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HARPER'S 


ROUND    TABLE 


i 


895 


NEW    YORK 

HARPER     &     BROTHERS,    PUBLISHERS 
FRANKLIN     SQUARE 


Copyright,  1S95,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 


All  rights  reserved. 


INDEX    TO    ILLUSTRATIONS 


ADELPHI  Academy  Track  Athletic  Team,  609. 

Admiral  for  a  Night,  An,  337. 

Afloat  With  the  Flag,  1,  24,  41,  00,  80,  96, 120, 129,  168,  184, 
201,  220,  232,  245,  265,  281,  300. 

AFRICA:— The  African  Explorer,  304;  Sports  and  Amuse- 
ments of  African  Natives,  3S8,  389,  412,  413. 

"  Ain't  it  just  blessed  we've  got  dis  umberilla?"  352. 

"Alberaarle."  The  Blowing  Up  of  the,  241. 

Alps,  A  Garrison  On  the  Tops  of  the.  29. 

Ambuscade  on  Clover  Hill,  The,  316. 

An  Own  Relation,  953. 

Audover  School,  484,  485  ;  Andover  Academy's  Two 
Record  Runners,  513  ;  Andover's  Track  Athletic 
Teum,  681. 

April  fool.  An,  384. 

Art,  The  Girl  Who  Comes  to  the  City  to  Study,  332. 

Articles  of  Confederation,  The,  437. 

Artificial  Ice,  «12,  813. 

ASTRONOMY  :  — On  the  Earth  and  in  the  Sky,  212,  213, 
844,  845. 

At  the  Brownie  Play,  228,  229. 

At  the  Seaside,  90'J. 

ATHLETICS:  —  The  New  York  Inter-scholastic  Cup,  465; 
Barnard  School  Track  Athletic  Team,  489  ;  Ando- 
ver Academy's  Two  Record  Runners,  513  ;  Inter- 
scholastic  Games  at  Berkeley  Oval,  537,  5:i8  ;  In- 
ter-city Games  at  Berkeley  Oval,  561  ;  German- 
town  Academy  Baseball  Nine  —  Lawreuceville 
Baseball  Nine,  585  ;  Oakland  High  School  Athletic 
Team — St.  Paul's,  Garden  City,  Baseball  Nine, 
633;  The  Worcester- Andover  Games.  657  ;  The 
Running  High  Jump.  776,  778  ;  Hartford  High 
School  Track  Athletic  Team.  801  ;  The  Hotchkiss 
School  Football  Eleven,  1089. 

Aunt  Selina's  Mistake,  360,  377. 

B 

BABY  Elephant's  Misadventure,  The,  712;  Baby  Elephant 
and  Bubbles,  736. 

Ballad  of  the  "Constitution,"  A,  1012,  1013. 

Baltic  Canal,  The  United  States  Navy  at  the,  820,  821. 

Barnard  School  Track  Athletic  Team,  489. 

Basket,  A  Novel,  87. 

Battle  of  New  Orleans,  The,  439. 

BEARS  :— A  Comic  Valentine,  272  ;  The  Obliging  Bear, 
904. 

BICYCLING  :  — Bicycles  of  To-day  and  Yesterday,  409  ; 
A  Bicycle  Corps'  Outing,  860,  Kfil  ;  An  Improved 
Bicycle,  880  ;  The  Right  aud  the  Wrong  of  It,  '.lit',, 
917.  (See  also  "  Maps. ") 

Bilberry  School  Exhibition.  The,  1029. 

Bill  Tybcc  anil  the  Hull.  i!4S. 

Blowing  Up  of  the  Irourlad  "  Albemarle,"  241. 

Boat,  A  Shooting-,  How  to  Build,  lisi). 

Bombardment  of  the  Golden  Gate,  The,  1084,  1085. 

Bonbon  or  Work  Box,  11. 

Book,  The  Making  of  a,  796,  797. 

Boot  on  the  other  Leg,  The,  369. 

Boston,  Map  of,  101)2. 

Hoys'  Ambuscade,  The.  128. 

BOYS  AND  GIRLS  OF  Ni-:w  YORK  STREETS: — A  Slro-i 
waifs  Luck,  161;  Danny  ('ahill.  Newsboy,  345  ;  A 
Daughter  of  the  Tenements,  528. 

Boys'  Work  and  Play,  New  York,  193,  196,  197. 

liraddie's  Brother,  K33. 

Brooklyn,  Map  of,  588. 

Brooklyn  Bridge,  The,  788. 

Brownie  Play,  At  the,  228,  229. 

Budd  Wilson's  Judgment,  321. 

BUILDING  OF  MODERN  WONDERS,  Till':: — The  Ocean  <;ivv- 
hound.  4  ;  The  Flying  machine,  231!,  2:17;  The  Lo- 
comotive, 311-313  ;  The  Hook,  7'JO,  797  ;  The  Elec- 
tric Trolley-car,  1052,  1053. 

Bunkey,  Monkey,  and  Jirnmieboy,  352. 


CABINET,  The  President's,  772,  773. 

Canoe,  A  Canvas,  826. 

Canoeing,  849,  850. 

Captain  Billy,  73. 

Cargo  of  Burning  Coal,  A,  929. 

Carrier  Pigeons  Coming  to  Their  Cote — The  Interior  of 
the  Pigeons'  Home,  932  ;  McGinty,  Annie  Roouey, 
and  a  Guest,  933. 

Cascadilla  Crew,  The,  ami  Boat  house,  961. 

Case  for  Shaving  papers,  A  Simple,  134. 

Cat  Boat  Race,  A,  16. 

Cat  Show,  The,  548. 

Cat-boat,  A  Racing,  891-894. 

Catch  all,  The,  239. 

Cats  and  Dogs.  A  Hotel  for,  308,  309. 

Chickens  and  the  Chicken-coop,  396,  397. 

Children  of  the  American  Revolution,  The  National  So- 
ciety of  the,  1H04.  1005. 

Children's  Dauciug  Classes,  301. 

Christmas  Crank.  A,  105. 

Circus  Training  School,  The,  784. 

Clinton  High-school  Track-athletic  Team,  753. 

Cobweb  Lane,  788. 


Comic  Valentine,  A,  272. 

Cooking-school,  A  Girl's,  Without  a  Fire,  277. 

Cooper,  James  Fenimore,  652.  653. 

Coppertowu  "Star"  Route,  The,  1001. 

Corean  Money,  951. 

Corporal  Fred,  737,  768,  792,  816,  837,  864,  889. 

Crossbow,  How  to  Make  a,  268. 

D 

DANCING  Classes,  Children's,  301. 

Danny  Cahill.  Newsboy,  345. 

Daughter  of  the  Tenements,  A,  528. 

Day  in  the  Senate,  A,  132,  133. 

Death  of  Stonewall  Jackson,  521. 

"  Defender's  "  Launching.  At  the,  758  ;  "  Defender,"  944. 

Demon  of  Snaggle-tooth  Rock,  The,  984. 

Detective,  The  Real  and  the  Unreal,  34'J. 

Diver's  Story,  The,  8. 

Doilies  for  Christmas  Presents,  44. 

Dolls,  The  :  A  Drama  in  Pantomime,  97-104. 

"Dorothy  Q"  Party,  A,  260,  261. 

E 

EARLY  DAYS  OF  SUCCESSFUL  MEN:— Admiral  Ghcrardi, 
12,  13  ;  General  Miles,  36,  37  ;  The  Artist  F.  S. 
Church,  364,  365. 

Easter,  Eggs  for.  383. 

East-side  Boy,  The,  and  His  Games,  1060,  1061. 

Eggs  for  Easter,  383. 

Electric  Machine,  Diagrams  for,  204. 

ELEPHANTS  :— Toby,  The  Trick  Elephant,  48  ;  The  Sad 
Fate  of  a  Mischievous  Elephant,  668  ;  An  Ani- 
mated See  saw,  904  ;  His  First  View  of  an  Ele- 
phant, 928. 

English  Eliza,  1073. 

Envelope  Photograph-frames.  223. 

Escape  of  Three  Girls,  The,  317. 


FALES'S  Oshia,  9, 17,  40. 

Fight  in  the  Fog,  A,  881. 

Fighting  the  Elements,  865. 

Flag- bearer.  The,  569. 

Flora,  Queen  of  Summer,  556,  557. 

Flying-machine,  The,  SI6,  237. 

Football— The  Wedge   Knnoalmn,  921;   The  Hotchkiss 

School  Football  Eleven,  1089. 
Forgotten  Guns,  The,  501. 
Four  Young  Russian  Heroes,  956. 
"Fourth,"  The,  688. 
Foxes,  Those  Funny,  638. 


BABE  LOLAR'S  Caribou,  209. 

Games,  The  East-side  Boy  and  His,  1060,  1061. 

Garrison  On  the  Tops  of  the  Alps.  A,  29. 

Germantown  Academy  Baseball  Nine,  585. 

Gettysburg,  The  Charge  at,  545. 

Gherardi,  Admiral.  War-.ships  Commanded  by,  13. 

Ghostly  Whaling-ground,  A   'juo 

Girl  Who  Comes  to  the  City  to  Study  Art,  The,  332. 

Girl's  Cooking  school  Without  a  Fire,  A,  277. 

Grasshopper,  The,  and  the  Cider  1'iggin,  808. 

GREAT  MEN'S  SONS  :—  The  Son  of  Alexander  the  Great, 
785  ;  The  Son  of  Charlemagne,  840  ;  The  Son  of 
Luther,  869  ;  The  Son  of  Napoleon,  912  ;  The  Son 
of  Cromwell,  957  ;  The  Son  ol  Shakespeare,  981. 

GREAT  STATE  PAPERS:  —  The  Treaty  of  Versailles,  55  ;  The 
Japanese  Treaty,  268  ;  The  Muscat  Treaty.  269  ; 
Ratification  of  Constitutional  Amendment  by  stale 
of  New  York,  436  ;  The  Articles  of  Confederation, 
437;  The  "McKinley"  Tariff  Law,  628;  The 
"  Sherman  "  Silver  Law,  629. 

Greedy  Thomas,  976. 

Green  Pansies,  180,  181. 

Groton  School,  188,  189. 

Guest  of  Two  Nations,  A,  353. 


Hampton  Roads,  The  Fight  at,  497. 

Hand-in-hand  Skating,  253. 

Harpoon,  The  Modern,  728. 

Harry  Borden's  Naval  Monster,  1025. 

Hartford  High  school  Track-athletic  Team,  801. 

Hawthorne,  Nathaniel,  724,  725. 

He  Knew.  952. 


Hotchkiss  School  Football  Eleven,  The,  1089. 

Hotel  for  Cats  aud  Dogs,  A,  308,  309. 

Horse-bicycle,  Melville's,  880. 

House  of  Representatives,  An  Exciting  Moment  in  the, 

697. 

How  Jack  Lockett  Won  His  Spurs.  71::. 
How  Reddy  Gained  His  Commission,  905,  936. 
How  to  Make  a  Crossbow,  268. 


ICE,  Artificial,  812,  813. 

Ice  of  New  York  Harbor,  In  the,  297. 

In  the  Greenland  Ice,  441. 

In  the  Strawberry  Patch,  408. 

Insect  Factory,  A'  National,  31. 

Inter-city  Athletic  Games  at  Berkeley  Oval,  561. 

Inter-scholastic  Athletic.  Meet  at  Berkeley  oval,  537,  538. 

Inter-scholastic  Cup,  The  New  York,  465. 

Irving,  Washington,  532,  633. 


JAPANESE  Treaty,  The,  268. 

Jirnmieboy  and  the  Animals,  381. 

Joan,  The  Little,  1040. 

Joe  Griffin's  Great  Jump,  397. 

Joe's  Scheme,  761. 

John  Kilburne's  Fort,  744. 

Joys  of  the  Steamship  Hunt,  549. 

Jule's  Garden,  333. 

Jump,  The  Running  High,  776,  778. 


KALEIDOSCOPE,  A  Beautiful,  414. 

KING  ARTHUR  AND  His  KNIGHTS  :— Journeying  Towards 

London,  5K4  ;    The   Sword.  608  ;    Arthur  and  Hie 

Knights,  621  ;  The  Final  Trial,  656. 
King  Arthur's  Round  Table,  662. 
Kite  Tale,  A,  544. 
Knave  of  Hearts,  The,  673-677. 
Knickerbocker  Grays,  509. 


LARGEST  Magnet  in  the  World,  The,  108. 

Lawrenceville  Baseball  Nine,  585. 

Leyden  Jar,  The,  175. 

Life  in  a  Paris  School,  252. 

LIFE-BLOOD  OF  A  GKKAT  CITY: — Getting  Into  and  Out  of 
New  York,  116,  117;  How  New  York  Sees  at 
Night,  372,  373  ;  How  New  York  Gels  Its  Water, 
460,  461. 

Light-house,  Life  in  a,  644,  645. 

Light-house,  The,  and  the  Mariner,  356.  367. 

Lion,  The,  the  Pitfall,  and  the  Belated  Traveller.  432. 

Little  Joan,  The,  1040. 

Little  Minute-man,  The,  693. 

Little  Red  Book,  The,  81,  109,  121,  136,  173,  1S5.  'Jnr, 

Locomotive,  Building  the,  311-313. 

Longfellow,  Henry  Wadsworth.  940,  941. 

Longmeadow  Toll-gate,  401,  433. 

Longwood  Tennis  Tournament,  Final  Match  of  the,  801. 

Looming  Falls  Air-line  Express,  The,  225. 

Lorelei  of  the  Show  bills,  289. 

M 

"  MAD  ANTHONY  "  WAYNE  at  Stony  Point,  473. 

Magnet,  The  Largest,  in  the  World,  108. 

MAPS:  —  New  York,  Showing  Asphalted  and  Macadam- 
ized Streets,  468  ;  Road-map,  New  York  to  Tarry- 
town,  492  ;  Road  map,  New  York  to  Stamford, 
Conn.,  516  ;  Road-map,  New  York  City  to  Tntten- 
ville,  Staten  Island,  540  ;  Road  -  map.  New  York 
City  to  Pine  Brook,  New  Jersey,  564  ;  Map  oi 
Brooklyn,  Showing  Asphalt,  Macadamized,  and 
Granite  paved  Streets.  588  ;  Road-map,  Brooklyn 
to  Babylon,  612  ;  Road-map,  Brooklyn  to  North- 
port,  636  ;  Road-map,  Tarrytown  to  Poughkeep- 
sie,  660 ;  Road-map.  Poughkeepsie  to  Hudson, 
685  ;  Road-map,  Hudson  to  Albany,  708  ;  Road- 
map.  Perth  Amboy  to  Trenton,  732  ;  Road-map, 
Philadelphia  to  Trenton,  756  ;  Philadelphia,  780  ; 
Road-map,  Philadelphia- Wissahickon  Route, 
804  ;  Road  map,  Philadelphia  to  West  C'li- 
828  ;  Road  map,  Philadelphia  to  Rn.-e.lale.  s.vj  . 
Rosedale  to  Atlantic  City,  876:  Philadelphia  to 
Salem,  900  ;  Salem  to  Vin'eland,  924  ;  Stamford  to 
New  Haven,  948  ;  New  Haven  to  New  London, 
972  ;  New  London  to  Shannock.  991!  ;  Shann.n-l; 
to  Providence,  1020;  Providence  i"  ilnsti'ii.  1044  : 
The  Boston,  Concord,  and  Lexington  Kuute  U 
Boston,  Showing  Asphalted  and  Macadamized 
Streets,  1092. 

Matter  of  Taste,  A,  72. 

"  McKinley  "  Tariff  Law,  The,  628. 

Merry  Owlets,  The,  856. 

Messenger  Boy's  Adventure.  4i'l. 

Miles,  General,  in  His  Tent  Dunns  the  Recent  Chica!;" 
Riots,  36;  Cavalry  Being  Reviewed  by  General 
Miles,  37. 


VI 


INDEX 


Military  Bicycle  Corps'  Outing,  A,  860,  861. 

Military  Signalling,  164,  165. 

Miniature  Railroad  System,  A,  580,  581. 

Misplaced  "  Fourth,"  A,  665. 

Miss  Appolina's  Choice,  456,  480,  504. 

"  Monitor"  and  "Merrimae,"  497. 

Moon,  What  We  Know  of  the,  212,  213. 

Mouse,  A  Very  Wise  Little,  192. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tumble-bug,  963-965. 

Mr.  Gobbler's  Story,  52,  53. 

Muscat  Treaty,  The,  269. 

Mushroom  Spore-prints,  444,  445. 

N 

NATIONAL  Insect  Factory,  A,  31. 

NATURAL  HISTORY:— Green  Pansies,  180. 181  ;  Mushroom 
Spore-prints,  444,  445  ;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tumble-bug, 
963-965. 

Natural  History  in  the  Tropics,  88. 

Natural  Inquiry,  A,  928. 

Nautical  Fire-balloon,  A,  625. 

NEW  YORK  CITY: — Getting  Into  and  Out  of  New  York, 
116,  117;  Boys  and  Girls  of  New  York  Streets, 
161,345;  New  York  Boys'  Work  and  Play,  193, 
196,  197  ;  How  New  York  Sees  at  Night,  373,  373  ; 
How  New  York  Gets  Its  Water,  4fiO,  461  ;  Map 
Showing  Asphalted  and  Macadamized  Streets,  468. 

New  York  Interscholastir  Cup,  The,  465. 

Newport  Tennis  Courts,  The,  897. 

Nocturnal  Repulse,  A,  257. 

Number  100,  624. 

O 

OAKLAND  High-school  Athletic  Team,  633. 

Oakleigh,  641,  672,  697,  721,  745,  769,  793,  817,  841,  857, 

888,  913,  937,  961,  985,  1009,  1033,  1057,  1081. 
Obliging  Bear,  The,  904. 
Ocean  Greyhound,  Budding  the,  4. 
Oil' with  (.be  Merboy,  448,  453,  477,  512,  636,  560. 
Old  Manse,  The,  725. 
On  an  Arizona  Trail,  417,  421,  425,  427. 
On  Board  the  Ark,  800,  824,  848,  872,  896,  920,  933,  968, 

992,  1016. 
ON  THE  EARTH  AND  IN  THK  SKY  :  —  What  We  Know  of 

the  Moon,  212,  213;  The  Earth  Yesterday,  To-day, 

To-morrow,  844,  845. 
Opening  of  the  Circus  Season,  520. 
Ostrich  Stomach,  An,  808. 


PAPA'S  Rod:  A  Christmas  Play,  140,  141. 

Paris  School,  Life  in  a,  252. 

Patience  Rawlins's  Heroism,  221. 

Perils  of  the  Newfoundland  Banks,  741. 

Philadelphia,  Map  of,  780. 

Phillips  Exeter  Academy.  The,  284,  285. 

Photograph  Taken  in  the  T\  nil,  TiiT. 

Photographer  at  Work,  698. 

Photograph  frames.  Envelope,  223. 

"Piece  of  Work,  A,"  1056. 

Pigeons,  Carrier,  932,  933. 

Pin  cushion.  Ornamental,  239. 

Playing  Robbers,  32. 

Pleasant  Disappointment,  A,  600. 

Postage  Stamps,  St.  Valentine's,  -JSK 

Private  Theatricals  and  How  to  Get  them  L'p,  26-28,  83- 

85. 

Prize  Pumpkin,  The,  4il. 
"  Professor  Jim's"  Christmas  Dinner,  89,  91. 
Proper  Use  of  a  Shot  gun,  The,  632. 
Prying  Mary.  1048. 
Pussy  and  the  Fool's-cap,  416  ;  Pussy  and  the  Goldlish, 

661. 

Q 

QUICK  Cure,  A,  368. 

Quill-Pen,  Esquire,  Artist,  716,  717. 

R 

RABBITS  :  Their  Care,  and  How  lo  iiuild  Their  Houses. 

508. 

Railroad  System,  A  Miniature,  580,  581. 
Rainbow  Tea,  A,  752. 
Kainy  Season  in  the  Tropics,  The,  336. 


RAISING   AND   KEEPING  OF   PETS:  —  Chickens  and  the 

Chicken-coop,  396,  397. 
Raleigh  Reds,  The,  689. 
Red  Devils'  Rescue,  The,  248. 
Revengeful  Whale,  A,  488. 
Rhinoceros,  The,  the  Elephant,  and  the  Ox,  48. 
Right  and  the  Wrong  of  It,  The,  916,  917. 
Road  Rangers,  145,  149,  153,  157. 
Round  Table,  King  Arthur's,  662. 
Runaway  Fin-back,  A,  21. 
Running"  High  Jump  in  Detail,  The,  776,  778. 
Russian  Boys'  Novel  Coasting,  244. 


SAD  Fate,  The,  of  a  Mischievous  Elephant,  568. 

"Salty  tear  stole  down  his  manly  cheek,  A,"  336. 

Sam  I.ee  and  the  Flying  Top,  592. 

Santa's  Mistake,  112. 

Saved  by  a  Carcass,  593. 

"Scapegrace,"  216,  217. 

SCHOOLS,  TYPICAL  AMERICAN  : — St.  Paul's  School,  76,  77  ; 

Phillips    Exeter  Academy,    188,    189 ;    Andover 

School,  484,  485. 
Scrub  Quarter-back,  The,  33. 
'Scutney  Mail,  The,  233,  249,  263,  264,  280,  296 
Sea  Rangers,  977,  1008,  1033,  1049,  1080. 
Sea-water,  The  Composition  of,  952. 
See-saw,  An  Animated,  904. 
Setting  a  Hen,  368. 
Shakespeare,  The  Son  of,  981. 
Shark-catching  in  Mid-ocean,  1087,  1088. 
"Sherman  "  Silver  Law,  The,  629. 
Ship  Without  a  Light,  The,  525. 
Shooting  the  Chute,  884,  885. 
Shooting  boat,  How  to  Build  a,  680. 
Shot  gun,  The  Proper  Use  of  a,  632. 
Signets,  How  to  Find  and  Mount,  1076,  1077. 
Sister  Sue's  Dream  About  Brother  Tommy,  496. 
Skaters,  Two  Ingenious,  1096. 
Skating,  Hand-in  baud,  253. 

Sketching  Class,  A,  in  a  New  York  Art  School,  332. 
Ski  runners.  With  the,  329. 
Smiles,  A  Contest  in,  32. 
Snow  shoes  and  Sledges,  305,  328,  341,  361,  376,  393,  405, 

440,  457,  481,  905,  629,  553,  577,  601,  617,  649,  669, 

696,  720. 

"Solomon"  of  Lonely  Pines,  169. 
Spirit  of  Independenc-V.  I'br,  27:1,  27 li. 
Sponges,  Two  Fairy,  700,  701. 
Sports  and  Amusements  of  African  Natives — The  African 

Game  of  Hockey,  388  ;  Natives  Playing  their  Came 

of  Chess,  389  ;  An  African  Elephant  Trap,  412  ;  A 

Native  Foot-race,  413. 
St.  Paul's  Crews,  The.  945. 
St.  Paul's,  Garden  City,  Baseball  Nine,  633. 
St.  Paul's  School,  76,  77, 
St.  Valentine's  Postage  Stamps,  288. 
STAMPS  :— Uncle  Sam  as  a  Stamp- maker,  604,  60"i;  sump 

Perforatious,  630  ;  St. imp  Water-marks,  755,  851  ; 

Secret  Dress  Stamps,  923  ;  Stamps,  1023. 
Stars,  Studying  the,  292,  293. 
STATE  PAPERS,  GREAT: — 55,  268,  269,  436,  437. 
Steamship  Hunt.  Joys  of  the,  549. 
Stony  Point,  "  Mad  Anthony  "  Wayne  at,  473. 
STORIES  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE: — Washington  Irving, 

532,  533  ;  James  Fenimore  Cooper,  (J52.  653  ;  Na- 
thaniel Hawthorne,  724,  725  ;   Henry  Wadsworlh 

Longfellow,  940,  941. 

Slmk  Express,  Limited,  The,  92,  93,  124,  125. 
Story  of  an  Easter  Egg,  The,  :i92 
Sinn-  of  Noel  Duval,  The,  809. 
Strange  Adventures  of  Tommv  Toddles.  The,  128,  141, 

172,  192,  208,  224,  240,  256,  272,  288,  304,  320. 
Street-waifs  Luck,  A,  161. 
Study  iu  Natural  History,  A,  856. 
Studying  the  Stars,  292.  293. 
Swimming  Lesson,  A,  832. 


THANKSGIVING,  The  Young  People's  Share  in,  45. 

Thanksgiving  at  the  Edsons',  61. 

Thai  Sleight  of  hand  Performance,  704. 

Thornton's  Useless  Study,  573. 

Toucan  Do,  What,  856. 

Treaty  of  Versailles,  The,  55  ;  The  Japanese  Treaty,  268  ; 

The  Muscat  Treaty.  269. 
Trick  Bicycle-rider,  The',  and  the  Obstinate  Bull  dog,  616 


Trolley  Bike  of  1900,  The,  476. 
Trolley-car,  The  lOlcctric,  1052,  1053. 
Tumble-bug,  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  963-965. 
Turkey  Made  of  a  Golden-rod  Stalk,  A,  72. 
Turtle's  Wish,  The,  325. 
Two  Ambitious  Cubs,  610. 
Two  Brave  Men,  868. 
Two  Fairy  Sponges,  700.  701. 
Two  Glances  from  the  Elevated  Railroad,  1072. 
Two  of  a  Kind,  736. 

TYPICAL  AMERICAN  SCHOOLS  : — St.  Paul's.  76,  77;  Groton 
School,  188,  189  ;  Andover,  484,  185. 

U 

UNCLE  SAM  as  a  Stamp-maker,  604,  605. 

Uncle  Silas's  Encounter  with  the  Evil  One,  472. 

Under  the  Castle's  Guns,  113. 

Unexpected  Rescuers,  137. 

Unexpected  Result,  An,  400. 

United  States  Navy,  The,  at  the  Baltic  Canal,  820,  821. 

Untidy  Jane,  176. 

Useless  Adventure,  A,  177. 


VALENTINES,  Home  made,  255. 

"Valkyrie,"  941. 

Venelli's  Violin,  385. 

Very  Wise  Little  Mouse,  A,  192. 

"Volcano,  A  Seemingly  Extinct,"  952. 

W 

WAKING  Up  of  Cross  Corners,  The,  344. 

War-fleet  in  Training,  A,  988,  989. 

War-ships  Commanded  by  Admiral  Gherardi  Entering 

New  York  Harbor,  13. 
Water  Life  Around  New  York,  1036,  1037. 
Watermelon  Tide,  The,  960. 
Weigh,  A  Very  Unsatisfactory,  1024. 
Westbridge  Burglar  Alarm,  The,  789. 
Whale-boat.  The  .Modern,  728. 
When  Royalty  Travels,  718,  749. 
Whisk-holder,  239. 

Why  Bobby  Didn't  Get  His  Rocking  horse.  112. 
"  Why  don't  your  mudder  do  your  wool  up,"  88. 
Wicked  Willie's  Dream,  760. 
With  the  Ski-runners,  329. 
Worcester-Audover  Games,  The,  657. 


YOUNG  Beach-combers  of  Monmontb,  The,  552. 
Young  People's  Share  in  Thanksgiving,  The,  45. 


ZF.BEDEE,  61,  05. 


PORTRAITS 

ALPHONSOXIIL.  King  of  Spain,  764,  765. 

Baltazzi,  S.  A.  W.,  776. 

Barker.  N.  W..  513. 

Beck,  F.  G.,  634. 

Krei-ki-nridge.  Lucy  H.,  1005. 

Church,  V.  S.,  364. 

Crisp,  Charles  F. ,  596. 

dishing,  Lietenanl,  241. 

Gherardi    Rear-Admiral  Bancroft,  12. 

Hancock,  Will,  950. 

Ilni.-,  A    H  .  i'..->s. 

H.. it.  i<:  t;  .  6.-s. 

I.aing.  W.  T.,  513. 
Lothrop,  Margaret  M.,  1005. 
Liilhrop,  Mrs.  D  .  Inil4. 
Mann,  Margaret  I...  liin.V 
McKee  children.  The,  1004. 
Miles,  lii'iieral  N-  A. ,36. 
Miinn.r    Kirk,  143. 
Syme.  S   A  .  H-J.Y 
Ware.  Leonard  E. ,  825. 

Washington,  George,  frontal ;e 

Washington,  Mary,  fiirmg  |..i^.   Ml. 
Wiihelmina,  Queen  of  Hollaud,  348. 


GENERAL    INDEX 


ADMIRAL  for  a  Night,  An,  337. 

Afloat  With  the  Flag.  1,  22,  41,  58,  78,  94,  118,  129,  166,  182, 

201,  218,  230.  244,  265,  281,  298. 
Africa,  South,  A  Delightful  Morsel  from,  ,046. 
African  Natives,  Sports  and  Amusements  of,  398,  411. 
AlasUan  Indians,  782. 

"  Albemarle."  The  Blowing  Up  of  the,  241. 
Alexander  the  Great,  The  Son  of,  785. 
Alfonso  XIII.,  King  of  Spain,  761. 
Alps,  A  fiarrison  On  the  Tops  of  the,  29. 
Amateur  Journalism,  950.  !l!>8. 
Ambuscade  on  Clover  Hill,  The,  314. 
Andover  School,  184. 


Aquarium,  A  Boy's,  739. 

Astronomy.     (See  "On  the  Earth  and  In  the  Sky.") 

At  the  Brownie  Play,  228. 

At  the  Seaside,  907. 

Aunt  Selina's  Mistake,  358,  377. 


BADEN-BADEN,  A  Visit  to,  926. 

Badges,  The  Order's,  854. 

Badges,  What  Shall  Our,  Be,  662. 

Balle-et-Poteau,  926. 

Barney,  Joshua,  U.  S.  N.,  116. 

Basket,  A  Novel,  86. 

Battle  of  Now  Orleans,  The,  449. 


Beautiful  Kaleidoscope,  A,  414. 

Betty's  Ride,  651. 

Beverly  Ghost,  The,  731. 

Bicycle,  Development  of  the,  410. 

Bicyclers,  Some  Don'ts  for,  697. 

BICYCLING:— 468,  492,  516,  540,  564,  589,  612,636,  660, 

684   708   732,  756,  781,  804,  828.  852,  876,  900,  924, 

948   972,  996,  1020,  1044.  1068.  ]"'.<2 
Bicycling— The  Right  and  the  Wrong  of  It.  915. 
Bilberry  School  Exhibition.  The,  1027. 
Bill  Tyiiee  and  the  Bull,  646. 
Birds.  Some  South-African,  614. 
Blowing  I'p  of  the  Ironclad  "Albemarle,"  The,  211. 
Boat,  A  Shooting  ,  How  to  Build  a,  679. 
Bob,  and  Bimber,  and  the  Bear,  620. 


INDEX 


Vll 


Bombardment  of  the  Golden  Gate,  The,  1081. 

Bonbon  or  Work  Bos,  11. 

Book,  A  Large,  368. 

Book,  The  Building  of  a.  795. 

Boot  on  the  Other  Leg,  The,  369. 

BOYS  AND  GIRLS  AS  KULKRS  OF  MEN  :  —  Alfonso  XIII., 
King  of  Spain.  764. 

BOYS  AND  GIRLS  op  NEW  YORK  STREETS  : — A  Street- waifs 
Luck,  101;  Danny  Cahill,  Newsboy,  345 ;  A  Daugh- 
ter of  the  Tenements,  527. 

Boy's  Aquarium,  A,  739. 

Boys'  Work  and  Play,  New  York,  193. 

Braddy's  Brother,  833. 

Brooklyn  Bridge — Cobweb  Lane,  786. 

Brownie  Play,  At  the,  228. 

Budd  Wilder's  Judgment,  321. 


car,  1052. 
Bunkey,  Monkey,  and  Jimmieboy,  350. 


CAMERA  CLUB,  THE  :  — 462,  519,  534,  558,  583,  613,  637, 
646,  686,  707,  726,  751,  783,  803,  822,  853,  877,  901, 
925,  966,  991,  1021,  1045,  1095. 

Camping  Hints,  Clever,  998. 

Captain  Billv,  73. 

Cargo  of  Burning  Coal,  A,  929. 

Carrier  Pigeons,  931. 

Case  for  Shaving  papers,  A  Simple,  134. 

Cat  Show,  The,  547. 

Cat  bout,  A  Racing,  891. 

Cats  and  Dogs,  A  Hotel  for,  308. 

Celebrating  the  "Fourth  "  Abroad,  950. 

Chapter  Programmes,  1094. 

Charge  at  Gettysburg,  The.  645. 

Charlemagne,  The  Son  of,  839. 

Chess-players,  A  Village  of,  879. 

Chickens  and  the  Chicken-coop,  396. 

Children  of  the  American  Revolution,  The  National  So- 
ciety of  the,  1004. 

Children's  Dancing  Classes,  301. 

China's  Marines,  270. 

Chinese  Crew,  A,  571. 

Chinese  Enterprise,  A,  499. 

Chocolate  Creams,  855. 

Christmas  Crank,  A,  105. 

Church,  F.  S.,  the  Artist,  364. 

Clever  Retort,  A,  191. 

Coals  of  Fire,  430. 

Cobweb  Lane,  786. 

Coins,  A  Few  Notes  About,  712. 

College  Yells  and  Colors,  518. 

Conductor's  Bird  Story,  The,  47. 

Conquest  of  Santa  Claus,  The,  67. 

Cooking  school,  A  Girl's,  Without  a  Fire,  277. 

Cooper,  James  Feuimore.  652. 

Coppertnu-u  "Star"  Route,  The,  1001. 

Corporal  Fred,  737,  766,  790,  814,  836,  862,  889. 

Costa  Rican  Country  Life,  494. 

Cranberry  Bog,  A,  15. 

Crossbow,  How  to  Make  a,  267. 

D 

DANCING  Classes,  Children's,  301. 

Danny  Cahill,  Newsboy,  346. 

Daughter  of  the  Tenements,  A,  527. 

Day  in  the  Senate,  1:12. 

Death  of  Stonewall  Jackson,  The,  521. 

"Defender's"  Launching.  Seeing  the,  758. 

Demon  of  Snaggle-tooth  Rock,  The,  982. 

Detective  in  Fiction  and  Reality,  The,  348. 

Development  of  the  Bicycle,  410. 

Diver's  Story,  The,  7. 

Diving  Island,  A,  56. 

Doctor,  A  Wise,  598. 

Dog,  The  Talking,  336. 

Dogs  in  Warfare,  568. 

Dog's  Passion  for  Dolls,  432. 

Doilies  for  Christmas  Presents,  44. 

Dolls,  The  :  A  Drama  in  Pantomime,  97. 

Don'ts  for  Bicyclers,  Some,  997. 

"  Dorothy  Q"  Party,  A,  259. 


EARLY  DAYS  OF  SUCCESSFUL  MEN:— Admiral  Gherardi, 
12;  General  Miles,  36;  The  Artist — F.  S.  Church, 
364. 

East  side  Boy,  The,  and  His  Games,  1060. 

Eggs  for  Easter,  383. 

Electrical  Machine.  A  Simple,  203. 

Elephants,  A  Dainty  for,  520. 

F.nglish  Eliza,  1073. 

Enterprising  Photographer,  An,  598. 

Envelope  Photograph-frames,  223. 

Escape  of  Three  Girls,  The,  316. 

Every  Man  His  Day,  309. 

Exciting  Game,  An,  710. 


FACETIJE:— 16,  54,  88,  112,  125,  127,  128,  143,  176,  191,  195, 
224,  246,  256,  267,  272,  288,  304,  336,  352,  368,  384, 
400,  416,  432,  448,  472,  496,  520,  544,  568,  591,  592, 
616,  639,  640,  664,  712,  736,  760,  784,  808,  827,  832, 
856,  904,  928,  947,  962,  995,  1000,  1018,  1024,  1048, 
1072,  1096. 

Fales's  Oshia,  9, 17,  38. 

Farm  Life  Varying.  494. 

Fight  in  the  Fog,  A.  881. 

Fighting  the  Elements,  865. 

Fish  Stories,  Queer,  132. 


Flag-bearer,  The,  569. 

Flora,  Queen  of  Summer,  556. 

Fly-catcher,  A  Novel,  995. 

Forgotten  Guns,  The,  499. 

Four  Young  Russian  Heroes,  956. 

Fourth  of  July,  688. 

Free  Entertainment  in  the  Sahara,  A,  1035 

Fruits  in  Old  Jamaica,  1070. 

Furnace,  A  Visit  to  a  Famous,  829. 


GABE  LOLAR'S  Caribou,  209. 

Gala  Night,  Suggestions  for  that,  734. 

Game  of  the  Ring,  The.  1070. 

Games,  The  East  side  Boy  and  His,  1060. 

Garrison  On  the  Top  of  the  Alps,  A,  29. 

Gettysburg.  The  Charge  at,  545. 

Gherardi,  Admiral,  12. 

Ghostly  Whaling-ground,  A,  198. 

Giant  Boy,  A,  335. 

GIBSON,  W.  HAMILTON  :  —  Green  Pansies,  180  ;  Mushroom 
Spore-prints,  444  ;  Two  Fairy  Sponges,  700  ;  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Tumble-bug,  963. 

Girl  Who  Comes  to  the  City  to  Study  Art,  The,  330. 

Girl's  Cooking  school  Without  a  Fire,  A,  277. 

Giving  Him  a  Chance,  31. 

Gold  and  Silver  from  Ores,  902. 

GRANDFATHER'S  ADVENTURES  :— The  Baboon,  21;  The 
Wrecker's  Lantern,  126  ;  A  Mutiny  at  Sea,  410  ; 
As  a  Pirate,  813. 

GREAT  MEN'S  SONS  :— The  Son  of  Alexander  the  Great, 
785  ;  The  Son  of  Charlemagne,  839  ;  The  Son  of 
Luther,  869  ;  The  Son  of  Napoleon,  911  ;  The  Son 
of  Cromwell,  956  ;  The  Son  of  Shakespeare,  980. 

GREAT  STATE  PAPERS:— Titles  to  Our  Territory,  55  ;  Our 
Treaties  and  Who  Made  Them,  268  ;  Certificates  of 
Liberty,  435  ;  Our  Laws  and  Proclamations,  628. 

Green  Pansies,  180. 

Groton  School,  188. 

Guest  of  Two  Nations,  A,  353. 


HAIR-PIN  Box,  A  Dainty,  126. 

Halloween  Witches,  The,  1071. 

Hampton  Roads,  The  Fight  at,  497. 

H;ni<ll)ull — A  Game  for  Everybody,  367. 

Han. 1  in-hand  Skating,  253. 

Harry  Borden's  Naval  Monster,  1025. 

Hawthorne,  Nathaniel,  723. 

Hearing,  Some  Curious  Facts  Concerning,  967. 

Helen's  Choice,  574. 

HELPING  HAND,  THE  :  — 494,  566,  710,  734,  806,  854,  902, 
975,  1022,  1046,  1094. 

Herbarium,  How  to  Make  a,  774. 

HEROES  OF  AMERICA  : — The  Battle  of  New  Orleans,  439  ; 
"  Mad  Anthony  "  Wayne  at  Stony  Point,  473 ;  The 
Fight  at  Hampton  Roads,  497";  The  Death  of 
Stonewall  Jackson,  521  ;  The  Charge  at  Gettys- 
burg, 545  ;  The  Flag-bearer,  569. 

Hints  to  Young  Botanists,  846. 

His  Searching  was  Not  in  Vain,  838. 

His  Wheel  Saved  His  Life,  867. 

Home-made  Valentines,  254. 

Horse  of  the  Sheik  of  the  Mountain  of  Singing  Sands, 
The,  1064. 

Hotel  for  Cats  and  Dogs,  A,  308. 

How  a  Boy  Can  Come  to  New  York  and  Get  a  Situation, 
1062. 

How  Domino  Went  Fishing,  48. 

How  Jack  Lockett  Won  His  Spurs,  713. 

How  Reddy  Earned  His  Commission,  905,  934. 

How  to  Make  a  Crossbow,  267. 

How  Tod  Got  Into  the  Halloween  Games,  1091. 


ICE,  Artificial,  812. 

Ice  of  New  York  Harbor,  In  the,  297. 

In  a  Rabbit  trap,  194. 

In  the  Greenland  Ice,  441. 

In  the  Ice  of  New  York  Harbor,  297. 

In  the  Strawberry  Patch,  406. 

Insect  Factory,  A  National,  30. 

INTERSCHOLASTIO  SPORT  :  —  465,  489,  513,  537,  561,  585, 
609,  633,  657,  681,  705,  729,  753,  777,  801,  825,  849, 
873,  897,  921,  945,  969,  993,  1017,  1011,  1065,  1089. 

Iron  Plum,  An,  496. 

Irving,  Washington,  532. 


JACK'S  Fox  Hunt,  428. 

Jack's  Trick,  302. 

Jamaica  Sky  Meeting,  A,  1022. 

Japan,  From  a  Knight  in,  1022. 

Jeopardizing  of  the  Easter  Eggs.  The,  399. 

Jimmieboy  and  the  Animals,  381. 

Joan  of  Arc,  1039. 

Joe  Griffin's  Great  Jump,  397. 

Joe's  Scheme,  761. 

John  Kilburne's  Fort,  742. 

Joys  of  the  Steamship  Hunt,  548. 

Jule's  Garden,  333. 


KALEIDOSCOPE,  A  Beautiful,  414. 

King  Arthur  and   His  Knights.  584  ;   The   Sword,  607  ; 

Arthur  and  the  Knights,  020  ;    The  Final  Trial, 

655. 

King  Kalakau's  Army,  1005. 
KINKS  : — (See  ''Puzzles.") 
Knave  of  Hearts,  The,  673. 
Knickerbocker  Grays,  509. 


LARGE  Book,  A,  368. 

Largest  Magnet  in  the  World,  The,  108. 

Laws,  Our,  and  Proclamations,  628. 

Leyden  Jar,  The,  175. 

Life  in  a  Paris  School,  252. 

LIFE-BLOOD  OF  A  GREAT  CITY: — Getting  Into  and  Out  of 
New  York,  116;  How  New  York  Sees  at  Night,  371; 
How  New  York  Gets  Its  Water,  460. 

Light-house,  The,  and  the  Mariner,  356  ;  Life  in  a  Light- 
house, 644. 

Literary  Salad,  195. 

Little  Minute-man,  The,  693. 

Little  Red  Book,  The,  81,  109, 121,  134, 172, 185,  205. 

Locomotive,  Building  the,  311. 

London  Stone  and  Monument,  686. 

Longfellow,  Henry  Wadswortb,  940. 

Longmeadow  Toll-gate,  The,  401,  433. 

Looming  Falls  Air-line  Express,  The,  225. 

Lorelei  of  the  Show  bills,  289. 

Luther,  The  Sou  of,  869. 

M 

"  MAD  ANTHONY  "  WAYNE  at  Stony  Point,  473. 

Magnet,  The  Largest,  in  the  World,  108. 

Marble-mill,  A  Visit  to  a,  1070. 

Marshmallow  Paste  and  Candies,  879. 

Mean  Man,  A,  742. 

Messenger  Boy's  Adventure,  462. 

Miles,  General,  36. 

Military  Bicycle  Corps'  Outing,  A,  860. 

Military  Signalling,  163. 

Miniature  Railroad  System,  A,  580. 

Misplaced  •'  Fourth,"  A,  665. 

Miss  Appolina's  Choice,  454,  477,  502. 

Money,  Queer,  752. 

"Monitor"  and  "Merrimac,"  497. 

Monongahela,  The  Marvellous,  686. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tumble  bug,  963. 

Mr.  Gobbler's  Story,  52. 

Muuroe,  Mr.  Kirk,  to  the  Round  Table  Order,  830. 

Mushroom  Spore-prints,  444. 

Music: — The  Conquest  of  Santa  Claus,  68-71. 

Music  Rack,  A  Treat  for  the,  806  ;  The  Music  Rack,  998. 

Musical  Genius,  A,  259. 

Mutiny  at  Sea,  A,  410. 

Mysterious  Traveller,  The,  14. 

N 

NAPOLEON,  The  Son  of,  911. 

National  Insect  Factory,  A,  30. 

NATURAL  HISTORY:  —  Green   Pansies,  180;    Mushroom 

Spore-prints,  444  ;  Two  Fairy  Sponges,  700  ;  Mr. 

and  Mrs.  Tumble-bug,  963. 
Nautical  Fire-balloon,  A,  625. 
Naval  Apprentices,  All  About,  926. 
New  Things  That  Are  Old,  918. 
NEW  YORK  CITY: — Getting  Into  and  Out  of  New  York, 

116;  Boys  and  Girls  of  New  York  Streets.  lr,l; 

New  York  Boys'  Work  and  Play,  193;   How  New 

York  Sees  at  Night,  371  ;  How  New  York  Gets  Ita 

Water.  460. 

"Newcomb,"  Directions  for  Playing,  1046. 
Newspapers,  A  Collection  of,  590. 
Nocturnal  Repulse,  A,  257. 
Notice,  Important,  440. 
Number  100,  622. 

O 

OAKLEIGH,  641,  670,  697,  721,  745,  769,  793,  817,  841,  857, 
886,  913,  937,  961,  985,  1009,  1033,  1057,  1081. 

Ocean  Greyhound,  Building  the,  4. 

Off  with  the  Merboy,  446,  451,  476,  511,  535,  559. 

"Old-fashioned  Lawyer,  The,"  835. 

On  an  Arizona  Trail,  417. 

On  Board  the  Ark,  799,  823,  847,  871,  895,  919,  933,  967, 
991,  1015. 

ON  THE  EARTH  AND  IN  THE  SKY  :  — What  We  Know  of 
the  Moon,  211  ;  The  Earth  Yesterday,  To  day,  To- 
morrow, 844. 

One  Brave  Boy  Out  of  a  Thousand,  474. 

Outwitted  by  a  Blind  Beggar,  87. 

Overheard  in  Bobby's  Desk,  32. 

Own  Relation,  An,  953. 


PAPA'S  Rod  :  A  Christmas  Play,  110. 
Paris  School,  Life  in  a,  252. 
Parsley  Bed,  A,  1059. 
Patience  Rawlins's  Heroism,  221. 
Perils  of  the  Newfoundland  Banks,  740. 
Pets,  Caring  for  Some  of  Our,  926. 
Phillips  Exeter  Academy,  The,  283. 
Photographer,  An  Enterprising,  598. 
Photograph-frames,  Envelope,  223. 
Photographic  Prize  Competition,  Our,  974. 
"Piece  of  Work,  A,"  1054. 
Pigeons,  Carrier,  931. 
Pilot's  Story,  A,  862. 


Hearts,  673  ;  At  the  Seasi 
Pleasant  Disappointment,  A,  599. 
President's  Cabinet,  Tin-,  772. 
PRIZE-STORY  COMPETITION  :— First-prize  Story.  654  ;  The 

Awards,   662 ;    Second-prize   Story,   710 ;    Third- 
< 


vui 


"  Professor  Jim's  "  Christmas  Dinner,  89. 

Proper  Use  of  a  Shot-gun,  The,  631. 

PUDDING-STICK  THE  :  —469,  493,  610,  615,  541,  567,  682, 
606  6-27,  6IH,  683,  709,  727,  757,  774,  805,  823,  847, 
871  8H4  919,  949,  966,  991,  1014,  1047,  1067.  1091. 

PUZZLES  -—470  518,  542,  666,  690,  638,  734,  758,  782,  806, 
864,  903,  927,  974,  1022,  1070. 


QUARREL  in  the  Stamp  album,  A,  88. 

Queen  of  Holland,  The  Young,  347. 

QUESTIONS  AND  ANSWERS  :  — 734,  758,  306,  829,  854,  878, 

927,  974,  9118. 

Quill-Pen,  Esiiuire,  Artist,  716. 
Quoits  in  Warfare,  111. 


RABBITS  :  Their  Care,  and  How  to  Build  Their  Houses, 

508. 

Rabbit-trap.  In  a.  194. 
Races.  Some  Novel,  971. 
Railroad  System,  A  Miniature,  580. 
Rainbow  Tea,  A,  752. 
Rainsford's  (Dr.  I  Advice  to  Boys,  750. 
Raleigh  Reds,  The,  689. 
Raspberry  and  Cocoanut  Creams,  995. 
Red  Devils'  Rescue,  The,  247. 
Representatives,  What  Our,  Do,  596. 
Revengeful  Whale,  A,  486. 
Rich  Times,  759. 

Right  and  the  Wrong  of  It,  The,  915. 
Rival  Mothers,  The,  181. 
Road  Rangers,  145. 
Robbers'  Cave.  A  Visit  to,  998. 
Rome,  A  Fascinating  Walk  in,  566. 
ROUND  TABLE  CHAPTERS  :— 471,  542,  6615,  590,  614. 
ROUND  TABLE  CORRESPONDENCE  : — 471,  494,  566,  690,  614, 

938,  662,  686,  711,  734. 
ROUND  TAULK  MISCELLANY  : — 542,  590. 
Royalty  Travels,  Whon,  748. 
Runaway  Fin-back,  A,  19. 
Running  the  Cliinese  Blockade,  383. 
Russian  Sled,  A,  243. 


SAMMY'S  Wonderful  Pop,  16. 

Saved  by  a  Carcass,  593. 

"Scapegrace,"  214. 

SCHOOLS,  TYPICAL  AMERICAN  :— 75, 191,  484. 

Scrub  Quarter  back,  The,  33. 

'Scutney  Mail,  The,  233,  249,  261,  278,  294. 

Sea  Episode,  A,  380. 

Sea  I.ion.  An  Astute,  875. 

Sea  Rangers,  977,  1006,  1030,  1049,  1077. 

Sea-gull  Dick,  of  Brenton's  Reef,  330. 

Senate,  A  Day  in  the,  132. 

SERIALS:  — "Afloat  With  the  Flag"  — "The  Little  Red 
Book"  —  "The  Strange  Adventures  of  Tommy 
Toddles"— "The  'Scutuey  Mail "—"  Off  With  the 


INDEX 


Slerboy" — "Snow-shoes  and  Sledges" — "Oak- 
leigh"—  "On  Board  the  Ark"— "Sea  Rangers." 

Shah   A  Close  View  of  the,  590. 

Shakespeare,  The  Son  of,  982. 

Shakespeare  Club,  A  Young  People's,  414. 

Shark  catching  in  Mid-ocean,  1086. 

Ship  Without  a  Light,  The,  523. 

Shouting  the  Chute,  883. 

Shuiiting-boat,  How  to  Build  a,  679. 

Shot  gun.  The  Proper  Use  of  a.  fiiil. 

Signets,  How  to  Find  and  Mount,  1076. 

Skating,  Hand  in  hand,  253. 

Ski-runners,  With  the,  329. 

Sled,  A  Russian,  243. 

Snow-shoes  and  Sledges,  306,  326,  339,  361,  374,  393,  403, 
437,  457,  481,  505,  529,  553,  576,  601,  617,  649,  667, 
693J  718.  - 

"  Solomon  "  of  Lonely  Pines,  169. 

Some  Don'ts  for  Swimmers,  582. 

Some  Things  that  Little  Girls  Can  Make,  239. 

Spirit  of  Independence,  The,  273. 

Sponges,  Two  Fairy,  700. 

Sports  and  Amusements  of  African  Natives,  398,  411. 

St.  Croix  River,  The  Dallas  of  the,  686. 

St.  Paul's  School,  75. 

Stamp  maker,  Uncle  Sam  as  a,  604. 

STAMPS  -—467,  495,  517,  543,  607,  U30,  663,  687,  702,  735, 
755,  779,  807,  827,  851,  875,  899,  923,  951,  973,  999, 
1023,  1043,  1071,  1093. 

Stars,  Studying  the,  291. 

STATE  PAPERS,  GREAT  :— 65,  268,  435. 

Steamship  Hunt,  Joys  of  the,  548. 

Stony  Point,  "  Mad  Anthony  "  Wayne  at,  473. 

Stories  by  Grandma,  880,  976. 

STORIES  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE:— Washington  Irving, 
532  •  James  Fenimore  Cooper,  652  ;  Nathaniel 
Hawthorne,  723  ;  Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow, 
940. 

STORIES  OF  OUR  GOVERNMENT:— A  Day  in  the  Senate,  132; 
What  Our  Representatives  Do,  596  ;  The  Presi- 
dent's Cabinet,  773. 

Stork  Express,  Limited,  The,  92, 123. 

Story  of  an  Easter  Egg,  The,  390. 

Story  of  Noel  Duval,  The,  809. 

Strange  Adventures  of  Tommy  Toddles,  The,  127,  143, 
171,  191,  208,  223,  239,  255,  271,  287,  303,  319. 

Street- waifs  Luck,  A,  161. 

Studying  the  Stars,  291. 

Submarine  Dinner  Party,  A,  829. 

Swimmers,  Some  Don'ts  for,  682. 


"  TAILPIF.OE,  "  766. 

Talking  Dog,  The,  336. 

Thanksgiving,  The  Young  People's  Share  in,  45. 

Thanksgiving  at  the  Eilsons',  61. 

Thanksgiving  Turkey  Made  of  a  Golden-rod  Stalk,  A, 

72. 

That  Sleight-of-hand  Performance,  702. 
Theatricals,  Private,  26,  83. 
Thornton's  Useless  Study,  572. 


Toddlotums  Has  a  Dream,  1014. 

Tonies,  The,  32,  47,  72. 

Travelling  Stones  in  Nevada,  823. 

Treaties  — Titles  to  Our  Territory,  55  ;  Our  Treaties  and 

Who  Made  Them,  268. 
Triple  Somersault,  Turning  a,  526. 
Trolley  Bike  of  1900,  The,  476. 
Trolley-car,  The  Electric,  1052. 
Tumble-bug,  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  963. 
Turning  aTriple  Somersault,  526. 
Turtles,  Fresh-water,  The  Care  of,  662. 
Turtle's  Wish,  The,  324. 
Two  Brave  Men,  868. 
Two  Fairy  Sponges,  700. 
TYPICAL  AMERICAN  SCHOOLS:— St.  Paul's,  75;  Groton,  188; 

Andover,  484. 

U 

UNCLE  SAM  as  a  Stamp  maker,  604. 

ruder  the  Castle's  Guns,  113. 

rnrxpected  Rescuers,  137. 

United  States  Navy  at  the  Baltic  Canal,  The,  820. 

Useless  Adventure,  A,  177. 


VALENTINES,  Home-made,  254. 
Venelli's  Violin,  385. 
Vision  of  the  King's  Bad  Eye,  The,  366. 
Visiting-cards,  Some  Strange,  971. 
Von  Bulow,  More  About,  831. 

W 

WAKING  Up  of  Cross  Corners,  342. 

WANT  CORNER  :— 494,  518,  542,  566,  614,  638,  086,  1070. 

War-fleet  in  Training,  A,  988. 

Water  Colder  than  Ice,  243. 

Water  Life  Around  New  York,  1035. 

Watermelon  Tide,  The,  958. 

Weather  Indications,  774. 

Westbridge  Burglar  Alarm,  The,  788. 

Whaling,  Modern,  727. 

When  Royalty  Travels,  748. 

Who  Knows  Them  f  87. 

Winning  a  Watermelon,  742. 

Wiser  than  a  Wizard  (Puzzle),  470. 

With  the  Ski-runners,  3'29. 

Wolves,  Some  Terrible  Adventures  Kith,  976. 

"  Word  Hunt,"  The,  1046. 


YACHT,  The  Racing,  of  To  day,  942. 
Young  Beach-combers  of  Moumouth,  The,  550. 
Young  People's  Shakespeare  Club,  A,  414. 
Young  People's  Share  in  Thanksgiving,  The,  45. 
Young  Queen  of  Holland,  The,  347. 


ZEBEDEE,  64. 


POETRY 


AP;;IL  Days,  415. 

BALLAD  of  the  "Constitution,"  A,  1012. 
Bobby's  Thanksgiving,  72. 
Bells  of  Nine  o'clock,  The,  966. 
Both  Right,  364. 
Butterfly  Bows,  990. 

CERTAIN  Fairy,  A,  367. 
Change  of  Fortune,  A,  451. 
Changelings,  31. 
Christmas  Day.  123. 
Clara's  Christmas  Tree,  131. 
Cloth  of  Gold,  799. 

DAY  After,  The,  187. 
Delightful  Custom,  A,  390. 
Do  You  Know  Her  ?  335. 

FALLING  Star,  The,  218. 

Flag.  Our,  598. 

Fluffy,  6. 

Four  Winds,  The,  259. 

Franklin.  I'.riipmin,  314. 

Friends.  1003. 

Fnu  and  His  Puzzle,  115. 

GKAN1I3IA-LAND,  330. 


HAPPY  New  Year,  A,  175. 
Hard  to  Understand,  1021. 
Her  First  Sea  View,  1076. 
Hint,  A,  499. 

IF,  16. 

In  the  Valley,  1059. 
Its  Meaning,  958. 

JIMMIEBOY'S  Letter  to  Santa  Clans,  78. 
John  Cabot,  942. 
June  Flowers,  595. 

KENNIBOT'S  Circus,  1038. 

LARGE  Supply,  A,  166. 
Lazy  Hour,  The,  812. 
Little  Boy's  Plan,  A,  191. 
Little  Schoolma'am,  The,  3. 

MAGNIFICENT  Scheme,  A,  134. 
May  Be  So,  918. 
Memorial  Day,  546. 
Merriest  Time,  The,  462. 
Mollie  Rejoices,  236. 

OLD  Stage-coach,  The.  firm. 

"  On  the  Far-away  Banks  of  the  Nile,"  32. 


Our  Flag,  598. 

PARTNERSHIP  Arrangement,  A,  105*. 
Priscilla,  766. 

REUNION  Song,  111. 

SAD  Slory  of  the  Mouse,  The,  883. 

School-boy's  Song  of  the  School  Walk,  607. 

Snow-Flake,  The,  87. 

Song  of  the  Anvil,  The,  26. 

Stewed  Quaker,  867. 

Story  of  Corn  Bread  and  C'ows,  A,  934. 

Sure  Cure,  A,  286. 

Sweetmeat  Age,  The,  742. 

TROUBLESOME  Child,  A,  254. 
Two  Little  April  Fools,  383. 

UNTIDY  JANE,  176. 

WEARY  Wooden  Soldier,  The,  443. 
Where  the  Trolls  are  Busy,  303. 
Whippoorwill,  727. 

YOUNG  Fisherman's  Suggestions,  47. 


HARPE 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


Copyright,  1894,  by  HARPKH  &  BROTHKKS.     All  Ri^lits 


PUBLISHED    WEEKLY. 
VOL.   XVI. — NO.  784. 


XKW  YORK,  TUESDAY,  NOVEMBER  6.    1894 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO    DOLI.AKS    A    YEAR. 


AFLOAT    WITH    THE     FLAG. 


BY    W.  J.   HENDERSON. 


CHAPTER   I. 
THE  CAPTAIN'S  SORROW. 


CAPTAIN  HIRAM  LOCKWOOD  sat  gazing  out  of 
the  window  of  his  unpretentious  little  parlor  down 
the  hot  and  dusty  street  toward  the  glint  of  blue  which 
told  where  the  swift  tide  of  the  North  River  flowed  past. 
The  brown  lines  of  tall  masts  running  up  and  down  the 
shifting  faces  of  the  white  clouds,  and  the  yellow  festoons 
of  canvas  hanging  from  dark  yards,  made  a  picture  that 
might  at  anv  other  time  have  attracted  his  eager  atten- 


tion, but  just  now  they  were  lost  on  him,  hardy  old  mar- 
iner that  he  was,  and  full  of  a  real  love  for  nautical  pic- 
tures afloat  or  ashore.  His  mind  was  far  away,  and 
there  was  a  tnist  in  his  eyes  that  would  not  clear  up 
even  when  his  daughter  Minnie  came  and  laid  her  gen- 
tle arms  about  his  neck  and  kissed  him. 

"Father  dear,"  she  said,  "you  must  stop  worrying 
about  Bob,  or  you'll  be  sick." 

"My  dear  child,"  said  the  old  mariner,  "you  can't 
possibfy  understand  the  way  a  man  yearns  over  his  own 
llcsh  and  blood  when  it's  gone  astray." 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVL 


'•  But  we  don't  know  that  Bob's  gone  astray,  do  we?'1 

"  Well,  lie's  left  liis  home  without  his  father's  consent, 
child,  and  that  isn't  a  good  thing  for  any  one  to  do  at 
any  time  or  under  any  circumstances." 

"But  I'm  sure  he'll  come  back,  father." 

"But  when,  or  how?  Oh,  the  prodigal  son  is  a  very 
fine  fellow  when  he's  sighted  bearing  down  on  his  old 
home,  but  he  makes  a  heap  of  trouble  while  he's  adrift." 

"But,  father,  you  must  cheer  up  now.  Here  come 
the  boys." 

Three  stalwart  young  figures  were  seen  advancing  up 
the  street.  They  were  young  men  about  nineteen  years 
of  age,  and  all  were  strong,  active-looking  fellows,  with 
bright  eyes  and  sunburnt  faces.  They  came  along,  keep- 
ing exact  step,  with  a  free,  swinging  stride  and  well- 
squared  shoulders,  which  showed  the  results  of  sound 
training  somewhere.  And,  sure  enough,  these  young- 
fellows  had  just  been  through  four  years  of  the  most  sub- 
stantial mental  and  physical  education  that  can  be  ob- 
tained in  the  United  States,  or,  for  the  matter  of  that,  in 
all  the  world.  They  were  naval  cadets  fresh  from  the 
United  States  Naval  Academy  at  Annapolis.  One  of 
them,  a  dark  youth,  with  a  restless  impatient  expression 
on  his  countenance,  was  Frank  Lock  wood,  nephew  of  the 
Captain.  His  father  and  mother  had  both  died  while  he 
was  in  his  early  days  at  the  Academy,  and  now  his  uncle 
Hiram  was  his  guardian,  and  with  him  the  boy  made 
his  home.  The  boy  walking  in  the  middle  had  a  face 
that  was  full  of  free  careless  enjoyment  as  he  glanced 
right  and  left  at  the  open  windows  of  the  houses.  He 
was  George  Briscomb,  a  classmate  of  Frank.  The 
third  boy  was  more  thoughtful  in  appearance  than 
the  other  two.  though  he  was  undoubtedly  not  so  at- 
tractive to  look  upon.  His  name  was  Harold  King,  and 
he  was  also  a  classmate  of  Frank  Lockwood.  Both 
these  boys  lived  in  the  far  West,  and  had  decided  to  spend 
part  of  their  furlough  in  New  York  in  order  to  see  the 
sights  of  the  metropolis.  At  the  same  time  they  were 
in  hopes  that  they  would  speedily  receive  the  orders, 
which  for  some  reason  had  been  delayed,  attaching  them 
to  ships  for  the  customary  two  years'  cruise  which  all 
naval  cadets  must  make  after  completing  their  four  years 
at  the  Academy,  and  before  coming  up  for  final  examin- 
ation for  the  grade  of  Ensign.  As  they  came  up  to 
the  house,  they  waved  their  hands  to  the  Captain  and 
his  daughter,  and  entered  with  laughter  and  gay  words. 

"  Where  have  you  boys  been?"  asked  the  Captain. 

"Oh,  off  looking  at  the  war-ships  in  the  North  River," 
replied  Briscomb. 

"You  know  there  are  a  good  many  of  the  Columbian 
review  fleet  still  at  anchor  there,"  said  Harold,  "and  I 
think  it  is  the  duty  of  naval  cadets  to  learn  all  they  can 
about  them." 

"Exactly  my  sentiments,"  said  Frank,  "only  they 
make  a  fellow  feel  sore  about  his  own  navy.  Why, 
that  young  Brazilian  I  met  out  there,  Lieutenant  Rod- 
erigo  Bennos,  who  showed  me  over  the  ship,  simply 
laughed  at  me  when  I  told  him  I  thought  her  not  so 
good  as  the  New  York.  And  the  worst  of  it  was  he 
converted  me  before  he  got  through  talking-  to  me.  I 
tell  you,  Uncle  Hiram,  a  vessel  that  carries  four  9-inch 
guns  in  turrets  with  18  inches  of  armor,  and  has  a  lot  of 
70-pounder  Armstrongs  to  back  them,  is  good  enough  for 
me.  I'd  like  nothing  better  than  to  go  to  war  in  the 
Aquidaban." 

All  three  boys  suddenly  stopped  talking,  and  looked 
furtively  at  the  Captain,  who  was  watching  them  ear- 
nestly. 

"You've  been  aboard  the  Brazilian  battle-ship,  boys?" 
he  said,  gravely. 

"  Frank  has,  sir,"  said  Harold. 

"  We  didn't  go  because  we  thought  we  might  be  in  his 
way,"  added  George. 


"And  you  learned  nothing,  of  course,  Frank,  or  you 
would  have  told  me  right  away,"  said  the  Captain. 

"No,  Uncle  Hiram,"  answered  Frank,  "I  can't  say 
that  I  learned  anything  very  definite." 

"Very  definite?  Well,  did  you  learn  something  in- 
definite?" 

"I  hardly  know,"  replied  Frank.  "The  young  Lieu- 
tenant told  me  that  there  were  two  or  three  American 
boys  in  the  Brazilian  navy." 

"  But  you  gave  him  some  bearings  on  Bob,  didn't  you?" 
asked  the  Captain,  eagerly. 

"  Yes,  Uncle  Hiram,  of  course  I  did.  All  he  could  tell 
me  was  that  he  had  seen  a  young  American  with  reddish- 
brown  hair  and  very  dark  eyes  on  board  the  Tamandare 
just  before  he  sailed  north." 

"That  must  be  Bob!"  exclaimed  the  Captain;  "that 
must  be  my  boy." 

"Wait  a  moment,"  said  Harold.  "  How  old  was  your 
son  Robert  when  he  went  to  sea?" 

"Ran  away,  my  lad,  ran  away,"  replied  the  Captain. 
"  You  may  as  well  put  the  thing  in  plain  English.  I  did 
all  a  man  could  do  to  drive  all  notions  of  the  sea  out  of 
his  head,  and  I  did  hope  that,  being  brought  up  around 
ships  and  among  sailors,  he  would  have  seen  enough  of 
the  misery  of  the  business  to  stay  ashore.  But  he'd  got 
his  hands  in  the  tar-bucket,  and  I  suppose  he  had  to  go. 
Only,  if  he'd  just  have  come  to  me  and  said,  'Father,  I 
can't  stand  it,  and  I've  got  to  go  to  sea,'  why,  I'd  have 
sent  him,  though  I  reckon  it  would  have  made  me  feel 
pretty  bad,  too.  But  to  have  him  just  pack  up  his  dun- 
nage and  walk  off  without  a  minute's  warning,  or  as 
much  as  saying  good-by,  well,  it's  pretty  hard,  that's 
what  it  is — pretty  hard." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Hal,  "it  is  hard,  and  you  have  our 
sympathy,  I  can  assure  you." 

"Thank  ye,  heartily,"  answered  the  Captain. 

"But  you  haven't  answered  my  question  yet,"  con- 
tinued Harold. 

"How  old  was  he  when  he  went  away?  He  was  just 
fifteen  years  old,  my  lad." 

"  And  he's  been  gone  two  years?" 

"  Two  years  the  Fourth  o'  July." 

"Frank,  did  Mr.  Bennos  give  you  any  idea  how  old 
the  boy  was  that  he  saw  on  the  Tamandaref" 

"  Well,  he  said  he  was  a  big  strapping  fellow,  and  had 
a  small  mustache." 

The  Captain's  countenance  became  gloomier  than  ever. 
"That  couldn't  be  Bob,"  he  said,  shaking  his  head;  "you 
know  he  was  small  for  his  age,  Frank." 

"But  he  might  have  grown,  mightn't  he?"  asked  George. 
"  Sometimes  fellows  shoot  up  in  a  most  surprising  way. 
Why,  there's  Hal.  He  was  a  regular  sawed-off  a  year 
and  a  half  ago,  and  now  look  at  him — five  feet  eleven, 
and  still  growing." 

"But  what,  makes  you  feel  so  sure  that  your  son  is  in 
Brazil >"  asked  Harold. 

"Why,  when  I  made  inquiries  about  him  after  Jie'd 
gone,"  answered  the  Captain,  "  I  found  out  that  a  boy 
answering  his  description  had  shipped  on  a  schooner 
bound  for  the  Windward  Isles.  When  she  came  back, 
In'  wasn't  on  her,  but  her  Captain,  from  what  I  told  him, 
was  certain  that  he'd  had  my  boy  in  his  crew.  And  I'll 
go  so  far  as  to  say  that  he  told  me  Bob  was  going  to  make 
a  good  sailor.  Well,  the  worst  of  it  was  that  the  boy  ran 
away  from  the  schooner  down  there,  and  I  sent  my 
schooner,  the  Mary  Lockwood,  down  to  hunt  him  up. 
We  learned  that  he'd  shipped  on  a  schooner  bound 
for  Barbadoes.  I've  been  a-tracking  him  in  one  way  or 
another  ever  since,  but  I  lost  all  trace  of  him  three  months 
ago  in  Bahia.  I  couldn't  get  anything  except  a  sort  of  a 
rumor  about  him  there,  and  it  pointed  toward  Rio.  I 
suppose  the  end  of  it  '11  be  that  I'll  have  to  go  down  there 
myself." 


NOVEMBER  6,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


"I  think  it  would  be  the  best  thing  you  could  do, 
father,"  said  Minnie,  who  had  just  entered  the  room. 

"I  don't  know,  I'm  sure,"  said  the  Captain,  relapsing 
into  silence. 

"  It  wouldn't  take  a  great  deal,"  said  Frank,  "  to  in- 
duce me  to  resign  from  the  service,  and  ship  on  the 
Aquidaban  in  the  hope  of  finding  my  cousin  Bob." 

"Why,  Frank!"  exclaimed  Hal,  ''you're  talking  non- 
sense!" 

"Why  couldn't  we  all  three  go  to  search  for  him?'' 
cried  George. 

CHAPTER     II. 
ORDERS   THAT    MUST    BE    OBEYED. 

GEORGE'S  speech  was  received  with  the  sudden  silence 
of  astonishment.  After  a  few  moments  had  passed  away, 
during  which  time  all  seemed  to  be  lost  in  reflection,  the 
Captain  raised  his  head  and  said, 

"My  young  friend,  I  don't  think  I  quite  see  the  bear- 
ing of  that  last  remark  of  yours." 

"  And  I  must  admit,"  added  King,  "  that  I  don't  quite 
understand  your  idea  either,  Georgie.  Are  you  quite 
sure  you  understand  it  yourself?" 

"Now  just  hold  on  a  minute,"  said  George;  "  perhaps 
I  did  blurt  it  out  a  bit  hastily,  without  quite  reflecting, 
but  all  the  same  I  know  what  I  mean.  Give  me  a  min- 
ute or  two  to  think  it  out." 

They  all  sat  and  watched  him  gravely  while  he  en- 
deavored to  ''think  it  out."  Finally  he  said:  . 

"This  is  what  I  mean:  Here  are  Harold  and  I,  two 
classmates  and  close  friends  of  Frank  Lockwood.  Now 
his  cousin  runs  away  to  sea,  leaving  a  great  sorrow  be- 
hind him.  What  I  say  is  that  it  is  our  first  duty,  as  the 
friends  of  Frank  Lockwood,  to  join  with  him  in  the  search 
for  the  missing  Robert." 

"  But,  my  boy,"  said  Captain  Lockwood,  who  was  evi- 
dently much  moved  by  George's  earnestness,  "  aren't  you 
going  to  tli ink  of  your  own  future?" 

"How  do  you  mean,  sir?" 

"  Why,  if  you're  going  off  to  hunt  for  my  boy  Bob, 
how  about  your  duty  as  a  naval  cadet?" 

"  But  I  think  we  could  get  leave  of  absence  for  two  or 
three  months,  sir.  They  don't  seem  to  be  in  any  hurry 
at  Washington  to  attach  us  to  any  ships." 

"And  if  we  could  get  leave,"  said  Harold,  "what 
then?" 

"Why,  we'd  sail  in  one  of  Captain  Lock  wood's  vessels 
for  Rio  Janeiro,  and  begin  the  search  there.  You  needn't 
look  at  me  so  doubtfully,  Hal.  I  mean  just  what  I  say." 

"'  I  know  you  do,  George,  and  my  heart  is  with  you  in 
this  plan,  but  I  am  trying  to  examine  it  all  round,  to  see 
how  we  can  carry  it  out." 

"Captain  Lockwood,"  said  George,  "if  we  can  all 
three  get  leave  of  absence,  will  you  furnish  us  with  the 
ship?" 

"  That  I  will  not,"  said  the  Captain. 

The  boys  looked  at  him  in  astonishment. 

"  Don't  you  approve  of  my  plan?"  said  George. 

"No,  I  do  not,"  answered  the  Captain.  "And  if  I 
did,  I  shouldn't  start  you  down  on  a  sailing-craft.  Why, 
you  might  take  up  the  whole  of  your  leave  in  reaching 
Rio.  If  I  approved  of  your  plan,  I'd  buy  you  tickets 
there  and  back  by  one  of  the  mail-steamers.  But,  as  I 
said  before,  I  don't  approve." 

"  Why,  Uncle  Hiram?"  asked  Frank.  "Don't  you 
think  we  can  find  Robert?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  the  Captain.  "To  tell  you  the 
truth,  though,  I  more  than  half  believe  that  three  such 
bright  smart  fellows  would  do  it." 

"Then  why  won't  you  let  us  try?" 

"Because,"  replied  the  Captain,  "  I  can't  consent  to 
seeing  you  three  boys  take  a  step  that  might  get  the 
authorities  In  the  Navy  Department  down  011  you,  and 


spoil  your  whole  future.  You  take  my  advice,  and  don't 
you  go  to  doing  anything  so  foolish  as  to  ask  for  leave 
of  absence  right  at  the  beginning  of  your  service.  It'll 
hurt  you." 

The  three  boys  were  silent  for  several  minutes,  and 
all  of  them  looked  very  thoughtful.  At  length  Harold 
arose,  and  said, 

"Fellows,  you  want  to  find  the  Captain's  son  for  him 
if  it  can  be  done,  don't  you?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  will  you  shake  hands  with  me  that  we'll  all 
three  go  to  South  America  to  hunt  for  him,  provided  it 
can  be  done  without  asking  for  leave  of  absence?" 

"Certainly." 

"Then  what's  to  prevent  us  from  making  application 
to  the  department  to  be  attached  to  one  of  the  vessels  on 
the  South  Atlantic  station?  That'll  take  us  right  into 
Rio,  and  once  there,  we  can  easily  get  ashore  and  start 
the  search." 

"Hurrah!"  cried  George.  "  Hal,  you  have  a  big 
brain.  And  wasn't  I  stupid  not  to  think  of  that?" 

"This  plan  will  not  call  out  your  disapproval,  will  it, 
Captain?"  said  Hal. 

"No,  indeed,  my  lad,"  answered  the  Captain,  heartily. 
"I  can't  tell  you  how  grateful  I  am  to  you  two  boys  for 
your  friendship  to  Frank  and  me.  If  you  find  my  bov, 
the  good  Father  of  us  all  will  surely  reward  you." 

"Now,  fellows,"  said  Harold,  "let  us  shake  hands 
on  it.'' 

Just  at  that  moment  Minnie,  who  had  left  the  room, 
returned  with  two  long  envelopes  in  her  hand.  "Two 
letters,"  she  said;  "one  for  Harold  and  one  for  George." 

A  single  glance  at  the  envelopes  told  the  boys  what  to 
expect. 

"Orders!"  exclaimed  George. 

"  It  is  too  late  for  us  to  make  application  now,"  said 
Harold. 

"Perhaps  we  sha'n't  need  to,"  exclaimed  George, 
tearing  open  his  envelope.  "Let  us  see  where  we  are 
ordered  to." 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


THE  LITTLE  SCHOOLMA'AM. 

SIT.AK  of  queeu  aud  empress, 
Or  of  other  ladies  royal, 
Not  one  of  them  lias  half  the  power 

Or  subjects  half  so  loyal 
As  she,  the  little  schooluia'ani, 

Who  trips  along  the  way 
Ti>  take  the  chair  she  makes  a  throne 
At  iiiue  o'clock  each  day. 

Her  rule  is  ever  gentle ; 

Her  tones  are  low  and  sweet ; 
She  is  very  trim  aud  tidy 

From  her  head   unto  her  feet. 
And  it  matters  very  little 

If  her  eyes  be  brown  or  blue  ; 
They  simply  read  your  inmost  heart 

Whene'er  she  looks  at  you. 

The  children  bring  her  presents, 

Red  apples,  flowers  galore, 
For  all  tin-  merry  girls  and  hoys 

This  queen  of  theirs  adore. 
The.  darling  little  schoolma'am, 

Who  reigns  without  a  peer 
In   a  hundred  thousand  class-rooms 

This  gayly  Hying   year. 

MAIKIAKKT  K.  SAN< 


THE     BUILDING     OF    MODERN     WONDERS. 


THE    OCEAN     GREYHOUND. 


OVER  in  Philadelphia  will  be  launched  November  10th 
a  steamship,  which  popularly  has  been  called  the 
"first  American  Ocean  Greyhound."  The  event  is 
of  international  importance,  for  far-seeing  men  say  that 
it  means  that  this  country  is  again  to  take  its  former 
high  place  as  a  power  on  the  sea.  I  suppose  there  is  no 
one  of  intelligence  in  this  country  who  lias  not  read,  or 
does  not  know,  that  practically  in  the  first  half  of  this 
century  the  United  States  was  in  the  front  rank  in  sea- 
going commerce,  next  to  England  alone  in  the  number  of 
ships,  but  far  ahead  of  England  and  every  other  nation 
in  the  quality  of  these  vessels.  Then  came  the  civil  war, 
and  with  it  iron  ships,  and  the  American  flag  disappeared 
from  the  ocean  as  if  it  had  been  wiped  out  by  some  power 
of  tremendous  magic.  Except  for  suppling  the  coast- 
wise trade  and  placing  four  ships  on  a  line  from  Phila- 
delphia to  Liverpool,  this  country  ceased  practically  to 
build  ships. 

Then  the  new  navy  came  into  existence,  and  the  world 
saw  that  the  United  States  not  only  had  not  forgotten 
how  to  build  ships,  but  that  in  quality  this  country  could 
still  surpass  the  world.  Large  ship-building  plants  were 
developed  in  this  way,  and  it  was  seen  that  the  time  for 
the  restoration  of  the  American  flag  to  the  high  seas  had 
come.  The  Inman  steamship  line,  operated  under  the 
English  flag,  was  really  owned  by  Americans,  and  at  last 
Congress  gave  permission  to  the  owners  of  that  line  to 
raise  the  flag  of  this  country  on  two  of  its  vessels,  the 
New  York  and  Paris,  at  that  time  two  of  the  fastest  ships 
yet  built.  Raising  the  flag  on  these  ships  meant  that 
they  were  imported  into  this  country  free  of  duty,  a  most 
unusual  exception  to  the  law  of  the  land;  but  it  was  to  be 


BENDING    A    PLATE 


on  one  most  important  condition — that  the  owners  should 
cause  to  be  built  in  this  country  at  least  two  ships  of 
equal  quality. 

That  is  the  way  we  came  to  build  this  new  greyhound, 
the  St.  Louis,  which  is  just  being  launched,  and  the  St. 
Paul,  which  is  soon  to  follow  the  St.  Louis.  These  ves- 
sels are  larger  than  the  Paris  and  New  York,  and  of 
course  are  expected  to  be  faster,  but  they  will  not  equal 
the  Campania  or  Lucania.  They  are  to  be  the  prede- 
cessors, however,  of  two  other  ships,  which,  it  is  expected, 
will  not  only  surpass  anything  afloat,  but  will  be  un- 
beatable. Indeed,  Mr.  Cramp,  the  head  of  the  great  ship- 
building company  in  Philadelphia,  has  said  of  these  two 
forth-coming  vessels,  "  They  will  not  shrink  from  a,ny 
comparison  or  competition." 

Thus  we  see  how  important  an  event  the  launch  of  the 
St.  Louis  is.  To  build  a  vessel  such  as  this  requires 
two  years  of  most  skilful  and  delicate  work.  As  Mr. 
Cramp  said,  these  "ships  are  American  from  truck  to 
keelson.  No  foreign  materials  enter  into  their  construc- 
tion. They  are  of  American  model  and  design,  of  Amer- 
ican material,  and  they  are  being  built  by  American  skill 
and  muscle."  He  might  have  added  that  they  are  almost 
exclusively  products  of  the  State  of  Pennsylvania. 

In  building  a  steamship  there  are  two  great  depart- 
ments.     One  has  to  do  with  the  machinery,  and  the  other 
has  to  do  with  the  hull  in  which  the  machinery  is  placed. 
The  first  thing  that  is  done  is  to  prepare  a  "scheme." 
The  owners  and  the  builders  talk  over  the  matter  of  size, 
speed,  space  for  passengers  of  various  kinds,  and  space 
for  freight.      Rough    sketches    are  drawn,  this  and  that 
matter  compromised,  and  finally  a  rough  estimate  of  the 
cost  is  made.  Then  "  general  drawings" 
are   made,  which    include    a    cross-sec- 
tion, a  longitudinal  section,  and  a  wa- 
ter-line plan.     These  being  acceptable, 
the  contract  is  made  and  work  begins 
in  earnest. 

The  first  thing  is  to  prepare  a  model. 
This  is  the  most  important  work  of  all, 
for  it  is  the  ship  in  miniature.  Appar- 
ently it  is  only  half  a  model,  for  it 
shows  only  half  of  the  hull.  It  is  as  if 
you  had  cut  the  ship  exactly  in  half 
from  stem  to  stern,  and  kept  only  one 
half.  Most  delicate  calculation  is  made 
in  this  model.  The  most  complex 
mathematics  are  used,  and  with  exceed- 
ing care  every  part  of  the  model  is 
shaped.  Beginning  at  the  centre,  the 
depth  and  width  are  fixed,  and  then  the 
vessel  slopes  away  to  bow  and  stern  in 
curving  lines.  The  first  requisite  is  to 
secure  a  stable  ship.  English  designers 
pay  little  attention  to  this,  for  if  a  vessel 
is  top-heavy  they  load  a  lot  of  water  in 
its  bottom  to  make  it  sit  low  in  the  wa- 
ter, so  that  it  can't  tip  over.  Mr.  Cramp 
thinks  this  is  a  bad  practice.  He  doesn't 
believe  in  carrying  ton  after  ton  of  wa- 
ter across  the  ocean,  when  this  room 
might  be  used  for  freight.  Nor  does  he 
think  that  the  safety  of  passengers  and 
cargo  ought  to  be  at  the  mercy,  as  he 
s:iys,  of  some  "tipsy  tank  -  trimmer." 
Therefore  Mr.  Cramp  made  sure  first 
that  the  St.  Louis  would  be  stable,  so 
that,  almost  no  matter  what  accident 


NOVEMBER  6,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


->-". 

AT    WORK    ON    THE   MODEL. 


might  befall  the  vessel,  it  would  float.  The  reason  why 
only  one-half  the  ship  is  modelled  is  because  the  other 
half  must  correspond  exactly  to  it,  to  prevent  it  from 
being  lop-sided,  and  the  best  way  to  make  sure  of  that 
is  to  reverse  the  plans  for  one  side,  and  thus  make  the 
plans  for  the  other  side. 

The  model  prepared,  the  next  thing  is  to  "lay  down" 
the  ship  in  the  mould  loft.  This  loft  is  a  long  rectangu- 
lar building,  with  a  spare  black  floor  that  may  be  lifted 
out  in  sections.  This 
extra  floor  is  called  a 
"  scrive  -  board."  On 
it  are  marked  chalk 
squares  at  intervals  of 
every  thirty  inches,  and 
what  is  called  a  "base- 
line "  runs  along  its  en- 
tire length  on  one  side 
of  the  building.  This 
line  represents  where 
the  vessel  is  cut  in  two 
from  bow  to  stern.  Now 
for  nearly  nine  months 
the  men  in  that  mould 
loft  will  be  drawing 
white  chalk  lines  on 
that  detachable  floor. 
These  lines  are  mostly 
in  beautiful  curves,  and 
as  you  stand  and  look 
at  them  they  are  the 
most  confusing  things 
you  ever  saw.  The 
chief  moulder  will  take 
you  from  place  to  place 
in  the  loft,  and  in  the 
most  matter-of-fact  way 
will  tell  you  that  here 
is  the  body  plan,  there 
is  the  bow,  and  there 
is  the  stern,  and  that 
looking  at  these  lines  on 
the  floor  you  can  see  the 
entire  ship  just  as  if  it 


stood  up  right  in  that  place  before  your 
eyes.      He  can  see  it  that  way.  no  doubt, 
but  I  own  that  it  has  taken  me  several 
days  before  I  could  see  even  part  of  a 
vessel  lying  there.     Lines  upon  lines  go 
curving  here  and  there,  and  in  one  place 
you    see   them   all   drawn   in,  like    the 
webbing  on    a  balloon,  to   one   vertical 
line,  and  you    can  easily  imagine  that 
this  represents   the  stern  of  the  vessel. 
You  can   also   see  the  bow  after  long 
study,  but  the   "  longitudinal  sections" 
and    the  "diagonals,"    which   are  lines 
made  simply  to  test  the  accuracy  of  the 
drawings,  are  so  plentiful  and  complex 
as  to  mix  you  up.     Well,  the  result  of 
all  this  drawing  on  the  floor  is  that  ev- 
ery frame  used  in  the  ship,  every  plate 
that  is  put  on  the   outside,  every  beam 
and  deck  support,  as  well  as  every  deck, 
is  marked  out  on  that  board,  and  fash- 
ioned from  this  little  half-model   which 
I    have  described.      The    measurements 
of  that  half  boat  are  placed  on  the  floor 
in  full  size.     If  you  are  an  expert  at  it 
you  can  see,  as  you   look  at  the  floor, 
how  every   frame  would    lie  if  it    had 
been  placed  erect  in  this  building,  and 
had  been  allowed,  for  example,  to   fall 
forward  flat  on    the  floor.      You   can  see  how  the   sides 
of    the   ship,  those    long    strips  that   run  from    bow   to 
stern,  and  which   are   called    "strakes,"  would   look    if 
they    fell    in    and    were    flattened    on    the    floor.      In- 
deed, the  whole  ship  lies  there,  theoretically,  as  if  some 
giant  had  come  along  and  crushed  it  to  the  floor,  so  that 
only  the  outlines  of  frames  and  plates,  supports,  and  all 
kinds  of  sections,  remained.      This  describes  a  mould  loft 
as  I  have  been  able  to  see  it  after  almost  a  dozen  close 


SHAPING    A    STEEL    RIB    ON    THE    CHECKER-BOARD. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


inspections,  and  here  it  is  tbat  the  hull   is    really  fash- 
ioned. 

Now  comes  the  real  work  on  the  actual  hull.  The 
sections  of  these  liscrive-boards  "  are  taken  down  stairs; 
wooden  patterns  of  every  frame  and  plate  are  made  and 
bent  so  as  to  conform  to  the  curves  exactly.  Then  the 
frames,  each  marked  and  labelled,  are  taken  to  a  "  bend- 
ing -table,"  where  the  iron  and  steel  counterparts  are 
made.  This  bend  ing-table  looks  like  a  monster  checker- 
board. It  is  of  iron,  and  full  of  square  holes  for  the 
black  spaces  on  the  checker- board.  At  one  side  are 
three  or  four  long  furnaces.  They  look  like  long  tree- 
boxes.  Bright  fires  are  under  them,  and  inside  are 
placed  the  frames  and  plates  which  ai-e  to  be  bent.  The 
pattern  is  brought  in,  and  a  chalk  line  drawn  across  this 
checker-board,  and  then  pegs  with  round  tops  and  square 
pins  beneath  them  are  fitted  along  these  chalk  lines,  and 
held  in  place  by  bent  irons  that  look  like  the  old-time 
freight  coupling-irons  bent  out  of  shape.  These  irons 
are  called  "dogs,"  but  I  can  assure  you  they  are  sorry- 
looking  specimens. 

Strong  workmen  stand  about  with  sledges,  and  finally 
one  of  them  pulls  his  cap  down  over  his  eyes,  takes  a 
long  pair  of  tongs  with  him,  and  goes  to  the  door  of  the 
furnace,  which  has  been  pulled  up,  thrusts  the  tongs 
in,  and  catches  hold  of  the  plate  or  frame,  which  has 
come  from  the  iron -mill  flat  and  straight.  The  men 
catch  hold  of  a  rope  attached  to  the  tongs,  and  they 
drag  the  red-hot  fish  they  have  caught  out  on  the 
checker-board,  and  they  pin  it  down  with  more '"dogs," 
and  by  vigorous  pounding  bend  it  up  against  the  curved 
pegs,  and  make  it  exactly  the  shape  of  the  wooden  pat- 
tern by  the  time  it  gets  cold.  Then  the  pattern  is  re- 
versed on  the  checker-board,  chalked  out,  and  a  reverse 
frame  or  plate  for  the  other  side  of  the  ship  is  made. 
Thus  bit  by  bit  the  hull  of  the  ship  is  made,  and  is  now 
ready  to  be  put  together. 

In  erecting  a  ship  a  lot  of  preparatory  work  is  neces- 
sary. The  blocks  for  launching  (strange  one  would 
think  at  first)  must  be  laid  down  first.  They  are  about 
three  feet  apart,  and  rise  higher  and  higher,  so  as  to  give 
the  ship  a  proper  grade  for  gliding  into  the  water. 
Then  a  stout  steel  keel  is  placed  on  them.  This  is  the 
backbone  of  the  ship.  The  two  frames  for  the  centre  of 
the  vessel  are  brought  out,  and  with  extreme  care  are 
placed  in  position,  and  then  the  other  frames  follow  fore 
and  al'i.  and  the  outside  plates  are  .riveted  on  with 
much  hammering,  and  a  noise  that  resembles  a  regiment 
of  soldiers  tiring  rapidly  in  some  skirmish.  The  interior 
braces  are  placed  in  position,  deck  frame  after  deck  frame 
goes  in,  and  in  about  a  year  the  ship  is  ready  for  launch- 
ing. Wood-work  by  the  mile  is  being  placed  on  board 
and  finished  up,  and  a  regiment  of  draughtsmen  are 
kept  busy  preparing  plans. 

While  all  this  is  going  on,  the  engines  are  being-  made 
in  other  shops.  There  are  big  frames  in  which  they  sit 
and  do  their  work,  there  are  cylinders  and  shafts,  con- 
densers and  pumps,  to  be  made  and  planned  for;  Wrights 
are  to  be  adjusted,  and  strains  and  pressures  are  to  be 
provided  for;  castings  must  be  made,  boilers  riveted  to- 
gether, rough  edges  must  be  planed,  and  enormous  cranes 
and  other  big  tools  must  be-  used  to  make  two  of  these 
engines  for  our  twin  screwed  merchantman.  There  must 
be  an  engine  to  each  screw,  and  as  the  pistons  churn  up 
and  down  they  turn  a  shaft  which  makes  the  screw  on 
the  side  of  the  ship  near  the  stern  go  around  and  push 
the  ship  forward.  After  the  engines  are  built  they  art- 
erected  first  in  the  machine  shop,  and  then  part  by  part 
are  placed  and  fitted  in  the  ship,  some  before  launching* 
and  some  afterwards.  The  vessel  is  launched  with  a  good 
deal  of  ceremony.  The  machinists,  wood-workers,  up- 
holsterers, riggers,  come  and  go,  and  about  two  years 
from  the  time  that  the  lines  were  laid  down  in  the  mould 


loft  the  ship  is  completed.      In  round  numbers  from  4000 
to  5000  men  have  worked  on  it  in  one  way  or  another. 

This  in  a  general  way  tells  how  the  St.  Louis  was 
built.  If  it  were  a  naval  vessel  every  inch  would  be  open 
to  the  inspection  of  the  public.  As  it  is  a  private  con- 
tract, and  as  there  is  great  competition  in  the  ocean-grey- 
hound business,  the  owners  and  contractors  reserve  for 
themselves  the  secrets  of  the  ship,  except  in  certain  par- 
ticulars, such  as  general  dimensions.  This  much  may  be 
said:  The  St.  Louis  has  a  tonnage  of  about  11,000,  about 
500  more  than  the  Neic  York  and  Paris ;  is  536  feet  long 
on  the  water-line,  10  feet  more  than  the  New  York  or 
Paris;  is  63  feet  broad,  or  the  same  width  as  those  two 
ships;  and  has  a  capacity  for  1420  passengers— 320  of  the 
first  class,  200  of  the  second  class,  and  900  of  the  third 
class.  The  cost,  of  course,  the  owners  do  not  care  to 
give,  but  it  is  safe  to  say  that  it  is  somewhere  about 
&2, 000, 000.  The  speed,  by  government  requirements, 
must  be  twenty  knots  an  hour,  for  the  ship  must  be  of 
the  first  class,  and  that  class  requires  that  speed.  Those 
who  have  watched  the  work  of  the  Cramps  in  building 
naval  vessels  know  that  there  will  be  no  trouble  about 
speed,  and  it  is  safe  to  say  that  the  St.  Louis  and  St.  Paul 
will  beat  the  New  York  and  Paris  handsomely. 

A  very  great  advantage  to  this  country  in  the  construc- 
tion of  these  ships  is  that  in  time  of  war  they  may  be 
used  as  cruisers,  and  thus  add  immensely  to  our  naval 
strength.  These  two  ships  are  to  be  followed  by  two 
others,  however,  which  undoubtedly  will  be  the  pride  of 
the  American  nation.  Although  I  confess  that  I  know 
something'  about  these  ships,  I  must  not  at  present  say 
much  about  them.  They  will  give  our  English  friends 
much  uneasiness,  I  imagine,  for  soon  our  neighbors  will 
realize  that  at  last  the  United  States  is  to  enter  into  com- 
petition with  Great  Britain  in  the  field  where  she  is  most 
sensitive — that  of  ocean-going  commerce.  I  do  not  know 
that  I  can  better  close  this  article  than  by  quoting  what 
Mr.  Cramp  has  said  on  this  subject: 

"  The  work  we  have  in  hand  is  only  the  beginning. 
It  is  a  pretty  fair  start,  but  if  they  (the  English)  should 
ask  you  what  the  future  has  in  store,  you  may  tell  them. 
in  the  words  of  our  Paul  Jones,  on  a  certain  occasion 
well  remembered  by  Englishmen,  that  '  we  are  just  be- 
ginning to  fight."1  A.  F.  M. 


FLUFFY. 

BY   JULIET  WILBOR  TOMPKINS. 

HE  came  across  from  China 
In  a  lovely  White  Star  liner, 

And   you  ought  to  bear  the  name  that  doggie  brought. 
But  'twould  take  too  long  to  tell   it, 
And,  besides,  I  couldn't  spell  it, 
So  suppose  wo  call  him  Fluffy  just  for  short. 

He'd  the  sweetest  disposition, 

And  he  lilced  his  new   position, 
And  our  funny,  busy  laud  across  the  seas; 

Finding'  dogs  of  every  nation 

Standing  round  him  at  the  station. 
He  addressed  them  in  bis  very  best  Chiuese. 

But  they  growled,  and  seemed  to  hate  him, 

For  they  couldn't  one  translate  him. 
And  lie  found  himself  in  quite  a  dreadful  row; 

Till  his  mistress  came  and  caught  him, 

And  most  patiently  she  taught  him 
How  to  talk  the  real  American  bow-wow. 

The  language   wasn't  easy, 

And  his  phrases  are  Chinesey, 
While  a  slightly  foreign  accent  still  prevails; 

But  lie's  paid  for  all  his  labors 

By  the  friendship  of  his  neighbors, 
For  they  smile  at  him  and  wag  their  little  tails 


NOVEMBER  6,  1S94. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


THE  DIVER'S   STORY. 

BY   ALBERT    LEE. 

•'  1T7HEN  I  was  a  diver,"  began  the  BoVn,  knocking 

T  *  the  ashes  off  his  pipe,  and  without  any  introduc- 
tion or  preliminary  cough  to  attract  the  boys'  attention 
—  "when  I  was  a  diver — 

"But  you  never  to'd  us  you  had  been  a  diver,"  ex- 
claimed the  Little  Boy  from  Across  the  Street,  laying  aside 
a  very  badly  tangled  fish-line  and  glancing  up  at  the  old 
man  iu  a  suspicious  manner.  The  other  two  boys,  who 
had  likewise  been  preparing  for  the  morrow's  fishing  ex- 
pedition, dropped  their  hooks  and  tackle,  and  came  over 
from  the  rear  end  of  the  boat-house  to  the  doorway,  where 
the  Bo's'n  sat  smoking  his  pipe. 

"  Did  you  say  you  had  been  a  diver?"  asked  Eric,  who 
could  tell  from  the  way  the  old  salt  had  crossed  his  legs 
and  was  gazing  into  the  bowl  of  his  pipe  that  he  was 
preparing  to  tell  a  story.  The  Bo's'n  always  seemed  to 
draw  his  inspiration  from  the  glowing  bowl  of  his  black 
clay. 

"  That  schooner  there  made  me  think  of  it,"  he  an- 
swered, and  the  boys  glanced  seaward  and  saw  a  weather- 
worn old  two-master  beating  her  way  slowly  down  the 
channel  toward  the  light-house.  They  looked  from 
the  schooner  to  their  old  sailor  friend  in  a  questioning 
way. 

"  I  noticed  her  name  as  she  passed  by,"  he  said.  "She's 
the  Latona,  of  Bath.  I  came  pretty  near  ending  my 
days  in  the  hold  of  the  wrecked  steamship  Lodona,  of 
New  Orleans,  about  twenty-five  year  ago,"  and  he  puffed 
at  his  pipe,  and  looked  earnestly  into  the  red  eye  of  the 
bowl  as  if  he  could  read  there  the  events  of  a  quarter  of 
a  century  ago. 

''  But  you  never  told  us  you  had  been  a  diver,"  repeated 
the  Little  Boy  from  Across  the  Street,  and  he  looked 
inquiringly  toward  Eric  and  his  brother,  to  see  if  they 
had  ever  had  this  mysterious  fact  confided  to  them.  But 
they  shook  their  heads,  and  quickly  turned  their  atten- 
tion to  the  Bo's'n  again. 

"There's  many  a  thing  I  haven't  told  you,"  said  the 
latter;  "but  this  story  of  the  Lodona  isn't  long,  and  I 
guess  I  can  spin  you  the  yarn  before  the  schooner  there 
gets  around  the  point." 

The  three  boys  sat  down  on  the  bottom  of  the  old  boat 
and  prepared  to  give  their  undivided  attention. 

"  It  was  after  the  war  had  been  over  some  ten  year, 
and  I'd  been  out  of  the  navy  some  eight  year,"  the  old 
fellow  began,  meditatively.  "I'd  been  trading  in  South 
Africa,  as  I  told  you  about,  but  I  got  tired  of  that,  and 
finally  came  home  and  went  into  partnership  with  my 
brother  down  in  Maine.  He  was  a  diver,  and  had  a 
couple  of  wrecking-tugs,  and  did  a  good  business.  I 
learned  how  to  dive,  and  after  a  while  I  got  so  I  was 
pretty  good  at  it,.  I  liked  the  excitement  and  the  dan- 
gers of  tne  work.  I  was  a  young  man  then,  and 
willing  to  take  foolish  risks.  Well,  one  day  I  heard 
that  the  steamer  Lodona,  bound  from  New  Orleans  to 
New  York,  had  struck  on  a  reef  about  seventy-five  miles 
southeast  of  Jacksonville,  and  had  gone  to  the  bottom 
with  all  on  board.  She  had  a  valuable  cargo  inside  of 
her,  among  other  things  half  a  dozen  Gatling-guns  that 
belonged  to  the  government.  I  negotiated  with  the  in- 
surance people  to  recover  the  cargo,  a^nd  secured  the  con- 
tract; but  I  was  foolish  enough  to  leave  my  own  wreck- 
ing-vessel and  crew  at  home,  depending  on  getting  a  boat 
and  capable  men  at  Jacksonville.  But  when  I  got  down 
there  I  found  that  the  only  craft  I  could  hire  was  one  of 
those  light  schooners  used  in  the  sponging  business,  which, 
with  a  little  pirating,  was  the  only  means  of  subsistence 
the  crew  had,  I  guess.  They  were  the  most  ignorant  set 
of  men  I  ever  had  dealings  with;  some  were  white  and 


some  were  negroes,  and  I  guess  they  were  all  related  by 
birth  or  by  marriage.  They  were  lazy  and  brutal,  but,  as 
I  could  not  do  any  better,  I  had  to  employ  them. 

"When  we  got  to  the  reef  where  the  Lodona  had  gone 
down  I  made  a  preliminary  examination,  and  found  that 
the  bow  was  well  under  water,  as  well  as  the  hatches  for- 
ward and  amidships.  The  after-hatch  was  partly  sub- 
merged at  high  tide,  but  I  found  I  could  get  into  the  hold 
by  that  way,  and  so  I  rigged  up  my  pumps  on  the  stern 
of  the  vessel,  and  the  next  morning  made  my  first  descent 
into  the  ship. 

"  I  was  distrustful  of  my  crew,  and  made  shorter  dives 
than  I  would  ordinarily;  but  although  there  was  no  dis- 
cipline, and  the  captain  seemed  to  have  no  more  authority 
than  any  of  his  men,  they  kept  at  work,  and  hauled  out 
the  boxes  and  barrels  as  fast  as  I  sent  up  the  signals  from 
below. 

"I  had  found  out  from  the  shippers  that  the  Gatling- 
guns  were  stowed  away  pretty  well  forward,  and  I  made 
up  my  mind  that  the  easiest  and  quickest  way  to  get  at 
them  would  be  to  make  a  passageway  through  the  rest 
of  the  cargo  by  removing  the  boxes  and  barrels  that  lay 
between  the  after-hatch  and  the  guns.  The  cargo  con- 
sisted of  molasses,  sugar,  linseed  oil,  spirits,  silks,  dress- 
goods  and  such  things,  and  as  fast  as  I  would  loosen  a 
box  or  barrel  I  would  make  it  fast  to  the  tackle,  and  the 
men  would  pull  it  up  on  deck  and  send  it  ashore  in  the 
row-boat. 

"  Along  in  the  afternoon  of  Ihe  third  day  I  went  down 
for  my  last  dive,  and  calculated  that  a  couple  of  hours' 
work  would  bring  me  pretty  close  to  the  Gatling-guns. 
I  had  been  sending  up  boxes  and  barrels  for  an  hour  or 
so,  and  was  bending  over  a  big  case,  when  suddenly  I  felt 
my  air  and  signal  lines  moving  without  any  apparent 
cause.  I  turned  around  to  see  what  the  trouble  was.  and 
found  my  way  back  completely  barred.  A  big  box,  that 
had  liecome  loosened  from  having  the  heavy  things  on 
top  of  it  removed,  had  floated  to  the  roof  of  the  deck.  A 
moment  before  I  had  walked  over  it,  and  now  it  blocked' 
my  way.  I  tried  to  move  it,  but  I  might  as  well  have 
tried  to  move  the  steamer.  I  tried  to  make  a  passage 
around  it,  but  I  could  barely  get  my  arm  between  the 
box  and  the  rest  of  the  cargo.  Fortunately  my  air  line 
had  slipped  off  the  top  of  the  box  as  it  rose,  and  lay  along 
the  side,  or  it  would  surely  have  been  caught  and  crushed 
between  the  case  and  the  deck. 

"The  horror  of  my  situation  grew  upon  me  as  I  thought 
of  the  ignorant  brutes  at  the  air-pumps  and  the  windlass 
on  deck.  I  had  no  telephone,  as  divers  have  nowadays, 
and  there  was  nothing  in  the  signal-code  to  explain  my 
situation.  Even  if  there  had  been,  it  is  doubtful  if  the 
crew  would  have  understood.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I 
was  imprisoned  in  that  dark  watery  hold  with  no  hope  of 
escape.  I  made  up  my  mind  that  tny  time  had  come. 
I  knew  that  when  the  men  began  to  pull,  as  they  doubt- 
less soon  would,  and  felt  the  resistance,  they  would  work 
the  windlass  all  the  harder,  and  snap  both  lines.  Then  I 
would  drown  in  my  prison. 

"I  felt  in  my  belt  for  my  sheath-knife,  but  it  had  be- 
come loosened,  and  the  wooden  handle  had  let  it  float  off 
above  me.  I  knew  it  must  be  hanging  somewhere  about 
me,  and  I  shuddered  at  the  possibility  of  my  air-tube  ruli- 
bing  against  its  keen  edge.  Then  I  looked  for  the  little 
iron  crowbar  I  had  used  in  dislodging  the  bales  and 
boxes,  and  I  remembered  I  had  left  that  on  the  other  side 
of  the  big  box  which  was  now  shutting  me  off  from  life 
and  liberty.  For  half  an  hour  or  more  I  must  have  given 
myself  up  to  the  inaction  of  despair.  Then  I  pulled  my 
self  together  and  tried  to  settle  my  nerves  and  to  re 
out  the  situation.  I  knew  reason  could  not  move  the 
box,  but  it  might  furnish  some  suggestion  that  I  could 
act  on.  And  sure  enough  it  did.  I  reasoned  it  out  that 
the  cause  of  the  box  floating-  up  as  it  did  must,  be  because 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME    XVI. 


NO    SOUND    WAS    EVER    SWEETER    TO    ANY   MAN. 

it  was  full  of  air.  The  box  must  contain  silks,  packed 
in  tin  or  zinc  so  as  to  be  air-tight.  Then  I  figured  that 
if  I  could  only  break  into  the  zinc  lining  and  let  the  air 
out,  the  box  would  sink,  and  I  could  escape  over  it.  But 
how  could  I  pierce  the  boards  and  metal  of  this  box  with- 
out any  knife  or  crowbar?  I  could  not  tear  it  apart  with 
my  finger  nails.  My  little  prison  was  so  narrow  and 
cramped,  too,  that  I  could  hardly  move  about  to  search 
for  a  weapon.  And  all  this  while  time  must  be  passing 
rapidly.  I  had  no  idea  how  long  I  had  been  imprisoned, 
and  I  feared  every  moment  the  crew  would  stop  pumping 
to  me.  Several  times  the  air  current  weakened,  and  I 
thought  my  end  had  come  at  last. 

"Finally,  in  feeling  around,  my  fingers  met  with  the 
iron  binding  of  the  case.  I  tore  fiercely  at  this  thin 
strip,  and  struggled  with  the  sense  of  desperation  down 
there  in  the  darkness  until  gradually  I  felt  it  loosen.  For 
an  hour,  I  suppose,  I  tugged  at  it  before  I  got  my  fingers 
between  the  iron  band  and  the  box,  and  then  I  tore  it 


away  and  broke  off  a  piece  about  a  foot 
long.  Using  this  scrap  as  a  saw,  I  at- 
tacked one  edge  of  the  big  box,  hewing 
and  sawing -with  all  my  strength.  For 
four  mortal  hours  I  worked, and  I  thought 
I  should  never  pierce  the  thick  zinc  lin- 
ing inside  that  box.  But  at  last  I  made 
a  hole,  and  I  heard  the  air  come  bub- 
bling out  of  my  prison  door.  No  sound 
was  ever  sweeter  to  any  man  ! 

"  The  box  sank  slowly,  and  I  aided  it 
by  pushing  down  on  it,  and  as  soon  as  I 
could  I  climbed  over  it  and  fell  down 
on  the  other  side  almost  tired  out,  but 
with  strength  enough  left  to  grope  my 
way  back  to  the  after-hatch. 

"The  danger  that  I  had  dreaded  most 
while  imprisoned  in  the  hold  was  that 
the  men  would  grow  impatient  at  my 
long  absence,  and  begin  to  work  the 
windlass  to  pull  me  up.  My  surprise 
was  that  they  did  not  do  this,  but  con- 
tinued pumping.  I  knew  that  it  must 
be  late  in  the  night. 

"  As  my  head  emerged  above  the  hatch 
I  felt  myself  jerked  up  on  the  deck,  and 
my  helmet  hastily  removed.  I  looked 
up  at  the  bright  stars  of  heaven,  and 
drew  in  a  long  breath.  Then  I  looked 
around  the  deck,  and  saw  why  my  men 
had  not  tried  to  pull  me  out  of  the  hold. 
They  were  every  one  of  them  asleep  ex- 
cept, the  old  negro,  who  now  stood  at 
my  side,  and  who  had  been  steadily 
pumping  air  to  me  for  almost  ten  hours. 
"He  explained  to  me  that  at  supper- 
time  the  men  had  decided  to  stop  work, 
since  they  had  not  heard  anything  from 
me  for  two  hours.  They  concluded  I 
was  drowned,  and  said  there  was  no  use 
in  pumping  air  to  a  dead  man.  They 
did  not  even  think  it  was  worth  while 
to  pull  my  body  up  out  of  the  hold; 
and  I  am  grateful  to  them  for  that!  But 
the  old  negro  insisted  that  I  was  not 
dead,  and  said  he  was  going  to  keep  on 
pumping,  anyhow.  The  others  made  all 
sorts  of  fun  of  him.  They  cooked  their 
supper,  and  refused  to  give  any  to  the 
negro,  who  still  refused  to  leave  the 
pump  even  for  a  moment. 

"  '  I  didn't  forget, Cap'n,'  he  said  to  me, 
'  dat   you    done  give  me  money  to  help 
cure  my  wife  'fore  we  left  Jacksonville.' 
"  When  he  had  finished  telling  me  this  story  he  rolled 
up  his  sleeves,  and  after  drinking  all  the  cold  coffee  there 
was  left  in  the  can,  he  went  over  to  where  the  crew  were 
sleeping,  and  threw  every  one  of  them  into  the  water  be- 
fore they  could  wake  up  and  defend  themselves.      There 
was  the  biggest  row  on  that  wreck  I  ever  saw.    The  crew 
were  floundering  in  the  water,  and  the  negro  on  deck  was 
shouting  about  revenge.      As  each  man  tried  to  climb  on 
board  again,  the  negro  would  kick  him  back  into  the  wa- 
ter.     Finally  I  had  to  interfere,  and  when  the  crew  got 
on  deck  I  was  forced  to  draw  my  revolver  to  keep  them 
from  killing  my  life-saver. 

"  With  such  a  lot  of  brutes  as  that  I  decided  that  I  did 
not  care  to  dive  into  the  Lodona  any  more.  So  I  loaded 
the  schooner  with  what  little  I  had  saved,  and  made  for 
Jacksonville." 

The  three  boys  kicked  their  feet  against  the  sides  of  the 
upturned  boat  for  a  few  moments,  without  saying  any- 
thing. 


FALES'S    OSHIA. 


BY     EVA     WILDER      McGLASSON. 


CHAPTER   I. 


BROTHER  AMOS  GRAY  had  an  excited  and  anxious 
air  about  him  as  he  went  up  the  steps  of  West 
House.  When  he  laid  hold  of  the  door-knob,  however, 
he  fetched  up  rather  short,  and  stood  knotting  his  lean 
upper  lip  in  a  meditative  sort  of  way.  In  point  of  fact. 
he  was  arranging  in  neat  phrases  the  news  he  was  carry- 
ing to  the  Eldress.  And  as  he  did  so  lie  gazed  with  an 
unseeing  eye  upon  the  smooth  summer  fields,  rippling  up 
to  the  very  feet  of  the  Shaker  settlement.  The  road  lay 
hard  and  white  before  him.  Across  it  rose  the  meeting- 
house, white,  stiff,  plain,  with  windows  so  closely  shut- 
tered as  to  give  it  an  effect  of  blindness.  Other  Shaker 
buildings  rose  big  and  stolid  on  the  view.  Nothing 
looked  very  cheerful  except  the  breezy  greenness  of  the 
trees  and  grass,  the  melting  blue  of  the  sky,  one  ancient 
rose-bush  blushing  against  a  wall  hard  by  the  church, 
and  the  broom  shop  over  the  way.  The  broom  shop  al- 
ways looked  worldly  and  comfortable.  It  was  a  low  red 
house,  about  the  sides  of  which  a  number  of  brooms  were  at 
present  drying.  As  they  stood  in  a  row,  lounging  against 
the  warm  bricks,  they  resembled  a  lot  of  yellow-headed 
rascals  lazily  taking  the  sun  and  winking  off  good  cheer 
to  passers  in  the  road. 

Brother  Lief  Liefson,  the  broom-maker,  stood  in  the 
door  of  the  shop,  chewing  a  wisp  of  straw,  and  regarding 
a  great  chrome-colored  heap  of  broom  stuff  which  rose  at 
his  gate  and  clashed  back  the  sunshine  like  a  cymbal. 


He  was  a  placid-looking  old  soul,  was  Brother  Lief  Lief- 
son;  and  as  Amos  Gray's  abstracted  glance  took  in  the 
aspect  of  his  fellow  in  the  Shaker  faith,  he  gave  an  actual 
start.  For  the  mild  contentment  of  Lief's  visage,  as  he 
stood  nibbling  at  his  straw  and  blinking  at  the  morning 
brightness,  suddenly  recalled  Amos  with  a  strong  sense 
of  comparison  to  the  scene  he  had  just  left — a  dark,  mean 
room,  a  dying  man,  and  a  weeping  little  girl,  ragged, 
with  scared  face  and  a  heap  of  curling  red  hair — a  little 
girl  who  clutched  the  hand  of  the  figure  on  the  poor  cot 
and  screamed  out:  "Pappy!  I'm  here!  yourOshia!  Don't 
ye  leave  me — don't  ye !  I  aims  to  be  good.  I  won't 
walk  the  boom -logs  no  more,  nor  go  fish  in'.  Pappy! 
pappy !" 

Amos  caught  his  breath  at  the  memory.  He  was  used 
to  sorrowful  scenes,  having  been  long  a  Shaker,  and 
given  to  ministering  to  the  wants  of  the  broken  in  body 
and  the  sick  in  mind.  No  wanderer  is  ever  turned  from 
the  gates  of  a  town  of  the  Shakers,  those  good  folk  who 
live  in  villages  of  their  own,  scattered  here  and  there 
throughout  the  land,  tilling  their  fields,  living  simply, 
having  all  things  in  common.  He  had  seen  suffering. 
But  usually  it  was  suffering  dignified  with  surroundings 
somewhat  more  respectable  than  in  the  present  case. 

The  wretched  cabin  where  Joe  Fales  had  lived  hung 
like  a  bird's  nest  on  the  edge  of  a  cliff  overlooking  the 
river  and  the  sawmill  hamlet  on  its  further  bank.  It 
belonged  to  110  one;  it  was  simply  an  abandoned  hut, 


NOT    A    SOUND   CAME    FROM    THE    PROSTRATE    HEAP    OP    FADED    GINGHAM. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG   PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


which  Fales,  driven  from  farm  to  farm,  always  falling 
lower  and  lower  because  of  his  idle  habits,  had  finally 
taken  refuge  in  because  there  was  no  rent  to  pay.  His 
wife  had  died  while  they  were  still  moderately  prosper- 
ous; and  as  to  Oshia — Oshia  did  not  mind  it  at  all  that 
the  roof  leaked.  It  was  good  to  lie  and  watch  the  stars 
come  out — a  proceeding  which  a  decent  roof  would  have 
prevented. 

"Poor  little  soul!"  said  the  women  in  the  hamlet  be- 
low. "Growin'  up  like  a  weed  that-a-way  !  She's  wild 
as  crab-grass,  Oshia  is,  and  that  independent  and  red- 
Leaded  as  you  don't  feel  pushed  to  do  much  for  her." 

She  was  certainly  not  pretty,  this  Oshia  on  whom 
Brother  Amos  Gray's  mind  dwelt  as  he  entered  West 
House.  She  was  eleven  or  so,  slim  and  wiry,  with  a  pair 
of  sharp  brown  eyes  glinting  from  the  tangles  of  her 
sandy  hair.  She  was  good  at  climbing  trees,  at  running 
along  the  wet  boom-sticks,  at  rowing  a  dugout,  or  riding 
like  a  cat  on  the  edge  of  a  raft  of  logs.  Her  ability  at 
feats  like  these  was  not  to  be  questioned.  But  Amos's 
heart  failed  when  he  considered  how  little  such  matters 
would  commend  Oshia  to  the  Eldress. 

He  advanced  down  the  hall;  it  was  long,  with  a  clock 
at  each  end  and  a  strip  of  home-wrought  carpet  reaching 
over  its  entire  length.  The  walls  were  stuccoed,  and 
crossed  with  black  beams.  At  regular  intervals  this 
checkered  expanse  was  broken  by  the  dark  little  doors  of 
the  living-rooms.  Fifty  Shakers  made  up  the  West 
House  Family.  On  the  right  of  the  hall  the  sisters 
dwelt.  The  brothers  had  rooms  in  the  left  side  of  the 
house. 

Amos  plodded  up  two  pairs  of  stairs.  He  rapped  at  a 
certain  door  and  stood  waiting;  when  the  Eldress  ap- 
peared he  inclined  his  shoulders  in  a  bow,  but,  according 
to  Shaker  rule,  he  kept  his  hat  on  his  head. 

"A  matter  of  business,  Eldress.  brings  me — 

"I  should  hope  so," said  the  Eldress,  objecting  to  an 
interruption  at  the  hour  which  she  was  accustomed  to 
give  to  her  household  accounts.  "I  should  indeed  hope 
it  were  an  important  matter." 

She  was  tall  and  heavy.  Her  hair  shone  like  steel  in 
the  coarse  mesh  of  her  house  cap.  She  stood  firm  and 
square  on  her  heelless  shoes,  and  the  linen  cape  on  her 
broad  shoulders  was  very  stiff.  There  was  something- 
imposing  in  her  presence,  revealed  thus  upon  a  back- 
ground of  white  walls,  prim  little  windows,  waxed  floors, 
and  stern-looking  Shaker  chairs  with  list  seats. 

"  Yea,  Sister,  my  business  is  pressing,''  exclaimed  Amos, 
eager  to  justify  himself.  "  Yea,  truly.  You  recall  Jo- 
seph Fales? — once  a  renter  of  our  east  farm,  but  long 
since  a  miserable  idler,  living  in  an  old  hut  on  the  cliffs. 
1  was  called  to  his  bedside  this  morning  at  dawn,  my 
skill  in  medicines  being  well  thought  of;  he  had  a  seizure 
of  the  heart,  and  expired  at  ten  of  the  clock." 

The  Eldress's  face  melted  somewhat.  "Poor  worldly 
creature!"  she  murmured,  looking  past  Amos  at  the  bit 
of  sky  in  the  hall  window,  the  clear  blue  floated  with 
white  that  was  like  the  dimpled  faces  of  little  angels.  A 
breath  of  hay  came  sweet.  Some  one  was  whetting  a 
scythe  in  the  yard  below,  and  the  sibilant  sound  rose 
high  and  thin  as  the  echo  of  an  oaten  pipe. 

Amos  drew  his  breath.  "The — the  child  Oshia,"  he 
stammered,  "is  left  utterly  alone.  I  —  perhaps  I  did 
wrong.  But  who  can  refuse  a  dying  man's  last  request? 
Fales — -I  promised  Fales  that  the  Shakers  would  take 
Oshia." 

The  Eldress  gasped. 

"This  community  no  longer  takes  in  children,"  she 
said,  severely.  "The  poor  who  come  to  us  for  aid  we 
are  ready  to  help — 

"  But,  Eldress,  this  child  is  at  our  very  door!  There 
is  no  one  else  to  help  her.  Can  we  refuse  her  shelter, 
at  least  till  she  is  old  enough  to  work  for  herself,  to  make 


her  own  way?  She  is  wild — I  admit  it;  but  she  has  heaps 
of  natural  wit.  And — and  there  is  my  word.  Sister.  It 
is  gone  forth !" 

The  Eldress  stood  pondering.     Presently  she  said: 

"I  will  receive  this  girl  into  the  Family,  for  the  present. 
She  will  be  an  element  of  discord.  She  will  be  a  trial 
to  me.  There  are  110  young  people  among  us,  save  only 
Rachel  Day.  I  trust  that  Rachel's  sweet  nature  may  be 
a  lesson  to  this  Fales  girl.  But  I  tell  you  frankly,  Bro- 
ther, I  expect  little  of  her.  The  last  time  I  saw  her  she 
was  riding  down  the  mill-chute  on  a  log-car.  There  was 
never  a  time  in  my  life  when  I  wished  to  ride  on  a  log- 
car,  dripping  with  mud.  I  hope  for  the  best,"  said  the 
Eldress,  "but  I  hope  against  my  own  judgment."  Then 
she  added:  "Tell  Brother  Hinson  to  hitch  up.  I  am  go- 
ing to  the  Fales  dwelling." 

"Oh,  Eldress,  I  thank  you — 

"  Tell  him  to  hitch  at  once." 

Whatever  the  Eldress  felt  she  concealed  under  a  calm 
face.  But  as  she  climbed  into  the  covered  Shaker  wagon 
and  rode  off  down  the  'pike,  Brother  Hinson,  furtively 
noting  the  austere  countenance  which  her  poke  bonnet 
only  half  hid,  was  aware  of  being  sorry  for  Fales's  Oshia. 
He  had  not  long  been  a  Shaker,  this  Brother  Hinson,  with 
his  fat  pink  cheeks  and  sleepily  kindly  eyes.  He  had  once 
lived  in  the  lumber  hamlet,  and  he  had  often  seen  Oshia,  a 
little  barefooted  thing,  playing  in  the  sawdust  or  paddling 
in  the  river  mud,  while  her  father  sat  by  on  a  log,  watch- 
ing and  smoking,  and  only  by  chance  leaving  the  child 
for  an  hour's  work  at  hauling  waste  stuff  from  the  mill. 
Oshia  had  been  poorly  off,  freckled,  unkempt,  clad  only 
in  a  linsey  slip.  But  as  Brother  Hinson  figured  her  in 
the  hands  of  the  Eldress,  he  heaved  a  sigh.  He  had  a 
deep  respect  for  the  Eldress,  but  yet  he  sighed. 

"It'll  be  like  plantin'  a  slip  of  red-bloomin'  cactus  in 
a  teacup  and  settin'  it  in  a  cellar,"  he  considered.  "  It  '11 
quit  bloomin',  but  the  prickles '11  be  there  jest  the  same." 

Two  or  three  neighbor  women  hurried  to  the  threshold. 

"We  ben  looking  for  you,  Eldress,"  they  said. 
"  We've  done  what  we  could.  But  that  there  Oshia!  we 
can't  do  nothing-  with  her.  Walk  right  in,  Eldress." 

A  little  fire  of  twigs  burned  in  the  loose  and  blackened 
stones  of  the  hearth.  Its  pulsing  light  fell  on  the  door 
of  an  inner  room  in  which  the  master  of  the  house  lay. 
Against  the  rough  panel,  face  downward  oil  the  puncheon 
floor,  a  little  Mgure  stretched  at  length.  A  bush  of 
bright  hair  hid  the  sharp  shoulders;  but  these  were  mo- 
tionless; not  a  sound  came  from  the  prostrate  heap  of 
faded  gingham,  beside  which  squatted  a  lank  Irish  setter. 

"  Oshia,"  said  the  Eldress,  deeply.  There  was  no  re- 
sponse. "Oshia,"  said  the  Eldress  again,  "rise  at  once. 
I  have  come  to  take  you  to  West  House.  The  Shakers 
will  take  care  of  you.  Even  in  the  midst  of  your  g-rief 
you  ought  to  be  thankful  that  such  a  home  is  offered  you. 
I  hope  you  are.  I  am  prepared  to  be  very  patient  witli 
you.  You  have  had  no  rearing.  This  wretched  habi- 
tation—  The  Eldress  paused. 

The  face  under  the  red  locks  had  suddenly  disclosed 
itself,  dry-eyed,  sharp,  indignant.  There  was  a  tremor  in 
its  lips,  as  Oshia  rose  on  her  knees  and  stood  up  in  her 
rent  frock,  with  her  bare  wrists  and  ankles.  She  looked 
straight  at  the  face  in  the  poking  Shaker  bonnet. 

"You're  the  head  one  over  vender  at  Shaker  town," 
she  said,  getting  her  breath.  "I've  nothing  agen  you. 
But  don't  ye — don't  ye  pass  a  word  agen  him  in  there" 
— she  pointed  toward  the  inner  room  —  "my  pappy.  Don't 
ye  say  as  I  bed  no  raising,  or  no  home.  Don't  you 
dast .'  I've  bed  everything.  I've  run  free  as  a  squerr'l. 
And  he  never  give  me  a  mean  word — he  never  lifted  his 
hand  to  me,  howsomever  I  let  the  fire  go  out,  or  forgot  to 
lay  in  wood  ag-en  night,  or  burned  the  bacon.  He's  dead. 
He  won't  never  speak  to  me  no  more.  But  I'll  live  here 
all  alone  before  ever  I'll  go  with  you-im's  to  be  pent  up 


NOVEMBKR  6,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


11 


into  a  house  and  be  scolded  and  looked  down  on  and 
made  for  to  forgit  him!  I  won't  go —  I  won't!"  She 
burst  into  wild  sobbing.  "Pappy!  pappy!"  she  wailed, 
fumbling  with  the  wood  button  of  the  door.  "Oh.  le' 
me  git  to  see  him ! — le'  me !" 

The  Eldress  stood  bewildered.  Some  one  just  behind 
her  said, "Let  me  speak  to  her."  Brother  Hinson  bad 
come  in.  He  looked  big  and  gentle.  He  had  forgotten 
his  awe  of  the  Eldress.  He  saw  only  Oshia  struggling 
blindly  with  the  door. 

"Oshy,r  he  said,  "I've  knowed  you  for  a  coon's  age, 
and  your  father  too — I  knowed  him  well.  He  was  a 
good  man,  though  he  hedn't  110  constitution  fer  work. 
Now  listen,  Oshy — you're  a-grieving  him  a-doing  like 
this.  He  knowed  what  was  best  fer  you.  And  he  give 
you  to  the  Shakers.  He  give  you.  Ain't  I  right?" 

Oshia  stared  and  left  off  sobbing. 

"Hinson,"  she  whispered,  "you're  right.  He  did  give 
me.  I  heern  him.  I — I  belong  to  'em."  She  clutched 
at  the  neck  of  her  frock.  "  I  belong  to  'em,"  she  repeated. 
Then,  turning  to  the  Eldress,  she  said:  "Lady,  I  ask 
your  parding  for  what  I  'lowed  to  you  jest  now.  I'll  go 
'long  with  you — bein's  as  he  fixed  it  that  way.  I  don't 
see  as  I'm  well  fitten  for  to  make  a  Shaker  woman  out 
of,  no  more'n  you  could  turn  a  crow  into  a  dove  by 
a-caging  of  it.  But  I'll  do  as  well  by  y'  all  as  I  know 
how." 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


a  paper  pattern,  and  then  follow  it  in  pasteboard.  To  do 
this,  trace  with  a  pencil  on  stiff  paper  an  oval  5  inches  in 
diameter  and  5£  from  top  to  bottom. 

Fold  one  end  across  at  a  point  where  it  will   measure 


BONBON   OR  WORK   BOX. 

T^AKE  old  kid  or  Suede  gloves.  You  have  no 
idea  how  much  may  be  done  with  them.  They 
lend  themselves  equally  well  to  tobacco-pouches,  photo- 
graph-frames, bags,  boxes,  card-cases,  and  even  bedroom 
slippers.  The  material,  while  it  receives  embroidery  and 
paint  kindly,  is  soft  and  pretty  enough  to  do  without  their 
aid.  Only  be  sure  there  isn't  a  spot  or  blemish  on  the 
surface,  for  that  would  spoil  everything,  and  fifteen  cents 
to  a  cleaner  is  but  a  trifle,  after  all. 

The  following  directions  will  enable  you  to  manufac- 
ture out  of  a  pair  of  long  Suede  gloves  a  lovely  work  or 
bonbon  box,  the  sole  difference  between  the  two  being  in 
the  trimmings: 

Cut  for  the  bottom  of  the  box   a  piece  of  pasteboard 


FIG.  l. 


4  inches  square.      Then  a   similar  square  of   white  cot- 
ton wadding.     Split  the   wadding,  and  lay   one-half  on 
each  side  of  the  pasteboard,  with  the  woolly  part  inside. 
For  the  four  sides  of  the  box  you  had  better  first  have 


FIG.  2. 


exactly  4  inches  from  side  to  side,  as  in  the  diagram,  Fig. 
1.  Cut  off  the  folded  end.  Pin  the  pattern  on  your 
pasteboard,  and  cut  out  four  pieces  alike  for  the  box  sides. 

Arrange  the  wadding  on  each  of  these,  as  you  did  on 
the  square. 

Cover  the  bottom  and  four  sides  with  silk  of  some  pale 
shade  brocaded  with  showy  figures.  The  silk  should  be 
turned  over  the  edge  of  the  pasteboard,  and  lightly  basted 
through  and  through. 

Now  place  each  section  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  glove 
and  trace  the  outline  with  pencil.  Cut  out,  baste  in  posi- 
tion, and  overseam  the  raw  kid  edges  to  the  silk  lining. 

Conceal  the  stitches  on  the  side  pieces  by  sewing  fine 
silk  cord  the  shade  of  the  glove,  around  the  oval,  but 
leave  the  lower  end  without  cord. 

Fit  each  side  carefully  to  the  square  bottom  and  over- 
seam,  letting  the  stitches  show  on  the  outside  of  the  box. 

If  it  is  to  be  used  for  candy  the  lining  had  better  be  of 
satin  paper  than  silk. 

Tack  the  sides  together  with  enough  stitches  to  stand  a 
moderate  strain  from  the  weight  of  sugar-plums. 

Have  a  strip  of  pink,  blue,  or  any  light-colored  India 
sillc,  20  inches  long  and  6  inches  deep.  Turn  down  a 
3-inch  hem  and  run  a  double  casing,  leaving  a  ruffle  of 
two  inches  above  the  casings.  Now  make  a  narrow  hem 
on  the  outer  edge  to  prevent  fraying. 

Fasten  the  silk  strip  securely  to  the  sides  of  the  box. 
Euu  an  inch-wide  ribbon  through  each  casing  to  draw  in 
opposite  directions.  Fill  the  box  with  bonbons,  pull  the 
ribbons,  and  tie  in  short  loops  and  rabbit-ear  ends. 

For  a  work-box,  line  with  brocade.  Make  two  full 
pockets  of  soft  silk  the  shade  of  the  brocade  figures  (Fig. 
2).  Sew  these  on  the  side  sections  of  the  lining  before 
basting  it  over  the  pasteboard,  otherwise  you  will  find  it 
hard  to  do  the  work  neatly. 

The  top  of  the  pocket  should  reach  as  in  Fig.  2.  and 
about  seven  inches  of  inch-wide  satin  ribbon  is  attached 
by  a  few  stitches  to  the  same  points. 

On  the  other  side  sections  stitch  the  ribbon  so  that 
thimble,  needle-book,  etc.,  will  have  each  its  place,  and 
leave  ends  long  enough  to  tie.  Turn  up  the  four  sides 
and  tie. 

A  needle-book  is  made  by  covering  pasteboard  outside 
with  Suede,  lining  with  brocade,  and  fastening  four  leaves 
of  white  flannel  between  the  covers. 


EARLY     DAYS    OF    SUCCESSFUL    MEN. 


THE  NAVY  — ADMIRAL  GHERARDI. 

BY    FRANKLIN    MATTHEWS. 


AT   22    YEARS    OP    AGE. 


N'  November  10th 
Rear  -  Admiral  Ban- 
croft Gherardi,  of  the 
United  States  Navy,  will 
retire  from  the  active  ser- 
vice of  his  country.  He 
will  then  be  sixty  -  two 
years  old,  and  will  have 
served  his  country  forty- 
eight  years.  He  entered 
the  navy  when  only  thir- 
teen years  old,  and  passed 
from  grade  to  grade,  until 
he  became  the  ranking  Ad- 
miral in  the  service,  and 
reached  the  highest  hon- 
ors that  could  come  to  any 
man  in  that  branch  of  pub- 
lic life.  This  is  a  note  wor- 
thy distinction,  but  there  also  came  to  the  Admiral  special 
honors  such  as  no  naval  official  ever  received.  They  have 
served  to  make  his  career  marked  in  naval  annals.  In  April, 
1893,  he  had  the  great  honor  of  leading  a  fleet  of  war- 
ships from  a  dozen  nations  of  the  world  into  New  York 
Harbor  to  commemorate  the  discovery  of  America  by 
Columbus.  This  was  a  pageant  such  as  the  world  never 
saw,  and  scarcely  ever  dreamed  of,  and  as  Admiral  Ghe- 
rardi goes  into  retirement  he  may  justly  recall  with  pride 
that  his  record  culminated  practically  with  that  unique 
achievement. 

In  studying  the  career  of  the  man  to  whom  all  this 
honor  has  come  it  will  doubtless  surprise  you  to  learn 
that  only  one  strong  personal  distinction  stands  out  prom- 
inent, and  that  a  very  commonplace  one  —  conscientious 
devotion  to  duty.  In  all  his  career  Admiral  Gherardi 
never  did  anything  unusual.  He  simply  did  the  right 
thing  at  the  right  time,  and  the  rewards  that  have  come 
to  him  are  an  illustration  of  that  old  principle  of  life  that 
to  the  man  who  does  his  duty  faithfully  at  all  times  there 
comes  compensation  as  surely  as  night  follows  day.  Ad- 
miral Gherardi  was  never  even  wounded  in  battle,  and 
yet  there  never  was  a  braver  man  in  the  service.  If  he 
was  not  hit,  it  surely  was  not  his  fault. 

A  friend  of  the  Admiral  told  me  that  he  asked  him 
once  how  he  felt  at  the  bombardment  of  Vera  Cruz,  which 
he  witnessed  from  the  deck  of  the  old  Ohio  when  a  boy 
of  fourteen.  The  Admiral  said, 

"You  see,  I  was  no  bigger  than  a  sailor's  plug  of  to- 
bacco, and  of  course  I  don't  remember  much  of  anything 
about  it  except  that  there  was  a  lot  of  smoke  and  noise. 
and  my  patriotic  spirits  were  aroused  and  I  forgot  dan- 
ger." 

That  is  the  key-note  to  the  Admiral's  career,  I  think. 
When  he  entered  the  navy  there  was  no  naval  academy. 
His  uncle,  George  Bancroft,  the  celebrated  historian, 
was  Secretary  of  the  Navy,  and  to  that  fact,  I  suppose, 
his  appointment  was  due  largely.  His  father  was  a  pro- 
fessor in  a  Louisiana  school,  and  young  Gherardi  had 
always  been  brought  up  in  sight  of  the  water,  and  thus 
became  possessed  of  a  desire  to  be  a  naval  officer.  He 
was  maue  a  midshipman,  and  he  learned  the  work  by  ex- 
perience, beginning  at  the  very  bottom.  After  nearly 
four  vears  of  service  the  Naval  Academy  was  opened, 
and  he  went  there  to  study  for  a  year  or  so,  but  finally 
was  sent  back  to  his  ship,  and  continued  the  study  of 
practical  tilings. 

In  1852  Gherardi  became  a  passed  midshipman,  and 
was  sent  to  the  Mediterranean  in  the  good  old  ship,  still 


preserved,  St.  Louis.  Commander  Duncan  Nathaniel 
Ingraham,  an  old-school  naval  officer,  was  in  command. 
It  was  on  this  ship  that  Gherardi  participated  in  the  Mar- 
tin Koszta  incident.  I  have  always  envied  any  man  who 
witnessed  the  sterling  display  of  patriotism  that  Ingra- 
ham made  on  that  occasion.  It  was  of  the  Paul  Jones 
stripe,  and  has  always  been  an  inspiration  to  the  navy. 
In  those  days  there  was  no  cable,  and  naval  officers  de- 
fended the  honor  of  their  country  according  to  their  best 
judgment  without  consulting  home  authorities. 

An  American  citizen,  Koszta,  had  returned  home  to 
Europe,  and  the  commander  of  an  Austrian  war-ship,  the 
Hussar,  made  him  a  prisoner  in  Smyrna,  refusing  to  rec- 
ognize his  American  citizenship.  Ingraham  heard  of  it, 
and  at  once  demanded  that  Koszta  be  set  free.  The  Aus- 
trian commander  refused,  and  then  Ingraham  gave  no- 
tice to  the  Austrian  on  July  2,  1853,  that  unless  Koszta 
was  delivered  to  him  by  four  o'clock  011  that  afternoon  he 
should  fire  on  the  Hussar.  Now  the  Hussar  was  a  great 
deal  larger  than  the  St.  Louis,  and  in  a  fight  Ingraham 
would  doubtless  have  been  beaten,  but  that  mattered  little 
to  Ingraham.  The  stories  say  that  after  Ingraham  de- 
livered his  ultimatum  he  flew  into  a  mighty  rage,  and  in 
a  voice  of  fierce  determination  gave  the  order. 


ADMIRAL    GHERARDI    TO-DAY. 


. 


WAR-SHIPS    OF    DIFFERENT    NATIONS    COMMANDED    BY    ADMIRAL    GH  Eli  AUDI    ENTERI 


"Clear  the  decks  for  action  !" 

It  was  done  in  a  jiffy,  and  all  that  morning  the  St. 
Louis  lay  there  ready  to  fire  when  the  time  should  ex- 
pire. Ingraham  did  not  know  at  the  time  that  the  Aus- 
trian commander  had  given  orders  that  if  the  St.  Louis 
should  open  fire  Koszta  should  be  shot  at  once  in  the 
place  where  he  was  kept  in  confinement  in  the  ship. 
Throughout  the  morning  the  Austrian  commander  pon- 
dered on  the  situation,  and  at  noon  decided  to  surrender 
Koszta.  Had  Ingraham  opened  fire  it  meant  war,  and  he 
knew  it,  hut  what  was  that  when  an  American  citizen 
was  a  prisoner?  The  shotted  guns  of  the  St.  Lonis  told 
a  story  that  meant  bloodshed  and  deatli  to  many  a  sailor; 
but  principle  was  at  stake,  and  Ingraham  knew  no  such 
word  as  fear,  and  would  willingly  have  sacrificed  his  own 
life  and  that  of  all  his  crew  to  assert  the  dignity  of  his 
country.  Gherai'di  never  forgot  what  he  learned  on 
that  occasion. 

Five  years  later  the  adventurer  Walker  overran  Nica- 
ragua, and  actually  had  himself  proclaimed  President  of 
the  republic.  At  last  it  became  necessary  for  the  United 
States  to  arrest  him  and  bring  him  home.  With  Com- 
mander Hiram  Paulding,  on  the  Saratoga,  Gherardi  par- 
ticipated in  this  incident,  and  he  learned  some  practical 
lessons  in  international  law  there.  In  that  same  year 
the  Atlantic  cable  was  laid — two  previous  attempts 
were  unsuccessful — and  the  American  man-o'-war  Ni- 
agara and  the  English  war-ship  Agamemnon  met  in. 
mid-ocean  and  spliced  the  cable,  and  Queen  Victoria  and 
President  Buchanan  exchanged  compliments  over  the 
occasion,  which  meant  so  much  for  civilization.  Events 
were  now  moving  fast  for  Gherardi.  The  war  came  on 
quickly,  and  he  got  his  first  command.  He  was  made  a 
Lieutenant -Commander,  and  was  assigned  to  blockade 
duty.  He  participated  in  the  engagement  of  Fort  Ma- 
con,  and  commanded  the  gunboat  Cliocura  in  the  West- 
ern Gulf  Blockading  Squadron.  He  was  kept  at  this 
work  for  nearly  two  years,  but  took  part  in  the  famous 
battle  of  Mobile  Bay  in  August,  1864,  and  then  com- 
manded the  Pequot  in  the  North  Atlantic  Blockading 
Squadron.  He  was  made  a  Commander  in  1866,  and  com- 
manded the  Jamestown  in  the  Pacific.  He  continued  in 
the  Pacific  for  several  years,  and  became  a  Captain  in 
1874.  He  commanded  the  Pensacola,  Colorado,  and, 
final! y,  was  in  charge  of  the  flag-ship  Lancaster,  at  Alex- 
andria, in  1882. 

Arabi  Pasha  had  started  a  revolution  in  Egypt,  and 
his  atrocities  were  so  terrible  that  the  English  were  com- 
pelled to  interfere.  On  July  llth  and  12th  they  bom- 
barded Alexandria,  and  made  havoc  with  the  city.  It 
was  the  first  strong  demonstration  since  our  civil  war  of 
the  great  power  of  modern  guns  and  projectiles,  and 
made  a  spectacle  the  like  of  which  had  never  been  seen 


before.  Finally  it  became  necessai'3T  to  land  soldiers  and 
sailors  from  the  American  flag-ship  to  protect  American 
interests,  and  on  that  occasion  Gherardi  was  a  sharer  in 
the  distinction  that  came  to  our  navy,  for  it  was  agreed 
that  no  body  of  troops  made  a  better  showing  than  did 
ours  at  that  time.  Here  was  more  practical  interna- 
tional law  for  Gherardi. 

In  1884  Gherardi  became  a  Rear- Admiral,  and  was  as- 
signed to  the  North  Atlantic  Station,  where  he  had  al- 
ready served  more  time  than  anywhere  else.  He  sailed 
into  Port-au-Prince  one  day  on  the  Kearsarge,  in  1889, 
and  found  that  Hippolyte  had  beaten  Legitime.  The  lat- 
ter's  life  was  in  danger,  and  he  was  put  under  the  care  of 
the  American  minister.  It  was  necessary  to  see  him  safe 
out  of  the  country,  and  the  war-ships  of  the  other  coun- 
tries which  were  there  were  to  co-operate  with  the  Kear- 
sarge to  accomplish  it.  All  the  men-of-war  in  the  harbor 
moved  up  close  to  the  city  and  cleared  their  decks  for 
action.  Gherardi  had  been  through  this  before,  and  lie 
knew  what  he  was  about.  A  consultation  was  in  progress 
at  the  American  legation  as  to  the  best  means  to  secure 
the  safety  of  Legitime,  when  the  latter  drove  down  to  the 
legation  in  a  rush.  It  was  reported  that  rioting  had  be- 
gun in  the  city,  and  Legitime  had  to  fly  for  safety.  As 
the  carriage  came  dashing  up  to  the  door  Admiral  Ghe- 
rardi rushed  out,  and  drew  his  sword  as  he  ran.  He  did 
not  know  what  he  had  to  meet,  but  he  was  prepared  for 
personal  combat  if  necessary.  Legitime  was  saved,  but 
there  were  several  persons  killed  in  the  rioting  in  the 
town. 

When  the  Columbian  celebration  came,  Gherardi  was 
ranking  Admiral,  and  although  there  were  other  naval 
officers  who  desired  to  command  on  the  occasion.  Secre- 
tary Tracy  gave  it  to  the  man  to  whom  it  belonged  by 
rank,  and  he  performed  his  work  well.  In  the  fleet  that 
sailed  up  the  Hudson  River  there  were  capabilities  of 
deatli  and  destruction  almost  inconceivable,  and  proba- 
bly under  no  other  auspices  could  such  a  squadron  have 
assembled.  It  was  a  monster  fleet  of  war-ships  proclaim- 
ing a  spirit  of  peace.  Two  clays  after  there  occurred  un- 
doubtedly one  of  the  most  notable  naval  events  in  his- 
tory— a  land  parade  of  the  armed  forces  in  the  harbor. 
English,  French,  German,  and  the  others,  marched  down 
the  streets  of  New  York  in  harmony  and  peace,  and  those 
who  saw  it  might  well  have  asked  if  the  millennium  had 
come.  Gherardi  had  arranged  this  magnificent  demon- 
stration of  the  power  and  influence  of  the  United  Stales 
as  a  peace-maker  among  the  nations  of  the  earth,  and  well 
might  he  be  proud  of  it.  His  career  was  practically 
closed  with  this  incident.  A  year  or  so  of  active  service 
remained  to  him,  and  it  has  been  spent  at  the  Brooklyn 
Navy-yard. 

Such  has  been  Admiral  Gherardi's  public  record. 


14 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


show  how  little  tilings  in  youth  affect  the  after-life  of  great 
men,  it  may  be  said  that  all  this  success  hinged  prarii 
cally  on  a  French  examination  at  the  Naval  Academy 
away  hack  in  1852.  Rear- Admiral  Braine,  now  retired, 
outclassed  Gherardi  in  all  studies  except  French.  Braine 
failed  to  pass  in  that.  Gherardi  was  skilled  in  it,  and 
so  to  him  and  not  to  Braine  eventually  came  the  great 
honor  of  commanding  a  fleet  of  the  nations  of  the  world. 
Braine  did  pass  his  examination  in  French  finally,  and 
had  an  opportunity  to  take  his  rank  ahead  of  Gherardi, 
but  his  sense  of  honor  was  too  strong,  and  he  declined 
to  displace  his 'former  classmate,  who  had  fairly  won  a 
place  by  earnest  and  conscientious  work. 

In  looking  over  this  record  of  Gherardi,  no  particular 
personal  achievement,  as  I  have  said,  stands  forth  promi- 
nently. I  do  not  know  that  he  would  be  called  a  brill- 
iant man.  I  do  know  that  he  has  always  been  a  faith- 
ful man,  and  I  also  know  that  because  of  that  he  has 
been  an  unusually  successful  man.  Is  there  not  a  signifi- 
cant lesson  in  this  for  all  young  persons,  and  even  others? 
And  is  not  this  lesson  all  the  more  potent  because  he 
achieved  success  not  by  reason  of  unusual  gifts  of  Provi- 
dence, but  by  reason  of  simply  doing  his  duty  day  after 
day  as  it  came,  and  by  doing  it  well? 


THE   MYSTERIOUS  TRAVELLER. 
I. 

"  TT  couldn't  be  clone — it's  as  impossible  as  for  a  man 

JL  to  get  from  here  to  Fort  St.  Denis  all  by  himself 
without  being'  chopped  into  cutlets  by  the  Arabs." 

"Well,  I  don't  think  that  experiment  is  very  likely  to 
be  made,  for  no  man  alive  would  be  such  a  fool  as  to  try 
it!" 

The  speakers  were  two  young  French  officers,  who  were 
standing  in  the  midst  of  a  group  of  their  comrades  in 
front  of  the  mess-room  in  Fort  Victoire  (one  of  the  new 
military  posts  recently  planted  along  the  edge  of  the 
Sahara  by  the  advance  of  French  conquest),  watching 
the  sun  rise  over  the  boundless  expanse  of  desert  beyond 
them. 

"What?  when  the  forts  are  only  twenty  miles  apart;" 
cried  a  smooth-faced  young  cornet  of  light  horse,  who 
had  just  come  out  from  France  to  join  the  garrison. 
"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  a  man  can't  even  get  over 
a  short  distance  like  that  without  being  murdered?" 

"Try  it,  and  see!"  answered  the  other,  with  a  signif- 
icant grin. 

'But  surely  if  a  man  were  to  disguise  himself  care- 
fully," suggested  the  subaltern,  who,  like  many  other 
people,  stood  up  as  stoutly  for  the  crude  notions  that  he 
had  gathered  out  of  books  as  if  they  were  fully  borne  out 
by  his  own  personal  experience. 

"Disguise  himself?"  echoed  the  eldet  man,  in  a  tone  of 
utter  con  tempt.  "  Why,  Bertrand,  do  you  know  no  more 
of  these  rascally  Arabs  than  that?  I  tell  you  no  disguise 
upon  earth  would  be  any  good  against  them — they  .•;/;<// 
farther  than  a  Christian  can  see.  If  a  French  soldier 
were  headed  up  in  a  cask,  they'd  know  somehow  or  other 
that  he  trus  there.  I'm  not  very  rich  myself,  but  I'd 
wagi-ii1  fifty  napoleons  any  day  that  no  European  ever 
goes  from  here  to  Fort  St.  Denis  alone,  and  reaches 
there  alive!" 

"Done!"  said  a  quiet  voice  behind  him. 

The  speakers  looked  round  with  a  start,  and  saw  that  a 
new  personage  had  suddenly  come  upon  the  scene — a 
small,  thin,  swarthy  Frenchman  in  civilian  dress,  with 
a  face  of  settled  gravity,  though  every  now  and  then  a 
strange  half-mocking  smile  flickered  over  his  dark  fea- 
tures like  lightning  in  a  moonless  sky. 

The  officers  laughed,  supposing  him  to  be  only  joking; 


but  when  they  saw  that  he  was  really  in  earnest  they  be- 
gan to  remonstrate  vehemently. 

"You  must  not  think  of  it,  my  dear  sir," cried  the 
young  Lieutenant  who  had  offered  the  wager.  "You 
are  our  guest,  and  we  cannot  let  you  bind  yourself  to 
what  would  be  nothing  less  than  suicide!" 

"Perhaps  it  may  not  turn  out  to  be  such  a  terrible 
business  after  all, "said  the  little  man,  with  a  quiet  smile; 
"  and  in  any  case,"  he  added,  more  gravely,  "  I  know  that 
I  need  fear  no  hinderance  from  French  officers  in  an  affair 
which  concerns  my  honor." 

The  last  word  touched  all  his  hearers  in  the  right 
place;  and  the  speaker,  seeing  its  effect,  hastened  to  add: 

"Now  I'm  going  straight  to  the  Colonel  to  ask  his 
permission  to  make  the  attempt,  and  I  have  not  the  least 
doubt  that  I  shall  get  it." 

And  he  did  get  it,  sure  enough,  though  it  was  not 
without  a  severe  twinge  of  conscience  that  Colonel  La- 
grange  gave  his  sanction  to  a  hazard  the  overwhelming 
peril  of  which  was  manifest  at  a  glance  to  a  veteran  sol- 
dier like  himself. 

Rash  as  he  was,  however,  the  bold  adventurer  had  a 
method  in  his  madness  nevertheless;  for  the  first  thing 
he  did  was  to  assume  an  Arab  dress,  knowing  that  how- 
ever useless  such  a  disguise  might  prove  at  close  quarters 
against  the  keen  eyes  of  his  enemies,  yet  if  they  saw  from 
a  distance  a  solitary  man  in  native  garb,  they  might  not 
think  it  worth  while  to  ride  after  him,  as  they  would  cer- 
tainly do  after  a  European. 

"  You'll  wait  till  nightfall,  of  course,"  suggested  the 
Colonel. 

"Not  I,"  answered  the  guest,  coolly;  "  the  night's  the 
very  worst  time  for  an  expedition  of  this  sort,  because 
it's  at  night  that  such  ventures  are  always  made,  and  so, 
of  course,  it's  then  that  these  rogues  will  be  on  the  watch. 
I  shall  go  right  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  when  the  ras- 
cals will  be  either  asleep,  or,  at  all  events,  not  on  the 
lookout." 

When  the  hour  for  starting  came,  not  merely  the  old 
Colonel,  but  every  other  officer  who  was  not  actually  on 
duty,  crowded  to  the  gate  of  the  little  fortress  to  witness 
the  departure  of  their  adventurous  guest. 

xCaii  I  carry  any  message  for  you  to  Fort  St.  Denis, 
Colonel?"  asked  the  latter,  turning  to  Colonel  Lagrange, 
as  coolly  as  if  he  were  only  setting  out  on  a  picnic, 
instead  of  running  a  risk  in  which  the  chances  were 
ninety  to  one  in  favor  of  his  being  killed. 

"  Well,  since  you  will  go,"  rejoined  the  veteran,  laugh- 
ing in  spite  of  himself,  "you  might  give  this  paper  to 
the  Commandant;  and  I  only  hope  you'll  survive  to  de- 
liver il." 

"And  I, "said  Lieutenant  Dufaure,  warmly,  "shall  be 
as  glad  to  lose  those  fifty  napoleons  as  ever  I  was  to  win 
double  the  amount." 

"I  trust  to  see  you  enjoy  that  pleasure  very  shortly," 
answered  the  hero  of  the  day  as  composedly  as  ever. 
"An  revoir,  gentleinrn." 

II. 

There  is  no  more  grim  or  dreary  spectacle  upon  the 
face  of  the  earth  (except,  perhaps,  the  kindred  wastes  of 
Central  Asia)  than  the  mighty  desert  that  stretches  al- 
most unbroken  from  the  palm  groves  of  Egypt  to  the 
waves  of  the  Atlantic.  On  every  side,  as  far  as  the  eye 
can  reach,  the  dim  unending  level  of  the  eternal  wilder- 
ness melts  into  the  quivering  film  of  intense  heat  along 
the  horizon,  in  an  endless  succession  of  wide  wastes  of 
sand,  and  bare  stony  plains,  and  dry  dusty  hollows,  out 
of  which  the  bleaching  bones  of  camels  and  of  men  start 
up  white  and  ghastly  here  and  there. 

All  at  once,  in  the  very  midst  of  the  hot  brassy  glare 
which  makes  all  earth  and  sky  seem  on  fire  together,  the 
pluinv  crests  of  a  long  line  of  graceful  palms  are  seen 


NOVEMBEK  6,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


15 


standing'  like  sentinels  along  the  edge  of  a  clear,  still, 
shining  lake.  But  it  is  only  that  fatal  mirage  of  the 
desert,  which  mocks  the  weary  eye  of  the  lost  wanderer  in 
these  awful  solitudes  with  a  deceitful  semblance  of  hope, 
only  to  add  a  keener  agony  to  the  bitterness  of  his  despair. 

To  the  brave  Frenchman,  however,  this  visionary  splen- 
dor and  this  weird  everlasting  desolation  were  alike 
hackneyed  spectacles,  and  forward  he  went,  without  even 
troubling  himself  to  look  at  them,  as  briskly  as  the  scorch- 
ing heat  and  his  flowing  Arab  robes  would  let  him. 

Ten  miles  of  the  twenty  had  already  been  accom- 
plished—then twelve — fourteen — fifteen.  He  had  now 
achieved  three-fourths  of  his  perilous  journey;  and  at 
length,  mounting  the  crest  of  one  of  the  long  low  wave- 
like  sand  ridges,  he  descried  far  in  the  distance  the  low 
white  wall  of  Fort  St.  Denis,  with  the  gay  tricolor  flag  of 
France  waving  jauntily  above  it.  But  at  the  same  mo- 
ment he  caught  sight  of  something  else  which  was  by  no 
means  so  satisfactory,  viz.,  a  distant  group  of  white  man- 
tles and  glittering  spear  points  and  Arab  horses  coming 
straight  down  upon  him. 

The  fact  was  that  the  French  had  so  often  employed 
native  messengers  that  every  man,  even  if  he  looked  like 
an  Arab,  was  now  an  object  of  suspicion  to  these  desert 
vultures.  But  when  they  neared  our  hero  and  saw  that 
he  quietly  continued  on  his  way,  without  taking  any  no- 
tice of  them  whatever,  they  began  to  think  that  they 
must  be  wrong  in  suspecting  him,  naturally  supposing 
that  his  showing-  so  littl-e  fear  of  them  was  a  proof  that 
he  could  have  no  reason  to  be  afraid. 

As  the  six  wild  horsemen  closed  round  him,  brandish- 
ing their  guns  and  spears,  but  still  in  doubt  whether  to 
attack  him  or  not,  the  disguised  Frenchman  drew  him- 
self up  defiantly,  indulged  in  a  series  of  those  excited 
gesticulations  which  are  characteristic  of  Mohammedan 
pilgrims,  and  then  called  out  to  them  fiercely  in  fluent 
Arabic : 

"Begone,  transgressors  of  the  law!  a  true  believer 
hath  no  fellowship  with  the  sinners  who  violate  the  sa- 
cred commands  of  the  Prophet !" 

"  What  mean  you?"  asked  the  nearest  horseman,  in  a 
tone  of  amazement,  which  was  certainly  not  without 
reason. 

"  What  call  3-011  this  ?"  retorted  the  accuser,  with  stern 
emphasis  ;  and  quick  as  thought  he  drew  forth  (or  at 
least  seemed  to  draw  forth)  from  beneath  the  Arab's 
white  mantle  an  undeniable  pork  sausage! 

A  yell  of  mingled  horror  and  indignation  burst  from 
his  comrades  as  the  "  unclean  flesh  "  came  to  light;  and 
their  holy  anger  broke  forth  anew  when  the  reproving 
stranger  produced  a  small  flask  of  ll'ine  from  the  pouch 
of  another  of  the  band. 

This  was  more  than  flesh  and  blood  could  bear.  One 
of  the  zealous  Moslems  dealt  a  heavy  blow  to  the  wretch 
who  thus  defied  the  precepts  of  the  holy  Koran  ;  where- 
upon the  fierce  Arab  levelled  his  long  gun  and  shot  him 
dead  on  the  spot,  being  himself  instantly  shot  dead  in 
turn  by  the  slain  man's  brother. 

Meanwhile  the  supposed  sausage-eater,  being  coarsely 
reviled  by  two  of  his  comrades,  drew  his  sword  and  mor- 
tally wounded  both.  The  next  moment  he  went  down 
before  the  sixth  man's  stroke,  but,  in  falling,  he  avenged 
himself  with  a  pistol-shot;  and  a  scouting  party  from 
Fort  St.  Denis,  drawn  to  the  spot  by  the  firing,  found  all 
the  six  Arabs  dead  or  dying,  their  horses  standing  mourn- 
fully beside  them,  and  the  mysterious  traveller  looking 
on  with  the  quiet  satisfaction  of  one  watching  the  success 
of  a  great  scientific  experiment. 

"Ami  "  _,  are  you?'  asked  the  officer  in  command, 
wonderingly,  when  the  stranger  had  told  his  story. 

"I  am  a  conjurer  by  trade,  and  my  name  is  Robert 
Houdin,"  quietly  answered  the  greatest  juggler  in  Europe; 
and  that  name  explained  everything. 


A  CRANBERRY  BOG. 

THE  men,  women,  and  children  of  Cape  Cod  earn  considerable 
money  every  autumn  by  picking  cranberries  in  the  bogs. 
A  large  portion  of  the  cape  is  bog  land,  which  was  practically 
worthless  a  few  years  ago.  Thousands  of  acres  have  beeu  re- 
claimed, and  extensive  cranberry  bogs  nave  been  constructed  at 
a  cost  of  from  §250  to  $300  au  acre. 

There  is  now  a  cranberry  belt  extending  along  tbe  north 
shore  of  Buzzards  Bay  and  the  southern  part  of  Cape  Cod. 
This  region  has  become  one  of  tbe  greatest  cranberry -growing 
districts  of  tbe  world. 

Tbe  cranberry-growers  make  great  preparations  for  tbe  small 
army  of  people  which  must  be  boused  and  fed  during  the  pick- 
ing season.  The  accommodations  are  ratlier  rude  and  primitive. 
Some  of  tbe  pickers  live  in  board  cabins,  but  most  of  them  dwell 
in  tents.  It  is  a- curious  and  novel  sight  to  see  several  hundred 
pickers  in  camp  about  tbe  swamps. 

The  cranberry-pickers  are  out  in  the  bogs  soon  after  daylight, 
and  they  remain  as  long  as  they  can  see  a  berry.  In  large 
cranberry  bogs,  where  several  hundred  people  are  at  work,  the 
pickers  are  divided  into  companies,  each  company  consisting  of 
120  persons.  Tbe  company  is  in  charge  of  a  "boss,"  who  keeps 
account  of  the  amount  each  picker  gathers  during  tin- 
day. 

The  bog  is  lined  off  into  rows  with  twine,  and  each  picker  has 
a  strip  about  three  feet  wide,  wbicb  must  be  picked  clean.  The 
pickers,  men,  women,  and  children  of  all  ages,  work  along  the 
bog  on  their  knees.  The  berries  are  usually  gathered  from  the 
\iiies  by  hand,  although  a  picking-machine  is  sometimes  used. 
When  pickers  are  scarce  the  berries  are  raked  off  with  a  garden 
rake. 

The  pickers  are  paid  by  tbe  measure,  which  is  a  broad  six- 
quart  pail.  Tbe  price  paid  is  from  eight  to  ten  cents  a  measure. 
Tbe  amounts  which  pickers  will  gather  in  a  day  vary  from  150 
to  250  quarts.  Some  of  the  most  expert  workers,  when  the  yield 
is  heavy,  have  been  known  to  gather  sixty-live  measures,  or  3!JU 
quarts  of  cranberries  in  a  day. 

There  are  always  many  boys  and  girls  in  tbe  bogs  picking 
berries,  and  when  they  work  together  time  flies  rapidly.  After 
the  day's  work  is  done  young  couples  are  seen  walking  home 
hand  in  band.  The  tots  are  carried  in  father's  or  mother's 
arms.  The  cranberry  season  lasts  about  three  weeks,  and  when 
it  is  over  the  children  are  sent  back  to  school  and  their  lessons. 
Most  of  them  are  sorry  that  the  vacation  is  at  an  end. 


IF. 

IF  I  were  the  basket  for  holding  the  cake, 
I'm  sorry  to  say  that  I  fear 

The  buns  and  tbe  cookies  and  jumbles  they  bake 
Would  in  a  sbort  time  disappear. 

If  I  bad  four  legs,  like  a  table  or  chair, 
You'd  never  catch  me  standing  still, 

I'd  be  dancing  a  jig  all  the  time  with  each  pair. 
With  a  marvellous,  wonderful  skill. 

If  I  were  a  bureau,  with  wheels  on  my  feet, 

The  family  M  discover,  I  think. 
Mr  soon  rolling  over  tbe  aspbalted  street, 

Like  the  lads  who  .skate  down  in   the  rink. 

If  I  bad  six  arms,  like  our  big  chandelier, 

They'd  not  be  so  quiet  all  day, 
But  bugging  my  mamma  and  sisters  so  dear. 

In  tbe  lovingest  sort  of  a  way. 

If  I  were  a  book  for  a  wee  little  boy. 

Who  never  could  read  to  him-..!!, 
I'd  spout  all  my  stories  to  him  with  great  joy 

From  my  place  on  the  library  shelf. 

If  I  were  a  pen  near  a   big  pot  of  ink, 

I'd  just  bave  the  loveliest  times! 
I'd  go  to  the  ink-pot,  and  deeply  I'd  drink, 

Ai:d  spend   all  the  day  writing  rhymes. 


1C 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI? 


A   CAT    BOAT    RACE. 


SAMMY'S   WONDERFUL   POP. 

RAISES    CHICKENS    Ax'l)    SCARES    THE    DAUKY. 

DEAR  MR.  EDITOR. — The  last  time  I  was  talking  with  Sam- 
my (which  was  yesterday)  he  says  to  me, 

"  Harry,  didn't  your  Pop  ever  do  anything  strawdinai  v.'" 

"  No,"  I  says,  "  I  don't  believe  lie  ever  did."  (I  didn't  like  to 
say  it,  but  it  is  a  fact.)  "I  guess  he  never  travelled  much,  but 
just  staid  at  home  and  tended  to  his  business  kind  of  pokey- 
like." 

"  Oh,"  says  Sammy,  "  so  has  my  Pop  always  tended  to  business. 
He's  had  some  of  the  most  'stonishing  things  happen  to  him 
when  he's  been  right  at  home  tending  to  business  every  day. 
'Member  the  time  he  h'isted  up  thejyraffs  behind  so's  they  could 
get  their  heads  down  and  eat  grass  1" 

"Yes,"  says  I. 

"  Well,  he  was  right  on  his  farm  working  hard  all  day.  Pop 
has  been  a  farmer  a  good  deal.  He  had  the  jyratf  farm  in  Africa, 
but  he  had  a  farm  once  in  this  country, too." 

"  Where  was  it  ?"  I  asked. 

"Down  in  South  Carolina.  He  had  a  farm  there  where  he 
raised  watermelons  and  chickens  and  all  such  things.  Their 
\\  as  a  darky  living  near  that  give  Pop  lots  of  trouble,  'cause  ho 
liked  chickens  so  well.  This  darky  was  named  'Poleon  Bony- 
part,  and  he  liked  his  chickens  fried.  But  he  never  raised  any 
chickens  hisself.  so  he  used  to  get  'em  from  Pop  mostly,  Pop  says, 
in  the  dark  of  the  moon,  and  some  while  after  bedtime,  and 
quite  a  spell  'fore  breakfast.  This  darky  run  off  with  the 
chickens  so  fast  that  Pop  couldn't  get  none  ahead  to  sell,  and  if 
he  wanted  one  hisself  for  Sunday  dinner  he  had  to  go  to  the 
market  and  buy  it. 

••  Well,  Pop  tried  all  sorts  of  ways  to  catch  the  darky,  or-keep 
him  away,  but  they  didn't  none  of 'em  work.  One  day  Pop  got 
a  watch-dorg.  That  night  'fore  he  went  to  bed  he  walked  out  to 
see  ho\v  he  was  getting  'long,  and  the  dorg  thought  Pop  was 
'Poleon,  and  chased  him  up  on  a  roost,  and  he  had  to  set  there  all 
nightjust  'sif  he'd  been  a  chicken.  Pop  got  pretty  tired  of  it  'fore 
morning.  The  only  fun  he  had  was  when  it  was  getting  light 
and  the  roosters  begun  to  crow.  Pop  just  flopped  his  elbows  up 
and  down  and  crowed  too,  and  larfed  to  hisself;  but  it  wasn't 
so  very  much  fun,  after  all,  and  he  was  glad  to  fly  down  in  the 
morning. 


••  Then  Pop  fixed  up  a  spring-gun  to  go  off 
and  shoot  fine  shot  into  'Poleon's  legs  and 
scare  him  away;  but  it  went  off  'fore  'Po- 
leon come, somehow,  and  killed  a  whole  roost- 
ful  of  chickens;  and  then  the  darky  come 
and  gathered  'cm  up  and  took  Vm  home. 
'Poleou  said  to  his  wife  that  it  was  very  kind 
of  Pop  to  kill  the  chickens  for  him,  and  he 
spected  the  next  thing  he  knew  he'd  begin 
to  find  'em  all  ready  fried. 

"After  this  Pop  didn't  know  what  to  do 
for  a  long  time,  till  one  day  he  was  down- 
town and  saw  a  man  selling  parrots,  and 
he  says  to  bisself,  'I've  got  it!'  So  he  buys 
a  parrot  and  takes  him  home. 

'•Then  for  a  week  Pop  trained  the  parrot 
to  stay  with  the  chickens,  and  roost  with 
them  at  night  011  the  end  of  the  front  roost 
next  to  the  window.  The  parrot  didn't 
want  to  do  it  at  first,  and  says  to  Pop  that 
he'd  got  to  have  a  cage  and  a  big  ring  to  set 
in,  but  Pop  wouldn't  listen  to  it.  and  told 
him  his  place  was  with  the  chickens.  At 
last  the  parrot  give  in,  and  didn't  kick  any 
more  'bout  it. 

"Well,  it  went  oil  for  mebby  a  week,  and 
nothing  happened.     Then  there  wasn't  any 
moon   any  more,  and  'Poleou  said  he  reckon- 
ed mebby  he,  oughter  have  some   more  fried 
chicken.     So  that  night  he  went  over  'cross 
the  field  a  little  while  after  midnight,  and 
crep'   up   still-like   to   Pop's   hen-housi-,  and 
reached  in  the  window,  and  got  a  chicken  by 
the  legs,  and  put  it  under  his  arm  and  start- 
ed home.     'Powerful  light   fowl,' says  'Po- 
leou    to   hisself,  'but    I   spect    it's  a   spring 
chicken.     It  ongliter  be   tender  as  m'lasses.' 
Just  then   that  chicken    opens  his  bill,  and 
says  he,  loud  as  he  could   holler:   'Chicken 
thief!   Chicken  thief!   Nigger,  chicken  thief !' 
Then  Pop  and    all    the    neighbors  come    running    out,  and   the 
darky  was  so  scart  he  just  dropped  the  parrot  and  ruu  so  fast 
that  Pop  guesses  he  couldn't  stop,  'cause  nobody  ever  saw  him 
again." 

I  was  just  asking  Sammy  if  his  Pa  really  thought  the  darky 
was  running  yet,  like  Snooper  with  the  perairie-chickeu,  when 
I  heard  Ma  calling  me.  I  asked  her  what  she  wanted,  and  she 
said  I  hadn't  tilled  the  wood-box  for  night  yet,  and  I  had  to  go. 
Ma  never  will  wait  for  anything,  no  matter  how  'portaut  it  is. 

Yours  truly,  HARRY. 


IN  THE   HISTORY  CLASS. 

"WHO  was  Washington's  father.  Jack?"  asked  the  teacher. 
"The  Grandfather  of  his  Country,1'  replied  Jack. 


JACK  FROST'S  APOLOGY. 
To  strip  you  of  your  foliage 

My  spirit  sorely  grieves, 
Nor  will  I  in  the  task  engage 

Unless  you  grant  your  leaves. 


SOME  WERE  BIGGER  THAN  OTHERS. 

"WHAT  have  you  got  there,  Jimmieboy?"  asked  his  teacher, 
observing  that  the  small  youth  was  playing  behind  the  cover  of 
his  desk. 

••Two  horsechestnuts  and  one  little  poiiychest-uut,"  said  Jim- 
mieboy. 


BOBBY'S  DECLAMATION. 
Tun  boy  stood  on  the  burning  deck 

Whence  all  but  him  had  fled; 
But  just  what  happened  after  that 

Has  gone  out  of  my  head. 


THE  TROUBLE   WITH  A  TUTOR. 

"Do  you  go  to  school,  Willie?"  queried  the  visitor. 

••  Xo,"  said  Willie,  who  has  a  tutor.  "  School  comes  to  me.  I 
wish  it  didn't,  too.  Some  days  are  too  wet  for  me  to  go  out,  but 
there  ain't  any  too  wet  for  Mr.  Diggins." 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


ht,  1894,  by  HAHPKE  *  BROTHERS      All  Ri-hts  Reserve,! 


PUBLISHED     WEEKLY 
VOL.  XVI.— NO.  785. 


NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY.  NOVEMBER  13,    1894. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO   1>OLLAHS    A     YEAH. 


FALES'S    OSHIA. 

BY      EVA     WILDER      McGLASSOX. 


"C1 


CHAPTER     II. 

it  plenty  long,  Sister   Lena.     She   is  likely  to 
grow.     Straighten  up,  Oshia!  how  can  we  get  the 
length  when  you  hold  your  shoulders  so?" 

The  Eldress  spoke  evenly,  casting  her  eye  upon  the 
two  figures  in  the  middle  of  the  sewing-room  of  West 
House.  It  was  a  big  bare  room,  with  linen  sash  shades 
at  the  little  deep-set  windows,  against  which  a  wilder- 
ness of  beech-leaves  glistened  and  rustled.  A  narrow 
cutting-table  reached  along  one  wall.  Several  women 
in  Shaker  garb  of  plain  gowns,  round  capes,  and  thin 
lace  caps  sat  about,  sewing  on  garments  of  cotton  stuff. 


A  length  of  this  goods,  dark  blue  in  color,  trailed  from 
Sister  Lena's  hand  as  she  measured  the  distance  from 
Oshia's  neck  to  her  heavily  shod  feet.  For  she  wore 
shoes  now,  and  they  were  stout  ones. 

"So!"  said  Sister  Lena,  pinching  a  mark  in  the  ging- 
ham. "That  '11  'low  for  shrinking.  She  ain't  over-M/a 
ble  for  her  age,  Eldress.  Hadn't  I  best  cut  out  sever' 1 
many  aperns  for  her?  I  d'  know  as  I  ever  saw  a  child 
worse  off  for  clothes  than  she  is,  or  worse  on  'em  when 
she  gits  'em.  Look  at  that  frock,  oify  made  last  week! 
It's  split  down  the  back  lik>'  a  locus'!" 

Oshia  lifted  her  chin  sharply.      "  I  never  ast  y'  all  for 


18 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


clothes,"  she  said,  quivering.  A  month  of  Shakertown 
had  changed  her  considerably.  She  was  decently  hab- 
ited nowadays  in  heavy  print  frocks  that  reached  to  her 
ankles.  Her  curling-  hair  was  as  straight  as  Sister  Lena 
could  make  it,  and  over  the  loose  waves  a,  thick  black 
net  spread  its  constraining  meshes.  The  freckles,  too. 
which  had  been  a  leading  characteristic  of  Oshia's  face, 
were  blanched,  by  the  use  of  a  Shaker  bonnet  and  by 
long  hours  ill-doors,  to  mere  phantoms  of  themselves. 
Oshia  looked  pale;  she  flushed,  however,  as  the  El  dress 
held  up  an  admonitory  linger. 

"Impertinence,  Oshia!"  said  the  Eldress.  "It  seems 
to  me  that  I  am  always  reproving  you.  As  to  these 
garments,  I  can  only  say  that  most  girls  of  your  age 
would  be  able  to  assist  in  making  them.  How  does 
Oshia's  sewing  get  on,  Lena'" 

"Her  stitches  are  as  long  as  time  and  as  grimy  as  sin." 
said  Lena,  picturesquely.  "  And  she  draws  up  a  seam  till 
it  looks  like  a  flounce." 

The  Eldress  shook  her  head.  "  Rachel  Day  could  fell 
a  seam  beautifully  when  she  was  seven  years  old."  she 
remarked. 

Rachel  Day,  who  was  sitting  hard  by  on  a  wood  bench, 
smiled  modestly.  She  was  a  Iktle  demure  creature,  with 
a  gentle  glance  under  her  long  lashes. 

"Aw,  Eldress,"  she  said,  softly.  Then  she  held  up  a 
strip  of  green  barege.  "This  is  for  the  cape  of  Oshia's 
new  bonnet,"  she  said.  "I  am  hemming  it." 

"New  bonnet?"  inquired  the  Eldress.  "Why,  what 
has  become  of  the  one  Sister  Jane  wove  for  her  three 
weeks  ago?" 

Oshia  hung  her  head.  "  Sist'  Hannah  sent  me  to  the 
cellar  fer  potatoes,  and  I  fetched  'em  in  the  buimit,  bein's 
it  was  handy.  And  draggin'  it  up  the  steps  kind  of  tore 
the  straw.  But,"  broke  in  Oshia,  fervidly,  "I  just  as 
lief  not  wear  a  buimit.  Eldress.  Makes  my  head  feel 
like  it  were  in  a  trap.  I  ain't  used  to  wearing  nothing 
on  my  head  noway." 

"You  were  mightily  freckled  when  you  came  here," 
said  Rachel. 

"Was  I?  Well,  I  'ain't  ever  keered  'bout  skins  or 
such  if  I  could  only  git  to  run  free  in  the  sun.  Oh,  the 
sun!  Eldress,  I  know  I  belong  to  you  to  do  what  you 
please  with.  I  ain't  whining.  But  I  ben  shut  up  in 
this  contrapshun — this  house,  I  want  to  say — for  a  pow'- 
ful  long  time  seems  like.  I'd  take  it  mighty  grateful  if 
you'd  give  me  leave  to  go  out  yender  to  Bailey's  farm 
this  afternoon." 

"  Bailey's  farm  !" 

"  Yes — I  mean  yea,  Eldress.  I'd  like  to  see  how  them 
Bailey  boys  is  treating  our  houn'-dog.  It  like  to  broke 
my  heart  to  give  that  houu'  up!  but  seem'  Shakers  don't 
keep  nare  kind  of  pet — birds  nor  cats  nor  nothing — why, 
I  reckoned  I  best  leave  Bailey's  Jack  hev  him.  And  if 
Jack  'ain't  treated  that  dog  right,  I  aims  to  call  him  to 
time !" 

"Eight  miles!  Certainly  I  will  not  let  you  go  eight 
miles  off  to  Baileys'!"  The  Eldress,  as  she  spoke,  turned 
and  withdrew. 

"  You've  got  a  mighty  high  temper.  Oshia."  said  Lena, 
observing  the  girl's  darkening  face.  "  But  you  best  learn 
to  govern  yourself.  Eldress  aims  to  be  kind  to  you.  but 
she  won't  put  up  with  no  airs.  She  comes  from  Ohio, 
Eldress  does,  and  I've  heard  tell  as  her  folks  were  mighly 
rich  and  imposing.  She  brought  money  and  eduiMinm 
to  the  Shakers.  And  for  you  that  ain'l  ever  had  a  de- 
cent roof  over  you  to  stand  there  pouting  because  you 
can't  git  to  traipse  round  like  a  red  Injun,  why,  it's 
spurious — ain't  it,  Sisters?"  And  the  others  agreed  that  it 
was.  "  Look  at  Rachel !"  continued  Lena.  "She  ain't 
always  squirming  round  restless  as  a  colt 

"I  envies  her  mightily,"  said  Oshia,  wistfully  survey- 
ing Rachel's  small  sober  face.  She  greatly  admired 


Rachel ;  and  Rachel  took  this  admiration  coldly,  sweetly, 
just  as  she  took  everything. 

"  I  d'  know  what  makes  me  keer  fer  you  like  I  do," 
Oshia  said  to  her  one  evening  as  the  two  went  for  their 
daily  walk  "down  yender  as  far  as  the  graveyard."  Ami 
•she-  added.  "  You're  like  the  things  the  frost  spins  on  the 
winder-panes — pretty  and  fine  and  flowery  and  froze. 
You're  pow'ful  frozen-spereted,  Rachel !" 

And  Rachel,  saiiling  gently,  said,  "  What  queer  notions 
you  have,  Oshia!" 

The  sun  was  just  slipping  out  of  sight  below  the  black 
uplands,  marked  all  about  with  Shaker  fencing  of  piled 
stones.  Its  rays  lingered  rosily  on  the  enclosed  space, 
where  lay  asleep  all  the  Shakers  of  the  town  who  had 
passed  away  since  the  time  of  the  settlement's  founding, 
eighty  years  back.  A  treeless  unkempt  lot  it  was,  with 
scaling  gray  pickets  all  about.  Here  and  there  in  the 
tall  weeds  a  little  wood  head-piece  showed  white,  or  stone- 
colored,  or  quite  black  with  time. 

"  I'm  right  glad  pappy  ain't  laid  there,"  said  Oshia, 
gazing  at  the  enclosure. 

She  stood  quite  still,  looking  down  the  'pike.  An  empty 
farm-wagon  was  advancing  into  sight.  On  the  low  seat 
a  bare-footed  boy  sat,  flecking  the  flies  from  the  slow- 
going  horses  with  a  willow  switch.  Oshia  trembled. 

"It's  Jack  Bailey!"  she  said.  "Jack!  Aw,  Jack 
Bailey!"  The  boy  stared.  "  It's  me — Oshia  Fales!" 

"So  'tis!  I  never  knowed  you  first  off— in  that  rig. 
Huh!  huh!  you're  a  Shaker  gyrl  sure  'nough,  ain't  you, 
Oshy?" 

"I  reckon  I  be,"  said  Oshia,  climbing  to  the  hub. 
"Oh,  Jack  Bailey,  how's  my  houn'  a-doing?" 

The  boy's  face  took  on  an  embarrassed  look.  "We 
feed  him  to  everything,"  said  he.  "  But  look  like  lie's 
mighty  spin'ling',  Oshia.  Mighty.  He  misses  ye,  I  reck- 
on. Sometimes  dogs  pine  away  missiii'  their  masters. 
Can't  ye  come  over  'n'  see  him?  Our  folks  'd  be  rale 
pleased.  I  could  fetch  ye  in  the  wagon." 

Oshia  looked  piteously  up  from  the  road.  She  had 
dropped  limply  from  the  wheel.  "Eldress  won't  leave 
me."  she  breathed,  sadly.  "But,  Jack! — oh,  Jack! — 
She  paused,  and  glanced  at  Rachel,  waiting  primly  at 
the  wayside,  with  a  sprig  of  golden-rod  in  her  hand. 
"Jack,"  whispered  Oshia.  She  climbed  again  to  the 
hub.  and  muttered  something  in  his  ear.  He  grinned. 

"You  wouldn't  dast!"  he  said. 

"You'll  see!"  cried  Oshia,  as  the  wagon  moved  on  its 
way. 

"Shakers  ain't  allowed  to  stop  and  talk  to  travellers," 
said  Rachel,  when.  Oshia  returned  to  her.  "  I  ought  to 
tell  Eldress." 

"  Be  you  going  to?"  asked  Oshia,  anxiously. 

'Nay,"  said  Rachel.      Whereupon  Oshia  kissed  her. 

"I  didn't  mind  her  knowing,"  said  Oshia,  "but  my 
heart  would  <>'  broke,  Rachel,  if  you'd  done  such  a  triflin' 
thing  as  to  tattle." 

"  I  never  carry  tales,"  remarked  Rachel,  holding  her 
little  head  up. 

She  found  Oshia  a  most  exciting  element  in  her  life. 
She  was  even  getting  to  be  a  little — a  very  little  fond  of 
her  impetuous  roommate,  who,  after  Sister  Lena  snored 
soundly,  was  wont  to  whisper  marvellous  stories  such  as 
Rachel  in  the  whole  twelve  years  of  her  life  had  never 
dreamed  of. 

She  was  additionally  glad  later  on  that  she  had  prom- 
ised not  to  mention  their  encounter  with  Bailey's  boy. 
For  as  the  girls  ascended  the  side  steps  of  West  House 
they  heard  the  sound  of  an  excited  voice  in  the 
hall. 

"Yea,  Eldress!"  said  some  one,  who  appeared  to  be  old 
Sister  Ruth,  "  them's  the  very  words  she  used  to  me.  I 
ben  living  here  for  a  mighty  long  spell,  and  I  never  hed 
such  words  spoke  to  me  afore,  so  I  never!" 


NOVEMBER  13,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


19 


"  Are  you  sure  you  understood  Osliia  correctly?"  asked 
the  Eldress. 

"Onderstood?  why,  'twas  plain  as  day!  There  she  is 
now,  Eldress,  coining-  up  the  steps.  Ask  her." 

"Sister  Ruth  reports  to  ine  that  you  have  been  very 
rude  to  her.  Osliia,"  said  the  Eldress.  turning. 

"  Who— me;''  cried  Osliia,  aghast.  "  I  never — I  never 
sassed  her  !u  my  life!" 

"Eldress.  she  did.  It  was  like  this;  I  was  a  stuffing 
emery-bags — 

"Oh!"  said  Osliia.  "I  know  what  she  means!  She 
was  a .stuffing  emery-bags  with  cotton,  and  I  says  to  her: 
'Be  you  going  to  sell  them  there  for 'emery-bags?  They 
'ain't  got  110  emery  in  'em,' I  says.  And  she  'lowed  she 
was.  And  I  says  it  wasn't  honest  for  to  sell  folks  cotton 
when  they  thought  they  was  buying  emery.  I  never 
said  a  sassy  word,  Eldress." 

"  We  always  fill  the  bags  with  cotton,"  said  the  Eldress. 
"They  look  better." 

'  'Taiii't  honest,"  said  Oshia.  "Cotton  ain't  no  good 
to  sharpen  needles  on.'.' 

"Oshia,"  broke  forth  the  Eldress,  unable  to  combat  this 
view,  "go  to  your  room.  Go  at  once.  And  come  to  me 
to-morrow  at  ten  of  the  clock.  I  have  been  too  lenient 
with  you,  and  I  shall  now  apply  severer  rules."  Oshia 
looked  sad.  But  she  walked  away  without  making  any 
appeal. 

The  Eldress  watched  her  with  annoyance.  She  was 
not  at  all  clear  in  her  mind  as  to  what  should  be  done 
with  this  little  barbarian,  whose  untutored  ideas  of  honor 
were  so  painfully  exact.  "The  rude  child!"  muttered 
the  Eldress,  as  she  sat  down  by  her  open  window  and  gazed 
out  at  the  starlight.  She  wondered  dimly  if  it  was 
Oshia's  plain  speaking  orOshia's  plain  thinking  that  was 
most  irritating. 

"I've  tried  to  deal  fair  by  all  men,"  thought  she. 
"  Yes,  to  press  the  measure  overfull,  so  that  I  might  per- 
haps make  up  for — for —  But  she  broke  off,  as  from  a 
too  painful  vision.  The  notes  of  a  distant  w  hippoorwill 
sounded  sweet  and  faint  on  her  ear.  Presently  the  bell 
for  bed-time  rang  through  the  house.  It  rang  again,  and 
the  Eldress  knew  that  in  each  of  the  rooms  a  candle  was 
being  snuffed  out.  Darkness  and  quietude  settled  over 
the  place;  but  the  Eldress  still  lingered  by  the  window. 
She  was  thinking  of  the  Ohio  town  near  which  she  had 
lived;  of  the  days  when  she  had  been  no  austere  person 
of  importance,  but  only  a  red-cheeked  girl  whose  frolic 
spirit  made  her  the  gayest  of  the  throngs  at  quilting'  bees 
and  country  dances.  She  had  been  "  lively  as  a  cricket " 
— lively  enough  until  that  bitter,  bitter  day.  But  again 
the  Eldress  roused  herself.  She  had  long  set  herself  the 
task  of  forgetting.  Not  for  any  spell  of  dim  moonlight 
or  far-off  bird-notes  would  she  break  this  rule.  Every 
one  else  was  sleeping.  It  was  late.  She  heard  tin-  mid 
night  express  whistle  for  the  bridge  two  miles  off.  She 
would  go  to  bed  and  sleep  too.  as  the  rest  were  sleeping. 

But  was  every  one  indeed  sleeping?  The  Ehhvss 
paused.  A  soft  rustling  noise  came  from  somewhere  in  the 
house.  It  sounded  like  the  swish  of  skirts  rustling  gently 
from  step  to  step  of  the  stairs  outside.  But  as  the  Eldress 
gave  ear  she  failed  to  catch  anything  like  a  footstep. 
Still  the  faint  noise  continued.  It  appeared  to  come 
nearer,  and.  whatever  it  might  be.  to  begin  to  go  down  the 
last  flight  of  stairs. 

The  Eldress  struck  a  match  and  lighted  her  candle. 
Then  she  opened  her  door  arid  let  a  sudden  Hare  of  light 
out  into  the  dark  passages  and  narrow  steep  stairw  a\  s. 
As  her  glance  fell  on  the  lower  hall  she  gave  a  quick  ex- 
clamation. 

"I  might  have  known,"  she  said — "I  might  have 
known !"  For  there,  motionless  in  the  candle's  rays, 
struck  mute,  perhaps  with  fear,  stood  a  small  figure,  with 
hair  unnetted,  and  with  its  shoes  across  its  arm.  There 


at  the  very  sill  of  the  outer  door  she  stood,  stealing  away 
like  a  thief  in  the  night,  this  girl  whom  the  Eldress  had 
sheltered  and  fed  and  been  kind  to  after  her  fashion. 

The  Eldress's  heart  swelled  with  indignation.  If  Oshia 
wanted  to  go,  she  herself  would  certainly  make  no  objec- 
tion to  such  a  riddance,  provided  only  that  the  child  had 
a  place  to  go  to.  But  had  she?  And  even  if  she  had  it 
was  not  in  accordance  with  Oshia's  usual  straightfor- 
wardness thus  to  be  sneaking  away  from  Shakertown 
at  dead  of  night.  These  considerations  went  in  a  Hash 
through  the  Eldress's  mind.  Then  very  sternly  she  said, 
"Oshia!"  At  this  the  figure  veered  round.  It  gave  a 
frightened  sob,  but  the  sound  on  its  lips  was  drowned  in 
the  Eldress's  sharp  output  of  breath  as  she  stood  staring 
into  the  hall.  For  it  was  not  Oshia's  face  which  thus 
whitely  regarded  her,  not  Oshia's  vivid,  honest  little  vis- 
age at  all,  but  the  soft  countenance  of  Rachel  Day. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


A  EUNAWAY  FIN-BACK. 

A    WHALING    YARN. 
BY   A.   J.    ENSIGN. 

IT  was  in  the  second  dog-watch,  and  the  wind  was  light 
but  steady  over  the  port  quarter.  The  ship  had  her 
stu'ns'ls  on,  and  her  three  milk-white  steeples  of  canvas 
loomed  fair  against  the  deep  blue  sky.  Away  forward, 
where  the  draught  out  of  her  head-sails  fanned  their  pipes 
to  a  red  glow,  half  a  dozen  young  and  active  fellows  were 
clustered  around  a  sailor  known  as  Handsome,  because 
he  looked  like  the  figure-head  of  a  Greek  battle  trireme, 
designed  to  strike  terror  to  the  hearts  of  foes.  Handsome 
was  so  old  that  he  was  a  forecastle  patriarch,  and  had  a 
fund  of  ocean  experience  that  made  every  dog-watch  a 
feast  of  yarns. 

"Say,  Handsome,"  said  a  sailor  known  as  Farmer  Joe, 
because  he  looked  like  a  farmer,  "did  you  ever  sarve  on 
a  whaler?" 

"  Yes,  lad,  I  did, "said  Handsome,  emphatically.  "Fact 
is,  Joe,  that  was  my  start  at  sea." 

"  Yeou  'ain't  never  told  us  about  that,"  said  Farmer 
Joe. 

"Well,  that's  true,  but  I'll  tell  you  now,"  said  Hand- 
some. He  leaned  back  against  the  windlass  and  puffed 
hard  at  his  pipe,  while  he  gathered  his  memories  of  the 
early  fifties  together.  "  I  was  the  son  of  a  farmer,  lads." 
he  said,  "  and  I  took  to  reading  some  of  those  silly  yarns 
of  the  sea  written  by  meir  that  never  saw  salt  water.  I 
ought  to  have  known  better,  for  I  went  to  a  good  school  and 
hail  a  good  home.  But  I  thought  I  was  badly  off,  and  so 
one  day  I  up  and  ran  away.  I  made  for  the  nearest  sea- 
port, which  happened  to  be  New  Bedford.  There  I  set 
about  getting  a  berth.  It  didn't  take  me  long  to  find  nut 
that  merchant  ships  had  no  use  for  a  farmer's  boy.  They 
wanted  sailors,  not  landsmen.  But  I  learned  that  with 
whalemen  it  was  different.  An  old  boat-steerer,  who 
saw  me  standing  on  a  wharf  looking  at  a  whaler,  came 
up  to  me  and  said  : 

"'Don't  you  want  to  ship?  Good  wages,  and  your 
outfit  provided.' 

"  I  told  him  I'd  never  been  to  sea,  but  he  said  that 
didn't  make  any  difference;  whalers  rather  liked  to  ship 
green  hands.  So  the  long  and  short  of  it  was  that  I 
shipped  for  the  voyage,  and  when  we  cleared  from  port 
I  soon  found  out  that  he  had  told  me  the  truth.  Our 
crew  was  the  meanest  mixture  of  greenhorns  I  ever  saw. 
For  nearly  a  week  most  of  them  were  half  dead  from  sea- 
sickr.css,  and  wished  they'd  never  seen  the  sea.  I  was 
one  of  'them.  Then  the  mates  began  to  teach  us  our 
work.  They  used  to  stand  alongside  the  rigpiii-'  and 
club  us  to  make  us  go  aloft.  It  took  about  a  week  to 
teach  us  that.  Then  came  the  job  of  showing  us  the 


20 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


ropes.  Some  of  the  hands  never  did  learn  then).  I  guess 
I  was  meant  for  the  sea,  for  I  learned  them  without  much 
trouble.  Well,  I  don't  suppose  you  want  to  hear  about 
the  early  part  of  our  voyage.  What  you  want  to  know 
is  what  happened  on  the  whaling-grounds. 

"We  were  bound  for  the  Indian  Ocean,  and  it  was  the 
Captain's  scheme  to  cruise  along  the  Madagascar  coast, 
which  in  those  days  was  a  fine  whaling-ground.  It  may 
be  yet,  for  all  I  know.  To  get  to  the  point,  however, 
imagine  the  whaler  Ellen  Burgee  standing  on  an  easy 
bow-line  in  a  light  breeze.  You  know  the  way  a  whaler 
covered  a  cruising-ground  in  those  days  was  to  beat  to 
windward  on  tacks  running  from  one  side  of  the  ground 
to  the  other  and  then  rim  back  to  leeward — for  the  winds 
are  mostly  steady  in  those  latitudes.  Of  course  we  were 
looking  for  sperm-whales,  though  we  were  willing  to 
take  anything  that  came  along.  All  of  a  sudden  the 
mast-head  lookout  yells,  '  There  she  blows,  and  there  she 
white-waters!'  In  a  minute  all  was  excitement  aboard 
the  ship,  and  we  stood  by  to  lower  away  our  four  boats. 
Some  jumped  to  loosen  the  boat  gripes,  and  others  to  put 
the  line  tubs  in  place.  Lines  had  to  be  bent  on,  sheaths 
taken  off  the  harpoons  and  lances,  sails  and  spars  made 
ready,  and  a  dozen  other  things  done  that  I  thought  might 
have  been  done  long  before. 

"  '  There  goes  flukes!'  yelled  the  mast-head  man. 

"That  meant  that  the  whale  had  turned  his  tail  up 
into  the  air  and  headed  for  the  bottom.  Well,  anyhow, 
you  must  know  that  once  whales  are  sighted  a  whaler 
lowers  away  her  boats,  because  the  whales  soon  come  up 
again.  The  whales  had  been  sighted  under  our  lee  about 
two  miles  away,  so  as  soon  as  the  boats  were  in  the 
water  we  got  sail  on  them,  and  began  to  run  down  the 
wind.  When  we  got  to  a  place  about  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  from  where  we  thought  the  whale  was  likely  to 
come  up  we  hove  to  and  waited.  It  wasn't  long  before 
I  heard  a  sound  like  a  puff  of  a  river  steamboat,  and  our 
boat-steerer  said,  in  a  low  tone: 

"  '  There  blows!     Pull  a  stroke  or  two,  boys!' 

"We  started  the  boat  ahead,  and  then  let  her  run  un- 
der her  canvas,  the  idea  being  to  come  on  his  hulks  from 
astern,  because  you  can't  run  alongside  of  a  sperm-whale 
from  abeam.  His  eye  is  fixed  so  he  can  see  abeam,  but 
not  astern.  We  soon  found  out,  though,  that  the  first 
mate's  boat  was  a  good  deal  nearer  to  the  brute  than  we 
were,  so  we  rested  on  our  oars  and  watched  them  go  in. 
They  sailed  down  pretty  close,  and  then  ran  alongside 
under  oars.  The  harpooner  stood  up,  and  let  fly  his 
iron,  and  the  whale  hove  his  tail  into  the  air  and  went 
down — sounded,  as  they  call  it.  The  boat  began  to  tow 
ahead  a  little,  and  we  were  watching  the  performance, 
when  all  of  a  sudden  our  eyes  were  taken  to  another 
sight.  Right  abreast  of  us,  about  half  a  mile  away,  the 
water  burst  wide  open,  and  a  dark-skinned  monster 
shot  his  full  length  into  the  air,  falling  back  into  the 
sea  with  a  terrible  crash,  and  raising  as  much  foam  as  a 
small  white  squall.  That's  what  they  call  breaching, 
and  it's  a  grand  sight,  I  tell  you,  when  you  first  see  it. 
Well,  we  all  braced  up  and  gripped  our  oars,  expecting 
an  order  to  pull,  but  the  boat-steerer  shook  his  head. 

"  '  It's  a  sulphur-bottom,'  says  he. 

"  '  What's  a  sulphur-bottom?'  says  I. 

"  '  It's  one  kind  of  a  fin-back,'  he  answers.  '  Look  at 
him  and  you'll  see  the  fin  on  his  back.' 

"  '  Ain't  fin-backs  good  for  anything?'  I  asked. 

"  '  Yes,'  says  he,  '  they  try  out  a  heap  of  oil;  but  they 
say  that  when  they're  struck  all  they  do  is  to  run  like  an 
express  train.' 

"All  this  time  we  were  drifting  down  toward  the 
brute,  and  I  could  see  that  the  boat-steerer's  eyes  were 
burning  with  excitement. 

"  '  Did  you  ever  see  one  struck?'  I  asked. 

"  'No,'  says  he;   'but  I'd  like  to.' 


'  '  Let's  have  a  go  at  this  fellow,'  says  one  of  the  other 
hands. 

'  I've  half  a  mind  to  try  it,'  said  the  boat-steerer. 

"With  that  we  pulled  ahead  a  few  strokes,  and  that 
settled  the  matter. 

'  'Give  way,  lads,' says  he;  'I'll  put  an  iron  in  that 
fellow,  and  kill  him,  too,  if  he  tows  me  to  the  Cape  of 
Good  Hope.' 

"  The  boat-steerer,  you  must  know,  is  in  the  bow  of  the 
boat  all  this  time,  and  it's  he  that  throws  the  harpoon. 
Well,  he  tells  us  that  we  must  let  the  line  run  out  at  first, 
just  as  we  would  if  we'd  struck  a  sperm-whale,  and  that 
after  a  lot  had  run  out  we  could  check  it  a  little,  and  get 
the  boat  going.  All  right.  We  pulled  ahead  at  a  lively 
gait.  Say,  boys,  going  on  to  your  first  whale  is  a  pretty 
exciting  business,  because  you  can't  see  him,  your  back 
being  turned,  but  you  can  hear  him  spouting  and  wal- 
lowing in  the  sea.  I  stole  a  look  over  my  shoulder,  and 
I  was  sorry  for  it.  I  was  almost  scared  to  death  when  I 
saw  the  size  of  the  beast.  I  turned  my  head  away,  shut 
my  eyes,  and  pulled.  Presently  I  saw  the  big  tail  in  the 
water,  right  alongside  of  the  boat,  it  seemed.  At  the  same 
instant  I  heard  the  boat-steerer's  pant  of  exertion  as  he 
hove  the  harpoon  with  all  his  might.  Instantly  I  heard 
the  iron  plunge  into  the  fish  with  a  sound  like  a  shovel 
going  into  a  pile  of  coal.  And  then — well,  then  there 
was  a  marine  circus. 

"  The  harpoon  line,  you  know,  is  coiled  in  a  tub.  You 
ought  to  have  seen  it  go  out.  Mr.  Fin-back  put  his  head 
level  with  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  started  off  like 
something  crazy.  The  line  went  out  of  the  tub  so  fast 
it  made  us  dizzy,  and  it  whizzed  around  the  bow-chock, 
where  a  single  turn  is  taken,  so  that  it  smoked.  We  threw 
water  on  it,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  whale  slowed  down. 
Now  we  got  two  turns  around  the  chock,  and  let  him  tow 
us.  And  that's  where  we  made  our  mistake.  Say,  there 
isn't  any  tow-boat  on  earth  like  a  fin-back  whale.  This 
one  seemed  to  know  what  our  idea  was,  and  he  made  up 
his  mind — if  you  can  say  that  a  whale  has  a  mind — that 
he  would  give  us  all  the  fun  we  wanted.  He'd  slowed 
down,  as  I  was  telling  you,  to  what  you  might  call  a 
little  better  than  steerage-way.  As  soon  as  we  got  those 
turns  made  he  seemed  to  know  just  what  we'd  done,  and 
he  started  off  again. 

"At  first  he  went  along  at  a  six-knot  gait,  the  whale- 
boat  dancing  over  the  swells  as  if  she  was  a  fish  herself. 
Then  he  opened  up  a  little  more  and  lifted  her  to  an  eight- 
knot  clip.  That's  hard  pulling  for  a  small  boat,  but  he 
steadily  increased  his  gait  till  he  worked  it  up  to  fifteen 
knots.  Then  he  let  himself  out.  Great  bacon,  how  he 
did  go!  The  line  hummed  like  a  fiddle-string.  The  bow 
of  the  boat  stood  right  up  at  an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees 
on  top  of  the  pile  of  snowy  foam  it  made.  The  water 
hissed  past  the  bulwarks  like  the  boiling  of  a  big  tea- 
kettle. It  made  us  all  sick  and  dizzy,  and  we  were  half 
scared  to  death.  How  long  do  you  suppose  it  lasted? 
I  don't  believe  it  was  over  five  minutes,  but  I  know  we 
made  two  miles  in  that  time.  But  it  had  to  end.  No 
whale-boat  that  was  ever  built  would  stand  such  a  strain. 
Her  bows  seemed  to  bend  in.  Every  seam  in  her  opened. 
The  water  rushed  in,  and  she  was  half  full  in  a  couple 
of  seconds. 

"  '  Bail  her  out !    Bail  her  out!'  yelled  the  boat-steerer. 
'  What's  the  use?'  says  I,  bailing  all  the  same.     'She 
won't  stay  bailed.' 

'  For  pity's  sake  cut  the  line  and  let  the  demon  go!' 
says  another  fellow. 

'  Yes,  yes;  let  him  go!?  cried  the  rest. 

"  The  boat-steerer  grabbed  the  axe,  which  is  always 
handy  in  a  whale-boat  for  just  such  a  purpose,  and  cut 
the  line.  He  drove  the  blade  through  two  strands,  and 
the  others  gave  way  with  a  report  like  a  gun.  The  boat 
came  to  so  sudden  that  some  of  the  hands  fell  backward 


'FOR    PITY'S    SAKE    CUT    THE    LINK    AND    LET   THE    DEMON    GOT 


of?  tlie  thwarts  as  if  they'd  caught  crabs.  The  whale  he 
just  kept  011  going  at  his  terrific  speed.  He  looked  like 
a  first-class  torpedo-boat  as  lie  went  sizzling  away  through 
the  water  with  our  harpoon  sticking  out  of  his  neck,  and 
the  line  streaming  away  from  it  like  a  homeward-bound 
pennant.  He  was  out  of  sight  in  an  amazing  way. 
Say,  a  fin-back  whale  is  a  real  ocean  greyhound,  boys." 

"  Waal,  Handsome,"  said  Farmer  Joe,  as  the  narrator 
paused,  "  what  became  of  you  chaps  in  the  boat?" 

"I  didn't  know  that  you  wanted  to  hear  any  more 
except  about  the  whale,"  said  Handsome.  "  However,  I 
suppose  a  yarn  can't  end  with  a  boat's  crew  adrift  in  a 
sieve  on  the  Madagascar  whaling-grounds.  Well,  then, 
as  soon  as  the  whale  had  vamoosed,  the  boat-steerer  look- 
ed all  around  for  our  ship,  but  she  was  not  in  sight. 

"  '  Well,  boys,'  says  he,  '  we  must  keep  this  crazy  tub 
afloat  somehow,  and  trust  to  their  finding  us.  They're 
sure  to  cruise  around  and  hunt  for  us.' 

"So  some  of  us  pulled  off  our  shirts,  and  ripped  them 
up  to  make  a  sort  of  oakum  to  calk  the  boat.  I  suppose 
some  of  you  may  know  that  a  whaleman  is  the  worst- 
dressed  sailor  in  the  world.  He  generally  takes  rags  that 
no  one  else  would  wear,  and  puts  patches  011  them  till 
you  can't  tell  what  they  were  made  out  of  at  first.  So 
it's  easy  enough  to  pull  such  things  apart.  We  stuffed 
the  open  seams  as  well  as  we  could  from  the  inside,  and 
then  we  set  to  work  to  take  turns  bailing  her  out  so  as  to 
keep  her  afloat,  for  she  still  kept  on  taking  in  a  consider- 
able amount  of  water.  However,  we  did  keep  her  on  top 
of  the  ocean. 

"'Now, 'says  the  boot-steerer,  'there's  no  use  of  our 
rowing,  because  we  don't  know  which  way  to  row  to  meet 
the  ship.' 

"But  the  men  couldn't  stand  sitting  there  doing  no- 
thing, so  we  just  paddled  along  easily.  Night  came  down 
on  us  and  no  sign  of  the  ship.  Toward  morning  the 
wind  began  to  freshen,  and  by  daylight  it  was  blowing 
pretty  briskly.  Now  we  found  ourselves  hard  put  to  it 


to  keep  the  boat  afloat.  She  leaked  like  a  mouse-trap, 
and  we  were  mighty  glad  when  we  sighted  a  dismasted 
wreck  drifting  down  on  us.  It  didn't  take  us  long  to  see 
that  it  was  abandoned,  but  we  decided  to  board  it.  We 
did  so,  and  found  that  it  was  likely  to  float  twelve  or 
fourteen  hours  longer.  So  we  made  up  our  minds  to  let 
the  boat  go,  take  to  the  wreck,  and  build  a  raft  to  float  us 
when  the  wreck  sank.  We  were  working  at  the  raft 
when  suddenly  one  of  the  men  yelled, 

"  'Sail  ho!' 

"Sure  enough  there  was  a  vessel  bearing  down  on  us. 
She  wasn't  over  three  miles  away,  but  we'd  been  so  busy 
at  our  raft  that  we  had  not  seen  her  before. 

'By  hookey!'  exclaimed   Bill    Sudds,  'it's    our   own 
ship!' 

'  '  So  it  is !'  cried  the  boot-steerer. 

"  Then  we  all  set  up  a  cheer.  But  say,  lads,  it  wasn't 
our  own  ship  at  all.  It  was  her  sister  ship,  the  Two 
Cousins,,  which  had  sailed  the  year  before.  However, 
she  took  us  off  the  wreck.  It  was  six  months  before  we 
saw  our  own  ship  again,  and  what  happened  to  us  aboard 
the  Tivo  Cousins  I'll  tell  you  some  other  time." 


GRANDFATHER'S  ADVENTURES. 

BY   PAUL  HULL. 
THE    BABOON 

RALPH  PELL  was  spending  a  few  days  with  Grand 
father  Sterling.  Although  he  lived  in  the  same  vil- 
lage, and  could  run  in  every  day  to  greet  the  old  reiiii'd 
sea-captain,  it  always  delighted  him  to  obtain  permission 
to  carry  his  valise  over  to  "  grandpop's  "  for  a  short  visit, 
and  take  possession  of  his  particular  room,  on  the  walls 
of  which  hung  many  of  the  trophies  and  forget-me-nots 
that  his  grandfather  had  collected  in  various  quarters  of 
the  world,  and  had  brought  on  shore  with  him  when  he 
sailed  his  ship  into  port  for  the  last  time.  The  boy  had 


22 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME    XVI 


been  allowed  to  select  from  the  general  stock  such  arti- 
cles as  he  fancied  for  the  purpose  of  decorating  the  room, 
which  the  kindly  and  indulgent  old  man  called  "Ralph's 
bunk." 

It  looked  more  like  a  museum  than  a  bedroom.  Over 
the  mantel  were  arranged  with  artistic  effect  a  hippopot- 
amus-hide shield,  a  dozen  savage-looking  spears,  and  sev- 
eral crudely  shaped  but  keen-edged  knives.  This  outfit 
had  once  been  the  property  of  a  noted  Zulu  chief.  Else- 
where on  the  walls  were  beautiful  specimens  of  the  saw 
and  sword  fish,  elephants'  tusks,  harpoons  that  had  time 
and  again  been  buried  deep  in  the  body  of  some  giant 
whale,  and  shark-hooks,  to  which  were  secured  lengths  of 
strong  chain,  showing  the  dents  made  upon  the  links  by 
the  formidable  jaws  and  teeth  of  more  than  one  blood- 
thirsty ocean  monster.  Bows  and  arrows  from  New  Zea- 
land, boomerangs  from  Australia,  narwhal  tusks  from 
polar  seas,  and  many  otheii  curiosities  had  a  place  in  the 
collection.  But  the  most  striking  piece  of  all  was  a  huge 
stuffed  baboon,  standing  upright,  and  holding  in  one  of  its 
hands  a  large  stone,  which  it  seemed  to  be  throwing. 

Ralph  was  still  in  the  land  of  dreams  when  black  Sam, 
his  grandfather's  old  sea  <-<><>k.  pounded  on  his  door  and 
exclaimed,  "  Six  bells  am  gone,  sah,  an'  de  Cap'n  say  fo' 
you  ter  turn  out!" 

As  Ralph  jumped  out  of  bed  he  saw  by  the  clock  over 
the  mantel-piece  that  it  was  a  few  minutes  past  seven,  so 
he  was  obliged  to  make  a  hasty  toilet  in  order  to  join  his 
grandfather  for  the  letter's  regular  exercise  up  and  down 
the  piazza  before  breakfast. 

"  Grand  pop,"  said  Ralph,  as  they  sat  at  the  table  en- 
joying the  tasty  dishes  that  Sam  knew  so  well  how  to 
prepare,  "every  curiosity  you  own  seems  to  have  an  in- 
teresting history,  so  I  wouldn't  be  surprised  if  that  big 
baboon  in  my  room  was  no  exception." 

A  far-away  look  crept  into  the  old  seaman's  eyes.  He 
was  silent  for  a  few  moments,  then  he  said  : 

"You  are  right,  Ralph;  it  has  a  history,  and  a  very 
peculiar  one.  We  will  go  up  to  your  room  shortly,  and 
I  will  tell  it  to  you." 

After  Grandfather  Sterling  had  made  his  customary 
"  morning  inspection,"  as  he  called  it,  of  the  grounds  and 
out-buildings,  he  went  up  to  Ralph's  room  and  looked  at 
the  subject  of  his  story. 

"Well,  old  fellow,"  said  he.  "I'm  going  to  tell  Ralph 
something  about  your  bad  character,  and  I've  come  up 
here  so  as  to  show  him  how  pleasant  you  looked  when  I 
first  made  your  acquaintance."  Then  he  seated  himself 
in  a  quaint  bamboo  chair  that  he  had  brought  home  from 
India,  and  commenced: 

"A  good  many  years  ago  I  was  captain  of  a  fine  little 
clipper-ship  called  The  Merry  Maiden,  which  the  owners 
chartered  to  a  party  of  scientists  from  one  of  our  great 
institutions,  who  proposed  to  explore  a  small  island  known 
as  Anno  Bom,  situated  in  the  Gulf  of  Guinea.  We  made 
a  fairly  quick  voyage  out,  considering  that  we  were 
obliged  to  navigate  through  the  Belt  of  Calms,  and  as  the 
island  is  only  four  miles  long  by  one  and  a  half  miles  in 
breadth,  our  party  completed  their  examination  in  about 
one  month. 

"A  day  or  two  before  the  time  set  for  sailing  I  sent 
the  boats  on  shore  with  all  our  empty  casks  for  the  pur- 
pose of  filling  them  up  with  fresh  water  for  our  home- 
ward voyage,  and  as  the  hunting  was  excellent,  I  de- 
termined to  try  my  luck  in  the  woods  just  back  of  the 
beach.  The  taxidermist  of  the  expedition,  Professor  Wil- 
kins,  asked  permission  to  accompany  me,  so  as  to  add,  if 
possible,  to  the  collection  that  he  had  made  since  the  ar- 
rival of  the  ship,  and  as  he  was  a  most  congenial  com- 
panion, I  gladly  gave  my  consent. 

"  We  had  worked  our  way  well  across  the  island  with 
out  sighting  anything  worth  firing  at,  when  certain   in- 
ward pangs  in  the  region  of  our  belts  told  us  that  lunch- 


time  was  at  hand.  After  doing  ample  justice  to  the  ex- 
cellent meal  that  the  steward  had  put  up  for  us,  we 
stretched  ourselves  on  the  long  grass  under  a  grove  of 
wild  orange- trees,  and  were  rapidly  drifting  off  into  a  nap, 
when  we  were  brought  to  our  senses  by  a  confused  grunt- 
ing and  chattering,  and  almost  immediately  from  be- 
tween the  trees  quite  close  to  us  came  a  half-dozen  baby 
baboons  and  a  little  negro  boy  about  three  years  of  age, 
who  gambolled  and  grunted  away  as  playfully  as  the 
rest,  seeming  to  find  all  the  enjoyment  he  wanted  in  the 
society  of  his  animal  friends.  The  Professor  leaned  tow- 
ard me  and  whispered: 

"'They  have  stolen  that  baby,  and  it  is  growing  up 
into  a  baboon  like  its  associates.  I  have  read  of  such 
things.  Let  us  rescue  it  and  rush  for  the  boats,  for  the 
old  baboons  must  be  near  by.  and  they  are  very  fierce 
when  roused,  and  will  be  sure  to  fight  us.' 

"  We  waited  for  a  moment,  until  the  little  company 
had  come  close  to  our  tree  in  their  play,  then  we  made  a 
dash  for  the  child.  As  quick  as  a  flash  they  all  scattered, 
setting  up  frightened  shrieks  ;  but  the  Professor  caught 
the  boy,  and  started  on  a  run  through  the  woods,  I  follow- 
ing. The  way  that  little  human  monkey  struggled  and 
scratched  was  a  caution,  but  the  Professor  held  on  to 
him.  and  his  long  legs  had  almost  reached  the  edge  of 
the  woods,  quite  a  distance  in  advance  of  me,  when  I 
heard  an  angry  roar  behind,  and  a  huge  baboon  bounded 
by,  giving  me  an  ugly  side  look  as  he  passed,  as  much  as 
tn  say.  '  I'll  take  care  of  you,  my  chap,  after  I've  settled 
with  the  other  thief.' 

"It  may  have  been  my  shout  of  warning  that  startled 
him  so  as  to  cause  the  accident,  but.,  at  any  rate,  the  next 
thing  I  saw  was  the  Professor  pitch  forward  and  roll  over 
and  over  in  the  grass,  holding  safely  through  it  all  to  his 
captive.  I  put  out  all  the  speed  that  there  was  left  in 
me,  but  the  baboon  won  the  race,  and  just  as  the  brave 
man  struggled  to  his  knees  the  enraged  beast  picked  up 
a  large  stone  and  raised  it  to  dash  upon  his  unprotected 
head.  At  the  same  instant  I  brought  my  gun  to  the 
shoulder,  pressed  the  trigger,  and  the  baboon  pitched  life- 
less at  the  Professor's  feet. 

"  We  took  the  boy,  together  with  the  big  monkey  and 
the  stone,  which  was  locked  in  his  hand,  off  to  the  ship, 
where  the  baboon  was  stuffed  and  presented  to  me  by  the 
man  whose  life  had  nearly  paid  the  penalty  of  its  anger. 

"Knowing  that  there  was  a  small  settlement  of  Por- 
tuguese negroes  at  the  eastern  end  of  the  island,  we  made 
a  journey  there  the  next  day.  and  were  delighted  to  find 
the  mother  of  the  boy.  She  had  lost  it  about  a  year  be- 
fore, and  had  long  since  given  up  hope  of  ever  seeing  it 
again,  believing  that  it  had  wandered  into  the  woods  close 
by,  and  had  been  killed  by  the  wild  hogs  that  abounded 
on  the  island.  And  that,  my  boy,"  concluded  the  old 
sailor,  "is  the  history  of  your  roommate  over  there  in 
the  corner." 


AFLOAT   WITH   THE    FLAG. 

•BY    \V.  J.   HENDERSON. 

CHAPTER     III. 
PREPARING    TO    OBEY. 

/~1  EORGE   tore   open    the  envelope  addressed  to  him, 
\Jf  and  read  as  follows: 

BUREAU  ov  NAVIGATION,  NAVY  UI-PARTMENT,  Juin:  20,  1893. 
Xaval  Cadtt  GVojy/p  Briscoinb: 

You   will  immc'cli:iH'ly   report    for   duty  to   Commander  Willard    II. 
Brownson,  aboard  the  U.S.S.  Detroit,  now  at  Norfolk. 

FRANCIS  M.  RAMSAY, 
( '/tit  /'  of  Bureau  of  Navigation  and  Officf  of  Detail. 

"  The  Detroit .'"  exclaimed  Harold. 

"The  Detroit!"  cried  George.      "We'll  be  shipmates!" 


NOVEMBER  13,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


23 


"  Are  you  ordered  to  her  too?" 

"  Yes,  and  immediately." 

"  That's  simply  too  flue  for  anything,"  said  Harold. 

"I  congratulate  you  two  fellows,"  said  Frank,  rather 
sadly. 

•'Frank,'1  said  George,  "I'm  awfully  sorry  you're  not 
going  with  us." 

"So  am  I,"  added  Harold;  "but  you  know  it  was  not 
to  be  expected  that  the  kings  down  at  Washington  would 
consider  our  wishes.  We  are  in  the  service,  and  we 
must  obey  orders." 

"  But,  boys,"  suddenly  exclaimed  Captain  Lockwood, 
"didn't  I  read  somewhere  lately  that  the  Detroit  was  to 
be  ordered  to  the  South  Atlantic  station?'1 

"Is  that  so?"  cried  George. 

"Wait  a  moment,"  said  Harold.  "I  read  that  too, 
but  I  am  quite  sure  I  have  read  since  that  the  order  had 
been  countermanded,  and  that  she  was  to  remain  on  the 
North  Atlantic  station." 

"But  even  that  would  mean  a  voyage  to  the  West 
Indies  in  the  fall,"  said  Captain  Lockwood,  "and  down 
there  you  might  get  on  the  track  of  my  boy." 

"You  may  depend  on  one  thing,  sir,"  said  Harold, 
earnestly;  "  we  have  made  up  our  minds  to  help  you  look 
for  your  son,  and  wherever  we  go  we'll  leave  no  stone 
unturned  to  find  him." 

Captain  Lockwood  grasped  the  boy's  hand  and  shook 
it  heartily. 

And  now  began  a  time  of  bustle  and  hurry,  for  the 
orders  said  "  immediately,"  and  that  meant  that  they 
must  be  obeyed  within  twelve  hours. 

"  The  first  thing  to  do  is  to  answer,  isn't  it?"  asked 
George. 

"Of  course,"  said  Harold.  "Hurry  up,  too;  we've 
lots  to  do." 

Some  regulation  navy  paper  and  two  dignified  while 
envelopes  were  procured,  and  then  the  two  boys  sat  down 
and  wrote  letters  like  this: 

NEW  YrmH,  June  21,  1893. 

SIR, — I  IKIVC  the  honor  to  acknowledge  tlie  receipt  of  the  Bureau's 
order  of  the  20th  for  duty  aboard  the  U.S.S.  Detroit,  and  will  pro- 
ceed in  obedience  thereto. 

I  am,  very  respectfully,  your  obedient  servant, 

HAROLD  KING, 
K,u;d  Cadet,  U.8.N. 

To  Commodore  Franris  M.  Ramsay,  U.  S  N., 

Chief  of  the  Bureau  of  Navigation  and  Office  of  D  flail. 

"There!"  said  Harold,  as  he  sealed  his  up;  "now  I'll 
go  right  out  and  post  these,  and  at  the  same  time  hunt 
up  a  railway  guide,  and  see  at  what  time  we  can  start  for 
Norfolk." 

"And  while  you're  gone,"  responded  George,  "I'll  be 
getting  our  things  together." 

"I'll  help  you,  if  you'll  let  me,"  said  Minnie. 

"  It  won't  take  long,"  answered  Harold,  laughing,  as  he 
went  out. 

"A  sailor  don't  need  much  dunnage,"  Captain  Lock- 
wood  said. 

Frank  stood  at  the  window,  drumming  on  a  pane  of 
glass  with  impatient  fingers. 

"Come,  Frank,"  said  George,  "be  a  good  fellow  and 
help  me  to  pack  up." 

"All  right,"  he  answered;  "but  you  mustn't  blame 
me  for  feeling  sore  because  I'm  not  going  with  you." 

"I  don't;  but  just  think,  you  may  be  ordered  to  the 
New  York  when  she  goes  into  service." 

"Not  much  chance  of  that.  Those  gilt-edged  berths 
are  only  for  the  elect." 

A  few  moments  later  Harold  came  briskly  in,  with  a 
fine  color  in  his  cheeks  and  a  bright  light  in  his  eyes. 
"It's  all  right,"  he  said;  "we  can  leave  at  ten  o'clock 
to-night,  and  be  there  early  in  the  morning.  I've  got  an 
expressman  who  has  agreed  to  take  our  trunks  down  at 


that  outrageous  hour.  But  I  wonder  what's  the  matter 
with  me:  I  feel  so  light?" 

"I'll  tell  you, "said  Captain  Lockwood:  "You're  hol- 
low. You  haven't  had  your  dinner." 

"But  it's  all  ready  now,"  said  Minnie. 

Captain  Lockwood  led  the  way  to  the  dining-room,  and 
for  a  few  minutes  they  were  all  silent  as  they  attacked 
the  smoking  dishes  which  had  been  prepared  under  Min- 
nie's supervision. 

"There!"  said  George,  as  he  laid  down  his  napkin  at 
the  close  of  the  meal:  "trunks  packed  and  ready  to  go; 
boys  packed  too,  and  department  informed.  I  guess 
there's  nothing  more  to  do." 

"Yes,"  said  Harold,  "there's  one  thing  more.  We 
must  go  and  telegraph  to  our  mothers." 

"That's  so!"  cried  George,  jumping  up.  "Come  on, 
Hal;  let's  go  and  do  that  right  away." 

And  George  rushed  out,  followed  with  less  haste  by 
his  more  deliberate  classmate. 

CHAPTER     IV. 
PETER   MORRIS,  COCKSWAIN. 

"How  delighted  my  mother  will  be  when  she  gets 
this!"  exclaimed  George,  as  he  hastily  scribbled  his  de- 
spatch. 

"I  don't  know  that  my  mother  will  be  so  remarkably 
glad, "said  Harold. 

"Why  noi  '." 

"  Because  I  think  she  had  a  little  hope  that  I  would  be 
kept  ashore  long  enough  for  her  to  make  a  trip  to  the 
East  and  spend  a  week  or  two  with  me." 

"Well,"  said  George,  speaking  slowly  and  rather 
thoughtfully,  "I  don't  know  but  my  mother  would  have 
liked  pretty  well  to  see  me  before  I  got  under  way  for 
blue  water:  but  who  knows?  We  may  be  tied  up  in  a 
navy-yard  for  two  or  three  months,  and  so  our  mothers 
may  manage  to  come  and  see  us,  after  all." 

"That's  so,  Geordie,"  said  Hal,  speaking  affectionately. 
"You  have  a  happy  way  of  seeing  tilings  at  their 
best." 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  that's  because  I  don't  like  to  look  at 
them  the  other  way." 

"  We  must  make  a  move,"  said  Harold  ;  "  we  have  none 
too  much  time  to  spare." 

As  the  boys  passed  out  of  the  telegraph -office  they 
noticed  a  man  in  the  dress  of  a  United  States  sailor  stand- 
ing on  the  sidewalk,  staring  through  the  window.  The 
man  turned,  and  pulling  ott'  his  cap,  scratched  his  head. 
Then  he  said. 

"Beggin"  yer  pardon,  gentlemen,  could  ye  tell  me  wot 
the  time  are?" 

"Yes,  my  lad,"  said  Harold,  pleasantly;  "it's  half  past 
eight.  Can't  you  see  the  clock  in  the  telegraph-office?" 

"  Oh,  sure !  I  sees  the  clock  all  right,  but  wot  I  doesn't 
see  are  the  time.  Them  there  new-fangled  figurations 
on  the  frontispiece  o'  a  clock  ain't  no  good  fur  to  steer  by 
at  all.  I  reckon  I'd  run  foul  o' midnight  if  I  was  a-hunt- 
in'  fur  the  fust  dog-watch  by  one  o'them  figurated  clocks." 

Harold  and  George  smiled,  and  were  about  to  pass  on, 
when  the  man  turned  again  and  spoke: 

"  Beggin'  yer  pardon  the  second  time,  I'd  like  to  know 
wot  are  the  nearest  way  to  the  Pennsylvauy  Railroad 
ferry.  I  reckon  my  dunnage  are  down  there,  an' it  are 
my  opinion  that  I  ought  to  be  there  too." 

Harold  looked  at  the  embroidered  mark  on  the  man's 
sleeve,  and  saw  that  he  was  rated  a  cocks  wain.  "  Cocks')  i." 
he  said,  "you  just  walk  down  to  the  end  of  the  block, 
and  take  a  car  going  to  your  left,  and  it'll  take  you 
within  a  block  of  the  ferry." 

"  Thank  ye  kindly,  sir,"  said  the  man.  "  Cocks'n  I  are, 
an'  cocks'n  I'm  likely  to  be.  An'  my  name  are  Peter 
Morris,  at  your  sarvice,  sir.  An'  so  good-night." 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


"WHY,  LOOK!  ...  THE  COCKSWAIN   IS   IN  TROUBLE   NOW." 

With  that  the  sailor  started  at  a  rapid  though  lumber- 
ing guit  in  the  direction  indicated. 

"I  always  feel  sorry  for  a  sailor  wandering  about  a 
great  city  at  night," said  Harold. 

"Why?"  asked  George. 

''  Because  he's  sure  to  come  to  grief." 

"  I  don't  see  why." 

''It's  the  nature  of  the  species.  Why,  look!  Our 
friend  the  cockswain  is  in  trouble  now." 

George's  eyes  followed  the  direction  in  which  Harold's 
finger  was  pointing,  and  s;iw  that  the  cockswain  had  got 
into  an  altercation  with  three  men  not  more  than  half 
a  block  aw:iy.  The  warfare  of  words  lasted  only  a  few 
seconds,  and  then  one  of  the  three  men  aimed  a  blow 
at  the  sailor,  who  instantly  began  to  lay  about  him  most 
vigorously  . 

"Come  on!"  cried  George,  breaking  into  a  run,  "  or 
he'll  be  murdered.'' 

"We  may  miss  our  train,  and  not  get  to  Norfolk  in 
time, "exclaimed  Harold;  "  but  we  mustn't  stand  by  and 
see  a  Jacky  beaten  this  way.'' 

The  two  boys  went  down  the  street  at  a  swinging  trot, 
taking  care  not  to  wind  themselves,  and  to  husband  their 


strength  for  the  en- 
counter which  lliey  felt 
must  now  take  place. 

"Stop  that!"  cried 
Harold,  as  he  and 
George  came  up  to  the 
struggling  men. 

A  fierce  reply  was  ut- 
tered by  one  of  the 
cockswain's  assailants, 
who  at  once  made  a  des- 
perate lunge  with  his 
right  fist  at  Harold.  The 
boy  sprang  aside,  and 
countered  on  the  ruf- 
fian's jaw  with  unpleas- 
ant force. 

"That's  it!"  cried  Pe- 
ter Morris,  the  cock- 
swain; "let  him  have 
it  broadside  fur  broad- 
side. I  kin  sink  this 
'ere  slob,  if  you  gentle- 
men '11  ram  the  others." 
Harold  and  George 
engaged  the  attention  of 
the  other  two  assail- 
ants, and  for  a  few  min- 
utes the  battle  waged 
hotly.  Both  boys  bad 
their  blood  up,  and  they 
were  making  good  use 
of  scientific  boxing 
learned  at  Annapolis. 
The  roughs  who  had  as- 
saulted the  sailor  were 
beginning  to  show  signs 
of  distress,  and  the 
cocksvyain  cried  exult- 
ingly: 

"Strike  yer  colors, 
ye  slobs!  Don't  ye 
know  when  you're 
licked?" 

"  Hit  'irn  with  yer  brass  knuckle,  Jimmy!"  cried  one  of 
the  fellows. 

"  No,  you  don't!"  exclaimed  George,  driving  his  right 
fist  into  the  man's  face. 

"Cops!"  cried  another  of  the  men. 

At  that  very  moment,  when  victory  seemed  to  be  cer- 
tain for  our  young  friends,  two  policemen  came  running 
up,  and  before  the  boys  and  the  sailor  could  recover  from 
their  amazement  one  of  the  roughs  had  made  a  complaint 
against  them,  and  they  found  themselves  under  arrest 
and  marched  off  to  the  police  station. 

"  Waal, "exclaimed  Peter  Morris,  "as  my  mother  used 
to  say  when  she  were  a-mashin'  pertaters,  'This  are  sim- 
ply crushin'.' " 

At  the  station  one  of  the  roughs  told  a  remarkable  story 
of  how  the  sailor  had  tried  to  snatch  his  watch,  and  how 
the  two  young  men  had  come  up  and  joined  in  the  assault 
on  them  when  the}-  tried  to  defend  themselves.  As  for 
Peter  he  was  so  astounded  that  he  told  a  miserably  bung- 
liner  story  of  the  real  act — an  attempt  to  snatch  his 
pocket-book  which  he  had  incautiously  exposed — and  the 
sergeant  on  duty  said  the  seaman  was  drunk,  and  ordered 
all  three  of  them  to  be  locked  up  for  the  night  on  a  gen- 
eral charge  of  assault  and  battery. 

"But  we  shall  miss  our  ship!" exclaimed  Harold. 
"Miss  your  ship!     You    never  saw   a  ship. "said   the 
sergeant,  contemptuously.      "Take  them  down   and  lock 
them  in." 

[TO    BK    CONTINUED.] 


NOVEMBER  13,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


25 


THE    DRAWING    LESSOX.— ENGRAVED  BY  C.  BAUDE,  AFTER  A  PAINTING  BY  C.  W.  BITTE. 


26 


HARPER'S  YOUNG   PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


THE   SONG   OF   THE   ANVIL. 

LISTEN  to  the  .anvil's  clang- 
In  the  gray  old  blacksmith  shop! 
What  a  clear  and  bell-like  ring, 
What  an  even   steady  swing! 
How  it  never  seems  to  step  - 
Thirang ! — thwaiig ! — tkicang  ! 

Beating  out  the  sparks  of  lire ; 
Forging  iron  shoe  and  tire; 
Hammering  the  rosy  steel 
Till  it  fits  the  shaft  or  wheel; 
Ringing  out  so  cheerily, 
Like  a  laugh  of  honest  glee. 
Sweeter  music  never  rang — 

ThwaiHj  .' — iliwaiig  ! — t/tir«n</.' 

Seeins  that  cheery  sound  to  say : 
"Earnest  work  is  happy,  ay! 
Let  the  task  be  what  it  may, 
Do  it  promptly,  do  it  well, 
For  to-morrow  as  to-day, 
And  heart's  joy  shall  in  you  swell! 
lie  who  makes  an  holiest  tliiug 
Hears  the  spirit  iu  him  sing. 
Nolle  so  happy,  heart  and  mind, 
As  the  man  who  serves  his  kind. 
Not  a  task  so  humbly  planned. 
But  to  do  it  well  is  grand." 
So  tin;  blacks;;. ith's  anvil  sings, 
While  the  hammer  on   ir   rings  — 
Sings,  I  take  it,  not  untrue. 
Though  it  only  shape  a  shoe! 
Well,  if  in  its  sturdy  clang 
We  can  find  a  lesson  too — 
How  to  make  life's  anvil  peal 
With  the  gladness  that  v>  e  feel, 
Like  the  blacksmith's  honest   steel — 
Thwani/ .' — ,'/i iru»</ .' — tliiciiiiij  .' 

JAMES  BUCKHAM. 


PRIVATE    THEATRICALS,   AND    HOW 
TO    GET   THEM    UP. 

BY     EDWARD     FALES     COWARD. 


I.— THE    STAGE    IN    THE    PARLOR. 

V\7ITH  the  wonderful  growth  of  popular  interest  in 
V  i  dramatic  matters,  there  is  hardly  a  town  or  hamlet 
in  the  United  States  that  does  not  boast  of  its  opera-house 
or  theatre.  No  place  is  too  small  to  attract  some  travel- 
ling show  during  each  season,  and,  as  a  consequence, 
almost  every  citizen  of  this  great  republic  has  at  some 
time,  either  directly  or  indirectly,  had  brought  home  to 
him  the  glare,  glitter,  and  fascination  that  belong  to  the 
mimic  world  of  behind  the  scenes. 

How  many  boys  and  girls  have  seen  a  theatrical  repre- 
sentation, and  not  longed  to  act  it  over  again  among  them- 
selves? How  many  have  riot  longed  to  give  a  play,  an 
original  play,  with  all  the  paraphernalia  of  a  real  theatre, 
with  curtain,  foot-lights,  and  scenery?  The  purpose  of 
this  article  is  to  tell  the  readers  of  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEO- 
PLE how  they  may  erect  a  well-appointed  play-house  at 
the  least  possible  cost,  and  how,  to  their  parents'  peace  of 
mind,  a  stage  and  accessories  may  be  put  up  in  a  private 
house  without  injuring  walls  or  ceilings.  In  a  subse- 
quent article  the  work  of  preparing,  rehearsing,  and  pro- 
ducing a  play  will  also  be  explained  in  detail,  and  then 
the  plays  published  in  coming  numbers  can  be  under- 
taken by  our  readers. 

In  most  private  houses,  the  parlor,  in  point  of  size  and 
con veuience,  especially  if  the  outside  public  isjto  be  in- 
vited, makes  the  best  room  for  conversion  into  a  theatre. 


GROUND    1'LAN    OF    STAGE. 


or  a  large  garret,  if  tliere  is  sufficient  head  room,  may 
also  be  used.  Precaution  should  be  taken  in  selecting  a 
place  for  a  stage  to  see  that  behind  it  there  is  some  method 
of  access  with  other  parts  of  the  house,  that  the  ordinary 
living-rooms  may  be  made  available  for  dressing-rooms, 
property-rooms,  make-up-rooms,  etc. 

A  raised  stage  is  very  desirable,  even  though  it  en- 
tails additional  cost.  It  will  not  only  add  material- 
ly to  the  comfort  of  the  spectators,  but  will  conduce 
very  much  to  the  players'  effects.  A  simple  way  to  erect 
a  solid  platform,  that  will  do  away  with  horses  and  ex- 
pensive cross  supports,  ,,  c|^-c|irop 

which  would  need   the  aid  — 

of  a  practical  carpenter,  is 
to  utilize  starch,  soap,  or 
canned-goods  boxes  of  a 
similar  size.  Taking  it  for 
granted  that  the  width  of 
the  average  room  at  the 

disposal  of  the  actors  is  18  feet,  get,  say,  15  soap-boxes, 
and  place  5  of  them  end  to  end  in  three  rows,  thus:  Along 
the  side  of  each  section  of  boxes  nail  a  strip  of  wood  to 
keep  the  three  separate  rows  in  place.  Place  the  two 
outside  rows  about  three  inches  from  the  baseboard  on 
either  side  of  the  room.  Then  take  hemlock  boards  (they 
are  the  cheapest),  and  saw  them  in  lengths  two  inches 
shorter  than  the  width  of  the  room.  Lay  them  at  right 
angles  over  the  box  supports,  and  fix  them  to  the  same. 
Screws  are  to  be  preferred,  as  the  stage  can  then  easily 
be  taken  up  and  put  down  again.  Following  out  these 
instructions,  a  stage  free  from  spring  should  be  the  result. 
The  cost  would  be:  15  boxes  at  5  cents.  75  cents;  3  pieces 
of  strip,  25  cents;  225  feet  of  hemlock,  $4  50;  screws,  25 
cents.  Total.  s.~>  75. 

Singe  clothes  are  a  very  desirable  adjunct.  If  possible, 
the  boards  should  be  covered  with  a  green  or  brown 
cloth,  the  thicker  the  better,  in  order  to  deaden  the  sound 
of  feet  on  the  wood.  These  colors  are  preferable  because 
they  represent  either  the  earth  or  the  greensward.  For 
an  interior  they  make  a  good  ground-work,  on  which 
may  be  placed  rugs  of  varying  size. 

The  most  important  and  at  the  same  time  most  difficult 
parts  of  a  theatre  for  an  amateur  to  build  are  the  frame- 
work of  the  proscenium  and  the  outline  of  the  stage  by 
which  the  scenery  is  supported.  The  proscenium  is  the 
covered  front  of  the  stage  which,  with  the  curtain,  shuts 
off  the  mysteries  behind  from  the  spectators  in  front. 

Against  the  boxes  at  either  side  of  the  room,  about  a 
foot  or  eighteen  inches  from  the  edge  of  the  same,  nail 
or  screw  uprights  two  inches  wide  by  an  inch  thick. 
These  uprights  should  reach  to  within  an  inch  of  the 
ceiling.  Take  then  a  piece  of  wood,  just  short  of  the 
width  of  the  room,  and  covering  it  with  something  soft, 
like  Canton  flannel,  stretch  it  across  the  ceiling  of  the 
room,  driving  the  ends  over  the  uprights,  making  a  close 
joint.  Two  similar  uprights  two  feet  from  the  side 
edges  of  the  stage  should  then  be  placed  in  position. 
Brace  them  to  the  stage,  and  have  them  of  a  length  that 
when  bent  under  the  cross-piece  stretching  across  the 
ceiling  they  will  be  firm.  Braces  as  shown  in  the  ac- 
companying diagram  should  be  used  to  impart  the  neces- 
sary solidity  to  a  structure  which  must  bear  the  weight 
of  the  curtain. 

If  the  stage  is  eighteen  feet  deep,  nine  feet  from  its  outer 
edge  (the  foot-lights)  erect  similar  uprights  on  the  out- 
side, with  a  cross-piece  running  the  width  of  the  room, 
covered,  as  before,  with  Canton  flannel.  At  the  extreme 
rear  of  the  stage  this  arrangement  should  again  be  re- 
peated, stays  or  braces  being  used  to  give  it  additional 
strength.  The  three  uprights  on  either  side  of  the  stage 
should  then  be  braced  by  a  board  two  inches  wide  and 
au  inch  thick,  running  the  full  depth  of  the  stage.  By 
following  out  these  instructions  the  entire  stao-e  will 


NOVEMBER  13,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


lli  us  lie  outlined  by  a  light  but  firm  frame- 
work, capable  of  standing  such  strain  as 
may  be  put  upon  it  by  scenery,  draperies, 
changings.  It  is  almost  impossible  to 
stretcb  wires  or  ropes  from  wall  to  wall 
and  get  a  satisfactory  result.  They  are 
sure  to  sag,  and  will  present  a  most  un- 
businesslike effect.  The  method  proposed, 
of  course,  entails  work  and  some  carpenter- 
ing skill,  but  really  half  the  fun  of  ama- 
teur theatricals  is  in  devising  effective 
substitutes  for  the  conveniences  to  be 
found  in  an  ordinarily  well-appointed  the- 
atre. 

The  proscenium  must  now  be  covered 
and  the  curtain  hung.  If  any  one  in  the 
household  has  an  artistic  bent,  the  decora- 
tion of  this  part  of  the  theatre  will  give 
his  fancy  an  excellent  outlet.  The  mate- 
rial used  to  cover  this  outer  frame  should 
be  as  light  as  possible.  If  the  stuff  is  to  be 
painted,  white  unbleached  muslin  — or  cot- 
ton cloth,  as  it  is  sometimes  called — is  recommended. 


This 


should  first  be  sized,  and  water-colors  used.  If  there  is 
110  artistic  talent  to  draw  upon,  something  like  Canton 
flannel  may  be  used ;  the  artistic  colors  it  now  comes  in 
make  it  possible  to  produce  with  a  curtain  of  a  different 
shade  some  very  pleasing  effects.  If  possible,  a  curve 
effect  should  be  given  to  the  cloth  which  stretches  across 
the  opening. 

The  curtain  once  sewed  together  in  perpendicular 
strips,  brass  rings  should  be  sewed  in  (live  lines  equi- 
distant every  six  inches  from  top  to  bottom).  The  top  of 
the  curtain  should  then  be  securely  attached  to  the  cross- 
piece  of  wood  run n ing1  the  width  of  the  room,  and  attached 
to  the  bottom  should  be-  a  piece  of  batten  (a  stick  of  wood 
or  gas-pipe).  This  batten  should  be  wider  than  the  pro- 
scenium opening,  so  as  to  prevent  the  curtain  from  get- 
ting out  of  place. 

Calling  the  left  hand  side  of  the  stage  as  you  face  the 
audience  the  prompt -side — that  is,  the  place  where  the 
man  who  prompts  and  runs  the  curtain  stands — strong 
white  cord  is  attached  to  the  extreme  right  end  of  the 
batten.  It  is  then  passed  up  through  the  little  brass 
rings  sewed  to  the  curtain,  and  through  large  screw- 
eyes  attached  to  the  cross-piece  of  the  proscenium  arch. 
At  the  left  end  of  this  cross-piece  should  be  a  large  screw- 
eye,  through  which  the  cord  descends  to  the  curtain-man's 
hand.  Another  cord  should  then  be  similarly  attached 
to  the  batten  at  the  foot  of  the  next  row  of  brass  ring*. 
and  so  on  through  the  screw-eyes  at  the  top  down  to  the 
curtain-man.  Similar  cords  should  then  be  fixed  wher- 
ever there  is  a  row  of  brass  rings.  The  ends  of  the  vari- 
ous cords  should  then  be  tied  together,  leaving  plenty  of 
slack  to  twist  around  a  cleat  on  the  prompt-side,  that  they 
may  be  made  fast  when  the  curtain  is  up.  By  this  ar- 
rangement the  cords,  when  pulled,  will  draw  the  curtain 
up  in  a  satisfactory  manner;  but  the  man  working  them 


THE    BOXES    PREPARED    FOR    THE    STAGE. 


FltAME    Full    PltOSCKNIBM. 

should  see  that  the  cords  retain  their  relative  positions, 
otherwise  the  curtain  might  not  fold  evenly. 

The  proper  arrangement  of  lights  is  absolutely  indis- 
pensable for  artistic  effects.  It  is  most  desirable  that  it 
should  be  thrown  upon  the  faces.  It  shows  -off  the 
expression  better.  Light  from  above  is  apt  to  cast 
shadows.  If  there  is  gas  in  the  house,  and  the  connec- 
tion can  be  easily  made,  it  is  most  suitable  for  foot-light 
uses.  The  fact  that  it  can  be  controlled  makes  it  doubly 
advantageous.  In  this  way  effects  of  nature  can  be 
simulated,  and  entrances  of  characters  upon  darkened 
scenes  with  lighted  lamps  or  caudles  made  entirely  real- 
istic. 

In  arranging  the  foot-lights  every  care  should  be  taken 
to  provide  against  danger  from  fire.  Have  the  board 
which  covers  the  supports  of  your  stage  from  the  eyes  of 
those  in  front  reach  about  four  inches  above  the  stage. 
Line  the  inside  of  this  elevation  above  the  stage  with  tin, 
and  have  the  tin  extend  over  the  stage  its  full  width, 
about  eight  inches,  to  the  rear.  This  will  not  only  pro- 
tect the  wood-work  thereabouts,  but  will  act  as  a  reflector 
as  well.  In  proportion  to  your  other  expenses  your  foot- 
lights and  accessories  will  probably  cost  you  quite  a  little 
sum,  but  the  outlay  will  be  warranted  by  the  results  you 
will  obtain  from  having  a  practical  plant.  Go  to  a 
plumber,  and  get  him  to  take  a  piece  of  regulation-size 
gas-pipe,  cut  it  off  the  width  of  your  proscenium  opening, 
and  close  one  end.  Then  at  intervals  of  eighteen  inches 
have  him  bore  holes  in  it.  inserting  in  each  hole  an  ordi- 
nary gas  plug.  It  will  not  pay  you  to  have  too  many  of 
these  jets,  because  as  you  will  get  your  gas  supply  from 
one  ordinary  burner,  there  will  not  be  force  enough  to 
give  you  very  many  flames  of  any  considerable  size.  Set 
this  pipe  on  the  tin,  and  fix  it  firmly  by  means  of  hasps 
and  small  wooden  blocks,  so  that  there  is  no  danger  of 
its  toppling  over.  To  the  open  end  of  the  pipe  affix  a 
rubber  tubing,  tying  tightly  the  joint,  that  there  may  be 
no  leakage,  and  have  the  pipe  run  to  the  nearest  side  «  a  1 1 
gas-bracket,  first  removing  the  tip  of  the  same,  that  the 
gas  may  have  as  free  a  flow  as  is  possible.  See  to  it  that 
the  tubing  passes  to  the  bracket  in  a  way  that  will  pre- 
vent its  being  stepped  upon,  otherwise  your  lights  will 
be  extinguished,  and,  very  probably,  your  efforts  as  well. 
The  ordinary  stop-cock  on  the  bracket  will  thus  enable 
you  to  regulate  the  amount  of  light  you  wish  to  throw 
upon  the  performers  and  the  scene.  If  it  is  not  possible 
to  surround  each  foot-light  with  a  little  bulbous  wire 
screen,  stretch  some  wire  netting,  such  as  is  used  on  hen- 
coops, from  the  top  of  the  piece  of  wood  which  screens 
the  light  from  the  eyes  of  the  audience  to  the  rear  of  the 
tin  sheathing. 


28 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


Wi'dtK    of  St 


3  fecf 


THK     BACK     DROP. 

If  a  gas  connection  is  impossible,  lamps  may  be  substi- 
tuted at  regular  intervals,  or  candles.  If  the  latter  are 
used,  those  of  paraffine  that  come  sixteen  to  the  pound 
should  be  utilized.  Of  course  neither  of  these  methods 
will  permit  you  t^get  graduated  effects  of  light. 

Scenery  is  the  next  important  element  to  be  considered. 
With  that  arranged  for,  your  theatre  will  then  be  ready 
for  practical  use. 

The  usual  piece  adapted  for  amateur  representation  lias 
its  action  take  place  in-doors.  Many  a  good  play  lias  to  be 
abandoned  by  beginners  because  it  is  impossible  for  them 
to  rig  up  anything  that  will  pass  current  for  a  wood, 
landscape,  or  seascape,  as  a  view  of  the  coast  is  called. 
The  selection  of  a  play  which  will  lend  itself  readily  to 
mounting  by  amateurs  will  be  treated  more  fully  in  a 
subsequent  article.  As  a  general  proposition  it  may  be 
stated  that  for  a  beginning,  anyway,  a  piece  had  better 
be  selected  which  calls  for  an  in-door  scene. 

If  extreme  simplicity  is  desired,  the  use  of  a  back-drop 
and  wings  is  recommended.  If  there  is  to  be  more  than 
one  play,  both  requiring  interiors,  it  is  more  desirable  to 
use  the  same  background — much  time  will  be  thereby 
saved — and  etfect  the  changes  by  the  use  of  different 
hangings,  furniture,  and  bric-a-brac. 

The  back-drop  had  better  be  made  on  a  frame  in  two 
pieces,  covered  with  unbleached  muslin — cotton  cloth.  A 
serviceable  arrangement  would  be  to  make  this  frame- 
work on  the  outline  shown  in  the  diagram. 

(a.)  Open  space  for  window.     (6.)  Open  space  for  door. 


THE     COMPLETED     PROSCENIUM     WITH     FOOTLIGHTS. 


The  material  used  should  be  (if  possible)  pine-wood 
strips,  two  inches  wide,  and  one  inch  thick.  The  joints 
and  corners  must  of  course  be  carefully  squared  to  make 
a  good  fit.  The  frame  should  then  be  covered  with  the 
cotton  cloth,  and  if  the  interior  to  be  used  is  to  represent 
a  drawing-room  or  bedroom,  no  better  method  can  be 
devised  than  to  cover  tins  surface  with  some  appropriate 
wall-paper.  For  the  door  and  the  window  separate 
frame -work  will  of  course  have  to  be  made.  Paint- 
ing these  to  represent  the  real  articles  will  require  a 
study  of  originals.  For  the  wings,  for  the  average 
depth  of  stage  in  a  private  house,  two  on  either  side  will 
be  sufficient.  They  should  be  made  of  the  same  material 
as  the  back  frame,  and  should  be  similarly  covered.  To 
screen  the  sides  they 
should  be  placed  at  an 
angle  to  the  footlights. 

For  a  box  scene  the 
sides  should  be  made  sim- 
ilar to  the  mounted  back 
frame  as  just  described, 
arranging  them  in  the 
matter  of  doors  and  win- 
dows as  the  action  of  the 
average  play  calls  for. 
This  means,  as  a  rule, 
that  there  should  be  at 
least  one  door  on  each 
side.  If  necessary,  a  door 
opening  can  very  readily 
be  converted  into  a  win- 
dow opening  to  the 
ground.  For  modern  in- 
teriors it  is  useless  to  use 
other  than  wall  -  paper, 
and  for  even  mediaeval 
interiors  something  ap- 
propriate in  the  line  can  A  DOOR. 
readily  be  obtained. 

A  kitchen  or  a  garret  can  also  be  made  out  of  wall- 
paper if  the  amateur  scenic  artist  at  hand  finds  himself 
unable  to  cope  with  the  requirements  of  such  a  scene. 

If  a  palace  interior  is  required,  his  utmost  skill  will  be 
demanded.  He  had  better  take  as  a  model  some  picture 
from  a  book.  The  one  freest  from  architectural  ornate- 
ness  is  advised.  The  back  frame  once  covered — as  a  rule, 
the  entrance  in  it  should  be  in  the  centre,  and  have  an 
arch — the  cotton  cloth  should  first  be  sized,  and  then 
allowed  to  dry.  Sizing  is  a  mixture  composed  of  size, 
water.andglue,  and  is  laid  on  with  abroad 
brush  similar  to  that  employed  by  white- 
wasliers.  For  coloring  purposes  dry  wa- 
ter-colors must  be  used. 

As  before  stated,  many  a  clever  little 
play  is  barred  from  an  amateur's  reper- 
toire because  an  interior  scene  represent- 
ing a  garden  or  wood  is  required.  To 
paint  Nature  in  her  original  mood  is  a 
severe  task  for  any  amateur  artist.  It  is 
now  possible  to  buy  such  scenes  printed 
on  separate  sheets  of  paper,  which  can  be 
pasted  like  wall-paper  on  some  covered 
frame.  A  garden  15  feet  wide  by  8  feet 
high,  with  wings  and  borders  complete, 
will  cost  $7  50.  One  20  by  11^  will  cost 
S10.  Wood  scenes  in  similar  sizes  cost 
the  same. 

This  practically  completes  the  work- 
ing outfit  of  an  amateur  theatre.  How 
to  get  a  play  ready  for  presentation,  and 
how  to  run  the  stage  on  the  night  of  a 
performance,  will  be  described  in  a  suc- 
ceeding paper. 


NOVEMBER  13,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


29 


A   GARRISON    ON    THE    TOPS    OF    THE   ALPS. 


T^HE  military  situation  in  Europe  has  readied  the 
point  now  where  it  is  considered,  if  not  necessary,  at 
least  advisable,  to  keep  troops  on  the  very  highest  moun- 
tain-tops in  order  to  meet  and  oppose  the  enemy  if  he 
should  choose  that  rather  difficult  approach  to  make  an  in- 
vasion. Both  France  and  Italy  have  regularly  organized 
regiments  of  Alpine  soldiers  who  are  armed,  in  addition 
to  their  rifles  and  revolvers,  with  alpenstocks,  ice-picks, 
and  ropes;  and  these  men  camp  in  summer  and  in  winter 
on  high  peaks  and  glaciers,  watching  the  frontier  to  see 
that  no  unfriendly  move  is  begun  by  their  neighbors. 
In  the  summer-  time  the  Alpine  corps  makes  difficult 
mountain  ascensions,  and  the  engineers  draw  plans  of 
the  surrounding  country,  and  look  for  available  passes 
between  the  higher  peaks.  Many  hundred  men  are  en- 
gaged in  this  work,  so  that  the  ice  and  snow  clad  Alps 
are  almost  as  well  plotted  and  mapped  as  the  plains  and 
fertile  fields  of  the  lowlands. 

But  in  the  autumn,  when  the  weather  begins  to  get 
wintry  and  the  storms  in  the  hig-h  mountains  grow  fiercer, 
the  main  body  of  Alpine  troops  is  recalled  into  the  val- 
leys, and  the  soldiers  go  into  winter-quarters. 

The  mountain  posts,  however,  cannot  be  left  ungar- 
risoned,  and  so  a  certain  number  of  volunteers  are  ap- 
pointed every  year  to  spend  the  long  winter  months  far 
above  human  habitations  and  away  from  all  intercourse 
with  their  fellow-men.  These  posts  are  almost  as  isolated 
as  if  they  were  at  the  north  pole,  and  they  are  pretty 
nearly  as  cold. 

One  of  the  principal  stations  is  on  the  Grande  Turra, 
a  very  high  mountain  which  can  be  found  oil  any 
good  map  of  France  and  Switzerland  near  Mont  Cenis, 
under  which  passes  the  famous  tunnel  of  the  same  name. 
The  barracks  on  the  Grande  Turra  stand  7500  feet  above 
the  sea-level.  The  highest  inhabited  spot  in  this  coun- 
try is  the  signal  station  on  top  of  Pike's  Peak,  and  that 
is  14.147  feet  above  the  sea-level. 

Thirty  Alpine  soldiers,  with  a  lieutenant  and  two  ser- 
geants, make  up  the  garrison  for  these  lonely  barrack's. 
and  they  go  up  into  the  region  of  perpetual  snow  about 
the  middle  of  October.  Their  quarters  are  low  houses 
built  of  stone,  with  very  thick  walls.  The  houses  are 
grouped  about  a  small  court,  with  the  officer's  house  op- 
posite the  entrance,  and  the  men's  quarters  and  the 
store-house  on  either  side.  A  little  to  the  rear  is  a  snug 
stable,  where  a  few  mules,  which  do  heavy  work  for  the 
soldiers,  are  kept,  and  with  them  half  a  dozen  goats  that 
are  depended  upon  to  furnish  the  garrison  with  milk. 

The  nearest  village  is  several  miles  away,  and  consists 
of  only  a  few  shepherds'  huts.  But  at  the  hamlet  of 
Lanslebourg  there  are  some  more  of  the  Alpine  troops, 
and  they  form  a  supply  and  aid  station  for  the  iso- 


*  VE^JS^.M^ra 


' 


DRAGGING    WATER    AFTER    A    STORM. 


lated  men  high  up  above  them.  About  once  a  month 
during  the  winter,  if  it  is  possible  for  a  mule  to  struggle 
up  the  icy  trail  to  the  Grande  Turra  post,  fresh  meat  and 
vegetables  and  letters  and  newspapers  are  taken  up  to  the 
garrison.  But  sometimes  such  fierce  wind  and  snow 
storms  rage  around  these  bleak  mountain-sides  that  it  is 
impossible  to  make  way  through  the  drifts  for  weeks  and 
weeks.  During  that  time  the  men  in  the  Grande  Turra 
garrison  eat  canned  provisions,  and  remain  in  their  little 
stone  houses  listening  to  the  wind  and  sleet  howling 
outside. 

The  principal  work  of  the  soldiers  in  the  winter  is  to 
keep  open  the  trail  to  the  valley  below,  and  to  keep 
their  quarters  from  being'  entirely  smothered  under 
by  snowdrifts.  The  labor  of  keeping  the  path  open  is 
the  hardest.  After  every  storm  the  men 
go  out  with  picks  and  shovels,  and  toss 
the  accumulated  snow  aside,  heaping  it  up 
to  the  right  and  to  the  left,  until  the  trail 
actually  seems  to  run  along  the  bottom  of 
a  trench.  At  some  points  the  road  is  so  ex- 
posed to  drifts  and  landslides  that  in  order 
to  protect  it  tunnels  are  built  of  snow  and 
ice  blocks,  or  else  dug  right  through  a  drift. 
Some  of  the  tunnels  are  over  nine  hun- 
dred feet  long,  and  once  built  they  will 
last  all  winter.  They  are  made  high 
enough  and  broad  enough  to  admit  of  the 
passage  of  the  mule  which  carries  up  the 
provisions  from  Lanslebourg. 

Fresh  water  is  obtained  from  a  well  situ- 
ated some  three  hundred  yards  from  the  bar- 
racks, and  is  usually  carried  to  camp  in 
skins  on  muleback.  But  after  a  stoim,  or 


30 


HAKPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


when  the  path  is  so  heavy  that  it  is  impossible  for  the 
mules  to  work,  then  the  men  must  put  a  barrel  on  a 
sled  and  haul  the  water  up  the  icy  mountain-side  them- 
selves. 

Yet  in  spite  of  all  the  loneliness  of  their  situation,  the 
thirty  Alpine  soldiers  manage  to  get  some  fun  out  of  life. 
They  have  books  to  read  and  games  to  play  in-doors,  and 
they  also  have  a  mechanical  piano.  On  fair  days,  when 
it  is  possible  to  go  out,  they  indulge  in  snowball  lights 
and  in  sliding  down  the  steep  hill-sides  near  the  barracks. 
Their  way  of  sliding  is  to  sit  astride  of  a  snow-shovel, 
using  the  handle  as  a  steering  tongue,  and  so  race  with 
one  another  over  all  sorts  of  dangerous  places.  When 
the  weather  appears  to  be  settled  for  a  few  days,  the 
lieutenant  in  command  takes  his  men  out  on  trips  in  the 
neighborhood,  and  observations  are  made  to  find  out 
what  would  be  the  best  routes  for  troops  to  take  in  heavy 
weather  if  the  journey  were  necessary. 

Toward  the  end  of  April  the  snow  begins  to  melt,  and 
the  ice  tunnels  thaw  away.  The  road  is  kept  clear  more 
easily,  and  the  mule  from  Lanslebourg  conies  more  fre- 
quently- A  month  later  the  summer  has  set  in,  and  a 
new  detachment  comes  up  the  mountain  to  relieve  the 
patient  fellows  who  have  passed  nine  months  in  the  great 
solitudes  where  there  were  no  other  living  Creatures  to 
be  heard  or  seen. 


A  NATIONAL  INSECT  FACTORY. 

BY  J.    EDWAKD  JENKS. 

WAS  in  a  bug  factory  the  other  day,"  said  the 
traveller,  as  the  boys  gathered  around  him  after 
supper.  "Yes,  a  real  bug  factory;  a  place  where  they 
make  bugs,"  he  continued,  as  everybody  yelled.  "It 
belonged  to1  the  United  States  government,  but  I  knew 
the  man  who  built  the  establishment,  and  he  let  me  go 
in  and  look  at  the  interesting  little  creatures  who  live 
there.  I  call  it  a.  bug  factory,  but  the  scientists  who  work 
there,  and  who  spend  nearly  all  their  time  there,  give  the 
better-sounding  name  of  insectary.  It  is  located  in  Wash- 
ington, and  is  a  small  but  important  part  of  the  Depart- 
ment of  Agriculture  there.  You  know  that  department 
looks  after  all  matters  in  which  farmers  take  any  inter- 
est. The  official  at  the  head  of  the  Agricultural  Depart- 
ment is  one  of  the  President's  cabinet,  so,  you  see,  the 
office  is  a  great  one.  The  President  is — 

"But  tell  us  about  the  bug  factory,"  begged  one  of  the 
traveller's  nephews. 

"  Well,  the  '  factory '  is  hidden  in  a  large  grove,  raised 
with  much  patience  and  care  by  expert  tree-growers,  and 
is  quite  a  walk  from  the  Capitol,  where  the  laws  are 
made,  and  from  the  large  glaring  white  mansion  where 
the  President  lives.  After  you  have  wandered  about 
some  of  the  big  department,  buildings  in  Washington, 
this  little  place"  of  which  I  will  tell  you  looks  like  a  toy 
dwelling  with  a  long  glass-roofed  L  to  it.  The  main 
building  is  a  cozy  house,  where  the  scientific  books  are 
kept,  and  where  the  scientists  do  their  studying  and  writ- 
ing. The  men  who  are  employed  here  are  called  ento- 
mologists, and  they  make  a  special  study  of  insects. 
There  is  always  something  to  learn  about  the  insects  of 
the  world,  and  hardly  one  matter  is  thought  out  before 
there  is  another  subject  requiring  study. 

"  The  government  insectary  is  used  for  the  cultivation 
and  study  of  inserts  which  prey  upon  plants,  trees,  and 
vegetables.  There  is  a  huge  army  of  these  kinds  of  pests, 
and  they  do  great  damage  to  nature,  besides  putting  men 
to  all  sorts  of  dangers,  trouble,  and  expense.  Sometimes 
an  insect  will  reach  this  country,  no  one  knows  from 
what  place,  and  will  increase  in  numbers  so  that  the 
horde  will  actually  eat  up  vast  fields  of  hardy  corn,  and 
destroy,  almost  while  I  am  telling  you  of  it,  the  work  of 


days.  If  this  sort  of  thing  were  allowed  to  go  unchecked 
we  would  probably  be  eaten  out  of  house  and  home  by 
the  little  creatures  which  you  can  hardly  see  with  a  pow- 
erful microscope. 

"The  scientists  not  only  closely  watch  the  methods  of 
living  of  these  troublesome  insects,  but  they  find  out 
what  will  drive  them  away  or  kill  them.  It  woutd  be  a 
difficult  matter  to  find  out  all  this  if  the  entomologist 
had  to  go  out  into  the  field  and  lie  around  among  the 
plants  and  vegetables.  It  would  be  a  long  and  tiresome 
work  for  him,  and  if  he  were  in  some  parts  of  the  coun- 
try, while  he  was  watching  a  very  small  worm  something 
a  good  deal  larger  than  himself  might  be  waiting  for 
him. 

"This  was  the  reason  that  the  government  built  its 
bug  factory.  It  wanted  to  raise  insects,  see  how  they 
lived,  what  they  ate,  how  they  changed  in  form,  and  find 
out  what  would  finally  destroy  them.  You  can  see  how 
important  all  this  information  would  be  to  a  man  who 
had  every  year  been  bothered  by  insects  he  could  hardly 
see,  and  whose  potatoes  and  strawberries  were  being  eaten 
by  a  hungry  army  which  paid  nothing  for  the  feast. 

"The  long  room  in  which  the  insects  are  kept  is  built 
with  a  roof  of  glass,  lixed  with  shades  so  that  the  amount 
of  light  may  he  regulated.  There  are  two  sections,  one 
heated  to  correspond  to  the  weather  out-of-doors,  and  the 
other  heated  to  any  degree  desired.  Sometimes  it  is 
necessary  to  give  the  occupants  of  this  room  a  greater 
heat  than  the  ordinary  temperature.  One  section  is 
known  as  the  forcing-room,  and  here  are  kept  the  plants 
in  pots,  while  in  the  centre  is  a  bed  of  rich  soil  where 
small  trees  and  shrubbery  are  planted  for  the  study  of 
insects  living  upon  these  forms  of  vegetation.  There  are 
all  sorts  of  things  for  the  rearing  of  bugs,  such  as  cages 
and  jars,  and  there  are  two  large  glass  cases  filled  with 
running  water,  little  cascades,  for  rearing  insects  which 
live  in  the  water;  and  there  is  a  pitch-dark  room,  where 
some  day  they  hope  to  experiment  with  bees. 

"The  insect  is  captured  and  brought  to  the  insectary, 
as  I  shall  have  to  call  it  now,  and  placed  in  a  jar  or  a 
cage,  or  on  a  plant,  where  it  can  grow  and  change  into  its 
various  forms.  Its  way  of  feeding,  of  living  upon  the 
leaf  or  flower  or  vegetable,  is  closely  watched,  and  the  re- 
sult of  its  life  on  the  plant  is  also  taken  notice  of.  Then 
when  the  scientists  have  studied  the  insect  as  long  as  they 
want  to,  when  they  have  found  out  all  the  different 
shapes  he  takes  during  his  life,  and  just  how  long  he  will 
live  if  allowed  to  go  undisturbed,  the  watchers  try  differ- 
ent ways  of  killing  the  bug.  Sometimes  it  is  found 
necessary  to  burn  certain  plants  where  all  the  insects 
will  congregate  at  a  certain  time  in  their  life,  and  some- 
times it  is  found  that  certain  powders  will  kill  the  pests. 

"The  men  who  watch  these  little  creatures  tind  lots 
of  things  to  interest  them,  arid  it  takes  away  the  weari- 
ness of  their  waiting.  They  find  that  marvellous  changes 
often  take  place  in  the  insects.  Some  of  them  alter  their 
form  so  that  you  would  not  recognize  them  for  the  same 
insect.  One  will  at  first  be  a  short  thick  fly,  with  sharp 
eyes,  wings,  and  a  minute  feeler  like  an  elephant's  trunk, 
and  he  will  next  be  a  worm  without  legs  and  no  eyes. 
It  is  always  an  easy  matter  to  find  out  what  the  bug  is 
doing  and  what  will  drive  it  away,  but  it  is  not  always 
so  easy  to  say  where  he  comes  from  or  how  he  happened 
to  appear  in  certain  places.  The  day  I  was  in  the  insect- 
ary I  saw  a  bug'  which  had  been  found  in  California  by 
a  hoy  while  eating  boiled  potatoes,  and  later  his  father 
found  more  potatoes  in  the  cellar,  which  had  been  dug  a 
short  time  before,  also  inhabited  by  this  same  worm.  I 
was  told  that  this  worm  had  come  all  the  way  from 
China,  probably,  nobody  knew  how.  Anyway,  a  mem- 
ber of  the  unwelcome  tribe  had  reached  the  in>e<-tarv.  and 
was  a  guest  there.  He  was  a  famous  bug,  did  he  but 
know  it,  for  he  was  to  be  carefully  watched,  and  his  ev- 


NOVEMBER  13,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


31 


;>Mt: '^\s;*v **§&••'  '  ''{<7\  jMS 


^  "-'     -  •'  •t-SLfJKSSi  A"'  't1.  ^  •F~A*-     •      •        "SSSSS-S^S; 

4-  '  • !  '  (tefef  ^    3^fe'~ 


ery  action  was  to  be 
noted  in  a  book  each 
day.  He  would  receive 
as  much  attention  as 
any  great  man  —  prob- 
ably more  attention,  for 
hardly  any  mail  has 
been  closely  watched 
every  day  of  his  life,  as 
this  Chinese  bug  will 
be. 

"  This  particular  in- 
sect is  capable  of  doing 
great  damage  to  pota- 
toes, and  is  the  more 
dangerous  because  of 
his  secretive  habits.  It 
digs  its  way  through 
the  ground  to  the  pota- 
to, for  which  originally, 
it  appears,  the  worm 
had  no  special  liking. 
It  used  to  live  on  a 
plant  called  flag,  and 
is  supposed  to  have  ac- 
quired a  taste  for  the 
potato  because  flag  was 
used  as  a  covering  for 
potato -houses.  It  also 
lives  upon  tobacco.  So 
you  see  it  has  a  variety 
of  tastes.  There  was 
another  insect  which  I 

saw,  and  which  also  came  from  across  the  continent.  It 
had  travelled  all  the  way  from  Europe,  and  fed  upon  the 
olive-tree.  It  is  a  difficult  insect  to  see  on  the  bark  of  the 
tree,  where  large  masses  of  the  pests  gather.  It  is  cov- 
ered with  wax,  and  one  of  the  forms  it  takes  finds  it 
without  legs  and  without  eyes,  and  a  mouth  so  very 
small  :us  to  be  almost  impossible  to  perceive. 

''There  was  also  a  curious  worm  which  fed  upon  the 
sugar  beet.  It  looks  like  a  small  caterpillar,  and  is  a 
very  industrious  insect.  It  is  not  at  all  sociable  or  friend- 
ly toward  its  fellow-worms,  and  when  two  of  them  met 
they  would  strike  viciously  at  each  other.  After  the 
caterpillars  have  served  a  term  of  life,  they  enter  the 
ground  and  hide  themselves  in  a  little  cave,  which  they 
dig  for  themselves  and  neatly  line  with  silk  of  their  own 
weaving.  Then  they  come  forth  with  wings,  and  each 
takes  a  mate.  They  lay  eggs,  and  a  new  generation  is 
started. 

"  Then  they  showed  me  other  minute  creatures,  called 
weevils,  which  actually  find  room  to  live  comfortably  in 
a  pea  or  beau.  The  weevils  are  hatched  from  very  small 
eggs,  and  each  one  has  six  legs.  Some  of  them  are  great 
miners,  and  dig  through  the  pod  and  into  the  pea  or 
bean,  where  they  remain  hid,  and  at  last  come  forth  com- 
pletely changed,  looking  this  time  like  a  small  beetle,  and 
able  to  fly,  where  once  they  could  scarcely  crawl. 

"  While  the  insectary  rears  the  dangerous  insects,  it 
also  cultivates  their  enemy,  known  as  the  parasite.  This 
creature  lives  off  of  the  greater  pest,  and  when  a  beetle 
or  bug  of  some  kind  is  found  to  have  a  liking  for  such  a 
pest  as  this  Chinese  worm  of  which  I  have  told  you,  the 
parasite  becomes  useful  to  man,  and  large  numbers  of 
them  are  raised  and  sent  to  the  places  where  the  trouble- 
some insects  are  eating  the  plants,  berries,  and  vegetables. 
Last  year  in  New  Zealand  that  country  was  overrun  with 
an  insect,  and  our  bug  factory  sent  a  little  destroyer  to 
that  country  which  drove  out  the  dangerous  pest,  and 
the  people  were  so  grateful  that  they  held  a  public  meet- 
ing and  thanked  this  government  for  its  good  deed. 

"  So  you  see  our  government  does  not  forget  the  small 


THE    INSKCTARY. 


matters  which   have  an  effect  on  our  daily  life,  and   it 
looks  after  the  health  of  other  nations  as-well  as  its  own." 
And  then  the  boys  all  trooped  to  bed  to  dream  of  winged 
caterpillars  which  live  in  the  water. 


CHANGELINGS. 

THE  ghosts  of  flowers  went  sailing 
Through  the  dreamy  autumn  air — 
The  gossamer  wings  of  the  milkweed  brown, 
And  the  sheeny  silk  of  the  thistle-down, 
But  there  was  no  bewailing, 
And  uever  a  hiut  of  despair. 

From  the  mountain-ash  was  swinging 

A  gray  deserted  nest ; 
Scarlet  berries  where  eggs  had  been, 
Softly  the  flower-wraiths  floated  in. 

And  tin.'  brook  and  breeze  were  singing 

When  the  sun  sank  down   in   the  west. 

MARY  TIIATCIIEU  HJGGIXSON. 


GIVING    HIM    A    CHANCE. 

PERSONS  who  are  envious  of  those  whom  they  are  pleased  to 
call  the  fortunate  rarely  count  the  cost  of  success.  Apro- 
pos of  this,  an  amusing  story  is  told  of  General  Lefevre,  DnK'1  "t 
Dantzic.  One  day  the  (leneral  had  a  visit  from  a  friend  of  his 
youth,  who  commented,  nut  without  feelings  of  envy,  on  the 
dignities  and  riches  which  the  IJukc  (who  was  born  in  a  peas- 
ant's cottage)  had  acquired  in  many  battles,  and  by  his  faithful 
services. 

"Oh!  I  am  prepared,"  was  the  rejoinder,  "to  hand  them  over 
to  you  at  the  very  price  I  paid  for  them.  We  will  procei 
gether  into  my  garden.  There  yon  shall  walk  up  and  down  for 
the  space  of  half  an  hour  while  I  command  a.  company  of  iufautrj 
to  lire  on  yon — there  were  more  in  my  case,  but  you  shall  have 
the  benefit  of  altered  circumstances.  It'  yon  are  not  shot  in 
thirty  minutes  all  that  is  mine  shall  be  yours." 


32 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


,JI- 
Jfe 

fit:  -^  i»    I  . 


**, 


-    ;"  v.4**1    .  -" 
y    «• 


"  WllV,   YOU   NAUGHTY    OH1I.DRKN,   WHAT   HAVK   YOU    BICEN    IXUNG  ?" 
"  WB     WKUK    1'LAYIN'    ROBBERS,  AN'    I     HAD    TO    COME     TllKOUtilJ     1>E 
F1RKPLAOB." 


DESK. 

•'  llo\v  do  you 


OVERHEARD  IN  BOBBIE'S 

HULLO,  Reader!"  said  the  Spelliug-Book. 
feel  this  morning?" 

"Pretty  poorly,  thank  you.  Bobbie  is  a  nice  boy,  but  he 
hasn't  much  regard  for  me.  He's  taken  ten  of  my  pages  and 
dogeared  them  so  that  I  almost  find  myself  barking." 

"I'm  mad  at  Bobbie,"  said  the  Spelliug-Book.  "He  told  a 
story  about  me  yesterday.  The  teacher  asked  him  how  to  spell 
lion,  and  he  said  I-y-o-u,  and  when  the  teacher  said  it  was  1-i-o-n, 
'lie  told  her  that  1  spelled  it  with  a  y,  which  I  don't." 

"He   did   something   like   that   with    me."  said    the   Reader. 
"I've  got  a  story  iu  me  about  George  Washington,  and  iu  oue 
place    I   say, 'Nowhere    do  we    find   a   more  noble    figure, '  and 
Bobbie  said  I  said, 'Now  here 
do  we   find  a    nobby   figure.' 
It's  absurd  to  say  I  said  that." 

"Didn't  his  teacher  keep 
him  in  for  it  ?"  asked  the 
Spelliug-Book 

"  No  ;  she  got  laughing,  and 
then  Bobbie  laughed,  and  ev- 
erybody else  laughed.  As  for 
me,  I  was  simply  mortified  to 
death,"  said  the  Reader. 

"He's  a  queer  boy,"  put  in 
the  Arithmetic.  "I've  tried 
to  teach  him  lots,  but  he's  un- 
grateful. Why,  what  do  you 
suppose  he  told  his  uncle  last 
week  f" 

"  I  haven't  an  idea,"  said  the 
Reader. 

"  Nor  I,"  said  the  Spelling- 
Book. 

"  Why,  his  uncle — you  know 
his  uncle  George — one  of  those 
funny  uncles  that  laugh  when 
they  say  things,"  said  the  Arith- 
metic. "  lie  asked  Bobbie 
how  he  liked  the  multiplica- 
tion table,  and  Bobbie  said  he 
preferred  the  dinner  table." 

"How  dreadful!"  said  the 
Reader. 


"Yes,"  said  the  Arithmetic.  "  Yoii  don't  learn  anything  at 
the  dinner  table." 

"That's  what  his  uncle  George  said,"  put  in  the  Arithmetic, 
"but  Bobbie  said  he'd  learned  lots  there.  Said  he'd  learned 
how  to  subtract  four  cookies  from  one  cake  basket,  and  added 
that  while  in  real  arithmetic  four  taken  from  oue  leaves  uo- 
"thiug,  in  dinner-table  arithmetic  you  could  subtract  four  cookies 
from  a  cake  basket  and  have  the  basket  left,  which  be  thought 
was  much  pleasauter.  Then  his  uncle  asked  him  it'  he  liked 
division,  and  he  said  he'd  never  studied  arithmetic  division,  but 
when  he  bad  to  divide  an  apple  with  two  sisters  he  hadn't  much 
use  for  it." 

"What  a  dreadfully  stupid  boy!"  said  the  Spelliug-Book. 
"There's  nothing  sharp  about  him." 

"Except  his  teeth, "moaned  the  Pencil.  "  He's  all  the  time 
putting  me  in  his  mouth  and  biting  my  head,  and  I  tell  you  it 
hurts." 

"Think  of  me!"  said  the  Slate-Pencil.  "When  he  uses  me  on 
the  slate  he  pushes  me  down  so  hard  that  he  just  uses  me  up  in 
no  time." 

"I  suppose  that's  why  you  squeak  so,"  said  the  Reader.  "I 
wish  you  wouldn't.  Your  squeaking  mixes  me  np  so  that  e\en 
Bobbie  can't  tell  me  from  his  copy-book,  which  is  why  all  my 
blank  leaves  are  marked  all  over  with  all  sorts  of  absurd 
figures." 

"Will,!  don't  squeak  because  I  like  it,"  said  the  Slate-Peneil. 
"But  listen — there  goes  the  bell.  We'll  have  to  be  quiet  now." 

And  they  all  arranged  themselves  neatly  iu  their  accustomed 
places,  and  it  wasn't  until  it  came  to  the  arithmetic  hour  that 
the  Slate  realized  that  while  they  were  talking  tie  Sponge  had 
forgotten  to  wash  his  face  for  him. 


THE  TONIES-DANISH  FOLKLORE. 

THE    BUCKET    IN    THE     WELL. 

THE  bucket  had  fallen  into  the  well  of  one  of  the  touies. 
For  a  long  time  he  and  his  neighbors  discussed,  without 
coming  to  any  conclusion,  how  they. should  get  it  out  again; 
and  finally  hit  upon  the  following  plan.  They  laid  a  pole  acrosa 
the  well,  ami  agreed  that  one  of  their  number  should  hold  fast 
to  it  with  his  hands,  that  another  should  hang  to  this  one's  fuel, 
aud  so  on,  until  the  last  was  able  to  reach  the  bucket,  lint  just 
as  they  were  all  ready,  and  the  one  at  the  bottom  was  about  to 
catch  hold  of  the  bucket,  the  hands  of  the  oue  at  the  top  began 
to  hurt  him  tremendously.  He  called  out  to  the  others,  "Wait 
just  a  minute  till  I  spit  on  my  hands!"  Then  he  let  go  to  spit- 
on  his  hands,  and — plump  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  well  they 
all  went,  and  were  all  drowned. 


On  the  far-away  banks  of  the  Nile 
A  little   black  boy   used   to  smile  ; 
"  Now  who  can  beat  me 
At  a  real   smile?"  said  he. 
"  Can't  I  ?"  said  a 


large 


crocodile. 


HARPERS 


m 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


iJ  x- 


Copj-right,  1894,  by  HARPKC  &  BROTHERS.     All  Rights  Reserved. 


PUBLISHED    WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI.— NO.  786. 


NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY.  NOVEMBER  20,    1894. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO   DOLLARS  A    YEAR. 


THE     SCRUB     QUARTER=BACK. 

BY    JESSE     LYNCH     WILLIAMS. 

T1OMMY  WORMSEY  was  a  meek  little  boy    with  an  weren't  mates  and  li:id  holes  in  them.    When  lie  skimmed 

ugly  face,  mostly  covered  with  court-plaster,  and  he  over  the  ground  and  dived  through  the  air  and  brought 

would  rather  fall  on  a  football  than  eat.  down   a   two-hundred  and-something-pound  guard,    with 

When  he  came  trotting  out  upon  the  field,  the  college  his    knotty   little   anus    barely  reaching    about   the    big 

along  the  side  lilies  always  smiled  at  the  way  he  tipped  thighs,  it  looked  very   absurd,  and   when   he  jumped   up 

his   head   to   one  side   with   his  eyes  on   the  ground,  as  again,  yelling  "3 — 9 — 64''  in  his  shrill  earnest  voice,  and 

though  he  was  ashamed  of  himself  and  of  his  funny  little  ran  sniffling  back  to  his  place,  with  his  sorrowful  face  seem 

bumpy  body,  stuck  into  a  torn  suit  and  stockings  which  ing  to  say,  "  I  know  I  oughtn't  to  have  let  him  slide  so  far, 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME    XVI 


but  please  don't  scold  me  this  time,"  the  crowd  laughed 
uproariously,  which  hurt  his  feelings. 

But  he  paid  very  little  attention,  to  anything  except 
the  scrub  captain's  orders  and  the  admonitions  of  the 
coachers,  to  whom  he  said,  "Yes,  sir,"  and  "I'll  try  it 
that  way,  sir."  He  was  afraid  of  them,  and  looked  down 
at  his  torn  stockings  when  they  spoke  to  him.  Those  of 
the  crowd  along  the  ropes  who  knew  everything,  as  well 
as  the  other  spectators  who  only  knew  a  few  things,  said 
that  Freshman  Wormsey  had  more  sporty  blood  and 
football  instinct  than  any  man  on  the  lield.  But  they 
did  not  know  what  a  coward  he  was  at  heart. 

More  than  once  when  a  'varsity  guard  had  broken 
through  and  jumped  on  him,  and  the  scrub  halves  had 
fallen  on  him  from  the  other  direction  to  keep  him  from 
being  shoved  back,  and  the  other  'varsity  guard  and  the 
centre,  who  were  not  light,  had  thrown  themselves  upon 
these,  and  one  of  the  ends  had  swung  round  and  jumped 
on  the  top  of  the  pile  on  general  principles.  Wormsey,  at 
the  bottom,  said  "  ouch  !"  under  his  breath,  if  be  had  any. 
He  weighed  137  pounds  stripped. 

And  at  night,  after  the  trick  practice  with  checkers  :it 
the  Athletic  Club,  he  always  hurried  back  to  his  room, 
and  stacked  the  pillows  and  sofa  cushions  up  in  the 
•corner  of  the  room,  with  the  black  one  in  the  centre,  and 
taking  his  place  on  one  knee  in  the  opposite  corner, 
socked  the  ball  into  the  pile.  Every  time  he  missed  the 
black  one  in  the  centre  he  called  himself  names. 

Sometimes  when  he  did  this  he  became  excited,  and 
sprang  forward  and  knocked  down  chairs  and  tables  and 
things.  But  he  paid  no  attention  to  that.  He  only  grit- 
ted his  teeth  and  fell  to  passing  again,  and  kept  it  up 
sometimes  until  eleven  o'clock,  which  was  a  whole  hour 
later  than  he  had  any  business  to  be  out  of  bed. 

But  there  were  days  when  it  became  tiresome,  this  con- 
stant pound,  pound,  pound,  fall  down,  get  up  and  pound 
again,  and  once  in  a  while  there  came  dark  -times  when 
he  felt  that  it  all  didn't  pay,  which  was  very  unpatriotic 
thinking;  and  the  next  day,  when  the  crowd  yelled,  "Well 
tackled,  Wormsey!"  he  wondered  how  he  could  have  been 
such  a  mucker  as  to  think  it.  But  it  was  rather  hard 
work  for  a  seventeen-year-old  boy  whose  bones  weren't 
knit  to  play  two  thirty-minute  halves  every  day  as  hard 
as  they  were  doing  now,  and  then  practise  place  kicks 
and  catching  punts  afterwards,  besides  keeping  hold  of  all 
the  signals  and  systems  and  stuff  that  were  drummed  into 
his  little  head  every  evening,  along  with  the  rest  of  the 
second  eleven,  in  the  room  across  the  hall  from  the  one 
where  the  'varsity  were  learning  their  systems  and  sig- 
nals and  tricks. 

It'sall  well  enough  for  them.  They  have  their  'varsity 
sweaters  with  the  big  letter  on  them,  and  have  their  pic- 
tures printed  in  the  papers,  and  are  pointed  out  and 
praised  and  petted  and  fondled  and  fussed  over  like  blue- 
ribboned  hunters  at  the  horse  show;  but  for  the  pour 
faithful  unappreciated  scrub  it's  a  different  story.  There's 
none  of  the  glory,  and  all  work  and  grind  and  strain  at 
the  top  notch  of  capacity.  And  nothing  at  the  end  of  it 
but  thanks  and  the  consciousness  of  doing  one's  duty  by 
the  college.  So  about  this  time,  when  they  were  ap- 
proaching that  critical  stage  in  training  which  is  like 
getting  one's  second  wind  in  a  cross-country  run,  he  used 
to  have  some  terrible  times  with  himself.  If  any  one 
knew  what  muckerishly  cowardly  thoughts  he  had,  he 
was  afraid  they'd  fire  him  from  college. 

He  was  ashamed  of  himself,  but  he  couldn't  help  it.  He 
was  getting  sick  of  training,  sick  of  getting  up  at  seven 
o'clock  in  the  morning  and  hurrying  down  to  breakfast 
while  the  alarm  clocks  were  going  off  in  East  and  West 
colleges,  and  the  frost  was  still  on  the  grass.  Every  day, 
as  soon  as  the  morning  recitations  were  over,  no  matter 
what  kind  of  weather,  he  must  jump  into  the  buss  at  the 
corner  of  Dickinson  Hall,  drive  down  to  the  grounds,  un- 


dress and  dress  again,  and  hobble  out  upon  the  field,  and 
get  his  poor  little  body  bumped  and  pounded  and  kicked 
and  trampled  on,  and  the  rest  of  his  personality  yelled  at 
by  the  captain,  and  scolded  by  the  coachers,  who  stand 
alongside  in  nicely  creased  trousers,  with  canes  in  their 
hands,  and  call  out,  "Line  up  more  quickly,  scrub," 
which  is  hard  to  do\when  one's  lungs  are  breathless,  es- 
pecially when  one  is  a  quarter-back,  and  needs  a  certain 
amount  of  wind  to  scream  out  the  signals  in  a  loud 
enough  tone  to  keep  from  being  blamed.  And  that's  the 
way  they  make  football  stuff. 

To-day  lie  let  Hartshorn  drag  him  five  yards  and 
missed  one  tackle  outright,  and  he  was  discouraged. 
After  the  line-up,  while  thev  were  practising  him  at 
catching  punts,  he  seemed  to  have  such  bad  luck  hold- 
ing the  ball;  and  once,  in  trying  for  a  wild  one  when  he 
had  run  over  by  the  cinder  track,  grunting  and  strain- 
ing, anil  had  put  up  his  little  arms,  only  to  feel  the 
ball  bounce  off  his  chest,  he  gnashed  his  teeth  so  loud 
and  said  "  Oh,  dear!"  in  such  a  plaintive  whimper,  like  a 
child  waking  from  a  bad  dream,  that  two  pipe-smoking 
Seniors,  who  were  trooping  out  in  the  rear  of  the  crowd, 
smiled  audibly  and  said  something  about  him.  He  could 
not  hear  what  it  was.  He  only  heard  them  laugh,  and 
it  nearly  broke  his  heart.  But  all  that  he  could  do  was 
to  call  them  things  under  his  breath,  and  run  sniffling 
back  to  his  place  again. 

The  trouble  with  the  boy  was  he  had  worked  so  hard 
and  worried  so  much  that  he  was  overtrained,  and  so, 
naturally,  there  was  not  much  ginger  left  in  him.  And 
the  reason  the  keen -eyed  trainer  did  not  see  this  and 
lay  him  off  for  a  few  days  was  that  Wormsey  thought 
it  his  duty  to  make  up  in  nerve  what  he  lacked  in  gin- 
ger; and  he  was  too  bashful  to  tell  any  one  how  ditli 
cult  it  was  to  make  himself  play  hard,  and  how  that  he 
no  longer  felt  springy  when  he  jumped  out  of  bed  in  the 
morning,  and  that  he  slept  all  the  afternoon  after  prac- 
tice, instead  of  studying,  as  all  football  men  should. 

He  went  into  the  field-house  the  next  day,  unbutton- 
ing his  coat  and  hating  football.  He  hated  the  dress- 
ing-room. He  was  sick  of  training,  sick  of  rare  beef 
and  bandages  and  rub-downs,  and  the  captain's  admoni- 
tions and  the  coacher's  scoldings.  He  thought  he  would 
give  anything  not  to  be  obliged  to  play  that  day.  He 
was  sore  all  over,  and  his  ear  would  be  torn  open  again, 
and  he  didn't  like  having  the  blood  trickle  down  his 
neck;  it  felt  so  sticky. 

It  was  a  hot,  lazy,  Indian-summer  day.  and  his  muscles 
felt  exhausted.  He  felt  as  much  like  exerting  them,  as 
one  feels  like  studying  in  spring  term  directly  after  din- 
ner, when  the  Seniors  are  singing  on  the  steps.  As  he 
caine  hobbling  out  of  the  field-house  he  laced  his  little 
jacket,  and  made  up  his  mind  that  after  the  practice  he 
would  tell  the  captain  that  he  could  not  spare  the  time 
from  his  studies  to  play  football,  patriotism  or  no  patriot- 
ism. This  was  not  necessary,  because  he  was  tumbled 
over  in  the  opening  play,  and  remained  upon  the  ground 
even  after  the  captain  cried  ''  Line  up  quickly,"  with  his 
ugly  little  face  doubled  up  in  a  knot. 

"There  goes  another  back,'' said  the  scrub  captain, 
pettishly,  snapping  his  fingers.  "Rice,  you  play  quarter; 
and,  Richardson,  you  come  play  half  in  Rice's  place." 

Another  sub  and  William,  the  negro  rubber,  picked 
\Vornisi-y  up.  the  doctor  following  behind,  and  turning 
back  to  see  the  play,  which  had  already  begun  again,  for 
he  wanted  to  see  how  the  new  system  was  working. 

As  they  approached  the  field-house  he  saw  the  two  fel- 
lows who  had  laughed  at  him  the  day  before  standing 
apart  down  at  the  end  of  the  field.  One  of  them  was 
tapping  his  pipe  against  the  heel  of  his  shoe,  and  saying, 
"  I  didn't  know  that  that  little  fellow  could  be  hurl.  He 
always  -  But  just  then  the  'varsity  full-back  made  a 
"twister"  punt,  and  he  interrupted  himself  with  an  ex- 


NOVEMBER  20,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


35 


clamation  about  that.  It  sounded  like  a  reproach  to 
Wonnsey,  and  he  began  to  feel  that  he  had  somehow 
gotten  hurt  with  malice  aforethought.  And  this  made 
him  so  ashamed  that  when  they  reached  the  field-house 
the  trainer,  sponging  his  face,  said,  encouragingly:  "That's 
all  right,  me  boy.  Don't  feel  badly.  You'll  be  out  again 
in  a  couple  of  weeks.  I've  been  meaning  to  lay  you  off 
for  a  while,  anyway.  I'll  tell  you  for  why;  you're  a  lit 
tie  stale,  Tommy,  a  little  stale." 

Everyday  now  Wormsey  trudged  down  to  the  field  on 
crutches — they  had  to  be  sawed  off  at  the  bottom  first — 
and  watched  the  practice  from  a  pile  of  blankets  on  the 
side-lines.  It  was  a  fine  thing,  he  told  himself,  to  watch 
the  others  do  all  the  work  while  he  sat  still  with  four 
'varsity  sweaters  tied  about  his  neck.  This  was  a  great 
snap;  he  was  still  on  the  scrub,  was  at  the  training  table, 
and  would  have  his  picture  taken, would  go  to  the  Thanks- 
giving game  free,  and  yet  did  not  have  to  get  pounded 
and  pummelled. 

He  was  made  a  good  deal  of  now.  The  coachers  pat- 
ted him  on  the  back  and  said  "My  boy"  to  him.  He 
had  a  lot  of  sympathetic  adulation  from  admiring  class- 
mates. Upper  classmen  whom  he  had  never  seen  before, 
but  who  somehow  knew  him,  came  up  and  said,  "  How's 
the  leg,  Tommy !"  At  which  lie  hung  his  head  and  snif- 
fled, and  said,  "Getting  along  pretty  well,  thank  you," 
and  then  grinned,  because  he  didn't  know  whether  they 
were  guying  him  or  not. 

In  a  few  days  he  could  walk  with  a  cane,  and  he  put 
on  liis  football  clothes  because  they  were  more  comfort- 
able. He  limped  after  the  teams  up  and  down  the  field, 
and  squatted  down  to  see  how  the  'varsity  made  their 
openings,  and  he  learned  how  to  tell,  by  the  expression 
of  his  legs,  on  which  side  the  quarter  was  going  to  pass 
the  ball,  which  nobody  else  in  the  world  could  tell.  Also, 
by  carelessly  daily  sauntering  into  the  cage  during  the 
preliminary  practising,  with  a  guileless  smile  on  his  face, 
he  found  out  the  'varsity  signals,  which  lie  had  no  busi- 
ness to  find  out. 

Sometimes  he  became  very  much  excited  during  the 
scrimmages,  and  once,  when  Dandridge,  the  wriggly  'var- 
sity half-back,  kept  on  squirming  and  gaining  after  he  had 
been  twice  downed,  Wormsey  screamed,  as  he  hopped  up 
and  down  on  one  foot,  "  Oh,  grab — grab  him!  Ph'iixi' 
grab  him!  Oh!  oh!"  so  loud  that  all  the  field  heard  it 
and  laughed  at  him.  When  lie  realized  what  a  fool  he 
had  made  of  himself  he  kicked  himself  with  his  good  leg, 
and  then  limped  slowly  up  the  field  to  study  the  next  play. 

But  conceited  as  it  was,  lie  really  thought  that  he 
would  have  stopped  that  runner  if  he  had  been  there. 
He  imagined  just  how  it  would  feel  to  have  once  more 
the  thrill  of  a  clean  tackle,  sailing  through  the  air,  and 
locking  his  arms  tight,  and  squeezing  hard,  and  both  roll- 
ing over  and  over,  while  the  crowd  yelled  in  the  distance. 
And  lie  thought  it  would  be  fine  to  get  out  there  again, 
and  run  his  hands  through  his  hair,  and  call  out  the  sig- 
nals, and  plunge  the  ball  home  into  the  back's  stomach, 
and  then  pitch  forward,  and  push  and  strain  and  sweat 
and  fall  down  and  get  up  again.  He  had  a  firm  healthy 
skin  now,  and  had  gone  up  to  the  tremendous  weight  of 
138i,  which  was  vulgar  obesity. 

One  windy  sunny  day  when  Wormsey  was  limping 
friskily  up  and  down  the  field  with  his  hair  blowing  about, 
Stump,  the  'varsity  quarter,  instead  of  springing  up  to 
his  place  after  one  of  the  tandem  plays,  as  he  should  have 
done,  lay  still  on  the  ground,  while  the  college  held  its 
breath. 

"It's  Stump!'  it's  Stump!"  they  whispered  to  one  an- 
other with  scared  faces.  Then  they  no  longer  held  their 
breaths.  They  moaned,  and  stamped  their  heels  in  the 
frosty  ground,  and  gazed  out  sadly  toward  the  dear  frow- 
zy head  of  the  man  who  was  being  carried  to  the  field- 
house. 


"It's  only  a  wrench,"  said  the  doctor.  "He'll  be  out 
in  a  few  days." 

The  captain's  mouth  grew  a  little  more  stern,  but  he 
only  snapped  his  fingers,  and  said:  "Bristol!  No,  he's 
laid  off  too.  Wait  a  moment,  doctor,"  he  called  out. 
"Is  Wormsey  well  enough  to  play;" 

"Wormsey?"  said  Tommy  to  himself  in  little  gasps. 
"  Why,  I'm  Wormsey.  What!  play  with  the  'varsity  !" 

And  the  doctor's  voice  came  back  through  the  wind, 
"No,  I  think  not." 

"Oh  yes,  I  am!"  yelled  the  shrill  voice,  which  was 
heard  all  up  and  down  both  sides  of  the  field,  and  readi- 
ed to  the  Athletic  Club;  and  throwing  away  his  cane. 
and  bending  over  to  let  some  one  pull  off  two  sweaters, 
Wormsey  ran  sniffling  out  on  the  field. 

"See,  Jack,"  he  called  to  the  trainer,  "I  don't  limp  a 
bit."  But  he  kept  his  face  tunied  to  one  side  so  that  the 
trainer  couldn't  see  it  twitch. 

"Come  here  and  I'll  give  you  the  signals,  Wormsey," 
said  the  captain. 

"  I  know  them  already,"  said  Wormsey,  looking- 
ashamed  of  himself;  and  then  he  took  his  place  on  one 
knee  behind  the  centre  who  had  so  often  tumbled  upon 
him. 

Then  he  jumped  in  and  showed  everybody  what  he  had 
been  learning  during  the  past  ten  days.  He  was  in  per- 
fect condition  now,  except  for  the  ankle,  which  he  forgot 
about.  He  was  quite  accurate  in  his  quick  method  of 
passing,  and  he  tackled  ravenously.  Fellows  like  Wonn- 
sey never  get  soft.  "Just  watch  that  boy  follow  the 
ball,"  exclaimed  one  of  the  coachers  to  another.  "Too 
bad  he's  so  light,"  said  the  other. 

Once  when  the  scrub  had  the  ball  they  gave  the  signal 
for  a  trick  which  they  had  been  saving  up  as  a  surprise 
for  the  'varsity.  Tommy  knew  that  signal.  He  dashed 
through  the  line  between  tackle  and  end,  he  caught  the 
long  pass  on  the  fly,  and  having  plenty  of  wind  and  a 
clear  field,  he  made  a  touch-down  unassisted,  which  made 
the  crowd  yell  and  applaud.  Of  course  it  was  a  great 
fluke,  and  Wormsey  knew  that,  but  all  the  same,  while  the 
crowd  gave  a  cheer  for  Tommy  Wormsey,  and  a  three- 
times-three  for  "  the  little  scrub,"he  grinned  fora  moment, 
and  puckered  up  his  eyes.  But  it  is  not  the  crowd  thatt 
chooses  the  team. 

That  evening  at  dinner  all  the  college  was  talking 
about  the  great  tear  the  little  Freshman  had  made,  and 
down  at  the  Athletic  Club  Wormsey  overheard  one  of  the 
roarhers  say:  "  When  Stump  comes  out  again,  it'll  make 
him  work  to  see  the  Freshman  putting  up  a  game  like 
that.  But  of  course  he  can't  keep  it  up.  The  pace  is  too 
fast." 

Wormsey  sniffled  and  had  his  own  opinion  about  that. 
But  whatever  it  might  have  been  was  never  learned,  be- 
cause the  next  day  he  was  taken  off  the  field  for  the 
season.  His  bad  ankle  was  sprained  in  the  first  half, 
which  served  him  right  for  disobeying  the  doctor's 
order.  But  he  should  not  have  cared.  Didn't  he  play 
one  whole  day  on  the  'varsity? 

At  one  point  during  the  Thanksgiving  game  of  the 
following  year  a  singular  tackle  was  made  by  the  quarter- 
back. He  jumped  up  over  the  opposing  side's  iuter- 
ferers  to  reach  the  man  with  the  ball.  It  was  a  des- 
perate chance,  but  it  was  necessary,  because  there  was  no 
one  between  them  and  the  goal-line.  It  saved  a  touch 
down.  As  he  lay  there  panting  and  hugging  the  blue 
jersey  under  him,  he  became  aware  for  the  first  time  since 
the  game  began  of  the  shouting  and  cheering  of  thou- 
sands and  thousands  of  people  over  there  in  the  stands. 
And  all  at  once  it  came  over  him  that  they  were  cheering 
for  him,  and  for  a  moment  he  grinned  an  ugly  little 
grin.  Then  he  remembered  what  a  coward  he  had  once 
been,  and  jumped  up,  calling  out,  "3 — 9 — 04." 


EARLY     DAYS    OF    SUCCESSFUL    MEN. 


THE    ARM  Y— G  ENERAL    MILES. 

]!V     CAPTAIN    C.  A.   CURTIS,  U.S.A. 


GENERAL   N.  A.  MILES,  U.S.A. 

MANY  an  American  boy  with  a  military  ambition  has 
asked  himself,  "How  can  I  become  an  officer  in  the 
army?"  To  be  told  that  "  where  there  is  a  will  there  is  a 
way  "  affords  him  little  encouragement.  In  a  country 
of  seventy  millions  of  peo- 
ple, with  an  army  of  bare- 
ly twenty -five  thousand 
men,  and  with  two  thou- 
sand one  hundred  and  fif- 
ty -  nine  commissioned  of- 
ficers of  all  grades,  line 
and  staff,  the  chances  for 
securing  a  commission  are 
slight  indeed. 

The  writer  proposes  to 
show  in  the  following  col- 
umns how  a  New  Eng- 
land farmer's  boy,  Nelson 
A.  Miles,  got  into  the  army, 
and  ultimately  placed  him- 
self in  the  list  of  the  most 
distinguished  American 
generals. 

The  father  of  the  Gen- 
eral was  born  at  Peter- 
sham, Massachusetts,  but 
moved  in  early  manhood 
to  \Vestminster,  in  the 
.same  State,  where  he  en- 
gaged in  farming  and  the 
lumber  business.  The  son 
says  of  his  father:  "My 
f.-ither's  character  was 
fine.  He  was  possessed  of 
many  sterling  qualities. 
I  never  knew  a  man 
whose  promises  and  word 


were  held  more  sacred.  In  all  business  transactions  he 
was  the  soul  of  honor.  He  heartily  despised  a  h^ypocrite. 
In  all  his  thoughts  and  acts  he  was  thoroughly  indepen- 
dent." 

Of  his  mother  the  General  says:  "She  was  an  intense- 
ly pious  and  Christian  woman.  She  was  more  earnest  in 
that  respect  than  any  person  I  ever  knew.  Her  two  chief 
ambitious  were  to  set  her  children  a  good  example  and 
give  them  good  educations.  If  prayer  has  any  efficacy,  I 
must  have  received  its  full  benefit,  for  I  was  earnestly 
prayed  for  during  childhood  and  manhood,  through  peace 
and  war." 

The  General  has  been  "a  man  on  horseback"  since  hi& 
earliest  recollection.  He  first  sat  a  horse  in  front  of  his 
father,  afterwards  behind  him,  and  later  alone,  clinging 
to  the  mane.  He  was  given  the  care  of  a  horse,  and  rode 
and  managed  him,  at  the  age  of  six. 

"I  lived  as  a  farm  boy, "said  the  General,  "the  happi- 
est days  of  my  life.  I  think  such  a  life  laid  the  founda- 
tion for  my  healthful  constitution,  its  simplicity  and 
purity  having  a  great  influence  upon  my  after-success — 
greater  than-  anything  else.  It  taught  me  habits  of  in- 
dustry and  economy,  and  its  freedom  and  independence 
caused  me  to  acquire  the  habit  of  thinking  for  myself. 
The  exercise  of  farm  life  gave  strength  and  courage." 

In  boyhood  he  attended  a  district  school  three  and  a 
quarter  miles  from  his  home,  carrying  his  noon  lunch 
with  him.  In  winter  at  recess  and  the  noon  intermission 
he  joined  his  schoolmates  in  storming  and  defending  forts 
of  snow,  or  took  part  in  field  operations.  He  usually 
skated  and  coasted  two  or  three  hours  daily.  In  sum- 
mer he  worked  on  the  farm,  but  found  many  opportuni- 
ties to  amuse  himself,  rambling  through  the  forests  and 
fields,  swimming  and  diving  in  the  streams,  and  in  the 
numberless  ways  familiar  to  the  healthy  and  adventur- 
ous boy.  When  he  grew  older  he  went  to  an  academy 


GENERAL    MILES    IN    HIS    TENT    DURING    THE    RECENT    CHICAGO    RIOTS. 


CAVALRY    BEING    REVIEWED    BY    GENERAL    MILES    AFTER    THE    BATTLE    OF    WOUNDED    KNEE. 


iii  a  neighboring  town,  riding  his  horse  to  and  from 
school. 

He  had  few  companions  near  his  home,  for  it  was  a 
farming  region  and  sparsely  settled.  His  only  brother, 
twelve  years  older  than  himself,  left  home  early,  and  his 
two  sisters  being  much  older,  Nelson  was  left  much  to 
himself.  He  continued  to  ramble  through  the  adjacent 
country,  carrying  his  explorations  farther  than  before, 
often  taking  along  a  well-trained  dog  and  a  shot-gun,  for 
he  was  a  natural  sportsman,  and  was  fairly  skilled  in 
setting  snares,  trapping,  gunning,  and  fishing. 

On  Saturdays  and  other  holidays  the  school-boys  fre- 
quently met  by  appointment  at  the  home  of  one  of  their 
number.  They  formed  themselves  into  bands  and  clans, 
and  drilled  or  carried  on  miniature  warfare.  They  re- 
enacted  scenes  of  the  Indian  and  Revolutionary  wars. 
The  leaders  drew  lots  to  settle  who  should  be  the  "  Brit- 
ish." the  "  Injins,"  or  the  '"Mericans." 

Nelson  Miles  frequently  led  one  band.  They  made  ex- 
peditions through  the  open  and  wooded  country.  Some- 
times imagining  themselves  roving  Indians,  they  built 
wigwams,  and  sometimes  as  pioneer  settlers  they  built 
log  huts.  They  laid  ambuscades,  attacked  strongholds, 
captured  parties,  and  did  many  other  adventurous  things. 
Their  costumes  were  gathered  from  the  farm-house  gar- 
rets, and  consisted  of  Colonial,  Continental,  1812,  and 
train-band  uniforms — formerly  common  in  old  New  Eng- 
land families — and  imitations  of  the  dress  of  the  Nar- 
ragansett  and  Iroquois  Indians.  The  weapons  were  old 
flint-lock  muskets,  shot-guns,  rusty  swords,  tomahawks, 
and  bows  and  arrows. 

It  is  easy  to  infer  that  the  Miles  boy  had  military  as- 
pirations, and  that  the  promise  of  an  appointment  to 
West  Point  when  he  should  be  of  the  required  age 
would  have  been  hailed  by  him  with  delight.  But  a 
farmer's  boy  without  relatives  or  friends  with  political 
influence  had  no  hope  of  such  an  appointment  in  those 
days,  when  cadetships  went  by  favor,  and  not  by  competi- 
tive examination.  Had  some  seer  predicted  that  he  would 
become  a  Major-General  of  the  army  without  ever  seeing 


the  military  academy,  he  would  have  smiled  at  the  proph- 
ecy as  idle  and  visionary.  At  the  age  of  sixteen  he 
went  to  Boston  to  learn  to  be  a  merchant. 

With  the  aid  of  a  few  of  his  fellow  commercial  appren- 
tices Miles  formed  a  military  company  in  Boston,  and 
engaged  an  old  French  soldier  named  Selignac  to  drill 
them.  Tbe  organization  was  private,  having  no  con- 
nection with  the  State  militia;  but  it  was  a  success,  and 
soon  swelled  into  a  battalion.  Selignac  was  a  thorough 
soldier  and  an  excellent  instructor,  particularly  in  the 
duties  of  officers. 

When  the  civil  war  broke  out  many  of  these  patriotic 
young  men  were  qualified  to  take  command  of  troops. 
Miles  had  been  five  years  in  the  business  house,  and  had 
saved  one  thousand  dollars,  which  he  had  deposited  in  a 
savings-bank.  He  drew  out  all  but  one  dollar,  borrowed 
two  thousand  five  hundred  more,  and  spent  the  whole  in 
raising  and  fitting  out  a  company  of  volunteers. 

The  members  of  the  company  promptly  elected  him 
Captain,  and  the  Governor  of  Massachusetts  commis- 
sioned him  to  that  grade.  But  visiting  the  camp  one 
day,  and  seeing  for  the  first  time  the  tall  handsome 
stripling  of  twenty-one,  his  Excellency  pronounced  him 
too  young,  and  recalling  the  appointment,  recommis 
sioned  him  First  Lieutenant,  September  4,  1861.  A  wiser 
Governor,  or  one  blessed  with  a  keener  perception  of 
character,  less  than  nine  months  afterward  commission- 
ed him  Lieutenant-Colonel  of  the  Sixty-first  New  York 
Infantry,  and  four  months  later  advanced  him  to  full 
Colonel. 

From  the  moment  Miles  reached  the  front  he  was  en- 
gaged in  active  hostilities.  In  every  battle  of  importance 
in  which  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  was  engaged  during 
the  Peninsular  campaign  he  took  an  active  part,  up  to 
and  including  Antietam.  And  in  all  the  following  bat- 
tles of  that  army,  except  one,  until  Lee's  surrender  at 
Appornattox  Court  House,  he  bore  an  honorable  and  dis- 
tinguished part.  He  rendered  distinguished  services  at 
Fair  Oaks,  Malvern  Hill.  Fredericksburg.  Chancellors- 
vine,  Wilderness,  Spottsylvania,  Reams  Station,  and 


38 


HAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


Richmond.  He  was  three  times  wounded,  and  at-  the 
battle  of  Chancellorsville  was  borne  from  the  field  with 
what  was  thought  to  be  a  mortal  wound.  Fortunately 
for  his  rapid  advancement  and  military  success,  and  more 
fortunately  for  the  country,  none  of  these  wounds  kept 
him  long  from  the  field. 

The  General's  division  belonged  to  a  famous  fighting- 
corps,  where  opportunities  for  gallant  and  daring  service 
were  frequent.  Possessed  of  fine  administrative  powers, 
personal  bravery,  leadership,  and  a  good  knowledge  of 
tactics  and  war  as  a  science,  intuitive  and  acquired,  the 
young  General  came  prominently  forward  in  all  the 
battles  in  which  the  corps  was  engaged. 

He  commanded  the  largest  division  in  the  army,  and 
at  one  time,  when  but  twenty-five  years  of  age,  was  in 
command  of  the  celebrated  Second  Army  Corps,  number- 
ing twenty-live  thousand  men. 

He  was  commissioned  Brigadier-General  of  Volunteers 
May  12,  1864,  "for  distinguished  services  during  the  re- 
cent battles  of  Old  Wilderness  and  Spottsylvania  Court 
House,  Virginia,"  and  three  months  later  was  brevetted 
Major -General  of  Volunteers  "  for  highly  meritorious 
and  distinguished  conduct  throughout  the  campaign, 
and  particularly  for  gallantry  and  valuable  services  in 
the  battle  of  Reams  Station,  Virginia."  Similar  brevets 
were  given  him  after  he  entered  the  regular  army — that 
of  Brigadier -General  March  2,  1867,  "for  gallant  and 
meritorious  services  in  the  battle  of  Chancellorsville, 
Virginia,"  and  that  of  Major-General,  same  date,  for  sim- 
ilar services  at  Spottsylvania. 

In  1866,  after  the  close  of  the  war,  the  regular  army 
was  increased  by  the  addition  of  several  new  regiments. 
The  vacancies  in  them  were  by  law  "original."  They 
were  filled  by  officers  from  the  old  regiments  and  from 
the  volunteers.  General  Miles  was  commissioned  Colo- 
nel of  the  Fortieth  Infantry,  and  in  1869  was  transferred 
to  the  Fifth  Infantry. 

His  services  since  have  been  scarcely  less  distinguished 
than  during  the  war.  In  1880  he  was  promoted  Briga- 
dier-General, and  in  1890  Major-General.  He  is  now  the 
second  in  the  list  of  general  officers,  and  by  the  la\vs  of 
retirement  became  second  in  command  of  the  army  on 
November  10th,  with  a  prospect  of  becoming  the  com- 
manding General  in  1895.  On  Saturday  the  10th  he  was 
transferred  to  Governors  Island,  New  York  City. 

In  the  Indian  country  General  Miles's  services  have 
been  of  great  value;  the  remarkable  success  of  his  cam- 
paigns has  been  unequalled  in  the  history  of  Indian 
warfare.  His  command  has  been  varied,  and  has  ex- 
tended over  a  great  expanse  of  country.  He  has  done 
much  to  open  up  for  civilization  vast  sections  of  the  great 
West,  and  has  possessed  the  confidence  of  the  settler  and 
the  Indian  alike,  for  both  respect  his  sincerity  of  purpose, 
as  well  as  admire  his  firmness  and  bravery. 

In  1878  he  intercepted  and  captured  Elk  Horn  and  his 
band  of  red  handed  murderers  011  the  edge  of  the  Yellow 
Stone  Park.  In  1886  he  accomplished  what  seemed  to 
be  a  wellnigh  impossible  task — the  subjug-atioii  of  the 
Apache  chiefs  Geronimo  and  Natchez  and  their  bands 
which  had  made  a  large  portion  of  the  Southwest  unin- 
habitable, and  thus  restored  peace  and  prosperity  to  Ari- 
zona and  New  Mexico. 

For  his  services  against  the  Indians  General  Miles  re- 
ceived the  thanks  of  the  Legislatures  of  Kansas,  Montana, 
New  Mexico,  and  Arizona,  and  was  presented  with  a  sword 
of  honor  at  Tucson,  Arizona,  in  1887. 

General  Miles's  last,  great  service  in  Indian  affairs  was 
rendered  in  connection  with  the  recent  troubles  in  the 
Dakotas,  where  he  undoubtedly  saved  the  country  from 
the  most  serious  trouble  that  has  threatened  it  in  many 
years.  By  his  firmness,  his  thorough  knowledge  of  the 
Indian  character,  and  by  so  disposing  his  troops  as  to 
effectually  shut  the  Indians  off  from  the  settlements,  and 


so  cut  off  their  supplies  and  chances  of  escape,  he  forced 
several  thousands  of  the  most  warlike  bands  to  return 
to  their  reservations.  For  these  services  the  General  re- 
ceived the  thanks  of  the  Legislature  of  North  Dakota. 

His  eminent  services  in  the  late  railway  strike  in  Chi- 
cago are  too  recent  to  be  more  than  referred  to.  The 
country  felt  great  confidence  in  the  man  upon  whom  de- 
volved the  duty  of  protecting  its  inter-State  commerce 
and  mail  service,  a  man  who  from  September  4.  1861, 
until  the  present  time  had  always  proved  himself  worthy 
of  its  confidence,  and  believed  its  interests  safe  in  his 
hands.  Always  prudent,  self-reliant,  and  humane  in  try- 
ing circumstances,  he  made  no  mistakes,  and  showed  that 
he  would  have  been  equal  to  graver  emergencies. 

In  closing  it  will  be  well,  perhaps,  to  remind  the  boy 
readers  of  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  particularly  those  who  may 
be  cadets  at  the  numerous  academies  and  schools  of  our 
country  in  which  military  drill  is  taught,  that  although 
it  may  never  be  their  fortune  to  attend  the  National 
Academy  at  West  Point  and  become  officers  of  the  reg- 
ular army,  a  careful  and  earnest  attention  to  military 
instruction  will  fit  them  to  serve  the  republic  in  time 
of  serious  need,  and  possibly  to  win  laurels  similar  to 
those  gathered  by  many  farmers'  boys,  mechanics,  clerks, 
students,  and  young  professional  men  in  our  late  war. 
Certainly  General  Miles's  career  proves  that  the  way  is 
open  in  time  of  war  to  the  temperate,  studious,  ambitious, 
patriotic,  and  level-headed  boy  to  attain  a  high  command 
in  our  country's  army,  and  win  the  confidence  and  respect 
of  its  people. 


FALES'S    OSHIA. 

BY      EVA     WILDER      M  c  C  I.  A  S  S  O  N. 
CHAPTER    III. 

OACHEL!"  breathed  the  Eldress,  in  an  extremity  of 

_1\  surprise. 

"  Oh,  Eldress,"  bleated  Rachel,  dropping  her  shoes, 
"  it's  me!" 

"  I  see  that  it  is,"  said  the  Eldress,  going  down  the 
stairs.  "  Will  you  tell  me  what  you  are  doing  here  at 
this  time  of  night?"  She  had  spoken  with  great  stern- 
ness; but  she  felt  herself  relenting  when  Rachel,  hiding 
her  face  in  her  hands,  began  to  cry  in  a  plaintive  under- 
tone. 

"I  can't  tell,"  she  whimpered.  "She'd  think  it  was 
mean.  But,  oh,  Eldress!  I'm  afraid  it  ain't  safe  for  her 
to  go —  Oh,  I  didn't  mean  to  say  that!  I — I  don't  know 
what  I'm  talking  about." 

"  Oshia  is  at  the  bottom  of  this,"  signified  the  Eldress, 
rather  wrathfully.  "  She  lias  gone  somewhere  ?  I  com- 
mand you  to  tell  me.  Has  she  gone  away  for  good? 
And  if  so — 

"Nay,  Eldress,  not  for  good!  Nay!  It's  only  to 
Baileys.'  She  told  me  all  about  it  to-night  after  Lena 
went  to  sleep.  Bailey's  boy — we  met  him  in  the  'pike — 
told  her  that  dog  of  hers  was  pining  away  on  account  of 
missing  her.  And  she  'lowed  to  run  over  to  see  him. 
She  had  to  tell  me  because  I  woke  up  when  she  was  get- 
ting out  of  bed.  Oh,  I  begged  her  not  to  go,  but  she 
said  her  pappy  set  great  store  by  that  hound.  She  said 
she  could  tell  in  a  minute  if  the  Baileys  were  giving  him 
enough  to  eat.  And — and — 

"Well?" 

"She  let  herself  out  by  the  frontdoor.  And  when  I 
heard  it  shut  I  thought  how  mean  she  must  think  me 
never  to  offer  to  go  'long  with  her.  I  thought  how  awful 
it  'd  be  for  her  to  go  alone  that  long  ways  all  in  the 
dark,  and  I  got  up  and —  Oh,  I  don't  reckon  she's  got 
very  far  yet.  I — " 


NOVEMBER  20,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


39 


"  I  will  send  Brother  Amos  after  her,"  said  the  Eldress. 
"  Go  back  to  bed,  Rachel.  And  stop  crying.  Nay  !  nay  ! 
I  shall  punish  her  in  a  way  she  little  expects;  but  I  will 
not  mention  you,  Rachel." 

She  watched  Rachel  mount  the  stairs.  Then  she  de- 
spatched several  Shaker  men  after  Oshia.  They  came 
back  shortly  with  the  girl.  The  Eldress  opened  the  dour 
of  her  room  for  half  an  inch,  and  surveyed  the  truant. 
But  she  only  said,  "To-morrow  at  ten  I  shall  expect  to 
see  you";  and  motioning  Oshia  toward  her  own  small 
chamber,  the  head  of  West  House  retired  to  a  long-de- 
ferred slumber. 

The  next  morning  the  Eldress  awoke  to  an  unpleasant 
sense  of  the  task  before  her.  And  as  she  lay  thinking 
over  the  best  means  of  dealing  with  Oshia,  it  struck  her 
forcibly  that  to  remove  the  girl  from  her  old  associations 
might  perhaps  be  well.  She  herself  had  exhausted  all 
the  penal  resources  at  her  command  in  the  effort  of  re- 
ducing Oshia  to  the  featureless  state  of  being  which 
seemed  advisable.  Oshia  was  not  perverse  exactly ;  she 
was  only,  as  the  Eldress  phrased  it,  uncivilized.  But  t  he- 
task  of  conforming  the  girl  to  the  standards  of  Shakerism 
was  one  at  which  the  Eldress  felt  no  hope  of  success. 
Others,  however,  might  achieve  better  results. 

"  I  will  send  her  to  the  Shaker  settlement  at  South 
Union,"  said  the  Eldress.  "  It  is  several  hundred  miles 
from  here.  She  will  be  far  away  from  her  old  life,  and 
Deaconess  Maria  Mook  is  good  at  discipline.  I  will  take 
Oshia  there  myself.  They  set  great  store  by  me  in  Union. 
•Maria  Mook's  always  writing  up  to  consult  me  on  family 
management.'' 

Having  settled  this  question,  the  Eldress  went  about 
her  morning  tasks.  She  was  still  checking  off  orders  for 
strawberry  jam  when  a  tremulous  hand  tinkled  at  her 
door. 

"Enter,"  said  the  Eldress,  whereupon  Oshia  entered 
and  stood  mute.  Her  long  apron  and  netted  hair  gave 
her  the  effect  of  a  smull  old  woman,  but  the  face  above 
that  part  of  the  apron  which  Lena  called  "  the  choker" 
looked  singularly  childlike.  The  new  bonnet,  a  long 
tubular  thing  of  glistening  straw,  with  a  green  barege 
cape  and  narrow  green  strings,  hung  from  Oshia's  arm. 
The  Eldress  laid  her  pen  down. 

"  I  shall  not  take  time,  Oshia,  to  speak  with  you  upon 
your  conduct  of  last  night.  You  have  repeatedly  broken 
the  rules  of  this  house.  I  will  only  say  this,  that  my 
duty  to  myself  and  to  the  family  demands  that  I  take 
sterner  measures  with  you  than  heretofore.  I  have  de- 
cided to  send  you  away.  I  think  you  will  be  better 
off  in  another  place.  I  shall  therefore  take  you,  on 
Wednesday  next,  to  our  town  at  Union,  and  give  you 
permanently  to  the  charge  of  Sister  Maria — 

She  stopped.  The  bonnet  had  slipped  from  Oshia's 
arm,  and  had  fallen  to  the  floor  with  the  light  clatter  of 
an  empty  egg-shell.  Oshia's  eyes  were  big  with  hor- 
ror. 

"Eldress,"  she  quavered,  "I — I  always  lived  herea- 
bouts. He's  buried  out  yender — my  pappy!  Don't  ye! 
don't  ye!  I  won't  steal  off  to  look  arter  that  noun'.  I — 
I— I- 

"  What  I  propose  is  for  your  good,"  said  the  Eldress, 
coldly.  She  felt,  at  the  sight  of  Oshia's  anguish,  an  un- 
accustomed thrill  at  the  heart,  and  this  thrill  she  hastened 
to  vanquish  at  once. 

"Oh!"  moaned  Oshia.  "Oh,  Eldress!  What  'a'  I 
done  as  makes  you'ns  hate  me  so?" 

"Hate?     I  am  amazed!     I  desire  your  good." 

"Ye  hate  me,"  said  Oshia.  "I  reckon  it's  nat'ral. 
You've  always  been  rich  and  imposing  all  your  life,  and 
never  knowed  nothing  but  plenty.  And  I  wears  on  ye 
because  I  hain't  been  bred  up  to  sleep  in  sheets,  or  hev 
my  finger-nails  trimmed  reg'lar,  or  bide  in-doors  and  han- 
dle a  needle.  I  was  getting  to  like  it  here  real  well.  I 


think  heaps  of  Rachel  Day.  And  now  I  got  to  go!  I 
got  to  go!  Oh,  I'd  as  soon  be  dead— I  would!  Oh!  Oh!" 

"Hush!"  motioned  the  Eldress,  lifting  her  finger  upon 
this  wail.  There  was  at  her  heart  again  that  same  queer 
thrill;  and  as  she  felt  it,  the  Eldress  was  glad  of  a  noise 
which  just  then  arose  in  the  hall  below. 

"We'd  like  to  look  around  the  village,  and  see  what 
there  is  to  see,"  said  a  woman's  voice.  "We're  staying- 
over  at  the  camp-meeting  grounds,  and  a  party  of  us  made 
up  to  drive  over  here  to  see  Shakertown.  I  suppose  we 
can  get  some  one  to  show  us  about?" 

There  was  a  step  on  the  stair.  Sister  Lena  came  hastily 
into  the  Eldress's  room. 

"There's  a  party  of  camp-meetin'  folks  askin'  to  be 
showed  round,  Eldress.  They  couldn't  hev  picked  out  a 
more  ill-convenient  time.  I  got  my  jam  on  boilin',  and 
the  rest  of  the  women  hev  gone  to  camp-meetin'.  I 
don'  know  who'll  take  'em  round." 

"I  will,"  said  the  Eldress.  "As  soon  as  I  change  my 
cap.  Meanwhile  you  go  down  and  show  them  the  broom 
shop,  Oshia.  I  will  join  you  there  in  a  minute." 

"  Yea,  Eldress,"  said  Oshia.  And  the  Eldress  had  a 
sense  of  compunction  at  the  child's  ready  obedience. 

"I'm  sent  to  fetch  you  over  to  the  broom  shop,"  ex- 
plained Oshia,  addressing  the  group  in  the  hall. 

There  were  half  a  dozen  young  women,  and  one  who 
was  gray-headed  and  wore  crape  trimmings  in  her  bon- 
net. 

The  young  women  giggled.  "Oh,  isn't  she  a  queer 
little  thing  in  that  Shaker  bonnet?  And  what  an  odd 
accent!" 

"Ma'am?"  said  Oshia,  mystified. 

"  You  talk  so — so  different,  dear.     Dialect,  you  know." 

Oshia  conceived  this  to  be  complimentary.  "I  talk 
jest  like  my  pappy  did,"  she  explained.  "He  wasn't 
born  round  here.  He  was  from  Casey  County." 

She  piloted  the  visitors  across  the  street.  At  the  door 
of  the  broom  shop  Lief  Liefson  received  them,  and  while 
the  young-  women  went  off  with  him  into  the  fresh-smell- 
ing interior,  the  woman  in  the  crape  trimmings  sat  down 
to  rest. 

"I  don't  care  much  for  Shaker  sights,"  she  said  to 
Oshia,  who  lingered  near,  politely  averse  to  leaving  the 
old  lady.  "  I  live  within  six  miles  of  one  of  their  settle- 
ments in  Ohio.  When  I  was  young  I  used  to  go  over  there 
with  the  boys  and  girls,  and  stay  to  supper.  We  thought 
it  was  great  fun!"  She  sighed.  "  One  of  my  most  inti- 
mate girl  friends,"  she  went  on  presently,  "went  and 
joined  the  Shakers  years  ago.  I  don't  know  what  ever 
became  of  her.  She  didn't  stay  in  the  Ohio  communitv. 
She'd  had  a  great  affliction,  and  I  guess  she  was  glad  to 
get  away  from  those  parts.  Poor  'Liza!  Her  father — 
well,  it's  too  long  a  story  to  go  into!  He'd  always  been 
well  thought  of,  and  all  at  once  it  came  out  that  lie  was 
dishonest.  He'd  cheated  a  near  friend  out  of  a  piece  of 
property.  I  know  about  it,  because  the  man  he  cheated 
was  my  uncle.  And  when  my  uncle  found  he'd  been  so 
deceived  he  gave  right  up,  and  kind  of  lost  his  head,  and 
had  to  be  shut  up.  And  when  'Liza's  father  saw  what 
he'd  done— well,  nobody  ever  knew  just  what  happened. 
He  died  sudden,  and  they  said  'twas  paralysis.  I  don't 
know.  Anyway,  'Liza,  his  only  child,  she  took  it  pretty 
.  hard.  She  gave  up  everything,  and  went  amongst  the 
Shakers.  She  must  be  quite  an  elderly — 

The  woman  broke  off  sharply,  suddenly.  There  was 
another  sound  also — a  sound  like  a  gasp,  a  sob. 

In  the  broom-shop  door,  against  a  square  of  blue  sky 
and  yellow  straw  and  distant  greenness,  the  Eldress 
stood,  holding  fast  by  the  post,  as  if  to  stay  herself  from 
falling.  Her  large  face  was  mottled  in  purple,  and  she 
shook,  as  she  stood  there,  almost  like  one  who  is  taken 
with  a  violent  chill.  Even  her  eyes,  shaded  with  the  stiff 
rim  of  her  fresh  cap,  looked  fixed  and  glassy. 


40 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


"ELDEESS,"  BREATHED    OSHIA,  "I    ASTS    YODK    PAKDING    OVER    AND    OVER. 


"Jinny!"  she  whispered;  "oh,  Jinny!" 

The  woman  in  the  crape  bonnet  had.  risen  and  stepped 
forward.  Her  face  also  had  changed. 

"You?"  she  cried.      "Why,  'Liza  Lincoln  !" 

They  stared  at  each  other  for  an  instant,  these  two  old 
women,  who  had  last  seen  each  other  in  the  spring  of 
youth.  Then  Oshia,  who  stood  hard  by,  observed  a 
strange  sight.  The  stern  and  awe-inspiring  Eldress,  sob- 
bing like  a  child,  was  hiding  her  wet  face  in  the  other 
woman's  neck — actually  sobbing,  while  her  old  friend  pat- 
ted and  consoled  he)1. 

"I  have  never  got  over  it,  Jinny!"  she  said,  quite 
huskily. 

"  There,  now  !"  soothed  the  other.  "  Don't  you  feel  so ! 
You  did  all  you  could — giving  up  your  property  to  Un- 
cle Jim's  folks." 

"None  of  them  here  know  anything1  about  it,"  mur- 
mured the  Eldress.  "  I  couldn't  stand  it  to  have  them 
talk  about  my  father — being —  She  added:  "  The  other 
Eldress  knew.  But  she  said  I  needn't  feel  as  if  I  ought 
to  tell  about  it." 

"I  should  say  not!  I  wouldn't  ever  let  'em  hear. 
Are  you  Eldress  T 

"  Yea,  Jinny." 

"  Well,  I  won't  ever  speak  a  word  of  it  when  the  girls 
come  back.  You've  had  trouble  enough.  We  may  never 
see  each  other  again." 

The  Eldress  lifted  her  face  thankfully.      "You  were 


always  so  cheering,"  she  began;  and 
then  she  faltered,  for  her  eyes  had  sud- 
denly taken  note  of  Oshia,  standing 
very  near,  with  wide  eyes  and  parted 
lips. 

Oshia  had  heard — Oshia,  whose  fa- 
ther's idleness  and  thriftlessness  the  El- 
dress had  so  severely  censured — Oshia 
had  heard  of  a  father  whose  sins  had 
been  deeper  than  the  sin  of  mere  indo- 
lence. Oshia  had  heard  all.  Oshia 
knew  that  she  who  ruled  things  with  so 
high  a  hand  in  Shakertown  had  long 
been  weighed  down  with  a  painful  se- 
cret. Oshia  knew.  And  presently  the 
folk  of  South  Union,  who  held  in  such 
deep  veneration  the  Eldress  of  the  upper 
community,  would  wonder  over  the 
sadness  and  shameful  ness  of  the  story 
Oshia's  childish  lips  revealed  to  them. 

The  Eldress  drew  a  sickening  breath. 
The  place  had  grown  dim  to  her — a  great 
reeling  space  filled  with  musty  odors  of 
straw  and  mocking  glints  of  gold.      She 
seemed  to'feel  her  knees  loosing.     And 
then,  oddly   enough,  something    like    a 
warm  living  embrace  seemed  to  strength- 
en   the   relaxing   joints.       About    them 
was  a  close,  eager  clasp;  a  moved,  tear- 
ful little  face  was    pressed    against  the 
stiff  folds  of  the  Eldress's  skirts.     Gaz- 
ing down  with  bewildered  eyes,  the  El- 
dress saw  Fales's  Oshia  kneeling  before 
her,  pressing  with  passionate  sympathy 
a  wet  cheek  upon  the  Eldress's  cold  hand. 
"Eldress,"    breathed    Oshia,   "I    asts 
your    parding    over  and   over   for  ever 
a-grieving  of  you'like  I  hev — when  you 
had  all   that  worry  of   your  own — your 
pappy  a-doing  wrong,  and— and  all  that ! 
I   thort  you  was   mean,  and  hated   me. 
But  I  see  now  it  was  only  your  trouble. 
I  know!     I   know!     If    my  pappy   had 
done  wrong  by  any  person,  oh,  I  know 
how   I'd    feel!     I   wisht  I  could  of  ben 
some  comfort  to  ye,  instead  of  tormenting  ye  like  I  hcv  ! 
But  you'll  forgive  me,  won't  ye — when  I'm  gone  away  off 
to  South  Union,  and  you  won't  hear  me  stompin'  round 
the  halls  no  more,  and  laughin'  loud?    Won't  ye,  Eldress? 
I'll  tell  'em  all  how  good  ye  was  to  me.      But  I  won't  tell 
'em  'bout  your  pappy.      He's  dead.      I  won't  never  pass 
a  word  'bout  him." 

The  woman  in  crape  looked  confused.  "  What  on  earth 
is  the  child  talking  about?"  she  asked.  "  She  seems  very 
affectionate.  Has  she  been  a  trouble  to  you? — and  where 
is  she  going  to,  anyway?" 

The  Eldress  had  stooped  and  lifted  Oshia  to  her  feet. 
Slie  pushed  back  the  rough  red  hair,  and  looked  for  a 
moment  into  Oshia's  frank  fervent  eyes.  And  then  she 
did  what  Shakers  seldom  do — she  kissed  Oshia's  cheek. 

"She  is  going  to  stay  here — right  herewith  me,"  said 
the  Eldress,  unsteadily.  "  She  spoke  of  going  to  Union — 
another  settlement  of  ours.  But  she  isn't  going.  I  want 
her  here.  I  need  her.  I  have  made  many  mistakes  in 
regard  to  you,  Oshia.  I  have  been  too  severe.  But 
now— now  we're  going  to  get  acquainted,  to  be  real 
friends!" 

"Eldress!  oh,  Eldress!  sure  'nough  do  you  xeed.ine? 
Oh  !  oh  !  I'll  try,  I'll  try  to  do  like  you  want  me.  I  got 
a  heap  to  1'arn." 

"  Not  more  than  I  have,  Oshia!"  said  the  Eldress,  gen- 
tly, as  she  straightened  Oshia's  net. 
THE  END. 


AFLOAT   WITH    THE    FLAG. 


BY    W.  J.  HENDERSON. 


CHAPTER      V. 
IN   AND   OUT    OF   THE    SERVICE. 


"T  PROTEST  against  this  as  an  outrage!"  cried  George. 
1  "No  back  talk!"  exclaimed  the  sergeant. 

"One  moment,  please,"  said  Harold,  politely.  "We 
are  naval  cadets,  and  are  under  orders  to  leave  New  York 
to-night  to  join  our  ship,  the  Detroit,  to-morrow." 

"  W'y,  that  are  my  case  too,"  said  Peter.  "I  ought 
to  ha'  gone  this  mornin',  but  I  got  lost  somehow  from 
the  crowd  that  went  from  the  Vermont." 

"This  is  a  likely  story!"  exclaimed  the  sergeant. 

"  If  you'll  send  for  Captain  Hiram  Lockwood,  he'll  tell 
you  it's  true,"  said  Hal. 

"  Captain  Lockwood?  Do  you  know  him?"  asked  the 
sergeant. 

"  We  are  visiting  at  his  house." 

The  sergeant  thought  a  momeiit,  and  as  the  house  was 
only  a  block  away,  sent  an  officer  there.  He  returned 
in  a  few  minutes  with  the  Captain  and  Frank,  who 
promptly  confirmed  the  story  of  the  boys. 

"Well,  Captain  Lockwood,  I  know  you,  and  this  looks 
quite  straight  now,  but  I'd  like  to  see  these  young  gentle- 
men s  orders." 

Fortunately  the  boys  had  the  orders  in  their  pockets. 
They  were  now  released,  together  with  the  cockswain. 

"By  the  great  hook  block."  exclaimed  the  Captain, 
"you've  no  time  to  spare!  We'd  better  take  a  carriage." 

"Cocks'n,  you  go  with  ns,"  said  Hnl. 

A  coach  was  procured,  and  with    the  Captain  and  the 


three  boys  inside  and  Peter  on  the  box  with  the  driver 
it  went  rattling  away. 

"We'll  be  lucky  if  we're  not  left,"  muttered  George. 

"  We'll  make  it  if  we  don't  break  down,"  said  the  Cap- 
tain. "  Meantime,  boys,  don't  worry  yourselves  about 
hunting  for  Bob.  Only  if  you  get  the  chance,  do  what 
you  can." 

"That's  all  very  fine,"  said  Frank  Lockwood  to  him- 
self; "but  their  chances  of  searching  for  Bob  are  done. 
I  have  no  orders,  and  I'll  not  sit  still  in  idleness.  I  am 
the  one  who  will  find  my  cousin." 

Clang!  clang!  went  the  bell  in  the  ferry-house  as  the 
carriage  drove  up.  The  boys  bounded  out,  and  rushed 
to  the  ticket  office. 

"  Hold  the  boat  for  ten  seconds!"  cried  Captain  Lock- 
wood. 

And,  strange  to  say,  it  was  done,  so  that  the  boys  and 
Peter  jumped  aboard  just  as  it  moved  out. 

Bright  and  early  next  morning,  attired  in  service  uni- 
form with  swords  and  white  gloves,  the  two  cadets  went 
off  in  the  Norfolk  navy-yard  launch  to  the  Detroit,  which 
was  lying  off  shore. 

"Isn't  she  a  little  beauty!"  exclaimed  George,  gazing 
with  hungry  eyes  on  the  cruiser  now  to  be  hrs  home. 

"She  is  that,"  answered  Harold,  heartily. 

Their  enthusiasm  was  well  deserved,  for  the  Detroit  is 
as  neat  a  craft  as  ever  filled  a  sailor's  eye.  She  measures 
257  feet  long,  37  feet  in  beam,  and  14  feet  6  inches  in 
draught.  She  has  two  masts,  fore  and  aft,  schooner-rigged, 
with  the  usual  signal-yard  at  the  foremasthead.  She  has 


GEORGE    WAS    ORDERED    TO    GO    WITH    THE    WHALE-BOAT    TO    BRING    OFF    THE    WRECKED    CREW. 


42 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


a  topgallant  forecastle  and  poop  and  two  smokestacks. 
Her  armament  consists  of  two  6 -inch  breech -load  ing- 
rifles — one  mounted  on  the  poop,  and  the  other  on  the 
forecastle,  and  eight  4-inch  rapid-fire  guns  on  the  poop 
and  main  decks.  She  has  the  usual  secondary  battery 
of  Hotchkiss  rapid-fire  guns.  Of  course  she  is  painted 
white.  All  the  ships  of  our  new  navy  are  white,  so  that 
the  term  "  white  squadron,"  originally  used  to  designate 
the  first  squadron  of  four  —  Chicago,  Atlanta,  Boston, 
and  Yurli/iiicn — is  now  out  of  date. 

"I  wonder  what  sort  of  a  fellow  the  first  Lieutenant 
is?"  said  George. 

The  executive  officer  of  a  ship,  who  is  second  in  com- 
mand, is  always  called  the  "first  Lieutenant,"  no  matter 
what  his  rank  may  be,  just  as  the  commanding  officer, 
though  lie  may  be  only  a  Lieutenant-Commander,  is  al- 
ways called  "Captain.'' 

"It  can't  make  any  difference  to  us,"  said  Harold; 
"  we've  got  to  obey  him  anyhow." 

"Yes,  but  lie  can  make  it  mighty  unpleasant  for  us." 

"Not  if  we  attend  to  our  duties." 

The  launch  ran  alongside  the  starboard  accommoda- 
tion ladder,  and  Harold  led  the  way  up.  On  reaching 
the  deck  both  boys  faced  aft  and  lifted  their  caps.  This 
salute  to  the  flag  which  floats  at  the  taffrail  is  never 
omitted.  The  officer  o'f  the  deck  approached  and  lifted 
his  cap. 

"  Come  on  board,  sir,  to  report  for  duty, "  said  Harold, 
standing  at  "attention." 

"Ah,  Mr.  King  and  Mr.  Briscomb,  I  suppose,"  replied 
the.  officer,  pleasantly.  "Orderly!"  A  marine  in  dress 
uniform  and  white  gloves  was  standing  under  the  break 
of  the  poop  in  front  of  the  door  leading  to  the  Captain's 
cabin.  He  came  forward  and  touched  his  cap.  "In- 
form the  Captain  that  cadets  King  and  Briscomb  have 
come  aboard." 

The  marine  saluted  and  went  into  the  cabin.  In  a  few 
moments  he  returned  and  said  to  the  officer  of  the  deck, 
"The  Captain  says,  sir,  to  please  send  the  gentlemen  in." 
The  boys  followed  the  orderly,  who  led  them  to  the  after- 
cabin.  There  they  found  themselves  before  Commander 
Brownson,  a  man  whose  grizzled  hair  and  bronzed  face 
bore  the  marks  of  long  and  honorable  service  under  the 
American  flag. 

"We  have  the  honor  to  report  for  duty  according  to 
orders,  sir,''  said  Harold,  as  he  and  George  handed  to 
their  commanding  officer  the  letters  received  from  Wash- 
ington the  night  before. 

"  I  see  you  have  lost  no  time,  young  gentlemen,"  said 
Commander  Brownson,  glancing  at  the  post-marks  on 
the  envelopes.  "I  trust  you  will  always  be  as  prompt 
and  accurate  in  obeying  orders." 

"We  shall  try  to  be,  sir,"' said  Harold. 

Something  in  the  quiet  modesty  of  the  boy's  manner 
impressed  the  Commander,  and  he  smiled  pleasantly  as 
he  wrote  his  name  across  the  papers  and  said, 

"Take  your  orders  to  the  officer  of  the  deck." 

And  now  began  a  long  arduous  summer  of  routine  and 
drill,  the  monotony  oT  which  was  broken  only  by  the 
pranks  of  the  older  cadets.  They  were  bent  on  making 
the  introduction  of  our  two  young  friends  into  the  ser- 
vice as  lively  as  possible,  and  for  weeks  the  boys  were 
subjected  to  a  series  of  petty  annoyances  such  as  they  had 
not  known  since  they  were  in  the  fourth  class  at  the 
Academy.  They  bore  it  all  very  patiently,  however,  for 
their  Annapolis  experience  had  hardened  them  to  this 
sort  of  thing.  The  older  cadets  were  under  the  delusion 
that  the  executive  officer  did  not  have  his  eye  on  them; 
but  he  was  preparing  to  put  down  the  disorder  with  a 
stern  hand  when  an  incident  occurred  which  ended  it 
suddenly  and  decisively. 

George  and  Harold  had  just  received  a  letter  from 
Frank  Lockwood,  and  it  made  them  thoughtful.  "I 


suppose  you  fellows  have  heard  of  the  breaking  out  of  a 
revolution  in  Brazil,"  he  said.  "I  can't  stand  this  in- 
activity any  longer,  so  I  have  resigned  from  the  service, 
and  am  going  to  Rio  Janeiro  to  hunt  for  Bob.  I  shall 
enlist  with  the  insurgent  Admiral  Mello.  I  mean  to  try 
for  a  berth  on  the  Aqit/tlaban,  and  I'll  bet  you  I  shall 
see  some  fighting." 

The  two  boys  had  read  this  just  before  going  on  de<-k 
for  the  watch,  and  they  were  now  standing  near  a  port 
on  the  spar-deck  discussing  it. 

"  How  can  he  search  for  his  cousin,  and  be  in  the  ser- 
vice of  the  rebels?"  said  George. 

"Poor  Frank,"  sighed  Harold;  "always  crazy  for  ad- 
venture. He  will  live  to  be  sorry  that  he  has  left  the 
service  of  our  flag  for  that  of  a  foreign  one." 

Just  then  the  time  arrived  for  relieving  the  watch,  and 
as  George  turned  to  go  aft,  the  rammer  of  the  gun  beside 
which  he  had  been  standing  was  suddenly  thrust  between 
his  legs.  He  made  a  violent  effort  to  save  himself  from 
falling,  and  instead  of  doing  so  turned  himself  around, 
lost  his  balance,  and  fell  through  the  open  port  into  the 
water. 

"  You  brute!"  exclaimed  Harold,  to  the  now  frightened 
cadet,  who  had  been  too  playful.  "He's  a  miserable 
swimmer." 

And  without  pausing  to  take  off  his  coat,  Harold  jumped 
into  the  water.  Peter  Morris,  the  cockswain,  was  lean- 
ing over  the  rail  at  the  time  of  George's  mishap,  and  he 
yelled  at  the  top  of  his  leathery  lungs, 

' '  Man  overboard !" 

In  an  instant  there  was  a  commotion  on  the  deck  as 
the  officer  of  the  watch  sang  out : 

"Call  away  the  whale-boat!     Heave  a  buoy  there!" 

"  It  are  all  werry  well,"  muttered  Peter  Morris  through 
his  shaggy  brown  beard,  "but  if  one  o'  them  boys  can't 
swim  werry  good,  two  of  'em's  werry  likely  to  git 
drownded,  'less  Peter  Morris  are  also  in  the  water,  w'ich 
the  same  here  goes." 

And  with  that  the  honest  fellow  plunged  overboard, 
and  struck  out  for  the  spot  where  Harold,  weighed  down 
with  his  water-soaked  clothing,  was  making  a  desperate 
struggle  to  keep  George  and  himself  afloat. 

CHAPTER    VI. 
NEWS    FROM    MID-OCEAN. 

"  BEGGIN'  your  pardon,  sir,"  continued  Peter  a  moment 
later,  as  he  seized  George  by  the  collar,  and  held  both 
boys  above  the  surface  until  help  could  come. 

A  few  minutes  later  the  three  were  hauled  into  the 
whale-boat,  and  were  taken  aboard  the  ship,  where  they 
were  at  once  sent  to  the  sick-bay  to  be  attended  by  the 
surgeon.  Peter  did  not  seem  to  be  in  need  of  attention, 
but  he  was  much  concerned  about  George,  who  was  al- 
most unconscious.  The  efforts  of  the  surgeon  restored 
him,  however,  and  then  Harold  turned  around  and  held 
out  his  hand. 

"  Morris,''  he  said,  "I  think  he  would  have  pulled  me 
under  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you." 

The  cockswain  pulled  off  his  wet  cap,  which  had  stuck 
to  his  head,  and  shook  the  young  officer's  proffered  hand. 

"Bless  ye,  sir,"  he  said,  "it  are  all  in  the  way  of  a 
day's  reckonin'.  An'  you  did  me  a  good  turn  in  New 
York,  sir." 

"Well,"  said  Harold,  "I  sha'n't  forget  this." 

This  incident  was  the  beginning  of  as  warm  a  friend- 
ship as  could  possibly  exist  between  a  seaman  and  two 
junior  officers,  for  George  proved  to  be  quite  as  sensible 
of  the  cockswain's  gallantry  as  Harold.  And  this  oc- 
currence made  the  older  cadets  realize  that  they  had  car- 
ried their  practical  joking  too  far,  and  there  was  an  end 
of  it. 

One  morning  the  bugle  seemed  to  sound  the  reveille 


NOVEMBER  20,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


43 


with  a  new  vim,  and  the  men  tumbled  out  of  their  ham- 
mocks with  unwonted  celerity.  For  several  hours  all 
was  bustle  and  hurry  on  the  Detroit's  decks.  In  the 
midst  of  it  all  the  two  boys  met  their  friend  Peter  Morris 
under  the  break  of  the  forecastle. 

"  Peter,  we're  going  to  sea,  sure,"  said  George. 

"  Werry  good,  sir,  says  I.  'Cos  w'y:  ships  is  built  to 
go  to  sea." 

"I  suppose  the  men  are  all  wondering  where  we're 
bound,"  said  Hal. 

"No,sir;   most  on  'em  knows. " 

"  Then  they  know  more  than  we  do !"  exclaimed  ( leorge. 

"  A  werry  good  deal  more,  sir.  Some  on  'em  knows 
we're  goi n '  to  China  to  join  the  Lancdxti'i:  an'  some  knows 
we're  goin'  to  England.  Others  knows  we're  goin'  to 
Noo  York,  an'  more  knows  that  we're  goin'  to  the  West 
Injies.  Werry  good,  says  I.  But  them  as  don't  know 
nothin' don't  make  no  mistakes." 

And  the  cockswain  walked  away  gravely  shaking  his 
head.  For  some  days  after  this  all  hands  were  busy  in 
getting  stores  of  various  kinds  aboard.  Finally  all  this 
work  was  completed,  and  the  Detroit  .left  the  wharf  to  lie 
at  anchor  in  the  stream,  while  she  flew  a  square  red  Hag 
at  her  fore-truck,  signifying  that  she  was  getting  her 
powder  aboard. 

At  last  all  was  ready,  and  to  the  steady  haul  of  the 
steam-gear  the  anchor  came  slowly  in.  It  was  secured 
for  sea,  and  before  the  sun  peeped  over  the  distant  purple 
rim  of  the  horizon  the  white  hull  of  the  cruiser  was  cleav- 
ing the  green  waters  off  Lambert  Point,  with  the  oily 
swell  of  a  smooth  sea  brimming  around  her  forefoot. 
Harold  gazed  straight  ahead  of  him  and  saw  the  tremu- 
lous ripples  aglow  with  the  glory  of  sunrise,  and  it  seemed 
as  if  the  ship  were  carrying  him  straight  into  sailors' 
paradise.  For  many  days  the  Detroit  glided  through  an 
ocean  of  enchanted  peace,  but  there  finally  came  a 
change. 

"Double-lens  your  eyes  to-night,  Mr.  King,"  said  the 
Navigator,  as  Harold  came  on  deck  for  the  first  watch. 
' '  I  am  steering  to  make  the  South  Point  Light  on  Barbadoes 
to  get  a  new  departure." 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  replied  Harold.  "I'll  keep  a  bright 
lookout  myself,  sir.  and  see  that  the  men  don't  soldier." 

"  If  I'm  any  judge  of  signs  we'll  have  a  taste  of  weather 
inside  of  twenty-four  hours." 

"  Yes,  sir, "said  Harold. 

The  boy  was  too  well  disciplined  to  venture  an  opinion 
unasked  in  the  presence  of  his  superior,  but  he  had  no- 
ticed that  the  stars  appeared  to  be  veiled  in  moisture, 
and  that  there  was  a  deep-chested  breathing  in  the  long 
swell  from  the  southward  and  eastward. 

"Barometer  29. 80, "muttered  George,  who  was  in  the 
habit  of  talking  to  himself  under  his  breath  when  he  was 
alone;  "wind  S.S.E.,  with  a  force  of  4.  Character  of 
clouds,  stratified;  percentage  of  clear  sky,  10;  thermome- 
ter, 76°;  wet  bulb,  68°;  there." 

George  was  making  the  entries  in  the  log-book  at  the 
end  of  his  first  hour  011  watch.  Two  bells  pealed  in  dreary 
discord,  and  the  lookouts  forward  passed  the  hoarse  hail 
of  "  Mast-head  and  starboard  lights  burning  brightly- 
port  light  burning  brightly."  The  running-  lights  were 
sending  long  flickering  shafts  of  red  and  green  out  upon 
the  ocean  ahead  of  the  ship,  and  one  could  see  the  big 
shiny  billows  glancing  along  toward  the  bows  as  the  ship 
lifted  her  ram  over  the  crests,  and  then  plunged  it  with  a 
great  roaring  and  whitening  of  foam  into  the  black  hol- 
lows. 

"Where  was  that  blessed  barometer  at  eight  bells?" 
muttered  George.  "Whew!  It's  coining  down  with  a 
rush.  We're  going  to  get  a  gale  of  wind  right  in  the 
teeth." 

He  went  out  of  the.  chart-house,  and  received  a  volley 
of  rain-drops  driven  horizontally  into  his  face. 


"Here  it  comes,  "he  said,  "all  a-pipingout  of  the  south- 
east." 

For  twenty  -  four  hours  it  blew  as  it  knows  how  to 
blow  in  the  regions  around  the  equator,  and  then  it  cleared 
up  with  amazing  swiftness.  The  course  of  the  cruiser 
was  set  once  more,  and  now  the  men  began  to  suspect 
her  destination. 

"If  I  might  make  so  bold  as  to  ask.  sir. "said  Morris, 
who  was  on  duty  near  Harold,  "  what  are  the  course  ?" 

"Southeast  by  east," answered  Hal. 

"  Then  this  'ere  ship  are  bound  around  Cape  St.  Roque." 

"You've  been  there,  then." 

"Bless  ye,  sir,  I  been  all  over  this  'ere  bloomin'  globe, 
I  have,  an'  this  'ere  wessel  are  a  headin'  fur  Brazil." 

"  Of  course.     Every  one  knows  that  now." 

"Wot  I  hears  I  hears,  an'  wot  I  knows  I  knows;  but 
wot  I  hears  afore  the  mast  I  doesn't  allus  know,  sir." 

"Well,  Peter,  we're  surely  bound  for  Rio  to  help  to 
protect  American  interests  there.  Mello's  rebellion  has 
turned  out  to  be  a  serious  matter,  and  the  Navy  Depart- 
ment is  going  to  have  in  Rio  Harbor  one  of  the  strongest 
fleets  the  United  States  has  ever  got  together." 

"  W'ich  the  same  it  are  werry  good.  'Cos  w'y:  them 
dagos  'ain't  got  no  respect  fur  our  flag." 

"  Well,  there's  going  to  be  a  different  tune  sung  now." 

W'ich    are  the  tune  o'  'Yankee  Doodle.'     Perhaps 

it  '11  so  happen  as  we'll  have  to  take  a  hand  in  the  muss." 

"I  hope  not,"  said  Harold.  "Fighting  the  Aquida- 
ban  would  be  no  joke.  Besides,  there  is  something  else." 

"  An'  wot  might  that  be,  sir?" 

"  George  and  I  would  have  to  fight  against  our  friend 
and  classmate  Frank  Lock  wood." 

"  That  would  be  a  werry  bad  business." 

"  Sail-1-1  ho-o-o!"  came  the  clear  cry  from  the  foretop. 

The  usual  questions  and  answers  followed,  and  it  was 
learned  that  a  wreck  lay  almost  ahead  of  the  Detroit. 

"Evidently  the  work  of  last  night's  gale,"  said  Mr. 
Burrell. 

All  hands  were  now  intensely  interested,  for  there 
might  be  living  human  beings  in  need  of  assistance  aboard 
of  her.  The  cruiser  bore  down  on  the  dismasted  hulk 
wallowing  pathetically  in  the  long  glassy  swells. 

"There's  a  man,  sir!"  cried  Harold,  whose  keen  eyes 
had  detected  a  hand  waving  from  one  of  the  cabin  ports. 

"Call  away  the  second  whale-boat!"  cried  Mr.  Burrell, 
in  short  sharp  tones. 

The  boatswain's  shrill  pipe  and  hoarse  cry  of  "  Away, 
second  whale-boat!"  sent  willing  feet  along  the  deck. 
The  cruiser's  engines  were  stopped  and  reversed,  and 
George  was  ordered  to  go  with  the  whale-boat  to  bring 
off  the  wrecked  crew.  The  boy  obeyed  most  willingly,  for 
it  was  his  first  experience  of  the  kind  and  had  all  the  ex- 
citement of  novelty.  He  found  some  difficulty  in  getting, 
the  whale-boat  under  the  lee  quarter  of  the  schooner,  for 
such  the  vessel  was,  but  finally  succeeded  in  doing  so. 
The  man  who  had  waved  his  hand  from  the  cabin  now 
appeared  crawling  painfully  along  the  deck. 

"Are  you  hurt?"  called  George. 

"  My  knee  is  sprained,  sir,"  answered  the  man. 

"  Where  are  the  others  of  your  crew  '." 

"  The  Lord  alone  can  tell  that,  sir.  We  was  dismasted 
in  the  gale  yesterday  morning,  sir,  just  before  daylight. 
and  I  never  saw  a  soul  afterward.  All  knocked  over- 
board, sir,  and  drowned." 

"Can  you  get  into  the  boat?" 

"  I  guess  so,  sir." 

The  man  reached  the  boat  with  great  difficulty  and 
much  pain. 

"  God  bless  you,  sir,  and  the  flag  you're  flyin' !  It  does 
my  heart  good  to  see  an  American  cruiser.  Are  you  go- 
in'  to  Brazil  ?" 

"Yes.      Why  do  you  ask  ;" 

"  You're  needed  there,  sir.     They're  treatin'  Americans 


44 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


shameful  down  there,  though  there's  some  of  us  in  their 
service  too." 

George's  heart  gave  a  sudden  bound. 

"  Did  you  know  anything  about  any  of  them?" 

"  I  saw  some  of  them,  sir." 

George  rapidly  described  Robert  Lockwood  to  the 
sailor,  and  asked  if  he  had  heard  or  seen  anything  of 
such  a  young  man. 

"  Seen  him?  Sure  enough,  sir.  Why,  he  went  down 
there  as  a  hand  on  that  very  schooner  you're  just  takin' 
nie  off,  an'  a  good  hand  too." 

''And  where  is  he  now?" 

"That's  what  I  don't  know,  sir.  He  left  us  there,  an' 
some  says  he's  shipped  •with  Mello,  an'  some  says  he's 
with  Peixoto." 

As  soon  as  they  reached  the  Detroit,  and  George  had 
completed  his  duty,  he  ran  to  tell  Harold  the  news. 

''  He  must  be  down  there  somewhere,  Hal,"  he  said. 

"It  looks  that  way,"  said  Hal,  "  and  I  think  we  have 
as  good  a  chance  of  finding  him  as  Frank,  if  not  better." 

"Anyhow,  we  can  keep  our  word  to  the  Captain  and 
go  on  with  the  search." 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


DOILIES  FOR  CHRISTMAS   PRESENTS. 

IF  you  wish  to  rejoice  the  heart  of  a  good  housekeeper 
make  some  bit  of  dainty  drapery  for  her.  Simple  or 
elaborate,  it  is  sure  to  be  "  just  what  she  wants,"  and  no- 
where can  you  exercise  more  taste  than  on  doilies  of  va- 
rious kinds. 

Designs  for  them  are  as  plentiful  as  the  sands  of  the 
sea;  but  if  you  have  a  talent  for  drawing,  or  even  a  mod- 
erate amount  of  inventive  genius,  I  advise  you  to  evolve 
your  own  patterns. 

A  little  friend  of  mine,  who  is  as  dextrous  with  a  brush 
as  she  is  awkward  with  a  needle,  after  vainly  struggling 


BUTTER-PLATE    AND    FINGER-BOWL    DOILIES. 


with  silks,  determined  to  try  a  set  of  finger-bowl  doilies 
on  an  entirely  new  plan. 

She  cut  6 -inch  squares  of  bolting-cloth,  and  washed 
the  space  to  be  covered  by  her  design  with  thin  gum-ara- 
bic water,  put  on  with  a  camel's-hair  brush.  Then  she 
painted  tiny  oval  and  round  marines,  landscapes,  and 
moonlit  clouds  in  water-color.  The  four  sides  were  her- 
ring-boiied  an  inch  from  the  edge  with  fine  gold  thread 
in  small  stitches,  and  the  doilies  fringed.  No  effect  could 
be  more  delicate,  or  attainable  with  less  trouble  to  girls 
that  work  rapidly  and  well  in  water-colors. 

Appropriateness  has  its  own  charm,  too.  For  instance, 
you  might  embroider  a  set  of  six  doilies  for  a  musician, 
each  bearing  on  it  some  suggestion  of  her  hobby.  Let 
one  square  have  a  lyre — not  too  near  the  middle — the 
frame  cat-stitched  in  white  filoselle  outlined  with  gold- 
colored  silk;  the  strings  also  gold  silk.  Near  the  lyre 
draw  the  five  lines  called  in  music  the  staff,  and  outline 
them  in  white.  On  the  lines  and  between  the  spaces 
embroider  whole,  half,  and  quarter  notes,  tumbling  pell- 
mell  over  the  staff.  Some  should  be  of  gold  silk,  some 
of  white.  A  bass  clef  chasing  two  or  three  treble  clefs 
into  a  corner  will  add  to  the  rollicking  aspect  and  general 
character  of  the  thing.  A  kettle-drum,  cornet,  trombone, 
harp — in  short,  any  orchestral  instrument  could  be  used 
to  make  a  variety;  and  think  how  attractive  the  set  would 
look  at  a  musical  luncheon  or  tea. 

For  those  not  blessed  with  imagination  there  are  plenty 
of  ready-made  ideas,  if  one  may  so  express  it,  that  can 
easily  be  copied  or  improved  upon. 

Our  illustration  shows  a  butter-plate  doily  of  fine  linen 
embroidered  with  violets,  leaf  and  stems.  The  blossoms 
are  worked  in  Kensington  stitch,  but  the  difficulties  of 
shading  being  reduced  to  a  minimum,  no  one  having  the 
slightest  knowledge  of  embroidery  need  fear  to  under- 
take it. 

First,  you  must  disregard  nature  in  the  selection  of 
your  colors.  Pompeiian  pink  violets  with  almost  invis- 
ible green  stems  and  leaves  would  look  strange  in  a  gar- 
den, and  purple  violets  on  your  linen  would  appear  dull 
and  heavy  in  turn.  Silks  generally  come  in  five  shades. 
In  this  case  you  want  the  three  palest  Pompeiian  pinks 
for  your  flowers,  and  the  two  lightest  olives  for  leaf  and 
stems. 

Cut  by  a  thread  a  6-inch  square  of  linen.  In  the  mid- 
dle of  the  square  trace  a  circle  3^  inches  in  diameter. 
Stitch  around  this  with  a  lock-stitch  machine,  taking  care 
not  to  stretch  or  draw  the  linen. 

Work  in  Kensington  stitch  two  violets,  with  the  lower 
three  petals  in  medium,  and  the  upper  petals  in  dark  silk. 
Indicate  the  centres  by  a  few  short  stitches  of  pale  olive. 

Between  these  two  flowers  is  a  bud  of  medium  shade, 
with  calyx  and  stem  of  the  darker  olive. 

The  third  violet  has  the  lower  three  petals  of  light,  the 
upper  two  of  medium  shade.  On  either  side  of  it  is  a 
dark  bud,  with  calyx  and  stem  of  the  darker  olive. 

The  leaf  from  which  violets  and  tendrils  radiate  is  of 
the  darker  olive,  and  both  shades  are  used  for  stems. 

Button -hole  over  your  machine-stitching  with  white 
button-hole  twist,  keeping  the  stitches  close  together,  with- 
out crowding. 

Now  make  a  circle  5  inches  in  diameter  of  stiftish  pa- 
per, and  cut  the  linen  by  it. 

Fringe  the  sides  of  your  circle,  then  the  corners,  and 
trim  the  extra  length  from  the  corners  with  sharp  scissors. 

The  finger-bowl  doily  is  quite  as  simple  and  pretty  as 
the  other,  and  more  quickly  done. 

Cut  a  circle  6  inches  in  diameter  of  ordinary  wrapping- 
paper,  and  draw  your  pattern  on  it  in  heavy  ink  lines, 
proportioning  the  spray  so  that  the  stems  will  not  present 
a  spindling  appearance.  Baste  over  this  an  8-inch  square 
of  transparent  linen  cambric. 

Form  leaves  and  flower  petals  by  laying  over  the  pat- 


NOVEMBER  20,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


45 


tern  narrow  Houiton  braid,  and  basting1  this  only  through 
the  cambric. 

Button-hole  around  each  leaf  and  flower  petal  with 
white  embroidery  twist  (not  too  coarse)  two  short  stitches 
and  one  long.  The  stems  are  in  stem-stitch,  which  is  no- 
thing more  than  close  outlining. 

For  the  edge  use  -i-inoh  Houiton  braid,  basting  it 
smoothly  around  the  circle. 

Button-hole  the  inner  edge  of  the  braid  exactly  as  you 
did  the  spray,  but  simply  run  your  silk  through  the  spaces 
between  the  ovals. 

The  outer  edge,  a  pointed  scallop,  has  five  stitches  to 
each  point,  the  middle  stitch  being  longest ;  and  it  requires 
four  or  live  stitches  to  fill  up  the  spaces  between  the 
scallops. 

With  a  very  sharp  pair  of  embroidery  scissors  cut  away 
the  cambric  from  under  the  Honiton,  and  snip  the  points 
close  to  the  button-holing,  and  your  doily  is  complete. 


THE   YOUNG   PEOPLE'S  SHAKE  IN 
THANKSGIVING. 

BY  CHRISTINE  TERHUN'E   HERKICK. 

VLTHOUGH  the  young  people  of  each  family  revel  in 
all    the  good  things   of  the  Thanksgiving   festival, 
they  seldom  make  any  part  in  it  peculiarly  their  own. 

They  lend  a  hand — at  least  the  girls  do — in  a  little  of 
the  preparation,  and  it  is  their  delight  to  share  in  such 
agreeable  toil  as  seeding  raisins,  picking  over  currants, 
and  shredding  citron  for  the  mince  pie,  selecting  fruit 
for  the  table,  tasting  the  cider  to  see  if  it  is  at  the  proper 
stage  of  sweetness,  and  giving-  their  aid  in  similar  ways 


THE    CREAMY    STICKS    OF    WELL  I'ULLED    MOLASSES    CANDY. 


THE    SINGER    CLAD    AS    A    PILGRIM    DAUGHTER. 


where  the  reward  of  diligence  comes  with  the  tusk. 
Such  trifles  as  picking-,  slicing,  and  stewing  pumpkin, 
making  pastry  and  cake,  stuffing  turkeys,  and  cutting  up 
chickens  do  not  appeal  to  them.  The  important  part  of 
the  labor  which  involves  skill  and  responsibility  must 
fall  to  older  hands  and  heads;  and  in  those  homes  where 
hired  help  take  full  charge  of  the  culinary  portion  of  the 
Thanksgiving  celebration  the  young  people  are  unfortu- 
nately banished  from  the  kitchen  and  store-room — a  step 
which  deprives  them  not  only  of  a  little  work  and  a. 
great  deal  of  fun,  but  also  of  many  merry  memories  in 
the  future. 

Even  when  this  is  the  case,  however,  the  younglings 
need  not  feel  that  their  share  in  the  great  American 
feast-day  need  be  confined  to  going  to  church  in  the 
morning  and  eating  more  dinner  than  is  good  for  them 
afterwards.  Instead  of  this,  they  should  make  their  in- 
fluence felt  by  taking  upon  themselves  the  ornamental 
part  of  the  celebration. 

The  boys  and  girls  may  have  a  charming  expedition  in 
search  of  the  ferns  that  even  so  late  as  this  are  green  in 
sheltered  spots,  and  may  load  themselves  down  with  soft 
gray  and  deep  green  mosses,  running  cedar,  bittersweet, 
pine  cones,  and  scarlet-berried  partridge- vines,  winter- 
green,  and  dog: wood.  Even  the  red  rose  hips  will  prove 
decorative.  The  children  who  live  in  the  country  will 
find  these  treasures  almost  at  their  doors,  but  even  near  a 
great  city  like  New  York  there  are  such  sylvan  ivi< 
as  Pelham  Bay  Park  and  the  banks  of  the  Bronx,  where 
nature  is  as  wild  as  though  the  nearest  town  were  a  hun- 
dred miles  away. 

There  is  an  especial  fitness  in  having  the  adornments 


46 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


of  the  Thanksgiving  table  native  to  the  soil— hardy  out- 
door plants  that  testify  to  the  character  of  the  pioneers  who 
founded  the  feast.  Pine,  spruce,  and  hemlock  branches, 
studded  with  vines,  may  be  grouped  over  pictures  and  in 
niches,  streamers  of  running  cedar  may  festoon  the  cor- 
nices and  strangle  down  over  the  curtains,  great  plumy 
bunches  of  dried  golden-rod  may  stand  in  tall  vases,  and 
the  table  itself  will  need  no  more  beautiful  decoration 
than  the  drooping  jewel  clusters  of  the  bittersweet,  the 
feathery  sprays  of  the  seecfed-out  clematis,  the  hardy 
green  of  the  winter  ferns,  and  the  spicy  brightness  of  the 
partridge  and  checker  berries  gleaming  from  the  beds  of 
moss  in  which  they  grew.  A  big  flat  dish  filled  with 
these  ma, y  balance  the  low  bowl  in  which  the  other  larger 
berries  and  ferns  are  arranged.  There  is  a  fine  chance 
1  here  for  the  exercise  of  taste  and  for  the  display  of  quaint 
and  graceful  fancies.  A  very  charming  picture  of  a  bit 
of  woodland  may  be  put  before  the  guests. 

Important  as  the  floral  decoration  may  be,  it  is  but  a 
small  part  of  all  that  lies  within  the  power  of  the  young 
people  to  do  for  the  Thanksgiving  feast.  The  fruit  must 
receive  its  meed  of  attention.  To  hold  it  a  big  pumpkin 
may  be  hollowed  out,  the  edge  cut  into  points  or  scal- 
loped, and  in  this  leaf  or  fern  or  paper-lined  fruit-dish 
should  be  heaped  golden  and  rosy  apples,  green  and 
russet  pears,  and  bunches  of  purple,  crimson,  and  amber 
grapes — all  fruits  that  nourish  on  New  England  soil.  The 
pumpkin-basket  may  rest  in  a  bed  of  moss  or  running 
cedar  in  the  middle  of  the  table.  On  either  side  of  it 
may  be  horns  of  plenty  flowing  over  with  white  and 
black  walnuts  and  butternuts,  ready  cracked,  chestnuts, 
and  the  tiny  sweet  three-cornered  beech-nuts.  Checker- 
berries,  their  vivid  pink  softened  by  their  green  and 
bronze  leaves,  should  be  placed  here  and  there  in  tiny 
dishes  at  a  safe  distance  from  the  pumpkin  centre  piece. 
Other  small  dishes  may  hold  salted  and  sugared  peanuts  — 
which,  if  they  are  not  native  to  New  England,  are  still 
distinctively  American — and  simple  home-made  candies. 
Trench  bonbons  and  confiseries  are  out  of  their  element 
at  such  a  banquet  as  this. 

Upon  the  dinner-cards  and  favors  the  young  people's 
best  ingenuity  may  be  lavished.  The  ordinary  square  or 
oblong  white  or  tinted  dinner-card  should  be  used,  and 
the  skill  of  the  artist  may  render  it  a  valuable  souve- 
nir. Subjects  for  the  pictures  are  easily  found.  A  vi- 
gnette of  a  log  cabin  half  buried  in  the  snow,  or  of  a  ship 
ploughing  her  way  through  stormy  seas;  a  figure  of  a 
sweet-faced  Puritan  maiden  at  her  spinning-wheel;  a 
spray  of  trailing  arbutus,  a  shock  of  corn,  or  a  single 
stalk  of  maize;  a  realistic  sketch  of  a  turkey,  or  of  a 
pumpkin,  or  of  a  mince  pie — all  these  and  many  others 
will  readily  suggest  themselves  to  any  girl  who  is  skilful 
with  water-colors  or  India-ink  and  sepia.  The  effect  is 
still  more  charming  where  each  picture  can  be  accom- 
panied with  an  appropriate  quotation,  such  as  "The  dam- 
sel Priscilla,  the  loveliest  maiden  of  Plymouth,"  for  the 
Puritan  maiden;  "The  glimmering  sail  of  the  J/«y- 
flower. "  for  the  pictured  vessel ;  "When  the  frost  is  on 
tlie  punkin,"  and  "  Tbe  friend  of  man,  Mendamin,"  for 
the  pumpkin  and  the  maize;  "Let  good  digestion  wait 
on  appetite,"  for  the  mince  pie ;  "  The  pale  arbutus  in  our 
woods  wakes  .  .  .  beneath  the  dead  year's  leaves,"  for  the 
pink  spring  blossom. 

Tbe  favors  need  not  be  expensive,  but  they  should,  if 
possible,  carry  out  the  same  general  idea  of  national  and 
harvest  products.  An  ear  of  ripe  yellow  or  red  corn  in 
which  is  set  a  thermometer  would  do  for  one,  a  pin- 
cushion in  the  shape  of  a  small  pumpkin  or  of  a  gone-to- 
seed  sunflower,  a  sunflower  or  autumn-leaf  pen-wiper,  for 
others.  It  is  all  the  better  if  the  favor  is  chosen  with 
reference  to  the  tastes  or  whims  of  the  person  for  whom 
it  is  intended — as  a  cornstalk  flute  for  a  musician,  a  pen- 
wiper for  the  person  of  literary  tastes,  and  so  on.  Paste- 


board boxes  in  such  fanciful  shapes  as  tiny  pumpkins, 
red  apples,  and  miniature  mince  or  pumpkin  pies  also 
make  pretty  favors,  especially  when  filled  with  sugared 
peanuts. 

The  family  which  is  so  happy  as  to  possess  a  member 
with  the  knack  of  stringing  verses  together  should  set 
their  rhymester  to  work  to  compose  a  bit  of  humorous 
verse  to  accompany  each  favor.  If  this  can  be  made  to 
take  a  personal  tone  that  is  amusing  without  being  iil- 
natured,  there  is  a  fair  security  that  even  if  there  is  not 
very  much  wit,  there  will  at  least  be  plenty  of  laughter, 
which  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield  assures  us  answers  the  end 
as  well. 

In  most  households  it  is  hardly  feasible  that  the  cos- 
tumes of  the  diners  should  imitate  those  of  their  fore- 
fathers and  foremothers.  Yet  there  are  homes  in  which 
are  treasured  quaint  old  garments  of  a  by-gone  time 
which  should  surely  be  aired  on  a  day  like  this.  Or  girls 
of  deft  fingers  can  by  the  help  of  kerchief  and  cap  array 
themselves  somewhat  in  the  fashion  of  the  Puritan  maid- 
ens of  the  long  ago.  For  the  boys  it  is  less  easy  to  pro- 
vide garments  that  will  make  them  modern  reproduc- 
tions of  the  Pilgrim  fathers.  The  knee-breeches,  long 
hose,  and  even  the  "  buckled  shoon  "  might  be  achieved 
in  these  days  of  knickerbockers  and  bicycle  or  golf  stock- 
ings, but  the  tail-coats,  flapped  waistcoats,  and  other  cloth- 
ing for  the  upper  part  of  the  body  are  seldom  found  ex- 
cept at  the  professional  costumer's,  and  there  one  does 
not  care  to  seek  them.  The  day  can  be  fitly  honored 
in  modern  dress,  and  if  heirlooms  or  home  talent  cannot 
supply  the  antique  garb,  it  is  not  worth  while  to  procure 
it  elsewhere. 

Even  in  those  families  where  strict  temperance  is  the 
rule,  sweet  cider  is  generally  permitted  on  Thanksgiving 
day.  Fate  is  rarely  so  kind  as  to  have  left  in  the  keep- 
ing of  a  family  the  silver  or  pewter  tankards  or  mugs 
from  which  our  ancestors  quaffed  stronger  drink.  But 
the  milder  liquid  is  no  less  delicious  when  poured  ice-cold 
from  glass  pitchers,  and  the  young  feasters  should  have 
arranged  toasts  to  be  drunk  and  speeches  to  be  made  in 
response.  Among  these  may  be  toasts  to  "The  Pilgrim 
Fathers — and  Mothers,"  "The  Pilgrim  Sons  and  Daugh- 
ters," "To  the  Inventor  of  Pumpkin  Pie,"  or  of  any 
other  New  England  dainty;  and  in  the  families  that  trace 
their  descent,  however  remotely,  from  any  one  of  the  old 
worthies,  there  is  little  doubt  that  the  memory  of  that 
ancestor  will  be  honored  by  a  toast. 

While  music  is  not.  always  invoked  to  add  to  the 
pleasures  of  a  Thanksgiving  dinner,  there  are  several 
ways  in  which  it  may  be  introduced.  The  grace  before 
meat  may  take  the  form  of  the  long -metre  doxology, 
"  Praise  God  from  Whom  all  blessings  flow,"  sung  by  all. 
standing  behind  their  chairs  at  the  table.  And  between 
the  courses,  or  when  the  dessert  comes  011,  the  musical 
member  of  the  family  who  is  not  afraid  of  the  sound  of 
his  or  her  own  voice  in  a  solo  may  rise  and  sing  "The 
breaking  waves  dashed  high,"  or  "The  Pilgrim  fathers, 
where  are  they?"  And  if  the  singer  is  a  girl,  and  can  be 
clad  as  a  Pilgrim  daughter  would  have  been,  the  perform- 
ance will  be  all  the  more  charming.  Even  "America," 
or  that  well-worn  old  song  of  our  mothers  and  grandmo- 
thers, "Over  the  mountain  wave,  hither  they  come,"  is 
stirring,  if  all  join  in  singing  it  at  the  close  of  the  feast. 

The  end  of  the  Thanksgiving  day  does  not,  as  a  rule, 
carry  out  the  promise  of  its  beginning.  Every  one  has 
eaten  a  hearty  dinner,  and  that,  too,  in  the  middle  of  the 
day.  when  luncheon  is  usually  served.  A  walk  in  the 
afternoon  fails  to  entirely  overcome  tlie  effects  of  oyster 
soup,  chicken  pie,  roast  turkey,  cranberry  sauce,  mince 
and  pumpkin  pies,  and  a  variety  of  accompaniments. 
There  is  little  appetite  for  the  light  supper  that,  more  for 
form  than  anything  else,  is  served  at  seven  o'clock,  and 
unless  there  is  a  large  enough  family  party  to  make  up 


NOVEMBER  20,  1394. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


47 


a  little  dance  in  the  evening,  the  day  threatens  to  close 
in  a  gloom  that  blots  out  thoughts  of  thankfulness. 

The  mother  who  owns  a  large  roomy  kitchen  does  a 
deed  of  charity  when  she  permits  her  young  people  to 
ask  the  boys  and  girls  who  are  also  suffering  from  the 
prevailing;  Thanksgiving  after-dinner  depression  to  spend 
the  evening  in  a  merry  old-fashioned  candy-pull.  The 
only  stipulation  should  be  that  the  servants,  who  have 
already  given  more  than  a  full  day's  labor,  should  not  bei 
further  taxed,  but  that  all  the  work  should  be  done  by 
those  who  are  to  enjoy  the  frolic. 

There  will  be  no  need  of  fine  dressing-,  for  big  aprons 
must  cover  and  protect  the  raiment  of  both  boys  and 
girls.  The  lingering  effect  of  the  big  dinner  and  the 
constant  tasting  of  the  candy  will  make  supper  unneces- 
sary— unless,  indeed,  the  young  people  choose  to  amuse 
themselves  by  roasting  apples,  roasting  or  boiling  chest- 
nuts, and  popping  corn. 

The  character  of  the  day  must  be  maintained  to  the 
last.  No  French  candies  can  be  permitted,  but  in  their 
place  the  time-honored  taffy,  the  creamy  sticks  of  well- 
pulled  molasses  candy,  the  mellow  sweetness  of  butter- 
scotch, and  that  sticky,  indigestible,  and  altogether  deli- 
cious compound,  peanut,  hickorynut,  or  butternut-and- 
mol  asses  bar. 


THE  CONDUCTOR'S  BIRD  STORY. 

ON  the  great  railway  trunk-lines  we  conductors  constantly 
meet  \\ilh  poorly  dressed  people  who  Lave  spent  their 
money,  not  for  clothes  nor  apparently  for  homes,  but  for  railway 
tickets  that  are  a  yard  in  length,  that  cost  as  much  as  I  get  a 
iuonth,and  that  require  almost  half  that  time  to  ride  out.  And, 
singularly,  the  number  of  children,  bird-cages,  etc., to  be  dans- 
ported  as  necessary  incidents  of  the  long  journey  seem  never  to 
deter  the  undertaking  of  it. 

I  was  bound  East  one  day  on  my  run — a  Lake  Shore  flier  be- 
tween Erie  and  Buffalo.  Just  after  leaving  Erie,  a  bird  belong- 
ing to  a  passenger  of  the  class  described  escaped  from  its  cheap 
•cage.  There  was  a  rustle  of  excitement  among  the  passengers, 
that  was  not  allayed  by  the  shriek  which  came  from  the  bird's 
female  owner  to  ''close  them  winders  quick." 

A  hall-dozen  men  by  turns  took  spasmodic  shies  at  the.  es- 
caped prisoner,  guided  in  their  actions  by  the  olhcions  orders 
of  a.  female  passenger — another  long -journey  traveller,  who 
-Shouted  that  the  bird  must  bo  caught,  for  she'd  ••  I'eel  jest  dred- 
ful  'f 'twuz  her  Chippie!" 

At  last  one  heroic  man  more  agile  than  the  rest  turned  the 
empty  cage  upside  down  against  the  car  ceiling  at  exactly  the 
right  moment,  captured  the,  truant,  and  received  a  hearty 
cheer. 

Quiet  reigned  for  perhaps  a  dozen  miles.  Then  one  of  the 
five  children  of  the  woman  who  had  superintended  the  catch- 
ing of  the  first  bird  stuck  a  foot  into  the  cage  of  "  Chip- 
pie" — with  the  logical  consequence.  Down  had  to  go  the  win- 
dows again,  and  up  had  to  come  the  shrill- voiced  voiiiau,  this 
time  to  superintend  the  catching  of  her  own  pet. 

The  car  was  in  a  general  titter.  One  man  suggested  the  ap- 
pointment of  a  permanent  bird-catcher  for  the  train.  Another 
shouted  to  me,  as  I  entered  the  car  to  puuch  the  tickets,  to  shut 
the  transom  above  the  door,  else  all  would  be  lost !  But  "  ( 'hip- 
pie" was  difficult  of  capture,  and  its  owner  even  more  difficult 
of  control. 

There  was  a  universal  call  for  the  man  who  caught  the  first 
bird.  In  response,  that  person  came  modestly  forward  and 
caught  the  second  bird,  but  not  until  he  bad  spent  fully  an 
hour  in  chasing  the  truant  up  and  down  the  ear,  now  under  the 
.stove,  now  under  a  seat-,  and  now  above  the  heads  of  the  pas- 
sengers. At  last  successful,  for  which  he  received  dicers  that 
were  nothing  short  of  an  ovation,  he  retired,  a  wilted-collar  hero 
•of  two  conflicts. 

In  those  days  our  train  was  halted  in  the  Buffalo  yards,  and 
there  divided,  a  part  going  on  East,  and  the  balance  into  Ex- 
change .Street  Depot.  Some  of  the  passengers  changed  into 
other  cars.  The  hearty  laughter  over  the  bird-catching  inci- 
dents which  accompanied  the  separations  and  farewells  caused 
the  passengers  in  the  other  cars  to  suspect  a  boarding-school  on 
a  vacation. 


We  were  waiting  for  the  transfer  of  the  baggage.  The  car 
was  at  a  standstill.  -Perfect  quiet  reigned.  Up  iu  the  front 
end  of  the  car,  iu  the  tiny  box  in  which  it  crossed  the  ocean, 
there  was  a  third  bird.  The  Lake  Shore,  I  may  observe,  takes 
an  active  part  in  the  annual  "migration"  of  birds.  A  gentle- 
man who  had  been  the  right-hand  man  of  the  hero  of  the  day 
arose,  walked  down  the  aisle,  and  stopped  opposite  the  seat 
above  which  swung  the  wooden  cage.  Turning,  so  that  he 
faced  everybody,  he  said  to  the  occupant  of  the  seat, 

"  Beg  pardon,  madam,  but  would  you  mind  letting  your  bird 
out,  so  we  can  catch  it?" 


THE    TONIES-DANISH    FOLKLORE. 

THE   TONIES   AS  WOOD-CHOPPEHS. 

ONE  time  the  tonies  went  out  early  in  the  morning  into  the 
forest  to  fell  trees.  Just  as  they  had  got  one  tree  cut  iu  so 
far  that  they  could  pull  it  over  they  noticed  that  they  had  for- 
gotten to  bring  a  rope  with  them.  For  a  long  time  they  didn't. 
know  what  to  do.  At  length  it  was  agreed  that  one  of  their 
number  should  go  up  into  the  tree  and  lay  his  neck  in  a  crotch, 
while  the  others  pulled  at  his  legs,  and  thus  topple  over  the 
tree.  This  was  done;  but  the  plan  wasn't  a  success;  for  just 
at  the  first  pull,  vips!  off  went  the  touy's  head.  It  remained 
fast  up  there  in  the  crotch  of  the  tree,  while  his  body  fell  flat 
upon  the  earth.  The  others  were  greatly  perplexed  at  this ;  but 
as  there  wasn't  anything  else  to  do  they  laid  the,  headless  body 
iu  their  wagon,  drove  to  his  home,  and  there  arrived,  inquired  of 
his  wife  if  her  husband,  when  he  started  off  that  morning,  had 
had  his  head  with  him,  just  as  the  rest  of  them.  At  first  she 
wasn't  sure,  and  went  to  see  if  it  was,  perhaps,  in  his  old  cap, 
which  hung  on  the  peg.  But  then  she  remembered  that  he 
had  eaten  red  cabbage  for  breakfast  just  before,  starting,  and  so 
must  have  had  his  head  on  when  he  went  away.  What  had  be- 
come of  it  since  then  she  couldn't  say. 


A    YOUNG   FISHERMAN'S   SUGGESTIONS. 

HE  took  his  son  a-fishing  on  a  little  mountain   lake, 
To  catch  a  trout  to  fricassee,  or  fry,  or  broil,  or  bake. 
He    took,  likewise,  some     angle -worms,  but    not    a  fish  would 

bite; 
Dame  Fortune  was  a  fickle  jade,  and  kept  far  out  of  sight. 

But  Jimmieboy  enjoyed  it  from  beginning  to  the  end; 

He  had  a  deal  of  confidence  that  luck  would  shortly  mend. 

And    oh,  the    grand    suggestions     that   young   Jimmieboy  did 

make 
That  morning  that  his  daddy  had  no  luck  upon  the  lake! 

"Why  don't  you  bait  your  hook  again?      Perhaps  the  fish  '11 

strike 
If  you  will,  'stead    of  woyuis,  put    on    some    other   food    they 

like. 

D'  yer  think  they'd  bite   at  pancakes  if  you  made  'em  syrupy  ? 
I  sorter  think  perhaps  they'd  like  a  cup  i.'  cambric  tea. 

••  \Vhy  don't  you  tie  an  apple,  on  and  see  it'  they'd  like  that? 
Perhaps  the  woyms  ain't  seasoned,  and  the  fish  don't  like  'em 

fiat ; 

I   wish  I'd  brought  the  Worcestershire  or  the  tubbasker  sauce. 
Perhaps  of  hot  tomallys  they  would  like  to  try  a  course. 

"Next  lime  let's  bring  a  hamper  and  a  good  stout  trolliug- 
line, 

And  pull  it  gently  through  the  lake  I  think  that  would  be 
fine  ; 

For  then  you'd  catch  a   dozen    all  at  once — and  maybe,  too, 

We'd  scoop  the  silver  watch  that  man  lost  here  iu  sixty- 
two." 

All  these  iu  his  soprano  voice  that  little  boy  did  make 
That  day  his  daddy  had  no  luck  upon  the  mountain  lake; 
And  fishers  say  that  in  their  minds  there  isn't  any  doubt 
They  caused  his  father's  bad  luck,  since  they  scared  away  the 
trout. 

For  fish  are  very  sensible — they're  unlike  meu  in  that — 
They  do  not  care  for  seasoning,  and  like  their  dainties  flat. 
Aud  from  the  mere  suggestion  of  tamalcs,  cakes,  and  tea, 
Unless  they  wholly  lose  their  heads,  they're  very  sure  to  flee. 

JOHN  KEXDRICK  BANGS. 


48 


HARPER'S  YOUNG   PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


:~*s   h 


THE    RHINOCEROS,  THE    ELEPHANT,  AND    THE    OX. 
ALL    (sotto   voce).     "  Ou,   WHAT    FUNNY    PLACES    TO    WEAR    'JIM 


HOW  DOMINGO  WENT  FISHING. 

HERE  is  a  fishing  story  brought  back  by  a  traveller  from 
Africa: 

"It  was  on  a  little  steamer  off  Sanga-Tonga,  on  the  coast 
of  Africa,  near  Cape  Lopez,  and  I  was  sitting  with  my  boy 
Domingo  forward  on  the  deck,  looking  at  the  sea,  and  smoking 
my  pipe,  trying  to  kill  time.  In  the -green  and  transparent 
waters  there  played  myriads  of  little  fishes,  chasing  each  other, 
coming  np  to  the,  surface  and  looking  at  us,  and  then  diving 
down  again,  no  doubt  trying  to  kill  time.  The  silent  Domingo, 
who  never  opened  his  mouth  to  speak  unless  he  had  something 
useful  to  communicate,  pointed  his  finger  at  the  little  fish,  aud 
said  : 

"  '  Those  are  good  to  eat.' 

•"No  doubt  of  it,  Domingo,'!  answered.  'But  to  eat  them 
yon  must  first  catch  them.' 

"'Yes,'  he  replied  looking  longingly  at  them. 

"'And  yon  have  managed 
to  lose  the  bag  in  which  were 
our  hooks  and  lines.  What 
arc  we  to  do  then  ?' 

'"Make  some  hooks  and 
lines.' 

"Now  when  you  have  once 
proved  yourself  to  a  boy  a 
man  of  resources,  capable  of 
extricating  yourself  from  diffi- 
culties, his  confidence  in  your 
ability  is  unbounded.  So  it 
wan  that  Domingo  fonud  it 
perfectly  natural  to  tell  me 
to  make  some  hooks  and  lines, 
and  I  felt  constrained  to  exe- 
cute his  commands. 

"On  board  I  found  some 
iron  wire,  a  hammer,  a  file, 
and  a  fire,  aud  after  thirty- 
two  minutes  of  hard  labor  I 
offered  to  Domingo  a  curious- 
looking  sort  of  instrument 
which  in  that  country  might 
pass  for  a  fish-hook.  Ho  re- 
ceived it  with  most  unquali- 
fied delight,  and  then  proceed- 
ed to  bait  it  with  corned  beef 
aud  to  throw  it  out. 

"  In  the  green  anil  trauspar- 
ent  waters  the  little  fishes 
came  up  to  the  surface  in 
1,-iruer  and  larger  numbers, 
watching  Domingo's  opera- 
tions with  an  air  of  interest. 
His  face  wore  a  sort  of  know- 
ing  expression  that  seemed  TOBY,  T,,E  TRICK  ELEPHANT,  IN 

to  say,  '  It  s  all  very  well    for  PEN  AM,  INK. 


you  now,  but  in  a  few  min- 
utes you  won't  be  quite  so  gay. 
Patience!'  But  the  little 
fishes,  011  the  contrary,  became 
much  gayer  wheu  the  line 
was  in  the  water. 

"They  didn't  like  corned 
beef,  aud  the  nose  of  Domingo 
grew  long. 

"After  an  instant  of  reflec- 
tion, the  fisherman  baited  his 
hook  with  a  bit  of  sardine 
preserved  in  oil. 

"Lost  pains!  The  little 
fishes  didn't  like  sardines  in 
oil. 

"Domingo's  nose  took  a 
Grecian  turn ;  he  scratched 
his  head,  and  uttered  a  few 
expressions  in  negro  dialect. 
Then  he  made  a  bait  with  cod- 
lish  ;  but  alas,  the  little  fishes 
didn't  HUe  salt  cod. 

"  This  time  Domingo  was  at 

WEAR   "KM!"  his  wits' end.  Corned  beef, sar- 

dines, and  codfish  were  ev- 
erything that  there  was  eatable  on  board.  He  sat  silent  and 
dejected. 

"'These  little  fishes  would  no  doubt  like  fresh  meat,' I  said 
to  Domingo. 

"  '  I  haven't  any,'  he  said,  sadly. 

"Then  I  couldn't  help  giving  him  the  same  answer  that  he 
had  given  me  a  few  minutes  before  about  the  hooks  aud  lines. 

"'Make  some  fresh  meat,' I  said.  And  you  may  believe  nie 
or  not,  as  you  like,  but  he  did.  With  his  sharp  knife,  from  the 
thick  part  of  his  heel,  a  little  at  one  side  where  the  hard 
flesh  joins  the  tender,  he  proceeded  to  cut  a  little  morsel 
with  which  he  baited  his  hook.  It,  was  apparently  exactly 
what  the  little  fishes  wanted,  for  they  precipitated  themselves 
upon  it  voraciously.  The  results  were  most  satisfactory.  And 
an  hour  later,  in  serving  me  a  delicious  dish  of  fried  fish,  Do- 
mingo said,  proudly, 

"  '  Didn't  I  tell  you  they  were  good  to  eat  ?' 
"'Excellent,'  I  answered.'' 


SF.F.KING     A     UIGHF.R     EDUCATION,    FA  M  II.IARIZF.S     I1IMSKI.F     \\ITII     THE     USR   OF 


HARPE 


VJA 


i 

/  / ,  i . 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 

^15-  _-=-^-*-~i^r-7>""^r-  xs^.      _   •w'jc 


,  1894,  by  HAHPKE  &  BBOTHKRS.     All  Ri2lits  Reserve.1. 


PUBLISHED    WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI. — NO.  787. 


NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY,  NOVEMBER  27,    1894. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO   DOLLARS  A    YBAIl. 


THE     PRIZE     PUMPKIN. 

I!V     SOPHIE     SXYETT. 

NCLE  ICHABOD    ami    Aunt  Drusilla    meant    to   l>e  waste  of  time,  and  lhat  a  boy  ought  to  prefer  hoeing  po- 

verv  kind    to   young    Phineas   ;:ml    lillle    Li/.y    Ann  tatoes  to  going;  fishing. 

hen  they  came,  forlorn  orplians,  to  Ihe  farm  on  Pippin  Aunt  Drusilla  wouldn't  allow  Lizy  Ann  to  go  out  to 
Hill,  but  young  Phineas  found  that  they  had  many  opiu-  play  until  she  had  sewed  or  knit  a  "  sten  t, "  and  she  combed 
ions  with  which  he  could  not  agree.  They  thought  a  the  little  girl's  tow-colored  hair  back  from  her  high  fore- 
boy  ought  to  save  up  for  a  suit  of  clothes  instead  of  a  head  M>  tightly  that  it  seemed  to  keep  her  eyes  wide  open, 
bicycle,  and  put  his  Fourth  of  July  money  into  the  con-  and  braided  it  in  two  tight  little  tails  behind,  and  Lizy 
tribution-box.  They  thought  that  having  fun  was  a  Ann  cried  because  the  girls  said  she  was  not  fashionable. 


u 


50 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


Young  Pkineas  lay  awake  nights  and  planned  to  run 
away;  but,  after  all,  home  is  home,  and  the  world  is  cold 
and  wide. 

"What  you  want  to  do  is  to  get  your  own  way  with- 
out letting  them  know  it,"  said  Pitticus  Brown. 

Pitticus  was  a  tall  boy  with  a  sharp  nose,  and  a  pair  of 
little  sharp  eyes  that  looked  persistently  at  the  nose.  It 
was  the  general  opinion  on  Pippin  Hill  that  Pitticus  was 
"  too  smart";  but  Phineas  thought  this  idea  of  his  might 
be  valuable.  He  remembered  it  when,  in  October,  there 
was  a  great  Jack-o'-lantern  procession  on  the  hill,  and 
Uncle  Ichabod  wouldn't  let  him  have  a  pumpkin  to  make 
a  Jack-o'-lantern  of.  Enoch,  the  hired  man,  did  at  last 
find  a  little  one  that  had  a  speck  in  it,  and  Uncle  Ichabod 
said  he  might  have  it;  but  who  wanted  to  parade  with  a 
lantern  like  that? 

It  happened  on  the  night  of  the  procession  that  Uncle 
Ichabod  and  Aunt  Drusilla  had  gone  over  to  Canterbury 
Four  Corners  to  spend  the  night,  and  Enoch  went  down 
to  the  Bend  to  see  his  girl,  and  Priscilla,  the  hired  girl, 
went  to  bed  with  the  neuralgia. 

Phineas  took  Enoch's  lantern  and  went  out  to  the 
squash-house,  and  there  by  itself  on  a  shelf  in  the  corner 
was  the  great  pumpkin  that  had  taken  the  first  prize  at 
the  State  Agricultural  Fair. 

Phineas's  pocket-knife  was  sharp — it  seems  as  if  knives 
are  sure  to  be  when  one  is  getting  into  mischief  with 
them — and  the  work  was  soon  done:  the  top  cut  off  the 
pumpkin — if  Priscilla's  glue  was  all  that  she  recom- 
mended it  to  be,  that  could  be  fastened  on  so  that  one 
could  still  take  the  pumpkin  up  by  the  stem — the  inside 
scraped  out,  and  delightfully  effective  features  cut  out  in 
the  great  yellow  face.  When  the  candle  was  placed  in- 
side, there  was  a  Jack-o'-lantern  indeed! 

A  great  shout  greeted  it  when  Phineas  joined  the  Pip- 
pin Hill  company;  but  he  was  able  to  hush  it  quickly, 
for  the  boys  were  friends  of  his  and  understood.  He  was 
a  little  afraid  of  Billy  Bostwick,  who  was  considered  en- 
vious, and  who  told  everything  to  his  sister  Maud,  who 
was  Lizy  Ann's  friend.  But  a  boy  must  expect  to  run 
some  risks,  as  Pitticus  Brown  said  (Pitticus  was  at  home, 
afflicted  with  mumps  on  both  sides  at  once;  Phineas 
thought  mumps  was  the  only  thing  that  had  ever  been 
able  to  take  an  unfair  advantage  of  Pitticus  Brown). 

When  the  Pippin  Hill  company  joined  the  procession 
in  the  town  the  great  lantern  was  not  so  conspicuous,  but 
it  still  attracted  much  attention,  and  Phineas  was  very 
proud.  He  had  not  been  able  to  fasten  it  upon  a  pole,  as 
most  of  the  other  boys  had  done  with  theirs,  and  it  was 
very  bulky  and  hard  to  carry,  and  he  was  obliged  to  run 
home  before  the  other  boys  to  glue  the  pumpkin  to  its 
original  shape  before  Enoch  should  return. 

It  was  a  difficult  task  to  fit  the  pieces  exactly,  especially 
when  one  was  in  a  hurry;  and  then  Phineas  was  obliged 
to  fill  the  hollow  pumpkin  with  bran  and  meal,  lest  its 
lightness  should  betray  the  ruin  it  had  suffered.  But 
the  work  was  done  at  last;  and  on  the  shelf,  at  least,  no 
one  would  have  suspected  that  it  was  not  the  solid  pump- 
kin that  had  won  a  prize  at  the  fair. 

At  the  school  recess  the  next  day  Maud  Bostwick  whis- 
pered something  in  Lizy  Ann's  ear,  which  caused  Phin- 
eas's young  sister  to  turn  red  and  white  and  almost  to 
burst  into  tears.  And  in  the  afternoon  Lizy  Ann  car- 
ried to  school  her  blue  bead  necklace  that  grandma  had 
Driven  her  and  gave  it  to  Maud.  (Aunt  Drusilla  thought 
little  of  necklaces,  and  probably  would  not  even  miss  it.) 
Maud  had  great  influence  over  her  brother  Billy,  and 
could  keep  him  from  telling  things. 

At  the  very  first  opportunity  she  could  find,  when  no 
one  was  looking,  Lizy  Ann  went  out  to  the  squash- 
house.  When  she  saw  the  prize  pumpkin  on  the  shelf 
she  uttered  a  little  cry  of  joyful  surprise,  and  felt  an  im- 
pulse to  run  across  the  field  at  once  and  demand  the  re- 


turn of  her  necklace.  But  Lizy  Ann  had^i  prudent  mind, 
and  she  decided  to  investigate  further.  So  she  climbed 
up  and  felt  all  over  the  pumpkin.  To  her  soft  little  fin- 
gers the  lines  that  marked  where  the  Jack-o'-lan tern's 
eyes  and  nose  and  mouth  had  been  were  plainly  to  be 
felt.  Lizy  Ann  prayed  tearfully  that  night  that  Phineas 
might  repent — but  not  be  found  out. 

Lizy  Ann  blushed  painfully  whenever  pumpkins  were 
mentioned,  but  Phineas — as  nothing  happened,  Phineas 
was  forgetting. 

The  day  before  Thanksgiving  Uncle  Ichabod  came 
home  with  a  letter  from  Aunt  Lucetta.  She  was  the 
children's  youngest  aunt,  and  lived  in  Boston.  She  had 
taught  in  the  High  School  in  Plumfield,  and  had  married 
the  master  of  the  school,  and  he  was  now  a  thriving 
young  lawyer  in  the  city.  Uncle  Ichabod  and  Aunt  Dru- 
silla had  visited  them  once,  and  brought  home  wonderful 
accounts  of  the  flat  in  which  they  lived,  where  the  book- 
case was  a  bed  and  the  arm-chair  a  table,  and  everything 
turned  into  something  else  in  the  most  fascinating  mau- 
uer.  It  was  the  dream  of  the  children's  lives  to  visit 
that  wonderful  place. 

AuntLucetta's  letter  was  an  invitation  to  spend  Thanks- 
giving with  her  in  Boston. 

Phineas  thrilled  with  hope  and  fear,  and  Lizy  Ann 
gazed  breathlessly  at  Aunt  Drusilla,  her  mouth  a  round  O. 

Aunt  Drusilla  shook  her  head;  she  was  so  apt  to  shake 
her  head  at  delightful  things.  '' That's  just  like  Lucetty," 
she  said.  "She  don't  stop  to  think  that  there  ain't  room 
for  us  all  to  turn  round  in  that  flat.  But  I  should  kind 
of  like  to  have  the  children  go,  if  we  could  manage  it; 
'twould  be  something  so  new  to  'em."  Aunt  Drusilla 
was  kind  like  that  sometimes,  when  one  least  expected  it. 
"Besides,  it  always  seems  kind  of  an  imposition  to  carry 
'em  over  to  Hiram's,  where  there's  so  many  young  one's 
a'ready." 

"  I  was  calc'latin',"  said  Uncle  Ichabod,  with  provoking 
slowness— "I  was  calc'latin'  that  it  might  be  worth  the 
while  to  send  Enoch  down  to  the  city  with  a  wagon-load 
of  stuff — some  of  them  turkeys  are  uncommon  handsome 
— and  the  children  could  ride  down  'long  of  him." 

Lizy  Ann  fairly  gasped  with  delight.  Dreams  were 
coming  true,  as  if  one  lived  in  a  fairy -book.  Phineas's 
heart  swelled  as  if  it  would  burst  his  jacket,  though  he 
wore  outwardly  as  calm  an  air — to  impress  Lizy  Ann — 
as  if  he  were  in  the  habit  of  going  to  Boston  every  week. 

Joyful  days  of  preparation  followed;  joyful  although 
they  lagged,  and  at  length  came  the  eve  of  the  exciting 
journey. 

They  were  to  start  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  for 
it  was  eighteen  miles  to  Boston,  and  Enoch  must  be  early 
at  the  market  with  his  produce.  The  wagon  was  loaded 
the  night  before,  and  it  was  great  fun  to  be  in  the  barn 
by  lantern-light,  with  every  one  helping. 

"We  must  send  a  fine  large  turkey  to  Lucetty,"  said 
Aunt  Drusilla.  "And  there!  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  pun- 
kins  were  skurce  in  the  city,  and  Lucetty  used  to  like 
punkin  pies;  you  had  better  send  her  the  prize  pun- 
kin." 

''I  declare,  I  b'lieve  I  will;  guess  'twill  astonish  'em 
some!"  said  Uncle  Ichabod,  with  a  chuckle  of  proud  anti- 
cipation. 

Phineas  was  helping  Enoch  to  fill  a  barrel  with  the 
finest  squashes,  and  he  dropped  one  out  of  his  hands 
when  Uncle  Ichabod  said  that.  As  for  Lizy  Ann.  the 
joy  went  out  of  everything  as  suddenly  as  it  did  for  Cin- 
derella when  the  clock  struck  twelve. 

Enoch  brought  the  prize  pumpkin  from  the  squash- 
house  under  his  arm.  Phineas  expected  at  every  mo- 
ment to  see  him  lift  it  by  the  stem;  then  it  seemed  as  if 
everything  in  life  would  depend  upon  the  strength  of 
Priscilla's  glue. 


NOVEMBER  27,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


51 


"Jest  slip  it  into  that  hag-,  Enoch.  I  shouldn't  want  it 
to  get  jammed  or  scratched,"  said  Uncle  Ichabod. 

Enoch  slipped  the  pumpkin  into  a  canvas  potato-bag, 
and  tucked  it  into  the  wagon.  Phineas  drew  a  long 
breath,  and  Lizy  Ann  swallowed  a  hard  lump  in  her 
throat. 

Then  Phineas  had  a  bright  idea;  he  had  heard  Pitticus 
Brown  say  that  "  there  never  was  a  scrape  without  a  way 
out  of  it,"  and  one  wasn't  Pitticus  Brown's  friend  for 
nothing. 

Even  before  the  start  was  made  in  the  early  morning 
— a  very  sleepy  time,  when  even  the  delightful  queerness 
would  scarcely  keep  Lizy  Ann's  eyes  open — Phineas  found 
an  opportunity,  while  Enoch  was  harnessing  the  great 
roan  horses,  Tom  and  Jerry,  to  slip  a  large  squash  into 
the  bag  instead  of  the  pumpkin,  which  he  tucked  away 
under  the  front  seat.  He  would  have  liked  to  leave  it 
behind,  but  Enoch  might  miss  it  on  the  way.  He  threw 
Lizy  Ann's  shawl  carelessl}'  over  it. 

"If  you  want  your  shawl,  you  just  tell  me,"  said 
Phineas  to  her,  gruffly. 

It  is  scarcely  too  much  to  say  that  Lizy  Ann  would 
have  frozen  before  she  would  have  admitted  that  she 
wanted  that  shawl. 

Enoch  stopped  before  the  Brown  farm-house  and  whis- 
tled sharply.  "I  promised  Llewellyn  Brown  that  I'd  carry 
him  down  to  Brockville,"  he  said.  "  I  guess  we  can  stow 
him  in  somewheres.  He's  got  a  chance  to  work  in  a  big 
mauufacturin'  concern  down  there;  they're  smart  fellers, 
them  Brown  boys." 

Llewellyn's  conversation  enlivened  the  long  drive,  and 
diverted  one's  mind  from  the  dreadful  worry  about  that 
pumpkin;  he  was  so  full  of  excitement  and  pride  about 
the  situation  that  he  expected  to  get  in  the  great  manu- 
factory— a  better  opening  in  life  than  often  came  to  a 
Pippin  Hill  boy. 

It  was  not  quite  daylight  when  they  stopped  in  Brock- 
ville, but  the  busy  town  was  already  astir.  Enoch  stopped 
at  the  hotel  on  the  main  street  to  water  his  horses. 

Llewellyn  jumped  out  of  the  wagon,  and  carefully 
lifted  out  the  box  of  butter  which  his  mother  had  sent 
as  a  Thanksgiving  offering  to  Llewellyn's  prospective 
employer. 

"Here,  Llewellyn,  you  cau  have  this  too!"  called 
Phineas,  obeying  a  sudden  impulse,  and  with  a  furtive 
glance  towards  the  stable.  "We — we've  got  a  squash 
to  carry  to  Aunt  Lucetta."  He  drew  the  prize  pumpkin 
out  from  its  concealment. 

Llewellyn's  eyes  grew  wide  with  wonder  and  delight; 
this  would  be  a  belter  propitiatory  offering  than  the  but- 
ter. 

Phineas  kept  an  anxious  eye  on  the  stables  as  Llewel- 
lyn strode  off,  the  pumpkin  under-  one  arm  and  the  box 
of  butter  under  the  other;  lie  turned  a  convenient  corner, 
and  still  Enoch  had  not  appeared.  He  had  not  missed 
the  pumpkin;  it  would  be  very  likely  that  Phineas  could 
now  convey  that  bag  unopened  to  Aunt  Lucetta.  He 
drew  a  long  breath  of  relief;  but  Lizy  Ann's  small  frec- 
kled face  looked  pitifully  drawn,  and  her  wide-open  blue 
eyes  were  full  of  the  horror  of  this  deed  without  a  name. 

Aunt  Lucetta  would  write  a  letter  of  thanks  for  the 
Thanksgiving  presents,  thought  Phineas;  she  might  spe- 
cify the  squash;  then  what  would  they  think  at  Pippin 
Hill  farm?  Why,  that  she  didn't  know  the  difference,  or 
that  the  pumpkin  had  acquired  the  peculiar  power  of  the 
flat's  belongings,  and  turned  into  something  else!  Phiii- 
eas  grinned  broadly  as  this  solution  of  the  difficulty  pre- 
sented itself  to  his  mind,  so  light-hearted  had  he  be- 
come. 

It  was  even  more  easily  managed  than  Phineas  had 
hoped;  he  jumped  out  of  the  wagon  and  seized  the  big 
squash,  in  its  bag,  before  Enoch  had  been  able  to  induce 
Tom  and  Jerry  to  resign  themselves  to  the  electric  cars, 


which  ran  through  the  street  where  Aunt  Lucetta  lived. 
He  and  Lizy  Ann  had  to  take  the  other  things,  too,  be- 
cause Enoch  dared  not  leave  the  horses  long  enough  to 
go  in  the  elevator  up  to  Aunt  Lucetta's  fifth -story  flat. 

A  proud  elevator-boy  made  them  take  their  rough  and 
bulky  packages  to  the  freight  "lift"  in  the  back  of  the 
house,  and  Phineas  cherished  a  wild  hope  that  the  squash 
might  get  lost,  in  which  case  he.  decided — with  onlv  a 
slight  pang  of  conscience,  so  hardened  in  falsehood  had 
he  already  become — to  describe  it  as  a  huge  pumpkin. 

It  came  up  safely,  of  course,  and  Aunt  Lucetta  called 
it  "a  delightful  countrified  squash" — as  if,  thought 
Phineas,  she  were  accustomed  to  squashes  that  grew  on 
pavements.  He  forgot  all  about  it  soon,  in  the  excite- 
ment of  inspecting  this  queer  place  to  live,  so  far  up  in 
the  sky  and  so  small,  with  the  great  city  roaring  around 
it.  Even  Lizy  Ann  forgot  it  when  Aunt  Lucetta  really 
banged  her  hair;  because  her  father-in-law  and  her  sister- 
in-law,  who  were  very  stylish,  were  coming  to  dinner  the 
next  day. 

Aunt  Lucetta's  father-in-law  was  a  manufacturer  in 
Brockville.  Phineas  did  remember  the  pumpkin  when  lie 
heard  this,  although  with  only  a  slight  pang;  there  were 
so  many  manufacturers  in  Brockville.  But  Lizy  Ann 
had  a  more  anxious  mind;  she  forgot  even  the  little  frills 
and  the  big  sash  and  the  bangs  with  which  Aunt  Lucetta 
had  adorned  her,  and  stared  at  Aunt  Lucetta's  father-in- 
law  with  a  fascinated  dread  all  through  the  Thanksgiv- 
ing dinner.  It  seemed  to  her  that  by  tliis  time  all  Brock- 
ville must  be  ringing  with  the  report  that  the  great  prize 
pumpkin  was  only  a  hollow  Jack-o'-lantern.  It  was  no 
comfort  even  to  be  fashionable  when  Phiueas  was  going 
to  be  found  out. 

When  the  dessert  came  on  Aunt  Lucetta's  father-in-law 
sharply  eyed  the  squash  pies. 

"  Ought  to  have  pumpkin  pies  at  Thanksgiving,  Lu- 
cetta," he  said,  with  the  frankness  of  a  well-to-do  father- 
in-law.  "Reminds  me  of  a  saucy  trick  that  was  played 
on  me  yesterday.  There  was  a  fellow  from  Pippin  Hill 
who  had  been  recommended  to  me  as  smart.  I  meant  to 
give  him  a  good  chance.  But  I  hate  a  practical  joke, 
anyway,  and  'twas  such  an  impertinence  in  a  boy  like 
him.  He  brought  me  a  pumpkin  from  home — a  present — 
the  largest  and  finest  pumpkin  I  ever  saw.  I  said  to  my 
cook  that  we'd  have  some  old-fashioned  pumpkin  pies. 
When  she  put  a  knife  into  it,  out  came  a  lot  of  bran  and 
stuff;  the  pumpkin  had  been  scooped  out  and  filled  up 
with  trash.  He  brought  a  box  of  butter  too.  I  suppose 
that  is  tallow.  We've  no  use  for  such  fellows  in  Brock- 
ville; they're  too  smart." 

Phineas  choked,  and  had  to  be  patted  on  the  back  by 
Aunt  Lucetta;  he  said  he  had  swallowed  something1 
hard;  he  guessed  it  was  a  raisin  seed  in  the  pudding. 
But  he  had  sufficient  presence  of  mind  to  scowl  dread- 
fully at  Lizy  Ann,  who  looked  as  if  she  were  going  to 
cry. 

"  I  just  sent  word  to  the  fellow  that  he  wouldn't  suit 
me,"  continued  Lucetta's  father-in-law.  "I  didn't  say 
anything  about  his  pumpkin;  I  wouldn't  give  him  the 
satisfaction." 

Phineas  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief.  He  said  he 
thought  he  would  take  a  piece  of  mince  pie,  and  he  gave 
Lizy  Ann  a  warning  kick  under  the  table.  Llewellyn 
Brown  would  never  know  why  he  had  missed  his  great 
chance  in  life;  Aunt  Lucetta  would  scarcely  think  to 
mention  in  a  letter  that  she  had  received  a  squash  among 
her  Thanksgiving  gifts.  Phineas  ate  his  mince  pie  with 
relish,  and  said  to  himself  that  he  was  about  as  smart  a 
fellow  as  Pitticus  Brown. 

He  wished  that  Lizy  Ann  would  not  look  so  woe- 
begone, and  say  that  she  didn't  care  for  candy  or  nuts. 
Being  only  a  girl,  she  couldn't  understand  that  in  this 
world,  as  Pitticus  Brown  said,  you  had  to  get  there  your- 


52 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


self,  and  you  couldn't  stop  to  look  out  for  the  fellow  that 
was  left  behind. 

Aunt  Lucetta  gave  a  party  for  them  that  night,  and 
the  next  day  her  father-in-law  took  them  to  the  play; 
but  in  spite  of  the  good  times  and  of  all  the  sayings  of 
Pitticus  Brown  that  he  could  recall,  Phineas  couldn't  get 
rid  of  the  thought  of  Llewellyn  Brown  going  home,  dis- 
appointed and  humiliated,  to  the  old  farm-house,  where 
they  were  ill  and  poor,  and  everything  depended  upon 
the  boys.  It  was  in  vain  that  he  said  to  himself  that  he 
was  as  silly  as  a  girl — as  silly  as  Lizy  Ann,  whose  face 
looked  worn,  and  who  followed  him  with  wistful  eyes. 

He  seized  the  coat  tails  of  Aunt  Lucetta 's  father-in-law, 
who  was  entering  the  elevator  for  his  final  departure. 

"I  can't  —  stand  it  —  anyhow!"  he  stammered.  "It 
wa'n't  Llewellyn's  fault — that  scooped-out  punkin  wa'n't 
—'twas  mine !" 

And  out  came  the  whole  story,  with  a  murmured  ac- 
companiment of  excuses  for  Phineas  from  Lizy  Ann. 
Phineas  made  no  excuses  for  himself;  he  told  the  story 
in  a  manly  fashion;  and  the  manufacturer  said:  "  Well, 
well ;  he  believed  he  liked  Pippin  Hill  boys  after  all,  and 
he  would  send  for  Llewellyn  and  give  him  the  place,  and 
if  Phiueas  ever  wauled  a  chance  for  himself,  why,  he 
liked  a  boy  that  would  not  let  another  suffer  for  what  he 
had  done,  no  matter  how  hard  itwas  to  own  up."  Phin- 
eas felt  as  if  he  did  not  deserve  any  praise;  he  had 
come  so  frightfully  near  to  not  owning 
up. 

It  was  great  happiness  to  stop  at  the 
Brown  farm  -  house  on  the  way  home 
and  tell  Llewellyn  that  the  great  chance 
was  his  —  it  seemed  to  fortify  one  for 
that  owning  up  to  Uncle  Ichabod. 

Almost  before  the  first  greetings  were 
over,  before  Aunt  Drusilla  had  decided 
whether  to  be  angry  about  Lizy  Ann's 
little  frills  and  big  sash  and  bangs, 
which  made  her  look  like  a  very  seri- 
ous-minded  doll,  Phineas  stood  forth 
like  a  man  and  told  the  story  of  his 
misdeeds. 

"That  prize  punkin  for  a  Jack-o'- 
lantern!  Well,  I  wouldn't  V  believed 
you'd  'a'  darst  to  do  it!"  cried  Uncle 
Ichabod.  He  was  so  overcome  that  he 
dropped  heavily  into  his  arm-chair. 

"Aunt  Lucetta's  father-in-law  said 
it  was  the  finest  punkin  he  ever  saw. 
I  guess  they  never  saw  our  punkins 
down  to  Brock ville  before!"  piped  Li/.y 
Ann,  with  the  wisdom  of  the  serpent. 

"I  guess  it  did  astonish  'em  some!" 
chuckled  Uncle  Ichabod,  and  lost  his 
wrath's  sharp  edge  in  the  chuckle.  "I 
ain't  goiii'  to  say  any  more  about  this, 
young  Phineas,  seein'  how  it's  turned 
out,  but  I  in  goin'  to  raise  a  punkin  next 
year  that'll  beat  this  year's  all  hollow, 
and  that  one  won't  be  made  into  no 
Jack-o'-lantern  !" 

"I  declare  them  children  both  look 
real  peaked  and  worn  out,"  said  Aunt 
Drusilla,  pityingly. 

Uncle  Ichabod  shuffled  his  feet  un- 
easily. "  I  never  thought  you  cared  so 
much  about  Jack- o' -  lanterns,  young 
Phineas,"  he  said.  "They're  all  fool- 
ishness anyway.  But  I'll  tell  you  what 
I'll  do:  next  spring  I'll  give  you  and 
Lizy  Ann  a  punkin  patch  of  your  own, 
and  you  can  raise  a  whole  procession  if 
you've  a  mind  to." 


MI!.  GOBBLER'S    STOUY. 

BY  R.  K.  MUNKITTRICK. 

DOWN  behind  the  old  farm-house,  on  the  topmost  limb 
of  the  scraggly  but  picturesque  buttonball,  sat  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Gobbler,  huddled  closely  together,  looking'  across 
the  fading  fields  in  silence.  Beside  them  sat  Willie  Gob- 
bler and  his  dear  little  sisters  Susan  and  Araminta.  It 
was  the  children's  first  autumn,  as  they  had  been  hatch- 
ed into  the  world  some  time  during  the  previous  month 
of  May.  They  looked  upon  the  glowing  foliage  with 
lively  delight — just  as  they  would  have  looked  into  a  toy- 
store  window  if  they  had  been  little  boys  and  girls. 

"Oh,  isn't  this  perfectly  lovely,  papa!"  shouted  Ara- 
minta, flapping  her  glossy  wings  as  a  little  girl  would  have 
clapped  her  hands. 

Mr.  Gobbler  in  reply  only  shook  his  head  gravely, 
while  a  tear  dropped  from  Mrs.  Gobbler's  eye,  for  they 
were  both  thinking  of  Thanksgiving'  and  its  awful  possi- 
bilities. 

"Don't  annoy  your  father  when  he  is  trying  to  rest 
and  collect  his  thoughts,"  said  Mrs.  Gobbler,  petulantly. 

"  I  am  not  annoyed  by  a  little  thing  like  that,"  replied 
Mr.  Gobbler,  as  he  stroked  his  great  old  wattles  as  if  they 
were  side-whiskers.  "  I  am  too  much  accustomed  to  an- 
noyance to  be  worried  by  so  trifling  a  thing.  Haven't  I 
had  fire-crackers  set  off  under  me  when  I  was  asleep  on 


THE    FARMER    PLAYED    ACCORDING    TO    THE    PIG'S    FEET. 


NOVEMBER  27,  1S94. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


53 


THE    BEAR'S    WORK    IN    THE    MOONLIGHT    NIGHT. 


the  wagon-pole?  Haven't  I  had  \vatei1  thrown  on  me 
when  I  was  sitting-  on  the  grass  suffused  with  pleasant 
dreams?" 

"But,  papa,"  asked  Susan,  ''have  you  ever  had  a  fox 
try  to  gather  you  from  the  perch?" 

"Once,  Susan,  and  only  once,"  replied  the  patriarch, 
"and  that  was  when  I  was  a  little  boy,  with  a    tail    no 
longer  than  a  worn-out  duster.     The  fox  stood  on  his  hind 
legs  and  reached  up  and  grabbed  my  tail  feathers,  and  I 
thought  my  end  had   come;    but  by  a 
great  effort  I  flew  out   of  his  mouth, 
and   since    that    time    I   have   always 
perched  upon   the  highest  limb  I  can 
find.      Remember,  my  dear   little  chil- 
dren, that   although     foxes    are    very 
cunning  they  cannot  climb  trees.'' 

Here  the  happy  children  looked 
upon  their  father  with  pleasant  smiles, 
and  the  old  gentleman  waved  his  wat- 
tles, and  looked  into  the  hazy  distance 
as  if  very  proud  of  his  great  wisdom. 
While  Mr.  Gobbler  was  thus  lost  in 
deep  reflection,  Willie  asked, 

"Come  now.  papa,  won't  you  tell 
us  a  nice  little  story  before  we  tuck  our 
heads  under  our  wings  for  the  night?" 

"  I  have  told  you  all  the  stories  I 
know  long  ago,  and  I'm  feeling  very 
sleepy." 

"Then  tell  us  one  of  the  old  ones; 
tell  us  the  one  about  the  little  pig 
that  danced  a  jig  while  the  farmer 
played  the  fiddle,"  pleaded  Willie. 

"Oh  yes,"    chimed  in    Araminta — 


"the  little  pig  that  danced  a  jig  while  the  farmer  play- 
ed the  fiddle.  It  is  such  a  nice  Thanksgiving  story." 

"See  here,"  replied  Mr.  Gobbler,  severely,  "don't  you 
allude  to  Thanksgiving  again,  unless  you  want  my  fea- 
thers to  fly  out  by  the  roots,  and  my  wattles  to  lash  them- 
selves into  spoonfuls  of  cranberry  sauce." 

"Then  tell  us  the  story,  papa  dear,  and  we  shall  all  be 
good  little  turkeys." 

Mr.  Gobbler  then  looked  furtively  about  him,  as  if 
anxious  to  find  some  loop-hole  of  escape.  He  had  told 
them  the  story  so  many  times  that  he  deeply  regretted  the 
fact  that  he  had  ever  related  it  at  all.  And  the  worst  of 
it  all  was  that  it  was  a  Thanksgiving  story  that  he  could 
only  enjoy  telling  in  May.  So  while  he  sat  in  silence, 
hoping  the  little  turkeys  would  fall  asleep,  one  of  them 
saiil  : 

"  Come  now,  papa,  you  can't  get  out  of  it  in  that  way; 
we  want  to  hear  the  story  of  the  little  pig  that  danced  a 
jig  while  the  farmer  played  the  fiddle." 

So,  seeing  there  was  no  use  trying  to  evade  the  sub- 
ject further,  Mr.  Gobbler  began  "Once  upon  a  time 
there  was  a  happy-go-lucky  farmer  who  had  a  cunning 
little  pig — 

"Pardon  me.  papa,  but  the  lasl  time  you  told  the  story 
the  pig  had  a  black  spot  on  one  side  of  his  face." 

"Haven't  I  often  told  you,"  broke  in  Mrs.  Gobbler, 
petulantly,  "that  you  shouldn't  interrupt  any  one,  espe- 
cially an  elder, when  speaking?  You  must  remember  this 
injunction  if  you  would  be  polite  and  refined  turkeys 
when  you  are  grown." 

"But,  mamma  dear,"  protested  Willie,  with  a  crest- 
fallen air.  "  I  began  by  saying  'pardon  me.'" 

"  I  had  forgotten  that  when  I  spoke, "said  Mrs.  Gobbler, 
with  an  applogetic  smile.  Then  she  returned  her  hus- 
band's glance,  and  said,  "  Now  tell  them  the  story,  Or- 
lando." 

"Once  upon  a  time,"  continued  Mr.  Gobbler,  "there 
was  a  happy-go-lucky  farmer  who  owned  a  pig  with  a 
black  spot  on  one  side  of  his  face.  The  little  pig  and  the 
farmer  were  very  fond  of  each  other,  and  whenever  the 
tiller  of  the  soil  gave  Nathan — that  was  the  pig's  name — 
a  nice  red  apple,  he  would  be  thanked  in  a  bland  sugar- 
cured  smile  that  rippled  over  the  black  spot  on  the  happy 
porker's  face.  Now  the  reason  that  the  farmer  liked  the 
little  pig  was  all  because  the  pig  was  fond  of  music  and 
could  dance;  and  Nathan  was  equally  fond  of  the  farmer 
because  the  latter  played  on  the  fiddle.  The  farmer  would 
stand  by  the  pen  and  fiddle,  while  the  pig  danced  about 


THR  GOBBLER  FLEW  WITH  FIDDLE  AND  BOW  TO  THE  TOP  OF  A  HIGH  TREE. 


54 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XTL 


in  the  airiest  manner  he  could.  Some  men  play  by  note, 
and  others  by  ear, but  this  farmer  played  according  to  the 
pig's  feet." 

"  What!     Pig-foot  music?"  asked  Araminta. 

"There  you  go  with  another  interruption,"  cried  Mrs. 
Gobbler. 

"  Pig's-foot  time  would  be  more  correct,"  said  Mr.  Gob- 
bler, without  appearing  to  notice  the  interruption;  "  for 
even  as  Nathan  danced  to  the  time  of  the  music,  so  did 
the  farmer  play  to  the  time  of  Nathan's  feet,  while  he 
watched  them  as  he  performed  as  if  they  had  been  notes. 
When  Nathan  stopped  dancing,  the  farmer  had  to  discon- 
linuo  playing,  and  as  he  was  very  fond  of  his  fiddle,  he 
would  give  the  little  porker  another  apple  to  resume. 
Now  the  pig  was  very  fond  of  good  things,  and  when  he 
had  had  all  the  apples  he  wanted  he  would  not  dance 
until  the  farmer  had  given  him  a  lump  of  sugar  in  ad- 
vance. Now  the  farmer  had  also  a  very  fine  old  gob- 
bler of  gentle  demeanor,  whom  he  called  Alexander,  and 
this  gobbler  was  so  fond  of  music  that  he  would  perch 
delightedly  011  a  bar, of  the  pen  while  his  owner  fiddled 
and  Nathan  danced.  He  would  also  sit  on  the  window- 
sill  of  the  farm  kitchen  and  watch  the  fiddle  as  it  hung 
on  the  wall,  and  turn  his  glances  upon  the  farmer,  as  if 
to  ask  him  to  play.  This  was  usually  too  much  Tor  the 
agriculturist,  who  loved  to  perform  upon  his  favorite  in- 
strument, and  the  result  was  that  he  would  take  it  down 
and  move  to  the  sty  even  in  the  moonlight.  Now  you 
know,  my  dear  little  children,  that  it  is  very  wrong  for 
one  to  become  a  slave  to  anything,  whether  it  be  a  fiddle 
or  a  mania  for  collecting  postage-stamps,  because  such 
slavery  tends  to  take  one's  mind  off  other  things  of  greater 
importance.  This  farmer  became  so  great  a  slave  to  the 
fiddling  habit  through  the  encouragement  of  Nathan  and 
Alexander  that  he  neglected  his  work  upon  the  farm. 
He  would  argue  that  if  he  fiddled  all  one  day  and  did 
two  days'  work  in  the  corn-field  on  the  morrow,  a  proper 
average  could  be  maintained.  But  oil  the  morrow  the 
gobbler — I  am  ashamed  of  him  as  an  ancestor — would 
glance  at  the  fiddle,  and  the  pig  would  squeal  for  music, 
and  the  poor  farmer,  through  lack  of  will-power,  would  go 
to  the  penside  and  play  cotillon  after  cotillon  after  the 
pig  had  started  him  with  the  motion  of  his  feet.  Then 
Alexander  would  march  up  and  down  with  martial  pride, 
for  sometimes  he  couldn't  stand  still." 

"  Do  you  think  the  gobbler  was  as  fond  of  music  as  the 
pig?"  asked  Willie. 

"Which  do  you  mean?"  observed  Orlando  Gobbler, 
Esq.,  sarcastically;  "  was  the  gobbler  as  fond  of  music  as 
he  was  of  the  pig,  or  was  the  gobbler  as  fond  of  music 
as  the  pig  was?" 

"  I  didn't  intend  to  be  rude,  papa;  but  when  I  asked 
the  question,  I  wanted  to  know  if  the  pig  and  the  gob- 
bler were  equally  fond  of  music,  that  was  all." 

"  Well,  I  cannot  tell  you  as  much  as  I  should  be  happy 
to  on  this  point,  because  I  only  know  the  story  as  it  was 
told  me  by  your  grandmother,  when  I  was  beneath  her 
wing.  It  was  noticed  by  many  of  his  neighbors  that  the 
farmer  was  fiddling  too  much  and  farming  too  little  for 
his  own  welfare.  The  potatoes  needed  hoeing,  and  the 
tomato  bed  was  choked  with  great  weeds.  The  meadows 
remained  unmowed,  and  the  melons  were  rotting  on  the 
vines.  It  was  predicted  that  the  crops  would  not  fail 
from  the  effects  of  drought,  but  from  too  much  fiddling. 
The  poor  farmer  with  the  ungovernable  weakness  for 
music  was  very  sharply  criticised  by  some  and  pitied  by 
others,  who  regarded  his  case  as  a  very  pathetic  one. 
Many  of  them  tried  to  reason  with  him,  and  point  out  to 
him  the  error  of  his  way.  They  advised  him  to  farm 
during  the  day  and  fiddle  in  the  evening.  But  their  ef- 
forts were  all  in  vain.  As  soon  as  he  arose  he  would  set 
out  for  the  sty  of  the  dancing  pig,  and  fiddle  until  his 
arm  was  sore — " 


"What  was  the  upshot  of  it  all?"asked  Araminta. 

"I  told  you  before  not  to  interrupt  me,"  replied  Mr. 
Gobbler,  with  a  glance  that  showed  how  provoked  he 
was.  "  When  you  break  in  on  me  in  this  way  I  lose  the 
thread  of  the  story,  from  which  alone  you  may  learn  the 
fiddler's  fate." 

Little  Araminta  was  greatly  pained  at  this  rebuke, 
which  made  her  pout.  But  the  pouting  soon  disappeared, 
and  her  father  continued: 

"Everything  went  well  with  the  fiddle  and  wrong 
with  the  farm,  until  the  crops  were  in  such  a  condition 
that  only  immediate  attention  could  save  them.  Still, 
the  fiddling  farmer  continued  to  perform  upon  his  instru- 
ment as  if  his  crops  were  safely  stored  or  profitably  dis- 
posed of.  At  this  time,  on  a  fine  moonlight  night,  a  bear 
sauntered  into  the  barn-yard,  and  having  secured  a  good 
hold  upon  the  pig,  bore  him  swiftly  away  to  the  woods, 
and  devoured  him  in  the  bosom  of  his  family.  On  the 
morrow  the  farmer  was  prostrated  with  grief,  because, 
you  know,  he  had  depended  entirely  upon  the  time  of  the 
pig's  feet  for  his  ability  to  carry  the  tune.  Without  the 
pig  he  couldn't  play — 

"  Didn't  you  say  the  gobbler  Alexander  was  also  very 
fond  of  the  fiddle?"  asked  Willie. 

"I  did,"  replied  Mr.  Gobbler. 

"  Then  what  did  he  do?" 

"  Why,  he  moped  about  the  doorway  and  watched  the 
farmer  as  he  looked  dolefully  at  the  fiddle  on  the  wall," 
responded  Mr.  Gobbler;  "and  one  day  the  farmer  thought 
he  saw  the  gobbler  smiling,  and  this  he  concluded  was  a 
wicked  smile  of  triumph  at  his  woful  state  of  mind.  So 
he  threw  a  pot-stick  at  the  poor  bird,  and  almost  knocked 
the  feet  from  under  it.  The  gobbler  repaired  to  the 
shadow  of  a  convenient  gooseberry-bush  to  think  out  a 
suitable  plan  of  retaliation  ;  and  in  about  an  hour,  when 
the  farmer  had  gone  forth  to  look  for  rain,  the  musically 
inclined  bird  stepped  into  the  kitchen,  took  the  fiddle  and 
bow  from  the  nail  on  the  wall,  and  flew  with  both  to  the 
top  of  a  high  tree  in  the  middle  of  an  adjoining  wood. 
When  the  farmer  knew  that  his  fiddle  had  gone,  probably 
to  join  the  pig,  he  went  to  work  to  forget  his  trouble. 
He  hoed  and  raked  and  weeded,  and  it  was  not  a  great 
while  befo:-e  his  farm  was  in  a  flourishing  condition.  He 
saved  all  the  crops,  and  that  winter  his  family  had  plen- 
ty of  johnny  -  cake  and  pumpkin  pie.  He  repented  his 
weakness  for  the  fiddle;  and  one  day  in  the  rosy  autumn, 
when  the  mellow  light  of  Indian-summer  glimmered  on 
the  fields,  whom  should  the  farmer  happen  to  see  but  the 
music-loving  gobbler  sleeping  on  a  sapling.  You  know, 
the  gobbler  kept  out  of  his  way  after  the  theft  of  the  fid- 
dle; and  when  the  farmer  saw  him,  it  reminded  him  of 
his  foolish  weakness  for  his  stringed  instrument.  And 
when  he  connected  these  painful  thoughts  with  his  pros- 
perity that  shone  on  every  side  in  groaning  bin  and  larder, 
he  killed  the  gobbler  and  had  a  Thanksgiving  feast." 

"  And  now,  my  dear  children,"  said  Mrs.  Gobbler,  "  the 
moon  is  rising,  and  it  is  time  to  retire  for  the  night.  One, 
two,  three!" 

At  the  word  "  three"  they  tucked  their  heads  beneath 
their  wings,  and  were  soon  lost  in  pleasant  dreams. 


TT)IK  well  tor  you  you  are  a  Yankee  boy, 

-L    And  in  tlir.  English  tongue  express  your  thoughts, 
For  have  you  ever  thought  how  'twould  anuoy 
If  these  were  penned  in  tongues  of  foreign  ports? 

Suppose,  for  instance,  yon  in  German  spoke, 
Or  e'en  in   Spanish   had   to  say  your  say; 

Suppose  o'er  Russian  words  you'd  madly  choke, 
Or  put  your  sentences  in  pure  Franc.ais! 

I  shud:ler  when  I  think  how  it  would  be 

If  you  dropped  English  and  spoke  thus  instead; 

For  neither  pa,  nor  inn,  nor  nurse,  you  see, 
Could  understand  a  single  word  you  said. 


GREAT    STATE     PAPERS. 


BY     HENRY    CLEMENT    HOLMES. 


I.— TITLES     TO     OUR     TERRITORY. 


YEARS  ago,  when  I  was  in  a  history  class  at  school, 
[  Tom  Fellows,  the   brightest  member  of   it,  was   re- 
lating an  incident  of  the  Revolutionary  war,  when  the 
teacher  asked, 

"  What  ended  that  struggle— officially  ended  it?" 

Tom  hesitated.  "Why,"  he  said  at  last,  "fighting 
censed,  and  we  were  free,  I  suppose." 

"But  had  Great  Britain  chosen  at  any  time  to  renew 
the  conflict,  was  there  anything  to  pre- 
vent her   from  doing  so?"  inquired  the 
teacher. 

Tom  stood  while  he  thought,  and  Fred 
Breiinerman  raised  his  hand. 

"  I  think  Great  Britain  wrote  us  a  let- 
ter, telling  us  we  were  free,"  he  said. 

"A  letter?  That  would  have  read 
something  like  this,"  said  the  teacher, 
scarcely  able  to  conceal  a  twinkle  in  his 
eye: 

"  LONDON. 
"  Brother  Jonathan  : 

"DEAR  SIR, — You  are  free. 

"  Yours  for  peace,        JOHN  BULL." 

The  class  burst  into  a  laugh. 

If  you  were  called  upon  to  draw  up  a 
contract  between  Great  Britain  on  one 
side  and  the  United  States  on  the  oth- 
er, how  would  you  begin  it?  Whom 
would  you  have  sign  it?  What  man  is 
empowered  to  write  his  name,  and  by 
that  act  bind  all  of  us  sixty-five  million 
Americans? 

Contracts  between  nations  are  formal 
affairs,  not  alone  in  themselves,  but  in 
the  preparations  for  executing  them.  It 
would  not  have  taken  George  III.  of 
Great  Britain  long  to  write  a  letter  to 
"Brother  Jonathan  telling  him  he  was 
free.  But  such  a  letter  would  not  have 
satisfied  even  democratic  Jefferson, 
much  less  British  royalty. 

There  were  many  things  to  do  af- 
ter we  had  whipped  the  Hessians  and 
got  possession  of  Corn  wall  is's  sword. 
Tbe  first  thing  was  to  get  from  the  King  of  England  a 
statement  that  he  and  his  ministers  were  willing  formal- 
ly to  acknowledge  American  independence.  When  this 
was  done  three  American  commissioners  went  to  Paris,  in 
order  to  be  upon  neutral  territory,  and  there  they  met  one 
David  Hartley,  who  had  been  named  by  the  King  to  rep- 
resent Great  Britain.  Each  spent  some  time  examining 
the  other's  credentials,  to  see  that  tbey  were  treating  with 
the  right  parties.  When  fully  satisfied  on  this  important 
matter,  they  took  a  few  sheets  of  common  and  rather 
coarse  white  paper,  nine  by  fifteen  inches  in  size  and 
folded  once,  and  at  the  top  of  the  first  page  of  it  they 
wrote,  in  a  coarse  and  crude  hand,  "In  the  name  of  the 
most  holy  and  undivided  Trinity." 

Leaving  a  space  of  about  an  inch,  they  began  in  a  little 
smaller  but  a  not  less  crude  hand : 

"It  having  pleased  the  Divine  Providence  to  dispose 
the  heart  of  the  Most  Serene  and  Most  Potent  Prince 
George  the  Third,  by  the  Grace  of  God  King  of  Great 
Britain,  France,  and  Ireland,  Defender  of  the  Faith,  and 
Prince  of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire,  and  the  United  States 
of  America  to  forget  all  past  misunderstandings  and  dif- 
ferences that  have  unhappily  interrupted  the  good  cor- 


respondence and  friendship  which  they  mutually  wish  to 
restore,"  etc. 

Writing  in  unbroken  lines  across  the  entire  page,  on 
both  sides  of  the  paper,  and  frequently  referring  each  to 
the  other  as  "High  Mightinesses,"  these  commissioners 
filled  nearly  four  sheets  of  the  paper,  and  at  the  end  they 
signed  their  names.  David  Hartley  signed  first,  and  lie 
placed  his  name  away  up  in  the  left-hand  corner,  just 


THE    TREATY    OF    VERSAILLES. 


under  the  last  line  of  the  text,  where  it  appears  almost 
crowded  off  the  paper  by  the  names  of  the  American 
signers,  John  Adams,  Benjamin  Franklin,  and  John  Jay. 

They  tied  the  sheets  together  with  some  very  narrow 
and  very  cheap  blue  ribbon,  the  ends  of  which  they  fast- 
ened to  the  paper  with  patches  of  red  sealing-wax.  This 
wax  they  needlessly  burned  in  placing  it  just  at  the  left 
of  their  signatures. 

This  is  the  Definitive  Treaty  of  Versailles,  now  yellow 
and  faded.  By  it  Great  Britain  formally  renounced  all 
claim  to  the  thirteen  original  States.  These  four  sheets 
of  cheap  paper,  with  their  "  High  Mightinesses,"  their 
"Most  Potents,"  and  their  faded  blue  ribbon,  constitute 
the  official  close  of  the  Revolutionary  war. 

At  the  beginning  of  this  century  France  owned  Louisi- 
ana, and  the  United  States  sought  to  buy  a  bit  of  territory 
on  the  east  bank  of  the  Mississippi  River  at  the  very  time 
that  Napoleon  wanted  money  to  destroy  England's  mer- 
chant marine.  Napoleon  replied  that  for  a  round  sum 
lie  would  sell  Louisiana — the  whole,  and  not  a  part  of  it — 
and  that  the  quicker  the  bargain  was  made  the  better  it 
would  suit  him. 

Our  treaty  purchase  of  Louisiana  is  written  wholly  in 


56 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


French,  and  though  affecting  millions  of  Enylis 
ing  people,  it  lias  never  been  officially  translated  into 
English.  It  is  written  upon  eight  pages  of  very  white, 
and  even  now  very  fresh,  paper.  But  it  does  not  fill  the 
pages,  because  the  engrosser  of  it  began  well  to  the  right 
of  the  page,  and  allowed  his  lines  to  run  badly  up  hill. 

There  are  many  expressions  of  love  contained  in  it. 
Indeed,  the  whole  treaty  is  most  extravagant  in  the  use 
of  terms  of  mutual  admiration.  The  shrewd  First  Con- 
sul did  not,  however,  forget  the  business  part  of  the  trans- 
action. Attached  to  this  extraordinary  record  of  inter- 
national puffery  is  a  practical  document — a  sort  of  awak- 
ening to  the  prose  of  dollars  and  cents — by  which  the 
United  States  agrees  to  pay  France  a  large  sum  of  money. 
The  amount,  carefully  stated,  is  60,000,000  francs. 

But  it  was  a  capital  bargain  for  the.  purchaser.  These 
sheets  of  paper  represent  the  title-deed  to  almost  all  of  our 
national  territory  lying  west  of  the  Mississippi  River.  It 
is  signed  by  Marbois  on  behalf  of  Napoleon,  First  Consul 
of  France,  and  by  James  Monroe  and  Robert  Livingston 
for  the  United  States.  There  are  no  ribbons  through  the 
seals,  and  the  sheets  are  not  fastened  together.  By  this 
bargain,  told  in  a  few  up-hill  lines  in  a  foreign  tongue,  we 
added  more  square  miles  of  territory  to  our  domain  than 
we  did  by  winning  the  war  for  independence  and  nego- 
tiating the  more  formal  Treaty  of  Versailles. 

If  you  were  buying  a  new  State  for  our  Union,  and 
had  a  King  for  one  client  and  several  millions  of  sover- 
eign people  for  the  other,  and  chanced  to  begin  writing 
the  contract  with  the  wrong  words,  you  would  throw 
aside  the  sheet  of  paper,  especially  if  it  were  coarse  and 
cheap,  take  a  new  one,  and  begin  again.  The  man  who 
drew  up  the  treat}'  by  which  we  acquired  the  State  of 
Florida  was  not  so  particular.  He  took  some  exceeding- 
ly poor  paper,  eight  by  twelve  inches  in  size,  and  began 
to  write.  He  wrote  some  wrong  words,  ran  his  pen 
through  them,  and  began  again.  The  lines  he  divided  in 
the  middle  of  the  page,  and  he  made  the  paragraphs  to 
correspond  in  length.  The  lines  on  the  left-hand  half  of 
the  page  are  made  up  of  English  words;  on  the  right, 
those  of  Spanish  words.  Of  course  both  lines  say  the 
same  thing. 

The  King  of  Spain  is  not  mentioned  by  name,  but  by 
the  title  of  "His  Catholic  Majesty.''  The  writing  is  on 
both  sides  of  the  sheet,  which  is  folded  once — at  the  left — 
and  the  edges  are  now  much  frayed.  The  sheets  are  tied 
with  very  narrow  lavender  ribbon.  Attached  to  the 
treat}'  is  the  ratification,  signed  by  Ferdinand  011  the 
Spanish  half  of  the  page,  and  by  John  Quincy  Adams 
and  James  Monroe  on  the  English  half. 

The  President's  proclamation,  announcing  the  purchase 
and  its  ratification  by  the  United  States  Senate,  is  at- 
tached. Curiously  enough,  another  mistake  was  made 
in  beginning  the  proclamation.  The  clerk  wrote  the 
President's  private  name,  and  followed  it  with  his  title. 
But  Presidential  proclamations,  from  Washington  to 
Cleveland,  have  always  begun,  l;  By  the  President  of  the 
United  States  of  America,  A  Proclamation.'1  So  the  clerk 
scratched  out  the  President's  name,  and  between  the  ugly 
erasures  wrote  in  the  correct  words. 

It  has  many  times  happened  that  Secretaries  of  State, 
and  even  Commissioners  specially  delegated  for  the  pur- 
pose, have  drawn  up  treaties  and  signed  them,  only  to  see 
the  United  States  Senate  repudiate  their  work.  These 
are  called  "Unfinished  Treaties,"  and  many  large  envel- 
opes filled  with  them  are  preserved  in  our  national  ar- 
chives. Three  or  four  such  treaties  were  drawn  during 
President  Harrison's  term,  and  in  one  of  these  envelopes 
are  two  early  and  official  attempts  of  Texas  to  get  into 
our  Union.  Indeed,  all  treaties  relating  to  Texas  are  in 
these  envelopes,  for  we  acquired  our  largest  State  by  joint 
resolution  of  Congress,  dated  December  29,  1845,  and  not 
by  treaty  at  all. 


The  legal  document  by  which  Alaska  is  officially  made 
a  part  of  the  United  States  of  America  is  no  such  com- 
monplace affair  as  the  one  that  let  Louisiana  in,  nor  such 
a  cheap  bundle  of  paper  rags,  with  its  bungling  errors 
and  ugly  blots,  as  Florida  got  in  on. 

Alaska  came  in  with  the  finest  parchment — the  real 
skin  of  the  calf.  The  treaty  and  President  Johnson's 
proclamation  are  bound  together.  Six  blank  pages,  ten 
by  fourteen  inches  in  size,  were  left  vacant  at  the  begin- 
ning, but  ruled  very  near  the  edge  by  one  pale  red  line. 
Then  begins  the  proclamation,  announcing  to  the  world 
that  Alaska  belongs  not  to  Russia,  but  to  America.  The 
lines  extend  across  the  entire  page,  and  are  so  exquisitely 
written  that  they  might  have  slipped  out  of  your  copy- 
books. The  treaty  proper  lias  an  illuminated  heading, 
and  begins.  "  Au  noni  de  la  Tres  Sainte  et  Indivisible 
Trinite"  (in  the  name  of  the  very  Holv  and  Indivisible 
Trinity). 

Down  the  middle  of  each  page  is  a  faint  blue  line.  On 
the  left  of  this  line  is  the  English  version;  oil  the  right, 
the  Russian,  written  in  French.  These  English  and 
French  versions  are  signed  by  William  H.  Seward  and 
Robert  de  Stoecke.  The  seals  are  very  large,  and  holes 
are  cut  in  the  paper  against  which  they  are  folded,  to 
gain  space  for  them,  and  to  prevent  them  from  breaking. 

Including  the  joint  resolution  of  Congress  by  which 
we  acquired  Texas,  these  four  contracts,  all,  save  one, 
urittcii  upon  cheap  paper  and  kept  in  common  manilla 
envelopes  in  pigeon-holes  of  an  ordinary  cupboard,  form 
the  legal  titles  to  all,  except  a  mere  fraction,  of  our  terri- 
tory. They  are  the  original  treaties  —  the  warranty  - 
deeds  to  our  territory. 

The  first  title  to  the  New  World,  however,  is  much 
older  than  any  of  these  documents,  and,  next  to  Magna 
Charta  and  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  it  is  the 
most  celebrated  original  manuscript  in  existence — in  a 
political  sense,  at  least.  This  famous  manuscript  is  the 
commission  signed  by  King  Ferdinand  and  Queen  Isabella, 
appointing  Christopher  Columbus  Admiral  of  his  famous 
fleet  and  Governor  of  all  the  lands  he  should  discover. 
It  is  owned  by  the  great  Admiral's  lineal  descendant,  the 
Duke  of  Veragua,  and  was  by  him  exhibited  at  Chicago 
in  1893,  where,  doubtless,  many  saw  it  in  the  Convent  of 
La  Rahida. 

This  commission  is  written  in  a  very  fine  and  very 
quaint  hand,  still  preserved  witli  remarkable  clearness, 
upon  parchment  that  is  fourteen  by  twenty  inches  in  size, 
the  lines  going  lengthwise  of  the  sheet.  It  is  without  a 
fold,  and  the  royal  signatures  are  so  close  to  the  body  of 
the  text  as  to  be  with  difficulty  distinguished  from  it. 
There  is  no  introductory  line,  such  as  one  usually  finds  at 
the  head  of  state  papers.  It  begins,  however,  much  as  do 
proclamations  of  the  present  day,  showing  that  we  bor- 
rowed our  formula  for  the  Presidential  proclamations 
from  the  same  nation  that  gave  us  a  name  for  our  unit 
of  money.  The  parchment  of  this  Columbus  commis- 
sion is  now  quite  yellow,  though  well  preserved  .  Indeed, 
it  is  better  preserved  than  our  own  Ivdaration  of  Inde- 
pendence, which  it  made  possible,  and  which  it  ante- 
dates by  284  years. 


A    DIVING    ISLAND. 

BY  DAVID    KEE. 

ND  do  you  mean  to  tell  me,  Mr.  Readon,  as  how 
you've  seed  hislands  come  up  to  the  top  of  the 
water  to  breathe,  like  whales,  and  then  go  down  again?" 
"Indeed  I  have,  my  man,  and  so  have  plenty  more 
people,  too.  If  you  want  to  see  an  island  of  that  sort, 
tlicr/'  is  one  now,  before  your  very  eyes !"  And  Professor 
Readon  pointed,  as  he  spoke,  to  the  dark  steeple-shaped 
mass  of  volcanic  rock  which,  towering  2600  feet 


NOVEMBER  27,  1S94. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


57 


above  the  smooth  bright  surface  of  the  Mediterranean, 
with  its  halo  of  pale  light  playing  restlessly  around 
its  rocky  brow,  looked  like  a  colossal  image  of  some  saint 
or  martyr  of  the  olden  time.  "Two  thousand  years 
ago,''  continued  the  great  scientist,  "that  thing  came 
hissing  up  through  the  water  piping  hot.  and,  as  you 
see,  it  lias  kept  hot  ever  since." 

"Bui  it  hasn't  gone  down  again,  though, "cried  the  old 
seaman,  triumphantly.  "  Come,  now ;  it's  come  up,  but 
it  hasn't  gone  down." 

"No,  it  hasn't  gone  down,"  said  Dr.  Reacloii,  "but  I 
could  tell  you  of  plenty  of  others  which  have.  Just 
where  we  are  now  an  island  came  up  in  1861,  which  was 
called  Graham's  Island,  and  had  the  British  flag  hoisted 
upon  it.  It  sank  again  a  few  months  later,  and  came  up 
a  second  time  about  three  years  ago,  in  the  summer  of 
1863;  but  you  won't  find  it  now,  for  at  the  spot  where  it 
lay  there  is  now  a  depth  of  700  fathoms  of  water." 

"  I  say,  is  all  that  really  true?"  asked  the  veteran,  look- 
ing hard  into  the  speaker's  face,  as  if  expecting  to  tind 
some  trace  of  a  smile  of  mockery  lurking  there. 

"  You'll  find  it  in  any  old  newspaper  of  that  time,  if 
you  don't  believe  me,"  answered  the  Professor,  quietly; 
"and,  besides,  that's  only  one  case  out  of  many.  In  1783 
the  islet  of  Nynoe  rose  from  the  sea  off  the  coast  of  Ice- 
land, and  sank  again  at  the  end  of  a  year.  Off  St.  Michael, 
in  the  Azores,  a  small  rocky  islet  has  appeared  and  dis- 
appeared at  the  same  spot  five  times  in  the  last  two  cen- 
turies, and  its  last  apparition  took  place  only  a  few 
months  ago,  as  I  can  bear  witness,  for  I  saw  it  myself." 

"  Well,  I  am  blowed!"  gasped  the  ancient  mariner,  in 
a  paroxysm  of  disbelief. 

"And  you'll  see  marked  on  plenty  of  old  charts," 
went  on  the  imperturbable  Professor,  as  composedly  as 
ever,  "a  rock  called  'The  Three  Chimneys'  (which  no 
man  of  our  time  has  ever  seen)  on  the  course  from  the 
west  coast  of  Ireland  to  Newfoundland.  But  what  of 
that?  The  same  force  which  throws  up  a  stone  out  of  a 
volcano  would  suffice,  if  increased  a  hundredfold  or  a 
thousandfold,  to  throw  up  an  entire  island  just  as  easily. 
I  don't  see  anything  so  wonderful  in  all  that." 

"Don't  yer?  Well,  I  do .'"  rejoined  the  old  sailor,  with 
significant  emphasis. 

On  her  way  up  the  Levant  the  steamer  touched  at  Saii- 
torini,  one  of  the  southernmost  islands  of  the  Greek  Archi- 
pelago; and  old  Ben  Gaskett  asked,  with  a  sly  twinkle  in 
his  dark  gray  eye, 

"Is  this  one  o'  them  diviii1  hislands  you  was  a-telliiv 
us  about  t'other  day,  Mr.  Readout" 

"  I  don't  know  about  its  diving,  my  man,  but  it  is  un- 
doubtedly volcanic." 

"  Well,  I  s'pose  that's  wot  makes  everything  so  precious 
hot,"  growled  the  honest  tar,  wiping  his  streaming  fore- 
head. 

"  Do  you  know,  I  rather  think  that  conies  from  the 
heat  of  the  sea,"  observed  Dr.  Readon,  as  quietly  as  ever. 

"Wot?  the  sea  git  b'ilin'  hot!"  cried  Gaskett,  with  an 
air  of  desperation,  as  if  this  were  too  much  to  bear. 

"  Well,  fish  up  a  bucketful,  and  try  for  yourself,  if  you 
don't  believe  me,"  said  the  immovable  Professor,  with  a 
placid  smile. 

"So  'tis,  by  jingo!  it's  b'ilin',  and  no  mistake!"  cried 
the  astonished  seaman,  dipping  his  finger  into  the  bucket 
that  he  had  drawn  up.  and  hastily  withdrawing  it. 
"Well,  I've  seed  the  water  warm  in  the  Gulf  Stream, 
but  that  warn't  nothin'  to  this;  why,  I'm  blowed  if  yer 
couldn't  bile  a  hegg  in  it!" 

"Very  likely,  Mr.  Gaskett,"  rejoined  the  scientist,  be- 
coming suddenly  grave;  "and  that's  a  sign,  unless  I'm 
very  greatly  mistaken,  that  you're  going  to  see  a  sample 
of  the  '  volcanic  action '  about  which  you  have  heard  me 
talk  such  as  you  won't  forget  in  a  hurry." 

In  fact,  once  or  twice   in    the  course  of  that  morning 


the  smooth  surface  of  the  bay  was  suddenly  and  strangely 
agitated,  though  not  a  breath  of  wind  was  stirring;  ;ui'l 
on  each  of  these  occasions  a  weird,  hollow,  unearthly 
rumble  came  sullenly  from  the  depths  below. 

"Daddy  Neptune's  been  and  cotched  a  cold, "said  one 
of  the  sailors,  forcing  a  laugh;  but  his  mates  were  in  no 
mood  to  join  in  the  merriment,  for  these  mysterious 
phenomena,  following  so  closely  upon  the  equally  mys- 
terious hints  of  the  Professor,  made  them  all  more  un- 
easy than  they  would  have  cared  to  confess. 

All  at  once  a  louder  rumbling  was  heard,  the  water 
boiled  and  bubbled  like  a  seething  caldron,  several  huge 
waves  came  rolling  in  upon  the  shore,  making  the  an- 
chored steamer  rock  like  a  toy,  and  then,  to  the  amaze- 
ment and  terror  of  all  who  beheld  it,  a  small  rocky  islet 
heaved  itself  up  in  the  centre  of  the  bay  to  a  height  of 
more  than  thirty  feet  above  the  surface. 

As  soon  as  the  convulsion  had  subsided  Professor  Rea- 
doii  turned  to  the  astounded  Captain,  and  said,  as  coolly 
as  if  the  whole  thing  had  taken  place  by  preconcerted  ar- 
rangement, 

"Captain  Barnes,  if  you  can  spare  me  one  of  your 
boats  for  half  an  hour  or  so  I  should  like  to  examine  that 
island  a  little." 

"  You're  quite  welcome  to  the  boat,"  answered  the  Cap- 
tain, with  a  grin;  "but  if  you  mean  to  land  upon  that 
island,  I  expect  you'll  have  a  job  of  it  to  get  anybody  to 
go  along  with  you." 

In  fact,  so  far  from  being  slow  of  belief  any  longer,  the 
sailors,  after  what  they  had  just  seen,  were  now  ready  to 
believe  anything  upon  earth;  and  for  some  time  they 
turned  a  deaf  ear  to  all  the  Doctor's  persuasions  to  ven- 
ture near  the  "  blowed-up  hisland."  At  last  old  Ben 
Gaskett  said,  with  impressive  solemnity, 

"Well,  Mr.  Readoii,  if  you'll  promise  as  how  that  'ere 
hisland  sha'ii't  go  down  again  until  we  gits  clear  of  it, 
we'll  take  the  risk." 

The  Professor  at  once  gave  the  required  pledge,  for  his 
knowledge  of  such  phenomena  was  sufficient  to  assure 
him  that  there  was  110  immediate  danger,  and  a  few 
minutes  later  the  boat  was  on  its  way  to  the  new-born 
island. 

As  they  n eared  it,  Ben  Gaskett  (who  was  steering)  gave 
a  sudden  start,  and  called  out  in  a  tone  of  the  utmost 
astonishment,  "Why,  I'm  a  Dutchman  if  there  ain't 
houses  011  it!" 

"  So  there  are,  sure  enough,"  cried  the  Professor,  look- 
ing keenly  at  the  mysterious  island.  "  Well,  there,  you 
see,  is  a  plain  proof  that  this  island  must  have  risen  and 
gone  down  again  once  before,  for  they  don't  build  houses 
at  the  bottom  of  the  sea." 

In  truth,  every  man  of  them  could  now  see  plainly 
among  the  rocks  of  the  strange  island  two  small  but  solid 
and  well-built  houses  of  hewn  stone,  of  the  type  which 
one  now  sees  only  amid  the  ruins  of  Ephesus  and  other 
ancient  Greek  cities.  A  slight  hesitation  was  visible 
among  the  crew  as  their  boat  ran  alongside  of  this  loco- 
motive territory;  but  when  they  saw  Professor  Readon 
spring  ashore,  the  curiosity  of  the  sailors  fairly  gained 
the  upper  hand  of  their  terror,  and  having  made  fast  the 
boat,  they  crowded  after  him  as  eagerly  as  boys  at  a  peep- 
show. 

The  two  buildings — the  larger  of  which  appeared  to 
have  been  a  dwelling-house,  and  the  other  a  kind  of  out- 
building attached  to  it — were  both  in  the  old  classic  style, 
and  Dr.  Readou,  having  examined  their  materials  and 
style  of  architecture,  pronounced  them  to  be  at  least  two 
thousand  years  old. 

Masses  of  seaweed  clung  to  the  graceful  columns,  and 
the  interior  was  almost  blocked  up  with  the  drifted  sand; 
but  the  masonry  itself  was  in  excellent  preservation,  and 
there  was  even  an  inscription  legible  above  the  principal 
entrance  of  the  larger  building-,  which  the  Professor  de- 


58 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


clared  to  be  Greek,  and  translated  as  follows,  for  the 
benefit  of  the  admiring  sailors,  "  Glaucon,  the  son  of 
Theophrastus,  a  merchant  of  Rhodes,  built  this  house." 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  we've  been  able  to  have  such  a  good 
sight  of  this,"'  said  Dr.  Readon,  as  he  at  length  (after  mak- 
ing a  hasty  sketch  of  this  curious  "  antique  ")  reluctantly 
gave  the  signal  for  departure,  "  for  I  doubt  very  much  if 
we  shall  ever  get  another  chance." 

Nor  did  they ;  for  when,  two  months  later,  they  touched 
again  at  Sautoriui  011  their  homeward  voyage,  they  found 
that  this  "diving  island  "  had  taken  another  plunge,  and 
was  gone  ns  if  it  had  never  been. 


AFLOAT  WITH   THE    FLAG. 

BY    W.  J.  HENDERSON. 

CHAPTER      VII. 
TROUBLES   OF   A   NEW   REPUBLIC. 

fllHE  troubles  which  had  broken  out  in  Brazil  in  the 
J.  autumn  were  rapidly  reaching  their  climax.  It  was 
a  curious  spectacle  upon  which  the  entire  civilized  world 
was  looking  with  interest.  The  navy  of  a  large  and 
powerful  republic  had  revolted  against  the  government, 
and,  shut  up  in  a  few  stanch  cruisers,  lay  at  anchor  in 
front  of  the  capital  city,  which  it  bombarded  with  great 
regularity,  but  little  accuracy.  The  ostensible  cause  of 
the  revolt  was  the  veto  by  President  Peixoto  of  a  law 
making  it  impossible  for  him  to  be  his  own  successor  in 
'office.  The  true  cause  was  a  determination  to  restore 
the  monarchical  government  in  Brazil.  Week  after 
week,  month  after  mouth,  the  insurgent  fleet  continued 
its  depredations,  in  spite  of  the  belief  that  the  rebellion 
must  speedily  collapse  for  the  want  of  funds  and  muni- 
tions of  war.  Somehow  these  necessaries  found  their 
way  into  the  hands  of  the  rebel  chiefs,  but  it  was  not 
until  Admiral  Mello  was  deposed  and  Admiral  Da  Gama 
placed  in  command  that  the  latter's  declaration  in  favor 
of  monarchy  revealed  the  true  state  of  affairs.  But 
President  Peixoto  found  himself  equal  to  the  demands  of 
the  time.  Trusted  agents  in  New  York  set  about  organiz- 
ing a  fleet.  The  merchant  steamers  El  del  and  Britit  nil  /a 
were  purchased,  and  hastily  transformed  into  cruisers. 
Both  were  supplied  with  torpedo  tubes  and  effective  bat- 
teries of  rapid-fire  guns.  In  addition  to  these,  El  Cid, 
rechristened  Nictheroy,  after  a  suburb  of  Rio  de  Janeiro, 
was  provided  with  a  dynamite  gun — a  new  and  untested 
weapon  whose  value  in  warfare  was  an  unknown  quan- 
tity. Admiral  Da  Gama  had  once  inspected  dynamite 
guns  in  New  York,  and  had  made  a  report  on  them  to 
his  government.  He  had  a  wholesome  respect  for  the 
weapon.  Furthermore,  the  agents  of  the  Brazilian  Pres- 
ident had  purchased  the  Ericsson  submarine  gun-vessel, 
a  Yarrow  torpedo-boat,  and  five  German  torpedo-boats. 
It  was  the  rumor  in  Rio  Harbor  that  the  government 
fleet  was  to  assemble  in  some  one  of  the  sequestered  har- 
bors along  the  northeastern  coast  of  Brazil,  and  thence 
steal  down  upon  Da  Gama.  Shut  up  in  Rio  Harbor, 
with  the  shore  batteries  behind  him  and  the  loyal  fleet 
blocking  the  entrance  to  the  bay,  his  position  would  be 
precarious. 

But  Da  Gama  was  not  disposed  to  wait  in  idleness  for 
the  decisive  blow.  He  stole  in  and  out  of  the  harbor  at 
unexpected  times,  so  that  no  one  could  tell  just  where  he 
was.  With  his  fleet,  consisting  of  the  Aquidaban,  com- 
manded by  the  deposed  Mello,  the  Republica,Tirad&ntes, 
Guanabara,  Libertade,  Tamandare,  Trajano,  and  a  few 
smaller  vessels,  he  hovered  like  a  mysterious  pirate  among 
the  islands  of  the  bay,  and  occasionally  opened  fire  upon 
the  city. 

The  harbor  of  Rio  de  Janeiro  is  justly  celebrated  as  the 


most  beautiful  in  the  world.  The  entrance  is  between 
two  bold  points,  1700  yards  apart.  Just  inside,  and 
nearer  to  the  western  point,  Fort  Lage  rises  out  of  the 
water.  On  the  eastern  point  stands  Fort  Santa  Cruz 
and  a  fixed  white  light,  visible  six  miles.  On  the  western 
point  are  forts  San  Joao  and  St.  Theodosio.  The  harbor 
extends  almost  north  and  south.  Outside  of  the  eastern 
point  of  entrance,  about  a  mile  to  the  southeast,  is  Flora 
Point,  from  which  runs  back  a  spur  of  mountains  nearly 
1100  feet  high.  Three-quarters  of  a  mile  to  the  south- 
ward of  Fort  San  Joao  the  Pao  de  Acucari,  or  Sugar  Loaf, 
lifts  its  domelike  back  1270  feet  above  the  level  of  the 
sea. 

Inside  the  entrance  the  harbor  widens  out.  On  the 
easterly  side,  behind  Jurujuba  Point,  a  little  over  a  mile 
north-northeast  of  Fort  Santa  Cruz,  opens  the  bight  of 
Three  Fathom  Bay — a  large  expanse  of  shallow  water, 
bordered  by  San  Francisco  Xavier  Beach  on  the  east  and 
by  Carahy  Beach  on  the  north.  The  northern  boundary 
of  Three  Fathom  Bay  is  a  neck  of  land  half  a  mile  wide, 
at  whose  outer  extremities  are  two  forts,  Boa  Yiagem 
and  Gravata.  Now  conies  another  bight,  forming  Praia 
Grande  Bay,  on  which  fronts  the  town  of  Nitheroy  or 
Nictheroy.  To  the  northward  of  Nictheroy  is  Arcia 
Point,  a  bold  head-land  rising  to  a  height  of  550  feet,  and 
beyond  this  is  a  cluster  of  hilly  islands. 

Inside  the  entrance  on  the  western  side  is  a  small 
bight,  bordered  by  Urea  and  Botofogo  beaches,  and  ex- 
tending to  Flamingo  Point,  one  mile  west  of  Fort  San 
Joao.  Flamingo  and  Freiras  beaches  extend  to  the  north- 
ward a  mile  and  two-thirds,  when  the  city  of  Rio  de  Ja- 
neiro is  reached.  Five-eighths  of  a  mile  off  shore  to  the 
southeast  lies  the  island  of  Yillegaignon,  on  which  there 
is  a  strong  fort.  Two  hundred  yards  off  the  point  at  the 
northeastern  extremity  of  the  city  is  the  Isle  de  Cobras,  on 
which  there  is  a  fine  dock,  385  feet  long.  Between  these 
two  islands  is  the  anchorage  for  men-of-war,  and  to  the 
northwest  of  Cobras  Island  is  the  anchorage  for  merchant 
vessels.  Rat  Island,  on  which  the  Custom-house  stands,  is 
250  yards  outside  of  Cobras  Island.  Enchadas  Island  faces 
the  city  a  little  over  five-eighths  of  a  mile  north  of  the  Isla 
de  Cobras.  To  the  northward  the  harbor  opens  out  into  a 
magnificent  bay.  The  coast-line  around  Rio  de  Janeiro 
Harbor  is  over  sixty  miles  in  extent.  There  are  from 
eight  to  ten  fathoms  of  water  on  the  bar  at  the  entrance, 
while  inside  the  depth  runs  from  ten  fathoms  several 
miles  above  the  city  to  twenty-eight  half  a  mile  north  of 
Fort  Lage. 

These  facts  are  necessary  to  a  thorough  understanding 
of  the  incidents  about  to  be  described  in  this  story;  but 
they  give  no  idea  of  the  enchanting  beauty  of  Rio  de 
Janeiro  Harbor.  Those  who  have  ascended  the  Hudson 
River  in  a  steamboat  may  conceive  some  faint  idea  of 
the  glories  of  Rio  Harbor  by  calling  to  mind  the  passage 
of  the  river  between  the  mountains  near  West  Point. 
But  at  Rio  you  come  in  from  the  open  sea  and  behold 
the  mountains  apparently  rising  out  of  the  rich  blue 
waters.  As  you  pass  in  you  are  close  enough  to  see  the 
luxuriant  wealth  of  the  tropical  vegetation  on  the  sides 
of  the  acclivities,  and  when  you  have  entered  the  bay 
you  are  in  a  vast  and  splendid  natural  basin,  with  the 
dwellings  and  towers  of  the  city  rising  proudly  on  your 
left  against  a  background  of  flashing  waters  and  olive 
mountain  slopes. 

CHAPTER    VIII. 
UNDER    A    FOREIGN    FLAG. 

WE  must  now  go  back  to  a  time  previous  to  the  events 
of  the  last  chapter.  The  Aquidaban  was  lying  at  anchor 
with  her  consorts  far  up  the  harbor  off  Engenha  Island. 
The  silence  and  luscious  warmth  of  the  tropical  night 
were  about  her.  Near  at  hand  the  dark  hulls  of  the 
other  vessels  of  the  fleet  showed  black  and  threatening 


NOVEMBKK  27.  1S94, 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


59 


against  the  starlit  waters.  At  some  distance  away  lay 
the  war-ships  of  the  foreign  powers  represented  in  Rio 
Harbor.  Great  Britain,  the  haughty  "  ruler  of  the  seas," 
had  three  cruisers  there;  Italy,  three;  Germany,  two; 
France  and  Portugal,  each  one.  "Old  Glory,"  as  the 
American  flag  has  come  to  be  called,  was  not  represented 
in  the  bay  except  by  unfortunate  merchant  ships.  These 
were  compelled  to  endure  all  kinds  of  high-handed  treat- 
ment by  the  insurgents,  who  asserted  that  they  were  con- 
veying stores  to  the  government. 

No  sound,  except  the  clinking  of  the  cables  as  the  ves- 
sels rode  to  the  tide,  and  an  occasional  snatch  of  sailor 
song  from  a  wandering  boat,  broke  the  silence  that  sur- 
rounded the  dark  men-of-war.  Leaning  over  the  quarter- 
rail  of  the  Aquidaban  was  a  young  man  whom  his  Naval 
Academy  friends  would  hardly  have  recognized  as  Frank 
Lockwood.  The  deep  sunburn  on  his  face  did  not  hide 
the  heavy  hollows  under  his  eyes,  nor  the  deep  lines 
around  his  mouth.  Frank  looked  ten  years  older  than 
he  was  on  the  day  when  Harold  and  George  had  parted 
from  him  in  his  uncle's  house.  The  boy  stared  at  the 
blinking  lights  of  the  distant  city,  and  heaved  a  sigh  that 
was  almost  a  groan.  A  light  footstep  followed  by  a  tap 
on  the  shoulder  caused  him  to  start. 

"  Ah,  Roderigo,"  he  said,  "is  it  you?" 

"Si,  amigo  mio.  You  seem  not  happy,"  said  Lieu- 
tenant Roderigo  Bennos. 

It  was  the  young  officer  who  had  shown  the  boy  over 
the  Aquidaban,  in  New  York  Harbor. 

"  No,  I'm  not,"  replied  Frank,  shortly. 

"  Why,  are  you  not  happy?  Here  we  fight  much — all 
the  time — every  day.  That  is  what  you  say  you  want." 

"But  such  fighting!"  exclaimed  Frank.  "We  lie  hid 
two-thirds  of  the  time  behind  some  of  these  accommo- 
dating islands.  About  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  we 
steam  out,  and  in  a  most  leisurely  manner  throw  a  few 
shells  over  in  the  direction  of  the  city.  Perhaps  we  hit 
the  sea-wall  in  front  of  the  Custom-house;  perhaps  we 
hit  the  heights  beyond  the  town.  We  knock  off  for 
supper,  smoke  our  pipes,  fire  a  few  more  shells,  go  back 
to  our  anchorage,  and — go  to  sleep.  Pshaw!  Why,  an 
American  naval  officer  would  scare  this  whole  fleet  out 
of  the  water." 

'"Sh-sh!  Not  so  loud.  Not  that  kind  of  talk.  You 
will  be  heard;  then  court-martial.  The  Admiral  thinks 
to  tire  out  the  President." 

"Well,  he'll  never  tire  out  Peixoto  by  plugging  those 
hills  full  of  iron." 

"You  will  see.     We  shall  win  yet." 

"  How  is  it  possible?"  demanded  Frank.  "Here  we  are 
practically  penned  up  in  these  ships,  and  unable  to  get  a 
footing  on  the  land.  Every  time  we  try  it  we  are  driv- 
en back  with  a  considerable  loss,  and  we  have  no  men 
to  spare." 

"  That  will  be  all  right,"  replied  Bennos,  confidently. 
"The  land  column  will  march  up  from  Rio  Grande  do 
Sul.  Then  we  will  win." 

Frank  shook  his  head,  and  gazed  out  over  the  still 
waters.  Bennos  laid  his  hand  on  the  boy's  shoulder. 

"I  know  what  makes  you  unhappy,"  he  said,  kindly. 

"  Do  you?"  said  Frank,  with  awakening  interest. 

"  Yes,"  continued  the  Brazilian.  "  You  are  not  happy 
because  you  have  no  heart  in  this  fight." 

"  That's  true,  Roderigo.  What  difference  does  it  make 
to  me  whether  we  win  or  not?  I've  shipped  with  Ad- 
miral Da  Gama,  and  I've  taken  his  money.  I've  sold 
myself,  and  I'll  stick  to  my  bargain.  My  body  belongs 
to  the  Admiral,  and  I  must  shed  my  blood  for  him  if 
necessary.  But  what  do  I  care  for  his  success?  I'm  a 
miserable  hireling.  And  that  is  not  all." 

"No?" 

"  No.  I  came  down  here  to  look  for  my  missing  cou- 
sin Robert,  and  I  can  get  no  chance  to  do  anything." 


"But  you  have  learned  something,  amigo  iiu'n." 

"  I  know  that  a  lad  answering  his  description  deserted 
from  the  Tamandare  when  she  joined  the  insurgents,  and 
is  now  in  the  service  of  President  Peixoto  on  shore,  where 
I  cannot  reach  him." 

"  But  when  we  have  conquered — 

"I  might  find  his  dead  body  slain  by  my  companions 
in  arms." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  Bennos,  taking  the  boy's  hand. 

At  that  moment  the  bugle  sounded. 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  Frank.  "The  usual  evening  fire- 
works, eh?" 

"Yes;  we  shall  bombard  the  city  some  more." 

The  two  young  men  went  to  their  stations  at  the  70- 
pounder  Armstrongs.  The  heavy  guns  in  the  turrets 
were  under  the  command  of  more  experienced  officers. 
Steam  was  already  up,  and  the  Aqitidaban,  followed  by 
three  of  her  consorts  in  single  column  at  distances  of  200 
yards  apart,  moved  slowly  and  majestically  out  from  the 
cover  of  the  island.  Frank  listened  with  some  contempt 
to  the  directions  of  the  division  officers.  He  had  already 
learned  to  understand  all  the  commands  in  the  strange 
tongue,  and  he  smiled  when  he  heard  the  range  given 
out. 

"Going  to  pepper  the  hills  again, "he  said  to  himself. 
"Well,  this  gun  of  mine  is  out  to  hit  something  before 
this  night's  work  is  done.  I'm  sick  of  this  fooling." 

An  American  man-of-war's  man  would  have  been 
amused  at  the  leisurely  way  in  which  the  Brazilians  went 
about  the  work  of  warfare,  as  exemplified  in  the  business 
of  bombarding.  Ten  minutes  after  the  Aquidaban  had 
taken  up  her  position  there  was  a  brilliant  flash,  lighting 
up  all  the  surrounding  waters  with  a  red  glare,  a  deep- 
mouthed  roar,  and  a  rattling  jar  of  the  whole  ship.  Frank 
peered  out  of  his  port. 

"That's  one  of  the  forward  nine-inches,"  he  muttered, 
"and  I  think  I  know  just  where  to  look  for  the  explosion 
of  the  shell." 

The  projectiles  of  the  modern  rifles  do  not  leave  a  trail 
of  fire  behind  them  as  they  go  speeding  through  the  air, 
because  they  do  not  carry  the  old-fashioned  fuse  which  is 
lighted  by  the  burning  of  the  powder  in  the  gun.  They 
are  exploded  by  a  percussion  fuse,  and  they  rush  through 
the  darkness  of  night  unseen. 

"There  she  goes,"  murmured  Frank,  as  he  detected  a 
flash  of  red  light  far  up  the  hill-side  behind  the  city. 
"  They'll  have  an  iron  mine  up  there  in  the  year  1900. 
Now  we'll  see  the  Republica  plant  a  shell  in  the  same 
safe  spot." 

Boom  !  The  RepubJica's  gun  spoke,  sarcastically  com- 
menting on  the  ship's  name  by  arguing  in  favor  of  mon- 
archy. 

"  That's  it,"  soliloquized  Frank.  "  Same  old  place.  I 
wonder  if  the  people  in  the  Rua  di  Ouvidor  take  off  their 
hats  as  the  shells  go  over?" 

All  the  members  of  Frank's  gun  crew  were  gathered 
at  the  ports  watching  the  firing,  so  the  young  man  quietly 
went  to  the  breech  of  the  gun  and  reduced  the  range  in- 
dicated by  the  breech-sight  by  750  yards. 

"There," he  said  to  himself.  "There's  going  to  be  a 
surprise  party  this  evening." 

The  firing  proceeded  for  half  an  hour,  each  ship  in 
turn  discharging  one  gun,  before  it  was  Frank's  turn. 
He  smiled  slightly  as  he  gave  the  word, 

"Fire!" 

The  gun  captain  jerked  the  lanyard,  the  gun  roared, 
and  the  70-pound  shell  whistled  off  through  the  gloom. 
A  few  seconds  later  a  dull  report,  a  flash  of  light,  and  a 
crash  near  the  water-front  of  the  city  showed  that  Frank's 
subtraction  had  been  most  accurate.  The  effect  of  that 
telling  shot  was  as  if  a  hornet's  nest  had  been  struck. 
Lights  flashed  along  the  water-front  and  up  the  hill-side. 
Tongues  of  fire  shot  out  far  down  the  bay,  followed  by 


"FJHE1" 


heavy  reverberating  reports,  showing  that  Fort  Santa 
Cruz  had  opened  fire  on  Fort  Villegaignon.  Bugles 
blared  and  drums  rattled,  and  for  half  an  hour,  as  the  hills 
hurled  the  myriad  noises  back  and  forth  from  peak  to 
peak,  pandemonium  reigned.  Then,  as  suddenly  as  they 
had  begun,  the  forts  relapsed  into  a  sullen  silence.  The 
flashing  of  lights  along  the  water-front  of  the  city  ceased. 
The  order  "  Cease  firing"  was  signalled  from  theAqnida- 
ban  to  her  consorts,  and  the  three  ships  moved  solemnly 
back  to  their  anchorage  behind  the  island. 

"You  are  respectfully  invited  to  attend  our  exhibitions 
of  fireworks  every  evening  from  nine  to  ten,''  said  Frank, 
under  his  breath,  as  he  watched  his  crew  securing  the 
gun.  "  Coffee  and  cigarettes  will  be  served  out  after  the 
exercises." 

The  boy  shook  his  head,  and  added,  bitterly: 

''I'm  an  idiot!  How  could  I  suppose  that  I  would 
fight  with  enthusiasm  under  a  foreign  flag?  Oh,  Harold, 
old  boy,  if  I  only  had  you  alongside  to  heave  me  a  line 
and  keep  me  from  going  adrift  when  I  was  about  to  ship 
for  Bio!" 

"All  secure,  sir,  "reported  the  gun  captain,  and  Frank 
repeated  the  report  to  the  division  officer.  The  bugles 
should  have  sounded  the  retreat,  but  discipline  was  not 
strict  in  the.  insurgent  fleet,  and  the  division  officer  care- 
lessly commanded  Frank  to  dismiss  his  crew. 

"  Leave  your  quarters,"  said  the  boy  to  his  men.  Then 
he  went  out  on  deck  again  and  resumed  his  unprofitable 
occupation  of  leaning  over  the  quarter-rail  and  commun- 
ing with  his  own  spirit.  Fortunately  Bennos  soon  joined 
him,  and  led  his  thoughts  into  higher  channels. 

"Come,  amigo  mi'o,"lie  said.  ''You  must  not  think 
any  more  to-night.  We  must  go  below." 

They  went  down  to  the  half-deck,  as  that  part  of  the 
gun-deck  immediately  in  front  of  the  ward-room  is  called, 
and  there  they  found  a  gay  party  of  young  officers  smok- 
ing cigarettes,  laughing,  talking,  playing  the  guitar,  and 
otherwise  behaving  as  if  a  rebellion  against  one's  coun- 
try and  a  night  bombardment  were  holiday  amusements. 


One  of  the  younger  men,  noting  the  sober  look  on  Frank's 
face,  began  to  sing,  in  badly  broken  English,  "Annie 
Rooney,"  which  he  had  learned  while  the  ship  was  in 
New  York  waters.  Frank  broke  into  a  hearty  laugh, 
and  said: 

"  Oh,  I'm  going  to  turn  in.  Good-night,  you  fellows. 
Hope  to  see  you  all  at  the  bombardment  to-morrow  even- 
ing." 

"  Good-night,  sharp-shooter !" called  one  of  the  young 
men  after  him. 

Frank  was  up  bright  and  early  the  next  morning,  for 
he  had  not  yet  ceased  to  enjoy  the  beauties  of  the  tropical 
forenoon.  Bennos  joined  him  on  deck.  A  few  minutes 
later  they  observed  a  good  deal  of  hustling  about  on  some 
of  the  foreign  war-ships.  Men  were  seen  going  to  the 
mast-heads,  and  reports  were  signalled  from  one  ship  to 
another. 

"I  wonder  what  those  fellows  can  see?"  said  Frank. 
"Let's  get  permission  from  the  officer  of  the  deck  to  go 
aloft.  We  can  see  over  the  point  of  the  island." 

The  permission  was  granted,  and  the  two  young  men 
were  soon  at  the  foremast-head.  Far  down  the  bay  a 
white  ship  was  cutting  the  blue  waters  with  slow  and 
steady  prow. 

Frank  gazed  at  her  steadily  for  a  few  minutes,  and 
then  his  face  turned  pale,  while  his  lips  trembled  with 
strong  emotion. 

"What  is  the  trouble?"  asked  Bennos. 

"Can  you  not  see?  Yonder  comes  the  United  States 
cruiser  Charleston.  She  is  sent  here  to  protect  American 
interests  against  us — against  me !  And  here  am  I,  en- 
listed to  fight  against  my  own  flag!" 

"But  surely  there  will  be  no  h'ghting,  amigo.  There 
is  but  one  American  ship." 

"But  one!  Do  you  think  the  government  at  Wash- 
ington will  stop  there?  I  tell  you,  Eoderigo,  there  are 
more  ships  to  follow  that  one.  What  have  I  done  with 
my  life?" 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


THANKSGIVING     AT    THE     EDSONS'. 


BY     RICHARD     BARRY. 


seen  ''dear  grandpa"  before,  had  chirruped  their  way 
into  the  old  man's  affections,  and  had  touched  chords  of 
tenderness  and  love  that  had  long  been  hidden  under  the 
hard  strong-willed  exterior.  Late  in  the  spring  —  just 
before  they  had  moved  South — had  the  children  visited 
the  old  place  again  for  a  few  short  happy  days.  It  was 
haying-time;  bumble-bees  were  climbing  in  and  out  of 
honeysuckles,  crows  were  cawing,  and  thrushes  singing 
in  the  woods;  the  air  was  full  of  scents;  and  in  all  this 
world  there  is  no  such  a  ride  to  be  had  as  that  on  top  of 
a  soft,  swaying  load  of  hay.  Oh  !  the  delight  of  it  all — 
the  swallows  that  played  harlequin  in  and  out  of  the 
holes  in  the  gables  of  old  stained  barns,  and  the  owl  that 
used  to  "  whoo!  whoo!''  at  night  in  the  orchard! 

When  they  had  to  go  back  to  town,  old  Flint,  who. 
as  I  once  said,  had  earned  that  name  because  he  had  been 
so  "hard,"  stood  on  the  station  platform  waving  a  good- 


EAELY  in  the  summer  Franklin  Edson,  the  city  mis- 
sionary, had  accepted  a  call  to  leave  New  York  and 
take  charge  of  a  little  church  in  eastern, Virginia. 

His  long  work  in  the  city  had  begun  to  tell  on  him; 
he  was  feeling  worn  and  tired.  But  what  he  hated  most 
was  to  see  his  dear  wife's  face  becoming  thinner,  and  her 
slender  earnest  hands  becoming  slenderer  and  whiter; 
for  she  never  could  get  out  of  the  habit  of  working  for 
other  people,  and  taking  their  sorrows  home  with  her  at 
night. 

The  little  Edsons  were  as  bright  as  ever,  but  they  had 
begun  to  have  that  kept-in  look  that  most  town  children 
have;  and  it  was  so  far  from  where  the^y  lived  to  the  Park 
and  sunshine,  they  had  been  hemmed  in  by  busy  narrow 
streets  and  tall  crowded  tenements,  with  stuffy  little 
back  yards  filled  with  rubbish  and  creaking  clothes-lines. 

So  the  Rev.  Edson  had  left  the  great  work  that  will 
never  end  as  long  as  people 
huddle  together  in  great  cities, 
and  had  gone  down  to  take 
charge  of  the  little  white  church 
at  Lonely  Pines. 

Here  they  lived  in  a  little 
house  that  stood  a  few  hundred 
yards  from  the  white  church  it- 
self. From  the  rickety  front, 
gate  they  could  see  four  and 
one-half  other  houses;  for  one 
had  been  burned,  all  but  one 
wing  (during  the  war),  and  the 
ruined  walls  had  never  been 
torn  down.  That  is  about  all 
there  was  to  see,  except  a  long 
tobacco-shed  at  the  end  of  a 
great  wide  field,  and  a  negro 
cabin  with  a  i'e\v  tall  sunflowers 
ruling  it  over  a  patch  of  gar- 
den. There  was  a  good  deal 
of  sameness  at  Lonely  Pines. 

The  little  Edsons  had  never 
ceased  to  talk  of  the  times  they 
had  had  "at  grandpa's,"  up  in 
New  England,  and  the  people 
up  there  had  never  ceased  to 
talk  of  the  wondrous  change 
that  had  come  over  old  "Flint  " 
Edson  since  Frank,  his  only 
son,  had  first  brought  the'little 
Edsous  to  the  farm  for  New- 
Year's  week.  This  change 
was  as  astonishing  as  if  a  with- 
ered apple  had  turned  into  a 
great  big  rose,  and  Grandma 
Edson  had  actually  grown 
young  again  —  she  had  found 
once  more  the  pretty  little 
laugh  and  the  sparkle  in  her 
eyes  that  she  had  when  she 
was  a  girl. 

It  was  a  year  now  since  Flint 
Edson's  heart  had  softened  tow- 
ards the  world  one  night,  as  if 
an  angel  had  smoothed  it  with 
a  touch;  one  year  since  he  had 
forgiven  his  only  son  Frank  for 
becoming  a  missionary  and 
marrying  a  city  school-teacher, 
instead  of  coming  back  to  the 
farm. 

The  little  Edsons,  who  won- 
dered why  they  had  never  THE  LITTLE  EDSONS  HAD  NEVER  BEEN  IN  A  SLEEPING-CAR  BEFORE. 


C2 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


by  with  liis  hat,  two  big  tears  rolling  down  to  his  coarse 
grizzly  beard. 

They  were  all  well  and  not  at  all  unhappy  at  Lonely 
Pines.  The  air  was  fine,  the  sky  was  blue,  and  the  wind 
used  to  sigh  and  whisper  through  the  trees  as  it  came  up 
from  the  sea  at  night.  But  there  were  no  mountains,  no 
joyful  brook  that  swept  under  the  shadows  of  old  gray 
bridges  and  danced  out  into  the  meadows,  no  long  stone 
walls  that  climbed  up  the  pasture  hills,  along  the  tops  of 
which  the  sheep  used  to  walk  against  the  sky.  There 
was  no  view  down  the  valley  to  where  the  river  spread 
out,  narrowed  again,  and  roared  over  the  dam  at  the 
busy  singing  saw-mill.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  the 
same  things  over  and  over  again.  Nothing  to  see  but 
skimpy  pines,  and  sand,  and  old  fields,  and  polite  people 
who  were  poor,  and  who  drove  to  church  from  all  direc- 
tions in  their  worn-out  carriages  and  their  best  clothes 
on  Sundays.  There  were  the  colored  people,  of  course, 
who  were  poorer  and  quite  as  polite,  who  sang  and 
worked  slowly  in  the  sun  all  day  long.  Thus  it  was  no 
wonder  that  the  little  Edsons  used  to  talk  of  the  times 
"at  grandpa's." 

The  fall  had  come  upon  Virginia,  the  wild-geese  could 
be  heard  honking  up  in  the  sky.  and,  joy  of  joys!  the 
Edsons,  one  and  all,  were  going  to  make  the  long  trip  up 
to  New  England  to  spend  Thanksgiving  day. 

Tired  from  the  excitement  of  a  long  journey  in  the 
cars,  perhaps  it  would  have  been  better  had  they  rested 
on  their  way  and  spent  the  night  in  New  York.  But  this 
is  what  they  did  not  do.  Mr.  Edson  had  left  the  chil- 
dren and  their  mother  to  continue  the  rest  of  the  trip  in 
the  sleeping-car  that  left  on  the  night  express,  while  he 
staid  in  the  city  to  attend  to  some  important  business, 
meaning  to  follow  on  the  next  day,  and  join  them  later 
on  at  Milford  Centre  for  the  Thanksgiving  feast  at  Bun- 
Oak  farm. 

Little  did  poor  Mrs.  Edson  think  as  she  bade  good-by 
to  her  husband  at  the  Grand  Central  Station  that  she  was 
going  to  have  an  experience  the  memory  of  which  would 
never  leave  her. 

The  little  Edsons  had  never  been  in  a  sleeping-car  be- 
fore. They  looked  with  wonder  at  the  white-coaled  por- 
ter as  he  pulled  down  the  ceiling  into  big  shelves,  and 
turned  the  shelves  into  neat  little  beds  with  red  blankets 
and  very  small  pillows;  they  almost  forgot  they  were 
sleepy  as  they  watched  a  fat  old  gentleman  climb  into 
an  upper  berth.  Their  own  section  was  made  up  last, 
and  Grace  and  little  Lola  and  the  dolls  said  their  prayers 
and  were  soon  tucked  in  the  lower  half,  and  their  mother 
was  smiling  at  them  reassuringly  over  the  edge  of  the 
upper  one. 

"Now  don't  be  frightened,  little  girls,"  she  said,  "mo- 
ther's here."  What  comforting  words  these  are  to  little 
people ! 

Harry,  the  eldest,  who  had  spent  most  of  his  early  even- 
ing talking  to  the  brakeman  in  the  back  part  of  the  car, 
slept  with  his  mother. 

The  train  roared  angrily  under  bridges,  and  shot  along 
through  towns  and  forests  out  into  the  open  moonlit 
country ;  it  swung  about  curves  and  past  sleeping  villages, 
with  the  wheels  always  keeping  up  one  tune — now  faster, 
now  slower,  but  always  the  same  old  tune.  The  whistle 
blew  every  now  and  then,  and  it  seemed  to  say,  "Hurrah  ! 
hurrah!  we're  all  right!"  And  at  last  the  little  Edsons 
fell  asleep. 

Two  or  three  times  during  the  early  part  of  the  night 
Mrs.  Edson  had  looked  down  at  the  little  girls  as  they 
lay  there  sharing  one  of  the  small  pillows  between  them. 
At  last,  lulled  by  the  song  of  the  wheels,  she  too  fell  fast 
asleep,  and  did  not  wake  up  again  for  four  long  hours. 
When  she  did  it  was  very  early  morning;  little  Harry 
was  wide-awake  beside  her.  He  had  raised  an  edge  of 
the  window-shade  and  was  looking  out  at  the  fast-fleeing 


fences  and  telegraph-poles,  and  at  the  great  red  sun  climb- 
ing up  out  of  the  clouds  in  the  east. 

"We'll  soon  be  at  grandpa's,  mamma,"  he  said. 

It  was  almost  time  to  begin  to  dress,  and  Mrs.  Edson 
looked  over  the  edge  of  the  berth.  Only  one  of  the  little 
figures  and  one  doll  were  there.  Mrs.  Edson's  heart  al- 
most stopped  with  horror.  Just  as  she  was  she  slipped 
down  into  the  aisle  of  the  car,  and  just  as  they  were  the 
other  passengers  slipped  down  too,  for  her  scream  had 
aroused  even  the  sleepy  porter  dozing  on  his  camp-stool. 

"Lola!     Lola!"   shouted  the   poor  distracted   woman. 
"Where  is  Gracie?     Where  is  Gracie?" 
.  The  poor  baby,  awakened  so  suddenly,  began  to  cry. 
"Gracie!     Gracie!"   she   wept,  repeating  her   mother's 
words. 

Mrs.  Edson  felt  as  if  she  were  dreaming — she  must  be 
dreaming  some  horrible,  horrible  dream.  "Gone!  gone!" 
she  said,  in  a  hoarse  voice,  pointing  at  the  berth.  "  She 
isn't  there — my  little  girl — she  isn't  there!" 

A  kind  old  lady,  with  her  hair  in  curl-papers  and  a 
shawl  thrown  over  her  shoulders,  put  her  arm  about 
Mrs.  Edson's  waist.  "She  must  be  in  the  car,"  she  whis- 
pered. "Don't  take  on  so  —  don't  take  on  so,  dearie." 
She  forced  her  down,  and  sat  beside  her  on  the  berth. 
Men  were  hurrying  on  their  clothes  and  stamping  into 
their  boots,  and  the  trainmen  came  rushing  up. 

Mrs.  Edson  found  herself  praying — praying  out  loud; 
and  as  she  prayed  the  thought  came  to  her  frightfully, 
Gracie  had  once  or  twice  walked  from  her  bed  when  fast 
asleep.  As  she  thought  of  this  she  would  have  fallen 
had  not  the  old  lady  held  her  close.  Oh  yes,  yes;  it 
must  be  a  dream !  It  could  not  be  true !  She  would 
soon  wake  up.  But  there  were  the  people  all  about  her, 
and  there  was  the  conductor,  who  was  asking  her  some 
questions  in  a  whisper,  with  a  frightened  look  oil  his 
face.  Somebody  said,  "It's  the  last  car."  But  Mrs. 
Edson  could  not  hear  anything.  She  was  telling  her- 
self that  she  would  soon  wake  up  again.  She  felt  numb 
and  cold. 

Just  then  the  train,  which  had  been  slowing  gradual- 
ly, stopped  suddenly  at  a  small  station,  and  a  man  came 
running  down  the  car.  "For  Mrs.  Edson,  Train  34." 
he  said. 

A  young  man  opened  the  telegram  with  a  quick  mo- 
tion of  his  fingers,  and  read  out  loud : 

"  Miss  Grace  will  meet  you  at  Milford  station.  Don't 
worry;  she  is  all  right. 

"JOHN  DOOLEY,  Brakeman,  Train  23." 

"That's  on  the  other  road,"  said  the  conductor.  "  She's 
safe.  I  thank  the  Lord!" 

"She's  safe,"  whispered  the  old  lady.  Then  Mrs.  Ed- 
son  seemed  to  awake  and  understand,  and  fainted. 

Of  course  all  this  that  brought  Mr.  Dooley  into  the 
story  requires  some  explanation,  which  can  best  be  made 
by  telling  what  some  people  saw  and  what  some  people 
did,  or,  in  fact,  exactly  what  happened. 

Two  night  watchmen  standing-  on  a  station  platform 
on  this  eventful  night  were  talking  quietly  together  when 
train  "No.  34"  came  crashing  by.  When  it  had  gone, 
one  of  them  grasped  the  other  by  the  arm. 

"  Did  you  see  it?"  he  said,  hoarsely. 

The  other  did  not  answer  for  a  moment;  his  eyes  were 
following  the  fast  receding  lights. 

"Yes,"  he  said  at  last,  "I  seed  it  plain.  I  wonder 
what's  its  meanhi'?"  His  face  was  full  of  horror. 

What  they  had  seen  was  this:  A  little  \\hiic  figure  in 
the  moonlight,  standing  on  the  swaying  platform  between 
the  last  two  cars;  one  of  its  arms  was  outstretched  as  if 
pointing,  and  the  other  was  grasping  something  close  to 
its  breast.  It  was  only  a  glimpse  they  had,  but  it  was 


NOVEMBER  27,  1894. 


HAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


63 


before   them  now  as  strongly  as   if  it  had  been   photo- 
graphed, and  they  could  look  at  it  again. 

"  I  never  seed  one  before,  Bill,''  said  the  second  speaker. 

"Nor  I  nuther,"  responded  the  other;  "  don't  let's  say 
anything  about  it." 

But  that  evening  Bill  had  said  something-  about  having 
seen  a  ghost,  at  which  Mrs.  Bill  had  sniffed  suspiciously. 

Just  beyond  the  station  where  the  two  watchmen 
stood  was  Langford  Junction,  and  here  the  train  made 
what  is  known  as  a"  flying  switch  " — that  is,  the  last  car 
of  the  train,  which  was  a  day  or  passenger  coach,  was 
detached  from  the  rest  while  the  train  was  in  motion,  and 
creeping  along  the  track  in  the  wake  of  the  express,  was 
switched  off  to  the  branch  road  which  ran  parallel  to 
the  main  line  for  many  miles,  separated  from  it  by  a 
line  of  hills,  and  a  distance  not  over  ten  or  twelve  miles. 

Brakemau  John  Dooley,  who  let  loose  the  coupling  be- 
tween the  cars  and  managed  the  end  brake  on  the  front 
platform,  turned  to  go  back  into  the  car  after  it  had 
safely  run  some  distance  on  the  branch  road — in  a  few 
minutes  more  it  would  be  coupled  to  the  other  train  that 
was  waiting  to  take  it.  As  Mr.  Dooley  looked  down 
the  aisle  lie  saw  there  were  only  one  or  two  occupants, 
huddled  up  in  the  uncomfortable  seats,  and  fast  asleep. 
But  what  was  that;  Just  to  his  right,  on  one  of  the 
worn  red  cushions,  lay  a  little  figure,  with  one  bare  little 
foot  thrust,  out  from  beneath  the  soft  white  night-gown. 
Close  to  its  breast  it  hugged  a  doll  that  was  arrayed,  also 
for  a  night's  repose.  To  say  that  Mr.  Dooley  was  aston- 
ished would  not  express  it.  How  did  she  get  there? 
Where  did  she  come  from?  He  leaned  over  and  touched 
the  little  shape  gently  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Hello,  young  one!"  he  said.  "  What  are  you  doing 
here?" 

Gracie  looked  up.  For  a  minute  she  was  frightened, 
and  her  little  mouth  quivered  as  she  looked  at  the  strange 
surroundings. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  said,  her  face  trembling.  ''I 
doss  I  belongs  in  the  other  car,  with  mamma  and  Lola." 

"Well,  how  did  you  get  here,  then?"  inquired  the 
brakeman,  kindly.  "  And  what's  your  mamma's  name? 
And  where  are  you  going?" 

"  We're  going  to  grandpa's  atMilford,"  was  the  reply. 
"We're  going  to  spend  Thanksgiving,  and  my  mamma's 
and  papa's  name  is  Kelson.  I  went  to  bed  last  night  in 
a  funny  little  place  jess  like  a  bureau  drawer,  and  I 
don't  know  " — here  the  little  mouth  began  to  quiver — 
"how  I  came  here  or  where  I  is  at  all.  I  want  mam- 
ma." Then  the  floodgates  were  broken,  and  the  poor 
little  girl  could  not  keep  back  the  choking  sol  is. 

The  big'  brakeman  was  touched,  and  sat  down  beside 
her  in  the  seat.  He  put  one  arm  about  her  shoulders, 
and  his  great  big  voice  sounded  just  as  softly  as  a  wo- 
man's. "Never  mind,  little  one,"  he  said;  "we'll  get 
you  home  all  right."  And  again  lie  asked  her  name. 

"Edsoii?"  he  said  to  himself;  "and  you're  going  to 
Milford?  You  must  be  some  relation  to  old  Mr.  Kdson  on 
the  hill,  aren't  you,  little  one?"  he  asked  at  last,  aloud. 

"Yes  —  grandpa,"  sobbed  the  voice.  "But  I  wants 
mamma." 

Then  it  crossed  the  brakemau's  mind  how  the  poor 
mother  would  worry  when  she  awoke  and  found  the  little 
one  was  gone.  He  took  off  his  thick  coat  and  threw  it 
about  Grade's  trembling  little  shoulders,  and  darted  out 
at  the  station,  where  they  were  making  up  the  train. 

"I  can  catch  her  at  Colburn,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"  That's  the  next  station  before  Milford,  and  they  will 
get  there  just  about  daybreak,  I  reckon." 

With  that  he  ran  in,  explained  the  situation  in  a  few 
words  to  the  operator  behind  the  ticking  instruments,  and 
the  result  was  the  reassuring  telegram  that  told  Mrs. 
Kdson  her  darling  was  safe;  but  where  or  how  it  did  not 
say. 


Back  to  the  car  came  John  Dooley,  and  with  him  came 
two  or  three  other  kind  men,  with  mufflers  around  their 
throats  and  brass  buttons  down  their  blue  coats.  Gracie 
had  gotten  over  being  frightened  by  this  time,  and  she 
answered  all  the  questions  from  the  crowd  about  her 
quite  composedly. 

"  I  dess  I  walked  in  my  sleep  here,"  she  said. 

The  men  looked  at  one  another  in  astonishment;  the 
idea  of  this  frail  little  thing-  crossing  that  platform  with 
the  wind  blowing  half  a  gale,  and  opening  the  heavy  door 
of  the  last  car,  as  she  must  have  done,  they  could  not  un- 
derstand. 

"  Kver  done  it  before,  little  miss?"  one  inquired. 

"Once  I  waked  up  down  the  road  almost  at  old  Uncle 
Peter's,"  she  said;  "  the  dogs  they  woke  me  up,  but  I's 
not  afraid  of  dogs." 

"  Well,  I  swum  !"  said  one  of  the  men.  "  I  reckon  she's 
not  afraid  of  anything." 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I  can  do,"  said  John  Dooley,  ad- 
dressing the  group.  "  We  get  to  West  Milford  before 
the  other  train  gets  to  Milford  Centre,  and  I  can  hire  a 
team  and  drive  her  over  to  old  Flint's  in  time  to  catch 
them  at  the  station.  The  old  woman  will  tog  her  up,  1 
reckon.  Ye  ain't  afraid  to  come  with  me,  miss?"  he  said, 
turning  to  Gracie  again,  and  addressing  her  as  if  she 
were  a  grown  young  lady.  "  I'll  take  you  to  your 
grandpa's." 

"  I   want  mamma,"  said  the  wee  voice  again. 

"You'll  see  her,  too,"  said  the  brakeman. 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  Gracie  seemed  to  be  conscious 
of  her  bare  little  feet  that  were  sticking  out  into  the  aisle, 
and  that  her  doll  and  herself  were  not  dressed  for  travel- 
ling in  day  coaches.  She  crouched  under  the  thick  over- 
coat, and  hid  the  doll  under  the  wide  sleeve.  One  of  the 
men  brougnt  her  some  candy,  and  in  a  few  moments  she 
forgot  that  it  was  strange,  and  even  laughed  when  one 
of  the  men  said  something  about,  lending  her  his  rubber 
boots.  She  even  went  to  sleep  again,  and  awakened  in 
the  arms  of  Mr.  Dooley,  as  he  carried  her  up  to  the  front 
door  of  a  little  house,  where  a  kind,  red-cheeked  woman 
received  her,  and  kissed  her  over  and  over  again,  while  she 
tearfully  listened  to  John's  story  of  how  she  must  have 
crossed  that  dreadful  platform. 

In  a  fe'-  minutes  she  was  "togged  up,"  and  woiidrous- 
ly  indeed,  and  was  speeding  across  the  hard  frozen  road 
behind  two  fast  horses,  with  John  clucking  at  them  every 
now  and  then,  and  tucking  her  and  the  doll  in  the  seat 
beside  him.  Very  soon  they  crossed  the  old  gray  bridge, 
just  as  the  sun  showed  himself  above  the  hills,  and  the 
gray  morning-  light  grew  wider  and  brighter  as  they  drew 
up  before  the  old  red  barns,  turned  the  short  corner  at 
the  lane,  and  arrived  at  grandpa's. 

Great  was  the  astonishment,  the  exclamations,  and 
tremendous  the  joy ! 

"  I  reckon  the  best  place  for  her  is  down  at  the  station 
at  the  Centre  to  meet  her  mother,"  said  the  old  man.  "  I 
was  just  harnessing  up  to  go  and  fetch  them;  the  train 
will  be  along  in  half  an  hour." 

And  thus  it  happened  that  as  poor  Mrs.  Kdson,  still  pale 
and  trembling,  was  helped  down  the  steps  to  the  plat- 
form, the  first  thing  she  saw  was  little  Gracie,  "togged 
out,"  as  Mr.  Dooley  expressed  it,  in  two  or  three  flaring 
petticoats  and  several  heavy  shawls,  and  wrapped  up  be- 
sides that  in  a  great  fur  robe,  waving  a  very  cold-looking 
doll  over  her  head,  and  shouting  just  what  the  whistle 
had  bee'n  blowing  all  night,  and  what  Mr.  Dooley's  tele- 
gram had  proclaimed : 

"  I's  all  right,  mamma;  I's  all  right!" 
So  it  happened  that  Thanksgiving  day  at  the  Kdson  farm 
had  a  double  meaning  to  all  of  those  who  sat  about  the 
long  table  and  watched  -grandpa  deftly  carve  the  fat 
brown  turkey.  Outside  it  had  begun  to  snow,  and  as  the 
children  went  to  bed,  through  the  frosty  window  they 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


could  see  down  the  white  valley  and  hear  the  river  water 
thundering  over  the  darn. 

"There'll  he  coasting  to-morrow,"  said  Harry,  "and 
grandpa's  got  a  sled  for  me." 

And  little  Gracie  said  that  night,  as  her  mother  held  her 
close  in  her  arms:  "I  dess  I  won't  walk  in  my  sleep  any 
more,  mamma,  dolly  and  I.  We's  tired  of  waking  up  and 
not  knowing'  where  we  is."  And  Mrs.  Edsoii  kissed  her 
and  pressed  her  closer,  and  breathed  another  prayer. 

And.  strange  to  say,  Gracie  has  never  walked  from  that 
day  to  this,  unless  she  knew  exactly  where  she  was  go- 
ing, and  was  very  wide-awake  indeed. 


FLORENCE   B.  HALLOWELL. 


JOE  was  in  the  loft  of  the  old  barn  hunting  for  eggs  in 
the  hay,  when  he  heard  stumbling  steps  coming  up 
the  steep  stairway,  and  then  smothered  sobs. 

"That  you,  Teddy?"  he  called  out,  and  came  leaping 
over  the  hay,  an  egg  in  each  hand.  He  knew  it  could  he 
no  one  else,  for  Teddy  was  the  only  one  about  the  place 
who  ever  shed  tears.  "  What  on  earth's  the  matter?"  he 
asked. 

Teddy  had  seated  himself  at  the  head  of  the  stairway, 
and  was  rubbing  his  eyes  with  botli  chubby  brown  fists, 
while  down  his  little  freckled  face  the  tears  rolled  fast, 
splashing  on  the  front  of  his  striped  shirt  waist. 


BUT  ZEBEDEE  ACTUALLY  SEEMED  TO  LIKE  IT. 


"It's — it's — about — Zebedee.  Aunt — Aunt — Aunt  Si- 
lence has — sold  him  !''  he  sobbed. 

"  Sold  Zebedee !"  cried  Joe.  "  Sold  your  turkey  !  Oh, 
Teddy,  how  could  she?  Stop  crying,  and  tell  me  about 
it;''  and  he  sat  down  beside  his  little  brother,  his  face 
showing  his  deep  concern. 

Teddy  made  a  desperate  effort  and  conquered  the  worst 
of  the  sobs;  but  his  blue  eyes  were  drowned  in  tears  as 
he  raised  them  to  Joe's  face.  "The  man's  out  there 
now,"  he  said.  "It's  Mr.  Hampson,  the  marketman, 
you  know;  and  Aunt  Silence  promised  him  twenty-four 
turkeys,  and  she  couldn't  make  up  the  twenty-four  unless 
she  took  Zebedee,  for  he  didn't  want  the  sick  one  or  the 
one  that's  lame.  So  she  said  just  to  take  Zebedee  along, 
and — and  he's  got  him  now — tied  by  the  legs — in  his 
wagon." 

Joe  started  up.  "Come  along,"  he  said.  "I'll  just 
speak  to  Aunt  Silence  about  it.  She  oughtn't  to  have 
taken  Zebedee;  he  was  yours." 

"  I  raised  him  all  by  myself,"  wailed  Teddy,  as  he  fol- 
lowed Joe  down  stairs  and  out  of  the  barn. 

Miss  Silence  Withers  was  standing  on  the  back  porch, 
with  an  old  woollen  shawl  over  her  head  and  shoulders, 
and  near  her  was  a  stout,  good-natured-looking  man,  who 
had  just  handed  her  some  money,  which  she  was  pushing' 
into  a  little  leather  bag.  He  was  turning  away  with  a 
"  Good-afternoon  to  you,  ma'am,"  when  Joe  came  hurry- 
ing up,  closely  followed  by  Teddy. 

"Aunt  Silence,  Teddy  says  you've  sold  Zebedee,"  cried 
Joe,  excitedly. 

"  Yes,  I  have,"  answered  Miss  Silence.     "  I  needed  him 
to  make  up  the  two  dozen  I'd  promised  Mr.  Hampson." 
"But  Zebedee  was  Teddy's,  Aunt  Silence.      You  gave 
him   to  Teddy  when  he  was  hatched,  and 
you  said  it  wasn't   worth  while  letting  a 
hen  run  round  with  only  one  turkey.    Ted- 
dy raised  him,  and — 

"  Oh,  I  know  all  that."  interrupted  Miss 
Silence.  "But  one  turkey's  as  good  as 
another  for  a  pet.  Teddy  can  have  the 
sick  one." 

"I  don't  want  the  sick  one,"  wailed 
Teddy,  beginning  to  cry  again. 

"Well,  you  can  have  the  lame  one, 
then." 

"  I  don't  want  the  lame  one." 
"Well,  then,  do  without  any.  Now, 
Joe,  I  won't  have  no  more  words.  It's  all 
foolishness  makin'  a  pet  of  a  turkey,  any- 
how. Teddy,  you  go  in  the  house  and  sit 
on  that  bench  by  the  clock  until  you  can 
behave  yourself.  Good-by,  Mr.  Hump- 
son.  I  hope  to  have  a  bigger  lot  for  you 
next  Thaiiksgivin'.  My  turkeys  didn't  do 
well  this  year,  somehow." 

Mr.  Hampson  nodded,  and  walked  slow- 
ly around  the  house  to  the  front  gate, 
where  his  wagon  and  team  stood.  It  was 
a  covered  market-wagon,  and  in  the  back 
part  lay  the  two  dozen  turkeys  he  had  just 
bought  from  Miss  Silence.  He  didn't  al- 
together like  the  idea  of  carrying  away 
the  little  boy's  pet  turkey,  but  reflected 
that  he  couldn't  very  well  have  interfered 
in  the  matter  without  giving  offence  to 
Miss  Silence,  and  that  she  ought  to  know 
what  was  best.  She  had  said  it  didn't  do 
to  give  in  to  every  whim  a  child  might 
take,  and  he  supposed  she  was  right. 

So  he  climbed  up  on  the  seat  of  the  wag- 
on, whipped  up  his  horses,  and  went  off, 
doubtful  if  he  would  be  able  to  reach  his 
home  before  dark. 


NOVEMBER  27,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


65 


Joe  stood  by  a  corner  of  the  bouse  and  watched  the 
wagon  until  it  disappeared  around  a  bend  in  the  road. 
His  heart  was  hot  within  him.  In  his  opinion  his  aunt 
had  been  guilty  of  almost  a  crime  in  selling1  Zebedee. 
The  big  bronze-green  turkey  had  been  Teddy's  only  pet. 
It  would  come  at  his  call,  follow  him  around  the  yard, 
and  allow  him  to  stroke  it.  Teddy  had  never  had  any 
idea  that  his  aunt  would  lay  claim  to  it.  No  wonder  the 
blow  had  fallen  heavily. 

The  more  Joe  thought  of  it  the  angrier  he  grew,  and 
the  more  deeply  was  he  impressed  with  his  aunt's  in- 
justice. And  to  add  to  the  intensity  of  his  feeling,  he 
could  hear  little  Teddy  still  sobbing. 

"I'm  going  to  have  that  turkey  back  at  any  cost,"  Joe 
muttered;  and  without  giving  himself  time  for  further 
reflection,  he  sprang  over  the  fence,  and  started  at  a  run 
down  the  hard  rough  road. 

But  Mr.  Hampson's  horses  were  good  ones,  and  had  a 
long  start;  so,  though  Joe  ran  until  he  was  out  of  breath, 
he  did  not  come  in  sight  of  the  wagon.  This  did  not  de- 
ter him,  however.  He  was  determined  to  keep  on,  even 
if  he  had  to  go  the  whole  four  miles  to  Mr.  Hampson's 
farm . 

But  just  as  the  short  November  day  was  at  its  close, 
and  the  darkness 
made  it  impossi- 
ble to  distinguish 
small  objects,  Joe 
came  up  to  the 
wagon,  standing 
in  the  road  before 
the  blacksmith's 
shop.  Only  one 
horse  was  attached 
to  the  pole.  The 
other,  no  doubt, 
was  in  the  shop, 
having  a  shoe 
put  on,  and  Mr. 
Hampson  was 
watching  the  op- 
eration. 

Joe's  heart  beat 
fast.  It  had  been 
his  intention  to 
bargain  with  Mr. 
Hampson  for  the 
turkey,  to  offer 
him  his  jack-knife, 

and  the  old  silver  watch  he  had  inherited  from  his 
grandfather  Withers;  but  he  now  concluded  that  he 
had  better  do  his  bargaining  after  the  turkey  was  secured ; 
for  in  case  Mr.  Hampson  refused  to  consider  the  offer, 
poor  Zebedee  would  be  taken  to  market  the  first  thing  on 
the  morrow,  and  it  would  be  too  late  to  effect  a  rescue. 
Joe  was  as  honest  as  the  day,  and  had  not  the  most  re- 
mote intention  of  keeping  the  turkey  without  giving  the 
farmer  another  iu  its  place  or  its  equivalent.  But  under 
the  circumstances  he  did  not  think  it  wrong  to  make  sure 
of  Zebedee  while  he  had  a  chance.  He  sprang  up  on  the 
back  of  the  wagon  and  looked  in.  There  lay  the  tur- 
keys, each  one  tied  separately  by  its  legs. 

It  didn't  take  Joe  a  minute  to  decide  which  was  Zebe- 
dee. It  was  not  likely  that  even  in  the  dusk  he  could 
make  a  mistake.  Zebedee  was  darker  than  any  of  the 
rest;  he  was  of  a  different  breed,  and  was  bronze-green, 
instead  of  gray  or  black  like  the  others. 

Joe  seized  him,  lifted  him  carefully,  sprang  down  from 
the  wagon,  and  the  next  moment  was  speeding  down  the 
road  toward  home,  his  prize  held  close  to  his  breast.  In 
an  hour  he  was  at  home  and  had  waked  Teddy,  who  had 
gone  to  bed. 

"*You   needn't   cry  any  more,  Teddy,"  Joe  said,  in  a 


IT    DIDN'T    TAKE    JOE    A    MINUTE    TO    DECIDE    WHICH    WAS    ZEBEDEE 


whisper.  "  I've  got  Zebedee.  He's  down  in  the  old  corn- 
shed  in  the  south  field;"  and  then,  while  Teddy  clasped 
him  close,  he  told  what  he  had  done. 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad!"  said  Teddy,  with  a  long  sigh  of  re- 
lief. "But  I  wish  3Tou  hadn't  had  to  take  him  without 
asking,  Joe." 

"If  I'd  asked  I  mightn't  have  got  him,"  answered  Joe. 
"and  there  was  no  time  to  fool.  Mr.  Hampson  is  sure  to 
go  to  market  to-morrow  by  five  o'clock,  and  Zebedee  'd 
been  sold  like  a  shot.  We'll  get  another  turkey  from 
Luke  Poulton — the  biggest  he's  got — and  take  it  over  to 
Mr.  Hampson's  to-morrow  evening  after  he  gets  home 
from  market.  I  feel  'most  sure  Luke  '11  take  my  silver 
watch  when  I  tell  him  all  about  Aunt  Silence's  selling 
Zebedee." 

"I  want  to  go  to  the  corn-shed  and  see  him,  Joe,"  he 
said.  "And  I  guess  he's  awful  hungry.  I'll  carry  some 
corn  in  my  pockets." 

"We'll  hare  to  watch  our  chance,"  rejoined  Joe. 
"Wait  until  breakfast  is  over  and  Aunt  Silence  is  seeing 
to  the  milk." 

Miss  Silence's  ill  humor  still  enveloped  her.  She  had 
prepared  only  fried  potatoes  and  boiled  hominy  for  break 
fast,  and  served  them  in  silence. 

"I  don't  like 
hominy,"  Teddy 
said,  as  his  aunt 
WMS  about  to  help 
him  to  some. 
"  Butnevermind; 
I  don't  care  if  I 
don't  eat  much 
today,  as  to-mor- 
row's Thanks- 
givin'." 

"  If  you  are  ex- 
pectin'  to  fill  up 
on  a  big  Thanks- 
givin'  dinner  to- 
morrow, all  I  can 
say  is  that  you 
won't  do  it  hcrr." 
said  Miss  Silence. 
"  I  ain't  goin'  to 
have  no  dinner 
more'n  common. 
I  don't  believe  in 
stuffln'  boys  with 
pumpkin  pies  'n' 

cranberry  sauce  after  they've  behaved  the  way  you  and 
Joe  did  yesterdy  over  that  despisable  turkey." 

Teddy's    lower   lip    quivered.        "Aren't,  you    goin'   to 
have  any  pie — even  apple?"  he  asked,  timidly. 
"No,  I  ain't." 
"Nor  any  doughnuts?" 
"No." 

"  Ain't  you  goin'  to  kill  the  lame  turkey;" 
"No,  I  ain't  goin'  to  kill  the  lame  turkey." 
"  Is  everything  goin'  to  be  just  the  same  as  it  is  every 
day?" 

"Just  the  same.  You  can  set  your  mouth  for  pork  'n' 
beans  'n'  boiled  potatoes.  There's  no  use  makin'  a  fuss 
over  Tlianksgiviu'  when  a  body  'ain't  anything  to  be 
thankful  about.  Perhaps  you  think  I'd  oughter  be 
thankful  for  bavin' you  'n' Joe  to  raise?"  with  a  short, 
hard  laugh. 

"  Well — if  you  didn't  have  us  you  wouldn't  have  any- 
body, you  know,"  rejoined  Teddy,  reflectively.  "  Except 
Adam,"  he  added. 

As  soon  as  Miss  Silence  went  to  the  dairy,  where  she 
usually  spent  an  hour  every  morning,  the  two  boys  hur- 
ried to  the  old  corn-shed.  A  soft  "gobble,  gobble, "as 
they  drew  near  made  Teddy's  face  beam.  Joe  pulled 


66 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


away  the  stick  that  he  had  propped  against  the  door  the 
previous  night,  and  they  both  looked  eagerly  in. 

One  moment  of  utter  silence,  then  they  faced  each 
other,  bewilderment  and  dismay  on  one  countenance, 
bitter  disappointment  on  the  other. 

Teddy  was  the  first  to  speak.  "That  ain't  Zebedee,"he 
wailed.  "  Oh,  Joe,  you  took  the  wrong  one!" 

"I  don't  know  how  I  came  to  make  such  a  mistake," 
said  Joe,  leaning  against  the  shed,  and  gazing  at  the  tur- 
key as  if  he  could  not  believe  the  evidence  of  his  own 
eyes.  "I  was  sure  it  was  Zebedee." 

"And  now  he's  been  taken  to  market  and  sold,"  whim- 
pered Teddy.  "He'll  be  stuffed  full  of  chestnuts  'n' 
bread,  'n' eaten  up  to-morrow;"  and  the  ever-ready  tears 
began  to  flow. 

"It  can't  be  helped,"  said  Joe,  in  despair.  "It's  too 
late  to  do  anything  now,  except  take  this  one  back  to  Mr. 
Hampson.  We  haven't  any  right  to  this  one,  you  see." 

"  Well.  I  don't  want  it,  anyhow,"  rejoined  Teddy.  "  It 
ain't  Zebedee.  I  didn't  want  any  'cept  Zebedee,  'n'  now 
he's  killed." 

Joe  did  not  know  how  to  comfort  him,  and  they  went 
back  to  the  house  with  heavy  hearts. 

The  hearts  of  the  two  boys  thumped  loudly  late  that 
afternoon  as  they  went  in  at  the  front  gate  and  made 
their  way  around  to  the  back  of  Mr.  Hampson's  farm- 
house. They  were  very  uncertain  how  Mr.  Hampson 
would  receive  the  story  Joe  had  to  tell. 

"  Why,  if  here  ain't  the  very  boys  we  were  just  talking 
about,  wife,"  cried  the  farmer,  in  a  hearty  voice.  "  Come 
in.  Why,  what  are  you  doing  with  that  big  turkey? 
Want  to  make  an  exchange,  I  guess." 

Joe,  terribly  embarrassed,  stammered  out  his  story, 
while  Teddy  stood  by,  his  anxious  eyes  fixed  011  Mr. 
Hampson's  face. 

"Please  don't  put  Joe  in  jail,  sir,"  he  pleaded,  in  a 
tremulous  voice,as  his  brother  stopped  speaking.  "Here's 
the  turkey,  you  see,  an'  it  ain't  hurt  a  bit." 

Mr.  Hampson  laughed,  and  his  wife  crossed  the  room 
and  put  her  arm  around  Teddy. 

"  Indeed  he  sha'n't  go  to  jail,"  she  said,  with  a  kiss  on 
the  child's  forehead.  "  When  Mr.  Hampson  come  home 
'n'  told  me  about  your  turkey,  I  said  it  was  a  shame  for 
him  to  buy  it;  and  it  never  went  to  market  at  all.  Look 
here." 

She  opened  a  door  which  communicated  with  a  wood- 
shed, and  motioned  to  Teddy  to  look  in.  There  was  Zeb- 
edee strutting  around  in  all  his  green  glory,  as  handsome 
and  proud  as  ever.  And  in  another  minute  Teddy  had 
him  in  his  arms,  hugging  him  in  a  manner  that  any  other 
turkey  would  have  resented.  But  Zebedee  actually  seem- 
ed to  like  it. 

"  I'll  make  him  a  present  to  you,  Teddy,"  said  the  farm- 
er, as  they  started  home.  "And  by  next  Thanksgiving 
he  will  be  too  tough  and  old  for  anybody  to  want  him." 

Before  they  had  gone  a  mile  the  snow  was  falling  in 
such  great  flakes  that  they  couldn't  see  a  yard  before  their 
faces,  and  it  had  turned  very  cold.  Teddy  said  his  fin- 
gers were  freezing  and  that  his  legs  ached. 

"  I  don't  believe  I  can  go  on  any  further,  Joe,"  he 
whimpered.  "The  snow's  gettin'  so  deep." 

"You've  got  to  go  on,"  rejoined  Joe,  who  had  no  idea 
how  far  they  were  on  their  way,  and  he  shifted  the  tur- 
key to  his  other  shoulder  and  held  it  with  one  hand,  giv- 
ing the  other  to  his  little  brother. 

They  struggled  along  for  another  half-mile,  perhaps, 
the  snow  growing  deeper  every  moment,  and  Teddy's  step 
lagging  more  and  more,  until  Joe  had  to  fairly  drag  him 
along. 

"I'm  so  sleepy  and  tired,  Joe;  let's  sit  down  and  rest  a 
little  while,"  begged  the  child. 

Rest!  Joe's  heart  stood  still  at  the  suggestion.  He 
knew  what  it  meant  to  rest  in  a  snow-storm. 


"  We'll  soon  be  home  now,  Teddy,''  he  said.  "  It  can't 
be  much  further." 

"If  you'd  only  let  me  sit  down  and  rest,"  whimpered 
Teddy.  "You  could  go  on  then  by  yourself,  and  send 
Adam  after  me." 

But  Joe  still  dragged  him  on.  He  was  almost  exhaust- 
ed himself,  and  his  breath  came  in  gasps.  His  steps  grew 
slower  and  slower,  until  at  last  he  paused  —  "just  for  a 
minute.'' he  told  himself;  but  in  that  minute  Teddy  sank 
down. 

"I  can't  go  another  step,  Joe,"  he  said.  "Give  me 
Zebedee,  and  you  go  on." 

Joe  put  the  turkey  in  his  little  brother's  arms,  and 
Teddy  clasped  it  close.  The  next  moment  his  head  had 
fallen  on  his  breast,  and  he  was  sound  asleep. 

"Perhaps  I  can  get  on  alone  and  send  somebody," 
thought  Joe.  "  It  can't  be  far  to  Aunt  Silence's 
now." 

He  struggled  on  a  few  steps  further,  the  snow  above 
his  knees;  and  then  it  seemed  to  him  that  a  light  was 
dancing  just  before  him,  but  before  he  could  decide  what 
it  was  his  strength  deserted  him  suddenly,  and  he  sank 
down  exhausted.  He  was  conscious  of  hearing  a  familiar 
voice  calling  his  name,  or  some  one  or  something  pulling 
at  his  coat,  and  then  all  was  blank. 

When  Teddy  sank  down  in  the  road  and  closed  his 
eyes  in  sleep,  the  probability  that  they  would  ever  open 
again  in  this  world  was  very  slight.  But  they  did 
open,  and  their  owner  became  dimly  conscious  that  he 
was  lying  on  the  bed  in  the  spare  room  that  opened  off 
the  kitchen,  and  that  his  aunt  was  bending  over  him. 
Then  he  heard  some  one — it  sounded  like  Adam's  voice — 
say:  "He's  all  right  now;  don't  you  worry.  Just  let 
him  sleep." 

And  then  he  didn't  know  anything  more  until  he  was 
roused  by  talking  going  on  in  the  kitchen. 

"Aunt  Silence!"  he  said,  and,  oh,  how  weak  his  voice 
sounded! 

His  aunt  came  hurrying  in,  with  her  sleeves  rolled 
above  her  elbows,  and  a  big  apron  on.  There  was  a  patch 
of  flour  on  her  cheek  and  dough  sticking  to  her  hands. 
"  So  you're  awake  at  last !"  she  said,  and  Teddy  wondered 
what  made  her  voice  so  gentle,  and  why  she  looked  so 
kind.  "You're  a  lazy  one.  Joe's  been  up  and  about 
for  ever  so  long." 

"  What  time  is  it?"  asked  Teddy,  languidly. 

"'Most  nine  o'clock." 

"Is  itThanksgivin'day?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Aunt  Silence,  with  a  little  break  in 
her  voice;  "and  if  you  want  any  dinner,  you'd  better 
get  up." 

"Are  you  going  to  have  just  bacon  and  beans,  as  you 
said  you  would?" 

"No;   better  than  that." 

"Turkey?" 

"Yes;  Adam  killed  the  lame  turkey  the  first  thing 
this  morning." 

"And  pies?" 

"  Yes,  pun'kin  'n'  apple  pies." 

"  Not  cranberry  sauce,  too?" 

"Yes,  of  course;  cranberry  sauce  and  doughnuts  be- 
sides." 

Teddy  smiled,  and  sat  up.  "I  guess  you  must  be 
gettin'  thankful  about  something,  Aunt  Silence,"  he  said. 
"Is  it"  —  his  memory  returning  suddenly —  "because 
you've  got  Joe'n'  me  back  again?" 

"  Don't  ask  so  many  questions,  child,  "said  Miss  Silence, 
turning  from  him  that  he  might  not  see  the  tears  in  her 
eyes.  "Look  there.  Who's  this  marching  in  to  say 
good-morning?" 

Teddy  looked.  There  in  the  doorway  stood  Zebedee, 
just  ready  to  utter  a  "  gobble."  * 


THE     CONQUEST    OF    SANTA     GLAUS/ 

H   Gbristmas   Entertainment. 


BY    CAROLINE    A.   CREEVEY    AND     MARGARET    E.  SANGSTER. 


CHARACTERS 

SANTA  CLAUS.  EI.VKS  OF  THE  WOODS  (four  or  two). 

MRS.  SANTA  GLAUS.  FAIRIKS  (t/te  Queen  and  three  others). 

BERTH  A  1  .,    .      , .,  ,  Miss  AURORA  BOREALIS  (a  Timing  /aili/). 

FRITZ      j  CHIIISTMAS-TREB  SPRITES  (four  or  tu-o). 

MAIL-CARRIER.  KNIGHTS  OF  THE  SNOW-PLOUGH  (four). 

REINDEER-BOY.  DELEGATION    FROM   THE   SCHOOL    (four   or 

MKSSKNGKR-BOY.  lieo). 

JACK  FROST.  DELEGATION     FROM    THE    MISSION    SCHOOL 

TELEGRAPH-BOY.  (four  or  two). 

This  little  play  is  designed  for  use  among  children  in  day-schools  or 

Sunday-schools. 

The  dress  of  the  different  characters  may  be  simply  and  inexpensively 

made  from  cheese-cloth  (price  six  or  seven  cents  a  yard),  cambric  (seven 

(v^/.s-  </  '/">v/i.  </>(/./  nix!  ,w//vr  /xifjer,  and  tinsel.      Let  the  children  be  well 

clothed  in  flannel  under  these  thin  materials,  to  avoid  takinc/  cold. 

With  the  exception  of  Santa  Clans',  Mrs.   Santa  Glaus,  the  Mail-carrier, 

ami  Miss  Aurora  Borealis,  the  parts  may  all  be  taken  by  children  from 

eight  to  twelve  or  fourteen  years  of  age. 

SCENE.  —  The  home  of  Santa  Glaus  in  the  far  North.  Santa  Glaus  in  smok- 
inff-cap,  dressing-gown,  and  slippers,  smoking  a  meerschaum  (empty) 
pipe,  is  sealed  in  an  easy-chair  beside  a  table.  Behind  the  table  is  s'tp- 
poseil  to  be  a  Jire  in  a  fireplace.  On  the  table  is  a  lamp  wt/h  shade, 
books  and  papers,  and  a  plate  of  apples.  Mrs.  Santa  Glaus  sits  on  the 
other  side  of  the  table  knitting.  She  is  a  placid,  pleasant  uvmnn, 
plainly  dressed,  with  cap  on  her  head,  like  a  German  housewife.  S/ie 
mid  Santa  Glaus  are  quite  stout.  Santa  Glaus  reads  a  paper  and 
smokes.  Tieo  children,  Fritz  (t-ir/ht  years  old)  and  Bertha  (ten  years 
old),  are  seated  on  the  floor,  building  a  house  of  blocks.  They  should 
he  tlrtxsed  plainly,  in  enery-day  cos/nine  —  Bertha  with  an  apron  and 
Dutch  cap  of  gray  flannel.  ( I'hf  c>t/>  is  like  a  small  night-cap  without 
strings.)  The  two  children  are  in  the  foreground. 

TIME. — Afternoon  of  the  day  before  Chrislnuis.      Being  so  far  North,  it 

is  quite  dark  outside,  and  the  lamp  is  lighted. 

Bertha.  I'm  tired  playing  with  blocks ;  and  all  the  other  play- 
things are  worn  out.  You  know  we  get  only  the  broken  toys 
that  papa  has  left  over  every  year.  But  they  are  sometimes 
pretty  good.  What  do  you  hope  we  shall  get  this  year,  Fritz? 

Fi'itz.  I  wants  a  Noah's  ark,  and  a  climbing  monkey,  and  a 
twain  of  cars,  and  a  tin  cart,  and — 

Bertha.  Well,  you  won't  get  all  that;  you  know  you  won't. 
I  think  you're  a  greedy  boy.  Now  all  I  want  is  a  French  doll 
that  says  "papa"  and  "mamma, "a  doll -carriage,  a  set  of  furni- 
ture for  my  doll,  and  jewelry,  and  a  fan,  and  a  parasol,  and — 

Mrs.  Santa  C/nnx.  If  Fritz  is  a  greedy  boy,  Bertha  Liehchen, 
what  do  you  call  yourself?  You  won't  get  any  French  dolls,  for 
your  papa  is  very  careful  of  them.  He  has  special  orders  for 
these  nice  toys,  and  he  puts  them  in  a  separate  bag,  so  as  not  to 
get  them  broken.  You  have  only  the  left-over  things. 

Santa  Glaus  (turning  towards  tlie  children,  and  speaking  gntjfly). 
You  gels  nodings  at  all  dis  year.  I  don't  go  no  more.  Dey  will 
have  deir  Christmas  mitout  me  dis  times,  and  you,  mein  Kinder, 
you  don't  get  uodings,  no  damaged  Noah's  arks,  nor  no  talking 
dollies. 

Bertha  and  Fritz.  Ob,  papa! 

Fritz  (begins  to  cry).  I  wants  my  Noah's  ark,  and  a  woolly  dog, 
and  a  lamb,  and  a  squeaking  kitty,  and — 

Santa,  Clans.  You  sboost  stop  dis  howlings.  I  said  I  vas  not 
goings,  and  dere's  an  end  of  it.  Vat  I  says  1  means. 

Bertha  (comforting  Fritz,  and  wiping  his  tears  away).  'Sh-li! 
Don't  cry,  dear.  We  will  have  fun  some  other  way.  Papa  gets 
angry  if  we  cry.  Leave  him  to  mamma.  (In  a  Imcer  tune  uf 
coice.)  If  she  can't  manage  him,  nobody  can. 

Mrs.  Sfmta  Clans  (to  hi  r  husband,  in  a  soothing  tune  of  voice). 
Why  are  you  not  going,  dear? 

Santa,  Glaus  (testily).  Veil,  I  have  rheumatics  in  my  knees,  and 
I  ain't,  so  strong  as  1  used  to  vas,  and  dey  shoost  got  to  have  a 
younger  man,  dot  can  climb  up  and  down  deir  chimneys  friskier 
than  me. 

Mrs.  Santa  Via  us.  True,  my  love.  You  are  getting  rather  old. 
And  your  work  is  not  easy. 

Santa  Clans.  Dot  is  drue.  dot  is  drue.  I  don'  know  how  many 
hundert  years  I  bin  in  dis  bizness.  De  bizness  gets  harder  all  de 
time.  De  big  houses  has  furnace  and  steam  heat,  and  dey  ex- 
pect me  to  hunt  after  deir  chimneys  just  like  I  used  to  do.  De 
open  fireplaces  ain't  so  many  no  more.  And  dose  folks  vat  lives 
in  flats,  how  shall  dey  suppose  I  can  find  dem,  and  take  my 
time  hunting  up  deir  chimneys?  Und  I  got  so  stout  de  small 
chimneys  scratch  my  clothes,  and  I  come  home  so  tired.  I  don't 
get  rested  all  de  year  round.  Den  all  dose  Sunday  -  schools. 


Dey  send  for  me,  and  vants  me  to  trot  out  de  reindeers,  and  stay 
von  while,  and  shake  hands  all  round.  It  takes  my  time  too 
much.  I'm  tired.  I  don't  go  no  more. 

Mrs.  Santa  Clans.  Is  there  any  one  to  take  your  place?  You 
are  so  fond  of  children,  you  would  hate  to  disappoint  the  dear 
little  things. 

Santa  Glaus.  I  don't  know  about  dat.  Perhaps  I  don't  love  'em 
so  much  no  more.  Don't  bodder  me.  De  liddle  chiltren  vill 
look  for  me  in  vain. 

[I'tijt'*  ,it  hix  pipe  violently,  and  reads.     A  knock  at  the  door  is 
heard. 

Santa  Clans.  Who  is  das?     Come  in. 
Enter  a  Mail-carrier,  iritli  a  bug  dragg/iir/  In  hi  ml  hint  filed  with 

letters.     Lifting  his  cap  in  greeting,  t/ie  Mail-carrier  opens  his 

bag,  and  pours  a  heap  uf  letters  mi  the  table. 

Mail-carrier.  Good  -  evening,  sir.  It's  pretty  frosty  outside. 
(  Warms  his  hamh  bi/  the  fire.)  I  suppose  you'll  be  starting  soon 
on  your  journey  to  the  South. 

Santa  ('/mix.  No,  1  don't  go  dis  year.  I  has  de  rheumatics  very 
bad.  I'm  not  young  like  I  vas  once.  No.  Dis  fire  and  de  com- 
pany of  my  Frau  (iraring  hishand  courteously  towards  his  wife)  are 
good  enough  for  me. 

Mail  i-iin-ier.  What's  that  you  say,  sir?  You  are  not  going  this 
year? 

San tn  Clans.  Dat's  vot  I  says. 

Mrs.  Santa  Clans.  He  feels  quite  worn  out,  poor  fellow.  I  am 
sure  he  is  not  to  be  blamed.  Let  us  see  what  these  letters  say. 
Here,  Bertha,  come  and  read  some  of  them.  My  eyes  are  a  litt'le 
dim. 

[Bertha  rises  and  goes  to  the  table,  breaks  open  several  letters, 
n  ml  1'iadx. 

Bertha.  This  is  from  the  head  of  the  firm  of  toy  manufactur- 
ers, Nuremberg: 

"DEAR  SANTA  CLAUS, — We  have  had  an  unusually  busy  sea- 
son, and  have  finished  an  immense  number  of  Ihe  finest  toys.  Many 
are  new  and  most  ingenious  in  construction.  Our  mechanical  toys 
we  are  sure  you  will  like.  The  brass  band,  the  hand-organ,  and 
monkey  play  real  tunes,  making  the  proper  motions,  when  wound 
up.  Our  Bluebeard  and  Puss-in-boots  are  said  by  every  one  to 
be  among  our  finest  contrivances.  Our  trains  of  cars  and  steam- 
boats are  better  than  we  have  ever  turned  out.  In  short,  we  have 
made  extraordinary  efforts  to  meet  the  demands  of  this  approach- 
ing Christmas.  We  await  your  orders,  sir,  which,  allow  us  to  re- 
mind you,  are  later  than  usual. 

"  We  are,  dear  sir,  yours  most  respectfully, 

"  TOY-MANUFACTURERS,  Nuremberg." 

Fritz.  Oh,  papa!     Bring  me  a  hand-organ  and  monkey  ! 

Santa.  Glaus.  It  makes  no  difference.  I  hab  served  dat  firm 
many,  many  years.  Dey  shoost  depends  on  me.  I  don't  make 
deir  fortunes  no  more.  I  don't  go. 

Mrs.  Santa  Clans.  Read  another  letter,  dear? 

Bertha  (reads).  "  DEAR,  SANTA  GLADS, — I  am  a  little  girl  in 
an  orphan  asylum.  My  father  and  mother  are  dead,  but  I  have 
a  nice  home  here.  I  always  had  a  good  time  on  Christmas  at 
my  other  home.  But  here  the  matron  says  it  has  been  hard 
times,  and  she  can't  afford  to  give  us  a  Christmas.  Now,  dear 
Santa  Glaus,  can't  you  come  here  just  as  you  used  to  do  at  my 
old  home,  when  my  papa  and  mamma  were  alive,  and  brine  us 
all  just  one  toy?  There's  a  fine  chimney  on  the  north  side  of  the 
house,  and  I  will  hang  my  stocking  there,  and  get  the  other  little 
orphans  to  hang  theirs,  too,  all  somewhere  in  that  room.  Good- 
by,  dear  Santa  Claus. 

"  Your  little  friend  STELLA  STEBBINS. 

P.S. — "Don't  forget  the  address,  please." 

Santa  Clans  (musing).  I  knows  dot  Shtella  Shtebbins.  Sober 
barcntsisdead?  Too  bad !  too  bad !  Veil,  I'm  sorry.  But  I  don't 

g°- 

Bertha.  Papa,  you  may  take  my  French  doll  to  that  little  girl, 
if — if — you  will  bring  me  something  else. 

Santa  Claus.  Don't  talk.  My  mind  is  made  oop;  I  don't  shange. 
I  sclays  shoost  here,  py  dis  fire.  It's  bretty  cold  out,  hey? 

[To  the  Mail-carrier. 

Mail-carrier.  It's  fine  Christmas  weather,  sir.  Crisp  and  clear. 
It  is  no  colder  than  you  have  often  been  out  in,  I  think. 

Santa  Clans.  Veil,  I  can't  stand  vat  I  could  once. 

Bertha.  Papa,  here  is  a  letter  from  Minnesota.  It  is  from  a 
little  girl  who  signs  herself  Alice.  Do  listen: 

"  DEAR  SANTA  CLAUS, — I  am  one  of  those  poor  little  children 
whose  homes  have  been  burned  by  the  great  forest  fires.  Our 


*  This  Christmas  entertainment  is  published  thus  early  in  the  season  to  give  any  Sunday-school  SupL-rhnendent  sufficient  time  to  make  the  necessary  prepa- 
rations for  having  members  of  his  Sunday-school  present  it  on  Christmas  eve. 


68 


HARPER'S   YOUNG   PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


family  all  escaped — papa  and  mamma,  the  boys  and  me.  Papa 
says  he's  glad  of  that,  but  he  is  so  discouraged!  He  says  it  makes 
him  crazy  to  hear  about  Christmas;  lie  can  only  just  find  bread 
for  six  hungry  mouths  like  mine.  Don't  you  think  you  could 
bring  me  the  bound  volumes  of  YOUNG  PEOPLE  to  read?  I 
haven't  a  single  book  left.  And  baby  Tom  would  like  a  wagon, 
and  Arthur  a  sled,  and  Fred  a  cap  (he  hasn't  any.  and  mamma 
ties  a  handkerchief  on  his  he.-id).  and  Bert  a  game  of  some  kind. 
The  boys  wouldn't  think  of  asking  }Tou  for  anything,  but  I  am  a 
girl,  and  girls  think  of  a  great  many  things.  Please  come  this 
way  first,  and  go  to  the  prosperous  people  last.  They  will  let 
you  just  this  once.  I  am  your  little  friend. 

ALTCE." 

Santa  Glaus.  What's  dot  about  fire?    I  didn't  hear  nodings. 

Mail-carrier.  Wh_y,  didn't  you  read  the  papers?  It  was  in  Sep- 
tember, I  believe.  A  good  many  people  lost  their  homes,  and 
some  I  heir  lives. 

Santa  Claus.  Is  dot  so?  Ko,  I  bin  asleep,  a  long  nap.  I  hab 
not  seen  about  dis  fire.  Too  bad! 

[A  kiitn-k  fit  tin'  iloor.     Sound  of  sle iyh-bells  outside. 
Enli-r  Reindeer-boy — if  possible  one  who  am  sing.     He  is  dressed 

for  cold  ireather,  in  overcoat,  cap,  ear-muffler,  and  mittens. 

I!'  i ndeer-boy.  Good-day,  sir.  Fine  cold  weather!  The  sleigh 
is  read}'.  The  reindeer  are  at  the  door,  impatient  to  be  off. 

[Sings. 

RHYME    OF    THE    REINDEER. 

Accompaniment  of  sleigh-bells  oiit.sidf  to  the  music.  Ail:»['ted  from  H  German  air. 


Sure  and  fleet  are  the  rein-deer's  feet,  O  -  ver  the  fro-zen 


ground  they  skim,  they  skim.      Far  and  near,  far  and  near  are  the 


children  dear,          Wait-ing  for  San-ta  and  call-ing  him,  call-ing 

£fe 


y 


him. 


j  San     -    ta  Claus  is        nev  -  er    cross, 
j  Christ-mas  bells  with    sil  -  v'ry  swells 


I     -j»-  f*  -m-   [_J|U_^   fjFJLj*'"?!, , T 


*«„  — 


Jol-ly,  and      kind,     and  full         of         fun  !       Rein-deer, 

Jin-gle  and 


d      clash    as    the     rein  -  deer      ny !        Hur  -  ry, 


haste,         rein-deer,     haste    and    cross    the        waste, 
scur-ry,      hur  -  ry,     scur-ry  o'er    hills     and       dells ! 


Bring  the     i  -  dol    of       ev  -  'ry     one,    ev-  'ry  one.  J 
It      is      San-ta  Claus  pass  -  ing    by,    pass-ing  by.    l" 


=3=    z=?§n:3=;=^ 


.^iiifii  Clittis.  You  can  take  dose  reindeers  out,  and  put  'cm  in 
dcir  pasture.  I  got  no  use  for  'em.  I  don't  go  dis  year. 

Reindeer-boy  (in  great' astonishment).  What  do  you  say?  You 
are  not  going?  And  won't  there  be  any  Christmas?  Great  Scott! 
Vim  don't  mean  it,  sir? 

s,nitii  C'/rnts.  I  said  I  should  not  go,  and  vat  I  says  I  means. 
[Reindeer-boy  faces  nut/it  m'<    n'/'t/i  hands  in  his  /»;,•/</*,  n/ni 
gives  utterance  to  a  proloni/nl  -irJtistlc.     "Then  my  occupa- 
tion is  gone."    Tlinnrs  off  on  rcoat  and  cap,  sits  on  //n  Jl,«>r. 
inn!  liinlilx  Frilz  n  hnn*<  nf  lilm-l, ».    I.eriha  f:i/,:ix  uji  nnnthi  i- 
litti'r,  iiml  in  about  to  read,  irln  n  n  /.  IKH-/,  ix  limnl. 
Santa  Glaus.  Gome  here  in. 
Enter  a  Messenger-boy,  puffing  and  breathing  Jiard,  </.«  if  he  hud  been 

running. 

Messf  iii/i  >'-hii>/.  Here  is  a  letter  for  Santa  Claus  with  a  special- 
deliverv  stamp  on  it.  It  was  brought  by  a  special  train  from 
Paris,  and  I  have  run  all  the  way  from  the  station.  I  feared  you 
would  be  gone,  Santa  Claus.  I  am  in  time,  I  see. 

fvuita  Clans.  Blenty  of  time,  my  poy.  Help  yourself  to  an 
apple. 

Reindeer-boy.  Here,  give  me  the  letter.  I'll  read  it,  Bertha. 
From  the  head  manufacturer  of  dolls,  Paris.  Sealed  with  the 
seal  of  the  French  Republic,  M.  Casimir  -  Perier,  President.  I 
guess  this  is  a  letter  of  some  importance.  [Beads. 

"  PAKIS,  December  24, 1894. 

"DEAR  SANTA  CLAUS, — This  is  to  inform  you  thai  our  ware- 
houses are  literally  bursting  with  French  dolls.  They  are  of  all 
sizes,  from  one  inch  long  to  those  resembling  full-grown  children. 
Many  of  them  talk  a  dozen  or  twenty  sentences.  One  lot  recites 
part  of  the 'Lady  of  the  Lake.'  Some  sing  'My  Kitty  is  gone 
up  a  Tree.'  A  novelty  this  year  is  the  Twins,  made  exactly  alike, 
and  when  their  hands  are  joined  they  do  the  same  things  at  the 
same  time.  They  are  named  Castor  and  Pollux,  and  they  recite 
in  concert  '  The  boy  stood  on  the  burning  deck.'  Another  nov- 
elty is  a  young  lady  playing  the  piano.  She  sils  at  an  instrument 
of  our  own  contrivance,  and  executes  '  The  Blue  Danube 'with 
perfection. 

"We  are  quite  impatiently  awaiting  your  orders,  and  hope  you 
will  give  our  wares  the  preference  over  all  other  competitors. 

"  Au  revoir. 

"FitoM  THE  HEAD  OF  THE  GREAT  WOULD-FAMODS 
FIRM  OF  FRENCH  DOLL  MANUFACTURERS." 

Bertha  (clasping  her  hands  ecstatically).  Oh,  papa!  oh,  dear 
papa!  How  beautiful! 

(She  comes  coannr/ly  to  Santa  Claus,  as  if  she  would  put  her 

arms  around  his  neck. 

Santa  Clans  (pushing  her  off.)    N"o.  you  don't.    You  can't  come 

none  of  dcse  games  over  me.     Dose  wonderful  French  dolls  will 

get  left  dis  time.    My  rheumatics  is  too  bad.    I  don't  go  no  more. 

[Mrs.  Santa  Claus /«r£»/is  Messenger-boy  t"  l«  r  «'</<.  irhixji,  i-s 

in  his  ear,  and  ht  l«irm  tin  i-<«»n.    Ax  //••  f/mx  out,  enter  Sack 

Frost.   He  dannx  uiiiljitiiijix  iirminil.  pulls  Fritz's  hair,  and 

still  dancing,  speaks. 

JACK  FROST'S  ADDRESS. 
Hurrah!  for  the  time  when  the  nights  are  long, 

And  the  ice  grows  firm  on  the  brook  and  river; 
When  the  air  is  cold,  and  the  frozen  mould 

Is  enough  to  make  you  shake  and  shiver. 


NOVEMBER  27,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


Then,  Santa  Glaus,  is  your  lime  and  mine; 

II".    come  to  the  front  when  the  north   wind  blows; 
\Ve  string  our  jewels  on  holly  and  pine, 

And  paint  the  cheek  of  the  child  with  rose. 
Hurrah  for  our  partnership,  Claus  and  Frost! 

You  are  the  saint,  and  I  but  Jack! 
But  which  of  us  two  enjoys  it  most — 

I  with  my  icicles?  you  with  your  pack? 
When  do  you  start,  my  good  old  friend? 

And  what  are  your  plans?     But  pardon  me; 
I  am  ready  and  willing  my  help  to  leud. 

For  now  on  the  march  you  should  surely  be. 
Santa  Claus.  Veil  done,  Jacky.    I  like  to  hear  you  speak  your 
leetle  piece.     But  no  matter.     I  don'  go  dis  year. 

[Jack  Frost  slops  dancing  and  looks  at  Santa  Claus  with  great 

surprise.     Peers  into  his  face. 

,/ni-k  Frost.  May  I  be  allowed  to  express  my  feelings  in  the 
German  vernacular?  Donner  und  blitzen! 

[He-enter  Messenger-boy  with  a  bottle. 

Messenger -boy.  I  have  been  to  the  Board  of  Health,  Santa 
Claus,  and  they  send  you  a  bottle  of  St.  Isaac's  oil,  said  to  be  an 
infallible  cure  for  rheumatism.  Now,  sir,  if  Jack  rubs  one  knee 
aud  I  the  other,  perhaps  we  can  limber  you  up  in  time. 

[Messenger-boy  and  Jack  Frost  kneel  before  Santa  Claus  nml 
prepare  to  rub  his  legs.     In  great  alarm  Santa  Glaus  pushes 
biifk  his  chnir. 
Santa  Glaus.    Dunks,  danks,  tear   poys.      You   are   von  very 

§oot leetle  poys.     But  I  vil  rub  myself  by-aud-by.     Gif  me  dot 
t.  Isaac's  oil.     1  dauks  you  ten  t'ousaud  times. 

[Takes  bottle  and  sets  it  upon  table. 

Enter  Elves  of  the  Woods— four  or  two  little  boys  dressed  in  green 
cambric  and  (where possible  to  obtain)  sprigs  of  holly.     Bowing  to 
Mr.  ami  Mrs.  Santa  Glaus  and  the  audience,  they  repeat  in  concert  : 
From  deep  green  woods  we  come, 

From  elm  and  pine  aud  fir; 
We  tell  you,  dearest  Santa  Glaus, 
The  forests  are  astir. 

The  sleeping  sap  has  thrilled, 

And  baby  leaves  unborn 
Are  dreaming  of  the  spring, 

For  dawns  the  Christmas  morn. 
We  elves  and  fays  are  sent 

To  give  you  greeting  fair, 
And,  dear  old  Santa  Claus, 

We  bow  before  your  chair. 

If  we  can  help  along, 

Command  us  as  you  may; 
The  hardest  work  we  do  for  you 

Will  seem  the  lightest  play. 

Sanla  Glaus.  Agoot  leetle  biece.  and  you  have  spoke  it  egsceed- 
ingly  veil,  mine  Elves.  But  I  haf  decided  to  sday  at  home  dis 
year.  I  don't  go  no  more  mil  dose  reindeers. 

Elves  of  the  Wood.  That  is  very  singular.     What  is  the  reason? 
Mrs.  Santa  Glaus.   He  is  getting  old,  dear  Elves,  and  does  not 
feel  able  to  run  up  and  down  chimneys  as  he  used  to.     It  is  too 
bad.  isn't  it?     But  perhaps  you  cannot  blame  him. 

[Jack  Frost  cuts  uji  antics  nil  the  time.  He  throws  up  an 
apple  like  a  bull,  and  catchix  it.  He  tosses  an  apple  to  each 
of  the  Elves.  Then  he  jiine/ies  tin  ir  mis,  .v  and  sings. 

JACK    FROST'S    SONG. 


He's    so       ti  -  red,      poor     old   fel  -  low !    Yet     his  look     is 


^Sta  ^Ei--E 


\  i.  In      his    eye      I      see     a     twin-kle, 
rath  -  er         mel-low.  -  2.  Lit  -  tie    folk    in  farm  and    by-way, 
'  3.  All    the      lit  -  tie   mo-ments  fly  -  ing, 


On     his  brow  a.    fun  -  ny  wrin-kle.  With  rr.y  ca-pers  droll  and 

Swarm  and  crowd  on  street  and  highway,  Clamor,  shout  and  dance  a 

All    the   hap  -  py  chil-dren  cry-ing,  Come,  dear  Saint,  let  no  one 


-" 1-  _L— — . 

-*=S— g=rf=-^5^  =£=^E*Et       ' 


an  -  tic,  May-be   I  can  drive  him  fran-tic.     J 
measure,  Full  of  ea-ger-ness  and  pleas-ure.  -  He's  so    ti  -  red, 
flout  you,  For  we  can-not  do  with-out  you. 


=^rc= 
^  1    -,        • 


poor  old  fel  -  low,     Yet     his  look     is    rath  -  er         mel-low. 


L 

1*    **r       •&     *    -*•    -   *     -rVl 


A  knock,  Kni,  r  Miss  Aurora  Borealis,  a  young  lady  showily 
dressed  in  red  aud  yellow  cheese-cloth,  skirt  of  red,  full  waist, 
and  large  sleeves  of  yellow.  Her  hair  should  hang  loose,  nml 
she  should  wear  a  tinsel  crown.  She  ulnmlil  l>,  \/,//, ///  «//</ 
serious  in  !n  i-  ili'/ni'iinor.  Jack  Frost  slyly  lifts  locks  of  her 
I,, iii\  iiinl  i.niniinix  In  r  dress.  He  stands  off  and  inlmirix 
her.  Mrs.  Santa  Glaus,  rising,  s/uikes  hands. 

Mrs.  Santa  Clans.  Husband,  here  is  the  young  lady,  Miss 
Aurora  Borealis. 

Santa  Claus.  Good-day,  mein  tear  Fraulein.  It  is  a  most  un- 
egsper-ted  bleasure  to  see  you  on  dis  oggasion.  You  are  welcome. 
Haf  an  ab— 

Bertha.  Oh,  hush,  papa!     She  doesn't  eat  apples. 

Hiss  Aurora  Borealis  (reei/isi. 

When  nights  are  cold  and  skies  are  dear, 
All  in  the  sunset  of  the  year, 
I  watch  the  stars  that  wheel  and  sway 
Along  the  sparkling  Milky  Way. 

Then  wilh  my  wand  of  arrowy  light 
I  rlit  along  each  heavenly  height. 
The  traveller  far  out  at  sea 
Is  joyful  at  the  sight  of  me. 

And  people,  lifting  up  their  eyes, 
Behold  my  glories  in  the  skies, 
And  walk  wilh  step  elate  and  brave, 
And  sing  a  merry,  rolling  stave. 

For  when  the  nights  are  cold  and  clear, 
It  is  the  sunset  of  the  year. 
Then  Santa  Glaus,  with  joy  and  mirth, 
Brings  dear  good-will  to  house  and  hearth. 

./.<<•/.  Frost.  I  say,  Santa  Claus,  you  wouldn't  catch  me  staying 
in  the  house  with  this  superb  creature  lighting  up  the  skies  for 
you.  She  paints  beautifully.  She  and  1  have  had  many  a  lark 
together,  haven't  we,  miss  ? 

Santa  Clans.  Dot's  so,  Jacky;  but  dere's  no  blace  like  home, 
my  poy.  De  case,  miss,  is  shoo^t  dis.  I  am  a  gread  sufferer  mit 
mein  rheumatics,  and  I  tought  I  vouldn't  go  dis  year. 

i-r  Queen  of  the  Fairies,  irit/i  thn-c  Fairies  in  //,  /•  train.     The 
are  little  girls  rf/v*.W  ///   irhili .  irith  gold  ami  silver  stars  sewed 
on  their  skirts.     On*  '<"'.</<  «tnr  adurnx  tin  (Queen's  forclitii" 
she  Imldx  it  sinnll  gnlil,  n  xe<  pti-e  tipi'i'i.l  irit/t  n  xtur. 


70 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME    XVI 


THE    FAIRIES'    SONG. 


..  Tra    -    la  -  la,   tra    -    la  -  la,  who     so    gay    As  the    fai  -  ry 

2.  Tra    -    la  -  la,   tra    -    la  -  la,  San  -  ta  Claus  We  have 

3.  Tra    -    la  -  la,   tra    -    la  -  la,  Christ-mas  cheer  Can-not 


train  at  the  close  of  day? 
come  from  the  pa-tient  moss, 
•wait  for  a  whole  round  year, 


Mer 
We 
Tra 


-  ri  -  ly,  cheer  -   i  -  ly, 
from  the  flow  -  ers  that 

-  la  -  la,   tra    -    la     la, 


—  1,,-t  —  ^—S-E,  --  *- 


now  they  come,  To  San   -  ta  Claus  in       his  north  -  ern  home. 
•wait    to     blow,     Please  won't  you  to       the  chil-drengo? 
fai  -  ries  coax,         San    -    ta  Claus  for    the    lit    -    tie  folks. 


J2 — j — ES-Ej — i-tf  -T  ?_|^I^=s_EJ_ — _£_tg__ 

Ei^i^i£si^pI^EEl|IlI 


With  dance  of     the  light -est  and  smile  of     the  bright-est,  We 
End.  for  ist  and  zd  stanzas.  End.  for  3d  stanza. 




fai-ries  will  help  you,  Oh,  dear  San-ta  Claus,    dear  San-ta  Claus. 


Jack  Frost  (tritfi  mock  concern  addressing  Queen  of  the  Fairies). 
He's  too  tired,  your  Majesty;  he's  nnt  going  this  year. 

Queen  of  Fairies.  Is  that  so,  Santa  Claus?  I  hope  Muster  Frost 
does  not  tell  me  the  truth. 

Santa,  Claus.  Veil,  yes,  ma'am,  dot's  de  (ruth.  1  tonght  I 
vouldn't  go.  I  have  a,  comfortable  home  mil  madam,  mem  Fran, 
and  I  vill  leaf  de  Christmas  bizuess  to  anoder  and  a.  younger 
man. 

Queen  of  Fairies.  But  who  will  do  it.  Santa  Claus?  I  do  not 
believe  there's  another  in  the  wide  world  who  cau  undertake  this 
job.  You  see,  you  have  done  it  so  man}'  years. 

Siinta  Claim.  Dot's  shoost  it.  I  haf  done  it  already  so  many 
years.  I  don't  go  no  more. 

Knock  at  door.     Enter  Telegraph-boy.     He  presents  a  telegram 
to  Santa  Claus,  who  passes  it  to  Ids  wife. 

Mrs.  Santa  Claus  reads:  "  From  the  -  -  (Sunday)  school. 
[Here  let  the  name  of  the  school  or  Sunday-school  In-  hisi-rtid  in 


which  the  play  is  being  performed.]  Rumor  has  it  that  you  are 
not  coming.  We  hope  to  see  you.  Everybody  depends  on  you. 
There  will  be  no  pleasure  if  you  don't  come.  Children  assem- 
bling." 

Jack  Frost.  Going,  Santa  Claus? 

Sii/itu  Clftns.  No,  tear  poy. 

Miss  Aurora  Borealis.  I  don't  see  how  he  can  resist  that  appeal. 

Tilif/i'afih  Messenger.  Any  answer  for  the  Sunday-school,  sir? 

.^niita  Claus.  Shoost  answer  dot  I  don't  be  dere  dis  year.  I've 
got  rheumatics,  and — 

Jack  Frost.  Now  if  you  would  only  let  me  apply  that  infallible 
cure. 

[Snatches  up  bottle  f nun  the  table  ami  attempts  to  rub  Santa 
Claus. 

Santa  Clans.  Haf  de  gootness  to  be  quiet,  vill  you?  Eef  I  vas 
young  and  smard  lige  you  I  could  get  down  deir  furnace-pipes 
still  :  but  now  I'm  old  and  weary. 

J<.'/rtx  df  the  Woods  (slowly  and  rery  distinct!//): 

Now  lie's  old  and  weary, 

And  life  is  growing  dreary  ; 
There  isn't  any  pleasure,  and  there  won't  be  any  fun. 

Some  spell  is  wrought  upon  him, 

Some  troll  has  thought  upon  him. 
Alas!  we're  very  sorry,  but  dreadful  mischiefs  done. 

Mrs.  Sunta  Clans  (aside,  to  Telegraph  Messenger).  Don't  send 
any  answer  to  that  Sunday-school's  telegram.  I  think  he  will 
go.  [Exit  Telegraph-boy. 

Enter  Sprites  of  the  Christmas  Tree—; -four  (or  two)  little  boys, 
dressed  in  red  cambric  covered  here  and  there  with  fir  branches. 
Each  boy  can  have  a  string  of  pop. corn  around  his  neck.  Let 
/•mil  bear  in  his  hand  a  lighted  torch.  Each  one  speaks,  in  turn, 
a  stanza. 


First  Sprite. 


Second  S, 


I  perch  upon  the  highest  bough, 
And  when  the  gifts  are  given, 

In  each  I  drop  a  little  thought 
Of  the  Christ  Child  and  Heaven. 


And  I  remind  the  older  ones 

Of  those  who  have  not  many 
To  send  them  pretty  Christmas  gifts, 

Poor  dears  without  a  penny. 

Third  Sprite. 

I  fly  around  from  leaf  to  leaf, 
And  twinkle  'mid  the  tapers, 
And  o'er  the  children's  faces  peep 
When  they  untie  their  papers. 

Fourth  Sprite. 

I  take  my  stand,  in  every  land, 
IJcsidc  my  dear  Kriss  Kringle. 
You  hear  my  laugh,  as  sweet  by  half 
As  is  his  gay- bells'  jingle. 

Santa  Clans.  Much  opliged,  mein  chiltren.  Frau,  gif  "em  an 
abble.  Has  de  trade  in  Christmas  drees  been  heafy  dis  year? 

First  of  the  Christmas-tree  Sprites.  Very  heavy.  Last  year  it 
was  hard  times,  and  but  few  trees  were  cut.  This  year  loads  and 
loads  have  been  shipped,  and  every  bod}'  is  expecting  you. 

[All  eat  apples. 

Ki/tta  Clans.  Is  dot  really  so?     Veil,  I  don't  50. 

Christmas-tree  Sprites.  What  does  he  say?    He  doesn't  go? 

Santa  Clans.  Dot's  vot  1  NIVS. 

Enter  Knights  of  the  Snow-plough— four  boys  dressed  in  white 
cheest  i-intli.  intli  strips  of  white  cotton  wadding  sewed  on  the  bottom 
i'f  tin1  x/.irts.  Each  has  a  small  shovel  in  his  hand. 


SONG    OF    THE    KNIGHTS    OP    THE    SNOW-PLOUGH. 


1.  Ho  \  ho  \  with  shov  -  els    and  spades    we  go,  And  we 

2.  Ho !  ho !    we      go          where  drifts     are  deep,  And  we 

3.  Ho!  ho!  we've  ley-eled    the      way      for  you,  Good 

4.  Ho !  ho !  we've  climbed    to       chim  -  ney  tops,  And 


NOVEMBER  2T,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


71 


care  not    for    the  weath-er  ;       We  wan  -  der    high,      and  we 
cut     the  path   be-fore  us !        We      toiled  when    you        were 
Saint  with  rein-deer  mer-ry,      We    like      your  eyes      like  the 
cleared  the  path  be-fore  us,     You've  on-ly    to     fol-low  and 


•wan  -  der  low,  But  we  brave  -  ly  keep  to  -  geth-er. 
fast  a  -  sleep,  And  the  stars  were  shin  -  ing  o'er  us. 
clear  blue  skies,  And  your  cheeks  as  red  as  cher-rieb. 
•where  it  stops,  We  will  give  the  word  in  cho-rus. 


Ho !  ho !  ho  !  ho !  ho !  ho  !  ho !  ho !  ho !  ho !  ho !   ho !    ho  !   ho ! 


Santa  Claim-  So  you  haf  de  paths  all  shovelled,  baf  you?  It 
does  me  sorry  you  haf  so  mooch  vork  for  nodings.  I  don't  go 
dis  year. 

Knights  of  the  Snow-plough.  What  does  he  say?  He  won't  go 
this  year? 

Jack  Frost.  He  is  old  and  weary.     Now  if  he'd  let  me  rub — 

Santa  Clans  (shouts).   Poy,  you   shoost   give   me   dot   pottle. 
So!     I  vill  put  it  in  mein  bucket,  and  you  can't  say  nodings  more 
about  dot  rubbing  bizuess. 
Enter  Telegraph-boy.     Hands  a  telegram  to  Bertha,  who  reads. 

Bertha.  From  the  same  school,  father,  that  sent  the  first  tele- 
gram: "No  answer  received.  Hovv  soon  shall  we  expect  you? 
Children  assembled.  Everything  ready.  Come." 

Santa  Clans.  I  vish  dey  vouldn't  bodder  deirselves  mit  dose 
delegrams.  I  don't  go.  Shoost  answer  and  say  blease  to  egs- 
cuse  me  dis  time.  I'm  a  sick  man. 

Fritz.  Oh,  father!  you  are  not  really  sick, 

Santa  Clans.  Yes,  I  am  sick  mit  all  dese  benples  coming  here, 
and  dese  letters  and  delegrams.  and  dis  surbrise  barty.    But  you're 
all  bery  velcome.     Help  yourselves  to  abbles. 
Enter  a  delegation  from  the  school  irhich  sent  tin  /<  lit/ruins — two  bot/s 

and  two  girls  dressed  in  their  •unnul  <7/r.«,  with  hats  and  coats. 

Little,  Girl.  Dear  Santa  Claus,  our  superintendent  has  sent  us 
to  inquire  if  you  will  come  to  see  us  immediately.  He  sent  you 
two  telegrams,  but  you  did  not  answer,  and  he  is  beginning  to 
get  anxious.  He  says  he  can't  possibly  spare  you  from  our 
Christmas  celebration.  Perhaps  you  will  come  right  along  with  us. 

titnta  ('liii/x  (slowing  signs  of  iin«ii<iii,xx\.  My  tear  children,  I 
am  sorry  you  haf  such  a  journey,  and  for  nodings.  Don't  you 
see  I  am  old  and  vorn  out.  And  I  tought  you  vould  gif  me  a 
rest  dis  time.  I  vish  not  to  go.  In  fact,  I  liaf  decided  not  to  go. 
Warm  yourselves,  my  tears,  and  take  an  abble. 

Enter  (two  or  four')  members  of  the  mission-school.  They  are  shab- 
bily dressed.  The  girls  have  shawls  over  their  heads,  the  boys  tip- 
pets. Their  voices  are  sad.  Their  whole  demeanor  is  abject. 
They  kneel  before.  Santa  Claus,  and  say,  in  concert: 

We  haven't  many  pleasures;  the  house  is  often  cold; 

We're  sometimes  very  hungry :  we're  often  very  sad  ; 
But.  the  blessed  Lord,  who  gathers  the  little  lambs  in  fold, 

Has  always  sent  us  Christmas  day  to  make  us  blithe  and  glad. 

'  Then  we  go  to  great  cathedrals,  and  we  hear  the  organ  swell, 

And  voices  sweet  as  angels'  sing  the  carols  pure  and  clear. 
Then  we  listen  to  the  story  that  is  ever  sweet  to  tell, 
How  Christ  is  born  in  Bethlehem,  on  Christmas  of  the  year. 


And  best  of  all  is  Santa  Claus!     We  love  his  very  look. 

O  Santa  Claus  !  dear  Santa  Claus  !  behold  us  at  your  feet  ! 
We  do  not  want  you  for  the  toy,  the  coat,  the  picture-book  ; 

Oh  no  !  oh  no!  dear  Santa  Claus.     'Tis  you  yourself  we  greet. 

So  please  be  very  gentle.     Please  listen  to  our  prayer. 

Why,  this  is  Christmas  to  the  poor!  just  Santa  Claus's  day. 
The  children,  oh,  the  children!  they  are  waiting  everywhere, 

And  a  million  little  hands  are  waved  to  cheer  you  on  your  way. 

Siintii  Claus  (in  great  excitement).  I  cannot  stand  dis  no  more 
no  longer.  Frau !  fraui  get  my  overcoat.  Here  you  (to  Rein- 
deer-boy), harness  up  dose  reindeers  pretty  soon  quick.  Fritz — 
Berta — vere  he  mein  mittens  and  fur  cab?  Vill  you  hurry,  mein 
goot  chiltren?  I  brings  you  somedings  nice.  Come  on,  you 
sbrites  and  elves  and  knights,  ve  vill  go  and  mage  von  merry 
Christmas  for  de  poor  chiltren.  I  don't  feel  old  no  more.  Liddle 
chiltren,  your  Santa  Claus  vill  come. 

Jack  Frost.  I  guess  that  bottle  of  St.  Isaac's  oil  in  his  pocket 
has  cured  his  rheumatism. 

Santa  Clans.  Somedings  has  cured  it.  I  feel  smard  and  able 
to  climb  dose  small  chimneys.  I  vill  go,  shoost  as  usuai.  Ven 
dose  poor  lectle  dings  from  de  mission-school  comes  to  me  so 
bitiful,  so  bleating,  mein  is  not  de  heart  of  stone  I  haf  to  go. 
Tell  your  Sunday-school  I  vill  be  dereas  soon  as  bossible.  I  am  on 
de  vay.  Berhaps  dot  Friiulein  Borealis  vill  rite  mit  me  a  lectle 
vay,  so  as  to  lide  up  de  road.  Vere  are  de  toys?  So!  Now,  den. 

[Everybody  helps  Santa  Claus  to  get  ready.  Some  put  his  cape 
over  his  shoulders.  Some  strap  bags  of  toys  on  his  buck. 
Mrs.  Santa  Claus  takes  off  his  dressing -go-wn,  puts  on  his  cap, 
and  keeps  cool  amid  the  general  I'j'cih'inent.  Jack  Frost 
whirls  Miss  Aurora  Borealis  in  a  dance.  The  Elves  of  the 
Woods  and  Fairies  cliixp  Immls  and  march  up  and  down. 
The  Knights  of  the  Snow  plough  pretend  to  dig  furiously. 
Bertha  catches  up  Fritz  and  kisses  him.  Everybody  must 
do  something  till  Santa  Claus  is  ready  for  his  jour/icy.  Then 
tiny  form  in  a  tableau,  something  like  the  following  : 

MESSENGER-BOY.  TELEGRAPH- HOY. 

Miss  AUCORA  BORICALIS.     Mns  SANTA  CLAUS. 
RKINDKICK-UOY  MAIL-OAICKIEB. 

ELVP,.  tiPEITI'.S. 

KNIGHTS.  SANTA  CLAUS.  FAIRIKS. 

MISSION-SCHOOL  CHILDREN.  SONUAY-SOUOOL  DELEGATION. 

BKRTHA.     FRITZ. 

\.\lt  xini/.  mill  irnre  fnn/iHrri'/iiifx  and  flags.     Sleigh-bells  ring 
outside. 

HURRAH!    HURRAH!    FOR    OLD    SANTA    CLAUS. 


Hur-rah!  hur-rah !  for     old    San  -  ta   Claus,     Ban-ners  are 

>  -> 

i ' it~i '     >cn •••••"•^•"••B — i r — ' 

i        i        r  * 


crrn~— r"r~—  ~~_n(:~ —  __ 


*.        ^  I 

^ — i • K — i 1 e — i ' h 1 


wav  -  ing,  and  sleigh- bells  ring  ;  Hur  -  rah,    Hur-rah,     for 


_       • —r=* n-g 

rH-t=r=5=J=t===5=d-B 
•  =l-." — 


old    San  -  ta  Claus,   Mer  -  ri   -  ly,  cheer-i    -   ly  shout  and  sing. 


[This  refrain  to  be  repeated.) 

CURTAIN. 


72 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


A  THANKSGIVING  TURKEY  MADE   OF  A 

GOLDEN-ROD   STALK. 

/""^HILDREN  iu  these  days  have  a  much  better  time,  1  think, 
V_y  than  they  used  to  when  I  was  a  little  girl,  although  there 
was  plenty  of  fun  going  on  then,  I  remember  well.  Nowadays 
even  little  tots  are  taught,  how  to  use  their  fingers  and  make  all 
sorts  of  pretty  things  in  clay,  to  embroider,  to  make  picture- 
frames  and  lots  of  other  useful  things  which  are  splendid  to 
give  for  Christmas  presents.  The  kindergarten  teachers  are  all 
the  time  puzzling  their  brains  to  find  new  devices  to  please  and 
interest  their  pupils;  and  last  summer  a  teacher — such  a  pretty 
young  teacher  as  she  was,  too ! — thought  how  nice  it  would  be  to 
make  some  fancy  little  things  for  Thanksgiving  day.  You 
know  everybody  likes  to  have  their  dinner- table  on  Thanks- 
giving day  look  pretty  and  different  from  everybody  else's,  aud 
that  ou  that  day  the  children  eat  their  dinner  with  the  big  peo- 
ple; so  it  is  very  nice  if  the  children  have  some  interest  in  the 
table  decorations.  Aud  so  this  pretty  young  teacher  kept,  puz- 
zling to  think  of  something  the  children  could  make  and  put  on 
the  Thanksgiving  table  to  surprise  the  grown-up  people. 

She  was  walking  iu  the  fields  with  two  or  three  of  her  little 
pupils,  and  they  picked  some  bunches  of  golden-rod  which  was 
then  (late  in  August)  beginning  to  flower.    Golden-rod, yon  may 
remember,   is   our    national   flower,  the  children    voting    it   so. 
Among     the     bunches    of    golden- 
rod  was  one  that  had  a  queer  swell- 
ing on  the  stalk  that  looked  like  a 
chrysalis.  When  the  teacher  exam- 
ined it  closely  she  thought, "Why, 
how  much  it  looks  like  the  body  of 
a     fat    turkey!"       And     then     she 
dropped     all    her    golden-rod,   and 
clapped   her  hands  iu  delight,  say- 
ing. "  Oh,  I  know  now  what  the  ehil- 
dre.n  can  make  for  Thanksgiving!" 

You  cau  see  in  the  picture  just 
how  it  looks.  The  body  and  neck 
arc  of  the  goldeu-rod  stalk.  The 
head  is  made  of  an  apple-seed,  sewed 
on  with  the  small  end  of»  the  seed 
pointing  out.  Sometimes  the  stalk 
of  the  golden-rod  grows  so  that  it 
forms  a  head,  and  then  there  is  no 
need  of  the  apple-seed  at  all.  The 
tail  is  made  of  a  still'  piece  of  arbor 
vila-.  and  the  legs  are  formed  by  two 
pins  stuek  through  a  piece  of  card. 
The  heads  of  the  pins  must  be  ou 
the  outside  of  the  card,  and  to  give 
a  neat  finish  to  the  whole  thing 
should  have  a  second  card  pasted 
over  them.  If  the  card  be  large 
eiiciNgh.  I  In  name  <>!'  I  lie  pel  sun  MI 
whose  plate  it  is  placed  cau  be 
written  on  it. 

I  hope  you  little  people  will  think 
the  Thanksgiving  turkey  as  clever 
as  I  do,  aud  that  you  will  go 
straight  to  work  to  make  some. 
They  are  not  hard  to  do,  if  yon  only 
work  carefully  and  keep  your  hands 
clean,  so  as  uot  to  soil  or  muss  the 
work. 


BOBBIE'S   THANKSGIVING. 

BY  JOHN  KENDRICK   BANGS. 
"  V\7"11AT  MIII  I  thankful  for?"  said  Bob,  as  he  sat  down  to 

W     dine — 

"I'm  glad  I'm  me  for  one  thing,  and  that  what  I  have  is  mine; 
I'm  glad  my  dad's  my  daddy,  and  I'm  glad  that   ma   is  ma, 
And  that  my  little  brothers  are  just  who  and  what  they  are. 

"  I'm  glad  I  live  in  this  old  house  where  I  was  born  and  bred, 
I'm  glad  my  hair  is  curly,  aud  I  don't  care  if 'tis  red; 
It  serves  its  purpose  just  as  well  as  'twould  if  it  were  pink 
Or  green  or  yellow,  blue  or  gray,  or  black  as  Popsy's  ink. 

"I'm   glad    that   John's   our   hired  man;    that  Norah    is   the 

maid; 
That  Bridget  does  the   cooking,  though  sometimes  she   makes 

me  'fraid 

By  telling  ine  queer  stories  'bout  that  busybody  Jake, 
Who  fell  into  the  batter-bowl  and  got  cooked  iu  the  cake. 

"I'm  glad  that  turkey  's  turkey,  and  that  pie  is  simply  pie — 
I  see  two  lovely  mince  ones  from  the  corner  of  my  eye — 
I'm  glad  to-day's  Thanksgiving,  and  there's  plenty  here  to  eat. 
With  some  to  spare  for  some  poor  boy  who's  waiting  in   the 
street. 

"In  fact,  I'm  thankful  as  cau   be,  more  than  I'd  hope  to  say 
If  I  kept  on  a-talking  for  the  balance  of  the  day, 
Because  things  are  just  as  they  are,  and  not  a  single  jot, 
No,  not  the  slightest  little  bit,  like  what  they're  really  not." 


0; 


THE   TONIES    AND    THE   STORK. 

summer,  just  as  the  wheat  was  growing  nicely,  a  stork 
began  to  come  into  the  tonics'  field  every  day  hunting  for 
toads.  This  annoyed  them  greatly,  as  they  saw  that  he  was 
treading  down  the  wheat.  At  last  it  was  decided  that  the  vil- 
lage constable  should  go  into  the  field  and  drive  it  out.  But 
they  noticed  he  had  very  large  feet,  aud  would  tread  down  more 
wheat  than  the  stork.  Then  they  advised  that  they  should  put 
him  ou  a  platform,  aud  thus  carry  him  through  the  field.  They 
put  the  constable  on  a  platform,  which  eight  men  bore  through 
the  field, so  that  he  could  drive  out  the  stork.  Not  a  bit  of 
wheat  did  he  tread  down. 


A    MATTER    OP   TASTE. 


PUNOII.    "MlISSY    SAKRS,  Jolly,  WHAT    A    I-OT  OF   OH1I.DIIEN  !'' 
.TUHY.     "  YKS,   AM'    QIIITl:    1'KKTTY    TOO,   Kll?" 

PUNCH.     "KlNl>    OF — HUT    TllEy'ltK    NOT     A8PUETTYAS    OU11HAHY     UltUK.        WllY,  TUKRE     ISN'T     ON  It     OF 
's    <;ilT    A     NOSl<:    MOI'.lc'N    TWO    IN<1HK6    LONG." 

Jl'DY.   "THAT'S  so — /  JMKN'T  SHE  WHAT  THL-  PUUK  LITTLE  THINGS  HATE  GOT  TO  TALK  Tiir.orr.n  " 


HARPER'S 


1 

>; 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


Copyright,  1894,  by  H»»PKB  4  BEOTMEBS.     All  Rislits  Reserved. 


PUBLISHED     WKKKLY. 
VOL.  XVI.— NO.  788. 


NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY,  DECEMBER  4,    1894. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO    DOLLAKS    A    YKAK. 


••MEAX    AS    WERE    THE    SURROUNDINGS,  I    ASSURE    YOU    IT    WAS    A    TRAGIC    SCENE." 

[SEE  "CAPTAIN  BIU.T,"  PACK  74.] 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


CAPTAIN   BILLY. 

BY  LUCY  LILLIE. 

WHEN  the  General  invited  the  Fortescue  girls  and 
their  friends  to  spend  an  evening  in  the  house  on 
the  Square,  it  \v;is  always  understood  that  part  of  the  en- 
tertainment was  to  he  a  "  war  story,"  and  on  the  special 
evening  I  refer  to  a  barrel  of  apples,  sent  from  the  "  north- 
ern part  of  the  State,"  gave  the  subject. 

"  Oil  yes,  Molly,"  said  the  General  to  the  girl  whom  the 
old  nurse  now  called  "  the  eldest  Miss  Fortescue,"  "  you 
can  put  the  apples  out,  and  they've  just  made  rne  remem- 
ber I  never  told  you  about  'Tobacco  Billy,'"  and  as  his 
eager  auditors  settled  themselves  comfortably  about  the 
fire,  the  General,  with  his  peculiar  quiet  smile,  began. 

"  Just  hand  me  down  that  old  photograph  in  tbe  little 
black  frame;  there  you  are — poor  old  Tobacco  Billy!" 

"  Old!"  exclaimed  Tom  Fortescue,  in  surprise,  for  the 
picture  was  that  of  a  plain-looking,  rather  gawky  lad  of 
only  nineteen — a  "boy  in  blue  " — with  honesty  and  fear- 
lessness in  every  line  of  his  homely,  gentle  face. 

"  Well,  I  don't  say  in  years,  perhaps,"  said  the  General, 
"  but  in  wisdom.  Anyway,  here's  his  story.  Give  that 
coal  a  stir,  will  you.  Now,  then,  here  we  are: 

We  were  in  camp,  not  very  far  from  Charleston,  and 
it  was  a  pretty  serious  business  with  us.  You  see,  we 
hadn't  the  least  idea  what  the  enemy  were  tip  to.  My 
particular  friend,  Captain  Kard,  of  the  Confederate  army, 
and  I  were  talking-  abovit  it  not  long  ago,  and  he  said  he 
well  remembered  how.  on  their  side,  they  were  chuckling 
over  our  perplexity.  Well,  I  must  tell  you  that  at  the  ex- 
treme end  of  our  camp  we  had  a  bridge,  and  it  was  regu- 
larly patrolled  by  two  of  the  men  I  picked  out  for  the  pur- 
pose, and  the  "other  side"  had  a  place  beyond  similarly 
patrolled.  If  any  message  had  to  be  sent  over,  the  sentries 
reversed  their  guns  as  a  signal  of  truce,  and  word  was 
exchanged. 

Now  although  we  were  pretty  badly  off  for  provisions, 
and  even  ammunition,  it  wasn't  a  circumstance  to  the 
condition  of  tbe  "Johnnies,"  as  we  called  the  gentle- 
men over  the  way,  and,  worst  of  all,  the  poor  chaps 
hadn't  the  comfort  of  a  "smoke"  even,  which,  as  all 
soldiers  will  tell  you,  keeps  the  gnawing  feeling  of  hun- 
ger away  for  a  time  at  least.  No,  sir!  they  hadn't  five 
pounds  of  tobacco  in  their  camp.  But  never  mind! 
I'll  tell  you  what  they  did  have.  They  had  regularly 
every  day  a  copy  of  their  own  Charleston  paper,  which, 
of  course,  was  printed  for  Confederate  eyes  alone.  I  was 
sitting  in  my  tent  one  night  smoking  and  thinking  and 
wondering  how  I  could  lay  hands  on  one  or  two  of  those 
papers.  You  must  know,  my  dear  children,  stratagem  is 
always  allowed,  and  understood  to  be  used  on  both  sides 
in  war.  It  is  as  much  a  part  of  the  whole  unhappy 
business  as  loading  guns  and  firing  them,  and  far  better 
if  it  leads  to  peace  and  an  end  of  cruel  feeling.  Now,  if 
I  could  only  get  a  copy  or  two  of  those  papers,  do  you 
see,  the  key  to  the  enemy's  next  movements  might  be  in 
our  hands,  and  I  suddenly  struck  a  bright  idea.  I  sent  a 
man  to  replace  Billy  Forbes  on  the  bridge,  and  presently 
that  lad  appeared  in  my  doorway.  He  saluted,  and  I 
motioned  him  to  come,  inside.  Then,  after  warning  him 
of  the  need  of  secrecy  and  caution,  I  told  him  my  dilemma. 
Billy  rubbed  his  head,  whistled  softly,  looked  up  and 
down  anxiously,  and  finally,  after  a  moment's  star-gazing, 
"Lieutenant,"  says  he,  in  his  slow  Connecticut  voice, 
"I've  hit  on  a  way — if  you  don't  mind." 

"Go  ahead,  Billy,"  I  rejoined. 

"Well,  sir,  you  see  those  poor  devils  have  scarcely  a 
chew  or  a  smoke  of  'baccy  among  them." 

"  How  do  you  know?" 

"Johnny  on  the  other  side  made  signs,  sir,  and  mate 
and  I  weren't  slow  to  understand." 


"Well.      Goon." 

"Now,  if  I  could  sneak  over  a  bit  from  those  great 
packages  in  the  Quartermaster's  department,  and  make 
him  know  what  we  were  after,  sure  as  guns,  Lieutenant, 
you'd  have  the  papers." 

"  Billy,"  said  I,  "  you  are  a  credit  to  your  regiment,  to 
say  nothing  of  your  Yankee  mother.  Come  here  in  an 
hour,  and  I'll  see  you  have  the  tobacco." 

Some  enterprising  dealer  in  the  North  had  received  a 
contract  for  that  lot  of  stuff,  and  we  had  really,  for  the 
time  being,  an  overabundance,  so  that  it  was  by  no  means 
a  difficult  matter  for  me  to  secure  two  half-pound  packets, 
done  up  in  blue  paper,  and  in  about  as  short  a  time  as  it 
takes  to  tell  the  story,  Billy  Forbes  had  it  tucked  away, 
and  went  whistling  back  to  his  post. 

It  was  a  clear,  soft,  starlight  night.  I  sat  up  attending 
to  various  duties — listening  to  the  fussy  complaints  and 
talk  of  one  of  my  colleagues  in  command,  who  had  it  on 
the  brain,  and  felt  we  were  disgraced  not  knowing  how 
to  get  in  there.  Somehow,  I  relied  on  my  friend  Billy  to 
win  the  day  by  his  fair  "exchange,"  and  he  didn't  fail 
me. 

Towards  morning  I  went  down  to  the  bridge,  having 
sent  a  relief  for  the  lad,  who  came  back  simply  grinning. 

"Easy  as  could  be,"  he  whispered.  "Here  you  are, 
sir." 

And  from  the  depths  of  his  trousers  he  produced  the 
coveted  little  sheets. 

"Billy,"  said  I,  "when  the  war  is  over  you  are  likely  to 
be  a  great  man." 

And  I  turned  in  to  read  the  news. 

About  10  o'clock  I  received  an  awful  message,  in  an- 
swer to  which  I  started  post-haste  for  the  guard-house, 
meeting  my  anxious  comrade  Captain  Hubert  on  the  way. 

"  A  nice  mess  your  protege  is  in,  Lieutenant,"  he  ex- 
claimed. "I've  had  to  put  him  under  arrest,  and  he's 
doomed,  sir,  doomed.  Will  no  doubt  be  shot,  and  a  good 
warning  to  all  like  him." 

As  the  Captain — in  temporary  command — marched  on, 
I  stood  rooted  to  the  ground.  What  had  happened! 
Well,  I  soon  found  out.  Billy,  white  to  the  lips,  but 
with  his  head  well  up,  told  me  the  story.  His  compan- 
ion, cherishing  some  old  grudge,  had  watched  him  making 
the  exchange  —  tobacco  for  the  journals — and  had  made 
haste  to  report  him.  Billy  well  knew  the  penalty.  A 
court  martial  had  to  be  held  at  once. 

Billy,  poor  lad,  for  violating  the  law  which  forbids  ab- 
solutely giving  aid  or  comfort  to  the  enemy,  must  be 
shot!  That  was  the  law,  and  you  must  bear  in  mind 
that  the  wellbeing  of  a  whole  nation,  especially  in  time 
of  war,  depends  upon  the  strict  discipline  of  the  army  be- 
ing maintained.  There  were  important  reasons  why  I 
could  not  at  that  moment  say  I  had,  through  Billy,  pro- 
cured the  papers,  and  relieve  him  of  the  extreme  penally. 
Yet  something  must  be.  done,  and  I  must  try  and  think  it 
out,  even  though  in  discharging  my  duty  I  must  sit  in 
the  council,  which  would  undoubtedly  condemn  him. 

''  Billy,"  said  I.  with  my  hand  on  the  lad's  shoulder,  and 
looking  at  his  white  and  haggard  young  face,  "  I'll  do 
my  best.  Unless  compelled  to,  don't  mention  the  papers. 
That  can't  be  known  just  yet." 

"  God  bless  you,  sir,"  said  Billy,  with  tears  rolling 
down  his  cheeks.  "  You  see,  mother'd  be  proud  if  I  had 
to  die  in  battle;  but  shot  down.  Lieutenant,  for  trea- 
son- 
Well,  I  can  tell  you,  I  couldn't  stand  it  much  longer, 
and  I  went  dismally  enough  to  the  court  martial.  You 
needn't  imagine  it  was  in  any  fine  court-room.  Digni- 
fied and  often  tragic  as  were  the  cases,  the  court  sat  in 
an  old  tool-shed :  planks  on  barrels  formed  the  tables,  and 
for  seats  we  had  empty  provision  boxes  turned  upside 
down.  But  there  was  about  it  the  solemnity  of  such  an 
occasion — of  a  death  charge,  perhaps,  and  all  the  grave 


DECEMBER  4,  Ks94. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


75 


formality  of  the  promptest  law  known.  When  in  the 
paltry  place  the  court  martial  began  I  knew  that  my  col- 
league, Captain  Hubert,  was  in  a  great  state  of  excitement, 
and  determined,  if  possible,  to  ''put  down"  such  reck- 
lessness as  had  been  Billy  Forbes's.  We  had  some  minor 
cases  first  quickly  disposed  of,  and  then  my  poor  fellow 
was  led  up. 

Mean  as  were  the  surroundings,  I  assure  you  it  made 
a  tragic  scene.  And  there  the  Connecticut  lad  stood — 
thinking  of  the  mother  who  could  never  bear  to  hear  of 
shame  upon  her  soldier  boy,  nor  care  to  hear  after  where 
they  had  made  his  grave. 

The  Captain  began  the  formal  questioning;  and  Bill}1, 
in  a  clear,  low  voice,  answered.  Asked  if  he  knew  what 
it  meant  to  converse  with  the  enemy,  he  said, 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Had  he  reversed  his  gun?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Had  he  handed  the  enemy  a  package?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"What  did  it  contain?" 

"Tobacco,  sir." 

Billy  whitened  again,  but  he  did  not  lie;  and  I  seemed 
to  read  in  the  depths  of  his  blue  eyes  a  thought  of  "  mo- 
ther." There  was  a  brief  pause,  and  then  I  knew  my 
moment  had  come.  From  my  coat  pocket  I  produced  a 
packet  of  the  tobacco  sent  by  our  Northern  contractor. 

"Forbes." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Was  the  tobacco  you  gave  the  enemy  like  this?"  I 
spoke,  breaking  a  deathlike  stillness. 

Billy's  lips  quivered.  His  look  was  like  Cassar's  " Et 
tu,  Brute!"  But  he  did  not  flinch.  Honest  eye  and 
proudly  uplifted  head  were  there  when  he  answered, 
"Yes,  sir.'' 

"Captain  Hubert,"  I  observed,  turning  to  my  supe- 
rior, "there  is  a  cart-load  of  the  stuff  still  unused,  for  the 
reason  that  this  tobacco  was  condemned  as  unfit,  owing 
to  some  poisonous  substance  in  the  blue  paper  wrappers. 


I  need  scarcely  point  out  to  you,"  I  continued,  "  that  sen- 
tence of  death  could  only  be  passed  on  Forbes  for  '  car- 
rying aid  or  comfort  to  the  enemy.'  Now,  then,  Cap- 
tain, if  you  will  kindly  fill  your  pipe  from  this  package,  I 
feel  sure  you  will  decide  whether  Forbes  can  be  con- 
demned to  death  for  providing  the  Johnnies  with  com- 
fort from  old  Briggs's  consignment." 

The  tension  was  too  great  for  even  a  smile,  and  Cap- 
tain Hubert's  face  flushed  scarlet.  He  put  out  his  hand, 
then  drew  it  back.  "This  being  the  case,"  said  he,  in  a 
stifled  voice  and  rising  to  his  feet,  "  we — we — can  con- 
sider the  case  dismissed !" 

I  met  Billy  a  moment  or  two  later,  standing  like  a 
statue  near  my  quarters.  He  looked  at  me  piteously  ;  but 
when  I  held  out  my  hand,  did  not  at  once  take  it. 

"  Lieutenant,"  said  he,  with  the  queer  smile  in  his  hon- 
est eyes  I  somehow  felt  he'd  learned  from  his  mother,  "  I 
— I — God  bless  you,  sir;  but  did  you  send  me  with  poison 
to  those  poor  chaps?"  His  voice  shook,  but  he  held  up  his 
head  proudly.  "  Killing  them  in  battle,  sir,  would  be 
fair  and  square — 

"Billy,"  said  I,  "give  me  your  hand,  and  you'll  get 
your  shoulder-straps  before  the  week  is  out!  No,  my 
boy!  I  picked  out  papers  that  hadn't  a  speck  of  white 
stain  on  them.  No,  you're  not  a  murderer,  my  poor 
Billy;  and  go  to  your  tent  and  write  to  your  mother, 
for  we're  near  a  battle  harder  than  what  you  and  I 
fought  this  morning,  thanks  to  the  papers  from  the 
enemy." 

"  Oh,  General !" exclaimed  Molly,  "and  what  happened 
then?" 

"Why,  my  child,  Billy  went  home  on  a  furlough  six 
months  later  Captain  Forbes,  if  you  please,  and  at  pres- 
ent he  owns  a  fine  country  grocery,  from  which  the  ap- 
ples you're  eating  this  minute  here  just  come,  as  they 
do  every  year  regularly,  and  not  once  but  he  encloses  a 
big  packet  of  tobacco  marked,  Not  dangerous,  General, 
even  to  the  enemy!" 


TYPICAL    AMERICAN     SCHOOLS. 

ST.    PAUL'S     SCHOOL. 

BY    JAMES    BARNES. 


IN  writing  a  sketch  of  the  boys'  life  at  St.  Paul's  School 
it  is  hard  at  the  outset  (especially  for  a  Concordian)  to 
avoid  being  personal  and  reminiscent.  The  name  of  the 
founder,  Dr.  George  B.  Shattuck,  can  never  be  forgotten. 
The  school  among  the  New  Hampshire  hills  will  be  a  mon- 
ument to  his  honored  memory  when  the  boys  who  so 
often  listened  for  the  sound  of  the  "quarter-bell"  have 
grown  old  and  gray  and  other  generations  have  suc- 
ceeded them.  The  school  was  his  idea,  and  he  lived  to 
watch  it  change  and  expand,  until  from  two  or  three 
small  houses  and  a  score  or  so  of  scholars  it  has  become 
a  park  of  two  hundred  or  more  acres,  covered  with  beau- 
tiful buildings,  and  thronged  with  a  healthy,  contented 
population  of  over  three  hundred  boys.  There  are  about 
thirty  buildings  in  all,  but  we  give  only  one,  the  "new 
school";  these  top  a  hill,  and  look  away  on  a  stretch  of 
country  unequalled  in  its  New  England  beauty. 

The  school  was  incorporated  in  1855,  and  one  year  later 
the  present  rector,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Coit,  took  charge  of  its 
future.  In  looking  at  the  history  of  any  great  success 
we  find  usually  the  influence  of  one  mind,  one  per- 
sonality. So  it  has  been  with  St.  Paul's.  It  is  this  in- 
fluence that  has  brought  it  to  what  it  is  at  the  present, 
and  it  is  of  the  present  that  I  am  going  to  write  (perhaps 
a  little  of  the  past  may  creep  in  here  and  there). 


St.  Paul's  is  about  two  miles  and  a  half  from  Con- 
cord "on  the  Merrimac."  It  is  situated  at  the  bottom 
of  a  bowl  made  by  the  surrounding  hills,  and  clusters 
about  a  little  lake  that  shoots  out  miniature  bays  and 
armlets  into  the  woods  and  meadows.  A  famous  place 
it  is  for  red-winged  blackbirds  and  bull-frogs  and  spiny- 
backed  sun-fish.  On  some  of  the  higher  land,  quite  a 
distance  from  the  older  buildings,  are  the  great  dormi- 
tories that  at  night  twinkle  with  myriads  of  lights  until 
the  quarter-hell  tolls  nine,  half  past,  and  then  out  the 
lights  go  all  at  once. 

Supposing  it  is  a  winter's  day  (we  will  take  up  a  spring 
day  in  its  turn) — one  of  those  crisp  New  Hampshire  clays 
when  the  sky  is  clear  and  blue,  and  the  thermometer 
seems  to  have  made  a  mistake  and  allowed  the  mercury 
to  drop  further  down  than  was  absolutely  truthful.  In  the 
numerous  dormitories — the  "upper  school,"  the  "lower 
school,"  the  "new  school,"  and  the  various  masters' 
houses  in  which  some  of  the  older  students  live— at  sev- 
en-thirty to  a  minute  there  is  a  great  stirring  out  in  the 
morning.  The  bell  in  the  old  "study"  is  clanging  mu- 
sically— and  it  is  a  very  musical  old  hell.  Somebody, 
however,  soon  drowns  this  out  by  walking  up  and  down 
before  the  "alcoves"  (each  boy  has  a  compartment  to 
himself  a  little  larger  than  a  steamer  stateroom)  in  the 


HAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


dormitories,  and  as  lie  walks  he  raises  a  din  on  a  great 
clattering  gong.  He  stops  for  a  little  while  before  some 
of  the  curtains  and  gives  a  few  extra  twirls;  he  knows 
the  sleepy-heads.  In  half  an  hour  breakfast.  This  over, 
long  lines  of  boys  wend  their  way  towards  the  chapel, 


THE    "NEW    SCHOOL"    DORMITORY. 

where  the  morning  prayers  are  held.  On  Sunday  they 
form  together  two  by  two,  and  march  in;  but  on  week- 
days if  a  boy  can  reach  his  seat  before  the  bell  stops  ring- 
ing he  is  on  time.  At  nine  the  study  hour  begins,  and 
lasts  until  it  shows  quarter  of  one  by  the  big  clock  at  the 
end  of  the  great  school-room. 

This  is  the  noon  hour,  and  until  the  bell  calls  "din- 
ner" the  fun  is  furious.  Remember  it  is  a  winter's  day. 
Leaning  against  the  walls  of  the  school  are  innumerable 
sleds,  most  of  them  long,  some  six  feet  and  more  in 
length,  and  every  one  the  same  width,  only  nine  inches. 
They  call  them  "Poland  sleds,"  after  the  man  who  first 
made  them,  I  believe,  and  they  are  the  fastest  coasters  in 
the  world.  Painted  on  their  sides  are  their  names — "  Jol- 
ly Rover,"  "Black  Bess,"  "Artful  Dodger"  (the  "Slow 
Poke"  was  the  fastest  sled  in  school  some  years  ago:  I 
wonder  if  she  still  exists?),  and  so  on — any  name  for  your 
choice.  The  ice  on  the  pond  hums  with  the  sound  of 
skating,  and  soon  the  hill  from  the  old  lower  school  is 
covered  with  boys  toiling  up  and  shooting  down  one  after 
another.  The  heavy  double  runners  roar  over  the  icy 
parts  of  the  hill,  and  some  of  the  coasters  have  a  habit 
of  shouting  "Road!  road!"  no  matter  if  they  have  the 
whole  coast  to  themselves.  It  is  a  very  easy  habit  to  get 
into;  I  think  it  makes  you  seem  to  go 
faster;  I  knew  a  boy  who  used  to  shout 
it  in  his  sleep.  Of  course  they  have  to- 
bogganing, but  I  don't  think  a  St.  Paul's 
boy  will  ever  cease  to  feel  proud  of  his 
graceful  Poland  sled.  After  dinner, 
which  arrives  in  the  nick  of  time,  it  is 
play  hour  again  until  half  past  four,  when 
the  "quarter-bell"  (so  called  because  it 
gives  you  fifteen  minutes'  warning)  starts 
all  the  boys  towards  the  study  -  rooms. 
Oh  !  the  delightful  winter  afternoons,  the 
long  tramps  over  to  "  Turkey  Pond."  and 
down  the  half-frozen  stream;  the  fun  of 
tending  traps,  and  peering  over  the  bank 
to  see  if  you've  caught  a  uiuskrat  or  a 
mink;  the  hockey  and  the  races  on  the 
pond;  and  the  crowd  gathered  about  the 
young  master  who  skates  so  well,  and 
do>'S  figures  out  of  the  geometry  on  the 
ice;  the  long  afternoons  in  tin-  gymna- 
sium when  the  snow  is  falling  outside 
and  loading  down  the  pine -trees,  and 


the  boys  are  tumbling  about  on  the  mattresses,  crowd- 
ing the  ladders  and  the  parallel  bars,  and  rumbling 
the  balls  in  the  bowling-alleys,  and  the  whole  place 
is  so  full  of  merriment  and  chatter  that  you  won- 
der if  these  are  the  same  boys  who  keep  so  quiet  dur- 
ing study  hour.  And  here  an  odd  thing:  a  boy  at  St. 
Paul's  doesn't  have  to  learn  a  lot  of  rules;  he  finds  out 
that  certain  things  are  done  because  they  always  have 
been  done  there,  because  they  are  the  best,  and  that  other 
things  are  left  alone  because  they  are  unnecessary  and 
contrary  to  the  spirit  of  the  place;  he  finds  that  custom 
and  tradition  govern  mostly,  that  rules  as  to  conduct  are 
not  given  him  to  learn,  nor  hung  upon  the  walls  before 
his  eyes.  The  boys  help  to  hand  them  down  from  one  to 
the  other;  this  makes  them  stronger  than  if  they  were 
recited  every  day.  During  the  winter  months  the  rac- 
quet-courts are  filled,  and  the  "squash-ball"  courts,  from 
whence  the  boys  graduate  to  the  racquet-courts,  are  well 
patronized.  At  Christmas  and  Easter  tournaments  are 
held,  and  the  winners'  names  are  inscribed  upon  tablets 
in  the  wall. 

But,  oh,  the  charm  of  a  late  spring  day — the  time  of 
the  year  when  the  young  birds  are  learning  to  fly  and 
the  voices  of  the  frogs  have  changed  from  a  shrill  pipe  to 
a  mellow  contralto!  Then  is  St.  Paul's  seen  at  its  best. 
There  is  no  more  beautiful  sight  in  the  world  than  the 
lower  grounds — the  finest  cricket  turf  in  our  country. 
They  play  cricket  at  St.  Paul's,  and  the  eleven  has  carried 
the  cherry  ribbon  to  the  front  in  many  matches  with  the 
best  teams  in  this  country  and  Canada.  Of  course  they 
play  baseball,  but  cricket  is  the  school  game,  and  will  al- 
ways remain  so.  The  whole  school  is  divided  into  three 
cricket  clubs — the  Isthmian,  Delphian,  and  Old  Hundred. 
Each  club  has  three  elevens  and  two  football  teams,  be- 
sides hockey  sets  and  baseball  nines.  The  school  eleven 
is  composed  of  the  best  players  in  all  the  clubs.  On  any 
fine  spring  day  the  wide  stretch  of  green  is  dotted  with 
moving  white  figures;  outside  the  running-track  are  nu- 
merous tennis-courts,  and  all  in  full  blast.  The  bowlers 
and  batsmen  are  practising  at  one  end  of  the  turf,  and  a 
cricket  match  is  in  progress  on  the  centre  wicket. 

"I  say,  thank  you,  there,  please!"  shouts  a  voice,  as  a 
hard-hit  ball  comes  bounding  over  the  grass.  That  means 
that  the  person  shouted  at  stops  his  own  game,  whatever 
it  may  be,  and  cheerfully  tosses  back  the  ball  to  its  own- 
er. Yon  hear  this  cry  often  from  all  over  the  field,  for 
it  is  big  enough  for  several  games,  and  often  a  score  and 
more  of  balls  may  be  seen  flying  about;  for  two-thirds  of 
the  school  seek  the  lower  grounds  on  a  fine  spring  day. 

Healthy  minds,  healthy  bodies,  and  courteous  behavior 


ON   THE    LOWER    GROUNDS. 


THE    HALCYON    AND    SHATTUCK    CREWS. 


— these  are  some  of  the  results  of  the  school  spirit.  A 
boy  is  not  given  any  one  of  these  or  taught  another; 
these  benefits  seem  to  grow  upon  him  naturally  enough, 
as  might  be  expected  from  his  life.  The  space  here  is 
too  short  to  dwell  long  on  the  subject  of  the  sports,  but 
the  enthusiasm  is  vei'3"  catching,  and  a  sight  of  the  lower 
grounds  on  a  half-holiday  will  never  be  forgotten.  On 
a  field-day  the  cricket-house  is  filled  with  wiry  young 
runners,  who  tiptoe  about  in  their  spiked  shoes  until 
called  to  take  their  place  at  the  starting-point  out  there 
on  the  well-rolled  running-track,  and  many  records  are 
inscribed  on  the  various  cups  and  challenge  trophies  that 
vie  with  the  figures  made  in  the  college  games. 

The  swimming-pool  is  in  the  upper  pond.  The  boys, 
in  charge  of  a  master,  bathe  in  divisions  on  the  warm 
spring  days.  Each  boy  gets  one  swim  a  day.  And  how 
refreshing  a  plunge  off  the  old  spring-board  is!  When 
a  boy  is  having  a  good  time  he  generally  makes  a  noise, 
and  the  shouts  grow  louder  and  louder  as  one  after  an- 
other plashes  into  the  cool  of  the  water.  I  have  often 
noticed  that  the  first  one  in  usually  takes  the  longest  time 
getting  back  into  his  clothes  again. 

The  next  thing  to  be  taken  up  in  the  out-door  life  of 
the  Coucordian  is  the  rowing  on  Lake  Penacook.  This 
is  a  long  narrow  lake,  three  miles  long,  with  an  average 
width  of  half  a  mile,  and  is  situated  two  miles  from  the 
school  proper.  Never  was  there  a  stretch  of  water  more 
suited  for  rowing,  and  St.  Paul's,  you  must  know,  turns 
out  some  famous  oarsmen.  One  year,  if  I  remember 
rightly,  three  men  in  the  Yale  boat  and  four  in  the  Har- 
vard had  rowed  in  the  annual  races  on  Lake  Penacook. 
Again,  the  whole  school  is  divided  into  two  rowing  chilis 
— the  Halcyon  and  the  Shattuck.  Each  club  has  three 
crews,  the  first,  second,  and  third,  respectively  A  place 
in  the  first  is  the  coveted  honor.  Forty  or  fifty  boys 
thus  compose  the  crews  and  compete  in  the  various  races. 
The  old  boys  return  to  school  to  coach  their  successors, 
and  the  athletic  instructor  is  himself  one  of  the  best 
coaches  in  the  country.  This  accounts  for  the  fast  row- 
ing time  and  the  number  of  Concordians  in  the  college 
eights.  Football  in  the  fall,  hare-and -hounds  across  the 
hills,  long  excursions  after  minerals  and  rare  New  Eng- 
land plants  and  flowers  help  to  take  up  the  clays  that  go 
only  too  quickly.  But  space  is  again  too  short. 

You  see  that  I  have  said  very  little  about  the  school 
studies  or  about  the  management.  I  have  left  this  to  the 
last  on  purpose. 

The  school  is  divided  into  forms — six  regular  and  two 


extra  forms.  The  first  is  next  lowest,  and  the  sixth  is 
the  highest.  The  "shell,"  for  very  young  boys,  is  pre- 
paratory, and  the  ''upper  sixth"  is  a  post-graduate 
course.  The  rector,  Dr.  Coit,  and  his  brother,  Dr.  Joseph 
Coit,  have  been  here  nearly  forty  years.  They  have 
built  the  school,  one  might  almost  say ;  and  many  masters 
have  grown  up  with  it.  When  they  left,  they  returned  to 
take  their  places  as  instructors  where  they  were  boys  be- 
fore. They  play  on  the  teams,  belong  to  the  clubs,  cheer 
for  the  winners,  condole  with  the  losers— belong  to  the 
boys.  This  is  one  of  the  secrets  of  the  "spirit "  of  which 
you  hear  a  Concordian  speak.  Of  course  it  is  often  their 
unpleasant  duty  to  set  some  youngster  writing  "  Arma 
virumque  cano,"  and  much  more  of  the  same  great  poet's 


THE  NEW  CHAPEL. 


78 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XTL 


verses,  on  a  bright  sunny  day,  when,  if  he  had  been  more 
circumspect,   the  same   youngster  would  be  out  on   the 
pond  or  down  at  the  grounds  crying,  "Thank  you,  that, 
ball,  please."     But  every  cloud  has  a  silver  lining. 

The  old  St.  Paul's  boy  in  his  journey  through  the  world 
feels  one  thing  to  be  certain.  If  he  meets  another  from  the 
old  place,  they  will  never  lack  material  for  conversation. 
The  mere  phrase  "Do  you  remember?"  will  start  a  train 
of  delightful  reminiscences. 


JIMMIEBOY'S   LETTER  TO   SANTA  CLAUS. 

DEAR  Santa  Claus,  if  yon  could  bring 
A  patent  doll  to  dance  and  slug, 
A  five-pound  box  of  caramels, 
A  set  of  reins  with  silver  bells; 

An  elepbant  that  roars  and  walks, 
A  Brownie  droll  that  laughs  and  talks, 
A  humming-top  that  I  can  spin, 
A  desk  to  keep  my  treasures  in  ; 

A  boat  or  two  that  I  can  sail, 
A  dog  to  bark  and  wag  his  tail, 
A  pair  of  little  bantam  chicks, 
A  chest  of  tools,  a  box  of  tricks ; 

A  scarlet  suit  of  soldier  togs, 

A  spear  and  net  for  catching  frogs, 

A  bicycle  and  silver  watch, 

A  pound  or  two  of  butterscotch ; 

A  small  toy  farm  with  lots  of  trees, 
A  gnu  to  load  with  beans  and  pease, 
An  organ  and  a  music-box, 
A  double  set  of  building-blocks — 

If  you  will  bring  me  these,  I  say, 
Before  the  coining  Christmas  day, 
I  sort  of  think,  perhaps,  that  I'd 
Be  pretty  nearly  satisued. 


AFLOAT  WITH  THE   FLAG.1 


BY    W.  J.  HENDERSON. 


CHAPTER    IX. 
THE    STARS    AND   STRIPES    AT    RIO. 

T1HE  white  ship  far  down  the  bay  seemed  to  have 
stopped  her  engines.  At  any  rate  she  barely  kept 
steerageway,  but  just  to  the  northward  of  Fort  Lage  she 
drifted  idly.  Suddenly  Frank  saw  what  looked  like  a 
small  ball  rising  to  her  fore-truck. 

"  Going  to  salute  the  flag  of  Brazil?"  said  Frank  to  his 
companion. 

"  Si;  but  the  forts  must  answer,  not  we." 

"Of  course  not.  You  won't  catch  the  Captain  of  the 
Charleston  paying  any  deference  to  Admiral  Louis  Phil- 
llpe  Saldanha  da  (Jama." 

The  little  ball  at  the  Charleston's  fore-truck  broke  out 
into  the  green  square  and  yellow  diamond  of  Brazil.  At 
the  same  instant  a  streak  of  blue  shot  out  from  her  star- 
board bow  and  burst  into  a  swirling  cloud  over  the  water, 
while  the  sharp  incisive  report  of  a  Hotchkiss  6-pounder 
set  the  tired  echoes  jumping  about  the  hills  once  more. 
The  port  gun  speedily  followed  the  starboard,  and  the 
two  were  fired  alternately. 

"Twenty-one,"  said  Frank,  "and  fired  as  if  by  clock- 
work. That's  not  an  Admiral's  salute,  Benuos." 

"The  Charleston  does  not  salute  us." 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  Frank;  "there  goes  old  Santa  Cruz 
in  reply.  Oh,  glory  !  what  a  salute !  It  sounds  as  if  the 
fin-t  were  lame." 

"  I  think  she  is,"  said  Bennos,  smiling. 

"The  Brazilian  flag  is  stowed  away  in  the  quarter- 
*  Begun  in  HARPER'S  YOUNQ  PEOPLE  No.  784. 


master's  locker  by  this  time,"  said  Frank.  "  How  the 
ship  is  coming  on  up  the  bay." 

It  was  such  a  calm  clear  morning  that  there  was  no 
difficulty  whatever  in  detecting  the  smother  of  foam  un- 
der her  bows,  which  told  that  her  speed  had  increased. 

"She's  a  sweet  ship,"  said  Frank,  with  pride.  "  I  fell 
in  love  with  her  when  I  saw  her  in  New  York  Harbor. 
She  looks  like  a  fighter." 

"  Si,  si,  ainigo  mio"  said  Bennos,  warmly;  "  that's  a 
good  ship." 

"  But  not  as  good  as  the  Aquidaban,  eh?" 

"  No,  not  that  good." 

"No,  she  hasn't  any  armor,  and  her  guns  are  lighter 
than  ours.  But  I'll  tell  you  one  thing,  Roderigo." 

"What's  that?"  inquired  Bennos,  with  interest. 

"She'd  hit  us  a  heap  oftener  than  we'd  hit  her." 

"You  could  hit  her,"  said  the  Brazilian,  significantly. 

"  Yes,  I  could  hit  her,"  said  Frank. 

"And  you  would,  eh?" 

Frank  turned  a  trifle  pale  under  his  sunburn  as  he  an- 
swered : 

"  What's  the  use  of  talking  about  that,  Roderigo?  You 
know  that  there  isn't  going  to  be  any  fighting  between 
the  American  ship  and  any  of  ours." 

"No,  the  American  will  not  fight.  He  will  let  a  for- 
eigner insult  his  flag.  We  Brazilians  would  rather  die!" 

Frank  made  no  reply  to  this,  for  it  would  have  been 
useless.  It  would  have  been  impossible  to  persuade  Ben- 
iios  that  an  American  commander  might  be  found  who 
would  take  the  responsibility  of  using  powder  and  shot 
without  waiting  for  permission  from  Washington,  or  that 
the  national  government  would  support  any  such  officer 
if  he  were  found.  We  Americans  are  very  boastful,  but 
the  foreign  powers — even  the  small  Central  American 
states — have  not  had  much  respect  for  our  flag  until  lately. 

"I  wonder  where  she's  going  to  anchor?"  said  Frank. 

"Up  the  bay,  near  the  other  foreign  ships.  She  must 
keep  out  of  the  line  of  fire." 

"  Yes,  and  a  good  way  out  of  it,  too.  If  she  isn't  astern 
of  us  when  we  open  up  with  our  batteries,  she's  very 
likely  to  get  thumped." 

"You  do  not  like  the  way  we  shoot?" 

"  We  can't  shoot  at  all  in  this  fleet,  Roderigo.  Why, 
my  class  at  the  Naval  Academy  could  have  given  lessons 
to  your  gunners." 

Bennos  smiled  a  good-natured  smile  and  turned  his 
attention  to  the  Charleston.  She  was  now  above  Cobras 
Island,  and  was  still  steaming  ahead  at  a  six-knot  gait. 
Frank's  heart  beat  with  mingled  emotions  of  pride  and 
grief  as  he  got  his  first  fair  look  at  the  stars  and  stripes 
floating  over  the  taffrail. 

"Alas,  for  my  folly!"  he  muttered.  "I  ought,  to  be 
afloat  with  that  flag,  not  with  this." 

Bennos  overheard  his  words. 

"  I  do  not  blame  you  for  feeling  so,"  he  said,  simply. 

A  few  minutes  later  the  Charleston  ranged  abreast  of 
the  Aquidaban.  Frank  straightened  himself  up  as  he 
stood  in  the  top  and  raised  his  cap. 

"  What  is  that  for?"  asked  his  companion. 

"I  salute  the  flag  of  my  country,  which  I  ought  to  be 
serving,"  replied  Frank. 

"That  is  right,"  said  Bennos. 

"Right!"  exclaimed  Frank.  "Are  you  serving  your 
country's  flag,  or  are  you  a  rebel?" 

"I  fight  for  the  best.  I  want  my  country  to  have  an 
emperor.  A  republic  is  not  good  here." 

"Roderigo,  I  ask  your  pardon.  I  know  you  are  en- 
listed in  what  you  believe  to  be  the  right  cause." 

The  two  young  men  were  agai.i  silent  for  a  few  min- 
utes as  they  watched  the  Charleston.  Then,  for  some 
unaccountable  reason,  Frank  turned  his  gaze  toward  the 
entrance  to  the  harbor. 

"Look!"  he  cried,  pointing. 


DECEMBER  4,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


79 


Bennos  followed  the  injunction,  and  saw  a  noble  bark- 
rigged  white  cruiser  coming'  in  between  the  forts. 

"I  know  her!"  exclaimed  Frank.      "The  Neu-ark /" 

"  Four  thousand  ton  ;  twelve  6-inch  guns,"  said  Bennos. 

"Uncle  Sam  means  business,"  said  Frank,  exultingly. 

"Only  two,"  said  Bennos,  smiling. 

At  that  moment  they  were  hailed  from  the  deck,  and 
at  once  descended  from  the  top.  An  orderly  handed 
Frank  a  letter,  which  he  eagerly  opened.  As  he  glanced 
over  it  his  face  became  clouded. 

"You  have  bad  news?"  asked  Bennos. 

''I  hardly  know,"  answered  Frank.  "My  uncle  and 
cousin  are  coming  to  Rio  in  search  of  Bob.  I  am  afraid 
Uncle  Hiram  will  find  this  a  troublesome  port  for  an 
American  merchant  vessel." 

CHAPTER    X. 
THE    "DETROIT"  COMES  TO  ANCHOR. 

WE  left  the  Detroit  plunging  over  the  swell  left  by 
a  southeasterly  gale.  We  meet  her  again  sailing 
through  an  enchanted  ocean  on  a  fine  tropical  winter 
morning.  She  was  alone  on  the  unruffled  bosom  of  the 
South  Atlantic,  for  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see  there  was 
nothing  else  in  sight  save  sky,  water,  and  a  few  birds 
wheeling  across  the  burnished  waste.  The  cruiser  was 
reeling  off  ten  knots  an  hour  with  the  regularity  of  clock- 
work. Her  clean  white  sides  were  reflected  in  grotesque 
distortion  in  the  ribbonlike  waves  that  streamed  stern- 
ward  fr»m  her  cutting  prow,  where  the  lucent  blue  broke 
into  fountains  of  silver  that  leaped  almost  to  her  hawse- 
holes.  She  rolled  slowly  and  gently,  and  as  she  swayed 
the  sunlight  came  and  went  in  gay  flashes  along  the  slen- 
der chases  of  the  broadside  guns,  which  seemed  to  peer 
out  of  the  ports  like  living  creatures  sniffing  the  strange 
airs.  A  canopy  of  light  brown  smoke  spread  from  the 
tall  yellow  stacks  far  away  astern  and  made  shadows  on 
the  sea,  out  of  which  an  occasional  flying-fish  sprang 
with  a  silver  flash  like  a  shooting  star.  The  sun  beat 
down  upon  the  decks  with  a  heat  that  would  have  been 
distressing  had  it  not  been  for  the  breeze  the  vessel's 
progress  created. 

Mr.  Burrell  was  pacing  up  and  down  the  bridge  with 
his  hands  behind  his  back,  his  dark  blue  uniform  making 
his  form  stand  out  in  sharp  silhouette  against  the  bright 
sky.  The  man  at  the  wheel  stood  stolidly  gazing  into  the 
compass-bowl  and  occasionally  giving  the  spokes  an  ap- 
parently careless  twist,  but  the  broad  straight  path  of  foam 
astern  told  that  he  was  holding  the  ship  to  her  course. 
A  dozen  or  more  white-garbed  figures  sprawled  in  the  sun 
on  the  forecastle  deck,  while  under  the  awning  on  i.he 
quarter-deck  several  officers  sat  en  joying  the  breeze.  The 
marine  on  duty  as  orderly  before  the  cabin-door  looked 
uncomfortable  in  spite  of  the  summery  appearance  of  his 
white  helmet  and  duck  trousers.  The  rescued  sailor  had 
been  transferred  to  a  steamer  bound  for  New  York. 
George  Briscomb  was  walking  up  and  down  the  starboard 
waist;  and  Harold  King-  was  leaning  against  the  fore- 
stay,  looking  straight  ahead,  and  letting  his  eyes  feast  on 
the  splendid  blue  of  the  tropical  sea.  The  whole  ship's 
company  had  an  air  of  indolence,  as  if  smitten  by  the 
languor  of  the  southern  clime,  and  a  touch  of  fitting 
sentiment  was  added  by  the  mellow  tones  of  a  negro  sail- 
or's voice  singing  "'Way  Rio."  But  just  as  the  kiss  of 
the  Prince  in  The  Sleeping  Beauty  threw  the  whole 
slumbering  castle  into  a  clatter  of  wakeful  action,  so  a 
sudden  clear  and  musical  cry  from  aloft  swept  away  the 
languor,  and  strained  to  alert  tension  every  figure  aboard 
the  ship. 

"Land,  ho!" 

"  Where  away?"  cried  Mr.  Burrell. 

"  A  point  off  the  starboard  bow,  sir,"  came  the  answer. 

Harold  straightened  up  and  sent  a  keen  gaze  forward. 


The  sprawling  figures  on  the  forecastle  deck  sprang  to 
their  feet  and  looked  ahead.  The  man  at  the  wheel  for- 
got the  compass-bowl.  The  officers  on  the  poop-deck  ran 
to  the  rails  on  either  side.  George  sprang  to  the  plat- 
form of  one  of  the  Hotchkiss,  6-pounders.  Every  eye  on 
the  ship  was  gazing  eagerly  ahead.  The  door  of  the 
navigator's  room  swung  open,  and  Mr.  Flower  hastened 
to  the  bridge. 

"  That  should  be  the  mountain-tops  on  Flora.  Point  in 
range  with  Pai  Island,"  said  he.  "The  Captain  laid  the 
course  to  pass  outside  of  the  island,  and  I  got  a  Simmer 
line  earlv  this  morning  bearing  for  the  westerly  end 
of  it." 

Commander  Brown  son  now  came  forward  and  mount- 
ed the  bridge.  "  How  far  away  are  the  mountains?"  he 
asked. 

"About  forty-three  miles,  according  to  the  time  they 
were  sighted  from  the  masthead,  sir,"  answered  Mr. 
Flower. 

"  And  how  does  that  agree  with  our  reckoning?" 

"  Pretty  well,  sir,"  answered  the  navigator.  "  We  are 
about  five  miles  nearer  to  the  coast  than  we  thought." 

"Hum;  but  as  I  laid  the  course  so  well  out  we  have 
run  into  no  danger.  We  shall  be  up  with  Pai  Island  in 
four  hours  or  a  little  more.  How  far  is  it  thence  to  the 
entrance  of  the  harbor?" 

"Four  miles  nor' west  by  nor',"  answered  Mr.  Flower, 
"  with  nothing  less  than  seven  fathoms." 

"  Mr.  Crane  will  take  the  bridge  when  we  are  abreast 
of  the  island,"  said  the  Commander,  turning  to  descend 
from  the  bridge. 

"Very  good,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Flower.      "  Mr.  King." 

"  A}-,  ay,  sir,"  answered  Harold,  starting  suddenly  from 
his  position  near  the  foot  of  the  forestay. 

"Go  to  the  masthead  and  tell  me  what  you  see." 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir,"  replied  the  boy,  with  one  foot  already 
on  the  sheer-pole.  His  lithe  form  sprang  up  the  rattlins, 
and  in  a  few  seconds  he  was  in  the  top. 

"Hills,  sir,"  he  called,  "and  plenty  of  them  on  both 
bows,  with  a  narrow  opening  dead  ahead  of  us.  It  looks 
as  if  it  might  be  a  river's  mouth,  sir." 

"  Where  do  you  find  the  highest  point?" 

"  Just  clear  of  the  starboard  bow,  sir." 

"Let  me  know  when  it  is  dead  ahead. — Port  a  little." 
The  last  injunction  was  to  the  man  at  the  helm. 

"  Meet  her,  sir,  meet  her,"  cried  Harold.  "  Now,  steady 
as  you  are,  sir." 

"Very  good.     Lay  down  from  aloft." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir,"  was  the  boy's  reply,  as  he  dropped  down 
the  rattlins  like  a  young  cat. 

"The  high  peak  will  be  in  direct  range  with  the  wes- 
terly end  of  Pai  Island,"  said  Mr.  Flower  to  Mr.  Burrell. 
"Keep  the  ship  heading  for  it  till  you  raise  the  island, 
and  then  call  me." 

Mr.  Flower  went  below,  and  a  few  minutes  later,  when 
four  bells  struck  and  George  went  to  the  chart-house  to 
make  his  entries  in  the  log,  the  blue  mountain  peak  was 
visible  from  the  bridge. 

"The  rift  in  the  hills  that  Harold  reported  will  be  the 
entrance  to  Rio  Harbor,  won't  it?"  asked  George,  after 
making  his  report  to  Mr.  Burrell. 

"Yes;  and  we  shall  be  at  anchor  with  the  Charleston 
and  Newark  this  afternoon." 

George  went  aft  thinking  a  little  more  seriously  than 
was  his  custom.  "  Frank  is  in  there,  I  suppose,"  he  re- 
flected, "  aboai'd  the  Aquidaban.  I  wonder  how  he  likes 
foreign  service?" 

At  a  quarter  of  two  o'clock  Pai  Island,  with  its  bosky 
hills  rising  325  feet  above  the  sea,  was  on  the  Detroit's 
starboard  beam.  Mr.  Crane  and  Mr.  Flower  appeared  on 
the  bridge,  and  the  latter  stretched  the  chart  of  Rio  Har- 
bor on  the  chart-board.  Harold  and  George  were  off 
duty,  but  they  remained  on  deck  to  enjoy  the  glorious 


•WHAT    IS   TO    BE    DONE    WITH    ME    NOW 


ASKED    THE    YOUNG    MAN,  IMPATIENTLY. 


beauties  of  the  entrance  to  the  harbor.  As  the  cruiser 
passed  up  the  bay  George  said,  "  I  don't  see  anything  of 
any  war-ships." 

"Neither  do  I." 

The  same  thing  had  just  occurred  to  the  group  of  offi- 
cers on  the  bridge.  They  were  anxiously  scanning  the 
short  stretch  of  water  between  Villegaignou  and  Cobras 
islands,  set  down  on  the  chart  as  the  anchorage  for  men- 
of-war,  but  it  was  clear. 

"They've  gone  further  up  the  bay  to  be  out  of  the 
range  of  firing,"  said  Commander  Brownsou. 

"Here  they  are!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Burrell. 

"And  there's  the  Charleston!"  said  Mr.  Flower. 

"With  signals  flying.  Here,  Mr.  King,"  called  Mr. 
Crane,  turning  and  catching  sight  of  Harold,  "bring  my 
signal  book  as  quickly  as  possible." 

Harold  sprang  to  obey  the  command,  and  was  on  the 
bridge  with  the  blue -covered  book  in  a  few  seconds. 
Mr.  Burrell  took  a  look  at  the  flags  on  the  Charleston 
through  his  glass.  In  the  mean  time  the  quartermaster 
on  watch  had  got  the  answering  pennant  from  the  locker, 
and  had  bent  it  on  the  signal  halyards  ready  to  run  up. 

"Two-thirty-seven,"  said  Mr.  Burrell,  lowering  the 
glass. 

"Anchor  in  column,"  read  Harold  from  the  book. 

"  Run  up  your  pennant,"  said  Mr.  Burrell. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  the  Detroit  lay  at  anchor. 

"Look,  Hal!  Look!"  exclaimed  George.  "Yonder 
lies  the  rebel  fleet." 

"And  there's  the  Aquidaban!  I  wonder  if  we  shall 
see  Frank?" 


"Them  as  doesn't  see  folks  sometimes  hears  'em,"  re- 
marked Cockswain  Morris,  who  was  passing. 

"Talking  of  hearing,"  said  George,  "I  wonder  if 
1  rank  has  heard  anything  of  Robert  ?" 

At  that  very  moment  a  tall  bronzed  young  man,  with 
reddish -brown  hair  and  dark  eyes,  was  pacing  up  and 
down  a  narrow  cell  in  a  prison  in  Rio.  A  rattling  of 
bolts  warned  him  that  he  was  about  to  receive  a  visit 
from  his  captors.  The  door  swung  open,  and  an  officer 
entered,  while  four  soldiers  halted  outside. 

"  Come,"  said  the  officer. 

"  What  is  to  be  done  with  me  now?"  asked  the  young 
man.  impatiently.  "Haven't  I  told  you  over  and  over 
again  that  I'm  no  spy;  that  I  deserted  from  the  Tanian- 
dare  as  soon  as  she  joined  the  rebels,  and  came  ashore 
to  offer  myself  to  the  government  service?" 

"We  have  other  information,"  said  the  officer;  "and 
now  we  aie  told  that  plans  are  being  made  for  your  es- 
cape. You  are  to  be  taken  to  another  place  of  confine- 
ment." 

The  boy  said  no  more,  but  marched  out  between  the 
soldiers.  He  was  blindfolded  and  handcuffed,  placed  in 
a  vehicle,  and  driven  over  several  miles  of  rough  road. 
When  he  wras  left  alone  in  his  new  prison  he  peered  out 
between  the  bars,  and  saw  that  he  was  somewhere  among 
the  hills  back  of  the  city. 

"  I  suppose  I  shall  stay  here  till  the  war  is  over  if  they 
don't  take  a  notion  to  shoot  me,"  he  muttered,  as  he 
buried  his  face  in  his  hands. 

[TO    BF.    CONTINCKD.] 


THE     LITTLE     RED     BOOK. 


I'.V     ELLEN    DOUGLAS    DELANO. 


CHAPTER     I. 


"T'M  older  than  you,  and  so  I  know  better  tlian  3-011 !" 

1.  The  speaker  was  Bertha  Weld,  aged  fourteen.  She 
was  leaning  over  the  gate  in  front  of  her  own  home,  oc- 
casionally opening  it  wide  and  letting  it  swing  to  with  a 
click.  Two  girls  stood  outside  on  the  flagged  sidewalk 
of  Deane  Street. 

"  Pooli !  You  don't  know  as  much  as  you  think  you 
do  about  this,  anyhow,  for  your  sister  is  not  getting  them 
up,  and  mine  is,"  returned  Madge  Barnes.  "And  you're 
not  so  very  much  older  than  we  are,  either."  This  ques- 
tion of  age  was  a  sore  point.  It  was  provoking  that  Ber- 
tha should  always  have  it  ready  and  waiting  to  clinch 
an  argument.  "Come  along,  Nell.  Let's  go  up  to  our 
house  and  have  some  fun.  Good-morning,  Miss  Weld." 

And  Madge  walked  away  across  the  road,  her  short 
yellow  curls  bobbing  on  either  side  of  her  delicately  fea- 
tured face,  her  arm  thrown  about  Eleanor  Rogers  with 
an  air  of  exclusive  devotion. 

Bertha  looked  after  them.  "  Now  she's  mad,"  she 
thought,  as  she  took  one  more  swing  011  the  gate,  then 
closed  it,  and  went  slowly  into  the  house.  "Nasty  old 
theatricals!  Madge  Barnes  is  so  proud  because  her  sister 
thought  of  the  old  things,  and  orders  us  all  round.  Oh, 
dear,  I  wish  I  had  something  nice  to  do!  Those  girls  are 
perfectly  horrid." 

In  the  mean  time  Madge  and  her  friend  had  passed 
through  the  gateway  opposite  Bertha's  home,  and  walked 
up  the  long  avenue  which  led  to  the  Barnes's  house  on 
the  hill.  There  were  a  great  many  hills  in  Durham. 
When  you  were  not  climbing  up  one  you  were  pretty 
sure  to  be  walking  down  another.  It  was  fine  in  winter 
for  coasting,  so  the  young  people  of  the  place  thought, 
but  it  was  harder  work  to  get  about  in  summer. 

At  present  it  was  a  Saturday  in  early  spring,  and  there 
were  ever  so  many  delightful  little  impromptu  brooks 
that  came  tumbling  down  the  hill-sides. 

"  I  wish  I  had  on  rubber  boots;   I'd  wade  in  this  brook," 
said  Madge,  as  she  paused  a  moment  and  looked  longingly 
into  the  clear  water.      "I'll  tell  you  what  we  might  do, 
though.        We       might 
take  off  our  shoes   and 
stockings, and  really  and 
truly  wade." 

"  Why,  Madgie 

Barnes,  what  are  you 
thinking  of?"  cried  Elea- 
nor, quite  shocked  at 
the  suggestion.  "  Wade 
right  here  near  Deane 
Street?" 

"  Oh,  you're  so  terri- 
bly proper!"  returned 
Madge.  "Well,  if  you 
won't  wade  here,  let's  go 
do  it  on  the  billiard  ta- 
ble." 

Both  children  laughed 
at  the  joke,  and  hurried 
into  the  house  and  up 
the  stairs. 

The  Barneses  lived  in 
a  very  large  house,  and 
on  the  upper  floor  was 
an  immense  room  con- 
taining a,  billiard  table, 
a  huge  old  -  fashioned 
sofa, and  a  few  old  pieces 
of  furniture.  In  days 
gone  by,  when  old  Dr. 


Barnes,  Madge's  grandfather,  was  alive,  he  had  been  fond 
of  the  game,  and  had  fitted  up  this  room  for  the  purpose. 
But  it  had  fallen  into  disuse,  and  was  now  used  partly  as 
a  lumber-room,  partly  as  a  play-room  for  Madge.  It  was 
her  chief  delight  to  come  here  witli  Eleanor  and  "dress 
up"  in  the  various  odd  garments  to  be  found  in  the  chest 
of  drawers. 

All  kinds  of  fantastic  games  were  invented  by  these 
two  original  and  congenial  minds,  but  eacli  one  included 
"wading  on  the  billiard  table, "which  meant, that  they 
removed  their  shoes,  a.nd  in  their  "stocking  feet"  tripped 
gayly  about  on  the  broad  smooth  surface. 

"Are  you  going  to  be  mad  at  Bertha  long?"  asked 
Eleanor,  as  she  pinned  a  long  towel  about  her  head,  and 
proceeded  to  twist  it  into  a  tight  coil.  It  was  the  trial  of 
her  life  that  her  hair  was  somewhat  short  and  hopelessly 
straight,  so  she  always  supplied  the  deficiency  with  tow- 
els, except  when  playing  that  she  was  a  boy.  A  fairy 
prince  was  her  favorite  character,  or  Laurie  in  Little  Wo- 
men. They  liked  to  take  one  of  their  best-loved  books 
and  act  out  the  story. 

"  There!"  continued  Eleanor,  with  a  fine  disregard  for 
the  becoming,  "  that  's  a  regular  Psyche  knot.  But  tell 
me,  are  you  going  to  be  mad  long?" 

"I  don't  know,"  returned  Madge,  who  had  "spoken" 
to  be  Laurie  to-day,  and  was  artistically  painting  a  black 
mustache  oil  her  upper  lip  with  a  burnt  cork.  "Let's 
see  how  things  go.  Are  you  going  to  be  Jo  or  Amy?" 

"  Amy."  returned  Eleanor,  promptly.  "Let's  do  the 
scene  in  the  boat  where  Amy  says; 'How  well  we  pull 
together,  Laurie,' and  he  says,  'Let  us  always  pull  to- 
gether, Amy!'  That  is  just  perfect." 

"Ouch!  This  cork  is  hot !"  exclaimed  Madge.  "Now 
I'm  all  done,  so  let's  begin." 

The  fun  lasted  for  an  hour,  and  then  Madge,  looking 
out  of  the  window,  chanced  to  see  Bertha  Weld  coming 
up  the  hill. 

"Goody  Two-shoes!  Here  comes  Bertha!"  she  cried. 
"  We're  mad  at  her,  and  we  don't  want  to  see  her.  What, 
shall  we  do?" 


'  LOOK    AT    THIS  1" 


82 


HAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


"Hide,"  said  Eleanor,  promptly,  "  under  the  sofa." 

And  without  a  moment's  delay  they  were  down  on  their 
hands  and  knees  and  creeping  under  the  old  square  chintz- 
covered  lounge,  leaving  their  shoes  and  the  dresses  they 
had  been  wearing  in  full  view  in  the  room. 

They  heard  the  maid  coining  nearer  arid  nearer.  She 
was  searching  for  them  in  every  room  in  the  house. 
Finally  she  came  up  the  third-story  stairs. 

"  Miss  Madge !"  she  called,  "  Miss  Bertha  Weld  is  clown- 
stairs.  She  wants  to  see  you  awful  bad.  She  said  she 
had  something  great  to  tell  you.  Where  are  them  chil- 
dren?" continued  Bridget,  looking  into  the  billiard-room. 

Not  a  sound  could  be  heard.  The  children  under  the 
sofa  had  their  handkerchiefs  stuffed  into  their  mouths  to 
stitle  their  laughter.  It  was  just  as  much  as  they  could 
do  to  manage  it. 

"It  looks  like  their  shoes  and  their  dresses,"  mur- 
mured Bridget  to  herself.  "Miss  Madge  must  have 
changed  her  things  up  here  and  gone  out,  but  it's  awful 
funny." 

Then  she  went  down  and  told  Bertha  that  they  were 
not  at  home. 

When  she  was  safely  outof  the  way  Madge  and  Eleanor 
crept  from  their  hiding-place  and  rolled  011  the  floor, 
speechless  with  laughter. 

"  It  is  the  best  joke  that  ever  happened,"  cried  Madge, 
as  soon  as  she  could  speak. 

"Let's  have  it  for  a  secret!" 

"Yes.  We  can  call  it  '  U.  S.'— Under  the  Sofa.  It  will 
be  such  fun  to  talk  about  it  before  Bertha." 

For  it  was  the  fashion  in  Durham  for  intimate  friends 
to  have  secrets  together,  which  they  called  by  initials, 
and  aggravatingly  flaunted  in  the  ears  of  the  unin- 
itiated. 

"There  she  goes  down  the  drive  now,"  said  Madge, 
who  had  gone  to  the  window. 

"  Nell,  did  you  hear  Bridget  say  she  had  something  to 
tell  us?  I  wonder  what  it  was  ?'' 

"Nothing much,  probably," said  Eleanor.  "Let  us  go 
on  with  our  play." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  feel  like  it  any  more!  We've  been  play- 
ing it  for  ages.  I'm  tired  of  being  Laurie." 

"Then  you  can  be  Jo  or  Amy.  I  don't  mind  chan- 
ging." 

"No;  I  don't  want  to  play  another  minute.  I  do 
wonder  what  that  was  Bertha  had  to  tell  ?" 

Eleanor  was  accustomed  to  these  sudden  changes  on 
the  part  of  her  friend,  but  they  always  provoked  her. 

"Oil,  you  are  so  curious!"  she  said.  "Who  cares 
what  Bertha  Weld  has  to  tell?  We  are  mad  at  her,  so  it 
doesn't  make  any  difference." 

"  I'm  not  a  bit  curious  1"  cried  Madge,  who  detested  this 
accusation.  "I  think  you  were  very  mean  to  hide  from 
Bertha.  Mamma  and  Ruth  both  say  we  treat  her  badly, 
and  this  time  it  is  all  your  fault." 

"  Mine  !''  exclaimed  Eleanor,  in  astonishment. 

"  Yes.  You  said  to  go  under  the  sofa.  I  never  should 
have  thought  of  it.  I'm  going  to  get  dressed,  and  go 
down  to  see  Bertha  this  very  minute  at  her  house.  I'm 
not  going  to  be  mad  at  her  any  longer." 

"Oh,  dear!"  sighed  Eleanor,  "  I  don't  want  to  go." 

"Very  well,  Miss  Disobliging,  you  needn't;  but  if  you 
don't  I'll  be  mad  at  you,  and  I'll  tell  Bertha  we  were 
under  the  sofa,  and  it  was  your  fault." 

Madge  was  hurriedly  putting  on  her  shoes  as  she  spoke. 

"I  suppose  I'll  have  to  go,"  grumbled  Eleanor,  and 
proceeded  to  do  the  same,  thinking  while  she  did  so  that 
Madge  Barnes  was  the  most  provoking  girl  that  ever  lived. 

The  truth  is  that  Madge  was  somewhat  spoiled.  She 
had  a  sister  who  was  several  years  older  than  herself, 
and  who,  with  her  parents,  made  a  great  pet  of  little 
Madge.  She  was  a  very  fascinating  and  lovable  child, 
but  she  had  two  great  faults.  One  was  an  inordinate 


curiosity,  and  the  other  was  a  sort  of  surface  fickleness. 
In  certain  things  she  was  very  determined: "when  she 
wanted  to  have  her  own  way.  for  instance.  In  her  heart 
she  loved  Eleanor  devotedly,  but  she  knew  her  power 
over  her,  and  used  it  to  the  full.  Nothing  delighted  her 
more  than  to  make  Eleanor  miserable  by  pretending  to 
"be  mad"  at  her,  which  was  the  favorite  Durham  mode 
of  expressing  a  temporary  cessation  of  friendship. 

Eleanor,  on  the  contrary,  was  incapable  of  doing  any- 
thing of  the  kind.  She  was  faithful  through  and  through. 
Her  feelings  were  easily  hurt,  but  she  would  not  show 
it  if  she  could  help  it.  She  always  had  the  uneasy  con- 
sciousness, however,  that  Madge  knew  just  how  much 
she  was  torturing  her. 

They  dressed  almost  in  silence,  Madge  occasionally 
humming  a  bit  of  a  tune,  or  breaking  into  a  short  laugh, 
which  she  immediately  suppressed  as  if  with  a  great  ef- 
fort. She  was  rapidly  getting  into  her  most  tantalizing 
frame  of  mind.  Eleanor  knew  from  experience  that  her 
wisest  course  was  to  say  nothing,  but  it  was  a  difficult 
matter.  She  would  have  much  preferred  to  talk  it  over. 

As  they  approached  Bertha's  home  Madge  suddenly 
changed  her  tactics. 

"I  think  I  won't  be  mad  with  you  any  longer,  Nell. 
It  isn't  worth  while  for  Bertha  to  think  we've  had  a  fight. 
Y'ou're  coming  in,  aren't  you?"  For  Eleanor  had  shown 
some  signs  of  continuing  on  to  her  own  home. 

"Well,"  said  Eleanor,  weakening,  "perhaps  I  had 
better." 

So  they  passed  in  together,  and  Bertha,  seeing  them 
from  the  window,  came  running  out  to  meet  them. 

"Why,  girls,  I've  just  been  up  to  your  house." 

"I  know,"  returned  Madge.  "Bridget  couldn't  find 
us.  But  she  said  you  had  something  to  tell  us,  so  we 
hurried  down  to  see  you." 

Bertha  looked  at  her  doubtfully.  "  Where  were  you?" 
she  asked. 

"Way  upstairs." 

"  Bridget  went  up  stairs." 

"Yes,  but  she  couldn't  find  us.  She  doesn't  know  ev- 
ery place  in  the  house,  does  she?  Anyhow,  we  came 
right  down  to  see  you.  What  was  it  you  wanted  to 
tell  us?" 

"It  is  a  perfectly  splendid  secret,"  said  Bertha,  pleased 
to  find  herself  so  important.  She  had  no  especial  friend, 
and  when  she  was  "dropped"  by  Madge  and  Eleanor,  she 
usually  did  all  she  could  to  make  them  take  her  up 
again.  It  was  not  very  dignified,  but  Bertha  did  not 
mind  that. 

"You'll  just  scream  with  delight,"  she  continued. 

"Well,  hurry  up  and  tell  us,"  said  Madge,  impatient 
to  hear  all  there  was  to  be  learned. 

"  First  promise  that  you'll  never,  never  tell." 

"  I  promise,"  said  Madge,  readily  enough. 

"On  your  word  of  honor?" 

"  On  my  word  of  honor." 

"  And  will  you  do  the  same,  Eleanor?  On  your  word 
of  honor?" 

"Yes,"  said  Eleanor,  "on  my  word  of  honor." 

This  formality  over,  Bertha,  with  an  air  of  deep  mys- 
tery, put  her  hand  into  her  pocket  and  drew  out  a  small 
book  bound  in  red. 

"Look  at  this!" 

"Well,  is  that  all !"  exclaimed  Madge,  in  a  disappointed, 
voice.  "  Bertha  Weld,  I  thought  you  had  something 
splendid  to  tell  us!'' 

"So  I  have.      I  found  this  this  afternoon." 

"But  what  is  it?" 

"A  diary." 

"A  diary?     Whose?" 

"Mrs.  Brewster's;  for  her  name,  M.  B.  Brewster,  is  on 
the  first  page.  And  it  is  full  of  the  most  interesting 
things." 


DECEMBER  4,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


83 


"Why,  Bertha  Weld,  you  surely  haven't  read  it?" 
cried  Eleanor,  with  flaming  cheeks. 

"Of  course  I  haven't  read  the  whole  thing,  but  I've 
road  some,  and  it's  awfully  interesting." 

"Read  my  dear  Mrs.  Brewster's  diary — mamma's  most 
intimate  friend!  I  shall  tell  her  what  a  mean  dishonor- 
able thing  you've  done." 

"Indeed  you  won't  do  any  such  thing!"  exclaimed 
Bertha.  "You've  promised  on  your  word  of  honor  you 
wouldn't  tell  my  secret." 

"  But  I  didn't  know  it  was  this." 

"Of  course  you  didn't,  but  that  makes  no  difference. 
You've  got  to  keep  quiet  about  it.  You've  promised." 

Bertha  felt  quite  safe.  She  knew  that  Eleanor  never 
broke  her  word. 

"Oh,  do  hush,  Nell!  There's  no  harm  in  our  reading 
it,"  interposed  Madge,  whose  curiosity  was  already  on 
edge. 

"Madge!"  cried  Eleanor,  reproachfully.  "Mamma 
says  it  is  the  most  dishonorable  thing  in  the  world  to 
read  anything  that  other  people  have  written  unless  it  is 
intended  for  you  to  see.  And  your  mother  thinks  so  too. 
I  know  she  does." 

"Well,  maybe  Mrs.  Brewster  meant  some  one  to  see 
this,"  laughed  Bertha.  "She  ought  not  to  have 'been  so 
careless  about  dropping  it  unless  she  did." 

"Are  you  sure  it  is  Mrs.  Brewster's  ?" 

"  '  M.  B.  Brewster,'  I  tell  you.  But  of  course  you 
would  not  look  at  the  name  or  anything  else  for  any- 
thing. You  are  so  honorable!" 

"  Indeed  I  won't."  replied  Eleanor.  "  I'm  going  home. 
And,  Madge,  you  had  better  come  too." 

"Well,  I  like  this!"  cried  Bertha,  angrily.  "Madge, 
are  you  going  with  your  nurse  or  your  governess  or  what- 
ever Eleanor  Rogers  is?  She  seems  to  order  you  around 
a  great  deal." 

"Of  course  I'm  not,"  said  Madge,  bobbing  her  curls 
with  decision.  "I'm  going  to  stay  here  audjiear  what 
is  in  the  diary.  I  won't  read  it  myself,  perhaps,  but  I 
am  calling  on  you,  Bertha,  and  if  you  choose  to  read 
some  of  it  out  loud  I  can't  help  it,  can  I?" 

"Madge!"  exclaimed  Eleanor,  almost  too  angry  and 
horrified  to  speak.  Then  without  another  word  she  left 
them  and  went  out  of  the  house. 

She  went  home,  and,  finding  a  book,  tried  to  read.  It 
was  dull  work,  and  almost  impossible.  To  think  of  Mrs. 
Brewster's  diary  being  read  by  those  two  girls  was  al- 
most more  than  she  could  bear.  Her  mother  was  not  at 
home.  Eleanor  had  no  brothers  and  sisters,  and  her 
father  was  dead. 

Mrs.  Rogers  was  not  at  all  well  off,  and  being  a  very 
cultivated  woman,  she  added  to  her  small  income  by 
teaching  classes  in  literature  and  by  reading  with  one  or 
two  people.  Consequently  she  was  out  a  great  deal,  and 
Eleanor  would  have  led  a  lonely  life  had  it  not  been  for 
her  intimacy  with  Madge  Barnes.  Mrs.  Barnes  was  very 
fond  of  her,  and  encouraged  her  to  be  with  Madge  as 
much  as  possible;  for  in  addition  to  the  fact  that  Mrs. 
Rogers  was  an  old  acquaintance,  she  felt  that  Eleanor 
had  a  noble  character,  and  that  it  was  well  for  Madge  to 
have  such  a  friend. 

Bertha  and  Madge,  left  to  themselves,  looked  at  each 
other.  Madge's  conscience  pricked  a  wee  bit,  but  she 
turned  a  deaf  ear  to  its  reminders. 

"Do  you  want  to  hear  it?"  asked  Bertha,  holding-  up 
the  little  red  book. 

"Of  course  I  do.      Hurry  up!" 

Bertha  opened  it.  She  read  various  little  entries  that 
were  of  no  particular  importance  or  interest — notes  of 
the  weather,  calls  that  the  writer  had  made,  books  that 
she  had  read. 

"I  don't  think  much  of  it,"  said  Madge  at  last.  "  Let 
me  see  it." 


She  took  the  little  book,  and  turned  over  the  pages. 
Presently  she  gave  a  cry  of  astonishment. 

"Bertha,  listen  to  this!  Look!  look!  Doesn't  it 
mean  Mrs.  Rogers  and  Eleanor?" 

Together  they  read  the  following  entrv,  under  the  date 
of  July  20th : 

"Passed  the  morning  with  Mrs.  R.  She  told  me  much 
about  her  life.  E.  is  adopted,  but  is  never  to  know  it. 
Came  from  an  orphan  asylum.  Loves  her,  however,  like 
her  own  child." 

"Do  you  suppose  it  means  Mrs.  Rogers  and  Eleanor, 
Bertha?  You  know  Mrs.  Brewster  is  Mrs.  Rogers's  dear- 
est friend,  and  always  has  been." 

"Of  course  it  does,"  said  Bertha,  her  eyes  fastened 
upon  the  page.  "  Who  else  could  it  be?" 

•'  What  a  good  thing  she  went  home  before  we  found 
it  out,"  said  Madge.  "We'll  never  tell  her.  But,  oh, 
Bertha,  what  a  secret  for  us  to  have!" 

[TO    BE    CO.NTINUED.] 

PRIVATE    THEATRICALS,   AND    HOW 
TO    GET   THEM    UP. 

BY      EDWARD      FALES      COWARD. 


II.  — HOW   TO    PREPARE    A    PLAY   AND   GIVE    IT. 

SOME  of  the  readers  of  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  may 
have  taken  advantage  of  the  paper  on  Amateur  Theat- 
ricals recently  printed  to  build  themselves  theatres.  If 
so,  they  now  want  an  attraction  with  which  to  amuse 
themselves  and  entertain  their  friends.  "The  play's  the 
thing, "as  Hamlet  says,  and  now  one  of  the  greatest  tasks 
that  befall  the  professional  as  well  as  the  amateur  man- 
ager presents  itself. 

What  to  act  is  a  question  that  to  be  answered  satis- 
factorily requires  much  thought  and  the  exercise  of  no 
little  judgment.  As  a  bit  of  advice,  the  amateur  man- 
ager is  cautioned  to  be  modest.  It  is  extremely  likely 
that  the  acting  material  he  has  to  draw  upon  is  not  of  the 
stuff  of  which  stars  are  made.  It  is  therefore  better  to 
begin  with  a  play  that  calls  for  the 
display  of  the  simpler  emotions. 
Then,  as  experience  is  gained,  it  is 
possible  to  try  something  more  am- 
bitious. But  in  the  search  for  some- 
thing simple  care  should  be  exercised 
that  trash  is  not  mistaken  for  sim- 
plicity. A  play  with  little  point  and 
dull  dialogue  would  tax  the  most  ex- 
perienced corps  of  actors  to  make  interesting,  and  the 
play  publishers  have  printed  hundreds  and  hundreds  of 
pieces  that  have  now  become  utterly  unsuited  to  modern 
requirements. 

If  these  words  are  read  by  the  younger  subscribers  to 
the  paper,  they  cannot  do  better  than  confine  their  at- 
tention to  the  little  pieces  which  have  appeared  in  these 
pages  from  time  to  time.  They  require  little  scenery,  are 
simple  in  action,  and  the  characters  are  quite  within  the 
artistic  resources  of  the  youngest  aspirant  for  theatrical 
honors.  But  a  play  of  olden  times  that  requires  costumes 
is  always  picturesque,  and  adds  an  element  to  a  perform- 
ance that  often  makes  up  for  some  deficiency.  A  young 
player.  too,.al  ways  feels  that  he  is  doing  more  actimr  when 
he  arrays  himself  in  some  garb  out  of  the  ordinary. 
There  is  great  fun  to  be  had  in  trying  to  effect  inexpen- 
sive substitutes  for  the  robes  of  kings  and  queens,  and  the 
shape  dresses,  as  they  are  called,  of  the  dukes,  courtiers, 
and  titled  personages  of  melodramatic  and  romantic  plays. 
Canton  flannel,  cheese-cloth,  paper  muslin,  silesia — they 
all  come  nowadays  in  such  varied  and  artistic  colors- 
lend  themselves  admirably  to  the  make-up  of  etfWiive 


rUOMITKKS    BOOK. 


84 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  xvi 


costumes.  The  useful  gilt  paper  must  not  be  overlooked 
either  where  regal  glitter  and  pomp  are  needed. 

If  the  amateur  actors,  after  appearing  in  some  of  the 
pieces  already  referred  to,  seek  for  some  higher  outlet  for 
their  histrionic  gifts,  an  excellent  medium  may  be  found  in 
some  of  the  principal  scenes  of  Shakespeare's  plays.  The 
quarrel  in  the  tent  from  Julius  Caesar, the  scene  between 
Arthur  and  Hubert  in  King  John,  the  balcony  scene  from 
Romeo  and  Juliet,  the  wooing  scene  from  Richard  III., 
scenes  from  Othello,  Macbeth,  etc.,  which  have  done 
service  so  many  times  for  school  recitations,  might  also 
be  acted  out.  Perhaps  a  trifle  crudely,  to  be  sure;  but 
there  is  a  keen  satisfaction  about  playing  something  very 
worthy  that  spurs  one  on,  and  often  results  in  achieve- 
ments that  are  really  valuable  from  an  artistic  point  of 
view.  It  is  also  possible  to  play  selections  from  some  of 
the  old  comedies  by  Sheridan  and  Goldsmith,  but  in  such 
cases,  as  well  as  in  the  tragic  selections,  it  is  wiser  to  first 
get  the  advice  of  some  older  person. 

Publishers  of  plays  print  nowadays  very  complete  cata- 
logues, dividing  the  pieces  up  into  classes,  and  detailing 
in  each  case  the  style  of  the  characters,  the  number  of 
men  and  women  required,  the  scene  or  scenes  necessary, 
and  the  time  occupied  in  playing. 

To  start  with,  it  is  not  desirable  to  have  a  play  that 
requires  very  many  characters.  The  larger  your  dra- 
matic company  is  the  harder  it  is  to  get  it  together  for 
frequent  rehearsals.  Plenty  of  time  and  hard  work  must 
be  expended  in  the  work  of  preparation  if  there  are  any 

ACT  I. 


a.  Fireplace, mirroroverit;  ornament  and  clock  on  mantel  piece,  bb.  Doors. 
c.  Sofa.  d.  Small  table,  with  writinir  materials  and  bell  on  same. 
e.  Liaht  parlor  chair.  ./'.  Table,  witli  lighted  lump,  g  Entrance,  with 
porti&res.  h  Arm-chair,  i.  Small  chair,  j  Table,  books  and  lamp 
on  it.  k.  High-backed  chair.  I.  Window,  with  curtains. 

hopes  of  a  smooth  performance.  It  is  therefore  most 
desirable  in  making  up  your  company  to  enlist  only  those 
who  are  heartily  interested  in  theatricals,  and  who  are 
prepared  even  to  make  sacrifices  if  necessary  to  the  com- 
mon cause. 

After  having  organized  your  club,  if  it  is  to  be  an 
organization  with  officers,  the  first  step  is  to  choose  a 
stage-manager.  On  him  will  depend  almost  entirely  the 
result,  good  or  bad,  of  your  labors,  and  therefore  the 
position  should  not  be  filled  without  careful  thought. 
With  an  efficient  stage- manager  an  inferior  band  of 
players  may  be  so  drilled  that  a  smooth  and  effective 
performance  will  be  given,  but  even  a  galaxy  of  stars 
will  not  succeed  unless  directed  by  a  central  power.  A 
stage-manager  is  to  the  theatre  what  a  general  is  to  an 
army. 

Nowadays  in  the  big  cities  when  amateur  theatricals 
are  given  a  professional  is  engaged  for  this  office,  and 
the  value  of  his  services  is  seen  in  performances  that 
often  compare  favorably  with  those  given  in  a  regular 
theatre.  As  the  readers  of  this  paper  are  probably  be- 
ginners, such  outside  help  is,  of  course,  impossible,  and 
they  must  therefore  depend  upon  themselves  alone.  In 
the  selection  of  this  important  official  one  or  two  hints 
may  be  found  valuable.  Because  a  man  proves  himself 
to  be  the  most  accomplished  actor  in  the  organization,  it 
does  not  follow  that  he  will  prove  the  most  desirable  for 
the  office  of  stage-manager. 

If  he  is  a  brilliant  player,  and  combines  with  it  an  ex- 
cellent and  wide  knowledge  of  the  stage  and  its  manage- 


ment, it  is  not  altogether  ad  ,'isable  to  select  him  to  direct 
the  rehearsals.  As  a  general  rule  never  pick  out  your 
best  actor  for  this  position.  If  he  attempts  to  play  a 
leading  part  and  direct  the  stage  at  the  same  time  he  is 
certain  either  to  do  injustice  to  himself  or  to  those  who 
depend  upon  him.  To  (ill  a  leading  role  or  direct  a 
stage  is  a  sufficient  task  in  itself  for  any  man  not  a 
genius. 

It  has  been  frequently  found  in  professional  circles 
that  the  best  stage -managers  are  not  those  who  have 
achieved  any  great  prominence  as  actors.  The  ability 
to  develop  others  and  bring  out  the  points  of  a  play  is  a 
gift  in  itself.  In  selecting  your  stage-manager,  therefore, 
choose  a  man  who  possesses  patience,  tact,  executive 
ability,  taste,  and  coiiservativeness.  To  successfully  ful- 
iil  his  duties  he  will  need  all  these  qualities. 

Having  picked  your  man  with  due  caution,  it  now 
becomes  necessary  to  place  in  him  absolute  trust  and 
power.  Not  being  an  actor  of  a  prominent 'part,  inter- 
ested in  the  glorification  of  self,  he  will  devote  himself 
entirely  to  the  common  good.  It  will  be  his  purpose  to 
get  the  best  out  of  every  one,  to  adapt  the  resources  of 
each  player  to  a  common  ensemble  that  will  give  bal- 
ance and  finish  to  the  production.  He  will  need  patience, 
because -there  is  a  vast  amount  of  detail  connected  with 
every  performance  that  will  try  the  good-nature  of  all 
concerned.  He  will  need  tact,  because  it  is  always  diffi- 
cult in  amateur  affairs  to  make  the  exponents  of  minor 
roles  realize  that  on  their  efforts,  quite  as  much  as  on 
those  playing  leading  roles,  depends  a  smooth  and  effec- 
tive result.  He  must  be  able  to  beget  confidence — a  con- 
fidence which  will  persuade  each  player  that  he  is  look- 
ing after  and  guarding  his  individual  interests.  He  will 
need  executive  ability,  because  of  the  hundred  and  one 
details  of  a  production  that  will  demand  his  personal 
knowledge  and  attention.  He  will  need  taste,  that  the 
feelings  of  the  audience  and  the  intent  of  the  author  may 
always  bepbserved;  and  lie  will  need  to  be  conservative, 
because  in  matters  of  art— and  such  an  element  always 
enters  into  even  the  humblest  dramatic  effort — it  is  never 
desirable  to  strive  for  bizarre  effects. 

Placing  therefore  in  his  hands  absolute  power,  his  du- 
ties may  be  thus  defined:  The  play  having  been  selected, 
he  must  first  make  his  prompt-book.  This  is  necessary 
even  when  printed  stage  directions  are  given,  because  it 
is  not  always  possible  to  follow  them.  Your  scenery,  in 
the  matter  and  arrangements  of  doors  and  windows,  may 
not  be  in  keeping  with  those  called  for  in  the  printed 
book,  in  which  case  it  will  be  necessary  for  him  to  work 
out  his  own  "stage  plot,"  as  it  is  called.  If.  therefore,  it 
is  a  printed  book,  he  should  carefully  take  it  apart,  and 
between  every  two  pages  insert  a  leaf  of  blank  paper. 
If  the  play  is  one  of  those  printed  in  HARPER'S  Youxc 
PEOPLE,  he  should  take  a  copy-book,  or  some  blank-book 
of  convenient  size,  and  cutting  the  play  from  the  paper 
in  sections  of  an  equal  length,  should  paste  them  in  regu- 
lar order  on  every  other  page  of  the  book,  so  that  every 
section  of  printed  matter  will  have  a  blank  page  to  the 
left  of  it. 

Before  writing  down  on  the  white  pages  the  stage  di- 
rections referring  to  the  printed  text  opposite,  the  stage- 
manager  should  first  work  out  his  crosses,  movements, 
bits  of  business,  and  exits  on  other  slips  of  paper,  trans- 
ferring them  only  to  his  prompt  book  when  he  finds  that 
they  are  practicable  and  what  the  story  of  the  play  de- 
mands. 

The  work  of  plotting  a  play  requires  great  patience 
and  not  a  little  work.  The  stage-manager  should  first 
read  the  play  over  several  times,  familiarizing  himself 
thoroughly  with  its  spirit,  purport,  and  object.  Then  he 
should  endeavor  to  work  out  a  plan  of  action  that  will 
bring  out  all  these  particulars.  He  should  study  each 
character  carefully,  so  that  he  can  determine  its  exact 


f&yp 


TALKING    OVEK    THE    PLAY    WITH    THE    STAGE-MANAGER. 


proportionate  value  to  the  story,  lie  should  think  out 
characteristic  bits  of  business  that  will  heighten  the  effect 
of  each  part,  and  lie  must  devise  stage  groupings  of  the 
characters  that  will  make  pictures;  for  a  play  is  really  a 
story  illustrated  by  living  pictures.  The  groupings  must 
be  so  arranged  that  the  component  parts  balance  each 
other.  Care  must  be  taken  that  no  actor  stands  in  a  line 
and  so  hides  another;  neither  should  there  be  a  majority  of 
players  on  any  one  side  of  the  stage.  They  should  be  so 
grouped  that  an  artistic  equilibrium  is  always  established. 
Then  each  page  of  text  must  be  considered  so  that  the 
entrances  and  exits  are  all  consistently  arranged.  Thus, 
if  a  character  goes  off  through  a  door  on  the  left-hand 
side  of  the  stage,  say  to  enter  that  part  of  the  house  set 
apart  for  the  family,  it  must  be  seen  that  on  his  reappear- 
ance he  does  not  come  in  through  a  door  which  is  sup- 
posed to  communicate  with  the  street.  All  these  little 
points  have  to  be  most  carefully  considered.  Then  when 
an  act  or  scene  has  been  thought  out  in  this  way,  the  ex- 
act method  of  procedure  should  be  set  down  on  the  blank 
page  opposite  the  printed  page,  so  that  when  the  stage- 
manager  comes  to  drill  his  forces,  he  may  know  just 
where  each  character  should  be  at  almost  every  line  of 
the  play's  text. 

In  arranging  these  formulae,  some  stage-managers  take 
a  board  or  table,  lining  it  out  with  chalk  or  books  just  as 
the  ground-plan  of  the  stage  is.  Then  with  chessmen  or 
spools,  representing  the  different  characters,  they  move 
them  about  until  they  get  a  scheme  that  is  perfectly  bal- 
anced. Of  course  when  the  players  begin  to  actively  re- 
hearse, expediency  may  suggest  some  changes  in  the 
original  plan;  but  a  well  worked  out  stage  plot  will  sel- 
dom thereafter  require  change,  except  in  the  elaboration 
of  minor  particulars. 

The  stage-manager  having  worked  out  his  stage  plot, 
he  should  call  the  company  together  and  submit  to  them 


a  schedule  of  rehearsals.  With  amateurs,  of  course,  it  is 
impossible  to  expect  them  to  suit  their  plans  exactly  as 
the  schedule  calls  for.  Allowing,  however,  for  sickness 
and  imperative  engagements,  a  series  of  dates  for  rehears- 
ing should  be  arranged,  at  each  one  of  which  every  player 
taking  part  should  be  expected  to  be  punctually  present. 
If  the  play  is  more  than  one  act,  it  is  wiser  to  arrange  the 
rehearsals  so  that  the  first  act  shall  be  rehearsed  on  cer- 
tain nights,  the  second  on  other  nights,  and  so  on.  In 
this  way  it  will  not  be  necessary  to  have  those  only  ap- 
pearing in  subsequent  acts  hanging  about  while  one  of 
the  earlier  ones  is  being  whipped  into  shape.  The  sched- 
ule of  rehearsals  once  established,  it  should  be  impressed 
upon  every  one  the  necessity  of  being  present  whenever 
he  is  needed.  Satisfactory  results  can  never  be  obtained 
when  a  substitute  takes  a  principal's  part  at  rehearsal. 

If  the  play  is  a  costume  play,  it  is  very  desirable  that 
there  should  be  a  dress  rehearsal  the  night  before  the 
actual  performance.  It  is  a  very  different  thing  to 
handle  actual  properties  from  imaginary  ones,  and  there 
should  be  always  at  least  one  rehearsal  where  everybody 
is  present,  and  where  everything  is  arranged  for  in  the 
matter  of  doors,  tables,  and  personal  accessories,  just  as 
it  is  at  a  regular  performance. 

The  stage-manager's  assistant  is  a  property-man.  The 
only  qualifications  a  person  needs  to  fill  this  office  are  a 
clear  head  and  a  general  disposition  to  work.  He  needs 
no  particular  knowledge  of  the  stage  or  the  art  of  acting. 
His  work  is  mapped  out  for  him.  and  all  he  has  to  d<> 
is  to  see  that  he  religiously  follows  what  is  outlined  for 
him.  The  stage-manager  having  studied  out  and  made 
his  stage  plot,  he  must  next  make  his  scene,  property,  and 
gas  plots  for  the  guidance  of  his  assistant  or  assistants. 

A  scene  plot  is  a  paper  which  the  stage-manager  pre- 
pares for  the  use  of  those  entrusted  with  MM  ting  tin- 
scenery  and  furnishing  the  stage.  It  describes  in  detail 


86 


HARPER'S   YOUNG   PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


just  how  the  scenery  is  to  be  arranged,  where  the 
doors,  windows,  and  fireplaces  are  to  be  located,  and 
where  the  furniture  and  necessary  ornaments,  etc.,  are 
to  be  placed.  It  may  also  contain  particulars  as  to  how 
the  scene  shall  be  dressed  and  arranged  in  minor  but 
really  important  details.  This  includes  purely  orna- 
mental features. 

Taking,  for  example,  an  interior  scene  for  some  play, 
the  stage-manager  would  make  out  his  scene  plot  in  some 
such  fashion  as  shown  in  the  cut  on  page  84. 

If  the  play  to  be  acted  needs  more  than  one  scene,  a 
separate  scene  plot  must  be  made  for  each  act.  These 
plots  once  turned  over  to  the  property-man,  it  devolves 
upon  him  to  see  that  each  item  called  for  is  supplied  and 
put  in  place  on  the  night  of  the  dress  rehearsal  and  the 
actual  performance.  If  the  house  in  which  the  enter- 
tainment is  given  cannot  supply  all  these  particulars,  he 
must  see  that  they  are  borrowed  or  hired  elsewhere.  But 
in  providing  them  the  property-man  must  be  held  absolute- 
ly responsible.  If  the  production  is  an  elaborate  one  he 
may,  and  probably  will,  need  an  assistant,  who  will,  of 
course,  look  to  his  principal  for  his  orders. 

The  property  plot  is  also  arranged  by  the  stage-man- 
ager from  his  prompt-book.  It  includes  not  only  the 
actual  furnishing  of  the  stage  demanded  by  the  action 
and  business  of  the  play,  but  the  individual  accessories 
needed  by  the  different  players.  Thus  a  property  plot 
would  read  as  follows: 

Clock  on  mantel-piece,  R.  (R.  standing  for  right,  L.  for  left,  C.  for 
centre;  R.  C.,  right  of  centre;  L.  C.,  left  of  centre;  R.  U.  E.,  right 
upper  entrance;  L.  U.  E.,  ieft  upper  entrance;  R.  1  E.,  right  first  en- 
trance; L.  1  E.,  left  first  entrance;  etc.).  Writing  materials  (pen, 
ink,  and  paper)  on  table,  R.  Bell  on  same.  Picture  of  man  in  uni- 
form, time  Napoleon  I.,  on  wall,  R.  1  E.  Cushions  on  sofa,  R.  C. 
Pitcher  of  water  and  three  glasses  on  table,  L.  C.  Lump  (lighted)  on 
table,  R.  of  C.  entrance.  Footstool  by  chair,  L.  of  table,  L.  C.  Legal 
documents  for  Bilkins,  the  lawyer.  Letter  for  Miss  Qiiotem,  Act  I. 
Letter  for  Miss  Quotem,  Act  II.  Bouquet  for  Captain  llliby,  Act  III. 
Etc.,  etc. 

The  personal  properties  the  property  man  must  see  are 
delivered  to  each  actor  before  each  act.  The  players 
themselves  will  have  quite  enough  to  think  about  with- 
out bothering  over  details. 

The  gas  plot  is  also  arranged  by  the  stage-manager, 
again  from  his  prompt-book,  for  the  use  of  the  man  in 
charge  of  the  lights,  who  probably  will  also  have  charge 
of  the  curtain. 

Such  a  plot  would  read  as  follows: 

ACT  I. 

Font-lights  rfatrn  as  curtain  risen;  stage  dark. 

[Cue.]     Ethel.  How  dark  it  is!     I  must  lisrlitthe  lamp. 

[Does  so.     Foot-lights  up  on  the  act. 

ACT  II. 

Forest  scene.     Foot-lights  down  an  nirtniii  i-ism.    <_;  rail  mill i/  raised 
thruinjliout  the  scene. 

If  the  play  is  a  melodrama— that  is,  a  play  of  a  highly 
dramatic  kind,  the  action  of  which  is  heightened  by  the 
accompaniment  of  incidental  music— or  a  piece  in  which 
music  is  introduced,  it  will  be  necessary  for  the  stage- 
manager  to  arrange  a  music  plot  for  the  guidance  of  the 
leader  of  the  orchestra,  or  the  pianist,  as  the  case  may 
be.  Such  a  plot  would  be  fixed  up  as  follows: 


Ethel.  Sir  Gilbert  approaches. 


ACT  I. 


[Creepy  music  /<>  lux  < n't. 


~  * 

Ethel.   Would  you  hear  me  sing  that  old  sons;?     Then  listen. 

[Mimic  for  introduced  sonij,itc. 

In  arranging  these  various  plots,  it  will  be  seen  that 
the  stage  manager  has  a  great  deal  of  work  to  do.  He 
must  study  out  each  page  of  his  play's  text  and  note 


down  the  requirements  of  every  word.  It  is  a  long  and 
arduous  task,  that  will  tax  the  patience  of  any  one. 

The  art  of  making"  up — that  is,  painting  the  face  to 
represent  different  ages  and  races — is  a  profound  study 
in  itself.  It  cannot  be  referred  to  in  any  detail  here. 
The  articles  used  are  powders  of  different  shades,  grease 
paints  of  all  shades,  rouge,  crape  hair  (for  the  making  of 
mustaches  and  beards),  and  spirit  gum,  a  specially  pre- 
pared form  of  mucilage,  which  is  impervious  to  perspira- 
tion. These  articles,  of  course,  must  be  bought,  and  only 
reputable  merchants  should  be  dealt  with.  For  the  pro- 
tection of  the  .skin  it  is,  of  course,  necessary  that  they 
should  be  made  up  of  only  the  best  materials. 

Most  private  theatricals  suffer  from  want  of  punctual- 
ity. If  you  would  interest  your  audiences  it  is  neces- 
sary to  ring  your  curtain  up  at  the  advertised  hour,  and 
have  the  waits  between  your  acts  as  brief  as  possible. 
Impress  on  every  one  this  fact.  Allow  plenty  of  lee- 
way, and  leave  nothing  to  the  last  minute.  Have  every- 
thing arranged  at  least  twenty  minutes  before  the  hour 
of  beginning,  and  then  the  baneful  effects  of  excitement, 
which  are  always  sure  to  produce  nervousness,  will  be 
done  away  with,  and  the  players  will  be  able  to  give  their 
entire  attention  to  the  work  of  supplying  a  smooth  per- 
formance. 


A    NOVEL   BASKET. 

A  CHARMING  little  basket  that  might  well  be  called 
the  traveller's  basket  can  be  made  from  heavy  colored 
linen.  If  any  of  you  girls  are  still  in  doubt  as  to  what 
gift  you  can  offer  to  mamma  or  to  your  sister  when 
Christmas  comes,  this  pretty  trifle  will  help  to  solve  the 
problem.  It  is  so  simple  that  any  of  you  can  make  it, 
and  it  is  botli  convenient  and  attractive  when  finished. 
It  becomes  a  dainty  little  basket  with  pockets  for  buttons, 
thread,  and  all  a  needle-woman's  paraphernalia  when  it 
is  hung  from  a  hook,  and  it  lies  perfectly  flat  when  the 
string  is  let  out.  Hence  it  is  easy  to  pack,  and  takes  up 
no  room  in  the  trunk,  for  which  reason  it  is  a  traveller's 
friend,  and  so  deserves  its  second  name. 

Heavy  linen,  either  blue,  old -pink,  or  sage-green, 
makes  the  best  material  of  all,  and  you  will  require  just 
three-quarters  of  a  yard  of  the  twenty -four  or  twenty- 
seven-inch  width,  and  half  a  yard  of  the  thirty-six-inch 
width  to  cut  all  the  parts.  The  basket  consists  of  three 
hexagons,  as  the  diagram  shows,  and  its  success  depends 
entirely  upon  the  neatness  and  exactness  with  which  you 
do  the  work. 

Cut  the  three  pieces  carefully,  and  let  the  largest  mea- 
sure fifteen  inches  from  A  to  B;  the  second,  thirteen  from 
C  to  D;  and  the  third,  eleven  from  E  to  F.  Then  you 
will  find  that  each  hexagon  is  one  inch  smaller  all  round 
than  the  last. 

When  they  are  all  cut,  scallop  the  edges  of  each  with 
white  silk,  and  work  a  row  of  fine  tree-stitching;  within 
the  edge.  When  that  is  done  the  basket  will  be  ready  to 
put  together. 

To  do  this,  first  lay  the  largest  piece  upon  the  table, 
and  the  second  in  size  upon  it,  so  that  the  points  fall  mid- 
way of  the  straight  edges  of  the  first,  as  the  diagram 
shows.  When  you  have  adjusted  it  exactly  baste  it  into 
place,  then  stitch  it  fast  to  the  larger  piece  along  the  dotted 
lines,  or  from  the  points  1,2,  D,  3,  4,  and  C  to  the  centre. 
Then  on  these  two  lay  the  third  and  smallest  piece  in  the 
same  way,  and  again  stitch  from  each  of  its  points  to  the 
centre;  but  take  care  to  sew  through  only  the  upper  two. 
The  under  piece  must  be  left  free. 

When  all  the  pieces  are  in  place,  and  all  have  been 
stitched,  sew  a  small  brass  ring  to  the  centre  of  each  of 
the  six  sides  of  the  smallest  hexagon,  and  through  them 
run  either  a  silk  cord  or  a  narrow  ribbon.  Whichever  it 


DECEMBER  4,  1894. 


HARPEK'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


87 


may  be  let  it  be  a  little  longer  than  the  combined  distance 
between  the  rings,  and  when  you  draw  it  up  and  hang 
it  upon  a  hook,  you  will  find  a  perfect  basket  like  the  one 
the  drawing  shows. 

The  directions  may  sound  slightly  complicated,  but  if 
once  you  begin  you  will  find  the  work  as  simple  as  can 
be.  The  pockets  formed  by  drawing  up  the  cord  are 


//  ^^,r^w\<    > .> 

••'•     .  ^i:  ^a/  T*f£-' 


'^m&  v/ 

';,.  .•/r^'-^-^v/V 


THK    FINISHED    BASKtT    AM)    DIAGRAM. 

deep  and  quite  sufficiently  ample;  together  they  will  hold 
the  material  for  many  hours'  work.  The  one  drawback 
to  leaving  the  string  free  is  that  tlie  basket  must  always 
hang.  If  you  simply  knot  either  the  ribbon  or  cord  after 
it  is  drawn  up  it  can  be  more  easily  carried  about,  and  the 
basket  can  be  placed  upon  a  table  if  desired.  It  is  de- 
signed to  hang,  and  always  looks  prettiest  in  that  posi- 
tion, but  the  ability  to  change  so  useful  an  object  from 
place  to  place  is  always  a  convenience,  and  for  that 
reason  it  is  wiser  to  knot  the  ribbon  or  cord. 


WHO   KNOWS   THEM? 

fPlHERE  were  once  two  little  sisters  who  lived  in  the  same 
A  house.  One  little  girl  had  pleasant  things  happening  to 
her  every  day,  but  the  other  little  girl  was  always  in  discomfort 
about  something. 

"Dearies,"  said  mamma,  "it  is  too  stormy  to-day  for  you  to 
go  out." 

"Oh,  then  we  can  use  our  new  tea-set!"  cried  the  first  little 
girl.  "  You  promised  we  could  the  first  rainy  day.  How 
nice!" 

"Dear  me!"  exclaimed  the  second  little  girl.  "That's  always 
the  way.  I  particularly  wanted  to  go  out  to-day.  Now  I  cau't. 
How  provoking!" 

It  did  seem  queer,  didn't  it  ? 

By-aud-by,  after  a  fit  of  sulks,  the  second  little  girl  consented 
to  play  tea-party.  They  ran  to  fetch  their  tea-table. 

"But  you  broke  the  tea-table  last,  week,"  mamma  reminded 
them.  "I  sent  it  to  be  mended.  I'll  put  this  board  across  two 
stools  for  you.  That  will  make  a  good  big  table." 

"I  don't  think  that's  nice  at  all,  mamma,"  complained  the 
second  little  girl.  "It  hasn't  any  leaves.  Now,  there!  When- 
ever I  want  to  play  tea-party,  then,  I  can't  find  the  right  things. 
It  seems  as  if  it  happened  on  purpose." 

"  But  see,  it's  a  prettier  shape,"  said  the  first  little  girl.  "  It's 
a  square  one.  Plenty  of  room  for  all  the  new  dishes,  and  rtfom 
for  every  doll.  Isn't  that  lucky?" 

So  they  played  tea-party  a  while,  and  presently  mamma 
called: 

"Come,  childies,  the  rain  has  stopped,  and  we  can  go  for  a 
bit  of  a  walk  before  supper.  Get  your  rubbers  and  thick 
•coats." 

"Oh,  good!"  shouted  the  first  little  girl.  "Then  we  can  have 
fun!  We  can  run  through  all  the  puddles,  and  our  thick  coats 
are  our  old  ones;  so  it  won't  matter  if  they  rfo  get  spat- 
tered." 

"I  think  it  horrid!"  answered  the  second  little  girl.  "The 
thick  coats  are  too  hot,  and  I  just  hate  to  wear  rubbers.  But 
then  I  always  have  to  do  the  things  I  hate,  and  I  s'pose  I  always 
shall." 

It  is  a  very  strange  thing,  but  it  does  seem  so.  I  wonder  if  it 
•will  happen  to  her  the  same  way  all  her  life? 


OUTWITTED    BY  A    BLIND    BEGGAR. 

TJIHK  Japanese  are  very  fond  of  listening  to  stories,  and  par- 
JL  ticnlarly  those  which  illustrate  their  own  national  charac- 
teristics, and  a  good  story  is  enjoyed  uvrr  and  over  again  quite 
as  much  as  when  it  was  new.  The  favorite,  topic  for  these  nar- 
ratives is  to  have  one  person  outwit  another,  and  especially  if 
the  successful  person  is  the  one  who  seems  at  first  to  lie  marked 
out  for  the  victim,  and  who  triumphs  in  spite  of  disadvantages. 

Among  the  curious  creatures  in  Japan  is  the  fugii,  a  \ery 
dainty  fish  when  it  is  in  right  condition  for  eating,  lint  unfor- 
tunately the  only  way  of  finding  this  out  is  like  the  directions 
given  for  telling  mushrooms  from  toadstools — eat  them,  and  if 
there  are  no  unpleasant  sensations  afterward  they  are  mush- 
rooms, but  if  the  person  who  makes  the  experiment  dies,  they 
are  toadstools.  One  of  these  uncertain  fish  was  presented  to  a 
gentleman,  who  invited  a  party  of  friends  to  dinner;  but  al- 
though the  fish  was  a  very  tine  specimen,  no  one  cared  to  run 
the  risk  of  being  poisoned. 

Presently  the  host  announced  that  he  had  been  favored  with 
an  idea,  and  this  was  to  experiment  with  the  fish  on  a  blind 
beggar  who  was  generally  to  be  found  at  the  door,  and  who 
seemed  thankful  for  any  gift.  Should  the  experiment  prove 
fatal  to  the  beggar  it  would  be  a  cause  of  rejoicing  that  he  had 
saved  so  many  valuable  lives,  and  if  lie  escaped  unharmed  from 
the  ordeal,  they  could  still  rejoice  over  the  dainty  dish,  of  which 
they  might  then  partake  without  misgiving. 

The  idea  was  highly  applauded,  and  having  settled  upon  two 
hours  as  a  sufficiently  liberal  time  for  the  beggar  to  die  in,  if 
he  was  to  die  from  eating  that  particular  fugu,  all  letnrned  to 
the  feast  and  partook  of  various  dainties,  while  keeping  an  eye 
from  time  to  time  on  the  beggar  outside.  He  had  received  a 
generous  portion  of  the  delicate  h'sh  with  becoming  gratitude, 
and  as  no  bad  symptoms  appeared  in  the  course  of  the  two 
hours  the  guests  decided  to  begin  upon  the  J'ugu.  It  was  pro- 
nounced delicious,  and  they  ate  very  freely  of  it,  drinking  also 
many  cups  of  sake,,  which  went  to  their  heads. 

Then  some  of  them  proposed  to  go  and  tell  the  beggar  of  the 
risk  he  had  run  for  their  benefit  as  "  a  good  joke" ;  but  that 
rather  remarkable  man  received  the  announcement  very  calmly. 
He  even  smiled  as  he  drew  forth  from  his  robe  the  liberal  por- 
tion of  fugu  with  which  he  had  been  favored,  telling  them  that 
he  recognized  it  at  once  by  the  smell,  and  knew  just  why  it  had 
been  bestowed  on  him.  Then  tranquilly  adding  that  he  should 
now  watch  the  effect  upon  them  before  tasting  the  fish,  he  sat 
down  to  enjoy  their  discomfiture. 

It  is  not  stated  whether  the  revellers  found  to  their  cost  that 
the  fish  was  in  a  poisonous  condition ;  but  it  is  safe  to  assume 
that  in  any  case  they  never  again  partook  of  fugu. 


THE  SNOW-FLAKE. 

IT  was  a  little  snow-flake 
With  tiny  winglets  furled, 
Its  warm  Cloud-Mother  held  it  fast 

Above  the  sleeping  world. 
All  night  the  wild  winds  blustered 

And  blew  o'er  land  and  sea, 
But  the  little  snow-flake  cuddled  close, 
As  safe  as  safe  could  be. 

Then  came  the  cold  gray  morning, 

And  the  great  Cloud-Mother  said, 
"Now  every  little  snow-flake 

Must,  proudly  lift,  its  head, 
And  through  the  air  go  sailing, 

Till  it  finds  a  place   to  alight, 
For  I  must  weave  a  coverlet 

And  clothe  the  world  in  white. 

The  little  snow-flake  fluttered 

And  gave  a  wee,  wee  sigh, 
But  fifty  million  other  flakes 

Came  softly  floating  by. 
And  the  wise  Cloud-Mothers  sent  them 

To  keep  the  world's  bread  warm, 
Through  many  a  wintry  sunset, 

And  many  a  night  of  storm. 

MAUGARET  E.  SASGSTER. 


88 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI 


*WuY  DON'T  YOUR  MUPI>F,U  i>o  VOUE  WOOL  UP  LIKK  MINE,  I>EN  YOU  FKKT.  COOL." 


A  QUARREL  IN  THE  STAMP-ALBUM. 

"  TT"^   (1°  y°"  <lo?"  said  the  Two-cent  Postage-stamp  to  tbe 

I   I      Sixpenny  Stamp  from  England. 

"  I  don't  do.  I  have  done,"  replied  the  English  stamp,  gruffly. 
"Can't  you  see  that  I  am  cancelled?  That  I  bear  the  mark  of 
having  accomplished  my  work?" 

"Excuse  me,"  said  the  American  stamp,  meekly.  "I  meant 
ho\v  are  you,  when  I  said  how  do  you  do." 

"Then  why  couldn't  you  have  said  so?"  retorted  the  English 
stamp.  "  When  you  mean  to  say  a  thing,  why  not  say  it  ?  Can't 
you  speak  English  f" 

"  Only  a  little,"  said  the  Two-cent  Stamp.  "  You  see,  I  never 
went  to  school,  and  then  you  know  this  picture  I  have  engraved 
on  my  heart — it's  George  Washington.  English  things  never 
bothered  him  very  much,  yon  know." 

"Never  heard  of  him  before,"  said  the  Sixpenny  Stamp. 

"  Very  likely  not,"  observed  the  Two-cent  Stamp.  "  You  very 
naturally  wouldn't  hear  his  name  mentioned  often  where  you 


came  from.  I  don't  suppose  in  all  England 
there's  a  statue  of  him,  or  a  public  square  named 
al'trr  him." 

"  No,  I  don't  suppose  so  either,"  said  the  Eng- 
lish stamp.  "We  put  up  statues  only  to  great 
men.  I  don't  believe  your  George  Washington 
was  much  of  a  man." 

"  He  was  more  of  a  man  than  your  Queen  Vic- 
toria will  ever  be,"  retorted  the  Two- cent 
Stamp. 

The  Twenty-five-ccntime  Stamp  from  France 
laughed. 

"Zat  ees  right;  don't  you  let  ze  Englishman 
bulldose  you,"  he  said. 

"Don't  intend  to, "said  the  Two-cent  Stamp. 
"He's  tried  it  on  several  times." 

"Yes,  he  has,"  sneered  the  Sixpenny  Stain]). 
"And  he'll  try  it  on  again  every  time  he  sees  tit 
too." 

"I  don't  know  Fittoo,"  smiled  the  Two-cent 
Stamp.  "  How  often  do  you  see  Fittoo.  and 
what  is  he?  Sounds  like  a  monkey's  name." 

"And  what's  more,''  howled  the  Sixpenny 
Stamp,  "  some  day  I'll  give  you  a  licking." 

"  Hob  !"  laughed  the  American.  "  You  can't 
do  it." 

"  Why  can't  I  ?"  roared  the  English  stamp,  an- 
grily. "Sixpence  is  just  six  times  stronger  than  two  cents — 
so  it's  six  to  one  I  can  lick  yon." 

"Well,  you  can't,  anyhow,"  cried  the  American,  gleefully. 
"  because  I've  already  been  licked,  and  you  can't  lick  a  postage- 
stiimp  twice." 

And  then  all  the  other  stamps  laughed  so  uproariously  that 
Bobbie  had  to  shut  them  np  in  his  album. 


THE  NEEDLE'S   EYE. 
No  matter  how  large  the  needle, 

No  matter  how  hard  he'll  try, 
The  baby  can't  put  his  finger 

Into  the  needle's  eye. 

So  sometimes  I  envy  the  needle, 
And  think  that  his  lot  is  tine, 

For  nothing  delights  my  baby  so  much 
As  putting  his  lingers  in  mine. 


NATURAL    HISTORY    IN    THE   TROPICS. 
NATURALIST.  "IIia.Lo!  THKKE  is  AN   ENTIRKI.T  NICW   BPKOIHB    or 

ANTK.I.OPK,  ANI>  AS  W  K  HAVIt  THEM  CORN  EBK.n,  WE  MUST  OAPTURK  T11EM 
AI.IVK,  !!••  POBSIK1.K.  YOU  KPKI.NG  UPON  TUB  SMAI.LKIt  ONK,  ANP  I  WILL 
BJilZl:  THIS  OTIIKIt." 


CAPTURED   ALIVE. 


HARPERS 


m* 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


Copyright,  1394,  by  HARPKK  A  Bit<yTHHHS.     All  Rights  Reserved. 


PUBLISHED    WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI.— NO.  789. 


NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY,  DECEMBER  11,    1894. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO   DOLLARS    A    YEAH. 


PROFESSOR    JIM'S"     CHRISTHAS     DINNER. 

i;V    JANE    SMI  LEV. 


ALMOST  every  one  whom  business  or  pleasure  called 
past  Parker's  Alley  had  learned  to  know,  at  least  by 
sight,  "  Professor  Jim,  the  Bootblack  Artist." 

So  read  a  canvas  sign  festooned  about  a  platform  chair, 
itself  ornamented  with  brass  nails  and  strips  of  bright 
metal.  To  his  acquaintances  Professor  Jim  was  the 
"  smartest"  bootblack  in  Boston,  which  perhaps  explains 
why  he  was  general  manager  of  that  particular  chair,  out 
of  fifty  others  in  the  city  which  were  owned  by  an  indi- 
vidual who  called  himself  Mr.  Samuels,  and  who  sat  spider- 
like  in  a  dirty  office,  high  up  in  a  dirty  building,  to  which 
these  human  flies  went  daily  to  render  their  accounts. 

Where  the  bov's  father  was  no  one  knew. 


"Oh,  I  guess  he's  alive  and  kicking  somewhere,"  Pro- 
fessor  Jim  would  answer  when  questioned  on  this  some- 
what delicate  subject.  Of  his  mother  he  never  spi>k<'. 
except  when  alone  with  Pete,  his  younger  brother,  a  boy 
of  twelve,  who  limped  through  life  with  a  crutch  because 
of  some  early  accident.  To  the  Professor's  friends  Pete 
was  a  puzzle.  That  he  still  went  to  school  was  remark- 
able enough,  but  the  ease  with  which  he  read  and  wrote 
and  ciphered  was  marvellous. 

"Why  don't  Jim  send  that  kid  to  the  cigar  facto- 
they  sometimes  asked,  taking  good  care  to  be  out  of  ear- 
shot of  the  Professor,  for  of  Jim  the  "crowd,"  one  and 
all,  stood  in  wholesome  awe. 


90 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME    XVI. 


First,  there  were  Billy  the  Kid,  suruained  because  of  his 
extremely  youthful  appearance,  Jack  Turner,  whose  at- 
tention to  matters  of  personal  adornment  won  him  the 
title  of  the  "  Swell,"  Lock-eyed  Ben,  who  saw  more  with 
one  eye  than  most  boys  with  two,  and  a  dozen  kindred 
spirits  who  gloried  in  the  doings  and  sayings  of  their 
leaders. 

During  the  school  vacations  Pete  limped  daily  down 
to  the  "stand."  and  sat  oil  a  little  cricket  watching  the 
passers-by.  Sometimes  he  made  himself  useful  doing 
short  errands  or  polishing  the  brass- work  of  the  chair; 
sometimes  a  friendly  newsboy  lent  him  a  paper  to  read 
in  return  for  favors  rendered  in  the  mathematical  line; 
but  more  often  he  amused  himself  and  the  boys  telling 
wonderful  stories,  for  which  he  was  quite  famous.  It 
was  a  rough-and-tumble  existence,  of  which  the  working 
and  school  hours  were  by  far  the  best  part,  for  most  of 
the  boys  ate  and  slept  at  the  house  of  an  old  woman,  who 
made  them  pay  dearly  for  the  privilege. 

"If  I  had  more  money  we'd  move  quick  enough,"  Jim 
would  sometimes  exclaim  in  wrath,  and  then  Pete  would 
beg  to  go  to  work,  only  to  be  refused,  for  Jim  had  great 
hopes  of  his  scholarship. 

"He's  le'rnt  heaps,"  the  proud  brother  would  inform 
the  boys;  "gramma'  an'  history  an'  'rithmetic,  an'  some 
time  he's  going  to  teach  school  hisself." 

'"Bout  all  he's  good  for,"  muttered  one  of  the  listeners. 

"What's  that?"  demanded  the  Professor,  facing  about 
angrily. 

"Oh,  I  only  meant  'cause  he's  lame,  you  know,  Jim," 
cried  the  boy. 

"Well,  keep  what  you  mean  inside  your  mouth,"  re- 
turned Jim,  and  henceforth  no  boy  was  brave  enough  to 
express  an  opinion  on  the  subject. 

It  was  a  bright  autumn  afternoon,  just  at  that  hour 
when  "work  wasn't  in  it,"  as  the  boys  said,  and  they 
lounged  about  the  alley. 

"  What's  Pete  got  in  his  jacket?"  cried  Jimmy  Peters, 
standing  up  to  watch  the  boy  limp  across  the  crowded 
street. 

"  Guess  he's  swiped  something  from  the  peauut  man," 
observed  Fatty,  complacently. 

"  Shut  up !"  cried  Professor  Jim,  so  savagely,  that  Fatty 
heat  a  hasty  retreat  just  as  Pete  reached  the  curbstone, 
breathless. 

"Look  at  here!"  he  cried,  excitedly,  opening  a  ragged 
jacket  to  display  a  wretchedly  thin  and  dirty  little  dog, 
with  bloodshot  eyes  and  mangy  fur,  who  trembled  and 
whined  piteously  as  he  saw  himself  surrounded. 

"  Where  did  yer  get  him,  Pete?"  cried  Professor  Jim. 

"  There  was  a  tin  tied  to  his  tail — 

"He  ain't  110  great  beauty,"  remarked  the  wrathful 
Fatty. 

"Poor  little  Bummer!"  exclaimed  Jimmy  Peters,  rub- 
bing the  puppy's  head  with  a  grimy  hand.  "I  guess  he 
wants  something  to  eat;  he  ain't  overfat;"  at  which  sug- 
gestion the  crowd  eagerly  offered  the  contents  of  their 
ragged  pockets — some  bits  of  bread,  a  peanut  bar,  a  half- 
eaten  pickle,  and  from  Fatty  the  remains  of  a  meat  sand- 
wich, which  last  was  instantly  swallowed  by  the  puppy. 

"  I  say,  fellers,"  cried  the  elated  Fatty,  "  let's  get  a  col- 
lar for  the  pup,  so  he  won't  get  lost,  an'  we  can  write  on 
it,  '  This  dog  belongs  to  the  fellers  in  Parker's  Alley.'  " 

"  Bully  idea!"  cried  a  chorus;  and  that  night  the  crowd 
went  in  a  body  to  make  the  important  purchase. 

And  so  Bummer  became  a  recognized  member  of  the 
bohemian  band,  and  all  went  well  until  the  fall. 

It  was  a  chilly  night  in  November,  and  the  crowd  had 
sought  refuge  in  the  comparative  warmth  of  Professor 
Jim's  alley,  where  Pete,  throned  on  the  ornamented 
chair,  was  busily  engaged  in  teaching  his  pet  an  amaz- 
ingly bi-and-new  trick.  A  friendly  policeman  passed  on 
his  beat  with  a  warning  to  make  no  noise,  when  sudden- 


ly the  loud  blare  of  a  brass  band  burst  on  the  still  night    • 
air. 

"It's  them  Germans,"  cried  Professor  Jim,  and  with  a 
yell  the  boys  broke  cover,  scenting  amusement.  Off  they 
scampered,  all  save  Billy  the  Kid,  who  lay  outstretched 
upon  the  pavement,  idly  pulling  Bummer's  one  ear. 

"I  say,  old  feller,"  he  remarked  to  the  attentive  dog, 
"  I  know  something  better'n  German  bands.  Ben  Cramp's 
got  a  dog  ain't  half  your  size;"  and  gathering  the  ungain- 
ly creature  in  his  arms,  Billy  ran  swiftly  through  the 
deserted  streets. 

Half  an  hour  later  the  boys  returned. 

"Where's  Billy?"  asked  Fatty. 

"  Where's  Bummer?"  questioned  Pete. 

"  Oh,  I  guess  they've  gone  out  for  a  con-sti-tu-tion-al !" 
remarked  Jimmy  Peters  between  two  bites  of  an  apple. 
But  although  it  grew  cold  and  late,  neither  Billy  nor 
Bummer  returned. 

"It's  time   to  go  home,  fellers,"  announced  Professor 
Jim.      "Come  along,   Pete,   that   dog   will   turn   up   all    , 
right  in  the  morning." 

"  I  wish  I  hadn't  left  him,"  murmured  sorrowful  Pete, 
as  he  crept  slowly  to  bed. 

Early  next  morning  Jim  met  the  Kid.  "What  did 
you  do  with  Bummer  ?"  he  demanded. 

"  I  didn't  do  nothing  with  him,"  returned  the  culprit, 
with  a  surliness  that  should  have  aroused  suspicion. 

"Well,  he's  gone." 

Almost  a  week  elapsed  ere  tidings  came  of  the  wanderer, 
and  then,  alas!  alas!  for  Billy  the  Kid.  Some  gossip  told 
of  an  earless,  tailless  dog  he  had  backed  in  a  fight  against 
Ben  Cramp's  cur.  The  united  wrath  of  the  crowd  de- 
scended on  his  unprotected  head. 

"You're  a  sneak!"  cried  Jimmy  Peters,  as  he  floored 
the  penitent  again. 

From  that  day  two  boys  scoured  the  city  for  the  lost 
Bummer,  and  so  remorseful  was  Billy  that  even  Pete 
relented. 

Searching  one  day  in  a  back  street  which  bounded  an 
aristocratic  portion  of  the  city,  Billy  suddenly  came  upon 
Bummer — but  such  a  wretched-looking  Bummer!  His 
stump  of  a  tail  drooped  disconsolately,  all  the  hair  round 
his  throat  had  been  worn  away  by  the  friction  of  a  rude 
collar,  and  his  original  color  was  lost  under  several  coats 
of  dried  mud;  but  for  all  that  he  was  recognized. 

"Bummer,  dear  Bummer!"  cried  the  delighted  boy, 
clasping  the  pet  in  his  arms  as  he  raced  homeward. 

It  was  on  that  night  of  jubilation  that  the  boys,  loun- 
ging about  in  old-time  friendliness,  fell  to  talking  of  the 
rapidly  approaching  holidays. 

"I've  got  Bummer  back  for  a  Christmas  present," 
sighed  Pete,  contentedly. 

"  Is  there  going  to  be  any  dinner  this  year?"  ques- 
tioned Fatty. 

"Wouldn't  do  us  any  good  if  there  was;  me  and 
Billy  made  a  kind  of  a  racket  last  year  when  Fatty  had 
the  fit " — and  Ben  looked  as  doleful  as  he  felt. 

"Then  none  of  us  fellers  will  go  to  their  old  dinner," 
announced  Professor  Jim,  to  which  the  crowd  gave  noisy 
but  regretful  assent.  The  first  rule  in  their  code  of 
honor  commanded  the  boys  to  "hang'  together." 

"  We've  got  to  do  it,  fellers,"  said  Professor  Jim,  with 
conviction,  glancing  at  the  circle  of  downcast  faces, 
"unless" — and  then  he  said  no  more,  for  a  wonderful 
plan  had  suddenly  popped  into  his  own  active  brain. 
Half  the  night  he  pondered,  and  early  next  day  he  carried 
out  the  preliminaries  by  sauntering  into  the  office  of  the 
great  hotel  whose  annex  had  crowded  itself  onto  the  al- 
ley. 

With  cap  set  rakishly  over  one  ear,  both  hands  in  his 
trousers  pockets,  and  his  lips  puckered  up  for  a  whis- 
tle, Professor  Jim  felt  his  manner  conveyed  an  idea  of 
supreme  indifference  to  observation.  "  I  want  to  see  the 


i 


DECEMBEK  11,  1694. 


HARPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


91 


proprietor,"  be  explained  to  the  dapper  clerk  behind  the 
desk. 

"The  who?"  gasped  the  astonished  individual. 

"The  proprietor,"  repeated  Professor  Jim,  more  loudly, 
supposing  the  111:111  to  be  deaf. 

"I  am  the  proprietor,"  explained  a  quiet-looking  man 
whom  the  boy  had  overlooked. 

"Well,  Fin  Professor  Jim,  who  keeps  the  stand  in  the 
alley,"  returned  Jim;  and  then  getting  at  once  to  the 
heart  of  the  subject,  he  continued:  "I  want  tec  give  a 
spread  to  the  fellers  on  Christinas,  an'  I  thought  you 
might  like  the  job,  being  neighbors,  you  know,  and  friend- 
ly. I've  got  two  dollars  an'  nine  cents.  That'll  give  a 
quarter  fer  each  feller,  and  thirty-four  cents  fee  extras." 

"I  am  afraid — "  began  the  proprietor. 

"'  Oh,  you  needn't  be  afraid,"  interrupted  Professor  Jim, 
reassuringly.  "  We  ain't  used  ter  any  great  style." 

Perhaps  it  was  the  lad's  airy  independence,  perhaps  the 
spirit  of  the  festive  season,  that  won  the  proprietor,  but 
from  that  moment  he  felt  that,  come  what  might,  no  house 
but  his  should  entertain  "the  fellers." 

"Will  you  require  a  private  dining-room?"  inquired 
the  proprietor,  gravely. 

"  Cost  much?"  queried  the  host  expectant. 

"We  will  count  it  part  of  the  extras." 

"Then  we'll  have  it," decided  Jim. 

"  Will  you  dine  at  six?"  continued  the  proprietor. 

"  Go  chase  yourself!"  remarked  Professor  Jim. 

"  I  mentioned  six  as  the  usual  hour  at  which  my  guests 
take  dinner." 

"  Then,"  said  Professor  Jim,  quite  slowly,  "  we'll  come 
at  six,  'cause  we're  going  ter  do  this  spread  on  the  heavy 
swell;  but  it  will  be  a  long  time  to  wait.  An'  now,"  he 
continued,  pulling  out  an  ancient  leather  pouch,  "I'll  pay 
now  an'  call  the  thing  square;"  and  out  on  the  shining 
counter  rolled  the  treasured  quarters.  This  done,  Pro- 
fessor Jim  sauntered  out  with  high-bred  ease,  leaving  the 
proprietor  and  his  assistant  to  enjoy  the  odd  adventure, 
which  they  were  doing  heartily,  when  suddenly  a  ragged 
cap  and  towsled  head  loomed  ag-ain  above  the  counter. 

"Don't  yer  ferget  the  turkey  fixings,"  remarked  Pro- 
fessor Jim,  in  a  stage-whisper — and  was  gone. 

That  night  the  guests  were  invited,  and  great  was  the 
wonderment  thereat. 

"  There's  a  whole  day  to  wait,"  moaned  Fatty,  in  an 
agony  of  anticipation. 

"That  won't  be  as  long  as  not  getting  any. dinner," 
remarked  wise  little  Pete,  proud  of  his  brother's  per- 
formance. 

Next  day  was  a  busy  one  for  the  boys,  but  as  they 
blew  on  their  frost-bitten  fingers  or  kicked  their  frozen 
heels  on  the  nearest  wall,  they  thought  blissfully  of  the 
feast  which  each  hour  brought  nearer. 

"Six  o'clock,  fellers,  at  the  alley;  we  ain't  waiting  for 
nobody,"  Professor  Jim  had  said,  and  the  warning  left  a 
deep  impression  on  their  minds. 

At  four  by  the  clock  two  boys  stood  shivering  in  the 
alley ;  ten  minutes  more  and  another  guest  arrived ;  and 
at  five  the  entice  company,  not  omitting  Bummer,  were 
assembled,  anxiously  watching  the  timepiece  on  a  neigh- 
boring tower. 

"  That  clock  ain't  going,"  remarked  Ben. 

"The  hands  is  friz  fast,"  added  Billy  the  Kid. 

"  No,  they're  not,  'cause  they're  moving  now.  Let's 
play  craps  till  it's  time  to  go,"  suggested  Pete.  But 
even  that  lively  game  failed  to  divert  their  otherwise  oc- 
cupied minds. 

"  Five  minutes  to  six  !"  announced  Professor  Jim,  with 
fine  effect.  "Come  along,  fellers,"  and  he  led  the  way. 

The  great  hotel  was  unusually  deserted,  and  in  the 
hallway  stood  the  proprietor,  awaiting  his  strange  guests. 

"Good-evening,  Professor,"  he  said,  quite  gravely. 
"I  will  take  you  to  your  room,  and  drop  in  through  the 


BUMMER ! 

evening  to  see  you  have  what  you  need.  George,  take 
otf  the  gentlemen's  coats." 

A  grinning  darky  came  quickly  forward,  but  most  of 
the  guests  hastily  took  off  their  own.  Not  so  Professor 
Jim,  who  allowed  himself  to  be  divested  with  all  the 
languor  he  could  well  assume.  And  now  there  came  to 
light  the  extensive  preparations  in  matters  of  toilet  made 
by  the  guests.  Jack  Turner  was  regal  in  a  celluloid  col- 
lar, Jim's  open  coat  displayed  a  flaniiing  red  tie,  icy  curls 
adorned  Billy's  brow,  and  three  of  the  seven  had  rolled 
up  their  trousers  to  display  every  inch  of  polished  boot. 

"Your  seats,  sah  1"  remarked  .George,  with  a  flourish 
of  his  napkin  ;  and  seven  somewhat  awed  youngsters 
slid  into  their  seats,  leaving  Bummer  to  frisk  round  the 
room  on  a  lively  tour  of  inspection.  "  Soup,  sah?" 
qaieried  George. 

"  Of  course,"  replied  Professor  Jim,  loftily,  with  an  ex- 
pressive wink  to  his  guests. 

"Why,  it's  nothing  but  colored  water;  at  Wiggins's 
there's  hunks  of  meat  and  potatoes  floating  round  in 
soup,"  wailed  Billy. 

"Well,  it's  real  good  tasting,  just  the  same,"  remarked 
Jack  Turner. 

"Much  the  same  as  tea,"  added  Ben. 

"  No,  yer  don't!"  suddenly  interrupted  Billy,  seizing 
fast  hold  of  the  plate  George  sought  to  deftly  remove. 

"  Is  that  all  we're  going  to  have?"  cried  Fatty. 

"Course  not!  Let  him  have  it.  We  ain't  at  Wig- 
gins's. and  they're  doing  things  in  style — lots  of  plates 
an'  fixings,"  explained  the  host,  whereat  Fatty  beamed 
blissfully  on  the  astonished  waiter. 

"Good  deal  like  summer,'1  remarked  Billy,  with  quite 
a  society  air,  tinkling  the  ice  in  his  glass. 

"Don't  you  waste  any  room  on  water,"  commanded 
Professor  Jim. 

"Guess  not!  I  didn't  get  any  dinner  on  purpose. 
What's  an  e-n-t-r-e-e?"  questioned  Ben,  spelling  out  the 
menu. 

"Wait  a  minute;  he's  bringing  it,"  whispered  Pete. 

"This  is  a  real  good  entry,  but  it's  small,"  observed 
the  irrepressible  Billy,  in  the  manner  of  an  habitual 
diner-out;  which  was  indeed  true  enough,  for  the  dainty 
morsel  vanished  with  the  rapidity  of  light. 

Then  the  boys  showed  both  their  manners  and  adapta- 
bility by  placing  the  empty  plates  in  a  neat  pile  on  the 
corner  of  the  table,  where  they  met  the  eye  of  the  aston- 
ished George  on  his  return. 

"  I's  waited  on  dinners  and  dinners,"  he  confided  to 
the  proprietor,  who  was  enjoying  the  scene  from  the  hall- 


92 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


way,  "but  'fore  now  I's  never  had  such  a  party  of  gents 
as  dis";  and  back  he  went,  his  dark  face  fairly  shining 
with  merriment. 

Throughout  the  feast  the  quick -eyed  Professor  Jini 
noticed  that  at  times  his  guests  were  more  excited  than 
even  this  festive  occasion  warranted.  Whispers,  smiles, 
and  nods  in  which  he  had  no  share  travelled  round  the 
table,  and  twice  his  leg  received  a  kick  which  was  evi- 
dently intended  for  Jimmy  Peters.  At  last  the  mystery 
grew  oppressive,  and  he  broke  out  with,  "I  say,  fellers, 
what's  the  matter  with  you?"  whereat  the  "fellers" 
looked  at  each  other  crestfallen. 

"The  cat's  broke  loose,"  remarked  Jack  Turner. 

"  Let's  tell,"  added  Billy  the  Kid. 

"That's  not  fair,"  cried  Ben,  excitedly.  "It's  your 
fault,  Jimmy,  so  you'd  better  do  it  now." 

"  Do  what?"  demanded  the  Professor. 

And  for  answer  Jimmy  Peters  unwound  his  legs  from 
the  rungs  of  his  chair,  and  rose  slowly  to  his  feet.  Then, 
with  both  hands  deep  in  his  pockets,  shoulders  well 
back,  and  expanded  chest,  in  careful  imitation  of  a  cam- 
paign orator  he  had  once  seen,  Jimmy  Peters  began 
thus: 

"  Ladies  and  gents,  I  am  honored —  But  the  boys 
broke  into  a  roar.  "  I  say,  fellers,"  he  exclaimed,  wrath- 
full  y,  "  we  was  going  ter  do  this  on  the  regular  swell — 

"Go  on,  Jimmy!  Go  on!"  admonished  the  laughing 
listeners;  but  Jimmy  was  obdurate. 

"No,  I  won't,"  he  returned,  sullenly. 

"Oh,  Jimmy,  will  you  please  go  on!"  whispered  Pete 
so  wistfully,  that  the  orator  relented. 

"  Course  I  will,  kid,"  he  answered;  and  with  a  sudden 
return  to  his  natural  manner,  continued:  "I  say,  Jim, 
we  fellers  think  you're  a  brick,  an'  we  never  had  such  a 
dinner  since  we  was  born,  an'  here's  a  present  the  fellers 
got  you.  Merry  Christmas!"  And  then  Jimmy  Peters, 
heated  and  happy,  extracted  from  the  inner  lining  of  his 
coat  a  sparkling  brilliant  set  on  a  long  pin,  which  he 
proceeded  to  stick  in  the  very  centre  of  his  host's  scarlet 
cravat. 

"I  say,  fellers,"  began  the  astonished  Professor;  and 
then  for  the  first  time  m  his  short  but  eventful  life  he 
found  himself  at  a  loss  for  an  answer. 

"Ain't  it  a  regular  beauty!''  exclaimed  Pete,  to  cover 
his  brother's  confusion. 

"Here's  the  turkey!"  yelled  Fatty,  and  the  announce- 
ment was  greeted  with  a  smothered  cheer. 

"Last  year  I  only  got  stuffing,"  sighed  Fatty,  in 
thanksgiving  over  a  well-filled  plate. 

"Was  it  stuffing  gave  you  the  fit?"  asked  Ben;  and  the 
joke  was  received  with  an  appreciative  yell. 

"  I  say,  Jim,  how  much  is  this  going  ter  cost?"  in- 
quired a  conscience-stricken  guest,  to  which  very  natural 
question  the  host  replied,  "Quarter  each,  an'  thirty-two 
for  extras."  Whereat  Ben  made  a  rapid  calculation  with 
his  thumb  nail  on  the  smooth  damask.  "Bummer's 
part  of  the  extras,"  added  Jim,  as  he  watched  the  mathe- 
matician. 

"Fellers,"  observed  Fatty,  struggling  with  a  drum- 
stick, "  suppose  we  chip  in  a  quarter  every  day  and  divy 
one  dinner,  'stead  of  gettin'  seven  at  Wiggins's?"  Upon 
which  George  fled  in  haste  to  a  secluded  nook  in  the 
hallway. 

"  I  can't  eat  any  more,"  announced  Fatty,  with  an  as- 
tonished stare  at  the  rest,  who  smiled  on  him  silently. 

"  We're  very  much  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  George,"  whis- 
pered Pete,  confidently,  to  the  still  grinning  darky;  while 
Billy  remarked  to  Jimmy  Peters,  "Did  you  ever  have  so 
much  dinner  before?" 

"  No,  I  never  did,"  returned  Jimmy  Peters,  with  con- 
viction, as  they  passed  onward  in  slow  procession. 

"  Bully  for  Jim!"  was  all  they  said  on  parting  in  the 
lamp-lighted  alley. 


THE   STORK.  EXPRESS,  LIMITED. 

BY  BARNET  PHILLIPS. 


JN  the  last  Christmas  number  of  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEO- 
PLE the  first  part  of  "The  Stork  Express,  Limited," 
appeared. 

The  baby  and  the  Stork  never  return,  however. 

"  What  a  grand  romp  we  would  have  had,"  she  said 
to  herself  year  by  year  —  "  what  a  grand  romp  that  baby 
and  I  would  have  had  !" 

For  several  years  after  what  then  occurred,  when  in 
early  spring  storks  were  on  the  wing,  Great  -grandma 
Pelican  would  take  a  long  look  at  them,  following  the 
birds  along  the  wide  stretch  of  blue  sky. 

One  morning  there  flitted  a  long  ribbon  of  storks, 
streaming  away  aloft,  and  there  was  a  laggard.  Then  a 
single  stork  cut  loose  from  the  flock,  and  sho£"  down- 
wards and  downwards,  falling  like  a  dart  towards  the 
earth  . 

"  Poor  thing!"  cried  Great-grandma  Pelican,  mightily 
disturbed.  "Maybe  it  is  hurt  or  tired."  She  was  think- 
ing of  a  warm  sand-bath  and  other  simple  restoratives. 
The  next  instant  Great-grandma  Pelican  had  a  stork 
tight  folded  to  her  soft  feathery  breast.  It  was  her  own 
dear  Stork.  "Oh,  don't  you  cry  so  !"  sobbed  the  Pelican. 
"You  didn't  drop  that  baby  by  the  way?" 

Now  it  was  the  Stork's  turn  to  calm  the  Pelican.  "  No, 
dear  great-grandma,  the  infant  did  not  slip  off.  I  ask 
you  now,  did  you  ever  hear  of  a  stork  allowing  any  infant 
under  his  care  to  be  even  chipped  or  splintered?  We 
should  not  be  carrying  on  the  express  business  if  we 
spoiled  infants.  I  landed  him  safe  and  sound  several 
Christmases  ago.  I  didn't  lose  him,  but  I  lost  my  heart 
to  him." 

"Rubbish!  Just  as  if  there  were  not  plenty  of  other 
babies,"  said  the  Pelican,  disappointed. 

"Of  course  there  are;  but  the  trouble  is  that  it  may 
just  so  happen  that  you  love  one  particular  baby  more 
than  another." 


..^sf&:- 

'WHAT  A  GRAND  ROMP  THAT  BABY  AND  I  WOULD  HAVE  HAD!" 


DECEMBER  11,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


93 


"  It's  the  infant's  fault.  It  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  it- 
self." 

"Oil,  hold  that  infant  hlameless !  I  flew  away  with 
him,"  said  the  Stork,  "  but  he  kissed  his  hand  to  you." 

"Did  he?  That's  just  like  him.  I  wonder  if  he  knows 
or  cares  how  I  have  twisted  my  neck  quite  out  of  joint 
gazing  up  in  the  skies  for  you?  Hurry  up  and  fetch  him." 

"  Boo-hoo !"  sobbed  the  Stork.  "  I  could  not  bring  him. 
He  has  grown  too  big." 

"  And  you  don't  call  that  perverseness? 
Why  are  you  not  an  ostrich?  You  would 
not  be  expected  to  fly  with  him,  but  you 
could  trot  him  out  if  you  were  an  ostrich. 
Did  you  not  see  him?" 

"  Yes.  I  couldn't  keep  away  from  him. 
It  was  about  four  years  ago,  as  you  re- 
member, when  we  made  our  trip.  He  is 
a  superb  boy  now.  It  happened  in  this 
way.  I  sat  on  a  tree  thinking  how  I 
could  manage  to  attract  his  attention  and 
make  him  understand,  and  I  naturally 
scratched  my  head;  that  amused  him,  for 
lie  clapped  his  hands.  There  was  a  nice 
dry  spot  under  a  tree,  and  I  hopped  down 
and  danced  for  him." 

"  Admirably  thoughtful,"  said  the  Peli- 
can. "  Now  pray  be  very  precise  as  to  the 
exact  steps  you  took.  It  is  important." 

"  First  I  gave  him  the  '  Tampa  Bay  Bo- 
lero,' next  the  'Everglade  Glissade,'  then 
the  'Jupiter  Inlet  Jig'  and  the  'Mem- 
phis Mazurka.'  " 

"Not  a  bad  programme,"  remarked  the  Pelican,  crit- 
ically, "  though  a  trifle  fancy." 

"I  was  saving  up  for  the  final  the  '  Sandy  Hill  Break- 
down,' the  real  old-fashioned  plantation  thing,  and  no 
mistake,  and  I  threw  into  that  my  finest  flops." 

"Did  that  fetch  him?"  inquired  the  Pelican. 

"It  did!  it  did!  When,  alas!  the  dear  child  got 
one  foot  in  the  mud,  it  was  so  marshy,  and  his  shoe 
stuck  in  the  ooze,  and  he  stumbled  and  fell;  but  I  kissed 
him." 

"We  are  saved!"  cried  the  Pelican,  enthusiastically. 

"  I  might  have  won  him  back,  but  just  then  a  horrid 
pup  came  tumbling  in.  The  clumsy  brute  jumped  on  him, 


THE    GERMAN    STORKS. 


GREAT-GRANDMA    PELICAN    WATCHED    THE    FLIGHT    OF   THE    STORK. 


then  made  an  effort  to  lick  his  face,  and  next  made  a  bolt 
at  me." 

"  The  cur!  Oh,  I  do  so  hate  dogs!"  cried  the  Pelican. 
"I  made  a  jab  at  the  pup;  he  howled,  put  his  tail  be- 
tween his  legs,  and  scooted.  Then  when  he  was  safe  on 
the  other  side  of  a  fence  he  barked  himself  into  convul- 
sions. I  was  getting  braver  and  braver,  when  I  heard  a 
voice  saying,  '  Where  can  that  blessed  child  be?'  and  the 
next  moment  I  saw  a  woman,  and  I  rather  fancy  she  was 
my  own  infant's  mother.  What  could  I  do  then?" 

Of  course  it  would  never  have  done  for  a  stork  to  get 
into  the  bad  graces  of  the  mothers.  "  Couldn't  you  have 
blamied  her?"  said  the  Pelican,  reflectively. 

"She  had  a  parasol  in  one 
hand  and  a  gingerbread  in  the 
other,"  continued  the  Stork. 

"  A  parasol  is  a  very  danger- 
ous weapon,"  remarked  the 
Pelican,  ' '  and  so  is  gingerbread 
when  it  is  underbaked." 

When  the  Stork  looked  at 
the  Pelican  her  head  and  pouch 
were  no  longer  visible.  She 
had  them  under  her  wing. 

"I  am  pondering,"  said  she, 
in  a  smothered  voice.  "But 
go  ahead.  Anything  more?" 

"There  was  nothing-  to  keep 
me  there  after  that.  I  was  so 
forlorn  !  I  became  reckless.  I 
joined  a  party  of  tourist  storks, 
and  spent  the  winter  with  them 
in  Abyssinia." 

"Those  are  the  storks  that 
lived  in  Germany,  who  are  all 
soldiers  and  who  smoke  pipes." 
Then  the  Pelican  jerked  her 
head  out  from  under  her  wing, 
and  slowly  approaching  the 
Stork,  whispered  something  in 
his  ear. 


94 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLDME  XVI. 


The  Stork  jumped  and  seemed  amazed.  "  Wha-t  you 
propose  is  frightfully  difficult.  Why,  it  endangers  my 
life  and  my  liberty!"  he  cried. 

"I  know  it  does,  but  it's  your  only  chance.  You  will 
have  to  go  through  a  whole  course  of  study — primers, 
first  and  fortieth  readers,  dictionaries,  seventy-six  vol- 
umes, copy-books,  slates,  rulers,  everything;  ink  yourself 
all  over,  be  late  to  school,  get  marks,  reprimands,  be  haul- 
ed up  before  the  principal,  play  truant.  Oh,  it's  hard;  I 
know  it.  But,"  concluded  the  Pelican,  decidedly,  "it's 
all  that  or  no  boy.  There !  I  have  pondered  myself  into 
a  headache." 

"Will  you  cry  for  me  real  good  if  you  nevermore 
Lave  tidings  of  me!  Then  you  will  know  that  I  have 
been  captured  or  am  dead,"  said  the  Stork. 

"  Cry  for  you?  Why,  school  is  not  such  a  dreadful 
hardship.  Remember  this  precept :  be  sure  and  keep 
your  face  and  hands  clean."  Then  the  Pelican's  good 
old  heart  began  to  soften.  "Cry  for  you?  Certainly— 
tumblerfuls — quarts— bushels — lakes — seas — oceans  !  So 
that  you  may  judge  what  is  the  genuine  pure  sample,  I 
begin  at  once;"  and  great-grandma's  eyes  just  streamed. 

The  Stork  had  a  moment  of  hesitation,  and  then  braced 
himself  for  the  task.  There  were  love  and  pity  in  the 
Pelican's  face.  Once  more  she  enfolded  the  Stork  in  her 
wings.  Then  the  Stork  rustled  his  broad  white  pinions, 
spurned  the  ground,  and,  with  a  parting  cry,  was  off  like 
a  shot. 

[CONCLUDED  is  NEXT  ISSUE.] 


AFLOAT  WITH  THE   FLAG; 


BY    W.  J.  HENDERSON. 


CHAPTER    XI. 
THE    THREE  FRIENDS   MEET. 


MR.  KING." 
"  Ay,  ay,  sir." 


Harold  was  superintending  some  slight  work  on  the 
forecastle  deck  when  he  was  called  by  Mr.  Harniss. 

"I  want  you  and  Mr.  Briscomb  to  take  the  second  cut- 
ter in  tow  of  the  launch,  and  go  to  the  wharf  to  bring  off 
some  stores." 

"Very  good,  sir,"  said  Harold. 

A  few  minutes  later  the  boats  were  alongside.  Harold 
jumped  into  the  steam-launch  a«d  took  in  tow  the  cutter, 
with  George  in  the  stern  sheets.  Neither  boat  carried  a 
full  crew,  but  had  just  enough  men  to  handle  them  in  case 
of  emergency.  All  available  space  and  carrying  power 
was  reserved  for  the  stores  to  be  brought  off.  The  strong, 
chubby  little  launch  pulled  the  heavy  cutter  along  at  a 
lively  pace,  and  as  the  foam  rolled  past  them  and  their 
speed  created  a  refreshing  breeze,  the  two  boys  recovered 
from  a  depression  which  had  settled  upon  them  during  the 
days  of  dull  routine  drill  and  work  subsequent  to  their 
arrival.  It  was  tbe  first  time  they  had  secured  an  op- 
portunity to  go  ashore.  Liberty  was  not  often  given  on 
account  of  the  unsettled  condition  of  affairs  in  the  city. 
American  seamen  were  especially  liable  to  assault  by  the 
disaffected  elements  of  the  populace,  because  there  was  a 
suppressed  but  general  feeling  that  in  some  way  the  power 
of  the  United  States  would  sooner  or  later  make  itself  felt 
in  the  struggle.  Harold  and  George  understood  the  con- 
dition of  affairs,  and  they  were  careful  not  to  permit  their 
men  to  leave  the  wharf.  Their  stores  having  been  ob- 
tained, they  got  under  way  again  for  the  ship.  As  they 
were  passing  the  point  of  the  island  near  which  the  in- 
surgent fleet  was  anchored,  they  saw  a  whale-boat  urged 

*  Begun  in  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  No.  7&4. 


over  the  smooth  water  by  brawny  dark  arms.      An  officer 
stood  in  the  stern  waving  his  hand. 

"Say,  Hal,"  called  George  from  the  cutter,  "I  do  be- 
lieve that's  Frank." 

"So  do  I," answered  Hal. 

"  Well,  we  must  stop  and  have  a  few  minutes'  chat  with 
him,  old  man." 

"Yes,  of  course.  We  are  away  inside  of  the  time  we 
were  allowed  for  getting  these  stores." 

It  was  Frank.  He  had  been  walking  the  deck  of  the 
Aquidaban,  when  his  eye  chanced  to  fall  on  the  two  boats 
of  the  Detroit  passing  the  point.  Knowing  the  ways  of 
the  American  navy,  lie  supposed  that  they  would  be  in 
charge  of  cadets,  and  of  course  there  was  a  chance  that 
the  cadets  might  be  his  friends.  So  he  ran  to  the  quarter- 
master on  duty  and  borrowed  his  binocular.  The  moment 
he  levelled  the  glass  at  the  boats  he  saw  that  the  two 
young  officers  in  them  were  Harold  and  George.  He 
went  at  once  to  the  executive  officer  of  the  ship  and 
said: 

"  Two  boats  from  the  American  cruiser  Detroit  hav& 
just  gone  ashore.  They  are  in  command  of  two  class- 
mates and  dear  friends  of  mine.  I'd  like  very  much  to- 
speak  to  them,  but  of  course  they  can't  come  aboard.  Will 
you  give  me  permission  to  go  off  in  a  boat  and  speak  to 
them  as  they  are  returning?" 

It  has  already  been  intimated  that  discipline  was  by  no- 
means  perfect  in  the  rebel  fleet.  Moreover,  the  Execu- 
tive Officer  had  eaten  a  very  hearty  dinner,  and  was 
sleepy.  So  he  replied: 

"  Oh,  certainly.      Goon." 

Frank  reported  the  matter  to  the  officer  of  the  deck, 
and  the  boat  was  at  once  ordered  away.  As  it  approached 
the  two  boats  from  the  Detroit,  Harold  brought  them  to 
a  rest.  A  minute  later  all  three  boats  were  drifting  to- 
gether. 

"Well,  this  is  a  jolly  go!"  exclaimed  George,  as  he 
shook  Frank's  hand.  "Who  would  have  thought  that 
we  three  fellows  would  meet  in  Rio  Harbor?" 

"  I  never  expected  to  see  you  fellows  down  here,"  said 
Frank;  "but  I'm  mighty  glad  that  you're  here." 

"  We  are  not  so  tremendously  glad  about  it,"  said  Hal. 

"Why?"  asked  Frank. 

"Because  we  are  here  to  help  protect  American  inter- 
ests, and  I  understand  they  are  in  more  danger  from  the 
reb — from  Admiral  da  Gama  than  from  President  Pei- 
xoto." 

"That  may  be  so,"  said  Frank;  "but  what  difference 
does  that  make  to  you?" 

"  Why,  Frank,"  exclaimed  George,  "  we  might  have  to 
fight  against  you." 

Frank  hung  his  head  and  looked  sad. 

"  You  didn't  think  of  that  possibility  when  you  enlist- 
ed in  this  service,  did  you,  Frank?"  asked  Hal. 

"No,  of  course  not.  If  I  had,  I  shouldn't  have  en- 
listed." 

"Besides,"  said  George,  "the  chances  are  that  there 
will  not  be  any  trouble." 

"  There  ought  to  be,"  said  Frank. 

"Why?"  asked  both  the  others. 

"  Because  the  flag  of  the  United  States  means  nothing 
to  these  people  down  here.  I've  seen  it  insulted  half  a 
dozen  times  since  I've  been  here  by  the  men  under  whom 
I  am  serving.  I  am  almost  tempted  to  desert." 

"  But  you  wouldn't  do  that  I"  exclaimed  Harold,  at  the 
same  time  glancing  inquiringly  at  the  Brazilian  seamen. 

"  Never  mind  them,"  said  Frank.  "  They  don't  under- 
stand a  word  of  anything  except  Portuguese  and  Span- 
ish. But  why  should  I  not  desert  rather  than  see  my 
country's  flag  insulted?" 

"  Because  you  have  pledged  yourself  to  serve  under  the 
insurgent  flag.  Your  word  must  not  be  broken,"  said 
Harold. 


DECEMBER  11,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


95 


"But  you  might  resign,"  suggested  George. 

"That  would  look  like  running  away,"  said  Hal. 

"Not  if  he  explained  his  reasons,"  said  George. 

"  No,  it  wouldn't  work,"  said  Frank.  "  They  wouldn't 
accept  my  resignation.  Educated  naval  officers  are  too 
scarce,  Beniios  says. " 

"  Bennos?     Is  that  the  one  we  met  in  New  York?" 

"Yes;  and  you've  no  idea  what  a  good  fellow  lie  is. 
He  has  almost  made  life  endurable  for  me  aboard  yon- 
der ship." 

"Remember  us  both  to  him,  Frank."  said  Hal,  "and 
give  him  our  kindest  regards." 

"What's  that?"  exclaimed  George. 

The  deep  reverberation  of  a  gun  rolled  up  the  bay,  fol- 
lowed by  another,  and  yet  others.  All  hands  turned  their 
gaze  southward,  where  they  beheld  a  white  ship  with  a 
three  masted  schooner  rig  corning  up  the  bay. 

"  What  ship  is  that?"  asked  Frank. 

"Don't  you  remember  her?"  cried  Hal;  "that's  the 
San  Francisco!  She  was  not  expected  till  next  week." 

"That  makes  four  ships  for  Uncle  Sam  in  Rio  Harbor," 
said  George. 

"Yet  there  is  no  match  for  my  prison  there,"  said 
Frank-,  nodding  toward  the  Aquidaban. 

"  That's  true  enough,"  said  Hal.  "  but  the  Aquidalmn 
may  not  always  be  lying  at  anchor  in  Rio  Harbor.  She 
may  have  to  go  elsewhere." 

"I  hope  and  pray  that  she  may  do  so  if  there,  is  to  be 
trouble  with  the  United  States  fleet." 

The  three  boys  sat  silently  watching  the  San  Francis- 
co as  she  came  speedily  up  the  bay.  When  she  was  op- 
posite the  Aquidaban  she  ran  up  the  Brazilian  flag,  and 
saluted  it.  The  officers  of  the  insurgent  flag  ship  seemed 
somewhat  taken  aback,  but  they  contrived  to  reply  with- 
in reasonable  time. 

"Well, "said  George,  "that  doesn't  look  as  if  there 
was  going  to  be  trouble." 

"  I  am  afraid  it  does,"  said  Hal ;  "  trouble  for  Admiral 
Stanton,  who's  in  command  of  the  San  Francisco,  and 
now  also  of  our  fleet.  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  Uncle 
Sam  invited  him  to  come  home." 

"Then  you  don't  think  the  government  at  Washington 
will  recognize— us  ?"  said  Frank,  putting  a  bitter  emphasis 
on  the  last  word. 

"  I'm  afraid  not,  Frank,"  said  Harold.  "  Our  govern- 
ment is  committed  to  the  friendly  support  of  republics." 

Bang!  went  another  gun  down  the  bay.  This  time 
all  three  boys  sprang  to  their  feet,  for  all  were  thoroughly 
surprised. 

"  It's  a  white  ship!"  exclaimed  George.      "A  big  one!" 

Harold  had  a  pair  of  marine  glasses,  and  he  raised 
them  to  his  eyes. 

"The  American  flag!"  he  exclaimed. 

"Then  it's  the  armored  cruiser  New  York!''  cried 
George.  "  Frank,  old  man,  the  Aquidaban  will  find  her 
an  ugly  customer!" 

"  I  pray  not,"  said  Frank,  sadly. 

"Poor  old  man."  exclaimed  Hai-old.  sympathetically. 

The  three  boys  now  silently  watched  the  magnificent 
war -ship  steaming  in  majestic  state  up  the  harbor. 
Through  his  glasses  Harold  could  see  that  the  water- 
fronts of  Rio  and  Nictheroy  were  black  with  people  wav- 
ing their  hats  and  handkerchiefs.  The  rigging  of  the 
British  men-of-war  looked  like  a  lot  of  spider-webs  well 
stocked  with  flies,  while  the  decks  of  the  other  war-ships 
were  crowded  with  sailor-men  gazing  eagerly  at  the  latest 
example  of  Uncle  Sam's  new  navy.  The  American  mer- 
chantmen maimed  their  yards  and  ran  up  all  their  flags, 
while  across  the  water  came  ringing  three  hearty  Yan- 
kee cheers.  The  cruiser  dipped  her  flag  in  answer  to  all 
these  tokens  of  welcome,  and  steered  steadily  for  the  an- 
chorage indicated  by  the  San  Francisco's  signals.  With 
her  three  yellow  stacks,  her  two  turrets  showing  the  four 


eight-inch  guns,  her  frowning  broadside  of  five-inch  rap- 
id-fire guns,  and  her  double  fighting-tops,  she  looked  a 
picture  of  naval  prowess.  As  she  glided  by  the  launch 
and  the  two  cutters  within  a  biscuit's  throw,  Harold  and 
George  stood  up  at  attention,  their  hearts  beating  high, 
while  thev  read  across  her  rounded  stern  the  words  New 
York. 

CHAPTER     XII. 
AN    ALARMING    OUTLOOK. 

"W'lCH  the  same  I  begs  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Peter 
Morris,  who  was  acting  as  cockswain  of  the  launch,  "but 
as  my  brother  Bill  used  to  say,  clocks  'ain't  got  110  pa- 
tience, an'  won't  wait." 

"That's  so,  Peter,"  said  Hal;  "we  must  be  moving 
back  to  the  ship." 

"Wait  a  minute, "said  Frank.  "I've  not  told  you  my 
most  important  news  yet." 

"I  thought  you  had  something  on  your  mind,"  said 
George. 

"  It's  about  your  Cousin  Bob,"  added  Hal. 

"  Partly,  and  also  about  my  Uncle  Hiram  and  Minnie." 

"What  is  it,  Frank?"  asked  George. 

"Have  you  learned  anything  about  your  cousin?"  in- 
quired Hal. 

"  Wait  a  bit,  fellows,  and  I'll  tell  you  the  whole  of  it. 
I  find  now  that  I  was  doubly  foolish  in  enlisting  in  this 
service.  Not  only  am  I  serving  a  foreign  flag,  but  I  am 
practically  a  prisoner  on  the  water.  As  far  as  I  can  as- 
certain, my  Cousin  Robert— if  our  man  is  really  he— de- 
serted from  the  Tamandare  when  the  rebellion  broke 
out,  and  is  now  in  the  service  of  Peixoto.  I  can't  go 
ashore  to  make  a  single  move  in  the  search  for  him,  be- 
cause I  am  an  officer  in  the  rebel  fleet.  And  even  if  I 
could,  I  shouldn't  know  what  to  do  with  him  if  I  found 
him,  for  Bennos  tells  me  the  insurgent  Admiral  would 
have  him  shot  for  deserting." 

"Well,  old  man,  that's  pretty  rough, "said  Hal. 

"  It  are  wot  we  calls  afore  the  mast,"  said  Peter;  "hang- 
in'  atwixt  wind  an'  water." 

Frank  looked  inquiringly  at  Hal,  who  said, 

"  Cockswain  Peter  Morris  is  a  privileged  character  with 
us;  he  saved  our  lives  in  Norfolk  Harbor." 

Frank  shook  hands  with  the  honest  seaman,  and  then 
continued, 

"I  wrote  to  Uncle  Hiram  telling  him  all  about  this 
matter,  and  three  days  ago  I  received  his  reply." 

"What  did  he  say?"  asked  Hal. 

"Well,  the  fact  is,"  answered  Frank,  "he's  coming 
down  here." 

"What,  to  Rio!"  exclaimed  George. 

"Yes;  he  can't  stand  the  anxiety  any  longer,"  said 
Frank,  "  and  he's  coming  down  to  try  and  carry  on  the 
search  himself." 

Frank  drew  the  letter  from  his  pocket  and  handed  it 
to  his  two  friends.  It  had  been  forwarded  from  one  of 
the  West-Indian  islands,  and  read  thus : 

"DEAR  FRANK, — You  will  be  surprised,  I  know,  when 
you  read  this  letter,  for  I  write  to  tell  you  that  I  am 
about  to  start  for  Rio,  where  I  expect  to  meet  you.  Cap- 
tain Bisbee,  of  my  bark,  the  Alma,  has  been  taken  sick, 
and  will  be  unable  to  go  out  this  voyage.  So  I  am  tak- 
ing advantage  of  the  situation  to  command  the  bark  my- 
self, and  so  go  down  to  Rio  to  see  if  I  can't  do  something 
about  finding  my  boy.  If  what  you  tell  me  is  true,  I 
sha'ii't  have  so  very  much  trouble  about  finding  him, 
though  I  may  not  be  able  to  get  him  released  from  the 
government  service  right  away.  Still,  from  what  I  read 
in  the  papers,  the  rebellion  doesn't  amount  to  much,  and 
will  soon  be  over.  I've  made  up  my  mind  to  bring  Minnie 
along  with  me.  I  haven't  any  one  to  leave  her  with,  and 


AS    THE    "NEW    YORK"    GLIDED   BY    HAROLD    AND    GEORGE    STOOD    UP    AT    ATTENTION. 


I  haven't  the  heart  to  put  her  in  a  boarding-school.  So, 
as  the  Alma  lias  about  as  tidy  a  cabin  as  any  clipper-ship 
that  sails  out  of  New  York,  she's  going  to  be  my  pas- 
senger. So  when  you  get  this  letter,  Frank,  I'll  be  taking 
a  squint  to  windward  once  more,  and  heading  for  low 
latitudes  with  as  fine  a  keel  under  me  as  ever  was  laid. 
Minnie  sends  you  her  love. 

Your  affectionate  uncle, 

HIRAM  LOCKWOOD." 

"P.S. — We  are  lying  at  anchor  at  St.  Thomas,  and  I 
just  found  this  letter  in  one  of  my  pockets.  I  thought 
I'd  sent  it  long  ago.  We  fell  in  with  a  hard  puff  from 
the  no'theast  the  other  day,  and  carried  away  our  flying 
jibboom.  So  I  made  St.  Thomas  to  get  another.  Pm 
going  to  send  this  letter  by  the  steamer  that  leaves  to-day. 
Minnie's  learning  to  be  a  right  good  sailor,  and  before  we 
get  home  I  reckon  she'll  be  able  to  keep  her  weather  eye 
lifting  with  the  best  of  them." 

"What  a  brave,  cheerful  man  he  is  iu  spite  of  his 
trouble !"  said  Hal,  warmly. 

"  Yes,  he  is,  God  bless  him  !"  said  Frank.  "  But  I  wish 
he  knew  the  exact  condition  of  affairs  down  here." 

"  Is  it  so  bad  for  the  merchant-ships?"  asked  George. 

"If  you  weren't  just  cadets,"  said  Frank,  a  little  im- 
patiently, "you'd  know  what  was  going  on.  Merchant- 
ships  in  this  harbor  haven't  had  any  protection  at  all. 
Our  gunners  are  rank,  and  there  have  been  some  pretty 
wild  shots  that  must  have  scraped  the  varnish  off  some  of 
their  spars.  Worse  than  that,  I  don't  think  our  officers 
care  a  rap  if  we  do  hit  a  bark  or  two.  England's  the  only 
power  we're  afraid  of,  and  we  think  she  sympathizes  with 
us.  But  there's  something  else.  Have  you  noticed  the 
wharves?" 

"Yes," replied  Harold.      "They're  all  unoccupied." 

"And  the  merchant-ships,"  continued  Frank,  "are 
spending  a  lot  of  money  on  lighters  to  land  their  cargoes. 


That's  because  Admiral  da  Gama  refuses  to  let  the  ships 
go  to  the  wharves,  for  when  they  are  there  he  can't  fire 
on  the  city  on  account  of  their  being  in  the  line  of  fire." 

"I  hadn't  thought  of  that,"  said  Harold. 

"No,"  said  Frank,  "and  I  didn't  pay  much  attention 
to  it  myself  till  I  got  this  letter.  Now  I  know  Uncle 
Hiram.  He  will  not  come  down  here  without  a  cargo; 
and  he'll  insist  on  going  to  a  wharf.  Besides,  he  must  be 
in  constant  communication  with  the  city  if  he's  going  to 
find  Bob;  and  so — 

The  boy's  speech  was  rudely  interrupted  by  the  shriek 
of  a  shot  passing  over  the  boats. 

"Give  'way,  lads!"  he  cried;  "it's  one  of  the  govern- 
ment's armed  tugs,  and  she's  after  me." 

"  How  dare  they  fire  on  our  flag'?'  exclaiined  George. 

"  W'ich  same  they  didn't,"  said  Peter;  '"cos  w'y,  I  took 
it  down.  It  are  jest  as  well  to  keep  dark  w'en  you  are 
a-conversin'  with  rebels." 

"But  they'll  catch  him,"  said  Hal.  "He  has  half  a 
mile  the  start,  but  his  men  can't  row  him  fast  enough." 

"W'en  in  doubt  play  trumps  are  wot  I  says,"  said 
Peter.  "  Let's  go  an'  give  him  a  tow." 

It  was  a  hazardous  thing  to  do,  for  if  the  boys  had  been 
detected  by  their  superiors  they  would  have  been  liable  to 
court  martial  for  "taking  sides"  in  the  quarrel.  The 
little  launch  puffed  awayand  soon  overtook  Frank's  boat. 

"Give  us  your  painter,  old  man,"  cried  George ;  "we'll 
tow  you  close  to  the  Aquiddban." 

The  line  was  taken,  and  the  launch  began  to  tow  the 
two  cutters. 

"They're  a-gainin'on  to  us," said  Peter;  "but  a  stern 
chase  are  a  long  chase,  as  the  plough  said  to  the  farmer." 

At  this  instant  a  heavy  report  rang  out,  and  a  shot 
from  the  Aquidaban  whizzed  aci-oss  the  bows  of  the  tug. 

"I  reckon  that'll  take  four  knots  off  her  speed, "said 
Peter,  looking  back  over  his  shoulder. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


THE     DOLLS. -A     DRAMA     IN     PANTOMIME. 


Music  BY  OWEN  WISTEK. 


FLOIUAN,  n  Savoyard. 

JOBST,  a  Fa i  in-  /•• 

CAPTAIN  RUDOMONT,  a  Fn  n,-h  Soldi*  / 

A  ULACK.  FOOTMAN. 


BY    THOMAS    \VIIARTON. 


CHARACTERS  / 
A    (iiCANTH     F.'ftTMAN. 
A    (  'T.I'  IKiVMA  N. 
FltKNCIl    AND    (il'KMAN    SoLDI 

WKDDING  GUHSTS. 


ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  HOWARD   I'ENFIELU. 


TINA,  a  Shepherdess. 
MAI>EMOISKLI,I<:.  <r  1'nrixiitn. 
HAGAU,  a  Black  Maid. 
CHRY.SANTIIKMI.MI,  a  ./II/HIIX-M  .}fai 


WHILE  the  curtain  is  still  down  one 
corner  of  it,  is  pushed  timidly  aside, 
and  Florian  puts  out  his  head  and 
peeps  at  the  audience.  Gathering 
courage,  lie  thrusts  his  shoulder  for- 
ward, and  finally,  after  several  at- 
tacks of  shyness,  succeeds  in  bring- 
-  ing  himself  wholly  before  the  cur- 
tain. Once  iu  full  view,  he  sidles 
to  the  middle  of  the  slage,  and  with 
a  bobbing  reverence  that  shows  the 
woodenness  of  his  joints,  begins  the 
prologue. 

FLOKIAN.  Only  a  moment.     I  will 
only    ask     a     moment. 

(He    holds    n/i    tirn   Jinii,  rs 
nml    nm/,,s     ,'n     i.i'm'issiri 
TINA  ENTERS.  i/'sture.)      You  see,  I  am 

the  Prologue  (In   Ini/s  Ins 

Immls  nn  his  Imast,  then  extends  thun,  nml  limi'S  to  the 
ri;/hl  and  left),  and  1  am  sent  to  beg  your  favor  (he 
motions  toward  the  side  .sce^les,  and  shines  ijnn,  /nnv  he  has 
coma  on  the  star/e),  and  to  tell  you  (he  stretches  out  his 
/mm/}  what  is  the  meaning  of  our  play.  (Now  both 
his  little  hands  are  stretched  out.)  Alas!  you  think  us 
dolls!  (He  expresses  tins  Immutable  iilm  hi/  shaking 

his  hut,/  smllii;    In   iiiiints  to    the  Spec/nfin's,  nml    then    at 

himself;  then,  all  at  oner  he  assumes  the  avkii-an/,  life- 
less  attitiidt  of  a  doll,  and  stands  so  for  a  nnnm'nt.)  Yes, 
dolls.  (He  repeats  the  attitude.)  But  we  are  Dot.  (lie 
changes  suddenly  inl,,  nn  n/fitmle  of  the  most  I'ie/orotts 
and  indignant  denial.)  No;  we  are  not  the  creatures 
that  you  play  wilh  and  consider  mere  bits  of  wood 
and  cloth  and  wax.  (He stands  quivering  before th<  au- 
dience, his  breast  hineiml,  /lis  Immls  n/n  ninil  nml  shiltliini; 

lii  sums  to  lie  impliii'iinj  i/nn  in  understand.')  We  are  like  yourselves. 
( He  strikes  his  mm  hrenst,  aiul  then  makes  a  proud  and  sn-i  r/>imi  n,s;  nn  ir/fh 
his  arm,  .so  fix  to  take  in  all  those  ii;hnsi'  ri/rs  an  Inrmil  iifmn  him.)  We 
see;  we  hear;  we  have  hearts  to  feel.  (Florian  first  similes  Itiseijfs  and 
sums  lo  look  into  tin  ilislnnri  ;  In:  ji/ans  /iis  Iminl  to  his  mr  nml  Us/ins  . 
iln  n  In  I'ln/is  his  Immls  tn  his  heart,  as  if  he  had  received  a  blow  there.) 
Yes,  we  have  our  sorrows  and  our  joys,  anil  they  are  like  yours. 
(Hi  depicts  sorrow  am/  nn/  in  t "  fit,  n  ml  n-iili  n  mnnnniif  full  of  meaning 

rfnni*  nut  Ins  lift  /mm/  linen ,'</  //n   spectators,  pressing  Im/m    f/n    l,Liins\  nf 

these  ,nm I, mis  lo  their  men.)  No;  do  not  look  on  us  as  puppets  and 
playthings.  (Iff  im/i/s  n/>  /iis  Innnl  in,  ii-ari/iin;,  /i/s  his  nrins  ilfuji  Innn/ 
ami  ii'ooi/en  like  a  doll's  for  nn  inslniil,  Iln  n  recovers  liims,  If  nml  .slink,  s 

/us  lii, ill.)     \fe  pray  to  you  (he  kneels),  think  of  us  as  your  fellows 


(he  stretches  out  his  arms  beseechingly),  vrho  are  stirred  by  the  same 
passions  and  breathe  the  same  air. 

[He  xpriniis  fn  his  fat,  t.rfinds  /iis  n/'ms  toward  7teaven,and  i-ns/s  /iis 
ei/es  iijiii'iii-il  in   ,  .I'lil/n/mn.     lie  stands  (has  fin-  n  hrii  r  snnn  .- 

111,  n  turning  toward  tht   snl,   sums,  ilnns  Ins  Immls  lhl-«   linns  ill 

measured  Innts,  nml  motions  for  tin1  rnrfain  to  be  raised.  He 
waves  an  adieu  to  the  audience,  and  runs  out  quickly.  The  cur- 
tain rises. 

ACT   I. 

The  scene  represents  a  meadow  and  grove  near  a  village.  The 
farm-bouse  of  I  he  farmer  stands  on  the  light.  It  is  surrounded 
by  chickens  and  sheep.  To  the  left  is  seen  the  grove.  Across 
the  back  of  the  stage  runs  a  brick  wall.  It  is  early  morning, 
and  the  stage  is  still  dark. 


AIUIS  TINA. 


THE   STl.Mn- 


FIRST    SCENE. 
JOBBT,  THE  FAKMKK;    AFTKIUV 

enters  from  the  right,  behind  the  farm-house. 

He  carries  a  lantern.  He  yawns  profoundly;  in 
so  doing  he  raises  his  arms  so  high  that  he  dis- 
covers that  the  lamp  is  still  burning.  '"He  has- 
tily blows  it  out.  Immediately  day  breaks  over 
Hie  farm  in  full  splendor.  Job.it  sets  down  the 
lantern,  and  proceeds  to  count  his  sheep  and 
chickens,  ticking  them  off  on  his  fingers.  He 
becomes  confused,  and  is  forced  to  begin  over 
an'ain.  This  happens  twice.  At  last  lie  sat- 
isfies himself  that  his  stock  is 
still  iniact.  and  nods  his  head 
in  satisfaction.  He  Uuoeks 
over  a  chicken,  and  >ets  it  on 
iis  feet  again;  then  raising  bis 
head,  he  looks  about  him. 
Jin:sT.  Where  is  Tina'.'  (lie  ////•/»•  evident  signs 

nf  dissatisfaction.)    Tina!     (He  calls,  s/nm/is  liis  fun/, 

nml  motions  with  his  arm.      Tina  enters   slmrlii.  i-nh- 

hiinl  her  eijes  ami  iinirninii.      .^/n   rnri'iis  n  s/nn/n  nl's 

crook  )     Hurry    up,  you   idle  little  good-for-no- 
thing! 

//,   -i'lim/is  his  foot  once  more. 
TINA.   Oh,  how  tired  I  am! 

[NAf  jnins  tier  /nnn/s  in  supplication. 
JOBST.   Do  you   not  see  what  lime  it    is?     (He 
/minis  In  iln  sun.)     Be  off  with  your  sheep  to  the 
re. 

[  To   xhm''  hi  r   ii'/mf    In    imilns    In    Injis   In:'  CTQoh       ,-['M    u.\LY   TINA! 


98 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME    XVI. 


FLORIAN    DANCES   IN. 


tin  n  points  to  the  sheep,  and   then    in   the 
direction  of  the  pasture,  which  apparently 
lies  off  to  the  left  beyond  the  grove. 
TINA.  But  1  have  not  breakfasted  yet! 
\Sln  nrtij'is -Jobst's  ordir  with  alarmed  sur- 
prise; and  pointing  to  her  teeth,  which  she 
chatters  as  if  she  were  eating,  and  rnlhiini 
In  r  stiimin-li,  she  shakes  her  head  to  signify 
that  sf  1 1    is  still  us  liinifirtj  as  ichm  she  got 

il  fi  I'll!  i>f  In  il 

JOBST.  Here,  then. 

[from   one  pockit   nf   l/i.i   long  overcoat  he 
tnki-s  mi   <i/>iilt,  ichich  he  breaks  in  half. 
II  is  about  to  give  half  to  Tina,  when  In 
t'l^f  ruins   liiiii.it/f,  and  breaking  the  half 
inlii  two  pieces,  gives  her  a  quarter.    From, 
the  other  pocket  of  his  overcoat  he  takes  a 
piece  of  bread.     He  breaks  that  in  half ; 
then  looks  at  Tina  as  before,  and  breaks 
the  half  intn  tn-i'i  tfiiiirti r.s • :    linn  lie  shakes  his  head,  and  puts 
all  the  bread,  back  into  his  pocket. 
TINA.  Stingy  old  hunks! 

[She  whimpers,  and  shon-s  htr  out-  poor  little  quarter-apple,  ichich  is 

all  she  has  to  nibble. 
JOBST.  Be  off  now! 

[He  picks  up  the  sheep,  and  carries  them  one  by  one  to  the  grove, 
where  he  sets  them  down  in  a  row,  with  their  noses  all  pointing 
toward  the  pasture.  On  one  of  these  trips  he  again  upsets  a 
i-hickt-n.and  n/ilaces  it  on  its  feel.  His  task  accomplished,  he 
beckons  to  Tina,  and  solemnly  pointing  toward  thefiock,  recom- 
mends her  to  her  ilnti/. 
TlNA  (rubbing  In  r  ii/is).  Yes.  sir. 

[Exit  Jobst,  R.,  with  a  warning  gesture. 

SECOND   SCENE. 

TINA,  AI.ONE;  AFTERWARDS  FLORIAN  AND  JOBST. 

TINA  {alone).  Oh.  how  miserable  I  am!  (She  casts  down  her  crook 
and  comes  forward,  wringing  her  hands.)  As  for  my  sheep  (she  points 
behind  her),  I  hate  the  sight  of  the  silly  things!  (She  raises  her 
clinched  fist  in  execration.)  What  a  life  I  lead!  (Stretching  out  both 
hands,  she  exhibits  her  miserable  condition  to  the  pitying  spectators.)  I 
am  cold,  I  am  sleepy,  I  am  hungry,  and  I  wear  this  tattered  old 
dress  (appropriate  gestures  make  this  pathetic  recital  quite  plain),  and  I 
tend  those  stupid  woolly  beasts  for  Farmer  Jobst.  (Her  eyes  blaze 
us  she  points  In  the  sheep  again.)  What  should  I  like  to  do?  Have 
a  fine  dinner  (she  smacks  her  lips),  dance  (she  dances),  wear  beautiful 
clothes,  and  be  a  lady.  (She  parades  up  and  down,  lifting  an  imagi- 
nary train,  ami  admiring  herself.)  But,  alas!  I  am  only  Tina,  and  I 
shall  never,  never  have  any  good  fortune.  (She  hangs  her  head  in 
il'  ep  depression.  As  she  indulges  hei'self  in  these  gloomy  reflections  n  fi  u- 
notes  of  a  shepherd's  pi  pi  sound  oittside.  Tina  raises  her  head  in  expec- 
tation.) It  is  Florian! 

Florian  enters  from  tin  lift  ii-ifli  n  _»/<"/.*/'/-.      lie  plays  on  a  shepherd's 
I'l/n .     He  dances  up  to  Tina,  nml  makes  as  if  to  embrace  her ;  but  she 
turns  fri'in  hiin,  heavy-hearted. 
FLORIAN.  What  is  the  matter? 

TINA.  I  am  unhappy.  [She  sighs. 

FLORIAN.  Never  mind.     Let  us  be  gay. 

[He  gives  her  a  convincing  little  illustration,  accompanied  by  a  note 

or  two  on  his  pipe. 

TINA.   Impossible.  [She  shakes  her  head  gloomily. 

FLORIAN.  Why? 
TINA  (looks  around  fearfully).  Farmer  Jobst. 

[Sht-  points  in  the  direction  in  which  he  disapjieared. 
FLOKIAN.  Pooh! 
TINA  (crying).  He  will  beat  me. 

[She  cowers,  and  shams  Florian  how  the  old  farmer  will  use  his  horny 

hands. 
FLORIAN.  I  have  it.     Marry  me. 

[He  triumphantly  passes  an  imaginary  ring  on  her  third  finger. 
TINA.  Do  you  mean  it? 
FLORIAN.  Certainly. 
TLNA.  But  Farmer  Jobst? 

[Again  she  indicates  her  fear  that  the  old  fellow  may  be  coming. 
FLORIAN.  We  will  run  away. 

[He  shnri-s  In  i-  luni'.  nml  catches  her  tnnnl. 

TINA.  Now? 

FLORIAN.  Why  not? 

TINA.  And  the  money?  [She  counts  out  imaginary  gold  pieces. 

FLORIAN.  Alas!  I  forgot  that. 

[Ht  tries  one  pocket  after  the  other;  both  are  em/iti/. 

TlNA.    I  told  you  SO.  |  •*>'/«  turns  away,  silently  tearful. 

FLOHIAN.  Tina! 

[He  follows  her,full  of  sympathy,  andpassis  his  arm  about  her  shoul- 
der. Unfortunately,  it  is  just  at  this  moment  that  the  tyrannical 
old  Jobst  reappears  with  a  big  stick,  which  he  proceeds  to  lay 
across  Master  Florian 's  shoulders.  Florian  cries  out,  and  runs 
away,  L.  Jobst  sternly  orders  Tina  to  proceed  to  the  pasture. 
Tina,  n-t:t:ping, picks  up  the  sheep  and  carries  them  off  t/n  sti'ir* 


one  by  one.  As  soon  as  Jobst  perceives  that  she  is  fairly  started 
in  her  labors  he  leaves  her,  with  a  warning  scoii'l.  Ax  In  goes 
off  toward  the  right  Mademoiselle  enters  —  the  most  *nj»  >•!> 
l-'ri-iich  doll  that  ever'was  seen  —  attended  by  a  negro  footman. 
Jobst  almost  bumps  into  her,  and  seeing  n-lmt  he  is  doing,  bim-s 
t<>  tin  ground  before  her.  She  receives  his  apology  with  a  havffhty 
xnni-1.  Tina,  from  the  grove,  observes  this  vision  of  loveliness 


THIRD   SCENE. 

TINA.  MAI'FMOISEI.T.IS  ANT>  THE  FOOTMAN. 

MADEMCIISKI.I.E.   Little  shepherd  girl,  be  off!     [She  points  away. 
TINA.  Nobody  wants  me. 

[She  makes  a  despairing  gesture  with  both  hands,  and  in  so  doing 

nearly  drops  htr  last  sheep. 
MADEMOISELLE.  Be  off,  I  say! 
TINA  (drawing  nearer).  Please  let  me  feel  if  your  dress  is  silk. 

[Xlic  tries  to  feel  it. 

MADEMOISELLE  (drawing  herself  up  proudly).  Hercules!  (The 
Ji'iifiiiiiii  interposes,  nml  waves  Tina  off.  Tina  finally  disappears  to 
IHH.IIII-C  her  sheep.  To  the  footman.)  I  shall  conceal  myself  here 
behind  these  irees  (she  points  to  them),  where  I  shall  be  unobserved. 
(She  lays  her  finger  to  her  lips  and.  hides  behind  the  largest  tree.)  Go. 

[She  motions  him  utray.     Exit  the  footman. 

FOURTH   SCENE. 

CAPTAIN  ROHOMONT  AND  ins  MEN;  AFTRILWARDS  FLORIAN. 
MADEMOISELLE  CONOKAI.KD. 

The  gallant  Captain  enters,  R.,  at  the  head  of  his  men,  who  ad- 
vance with  the  peculiarly  rigid  and  jerky  step  that  might  be 
expected  of  tin  soldiers.  He  halts  them  in  the  middle  of  tin- 
stage,  where  they  stand  in  a  perfectly  straight  line,  with  their 
guns  over  their  shoulders.  While  the  Captain  addresses  them 
^Mademoiselle  looks  out  from  behind  her  tree  with  evident  pride 
in  his  martial  bearing,  and  also  with  evident  satisfaction  in  the 
trick  she  is  playing  upon  him. 

RODOMONT.  My  men  (they  present  arms  very  slowly  and  jerkily),  the 
enemy  is  before  you.  (He  points  off,  L.  The  tin  soldiers  raise  their 
right  legs  simultaneously,  and  drop  with  leaden  confidence  into  (he  pi^itinn 
of  i-fmrgc  liaimints.)  He  will  doubtless  resist  you.  (Rodomont 
tii-i  *  it  supposititious  Mauser  rifle  at  his  men,  but  they  remain  unmonedat 
/In  idnrniing  prospect.)  He  will  struggle  with  you  to  the  death. 
(The  gallant  warrior  uses  an  imaginary  bayonet  with  ti'rri//>-  !'i>ri-i  _} 
Many  will  fall.  (  lie  claps  his  hand  to  his  breast,  closes  his  eyes,  am!  /its 
his  jaw  drop  like  a  dead  man's.)  Their  comrades  will  weep  for  them. 
(He  assumes  a  patriotic  attitude,  head  bared  and  bent,  eyes  fixed  on  a  m  n-ly 
made  grave,  cap  held  in  the  hands.)  But  you  will  be  victorious.  (The 
i'ltjitniii  \i/ji>  i-lifit  ii'nvis  an  iniiiginari/  banner,  and  calls  attention  to  tlie 
cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor  dangling  on  his  breast.)  Such,  my  chil- 
dren. is  the  reward  of  the  soldier.  Go  now  to  victory.  I  have 
1111  engagement  here  for  the  present.  (At  their  Captain's  riimmnnd 
tin  tin  .-.n/i/ii  r*  in-ill  i-  ii  ml  lln  a  i-iirrt/  arms,  and  march  out,  L.  Rodomont 
strikts  ft  is  breast,  and  points  to  the  ground  to  indicate  that  he  will  n  n«i  m  . 
Looks  about  anxiously.)  Where  is  she?  (Mademoiselle,  dclin/i/id 
with  the  success  of  her  ruse,  drau's  herself  into  a  vtry  small  i'n,n/»i>x.  n  ml 
n  mains  concealed  behind  the  tree.)  It  is  very  late.  (He  cmisii/ts  his 
watch,  "nd  starts  with  surprise  ti>  sn  the  hour.  A<j«ni  /«\  ijia/ni  M/V/'.S 
round  the  stage,  aiul  finally  falls  upon  Florian,  n-ho  cnlirs  nn  tiptoe,  R., 
in  find  Tina  again.  To  Florian.)  Who  are  you? 

FLORIAN.  Florian,  sir.  [He  makes  an  attempt  at  a  military  salute. 
RODOMONT.  Be  off  !  Or  no.  Here  —  tome!  (He  questions  Flori- 
.-iii  imjinssinly.)  Young  man,  listen.  Have  you  by  any  chance 
seen  near  here  (with  a  wave  of  his  hand  he  includes  their  surroundings) 
a  lady,  very  tall  and  stately,  beautiful,  with  golden  hair,  blue 
eyes,  pretty  rosy  cheeks  —  have  you  seen  such  a  person? 

[His  gestures  show  how  the  gallant  Captain  wishes  to  describe  the  lady 

to  Floriau. 

FLORIAN.  Have  I  seen  a  lad}'  —  tall  —  beautiful  —  golden  hair  — 
blue  eyes  —  rosy  cheeks  —  have  I  seen  her? 

[He  repeats  the  Captain's  attittidtf. 
RODOMONT  (delighted).  Exactly. 

FLORIAN.  Yes,  indeed!  and  1  will  bring  her  to  you. 
[He  points  to  himself,  then  off\j.,  and  tin  n 

back  to  Rodomout. 
RODOMONT.  Capital! 

[He  rubs  his  hands.       Florian    runs   off, 

ii.,t/n  n/i/iir  mi  rn  ni-e.  Mademoiselle, 

who  has  followed  tlii*  mti  n-ii  n-  with  the 
deepest  interest,  conrmls  Inrsilf  as  Fln- 
rian  runs  by,  then  shoics  herself  for  a 
moment,  and  i/nlnlii'^  in  a  quiet  fit  of 
lamihter  behind  the  unconscious  Cap- 
tain's back.  Then  she.  disappears 
again. 

FIFTH   SCENE. 

RODOMONT,  THEN  TINA  AND  FLOKIAN  ;  LATEK 
MADEMOISELLE. 

THE  CAPTAIN.  At  last   I   shall  see   her. 
(He  stands  in  nn  attitude  of  joyful  expectalimi, 


DECEMBER  11,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


99 


JDBST    IS    OVF.KOIMK. 


Imt  he  cannot  wait  long 
a  i l/i  patience.)    What, 
not  yet  here? 
[He  turns  ami  looks 
off  after     Flori- 
an,     curling    his 
mustachios.  Flo- 
rian     runs     in, 
bringing  Tina. 
FLORIAN.  Hero  sin 
is! 

[Tina  nimle^/y  casts 
don'ii  her  eyes. 
They  both  hold 
out  their  hanels 
for  a  tip. 

RODOMONT.    Kon- 
sense! 

FLORIAN.    What's 
the  matter? 

RODOMONT  (turning  amiy  loftily).   It's  not  the  right  person  at  all, 
ni\   uood  youth. 

FLORIAN.  No?  Why  not?  Look  at  her.  Isn't  she  tall — beauti- 
ful— with  golden  hair — blue  eyes — and  rosy  cheeks? 

[He  points  out  these  adrantnges  to  Rodomont,  and,  as  if  to  emjiha- 
size  his  remarks,  he  kisses  his  hand  to  Tina.      Then  he  aijain 
holds  out  his  hand  to  the  Captain  for  a  i-crmiijicnsi  for   rnniiinii 
his  errand. 
RODOMONT.  Certainly  not,  yrou  scamp! 

[He  teaves  Floriau  away,  and  turns  to  meet  Mademoiselle,  who  ad- 

vancix  "'if/i  i/ii/tiifi/  from  her  hiding-place. 
MADEMOISELLE.  Rodomont! 
RODOMONT  (with  effusion).  Mademoiselle! 

[//c  takes  In  r  hiinil  and  bows  over  it.  Then  he  nods  a  distant  adieu 
to  Tina,  and  conducts  Mademoiselle  off. 

SIXTH    SCENE. 
TINA,  FLOEIAN,  THEN  JOUST. 

At  the  sight  of  Mademoiselle,  all  Tina's  bitterness  of  spirit  re- 
turns. She  had  a  moment  of  happiness  when  she  stood  before 
this  splendid  officer,  but  now  she  sees  it  was  only  transitory. 
lie  has  been  reclaimed  by  the  proud,  the  brilliant,  and  high- 
born Mademoiselle,  who  is  of  his  own  rank  in  life,  and  '/'</'«  is 
left  to  be  consoled  by  Plorinn.  He  is  full  of  sympathy,  and 
takes  her  hand,  but  she  looks  off  after  the  departing  couple. 
She  clinches  her  fist  and  stamps  her  foot. 
TIXA.  I  hute  her! 

[As  the  two  stand  together,  Jobst  appears  again,  R.  He  ca/dus 
sight  < if  Ihnn.  and,  after  a  moment  spent  in.  horrid  glon/ini/  nn  r 
the  opportunity  thus  offered  to  him  again,  he  steals  ftp  behind 
Florian  nnil  ilenl*  li'/m  a  terrible  thwack  with  his  stick.  Tina 
screams,  and  runs  off]  L.  £ut  this  time  Floriau's  spirit  is 
aroused.  He  turns  on  Jobst,  snatches  the  stick  from  h's  Innnl . 
and,after  «  brii^f  strni/i/l, ,  elmsis  him  nff' the  stage.  As  he  runs 
he  trips  in;  r  tin  unfortunate  chicken  lehich  hns  been  so  freiji"  nt/y 
Wei-sit;  In-  pic/.-s  it  up  and  hurls  it  after  the  flying  Jobst. 

SEVENTH   SCENE. 

FLORIAN,  ALONK;  LATKB,  A  GERMAN  TIN  SOI.IHEK. 

FLORIAN  (he  comes  back  to  the  centre  of  the  stage).  I  was  never  so 
angry  in  my  life!  (He  makes  an  emphatic  gesture  with  his  fat.}  What 
with  Jobst  (lie  paints  off  R.)  and  the  Captain  (he  points  off  L. )  I  am 
in  a  fine  passion,  I  promise  you.  (He  shows  yon  that  his  cho/er  has 
mounted  up,  up,  up,  from  the  lowest  button  of  his  waistcoat  to  his  very 
ciiix;  and  then  he  tosses  his  arms  in,  the  air  to  denote  how  he  has  esplodeel 
ii-itli  if  rath.)  Sly  poor  Tina!  (He  points  off  toward  the  pasture,  and 
assumes  a  iluliieinis  expression.)  But  I  will  revenge  her!  (He  bran - 
i/is/ns  his  fist  and  walks  up  and  down.)  But  how?  (He  stops  and  con- 
sults with  himself ;  he  takes  his  chin  in  his  hand  and  plunges  deep  into 
reflection.  At  this  moment  the  spiked  helmet  and  head  of  a  Ijcrmnn  tin 
M'A/V<  r  appear  above  the  brick  wall.  The  tin  soldier  carefully  sura //*  tin 
scene  ;  on  beholding  Florian  he  cautiously  drops  behind  the  wall  again,  but 
not  so  quickly  that  he  has  not  been  perceived  in  his  turn  by  Fiorian,  who 
hns  wheeled  quickly  on  hearing  a  noise.  Florian  at  once  gives  signs  of 
linely  satisfaction. )  The  very  thing !  (He  claps  his  hands  together,  and 
points  with  exultation  to  the  njall.  He  looks  about  for  something  with 
which  to  signal  to  the  soldier.  He  has  Jobst's  stick,  find  after  a  mo- 
ment's hfsitntiim  ilrnu's  (nit  of  his  pocket  a  perfectly  interminable  hand- 
ki  /•e/iief,  which  he  ties  to  the  stick.  He  then  creeps  to  the  wall,  and  waves 
the  white  flag  thus  formed  above  it.  The  tin  soldier's  heeiel  once  more 
appears  above  the  wall.  He  ami  Florian  look  into  each  other's  eyes. 
Florian,  with  an  air  full  of  mystei-y,  ami  liis  finger  to  his  lip  to  i  n/oin 
silence,  invites  him  to  descend.  The  soldier  does  so.  Florian,  tn/.-inii  him 
by  the  arm,  proceeds  to  hatch  out  a  conspiracy  irith.  him.  Florian  /mints 
o/f'L.)  Do  you  see  there,  in  the  distance,  a  red  object?  That  is 
Captain  Rodomont,  a  French  officer.  (He  shows  the  German  soldier 
that  the  Captain  wears  a  cap.  a  sn.'orel,  and  mustachios,)  His  men  are 
near  him.  (Florian  shoulders  a  gun,  and  counts  ten  or  a  dozen  on  his 
fingers.)  We  will  not  attacU  him  now.  (The  German ioldier,  n-illi 


vie/orous  sheikc  of  his  head,  shows  that  he  is  quite  of  the  same  opim-*-!.) 
We  will  go  obtain  re-enforcements  (Florian  points  behind  the  wall, 
and  counts  on  his  fingers  so  fast  that  one  can  hardly  follow  him),  a  whole 
regiment  (the  German  soldier  nods  assent),  and  \ve  will  return  and 
rapture  the  Captain. 

[Florian  shows  how  they  n'ill  go  anel  return  ;  he  thtn  mimics  the 
action  of  one  who  points  a  pistol,  and  says,  "  Surrender!"  The 
soldier  claps  him  on  the  back,  and  assures  him  of  his  hearty  co- 
operation. They  run  to  the  wall.  Florian  helps  the  soldier  to 
ascend,  and  the  soldier  pulls  him  up  after  him.  Thus  they  ilix- 
appear. 

EIGHTH    SCENE. 
CAPTAIN  RODOMONT,  MADEMOISELLE,  THE  FUENOII  TIN  SOLDIERS. 

Captain  Rodomont  and  Mademoiselle,  re-enter  through  the  grove. 
The  Captain  hurries  forward,  looking  earnestly  toward  the  left, 
as  if  expecting  an  important,  arrival  from  that  quarter.  Sure 
enough,  the  French  tin  soldiers  are  seen  returning.  They 
deploy  into  line  across  the  stage,  and  the  Sergeant  steps  for- 
ward and  salutes. 

THE  SERGEANT.  Captain,  we  sought  the  enemy  (he  points  to  the 
left),  but  did  not  find  him.  (A  sweeping  gesture  of  negation  makes  it 
positively  clear  that  there  was  no  enemy  to  be  found.)  We  made  thor- 
ough search  (the  Sergeant  with  hi*  hand  over  his  eyes  mimics  a  man 
j>i  ei'niq  about);  we  challenged  him  (by  shouting  di  fiance,  so  the  Sergeant 
ej-/i/iiiiis);  we  even  insulted  him  (the  Sergeant  explains  by  making  ges- 
tures that  show  his  contempt) — did  we  not,  my  brave  boys?  (the  tin  sol- 
ilii  rs  simultaneously  corroborate  the  Sergeant  with  the  same  gesture) — 
but  all  to  no  purpose.  (Again  he  shakes  his  head.)  In  fact,  Captain, 
the  enemy  has  run  away. 

[The  Sergeant  points  to  the  left,  and  imitates  a  man  running  away. 

Tin  n  he  recovers  anel  salutes. 
RODOMONT.  Very  good.     To  your  quarters. 

[The  Sergeant  salutes,  wheels, gives  the  word.  The  tin  soldiers  make 
ei  half  turn,  and  march  out  R.  in  single  file. 

NINTH    SCENE. 

RuhOMONT.  MAHK.MOI6EI.LK;   LATER.  FI.ORIAN,  THE  GERMAN  TIN  SOLDIERS,  AND 

TINA. 

RODOMONT.  Brave  fellows! 

[lie  points  offer  his  soldiers  with  signs  of  approbation. 
MA  DEMOISELLE.  They  are  indeed. 

[She  nods  an  enthusiastic  assent. 
RODOMONT  (gallantly).  Say  that  you  admire  a  soldier. 

[He  lays  his  hand  on  his  breetst. 
MADEMOISELLE.    Ah,  Captain!  [She  drops  her  eyes  and  sini/m 

RODOMONT.  My  uniform  is  not  displeasing  to  you? 

[He  e.rhilits  it. 

MADEMOISELLE  (clasping  her  /ninth).   I  dote  upon  it. 

RODOMONT.  You  are  not  terrified  by  the  dangers  of  a  mili- 
tary life? 

[To  make  this  important  qfte.it inn  plain  t<i  her  In  first  rattles  ei  drum, 
and  then  blows  a  trumpet  ;  then  he  draws  his  sword,  and  lays 
about  him  among  imaginary  foes  ;  next  he  fires  a  gun,  and  nm 
tates  the  bursting  of  a  shell — boom!  And  after  each  actii-n  lie 
deirts  fiery  and  questioning  glances  at  her. 

MADEMOISELLE.  Terrified?  On  the  contrary,  I  am  stimulated 
— inspired. 

[She  takes  the  Captain's  hand  in  her  lift  hand,  and  with  her  right, 
strikes  her  breast,  as  if  to  show  with  irhat  patriotic  sentiments 
her  heart  is  responding,  anel  she  points  upward  toward  an  imagi- 
nary fiag.xt,  iff. 
While  she  has  been  making  these  professions  of  enthusiasm  and 

undaunted   courage,  however,  the  enemy  has  ambushed  the 

unfortunate  pair  of  dolls.      Over  the  wall  and  without  the 

least  noise  slips  first  Marian,  wearing  a  German  officer's  fatigue 

overcoat  and  helmet,  and  after  him  eight  tin  German  soldiers, 

who,  as  they  reach  the  ground,  form 

in  line  across  the  stage.    And  it  thus 

results  that  Maelemoiselle  and  Captain 

Rodomont  are  interrupted.      Hm-im, 

steps  forward,  salutes,  and  informs 

the  unfortunate  pair  that  they  are 

his  prisoners. 

FLORIAN.  Surrender! 
At  this  the  Captain,  furious  with  rage, 

is  about  to  rush  on  Florian,  who  does 

not   wear   a  sword,  but   he    is    re-       "• — _  ^J(  ; 

strained  by  two  circumstances.  First 

of  all  the  haughty  Mademoiselle  incon- 
tinently faints  in  his  arms,  and,  sec- 
ondly, Flnrian  points  calmly  at  his 

company.      The   little   tin    soldiers 

make  a  step  forward  in   line,  as  if 

about   to  seize  the  Captain  and  his 

unconscious  burden.      Just  as  they 

do  so,  however,  Tina  rushes  in  from 

the  pasture  through  the  grove, and  at 

a  glance  comprehends  the  situation.         MADEMOISELLE  HIDES. 


100 


HARPER'S   YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME    XVI. 


CAPTAIX    RiiIiuMOXT   AND    HIS    MEN. 


TINA.  Capture 
him?  Never! 

[She  p'tnsis  just 
lonij  eii'ioah  to 
reifister  (his  roie, 
and  llo  n,  riish- 
ini;  upon  th.e 
tittle  fin  sol- 
i/o  rs,  ifii'es  the 

nml  the  whole 
rank  topples 

oeer,  just  as  I it- 
tb  tin  sobliers  do 
ir/nn  I/on  /i/ni/ 
withthem.  And 
OS  thill  lie  tin  re 

heaped  upon 
each  olher,  the 
French  soldiers 
Tina  has  sai-eel  Captain 


run   in  n/nl  jiin  them    to  the   around 

Rodomont. 

Fr.ORiAN.   What's  this?  [lie  stares  with  all  his  eyes. 

M  uiKMoISELLE  (rerorerinii  In  r  senses).    Arc  we  saved? 

|  S/o  filni'i s  one  hnnil  i  mpii  eimjl  i/  on  Rodomonl's  shoulder,  and  looks 

leiliilil  obont  In  r. 

RODOMONT.  Too  late. 

[He  pills  her  disthlinfnllil  hut  not  rinblil  /'rom  him 

MADEMOISELLE.   Rodomont! 

RODOMONT  (n'ith  n  contemptuous  glance),  What!  you  love  a  sol- 
dier's lite?  This  is  the  woman  who  saved  me. 

[He  e.rti  nils  his  hninl  to  Tina,  ii'bo  eonos  forn-oril  modestly,  "nil  ii'ilh 

becoming  timidity  loits  In  r  homl  in  his. 
MADKMOISELLE.  Impossible! 
FLOKIAN.  She  leaves  me? 

ACT   II. 

The  scene  is  set  to  represent  a  doll's  house 
furnished  with  much  magnilieence.  A 
door  C. 

FIRST  SCENE. 

HAGAR  ANII  CIIHYHANTIIKMUM,  TIIK.N  ROPDMONT 
AND  TINA. 

llae/or and  Chrysanthemum,  onea  ncgrcss.tlie 

other  a  Japanese    maid,  are   discovered 

fas. i  a-leep.      /fniriir  is  stretched  out  in  an 

absurd  attitude  in  a  chair,  while  Cliriisnn- 

themnm  is  ffracefully  coiled   up  on   a  di- 
van.    A  loud  knocking  is  heard  without. 

I/ni/iir  opens  her  eyes,  listens,  then  crosses 

to  ('hri/snntlieniiiin,  and  wakes  her. 

HAGAR.   Some  one  is  at  the  door. 

[She  points  to  it. 

CHRYSANTHEMUM.    Answer  it  yourself, 
then. 

[Slie  snreeys  Hagar  scornfully,  then  points  firs/  at  In  r  ami  111  ft  ol 
the  door.  Then  she  curls  hers,!/'  up  m/nin  ami  '/'"*  /"  sl"f>. 
Hagar  xhrin/x  her  xhonbbrs,  ami  nlnrns  In  lor  ehnir.  The 

knorkimi  ri'/onb/es  in  riolenee  Clll'ySanl  llelllUm  rises,  rrossi  x 
to  I  [:|  M'ar,  irnkis  lii  r.ilinl  points  to  llo  door.  Tin  soon  eonni/l/ 

as  before  is  enacted.  The  knocking  noie  be'comcx  olormimi  in  its 
violence.  Presently  il  nosis,  nnd  a  ffigivilic  footmem  throies 
,I/H  n  the  door,  oml  Rodomont  ami  Tina  i  nt,  r.  Tina  is  s/ill 
dnssiil  ox  in  Hiefirxi  net.  Ilagar  and  Chrysanthemum  bow  to 
Rodomont. 

RODOMONT.  Ilagar  and  Chrysanthemum,  this  is  your  new  mis- 
tress. i;,i\v  to  her.  (The;/  boie.  If,  /urns  to  Tina.)'  This  is  your 
home.  All  here  is  yours.  [\Vith  o  snpirb  ij,s'nre  In  plaees  every- 

thiiof  nt  her  disposal . 

iBHl  'I'iNA.  Oh,  how  beautiful!  I 

dream! 

[She  elasps  her  hands  in  i/reaf 

ecstasy. 

RODOMONT   (proudly).    You 
observe   that  we  possess  a  ta- 
ble— chairs — curtains    on   the 
\\  mdows — and  a  bureau. 
[He  designates  these  objects  in 

succession. 

TINA.  Enchanting! 
RODOMONT.    Hagar!  Chrys- 
amhemum!      (They   approach.) 
Bring  your  mistress  her  new 
robes. 

[Ilagar     mid     Chrysanthe- 
mum rim  to  the  bin-ran,  and 
from    tin     ilrn/i'i  rs   toke  on/ 
iloril'inix  dolls    i/rissex,  lehirh 
FLORIAM    ATTEMPTS   A   SALUTE.  '/".«  dis/,/,,1,  bifnr,    Tina. 


TINA.  How  lovely! 
how  exquisite!  I  .\"«'- 

n roll >l  s/o  i/oex  into  rapt- 
tire's  In  fore  llo  in.  She 
i-lnxjix  lor  hands  fol/eth- 

er,  feels  the  stuffs,  si  i-"!,,  \ 
tin  dresses,  and  m/mirix 
/hem)  Howcan  lever 
thank  you  enough? 

[She  nm/.'i.x  a  gesture 
of  gratitude  and 
recognition. 

RODOMONT.  Which 
will  you  wear? 

TINA.  How  can  I 
make  up  mv  mind? 
This— or  tin's?  This 
is  more  elegant,  but 
this  seems  to  suit  me 
better.  Which  do  you 
prefer? 

[The  attitudes  /oi 


'  IliinojJit  i^    Hindi    nitoiifixt 


THE   CAPTAIN    SALUTES    MADEMOISELLE. 


t/iis  train 

readily  snatfest  thenis'lns. 
RODOMONT  (nrotifinl,  but  rfmembering  theit  a  soldier  tnirsf  not  exhibit 
a  too  crito'ol  acquaintance  n-ilb  n/i/finiri/).   How  can  I  decide?     It  is 
enough  for  me  if  you  are  arrayed  as  befits  your  beauty. 
TINA.  Go,  then,  and  I  will  make  a  choice. 

[*S7/f  acguaintS  him  teit/i  her  purpose  thus:  she  shnkes  her  flnc/er  fit 
him  in  am/  lenrniinf  :  thin  li-ith  both  hoiols  sin  dinii-s  his  atten- 
tion first  to  herself  nnd  then  to  the  dresses;  then  she  smilingly 
points  him  to  the  deior.  He  boil'.s,  oml  more/us  out,  head  i  reel. 

SECOND    SCENE. 

TINA,  HAGAU,  ANT>   CHRYSANTHEMUM. 

TINA  (to  th,  moids — n  nj  impi  rionslii — lor  manner  betrays  the  deiiijht 
she  f,e:s  in  commanding  for  the  first  time). 
Bring  the  dresses  here.  Hold  them  up  to 
the  light.  Good!  Hagar,  lift  your  arm 
higher.  Which  shall  1  take?  Impossible 
to  decide!  Chrysanthemum,  come  closer. 
Y'es,  that  muslin;  ah!  exquisite!  I  will 

Choose  this!       No(*A.    turns  ar/aili);    how   can 

I  leave  the  other?  Why  not  wear  them 
both?  (Anil  she  fail-hen  the  skirts  of  both  ilressis 
a1)  id  clasps  them,  enraptured,  to  her  bosom.)  AA  ell 
(ii-it/i  a  xiah).  if  I  must  choose,  choose  I 
must.  (  With  her  r'n/ht  hnnil  she  drnirs  tin 
deis-,  ir-hirh  Hagar  holds  iloser  to  her,  while  with 
her  left  she  thrnats  the  olio  r  loimnl  Chrysan- 
themum to  be  borne  ait-ar/.  The  little  Jopnn 
is*  boslili/  bears  aiea/i  the  rejected  dress,  nnd 
f'tin'iisof  one,,  llaiiar  e<irifnllii  spreads  the 
'dress  tehieh  Tina  has  ehosell  over  a  ehnir. 

Tina  rlnps  her  bunds. )     Quickly,  now! 

[At  this  the  maids  busy  themselves  to 
assist  her  to  riinore  her  dress,  and 
I/on  bihobl  lor  in  her  little  comitrn  i/ir/'x  smoct.  n'ith  her  sair- 
dlt-St-stnff'id  arms  oml  lefts  stitched  at  lln  ,/bo/fx  and  knees.  In  a 

r,  >  n  /',"•  moonlit^  the  itew  dress  is  substituted  for  the  old,  a  bine 
sash  is  tied  about  Tina's  waist,  and  her  i-m-li/  blond  hair  is 
odor md  n'ith  n  b/ne  rib/ion.  A  gold  chain  is  ihrolt'li  obont  her 
neck,  and  ox  for  lot-  lilil,  ft,  Ilagar  nml  Chrysanthemum 

fit  them  ifl/h  on  i/ii/nnt  pair  of  red  k/d  shoes.  Se-nreelil  hnei 
fb<  ii  arm  if"  I  tin  i  r  mist  n  ss,  irlo  n  o  loud  knock  on  the  door  is  hi  n  i  d. 
Ilagar  and  Chrysanthemum  rush  irilh  frantic  haste  to  arrange 
the  room  and  lot/  Tina's  old  driss  oieoii  in  the  bureau.  Tins, 
thimjs  done,  thei/  throw  open  lln  door. 

THIRD   SCENE. 

Tnn  PR|.:OF.T>ING,  RODO.MONT,  GUKBTB,  AND 
MADKMOIBKLI.B. 

Rodomont  brings  in   his  guests   to    be  pre- 
sented  to   7i»«.  and  the  customary  cere- 
mony  of  introduction  is  gone  through 
with.    Last  of  nil  comes  Mademoiselle,  who 
enters    the    room    with   a   haughty   air. 
Rodomont  starts  on  recognizing  Tier. 
RODOMONT.  You  here? 
MADEMOISELLE.    And    pray   why    not? 
Introduce  me,  if  you  please,  to  your  future 
bride 

[Rodomonl  complies,  and  the  introduction 
is  p,r f'n-m"/  n-ilb    i/ nat    stateliinxs,  the 
fieo  ladies  roitrtesiiing  profoundly  to  no-// 
*        other. 

TINA.  Mademoiselle,  I  make  you  wel- 
come. 

MADEMOISELLE.  I  thank  you.  And  I, 
in  order  to  exhibit  my  esteem  for  you, 
have  brought  you  a  little  gift. 


FLORIAN-S  DISCOVERY. 


DECEMBER  11,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


101 


ARRIVAL    OF    THE    GERMANS. 


[She    shotcs  bit    signs  llml   tin  r,    is 

Something    n-it/nml   n-lin-h  she   ,li  - 

signs  for  Tina.  She  claps  her 
hands  am/  /he  dour  swings  open, 
allowing  the  gigantic  footnmn 
to  enter,  llnrmr'  under  his  arm 
he  carries  a  white  sheep,  tin  ,m- 

blem  of  Tina's  pneinns    ein/i/nl/- 

rm  nt  as  a  sheep-girl.  Tlie  foot- 
man advances  with  pompous 
steps,  and  brings  his  burden  In 
Tina  s  riry  feet,  where  he  depos- 
its it.  Then  he  makes  a  pro- 
found bin,-  ami  nmrehes  out 
again. 

TINA.   My  sheep! 
[  ,^he  staggers  back,  half  faintimf. 
ALL.  Her  sheep? 
[They    express     enrinsitu,    concern, 
and  astonishment   bit  their  rm-i- 
ous  attitudes. 

MADEMOISELLE.      She     was     a 
sheep-girl! 

|  She    /minis   dramatically   at  Tina. 
ii-ho     i  ones    Inr   faee    n-ith    her 
hands,  and   turns   await  in    dis- 
/ n  ^' 
ALL.   Aliominable! 

[Ktliibitinfi  marks  of  aversion  and  severe  disappointment,  then  make 
formal  reren  m-e.s.  and  one  elfter  anol/nr  lake  t/nir  siei  r,ii  leaves. 

MADEMOISELLE.   I  am  revenged! 
[She    departs    last   of   a/1.  leni-imi 
Rodomont.  Tina,  ami  ih,  si,,,/, 
aloin  together,       T/n  t/i-n  maids 

hat'e  disa/i/ii  neid  snn/e  time  sinei  . 

FOURTH   SCENE. 
RODOMONT,  TINA. 

TINA     (to     Captain     Rodomonl). 
Leave  me! 

RODOMONT.  Never! 
TINA     I  am  unworthy  of  you. 
[She  demonstrates  this  Inj  /minting 
at  the  shee/i  ami  then  at  hil'se/f, 
and  shaking  her  hmd  .sadly. 

RODOMONT  (nobly).  Trust  in  me! 
(He  strikes  his  jacket  with  one  hand  eind 
with  the  other  points  upward.)  But 
now.  without  more  delay,  our  mar- 
riage, (l/e  points  to  the  dnnr,  ami  indie, it, s  that  he 
with  a  person  lefm  shall  n-ear  ei  shore/ -  hat  and  a  long  gown,  and 
shall  extend  his  hands  in,  blessing.  He  also  imitalis  the  process  of  placing 
the  ring  upon  Tina's  .tingcr.  I  Adieu.  Wait  for  me  here. 

[He  signs  that  she  is  to  remain  n-ln  n    she  is  and  irai/   fur  him,  and 
hastens  eiiray  to  fulfil  his  /tromise. 

FIFTH  SCENE. 

TlNA,   ALONK;    AFTERU'ARIIS    Fl.oKIAN,  IJISGUISBP. 

TlNA.    How  noble  lie  is!     (She  raises  her  eyes  and  elas/is  her  hands: 

then.  drOjtS  her  eyes  m/ain .  ami  /its  her  hamls  fall,  still  e/as/i,d,  In  fnr,  In  r  \ 
But  what  shall  I  do?  (N/ic  starts,  jmssis  In  r  hand  to  her  f  on  head,  ami 
looks  ii'ildly  about  Inr.)  That  sheep!  (She  points  to  it.)  What  an 
insult!  (She  clinches  her  hand.  ,lrnn-s  Inr  lir,aih  l,,fir-,,  n  her  teeth,  and 
seems  overwhelmed  by  the  treatannl  sin  has  ri,;ie,,l .)  Yet  shall  I  lose 
heart  ?  (Site  collects  herself.)  Never!  Why  should  I  despair? 
(She  shoics  n-m  in, I  animation  )  All  this  magniticence  (she surveys  the 
room  and  its  furniture,  ami  leures  her  hand  to  taki  it  all  in)  is  for  me! 
(.S'/IF  tups  her  breast  proudly. }  How  happy  I  should  be!  (Sin-  makes 

a  little  gesture  n-ith  Inr 
right  hand.)  Audi  am. 
Sfte  smiles  (gayly.)  At 
last  I  possess  tlie 
luxury  and  ease  for 
which  I  longed.  (She 

li'il/ks  11(1  ami  down, 
In  r  /mml  on  her  hi/>.  hi  r 
In, nl  thronm  baek,  ami  a 

Cml  smile  ei/re/ng  her 
.)  And  as  for 
Mademoiselle,  let  her 
envy  me.  I  do  not 
fear  her  scorn,  peasant 
though  1  am.  (ri/te 
proves  the  truth  of  these 
s/iiritid  i;  marks  by 
snnrnim/  ifn  ,1/ni/l  lei/ll 
Inr  font  and  assnmiinf  a 
RODOMONT-S  GRATITUDE.  dcjiuilt  altitude.  As  she 


TINA    IS    DRESSED. 


\ 


,ln,  s  so  /lie  dnnr  ,:/„  ns 

etnel  Florian  "/'/"  'f>'^- 
still  wearing  the 

linnj    rnnf    ,:{'     n      {,',,- 

man  tin  soldier. 
Tina  hiars  /he  door 
open,  and  tarnimj. 
sees  this  I,  i  rible  ap- 
parilion.)  Ah! 

FLORIAN  (coming 
ilnn -a  ii-if/i  measured 
and  threatening  step). 
So,  madam,  I  find 
you  alone. 

[He  points    his   fln- 
il,  r    at     In  r.  anil 

fin  n  emssing  his 
arms,  stands  be- 
fore her,  mute 
and  terrible. 

TlNA  (in  great  alarm).    What  do  you  wish? 
FLORIAN  (with  an-fn/ im/ilmsis).   Listen!   You  east  down  to  earth 
an  entire  rank  of  my  soldiers  (In  imitalis  tin-  action  by  n-hie/i  Tina  ac- 
complished //us  tn, irtml  feat),  who  lie  still  where  they  fell,  dead  as 

door-matS.       (  \Vith  histtco    hands  In    nnasuris  nut    tin    li  ngth   of  It  fallen 

so/diir,  ami  n/u-als  the  action  sen-nil  linns  In  demonstrate  how  his  unfor- 
tunate comrades  lay  one  on  top  of  the  other.  Tin  n  In  continues,  aside.) 
Which  doesn't  worry  me  a  little  bit.  (lie  winks  orer  his  slnmlihr  at 
the  audience,  and  shrugs  his  shoulders.  Then  to  Tina.)  I  have  come 
for  revenge. 

[lie    calehes    hold  of   her  hamls,  and 

rnelkfS   as   if  tn   ilnni   Inr   ail-ail  n-ilh 

III  III. 

TINA.  Never! 

[Kin  struggle*,  one  up,  one  down,  and 

final/I/  flings  him    off.        Then    s/ie 

is  about  to  rush  for  the  door,  when 

he  stn/is  her. 

FLORIAN  (laughing).  Tina,  do  you 
not  know  me? 

[lie  tiars  off  his  cap  and   inastaehios 

and  Hi  rows  open  his  overcoat. 
TINA.   Florian! 
FI.ORIAN.  Yes,  Florian. 
[His  demeanor  l»,-nn«s  grave,and  he 

looks  re/n-nn,  I, /'<///  "/  her. 

TINA.   You  must  go;  you  are  in 
danger. 

[She  iustinefieely    urges   him  to  flee, 

ami  /mints  in  tin  door. 

FLOKI.VN  (shrugging  his  slnmldi rs).    Let  me    take  care  of  that. 
( With  lofty  sailm-ss.)  What  are  you  doing  here.  Tina,  in  that  dress  '! 
TlSfi.  (endeavoring  to  seem  unconcerned).  That   is  my  affair.     (She 
waves  her  hand  airily.)     All  this  is  soon  to  be  mine. 

[She  points  here  and  tin  re,  and  then  taps  Inr  breast  significantly. 
FLORIAN.  You  are  going  to  marry  Rodomont? 

[  With  rapid  touches  he  designs  Rodomont's  cn/i.  his  mnstaehios,  and 

his  sword:  ami  thin  makes  a  motion  of  putting  on  a  ring. 
TlNA  (trying  to  avoid  fiis  eye).    Yes. 
FLORIAN  (indignantly).  Because  he  has  money? 

[He puts  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  and  counts  out  imaginary  coin. 
TlNA.    Yes.  [She  hangs  her  head. 

FLORIAN.  Good  by,  Tina.  [He goes  toward  the  door. 

TINA.  Florian! 

FLORIAN.  I  cannot  slay.    Good-by. 

TINA  (besiichiiiglyt.  Florian!    (She 'lays  bold  of  I,  is  m-,  renal  and  drags 
him  buck.)     Let  us  be 
friends.  Forgive  me. 
[S/n  Innks  n/ipealing- 

ly  into  his  face. 
FLOKIAN.    Impos- 
sible. 

TlNA  (she  Inns,  ns  In  r 

hold  of  his  overcoat,  '/n 

III  It' f      In       />/,,!,/       il'if/i 

him).  All.  Florian  — 
I  was  so  hungry — so 
cold  —  so  unhappy 
(bit  appropriate  gistie- 
ii/.ilinns  she  reminds 
him  lion-  serious  a  mat- 
/,  r  it  teas')  —  and  so 
poor.  See!  (.S/n  runs 
to  tin  line, an  ilraieer, 
/mils  nut  In  r  old  dnss. 
and  hn/ds  if  n/i  i,,s,,l, 
the  l/nniniti'  '  ill  enst inn, 

she  mm-   wears. }     Can 

you  blame  me,1  «IIM  IMVORTIIY  01 


PRESENTS  HAGAR  AND  CHRYSANTHI  MIM. 
n-ill    r,t><>  n 


102 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


MUSIC     FOR     THE     PANTOMIME. 


*  Entrance  of  Florlan. 


[.  - 


N=^£ 


&  ~*  - .« *ts= — i 


=f  ~  -,  __  _r     ^r     r 

-•      T-3  •          •  •  •  J  • 


,  inn  1:1-.'-. 

~r   r   If   .1   r     i    \^^A^^^^^^ 

.Jjju 


No-  3-,^  Jtoaerale 

&± 


^ 


TTP 


UEl/K.MBEU  11,  1S9-1. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


103 


ff  Defeat  or  tlio  tin  aoMiers'  also  for  Curtain. 


•  -  -  •  - 1  - 


re  Toilet  of  Tina 


1  &-; 


fe£,  i  .  f  fr-ir  f  f    ir  f  i_j  f  f    it  f  f  if  f  f    rf-*  ^  if'  r    rnfir  • 


Jff^f 


•j — I  I  *  WT^' 


j  r  r  ^i  jsg?^ 


,r  i  T 


^^ 


^i 


Entrance  of  Rodomont  ami.  Catastrophe.         Slower 


ff  Happy  C 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  xvr. 


FLORIAN  (»<«////).  No. 

[He  /MXXIX  /i i a  /nun/  nrmsx  his  ''/ex,  wavea  K  farewell  to  her,  and 

/nettx  I"  '/<>. 

TVHA.  (in  agitation).    .Musi  you  Mill   go?     (She  again  detains  him.) 
Can  von  notstay  hen-  with  in.-'.'     (£/«  drops  her  dress,  and  running 

!  leM  II"  table,  and  «/, s  Florian  //»('  '/«•<•<'  »•'»  '" 

his  plact   /'i  eat  and  drink.     Next,  hastening  to  th,   divan,  sfu   i 
herself  out   for.  a   moment  as  if  in  slumber,  and  then,  rising,  apprises 
Klorian  t /„',/  hen  wi '  In  his  bed  i    \Yc  will  lodge  you,  and  you  shall 
In-  mil-  brother.      I'li-asc.  Fluriiin. 


TINA  (ilisii-neteilli/).  Oh,  bow  can  I  let  you  go? 

[She  nini-ix  "  dramatic  gesture. 

FLORIAN  (returning).  Do  not  let  mi-  go.  (  HV/A  ».  t>i</w:»ix  sweep 
„/•//«  arm  /.'  &ras/«ss  <'"''«//  <i/Y  ,*,-/,/<•/<•.•>•  /»  M<-/V  reunion.)  Come  with 
mi-  (//f  </--.<.vs  '"'•  *?'""•  «'•»'-)  Off  with  this  finery,  and  don 
your  old  brown  dress  again.  (II,-  nnik,s  UK  if  f»  l«,r  the  fin  new 
dress  from  her  shoulders,  and  catJiinff  up  thi  old  dress,  thrusts  it  into  her 
oiW)  And  then  we  will  lly  far  from  here,  back  to  the  dear  old. 
I  a  nn  [ffi •  pfiintx  energetically  toward  the  door. 

Tina,  caught  by  his  enthusiasm,  hesitates,  almost  ready  to  give 


FLORIAN    DISCLOSES   HIMSELF. 

up  all  and  tly  with  him.  Then,  just  at  this  exciting  moment, 
the  door  is  thing  open,  and  Rodomont  appears.  Behind  him  is 
seen  a  large  company. 

sl\TII    Sl'KXE. 
Tare  PRF.OKDINO,  KOMOMONT,  M  \i>i  \i"i>i  I.T.I:.  II  \<;\r.  AM>  < 'mnsANTin  .Mr.M.  AM> 

GUKSTS,  IM'l  I    1.1    .,.      \     I  'I.KI'.GV.MAN. 

RODOMONT.   Treachery ! 

[If,  ilntii's  his  sword  am]  rnx/n-x  at  Floriau. 
TINA.  Spare  him! 

[S/ie  Ilii-iiirs  nsi.l,  /If  liri'ii'ii  i  In  xx,  nml  flimjx  hers:  If  iii  front  o/Flo- 
rian;  ntnl  Rodomont  making  a  fierce  Imn/e  a/  llmt  m-i/  mo- 
ment, t/l'  <''•>/>/  Xll-ni'll  ,,,('!•*  ]n  I'  *"h  ,  I'll'/  X/ll  f'll//X,  //If  X'f"''/"xf 

gnsh'nnf  "nt  nil  neer  tin  xtin/i.     tjinern/  consternation. 
FI.OIUAN.  Alas,  they  have  killed  her! 

[/A  lunik  ni.'ei-  /it/-  in  despair. 
RnnoMoxH'.    Good  Heaven! 

1 11'  *lnrh  l><n-L,  <i<i/i>i*t  nt  I'-hnt  />''  /i>i\  il'_ni'\  innl  dropping  hi*  sword, 

<•/.'.*/'*  ^"N  h'ln'i  in  /I,**    f'lll-' /!"!'/. 

TIN  \.    Help  me. 

>n<  "in  nrm,  and.makes  n  ffhli  ,ffu,-tt"  rise. 


THE   TRAGEDY. 


FuMtlAX.   Tina  !       [He  lifts  her  tn  lu-i-f,,/,  /hi  xmnlust  still  spill'my. 
TINA.  Good  gracious!  only  look  at  me!     (She  daps  her  hand  to 
her  side  in  the  endeavor  to  stanch  the  flow  of  sum/im/.      'f/n  it  xlu'  h,  thinks 
Iterof/ui-iiniiil.i.)     Hagar!  Ohrysanthemuin!  c-ome  and  sew  me  up! 
'[She  lieckoim  In  them,  ««'!  indicates  tlmt  ///.//  -//v  /•<  xtitrh  the  Raping 
edges  of  the  wo>unl  l-ylln  r.      Tinii  ,,jijn;ui,-/i  to  Jill  this  mercifnl 
(onl  surffieal  office. 
FI.OIUAN.   Wail!  wait! 

[He  holds  up  his  ham/  to  slnii  I  In  in.  n  ml  /Inn,  dropping  on  his  knees, 
scrapes  together  tin  x<n/',l>i*/  that  Tina  /ins  dropped.  IHxiinj,  he 
i/i-iii'i/,/  /niiii-s  it  liin-k  int':  i/n  irninnl.  Hagar  nml  Chrysanthe- 
mum then  prepare  tlnir  nenllex  tunl  perform  the  "jn  ml  inn. 
\\'lnn  it  is  nrer,  Tina  tries  to  walk. 
TINA.  Heavens!  I  am  a  cripple! 

[In    fact,   s/i,-   Haifa   in,*!  flnu-kiiigly;    the  s,'nl:    <>n   n-li'n-li  die  u-iis 

II': l/nn leil  i/il-ix   li'n  I/  I'nnl/i/t/ely. 

FLORIAN.  I  will  support  you.  [He  jmxses  his  arm  ulmni  Inr. 

RODOMONT  (starting  forward).  Who  are  you? 
FLORIAN  (nlensiny  Tina,  lie  thi-mex  nf  his  m;  i-eont).  Florian.' 
MADEMOISELLE  (comprehending  everything).   Ah! 
TINA  (takes  Florian's  /nun/).   And  I  return  to  him  and  my  sheep. 
[She  eiitehe.i  up  the  s/ne/i,  irhieh  she  /iuli/x  ninler  her  arm,  <nnl  x/tll 
holding  Florian's  hum/,  nnilcis  n  fiintt  neii-inee  as  the  curtain 
fit/Is.  ' 

CURTAIN. 


TINA    AND   FLORIAN    ARE    I'MIII'. 


THE  children  who  act  this  little  pantomime  must  be  carefully 
instructed  that  they  are  not  to  speak  the  words  of  their  parts, 
but  to  act  them ;  and  during  rehearsals  they  must  be  trained  to 
use  tin-  same  gestures  and  the  same  number  of  gestures  every 
time.  A  clever  elder  sister  or  aunt  will  be  able  to  show  them 
how  to  pass  from  one  gesture  to  another,  and  how  to  maintain 
the  necessary  air  of  attention;  nor  will  this  be  difficult  for  chil- 
dren to  learn,  since  pantomime  is  a  natural  function,  whose  use 
we  overlook  simply  because  we  are  able  to  speak. 

As  tin-  mutes  of  pantomime  communicate  with  each  other  only 
bv  iresturc.  when  two  characters  are  in  converse  they  must  watch 
each  iither'.s  aetions  closely.  A  conversation  is  opened,  as  a  gen- 
eral rule,  by  clapping  the  hands  quickly  and  pointing.  The  char- 
acters in  liie  present  pantomime  being  dolls,  the  action  must  be 
stiff  and  jerky,  and  in  general  a  character  who  is  not  actually  in 
action  at  the  moment  should  remain  wooden  and  motionless. 
though  observant.  But  of  course,  wherever  emotions  are  called 
forth  by  the  events  of  the  drama  as  they  pass,  they  should  be  rep- 
resented by  sudden  and  spasmodic  gestures. 


The  music  is  to  follow  the  action,  and  the  themes  provided  au- 
to be  played  during  the  entire  piece,  each  theme  being  repeated 
over  and  over  until  the  scenes  for  which  it  is  designed  are  ended. 
The  arrangement  of  the  themes  is  as  follows:  Theme  No.  1:  the 
Prologue.  No.  2:  Scene  1.  No.  8:  Scenes  i  and  :i  No.  4: 
Scenes  4  to  6.  No.  5:  Scenes  7  to  9.  No.  0:  Scene  1,  Act  II. 
No.  7:  Scenes  2  and  3.  No.  8:  Scene  4.  No.  9:  Scenes  5  and  6. 
The  signs  **  indicate  the  themes  for  repetition. 

While  the  success  of  the  pantomime  will  depend  largely  upon 
the  completeness  of  the  stage  properties  for  the  first  act.  these 
may  be  made  at  home  with  a  tool-box,  a  glue-pot,  a  little  canvas, 
paint  and  lumber,  and  the  ingenuity  in  which  no  American  fam- 
ily is  lacking. 

It  is  indispensable  that  Tina's  arms  and  legs  should  be  covered 
with  linen,  in  imitation  of  a  doll's.  The  sawdust  for  her  wound 
in  Act  II.  may  be  concealed  beneath  the  dress  which  she  puts  on 
in  that  act.  or  in  her  sash.  It  should  be  put  in  a  linen  bag  whose 
mouth  is  confined  by  a  strinir,  which  Tim  must  break  when  she 
claps  her  hand  to  her  wound. 


A    CHRISTMAS     CRANK. 


BY    AGNES    CARR    SAGE. 


VLBEMARLE  PLACE  is  one  of  those  short  streets 
which  have  seen  "better  days,"  its  name  being  a 
last  remnant  of  decayed  aristocracy,  and  in  this  it  re- 
sembled Mrs.  Dabney  Blossom,  the  Southern  widow  who 
could  recall  halcyon  days  "before  the  war,"  but  had 
stumbled  upon  such  exceedingly  evil  ones  in  the  lodging- 
house  on  the  corner,  that  she  was  almost  ashamed  of  the 
joy  that  filled  her  being  when,  after  months  of  ruinous 
vacancy,  her  second  floor  front  was  taken  in  November 
by  a  "seafaring  gentleman,"  who,  as  she  said,  "If  he 
was  right  curisome  in  his  ways,  paid  in  advance,  and 
gave  no  more  trouble  than  the  black  kitten  Dixie." 

More  than  "curisome,"  however,  did  Minchon,  the 
little  maid  of  all  work,  consider  the  red-faced,  pop-eyed 
Captain.  She  thought  him  "really  awful,"  and  shook 
in  her  rusty  old  shoes  when  he  roared  at  her,  as  though 
she  had  been  mate,  pilot,  and  crew  all  combined,  and  or- 
dered her  to  "come  and  make  up  his  bunk"  as  though 
he  was  consigning  her  to  the  stake. 

"  Guess  he  is  one  of  the  ogres  they  used  to  scare  the 
little  'uns  with  up  to  the  'Sylum,"  she  confided  to  the 
small  Robins  on  the  third  floor,  for  Minchon's  world  was 
bounded  by  a  Home  with  a  capital  H,  and  her  present 
abode,  to  which  she  had  been  brought  at  the  age  of 
twelve  to  commence  an  up-and-down-stairs,  running-of- 
errands  existence,  that  had  now  gone  on  for  three  years. 

After  that,  then,  Molly  and 
Dolly,  the  Robin,  twins,  who  sat 
many  hours  each  day  folding  and 
basting  neckties  for  their  mo- 
ther to  stitch,  always  tiptoed 
breathlessly  past  the  "Ogre's" 
door,  although  Mrs.  Robin  laugh- 
ed at  their  fears,  and  told  them 
"  they  ought  not  to  be  afraid  of  a 
sailor,  since  their  own  dear  dead 
papa  followed  the  water." 

The  neighbors,  too,  soon  came 
to  know  the  short  eccentric  figure 
as  it  rolled  up  and  down  the  little 
thoroughfare,  and  tapped  their 
foreheads  significantly  when  he 
shook  his  stick  at  the  children, 
muttering  "Get  out  of  my  way, 
you  saucy  young  dolphins,"  and 
then,  perhaps,  flung  them,  a  pen- 
ny or  a  sugar-plum  to  make  up : 
while  the  barber  across  the  street 
dubbed  him  the  "Crank,"  by 
which  name  he  was  erelong  call- 
ed throughout  the  length  and 
breadth  of  Albemarle  Place. 

One  morning,  then,  poor  Min- 
chon nearly  dropped  a  heavy 
scuttle  of  coal  and  tumbled  after 
it  herself  when,  just  as  she  was 
staggering  up  stairs, the  front  door 
flew  open  with  a  bang,  and  in 
bounced  the  dreaded  Captain. 
She  attempted  to  hurry;  but  he 
saw  her,  and  shouted  in  stentorian 
tones:  "Bless  my  tops'l !  What 
does  a  small  craft  like  you  mean 
by  straining  your  seams  in  that 
fashion?  Here,  hand  over  that 
cargo  instanter !"  And  before  she 
could  remonstrate,  he  had  seized 
the  scuttle,  and  was  off  to  the 
third  story  back,  where  he  filled 
Miss  Tuffet's  grate  so  full  that 
the  economical  soul  of  the  little 


music-teacher — who  gave  lessons  for  twenty-five  cents  an 
hour — quailed  with  horror. 

"  Well,  I  never!  Mebbe,  now,  the  man's  bark  is  worse 
than  his  bite !"  soliloquized  the  dazed  girl  on  the  stairs; 
while  early  in  December  another  incident  occurred  which 
confirmed  this  idea,  and  caused  a  complete  revulsion  in 
her  feelings. 

It  was  a  gray  lowering  afternoon  that  she  received 
permission  to  spend  an  hour  with  her  special  friend  on 
the  block,  Gretchen  Miiller,  a  young  woman  much  older 
than  herself,  but  the  fairest,  sweetest  German  mailcin'ii 
who  ever  lost  her  heart  to  a  barber,  and  this  Gretchen 
had  done  to  the  little  hair-cutter  over  the  way,  who  was 
saving  all  his  dimes  and  quarters  in  order  that  they 
might  marry  and  go  to  housekeeping  in  the  tiny  rooms 
over  the  shop. 

Quite  gayly,  then,  Minchon  stepped  forth,  carrying  the 
little  cat  Dixie  cuddled  up  in  her  arms,  but  had  scarcely 
passed  bej'ond  the  gate,  when — 

"Minuliim,  Miiifhon,  scrawny  leg! 
A  yellow  mop  on  a  wooden  peg  !" 

was  rudely  chanted  by  a  shrill  boyish  voice,  and  out 
from  behind  an  ash  barrel  sprang  an  ancient  enemy  of 
hers,  one  Digby  Smithers  by  name,  who  made  a  dive  for 
the  kitten,  caught  it  by  the  neck,  and  swung  it  around  his 
head. 


THE    LAUNCHING    OP    THE    "  KRISS    KRINGLE." 


106 


HARPEK'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


"Oh,  you  bad  wicked  boy,  give  me  back  my  pussy!" 
screamed  M  inclinii. 

But  the  little  rascal  only  danced  off  down  the  street, 
still  looping  the  miserable  cat  swinging  and  squalling 
in  the  upper  air.  "  Don't  you  wish  yon  could  get  it?"  he 
cried,  tauntingly.  "  But  you  won't;  for  he's  agoin'  to  be 
sold  to  the  Chinaman  for  his  supper.  Ah,  he'll  make 
mince-meat  of  this  little  nigger;  he'll 

"  Suck  liis  blood  and  pick  his  bones, 
Ami  biirv  his  black  fur  under  the  stones." 

At  this  dire  prophecy  Minchon's  wails  drowned  those 
of  poor  Dixie,  and  she  flew  after  Digby  like  a  small  fury, 
though  she  eon  Id  never  have  overtaken  him  had  not  a 
hand  been  sudd.-nly  laid  on  the  boy's  shoulder,  and  he 
brought  to  an  abrupt  halt.  The  7iext  thing  he  knew 
he  was  forced  to  his  knees,  and  a  stern  tone  commanded: 
"  Heave  ahoy,  my  hearty !  No  piracy  allowed  here.  So 
jest  hand  back  that  leetle  critter,  and  ask  the  young  lady's 
pardon  for  giving  her  such  a  chase." 

"I  sha'n't,"  growled  the  urchin,  kicking  and  squirm- 
ing, while  even  Minchon  smiled  at  the  idea;  but  the 
sailor's  grip  on  his  collar  was  like  a  vise,  and  he  was 
finally  obliged  to  obey,  though  sullenly  enough;  and  the 
instant  he  was  free  and  at  a  safe  distance  shook  his  fist, 
shouting,  "I'll  remember  this,  Miss  'Sylum  trash,  and 
I'll  git  square  some  time." 

"  He  will,  too,  as  sure  as  Christmas  is  a-comin',"  sighed 
the  small  maid.  "Though  I  am  mighty  grateful  to  you, 
sir." 

"So  Christmas  even  comes  to  Albemarle  Place,  does 
it?  Hey?" 

The  "  hey  "  was  so  gruff  that  Minchon  jumped.  "Well, 
sir,  not  so  much  as  it  did  to  the  Home.  There  we  allays 
had  candy  and  a  tree.  Folks  don't  do  much  Santa  Claus- 
in'  here ;  but  I  does  hope  Mrs.  Blossom  will  give  me  a  new 
pair  of  shoes" — and  she  glanced  down  at  her  old  boots, 
which  were  decidedly  out  at  the  toe  and  down  at  the 
heel. 

"Little  one,"  said  the  Captain,  presently,  "you  re- 
mind me  of  another  yellow-haired  wench,  whom  I  once 
loved  and' lost.  She  sailed  away  to  a  better  port  than 
this  many  a  long  year  ago.  I'm  a  clumsy  old  fellow, 
without  kith  or  kin  this  side  of  the  grave,  but  it  would 
make  me  happier  than  you  can  think  if  you  could  some- 
times find  time  to  pay  me  a  bit  of  a  visit  and  play  with 
the  locker  full  of  shells  just  as  Daisy  used  to  do.  They 
are  pretty  shells  from  all  over  the  world.  You  wouldn't 
care  to  come  up  to  my  galley  and  have  a  squint  at  'em 
now,  would  you?" 

And  will  you  believe  it,  his  tone  wTas  so  sad  and  wist- 
ful that,  forgetting  all  her  fears,  Minchon  actually  slipped 
her  hand  into  that  of  the  Ogre,  and  hopped  up  stairs 
two  steps  at  a  time.  While  there  she  passed  a  truly  de- 
lightful hour,  examining  such  ocean  treasures  as  she  had 
never  even  dreamed  of,  and  chattering  away  like  a  talk- 
ative young  magpie;  while,  when  she  was  summoned 
below,  Captain  Lofty  knew  all  about  Miss  Tuffet,  who 
was  trying  to  buy  a  piano  on  the  installment  plan;  and 
about  Adolph  Frank,  the  barber,  and  his  lovely  flam-re. 
who  cried  so  much  because  times  were  hard  and  the 
wedding-day  appeared  very  far  off.  He  had  also  learned 
more  regarding  naughty  Digby  Smithers,  who,  it  seems, 
had  his  trial  in  a  terribly  harsh  cruel  parent  sadly  ad- 
dicted to  the  dram-shop;  was  acquainted  with  the  diffi- 
culty the  Widow  Blossom  had  to  make  both  ends  meet; 
and  had  listened  to  the  history  of  the  poor  little  Robins 
on  the  top  Hour,  whose  father  sailed  away  one  day  in  a 
"  white-winged  vessel,"  and  must  have  gone  down  in  her, 
for  neither  ever  returned. 

"Do  you  happen  to  know  the  Christian  name  of  that 
sea  Robin  afore  he  took  up  his  quarters  in  Davy  Jones's 
locker?"  the  Captain  once  removed  his  pipe  to  inquire. 
Oh.  yes,  the  chatterbox  knew  that,  she  had  heard  the  sad- 


eyed  necktie-maker  say  it  a  dozen  times—1'  Thomas  Cof- 
fin Robin  from  Nantucket,  second  mate  of  the  tramp  ship 
(  'ri'xcrnt.'" 

"  Um-m-m !" 

The  old  salt  said  no  more;  but  that  night  he  squeezed 
himself  into  his  peajacket  and  made  his  way  down  to 
the  wharves,  where  he  interviewed  a  former  comrade 
there  "stranded  high  and  dry"  in  an  obscure  little  hos- 
pital much  frequented  by  disabled  seamen;  though  what 
he  discovered  did  not  immediately  transpire. 

To  the  amusement  of  the  household,  however,  Min- 
chon and  her  Ogre  now  struck  up  a  wondrous  friendship, 
and  Mrs.  Blossom  declared  "they  held  as  many  myste- 
rious conferences  as  though  plotting  a  conspiracy." 

Mi-anwhile  Christmas  drew  on  apace,  and  it  wanted 
but.  two  days  of  the  Feast  of  the  Star  when  Molly  and 
Dolly  Robin,  having  been  to  deliver  a  box  of  completed 
ties,  paused  in  childish  rapture  before  the  window  of  a 
fascinating  toy  store,  where  was  displayed  a  bevy  of 
porcelain  and  waxen  beauties  arrayed  in  such  gay  attire 
as  Joseph's  coat  could  scarce  have  rivalled. 

But.  it  was  upon  a  cherubic  white-robed  baby  doll  that 
wee  Dolly  fixed  her  eyes.  "Oh,  isn't  she  sweet — isn't 
she  a  darling!"  she  exclaimed.  "  And  I  choose  that  one; 
I  choose  the  dear  wax  baby  to  be  mine." 

"  But  how  can  you,"  protested  her  more  practical  sis- 
ter, "  when  you  haven't  but  three  cents  in  the  world, 
and  that  would  cost  more'n  a  hundred?" 

"Well,  I  can  make  believe,  can't  I?"  said  Dolly. 
"  That's  cheap,  and  is  all  the  fun  there  is.  Do,  Moll,  let 
us  pretend  that  Santa  Claus  was  coming  to  70  Albemarle 
Place,  and  had  asked  us  to  pick  out  our  gifts.  Now,  what 
will  you  take?"- — with  the  air  of  a  Lady  Bountiful. 

"  Well,  I  think  I'd  like  the  young  lady  in  pink," 
laughed  Molly,  "and  the  work-box  with  the  cunning 
scissors  and  thimble." 

"  Then  I'll  have  the  rocking-chair  and  a  cornucopia  of 
candy,  for  my  sweet  tooth  is  just  aching  for  a  caramel." 
And  so  the  poor  little  souls  went  on  selecting  this  and 
that  as  though  they  were  blessed  with  the  purse  of  For- 
tunatus,  as  they  certainly  were  with  the  divine  gift  of 
imagination.  So  absorbed  were  they  that  neither  ob- 
served a  familiar  uncouth  figure  hovering  near,  though, 
later,  as  they  turned  into  Albemarle  Place.  Molly  pointed 
out  Captain  Lofty  disappearing  in  the  barber  shop  oppo- 
site and  snickered,  "Look,  Dolly,  the  Ogre  is  going  for 
a  Christmas  shave." 

She  was  right;  and  an  hour  after,  a  wildly  excited 
tonsorial  artist  burst  into  Gretchen  Miiller's  tidy  little 
room,  and  catching  her  around  the  waist,  went  whirling 
in  a  gay  mad  waltz  across  the  floor. 

"Ach,  my  Adolph,  what  has  happened  to  thee?1'  cried 
the  startled  girl.  "Ish  it  that  vour  senses  you  have 
lost?" 

"No,  no,  sweetheart;  not  unless  one  can  have  glad- 
ness on  the  bi-ain!  But  behold  that,"  holding  out,  as  he 
spoke,  two  large  shining  bits  of  gold. 

"  Fort-y  dol-lars!"  gasped  Gretchen,  amazed.  "From 
whence  did  it  come?" 

"  As  I  live,  from  that  jolly  old  '  Crank  '  over  the  way, 
and  I  wish  there  were  more  such  cranks  to  turn  this 
tough  world  upside  down  with  joy.  But  listen.  About 
dusk  into  the  shop  came  Mrs.  Blossom's  queer  lodger. 
'  Here,  you  whipper-snapper  of  a  chin-cutter,'  he  shouted. 
'off  with  these  hairs  and  let  me  see  if  you  understand 
your  trade.'  This  riled  me,  but  I  kept  my  temper  and 
shaved  him  as  clean  as  a  billiard-ball.  He  was  a  restless 
customer  and  found  a  deal  of  fault,  while  when  I  was 
done  he  growled,  '  There's  your  damages,'  and  hurried 
off  as  fast  as  his  rheumatism  would  permit.  I  was  wip- 
ing my  razor,  and  did  not  look  at  the  money  for  a 
minute.  When  I  did,  there  were  these  gold  beauties  in- 
stead of  the  usual  small  change." 


DECEMBER  11,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


107 


"  Oh,  but,  Adolph,  it  must  have  been  a  mistake,"  said 
Gretchen,  reproacli fully. 

"So  I  thought,  and  started  after  the  old  codger  with- 
out waiting  to  take  off  my  apron.  'Excuse  me,  sir.  but 
I  fear  you  have  made  one  big  blunder, 'said  I,  laying  hold 
of  his  coat  tails — at  which  he  turned  upon  me  like  a  red 
and  angry  lobster.  '  Ecod  and  little  fishes,'  he  roared. 
'Don't  you  think  Epaphroditus  Lofty  knows  his  own 
business  better  than  a  land-lubber  of  a  barber?  Is  there 
any  law  agin  paying  forty  dollars  for  a  Christmas 
shave?  If  there  isn't,  puj.  the  money  in  your  pocket  and 
hold  your  tongue,  else  you  will  get  no  more  of  my  cus- 
tom ' — with  which  he  thumped  into  the  house,  leaving 
me  pinching  myself  to  see  if  it  could  be  a  dream." 

"  But  it  wasn't,"  cried  Gretchen,  "  for  here  is  the  good 
solid  gold.  Ah,  bless  that  so  kind  old  Christinas  Crank!" 

In  the  mean  time  the  eccentric  seaman  had  been  met 
by  Minchon,  flushed  with  'weeping  and  bristling  with 
anger.  "That  hateful  Digby  has  been  getting  'square' 
at  last."  she  sobbed.  "He  knocked  me  down,  wrenched 
my  arm,  and  stole  all  the  nice  sweeties  you  sent  me  to 
buy.  Every  single  sugar-plum  and  lollipop  is  gone." 

"Pshaw,  now,  you  don't  say  so?" — and  the  Captain 
fairly  turned  purple  in  wrathful  sympathy.  "  But  don't 
cry.  little  mate;  I'll  settle  with  that  young  scoundrel. 
He  deserves  the  cat-o'-nine-tails;  but  seeing  it's  Christmas- 
tide,  suppose  we  try  the  effect  of  a  few  '  coals  of  fire '  on 
his  rascally  head  instead." 

"Oh,  yes,  yes;  and  scorch  him  well,"  snapped  the  girl, 
taking  her  friend  literally,  and  she  revelled  in  the  sweets 
of  revenge  like  a  veritable  little  heathen,  as  she  watched 
him  striding  down  the  street  in  quest  of  the  miscreant 
Master  Sniithers. 

The  following  morning  each  inmate  of  the  lodging- 
house  found  on  his  or  her  door  a  small  missive,  which 
ran  thus: 

"  Captain  Epaphroditus  Lofty  presents  his  compliments 
and  requests  your  presence  at  the  launching  of  the  Kriss 
Kringle  on  Christmas  Eve  at  eight  o'clock. 

"  70  Albemarle  Place.     Second  floor  front." 

Promptly,  then,  at  the  appointed  hour  a  procession  of 
curious  folk  appeared  in  the  upper  hall  headed  by  Mrs. 
Dabney  Blossom,  truly  resplendent  in  carefully  pre- 
served relics  of  ante-bellum  finery.  The  door  of  the 
front  room  flew  open,  and  there  was  the  first  surprise  in 
Minchon,  looking  almost  pretty  in  a  scarlet  frock,  and 
trim  and  trig  as  a  little  yacht,  from  her  neatly  braided 
hair  to  her  new  and  shining  shoes.  Her  bright  counte- 
nance fell,  however,  when  she  beheld  Digby  Sniithers, 
sidling  in  behind  the  first-floor  lodgers,  unusually  clean 
of  face,  and  unusually  redolent  of  brown  soap  and  diffi- 
dence. But  the  bowing,  beaming  Captain  welcomed  him 
as  cordially  as  he  did  the  rest,  and  then  a  chorus  of  ad- 
miring exclamations  burst  forth  as  all  eyes  rested  on  a 
table  garlanded  with  evergreens  upon  which  stood  the 
perfect  model  of  a  miniature  ship.  And  such  a  ship,  with 
snowy  sails  and  silken  ropes,  and  hung  from  stem  to 
stern  with  glittering  balls  and  streamers  gay  !  Lighted 
tapers  twinkled  merrily  from  every  mast  and  point,  and 
a  rich  cargo  of  fruits  and  sweetmeats,  toys  and  trinkets, 
was  heaped  upon  the  deck;  while,  wonder  of  wonders — 
to  the  girl  twins— the  Kriss  Kringle  carried  as  passen- 
gers a  porcelain  lady  dressed  in  pink  and  a  baby  doll  in 
cap  and  gown.  Erelong  every  one  had  received  some- 
thing from  the  Christmas  ship. 

Winsome  Dolly  was  the  picture  of  bliss  with  the  baby 
doll  filling  her  arms  and  caramels  her  rosy  mouth  ;  Molly 
was  gloating  over  her  work-box ;  and  even  Dixie,  adorned 
with  a  yellow  ribbon,  was  happily  lapping  cream  from  a 
quaint  Japanese  dish,  when  suddenly  in  walked  the  little 
barber  with  the  blushing  Gretchen  on  his  arm. 


"  Fraulein  Miiller,  I  believe,"  said  the  Captain,  coming 
forward,  politely. 

"No,  sir,"  spoke  up  Adolph;  "it  is  not  Fraulein  Miil- 
ler; this  is  Frau  Frank,  whom  I  have  brought  straight 
from  the  church  to  thank  our  so  great  benefactor."  At 
which  announcement  Minchon  flew  to  embrace  the  bride, 
the  modest  tar  crimsoned  to  his  eyebrows,  and  Mrs.  Blos- 
som, to  cover  her  confusion,  cried: 

"  If  that  be  the  case,  run  up,  Miss  Tuffet,  and  play  us 
the  Wedding  March." 

Willingly  the  tiny  woman  obeyed,  while  most  of  the 
party  trooped  after,  and  gathering  around  the  musical 
instrument,  joined  their  voices  in  the  carols  with  which 
she  followed  up  the  processional. 

The  good  genius  of  the  feast  roared  with  the  rest,  re- 
gardless of  time  or  tune,  when  Digby,  who  had  remained 
below  holding  a  shame-faced  jubilate  by  himself  over  a 
long -coveted  pair  of  skates,  appeared  and  whispered, 
"Say,  Cap,  there's  a  peaked-lookin'  chap  askin'  for  you 
at  the  front  door." 

"  It  must  be  that  delayed  Christmas  gift."  And  away 
the  Captain  scurried,  while  presently  Mrs.  Robin  also 
was  summoned  down  stairs. 

"  I  wonder  what  for?"  thought  inquisitive  Moll}',  and 
slyly  stole  after,  to  be  almost  paralyzed  with  astonish- 
ment at  seeing  her  gentle  timid  mother  sobbing  hysteri- 
cally on  the  shoulder  of  an  utter  stranger  with  a  long 
brown  beard  and  such  a  white,  white  face.  "  Who  in 
the  world  can  it  be?" 

Suddenly,  however,  the  newcomer  asked,  in  a  choked 
voice,  "And  the  twin  birdlings,  Mary,  are  they  still 
alive  and  well?"  To  which  Mrs.  Robin  responded,  "Yes, 
yes;  thank  God !" 

For,  as  you  have  doubtless  imagined,  the  mysterious 
individual  was  none  other  than  Tom  Robin,  of  Nantucket, 
given  back,  as  it  were,  from  a  watery  grave,  and  with  a 
harrowing  tale  of  shipwreck,  wearisome  months  in  a 
foreign  hospital,  and  a  final  return,  only  to  find  the 
home-nest  where  he  had  left  his  little  brood  deserted, 
and  all  the  Robins  flown  he  knew  not  whither.  "Which 
was  such  a  shock,"  he  concluded,  "that  the  brain-fever 
came  back,  and  I  long  hovered  'twixt  life  and  death.  I 
never  dreamed  of  you  being  in  this  big  city,  until  my  old 
mate  Lofty  ferreted  me  out." 

"We'll  soon  nurse  yon  back  to  health  and  strength 
now,"  said  his  wife,  with  a  contented  smile.  And  Dolly 
cried,  "So  mamma  got  a  Christmas  doll,  too;  and  the 
biggest  of  the  three." 

All  then  voted  the  launching  of  the  Kriss  Kringle  "a 
glorious  success,"  while  Mrs.  Blossom  invited  the  com- 
pany to  share  her  turkey  and  plum-pudding  the  next  day. 
"It  will  be  a  farewell  dinner,"  she  announced,  "as  we 
must  part  at  the  new  year.  Captain  Lofty  intends  adopt- 
ing Minchon  to  fill  the  place  of  a  little  lost  daughter,  and 
has  asked  me  to  keep  house  for  them  at  Sandy  Roost." 

"  Which,"  added  the  old  seaman,  "  is  a  tidy  spot  down 
on  the  coast,  where  I  hope  to  weigh  anchor  within  sight 
and  smell  of  salt  water  for  the  rest  of  my  days." 

"Goin'  to  make  a  lady  of  yer,  is  he?"  asked  Digby, 
grinning  at  the  girl,  who  replied,  "I  don't  know;  but  he 
says  he  will  make  me  a  first-rate  sailor." 

"Now,  ain't  he  a  dandy  old  Crank!  For  he's  prom- 
ised, too,  to  look  out  for  a  berth  for  uie  on  a  good  ship." 
Then,  swallowing  a  lump  in  his  throat,  the  boy  stam- 
mered, "See  here,  Min,  I'm  dreadful  sorry  for  being  so 
mean  to  you  and  Dixie,  and  I  wouldn't  be  such  a  bad 
fellow  if  I'd  ever  had  a  chance.  Can't  we  be  friends?' 

Which  showed  the  "coals  of  tire"  had  not  been 
wasted,  while,  as  Minchon  clasped  the  rough  red  hand 
of  her  quondam  enemy,  the  last  taper  on  the  little  festal 
bark  flickered  and  went  out,  and  the  chimes  in  a  neigh- 
boring steeple  rang  forth  the  angels'  song — 
"Peace  on  earth,  good-will  to  men." 


108 


HARPER'S  YOUNG   PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


TIIK   LARGEST   MAGNET   IN   THE 
WOKLD. 

I)OTENTIALITY.  That  is  a  big-sound- 
ing- six  syllabled  word.  It.  means  that 
within  something  all  possibilities  are  in- 
dud. -d.  We  ought  to  be  cautious  about 
speculating  too  far  into  the  potentiality 
nl'  anything.  Your  fancy  might  be  like 
a  horse.  You  may  not  throw  the  reins 
over  liis  neck,  because  he  might  run  away 
and  pitch  you  off.  Nevertheless,  it  is  not 
unwise  under  certain  precautions  to  let 
your  imagination  take  the  bit  at  times. 

Great  men  in  studying  science  form 
what  are  known  as  theories,  and  they  do 
not  theorize  with  their  hands,  but  with 
their  brains.  When  Michael  Faraday  in 
is." I  took  a  piece  of  iron  and  wound  a 
copper  wire  about  it,  and  passed  an  electric 
current  through  the  wire,  he  made  his 
iron  magnetic.  When  he  saw  the  re- 
sult of  his  wonderful  experiment,  did  he 
allow  himself  to  be  carried  away  by  the 
potentialities?  Could  he  fancy  the  thou- 
sands of  uses  which  would  find  applica- 
tions by  this  change  of  force,  electricity 
producing  magnetism?  Could  he  presage  the  electric 
telegraph,  electric  lighting,  the  electric  motor?  You 
may  go  daft  over  your  potentialities,  and  yet  results  may 
conn;  about  in  future  years  far  more  extraordinary  than 
your  wildest  imaginings. 

Orientals  have  plenty  of  fancy.  There  was  Moham- 
med's colfin,  which  they  said  hung  in  mid-air,  poised  be- 
tween two  magnets.  In  the  Arabian  Niglits  there  is  the 
story  of  a  ship  approaching  a  loadstone  mountain,  and 
all  her  spikes  drawn  out  of  her  timbers,  so  that  the  craft 
foundered. 

When  I  used  to  play  with  a  little  hollow  metal  duck 
in  a  basin  of  water,  drawing  the  duck  where  I  pleased  by 
means  of  a  bit  of  magnetic  iron  (always  painted  red),  I 
had  no  idea  about  magnetic  potentialities. 

I  am  going  to  be  very  wild  indeed.  I  fancy  I  see  a 
squadron  of  mounted  cuirassiers  with  their  steel  corselets. 
Their  horses,  on  the  full  gallop,  are  charging  a  fort. 
Now  for  mounted  men  to  charge  a  fort  is  a  very  silly 


THEN   HE    COVERED    HIS    CREST    WITH    IRON    SPIKES    LIKE    A    PORCUPINE 


HOLDING   UP    FIVE    325-POUND   CANNON    BALLS. 

thing.  They  are  not  riding  at  the  fort  of  their  own  free- 
will, but  because  they  cannot  help  themselves,  for  they 
are  tugging  at  their  horses'  bits  as  hard  as  they  can. 
This,  however,  is  the  exact  situation:  Inside  of  that  fort 
is  a  great  magician.  He  has  the  most  powerful  of  dyna- 
mos ever  built,  and  he  is  creating  a  tremendous  and  irre- 
sistible magnetic  force.  It  is  the  iron  horseshoes  which 
are  dragging  on  the  animals,  as  are  the  steel  corselets  the 
cavalrymen.  The  magician  just  bags  the  whole  squad- 
ron, barring  those  few  horses  -whose  shoes  have  been 
torn  off  or  those  cavalrymen  who  have  had  their  cui- 
rasses stripped  off  their  backs.  It  is  only  the  repetition 
of  my  little  toy  cluck,  but  the  magnet  has  been  intensi- 
fied many  hundreds  of  thousands  of  millions  of  times., 

This  is  an  absurd  magnetic  potentiality,  of  course. 
What,  however,  I  want  to  write  about  is  that  I  saw  at 
Willetts  Point  the  biggest  magnet  ever  yet  set  to  work. 

Willetts  Point  is  a  government  station  commanded  by 
Lieutenant-Colonel  R.  W.  King,  and  here  it  is  that  en- 
gineering officers  of  the  United  States 
Army  get  their  polishing  off.  Electricity 
has  so  much  to  do  to-day  with  the  protection 
of  land  approaches  by  means  of  torpedoes, 
and  an  enemy's  ships  are  to  be  blown  to 
atoms  by  the  help  of  submarine  boats,  that 
electricity  may  be  said  to  be  always  on  tap 
at  Willetts  Point, 

Colonel  King  having, handy  a  large  can- 
non weighing  50, 000  pounds,  and  a  quantity 
of  old  torpedo  wire,  took  fourteen  miles  of 
the  wire,  coiled  it  around  one  of  his  guns, 
and  passed  electricity  through  the  wire  by 
means  of  a  powerful  dynamo.  At  once  an 
immense  magnetic  force  was  developed. 
Here  is  a  picture  of  the  cannon,  which  has 
hanging  to  it  five  325-pound  shells.  You 
may  have  seen  a  little  horseshoe  magnet, 
and  how  several  steel  pens  may  be  made  to 
hang  from  it.  This  big  magnet  does  the 
same  thing  with  the  five  cannon  balls.  You 
can  understand  how  powerful  is  this  mag- 
netic force  when  you  consider  how  slight  is 
the  point  of  contact  when  two  spheres  touch. 
The  five  shells  represent  a  down-pull  of  1625 
pounds.  They  are  hanging  together,  one 
over  the  other,  by  an  area  of  surface  which 


DECEMBER    11,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


109 


can  be,  theoretically,  but  a  point.  At  first,  for  conven- 
ience' sake,  in  lifting  heavy  weights  an  iron  pulley  with 
a  quarter  inch  chain  was  used,  but  when  the  gun  was 
magnetic  the  chain  and  pulley  were  of  no  use.  The 
chain  became  as  rigid  as  if  it  had  been  a  bar  of  solid  steel 
and  riveted  to  the  gun. 

I  saw  a  man  stand  at  a  distance  of  some  three  feet 
from  the  gun,  and  putting  an  iron  spike  against  his 
breast,  the  spike  would  stand  out  straight,  as  if  he  were  a 
magnet.  Then  he  covered  his  chest  with  iron  spikes  like 
a  porcupine. 

A  heavy  piece  of  railroad  iron,  weighing  fully  fifty 
pounds,  when  pushed  into  the  muzzle  of  the  cannon, 
was  shoved  out  a  certain  distance  and  then  drawn  back 
by  the  magnetic  force.  The  soldiers  who  work  the 
magnet  derive  some  amusement  from  the  gun.  When 
they  see  a  green  man,  they  say  to  him,  "  Billy,  just  hand 
us  that  crowbar  leaning  against  the  gun."  Billy,  anx- 
ious to  help,  tries  to  take  the  crowbar,  and  finds  that  he 
cannot  budge  it,  pull,  haul,  or  strain  all  he  may.  It  re- 
quires the  efforts  of  two  men,  with  a  sudden  jerk,  to  pull 
away  from  the  gun  an  iron  bar  weighing  about  twenty- 
five  pounds. 

This  gun  was  mounted  on  a  great  iron  carriage  fully 
twenty  feet  long.  The  whole  carriage  was  magnetic. 
Big  nails  would  stick  to  it  anywhere.  I  made  long  pen- 
dants of  nails.  It  was  curious  to  see  railroad  spikes  lift 
themselves  up  on  a  wooden  platform,  as  if  they  were  live 
things  making  ready  to  spring  at  the  gun. 


THE     LITTLE     RED     BOOK. 

BY    ELLEN    DOUGLAS    DELANO. 
CHAPTER     II. 

T1HOUGH  Madge  and  Bertha  had   decided  that  they 
would  not   tell   Eleanor  of   the  discovery  they  had 
made,  the   possession    of   such  a  secret  made  them  con- 
scious of  a  feeling  of  power  over  Eleanor  which  could 
be  made  known  to  her  the  moment  they  felt  so  inclined. 
Of    course    they    would 
never  tell.     Oh  no.     But 
yet  if  they  did  tell,  what 
would  Eleanor  say? 

"Just  think!"  they 
would  whisper  to  each 
other.  ' '  We  know  more 
about  her  than  she  does 
herself!" 

Madge  wished  very 
much  that  she  could 
speak  of  it  to  her  moth- 
er and  sister,  but  that 
would  be  to  confess  that 
they  had  read  the  diary, 
of  which  she  was  secret- 
ly very  much  ashamed. 
Bertha  had  no  such 
scruples,  but  there  was 
no  one  in  whom  she 
wished  to  confide.  The 
fact  that  she  and  Madge 
Barnes  were  intimate 
and  shared  such  a  huge 
secret  was  enough  for 
her. 

The  next  day  was 
Sunday.  The  three  girls 
were  in  the  same  Sun- 
day-school class,  which 
was  taught  by  Mrs. 


Rogers.  It  happened  that  the  subject  of  honor  came  into 
the  lesson,  and  Mrs.  Rogers  spoke  at  some  length  about  it. 
Ma  dire  had  left  her  usual  seat,  and  sat  next  to  Bertha. 
She  wished  Eleanor  to  understand  that  she  was  not  for- 
given for  having  left  them  yesterday  afternoon.  Bi-rtha 
fastened  her  eyes  boldly  on  Mrs.  Rogers's  face,  and  lis- 
tened to  all  that  she  said  with  exaggerated  attention. 

"  It  is  not  right  to  deceive  in  any  way,  Mrs.  Rogers,  is 
it?"  she  asked. 

"Certainly  not,  Bertha." 

"  You  ought  always  to  tell  the  truth  right  out.  no  mat- 
ter how  much  you  hurt  people's  feelings,  or  anything 
else?" 

"You  should  always  speak  the  truth  if  you  speak  at 
all.  Sometimes  it  is  unnecessary  to  say  anything.  If 
you  know  something  about  your  neighbor  that  would  do 
110  good  to  any  one  else  to  have  known,  but,  on  the  con- 
trary, might  do  harm,  there  is  no  reason  why  you  should 
tell  it,  even  though  it  may  be  the  truth." 

"  But  is  it  right  to  pretend  to  be  what  you  are  not?" 

"Most  emphatically  no.  That  is  to  be  a  hypocrite,  a 
most  detestable  character." 

The  lesson  continued,  and  under  cover  of  it  Bertha 
whispered  to  Madge,  "She  is  a  hypocrite  herself,  then, 
for  she  is  pretending  that  Eleanor  is  her  own  child  when 
she  isn't." 

"  Oh,  hush  !"  said  Madge,  hastily.  "  I  am  afraid  some 
one  will  hear  you." 

"  Well,  I  like  people  to  practise  what  they  preach," 
murmured  Bertha,  "and  I  believe  Eleanor  has  told  her 
mother  about  the  diary  and  our  reading  it,  and  that  is 
the  reason  she  began  to  talk  about  honor." 

"I  don't  believe  so,  Bertha.  I'm  awfully  mad  at 
Eleanor  because  she  went  home,  but  she  promised  not  to 
tell,  and  she  always  keeps  her  word.  But  you  said  you 
didn't  think  it  was  dishonorable  to  read  the  diary." 

"  I  don't,  as  long  as  Mrs.  Brewster  was  so  careless  as  to 
lose  it.  I  think  we  had  a  perfect  right  to  read  it." 

Madge  made  no  answer.  She  did  not  agree  with  Ber- 
tha, but  Mrs.  Rogers  was  looking  at  them,  so  she  could 
say  no  more. 

Mrs.  Rogers  had  noticed  that  some  trouble  had  occurred 


'IT'S    ONLY    A    JOKE,"    SHE    ASSURED    KATY. 


110 


HAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


among  the  children,  and  she  questioned  Eleanor  as  to  the 
cause  when  they  were  walking  home  after  morning  ser- 

vice. 

"Oh,  it  is  nothing  much!"  said  Eleanor,  bravely, 
though  she  really  felt  very  sore  aboui  it.  "The  girls 
were  going  to  do  something  yesterday  that  I  didn't  like, 
and  so  I  came  home,  and  no-.v  they  are  mad." 

••  What  were  they  going  to  do,  dear?"  asked  Mrs. 
Rogers. 

"Mamma  dear,  I  can't  tell  you,  for  I  promised  ] 
•wouldn't  tell  before  I  knew  what  it  was.  You  don't 
mind,  do  you?  For  I  would  tell  you  if  I  could.  Indeed, 
I'd  give  anything  to  tell  you." 

"  No,  dear.  I  don't  mind,  for  I  know  you  would  if  you 
could;  but  it  is  better  to  be  careful  about  making  prom- 
ises." 

At  school  the  next  day  Bertha-and  Madge  were  insep- 
arable. To  be  sure,  Madge's  desk  was  next  to  Eleanor's, 
but  no  communications  were  passed  between  the  girls,  no 
little  scraps  of  notes  were  written,  and  during  recess  Ber- 
tha and  Madge  walked  about  with  their  arms  about  one 
another's  waists,  or  stood  in  retired  corners  laughing  over 
their  great  secret. 

"We'll  call  it  '  O.  A.',  for  Orphan  Asylum,  shall  we?" 
asked  Bertha.  "Or  would  '  M.  B.  D.',  Mrs,  Brewster's 
Diary,  be  better?" 

"  '  O.  A.'  would  be  the  best,"  replied  Madge.  "She 
might  guess  Mrs.  Brewster's  Diary,  for  she  knows  about 
that,  but  she  would  never  guess  '  O.  A.'" 

"O.  A.,"  therefore,  was  loudly  mentioned  whenever 
Eleanor  was  within  hearing,  and  although  she  tried  her 
very  best  not  to  show  it,  and  succeeded,  too,  she  felt  very 
much  hurt  and  very  unhappy  to  be  so  treated  by  her  best 
friend.  In  order  to  appear  not  to  mind  it  she  joined 
some  of  the  older  girls,  who  were  always  nice  to  her,  for 
Eleanor  was  one  of  the  most  popular  girls  at  school. 

The  theatricals  mentioned  in  the  last  chapter  were  to 
come  off  this  week.  They  were  to  be  at  the  Athenaeum, 
a  large  building  on  the  corner  of  Deane  Street  and  Hill- 
side Avenue,  built  to  serve  the  purpose  of  town-hall, 
library,  and  various  other  things.  It  contained  a  large 
room,  with  a  raised  platform  at  one  end,  which  could  be 
made  into  a  most  convenient  and  attractive  little  stage, 
and  here  the  two  plays  were  to  be  given.  The  younger 
girls  and  boys  were  to  take  part  in  Cinderella,  while 
some  of  the  grown  people  were  to  act  in  the  second  play. 

Ruth  Barnes,  Madge's  sister,  had  undertaken  to  coach 
the  young  people  in  their  parts,  and  had  appointed  the 
different  characters,  and  this  had  been  no  easy  matter. 

Eleanor  was  to  be  Cinderella.  She  was  the  best  act- 
ress, and,  therefore,  she  had  been  given  the  chief  part. 
Ruth  would  have  liked  to  give  the  part  to  Madge,  for  her 
delicate  face  and  figure  and  her  pretty  curls  would  have 
been  admirably  adapted  to  Cinderella;  but  apart  from 
disliking  to  give  her  sister  the  principal  character  in  the 
performance,  Ruth  felt  that  no  one  would  do  it  as  well  as 
Eleanor.  Madge  and  Bertha,  therefore,  were  to  be  the 
Cruel  Sisters,  May  Brewster  the  Fairy  Godmother,  and 
Ned  Brewster  the  Prince. 

Eleanor  was  much  delighted  at  the  idea  of  being  Cin- 
derella, but  the  chief  source  of  her  joy  lay  in  the  fact  that 
she  was  to  wear  a  beautiful  golden  wig.  For  one  night 
at  least  her  hateful  short  locks  would  be  hidden  from 
sight,  and  she  would  be  a  beautiful  golden-haired  princess 
in  awhile  gauzy  dress  all  covered  with  spangles,  and  the 
most  perfect  little  silver  slippers  that  ever  were  seen. 
Glass  ones  being  impossible,  Ruth  Barnes  had  ingenious- 
ly covered  a  pair  of  ordinary  slippers  with  silver  paper, 
and  the  effect  was  excellent. 

Bertha  Weld  was  not  at  all  pleased  with  her  part  of  the 
Cruel  Sister.  The  only  thing  that  reconciled  her  to  it  was 
that  Madge  Barnes  was  to  be  the  other  sister.  It  was 
Bertha's  one  ambition  to  be  intimate  with  Madge. 


She  not  only  admired  her  very  much  and  found  her 
entertaining,  for  Madge  could  invent  the  most  wonderful 
games  that  ever  were  played,  but  she  longed  to  be  on  the 
easy  footing  with  the  Barnes  family  that  Eleanor  Rogers 
enjoyed — to  be  welcome  at  any  hour  of  the  day,  to  go 
there  to  luncheon,  or  to  stay  all  night;  to  share  the  deli- 
cious candy  that  Madge  could  buy  whenever  she  felt  dis- 
posed, she  having  an  unlimited  amount  of  pocket-money  ; 
in  fact,  to  derive  all  the  benefits  that  were  possible  from 
an  intimacy  with  the  richest,  prettiest,  and  one  of  the 
most  popular  girls  in  the  place. 

For  although  Madge  could  be  very  aggravating,  she 
was  very  attractive,  and,  next  to  Eleanor,  was  liked  best 
by  all  the  girls  of  Durham.  The  boys  did  not  care  for 
her  as  much.  They  thought  she  "  put  oil  airs,"  as  they 
said,  and  they  declared  that  Eleanor  Rogers  was  worth 
three  of  Madge  Barnes. 

"  I  do  think  it  is  too  bad,  Madge,  that  you  are  not  to  be 
Cinderella,"  said  Bertha,  as  they  walked  home  from  school. 
"  You  would  make  a  sweet  one;  and  itlis  perfectly  ridicu- 
lous for  Eleanor  to  have  the  best  part.  She  is  not  nearly 
as  pretty  as  you,  in  the  first  place." 

"Oh,  Bertha!"  murmured  Madge,  blushing  a  little  at 
the  flattery,  which  was  very  pleasant  to  hear.  "Eleanor 
is  pretty,  every  one  thinks,  and  in  the  golden  wig  she  will 
be  lovely." 

"  Pooh !  Fancy  having  to  wear  a  wig !  I'd  be  ashamed 
to.  If  my  own  hair  wouldn't  do,  I  wouldn't  act  the  part." 

And  Bertha  tossed  the  long  thick-braid  which  hung 
down  her  back. 

"I  think  it's  awfully  vulgar  and  fast  to  wear  false 
hair,"  she  continued.  "Just  what  you  would  expect  from 
an  orphan  asylum  girl." 

Madge  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Bertha  was  very  spite- 
ful about  Eleanor;  but  why  should  Madge  stand  up  for 
her  when  they  had  quarrelled?  So  she  merely  said: 

"Ruth  wants  her  to  wear  the  wig.  You  know  it's  the 
right  thing  to  do  in  acting,  and  it's  the  same  wig  that 
Ruth  wore  herself  years  ago  in  a  play." 

"Well,  anyhow,  I  think  you  ought  to  have  the  part, 
and  I  am  going  to  do  something  to  get  it  for  you." 

"Oh,  Bertha,  what  are  you  going  to  do?"  cried  Madge, 
who  was  longing  to  be  Cinderella,  but  who  for  once  had 
not  gained  her  o\vn  way  with  her  sister  Ruth. 

"Never  mind.  You'll  see,"  said  Bertha,  giving  a  little 
skip  as  she  spoke.  "Only  be  careful  not  to  show  that 
you  know  anything  about  it  if  anything  happens." 

"  Indeed  I  won't.  I'd  just  love  to  be  Cinderella;  only 
it  seems  a  shame  to  take  it  away  from  Eleanor." 

"And  why  should  you  deny  yourself  for  her?  She 
was  perfectly  horrid  on  Satin-day." 

"I  know  she  was.  And  do  you  know,  Bertha,  it  was 
all  her  fault  that  Bridget  couldn't  find  us  when  you  came 
to  see  me.  We  had  seen  you  coming,  and  Eleanor  said 
to  hide  under  the  sofa.  There,  I  didn't  mean  to  tell  you, 
but  I  couldn't  help  it." 

"Oh,  that  was  it,  was  it?"  exclaimed  Bertha.  An  angry 
light  came  into  her  eyes,  and  the  color  deepened  in  her 
cheeks.  "Very  well,  Miss  Eleanor  Rogers!  You'll  get 
paid  back  for  this." 

"But  I  was  almost  as  much  to  blame,"  said  Madge,  a 
little  frightened  at  the  effect  of  her  words,  "because  I  was 
willing  to  do  it." 

"That  is  not  the  same  as  thinking  of  it,  and  I'll  never 
forgive  Eleanor  Rogers  for  that.  It  is  just  what  you 
would  expect  such  a  person  to  do." 

The  girls  parted  here,  and  Madge  went  home  feeling 
just  a  little  remorseful,  but  not  wholly  realizing  how  dis- 
honorable and  unfair  she  had  been.  She  consoled  her 
conscience  by  thinking  that  as  she  and  Eleanor  were  no 
longer  friends,  and  as  she  and  Bertha  were  now  on  such 
intimate  terms,  it  was  quite  right  to  transfer  all  her  al- 
legiance to  her  latest  ally. 


DECEJIBER  11,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


ill 


Bertha  also  went  home,  and  after  luncheon  proceeded 
to  put  her  new  plan  into  execution. 

Bertha  Weld  had  not  naturally  a  bad  disposition,  but 
circumstances  were  all  against  her.  She  was  an  only 
child,  and  she  had  no  mother.  Her  father  was  absorbed 
in  his  business,  and  Bertha  was  left  entirely  to  the  ser- 
vants, except  when  one  of  her  aunts  came  for  an  occa- 
sional visit.  But  they  did  not  know  the  child  well,  and 
did  not  take  the  trouble  to  try  to  know  her  better.  There 
was  none  of  the  intimate  intercourse  that  is  so  common 
between  aunt  and  niece,  and  they  usually  went  away 
with  the  idea  that  Bertha  was  a  most  unattractive  child, 
and  more  spoiled  than  ever. 

From  the  time  that  Mr.  Weld  had  first  come  to  Dur- 
ham, about  three  years  ago,  Bertha  had  fastened  her  af- 
fections upon  Madge  Barnes.  It  was  the  one  desire  of 
her  life  to  be  intimate  with  her,  instead  of  which  Eleanor 
Rogers  occupied  the  envied  position,  and  Bertha  was  taken 
up  and  dropped  as  happened  to  suit  the  wilful  Madge. 

It  was  foolish  and  undignified  for  Bertha  to  submit  to 
such  treatment,  but  she  never  had  the  strength  of  mind  to 
resist  Madge's  advances,  and  when  the  reverse  came  al- 
ways attributed  it  to  the  influence  of  Eleanor.  She  knew 
in  her  inmost  heart  that  Eleanor  was  not  to  blame,  but  it 
suited  her  convenience  to  think  so. 

And  now  it  seemed  a  rare  chance  to  step  entirely  into 
Eleanor's  place.  Madge  was  really  angry  with  her.  Ber- 
tha knew  how  much  Madge  wanted  to  be  Cinderella.  If 
she,  Bertha,  could  manage  it  for  her,  would  she  not  thus 
secure  Madge's  everlasting  gratitude  and  friendship? 

"It  is  a  magnificent  scheme, '' said  Bertha  to  herself. 
"  Eleanor  is  so  fearfully  sensitive  that  it  will  work  splen- 
didly." 

She  went  to  her  room,  and  sitting  down  at  her  desk, 
with  a  pencil  and  paper,  began  to  write.  It  was  a  long 
time  before  she  had  composed  a  letter  that  seemed  alto- 
gether suitable.  Many  times  she  would  write  a  sentence, 
then  cross  it  off,  and  try  to  express  the  same  thing  in  an- 
other way.  Finally  it  was  written  to  her  satisfac- 
tion. 

"  Now  the  thing  is  to  get  it  copied,"  she  said  to  herself. 
"I  don't  want  it  to  go  in  my  handwriting,  and  I  want  to 
be  able  to  say  that  I  didn't  write  it.  For,  of  course,  it 
would  be  quite  true  to  say  I  didn't  if  some  one  else  copies 
it." 

Bertha's  idea  of  truthfulness  was  of  the  letter  of  the 
deed  and  not  the  spirit. 

She  went  in  search  of  Katy,  the  waitress,  who  wrote  a 
good  hand,  and  who  was  in  great  demand  among  her 
associates  when  they  wished  to  correspond  with  their 
friends. 

"Katy,  will  you  do  something  for  me?"  asked  Ber- 
tha. 

"La,  yes,  Miss  Bertha!  What  is  it?"  said  Katy,  who 
was  very  good-natured,  and  who  felt  sorry  for  the  lonely 
•child,  spoiled  and  disagreeable  as  she  could  sometimes  be. 

"  I  want  you  to  write  a  letter  for  me." 

"La,  Miss  Bertha,  and  you  writing  the  beautiful  hand 
that  you  do !" 

"But,  Katy,  this  is  a  joke,  and  I  don't  want  any  one 
-ever  to  know  I  had  anything  to  do  with  it.  You  will 
never  tell,  will  you?  And  I'll  give  you  something  nice. 
Let  me  see.  I'll  give  you  that  pretty  work-basket  Aunt 
Adelaide  brought  me  the  last  time  she  was  here.  I  never 
do  any  work,  so  I  don't  need  it." 

So  the  bargain  was  struck,  and  Katy,  in  a  clear  round 
liand,  copied  the  following  letter  or  notice,  for  it  had 
neither  beginning  nor  ending: 

"Do  you  think  it  is  right  or  kind  for  you  to  keep  the 
part  of  Cinderella?  Every  one  but  you  thinks  you  ought 
to  give  it  to  Madge  Barnes.  You  ought  to  insist  upon 
her  taking  it.  It  is  the  universal  opinion  that  Madge 
could  do  the  part  better  than  you;  and  she  would  cer- 


tainly make  a  prettier  Cinderella  on  account  of  her  hair. 
It  is  surprising  that  you  have  not  found  out  before  what 
all  the  girls  are  thinking  about  it." 

Bertha  was  exceedingly  proud  of  this  composition. 
Those  were  such  finely  turned  phrases,  "  Universal  opin- 
ion," "insist  upon  her  taking  it." 

"It  is  only  a  joke,"  she  assured  Katy,  who  expressed 
some  surprise  when  she  was  told  how  to  address  it. 

The  note  was  written  on  plain  white  paper,  and  Ber- 
tha, when  she  carried  it  to  the  post-office  and  mailed  it, 
felt  quite  confident  that  she  would  never  be  found  out. 
That  the  letter  was  untruthful  never  occurred  to  her. 
She  had  heard  one  person  say  that  Madge,  with  her  curly 
hair,  would  make  a  pretty  Cinderella,  and  the  fact  that 
she  herself  agreed  with  this  opinion  was  sufficient  founda- 
tion for  the  expression,  "All  the  girls." 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


QUOITS   IN   WAKFAEE. 

THE  game  of  quoits  is  still  popular  among  certain  classes. 
Few  of  those  who  play  it  are  aware  that  it  has  a  deadly  use 
in  India.  According  to  an  English  officer  in  that  strange,  rich 
section  of  the  British  Empire,  quoits  are  used  as  implements  of 
war  by  the  Sikhs,  an  independent  and  very  martial  tribe  iu 
India.  "  The  Sikhs,"  says  he,  "  have  a  great  variety  of  weapons. 
I  observed  the  musket,  matchlock,  sword,  spears  of  sundry 
forms,  dagger,  and  battle-axe;  hut  the  arm  that  is  exclusively 
peculiar  to  this  sect  is  the  quoit.  It  is  made  of  beautiful  thin 
steel,  sometimes  inlaid  with  gold.  In  using  it  the  warrior  twirls 
it  swiftly  round  the  forefinger,  and  launches  it  with  such  deadly 
aim,  as,  according  to  their  own  account,  to  he  sure  of  his  man  at 
eighty  paces."  It  appears  they  wear  these  war-quoits  on  their 
arm  like  armlets,  and  on  the  top-knot  (which  is  peculiar  to  the 
Sikh)  of  the  turban.  The  edges  of  the  quoits  are  very  sharp, 
and  sure  death  to  all  who  may  he  hit  by  them. 


REUNION   SONG. 

WE  gather  on  this  happy  day 
To  greet  each  other  here, 
A  moment  pausing  on  our  way 

To  lift  a  song  of  cheer. 
The  roll-call  of  tin-  merry  host 
That  owns  our  Table  Round 
Takes  in  the  land  from  coast  to  coast 
Wherever  names  are  found. 


Then  hurrah,  hurrah,  for  ninety-four! 

Clasp  hands  and  lift  a  shout, 
For  Knights  and  Ladies  met  once  more 

As  the  year  is  going  out. 

The  days  have  flown  on  wings  of  light 

Since  last  our  Order  came, 
One  summer  noontide  blithe  and  bright, 

To  answer  to  its  name. 
Now  frnst  and  cold  and  snow  are  here, 

But  we  are  brave  and  gay, 
And  lift  our  song  with  cheer  on  cheer 

This  glad  Keuuiou  day. 

Refrain. 

Fair  Order  of  the  Table  Round, 

What  tokens  do  you  bring, 
As  loviug  looks  and  words  abound, 

And  joyously  you  sing? 
Wi1  stand  for  good,  and  not  for  ill, 

Our  native  land  we  love, 
Each  day  with  deeds  of  kindness  fill, 

And  trust  in  God  above. 

Befrain. 


112 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


A   FOOTBALLAD. 

I  very  littl'    Tommyttwught.) 

HE  said  when  be  saw  the  football  high 

Suspi-nded  from  a  peg, 
"  1 1    must   have  been  a  tough  old  ben 
That  laid  that  leather  egg." 


THE  OBBERWOB. 

"  Wn  \T  do  yon  suppose  the  baby  is  thinking  about,  ?'' 

"Well,  I  judge  from  what  he  says  that  he's  thinking  about 
the  obberwob." 

"  The  obberwob  f " 

"Yes;  that's  what  he  said  a  minute  ago.  I  don  t  know  what 
an  obberwob  is,  but  I  guess  it's  worth  thinking  about." 


A  BUTTERNUT  THOUGHT. 
THE  butternut  is  oval, 

And  when  I  see  it  fall, 
It  seems  the  little  brother 

Of  the  big  football. 


. 

SANTA'S  MISTAKE. 
WELL,  here's  a  pretty  howdy-do! 
This  stack   is  not  a  chitniuee — 
And  here  I  am  on  Christmas  morn 
Some  twenty-seven  miles  at  sea! 

NOT  A  POPULAR  PASTIME. 

"DON'T  think  I'd  like  to  be  a  plumber,"  said  Wallie.  "They 
seein  to  me  to  sit  still  so  miu-h,  and  I  hate  sittiu1  still.  I'd 
rather  be  a  postman,  and  go  around  ringin'  door-bells  and 
blovvin'  a  whistle." 


FREDDIE  HAS  AN  IDEA. 

"  WHAT  are  you  going  to  do  with  that  key,  Freddie  ?" 
"I'm  goiu'  to  try  and  make  the  baby  walk  with  it.     Seems 
to  me  if  a  key  is  smart  enough  to  make  a  doll  that  ain  t  alive 
walk,  it  ought  to  be  smart  enough  to  make  a  live  baby  do  it." 

THE  DIFFERENCE. 
SMALL  Thomas,  had  a  thought  last  night 

As  he  sat  down  to  sup  ; 
Said  be,  "  My  pa  writes  stories  down, 

While  builders  put  'em  up." 


WHY    BOBBY    DIDN'T    GET    HIS    ROCKING-HORSE. 


HARPEKS 


;H 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


Copyright,  1894,  by  HARPKH  A  BROTHKHS.     All  Rights  Re; 


PUBLISHED     WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI.— NO.  790. 


MEW   YORK,   TUESDAY.  DECEMBER   18,  1894. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO    DOLLARS   A    YEAR. 


UNDER  THE  CASTLE'S  GUNS. 

BY     WILLIAM     D  K  Y  S  D  A  L  E. 


SINCE  his  adventure  in  Porto  Rico  young  Dan  Coffin, 
of  Stouington,  has  taken  to  wearing  boots  and  a  blue 
cap.  But  six  montbs  ago,  when  he  was  about  fourteen 
and  a  half,  be  much  preferred  the  freedom  of  bare  feet, 
and  the  slight  protection  of  a  battered  old  straw  hat, 
which  served  sometimes  as  a  bait-box,  but  oftener  as  a 
crab-basket  or  a  receptacle  for  apples. 

In  those  days,  only  six  months  ago,  Dan  was  a  fine 
specimen  of  the  typical  New  England  boy;  neither  too 
tall  nor  too  short ;  plump,  but  not  fat ;  brown  in  the  face, 
much  browner  in  the  hands,  and  a  rich  mahogany  color 
from  his  toes  up  to  his  knees,  because  his  trousers  were 
constantly  rolled  up  to  keep  them  dry  in  the.  boat. 

Young  Dan  was  not  always  in  his  boat  then,  but  he 


spent  a  great  deal  of  time  in  it.  "  Cap'n  Dan'l "  Coffin, 
Dan's  father,  is  the  chief  owner  and  Captain  of  the  fore- 
and-aft  schooner  Mary  D.,  which  has  a  snug  little  carry- 
ing trade  between  Savannah  and  Boston,  so  he  is  away 
from  home  most  of  the  time;  but  it  often  used  to  happen 
when  he  did  reach  home,  and  heard  his  wife  complain  of 
Dan's  spending  so  much  time  on  the  water,  that  he  poked 
her  lovingly  with  his  big  forefinger,  and  replied:  "Let 
the  boy  alone,  mother.  He's  bound  to  make  a  sailor- 
man,  and  I  like  to  see  him  take  to  it  while  he's  young." 
Cap'n  Dan'l  did  not  think  then,  six  months  ago,  that 
young  Dan's  pluck  and  skill  were  so  soon  to  save  his 
schooner  for  him. 

Sometimes  when  freights  are  light  between  Savannah 


114 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME    XVI. 


and  Boston  the  Mary  D.  goes  further  afield,  and  runs 
down  into  the  West  Indies  after  a  cargo  of  sugar.  On 
these  occasions  she  generally  clears  for  St.  Kitts,  carry- 
ing out  part  of  a  cargo  of  general  merchandise  for  sale, 
and  bringing  back  the  sugar  in  hogsheads.  When  Cap'n 
l»:m'l  was  about  to  start  on  the  latest  of  these  West  Ind- 
ian voyages,  young  Dan  begged  so  hard  to  be  taken  along 
that,  his  mother  gave  a  reluctant  consent,  and  he  became 
a  member  of  the  crew.  But  it  was  only  as  a  hand  before 
the  mast,  for  Cap'n  Dan'l  would  not  let  him  "  put  on  any 
frills,"  as  he  said,  merely  because  he  was  the  Captain's 
son. 

The  first  trouble  in  the  voyage  was  when  Cap'n  Dan'l 
found  that  there  was  not  a  hogshead  of  sugar  in  St.  Kitts 
for  him  to  carry  away.  Two  steamers  had  taken  it  all 
the  week  before,  and  there  was  nothing  for  him  to  do  but 
sell  his  merchandise  and  go  to  some  other  island.  There 
was  plenty  of  sugar  at  Porto  Rico,  he  heard;  and  the 
Murij  D.  was  soon  bowling  over  the  Caribbean  Sea  tow- 
ard San  Juan,  the  capital  of  that  Spanish  island,  a  port 
which  Cap'n  Dan'l  had  never  visited  before. 

The  schooner  was  not  far  off  Santa  Cruz  when  one 
morning,  just  before  daylight,  there  came  a  series  of  ter- 
rible crashes  as  though  the  vessel's  sides  were  being  stove 
in. 

"  We've  been  run  down!"  Dan  shouted;  and  in  a  mo- 
ment he  and  all  the  others  who  were  in  their  berths 
sprang  to  the  deck. 

But  they  saw  that  they  could  not  have  been  run  down, 
for  no  other  vessel  was  in  sight,  though  the  crashing 
continued. 

"It's  wreckage,"  Cap'n  Dan'l  announced;  and  the 
schooner  was  hove  to  until  daylight  showed  them  that 
they  had  run  into  an  acre  or  more  of  heavy  mahogany 
planks,  probably  a  deck-load  thrown  from  some  vessel 
in  distress  —  clear  straight-sawed  mahogany  planks  that 
Cap'n  Dan'l  reckoned  would  be  worth  about  six  dollars 
apiece  in  Boston. 

This  was  a  great  find;  and  the  Mary  D.  lay  to  until 
every  plank  in  sight  was  safely  piled  on  her  deck.  There 
were  542  of  them;  and  Dan  was  wild  with  delight  to 
think  of  the  three  thousand  dollars  extra  profit  the 
schooner  would  make  on  his  first  voyage  in  her.  But 
those  planks  were  very  important  things  in  Dan's  life. 
If  it  had  not  been  for  the  planks  the  Mary  D.  would  not 
have  got  into  trouble  in  Porto  Rico,  and  Dan  would  not 
be  the  hero  that  he  is  in  Stonington. 

"Did  ever  anybody  see  such  a  lot  of  forts!  And  such 
solid  ones!"  Dan  exclaimed,  as  the  schooner  rounded  into 
the  beautiful  landlocked  harbor  of  San  Juan.  "That 
biggest  one  they  call  the  Castle,  do  they?  The  Spaniards 
must  consider  this  a  very  valuable  place,  for  they  guard 
it  well.  What  is  that  little  boat  that's  coming  out  to  us?" 

"I  don't  know,"  Cap'n  Dan'l  replied,  "  but  I  can  make 
a  pretty  safe  guess.  I  think  that's  the  custom  -  house 
officer;  and  he'll  not  find  much  when  he  getshere,  either." 

The  Mary  D.  reached  the  spot  marked  on  the  chart 
"anchorage  for  sailing  vessels,"  about  a  mile  across  the 
water  from  the  city  wharves;  and  her  anchor  had  hardly 
been  let  go  before  the  uniformed  custom  -  house  man 
climbed  aboard. 

Cap'n  Dan'l  is  a  careful  man  with  his  ship's  papers, 
and  he  had  them  in  his  coat  pocket  all  ready  for  inspec- 
tion —  the  official  papers  showing  that  the  American 
schooner  Mary  D.,  Daniel  Coffin,  master,  had  sailed  from 
St.  Kitts  for  San  Juan  in  ballast.  Dan  managed  to  be 
within  earshot  of  the  inspector,  for  he  was  anxious  to 
learn  all  the  forms. 

"Ha!  in  ballaste!"  he  heard  the  inspector  exclaim, 
after  a  glance  at  the  papers.  The  Spaniard  had  picked 
up  a  little  English  from  boarding  English  ships.  "  In 
ballaste.  But  zese !  but  zese !"  and  as  he  spoke  he  stepped 
up  to  a  pile  of  planks  and  slapped  it  with  his  hand. 


"Yes,"  Cap'u  Dan'l  smilingly  answered;  "fine  lum- 
ber that;  don't  grow  much  up  our  way  that  kind  o'  wood. 
We  picked  them  planks  up  adrift  about  forty-five  mile 
sou'  by  west  of  Santa  Cruz — 542  of  'em.  Great  streak  of 
luck,  wa'n't  it?" 

"  But  zey  are  not  on  ze  manifest,"  the  inspector  cried. 
"  Ze  ship  is  cleared  in  ballaste,  and  you  come  into  ze  port 
with  a  deck-load  of  lumber." 

( 'ap'n  Dan'l  explained  again  that  the  lumber  had  been 
picked  up  adrift  after  he  left  his  last  port,  so  it  could 
not  possibly  be  named  in  the  manifest;  but  the  inspector 
was  working  himself  into  such  a  state  of  excitement  that 
it  was  impossible  to  understand  him.  It  was  evident, 
however,  that  he  was  ordering  Cap'n  Dan'l  to  go  with 
him  at  once  to  the  custom-house,  which  he  did,  another 
customs  officer  being  called  on  board  to  guard  the  schooner. 

Dan  and  the  rest  of  the  crew  wondered  what  such  a 
strange  performance  meant,  but  they  could  learn  nothing 
until  Cap'n  Dan'l  returned.  An  hour  or  more  passed, 
and  when  the  Captain  stepped  on  deck  again  it  was  plain 
that  something  worried  him.  He  walked  rapidly  up  and 
down  the  starboard  side,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and 
his  hat  pulled  well  down  over  his  eyes — and  the  crew  all 
knew  that  when  Cap'n  Dan'l  did  that  they  might  look 
out  for  squalls.  He  kept  it  up  so  long  that  at  length 
Dan  went  up  to  him. 

"  What's  the  matter,  father?"  he  asked.  "Any  trouble 
on  shore?" 

"Trouble!"  Cap'n  Dan'l  exclaimed,  without  pausing  in 
his  walk.  "Trouble!  It's  the  worst  scrape  I've  ever  got 
into,  and  I've  seen  some  pretty  tough  ones.  They're  going 
to  take  the  schooner  away  from  me;  that's  all." 

"Take  the  schooner  away  from  you!"  Dan  repeated. 
"  B.ow  can  they  do  that?" 

"By  their  pesky  Spanish  laws  that  of  course  I  knew 
nothing  about,"  Cap'n  Dan'l  replied.  "And  it's  all 
through  them  planks,  too.  It's  the  law  here,  my  lad,  so 
they  tell  me,  that  a  vessel  comin'  into  the  port  must  bring 
just  exactly  what  her  manifest  calls  for;  no  more  and  no 
less.  If  she  brings  more  or  less,  she's  fined  two  hundred 
dollars.  Now,  our  manifest  calls  for  nothing,  because 
we  started  from  St.  Kills  in  ballast;  and  we're  fined  for 
havin'  this  deck-load  of  lumber." 

"Well,  that's  not  worth  worrying  over,"  Dan  inter- 
rupted. "The  planks  are  worth  over  three  thousand 
dollars ;  and  if  the  fine  is  only  two  hundred  dollars,  we're 
still  pretty  well  ahead." 

"  You  don't  understand  the  case,"  Cap'n  Dan'l  answer- 
ed. "The  fine  is  on  each  separate  piece  of  cargo  not  on 
the  manifest.  They  count  each  plank  a  separate  piece; 
and  as  there's  542  planks,  the  fine  is  542  times  two  hun- 
dred dollars  or  $108, 400  all  told— about  six  times  the  value 
of  the  schooner  and  planks  together.  They've  seized  the 
vessel,  and  they'll  sell  everything  we  have  towards  pay- 
ing the  fines." 

"It  can't  be!"  Dan  declared;  "there's  some  mistake. 
No  country  would  have  such  an  unjust  law  as  that." 

But  Cap'n  Dan'l  knew  what  had  been  told  him  in  the 
custom-house,  and  knew  that  his  schooner  had  been  seized. 
He  could  think  of  nothing  better  to  do  than  lay  the  case 
before  the  American  consul  and  ask  his  advice;  and  he 
was  preparing  to  go  ashore  for  that  purpose  when  the 
consul  came  out  in  his  own  boat. 

"It  is  a  very  hard  case,"  Dan  heard  the  consul  say. 
"  We  have  such  cases  often,  but  not  on  such  a  large  scale. 
There  is  nothing  that  I  can  do  except  to  take  care  of  you 
and  your  crew  and  send  you  home.  I  can  protect  you, 
but  I  cannot  keep  them  from  selling  your  vessel.  You 
would  be  entirely  justified  in  hoisting  sail  and  running 
out  of  the  harbor,  but  you  cannot  do  it;  there  are  too 
many  forts  and  gunboats  for  that.  In  ten  days  they  will 
sell  your  schooner  and  planks." 

"  Ten  days,"  Dan  said  to  himself.     "Then  we  have  ten 


DECEMBER  18,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


115 


days  in  which  to  get  out  of  the  scrape.  And  Cap'n  Dan'l's 
the  man  will  find  a  way  out,  unless  I  am  much  mistaken." 

But  Dan  was  very  much  mistaken,  for  before  five  days 
had  passed  Cap'n  Dan'l  was  in  a  violent  fever,  and  was 
out  of  his  head  in  the  cabin.  The  loss  of  his  schooner 
meant  almost  financial  ruin  to  him ;  and  it  was  a  disgrace, 
he  thought,  for  a  Yankee  skipper  to  be  caught  in  such  a 
trap.  Fortunately  the  mate  had  studied  medicine  in  his 
younger  days,  and  he  was  able  to  take  care  of  the  Captain; 
but  he  was  not  willing  to  give  much  hope  for  Cap'n 
Dan'l's  recovery  unless  he  could  be  taken  out  of  that  hot 
and  unhealthy  harbor. 

"I  think  you're  a  little  under  the  weather  yourself, 
Dan,"  the  mate  said.  "You  sit  up  there  in  the  bow  look- 
ing at  the  scenery  without  saying  a  word  to  anybody. 
You  must  know  every  buoy  in  the  harbor  and  every 
fort  on  shore  by  this  time,  from  the  way  you  watch 
them." 

"  It  is  very  handsome  scenery,"  Dan  answered;  "and 
the  scrape  we're  in  doesn't  make  me  feel  like  talking." 

For  three  days  more  matters  remained  in  the  same  un- 
comfortable state  on  the  Mary  D. — Cap'n  Dan'l  delirious 
in  the  cabin,  the  custom-house  man  constantly  011  board, 
young  Dan  growing  nervous  and  impatient,  and  the  crew 
beginning  to  grumble.  In  two  days  more  the  schooner 
would  be  taken  from  them  and  sold;  and  what  was  worse, 
Cap'n  Dan'l  showed  no  signs  of  improvement. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  eighth  day  there  came  in- 
dications of  a  storm.  The  sky  grew  dark,  and  the  wind 
clouds,  scurrying  past  the  mountain  peaks,  showed  that 
a  blow  was  coming.  The  approaching  storm  seemed  to 
give  new  life  to  Dan.  He  left  his  favorite  perch  in  the 
bow,  and  mingled  cheerfully  with  the  crew.  He  sniffed 
the  breeze,  and  tightened  the  strap  around  his  waist,  and 
the  old  straw  hat  tilted  a  little  to  one  side. 

When  the  storm  came  in  earnest,  just  before  dark, 
young  Dan  called  the  mate  aside. 

"Mr.  Barnes,"  he  said,  "I  think  this  storm  has  come 
to  save  my  father's  life  and  release  the  schooner.  I've 
been  watching  for  a  storm}'  night,  and  I  began  to  think 
one  would  never  come.  If  you  are  willing  we  can  run 
the  schooner  out  of  the  harbor  to-night,  and  then  let  them 
catch  us  if  they  can." 

"I'm  afraid  it  can't  be  done,  Dan,"  the  mate  replied. 
"  Look  at  the  forts  011  shore;  and  here's  the  custom-house 
man  on  board;  and,  worst  of  all,  there's  the  iron  gunboat 
lying  at  the  harbor's  mouth  with  steam  always  up.  We're 
too  closely  watched  to  escape.". 

"  I  have  everything  planned,"  Dan  persisted,  "and  if 
you  give  your  consent  we  can  take  the  schooner  out  of 
this  harbor  to-night.  I  have  studied  the  place  for  days, 
and  I  know  the  harbor  as  I  never  knew  a  harbor  before 
in  my  life.  It  was  not  scenery  I  was  looking  at  from 
the  bow,  but  forts  and  buoys.  Saving  the  schooner  is  a 
great  object,  but  saving  father's  life  is  a  much  greater." 

This  last  argument  had  more  effect  than  any  other 
upon  the  mate,  and  Dan  unfolded  the  plan  he  had  laid. 
Mr.  Barnes  went  forward  and  had  mysterious  talks  with 
several  members  of  the  crew,  and  an  hour  later  Dan  knew 
what  it  meant  when  he  saw  two  long  spars  hoisted  out 
of  the  hold  and  laid  on  deck,  for  that  was  part  of  the  plan 
he  had  proposed.  A  lithe  young  sailor  was  selected  to 
spring  suddenly  upon  the  Spanish  custom-house  man  in 
the  cabin  and  pinion  his  arms  behind  him.  That  part  of 
the  work  was  soon  done,  and  the  officer  was  left  lying, 
securely  tied,  upon  the  cabin  floor,  safe  but  uncomfortable. 

"Now  for  the  spars,"  Dan  whispered.  He  was  excited 
enough  by  this  time,  but  all  the  talking  was  done  in  low 
tones.  "Sink  their  butt  ends  in  the  mud  close  along- 
side, and  hang  our  harbor  lights  on  them.  Then  the 
Spaniards  won't  know  we're  gone." 

It  was  a  well  contrived  plan,  for  when  the  cables  were 
cut  and  the  schooner  moved  away  under  a  jib  and  double- 


reefed  mainsail,  with  all  her  other  lights  extinguished, 
the  lighted  spars  showed  that  she  was  apparently  in  her 
old  place. 

The  mate  of  course  took  the  wheel,  but  he  kept  Dan 
close  by  his  side,  for  Dan  had  the  buoys  and  lights  all  at 
his  fingers'  ends.  He  was  useful,  too,  to  run  forward 
and  repeat  the  mate's  orders  in  a  low  voice. 

Past  the  first  light  the  schooner  fled  through  the  black- 
ness and  rain,  guided  not  only  by  the  beacon,  but  by  the 
lights  of  the  city;  then  hard  up  and  hard  down,  in  and 
out  among  the  buoys,  port  and  starboard,  until  the  great 
castle  was  off  the  starboard  bow.  Past  the  outer  light- 
house, past  the  powder-ship,  with  her  red  lanterns,  then 
abreast  of  the  gunboat,  with  her  fifty  lights.  A  single 
shot  from  the  gunboat  might  have  sent  the  Mary  D. 
to  the  bottom;  but  in  that  black  storm  the  schooner 
passed  unseen,  and  in  a  minute  more  she  was  in  the 
open  sea. 

"If  ever  a  lad  saved  a  schooner,  Dan,  you've  saved 
this  one,"  the  mate  said,  seizing  Dan's  hand  and  squeez- 
ing it.  "It  was  all  your  work,  for  I  had  made  up  my 
mind  that  the  thing  couldn't  be  done.  And  I  feel  safe 
enough  about  Cap'n  Dan'l  now;  when  he  finds  we're  at 
sea  and  the  schooner  safe,  he'll  soon  pick  up." 

Dan  had  felt  as  bold  as  a  lion  while  the  danger  lasted, 
but  now  that  it  was  over  he  was  all  in  a  tremble.  If 
they  had  been  discovered,  he  thought,  they  would  cer- 
tainly have  been  sunk  or  captured,  and  then  what  a 
condition  his  sick  father  would  have  been  in. 

"  I  only  planned  it  out,  sir;  you  did  all  the  work,"  he 
modestly  replied.  And  then,  to  escape  any  more  compli- 
ments, he  went  up  forward  among  the  crew  and  fell  to 
work. 

"Lower  away  the  gig,"  the  mate  soon  ordered,  "and 
keep  the  schooner's  nose  dead  north,  while  I  look  after 
the  Spaniard." 

In  a  moment  he  emerged  from  the  cabin  with  the 
custom-house  man,  from  whom  he  had  cut  the  ropes. 

"  Now,  friend,  choose  quick,"  the  mate  said.  "  There's 
a  boat  you  can  row  yourself  ashore  in  if  you  like  to  take 
the  chance.  Otherwise  you're  bound  for  Boston,  as  sure 
as  you're  alive." 

The  man  did  not  understand  the  words,  but  the  situa- 
tion was  clear  enough.  He  climbed  into  the  boat,  and 
long  before  he  could  reach  shore  the  schooner,  still  in  to- 
tal darkness,  was  miles  away  on  the  inky  sea,  safe  from 
pursuit. 

Inside  of  two  weeks  the  Mary  D.  ran  into  Boston  Har- 
bor, her  542  planks  safe  in  the  hold,  and  Cap'n  Dan'l 
sitting  up  in  the  cabin,  weak,  but  recovering.  The  Cap- 
tain's eyes  grew  moist  when  he  heard  the  mate  shout: 

"Now,  boys,  all  together,  with  a  will.  Three  cheers 
for  home,  and  three  more  for  young  Dan  Coffin.  If  it 
hadn't  been  for  him  we'd  not  'a'  brought  the  schooner 
back !" 


FRITZ    AND    HIS  PUZZLE. 

FRITZ  is  a  beautiful  brown-eyed  boy 
Running  over  with  fun  and  joy. 

Now  and  then  his  questions  bother 

His  beautiful,  youthful  brown-eyed  mother. 

"I  wish,"  she  said,  one  day  last  week, 
"Dear  Fritz,  I  wish  you  would  let  me  speak." 

But  Fritz  had  a  number  of  things  to  say, 
And  he  prattled  and  rattled  and  lisped  away 

Till  she  said,  "My  boy,  if  it's  not  unkind, 

Do  try  for  a  while  your  own  business  to  iniud." 

The  brown  eyes  fell  with  a  puzzled  droop, 
The  small  mouth  puckered  itself  in  a  loop. 

"I  fink,"  said  Fritz,  in  a  tone  resigned — 
"I  fink  I  have  no  business  to  mind!" 


LIFE-BLOOD    OF    A    GREAT    CITY. 


GETTING    INTO    AND    OUT    OF    NEW    YORK. 

BY    JULIAN     RALPH. 


BEFORE  I  tell  how  visitors  come  into  and  go  out  of 
New  York,  I  should  make  clear  to  the  reader  the  size 
of  the  majestic  army  of  men,  women,  and  children  that 
marches  into  the  metropolis  from  our  wharves  and  de- 
pots every  day.  Nowhere  that  I  have  been  able  to  think 
of  looking  or  inquiring  can  I  find  any  records  or  esti- 
mates that  are  so  complete  as  to  enable  me,  or  any  one, 
to  say  with  any  positiveness  just  what  is  the  extent  of 
our  floating  population.  Ten  years  ago  it  had  long  been 
the  custom  to  say  that  of  tourists,  foreigners,  shoppers, 
and  wage-earners,  something  like  250,000  souls  came  here 
everyday.  Perhaps  that  estimate  was  too  high  at  that  time ; 
certainly  it  is  too  low  now.  We  know  that  about  130,000 
persons  cross  the  Brooklyn  Bridge  every  day,  and  that 
about  100,000  railway  passengers  come  and  go  over  the 
tracks  in  the  Pennsylvania  and  Grand  Central  de- 
pots. Cut  those  figures  in  half  to  represent  the  move- 
ment one  way,  and  we  have  the  sum  of  115,000  daily  vis- 
itors by  those  three  gates  alone.  We  know  that  500,000 
passengers  come  here  each  year  on  foreign  steamers — or 
1400  a  day — but  there  are  only  3000  foreign  steamers  as 
against  1700  domestic  steamers,  14,000  sailing  ships,  150 
steam  passenger-boats,  and  28  ferry  lines— the  last  bring- 
ing the  wage-earners  who  work  in  New  York  for  the  sup- 
port of  nearly  2,000,000  persons  living  in  the  immediate 
suburbs  of  the  city.  Of  all  who  come  by  these  routes 
there  is  no  record  whatsoever,  and  of  23  railwavs  that 
empty  their  trade  into  this  city,  I  have  mentioned  only 
the  business  of  those  terminating  at  two  depots — the  two 
very  great  depots. 

It  is  a  part  of  the  hopelessness  of  the  task  for  the  read- 
er to  remember  that  even  if  we  had  figures  to  represent 
the  passenger  traffic  of  all  these  lines  of  commerce,  they 
would  be  very  incomplete.  They  would  not  include  the 
great  force  of  men  who,  as  officers  and  sailors,  man  the 
vast  navy  that  floats  into  our  port  from  the  ocean,  nor 
the  working  force  on  the  ten  times  larger  home  flotilla 
of  domestic  boats,  which  includes  hundreds  of  fruit  ships, 
2000  small  sailing  craft,  1000  steamers  and  steamboats, 
1000  canal-boats  and  lighters,  most  of  which  are  manned 
by  non-residents,  yet  bring  their  crews  here  for  greater 
or  lesser  periods  of  time  every  day. 

Of    all  who   come  — foreigners,  American   travellers, 


wage -earners,  merchants  whose  homes  are  in  the  sub- 
urbs, shopping  women,  school  children,  and  the  rest — 
my  guess  is  that  the  sum  reaches  a  mass  of  more  than 
300,000  persons  daily,  or  more  persons  than  live  in  Cin- 
cinnati or  San  Francisco.  Of  all  the  persons  we  would 
see  if  we  looked  down  on  this  city  from  a  balloon,  one  in 
every  six  would  be  found  to  have  his  home  somewhere 
else.  Of  all  who  make  up  the  daily  swarm  on  Broad- 
way and  the  equally  dense  crowds  around  the  ladies'  shop- 
ping stores,  one  in  every  three  would  be  a  person  from 
some  other  city.  And  downtown,  among  the  wholesale 
storehouses  and  banks  and  brokers'  offices  and  shops,  I 
should  not  wonder  if  every  other  man  and  woman  we  see 
and  deal  with  would  be  found  to  live  on  Long  Island, 
Staten  Island,  New  Jersey,  or  up  the  Hudson. 

The  most  interesting  among  the  experiences  of  all  those 
who  come  here  is  that  of  the  immigrants.  They  come 
like  cattle,  herded  in  the  holds  of  ships,  and  then  penned 
in  a  great  house  on  Ellis  Island,  and  separated  into 
groups  —  this  group  for  this  railroad,  that  group  for 
the  other  railroad — a  helpless,  confused  huddle  of  for- 
eigners tied  to  their  babies  and  bundles,  and  awakening 
in  the  minds  of  all  kindly  folks  who  see  them  a  blending 
of  pity  and  amazement.  The  pity  is  for  their  helpless- 
ness, and  the  amazement  is  as  to  what  kind  of  homes  they 
must  have  left  in  Europe,  and  as  to  how  they  can  have 
mustered  the  courage  to  come  so  far  into  a  new  and  strange 
land. 

The  transatlantic  ships  come  in,  and,  after  the  favored 
cabin  passengers  have  been  landed,  great  barges  are  warped 
alongside  to  receive  the  immigrants  and  their  trunks  and 
bundles.  By  these  barges  they  are  sent  to  Ellis  Island — 
the  new  Castle  Garden— where  they  are  examined  ac- 
cording to  our  laws.  It  must  be  proved  that  they  are 
not  helpless  invalids  likely  to  be  a  charge  upon  our  peo- 
ple, that  they  are  not  contract  laborers  hired  to  come  here 


AT   THE    GRAND    CENTRAL    STATION. 


DECEMBER  18,  1S94. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


117 


and  work  cheaper  than 
our  own  people,  that  they 
are  not  paupers  or  beg- 
gars, or  wicked  folk  out 
of  foreign  prisons. 

While  they  are  hud- 
dled on  the  barges,  and 
again  in  the  new  Castle 
Garden,  the  officials  move 
among  them  and  look 
them  over,  and,  in  time, 
they  are  marched  past  the 
desks  of  examiners  who  speak  many  languages,  and  ques- 
tion them  closely  about  their  means  and  plans  and  past 
lives.  The  fairest  way  to  judge  these  immigrants  is  not 
by  their  appearance  or  surroundings  on  the  ships,  but  by 
what  the  great  mass  of  those  who  are  already  here  have 
done  for  themselves  and  for  this  country.  When  we 
think  of  the  States  they  have  built  up,  of  their  ambitious 
homes,  of  their  industry  and  thrift,  we  are  able  to  see 
that  the  herding  on  the  ships,  is  merely  the  last  of  the 
life  they  are  leaving,  and  that  the  beautiful  scene  that 
greets  them  when  they  enter  our  splendid  harbor  is  sug- 
gestive of  the  grand  and  splendid  opportunities  that  this 
land  of  liberty  spreads  out  before  them. 

As  cities  go,  New  York  is  an  easy  place  to  get  into  and 
out  of.  It  is  long  and  narrow,  and  has  only  a  few  main 
avenues,  side  by  side,  leading  from  where  the  ocean  steam- 
ers and  most  of  the  ferries  come  in,  to  the  northern  end, 
where  the  island  is  joined  to  the  mainland.  A  dozen 
great  avenues  running  lengthwise  along  the  island,  ahd 
another  dozen  side  streets  leading  to  ferries,  are  all  the 
streets  that  a  stranger  is  likely  to  concern  himself  with. 
Along  four  of  the  lengthwise  avenues  run  the  lines  of 
the  elevated  steam  railway,  which  is  so  built  as  to  con- 
nect with  all  these  two  dozen  principal  streets.  It  does 
the  greatest  business  of  any  railway  in  the  world.  It  has 
carried  more  than  800,000  passengers  in  a  day,  and  an- 
nually transports  about  300,000.000  souls.  This  elevated 
railway,  built  upon  tall  iron  stilts  in  the  principal  streets, 
in  great  part  takes  the  place  that  is  occupied  by  cabs  in 
most  of  the  other  capitals  of  the  world.  Our  strangers, 
who  would  call  a  cab  at  home  and  have  it  carry  their 
trunks  and  themselves  from  depot  to  hotel,  or  vice  versa, 
simply  give  their  baggage  to  a  transfer  express  company, 
and  themselves  take  "the  elevated"  or  the  horse-cars 
that  run  under  it  on  the  same  avenues.  A  great  deal  of 
fault  is  found  with  New  York  because  its  cab  service  is 
poor  and  expensive,  but  the  reason  for  this  is  that  the 
city  is  so  easy  to  understand  and  so  well  supplied  with 
street  railways  that  only  a  few  rich  strangers  and  a  few 
rich  residents— not  enough,  altogether,  to  pay  for  a  fine 
cab  system — feel  the  want  of  those  exclusive  conveyances 
without  which  strangers  would  be  absolutely  at  sea  in 
London,  Paris,  or  Berlin. 

New  York  used  to  stand  like  a  highwayman  in  the  path 
of  all  who  tried  to  get  past  it.  It  stopped  every  one  in 
whose  onward  path  it  lay,  as  Chicago  still  does,  and  made 
him  change  cars,  and  get  out  and  pay  expressage  if  not 
hotel  fare.  But  now  the  comparatively  small  number  of 
persons  who  are  bound  from  the  farther  East  to  the  West, 
or  in  the  opposite  direction,  can  accomplish  the  journey 
either  by  crossing  the  Hudson  at  other  points,  or  by  being 
carried  around  the  metropolis  upon  great  floats  which 
convey  whole  trains  of  cars  from  the  Westchester  shore 
(lying  next  to  New  England)  around  the  island  to  the 
Western  railways  that  terminate  on  the  New  Jersey 
shore. 

In  these  days,  too,  passengers  can  leave  Saratoga,  and, 
by  means  of  the  West  Shore  tracks  on  the  New  Jersey 
side  of  the  Hudson,  can  go  to  Long  Branch  or  Asbury 
Park  without  changing  cars.  Baggage  and  freight  are 
also  carried  between  Philadelphia  or  Chicago  and  Boston 


1  -  A  A  fm^-  "  W^'-^ 


P-  m 


CROSSING    THE    RIVER   TO    OTHER    RAILROADS. 


and  back,  and  between  Saratoga  and  the  South,  without 
change  of  cars;  and,  by  means  of  one  of  the  twenty-eight 
ferries,  the  people  of  the  West  can  go  to  Brooklyn  and 
Brooklyn  folks  can  go  to  Chicago,  San  Francisco,  01*  even 
Asia,  without  setting  foot  on  Manhattan  Island.  But 
these  exceptional  routes  are  really  irregularities. 

A  prime  feature  in  the  business  of  receiving  and  dis- 
missing our  visitors  is  our  hotel  system,  which  now 
comprises  no  less  than  a  thousand  establishments. 
There  are  scores  of  first-class  hotels,  200  second-class 
ones,  and  literally  hundreds  of  resorts  of  lower  grades. 
We  have  no  means  of  estimating  the  capacity  of  these 
places  of  shelter,  but  they  must  possess  accommodations 
for  nearly  100,000  persons.  Our  theatres  are  said  to  seat 
70,000.  For  the  more  complete  convenience  of  those  who 
stop  at  the  best  hotels  stages  are  run  to  the  through-line 
trains,  and  the  system  of  baggage  transferrence  that  has 
grown  up  here  is  managed  so  that  one's  belongings  can 
be  relied  upon  to  be  wherever  they  are  wanted  at  the  time 
the  passenger  wishes  to  check  them  upon  a  further  jour- 
ney in  any  direction.  Just  as  the  postal  transfer  wagons 
take  the  through  mails  from  the  depots  to  the  post-office 
and  thence  out  again  to  the  steamships  or  the  other  rail- 
way depots,  so  do  the  baggage  transfer  wagons  deal  with 
the  baggage. 

It  is  indeed  a  wonderful  sight  to  see  the  regiments  and 
battalions  of  strangers  and  visitors  that  are  emptied  by 
boats  and  trains  into  this  city  early  on  every  week-day 
morning.  Just  as  the  great  Brooklyn  Bridge  is  black 
with  thousands  in  cars  and  on  foot,  the  huge  boats  from 
New  England  and  from  up  the  Hudson  discharge  their 
thousands,  and  at  the  same  time  the  principal  through 
trains  from  the  East,  South,  and  West  are  disgorging  their 
loads  of  humanity.  The  ferry-boats  also,  weaving  to  and 
fro  like  shuttles  in  a  loom,  are  emptying  great  black 
throngs  of  toilers  and  tourists  along  the  river  front.  We 
might  well  wonder  what  is  to  become  of  all  these  extra 
cityfuls,  what  will  happen  to  the  street-cars  that  they  ex- 
pect to  take,  what  room  can  be  made  for  all  of  them  in 
the  houses  and  hotels;  but  even  as  we  look  they  dis- 
appear. They  melt  like  snow  that  falls  upon  warm 
ground;  they  dry  up  like  mist  in  the  sunshine;  they  seem 
to  sift  among  the  usual  crowds  and  disappear.  Our  motto 
is  not  like  that  of  the  old  'bus  drivers — "there  is  always 
room  for  one  more."  But  as  we  have  seen  on  great  fes- 
tival days  and  when  we  have  offered  fetes  of  pageantry, 
there  is  alwavs  room  for  another  million. 


118 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


AFLOAT  WITH  THE   FLAG." 


r,v    w.  j.  HENDERSON. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 
CAPTAIN   LOCKWOOD'S   WARM   RECEPTION. 

EDGE  her  off  toward  the  point  yonder,  Peter, "said 
Harold.  "We  must  not  be  seen  from  the  decks 
of  any  of  our  ships.'' 

"  Werry  good,  sir,  but  that  are  a  course  w'ich  '11  keep 
the  tug  out  o'  the  Ai//ii<l<il></n's  range." 

"Never  mind  that.  We  can  go  ashore  if  we're  hard 
pressed." 

The  chase  now  became  exciting.  The  tug  was  gaining 
on  the  three  small  boats,  and  was  firing  rapidly.  Shots 
were  falling  all  around  the  boats,  but  fortunately  none 
struck  them.  The  course  which  Harold  had  indicated 
was  gradually  placing  a  point  of  the  island  of  Engeuha 
between  the  fugitives  and  the  rebel  war-ships. 

"I'm  afraid  you've  missed  it,  Hal,"  said  George. 
"They're  gaining  on  us." 

At  that  moment  the  Brazilians  in  Frank's  boat  gave  a 
cheer,  and  the  light  cruiser  Trajano  was  seen  moving 
out  from  her  anchorage  behind  the  point.  She  fired  two 
shots,  and  the  government  tug  turned  tail  and  puffed 
away  toward  the  city.  The  boys  shook  hands  and  sepa- 
rated, Frank's  crew  pulling  leisurely  back  to  the  Aquid- 
aban,  while  the  two  cadets  made  a  wide  detour  and  ap- 
proached the  American  fleet  from  another  quarter. 

About  the  same  time  a  fat  brown  rooster  poked  his 
head  out  of  a  coop  on  the  deck  of  a  vessel  flying  over 
the  sea  toward  Rio.  and  loosed  a  lusty  crow. 

"  Cat's  a  "berry  fine  woice  yo's  got,  chile,  but  yo'  don't 
sing  no  moah  in  dese  hyah  latitoods." 

And  Kibo,  the  cook,  plunged  his  arm  into  the  coop 
and  dragged  the  struggling,  squawking  victim  forth. 

"Hi  yah!  He  bully  fat!"  exclaimed  Kibo.  And  then 
lie  began  to  sing: 

"  Hoop  te  loo  loo !     Wat's  de  mattah  ? 

Flap  yo'  wings  an'  kick  yo'  feet ; 
Frv  'im  in  (It-  !_'rcasr  an'   battali ; 
Cracky!  but  liim  good  to  eat!" 

"Belay  that  jaw  tackle  there,  you  blathering  heathen, 
and  get  at  your  foul-smelling  cookery!" 

Captain  Lockwood's  voice  scraped  along  the  deck  with 
a  rumble  like  a  chain  cable.  His  land  manners  had 
slipped  from  him  like  an  old  wrapper,  and  he  was  a  sturdy, 
deep-chested,  hump-shouldered  old  sea-dog,  with  a  blazing 
red  face  and  a  jolly  gray  eye.  He  balanced  himself  oil 
his  columnar  legs,  and  from  a  station  near  the  foot  of  the 
mizzen-mast  he  let  his  gaze  slowly  roam  over  the  swelling 
curves  of  white  canvas  that  towered  away  through  double 
tops  and  top  gallants  to  the  naked  royal-yards.  The 
fresh  breeze  abeam  was  heeling  the  Alma  down  till  the 
water  boiled  and  hissed  around  her  lee  channels.  The 
long  South  Atlantic  surges  were  tossing- their  hoary  heads 
high  in  air  as  they  raced  down  upon  the  bark,  and  ever 
and  anon  as  she  plunged  down  a  foaming  steep  she 
would  hurl  a  sheet  of  green,  water  into  shivers  of  smoky 
spray  across  her  forecastle-deck. 

"Oil,  she's  a  sweet  lady  to  smoke  through  it,  isn't  she, 
Minnie?''  said  the  Captain,  as  his  daughter  appeared  on 
deck. 

"Yes,  indeed,  papa.     What  is  she  making?"- 

"A  good  twelve,  I'll  be  bound,"  said  the  skipper,  tak- 
ing a  squint  over  the  side. 

"  Twelve  it  is,  sir,  by  the  last  heave,"  said  the  mate. 

"It's  simply  glorious,"  exclaimed  Minnie. 

The  girl  looked  a  picture  of  healthy  enjoyment.  Her 
«  Begun  in  HARPER'S  YODNO  PEOPLE  No.  784. 


•wavy  hair  streamed  in  pretty  disorder  around  her  well- 
taniied  chocks.  :md  her  eyes  sparkled  like  stars. 

"We  must  be  raising  the  land  pretty  fast  at  that  gait," 
said  the  Captain. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  mate.  "You  can  see  it  plain 
enough  from  the  forecastle." 

Land  had  been  sighted  some  time  before,  and  the  hark 
was  ratching  along  with  the  Brazilian  mountains  peering 
over  the  sea  under  her  lee  bow. 

"But  we'll  have  to  clew  up  our  top-gallants  if  this 
breeze  freshens  any,"  said  the  skipper.  "There's  a  bit 
too  much  weight  in  that  sea." 

"Oh,  I  hope  not!"  said  Minnie.  "I  love  to  see  the 
bark  lie  down  to  her  work  and  toss  the  spray  this  way. 
She  seems  to  be  alive." 

"That's  a  real  sailor's  daughter,"  said  the  mate,  laugh- 
ing. 

"By  faith,  she'd  carry  the  masts  out  of  a  ship  if  she 
was  the  captain,"  said  her  father,  smiling.  "Clew  up, 
Mr.  Ball;  we'll  do  as  well  under  shorter  canvas." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir,"  said  the  mate,  and  the  next  minute  he 
was  bawling  orders  that  caused  the  two  roaring  stretches 
of  canvas  away  aloft  to  fold  their  white  wings.  The 
bark  was  now  on  an  easier  keel,  but  she  seemed  to  go 
quite  as  fast  ;  and  within  three  hours  she  had  Flora 
Point  on  her  starboard  bow. 

"Oh,  how  wonderful!  How  glorious!"  exclaimed 
Minnie,  as  she  stood,  with  clasped  hands  and  parted  lips, 
gazing  at  the  rich  green  mountain  slopes. 

"I  knew  you'd  like  it,"  said  the  Captain.  "I'm  glad 
I  brought  you,  Minnie." 

"So  am  I,"  she  answered. 

Captain  Lockwood  pointed  out  to  her  the  various  beau- 
ties of  the  harbor,  the  forts  and  the  islands,  as  the  bark 
under  shortened  canvas  sailed  slowly  past  Fort  Lage. 
The  vessel  was  full  of  the  busy  rattle  of  blocks  as  the 
men  made  her  ready  for  coming  to  anchor. 

"Yonder  lies  Villegaignon  Island,"  said  the  Captain. 
"We'll  run  pretty  close  along  there,  and  you'll  get  a 
good  look  at  the  fort.  Let  her  luff  a  little !" 

"  Luff  it  is,  sir,"  answered  the  man  at  the  wheel. 

The  bark  glided  under  the  walls  of  the  fort,  and  sud- 
denly a  voice  rang  across  the  water, 

"Keep  off!" 

Captain  Lockwood  sprang  to  the  weather  -  rail  and 
shouted:  "What's  the  matter?  Are  we  doing  any 
harm  ?" 

His  reply  was  a  puff  of  smoke,  followed  by  the  sharp 
crack  of  a  rifle,  and  a  bullet  whistled  across  the  deck. 

"  Go  below,  Minnie!"  exclaimed  the  Captain,  thrusting 
his  daughter  toward  the  cabin-door.  Then  he  sprang  011 
the  rail  and  bellowed.  "You  miserable  scoundrel!  I'll 
make  your  rebel  skin  sweat  for  this!" 

A  derisive  laugh  rang  out  from  the  caissons,  and  an- 
other shot  was  fired,  the  bullet  this  time  cutting  a  small 
round  hole  in  the  tack  of  the  spanker. 

"Well,  this  beats  the  Dutch!"  exclaimed  Captain 
Lockwood,  as  the  bark  slipped  out  of  range  on  her  way 
up  the  bay. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  the  mate,  "that  the  rebels  are 
running  things  in  a  pretty  high-handed  style  down  here." 

"  I  should  say  so.  But  you  can  make  up  }-our  mind 
to  one  thing,  Mr.  Ball." 

"Yes,  sir;   what's  that?" 

"I'll  not  sit  still  and  be  shot  at  on  my  own  peaceable 
decks.  I'll  carry  this  business  to  somebody  that  '11  have 
a  word  to  say  about  it  if  I  have  to  go  all  the  way  to 
Washington." 

"  I'.iii-k  ahoy!" 

"Hello!     What  now?" 

A  tug  manned  by  insurgents  ran  alongside,  and  Cap- 
tain Lockwood  was  informed  that  he  would  have  to  an- 
chor his  vessel  out  in  the  bay  and  lighter  his  cargo  ashore. 


DECEMBER  18,  1894. 


HARPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


119 


He  was  told  that  any  attempt  to  take  his  vessel  to  one 
of  the  city  wharfs  would  call  forth  fire  from  the  insur- 
gents. 

"  Well,  this  is  about  as  big  an  outrage  as  I  ever  met 
with!"  stormed  the  Captain. 

"You  understand?"  called  the  insurgent. 

"Oh  yes,  I  understand,"  answered  Captain  Lockwood. 
"But  I'm  going  to  obey  under  protest." 

The  insurgent  replied  to  the  effect  that  he  did  not  care 
a  pinch  of  snuff  about  the  protest.  All  lie  desired  was 
obedience. 

"  Well,  I'm  going  to  apply  to  your  Admiral  the  first 
thing  to-morrow  for  permission  to  go  to  a  wharf,"  shout- 
ed the  Captain.  "  I  have  been  fired  on  by  your  people, 
and  that's  a  piece  of  cowardice." 

The  insurgent  intimated  that  calling  his  friends  cow- 
ards did  them  no  harm,  and  that  Admiral  da  Gama  would 
probably  decline  to  see  the  Captain  of  the  bark  Alma. 

"We'll  see  about  that  to-morrow,"  answered  the  Cap- 
tain. "Get  away  from  alongside  now,  and  give  me  room 
to  bring  my  bark  to  anchor." 

With  jeering  laughter  ringing  from  her  decks  the  in- 
surgent tug  steamed  away,  and  Captain  Lockwood  roared 
in  a  voice  of  thunder: 

"  Ciew  up  the  fore  and  main  tops'ls!  Haul  down  the 
jib!  Haul  out  the  spanker!  Down  with  your  helm!" 

A  few  minutes  later  the  crashing  rattle  of  the  cable 
passing  through  the  hawse-hole  told  that  the  Alma  had 
come  to  anchor  in  six  fathoms,  half  a  mile  to  the  north- 
ward and  westward  of  Cobras  Island. 

CHAPTER     XIV. 
MIGHT  AGAINST   RIGHT. 

THE  next  morning  was  cloudy  and  sultry,  and  Captain 
Lockwood,  after  a  quick  survey  of  the  heavens,  expressed 
it  as  his  belief  that  there  would  be  a  tropical  thunder- 
storm before  midnight. 

"  Look  to  our  starboard  anchor,  Mr.  Ball,  and  see  all 
ready  to  let  go,"  he  said,  "for  these  squalls  come  very 
suddenly  and  blow  very  hard  in  Rio  Harbor." 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Ball.  "  A  pair  of  mudhooks 
make  a  good  storm  stays'l,  they  do." 

"And  see  my  boat  is  in  shipshape  order,  Mr.  Ball, "con- 
tinued the  Captain.  "  I'm  going  to  do  myself  the  honor 
of  making  a  call  on  Admiral  da  Gama  this  morning." 

"  There's  a  maii-o'- war's  boat  a-comiu'  sir,"  said  a 
sailor. 

"With  the  American  flag  flying,"  added  the  Captain, 
picking  up  his  glass  and  levelling  it.  "Why,  it's  Hal 
King  and  George  Briscomb." 

The  two  boys  were  soon  aboard  the  bark,  and  explained 
how  they  had  obtained  permission  to  call  on  their  friends. 

"  Have  you  seen  Frank?"  asked  Minnie,  anxiously. 

"Yes,"  answered  Harold,  and  then  he  proceeded  to  give 
a  complete  account  of  their  meeting  with  their  friend, 
and  their  conversation  with  him  about  Robert. 

"That  makes  it  all  the  more  necessary  that  I  should 
get  the  bark  alongside  a  city  wharf  where  I  can  be  in 
easy  communication  with  the  government  officials,"  said 
Captain  Lockwood.  "  I've  got  to  see  this  boy  that  de- 
serted from  the  Tamandare,  and  if  it's  Robert,  I  must 
get  him  out  of  this  service  and  home.  I  don't  care  to 
stay  in  Rio  Harbor  any  longer  than  I've  got  to  after  my 
reception." 

The  boys  looked  at  him  inquiringly. 

"Oh,  you  haven't  heard  about  it,  eh?"  he  asked,  and 
then  he  told  them  the  story  which  aroused  them  to  a 
state  of  indignation.  They  feared,  however,  that  no- 
thing would  be  accomplished  by  a  visit  to  the  insurgent 
Admiral. 

"But  it's  worth  trying,  sir,"  said  Hal.  "It  would  be 
a  dreadful  thing  if  the  American  fleet  had  to  enforce 


your  demand,  for  we  should  have  to  fight  against  Frank 
and  he  against  your  rights.'' 

"This  is  going  to  be  a  serious  business  before  we're 
through  with  it,"  said  the  Captain ;  "  but  I  owe  a  duty  to 
my  fellow  mariners,  and  if  it  comes  to  a  question  between 
my  son  and  my  nephew,  why,  Frank  must  play  second 
fiddle." 

After  a  little  further  conversation  the  boys  departed, 
having  assured  Captain  Lockwood  that  they  would  give 
him  every  assistance  in  their  power  in  the  search  for  his 
son.  The  Captain  paced  the  deck  for  half  an  hour  in 
deep  thought,  and  then  spoke  in  a  decisive  manner. 

"I  shall  go  to  this  insurgent  Admiral,  and  put  my 
case  plainly  to  him." 

"But  you  won't  tell  him  about  Robert?"  said  Minnie. 

"No,  that  wouldn't  do.  But  I  must  get  to  a  wharf. 
Mr.  Ball,  get  my  boat  alongside." 

The  order  was  obeyed,  and  in  a  few  minutes  Captain 
Lockwood  was  speeding  across  the  bay  behind  four 
sturdy  oarsmen  of  his  crew.  The  flag  of  Admiral  da 
Gama  had  been  transferred  to  the  wooden  corvette  Liber- 
tade,  and  Captain  Lockwood  took  his  boat  alongside  her 
starboard  accommodation  ladder,  where  he  was  received 
with  considerable  surprise  by  the  tall  dark -skinned 
marine  on  sentry  duty.  Nevertheless  he  was  permitted 
to  board  the  ship,  while  his  boat  was  sent  to  lie  at  the 
boom.  The  officer  of  the  deck  sent  a  messenger  to  in- 
form the  commanding  officer  of  the  Captain's  desire. 
In  a  few  minutes  the  man  returned  and  said  that  the 
Admiral  would  seethe  American  Captain.  Entering  the 
cabin  of  the  Libertade,  Captain  Lockwood  found  himself 
in  the  presence  of  a  keen-eyed,  saturnine  man,  with  a 
set,  inexpressive  countenance.  He  was  sitting  bolt-up- 
right behind  a  table,  with  both  hands  resting  upon  it  at 
arm's  length.  His  air  and  attitude  were  full  of  super- 
cilious conceit,  and  Captain  Lockwood  could  scarcely 
forbear  to  smile. 

"To  what  do  I  owe  the  honor  of  this  visit?"  asked  the 
Admiral,  speaking  with  a  slight  accent  and  a  sneering 
manner. 

"  I  have  come,  sir,"  replied  Captain  Lockwood,  calmly, 
"to  ask  your  permission  to  lay  my  bark  alongside  one 
of  the  city  wharves.  Discharging  cargo  by  the  aid  of 
lighters  is  a  very  expensive  business,  as  you  must  know, 
sir." 

"  I  do  know,"  said  the  Admiral,  bowing  slightly,  "  but 
you  must  discharge  your  cargo  that  way.  I  cannot  grant 
your  request." 

"May  I  ask  why?" 

"  Yes.  You  cannot  lie  at  a  wharf  without  being  in 
my  line  of  fire.  I  must  be  free  to  fire  upon  the  city 
when  I  choose  without  danger  of  injuring  foreign  ships 
and  so  embroiling  myself  with  foreign  powers." 

"  But — pardon  me,  Admiral — don't  you  think  you  are 
just  as  likely  to  get  yourself  into  trouble  by  preventing 
vessels  from  landing?" 

"I  have  prevented  them,  and  no  trouble  has  come," 
said  the  Admiral,  with  a  cold  smile.  "I  shall  continue 
to  do  so." 

"By  what  right?" 

"By  the  right  which  I  have  created,"  answered  Ad- 
miral da  Gama,  impressively.  "  The  navy  of  Brazil  has 
thrown  off  the  yoke  of  the  tyrant  Peixoto,  and  is  fight- 
ing for  the  freedom  of  the  land.  Here,  upon  the  water, 
our  war-ships  are  the  supreme  ruling  power.  My  plans 
must  not  be  disturbed,  and  I  shall  not  permit  them  to  be." 

"Then  your  right  is  simply  might." 

"  Call  it  that,  if  it  pleases  you." 

Captain  Lockwood  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then 
he  said,  "  Was  it  by  your  orders  that  my  bark  was  fired 
upon  in  entering  the  harbor?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  Admiral,  smiling. 

"  I  protest  against  it  as  an  outrage." 


120 


HARPER'S  YOUNG   PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


'YOU   MISERABLE  SCOUNDREL!     I'LL   MAKE   YODR   REBEL   SKIN    SWEAT    FOR   THIS!" 


"You  may  protest  till  you  are  hoarse,  sir,  but  it  will 
be  in  vain.  I  have  established  a  blockade  over  the  water- 
front of  Rio  de  Janeiro,  and  the  shots  were  fired  simply 
as  a  warning.  They  could  not  have  harmed  you.  They 
were  blank  cartridges.'' 

"I  never  before  heard  the  whistle  of  a  bullet  follow 
the  discharge  of  a  blank  cartridge." 

"  All  imagination,"  said  the  Admiral,  hastily.  "  There 
were  no  bullets— though  I  cannot  say  what  might  happen 
if  you  attempted  to  go  to  the  wharf." 

"  And  I  understand  that  this  is  a  threat?" 

"  I  do  not  threaten  merchantmen,"  replied  Admiral  da 
Gama,  coldly.  ''  I  order  them,  and  they  obey." 

"I  deny  your  right  to  order  me." 

"Your  denial  will  not  help  you,  sir.  Understand  once 
and  for  all  that  you  are  forbidden  to  take  your  vessel  to 
a  wharf,  and  that  if  you  do  attempt  it  you  will  be  stopped 
by  my  ships." 

"  I  thank  you,  sir,  for  the  politeness  with  which  you 
have  received  me,  and  for  the  plainness  with  which  you 
have  stated  your  intentions.  I  shall  tell  you  mine  with 
equal  plainness." 

"  I  shall  be  deeply  interested  in  hearing  them,"  said 
the  Admiral,  with  chilly  irony. 

"I  am  going  to  appeal  to  Admiral  Stanton,  of  the 
American  fleet,  for  protection." 

"I  am  sorry  to  tell  you  that  you  are  too  late.  Ad- 
miral Stanton  is  a  most  charming  gentleman,  but  his  ex- 
treme politeness  has  led  to  his  return  to  his  native  land." 

"  He  has  gone  home?" 

"  Exactly — at  the  urgent  request  of  the  paternal  gov- 
ernment at  Washington.  Admiral  Stanton  is  a  sailor, 
and  when  he  meets  another  Admiral  afloat  he  salutes.  He 
saluted  my  flag  when  he  entered  this  harbor,  and  the  gov- 
ernment at  Washington,  fearing  to  offend  the  powerful 


potentate  whom  I  have 
shut  up  in  yonder  city 
like  a  rat  in  a  trap,  in- 
vited him  to  return  to 
the  bosom  of  his  fam- 

iiy." 

"Then,  sir,  I  shall 
appeal  to  the  senior 
oflicer  of  our  fleet." 

"  Captain  Picking,  of 
the  Charleston,"  said 
the  Admiral,  with  a 
smile;  "  another  charm- 
ing gentleman,  who  will 
do  nothing  whatever  for 
you." 

"How  do  you  know 
that?" 

"The  Americans,  I 
am  told,  play  a  game 
of  cards  called  'poker,' 
in  which  it  is  consider- 
ed clever  to  try  to 
alarm  your  adversary 
by  bluster  —  bluffing, 
you  call  it,  is  it  not? 
Yes?  The  fleet  which 
lies  at  anchor  over  there 
is  an  example  of  your 
American  bluff.  Those 
ships  will  not  hurt  me." 
"  Admiral  da  Gama, 
sooner  or  later  my  bark 
is  going  to  a  wharf  or 
going  to  the  bottom,  and 
I  with  her." 

"  Well,  Captain,  you 
will  find  the  water  quite 

warm    and    comfortable  even   at   a  depth    of    ten    fath- 
oms." 

The  Admiral  arose,  indicating  that  the  interview  was 
at  an  end.  Captain  Lockwood  bowed  very  stiffly,  and 
turning  on  his  heel,  strode  out  of  the  cabin?  He  marched 
over  the  side  and  down  the  ladder,  and  dropped  into  the 
stern  sheets  of  his  boat,  now  alongside,  with  a  sort  of  em- 
phatic thud.  "Shove  off  there,"  he  said.  "Get  your 
oars  overboard,  you  Scandinavian  kings;  no  man-o'-war 
flubdubbery  about  it,  either.  Give  way  together  now, 
heartily,  lads.  Lift  her,  lift  her." 

At  that  same  hour  the  bronzed  young  man  who  had 
been  languishing  in  the  prison  up  in  the  hills  back  of  Rio 
was  engaged  in  cutting  away  the  stone  around  the  top 
of  one  of  the  bars  that  guarded  the  window.  "  I  suppose 
the  geese  don't  know  I'm  a  Yankee,"  he  muttered,  "  or 
they  wouldn't  leave  me  alone  here  with  only  three  iron 
bars  and  an  eight-foot  jump  between  me  and  liberty.  I'll 
give  them  a  lesson  they'll  not  forget." 

He  worked  away  diligently,  and  half  an  hour  later  he 
easily  removed  the  bar.  "Now,"  he  said,  "  here  goes  for 
better  luck." 

He  was  about  to  squeeze  himself  out  through  the  open- 
ing, when  the  door  opened  and  his  jailer  entered.  With 
a  shout  the  man  dashed  forward.  The  boy  sprang  back 
from  the  window  and  seized  the  iron  bar  which  he  had 
just  removed.  With  all  his  force  he  brought  it  down  on 
the  man's  head,  and  the  jailer  fell  senseless.  The  next 
minute  the  boy  climbed  out  on  the  window  sill,  and  with 
a  convulsive  spring  caught  the  limb  of  a  tree.  In  a  few 
seconds  he  descended  to  the  ground. 

"  Free !"  he  exclaimed ;  "  free !"  Then  he  set  off  through 
the  woods  at  a  run. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


THE     LITTLE     RED     BOOK. 


BY    ELLEN    DOUGLAS    DELANO. 


CHAPTER    III. 

fTIHE   next  day,  Tuesday,  Mrs.  Barnes   and    her 


J_  daughters  were  sitting  at  luncheon,  when  the  door- 
bell rang,  and  Eleanor  Rogers's  voice  was  heard  asking 
for  Miss  Ruth.  Then,  instead  of  coming  directly  to  the 
dining-room,  as  would  have  been  the  case  ordinarily,  El- 
eanor walked  into  the  parlor  and  waited. 

"How  formal  she  is  getting  to  be!"  said  Ruth,  laugh- 
ing, as  she  rose  from  the  table.  "Madge,  what  is  the 
trouble  ?" 

"How  do  I  know  ?"  returned  Madge,  stiffly.  "You 
can  ask  her." 

"What  has  happened,  Madgie?"  asked  Mrs.  Barnes  when 
Ruth  had  left  the  room.  "  I  hope  that  you  and  Eleanor 
have  not  quarrelled." 

Madge  said  nothing. 

"You  know,  I  am  very  fond  of  Eleanor,"  continued 
her  mother.  "I  consider  her  the  very  nicest  little  girl 
in  Durham." 

"There!  that's  just  it!"  burst  out  Madge.  "She's  too 
nice  for  me,  such  a  proper  little  Miss  Prim !  I  don't  want 
to  have  anything  more  to  do  with  her." 

"Why,  Margaret,"  said  Mrs.  Barnes,  "I  am  perfectly 
astonished!     Not  only  that  you  should  speak  to  me  in 
such  a  manner,  but  that  you  should  speak  so  of  your 
most    intimate    associate 
and  friend." 

It  meant  a  good  deal 
when  Madge  was  called 
"Margaret"  by  her  mo- 
ther. 

"Well,  I  can't  help  it. 
And  she's  not  my  most 
intimate  friend;  Bertha 
Weld  is,  and  always  will 
be.  Eleanor  is  so  terri- 
bly virtuous,  she  can't  do 
anything  that's  any  fun." 

"I  thought  you  al- 
ways found  Eleanor 
ready  for  anything  in 
the  way  of  a  good  game 
or  play.  I  think  you 
must  have  been  doing 
something  very  extraor- 
dinary if  she  would  not 
join  you — something  you 
ought  not  to  have  been 
doing." 

Madge  made  no  reply 
to  this,  but  continued  to 
eat  her  lunch  in  silence. 
After  a  little  while  the 
front  door  closed  and 
Ruth  came  back. 
"Madge,"  she  said,  "El- 
eanor came  to  tell  me 
that  she  cannot  be  Cin- 
derella, and  she  wants 
you  to  take  the  part. 
What  does  it  mean?" 

"How  do  I  know?" 
asked  Madge,  sulkily. 

"You  do  know  some- 
thing about  it,  and  you 
must  explain." 

"I don't  know  a  thing. 
I  haven't  spoken  to  Elea- 
nor since  Saturday,  and 
then  she  was  going  to  be 


Cinderella.  How  do  I  know  what  has  made  her 
two  change?  Because  she  is  changeable,  I  suppose." 

"Nonsense !  Eleanor  is  not  at  all  changeable.  You  are 
thinking  of  yourself.  Now  there  is  some  mystery  at  the 
bottom  of  this,  and  I  am  bound  to  get  at  it."  Ruth's  eyes 
snapped,  and  her  pretty  face  looked  very  determined  as 
she  turned  to  her  mother.  "Eleanor  will  not  give  me 
any  reason  for  her  decision,  except  that  she  knows  every 
one  thinks  that  Madge  will  do  it  better,  and  she  is  as  firm 
as  a  rock.  She  says  she  will  not  act  the  part,  and  Madge 
must  take  it." 

"  Well,  as  she  is  so  determined,  you  had  better  give  in," 
said  Madge.  "I  would  just  as  lief  he  Cinderella." 

"  Just  as  lief?  I  should  think  so.  You  have  wanted 
to  be  Cinderella  from  the  first,  but  it  is  utterly  out  of 
the  question.  In  the  first  place,  I  would  never  dream  of 
taking  it  away  from  Eleanor  and  giving  it  to  you ;  and, 
besides,  there  is  not  time  for  you  to  learn  your  part. 
Fancy,  this  is  Tuesday,  and  the  play  is  to  be  Thursday! 
Mamma,  what  shall  I  do  about  it?  Eleanor  went  off 
perfectly  determined  that  she  would  not  do  it.  There  is 
some  trouble  at  the  bottom  of  it,  for  she  looked  so  sad, 
and  I  could  see  that  it  was  just  as  much  as  she  could  do 
to  keep  from  crying.  And  yet  she  would  give  me  no 
reason  for  it.  It  is  not  at  all  like  her." 


'THUEE    CHEEKS    FOR   ELEANOR    ROGERS,  TUB    BEST    CINDERELLA." 


122 


HAEPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


"  I  think  you  had  better  see  Mrs.  Rogers,"  replied  her 
mother.  "  Perhaps  she  will  explain." 

"So  I  will.  It  is  most  provoking  to  have  this  hap- 
pen at  the  last  minute.  Madge,  I  can't  help  thinking 
you  know  something  about  it." 

"I  don't,  Ruth,  you  horrid  old  thing!  You  think 
just  because  you  are  twenty-one  years  old  you  can  order 
me  around  and  blame  me  for  everything.  I  tell  you — 

"Margaret,  go  at  once  to  your  room,  and  do  not  leave 
it  this  afternoon.  I  quite  agree  with  Ruth  that  you  have- 
some  clew  to  Eleanor's  strange  behavior.  Once  for  all, 
do  you  know  why  she  has  done  so?" 

"No,  mamma,  I  don't.  So  there,  now!"  said  Madge, 
as  she  walked  out  of  the  room.  "And  I  don't,''  she 
added  to  herself  as  she  went  up  stairs,  stumbling  occa- 
sionally because  of  the  angry  tears  in  her  eyes.  "Of 
course  Bertha  has  done  something,  but  I  don't  know 
what  it  is,  so  it  is  the  truth.  I  wish  she  hadn't,  though, 
for  Ruth  will  never  give  in,  and  it's  all  for  nothing. 
And  now  I  have  to  stay  up  here  all  the  afternoon,  instead 
of  going  to  see  Bertha.  It's  all  that  horrid  old  Eleanor's 
fault !" 

Ruth  went  to  see  Mrs.  Rogers  that  afternoon,  and  they 
had  a  long  talk.  What  she  learned  she  told  no  one  but 
her  mother:  but  the  result  must  have  been  satisfactory. 
from  the  expression  of  her  face.  She  was  very  indig- 
nant about  something,  but  evidently  had  discovered  a 
means  of  solving  the  mystery  and  straightening  the 
matter. 

Four  o'clock  on  Wednesday  afternoon  was  the  hour 
appointed  fora  rehearsal  of  Cinderella  at  the  Athenaeum, 
but  on  Wednesday  morning  Ruth  Barnes  sent  out  by 
the  coachman  a  number  of  notes  requesting  the  various 
members  of  the  company  to  be  there  at  half  past  three. 
One  of  these  notes  went  to  every  one  but  Eleanor  Ro- 
gers. She  alone  was  left  in  ignorance  of  the  change  of 
hour,  and  as  the  other  girls  did  not  receive  the  news  of  it 
until  they  returned  from  school,  she  heard  nothing  of  it. 

Every  one  was  interested  in  the  play,  and  full  of  antici- 
pation, so  all  arrived  promptly  at  half  past  three,  ready 
and  anxious  to  begin  to  rehearse  at  once.  Ruth,  how- 
ever, asked  them  all  to  sit  down,  as  she  wished  to  speak 
to  them  first.  There  were  about  fifteen  present,  for  in 
addition  to  the  principal  characters  in  Cinderella  there 
were  those  who  were  to  act  as  guests  at  the  ball,  as  ser- 
vants and  heralds,  the  prompter,  and  the  boys  who  were 
to  manage  the  curtain. 

When  they  were  all  seated  Ruth  looked  about  the 
stage.  She  was  exceedingly  self-possessed,  and  she  did 
not  in  the  least  mind  making  a  little  speech  to  such  an 
audience,  who  were  all  wondering  what  was  coming. 

"  I  am  looking  to  see  if  you  are  all  here,"  began  Ruth, 
after  a  moment's  pause,  "  and  I  think  no  one  is  absent 
but  Eleanor  Rogers.  I  did  not  expect  her  to  be  here  at 
this  hour,  as  I  purposely  sent  her  no  notice  of  the  changr 
of  time.  I  am  anxious  to  consult  you  all  about  a  little 
matter  connected  with  her,  and  it  seemed  better  that  she 
should  not  be  present." 

There  was  a  little  murmur  of  astonishment  and  a  rustle 
of  interest.  Then  the  place  was  silent  again,  and  every 
one  waited  for  Ruth  to  continue. 

"Eleanor  came  to  see  me  yesterday  in  order  to  tell  me 
that  she  could  not  take  the  part  of  Cinderella.  She 
would  give  no  reason  for  her  decision  except  that  every 
one  thought  my  sister  Madge  would  do  it  better.  Now 
I  myself  think  Eleanor  does  the  part  exceedingly  well, 
and  I  have  never  had  any  reason  to  suppose  that  all  did 
not  agree  with  me.  Is  it  not  so?  What  do  you  think 
about  it?" 

Here  came  a  chorus  of  approval. 

"She  does  it  splendidly!" 

"No  one  could  do  it  better." 

"We  all  think  so!" 


Ruth  glanced  quickly  and  keenly  from  one  to  the  other. 
She  noticed  that  Bertha  and  Madge  alone  remained  silent, 
and  that  Bertha  looked  distinctly  annoyed. 

"You  almost  all  seem  to  be  of  one  mind, "said  Ruth, 
when  the  clamor  of  voices  had  somewhat  subsided,  "and 
that  makes  the  affair  all  the  more  mysterious.  As  I  said, 
I  could  get  no  further  explanation  from  Eleanor,  so  I 
went  to  see  Mrs.  Rogers,  and  from  her  I  learned  that 
Eleanor  had  received  a  letter  which  had  induced  her  to 
give  up  the  part.  I  have  the  letter  here,  and  I  will  read 
it  to  you." 

She  drew  the  letter  from  her  pocket,  and  read  it  aloud. 
All  listened  with  breathless  interest. 

"There  is  no  signature  to  it.  which  makes  it  all  the 
worse.  There  is  no  greater  coward  than  a  person  who 
will  deign  to  write  au  anonymous  letter  of  this  kind. 
Evidently  he  or  she  is  very  much  afraid  of  being  found 
out.  This  is  what  it  said: 

"  '  Do  you  think  it  is  right  or  kind  for  you  to  keep  the 
part  of  Cinderella?  Every  one  but  you  thinks  you  ought 
to  give  it  to  Madge  Barnes.  You  ought  to  insist  upon 
her  taking-  it.  It  is  the  universal  opinion  that  Madge 
could  do  the  part  better  than  you,  and  she  would  cer- 
tainly make  a  prettier  Cinderella  on  account  of  her  hair. 
It  is  surprising  that  you  have  not  found  out  before  what 
all  the  girls  are  thinking  about  it.'  " 

When  Ruth  ceased  speaking  there  was  a  perfect  out- 
burst of  indignation.  Every  one  talked  at  once,  and  all 
started  from  their  seats  and  crowded  about  her,  asking 
questions,  wishing  to  see  the  letter,  wondering  who  could 
have  written  it. 

Bertha  Weld  was  one  of  the  most  vehement.  "Who 
ever  heard  of  such  a  thing?"  she  exclaimed,  loudly. 
"  How  perfectly  dreadful !" 

Ruth  was  watching  her,  and  she  knew  it.  She  felt 
very  nervous,  but  was  determined  to  brave  the  matter 
out  and  avoid  suspicion.  She  had  never  dreamed  that 
her  so-called  "joke"  would  turn  out  in  this  way. 

Madge  said  nothing.  She  was  too  honest  by  nature  to 
attempt  to  carry  off  the  affair  as  Bertha  was  doing.  She 
understood  now  what  Bertha  had  meant  when  she  said 
she  would  bring  about  the  change,  and  Madge  was  very 
much  ashamed  of  the  means  she  had  employed  to  do  so. 

In  the  midst  of  the  hubbub  Eleanor  herself  arrived. 
She  was  immediately  surrounded  and  led  to  Ruth,  the 
girls  all  chattering  at  once.  She  looked  at  them  in 
astonishment. 

"  What  is  the  matter?"  she  asked.  "  Am  I  late?  Ruth, 
I  am  so  sorry,  but  I  know  my  new  part  perfectly." 

"  New  part !"  exclaimed  May  Brewster.  "  Listen,  girls ! 
She  thinks  she  is  going  to  take  a  new  part." 

"Three  cheers  for  Eleanor  Rogers,  the  best  Cinderella 
that  ever  sat  in  the  ashes!"  shouted  Ned  Brewster. 

The  cheers  were  given  with  such  a  will  that  the  roof  of 
the  Athenaeum  rang,  and  the  town  clerk,  the  librarian,  and 
the  janitor  came  running  to  see  what  was  the  matter. 

"  Oh,  it's  only  them  the-atre  folks !"  said  the  janitor,  in 
disappointed  tones. 

As  for  Eleanor,  she  was  too  much  overcome  to  speak. 
The  tears  stood  in  her  big  brown  eyes,  and  her  lip  trem- 
bled. It  had  cost  her  a  great  effort  to  give  up  being 
Cinderella,  and  now  to  hear  that  they  all  wanted  her  to 
keep  the  part  was  too  good  to  be  true. 

"But  Madge!"  she  whispered  to  Ruth;  "she  wants  to 
be  Cinderella  so  much  !" 

At  this  moment  Madge  came  within  hearing. 

"No,  I  don't,"  she  said.  "It  is  too  much  bother  to 
change.  Besides,  I  wouldn't  be  for  anything  now,  they 
all  want  you  so  much!" 

The  tone  was  not  very  cordial,  but  it  was  decided.  The 
other  girls  crowded  up. 

"  I  would  just  like  you  to  know  that  I  didn't  write  that 
letter,  Eleanor!" 


DECEMBER  18,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


123 


"Nor  I!     Nor  I!"  echoed  the  others. 

"  What  do  you  know  about  the  letter?"  asked  Eleanor, 
still  more  astonished. 

"Oh, I  brought  the  letter!"  said  Ruth  Barnes,  smiling 
at  Eleanor's  mystification.  "You  can't  keep  things  from 
me,  Nell,  when  I  once  set  out  to  discover  them.  But 
now  we  must  begin  the  rehearsal,  for  we  want  this  play 
to  be  the  success  of  the  evening.  I  really  think  I  am 
more  anxious  to  have  this  one  go  off  well  than  the  other 
with  the  'grown-ups,'  though  I  am  going  to  act  in  that 
myself." 

Bertha  Weld's  feelings  at  the  result  of  her  machina- 
tions may  readily  be  imagined.  There  was  nothing  for 
her  to  do  now,  however,  but  to  endeavor  to  hide  them. 
She  would  not  for  the  world  have  it  known  that  she  was 
the  author  of  the  anonymous  letter.  But  her  rage  at 
Eleanor  grew  apace.  She  was  also  very  angry  with  Ruth 
Barnes  for  having  settled  the  affair  in  such  a  way,  and 
she  determined  to  do  something  yet  that  would  turn 
Eleanor  into  ridicule,  and  make  the  play  a  failure. 

It  was  strange.  A  week  ago  Bertha  had  no  especial 
feeling  against  Eleanor  except  that  of  jealousy  because 
she  was  Madge's  most  intimate  friend.  Now  it  seemed  as 
if  she  had  never  disliked  any  one  so  much  in  all  her  life, 
and  yet  Madge  and  Eleanor  had  quarrelled,  and  Bertha 
herself  was  the  favored  friend. 

"Of  course  it  is  because  we  found  out  that  about 
Eleanor  in  Mrs.  Brewster's  diary,"  said  Bertha  to  herself, 
as  she  thought  over  the  matter.  "  It  is  because.  Eleanor 
and  her  mother  are  both  hypocrites.  It  is  not  because 
Eleanor  is  from  an  orphan  asylum.  Of  course  I  would 
not  mind  just  that;  I  am  not  so  snobbish.  If  they  had 
been  honest  and  told  it,  it  would  have  been  all  right.  It 
is  because  they  are  hypocrites.  I  detest  hypocrisy." 

And  Bertha  drew  herself  up  wilh  a  very  virtuous  air. 
She  did  not  take  the  trouble  to  remember  that  Eleanor 
was  said  to  know  nothing  of  the  secret  of  her  origin. 
Neither  did  it  occur  to  her  that  she  was  troubling  herself 
vei^  unnecessarily  about  other  people's  affairs.  She  re- 
peated her  view  of  the  subject  to  Madge  as  they  walked 
home  from  the  rehearsal  together. 

"I  think  people  ought  to  be  told,"  said  Bertha,  with  a 
wise  nod.  "  They  little  know  what  queer  people  are 
living  here.  Every  one  is  so  sorry  for  Mrs.  Rogers  and 
Eleanor,  because  they  used  to  be  rich,  and  now  Mrs. 
Rogers  has  to  give  lessons.  For  my  part,  I  don't  think 
they  are  to  be  pitied  at  all.  Yes,  I  think  people  ought 
to  be  told." 

"Oh,  Bertha.  I  don't!"  exclaimed  Madge.  "It  would 
get  to  Eleanor  herself,  and  would  make  her  feel  so  badly. 
Just  think  how  terribly  it  would  make  you  feel  to  hear 
that  your  mother  wasn't  your  own  mother!  Oh,  excuse 
me,  Bertha;  I  quite  forgot!  Indeed  I  didn't  mean  to  hurt 
your  feelings." 

For  Bertha's  face  had  flushed.  She  could  not  remem- 
ber her  mother  at  all,  but  she  so  envied  all  the  other 
girls.  It  must  be  so  lovely  to  have  a  mother.  She  said 
nothing,  and  Madge  continued: 

"I  mean,  it  would  be  so  terrible  for  me  to  find  out 
that  mamma  was  not  my  own  mother.  Please  don't  tell 
it,  Bertha!" 

They  had  reached  Bertha's  gate  by  this  time.  "Well, 
I  will  see,"  she  said,  slowly.  "  Good-by,  Madge.  I'm 
awfully  sorry  you  are  not  to  be  Cinderella.  I  did  my 
best  to  get  it  for  you." 

"I  know,  Bertha.  I'm  ever  so  much  obliged;  but  I 
kind  of  wish  you  hadn't." 

"Well,  if  that  is  all  the  thanks  I  get!"  exclaimed 
Bertha. 

"Oh  no;  really  I  am  ever  so  much  obliged.  You 
were  very  good,  and  I  hope  you  will  always  be  my  most 
intimate  friend,"  said  Madge,  as  she  turned  away. 

But  the  yellow  curls  bobbed  very  soberly  as  she  slowly 


climbed  the  hill.  Madge  was  thinking  very  hard.  Her 
position  was  anything  but  satisfactory.  She  was  so 
afraid  that  Bertha  would  tell  Eleanor  what  they  had  dis- 
covered. She  wished  that  she  could  go  at  once  to  her 
mother,  confess  it  all,  and  ask  her  advice.  But  she  had 
promised  Bertha  that  she  would  not  tell  the  secret  of  the 
reading  of  the  diary.  She  would  ask  her  the  very  next 
day  to  release  her  from  this  promise. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


CHRISTMAS   DAY. 

BY  MARGARET  E.   SANGSTER. 

OF  all  dear  days  is  Christmas  day, 
Tlie  dearest  and  tbe  best ; 
Still  in  its  dawn  tlie  angels  sing 

Their  song  of  peace  and  rest. 
And  yet  the  blcssrd  <  'in  i.st-Child  comes 

And  walks  the  shining  way. 
Which  brings  to  simple  earthly  homes 
Heaven's  light  on  Christmas  day. 

Then,  deep  in  silent  woods,  tbe  trees — 

The  hemlocli,  pine,  and  tir — 
Thrill  to  the  chilly  winter  breeze, 

And  waft  a  breath  nt"  myrrh: 
And  far  and  near  Kriss  Kringle's  bells 

Their  airy  music  shake. 
And  dancing  feet  of  boys  and  girls 

A  sweeter  joyauce  make. 

The  Christ-Child  earne  to  Bethlehem, 

To  Mary's  happy  breast. 
And  found  within  her  brooding  arms 

A  warm  encircling  nest. 
And  many  a  tiny  cherub  child 

In  mother's  anus  to-day 
Smiles  like  the  Christ,  the  nndefiled, 

On  this  dear  Christmas  day- 

Tlie  Christ-Child's  mother  dimly  saw 

Tbe  cross  in  faint  outline 
Above  the  baby  face  that  held 

Her  own  in  awe  divine. 
Thus  over  little  cradle-beds 

The  sacred  passion-flower 
Its  purple  sign  of  sorrow  spreads 

In  love's  most  rapturous  hour. 

To  Mary's  feet  the  AVist;  Men  brought 

Their  gifts  of  gold  and  spice; 
The  "Gloria''  swept  the  midnight  skies 

To  greet  her  Pearl  of  Price. 
And  down  the  ladder  of  the  stars, 

Across  the  shining  way, 
The  angels  watched  the  Christ-Child  come 

That  first  dear  Christmas  day. 

Of  all  dear  days  is  Christmas  day, 

The  very  dearest  dear, 
The  crown  and  clasp  and  topmost  sheaf 

Of  all  the  joyful  year. 
Then  dancing  feet  of  boys  and  girls 

Go  gayly  to  and  fro, 
And  "Merry,  merry  Christmas"  rings 

111  all  the  winds  that  blow. 


THE   STORK  EXPRESS,  LIMITED. 

BY  BARNET  PHILLIPS. 

IT  was  a  long  flight  from  Egypt  to  the  land  where  the 
Stork's  own  boy  lived.  At  last  the  Stork  reached  that 
country,  and  rested  on  the  banks  of  the  lily-pond.  He 
was  entirely  worn  out,  and  in  bad  spirits.  He  knew  he 
had  to  run  many  risks  —  that  is,  if  he  followed  Great- 
grandma  Pelican's  advice. 

"  Oh,  my  heart  is  not  in  it!"  said  the  Stork,  with  a  sigh. 


124 


HAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


"  NOT   IN    IT,  NOT   IN    IT." 


"No,  tin  in  it. 
No,  tin  in  it,"  went 
something  in  a  sharp 
choppy  voice. 

"It's  all  for  love, 
though,"  said  the 
Stork,  reflectively. 

"Luv,  dub,  tub," 
again  went  some- 
thing or  other. 

"  How  hard  it  was 
to  take  that  long 
flight  all  alone,  with 
no  dear  child  to  talk 
to!  I  am  so  wing- 
tired  that  my  pin- 
feathers  must  be 
frayed  to  quills." 

"Squills,  squills," said  the  same  sharp  voice  again. 
"  And  no  Great-grandma  Pelican  to  comfort  me,"  con- 
tinued the  Stork,  too  much  absorbed  by  his  own  pitiable 
state  to  heed  the  interruptions. 

"Say  that  over.  Slower,  please.  I  didn't  quite  catch 
on.  Could  you  get  that  oft'  shorter?"  It  was  a  small 
black-and-taii  bird  talking  very  rapidly. 

"I  simply  remarked  that  I  had  no  Great-grandma  Peli- 
can to  care  for  me,"  replied  the  Stork. 

"Got  110  Great-grand  Pa  Melican  to  Tucker  for  me. 
Thanks.  No  use  saying  it  again.  Once  is  sufficient. 
I  am  all  right."  The  Mocking-bird  rattled  that  off 
in  a  most  self-sufficient  way,  and  jumped  up  and  down 
on  a  limber  twig,  which  gave  him  a  spring. 

"  But  you  are  all  wrong.  I  never  said  Tucker.  Pray 
what  is  Tucker?"  asked  the  Stork,  astonished. 

"Tucker?  Pooh!  Certainly  a  relative  of  old  Dan 
Tucker.  A  French  cousin,  Tuckare— to  care.  See?  Folks 
insist  I  am  accurate.  I  am  not  accurate.  Don't  want  to 
be.  Just  as  if  accuracy  amounted  to  anything.  Accu- 
rate! a-curate.  It's  all  the  same.  See?" 

"  No,  I  do  not  see,"  said  the  Stork,  much  puzzled. 
"  That  don't  suit  you?  Well,  you  are  hard  to  please," 
continued  the  Mocking-bird.  "  Maybe  you  can  under- 
stand this.  Try.  Accurate.  Accurat.  Rat,  rat,  rat.  Accu- 
niouse,  accudog,  accucat,  cat-cat-cat.  Miau,  miau,  bow- 
wow, or  wow-bow.  What's  the  difference,  eh?" 

The  Mocking-bird  seemed  to  be  excited.  He  danced, 
tilted,  teetered.  His  wings  shivered,  and  he  twitched  his 
tail. 

"I  am  scarcely  in  the  humor  to  bother  with  you,"  said 
the  Stork,  gravely.  "It  is  not  nice  of  you  to  mock  me,  I 
am  sa  unhappy." 

"  You  wouldn't  believe  it,  but  there  are  many  people 

trying  to  trap  me-me-me-me,"  said  the  bird,  abruptly. 

"  How?"  asked  the  Stork,  paying  the  strictest  attention. 

"With    snares,   horse-hair   loops,   and    figorry   fours. 

There  is  one  special  prime  idiot  ot-ot-ot.    He  goes  lugging 

around  a  brand-new  brass-wired  cage.     Just  as  if  I  didn't 

know  that  the  open  door  snaps  to  with  a  spring.     In  the 

bottom  of  the  cage  that  dunce  puts  a  sliced  hard-boiled 

egg-" 

"Do  you  like  eggs?"  inquired  the  Stork. 

"  Eggs  should  be  cooked  twenty-eight  minutes  by  the 
clock.  Then  I  adore  them.  But  what  aggravates  me 
most  are  the  silly  attempts  made  to  lure  me  by  giving  me 
free-gratis  imitations  of  birds.  They  are  such  ludicrous 
failures,  not  worth  a  cent." 

"Will  you  kindly  explain?" 

"  I  ask  you,  did  you  ever  hear  any  bird  not  in  a  lunatic 
asylum  express  himself  this  way — 'gyck'?" 

"I  never  did  that  I  can  remember,"  said  the  Stork, 
thoughtfully.  "So  they  try  to  catch  you  with  bird- 
calls?" 

"  Bird-calls!    You  flatter  those  boobies.    Do  you  fancy 


for  an  instant  that  I  reply  to  their  catcalls?     I  pay  them 
back  in  another  coin.     It's  in  every-day  English." 

"  I  can  only  talk  Stork.  Will  you  teach  me  every-day 
English?"  asked  the  Stork,  imploringly. 

Then  the  Mocking-bird  looked  at  the  Stork  from  head 
to  foot,  and  to  do  that  had  to  flutter  up  and  down  several 
times. 

"I  haven't  finished  yet;  you  interrupt  so.  They  don't 
all  try  to  catch  me.  There  is  a  sweet  little  boy  living 
around  here.  I  sing  for  him  by  the  hour.  He  is  ever 
so  nice.  He  breaks  off  little  bits  of  cake  and  throws 
them  to  me.  He  talks  to  me.  Sometimes  I  wonder  how 
much  or  how  little  he  knows  about  bird  language.  He 
has  certainly  the  real  shape  of  mouth  for  it.  It's  a 
strange  gift  that  little  boy  has." 

"  That's  my  boy,"  cried  the  Stork,  a  trifle  jealous. 

'•  How  your  boy?"  inquired  the  Mocking-bird,  bristling 
up  his  feathers.  "See  here,  you  are  cool — cool — cool." 

The  Stork  thought  it  wiser  not  to  be  too  confidential. 
"Will  you  teach  me  just  a  little  of  this  every-day  Eng- 
lish?" he  asked,  humbly.  "I  am  so  anxious  to  learn 
only  a  few  words." 

"Certainly.     Say  '  yep.'  " 

"Yep,"  repeated  the  Stork. 

"  Now  say  '  iiope.'  " 

"What's  nope?" 

"It's  what  yep  isn't.     It's  ridiculously  easy." 

"Oh!"  said  the  Stork,  terribly  impressed. 

"Another  word  you  must  learn  is  'awful.'  You 
couldn't  do  without  that,  and  'daisy.'  Having  these 
four  words,  that's  all.  Good-day."  And  the  Mocking- 
bird balanced  himself  as  if  preparing  to  fly  away. 

"Oh,  do  stop,  please.  I  want  to  learn  just  one  sen- 
tence, and  it  is,  '  Don't  you  know  me,  your  bestest  old 
Stork?'  I  will  never  forget  your  kindness  if  you  teach 
me  that  in  every-day  English." 

"What  awful  rubbish!  Here,  if  you  want  a  sentence 
that  is  a  sentence,  learn  '  Gimme  a  eel.'  That's  sense,  or, 
'  Hurry  up  with  that  minnow.'  You  can  travel  the  world 
around  on  them." 

"  Let  me  implore  you  to  teach  me  the  sentence  I  want. 
It  is  the  only  one  I  care  for." 

"  But  it  is  absurd.  '  Your  bestest  old  Stork !'  'Bestest!' 
It's  utterly  ridiculous.  Don't  bother  with  such  stuff  as 
that.  I  know  every-day  English,  and  I  assure  you  that 
that  sentence  is  the  weakest  milk-and-water  baby-talk 
I  ever  heard,  and  unbecoming  of  any  grown- up  bird. 
'Bestest'  —  ha!  ha!"  The  Mocking-bird  just  shrieked 
with  laughter. 

The  Stork  said:  "Oh,  you  don't  know,  you  can't  im- 
agine, how  much  depends  on  that  sentence!" 

"  What  an  obstinate  old  party  you  are!     Well,  let  me 
see.      'Bestest'  is 
not    English,    but 
'  asbestos '  is. 

Come,  I  will  com- 
promise on  that. 
Repeat,  then, 

'  Don't  you  know 
me,  your  asbestos 
old  Stork?'" 

The  Mocking- 
bird seemed  to 
be  quite  dictato- 
rial, so  the  Stork 
thought  it  wiser 
not  to  differ  from 
him,  for  the  fact 
was  he  did  not 
know  a  word  of 
"every-  day  Eng- 
lish. The  Mock- 
ing-bird said  the 


LODGING    THE    MOCKING-BIRD. 


DECEMBER  IS,  1894. 


HAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


125 


sentence  over  and  over 
again,  though  he  kept 
jeering  and  tittering  all 
the  time.  It  was  hard 
work  for  the  poor 
Stork,  for  all  the  time 
the  Mocking-bird  would 
fly  away,  swing  around 
a  tree,  and  come  back 
again,  so  that  it  was  dif- 
ficult to  follow  him. 

"It's  getting  awful 
tiresome,"  said  the 
Mocking-bird  when  the 
sun  was  about  setting. 
"  There  never  was  such 
REUNITED.  a  bore.  See  here,  Stork, 

as  you  have  kept  me  so 

fai-  from  my  home,  you  owe  me  board  and  lodging,"  and 
with  that  he  made  a  hop  right  on  top  of  the  Stork's  bill, 
roosted  there,  and  was  soon  sound  asleep. 

The  moon  was  away  up  in  the  starry  sky  before  the 
Stork  could  close  his  eyes.  He  kept  on  repeating  the 
sentence,  and  then  he  dreamt  it.  Just  as  the  sun  rose, 
the  Stork  felt  the  Mocking-bird  running  up  and  down  his 
bill.  When  he  awoke,  the  Stork  at  once  repeated  the 
sentence. 

"K'rect,"  said  the  Mocking-bird;    "not  quite  as  k'rect 

in   pronunciation  as  I  should  have  wished,  still   with  a 

good  deal  of  feeling  in  it.     Honest,  now,  you  are  no  Poll 

Parrot."     And  away  flew  the  Mocking-bird  through  the 

.resounding  woods. 

The  Stork  breakfasted  fairly  well  in  the  lake,  and  then 
he  bathed.  He  preened  his  feathers,  curled  his  top-knot. 
Then  he  was  as  handsome  a  bird  as  ever  was  seen.  Just 
snow  white,  with  a  little  edging  of  black  on  the  wings, 
and  a  pink  beak  and  legs.  His  heart  beat,  though,  so 
fast!  Had  the  Mocking-bird  been  fooling  him?  The 
Mocking-bird  had  said  that  he  was  inaccurate. 

The  Stork,  as  we  all  know,  is  a  confiding  bird.  He  had 
never  fooled  anybody,  and  did  not  believe  that,  after  all, 
the  Mocking-bird  had  been  humbugging  him.  Then  the 
Stork  flew  to  the  rivulet  that  emptied  into  the  lake.  He 
picked  his  ground  carefully  this  time,  and  settled  down 
where  it  was  not  marshy.  Then  he  listened  and  lis- 
tened. 

Now  he  heard  a  soft  sound  of  laughter,  like  the  ring- 
ing of  silver  bells,  and  the  Stork  saw  close  to  him  his  own 
boy.  The  Stork  was  breathless.  It  was  an  anxious  mo- 
ment. Fearlessly  the  boy  neared  the  Stork.  Apparently 
he  saw  the  Stork  at  once,  for  he  said: 

"  Poor  birdie,  won't  you  let  me  touch  you?  How  nice 
you  are!  Why  did  you  fly  away  when  I  saw  you  be- 
fore?" 

Now  came  the  supreme  moment.  "And  don't  you 
know  me,  your  bestest  old  Stork?"  said  the  Stork  in  a  whis- 
per, in  his  queer  plain  English.  Maybe  the  little  boy  did 
not  quite  make  out  the  third  word  before  the  last  one,  but 
he  understood  the  drift  of  it  all. 

"Know  you?  say  it  again  and  again.  Know  you?  I 
don't  know  anything  else.  Why,  I  have  been  dreaming 
and  dreaming  of  you,  just  as  when  I  was  ever  so  little. 
Hurt  you,  you  good  Stork?  Why,  see,  I  am  kissing  you, 
petting  you.  You  won't  melt  away?  You  have  got  to 
stay  for  good,  and  for  ever  and  ever.  Let  me  put  my  arm 
around  your  neck  to  prevent  you  from  vanishing." 

The  Stork  did  not  shrink  from  the  boy's  caresses.  You 
must  bear  this  in  mind:  the  situation  was  changed.  In 
the  past  it  was  the  Stork  who  had  been  the  protector  of 
the  infant;  now  the  boy  stood  quite  ready  and  able  to 
defend  the  Stork.  But  true  love  makes  us  all  equal,  and 
so  in  an  instant  the  Stork  lost  all  shyness.  Dear  me! 
what  a  hugging  and  a  fondling  there  was,  to  be  sure ;  and 


how  they  talked !  for,  strange  to  relate,  all  the  old  stork- 
language  had  come  back  with  a  rush  to  the  little  boy. 
The  Stork  could  hardly  reply  quickly  enough  to  the  boy's 
questions.  There  was  not  an  incident  of  the  first  journey 
that  had  not  to  be  rehearsed. 

"  You  won't  mind  my  shutting  my  eyes,  will  you,  now 
and  then,  and  pretending  it's  dark?  What  an  old  sleepy- 
head I  was  once!  You  see,  when  I  shut  my  eyes  I  pre- 
tend I  am  dreaming,  for  then  I  understand  better  what 
you  say;  and  when  I  open  my  eyes,  so  that  I  can  see 
you,  I  know  you  are  here.  Did  you  know  I  had  such  a 
dear  little  mother?  And  we  do  so  love  one  another;  but 
she  can't  fly  away  with  me,  though  I  am  sure  she  would 
if  she  could.  But  that  reminds  me.  you  never  have 
said  a  word  about  that  nice  old  squatty  bird — 

"Great-grandma  Pelican?"  said  the  Stork,  delighted. 
"  What  a  memory  you  have,  dear!" 

"  Didn't  she  smell  of  fish,  though?  I  often  dream,  toor 
of  that  fishy  smell.  Wasn't  she  good?  Didn't  she  make 
me  a  present  of  something  or  other?" 

"She  did.  She  hung  a  necklace  of  precious  beads 
around  your  neck, "  said  the  Stork. 

"That's  so;  I  remember  now.  I  didn't  dream  that.  I 
must  have  lost  them.  Maybe  the  clasp  broke.  I  have 
such  a  bad  way  of  breaking  things.  I  fancy  I  always  am 
missing  something,  and  I  think  I  have  been  hunting  that 
necklace  for  ever  so  long." 

"Don't  you  worry  over  it,"  said  the  Stork.  "  Great- 
grandma  Pelican  will  be  so  happy  when  she  hears  from 
you  that  she  will  give  you  another  string  of  beads,  and 
playthings  galore."  Then  the  Stork  and  the  boy  talked 
on  and  on  for  hours  and  hours,  and  the  Stork  prom- 
ised. . . . 

I  do  not  know  what  it  was  the  Stork  promised.  I 
wish  I  did;  but,  just  as  certain  as  can  be,  whatever  he 
promised  he  performed. 

You  see,  it  happened  such  a  long,  long  time  ago,  that  I 
should  not  be  called  upon  to  follow  out  exactly  all  that 
came  to  pass  after  the  Stork  found  his  little  boy.  Great- 
grandma  Pelican  might  give  me  the  end  of  the  story,  but 
from  one  thing  or  another  I  have  been  putting  off  my 
visit  to  Egypt.  All  I  can  wish  is  that  the  happy  dreams 
of  childhood  may  come  true. 


TEACHER.  "Oh  Bobby!  How  many  times  must  I  tell  you 
that  what  you  call  a  horse's  front  legs  are  his  fore  legs.  Wilt 
you  try  to  remember?" 

BOBBY.  "Yes'm." 

TEACHER.  "  Well,  now,  once  more  before  you  go  home,  tell  me 
how  rnauy  legs  has  a  horse  ?" 

BOBBY.  "  Six  legs." 

TEACHER.  "Six?     How  do  you  make  that?" 

BOBBY.  "  AVhy,  the  fore  legs  what's  his  front  legs,  and  the  two, 
legs  what's  his  hind  legs,  makes  six  legs." 


126 


HAKPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


GRANDFATHER'S  ADVENTURES. 

BY  PAUL  HULL. 
I.— THE    WRECKER'S    LANTERN. 

GOOD-MORNING,  grandpop,"  called  a  happy  boy- 
ish voice,  and  Ralph  Pell  stepped  out  on  the  porch 
through  the  low  parlor  window. 

Old  Captain  Sterling  swung  round,  greeting  his  fa- 
vorite grandson  with  a  pleased  look  as  he  returned  the 
salutation. 

"Oh,  I  say,  grandpop!"  exclaimed  the  lad,  "if  you 
are  in  the  humor  for  it,  won't  you  tell  me  the  prom- 
ised story  about  that  big  lantern  with  red  and  green 
shades  that  you  gave  to  Sam  to  polish  up  yesterday? 
Sam  calls  it  a  'jibber-the-kibber'  lantern,  whatever  that 
outlandish  name  means." 

"And  funny  as  it  may  sound,  Ralph,  that  is  its  right 
name,  meaning  a  wreckers'  lamp.  That  same  lantern 
came  near  being  the  cause  of  piling  my  ship  up  on  the 
rocks  off  the  coast  of  Maine.  But  sit  down  and  I'll  spin 
you  the  yarn. 

"A  number  of  years  ago  I  was  bound  from  the  West 
Indies  to  Portland.  Late  one  afternoon  we  sighted  the 
land,  after  several  days  of  foggy  weather,  and  found  that 
a  strong  current  had  set  us  well  to  the  eastward  of  our 
port,  so  I  hauled  tbe  ship  to  the  southward  and  westward, 
steering  pretty  close  to  the  shore  in  order  to  keep  clear 
of  a  thick  fog-bank  that  I  could  see  hanging  about  three 
miles  seawards. 

"That  night  the  stars  shone  bright  enough  to  be  re- 
flected in  the  calm  water,  but  there  was  no  moon,  and 
nothing  but  a  little  deeper  gloom  told  where  the  water 
ended  and  where  the  shore -line  began.  About  nine 
o'clock  we  had  Booth  Bay  light  abeam,  with  a  faint  air 
from  the  southward,  which  helped  the  fog-wall  to  creep 
in  closer  and  closer  to  the  land  until  it  was  almost  upon 
us.  However,  I  had  made  up  my  mind  not  to  hug  the 
coast  any  closer,  when  the  mate  called  my  attention  to  a 
vessel's  red  light  'way  in  shore  of  us.  By  the  distinctness 
and  color  of  the  light  it  was  plain  to  us  that  a  large  ves- 
sel was  heading  the  same  way  as  ourselves.  A  few  min- 
utes later  the  edge  of  the  fog- bank  crept  across  the  deck. 

"  'Well,  Mr.  Porter,'  I  said  to  the  mate,  '  what  do  you 
think  of  standing  in  a  little  closer  so  as  not  to  be  swal- 
lowed up  in  this  confounded  mass  of  vapor?' 

'  'I  think,  sir,'  the  mate  answered,  'that  we  would  be 
perfectly  safe  to  do  it.  That  vessel  there  is  all  of  a  mile 
iii-shore  of  us.' 

"So  I  edged  in-shore  as  the  fog  advanced,  but  always 
kept  well  outside  of  the  red  light  that  I  supposed  to  be 
burning  on  the  port  side  of  another  vessel. 

"  Suddenly  there  was  a  slight  grating  sound  along  the 
bottom  of  the  ship,  then  a  tremor,  and  the  way  ceased. 
"We  were  ashore.  But  still  the  red  light  moved  slowly 
ahead  on  our  starboard  beam.  I  had  been  decoyed  by  a 
wrecker  carrying  a  colored  lantern  along  the  shore,  which 
now  showed  quite  distinct. 

"I  determined  to  have  revenge  upon  the  cowardly 
scoundrel  who  sought  to  lure  my  ship  to  ruin  for  his  own 
selfish  purposes. 

'  Mr.  Porter,'  I  said,  'put  the  skiff  quietly  over  the 
side,  and  let  one  man  get  into  her.  It  is  low  tide  now, 
and  we  will  float  off  safe  enough  later  on.' 

"I  hurriedly  entered  the  cabin,  thrust  a  heavy  billy 
into  my  pocket,  and  selected  a  couple  of  large  handker- 
chiefs, provided  with  which  I  dropped  into  the  boat  and 
tied  them  around  the  looms  of  the  oars  so  as  to  muffle 
the  thud  when  they  pounded  against  the  rowlocks.  Then 
I  directed  the  course  of  the  boat  toward  the  shore,  a  little 
in  the  rear  of  the  red  light,  and  a  few  minutes  later  I 
jumped  out  on  a  ledge  of  rocks,  and  started  after  the 
scoundrel,  whose  outline  grew  clearer  and  clearer  as  I 
crept  stealthily  upon  him  where  he  stood,  peering  in  the 


direction  of  my  vessel,  with  the  lantern  resting  on  the 
ground  at  his  feet. 

"I  was  almost  upon  him  before  he  detected  me.  He 
parried  tbe  blow  that  I  aimed  at  his  head  with  the  billy, 
then  closed  with  me.  He  was  a  mighty  big  and  strong 
man,  but  I  was  bigger  and  stronger,  and  quickly  threw 
him  heavily,  and  knelt  on  his  chest,  while  my  hands  held 
his  throat  in  a  vise. 

"  The  next  moment  I  rolled  over  almost  senseless  from 
a  blow  upon  my  head,  and  had  just  sense  enough  left  to 
see  in  the  red  glow  of  the  lantern  an  upraised  cudgel 
ready  to  descend  on  my  unprotected  head. 

"The  club  never  fell,  for  the  man  pitched  face  down- 
wards upon  the  rocks,  felled  like  a  log  from  the  crush- 
ing blow  of  my  boatswain's  fist.  The  seaman  had  pulled 
the  skiff  up  on  the  ledge,  and  followed  me  unbidden,  '  to 
see  the  fun,'  as  he  explained  it  afterwards  —  for  which 
breach  of  discipline  you  may  be  sure  I  forgave  him. 

"We  bound  the  hands  of  the  two  men  together,  and 
when  they  came  to  their  senses  we  carried  them  off  to 
the  ship,  which  floated  when  the  tide  rose.  The  next 
day  I  reached  Portland,  and  turned  our  two  interesting 
captives  over  to  the  police,  but  the  lantern  I  kept  for  a 
souvenir. 

"  And  now,  Ralph,  you  have  the  history  of  the  '  jibber- 
the-kibber  '  lantern." 


A  DAINTY  HAIR-PIN   BOX. 

EVERY  girl  likes  dainty  boxes.  In  fact,  every  woman,  young 
or  old, can  find  a  place  for  one  more  if  it  is  attractive  iu  its 
way.  Therefore,  if  you  want  to  make  a  really  charming  little 
gift,  either  for  your  chum  or  for  some  older  friend,  this  hair-pin 
box  will  serve  you  well.  It  is  very  pretty  and  ornamental,  be- 
sides keeping  the  troublesome  pins  in  place;  and  as  it  requires 
only  such  neatness  and  care  as  you  are  sure  to  be  willing  to 
give,  there  is  no  reason  for  failing  iu  the  work. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  you  cau  make  it  of  any  color  and  any 
material  you  may  prefer;  but  as  linen  is  peculiarly  good  for  all 
such  things,  the  model  is  made  from  a  fine  piece  of  purr  white. 
The  embroidery  is  all  done  with  old-pink  tilo-floss,  and  the  effect 
is  indeed  excellent.  But  as  again  the  particular  style  of  deco- 
ration is  a  matter  of  choice,  only  a  hint  cau  be  given.  The 


I 
..j 


essentials  of  success  lie  iu  the  method  of  making.  You  may 
embroider  any  device  you  like  best,  or  even  paint  the  linen  if 
you  are  clever  with  your  brush.  So  long  as  you  do  the  work 
well  you  will  succeed,  let  the  style  of  ornamentation  be  what  it 
will. 

To  make  the  box,  then,  first  select  your  material  and  cut  from 
it  four  pieces — two  ten  inches  long  by  six  and  a  quarter  vide, 
two  seven  inches  long  by  three  wide.  When  so  much  is  done 
cut  stiff  card-board  into  pieces  of  the  following  sizes:  two  six 
and  one-half  inches  by  two  and  a  quarter,  two  six  and  a  half  by 
one  and  a  quarter,  and  two  two  and  a  quarter  by  one  and  a 
quarter. 

From  each  corner  of  the  two  larger  pieces  of  linen  cut  a 
square  bit  just  one  and  a  half  inches  each  way,  so  as  to  form  a 
piece  like  the  one  the  diagram  shows.  Then  lay  two  pieces  of 
the  linen — one  larger  and  one  smaller — on  a  table  or  clean  board, 
and  place  the  card-boards  on  them.  The  smaller  piece  is  for  the 
cover ;  so  lay  upon  it  one  of  the  boards  six  and  a  half  inches  by 
two  and  a  quarter,  and  allow  the  edges  to  extend  evenly  beyond. 
Then  mark  where  it  falls.  The  larger  piece  will  make  the  box 


DECEMBER  18,  1894. 


HAKPEK'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


127 


proper.  On  it  lay  the  one  large  and  four  smaller  pieces  of  board 
as  tlie  dotted  lines  indicate,  and  mark  where  each  falls.  You 
will  then  be  able  to  embroider  the  top,  sides,  and  ends  in  exactly 
their  proper  places. 

Draw  upon  the  linen  the  design  you  have  chosen,  or  have  it 
stamped,  after  which  do  all  the  work  and  press  it  carefully  be- 
fore you  attempt  to  make  the  bos.  Wheu  you  are  ready  to 
begin  that  part  of  the  work,  place  the  larger  embroidered  piece, 
right  side  down,  upon  the  table,  and  again  lay  on  all  the  pieces 
of  the  box,  but  this  time  paste  each  lightly  in  its  place  with 
smooth  flour  paste. 

Turn  over  all  the  edges,  and  paste  them  so  as  to  make  every- 
thing quite  neat.  Then  when  the  paste  is  dry  lay  over  each 
piece  of  board  a  layer  of  perfumed  wadding,  and  paste  the  plain 
linen  or  lining  firmly  into  place.  Lay  the  cover  upon  its  piece 
of  linen,  turn  under,  and  paste  all  the  edges,  and  line  it  also 
with  care,  after  which  place  both  it  and  the  box  under  a  heavy 
weight. 

Next  day,  or  several  hours  later,  when  it  will  be  quite  dry  and 
firm,  turn  up  the  sides  and  ends  to  form  the  box,  sew  narrow 
ribbons  to  each  corner,  aud  tie  it  into  place.  Put  the  cover  on 
evenly,  and  make  it  also  secure  with  two  small  bows,  one  near 


each  end,  which  will  serve  as  hinges,  and  attach  a  loop  at  the 
opposite  side  with  which  to  raise  the  lid. 

You  will  find  that  you  have  made  a  perfect  box,  aud  that  it  is 
a  very  charming  little  trifle,  apart  from  its  convenience  and  daily 


WELL  FIXED. 

THE  snail  he  leads  a  happy  life, 
It  always  seems  to  me ; 

He  has  to  earu  his  daily  bread, 
But  gets  his  house  rent  free. 


THE   STRANGE  ADVENTURES   OF  TOMMY 
TODDLES. 

BY     ALBERT     LEE. 
CHAPTER   I. 

IT  was  early  in  the  afternoon  of  a  bright  autumn  day  that 
Tommy  Toddles  sat  by  the  wiudow  in  the  big  playroom  at  the 
top  of  the  house,  looking  wistfully  out  over  the  swaying  trees 
toward  the  distant  hills.  He  was  beginning  to  feel  lonely,  for  he 
bad  been  left  to  himself  almost  an  hour  since  luncheon,  aud 
everything  in  the  house  was  so  quiet  that  it  seemed  as  if  every 
one  had  gone  to  sleep.  Not  even  the  memory  of  two  large  pieces 
of  plum  pudding  were  sufficient  to  occupy  Tommy's  mind  for  so 
long  as  an  hour,  and  the  toys  which  lay  about  the  floor  appeared 
uninteresting.  He  had  been  playing  with  the  curiously  colored 
wooden  animals  of  his  Noah's  ark  until  they  no  longer  offered 
auy  attraction,  aud  then  he  had  climbed  up  on  to  the  window 
seat,  and  pressed  his  little  nose  against  the  window-pane  for 
what  seemed  to  him  a  very  long  period  of  time.  How  he 
wished  that  his  uncle  Dick  was  there  to  take  him  out  for  a 
wild  romp  across  the  fields!  How  they  would  climb  fences  and 
jump  ditches,  aud  pick  up  queer-shaped  stones  aud  fallen  birds' 
nests !  But  Uncle  Dick  was  not  there,  and  there  was  no  use 
hoping  for  him,  because  he  had  gone  away,  and  would  not  be 
back  again  from  the  distant  city  for  at  least  a  week.  And  in 
the  mean  while  no  one  else  would  ever  think  of  taking  Tommy 
for  a  tramp  in  the  woods.  He  could  play  in  the  big  garden  as 
much  as  he  wished  to,  but  he  must  not  go  beyoud  the  gate ;  and 
as  he  looked  out  at  the  hills  aud  the  fields  and  caught  a  glimpse 
of  the  blue  ocean  far  off  in  the  distance,  he  sighed  at  the  thought 
of  the  barrier  gate. 

"  But  I  suppose  there  is  no  use  wishing  for  things,"  he  thought, 


almost  out  loud.  "  The  only  thing  to  do  is  to  wait,  and  I  do  get 
so  tired  of  waiting.  I  wish  I  had  asked  Uncle  Dick  to  send  me 
the  sheep  instead  of  waiting  to  bring  it  with  him.  Aud  I  do 
hope  it  will  be  a  nice,  white,  woolly  sheep,  as  big  as  a  real  one, 
and  strong  enough  for  me  to  ride  on." 

This  woolly  sheep  that  Tommy  was  thinking  about  had  been 
the  subject  of  a  long  discussion  between  him  and  his  uncle 
Dick  just  before  the  latter's  departure.  Uncle  Dick  had  prom- 
ised to  bring  back  from  the  city  anything  that  Tommy  minht 
ask  for,  aud  the  little  boy  had  promptly  demanded  a  goat — a 
live  billy  goat !  He  thought  it  would  be  nice  to  have  it  on  the 
lawn  in  front  of  the  big  house,  aud  to  hitch  it  to  his  expiv.ss 
wagon  and  drive  it  about.  But,  unfortunately,  when  Tommy's 
mother  heard  of  this  plan,  she  firmly  objected  to  having  a  live 
goat.  She  said  she  would  not  allow  any  such  animal  about  the 
house.  Tommy  then  suggested  a  sheep,  a  little  woolly  sheep 
that  could  have  a  blue  ribbon  around  its  neck  with  a  bell  hang- 
ing from  it.  But  his  mother  objected  to  the  sheep,  too,  and  so 
after  a  long  talk  with  Uncle  Dick  the  little  boy  compromised  on 
a  stuffed  sheep  which  should  be  very  white  and  very  woolly, 
and  should  have  some  sort  of  interior  mechanism  that  would 
make  it  bleat. 

Consequently,  as  Tommy  gazed  out  of  the  window,  he  kept 
picturing  to  himself  what  glorious  times  he  would  have  when 
his  uncle  got  back  with  the  woolly  sheep:  but  at  the  thought 
of  all  these  future  joys  he  grew  very  drowsy.  He  turned  from 
the  window  and  wondered  what  he  could  do  to  pass  away  the 
long  afternoon.  There  stood  the  Noah's  ark  on  the  floor  just  as 
he  had  left  it,  with  the  animals  walking  down  the  gang-plank, 
two  by  two,  in  the  order  of  their  sizes — the  giraffes  first  and 
the  guinea-pigs  last.  How  often  he  had  arranged  them  that 
way !  Sometimes  they  walked  up  the  gang-plank  and  some- 
times they  walked  down,  but  as  a  matter  of  fact  they  alu-ays 
stood  still. 

"If  they  could  only  be  alive,"  mused  Tommy,  "and  really 
walk.  If  they  could  go  in  and  out  like  real  animals,  and  have 
pens  and  houses  aud  eat  things." 

And  as  he  thought  of  the  wonderful  outcome  of  such  a.  pos- 
sibility, it  suddenly  seemed  to  him  that  the  animals  actually 
did  begin  to  move.  He  looked  again  aud  became  sure  that  they 
were  moving!  The  long  line  of  wooden  animals  was  actually 
wobbling  along  down  the  gang-plank!  And  how  funny  they 
looked  with  their  stiff  wooden  legs  and  their  awkward  wooden 
bodies ! 

Tommy  Toddles  was  so  surprised  at  the  behavior  of  his  toys 
that  he  just  sat  stock  still  and  stared  at  them.  They  seemed  to 
in  paying  no  attention  whatever  to  him.  They  were  moving  on 
down  the  gang-plank  aud  across  the  floor,  the  two  giraffes  lead- 
ing the  way,  and  all  the  other  animals  following  in  perfect  order, 
just  as  he  had  arranged  them.  They  progressed  slowly  toward 
the  open  door  which  led  to  the  hallway,  but  every  now  and  then 
the  procession  was  delayed  by  the  last  guinea-pig  which  kept 
getting  its  toes  caught  in  the  threads  of  the  carpet.  They  passed 
through  the  doorway  and  marched  out  into  the  hall,  and  then 
actually  began  going  down  the  stairs.  Tommy  got  up  from 
the  window  seat  aud  followed  them. 

"  This  is  very  queer,"  thought  he.  "  If  Uncle  Dick  could  only 
see  them  now!"  Aud  then  be  started  down  stairs  in  the  wake 
of  the  guinea-pigs.  "I  do  hope  we  won't  meet  the  cook,"  he 
continued  mentally,  as  the  procession  reached  the  first  lauding; 
"she  is  so  near-sighted  she  might  not  see  them,  and  she  would 
be  sure  to  step  on  those  in  front  aud  break  their  legs.  Then 
they  would  not  be  able  to  walk  any  more." 

By  this  time  the  animals  had  reached  the  ground-floor,  for 
they  were  moving  along  quite  rapidly,  and  the  head  of  the  col- 
umn, led  by  the  giraffes,  started  straight  for  the  front  door.  The 
toys  now  appeared  to  Tommy  as  if  they  were  very  much  larger 
than  usual.  It  seemed  to  him  as  if  they  had  grown  during  the 
trip  down  the  stairs,  but  in  spite  of  this  sudden  and  unnatural 
growth  none  of  them  was  anywhere  near  tall  enough  to  reach 
the  door-knob,  aud  the  little  boy  wondered  how  they  were  going 
to  get  out  into  the  garden,  for  it  was  evidently  their  intention 
to  go  there.  He  sat  down  on  the  steps  to  watch. 

The  procession  moved  steadily  onward,  and  when  the  giraffes 
reached  the  door  they  marched  right  through  it  as  if  there  had 
not  been  auy  door  there  at  all.  The  other  animals  did  the  same 
thing.  Tommy  could  see  them  approach  the  door  and  gradual- 
ly fade  away  into  it,  and  then  he  thought  he  could  hear  them 
treading  on  the  gravel  path  outside. 

"Well, that  is  the  most  wouderfulest  tbiug  I  ever  .saw!"  he 
gasped,  quite  regardless  of  grammar.  "I  have  heard  of  people 
teeing  "through  a  door,  aud  hcariny  through  a  door,  aud  s 


128 


HAKPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


•WELL,  THAT    IS    THE    MOST    WONDEKFULEST    THING    I    EVER    SAW!" 


got  further  and  further 
away  down  the  road  they 
seemed  to  grow  larger  and 
larger  instead  of  becoming 
smaller,  as,  according  to  all 
optical  laws,  they  should 
have  done.  They  still 
maintained  their  relative 
positions  in  line,  with  the 
little  guinea-pigs  toddling 
along  in  the  rear,  almost 
running  in  their  breathless 
endeavors  to  keep  up  with 
the  others,  but  by  the  time 
the  latter  had  reached  the 
gate  they  appeared  to  be 
life  size,  audjas  the  little 
boy  glanced  over  the  shrub- 
bery which  screened  the 
garden  from  the  public 
highway,  he  could  plainly 
see  the  tall  heads  and  long 
necks  of  the  giraffes  mov- 
ing away  in  the  distance. 

[TO    HE    CONTINUED.] 


COUSIN  JANE.  "Did  you 
stay  up  late  Xmas  eve  ?" 

JACK.  "Yes;  brother 
Bobby  and  I  lay  awake,  and 
about  eleven  o'clock  we 
heard  the  door  open,  and 
in  came  Santa  Clans;  up 
jumped  Bobby  and  I,  and 
grabbed  him.  Who  do  you 
think  it  was?" 

COUSIN  JANE.  "  Santa 
Clans,  of  course." 

JACK.  "No,  it  was  papa." 


through  a  door" — and  here  Tommy  recollected  vividly  the  odor 
of  pancakes  coming  through  the  closed  kitcheu  door — "but  I 
never  saw  anything  go  through  a  door  before.  These  animals 
must  all  be  like  sounds  or  smells  or  sights, "concluded  the  little 
boy,  for  that  was  the  only  rational  explanation  he  could  make 
to  himself  for  their  odd  behavior.  "But  I  wonder  where  they 
are  going?" and  he  got  up  from  his  seat  on  the  steps  and  ran 
down  to  the  front  door.  He  did  not  stop  to  take  his  cap  or  to 
tell  his  mother  he  was  going  out,  as  he  usually  did,  but  he 
opened  the  front  door  and  stood  on  the  porch  watching  the  pro- 
cession which  by  this  time  had  gotten  quite  a  distance  down 
the  broad  driveway. 

The  animals  passed  out  through  the  open  gate,  and  as  they 


BOBBY.  "Which  do  you  like  best,  Thanksgiving  or  Christ- 
mas ?" 

GEORGE.  "  Xmas,  of  course;  on  Thanksgiving  you  only  eat 
turkey  and  cranberries,  but  on  Xmas  you  eat  turkey  and  cran- 
berries, and  get  lots  of  presents  besides." 


FREDDY  (day  before  Xmas).  "  Santa  Claus  is  going  to  have 
some  trouble  coming  down  our  chimney." 

JOHNNY.  "  How  is  that  ?" 

FKKDDY.  "  I  went  up  to  the  roof  yesterday  and  put  a  stray 
cat  in  the  chimney,  aud  she  hasu't  come  down  yet." 


THE    BOYS'    AMBUSCADE. 
COLORED    PARTY.  "  FKOW  AWAY,  IBE  KIN  OATOH."  HE  OATOIIF.S  MOEK  THAN  HE  BARGAINED  FOR. 


HARPEKS 


H 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


Copyright,  1894,  by  HARPKB  &  BROTHERS.     All  Rights  Res, 


PUBLISHED    WEEKLY. 
VOL.   XVI. — NO.  791. 


NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY,  DECEMBER  25,  1894. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO   DOLLARS   A    YEA  It. 


AFLOAT  WITH  THE   FLAG. 


BY     \V.  J.   [IKXDKkSOX. 


CHAPTER     XV. 
A    REFUSAL    AND    A    PROMISE. 


Alma's  boat  sped  easily  across  the  bay  toward  the 
Charleston.  Captain  Lock  wood's  lips  were  com- 
pressed, and  there  was  a  blaze  in  his  eyes.  If  he  had 
been  commander  of  an  American  man-of-war  at  that  mo- 
ment there  would  have  been  trouble  in  Rio  Harbor.  The 
light  boat  shot  up  easily  alongside  the  ladder,  and  the 
Captain  ran  up  to  the  deck.  As  he  crossed  the  side  he 
lifted  his  cap  and  said,  with  emphasis,  "Thank  goodness, 
I  am  among  civilized  men!" 

The  officer  of  the  deck  approached  with  a  smile,  and 
said,  "You  speak  like  an  American." 

"  I  am  one.  I  am  the  owner  and  master  of  the  bark 
Alma  from  New  York,  and  I  have  come  to  ask  for  pro 
tection  from  the  senior  officer  of  the  American  fleet.'' 

The  officer  of  the  deck 
at  once  sent  word  to  Cap- 
tain Picking,  who  prompt- 
ly received  the  sturdy 
old  skipper.  Captain 
Lockwood  told  his  story 
with  seaman! ike  blunt- 
ness,  and  the  commander 
of  the  Charleston,  heard 
him  with  courtesy. 

"I  am  afraid  I  cannot 
do  anything  for  you," 
said  Captain  Picking. 

Captain  Lockwood 
stared  at  him  in  amaze- 
ment. 

"  Why,  what  on  earth 
are  you  here  for?''  he  ex- 
claimed. 

"I  am  here  to  protect 
American  interests  in 
this  harbor,  but  I  do  not 
believe  that  I  should  be 
protecting  them  by  doing 
anything  that  would  ap- 
pear to  favor  one  side  or 
the  other." 

"But  American  ships 
are  being  fired  on  by  the 
insurgents.  Mine  is  not 
the  first." 

"I  am  aware  of  that; 


but  you  must  not  act  in  such  a  way  as  to  draw  fire.  I 
can  only  say  to  you  that  if  you  insist  upon  going  to  a 
wharf,  you  must  do  it  at  your  own  risk.  I  cannot  inter- 
fere in  the  matter." 

"  Then  I  am  wasting  my  time  here,"  said  Captain  Lock- 
wood,  rising  to  go. 

"  I  advise  you  to  do  nothing  hasty,"  said  Captain  Pick- 
ing, kindly. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"  The  American  fleet  will  soon  be  under  another  com- 
mander. Admiral  Benham,  who  is  due  here  in  two  or 
three  days.  He  may  see  some  way  to  aid  you  which  I 
do  not." 

"I  thank  you  for  the  suggestion.  I  understand  you 
to  mean  that  Admiral  Benham  may  come  with  later  orders 
from  the  national  government  than  those  you  have,  and 
hence  may  act  differently.  You  needn't  say  a  word,  sir. 


'HELP!    HELP!"    HE    CRIED. 


130 


HAEPEK'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


I   appreciate   Hie   delicacy  of   your   position,  and  I'm   in- 
debted to  von  for  your  courtesy." 

And  with  .-i  sailorl ike  salute  Captain  Lockwood  turned 
and  left  the  cabin.  In  a  few  minutes  lie  was  well  on  Ills 
wa\  Uaek  to  the  Alum.  (  )n  his  arrival  a  few  words  sullired 
to  put  Minnie  and  Mr.  Ball  in  possession  of  the  facts. 

••  Well,  I'm  blowed!"  was  Mr.  Ball's  comment. 

••  You  will  not  try  to  go  to  a  wharf?"  asked  Minnie. 

"  Not  Till  I  Mud  out  what  this  new  Admiral  has  got  to 
sav.  But  I'm  going  to  shift  our  anchorage  a  bit." 

'flic  next  morning  the  Alma  was  got  under  way  to 
stand  a  little  closer  under  the  shore.  As  soon  as  her  head 
fell  off  and  her  jib  filled,  a  heavy  rifle  volley  was  loosed 
at  her  from  the  Trajano.  The  bark  was  at  once  brought 
to  the  wind,  and  the  anchor  let  go;  but  even  after  that 
several  shots  were  fired  across  her  deck.  Captain  Lock- 
wood  was  in  deep  anger,  but  he  made  no  further  attempt 
to  move  his  bark.  Two  days  later  Admiral  Benham's 
flag  was  hoisted  on  the  San  Francisco,  and  a  new  feel- 
ing was  aroused  in  the  fleet  of  American  merchantmen. 
Captain  Lockwood  waited  until  another  day  had  passed, 
and  then  he  ordered  his  boat  and  started  for  the  flag-ship. 
He  was  a  man  of  stern  purpose,  and  he  had  made  up  his 
mind  that  if  the  American  commander  did  not  promise 
him  protection  he  would  send  Minnie  to  some  place  of 
safety,  and  endeavor  to  run  the  Alma  to  a  wharf  in  spite 
of  the  insurgent  rihVs.  Fortunately  for  him  he  did  not 
have  to  resort  to  such  a  hazardous  experiment.  He  was 
received  by  Admiral  Beiiham  with  the  greatest  courtesy, 
and  again  told  his  story,  with  the  addition  of  the  Tnijmio 
incident. 

"  The  United  States  flag,"  he  said,  "  was  living  aboard 
my  bark  the  whole  time." 

"Captain  Lockwood,"  said  the  Admiral,  gravely,"  re- 
turn to  your  vessel.  I  shall  at  once  enter  into  com- 
munication on  this  subject  with  Admiral  da  Gama,  and  I 
assure  you,  sir,  that  you  shall  receive  protection  from  the 
United  States  forces  under  my  command." 

Captain  Lockwood  looked  the  dignified  old  veteran  in 
the  eye,  and  saw  there  an  expression  of  quiet  resolution 
which  gave  him  the  greatest  satisfaction. 

"Thank  you,  sir,  heartily.      Good-morning,"  he  said. 

Captain  Lockwood  went  back  to  the  Alma  and  told 
what  had  happened.  Even  Kibo,  the  cook,  was  interested. 
and  he  set  up  a  barbarian  shout  of  joy  that  filled  the  fore- 
castle with  discordant  echoes.  An  hour  later  a  launch 
with  an  officer  seated  in  the  stern  was  seen  to  leavo  the 
San  Francisco's  side,  and  hurry  away  toward  the  jJhi'i- 
tade.  The  officer  carried  a  letter  from  Admiral  Benham 
to  Admiral  da  Gama.  It  was  properly  a  confidential 
communication,  but  its  contents  were  soon  known  among 
the  officers  of  the  American  fleet. 

"Do  you  know  what  it  said?"  asked  George.  "It 
went  this  way,  '  Your  right  to  establish  a  blockade  of 
the  whole  or  any  part  of  the  harbor  of  Rio  de  Janeiro  is 
not  conceded,  and  no  such  blockade  will  be  respected,  as 
belligerent  rights  have  not  been  accorded  you.'  " 

"  W'ich  the  same  it  are  werry  fat  talk,"  said  Peter 
Morris. 

"Look  here,  Peter,"  said  Hal,  "you  must  keep  this 
business  to  yourself.  It  will  not  do  to  have  the  men 
chattering." 

"Bless  ye,  sir,"  said  Peter,  "I'll  be  as  dumb  as  my 
Aunt  Mehitabel's  big  clock  wot  never  spoke  but  oncet  a 
year,  an'  then  it  struck  one  at  one  o'clock  in  the  mornin' 
on  the  fust  o'  Janiwary,  sir." 

"Yes,"  continued  George,  who  was  greatly  excited, 
"  and  Admiral  da  Gama  replied  that  the  firing  of  his 
ships  was  not  an  act  of  aggression  against  the  American 
flair,  but  a  warning  to  merchant  ships  to  keep  out  of  the 
lineof  fire.  He  said  the  shots  were  always  withoutball." 

"  An'  that  are  wot  I  calls  a  twister,"  said  Peter. 

"  Twister!"  exclaimed  George.      "  It's  a  regular — " 


"Not  so  loud,  Georgie,"  said  Hal.  "It  certainly  is 
not  true,  for  Captain  Lockwood  told  us  he  heard  bullets, 
and  one  of  them  went  through  a  sail." 

"  Are  that  true?"  asked  Peter. 

"Yes,  certainly,"  said  Harold. 

"Then  afore  we  leaves  this  'ere  harbor  the  American 
eagle  are  got  to  let  out  one  scream,  sure." 

"  Now  mind  you  don't  go  talking  about  this  among 
the  men, "said  Hal. 

"  Among  the  wot,  sir?  Slobs,  sir;  slobs  are  wot  I  calls 
'em,  an'  I  wouldn't  tell  'em  nothin'  if  I  thought  they 
was  a-bustiif  fur  to  know." 

CHAPTER    XVI. 
THE  MEETING    OF  THE    CAPTAINS. 

THE  next  day  the  two  boys  had  more  news  about  the 
correspondence  between  the  two  Admirals. 

"  Do  you  know  what  Admiral  Benham's  latest  is?" 
asked  Hal,  joining  George  in  the  steerage. 

"No;   what?" 

"He  has  demanded  that  all  firing  be  stopped." 
This  was  true.  On  January  27th,  Admiral  Benham 
wrote  once  more  to  Admiral  da  Gama.  "  I  now  de- 
mand,"he  said,  "that  any  order  which  any  ship  or  shore 
battery  under  your  command  may  now  have  to  stop  or 
in  any  way  interfere  with  the  movements  of  any  Ameri- 
can vessels  about  the  harbor,  while  in  the  pursuit  of  their 
lawful  business,  be  rescinded  at  once.  I  also  request  to 
be  notified  when  this  has  been  done.  This  demand  is  not 
intended  to  restrict  or  hamper  in  any  way  the  prosecu- 
tion of  your  military  or  naval  operations."  Harold  was 
not  acquainted  with  the  wording  of  this  letter,  but  he 
knew  something  about  the  nature  of  its  contents.  The 
two  boys  were  just  going  on  deck  for  the  second  dog- 
watch, and  had  paused  under  the  break  of  the  forecastle, 
where  Peter  Morris  was  leaning  against  the  bulkhead. 

"Werry  good,  too,"  remarked  the  honest  cockswain. 
"If  all  the  firin'  stops  the  revolution  are  over,  an'  we 
ups  killick  an'  goes  home." 

"But  do  you  suppose  that  Admiral  Benham  means 
that  Admiral  da  Gama  mustn't  fire  at  all?"  said  Hal. 

"  In  course,"  answered  Peter;  "  ain't  that  wot  he  says?" 

"No,"  said  George;  "only  that  he  mustn't  fire  on 
American  vessels." 

"An'  a  werry  proper  order,"  said  Peter,  emphatically. 

"  But,"  said  Hal,  thoughtfully,  "  suppose  that  Da  Gama 
refuses  to  comply  with  this  demand?" 

"Then  I  reckon  as  how  we  are  got  to  make  him,"  an- 
swered Peter,  "else  what  are  we  here  for?" 

"I  tell  you,"  exclaimed  George,  "that  would  suit  me 
to  a  T." 

"  Why,  Georgie?"  said  Hal. 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  look  so  shocked,"  said  George.  "  I 
should  like  to  see  some  active  service." 

"So  should  I,"  answered  Harold,  "but  in  other  cir- 
cumstances. I  can't  help  thinking  of  poor  Frank's  ter- 
rible position  in  this  matter.  He  must  be  suffering  in- 
tense agony  of  mind." 

"Hal,  I'm  just  as  sorry  for  Frank  as  you  are,  but  if 
there's  going  to  be  a  row  here  I'm  going  to  put  him  out 
of  my  mind  and  enjoy  the  fun,  and  you'd  belter  do  the 
same." 

"You  let  Mr.  King  alone,  sir,"  said  Peter;  "  when  the 
time  comes  for  a  scrimmage  he'll  be  right  on  deck." 

"  Time's  up,"  said  Harold.      "  We  must  go  on  duty." 

It  was  a  beautiful  clear  evening,  but  warm.  A  very 
light  breeze  was  blowing,  and  the  flags  on  the  vessels  flut- 
tered rather  languidly.  George  had  hardly  taken  two 
turns  across  the  deck  when  he  heard  a  hail  from  Harold, 
who  was  standing  watch  as  midshipman  of  the  forecastle. 

"Signals  flying  on  the  flag-ship,  sir!" 

Mr.  Harniss,  who  was  officer  of  the   deck,  hurried   to 


DECEMBER  25,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


131 


the  bridge,  and  with  signal-book  in  hand,  noted  the  flags 
at  the  San  Francisco's  signal-yard.  The  uppermost  flag- 
was  solid  red,  the  second  solid  blue,  and  the  third  con- 
sisted of  two  horizontal  red  stripes  with  a  white  stripe 
between  them. 

''It's  137,"  he  said,  turning  over  the  leaves  of  the 
book  and  reading,  '"Commanding  officers  of  ships  report 
aboard  nag  ship.'  Quartermaster,  run  up  the  answering 
pennant.  Orderly!" 

The  marine  who  answered  the  last  hail  was  sent  to  in- 
form Commander  Brownsou  of  the  nature  of  the  signal. 
Before  he  had  fairly  turned  away,  Mr.  Harniss,  antici- 
pating the  command  which  he  knew  would  come  from 
the  Captain,  ordered  the  steam-launch  to  be  got  ready 
and  brought  to  the  starboard  gangway,  and  sent  a  mes- 
senger after  Harold's  sword,  for  it  was  the  boy's  duty  to 
act  as  boat  officer.  The  crew  of  the  steam-launch  tum- 
bled on  deck,  and  the  men  were  speedily  but  carefully 
inspected  by  Harold,  to  make  sure  that  they  were  proper- 
ly uniformed.  The  launch  had  hardly  reached  the  foot 
of  the  starboard  accommodation -ladder  before  Commander 
Brownson  came  out  of  his  cabin.  A  minute  later  he  was 
iut  the  boat  and  on  his  way  to  the  San  Francisco.  He 
spoke  not  a  word  during  the  brief  passage,  but  kept  his 
eyes  fixed  with  an  expression  of  deep  thought  on  the  ves- 
sels of  the  insurgents,  sullenly  tugging  at  their  cables  off 
Engenhu.  Three  other  launches,  from  the  New  York, 
Newark,  and  Charleston,  were  tearing  the  blue  water  into 
ribbons  of  emerald  and  silver  as  they  plunged  forward 
toward  the  flag-ship.  It  looked  like  a  mad  race  to  see 
which  would  arrive  first,  but  as  they  neared  the  ship  the 
others  slackened  speed  and  permitted  the  launch  of  the 
senior  officer,  Captain  Picking,  to  go  to  the  ladder  first. 
The  marine  guard  at  the  gangway  presented  arms,  the 
boatswain's  whistle  shrieked  a  shrill  salute,  and  the  Cap- 
tain disappeared  behind  the  ship's  iron  bulwarks.  The 
other  officers  followed  in  their  order,  and  in  a  few  seconds 
Harold  found  himself  sitting  idly  in  the  launch,  which 
was  bobbing  uneasily  on  the  small  ripple  a  few  yards  off 
the  ship's  quarter.  There  was  an  air  of  deep  expectancy 
aboard  the  San  Francisco.  Though  it  was  a  dog-watch, 
when  much  latitude  is  allowed  to  Jack,  the  men  forward 
were  very  quiet.  For  the  most  part  they  sat  or  lay  about 
the  forecastle,  smoking  and  conversing  in  low  tones,  with 
their  rough  hairy  faces  screwed  into  a  hundred  queer 
shapes  around  the  blackened  stems  of  their  glowing  pipes. 
Occasionally  a  louder  word  or  a  hoarse  laugh  rolled  over 
the  side,  where  it  seemed  to  fall  into  the  water  and  be 
drowned,  so  suddenly  was  it  followed  by  a  deeper  silence. 
Even  as  Nature  sometimes  appears  to  brood  before  she 
bursts  into  a  storm,  so  now  the  flag-ship  of  the  American 
fleet  seemed  to  be  instinct  with  serious  purpose. 

In  the  cabin  of  Admiral  Benham  the  Captains  of  his 
ships  were  listening  to  a  grave  communication.  The 
Admiral  explained  to  them  with  great  care  the  exact  de- 
tails of  the  situation,  and  gave  each  explicit  orders  as  to 
his  duties  for  the  following  day.  These  orders  caused 
every  man's  lips  to  close  a  little  more  tightly,  while  his 
eyes  sparkled  with  a  new  light.  Admiral  da  Gama  had 
paid  no  attention  to  Admiral  Benham's  letter  demanding 
orders  for  the  final  cessation  of  all  firing  upon  American 
ships.  Now  the  American  commandei-  had  finished 
letter  writing,  and  was  preparing  to  speak  another  lan- 
guage. The  meeting  lasted  over  an  hour.  Then  the 
launches  were  called  in  their  order,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
Commander  Brownson  was  steaming  back  toward  the 
Detroit.  There  was  a  very  stern  expression  011  his 
countenance,  and  his  eyes  burned  with  an  intense  fire. 
He  gazed  steadily  at  his  own  ship,  and  seemed  to  be  mak- 
ing a  mental  note  of  every  detail  of  her  rig  and  arma- 
ment. Then  he  turned  his  eyes  upon  the  rebel  ships 
Guanabara  and  Trajano,  and  a  grim  smile  passed  over 
his  face.  The  next  moment  his  eyes  met  those  of  Harold, 


who  was  watching  him  with  a  sort  of  respectful  curi- 
osity. 

''Young  gentleman,"  said  the  Commander,  in  a  low 
tone,  "are  you  much  given  to  cowardice?" 

Harold  started  with  surprise.  "I  don't  know,  sir,"  he 
answered,  modestly.  "  I  have  never  been  tried." 

Once  again  Commander  Brownson  looked  first  at  the 
Detroit,  and  then  at  the  insurgent  ships  watching  the 
Alma,  and  he  said, 

"You  may  get  an  opportunity  to-morrow  to  show — 

His  speech  was  cut  short  by  the  report  of  a  gun  over 
in  the  direction  of  the  city.  A  cloud  of  bluish-white 
smoke  floating  above  an  insurgent  tug  told  whence  the 
shot  had  been  fired.  The  tug  was  about  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  above  the  Alma,  and  to  Commander  Brownson  and 
Harold  she  appeared  to  have  fired  on  that  bark.  Such, 
however,  was  not  the  case.  Under  cover  of  the  gather- 
ing dusk  a  young  man  with  reddish -brown  hair  had 
stolen  out  of  the  woods  a  mile  south  of  the  city,  and 
walked  rapidly  to  the  beach.  There  he  took  the  first  boat 
he  saw,  shoved  off,  and  began  to  row  up  the  bay  with 
nervous  energy.  After  he  had  passed  Cobras  Island  it 
was  evident  that  he  was  heading  toward  the  American 
bark  Alma.  He  pulled  more  slowly  now,  as  if  his 
strength  were  almost  spent.  Suddenly  a  tug  steamed  out 
from  behind  the  island.  A  rough  voice  bawled  an  order 
to  the  rower  to  pause,  but  he  redoubled  his  efforts.  The 
next  moment  a  flash  shot  out  from  the  side  of  the  tug; 
there  was  a  crash;  the  forward  end  of  the  row-boat  was 
demolished,  and  the  boy  found  himself  in  the  ill  smelling 
water.  He  struggled  feebly,  for  he  wasalmost  exhausted. 

"Help!  help!"  he  cried,  and  for  a  few  seconds  he  dis- 
appeared beneath  the  water. 

A  boat  was  lowered  from  the  Alma,  and  pulled  rapidly 
toward  him.  But  the  tug  reached  the  spot  first,  and  the 
boy  was  hauled  aboard  unconscious. 

"  Hold  on  there!"  shouted  Captain  Lockwood,  who  was 
in  command  of  the  Alma's  boat;  "that  man's  an  American 
or  an  Englishman,  or  lie  wouldn't  have  cried  'Help!'" 

"He's  safe  here,"  was  the  answer,  as  the  tug  began  to 
move  away. 

"  But  I  want  to  see  him." 

"  You  can't  do  it.  We  know  this  man,  and  we're  going 
to  keep  him." 

The  tug  hurried  away  at  full  speed,  while  Captain 
Lockwood  sat  in  his  boat  and  looked  helplessly  after  it. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


CLARA'S   CHRlSTiMAS   TREE. 

HERE  is  my  pretty  Christmas  tree, 
All  full  of  pretty  things: 
Wild  animals  with  shaggy  paws, 
And  birds  with  glossy   wings. 

What  lovely  things  are  hanging  tliei-e 

From  all  parts  of  the  earth: 
The  peacock  with  his  feathers  line, 

The   monkey   with   his   mirth, 
The  tiger   with   the   brindled   tail, 

Tlie  snowy  cockatoo, 
The   llying-lish,  the  elephant, 

The  deer  and  kangaroo. 

The  gilded  cornneopia 

Is  swaying  from  the  bough, 

'Mid  oranges  and  candy  plums 
And  paper  dolls ;    and  now 

I  know  it's  all  because  I've  been 
So  good  throughout  the  year 

That  this  my  lovely  harvest  tree 
Is  bending  for  me  here. 

So  up  my  little  ladder  now 

I'll  very  lively  shoot, 
To  be  among  the  fragrant  limbs. 

And  pick  the  pretty  fruit. 


K.  K.  M. 


STORIES    OF    OUR    GOVERNMENT. 

A     DAY     IN     THE     SENATE. 
BY    HON.   HENRY    CABOT    LODGE,  UNITED    STATES    SENATOR    FROM    MASSACHUSETTS. 


Senate-chamber  is  in  the  northern  wing  of  the 
JL  Capitol  at  Washington.  Like  the  House,  it  is  a  square 
hall,  with  galleries  slanting  back  to  the  floor  above.  It 
has  a  large  glass  roof  and  a  marked  lack  of  ornament 
in  its  construction,  but  it  is  much  smaller  than  the  House, 
and  therefore  its  proportions  are  better.  If  you  have  just 


IN    THE   STRANGER'S   GALLERY. 

come  over  from  the  House  and  go  directly  into  the  Sen- 
ate galleries  the  difference  you  will  notice  most  is  the 
quiet  of  the  Senate  as  compared  with  the  other  branch 
of  Congress. 

This  is  due  to  the  much  smaller  membership,  and  also  to 
the  smaller  size  of  the  hall.  If  you  reach  there  at  twelve 
o'clock,  as  you  ought  in  order  to  get  an  idea  of  what  a 
day  in  the  Senate  is,  you  will  see,  when  the  hour  of  noon 
is  reached,  the  Vice  President  of  the  United  States,  who 
presides  over  the  Senate,  enter  with  the  Chaplain.  Then 
comes  the  prayer,  and  then  the  Vice-President  calls  the 
Senate  to  order,  and  the  journal  of  the  proceedings  of 
the  previous  day  is  read.  Then  conies  certain  routine 
business. 

The  communications  which  are  sent  through  the 
Vice-President  are  laid  before  the  Senate.  Then  the 
different  Senators  offer  petitions  and  memorials,  and  in- 
troduce bills  and  resolutions.  When  these  formal  mat- 
ters are  disposed  of,  the  Senate  under  ordinary  circum- 
stances proceeds  to  its  calendar.  Here  arises  a  marked 
difference  from  the  House.  The  House  has  three  calen- 
dars, and  hardly  ever  goes  to  any  one  of  them.  The 
Senate  has  but  one  calendar,  which  is  a  list  of  measures 
reported  from  committees,  but  it  goes  to  that  calendar 
constantly,  and  disposes  of  matters  upon  it  either  in  their 
order  or  by  Senators  calling  up  any  particular  bill  in 
which  they  are  interested  by  general  consent.  In  this 
way  the  Senate  is  enabled  to  transact  rapidly  a  great 
deal  of  small  business,  and  to  dispose  of  bills  which  it  is 
not  easy  to  get  through  the  crowded  channels  of  House 
legislation. 

In  the  Senate  the  morning  hour  ends  at  two  o'clock, 
and  at  that  time  the  calendar  is  laid  aside,  and  the 
Senate  proceeds  to  the  consideration  of  what  is  known 


as  the  unfinished  business— that  is,  the  Senate,  by  gen- 
eral agreement  or  by  majority  vote,  decides  that  some 
important  measure  is  to  be  the  unfinished  business  of  the 
Senate,  and  when  this  is  done,  that  measure  comes  up 
every  day  at  two  o'clock,  until  it  is  disposed  of  or  laid 
aside  by  a  new  vote. 

This  brief  description  really  covers  the  ordinary  pro- 
cedure of  a  day  in  the  Senate,  and  nothing  marks  more 
strongly  the  difference  between  the  two  chambers  than 
that,  in  the  case  of  the  Senate,  it  is  possible  in  a  few 
words  to  give  an  idea  of  its  daily  work,  whereas  in  the 
case  of  the  House  it  would  require  a  volume  almost  to 
describe  fully  and  accurately  its  methods  of  transacting 
business. 

This  difference  arises  chiefly  from  the  comparative 
numbers  of  the  two  bodies,  from  the  longer  term  of  ser- 
vice of  the  Senators,  and  from  the  difference  between  the 
rules  of  the  two  bodies.  The  House  has  three  hundred 
and  fifty-six  members,  and  the  Senate  has  eighty-eight, 
two  from  each  State.  The  House  members  are  elected 
for  only  two  years;  the  Senators  are  elected  for  six.  The 
rules  of  the  House  are  very  many  and  very  complicated. 
The  rules  of  the  Senate  are  very  few  and  in  most  cases 
very  simple. 

It  is  in  fact  true  that  the  rules  of  the  Senate  have  lasted 
without  substantial  change  for  nearly  a  century,  and  the 
present  Senate  conducts  its  business  under  a  system  of 
rules  differing  but  little  from  that  of  the  first  Senate  over 
which  John  Adams  presided. 

Within  the  last  year  every  one  has  heard  a  great  deal 
about  the  rules 
of  the  Senate  and 
the  way  in  which 
business  under 
them  can  be  re- 
tarded. That  such 
delays  exist  is  due 
to  the  fact  that 
there  is  not  in 
the  Senate,  as 
there  is  in  the 
House,  any  meth- 
od of  stopping  de- 
bale. 

There  are  very 
grave  objections 
to  having  rules 
which  give  no 
power  to  close 
debate,  and  in  a 
large  assembly 
like  the  House, 
business  would 
be  impossible  if 
such  a  power  did 
not  exist.  But 
despite  the  delays 
which  occur  in 
the  Senate  on  im- 
portant measm-es,  it  is  well  to  remember  that  the  disad- 
vantage is  not  wholly  one  way,  and  it  is  also  well  to  know 
that  although  the  Senate  delays,  it  has  never  yet  failed 
to  reach  a  vote  upon  a  measure  which  the  majority  desired 
to  vote  upon. 

It    is    also    well    to    remember    that    the    Senate    can 


CAPTAIN  BASSETT,  THE  ASSISTANT  DOOR- 
KEEPER AND  THE  PAGE. 

The  oldest  and  youngest  members  of  the  Senate. 


DECEMBER  25,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


133 


A    SPEECH    THAT    EMPTIES   THE    SENATE. 


transact  business 
with  a  rapidity 
unknown  in  the 
House  whenev- 
er the  necessity 
occurs,  and  that 
the  power  of  un- 
limited debate 
secures  an  op- 
portunity of  dis- 
cussion which  is 
very  important 
for  the  informa- 
tion of  the  coun- 
try,and  which  is 
often  wholly  lost 
in  the  House. 

To  the  onlook- 
er who  has  come 
into  the  galler- 
ies of  the  Senate 
for  the  first  time, 
the  impression 

of  quiet,  as  I  have  said,  is  the  first  thing1  that  strikes  him. 
if  he  has  just  been  to  the  House  of  Representatives.  If  he 
is  unlucky  in  the  day  he  has  chosen,  he  may  chance  upon 
some  long  speech,  which,  as  it  is  read, 
empties  flit-  Senate-chamber,  and  fails 
utterly  to  interest  the  spectators  in  the 
galleries.  But  if  he  is  fortunate — and 
as  it  is  the  practice  in  the  Senate  to  give 
notice  whenever  a  Senator  desires  to  de- 
liver a  speech  it  is  easy  to  be  fortu- 
nate in  selecting  a  day — he  may  hear 
some  Senator  to  whom  it  is  a  great  plea- 
sure to  listen,  and  about  whom  he  has 
read  and  heard  a  great  deal.  He  will 
not  fail  to  hear  him,  because  good  order 
is  maintained  in  the  Senate,  and  the 
motion  and  talk  of  the  House  are  not 
present  here  to  break  in  upon  his  atten- 
tion. On  the  other  hand,  he  may  still 
be  more  fortunate,  and  may  arrive  at  a 
time  when  there  is  a  sharp  debate  in 
progress,  and  when  short  speeches  are 
made  by  the  leaders  on  both  sides.  This 
is  the  most  interesting  of  all,  and  al- 
though a  debate  is  likely  to  spring  up 
at  any  time,  it  is  particularly  apt  to 
come  just  before  the  vote  is  taken  on 
some  great  measure  which  interests  the 
whole  country. 

It  would  be  more  interesting  to  tell 
the  history  of  the  Senate  than  to  try  to 
describe  the  dry  details  of  its  daily 
work;  but  the  history  of  the  Senate 
would  involve  an  outline  of  the  history 
of  the  United  States,  and  would  occupy 
volumes  instead  of  pages.  It  is  a  body, 
however,  about  which  every  American 
boy  and  girl  ought  to  know  something, 
for  although  second  chambers  and 
upper  houses  are  common  in  all  rep- 
resentative governments,  the  constitu- 
tion of  the  United  States  Senate  is  pe- 
culiar to  this  country. 

The  best  efforts  of  Washington  and 
Hamilton  and  Madison,  and  the  other 
great  men  who  framed  our  Constitu- 
tion, were  devoted  to  the  clauses  by 
which  the  Senate  was  constituted.  The 
States  of  our  Union  are  represented  in 
the  Senate,  and  the  Senators  are  given 


long  terms  in  order  to  insure  caution,  safety,  and  con- 
tinuity in  our  legislation.  The  Senate  has  almost  as 
large  powers  of  law  making  as  the  House,  and  it  also 
has  executive  powers,  for  it  shares  with  the  President 
in  the  appointment  of  officers  of  the  government,  and  in 
making  ti-eaties  with  foreign  nations.  It  has  played  a 
great  part  in  our  history,  and  there  is  perhaps  no  better 
way  of  understanding  what  that  part  has  been  than  to 
notice  the  list  of  men  who  have  served  as  Senators.  Of 
our  twenty-three  Presidents,  fifteen  either  served  in  the 
Senate  or  presided  over  its  deliberations,  although,  curi- 
ously enough,  no  Senator  in  actual  service  has  ever  been 
chosen  to  the  Presidency.  It  was  in  the  Senate  that 
Clay  and  Webster,  Benton  and  Calhoun,  Douglas  and 
Sumner,  won  their  greatest  honors;  while  Seward  and 
Elaine  added  service  in  the  Senate  to  achievements  in 
other  fields  of  public  life.  These  are  only  a  few  of  the 
eminent  men  whose  names  we  find  by  glancing  at  the 
Senate  roll,  but  these  show  that  the  Senate  has  been  the 
great  prize  of  American  public  life,  and  that  within  its 
walls  the  greatest  reputations  have  been  won  or  main- 
tained. To  every  one  who  studies  American  history,  as 
every  boy  and  girl  ought  to  do,  the  Senate  has  a  par- 
ticular interest,  and  its  great  importance  in  our  public 
life  and  in  the  government  of  our  countrv,  ought  to  be 
understood. 


THE    UNITED    STATES    SENATE    IN    SESSION. 


134 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


A   MAGNIFICENT    SCHEME. 


HE  was  a  tiny  little  lad,  hut  IK-   \v:is   full  of  schemes. 
He.    wasn't    greed\ .    l>ut     In-     had     the     most    ambitions 
dreams. 

He-  wanteil  every  other  child  to  have  all  sorts  of  toys, 
And   never  en\  ied  any  of  the  nther  little  boys. 

But    as    he    thought    of  Christmas-time,  and    all    the    joys     it 

brings, 
And    pondered    o'er   the    hundred    and    the    thousand    lovely 

things 
He  thought  he'd  like  old  Santa  Clans  to  leave  when  he  should 

call, 
It  filled  him  full  of  misery,  his  stocking  was  so  small. 

"He  cannot  get  a  quarter  of  the  things  I  want  therein! 
My  stockings  are  not  very  long,  and,  oh,  my  legs  are  thin  ! 
I  wonder  what  I'd  better  do — the  stockings  will  not  stretch  ; 
They  will    not    hold  a  hundredth    part    of  what  I  hope    he'll 
fetch'." 

And    then    he    asked     his    mamma    on    what   clay    old    Santa'd 

come, 
And    when    she    said    "On    Tuesday,"  he  just    bit    his    little 

thumb, 

And  said  :  "  Ha  !  ha  !    That's  drying-day  :  I've  got  a  little  plan  : 
I'll  go  and  see  the.  laundress."   said  this  funny  little  man. 

"I'll  tell  her  that  1  sort  of  think  she    ought  to  string  a   line 

From  mantel-pieec   to   window   in   that   nursery  of  mine, 

And    hang    the  stuekin^s    that.    1  wore   last   week— just  seven 

pair — 
I'liou  it,  so's  old  Santa  will  observe  'em  when  he's  there!" 


half,  and  on  one  side  paint  chrysanthemums,  morning-glories,  or 
any  flower  you  may  choose.  Then  cut  the  thin  white  paper,  or 
paper  the  color  of  the  flower  you  prefer,  of  the  exact  size  and 
shape  of  the  mat.  Lay  the  sheets  evenly  together,  fold  them 
also  midway,  slip  a  ribbon  through  the  centre,  and  tie  them  into 
place.  Attach  a  second  ribbon,  handsomer  and  wider,  at  each 
end  of  the  ease,  as  the  illustration  shows,  and  tie  it  so  as  to  form 
a  loop  finished  with  a  full  bow. 


A  SIMPLE   CASE   FOR   SHAVING-PAPERS. 

ALMOST  every  girl  wants  to  make,  a  gift  for  her  father  or 
big  brother  or  both.  If  any  of  these  gentlemen  shave,  the 
task  becomes  an  extremely  simple  one.  Shaving-papers  are 
sure  to  be  in  demand,  and  sure  to  need  constant  replenishing,  so 
that  even  the  question  of  their  being  already  supplied  ueed  not 
hamper  you  in  this  case. 

The  device  shown  in  the  drawing  is  quite  new,  and  is  really 
very  attractive  as  a  bit  of  decoration,  besides  which  it  is  very 


easy  to  make.  Almost  all  of  yon  can  paint  flowers,  if  nothing 
more.  If  any  cannot, they  must  choose  some  other  gift,  but  for 
those  who  can  and  do  this  one  has  much  to  commend  it. 

At  any  shop  devoted  to  the  sale  of  Japanese  goods,  buy  a  me- 
dium-sized bambno  table  mat.  Von  will  rind  that  there  are  sev- 
eral sorts,  some  much  ornamented,  others  little.  For  your  pur- 
pose select  the  plainest  of  all,  one  which  shows  only  the  bam- 
boo and  the  necessary  connect  ing  rows  of  twine. 

When   you   have   carried   your  treasure  home  fold  it  just  in 


THE     LITTLE    RED     BOOK. 

BY    ELLEN    DOUGLAS    DELAND. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

IT  was  the  night  of  the  play.      In  Eleanor's  little  room 
Mrs.  Rogers  was  putting  the  finishing  touches  to  her 
toilet.     The  young  girl  looked  very  pretty  in  her  white 
ball  dress,  which  had  been   made  for  the  occasion   from 
an  old  gown  of  her  mother's. 

It  was  covered  with  spangles,  which  glittered  and 
gleamed  in  the  light  for  all  the  world  like  real  diamonds, 
Eleanor  said.  How  they  laughed  when  Mrs.  Eogers 
fastened  on  the  wig!  , 

"  I  don't,  feel  as  if  you  were  my  own  daughter,"  said 
she.  ''  You  must  be  somebody  else's  child  !" 

"Oh.  mamma,  don't  say  that  even  in  fun  !"  cried  Elea- 
nor, casting  herself  into  her  mother's  arms,  greatly  to 
the  detriment  of  her  large  sleeves  and  delicate  frills  and 
ruffles.  "I  can't  imagine  anything  more  terrible  than  to 
be  somebody  else's  child!  You  are  just  the  most  perfect 
mother  that  anybody  ever  had  in  the  world.  But  tell 
me,  mamma,  how  does  the  wig  really  look?  Do  you 
think  it  will  stay  on  all  right?  Wouldn't  it  be  dreadful 
if  it  were  to  come  off!  I  should  be  so  mortified  I  should 
want  to  sink  through  the  floor.  How  perfect  it  would 
be  to  have  golden  hair  like  this  always  growing  out  of 
my  head!" 

"I  am  quite  satisfied  with  my  little  brown-haired 
daughter  as  she  really  is,''  said  Mrs.  Rogers,  smiling  at 
her  affectionately;  "  but  I  must  confess  that  the  new  top- 
knot is  very  becoming.  I  am  afraid  you  are  very  much 
excited,  dear,  your  eyes  are  so  bright,  and  you  have  SO 
much  color." 

"Oh  no,  mamma,  I'm  not  a  bit  excited!  I'm  as  calm 
as — as — a  waterfall.  Oh  no!  that  isn't  calm,  is  it?  A 
summer  sea!  Where  are  my  gloves?  And  now,  mam- 
ma, my  old  cinder  dress  must  go  on  over  all  my  grand- 
eur. It  is  a  shame,  isn't  it?  I  feel  exactly  like  a  cater- 
pillar that  is  going  to  burst  out  and  be  a  butterfly." 

Her  mother  put  on  her  the  loose  cloaklike  arrangement 
of  brown  gingham  that  was  to  serve  as  Cinderella's  first 
costume.  It  was  made  with  large  loose  sleeves  that  but- 
toned tightly  about  the  wrist,  and  it  reached  to  the 
ground.  The  upper  part  only  was  fastened,  the  skirt 
having  no  opening;  but  the  whole  was  arranged  in  such 
a  way  that  by  slipping  one  or  two  buttons  it  would 
readily  fall  to  the  floor. 

Over  the  little  silver  slippers  Eleanor  wore  a  pair  of 
large  cloth  over-shoes,  that  could  easily  be  kicked  off  at 
the  proper  moment. 

As  she  stood  before  her  mother  in  the  dingy  brown 
garment  it  was  hard  to  realize  that  it  was  the  radiant 
airy  creature  that  had  flashed  and  glittered  in  the  lamp- 
light a  moment  ago.  Only  the  golden  hair  and  the 
merry  brown  eyes  remained  the  same.  The  metamor- 
phosis was  complete. 

"  There  is  the Brewsters' carriage!"  exclaimed  Eleanor,as 
the  sound  of  wheels  was  heard.  "Just  as  I  am  all  ready. 
I  am  so  sorry  Mrs.  Brewster  is  in  Boston  and  can't  be 
here  to  see  us.  Now,  mamma,  do  get  there  early  so  as  to 
find  a  good  seat.  I  want  you  to  be  right  up  in  front. 
Good-by,  you  dear  darling!" 


DECEMBER  25,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


135 


And  with  a  parting  kiss.  Cinderella  ran  down  stairs. 
She  was  so  excited  and  happy  that  for  the  time  she  com- 
pletely forgot  her  falling  out  with  Madge,  and  the  trouble 
to  which  it  had  given  rise.  She  was  sure  that  Bertha 
had  sent  the  letter  to  her,  and  she  supposed  that  Madge 
was  also  connected  with  it.  Naturally  she  felt  very 
sore  about  it.  Next  to  her  mother  Eleanor  loved  Madge 
better  than  any  one  in  the  world.  She  had  thought  since 
the  receipt  of  the  letter  that  she  could  take  no  further 
interest  in  the  theatricals.  It  was  nothing  but  torture  to 
go  and  rehearse  a  part  that  Madge  wished  to  be,  and  it 
would  be  even  worse  to  act  it  when  the  time  came.  But 
the  hearty  cordiality  of  the  rest  of  the  company  and  Ruth 
Barnes's  determined  action  had  comforted  her,  and  if  she 
had  stopped  to  think  of  it  she  would  have  been  astonished 
to  find  how  much  she  was  enjoying  the  fun,  now  that  the 
exciting  evening  had  actually  arrived. 

That  day  in  school,  during  recess,  Madge  and  Bertha 
had  walked  to  their  favorite  tree  in  the  upper  part  of  the 
grounds.  To  say  that  they  had  walked  there  but  feebly 
expresses  it.  They  had  run  as  fast  as  they  could  go  in 
order  to  secure  the  coveted  place  before  any  one  else 
should  get  there.  It  was  the  favorite  spot  for  talking 
secrets,  as  there  was  no  possibility  of  being  overheard, 
the  approach  being  in  full  view.  The  tree  stood  alone, 
as  if  growing  solely  for  the  purpose  of  affording  a  shelter 
for  whispering  school  girls.  So  Madge  and  Bertha  took 
possession  to-day,  and  Madge  at  once  proceeded  to  de- 
mand a  release  from  her  promise. 

"  I  want  to  talk  it  over  with  mamma,"  said  she.  "I 
do  think,  Bertha,  you  might  let  me.  Mamma  is  very 
fond  of  Eleanor,  and  I  think  she  ought  to  know  it." 

"Madge  Barnes,  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing!  You 
sha'n't  tell  her  a  word  about  it.  You  promised  solemnly." 

"  But,  Bertha,  it  wouldn't  do  any  harm  to  tell  mamma." 

"  If  you  tell  her  I'll  tell  everybody  I  know  that 
Eleanor  Rogers  is  adopted,  and  came  out  of  an  orphan 
asylum.  I'll  tell  Eleanor  herself.  I'll — 

"Oh,  stop!"  cried  Madge,  "I  won't  tell.  But  I  do 
think  you're  awfully  mean,  Bertha  Weld !  And  if  you 
ever  do  tell  Eleanor,  or  any  one  else,  I'll  never  speak  to 
you  again.  Never!" 

"Oh,  very  well,  you  needn't.  But  you  want  to  tell  it 
yourself  to  some  one,  even  if  it  is  your  own  mother. 
What  is  the  object  of  telling  her?  As  far  as  I'm  con- 
cerned there  is  no  reason  why  she  should  know  it  any 
more  than  any  one  else.  It's  my  secret,  and  I'm  not 
going  to  have  any  one  know  it  unless  I  choose  to  tell  it." 

The  school-bell  rang,  and  they  went  back  to  the  house. 
Madge's  manner  was  so  cool  that  Bertha  feared  she  had 
said  too  much.  It  would  be  just  like  Madge  to  change 
again  and  be  friends  with  Eleanor.  If  she  did,  Bertha 
would  pay  them  both  up.  that  was  all. 

The  truth  was  that  Madge  was  beginning  to  tire  of 
Bertha's  uninterrupted  companionship.  She  missed  Elea- 
nor, and  she  was  ready  to  "  make  up."  After  all,  Eleanor 
had  really  done  the  right  thing  in  going  home  that  day. 
Madge  wished  she  had  done  the  same.  If  she  had  she 
would  not  have  discovered  the  fatal  entry  of  July  20th 
in  the  diary,  and  perhaps  Bertha  would  not  have 'found 
it.  If  only  Mrs.  Brewster  had  not  dropped  the  book  how 
much  better  it  all  would  have  been ! 

.  So  Madge  drove  to  the  Athenaeum  that  evening  with 
very  different  feelings  from  those  that  had  filled  her  heart 
for  several  days  before. 

There  were  a  number  of  girls  in  the  dressing-room 
when  she  and  her  sister  arrived;  among  them,  Bertha 
dressed  as  the  Cruel  Sister,  in  a  fine  green  silk  gown  that 
belonged  to  her  aunt;  and  Eleanor  in  her  brown  robe,  in 
which  to  sit  among  the  ashes. 

Madge  walked  up  to  her.  "Halloa,  Nell,  you  look  per- 
fectly sweet  in  that  wig!"  Then  she  whispered  in  her 
ear:  "  Nell,  I've  been  perfectly  hateful.  I'm  sorry." 


Eleanor  looked  at  her.  She  could  scarcely  believe  her 
eai-s.  It  was  so  very  unusual  for  Madge  to  say  that  she 
was  sorry,  or  to  admit  in  any  way  that  she  had  been  in 
the  wrong.  Then  the  brown  eyes  suddenly  grew  very 
happy. 

"Oh,  Madge,  don't  say  anything  more  about  it.  I've 
missed  you  terribly.  But  just  tell  me  one  thing.  Did 
you  write  the  letter.'" 

"No;  of  course  I  didn't.  Bertha  told  me  she  was 
going  to  do  something  to  get  the  part  for  me,  but  I  didn't 
know  what  it  was,  or  I  wouldn't  have  let  her  do  it." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad!"  said  Eleanor,  in  a  tone  of  relief. 
"  Of  course  I  knew  Bertha  was  at  the  bottom  of  it,  and  I 
was  so  afraid  you  had  something  to  do  with  it  too.  But 
there  is  Ruth  beckoning  to  us.  Madge,  you  look  lovely 
in  that  pink  dress!" 

Bertha  had  heard  the  first  remark  that  Madge  made, 
and  though  the  girls  afterwards  spoke  too  low  for  her  to 
distinguish  what  they  said,  she  could  readily  imagine 
what  it  was.  She  even  thought  she  caught  the  sound  of 
her  own  name.  It  was  perfectly  evident  that  Madge  was 
"  making  up." 

Her  heart  burned  within  her,  and  she  felt  more  than 
ready  to  enact  the  part  of  the  Cruel  Sister.  "I'll  pay 
her  up  for  this,"  she  murmured.  "I'll  get  ahead  of 
Eleanor  yet." 

Poor  Bertha!  She  had  not  many  friends,  and  she  did 
not  want  to  lose  Madge  again.  If  there  had  only  been 
some  one  to  tell  her  what  a  wrong  course  she  was  taking ! 

The  curtain  rose,  and  the  play  began.  Cinderella  is 
discovered  sitting  among-  the  ashes,  wishing  that  she,  too, 
could  go  to  the  ball.  Presently  the  two  Cruel  Sisters  en- 
ter, arrayed  in  their  finery  and  demanding  the  assistance 
of  the  little  cinder-wench.  They  depart  full  of  anticipa- 
tion, and  leave  the  little  one  in  tears  because  of  their  un- 
kind speeches. 

There  is  a  whizzing,  whirring  noise,  and  from  the 
chimney,  in  a  most  mysterious  manner,  steps  the  Fairy 
Godmother — a  little  old  woman  in  a  tall  "sugar-loaf" 
hat  and  a  short  red  petticoat,  carrying  a  silver  wand. 
She  bids  Cinderella  dry  her  eyes  and  go  to  the  ball. 

She  waves  her  wand  three  times,  the  brown  gingham 
gown  drops  to  the  floor,  and  Cinderella  emerges  in  all 
the  splendor  of  gala  attire,  stepping  daintily  out  of  the 
overshoes  in  dainty  gleaming  slippers.  The  sound  of 
prancing  steeds  and  the  shouts  of  coachman  and  foot- 
man—  in  fact,  a  whole  retinue  of  servants — are  hoard 
without,  and  the  curtain  falls  amid  the  applause  of  the 
audience. 

When  it  rises  again  the  scene  has  changed.  It  is  now 
the  brilliantly  lighted  ball-room.  Beautifully  dressed 
guests  are  moving  about,  the  King  and  Queen  sit  on  a 
throne  at  the  head  of  the  room,  the  Prince  opens  the  ball 
with  one  of  the  Cruel  Sisters. 

Suddenly  a  report  is  spread  that  a  beautiful  and  un- 
known Princess  has  arrived.  A  herald  announces  her. 
The  Prince,  when  he  sees  her,  impolitely  leaves  the 
Cruel  Sister  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  flies 
to  the  side  of  the  new  and  mysterious  beauty.  Hence- 
forth he  will  dance  with  none  but  her. 

The  clock  begins  to  strike.  Cinderella  flies  from  the 
room,  and  disappears  with  the  final  stroke  of  twelve, 
leaving  her  slipper  behind  her.  (The  funny  part  of  it 
was  that  the  slipper,  being  a  rather  close  fit,  refused  !u 
come  off,  so  Eleanor  had  to  stoop  down,  push  it  half  off, 
and  then  give  it  a  kick  back  into  the  centre  of  the  stage. 
Of  course  every  one  laughed,  and  enjoyed  the  scene  far 
more  than  if  the  shoe  had  been  dropped  in  orthodox  Cin- 
derella fashion.) 

Thus  far  all  had  gone  smoothly  and  well,  and  Ruth 
Barnes  was  entirely  satisfied  with  the  success  of  the  per- 
formance. Tlie  next  scene  was  again  that  of  Cinder- 
ella's home,  and  the  Cruel  Sisters  were  discussing  the 


136 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


CINDERELLA    EMERGES    IN    ALL    HER    SPLENDOR. 


ball  of  tin-  night  before,  and  the  mysterious  beauty  who 
had  vanished  as  suddenly  as  she  had  appeared,  leaving 
only  her  slipper  to  tell  the  tale. 

Then  a  herald  approached,  who  announced  that  the 
Prince  would  marry  whomsoever  the  slipper  should  fit. 
and  finally  the  Prince  himself,  followed  by  a  number  of 
attendants,  entered  and  proceeded  to  try  on  the  shoe. 

Each. sister  had  vainly  attempted  to  squeeze  her  foot 
into  it,  and  it  was  now  Cinderella's  turn.  Bertha,  as 
one  of  the  sisters,  had  to  say,  "What  right  have  you,  a 
mere  cinder-wench,  to  aspire  to  be  a  Princess?" 

In  addition  to  the  remark  she  walked  up  to  Cinderella, 
and  seizing  her  hair,  gave  il  a  sharp  twitch.  Off  canie 
the  beautiful  golden  wig.  and  was  held  aloft  in  Bertha's 
hand,  while  poor  little  Cinderella  was  left  with  the  close- 
ly cropped  locks  of  Eleanor  Rogers. 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence.  Then  every  one  be- 
gan to  laugh.  Louder  and  louder  rose  the  mirth,  in 
which  actors  too  were  forced  to  join.  Bertha  looked, 
triumphant.  She  had  accomplished  her  object. 

For  one  moment  Eleanor  was  silent.  She  felt  as  she 
told  her  mother  voiiKl  be  the  case  if  her  wig  were  to 
come  off.  She  would  like  to  sink  through  the  floor. 
Then  her  courage  rose,  and  her  ready  wit  came  to  her 
assistance.  She  turned  to  Bertha  as  soon  as  the  laughter 
had  somewhat  subsided,  and  she,  could  be  heard  sa3ring, 

"Oh,  sister,  you  have  pulled  all  my  hair  out  by  the 
roots!  But  I  have  a  fairy  godmother.  She  will  make  it 
grow  again." 

The  G-od mother  emerged  from  the  chimney,  seized  the 
wig  from  Bertha's  hand,  and  waving  her  wand.  said. 


"Grow,  hair,  and    make  Cinderella  more 
beautiful  than  ever." 

The  wig  was  quickly  put  back  in  its 
proper  position,  the  gingham  gown  again 
fell  off,  and  Cinderella  stood  before  them 
in  all  the  beauty  of  the  previous  even- 
ing, drawing  the  mate  to  the  slipper  from 
her  pocket. 

After  all,  the  unpleasant  little  incident 
had  turned  out  very  well ;  but  those  on  the 
stage  scorned  Bertha  for  the  unkind  trick, 
while  they  admired  Eleanor  all  the  more 
for  the  quick  way  in  which  she  had  risen 
to  the  occasion.  The  audience  thought  it 
was  part  of  the  play,  and  it  did  not  cause 
any  delay  in  the  progress  of  the  theatricals. 
Ruth  Barnes  was  very  angry.  She  had 
but  a  moment,  for  she  was  to  act  in  the 
second  play,  and  no  time  could  be  lost; 
but  her  words,  though  few.  were  to  the 
point. 

"You  have  done  a  most  contemptible 
thing,"  she  said,  "and  every  one  shall 
know  of  it." 

Bertha  was  frightened.  She  had  evi- 
dently gone  a  trifle  too  far. 

"I  did  not  know  it  would  come  oft'  so 
easily,"  she  exclaimed.  "I  —  1  was  only 
pulling  her  hair  just  as  the  cruel  sister  did 
in  the  story." 

But  Ruth  had  walked  away,  not  deigning  to  listen  to 
her  excuses. 

Bertha  continued  to  loudly  disclaim  having  had  any 
intention  of  really  pulling  off  the  wig.  She  went 
about  from  one  to  the  other. 

"Wasn't  it  dreadful?"  she  said.  "Who  ever  would 
have  dreamed  of  its  actually  coming  off!" 

But  the3"  looked  at  her  doubtfully,  and  Bertha  knew 
it.  Madge  refused  to  speak  to  her  at,  all. 

"Mean  old  thing!"  she  said  to  Eleanor,  quite  audi- 
bly. "I  am  never  going  to  have  another  thing  to  do 
with  her." 

Bertha  heard  her,  and  it  was  the  finishing  stroke. 
"I'll  punish  her.      I'll  punish  them  both!"  she  said  to 
herself,  vindictively.      Then  she  turned  and  approached 
a  group  of  girls  in  the  dressing-room. 

"I  am  so  sorry  that  happened,"  she  said.  "I  would 
rather  have  had  it  happen  to  any  one  but  Eleanor  Rog- 
ers, for  I  am  so  sorry  for  her.  Have  you  heard  about 
her?" 

"  No.     What  is  it?"  asked  one  or  two. 
"  Why,  haven't  you  heard?"  returned  Bertha,  in  tones 
of  great  surprise.     "It  is  said  that  she  isn't  Mrs.  Rogers's 
real  daughter  at  all,  but  only  adopted,  and  she  doesn't 
know  it." 

"  Why,  Bertha  Weld,  where  did  you  ever  hear  such  a 
thing  as  that?  Who  told  you?"  cried  May  Brewster. 

"  Never  mind  \\lio  told  me,"  said  Bertha,  nodding  her 
head  wisely,  with  an  air  of  great  mystery,  "but  it  was 
some  *me  who  knows  all  about  it,  and  it's  true.  She 
came  from  an  orphan  asylum.  But  hush!  Here  she 
comes." 

As  Eleanor  drew  near  with  Madge  an  awed  silence  fell 
upon  the  group,  and  they  looked  wouderingly  at  her. 
She  did  not  notice  it,  however. 

"Come  out  in  front,  girls,  and  watch  the  other  play. 
There  are  reserved  seats  for  us, "she  said. 

Then  they  joined  the  audience,  and  Eleanor,  sitting  by 
her  mother,  was  soon  absorbed  in  what  was  taking  place 
on  the  stage.  Neither  of  them  noticed  the  many  curious 
glances  that  were  directed  towards  them  by  the  half- 
dozen  girls  who  had  been  talking  with  Bertha  Weld. 

[TO    II K    roMINUED.] 


UNEXPECTED     RESCUERS. 


BY  CHARLES  G.  D.  ROBERTS. 


TI1HE  following  is  one  of  many  stories  told  by  a  great- 
_L  uncle  of  my  mother,  one  Benjamin  Bliss,  a  ship-mas- 
ter of  New  Bedford,  who  died  in  1867  at  the  ripe  age  of 
ninety-three.  The  old  seaman  was  garrulous,  so  I  have 
condensed  his  narrative  and  divested  it  of  its  curious  dic- 
tion ;  but  at  the  same  time  I  have  allowed  him  (as  he 
would  certainly  prefer  if  lie  could  be  consulted)  to  speak 
in  his  own  person. 

It  was  in  the  last  year  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and 
I  was  first  mate  in  the  Laughing  Sally. 

On  our  second  voyage  to  the  Gulf  of  Guinea  we  found 
it  hard  to  pick  up  the  kind  of  cargo  we  wanted.  At 
last,  one  calm  night,  as  we  were  lying  off  Cape  Palmas, 
with  little  puffs  of  air  coming  off-shore  every  minute  or 
two  as  hot  as  if  from  the  mouth  of  a  furnace,  the  Captain 
stepped  up  to  me  in  my  watch  and  said, 

"Ben,  we've  got  to  do  something  or  other  to  get  a 
cargo." 

"What's  to  be  done?"  said  I;  though  I  knew  very  well 
what  was  in  his  mind. 

"  If  we  can't  get  white  ivory,  we'll  have  to  put  up  with 
black,"  answered  Captain  Bill.  "  \Vf'll  run  down  to 
Cameroons  and  take  in  a  cargo  for  Charleston." 

"It  ain't  for  me  to  say  anything,  one  way  or  the  oth- 
er," said  I,  "  when  I  know  there's  better  men  than  I'll  ever 
be  who  think  it's  all  right  to  hold  slaves,  and  buy  slaves, 
and  sell  slaves.  But  I'm  free  to  confess  I  don't  like  it. 


Seems  to  me  they're  men,  same  as  we  are,  and  ought  to 
have  their  rights.  Furthermore,  I  kind  of  don't  like  to 
see  the  Sally  all  messed  up  with  blackbirds.  It  ain't  a 
nice  cargo  for  gentlemen  to  handle." 

"Oh,"  said  Captain  Bill,  with  a  little  laugh,  "don't 
worry  about  the  Sally.  She's  been  in  that  business  he- 
fore,  as  you'd  have  noticed  by  the  way  she's  fixed  up  in 
the  hold  if  you  had  ever  been  in  the  business." 

"  Well,  Captain,"  said  I.  very  respectfully,  "I've  said 
my  say,  and  I  know  my  business,  which  is  to  obey  orders. 
But  don't  think  hard  of  me  if  I  give  notice  that  after  this 
voyage  I  won't  be  able  to  ship  again  on  the  Salli/." 

"  I'll  be  sorry  if  you  stick  to  that,  Ben,"  said  the  Cap- 
tain, earnestly.  "And  I  don't  want  you  to  misunder- 
stand me  about  this  business.  I  reckon  I  feel  much  the 
same  as  you  do  about  it,  and  if  I  had  my  way  there 
wouldn't  be  any  slave  trade." 

A  fair  wind  blew  up  the  next  day,  and  we  made  so 
quick  a  run  that  the  hands  all  declared  the  Laugh- 
ing Sally  wanted  blackbirds.  We  ran  up  the  wide 
estuary  of  the  Cameroons  River,  and  cast  anchor  oil  I  lie 
mangrove  fringes  of  the  island  on  which  rose  the  stock- 
ades and  trading-houses  of  the  town  of  Cameroons,  fa- 
mous for  its  traffic  in  slaves  and  pepper. 

The  barrucoons  were  crowded,  reeking,  intolerable. 
Having  described  these  scenes  of  horror,  or  attempted  to 
describe  them,  in  earlier  pages  of  these  memoirs,  I  will 


•WE   ARE    NOT    JACKALS,"  SAID    THE    LEADER,   "TO    RUN. ...WHEN    THE    ENEMY    APPROACHES." 


138 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME    XVI. 


not  dwell  upon  them  now.  Suffice  to  say,  I  no  longer 
regretted  the  Captain's  decision,  but  only  wished  the 
Sally  were  ;i  bigger  ship,  in  order  that  we  might  carry 
oil' a  larger  number  of  the  unhappy  wretches  lo  an  ex- 
istence less  unendurable  than  that  of  the  barracoons. 

I  helped  the  Captain  in  making  his  selections,  and 
most  of  the  blacks  we  chose  were  young  men  of  the  or- 
dinary negro  type.  But  in  one  of  the  stockades  I  found 
a  score  of  tall  and  powerful  figures  shackled  to  the  walls, 
defiant  in  their  misery.  Their  great  stature,  proud  bear- 
ing, well-cut  noses,  and  more  jetty  hue  of  their  skins, 
showed  them  to  be  of  a  different  stock  from  the  tamer 
captives  about  them.  These  were  no  mere  victims  of  the 
slave-hunter,  but  warriors  overpowered  in  some  wild  bat- 
tle far  inland. 

Captain  Bill  was  determined  that  the  Sally  shouhln 't 
be  crowded,  as  I  have  already  said;  so  he  didn't  take 
what  a  regular  slaver  would  have  called  half  a  cargo. 
He  was  also  determined  that  the  Sally  should  be  toler- 
ably clean.  The  darkies  were  taken  aboard  in  small 
squads,  and  each  squad,  as  it  left  the  filthy  barracoons, 
was  marched  straight  down  into  the  water  and  compelled 
to  take  a  thorough  bath.  The  Cameroons  traders  thought 
we  were  crazy,  but  Captain  Bill  knew  what  he  was  about. 

As  for  those,  big  warriors  of  mine,  they  gave  us  a  peck 
of  trouble.  It  seemed  as  if  all  they  wanted  was  a  chance 
to  kill  somebody  and  then  get  killed  themselves.  We 
kept  such  a  sharp  eye  on  them  they  didn't  succeed  in  do- 
ing any  great  damage,  but  when  it  came  to  giving  them 
their  bath,  which  we  did  by  taking  them  along  two  at  a 
time,  they  tried  to  drown  themselves  by  falling  down  in 
the  water  and  holding  on  to  the  weeds  of  the  bottom  with 
their  teeth.  For  all  their  tantrums,  however,  our  men 
handled  them  kindly  enough,  according  to  my  strict  or- 
ders, and  I  reckon  they  were  rather  surprised  at  such 
gentle  treatment.  When  they  found  themselves  safely 
aboard  the  Sally,  and  fed  and  watered  without  being- 
kicked  or  beaten,  they  quieted  down  a  lot  and  became 
more  manageable. 

In  less  than  a  week  even  my  big  warriors  subsided 
into  a  sullen  sort  of  lazy  indifference,  and  submitted  to 
their  daily  bath  without  a  struggle.  Every  day  I  spoke 
to  them  in  such  of  the  coast  dialects  as  I  could  com- 
mand, but  for  a  long  while  could  not  make  out  whether 
I  was  understood  or  not,  till  at  last  one.  who  seemed  the 
proudest  of  them,  condescended  to  reply  in  the  Ashan- 
tee  language,  which  he  spoke  with  difficulty.  He  said 
that  he  was  a  chief  in  the  country  beyond  the  great 
river  (which  I  took  to  mean  the  Congo),  and  that  his 
tribe  had  been  utterly  destroyed  in  a  terrible  war.  He 
said  he  had  made  many  slaves  himself  in  his  day.  and 
now  his  own  turn  had  come,  but  that  he  would  not  long 
remain  a  slave  in  the  land  we  were  taking  him  to.  He 
and  his  brethren  would  soon  make  their  escape  into  the 
woods.  But  he  promised  that  now,  because  I  had  treated 
them  kindly,  they  would  make  no  trouble  in  the  ship  if 
I  would  ease  their  fetters  and  give  the  same  freedom  that 
the  other  captives  enjoyed.  After  consulting  the  Cap- 
tain and  obtaining  his  permission,  I  agreed  to  this,  and  I 
found  the  tall  chief  as  good  as  his  word.  The  warriors 
from  beyond  the  great  river  had  evidently  made  up  their 
minds  that  nothing  could  be  done  for  freedom  until  they 
should  once  more  find  themselves  on  dry  land. 

When  we  were  in  latitude  8°  N.,  bowling  merrily 
northward  with  a  stiff  breeze  from  the  east,  we  sighted  a 
sail  to  starboard.  At  first  we  paid  the  stranger  little  at- 
tention; but  presently  observing  that  she  had  changed 
her  course  and  was  standing  directly  toward  us,  we  grew 
a  bit  uneasy.  We  held  on  as  we  were,  however,  for  the 
better  part  of  an  hour,  while  Captain  Bill,  with  bis  glass 
at  his  eye,  watched  her  narrowly.  She  was  a  barken- 
tiue,  low  in  the  hull,  with  a  great  rake  to  her  masts,  and 
carrying'  a  pile  of  canvas 


''Let's  show  her  our  colors!''  said  Captain  Bill  to  me. 
I  gave  the  order,  and  the  Stars  and  Stripes  streamed  out 
from  the  Sally'*  masthead.  But  the  stranger  made  no 
response. 

"  I  don't  like  the  look  of  her  at  all,"  remarked  the  Cap- 
tain presently,  and  he  handed  me  the  glass. 

"She's  got  a  gait,"  said  I,  "  but  I  reckon  we  can  show 
her  our  heels  if  she's  dangerous." 

"  Not  on  this  point.  I'm  thinking."  replied  the  Captain, 
taking  the  glass  again.  In  another  moment  he  shut  the 
glass  with  a  snap,  and  began  roaring  his  orders  in  a  voice 
that  made  us  all  skip.  In  less  than  no  time  the  Laugh- 
ing Sally  was  running  free  before  the  wind,  shaking  her 
head  as  if  she  had  got  the  bit  in  her  teeth,  and  dashing 
great  clouds  of  spray  from  under  her  counter.  Not  a 
word  of  explanation  did  Captain  Bill  vouchsafe  till  the 
stunsails  were  run  out  and  the  Sally  was  staggering 
under  every  rag  she  could  carry.  Staggering,  did  I  say? 
No,  living  like  a  bird.  The  stranger  altered  her  course, 
and  came  on  after  us,  running  out  a  big  spinnaker  that 
fairly  seemed  to  lift  her  out  of  the  water. 

"I  calculate,"  said  Captain  Bill,  as  he  watched  the 
progress  of  our  pursuer,  "that  that  there  barkentine  is 
no  other  than  the  Black  Meg.  And  if  so,  why.  she  can 
lick  the  Sally  both  at  fighting  and  running.  But  with 
this  breeze  back  of  us  she  ain't  going  to  overtake  us 
quid'.  I'm  thinking." 

"  What  metal  does  she  carry?"  I  inquired. 

"Broadside  enough  to  blow  us  out  of  the  water,"  said 
Captain  Bill,  "if  she  gets  a  chance  to  use  it.  But  I've 
heard  her  bow  pivot  ain't  heavier  than  ours.  I  reckon 
we  might  make  shift  to  move  our  long  Tom  aft,  and 
take  a  few  shots  at  that  rascal's  rigging." 

I  sprang  forward  to  superintend  the  moving  of  the 
gun.  while  Evans,  the  second  mate,  with  three  or  four  of 
the  crew,  fetched  up  the  muskets  and  cutlasses  and 
served  out  the  ammunition.  All  this  preparation  went 
on  in  a  grim,  determined  silence  that  meant  business. 
It  was  a  slow  job  getting  the  long  18-pounder  into  its 
new  position,  and  meanwhile  the  pirate  was  gradually 
reducing  his  distance.  Presently  the  black  Hag  flut- 
tered to  his  peak. 

"Now  we'll  hear  from  Spanish  Joe!"  exclaimed  the 
( 'aplain,  cheerfully.  The  words  were  scarcely  out  of  his 
mouth  when  a  puff  of  white  smoke  veiled  the  Black 
Mi'i/'ft  bows,  and  a  round  shot  ricochetted  past  the  Sally 
some  fifteen  fathoms  to  starboard. 

"Hurry  up,  boys,"  cried  the  Captain,  "and  we'll  try 
and  show  'em  some  better  shooting  than  that." 

Four  shots  the  pirate  fired  before  we  were  ready  to 
reply,  but  only  the  fourth  came  aboard.  It  carried  away 
a  stanchion  and  knocked  out  a  piece  of  the  bulwark,  but 
did  no  further  damage.  The  attack  was  at  long'  range, 
and  was  evidently  made  in  the  hope  of  checking  our 
flight  by  a  lucky  shot.  Spanish  Joe  was  probably  as- 
tonished at  the  Sally's  speed. 

When  the  long  18-pounder  was  at  last  in  position  and 
loaded,  Captain  Bill  trained  her  himself.  Very  deliber- 
ately he  sighted  her.  calculating  the  pitching  of  the  ship, 
and  just  at  the  right  moment  he  fired.  It  was  a  lucky 
shot  It  caught  the  boom  of  the  spinnaker,  and  to  our 
delight  we  saw  the  great  sail  collapse.  Our  crew  broke 
into  a  cheer,  and  Captain  Bill  remarked: 

"  That  takes  some  of  the  legs  otV  her.  She  won't  crawl 
up  on  the  Sally  quite  so  quick  now." 

This  was  true.  Without  the  spinnaker  the  Black  Meg 
could  just  about  hold  the  Sally  even  before  the  wind. 
For  the  next  half  hour  or  so  there  was  no  perceptible 
change  in  the  relative  positions  of  the  two  ships,  and  the 
shots  that  were  exchanged  did  no  damage  to  speak  of  on 
either  side. 

"  How's  this  thing  going  to  end,  anyway?"  said  I  to  the 
Captain,  quietly,  while  the  gun  was  being  loaded. 


DECEMBER  25,  1394. 


HAPtPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


139 


"Oil,"  said  he  "I'm  thinking  we  may  possibly  pull 
through  if  the  Sally's  luck  stands  by  her." 

"How?"  I  asked.  "Within  the  next  ten  minutes 
we'll  sight  the  coast  of  Venezuela  dead  ahead;  and  next 
thing,  at  this  rate,  we'll  be  on  it.  There  it  is  now!" 

"Port!"  yelled  Captain  Bill  at  once.  "Keep  her 
away  two  points."  Then  turning  again  to  me,  he  said: 
"We're  heading  now  for  one  of  the  mouths  of  the  Orino- 
co. I  used  to  know  the  navigation  of  it  well.  It  has  a 
bar  which  I  reckon  we  can  pass,  but  yon  scoundrel  draws 
too  much  water  for  it,  I'm  thinking.  Once  past  the  bar, 
the  channel's  deep  enough,  so  we  can  run  as  far  inland 
as  we  like,  and  slip  out  by  another  mouth." 

My  hopes  rose  considerably  at  this.  The  immediate 
danger  was  that  a  shot  from  the  Black  Meg  might  fetch 
one  of  our  spars,  and  so  disable  us  that  we  would  be  over- 
taken before  gaining  our  hoped-for  refuge. 

"Captain,"  said  I,  "instead  of  aiming  at  the  rigging, 
let  us  fire  at  the  big  gun." 

With  a  nod  of  assent  the  Captain  proceeded  once  more 
to  train  our  trusty  weapon  on  the  foe.  Eagerly  we 
watched  him  as  he  fired.  The  shot  passed  within  about  six 
feet  of  the  pirate's  gun,  and  crashed  into  his  forecastle. 

"You'll  fetch  it  next  time,  Captain,"  cried  Evans,  en- 
thusiastically. And  our  gun  crew  made  haste  to  swab 
out  and  load  again. 

"I'm  thinking  I've  got  the  range  down  pretty  fine 
now,"  said  Captain  Bill,  and  as  he  tired  the  next  shot  he 
smiled  amiably. 

As  the  smoke  blew  off  to  starboard  our  crew  broke 
into  cheers.  The  enemy's  gun  carriage  was  shattered  to 
fragments,  and  the  dangerous  gun  was  no  longer  in  view. 
Every  one  on  the  Sally  was  jubilant. 

About  eight  bells  in  the  afternoon  we  found  ourselves 
well  inshore  and  close  on  the  bar,  the  Captain  in  the 
bow  scanning-  the  water  narrowly.  It  was  an  anxious 
moment  for  all.  If  we  should  run  aground,  we  were 
done.  The  Black  Meg  could  come  up  and  give  us  her 
broadsides,  and  then  take  her  time  about  finishing  us. 
But  Captain  Bill  never  hesitated.  The  Sally  raced  on, 
cleared  the  bar  without  a  g-i-ate,  and  we  found  ourselves 
in  a  spacious  channel  between  low  dense- wooded  shores. 
Straight  ahead  we  steered,  but  not  liow  so  fast  as  in  the 
open,  for  the  ebb  tide  combined  with  the  current  of  the 
stream  to  retard  us,  and  the  pirate  began  to  creep  up  on 
us  perceptibly,  till  his  bow  gun  found  our  range.  By 
this  time  he  was  getting  so  near  the  bar  that  we  began 
to  fear  the  Captain  had  made  a  mistake,  and  we  were  in 
a  trap.  But  no.  Suddenly  there  was  a  movement  in 
our  pursuer's  sails.  Gracefully  the  beautiful  but  evil- 
looking  craft  came  about,  and  in  a  very  few  minutes  she 
was  lying  to  just  outside  the  bar.  Ten  minutes  later  we 
rounded  a  curve  of  the  stream,  and  nothing  of  the  pirate 
remained  in  view  except  her  topmasts.  The  Captain 
gave  the  order  to  shorten  sail,  as  the  channel  was  get- 
ting intricate,  and  the  Sally  went  on  for  half  an  hour 
at  a  more  deliberate  pace.  We  were  just  congratulating 
ourselves  on  being  so  well  out  of  the  scrape,  when  all  at 
once  the  Sally  stag'gered,  stopped,  heeled  over,  and  with 
a  crash  her  mainmast,  with  its  great  weight  of  canvas, 
went  by  the  board.  We  had  run  aground. 

This  was  a  desperate  calamity,  but  there  was  110  con- 
fusion. In  a  twinkling  all  canvas  was  taken  in,  and  the 
wreck  was  cleared  away.  Then  the  Captain  held  a  con- 
sultation with  Evans  and  me.  As  far  as  the  accident 
was  concerned,  that  was  no  fault  of  his.  The  channel 
had  shifted.  But  what  was  to  be  done?  The  masts  of 
the  pirate  were  still  visible  to  us,  and  we  knew  that  our 
predicament  would  soon  be  quite  clear  to  him.  Then  he 
would  send  out  his  men  in  boats  to  attack  us,  and  small 
chance  would  our  handful  stand  against  them.  Should 
we  stay  and  fight,  or  would  we  take  the  boats  and  en- 
deavor to  escape  up  the  river? 


"  It's  next  thing  to  cutting  our  own  throats,  I'm  think- 
ing," said  Captain  Bill;  "but  if  you  gentlemen  are 
agreed,  I'm  for  fighting,  and  for  blowing  up  the  Sally 
at  last,  if  necessary." 

"  I'm  with  you,  Captain!"  exclaimed  Evans  and  I.  both 
at  once. 

"And  what'll  the  crew  say  to  this  plan?"  asked  Evans. 

"  Bless  you,  don't  I  know  every  man  of  them?"  replied 
Captain  Bill.  "It's  just  what  they  want.  Do  you  sup- 
pose they're  going  to  skip  out  and  leave  their  little  bun- 
dles of  ivory  and  dust  to  those  fellows?" 

"And  what  about  the  poor  creatures  down  in  our 
hold  '."  I  asked. 

"  Well,"  said  the  Captain,  "  we've  got  to  lose  on  that 
trade,  and  we'll  be  the  luckiest  crowd  that  ever  sailed  out 
of  New  Bedford  if  we  don't  lose  everything,  and  our 
nocks  too.  We'll  set  the  nigs  all  free,  and  let  them  take 
to  the  woods.  There's  lots  of  fruit  in  the  woods,  and  if 
we  give  them  a  few  barrels  of  biscuit  they'll  be  able  to 
take  care  of  themselves." 

There  was  no  time  to  lose,  as  the  slaves  were  to  be 
cleared  out  before  the  approach  of  the  pirates.  I  went 
into  the  hold  to  explain  to  them  what  they  were  to  do. 
They  had  been  wildly  excited  during  the  chase  and  the 
firing,  and  at  first  I  had  some  difficulty  in  making  my- 
self comprehended.  First  I  told  them  that  if  the  pirates 
who  were  chasing  us  succeeded  in  capturing  us  they 
would  kill  most  of  the  slaves  and  sell  the  rest  in  Cuba, 
which  would  be  as  bad  as  the  barracoons,  if  not  worse. 
But  when  I  made  them  understand  that  they  were  all  to 
go  free  to  land,  and  be  slaves  no  longer,  they  were  crazy 
with  delight.  Turning  to  my  tall  warriors,  I  told  them 
to  take  the  rest  in  charge,  and  help  us  get  them  out  of  the 
way  before  the  fight.  From  the  way  those  fellows  went 
to  work  it  was  plain  to  .see  that  they  were  used  to  posi- 
tions of  command. 

First  we  sent  off  the  women  and  children,  and  then 
the  men,  in  boatload  after  boatload.  The  blacks  them- 
selves did  all  the  work — but  not  those  big  warriors.  They 
only  superintended,  and  got  a  lot  more  out  of  the  workers 
than  we  could.  When  the  last  load  was  going  off,  with 
the  provisions,  and  a  few  muskets  and  cutlasses  which  we 
thought  they  might  be  trusted  with,  I  was  astonished  to 
see  my  big  chief,  followed  by  ten  of  his  brethren,  ap- 
proach, with  many  gestures  of  humility  and  submission, 
very  different  from  their  ordinary  haughty  bearing.  He 
explained  that  since  we  had  given  him  and  his  brethren 
their  freedom,  and  made  them  all  men  again,  and  treated 
them  kindly,  they  knew  we  were  their  friends. 

"We  are  not  jackals,"  said  their  leader,  "  to  run  and 
hide  in  the  woods  when  the  enemy  approaches.  Give 
us  arms,  and  we  will  fight  at  your  side  like  brothers, 
and  never  give  back  one  foot  as  long  as  we  remain 
alive." 

I  grasped  the  speaker's  hand,  and  explained  his  offer  to 
the  Captain  and  crew.  These  were  no  mean  addition  to 
our  strength,  as  they  would  be  superb  in  a  hand-to-hand 
conflict,  and  we  could  see  that  they  were  fighters,  every 
inch  of  them.  We  had  no  hesitation  in  trusting  them. 
Captain  Bill  declaring  that  he  knew  the  breed.  We 
armed  them  with  our  heaviest  broadswords,  which  they 
handled  lovingly,  and  their  eyes  began  to  glow  like  live 
coals  as  they  drew  themselves  up  and  once  more  sniffed 
battle.  They  were  put  under  my  direct  command,  as  I 
was  the  only  one  who  could  communicate  with  them. 

The  spot  where  the  Laughing  Sally  had  run  aground, 
unfortunately,  was  just  beyond  a  small  island  in  mid- 
river,  which  shut  out  all  view  of  the  channel  below.  We 
knew  that  the  pirates  would  take  full  advantage  of  this, 
and  dart  upon  us  in  their  boats  from  both  sides  at  once. 
There  would  be  no  time  to  give  them  more  than  one  shot 
from  each  of  our  three  cannon.  Still,  we  made  up  our 
minds  that  these  should  count  for  something.  We  trained 


140 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


the  two  6 -pounders  on  one  end  of  the  island  around 
which  the  enemy  would  appear,  and  the  faithful  long 
Tom,  double-shotted,  we  directed  upon  the  other  channel. 
< ';i  plain  Bill  was  not  without  experience  in  war  by  land 
ns  well  as  by  sea. 

It  was  but  a  few  minutes  we  had  to  wait  ere  the  pirates 
were  upon  us.  Their  boats  darted  around  both  ends  of 
the  island  at  once.  Our  cannon  roared,  but  two  of  the 
shots  went  low,  struck  the  water,  and  bounded  clear  over 
the  enemy.  Tiie  third  shattered  a  boat  and  crew.  The 
next  instant  the  pirates  were  swarming'  on  all  sides  over 
our  bulwarks,  and  the  fierce  struggle  that  followed  seems 
to  me  now  like  a  confused  dream,  filled  with  shouts  and 
breathless  effort,  and  everywhere  those  black  Samsons 
fighting  like  heroes.  It  seemed  at  last,  however,  that  the 
battle  was  going  against  us;  but  suddenly  there  arose  a 
series  of  yells  all  around  the  ship,  and  a  throng  of  ne- 


groes came  tumbling  over  the  bulwarks.  Some  in  the 
boat,  some  on  logs,  some  swimming,  they  had  thrust  out 
from  shore  to  our  rescue,  led  by  those  big  warriors  who 
had  been  put  in  charge  of  them.  A  few  were  armed  with 
cutlasses,  the  rest  with  clubs  and  branches  merely;  but 
their  coming  decided  the  day  in  a  twinkling,  and  the  pi- 
rates seemed  to  melt  from  the  Sally's  deck,  so  swiftly 
sped  they  over  the  side  into  their  boats,  and  away. 

To  our  black  allies  our  gratitude  knew  no  bounds.  We 
gave  them  all  the  biscuit,  beef,  muskets,  and  ammunition 
that  we  could  spare,  and  we  offered  to  take  my  big  war- 
riors back  to  Africa  on  our  next  voyage.  But  they  pre- 
ferred to  stay  in  the  new  land.  When  the  Sally  was 
sufficiently  repaired  we  sailed  on  up  the  river  till  we  en- 
tered a  new  and  larger  channel,  then  out  of  the  Orinoco, 
and  down  the  coast  to  Paramaribo  for  a  new  mainmast. 
And  of  the  Black  Meg  we  saw  no  more. 


PAPA'S     ROD. 

a  Christmas   BMag  In  Gbrcc  a  c  t  e. 

BY  MARGARET   BUTTON   BRISCOE. 


CHARACTERS: 
PAPA.  MAMMA.          Ton,  an  only  son. 

MIU.Y  and  JKNNY,  his  small  sisters 

ACT  I. 


//  Christinas  tree  half  decorated.     The  remaining  decorations  stn  //• 
the  floor.     A  small  table  set  with  a  supper  tray  stands  at  -right. 
Milly  and  Jenny  discovered  at  left  playing  with  tin  ir  dolls. 
Mi////  (lai/ing  her  dull  in  its  crib  and  rocking  it).  We  must  hurry. 
7V///,  —Cliristnias  i  n-.     The  curtain  rises  on  a  children's  ni/rsery.      Jenny,  or  supper  will  he  quite  cold.     Isn't  your  child  in  hed  ye'l? 
A  door  at  right,  a  semnd  door  at  left.     In  the  background  stands      I've  put  mine  to  bed,  and  she's  almost  asleep. 

Jenny  (slipping  on  her  doll's  niffht 
dnss).  My  eliild  has  been  so  naughty 
to-night!  Her  arms  are  all  elbows,  and 
won't  go  into  the  sleeves.  I'm  afraid 
she's  been  listening  to  Tom.  What 
does  make  Tom  so  naughty,  Milly? 

Mil/i/.  I'm  sure  I  don't  know.  Some- 
times I'm  glad  my  child's  ears  are 
stopped  with  wax  so  that  she  can't  hear 
everything  lie  says. 

•!>  n  ny  (laying  her  doll  in  its  cradle 
anil  nicking  it.  sings) — 

Hush-a-bye,  don't  you  cry. 

Go  to  sleep,  little  baby. 
Horses  gray,  black,  and  hay, 

All  for  you.  little  baby. 

Now  rny  child's  asleep,  and  I'm  ready 
for  supper. 

Mill/1.  Lay  all  the  baby  clothes 
straight,  dear,  while  I  pour  out  the 
tea. 

[Milly  mores  to  the  tea-table,  while 
Jenny  folds  the  baby  clothes  neat- 
ly.    A  l'»id  stamping  is  heard. 
Jenny.  Oh,  1  hear  Tom  coming! 
Milly.  Hide    the     babies,    Jenny  — 
quick!     He's  so  bad  to  ihem. 

[Jenny  drairs  a  light  screen  about 
the  dolls'  cradles,  and  hurries  to 
her  plane  at  table. 

Enter  Tom  by  right  entrance.  lie 
Jlings  his  cap  on  the  floor,  and  drags 
a  chair  to  the  table. 

Milly  and  Jenny.  Good  -  evening, 
Tom. 

Tom  (roughly).  Even'.  Where's  my 
tea? 

[lie  takes  up  tin-  en/i  Milly  offers 
him.  tastes  the  cmili  nts,  makes  a 
face  of  disgust,  and  leans  over  the 
table  fur  the  sugar-bowl. 
Mill;/.   Oh,  Tom,  wait!     You  almost 
upset  the  tray'.      I'll    give   you   some 
sugar. 

'/I////.  Some!  1  know  your  sums. 
They're  all  short  additions,  they  are. 
You  give  me  that  sugar-bowl! 

Milly  (passing  a  spoon  with  the  bowl). 
Here's  a  spoon,  Tom,  that  you  can 
use. 

Tii-m.   I  don't  want  any  spoon. 
^^^^^H       [He  pours  the  sugar  into  his  cup 
I    HEAR   TOM    COMING!"  from  t lie  bold. 


DECEMBER  25,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


141 


.  Jenny.  Oh,  you  took  as  much  as 
ten  spoonfuls,  and  Mamma  says  only 
two. 

Tom.  Well,  then,  I'm  taking  less  than 
she  said,  for  I  didn't  use  a  spoon  at 
all;  so  you  measure  me  two  more 
good  spoonfuls.  Milly. 

Milly.  Tom,  I  won't.   You'll  be  sick. 

Tom.  You  do  as  I  tell  you.  or  I'll 
bleed  your  dollies.  Where  are  they, 
anyhow? 

[He  glance*  aroundthe  room. 

Mil!//  (quickly).  Here's  the  sugar, 
Tom,  and  here's  the  jam  too,  and  some 
nice  cold  bread  and  butter. 

'Finn  (mimicking).  Nice  cold  fiddle- 
sticks! You  know  it's  nasty,  or  you 
wouldn't  say  nice.  You  never  say 
nice  cold  ice-cream,  do  you? 

Milly.  Don't  eat  with  your  fingers, 
Tom.  ' 

Tom.  I  will,  just  because  I  hate 
nursery  suppers.  I'm  old  enough  to 
go  to  the  dinner-table  and  eat  what  I 
want.  Jo  Bootblack  eats  anything  lie- 
wants,  and  he  can  knock  me  into  the 
middle  of  next  week.  He  laid  me  out 
flat  on  the  pavement  just  now. 

Mil/-!/.  Then  that's  what  makes  you 
so  cross.  Tom,  you  know  Mamma 
doesn't  like  you  to  fight. 

Tom.  Is  she  going  to  come  out  and 
settle  my  disputes  for  me?  Some- 
body's got  to.  Jo's  mother,  she  licks 
him  if  lie  doesn't  lick  the  other  boy. 
That's  some  sense,  that  is.  I  wish  my 
folks  had  as  much  sense  as  Jo's. 

Milly  and, fi  -n.1,1/.  Oh,  Tom!  Tom! 

Tom.  Well,  I  do.  Where  are  those 
doll  babies?  I'll  bet  they  haven't  been 
spanked  to-day. 

Jenny  (half  crying).  You  sha'n't 
whip  in}1  baby,  Tom.  I  won't  have  it. 
How  would  you  like  to  be  whipped? 

Tom.  Huh!  I'd  like  to  see  anybody 
try  to  wkip  me.  Even  father  wouldn't 
dare  to.  Here  he  comes  now.  Don't 
you  tell  him  I  said  that,  or  I'll  wring 
your  babies'  heads  off. 
'Enter  by  left  entrance  Papa  and  Mam- 
ma, liiili-u  irith  packages  of  all  shapes 

and  sizes. 

Papa.  Christmas  gifts!  Christmas 
gifts! 

[The  three  children  crowd  around, 
feeling  the  packages  and  laugh- 
ing. 

Mamma:.  Be  off  with  you!  These 
are  not  to  be  opened  till  Christmas 
night.  Take  away  the  tea-tray,  Milly, 
and  let  us  pile  the  presents  011  the  ta- 
ble. 

[Milly  tithes  the  tray  out,  and  returns. 

lilill  nil.   till    fll/l/l'. 

Tom.  Papa,  I  do  hope  you  haven't  got  me  a  baby  present. 
Have  you? 

Papa.  Come  here,  you  young  scapegoat.  What  do  you  think 
you  deserve?  Look  at  the  Christmas  gifts  you  have  brought  me. 
(He  drains  a  sheaf  of  letters  from  his  pocket,  and  runs  them  oner.) 
Bill  from  the  glazier  for  neighbor's  windows  broken  by  son  Tom. 
Ditto  from  carpenter  for  repairing  fence  broken  by  son  Tom. 
Locksmith,  for  lock  broken  by  son  Tom.  Bell  hanger,  for  wire 
broken  by  son  Tom.  Seriously  speaking,  son  Tom,  you  will  have 
to  remember  that  father's  patience  and  his  purse  both  have  a 
limit.  I  mean  that,  my  boy. 

Ton  (sulkily).  Yes,  sir. 

Mamma.  Now,  children,  while  Papa  and  I  are  dining,  do  you 
finish  decorating  the  tree,  and  lay  all  these  presents  carefully 
about  its  root.  Papa  has  brought  you  such  lovely  things!  Re- 
member, you  are  not  to  untie  a  single  string  before  to-morrow 
night.  Then  we'll  light  the  tree,  and  what  a  happy  Christmas 
night  we  shall  have! 

Pitpn.  Come,  come,  my  dear!  I  am  as  hungry  as  Santa  Claus 
on  Christmas  morning. 

Mamma.   Don't  let  the  wrappings  slip,  children,  and — 

Papa  (laughing  and  hurrying  Mamma  off).   Come,  come! 

Tom  (as  the  door  closes).   I'm  going  to  look  at  my  presents  noic. 

Milly.  Oh,  Tom!  Mamma  said  not  to. 

Tom,  Why  doesn't  she  take  us  to  dine  with  her.  then?  Jo 
Bootblack  eats  with  his  father  and  mother.  He  says  he  never 


The  packages  are  all 


'DO  YOU  WANT  YOUR  HEAD  OUT  3" 


heard  of  such  doings  as  nursery  suppers.     He  says  he  wouldn't 
stand  it. 

Jtnny.  I  don't  see  what  that's  got  to  do  with  opening  Mamma's 
presents.  I  should  think  you'd  be  ashamed,  Tom.  Mother  says 
they're  so  beautiful,  too. 

Tom.  I'm  not  going  to  wait  for  to-morrow.  I'm  going  to  un- 
tie my  gifts,  and  tie  them  up  again  so  nobody  will  know. 

Milly.  Oh,  Tom,  don't! 

Turn  (turning  over  the  packages).  Tom.  don't!  I  believe  you 
were  born  saying  that.  Look  here!  If  either  of  you  tell  on  me, 
I'll — I'll  dismember  your  babies.  You  don't  know  what  that 
means,  but  it's  something  airfttl.  Here's  one  of  my  presents,  with 
my  name  on  it.  I'll  open  this  first.  (lie  picks  out  a  long  package 
and  loosens  the  string.)  I  don't  see  what  it  can  be.  What  was 
that?  \_A  bit  of  paper  flutters  to  the  floor,  irliicJi  Mill}'  picks  up. 

Milly  (falteringli/).   Oh,  Tom ! 

Tom  (angrily).  There  you  go  again!     What's  written  on  that? 

Milly.  It's  Papa's  handwriting. 

Tom  (stamping  his  foot).   Head  it,  I  say!     Read  it  this  minute! 

Milly  (reading).  "  To  be  broken  on  Tom's  back  for  his  own  good." 

Tom.  What!    (//<  tears  off  the  wrapping-paper,  iii*rinsii,i;u  heav; 
stick,  which  he  drops  mi  the  table.)    To  break  on  my  back  !     I 
stand  it — I  won't!     I'll  go  where  they  know  how  to  treat  a  fel- 
low, that's  what   I'll  do.      (11   i./iatc/i/.i  up  his  hul  fi-"u>   the  floor.} 
Millv,  you  can  tell  father  I'm  never  coming  back  here  anv  iimn 
;ni(i  it's  not  worth  while  to  look  for  me.     You  girls  can  keep  your 
old  babies  in  peace  now.     I'm  gone  for  good. 

[Jenny  uiul  Milly  eliug  t"  him. 


142 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


Mitty.  Oh,  Tom,  don't !— don't,  Tom! 

Jenny.  You  c:in  di*r<  number  my  babies,  or  anylhing,  if  you  11 
stay,  Tom. 

Tom  (In-ashing  his  sleeve  across  fas  eyes).  I'm  gone,  girls.  1 II 
never  comeback  till  I'm  a  President  or  something.  I'll  show  father 
what — a — mistake — he's  made. 

[He  breaks  awtn/  ami  i-nslns  nut  right  entrance. 

Mi//i/  ami . I, mil/.  Oh,  Papa!  Papa!  Mamma!  Mamma!    Oh!  oh! 
/•;///,/•  Papa  and  Mamma  hastily  by  left  entrance,  theirtablt  imjikin." 
Untti  rimj  in  tl:,  1 1-  In i  mix. 

Papa  and  Mamma.   What  is  it?    Quick,  quick!    What  is  it? 

Mil/>/  <nitl  Jenny  (sobbing,  and  running  In  their  parents).  Papa! 
Papa!'  Mamma!  oh,  Mamma! 

ACT  II. 
Time. — Christmas  11  if/fit.     Kame  see/a:     Milly  in/r/.Icnny  discovered 

dressing  the  Christmas  tree.     A  number  of  packages  are  /ilnn-d 

about  its  root.     A  ball  of  twine  and  some  large  sheets  of  brnirn 

writ  \i\ii  in  i  IHI  iier  lie  fin  the  table,  irilh  sereral  bunks,  "  work-basket, 

a  hand-glass,  and  <>tli<  r  gifts  unirrapped. 

Jenny  (standing  /""•/•'  t<>  l»"k  "/'  "'  '/"'  tree).  Isn't  it  too  pretty? 
Now  we  must  call  Papa  and  Mamma  to  light  the  candles. 

Milly.  No,  no;  we  must  first  wrap  all  our  Christmas  gifts  to 
them. 

Jenny.  Oh  yes!     I  forgot.  [They  turn  to  the  table. 

Milly  (liftin}/  the  irofk-basket).  Here's  my  present  to  mother.  I'll 
wrap  that. 

Jenny  (taking  up  <i  hunk  and  wrapping  it).  Here's  mine  to  faihrr. 
I'll  wrap  thai. 

Milly  (lifting  tli,'  hand-gliisn).  Oh,  Jenny,  here's  Tom's  present  to 
mother.  What  shall  we  do  with  it? 

Jenny.  I  don't,  know,  I'm  sure.  Il's  so  very  queer  about 
Tom. 

Mi////.  I  thought  Papa  and  Mamma  would  he  so  frightened 
about  him,  and  they  don't  seem  to  care  at  all.  Papa  just  says, 
"  Dress  your  Christmas  tree,  my  dears,  and  don't  frel." 

Jenny.  And  Mamma  just  laughs  too.  It  seems  to  me  kind  of 
heartless  to  be  having  trees  lighted,  with  Tom  out  in  the  cold 
streets,  perhaps. 

Milly.  It's  snowing  hard,  too. 

[The  dour  ut  right  swings  half  open;  Tom's  fiend  appears. 

Jenny.  Oh,  Milly,  you  make  me  cry!  I'd  rather  have  my  ba- 
bies spanked  hard  every  day  than  have  poor  Tom  out  in  the 
snow. 

Tom  (in  "  tin  I'  wire).   Bring  out  ynur  bailies. 

[Miily  anil  Jenny  xerenni  mi'!  eling  together. 
Enter  Tom,  hi*  hair  rough  and  his  clothing  disordered. 

Tom.  Hist!     Quit  that  crying.     Where  are  Papa  and  Mamma? 

Milly.  In  the  library. 

Tom  (swaggering  in  ').  Say,  girls,  I  guess  I've  given  you  all  a  bad 
scare.  I  guess  Papa  and  Mamma  are  'most  crazy  about  me. 

Milly.  No,  they  don't  seem  crazy,  Tom.     Where  have  you  been? 

Tom.  Never  you  mind.  .Men  don't  always  tell  where  they've 
been. 

Jenny.  Tom,  how  queer  you  look! 

[Sfif  giee*  him  the  haml-glas*. 

Tom  (looking  in  the  mirror  and  smoothing  his  hair  anil  rlnthis). 
Men  always  look  queer  when  they've  been  out  all  night. 

Milly.  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  you've  come,  home! 

Tom.  Well,  I  don't  know  for  how  long.  It  seemed  kind  of 
rough  on  the  old  folks  to  go  off  so  suddenly,  you  know.  I  came 
back  to  settle  some  little  things.  Say,  Milly,  what  did  Papa 
think? 

Milly.  He  hasn't  said  anything  to  us,  hut  he  must  have  known 
about  the  little  things  you've  come  back  for,  Tom.  I  heard  him 
tell  Mamma  that  you  and  he  must  have  a  full  settlement. 

Tom  (sitting  on  the  edge  of  tin  table  and  rnnninghis  flni/er*  throiij/h 
hi*  hair).  Whew!  He  said  that,  did  he? 

Jenny  (irrnn/iinr/  the  gifts).  Tom  dear,  we're  wrapping  our  gifts 
for  Papa  anil  Mamma.  Then  we're  to  call  them  in  to  light  the 
tree.  'Won't  you  wrap  your  gift  and  mark  ii? 

Tom.  What!  You  weren't  going  to  light  that  tree,  with  me 
away? 

.I//////.   Papa  told  us  to,  Tom. 

Tom  (thfiistinn  his  hands  in  hi*  jioekets).  Whew!  Don't  you 
lalk  about  your  old  gifts  to  me.  Don't  you  see  I  want  to  think? 
(Hi-  bin-ies  'h  is  fare  in  hi*  hands;  then  lunks  up  suddenly  and  slaps 
his  knee.)  I  have  it!  Here,  girls,  you  lake  that  big  piece  of 
brown  paper,  wrap  me-  in  it,  and  tie  me  into  a  Christmas  par- 
cel. 

Millii.   Whai  do  you  mean? 

Torn.  Do  just  as  I  say,  and  do  it  quick. 

[He  Jlini/s  UK   /HI / H  r  mi  tin  jlimr.  ami  In*  ilium  npun  it.      Jenny 
iind  Millv  irrap  him  ran  full;/  in  tin  folds. 

Milly.    Do  you  want  your  head  <HII  ? 

Turn.    You   bet   1  don't!     Wow!     You   needn't,  smother  me. 
Break  a  hole  where  my  mouth  is — quick!     (Milly  breaks  a   //«••./. 
///,',  tl, iii  in  tin  paper  over  Tom's  face,  and  helps  him  to  sit  up.    Tom 
t'i'i  ••  )  'ilx  right  /ia ml.  anil  lifts  tin'  inn."/,-,  tiirnini/  hisfaei  from  side  In 


side  us  he  talks. )  Now  lay  me  under  the  Iree  with  the  other  pres- 
ents, and  write  on  me,  "For  Mother,  if  Papa  will  promise  riot  to 
touch  it." 

Milly.  Oh,  Tom,  I  can't.     Papa  might  be  angry. 
Tom.  Very  well,  then.     I'll  run  away  again. 
Milly.  No,  no,  Tom!     I'll  do  all  you  want. 

[Milly  and  Jenny  drag  Tom  tii  the  nn>t  if  the  tree,  and  lay  the 

remaining  /iae/,'ii;/f."  aranml  him. 
Ji'iini/.   Oh,  Milly  dear,  I'm  so  awfully  scared! 
Milly.   Oh,  so  am  I! 

Tniii  (in  a  deep  nn'ri  j'rmn  aiming  tin  prise  itts).  Have  you  writ- 
ten that  label  on  me? 

[Milly  takes  a  pencil  ami  writes  hastily  on  the  wrapping-paper. 
Tom.  Now  call  Papa  and  Mamma. 

Jenny  (openiny  the  door  at  left).  Papa,  Mamma,  we  are  ready. 
(She  turns  back.)  Oh,  Milly,  I'm  so  scared!  They're  coming, 
oli,  Milly,  they  are  here! 

[She  rushes  to  Milly,  < nnl  tin;/  elimj  together,  each  hiding  her 
face  on  the  other's  shoulder. 

ACT  III. 

Tinii .  —  /•'if/ten  niinntesln/er.     fvnin  *eene.     Curtain  rises  on  Papa 

and  Mamma  lighting  the  last  of  the  Christinas-tree  candles,  Milly 

anil  Jenny   iratehing  them.      Whenever  Papa  and  Mamma  look 

air, in  Tom  lifts  his  paper  mask  and  makes  warning  faces  at  Mil- 
ly and  Jenny. 

Papa.  That's  a  fine  blaze.  Hurrah  for  Christmas!  Come! — 
hip!  hip!  hurrah! 

Milly  and  Jenny  (weakly).    Hurrah!  hurrah! 

Mamma  (laughing).  What  feeble  cheers!  Try  again.  Hurrah! 
hurrah!  hurrah! 

Papa  (stooping  oeer  the  presents).  Dear  me!  What's  this  great 
present,  marked  "For  Mamma,"  that  I  am  not  to  touch?  Why, 
what  can  it  be?  |  ll<  />ri>ds  Tom's  'wrappings  with  hixjini/er. 

Mill//  and  Jenny  (dragging  him  airay).   Oh,  don't,  Papa!  don't! 

Papa.  Well,  I  won't.  Here's  a  present  with  the  wrapping  loose. 
Oh,  it's  the  rod  Master  Tom  ran  away  from. 

[He  lifts  the  rod  and  lays  it  on  the  table.     Papa  and  Mamma 
look  at  it,  then  at  each  other,  and  la-it gh. 

Milly  (eagerly).  Papa,  if  Tom  came  back,  you  wouldn't — you 
wouldn't  break  that  rod  on  his  back,  would  you? 

I'lijia  (ill-airing  Milly  and  Jenny  towards  him).  Now,  my  dear 
little  girls,  is  that  what  you  are  fretting  over? 

Mamma.  You  must  trust  Papa,  dears. 

Pa-pa.  If  I  should  break  that  rod  over  Tom's  back,  it  would  be 
letting  him  off  very  easily,  the  little  runaway  rascal. 

Milly.  Oh,  Papa,  Tom  may  have  been  hungry  and  wandering 
in  the  cold  streets! 

./i  mil/.   And  it's  snowing,  too. 

I'll/in.  Come,  come!  I'm  only  afraid  Master  Tom  has  not  been 
cold  and  hungry  enough.  He  will  learn  a  good  lesson.  Now  for 
the  presents.  By-the-way,  Mamma,  we  left  the  kisses  in  Ihe 
library.  We  must  have  them. 

[As  Papa  goes  out  he  makes  a  pretence  of  again  opening  Tom's 
wrapping.     Mamma  laughingly  drii-es  him  away. 

Mamma.  No,  no.     That's  mine. 

Papa.   We'll  see  about  that.  [E.eeunt  Papa  and-  Mamma. 

To  in  (lifting  Jiit  mask).  Here,  Milly,  you  untie  those  strings  on 
my  feet  as  quick  as  you  can.  I'm  gone. 

Jenny.  Oh  no.  Tom,  no!     Stay  with  us. 

Tom.  With  Papa  hoping  I  am  cold  and  hungry,  and  a  rod 
wailing  for  my  back?  Not  much.  Untie  me,  quick. 

Milly  (il rawing  closer).  Where  are  you  going,  Tom? 

Tom  (brokenly).  Where  I  was  before,  if  they'll  take  me  back 
again.  Hurry,  Milly. 

Milly.  Just  a  minute,  Tom.     Where  have  you  been? 

Tom.  At  Jo  Bootblack's. 

Milly.  Then  you  weren't  cold  or  hungry? 

Tom.  Wasn't  I?  Can  I  eat  cold  pork  and  greasy  cabbage? 
And  at  Christmas,  too!  Why,  I  had  to  sleep  close  to  Jo  to  keep 
from  freezing!  The}'  hadn't  any  combs  and  brushes,  and  they 
washed  their  faces  at  the  pump,  and  the}'  ate  with  their  tinsrers. 
It  was  awful.  (He  subs.)  I  was  so  homesick.  But  they  don't 
keep  rods  ready  to  break  on  boys'  backs,  and  they  didn't  want 
me  to  be — fold — and — hungry — 

Milly.   Oh,  Tom !  neither  does  father. 

Tom.  He  said  he  did,  anyhow.     You  hurry  here,  Milly. 

[He  struggles. 

Milly.  Ob,  I  can't!  I  can't,  Tom!  I'd  ratheryou'd  be  punished 
than  have  you  eat  such  things  and  be  cold. 

Tom.  What! 

Mitty.  I  can't  untie  you,  Tom. 

Tniii  (struggling).   What!  what!     You  shall!  you  shall! 

Milly.  No,  no;  I  can't.  You'll  just  have  to  take  father's  pun- 
ishment. I'll  try  hard  to  beg  you  off,  Tom,  but  I  won't  let  you  go. 

Tom.  Jenny! 

Milly  (standing  before  Jenny).  Yrcu  needn't  call  Jenny.  I  won't 
let  her  untie  you.  Ob,  dear,  dear,  I  wish  I  were  grown  up!  I'm 
so  scared ! 


DECEMBER  25,  1894. 


IIARPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


143 


Jenny  (drawing  dotrn  Tom's  mask).  Hide  your  face  quick,  Tom. 
Here  are  Papa  and  Mamma. 

Enter  Papa  and  Mamma,  irilh  <i  trai/  »f  1/i-ii/ht  pa/u  r  /.-/.VMS  cnrrird 
betireen  them. 

Papa.   Who'll  buy  my  kisses?     Kisses  for   kisses — kisses   for 

klSSCS 

[Hi  gin's  out  the  pitptr*  in  e.rrhani/i  fur  l,ixxi  .1  //•««  Milly  and 
Jenny.  They  map  the  paper^  and  all  dress  in  th,  rap*  and 
iijinins  and  ca/iex  I'niitainid  iintide. 

Mamma.  Circle  round  the  tree.  Now  circle  round  the  tree — 
all  hand  in  hand.  Christmas  comes  but  once  a  year. 

[They  circle  nhont  tin-  ti;>.  dam-inr/.     At  a  loin!  kimck 
Jenny  breaks  airai/,  uml  r>/nx  1,1  tin   door  to  rent ri   u 
which  iit  handed  in. 
./•  tiny.  For  you,  Papa.  [Papa  takes  the  letter,  itnd  opens  it. 

Mamma.   W'hat  is  it? 

Pa/in  (xhukiny  his  head).  Rather  bad  news,  I  fear.  I  must  hur- 
ry off. 

Mamma.  Tom!     Oh,  is  it  Tom? 

Papa.  Yes.  Jo  Bootblack's  mother  writes  that  he  has  slipped 
away  from  her  an  hour  ago. 

Mamma,  (wringing  her  hands).  Oh.  she  promised  me  to  take 
such  good  care  of  him!     My  poor,  poor  little  boy !     Oh,  run!  run! 
Look  for  him.     You  found  him  easily  before. 
Mill}/.  Papa!     Then  you  did  know  Tom  wasn't  cold  or  hun- 

g'T- 

Papa.  My  child,  we  knew  all  about  him,  of  course.  Don't 
stop  me  now,  Milly. 

Milly.  Papa,  only  just  a  moment — just  a  moment.  (She  runs 
to  the  tree  where  Tom  lies.)  Open  your  Christmas  gift.  .Mamma, 
open  your  Christmas  gift.  But  you'll  promise  me  uot  to  touch 
it.  Papa,  won't  yuir.' 

Papa  [  jianxiiii/,  aiiiii'id).    Milly! 

*  Tom  (dragging  tin'  max/,-  mrm/  and  tn/im/  tn  rise).  Here  I  am 
Papa. 

Mamma.   My  boy! 

[SV/t1  ruxlit'x  fonrard. 

Papa  (holding  Mamma  back).  Not  yet.  What  does  this  mean, 
sir? 

Milly  (dinging  to  her  father).  You  won't  punish  him.  Papa? 
You  won't,  will  you? 

Tom  (still  xti-ni/ijlini/  with  the  paper).  Don't  you  listen  to  her, 
Papa.  I  guess  I  ought  to  be  whacked. 

Milly  and  Jenny.   Oh,  no,  no! 

[Mamma  drairx  tin  in  In  her.  Papa  breaks  the  twine  about  Tom, 
and  lift*  liiin  In/  tlie  xhmild,  r»  to  tin  <•>  nti-i  nf  tin  room. 

Papa.  Now  what  have  you  to  say  for  yourself? 

[Tom  Inini/s  hix  head. 

Mamma  (her  arms  about  the  girls).  Oh,  my  dear  litlle.boy !  how- 
could  you  leave  us? 

Tom.  I — I — didn't  think  you  cared  so.  Say.  Papa.  I  just  wish 
you  would  take  that  rod  to  me.  I've  been  awfully  bad. 

[Mamma  ronn-xfiirirurd  ai/ain. 

Papa  (one  hand  on  Tom's  shoulder,  the  ollu  r  in<>li<>i<ii«j  Mamma 
back).  If  you  are  in  earnest,  Tom,  go  bring  me  that  rod  from  the 
table  yourself. 

Milly  and  Jenny.   No,  uo,  Papa! 

Mamma  (smiling).  You  must  trust  Papa,  dears. 

[Tom  brings  his  father  the  rod. 

Papa.  Now,  my  boy,  if  you  are  really  so  repentant  as  to  beg 
for  a  thrashing,  I  think  you  richly  deserve  a  taste  of  Papa's  rod. 
(lie  lirings  the  rod  down  sharply  on  Tom's  shoulders.  Its  paper  cov- 
erinn  splits  n/mrf,  and  n  shower  of  candy  falls  on  the  floor.  He 
laughs  and  holds  up  the  broken  candy-box.)  This  is  Papa's  md. 

The  children  (Inni/hing  and  scrambling  for  the  candy).  Papa's 
rod !  Papa's  rod ! 

TABLEAU : 

TOM. 

PAPA.  MAMMA. 

JKNNV.  MlLUY. 

CURTAIN. 


FREDDY'S   FANCY. 

THE  pumpkin's  the  autumn  football 
In    the   Meld   by  the  old  rail  fence  ; 

Each  cornstalk's  a  lively   player, 
And   I  am  the  audience. 


A   PRESENT   FOR   HIS  GRANDFATHER. 

'•I'M  saving  up  to  buy  you  a  Christmas  present,  grandpa," 
said  Willie. 

"  That's  very  nice  of  you,  my  boy,"  said  the  old  gentleman. 
•'  How  much  have  you  got  ?" 

"Well,"  Willie  replied,  "  if  you'll  give  me  ten  cents,  I'll  have 
eleveu  altogether." 


MR.    KIRK    MUNROE,    ONE    OF    THE    FOUNDERS    OF   THE    L.  A.  W. 

The  Author  of  "  Road  Rangers,"  a  Bicycle  Story  for  Boys,  which  is  the 

Christmas  Extra  accompanying  this  Ntnnher. 


THE  STRANGE 


ADVENTURES 
TODDLES. 


OF  TOMMY 


BY     ALBERT     LEE. 
CHAPlEl!     II. 

WHEN  the  last  of  the  animals  had  disappeared,  Tommy 
Toddles  looked  about  him  to  sec  if  any  other  things  were 
going  to  happen.  He  almost  expected  to  see  the  animals  turn 
around  and  come  back.  But  they  did  not.  The  tramp,  tramp, 
tramp  of  their  feet  grew  less  and  less  distinct,  until  it  gradual- 
ly died  away  entirely,  and  there  was  no  other  sound  but  the 
rustling  of  the  wind  in  the  tree-tops. 

Tommy  reflected  for  a  lew  moments  and  then  started  for  tin- 
gate.  He  knew  he  was  uot  allowed  to  go  beyond  it,  but  he  felt 
as  if  he  ought  certainly  to  go  that  far  to  see,  if  possible,  what 
became  of  his  animals.  Perhaps  he  might  even  be  forgiven  fin- 
going  further,  if  he  explained  later  to  his  mother  exactly  what 
had  happened,  for  surely  tins  must  lie  a  sufficient  excuse,  as  no 
one  ever  before  had  heard  of  wooden  toys  coming  to  life  and 
growing  up  and  deliberately  walking  away.  And  so  Tommy 
went  to  the  gate  and  looked  along  the  road,  which  stretched 
away  for  a  short  distance  down  the  hill  and  then  disappeared 
into  the  woods. 

The  animals  were  not  in  sight.  They  had  had  time  to  reach 
the  woods,  and  only  a  light  cloud  of  dust  show  ed  that  they  had 
passed  that  way.  Tommy  looked  back  at  the  big  house,  but  no 
one  was  visible,  and  most  of  the  window-shutters  were  closed  so 
as  to  keep  out  the  sunlight. 

"I  know  I  ought  not  to,"  thought  Tommy,  "  but  I'll  just  run 
down  the  road  a  little  way  to  SIT  where  they  went.  They  may 
get  lost,  and  that,  of  COUIM-.  \\  onld  never  do." 

And  so  saying,  he  .nave  one  more  glance  toward  the  1 so  be- 
hind him  anil  started  oft.  He  ran  as  far  as  the  bend  in  the  road, 
and  then  looked  ahead  into  the  woods,  but,  alas !  There  was  nor 
the  sign  of  an  animal  anywhere.  The  little  boy  was  \ ,  r\  much 
perplexed.  He  was  entirely  at  a  loss  as  to  what  he  should  do 
under  the  circumstances,  and  tor  lack  of  inspiration  be  sat  down 


144 


HARPER'S    YOUNG    PEOPLE. 


VOLUME   XVI. 


THE    SHEEP    UETUKNEI)    WALKING    ON     HIS    HIND    LEGS. 


on  a  big  stone  by  tlie  way-side  to  flunk  the  matter  over.  He 
was  still  debatiug  whether  he  should  follow  after  the  animals 
and  wander  off  into  the  woods,  or  whether  he  should  give  them 
up  as  lost  and  return  to  the  play-room,  when  he  heard  a  rustling 
sound  in  the  bushes  near  by. 

He  turned  around,  and  there,  standing  not  ten  feet  away  from 
him,  he  saw  the  prettiest,  whitest,  woolliest  sheep  that  his  eyes 
had  ever  rested  upon.  The  sheep  had  great  blue  eyes,  that- 
turned  toward  the  little  hoy  in  an  inquisitive  sort  of  a  way,  and 
presently  it  stepped  entirely  out  of  the  bushes  and  nodded  in  a 
most  friendly  manner. 

"  Hello,  Slieepy  !"  said  Tommy,  getting  up  and  holding  out  his 
band. 

"Hello!"  answered  the  woolly  Sheep,  as  he  trotted  up  and 
placed  one  of  his  fore  feet  in  Tommy's  proffered  hand. 

Now  our  little  boy  had  been  surprised,  to  say  the  least  of  it, 
at  the  eondnct  of  the  Noah's  Ark  animals:  but  this  surprise  was 
nothing  compared  to  the  amazement  which  almost  overpowered 
him  when  the  woolly  Sheep  not  only  shook  him  by  the  hand. 
but  actually  spoke  to  him. 

"  You  look  disturbed,"  said  r.he  Sheep. 

"I  am."  stammered  the  little  boy — and  that  was  all  he  could 
say  for  the  moment. 

"  Yon  should  not  be  disturbed  or  surprised  at.  anything,"  con- 
tinued the  woolly  Sheep  in  the  most  natural  way  in  the  world. 
"  I  got  over  being  surprised  at  things  years  and  years  ago." 

Nevertheless,  Tommy  ir«s  surprised  and  very  much  disturbed 
in  his  little  mind,  and  for  some  minutes  he  said  not  a  word,  but 
merely  stared  at  the  Sheep.  The  latter  returned  the  stare  com- 
placently with  his  large  blue  eyes,  and  wheu  at  last  the  silence 
began  to  be  embarrassing,  he  said, 

"What  are  you  doing  here?" 

"I  am  looking  for  my  animals,"  replied  Tommy  as  naturally 
as  he  could,  for  he  had  not  quite  gotten  used  to  the  situation 
yet.  "  Have  you  seen  them  pass  this  way  ?" 

"Ohyes,"  answered  the  Sheep  ;  "they  all  went  down  the  road 
some  time  ago.  "Weir  those  your  animals  .'" 

"  Yes,  and  I  am  afraid  they  will  get  lost." 

"Why  don't  you  go  after  them  ?"  asked  the  Sheep. 

"I  don't  know  where  to  go."  said  Tommy,  mournfully. 

"Neither  do  I;  but  if  you  like,  I  will  go  with  you." 

The  little  boy  wondered  how  the  Sheep  could  go  to  a  place 
without  knowing  where  that  place  was,  but  as  long  as  he  had 
so  generously  offered  to  do  so  he  did  not  exactly  like  to  suggest 


this  difficulty,  and,  be- 
sides, he  thought  it  would 
be  more  polite  to  accept. 
So  he  said, 

••  Where  shall  we  go?" 
"I    don't    know,"     an- 
swered the  Sheep. 

"Neither  do  I,"  added 
Tommy. 

"  Then  we  must  ask." 
"  15nt     w horn    can     we 
ask  .'"  inquired  the  little 
boy,  looking  about. 

"  We  can  ask  any  one 
we  meet,"  said  the  Sheep. 
"If  we  start  into  the 
w  noils  we  will  surely  meet 
some  one.  \Ve  won't 
meet  any  one  if  we  stay 
here." 

This  struck  Tommy  as 
being  a  sensible  view  to 
take  of  the  situation,  and 
he  told  the  Sheep  he 
would  be  glad  to  lia\e 
him  go  along  with  him  to 
aid  in  the  search. 

"Very  well,"  pui'Micd 
the  latter.  "  Wait  until 
I  get,  my  thing-." 

The  Sheep  trotted  off 
into  the  hushes  again, 
and  soon  returned  wear- 
ing a  jaunty  hat  on  ihe 
top  of  his  head  and  car- 
r\ing  a  cane  which  was 
neatly  decorated  with  a 
gilded  ram's  horn  for  a 

handle.  He  was  now  walking  on  his  hind  legs,  too,  instead 
of  ou  all-fours,  as  he  had  been  when  Tommy  first  saw  him.  In 
this  attitude  he  was  almost  as  tall  as  the  little  boy. 

Before  they  started,  Tommy  again  hesitated  somewhat  as  to 
whether  he  ought  to  go  w  ith  the  Sheep  in  search  of  his  animals, 
or  whether  it  would  not  be  better  to  turn  back  to  the  house,  hut 
everything  had  been  so  queer  that  afternoon  that  he  thought 
his  mother  would  accept  the  queer  excuses  he  would  have  to 
make  when  he  got  home. 

They  followed  the  road  into  the  woods,  and  as  they  went 
Tommy  looked  about  him  to  see  if  he  could  recognize  any  old 
landmarks,  for  he  had  frequently  gone  that  way  with  his  Uncle 
Dick.  But  for  some  reason  the  trees  did  not  appear  to  be  the 
same  trees  that  had  stood  by  the  way-side  only  a  few  days  since, 
and  the  road  seemed  to  take  twists  and  turns  that  Tommy  had 
never  known  it  to  take  before.  Yet,  somehow,  these  things  did 
not  bother  Tommy  much  at  the  time.  Presently  the  Sheep 
said, 

"  You  have  forgotten  your  hat." 

"  Yes  :  I  w  as  in  such  a  hurry,  you  know,"  answered  the  little 
hoy.  "  But  I  don't  think  I  will  catch  cold,  do  you  ?" 

"Oh  no,"  continued  the  Sheep,  patronizingly  ;  "  if  you  do, 
just  give  it  to  me."  But  Tommy  didn't  comprehend  exactly 
what  he  meant. 

"I  wonder  if  my  animals  can  talk,  too?"  thought  Tommy,  as 
they  went  along.  "I  hope  we  will  catch  up  with  them  soon, so 
that  I  can  find  out.  And  how  I  do  wish  I  could  keep  this  wool- 
ly Sheep  instead  of  having  the  one  Uncle  Dick  is  going  to  bring 
me!  I  don't  think  mamma  would  object  to  a  live  Sheep  like 
this  one — a  white  woolly  Sheep  that  wears  a  little  hat  and  can 
talk." 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


WANTED  TO   LEAUN    WAR-DANCING. 
I'M  not  very   fond  of  our  dancing-school, 

With  its  polkas  and  waltzes  anil  lancers; 
There's  a  great  deal  more  fuu   in  learning  to  dance 

Like  those  great  big  red  Indian   dancers. 


TKACIIFU.  "Now,  boys,  if  one  of  you  were   to  find  something 
pelrilied,  what  age  would  you  attribute  to  it  ?" 
S.MAIIT  liny.   ••  Stone  age." 


Copyright,  1-.  4,  by  1 1  ».i  KI:  &  BRUTHKKS.     All  Rights  Rest 


VACATION    EXTRA.     NO.  791*. 


NEW    YORK,  TUESDAY,  DECEMBER    25,   1804. 


PRICE    TEN    CENTS. 


ROAD     RANGERS. 


BY    KIRK    M  U  N  R  O  E, 


AUTHOR  OF  THE  "MATE"  BOOKS,  "THE  FUR-SEAI.'S  TOOTH,"  ETC. 
CHAPTER    I. 


WILL    ROGERS   CALLS   A  MEETING. 

WOULD  it  be  Hue?     Well,  I  should  say  it  would, 
if   we   can   only  carry  it  out!"   exclaimed  Will 
Rogers,  Captain  of   the  Ready  Rangers.      ''It  seems  to 
me    that   we  have   made   a   pretty    good   record   so   far, 
and  for  a    wind-up    this    scheme  of    yours    would    be 


perfectly  immense.  I  tell  you  what,  Tom  Burgess,  I'm 
awfull3"  sorry  you  are  going  away,  for  fellows  with  ideas 
like  that  in  their  heads  aren't  quite  as  plentiful  as  huc- 
kleberries in  Berks." 

"Which  is  lucky  for  Berks,"  laughed  Tom,  "judging 
from  the  number  of  huckleberries  'Cracker'  Bob  Jones 
has  shipped  from  here  the  past  few  weeks.  But  if  you 
really  think  you  can  go,  I'll  send  word  to  father  right 


146 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


off  that  I  am  coming  home  that  way.  I'm  pretty  sure 
Hal  can  go,  and  perhaps  there'll  be  some  others.  We 
must  find  out  as  quickly  as  we  can,  though,  for  we  ought 
to  start  next  Monday." 

"  All  right,"  assented  Captain  Will.  "I'll  call  a  spe- 
cial meeting  for  this  very  evening,  and  we'll  settle  mat- 
ters then." 

So  Tom  went  down  to  the  telegraph  office,  from  which 
he  sent  a  long  despatch  to  his  father  in  New  York,  while 
the  lad  with  whom  he  had  been  talking  started  off  to 
hunt  up  the  several  members  of  his  band  and  notify  them 
of  the  special  meeting. 

Although  the  young  Captain  was  obliged  to  talk  over  his 
new  plan  and  arrange  some  of  its  details  with  Tom  Bur- 
gess, he  kept  it  such  a  profound  secret  from  the  other 
members  as  to  arouse  their  keenest  curiosity,  and  insure 
a  full  attendance  at  the  meeting.  This  was  held  in  the 
assembly-room  of  the  new  Ranger  Engine-house,  and  of 
course  Pop  Miller  was  present,  for  the  boys  held  their 
honorary  member  in  such  high  esteem  that  no  meeting 
would  have  been  considered  regular  without  him.  At 
tlie  same  time  the  old  gentleman's  intimacy  with  the 
Riuigers  during  the  past  six  months  had  not  only  caused 
him  to  regard  all  boys  with  favor,  but  to  entertain  for 
these  particular  lads  a  sincere  affection,  combined  with  a 
belief  that  whatever  they  undertook  they  would  carry 
out. 

On  this  occasion  the  impatient  members  thought  Will 
Rogers  never  would  be  through  with  calling  for  reading 
of  minutes  and  reports,  and  when  at  length  he  rose  to 
address  them,  he  was  greeted  by  a  general  sigh  of  satis- 
faction. 

"Mr.  Pop  Miller  and  fellow  Rangers,"  began  Will. 
"We  have  naturally  been  a  good  many  things,  because 
no  fellow  who  has  any  spunk  likes  to  be  the  same  thing 
all  the  time.  We  have  changed  from  one  thing  to  an- 
other whenever  we  felt  like  it;  but  in  becoming  Fire 
Rangers,  and  accepting  from  Mr.  Ray  the  beautiful 
engine  down -stairs,  together  with  the  charge  of  this 
building,  we  have  assumed  a  responsibility  from  which 
we  can't  back  out  any  more  than  Sindbad  could  from 
the  Old  Man  of  the  Sea.  We  don't  want  to,  either  [cries 
of  "  No!  no!"] ;  but  we  still  want  to  be  something  new  once 
in  a  while  [cries  of  "Yes!  yes!  of  course  we  dp!''].  So  I 
have  thought  of  a  plan,  or  rather  Tom  Burgess  and  I 
thought  it  out  together,  that  will  be  brand  new,  and  at 
the  same  time  help  us  to  be  better  Fire  Rangers  than 
ever.  It  is  a  bicycle  club,  and  I  hope  every  Ranger  will 
join  it." 

As  the  speaker  paused  to  note  the  effect  of  this  an- 
nouncement the  members  looked  at  each  other  in  amaze- 
ment not  unmixed  with  disappointment.  How  could 
they  form  a  bicycle  club  without  bicycles?  asked  one  who 
knew  there  were  not  half  a  dozen  wheels  in  the  village. 
Even  these  were  rarely  used,  for  the  Berks  roads  were 
notoriously  among  the  worst  in  the  State.  What  had 
bicycles  to  do  with  fire-engines,  anyway?  asked  others. 
Even  the  honorary  member  looked  puzzled. 

Will  Rogers  smiled  at  the  noticeable  effect  of  his  pre- 
liminary remark's;  and,  when  quiet  was  restored,  he  con- 
tinued: "  Bicycles  are  among  the  most  important  things, 
and  any  fellow  who  can't  ride  one  will  soon  find  himself 
getting  left.  You  can  travel  farther  and  faster  on  abicycle 
than  you  can  on  horseback,  and  they  don't  eat  anything. 
nor  need  to  rest.  They  have  bicycle  scouts  in  most  all 
armies  now,  and  I  don't  see  why  they  shouldn't  be  just 
as  useful  in  fire  companies.  Anyhow,  I  mean  to  try 
them  in  ours,  and  have  a  sort  of  a  mounted  hook-and- 
ladder  company,  which  will  al  ways  be  able  to  get  to  a  fire 
a  long  time  ahead  of  the  engine." 

"  That's  a  first-class  idea,"  remarked  the  honorary 
member,  nodding  his  head  approvingly. 

"The  most  important  thing  of  all,  though,  in  connec- 


tion with  bicycles  as  well  as  fire-engines,"  continued 
Will,  "is  good  roads.  These  we  certainly  don't  have  in 
Berks.  If  we  had  we  might  have  got  the  '  Ranger  '  out 
to  Si  Carew's  father's  farm  in  time  to  save  his  barn  last 
week,  and  the  cost  of  that  barn  alone  would  put  the  road 
between  here  and  there  in  first-class  order." 

"  But  we  haven't  got  any  bicycles,  that  is,  not  many  of 
us  have,  and  they  are  mighty  expensive  things,"  inter- 
posed Si  Carcw.  whose  hopes  of  receiving  a  wheel  as  a 
birthday  present  had  been  dashed  by  the  loss  of  the  barn 
in  question. 

"No,  we  haven't,  that's  a  fact,  and  they  are  expensive; 
but  we  must  have  them,  even  if  they  do  come  high,"  re- 
plied Captain  Will,  "for  every  one  who  owns  a  bicycle 
is  bound  to  be  a  worker  for  good  roads,  and  these  mean 
more  fun  for  us,  as  well  as  a  better  chance  to  show  what 
our  fire-engine  is  worth.  I  believe  every  fellow  here  can 
earn  a  bicycle  between  now  and  spring,  if  he  sets  out  to 
in  real  earnest,  though,  of  course,  it  will  be  hard  work. 
I  know  I  am  going  to  try  it,  for  one,  for  I  want  a  new 
wheel  more  than  I  want  anything  else,  and  my  father 
doesn't  feel  that  he  can  afford  to  give  me  one.  Just  as 
soon  as  I  get  it  I  am  going  to  present  my  old  one  to  the 
Road  Rangers  for  beginners  to  practise  on.  Oh,  I  forgot! 
'  Road  Rangers '  is  the  new  name,  because  it  will  show 
that  we  are  a  bicycle  club,  and  devoted  to  securing  good 
roads.  The  members  will  have  a  great  many  privileges 
that  ordinary  Rangers  won't  be  allowed  to  enjoy;  but 
they  must  pledge  themselves  to  do  their  level  best  to  get 
bicycles  before  spring,  and  to  never  let  up  011  the  road 
question  until  Berks  has  as  good  roads  as  any  in  the 
State.  We'll  join  the  L.A.W.,  and  the  Good  Roads 
League,  and  they'll  send  us  all  sorts  of  papers  and  books 
that  tell  about  roads  for  us  to  study.  Then,  perhaps,  we 
can  get  some  first-class  engineer  to  come  and  give  us  a 
road-talk,  to  which  we'll  charge  all  outsiders  an  admission 
fee  that  will  help  buy  our  bicycles.  But  now  that  I 
have  explained  the  object  of  this  meeting,  let's  get  down 
to  real  business.  All  in  favor  of  being  Road  Rangers, 
willing  to  work  hard  all  winter  for  bicycles,  and  for  good 
roads  so  long  as  there  is  a  poor  one  in  the  town  of  Berks, 
will  say,  'Aye.'" 

Tom  Burgess  said  "  Aye  " ;  but,  to  the  young  Captain's 
amazement  and  mortification,  not  another  member  gave 
this  sign  of  approval  to  his  new  scheme.  He  forgot  that 
until  Tom  Burgess  came  he  was  the  only  one  of  the 
Rangers  who,  in  spite  of  bad  roads,  had  taken  long  glo- 
rious bicycle  rides  to  every  corner  of  the  county  in  which 
Berks  was  situated.  He  knew  the  delights  of  a  wheel, 
and  how  greatly  they  would  be  increased  by  good  roads. 
He  knew,  as  did  no  one  else  in  the  town,  how  very  bad 
its  highways  were,  and  he  was  already  a  student  of  road 
engineering1.  It  was  all  so  plain  to  him,  and  the  subject 
seemed  so  important,  that  he  could  not  understand  why 
every  one  was  not  interested  in  it.  He  had  expected  the 
Rangers  to  follow  his  lead  in  this  matter  as  readily  as  they 
had  in  all  others,  and  could  hardly  conceal  his  chagrin 
when  they  failed  to  do  so. 

CHAPTER    II. 
"CRACKER"  BOB'S  INVESTMENT. 

As  Will  Rogers's  disappointment  at  the  reception  of 
his  new  plan  appeared  on  his  face,  several  of  the  mem- 
bers, all  of  whom  were  too  fond  of  their  Captain  to 
willingly  hurt  bis  feelings,  rose  to  explain  their  position. 

Naval  Cadet  Billy  Barlow  said  that  he  would  gladlv 
become  a  Road  Ranger  and  work  for  good  roads  if  be  did 
not  have  to  return  almost  immediately  to  Annapolis, 
where  he  would  be  forced  to  remain  another  two  vcars 
without  a  chance  to  revisit  Berks. 

Little  Cul  Moody  said  he  had  a  velocipede,  and  if  that 
would  do  he  would  be  willing  to  join,  but  he  didn't  be- 


DECEMBER  25,  1894. 


HARPEK'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


147 


lieve  lie  could  ever  earn  a  regular  bicycle,  because  his 
one  hen  had  stopped  laying  for  the  season,  and  he  didn't 
know  any  way  to  make  money  except  by  selling  eggs. 

The  honorary  member  knew  the  importance  of  good 
roads,  and  believed  Berks  ought  to  have  them.  He  was 
willing  to  help  the  cause  by  voting  for  it  in  town-meet- 
ing. As  for  a  wheel,  he  had  thought  of  getting  a  tricycle, 
until  lie  began  to  inquire  into  prices,  when  he  found  he 
might  as  well  think  of  owning  a  carriage  and  a  pair  of 
trotters. 

Sam  Ray  said  his  father  said  that  a  bicycle  wasn't 
anything  but  a  plaything,  and  was  too  expensive  a  toy 
for  him  to  own. 

"  Cracker  "  Bob  Jones  was  in  favor  of  bicycles,  and  had, 
in  fact,  been  hard  at  work  all  summer  collecting  berries, 
and  shipping  them  to  a  relative  who  was  a  city  commis- 
sion merchant,  for  the  express  purpose  of  buying  one. 
He  had  not  yet  acquired  enough  money,  but  whenever  he 
did  and  was  able  to  become  the  possessor  of  a  wheel  he 
thought,  perhaps,  he  might  like  to  join  the  Road  Ran- 
gers. 

Mif  Bowers  said  there  seemed  to  be  so  much  more  hard 
work  than  fun  in  the  new  scheme  that  for  his  part  he 
couldn't  see  how  it  would  pay. 

"  That's  it,"  assented  Abe  Cruger.  "What  are  we  go- 
ing to  gain  more'n  we've  got  now  by  joinin',  and  promis- 
ing to  do  a  lot  of  the  hardest  kind  of  work?'' 

Although  Lieutenant  Hal  Bacon  did  not  say  anything, 
lie  looked  inquiringly  at  Will  Rogers  when  this  question 
was  asked,  as  much  as  to  say,  "That's  what  I  want  to 
know?" 

Poor  Will,  quite  bewildered  by  the  amount  of  cold 
water  thus  thrown  upon  what  had  become  his  pet  scheme, 
could  only  reply,  "Why,  you  would  gain  bicycles  and 
good  roads  to  ride  them  on." 

"  And  a  trip  to  New  York,"  whispered  Tom  Burgess. 

"  That's  so!"  exclaimed  Will,  brightening.  "  I  believe 
I  haven't  mentioned  the  privileges,  and  I  meant  to  speak 
of  them  first  too.  You  see,  there  is  to  be  an  L.A.W. 
good-roads'  meet  in  New  York,  and  the  Berks  Road  Ran- 
gers are  invited  to  attend  it ;  that  is,  Tom  Burgess's  father 
has  written  to  him  to  invite  all  the  Rangers  who  are  in- 
terested in  bicycles  and  good  roads  and  such  things  to 
come  on  with  him,  and  stay  at  his  house  during  the  meet, 
and  he  will  provide  railroad  tickets  both  ways  so  that  it 
won't  cost  a  cent.  It's  going  to  be  fine,  I  can  tell  you ! 
Then,  as  soon  as  the  Road  Rangers  are  organized,  I  am  go- 
ing to  appoint  a  committee  of  all  the  members  who  own 
wheels  and  will  be  allowed,  to  ride  from  here  to  New 
York,  study  the  different  kinds  of  roads,  and  get  there 
in  time  to  join  the  other  fellows  at  the  meet.  Tom  Bur- 
gess will  be  on  it,  because  he  is  our  best  rider,  and  has  got 
to  go,  anyway.  I  expect  Lieutenant  Bacon  will  be  on  it, 
and  I  know  I  shall.  Anyhow,  we  are  going  to  start  from 
this  headquarters  at  nine  o'clock,  sharp,  next  Monday 
morning,  and  ride  to  Chester  that  day.  From  there  we 
will  take  the  best  road  we  can  find  to  the  Hudson,  and 
then  follow  it  dowu  to  New  York.  All  the  expenses  of 
the  committee  have  been  provided  for,  so  that  it  won't 
cost  them  any  more  than  it  will  the  other  fellows." 

"  Why,  it's  more  than  two  hundred  miles!"  exclaimed 
a  member. 

"I  know  it,"  replied  Will.  "But  we  don't  expect  to 
do  it  all  in  one  day.  We  are  going  to  stop  at  taverns 
nights,  and  visit  places  of  interest,  and  perhaps  we'll  have 
to  camp  out.  Anyway,  it's  going  to  be  a  great  trip,  and 
every  Road  Ranger  who  owns  a  wheel  is  going  to  be  in- 
vited to  form  one  of  that  committee.  Then  as  soon  as  I 
find  out  just  how  to  do  it,  I  am  going  to  form  the  Road 
Rangers  into  fire  scouts,  or  something  of  that  kind,  with 
uniforms,  and  a  real  bugle  and  colors,  and  we'll  drill,  and 
perhaps  we'll  have  a  parade  next  Fourth  of  July." 

"Hurray!'' shouted  little  Gal  Moody,  carried  away  by 


enthusiasm,  and  immediately  afterwards  covered  with 
confusion  and  blushes. 

"That  is,"  continued  Will,  when  the  laughter  caused 
by  this  interruption  had  subsided,  "I  did  expect  we'd  do 
all  these  things;  but,  of  course,  if  nobody  is  interested  in 
bicycles  or  roads,  and  isn't  willing  to  work  for  them, 
there  won't  be  any  Road  Rangers,  and  we  won't  go  to 
New  York,  but  will  just  stay  around  here  and  do  the 
same  things  we've  always  done,  until  we  get  too  old  to 
care  for  anything.  So,  as  there  is  no  further  business 
before  the  meeting,  I  guess  we'd  better  adjourn." 

"But  I  do  want  to  join,"  cried  one.  "  And  I,  and  I, 
and  I!"  cried  others,  as  half  a  dozen  anxious-looking 
members  sprang  to  their  feet. 

"Oh!  do  you?"  asked  Will,  with  well-feigned  sur- 
prise. "All  right,  we'll  take  another  vote  on  the  ques- 
tion. All  those  who  wish  to  become  Road  Rangers,  and 
are  willing  to  work  for  bicycles  and  good  roads,  will 
say,  'Aye.' " 

"  Aye!"  shouted  every  member  at  the  top  of  his  voice. 
Even  Pop  Miller,  carried  away  by  the  enthusiasm  of  his 
young  comrades,  shouted  with  the  rest,  and  thus  pledged 
himself  to  become  a  Road  Ranger. 

"  Contrary -minded?" 

There  was  a  dead  silence,  and,  with  a  beaming  face, 
Will  Rogers  announced  that  as  the  ayes  appeared  to  be 
in  the  majority,  the  Road  Rangers  were  an  established 
fact.  The  meeting  adjourned  amid  a  tumult  of  happy 
voices,  and  excited  inquiries  concerning  the  proposed 
trip  to  New  York,  which  from  that  time  on  formed  al- 
most the  sole  topic  of  conversation  among  the  Berks  boys, 
and  their  elders  as  well. 

When  the  eventful  Monday  morning  on  which  the 
road  committee  was  to  set  forth  arrived,  not  only  every 
Ranger,  but  every  boy  in  Berks,  together  with  most  of 
the  girls,  and  half  the  grown  folks,  were  gathered  on  the 
village  green  to  witness  the  start. 

Although  safeties  were  no  longer  novelties  in  Berks, 
every  one  having  seen  the  cushion-tired  wheels  belong- 
ing to  Will  Rogers  and  Tom  Burgess,  which  every 
Ranger  had  learned  to  ride  as  well,  yet  when  Billy  Bar- 
low rode  up  and  dismounted  from  one,  he  was  greeted  by 
shouts  of  laughter.  This  merriment  was  caused  by  the 
pneumatic  tires  of  his  wheel,  which  was  the  first  of  its 
kind  ever  seen  in  the  village.  Although  every  one  made 
fun  of  these  pneumatics,  calling  them  air-cushions  and 
hose  pipes  and  poultices  and  many  other  derisive  names, 
the  wheel  was  really  a  beauty,  and  the  very  latest  thing 
out.  It  had  been  sent  on  by  express  by  Mr.  Burgess,  as 
a  present  to  Hal  Bacon  from  his  cousin  Tom.  and  had 
only  been  taken  from  its  crate  that  morning.  Although 
Hal  was  wild  with  delight  at  being  thus  made  the  owner 
of  the  very  finest  bicycle  ever  seen  in  Berks,  and  imme- 
diately tested  its  admirable  qualities  by  a  trial  spin,  he 
also  decided  that  Billy  Barlow  must  ride  it  to  New  York. 
He  had  been  longing  for  some  opportunity  of  showing 
his  gratitude  to  the  brave  naval  cadet  for  having  saved 
his  life.  It  was  time  for  Billy  to  return  to  Annapolis, 
anyway,  and  he  might  just  as  well  go  as  far  as  New 
York  on  a  wheel.  To  crown  all,  Hal  felt  that,  as  lieu- 
tenant of  the  Rangers,  it  was  his  duty  to  take  command 
of  the  second  division,  who  were  to  go  to  New  York  by 
rail  two  days  after  the  first  had  started. 

Will  Rogers  and  Tom  Burgess  wore  knee-breeches,  but 
Billy  Barlow  was  forced  to  be  content  with  ordinary  trou- 
sers bound  at  the  ankles  by  steel  clasps.  The  former  Uvo 
also  wore  regular  bicycle  caps,  in  front  of  which  appear- 
ed the  device  of  a  winged  wheel  encircling  the  letters 
"R.R.,"  all  embroidered  in  gold  thread.  Billy  Bin-low 
wore  an  old  naval  cap  on  which  this  same  device  had 
been  substituted  for  the  fouled  anchor.  These  emblems 
had  been  sent  to  Tom  Burgess  from  New  York,  and  each 
Road  Ranger  had  been  provided  with  one  of  them. 


148 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


Closely  following  the  earliest  arrivals  came  "Cracker" 
Bob  Jones,  towering  above  the  crowd  on  a  56-inch  ordi- 
nary that  he  had  bought  with  his  huckleberry  money 
that  very  morning  from  Keddy  Cuddeback,  a  young  fel- 
low who  lived  in  the  settlement  of  Berks  Mills,  just 
outside  of  Berks  proper,  and  who  had  once  applied  for 
admission  to  the  Fire  Rangers,  only  to  be  promptly  black- 
balled. The  Berks  boys  did  not  know  much  about  him, 
and  did  not  care  to,  for  between  them  and  the  boys  of 
Berks  Mills  existed  a  hereditary  feud  of  such  intensity 
that  if  one  belonging  to  either  territory  were  caught  in 
the  other  he  was  pretty  certain  to  come  to  grief.  There 
were  rumors  that  Reddy's  father,  a  one-armed  man,  who 
had  only  recently  found  employment  in  Berks  Mills,  had 
invented  so  valuable  a  bit  of  mill  machinery  that  its  roy- 
alties would  soon  make  him  wealthy.  It  was  also  ru- 
mored that  Reddy  himself  was  attracting  attention  as  a 
bicycle  rider.  In  the  minds  of  the  Berks  boys,  however, 
these  things  weighed  as  nothing1  compared  with  the  fact 
that  the  lad  dwelt  in  the  hostile  camp,  and  consequently 
they  refused  to  admit  him  to  theirs.  Reddy  received  their 
decision  with  bitterness  of  soul,  and  vowed  to  lose  no 
opportunity  for  getting  even  witli  them  on  account  of  it. 

Good-natured  "Oracker"  Bob,  whose  business  instincts 
led  him  to  overlook  social  differences  whenever  there 
was  a  bargain  in  view,  had  eagerly  embraced  the  oppor- 
tunity of  purchasing  Reddy's  bicycle  for  less  than  one- 
third  of  its  original  cost,  and  now  regarded  his  lofty 
mount  with  supreme  satisfaction,  looking  down  with 
more  or  less  contempt  on  the  less-aspiring  wheels  of  his 
companions.  "Anybody  can  ride  a  safety,"  he  had  de- 
clared, '•  but  it  takes  a  rider  to  manage  an  ordinary." 

Behind  him  came  Mif  Bowers  on  an  old  rattletrap  of 
a  tricycle  that  his  father  had  taken  in  payment  of  a  debt, 
Si  Carew  and  Abe  Cruger  on  a  couple  of  antiquated  bone- 
shakers that  had  belonged  to  their  big  brothers  years  be- 
fore, and  Cal  Moody  puffing  like  a  small  steam-engine 
as  he  labored  to  keep  up  with  the  procession  on  a  little 
three  -  wheeled  velocipede  that  he  had  long  since  out- 
gro  w  n . 

The  spectators  roared  with  laughter  at  this  unique  col- 
lection of  wheels,  but  Captain  Will  Rogers  looked  very 
grave,  until  informed  that  the  four  last-named  riders 
only  intended  to  escort  the  others  to  the  edge  of  the 
village.  Greatly  relieved  by  this,  he  gave  the  order  to 
start,  ami  amid  a  jangle  of  bells,  the  blowing  of  whistles, 
and  loud  cheers  from  the  assembled  throng,  the  first  pa- 
rade of  the  Berks  Road  Rangers  got  under  way. 

CHAPTER     III. 
CAL   MOODY    COMES   TO    GRIEF. 

As  the  motley  procession  of  three  safeties,  one  tall 
ordinary,  on  which  sat  "Cracker"  Bob  Jones  with  an  old 
knapsack  strapped  to  his  shoulders,  two  bone-shakers, 
one  tricycle,  and  one  velocipede  moved  down  the  village 
street,  it  attracted  a  universal,  not  to  say  embarrassing, 
amount  of  attention.  The  Rangers  who  were  on  foot  ran 
for  some  distance  beside  the  wheels,  laughing  at  and 
cheering  their  comrades,  people  rushed  to  their  doors  and 
windows,  dogs  barked,  and  one  foolish  puppy  sprang  so 
directly  in  front  of  the  tall  ordinary  that  he  was  run  over, 
though  without  serious  injury,  while  "  Cracker "  Bob  took 
the  first  header  of  the  trip,  to  the  great  delight  of  the  as- 
sembled spectators. 

In  order  to  escape  as  quickly  as  possible  from  this  con- 
fusion, Captain  Will  was  setting  a  lively  pace,  and  at  the 
moment  of  "Cracker"  Bob's  mishap  the  three  safeties 
were  so  far  in  the  lead  that  their  riders  did  not  witness 
the  accident  to  the  ordinary.  The  others  did,  though,  for 
they  were  behind  it,  and  so  close  that  the  bone-shakers 
crashed  into  it,  while  the  tricycle,  turning  sharply  in  an 
effort  to  avoid  a  similar  fate,  collided  with  Cal  Moody 's 


velocipede.  As  a  result,  "Cracker"  Bob's  downfall  was 
immediately  succeeded  by  that  of  four  other  riders,  and 
for  a  few  minutes  there  was  such  an  inextricable  mingling 
of  boys,  wheels,  arms,  legs,  and  handle-bars,  that  it  was 
impossible  to  tell  which  belonged  to  which,  what  was 
what,  or  who  was  who. 

The  big  wheel  was  the  first  to  be  withdrawn  from  the 
wreck,  and  finding  it  uninjured,  its  rider  remounted  and 
hastened  away  to  try  and  overtake  the  safeties.  Cal 
Moody  was  the  last  of  the  unfortunates  to  be  rescued,  for 
the  clumsy  tricycle  had  not  only  overturned,  but  had 
landed  squarely  on  top  of  him.  He  was  breathless,  hat- 
less,  and  sore,  while  his  little  old  velocipede  was  broken 
beyond  the  hope  of  repair.  Poor  Cal  felt  so  badly  over 
this  destruction  of  what  had  long  been  his  greatest  trea- 
sure that  when  some  one  picked  up  his  hat  and  placed  it 
on  his  head  he  took  no  notice  of  the  act.  It  was  after  he 
reached  home  with  the  cold  remains  of  his  defunct  ma- 
chine that  he  discovered  his  gold  -  embroidered  Road 
Ranger  emblem  to  be  missing.  His  mother  had  not  found 
time  to  sew  it  on  that  morning,  and  so  he  had  hastily 
pinned  it  to  the  front  of  his  hat  as  he  was  starting  for  the 
first  meet  of  the  new  wheel  club.  Now,  although  he 
hastened  back  to  the  scene  of  the  accident,  and  searched 
diligently  in  that  vicinity,  no  trace  was  to  be  found  of 
the  badge  of  membership  that  he  had  considered  so  beau- 
tiful, and  of  which  he  had  been  so  proud.  As  it  was  the 
first  badge  of  any  kind  the  young  Ranger  had  ever  owned 
or  worn,  he  attached  an  undue  importance  to  it,  and  ac- 
tually believed  that  if  its  loss  were  known  his  membei'- 
ship  would  be  forfeited,  together  with  the  proposed  trip  to 
New  York.  For  this  reason  he  did  not  mention  it  even 
to  his  mother,  much  as  he  longed  for  her  sympathy. 

In  the  mean  time  the  three  safeties  had  been  halted 
about  a  mile  from  Berks  at  a  point  where  two  roads  con- 
verged. Here  in  the  shade  of  a  clump  of  trees  their  riders 
awaited  the  coming  of  the  others  who  had  declared  an 
intention  to  escort  them  to  this  point. 

"I  don't  believe  Cal  Moody  can  possibly  make  it  on 
that  velocipede,"  said  Billy  Barlow. 

"  No,"  assented  Tom  Burgess,  "nor  the  bone-shakers 
either,  though  the  ordinary  and  tricycle  may." 

Cracker'  Bob  is  certain  to  get  here  if  any  one  else 
does,  and  almost  sure  to,  whether  the  others  do  or  not; 
for  though  he  doesn't  look  it, he's  awful  plucky, '  Cracker ' 
is,"  said  Captain  Will.  "Where  do  you  suppose  he  got 
that  wheel,  though?" 

"Can't  imagine,"  replied  Tom  Burgess.  "I  only 
hope  he  hasn't  bought  it,  for  ordinaries  have  gone  out  so 
entirely,  that  no  one  who  can  get  anything  else  rides 
them  nowadays." 

"There  he  comes  now!"  cried  Will  Rogers,  springing 
to  his  feet  and  running  to  the  edge  of  the  road.  "Hi, 
'Cracker'!  Down  brakes!  Here  we  are!" 

They  were  halted  at  the  foot  of  a  slight  declivity,  down 
which  the  rider  of  the  ordinary  was  coming  at  full  speed, 
bending  low  over  his  handle-bar,  and  pedalling  with  all 
his  might  in  his  anxiety  to  overtake  the  safeties.  He 
was  so  surprised  and  disconcerted  by  Will's  sudden 
shout,  that  he  instinctively  obeyed  the  joking  order,  and 
gripped  his  brake-handle.  The  next  instant  his  machine 
stood  on  its  head  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  while  he, 
after  a  short  spread-eagle  flight,  was  burrowing  in  a 
providential  sand-bank  at  one  side,  and  had  accomplished 
header  number  two. 

There  was  a  momentary  anxious  silence  as  the  others 
sprang  toward  their  unfortunate  comrade;  but,  as  he 
struggled  to  his  feet,  and  began  to  dig  sand  from  his 
eyes,  nose,  and  ears,  their  anxiety  found  relief  in  shouts 
of  merriment  at  his  expense. 

"  I  think  it's  mighty  mean,"  he  sputtered  indignantly, 
"to  startle  a  fellow  into  taking  a  header,  and  then  laugh 
at  him  for  it.  I  didn't  think  you'd  do  such  a  thin?,- Will 


DECEMBER  25,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


149 


Rogers,  though  I  might 
have  known  it  after  the 
war  you  ran  off  and 
left  the  rest  of  us  back 
there  in  that  crowd. 
Anyhow,  I'm  not  going 
to  ride  any  further  on 
this  trip,  so  you  fellows 
can  go  on." 

"  Oh,  pshaw,  old  man  ! 
Don't  get  huffy  at  no- 
thing," exclaimed  Will. 
"  We  didn't  mean  to  run 
away  from  you;  and  if 
you  hadn't  caught  up, 
we  would  have  gone 
back  to  see  what  was 
the  matter,  honest  we 
would.  As  for  startling 
you  into  taking  a  head- 
er, you  know  I  wouldn't 
do  such  a  thing  oji  pur- 
pose. I  didn't  suppose 
your  wheel  was  such  a 
scary  old  hoss  as  to  shy 
and  stand  on  his  head 
at  sight  of  a  Ready 
Ranger.  I  thought  he 
was  too  well  broke  for 
that,  or  I  would  have 
kept  out  of  sight." 

"I  expect  he's  well  broke  now,  if  he  wasn't  before," 
replied  '"Cracker"  Bob,  with  a  grin  at  his  own  wit. 

Anxious  to  conciliate  him,  the  other  boys  encouraged 
this  indication  of  returning  good  humor  by  laughing 
heartily  at  tlie  joke  as  they  picked  up  the  prostrate  wheel. 

"  It's  all  right,"  declared  Tom  Burgess,after  a  thorough 
examination,  "except  this  bent  handle-bar,  and  we  can 
straighten  that  out  easy  enough.  It  looks  like  a  first- 
class  wheel  too,"  he  added,  conscious  that  the  most 
acceptable  flattery  is  praise  of  a  person's  belongings. 
"  Where  did  you  get  it?" 

''Bought  it  of  Reddy  Cuddeback,"  replied  the  owner, 
with  a  flush  of  gratified  pride  tinging  his  freckled  face, 
"and  got  it  dirt  cheap  too.  He  says  it's  such  a  good 
wheel  that  if  he  wasn't  forced  by  circumstances  he 
wouldn't  sell  it  for  what  he  gave  two  years  ago,  and 
that  was  one  hundred  and  thirty-five  dollars." 

Here  "Cracker"  Bob  paused  to  allow  his  hearers  to 
realize  the  magnitude  of  this  sum.  Then  he  continued: 
"  He  says.  Cuddy  does,  that  he'd  rather  ride  an  ordinary 
any  day  than  a  safety,  because  it  takes  real  skill,  while 
any  hoy,  or  girl  either  for  that  matter,  can  ride  a  safety. 
Cuddy  says  that  safeties  are  good  enough  for  old  folks 
and  children,  but  that  any  young  fellow  who's  got  real 
sand  will  always  ride  a  high  wheel  if  he  can  get  one." 

"There's  something  in  that,"  remarked  Billy  Barlow, 
reflectively,  with  a  sly  wink  at  Will  Rogers.  "And  the 
riding  of  a  high  wheel  is  calculated  to  give  a  fellow  sand, 
too." 

"Of  course  it  is,"  agreed  "  Cracker"  Bob,  unconscious 
of  the  irony  of  this  sentiment,  though  he  was  brushing 
s.uiil  from  his  hair  at  that  very  moment.  "It  takes 
pluck  merely  to  mount  one,  while  to  ride  it  gives  a  fellow 
any  amount  of  confidence  in  himself.  Cuddy  says  that 
you  can  make  better  time  on  'em,  too,  and  climb  hills 
easier,  and  that  they  are  coming  into  fashion  again  in 
the  cities  so  fast,  that  he  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  I  were 
offered  a  cool  hundred  dollars  for  this  one  in  New  York." 

"I  should,"  whispered  Tom  Burgess  to  Billy  Barlow, 
"for  when  I  left  home,  second-hand  ordinaries  were  sell- 
ing at  anywhere  from  s25  down  to  S3.  and  going  beg- 
ging at  that;"  then  aloud  he  said,  "  I  don't  suppose  you'd 


CRACKER  "BOB   WAS    PROJECTED   THROUGH   THE   AIR   AS   THOUqp    HURLED   FROM    A   CATAPULT. 


sell  it,  though,  even  for  a  hundred  dollars,  would  you, 
'  Cracker'?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know.  You  see,  business  is  business, 
and  though  I  should  hate  to  part  with  such  an  uncom- 
mon good  wheel,  a  chance  to  clear  sixty  dollars  doesn't 
come  to  a  fellow  every  day." 

"  So  you  paid  forty  dollars  for  it,  did  you?" 

"Yes,"  hesitated  "Cracker"  Bob,  who  had  meant  to 
keep  the  price  of  his  purchase  a  secret.  "He  asked  fifty, 
Cuddy  did;  but  when  he  found  forty  was  all  I  had,  and 
knew  how  badly  I  wanted  to  take  this  trip,  he  said  he'd 
knock  off  ten  for  cash,  seeing  'twas  me." 

"  Seems  to  me  you  have  been  pretty  thick  with  '  Cuddy,' 
as  you  call  him,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  Rangers 
didn't  choose  to  have  him  for  an  associate, "said  Will 
Rogers,  who  was  very  jealous  of  the  social  position  of 
his  Rangers,  and  anxious  that  they  should  live  up  to  the 
high  standard  he  had  set  for  them. 

"  Oh  110,  not  what  you'd  call  thick,  but  when  a  fellow 
does  you  a  real  favor  you  can't  help  feeling  kindly  tow- 
ard him.  Besides,  Cuddy  isn't  so  bad  a  chap  when  you 
come  to  know  him.  He's  a  bicycle  rider  from  the  word 
go,  too,  and  was  real  interested  in  this  trip.  Wanted  to 
know  just  what  roads  we  were  going  to  take,  and  all  about 
it.  Said  he'd  give  all  his  old  shoes  to  go  along;  but  of 
course  there  was  no  use  thinking  of  it  now  that  he'd  sold 
his  wheel." 

"  Well,  I  for  one  am  glad  he  isn't  going  on  this  trip," 
said  Will  Rogers,  "though  of  course  he  may  be  better 
than  the  rest  of  the  Berks  Mill  boys.  But  come,  fellows, 
we  must  be  getting  a  move  on  if  we  expect  to  reach 
Chester  to-day." 

"Which  road  do  we  take?"  asked  Tom  Burgess,  who 
was  consulting  a  map  of  the  State  that,  folded  so  as  to 
expose  to  view  the  section  they  were  traversing,  was  fas- 
tened to  the  handle-bar  of  his  machine  by  a  couple  of 
elastic  bands. 

"I  don't  know,"  replied  Will.  "They  both  lead  to 
Chester,  and  both  are  so  bad  that  whichever  one  we 
choose  we'll  wish  we'd  taken  the  other.  The  only  dif- 
ference is  that  one  is  hilly  and  rocky,  while  the  other  is 
flat  and  sandy.  They  mend  the  lir.st  by  just  laving  logs 


150 


HAEPEK'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


\OLU11K  XVI. 


across  it  every  few  hundred  feet  so  as  to  make  '  thank- 
ye-marms,'  that  are  fine  for  sled-coasting,  but  mighty 
rough  on  bicycles,  I  can  tell  you.  They  mend  the  other 
by  digging  all  the  sand,  mud,  and  weeds  out  of  the 
ditches,  and  piling  them  in  the  middle  of  the  track  so 
that,  until  heavy  rains  come  and  wash  them  all  back 
again,  the  road  is  about  as  good  to  travel  over  as  a 
ploughed  field." 

"  Hill  climbing  would  be  so  tough  on  you  fellows  that 
I  vote  for  the  lower  road,"  said  "  Cracker"  Bob. 

"So  do  I, "laughed  Billy  Barlow,  "forl  haven't  ridden 
in  so  long  that  the  easier  we  can  take  it  for  a  day  or  two 
the  better  I  shall  be  suited." 

"All  right,"  agreed  Will.  "The  lower  road  it  is." 
As  he  spoke  he  vaulted  into  his  saddle  and  set  forth. 
Tom  and  Billy,  making  neat  pedal  mounts,  quickly  fol- 
lowed him.  while  "  Cracker "  Bob,  with  one  foot  on  the 
step  of  his  tall  machine,  and  hopping  with  the  other  to 
acquire  headway,  climbed  into  his  saddle  and  brought  up 
the  rear.  He  soon  caught  up  with  the  naval  cadet,  who 
had  fallen  behind  the  others,  and  now  complained  that, 
beautiful  as  his  wheel  was,  it  ran  harder  than  any  he  had 
ever  ridden.  "I  can't  imagine  why," he  said,  "for  I've 
oiled  all  the  bearings  I  can  find." 

"Probably  because  it's  new,"  suggested  "Cracker" 
Bob.  "Now  mine  goes  as  easy  as  anything,  and  that's 
one  of  the  big  advantages  of  a  second-hand  machine." 


CHA 


PTgR 


IV; 


A  LESSON  IN  ROAD -MAKING. 

THE  little  squad  of  wheelmen  had  not  been  gone  many 
minutes  when  a  light  buggy  containing  two  lads,  the 
elder  of  whom  was  a  solidly  built,  rather  good-looking 
chap  of  about  eighteen,  drove  up  from  the  direction  of 
Berks,  and  was  halted  at  the  junction  of  the  two  roads. 
While  the  younger  held  the  reins,  the  other  jumped  out 
and  examined  the  various  wheel  tracks  imprinted  in  the 
dust  of  the  highway. 

"  They've  taken  the  lower  road,"  he  announced,  as  he 
re-entered  the  buggy,  "so  we'll  go  by  the  other.  I  could 
track  the  whole  four  of  them — Softy  Jones  on  his  back 
number  that  he  might  have  had  for  half  the  money  if  he 
only  knew  a  tenth  part  of  what  he  thinks  he  does,  snob 
Rogers  and  dude  Burgess  on  their  old  cushions,  and  Billy 
Patch,  the  government  pauper,  on  his  borrowed  pneu- 
matic. A  choice  lot  to  represent  Berks  in  the  city,  aren't 
they?  Nevermind;  I  think  I'll  manage  to  make  things 
so  lively  for  them  along  the  road  that  they'll  be  glad  to 
let  bicycling  alone,  and  stick  to  their  little  old  squirt  en- 
gine for  amusement.  If  I  don't,  my  name's  not — 

"  Baker,"  interrupted  the  younger  lad,  who  was  listen- 
ing with  undisguised  admiration  to  his  companion's  boast. 
"Don't  forget  that  it's  Baker." 

In  the  mean  time  the  road  committee,  happily  uncon- 
scious of  the  scornful  remarks  just  passed  upon  them, 
continued  their  way  upon  the  lower  road  with  varying 
fortunes.  For  some  miles  they  were  able  to  ride  after  a 
fashion  by  carefully  picking  their  way,  but  finally  the 
two  who  were  in  the  real-overtook  the  leaders,  dismounted, 
and  gazed  ruefully  at  the  prospect  before  them.  As  far 
as  they  could  see  the  road  looked  as  though  upheaved  by 
an  earthquake.  Its  sides  had  been  deeply  ploughed,  and 
all  the  loose  soil  was  scraped  into  the  middle,  where  it 
formed  a  sandy  ridge  that  bristled  with  bits  of  sod  and 
the  ragged  plumes  of  weeds. 

Tom  Burgess,  who,  being  a  city  lad.  had  never  seen 
anything  of  this  kind,  laughed  as  he  realized  the  accuracy 
of  Will  Rogers's  description  of  country-road  mending,  but 
could  not  believe  that  in  its  present  condition  the  job  was 
considered  finished.  "  Surely,"  he  said,  "  they  will  roll 
it  down  solid  before  leaving  it?" 

"Not  much  they  won't,''  replied  Will.      "The  town 


of  Berks  doesn't  own  even  a  horse-roller,  while  if  you 
should  suggest  to  the  Selectmen  that  it  would  pay  them 
to  buy  a  steam-roller  they'd  think  you  were  a  lunatic. 
They'd  ask  if  you  knew  what  one  would  cost,  and  how 
much  the  road  tax  would  have  to  be  increased  to  pay 
for  it." 

"  How  much  would  it  be  increased?"  asked  Tom. 

"  My  father  says  not  more  than  two  mills  on  a  dollar," 
answered  Will,  "and  that  would  only  be  for  one  year. 
The  trouble  is,  though,  that  it  would  have  to  be  paid  in 
cash  instead  of  by  day's  work,  which  is  the  way  most 
every  one  settles  his  road  tax  now.  It's  the  meanest  kind 
of  a  way,  too,  so  far  as  accomplishing  anything  is  con- 
cerned, for  you  see  they  only  have  to  put  in  a  certain 
amount  of  time,  without  regard  to  how  much  work  they 
do  or  how  little,  and  so  they  do  as  little  as  possible." 

During  this  conversation  the  boys  were  trudging  along 
on  foot  pushing  their  wheels  before  them,  since  riding  over 
that  upturned  "  celery  bed,"  as  Will  Rogers  called  it,  was 
out  of  the  question.  At  length  Billy  Barlow  called  out: 

"I  say,  Tom,  I  wish  you'd  see  what  is  the  matter  with 
this  machine.  I  can  scarcely  push  it,  and  I  don't  believe 
it's  altogether  the  road  that  makes  it  run  so  hard." 

"  Have  you  oiled  the  bearings?" 

"  I  should  say  I  had.  I've  put  on  all  there  was  in  the 
can." 

"Then  you've  given  them  about  ten  times  too  much. 
A  drop  or  two  on  each  would  have  been  better.  Still, 
that  ought  not  to  make  it  run  hard.  Lift  your  front 
wheel  and  spin  it.  That's  all  right.  Now  the  rear  one." 

The  forward  wheel  spun  around  as  though  it  would 
never  stop,  but  the  other  barely  turned. 

"  There's  the  trouble!"  cried  Tom  Burgess,  triumphant- 
ly. "Look  at  your  chain.  It's  so  tight  that  it  is  a 
wonder  the  wheel  turns  at  all.  It  is  dry  as  a  poker  too, 
while  it  ought  always  to  be  kept  well  lubricated.  Oil 
alone  will  do,  but  graphite  wet  with  oil  is  better.  Graph- 
ite is  something  I  forgot,  though,  and  we  must  try  to  get 
a  supply  in  Chester.  You  said  there  was  a  bicycle  agency 
there,  didn't  you,  Will?" 

"Yes;  I've  heard  there  was  a  first-class  one  recently 
established  there,  though  I've  never  seen  it." 

The  moment  Billy  Barlow's  chain  was  loosened  and 
properly  adjusted,  his  wheel  ran  so  easily  that  he  said  it 
felt  like  a  bird  set  free,  and  he  believed  he  could  ride  it 
even  over  that  road.  By  keeping  in  the  ditch,  which 
was,  of  course,  perfectly  dry,  he  did  manage  to  ride  after 
a  fashion,  as  did  Will  and  Tom ;  but  as  poor  Bob's  big 
narrow-tired  wheel  cut  so  deeply  into  the  soft  earth  that 
the  only  progress  he  could  make  was  by  taking  headers, 
the  others  finally  dismounted,  and  walked  to  keep  him 
company. 

"It  doesn't  seem  to  me  that  this  bicycle  touring  is 
what  it  is  cracked  up  to  be,"  remarked  the  owner  of  the 
tall  wheel,  disconsolately,  as  he  gained  his  feet  after  the 
fourth  header,  while  the  perspiration  poured  down  his 
face  and  traced  little  rivulets  in  its  coating  of  dust. 

"No,"  agreed  Billy  Barlow;  "and  if  it  wasn't  for  the 
name  of  the  thing,  we  might  as  well  be  walking." 

"  Oh,  come,  fellows,  don't  growl!"  cried  Captain  Will. 
"  Our  troubles  will  be  all  forgotten  as  soon  as  we  come  ' 
to  a  good  road." 

At  length,  late  in  the  afternoon,  they  reached  the  brisk 
town  of  Chester,  where  they  were  to  spend  the  night. 
As  they  rode  up  its  elm-lined  main  street  they  halted  at 
a  shop  bearing  the  sign  "Bicycle  Supplies"  to  get  some 
graphite.  The  proprietor  met  them  at  the  door  with  a 
smile. 

"  Been  looking  for  you  boys  more'n  an  hour,"  he  said. 
"Come  right  in.  Glad  to  see  you.  Glad  to  hear  that 
Berks  is  taking  up  bicycling.  So  you  are  Road  Rangers, 
are  you?  Ha!  ha!  Good  name;  capital  name.  Now 
what  can  I  do  for  you  in  the  supply  line,  gentlemen  ?" 


DECEMBER  25,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


151 


"How  did  you  know  we  were  coming,  and  that  we 
were  Road  Rangers?"  demanded  Will  Rogers. 

"How  did  I  know?  Why,  most  natural  way  in  the 
world.  One  of  your  fellows  was  along  here  about  an 
hour  ago,  and  told  me  all  about  it.  Bought  a  machine 
of  me,  too,  and  I  let  him  have  it  at  a  big  discount,  'cause 
he  said  there'd  be  lots  of  fellows  in  Berks  want  one  just 
like  it  if  it  suited  him." 

"  What  makes  you  think  lie  was  a  Road  Ranger?"  ask- 
ed Will. 

"'Cause  he  said  so,  and  he  wore  one  of  them  same 
badges  like  your'n  on  his  cap." 

"  Did  he  tell  you  his  name?" 

"  Oh  yes.  Said  it  was  Baker,  and  that  his  father  was 
the  richest  man  in  Berks.  I  haven't  been  here  long  my- 
self, but  I've  heard  of  Squire  Baker  of  Berks  by  reputa- 
tion, so  I  knew  it  was  all  right." 

"Are  you  sure  he  said  Baker?  Wasn't  it  Bacon?" 
asked  Tom  Burgess. 

"  Well,  maybe  it  was.  It  was  either  Baker  or  Bacon, 
though  I  couldn't  rightly  say  which." 

CHAPTER    V. 
AN    EARLY    MORNING    START. 

THE  information  furnished  by  the  bicycle-dealer  formed 
an  all-absorbing  topic  of  conversation  that  evening.  It 
did  not  seem  likely  that  the  unknown  purchaser  of  a 
bicycle  could  be  Hal  Bacon,  seeing  that  he  already  owned 
the  wheel  now  ridden  by  Billy  Barlow,  and  yet  it  might 
have  been.  Hal  was  very  fond  of  practical  jokes  and 
surprises.  His  father  might  have  given  him  the  money 
witli  which  to  buy  awheel,  knowing  that  he  could  readily 
sell  it  whenever  lie  chose  to  one  of  the  Road  Rangers.  He 
might  have  driven  to  Chester  over  the  hill  road  for  that 
purpose,  and  might  even  now  be  spending  the  night  with 
some  friend  in  town  preparatory  to  surprising  them  by  a 
sudden  appearance  on  the  morrow.  This  was  the  con- 
clusion finally  reached  by  the  committee,  and  their  belief 
in  it  was  strengthened  by  the  knowledge  that  the  un- 
known rider  wore  a  Road  Ranger  badge.  There  had 
only  been  as  many  of  these  made  as  there  were  members 
of  the  club,  and  there  had  not  been  time  since  their  dis- 
tribution to  have  one  of  them  copied. 

"  I  say,  fellows, "suggested  Will  Rogers,  after  they  had 
decided  that  the  unknown  must  be  Hal  Bacon,  "let's  get 
ahead  of  him  in  the  surprise  business,  and  give  him  a 
chance  to  show  how  much  hard  work  he  is  willing  to  do 
for  the  sake  of  our  company." 

"  How  ?"  asked  "  Cracker  "  Bob. 

"By  leaving  here  at  daylight  and  running  on  as  far 
as  Dorset  before  breakfast.  He  will  never  think  of  our 
starting  so  early  as  that." 

"Good  enough!"  cried  the  others  except  "  Cracker" 
Bob,  who  was  feeling  so  lame  and  stiff  from  the  day's  ride 
that  the  prospect  of  remounting  his  wheel  at  daylight 
was  not  particularly  fascinating.  Billy  Barlow  was  also 
feeling  the  effects  of  the  unaccustomed  exercise,  but 
would  have  scorned  to  betray  the  fact. 

Following  Tom  Burgess's  example,  they  all  gave  their 
wheels  a  thorough  clean  ing,  and  carefully  examined  every 
bearing  directly  after  supper,  a  practice  that  they  kept  up 
during  the  whole  trip.  Directly  upon  the  completion  of 
this  most  important  of  a  bicycle  tourist's  duties  they  all 
"  turned  in,"  as  the  naval  cadet  said,  leaving  an  order  at 
the  hotel  office  to  be  called  at  daylight. 

It  was  a  silent  and  sleepy  quartet  that  wheeled  out  of 
Chester  just  as  the  sun  was  rising  the  following  morning, 
and  it  had  taken  all  of  Will  Rogers's  powers  of  persua- 
sion to  get  them  started.  Before  they  had  gone  a  mile, 
however,  they  were  warmed  up  to  their  work,  as  well  as 
thoroughly  alive  to  the  beauty  of  their  surroundings  and 
the  delight  of  speeding,  as  only  a  wheelman  can,  through 


the  deliciously  cool  air  over  one  of  the  capital  roads  for 
which  Chester  is  famous.  Fleecy  mist  blankets  were 
rolling  off  the  lowlands;  joyous  bird-notes  rang  out  from 
every  grove  and  orchard;  the  voices  of  cattle  and  other 
barn-yard  tenants  seemed  to  give  them  welcome  as  they 
swept  past;  farm  dogs  rushed  out  and  barked  at  them, 
but  always  with  wagging  tails,  indicative  of  good-will; 
milk-maids  waved  them  greetings;  and  farm  hands  trudg- 
ing to  their  work,  or  riding  ponderous  plough -horses, 
shouted  after  them  in  good-natured  banter. 

"  Isn't  it  glorious!"  cried  Tom  Burgess  to  Will  Rogers, 
as  these  two  scorched  along  side  by  side  far  in  advance 
of  the  others. 

"I  should  say  it  was,"  answered  the  young  Captain, 
breathlessly;  "and  we've  left  Hal  behind  too,  for  there 
is  no  trace  of  a  bicycle  having  passed  over  the  road  this 
morning." 

"Hadn't  we  better  wait  for  him  at  Dorset?" 

' '  I  guess  so.  The  joke  will  be  on  him  fast  enough  by 
that  time." 

It  lacked  a  few  minutes  of  being  an  hour  since  they 
left  Chester  when  the  two  leaders  dashed  into  the  village 
of  Dorset,  hot  and  flushed,  but  keenly  exhilarated  by  their 
ten-mile  spin  over  one  of  the  best  bits  of  road  in  the  State. 
They  had  no  difficulty  in  discovering  a  resting-place,  for 
the  rambling  old-fashioned  tavern,  such  as  may  still  be 
seen  in  many  New  England  villages,  was  the  most  con- 
spicuous object  on  Dorset's  single  street.  As  they  dis- 
mounted before  the  wide  front  porch,  the  landlord  came 
forth  to  greet  them,  saying: 

"Hello!  Hain't  you  boys  got  here  sooner  than  you 
expected?  I  wasn't  looking  for  ye  much  afore  noon,  an' 
thought  maybe  ye'd  stop  here  for  dinner." 

"  How  did  you  happen  to  be  expecting  us  at  all?"  asked 
Captain  Will. 

"Oh,  I  heard  all  about  your  little  trouble  in  Chester," 
answered  the  landlord,  witli  a  meaning  laugh.  "  I  know 
how  you  fellows  would  ride  on  the  sidewalk,  spite  of  the 
notices,  and  how  you  got  pulled  in  for  it.  I  expect  Ches- 
ter's right,  too,  though  we  hain't  got  no  such  law  in  Dor- 
set. It  doesn't  seem  exactly  the  thing,  though,  for  bicycles 
to  occupy  the  sidewalks,  seeing  how  reckless  they're  gen- 
erally rid." 

"  Of  course  it  isn't."  retorted  Will.  "A  bicycle  has  no 
more  right  to  be  on  a  sidewalk,  provided  the  road  is  pass- 
able, than  a  team  has.  But  I  don't  understand  what  you 
are  driving  at.  We  haven't  ridden  on  any  sidewalk,  or 
been  arrested,  or  anything  of  the  kind,  and  I'd  like  to 
know  who  put  such  an  idea  into  your  head." 

"  Why,  the  one  chap  who  stuck  to  the  road.way,  and  so 
didn't  get  hauled  up,  and  who  came  on  here  last  night, 
where  he's  been  waiting-  for  you  ever  since,"  replied  the 
landlord,  a  little  sharply. 

"But  there  isn't  any  such  person,"  persisted  Will. 
"There  are  only  four  of  us,  we  two  and  two  more,  who 
will  be  along  in  a  minute." 

"  Yes,  he  said  there  was  four  of  ye,  and  that  you  was 
always  getting  him  into  trouble  with  your  recklessness. 
Said  he  should  go  right  on  alone  so  as  to  keep  out  of  it; 
only  one  of  you  had  all  the  expense  money,  so  he  was 
obliged  to  wait  on  ye.  He's  a  level-headed  boy,  I  can, 
tell  ye,  and  if  you  take  my  advice  you'll  keep  out  of  lots 
of  scrapes  by  doing  as  he  says." 

"  But  I  tell  you,  sir,  there  isn't  any  such  person  belong- 
ing to  our  party,"  cried  Will,  hotly,  "and  we  don't  know 
anything  about  him." 

"Oh,  come,  now,"  protested  the  landlord,  with  an  in- 
dulgent smile,  "  what's  the  use  of  talking  that  way  when 
he  wears  the  same  badge  on  his  cap  that  you  do?  But 
you  can  see  him  for  yourselves.  He  was  sitting  on  the 
porch  here  a  minute  ago  waiting  for  his  breakfast.  Guess 
he  must  be  in  the  dining-room.  Just  step  this  way." 

The  bewildered  boys  followed  the  landlord  to  the  din- 


152 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  A.U. 


ing-room  door  and  looked  in,  but  the  room  was  empi\. 
Then  they  went  out  to  the  stable,  where  a  hostler  told 
them  that  the  young  gent  had  "jest  rid  out  a  little  ways 
to  see  if  his  machine  was  all  right,"  but  had  said  he  would 
be  back  in  a  minute. 

Fifteen  minutes  passed,  and  the  mysterious  rider  did 
not  put  in  an  appearance.  Billy  Barlow  and  "Cracker" 
Bob  arrived,  and  all  hands  sat  down  to  the  breakfast  for 
which  their  early  ride  had  given  them  so  keen  an  appe- 
tite, but  there  was  no  sign  of  any  other  wheelman. 

"Who  can  it  be?"  was  the  question  they  asked  each 
other  over  and  over.  Of  course  he  was  not  Hal  Bacon, 
for  though  Hal  dearly  loved  a  joke,  he  would  never  de- 
scend to  falsehood  for  the  sake  of  carrying  one  out. 

After  breakfast  they  stripped  their  wheels  of  mud- 
guards, that  not  only  added  a  useless  weight,  but  pro- 
duced an  unpleasant  rattling.  They  also  reduced  their 
baggage  by  taking  out  a  number  of  things  that  had  at 
first  seemed  indispensable,  but  which  they  now  found  they 
could  do  without.  All  of  these  they  did  up  in  a  compact 
bundle  and  sent  back  to  Berks  by  express.  As  "Cracker  " 
Bob  had  no  mud-guards  on  his  tall  wheel,  he  decided, 
contrary  to  the  advice  of  the  others,  to  reduce  weight  by 
taking  ott'  its  brake.  He  argued  that  as  the  only  time  he 
had  used  it  the  result  had  been  a  header,  he  believed  he 
would  be  just  as  well  if  not  better  off  without  it. 

When  all  was  again  in  readiness  for  a  start,  and  Tom 
Burgess  went  to  settle  for  their  breakfast,  he  handed  the 
landlord  a  ten-dollar  bill,  and  was  surprised  to  receive 
but  seven  dollars  in  change. 

"  I  thought  breakfast  was  fifty  cents  apiece?"  he  said. 

"So  it  is,"  replied  the  landlord.  "That  makes  two 
dollars,  and  the  other  dollar  is  for  your  friend's  supper 
and  night's  lodging.  By  rights  I  ought  to  charge  you 
for  his  beakfast  too,  seeing  that  he  ordered  it." 

"  But  he  isn't  our  friend,  and  we  haven't  anything  to 
do  with  him,"  expostulated  Tom. 

"He  wears  your  badge,"  answered  the  landlord,  con- 
clusively. At  the  same  time  he  locked  his  money-drawer 
and  turned  away,  with  an  air  that  said  as.  plainly  as 
words,  "I've  got  the  dollar,  and  would  just  like  to  see 
you  get  it  back  again." 

Tom  was  sensible  enough  to  realize  the  folly  of  a 
quarrel  with  one  who  so  evidently  had  the  best  of  the 
situation,  and,  besides,  the  other  fellows  were  impatiently 
calling  on  him  to  hurry.  So  saying,  "Very  well,  sir,  we 
shall  know  better  than  ever  to  stop  here  again,"  he  re- 
joined his  companions,  mounted  his  wheel,  and  the  Ran- 
gers again  took  to  the  road. 

The  others  were  highly  indignant  when  Tom  related 
what  had  just  taken  place,  and  "Cracker"  Bob  proposed 
that  they  get  even  with  the  landlord  by  returning  to  the 
tavern  for  dinner,  and  then  leaving  without  paying  for 
it;  but  his  comrades  agreed  that  in  the  present  case  it  was 
wiser  to  submit  to  one  extortion  than  to  light  against  it. 

CHAPTER    VI. 
TRACKING   THE  MYSTERIOUS  WHEELMAN. 

"WE'VE  got  to  overtake  that  fellow,  whoever  he  is, 
anil  put  a  stop  to  this  thing!"  exclaimed  Will  Rogers, 
resolutely,  as  he  bent  over  his  handle  bar,  and  forced  his 
wheel  ahead  with  redoubled  speed.  The  others  were  so 
fully  in  accord  with  this  sentiment  that  they  at  once 
followed  his  example.  In  spite  of  their  efforts  to  make 
speed,  however,  they  did  not  seem  to  get  ahead  very 
r.ipidlv.  Although  the  road  was  still  fairly  good,  it  now 
traversed  a  hill  country,  and  was  very  dusty.  The  pleas- 
ant breeze  of  sunrise  had  increased  to  a  strong  wind  that 
blew  directly  in  their  faces,  and  no  one,  not  even  a  sailor, 
has  iriva.ter  cause  to  despise  a  head  wind  than  a  wheel- 
man. To  "Cracker"  Bob  on  his  lofty  mount  it  was  par- 
ticularly trying,  and  so  impeded  his  progress,  that  the 


others  were  obliged  to  wait  every  now  and  then  for  him 
to  catch  up.  In-climbing  the  many  hills,  too,  while  the 
safeties  generally  bore  their  riders  to  the  very  top,  the 
ordinary  rarely  carried  its  new  owner  more  than  halt- 
way  up.  There  it  would  stop,  and  he,  dismounting,  would 
be  compelled  to  ignominiously  push  it  up  the  rest  of  the 
ascent.  In  the  descents,  though,  "Cracker"  Bob  found 
some  compensation,  for  the  big  wheel  always  out-coasted 
the  others,  and  so  was  always  well  in  the  lead  at  the 
bottom.  There  was  one  other  situation  in  which  the 
rider  of  the  tall  wheel  had  an  advantage  over  his  com- 
panions. It  was  when  they  were  beset  by  dogs — and  on 
that  morning  every  dog  along  the  road  seemed  to  be  pos- 
sessed of  a  peculiar  spite  against  wheelmen.  They  tore 
after  them  from  yards  and  doorways  with  vicious  snap- 
pings  of  gleaming  teeth  that  invariably  put  the  safeties  to 
precipitate  flight,  though  "Cracker"  Bob,  secure  in  his 
superior  elevation,  never  increased  his  speed  unless  the 
dog  happened  to  be  unusually  big. 

Not  only  did  the  dogs  along  the  road  express  a  disap- 
proval of  wheelmen,  but  the  attitude  of  the  people  was  in 
striking  coiitrast.  to  anything  our  lads  had  previously  en- 
countered. When,  a  few  miles  out  from  Dorset,  they 
halted  for  a  drink  of  water  from  a  temptingly  cool-look- 
ing well,  overhung  by  a  massive  sweep,  they  were  curtly 
told  by  a  burly  farmer  that  his  was  not  a  public  well, 
and  that  if  they  valued  their  health  they'd  better  move 
on.  He  muttered  something  else  about  dudes  and  velo- 
cipedes that  they  only  comprehended  sufficiently  to  con- 
vince them  that  he  was  in  a  very  irritable  frame  of  mind. 

"That's  the  first  time  I  was  ever  refused  a  drink  of 
water!"  exclaimed  Will  Rogers,  indignantly,  as  th«  dis- 
appointed boys  remounted  and  rode  away. 

;  "Something  has  gone  wrong  with  the  old  duffer,  and 
he's  taking  it  out  on  us,"  remarked  "Cracker"  Bob,  sage- 
ly. "  Doesn't  it  make  you  thirsty,  though,  to  have  water 
within  sight  and  not  be  able  to  get  at  it?  I  believe  the 
inside  of  my  mouth  is  as  dusty  as  this  road." 

"Never  mind,"  said  Billy  Barlow,  cheerfully.  "  Such 
people  are  fortunately  very  rare.  At  the  next  house 
they'll  probably  receive  us  with  open  arms,  and  not  only 
show  us  the  way  to  the  well,  but  take  us  to  the  spring- 
house  and  give  us  all  the  cold  milk  we  can  drink  besides." 

"  Don't  I  hope  so!"  fervently  ejaculated  Bob. 

Billy  Barlow's  failure  as  a  prophet  was  so  conspicuous 
as  to  be  remarkable.  At  the  next  house  not  only  did  a 
woman  slam  a  door  in  their  faces  the  moment  she  saw 
them,  and  before  they  could  prefer  their  modest  request, 
but  they  heard  her  calling:  "  Rube!  Oh,  Rube!  Here's 
some  more  of  them  pesky  bicycle  fellows."  They  also 
heard  a  gruff  voice  answer,  "All  right;  I'm  coming, 
quick's  I  get  my  gun." 

As  the  boys  walked  slowly  and  still  thirstily  back  to 
where  they  had  left,  their  wheels,  the  others  looked  quiz- 
zically at  Billy  Barlow  and  laughed. 

They  rode  a  hot  dusty  mile  before  seeing  another  house, 
and  here  they  had  hardly  opened  the  front  gate  before  a 
shock-headed  lad  ran  out,  unchained  an  ugly-looking 
bull  dog,  and  "sicked"  him  on  to  them.  This  time  their 
retreat  was  rapid,  not  to  say  precipitate,  and  they  were 
thankful  to  be  again  mounted  before  the  dog  overtook 
them.  As  it  was,  he  chased  them  for  nearly  a  mile,  so 
that  when  they  finally  shook  him  off  they  were  breath 
less  and  dripping  with  perspiration. 

"Whew!"  cried  Tom  Burgess,  mopping  his  heated  face. 
"Talk  about  your  hospitality!  This  beats  all  I  ever 
heard  of." 

"I  only  wish  I'd  brought  my  pistol  along,"  remarked 
Bob,  savagely.  "  I'd  have  shot  that  brute  down  like  a — " 
He  was  about  to  say  "dog."  but  reflecting  that  the  brute 
in  question  was  a  dog,  changed  it  to  "  tiuvr." 

The  picture  thus  suggested  of  "Cracker"  Bob  Jones 
shooting  tigers  with  his  little  22-calibre  revolver  from 


DECEMBER   25,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


153 


the  top  of  a  tall  bicycle  was  so  irresistible  that  the  others 
shouted  with  laughter. 

"It  doesn't  seem  to  me  a  laughing  matter  at  all," 
growled  the  object  of  their  mirth.  "  I  tell  you  I  begin 
to  know  what  dying  from  thirst  means,  and  I'm  bound 
to  have  a  drink  of  something  at  the  very  next  house  we 
come  to,  I  don't  care  if  it's  guarded  by  fifty  bull-dogs." 

In  spite  of  this  confident  assertion,  "Cracker"  Bob 
didn't  obtain  a  drink  of  anything  at  the  next  house,  for 
in  front  of  it  was  a  very  angry  woman.  She  wore  a  sun- 
bonnet  and  flourished  a  broom  and  ran,  woman  fashion, 
and  screamed  and  "shooed"  at  a  flock  of  the  most  un- 
gainly long-legged 
chickens  that  ever 
set  out  to  scratch 
up  a  flower  gar- 
den and  aggravate 
a  human  being. 
They  had  evident- 
ly escaped  from 
the  fowl-yard,  and 
she  was  evidently 
striving  to  drive 
them  back  to  it. 
She  had  been  at  it 
for  some  time,  as 
was  shown  by  her 
dishevelled  appear- 
ance, and  judging 
from  the  tirade  of 
abuse  she  heaped 
upon  the  fourRan- 
gers  the  inoment 
she  noticed  that 
they  had  dismount- 
ed before  her  gate, 
had  completely 
lost  control  of  her 
temper. 

"  Clear  out,  you 
young  villains!" 
she  cried.  "  Don't 
you  dare  open  that 
gate,  or  I'll  teach 
you  what  kind  of 
wood  a  broomstick 
is  made  of.  I'll 
have  you  arrested 
for  trespass,  too ; 
and  I'd  have  you 
hung,  if  I  could. 
I've  had  trouble 
enough  with  you 
and  your  kind  this 
morning,  so  go 
on." 

"  But,  madam" — began  Will  Rogers,  lifting  his  cap. 

"  Don't  you  '  madam  '  me !"  screamed  the  irate  woman, 
advancing  toward  the  gate,  with  a  menacing  flourish 
of  her  broom.  "One  of  your  kind  has  'madamed'  me 
once  too  often  already  to-day.  Oh,  I  know  you  and  the 
tricks  you'd  play  on  a  poor  lone  woman!  I  know  what 
your  R.  R.  stands  for  too!  It  means  Regular  Ruffians!" 

By  this  time  she  had  advanced  with  so  ugly  and  deter- 
mined an  aspect  close  to  where  the  boys  were  standing 
that  "Cracker"  Bob  said  in  a  low  voice  to  Will  Rogers: 

"I  don't  believe  we'd  better  go  in,  I'm  not  so  awfully 
thirsty  after  all." 

"No,"  laughed  Will;  "the  invitation  to  make  a  visit 
is  hardly  cordial  enough  for  us  to  accept." 

So  the  riders  scrambled  into  their  saddles  again  and 
moved  off,  lifting  their  caps  with  ironical  courtesy  to  the 
woman  as  they  went. 


WELL,  REDDY,"  ASKED    BILLY    BARLOW ..."  HAVE   YOD    HAD    ENOUGH! 


"  It  looks  to  me  as  though  there  was  a  conspiracy  on 
foot  to  choke  us  to  death,"  remarked  Billy  Barlow,  who 
was  the  first  to  break  the  moody  silence  in  which  the 
committee  were' reflecting  upon  the  recent  incidents  of 
their  trip. 

"I  know  that  if  I  ever  get  within  reach  of  water 
again  I'll  lay  in  a  supply  that  will  last  me  for  one 
while,"  replied  "  Cracker"  Bob,  in  a  tone  that  threat- 
ened the  very  existence  of  the  first  well  or  spring  he 
might  happen  upon. 

In  spite  of  their  intense  and  ever-increasing  thirst  the 
young  wheelmen  no  longer  looked  forward  to  discover- 
ing a  farm-house 
with  cheerful  an- 
ticipations, but 
only  wondered 
what  might  be  the 
nature  of  the  re- 
ception in  store 
for  them.  It  was 
even  proposed  by 
"Cracker"  Bob 
that  they  should 
give  up  their  trip 
and  turn  back,  or 
else  finish  it  by 
train  from  the  first 
railway  station ; 
but  to  these  pro- 
posals the  others 
would  not  listeii 
for  a  moment. 

They  had  pass- 
ed over  a  wea- 
ry stretch  of  road 
without  so  much 
as  seeing  a  house, 
when  all  at  once, 
at  the  foot  of  a 
long  descent  their 
ears  were,  greeted 
by  the  pleasant 
gurgle  of  water. 
In  another  mo- 
ment all  four  were 
lying  beside  a  tiny 
brook  that  rippled 
over  moss-  grown 
rocks  amid  dense 
shadows,  and  with 
their  hot  faces 
plunged  in  its  cool 
waters. 

"  Cracker  "  Bob 
was  the  first  to 
spring  to  his  feet. 

"Ow:  ow!  ough!  phew!"  He  coughed  and  sputtered, 
at  the  same  time  dancing  about  and  making  awful  faces. 
The  others  saw  that  he  was  choking,  and  began  to  beat 
him  lustily  on  the  back. 

"  Let  up,  fellows!  It's  gone  down,"  he  cried  a  moment 
later  in  a  tone  that  spoke  both  of  despair  and  relief. 

"  What  was  it  ?"  asked  the  others,  synipalliizingly. 
"  Did  you  swallow  the  wrong-  way,  or  get  some  water  in 
your  windpipe,  or  what?" 

"Water  in  my  windpipe;"  repeated  "Cracker"  Bob, 
scornfully,  while  the  tears  caused  by  his  recent  strangu- 
lation trickled  slowly  down  his  dusty  cheeks.  "  I  >o  you 
suppose  I'd  have  made  such  a  fuss  for  a  little  thing  like 
that;  No,  siree;  but  I've  swallowed  something  alive — a 
minnow,  I  think.  Ugh!  I  can  feel  him  wriggle  now. 

"Trying  to  <;•(•(  out,  most  likely."  suggested  Tom  Bur- 
gess. "Open  your  mouth  and  irive  him  a  chance.  I 


154 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUMS  xvi. 


wouldn't  worry  about  it,  though.  Some  people  prefer 
their  fish  raw — the  Japanese,  for  instance." 

"Swallow  a  baited  fish-line,"  laughed  Will  Rogers, 
"and  maybe  you'll  get  a  bite." 

"  Stand  on  your  head." 

"Eat  a  lot  of  stuff  and  smother  him." 

Of  all  these  suggestions  the  last  appeared  so  practical, 
and  was  so  in  accord  with  "Cracker"  Bob's  own  views 
that  he  unslung  his  knapsack,  and,  opening  it,  displayed 
a  quantity  of  the  little  round  oyster- crackers  that  had 
suggested  his  nickname.  He  now  fell  upon  these  with 
avidity,  and  either  from  a  sympathetic  hunger,  or  because 
they  feared  they  might  have  swallowed  something  besides 
water  in  drinking  from  the  brook,  the  others  joined 
heartily  in  the  unexpected  feast  thus  provided,  nor  did 
they  stop  eating  so  long  as  a  single  cracker  remained. 

During  this  halt  the  riders  discussed  the  discourtesy 
they  had  met  with  that  morning,  and  wondered  at  it. 

"Do  you  suppose,"  asked  Billy  Barlow,  reflectively, 
"  that  it  could  have  anything  to  do  with  the  fellow  who 
is  ahead  of  us?" 

"I  shouldn't  be  one  bit  surprised  !"  cried  Will  Rogers, 
springing  to  his  feet.  "Now  that  I  recall  what  the 
woman  said,  I  think  it  more  than  likely.  At  any  rate  we 
must  overtake  him,  and  find  out  who  he  is,  as  well  as 
what  he  means  by  trying  to  get  us  into  scrapes.  So 
come  on,  fellows.  Ready  to  mount;  mount;  forward, 
double  quick,  wheel."  A  minute  later  they  were  steadily 
breasting  the  long  ascent  on  the  further  side  of  the  val- 
ley, and  following  with  keen  determination  the  plainly 
marked  trail  of  the  pneumatics  that  had  preceded  them. 

CHAPTER     VII. 
BULL  VERSUS  BICYCLE. 

THE  Road  Rangers  would  not  have  wondered  at  the 
discourtesy  with  which  they  had  been  treated  that  morn- 
ing could  they  have  witnessed  the  actions  of  the  wheel- 
man whose  trail  they  were  following.  He  was  travelling 
much  lighter  than  they,  his  wheel  being  stripped  of  every 
bit  of  metal  not  absolutely  indispensable,  and  unburdened 
by  luggage.  He  was  dressed  much  as  they  were,  and 
wore  a  Ranger  badge  on  his  cap  ;  but  his  equipment  con- 
sisted of  a  pair  of  field-glasses,  a  vicious-looking  raw-hide 
whip  attached  to  his  right  wrist  by  a  leather  thong,  a 
whistle  of  piercing  shrillness,  and  a  revolver,  the  butt  of 
which  projected  from  his  hip  pocket.  Ever  since  leav- 
ing Dorset  his  sole  aim  had  apparently  been  to  accom- 
plish as  much  mischief  and  arouse  as  much  ill-feeling 
against  wheelmen  as  possible. 

He  had  lashed  every  dog  that  came  within  reach  of 
his  stinging  raw-hide,  and  had  even  fired  pistol-shots  at 
several.  He  had  thrown  down  bars  and  left  gates  wide 
open,  besides  trying  to  frighten  the.  horses  of  such  teams 
as  he  met  or  overtook  with  blasts  from  his  whistle.  He 
had  ridden  on  sidewalks,  and  yelled  at  startled  pedestrians 
to  get  out  of  his  way.  He  had  stopped  at  half  a  dozen 
farm-houses  in  succession  on  the  pretense  of  wanting  a 
drink  of  water  or  glass  of  milk,  and  had  in  every  case  re- 
warded the  courtesy  with  which  he  was  received  by  some 
act  of  wanton  mischief.  For  these  acts  he  never  apolo- 
gized, but  only  jeered  at  his  victims  as  he  rode  away  so 
swiftly  as  to  defy  pursuit.  At  one  place  he  unhooked 
the  bucket  from  a  well-sweep  and  allowed  it  to  drop 
down  the  well,  at  another  he  caused  the  horse  attached 
to  a  milk-cart  to  run  away  and  break  the  shafts,  while 
at  a  third  he  upset  a  baby-carriage  and  tossed  a  kitten 
into  the  cistern.  At  the  place  where  the  Rangers  found 
the  angry  woman  he  quite  won  her  heart  by  excessive 
politeness,  and  then,  while  she  was  in  the  house  getting 
something  for  him  to  eat,  he  released  from  their  enclos- 
ures both  her  chickens  and  pigs.  He  accepted  the  neatly 
tied  package  of  lunch  that  she  handed  him  before  notic- 


ing the  mischief  he  had  accomplished,  and  then  telling 
her  to  collect  the  pay  he  had  promised  for  it  from  the 
companions  who  were  following  close  behind,  he  dashed 
away. 

From  every  hill-top  he  scanned  the  road  he  had  just 
traversed,  until  assured  that  the  Rangers  were  still  fol- 
lowing. On  catching  sight  of  them  he  would  grin, 
mount  his  wheel,  and  continue  his  journey,  planning 
some  new  scheme  for  their  annoyance  as  he  went.  It 
was  very  evident  that  he  cherished  a  bitter  grudge  against 
them,  and  conceived  this  to  be  a  capital  opportunity  for 
paying  it  off.  About  the  time  the  others  stopped  for  a 
rest  beside  the  little  stream  he  reached  the  summit  of  the 
long  ascent  leading  up  from  it,  and  there  he  halted  until 
they  again  took  the  road.  Then  he  remounted  and  disap- 
peared. 

When  the  Rangers  gained  the  place  from  which  he  had 
watched  their  movements  he,  of  course,  was  not  to  be 
seen,  and  they  started  on  an  exhilarating  coast  down  the 
smooth  roadway  of  the  opposite  side  without  a  suspicion 
that  their  unknown  tormentor  had  so  recently  spied 
them. 

There  is  always  a  risk  in  coasting  down  a  hill  of  which 
you  cannot  see  the  bottom,  and  it  is  increased  a  hundred- 
fold when  the  coast  is  undertaken  on  a  tall  wheel  with- 
out a  brake,  as  was  the  case  with  "Cracker"  Bob  Jones 
in  the  present  instance.  He  was  so  anxious  to  prove  the 
coasting  superiority  of  his  big  wheel  over  the  safeties  that, 
without  a  thought  of  the  possible  consequences,  he  threw 
his  legs  over  the  handle-bar,  and  started  at  a  rattling  pace 
down  the  long  hill.  He  uttered  an  exultant  shout  as  he 
passed  the  others  at  the  end  of  a  hundred-yard  dash,  and 
swept  on  with'  the  speed  of  the  wind.  It  was  gloriously 
exciting,  but  at  the  same  time  "Cracker"  Bob  did  wish 
that  he  had  a  brake  with  which  to  control  somewhat  his 
mad  flight.  All  at  once,  near  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  he 
discovered  that  the  road  made  a  curve.  There  was  bare- 
ly time  to  hope  that  the  way  might  be  free  of  teams,  and 
that  the  curve  might  not  be  too  sharp  to  be  passed  in  safe- 
ty, ere  he  shot  round  it  and  beheld  a  sight  that  filled  him 
with  dismay. 

There  was  not  a  team  to  be  seen,  and  the  road  was  still 
good;  but  filling  it  from  side  to  side,  and  charging  with 
lowered  heads  and  uplifted  tails  directly  toward  our  de- 
voted rider,  was  a  small  herd  of  cattle.  They  were  evi- 
dently stampeded  and  wild  with  terror. 

Realizing  that  an  attempt  to  turn  out  on  either  side 
would  only  result  in  his  being  dashed  on  the  rocks  with 
which  the  road  was  walled,  poor  Bob  clinched  his  teeth, 
gripped  his  handles  a  little  tighter,  and  drove  straight 
and  swift  as  an  arrow  toward  the  very  centre  of  the  011- 
rushing  herd.  His  only  hope  was  that  it  would  divide 
sufficiently  to  let  him  shoot  through.  But  the  cattle 
maintained  a  solid  front,  and  in  another  instant  the  col- 
lision came.  "Cracker"  Bob  was  projected  through  the 
air  as  though  hurled  from  a  catapult.  By  a  miracle  he 
escaped  the  wildly  tossing  horns,  alighted  on  a  shaggy 
back,  and  from  there  slipped  to  the  ground.  There  was 
a  minute  of  frantic  confusion  and  terrified  bellowing. 
Then  the  frightened  animals  turned  tail,  and  dashed  wildly 
away  in  the  direction  from  which  they  had  come. 

The  wheel  ridden  by  Billy  Barlow  being  provided  with 
a  rear-axle  band-brake,  the  best  and  most  powerful  yet 
devised,  he  was  able  to  check  his  speed  and  dismount 
without  difficulty  as  soon  as  he  discovered  the  necessity 
for  so  doing.  The  others  were  not  so  fortunate.  Will 
Kogers  also  had  a  rear-wheel  brake,  but  it  acted  directly 
against  the  tire,  and  throwing  his  weight  as  far  back  as 
possible,  he  applied  it  so  vigorously  that  while  it  checked 
his  speed  so  that  he  could  spring  safely  to  the  ground,  it 
also  tore  a  portion  of  the  tire  from  the  felloe.  Tom  Bur- 
gess's brake  was  of  an  old-fashioned  kind  acting  against 
the  tire  of  his  forward  wheel.  In  his  excitement  he  ap- 


DECEMBER  2S,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


155 


plied  it  without  his  usual  caution,  and  as  a  consequence 
was  treated  to  his  first  header  from  a  safety. 

Tom  was  too  g-lad  to  have  arrested  the  progress  of  las 
machine  at  any  cost  to  notice  a  trifle  like  that,  however, 
and  in  another  moment  three  frightened  faces  were  peer- 
ing anxiously  through  the  cloud  of  dust  left  by  the  flying 
cattle  in  search  of  their  comrade.  To  their  intense  relief 
they  found  him  sitting  in  the  middle  of  the  road  bewil- 
dered, bruised,  and  badly  shaken  up  by  his  recent  expe- 
rience, but  otherwise  uninjured. 

As  they  lifted  him  to  his  feet  and  brushed  away  the 
dust  and  felt  for  broken  bones,  he  gazed  about  him  in- 
quiringly. Finally  he  said,  "  I  suppose  the  old  wheel  is 
pretty  badly  broken  up,  but  it  would  be  some  satisfaction 
to  see  the  pieces." 

"That's  so!"  exclaimed  Will  Rogers,  as  he  and  the 
others  looked  about  them.  "There  isn't  a  sign  of  your 
bicycle.  What  can  have  become  of  it?" 

Just  then  the  boys  were  joined  by  a  man — red  faced, 
out  of  breath,  and  evidently  very  angry — who  came  from 
down  the  road.  Before  he  could  speak  "Cracker"  Bob 
eagerly  asked  him  if  he  had  seen  anything  of  a  bicycle 
running  away  down  the  hill. 

"  Bicycle!  Great  Scott!  I  should  say  I  had,"  cried  the 
man.  "  I  couldn't  make  out  what  it  was  the  old  bull 
had  got  all  tangled  up  on  his  horns,  but  now  that  you 
mention  it,  it  did  look  like  a  bicycle.  He  was  just  a 
ramping  and  a  tearing,  too,  I  can  tell  ye.  I  reckin  that's 
the  last  you'll  ever  see  of  it,  leastways  as  a  whole.  I  don't 
know  as  I'm  sorry  neither,  long's  you  appear  to  belong 
to  the  same  gang  as  him  who  did  all  this  mischief.'' 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir?"  demanded  Will  Rogers. 

"Just  what  I  say.  The  chap  that  let  them  cattle  out 
of  the  field  and  started  them  up  this  way  was  riding  a 
bicycle,  and  wore  one  of  them  same  thingembobs  on  his 
cap  that  you  fellers  do.  I'd  took  notice  of  the  cattle 
tearing  round  the  fleld  like  as  if  they'd  stirred  up  a  hor- 
net's nest  or  something,  and  was  hurrying  down  cross- 
lots  to  find  out  what  the  trouble  was.  'Fore  I  could  get 
to  'em  a  young  feller  came  along  on  a  bicycle.  When 
he  seen  the  cattle,  he  stopped  and  let  down  the  bars  lead- 
ing into  the  road.  I  hollered,  but  he  didn't  take  no  no- 
tice, only  just  stood  on  the  far  side  and  waved  his  arms 
so  as  to  head  the  cattle  up  this  way  when  they  run  out. 
The  minute  they  was  in  the  road  he  fired  off  a  couple  of 
pistol-shots,  and  they  set  off  licketty  split.  I  don't  know 
as  he  hit  any  one  of  them,  but  if  I  could  'a'  caught  him  I'd 
made  him  smart  for  shooting  at  'em.  I  got  pretty  close 
to  him,  but  he  seen  me  in  time  to  jump  onto  his  machine 
and  scoot.  'Long  as  there  warn't  no  use  in  following 
him,  I  took  after  the  cattle,  and  like  to  get  tramped  when 
they  wheeled  round.  Now  ef  there's  any  damage  done 
I'm  going  to  hold  you  fellers  responsible,  seeing  that  you 
and  him  appear  to  belong  to  the  same  gang." 

"And  if  you  are  the  owner  of  the  bull  that  has  run 
off  with  my  bicycle,  I  shall  hold  you  responsible  for  all 
damage  done  to  it,"  exclaimed  the  dismounted  rider  of  the 
tall  wheel,  hotly. 

"  Steady,  Bob.  steady !"  advised  the  naval  cadet.  "  Nei- 
ther you  nor  this  gentleman  is  responsible  for  the  dam- 
age done  to  the  other's  property.  It  all  rests  with  the 
fellow  who  has  been  playing  us  scurvy  tricks  ever  since 
we  started  on  this  trip,  and  now  I  mean  to  see  if  I  can't 
call  him  to  account  for  them.  How  far  is  it  to  the  next 
town,  sir?" 

"  What,  Easily  I  Oh,  a  couple  of  miles  or  so,"  answer- 
ed the  farmer. 

"Well,  that  chap  will  probably  stop  there  for  dinner, 
and  I  am  going  to  try  and  overtake  him,"  continued 
Billy  Barlow.  "Of  course  you  fellows  will  come  oil 
as  quick  as  you  can,  and  when  you  get  there  I  think 
I'll  have  some  news  for  you." 

Thus  saying,  and  without  waiting  for  a  discussion  of 


his  plan,  the  lad  from  Annapolis  sprang  into  the  saddle 
and  set  off  at  a  rattling  pace  down  the  road,  while  the 
others,  accompanied  by  the  farmer,  followed  on  foot  and 
discussed  the  situation. 

As  Billy  Barlow  sped  along  he  saw  several  fragments 
of  "  Cracker"  Bob's  bicycle  scattered  by  the  road  side,  and 
when  he  reached  the  fleld  from  which  the  cattle  had  come, 
and  to  which  they  had  retreated  on  their  return  flight, 
he  saw  the  big  wheel  itself  lying  on  the  ground,  broken 
and  twisted  beyond  all  hope  of  mending. 

The  young  wheelman  stopped  for  a  moment  to  lift  the 
bars  to  their  places,  and  then  hastened  on  to  the  little 
New  England  hill  town  of  Easily.  To  his  intense  disap- 
pointment, he  learned  that  the  unknown  rider  of  whom 
he  was  in  pursuit  had  lunched  there,  and  taken  his  de- 
parture in  the  direction  of  the  adjoining  town  of  Westly 
about  fifteen  minutes  before  his  arrival. 

CHAPTER     VIII. 
BILLY  BARLOW  MEETS  THE   MYSTERIOUS   RIDER. 

QUICKLY  deciding  upon  his  course  of  action,  Billy  Bar- 
low ordered  an  easily  disposed  of  and  at  the  same  time 
strengthening  lunch  of  a  quart  of  milk,  into  which  were 
broken  a  couple  of  raw  eggs,  and  in  a  few  minutes  was 
again  ready  to  take  up  the  pursuit.  He  was  no  longer 
so  sanguine  of  success  as  he  had  been,  for  he  now  knew 
that  the  unknown  rider  had  nearly  half  an  hour's  start 
of  him  over  a  hilly  road. 

"How  far  is  Westly?"  he  asked  of  the  landlord. 
'  'Tain'l  more  'n  eight  mile  by  railroad,  but  it's  nigh 
onto  twelve  by  the  pike,"  was  the  answer.  "You  see, 
when  the  railroad  was  built  through  here  they  managed 
to  get  a  right  of  way  along  the  old  stage  road  that  fol- 
lowed Black  Creek  right  down  the  valley  on  the  easiest 
grade  there  was.  So  you  see — 

"Excuse  me,"  interrupted  Billy  Barlow,  who  had 
been  scrawling  a  few  lines  on  a  sheet  of  paper  while  the 
other  talked.  "Will  you  kindly  hand  this  note  to  three 
wheelmen  who  will  be  along  here  shortly  inquiring  for 
me?  Thank  you.  Now  where  is  the  railroad  station?" 

A  minute  later  saw  him  at  the  little  station  at  the  foot 
of  the  hill  asking  questions  of  the  ticket-agent. 

"No,  there  won't  be  any  south-bound  train  stop  here 
before  six  o'clock  this  afternoon,"  said  that  individual. 
"But  where  are  you  fellows  going,  and  why  didn't  you 
travel  together?  There  was  another  of  your  crowd  in 
here  only  a  bit  ago  asking  about  trains.  He  seemed  as 
disappointed  as  you  do  when  he  found  there  wasn't  one 
till  evening,  and  wanted  to  know  if  he  couldn't  ride  down 
the  track  to  Westly." 

"That's  an  idea!"  exclaimed  Billy  Barlow.  "What 
did  you  tell  him?" 

"Told  him? — of  course  not,  that  it's  against  the  rules." 

"What  did  he  do  then?" 

"What  did  he  do?  Why,  went  back  and  took  the 
wagon  road,  of  course.  What  else  could  he  do?" 

"Well,  he  might  have  ridden  down  the  track,  for  one 
thing." 

"  He  might,  might  he?  After  I'd  forbidden  him?  I'd 
just  like  to  see  him  or  any  one  else  try  it  on." 

"  Very  well,"  replied  Billy  Barlow.      "  Look  at  me." 

Thus  saying,  and  to  carry  out  a  resolution  he  had  just 
formed,  the  naval  cadet  ran  from  the  station,  lifted  his 
wheel  across  one  set  of  rails,  vaulted  into  the  saddle,  and 
started  otf  down  the  smooth  but  narrow  cinder  path  be- 
tween the  double  tracks  of  the  railroad. 

"Hi,  there!  Come  back!"  shouted  the  astonished 
ticket-agent,  running,  breathless  and  bare-headed,  after 
him;  but  Billy  only  waved  his  hand  without  looking 
back,  and  in  another  minute  was  lost  to  view. 

Never  before  had  the  young  wheelman  found  him- 
self in  a  situation  so  full  of  exhilarating  thrill  and  keen 


156 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


excitement.  With  a  down  grade  and  a  strong  wind, 
he  flew  along  at  such  speed  that  it  didn't  seem  as  though 
even  a  limited  express  could  overtake  him.  At  any 
rate,  lie  outstripped  the  clouds  of  dry  leaves  whirled  on- 
ward by  the  «ale  that  raced  with  him  over  the  forbidden 
ground.  There  was  such  a  roar  of  waters  from  the  mad 
stream  tumbling  and  foaming  beside  him  that  lie  won- 
dered if  it  would  not  drown  even  the  sound  of  an  ap- 
proaching train.  He  sincerely  hoped  not,  for  although 
he  was  not  riding  directly  on  either  track,  he  was  so  very 
close  to  both  that  he  knew  he  would  be  in  a  most  danger- 
ous position  should  a  train  overtake  him  unawares.  The 
many  sharp  curves  of  the  road  proved  a  source  of  con- 
stant anxiety;  but  they  were  as  nothing  compared  with 
the  equally  numerous  bridges  by  which  Black  Creek  was 
crossed  and  re-crossed.  Over  these  he  not  only  had  to 
walk  directly  on  one  or  the  other  of  the  tracks,  and  push 
his  bicycle  bumping  on  the  ties,  but  he  must  carefully 
watch  and  place  every  footstep  as  well.  "  If  the  bridges 
were  only  decked  and  there  were  no  trains  to  fear,  what 
a  glorious  ride  it  would  be!" 

While  thus  reflecting,  the  lad  dashed  into  a  deep  rock 
out.  the  farther  end  of  which  was  lost  behind  a  curve. 
It  was  a  forbidding  place,  and  he  was  pedalling  with  re- 
doubled vigor,  that  he  might  pass  through  the  more 
quickly,  when  suddenly  there  came  to  his  ears  the  whis- 
tle of  an  approaching  train  from  down  the  road.  To  his 
dismay,  it  was  instantly  answered,  almost  like  an  echo, 
by  another  close  behind  him.  Two  trains  were  about  to 
pass  in  that  cut,  and  even  Billy  Barlow's  stout  heart  sank 
like  lead  as  he  gazed  on  the  space  he  must  occupy  while 
they  did  so.  It  seemed  to  have  contracted  to  half  its 
former  narrow  width,  and  like  a  flash  he  realized  how  far 
the  sides  of  cars  project  beyond  their  trucks.  He  took 
but  an  instant  for  reflection.  Then  he  sprang  from  his 
wheel,  and  threw  himself  flat  on  the  ground  beside  it, 
face  downward,  between  the  tracks. 

When,  a  couple  of  minutes  later,  the  young  wheelman 
slowly  picked  himself  up,  the  thunder  of  the  on-rushing 
masses  that  had  seemed  to  crush  and  stun  him  was  dying 
away  in  distant  rumblings,  and  the  sickening  vibrations 
of  the  earth  had  ceased;  but  liis  brain  was  in  a  whirl;  he 
could  hardly  breathe  or  see  for  the  swirling  clouds  of 
smoke  and  dust  that  filled  the  cut;  and  with  that  single 
experience  all  the  pleasure  to  be  derived  by  him  from  bi- 
cycling on  a  railway  had  departed.  His  sole  ambition 
for  the  moment  was  to  escape  from  a  place  haunted  by 
fire-breathing  monsters  more  terrible  in  aspect  than 
Eastern  genii,  and  he  watched  eagerly  for  the  fivst  cross- 
roads as  he  again  flew  on  down  the  track.  There  was 
none,  however,  until  at  length  he  came  in  sight  of  a 
pretty  station  marked  "  Westly,"  and  knew  that  his  per- 
ilous undertaking  was  ended.  As  he  left  the  railway 
and  turned  up  a  street  that  seemed  to  lead  into  the  town 
an  excited-looking  individual  appeared  on  the  station 
platform  and  shouted  after  him. 

"  Hi,  there!     Come  back  here  !" 

Billy  Barlow  smiled  at  the  familiar  hail,  but  having 
no  further  railroad  business  to  transact  just  then,  he  only 
waved  his  hand  as  before,  without,  looking  back,  and  rode 
on  up  the  street.  Now,  for  the  first  time  since  his  ex- 
perience in  the  rock  cut,  he  bftlioun-ht  himself  of  the 
business  that  had  brought  him  to  Westly  in  such  haste. 
and  began  to  watch  for  sonic  one  who  would  put  him  on 
tin'  road  to  Eastly.  His  plan  was  to  ride  out  on  this 
road  until  he  should  meet  a  strange  wheelman  wearing 
a  Ranger  badge,  and  after  thai  to  lie  guided  by  circum- 
stances. While  thus  thinking,  he  spied  an  elderly  gen- 
tleman walking  briskly  along  llic  .sidewalk  in  the  same 
direction  he  was  taking,  and  riding  up  close  beside  him. 
he  said, 

"Excuse  me,  sir,  but  will  you  kindly — 

The  old   gentleman   fa I    .-harply   about  at  the  first 


word,  and  with  a  startled  glance  at  his  features,  the  lad 
from  Annapolis  sprang  to  the  ground,  and  stood  in  the 
rigid  attitude  of  attention  with  a  hand  raised  to  his  cap 
in  salute. 

"Eh?  what's  this?  Who  are  you,  sir?"  exclaimed  the 
old  gentleman  sharply. 

"William  Barlow,  sir,  naval  cadet  and  second-class- 
man at  Annapolis,"  was  the  answer. 

"  What?"  cried  the  old  gentleman,  extending  his  hand, 
while  a  genial  smile  lighted  his  weather-beaten  features. 
"  Can  it  be  Billy  Patch?  Why,  lad,  I  never  should  have 
recognized  you!  But  what  are  you  doing  here  in  this 
rig?" 

"I'm  a  Road  Ranger  at  present,  sir,  but  am  on  my 
way  back  to  the  Academy,  and  was  just  going  to  ask 
you  the  road  to  Eastly." 

"Eastly!  Why,  that  lies  in  the  wrong  direction  for 
you !" 

"Yes;  sir,  I  know;  but  I  have  some  business— I  mean 
I  want  to  meet  another  wheelman  on  that  road,  and  then 
I  was  coming  back  here  to  spend  the  night." 

''  Of  course — of  course!  You'll  come  back  and  spend  it 
at  my  house,  and  bring  your  friend  with  you,  for  any 
friend  of  a  young  sea-dog  like  you  is  welcome  to  the  hos- 
pitality of  an  old  sea-dog  like  me." 

"  He  isn't  exactly  a  friend,  sir.      In  fact — 

"No  matter;  bring  him  along  anyway.'' 

"But,  sir,  I  expect  three  other  Road  Rangers  by  the 
evening  train,  so  you  see — 

"  Bring  'em  all  along.  The  more  the  merrier.  There 
are  two  or  three  young  folks  staying  with  us  now,  but 
we  can't  have  too  many.  The  house  answers  to  the 
hail  of  '  The  Ship,'  and  its  stands  on  '  Quarter-deck  Hill.' 
Any  one  will  give  you  the  bearings.  Now  I  must  leave 
you,  as  I  have  an  engagement  to  keep,  but  don't  fail  to 
report  with  your  friends  before  six  bells,  which  is  dinner- 
time." 

"  Thank  you,  sir.  I  won't  fail  to  be  011  time,"  answered 
"  Billy  Patch."  with  another  salute  to  the  Admiral,  who 
was  now  retired,  but  who  had  been  Superintendent  of 
the  Naval  Academy  during  the  young  Ranger's  first  year 
at  Annapolis. 

When  the  naval  cadet  had  ridden  nearly  two  miles 
without  seeing  a  sign  of  a  wheelman,  and  was  beginning 
to  think  that  he  had  entered  upon  a  wild-goose  chase,  he 
came  to  a  district  school-house.  Before  it  stood  a  tall 
flag-pole,  from  which  floated  an  American  flag,  not  ex- 
actly at  half-mast,  but  still  some  feet  below  the  mast- 
head. He  had  been  much  interested  in  seeing  flags  over 
the  various  school-houses  they  had  passed,  and  provoked 
to  note  how  carelessly  some  of  them  were  hoisted,  but 
had  never  thought  of  stopping  to  inquire  into  its  cause. 
Now  he  only  wondered  whether  this  one  were  half-masted 
through  ignorance  or  on  purpose,  and  was  about  to  pass 
on  when  all  at  once  his  attention  was  arrested  by  a  ring- 
ing cheer  from  inside  the  school -house.  At  the  same 
time  he  noticed  a  very  dusty  bicycle  leaning  against  the 
flag-pole. 

The  lad's  curiosity  was  so  aroused  by  these  things  that 
he  was  tempted  to  take  advantage  of  a  clump  of  shrub- 
bery close  by  an  open  window  to  glance  inside  and  see 
what  was  going  oil.  It  was  evident  that  some  one  was 
addressing  the  scholars  from  the  teacher's  platform,  but 
when  Billy  Barlow  finally  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  speak- 
er's face  he  very  nearly  uttered  a  cry  of  astonishment. 
It  was  Roddy  Oiihleback  clad  ill  bicycle  costume,  and  he 
was  saying  to  the  attentive  boys  and  girls  before  him: 

"  My  father  lost  an  arm  fighting  for  that  flag,  and  he 
has  taught  me  to  love  it  more  than  anything  else  on 
earl  h.  Half-masted  it  means  sorrow  or  distress;  but  you 
say  you  didn't  know  this,  and  that  your  flag  only  hap- 
pens to  be  in  that  position  through  carelessness.  So  now 
I  want  you  all  to  come  outside  with  me,  run  the  dear  old 


DECEM13EK  26,  1394. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


157 


flag  up  to  the  mast-head, 
where  it  belongs,  give  it 
three  rousing  cheers,  and 
promise  me  to  treat  it 
with  loving  respect  in 
tho  future." 

Another  approving 
shout  greeted  these 
words,  and  then,  as  the 
whole  school,  including 
the  teacher,  started  for 
the  door,  Billy  Barlow 
sprang  on  his  wheel  and 
rode  swiftly  back  by  the 
way  he  had  just  come. 
At  the  end  of  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  he  dismounted 
and  waited.  A  few  mo- 
ments later  Reddy  Cudde- 
back  came  dashing  along 
as  though  anxious  to 
make  up  for  lost  time. 
The  waiting  wheelman 
set  his  bicycle  so  squarely 
across  the  middle  of  the 
road  that,  to  avoid  crash- 
ing into  it  and  taking  a 
header,  the  on  -  coming 
rider  was  obliged  to 
spring  to  the  ground. 

"  What  do  you  mean 
by  stopping  me  this 
way?"  he  demanded,  with 
an  angry  flash  of  the 
eyes  as  he  recognized  the 
individual  who  thus  dared 
to  interfere  with  his  pro- 
gress. 

"  I  mean  that  I  want  to 
talk  with  you,  and  I  was 
afraid  you  wouldn't  stop 
unless  I  compelled  you 
to,"  replied  Billy  Barlow. 

"No  more  I  wouldn't.  And  now  if  you  don't  get  out 
of  my  way  I'll  make  you  one  of  the  sorriest  chaps  in  this 
county,"  cried  Reddy  Cuddeback,  fiercely,  at  the  same 
time  dropping  his  wheel  and  advancing  with  clinched 
fists. 

"  I  guess  not,"  retorted  the  other,  quietly,  at  the  same 
time  laying  down  his  own  wheel  and  throwing  himself 
into  an  attitude  of  defence.  He  was  very  much  lighter 
in  weight  than  the  aggressive-looking  fellow  who  was 
advancing  so  confidently  to  thi-ash  him,  as  well  as  a  year 
or  so  younger;  but,  for  all  that,  he  did  not  feel  particu- 
larly anxious  regarding  the  result  of  the  coming  encoun- 
ter. Boxing  was  one  of  the  things  very  thoroughly 
taught  at  the  Academy,  and  Billy  Patch  had  not  been 
backward  in  profiting  by  his  lessons. 

CHAPTER     IX. 
A   FIGHT    AND   ITS   RESULTS. 

WHILE  Billy  Barlow,  fresh  from  the  scientific  training 
of  the  Annapolis  gymnasium,  was  confident  of  an  ability 
to  hold  his  own  in  the  coming  struggle,  Reddy  Cudde- 
back was  no  less  so.  He  believed  success  in  an  encoun- 
ter of  this  kind  to  be  wholly  a  matter  of  pluck  and  strength, 
both  of  which  he  possessed.  He  rejoiced,  therefore,  over 
the  present  opportunity  for  proving  his  physical  supe- 
riority over  a  member  of  the  band  admission  to  which 
had  been  denied  him.  id  was  particularly  pleased  that  it 
should  be  that  one  of  whom  he  had  manifested  his  intense 
jealousy  by  calling  him  a  "  government  pauper."  At  the 


A    MINUTE    LATER    THEY    SAW    A    SIGHT    THAT    THRILLED    THEM    WITH    EXCITEMENT. 


same  time  he  was  anxious  to  terminate  the  affair  as  speed- 
ily as  possible,  and  before  the  arrival  of  the  other  Rang- 
ers, whom  he  fancied  must  be  in  that  vicinity.  He  there- 
fore determined  to  annihilate  his  slender  antagonist  by 
a  single  effort,  and  made  a  furious  rush  at  him  for  that 
purpose.  The  next  instant  he  lay  at  full  length  on  the 
ground,  wondering  what  had  happened.  His  head  felt 
queer.  He  must  have  stumbled  and  struck  it  in  falling. 
That  other  fellow  could  not  have  knocked  him  down,  of 
course,  or  else  he  would  now  be  pounding  him.  Yes,  it 
must  have  been  an  accident,  and  he  must  be  more  careful. 

Scrambling  to  his  feet,  he  made  another  determined 
though  somewhat  more  cautious  advance  upon  his  wait- 
ing opponent;  but  in  less  than  a  minute  the  result  was 
the  same  as  before.  This  time  Reddy  knew  he  had 
been  knocked  down,  and  the  knowledge  made  him  fu- 
rious. There  must  be  some  mistake  about  it,  though,  and 
the  other  fellow  must  be  afraid  of  him,  or  else  why  did 
he  not  follow  up  his  advantage,  as  he  himself  would  have 
done  in  a  similar  position. 

His  third  attack  upon  the  naval  cadet  who  so  quietly 
awaited  the  onset  was  made  with  such  caution  that  he 
held  his  ground  for  a  full  minute.  Though  he  did  not  in 
that  time  succeed  in  planting  a  single  effective  blow,  lie 
was  feeling  a  restored  confidence  in  his  ability  to  do  so. 
Suddenly  another  of  those  terrible  left-handers  fhifh^l 
out,  and  with  a  wild  clutching  of  the  air  he  again  mea- 
sured his  length  in  the  dusty  road.  As  the  big-  fellow 
slowly  sat  up  and  ruefully  rubbed  his  aching  head  he  re- 
alized that  he  was  fairly  whipped,  and  at  the  same  time 


158 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


conceived  a  vast  respect  for  the  chap  who  had  so  skilfully 
performed  the  task. 

"  Well,  Reddy,"  asked  Billy  Barlow,  cheerfully,  as  the 
former  made  no  motion  to  rise  or  continue  the  fight, 
"  have  you  had  enough?" 

"Yes,"  replied  the  humbled  lad,  moodily,  "I've  had 
enough.  You've  licked  me,  and  I  only  wish  I  knew  how 
you  did  it.  What  do  you  want  of  me  now?" 

"I  want  you  to  get  up  and  shake  hands  and  make 
friends  with  me,"  answered  the  naval  cadet,  at  the  same 
time  assisting  the  other  to  rise. 

"  You  want  to  make  friends  with  me  ?"  repeated  Reddy, 
slowly  and  incredulously,  as  he  regained  his  feet. 

"That's  what  I  said,  and  that's  what  I  mean,"  replied 
Billy.  "  I  wouldn't  have  said  it  fifteen  minutes  ago,  be- 
cause then  I  hadn't  heard  you  speak  up  for  the  old  flag 
in  the  splendid  way  you  did  back  there  in  that  school- 
house.  Since  hearing  that  I  have  changed  my  opinion 
of  you,  and  now  I  want  you  for  one  of  my  friends." 

"How  did  you  know  anything  about  that?"  asked 
Reddy,  wonderingly,  and  with  a  very  sudden  change  of 
feeling  toward  his  late  antagonist,  while  a  flush  of  grati- 
fied pride  tinged  his  cheeks. 

"Oh,  I  was  there,"  laughed  Billy  Barlow;  "and  just 
as  you  came  out  of  the  school-house  I  rode  on  so  as  to 
meet  you  here  where  no  one  should  see  us." 

"  Well,  I  didn't  suppose  any  one  who  knew  me  was 
anywhere  near,  or  I  expect  I  shouldn't  have  done  what 
I  did.  I  do  love  'Old  Glory'  though,  as  any  fellow 
would  who  could  hear  my  father  talk  about  it,  and  I 
can't  bear  to  see  it  treated  anyway  but  just  right.  I  say, 
though,  you  must  be  a  '  scorcher '  to  have  overtaken  me, 
for  you  fellows  weren't  anywhere  in  sight  when  I  left 
Eastly,  and  though  the  road  has  been  hilly  I  haven't  rid- 
den slowly,  I  can  tell  you." 

"  I  didn't  come  by  the  road,  for  I  knew  I  should  never 
catch  you  that  way,"  rejoined  Billy;  "I  rode  down  the 
track." 

"How  did  you  manage  that?  I  wanted  to,  but  they 
wouldn't  let  me." 

"They  wouldn't  let  me,  either,"  laughed  the  cadet; 
"  but  as  it  was  a  case  of  necessity,  I  just  took  the  matter 
into  my  own  hands.  I  wouldn't  do  it  again  for  a  good 
deal,  though,"  he  added,  soberly,  as  he  recalled  his  experi- 
ence in  the  rock  cut. 

During  this  conversation  the  two  had  been  riding  to- 
gether toward  Westly,  and  rapidly  cementing  the  friend- 
ship so  strangely  begun.  All  at  once  Billy  Barlow  no- 
ticed the  Ranger  badge  attached  to  his  companion's  cap, 
and  asked  him  where  he  got  it. 

"Picked  it  up  on  the  road  in  Berks,"  was  the  some- 
what hesitating  reply;  "and  it  was  what  gave  me  the 
idea  of  bothering  you  fellows.  I  found  out  afterwards 
that  it  belonged  to  Cal  Moody,  and  now  that  I  am 
through  with  it,  would  you  mind  getting  it  back  to  him 
somehow  so  that  he  won't  know  who  has  had  it?" 

"All  right,"  answered  Billy  Barlow;  "I  think  I  can 
manage  it.  But  what  are  you  going  to  do  now?  If  you 
are  bound  for  New  York  you  will  ride  along  with  us, 
won't  you?" 

"I  don't  know,"  hesitated  Reddy.  "I'm  bound  for 
New  York  fast  enough;  but  I  think  perhaps  I'd  better 
go  on  from  here  by  train."  Then,  more  abruptly,  and 
evidently  with  an  effort,  he  added:  "  Look  here.  Barlow, 
the  fact  is  that  I  don't  want  to  meet  those  other  fellows 
just  yet,  after  all  the  meanness  I've  done.  I  don't  believe 
they'd  take  it  the  way  you  have,  and  if  it  could  be  kept 
from  them,  for  a  while,  anyway,  I'd  be  awfully  glad. 
Don't  you  suppose  you  could  fix  it  that  way?  I  give  you 
my  word  not  to  make  any  more  trouble,  for  I'll  take  the 
first  train  south  and  get  out  of  your  road.  There  she 
whistles  now,  and  I  must  hurry  to  catch  her.  You'll  do 
that  much  for  me,  won't  you?  You  said  we  were  to  be 


friends,  you  know,  and  I'm  sure  you'd  do  that  much  for 
a  friend." 

The  lad's  voice  was  so  pleading  as  he  made  this  re- 
quest that  Billy  Barlow  could  not  help  but  agree  to  do 
his  best  not  to  mention  the  occurrences  of  the  last  hour 
to  the  other  Rangers,  but  he  would  make  no  promise,  for, 
of  course,  he  must  answer  their  questions  truthfully. 

When  they  reached  the  Westly  station  the  train  was 
already  there,  and  the  cadet  undertook  to  get  Reddy's 
bicycle  into  the  baggage-car  while  the  latter  procured 
his  ticket.  The  platform  was  unusually  crowded,  and 
there  were  several  other  bicycles  to  go,  so  that  for  a  few 
minutes  Billy  Barlow  was  kept  too  busy  to  notice  any 
one  or  anything  beyond  his  immediate  surroundings. 
Reddy  came  running  up  with  his  ticket  barely  in  time  to 
claim  his  bicycle  as  the  train  started.  The  two  lads  who 
had  fought  each  other  less  than  an  hour  before  parted 
with  a  warm  hand-clasp,  and  then  one  of  them  was  left 
gazing  after  the  retreating  train.  To  his  amazement,  as 
the  last  car  whisked  by,  he  saw  "  Cracker"  Bob  Jones  on 
the  rear  platform  shouting  and  waving  his  cap.  Answer- 
ing cap-wavings  came  from  somewhere  in  the  crowd, 
and,  guided  by  these,  Billy  was  enabled  a  moment  later 
to  gladden  by  his  unexpected  presence  the  eyes  of  Will 
Rogers  and  Tom  Burgess,  who  were  just  beginning  to 
wonder  where  they  should  find  him, 

"Hello,  old  man!  how  did  you  get  here  so  quickly?" 
and  "Where  did  you  fellows  come  from?"  were  questions 
that  the  cadet  answered  by  explaining  that  he  had  taken 
a  short  cut  and  ridden  down  the  track;  while  Will 
Rogers  said  that  as  the  big  bicycle  wasn't  worth  picking 
up,  and  his  own  was  in  need  of  repairs,  they  had  decided 
to  come  that  far  by  train  and  send  Bob  right  on  to  New 
York  with  a  note  of  introduction  to  Mr.  Burgess. 

As  the  others  began  to  ply  Billy  Barlow  with  further 
questions,  he  evaded  answering  by  saying:  "  I'll  tell  you 
all  about  it  afterwards,  but  now  we  must  look  up  the 
house  of  a  dear  old  friend  whom  I  met  here  awhile  ago, 
and  with  whom  we  are  to  spend  the  night.  We  are  all 
invited,  and  "Cracker"  Bob  too,  and  I  can  tell  you  it's 
an  honor —  Why,  there  he  is  now !" 

Again  the  naval  cadet  stood  rigid,  with  his  hand  raised 
in  salute  to  a  handsome  old  gentleman  who  carne  briskly 
toward  the  boys  at  that  moment. 

"Hello,  Barlow!"  he  cried,  at  the  same  time  courte- 
ously acknowledging  the  salute.  "So  you  are  here. 
And  these,  I  suppose,  are  the  friends  whom  I  am  to  have 
the  pleasure  of  entertaining.  Glad  to  meet  you,  young 
gentlemen.  Rogers,  yes,  and  Burgess.  I'll  try  to  re- 
member, though  I  never  do.  But  come  along,  and  we'll 
all  ride  up  in  the  carriage.  The  girls  are  waiting  in  it. 
Came  down  to  see  one  of  their  friends  off,  you  know,  and 
so  everything  happens  just  right." 

As  he  started  off  without  giving  the  boys  a  chance  to 
reply  they  were  obliged  to  follow  him  to  the  waiting 
carriage,  in  which  were  seated  two  as  pretty  girls  as  they 
had  ever  seen. 

"Margaret,  my  dear,  and  Helen,"  cried  the  old  gentle- 
man, "these  are  the  young  friends  of  whom  I  spoke. 
Mr.  Patch,  I  believe,  you  have  met,  and  the  others  are 
Mr.  Ranger  and  Mr.  Bar —  Oh,  hang  it!  I  expect  I 
am  making  a  mess  of  it,  as  usual.  Billy,  square  the  yards 
and  overhaul  the  running  rigging  for  me,  like  a  good 
fellow!  And,  by -the -way,  where  are  the  others?  I 
thought  there  were  more  of  you." 

"  The  others  were  obliged  to  go  to  New  York  by  train, 
sir,"  answered  the  cadet,  after  he  had  introduced  Will 
and  Tom  in  due  form  to  the  young  ladies,  and  his  com- 
panions thought  how  clever  it  was  of  him  to  speak  of  the 
"others,"  as  though  there  really  were  two,  instead  of  at- 
tempting to  set  the  old  gentleman  right  on  a  matter  of  so 
trifling  importance. 

Then  Billy  Barlow  explained  that  as  lie  and  his  friends 


DECEMBER  25,  1894. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


159 


had  their  bicycles  along,  it  might  be  better  for  them  to 
ride  their  own  wheels  than  to  accept  the  invitation  for 
the  carriage. 

"Of   course,    if  you    can!"   cried   the  old  gentleman. 

"How  remarkably  stupid  of  me  to  forget!     It  must  take 

, wonderful  nerve  to  navigate  them,  though.      It  takes  all 

mine  to  trust  myself  to  a  carriage;    but  then   I  always 

was  more  or  less  of  a  coward." 

"  Who  is  he?"  asked  Will  Rogers  as  Billy  Barlow  and 
his  two  thoroughly  bewildered  friends  followed  the  car- 
riage on  their  wheels. 

"What!  Don't  you  know?"  exclaimed  the  naval  ca- 
det. "Why,  it's  Admiral  Marlin,  who  was  my  com- 
mandant at  Annapolis." 

"  Not  the  hero  of — 

"  Yes,  the  very  same." 

It  nearly  took  their  breath  away  to  discover  into  what 
distinguished  company  they  had  fallen,  and  they  won- 
dered how  they  should  ever  survive  a  whole  evening  of 
it,  especially  as  they  had  only  their  bicycle  suits  to  wear. 

In  spite  of  this  anxiety  their  fears  proved  groundless, 
as  is  always  the  case  where  both  hosts  and  guests  are 
of  gentle  breeding. 

Late  that  evening,  after  all  the  others  had  said  "  Good- 
night," Billy  Barlow,  who  had  begged  fora  few  moments 
of  conversation  with  his  host,  told  him  the  whole  story 
of  Reddy  Cuddeback,  and  asked  his  advice  as  to  how  the 
Bangers  should  treat  him  in  the  future. 

"Take  him  into  your  company  and  make  a  friend  of 
ill  im,"  declared  the  Admiral,  emphatically.  "Any  fellow 
•who  will  stand  up  as  he  did  for  the  old  flag  is  worth  cul- 
tivating. Why,  one  of  the  very  worst  men  I  ever  had  oil 
board  ship  resisted  every  effort  to  reform  him  until,  at 
length,  I  tried  the  effect  of  promotion.  I  made  him  a 
petty  officer,  and  put  him  on  honor  to  set  his  shipmates 
a  good  example.  The  result  was  astonishing.  He  not 
only  became  steady  and  a  credit  to  the  ship,  but  he  proved 
one  of  the  bravest  fellows  I  ever  saw.  Jumped  over- 
board once  in  a  storm  of  bullets  to  recover  the  ensign 
that  had  been  shot  away,  and  was  in  danger  of  drifting 
into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  Another  time  he  sprang 
forward  and  caught  on  his  own  arm  a  cutlass  aimed  at 
my  head." 

"So  he  saved  your  life,  sir!"  exclaimed  Billy. 

"Yes,  and  lost  his  arm  in  doing  it.  He  was  sent  to 
hospital.  We  were  ordered  to  another  station,  and  I  never 
•could  get  track  of  him  again.  Poor  Reddy!  I  wonder 
what  became  of  him." 

"Did  you  say  his  name  was  Reddy,  sir?"  broke  in  the 
•cadet. 

"Yes;  Redmond  Cuddeback,  though  the  men  called 
Jiiin  'Reddy, 'and — 

"I  beg  pardon,  sir,"  interrupted  Billy,  excitedly,  "liut 
•that  is  the  name  of  the  very  fellow  I've  just  told  you 
.about — Reddy  Cuddeback — and  his  father  lost  an  arm 
fighting  for  the  old  flag.  He  told  me  so  himself." 

As  a  result  of  this  conversation  the  Admiral  declared 
Jhis  intention  of  visiting  Berks  not  only  to  hunt  up  the 
man  to  whom  he  owed  his  life,  but  with  a  view  to  estab- 
lishing there  his  permanent  summer  home,  the  house  he 
was  then  occupying  being  only  rented  for  the  season.  "  I 
have  heard  of  the  place  as  being  desirable  in  every  re- 
spect except  for  the  condition  of  its  roads,"  he  said ;  "  and 
since  you  young  Rangers  have  undertaken  to  improve 
those,  I  have  no  doubt  that  objection  will  speedily  be  re- 
moved." 

CHAPTER     X. 
BERKS   WINS    THE   FIVE-MILE    RACE. 

So  thoroughly  were  the  thoughts  of  Will  Rogers  and 
'Tom  Burgess  diverted  by  their  memorable  visit  to  "The 
Ship,'* that  it  was  not  until  it  was  over  and  they  were 
again  on  the  road  to  New  York  that  they  asked  Billy 


Barlow  what  he  had  discovered  concerning  the  unknown 
rider  who  had  made  the  earlier  portion  of  their  trip  so 
uncomfortable. 

The  cadet  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  deciding  it  to 
be  the  best  thing  to  do,  told  his  companions  everything 
he  had  learned  during  the  past  twenty-four  hours  about 
Reddy  Cuddeback  and  his  father. 

"Billy  Barlow,  you're  a  brick !"  exclaimed  Will  Rogers, 
"and  if  you  didn't  have  to  go  back  to  Annapolis,  I  should 
insist  on  resigning  in  your  favor.  As  it  is,  I  am  going 
to  follow  your  example,  and  ask  Reddy  Cuddeback  to 
shake  hands  with  me  the  very  lirst  time  I  meet  him." 

"So  shall  I,"  assented  Tom  Burgess,  heartily. 

They  made  a  fine  though  uneventful  run  of  over  sixty 
miles  that  day,  and  nightfall  found  them  lodged  in  a 
hospitable  farm-house  on  the  edge  of  the  broad  Hudson 
Valley.  On  the  next  day,  just  as  they  came  in  sight  of 
the  glorious  river,  and  were  about  to  turn  into  the  old 
post  road  that  connects  the  capital  of  the  Empire  State 
with  its  metropolis,  Billy  Barlow  suddenly  exclaimed: 

"Hello!  If  that's  not  a  bugle,  then  I'm  mistaken." 
•  Again  they  heard  the  clear,  ringing  notes,  and  a  minute 
later  they  saw  coming  down  the  post  road  a  sight  that 
thrilled  them  with  excitement.  It  was  a  company  of 
'cycle  militia,  fifty  strong,  on  its  way  to  New  York  to  take 
part  in  the  great  L.  A.  W.  parade.  As  it  swept  by  in  col- 
umn of  twos,  the  Captain,  followed  closely  by  a  bugler 
and  an  orderly,  in  advance,  the  Lieutenants  heading  their 
respective  platoons,  sergeants  and  corporals  in  their 
places,  and  guidons  snapping  in  the  breeze,  even  Billy 
Barlow  was  forced  to  admit  that  he  had  never  seen  a 
more  soldierly  appearing  lot  of  fellows,  while  Will  Rogers 
and  Tom  Burgess  were  wild  with  enthusiasm  over  this 
new  phase  of  bicycling.  The  uniforms  were  those  of  the 
L.A.W.,  each  machine  bore  a  knapsack  in  the  open  space 
of  its  frame,  a  gleaming  rifle  was  attached  to  its  back- 
bone, and  to  every  handle -bar  was  strapped  a  tightly 
rolled  blanket  enveloped  in  a  rubber  sheet.  The  rear  of 
the  column  was  brought  up  by  a  light  mess  wagon  hav- 
ing bicycle  wheels  and  bearings,  that  was  at  the  same 
time  an  ambulance.  It  was  propelled  by  electricity  from 
a  storage  battery,  though  it  was  so  arranged  that  horses 
could  be  attached  in  a  moment  if  necessary. 

Filled  with  delighted  wonder,  our  Rangers  fell  in  be- 
hind this  little  army  of  modern  cavalry,  and  followed  it 
over  the  superb  stretch  of  road  connecting  Staatsburg 
with  Poughkeepsie.  There  they  all  dined  in  the  same 
hotel,  and  the  Berks  boys  scraped  an  acquaintance  with 
the  officers  of  the  company,  who,  when  they  discovered 
Billy  Barlow  to  be  a  naval  cadet,  cordially  invited  them 
to  share  their  camp  at  West  Point  that  night. 

What  a  fine  run  they  made  down  the  river  road  in 
company  with  these  newly  made  friends  that  afternoon! 
What  a  glorious  time  they  had  at  West  Point,  where,  as 
the  wheel  militia  spent  the  night  by  invitation,  they 
found  every  preparation  made  for  their  reception  !  What 
a  revelation  of  utility  and  comfort  was  the  camp  of  the 
bicycle  soldiers,  in  which  two  rubber  sheets  drawn  taut 
over  two  stacked  wheels  formed  a  shelter  that  protected 
both  the  steeds  and  their  riders.  In  these  tents,  no  mat- 
ter what  the  weather  might  be,  each  mess  of  two  men 
could  speedily  prepare  hot  coffee,  and  fry  a  pan  of  bacon 
to  eat  with  their  hardtack,  over  the  little  spirit-lamp  that 
formed  part  of  the  equipment  of  every  'cycle. 

"We'll  have  a  company  that  will  do  as  well  as  that 
by  a  year  from  now,"  Will  Rogers  remarked  to  Tom 
Burgess.  "  If  you  can  only  come  back  to  Berks  for  next 
summer  you  shall  be  second  lieutenant,  and  Cal  Moody 
shall  be  bugler,  because  he  can  play  pretty  well  on  a 
mouth-organ  already.  As  for  sergeants,  wre'll  make  them 
out  of  the  fellows  who  earn  their  wheels  the  quickest." 

The  next  day  they  reached  New  York  city  at  the  top 
of  the  beautiful  Riverside  Drive.  From  here  our  three 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


riders,  guided  by  Tom  Burgess,  who  appeared  to  be  in  a 
state  of  unusual  excitement,  took  one  of  the  cross  streets 
leading  to  \Vcst  Km!  Avenue.  As  they  turned  down 
thai  superb  thoroughfare,  with  its  asphalt  pavement  and 
handsome  dwellings,  Will  Rogers  exclaimed: 

"Hello!  if  there  isn't  another  bicycle  company  com- 
ing this  wav  !  How  is  it,  Tom;  are  all  New  York  wheel- 
men members  of  the  militia?"' 

But  Tom  Burgess  was  too  busy  waving  his  handker- 
chief just  at  that  moment  to  answer,  and  "Will  wondered 
what  it  was  for.  The  on-coming  wheelmen  were  in  uni- 
form, were  riding  in  military  order,  and  above  their  ranks 
fluttered  a  silken  guidon.  Suddenly,  at  a  sharp  note  of 
command  from  a  bicycle  whistle,  the  approaching  squad 
halted  and  dismounted.  At  another  the  machines  were 
wheeled  about  so  as  to  face  the  middle  of  the  road,  and 
each  rider  stood  at  "attention"  beside  his  wheel,  with  one 
ha:;d  resting  on  its  saddle  and  the  other  raised  in  a  mili- 
tary salute. 

Two  of  the  dusty  sun-browned  riders  in  whose  honor 
this  movement  appeared  to  be  executed  were  completely 
bewildered  by  it,  while  the  face  of  the  third  expressed 
gratification  but  no  trace  of  surprise.  All  at  once  Will 
Rogers  gave  a  cry  of  delighted  amazement  and  sprang 
from  his  wheel.  He  had  just  recognized  the  device  em- 
blazoned on  the  silken  flag  that  fluttered  above  the  heads 
of  the  motionless  wheelmen.  It  was  the  same  as  that  on 
his  own  cap.  The  next  moment  the  quiet  of  the  street 
was  broken  by  the  ringing  cheer  of  the  Berks  Road 
Rangers.  Then  at  Lieutenant  Hal  Bacon's  command  of 
"Break  ranks !  March .'"  the  alignment  was  broken,  and 
with  a  shout  of  welcome,  the  Rangers  rushed  forward  to 
greet  their  captain. 

They  were  all  there — Gal  Moody  proudly  waving  the 
badge  that  had  been  so  mysteriously  restored  to  him  by 
mail  just  as  they  were  leaving  Berks,  Mif  Bowers,  Abe 
Cruger,  Si  Carew,  Sam  Ray,  and  the  rest  to  the  number  of 
an  even  dozen.  Even  "Cracker"  Bob  Jones  was  on 
hand,  and  burning  with  impatience  to  tell  his  recent 
companions  that  on  the  train  he  had  met  Reddy  Cudde- 
back,  who,  when  he  learned  the  sad  fate  of  "Cracker" 
Bob's  big  wheel,  had  proved  himself  one  of  the  best  fel- 
lows in  the  world  by  offering  to  let  him  have  a  safety  al- 
most new  for  half  price,  with  the  forty  dollars  given  for 
the  ordinary  to  be  counted  in  as  part  payment. 

In  the  joyous  confusion  no  one  noticed  that  Tom  Bur- 
gess had  slipped  away,  but  when,  a  little  later,  they  aU 
dismounted  before  a  large  handsome  house  a  few  blocks 
down  the  avenue,  he  stood  in  its  doorway.  He  was  al- 
ready clad  in  the  same  natty  uniform  of  gray  .cloth 
trimmed  with  black  braid  as  the  others,  and  was  waiting 
to  welcome  the  Rangers  to  his  home. 

In  all  New  York  there  was  not  so  jolly  and  outrage- 
ously happy  a  houseful  of  boys  as  this  one  during  the 
next  four  days.  They  all  slept  on  cots  in  the  great  bil- 
liard-room, while  their  Wheels  were  stored  in  the  ample 
basement. 

Complete  uniforms  like  those  worn  by  the  others  were 
ready  for  Captain  Will  Rogers  and  for  Billy  Barlow 
upon  their  arrival,  and  when  on  the  following  day  the 
Berks  Road  Rangers  joined  the  great  L.  A.W.  parade  in 
( ''Mitral  Park,  their  fine  appearance  drew  forth  praise 
from  all  sides. 

"I  Mi.  dear!"  sighed  the  young  Captain.  "I  wish  I 
knew  whether  it  would  be  better  to  turn  the  Rangers  into 
a  bicycle  lire  company  or  into 'cycle  militia;"  and  Mr. 
liui-gess,  who  overheard  him,  suggested, 

"  \\~hy  not  combine  the  two  and  be  both?" 

About  the  wheels  with  which  they  were  provided,  and 
which  they  rode  every  day  over  the  smooth  driveways  of 
the  Park,  Mr.  Burgess  made  them  a  little  speech  one 
evening  that  was  something  like  this:  "My  dear  boys, 
you  can  never  know  how  grateful  I  am  to  you  for  all 


the  kindness  you  have  shown  my  son  Tom  during  the 
past  summer,  nor  for  the  health  and  strength  lie  has 
gained  during  his  term  of  membership  in  the  Ready  Ran- 
gers. You  have  done  so  much  for  him  that  I  wanted  to 
do  something  for  you  in  return,  and  when  I  learned  that 
you  were  desirous  of  becoming  Road  Rangers  it  seemed 
to  me  that  I  saw  an  opportunity.  You  have  helped  me 
improve  this  opportunity  by  kindly  accepting  Tom's  in- 
vitation for  wheelman's  week  in  the  city.  You  have 
further  helped  me  by  approving  of  the  uniforms  that  I 
took  the  liberty  of  designing  and  having  made  for  you. 
Now  you  will  confer  a  further  favor  if  you  will  accept, 
these  uniforms  and  carry  them  home  as  souvenirs  of  this 
happy  visit.  As  for  the  wheels  you  are  riding,  although 
I  am  not  a  wheelman,  they  are  all  mine,  and,  as  even 
the  most  persistent  rider  could  not  use  so  many,  I  am 
anxious  to  dispose  of  them.  Do  you  care  to  become  pur 
chasers?  If  so,  you  may  have  them  at  something  less 
than  the  cost  price. 

"Some  time  in  the  spring  I  mean  to  visit  Berks,  and  at 
that  time  I  trust  you  will  be  prepared  to  make  me  an  of- 
fer for  my  bicycles.  There  is  one  more  thing  I  want  to 
say.  I  am  in  search  of  a  suitable  location  in  the  country 
for  a  summer  residence,  and  am  strongly  inclined  toward 
Berks  for  that  purpose.  Its  sole  drawback  seems  to  be  a 
lack  of  good  roads.  Tom  tells  me  that  the  Rangers  mean 
to  have  good  roads,  and  I  say  that  if  you  succeed  in  this 
undertaking  you  will  start  your  village  on  such  an  era  of 
prosperity  as  it  lias  never  seen." 

These  remarks  were  received  with  hearty  applause  by 
the  Rangers,  and  though  some  of  them  had  indulged  in 
faint  hopes  that  their  bicycles  were  to  be  given  to  them. 
each  member  determined  to  do  his  level  best  to  earn  the 
coveted  wheel. 

The  morrow  being  the  last  day  of  the  great  bicycle 
meet,  was  also  the  one  reserved  for  racing.  Of  course 
the  Road  Rangers  attended  the  races,  together  with  an 
immense  concourse  of  enthusiastic  spectators.  On  the 
programme  among  the  entries  for  the  amateur  five  mile 
race  the  boys  discovered  one  who  appeared  as  "The  Un- 
known from  Berks,"  and,  curious  to  see  who  it  might  be, 
they  awaited  this  event  with  a  very  lively  interest.  It 
was  the  last  on  the  programme,  and  called  out  so  many 
starters  that  for  some  time  they  failed  to  discover  a  famil- 
iar face.  Within  a  few  laps  of  the  finish  two  of  the  con- 
testants were  so  far  in  the  lead  that  it  was  evident,  bar- 
ring accidents,  the  race  lay  with  one  of  them.  Suddenly, 
as  the  flying  figures  passed  the  place  occupied  by  the 
Rangers,  "Cracker  "  Bob  Jones  sprang  to  his  feet,  waving 
his  hat,  and  yelling:  "It's  Reddy  Cuddeback,  fellows! 
Good  for  you,  Reddy!  Whoop  her  up!  Lay  him  out! 
You've  got  to  win !" 

In  an  instant  the  others  took  up  the  cry,  cheering  for 
Berks  and  Reddy  Cuddeback  like  madmen.  As  though 
spurred  on  by  the  sympathy  denoted  by  these  friendly 
shouts,  Reddy  Cuddeback  shot  to  the  front,  not  only  win- 
ning the  five-mile  race,  but  breaking  the  American  rec- 
ord for  that  distance,  and  becoming  in  a  moment  the  hero 
of  the  day.  The  Rangers  rushed  on  the  track  to  congrat- 
ulate the  plucky  rider  who  had  brought  such  fame  to 
Berks,  and,  raising  him  on  their  shoulders,  bore  him  with 
ex  lilting  shouts  to  the  dressing-room.  As  they  waited  out- 
side for  Reddy  to  appear,  that  they  might  again  shake 
hands  with  him  and  congratulate  him  and  show  how 
proud  they  were  to  be  fellow-townsmen  with  him,  Billy 
Barlow  said  very  quietly  to  Will  Rogers, 

"Wouldn't  it  be  a  good  thing  to  invite  him  to  go  home 
on  the  train  with  you,  and  wearing  a  Ranger  badge?" 

"  Of  course  it  would,"  replied  the  young  captain,  hear- 
tily. "  But  do  you  think  he'll  join?" 

"Yes,  I  think  he  will,"'  answered  Billy  Barlow,  with  a 
confident  smile.  "At  any  rate,  I'd  ask  him."  * 


HARPERS 


H 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


Copyright,  1894,  by  HAKPKH  i  BROTHERS.     All  Rights  Re! 


PUBLLSHKL*     WKKKLY. 
VOL.  XVI.— NO.  792. 


NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY,  JANUARY  1,  1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPT. 
TWO    DOLLARS    A    TEAIl. 


BOYS    AND    GIRLS    OF    NEW    YORK    STREETS. 


BY    E.  W.  TOWN  SEND. 


I.— A     STREET -WAIF'S     LUCK. 


rpHERE  was  nothing,  except  perhaps  a  little  more  rag- 
1  gedness,  in  the  appearance  of  Danny  Cahill  different 
from  the  other  boys  lie  was  playing  with  under  one  of 
the  stone  arches  which  support  the  heavy  and  solid  road- 
way leading  to  the  New  York  side  of  the  great  Brooklyn 
Bridge. 

The  streets  under  those  arches  were  favorite  playing- 
grounds  for  Danny  and  his  companions  for  several  rea- 
sons. They  were  interrupted  less  there  by  passing  teams 
and  people  than  in  the  open  streets;  there  were  no  win- 
dows to  be  broken  if  they  were  playing  ball;  and  the 
police  officers  did  not  drive  them  away  from  there. 


which  was  the  best  reason  of  all — to  Danny  especially,  for 
he  had  found  very  few  places  where,  whether  he  was  do- 
ing anything  or  nothing,  he  did  not  seem  to  be  in  the 
way  of  the  police. 

There  was  once  a  place  which  Danny  called  home,  but 
even  there  the  police  came  pretty  often — not  for  him,  but 
for  the  man  he  lived  with  there.  He  knew  very  little 
about  the  man,  and  nothing  good;  yet  Danny  at  that 
time  was  not  much  given  to  thinking  or  arguing  about 
his  rights  or  his  duty,  or  else  he  might  have  asked  some 
questions  about  the  man  he  lived  with.  He  remembered, 
in  a  not  very  clear  way,  that  lie  went  to  live  in  the  room 


162 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLDME  XVI. 


with  that  man  one  day  after  a  funeral  in  which  both  lie 
and  the  man  seemed  to  be  interested.  His  relation  to  the 
man  he  lived  with  did  not  seem  to  be  of  any  importance, 
and  so,  after  hearing  a  boy  talking  about  an  uncle,  and 
learning  that  the  uncle  was  the  boy's  father's  brother, 
Danny  made  up  his  mind  that  as  the  man  he  lived  with 
was  named  Cahill,  he  was  his  uncle,  and  that  the  funeral 
he  remembered  something1  about  must  have  been  his 
father's.  He  did  not  remember  that  he  had  ever  had  a 
mother.  Uncle  Cahill  was  about  as  good-for-nothing  as 
any  man  Danny  had  ever  seen,  and  it  came  in  his  way  to 
see  some  great  good-for-nothings. 

There  was  very  little  in  the  room  they  lived  in  which 
would  remind  you  of  home.  There  was  but  one  bed,  or 
rather  some  broken  pieces  of  furniture  on  which  the 
blankets  were  spread  which  was  called  a  bed;  one  chair, 
which  served  as  a  wash-stand,  for  it  always  held  the  tin 
wash-basin;  and  some  scraps  of  iron  on  which  the  pieces 
of  wood  Danny  had  to  pick  up  in  the  streets  were  used 
for  fuel  when  anything  was  cooked  in  the  room.  That 
was  not  very  often. 

Danny's  uncle  called  himself  a  longshoreman,  because 
what  little  honest  work  he  did  was  done  along  the 
wharves  of  the  East  River.  But  work  of  any  kind  did 
not  suit  Mr.  Cahill,  and  when  he  found  that  by  forcing 
Danny  to  beg  he  could  thus  procure  enough  to  make 
work  unnecessary,  he  said  that  he  was  too  sick  to  work. 
Begging  was  not  at  all  to  Danny's  liking,  although  he 
had  such  a  handsome  little  face,  and  was  dressed  in  such 
miserable  rags,  the  people  he  begged  from  near  the  en- 
trance to  the  Brooklyn  Bridge  and  in  City  Hall  Park 
gave  him  pennies  and  nickels  in  such  number  that  some- 
times, in  an  hour  or  two,  his  uncle,  who  always  lounged 
near  by  to  see  what  the  people  gave,  would  take  the 
money  from  him  and  disappear. 

Danny  had  very  little  education  from  books,  but  he 
had  a  sorrowful  amount  of  education  from  the  life  of  the 
tenement  where  he  lived,  and  he  knew  wellxnough  what 
it  meant  when  his  uncle  hurried  away  with  the  begged 
money.  It  meant  that  he  would  not  see  him  again  that 
day  at  least,  for  his  uncle  would  not  bother  him  again 
until  that  money  was  spent  for  drink.  Sometimes  it 
meant  that  he  would  not  see  him  again  for  a  week  or 
.two  weeks,  and  then  he  knew  that  his  uncle  had  been 
arrested  for  fighting  and  drunkenness. 

The  truth  is  that  he  was  never  sorry  when  this  hap- 
pened. If  he  had  been  reared  with  a  different  kind  of 
life  around  him  he  would  have  had  a  different  feeling,  of 
course,  about  the  matter,  and  felt  sorry  for  the  bad  life 
which  kept  his  uncle  in  jail  so  much  of  the  time.  But 
as  his  uncle's  imprisonment  meant  Danny's  liberty,  he 
was  rather  sorry  when  the  landlord  unlocked  the  door  of 
their  room  again,  for  that  meant  that  his  uncle  was  out 
of  jail  and  Danny  must  beg  for  him  again. 

You  may  ask  what  Danny  did  for  a  home  when  he 
was  locked  out  of  the  room.  That  question  gave  him  no 
trouble.  Even  when  he  lived  at  home  he  had  to  get  his 
food  the  best  way  he  could,  but  he  knew  so  many  cooks 
and  waiters  in  the  boarding-houses  and  restaurants  along 
the  East  River  that  he  never  ha.d  to  go  hungry.  Some- 
times he  ran  errands  and  did  light  work  around  the 
kitchens  for  the  cooks,  but  even  when  they  had  no  work 
for  him  to  do  they  were  always  willing  to  give  him 
scraps  of  meat  and  bread  when  he  asked  for  them. 

Danny,  when  he  was  at  liberty,  I  mean  when  he  was 
not  forced  to  beg,  was  an  unusually  cheerful  and  manly 
little  fellow,  and  that  made  him  a  favorite  not  only  with 
the  good-natured  cooks  in  the  sailors'  boarding-houses, 
but  made  him  friends  in  other  places  where  friends  were 
useful.  Among  his  other  friends  were  the  night  watch- 
men on  the  East  River  piers.  There  were  a  number  of 
those  watchmen  who  would  let  Danny  slip  into  the  pirr.s 
to  sleep  any  night  he  told  them  he  was  locked  out  from 


home.  They  knew  without  asking  any  questions  what 
that  meant,  and  more  than  once  one  big  watchman,  at 
whose  piers  a  line  of  freight  steamers  loaded  and  un- 
loaded, would  point  out  a  pile  of  wool  or  cotton  bales  for 
his  bed,  and  give  him  some  bags  for  bedclothes. 

This  sort  of  life  did  not  suit  Danny,  although  there 
were  many  of  his  companions  who  sold  papers  who  en- 
vied him.  Curiously  enough  it  was  those  very  boys 
Danny  envied.  He  had  always  wanted  to  sell  papers 
and  earn  enough  money  to  pay  for  his  own  room  and 
meals,  but  that  did  not  suit  his  uncle.  Begging  was  a 
quicker  and  cheaper  way  of  getting  money,  to  Mr.  Ca- 
hill's  mind.  Danny  had  asked  him  once  to  leave  him 
enough  pennies  to  start  in  business  a.s  a  newsboy,  but  he 
was  only  threatened  with  a  thrashing  for  his  request. 

Now  a  curious  thing  about  Danny  was  that  he  would 
not  beg  money  for  himself,  even  to  start  in  business  with, 
so  that  when  Mr.  Cahill  was  in  jail  Danny  was  nothing 
better,  I  am  bound  to  say,  than  a  street  arab.  All  the 
streets  under  and  around  the  Bridge,  and  all  the  East 
River  piers  for  half  a  mile  up  and  down  the  river,  he 
knew  as  well  as  any  school-boy  knows  every  corner  of 
his  school  yard.  He  knew  by  sight  every  policeman  on 
all  those  beats,  to  what  precinct  station  they  belonged, 
and  the  names  of  their  captains.  He  knew  where  all  the 
fire-engine  houses  were,  the  numbers  by  which  the  en- 
gines, hose-carts,  and  hook  and  ladders  were  called,  and 
could  tell  to  what  hospital  any  ambulance  belonged  with- 
out reading  the  name  printed  on  its  side. 

He  could  tell  by  the  stripes,  stars,  cross,  or  other  sign 
painted  on  a  steamship's  smoke-stack  to  what  line  she  be- 
longed, and  to  what  country  she  carried  freight  or  pas- 
sengers; but  I'm  afraid  he  could  not  come  anywhere  near 
telling  you  where  that  country  was,  even  whether  it  was 
in  the  eastern  or  western  hemisphere.  The  fact  is  that 
nearly  all  of  Danny's  learning  was  what  his  street  life 
taught  him.  He  had  a  hard  teacher,  and  had  to  pass 
hard  examinations.  They  were  not  just  like  the  exam- 
inations one  has  at  school,  for  they  were  usually  ques- 
tions by  older  boys  regarding  steamships,  fire-engines, 
the  limits  of  the  police  precincts,  and  such  things,  and  as 
an  ignorant  answer  always  brought  on  a  fight.  Danny's 
muscular  and  mental  development  went  hand  in  hand. 

After  two  weeks  of  this  vagabond  liberty  Danny  had 
been  found  one  day  by  his  uncle,  only  an  hour  before  we 
first  saw  him,  playing  under  an  arch  of  the  Bridge.  Mr. 
Cahill  had  just  been  discharged  from  jail,  and  as  he  had 
had  nothing  to  drink  in  those  two  weeks,  and  had  been 
made  to  scrub  floors  and  do  other  work,  he  was  in  a  par- 
ticularly unpleasant  frame  of  mind. 

"Have  you  any  money?"  was  Mr.  Cahill's  first  ques- 
tion, catching  Danny  roughly  by  the  collar  of  his  ragged 
jacket. 

"  Of  course  I  'ain't,"  Danny  answered. 

"  Well,  then,  get  up  to  the  Bridge  entrance,  and  get 
some  mighty  quick  if  you  don't  want  a  good  licking,"  his 
uncle  said. 

Danny  walked  toward  the  Bridge  rather  sullenly.  He 
did  not  like  begging  at  all,  and  he  was  beginning  to  think 
that  he  was  paying  too  high  a  price  for  the  privilege  of 
sleeping  on  the  bare  floor  of  his  uncle's  room.  Cahill 
slouched  after  the  boy,  and  when  he  reached  the  Bridge 
entrance  leaned  against  the  rail  of  the  stairs  which  run 
up  to  the  elevated  road  station  there.  Danny  let  a  num- 
ber of  men  and  women  pass  him  without  begging,  and 
Cahill,  who  had  been  watching  him  closely,  walked  tow- 
ard him  with  a  scowl,  and  as  he  passed  him  s\y]y  gave 
the  boy's  arm  a  terrible  pinch. 

Danny  yelled  with  pain  and  rage,  and  a  half  hundred 
people  stopped  to  look  at  him,  and  some  ran  toward  Jiim. 

The  first  person  by  his  side,  however,  was  a  police  offi- 
cer who  had  been  quietly  watching  both  Danny  and  Ca- 
hill. The  officer  grabbed  the  man  first,  and  then  laid  a. 


JANUARY  1,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


163 


hand  on  Danny's  shoulder.  In  a  moment  almost  they 
were  surrounded  by  half  a  thousand  people,  for  it  was 
iiearing  the  afternoon  hour,  when  travel  over  the  Bridge 
is  greatest.  Men,  women,  and  children  crowded  around, 
asking  questions  of  the  officer  and  sympathizing  with  the 
boy,  but  the  only  one  of  these  the  officer  paid  any  atten- 
tion to  was  a  rather  tall  thick-set  man,  whose  heavy  face 
seemed  to  Danny  to  express  as  much  kindness  as  stern- 
ness. He  asked  the  officer  in  a  low  tone  what  the  trou- 
ble was,  and  the  officer  answered,  in  a  manner  which 
Danny  instantly  detected  to  be  unusually  polite,  that  the 
man  had  been  forcing  the  boy  to  beg.  The  stranger 
looked  at  Danny  curiously  a  moment,  and  then  said  to 
the  officer,  "I  suppose  the  boy  will  be  given  to  the  So- 
ciety." 

"I  suppose  so,"  the  officer  replied;  and  then,  to  every 
one's  astonishment.  Danny  set  up  a  bitter  wailing. 

It  was  to  the  surprise,  I  should  have  said,  of  every  one 
but  the  officer  and  the  stranger,  for  they  both  knew  the 
horror  and  despair  which  filled  the  boy's  mind  at  the 
thought  of  being  given  into  the  custody  of  the  charitable 
and  reform  institution  which  they  called  "the  Society." 

That  Society  does  great  good  daily,  and  it  is  a  welcome 
refuge  to  a  majority  of  the  unfortunate  children  it  cares 
for,  but  they  are  not  arabs  as  Danny  was.  He  knew  what 
the  Society  was  from  the  stories  of  boys  of  his  class  who 
had  escaped  from  it,  and  he  knew  that  its  rules  and  regu- 
lations, and  most  of  all  its  confinement,  would  fret  his 
life  out. 

The  stranger  looked  at  him  with  a  rough  sympathy,  and 
whispered  something  to  the  officer.  Danny  felt  the  police- 
man's grasp  on  his  shoulder  relax,  and  in  an  instant  he 
was  squirming  between  the  legs  of  the  crowd  and  was 
lost. 

The  stranger  winked  at  the  officer,  smiled  a  little,  and 
quickly  forced  liis  way  in  the  direction  Danny  had  taken. 
The  boy  scuttled  through  the  crowd  like  a  rat,  and  darted 
down  Frankfort  Street,  which  runs  from  the  City  Hall 
Park  down  past  the  Bridge  arches.  He  stopped  crying 
the  instant  he  made  his  escape,  and  was  thinking  hard, 
trying  to  make  up  his  mind  who  the  big  stranger  with  the 
shiny  silk  hat  and  the  rich  black  clothes  could  be.  His 
experience  made  him  know  that  he  was  a  person  of  great 
importance.  The  policeman  had  spoken  to  the  man  very 
civilly,  and  had  let  Danny  escape  at  the  man's  hint. 

"Well,"  concluded  Danny  to  himself,  "I  don't  know 
who  de  mug  is,  but  he's  got  a  big  pull,  whoever  he  is, 
sure." 

Danny  had  heard  that  word  " pull "  used  in  its  slang 
sense  often  enough  to  know  that  it  meant  a  strong  political 
influence,  but  why  any  one  should  want  to  use  a  "  pull" 
to  save  him  from  "  the  Society"  was  too  much  for  his 
little  head  to  make  out,  so  he  gave  it  up,  and  stopped 
under  one  of  the  arches  to  play.  And  there  it  \vas,  and 
at  that  time,  we  first  found  him. 

He  had  not  been  there  more  than  ten  minutes  before 
he  was  surprised  to  see  his  big  friend  walking  slowly 
down  Frankfort  Street,  evidently  looking  for  some  one. 
He  motioned  to  Danny  when  he  saw  him,  and  the  boy 
ran  to  him  across  the  street. 

"The  officer  told  me,"  the  stranger  began,  "that  the 
man  with  you  is  named  Cahill.  Is  he  your  father?" 

"No,  he's  me  uncle,  I  tink,"  Danny  answered. 

"  Is  his  name  Terrance?" 

"  No,  dey  calls  him  Terry." 

"  Well,  that's  near  enough,"  the  stranger  answered, 
with  a  smile.  "  If  he  is  Terrance  Cahill  and  your  uncle, 
I  knew  your  father.  How  are  you  getting  on?'' 

"I  ain't  getting  on  at  all,"  Danny  answered.      "  If   I 
had  a  stake  to  buy  papers  wid  I'd  be  all  right." 
"How  much  of  a  stake  would  do  you?" 

Danny  began  thinking  very  hard.  He  saw  the  stranger 
put  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  and  of  course  the  boy  was 


sharp  enough  to  know  that  here  was  his  chance,  without 
begging,  to  secure  money  with  which  to  start  business. 
He  stood  with  his  cap  off,  and  his  head  cocked  on  one 
side,  trying  to  decide  whether  he  should  ask  for  ten  or 
fifteen  cents,  when  his  trouble  was  ended  by  the  big  man 
saying, 

"  Could  you  make  a  start  with  a  dollar?" 

This  nearly  took  the  boy's  breath  away,  and  all  he 
could  answer  was, 

"Sure!" 

The  man  took  out  four  silver  quarters  and  gave  them 
to  Danny,  ten  times  as  much  money  as  he  had  ever  owned 
before  in  his  life.  He  squeezed  the  silver  so  tight  in  his 
hand  that  it  hurt,  but  he  said  nothing,  only  kept  looking 
at  this  remarkable  man,  wondering  what  would  happen 
next. 

"I  don't  give  you  that  money,"  the  man  said.  "I 
lend  it  to  you.  When  will  you  repay  me?"  This  was 
more  of  a  business  than  Danny  could  quite  understand, 
so  the  man,  seeing  the  boy's  puzzled  look,  added,  "You 
must  come  every  Saturday  to  my  office  in  the  Tivoli 
Theatre,  and  pay  twenty-five  cents,  or  what  you  can,  until 
the  dollar  is  repaid." 

"Are  you  Mr.  Kean?"  Danny  asked,  quickly,  his  eyes 
opening  wide. 

" That's  right,"  Mr.  Kean  answered  with  a  smile.  "Do 
you  know  me?" 

"  Everybody  in  our  district  knows  de  name  of  de  owner 
of  de  Tivoli  Theatre,"  Danny  said. 

"Then  you'll  come  on  Saturday  and  pay  what  you 
can,"  Mr.  Kean  said,  as  he  walked  away. 

"  Dat's  right,"  Danny  called  out  after  him. 

That  night  Danny  slept  on  a  bale  of  hides  from  Central 
America.  It  was  long  before  he  could  go  to  sleep,  he 
was  so  excited  thinking  of  the  next  day,  when  he  should 
start  in  business  for  himself,  but  when  he  did  sleep,  his 
last  night  on  the  piers,  he  dreamed  the  happiest  dreams 
of  his  rough  little  life. 


MILITARY   SIGNALLING. 

DURING-  the  autumn  the  armies  of  Europe  have 
been  marching  and  countermarching,  charging  and 
retreating,  all  over  the  respective  countries  that  they 
have  been  organized  to  defend,  experimenting  with  all 
sorts  of  new  arms  and  engines,  and  applying  new  tests 
to  the  old  methods  of  warfare.  But  perhaps  the  most  in- 
teresting thing  to  the  casual  observers  at  these  great  au- 
tumn manoeuvres  was  the  number  of  contrivances  used 
for  keeping  open  communication  between  various  regi- 
ments, army  corps,  and  divisions.  Of  course  we  all  know 
how  difficult  it  must  be  in  time  of  war,  especially  in  an 
enemy's  country,  to  send  back  information  from  the 
front,  or  to  notify  another  column  of  the  presence  of  an 
enemy  when  the  telegraph  wires  are  cut,  or  if  there  are 
no  telegraph  wires  in  the  neighborhood.  Armies  have 
therefore  adopted  all  sorts  of  ways  of  signalling  to  one 
another,  some  of  which  can  be  used  by  day,  some  by 
night,  and  others  both  by  daylight  and  in  the  darkness. 
All  these  methods  were  brought  into  pla.y  at  these  Euro- 
pean manoeuvres,  and  their  value  in  aiding  the  move- 
ments of  large  bodies  of  men  was  proved  to  be  inval- 
uable. 

In  some  cases  whole  regiments  were  saved  from  cap- 
ture or  total  destruction  (imaginary  destruction,  of  course) 
by  having  the  news  signalled  to  them  from  some  distant 
point  of  what  had  happened  there,  or  of  what  might  be 
expected  to  happen  in  the  neighborhood  of  where  they 
were.  Wherever  there  is  a  telegraph  line  an  army  will 
always  seize  it,  and  make  use  of  the  instruments  and 
wires  to  keep  in  communication  with  its  base  of  supplies 


ir.4 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


or  witli  headquarters  iu  the  rear.  When  the  regular  and  hear  through.  A  telephone  line  like  this  can  be 
wires  are  destroyed,  however,  it  becomes  necessary  for  the  rapidly  set  up,  as  a  wagon  can  carry  the  bamboo  poles 
signal  corps  to  lay 'a  field  telegraph  line,  several  miles  along,  and  a  man  with  a  coil  of  wire  on  his  back  can  lay 


of  which  can  be  run  from  the  front  back  to  headquarters 
in  a  very  short  while.  The  lield  telegraph  office  is  usual- 
ly established  in  a  covered  wagon,  fitted  inside  with  ev- 

"  T  T  


the  line  as  fast  as  his  companions  can  stick  the  poles  into 
the  ground. 

But  it  frequently  happens  that  the  enemy  is  so  active 


erything  that  is  necessary  for  sending  and  receiving  mes-     that  neither  telegraph  nor  telephone  lines  can  be  main- 
and  provided  with  several  coils  of  wire   Mid  many     tained,  or  the  bodies  of  troops  are  in  such  a  position  that 


pronged  sticks.  These  sticks  are  stuck  in  the  ground, 
and  support  the  wire 
where  trees  or  roofs 
or  convenient  poles 
are  not  to  be  found. 
Sometimes  it  is  ne- 
cessary to  lay  the 
field  telegraph  so 
rapidly  that  the  sol- 
diers do  not  take  the 
trouble  to  suspend 
the  wire,  but  just  lay 
it  flat  along  the 
ground,  running  it 
over  sticks  only. 
where  the  road  or  a 
stream  must  be 
crossed. 

In  one  part  of 
France  this  fall  the 
manoeuvres  consist- 
ed of  an  attack  by 
an  entire  army  corps 
upon  a  large  fortress. 
The  defenders  of  the 
fort  had  established 
many  redoubts  and 
outposts  on  hill-tops 
and  in  farm-houses 
and  in  windmills. 
All  these  outposts 
were  connected  by 
telephone.  The  men 
of  the  signal  corps 
strung  the  wires  sev- 
eral days  before  the 
attack  was  expected, 
so  that  when  the  en- 
emy appeared  the 
lookouts  were  en- 
abled to  converse 
with  their  superiors 
inside  the  fortress 
just  as  if  they  had 
been  only  a  few  yards 
away. 

The  country  all  about  the  fort  was  mapped  out  and 
divided  into  squares  that  were  either  numbered  or  letter- 
ed, and  the  soldiers  knew  exactly  how  to  aim  the  can- 
nons and  mortars  in  the  fort  so  that  the  shells  would 
drop  in  certain  places.  In  actual  warfare  the  pickets 
would  telephone  to  the  commanding  officer  that  a  squad- 
ron of  cavalry  was  approaching  behind  a  hill  to  the 
north,  or  that  several  regiments  of  infantry  were  hiding 
in  a  bit  of  woods  to  the  south.  Then  the  big  guns  in  the 
fort  could  be  trained  on  the  woods  or  on  the  depression 
behind  the  hillock,  and  shells  could  be  dropped  on  the 
enemy's  advance-guard  even  while  he  was  out  of  sight, 
and  the  invading  force  might  thus  be  prevented  from  se- 
curing an  advantageous  position  from  which  to  attack. 

The  telephone  system  used  by  the  French  soldiers  on 
this  occasion  was  a  campaign  outfit  that  could  easily  be 
transported  any  distance.  It  was  very  simple,  consisting 
merely  of  coils  of  copper  wire,  of  pronged  bamboo  poles 
for  supports,  and  of  mouth-pieces  and  ear-pieces  to  talk 


RECALLING    TROOPS    BY    WIGWAGGING. 


they  cannot  establish  that  sort  of  communication,  or  the 

advance  is  so  rapid 
that  there  is  no  time 
to  waste  on  so  elab- 
orate an  arrange- 
ment. Yet  commu- 
nication must  be 
kept  up,  and  so  the 
signal  corps  has  to 
be  able  in  some  way 
to  talk  at  long  range. 
By  day  this  can  be 
done  with  flags,  or, 
if  the  sun  is  shining, 
by  using  the  helio- 
graph. At  night, 
torches  and  flash 
lanterns  are  used. 

Wigwagging  with 
flags  is  the  most  com- 
mon and  also  the 
most  reliable  of  any 
of  these  devices,  and 
is  the  system  used 
by  all  the  armies  of 
civilized  nations. 
The  signal  -  men  of 
the  United  States 
Army  are  particu- 
larly proficient  in 
this  sort  of  thing, 
and  they  are  also 
champions  with  the 
heliograph.  In 

Utah,  a  few  weeks 
ago,  Captain  Glass- 
ford,  U.S.A.,  sent  a 
message  one  hun- 
dred and  eighty- 
three  miles  with  no 
intermediate  station. 
He  now  holds  the 
world's  record  for 
long-distance  signal- 
ling with  the  sun 
machine. 

The  heliograph  is  a  very  simple  instrument,  but  it  is, 
unfortunately,  of  no  use  unless  the  sun  is  shining.  It 
consists  of  a  mirror  with  a  hole  in  the  centre,  and  back 
of  this  hole  is  a  brass  rod.  The  mirror  is  mounted  on  a 
tripod,  and  the  operator  telegraphs  to  a  distant  point  by 
sighting  over  the  brass  rod,  through  the  hole,  to  the  point 
where  the  man  is  who  is  watching  for  the  message.  The 
rays  of  sunlight  are  flashed  through  space  in  dots  and 
dashes — that  is,  either  in  short  or  long  rays.  The  short 
rays  correspond  to  the  dots  in  the  Morse  telegraphic  code, 
and  the  long  rays  correspond  to  the  dashes.  So  that  a 
word  telegraphed  by  rays  of  sunlight  is  sent  on  the  same 
principle  as  a  word  ticked  over  a  telegraph  wire,  except 
that  with  the  heliograph  the  receiving  operator  sees  the 
spelling,  whereas  the  ordinary  telegraph  operator  hears 
the  spelling. 

It  makes  no  difference,  however,  whether  the  sun  is 
out  or  not  when  it  comes  to  sending  a  message  with  flags. 
The  signal-man  takes  his  position  on  a  hill,  or  on  some 


JANUARY  1,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


165 


elevated  position,  and  waves  his  flag  until 
he  has  attracted  the  attention  of  the  soldiers 
at  the  post  he  is  signalling1  to.  Another  sol- 
dier beside  him  with  a  spy-glass  and  a  note- 
book says,  "All  right,  we've  got  "em!"  and 
the  flagman  begins  to  send  his  message. 
The  dots  and  dashes  are  made  by  motioning- 
to  the  right  or  to  the  left.  Perhaps  he  is 
telegraphing  across  a  river  to  a  body  of  sot- 
diers  who  have  been  sent  off  on  a  foraging 
expedition.  Such  an  incident  occurred  in 
our  late  war.  The  foragers  were  less  than 
a  hundred  in  number,  and  had  no  other 
means  but  flags  to  keep  in  communication 
with  the  main  body  across  the  river.  News 
came  to  the  camp  that  a  force  of  Confeder- 
ate cavalry  was  approaching,  and  that  in 
less  than  two  hours  they  would  surprise  the 
foragers  and  capture  all  the  animals  and 
food  they  had  gathered.  This  important  in- 
formation was  wigwagged  through  the  air 
much  faster  than  the  Confederates  could  gal- 
lop across  the  fields. 

"All  right,"  came  the  answer  from  the 
foraging  party.  "We  shall  retreat  across 
the  river  at  once."  And  they  did  so,  ani- 
mals, soldiers,  provisions,  and  all,  and  when 
the  rebels  came  up  they  found  only  a  few 
cows  that  had  refused  to  swim  the  current, 
and  that  the  Federal  soldiers  had  been 
forced  to  leave  behind. 

At  night  a  torch  is  substituted  for  the 
flag,  but  a  message  cannot  be  transmitted  to 
a  greater  distance  than  three  miles  with  a 
torch,  because  the  arc  made  by  the  waving 
of  the  light  cannot  be  distinguished  much 
further  than  this.  For  this  reason  a  belter 
device  for  long-distance  signalling  by  night 

has  almost  universally  been  adopted.  It  consists  of  a  side,  and  by  opening  and  shutting  it  for  a  greater  or 
plain  lantern  provided  with  strong  reflectors  behind,  and  less  period  of  time  the  dots  and  dashes  are  made.  Such 
with  a  shutter  in  front  which  looks  very  much  like  a  win-  a  lantern  can  be  read  with  a  night-glass  ten  or  twelve 
dow-blind.  This  shutter  is  operated  by  a  handle  at  the  miles  away,  and  even  with  the  naked  eye  can  be  read 

about  seven  miles.  If  electric  light 
should  be  used  in  such  a  signal  lantern 
the  flashes  could,  of  course,  be  seen  a 
much  greater  distance. 

Every  army  has  its  secret  code  by 
which  it  sends  messages,  so  that  it  makes 
little  difference  that  all  nations  use  the 
Morse  system  of  dots  and  dashes  in  sig- 
nalling. Even  if  the  enemy  did  inter- 
cept the  words  that  were  being  flashed 
through  the  air  by  flags  or  lanterns,  he 
could  not  understand  their  secret  mean- 
ing unless  he  had  the  key  to  the  code, 
and  each  nation  in  Europe  is  very  care- 
ful to  see  that  his  neighbor  does  not  find 
out  about  its  secret  alphabet. 

Some  people  may  question  the  neces- 
sity of  all  these  different  methods,  but 
supposing  New  York  was  being  attacked 
by  an  enemy's  army.  Let  us  say  that 
our  harbor  forts  are  so  strong  that  the 
enemy  cannot  get  in  there;  but  he  lands 
armies  at  unprotected  points  north  and 
south  of  the  city.  Then  the  invaders  ad- 
vance on  us,  and  their  scouts  cut  our 
telegraph  wires,  so  that  we  are  practic- 
ally shut  off  from  the  rest  of  the  country. 
But  we  have  one  resource  left  to  keep  a 
watch  on  them.  We  station  our  signal- 
corps  men  on  the  hills  and  mountains 
FLASHING  SIGNALS  AT  NIGHT  FROM  FORT  TO  FORT.  around  the  city,  and  others  on  tall  build- 


TELEGRAPHING    DESPATCHES    FROM    THE    FRONT    TO    HEADQUARTERS. 


166 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME   XVI. 


ings  in'town.  An  officer  on  High  Tor,  in  the  Catskills, 
for  instance,  wigwags  that  the  enemy  is  approaching 
Elizabeth,  New  Jersey;  and  if  it  gets  dark  before  lie  can 
send  all  the  information  that  he  has  gathered  he  signals 
the  rest  with  a  flash  lantern. 

From  the  other  direction,  over  on  Long  Island,  perhaps, 
other  squads  of  signal-men  have  been  sending  in  news 
with  a  heliograph,  so  that  the  commander  of  the  troops 
in  New  York,  even  if  his  wires  are  down,  is  able  to  dis 
pose  of  his  men  to  the  best  advantage  for  the  defence  of 
the  city.  If  he  finds  himself  in  hard  straits  he  will  sig- 
nal over  the  enemy's  head,  across  his  lines,  to  the  rest  of 
the  country  beyond,  and  in  a  very  few  days  help  will 
come  pouring  over  the  hills  toward  Manhattan  Island- 
help  that  will  wipe  away  the  enemy,  and  set  the  tele- 
graph wires  up  again,  and  make  those  invading  fellows 
wish  they  had  never  tried  to  get  in  sight  of  Trinity  Church 
steeple. 


A   LARGE  SUPPLY. 

EY  must  bave  a  lot  of  giants," 
Said  Mabel  at  the   l>l:iy, 
"Because  my  Papa  says  that 
They  kill  cue  every  day. 

"  And  this  small  play's  been  running 

For  sixty-seven  days — 
That's  sixty-seven  giants, 

Not  counting  matiue'es." 


AFLOAT  WITH  THE   FLAG.1 


BY     \V.  J.   HENDERSON. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 
"CLEAR  SHIP  FOR  ACTION!" 

"  "VTOU  may  get  an  opportunity  to-morrow  to  show — 

J[  The  dull  regular  pulsing  of  the  engine  of  the  De- 
troit's launch  was  all  that  was  heard  for  several  minutes, 
while  the  distance  between  the  little  craft  and  the  ship 
rapidly  diminished. 

"  Mr.  King,"  said  the  Captain  suddenly. 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  Harold,  respectfully. 

"  What  I  said  to  you  a  moment  ago  was  intended  only 
for  the  ears  of  an  officer.  You  understand,  sir?" 

"Yes,  sir;  I  shall  be  silent." 

"Quite  right.  You  are  young  in  the  service,  and  you 
cannot  learn  too  soon  that  between-decks  gossip  is  idle 
and  injurious  to  discipline." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir!"  said  Harold,  rightly  construing  a  sug- 
gestion from  his  commanding  officer  as  an  order. 

A  hundred  eyes,  filled  with  expressions  of  curiosity, 
were  fixed  on  the  launch  as  she  ran  alongside  the  ship. 
Grave-looking  old  "waisters"  peered  out  of  the  broad- 
side ports,  their  hardy  faces  showing  brick-red  beside  the 
dusky  bronze  of  the  shapely  four-inch  guns.  Lively  fore- 
castle Jacks  leaned  in  unconscious  grace  over  the  rails 
and  studied  the  Captain's  countenance.  The  officer  of 
the  deck  stood  on  the  starboard  side  of  the  poop,  with 
the  faint  crimson  light  of  the  western  sky  flaming  along 
the  edge  of  his  polished  visor,  and  silently  watched  his 
superior  mount  the  ladder,  followed  by  the  young  cadet. 
Harold  stood  by  for  orders  on  reaching  the  deck,  expect- 
ing to  be  told  to  see  the  launch  secured  for  the  night  at 
the  port  boom,  where  she  had  been  allowed  to  lie. 

"Mr.  King,"  said  Commander  Brownsou,  lifting  his 
head  suddenly,  as  if  breaking  out  of  a  reverie. 

"Ay,  ay,  sir!" 

*  Beguu  in  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  No.  784 


"  Get  the  launch  alongside  and  lower  away  her 
falls." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir,"  replied  the  boy,  moving  away  to  exe- 
cute the  order.  It  was  now  nearly  eight  bells,  when  it 
would  be  his  watch  below;  but  orders  must  be  obeyed. 
The  Captain  paused  a  moment  before  his  cabin-door  and 
sent  a  keen  look  aloft  and  along  the  deck.  A  shadow 
of  a  smile  passed  over  his  bronzed  face  as  he  turned  and 
said  to  the  orderly: 

"Present  my  compliments  to  the  Executive  Officer, 
and  say  I  wish  to  see  him  in  my  cabin." 

The  orderly  saluted  and  moved  away.  A  pale  yellow 
glare  of  electric  light  flashed  and  faded  as  Commander 
Brownson  passed  through  the  door  to  his  cabin.  It  was  ' 
growing  dark  between-decks,  though  the  twilight  was 
still  fair  enough  to  make  all  things  visible  without. 
Eight  bells  were  struck,  and  the  interior  of  the  ship  rum- 
bled with  the  tread  of  feet  as  the  watch  below  tumbled 
up  to  relieve  the  watch  on  deck.  The  forecastle  Inds 
stretched  themselves  and  yawned,  as  they  rolled  below 
ready  to  turn  to  for  a  good-night  pull  at  their  pipes. 
Evening  quarters  were  over  long  ago,  and  hammocks  had 
been  piped  down,  so  Jacky  had  only  to  comfort  himself 
till  he  was  ordered  to  turn  iu.  The  sailor  is  an  easy 
fellow,  and  he  learns  to  take  things  as  they  come.  So 
when  the  Captain  returned  from  the  meeting  aboard  the 
flag-ship  and  gave  no  special  orders,  Jacky  dismissed  the 
incident  from  his  mind. 

George  Briscomb,  as  midshipman  of  the  quarter-deck, 
had  been  at  the  gangway  when  the  Captain  came  aboard, 
and  had  heard  his  order  to  Harold.  So  as  soon  as  he 
was  relieved,  George  asked  permission  to  go  and  assist 
Harold.  He  discovered  the  launch  lying  below  her  davits 
with  her  falls  hooked  on,  so  he  swung  himself  over  the 
rail,  slid  down  the  after-fall,  and  landed  in  the  boat  be- 
side his  astonished  friend. 

"Why,  Georgie,  what  are  you  after?"  asked  Hal. 

"  I  just  want  to  have  a  little  talk  with  you  in  a  place 
where  we  can  be  by  ourselves." 

The  engineer  of  the  launch  was  busily  engaged  draw- 
ing his  fire,  and  the  cockswain  and  two  other  hands  were 
forward.  Yet,  as  a  matter  of  precaution,  the  two  boys 
leaned  over  the  stern  with  their  faces  toward  the  water. 

"Now,  George,  heave  ahead,"  said  Harold. 

"Don't  talk  salt,  old  man,"  replied  George,  with  a 
smile:  "it's  not  natural  to  you." 

"  I'll  talk  like  a  Maine  farmer  if  it'll  please  you,  George ; 
but  what  do  you  want?" 

"  Did  you  find  out  what  the  meeting  was  for?" 

"No;  how  could  I  do  that?" 

"I  didn't  know  but  the  old  man  might  have  dropped 
you  a  hint." 

"My  dear  George,  do  you  suppose  that  our  venerable 
commanding  officer,  to  whom  you  refer,  with  the  irrever- 
ence of  the  merchant  service,  as  the  old  man,  has  sudden- 
ly formed  a  resolution  to  take  steerage  officers  into  his 
confidence?" 

"  Now,  Hal,  don't  sit  on  me.  You  know  I  don't  mean 
anything  of  that  sort.  Didn't  he  let  slip  any  remark 
that  signified  anything?" 

"Yes,"  said  Harold,  slowly,  "  he  did." 

"What  was  it?" 

"I  can't  tell  you;  he  cautioned  me  to  keep  my  coun- 
sel.'' 

"  But  surely  you  won't  keep  it  from  me!" 

"I  must,  George.    You  wouldn't  respect  me  if  I  didn't." 

George  knew  in  his  heart  that  this  was  true;  but  it  did 
seem  hard  to  him  that  his  friend  should  know  more  about 
the  secrets  of  the  fleet  than  he  did. 

"I  suppose  you're  right,  Hal,"  he  said,  mournfully. 

"  Oh,  I  say,  don't  be  so  sad,  Georgie,"  said  Hal,  smiling. 
"Perhaps  his  words  didn't  mean  so  very  much,  you 
know." 


JANUARY  1,  1S95. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


167 


"  Well,  I  don't  believe  that  meeting  aboard  the  flag-ship 
was  held  just  to  talk  about  the  weather.  My  !  but  I  can't 
help  feeling  excited  inside.  I'm  sure — 

His  words  were  cut  short  by  the  sudden  burst  upon  the 
air  of  a  long  shrill  piping  from  several  whistles  at  once. 
The  two  boys  sprang-  to  their  feet,  and  looked  intently  at 
one  another  as  they  waited  to  hear  what  words  would 
follow.  The  whistles  ceased,  and  a  sonorous  bass  voice 
cried,  "  All-1-1  hands,  clear  ship  for  action!" 

CHAPTER    XVIII. 
WAS    IT    ONLY    A    DRILL? 

"GRACIOUS!"  exclaimed  George.  "That  means  busi- 
ness!" 

"Don't  stop  to  talk,"  said  Harold.  "Let's  get  to  our 
stations." 

"  And  I  must  get  my  sword." 

In  a  few  moments  the  two  boys  were  aboard  the  ship 
properly  accoutred,  and  at  their  posts.  When  the  order 
is  given  to  clear  ship  for  action  the  officers  and  crew  as- 
semble in  the  parts  of  the  ship  to  which  they  are  assigned 
by  the  general  station  bill.  As  the  boys  clambered  aboard 
they  heard  the  whole  interior  of  the  steel  hull  resounding 
with  the  rapid  tread  of  feet,  and  though  absolute  silence 
is  required  at  such  times,  it  would  have  been  strange  if 
Jacky  had  not  muttered  a  few  complaints  about  a  "bloom- 
in'  moonlight  picnic  when  I  ort  to  be  doin'  forty  winks 
in  my  hammock."  But  the  discipline  of  the  crew  was 
too  good  to  permit  such  remarks  to  be  made  loudly,  and 
as  a  rule  the  men  sprang  to  their  stations  with  alacrity. 
As  the  boys  hastened  to  their  places  they  noted  that  Com- 
mander Brownson  and  Mr.  Crane,  the  Executive  Officer, 
were  on  the  bridge,  the  former  with  his  watch  in  his 
hand. 

"Going  to  see  how  long  it  takes  to  do  the  trick," 
thought  George. 

The  men  attached  to  the  navigator's  division  were  as 
busy  as  bees.  Indeed,  all  hands  were  hard  at  it.  In  the 
first  place  the  steam-launch  and  the  other  two  boats  that 
were  in  the  water  had  to  be  hoisted  up.  The  sharp  pip- 
ing of  the  boatswain's  whistle  urged  the  men  at  the  falls 
to  put  their  strength  into  their  work,  and  with  much 
rattling  and  groaning  of  blocks  the  boats  rose  to  their 
places,  where  they  had  to  be  secured  by  the  gripes  and 
with  extra  lashings  as  if  the  Detroit  were  bound  to 
sea. 

"  In  with  those  boat  booms,"  said  the  boatswain. 

Some  jumped  to  let  go  the  forward  guys,  others  to 
haul  away  on  the  after-braces,  and  others  to  attend  to 
the  topping  lift-tackle.  The  lively  fellows  stationed  in 
the  tops  sprang  aloft  with  the  activity  of  cats.  Those  in 
the  foretop  speedily  rigged  a  couple  of  quarter-lifts  on 
the  signal  yard,  so  that  it  should  not  fall  down  on  deck 
and  injure  some  one  if  it  were  shot  away.  Then  the 
same  hands  set  to  work  to  sling  the  fore-gaff  in  extra 
chains,  with  the  same  object  in  view.  The  main-gaff  was 
similarly  supported. 

"Now,  then,  shake  a  leg  there,"  said  Harold,  who  was 
assisting  the  officer  of  the  forecastle.  "  Clear  away  all 
that  spare  stuff." 

The  willing  tars  jumped  about  with  celerity  at  their 
work. 

"Mr.  King,"  said  the  officer  of  the  forecastle. 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir." 

"Give  special  attention  to  the  ground-tackle,  and  see 
all  in  perfect  order." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir,"  answered  the  boy. 

"Don't  forget  to  get  the  fish-davit  out  of  the  way." 

"  No,  sir." 

Every  nook  and  corner  had  to  be  cleared  of  odd  arti- 
cles lying  about  loose,  for  such  things  would  prove  to  be 
in  the  way  when  the  time  for  fighting  came.  Of  course 


the  men  aboard  the  Detroit  were  not  dreaming  of  fight- 
ing. It  is  no  uncommon  thing  for  a  Captain  to  turn  his 
crew  out,  call  them  to  quarters,  load  and  fire  the  battery, 
even  at  sea,  in  the  middle  of  the  night.  In  fact,  he  is  re- 
quired to  do  this  at  stated  periods  to  test  the  efficiency  of 
his  crew.  This  is  what  the  men  of  the  Detroit  supposed 
was  about  to  happen,  though  some  of  them  suspected  that 
there  was  something  beneath  all  this,  and  none  of  them 
could  see  just  how  the  firing  part  of  the  drill  could  be 
accomplished  in  the  harbor. 

"  I  s'pose  it  'II  be  up  '  killiek '  an'  git  to  sea  in  the  mid- 
watch,"  said  one  old  growler. 

"  Werry  good,"  answered  the  philosophical  Peter;  "  if 
them's  the  orders,  we  ups  it  an'  we  gits." 

"  But  wot's  the  use?"  continued  the  grumbler. 

"  Mos'ly  fur  to  see,"  answered  Peter,  "  whether  it  are 
the  ossifers  or  the  men  wot's  a-riuinin'  this  'ere  ship." 

"Waal,  I  think  it's  all  nonsense." 

"Keep  quiet  there,  and  mind  your  eye,"  said  George, 
who  had  just  come  up. 

"Bloomin1  young  popinjay,"  muttered  the  man  under 
his  breath. 

The  quarter-deck  awning  had  been  taken  down,  and 
George  was  having  it  carefully  rolled  around  the  steam- 
launch,  the  purpose  being  to  prevent  splinters  flying  in 
ease  she  was  hit  by  a  shot.  In  drills  aboard  a  man-of- 
war  everything  is  done  just  as  it  would  be  in  case  of  a  real 
action.  Awning  stanchions  were  taken  down,  and  also 
boat  davits,  where  they  could  be  spared,  and  stowed  'be- 
low. The  pumps  were  rigged  ready  to  do  what  they 
could  toward  keeping  the  water  out  of  the  ship  if  her  side 
were  pierced.  A  thousand  and  one  things  had  to  be 
done,  it  seemed,  to  remove  every  object  that  could  possi- 
bly interfere  with  the  effective  working  of  the  guns,  and 
to  secure  everything  that  might  get  adrift  in  the  course 
of  an  engagement.  The  men,  however,  had  been  well 
drilled,  the  petty  officers  knew  their  business,  and  the 
cadets  were  intelligent  and  thoroughly  trained.  In  a 
few  minutes  over  half  an  hour  the  Detroit  had  assumed 
the  appearance  of  a  man  who  lias  taken  off  bis  coat  and 
rolled  up  his  sleeves.  Down  in  the  fire-room  there  was 
considerable  work  yet  going  on,  for  clearing  ship  for  ac- 
tion embraces  getting  up  steam,  and  there  had  been  no 
fires  in  the  Detroit's  furnaces  for  some  time,  so  that  the 
boilers  were  cold.  When  all  0*1  deck  and  between  decks 
was  reported  ready  the  commanding  officer,  accompanied 
by  the  Executive  and  the  Navigator,  made  a  tour  of  in- 
spection. Little  indeed  was  there  that  could  escape  the 
experienced  eye  of  the  veteran  Brownson ;  but  both  our 
young  friends  won  his  silent  approval  of  the  thorough- 
ness with  which  their  work  had  been  done.  The  Com- 
mander's gaze  was  searching  and  businesslike,  but  he  was 
too  old  a  lover  of  the  sea  not  to  note  the  picturesque  fea- 
tures of  the  scene.  The  dim  light  of  the  newly  risen 
moon  fell  in  a  slanting  flood  of  yellow  through  the  sparse 
rigging,  and  made  a  thousand  strange  and  mystic  shadows 
on  the  deck.  It  threw  into  sharp  relief  the  sturdy  forms 
of  the  crew  as  they  mustered  at  their  stations  in  their 
white  working  suits.  It  lit  up  the  polished  backs  of  the 
guns  with  half-toned  splashes  of  light,  and  twinkled  soft- 
ly along  the  fife-rails  at  the  foot  of  the  masts.  Not  a 
sound  was  heard,  except  the  footfalls  of  the  inspecting 
officers  and  the  musical  babble  of  the  tide  around  the 
ship's  forefoot.  The  Captain  and  his  aids  passed  below 
to  see  that  the  magazines  and  engine-rooms  and  other  in- 
terior parts  of  the  ship  had  been  made  ready  according  to 
routine.  A  considerable  time  elapsed,  and  those  on  the 
spar-deck  knew  that  the  inspection  was  being  made  most 
thoroughly.  When  the  officers  returned  they  paused  be- 
fore the  cabin  door  and  conversed  for  a  few  moments  in 
low  tones.  Then  the  Executive  Officer  and  the  Navigator 
saluted  as  the  Captain  passed  into  his  cabin. 

"  Pipe  down."  said  Mr.  Crane. 


168 


HAEPER'S    YOUNG    PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


"WAS    IT    ONLY    A    DRILL?" 

The  shrill  whistle  of  the  hoatswaiii  once  more  broke 
the  silence,  its  strident  tones  this  time  ordering  the  ship's 
company  to  quit  stations  and  go  below.  Once  more  the 
decks  echoed  with  the  confused  trampling  of  feet,  and  all 
hands  except  the  anchor- watch  tumbled  down  the  hatch- 
ways. Once  between  decks  the  members  of  the  crew  com- 
mented on  the  evening's  exercises  in  their  own  character- 
istic ways. 

"Blow  me  fur  pickles,"  said  one  old  shell-back,  "ef 
that  there  ain't  the  fust  time  I  ever  seed  clearin'  ship 
done  in  harbor  in  the  fust  watch  jes  fur  fun." 

"  Er  anny  other  way,  either,  ole  blow-hard,"  said  Peter. 
"  You  never  seed  no  ship  cleared  fur  real  action." 

"Waal,  leastways  I'm  pertikler  glad,"  said  the  first 
speaker,  "  that  we  didn't  get  no  orders  to  secure." 

"We'll  have  to  do 't  in  the  moriiin'- watch,"  said  an- 
other. 

"  W'ich  the  same  I  don't  think,"  muttered  Peter,  under 
his  breath. 

All  conversation  among  the  bluejackets  was  cut  short 
by  the  mellow  notes  of  the  bugle  sounding  the  tattoo. 
The  silence  of  night  settled  down  over  the  ship,  and 
Jacky,  accustomed  to  taking  things  as  they  come,  speed- 
ily passed  into  the  happy  unconsciousness  of  a  dream- 
land which  was  one  wide  garden  of  tobacco  plants  wa- 
tered with  grog.  On  deck  the  men  in  the  anchor-watch 
continued  to  discuss  the  evening's  work  in  low  tones,  and 
the  officer  of  the  deck  paced  up  and  down  in  a  thought- 
ful mood.  Our  two  young  friends  were  about  to  turn 
in,  when  a  messenger  entered  the  room  and  said  that  the 
First  Lieutenant  would  like  to  see  Mr.  King  on  deck. 
The  boy  went  at  once,  and  Mr.  Crane  said  to  him, 

"Mr.  King,  I  want  you  to  undertake  a  rather  ticklish 
job." 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  said  Harold,  quietly. 

"You  are  to  go  in  a  boat  unarmed  and  reconnoitre 
the  disposition  of  the  rebel  fleet.  You  are  to  make  no 


resistance  if  attacked,  but 
are  to  escape,  of  course, 
if  you  can.  What  you 
are  to  try  most  earnest- 
ly to  do  is  to.  avoid  de- 
tection." 

"  Very  good,  sir." 
"  If  you  wish  any  as- 
sistance you  may  have 
it,  but  it  must  be  a  cadet. 
Officers  can't  be  spared 
just  now." 

"I  don't  know  that 
I  need  any  help,  sir,  but 
I'd  like  to  take  Mr.  Bris- 
comb  with  me,  and  Peter 
Morris  for  cockswain." 

The  request  was  grant- 
ed, and  in  a  few  min- 
utes the  five-oared  whale- 
boat  with  muffled  oars 
was  moving  silently 
away  from  the  ship. 
The  night  had  become 
cloudy,  and  was  intense- 
ly dark.  Under  Har- 
old'sdirection  the  whale- 
boat  proceeded  to  a  point 
above  the  anchorage  of 
the  insurgent  war-ships. 
The  tide  was  ebbing, 
and  the  boy  had  de- 
cided to  drift  down 
with  it,  pulling  a  stroke 
only  when  absolutely 
necessary.  The  plan 

was  successful.  In  deep  silence  the  boat  with  its  eight 
occupants  drifted  down  among  the  vessels,  and  Harold's 
trained  eye  noted  that  every  one  of  them  was  in  readi- 
ness for  an  early  move.  Yet  their  lookouts  seemed 
singularly  inattentive,  for  the  whale-boat  was  not  dis- 
covered. At  last  they  were  under  the  bow  of  the  Tra- 
jano,  and  George  incautiously  remarked, 
"This  beats  the  deck!" 

Instantly  a  rough  voice  shouted  something  in  Portu- 
guese from  the  forecastle  deck,  and  a  rifle  was  discharged, 
the  bullet  passing  through  the  boat's  rail. 

"Give  'way !"  commanded  Harold,  in  a  low  sharp  tone. 
The  tars  bent  to  the  oars,  and  their  boat  shot  out  into 
the  bay.      But  the  Trajano's  lightest  pulling  boat  was  in 
the  water,  and  as  the  whale-boat  moved  off  Peter  caught 
sight  of  dark  forms  tumbling  into  her. 
"They're  after  us,  sir,"  he  said. 
"Pull  heartily,  lads,"  said  Hal. 
"Here  they  come  right  astarn,"  said  Peter. 
All  hands  were  silent  for  a  few  minutes. 
"  Do  they  gain?"  asked  Hal. 

"I  don't  think  so,  sir,"  said  Peter.  "It  are  so  werry 
dark  I  can  hardly  tell.  But  I  reckon  we  ain't  a-gainin' 
either." 

Snap!  The  bow -oar  broke  off  just  above  the  blade. 
The  other  four  men  pulled  all  the  harder. 

"  That's  no  good,"  said  Hal.    "  Hard  a-starboard.  Peter." 
"  Hard  a-starboard  it  is,  sir,"  said  the  cockswain. 
After  a  dozen  strokes  had  been  pulled  Harold  ordered, 
"Oars!" 

The  men  ceased  rowing,  and  at  the  boy's  order  all 
hands  huddled  at  the  bottom  of  the  boat.  The  ruse  was 
successful.  The  cockswain  of  the  Brazilian  boat  lost  track 
of  them  in  the  darkness,  and  continued  to  steer  straight 
ahead. 

"They're  a-passin'!   they're  a-passin'!"  muttered  Peter. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


"SOLOMON"     OF    LONELY    PINES. 


BY     RICHARD     BARRY. 


UNCLE  PETER  stopped  one  morning  at  the  Eilsons' 
front  gate.      He  carried  a  basket  on  his  arm,  and  was 
talking  out  loud.     Uncle  Peter  always  talked  to  himself 
as  if  he  were  trying  to  convince  some  one  else. 

"  Yas,  sail,"  he  said,  "I  knows  dein  chilluu  '11  be  jes 
tickled  mos'  ter  def.''  He  closed  the  gate  after  him,  and 
then  lifted  the  lid  of  the  basket.  "  Yas,  sah,"  he  added, 
"  yo'  heah  me  talkiii' ;  jes  tickled  mos'  ter  def." 

Some  one  hailed  him  from  a  window  that  opened  out 
on  the  veranda.  "Hello,  Uncle  Peter!"  shouted  the 
voice.  ''  What  have  you  got  there?" 

"  Howdy,  young  marster,  howdy,"  replied  the  old  man, 
placing  the  basket  on  the  ground,  and  putting  his  foot  on 
the  lid.  "Come  out  hyar,  and  I'll  sho'  yo'  all  sumplin." 

In  a  moment  three  young  figures  darted  out  of  the 
open  front  door,  and  crowded  about  Uncle  Peter,  who 
bowed  to  each  one,  and  then  pointed  with  his  long  black 
finger,  and  asked,  impressively,  "  Wha-whad  yo'  all  s'pose 
I's  brung  in  dish  yer  basket;" 

"A  rabbit?"  said  Gracie. 

"No,  missy,"  replied  the  old  man;  ,"'tain't  no  rab- 
bit." 

A  faint  squeak  came  from  under  Uncle  Peter's  foot. 

"It's  alive,  whatever  it  is,"  broke  in  Harry.  "Let's 
have  a  peep,  Uncle  Peter." 

"I's  got  sumpfiii  hyar,"  continued  the  old  mail,  "dat's 
mentioned  in  de  Bible." 

"  What  is  it?"  chorussed  the  three  voices. 

For  answer  the  old  man  bent  over  and  lifted  the  lid. 
There  was  the  oddest,  fluffiest  little  ball  of  yellow  fur  you 
ever  saw.  It  made  a  clumsy  effort  to  climb  out  over  the 
edge  of  the  deep  basket,  only  to  fall  back  and  roll  over 
puppylike  on  its  feet  again.  It  was  a  tiny  baby  fox. 

"Jerus'lem    and    Eli   done   dug    him   outen   de   bank 
ovah  yander  dis  mawnin',"  said  Uncle  Peter,  "an'  seein' 
yo'  all  took  sech  a  pow'ful   fancy  fo'  Brabus,   I  'lowed 
yo'd  like  ter  'dopt    dis   yer  orfen — seeiu'  lie  'ain't 
got  no  home." 

"What  will  we  call  him?"  asked  Gracie. 

"I  dunno,"  replied  Uncle  Peter.  "  Might  call 
him  mos'  anythiii',  I  reckon.  I  spect  as  Solomon 
'd  be  a  good  name."  And  "Solomon"  he  was 
named  forthwith.  Now  "Brabus"  was  a  'coon 
that  had  been  adopted  on  a  recommendation  of 
Uncle  Peter  almost  a  year  previous  to  the  pre- 
sentation of  "Solomon."  His  cognomen  was  a 
suggestion  of  Uncle  Peter  also,  and  he  was  as  in- 
teresting a  thief  as  any  'coon  that  ever  sported  an 
inquisitive  nose  and  a  striped  tail.  At  present 
"  Brabus  "  was  confined  by  a  long  chain  to  an  old 
box  back  of  the  horse-shed. 

For  a  few  days  Solomon's  life  hung  in  the  bal- 
ance, and  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  care  that  was 
lavished  upon  him  by  his  three  little  guardians  this 
story  would  never  have  been  written.  When  once 
Solomon  obtained  a  foothold  on  existence,  however, 
his  sharp  little  teeth  began  to  be  painfully  appar- 
ent in  his  kittenish  play,  and  he  developed  as 
strongly  marked  characteristics  as  Brother  Brabus. 

At  first  the  two  pets  did  not  get  on  very  well  in 
each  other's  society,  and  were  confined  by  two 
chains  to  the  improvised  kennels  which  had  been 
built  for  them  back  of  the  chicken-house.  It  was 
a  very  funny  sight  to  see  them  stretch  their  chains 
and  face  one  another  at  the  distance  of  a  few  feet. 
But  Brabus  had  discovered  something.  If  there 
was  anything  he  could  not  reach  with  his  front 
paws,  he  would  turn  around  and  extend  his  little 
hind  feet  just  like  a  monkey,  and  thus  gain  a  longer 
reach.  To  make  them  more  friendly  the  children 


had  placed  the  platters  from  which  they  were  fed  quite  close 
together,  and  Brabus  had  found  out  that  by  executing  a 
sudden  "about,  face,"  and  making  one  grab  with  his 
back  paw,  lie  could  secure  a  good  part  of  Solomon's  din- 
ner. 

Mrs.  Edson,  in  fact  the  whole  family  'were  very  fond 
of  their  chickens.  Grandpa  had  sent  them  down  what 
he  called  a  "  clutch  of  eggs  "  from  New  England,  which 
had  turned  into  great  Hat-footed  Cochin -Chinas,  with 
feathered  legs,  and  an  awkward  sort  of  dignity.  Some 
other  eggs  had  developed  into  a  species  of  chicken  quite 
rare  in  the  South — "top-knots"  they  are  called,  for  their 
feathers  parted  011  the  top  of  their  heads  like  chrysanthe- 
mums. About  the  time  that  the  Cochin -Chinas  were 
trying  to  crow,  and  their  voices  were  changing  from  an 
uncertain  treble  to  a  melodious  barytone,  Solomon  be- 
gan to  look  guilty  when  the  children  visited  him  in  the 
morning.  Brabus  assumed  an  air  of  indifference,  and  had 
stopped  stealing  Solomon's  dinner.  Their  appetites  seem- 
ed to  have  fallen  off,  and  yet  each  looked  sleek  and  happy. 
Strange  to  say,  a  few  of  the  Cochin -Chinas  had  disap- 
peared, and  only  three  or  four  of  the  topknots  were  left 
to  air  their  individuality  in  the  chicken-yard.  Of  course 
it  seems  that  any  right-minded  chicken  would  have  sense 
enough  to  keep  away  from  a  real  live  fox  or,  for  that 
matter,  from  a  real  live  'coon,  and  the  idea  of  anything 
being  foolish  enough  to  deliberately  walk  into  the  jaws 
of  death  was  contrary  to  the  laws  of  nature,  thought 
Mr.  Edsoii.  Besides,  they  had  never  seen  any  traces  of 
forbidden  feasts  about  the  kennels.  So  they  gave  Brabus 
and  Solomon  the  benefit  of  the  doubt.  One  day,  how- 
ever, Solomon  looked  more  suspicious  than  ever,  and  two 
or  three  little  feathers  were  seen  about  the  corners  of  his 
mouth.  Brabus  pretended  to  be  asleep,  though  in  talk- 
ing it  over  afterwards  Harry  insisted  that  he  had  winked 
at  Solomon  when  Gracie  put  down  the  scraps.  The 


•PLEASE    DON'T    COME   IN. ..  .SOLOMON'S    IN    HERE." 


170' 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


chains  by  this  time  had  been  lengthened,  and  they  both 
fed  amicably  together.  But  they  were  growing  fastidi- 
ous; they  turned  up  their  noses  at  bits  of  bread;  they 
refused  ginger-snaps,  and  even  a  soup-bone  was  left  un- 
touched. 

It  was  about  this  time  th.at  the  plotters  were  discover- 
ed. Harry,  coming  about  the  corner  of  the  chicken-yard, 
was  impressed  by  the  queer  actions  of  little  "  Bre'r  'Coon  " ; 
he  lay  on  the  ground  at  the  full  length  of  his  chain, 
huddled  up  in  the  dust,  for  all  the  world  like  an  old  hen. 
Strutting  near  him  were  a  number  of  unconscious  chick- 
ens, scattering  dirt  aimlessly  about  and  clucking  noisily, 
as  chickens  will  do  to  amuse  themselves,  and  to  fool  all 
other  chickens  into  thinking  they  are  having  a  good 
time.  Suddenly  one  young  broiler  strutted  near  the 
quite  dusty  gray -brown  figure;  there  was  a  sudden 
start,  a  squeak,  and  the  little  rooster  dodged  ;  Bar-bus 
had  missed  him.  But  evidently  the  little  rooster  had 
forgotten  all  about  Solomon,  for  with  a  frightened  little 
squall  he  came  inside  the  fatal  circle;  there  was  a  spring, 
a  flutter  of  feathers,  and  Solomon  had  him.  Barbus, 
discomfited,  lay  down  again,  and  only  the  tip  of  Solo- 
mon's tail  could  be  seen  at  the  door  of  the  kennel.  But 
what  a  sight  there  was  when  Harry  looked  inside  into 
the  corner  of  the  big  packing  boxes  which  served  as 
shelter  for  the  two  bandits!  Bones,  chicken  feathers, 
legs  —  ali  the  evidences  of  previous  feasts  were  there. 
But  whv  not  on  the  outside?  That's  the  question  that  is 
still  unanswered.  Brabus  may  have  put  Solomon  up  to 
the  trick,  or  Solomon  have  taught  it  to  the  little  striped 
tail;  but  which  of  the  two  was  the  instigator  has  never 
been  found  out.  Perhaps  it  was  because  there  were  oth- 
er bones  lying  around  and  plenty  of  feathers  that  the 
crimes  had  not  attracted  attention  before  ;  but,  never- 
theless, almost  all  of  the  Cochin -Chinas  and  topknots 
were  accounted  for  in  the  hidden  evidences  of  the  pre- 
vious orgies.  So  the  two  villains  were  walled  off  from 
temptation  by  a  fence  of  iron  netting. 

Now  Solomon  had  grown  up;  he  was  no  longer  a  pet, 
and  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  children's  interceding  he 
would  probably  have  made  a  nice  floor  rug  for  the  little 
room  where  Mrs.  Edson  kept  the  parlor  melodeon.  It 
may  have  been  that  Solomon  detected  this  half-formed 
resolution  in  the  eye  of  the  Rev.  Edson  one  day  when  he 
had  strolled  back  into  the  chicken-yard;  but,  at  any  rate, 
the  next  morning  he  was  gone.  He  had  snapped  the 
chain  off  close  to  the  collar,  taken  one  more  Cochin- 
China  along,  and  had  departed. 

Brabus  was  disconsolate;  but  he  made  believe  that  he 
had  known  nothing  about  the  affair,  and  affected  sur- 
prise at  Solomon's  absence.  To  tell  the  truth,  even  the 
little  Edsons  were  relieved  to  find  that  they  had  no  longer 
to  make  excuses  for  the  latter's  short-comings  and  for 
Brabus's  over-reachings,  for  three  or  four  days  after  that 
Brabus  died— of  a  "broken  heart,"  Gracie  had  insisted, 
but  really  from  the  effects  of  getting  his  collar  caught 
in  the  twisted  chain,  and  mistaking  his  right  paw  for 
his  left  when  he  tried  to  unwind  himself.  Of  course 
suicide  may  be  hinted  at  in  this  case,  but  Brabus  I  do 
think  had  no  intention  of  cutting  short  a  rather  easy 
existence. 

Two  or  three  months  had  gone  by.  The  Virginia 
scenery  was  growing  very  desolate;  the  leaves  had  fall- 
en from  the  oak-trees  or  rattled  stiffly  on  the  half-bare 
branches  ;  a  slight  fall  of  snow  had  melted  under  the 
hot  sun,  the  roads  were  muddy,  and  winter  had  set  in. 
It  was  not  the  winter  of  the  North,  but  a  Virginia  win- 
ter. It  was  not  too  cold,  and  the  colored  people  were 
still  cheerful  and  happy.  The  year  had  been  a  good 
one  for  the  cotton  crop,  game  had  been  plentiful,  and 
it  is  always  best  to  be  contented.  But,  as  I  have  said 
before,  there  was  a  great  deal  of  sameness  at  Lonely 
Pines,  and  the  children  found  this  to  bear  rather  heavily 


on  them.  Christmas,  of  course,  had  helped  to  break  the 
monotony;  there  were  new  dolls,  new  books,  and  a  small 
rifle  for  Henry;  and  New-Year's  day  had  come  along  in 
the  course  of  events,  as  New -Year's  day  does  always 
come,  with  a  shock  of  surprise  and  a  strange-looking 
date.  But  this  New- Year's  day  the  little  Edsons  will 
never  forget.  The  sameness  was  broken,  and  they  went 
through  a  real  adventure. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  on  the  1st  of  January,  the  bay- 
ing of  hounds  was  heard  stealing  up  on  the  crisp  clear 
air;  nearer  it  came,  and  nearer,  now  and  then  faint,  now 
and  then  louder,  but  always  nearer. 

"It's  de  Holly  boys,"  said  old  Uncle  Peter,  who  had 
stopped  to  chat  with  the  little  Edsons;  "  and  dey're  head- 
ing up  de  creek  shure  'nuff ;  dey'll  cross  the  medder  over 
yander  jes  whar  dose  old  stumps  are;  you  hear  me  talk?"' 

He  hobbled  down  the  road,  and  the  children  climbed 
upon  the  fence  and  listened.  It  was  very  plain  now;  they 
could  almost  hear  the  individual  voices  of  the  hounds, 
when  suddenly,  out  from  the  old  field,  just  where  the 
two  stumps  showed  black  above  the  cotton  stalks,  ap- 
peared a  reddish-gray  shape  that  slunk  along  close  to  the 
fence,  then  darted  out  across  the  field.  It  was  a  fox. 
His  tail  was  sweeping  the  ground,  and  even  from  where 
the  children  sat  they  could  see  his  long  red  tongue  dan- 
gling from  the  corner  of  his  mouth;  he  was  very  tired- 
poor  Mr.  Reynard— and  the  hounds  were  close  upon  him. 
He  cast  a  glance  over  his  shoulder,  turned  short  about, 
skirted  along  a  thicket  of  brambles,  and  came  directly 
toward  the  yard.  Just  then  the  first  hound  jumped  into 
sight,  and  after  him  another,  and  then  another,  until  the 
whole  pack  crossed  the  field;  beyond  them  could  be  seen 
the  bobbing  heads  of  a  few  horses  and  the  lifting  shoul- 
ders of  the  riders  as  they  cleared  the  fences.  But  what 
was  this!  the  poor  hunted  creature  was  headed  directly 
toward  them,  and  Harry  had  jumped  from  his  position. 

"  Gracie!"  he  shouted,  "  it's  Solomon  !   it's  Solomon  !" 

Sure  enough;  around  the  fox's  neck  was  a  worn  leather 
collar  with  brass  nail-heads  encircling  it,  and  a  little  bit 
of  dangling  chain. 

"Solomon!"  he  shouted,  and  the  fox  kept  straight 
ahead. 

He  jumped  the  fence  into  the  yard,  within  a  few  feet 
of  the  children,  and  they  trotted  alongside  of  him  as  he 
turned  behind  the  house;  he  was  too  tired  to  show  any 
recognition.  He  was  heading  for  his  kennel;  but  when 
he  got  there— not  like  old  Mother  Hubbard's  dog,  "the 
cupboard  was  bare" — the  kennel  was  gone!  Despair 
showed  in  every  line  of  poor  Solomon's  face.  The 
dogs  were  almost  in  the  yard,  when,  with  a  sudden  im- 
pulse, Harry  clutched  the  tired  fox  by  the  collar,  and 
with  the  two  little  girls,  dragged  him  inside  the  door  of 
the  chicken-house,  not  a  moment  too  soon,  for  the  fore- 
most hound  rounded  the  corner  of  the  shed  and  almost 
squeezed  through  the  crack.  Harry  threw  his  weight 
upon  the  door  and  succeeded  in  closing  it.  Lola  began 
to  cry,  and  Gracie  appeared  frightened;  the  chickens 
flew  all  around  their  heads;  they  squalled  and  shrieked 
and  lost  all  presence  of  mind,  as  chickens  will,  and  out- 
side the  dogs  bayed  and  howled  as  if  they  had  treed  their 
game  at  last,  and  were  balked  and  felt  mad  about  it. 
Solomon  lay  upon  the  ground,  panting  so  hard  that  he 
rocked  back  and  forth  very  much  the  way  a  very  am- 
bitious little  fire-engine  does  when  called  upon  to  do  its 
best.  Pretty  soon  voices  and  a  few  sharp  yelps  were 
heard  outside,  and  a  man  with  a  whip  came  up  and  tried 
the  door. 

"Hello!"  he  said. 

"  Please  don't  come  in,"  said  three  pleading  voices. 
"  Solomon's  in  here." 

A  laugh  was  the  answer,  and  the  other  voices  joined. 
After  some  explanation  the  dogs  were  withdrawn,  and 
Solomon,  looking  very  crest-fallen  and  tired,  was  released 


JANUARY  1,  1S9S 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


171 


and  told  to  go.  This  he  refused  to  do  for  some  time. 
Finally  he  did  leave,  however,  but  it  must  be  confessed 
that  he  did  so  quite  reluctantly,  and  after  having  a  rest 
of  three  or  four  hours,  he  trotted  off,  glancing  now  and 
then  over  his  shoulder  as  if  he  expected  a  word  to  bring 
him  back. 

Three  weeks  had  passed  and  he  made  his  party  call. 
He  did  not  leave  any  word  for  the  family,  but  a  flue 
black  topknot  went  off  with  him.  Of  course  the  Ed- 
sons  could  never  be  sure  of  this,  and  the  only  reason  for 
supposing1  that  he  took  the  topknot  was  that  the  next 
week  Jerusalem,  Uncle  Peter's  boy,  shot  a  fox  who  was 
making  off  with  a  Cochin-China,  and  if  a  Cochin-China, 
why  not  a  topknot?  The  fox  had  a  collar  around  his 
neck.  Poor  Solomon  was  not  wise  in  his  generation. 


THE  STRANGE 


ADVENTURES  OF  TOMMY 
TODDLES. 


BY    ALBERT    LBB. 
CHAPTER  III. 

TOMMY  TODDLES  and  his  companion,  the  Sheep,  had  ad- 
vanced but  a  short  distance  into  the  woods  wben  the  little 
boy  thought  he  heard  some  one  laughing  very  loud  and  heartily, 
apparently  at  no  great  distance  from  them.  He  paused  a  mo- 
ment to  listen,  and  when  tbe  sounds  of  laughter  were  repeated 
be  touched  the  Sheep  on  tbe  shoulder  and  they  both  stopped. 

"  Did  you  bear  that  t"  said  Tommy. 

"  Yes." 

"Some  one  is  laughing;  let's  go  and  ask  about  the  animals." 

"Don't  ask  him,"  exclaimed  tbe  Sheep  in  atone  of  deep  scorn  ; 
"  he  wouldn't  know." 

"  Why,  who  is  it?"  asked  tbe  little  boy. 

"That's  the  Loon.  He's  crazy,"  and  the  Sheep  started  on 
down  the  road  again. 

"But  he  might  have  seen  tbe  animals  even  if  be  is  crazy," 
persisted  Tommy.  "  Let  us  go  and  ask  him,  anyway." 

The  Sheep  asserted  that  this  would  be  an  utterly  useless  pro- 
ceeding and  an  absolute  waste  of  time;  but  Tommy  finally  per- 
suaded him  to  make  tbe  attempt  at  least,  and  so  they  turned  off 
from  tbe  main  road  and  plunged  into  a  thicket  out  of  which  tbe 
sounds  of  laughter  appeared  to  come.  As  they  broke  their  way 
through  the  bushes  tbe  noise  of  the  Loou's  laughter  grew  plainer 
and  plainer.  Presently  the  thick  growth  of  underbrush  opened 
up  into  a  sort  of  clearing  surrounded  by  tall  trees,  and  reaching 
down  on  the  further  side  to  the  edge  of  a  lake.  Near  the  shore 
stood  the  Loon,  and  when  Tommy  first  caught  sight  of  him  he 
thought  he  was  the  most  solemn-looking  bird  he  had  ever  seen. 
He  was  standing  beside  a  tree  truuk  which  looked  very  much 
like  a  butcher's  block,  and  every  few  minutes  he  placed  some 
imaginary  or  invisible  object  on  tbe  top  of  the  trunk,  and  then 
struck  it  vigorously  with  a  large  hammer  which  he  held.  After 
every  blow  tbe  Loon  lifted  up  bis  head  aud  laughed  as  if  there 
bad  never  been  anything  so  funny. 

"  You  see,  he's  crazy,"  said  the  Sheep,  deprecatiugly. 

"What  is  he  doing?"  asked  Tommy. 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  ;  he's  just  crazy." 

"Well,  you  ask  him  if  be  has  seen  tbe  animals,"  for  by  this 
time  the  two  had  approached  quite  close  to  tbe  Loon,  who,  bow- 
ever,  seemed  to  be  quite  unconscious  of  their  presence. 

"  Ba-ali !"  said  the  Sheep. 

"Quack!"  said  tbe  Loou. 

"  How  d'ye  do?"  said  Tommy. 

And  then  the  Loon  brought  bis  hammer  down  bard  ou  tbe 
block  aud  laughed  as  though  his  sides  would  split. 

"  Have  yon  seen  the  animals?"  asked  the  Sheep. 

"  No,"  answered  the  Loon,  briefly,  and  then  he  pounded  tbe 
block  again. 

After  the  laughter  had  subsided,  Tommy  spoke.  "  Have  not 
you  seen  my  animals  go  by  here,  Mr.  Loou  V 

"Not  an  animal,"  responded  the  bird.  "I  have  been  too 
busy." 

"  What  are  you  doing  ?"  asked  Tommy. 

"Can't  you  see  what  I'm  doing?"  snapped  tbe  Loon;  ''I'm 
cracking  jokes,"  and  he  brought  the  hammer  down  once  more 
with  a  vigorous  blow. 


"Cracking  jokes?"  repeated  Tommy,  in  a  tone  of  surprise. 
"  Yes — cracking  jokes." 
"  But  where  are  the  jokes  ?" 

"The  jokes  are  on  the  block,"  replied  the  Loon. 
"I  don't  see  any  jokes,"  and  Tommy  looked  closely  at   the 
beaten  top  of  tbe  tree  trunk. 

"  I  did  not  suppose  you  could,"  retorted  tbe  Loon.  "  You  are 
as  stupid  ns  all  the  rest.  No  one  ever  sees  my  jokes."  Where- 
upon he  rapped  tbe  block  again  and  fairly  shrieked  with  merri- 
ment. 

"  He  is  crazy,"  said  Tommy,  turning  to  tbe  Sheep. 
"I  told  you  so,"  answered  tbe  latter,  triumphantly.     "Let  us 
leave  him  alone  with  his  jokes,  and  go  up  to  the  head  of  tbe 
lake.     They'll  know  up  there." 

They  did  not  even  say  good-by  to  the  Loon  as  they  made 
their  way  out  of  tbe  clearing,  for  the  bird  was  not  paying  any 
attention  to  them.  They  turned  into  a  narrow  path  that  led 
off  in  tbe  direction  of  the  lake,  and  then  followed  along  the 
shore.  It  was  a  very  pretty  lake,  with  trees  growing  down 
close  to  the  water,  and  Tommy  wondered  that  lie  and  his  Uncle 
Dick  had  never  discoverd  it  before.  As  they  trudged  along, 
jumping  over  fallen  logs  now  and  then,  they  could  hear  the 
Loon's  laughs  growing  fainter  and  fainter  in  the  distamT 

Presently  they  came  to  a  low  poiut  of  land  that  jutted  out 
into  tbe  water,  and  when  they  had  walked  out  to  the  end  of  it 
Tommy  noticed  a  queer-looking  building  standing  in  an  open 
space  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away  at  tbe  head  of  the  lake. 
It  was  a  two-storied  house  with  a  shingled  roof,  and  any  quan- 
tity of  windows  in  the  sides.  The  most  peculiar  thing,  bow- 
ever,  was  that  the  side  of  the  bouse  fronting  the  hike  was 
painted  white,  and  one  end  of  the  building  was  painted  blue, 
and  the  other  end  was  painted  red.  The  little  boy,  of  course, 
could  not  see  the  fourth  side,  aud  he  wondered  what  color  that 
was.  He  looked  at  tbe  strange  building  as  they  advanced,  and 
in  a  few  moments  said  to  the  Sheep, 
"  What  is  that  house  f 
"Tbe  Poor  House,"  answered  the  Sheep. 

"  I  never  knew  of  a  Poor  House  around  here,"  said  Tommy,  as 
he  gazed  at  the  queer  structure.  "  Is  there  any  one  in  it  ?" 

"Only  two  poor  people,"  answered  bis  companion,  "  but  they 
are  both  rerij  poor  " 
"Who  are  they?" 

"One  is  an  ex-Pirate,  and  the  other  is  a  Reformed  Burglar." 
"A  Pirate  and  a  Burglar!"  exclaimed  Tommy.     "I  did  not 
know  there  were  any  more  pirates." 

"There  aren't,"  replied  the  Sheep,  testily.  "I  said  an  ex- 
Pirate.  He  was  driven  out  of  the  business." 

Tommy  was  a  little  abashed  by  the  Sheep's  tone,  but  after  a 
brief  pause  he  resumed, 
"  Is  be  a  real  Pirate  ?" 
"He  was,"  answered  tbe  Sheep. 

"Aud  what  does  he  do  now?"  continued  the  little  boy. 
"  He  is  very  poor  now." 

"I  thought  all  pirates  got  rich,"  persisted  Tommy. 
"They  did.     Some  got  rich  aud  some  got  killed.     This  Pirate 
got  rich." 

"  But  you  just  said  he  was  poor,"  objected  the  little  boy. 
"He  is  now,"  answered  the  Sheep.  "You  see,  wben  things 
got  into  such  a  state  that  tbe  pirate  business  was  no  longer 
profitable,  this  one  sold  his  ship  and  all  bis  hidden  gold  and 
retired.  Then  he  started  in  to  write  poetry,  and  now  he's  in 
the  Poor  House." 

Tommy  could  not  quite  follow  this  explanation,  but  he 
thought  it  must  be  all  right,  and  as  they  walked  along  he  tried, 
although  without  any  very  gratifying  success,  to  think  it  out. 
After  a  while  be  said, 

"  Does  tbe  ex-Pirate  still  write  poetry  ?" 

"Yes,"  answered  tbe  Sheep,  "  but  he's  so  poor  now  that  it  does 
not  make  any  difference." 

"And  the  Burglar  ?"  asked  Tommy. 
"  Oh,  he's  very  good  now  ;  he  has  reformed  entirely." 
"  Does  not  he  steal  any  more  ?" 

"  No.  And,  besides,  there  is  nothing  to  steal  at  the  Poor 
House." 

"  What  does  be  do  then  ?" 

"He  does  not  do  anything  but  paint  the  Poor  House.  Since 
his  reform  he  has  become  a  good  man  and  a  patriotic  citizen, 
raid  jin  lie  paints  the  bouse  red,  white, and  bine.  He  paiuts  one 
side  every  day,  so  that  every  fourth  day  tbe  sides  have  a  differ- 
ent color." 

"He  must  use  an  awful  lot  of  paint,"  thought  Tommy, 
by  this  time  tbe  two  bad  gotten  almost  up  to  the  house,  aud  tbe 


172 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


"HE    IH   CKAZY,"   .SAID    TOMMY. 

little  boy  could  set'  the  Refurinoil  Burglar  in  a  pair  of  overalls, 
with  a  pot  of  red  paiut  iu  bis  baud,  paiuting  one  eud  of  the 
house. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


THE     LITTLE     RED     BOOK. 

BY    ELLEN    DOUGLAS    DELAND. 


CHAPTER  V. 

T)ERTHA'S  news  spread  like  wildfire  among  the  girls, 
_L)  making  them  quite  forget  the  wig  episode,  and  at 
school  the  next  day  almost  every  one  knew  it  but  Eleanor 
herself.  Madge  was  approached  upon  the  subject,  and 
asked  if  it  were  true.  She  could  not  deny  the  story,  and 
of  course,  in  consequence,  the  report  gained  ground,  and 
soon  became  an  accepted  fact,  but  as  yet  Eleanor  had  no 
suspicion  of  what  was  being  said. 

The  18th  of  April  was  Madge's  birthday,  and  she  was 
to  celebrate  it  as  usual  by  giving  a  party.  No  sooner, 
therefore,  were  the  theatricals  a  thing  of  the  past  than  the 
party  came  to  the  front  as  a  matter  of  interest  and  excite- 
ment. 

The  invitations  were  most  mysteriously  worded: 

"Miss  Margaret  Barnes  requests  the  pleasure  of  your 
company  at  an  Arbutus  Party,  Saturday,  April  the  eigh- 
teenth, at  three  o'clock. 

"  '  Ride  and  Tie.'     Walking  dress. 

"R.  S.  V.  P." 

What  could  it  be!  Always  before  this  Madge  had 
given  an  ordinary  party,  at  which  they  all  danced  on  the 
lawn,  ate  ice-cream,  and  enjoyed  themselves  in  a  com- 
monplace though  delightful  manner.  Of  course  this 
must  mean  that  they  were  to  go  in  search  of  the  trailino- 


arbutus  that  grew  in  pro- 
fusion about  five  miles 
from  Durham.  But 
"Ride  and  Tie!"  What 
did  those  mystic  words 
signify? 

The  invitations  came 
out  a  day  or  two  after 
the  theatricals,  and  for 
the  moment  speculation 
ceased  about  Mrs.  Rogers 
and  Eleanor,  and  that 
about  the  party  took  its 
place.  But  all  the  ques- 
tions in  the  world  could 
not  drag  from  Madge  any 
clew  to  the  meaning  of 
"Ride  and  Tie,  "and  Elea- 
nor, who  was  in  the 
secret,  was  equally  obdu- 
rate. 

At  last  the  wished-for 
Saturday  arrived,  and  for- 
tunately it  dawned  bright 
and  clear.  The  spring 
sun  was  warm,  but  there 
was  a  delicious  breeze  and 
a  freshness  in  the  air  that 
made  it  a  joy  to  be  out  of 
doors. 

Saturday  morning  was 
Eleanor's  favorite  time 
of  the  whole  week,  for 
her  mother  was  at  home 
then,  and  they  could 

enjoy  the  rare  pleasure  of  being  together.  They  were 
sitting  in  the  little  library,  the  windows  of  which 
commanded  the  view  across  the  valley,  for  the  house 
was  011  a  hill,  as  most  of  the  Durham  houses  were.  Mrs. 
Rogers  was  sewing,  and  Eleanor  was  on  a  low  stool  at 
her  feet,  idly  looking  out  of  the  window  as  she  leaned 
against  her  mother's  knee. 

"All  the  girls  are  furious  with  Bertha  for  pulling  off 
my  wig,  mamma,"  she  said,  presently.  "  I  wonder  what 
makes  her  act  so  to  me  ?  We  used  to  be  good  enough 
friends." 

"I  am  afraid  it  is  jealousy,  Eleanor.  Bertha  needs  a 
friend  very  much,  and  she  probably  thinks  that  you  mo- 
nopolize Madge." 

"  But  Madge  and  I  have  always  been  friends." 
"  I  know,  dear,  but  I  think  you  could  be  kinder  to 
Bertha  if  you  were  to  try.  She  knows  that  you  and 
Madge  take  her  up  and  drop  her  just  as  it  happens  to 
please  you,  and  she  resents  it,  I  suppose,  and  as  she  wants 
to  be  intimate  with  Madge  especially,  she  visits  her  dis- 
pleasure 011  you.  I  think  you  should  remember  that  Ber- 
tha has  had  a  sad  life,  poor  child!  It  is  very  hard  for  a 
girl  to  be  left  without  a  mother." 

"I  know  that,  dear,  darling  mamma,"  said  Eleanor, 
hugging  her  mother  as  she  spoke.  "We  ought  to  be 
kinder  to  Bertha  for  that  reason,  if  nothing  else.  What 
should  I  do  if  I  had  no  mother!  Why,  mamma,  it  makes 
me  ache  all  over  just  to  think  of  it.  But  Bertha  seems 
to  have  something  on  her  mind  about  me,  she  looks  at 
me  so  strangely,  and  several  times  she  and  some  of  the 
others  have  been  talking  together  and  stopped  as  soon  as 
I  joined  them,  just  as  if  il  were  about  me.  And  yet  I 
know  they  were  all  very  mad  about  the  wig,  for  they  all 
told  me  so." 

"Probably  you  imagined  that  they  were  talking  about 
you.  I  thought  so  myself  the  other  day  when  I  went 
into  the  literature  class  a  few  minutes  earlier  than  usual. 
They  had  all  been  talking  very  fast,  and  suddenly  stopped 


JANUARY  1,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


173 


short,  but  I  suppose  it  was  merely  because  they  were  sur- 
prised to  see  me  so  early." 

"I  wonder  where  that  boy  is  going  ?"  said  Eleanor, 
presently.  "  I  have  beeu  watching  him  all  along  Deane 
Street,  and  now  he  has  turned  the  corner  and  is  coming 
up  tliis  way." 

"  You  have  a  great  deal  of  village  curiosity,  my  dear 
child,"  said  her  mother,  laughing.  "Fancy  wanting  to 
know  the  object  of  every  boy  who  chances  to  stray  past 
the  house!" 

"  But  I  have  a  feeling  about  that  boy,"  persisted  Elea- 
nor. "From  the  moment  I  caught  sight  of  him  I  grew 
interested  in  him,  and,  yes,  mamma,  he  is  turning  in  here, 
and  he  lias  a  book  and  a  letter  in  his  hand.  It  is  a  tele- 
gram, mamma!" 

Mrs.  Rogers  started  from  her  chair.  "  A  telegram!  I 
trust  it  is  not  bad  news.  Run,  Eleanor,  and  get  it!" 

With  trembling  fingers  she  tore  open  the  envelope. 

"Your  Grandmother  Rogers  is  very  ill, "she  said,  "and 
they  have  sent  for  me  to  come.  I  must  go  at  once,  Elea- 
nor. Come,  help  me  to  get  ready." 

"Shall  I  give  up  the  party?"  asked  Eleanor,  as  she 
flew  about,  packing  her  mother's  bag,  and  getting  out 
her  bonnet. 

"No,  it  does  not  seem  necessary  for  you  to  do  that.  I 
should  be  sorry  to  deprive  you  of  it.  You  will  be  lonely 
enough,  dear,  I  am  afraid.  You  might  spend  to-night  at 
Mrs.  "Barnes's,  if  she  would  like  to  have  you,  and  ask 
Madge  to  come  here  to-morrow  night.  Old  Catherine 
will  take  care  of  you,  and  I  know  I  can  trust  you.  I 
hope  to  get  back  Monday.  But  you  must  send  word  to 
my  classes,  Eleanor,  that  I  am  called  away,  and  cannot 
tell  when  I  shall  return.  What  o'clock  is  it  now*  Eleven, 
and  I  shall  just  have  time  to  make  the  eleven-fifteen  to 
town,  and  get  the  twelve-o'clock  train  to  Baltimore.  I 
think  there  is  one  then.  Good-by,  darling!  Take  good 
care  of  yourself." 

"Oh,  mamma,  how  I  hate  to  have  you  leave  me!" 
cried  Eleanor,  as  she  threw  her  arms  about  her  mother. 
"  It  seems  as  if  the  world  were  coming  to  an  end  when 
you  go  away  from  me." 

And  then  Mrs.  Rogers  hurried  off,  and  Eleanor  was  left 
to  make  the  best  of  the  matter.  First  she  wrote  the  notes 
to  the  various  classes,  cancelling  her  mother's  engage- 
ments. Although  so  young,  Eleanor  knew  all  about 
Mrs.  Rogers's  business  affairs,  for  the  two  had  grown  to 
depend  very  much  upon  each  other,  and  she  was  quite 
equal  now  to  the  emergency,  and  knew  just  what  to  do. 

Then  she  went  to  see  Madge,  to  tell  her  of  her  mother's 
unexpected  departure,  and  to  ask  if  she  might  spend  the 
night  there  after  the  party.  To  this  Mrs.  Barnes  and 
Madge  agreed  with  pleasure,  and  then  Eleanor,  declining 
their  invitation  to  luncheon,  went  home  again  to  prepare 
for  the  afternoon. 

It  seemed  very  strange  without  her  mother,  for  al- 
though she  was  away  so  much,  to-day  it  had  a  very  dif- 
ferent feeling.  Eleanor  supposed  it  was  because  it  was 
Saturday,  and  on  that  day  she  and  her  mother  were  al- 
ways together. 

Whatever  the  reason,  she  felt  very  lonely.  She  was 
sorry,  too,  about  her  grandmother.  She  wondered  if  she 
were  'going  to  die.  And  oh,  how  she  did  hope  that  no- 
thing would  prevent  her  mother  from  returning  on  Mon- 
day ! 

At  three  o'clock  fifteen  boys  and  girls  had  assembled 
on  Mrs.  Barnes's  broad  piazza.  Presently  Madge  pro- 
duced a  little  covered  basket,  from  which  floated  narrow 
ribbons  of  various  colors,  each  with  a  little  silver  pin 
stuck  through  it. 

"Choose  your  favorite  color,"  she  said  to  them  all, 
"and  learn  your  fate." 

This  was  most  exciting,  and  when  the  ribbons  were 
chosen  and  drawn  forth  a  card  was  found  attached  to  the 


other  end,  with  a  sprig  of  arbutus  daintily  painted  upon 
one  corner,  and  a  little  pen-and-ink  sketch  in  the  centre. 

Upon  examination  the  drawings  upon  the  various 
cards  were  found  to  consist  of  only  two  varieties.  They 
represented  either  a  funny  old-fashioned  chaise,  with  two 
people  driving  in  it,  in  quaint  hat  and  sunbonnet,  or  the 
same  two  people  were  depicted  as  walking,  leaving  the 
horse  and  chaise  tied  to  a  tree. 

Of  course  there  was  a  vast  amount  of  curiosity  as  to 
what  these  pictures  signified,  and  Ruth  Barnes  explained 
the  matter. 

"In  old  times,"  she  said,  "it  was  the  custom,  when 
several  people  had  a  long  road  to  travel,  and  only  one 
horse  to  ride  or  one  buggy  to  drive  in,  for  one  to  start  off 
first  on  the  horse,  ride  a  certain  distance,  and  then  tie 
him  and  walk  on.  The  other  person  would  walk  until 
he  came  to  the  nag,  mount  him  and  ride,  pass  his  friend, 
and  then  in  turn  leave  the  horse  tied  for  the  friend  to 
take.  It  was  called  'ride  and  tie.'  So  this  afternoon  we 
are  going  to  do  very  much  the  same  thing.  We  thought 
a  ten-mile  walk  would  be  almost  too  much  to  attempt,  so 
we  are  going  in  a  three  seated  carriage.  Those  who  chose 
cards  that  have  the  people  in  the  buggy  drawn  upon 
them  will  be  the  first  to  drive,  while  those  with  the  peo- 
ple walking  will  have  to  go  on  foot  until  they  come  up 
with  the  carriage." 


•IT    ISN'T    TRUE.      THERE'S  NOT    A    WORD    OF    TRUTH    IN    IT.1 


174 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVL 


Every  one  thought  this  the  most  perfect  and  the  most 
novel  idea  that  had  ever  been  heard  of.  At  this  moment 
a  large  three-seated  vehicle  from  the  livery  stable,  drawn 
by  Mrs.  Barnes's  handsome  horses,  came  up  to  the  door, 
and  Uien  there  was  a  general  rush  to  see  who  were  to  be 
the  first  to  drive. 

It  was  found  that  Eleanor,  Bertha,  May  Brewster,  and 
Grace  Adams  were  the  girls,  while  four  of  the  boys  filled 
the  remaining  seats.  Ruth  and  Madge  Barnes  were  both 
of  the  walking  party. 

After  strict  injunctions  to  Thomas,  the  coachman,  that 
he  was  not  to  drive  beyond  a  certain  distance,  the  car- 
riage started,  the  walking  party  cheering  them  as  they 
drove  off,  and  presently  they  themselves  set  out,  each 
with  the  pretty  card  pinned  to  the  shoulder  by  the  little 
silver  pin. 

Madge  was  sorry  that  Eleanor  and  Bertha  were  of  the 
same  party.  But  nothing  could  be  done  about  it,  and  she 
was  obliged  to  content  herself  with  squeezing  Eleanor's 
hand  and  whispering,  "Don't  mind  anything  Bertha 
says!" 

Bertha  could  not  hear  the  words,  but  she  saw  the  action, 
and  in  consequence  all  her  ire  against  Eleanor  was  again 
stirred,  while  Eleanor,  remembering  her  mother's  words, 
determined  to  be  as  nice  as  possible  to  Bertha. 

It  did  not  take  long  to  drive  the  mile  and  a  half  that 
had  been  fixed  as  the  limit,  and  then  they  all  jumped 
out,  leaving  Thomas  and  the  horses  drawn  up  in  the 
shade  at  one  side  of  the  road  to  wait  for  the  others,  while 
they  walked  on  towards  "Hanging  Rock,"  the  name  of 
the  hill  where  the  finest  arbutus  of  the  country  was  to 
be  found. 

It  did  not  add  to  Bertha's  pleasure  to  find  that  on  the 
road  the  boys  openly  showed  their  preference  for  Elea- 
nor's society  by  walking  entirely  with  her  and  May 
Brewster,  leaving  Bertha  and  Grace  Adams,  a  quiet  girl 
of  fifteen,  quite  to  themselves.  Eleanor  tried  to  have  it 
otherwise,  but  was  unsuccessful.  Two  of  the  boys  would 
fall  back  and  join  Bertha  and  Grace,  only  to  leave  them 
again,  and  hurry  forward  to  hear  the  latest  joke  at  every 
burst  of  laughter  from  the  group  in  front. 

Presently  Ned  Brewster,  witli  the  air  of  one  who  was 
trying  to  do  his  duty,  came  back  and  walked  with  Bertha 
and  Grace. 

"Why  don't  you  two  girls  walk  a  little  faster?"  he 
said.  "Then  we  might  all  keep  together." 

"Oh,  don't  worry  about  us!"  replied  Bertha.  "We 
don't  mind  walking  alone.  Do  we,  Grace?  Go  back  to 
the  popular  orphan." 

"What  under  the  sun  do  you  mean?"  asked  Ned. 

"  Haven't  you  heard  the  news?  Don't  you  know  about 
Eleanor  Rogers? — or  rather  she  isn't  Eleanor  Rogers  at 
all." 

"I'd  like  to  know  what  you're  talking  about!"  said 
Ned.  somewhat  roughly.  "  I  hate  mysteries." 

"Not  much  mystery  about  this  now,  because  it's  all 
been  found  out." 

"But  you  don't  know  whether  it's  really  true,  do  you, 
Bertha?"  put  in  Grace,  shyly. 

"I  do  know  it!"  returned  Bertha,  angrily.  "Do  you 
suppose  I  would  say  it  if  it  were  not  really  true?  You 
must  think  I  am  a  nice  kind  of  a  person?" 

"But  what  is  it?"  persisted  Ned. 

"  Only  that  Eleanor  is  not  really  Mrs.  Rogers's  daughter 
at  all.  She  is  adopted,  and  she  came  from  an  orphan 
asylum." 

"Pshaw!     I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it." 

"  That  does  not  alter  the  facts,"  replied  Bertha,  grandly. 

"And  even  if  it  is  true,  what's  the  harm?  Just  as 
good  things  come  out  of  orphan  asylums  as  anywhere 
else.  In  fact,  in  this  case  they  are  l>ct,ter." 

"That  is  a  matter  of  taste. "said  Bertha.  "But  the 
worst  of  it  is  the  hypocrisy  of  ii.  Think  of  Mrs.  Rogers 


and  Eleanor  pretending  things  that  are  not  really 
true!" 

"  Where  did  yon  hear  it?"  asked  Ned,  after  a  pause. 

"Nevermind!  But  from  very  good  authority.  You 
would  think  the  very  best,"  said  Bertha,  meaningly. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"  Well,  I  fancy  your  mother  knows  more  about  it  than 
she  chooses  to  tell." 

"Probably  she  does,  if  it  is  true,  for  she  and  Mrs. 
Rogers  are  such  old  friends,  but  mother  is  away,  and  I 
can't  ask  her.  She  has  never  said  a  word  about  it,  and 
I  don't  believe  it's  meant  to  be  talked  about.  I'd  like  to 
know  where  you  got  the  information  from.  Not  from 
her,  I  bet!  And  I'll  tell  you  another  thing,  Bertha.  It's 
a  pretty  mean  trick  for  you  to  be  spreading  it  round  if 
Mrs.  Rogers  and  Eleanor  want  it  kept  a  secret." 

"Eleanor!  Why,  she  doesn't  know  anything  about 
it." 

"She  doesn't!  Then  you're  worse  even  than  I 
thought." 

Bertha  stopped  in  the  road  and  made  a  courtesy. 
"Thanks  for  the  compliment,  Mr.  Brewster!" 

"What  are  you  doing,  Bertha?" cried  Eleanor,  mer- 
rily, looking  around  just  at  this  moment.  "Here  is  the 
carriage  waiting  for  us,  and  it  is  our  turn  to  drive 
again." 

They  all  got  in,  and  the  conversation  became  general, 
but  Ned  Brewster  was  very  thoughtful,  and  he  made  up 
his  mind  that  he  would  not  again  sacrifice  his  own  in- 
clinations by  walking  with  Bertha  Weld. 

So  it  went  on,  turn  and  turn  about,  until  the  whole 
party  had  reached  the  foot  of  Hanging  Rock,  where  they 
were  to  join  forces.  Then  the  search  for  arbutus  began, 
and  great  was  the  joy  of  the  first  to  find  the  delicate 
little  flower  hidden  away  under  the  broad  tough  leaves. 

It  was  very  luxuriant  this  spring,  but  with  so  many 
searchers  it  did  not  take  long  to  gather  all  that  there 
was,  and  then  the  party  sat  and  rested  while  a  large  basket 
was  lifted  from  beneath  the  seat  of  the  carriage,  and  a 
tempting  array  of  sandwiches  and  fruit  was  disclosed  to 
view. 

After  this  the  cards  were  collected  again,  and  each 
person  made  a  new  choice,  that  the  party  might  be  di- 
vided differently  on  the  way  home.  This  time  Bertha 
and  Eleanor  were  not  together,  and  neither  was  especi- 
ally sorry. 

On  their  return  to  the  house  a  delicious  supper  was 
found  awaiting  the  hungry  boys  and  girls,  and  after- 
wards they  played  games,  danced,  and  had,  as  May  Brew- 
ster expressed  it,  "the  most  perfect  of  all  the  perfect 
times  they  had  ever  had  at  Madge's  perfect  party." 

It  was  almost  time  to  go  home.  Eleanor  had  been 
asked  by  Mrs.  Barnes  to  close  a  certain  window  in  a  little 
room  that  opened  from  the  library.  She  stood  a  moment 
behind  the  curtain — it  was  a  small  bay-window,  and  the 
drapery  made  a  recess  wilhin-r-lookiiig  across  the  valley 
as  it  lay  bathed  in  the  moonlight. 

"How  lovely  it  is,"  she  thought;  "and  what  a  good 
time  I  have  had!  If  only  mamma  were  at  home  that  I 
might  tell  her  all  about  it!  It  seems  so  long  to  wait  until 
Monday." 

She  was  just  turning  away  to  go  back  into  the  room, 
when  she  heard  her  own  name  mentioned  by  some  one 
on  the  other  side  of  the  curtain.  It  was  Ned  Brewster's 
voice. 

"Are  you  sure  Eleanor  doesn't  know  anything  about 
it?" 

"  No,  she  doesn't.  I  think  she  ought  to  be  told  what  a 
deceiver  her  mother  is,  or,  rather,  Mrs.  Rogers,  for  she's 
not  her  mother." 

It  was  Bertha  who  replied:  "Well,  I  advise  you  not 
to  be  the  one  to  tell  her.  It  would  kill  her  to  know  it.  I 
don't  believe  it,  anyhow.  If  mother  were  only  at  home 


JANUARY  1,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


175 


I'd  ask  her  about  it.      For  my  part  I  don't  believe  there  is 
a  word  of  truth  in  it." 

For  a  moment  Eleanor  stood  still.  She  felt  as  if  she 
had  turned  into  stone  and  could  not  move.  Then,  with- 
out a  word,  she  stepped  out  and  confronted  them. 

Bertha  gave  a  little  scream.  Eleanor  looked  from  one 
to  the  other.  Ned  whistled  softly  and  walked  away. 

"What  are  you  saying  about  my  mother  and  me?" 
asked  Eleanor. 

Her  voice  sounded  strange,  quite  as  if  it  were  sonle  one 
else's. 

•'  Oh,  nothing!"  said  Bertha. 

She  was  frightened  for  the  moment. 

''Yes,  you  were.     Tell  me!" 

"What  were  you  doing  there — listening?"  asked  Ber- 
tha, pertly,  recovering  her  self-possession.  "Listeners 
never  hear  any  good  of  themselves." 

"I  was  not  listening.  Mrs.  Barnes  sent  me  there. 
Tell  me  what  you  said." 

"You  heard  well  enough  for  yourself." 

"Did  you  really  say  that  mamma  was  not  my  mo- 
ther?" 

"Yes,  I  did." 

"Then  who  am  I?" 

"You — you  came  out  of  an  orphan  asylum." 

"Who  told  you  so?" 

"Somebody  who  knows  all  about  it." 

"Who?" 

"I  sha'n't  tell  you." 

"  You've  got  to  tell  me." 

"I'd  like  to  know  why  I've  got  to  do  anything  you 
say." 

"You  don't  tell  me  because  you  don't  know.  It  isn't 
true.  There's  not  a  word  of  truth  in  it." 

"Very  well.  You  needn't  believe  it  if  you  don't  wish 
to,  but  I  tell  you  it  is  true,  for  it  came  from  Mrs.  Brew- 
ster.  So  there,  now !"  And  Bertha,  feeling  that  she  had 
had  enough  of  this  interview,  ran  out  of  the  room. 

Eleanor  sank  into  a  chair.  Mrs.  Brewster!  If  any 
one  would  know  of  such  a  thing  it  was  Mrs.  Brewster, 
her  mother's  dearest  friend. 

And  her  mother  was  away.  Her  mother  ?  Bertha 
said  she  was  not  her  mother,  and  Bertha  knew  it  from 
Mrs.  Brewster.  Perhaps  it  was  true.  Yes,  if  Mrs.  Brew- 
ster said  so  it  must  be  true. 

How  long  she  sat  there  she  did  not  know,  whether  five 
minutes  or  five  hours.  After  a  while  Ruth  came  to  look 
for  her. 

"  Oh,  here  you  are  at  last!  We  have  been  searching 
everywhere  for  you.  Nell.  Why,  what  is  the  matter, 
child?" 

Eleanor  looked  at  her,  and  did  not  answer. 

"I  am  afraid  you  have  walked  too  far." 

"  Yes,  I  have  walked  too  far,"  replied  Eleanor,  mechan- 
ically. She  was  not  conscious  of  speaking. 

"  You  must  go  to  bed  at  once,"  exclaimed  Ruth,  assist- 
ing her  to  rise,  and  half  leading,  half  carrying  her  from 
the  room.  "  Mamma,  Eleanor  is  quite  exhausted.  She 
doesn't  seem  at  all  well." 

Mrs.  Barnes  was  distressed.  "She  had  better  not  sleep 
with  Madge  to-night.  She  will  be  quieter  in  the  little 
room  next  to  yours,  Ruth." 

And  so  Eleanor  was  put  to  bed  in  a  little  room  by  her- 
self, and  at  intervals  during  the  night  Ruth  stole  in  to  see 
how  she  was  getting  on.  She  thought  the  child  was 
sleeping  peacefully,  but  it  was  not  until  towards  morn- 
ing that  Eleanor  really  fell  asleep. 

All  night  long  the  terrible  words  were  repeating  them- 
selves in  her  ear,  and  if  she  dozed  off.  a  frightful  dream 
awoke  her.  All  night  long  she  heard  Bertha's  voice  say- 
ing, "Mrs.  Rogers  is  not  your  mother.  You  came  from 
an  orphan  asylum.  Mrs.  Brewster  knows." 

[TO    BK    CONTINUED.] 


THK    LEYDEN-JAR. 

rilHE  Leyden-jar  is  a  necessary  adjunct  to  any  kind  of  elec- 
JL  trical  machine,  for  by  it  alone  can  the,  electricity  generated 
liy  the  machine  lie  .stored  for  the  numerous  experiments  and  for 
imparting  shocks.  A  small  jar  may  be  made  from  an  ordinary 
thin  glass  tumbler  of  the 
largest  size;  but  if  a  larger 
jar  is  desired,  a  glass  bottle 
or  jar  with  a  neck  suffi- 
ciently wide  to  admit  the 
hand  must  be  used.  Such 
jars  are  easily  procured. 
Take  the  tumbler  or  jar  and 
paste  tin-foil  inside  it,  cover- 
ing the  bottom  and  extend- 
ing about  three-quarters  up 
its  height;  when  this  haft 
been  done  paste  tin-foil  on 
the  outside,  covering  the 
same  surface  as  has  been 
covered  on  the  inside. 
When  the  paste  has  become. 
perfectly  dry  trim  the  upper 
edges  of  the  tin-foil  with  a 
knife,  scraping  away  all  the 
irregularities,  and  clean  the 
uncovered  glass  thoroughly. 
Now  make  a  lid  for  the 
tumbler  or  jar,  so  as  to  lit  it. 

This  is  best  made  by  being  turned  out  of  a  piece  of  three- 
quarter-inch  thick  hard-wood  ;  but  it  can  be  cut  with  a  knife  out 
of  two  quarter-inch  pieces,  one  a  little  larger  than  the  outside  of 
the  tumbler  or  neck  of  the  jar,  and  the  other  made  to  fit  inside 
the  tumbler  or  neck.  When  these  pieces  are  glued  together 
they  will  form  a  sufficient  lid.  Bore  a  hole  through  the  ceutie 
of  the  lid  to  receive  a  stout  brass  wire,  about  six  inches  long, 
having  a  brass  or  lead  ball  at  its  upper  end,  and  a  short  piece 
of  brass  chain  tied  with  wire  to  its  lower  end.  When  the  lid  is 
put  in  its  place  the  chain  must  touch  the  tin-foil  at  the  bottom. 
To  use  the  jar,  place  it  so  that  its  ball  is  close  to  the  ball  of 
the  collector  or  conductor  of  the  electrical  machine,  and  turn 
the  handle.  Sparks  will  be  seen  to  pass  from  one  ball  to  an- 
other until  the  Leyden-jar  will  refuse  to  receive  more.  At  this 
stage  it  is  charged  with  electricity.  Now  if  a  person  touches 
the  outside  coating  of  tin-toil  with  oue  hand  and  the  ball  with 
the  other,  he  will  receive  an  electric  shock.  If  a  string  of  ten 
or  twenty  boys  is  formed,  by  joining  hands,  and  the  left-hand 
boy  touches  the  tin-foil  of  the  jar,  while  the  right-hand  boy 
places  his  linger  on  the  ball,  the  entire  string  of  boys  experi- 
ences a  shock  in  the  arms.  Such  a  harmless  experiment  causes 
great  fun  hi  a  gathering  of  young  people. 


A   HAPPY    NEW    YEAR. 

JUST  at  the  turn  of  the  midnight, 
When  the  children  are  fast  asleep, 
The  tired  Old  Year  slips  out  by  himself, 
Glad  of  a  chance  to  be  laid  on  the  shelf, 
And  the  New  Year  takes  a  peep 

At  the  beautiful  world  that  is  waiting 

For  the  hours  that  he  will  bring: 
For  the  wonderful  things  iu  his  peddler's  pack; 
Weather,  all  sorts,  there  will  be  no  lack, 

And  many  a  marvellous  thing 

Flowers,  by  hosts  and  armies. 

Stars  and  sunshine  and  rain! 
The  merry  times  and  the  sorrowful  times, 
Quickstep  and  jingle,  and   dirge  and  chimes, 
And  the  weaving  of  joy  and  pain. 

When   the  children   wake  in   the  morning, 

Shouting  their  "Happy  New  Year," 
The  year    will    be   started   well    on    bis   way, 
Swinging  along   through   his  lirst    white   day, 

With   the  path   before  him  clear. 

Twelve  long   months  for   his  journey  ; 

Fifty-two  weeks  of  a  spell; 
At   the   end  of  it  all  he'll  slip  out   by  himself, 
Glad  of  a  chance   to  be  laid  on   the  shelf, 

At  the   stroke  of  the  midnight   bell. 

MAUGAKKT  K.  SANGSTKH. 


UNTIDY    JANE 


"Come  Jane'1  said  grandmamma  one  day, 

"  "Tis  time  you  learned  to  sew ; 
At  your  age  I  could  make  a  frock , 
And  you  should  also  know'.' 


So  now  she  only  tossed  her  head 
And  ran  with  eag-er  feet. 

And  soon  was  racing  up  and  down , 
And  playing  in  the  street  . 


When  she  was  shown  upstairs  to  lay 

Her  hat  upon  the  bed 
She  saw  a  little  basket  there 

With  needles,  wax  and  thread  . 


But  Jane  cared  little  for  such  things ; 

She  liked  to  make  a  noise ; 
She  used  to  run  about  all  day , 

And  shout,  and  play  with  boys . 


Once  Jane  was  to  a  party  asked; 

Her  friends  would  all  be  there ; 
She  wore  her  best  sprigged  muslin  frock , 

And  ribbons  tied  her  hair  . 


"I  wonder"  said  untidy  Jane, 
"If  Mat  tie  likes  to  sew  ; 
I'm  glad  that  I  have  never  learned; 
I  should  not  care  to  know '.' 


With  that  she  laughed  and  ran  downstairs, 

But  on  the  way  -  ah  see! 
She's  caught  her  skirt  upon  a  nail 

And  torn  it  terribly  . 


So  with  her  frock  all  torn,  into 

The  room  she  had  to  go , 
And  all  the  children  wondering  stared 

To  see  her  looking  so  ; 


When  nurse  at  last  was  sent  for  her 
How  glad  was  little  Jane  ; 

She  almost  thought  she  never  wished 
To  romp  or  play  again . 


If  Jane  had  learned  from  grandmamma 
She  might  have  mended  it, 

But  she  had  been  a  thoughtless  child 
And  could  not  sew  a  bit . 


Then  when  Jane  played  it  caught  her  feet 

And  almost  made  her  fall ; 
That  shamed  her  so  she  ran  away 

And  tried  to  hide  from  all . 


"  Oh !  grandmamma , dear  grandmamma , 

Indeed, indeedTsaid  she, 
"If  now  you'll  teach  me  how  to  sew 

A  thankful  child  I'll  be'.' 

KATHARINE  PYLE. 


HUNTING  REEDBIRDS. 

WHEN  Jimmieboy  first  tasted  the  reedbirds  his  father  had 
had  sent  home,  he  was  very  much  pleased  with  their  taste,  but 
he  thought  they  were  awfully  small. 

"Do  they  hunt  these  birds  with  a  gnu,  papa?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  his  father  replied.     "  Why  ?" 

"  Seems  to  me  they'd  ought  to  hunt  'em  with  a  microscope." 


MOLLIE'S  REASON. 
I  LIKE  to  talk  to  dolls  aud  thiugs, 

To  chairs  and  sofas  too, 
Because  they  listen  all  the  time, 

And  do  not  answer  vou. 


"  G-RK-RUR-R-KOW  !"  growled  little  Jack. 

"What  does  that  mean  ?"  queried  Uuele  George. 

"I'm  a  polar  bear.     Whrr-grrr-ugh !"  returned  little  Jack. 

"DeariDc!"  cried  Uncle  George.  "How  singular.  I'll  have 
to  write  to  the  papers  about  this.  I  never  in  my  life  before  saw 
a  polar  bear  in  short  trousers.  It  is  most  iuterestiug." 


A    SUGGESTION. 

'•  I  WISHT  you'd  buy  some  glass  covers  and  put  'em  over  my 
bed,"  said  Keimiboy  to  his  father.  "It  was  awful  cold  last 
night,  and  Johu  says  you  can  make  a  hotbed  with  glass  covers.'' 


A   POSSIBLE  REASON. 

"  I  KNOW  why  flowers  grow,"  said  Wilbur, 
get  up  out  of  the  dirt.'' 


"They  want  to 


A    DISCOVERY. 

I  DON'T  think  rolling  off  a  log 

Is  easy  as  'tis  said. 
I  tried  it  yesterday,  and  got 

A  big  bump  on  uiy  head. 


AN  ACKNOWLEDGMENT. 

"  MY  papa  knows  more  'n  your  papa,"  said  Jack. 
"  I  know  he  does,"  said  Tom.    "  My  papa  says  your  papa  knows 
it  all." 


v 


HARPE 

YOUNG  PEOPLE 


Copyright,  1895,  by  HARPKK  &    BR 


PUBLISHED     WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI. — NO.  793. 


NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY,  JANUARY  8,  1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO   DOLLARS   A    YBAK. 


A     USELESS    ADVENTURE. 

BY     A.  J.   ENSIGN. 


"  TTAVE  you  put  in    the  compass,  sextant,  and  chro- 
JT1     nonieter?"  asked  Harvey  Drake. 
"Of  course  I  have,"  answered  Philip  Boyle.      "  But  I 
say,  Harvey,  our  chronometer  is  just  a  Waterbury  \vatch  ; 
is  that  right '." 

"Certainly  it  is.  I  looked  for  the  word  'chronometer' 
in  my  dictionary,  and  it  said  'a  clock  or  watch.'  We 
haven't  room  for  a  clock,  so  a  watch  is  all  right." 


"And  say,  Harvey,  what's  the  sextant  for?  I'm  glad 
I  knew  where  to  look  for  it,  but  it  takes  up  a  good  deal 
of  room." 

"But  we  can't  get  along  without  it."  said  Harvey,  em- 
phatically. "We  navigate  the  boat  wilh  that;  it  tells 
us  our  latitude." 

"Do  you  know  how  to  work  it?"  asked  Philip,  taking- 
it  out  of  the  caM1.  ami  eying  it  curiouslj-. 


178 


HAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUMK  XVI. 


"  Of  course  I  do,"  said  Harvey.  "  Father  showed  me 
one  day.  All  you  have  to  do  is  to  look  at  the  sea 
through  the  telescope,  and  push  this  bar  till  you  see  the 
sun  reflected  in  the  sea,  and  tlieu  you  look  on  this  scale 
alongside  of  the  bar  and  it  tells  you  the  latitude." 

"Why,  Harvey!"  exclaimed  Phil,  "you  know  enough 
to  command  an  ocean  steamer.  And  who  knows?  Per- 
haps our  expedition  will  be  so  successful  that  some  one 
will  come  forward  and  offer  you  the  command  of  a 
ship,  and  the  papers  will  be  full  of  the  wonderful  story 
of  Harvey  Drake,  the  Boy  Captain.  There's  never  been 
any  story  like  the  one  that  will  be  written  about  our 
voyage." 

"That's  so,"  said  Harvey,  "because  no  boys  have  ever 
attempted  to  cross  the  Atlantic  in  a  twenty -five -foot 
boat.  It's  been  done  by  men,  but  never  by  boys." 

"In  a  twenty-five-foot  boat?" 

"Yes,  and  in  a  smaller  one  than  that,"  said  Harvey, 
looking  very  wise.  "  One  man  crossed  in  a  sixteen-foot 
dory,  called  the  Dark  Secret." 

"  What  a  funny  name!" 

"Wasn't  it?  And  my  father  says  it  was  done  just  to 
advertise  a  play  called  by  that  name." 

"Oh,  Harvey!  I  think  that  was  wild.  I  wouldn't  do 
such  a  dangerous  thing  just  for  advertising." 

"Well,  I  don't  know.  We  expect  to  advertise  our- 
selves by  our  expedition,  don't  we?" 

"But  we're  not  doing  it  for  that!  We  are  doing  it 
because  it's  brave  and  venturesome — and  wonderful." 

"And  we'd  better  get  at  it  right  away,  Phil.  See,  the 
dawn  is  coming,  and  the  first  thing  we  know  it  will  be 
daylight  before  we're  out  of  sight  of  the  house,  and  then 
they'll  come  out  and  bring  us  back." 

"  That's  so,  Harvey.  Everything  is  in  the  boat.  No, 
wait;  there  are  the  marine-glasses  hanging  on  the  fence." 

The  boy  ran  and  got  the  glasses,  and  then  the  two 
friends  were  ready  for  their  wild  adventure.  For  weeks 
they  had  been  planning  to  outdo  Captain  Anderson,  Cap- 
tain Frietsch,  and  all  the  other  hardy  mariners  who  have 
crossed  the  Atlantic  in  small  craft.  They  were  two  boys 
of  thirteen  and  fifteen,  and  they  intended  to  cross  the 
western  ocean  in  the  catboat  which  they  owned  in 
partnership.  They  were  quite  aware  that  their  parents 
would  not  countenance  such  a  plan,  so  they  had  equipped 
and  provisioned  their  boat  in  secret,  keeping  her  far 
down  the  creek  which  led  into  the  bay ;  and  now  they 
were  about  to  embark. 

"Let's  get  the  mainsail  on  her,"  said  Harvey,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  they  had  the  canvas  spread.  Both  boys 
knew  how  to  sail  a  catboat  on  the  comparatively  peace- 
ful waters  of  the  bay,  though  as  a  matter  of  fact  neither 
of  them  had  ever  been  out  in  a  gale  even  there.  They 
had  both  made  short  coasting  voyages  on  stanch  steam- 
ers, and  had  formed  a  wrong  idea  of  the  might  of  old 
ocean.  Looking  down  on  a  five-foot  sea  from  the  deck 
of  a  steamer  fifteen  feet  above  it',  and  looking  up  to  it 
from  that  of  a  catboat  three  feet  below  it,  are  very  differ- 
ent matters.  But  the  gravest  trouble  with  these  two  boys 
was  the  inflammation  of  their  minds  by  reading  sensa- 
tional newspaper  accounts  of  the  voyages  already  referred 
to,  and  also  trashy  novels  depicting  such  sea  heroes  as 
never  existed  except  in  the  minds  of  hack  writers  for 
cheap  story  papers. 

"  We  sha'n't  have  any  trouble  getting  out  of  the  creek 
with  this  wind,"  said  Phil. 

"  No;  it  '11  be  abearn  all  the  way  out  into  the  bay  and 
out  to  the  sea,  too.  Shove  her  off,  Phil." 

Pliil  braced  his  back  against  the  mast  and  pushed  with 
his  foot  against  the  pier.  The  sail  filled,  and  the  boat 
glided  gently  down  the  creek  just  as  the  east  began  to 
glow  with  the  rising  of  the  sun.  The  bay  was  quickly 
reached,  and  the  boat,  getting  the  full  force  of  the  fresh 
morning  breeze,  sped  away  with  a  fine  smother  of  foam 


under  her  lee  bow.  Harvey  did  the  sailing,  while  Phil 
set  to  work  to  get  the  breakfast,  for  their  early  rising  and 
the  work  of  preparation  had  made  them  both  hungry. 
Phil  had  often  cooked  aboard  the  boat,  and  the  fact  that 
she  was  heeled  far  over  to  port  did  not  inconvenience 
him  at  all.  There  was  a  place.for  the  little  oil-stove  just 
forward  of  the  cabin,  but  Phil  preferred,  in  clear  weathei-, 
to  bring  it  out  into  the  cockpit  and  cook  there.  In  half 
an  hour  he  had  hot  coffee,  boiled  eggs,  and  rolls  all  ready, 
and  the  two  friends  fell  to  with  fine  appetites. 

"I  tell  you  what,"  exclaimed  Harvey,  "this  is  just 
great !" 

"You  bet  it  is!"  said  Phil,  with  his  mouth  full  of 
bread. 

"See, "cried  Harvey,  "there's  an  ocean  steamer  just 
coming  in.  How  surprised  some  of  those  fellows  will  be 
when  they  meet  us  half-way  across." 

Phil  was  speechless  with  delight  at  the  very  thought. 
An  hour  later  the  catboat  passed  the  point  that  marked 
the  entrance  to  the  bay,  and  got  the  run  of  the  long  ocean 
swells  under  her  forefoot.  It  was  an  ordinary  summer- 
day  swell,  but  it  appeared  to  be  extraordinarily  large  to 
the  inexperienced  boys.  Phil  ran  to  look  at  the  aneroid 
barometer  which  hung  in  the  cabin,  and  found  it  had 
fallen  a  little. 

"Too  bad, "said  Harvey;  "I  suppose  we're  going  to 
run  into  a  gale  of  wind  the  first  thing." 

"  Well,"  said  Phil,  confidently,  "  the  Elsie  can  weather 
any  gale  that  a  sixteen-foot  dory  can." 

Which  remark  showed  that  Philip  did  not  know  much 
about  the  sea-going  abilities  of  catboats  or  dories.  How- 
ever, the  day  wore  on,  and  noon  was  reached  without 
any  sign  of  an  immediate  storm.  When  it  was  five  min- 
utes of  twelve  by  the  little  clock  in  the  cabin  Harvey 
brought  the  sextant  on  deck.  At  precisely  twelve  he 
gazed  through  the  sight  vane  at  the  sea,  and  brought 
down  the  reflection  of  the  sun  by  moving  the  index  bar. 
Then  he  read  off  the  arc,  72°  41'  00". 

"How's  that!"  exclaimed  he. 

"Why,  Harvey,"  cried  Phil,  "that  can't  be  right." 

"  That's  so,"  answered  Harvey,  looking  rather  gloomy. 
"We  can't  be  in  latitude  72°  41'  00"  already,  because 
we've  only  just  left  latitude  40°  30'  about  three  hours 
ago,  and  there  are  sixty  miles  to  a  degree.  We  couldn't 
have  sailed  that  far,  you  know." 

"  The  sextant  must  be  out  of  order,"  said  Phil. 

"That's  what's  the  matter,"  said  Harvey;  "  but  it's  too 
late  now.  We  must  go  by  dead-reckoning — just  keeping 
account  of  how  many  miles  we  sail  on  each  course,  and 
then  adding  them  up,  you  know." 

At  three  o'clock,  when  they  were  some  thirty-five  miles 
out,  it  began  to  cloud  over  and  look  like  a  squall.  The 
boys  double-reefed  the  mainsail  and  prepared  for  trouble. 
At  four  o'clock  a  fierce  storm  of  wind,  accompanied  by 
thunder,  lightning,  and  rain,  swept  down  upon  them 
from  the  southwest.  For  half  an  hour  it  blew  a  small 
hurricane.  Harvey  had  taken  in  the  mainsail  as  soon  as 
he  felt  the  weight  of  the  wind,  and  the  catboat,  yawing 
wildly,  went  scudding  away  before  the  wind.  At  the 
end  of  half  an  hour  the  squall  ended  as  suddenly  as  it  be- 
gan, and  the  boys  hoisted  the  sail  with  the  reefs  still  in 
it.  Just  as  they  were  about  to  shake  them  out  the  breeze 
came  out  of  the  northwest,  fresh  and  strong,  and  Harvey 
decided  that  they  would  better  let  the  reefs  remain. 
Shortly  before  six  o'clock  they  began  to  learn  something 
about  the  ways  of  old  ocean,  for  the  sea  began  to  rise, 
and  the  great  curling  crests  rose  astern  of  the  catboat 
threateningly.  Of  course  the  little  craft  steered  wildly, 
and  it  made  Harvey's  arms  ache  to  hold  her  on  her  course. 
Phil  went  below  to  get  the  supper,  and  he  felt  that  the 
boat  was  tossing  greatly.  Suddenly  Harvey  lost  his  grip 
on  the  tiller,  and  the  boat  partly  broached  to.  A  big 
green  sea  curled  in  over  her  quarter,  half  filling  the  cock- 


JANUARY  S,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


179 


pit.  At  the  same  instant  a  cry  of  dismay  broke  from  the 
galley. 

"  What's  the  matter?"  called  Harvey,  anxiously. 

"The  oil-stove  has  fallen  over  and  smashed;  and  I 
can't  cook  anything  anyhow,  because  she  pitches  so." 

"Come  up  here  a  minute.  We're  half  full  of  water, 
and  it  doesn't  run  off  fast  enough." 

Phil  hastened  out  with  a  tin  pail,  and  began  to  bail  out 
the  cockpit. 

"What  ever  shall  we  do  now?"  he  asked,  as  he  flung 
the  water  over  the  side.  "  We  shall  have  to  live  on  cold 
food." 

"As  soon  as  this  blow  is  over,"  said  Harvey,  "we 
must  try  to  find  some  way  to  mend  the  stove.  We  can't 
get  along  without  hot  tea  or  coffee." 

But  the  blow  did  not  appear  to  be  inclined  to  pass  over. 
The  barometer  continued  to  fall  and  the  sea  to  rise.  In 
the  mean  time  the  wind  backed  point  by  point, till  it  went 
round  to  south-southeast,  and  there  it  staid.  All  old 
sailors  know  that  a  southeaster  on  the  Atlantic  coast  is 
the  worst  kind  of  a  storm.  At  midnight  it  was  blowing 
what  even  an  old  seaman  would  have  called  half  a  gale, 
and  a  heavy  sea  was  running.  Harvey  and  Phil  had 
tucked  in  their  close  reef  and  then  lowered  their  peak. 
Now  they  found  that  this  ordinary  trick  of  catboat  sea- 
manship was  of  no  avail  on  the  broad  Atlantic.  The 
gaff  swung  madly,  and  made  the  mast  buckle  and  jump. 

"Hurry  forward,  Phil,"  said  Harvey,  "and  take  in 
the  sail." 

Phil  was  so  hungry  and  tired  that  he  could  hardly  drag 
one  foot  after  the  oilier,  but  he  realized  that  Harvey's 
order  must  be  obeyed.  He  started  forward,  but  as  he 
went  along  the  top  of  the  cabin  a  mighty  sea  broke  over 
the  little  boat,  filling  her  sail  and  literally  dragging  the 
mast  out  by  the  roots.  At  the  same  instant  Phil  was 
swept  from  his  feet  and  hurled  into  the  sea  amid  the 
tangle  of  canvas  and  ropes. 

For  a  moment  Harvey  was  stunned  by  the  swiftness 
and  extent  of  the  disaster.  But  the  next  instant  a  half- 
strangled  cry  from  Phil,  who  was  struggling  for  his  life, 
recalled  the  boy  to  his  senses.  He  sprang  to  the  side  of 
the  boat,  and  leaning  far  over,  dragged  the  heavy  water- 
soaked  mainsail  off  Phil's  body  by  main  strength.  Then 
seizing  Phil  by  the  collar  of  his  stout  flannel  shirt,  Har- 
vey dragged  him  aboard  the  boat  and  hauled  him  into 
the  cockpit.  In  the  mean  time  the  heavy  seas  were  driv- 
ing the  broken  mast  and  boom  against  the  side  of  the 
little  vessel  in  a  way  that  threatened  to  make  a  hole  in 
her.  Harvey  left  Phil  lying  dazed  and  nearly  uncon- 
scious in  the  cockpit  while  he  got  the  axe  out  of  the  cabin 
and  hurriedly  began  to  cut  away  the  wr-eckage.  A  few 
sharp  blows  sufficed  to  free  the  mass,  from  the  hull  of  the 
boat,  and  away  the  tangle  of  spars,  canvas,  and  ropes 
went  driving  across  her  stern. 

"This  will  not  do,"said  Harvey;  "we'll  be  swamped 
if  we  don't  ride  head  to  it." 

He  procured  a  bucket  from  the  fore-peak,  and  made 
fast  to  its  handle  a  long  rope.  Then  he  tied  the  other 
end  of  the  rope  to  the  stern  shackle  where  his  main-stay 
had  been,  and  hove  the  bucket  overboard.  It  made  an 
excellent  drag,  and  held  the  frail  boat  head  to  the  seas. 
Harvey  now  hastened  back  to  Phil,  who  was  just  begin- 
ning to  revive.  He  had  swallowed  a  good  deal  of  water, 
and  for  a  short  time  was  dreadfully  sick.  When  the 
nausea  had  passed  off.  the  poor  boy  sat  on  the  flooring  of 
the  cockpit  weak  and  despairing. 

"Oh,  Harvey,"  he  said,  with  a  choking  voice,  "I  sup- 
pose we  shall  never  see  home  again." 

"We  mustn't  give  up,  Phil,  old  man.  The  boat  is 
afloat  yet,  and  she  seetns  to  be  tight  and  sound.  This  is 
a  summer  gale,  you  know,  and  it  can't  last  forever.  Be- 
sides, we  are  sure  to  fall  in  with  a  ship  soon,  and  then  we 
shall  be  taken  aboard  and  get  dry  clothes  and  hot  coffee." 


The  morning  dawned  without  any  evidence  of  a  com- 
ing break  in  the  gale.  Phil  was  now  able  to  move  about, 
though  he  felt  stiff  and  sore.  Harvey  found  that  he 
could  heat  some  coffee  in  a  tin  can  over  the  cabin  lamp, 
and  when  they  had  drunk  this,  and  eaten  some  damp 
biscuit  and  cold  beef,  they  felt  much  better.  But  the 
storm  still  raged,  and  frequently  heavy  seas  swept  the 
deck  of  the  boat.  As  the  day  wore  on  the  two  boys  be- 
gan to  lose  heart  again.  But  suddenly  out  of  the  driv- 
ing foam  and  rain  there  loomed  the  form  of  a  brigantine. 

"A  sail!     A  sail!"  screamed  Phil. 

Both  boys  stood  up  and  waved  their  arms,  shouting 
wildly.  On  came  the  brigantine  under  a  close-reefed  fore- 
topsail  and  a  jib,  scudding  before  the  storm.  It  seemed 
a  grand  sight  to  the  boys  to  see  her  rise  on  the  great 
waves  and  then  plunge  into  the  dark  hollows  with  a  mad 
roaring  of  foam  under  her  black  bows.  But  their  exalta- 
tion turned  to  despair  when  they  beheld  her  rush  by  them 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  away.  They  cried;  they  screamed ; 
they  almost  jumped  overboard;  but  they  failed  to  attract 
attention,  and  the  vessel  swept  away  into  the  gray  gloom, 
and  left  them  pitching  hopelessly  on  the  angry  sea.  The 
two  boys  lay  down  in  the  cockpit  and  cried.  But  pres- 
ently Harvey  plucked  up  courage  again,  and  said: 

"  We  mustn't  despair,  Phil." 

"  Hark!" cried  Phil,  "what's  that?" 

"I  don't  hear  anything  but  the  wind  and  sea,"  said 
Harvey. 

"  I  do,"  declared  Phil;   "there  it  is  again.     Listen!" 

"That's  a  steamer's  whistle!"  cried  Harvey. 

A  few  minutes  later  they  saw  a  great  black  hull,  sur- 
mounted by  two  huge  smoke-stacks,  come  rushing  out  of 
the  rain  and  mist. 

"My  goodness,  Phil !"  shouted  Harvey;  "she's  head- 
ing- right  at  us!  She'll  run  us  down!" 

The  boys  again  stood  up,  and  waved  their  arms  and 
shouted.  A  minute  later  the  big  steamer  was  abreast  of 
them,  not  a  hundred  yards  away,  with  her  engines  re- 
versed. Hundreds  of  eager  faces  Ihied  her  rail,  and 
many  hands  pointed  at  the  dismasted  catboat.  . 

A  heavy  ten-oared  cutter  manned  by  strong  sailors,  and 
steered  by  the  first  officer  of  the  ship,  came  jumping 
through  the  waves,  and  iu  a  very  few  minutes  the  boys 
were  taken  off  their  sorry- looking  craft,  and  placed 
aboard  the  steamer. 

"  Two  little  boys!"  exclaimed  the  ladies  among  the  pas- 
sengers, with  sympathetic  voices. 

As  soon  as  Harvey  and  Phil  had  been  given  a  hot  meal 
and  had  their  clothes  dried  in  the  engine-room  they  were 
taken  before  the  Captain,  who  asked  them  how  they  came 
to  be  so  far  from  land  in  such  a  boat.  Harvey,  who  now 
saw  how  foolish  they  had  been,  confessed  the  truth. 

The  Captain  looked  very  grave,  and  said,  "Young 
gentlemen,  it  is  very  fortunate  that  we  found  you  to-day." 

"  Well,"  said  Phil,  who  had  regained  some  of  his  cour- 
age, "we  are  very  thankful,  for  we  shouldn't  have  liked 
to  ride  out  the  gale  through  another  night." 

"  No,"  said  the  Captain,  solemnly;  "this  gale  has  not 
reached  its  height  yet.  The  sea  will  be  twice  as  heavy 
by  midnight,  and  your  boat  will  be  at  the  bottom  long 
before  to-morrow  morning.  Let  this  be  a  lesson  to  you, 
boys.  Never  attempt  any  more  such  mad  adventures. 
Suppose  you  had  succeeded  in  crossing  the  ocean — which, 
by-the-way,  you  never  could  have  clone  with  your  igno- 
rance of  navigation  —  what  good  would  it  have  done? 
Would  the  world  be  any  better  or  wiser  for  it?  Do  peo- 
ple make  a  practice  of  crossing  the  sea  in  dories  because 
one  man  did  it'  Would  they  make  a  practice  of  crossing 
in  catboats  if  you  had  done  it? 

"I  think,"  he  added,  smiling,  "you  have  learned  a 
good  lesson  at  a  great  risk,  and  when  you  reach  your 
homes  to-morrow  you  will  not  start  out  again  on  such  a 
foolish  errand." 


180 


HAEPER'S    YOUNG    PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


BY  WILLIAM  HAMILTON  GIBSON. 

HE  casual  observer  may 
perhaps  have  noticed  that 
interesting  law  of  nature 
which  governs  the  coloring 
of  flowers,  and  which  con- 
fines the  hues  of  a  given 
flower  or  perhaps  a  botani- 
cal group  of  flowers  to  two 
colors  and  the  combination 
of  these  colors.  The  three 
primary  colors  —  red,  yel- 
low, and  blue  —  are  rarely 
to  be  seen  in  the  blossoms 
of  the  same  botanical  group. 
Thus  we  observe  roses,  hol- 
lyhocks, chrysanthemums, 
and  tulips  in  all  shades  of 
white,  yellow,  pink,  red, 
and  crimson,  even  almost 
approaching  black,  and 
numberless  combinations  of 
these  colors,  but  never 
blue.  The  same  is  true  with 
dahlias,  zinnias,  lilies,  gladi- 
oli, pinks,  and  portulacas. 

On  the  other  hand,  flow- 
ers which  are  notably  blue — 
as  in  the  bell  worts  or  "  Can- 
terbury-bells," and  lark- 
spur, which  vary  from  white 
through  all  shades  of  blue 
to  purple,  pink,  and  even 
reds — never  show  any  trace 
of  yellow.  This  color  lim- 
itation of  blossoms  was 
noted  by  De  Candolle  early 
in  the  present  century,  who 
classified  flowers  in  two  se- 
ries as  to  their  hues.  The 
first,  which  included  the 
yellow,  was  called  the 

Xanthic • ;  the  second,  which  omitted  the  yellow,  the  Cy- 
anic 

World-wide  fame  and  a  comfortable  fortune  await  the 
florist  who  shall  produce  a  variety  of  blue  rose,  tulip, 
hollyhock,  or  dahlia,  or  a  yellow  geranium  or  larkspur, 
which  all  persist  in  their  fidelity  to  their  particular  color 
series.  And  yet  nature  gives  us  occasional  exceptions 
which,  however,  only  serve  by  their  contrast  to  empha- 
size the  universal  law.  Thus  we  see  the  water-lily  group 
— if  we  include  the  two  separate  orders  Nymphcea  arid 
Nelumbo— with  blossoms  of  pink,  yellow,  and  blue.  The 
water-lilies  of  this  latter  color,  allied  to  the  Egyptian  yel- 
low lotus,  which  were  to  be  seen  in  the  New  York  City 
Hall  Park  fountain  last  summer,  were  almost  lost  in  the 
azure  of  the  sky  which  their  surrounding  waters  reflected, 
and  yet  they  clearly  had  no  right  to  include  blue  in  their 
gamut;  purple  or  red  possibly,  but  not  blue. 

But  this  is  not  so  remarkable  an  exception  as  we  find 
in  the  hyacinth,  in  which  the  three  primary  colors  are  to 


THE    MATERIALS. 


be  seen  with  notable  purity,  blues,  yel- 
lows, and  reds,  and  thus  with  possibili- 
ties of  almost  any  conceivable  color,  un- 
der cultivation  and  careful  selection. 

Another   striking   exception,  and   one 
which    would  have  puzzled  De  Candolle 
for  its  color  classification,  is   the  colum- 
bine.     One  common  species  of  the  East- 
ern United  States,  Aquilegia  ccmadensis, 
is  of  a  pure  deep  scarlet  color,  as  every 
country  boy  knows.      If  we  seek  for  our 
columbines   in    the    far    West    we   shall 
miss   this    familiar  type,  and  find   it  re- 
placed by  another  species,  A.  chrysantha,  of  a  fine  clear 
yellow,  or   perhaps  by  its  near  relative,  the  A.,  ccerulea, 
with  its  sky-blue  corolla,  a  common  species  in  the  region 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains.      Columbines,  red,  yellow,  and 
blue,  are  thus  to  be  found  in  a  state  of  nature,  and  we  thus 
find  other  cultivated   forms  which  extend   from    a  pure 
white  through  all  shades  of  purple. 

The  pansy,  that  protean  offspring  from  lowly  "johnny- 
jumper,"  occasionally  comes  very  near  embracing  the 
entire  gamut  of  color  to  which  its  name,  Viola  tricolor, 
would  seem  to  entitle  it.  Blue  pansies  and  yellow  pan- 
sies  we  certainly  have,  but  the  ruddiest  of  its  rich  wine 
tints  when  laid  beside  the  red,  red  rose  at  once  confesses 
its  purple,  the  remnant  of  blue  which  it  cannot  abso- 
lutely eliminate. 

The  blue  rose,  blue  tulip,  blue  dahlia,  and  blue  carna- 
tion have  as  yet  refused  to  respond  to  the  coaxing  arts 
of  the  florist,  but  he  has  at  least  succeeded  in  imposing 
upon  our  credulity  in  a  carnation  pink  of  white,  streaked 
with  peacock  blue.  Bouquets  of  these  uncanny-looking 
blossoms  are  frequently  to  be  seen  in  our  city  flower 
booths,  but  they  smack  of  trickery,  and  the  vendor  is 
rarely  seen  to  look  you  in  the  eye  as  he  responds  "new 
variety  "  to  your  inquiry  as  to  the  peculiar  color. 

"Are  those  natural!1"  I  heard  a  lady  ask  at  a  flower- 
stall  recently,  referring  to  these  pinks. 

"Sure,  madam,"  he  replied,  this  time  with  easy  con- 
science. "They  were  picked  in  the  conservatory  this 
morning." 

But  as  he  folded  the  paper  carefully  about  her  gener- 
ous purchase,  he  didn't  trouble  her  with  the  details  of 
the  subsequent  aniline  bath  to  which  they  were  subject- 
ed, and  of  which  they  bore  plain  evidence  upon  close 
scrutiny. 

But  if  we  are  to  resort  to  hocus-pocus  in  the  tinting 
of  flowers,  there  is  an  artificial  method  available  which 
leaves  this  clumsy  artifice  of  the  blue -green  pinks  far 
behind,  and  which,  withal,  affords  a  very  pretty  experi- 
ment in  chemistry,  albeit  presumably  more  enjoyed  by 
the  operator  than  the  victim. 

A  gentleman  of  the  writer's  acquaintance,  while  visit- 
ing his  sister  at  her  country  home,  noted  her  fondness 
for  pansies,  as  indicated  by  the  numerous  beds  and  bor- 
ders of  the  flowers 
there.  After  ex- 
pressing his  ap- 
preciation and  sur- 
prise at  the  endless 
shades  of  color  in 
the  bouquet  which 
she  was  gathering 
for  the  library  ta- 
ble, he  stooped, 
and  apparently 
plucked  one  of  the 
blossoms  from  a 
bed. 

"Your  pansies 
are  certainly  the 
most  remarkable  A  TUMBLER  CONCE  \LED  NEAR  BY. 


JANUARY  8,  1S95. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


181 


that  I  have  ever  seen.  Here  is  one  which  is  truly  most 
astonishing  in  color,"  he  remarked,  as  he  handed  the 
blossom  to  her. 

It  was  received  with  an  exclamation  of  amazement, 
and  with  eager  glances  at  the  neighborhood  of  the  bed 
from  which  she  presumed  it  had  been  taken.  "Where 
did  you  find  it?"  exclaimed  his  sister,  in  complete  demor- 
alization. "Which  plant  was  it  on?  Why,  I  never 
sau-  such  a  pansy  !  It's  wonderful  !  There  must  be 
more.  I  never  heard  of  such  a  pansy!  Do  show  me 
where  you  picked  it." 

"  I  got  it  from  this  plant  here,  I  think,"  replied  the 
young  man  as  soon  as  he  could  be  heard;  and  stooping 
carelessly  he  plucked  another,  which  proved  even  more 
of  a  surprise  than  the  first,  so  vividly  intense  was  its 
color. 

The  first  specimen  was  a  dark  pansy.     The  two  usu- 
ally deep   purple  upper  petals   now  appeared  of  a  deep 
velvety  peacock  blue.      The  remaining  three  petals  were 
pale  emerald-green  bordered  with  deeper  green.     In  the 
second      blossom, 
the  upper  pair  of 
petals  were   now 
transfigured       in 
vivid        emerald- 
green,  the  rest  of 
the    flower  being 
of    paler   but   al- 
most equally  da/, 
zling  brilliancy. 

The    demorali- 
zation   was   more 
and     more    com- 
plete   as   another 
and    another     of 
the       remarkable 
blossoms  was  res- 
cued from  its  obscurity, 
always    by    the    accom- 
modating   young   man, 
and  added  to  the  grow- 
ing    bouquet.       Neigh- 
bors on   right  and    left 
were  quickly  acquainted 
with  the  remarkable  dis- 
covery, and  a  gathering 
of  excited    natives  soon 
assembled  in  the  parlor 

to  view  the  new  floral  MAKING  A  WHOLE  PLANT  GREEN. 
sensation.  The  pansy 

beds  were  soon  the  scene  of  busy  commotion,  but  in  the 
eager  search  for  the  rare  blooms  fortune  seemed  still  to 
favor  the  young  man,  to  the  exasperation  of  several  of 
the  bright-eyed  young  ladies,  who,  of  course,  did  not  hap- 
pen to  know  of  the  young  man's  occasional  sly  recourse 
to  a  certain  tumbler  concealed  near  by. 

But  the  secret  soon  leaked  out,  and  the  victim  con- 
fessed and  did  penance.  Had  he  realized  what  a  commo- 
tion his  innocent  prank  was  destined  to  create  he  would 
not  have  yielded  to  temptation.  But  his  sister  was  pri- 
marily to  blame.  Why  had  she  placed  that  bottle  so 
conspicuously  upon  his  wash-stand?  He  had  noted  her 
fondness  for  pansies,  and  a  minute  later  had  read  "  Am- 
monia" 011  the  label  of  the  bottle,  and  association  of  ideas 
and  mischief  did  the  rest.  In.  a  casual  stroll  about  the 
pansy  beds  he  had  then  gathered  a  dozen  or  so  of  the 
several  varieties  and  taken  them  to  his  room.  Laying  a 
piece  of  crumpled  paper  in  a  saucer,  he  then  poured  about 
a  teaspoonful  of  the  ammonia  upon  it,  afterward  gently 
laying  the  pansies  in  a  pile  upon  the  paper,  and  thus  five 
from  actual  contact  with  the  liquid,  and  covering  the 
whole  with  a  tumbler.  In  two  or  three  minutes  tin- 
fumes  of  the  ammoniacal  gas  had  done  their  work,  and  lo ! 


when  he  removed  the  tumbler  his  pansies  had  doffed  their 
blues  and  purples,  and  were  transfigured  in  velvets  of  all 
imaginable  emerald  and  peacock  and  mineral  greens, 
though  still  retaining  their  perfect  shape  and  petal  tex- 
ture. 

To  more  completely  confound  the  innocent  with  this 
experiment  the  "operator"  should 
suddenly  discover  an  entire  plant 
with  all  its  flowers  thus  tinted  in 
emerald.  A  feat  which  may  be  ac- 
complished by  submitting  the  whole 
plant  to  similar  treatment  beneath 
a  bell  glass  or  other  air-tight  vessel 
&  ,  •  or  box,  in  which  case  the  amount 

H<&  of  ammonia  used  should  be  pro- 

portionately increased.  If  the 
concentrated  ammonia  is  em- 
ployed, a  very  small  quantity 
will  be  sufficient. 

Flowers     thus    treated     will 
last  in  an   unaltered   condition 
for   several    hours,  though    the 
treatment    is    really    injurious, 
even   destructive,  to  the  tissues 
of  flower  as  well  as  plant. 
Various   other    blossoms    re- 
spond     in      their 
own        particular 
virescent  hues  to 
the  vapors  of  am- 
monia,     as       the 
reader     will     dis- 


cover upon  exper- 
iment. 

The  fumes  of 
sulphur  confined 
beneath  a  glass, 

as  from  a  few  common  old-fashioned 
matches,  will  play  all  sorts  of  similar 
pranks  with  the  colors  of  petals.  A  lit- 
tle experimenting  in  this  direction  will 
afford  many  surprises. 


THE  RIVAL   MOTHERS. 

THIS  story  is  beyond  doubt  original  to  Japan  in  its  present 
form,  but  it  bears  a  remarkable  resemblance  to  another 
celebrated  judgment  given  more  than  two  thousand  years  ago 
on  the  other  side  of  the  world. 

About  a  century  and  a  half  ago  a  woman  who  was  a  servant 
in  the  house  of  a  daimi/o  had  a  little  j;irl  born  to  her.  But  it 
was  inconvenient  for  her  to  have  the  child  with  her  in  the  dni- 
myo's  mansion,  and  so  she  put  the  little  one  out  to  nurse  \\  ith  a 
woman  in  the  neighboring  village.  The  child  grew  to  be-  very 
intelligent,  and  the  foster-mother,  who  was  a  heartless  woman, 
thought  she  saw  an  opportunity  to  earn  money  through  the 
girl's  services,  and  determined  to  keep  her.  Accordingly,  when 
the,  mother's  term  of  service  expired,  and  she  came  to  get  back 
her  child,  the  foster-mother  treated  her  claim  as  false,  said  the 
child  was  her  own,  and  utterly  refused  to  give  her  up. 

So  at  last  they  came  before  Oka,  the,  town  magistrate  "!'  Ycdo, 
who,  after  some  thought,  hit  upun  a  novel  plan  of  deriding.  He 
placed  the  child  between  the  two  mothers,  had  each  one  take  an 
arm  of  the  child,  and  them  ordered  them  to  pull!  He  could 
then  tell,  he  said,  which  one  drserved  to  have  the  child.  The. 
foster-mother,  thinking  only  of  winning,  pulled  with  all  her 
might;  but  the  true  mother,  full  of  her  nti'eclion  for  her  child. 
couldn't  bear  to  inflict  on  it  such  brutal  pain  :  and  she  let  <;o  as 
soon  as  she  felt  the  other  woman  pulling.  "The  child  is  mine  !'' 
exclaimed  the  foster-mother,  triumphantly.  "  Not  so  !"  said  Oka, 
sternly:  "you  are  a  pretender:  this  other  is  the  true  mothei." 

Then  the  false  mother  confessed  her  deception,  and  begged 
for  pardon.  The  people-,  \\hen  they  heard  of  the  judgment,  were 
full  of  admiration  for  the  penetration  and  sagacity  of  their  great 
magistrate. 


182 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


AFLOAT  WITH  THE   FLAG.* 


BY    W.  J.   HENDERSON. 


fll  AFTER    XIX. 
BREASTWORKS    AROUND   THE    GUNS. 

AN  hour  later  the  whale-boat  safely  reached  the  De- 
troit, and  Harold  made  his  report.      Mr.  Crane  ex- 
pressed his  approval,  and  complimented  the  boy  on  his 
clever  escape. 

"  Hal,"  said  George,  as  they  were  turning  in,  "I  hard- 
ly know  what  to  say  to  you.  I  came  near  ruining  the 
whole  thing-." 

"Well,  George,  if  you  don't  know  what  to  say,  don't 
say  a  word,  and  let's  go  to  sleep.  We  haven't  much 
time." 

A  few  minutes  later  both  boys  were  in  the  land  of 
dreams.  Harold  was  the  first  to  awake  on  the  call 
of  the  messenger,  at  ten  minutes  of  four  in  the  morn- 
ing. . 

"  Turn  out,  old  man,"  said  Harold,  shaking  George. 

"  All  right,"  exclaimed  George,  rolling  out  of  his  bunk, 
and  beginning  to  tumble  into  his  clothes. 

It  was  clear  and  still  when  the  boys  reported  on  deck 
for  the  morning  watch. 

"  It's  going  to  be  an  active  watch  this  morning,  young 
gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Bun-ell,  the  officer  of  the  deck, 
"so  keep  your  weather  eyes  lifting." 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir,"  came  the  regular  response. 

"George,"  said'  Harold,  a  minute  later,  as  they  paused 
a  moment  near  the  mainmast,  "look  down  yonder." 

The  young  cadet  turned  his  gaze  in  the  direction  in- 
dicated, and  slowly  but  deeply  the  details  of  the  scene 
impressed  themselves  upon  his  mind,  there  to  remain  as 
long  as  he  lived,  the  memorial  record  of  his  first  moving 
experience  in  the  service  of  his  country's  flag.  Admiral 
da  Gama  had  not  replied  to  the  last  communication  of 
Admiral  Benham,  but  lie  had  read  between  its  curt  lines 
the  challenge  of  a  spirit  that  would  not  brook  light  treat- 
ment. The  bay  swam  in  the  glory  of  the  morning  sky, 
silver  blue  streaked  with  dull  crimson  and  purple.  Not 
a  cat's-paw  roughened  the  polished  surface  of  the  great 
natural  basin,  which  was  lambent  with  the  radiant  re- 
flection of  the  heavens.  The  gray  slopes  of  the  Organ 
Mountains  formed  a  strong  background  for  the  picture. 
In  the  foreground  the  troubled  city  of  Rio  de  Janeiro, 
with  its  taller  turrets  lined  in  sombre  silhouette  against 
the  sky,  seemed  to  rest  in  temporary  dreamless  peace. 
Before  the  water-front,  less  than  half  a  mile  from  the 
shore,  lay  Captain  Lockwood's  bark,  the  Alma,  swinging 
to  her  arched  cable,  her  yards  stripped  and  squared,  and 
her  jib-boom  housed.  A  slender  vane  fluttering  at  her 
main-truck,  fanned  by  some  gentle  upper  current  that 
did  not  touch  the  sleeping  water,  was  the  only  visible 
sign  of  life  aboard  her. 

Just  beyond  her  lay  the  rebel  war-ships  Trajano,Gua- 
nabara,  and  Libertacle,  the  last  outside  and  furthest  to 
the  north.  Their  decks  were  silent,  not  a  figure  show- 
ing above  the  bulwarks.  Slim  night  pennants  trembled 
aloft,  but  thin,  steady  streams  of  smoke  flowed  from  their 
smoke-stacks,  showing  that  there  were  fires  in  the  fur- 
naces and  steam  in  the  boilers.  Beyond  these  ships,  fur- 
ther out  in  the  bay,  lay  the  Tamandare  and  the  massive 
hull  and  frowning  turrets  of  the  formidable  Aquidulm  u 
These  two  ships  were  riding  to  short  cables,  and  both  had 
steam  up.  Frank  Lockwood  was  striding  up  and  down 
the  Aquidaban's  quarter-deck.  His  face  was  deathly 
pale,  and  there  were  blue  hollows  under  his  eyes.  He 
was  suffering  the  greatest  agony  of  mind  that  had  ever 
*  Begun  in  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  No.  784. 


come  into  his  young  life,  for  he  feared  that  a  general  en- 
gagement between  the  insurgents  and  the  American  fleet 
was  imminent.  He  had  determined  that  he  must  do  his 
duty,  but  the  fierce  desire  of  his  heart  almost  amounted 
to  a  prayer  that  the  first  fire  of  an  American  gun  might 
stretch  him  on  the  deck. 

"This  is  my  punishment,"  he  murmured,  half  aloud. 
"I  might  have  known  that  my  wild  craving  for  advent- 
ure would  bring  its  own  retribution.  But  would  I  have 
suffered  any  remorse  if  I  had  not  been  brought  face  to 
face  with  the  possibility  of  fighting  against  my  own  coun- 
trymen? No,  no;  this  is  a  lesson  for  me." 

Fortunately  for  Frank  he  could  not  know  what  an  im- 
portant part  his  classmates  were  to  take  in  the  approach- 
ing scene  or  he  would  have  been  in  still  deeper  pain. 
They  were  at  their  early  morning  duties  aboard  the  De- 
troit, and  their  thoughts  were  not  of  Frank  at  that  mo- 
ment. Harold  had  mounted  the  forecastle-deck,  where 
he  had  a  clearer  view  of  the  bay.  He  caught  George's 
eye,  and  nodded  tp  him  to  look  out  again  through  the 
port.  As  he  did  so  he  caught  sight  of  a  tug,  well  known 
to  be  in  the  employ  of  the  insurgents.  She  was  steam- 
ing out  from  the  shore  of  Cobras  Island.  She  ran  along 
the  line  of  American  ships,  and  it  was  easy  to  see  that 
her  people  were  taking  accurate  note  of  the  condition  of 
preparation  aboard  each  vessel.  Having  completed  her 
tour  of  observation,  she  hurried  away  with  half  an  acre  of 
foam  under  her  bows,  and  went  alongside  the  Liber- 
tade. 

"Aha!"  said  Harold  to  himself,  "she  is  carrying  the 
news  to  his  highness." 

"Mr.  Briscomb,"  said  Mr.  Burrell  at  this  moment, 
"send  for  the  bugler." 

George  was  surprised  at  the  order,  for  it  was  half  an 
hour  earlier  than  the  usual  time  for  getting  the  bugler 
ready  to  sound  the  reveille;  but  of  course  he  answered 
with  the  ever-ready  "Ay,  ay,  sir!"  and  obeyed  at  once. 
It  was  just  4.30  o'clock  when  the  brisk  notes  of  "I  can't 
get  'em  up"  rang  out  on  the  berth-deck,  followed  by  the 
shrill  piping  of  the  whistle  of  the  boatswain's  mate,  and 
the  familiar  cry:  "Turn  out  all  hands!  Up  all  ham- 
mocks!" But  the  routine  order  was  destined  not  to  be 
obeyed  that  morning.  Before  the  bugle  had  ceased  to 
sound,  the  Executive  Officer,  Mr.  Crane,  swung  himself 
on  deck  with  his  cap  jammed  well  down  over  his 
eyes. 

"Good-morning,  Mr.  Burrell,"  he  said;  "have  you 
issued  the  order  about  the  hammocks  yet?" 

"No,  sir,"  was  the  answer.  "I  thought  it  would  pre- 
vent confusion  to  wait  till  the  men  began  to  come  on 
deck." 

"Very  good,"  said  Mr.  Crane.  "  I'll  attend  to  it  my- 
self." 

Mr.  Burrell  saluted  and  turned  away.  Mr.  Crane 
mounted  the  bridge.  George,  who  had  heard  the  brief 
dialogue,  waited  anxiously  to  see  what  was  coming  next. 
His  suspense  was  short.  The  petty  officers  and  men 
came  tumbling  up  the  hatchways  and  lined  themselves 
along  the  rails  ready  to  pass  up  their  hammocks  to  the 
s  towers. 

"Keep  fast  with  those  hammocks!"  was  Mr.  Crane's 
curt  order. 

Then  he  called  Harold  and  George,  and  in  a  few  words 
told  them  what  he  wished.  The  astonished  crew  were 
set  to  work  building  breastworks  with  the  hammocks. 
One  was  made  across  the  poop  abaft  the  six-inch  rifle, 
and  others  around  the  wheel  and  across  the  ends  of  the 
bridge.  As  the  men  started  at  this  unaccustomed  task, 
a  low,  irresistible  murmur  ran  along  the  deck  and  for  a 
moment  threatened  to  grow  into  a  cheer.  The  men 
looked  into  one  another's  faces  with  blazing  eyes  and 
fast-coming  breath. 


JANUAKY  8,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


383 


"S'help  me,  bloomin'  bully!"  muttered  Peter  Morris, 
beginning  to  look  eager,  "  but  it  means  fig-lit!" 

"Cool  and  steady's  the  word,  lad,"  said  Harold,  qui- 
etly. 

The  cockswain  looked  the  boy  straight  in  the  eye,  nod- 
ded his  head  approvingly,  and  said, 

"Cool  an'  stiddy,  you  says,  sir,  an'  cool  an'  stiddy  it 
is." 

The  work  of  building  the  barricades  occupied  most  of 
the  crew  for  three-quarters  of  an  hour.  Then  Mr.  Crane 
gave  orders  to  lower  the  four  boats  at  the  quarter-davits 
and  moor  them  off  the  ship.  By  the  time  this  had  been 
done  and  the  men  were  back  on  deck,  Commander  Brown- 
son  came  from  his  cabin  and  mounted  the  bridge.  At 
the  same  instant  Harold,  whose  eyes  were  quicker  than 
those  of  the  quartermaster  on  watch,  touched  his  cap  and 
said, 

"Signal  from  the  flag-ship,  sir." 

"Two-forty-nine — get  under  way,"  said  Mr.  Crane. 

The  next  moment  the  order  to  weigh  anchor  was  given 
aboard  the  Detroit,  and  at  the  same  second  George  and 
Harold  saw  that  all  the  other  American  war-ships  were 
under  way. 

CHAPTER    XX. 
READY     TO     FIGHT. 

"  FOUL  'anchor,  sir." 

That  was  Harold's  report  as  the  anchor  rose  into  sight, 
and  consequently  the  Detroit  advanced  at  a  very  slow 
pace  while  the  work  of  clearing  the  anchor  was  in  prog- 
,  ress.  She  was  moving  straight  down  the  bay,  and  the 
other  ships  of  the  American  fleet  were  turning  over  their 
propellers  just  enough  to  make  steerageway.  Now  an- 
other string  of  flags  rose  to  the  San  Francisco's  signal 
yard-arm,  and  a  moment  later  the  answering  pennants 
were  flying  on  the  New  York,  Newark,  and  Charleston, 
but  not  on  the  Detroit.  Harold  looked  wonderingly  at 
the  Commander  and  his  aides  on  the  bridge;  but  it  was 
evident  that  they  had  noted  the  signals.  Harold  was 
puzzled  for  a  moment,  but  suddenly  he  said  to  himself: 

"  We  got  our  orders  at  the  meeting  last  night." 

Commander  Brownson  picked  up  a  binocular  and  took 
a  look  at  the  insurgent  ships  Guanabara,  Trajano,  and 
Libertade. 

"Our  friends  over  there,"  he  said,  laying  down  the 
glass,  "are  preparing  to  receive  us." 

He  smiled  as  he  spoke,  and  then  curtly  ordered  the 
man  at  the  wheel  to  port  a  little.  The  Detroit's  head 
swung  slowly  around  till  it  pointed  toward  the  centre  of 
the  opening  between  Enchadac  and  Cobras  islands,  when 
the  order  was  given  to  go  ahead  steadily.  By  this  time 
it  had  begun  to  dawn  upon  all  hands  that  the  Detroit 
had  special  duty  to  perform,  and  there  was  an  air  of 
breathless  expectation  all  through  the  ship.  At  6.25  the 
bugler  was  again  summoned,  and  at  6.29  this  brisk  call 
was  sounded: 


I 


"  General  quarters!"  exclaimed  Harold,  as  he  sent  post- 
haste for  his  sword. 

"  This  here  are  a-gettin'  to  look  like  fun,"  said  Peter. 

In  a  moment  the  ship  was  alive  with  a  great  bustle  of 
action.  The  men  of  the  Navigator's  Division  set  to 
work  to  rig  the  hand  steering-gear  in  case  the  steam-gear 
should  be  disabled  by  shot.  They  also  brought  axes  and 
hatchets  for  clearing  away  incumbrances  on  the  deck. 
A  spare  compass  was  placed  in  a  safe  spot,  leads  and  lines 
were  laid  near  the  foot  of  the  fore-shrouds,  and  hammock 


and  boom  cloths  were  stopped  down.  Chronometers  and 
other  instruments  of  navigation  had  to  be  stowed  away 
out  of  the  reach  of  shot  or  the  influence  of  the  jar  of 
heavy  gun-fire.  Fire  buckets  were  put  in  order,  the  cables 
extra  stoppered  and  made  ready  for  running,  and  extra 
lashings  put  on  the  anchors. 

The  surgeon  opened  up  his  case  of  instruments,  and 
made  ready  his  operating-table  in  the  sick-bay.  Basins, 
towels,  lint,  bandages,  and  all  the  dread  paraphernalia  of 
the  hospital  stood  in  ghostly  array  in  the  white-walled 
apartment;  while  the  bay-men  bustled  about  adding  here 
and  there  a  touch  to  the  preparations.  Tackles  and 
slings  were  rigged  to  lower  away  the  wounded,  and  the 
grave-faced  surgeon  sat,  with  his  coat  off  and  his  sleeves 
rolled  up,  waiting. 

In  the  powder  division,  charged  with  the  all-important 
business  of  distributing  am  munition,  activity  was  at  fever- 
heat,  yet  everything  was  done  coolly  and  in  order.  The 
officer  in  command  of  the  division  gave  the  keys  of  the 
magazine  and  fixed-ammunition  rooms  to  the  gunner, 
who  distributed  them  among  his  mates.  The  men  al- 
lotted to  the  magazines  put  on  their  felt-soled  shoes  and 
magazine  clothes,  and  carried  wet  swabs  and  cans  of 
water  for  drinking  or  drowning  fire  to  their  places.  The 
screens  were  let  down,  scuttles  opened,  chutes  placed,  and 
shell-whips  rigged  to  hoist  the  heavy  shot  to  the  spar- 
deck.  Hose  was  uncoiled  and  let  out,  the  steam-pump 
made  ready,  and  water-tight  bulkheads  closed.  When  all 
was  complete,  and  the  scuttle -men,  runner -boys,  and 
whippers  at  their  proper  stations,  the  officer  in  command 
of  the  division  reported  to  the  Executive  Officer. 

On  the  spar-deck  the  guns'  crews,  under  the  watchful 
eyes  of  the  division  officers,  prepared  the  big  weapons  to 
do  their  deadly  work.  The  gun  captains  of  the  six-inch 
guns  threw  open  the  breeches,  inspected  the  bores,  look- 
ed to  the  gas-checks,  put  in  place  the  breech-sights,  and 
saw  that  the  necessary  appliances  were  at  hand.  Other 
men  freed  the  elevating-gears,  placed  the  loading-trays 
under  the  breeches,  laid  the  rammers  and  sponges  on  the 
deck,  brought  tubs  of  water  and  put  them  at  the  rear  of 
the  guns,  and  provided  cutlasses,  revolvers,  rifles,  and 
bayonets  for  the  crews.  At  the  four-inch  rapid-fire  guns 
similar  preparations,  though  of  a  simpler  nature,  were 
going  on.  At  the  Hotchkiss  six-pounders  the  crews  of 
four  men  rapidly  made  the  pieces  ready  for  loading.  In 
the  tops  men  were  hoisting  ammunition  for  the  guns 
aloft.  The  marine  guard,  with  rifles  at  an  order,  mustered 
on  the  poop-deck,  ready  to  be  sent  where  their  services 
would  do  the  most  good.  As  each  division  completed 
its  preparations  the  officer  in  charge  of  it  reported  to  the 
First  Lieutenant.  Little  more  than  three  minutes  elapsed 
before  the  entire  battery  was  ready  for  loading.  Com- 
mander Brownson  smiled  slightly  and  nodded  at  Mr. 
Crane,  who  gave  the  order: 

"  Sponge!     Service  charge,  common  shell." 
"Worry  good,   too,"  murmured    Peter;    "makes    the 
bore  slick." 

This  order  applied  only  to  the  six-inch  guns.  The  big 
bristle  sponges  were  dipped  into  the  tubs,  and  then  run 
through  the  chambers  of  the  guns.  The  shell-men  and 
powder-men  went  to  the  ammunition  scuttles  and  received 
the  powder  and  shells  from  the  men  at  the  whips. 

"Load!"  said  Mr.  Crane,  in  a  low  sharp  tone  that 
was  audible  all  over  the  ship. 

The  shell-men  of  the  six-inch  guns  entered  their  shells, 
which  were  pushed  home  by  the  loaders,  the  powder  fol- 
lowing- in  a  similar  manner. 

"W'ich  the  same  it  goes  in  at  the  back  door  werry 
quiet,"  muttered  Peter,  "  but  comes  out  o'  the  front  werry 
lively." 

"Peter,"  said  Harold,  trying  to  look  stern  but  with 
smiling  eyes,  "  you  must  keep  quiet." 

The  second  captains  closed  the  breeches,  and  the  first 


184 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


"GENERAL  QUARTERS!" 

captains  inserted  primers,  hooked  the  lanyards,  full 
cocked  the  looks,  and  stepped  back.  At  each  rapid-fire 
four-inch  gun  No.  4  of  its  crew  stepped  up  with  the  car- 
tridge resting  in  the  hollow  of  his  riglit  arm,  and  shoved 
it  into  the  breech,  which  No.  3  closed  with  a  snap.  The 
Hotchkiss  six-pounders  and  the  machine-guns  aloft  were 
also  loaded,  and  for  a  few  seconds  nothing  was  heard 
save  the  clanking  of  breech-plugs  as  the  guns  were  closed. 
And  now  every  division  officer  and  gun  captain  stood 
gazing  intently  on  the  Executive  Officer,  whose  calm  and 
immovable  countenance  was  as  inexpressive  as  the  face 
of  the  Sphinx.  Commander  Brownson  stood  leaning 
lightly  against  the  rail  on  the  starboard  wing  of  the 
bridge.  He  knew  that  his  ship  was  ready  for  action,  and 
he  was  watching  through  his  glass  the  movements  of 
the  baric  Alum  and  the  insurgent  war-ships.  It  was  evi- 
dent that  Captain  Lockwood  was  aware  of  the  progress 
of  events,  and  was  preparing  to  make  an  attempt  to  move 
his  vessel.  It  was  equally  plain  that  the  crews  of  the 
Gnaiiabara  and  Trajano  had  gone  to  quarters.  In  the 
momentary  breathing-spell  that  now  came,  Harold  and 
<reori:e  had  time  to  look  about  ihem.  Harold  was  on 
the  forecastle  deck  beside  the  six-inch  gun,  which  was 
under  his  immediate  charge,  and  George  was  posted  be- 
tween the  two  forward  four-inch  guns.  The  Detroit  was 
siiMiuing  ahead  at  a  four-knot  gait,  the  ripples  parting 
gracefully  around  her  moderate  ram  bow  and  streaming 
away  sli-rnward  in  glistening  ribbons.  The  sunlight 
danced  on  the  polished  curves  of  her  brass-work,  and  laid 
splashes  of  silver  on  the  chocolate  chases  of  her  loaded 
guns.  An  intense  silence  reigned.  The  officers  on  the 
bridge,  with  swords  and  revolvers  at  their  hips,  stood  like 
statues.  The  men  on  the  deck  were  motionless,  every 


dark  eager  face  turned  toward  the 
bridge.  A  dead  calm  prevailed  in  the 
bay,  and  it  seemed  as  if  Nature  herself 
was  astonished  at  the  unwonted  spec- 
tacle of  an  American  man-of-war  pre- 
pared to  fight. 
Bang! 

Every  man  started  as  the  report  of  a 
gun  rang  out. 

"  Now  what's  coming?"  Harold  asked 
himself,  as  lie  listened  for  the  shrieking 
of  a  shell. 

'  'Tain't  fur  us,  sir,"  said  Peter,  in  a 
low  tone.  "It  are  a  small  pup  of  a 
rebel  tug  up  yonder." 

"Here  they  come;  I  wonder  what 
they're  up  to?" 

At  that  moment  Commander  Brown- 
son  had  the  Detroit's  engines  stopped, 
and  gave  the  crew  orders  to  stand  at 
ease.  He  was  entirely  too  wary  to  be 
drawn  into  the  local  quarrel. 

"Them  small  fry  is  exchangin'  of 
compliments  with  the  shore  batteries," 
remarked  Peter. 

"I  wonder  what  our  own  ships  are 
doing?"  said  Harold. 

"  They  ain't  a-loah'n',  sir."  said  Peter. 
"  Look,  sir.  There's  the  'Frisco  a-look- 
in'out  fur  the  batteries  on  Cobras  an' 
Enchadas  islands." 

"Yes,  and  here's  the  Charleston  a 
mile  astern  of  us.  She  must  be  our 
support." 

"An'  look  at  the  Newark,  sir,  a-lay- 
in'  broadside  to  broadside  with  the  Ta- 
mandare." 

"And  the  New  York  is  laid  opposite 
the  Aquidaban,"  said  Harold.  "That 
will  be  the  centre  of  the  fight." 

"Lord  bless  ye,  sir,"  said  Peter,  "it  '11  never  git  as  fur 
as  that.  If  we  kicks  'em  oncet  they'll  squeal  an' 
run." 

"  And,  Peter,  does  it  occur  to  you  who's  to  give  the  first 
kick?" 

"  Wy,  we  is;  an'  bully  well  we'll  do  't,  too,  sir." 
And  then  that  one  big,  significant  thought  seemed  to 
flash  upon  the  minds  of  all  the  Detroit's  men.  The  little 
gunboat  had  been  honored  with  the  task  of  making  the 
initial  movement.  She  was  to  voice  Uncle  Sam's  impera- 
tive demand  for  justice  to  his  merchant-ships  and  respect 
for  the  stars  and  stripes.  Every  man  turned  a  hungry 
gaze  on  the  Gttanabara.  Trn/aiio,  and  Libertade,  and  the 
gun  captains  fingered  their  lanyards. 

The  insurgent  tugs,  barking  like  mongrel  curs,  swung 
in  wide  curves  away  from  the  shore,  and  circled  out 
among  the  merchantmen.  A  few  scattered  sullen  shots, 
and  they  steamed  slowly  away.  Commander  Brownson 
swept  the  bay  with  his  binoculars,  pausing  for  a  more 
careful  survey  of  the  Alma.  He  hung  the  glass  on  the 
bridge  rail,  placed  himself  beside  the  engine-room  tele- 
graph, and  signalled, 
"  Ahead  slowly." 

The  propellers  began  to  revolve,  and  the  gunboat  ad- 
vanced. Harold  noted  that  the  shore  was  black  with 
people,  and  that  the  roofs  of  the  houses  in  the  city  were 
crowded  with  persons  eager  to  see  what  the  despised 
Yankees  were  about  to  do. 

"  Port,"  commanded  Commander  Brownson. 
The  helmsman  obeyed   the  order,  and  steadily  the  De- 
troit swung  around,  heading  so  as  to  pass  between  the 
bark  Alma  and  the  insurgent  war-ship  Trajano. 
[TO  n K 


THE    LITTLE     RED     BOOK. 


BY    ELLEN    DOUGLAS    DELAND. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

fllHE  next  day  was  Sunday.  Eleanor  awoke  late  from 
_L  the  heavy  sleep  into  which  she  had  fallen  towards 
morning.  The  window  of  her  little  room  faced  the  east,and 
though  the  blinds  were  closed,  the  spring  sun  shone  in 
through  the  cracks,  making  golden  bars  on  the  drawn 
shade. 

It  was  not  her  own  room,  and  she  had  never  slept  here 
before.  Where  was  she? 

Eleanor  raised  herself  on  one  elbow  and  looked  about. 
The  door  into  the  adjoining  room  was  half  open,  and  she 
recognized  it  as  belonging  to  Ruth  Barnes.  Oh  yes,  she 
was  spending  the  night  here.  But  what  was  the  heavy 
weight  at  her  heart?  What  had  happened? 

Then  she  remembered  Bertha's  words,  and  fell  back  on 
the  pillow.  But  could  they  be  true?  Did  Bertha  know? 
Did  Mrs.  Brewster  know?  Surely  her  mother  would  not 
have  deceived  her. 

She  recalled  many  things  her  mother  had  told  her 
about  the  place  where  she  was  born,  and  how  her  father 
had  died  when  she  was  only  a  year  old,  and  all  the  lit- 
tle details  of  her  babyhood.  She  thought  Bertha  must 
be  mistaken.  Perhaps  it  was  not  true  at  all.  Bertha 
had  not  seemed  to  like  her  lately.  Probably  she  had  only 
said  this  to  frighten  her.  At  any  rate,  she  would  ask 
Madge  what  she  knew  about  it. 

She  tried  to  rise,  but  her  head  ached ;  and  Ruth,  coming 
in,  persuaded  her  to  stay  in  bed,  at  least  until  after  break- 
fast. Mrs.  Barnes  would  not  allow  her  to  go  to  Sunday- 
school  and  church;  so  Madge  went  off  without  her,  and 
it  was  not  until  late  in  the  day  that  the  two  girls  were 
alone  together.  Eleanor  felt  better  as  the  day  wore  on. 
The  load  at  her  heart  lightened,  and  by  the 
time  afternoon  came  she  felt  and  looked 
like  her  usual  self. 

Mrs.  Barnes  wished  her  to  spend  anoth- 
er night  with  them,  but  her  mother  had 
told  her  to  be  at  home,  so  she  declined  the 
invitation,  begging  that  Madge  might  be 
allowed  to  go  home  with  her. 

The  two  girls  departed  at  last,  carrying 
their  travelling  bags,  and  feeling  that  it 
was  a  great  "lark"  to  keep  house  entirely 
alone  without  any  grown  people.  They 
had  had  many  good  times  together,  but 
anything  quite  so  unique.as  this  had  never 
happened  before. 

Old  Catherine,  who  had  lived  with  Mrs. 
Rogers  for  years,  gave  them  their  tea,  and 
after  that  was  over  they  took  their  books 
and  settled  down  by  the  library  lamp  to 
read  for  a  time  before  going  to  bed. 

"I  think  I'll  tell  Madge  about  it  now," 
thought  Eleanor.  "I  don't  believe  a  word 
of  it,  but  I'll  tell  her,  to  see  what  she  says." 

She  had  grown  light-hearted  during  the 
day,  and  felt  that  it  was  quite  impossible 
that  Bertha  had  spoken  the  truth.  She 
could  almost  laugh  about  it  now.  Then, 
aloud,  she  said : 

"Madge,  Bertha  Weld  told  me  the  most 
dreadful  thing  yesterday!  It  was  what 
made  me  ill." 

Madge's  book  was  down  in  an  instant. 

"What!  You  don't  mean  to  say  Bertha 
has  told  you?  Oh,  I  begged  her  not  to  I 
I'll  never  speak  to  her  again — I'll — 

"But,  Madge!"  cried  Eleanor.  "Did 
you  know  it,  and  is  it  true?  You  can't 
know  what  I  mean  !" 


"Yes,  I  do.  You  mean  about  you  and  your  mother. 
I  know  all  about  it,  but  I  didn't  want  you  to  hear  it." 

"Madge, "said  Eleanor,  in  a  low  voice,  springing  from 
•her  chair,  "how  long  have  you  known  it?" 

"About  two  weeks.  We  found  it  out  that  day — don't 
you  know?" 

"What  day?" 

"Why,  the  day  we  read  Mrs.  Brewster's  diary  and  you 
wouldn't  stay.  We  found  it  out  in  that.  Don't  look  so 
queer,  Nell !  It  isn't  so  dreadful." 

Eleanor  did  not  speak. 

"I  didn't  want  Bertha  to  say  anything  about  it.  I 
haven't  told  any  one," she  continued,  "  not  even  mamma. 
I  knew  Bertha  had  told  some  of  the  girls,  but  I  never 
dreamed  that  she  would  really  tell  you.  I  think  it  was 
awfully  mean  of  her,  and  I  wouldn't  mind  it  a  bit  if  I 
were  you,  Nell  dear!" 

"Wouldn't  you  mind  if  you  suddenly  found  out  that 
Mrs.  Barnes  wasn't  your  own  mother,  and  you  didn't 
really  belong  to  her  at  all?" 

"Yes,  I  would,"  said  Madge,  honestly. 

"Well,  then,  you  can  just  imagine —  Oh,  Madge!" 
cried  Eleanor,  breaking  oft'  suddenly,  "I  can't  stand  it. 
I  thought  it  wasn't  true,  but  iiowr  you  say  it  is,  and  you 
saw  it  in  Mrs.  Brewster's  diary.  It  must  be  true.  Mamma, 
mamma!  Where  are  you?  I  want  you.  Oh,  you  are 
not  my  mother!  What  shall  I  do?" 

The  child  was  on  the  floor  in  an  agony  of  grief. 

Madge  was  terrified.  She  could  do  or  say  nothing  to 
comfort  Eleanor  in  the  least.  Old  Catherine,  corning  in, 
was  frightened  too.  She  knew  nothing  of  the  cause  of 
this  strange  attack,  and  imagining  Eleanor  to  be  in  pain, 


MAMMA,   MAMMA!     WHERE    ARE   YOU?      I    WANT    TOf." 


186 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


she  put  her  to  bed,  and  proceeded  to  make  a  huge  mus- 
tard plaster,  her  favorite  panacea  for  all  ailments. 

But  the  child  became  quieter  after  a  time.  Her  calm- 
ness was  unnatural,  but  neither  Madge  nor  Catherine 
suspected  it.  They  both  felt  relieved,  and  Madge  went  to 
bed  and  to  sleep  longing  for  the  next  day,  when  she 
might  tell  her  mother  all  about  it  and  ask  her  advice. 
She  could  not  mention  the  diary,  because  of  her  promise, 
but  she  could  say  that  Bertha  had  received  the  informa- 
tion from  a  trustworthy  source. 

But  as  it  happened,  when  Madge  went  home  the  next 
day,  after  school,  she  found  that  her  mother  and  sister  had 
gone  to  the  city,  and  would  not  return  until  evening. 
She  contented  herself  by  going  to  Bertha  Weld  and  giv- 
ing her  a  piece  of  her  mind,  as  she  expressed  it.  But 
Bertha  would  not  release  her  from  her  promise  about  the 
diary. 

"Very  well, "said  Madge,  at  parting,  "Eleanor  is  very 
ill,  and  if  she  dies  it  is  all  your  fault  for  telling  her!" 

"  I  guess  she  won't  die  this  time,"  replied  Bertha,  scorn- 
fully. "And  as  for  you,  you're  not  to  be  trusted  at  all. 
First  you're  friends  with  one. person  and  then  with  an- 
other. I  like  steady  people.  You  are  as  fickle  as  a 
weather-vane." 

Madge  walked  away,  feeling  that  there  was  a  good  deal 
of  truth  in  Bertha's  remarks. 

In  the  mean  time  Eleanor  was  tossing  about  in  a  high 
fever.  Catherine,  thoroughly  frightened,  sent  for  Dr. 
Brewster,  the  husband  of  Mrs.  Brewster,  whose  diary  had 
caused  all  the  trouble. 

He  looked  at  Eleanor,  felt  her  pulse,  and  then  said  to 
Catherine,  "  I  shall  send  for  her  mother  at  once." 

"  She's  not  my  mother,"  said  Eleanor,  in  a  dull  voice. 

"  Oh,  good  land !  She's  wandering!  She's  out  of  her 
head!"  exclaimed  Catherine,  throwing  her  apron  over 
her  face. 

"Hush!"  said  Dr.  Brewster,  sternly,  though  he  thought 
the  same  thing  himself.  "Go  at  once  and  get  Mrs. 
Rogers's  address.  If  Mrs.  Brewster  were  at  home  she 
would  stay  with  the  child  until  her  mother  comes." 

"  Not  Mrs.  Brewster!"  cried  Eleanor,  getting  very  much 
excited.  "Not  Mrs.  Brewster!  She  knows  all  about  it. 
And  mamma  is  not  my  mother.  Mrs.  Brewster  said  so." 

"Very  well,  my  dear,"  said  the  doctor,  soothingly. 
"  You  shall  have  a  nice  trained  nurse  in  a  cap  and  apron. 
How  will  that  do?" 

Eleanor  said  nothing  to  this.  She  lay  with  heavy  eyes 
looking  at  him. 

"Just  think  of  it,  Dr.  Brewster!  She's  not  my  own 
mother  at  all.  Do  you  hear?"  as  he  made  no  answer. 

"Yes,  I  hear,"  he  replied,  quietly.  "Suppose  we 
don't  talk  any  more  about  it  now." 

"Oh,  it  is  true!"  moaned  Eleanor.  "He  knows  it, 
and  he  can't  deny  it." 

And  then  Catherine  came  back,  and  the  doctor  hurried 
off  to  telegraph  to  Mrs.  Rogers  and  to  secure  a  trained 
nurse  for  the  little  girl,  whom  he  considered  very  ill  in- 
deed. 

It  was  evening  when  Mrs.  Rogers  arrived.  She  hast- 
ened to  Eleanor,  but  the  sight  of  her  excited  the  child  to 
such  a  degree  that  the  nurse  was  forced  to  ask  her  to 
leave  the  room. 

"  You  are  not  my  mother!"  cried  Eleanor,  starting  up 
in  bed  with  Hushed  cheeks.  "  You  are  not  my  mother, 
and  never  were.  Mrs.  Brewster  says  so,  and  she  knows 
all  about  it." 

Mrs.  Rogers  was  terribly  distressed.  It  was  such  a 
strange  form  for  Eleanor's  delirium  to  take.  What 
could  she  mean  by  it?  She  supposed,  of  course,  that  it 
was  merely  the  ravings  of  fever;  but  it  seemed  as  if 
there  must  be  some  cause  for  the  constant  reiteration  of 
these  particular  words.  And  it  was  very  hard  that  she 
should  be  kept  from  her  daughter's  bedside. 


Eleanor  continued  very  ill,  and  every  one  in  Durham 
soon  knew  that  it  was  extremely  doubtful  if  she  would 
recover,  and  it  was  rumored  that  the  cause  of  her  illness 
was  the  announcement  that  Bertha  made  to  her  at 
Madge's  party.  Ned  Brewster  had  been  present  when 
she  did  so. 

All  this  time  Mrs.  Rogers  was  quite  unconscious  of 
what  was  being  said.  She  wandered  about  her  own 
house,  unable  to  enter  Eleanor's  room,  and  refusing,  in 
her  distress,  to  see  any  of  the  many  friends  who  called 
upon  her.  Aud  they,  knowing  the  facts  of  the  case, 
were  at  a  loss  to  know  what  to  do  to  help  matters. 

It  seemed  to  be  a  well -authenticated  story.  Who 
could  interfere? 

Finally  Dr.  Brewster  took  the  matter  in  hand.  He 
was  a  shy,  retiring  man,  who  never  talked  much,  hurry- 
ing from  one  patient  to  another,  and  attending  solely  to 
his  business.  But  his  wife's  name  was  connected  so 
closely  with  this  affair  that  he  felt  that  it  was  time  to 
speak.  If  she  had  been  at  home  he  would  have  left  it  to 
her,  for  she  and  Mrs.  Rogers  were  old  friends.  She  was 
in  Boston. 

At  first  he  had  supposed  that  Eleanor's  words  were 
merely  the  ravings  of  fever,  as  much  that  she  said  un- 
doubtedly was,  but  he  soon  discovered  how  matters  stood. 

The  next  morning,  after  his  usual  visit  to  his  patient, 
he  told  Mrs.  Rogers  that  he  wished  to  speak  with  her, 
and  they  went  into  the  library. 

"  Mrs.  Rogers,"  he  said,  "  I  want  to  ask  you  a  question. 
Is  Eleanor  your  own  child?" 

"Dr.  Brewster,  what  do  you  mean?"  exclaimed  she,  in 
amazement,  staring  at  the  doctor,  and  believing  that  lie 
too  was  out  of  his  mind. 

"Just  what  I  say.      Is  Eleanor  your  own  child?" 

"Of  course  she  is!  Whose  else  could  she  be,  Dr. 
Brewster?" 

"  Mrs.  Rogers,  you  are  probably  quite  unaware  that  the 
story  has  gone  all  over  Durham  that  Eleanor  is  your 
adopted  daughter  —  that  you  took  her  from  an  orphan 
asylum." 

Mrs.  Rogers  was  now  quite  speechless.  She  could  only 
gaze  at  Dr.  Brewster  in  silence.  Finally  she  said, 

"Is  it  possible  that  any  one  believes  this  absurd 
story?" 

"Yes;  a  great  many  people  do.  It  seems  to  be  well 
authenticated.  And  the  strange  part  of  the  thing  is  that 
my  wife  is  quoted  as  authority." 

"Your  wife!     Mary  Brewster?" 

"  Yes,  Mary  Brewster.  What  it  all  means  I  can't  pre- 
tend to  say.  As  far  as  I  can  find  out,  Mr.  Weld's  daugh- 
ter— what's  her  name?  Bessie — Bella — 

"Bertha!"  put  in  Mrs.  Rogers,  impatiently. 

"Yes;  Bertha  was  the  first  to  tell  the  story,  and  I 
understand  she  says  she  got  it  from  Mrs.  Brewster." 

"  Dr.  Brewster,  it  is  the  most  outrageous  scandal  I  ever 
heard !"  cried  Mrs.  Rogers.  "  I  shall  go  at  once  to  Bertha 
Weld  and  insist  upon  an  explanation.  And  Mary  told 
her?  When  is  Mary  coming  home?" 

"Not  for  a  week  or  so;  but  if  necessary  we  will  send 
for  her.  I  think  I  had  better  speak  plainly,  Mrs.  Rogers. 
This  story  has  been  the  chief  cause  of  Eleanor's  illness. 
She  was  a  little  run  down  before,  and  in  such  a  condition 
that  a  shock  of  this  kind  was  too  much  for  a  child  of  her 
extremely  high-strung  temperament.  Though  she  is  de- 
lirious, she  knows  what  she  is  saying  when  she  declares 
that  you  are  not  her  mother.  Unless  she  is  made  to 
understand  the  truth  I  will  not  answer  for  her  life." 

"Let  me  go  to  her!"  cried  Mrs.  Rogers,  starting  up. 
"  I  can  make  her  understand." 

But  the  doctor  barred  the  way.  "My  dear  Mrs.  Rogers, 
it  would  never  do.  You  know  the  mere  sight  of  you 
throws  her  into  such  a  paroxysm  that  it  is  almost  impos- 
sible to  quiet  her.  We  must  manage  in  some  other  vay 


.TANUAKY  8,  1895 


HAKPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


187 


First  of  all,  I  would  advise  you  to  see  the  Weld  girl,  and 
find  out  what  she  means  by  the  story  and  why  she  quotes 
my  wife.  If  necessary  we  will  telegraph  Mary  to  come 
home.  Let  me  take  you  down  there  now  in  my  buggy.'' 

Dr.  Brevvster  was  really  afraid  to  leave  Mrs.  Rogers 
lest  she  should  insist  upon  going  at  once  to  her  daughter. 
She  hurried  from  the  room,  and  in  a  moment  returned 
ready  for  the  drive. 

When  they  reached  Mr.  Weld's  house  Mrs.  Rogers  was 
informed  that  Bertha  was  at  school. 

"  I  might  have  known  it!"  she  cried,  in  despair.  "Dr. 
Brewster,  what  shall  I  do  now?" 

The  usually  self-contained  and  independent  woman 
was  quite  beside  herself  with  indignation  and  grief.  If 
Eleanor  were  to  die ! 

"Stay  right  where  you  are,  and  I  will  go  to  the  school 
and  bring  the  child  back  to  you."  And  he  drove  off  with- 
out another  word. 

Bertha  Weld,  ever  since  she  heard  of  Eleanor's  illness, 
had  been  in  a  most  unhappy  frame  of  mind.  She  was 
thoroughly  frightened  at  the  effect  of  her  words.  She 
had  not  really  intended  to  tell  Eleanor,  although  she  had 
threatened  more  than  once  to  do  so;  but  when  the  girl 
unexpectedly  came  from  behind  the  window-curtain,  hav- 
ing overheard  Bertha's  speech  to  Ned  Brewster,  it  was 
too  late,  and  Bertha  told  her  all. 

And  now  she  was  truly,  heartily  sorry.  They  said 
Eleanor  was  going  to  die.  If  she  died,  would  it  be  her,  Ber- 
tha's, fault?  After  all,  why  had  she  hated  her  so?  Elea- 
nor had  never  done  her  any  harm.  She  simply  had  been 
Madge's  friend.  And  Madge  did  not  like  Bertha  any 
better  for  all  she  had  done.  On  the  contrary,  she  re- 
fused to  have  anything  to  do  with  her,  and  Bertha  was 
more  miserable  than  ever  in  consequence. 

Poor  Bertha  had  no  one  to  whom  she  could  unburden 
herself.  She  cried  herself  ,to  sleep  every  night.  If  she 
only  had  a  mother  like  other  girls!  And  she  had  tried  to 
take  Eleanor's  mother  away  from  her.  Even  if  Eleanor 
were  adopted,  what  difference  did  it  make?  She  and  Mrs. 
Rogers  loved  each  other  like  mother  and  daughter,  why 
had  she  interfered?  Oh,  if  she  had  never  found  the  little 
red  book ! 

She  was  in  the  geography  class  at  school,  paying  little 
attention  to  the  questions,  and  giving  a  list  of  the  pro- 
ducts of  South  America  when  asked  to  name  the  princi- 
pal cities,  when  some  one  entered  the  room  and  requested 
Miss  Parker,  the  teacher,  to  excuse  Miss  Weld.  Dr. 
Brewster  wished  to  see  her. 

Bertha  started  violently,  and  a  suppressed  murmur  ran 
through  the  class.  Every  one  supposed  that  Eleanor 
was  worse,  and  that  Bertha  had  been  sent  for,  though  no 
one  could  imagine  why.  All  they  knew  was  that  Bertha 
had  caused  her  illness. 

"I  wouldn't  like  to  be  in  Bertha's  shoes  if  papa  is 
going  to  take  the  matter  in  hand!"  whispered  May  Brews- 
ter to  Madge. 

"Silence,  young  ladies!"  said  Miss  Parker,  rapping  the 
desk.  "Miss  Barnes,  will  you  bound  Brazil?" 

Bertha  never  knew  how  she  got  out  of  the  class-room 
and  down  the  stairs.  Dr.  Brewster  was  waiting  outside 
in  his  carriage. 

"  Get  your  hat  and  come  with  me,"  he  said,  brusquely. 
"Don't  stop  to  make  an  excuse  to  your  teacher.  I  will 
be  responsible  for  that." 

Bertha  tremblingly  obeyed,  and  in  silence  they  drove 
to  her  own  home.  Dr.  Brewster  stopped  his  horse  at  the 
gate,  and  telling  her  to  go  into  the  house,  drove  quickly 
away.  Bertha  walked  up  the  path  and  across  the  piazza. 
The  door  was  opened  for  her  by  Mrs.  Rogers. 

"I  wish  to  know  what  you  mean !"  cried  Mrs.  Rogers, 
seizing  the  girl's  hand  tightly  and  leading  her  into  the 
parlor.  "  What  is  this  story?" 

"What  story?"  gasped  Bertha,  faintly. 


"The  story  that  you  have  been  spreading  about  me 
and  my  child.  If  she  dies,  it  will  be  your  fault.  Do  you 
hear?  Your  fault?" 

"Mrs.  Rogers!"  said  Bertha,  growing  very  white. 
"Don't!" 

"Then  tell  me  what  you  mean.  I  must  get  to  the 
bottom  of  it  at  once.  Who  told  you  that  Eleanor,  my 
darling  Eleanor,  my  only  child,  was  not  mine?  Who 
told  you,  I  say?" 

"  I— I  read  it  in  Mrs.  Brewster's  diary, "faltered  Bertha. 

"  Mrs.  Brewster's  diary  !  What  do  you  mean?  Where 
did  you  see  it?" 

"I  picked  it  up  in  the  street  the  day  she  went  to  Bos- 
ton." 

"  And  read  it !" said  Mrs.  Rogers,  scornfully.  "So  that 
is  what  you  did  that  Eleanor  would  not  join  you  in!  I 
remember.  And  to  punish  her  for  her  sense  of  honor 
you  made  this  up  about  her.  For  shame!" 

"I  didn't  make  it  up.     It  is  there,  written  down." 

"  Get  it  for  me  at  once.  I  must  see  what  Mary  Brews- 
ter means  by  this  absolute  lie." 

Bertha  flew  from  the  room.  Her  limbs  trembled  so 
that  she  could  scarcely  get  up  stairs.  She  opened  her 
desk,  and  seizing  the  fatal  little  red  book,  turned  to  go 
down  again;  but  she  found  that  Mrs.  Rogers,  unable  to 
restrain  her  impatience,  had  followed  her  up  stairs. 

"Give  it  to  me!"  she  said,  stretching  out  her  hand. 
"  Where  is  the  place?" 

"July  20th,"  said  Bertha. 

Mrs.  Rogers  turned  to  the  date,  and  read  the  memor- 
able entry. 

"  Spent  the  morning  with  Mrs.  R.      She.  told  me  much  ' 
about  her  life.      E.    is  adopted,  but  is  never  to  know  it. 
Came  from  an  Orphan   Asylum.      Loves  her,  however, 
like  her  own  child." 

Mrs.  Rogers  tossed  the  book  to  the  floor  with  an  excla- 
mation of  contempt. 

"  And  why  should  it  mean  my  daughter  and  me?"  she 
said.  "Is  there  no  other  'Mrs.  R.1  in  the  world?" 

"And  it  isn't  really  you,  Mrs.  Rogers?"  cried  Bertha. 
"  Oh,  oh,  I  am  so  glad!  And  so  sorry  I  thought  so!  I 
knew  Mrs.  Brewster  was  your  most  intimate  friend,  and 
so- we  thought — 

"You  thought  it  was  a  fine  chance  to  make  mischief, 
and  you  proceeded  at  ouce  to  do  so.  I  tell  you  again 
that  if  my  child  dies  it  will  be  because  of  you.  All  your 
regret  will  make  no  difference  now.  It  is  too  late.  If 
she  dies  I  never  wish  to  see  your  face  again." 

And  saying  this  Mrs.  Rogers  left  the  room.  She  went 
out  of  the  house.and  found  Dr.  Brewster  waiting  for  her. 

"I  have  telegraphed  to  Mary,"  he  said,  as  he  helped 
her  into  the  carriage.  "  I  thought  you  needed  her,  apart 
from  the  advisability  of  getting  her  testimony  about  this 
absurd  story,  whatever  it  may  be.  What  did  you  find 
out  from  the  girl?" 

Mrs.  Rogers  told  him. 

"Humph!  The  great  thing  now  will  be  to  prove  to 
Eleanor  that  the  whole  thing  is  false.  It  will  be  a  diffi- 
cult matter,  but  I  am  convinced  that  it  is  the  only  thing 
to  save  her  life." 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


THE   DAY   AFTER. 

OH   dear!    it's  so  far   to  next   Christmas! 
Seeins  long  as  forever   and  more. 
I've  been   counting  the  days  over  V  over, 

Three   hundred. and   sixty-four! 
That's    a   dreadful    lot    to    lie   waiting 

To  hang   up  your  stocking,  you   see; 
But  to-nmrro\v  —  that's   something — there's  only 
Three  hunitml  mid  xixty-three !  A.  H.  D. 


TYPICAL    AMERICAN     SCHOOLS. 


GROTON     SCHOOL. 

BY    GRAFTON    DULANY    GUSHING. 

ABOUT  a  mile  and  a  half  from   the  pretty,  old   New     is  the  principal  bathing-place,  and  on  a  June  afternoon  it 
England  town  of  Groton,  on  a  ridge  sweeping  gently     is  covered  with  naked  little  figures  running  and  diving 
down  to  a  broad  valley  and   up  again,  far  away  towards     and  splashing  until  the  fatal  "all  out "  from  the  Master 
the  Temple  Hills,  you  will  find  the  buildings  and  fields  of     in  charge  puts  an  end  to  the  fun;  all  dress  leisurely,  and 
Grotou  School;  the  clean  solid  red-brick  buildings  with      wander   up   the    narrow    road,  lined    with    tender   green 

birches,  to  the  school-house  and  to  tea. 
From  the  float,  also,  the  new  arrival 
passes  his  swimming  examination, 
across  the  river  and  back,  accompanied 
by  a  boat,  and  surrounded  by  friends 
who  have  successfully  passed  the  ordeal, 
and  who  are  prodigal  of  encourage- 
ments and  friendly  advice.  As  no  boy 
is  allowed  to  go  out  in  a  boat  without 
a  Master  until  he  has  passed  his  exam- 
ination, to  succeed  becomes  a  matter  of 
some  moment  to  him. 

On   the  day  of    the  races  every  boy 
who  can   get  a  place   in   a  craft  of  any 
description  hastens  down  to    the  pictu- 
resque old  red  bridge— the  finish— while 
the  less  fortunate    wait  half-way  down 
the  course,  and  run  along  the  bank.    Lit- 
tle  boats   dart  here   and    there,  or  ride 
lazily  under  the  shadow  of  overhanging 
branches.       The  wheezy    steam-launch, 
the   PoUyicog,  whose  greatest  speed    is 
with  engines  reversed,  sails  slowly  and 
majestically  by,  and  her  shrill   whistle 
is  answered  by  the  discordant  blasts  of 
tin    trumpets.     Then   comes  a   rush    of 
figures  along  the    bank,  and   the   rival 
crews   appear  around   the   bend.      The 
race  is  over;  the  supporters  ol^lie   victorious  crew  are 
elated,  and  of  the  defeated  one  correspondingly  depressed. 
Canoe  races  follow.      There  is  then  a  swarming  of  boats 
through  the  arches  of  the  bridge,  towards  a  boat-house 


WELL    FITTED    FOR    A    WINTER'S    DAY    OF    SPORT. 


their  white  trimmings;  the  low  picturesque  Old  House; 
the  stately  New  House  with  its  big  doors  and  white  colon- 
nade;  the  squat  gymnasium;  the  tall  severe  walls  of  the 
fives  courts;  and  across  the  road  the  bright  white  and  red 
farm    buildings,  and    the    pretty     little 
stucco  chapel ;  and  here  and  there  foot- 
ball  fields,  the  first   eleven    field  under 
the  shadow  of  the  chapel;  the  diamond 
on  the  lawn  between  the  school-houses. 
Everywhere  there  are  light  and  sunshine, 
and   the   air  comes  fresh  from  over  the 
mountains,    the     long     line    of    purple 
mountains    stretching     off    indefinitely 
beyond  the  valley. 

Down  in  the  valley,  hidden  by  the 
trees,  flows  the  river  Nashua,  with  its 
turns  and  twists  and  shady  banks,  its 
little  tributary  streams  which  the  boys 
love  to  explore.  The  Nashua  is  a  con- 
stant delight;  we  bathe  in  it  in  sum- 
mer, we  skate  on  it  in  winter,  we  row  on 
it,  we  paddle  on  it.  Oh,  those  long 
summer  afternoons  with  the  hard  pull 
up  the  river,  the  coolness  of  the  plunge 
into  the  dark  waters,  the  lying  al  full 
length  in  the  green  meadow  in  the  shad- 
ow of  a  tree,  with  the  comfortable  sense 
of  having  earned  the  right  to  rest,  and 
the  floating  down  with  the  current  tow- 
ards evening! 

On  the  edge  of  the  river  is  the,  boat-house,  where  are 
kept  the  four  oared  working-boats  in  which  the  two  boat 
clubs,  the  Hemenway  and  the  Squannacook,  row  their 
annual  race,  and  the  numerous  canoes  and  Adirondack 
boats  which  cover  the  river  in  the  spring  term.  The  floa't 


IN    THE    DORMITORY. 


by,    where 
neighbors 

have  spread  white-covered  tables 
under  the  tall  pines,  and  where 
cake  and  lemonade  help  to  heal 
many  a  disappointment. 

A    characteristic    scene   is   the 

half-hour  between  supper  and  evening  work  on  a  spring 
evening.  Between  the  two  wings  at  the  back  of  the  New 
House  the  younger  boys  are  watering'or  weeding  their  gar- 
dens; for  they  have  little  plots  to  cultivate,  and  the  own- 
er of  the  best-kept  garden  receives  a  prize  at  the  end  of 


THE    NEW    SCHOOL. 


the  year.  In  front  of  the  house  boys  are  playing  scrub, 
or  passing  baseballs,  or  knocking  up  with  a  tennis-racket, 
while  shouts  of  laughter  come  from  the  broad  steps  un- 
der the  colonnade  where  the  Head  Master  is  reading1  Hap- 
py Thoughts  aloud. 

In  the  autumn  term  football  is,  of  course,  the  all-ab- 
sorbing occupation.  Groton  has  always  been  successful 
in  football,  and  plays  the  game  with  much  vigor  and 
skill.  The  team-play  and  the  body-checking  are  particu- 
larly good,  and  the  right  traditions  have  grown  up.  The 
Captain  of  the  eleven  is  a  great  man  in  the  football  sea- 
son, and  is  looked  up  to  with  much  awe  and  admiration 
by  the  younger  boys.  He  is  a  bit  of  an  autocrat,  aiid 
runs  his  team  as  he  thinks  wise,  no 
one  venturing  to  question  his  orders  on 
the  field,  not  even  the  Masters. 

The  great  match  of  the  year  is  with  St. 
Mark's.  It  is  the  school's  Harvard  and 
Yale  game,  and  is  played  in  alternate 
years  at  Groton  and  at  Southboro'. 
When  the  game  takes  place  at  South- 
boro' only  a  few  boys  —  the  second 
eleven,  the  Captains  of  other  teams,  etc. 
— are  allowed  to  go.  The  rest  of  the 
school  spend  the  day  in  a  ferment  of 
excitement.  There  is  a  miniature  Gro- 
ton-St.  Mark's  played  by  the  younger 
boys,  and  St.  Mark's  invariably  wins. 
This  is  looked  upon  as  a  sure  sign  of 
victory.  Long  before  it  is  possible  to 
receive  news,  the  telephone  is  besieged 
by  impatient  groups.  At  last  joyful 
tidings  are  received,  and  there  follow 
the  usual  excessive  demonstrations — 
shouts,  cheers,  and  ringing  of  bells,  the 
ships  on  the  back,  and  the  rough  han- 
dling of  friends — which  are  indispens- 
able to  a  proper  expression  of  manly 
joy.  Preparations  are  at  once  made 
for  a  celebration;  a  large  bonfire  is 
built,  and  a  procession  is  arranged  to 
welcome  the  victors.  Sometimes  the 
boys  dress  themselves  in  rubber  coats, 
night-gowns,  and  red  wrappers  (the 
school  colors  being  black,  white,  and 
red)  ;  sometimes  a  sulky  is  decorated 
with  appropriate  mottoes,  in  which  the 


Captain  is  dragged  gloriously  home.  Theeleven  is  met  half 
way  to  the  station  by  the  procession,  with  its  transparen- 
cies, banners,  torches,  drums,  and  fifes,  and  is  escorted 
back  with  much  solemnity  and  amid  no  little  enthusiastic 
clamor. 

The  last  event  of  the  autumn  term  is  the  Christmas 
concert  at  a  neighboring  country-house.  The  school 
orchestra,  the  glee  club,  the  mandolin  club,  and  such  in- 
dividuals as  have  talent  perform.  A  satiric  poem  by  one 
of  the  Masters  is  always  received  with  uproarious  appre- 
ciation. As  you  step  out  of  the  garland-hung  hall  into 
the  quiet  night  with  the  strains  of  the  Christmas  hymn, 
"  Oh, come  all  ye  faithful !"  still  ringing  in  your  ears,  and. 


AN   AFTERNOON    IN    JUNE    AT   TUE    BOAT-HOUSE 


190 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


as  you  drive  home  in  the  starlight  over  the  crisp  snow 
through  the  mysterious  white  country  your  heart  is 
filled  with  peace  and  good-will  towards  men. 

It  always  seems  as  though  the  winter  term  were  going 
to  be  long  and  dreary;  as  a  matter  of  fact,  it  is  so  full 
that  before  one  can  realize  it  is  fairly  under  way,  it  is 
gone.  It  is  an  intimate  time  ;  a  season  of  short  days 
when  one  gathers  around  the  blazing  open  fires;  perhaps 
the  most  homelike  time  of  the  year.  On  half-holidays 
there  is  afternoon  tea  in  the  Head  Master's  house  for  the 
sixth  form,  and  you  will  often  find  little  tea-parties  going 
on  in  the  rooms  of  the  other  masters.  If  you  want  really 
to  appreciate  a  cup  of  tea  and  a  fire,  spend  a  good  hard 
afternoon  coasting  or  skating  or  snow-shoeing.  A  New 
England  winter  may  be  cold,  but  it  is  dry  and  clear,  and 
with  a  bright  sun  cold  is  ever  endurable. 

In  Groton  every  one  is  out-of-doors  in  winter  as  well 
as  in  warmer  weather.  If  there  is  neither  skating  nor 
coasting  nor  snow -shoeing,  one  can  at  least  ramble 
through  the  woods,  or  chop  a  path,  or  take  a  good  walk. 
There  is  rarely  an  excuse  for  doing  nothing.  There  are 
various  hills  which  are  used  for  tobogganing,  and  occa- 
sionally afford  wonderful  crust  coasting.  A  chute  is  put 
up  every  winter  near  the  school-house  for  both  tobog- 
gans and  double-runners.  There  are  several  ponds  on 
which  one  can  play  hockey,  but  it  is  when  the  river  is 
frozen  that  skating  is  at  its  best;  then  one  can  fly  along 
for  miles  up  or  down  stream,  often  on  ice  as  smooth  as 
glass.  The  fives  courts  are  a  tremendous  resource  in 
stormy  weather;  the  game  is  very  exciting,  comparing 
favorably  with  racquets  or  court-tennis,  is  capital  exer- 
cise, and  requires  skill  and  agility.  A  fives  tournament, 
with  doubles  and  singles,  takes  place  ev.ery  year,  and  a 
winter  meeting  in  the  gymnasium.  A  certain  amount 
of  exercise  is  compulsory.  Every  evening-,  except  on 
half-holidays  during  the  winter  term,  at  five  o'clock,  di- 
rectly after  afternoon  school,  the  boys  have  calisthenics 
for  about  fifteen  minutes.  This  brings  them  all  into  the 
gymnasium,  and  many  remain  to  work  there. 

On  Washington's  Birthday  the  sixth  form  give  a  play. 
It  is  true  maybe  that  110  great  dramatic  talent  is  dis- 
played ;  it  may  also  be  that  it  takes  a  lively  imagination 
to  make  a  tree  or  a  plant  out  of  the  green  smears  011  the 
cotton  scenery,  but  the  audience  is  independent,  shuts  its 
eyes  to  such  small  defects,  and  enjoys  the  performance. 

In  a  school  like  Groton  so  much  is  done  for  the  boys 
that  there  is  a  danger  they  may  forget  that  they  in  their 
tarn  owe  something  to  their. generation.  And  so  a  Mis- 
sionary Society  was  started  from  which  should  originate 
plans  to  help  the  less  fortunate.  Committees  investigate 
cases  of  need  which  come  before  the  society ;  discarded 
clothes  are  collected  and  distributed  among  the  poor; 
Sunday-school  classes  are  formed  in  the  neighborhood. 
This  year  a  series  of  evening  services  in  villages  where 
there  is  no  church  met  with  great  success.  A  clergyman 
or  a  lay-preacher,  and  four  or  five  boys  who  could  sing 
or  play  on  some  instrument,  formed  each  party,  and  a 
simple  service  with  a  good  deal  of  singing  was  held  once 
a  week  for  four  weeks  in  some  hall  or  school-house. 
There  were  four  different  parties,  and  each  party  took 
a  different  district.  The  best  work  done  by  the  Mission- 
ary Society  is  perhaps  in  the  Summer  Camp  for  poor 
boys.  The  society  has  bought  an  island  on  Lake  Asquam 
in  New  Hampshire,  and  has  erected  a  simple  building 
which  will  hold  about  twenty  boys.  During  the  sum- 
mer the  Masters,  the  graduates,  and  some  of  the  older 
boys  devote  two  weeks  each  to  the  supervision  of  poor 
boys  who  are  sent  from  the  cities.  The  boys  are  divided 
into  squads  to  do  the  necessary  work,  to  make  the  beds,  to 
clean  the  boats,  to  chop  the  wood,  to  get  the  provisions. 
They  bathe,  play  baseball,  walk,  etc.,  and  improve  greatly 
in  weight  and  appearance  after  two  weeks  of  good  plain 
food  and  a  healthy  life.  Last  year  about  eighty-five 


poor  boys  came  to  the  camp.  It  is  to  my  mind  one  of 
the  striking  features  of  Groton  School  that  it  is  constantly 
growing  in  new  fields  of  usefulness,  and  that  it  is  not 
content  with  the  mere  improvement  in  school  methods 
and  school  machinery,  but  is  pressing  on  toward  the 
highest  ideal  of  education,  the  rearing  of  Christian  men 
who  are  willing  to  turn  their  hand  to  any  work  which 
their  country  and  their  generation  may  demand  of  them. 

Ten  years  ago,  when  Groton  School  was  founded,  the 
Old  House  was  the  only  school  building — if  we  except 
an  old  pink  barn  which  was  fitted  up  as  a  gymnasium, 
and  which  has  since  disappeared.  The  boys  lived,  studied, 
and  recited  in  the  same  house.  To  day  the  boys  live  in 
the  New  House,  and  do  all  their  studying  and  reciting,  ex- 
cept evening  preparation,  in  the  Old  School,  which  has 
been  slightly  modified  for  that  purpose.  The  left  end  of 
the  New  School,  as  one  faces  it,  is  given  over  to  the  rooms 
of  the  matron,  the  infirmary,  the  kitchens,  and  the  ser 
vants'  quarters.  The  corresponding  right  end  is  the  Head 
Master's  house.  The  central  part  of  the  building  con- 
tains a  large  school-room,  a  sunny  library,  and  dormi- 
tories in  the  wings  running  out  behind.  On  its  left  is 
the  dining-hall,  a  splendid  room  the  height  and  width  of 
the  house,  panelled  in  dark  wood.  On  its  right  are  the 
studies  of  the  older  boys,  and  a  dormitory  above.  The 
boys  sleep  in  large,  light  dormitories;  each  boy  lias  a  cu- 
bicle, as  it  is  called,  separated  from  the  adjoining  ones  by 
partitions  which  do  not  reach  to  the  ceiling.  A  Master's 
study  and  bedroom  open  into  each  dormitory,  and  there 
the  boys  assemble  before  going  to  bed  and  chat,  or  are 
read  to;  very  cheery  and  enjoyable  these  little  reunions 
are,  I  can  tell  you.  Each  dormitory  has  a  lavatory  be- 
longing to  it,  where  are  the  baths  and  washing  apparatus. 

The  old-fashioned  theory  that  there  is  a  natural  an- 
tagonism between  Masters  and  boys  has  never  been  able 
to  find  u  foothold  in  Groton.  The  boys  like  and  trust 
the  Masters,  and  are,  in  turn,  trusted  absolutely.  The 
comradeship  is  complete.  The  boy's  life  is  the  Master's 
life;  they  play  the  same  games;  they  do  the  same  work; 
they  are  always  together.  No  Master  ever  does  anything 
alone;  whether  it  be  work  among  the  poor  or  an  after- 
noon's amusement,  he  always  has  some  boys  with  him. 
Masters  play  on  all  the  teams.  And  so  the  boys  develop 
naturally,  as  in  their  homes,  surrounded  by  kindly  influ- 
ence. Punishments  are,  of  course,  inflicted  ;  but  the 
boys  recognize  that  it  is  in  no  unkind  spirit,  and  the 
pleasant  relations  are  rarely  even  temporarily  disturbed. 
This  sympathy  makes  the  work  in  the  class-room  easier 
and  better.  Every  Master  knows  each  boy  well,  and  does 
his  best  -to  make  his  recitations  interesting  and  instruc- 
tive to  the  whole  class.  This  relationship  is  no  mere 
coincidence.  The  policy  of  the  school  is  to  approach,  as 
much  as  it  is  possible,  to  family  life.  The  Head  Mas- 
ter's house  has  always  been  separated  from  the  rest  of 
the  house  only  by  a  door,  so  that  the  boys  may  come  and 
go  with  freedom.  The  Head  Master  and  his  wife  live  in 
the  midst  of  the  boys;  they  eat  with  them,  are  with  them 
constantly,  and  there  is  no  part  of  the  school-life  in 
which  they  do  not  share.  Three  evenings  a  week  the 
boys  are  invited  into  the  parlor  to  play  games,  and  on 
other  occasions  too  numerous  to  mention  the  Head  Mas- 
ter's house  is  made  a  meeting-place.  There  is  nothing 
that  can  be  done  to  make  a  school-boy's  life  happy  and 
homelike  that  is  not  done. 

It  is  very  difficult  to  analyze  or  to  express  in  words 
the  charm  of  a  place.  To  a  stranger,  I  suppose,  the 
cluirin  of  Groton  seems  to  lie  in  its  youth,  its  enthusiasm, 
its  air  of  happiness'.  To  the  younger  boys  it  is  enough 
that  they  are  happy  without  asking  why.  But  to  the 
older  boys,  to  the  graduates,  and  to  the  Masters,  the 
school  stands  for  all  that  is  best  and  brightest  and  hap- 
piest in  life.  They  love  the  place,  they  love  the  work, 
and  they  give  to  both  the  loyalty  of  a  lifetime. 


JANUARY  8,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


191 


A    LITTLE   BOY'S    PLAN. 

"  "IF  I  bad  made  the  calendar."  said  Bobbie,  yesterday, 
J_   "I  sort  of  think  I'd  have    it  lixed   in    somewhat  different 

way. 

I'd  not  have  put  the  Christmases  so  very  far  apart  : 
I  think  that  six  mouths 'tween 'em   would   please   any  young- 
ster's heart. 

"  And  scattered  through  the  other   months  I'd  have  a  lot  of 

times 

On  which  we'd  decorate  the  house  aud  gayly  ring  the  chimes; 
On  which  we'd  have,  uot  Santa,  hut  some  other  Saint  like  him, 
Who'd  go  about  aud  gratify  our  every  little  whim. 

"Who'd  bring  us  cakes  aud  caudy  in  the  middle  of  July; 
Who'd  bring  us  cars  and  wagons  when  the  June  sun's  in  the 

sky; 

Who  when  September  came  about  would  bring  us  lots  of  things 
To  make  us  all  as  happy  as  a  band  of  Brownie  Kings. 

"It  wouldn't  he  like  Christmas  altogether,  for,  you  know, 
July  would  find  the  country  warm  and  without  any  snow. 
The  man  for  June  could  enter  by  the  coal-hole,  just  as  we 
Expect  dear  Santa  C'laus  to  come  in  by  the  chiininee. 

"In  this  way  we'd  have  lots  of  things  a-comiug  all  the  year, 
And  waiting  for  the  Christmas -time  would  not  be  long  aud 

drear, 

And  best  of  all  we'd  not  wear  out  our  toys,  and  I  am  sure 
The  old  ones  would  be  newer  when  we  gave  'em  to  the  poor. 

GASTON  V.  DRAKE. 


A  CLEVER  RETORT. 

THAT  was  a  clever  retort  which  a  laborer  once  made  to  Lord 
Chancellor  Camden  of  England  It  appears  that  in  conse- 
quence of  the  interest  which  the  Lord  Chancellor  took  on  behalf 
of  Wilkes,  he  became  so  popular  that  the  parishioners  of  Chisel- 
hurst,  where  he  resided,  made  him  a  present  of  ten  acres  of 
common.  His  lordship,  who  was  a  very  early  riser,  was  the  first 
to  discover,  in  one  of  his  morning  walks,  that  a  poor  widow  who 
resided  on  the  common  had  all  her  geese  stolen  during  the  pre- 
vious night.  He  chanced  to  meet  a  laborer  going  to  work,  and 
thinking  from  being  wrapped  up  in  his  great-coat  that  he  was 
unknown  to  the  man,  he  enquired  of  him  respecting  the  geese, 
and  asked  him  if  he  knew  what  punishment  would  be  inflicted 
on  the  offender  who  stole  the  geese  from  the  common.  The  man 
answered,  "No." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  his  lordship,  "  he  would  be  transported  for 
seven  years." 

"  If  that  is  the  case,"  replied  the  laborer,  "  I  will  thank  your 
lordship  to  tell  me  what  punishment  the  law  would  inflict  on 
the  man  who  stole  the  common  from  the  geese." 


A  CORRECTION. 

WILBUR  was  quite  hoarse,  and  when  the  doctor  came  he  said, 
"I  guess  you've  got  a  frog  in  your  throat, eh?" 

"  Guess  not,"  said  Wilbur.  "  Tain't  big  enough  for  anything 
bigger 'u  a  pollywog." 

MERELY  A  GCTESS. 

"  How  did  you  break  your  slate,  Jack  ?"  asked  his  mamma. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Jack.  "  I  drew  a  picture  on  it  of  a  boy 
throwing  a  stone  at  a  bird,  and  I  guess  maybe  the  stone  hit  the 
slate  instead  of  the  bird." 


ONE  OF  JACK'S  PROBLEMS. 

"DON'T  see  much  sense  in  boys  studyin'  grammar,"  growled 
Jack.  "  If  a  hoy  'd  ought  to  hold  his  tongue  all  the  time,  what's 
the  good  o'  kuowiu'  how  to  talk  ?" 

NOT   A  BAD  PLAN. 

THE  children  were  playing  up  in  the  attic  when  suddenly 
Whitty  gave  a  fearful  yell. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?"  said  the  nurse,  from  below. 

"Nothin',"  replied  Whitty. 

"  Then  what  are  you  yelling  for  ?" 

"  Coz  I  had  a  half  a  dozen  of 'em  in  my  throat,  and  I  thought 
I'd  better  yell  'em  now  than  do  it  to-night  when  Papa's  asleep." 


THE   STRANGE  ADVENTURES   OF  TOMMY 
TODDLES. 

BY    ALBERT    LEE. 
CHAPTER   IV. 

AS  the  two  approached  the  Poor  House  the  Reformed  Burglar 
caught  sight  of  them,  and  turned  around  to  see  who  his 
visitors  were.     Then  he  stuck  his  head  in  through  an  open  win- 
dow and  shouted, 

"Hi  there,  below!  All  hands  ou  deck  to  repel  hoard- 
ers !" 

"Does  he  think  we  are  coming  here  to  live?"  asked  Tommy 
of  his  companion. 

"I  guess  not,"  answered  the  Sheep.    "Why?" 
"  lie  said  something  about  boarders." 

"Oh,  that's  only  an  idiom  of  the  piratic  vocabulary,"  replied 
the  Sheep,  learnedly — so  learnedly,  in  fact,  that  Tommy  was  just 
as  much  iu  the  dark  as  he  was  before  he  put  the  ques- 
tion. 

When  he  looked  up  at  the  house  again  a  wild-eyed  individual 
with  long  hair  aud  a  tierce  mustache,  holding  a  knife  in  his 
teeth  and  a  pistol  in  each  hand,  burst  out  of  the  door  and  stood 
beside  the  Burglar. 

"This  must  be  the  ex-Pirate,"  thought  Tommy,  as  he  cau- 
tiously got  behind  the  Sheep.  "  I  wonder  if  he'll  shoot?" 

But  the  ex-Pirate  was  uot  that  kind  of  a  man  at  all.  When 
he  saw  that  there  were  strangers  present  he  put  his  pistols  back 
into  his  belt,  aud  came  up  to  the  visitors  with  a  genial  smile, 
and  shook  hands  with  the  Sheep  and  then  with  Tommy. 

••Welcome  to  the  Poor  House,"  he  said.  "There  is  nothing 
here,  and  so  you  will  tiud  nobody  any  richer  than  your- 
selves." 

"  But  we  have  not  come  to  stay,"  murmured  Tommy. 
"Nothing  comes  to  stay,"  replied  the  ex-Pirate,  with  a  sigh. 
"Everything  that  comes,  goes." 

During  this  conversation  the  Reformed  Burglar,  who  had  put 
down  his  paint-pot, approached  the  group.  Tommy  noticed  that 
he  only  had  one  eye,  and  that  he  wore  a  blind  over  the  other. 
He  wanted  to  ask  him  what  was  the  matter  with  this  other  eye, 
hut  he  thought  the  Burglar  might  feel  offended  at  such  a  ques- 
tion, so  he  merely  said, 
••  How  do  you  do,  sir?" 

"  To-day  I  do  it  iu  red,"  answered  the  Reformed  Burglar, with 
a  bow. 

"  But  I  did  not  ask  you  that,"  said  Tommy. 
"  You  should  have,"  said  the  Burglar;  "it  is  important." 
••  I  don't  like  red,"  interrupted  the  ex-Pirate.    "  I  prefer  black. 
1  wanted  him  to  paint  the  house  black." 

"  But  that  would  have  looked  so  sad,"  remarked  the  little 
hoy. 

••No  matter;  black  is  the  pirate's  color,  and  I  like  it."  The 
ex-Pirate  was  getting  somewhat  excited. 

"  Black  is  a  beastly  color,"  shouted  the  Burglar. 
"It's  better  than  red,"  retorted  the  ex-Pirate,  hotly,  and  then 
there  followed  a  lively  dispute  between  the  two  inmates  of  the 
Poor-House  as  to  the  relative  merits  of  red  aud  black  for  mural 
decoration. 

"  Well.  I'm  doing  the  painting,  anyhow,"  sniffed  the  Reformed 
Burglar,  finally,  and  he  went  back  to  his  pot  aud  brushes. 

"  He's  that  way,"  said  the  ex-Pirate,  turning  to  Tommy  in  an 
apologetic  way.  "But  won't,  you  sit  down?  We  have  no 
chairs,  but  there  is  a  bench.  I  painted  the  bench.  Yon  see, 
it's  black.'' 

Tommy  felt  grateful  for  this  invitation,  for  he  was  beginning 
to  feel  a  little  bit  tired  after  his  walk.  There  was  a  rude  table 
in  front  of  the  bench,  and  they  all  sat  down  and  leaned  back 
against  it. 

"I  write  here  sometimes,"  said  the  ex-Pirate  as  he  sat  down 
between  his  two  guests. 

Tommy  didn't  know  exactly  what  kind  of  a  reply  this  state- 
ment called  for,  so  he  said,  "  Is  that  so  ?" 

"Of  course  it's  so,"  replied  the,  ex-Pirate,  facing  the  little  l>»y. 
"If  you  don't  believe  it,  ask  the  Reformed  Burglar." 

"I  do  believe  it,"  answered  Tommy,* e«hat  timidly,  for  he 

feared  he  had  offended  the  ex-Pirate.     "  What  I  meant  to  say 
was  'Indeed,'  or  something  of  that  -m  i ." 

"That's  all  right."  continued    the  ex-Pirate,   cordially, 
thought  perhaps  you  doubted  me.     Some  people  doubt  pirates, 
\ou  know,  and  although  I  am  not  a  piiate  now,  I  was  once,  and 
my  reputation  clings  to  me.     If  you  would  like  to  see  how  I  do 
it,  just  to  be  convinced,  I  will  write  some  poetry  now." 


192 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


'THIS    MUST    BE    THE    EX-P1KATE,"    THOUGHT    TOMMY. 


But  Adelaide,  as  maidens  will 

Nine  cases  out  of  ten. 
Would  sit  upon  the  front-door  step, 

And  smile  upon  the  men. 

It  happened  thus  that  One-eyed  Bill 
Came  walking  down  that  wav. 

And  seeing  pretty  Adelaide, 
He  wished  her  a  good-day. 

And  Addie  said:  "Good-morrow,  sir, 
How  is  the  world  with  you  V 

Would  you  sit  down  here  beside  me 
If  I  should  ask  you  to?" 

So  William  went  right  up  the  steps, 

And  sat  upon  her  left 
(For,  if  you  will  remember,  of 

One  eye  he  was  bereft). 

He  sat  there  all  the  afternoon 

Willi  pretty  Adelaide, 
And  when  he  went  back  home  again 

He  loved  the  gentle  maid. 

Said  he  unto  himself:   "Ha!  ha! 

True  unto  mv  profession, 
I'll  burgle  this  young  woman's  heart 

And  make  it  mv  possession." 

But  this   was  his  last  burglary  ; 

For  when  he  won   her  heart, 
She  made  him  swear  that  he  and  his 

Profession  then  would  part. 

So  One-eyed  Bill   and  Adelaide 

Were  married  very  soon, 
And  sailed  away  to  foreign   lands 

To  spend  their  honey-moon. 


"Oh  no,  don't, "said  the  Sheep,  impulsively. 

"But,  if  you  prefer,  I  will  recite  some  of  my  own  ('(imposi- 
tions,''continued  the  ex-Pirate,  heedless  of  the  Sheep's  protest. 
"I  can  recite  something  I  wrote  here.  Would  you  like  to  hear 
it?" 

"Certainly,"' said  Tommy,  politely;  "is  it  about  pirates  ?" 

"No;  it's  about  the  Reformed  Burglar.  Would  not  you  like 
to  hear  about  him?  I  can  recite  something  about  pirates  after- 
ward, if  you  would  like  me.  to." 

"Never  mind.  Let  us  hear  about  the  Reformed  Burglar," 
said  the  Sheep,  wearily. 

The  ex-Pirate  appeared  to  be  pleased  at  receiving  even  this 
slight  encouragement.  He  climbed  up  on  to  the  top  of  the 
black  table,  and  Tommy  and  the  Sheep  turned  around  so  as  to 
face  him.  He  bowed  very  politely  and  elaborately  in  all  direc- 
tions, just  as  if  there  had  been  a  large  audience  present,  aud 
then  began.  His  manner  of  speaking  was  very  melodramatic, 
aud  Tommy  suspected  once  or  twice  that  he  saw  the  Sheep  hid- 
ing a  smile.  But  the  little  boy  was  very  much  interested,  be- 
cause he  had  wanted  .-ill 
along  to  know  more  about 
the  Burglar,  and  this  piece  of 
poetry  told  him  a  good  deal. 

There  was  a  bold  bad   burglar 
Whose    name  was    One-eyed 

Bill, 
He  used    to    burgle  shops  and 

banks, 
And  also  tap  the  till. 

Now      in      the      street    where 
William  lived 

There  dwelt  a  little  maid, 
Her  face  was  very   pretty,  and 

Her  name  was  Adelaide. 

Alas,  she  was  an   orphan,  for 

Her  parents  both  were  dead. 
And  her  father's  brother  cared 
for  her 

Now  in  her  mother's  stead. 


When  the  ex-Pirate  had  finished  speaking  he  clambered  dowu 
from  the  top  of  the  table,  aud  bowed  again  to  Tommy  and  to 
the  Sheep. 

"Did  the  burglar  really  get  married  ?"  asked  the  little  boy. 

"  Certainly,"  answered  the  ex-Pirate  ;  "  he  married  Adelaide." 

"  Well,  where  is  she  now  ?     Is  not  she  poor  too  ?"' 

"I  don't  know, "said  the  ex-Pirate,  with  an  air  of  embarrass- 
ment, as  he  glanced  stealthily  toward  One-eyed  Bill,  who  was 
still  zealously  painting  the  side  of  the  Poor  House. 

"Don't  ask  so  many  questions,"  whispered  the  Sheep.  "  It  is 
very  embarrassing  sometimes.  When  in  doubt, always  change 
the  subject." 

Tommy  did  not  like  to  be  talked  to  in  this  fashion,  especially 
by  a  sheep,  although  he  knew  down  in  the  bottom  of  his  heart 
that  il  was  a  litlli-  inquisitive  to  ask  questions  about  the  private 
affairs  even  of  a  reformed  burglar.  But  it  was  evident  to  him 
that  the  ex-Pirate  felt  slightly  disturbed  over  the  matter,.and 
so  he  tried  to  change  the  subject,  as  the  Sheep  had  suggested. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUKII.l 


Her  uncle   was  a  constable 
Upon  the  town   police, 

And  he  used  to  keep  a  watch- 
ful eye 
Upon  his  pretty  niece. 


A    VERY    WISE    LITTLE    MOUSE. 


"FoT.KS    THINK    Mi:    A    <;UK\T    NINNY     IF  TIIKY 

1'SPKOT    HIK    TO    RISK     MY    NI'OK     IN    T1IKUIC.  IT    18 

ONLY       NKOFSfiAKY     TO      SIT-IN.;      Till:      THAI',  T1J ICN 
TAKE    THE    CIIKKSE    AT    LEISURE." 


UK    KT'RUNG    THE   TRAP,  AND     MA  Y  RETURN     FOR  TUB 
OUEKBIC  "AT   LEISURE." 


H 


HARPE      __ 

TOUNG  PEOPLE 


314 


].n\ 


•*? 


Copyright,  1895,  by  HARPKB  &  BROTHERS.     All  Rights  Reserved. 


PUBLISHED     WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI. — NO.  794. 


NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY,  JANUARY  15,  1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO    DOLLARS    A    TEAR. 


NEW  YORK  BOYS'  WORK  AND  PLAY. 

I!  Y      R  K  V.  \V.  S.    R  A  I  N  S  F  O  R  D,  D.  D. 


BOYS  in  a  big  city  like  New  York  are  obliged  to  live 
a  more  or  less  unnatural  life;  they  cannot  do  some 
of  the  things  boys  should  always  be  encouraged  to  do. 
Indeed,  boys  generally  do  these  things  without  encour- 
agement. No  boy's  life  is  complete  and  natural  without 
he  has  the  opportunity  to  freely  use  his  limbs  as  well  as 
his  head.  His  legs,  arms,  and  chest  need  education  just 
as  much  as  his  brain  or  his  heart,  and  when  for  several 
generations  this  education  of  exercise  and  play  has  been 
denied  the  boys  of  a  great  city,  the  sad  evidences  of  tins 
denial  are  very  easily  seen. 

The  boys  of  London,  for  instance,  are  now  sadly  behind 


the  boys  of  England,  just  because  they  have  been  denied 
such  educatioii  for  many  years.  When  the  English  offi- 
cers are  looking  for  recruits  to  join  the  army  and  go 
all  over  the  world  to  uphold  the  honor  of  the  British 
name  and  flag,  while  many  volunteers  come  forward_in 
London,  comparatively  few  are  tall  enough  or  strong 
enough  to  pass  the  very  modest  standard  which  the  laws 
of  English  enlistment  require. 

The  London  boys,  until  very  lately,  have  had  no  play- 
grounds but  the  courts,  alleys,  and  streets,  and  such  games 
as  can  be  played  in  these  narrow  places  are  too  apt  to  iuter- 

196.) 


194 


HARPER'S    YOUNG    PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


IN   A   RABBIT-TEAR 

SCARCELY  any  animal  is  so  harmless  but  that,  if  you 
put  it  in  the  wrong  place,  it  may  not  grow  danger- 
ous. It  would  be  hard  to  name  a  more  harmless-looking 
creature  than  a  rabbit,  or  one  less  likely  to  do  a  great 
deal  of  mischief  to  anybody,  yet  on  the  Australian  con- 
tinent rabbits  are  a  thousand  times  more  feared  by  the 
settlers  who  live  there  tlian  all  the  dozens  of  kinds  of 
poisonous  snakes  that  abound  in  the  country. 

Australia  is  a  warm  country,  and  for  the  most  part  it 
is  covered  with  grass.  Snow  never  falls  there,  and  there 
are  no  severe  frosts  to  prevent  the  grass  growing,  so  that, 
except  in  a  bad  drought,  the  grass  grows  there  all  the 
year  round.  About  twenty  years  ago  some  one  set  free 
some  wild  rabbits  in  the  great  grassy  plains  where  the 
settlers  fed  their  vast  flocks  of  sheep  and  cattle.  Rabbits 
breed  very  fast  everywhere,  but  nobody  ever  heard  of 
their  increasing  as  they  did  in  Australia.  In  a  very  few 
years  they  had  spread  over  the  country  by  millions,  and 
had  driven  the  cattle  and  sheep  out  of  whole  districts 
where  they  left  them  nothing  to  eat.  The  settlers  tried 
many  ways  to  get  rid  of  th^m,  but  it  looked  as  if  they 
had  come  to  stay,  and  all  the  settlers  could  do  seemed  to 
make  no  impression.  At  last,  after  all  sorts  of  schemes 
had  failed  to  kill  the  rabbits,  the  settlers  made  up  their 
minds  to  fence  them  out  and  fight  them  from  behind  the 
fences. 

It  was  a  terrible  undertaking,  for  it  meant  putting  up 
many  Inmdreds  of  miles  of  fences  made  so  close  that  rab- 
bits could  not  get  in.  At  last  they  did  it,  however,  and 
now  they  are  fighting  the  rabbits  from  behind  these 
fences.  It  is  not  an  easy  fight  even  now.  If  the  fences 
were  not  watched  constantly  the  rabbits  would  get 
through  in  spite  of  all  the  settlers  could  do.  They  swarm 
up  to  the  barrier  in  thousands,  and  to  prevent  them  from 
making  burrows  so  close  to  the  fence  that  some  would  be 
sure  to  get  under  it,  if  only  by  accident,  they  catch  and 
kill  as  many  as  possible  by  means  of  traps.  These  traps 
are  so  unlike  any  that  my  readers  are  likely  to  have  seen, 
and  generally  contain  so  many  curious  animals  besides 
rabbits,  that  I  think  a  short  description  of  one,  with  a 
glance  at  its  contents,  may  be  of  some  interest  to  boys 
even  at  this  distance  from  the  great  rabbit  campaign. 

Let  me  first  describe  an  Australian  trap.  It  is  made  in 
this  way:  First  of  all  a  hole  is  made  in  the  wire  fencing 
about  eighteen  inches  in  height;  then  just  inside  the 
fence  a  pit  is  dug  about  eight  feet  long,  five  feet  wide, 
and  six  feet  deep.  The  hole  in  the  fence  opens  about  the 
middle  of  the  pit,  and  the  ground  is  sloped  with  a  spade 
leading  through  the  hole  to  the  edge  of  the  pit.  A  wooden 
cover  is  built  over  the  pit,  sloping  up  to  the  fence  so  as  to 
include  the  whole  height  of  the  gap  left  in  the  wire  fen- 
cing. A  trap-door  with  a  hinge  is  made  at  one  end  of 
the  pit  cover,  about  eighteen  inches  or  two  feet  square,  to 
let  a  man  get  into  the  pit;  then  it  is  ready  for  business. 

Simple  as  this  trap  is  it  could  hardly  be  more  efficient. 
The  rabbits  as  they  prowl  along  the  fence  run  down  the 
inclined  path  only  to  find  themselves  on  a  board  which 
tips  up  instantly,  shooting  them  into  the  pit  below.  Once 
in,  there  is  no  way  out  again,  and  they  have  to  wait  the 
arrival  of  the  executioner,  as  he  makes  his  daily  round 
each  morning,  unless  some  other  animal  comes  to  fore- 
stall him,  which  is  not  at  all  unlikely  to  happen.  There 
are  other  animals  besides  rabbits  sure  to  find  their  way 
into  a  trap  of  this  sort.  Some  of  them  seem  to  go  from 
mere  curiosity,  but  most  go  there  on  business.  They 
know  that  the  rabbits  are  sure  to  be  there,  and  they  have 
important  business  with  the  rabbits. 

When  the  boundary-rider  opens  the  trap-door  in  the 
morning  he  lets  in  the  light  on  a  curious  scene.  At  first 
sight  it  is  no  easy  matter  to  guess  what  the  jumping,  run- 
ning, struggling  heap  of  life  can  be  that  rolls  and  tumbles 


about  at  the  bottom  of  the  pit.  Then  you  begin  to  see 
that  it  consists  of  a  great  variety  of  creatures,  some  of 
which  are  terribly  frightened  of  the  others,  and  some  of 
which  are  only  very  much  astonished  to  find  themselves 
in  such  a  place  and  such  company.  The  first  you  will 
make  out  quite  clearly  will  very  likely  be  one  or  two 
wallabies — a  curious-looking  little  kangaroo  from  two 
and  a  half  to  three  feet  tall ;  they  have  evidently  strolled 
into  the  trap  by  mistake.  There  they  sit  up  on  end  blink- 
ing in  the  sudden  flood  of  sunshine  just  let  in  upon  them, 
with  a  funny,  puzzled  look  on  their  faces,  until  suddenly 
some  other  creature  or  perhaps  half  a  dozen  at  once  jump 
on  to  their  long  tails  that  trail  behind  them  on  the  ground, 
and  then  they  make  a  little  nervous  hop,  and  light  per- 
haps on  two  or  three  rabbits,  who  struggle  wildly  to 
escape.  The  terror  of  the  rabbits  is  indeed  the  main 
feature  of  the  scene,  and  a  second  look  will  explain  it. 
Their  natural  enemies  are  there,  and  have  evidently  come 
on  business.  There  are  perhaps  three  or  four  wild-cats, 
already  so  overgorged  with  food  that  they  are  harmless 
enough  if  the  rabbits  only  knew  it,  but  evidently  feeling 
indignant  that  they  can  eat  no  more  rabbits,  and  can  only 
sit  glaring  in  helpless  disgust  that  so  much  excellent  food 
should  be  wasted. 

Then,  of  course,  there  are  snakes,  perhaps  only  two  or 
three,  or  in  some  places  a  dozen.  They  are  of  all  sizes, 
but  the  kinds  most  likely  to  get  into  a  trap  are  the  larger 
sorts  that  eat  rabbits.  They  are  of  all  colors  —  black, 
brown,  gray,  some  beautifully  spotted,  others  striped  with 
various  colors,  and  generally  from  four  to  eight  feet  in 
length.  These  glide  about  through  the  throng  of  moving 
bodies,  their  bright  eyes  glittering,  and  their  heads  mov- 
ing with  a  graceful,  wary  motion  backwards  and  for- 
wards as  they  go.  Occasionally,  as  some  creature  jolts 
up  against  them,  they  draw  their  heads  up  and  give  an 
angry  hiss;  but  they  have  evidently  had  breakfast  and 
don't  care  for  more. 

There  are  sure  to  be  lizards  too.  Most  of  these  have 
no  business  there,  but  a  lizard  is  an  unreasonable  sort  of 
creature  that  never  seems  to  know  his  own  mind,  and 
these  have,  no  doubt,  come  into  the  trap  through  sheer 
curiosity,  all  of  them,  that  is,  but  one  kind.  In  a  corner, 
probably  engaged  in  swallowing  a  last  little  rabbit,  is  an 
"iguana" — the  boundary -rider  calls  him  a  "goanner"- 
who,  alone  of  all  the  party,  seems  wholly  undisturbed, 
perhaps  because  every  thing  else  gives  him  as  wide  a  berth 
as  possible.  He  is,  it  must  be  confessed,  ugly  enough  to 
account  for  it.  He  is  a  large  and  very  clumsy  lizard, 
from  three  and  a  half  to  even  five  feet  long,  and,  as  he 
stands  there  in  the  corner,  he  suggests  very  unpleasantly 
a  small  crocodile. 

There  are  other  creatures  too  in  the  trap,  generally  a 
good  many,  if  one  had  time  to  pick  them  out.  There  may 
be  a  native  bear — a  clumsy,  stupid,  simple-looking  beast, 
about  the  size  of  a  good  big  dog,  with  very  thick  grayish 
fur,  from  amongst  which  his  eyes  look  out  with  a  puzzled 
sheepish  air  which  is  almost  irresistibly  funny.  Then 
there  are  bandicoots,  queer  furry  creatures  about  the  size 
of  large  rabbits,  as  well  as  a  collection  of  native  rats  and 
moles  of  different  kinds.  All  are  alike  in  having  pret- 
ty furs,  and  all  bear  in  their  structure  the  sign-manual 
of  the  original  Australian  animal,  the  marsupial  pouch. 

AVe  have  stood  in  imagination  at  the  trap-door  of  our 
rabbit-pit  longer  than  would  have  suited  the  boundary- 
rider,  who  was  supposed  to  be  at  our  side.  Your  boun- 
dary-rider is  a  busy  man,  and  has  a  dozen  more  traps  to 
visit  when  he  has  cleared  this  one.  He  has,  therefore,  no 
time  to  waste,  but,  after  a  single  glance  into  the  pit  to  see 
what  he  has  to  deal  with,  he  proceeds  to  business.  He 
first  rolls  the  long  heavy  thong  of  his  stock-whip  round 
his  arm,  and  grasps  the  eighteen-inch  long  handle  by  the 
thin  end,  then,  without  a  moment's  hesitation,  he  drops 
through  the  trap-door  into  the  pit. 


JANUAKY  15,  1895. 


HARPEPw'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


195 


The  new  arrival  is  the  signal  for  a  confusion  even 
wilder  than  before.  The  rabbits  and  small  furry  crea- 
tures scamper  off  in  every  direction.  The  simple-faced 
wallaby  makes  a  clumsy  hop  to  get  out  of  the  way,  while 
the  stupid-looking  native  bear  shuffles  clumsily  to  one 
side.  The  wild -cats  arch  their  backs,  swell  out  their 
tails,  and  grin  and  spit  horribly.  The  snakes  uprear 
their  crests,  and  hiss  threateningly  at  the  intruder.  Even 
the  iguana  backs  a  step  and  opens  his  jaws,  showing  two 
formidable  rows  of  teeth  in  an  ugly  snarl. 

The  boundary-rider,  however,  is  accustomed  to  this  sort 
of  welcome,  and  has  no  time  to  fool  around  with  either 
snakes  or  lizards.  As  quick  as  thought  he  strikes  right 
and  left,  breaking  the  vertebra?  of  a  snake  at  each  blow 
of  the  heavily  loaded  whip-handle,  and  laying  them  writh- 
ing on  the  ground,  where  he  probably  crushes  their  heads 
with  the  same  weapon,  in  case  they  should  happen  to  be 
poisonous.  The  wild-cats  are  free  to  go  if  they  choose. 
They  kill  rabbits,  and  are  therefore  so  far  privileged;  but 
they  are  blessed  with  a  temper  so  bad  that  it  is  a  chance 
whether,  after  all,  they  don't  feel  the  sharp  deadly  hJovv 
with  which  the  stock-whip  dismisses  the  more  innocent 
furry  denizens  of  the  trap.  In  their  case  he  is  no  respect- 
er of  persons.  To  possess  fur  is  in  the  eyes  of  the  bouii- 
<lary-rider  to  have  the  mark  of  the  beast,  and  therefore  to 
be  a  proper  subject  for  a  sudden  death.  Rabbits,  bandi- 
coots, native  rats,  moles,  native  bears,  and  wallabies  are 
all  involved  in  a  common  and  speedy  slaughter.  Even 
the  lizards,  being  in  the  way,  get  killed,  with  the  one  hon- 
orable exception  of  the  iguana.  The  boundary-rider  him- 
self is  not  a  greater  enemy  of  the  rabbit  than  the  igu'ana 
is,  and  therefore  the  -iguana  is  privileged.  He  is  rather  a 
fierce  animal  when  meddled  with,  for  he  gives  a  very 
ugly  bite,  so  a  plank  is  usually  provided  for  him,  by  means 
of  which  he  marches  out  of  the  pit  triumphantly,  with 
the  honors  of  war.  Then  the  bodies  of  the  numerous 
dead  are  thrown  out  of  the  trap,  those  that  have  furs  or 
skins  worth  selling  in  the  Sydney  market  to  be  secured, 
and  the  others,  amongst  which  are,  of  course,  the  rabbits, 
to  be  covered  up  in  a  trench  as  quickly  as  possible  so  as 
to  set  the  executioner  free  to  attend  to  the  other  traps  on 
his  daily  beat.  H.  H.  LUSK. 


THE  DOGWOOD-TREE. 
"I  CAN  always  tell  a  dogwood-tree 
When  I  walk  in  Central  Park," 
Said  Jack,  "for  cau't  you  plainly  see 
You  cau  tell  it  by  its  bark?" 


LITERARY   SALAD. 

Tj^LEANOR  CHASE  belonged  to  a  literary  society,  and 
J_J  at  the  end  of  the'year  when  the  meetings  were  over 
all  the  girls  wanted  to  give  some  kind  of  an  entertain- 
ment. Helen  Jackson  suggested  a  dance,  "So  we  could 
invite  the  boys,  you  know,"  but  Eleanor,  who  had  been 
brought  up  in  a  literary  atmosphere,  thought  a  dance 
was  too  frivolous  for  a  literary  society. 

Progressive  euchre  was  proposed,  or  a  theatre  party, 
but  none  seemed  quite  consistent  with  the  literary  ideal 
of  the  girls,  so  Mrs.  Chase  was  called  in,  and  the  girls 
poured  out  to  her  their  tribulations,  and  begged  for  some 
ideas. 

After  much  discussion  Mrs.  Chase  said:  "Girls,  why 
not  have  a  luncheon?  And  if  you  want  it  to  be  'a  feast 
of  reason  and  a  flow  of  soul,'  I  will  help  you  arrange  a 
dish  of  literary  salad." 

The  girls  agreed  that  this  really  seemed  the  best  thing 
to  do,  and  it  would  at  least  have  the  merit  of  being  some- 
thing different  from  a  luncheon  with  just  "plain  talk," 
as  Grace  Porter  said.  "  And  you  know,"  she  added.  "  it 
is  so  frightfully  hard  to  be  entertaining1  from  one  o'clock 


until  four.  I  nearly  die  trying  to  think  of  something  to 
say,  and  the  more  I  think  the  fewer  ideas  I  have." 

The  rest  of  the  girls  had  all  had  similar  experiences 
when  they  were  hostesses,  and  any  plan  for  helping  along 
the  conversation  was  gladly  welcomed. 

The  day  was  fixed  for  the  luncheon,  and  ten  invita- 
tions were  sent  out,  as  each  member  of  the  society  was 
allowed  to  invite  a  friend. 

The  girls  had  great  pleasure  preparing  for  the  lunch- 
eon, and  every  thing  looked  so  pretty  when  all  was  ready, 
that  Eleanor  declared  "anybody  ought  to  be  glad  to 
come  to  see  such  beauty,  even  if  they  did  not  hear  a  word 
spoken  or  have  a  thing  to  eat." 

The  society  colors  were  pink  and  green,  so  the  table 
was  decorated  with  pink  roses  and  smilax,  and  when  the 
guests  saw  the  table  they  were  enthusiastic  enough  to  de- 
light even  Eleanor. 

Mary  Webster,  the  artist  of  the  society,  had  drawn  a 
little  sketch  for  each  girl's  luncheon  card,  and  it  was 
characteristic  of  the  girl  in  some  way.  A  rhyme  or  some 
quotation  accompanied  each  sketch,  and  these  cards 
proved  very  entertaining. 

After  several  courses  had  been  served,  and  when  the 
guests  would  naturally  expect  a  salad  course,  there  was 
served  a  dish  of  lettuce  leaves  made  of  tissue-paper. 
Before  this  was  passed,  each  girl  was  given  a  card  on 
which  were  twenty  numbers,  and  to  these  cards  were  at- 
tached pale  green  pencils  by  means  of  pink  ribbons. 
The  lettuce  leaves  consisted  of  three  different  shades  of 
green  tissue-paper,  the  edges  being  crinkled  and  cut  in 
the  shape  of  a  real  leaf.  A  piece  of  white  paper  a  little 
smaller  than  the  green  one  was  pasted  down  the  middle 
of  the  leaf,  and  on  this  was  written  a  quotation  more  or 
less  familiar.  When  every  girl  had  her  leaf  of  lettuce, 
Mrs.  Chase  asked  Jane  Paul,  the  girl  who  sat  at  her  right, 
to  read  her  quotation. 

After  Jane  had  read  hers  all  the  girls  tried  to  guess 
the  name  of  the  author,  and  without  telling  any  one 
they  wrote  down  on  their  cards  opposite  number  one  the 
author  they  thought  had  written  the  verse.  Each  girl 
in  turn  read  her  quotation,  and  the  name  of  the  author 
was  written  opposite  the  number  of  the  quotation.  When 
all  had  been  read  the  girl  with  number  one  read  her 
quotation  again,  and  also  read  the  name  of  the  supposed 
author.  In  this  way  the  quotations  were  all  read  again, 
and  when  finished  the  number  of  correct  authors  was 
counted,  and  the  girl  who  had  written  correctly  the 
largest  number  received  the  prize. 

A  great  many  quotations  can  be  taken  from  Shake- 
speare. If  there  should  be  great  difficulty  in  guessing 
the  author  the  hostess  can  give  a  little  help.  One  quota- 
tion at  this  luncheon  was, 

"I,  that  denied  thee  gold,  will  give  iiiy  heart." 

No  one  was  familiar  with  the  quotation,  so  Mrs.  Chase 
said,  "I  will  tell  you  the  next  line,  and  then  see  if  you 
can  tell  the  author."  So  she  said, 

"Strike,  as  thou  didst  at  Caesar." 

Immediately  all  said,  "Oh  yes,  I  know," and  all  put 
down  Shakespeare. 

When  one  of  the  girls  read  this  quotation, 

"  But  the  noblest  thing  that  perished  there 
Was  that  young  faithful  heart," 

Helen  Jackson  said, "  Everybody  knows  Casablanca  wrote 
that,"  and  only  one  of  the  party  knew  the  author  was 
Mrs.  Hemans. 

After  this  came  the  real  and  palatable  salad,  but  I 
assure  you  it  was  not  enjoyed  as  much  as  the  literary 
dish.  Ice-cream,  fruit,  and  coffee  followed,  and  when 
the  girls  went  away  they  declared  it  was  the  nicest  lunch- 
eon to  which  they  had  beeai,  adding,  "It  was  so  literary." 

MAY  STOCKTON  SHREVE. 


196 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


THE  KINDERGARTEN  ROOM. 

(Continued  from  front  pupe.} 

fere,  as  we  all  know,  with  the  comfort  of  the  inhabitants, 
and  so  are  forbidden  by  the  police.  London  is  a  very 
old  city;  New  York  a  very  young  city.  Tilings,  there- 
fore, that  may  be  excused  in  the  one  are  inexcusable  in 
the  other. 

In  these  latter  days  all  sensible  people  give  far  more 
thought  to  the  growing-time  of  boys  and  girls  than  our 
forefathers  did,  for  they  are  beginning  to  understand  that 
the  old  saying  "a  stitch  in  time  saves  nine  "  is 
far  truer  of  a  life  than  of  a  coat,  and   they  are 
disposed  to  agree  with  the  saying  of  one  of  the 
wisest  of  men,  Plato — that  the  man  who  teaches 
people    to  bring    up  their   children    is  really  a 
greater  and  rarer  man  than  he  who  teaches  his 
countrymen  to  successfully  wage  war;  for  the 
former  is  great  in  making  men,  the  latter  in  kill- 
ing them. 

This  great  New  York,  of  which  we  are  all  so 
proud,  and  in  whose  future  we  believe,  is  like  a 
rash  young  fellow,  so  full  of  life  and  courage 
that  he  does  very  foolish  things  sometimes — 
tilings  that  cost  him  a  great  deal  to  undo.  One 
of  these  things  which  we  have  done  carelessly 
and  which  has  cost  us  dearly  already,  and  is  like- 
ly to  cost  us  a  great  deal  more  before  we  undo 
it,  is  the  tenement  -  house  system  of  living.  The  houses 
are  so  crowded  together  that  no  room  has  been  left  for  exer- 
cise or  play,  and  the  chief  sufferers  are  the  young  people. 


I  have  been  asked  to  tell  of  some  lit- 
tle aid  which  we  in  St.  George's  Church 
are  trying  to  give  by  way  of  helping  our 
neighbors,  what  success  has  attended  us, 
and  where  we  fail.  I  might  sum  up,  I 
think,  truly,  our  efforts  in  one  word,  a 
very  comprehensive  one  when  rightly 
understood,  and  say  we  aim  to  provide  a 
little  "recreation"  for  those  so  sorely  in 
need  of  it,  and  as  you  will  see  later  on, 
by  recreation  I  mean  far  more  than  mere 
amusement.  I  mean  the  re-creating, 
making  over  again,  that  part  of  a  boy's 
life  which  is  so  apt  to  die  within  him, 
or  become  diseased,  because  he  never  is 
allowed  to  use  it.  I  would  say  at  once 
that  I  do  not  think  any  church  or  society 
can  at  present  do  more  than  point  the 
way  to  better  things,  so  that  good  results 
can  be  won,  even  where  there  are  very 
small  means  to  win  them  ;  and  if  in  this 
manner  attention  is  but  called  to  some 
of  these  things  that  should  be  changed 
in  our  city  life,  that  should  be  provided  for  our  young  peo- 
ple, public  spirit  will  insist  on  these  changes  being  made. 


LEARNING  TO  BE  TELEGRAPH  OPERATORS. 


1 


THE    CARPENTER    SHOP. 

I  believe  that  the  greatest  need  of  our  New  York  boy, 
as  I  said  before,  is  opportunity  for  recreation.  He  has  all 
the  schooling  and  head -training  he  requires,  though  I 
fear  even  this  is  often  a  very  old-fashioned  sort,  and  tires 
him  more  than  he  needs  to  be  tired,  and  interests  him  less 
than  he  ought  to  be  interested;  but  I  am  very  sure,  for 
all  his  scholarship,  he  often  has  not  much  real  education. 
But  you  say,  "Can  a  boy  have  plenty  of  schooling  and 
yet  not  be  educated  ?"  Indeed  he  can,  for  education 
means  far  more  than  knowing  things.  Education  means 
bringing  out  all  that  is  best  and  manliest  in  him.  A  mail 
is  not  only  a  being  who  thinks  and  knows  things.  These 
tilings  he  may  do  and  yet  be  a  veritable  demon,  a  curse 
to  himself  and  a  terror  to  those  who  are  forced  to  come 
into  contact  with  him.  He  must  know  how  to  make 
good  use  of  his  knowledge,  not  evil  use,  and  more  than 
that  he  must  wish  to  make  good  use  of  himself.  One 
thing  still  further,  before  he  is  a  truly  educated  man  he 
must  know  how  to  make  good  use  of  the  ivhole  of  him- 
self. 

There  was,  I  believe,  an  old  custom  among  soldiers 
long  ago,  in  times  of  chivalry,  when  they  made  a  vow 
or  went  to  war,  they  would  sometimes  put  a  sharp  stone 
in  their  shoe,  or  even  blind  one  eye  with  a  patch  over  it, 


THE    ST.  GEORGE'S    DRILL 


until  they  had  made  some  pilgrimage,  or  had  done  some- 
thing they  had  vowed  to  do.  This  may  have  shown 
their  courage  and  determination — good  tilings  in  them- 
selves— but  certainly  it  did  not  show  their  sense;  for  a 
long  pilgrimage  they  needed  the  fullest  use  of  their  feet, 
and  on  the  battle-field  surely  no  one  can  find  two  eyes 
one  too  many. 

Now  so  it  is  in  life;  we  need  not  only  men  and  wo- 
men, nor  even  good  men  and  good  women,  but  educated 
men  and  women — people  whose  whole  being  is  at  its  best, 
and  used  for  all  it  is  worth — clear  heads,  clever  hands, 
healthy,  pure,  clean  bodies.  Then  indeed  will  the  coun- 
try and  the  whole  world  be  the  better  for  the  living  of 
such  educated  people. 

But  some  of  my  readers  will  say,  "This  is  only  theory." 
No,  it  is  proved  fact.  At  one  of  our  State  penitentiaries, 
during  a  period  of  ten  years,  the  average  number  of  men 
received  each  year  was  504;  out  of  that  number  the  year- 
ly average  who  had  attended  school  was  437,  while  of 
all  these  437  the  average  number  who  had  trades  of  dif- 
ferent kinds  was  only  52.  The  lesson  such  figures  as 
these  teach  is  very  plain  indeed.  The  boy  who  went  to 
school  learned,  no  doubt,  something  there,  but  his  fellow 
pupil  who  took  up  a  trade  learned  something  more — he 
learned  what  the  first  knew  and  he  then  tried  to  make 
some  real  use  of  it.  His  fingers  and  arms  were  called  to 
the  use  of  nis  head.  His  trade  was  in  itself  an  education 
to  him.  He  had,  no  doubt,  the  same  temptation  to  idle- 
ness and  sin  as  the  other,  but  he  had  what  his  fellow  did 
not  have — something  interesting  to  do,  something  that 
he  could  not  do  without  putting  a  good  deal  of  himself 
into  the  doing  of  it;  and  so  when  his  poor  school-fellow 
fell  into  evil  ways  he  kept  straight,  and  his  trade  educa- 
tion helped  him  to  keep  straight. 

Now  we  have  tried  to  establish  at  St.  George's,  gym- 
nasium, athletic  fields,  drill  corps,  boys' clubs,  and  things 
of  that  sort,  but  I  have  only  space  to  speak  of  one  of  our 
efforts  particularly,  which  has  for  its  aim  this  widening 
of  a  boy's  education.  One  of  the  troubles  of  our  New 
York  life  is,  that  it  is  not  easy  for  boys  to  learn  trades. 
There  is  a  great  demand  for  office  boys,  messenger  boys, 
boys  in  stores,  etc.  In  these  positions  they  can  earn 
from  two  to  four  or  six  dollars  per  week,  but  I  am 
sure  that  this  is  the  poorest  work  possible  for  boys. 
When  they  are  beginning  to  think  of  earning  their  own 
bread  it  seems  a  fine  thing  to  gain  such  a  sum,  and  a 
parent  often  foolishly  encourages  them  to  do  so.  School 
is  dropped  as  soon  as  possible,  and  three  or  four  dollars 
are  quickly  added  to  the  earnings  of  the  family;  but  the 
young  earner  is  really  not  earning  much;  he  has  left 


school  too  soon;  he  has  no  trade,  no  prospect  of  gaining 
a  thorough  knowledge  of  any  one  line  of  business.  His 
cheap  work  is  in  all  likelihood  used  to  oust  some  older 
person  who  once  began  on  the  ladder  of  life  just  where 
he  is  now  beginning.  The  boy  who  ousts  the  man  will 
in  a  few  years,  when  he  asks  for  higher  wages,  be  re- 
placed by  another  much  younger  than  he,  and  where  is 
he  then?  His  best  youth  past,  no  sure  position  won,  he 
is  only  another  hopeless  recruit  going  to  swell  the  great 
sad  army  of  unskilled. unorganized  labor.  But  it  is  hard 
for  boys  to  learn  trades  in  New  York,  not  only  on  ac- 
count of  strong  temptations  that  beset  them  to  accept 
positions  that  will  not  afford  them  fair  opportunities  to 
rise  in  the  world,  but  also  for  another  reason.  At  present 
the  Trades  Unions  limit  very  strictly  the  number  of  ap- 
prentices who  can  enter  in  any  trade.  They  do  this  be- 
cause they  are  afraid  that  there  may  be  too  many  carpen- 
ters or  bricklayers  or  plumbers,  too  many  for  the  work 
that  there  is  in  this  country  for  them  to  do;  and  thus  it 
comes  about  that  many  a  lad  wants  to  learn  a  trade,  and 
his  parents  are  willing  to  work  all  the  harder  that  he  may 
learn  it,  but  he  cannot  get  a  place. 

To    meet   such  cases  we   started   the  Boys'  Industrial 
Trade  School.     We  leased  the  house  at  520  East  Eleventh 


SETTING    TIP    TYPE    IN    THE    COMPOSING-KOOM. 


198 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI- 


Street,  and  made  such  alterations  as  were  absolutely 
necessary.  On  the  ground-floor,  in  the  main  room,  we 
placed  a  carpenter's  shop,  and  in  the  room  back  of  that  a 
drawing-class.  The  next  floor  was  fitted  up  for  a  school 
in  telegraphy,  with  ten  instruments,  and  the  third  floor 
was  given  up  to  a  kindergarten  school  for  boys  from  ten 
and  over  in  manual  training.  There  are  twenty  benrhrs 
in  the  carpenter's  shop,  each  supplied  with  a  complete 
set  of  tools,  which  the  boys  are  taught  to  use  with  care. 
The  work  they  are  called  upon  to  do  is  first  prepared  in 
the  drawing-classes. 

The  attendance  at  the  telegrapher's  class  has  not  been 
as  good  as  at  others.  The  reason  for  this  is  that  the  te- 
legrapher's trade  is  not  as  good  now  as  it  was,  and  the 
wages  are  lower  than  many  other  trades.  There  are  also 
classes  in  stenography  and  printing.  In  the  composing- 
rooms  there  are  three  classes,  with  room  for  twelve  boys 
in  each  class.  The  boys  are  taught  to  set  up  and  dis- 
tribute type,  but,  unfortunately,  we  have  not  yet  been  able 
to  afford  the  expense  of  a  press,  and  so  it  has  been  hard 
work  to  hold  the  boys'  interest,  as  they  could  do  no  actual 
printing. 

The  chief  difficulty  we  have  to  overcome  in  order  to 
make  our  work  a  success  is,  of  course,  the  irregularity 
among  the  boys  who  attend.  To  any  one  who  knows 
the  city  this  is  not  discouraging.  Public-school  hours 
are  sufficiently  long;  little  or  no  attention  is  paid  to  any 
but  head-work;  consequently  when  the  children  come 
away  they  are  both  crammed  and  tired.  Almost  all  of 
what  we  are  trying  to  teach  could  and  should  be  taught 
in  the  public  schools,  but  as  it  is  now,  since  part  of  "the 
young  thing  "  is  too  much  taught,  and  the  largest  part  not 
taught  at  all,  of  course  he  wants  to  "let  up  "as  soon  as 
school  is  over,  and  to  be  sent  off  again  at  night  seems 
very  hard  treatinent  indeed.  At  least  it  is  hard  until  his 
interest  is  thoroughly  roused,  and  then  he  comes  in  with- 
out driving  or  dragging. 

We  think,  on  the  whole,  that  our  very  modest  effort  to 
increase  the  interest  and  widen  the  education  of  some  of 
our  young  neighbors  is  succeeding.  Attendance  last 
winter  averaged  eighty -five  per  cent,  of  those  on  the 
books,  but  this  gratifying  showing  is  due  to  the  system  of 
class  associates  which  we  have  employed.  A  number  of 
gentlemen  come  down  regularly  one  or  more  evenings  in 
the  week ;  each  of  them  has  his  own  boys  to  look  after. 
In  case  any  one  is  absent  the  class  associate  goes  there 
and  then  to  look  him  up,  and  so  not  only  reaches  the  lad 
but  impresses  upon  the  parent  the  importance  of  the 
work. 

Our  aim  in  the  school  is  to  discover  in  what  direction 
the  boy's  ability  may  lie;  to  do  something  then,  however 
little,  to  develop,  and  so  to  foster  in  him  the  desire  to  learn 
a  trade. 

Every  public  school  should  have  some  sort  of  a  play- 
ground, even  if  it  be  small,  and  though  it  costs  the  city 
money,  it  would  be  money  well  spent.  It  is  a  sin  against 
life  itself  to  keep  young  people  housed  up  in  ill-ventila- 
ted rooms  for  the  best  of  a  day,  forbidding  them  all  ex- 
ercise of  the  body  but  such  as  can  be  had  in  a  dark  base- 
ment. In  such  a  place  I  have  seen  the  boys  standing 
toe  to  a  chalk  mark  in  four  long  rows,  their  hands  at 
their  sides,  and  this  during  the  ten  minutes  called  "rec- 
reation." 

The  life  of  a  great  city  must  always  be  an  intense  life; 
it  tends  to  make  us  either  very  good  or  very  bad;  oppor- 
tunities for  evil  must  abound.  We  can  only  arm  the 
boys  against  them,  as  we  supply  them  with  opportunities 
in  the  best  sense  to  educate  themselves.  Make  the  boy 
sound  and  strong  in  every  part  of  him,  and  he  resists 
almost  without  knowing  it  the  evil  influences  that,  if 
once  they  enter,  give  so  much  pain. 

There  is  a  beautiful  old  story  you  may  have  heard  be- 
fore, of  how  a  very  wise  man  saved  himself  and  his  crew 


from  shipwreck.  He  and  his  sailors  had  been  on  a  long 
voyage,  had  passed  through  many  and  unknown  seas. 
They  were  tired  of  rowing  the  heavy  ship  along;  they 
were  longing  for  rest  and  for  land,  when  one  day  they 
came  across  a  lovely  island.  Clear  water  and  cool 
shades  were  there,  and  beautiful  creatures  reared  their 
heads  out  of  the  water,  or  lay  on  the  shore  and  sang 
songs  that  melted  the  very  hearts  of  the  seamen,  they 
were  so  sweet.  But  the  leader  knew  the  danger,  knew 
that  to  land  was  certain  death,  knew  the  seeming  beau- 
ties of  the  island  were  false  beauties  to  draw  to  ruin  his 
sailor  folks.  He  argued  and  commanded  all  in  vain; 
his  men  would  toil  no  longer;  they  were  determined  to 
land.  In  a  moment  of  inspiration  lie  remembered  that 
they  had  a  singer  of  the  gods  on  board,  one  whose  voice 
had  charmed  the  very  dead;  and  he  asked  Orpheus  to 
sing,  and  Orpheus  sang — sang  such  a  song  that  the  sea- 
men heard  the  faithless  sirens  110  more,  and  they  passed 
by  their  island  in  safety. 

It  is  so  with  life:  we  can  only  overcome  evil  things 
that  call  to  us  by  giving  fullest  voice  to  the  best— the 
very  best — there  is  within  us.  Nothing  less  than  that  is 
education.  Let  us  not  only  seek  to  win  it  for  ourselves, 
but  never  cease  our  efforts  until  every  boy  in  the  city  of 
New  York  has  at  least  a  chance  to  win  it  too. 


A  GHOSTLY    WHALING-GROUND. 

THE  ship  had  entered  the  northeast  trade-winds,  and 
was  bowling  along  at  a  ten-knot  gait  under  all  plain 
sail.  It  was  not  necessary  to  start  sheets  or  braces.  Day 
and  night  she  carried  the  same  canvas,  and  with  the 
favoring  breeze  over  her  port  quarter  she  slipped  down 
the  bright  blue  sea  towards  the  equator  with  the  steadi- 
ness of  a  railway  train.  The  changing  of  the  watch  was 
almost  the  only  excitement  aboard.  Occasionally  it  blew 
too  fresh  for  the  royals,  and  they  had  to  be  clewed  up  and 
furled,  but  for  the  most  part  it  was  a  soldier's  march. 
Such  sailing  is  pleasant,  but  it  will  make  the  best  crew 
in  the  world  lazy.  "  Handsome  "  and  his  shipmates  felt 
its  effects,  and  they  lay  about  the  forecastle-deck  in  the 
dog-watches  with  hardly  enough  energy  to  smoke  their 
pipes.  Farmer  Joe,  however,  was  a  little  more  restless, 
and  he  speedily  grew  weary  of  gazing  up  at  the  sky. 

"  Han 'some,"  he  said,  "  yeou  ain't  too  tired  to  talk, 
are  ye?" 

"  Seems  to  me  I'm  almost  too  tired  to  breathe,"  said 
Handsome. 

"Waal,"  continued  Farmer  Joe,  "that's  *11  because 
ye  don't  do  nawthiu'.  Perk  up  an'  git  some  life  into  ye 
an'  tell  us  some  more  o'  yer  whalin'  misfits." 

Handsome  rolled  over  and  grunted  a  feeble  protest 
against  the  proposition,  but  the  other  hands  backed  the 
request  of  Farmer  Joe,  and  Handsome  hove  a  deep  sigh 
as  he  saw  that  he  was  in  for  it. 

"I'm  going  to  tell  you  about  a  curious  performance  of  a 
humpback." 

"What's  a  humpback,  Han 'some?" 

"He  is  a  whale  like  the  rest  of  them.  He  has  a 
great  hump  on  his  back,  and  that's  where  he  gets  his 
name.  The  humpback  is  a  runner.  As  soon  as  he's 
struck  he  runs  to  windward  like  a  race-horse.  Well,  to 
get  to  the  point,  I'll  say  that  the  Captain  of  the  Two 
Cousins  got  discouraged  with  the  luck  after  a  time,  and 
decided  that  he'd  make  a  bee-line  for  a  certain  bay  on  the 
east  coast  of  Africa,  where  he'd  been  told  that  humpbacks 
were  in  the  habit  of  going  to  breed.  I  don't  remember 
the  name  of  the  bay  now,  but  I  do  remember  that  it  was 
a  cracking  big  one,  and  surrounded  by  high  mountains. 
Say.  it  looked  a  good  deal  like  the  harbor  of  Rio,  except 
that  it  didn't  have  any  islands,  and  did  have  a  wide  en- 
trance." 


JANUARY  15,  1895 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


199 


"I  was  deown  to  Rio  oncet,"  said  Farmer  Joe.  "  I  re- 
member that  w'en  I  got  there — 

"Shut  up,  Joe!"  exclaimed  one  of  the  others;  "Hand- 
some's  tell  in'  a  yarn." 

Farmer  Joe  relapsed  into  contemplative  silence,  and 
Handsome  proceeded. 

"Our  first  day  of  humpback  whaling  in  that  bay 
opened  my  eyes  to  a  thing-  or  two.  Say,  those  ugly- 
shaped  brutes,  as  big  as  a  respectable  sloop-yacht,  would 
go  dancing  around  in  the  water  like  so  many  goldfish. 
Why,  say,  you  couldn't  get  anywhere  near  them.  There 
were  plenty  of  them  too,  but  we  lost  our  tempers  and 
tired  ourselves  out  without  once  getting  fast.  You  can 
bet  we  were  glad  to  turn  in  when  the  time  came.  The 
next  day,  however,  we  had  belter  luck.  We  managed  to 
corner  a  big  cow  whale,  and  to  kill  her.  Of  course  she 
sank,  but  it  wasn't  over  ten  fathoms  deep,  so  we  buoyed 
out  our  harpoon-lines  and  rowed  back  to  the  ship.  It 
was  getting  dark,  and  we  decided  that  we'd  have  to  leave 
her  there  overnight,  and  go  back  for  her  the  next  morn- 
ing. We  were  just  about  as  tired  as  we'd  been  the  day 
before,  and  we  went  to  sleep  right  quick,  I  tell  you.  I 
reckon  the  anchor-watch  fell  asleep  too. 

"Well,"  continued  Handsome,  after  a  momentary 
pause,  "  it  must  have  been  somewhere  about  six  bells  in 
the  mid-watch  when  I  woke  up  with  a  jump.  Something 
had  disturbed  me,  but  for  some  minutes  I  didn't  know 
what.  Then  I  gradually  became  conscious  of  a  dreadful 
muffled  groaning'  and  gurgling.  It  sounded  like  a  man 
who  had  been  hurl,  and  then  was  drowning.  I  sat  up  in 
my  bunk,  and  listened  witli  my  ears  strained  so  it  almost 
hurt  me.  Say,  boys,  it  was  enough  to  scare  a  prairie- 
wolf  out  of  his  senses,  it  was.  For  a  considerable  time  I 
didn't  do  anything,  it  seemed  to  me,  except  sit  there  and 
hold  my  breath  and  dig  my  nails  into  the  side  of  the 
bunk.  Then  all  of  a  sudden  the  whole  forecastle  was 
filled  with  one  wild  unearthly  yell.  It  was  the  cook,  a 
colored  fellow  named  Sam — I  suppose  he  had  another 
name  somewhere  or  other,  but  that's  the  only  one  I  ever 
heard.  Anyhow,  he'd  been  waked  up  by  the  same  dread- 
ful groaning,  and  had  fallen  out  of  his  bunk. 

"  '  De  Lawd-a-massey  bress  us  an'  save  us!'  he  screech- 
ed; 'dere's  somebody  down  under  de  ship!  Ghosts!' 

"That  brought  every  man  in  the  forecastle  to  his  feet. 
Bacon,  our  boat-steerer,  jumped  out  of  his  bunk  and 
grabbed  Sam  by  the  neck. 

"  '  Ghosts  your  eye !'  says  he,;  '  who  ever  heard  o'  ghosts 
under  water?' 

"  '  Oh,  jess  listen  to  'ern,  Massa  Bacon !'  cried  poor  Sam. 

"  Say,  boys,  send  I  may  never  see  the  sunny  side  of  the 
Bowery  again  if  that  darky  didn't  turn  a  kind  of  a  sickly 
blue.  Well,  we  did  listen,  and  we  all  heard  the  groan- 
ings  and  gurglings. 

"  One  of  the  men  said:  '  I'm  goiii'  up  to  tell  the  mate. 
It's  his  watch.' 

"  He  jumped  out  on  deck,  and  in  a  second  came  tum- 
bling back  at  the  heels  of  the  mate. 

"'What's  this  monkey  game  that's  going  011  here?' 
demanded  the  mate. 

"  '  Dey  ain't  no  monkey,'  cried  the  terrified  Sam ;  'dey's 
ghosts,  suah.' 

"'Shut  up,  you  chocolate -skinned  landlubber,' said 
the  mate,  sternly. 

"Then  he  stood  still,  and  listened  to  the  noises  him- 
self. 

"  '  There's  somebody  down  in  the  forepeak  playing 
tricks.'  he  said.  '  Bring  a  lantern,  one  of  you.' 

"  He  started  for  the  forepeak,  and  I  grabbed  the  swing- 
ing lantern  off  its  hook  and  followed. 

"  '  Oh,  lawdy !'  yelled  Sam,  '  don't  go  for  to  leave  us  in 
de  dark !' 

"That  was  enough  for  the  other  men,  and  they  all 
started  after  us  helter-skelter,  falling  over  one  another  in 


their  mad  anxiety  to  get  out  of  the  gloom  of  the  fore- 
castle. I  don't  believe  there  was  a  man  of  us  that  wasn't 
scared  by  this  time.  Well,  down  we  all  went  into  the 
forepeak,  the  mate  leading  the  way,  and  I  following  and 
holding  the  lantern  high  so  I  could  look  under  it.  As  we 
went  down,  the  groaning  became  more  miserable  and 
more  distinct  than  ever.  It  was  all  mixed  up  with  a  sort 
of  bubbling  and  choking,  just  as  if  a  man  was  a-holding 
his  face  down  in  the  water  and  trying  to  cry  out.  We 
could  hear  it  as  if  it  was  just  outside  of  the  ship. 

'  '  Come  out  o'  that,  whoever  you  are,'  cried  the  mate. 

"We  all  held  our  breath  and  waited  for  a  reply,  but 
for  a  moment  there  wasn't  a  sound.  Then  there  came 
another  prolonged  groan,  the  worst  we'd  heard  yet,  and 
Sam  fairly  cried,  he  was  so  scared,  but  he  didn't  dare  go 
back  to  the  forecastle  because  it  was  so  dark. 

•'I'll  find  him, 'said  the  mate,  'and  when  I  do  I'll 
give  him  the  soundest  thrashing  he  ever  had  in  his  life.' 

"  He  began  to  pull  around  the  stuff  in  the  forepeak  and 
hunt  for  the  man  he  expected  to  see,  but  of  course  he  didn't 
find  anybody.  He  got  right  forward  into  the  eyes  of  the 
ship,  and  there  the  groaning  seemed  loudest.  But  not  a 
sign  of  any  one  could  he  find.  He  bent  down  and  put 
his  ear  to  the  planks. 

'  'By  the  great  horn  spoon!'  he  yelled,  turning  pale, 
'it's  down  in  the  water!' 

'  '  I  knowed  it!  I  kuowed  it!'  screeched  Sam.  '  It's  de 
spook  o'  some  pooah  sailah-man  wot 's  done  got  drownded 
in  dis  hyar  blame  bay  by  one  o'  dem  humpbacker  beast- 
esses!  Oh,  le's  git  out  o'  dis,  er  we  all  be  gone  'coons!' 

'  Will  you  shut  up?' shouted  the  mate,  fetching  poor 
Sam  a  back-bander  that  knocked  him  clear  off  his  feet. 
'  This  has  got  to  be  reported  to  the  Captain.' 

"We  turned  to  leave  the  forepeak,  mighty  glad  to  go, 
too,  I  tell  you,  and  the  groaning  ceased  as  suddenly  as  it 
had  begun.  The  mate  paused  and  listened  for  several 
minutes.  As  the  weird,  unearthly  sound  did  not  start 
again,  he  seemed  to  become  very  brave. 

'You  men  have  been  scared  half  to  death  about  no- 
thing,' he  said.  'That  was  only  the  creaking  of  a  rusty 
swivel  on  the  cable.  I  remember  seeing  it  there  myself. 
I'll  have  it  taken  off  in  the  morning  watch,  as  soon  as 
there's  light  enough.' 

"  '  Dat's  berry  good,  massa,'  said  Sam,  '  but  I  wish  we 
don't  anchor  in  dis  hyar  same  spot  to-morrow  night.' 

"Several  of  the  men  joined  Sam  in  this  appeal;  and 
the  mate,  appearing  to  humor  them,  said, 

"  'I'll  speak  to  the  Captain  about  it,  and  I  guess  he'll 
not  mind  anchoring  a  little  further  up  or  down  the  bay.' 

"In  spite  of  his  way  of  putting  it,  I  could  see  pretty 
.well  that  he  was  just  about  as  willing  as  any  of  us  to 
anchor  somewhere  else.  He  was  not  in  love  with  groan- 
ing that  came  from  the  water  under  the  ship  and  couldn't 
be  explained.  Say,  I  don't  blame  him  very  much." 

"No  more  do  I,"  remarked  Farmer  Joe,  noting  that 
Handsome  had  paused  a  moment.  "I  remember  once 
that  a  man  up  in — 

"Oh,  shet  up,  you  !"  cried  one  of  the  other  men,  "  and 
let  Handsome  go  ahead  with  his  yarn.  'Taiii't  your  time 
to  talk." 

Farmer  Joe  subsided,  and  Handsome  continued: 

"  The  next  day  we  rowed  off  to  the  spot  where  we'd 
buoyed  out  our  sunken  cow  whale,  and  started  to  haul  up 
the  lines  to  raise  her.  At  the  very  first  pull  the  lines 
came  away  without  any  resistance,  and  we  hauled  in  our 
bare  harpoons.  There  wasn't  a  sign  of  anything  on 
them.  Maybe  we  were  not  disgusted.  But  one  of  the 
men  he  mutters: 

"  '  Might  'a'  knowed  it.  There's  a  hoodoo  on  this  'ere 
place,  that's  wot  it  are— a  hoodoo.  Whales  wot  runs 
away,  an'  then  sinks  when  you  kill  'em,  an'  spooks 
a-groanin'  under  the  ship  in  the  mid -watch,  'tain't  no 
reasonable  sort  o'  a  place  fur  human  critters  to  be.' 


200 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


•BY    THE    GREAT    IIORN    SPOON,"    HE    YELLED,  "IT'S    DOWN    IN    THE    WATER!' 


'  There  blows !' 


found    that 


admit  it.  So  the  whole 
ship's  company  was  mus- 
tered on  deck,  and  the 
Captain  came  and  call- 
ed the  roll.  Every  soul 
was  present.  Then  the 
old  man  ordered  all 
hands  to  stay  on  deck, 
under  the  mate's  eye, 
while  he  took  one  man 
to  carry  a  lantern,  and 
went  below  to  make  an 
examination.  As  luck 
would  have  it,  he  picked 
me.  Well,  to  make  the 
story  shorter,  there  was 
not  any  part  of  the  hold 
that  the  Captain  didn't 
search.  But  all  the  time 
we  could  hear  the  groan- 
ing and  gurgling.  It 
grew  louder  and  louder 
as  we  went  aft,  and  when 
we  were  right  out  in  the 
run  of  her  it  sounded 
most  terrifying.  I  could 
see  that  the  Captain  was 
getting  whiter  and 
whiter,  and  when  he  put 
his  ear  to  the  planks, 
as  the  mate  had  done 
the  night  before,  and 
the  noise  came  from  the  water  outside. 


"At  that  cry   of  course  we  forgot  all  about  hoodoos  he  looked  frightened.     At  that  very    minute   the  ship, 

and  such  things,  and  set  off  in  chase  of  another  hump-  lying  there  at  anchor,  gave  a  great  thump  and  a  shiver, 

back.     We  didn't  get  that  one,  because  we  never  could  as   if  she'd   run    on    a   reef,  and   the   groaning   stopped, 
get  near  enough  to  him  to  heave  an  iron.      He  sported 
and  jumped  along  about  fifty  yards  ahead  of  the  boat, 
and  led  us  a  wild-goose  chase  for  about  eight  miles.      At 

the  end  of  that  time  nearly  every  man  of  us  was  clean  dered  us  to  get  up  the  anchor  and  make   sail,  and   you 

done  up.     Fortunately  the  wind  came  in  off  the  sea,  and  maybe  sure  we  were  not  sorry  to  obey.      I  heard  him  say 

gave  us  a  fair  breeze  to  sail  back  with.      Half-way  up  to  to  the  mate, 


But  that  was  enough  for  the  Captain.  He  bolted 
for  the  deck,  followed  by  me.  It  was  growing  quite 
light,  and  there  was  a  little  breeze.  The  Captain  or- 


the  ship  we  sighted  another  whale,  and  this  time  we  had 
good  luck  enough  to  get  an  iron  into  him.  In  good  time, 
after  cutting  him  half  in  two  with  the  lance,  we  per- 
suaded him  to  die,  when  plump  he  went  to  the  bot- 
tom. 

"  '  Say, 'says  our  boat-steerer,  'ain't  this  enough  to  drive 
a  man  to  drink?' 

"  And  we  all  agreed  that  it  was.  However,  we  buoyed 
out  the  brute  and  rowed  back  to  the  ship.  That  night,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  we  were  all  dead  tired,  we  couldn't 
go  to  sleep  very  early.  The  ship  was  anchored  a  good 
two  miles  away  from  the  place  where  she'd  been  lying 
the  night  before,  yet  we  were  all  very  nervous.  But  as 
time  passed  on  and  nothing  happened,  one  by  one  we 
dropped  off  to  sleep.  Well,  it  was  the  same  old  thing 
over,  only  in  a  little  different  form.  I  woke  up  with  a 
start,  and  sitting  up  in  my  bunk  I  heard  the  same  ghostly 
groaning  and  gurgling  that  I'd  heard  the  night  before. 
But  this  time  it  didn't  sound  as  if  it  was  under  the  bows. 
It  came  from  away  aft.  The  men  began  to  wake  up  and 
peer  out  of  their  bunks  with  pale  faces.  Not  a  word  was 
spoken,  until  Sam  set  up  a  yell: 

"  'Oh,  de  Lawd  -  a  -  massey,  dar  'tis  agin!  Dis  hyar 
niggah's  got  ter  die,  suah  !' 

"The  next  minute  the  mate  appeared  in  the  forecastle, 
and  says  he: 

"  'Turnout  here — all  hands!  The  Captain  isn't  going 
to  stand  this  nonsense.  Some  one's  trying  the  trick  on 
him  to-night.' 


'  'I've  had  enough  of  this;  some  bad  luck '11  happen 
to  us  here.' 

"Just  as  we  were  getting  under  way  our  boat-steerer 
suddenly  cried, 

' ' '  Look,  boys,  look !' 

"We  did  look,  and  there,  sure  enough,  we  saw  the 
Ellen  Burgee  a-coming  up  the  bay.  We  told  the  Cap- 
tain it  was  our  ship,  and  he  agreed  to  back  his  fore-topsail 
yard  and  put  us  aboard  of  her.  She  came  close  to  and 
hailed  us.  When  our  old  Captain  heard  we  were  aboard 
he  was  right  glad.  He  shouted  that  he'd  like  to  come 
aboard  and  visit  the  Captain  of  the  Tiro  Cousins.  He 
did  so,  and  the  two  skippers  fell  to  talking  about  their 
luck.  At  length  our  Captain  says  to  the  Captain  of  the 
Two  Cousins  : 

'  What  are   you  going  away  fer?      This   is   a  good 
ground.' 

"  Then  the  Captain  of  the  Two  Cousins  he  ups  and 
tells  him  all  about  the  groaning  and  the  gurgling.  Well, 
our  old  Captain  he  laughed  fit  to  kill  himself. 

''Are  you  going  to  let  that  scare  you?'  says  he. 
'Why,  don't  you  know  what  that  is?  It's  the  whales 
that  does  it.' 

"At  first  we  thought  he  was  crazy.  But  he  persuaded 
the  Captain  of  the  Two  Cousins  to  stay,  and  inside  of  two 
days  he  took  us  where  we  saw  the  whales  go  down  and 
right  afterward  heard  the  groaning  under  the  boat  in 
broad  daylight.  We  staid  there  a  month  and  got 
plenty  of  bone;  but  I  don't  think  any  of  us  took  a  real 


"Now  we  knew  that  was  all  a  big  bluff.      The  mate     fancy  to  humpbacks  that  could  scare  a  ship's  company 
knew  it  wasn't  any  trick  of  ours,  but  he  didn't  want  to     half  to  death." 


AFLOAT  WITH  THE   FLAG. 


BY    W.  J.   HENDERSON. 

The  men  of  his  crew  heard  him,  and  gazed  in  the  direc- 
tion indicated.      They  saw  a  marine  on  the  poop  of  the 
Trajano  slowly  raise  his  rifle,  take  deliberate  aim  at  the 
TTP  the  bay  the  decks  and  rigging  of  the  foreign  war-     Alma's  boat,  and  fire.     The  sharp  crack  of  his  weapon 


CHAPTER     XXI. 
THE  SHOT  ACROSS  THE  BOWS. 


U  ships  were  crowded  with  men  gazing  at  the  unwonted 
spectacle.  It  must  have  presented  features  for  especial 
consideration  to  the  senior  captain  of  the  English  fleet, 
for  he  had  already  refused  to  do  for  a  British  merchant 
captain  what  Admiral  Benham  was  now  doing  for  Cap- 
tain Lockwood.  As  for  our  two  young  friends,  they  were 
strung  to  an  intense  pitch  of  excitement,  for  they  fully 
believed  that  they  were  about  to  go  into  action.  George, 
nervous  and  active,  could  not  stand  still,  though  he  was 
far  from  feeling  as  much  apprehension  as  Harold.  The 
latter  saw  that  the  Detroit's  situation,  exposed  to  the  fire 
of  three  ships  at  once,  was  highly  dangerous.  But  the 
boy  was  as  steady  and  cool  as  a  veteran,  and  as  he  stood 
near  the  breech  of  the  big  six-inch  rifle,  with  his  hand 
lightly  resting  on  the  butt  of  his  revolver,  Peter  Morris, 
who  was  captain  of  the  gun,  could  not  repress  many  nods 
of  approval.  An  involuntary  gesture  by  one  of  the  men 
called  the  attention  of  all  hands  forward  to  the  move- 
ments of  the  Alma's  crew.  The  monotonous  metallic 
clank  of  her  capstan  pawl  told  that  her  cable  was  slowly 
coming  in,  and  presently  the  stock  of  the 
anchor  appeared  parting  the  lucent  wa- 
ter under  her  forefoot.  Now  a  boat 
which  had  been  lying  under  her  port  bow 
started  forward.  In  it  were  four  seamen 
and  Mr.  Ball,  the  mate.  They  were  en- 
gaged in  an  attempt  to  run  a  warp  from 
the  Alma  to  the  vessel  ahead  of  her  by 
which  to  haul  her  in  toward  the  shore. 
Mr.  Ball  stood  up  in  the  stern  and  hailed 
the  Detroit. 

"Are  we  to  understand  that  you're 
here  to  see  us  through?" 

"That's  our  intention,"  replied  Com- 
mander Brownson.  "You  go  ahead  and 
take  your  bark  to  the  wharf." 

"That's  what  we're  a-doing,"  replied 
Mr.  Ball;  "but  we're  afraid  they'll  fire 
on  us." 

"I  don't  think  so,"  said  Commander 
Brownson,  quietly.  "  But  you  must  risk 
that." 

Captain  Lockwood,  standing  on  the 
poop  of  the  Alma,  saw  Harold,  and 
waved  his  hand  at  the  boy,  at  the  same 
time  calling  to  his  mate,  "Go  ahead 
there,  Mr.  Ball;  the  tide '11  be  drifting  us 
off  shore  in  a  minute." 

"Give  way,  lads!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Ball. 

The  four  sailors  bent  their  backs  to 
the  oars,  and  the  boat,  dragging  the  line, 
began  to  move  slowly  ahead. 

"Ready  with  that  forward  six-pound- 
er," said  Commander  Brownsou,  in  a 
low  tone. 

"All  ready,  sir,"  answered  the  division 
officer,  calmly. 

The  eyes  of  the  captain  of  the  gun 
sparkled  with  excitement  as  he  eagerly 
waited  for  the  order  to  fire.  But  it  was 
not  Commander  Brownson's  intention  to 
become  the  aggressor. 

"  Keep  steady  there,  my  lad,"  he  said, 
quietly. 

"Look!"  exclaimed  Harold,  involun- 
tarily, yet  under  his  breath. 


rang  across  the  water,  and  Mr.  Ball,  rising  in  the  boat, 
shook  his  fist  at  the  insurgent  war-ship.  At  the  same  in- 
stant Commander  Brownson  spoke  in  a  stern,  suppressed 
voice. 

"  Let  her  have  it.  lad,  just  abaft  the  stem,  betwixt  wind 
and  water." 

Bang! 

A  great  fountain  of  white  smoke  spurted  from  the  six- 
pounder  rapid-fire  gun  mounted  on  the  starboard  rail  of 
the  Detroit,  abaft  the  break  of  the  forecastle.  But  from 
some  unaccountable  cause  the  gun  captain  had  misunder- 
stood the  Commander's  plain  order,  heard  by  every  one 
else,  and  the  six-pound  shell  plunged  into  the  water  about 
a  yard  ahead  of  the  Trajano" 8  stem,  throwing  a  shower 
of  spray  over  her  forecastle.  Immediately  Commander 
Brownson  signalled  the  engine-room  to  stop  the  engines. 
and  as  the  Detroit  drifted  ahead,  he  said, 

"Train  all  guns  on  the  Trajano." 

"Left,  ha-a-nd-somely," came  the  low  orders  of  the  gun 
captains;  and  the  trainers  swung  the  breeches  of  the  guns 


THE  MAN  SENT  A  BULLET  WHISTLING  INTO  THE  "  GUAN  ABABA'S  "  STERN-POST. 


202 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


slowly  to  the  left  till  the  yawning  muzzles  pointed  directly 
at  the  insurgent  ship. 

"Steady,  hid,"  said  Harold,  in  a  low  voice,  to  Peter, 
who  was  holding  a  taut  lock-string. 

"Don't  worry,  sir,"  was  the  reply.  "I  won't  pull  till 
I  gets  orders." 

"  Trajano  there!" 

Commander  Brownson's  sharp  hail  cut  the  air  like  a 
keen  sword. 

"Ay,  ay,"  came  the  sullen  response. 

"If  you  fire  again,"  called  the  Commander,  in  a  clear, 
high  tone,  which  must  have  made  every  word  audible  to 
Admiral  da  Gama  aboard  the  Libertade,  "I  will  return 
your  fire,  and  if  you  persist  in  firing,  I  will  sink  you." 

There  was  not  a  heart  aboard  the  Detroit  that  did  -not 
leap  with  exultant  pride  as  these  brave  words  rang  out, 
and  as  for  Captain  Lockwood,  he  threw  up  his  cap  and 
emitted  a  stentorian  cheer.  The  insurgents  appeared  to 
be  completely  amazed.  For  fully  a  minute  not  a  move- 
ment was  made  aboard  the  Trajano,  though  her  officers 
could  be  seen  in  anxious  consultation.  Finally,  at  the 
expiration  of  two  minutes,  she  fired  a  gun  from  her  port 
battery,  her  starboard  side  being  toward  the  Detroit. 
Such  an  action  is  interpreted  among  men-of-war's  men  to 
mean  submission.  The  officers  of  tiae Detroit  smiled  con- 
temptuously, and  the  gun  captains  looked  disgusted.  The 
little  gunboat  was  forging  slowly  ahead  under  her  own 
momentum,  and  Commander  Brownson,  again  using  that 
ringing  tone  which  made  every  word  audible  to  the  insur- 
gents, hailed  the  Alma: 

"Aboard  the  bark!" 

"Ay,  ay,  sir!"  answered  Captain  Lockwood.  with  a 
fine  emphasis  on  the  "sir." 

"Go  ahead  to  your  wharf  if  you  wish  to." 

"And  if  they  fire  on  me?" 

"You  go  ahead  ;  I  will  protect  you." 

The  crew  of  the  Alma  cheered,  and  the  four  men  in  the 
boat  with  Mr.  Ball  carried  their  warp  to  the  ship  ahead. 
The  Detroit's  engines  were  started  again,  and  she  moved 
forward  with  only  mere  steerageway.  She  was  now 
drawing  abreast  of  the  Guanabara,  and  in  a  moment  it 
was  seen  that  the  crew  of  this  insurgent  ship  was  at 
quarters.  The  eight  Armstrong  rifles  and  the  machine- 
guns  had  been  cast  loose,  loaded,  and  trained  on  the 
Detroit. 

"Perhaps  now  we  shall  get  a  broadside,"  murmured 
Harold. 

"Well,  sir,"  whispered  Peter,  "we  mustn't  keep  wot 
isn't  ourn,  and  so  I  reckon  we'll  give  it  back." 

"Train  on  the  Guanabara,"  said  Mr.  Crane. 

The  muzzles  of  the  Detroit's  guns  swung  slowly  as  to 
bear  on  the  vessel. 

"  Guanabara  there!" 

It  was  Commander  Brownson's  voice  once  more. 

"  Tell  your  men  to  handle  their  lock-strings  very  care- 
full}'.  See  that  no  shots  are  fired  by  accident,  for  I  am 
not  going  to  regard  any  as  accidental." 

No  answer  was  made  to  these  words,  and  the  Detroit 
passed  on. 

"Port,"  said  Commander  Brownson.  to  the  man  at  the 
wheel. 

The  helm  was  put  over,  and  the  gunboat  turned  across 
the  Guanabara's  stern.  Her  engines  were  stopped  and 
reversed,  and  the  vessel  lay  motionless  in  a  position  to 
rake  both  the  Guanabara  and  the  Trajano  with  her  star- 
board battery.  But  the  movement  of  the  tide  made  it  im- 
possible for  the  gunboat  to  maintain  this  position  with  the 
limited  space  she  had  to  work  in,  so  Commander  Brown- 
son  gave  orders  to  get  a  buoy  -  rope  on  the  starboard 
chain  and  make  ready  for  letting  go  the  anchor.  Harold 
jumped  to  help  to  superintend  this  work,  which  belonged, 
of  course,  to  the  forecastle.  .A  few  minutes  later  the 
Detroit  came  to  anchor  with  all  ready  for  slipping  her 


cable  and  getting  under  way  at  an  instant's  notice.  Per- 
haps no  one  was  more  surprised  at  the  cool  audacity  of 
this  manoeuvre  than  Admiral  Louis  Phillipe  Saldanhada 
Gama. 

CHAPTER   XXII. 
A    SLAP    IN    THE    FACE. 

As  the  Detroit  lay  there  Harold  noticed  that  several 
small  armed  vessels  under  the  command  of  the  insurgent 
Admiral  had  drawn  near,  and  were  hovering  within 
range  of  the  Detroit.  He  decided  that  the  trouble  was 
not  yet  at  an  end.  And  he  was  right.  The  Alma  was 
still  busily  engaged  in  warping  in,  when  a  loud  report 
broke  upon  the  air.  All  hands  upon  the  Detroit  started 
as  they  saw  a  cloud  of  white  smoke  rising  from  the 
Guanabara's  side,  and  realized  that  she  had  fired  one  of 
her  broadside  guns  across  the  Alma's  deck.  Commander 
Brownson's  brow  was  black  as  night  as  he  sternly  said, 

"Stand  by  your  guns,  lads." 

Then  he  spoke  a  few  low  and  rapid  words  to  a  ma- 
rine who  was  standing  near  him.  The  man  raised  his 
rifle,  and  taking  deliberate  aim,  sent  a  bullet  whistling 
into  the  Guanabara's  stern-post.  Such  an  action  was 
like  a  contemptuous  slap  in  the  face,  but  it  contained  a 
threat  that  the  deadly  broadside  might  follow.  The 
Guanabara  received  the  shot  in  silence.  Commander 
Brownson  watched  the  insurgent  ship  quietly  for  a  min- 
ute, and  then  gave  orders  to  lower  away  a  boat.  While 
the.  execution  of  this  order  was  in  progress,  the  Com- 
mander's eyes  slowly  roamed  over  the  forms  of  the  half- 
dozen  naval  cadets  who  stood  at  their  posts  on  the  deck. 
His  gaze  finally  rested  with  an  expression  of  satisfaction 
on  Harold. 

"Mr.  King,"  he  called,  "come  up  here." 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir,"  replied  Harold,  starting  with  surprise. 

"You  will  go  in  the  boat  to  the  Libertade,"  said  the 
Captain.  "Present  my  compliments  to  Admiral  da 
Gama,  and  deliver  to  him  this  message." 

Commander  Brownson  now  spoke  rapidly  to  Harold, 
whose  attitude  was  one  of  intense  attention.  When  he 
had  received  his  orders,  the  boy  saluted  and  hurried  away 
to  the  boat,  an  object  of  envy  to  every  other  cadet  aboard 
the  ship.  He  urged  the  boat's  crew  to  lively  pulling, 
and  was  soon  alongside  the  insurgent  flag-ship,  which 
was  not  over  two  hundred  yards  away.  He  found  Ad- 
miral da  Gama  on  the  bridge,  surrounded  by  his  staff. 
The  boy  saluted  respectfully,  and  said, 

"I  have  the  honor  to  bear  a  message  from  Command- 
er Brownson,  commanding  the  United  States  steamer 
Detroit." 

He  paused  a  moment,  but  no  one  replied.  They  stood 
and  glared  at  him  with  their  sparkling  dark  eyes.  But, 
as  we  have  already  seen,  Harold  King  was  a  lad  of  cool 
and  steady  nerve. 

"Commander  Brownson  presents  his  compliments  to 
Admiral  da  Gama,"  continued  Harold,  in  a  clear  firm 
voice,  "and  says  that  while  he  is  not  desirous  of  taking 
any  active  steps,  he  lias  his  instructions  from  the  Ad- 
miral commanding  the  United  States  fleet  to  protect 
American  ships  in  going  to  wharves.  He  desires  to  say 
to  you  that  he  will  carry  out  those  instructions  by  reply- 
ing to  any  shots  your  vessels  may  fire,  and  should  you 
persist  in  firing  he  will  open  upon  your  ships  with  the 
Detroit's  entire  battery." 

Admiral  da  Gama's  face  was  pale  and  his  lips  twitched, 
but  he  answered,  steadily:  "  You  will  present  my  compli- 
ments to  Commander  Brownson,  sir,  and  say  to  him  that 
should  he  fire  on  my  ships  I  shall  at  once  lower  my 
colors  and  request  Admiral  Benham  to  take  command  of 
my  fleet.  The  gun  fired  to  leeward  by  the  Trajano  was 
a  gun  of  protest,  not  a  challenge." 

Harold  had  some  difficulty  in  concealing-  his  surprise 
at  this  remarkable  message,  but  he  contrived  to  preserve 


JANUARY  15,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUJNG  PEOPLE. 


203 


the  composure  of  his  countenance,  saluted,  and  returned 
to  his  boat.  "Give  way  with  a  will,  lads,"  he  said  to 
his  crew. 

The  rhythmic  click  of  the  oars  and  the  washing  of  the 
ripples  were  the  only  sounds  that  were  audible.  A 
great  silence  of  suspense  seemed  to  hang  over  the  har- 
bor. The  brave  little  Detroit,  defiantly  anchored  un- 
der the  guns  of  the  Trajano,  Guanabara,  Libertade, 
and  the  smaller  vessels,  made  an  inspiring  foreground 
to  a  naval  picture  whose  distance  was  finely  filled 
by  the  imposing  hulls  of  the  Aqnidaban  and  the  Neiv 
York.  The  Detroit's  boat  was  watched  by  every  eye 
in  both  fleets.  Had  a  single  treacherous  shot  been  fired 
at  her  from  a  Brazilian  craft  a  terrible  and  deadly 
storm  of  iron  would  have  followed.  Harold  sat  bolt- 
upright  in  the  stern-sheets,  and  did  not  deign  to  cast  a 
glance  at  the  rebel  ships.  He  mounted  swiftly  to  theZ>e- 
troit's  bridge,  as  soon  as  he  reached  her  side,  and  repeat- 
ed to  Commander  Brownson  the  words  of  Admiral  da 
Gama.  The  veteran's  lip  curled  with  contempt  as  he 
said : 

"  You  will  return  at  once,  sir,  to  the  flag-ship  of  the  in- 
surgent fleet.  Present  my  compliments  once  more  to 
Admiral  da  Gama,  and  tell  him  that  I  have  already  fired 
on  and  struck  his  ships." 

Some  of  the  officers  on  the  Detroit's  bridge  turned 
away  to  hide  the  smiles  which  this  message  caused.  The 
insurgent  Admiral  must  indeed  have  been  blind  if  he  did 
not  see  from  his  own  deck  the  treatment  of  the  Guana- 
bara. Harold  quickly  returned  to  his  boat,  and  once 
more  shot  away  toward  the  Libertade.  Again  he  mount- 
ed her  bridge,  and  repeated  his  Captain's  words  to  the 
Admiral. 

"  Sir,"  said  Da  Gama,  "you  will  say  to  your  command- 
ing officer  that  I  have  already  called  a  conference  of  my 
captains,  and  my  advice  to  them  will  be  to  surrender  at 
once  to  Admiral  Ben  ham,  and  request  him  to  carry  on  all 
negotiations  with  the  Brazilian  government  in  regard  to 
our  future  treatment." 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  when  this  proposi- 
tion was  subsequently  conveyed  to  Admiral  Benham  he 
smiled  at  it.  He  had  no  desire  to  saddle  himself  with 
the  settlement  of  Brazil's  family  troubles.  His  mission 
was  to  protect  American  interests  and  to  stop  at  that. 
For  the  present,  however,  the  message  of  Admiral  da 
Gama  went  no  further  than  the  Detroit,  where  it  was 
correctly  repeated  to  Commander  Brownson  by  Harold. 
The  Commander  smiled,  and  said  to  his  executive  officer: 

"Well,  Mr.  Crane,  I  am  afraid  we  shall  not  have  any 
battery  practice  here." 

Then  he  turned,  and  with  a  kindly  nod  said  to  Harold, 
"Have  the  boat  hoisted,  and  return  to  your  station,  sir." 

Harold  hastened  away  to  obey,  and  as  he  left  the  foot 
of.  the  ladder  leading  to  the  bridge  he  passed  close  to 
George. 

"  Lucky  boy!"  said  George,  in  a  low  tone.  "You  were 
right  in  it." 

Harold  returned  to  his  post,  where  Peter  was  waiting 
for  him. 

"Wot  did  I  tell  ye,  sir?"  said  the  cockswain.  "We 
kicks  an'  they  squeals.  They're  reg'lar  slobs." 

"What's  the  Alma  doing?" 

"She's  a-gettin'  nearer  to  the  wharf." 

"Hello!     Here  come  those  tugs  again." 

The  two  insurgent  tugs  steamed  down  close  to  the 
Alma. 

"  Keep  a  sharp  eye  on  those  fellows,"  said  Commander 
Brownson. 

One  of  the  tugs  steamed  around  the  Alma.  Suddenly 
a  dishevelled  figure  burst  out  of  the  cabin  of  the  little 
steamer  and  sprang  upon  the  rail  as  if  about  to  jump  into 
the  water.  A  shout  arose  on  the  tug,  and  half  a  dozen 
armed  men  rushed  forward  and  seized  the  young  man, 


but  not  before  he  had  uttered  one  wild  cry  that  flew  far 
across  the  waters : 

"Father!" 

Captain  Lockwood,  standing  near  the  knightheads  of 
his  bark,  heard  the  sound,  and  started  as  if  he  had  been 
struck  by  a  shot. 

"That  was  Bob's  voice!"  he  cried.  "Bob,  my  boy, 
where  are  you?" 

An  inarticulate  and  muffled  cry  was  the  only  answer. 
Robert  Lockwood,  for  it  was  indeed  he,  had  been  forced 
back  into  his  temporary  prison  aboard  the  tug,  and  Cap- 
tain Lockwood  began  to  believe  lie  must  have  been  the 
victim  of  a  delusion.  But  Harold  King  had  seen  every- 
thing from  the  Detroit's  forecastle-deck. 

"  It's  the  Captain's  son, "lie  said,  "and  the  rebels  have 
got  him  again." 

"  W'ich  the  same,"  said  Peter,  very  sagely,  "we  knows 
w'ere  he  are;  an'  if  you  an'  Mister  Briscomb  an'  me  ain't 
able  fur  to  git  him  away,  then  them  Dagos  is  werry  much 
smarter  than  their  ships." 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


A   SIMPLE  ELECTRICAL  MACHINE. 

BY  GEORGE  ASHDOWN  ATJDSLEY. 

IN  this  age  of  electricity,  while  we  hear  everywhere 
around  us  the  hum  of  powerful  dynamos  and  electric 
motors,  which  we  are  familiar  with  in  electric  railways, 
telegraphs,  telephones,  and  electric  lighting,  nothing 
connected  with  electricity  can  well  be  without  interest  to 
intelligent  boys  and  girls.  One  of  the  simplest  and  most 
amusing  electrical  apparatus  is  the  so-called  "  frictional 
electric  machine." 

The  most  important  part  of  the  machine  is  the  glass 
cylinder,  and  this  can  best  be  furnished  in  our  little  ma- 
chine in  the  form  of  a  glass  bottle,  the  shape  and  dimen- 
sions of  which  are  given  at  A,  in  Fig.  1.  This  bottle  can 
be  procured  at  any  drug -store.  Select  as  smooth  and 
perfect  a  bottle  as  possible,  empty  the  water  from  it,  wash 
the  labels  off,  and  set  it  in  a  warm  place  to  drain  and  be- 
come perfectly  dry  internally.  To  expedite  the  drying- 
process  the  bottle  maybe  rinsed  with  pure  alcohol;  this 
will  evaporate  quickly,  carrying  all  moisture  with  it. 
This  cylinder  has  to  be  so  mounted  as  to  revolve  between 
two  upright  supports;  and  for  this  purpose  an  end  piece 
of  some  very  dry  hard-wood  has  to  be  turned,  in  the  form 
shown  at  B,  Fig.  1.  The  face  of  this  end  piece  must  be 
sunk  to  about  the  depth  of  a  quarter  of  an  inch,  so  as  to- 
receive  the  bottom  of  the  bottle  tightly.  The  outer  por- 
tion of  the  end  piece  is  to  be  turned  in  the  form  shown,  to 
serve  as  one  of  the  pivots  of  the  cylinder  and  for  the  at- 
tachment of  the  handle.  The  pivot  piece  should  be  1  inch 
long  by  1  inch  in  diameter;  and  the  piece  on  which  the 
handle  is  to  be  placed  should  be  1  inch  long  by  f  inch  in 
diameter. 

At  this  stage  of  the  work  a  sealing-wax  varnish  should 
be  prepared  by  putting  some  fine  red  sealing-wax  (crushed 
into  small  pieces)  into  a  bottle,  and  pouring  over  it  some 
strongest  alcohol.  Place  the  bottle,  lightly  corked,  in  a 
warm  place,  and  shake  it  occasionally,  until  the  wax  has 
dissolved  and  formed  a  thick  red  varnish.  Keep  this 
tightly  corked  for  use. 

Paint  the  sunken  portion  of  the  wooden  end  piece  with 
three  or  four  coats  of  the  sealing-wax  varnish,  allowing 
each  coat  to  become  thoroughly  dry  before  the  next  one 
is  applied.  The  end  piece  is  now  ready  to  be  fixed  to  the 
bottom  of  the  bottle,  in  the  position  shown  in  Fig.  2 
do  this  in  an  easy  and  satisfactory  manner  proceed  as 
follows: 

Arrange  on  the  kitchen  floor  boxes,  or  any  convenient 
heavy  objects,  so  as  to  support  the  bottle  securely  in  a 
vertical  and  inverted  position.  The  bottom  of  the  bottle 


204 


HAKPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


must  stand  an  inch  or  two  above  the  level  of  the  boxes 
or  supports,  so  as  to  be  easily  manipulated.  When  this 
has  been  arranged  remove  the  bottle,  and  wash  the  bottom 
well  with  hot  water  and  soda,  so  as  to  remove  any  trace 
of  grease;  then  place  it  on  some  support  opposite  the 
kitchen  fire,  with  its  bottom  directed  toward  the  stove. 
It  must  not  be  placed  too  near  at  first,  but  it  should  be 
gradually  advanced  until  it  is  close  enough  to  become 
hot.  While  this  process  is  being  conducted  melt  a  few 
ounces  of  common  sealing-wax  in  a  tin  cup  (provided 
•with  a  handle)  by  setting  it  on  the  hot  plate  of  the  stove. 
Now  place  the  wooden  end  piece  with  its  sunken  and  var- 
nished face  near  the  fire  to  be  warmed;  and,  with  your 
hands  protected  by  thick  gloves  and  cloths,  remove  the 
heated  bottle,  and  carefully  drop  it  into  the  place  provided 
for  its  support.  Immediately  this  is  done  pour  the  melted 
sealing-wax  from  the  tin  cup  on  the  centre  of  the  bottom 
of  the  bottle,  until  its  hollow  portion  is  filled,  and  the 
body  of  wax  stands  a  little  above  the  level  of  the  flat 
margin  of  the  bottom.  Then,  without  delaying  an  in- 
stant, seize  the  wooden  end  piece  and  press  it  down  firmly 
•  on  the  bottom  of  the  bottle,  using  as  much  pressure  as 
you  can  exert.  If  all  this  is  done  properly  a  perfect 
junction  will  be  made.  After  a  few  minutes  lift  the 
bottle  and  place  it  a  short  distance  from  the  fire,  so  that 
it  may  cool  slowly,  and  allow  the  contraction  of  the 
different  materials  to  take  place  gradually. 

The  cylinder  has  now  to  be  mounted  in  the  following 
manner:  Dress  and  square  a  board  of  pine  12  inches 
wide  by  the  exact  length  measured  from  the  cylinder,  as 
indicated  from  C  to  D  in  Fig.  2,  and  f  inch  thick.  Glue 
and  nail  to  the  under  side  of  the  ends  bars  of  pine  2 
inches  wide  by  1  inch  thick,  as  shown  at  E  E  in  Fig.  3. 
Cut  from  a  dressed  pine  board  f  inch  thick  two  stand- 
ards of  the  form  and  dimensions  shown  at  F  F  in  Fig.  3 
and  the  other  drawings.  Cut  the  upper  ends  of  these 
standards  to  fit  the  neck  and  wood  pivot  of  the  cylinder, 
so  that  it  may  revolve  easily,  and  insert  wire  pins  to  keep 
the  cylinder  in  its  place,  as  indicated  at  G  G.  Screw  the 
standards  F  F  securely  to  the  ends  of  the  board  or  stand 
of  the  machine  directly  opposite  each  other.  Furnish 
the  cylinder  with  a  handle  of  the  form  and  size  shown 
at  H  in  Fig.  2,  and  place  the  cylinder  in  position  on  the 
standards,  lubricating  the  neck  and  wood  pivot  with 
powdered  black-lead. 

The  remaining  portions  of  the  machine  consist  of  the 
cushion  or  rubber  and  the  collector  or  conductor.  To 
make  the  rubber,  take  a  piece  of  wood  5-j  inches  long,  if 
inches  wide,  and  -J  inch  thick,  and  tack  along  its  two 
edges  a  piece  of  thin  woollen  cloth  8  inches  long  by  4 


DIAGRAMS    FOR    THE    ELECTRIC    MACHINE. 


inches  wide,  so  as  to  form  a  cushion  when  tightly  padded 
with  soft  hair  or  wool.  WThen  so  padded,  neatly  fold 
the  ends,  and  tack  the  same  to  the  wood.  Cover  the 
cushion  with  a  piece  of  clean  chamois  leather,  stretching 
it  tightly,  and  tacking  it  to  the  edges  of  the  wood  backing 
in  the  same  manner  as  above  directed  for  the  under  cov- 
ering. The  finished  cushion  will  appear  as  shown  at  J 
in  Fig.  4.  This  portion  of  the  machine  is  completed  by 
attaching  to  its  back  by  small  screws  a  support  of  wood 
8  inches  long,  2  inches  wide,  and  f  inch  thick,  shown  at 
K.  Fix  this  support  to  the  stand  of  the  machine  by  a 
2-inch  brass  hinge,  L,  so  that  when  it  stands  vertical  the 
cushion  will  rest  against  the  flat  surface  of  the  cylinder, 
as  indicated  in  the  end  view  of  the  complete  machine. 
To  press  the  cushion  with  the  required  force  against  the 
cylinder  to  generate  the  electricity  use  strong  India-rub- 
ber bands,  passed  through  two  holes  bored  in  the  centre 
of  the  support  (as  indicated  in  Fig.  4),  and  held  by  hooks 
screwed  into  the  centre  of  the  stand. 

The  collector  can  be  readily  made  from  a  piece  of 
round  curtain  -  pole,  about  1J  inches  in  diameter  and  8 
inches  in  length.  Take  this,  and  round  each  end  with  a 
knife  and  file  until  they  are  like  half-balls,  a&  shown 
at  M,  Fig.  5.  Bore  a  f-inch  hole  in  the  centre  nearly 
through  the  wood  for  the  reception  of  the  glass  rod  or 
tube,  N.  Now  paste  tin-foil  carefully  all  over  the  surface 
of  the  wood,  and  rub  it  down  until  perfectly  smooth. 
Cut  about  eighteen  pieces  of  thin  iron  wire,  1-J  inches 
long,  and  drive  them  into  holes,  previously  made  with  a 
bradawl,  in  a  row  along  one  side  of  the  collection,  as  at 
O,  Fig.  5.  Cut  or  file  these  projecting  wires  to  exactly 
one  length  (about  1  inch  from  the  wood),  and  file  their 
ends  to  a  sharp  point  to  enable  them  to  collect  the  elec- 
tricity easily.  The  collector  is  completed  by  driving  into 
one  end  of  it  a  stout  wire  carrying  a  small  brass  ball  at 
its  end,  P,  Fig.  5.  A  lead  ball  or  a  ball  of  wood  covered 
with  tin-foil  will  answer,  but  proper  brass  balls  and  wires 
can  be  obtained  at  any  instrument  store.  The  stand  for 
the  support  of  the  collector  may  be  made  of  two  pieces 
of  wood,  arranged  as  shown  at  Q,  Fig.  5,  the  lower 
piece  to  have  two  long  cuts  made  in  it,  to  allow  it  to 
slide  backward  and  forward  on  round-headed  screws 
driven  into  the  stand  of  the  machine,  as  indicated.  This 
arrangement  permits  of  the  proper  adjustment  of  the  col- 
lecting wires  to  the  surface  of  the  cylinder.  Fix  one  end 
of  a  glass  rod  or  tube,  f-inch  diameter,  into  a  hole  in  the 
support  Q,  and  place  the  collector  on  the  upper  end,  as 
shown  at  N,  Fig.  5.  The  glass  rod  should  be  of  sufficient 
length  to  allow  the  collecting  wires  to  be  1\  inches  above 
the  stand  of  the  machine,  as  indicated  in  the  end  view. 

The  machine  is  completed  by  tacking  to 
the  upper  edge  of  the  rubber,  J,  end  view, 
a  piece  of  old  dress  silk;  this  must  extend 
FlG.2    all  along   the  rubber,  and   be   sufficiently 
long  to  fall  over  the  cylinder  to  within  4 
-—-.   inch   of  the  collecting  points  of  the  con- 
•'  ductor  on   the  other  side.      If  the  silk  is 
thin,  two  plies  may  be  used   with  advan- 
tage.     The   surface    of    the  cushion    which   bears 
against  the  cylinder  must    now    be  smeared  with 
some  prepared  amalgam.      This  amalgam  can  be 
obtained  at  an  instrument  store,  or  made  by  melt- 
ing a  little  tin  in  an  iron  spoon  and  adding  some 
mercury  to  it.      When  cold,  the  amalgam  can  be 
crushed  to  a  powder,  and  then  mixed    with  lard 
into  a  thick  paste.      This  is  fit  for  use,  and  should 
be  evenly  and  thinlj'  spread  on  the  cushion  with 
a  knife  blade. 

To  get  the  machine  into  working  order, 
thoroughly  dry  and  warm  the  cylinder  by  turn- 
ing it  before  the  fire  or  radiator.  The  elec- 
trical machine  is  now  complete  and  in  working 
order. 


JANUARY  lb,  1895. 


HAKPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


205 


THE  LITTLE  RED  BOOK. 

ELLEN  DOUGLAS  DELAND. 
CHAPTER     VII. 

VS  Bertha  Weld 
watched  Mrs.  Rogers 
drive  away  with  the  doc- 
tor she  was  almost  beside 
herself  with  grief  and 
terror.  Mrs.  Rogers  had 
said  that  she  would  hold 
her  responsible  if  Elea- 
nor died.  That  meant 
that  she,  Bertha,  would 
have  murdered  her.  Ber- 
tha shuddered.  When 
she  had  glibly  repeated 
the  sixth  commandment 
in  Sunday-school,  or  had 
heard  it  read  in  church, 
she  had  never  supposed 
that  it  would  have  any 
connection  with  her,  Ber- 
tha Weld ! 

Could  Mrs.  Rogers 
really  have  meant  what 
she  said?  She  certainly 
looked  as  if  she  did.  Ber- 
tha brooded  over  her 
words,  and  the  longer  she 
thought  the  more  desper- 
ate she  became. 

She  sat  for  hours  at  the 
front  window,  leaning 
her  elbow  on  the  broad 
sill  and  her  head  on  her 
hand,  staring  out  into  the 
street  and  seeing  nothing. 
It  was  a  dreary-looking 
little  figure,  and  kind- 
hearted  Katy,coming  into 
the  room,  was  touched 
when  she  saw  it. 

"La,  now,  Miss  Ber- 
tha, why  don't  you  go 
out  and  see  your  friends  a  bit?"  she  asked. 

"  I  haven't  any,  Katy,"  returned  Bertha,  sadly, 
body  likes  me  any  more." 

"Land  salves,  don't   say  that,  Miss   Bertha,  you 
knows  everybody!     Go  out  and  take  a  little  walk;  it  '11 
do  you  good.      Go  now!" 

Thus  urged,  Bertha  rose,  and  putting  on  her  hat, 
walked  slowly  down  to  the  gate.  Just  as  she  reached 
there  Ruth  Barnes  passed  by.  Ever  since  the  theatricals 
and  the  affair  of  the  wig  Ruth  had  been  very  distant  in 
her  manner  to  Bertha,  and  now  that  it  was  known  that 
her  idle  chatter  had  caused  Eleanor's  illness,  she  felt 
more  than  ever  inclined  to  show  her  complete  disapproval 
of  what  Bertha  had  done. 

But,  like  Katy,  Ruth  was  kind-hearted;  and,  like  her, 
she  was  touched  with  the  girl's  appearance.  Bertha's 
face  was  pale,  and  her  eyes  were  red  with  weeping,  and 
there  was  such  a  desolate  look  in  her  whole  air  that  al- 
though Ruth  had  passed  her  by  with  a  cold  bow,  she 
turned  and  came  back. 

"  Bertha,  child,  how  badly  you  look  !"  she  said,  kindly. 
"  I  am  afraid  you  are  troubled  about  something.  Can  1 
help  you?" 

Bertha  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  without  speaking. 
Could  it  be  Ruth  Barnes,  whom  she  secretly  admired  so 
much,  and  whom  she  knew  she  had  offended  so  deeply, 


AND  yOU  KNOW,  DON'T  YOU  ? . .  . 'MRS.  BRBWSTER  KNOWS.'" 


No- 


that 


who  was  now  saying  these  kind  words  to  her  in  such  a 
friendly  way?  Her  eyes  filled  with  tears.  She  could  not 
command  her  voice. 

"What  is  it,  Bertha?" 

"  Oh,  th — thank  you  so  much  for  speaking  to  me!"  she 
faltered,  gratefully,  and  then  turning,  she  ran  into  the 
house. 

Ruth  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  followed  her.  She 
found  Bertha  with  her  head  buried  in  a  sofa  pillow,  sob- 
bing as  if  her  heart  would  break. 

"  Poor  child  !"  said  Ruth,  taking  her  hand.  "  I  am  so 
sorry  for  you,  dear.  It  is  about  Eleanor,  isn't  it?" 

For  answer  Bertha  squeezed  her  hand  and  sobbed  harder 
than  ever.  "She — she  won't  get  well,  and — and — if  she 
dies,  Mrs.  Rogers  says  it  will  be  all  my  fault!" 

"  Have  you  seen  Mrs.  Rogers,  dear?" 

"Yes;  she  was  here  this  morning,  and.  oh.  it  was  so 
dreadful!  She  was  very  angry,  and  says  I  have  killed 
Eleanor.  And  none  of  it  was  true  in  the  diary.  It  wasn't 
true,  and  Eleanor  is  not  an  orphan;  but  it  was  in  the 
diary,  and  I  thought  it  was  true.  Oh,  I  am  so  sorry  and 
so,  so  miserable!" 

"Bertha  dear,  I  am  so  sorry  for  you.  I  don't  under- 
stand all  you  say  about  a  diary,  but  I  see  that  somehow 
you  made  a  mistake.  Of  course  it  was  natural  for  Mrs. 
Rogers  to  be  angry,  and  she  is  so  worried  now  about 


206 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME    XVI. 


Eleanor;  for,  do  you  know,  Bertha,  she  can't  go  into  Elea- 
nor's room,  it  excites  her  so  to  see  her  mother,  because  she 
thinks  she  is  not  really  her  own  mother;  so  it  is  all  very 
dreadful.  But  perhaps  she  will  get  well,  so  you  must  not 
despair  yet." 

"Oh,  how  good  you  are  to  me!"  said  Bertha.  "I 
thought  nobody  cared  for  me  in  the  world,  least  of  all 
you,  because  I  was  so  hateful  to  Eleanor.  And  I  don't 
know  why  I  was.  It' was  just  because  she  was  friends 
with  Madge,  and  sometimes  they  would  be  nice  to  me, 
and  then  for  no  reason  they  would  get  mad,  and  it  made 
me  so  angry.  But  that's  no  excuse.  I  have  been  a 
wicked,  wicked  girl !  But,  Ruth,  that  isn't  all." 

"What  else.  Bertha?" 

"It's  papa." 

"  Your  father?     What  do  you  mean,  child?" 

"He — he  will  hear  that  I've  been  the  cause  of  Elea- 
nor's illness,  and  I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do.  He  will 
be  so  angry  with  me.  He  won't  scold  and  he  won't  pun- 
ish me,  but  he  will  be  so — so  quiet,  and  he'll  look  so 
grave  and  stern.  Oh  dear,  how  can  I  stand  it?" 

Ruth  was  silent  for  a  few  minutes.  Presently  she 
said,  "  Bertha,  I  think  you  had  better  tell  him  all  about 
it." 

"Oh.  Ruth,  I  can't!"  cried  the  girl,  starting  violently. 
"You  don't  know  what  papa  is!" 

"I  can  imagine  from  what  you  say.  And  I  advise 
you,  Bertha,  to  tell  him  yourself.  From  what  I  know  of 
your  father  I  should  judge  him  to  be  a  very  reserved 
man,  very  quiet  and  self-contained." 

"That  is  it,"  said  Bertha;  "and  so  sad.  My  aunt  says 
he  has  never  gotten  over  my  mother's  death,  though  she 
died  when  I  was  a  baby,  and  I  am  fourteen." 

"He  is  reserved  with  you,  and  you  are  shy  with  him; 
but  don't  you  think  that  you  are  old  enough  now,  Ber- 
tha, to  make  some  advances  to  him?  You  are  fourteen, 
and  in  a  very  few  years  you  .will  be  a  grown  woman. 
You  can  make  your  father's  home  life  a  great  deal  hap- 
pier if  you  choose.  And  the  best  way  to  begin  is  to 
throw  yourself  .upon  him,  as  it  were.  If  you  tell  him  all 
about  your  troubles,  and  ask  him  to  help  you,  I  am  quite 
sure  he  will  be  so  sorry  for  you  that  he  will  do  it,  where- 
as if  he  hears  from  outsiders  what  you  have  done  he  may 
feel  differently." 

"I  know,"  said  Bertha,  shuddering.  "  But  it  \vill  be 
very  hard  to  do  it." 

"  Bertha,  you  have  done  a  good  many  wrong  things  in 
the  last  few  weeks,  and  I  think  it  was  partly  because  you 
had  no  one  to  give  you  advice  or  to  warn  you.  Now  I 
am  giving  you  advice,"  and  Ruth  laughed  a  little,  "and 
I  sha'n't  like  it  at  all  if  you  don't  follow  it.  You  tell 
your  father  all  about  it  when  he  comes  home  to-night. 
And  we  will  hope  that  Eleanor  will  get  well,  and  that 
you  will  have  a  chance  to  tell  her  yourself  how  sorry 
you  are."  And  kissing  her  affectionately,  Ruth  rose 
to  go. 

"Oh,  I  am  so  thankful  to  you!"  cried  Bertha,  throw- 
ing her  arms  about  her.  "  I  really  thought  I  hadn't  a 
single  friend  in  the  world  except  Katy.  And  I  love 
you  so  much  I  will  do  as  you  say,  and  tell  papa  myself. 
Good-by,  dear,  dear  Ruth !  Thank  you  so  much  for  com- 
ing in." 

Ruth  left  the  house,  and  turning  to  the  left,  walked 
along  Deane  Street,  intending  to  go  to  Mrs.  Rogers's  to 
inquire  for  Eleanor.  But  as  she  did  so  a  bold  idea  en- 
tered her  mind,  and  she  stopped  short,  overcome  with 
the  audacity  of  the  thought. 

If  she  could  only  see  Mr.  Weld  and  ask  him  to  be 
gentle  with  his  daughter!  She  knew  that  much  depend- 
ed upon  the  way  in  which  he  should  receive  Bertha's 
confession.  He  had  the  reputation  of  being  rather  pe- 
culiar, but  perhaps  it  was  because  nobody  knew  him 
well.  If  she  could  only  meet  him,  she  believed  she 


would  ask  him  to  be  very  careful  in  regard  to  Bertha, 
to  be  very  kind  to  her. 

And  yet  what  right  had  she,  a  mere  outsider  and  an 
absolute  stranger  to  Mr.  Weld,  to  interfere  between  fa- 
ther and  daughter? 

But  while  she  thought  this  over  she  found  herself 
turning  almost  unconsciously  towards  the  village  and 
the  station.  The  afternoon  express  was  in,  which  was 
the  train  upon  which  most  of  the  business  men  came 
back  to  Durham  from  the  city. 

If  she  could  only  happen  to  meet  Mr.  Weld! 

And  looking  up,  she  saw  Mr.  Weld  coming  toward  her. 

He  was  a  tall  slight  man,  with  dark  hair  and  beard 
slightly  tinged  with  gray.  He  walked  hurriedly  and 
with  a  slight  stoop,  and  his  face  bore  an  expression  of 
habitual  sadness. 

He  was  startled  by  hearing  his  own  name. 

"Mr.  Weld!"  said  Ruth  Barnes,  standing  in  front  of 
him. 

Mr.  Weld  raised  his  hat  courteously  and  waited  for 
her  to  continue.  This  Ruth  found  to  be  very  difficult. 

"Mr.  Weld,"  she  repeated,  "I — I  am  afraid  you  will 
think  me  very  interfering,  and  you  must  forgive  me  if 
I  am  doing  wrong.  Bertha,  your  daughter,  is  in  great 
distress."  Mr.  Weld's  face  darkened.  "  You  have  heard 
probably?" 

He  bowed  in  answer. 

"  Please  don't  judge  her  too  harshly.  She  is  very  re- 
pentant, and — and — she  has  had  no  one  who  could  tell 
her.  I  am  so  sorry  for  her.  She  is  going  to  tell  you 
about  it  herself.  Perhaps  I  have  done  wrong  to  speak. 
I  could  not  help  it,  I  am  so  sorry  for  her." 

"You  are  right,  Miss  Barnes,"  said  he,  sadly.  "She 
is  much  to  be  pitied." 

"And  you  do  not  mind  my  speaking?" 

"On  the  contrary,  I  thank  you  for  it." 

"  Thank  you  for  saying  so!  But  please  don't  tell  Ber- 
tha you  have  seen  me." 

And  then  Ruth  hurried  on,  and  Mr.  Weld  went  home. 

That  evening,  after  dinner,  Bertha  and  her  father  had 
a  long  talk.  She  told  him  all  the  incidents  of  the  past 
few  weeks,  sparing  herself  in  no  way,  and  his  heart 
ached  for  his  poor  little 'motherless  girl  when  he  saw  how 
bitterly  she  repented  of  what  she  had  done. 

And  Bertha,  with  her  head  on  her  father's  shoulder, 
felt  comforted  by  his  sympathy  and  kind  words.  It  was 
so  .  unlooked-for,  so  amazing.  Was  it  really  her  silent 
father  who  held  her  so  tenderly? 

And  a  great  love  sprang  up  in  her  heart  for  him,  and 
she  resolved  that  henceforth  she  would  do  what  she 
could  to  make  his  home  life  less  sad. 

But  suppose  Eleanor  were  to  die?  The  old  fear  came 
back  with  overwhelming  force,  and  she  shuddered. 

"Papa,  could  we  send  to  see  how  she  is  now?"  she 
whispered. 

"I  will  go  myself,"  said  Mr.  Weld.  "Get  your  hat, 
and  come  with  me." 

And  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  that  she  could  re- 
member Bertha  and  her  father  walked  out  together. 

The  news  was  not  encouraging. 

"She  is  no  better,"  said  old  Catherine,  at  the  door. 

And  then  they  went  sadly  back  to  their  own  home  to 
wait  until  the  morning. 

It  was  about  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening.  Eleanor 
was  lying  quietly  for  the  moment,  only  half  conscious. 
Her  eyes  had  a  dull  look  in  them,  and  the  flush  of  fever 
was  on  her  face.  Every  now  and  then  she  would  mur- 
mur the  old  words,  "  She  is  not  my  mother!" 

The  nurse,  in  her  white  cap  and  apron,  sat  near  the 
table,  upon  which  stood  a  lamp  with  a  green  shade  and 
one  or  two  medicine-bottles.  The  door  into  the  next 
room  was  partly  open,  and  in  there  sat  Mrs.  Rogers,  tak- 


JANUARY  15,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


207 


ing  care  that  Eleanor  should  not  see  her.  She  was  lis- 
tening intently.  Presently  a  carriage  stopped  at  the 
door,  and  rising  quickly,  she  stole  from  the  room. 

The  front  door  was  noiselessly  opened  and  closed,  and 
Dr.  and  Mrs.  Brewster  came  through  the  hall.  Mrs. 
Brewster  put  her  arms  about  her  friend  and  held  her 
tight.  "You  poor  child!"  she  whispered.  "  Henry  has 
told  me  all  about  it  on  my  way  up  from  the  station,  and 
I  know  just  what  I  am  to  do.  He  has  gone  now  to  see 
how  Eleanor  is,  and  if  it  is  all  right  I  am  to  go  in  and 
put  the  child's  mind  at  rest." 

"  But  it  will  excite  her  too  much,"  said  Mrs.  Rogers,  in 
alarm ;  "  she  must  not  be  excited !" 

"You  may  trust  me,  dear,"  returned  her  friend. 

And,  indeed,  Mrs.  Brewster,  with  her  quiet  manner  and 
her  loving  glance,  was  a  woman  to  inspire  trust. 

Dr.  Brewster  came  half-way  down  the  stairs,  and  beck- 
oned to  his  wife  to  come  up.  She  hastily  laid  aside  her 
hat  and  cloak,  and  silently  kissing  Mrs.  Rogers  once  more, 
went  quickly  up  the  stairs  and  into  Eleanor's  room. 

Mrs.  Rogers  went  into  the  adjoining  one,  and  in  breath- 
less silence  sat  awaiting  the  result. 

Eleanor  was  sleeping  fitfully.  Occasionally  she  awoke 
and  muttered  something,  then  dozed  again.  Presently 
she  opened  her  eyes  and  fixed  them  upon  Mrs.  Brewster. 
"  Why  are  you  here?"  she  asked. 

"I  have  come  to  take  care  of  you,"  replied  Mrs.  Brew- 
ster. 

"I  have  a  nurse,"  said  the  child.  "I  have  a  nurse, 
but  no  mother.  Did  you  know  I  had  no  mother?" 

"No,  dear,  you  are  mistaken.  You  have  a  mo- 
ther." 

"I  tell  you  I  haven't!"  cried  Eleanor,  growing  excited. 
"  She  is  not  my  mother,  and  Mrs.  Brewster  said  so!  Why 
— why,  you  are  Mrs.  Brewster,  and  you  said  so." 

"  Eleanor,  try  to  listen  quietly  while  I  tell  you  some- 
thing. I  never  said  that  Mrs.  Rogers  was  not  your  mo- 
ther. I  said  it  about  somebody  else — some  one  whom 
you  don't  know.  Her  name  begins  with  R,  just  like 
yours,  but  the  name  is  Reed,  and  the  daughter's  name  is 
Emma.  Do  you  understand,  dear?  It  was  Emma  Reed, 
not  Eleanor  Rogers." 

Eleanor  lay  looking  at  her. 

"Are  you  Mrs.  Brewster?" 

"  Yes,  dear." 

"  And  you  know,  don't  you?  Those  were  the  words: 
'  Mrs.  Brewster  knows.'  " 

"Yes,  dear,  Mrs.  Brewster  knows." 

"  Then,  Mrs.  Brewster,  say  it  again,"  exclaimed  Elea- 
nor, sitting  up  in  bed  with  feverish  strength. 

"If  I  say  it,  will  you  promise  to  be  very  quiet  after- 
wards, and  take  your  medicine  and  try  to  go  to  sleep?" 

"Yes!     Yes!" 

"Eleanor,  your  mamma  is  your  own  dear  mother,  and 
you  are  her  own  dear  child.  And  I  am  Mrs.  Brewster, 
and  I  know." 

A  happy  light  came  into  Eleanor's  eyes.  The  nurse 
was  ready  with  a  soothing  medicine,  and  when  she  had 
swallowed  it  she  sank  back  oil  the  pillow.  Presently 
she  was  asleep. 

"  If  she  can  sleep  naturally  for  a  few  hours  and  awake 
in  her  right  mind,  she  is  all  right,"  said  Dr.  Brewster,  as 
he  left  to  visit  another  very  ill  patient.  "  Let  her  mother 
sit  by  her  and  be  the  only  one  whom  she  sees  when  she 
opens  her  eyes." 

And  so  they  sat  for  hour  after  hour  while  Eleanor 
slept  on.  And  during  the  still  moments  just  before  the 
dawn  of  day  they  thought  that  her  spirit  was  slipping 
away  from  them,  so  faint,  almost  imperceptible,  her 
breathing  grew.  But  after  a  time  it  strengthened  again, 
and  at  five  o'clock,  when  she  opened  her  eyes,  they  rested 
in  happy  consciousness  upon  the  face  of  her  beloved 
mother.  Eleanor's  life  was  saved. 


Ten  days  later,  and  Eleanor  was  convalescing  rapidly. 
Her  naturally  'strong  constitution  served  her  in  good 
stead,  and  she  was  rapidly  regaining  strength. 

Madge  had  been  to  see  her  several  times,  and  this  after- 
noon they  were  sitting  together  on  the  piazza.  Eleanor's 
face  was  thin,  but  there  was  a  faint  color  in  her  cheeks, 
and  her  brown  eyes  looked  bright  and  clear. 

The  air  was  filled  with  the  odor  of  fruit  blossoms,  and 
the  little  birds  hopped  gayly  abput,  chirping  cheerfully. 

"Have  you  seen  Bertha?"  asked  Eleanor,  presently. 

"  Only  at  school,  and  I  don't  have  anything  to  do  with 
her.  I  never  shall  again." 

"  Oh,  Madge,  don't  say  that;  I'm  sorry  for  Bertha." 

"  Ruth  says  she  is  very  much  to  be  pitied,  and  that  I 
ought  to  be  nice  to  her,  but  I  am  not  going  to  be.  She 
nearly  killed  you,  and  I  can't  forgive  her." 

"Mamma  felt  that  way  at  first,  but  she  doesn't  now. 
I  have  made  her  see  it  the  way  I  do;  and  Madge,  I 
want  you  to,  too.  Ruth  told  me  how  badly  Bertha  feels, 
and  I  think  we  ought  to  make  allowances  for  her.  You 
know,  we  have  often  been  very  disagreeable,  Madge, 
dropping  her  and  taking  her  up  the  way  we  did.  There 
was  some  excuse  for  her.  And  then  the  diary—"  and 
Eleanor  stopped  suddenly. 

"I  know  what  you  were  going  to  say,"  cried  Madge. 
"You  were  going  to  say  that  I  was  just  as  bad  about 
the  diary,  and  so  I  was.  But  I  didn't  tell  it,  Nell." 

"No,  you  didn't  tell  it,  but  then  you  were  fond  of  me, 
and  Bertha  wasn't.  But  that  is  all  over,  the  reading  of 
the  diary,  and  I  want  to  say  something.  You  know,  I've 
been  very  ill,  Madge,  and  they  thought  I  was  going  to 
die.  I  didn't  die,  and  I  have  the  feeling  that  my  life  was 
given  back  to  me  to  do  some  good  with  it.  I  want  to  do 
every  bit  of  good  I  can.  And  I  feel  as  if  I  ought  to  be- 
gin with  Bertha.  I  told  mamma,  and  though  she  felt 
terribly  angry  with  Bertha,  she  agreed  with  me  at  last. 
And  now,  Madge  dear,  will  you  do  me  a  favor?" 

"  Anything  you  like,  Nell." 

"  Well,  g-o  down  to  Bertha's  house  as  fast  as  you  can, 
and  bring  her  up  here.  Tell  her  I  want  her.  Will  you  ?" 

Madge  looked  at  her  friend  for  a  moment.  Then  she 
threw  her  arms  about  her.  "Nell,  how  good  you  are! 
Of  course  I  will." 

And  in  a  moment  she  was  flying  down  the  hill,  her 
curls  bobbing  and  shaking  as  she  ran. 

She  found  Bertha  easily.     She  was  always  at  home  now. 

"Come,  Bertha!"  she  cried,  bursting  into  the  room. 
"  Come,  Eleanor  wants  you  right  away!" 

"  Eleanor!"  exclaimed  Bertha. 

"Yes,  quick!  And  I'm  awfully  sorry  I've  been  cool 
to  you.  I  was  mad  as  hops  at  you,  but  I  was  just  as  bad 
myself  about  the  diary.  Come  along!" 

And  away  they  both  ran  up  the  hill,  arriving  at 
Eleanor's  side  almost  too  much  out  of  breath  to  speak. 

"Oh,  Bertha,  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you,"  said  Eleanor, 
drawing  her  down  and  kissing  her.  "  I've  wanted  to  see 
you  very  much." 

"  Eleanor,  do  you  forgive  me?"  asked  Bertha. 

"Of  course,  Bertha.  You  didn't  know  it  was  going  to 
make  so  much  trouble,  and  of  course  it  was  natural  for 
you  to  suppose  that  '  Mrs.  R.'  and  '  E.'  meant  Mrs.  Rogers 
and  Eleanor;  but  don't  say  anything  more  about  that. 
It  is  too  dreadful  to  think  of." 

"But  does  your  mother  forgive  me?"  asked  Bertha. 

"  I  do,  my  dear  child,"  said  Mrs.  Rogers,  coming  out 
of  the  house  in  time  to  hear  the  last  words.  "Thanks 
to  my  little  daughter,  I  do."  And  she  kissed  Bertha. 

"Oh,  I  am  so  happy!"  said  Bertha,  her  eyes  full  of 
tears.  "Papa  loves  me  now,  and  you  have  forgiven  me. 
It  is  a  great  deal  more  than  I  deserve.  Eleanor,  whether 
you  care  for  me  or  not,  I  shall  love  you  all  my  life." 

And  she  did. 


208 


HAEPEE'S    YOUNG    PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


'I    LOOKED   ABOUT,  AND    FAR    AWAY    I    SAW    A    LITTLE    SPECK.' 


THE  STRANGE  ADVENTURES  OF  TOMMY 
TODDLES. 

BY    ALBERT    LEE. 
CHAPTEU  V. 

110MMY  could  riot  think  of  anything  to  say,  but  the  ex-Pirate 
soou  broke  the  silence  himself  by  remarking, 

"  /  wrote  it." 

"Oil  yes!"  exclaimed  Tommy,  seizing  the  opportunity  to  say 
something  nice  at  last.  "  The  poetry  was  very  nice.  It  sounded 
like  some  of  the  funny  things  Uncle  Dick  learned  at  college. 
But  you  said  you  would  recite  something  about  pirates  too." 

"  I  will,"  answered  the  ex-Pirate  with  alacrity,  and  he  climbed 
up  on  top  of  the  table  again.  "I'll  read  yon  a  selection  from 
my  autobiography.  I  was  just  writing  it  as  you  came,"  and  he 
pulled  a  large  roll  of  manuscript  out  of  his  inner  pocket.  "  This 
is  Chapter  XVII.  If  you  prefer,  I  will  go  and  get  the  preceding 
sixteen  chapters,  the  introduction,  and  the  preface,  and  read 
them  to  you  too." 

"  Oh  no,"  interposed  the  Sheep.  "  Chapter  XVII.  will  do.  We 
have  not  time  to  hear  any  more." 

"Very  well,"  replied  the  ex-Pirate, clearing  his  throat;  "I 
will  only  read  Chapter  XVII.: 

'The  following  day  the  sun  rose  up  as  usual  from  the  East, 
The  sea  was  calm,  the  sky  was  clear,  the  stormy  winds  had  ceased  ; 
The  Black  Avenger  sped  along  before  a  gentle  breeze, 
And  the  starboard  watch  loafed  on  the  deck  in  true  piratic  ease — ' 

What  is  it?"  asked  the  ex-Pirate,  interrupting  his  lei-tuie 
and  turning  toward  Tommy,  who  looked  as  if  he  wanted  to  ask 
a  question. 

"  I  was  wondering  what  the  Black  Avenger  was,"  said  the  little 
boy. 

"I  supposed  so,"  replied  the  poet,  reproachfully — "I  sup- 
posed so.  The  Black  Avenger  was  the  name  of  my  pirate  ship, 
and  if  you  had  let  me  read  the  first  sixteen  chapters  of  the  au- 
tobiography you  would  have  known  all  about  the  ship  by  this 
time.  1  think  I  had  better  go  and  get  the  other  chapters,"  and 
he  started  to  step  down  from  the  table. 

"Oh  no,"  put  in  the  Sheep.  "We  know  what  the  Ulaci' 
Ari'iifii'i-  is  now.  It's  your  ship." 

"  Yes,''  said  the  ex-Pirate,  dramatically  ;  "she  was  a  low  trim 
craft,  with  tall  rakish  masts — ' 

"Just  like  all  pirate  ships,"  interrupted  the  .sheep. 


••  Not  a  bit  of  it!"  shouted  the  ex-Pirate,  vehe- 
mently. "  She  was  nut  like  any  other  ship  afloat, 
yon  mutton-head." 

"Don't  you  call  me  a  mutton-head!"  retorted 
the  Sheep,  hotly, rising  from  his  seat  on  the  bench. 
"  You  may  think  that  because — 

"  But — "  began  the  ex-Pirate. 

"  — because  you  are  up  there  on  that  table — 

"But — "  began  the  ex-Pirate  again. 

"  Oh,  don't  tell  him  to  butt !"  said  Tommy,  who 
was  beginning  to  fear  that  there  was  going  to  be 
a  tight. 

"  I  didn't,"  said  the  ex-Pirate,  turning  to  the 
little  boy. 

"Well,  both  of  you  stop  quarrelling,"  contin- 
ued Tommy,  asserting  himself.  "  I  think  it's  very 
rude  of  each  one  of  you." 

The  ex-Pirate  looked  at  the  little  boy  as  though 
he  did  not  qnite  understand,  and  the  Sheep  moved 
off  to  the  far  end  of  the  bench  and  began  to  sulk. 
Tummy  was  surprised  to  see  this,  for,  until  then, 
he  had  entertained  a  very  favorable  opinion  of 
his  new  friend.  He  was  surprised  to  see  the  Sheep 
sulk,  because  it  was  something  be  never  did  him- 
self, as  he  had  been  told  that  it.  was  unmanly. 

"  Perhaps  it  is  not  unsheeply,"  thought  Tommy, 
who  was  willing  to  make  every  excuse  possible 
for  the  Sheep. 

"Shall  I  go  on?"  said  the  ex-Pirate  to  Tommy, 
as  he  glanced  at  the  Sheep. 

"  Certainly, "replied  the  little  boy;  "  he  is  very 
ill-behaved.  He  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  him- 
self." 

"I  guess  he  is,"  remarked  the  ex-Pirate;  "he 
certainly  looks  sheepish;"  and  although  this  did 
not,  strike  Tommy  as  being  odd  at  the  time,  he 
wondered  afterwards  how  a  sheep  could  look 
otherwise. 

The  little  man  on  the  table  looked  over  his  manuscript,  and, 
having  found  the  place  where  he  left  off,  read  again : 

"'I  took   my  breakfast  down  below,  and   when  I  came  on  deck 
I  looked  about,  and  far  away  I  saw  a  little  speck 
Upon  the  blue  horizon,  and  I  knew  it  was  a — ' 

I  guess  I'll  have  to  stop  here,"  said  the  ex-Pirate,  suddenly, 
putting  his  papers  into  his  pocket  and  looking  around  uneasily. 

"Why,  what's  the  matter  I"  asked  Tommy,  noticing  the  ex- 
Pirate's  evident  nervousness.  The  Sheep  too  had  straightened 
up  and  was  looking  about. 

"  Don't  you  smell  anything?''  asked  the  ex-Pirate. 

"No;  what  is  it?"  inquired  Tommy,  sniffing  and  looking 
about  like  the  rest  of  them.  But  before  the  ex-Pirate  could  an- 
swer, the  little  boy  heard  a  sort  of  shuffling  noise  coming  from 
the  direction  of  the  woods,  and  presently  he  saw  a  most  peculiar- 
looking  animal,  such  as  he  had  never  seen  or  heard  of  before, 
waddle  out  into  the  open  grassy  space  in  front  of  the  Poor 
House.  The  strange  beast  seemed  to  be  about  the  size  of  a  hip- 
popotamus, yet  he  resembled  a  rabbit.  And  he  was  yellow.  As 
he  came  nearer,  his  body  looked  as  if  it  were  made  of  cheese,  and 
his  long  ears  resembled  pieces  of  toast.  A  sort  of  white  vapor 
floated  off  the  creature's  back,  and,  as  the  breeze  wafted  it  tow- 
ard the  group  at  the  table,  Tommy  noticed  that  it  had  a  fra- 
grant and  appetizing  odor. 

"  What  is  that  thing?"  he  asked,  somewhat  tremulously. 

"That's  the  Welsh  Rabbit,"  whispered  the  Sheep. 

"  Oh,"  said  Tommy.     "  Uncle  Dick  eats  one  every  night." 

'"Sh-h-h!"  said  the  ex-Pirate.  "Don't  talk  like  that.  He 
might  hear  you."  The  Sheep  was  frowning  severely,  and  Tom- 
my feared  that  he  had  said  something  indiscreet.  In  a  few  mo- 
ments he  was  sure  he  had. 

".Never  talk  of  eating  things,"  said  the  Sheep.  "  It  is  a  ten- 
der subject  with  some  people.  Kow  would  yon  like  to  have  a 
lion  come  along  here  now  and  look  at  you  and  ask  me  if  you 
were  good  to  eat  ?" 

This  question,  with  its  suggested  possibilities,  made  Tommy 
feel  uncomfortable,  and  he  moved  nearer  to  the  ex-Pirate. 

"  Are  there  any  lions  hereabouts  ?"  he  asked. 

"There  might  be,''  replied  the  Sheep;  "  lint  they  are  all  well- 
bred  lions,  aud  they  don't  talk  about  things  to  eat."  This 
statement  reassured  the  little  boy,  but  it  made  him  again  eager 
to  change  the  subject  of  the  conversation. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


HARPEKS 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


Copyright,  1895,  by  HARPKR  &  BROTHERS.     All  Rjjlils  Res 


PUBLISHED    WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI. — NO.  795. 


NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY,  JANUARY  22,  1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO   DOLLARS  A    TEAR. 


QABE     LOLAR'S    CARIBOU. 


BY    TAPPAN    ADNEY. 


ONE  day  a  bundle  of  caribou-hides,  wrapped  in  gunny- 
sacking1  or  burlap,  arrived  at  the  warehouse  of  a 
dealer  in  hides  down  in  "The  Swamp,"  as  that  part  of 
New  York  city  lying-  immediately  south  of  the  Brooklyn 
Bridge  is  known.  So  small  a  consignment  as  this  would 
hardly  be  given  a  second  thought  by  a  large  dealer  like 
Mr.  Cilley.  But  it  had  a  special  interest  for  me  when, 
at  about  the  same  time,  I  received  a  letter  bearing  a  Ca- 
nadian stamp  and  addressed  in  the  familiar  handwriting 
of  Humbolt  Sharpe,  authorizing  me  to  take  charge  of  his 
shipment  of  hides,  the  result  of  his  last  hunting  trip. 

Humbolt  was  an  old  friend  and  the  companion  of  many 
a  hunting-  expedition  in  the  New  Brunswick  woods,  con- 


sequently I  was  pleased  to  be  able  to  help  him  in  this 
way. 

Mr.  Cilley  was  to  keep  the  hides,  while  the  heads  of 
any  that  could  be  used  for  mounting,  together  with  sev- 
eral pairs  of  antlers,  were  to  go  to  a  certain  taxidermist. 

We  opened  the  bundle  in  Mr.  Cilley 's  warehouse,  and 
the  hides,  numbering  upwards  of  a  dozen,  were  spread 
out  upon  the  floor  to  be  examined  one  by  one.  While 
we  were  sorting'  them  over,  our  attention  was  drawn  (us 
I  afterwards  recalled  more  particularly)  to  a  certain  one 
which,  instead  of  having  been  taken  off  in  the  usual  way 
by  a  cut  below,  had  been  removed  by  a  cut  along  the 
middle  of  the  back.  Except  for  this,  there  was  no  other 


210 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME    XVI. 


mark  by  which  I  could  have  recalled  it,  as  the  antlers, 
indeed,  were  smaller  than  the  average.  The  skins  were 
divided  up  and  weighed,  and  in  due  course  I  received  the 
checks  for  the  amount  of  their  value  and  forwarded  them 
to  Humholt. 

Hardly  anything  more  was  thought  about  the  matter 
until  nearly  a  year  later,  when  I  paid  a  visit  to  that  part 
of  the  world. 

Humbolt  had  favored  me  with  only  the  barest  account 
of  his  famous  hunt  (about  as  much  as  a  fellow  ever  does 
put  in  a  letter),  consequently  when  two  old  hunting  com- 
panions got  within  arm's -length  and  ear-shot  of  each 
other,  as  a  matter  of  course  no  time  was  wasted  in  pre- 
liminaries. 

We  went  out  into  the  public  sitting-room  of  the  little 
village  stopping-place,  or  inn,  where  we  could  draw  our 
chairs  close  up  around  the  red-hot  stove  in  the  middle  of 
the  room,  whence  we  could  look  out  through  the  double- 
sashed  windows  upon  the  wintry  landscape,  with  the  whole 
world  buried  in  deep  snow,  and  the  River  St.  John  bridged 
with  solid  ice. 

Almost  the  first  thing  Humbolt  said  was,  "Did  you 
take  notice  of  one  of  those  hides  that  was  ripped  up  the 
back ;" 

Then  I  remembered  having  seen  the  one, and  I  answered, 
"Yes!"  in  the  way  one  does  when  one  asks  a  question. 

But  Humbolt,  like  a  true  backwoodsman,  couldn't  pro- 
ceed without  due  preparations,  so  in  a  leisurely  way  he 
first  fished  out  of  one  pocket  an  old  black  brier -wood 
pipe,  and  from  another  a  plug  of  tobacco.  He  shaved  off 
some  tobacco,  rubbed  it  between  his  palms  to  soften  it, 
and  stuffed  his  pipe  full.  No  woodsman  can  do  anything 
without  this  preparation.  Having  got  the  smoke  started, 
Humbolt  settled  back  in  his  chair  and  began: 

"I  never  could  quite  make  up  my  mind  whether  that 
caribou  belonged  more  to  rne  than  to  Gabe  Lolar.  What  I 
did  doesn't  count  for  much,  it  was  just  luck,  but  I  cal'late 
if  it  hadn't  been  for  Gabe,  in  the  first  place,  we  wouldn't 
have  got  the  caribou. 

''  I'd  heard  a  good  deal  about  Mirimichi  River  being  a 
great  place  for  caribou,  but  I'd  never  been  over  there  be- 
fore. One  man  came  from  over  there,  and  he  said  that 
the  caribou  were  fairly  learin'  the  woods  down,  and  if 
somebody  didn't  git  over  there  quick  they'd  have  all  the 
woods  tore  to  pieces.  He  said  he  never  saw  the  like. 
They  were  just  like  cattle  in  a  back  pasture.  Where  the 
men  were  working,  in  the  lumber  woods,  when  they  left 
off  at  night  the  caribou  came  around  to  feed  on  the  fresh 
tops  and  the  moss,  and  next  mornin',  he  said,  the  snow  'd 
be  all  tramped  down  just  like  a  barn-yard.  So  I  didn't 
say  a  thing,  but  I  just  took  Gabe  Lolar  —  he's  a  good 
Injun  and  a  steady  fellow  when  he  isn't  lazy-^-and  Sa- 
battis  Something -or -other,  another  Injun,  down  from 
Tobique,  and  we  drove  over  to  Sou'west  Mirimichi  with 
all  our  stuff.  We  didn't  go  to  a  lumber  camp,  but  we 
found  a  small  camp  right  handy  to  one  of  the  roads.  It 
was  the  nicest  little  camp  you  ever  saw,  made  out  of  logs 
and  boards  and  the  snow  was  all  over  the  top  of  it  so 
deep  you  could  hardly  tell  where  it  was.  I  guess  it  be- 
longed to  some  of  those  men  that  go  there  fishin'  in  the 
summer-time. 

"Well,  I  never  expected  to  see  what  we  did.  We 
killed  just  what  you  saw,  but  we  could  have  killed  a  hun- 
dred. I  believe,  just  as  easy  as  not.  We  took  only  what 
we  could  save.  We'd  been  in  there  a  while  when  one 
day  I  thought  I  wouldn't  go  out,  as  I  had  some  work  to 
do  in  rump.  -  So  all  hands  staid  in.  But  along  after 
dinner  Gabe  got  restless,  and  thought  he'd  take  a  little 
cruise  around,  and  he  asked  if  he  might  take  my  gun  in 
place  of  his  own.  which  was  only  a  shot-gun.  My  gun 
was  a  Colt's  Repeater,  holds  fourteen  shots  in  the  maga- 
zine and  another  in  the  barrel.  So  I  said  'all  right,' 
but  before  I  gave  him  the  gun  1  cal'lated  I'd  better  show 


him  how  to  work  the  thing,  because — you  know  how  it  is 
—  sometimes  a  cartridge  gets  stuck  half-way,  and  you 
can't  get  it  in  or  out  without  some  trouble.  He'd  seen  me 
work  the  gun,  and  I  guess  he  thought  all  he  had  to  do 
was  to  pull  the  slide  backward  and  forward.  I  showed 
him  how  you  pull  the  slide  to  you  quick,  like  this,  and 
then  shove  it  back  hard,  like  that.  Then  the  gun's  cocked 
and  all  ready  to  pull  the  trigger. 

"  '  Oh,  sartin,'  Gabe  said,  'he  knew  all  about  it.'  I 
filled  the  rifle  all  it  would  hold,  and  put  another  in  the 
barrel  (but  that  isn't  safe). 

"  Gabe  started  off  with  the  rifle  along  the  lumber  road. 
It  was  well  broke  out  and  easy  travelling  so  we  gener- 
ally used  to  start  off  that  way  as  far  as  we  wanted  to  go. 
Pretty  soon  Gabe  turned  off  into  the  woods.  Then  he 
had  to  slip  on  the  snow-shoes.  It  was  a  warm  spell,  and 
a  thin  crust  had  formed  over  the  snow.  It  was  pretty 
near  strong  enough  to  hold  a  man  without  the  shoes,  but 
it's  mighty  hard  travel!  in'  when  you  go  in  your  whole 
leg  every  other  step.  Gabe  didn't  go  any  ways  at  all 
hardly  before  he  struck  a  big  caribou.  The  caribou 
started  to  run,  but  it  got  stuck  the  first  thing. 

"Now  I  don't  care  how  deep  the  snow  is,  it  may  be 
six  feet,  but  caribous  don't  mind  it  a  bit  more'ii  you'd 
mind  a  foot.  They  just  spread  out  their  hoofs  and  jump, 
landin'  on  their  gambrels  and  dew-claws,  and  get  along 
in  snow  that  'd  stall  a  deer  or  a  moose.  And  it  doesn't 
take  much  of  a  crust  to  carry  them,  either.  Whenever 
a  caribou's  got  any  kind  of  footiii'  it's  'good-by.'  But 
that  time  the  crust  was  too  weak.  It  \vas  just  so  the 
caribou  cut  through  every  step,  and  it  was  hard  and  as 
sharp  as  glass. 

"Well,  Gabe  started  after  it,  and  when  he  came  to 
where  it  was  he  took  aim  (I  found  out  all  about  it  from 
Sabattis),  and  then  gave  the  slide  a  hard  jerk.  Of  course 
that  chucked  the  cartridge  that  was  already  in  the  ban-el 
out  into  the  snow.  Then  he  shoved  the  lever  back  quick, 
and  that  threw  a  fresh  cartridge  iii  out  of  the  magazine. 
Just  then  the  caribou  got  another  whiff  of  Gabe  (Injuns 
smell  pretty  strong,  livin'  in  smoky  camps  all  the  time), 
and  it  started,  but  had  to  stop  soon.  The  crust  ketched 
its  knees,  and  it  couldn't  run  far.  Gabe  must  have  got 
rattled  by  that  time.  As  soon  as  he  got  another  chance, 
he  pointed  the  gun  and  did  the  same  thing  he  did  before. 
Then  he  kept  on  pumpiii',  and  eveVy  time,  he  pulled  the 
lever  back  he  sent  a  cartridge  sphmiii'  into  the  air,  and 
he  never  even  stopped  to  pick  'em  up.  He  kept  on  till 
he  fired  every  blamed  one  out  of  the  gun,  and  then  he 
didn't  know  what  to  do,  at  first. 

"  But  Gabe  wasn't  such  a  big  fool  either.  He  got  over 
bein'  nervous,  and  he  saw  about  how  the  caribou  was 
goin'.  So  he  said  to  himself  that  if  he  couldn't  shoot 
that  caribou  himself  he  could  drive  it  toward  camp,  where 
somebody  else  might.  He  started  at  the  caribou  again, 
and  found  he  could  drive  'most  any  way  he  liked.  The 
caribou  could  hardly  get  along  at  all.  Gabe  said  he 
could  go  right  up  close  before  it  would  start.  Well,  he 
drove  it  along  ahead  of  him  until  he  got  pretty  near  the 
camp.  About  that  time  I  heard  some  one  holler,  and  I 
stuck  my  head  out  of  the  door,  and  saw  there,  about  eight 
or  ten  rod  off,  the  caribou  up  to  its  middle  in  the  snow, 
and  Gabe  right  after  it,  wavin'  his  arms  like  frantic,  and 
didn't  know  what  he  was  sayin'.  It  was  somethin'  in 
Injun,  most  likely. 

"  I  yelled  out  to  Gabe,  '  Why  don't  you  shoot?' 

"But  I  didn't  wait  to  hear  what  he  said. 

"  I  dived  back  into  the  camp,  and  fell  over  Sabattis 
stretched  out  on  the  floor  asleep,  and  I  think  he  was  go- 
in'  to  kill  me,  until  he  got  awake  and  found  out  what  was 
the  matter.  I  grabbed  the  first  gun  in  reach.  It  was 
empty.  I  tell  you  I  never  rammed  in  a  charge  as  quick 
as  I  did  that.  I  didn't  stop  to  ram  the  powder,  and  it's  a 
wonder  I  didn't  put  the  powder  on  top  of  the  bullet,  or 


JANUARY  22,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


2H 


forget  to  put  the  cap  ou.  I  knew  there  was  no  time  to 
waste,  for  if  that  caribou  ever  struck  the  hard  road,  you  can 
wager  that  there's  nothiu'  that  could  touch  'im.  I  got  out 
of  the  camp,  and  before  I  could  get  a  clear  whack,  for  the 
bushes,  the  caribou  had  struck  the  road.  That  caribou 
had  just  been  restin'.  I  jumped  into  the  road  myself, 
just  to  see  him  limn.'  right  away  from  me,  down  hill,  on 
the  keen  jump.  It  was  a  straight  piece  of  road  leadin' 
down  a  little  grade  to  the  brook,  and  that  gave  me  a  good 
chance.  I  just  drew  a  bead  as  nice  as  I  could  and  let  go. 
That  caribou  turned  clean  over;  I  never  saw  anything 
so  slick  in  my  life. 

"I  ran  down  to  where  the  caribou  fell,  and  Sabattis 
right  after  me,  and  then  Gabe  came  up  with  my  rifle  still 
in  his  hand.  He  looked  foolish  and  glad  at  the  same 
time.  I  said  to  him,  the  first  thing:  '  What's  the  matter, 
Gabe?  I  didn't  hear  you  shoot.' 

"I  took  hold  of  the  rifle,  and  when  I  looked  into  it  I 
saw  it  was  empty.  That  kinder  knocked  me.  But  in  about 
a  minute  it  dawned  upon  me  how  it  was.  I  looked  at 
Gabe,  but  Gabe  was  looking  at  the  fallen  caribou.  He 
was  not  a  man  of  words,  and  at  that  moment  had  some- 


thing else  to  attend  to.      But  Sabattis,  with  a  wide  grin, 
made  the  only  comment  necessary. 

'  '  I  guess  Gabe  forgit  to  pull-em  trigger,  mebbe.' 

"The  Indians  then  drew  out  their  hunting-knives, 
while  I  walked  around  behind  the  caribou,  and  dis- 
covered that  slit  up  the  back  that  you  saw.  When  I 
looked  closer  I  saw  how  it  was.  The  bullet  had  struck 
it  from  above  squarely  in  the  middle  of  the  back,  and  it 
had  travelled  along  under  the  skin,  and  ripped  it  open  as 
clean  as  if  had  been  done  with  a  knife.  The  bullet  had 
fetched  up  in  its  neck,  and  I  don't  suppose  the  caribou 
ever  knew  what  touched  it.  It  was  one  of  those  shots 
you  wouldn't  make  again  in  a  thousand  years.  But,  I 
tell  you,  I'd  'a'  given  a  good  deal  to  have  seen  Gabe  tryin' 
to  work  that  new-fangled  rifle,  and  maybe  pokin'  at  the 
caribou  with  his  gun  to  make  it  get  along.  Gabe  worked 
hard  for  him,  and  after  all  the  trouble  he  had  workin' 
him  in,  it  belonged  to  Gabe,  by  right." 

Then  changing  the  subject  abruptly,  he  turned  to  me, 
and  added,  eagerly, 

"  I  suppose  you'll  have  to  have  a  hunt  before  you  go 
back?" 


ON    THE     EARTH     AND     IN    THE     SKY. 


WHAT     WE     KNOW     OF    THE     MOON. 

BY  PROFESSOR  WILLIAM  M.  DAVIS,  OF  HARVARD  UNIVERSITY. 


A  LITTLE  way  up  the  street  from  my  house  is  the 
side  gate  of  the  observatory  grounds;  there  a  path 
leads  to  the  back  door,  from  which  the  stairs  ascend  to 
the  little  dome  which  stands  to  the  right.  On  mild  even- 
ings in  the  spring  and  fall,  before  and  after  vacation,  my 
boys  sometimes  go  up  there  with  me  for  a  half-hour  with 
the  stars  or  for  a  trip  to  the  moon.  This  is  our  play, 
for  my  own  work  lies  in  other  directions;  but  the  play 
gives  us  good  lessons  in  astronomy.  It  is  easy  study- 
ing about  planets  while  looking  at  one  of  them  through 
the  telescope. 

Of  all  our  evenings,  those  when  a  half-moon  is  shining 
give  the  greatest  entertainment.  Nothing  in  the  sky  is 
nearly  so  beautiful  or  so  well  shown  in  a  middle-sized  tele- 
scope as  the  moon,  with  its  plains  and  mountains.  Every 
part  calls  for  scrutiny;  and  if  a  peculiar  marking  here  or 
there  excites  our  curiosity,  we  put  on  a  "higher  power" 
and  .have  a  closer  look  at  it.  Down  stairs  is  the  astro- 
nomical library,  with  maps  of  the  moon  and  books  about 
it,  from  which  we  can  learn  what  astronomers  have  found 
out  concerning  the  lunar  mountains,  their  great  height, 
and  the  depth  of  the  circular  pits  within  their  ringlike 
walls.  I  wish  that  many  others  had  so  pleasant  a  neigh- 
bor as  the  observatory  is  to  us. 

One  cannot  help  feeling  gratified  that  his  lot  is  cast  on 
a  moonlit  planet,  like  the  earth,  and  not  on  a  moonless 
planet,  like  Venus,  where  no  such  lovely  object  adorns 
the  sky,  where  the  days  are  too  bright  and  the  nights  too 
dark.  Of  all  the  moons  in  the  solar  system,  we  have  a 
right  to  be  particularly  well  pleased  with  ours,  for  com- 
pared to  our  planet  the  moon  is  exceptionally  large,  and 
gives  us  a  more  fitting  companionship  in  the  solitudes  of 
space  than  other  planets  find  with  their  satellites.  To  be 
sure,  the  boys  ou  Jupiter  may  boast  of  having  four  moons 
to  our  one;  and  they  may  appropriately  feel  "jovial"  in 
their  excess;  but  the  moons  there  are  very  small  compared 
to  Jupiter  himself.  The  boys  on  Saturn  may  brag  of  a 
•ring  the  like  of  which  we  have  not  here,  not  even  in  the 
best- welded  city  governments;  but  their  moons  are  rela- 
tively small.  The  boys  on  Mars  may  take  pride  in  the 
unique  fact  that  while  the  sun  and  the  stars  rise  in  the 


east  and  cross  their  sky  westward  in  the  regular  way,  one 
of  their  moons  rises  in  the  west  and  runs  backward  across 
the  sky;  but  it  is  a  poor  little  scrap  of  a  moon,  probably 
less  than  ten  miles  in  diameter.  Really,  considering  that 
the  earth  is  a  planet  of  modest  dimensions,  it  has  done 
very  well  to  attach  so  large  a  moon  to  its  wanderings. 

Let  us  run  over  what  is  known  of  the  moon,  and  see  if 
we  cannot  plan  a  little  course  in  home-made  observations 
by  which  many  of  the  astronomer's  discoveries  can  be  re- 
peated and  thus  brought  nearer  to  our  understanding. 

How  far  away  is  it?  If  you  know  how  large  the  earth 
is,  you  can  lay  out  a  plan  of  work  that  will  measure  the 
distance  of  the  moon  much  in  the  same  way  that  was 
done  by  the  French  astronomer  Lacaille,  who  observed 
from  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  a  hundred  and  forty  years 
ago,  while  his  friends  observed  in  Europe.  As  he  was 
then  about  4000  miles  away  from  them,  that  being  the 
length  of  a  meridian  chord  between  the  two  observatories, 
the  moon  seemed  to  stand  a  little,  further  north  in  the  sky 
when  seen  by  Lacaille  than  when  viewed  from  Europe. 
On  measuring  this  displacement,  it  was  found  to  be  about 
a  degree  of  arc,  or  twice  the  angular  diameter  of  the 
moon;  and  hence,  as  any  boy  or  girl  may  prove  with  a 
ruler  and  angular  protractor,  the  distance  to  the  moon 
must  be  about  sixty  times  the  distance  from  the  Cape  of 
Good  Hope  to  middle  Europe,  or  240,000  miles.  Any 
high-school  scholar  can  repeat  the  essential  steps  of  this 
great  measurement,  if  he  can  secure  a  correspondent  in 
about  his  own  longitude  in  the  sou  them  hemisphere;  west- 
ern South  America  and  eastern  North  America  offer 
many  pairs  of  places  that  will  serve  well  in  this  respect. 
Let  the  observers  agree  that  each  of  them  shall  track 
the  moon  through  the  stars  for  a  certain  week;  that  each 
shall  send  the  other  a  tracing  of  the  observed  track; 
then  each  one  can  measure  the  angle  between  the  tracks, 
and  (knowing  how  far  the  observers  are  apart  along  a 
meridian  chord)  each  can  calculate  the  distance  to  the 
moon,  and  then  compare  the  results.  A  boy  who  does 
this  will  ever  afterwards  have  a  fuller  sense  of  what  as- 
tronomy is  than  if  he  reads  many  books.  Of  course, 
when  the  distance  to  the  moon  is  known,  its  diameter  in 


212 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


miles   is   easily  found    by  measuring  its   angular  diam- 
eter. 

Now  here  is  a  neat  little  extension  of  this  problem.  If 
you  have  found  out  how  far  away  the  moon  is,  you  can 
get  a  fair  idea  of  the  distance  to  the  sun  in  this  manner. 
Watch  the  moon  at  the  time  of  its  first  quarter.  Deter- 
mine as  closely  as  you  can  when  it  is  just  half  illuminated 
— that  is,  when  the  rough  edge  or  "  terminator"  between 
its  light  and  dark  parts  is  a  straight  line,  as  in  the  accom- 
panying view.  By  patiently  watching  through  several 
months  you  will  at  last  have  a  chance  to  see  a  straight 
terminator  when  the  moon  is  in  the  eastern  sky,  before 
sunset,  and  then  by  means  of  two  sighting-sticks  you 
can  measure  the  angle,  at  whose  apex  you  stand,  between 
the  sun  to  the  moon.  Now  what  is  the  geometry  of  this 
problem?  Manifestly,  these  three  bodies,  sun,  moon, 


THE    HALF   MOON,  SHOWING    TERMINATOR. 

and  earth,  are  at  the  points  of  a  triangle ;  the  angle  at  the 
moon  must  be  a  right  angle  (demonstrate  this  for  your- 
selves), and  the  angle  at  the  sun  must  be  a  right  angle 
diminished  by  the  angle  that  you  have  measured  from 
sun  lo  moon.  Draw  out  a  triangle  of  this  shape  on  a 
large  sheet  of  paper;  then,  knowing  how  far  it  is  from 
earth  to  moon,  find  out  how  many  times  further  it  is  to 
the  sun.  Old  Aristarchus  of  Samos  did  this  twenty  cen- 
turies ago;  but  his  results  were  not  good;  not  better  than 
those  that  any  bright  young  observer  can  now  gain  for 
himself. 

Gro  a  step  further,  if  you  like.  If  the  sun  looks  as  large 
as  the  moon,  in  spite  of  being  really  so  much  further 
away,  how  much  larger  is  it  in  actual  diameter?  It  gives 
point  to  the  study  of  geometry  and  trigonometry  to  apply 
their  principles  to  problems  of  such  grand  dimensions  as 
those  of  astronomy.  Even  if  the  measures  are  not  exact, 
the  principles  are  correct,  and  are  the  same  as  those  em- 
ployed by  the  greatest  astronomers  of  the  world. 

The  discovery  of  the  mountains  on  the  moon  by  Gal- 
ileo were  among  the  first  results  of  the  invention  of  tel- 
escopes. A  very  ordinary  modern  glass  reveals  them  ; 
and  a  telescope  of  four  or  five  inches  aperture  shows 
them  in  much  detail;  an  endless  delight  for  the  observer. 
Over  thirty  thousand  of  them  have  been  charted  on  maps 
of  the  moon  !  Nearly  all  of  these  mountains  have  a  ring- 


like  form,  with  the  central  area  depressed,  often  to  a  low- 
er level  than  that  of  the  surrounding  country,  as  is 
known  by  the  relative  length  of  the  internal  and  external 
shadows.  The  diameter  of  the  rings  varies  greatly, 
some  of  the  larger  being  fifty,  one  hundred,  or  even  one 
hundred  and  fifty  miles,  while  the  smaller  look  like  lit- 
tle dots  in  large  telescopes.  Their  height  above  the  sur- 
rounding plains  may  be  as  much  as  three  or  four  miles; 
this  being  less  than  the  highest  of  terrestrial  mountains, 
but  greater  in  proportion  to  the  size  of  the  moon  than  any 
of  our  mountains  are  to  the  earth.  On  account  of  the  re- 
semblance of  these  ring  mountains  to  certain  terrestrial 
volcanoes,  it  has  long  been  concluded  that  they  were 
produced  by  volcanic  action,  although  no  certain  sign 
of  volcanic  activity  has  been  detected  by  direct  observa- 
tion. This  conclusion  is  very  generally  accepted;  yet 
there  are  reasons  for  questioning  it,  or  at  least  for  hold- 
ing an  open  mind  with  regard  to  the  origin  of  the  rings 
and  craters  of  the  moon. 

In  the  first  place,  nearly  all  the  volcanoes  of  the  earth 
have  a  large  cone  and  a  relatively  small  crater,  while 
the  reverse  is  true  of  the  moon.  It  is  true  that  in 
certain  terrestrial  volcanic  districts  the  upper  portion 
of  the  cones  has  been  in  some  way  destroyed — blown  off 
or  fallen  in — leaving  a  broad  and  deep  depression,  called 
a  caldera,  enclosed  by  ring-like  walls.  For  example,  in 
Italy  several  such  calderas  contain  lakes  of  roughly  cir- 
cular outline.  Similar  basins  occur  on  the  Azores,  in 
Sumatra,  and  elsewhere;  but  by  far  the  greater  number 
of  terrestrial  volcanoes  are  of  the  large-cone  and  small- 
crater  variety.  Hence  if  the  ring  mountains  011  the  moon 
are  of  volcanic  origin,  they  represent  a  phase  of  volcanic 
activity  that  is  exceptional,  and  not  prevalent  on  the 
earth. 

Furthermore,  an  ingenious  suggestion  has  been  offered 
that  the  lunar  calderas  are  really  the  scars  made  where 
great  meteors  fell  on  the  moon,  and  that  the  rings  around 
the  calderas  were  squeezed  up  around  the  places  of  im- 
pact. Fanciful  as  this  theory  at  first  appears,  it  really  is 
worthy  of  consideration;  and  when  treated  mathemat- 
ically, it  is  not  found  to  be  outside  of  reasonable  possi- 
bility, as  far  as  the  moon  is  concerned. 

However  all  this  may  be,  the  rings  and  craters  and 
plains  of  the  moon  offer  a  most  entertaining  field  for 
study.  See  the  great  number  of  them  in  this  view  of  the 
half-moon.  The  semicircular  limb  turns  toward  the  sun, 
as  we  see  it  shortly  after  sunset  at  the  time  of  first  quar- 
ter. Notice  the  darker  areas,  two  to  four  hundred  miles 
in  diameter.  They  are  visible  to  the  naked  eye,  and  form 
the  familiar  features  of  the  "man  in  the  moon."  They 
were  called  "seas"  by  the  older  astronomers,  and  still 
bear  the  name,  although  it  is  now  known  that  they  con- 
tain no  water,  and  show  no  signs  of  ever  having  been 
seas.  Taking  directions  as  we  should  011  an  ordinary 
terrestrial  map,  we  see  near  the  eastern  limb  the  Mare 
Crisiurn,  well  known  from  being  visible  in  the  slender 
crescent  of  the  new  moon.  A  little  to  the  south  of  Cri- 
sium  lies  the  Mare  Fecunditatis;  and  northwest  of  this- 
follow  the  Mare  Tranquilitatis  and  the  Mare  Serenitatis. 
In  the  latter,  a  minute  crater,  Linne,  has  been  suspected 
of  showing  slight  change  during  this  half-century.  West 
of  the  last-named  sea  is  the  Mare  Imbrium,  only  its 
eastern  part,  sometimes  called  the  Palus  Nebularum,  be- 
ing seen  here.  It  contains  three  important  craters:  Ar 
chimedes,  fifty  miles  in  diameter,  near  the  shadow-edge 
or  "  terminator,"  in  the  view  here  given  ;  Autolycus  (23), 
and  Aristillus  (34)  a  little  further  east.  Further  north, 
a  little  white  spot  is  Pico,  a  curious  isolated  peak  of 
unusual  form.  The  Mare  Imbrium  is  enclosed  by  the 
Apennines  on  the  southeast,  by  the  Alps  on  the  north-  . 
east,  and  the  Caucasus  lie  near  its  eastern  border.  These 
are  more  like  terrestrial  mountain-ranges  than  is  gener- 
ally the  case  with  lunar  mountains;  but  they  are  dif- 


JANUARY  22,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


213 


PTOLEMY,    ALPHONStTS,  AND    ARZACHEL. 

ferent  in  having  no  valley  systems,  and,  moreover,  here 
and  there  their  surface  is  pitted  by  a  characteristic  crater. 
The  Mare  Vaporum  lies  south  of  the  Apennines;  and 
then,  passing  into  the  southern  hemisphere,  we  enter  a 
region  crowded  with  craters.  First  come  three  large 
rings  in  a  ro\v,  the  most  northern  being  Ptolemy  (115); 
with  Herschel  (*4),  a  smaller  and  deeper  pit,  next  north 
of  it;  then  Alphonsus  (83),  and  Arzachel.(65),  with  a  well- 
marked  central  peak,  to  the  south.  Further  south  the  cra- 
ters are  too  numerous  to  be  named  here.  Little  craters 
are  often  found  sunk  into  the  rings  of  larger  and  earlier 
craters;  thus  their  succession  of  formation  can  be  made 
out.  Just  as  we  call  the  study  of  the  earth's  surface 
Geography,  so  the  study  of  the  moon's  surface  is  called 
Selenography;  words  of  this  kind  still  bearing 
in  these  modern  times  the  impress  of  the  old 
Greeks,  whom  we  follow  in  so  many  ways. 

There  is  one  very  curious  thing  about  the 
movement  of  the  moon.  Although  it  goes  around 
us  once  a  month  —  or  moonth,  as  I  like  to  call  it 
— we  see  only  one  side  of  it.  The  other  side  is  en- 
tirely unknown,  as  it  is  always  turned  away  from 
the  earth.  Some  persons  argue  from  this  that 
the  moon  does  not  rotate  on  its  axis;  but  such 
an  opinion  implies  a  wrong  understanding  of  ro- 
tation. Rotation  consists  in  turning  so  as  to  face 
in  every  direction  successively  all  around  the 
compass.  The  moon  certainly  has  this  motion, 
for  during  the  period  of  a  moonth,  while  it  is 
moving  around  the  earth,  it  turns  its  visible  side 
toward  us  from  all  directions. 

The  curious  point  here  involved  is  not  that  the 
moon  does  not  rotate,  but  that  it  rotates  on  its 
axis  in  the  same  period  as  it  revolves  around  the 
earth. 

The  real  interest  in  this  matter  of  rotation  is: 
Why  do  the  periods  of  rotation  and  revolution 
agree?  Believing  that  the  existing  arrangement 
of  the  solar  system  follows  by  slow  changes  from 
former  conditions,  no  one  can  suppose  that  the 
agreement  is  accidental.  It  must  mean  that  the  two 
movements  have  been  brought  into  coincidence  of 
period  by  some  physical  process,  and  this  is  beau- 


tifully accounted  for  by  the  tidal  interaction  of  the  earth 
and  moon. 

Just  as  the  moon  causes  tide-making  forces  in  the  earth, 
so  the  earth,  a  larger  body,  causes  much  stronger  tide- 
making  forces  in  the  moon.  Ages  ago,  when  both  bodies 
were  hotter  than  now,  and  more  yielding  to  tidal  forces, 
it  is  believed  that  tides  were  produced  not  only  in  what- 
ever oceans  the  bodies  may  have  then  had,  but  also  in 
their  whole  mass.  On  account  of  these  ancient  bodily 
tides  each  body  tried  to  reduce  the  period  of  rotation  of 
the  other  one  to  equality  with  the  period  of  the  revolu- 
tion around  their  common  centre  of  gravity.  The  moon 
is  so  small  as  to  have  been  unsuccessful  in  this  attempt, 
and  the  earth  still  rotates  in  much  less  time  than  a 
moonth;  but  the  earth  has  succeeded  completely,  and  the 
moon's  day  and  month  now  agree  perfectly.  This  is 
all  of  the  tidal  story  that  can  be  told  here. 

Lunar  eclipses  can  only  occur  at  time  of  full  moon, 
because  only  then  is  the  moon  opposite  the  sun,  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  earth's  long  conical  shadow.  But 
as  the  moon  sometimes  passes  north,  sometimes  south,  of 
the  shadow,  there  is  not  a  lunar  eclipse  every  month. 
On  the  other  hand,  at  times  of  new  moon  the  moon's 
shadow,  that  is  always  trailing  opposite  to  the  sun,  some- 
times falls  on  the  earth;  then  those  of  us  who  happen  to 
live  on  the  path  of  the  shadow  have  an  eclipse  of  the 
sun,  and  a  total  eclipse  of  the  sun  is  one  of  the  strangest 
events  in  the  world.  The  moon's  shadow  is  so  small  that 
it  covers  but  a  little  of  the  earth's  surface;  hence  total 
eclipses  happen  but  rarely  at  any  one  place.  The  shadow 
moves  rapidly  across  the  earth's  face;  hence  the  duration 
of  a  solar  eclipse  is  brief  as  seen  by  any  one  observer. 
The  entire  hiding  of  the  sun  seldom  lasts  more  than  two 
minutes.  Even  in  a  clear  sky  a  pall  of  darkness  then 
spreads  over  the  landscape.  Birds  and  animals  mistake 
it  for  the  coming  of  night.  Savages  and  ignorant  people 
are  frightened  by  the  unnatural  occurrence,  and  think  it 
forebodes  the  coining  of  misfortunes.  Enlightened  peo- 
ple, knowing  beforehand  that  an  eclipse  is  coming  at  a 
certain  time  and  place,  watch  for  it  with  the  greatest 
interest,  and  on  finding  that  it  happens  within  a  few 
seconds  of  the  predicted  time,  delight  in  it  as  a  proof  of 
the  marvellous  power  of  man's  intellect,  through  which 
the  order  of  nature  is  so  wonderfully  revealed. 


LUNAR    APENNINES,  WITH    ERATOSTHENES    AT   WEST   END,  AND    ARCHIMEDES, 
ACTOLTtTS,  AND    ARISTII.LCS    TO    THE    NORTH. 


"SCAPEGRACE. 


BY     CAPTAIN     CHARLES     KING,    U.S.A. 


rilHERE  was  one  boy  at  Fort  Ransom  who  wished  there 
J_  were  no  such  tilings  as  women  in  the  world,  and  that 
was  Captain  Grace's  ten  year  old  Tommy.  There  weren't 
very  many  of  them  in  Tommy's  own  world,  to  be  sure, 
and  that  had  something  to  do  with  so  many  from  with- 
out "coming  in  and  interfering  with  a  feller,"  as  he  ex- 
pressed it.  We  all  know  the  old  adage,  "What  is  every- 
body's business  is  nobody's  business,"  but  Tommy — on 
the  principle  probably  that  it  was  a  poor  rule  that  wouldn't 
work  both  ways— had  long  since  made  up  his  mind  that 
people  read  the  thing  t'other  side  foremost,  and,  so  far  as 
he  was  concerned,  what  was  really  nobody's  business* 
seemed  everybody's  business.  It  was  nobody's  business, 
for  instance,  that  he  should  like  to  wear  a  little  beaded 
buck  skin  shirt  that  h  is  father  had  had  made  for  him  among 
the  Sioux  Indians,  but  the  mothers  of  other  boys  in  the 
garrison,  boys  who  hadn't  a  Sioux  hunting  shirt,  used  to 
come  to  Captain  Grace,  or  to  Aunt  'Ria,  and  protest  against 
his  being  allowed  to  run  wild  in  such  heathenish  gar- 
ments. It  was  nobody's  business,  thought  Tommy,  that 
he  should  prefer  to  spend  his  holidays  four  miles  away 
from  the  fort,  among  the  railway  men  at  the  round-house, 
where  all  the  locomotives  of  the  division  were  in  turn 
"  stabled  "  and  oiled  and  cleaned  and  fired  ;  but  other  boys 
were  not  allowed  to  go,  and,  boylike,  upbraided  their 
mothers,  who  accordingly  upbraided  Aunt  'Ria.  It  was 
nobody's  business  that  his  father  gave  Tommy  for  his 
own  purposes  the  stupendous  sum  of  twenty-five  cents  a 
week  for  spending-money,  stipulating  only  one  thing — 
that  not  a  cent  should  ever  go  for  cigarettes;  but  there 
were  many  good  and  devout  women  at  the  fort  who  de- 
clared to  Aunt 'Ria  that  this  was  simply  throwing  money 
away,  and  snaring  the  youngster's  path  witli  temptation. 
"No  boy  of  mine,"  said  more  than  one  mamma,  "shall 
ever  be  allowed  to  carry  about  him  the  means  of  indul- 
ging vicious  tastes."  And  no  one  was  more  decided  on 
this  point  than  the  chaplain's  good  wife,  whose  own  boy 
had  been  the  means  of  making  Tommy  acquainted  with 
cigarettes  the  year  before.  In  fact,  it  was  because  of  his 
refusal  to  contribute  more  than  one-fifth  of  his  weekly 
allowance  to  the  fund  for  the  Sunday-school  Christmas 
Tree  that  had  led  the  lady  superintendent  to  refer  to  him 
as  Scape  Grace,  instead  of  Tommy.  "Give  a  dog  a  bad 
name,"  says  the  adage,  and  with  a  dog  so  with  a  boy. 
Fort  Ransom  took  up  the  name  with  a  zest  which  was 
born  of  a  propensity  for  teasing  rather  than  any  spirit  of 
unkindness,  but  it  stuck,  as  often  will  the  most  unde- 
served of  names  or  reputations,  and  Tommy  Grace, 
through  no  real  fault  of  his  own,  became  the  scapegrace 
of  the  big  garrison. 

It  was  anything  but  fair  to  the  little  fellow.  He  was 
just  as  square  and  honest  and  well  meaning  a  boy  as  there 
was  in  the  whole  community.  Ransom  was  quite  a  large 
post,  far  out  across  the  wide  wind-swept  prairies  of  the 
West,  and  near  the  bustling  railway  town  of  Butteville — 
generally  named  Butte  for  short.  Here  were  stationed 
during  the  year  gone  by  the  headquarters  and  eight  com- 
panies of  a  regiment  of  "regular"  infantry,  and  one  of 
these  companies  was  commanded  by  Captain  Grace. 
Tommy's  lot  might  have  been  a  very  different  one  but 
for  a  fact  you  have  probably  already  surmised — that  he 
had  lost  his  mother.  Five  years  before,  when  he  was  a 
little  bit  of  a  chap,  a  severe  and  sudden  illness  had  swept 
her  from  their  sight  almost  before  they  could  realize  that 
she  was  in  danger.  Tommy  was  too  young  to  know 
what  he  had  lost,  but  the  blow  was  a  bitter  one  to  his 
soldier  father.  Not  for  long  months  did  he  return  to  the 
regiment  after  taking  her  to  her  far-away  Eastern  home 
for  burial,  and  when  he  did  the  Captain  brought  with  him 


his  sister,  a  maiden  lady  of  nearly  his  own  age,  the  only- 
thing  in  the  world  he  could  think  of  as  a  partial  substi- 
tute for  Tommy's  mother. 

Aunt  'Ria  had  no  experience  in  taking  care  of  children, 
but  she  had  all  manner  of  theories  as  to  how  they  should 
be  reared  and  managed.  As  a  result  poor  Tommy's  early 
boyhood  proved  to  be  a  period  of  curiously  varying  ex- 
periments. What  was  right  and  proper  for  him  to  do  .one 
month  was  all  wrong  the  next,  and  by  the  time  he  was 
ten  years  old  his  ideas  of  boy  rights  and  wrongs  might 
have  become  hopelessly  confused  but  for  his  own  pro- 
pensity for  taking  the  bit  in  his  teeth,  aiid  bolting  for  ad- 
vice and  comfort  to  his  father  himself. 

"  Never  mind  what  the  trouble  is,  Tommy — never  mind 
whether  the  fault  is  yours  or  somebody  else's — never  be 
afraid  to  come  and  tell  nie  the  whole  story  just  as 
'  straight'  as  you  know  how.  Let  me  be  your  best  friend, 
and  I'll  do  my  best;  only  remember,  Tom,  'the  truth, 
the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth.'  I  don't  care 
what  mischief  you  can  get  into  or  wrong  you  can  do  so 
long'  as  you  tell  me  all  about  it.  Concealment  is  what  I 
should  fear  most." 

"Poor  little  chap  I"  he  said  to  himself,  "lie  has  no 
mother  to  go  to  and  sob  out  his  troubles.  Boys  hate  to 
cry  before  their  fathers,  especially  soldier  boys.  I  can't 
be  his  playmate,  for  boys  must  have  boys  for  that,  but  I 
can  be  his  friend,  please  God!  and  teach  him  to  trust  me 
and  confide  in  me,  and  if  he  does  get  into  scrapes  they 
can't  be  any  worse  than  mine  were." 

And  so,  despite  his  name,  Tommy  wasn't  particularly 
miserable  except  when  Aunt  'Ria  was  lecturing,  or  "  those 
other  women  "  were  telling  him  about  what  he  should  be 
or  shouldn't  be  doing,  "if  you  were  my  boy."  Captain 
Grace  had  taught  him  to  stand  respectfully  and  listen  to 
it  all  in  silence,  *  just  as  I  do,  Tommy,  when  the  Colonel 
finds  fault  with  something  in  Company  B,  or  when  I'm 
officer  of  the  day." 

"But  lie  has  a  right  to,"  blurted  Tommy;  "he's  com- 
manding officer.  Now  Mrs.  Croly  and  Mrs.  Wilson  and 
Mrs.  Darling,  they  haven't  any  business  telling  Aunt 
'Ria  or  me  I  shouldn't  do  this  or  that  so  long  as  you  ap- 
prove." 

"  Never  mind.  Tommy.  Every  woman  thinks  she  has," 
said  the  philosophic  Captain.  "  It  does  them  good.  It 
does  you  no  harm,  and  we  have  lots  of  fun  over  it  between 
ourselves.  So  never  be  rude  or  disrespectful." 

The  Division  Superintendent  at  Butte  was  a  man  just 
the  age  of  Captain  Grace,  and  from  early  boyhood  the 
two  had  been  close  friends.  Even  after  their  separation, 
when  young  Grace  was  sent  to  W7est  Point,  they  had 
kept  up  their  correspondence,  and  great  was  the  Captain's 
•pleasure  when  the  regiment  was  ordered  down  "out  of 
the  Sioux  country  "  and  stationed  at  Ransom,  mainly  be- 
cause it  brought  him  once  more  into  close  relations  with 
George  Rollins,  his  old-time  school  chum  and  his  life- 
long friend. 

Promotion  in  railroading  is  almost  as  slow  as  it  is  in 
the  army,  and  Mr.  Rollins  at  forty  was  only  a  Divis- 
ion Superintendent,  but  every  one  connected  with  "  the 
road  "  was  well  aware  that  better  things  were  in  store  for 
him.  '  Rollins  was  still  a  bachelor,  and  he  took  instantly 
to  Master  Tommy,  and  for  a  whole  year  that  little  man 
had  been  learning  all  the  mysteries  of  the  round-house, 
the  shops,  the  train -despatcher's  office,  and  "the  road" 
generally,  for  while  on  Saturdays,  and  even,  it  must  be 
owned,  on  occasional  Sunday  afternoons,  the  Captain  and 
his  old  friend  were  chatting  together  over  old  times. 
Master  Tommy,  perched  in  the  cab  of  the  switch  engine 
under  care  of  "Mike"  Farrell,  the  engineer,  was  steam- 


JANUARY  22,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


215 


ing  up  and  down  the  yards,  darting  from  track  to  track, 
shunting  cars  from  shop  to  station,  from  storehouse  to 
elevator,  making  up  trains  and  pulling  them  hither  and 
yon,  and  all  the  time  his  eyes  and  ears  were  wide  open, 
and  he  was  practically  hent  on  "learning  the  business." 
Farrell  taught  him  the  purpose  and  use  of  every  lever, 
rod,  stop-cock,  and  gauge  about  the  engine;  let  him  ring 
the  bell,  whistle  for  brakes  or  switches;  even,  after  a 
while,  to  stand  on  the  engineer's,  instead  of  the  fireman's 
bench  at  the  side  of  the  cab,  and  with  Farrell's  brawny 
hairy  fist  to  guide,  to  seize  the  throttle-valve  with  his 
own  boy  hand  and  start  the  engine,  increase  the  steam, 
and  shut  it  off.  He  learned  how  to  make  a  "gentle" 
start  without  jerk  or  strain;  he  learned  how  to  reverse 
and  "  back,"  although  lie  had  not  strength  enough  to 
throw  the  great  geared  lever  that  Farrell  handled  so 
easily.  He  learned  all  the  science  of  "  firing,"  so  far  as 
it  could  be  taught  on  a  switch  engine,  and  later  Mr. 
Rollins  handed  him  over  to  the  engineer  of  the  great 
transcontinental  express  trains,  and  big  Ned  Weston,  who 
ran  No.  615,  the  biggest  and  most  powerful  passenger 
locomotive  on  the  mountain  division,  took  him  on  his 
Saturdays  as  far  west  as  Summit  Siding,  away  up  at  the 
top  of  the  range,  and  there  presented  him  to  "Hank" 
Lee,  whose  engine,  No.  525,  made  the  daily  down-grade 
run  with  the  East-bound  mail — a  light,  swift  train — from 
Summit  to  Butte  in  forty-seven  minutes.  That  was  a 
glorious  run,  and  Tommy  loved  to  tell  of  it;  so  much  M>. 
that  other  boys,  and  lots  of  them,  grew  tired  or  envious, 
or  both;  and  even  while  secretly  wishing  that  they  knew 
the  Division  Superintendent,  and  that  he  would  give 
them  "the  run  of  the  road"  as  he  did  Tommy  Grace, 
they  feigned  to  scorn  the  whole  business,  and  to  ridicule 
Tommy's  railway  friends,  and  sneer  at  his  aims  and  aspi- 
rations— for  Tommy  had  long  since  decided  lie  did  not 
mean  to  be  a  soldier,  he  was  going  to  be  a  locomotive 
engineer. 

"  If  I  were  Scapegrace,"  said  one  of  his  best  friends 
among  the  boys,  "I'd  shake  books  entirely  and  stick  to 
the  round-house;  he's  learned  that  lesson  anyhow." 

"If  I  were  Captain  Grace,"  said  the  schoolmaster,  "  I 
should  require  Thomas  to  spend  his  Saturdays  studying 
what  he  has  missed  during  the  week,  instead  of  wasting 
time  among  those  railway  hands." 

"And  if  I  had  any  influence  with  Captain  Grace — or 
if  Miss  Grace  had,  either — something  would  be  done  to 
redeem  that  poor  little  fellow,"  said  more  than  one  of  the 
army  mothers  at  Ransom.  "Think  of  the  danger  he  is 
running." 

But  Captain  Grace  was  deaf  to  protests  of  this  nature. 
He  listened  to  what  was  said  with  his  quiet  smile,  spent 
his  hour  with  Tommy  every  evening  over  the  slate  and 
books,  satisfied  himself  that  what  he  did  know  the  boy 
knew  thoroughly  and  well,  and  almost  every  Saturday 
rode  into  Butte  with  him,  and  was  there  to  meet  him 
when  No.  4  (the  mail  train)  came  clanging  into  the 
station  late  in  the  afternoon,  Tommy's  cinder-streaked, 
chubby,  happy  face  smiling  at  him  from  the  cab. 

"  That  boy's  going  to  be  a  boss  engineer  one  of  these 
days,  Captain,"  said  Mr.  Lee  one  lovely  May  evening. 
"I  shouldn't  wonder  if  Mr.  Rollins  would  have  to  start 
him  as  a  fireman  before  he's  fourteen.  The  road  '11  be 
glad  to  get  a  boy  as  bright  as  Tommy.  He  can  handle 
this  old  lady  now  most  as  well  as  my  fireman  here," 
and  Hank  patted  affectionately  the  massive  steel  con- 
necting rod  of  his  "driving  wheels." 

But  neither  engineer,  nor  Captain,  nor  Tommy  dreamed 
how  soon,  how  very  soon  "the  road  "  and  all  Fort  Ran- 
som would  devoutly  thank  Heaven  that  Scapegrace  had 
learned  railroading  better  than  he  had  arithmetic. 

Leaving  only  a  small  detachment  to  guard  the  fort, 
Colonel  Wallace  with  the  regiment,  early  in  June, 
had  marched  awav  westward  from  Ransom,  had  crossed 


the  mountain  range,  and  had  joined  a  force  of  infantry 
and  cavalry  massed  in  the  V&lley  of  the  Beaver,  ninety 
miles  away.  There  they  were  to  spend  two  months  in 
manosuvres  under  command  of  a  general  officer,  and 
there,  right  after  the  Fourth  of  July,  some  of  the  boys 
were  to  join  their  fathers  in  camp — Tommy  among  them. 

But  late  in  June  came  tidings  of  serious  troubles 
among  the  railway  men  at  the  East;  then  that  a  general 
strike  was  threatened,  and  all  of  a  sudden  some  mysteri- 
ous order  was  Hashed  along  the  wires  even  to  Butte  and 
beyond,  and  that  day  not  another  wheel  turned  on  the 
mountain  division.  In  vain  Mr.  Rollins  argued  and 
plead  with  his  men.  They  honored  him— they  had  no 
"grievance"  with  their  employers — but  one  and  all  they 
were  members  of  some  one  of  the  several  railway  men's 
"  Unions, "  sworn  to  obey  the  orders  of  their  respective 
chiefs,  even  against  those  of  their  foremen  or  superinten- 
dents, and  the  firemen,  switchmen,  and  certain  trainmen 
had  received  the  signal  to  strike,  and  though  in  almost 
every  case  it  was  done  with  misgiving  and  reluctance, 
strike  they  did. 

Then  the  engineers  tried  to  run  their  engines  with  new 
hands  for  firemen,  even  in  some  cases  tried  to  "  fire"  for 
themselves.  Then  committees  came  and  warned  the  new- 
comers off,  and  such  as  would  not  obey  were  promptly 
pulled  off  and  kicked  out  of  the  yards.  The  next  who 
tried  were  stoned  and  beaten.  Then  deputy  marshals 
came  to  protect  the  newly  employed,  and  then  came  riot. 
It  was  bad  enough  at  Butte,  where  the  station  and  yards 
were  in  the  hands  of  railwaymen  alone,  but  it  was  in- 
finitely worse  in  great  cities  to  the  East,  where  all  the 
criminal  classes,  the  mass  of  tramps,  loafers,  and  vaga- 
bonds promptly  turned  out,  and  the  next  thing  known  at 
Ransom  a  million  dollars' worth  of  railway  .property  was 
being  burned  and  destroyed;  the  police  and  the  sheriffs 
were  beaten,  and  the  President  had  ordered  the  "  regu- 
lars" to  the  scene. 

Never  will  the  boys  of  Fort  Ransom  forget  the  evening 
of  the  2d  of  July,  when  the  despatch  was  received  that 
Colonel  Wallace  with  his  eight  companies  was  on  a  spe- 
cial train,  had  started  from  Beaver  Station,  and  would 
pass  through  Butte,  eastward  bound,  at  ten  o'clock  that 
very  night  if  uothinij  interfered.  There  was  a  military 
telegraph  line  running  from  Ransom  through  Bear's  Paw 
Gap,  miles  north  of  the  railway,  and  so  on  through  the 
mountains  to  the  outlying  forts  in  the  Beaver  Valley. 
That,  as  yet  at  least,  the  strikers  had  not  cut,  but,  all  too 
soon,  they  learned,  through  friends  and  sympathizers 
among  the  railway  telegraphers,  that  Mr.  Rollins  had 
been  able  to  make  up  a  train  ;  and  with  old  No.  615  in 
the  lead,  big  Ned  Weston  at  the  throttle-valve,  two  of 
Uncle  Sam's  bluecoats  for  firemen,  and  Captain  Grace 
with  six  of  his  men  to  back  Mr.  Rollins  on  the  engine 
and  tender,  and  with  the  whole  train  bristling  with  bay- 
onets, Colonel  Wallace  and  his  regiment  were  coming  for 
all  they  were  worth,  bound  to  carry  out  their  orders  if 
they  had  to  cut  their  way  through  Butte. 

It  was  the  schoolmaster  himself  who  came  driving  out 
to  the  fort,  and  driving  the  women  and  children  wild  with 
fear  and  excitement  with  the  next  news — that  the  strikers 
had  armed  themselves,  and  that,  with  the  hangers-on  and 
the  unemployed  about  the  town  and  the  great  array  from 
the  repair-shops,  a  thousand  determined  men  had  gather- 
ed, and  meant  to  assault  the  troop  train — "if,  indeed," 
said  he,  "  it  ever  gets  as  far  as  Butte.  If  a  possible  thing, 
wire  to  Summit  siding  and  warn  them."  And  wire  the 
quartermaster  did,  only  to  get  reply:  "  Too  late.  Troop 
train  passed  through  at  nine  o'clock.  Should  be  at  Butte 
now." 

"  Oh,  if  we  only  had  Scapegrace  with  us  now  !"  was  the 
wail  of  one  poor  wife  and  mother.  "  Is  there  no  way  of 
warning?  He  knew  every  bit  of  the  track  to  the  west. 
He  should  have  ridden  out  and  done  something."  All 


216 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


HE  FALTERED  AT  THE  BRINK  AND  THEN  PLUNGED  IN. 

the  other  boys  were  safe  at  home  within  the  fort  gates, 
but  not  since  evening  gun-fire  had  Tommy  been  seen. 
"He  took  his  pony,  ma'am,  and  galloped  away  to  Butte 
like  mad  just  before  sundown,"  was  all  Lhe  quartermaster- 
sergeant  could  tell  Aunt  'Ria,  before  he  himself  mounted 
and  rode  away  after  the  quartermaster  in  the  vain  hope 
that  it  might  not  yet  be  too  late  to  "do  something." 

Down  in  the  bottom  of  his  heart  the  quartermaster  had 
no  dread  of  any  serious  trouble  once  the  troop  train  got 
to  Butte.  Old  Wallace  knew  well  how  to  handle  mobs, 
big  or  little;  but  that  long  stretch  of  lonely  unprotected 
track  through  the  foot-hills  to  the  west,  that  wooden 
trestle,  that  Howe  truss  bridge  over  Four-mile  Creek,  sup- 
pose the  strikers  were  to  get  there  first,  and  wreck  them 
in  front  of  that  heavy  train  thundering  down  grade. 
There,  was  the  rub ! 

And  Scapegrace  had  not  had  his  eyes  and  ears  open 
for  six  long  months  for  nothing.  No  sooner  had  he  heard 
the  talk  at.  Ransom  of  how  a  special  train  was  to  come  on 
and  break  the  blockade  than  he  bethought  him  of  stories 
lie  had  heard  in  cab  and  caboose, in  switchman's  shanty  and 
carsmith's  shop,  and  never  did  that  piebald  pony  split  the 
wind  as  he  did  on  Tommy's  dash  for  town.  Leaving  him 
panting  and  astonished  at  the  corral,  his  little  master,  well- 
nigh  breathless  himself,  made  his  rapid  way  to  the  depot. 
The  platforms  were  crowded  with  rough,  sullen,  angry 
men.  Somebody  was  making  a  speech,  and  urging  the 
crowd  to  stand  together  now, and  sweep  the  bloody-handed 
soldiers  from  the  face  of  the  earth  if  ever  they  strove  to 
pass  the  spot;  and  then  some  frantic,  half-drunken  fellow 
shrieked,  "They'll  never  see  this  side  of  Four-mile  Run  !'' 
And  Tommy,  wild  with  anxiety,  sought  in  vain  for  some 
familiar,  friendly  face,  for  some  one  to  tell  what  had 
been,  done  or  advise  what  he  should  do.  All  in  vain. 


Engineers  had  been,  driven  from  the  yards  and  forbidden 
to  return.  The  striking  firemen,  appalled  most  of  them 
by  the  proportions  assumed  by  the  riot,  seemed  to  have 
slunk  away.  These  wild,  riotous,  half  -  drunken  men 
were  total  strangers.  Perhaps  it  was  lucky  that  they 
knew  him  no  better  than  he  knew  them,  or  he  might  not 
have  slipped,  trembling  away,  as  he  was  enabled  to  a  mo- 
ment later,  his  boy  heart  fluttering  up  into  his  throat,  for 
the  fearful  words  he  heard  had  stricken  him  with  terror. 

"I  tell  you  'twarn't  no  use  to  burn  the  bridge  ahead  of 
'em.  They'd  only  ford  the  creek,  march  into  town,  and 
make  up  a  train  here,  an'  we  hadn't  the  men  to  stop  'em. 
There  was  only  just  one  thing  to  do — to  set  them  switch 
signals  'All  right,  come  ahead,' and  wreck  the  whole 
outfit  as  it  reached  the  bridge." 

Ten  minutes  later,  his  young  heart  bounding  like  his 
pony's  hoofs,  Scapegrace  was  galloping  westward  over 
the  broad  prairie,  leaving  Butte  a  mile  behind,  and  Ran- 
som farther  still  beyond.  Already  darkness  wTas  settling 
over  the  foot-hills  of  the  range;  already  lights  were  pop- 
ping up  here  and  there  from  outlying  ranch  or  farm- 
house. Behind  him  the  electric  globes  were  gleaming  h  igh 
over  the  bustling  town,  but  Tommy  had  no  time  to  look 
back.  Half  a  mile  to  the  southward  he  could  see  dim 
lights,  like  will-o'-the-wisps,  dancing  along  what  he  knew 
to  be  the  railway  embankment,  and  ahead  of  him,  dark, 
gloomy,  vague,  and  silent,  lay  the  broad  valley  through 
which  turned  and  twisted  the  stream.  A  roaring  moun- 
tain torrent  at  times,  it  was  only  "bank  full"  now. 
There  was  a  low  wooden  bridge  two  hundred  yards  north 
of  the  railway  trestle;  there  was  a  good  ford  quarter  of  a 
mile  above  that,  but  if  by  any  chance  these  were  guarded 
by  the  strikers  —  and  Tom  had  heard  how  they  held 
them  long  years  before  in  the  great  railway  strike 
of  '77 —  then  he  and  Dot  would  either  have  to  push  a 
full  mile  further  up  stream  or  find  some  unguarded  point 
and  swim  for  it.  In  his  right  hand  he  carried  a  lantern 
borrowed  at  the  corral — taken,  rather,  without  a  by-your- 
leave  to  anybody — for  only  a  Mexican  packer  was  there 
as  he  unhitched  his  pony.  In  his  pocket  were  his  matches, 
and  on  his  lips  a  prayer  for  aid  and  guidance  and  protec- 
tion. Beyond  all  doubt  those  twinkling  lights  far  to  the 
left  and  front  meant  that  the  strikers  were  already  at  the 
trestle  and  the  truss.  Beyond  all  doubt  the  only  thing 
for  him  to  do  was  to  pass  around  them  to  the  north,  and 
speed  far  and  fast  up  the  winding  ravines  among  the  foot- 
hills until — a  sure,  safe  distance  beyond  all  chance  of  in- 
terference— he  could  light  his  lantern  when  the  great 
blazing  eye  of  No.  615  came  peering  forth  from  the  black 
mouth  of  the  tunnel,  and  then  he  would  leap  on  the  track 
and  signal  stop. 

Not  three  miles  from  town,  and  already  Dot  was  pant- 
ing and  protesting.  Not  yet  quarter  past  nine,  but  black 
darkness  was  settling  down  over  distant  peak  and  neigh- 
boring prairie.  One  mile  further  and  he  would  reach 
the  bridge,  but  long  before  coming  to  the  stream  he  must 
pull  up  and  go  cautiously  and  listen.  How  dreadfully 
near  those  dim  wicked  lights  looked  at  the  southwest — 
away  down  in  the  lowlands!  Something  told  him  what 
that  meant.  All  that  ground  wasoverflowed  in  the  spring. 
The  truss  bridge  and  the  trestle  carried  the  track  along 
full  twenty  feet  above  the  July  level  of  the  stream,  and, 
just  as  those  villains  said  at  the  depot,  these  villains  out 
here  were  sawing  slanting  cuts  through  the  sturdy  beams 
— the  uprights  of  the  trestle — and  the  weight  of  the  mass- 
ive engine  would  do  the  rest.  On,  Dot! — on!  Even 
now  old  615  must  be  roaring  through  the  rock  cuts  east 
of  Summit.  Tommy  could  even  seem  to  see  his  friend 
the  engineer  standing  there  with  firm-set  face  staring 
straight  ahead  through  the  cab  window,  his  right  hand 
on  the  reversing-lever,  his  left  on  the  air-brake  cock,  the 
throttle- valve  shut  tight,  and  not  an  ounce  of  steam  on, 
for  with  smoking  wheels  the  great  train  was  shooting 


JANUARY  22,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


217 


curve  after  curve  down  the  east  face  of  the  grand  moun- 
tain spur,  held  back  from  headlong  rush  to  destruction 
only  by  the  grip  of  the  brakes  011  the  polished  steel  of  the 
tires.  And  soon  they  would  plunge  into  the  tunnel 
through  Ute  Tower,  and  then  come  sweeping  forth  in  long 
graceful  curve  around  Red  Bluffs,  and  then,  then  Neil's 
left  would  shift  from  air-brake  to  throttle,  and  one  would 
close  and  the  other  open,  and  615  would  begin  again  to 
throb  and  puff  and  pant,  and,  with  unhampered  wheels. 
the  long  train  would  leap  to  the  race  once  more,  with 
Four  Mile  Creek  and  switch  and  siding,  and  beyond  them 
the  big  truss  and  trestle  only  two  level  miles  ahead. 

Heavens!  Here  was  Four  Mile  Creek  now,  foaming 
along  almost  parallel  with  his  road,  and  there,  not  two 
hundred  yards  ahead,  lay  the  low  uncovered  wooden 
bridge  over  which  he  must  pass  unseen,  or  else  ford  or 
swim.  Many  a  time,  with  exultant  heart,  high  aloft,  had 
he  gone  skimming  over  that  dimly  outlined  trestle  and 
under  that  net  work  of  beams  and  stringers  just  visible 
against  the  southern  stars.  Many  a  lime  had  he  and  Dot 
ridden  over  the  humble  crossing  that  seemed  to  span  only 
from  rock  to  rock — a  fragile  bridge  that,  was  swept  away 
every  spring,  only  to  be  gathered  up  and  put  together  by 
the  ranchmen  every  June,  but  011  the  trestle  twinkled 
wreckers' lights.  On  the  low  bridge  ahead  gleamed  a 
lantern  that  told  him  the  enemy  was  there.  1  >ot,  almost 
slid  ui)on  his  haunches  in  astonishment  at  the  sudden 
check,  and  then  whirled  madly  about  in  ansuer  to  his 
rider's  driving  heel  and  tugging  rein.  Springing  up  |Y,,ni 
the  roadside  a  few  yards  ahead  a  dark  form  loomed  sud- 
denly into  sight,  and  a  hoarse  voice  shouted,  "  Who's 
that  ?" 

But  Scapegrace  never  stopped  to  answer.  With  his 
head  turned  homewards  Dot  took  new  heart,  and  lieu- 
back  alon^  the  lonely  road  full  three  hundred  yards  be- 
fore he  felt  the  pressure  of  leg  and  rein  that  turned  him 
northward.  Indignantly  he  shook  his  mane,  but  obedi- 
ently sped  away.  Over  the  springy  bunch-grass  he  was 


laboring  now,  panting  hard,  and  wondering  what  on 
earth  could  make  his  little  master  so  unmerciful,  and 
presently  there  were  sounds  as  of  distant  shouting,  at 
which  Tommy  urged  the  more,  and  bent  low  over  the  pom- 
mel, and  then  Dot  found  himself  circling  westward  again, 
but  far  above  the  point  where  first  they  reached  the  hank 
of  the  stream,  and  soon  he  heard  it  roaring  over  its  rocky 
bed  and  straight  ahead  of  them.  Another  moment  and 
he  would  have  swerved,  for  here  they  were  upon  the 
very  verge,  but  both  Tommy's  heels  came  driving  hard 
against  his  astonished  ribs,  and  Tommy's  knees  were 
gripping  him  like  a  living  vise.  One  instant  he  faltered 
at  the  brink  and  then  plunged  helplessly  in,  yielding  to 
the  master  hand  and  will.  "On,  Dot! — on!"  was  Tom- 
my's constant  cry.  And  so,  stumbling,  plunging,  going 
down  once  on  his  knees,  and  burying  his  nose  deep  in  the 
flood,  the  gallant  piebald  obeyed,  and  at  last,  with  drip- 
ping flanks,  clambered  safely  out  oil  the  westward  side. 
One  short  minute  for  a  breathing  spell,  then  on  they 
went  again.  Four  minutes  more,  and  the  dim  lights  at 
the  bridge,  half  a  mile  to  the  south,  were  square  to  the 
left;  six  minutes,  and  they  were  well  behind ;  ten  minutes, 
and  Tom  and  Dot,  wearily,  heavily  now,  were  lumbering 
up  a  long  ravine,  dark  and  drear  and  lonely,  but  the 
brave  heart  of  the  little  fellow  never  faltered;  he  would 
reach  that  level  mile  over  the  " bench  "  in  front  of  Red 
Bluff,  and  stop  the  headlong  rush  of  old  615,  no  matter 
what  lying  switch  lig'hts  might,  say,  no  matter  what 
drink-maddened  strikers  might,  do. 

Already  he  was  drawing  near  the  track  again.  Glan- 
cing over  his  left  shoulder  he  could  see  that  only  one 
light  was  gleaming  now  near  the  bridge — the  fa.int  green 
disk  at  the  switch.  Their  cowardly  work  complete,  the 
gang  had  doused  their  lanterns,  and  now  were  lurking  in 
the  shadows  well  away,  yet  lingering,  fascinated,  to  watch 
the  result.  On,  Dot  —  on!  It  must  be  that  the  train  is 
near.  Scapegrace  strained  his  ears  to  listen,  but  Dot's 
panting  drowned  all  other  sounds.  At  last,  just  ahead 


A    BREATHLESS    BOY    STUMBLED    FORWARD    INTO    THEIR    ARMS,  SHOUTING    OUT,    "THE    BRIDGE!" 


218 


HAKPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


now,  dimly  seen  against  the  southern  sky,  a  straight 
lancelike  staff  stood  pointing  to  the  zenith — a  telegraph 
pole,  and  there,  further  east,  another.  The  track  at  last 
— at  last!  and  not  an  instant  too  soon.  Even  as  lie 
prodded  Dot  to  one  last  effort,  far  to  the  west  among  the 
hills  a  dull  roar  as  of  distant  thunder  fell  upon  his  ears. 
The  train!  the  train  !  already  at  the  Tower  Tunnel. 

In  mad  haste  now  he  threw  himself  from  the  saddle, 
leaving  Dot  with  bowed  head  and  heaving  flanks  to  look 
after  himself.  In  mad  haste  he  scrambled  up  the  low 
embankment,  grasping  his  precious  lantern.  In  mud 
haste  he  fumbled  for  his  matches,  thanking  God  with  all 
his  boyish  heart  that  the  night  wind  had  not  risen.  An- 
other minute,  and,  crack!  a  bright  flame  shot  from  the 
iron  rail— another,  and  a  feeble  glimmer  sprang  from  the 
wick.  Another,  and  witli  increasing  roar  and  rumble 
the  bowels  of  the  earth  seemed  to  slowly  open  half  a 
mile  to  the  west,  and  a  white  light  growing'  every  instant 
brighter  and  broader  came  streaming  around  the  base  of 
Red  Bluff,  and  then  a  brilliant  gleaming  eye  seemed 
suddenly  to  focus  on  the  track.  Two  threads  of  glisten- 
ing steel,  nearly  five  feet  apart  where  he  stood,  seemed 
to  meet  almost  immediately  under  it;  the  rails  began  to 
creep  and  quiver,  the  ground  to  tremble,  and  with  his  lit- 
tle heart  away  up  in  his  throat  Tommy  lifted  high  his 
lantern  —  high  as  he  could  reach  —  then  lowered  and 
raised — lowered  and  raised,  straight  up  and  down — 
square  in  the  middle  of  the  track,  and,  bearing  down  on 
him  at  full  speed,  his  mighty  engine  throbbing  under  him 
instinct  with  life,  big  Ned  Westou,  peering  from  his  cab 
window  just  as  Tommy  pictured  him,  saw  and  under- 
stood. Shriek  went  the  whistle,  slap  went  the  throttle- 
valve  Hat  against  the  boiler,  snap  went  the  air-brake, 
every  clamp  gripping  its  wheel  on  the  instant  like  a  vise. 
Out  from  the  'scape-valve,  with  mighty  hiss  and  roar, 
rushed  the  pent-up  steam,  and  all  on  a  sudden  the  big 
train  began  to  bump  and  grind  along  the  rails.  Black 
heads  popped  out  of  the  open  windows,  and  little  by  little 
old  015's  flying  wheels  slowed  down  and  came  to  a  stand, 
and  Ned  Weston's  foremost  guards,  springing  from  the 
pilot,  rail  ahead,  a  tall  Captain  bounding  after  them,  and 
a  little  freckle  -  faced  breathless  boy  stumbled  forward 
into  their  arms,  sobbing  out  "The  bridge!" 

Four  hours  later,  in  another  train,  without  a  man  in- 
jured or  missing,  Colonel  Wallace  and  his  command 
pushed  ahead  from  Butte.  Meantime,  however,  they  had 
marched  into  town  with  half  a  dozen  prisoners  picked  up 
near  the  ruined  trestle,  had  hammered  some  riotous  heads 
rather  hard,  and  had  had  a  chance  to  tell  to  many  a  wife 
and  mother  who  had  hurried  into  town  for  one  glimpse 
of  her  own  particular  soldier  the  story  of  their  escape. 
"Goodness  gracious!''  said  Fort  Ransom,  "who  would 
have  thought  of  that  in  Scapegrace?" 

But  it  was  the  old  Colonel  who  picked  the  little  fellow 
up  and  held  him  close  to  his  heart  one  minute  before  they 
started  on  again,  then,  with  glistening  eyes,  returned 
him  to  his  silent  father,  and  grasped  the  latter's  hand. 
"Say  rather  who  would  have  thought  of  that  but 
Scapegrace!"  was  the  way  old  Wallace  put  it. 


THE  FALLING  STAR. 

A  LITTLE  maul  by  the  window-bar 
Stood  eagerly  watching  a  falling  star: 
She  clapped  her  hands  with  a  quick  delight, 
But  grew  demure  as  it  passed  from  sight. 

One  moment  still  as  the  star,  now  dead, 

Tin'  next  she  lifted  her  curly  lirad, 

And   s;iid  with  an  earnestness  none  could  doubt. 

••1  link  it's  a  tandle  dat  Dod  blew  out!" 

WILLIAM  H.  HAYXE. 


AFLOAT  WITH  THE   FLAG.* 

BY   W.  J.  HENDERSON. 

CHAPTER   XXIII. 
THE  "WIGWAG"  SIGNAL. 

'"VTOW  how  on  earth  are  we  to  manage  it,  that's  what 

_Ll    I'd  like  to  know?"  said  George. 

"Not  by  being  impatient,"  said  Hal.  "We  must  keep 
cool  and  think." 

"Right,  sir,"  said  Peter,  who  was  a  party  to  the  coun- 
cil. "  As  my  old  mother  used  to  say,  fust  do  a  good  deal 
o'  thin  kin',  then  a  good  deal  o'  talkin',  an'  then  mebbe 
ye'll  be  fit  to  do  a  little  doin'." 

"First  of  all, "said  Harold,"  we  must  let  Captain  Lock- 
wood  know  that  we  saw  his  son  in  the  hands  of  the  rebels." 

"  Werry  good,"  said  Peter.  "  An'  then  him  an' you  talks 
it  all  over  an'  shapes  a  course  for  wot  are  to  be  did  next." 

"  Exactly,"  said  Harold.  "  But  first  of  all  we've  got  to 
get  permission  to  go  ashore,  so  that — 

"Mr.  King,  the  First  Lieutenant  wants  to  see  you," 
said  a  messenger,  corning  up. 

In  a  few  minutes  Harold  returned  with  beaming  eves. 

"  It's  the  finest  kind  of  luck,"  he  said,  "but  I'm  order- 
ed to  go  ashore  on  an  errand.  I  have  permission  to  take 
you  with  me,  George,  and  Peter's  to  be  our  cockswain." 

"  When  are  we  to  go?"  asked  George. 

"Right  away,"  answered  Hal. 

"  Werry  good,"  said  Peter.    "  I  goes  an'  I  gets  the  boat." 

Harold  had  already  reported  his  orders  to  the  officer  of 
the  deck,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  boat  was  at  the  star- 
board gangway.  The  boys  set  off  for  the  shore  in  good 
spirits,  and  were  not  long  in  finding  their  way  to  the 
Alma,  where  they  were  heartily  welcomed  by  Captain 
Lockwood  and  Minnie. 

"That  was  a  great  time  we  had  two  days  ago,"  said  the 
Captain.  "But  I'll  admit  that  although  I  came  to  the 
wharf  I  was  sorry  to  see  the  American  ships  return  to 
their  berths  without  giving  Da  Gama  a  thrashing." 

"  But  you  forget  Frank  !"  exclaimed  Hal. 

"Well,  for  his  sake  I'm  glad  there  was  no  fight." 

"We  have  some  news  for  you,"  said  Hal. 

"About  Robert?"  exclaimed  the  Captain. 

"  He's  in  the  hands  of  the  rebels,"  said  George. 

"Oh,  I've  learned  that, "  said  the  Captain.  "It  was 
Bob  that  called  to  me  from  the  tug  the  other  day.  But 
my  agent  here  can't  find  out  where  he  is  now." 

"Then  they  have  him  hidden  somewhere,"  said  Hal. 

"That's  it;   but  where?" 

"Frank  is  our  man,"  said  Hal,  after  a  moment's 
thought.  "He  must  get  his  friend  Bennos  to  find  out 
for  him." 

"Do  you  think  Bennos  will  do  it?"  asked  the  Captain. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Hal,  "  but  I  see  no  other  way. 
Anyhow,  Captain,  you  work  your  way,  and  we'll  try  to 
communicate  with  Frank.  Between  the  two  we  ought 
to  get  something." 

The  boys  now  went  to  attend  to  their  errand,  and  in  a 
short  time  were  on  their  way  back  to  the  ship.  While 
they  had  been  ashore  Frank  had  heard  a  piece  of  news 
that  filled  him  with  the  deepest  anxiety.  The  boy  had 
picked  up  enough  of  the  language  to  understand  a  good 
deal  more  than  the  Brazilians  thought  he  did,  and  lie  had 
overheard  a  conversation  which  made  him  intensely  anx- 
ious to  communicate  with  his  uncle.  Unfortunately  he 
was  allowed  no  liberty  at  all,  because  the  Brazilians, 
knowing  him  to  be  an  American,  had  no"  faith  in  him 
now.  So  Frank  now  set  about  contriving  some  plan  by 
which  he  could  communicate  with  Harold  and  George. 
He  knew  that  whatever  he  was  to  do  must  be  done  quick- 
ly, for  the  Aquidaban  might  at  any  moment  up  anchor 
•  Begun  in  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  No.  784. 


JANUARY  22,  1895 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


219 


and  stand  out  to  sea  again.  But  plan  as  he  might  he 
could  think  of  no  way  to  meet  his  two  classmates.  It  is 
said  that  when  Fortune  is  at  her  worst  she  turns  favor- 
ably, and  she  certainly  now  favored  Frank. 

"  Amigo  mio,"  said  Bennos,  approaching  him  as  he 
stood  leaning  over  the  taffrail ;  ''some  men  are  to  go  to 
the  beach  to  swim.  You  are  to  command  the  boat." 

The  beach  referred  to  was  on  Engenha  Island,  near 
which  the  Aquidaban  was  anchored.  It  was  half  a  mile 
away  from  the  war-ship,  and  as  pleasant  a  place  for  bath- 
ing as  could  be  found  in  such  foul  waters. 

"All  right,"  said  Frank.    "Are  they  going  right  away?" 
"Si,  amigo,"  replied  Bennos. 

The  boat,  with  some  twenty-five  Brazilians  in  it,  was 
brought  alongside,  and  Frank  seated  himself  in  the  stern- 
sheets. 

"  How  long  are  we  allowed?"  he  called  to  Bennos  as 
the  boat  was  pushed  off. 

"Till  the  next  watch  begins,"  was  the  answer. 

That  meant  nearly  two  hours.  In  fifteen  minutes  the 
boat  was  on  the  beach  and  the  men  were  undressing. 
Frank  did  not  feel  like  swimming  in  Rio  Harbor. 

"Take  charge  of  the  men,"  he  said  to  the  principal 
petty  officer. 

Then  he  walked  away  toward  a  short  bluff  point  which 
terminated  the  beach  at  one  end,  and  sat  down  on  a  rock. 
He  was  half  lost  in  moody  speculation  when  he  chanced 
to  notice  that  he  was  almost  abeam  of  the  Detroit.  By 
walking  around  to  the  side  of  the  point  furthest  from  the 
beach,  and  out  of  sight  from  the  deck  of  the  Aqiii<l«l><in. 
he  found  himself  directly  opposite  the  American  gun-boat. 

"Now,"  he  thought,  "if  I  could  only  signal  the  boys. 
But  of  course  it  wouldn't  do." 

At  that  moment  an  American  man-of-war's  boat  came 
around  the  end  of  the  island  nearest  the  city.  There 
were  two  officers  in  the  stern,  but  it  was  impossible  to 
identify  them  at  the  distance.  However,  as  the  boat  ad- 
vanced it  drew  nearer  to  the  island,  and  Frank  began  to 
fancy  that  he  recognized  one  of  the  officers  as  George. 

''They'll  be  past  in  a  few  minutes,  and  out  of  sight 
around  the  point,"  he  muttered.  "I'll  risk  it." 

He  broke  a  short  straight  branch  oft'  a  bush,  and  tied 
his  handkerchief  to  it,  making  a  small  but  distinct  signal- 
flag.  Then  selecting  a  place  where  the  light  was  good, 
and  there  was  a  solid  background  of  green,  lie  began 
making  the  three  motions  to  the  left  which  represent  the 
letter  D  in  the  navy  wigwag  code.  D  is  the  "  call"  let- 
ter of  Detroit.  He  made  the  signal  half  a  dozen  times 
in  vain,  and  he  thought  the  boat  was  about  to  pass  out 
of  sight  around  the  end  of  the  point,  when  suddenly  the 
men  ceased  rowing.  One  of  the  officers  in  the  stern  took 
off  his  cap,  and,  without  standing  up,  waved  it  twice  to 
the  left,  twice  to  the  left  again,  and  then  once  down  in 
front  of  him.  That  meant  that  the  signal  of  Frank  was 
seen  and  understood. 

"Jolly  good  thing  I  know  my  wigwag  so  well," 
thought  Frank;  "and  if  those  beastly  Brazilians  should 
see  these  signals  they  couldn't  read  them." 

Frank  now  rapidly  wigwagged  this  message: 

"Frank  Lockwood  would  like  to  say  something  to 
Hal  King  or  George  Briscomb." 

"  We  are  both  in  this  boat.  Will  come  ashore,"  was 
the  answer. 

"Pull  in  diagonally;  don't  let  men  bathing  see  you 
land,"  signalled  Frank. 

The  hint  was  taken,  and  five  minutes  later  the  light 
whale-boat  was  scraping  her  heel  on  the  sand  behind  the 
point. 

"It's  lucky  we  were  sent  off  on  an  errand  just  when 
you  were  ashore,"  said  George,  grasping  Frank's  hand. 

"  We've  been  to  see  your  uncle,"  said  Hal. 

"  Is  he  well?     And  Minnie?"  asked  Frank. 

"  Both  are  well.     We  had  news  for  them,"  said  Hal. 


"  We've  seen  Robert,"  blurted  out  George. 

"Where?"  demanded  Frank. 

Hal  rapidly  told  all  that  was  known  about  the  unfor- 
tunate son  of  the  Captain. 

"That  still  further  complicates  matters."  said  Frank. 

The  anxious,  strained  look  in  the  boy's  face  made  Har- 
old grave  at  once. 

"There's  something  serious,  isn't  there?"  he  asked. 

"Yes, "-said  Frank. 

"Then  let's  hear  it  right  away. 

"  Come  over  here." 

The  three  boys  went  and  sat  on  a  rock,  and  Frank 
opened  the  story  of  his  troubles. 

CHAPTER   XXIV. 
A      COWARDLY      PLOT. 

"I  SUPPOSE,"  he  said,  "  I  needn't  tell  you  fellows  that 
I  wasn't  particularly  happy  when  you  cleared  for  action 
the  other  day." 

;1  No,  Frank."  said  Harold ;  "  we  thought  about  you." 

"I'm  sure  you  did,"  said  Frank. 

"But,"  exclaimed  George,  "it  must  have  been  a  little 
consolation  to  you  to  know  that  none  of  our  class  are 
aboard  the  New  York." 

"  But  there  are  cadets  there,"  declared  Frank;  "  Wat- 
kins  and  Glenn  and  Carver — fellows  we  knew  well  at  the 
Academy.  Do  you  think  I'd  have  felt  like  starting  a 
70-pound  shell  in  their  direction?" 

"No,  of  course  not,"  said  Harold,  warmly.  "  George, 
don't  speak  so  hastily." 

"  Besides,"  continued  Frank,  with  great  emotion,  "do 
you  think  I  couldn't  see  the  flag  at  her  taffrail?  A  fellow 
doesn't  feel  much  like  turning  against  the  flag  which  four 
years  of  his  life  have  taught  him  to  reverence." 

The  three  boys  were  silent  for  a  few  moments,  and  then 
Frank  continued,  "  But  I  didn't  wigwag  you  to  come 
ashore  to  tell  you  what  oughtn't  to  be  any  news  to  you." 

"  No,"  replied  Hal;  "  but  I  would  like  to  ask  you  one 
question  about  that  affair." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  What  did  you  intend  to  do  that  day?" 

Frank  paused  a  few  seconds  before  lie  answered,  with 
much  solemnity,  "Get  myself  wounded,  if  exposure  to 
fire  would  do  it." 

"Oh,  I  say,  old  man !"  exclaimed  George,  in  a  shocked 
tone. 

"You'd  have  done  the  same  thing  if  you'd  been  in  my 
place,"  said  Frank,  earnestly. 

"But  fortunately  for  us  all,"  said  Harold,  soothingly, 
"  nothing  came  of  the  demonstration." 

"No,"  replied  Frank;  "the  kind  of  fighting  that  our 
Admiral  saw  in  your  Admiral's  eye  was  something  we're 
not  accustomed  to  down  here." 

Again  the  three  were  silent  for  a  few  seconds,  and  then 
Frank  said, 

"As  soon  as  the  thing  was  over,  and  we  had  returned 
to  our  anchorage,  I  went  straight  to  the  old  man,  and 
asked  leave  to  resign  from  the  service." 

"And  what  did  he  say?"  asked  George. 

"  He  laughed  at  me,"  answered  Frank.  "  He  refused 
to  listen  to  any  such  proposition.  I  tried  to  make  him 
understand  my  feelings,  but  he  was  inflexible.  He  said 
that  there  could  not  by  any  possibility  be  any  further 
collision  between  us  and  the  United  States  fleet.  I  told 
him  I  was  sick  of  the  whole  business  anyhow,  but  he  said 
that  was  no  reason  at  all.  Others  were  sick  of  it,  too; 
but  he  had  never  known  any  service  in  which  there  was 
not  discontent.  He  met  all  further  argument  on  my 
part  by  a  cold  declaration  that  he  would  not  accept  my 
resignation,  and  that  any  attempt  at  desertion  would  be 
treated  according  to  the  usages  of  war." 

"  The  old  brute!"  exclaimed  George. 


220 


HARPER'S    YOUNG    PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


PS 


HE    MADE    THE    SIGNAL    HALF    A    DOZEN    TIMES    IN    VAIN 


"I  answered  that  I  had  no  idea  of  deserting;  that  I 
felt  myself  in  honor  bound,  as  he  would  not  release  me, 
to  serve  my  time  out." 

"  There  doesn't  seem  to  be  any  help  for  it,"  said  Harold. 

"  But  he  has  no  faith  in  my  honor,"  said  Frank. 

"What  makes  you  think  so?"  asked  Hal. 

"I  can  see  that  I  am  watched  most  of  the  time,"  re- 
sponded Frank;  "and  they  don't  allow  me  to  get  out  of 
sight.  This  trip  ashore  was  permitted  only  because  they 
know  I'm  with  a  boatload  of  men,  and  they  don't  think 
I  can  escape  from  the  island." 

"  But  Bennos?"  queried  Hal. 

"Oh,  I  think  he  understands  me,"  answered  Frank; 
"  he  does  not  think  I  would  desert." 

"  I'm  glad  of  that,"  said  George.  "  I  took  quite  a  fancy 
to  that  fellow.  And  we  may  need  his  help." 

"How?"  said  Frank. 

"Never  mind  that  now,"  said  Hal.  '  Tell  me  first 
why  the  Aquidaban  is  likely  to  go  out  at  any  time." 

"There  is  a  report  that  the  government  cruiser  Nic- 
theroy  has  been  seen  not  far  up  the  coast,  and  is  coining 
down  here.  We  intend  to  meetand  engage  her  outside." 

"My!"  exclaimed  George;  "then  there  will  be  a  big 
fight." 

"  Yes,"  said  Frank;  "  but  she  has  not  made  her  appear- 
ance yet.  Nevertheless,  we  are  likely  to  up  anchor  and 
go  out  at  any  moment.  And  that's  why  I  consider  my- 
self so  lucky  to  catch  you  to-day.  I  don't  know  how  I 
should  ever  have  managed  to  communicate  with  you, 
and  you  were  my  only  hope." 

"  Your  only  hope?    What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Hal. 

"  It  is  of  vital  importance  that  I  get  a  message  to  my 
uncle,  Captain  Lock  wood,"  said  Frank. 

"Too  bad  you  didn't  catch  us  when  we  were  going 
ashore,"  said  George. 

"Yes,  we  could  have  delivered  it,  of  course,"  added  Hal. 

"  My  uncle  must  be  warned  somehow  to  keep  his  wea- 
ther-eye lifting,  because  they're  brewing  trouble  for  him." 


"  Who?" 

"Our    people  —  the    insurgents.       I 
overheard    a   conversation   aboard    the 
Aquiclabnn  this  morning." 
"What  was  it?" 

"I  knmv  a  heap  more  about  their  lin- 
go   now   than    they  think   I    do,"   said 
Frank,  "  or  they  would  have  been  more 
careful.      What    I   made   out   was  that 
there's    a  scheme    afoot   to   scuttle    the 
Alma  at  her  wharf  to-morrow  night." 
Harold  and  George  looked  horrified. 
"To  scuttle  her!"  exclaimed  Hal. 
"  Why,    Frank,"    declared     George, 
"  that's  not  warfare ;  that's  rank  piracy." 
"It's  a  piece  of  contemptible  coward- 
ice," said  Frank. hotly ;  "  but  it's  worthy 
of  the  rebels.      Mind  you.  it's  not  to  be 
done  by  any  of  the  people  in  the  fleet. 
They're  a  deal  too  careful  of  their  pre- 
cious hides  to  venture  ashore.      It's  to 
be  done  by  some  agent  of  theirs  in  the. 
city." 

"  Then  we  must  not  lose  any  time," 
said  George,  rising. 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  said  Hal.  "Pe- 
ter, come  up  here." 

The  cockswain  left  the  boat  and  ap- 
proached the  cadets.  Hal  repeated 
Frank's  story  to  him. 

"Do  you  think  we  could  get  permis- 
sion to  go  ashore  again  to  warn  Captain 
Lock  wood?" 

"  Waal,  sir,  I  should  say  as  how  we 
could,  cos  w'y;    we're    here    to  per  tec  t 
American  interests,  an'  if  them  isn't  they,  wot  are?" 

"Good;  we'll  try  it.  Meantime  this  is  what  we  need 
of  Bennos,"  said  Hal,  speaking  rapidly  and  decidedly. 
"He  must  find  out  for  you  where  Bob  is,  and  you  must 
tell  us." 

"Suppose  he  doesn't  know." 

"Then  you  can't  help  us.  Anyhow,  the  bark  must  be 
saved  first,"  said  Hal. 

"How  am  I  to  get  word  to  you?"  asked  Frank. 
"  Beggiii'  yer  pardon,  sir,"  said  Peter,  "an'  I  kin  give 
a  plan." 

"  Go  ahead." 

"  Write  yer  news  an'  put  it  into  a  bottle.  Werry 
good.  W'en  you  sees  our  boat  a-leavin'  the  ship  you 
chucks  the  bottle  overboard,  an'  it  drifts  down  to  where 
we  picks  it  up,  sir." 

"That  might  work,"  said  Frank. 
"  We  must  try  it,"  said  Hal. 

The  friends  now  separated,  the  cadets  hastening  back  to 
the  Detroit.  They  had  no  serious  difficulty  in  obtaining 
permission  to  go  ashore  again  to  warn  Captain  Lock- 
wood.  But  they  looked  in  vain  for  the  bottle  which 
Frank  was  to  throw  overboard.  If  they  had  reflected 
they  would  have  known  that  they  had  not  given  him 
time  enough  to  accomplish  his  purpose.  Filled  with  disap- 
pointment, they  made  the  best  of  their  way  to  the  Alma. 
To  their  dismay  they  learned  that  Captain  Lock  wood 
and  his  daughter  were  ashore.  So  were  the  mates. 

"  Here's  a  go,"  said  Hal.     "  No  use  telling  the  sailors." 
"  We  might  leave  a  note,"  said  George. 
"No,"  said  Hal;  "  you  know  Captain  Lockwood  would 
only  laugh  at  it,  and  think  we  were  easily  frightened." 

"Then  we  must  wait  till  to-morrow,"  said  George. 
"The  plot  is  not  to  be  put  into  execution  till  to-morrow 
night,  you  know." 

"And  in  the  mean  time  \ve  may  hear  from  Frank," 
said  Hal. 

They  returned   to  their  boat,  and  started  back  to  the 


JANUARY  22,  1S95. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


221 


Detroit.  When  they  were  at  a  point  directly  to  the 
south  ward  of  the  Aqiiidaban's  anchorage  Peter  cried: 

"There  she  blows!  I  mean  there  she  floats— the  bot- 
tle, sir." 

In  another  minute  they  were  alongside  of  it,  and  had  it 
aboard. 

''My  cousin,"  said  Frank's  note,  "is  said  to  be  con- 
fined in  the  house  of  a  rebel  sympathizer  named  Miguel 
Santos,  on  the  great  northern  road,  four  miles  beyond  the 
city.  I  enclose  chart  of  the  location.  But  my  informant 
is  not  sure  that  he  is  there.  He  is  condemned  to  be  shot." 

"  We  must  get  off  for  the  whole  day  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, and  search  for  the  boy  first,"  said  Hal. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


PATIENCE  RAWLINS'S    HEROISM. 

A    STORY    OF    THE    INDIAN    WARS. 

BY  JAMES  OTIS. 

fourth  French  and  Indian  war  was  declared  in  due 
I  form  at  Boston,  Massachusetts,  and  Portsmouth,  New 
Hampshire,  July  25,  1722,  and  the  first  appearance  of  the 
enemy  in  New  Hampshire  was  at  Dover,  where  Joseph 
Ham  was  killed  and  his  three  children  taken  prisoners. 
The  second  victim  was  Tristram  Heard,  and  then  came 
the  attack  on  the  settlement  at  Lamprey  River  Landing, 
near  Newmarket,  August  29th,  when  Patience  Rawliiis, 
a  girl  only  twelve  years  of  age,  gave  her  life  in  the  liepe  of 
saving  those  whom  she  loved. 

In  this  settlement  were  four  "garrisoned  houses,"  so 
called  because  they  had  been  built  with  especial  reference 
to  resisting  an  attack  from  the  Indians.  The  remainder 
of  the  dwellings  were  ordinary  log  buildings  stoutly  made, 


but  not  calculated  to  hold  in  check  any  considerable  num- 
ber of  savages. 

After  the  war  had  been  declared,  it  was  customary  for 
the  inhabitants  of  the  little  village  to  seek  shelter  in  the 
"block-houses  "  during  the  night,  leaving  their  own  homes 
to  the  mercy  of  any  hostiles  who  might  pass  that  way. 

Nearly  a  year  elapsed  since  the  "  Three  Years' War  " 
began,  and  the  dwellers  at  Lamprey  River  Landing  had 
grown  careless  in  their  immunity  from  an  attack.  Dur- 
ing two  months  prior  to  this  29th  of  August,  Aaron  Raw- 
lins  and  his  brother  Samuel,  both  of  whom  lived  on  the 
outskirts  of  the  settlement,  had  neglected  to  take  any  pre- 
cautions for  the  safety  of  their  families  after  nightfall, 
owing  to  the  annoyance  and  trouble  of  moving  back  and 
forth  every  twenty-four  hours. 

Aaron's  household  consisted  of  himself,  his  wife,  Pa- 
tience, a  girl  twelve  years,  Thomas,  a  boy  of  eight,  and 
Mary,  two  years  younger. 

This  day  had  been  exceedingly  warm,  and  as  the  shad- 
ows of  evening  began  to  lengthen  the  members  of  the 
family  were  seated  on  the  broad  stone  which  served  as  a 
step  to  the  door,  when  Jethro  Nock,  who  lived  two  miles 
further  down  the  river,  came  up.  looking  anxious  and  ex- 
cited. "  \Vliv  are  you  here?"  he  asked,  sharply,  and  Mr. 
Rawlins  replied,  laughingly, 

"Because  we  are  at  home,  which  is  better  than  having 
a  two-mile  pull  in  a  boat,  as  you  must  take  before  supper." 

"  Did  you  know  your  brother  Samuel  had  gone  to  the 
block-house?" 

"  What  has  startled  Sam  now?  He  always  was  a  tim- 
orous man,  and  during  the  past  year  has  spent  fully  a 
third  of  his  time  moving  to  and  fro,  seeking  shelter  from 
savages  who  never  come." 

"This  time,  friend  Rawlins,  they  are  reported  to  be 


"FIRE    AT    THE   FIRST    TOFT    OF    FEATHERS   YOU    SEE,"  MR.    RAWLINS    SAID,   HOARSELY. 


222 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


close  at  hand,  and  it  behooves  you  to  follow  Samuel's  ex- 
ample. I  shall  take  my  little  ones  into  the  settlement, 
even  though  I  am  forced  to  travel  all  night." 

"  But  where  are  the  savages?" 

"Have  you  not  learned  of  the  murder  of  Tristram 
Heard?" 

"  That  was  done  two  weeks  ago,  and  the  miscreants  are 
in  Canada  again  long  before  this." 

"  It  is  said  a  party  of  eighteen  have  been  seen  near  the 
settlement,  and — 

"  I  have  heard  such  rumors  before,  Friend  Nock;  but 
110  harm  has  come  to  me  or  mine  as  yet." 

"Be  not  overconfident.  The  cautious  man  is  he  who 
sees  danger  in  every  bush — 

"  And  thereby  loses  much  time  looking  for  it,  when  he 
had  better  be  tilling  the  not-overgenerous  soil." 

The  kindly  intentioned  neighbor,  who  had  walked  half 
a  mile  out  of  his  direct  course  in  order  to  warn  his  friend, 
made  no  reply,  but  hurried  on,  fearful  lest  some  harm 
should  already  have  come  to  his  loved  ones. 

Mrs.  Rawlins  was  not  as  bold  as  her  husband,  and  Mr. 
Nock  had  no  sooner  disappeared  among  the  trees  than 
she  called  the  children  into  the  house,  where  she  made 
certain  the  windows  were  fastened  as  securely  as  was 
possible. 

Half  an  hour  later  her  husband  followed,  and  the  dwell- 
ing was  being  closed  for  the  night,  when  the  good  woman 
remembered  that  some  yarn  which  had  been  taken  from 
the  dye-pot  that  morning  was  yet  hanging  on  the  bushes 
at  the  front  of  the  house. 

"Wait  until  I  bring  it,  Aaron,"  she  said,  as  her  hus- 
band was  putting  in  place  the  heavy  wooden  bar  which 
served  as  lock. 

Thomas  and  Mary,  who  had  been  frightened  by  the 
words  of  Mr.  Nock,  followed  her,  believing  there  could  be 
no  place  where  safety  was  more  assured  than  with  their 
mother. 

Patience  was  making  ready  the  rude  bed  in  which  she 
and  Mary  slept,  when  she  was  startled  by  seeing  her  fa- 
ther, who  had  been  standing  in  the  doorway  watching 
his  wife's  movements,  suddenly  spring  back  into  the 
room  and  bar  the  door  hurriedly. 

"Why,  father,"  she  cried,  "  mother  and  the  children 
are — 

"The  Indians  have  come,  nay  child!  I  have  been  a 
fool  in  my  fancied  securiiy,  and  now  our  lives  will  pay 
the  forfeit !" 

"But  mother— 

"She  and  the  children  are  already  in  the  hands  of  the 
enemy.  Even  as  I  looked  after  them  they  were  each 
seized  by  two  savages,  who  covered  their  mouths  to  pre- 
vent an  alarm  being  given,  and  dragged  them  within  the 
shelter  of  the  bushes." 

"Then  we  must  go  to  their  aid!"  and  Patience  hastily 
took  down  one  of  the  two  guns  which  hung,  loaded  and 
primed,  above  the  fireplace. 

"You  will  need  the  rifle,  my  daughter;  but  we  could 
do  no  more  for  your  poor  mother  and  the  babies  than  to 
die  with  them  if  we  went  out;"  and  Mr.  Rawlius  spoke  in 
a  tone  of  despair. 

"  Are  we  to  make  no  effort  to  save  them?" 

"  All  we  can  do  is  to  hold  the  house  against  the  enemy, 
making  the  best  defence  God  permits.  By  so  doing  the 
neighbors  will  be  alarmed,  and  there  are  enough  men  in 
the  settlement  to  overpower  the  savages,  if  it  happily  l>e 
that  but  eighteen  are  in  the  party,  as  Jethro  Nock  stated. 
It  is  our  only  hope  of  aiding  them,  Patience,  and  this 
night  you  must  be  as  a  son  to  me." 

"  I  can  use  the  rifle,  father,  and  if  in  so  doing  I  am  help- 
ing our  dear  ones,  I  shall  be  willing  to  die  with  it  in  my 
hands." 

It  is  more  than  probable  that  Aaron  Rawlins  under- 
stood fully  how  vain  would  be  their  efforts  at  holding 


the  enemy  in  check;  but  he  had  good  reason  to  believe 
his  neighbors  would  hasten  to  the  rescue  immediately  on 
hearing  the  reports  of  the  weapons. 

Believing  she  would  be  assisting  those  whom  she  loved 
so  dearly  by  making  the  most  spirited  defence  possible, 
Patience,  her  face  colorless  and  with  a  nervous  tremor  of 
the  hands  which  could  not  at  first  be  repressed,  went  to 
the  window  at  the  front  of  the  house,  through  the  shutter 
of  which  small  apertures  had  been  cut. 

"Fire  at  the  first  tuft  of  feathers  you  see,"  Mr.  Raw- 
lins said,  hoarsely,  as  he  took  his  station  at  the  door, 
"and  God  grant  that  you  don't  waste  a  bullet,  for  our 
supply  is  all  too  small  for  our  necessities." 

The  child  realized  that  she  must  conquer  the  fever  of 
fear  which  had  seized  upon  her  if  she  would  aid  the 
loved  ones,  and  the  rifle  was  lowered  for  an  instant  as 
she  breathed  a  prayer,  not  in  her  own  behalf,  but  for 
those  in  the  power  of  an  enemy  who  knew  no  mercy. 

When  she  raised  her  weapon  to  the  loop-hole  again 
her  hands  were  steady ;  the  nervous  tremor  had  disap- 
peared nevermore  to  return. 

Peering  eagerly  into  the  thicket,  which  was  now  dim 
and  shadowy  in  the  gloom  of  the  evening,  she  saw  a 
moving  object  which  at  any  other  time  would  have  been 
mistaken  for  a  bird. 

The  weapon  was  discharged,  and  a  sudden  movement 
of  the  foliage  told  that  the  first  bullet  had  not  been  wasted. 

"Well  done,  Patience!"  her  father  cried,  hoarsely. 
"  The  alarm  has  been  given,  and  the  neighbors  must  soon 
come  to  the  rescue." 

"  If  they  succeed  in  freeing  mother  and  the  children 
it  will  be  enough.  If  I  could  only  give  myself  up  in 
their  stead !" 

"You  are  doing  all  that  is  possible,  my  darling  girl, 
and  between  us  we  shall  keep  the  fiends  in  check  till  aid 
can  come.  They  are  not  so  brave  that  they  will  come 
out  in  fair  battle,  and  we  should  be  able  to  hold  our 
house  against  them,  at  least,  until  the  ammunition  is  ex- 
hausted." 

During  the  succeeding  quarter  of  an  hour  the  defend- 
ers of  the  building  had  but  little  opportunity  for  conver- 
sation. The  savages  were  drawing  nearer  and  nearer 
the  doomed  dwelling,  and  both  the  brave  ones  were  fully 
occupied.  Patience  had  discharged  her  weapon  until 
the  barrel  was  so  hot  as  to  burn  her  slender  fingers,  and 
she  was  obliged  to  cool  it  as  best  she  could  with  water. 

Half  an  hour  passed;  the  attack  was  being  made  with 
more  vigor;  the  rattle  of  fire-arms  should  have  been 
heard  a  mile  away,  but  yet  the  hoped-for  assistance  failed 
to  arrive. 

"The  men  in  the  block -house  must  have  heard  the 
noise,  father,"  Patience  said  in  a  tremulous  voice. 

"They  think  the  enemy  is  here  in  larger  force  than 
really  is  the  case,  and  are  afraid  to  venture  out.  When 
your  rifle  is  cool,  give  it  to  me,  and  take  mine.  It  is 
growing  so  dark  that  I  haven't  seen  my  target  fairly 
since  the  last  ten  minutes." 

Reloading  her  weapon,  Patience  gave  it  to  her  father, 
receiving  his  in  exchange.  She  was  yet  busily  engaged 
pouring  water  into  the  heated  barrel,  when  a  cry  of 
anguish  caused  her  to  look  up  just  as  her  father  fell  to 
the  floor,  the  blood  gushing  from  his  lips.  Through  the 
crevices  between  the  logs  a  bullet  had  found  its  way, 
wounding  him  unto  death.  Springing  to  his  side  she 
did  her  feeble  best  to  raise  his  head;  but  he  motioned 
her  away,  saying  as  lie  did  so, 

"Your  place  is  at  the  loop-hole,  my  darling.  It  is  to 
save  your  own  life  that  you  must  hold  the  house  now; 
mine  is  nearly  gone." 

Patience   hardly   understood   what    he   had    said;    the' 
thought  had  suddenly  come  to  her  that  unless  a  vigorous 
defence  was  continued  her  mother  might  be  exposed  to 
yet   more   danger,  and  she  took   her  father's  station   at 


JANUARY  22,  1895. 


HARPEK'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


223 


the  door.  Five  times  did  she  discharge  the  weapon  at 
shadowy  forms  which  could  be  seen  darting  to  and  fro 
amid  the  shrubbery,  and  then  came  a  violent  concussion 
which  literally  shook  the  building.  Well  did  she  know 
the  meaning  of  that  shock.  The  enemy  had  felled  a 
tree,  and  was  using  it  to  batter  down  the  door.  Forsak- 
ing her  post  of  duty  for  an  instant  she  ran  to  where  her 
father  lay,  kissed  his  blood-stained  lips,  and  whispered, 

"God  love  and  keep  you!" 

Then  her  weapon  was  discharged  once  more;  but  it 
was  for  the  last  time.  Another  blow  on  the  already 
splintered  door,  and  through  the  opening  thus  made  a 
host  of  painted,  howling  savages  burst  in.  The  little 
heroine  barred  their  passage  for  an  instant,  and  then  she 
•was  stricken  down  without  pity. 

Patience  Rawlins  had  given  her  life  in  vain  for  her 
loved  ones. 

The  savages,  in  too  great  haste  to  destroy  the  building, 
rushed  forth  to  attack  the  home  of  Samuel  Rawlius. 

This,  fortunately,  they  found  deserted,  and  with  their 
captives  they  beat  a  hasty  retreat,  probably  fearing  the 
members  of  the  garrisoned  houses  would  sally  out  to  give 
them  battle. 

Meanwhile  those  in  the  fortified  buildings  awaited  an 
attack.  It  was  believed,  from  the  rapid  discharge  of  mus- 
ketry during  the  assault  in  which  Patience  was  mur- 
dered, that  the  enemy  were  present  in  very  large  force, 
and  among  them  all  was  no  man  so  brave  as  the  twelve- 
year-old  girl,  since  not  one  attempted  to  aid  his  suffering 
neighbor. 

At  break  of  day,  when  it  was  positive  the  enemy  had 
fled,  the  inhabitants  of  the  block-house  ventured  forth, 
and  found  Mr.  Rawlins  yet  alive,  despite  his  grievous 
wounds.  He  lived  sufficiently  long  to  tell  the  story 
which  is  here  set  down  so  feebly,  and  then  his  soul  went 
out  to  join  the  heroic  daughter's. 

Four  years  later,  when  the  flowers  were  blooming- 
above  the  graves  which  alone  marked  the  site  of  Aaron 
Rawlins's  home,  the  mother  returned.  She  had  been 
ransomed  by  some  charitable  people  of  Montreal,  and 
•came  back  eagerly  anticipating  a  meeting  with  her  hus- 
band and  child. 

Thomas,  the  son  who  had  been  captured,  was  adopted 
by  the  Indians  and  the  historian  Jeremy  Belknap  says: 
"He  lived  with  them  all  his  days;  he  came  to  Penny- 
cook  with  the  Indians  after  the  peace,  and  expressed  to 
some  people  with  whom  he  conversed  much  resentment 
against  his  uncle,  Samuel  Rawlins,  on  supposing  he  had 
detained  from  his  mother  some  property  left  by  his  father, 
but  manifested  no  desire  of  returning  to  Newmarket 
again.  The  daughter  (Mary)  married  with  a  Frenchman, 
and  when  she  was  near  sixty  years  old  returned  with  her 
husband  to  her  native  place.  .  .  and  after  a  year  or  two 
went  back  to  Canada." 


ENVELOPE   PHOTOG  KAPH-FRAMES. 

IF  you  are — and  who  isn't? — bothered  to  know  what  to  make 
for  birthday  presents,  here  are  some  suggestions  that  can  be 
quickly  and  easily  carried  out. 

A  fifteen-cent  bottle  of  gold  enamel,  a  bolt  of  daisy  ribbou, 
and  a  package  of  envelopes  will  supply  material  for  gifts  to 
each  member  of  the  family;  or  if  the  household  should  tiud  this 
plan  somewhat  monotonous,  your  girl  friends  will  prove  more 
appreciative.  Indeed,  nothing  could  be  prettier  or  more  appro- 
priate to  a  girl's  room  than  a  panel  of  white  and  gold  framing 
fresh  young  faces,  or  a  screen  in  two  or  three  sections  decora- 
ted with  dogroses,  lilacs,  marguerites,  etc.,  and  enclosing  copies 
of  good  paintings. 

Slip  into  au  envelope  a  bit  of  card-board  to  hold  the  paper 
steady.  Trace  with  a  peucil  in  the  middle  of  the  envelope  a 
square,  oval,  or  circle  large  enough  to  show  the  photograph 
well.  Draw  two  lines  diagonally  through  this  so  that  they 
cross  each  other  in  the  middle  like  the  letter  X. 


Insert  a  pair  of  sharp  pointed  scissors  at  the  point  where  the 
lines  cross  and  cut  aloug  the  pencil  marks  so  that  you  have 
four  pointed  flaps.  Turn  these  back, 'creasing  them  lightly  in 
position  around  the  four  sides  of  the  opening.  Nick  the  edges 
of  the  flaps  very  slightly — just  enough  to  yive  a  rough  appear- 
ance— and  gild  them  all  over. 

Dab  gold  enamel  about  the  envelope  ill  a  systematically  care- 
less fashion,  or  paint  a  flower  design  and  simply  dabble  the 
edges  with  gold. 

For  a  panel  tie  together,  lengthwise,  anywhere  from  four  to 
six  envelopes,  using  daisy  rihbou  for  the  purpose.  For  cabinet 


picture-frames  No.  1£  ribbon  is  best;  for  smaller  envelopes,  No. 
1  is  sufficiently  wide. 

Slip  the  photographs  in,  and  seal  the  envelopes  as  you  would 
over  a  letter. 

These  fragile-looking  frames  are  really  very  durable,  lasting 
quite  as  long  as  the  colors  of  (lie  pictures  they  enclose.  By 
usinj;  envelopes  of  different  sizes,  and  rolling  the  centres  back 
round,  square,  or  oblong,  a  variety  of  shapes  and  styles  can  be 
produced;  and  of  course  any  shade  of  ribbon  is  pretty — blue  for 
forget-me-nots,  pink  for  wild  roses,  lavender  with  violets,  and 
delicate  green  with  marguerites.  Where  only  decorated  with 
gold,  however,  cream  white  is  most  effective.  The  panels  may  be 
linished  at  the  top  with  small  brass  rings  and  ribbon  wound 
through  them,  or  with  either  alone,  to  hang  them  up  by. 


THE  STKANGE 


ADVENTURES 
TODDLES. 


OF  TOMMY 


BY    ALBERT    LEE. 
CHAPTER   VI. 

THIS  was  an  easy  matter  this  time,  because  there  was  the 
Welsh  Rabbit  there  to  talk  about.  Tommy  looked  at  the 
strange  creature  and  SKI  id, 

"  Is  he  poor  too  ?" 

The  ex-Pirate  laughed  out  loud.  "  No,"  he  replied ;  "  he's  very 
rich.  He  is  one  of  the  richest  things  I  know." 

"Then  he  does  not  live  here  ?"  continued  Tommy,  pointing 
toward  the  Poor  House. 

"No, indeed.  He  has  a  stock  farm  down  the  road,  where  he 
raises  all  sorts  of  queer  animals.  He  comes  here  occasionally  to 
give  us  things." 

"What  does  he  give  you  ?" 

"He  usually  gives  me  a  night  man-."  answered  the  ex-Pirate. 

"A  night  mare  ?" 

"Yes;  he  raises  them  on  his  stock  farm." 

Tommy  was  about,  to  ask  what  sort  of  an  animal  a  night  mare 
was  but  the  Welsh  Rabbit  had  come  so  close  to  them  by  this 
time  that  his  two  companions  turned  toward  the  visitor  and 
wished  him  good-day  most  cordially. 

"Good-night, "replied  the  Welsh  Rabbit,  bluntly. 

"But  it  is  not  night,"  said  Tommy:  whereupon  the  Sheep 
pulled  his  coat  sleeve  abruptly,  and  whispered  : 

"Don't  talk  like  that.  The  Welsh  Rabbit,  wants  to  be  polite. 
He  does  not  often  wish  one 'good  night.'  Say  something  nice-  to 
him  now." 


224 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


THE  WELSH  RABBIT  LAUGHED  UNTIL  THE  CHEESE  OF  HIS  BACK  FAIRLY  BUBBLED. 


Tommy  couldn't  think  of  anything  particularly  polite  to  say 
right  on  the  spur  of  tlie  moment,  so  he  naturally  spoke  of  what 
was  uppermost  in  his  mind: 

"  Have  you  seen  my  animals.  Sir.  Welsh  Rabbit  f" 

"  No,  I  have  not,"  answered  the  Welsh  Rabbit.  "Have  you 
seen  mine  ?" 

"No;  have  you  lost  yours?" 

"No,  indeed!"  and  the  Welsh  Rabbit  laughed  until  the  cheese 
of  his  back  fairly  bubbled  over  with  mirth.  "  Would  you  like  to 
see  my  animals  ?" 

"I  don't  know,"  replied  Tommy,  for  the  Sheep  was  tugging 
at  his  coat  sleeve  again.  "  What  are  they  like  ?'' 

"  I  can  show  yon  all  kinds,"  answered  the  Welsh  Rabbit,  pat- 
ronizingly. "  There  are  green  monkeys  with  pink  tails,  yellow 
rats  with  purple  eyes,  cerulean  dragons  with  crimson  claws, 
and  blue  elephants  with  five  legs  and  lavender  tails." 

"Oh  in}1!"  gasped  Tommy;  "but  I  never  heard  of  any  s'.'.ch  ani- 
mals as  those.  I  don't  think  I  want  to  see  them,  but  you  were 
very  kind  to  offer  to  show  them  to  me." 

"Don't  mention  it, ''replied  the  Welsh  Rabbit,  waving  his  toast 
ears  lazily  ;  "  I  will  show  them  to  you  some  other  day,  whether 
you  want  to  see  them  or  not." 

Tommy  did  not  quite  understand  how  this  would  happen,  but 
he  did  not  say  anything,  because  the  Sheep  was  persistently 
pulling  at  his  coat  sleeve.  Both  he  and  the  ex-Pirate  seemed  to 
be  very  much  in  awe  of  the  Welsh  Rabbit,  who  appeared  to 
Tommy  like  such  a  mild  and  good-natured  creature. 

The  Reformed  Burglar  had  now  almost  finished  painting  the 
side  of  the  Poor  House,  and  he  came  up  and  joined  the  others. 

"  How  do  you  like  that  color  ?"  he  asked  of  the  Welsh  Rabbit. 

"What  color?" 

"  The  color  of  this  side  of  the  house." 

"It  reminds  me  of  tomato  catsup,"  said  the  Welsh  Rabbit, 
after  having  glanced  at  the  red  side  of  the  Poor  House.  "And 
you  know  I  don't  like  tomato  catsup.'' 

''I  think  you  will  agree  with  me  when  I  say  that  the  house 
should  have  been  painted  black,"  put  in  the  ex-Pirate. 

"  Xii,  indeed,"  said  the  Welsh  Rabbit ;  "  I  disagree  with  you." 

'•  You  always  do,"  retorted  the  ex-Pirate,  with  unexpected  as- 
perity. 

"Especially  at  night," added  the  Reformed  Burglar,  and  then 
it  began  to  look  as  if  something  serious  was  going  to  happen. 
But  fortunately  the  Welsh  Rabbit  merely  waved  his  toast  ears 
a  bit,  and  then  waddled  off  clown  the  road  without  saying  a 
word  of  farewell  to  any  of  them. 

"He's  that,  way,"  said  the  ex-Pirate  to  Tommy,  iu  the  same 
apologetic  tone  he  had  formerly  used  with  regard  to  the  Re- 
formed Burglar.  "Sometimes  he's  right  agreeable,  and  some- 
times he's  right  disagreeable.  He's  mostly  disagreeable.'' 


Tommy  watched  the  Welsh  Rabbit  as  he 
ambled  off  toward  the  shore  of  the  lake,  like 
a  huge  yellow  ball,  leaving  a  savory  odor 
of  cheese  behind  him.  When  the  queer 
creature  finally  disappeared  among  the  trees, 
the  little  boy  turned  to  the  others: 

"What  peculiar  animals  he  must  have!" 
he  said. 

"Very  peculiar  sometimes,"  remarked  the 
Reformed  Burglar. 

"  Where  does  he  keep  them  ?" 
"On  his  farm,"  said  the  ex-Pirate. 
"I'd  like  to  see  them,"  ventured  Tommy. 
"  You  will  some  day." 
"I  never  heard  of  a  blue  elephant  with 
five  legs  and  a  lavender  tail,"  continued  the 
little  boy.     "  Has  he  got  many  of  those  ?" 

"No;  most  of  his  animals  are  bug-bears. 
But  he  has  a  lot  of  night  mares,  and  he 
gives  them  to  lots  of  people." 

"  Would  he  give  me  a  night  mare  ?"  asked 
Tommy. 

"I  reckon  he  would,"  said  the  Reformed 
Burglar,  with  a  broad  smile,  for  he  seemed 
to  be 'enjoy  ing  the  little  boy's  questions  im- 
mensely. "But  I  don't  think  you  would 
like  it." 

"I  don't  think  you  would  either,"  added 
the  Sheep. 

"Perhaps  'I  wouldn't"  said  Tommy, 
thoughtfully;  "but  I  would  like  to  have 
my  own  animals.  Have  you  seen  them  pass 
this  way,  Mr.  Pirate  ?" 

"No  animals  have  passed  this  way  to-day,"  answered  the  ex- 
Pirate,  "  but  we  can  go  up  on  the  hill  and  look  around,  and  from 
there  perhaps  we  can  see  where  they  are." 

"  That's  so  !"  exclaimed  the  Sheep  ;  "  I  never  thought  of  that. 
Let's  go  up  on  the  hill." 

"  I  would  like  very  much  to  go  with  you,"  said  the  ex-Pirate, 
meekly. 

"  All  right,  come  along,"  answered  Tommy.     "  And  won't  you 
come  too,  Mr.  Bill  ?"  he  added,  turning  to  the  Reformed  Burglar. 
"No;  I  can't.     I  must  paint.     But  I  think  I  can  guess  where 
your  animals  went  to." 

"  Where  ?"  asked  Tommy,  eagerly. 

"I  guess  they  went  to  the  fight.  All  the  other  animals  went. 
That's  why  you  don't  see  any  about  here." 

"  But  we  saw  the  Loon  and  the  Welsh  Rabbit,"  objected 
Tommy. 

"Oh,  they  don't  count,"  put  in  the  ex-Pirate.  "The  Loon  is 
crazy  and  don't  know  what  is  going  on,  and  the  Welsh  Rabbit 
never  attends  fights.  He's  too  soft." 

"I  did  not  know  the  fight  was  to  be  to-day,"  remarked  the 
Sheep,  iu  a  tone  of  surprise. 

"  Certainly,  it's  to  be  to-day,"  asserted  the  Reformed  Burglar. 
"But  it's  probably  all  over  with  by  this  time." 

•'  Well,  let's  go  to  the  hill  anyway,"  said  the  ex-Pirate.  "  From 
the  summit  we  can  see  as  far  as  the  beach,  and  we  can  easily 
tell  if  there  are  any  animals  there." 

So  they  bade  good-by  to  the  Reformed  Burglar,  \\lio  returned 
to  his  pots  and  brushes,  and  Tommy,  the  ex-Pirate,  and  the 
Sheep  started  off  on  the  road  which  led  to  the  hill. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


MADGE'S   FIB. 

"I  NEVER  told  a  fib  but  once,"  said  little  Madge,  "and  that 
was  yesterday." 

"What?     Yon  told  a  fib?" 

"  Yes.  My  teacher  asked  me  what  C'-A-T  spelled,  and  I  said 
dorg." 


EXPLAINED. 
"  WHAT  on  earth  are  you  doing  with  that  little  watering  can, 


Tom 


"  Spwiukliug  the  baby's  head  so's  his  hair '11  sprout.'1 


AN  EXPLANATION. 

"  WHY  didn't  you  answer  .\  our  teacher  when  she  spoke  to  you 
ill  the  arithmetic  class,  Ethel  ?" 

••'('»•/.  mamma  told  me  I  muthu't  thpeak  duriu'  thehool 
hourth." 


_HARPE 

YOUNG  PEOPLE 


Copyright,  1895,  by  HAHPKK  &   BaoTHKas.     All  Rigbts  Reserved. 


PUBLISHED    WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI.— NO.  796. 


NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY,  JANUARY  29,  1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO   DOLLAKS   A    TEAR. 


THE     LOOHINQ     FALLS     AIR=LINE     EXPRESS. 

BY     JAMES     BARNES. 


TM1E  president  of  the  Monckton  Bank  sat  at  his  office 
window  looking  out  into  the  storm.  It  was  not 
blowing  as  hard  as  it  had  been  earlier  in  the  day,  but  the 
drifts  were  piled  up  on  the  east  side  of  the  street  on  a 
level  with  the  windows,  and  only  the  tops  of  the  hitching 
posts  showed  here  and  there  to  mark  the  sidewalk.  It 
was  too  cold  for  snow  to  fall  now,  but  the  wind  blew  the 


tops  of  the  curling  drifts  out  into  clouds  of  hissing  icy 
spray.  The  air  was  full  of  it;  it  showered  against  the 
window  before  the  president's  eyes,  and,  owing  to  the 
heat  within  the  room,  ran  down  in  little  wriggling 
streams,  freezing  at  the  bottom  into  a  mass  of  solid  ice 
that  was  slowly  climbing  the  pane.  In  a  few  min- 
utes the  president  would  not  be  able  to  look  at  the  ghost- 
ly trees  in  the  little  park  before  the  building. 


226 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


Not  a  train  had  readied  Monckton  for  eighteen  hours; 
the  telegraph  had  reported  monstrous  drifts  along  the 
railroad.  The  blizzard  had  killed  all  traffic.  It  was 
strange  that  the  wires  were  not  all  down,  but  the  heavy 
long-distance  telephone  line  was  still  open,  for  the  bell 
rang  suddenly,  and  the  president  hurried  across  the 
room. 

"Hullo!  Is  that  you,  George?"  he  asked,  anxiously. 
"How  goes  it?" 

"  Yes,  it's  I,"  came  the  answer,  clear  and  plain,  in  the 
president's  ear.  "The  run  has  continued  all  day  long 
despite  the  storm ;  the  corridor  of  the  court-house  has  been 
full  of  people.  It  is  rumored  about  the  town  that  the 
bank  is  going  to  fail.  The  Lumberman's  Bank  went  up 
at  one  o'clock." 

"Well,"  said  the  president,  "can  you  tide  it  over?" 

"  No,"  replied  the  voice,  "  we  can't,  to  save  our  lives. 
There  is  but  two  thousand  dollars  in  the  vaults.  It  is 
past  bank  hours  now,  but  in  the  morning,  if  the  run  con- 
tinues, we  will  have  to  suspend.  Can  you  reach  us  with 
funds?" 

The  president  groaned.  It  was  his  brother  who  was 
•speaking  to  him  —  the  cashier  of  the  branch  bank  at 
Looming  Falls,  sixty  miles  down  the  river.  The  failure 
of  one  bank  might  mean  ruin  to  both.  There  was  rea- 
son for  the  president  to  groan. 

"The  railroad  is  blocked,"  said  the  president,  speaking 
slowly  into  the  receiver.  "I  have  been  hoping  for  a 
train  all  day.  We  have  enough  money  here  to  help 
you,"  he  added,  hopelessly,  "but  what  good  is  that?" 

"Can't  you  drive  through?"  came  the  answer,  in  an 
imploring  tone. 

"I  doubt  it;  the  road  is  bare  in  places,  and  drifted 
breast-high  in  others,"  said  the  pale  man  at  the  tele- 
phone. "  But  I  will  see  what  I  can  do.  I  will  call  you 
up  in  fifteen  minutes." 

The  president's  voice  had  a  tremble  in  it.  There  was 
fright  in  his  eyes. 

He  turned  and  opened  the  door  leading  into  the  bank. 
It  was  growing  quite  dark,  and  a  lamp  was  burning  at  a 
desk  inside  the  brass  railings.  Bending  over  the  big 
ledger  was  a  tall,  thin  man,  with  a  bald  head  and  a  pen 
behind  his  ear.  He  looked  up  as  the  president  entered, 
and  touched  his  bald  head  with  an  ink-stained  finger. 

"Any  good  news,  Mr.  Carter?"  he  asked,  quickly. 

"No,  Spence;  bad  news,  bad  news,"  returned  the  old- 
er man.  "  I  don't  see  that  we  can  help."  Then  he  told 
of  the  conversation  over  the  telephone,  word  for  word. 
"It  was  most  deplorable." 

"Send  for  Prouty,"  suggested  the  bald-headed  man. 
"  If  any  one  can  drive  you  through,  he  can  do  it." 

"  Go  fetch  him,  Spence,  and  hurry  back,"  said  Mr.  Car- 
ter, with  a  gleam  of  hope.  "  But  speak  to  no  one  else," 
he  added.  "We  must  not  let  a  single  person  know." 

The  cashier  picked  up  his  coat,  drew  on  his  great 
felt  moccasins,  and,  unlocking  the  front  door,  strode  out 
through  the  drift  into  the  street.  The  president  of  the 
Monckton  Bank  climbed  upon  a  high  stool  and  swung 
himself  nervously  to  and  fro.  Just  then  a  movement 
near  the  large  stove  in  the  back  of  the  room  made  him 
spin  about.  He  coughed  nervously. 

"Hullo,  Adam, "he  said,  "you  here  yet?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Carter,"  answered  a  strong  young  voice. 
"I've  been  helping  Mr.  Spence  on  the  books  to-day,  sir." 

A  tall,  compactly  built  lad  of  fifteen  stood  up  as  Mr. 
Carter  walked  back  toward  the  stove,  and  waited  for  the 
president  to  speak.  But  the  latter  said  nothing,  and  only 
extended  his  hands  towards  the  fire  as  if  he  felt  the  cold 
wind  that  was  rattling  the  heavy  iron  shutters.  The  boy 
sat  down  again  and  followed  a  column  of  figures  with 
his  finger. 

Adam  Buel  had  come  into  the  bank  as  an  office-boy 
some  three  years  previously,  and  by  hard  work  and  con- 


stant application  he  had  risen  to  be  a  junior  clerk,  an 
excellent  position  for  one  of  his  years  and  short  experi- 
ence. He  was  the  second  son.  of  Buel  the  carpenter, 
down  on  River  Street,  and  his  father  was  prone  to  boast 
of  "my  son  up  to  the  bank,"  and  considered  that,  next 
to  the  huge  safe,  he  was  the  most  important  part  of 
Monckton's  banking  interests. 

Mr.  Carter  had  never  noticed  him  especially,  regard- 
ing him  as  a  good  lad  who  was  steady  and  could  be 
trusted.  But  it  was  only  right  to  expect  this  much,  he 
reasoned,  from  one  in  his  employ.  So  he  said  nothing, 
but  stood  there  with  his  hands  behind  his  back  awaiting 
Spence's  return,  watching  the  door  closely,  and  glancing 
at  the  clock  now  and  then,  for  every  minute  counted. 

Soon  the  latch  clicked  loudly,  and  Adam,  jumping  up, 
admitted  the  cashier  and  a  burly  figure  in  a  buffalo  over- 
coat. The  two  brought  in  with  them  a  blast  of  chilling 
air.  When  the  door  wa's  shut  they  both  stamped  loudly 
on  the  floor,  kicking  the  snow  from  their  feet  and  brush- 
ing it  off  their  coat  sleeves. 

"Prouty,"  said  Mr.  Carter,  advancing,  and  coming  to 
the  point  at  once,  "can  you  drive  through  to  Looming 
Falls  to-night?" 

"To  Looming  Falls!  yer  joking,  ain't  yer?"  the  driver 
exclaimed  in  a  thick  voice,  leaning  one  heavy  hand  on 
the  brass  lattice-work  of  the  paying-teller's  cage.  "  'Tain't 
no  use  attempting  it;  ye  couldn't  do  it,  no  horses  could 
do  it,  no  man  could  do  it.  No,  sir!  I  tell  ye  what's 
fact,"  he  went  on.  "Not  all  th'  money  in  this  bank  "- 
here  Mr.  Prouty  waved  one  great  arm  around  his  head — 
"could  get  ye  to  the  Falls  'fore  they  mended  the  bridge. 
It  come  down  'bout  one  o'clock,  and  it'd  take  a  hull  day 
ter  break  through  t'other  side  o'  Hank  Morris;  he  come 
in  on  snowshoes  this  arternoon." 

It  was  useless  to  talk  further,  although  Prouty  was 
willing  to  be  voluble  enough,  and  continued  to  explain, 
so  Mr.  Carter  went  slowly  back  into  his  private  office, 
and.  paler  than  ever,  walked  up  to  the  telephone.  Once, 
twice,  three  times,  he  tried  the  bell,  then  he  hung  up  the 
receiver — the  connection  was  broken.  A  feeling  of  hope- 
lessness came  over  him,  and  he  threw  himself  into  his 
big  leather  chair.  Nothing  could  be  done.  The  failure 
of  the  Lumberman's  Bank  would  only  hasten  matters. 
People  grow  distrustful  quickly;  he  doubted  really  if  he 
could  meet  a  run  of  the  Monckton  depositors  here  at 
home  if  they  became  uneasy;  there  was  no  telling  what 
might  happen;  he  had  paid  out  large  sums  to  the  lumber 
companies  for  their  monthly  pay-roll  two  days  before, 
and  had  made  two  or  three  big  loans  that  were  safe 
enough,  only  in  this  weather,  with  the  roads  snowed  up, 
he  could  get  no  money  in.  There  was  nothing  for 
him  to  do  but  sit  there  and  wait;  he  could  not  even 
speak  about  it  and  try  to  head  it  off.  Luckily  no  one 
could  learn  for  some  time  of  the  turn  of  affairs  at  Loom- 
ing Falls.  If  he  could  save  the  branch  bank  the  ruin 
might  be  averted.  But — 

As  the  president  raised  his  head  he  saw  that  some  one 
had  entered  the  room.  It  was  Adam  Buel.  He  stood 
there  respectfully,  then  he  took  a  step  nearer. 

"Mr.  Carter,"  he  said,  "I  think  I  can  get  you  to 
Looming  Falls  to-night." 

II. 

At  nine  o'clock  it  was  yet  blowing  strong  from  the 
northwest,  the  thermometer  showed  the  appalling  cold 
to  be  twelve  below  zero,  the  snow  was  yet  swirling  about 
the  corners  and  clinging  to  trunks  of  the  trees  in  the 
little  park.  No  one  was  011  the  street,  but  the  moon  was 
up  and  the  dark  blue  of  the  sky  sparkled  with  its  host  of 
stars. 

The  two  watchmen  of  Monckton  had  found  a  warm 
corner  in  the  engine-room  of  the  new  electric-light  plant, 
but  if  they  had  been  where  they  could  see  the  rear  entrance 


JANUARY  29,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


227 


of  the  bank  building,  they  would  have  been  astonished. 
Four  figures  muffled  to  the  eyes  were  carrying  two  heavy 
travelling-bags  down  the  back  steps  and  out  into  the 
yard.  A  few  minutes  later  three  figures  emerged  from 
the  alleyway  into  the  street;  they  were  pulling  behind 
them  two  strongly  built  baud  sleds.  The  fourth  figure 
had  gone  back  into  the  building  and  locked  the  door 
behind  him.  On  the  two  sleds  were  the  travelling-bags 
securely  tied.  The  snow  crunched  and  whistled  under 
their  feet  as  the  three  fought  their  way  against  the  wind 
down  towards  the  river. 

"  Where  have  you  got  her,  Amos  ?"  gasped  the  small- 
est, turning  his  back  to  the  wind. 

"Down  behind  the  boat-house,"  came  the  answer. 
"We'll  be  there  in  five  minutes."  They  plunged  along 
without  speaking  for  some  time. 

"Phew!  look  at  that,  Adam,"  suddenly  exclaimed  a 
voice;  the  third  and  largest  figure  stopped.  Just  as 
they  had  turned  the  corner  the  river  had  cotne  in  sight. 
There  it  lay  in  the  moonlight,  black  gleaming  ice,  here 
and  there  crossed  by  a  drift  of  glistening  snow.  The  ice 
spray  blew  down  its  length  in  clouds  like  smoke  as  the 
wind  puffs  struck  the  drifts. 

"Boys,  it's  blowing  out  there,"  went  on  the  last 
speaker.  "Do  you  think  we'd  better  try  it?" 

"I  think  we  can  do  it,  Mr.  Carter,"  spoke  up  Amos 
Buel,  Adam's  older  brother.  "  The  ice  would  almost 
hold  a  horse  this  afternoon,  and  it's  growing  thicker 
every  minute." 

The  trio  crossed  River  Street,  and  half  slid  down  the 
bank  to  the  edge  of  the  retaining  wall.  A  few  rods  to 
the  north  was  a  stone  pier  that  extended  from  the  shore, 
and  in  the  lee  of  the  building  that  occupied  one  side-  was 
a  strange  spidery-looking  craft  tied  to  a  pier  head.  It 
was  the  first  and  at  that  time  the  only  one  of  its  kind  in 
Monckton. 

"Amos  built  it  after  one  he  saw  on  the  Hudson  when 
he  went  East  last  winter,"  said  Adam  to  Mr.  Carter. 
"  He  can  handle  her  all  right." 

Amos,  although  only  seventeen,  was  a  carpenter  like 
his  father,  but  he  had  given  "more  attention  to  making 
gimcracks  than  shingling  roofs,"  as  the  elder  Buel  had 
once  expressed  it.  This  ice-boat  was  the  latest,  and  as  if 
to  make  true  the  paternal  saying  he  had  named  her  the 
Jimcrack. 

"  Ever  been  out  in  a  blow  like  this,  Amos?"  anxiously 
inquired  Mr.  Carter,  as  the  boys  were  tying  the  bags  and 
sleds  also  tight  to  the  little  platform  near  the  tiller  that 
answered  the  purpose  of  a  deck. 

"  No,  sir,"  promptly  answered  the  older  boy,  "but  the 
wind  is  just  right  for  going  down  the  river.  I  think  it's 
safe  enough.  We'll  reef  down  tight." 

Mr.  Carter  noticed  that  two  pairs  of  skates  were  lashed 
to  a  bolt  at  the  stern.  He  made  no  remark,  however, 
for  at  this  moment  the  sail  was  raised,  and  Amos  had 
made  his  way  aft  and  grasped  the  tiller.  There  was  just 
room  for  the  three,  together  with  the  bags  and  sleds,  on 
the  little  platform.  Mr.  Carter  looked  at  his  watch. 

"Lie  close  and  hold  hard!"  shouted  Amos,  suddenly. 

They  had  been  creeping  along  slowly  under  the  lee  of 
the  long  boat-house,  but  just  as  the  shout  of  warning 
came  they  struck  the  wind. 

For  an  instant  they  slewed,  then  the  little  mainsail 
caught,  and  they  seemed  to  rise  like  a  rocket.  Probably 
nothing  in  the  world  gets  full  speed  on  so  quickly  as  an 
ice-boat.  Mr.  Carter  held  his  breath  as  they  made 
straight  for  the  middle  of  the  river.  The  starboard  out- 
rigger rose  high  in  the  air  off  the  ice,  and  the  heel  of  the 
sharp  steering -blade  shrieked  like  a  noonday  whistle. 
Faster  and  faster  they  went ;  the  wind  seemed  to  be  going 
down  somewhat  as  they  got  it  more  astern.  A  wide  white 
drift  stretched  ahead ;  in  a  second  they  were  on  it.  Paflf ! 
How  the  snow  flew  and  shimmered  in  the  moonlight! 


The  shock  nearly  took  out  the  stout  pine  mast  and  slid 
the  crew  of  the  Jimcrack  up  in  a  heap  on  the  two  sleds; 
but  they  held  on  tightly  and  got  safely  through.  What 
house  was  that  on  shore,  close  to  the  edge  of  the  dark 
pines? 

"There's  Moore's!"  shouted  Amos.  It  was  the  first 
time  any  one  had  spoken  since  the  jump  into  the 
gale. 

Mr.  Carter  rolled  over  on  one  side  and  managed  to 
glance  at  his  watch  ;  so  bright  was  the  moonlight  that  he 
could  make  out  the  hands  plainly.  Two  miles  inside  of  three 
minutes! — and  the  speed  still  on  the  gain,  it  seemed.  On 
and  on,  now  slowing  up  a  little  and  then  shooting  along 
through  a  cloud  of  flying  icy  mist.  They  kept  more  to 
the  north  side  now,  fearing  the  ice  in  the  middle  of  the 
river. 

"  Jimtown,"  called  Adam.  A  few  lights  shone  on  the 
bank. 

Mr.  Carter  again  looked  at  his  watch.  Thirty-two  miles 
in  a  fraction  over  forty-five  minutes! 

But  now  the  course  of  the  river  changed  a  little,  and 
the  wind  was  perceptibly  lessening.  Besides,  the  direc- 
tion of  the  wind  maikes  a  great  difference  in  an  ice-boat's 
speed.  The  Jimcrack  settled  down  to  a  steady  gait  of 
about  ten  miles  an  hour,  varied  by  sudden  bursts  of  rapid 
flight.  It  was  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  they 
struck  Small's  Point,  eight  miles  on  a  straight  line  from 
Looming  Falls,  but  thirteen  by  the  river,  and  here  they 
met  trouble. 

How  it  happened  that  Amos  did  not  see  the  great  log 
that  was  frozen  in  the  ice  was  never  explained,  but  there 
was  a  thump,  a  sharp  snap,  and  the  port  runner  broke 
short  off;  one  of  the  bags  chinked  oddly  as  the  contents 
of  the  platform  were  hurled  in  all  directions.  No  one 
was  hurt,  but  there  was  no  more  sailing.  The  river  for 
a  mile  ahead  was  a  mass  of  logs  and  drift.  The  boys 
put  on  their  skates,  and  managed  to  get  the  wreck  ashore. 
Then  the  struggle  began  ;  for  hours  they  floundered 
through  the  deep  snow  in  the  woods  trying  to  cross  the 
Point;  they  lost  their  way.  and  poor  Mr.  Carter  was  al- 
most in  despair  when  the  river  came  in  sight  again.  It 
was  broad  daylight  by  this  time,  and  five  miles  off  they 
could  see  the  steeples  and  chimneys  of  the  Falls.  The 
bank  president,  nearly  dead  from  fatigue,  was  loaded  on 
Ainos's  sled,  while  Adam  drew  the  one  with  the  heavy 
bag.  It  is  not  every  boy  who  has  dragged  thirteen  thou- 
sand dollars  in  gold  and  silver  on  an  ordinary  hand-sled, 
but  Adam  did  that  day.  The  other  bag  held  bills  of  large 
denominations. 

"  We  must  hurry, "said  Mr.  Carter  to  the  panting  boys. 
They  skated  faster. 

There  was  a  crowd  waiting  for  the  bank  to  open.  In 
a  few  minutes  there  would  be  a  sign  out  announcing  fail- 
ure. The  people  were  excited  ;  some  had  been  in  line 
all  night  despite  the  cold,  when  the  rescue  party  came  up 
the  street. 

"  Where  did  you  come  from?  How  did  you  get  here?" 
gasped  the  cashier,  as  the  boys  dragged  the  sled  right  in 
on  the  floor  of  the  private  office. 

"  By  the  Looming  Falls  Air-line  Express,"  said  Mr. 
Carter.  "  Allow  me  to  introduce  you  to  the  engineer, 
fireman,  president,  treasurer,  and  board  of  directors." 
He  indicated  the  tired  boys.  "They  both  are  depositors 
to  the  extent  of  three  hundred  apiece,  and  this  young 
gentleman  is  our  new  paying-teller,"  went  on  the  presi- 
dent. "We  just  arrived  in  time.  George." 

"Yes,"  returned  the  cashier,  "just  in  time."  And  he 
held  Amos  and  Adam  by  the  hands  for  quite  a  min- 
ute. 

Now  such  a  strange  thing  is  human  nature  that  when 
the  depositors  found  out  that  there  was  plenty  of  money 
then  they  did  not  want  it,  and  the  run  stopped  at  once. 
The  bank  was  saved. 


228 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


AT   THE   BROWNIE   PLAY. 

BY    JOHN    KENDRICK    BANGS. 

IT  really  seemed  almost  too  good  to  be  true,  and  yet 
it  was  true.  Mr.  Palmer  Cox  had  written  a  play  in 
which  real  flesh-and-blood  Brownies  should  appear  and 
sing  funny  songs,  which  Mr.  Malcolm  Douglas  had  set 
to  music,  just  as  the  newspapers  said.  And  it  was  said 
further,  and  with  equal  truth,  that  there  were  to  be  fairies 
and  dragons  and  giants,  and  all  sorts  of  fairy-book  crea- 
tures iu  the  play  besides— as  if  the  Brownies  alone  weren't 
enough  for  any  reasonable  child,  and  of  course  Master 
Jimmieboy  had  to  go  and  see  the  wonderful  things  the 
fairies  and  Brownies  and  giants  did.  Such  an  oppor- 
tunity to  set  his  eyes  on  living  Brownies,  instead  of  as 
usual  upon  pictures  of  them,  might  never  occur  again, 
and  to  miss  it  would  be  most  unfortunate;  indeed,  as  Mr. 
Cox  himself  might  have  written, 

When  there's  to  be  a  Brownie  play, 
What  boy  would  wish  to  stay  away  ? 
What  boy  of  sense  would  say,  "  Oh  no  ! 
I  do  not  think  I'd  care  to  go?" 

Certainly  Jimmieboy  was  not  such  a  lad,  and  the  con- 
sequence was  that  his  father  had  very  little  peace  until 
he  had  not  only  consented  that  Jimmieboy  should  go, 
but  had  promised  to  go  along  himself  to  protect  his  son 
in  case  any  of  the  dragons  or  giants  should  get  loose,  and 
try  to  jump  down  in  the  audience  and  breathe  fire  on 
Jimmieboy's  new  clothes,  or  bite  his  leg  off.  Not  that 
this  was  at  all  likely  to  happen,  but  that  it  is  well  always 
to  be  prepared  for  all  sorts  of  accidents,  and  especially 
for  those  you'd  least  expect.  The  little  Dude  Brownie 
has  never  said  it,  but  he  would  probably  agree 

that  it  would  be  a  dreadful  thing 
If  some  great  fiery  dragon  king, 
When  some  small  boy  should  laugh  or  scoff, 
Should  bite  his  left  leg  wholly  off, 

and  Jimmieboy  for  that  reason  thought  it  just  as  well  to 
have  a  defender  like  his  father  along,  who  could  be 
counted  upon 

To  take  the  dragon  by  the  feet 

And  cast  him  out  upon  the  street, 

Or  grab  the  giant  by  the  hair 

And  toss  him  high  up  in  the  air, 

In  case  they  had  a  fit  of  rage, 

And  took  a  leap  down  off  the  stage 

To  punish  boys  who'd  laugh  and  hoot 

By  breathing  on  their  Sunday  suit. 

He  didn't  know  that  Mr.  Cox  had  fixed  all  that  by 
writing  such  a  play,  that  in  the  end  the  Brownies  and  the 
good  fairies  could  control  the  giants  and  dragons  so  that 


"HONEST    INJUN." 


THE    ARRIVAL    OF    THE    KING    OF    THE    BROIVMKS. 


any  little  boy  or  girl  in 
the  audience  could  say  or 
do  anything-  he  or  she 
pleased  in  perfect  safety. 
His  father  kne\v  it,  how- 
ever, and  so  was  quite 
willing  to  go  and  risk  his 
life  to  protect  any  one 
or  every  one  from  any- 
thing unpleasant  that 
might  happen,  so  the  two 
got  aboard  an  elevated 
train  and  went  down  to 
Fourteenth  Street,  made 
their  way  through  the 
great  crowd  of  shoppers, 
and  entered  the  theatre 
where  the  Brownies  were 
to  be  seen. 

While  Jimmieboy's  fa- 
ther was  buying  the 
tickets,  Jimmieboy  stood 
in  a  corner  waiting,  and 
another  little  boy  looked 
at  him  very  curiously  for 
a  minute  as  he  stood 
there,  and  then  turning 
to  his  mother,  he  cried 
out,  in  a  little  piping 
voice, 

"Say,  mar,  I  guess  that's  one  of  'em.  ain't  it?" 

And  then  everybody  laughed,  but  Jimmieboy  didn't 
know  what  at,  for  though  he  looks  in  the  looking-glass 
quite  frequently,  it  lias  never  yet  occurred  to  him  that 
with  his  sparkling  little  black  eyes  and  dark-complexioned 
cheeks  and  slender  little  legs,  he  doesn't  look  unlike  one 
of  Mr.  Cox's  funny  little  people  himself. 

Fortunately  the  seats  his  father  got  were  away  down 
in  front,  where  the  music  sounded  beautiful  and  loud,  and 
in  the  one  or  two  rows  before  them  there  were  only  little 
people  who  hadn't  very  big  hats  on,  so  that  Jimmieboy 
could  see  perfectly,  particularly  after  his  father  had  built 
up  his  seat  with  an  overcoat,  a  pea-jacket,  three  or  four 
programmes,  and  a  package  of  books  he  had  with  him. 
After  they  were  seated  Jimmieboy  spent  the  time  before 
the  rising  of  the  curtain  looking  about  him,  and  there 
were  Brownies  —  painted  ones — everywhere.  Up  and 
down  the  sides  of  the  beautiful  gold  frame  of  the  stage 
were  Uncle  Sams  and  policemen,  and  running  all  around 
the  balcony  rail  were  the  other  funny  little  folk  that  had 
given  Jimmieboy  so  much  pleasure  by  their  antics  in  the 
pictures,  only  here  they  were  quite  as  large  as  Jimmie- 
boy himself.  And  then  when  he  had  gazed  at  them  he 
noticed  a  lot  of  little  electric  bells  placed  about  three  feet 
apart  hanging  from  the  bottom  of  the  balcony,  and  he 
wondered  what  they  were  for,  arid  he  asked  his  papa,  and 
his  papa  shook  his  head  very  wisely,  and  told  him  to  wait 
and  see— for,  between  you  and  me,  he  didn't  know,  which 
he  never  likes  to  confess  to  Jimmieboy,  because  it  would 
be  an  intense  disappointment  to  him  to  discover  that  his 
father  didn't  know  everything. 

And  then  the  music  began,  and  all  the  little  children 
were  delighted,  it  was  so  whistleable— if  you  know  what 
that  means.  Some  music  is  grand,  and  requires  a  mag- 
nificent organ  or  a  splendid  orchestra  to  play  it  properly, 
and  then  again  there  is  other  music  that  only  sounds  well 
when  played  on  a  piano,  either  by  two  persons,  or  by  one 
person  who  is  smart  enough  to  play  a  duet  all  by  him- 
self if  he  wanted  to,  but  this  music  of  Mr.  Douglas's  was 
quite  different  from  both  of  them.  It  was  the  kind  that  a 
boy  could  whistle  and  enjoy,  or  that  a  little  girl  could 
learn  to  play  on  a  piano  with  one  finger,  and  have  other 
little  girls  say  it  was  so  pretty  and  sweet,  which  is  saying 


JANUARY  29,  1S95. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


229 


a  great  deal  in  its  favor,  for  it  isn't  an 
easy  thing  by  any  means  to  write  music 
that  boys  will  whistle  and  little  girls 
will  want  to  play  on  the  piano  with  one 
finger,  and  Jimmieboy's  father  said  that 
Mr.  Douglas  ought  to  be  proud  of  him- 
self for  having  done  it  all  so  well,  to 
which  Jimmieboy  replied  "  that  he  guess- 
ed he  was,  then,  because  grown-up  people 
generally  do  do  what  they  ought  to." 

Then,  when  the  orchestra  had  played 
for  four  or  five  minutes,  a  little  bell  rang 
and  the  curtain  went  up,  and  there  stood 
the  court-yard  of  the  Palace  of  Titania, 
Queen  of  the  Fairies.  At  the  back  of 
the  yard  was  a  great  wall  shutting  out 
the  sea  beyond.  To  the  right  was  the 
iron  gate  which  kept  the  enemies  of  the 
fairies  from  entering,  and  scattered 
through  the  court-yard  were  groups  of 
lovely  fairies  with  gossamer  wings,  and 
beautiful  flowing  garments,  and  pink 
toes,  and  splendid  soprano  voices,  with 
which  they  sang  a  merry  little  chorus 
about  Titania's  wedding-day,  and  how 
the  bells  were  so  glad  about  it  that  they 
kept  going  "ding-dong,  ding-dong,"  all 
the  time.  The  fairies  sang  this  as  sweet- 
ly as  they  knew  how,  and  when  they 
had  about  finished,  what  should  Jim- 
mieboy see  poking  their  funny  little 
heads  over  the  wall  but  his  friends  the 
Brownies,  who  had  come  to  see  their  Prince  Florimel, 
the  heir  to  the  Brownie  throne,  marry  the  lovely  Titania. 
There  was  the  Dude  Brownie,  here  called  J.  Chappie 
Good  form;  Inspector  Clubbem,  the  Policeman  Brownie 
— who,  the  book  says, 

"  With  watchful  eye  and  club  in  hand 
Keeps  order  in  the  Brownie  band " 

—Sam  Doodle  Doo, Kraut  Van  Boom-Boom, Paddy  Whack- 
er, and  Li  Lo;  and  Hocus  and  Pocus,  the  twins,  were 
there  too,  accompanied  by  other  Brownies  of  the  drollest 
kind.  These,  when  they  had  made  faces  at  everybody, 
popped  behind  the  wall  again,  and  shortly  after  came 
rollicking  in  through  the  iron  gateway  as  happy  and  as 
noisy  as  you  please.  Jimmieboy  laughed  so  hard  that 
he  fell  off  his  seat,  but  he  didn't  mind  that  much,  because 
nine-tenths  of  the  other  children  in  the  audience  did  the 
same  thing,  which  the  Brownies  seemed  to  wonder  at  very 
much,  because  they  sang  their  song,  "A  Happy  Brownie 
Band,"  with  very  solemn  faces,  as  much  as  to  say: 
"Well!  What  funny  things  children  are,  to  be  sure!" 

Then  other  strange 
things  happened,  until  the 
orchestra  began  to  play  a 
wedding  march,  in  which 
Jimmieboy  found  out  what 
the  bells  on  the  balconies 
were  for,  for  as  the  sweet 
strains  of  the  wedding 
march  came  from  the  in- 
struments the  bells  chimed 
in,  and  as  each  bell  sounded 
a  different  note,  they  were 
always  in  tune  with  the 
music,  and  the  whole  the- 
atre seemed  to  be  filled  with 
sweet  sounds.  Then  roses 
began  to  fall  from  the  sky, 
and  under  a  rain  of  flowers 
in  walked  Prince  Florimel 
THE  STUDENT  BROWNIE.  and  the  lovely  Titania. 


A    DANCE    BEFORE    DRAGONFEL'S   CASTLE. 

Prince  Florimel  and  Titania  hardly  have  time  to  sing 
a  pretty  song  when  there  comes  a  great  noise  at  the  gate, 
and  the  terrible  Dragonfel,  with  his  giant  followers  dis- 
guised as  friends  and  bearing  magnificent  gifts,  demands 
and  receives  admittance.  The  Brownies  meanwhile  are 
cutting  up  all  sorts  of  delightful  pranks  and  dancing  the 
queerest  dances  and  making  the  funniest  faces  imagina- 
ble. The  presents  brought  by  Dragonfel  and  his  fellow- 
giants  are  all  of  gold,  and  about  a  hundred  times  too 
large  to  be  of  any  use  to  the  bride  and  groom.  They  are 
accepted  with  thanks,  however,  and  their  donors  are  in- 
vited to  enter  the  palace,  which  they  do.  Then  there 
arrives  a  large  watermelon  on  a  chariot  drawn  by  a  pair 
of  charming  little  ponies,  and  the  Brownies  fall  all  over 
themselves  with  delight,  as  well  they  may,  for  in  an  in- 
stant the  watermelon  divides  itself  into  slices,  and  out  of 
the  middle  of  it  jumps  the  Brownie  King,  whose  head 
is  so  bald  and  slippery  that  the  crown  won't  stay  on  it, 
and  who  sings  a  most  extraordinary  song,  and  puts  the 
Brownie  army  through  the  strangest  and  most  amusing 
drill  you  ever  saw  in  your  life. 

Then  comes  the  fearful  discovery  that  Titania  has  been 
kidnapped  and  taken  over  the  sea  by  Dragonfel,  who  does 
not  wish  the  Queen  of  the  Fairies  and  the  Prince  of  the 
Brownies  to  be  married,  because  by  that  marriage  they 
will  become  more  powerful  than  he.  The  Brownies  start 
in  pursuit.  They  board  a  raft,  and  a  change  of  scene 
shows  them  on  the  ocean  being  tossed  up  and  down  by  a 
very  rough  sea  and  confronted  by  a  huge  sea -monster, 
into  whose  jaws  they  cast  everything  they  can  lay  hands 
on.  While  this  is  going  on  a  terrible  storm  comes  up, 
and  the  Brownies  appear  to  be  in  a  very  bad  way,  when. 
as  the  story  tells  us,  Euphrosyne,  Goddess  of  Mirth,  ap- 
pears in  answer  to  their  prayers,  with  Neptune  and  his 
sea-chariot.  The  God  of  the  Sea  quiets  the  turbulent 
waters,  and  the  Brownies  proceed  in  safety. 

By  means  of  raft  and  air-ship  they  reach  the  Enchanted 
Island,  and  find  much  to  mystify  them.  The  Brownies 
hide  in  the  outer  halls  of  the  castle,  while  their  King  and 
some  of  his  followers,  disguised  as  a  German  street-band, 
gain  entrance  to  Dragon  fel's  mighty  presence.  At  a  fa- 


230 


HARPER'S    YOUNG    PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


vorable  moment  they  make  an  attack  on  Dragonfel,  and 
are  just  about  to  conquer,  when  he  calls  011  Vulcan  to 
bring  earthquake  and  ruin.  The  castle  falls  in  ruins, 
the  mountain  becomes  a  volcano,  and  lava  is  seen  pour- 
ing' down  its  side  to  overwhelm  and  destroy  the  Brownies. 
The  Brownie  fire  department  conies  to  the  rescue. 

Daylight  finds  the  Brownies  still  in  quest  of  the  Queen  ; 
and  as  their  power  is  gone  with  the  rising  sun  they  are 
easily  overcome  by  Dragonfel's  followers,  and  are  made 
to  slave  and  toil  in  the  mines.  Here  they  remain  until 
the  Russian  Brownie  explodes  a  dynamite  bomb  with 
which  the  peace  of  the  whole  band  has  been  continually 
threatened.  The  explosion  causes  a  caving  in  of  a  rift 
in  which  Dragonfel  happens  to  be.  And  in  the  mean  time 
Euphrosyne  has  come  to  the  rescue  of  the  Queen  and  the 
fays.  Florimel  and  Titania  are  united,  while  the  mines 
gradually  disappear,  and  a  glorious  night  view  of  Brownie- 
land  is  disclosed. 

Jimmieboy  was  in  a  state  of  continuous  laughter 
throughout  the  whole  performance,  and  particularly  loud 
did  he  laugh  at  the  Brownies  when  they  pretended  to  be 
a  German  street-band;  they  were  so  droll,  and  played  so 
deliciously  out  of  tune  like  a  real  German  street-band. 
And  he  was  delighted  with  the  glittering  transformation 
scenes,  and  the  wonderful  lady  fairies  who  swung  to  and 
fro  in  the  air  with  all  sorts  of  beautiful  colored  lights 
shining  on  them.  And  when  it  was  over  he  was  quite  as 
sorry  as  the  little  girl  who  sat  behind  him,  who  said  to 
her  mother, 

"  I  wisht  we  lived  here,  mar." 

"  Why,  my  dear?"  asked  her  mother. 

"So's  I  could  see  it  all  the  time.  'Coz  I'd  never,  never, 
never  get  tired  of  it." 

Which  I  was  not  at  all  surprised  to  hear,  for  I  think 
that  even  I  could  see  it  many  times  without  being  in  the 
least  wearied  by  it. 


AFLOAT   WITH  THE   FLAG 


BY    W.  J.  HENDERSON. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 
THE  CADETS   TO    THE    RESCUE. 

AS  soon  as  the  boys  reached  the  Detroit,  Harold  went 
to  Mr.  Crane  and  told  him  the  whole  story. 

"Now,  sir,"  said  the  cadet,  "I  hope  you'll  allow  Bris- 
comb  and  me  twenty-four  hours  ashore  to  warn  Captain 
Lockwood  and  to  help  him  find  his  son.  And  I'd  like 
very  much  to  have  Cockswain  Morris  to  go  with  us." 

"  I  must  talk  to  the  Captain  about  this,"  was  the  reply. 
Commander  Brownson  at  once  perceived  that  it  was  a 
matter  of  which  official  notice  could  not  be  taken  with- 
out more  definite  information;  yet  to  wait  for  that  might 
mean  destruction  to  the  Alma.  He  gave  the  desired  per- 
mission, and  the  Executive  Officer  ordered  a  boat  to  be  in 
readiness  to  take  the  three  friends  ashore  immediately 
after  quarters  the  next  morning.  It  was  understood  that 
they  were  to  return  to  the  Detroit  in  one  of  the  Alma's 
*  Beeun  iu  HARPER'S  YOUNO  PEOPI.K  No.  78). 


boats  in  twenty-four  hours.  As  soon  as  they  reached  the 
landing-place  they  went  at  once  to  the  Alma.  Captain 
Lockwood  was  greatly  agitated  by  the  news  which  they 
gave  him. 

"So  they  want  to  shoot  my  boy  and  razee  the  bark, 
eh?"  he  exclaimed.  "  Well,  by  the  great  horn  spoon!  I 
guess  we'll  beat  them  at  both  games.  But  I  can't  see 
why  they've  put  Bob  ashore.  I  should  think  they'd  have 
kept  him  aboard  one  of  their  ships." 

"Beggin'  yer  pardon,  sir,"  said  Peter,  "but  seem' as 
how  he  are  a  American,  they  wants  to  keep  their  doiu's 
dark." 

"  That  must  be  it.  But  we  haven't  any  time  to  lose. 
We  have  to  get  horses  yet." 

"  And  the  bark?"  asked  Hal. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Ball  can  take  care  of  her.      He'll   take  her' 
out  of  the  wharf  and  anchor  her." 

"  But  it  would  be  better  to  defer  doing  that  till  late  in 
the  day,  so  that  they  may  not  have  time  to  form  a  new 
plan,"  said  Harold. 

"That's  so,  boy;  you  have  a  clear  head." 

"  And  as  we  shall  probably  get  back  after  dark,  we 
ought  to  know  where  she's  going  to  be,"  continued  Hal. 

"Right  again.     You're  a  sailor,  sure." 

"W'ich  the  same  he  are,  sir,  beggin' his  pardon  fur 
savin'  so,"  said  the  cockswain. 

The  first  mate  was  sent  for  and  let  into  the  secret,  but 
he  was  instructed  not  to  tell  the  crew. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Ball,"  said  Captain  Lockwood,  "about  four 
o'clock,  or  later,  you  stand  by  to  get  the  bark  off.  An- 
chor about  just  off  Enchadas  Island,  bearing  no'-no'th- 
east  from  the  wharf,  say  about  three-quarters  of  a  mile." 

These  instructions  having  been  given  the  Captain  arose 
to  go,  but  Harold  said: 

"  One  minute,  sir.  It  will  not  do  for  us  to  go  on  this 
expedition  in  uniform.  Can't  you  fit  us  out  with  some 
old  toggery  from  your  slop  chest?" 

"  Right,"  said  the  Captain. 

"  And  to  make  everything  snug  and  safe,"  said  George, 
"  I  think  we  ought  to  shift  somewhere  ashore." 

"There's  a  friend  of  mine  who  lives  right  on  the  out- 
skirts of  the  city,"  said  the  Captain,  "and  we  can  have 
our  horses  sent  there,  and  shift  there,  too." 

The  party,  consisting  of  the  Captain,  the  two  cadets, 
and  the  cockswain  now  arose  to  depart.  The  first  mate 
was  instructed  to  have  a  boat  at  the  landing -float  at 
eight  o'clock  to  wait  for  them. 

"  Good -by  all,"  said  Minnie.  "I  wish  I  were  a  man 
so  that  I  could  go  with  you." 

They  set  off  with  grave  faces,  the  cockswain  carrying 
the  bundle  of  clothes  to  be  used  as  disguises.  Captain 
Lockwood  was  well  acquainted  with  the  city,  and  he 
know  where  to  procure  horses.  It  was  decided  that  they 
should  get  the  animals  at  once  and  ride  out  to  the  house 
of  the  Captain's  friend.  An  extra  horse  for  Robert  was 
to  be  sent  after  them.  On  arriving  at  their  destination, 
Sefior  Pereira,  the  friend  of  Captain  Lockwood,  and  a 
loyal  Brazilian,  heard  their  story,  and  said  that  he  was 
ready  to  give  them  every  assistance.  He  knew  the  house 
of  Miguel  Santos,  and  suggested  that  they  should  all  ride 
out  in  that  direction  iu  the  afternoon  and  reconnoitre. 
As  soon,  therefore,  as  they  had  eaten,  they  mounted  their 
horses  and  set  off.  In  spite  of  the  gravity  of  the  occa 
sion  George  could  not  help  laughing. 

"Senor  Pereira,"  he  said,  "did  you  ever  see  anything 
more  absurd  than  four  sailors  on  horseback?" 

The  polite  Brazilian  made  some  courteous  remark,  but 
Peter  shook  his  head  and  said  : 

"  Werry  bad,  werry  bad;  but  not  no  wuss  nor  a  sea- 
sick sojer  aboardship,  w'ich  the  same  he  are  'most  as 
distressiu'  a  sight  as  a  cat  in  swimmin'." 

The  four  miles  were  soon  covered,  and  Senor  Pereira 
pointed  out  the  house.  Captain  Lockwood  was  very  ex- 


JANUARY  29,  1895 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


231 


cited,  and  the  boys  had  much  difficulty  in  calming  him 
Suddenly,  as   they   walked   their  horses  slowly  past  the 
place,  Harold  exclaimed,  in  a  suppressed  voice, 

"  I  see  him  !'' 

Captain  Lockwood  looked  in  the  direction  indicated, 
and  there  was  his  son  in  an  upper  room. 

"There  are  no  bars  to  the  window, "said  George;  "  why 
doesn't  he  escape?'1 

"He  must  be  fastened  in  some  way,"  said  Hal. 

"Nothing  but  chains  would  hold  him."  said  the  Cap- 
tain. 

"  Then  we  must  bring  a  steel  saw  to-night."  said  Hal. 

"Have  you  thought  of  away  to  reach  him;"  asked 
George. 

"  W'icli  the  same  I  have  did. "said  Peter,  significantly. 

"  Did  he  see  us?"  asked  the  Captain. 

"No,"  said  Hal,  "but  we  ought  to  let  him  know  that 
we  are  around." 

They  turned  back  and  rode  past  the  house  again.  Cap- 
tain Lockwood  began  to  whistle  a  peculiar  tune.  Robert 
heard  it,  raised,  his  head,  and  saw  his  father,  who  at  once 
laid  his  finger  on  his  lips,  and  rode  on.  They  now  re- 
turned to  Seuor  Pereira's.  The  Brazilian  sent  a  servant 
to  purchase  a  steel  saw,  and  now  there  was  nothing  to  do 
but  wait  for  darkness.  As  soon  as  it  was  dusk  the  res- 
cuers set  off,  Peter  having  provided  himself  with  a  large 
coil  of  rope.  When  they  arrived  at  a  point  about  two 
hundred  yards  away  from  the  Santos  house,  they  led  their 
horses  into  the  woods  and  made  them  fast.  Then  they 
stole  on  foot  to  the  rear  of  the  house. 

"George,"  whispered  Hal,  "here's  your  chance.  You 
used  to  be  fond  of  playing  Indian  scout.  Now  see  if  you 
can  find  out  where  the  people  of  the  house  are." 

George  needed  no  second  bidding.  Pulling  off  his 
shoes,  he  threw  himself  on  his  breast  in  the  thick  grass 
and  crawled  away.  He  was  gone  more  than  half  an 
hour,  and  his  friends  became  anxious,  when  suddenly  he 
reappeared. 

"It's  all  right,"  he  said.  "The  family  is  just  going 
to  bed;  they  are  evidently  early  risers.  There  are  two 
men  with  rifles  in  a  front  room  on  the  first  floor,  but 
they  have  a  table  with  a  bottle  of  wine  and  cards  on  it. 
They'll  be  too  interested  to  watch  their  prisoner." 

They  waited  about  three-quarters  of  aji  hour  longer, 
and  then  Peter  was  directed  to  go  ahead  with  his  scheme. 
The  seaman  at  once  climbed  a  tall  tree  at  one  side  of  the 
house,  carrying  an  end  of  his  rope  with  him.  Harold 
followed  him.  A  long  branch  of  this  tree  extended  near- 
ly over  the  roof,  and  climbing  out  on  it,  Peter,  with  a 
sailor's  dexterity,  cast  the  bight  of  the  rope  around  a 
chimney.  He  now  made  the  ends  fast  to  the  tree  limb. 
Then  taking  another  piece  about  thirty  feet  long  he  slung 
it  around  his  body,  and  by  means  of  his  extemporized 
bridge  he  crossed  hand  over  hand  to  the  roof,  Harold 
following  him.  The  piece  of  rope  which  Peter  took  over 
was  made  fast  immediately  over  the  window  where  Rob- 
ert had  been  seen,  and  then  Peter  descended  by  it  to  the 
window-sill.  The  window  was  latched.  Peter  laughed 
quietl}-,  and  taking  out  his  knife,  inserted  it  between  the 
two  sashes  and  forced  the  latch.  He  stepped  into  the 
room,  which  was  pitch-dark. 

"Who's  that?"  called  a  voice. 

"Are  you  Robert  Lockwood?"  asked  the  cockswain. 

"Yes." 

"  We're  here  fur  to  save  you.     Come  with  me." 

"I've  got  chains  on  my  ankles." 

Peter  examined  them,  and  found  them  too  heavy  to  saw 
through  in  a  short  time.  So  he  made  the  end  of  his  rope 
fast  around  the  boy's  body,  and  climbed  back  to  the  roof, 
where  he  and  Harold,  with  much  labor,  hauled  the  boy 
out  through  the  window  until  he  hung  suspended  in  the  air. 
A  moment  later  the  captain  saw  his  son  descending  to  the 
ground.  He  started  forward  quickly,  and  the  next  instant 


the  boy  was  clasped  in  his  father's  arms.  As  soon  as 
Peter  and  Harold  had  descended  they  lifted  Robert  and 
carried  him  to  his  horse  in  the  woods. 

"  You'll  have  to  ride  side-saddle  fashion,  Bob,"  said 
the  Captain,  laughing. 

"  I  can  ride  that  way  as  well  as  any  other,"  replied  the 
boy. 

Their  progress  was  slow,  but  in  three-quarters  of  an 
hour  they  were  at  Seiior  Pereira's.  There  a  cold  chisel 
was  obtained,  and  not  being  afraid  to  make  a  noise,  the 
chains  were  cut  from  Robert's  ankles.  The  horses  were 
left  at  the  house  of  the  Brazilian,  to  be  returned  in  the 
morning,  the  cadets  and  Peter  put  on  their  uniforms,  and 
with  many  expressions  of  gratitude  to  him  the  party  set 
off  at  a  brisk  walk  for  the  wharf.  Minnie  and  Mr.  Ball 
had  rowed  the  dingy  ashore  themselves,  and  were  waiting 
for  the  party.  Just  as  Captain  Lockwood  set  his  foot  on 
the  inshore  end  of  the  wharf  a  splutter  of  dampness  broke 
against  his  face. 

"  What's  that?"  he  exclaimed.  "  Fog,  as  I'm  a  living 
man." 

"  It'll  be  a  werry  bad  job  to  find  your  bark,  sir,"  said 
Peter.  "Cos  w'y?  fur  a  wessel  in  a  fog  are  like  huntin' 
fur  whales  in  Broadway,  New  York." 

CHAPTER      XXVI. 
LOST  IN  THE  FOG. 

IT  was  difficult  even  to  find  the  landing-float,  so  dense 
was  the  oily  blackness  which  the  fog  spread  over  the 
whole  shore  and  bay. 

"It  are  werry  much  like  lookin'  down  the  neck  o'  a 
bottle  o'  ink,"  muttered  Peter. 

But  presently  Mr.  Ball  heard  their  footsteps,  and  in  a 
low  voice  called  out,  "  Is  that  you,  Cap'nf 

"  All  right,"  answered  the  skipper,  "here  we  are." 

The  next  minute  they  were  in  the  boat,  and  Minnie, 
half  crying,  had  her  arms  around  her  brother's  neck. 
Mr.  Ball,  Peter,  and  the  two  cadets  took  the  oars. 

"Wait  a  bit,"sa.id  the  Captain,  "let's  get  our  bearings. 
You  anchored  just  where  I  told  you,  Ball?" 

"  Yes,  sir;  but  I'm  sorry — 

"  Sorry  for  what?" 

"  I  couldn't  find  a  boat  compass  to  bring  ashore." 

"Goodness!"  exclaimed  the  Captain,  "there  are  three 
aboard,  but  they're  all  in  the  locker  in  my  cabin." 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Peter,  after  a  moment  of  silence,  "  I 
reckon  we  got  to  feel  fur  her." 

"We'll  be  mighty  lucky  if  we  find  her,"  said  Hal. 

"  Yes;  but  we  can't  stay  here,"  said  George. 

"Couldn't  we  wait  till  the  fog  lifts?"  asked  Hal. 

"  These  fogs  in  Rio  Harbor  generally  hang  on  all  night," 
replied  Captain  Lockwood.  "  If  it  wasn't  for  Minnie, 
we  might  lie  right  here  till  daylight." 

"  Oh,  papa,  please,  please  don't  think  about  me. "  said 
the  girl;  "  think  about  saving-  Robert." 

"An'  beggin'  your  pardon  once  ag'in,  sir,"  said  Peter, 
"if  we  stays  here  till  daylight,  an'  the  fog  lifts,  doesn't 
we  stand  a  good  chance  fur  to  be  seed  by  some  o'  them 
rebel  tugs  afore  we  git  off  to  the  bark?" 

"  Why,  of  course,  cocks'n,"  said  the  Captain.  "  You've 
got  your  wits  about  you.  We  must  do  the  best  we  can 
to  find  the  Alma.  Let's  see,  now.  This  wharf  here  runs 
about  due  north  and  south.  We  must  get  our  bearings 
as  well  as  we  can  from  that.  Give  'way,  lads." 

The  four  oars  dipped  into  the  water,  and  the  boat 
started.  The  landing -float  was  instantaneously  hidden 
from  sight,  and  the  boat  appeared  to  be  floating  in  dark- 
ness. 

"It's  a  mean,  dirty  night.''  said  the  Captain. 

"I  am  not  in  love  witli  it,"  said  George. 

"  It  has  one  advantage,"  said  Harold. 

"  What's  that?"  asked  the  Captain. 


232 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


A    MOMENT    LATER    THE   CAPTAIN    SAW    HIS    SON   DESCENDING. 


"  If  we  can't  find  the  Alma,  they  can't  either." 

"  True  enough,"  answered  the  Captain;  "but  I  don't 
think  they  would  undertake  to  harm  her  while  she's  out 
in  the  bay." 

"  We  must  be  pretty  nearly  there,"  said  George. 

"Oh  no,"  said  Mr.  Ball;  "we  haven't  pulled  300 
yards  yet,  and  she's  a  good  three-quarters  of  a  mile  out." 

They  rowed  on  for  several  minutes  in  silence.  Then 
they  ceased  pulling,  and  listened. 

"  I  don't  hear  a  sound,"  said  the  Captain.  "  I  think 
we  might  try  a  hail  now." 

"Very  well,  sir,"  said  Harold. 

"  Alma  ahoy!"  shouted  the  Captain. 

They  all  waited,  but  there  was  no  reply. 

"  We're  not  far  enough  out  to  be  heard  in  this  fog," 
said  Hal;  "  let's  pull  ahead." 

For  a  few  minutes  nothing  was  hpard  save  the  monot- 
onous click  of  the  oars  in  the  rowlocks. 

"I  think  we'd  better  try  it  again,"  said  the  Captain. 
He  lifted  up  his  voice,  and  shouted  the  name  of  the  bark 
once  more,  but  again  there  was  no  reply.  "  Young  gen- 
tlemen," said  he,  "I'm  afraid  we've  missed  her." 

All  hands  were  silent  for  a  moment.  They  knew  too 
much  about  the  water  to  question  the  judgment  of  an 
experienced  mariner  like  Captain  Lockwood. 

"  Don't  you  think,  sir,"  said  Hal,  "  that  we  must  try 
to  find  her?" 

"Of  course,"  said  the  Captain.  "But  if  we  do  find 
her,  it'll  be  because  we  stumble  011  her  by  chance." 


"  I'm  mortally  sorry  about  this,"  said 
Mr.  Ball. 

"It's  not  your  fault,  Ball;  you've 
done  the  best  that  could  be  done  in  the 
circumstances." 

"Why,  we  can  steer  by  the  wind," 
exclaimed  George.  "I  remember  dis- 
tinctly how  it  was  blowing  when  we 
started  out." 

"  Oh,  Georgie,  Georgie,"  said  Harold, 
with  comic  dismay,  "  that's  a  dreadful 
break  for  a  fellow  who  was  brought 
up  on  the  sea-coast." 

"  Why,  I'd  like  to  know— 
"  A  wind,  sir,"  said  Peter,  "  are  like 
a  young  woman's   mind,  beggin'  your 
pardon,  miss.      It  changes  w'en  ye  don't 
know  it  are  a  moviii'  at  all." 

George  was  silent,  and  presently  they 
began  to  row  again.  Even  while  they 
had  been  lying  on  their  oars  the  boat's 
head  had  swung  about  three  points  un- 
known to  them,  and  they  were  now 
pulling  down  the  bay.  They  were  al- 
ready half  a  mile  below  Isla  de  Cobras, 
though  they  thought  themselves  half- 
way across  to  Nictheroy.  Presently 
they  paused,  and  the  Captain  again 
shouted, 

"Alma  ahoy!" 
But  there  was  no  answer. 
"We  must  continue    to    row    on," 
said   the   Captain;    "that  is   our   only 
chance." 

The  four  oarsmen  bent  their  backs 
to  the  oars  again.  For  nearly  two 
hours  they  pulled  in  every  direction, 
as  they  imagined,  but  in  reality  in  a 
zigzag  course,  down  the  bay.  At  the 
end  of  that  time  they  were  outside  of 
the  bay  and  in  the  cove  just  behind 
Sugar  Loaf  Mountain,  though  they 
believed  themselves  to  be  near  Engen- 
ha  Island. 

"  There's  no  use  of  killing  ourselves,"  said  the  Captain. 
"We're  in  for  a  night  in  the  streets,  and  we  may  as  well 
let  her  drift." 

A  moment  later  Harold  said: 

"Listen!  I  hear  water  lapping  against  a  rock  or  a 
ship." 

"Look!"  said  George.  "There's  something  —  it's  a 
vessel." 

A  dark  mass  loomed  above  them  in  the  fog,  and  the 
boat  drifted  against  the  side  of  the  ship. 

"Whoever  she  is,"  said  Captain  Lockwood,  "she'll 
not  refuse  us  shelter.  On  deck  there!" 

"  Wait,  wait!"  cried  Harold,  who  had  placed  his  hand 
against  the  vessel's  side  and  discovered  that  it  was 
iron. 

It  was  too  late,  however.       Lights  flashed  along   the 
ship's  rail,  and  a  voice  hailed  them  in  Spanish. 
"Speak  'English,'"  said  Captain  Lockwood. 
"In  the  boat  there,"  called  a  firm  young  voice,  "  come 
aboard  and  surrender  yourselves!" 

Tlit^y  had  no  choice  but  to  obey  the  order,  and  climb- 
ing aboard,  they  found  themselves  face  to  face  with  Frank 
Lockwood. 

"Uncle  Hiram!     Bob!"  he  exclaimed. 
"  It  seems  we're  your  prisoners,  Frank,"  said  Robert, 
bitterly. 

"An'  all  that  horseback  ridin'  fur  nothin',"  muttered 
Peter. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


THE     'SCUTNEY     MAIL. 


THE    STORY    OF    A  TOTING    PEOPLE'S    NEWSPAPER    VENTURE. 

BY    SOPHIE    SWETT. 


Part  E. 

MACURDY  GREEN  was  trudging  sturdily  along  the 
road  to  the  village  with  a  heavy  basket  on  his  arm, 
and  thinking  of  what  Captain  Levi  Hawkes  had  said  to 
him  just  before  he  mounted  the  stage  for  Hebron. 

"The  world  is  full  of  square  boys  in  round  holes,  and 
round  boys  in  square  holes,  just  like  you,  Macurdy.  A 
boy  has  got  to  fit  himself  to  the  hole,  or  stir  'round  lively 
and  find  a  hole  that  fits  him;  and  he  will  if  there's  the 
right  stuff  in  him." 

What  Captain  Levi  said  was  worth  thinking  of,  for  he 
was  captain  of  a  ship,  and  knew  the  world.      He  had  of- 
fered to  take  Macurdy  with  him  onboard  his  ship,  but 
Macurdy  knew  what  he 
wanted,   and     it    wasn't 
that.  ^^^^^^H^^ma^^^m 

Farmer  Bigsby  had 
taken  Macurdy  from 
the  poor  -  house  two 
years  before,  when  he 
was  a  little  more  than 
twelve  years  old,  and 
Farmer  Bigsby,  who  was 
"snug,"  admitted  that 
Macurdy  had  always 
been  "  worth  his  keep." 

But  Macurdy  wanted 
a  better  chance.  He  had 
decided  that  farming,  at 
least  after  Farmer  Bigs- 
by's  methods,  would 
never  suit  him.  He  said 
to  himself  that  he  should 
not  be  afraid  to  leave 
'Scutney  and  seek  the 
place  in  life  that  would 
fit  him  or  that  he  could 
fit,  and  he  would  go — 
if  it  were  not  for  Jim! 
He  looked  wistfully 
across  the  fields  at  the 
'Scutney  poor  -  house, 
standing  dingy  and  di- 
lapidated on  the  edge 
of  a  dreary  little  pond, 
as  he  thought  of  Jim. 
"He's  walked  over  to 
the  Corners  to  get  'em," 
he  said  to  himself.  "  I 
hope  he  won't  have  to 
carry  anything  so  hea- 
vy. Maybe  somebody 
will  give  him  a  lift." 

For  Jim  was  not 
strong.  The  circus  that 
had  visited  'Scutney  two 
years  and  a  half  before 
had  left  Jim  behind  it 
very  ill  with  scarlet 
fever,  and  he  had  been 
taken  to  the  poor-house, 
and  had  staid  there  ever 
since.  The  fever  had 
left  him  weak  in  mind 
as  well  as  in  body ;  there 
were  people  who  thought 
he  had  always  been  what 
was  known  in  'Scutney 


as  "  underwitted."  The  town  authorities  had  tried  in 
vain  to  discover  who  he  was  or  where  he  came  from. 
The  circus  company  had  disclaimed  all  responsibility,  de- 
claring that  he  had  run  away  from  home  to  join  it  with- 
out the  knowledge  or  consent  of  any  of  its  members. 

Macurdy  Green  had  become  Jim's  friend  and  protector. 
In  fact  it  was  a  part  of  Macurdy's  theory  of  life  that 
when  a  fellow  was  too  weak  to  stand  up  for  himself  it 
was  his  place  to  stand  up  for  him.  A  place  for  himself 
must  mean  a  place  for  Jim,  too.  Macurdy  was  small  of 
his  age,  and  he  had  to  wear  Farmer  Bigsby's  old  clothes, 
which  Mrs.  Bigsby  thought  it  well  to  leave  unaltered, 
both  as  a  saving  of  labor  and  an  encouragement  to  Ma- 


'I   GUESS    WE   CAN    GET   ALONG    WITHOUT    GIRLS,"   TOM    SAID,  LOFTILY. 


234 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME    XVI. 


curdy  to  grow.  This  morning  he  had  on  a  long-tailed 
coat  that  dangled  around  his  heels,  and  he  would  have 
been  completely  extinguished  under  Farmer  Bigsby's  old 
hat  if  his  ears  had  not  been  the  largest  part  of  him.  But 
Macurdy  had  a  strong  and  resolute  chin,  his  nose  was  so 
sharp  that  it  looked  as  if  it  had  been  whittled  to  a  point, 
and  his  gray  eyes  were  keen  as  well  as  honest.  It  was 
easy  to  see  that  there  was  more  of  Macurdy  than  could 
ever  be  swallowed  up  by  Farmer  Bigsby's  old  clothes  or 
extinguished  by  his  hat. 

Macurdy  began  to  whistle  cheerily  as  he  trudged  along, 
his  long-tailed  coat  flapping  in  the  wind,  and  his  great 
ears  standing  out  from  his  head  like  sails  set  wing  and 
wing.  When  a  boy  had  thought  things  over  until  they 
began  to  look  harder  than  they  really  were,  Macurdy  had 
found  it  a  good  plan  U>  whistle. 

"  Where  you  going,  'Curdy?"  called  a  voice. 

Macurdy  had  reached  Dr.  Pickering's  house,  and  Tom 
Pickering  was  sitting  on  the  wood-pile  whittling  a  basket 
out  of  a  nutshell. 

When  he  was  younger,  Tom  had  meant  to  be  either  a 
cowboy  or  a  lion-tamer  or  an  arctic  explorer;  but  he  had 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  those  occupations  were  too 
risky,  and  that  there  is  nothing  more  satisfactory  than 
the  power  that  comes  from  wealth.  He  knew  something 
about  it,  for  his  uncle  Rufus  had  given  him  twenty-five 
dollars,  which  he  had  put  into  the  'Scutney  bank,  and  had 
also  given  him  a  "motto "bank,  which  now  contained 
seventy-seven  ten-cent  pieces. 

Uncle  Rufus  had  gone  away  off  to  Texas  and  grown 
rich,  and  often  sent  home  presents — always  useful  ones. 
Tom  had  hoped  that  he  would  send  him  some  money  this 
last  Christmas,  and  was  disappointed  to  have  only  a  print- 
ing-press and  a  fountain-pen.  He  had  used  the  press  to 
print  some  cards  for  his  sister  Ethelberta,  but  Etbelberta, 
who  had  been  away  to  boarding -school,  scorned  them 
because  they  were  not  engraved;  and  he  had  proposed  to 
print  some  handbills  for  the  man  who  kept  the  Boston 
store,  but  the  man  had  wanted  to  see  some  specimens  of 
Tom's  work,  and  just  because  there  were  two  or  three 
words  misspelled,  and  a  few  letters  upside  down,  he 
wouldn't  give  him  any  orders. 

And  Tom,  when  he  wrote  to  thank  Uncle  Rufus,  said, 
"The  Presints  were  verry  hansom,  but  moimey  was  an 
Orfle  Handy  Thing."  Tom  thought  he  had  a  head  for 
business,  but  of  what  use  was  a  head  for  business  in 
'Scutney?  Nevertheless,  he  felt  a  little  thrill  of  hope 
when  he  saw  Macurdy  coming.  As  old  Uncle  Sol  Rams- 
dell,  at  the  poor-house,  said,  "  Macurdy  Green  had  a  head- 
piece of  his  own." 

"  Store, "  responded  Macurdy,  concisely,  in  response  to 
Tom's  question  ;  and  he  set  his  basket  down  to  rest  his  arms. 

"  This  town  was  a  dull  enough  place  before  the  Janu- 
ary I  haw,  "growled  Tom.  "Now  there's  no  skating  and 
no  coasting,  to  say  nothing  of  a  job  to  give  a  fellow  a 
start  in  life.  Wliat  you  got  in  your  basket?" 

"Stuff  to  turn  at  the  store.  There's  some  winter  but- 
ter that  I  churned  yesterday.  And  there's  some  stock- 
ings and  mittens;  we  knit 'em — her  and  me."  Macurdy 
nodded  in  the  direction  of  the  Bigsby  farm-house. 

"  I  wouldn't  stay  where  folks  made  me  knit  like  a  girl," 
said  Tom,  contemptuously.  "Halves?" 

Macurdy  shook  his  head,  sadly.  "She  isn't  that  kind, 
you  know,"  he  said.  "  But  she  let  me  knit  a  pair  of  mit- 
tens out  of  the  middlings  for  Jim." 

"The  poormistress  ought  to  knit  his  mittens.  He  is 
nothing  to  you,"  said  Tom.  "  If  you  want  to  help  some- 
body, I  wish  you'd  help  me  to  get  out  of  this  dead  town 
where  there's  no  chance  for  a  fellow." 

"I'll  tell  you  what  this  town  needs."  Macurdy  sat 
down  astride  the  chopping  hlock,  so  that  his  coat  tails  ex- 
tended along  its  whole  length,  and  planted  his  feet  firmly 
on  the  ground,  "It's  a  good  live  newspaper." 


Tom  stared  at  him  open-mouthed,  and  the  expression 
of  disgust  deepened  on  his  face.  "  I  should  like  to  know 
where  it's  going  to  get  one,  and  what  good  'twould  do  me, 
anyway,"  he  said. 

"You've  got  a  printing-press,  you  know,"  said  Macurdy. 
He  didn't  add  that  whether  he  was  milking,  feeding  the 
cattle,  shovelling  snow,  hauling  wood,  or  knitting  mittens. 
he  had  not  been  able  to  get  that  printing-press — a  real 
press,  with  a  large  font  of  type — out  of  his  mind  since  he 
first  saw  it.  Macurdy  always  had  his  reserves. 

The  nut-shell  that  Tom  was  whittling  dropped  from  his 
hand. 

" 'Curdy,  let's  do  it '"  he  exclaimed,  jumping  down  from 
the  wood-pile. 

"  li  '11  take  capital,"  said  Macurdy.      "And  spelling." 

"  I've  got  twenty-five  dollars.  And  we  can  look  in  the 
dictionary.  I  always  thought  a  fellow  was  wasting  his 
time  learning  to  spell,"  said  Tom,  easily. 

Macurdy  Green  shook  his  head  doubtfully. 

"  I  wish  I  could  get  more'n  three  mouths'  schooling  in 
a  year.  I'm  awful  shaky  on  grammar,"  he  said,  dejectedly. 

Tom's  manner  lost  something  of  its  easy  assurance. 
"I'm  stuck  there,  too,"  he  admitted,  candidly.  "Gram- 
mar is  for  girls,  anyhow.  I  said  them  instead  of  those, 
the  other  night,  when  we  had  company,  and  Ethelberta 
said  she  thought  she  should  sink  through  the  floor." 
(Tom,  I  regret  to  say,  delivered  himself  of  this  last  clause 
in  a  thin  falsetto  key,  in  mimicry  of  Ethelberta.) 

"  Grammar  conies  high,  but  you  have  to  have  it,"  said 
Macurdy,  seriously. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  we  could  do,"  said  Tom,  after  a 
moment  of  deep  reflection.  "My  sister  Luella  is  great 
on  grammar  and  spelling'.  We  needn't  let  her  have  her 
name  in  the  paper,  but  she  can  look  over  the  patterns." 

"  The  proofs,"  suggested  Macurdy. 

"  Yes,  that's  what  they  call  'em.  You  know  all  about 
it,  don't  you?  How  did  you  find  out?"  demanded  Tom, 
eagerly. 

"  I  always  wanted  to  do  it.  I  don't  know  how  such 
ideas  get  into  a  fellow's  head.  Uncle  Sol  Ramsdell  at  the 
poor-house  used  to  pick  up  every  newspaper  he  could  find, 
and  some  summer  boarders  used  to  send  him  some  after 
they  went  home  to  New  York,  and  I  used  to  read  them  to 
him.  Jim  knows  a  lot  about  it,  too.  I  think  his  father 
was  an  editor." 

"More  likely  a  circus  clown,"  growled  Tom. 

He  didn't  at  all  approve  of  Macurdy's  intimacy  with 
that  Jim.  They  had  secrets  too — Macurdy  and  Jim — 
which  they  never  revealed  to  him. 

"  I  only  have  my  chores  to  do  after  school,  now,  except 
Saturday,  and  I'll  do  more  than  half  the  work.  I  ought 
to  if  you  furnish  the  capital,"  said  Macurdy.  "You'll 
be  editor  and  proprietor,  and  I'll  be  assistant  editor,"  he 
continued,  modestly.  "We'll  make  a  paper  that  will 
grow  up  with  us  and  with  the  town." 

Tom's  first  impulse  was  to  say  that  they  would  share 
the  glory  of  editorship  equally,  but  it  occurred  to  him 
suddenly  that  "Thomas  F.  Pickering,  Editor  and  Pro- 
prietor," would  look  very  imposing  at  the  head  of  the 
sheet.  And  it  was  Macurdy's  own  proposition. 

Macurdy  stifled  a  little  sigh;  perhaps  he  had  hoped  that 
Tom  would  insist  upon  his  having  more  of  the  honors; 
hut  Macurdy  understood  the  claims  of  capital. 

He  jumped  up  suddenly  from  the  chopping-bloek.  "I 
must  hurry  up,"  he  said.  "I've  got  to  get  some  molasses 
and  some  ginger.  We're  going  to  make  dried  pumpkin 
pies."  Macurdy  made  a  slight  grimace,  but  he  drew  him- 
self up  with  a  soldierly  bearing  in  his  long-tailed  coat. 

"  If  she  don't  make  me  wash  the  dishes  with  her  apron 
on!  That  hurts,"  he  said. 

"You  have  an  awful  hard  time,  'Curdy,"  said  Tom, 
sympathetically.  "  We'll  put  a  piece  in  the  paper  about 
her  "  (the  pronouns  "  she  "  and  "  her  "  were  used  to  darkly 


JANUARY  29,  1595. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


235 


designate  Mrs.  Bigsby),  "  and  about  the  schoolmaster  and 
everybody  tbat  \ve  don't  like." 

But  tbese  satisfactions  of  journalism  did  not  strike  Ma- 
curdy  favorably. 

"I  tliink  that's  mean,  hitting  folks  when  they  haven't 
got  a  chance  to  hit  back,"  lie  said,  shaking  his  head 
gravely.  "Besides,  it  isn't  business  to  make  people  mad. 
You've  got  to  suit  everybody  in  a  paper  like  that.  And 
we  must  get  advertisements,  you  know,  and  make  it 
pay."  Mac u ril y  was  hurrying  off,  now,  with  his  basket, 
under  pressure  of  the  recollection  of  the  dried  pumpkin 
pies. 

"Macurdy  is  business.  I've  got  just  the  right  one  to 
help  me  on  that  paper."  reflected  Tom.  "But  I'm  not 
going  to  have  that  Jim  putting  his  finger  into  the  pie!" 

"  Stop  when  you  come  back,"  he  called  after  Macurdy. 
"  I'll  get  father  to  let  me  take  my  twenty-five  dollars  out 
of  the  bank;  Uncle  Rufus  said  I  was  to  do  whatever  I 
liked  with  it.  And  I'll  talk  to  Luella  about  the  grammar." 

It  happened  that  Luella  came  to  the  door  just  then, 
with  her  friend  Polly  Rawson,  who  had  been  calling  on 
her.  The  girls  were  chattering  about  some  fancy-work 
that  they  were  making  for  a  church  fair. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  for  the  fair?''  Polly  Raw- 
son  called  to  Tom.  "  There  is  so  little  that  a  boy  can 
do,"  she  added,  condescendingly.  "  But  we  are  going  to 
have  home-made  candy  for  our  table,  Luella  and  I,  and 
we'll  let  you  crack  the  nuts." 

Crack  the  nuts,  indeed!  Tom  growled  a  half-inaudible 
refusal,  to  which  they  didn't  even  listen.  Polly  Rawson 
was  only  fourteen,  just  the  age  of  Luella,  and  a  year  and 
a  half  younger  than  he,  but  she  had  begun  to  put  on  as 
many  airs  as  if  she  were  twenty,  especially  since  she  had 
her  long  braid  fastened  up  in  a  little  bob,  and  had  written 
a  composition  that  the  teacher  read  before  the  whole 
school.  Tom  wished  he  were  not  obliged  to  ask  a  girl  to 
help  about  the  paper.  Perhaps  it  really  would  have 
been  better  for  a  fellow  to  give  his  mind  to  spelling  and 
grammar,  he  thought,  regretfully. 

Luella  had  seated  herself  at  the  piano,  and  was  prac- 
tising, counting  one,  two,  three,  four,  with  diligent  mo- 
notony when  Tom  followed  her  into  the  house. 

Luella  had  prim  little  features,  and  a  straight  mouth, 
and  she  never  understood  a  fellow's  troubles;  she  was  apt 
to  call  them  shim:*. 

"See  here,  Luella" — Tom  shut  the  parlor  door  care- 
fully behind  him  —  "it's an  awful  secret,  but  we're goingto 
publish  a  paper,  Macurdy  Green  and  I,  and  we're  going 
to  let  you  help  a  little." 

"  One,  two,  three,  four,"  went  on  Luella,  with  provok- 
ing indifference.  "A  paper!  you  and  Macurdy  Green! 
— one,  two,  three,  four — you  don't  know  a  thing  about  it !" 

Luella  allowed  her  fingers  to  fall  from  the  keys  with 
this  climax  of  frankness. 

"We  know  all  about  it;  Macurdy  Green  and  I  are  the 
kind  that  look  into  things.  We  only  want  you  to  look 
over  the  patterns — the  proofs — and  correct  the  mistakes. 
There  always  are  some  mistakes,  because  editors  have 
more  important  things  to  think  of  than  grammar  and 
spelling." 

"  It  would  be  a  funny  paper  with  your  spelling  and 
Macurdy  Green's!"  she  said.  "Macurdy  is  smart;  every- 
body says  so,  but  he  never  had  a  chance."  (There  was  an 
accent  on  the  pronoun  which  Tom  felt  to  be  unpleasantly 
personal.)  "He's  awfully  sharp  at  a  bargain.  You'd 
better  let  him  manage  the  paper." 

"  I  guess  I'm  capable  of  managing  my  own  paper," 
said  Tom,  resenting  the  implied  doubt  of  his  abilities. 

"  I  think  you'll  find  that  queer  boy  at  the  poor-house 
will  have  something  to  do  with  it  if  Macurdy  Green 
has,"  said  Luella.  "He  and  Mactmly  are  very  thick. 
They  keep  something  in  Mr.  Bigsby's  old  granary,  and 
nobody  can  get  into  the  granary  or  find  out  what  it  is. 


Some  people  think  it  is  money;  that  boy  wouldn't  know 
any  better  than  to  steal,  and  Macurdy  thinks  so  much  of 
him  that  he  would  keep  him  from  getting  found  out. 
And  some  people  think  it's  a  pony  that  he  hid  away  in 
the  woods  when  the  circus  was  here,  and  before  he  was 
sick.  Very  queer  noises  have  been  heard  there." 

"You  and  Polly  Rawson  know  such  a  lot  of  wonder- 
ful tilings!"  said  Tom,  scornful! v. 

The  truth  was  that  it  was  a  sensitive  point  with  Tom 
that  Macurdy  did  not  take  him  into  his  confidence  about 
the  mysterious  occupants  of  that  old  granary,  which  were 
reported  to  be  almost  everything  imaginable,  from  bags 
of  gold  to  the  queer  little  animals  which  had  performed 
such  wonderful  tricks  at  the  circus.  Tom  then  and  there 
resolved  to  tell  Macurdy,  pleasantly  but  firmly,  that  be- 
fore he  became  connected  with  his  newspaper  enterprise 
he  must  share  with  him  the  secret  of  that  granary. 

"There's  always  a  managing  editor  and  a  literary 
editor,"  continued  Luella,  returning  to  the  subject  of 
the  paper.  "Polly  Rawson's  uncle  owns  a  paper,  and 
Polly  knows  all  about  it.  We  talked  it  over  when  we 
thought  of  having  a  paper  for  the  fair.  You  can  be  the 
publisher,  Macurdy  Green  the  managing  editor,  and  I'll 
be  the  literary  editor." 

il  A  lot  you  will !"  cried  Tom,  with  scornful  roughness. 

"Provided  that  my  name  is  printed  on  the  paper  in 
very  large  letters,  that  I  have  as  many  copies  as  I  like  to 
give  away,  and  that  I  can  put  in  my  friends'  pieces.  But 
of  course  you'll  be  glad  to  have  those,  for  Nell  Tapley 
writes  beautiful  poetry,  and  Abby  Atwood  can  make  up 
conundrums  and  funny  things  that  you  would  think 
came  out  of  a  grown-up  paper,  and  Polly  can  write  fairy 
stories.  Don't  you  remember  her  composition,  '  The  En- 
chanted Pumpkin  Seed'?" 

"Haven't  you  got  cheek!"  cried  Tom,  hotly.  "Do 
you  think  we  want  a  lot  of  girly  things  like  that?  It's 
going  to  be  a  very  different  sort  of  paper  from  that,  I 
can  tell  you !  Of  course  it  will  only  be  a  boys'  paper  now, 
but  we  expect  it  to  grow  up.  with  us  and  with  the  town  " 
— Tom  quoted  uublushingly  from  Macurdy,  really  feeling 
as  if  that  had  been  his  own  idea — "and  that  by-and-by 
it  will  be  the  paper  of  the  country.  I  can  tell  you  such 
things  have  happened.  There's  a  boy  in  New  York — " 

"It  depends  a  great  deal  upon  the  sort  of  boy  he  is. 
I  hope  it  won't  prove  like  the  poultry  or  the  asparagus 
business."  And  after  these  "mean  little  flings,"  as  Tom 
called  them — for  he  had  made  disastrous  failures  in  the 
two  occupations  which  she  mentioned  —  Luella  began 
again  to  play,  and  to  count  her  provoking  one,  two,  three, 
four,  as  if  the  great  enterprise  in  which  Tom  had  asked 
her  help  were  of  no  account  whatever. 

"I  guess  we  can  get  along  without  girls,"  he  said, 
loftily.  But  even  as  he  uttered  this  proud  boast  Tom's 
heart  sank  at  the  thought  of  the  gibes  and  sneers  that 
would  follow  any  errors  in  grammar  or  spelling  that 
might  appear  in  the  paper. 

That  Luella,  who  had  had  to  have  apples  and  oranges 
divided  into  sections  over  and  over  again  before  she 
could  get  fractions  into  her  head,  who  couldn't  throw  a 
ball  straight  to  save  her  life,  nor  drive  a  nail  without 
pounding  her  fingers  black  and  blue,  she  knew  just 
which  way  the  "i"  and  the  "e"  went  in  "deceive"  and 
"believe"  and  all  such  dreadful  words,  and  when  to  say 
"  whom  "  instead  of  "who,"  and  she  said  "lie  down"  to 
Towser  instead  of  "  lay  down,"  as  a  natural  boy  did,  just 
as  easily  as  she  breathed. 

Tom  felt  that  it  was  a.  world  in  which  things  were 
very  unfair,  and  he  turned  away  from.  Luella  and  her 
one,  two.  three,  four  with  a  heavy  sigh. 

Macurdy  must  think  of  a  way  in  which  they  could 
make  that  paper  the  great  success  that  they  meant  to 
have  it — in  time  the  paper  of  the  country — without  girls. 

[TO    BE    CONTIXKED.] 


THE     BUILDING     OF    MODERN     WONDERS. 


THE     FLYING-MACHINE. 


BY      HIRAM     S.     MAXIM,     THE      I  N  V  E  N  TO  R. 


i  T  the  age  of  sixteen  I  had  already  become  quite  ex- 
1\_  pert  as  a  mechanic,  and  had  also  learned  to  draw 
moderately  well.  My  father,  who  was  a  mechanician, 
seeing  that  I  was  very  anxious  to  learn,  and  very  greedy 
for  all  kinds  of  scientific  information,  took  me  to  lectures, 
and  talked  over  and  discussed  scientific  and  mechanical 
questions  with  me.  One  of  his  hobbies  was  a  flying-ma- 
chine. He  told  me  that  if  he  lived  anywhere  but  in  a 
"wooden"*  country,  and  had  plenty  of  money,  he  be- 
lieved he  would  be  able  to  construct  a  flying- machine 
that  would  actually  raise  itself  in  the  air. 

His  plan  was  to  raise  the  machine  bodily  by  means  of 
two  large  screws  revolving  in  reversed  directions.  He 
admitted  that  he  had  not  made  up  his  mind  as  to  what 
would  be  the  best  motive  power,  but  he  said  that  a  flying- 
machine  would  be  of  such  great  value  as  a  military  en- 
gine that  it  would  not  matter  how  much  it  cost  to  run  it, 
and  even  if  it  were  necessary  to  use  fulminate  of  mer- 
cury to  drive  the  engines,  it  could  be  used  for  warfare. 

This  was  in  the  year  1856,  and  since  that  time  many 
have  proposed  flying-machines  on  lines  almost  identical 
to  the  system  thought  out  by  my  father  at  that  remote 
date.  Even  the  great  Peter  Cooper  made  similar  experi- 
ments in  New  York,  attempting  to  employ  chloride  of 
nitrogen,  the  most  sensitive  and  violent  of  all  explosives, 
as  a  motive  power.  As  far  as  I  myself  was  concerned,  I 
made  up  my  mind  not  to  consider  the  question  of  artificial 
flight  until  I  had  made  myself  conversant  with  engineer- 
ing and  had  become  an  expert  draughtsman,  and  I  believe 
it  was  not  until  1870  that  I  began  to  make  drawings  and 
sketches  with  a  view  of  studying  out  how  a  flying-ma- 
chine should  be  constructed. 

It  appeared  to  me  that  the  great  question  to  be  solved 

*  At  that  time  we  were  living  at  Sangersville,  a  small  village  in  the 
interior  of  Maine. 


was  the  motor,  and  I  made  a  point  of  studying  every  new 
form  of  motor  that  made  its  appearance.  First  it  was  a 
steam-engine,  then  a  caloric-engine,  next  a  petroleum-oil 
engine,  and  finally  an  electrical  motor.  But  the  oil-en- 
gine seemed  the  best  adapted  for  the  purpose,  and  I  made 


THE    FLYING-MACHINE    IN    ITS    PARTIALLY    COMPLETED    FORM,   BEFORE    THE    ACCIDENT. 


UODKL    OK  MAXIM'S   MACHINE. 

a  number  of  drawings  with  a  view  to  so  perfecting  this 
type  of  an  engine  as  to  make  it  suitable  for  a  flying-ma- 
chine, but  in  every  case  I  found  that  the  engine  was  too 
heavy  for  the  power  developed.  It  was  then  understood 
that  no  engine  would  be  suitable  for  a  flying  machine  un- 
less it  weighed  less  than  forty  pounds  per  horse  power. 

In  1880  electrical  accumulators  or  storage  batteries 
first  made  their  appearance,  and  a  great  deal  was  claimed 
for  them.  At  the  Electrical  Exposition  in  Paris  in  1881 
I  examined  all  the  electrical  apparatus,  but  there  were  no 

motors  or  batteries,  pri- 
mary or  secondary,  but 
what  were  altogether  too 
heavy  for  a  flying -ma- 
chine. While  in  Paris  in 
the  winter  of  1881-2  I 
studied  out  a  complete 
plan  of  conducting  ex- 
periments whenever  I 
should  find  a  motor  suffi- 
ciently powerful  and  yet 
light  enough  for  my  pur- 
pose. From  the  very  first 
I  saw  that  the  aeroplane 
system  would  be  altogeth- 
er the  best.  (Aeroplane 
is  the  name  usually  given 
to  the  kite-shaped  part  of 
a  flying-machine.)  I  did 
not  believe  it  would  be 
possible  to  make  a  ma- 
chine that  would  screw 
itself  up  into  the  air  after 
the  manner  thought  out 
by  my  father,  because  no 
matter  how  I  considered 
this  problem,  it  was  al- 
ways mathematically  im- 
possible; but  whenever  I 
considered  the  aeroplane 
system,  it  appeared  to  be 
almost  possible  even  with 


JANUARY  29,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


237 


the  then  existing  motors.  My  plan  for  conducting  ex- 
periments was  as  follows:  Whenever  I  had  sufficient 
time  and  means  at  my  disposal  I  would  make  a  series  of 
experiments  with  both  a  steam-engine  and  a  petroleum 
motor,  and  whichever  proved  to  be  the  lightest  for  the 
power  developed  I  would  adopt.  I  had  read  that  there 
were  canons  in  California  leading  from  the  interior  to 
the  sea  in  which  during  a  greater  part  of  the  year  there 
was  a  forty-mile  gale  blowing  at  four  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon . 

I  proposed  to  visit  California  to  examine  these 
canons,  and  when  I  had  found  one  to  suit  my  purpose, 
to  build  a  very  large  and  strong  kite,  with  each  side 
turned  up,  something  like  a  Chinese  kite  that  flies  with- 
out a  tail.  I  then  proposed  to  place  this  kite  on  a  suit- 
able platform,  and  to  suspend  from  the  underneath  side 
my  motors,  two  in  number,  each  of  which  would  be  at- 
tached to  a  screw  shaft.  At  that  time  my  idea  was  to  use 
a  propeller  very  much  the  shape  of  those  used  by  ships, 
except  that  instead  of  metal  it  would  be  a  light  frame- 
work covered  with  silk.  I  did  not  intend  to  fly  my  kite 
in  the  ordinary  way ;  that  is,  in  which  the  cord  not  only 
holds  the  kite  against  the  wind,  but  also  pulls  it  down- 
ward. What  I  proposed  to  do  was  to  secure  my  kite  to 
two  or  more  tall  posts  by  several  strong  cords  or  wires, 
and  to  provide  it  with  fore-and-aft  rudders  to  steer  it  in  a 
vertical  direction.  The  kite  would  be  a  suitable  distance 
from  the  posts,  say  two  or  three  hundred  feet,  and  when  the 
gale  commenced  to  blow  in  the  afternoon  I  would  tilt  up 
the  forward  end  of  the  kite,  when  the  wind  would  get  un- 
derneath and  take  it  up  in  the  air,  carrying  with  it  the  plat- 
form on  which  I  proposed  to  ascend.  The  fore-and-aft 
rudders  of  the  machine  would  be  attached  to  a  windlass, 
somewhat  like  the  one  used  for  steering  ships,  and  my  first 
experimenting  would  be  with  these  rudders.  When  I  had 
learned  to  so  manipulate  them  that  I  could  cause  the  ma- 
chine to  rise  above  the  posts  to  which  the  wires  were  se- 
cured, or  sink  below  them,  or  keep  exactly  at  the  same 
height,  I  believed  that  the  steering  part  of  the  problem 
would  be  solved. 

The  next  thing  would  be  to  run  the  motors  and  screws, 
and  whenever  I  could  get  these  to  develop  sufficient  thrust 
on  the  machine  while  it  was  flying  to  push  it  forward 
against  the  wind,  and  slacken  the  wires  or  cords  which 
secured  it  to  the  posts,  the  problem  to  my  mind  would  he 
solved,  because  I  would  only  have  to  let  go  of  my  wires 
altogether  in  order  to  soar  on  the  wind,  and  then  by 
slackening  the  speed  of  my  motors  I  should  settle  again 
into  the  place  from  which  I  started,  running  my  motors 
all  the  time,  so  as  to  hold  my  machine  against  the  wind 
until  the  kite  should  be  secured  to  the  ground.  Although 
this  plan  was  never  carried  out,  nevertheless  it  still  ap- 
pears to  me  to  be  a  very  simple  and  cheap  mode  of  at- 


THE    COPPER    BOILER. 


AFTER    THE    ACCIDENT. 

tacking  the  problem,  but  a  very  powerful  motor  would 
be  necessary. 

While  in  Paris  in  1889  I  saw  some  very  beautiful  seam- 
less tubes  of  steel,  copper,  brass,  and  also  of  German  sil- 
ver. I  was  assured  that  they  could  be  made  of  almost 
any  size  and  thickness,  and  of  almost  any  length,  but  the 
small  and  thin  tubes  were  exceedingly  expensive.  These 
tubes  caused  me  again  to  think  of  the  subject  of  aerial 
navigation,  and  while  on  a  journey  through  the  Austrian 
Alps  I  studied  a  great  deal  on  the  subject,  and  it  appeared 
to  me  that  with  these  light  tubes  I  should  be  able  to  make 
a  steam  generator  light  enough  for  the  flying-machine  of 
which  I  had  so  long  been  thinking.  Prom  Austria  I 
went  to  Spain,  and  while  there  I  had  the  misfortune  to 
break  a  muscle  in  my  leg,  which  confined  me  to  my 
room  for  a  considerable  time.  I  obtained  pen,  ink,  and  a 
lot  of  paper,  and  amused  myself  by  making  a  great  num- 
ber of  mathematical  calculations  in  regard  to  the  weight 
and  power  of  a  steam  generator  and  of  engines,  also  in 
regard  to  the  thrust  of  screws  working  in  air,  and  the  lift- 
ing power  of  aeroplanes. 

On  my  return  to  England  I  employed  all  my  leisure 
moments  in  making  drawings  of  a  pair  of  compound  en- 
gines, three  hundred  horse-power,  for  my  proposed  flying- 
machine,  and,  the  drawings  finished,  I  at  once  set  about 
to  have  the  engines  made.  I  decided  to  make  the  whole 
engine  of  steel. 

The  crank  shafts  were  very  light  and  hollow,  and  were 
highly  tempered;  the  cylinders  were  of  a  high  grade  of 
steel;  the  passageways,  etc.,  were  made  of  seamless  drawn 
steel  tubes,  and  the  whole  was  very  neatly  riveted  and 
then  brazed  with  silver  solder.  The  cylinders  were  then 
rebored,  and  their  thickness  reduced  to  -j\-  inch.  I  made 
my  connecting  rods  of  steel  tubes,  using  the  inside  as 
an  oil  reservoir.  These  connecting  rods  were  new  in 
design,  having  universal  joints  at  both  ends.  Two  pairs 


238 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


of  engines  were  built  (one  pair  for  eacli  of  the  two 
screws  which  I  proposed  to  have  on  my  flying-machine), 
and  every  ounce  of  steel  in  them  was  of  the  very  best 
•quality.  When  finished  it  was  found  that  they  weighed 
collectively  six  hundred  pounds,  and  that  they  would  de- 
velop over  three  hundred  horse-power.  These  were  by 
far  the  lightest  engines  for  their  power  ever  built  in  the 
world. 

The  next  problem  was  the  steam  generator.  I  again 
went  to  Paris  to  see  about  the  tubes,  but  I  found  that  the 
kind  I  required  had  only  been  made  in  very  small  quan- 
tities, and  were  very  high-priced.  However,  I  ordered  a 
lot  of  the  very  thin  and  strong  copper  tubes.  The  price 
agreed  upon  was  equal  to  their  weight  in  silver,  namely, 
$750  for  the  lot. 

These  tubes  were  made  and  forwarded  to  England. 
But  at  that  time  I  happened  to  be  in  St.  Petersburg,  and 
in  my  absence  they  were  placed  in  the  stores  of  my  gun 
company,  and  before  I  returned  to  England  some  of  the 
dishonest  employes  of  that  company  stole  the  tubes,  and 
sold  them  as  old  copper  for  about  $5,  and  went  on  a  de- 
bauch with  the  proceeds,  and  the  beautiful  tubes  which 
had  cost  so  much  money  and  taken  so  long  to  make  were 
again  reduced  to  pig  copper.  Another  set  of  tubes  was 
obtained  as  soon  as  possible,  and  experiments  commenced 
with  the  boiler.  The  first  boiler  made  did  not  prove 
satisfactory,  and  a  third  set  of  tubes  of  a  larger  diameter 
was  obtained,  and  another  boiler  was  built.  When  fin- 
ished it  had,  with  its  feed  -  water  heater,  which  really 
formed  a  part  of  the  boiler,  a  heating  surface  of  800 
square  feet.  It  weigjied  with  its  gas-burner,  casing,  and 
smoke-stack  about  1000  pounds.  Experiments  were  then 
made  with  a  gas  apparatus,  as  I  believed  that  gas  was 
the  only  fuel  that  would  be  suitable  for  running  a  boiler 
constructed  of  such  a  large  number  of  very  thin  tubes. 
This  required  a  great  deal  of  experimenting,  but  in  the 
end  I  succeeded  in  making  and  burning  all  the  gas  re- 
quired, and  I  found  that  my  boiler  would  make  all  the 
steam  that  my  engines  would  use. 

I  then  constructed  a  species  of  platform  car  mounted 
on  four  flanged  wheels.  The  boiler  was  placed  on  the 
forward  end  of  this  car,  and  the  engines  attached  to  the 
rear  end  on  brackets.  I  had  already  made  a  number  of 
very  large,  light,  and  strong  wooden  screws  of  white 
pine,  worked  down  very  thin,  and  covered  with  strong 
linen.  They  were  found  to  be  very  efHcieiit.  Each 
screw  was  17  feet  10  inches  in  diameter,  and  had  a  pitch 
of  16  feet.  In  the  mean  time  I  had  been  providing  a  rail- 
road track,  nine-feet  gauge,  leading  from  the  shop  where 
I  had  built  my  machine,  across  a  field,  a  distance  of  1800 
feet.  When  everything  was  in  readiness  I  ran  my  ma- 
chine out  on  the  track  and  started  my  engines,  and  I 
found  that  the  screws  could  be  run  at  a  very  high  ve- 
locity, that  they  got  a  good  grip  on  the  air,  and  would 
propel  my  platform  car  across  the  field  at  a  high  velocity. 

The  next  experiment  was  to  secure  a  very  large  aero- 
plane or  kite,  50  feet  wide  and  47  feet  in  a  fore-and-aft 
direction,  over  my  platform  car,  and  about  25  feet  above 
the  ground.  The  forward  end  of  this  kite  was  tilted  up 
:so  that  it  would  catch  the  air  as  it  ran  rapidly  across 
the  field.  The  first  kite  made  did  not  behave  well,  so  I 
•constructed  a  second  one,  with  which  I  made  a  great 
many  runs  with  a  view  to  finding  out  how  much  screw 
thrust  was  required  to  drive  the  machine  across  the  field 
and  how  much  the  aeroplane  would  lift  on  the  machine. 
Finally  I  succeeded  in  lifting  about  half  the  weight  of 
the  machine  with  a  screw  thrust  of  1500  pounds.  Then  I 
added  long  and  narrow  planes  to  each  side  of  my  main 
aeroplane.  This  brought  the  total  width  of  the  machine 
up  to  104  feet.  I  then  placed  horizontal  rudders  fore  and 
aft  for  steering  the  machine  in  a  vertical  direction,  and 
I  saw  it  would  be  necessary  to  experiment  a  great  deal 
in  order  to  learn  exactly  how  to  manoeuvre  the  machine, 


and  for  this  purpose  the  machine  would  have  to  be  kept 
on  the  trad;,  and  not  be  allowed  to  soar  in  the  air  until 
I  knew  that  I  should  be  able  to  steer  it. 

Therefore,  to  keep  it  from  rising  off  the  track,  I  placed 
some  heavy  timbers  011  each  side  of  the  track,  and  about 
ten  feet  distant.  These  were  elevated  a  few  feet  above  the 
ground,  and  another  set  of  small  wheels  was  placed  on 
outriggers,  attached  to  the  machine  in  such  a  manner 
that  when  the  machine  had  been  raised  one  inch  off  the 
railroad  track  these  small  wheels  would  be  brought  in 
contact  with  the  underneath  side  of  the  timbers,  which 
in  reality  was  a  reversed  railroad  track. 

When  everything  was  ready  several  runs  were  made, 
each  one  with  increasing  power.  In  the  last  run  the 
engines  were  worked  up  to  nearly  their  full  power,  and 
the  whole  machine,  which,  with  three  men  on  board  and 
its  water  and  fuel,  weighed  nearly  8000  pounds,  was  lifted 
off  the  track,  and  all  four  of  the  small  wheels  were 
running  on  the  timbers.  As  the  speed  increased  the  lift 
also  very  much  increased,  until  the  rear  axle-tree  of  the 
small  wheels  was  broken.  Then  one  of  the  small  front 
wheels  broke  the  timber  holding  it  down,  and  this  timber 
became  entangled  in  the  frame-work  of  the  machine,  and 
it  became  necessary  to  shut  off  steam.  This  accident  de- 
stroyed the  frame- work  on  one  side  of  the  platform,  and 
broke  one  of  the  flanged  wheels  and  also  one  of  the  pro- 
pellers. 

This  will  delay  further  experiments  for  some  time,  as 
it  may  be  necessary  to  seek  a  field  which  is  considerably 
larger  than  the  one  which  I  now  have  at  my  disposal. 
I  have,  however,  shown  in  the  most  conclusive  manner 
that  a  machine  can  be  made  that  will  lift  its  own  weight 
and  the  weight  of  those  .operating  it.  Before  free  flight 
can  be  attempted  it  will  be  necessary  to  experiment  in  a 
very  thorough  manner  with  the  steering  apparatus. 

At  the  time  the  accident  took  place  the  engines  were 
developing  363  horse -power  in  actual  effect  upon  the 
screws  of  the  machine.  It  will  therefore  be  seen  that  the 
engines  are  of  great  power  for  their  weight.  In  a  word, 
they  have  the  power  of  a  horse  for  the  weight  of  an  or- 
dinary barn-yard  fowl. 

After  the  accident  a  number  of  scientific  gentlemen 
visited  the  scene,  and  they  all  admitted  that  there  could 
be  no  question  about  the  machine  having-  actually  flown, 
because  it  had  moved  off  the  railroad  track  and  come 
down  on  the  soft  turf,  where  all  four  of  the  wheels  were 
deeply  embedded.  The  fact  that  there  were  no  other 
marks  on  the  turf  showed  that  the  machine  had  been 
stopped  in  the  air,  and  had  fallen  directly  downward  to 
the  earth. 

And  this  is  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  the  world 
that  a  machine  has  ever  been  made  strong  enough  and 
at  the  same  time  light  enough  to  raise  itself  from  the 
earth. 


MQLLIE   REJOICES. 

T  THANK  my  stars  I'm  not  a  cow, 
I  really  truly  do. 

With   naught  but  jjrass  to  eat  all  day, 
And  naught  to  say  but  "Moo!" 

For  instance,  if  the  donkey  came 

And  asked  me   lion-  I  did, 
I'd  have  to  answer  him  with  "Moo!" 

Just  like  a  little  kid. 

Or  if  the  do«j  harked  at  my  heels, 

As  he  would  do,  past  doubt, 
The  same  old  word  would  have  to  do 
.     For  "collie,  bow-wow,  get   out!" 

No  matter  what,  I  wisbeil  to  say, 
The  same  'twould  be  all  through, 

My  conversation  would  be  lim- 
ited to  ''  Moo-oo-ooh !" 


JANUARY  29,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


239 


SOME    THINGS 


THAT    LITTLE 
MAKE. 


GIRLS   CAN 


AS  the  simplest  embroideries  and  paintings  may  prove  too 
nine]]  for  inexperienced  fingers,  it  seems  only  fair  that  lit- 
tle girls  should  lie  told  of  some  useful  birthday  and  Easter  pres- 
ents requiring  no  more  than  an  ordinary  knowledge  of  sewing 
and  a  few  inexpensive  materials.  If  there  is  a  man  or  boy  in 
the  house  who  hasn't  a  whisk-holder,  for  instance,  his  needs 
should  be  supplied  at  once  in  a  pretty  and  substantial  fashion. 

For  the  holder  shown  in  our  illustration  cut  two  round  pieces 
of  stout  pasteboard  six  and  a  half  inches  in  diameter.  Cover 
each  of  these  with  gold-brown  denim,  turning  over  the  boards  a 
margin  of  two  inches  or  so.  Baste  these  edges  down  neatlv, 
laying  the  extra  fulness  in  small  pleats. 

Make  two  circles  of  the  denim  four  inches  in  diameter,  turn 
under  the  edges,  and  hem  one  on  each  inner  or  pleated  side  of 
the  holder  to  cover  the  centres  of  the  circles. 

Lity  a  band  of  Persian  trimming  diagonally  across  oue  of  your 
circles,  and  fasten  it  firmly  at  the  ends  with  a  few  stitches. 

Sew  brown  spangles,  each  with  a  bead  in  the  centre,  irregular- 
ly below  the  band,  and  ornament  the  top  with  a  straggling  pat- 
tern of  gold  lace,  or  some  zigzags  in  gold  paint. 

Place  the  inner  parts  of  the  two  disks  together,  and  overseam 
four  inches  on  each  side.  The  open  space  at  the  top  should  be 
twice  as  great  as  that  at  thfe  bottom,  otherwise  the  whisk  would 
fall  through. 

Sew  a  loop  on  the  back  of  your  holder  to  hang  it  up  bv,  and 
put  in  a  brush  that  will  fit  comfortably  the  place  provided  for  it. 

To  make  a  very  pretty  bag  that  will  serve  as  catch-all,  or  as  a 
receptacle  for  soiled  handkerchiefs,  yon  will  require  half  a  yard 
of  India  silk  in  a  flowered  pattern,  or  the  silk  and  cotiou  goods 
threaded  with  gold  in  Oriental  patterns  that  are  to  be  found  in 
any  upholstery  .shop,  a  five-cent  embroidery  hoop,  three-eighths 
•of  a  yard  of  silesia,  and  one  and  a  half  yards  of  iiich-and-a-half 
ribbon. 

Measure  the  silesia   plain  around  the  hoop,  leaving  room  for 
seam.     Sew  up  straight  to  within  eight   inches  of  the  bolt  .....  . 

then  begin  to  curve  both  sides  of  the  bag  inward  till  it  measures 
•only  three  inches  across  the  bottom.  Then  cut  off  the  extra, 
material. 

Turn  the  top  over  the  hoop  and  baste  in  place. 

Sew  the  silk  together  at  the  side,  but  leave  it  open  top  and 
bottom.  Make  a  narrow  hem  around  the  bottom. 

Tnrn  three  inches  under  at  the  top,  and  put  a  double  row  of 
,sliirriug. 

Slip  it  over  the  hoop  outside  the  silesia  bag,  and  hem  it  light- 
ly to  the  lining  at  the  edge  of  the  hoop,  the  ruffle  standing  above 
the  lining. 

Draw  the  lower  shirring  thread  and  tack  to  the  lining  just 
below  the  hoop. 

Sew  on  a  brass  ring  to  hang  it  up  by. 

Now  gather  the  silk  together  at  the  end,  about  two  inches 
from  the  hem,  and  tie,  (irmly  with  waxed  sewing-silk.  Pass  the 
ribbon  around,  and  tie  a  long  full  how. 

This  bag  may  be  made  of  plainer  materials,  or  turned  into  a 
very  handsome  affair,  as  the  maker  pleases. 

A  very  attractive  pin-cushion  can  be  made  like  the  illustration 
without  trouble  or  expense.  It  is  merely  an  ordinary  enshiou  four 
inches  square,  uot  stuffed  too  tight.  The  back  is  of  light-color- 


ed silk,  the  top  of  a  darker 
shade  of  the  same  or  some 
contrasting  eolor.  Magen- 
ta and  baby-pink,  old-gold 
and  straw-color,  mignon- 
ette and  lavender,  are  good 
combinations. 

Sew  a  full  gathered  ruffle, 
of  wide  white  chiffon  or 
soft  lace  around  the  back 
about  an  inch  from  the 
edge,  but  do  not  square  the 
corners. 

Use  seven-eighths  of  a 
yard  of  chiffon  or  lace  for 
the  top  frill,  bunching  the 
fulness  together  in  the 
middle. 

Fasten  it  in  the  centre 
of  the  cushion,  and  cover 
the  sewing  with  a  bow  of 
ribbon  oire  and  a  half 
inches  wide,  the  color  of 
the  silk. 

Catch  the  two  ruffles  to- 
gether at  regular  intervals 
with  tiny  bows  of  daisy 

ribbon  of  the  same  shade  as  the  back  of  the  cushion.  A  loop 
of  the  narrow  ribbon  is  then  stitched  over  the  chiffon  to  a 
corner  of  the  cushion  if  you  wish  to  hang  it  beside  the  dressing- 
table  glass. 

The  beauty  of  this  cushion  is  the  square  shape  under  a  double 
round  frill. 


THE    CATCH-ALL. 


TUB    PIN-CPSHION    ANP   WHISK-HOLPER. 


THE  STRANGE  ADVENTURES  OF  TOMMY 
TODDLES. 

BY     A  LI)  E  KT    LE  E. 
CHAPTER   VII. 

TOMMY  was  most  curious  to  know  what  this  fight  was  that 
his  new  acquaintance  had  been  talking  about,  and  alter 
they  had  walked  along  in  silence  for  a  few  moments  he  asked 
the  ex-Pirate  to  tell  him  about  it.  The  latter  expressed  some 
surprise  that  Tommy  should  have  known  nothing  about  it,  and 
asked  him  if  his  animals  had  not  told  him  about  it. 

"Why,  they  never  tell  me  anything,"  answered  Tommy. 
"  They're  wooden." 

'•They   wouldn't  f  said  the  ex -Pirate;    but  before  T my 

could  explain  the  misunderstanding  his  companion  began  tell- 
ing him  about  the  tight.  It  seems  that  the  Penguin  lived  in  a 
house  near  the  sea-shore,  and  was  the  editor  of  a  newspaper 
which  he  called  the  Tiilnl  U'<ir<:  In  it  he  chronicled  the  events 
of  the  animal  world,  and  frequently  said  pretty  sharp  things 
about  the  beasts,  the  birds,  and  the  fishes. 

"You  see,  the  Penguin  is  half  bird  and  half  fish,"  explained 
the  ex-Pirate,  "and  as  he  lives  on  land  he  counts  as  a  beast. 
Well,  it  seems  that  this  editorial  Penguin  had  made  some  sar- 
castic remarks  in  his  paper  about  the  Swonllish,  w  ho  was  a  cap- 
tain of  Sub-Marines;  and  the  Swordtish,  being  a  very  haughty 
personage,  had  taken  offence,  and  had  challenged  hiui  to  fight  'a 
duel.  The  Penguin,  although  he  was,  so  to  .speak,  a  man  of 
peace,  accepted,  and  all  the  beasts  and.  birds  and  fishes  were 
invited  to  witness  the  contest  and  to  decide  which  was  the 
mightier  of  the  two.  And  I  suppose  the  fight  took  [dace  to- 
day,"said  the  ex-Pirate  in  conclusion. 

"Who  won  ?"  asked  Tommy,  eagerly. 

"I  don't  know;  we'll  find  out  when  we  get  to  the  beach." 

By  this  time  they  were  Hearing  the  foot  of  the  hill.  The  road 
ran  alongside  of  a  stone  wall  that  was  just  about  as  hiuh  as 
Tommy's  head,  and  it  seemed  to  the  little  boy  that  lie  could 
hear,  now  and  then,  strange  sounds,  like  squeals,  coming  from 
the  other  side  of  it.  He  asked  the  Sheep  what  the  sounds  were. 

"That's  the  Guinea  Pig  .school  in  there, "said  the  latter. 

"It  must  be  recess,"  remarked  the  ex-Pirate.  "I  can  hear 
them  playing." 

"Are  there  Guinea  Pigs  on  the  other  side  of  that  wall?"  in- 
quired Tommy,  with  much  interest. 

"Hundreds  of  them, "said  the  ex-Pirate 

"Can't  we  climb  up  and  look  at  them  "." 

"Of  course   we  can;"  and  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell 


240 


HAKPEK'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


THE    SPOTTED    GUINEA    PIG    SAT    OUT    IN   FRONT    AND    BEAT    TIME    WITH    HIS    PAWS. 


about  it  all  three  had  clambered  to  the  top  of  the  wall,  and 
were  looking  down  into  the  Guinea  Pig  school-yard. 

"Where  is  the  school-house  ?"  asked  the  little  boy,  as  he  gazed 
at  the  hundreds  of  funny  little  animals  clambering  over  one  an- 
other, playing  tag  and  leap-frog,  and  every  now  and  then  giving 
vent  to  little  squeaks  of  delight.  They  did  not  even  notice  the 
three  on-lookers  sitting  on  the  wall,  so  busy  were  they  ill  having 
a  good  time. 

"Did  yon  know,"  said  the  ex-Pirate  to  Tommy,  "  that  if  you 
pick  up  a  Guinea  Pig  by  the  tail  his  eyes  will  fall  out  ?" 

"  Uucle  Dick  told  me  so  once,  but  I  did  not  believe  him." 

"Well,  I'll  show  you,"  said  the  ex-Pirate,  jumping  down  into 
the  play-ground.  He  approached  a  Guinea  Pig  who  was  not 
looking,  and  picked  him  up  by  the  tail.  Sure  enough,  his  eyes 
fell  out,  and  rolled  around  on  the  ground  with  a  most  terrified 
expression.  Then  the  ex-Pirate  put  the  little  beast  down  again, 
and  he  groped  about  until  he  found  his  eyes,  and  put  them  back 
where  they  belonged.  He  looked  quickly  about  to  see  who  had 
played  the  trick  on  him,  and  seeing  the  ex-Pirate  laughing,  he 
stuck  out  his  tongue  at  him,  and  rail  away  to  join  a  group  that 
was  playing  blind-man's-buff. 

"  Does  not  that  hurt  the  Guinea  Pig  ?"  asked  Tommy. 

"Certainly  not,"  replied  the  ex -Pirate;  "they  like  it.  It 
tickles  the  eyes  to  roll  about  like  that.  Dou't  you  see  them 
playing  blind-man's-buff  over  there?" 

"  Yes,"  assented  Tommy. 

"Well,  Guinea  Pigs  don't  carry  handkerchiefs,  so  they  have 
to  do  the  best  they  can  without  them.  The  way  they  get  around 
this  is  to  take  the  one  who  is  It,  hold  him  up  by  tin;  tail,  and  let 
his  eyes  fall  out.  Then  he's  just  as  blind  as  if  he  had  his  eyes 
bandaged  with  a  handkerchief." 

"And  it's  cheaper  too,"  added  the  Sheep,  as  he  fanned  himself 
with  his  hat. 

Tommy,  of  course,  was  much  surprised  at  all  the  ex-Pirate 
had  told  him,  but  he  said  to  himself'philosophically  that  so 
many  things  had  bren  surprising  that  afternoon  that  there  was  no 
reason  why  he  should  waste  any  emotion  on  the  Guinea  Pigs. 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  them  sing?"  asked  the  ex-Pirate. 

"  Can  they  sing  ?"  asked  the  little  boy,  gleefully. 

"They  tan  sing,"  answered  the  ex-Pirate,  "but  they  usually 
sing  only  just  before  vacation." 

"And— 

"And  now  it's  just  after  vacation." 


"I  wish  they  would  sing," 
said  Tommy ,  looking  up  at 
the  ex-Pirate  coaxiugly. 

"Perhaps  I  can  persuade 
them  to,"  said  the  latter, 
good  -  uaturedly,  for  he  un- 
derstood that  this  was  what 
Tommy  wanted  him  to  do. 
He  walked  over  toward  the 
group  that  was  playing 
blind-man's-buff.  As  soon 
as  they  saw  him  approach- 
ing they  scurried  off  in  ev- 
ery direction,  until  they 
considered  themselves  out 
of  his  reach,  and  then  they 
sat  up  on  their  haunches 
and  stuck  out  their  tongues, 
which  was  very  ill-bred  of 
the  Guinea  Pigs,  thought 
Tommy. 

"  I'm  not  going  to  hurt 
you,"  shouted  the  ex-Pirate. 
"  Honest?"  squeaked  a  lit- 
tle spotted  Guinea  Pig,  as 
hi;  put  his  fore  paws  up  to 
his  eyes  to  make  sure  they 
were  there. 

"  Really  I'm  not.  I  want 
you  to  sing." 

"It  is  not  time  to  sing 
yet,"  said  another  Guinea 
Pig,  who  looked  very  wise, 
and  winked  at  his  compan- 
ions as  if  he  had  discovered 
some  ruse  on  the  part  of 
their  visitor. 

"No  matter  about  that," 
urged  the  ex-Pirate.    "  Sing 
your  song,  and  make  believe  you  are  practising  for  vacation." 

This  suggestion  apparently  struck  the  Guinea  Pigs  favorably, 
for  at  heart  they  really  enjoyed  their  singing  very  much. 
They  all  huddled  together  and  held  an  excited  debate,  during 
which  there  were  no  end  of  squeaks  and  squeals,  and  they  final- 
ly decided  that  they  would  sing — just  once,  "for  practice." 

So  the  ex-Pirate  returned  and  sat  down  on  the  top  of  the 
stone  wall  next  to  Tommy  and  the  Sheep,  and  the  Guinea  Pigs 
approached  in  a  very  dignified  way,  and  arranged  themselves  iu 
a  semicircle  in  front  of  their  audience.  The  spotted  Guinea  Pig 
sat  out  in  front,  facing  the  others,  and  beat  time  with  his  fore 
paws,  while  the  others  sang  in  chorus  : 

"Oh,  let  us  away 

To  the  land  of  Kathay, 
Where  the  peppermint  candy  grows; 

Where  all  the  streets 

Are  paved  with  sweets, 
And  the  lemonade  river  flows. 

"  We'll  revel  in  quince, 

And  slices  of  mince, 
And  dine  on  chocolate-creams; 

And  visions  of  tarts 

Shall  please  our  hearts, 
And  fill  our  peaceful  dreams. 

"  Oh,  let  us  away 

To  fair  Eatbay; 
The  summer  days  are  coming. 

For  now  we  know 

It's  time  to  go  ; 
The  bumblebees  are  humming." 

The  ex-Pirate  then  thanked  the  little  fellows  for  their  song. 
But  they  soon  ran  away  again,  and  lifted  one  of  their  number 
up  by  the  tail  and  resumed  their  game  of  bliud-ruau's-buff. 

"  Where  is  the  land  of  Kathay?"  asked  Tommy,  as  soon  as  the 
Guinea  Pigs  had  gone. 

"  Oh,  it's  miles  and  miles  away,"  said  the  Sheep,  and  then  he 
jumped  down  from  the  top  of  the  wall,  and  told  his  companions 
to  hurry  along,  as  they  had  been  wasting  time  in  their  journey 
to  the  top  of  the  hill. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


1 

H 

:m 


HARPERS 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


Copyright,  1895,  by  HARPER  4  BROTHERS.     AH  Rights  Reserved. 


,t 


PUBLISHED    WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI. — NO.  797. 


NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY,  FEBRUARY  5,  1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPV. 
TWO  DOLLARS  A   TEAIt. 


THE     BLOWING     UP    OF    THE     IRONCLAD     "ALBEMARLE." 


BY    CAPTAINT    HOWARD    PATTERSON,  U.S.X. 


IT  is  tlie  night  of  October  27, 1864.     A  blockading  fleet 
of  Union  vessels  rides  at  anchor  off  the   harbor  of 
Plymouth,  North  Carolina.      Alongside  the  flag-ship  an 

open  launch  is  secured, 
her  after -part  made 
visible  to  those  on 
board  the  over-tower- 
ing ship  owing  to  the 
glow  that  comes  from 
the  open  door  of  the 
little  furnace.  The 
light  that  streams 
forth  also  throws  into 
relief  the  face  and  form 
of  the  engineer  as  he 
spreads  a  layer  of 
"green"  coals  over 
the  surface  of  the  fire, 
and  thrusts  the  slen- 
LIEUTENANT  GUSHING.  der  brass  spout  of  his 


oil-can  into  the  various  feed-cups  of  the  machinery. 
Just  abaft  the  cockpit,  holding  the  stern  of  the  launch 
to  the  frigate  by  means  of  a  boat-hook,  stands  a  blue- 
jacket, his  naked  feet  showing  as  two  white  patches 
on  the  lead-colored  planks.  Another  seaman  is  perform- 
ing a  similar  office  forward  in  the  bow,  while  several 
more  are  gathered  about  a  long,  curious- looking  spar 
carefully  secured,  with  its  cylinder-shaped  head  resting 
on  a  wad  of  cotton  waste;  but  these  men  are  lost  to  view, 
owing  to  the  gloom  of  their  situation,  which  is  deepened 
by  contrast  to  the  firelight  aft.  At  the  open  gangway  of 
the  flag-ship  two  officers  stand  conversing.  Beside  them 
a  gray-haired  quartermaster  is  stationed,  lantern  in  hand, 
to  light  the  way  down  the  ladder  that  leads  to  the  launch. 
In  the  shoulder-straps  of  one  of  the  officers  glistens  a  sin- 
gle silver  star,  which  denotes  his  Commodore's  rank,  while 
the  two  gold  bars  that  decorate  the  straps  of  the  other  show 
him  to  be  a  Lieutenant.  As  the  latter  is  observed  in  the 
ra\  s  of  the  lantern,  his  smooth  face  and  slender  figure  are 
suggestive  rather  of  extreme  youth  than  of  a  man  quail- 


242 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


fled  by  years  and  experience  to  assume  the  office  that  his 
uniform  represents.  The  gold  bands  around  his  coat 
sleeves  have  been  nobly  won,  however,  and  the  boy  of 
nineteen,  who  entered  the  service  three  years  previous  as 
a  master's  mate,  has  already  commanded  with  singular 
and  enviable  distinction  a  gunboat  of  the  blockading 
squadron.  There  is  a  touch  of  fatherly  tenderness  and  a 
depth  of  anxiety  in  the  old  Commodore's  voice  as  he  speaks: 

"Gushing,  my  boy,  you  are  going  to  almost  certain 
death;  the  rebels  have  learned  of  your  object,  and  are 
prepared  for  the  attempt.  The  Albemarle,  as  you  know, 
is  surrounded  with  heavy  floating  timbers  so  arranged 
that  you  cannot  get  within  thirty  feet  of  her,  and  unless 
you  can  succeed  in  laying  your  boat  alongside,  how  can 
you  expect  to  explode  the  torpedo?" 

The  lines  of  the  Lieutenant's  thinly  cut  mouth  deepen, 
and  the  brows  draw  ominously  down  over  the  flashing 
eyes. 

"  Commodore,  I've  got  my  plan  all  worked  out.  and 
I'll  carry  it  through  or  die  with  it!  If  I  don't  succeed  in 
destroying  that  ironclad,  she  will  come  out  here  before 
long,  and  perhaps  sink  the  fleet.  It's  worth  the  risk,  sir, 
and  I'm  willing  to  take  it  along  with  my  volunteer  crew." 
Then,  as  his  natural  spirit  of  recklessness  and  humor 
comes  to  the  surface  for  a  moment,  he  smiles  and  con- 
tinues, "  It's  either  another  stripe  or  death,  Commodore." 

The  flag-officer  presses  the  young  man's  hand,  while 
lie  says,  huskily,  "God  bless  and  grant  you  success  and 
a  safe  return !" 

Preceded  by  the  quartermaster,  Lieutenant  Gushing 
descends  the  gangway  ladder  and  drops  into  the  launch. 

"Lieutenant,"  says  the  old  man,  "there  won't  be  no 
sleep  in  the  fleet  to-night;  if  ye'll  hexcuse  the  liberty, 
sir,  I'll  be  a-prayiii'  for  ye." 

"All  right,  Lynch;  but  pray  hard,  for  I'll  need  it," 
replies  Gushing.  Then  he  looks  at  the  face  of  the  little 
dial  which  registers  the  steam-pressure,  and  turns  to  the 
engineer:  "Keep  a  full  head  of  steam  up,  but  be  careful 
not  to  let  her  get  so  much  that  she  will  open  the  safety- 
valve  and  let  Johnny  know  we're  coming."  Next  he 
goes  forward,  examines  closely  the  torpedo-spar,  stations 
his  small  crew,  orders  the  furnace  door  closed,  and  lays 
hold  of  the  steering  -  wheel  in  the  forward  cockpit. 
"Shove  off,"  he  orders. 

The  great  black  hull  of  the  flag-ship  slips  into  the  gloom 
ahead.  A  moment  later  the  propeller  churns  the  water, 
the  tiller  is  put  over  to  port,  the  head  of  the  launch 
swerves  to  starboard,  and  is  kept  steadily  pointed  towards 
Plymouth,  where  lies  the  great  rebel  ironclad  Albemarle, 
waiting-  only  for  the  time,  speedil3r  coming,  when,  with 
equipment  complete,  she  will  steam  out  to  do  battle  with 
the  wooden  walls  of  her  enemies. 

After  the  fleet  has  been  left  well  astern,  the  boyish 
commander  orders  the  engines  stopped,  and  calls  the 
men  around  him. 

"Boys,"  he  says,  "I'm  going  to  tell  you  my  plan,  so 
that  you  may  work  it  out,  if  possible,  in  case  anything 
happens  to  me  when  we  get  under  fire.  As  soon  as  I 
make  out  the  ship  and  get  my  bearings,  I'm  going  to  put 
on  a  full  head  of  steam,  and  jump  the  launch  over  the 
logs  that  surround  her  on  the  water  side.  Once  over  the 
spars,  it  will  be  only  a  few  feet  between  us  and  the  hull; 
so  we  must  have  the  torpedo  ready  to  push  under  the 
water  against  her  side  as  soon  as  we  get  near  enough. 
On  the  dock  that  she  is  moored  to  they  have  a  couple  of 
howitzers  and  a  company  of  sharp-shooters  to  help  guard 
the  approach  from  sea,  and  on  board  they  are  sure  to  be 
prepared  to  give  us  a  warm  welcome.  I  will  keep  the 
wheel  until  we  are  over  the  1<><^,  then  I  will  handle  the 
torpedo,  so  see  that  it  is  clear  for  me.  But  if  I  should  fall, 
try  to  carry  out  my  plan,  then  jump  overboard,  dive 
under  the  logs,  swim  across  the  river,  and  make  your 
way  down  along  the  bank  until  you  get  abreast  of  the 


fleet,  where  you  can  signal.  That  is  all,  except  to  strip 
yourselves  for  a  swim.  Do  you  understand?" 

"Ay,  ay,  sir,  we  understand,"  comes  the  answer  from 
the  handful  of  heroes. 

The  little  wheel  under  the  stern  of  the  launch  turns 
over  slowly  and  noiselessly  as  eager,  anxious  63-68  peer 
ahead  into  the  night. 

Suddenly  a  huge  blot  is  made  out  a  little  on  the  port 
bow,  and  a  moment  later  it  shapes  itself  into  the  outlines 
of  a  dock  with  a  great  vessel  lying  alongside. 

Out  of  the  gloom  rings  the  challenge,  "  Boat  ahoy  !" 

While  the  echo  of  the  last  word  trembles,  Gushing 
orders,  fiercely:  "  Give  it  to  her!  Steady,  boys!" 

The  engineer  opens  wide  the  valve,  and  throws  the 
wild  pressure  of  a  full  head  of  steam  into  the  cylinder. 
The  launch  jumps  forward  in  time  to  escape  a  shower 
of  iron  hail  that  ploughs  into  her  white  wake. 

Before  the  guns  can  be  pointed  anew  a  long  narrow 
barrier  washing  level  with  the  water  shows  a  few  feet 
ahead. 

A  sheet  of  flame  from  the  rifle -barrels  on  the  dock 
and  ship,  so  close  to  the  open  boat  that  it  scorches  the 
air  in  the  faces  of  the  crew,  makes  vivid  for  an  instant 
the  on-rushing  destroyer.  One  of  the  bluejackets  throws 
his  arms  up,  and  falls  face  downward  in  the  cockpit  just 
as  the  stem  of  the  launch  strikes  the  log. 

Will  she  go  over  it?  is  the  agonizing  thought  of  the 
brave  youth  who  stands  in  the  very  bosom  of  the  deadly 
tempest. 

The  head  of  the  boat  rears  itself  on  the  air  until  the  wa- 
ter is  splashing  into  the  stern-sheets  aft;  then,  without 
checking  her  mad  rush,  she  clears  the  barrier  like  a  stee- 
ple-chaser and  hurls  herself  forward. 

Another  volley  greets  them,  and  the  engineer  and  one 
more  of  the  sailors  go  down;  but  Lieutenant  Gushing 
springs  from  the  wheel,  grasps  the  torpedo-spar,  and  as 
the  bow  of  the  launch  strikes  the  rebel  ram  he  thrusts  it 
against  her  side  just  as  a  thick  storm  of  missiles  from  the 
howitzers  crashes  into  his  boat  and  shatters  it  to  pieces. 

But  the  doom  of  the  Albemarle  is  written.  An  awful 
rumbling  is  heard,  accompanied  by  the  sound  of  splin- 
tering timbers,  followed  by  a  towering  volume  of  torn 
and  maddened  waters  that  for  a  moment  hide  the  scene 
from  friend  and  foe,  and  under  cover  of  which  Lieuten- 
ant Gushing  regains  the  river  beyond  the  floating  logs. 

Mingled  shouts  of  command  and  cries  of  rage  are 
heard  by  the  swimmer  when  he  comes  to  the  surface 
after  his  plunge  under  the  barrier.  A  number  of  bullets 
whistle  above  his  head  and  patter  into  the  water  around 
him.  It  is  evident  that  lie  is  yet  within  the  range  of 
vision  of  the  sharp-shooters,  so  he  draws  a  long  breath 
and  sinks  below  the  level  again,  striking  out  strong,  and 
swimming  until  forced  to  regain  the  air. 

The  confusion  of  voices  is  yet  audible,  but  when  lie 
turns  his  eyes  in  the  direction  of  the  clamor  nothing  is 
visible  save  the  indistinct  outline  of  the  shore;  then  he 
knows  that  he  no  longer  affords  a  mark  for  the  soldiers 
on  the  dock. 

But  another  cause  of  alarm  is  quickly  manifest,  for  he 
catches  the  sound  of  the  thud  of  oars  as  they  pound 
against  the  rowlocks,  telling  him  that  the  enemy  have 
manned  a  boat  and  are  seeking  him.  Before  he  can  de- 
cide as  to  the  direction  in  which  to  swim  in  order  to  get 
out  of  the  track  of  the  on-coming  craft,  it  looms  up  only 
a  few  yards  from  him. 

There  is  only  one  course  to  pursue,  so,  catching  a  quick 
breath,  he  quietly  sinks,  and  the  boat  passes  over  the  spot 
where  the  bubbles  on  the  water  mark  his  disappearance. 

Until  he  experiences  a  sense  of  suffocation  he  remains 
under,  swimming  off  at  right  angles  to  the  path  of  his 
seekers,  so  that  his  head  may  not  be  in  line  with  the  eyes 
of  the  rowers  when  he  regains  the  surface. 

When  he  again  casts  his  anxious  eyes  around,  nothing 


FEBRUARY  5,  1S95. 


HAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


243 


is  seen,  so  he  throws  himself  on  his  back  and  floats  while 
recovering  his  strength,  and  shortly  after  strikes  out  for 
the  opposite  bank  of  the  river,  which  he  reaches  after  a 
weary  trial,  then  creeps  into  the  underbrush,  and  sleeps 
from  exhaustion. 

The  sun  is  high  when  he  awakes.  Parting  the  wild 
foliage,  he  looks  across  and  up  the  stream  at  the  scene  of 
his  exploit.  The  dock  is  plainly  to  be  seen,  but  the  Albe- 
marle  has  disappeared.  Looking  intently,  he  sees  two 
masts  rising  from  the  water  near  the  pier,  and  is  thus  as- 
sured that  the  career  of  the  rebel  ship  is  ended. 

Ha!  What  causes  that  rustling  of  the  foliage  to  his 
right?  Is  it  an  animal,  or  is  it  an  enemy  in  search  of  him? 

Almost  naked,  and  altogether  defenceless,  he  watches 
breathlessly. 

He  promises  himself  that  he  will  never  be  taken  alive. 
Better  to  die  than  to  endure  the  tortures  of  a  Southern 
prison.  The  bushes  part  a  little  further,  and  a  man's  sun- 
browned  face  and  brawny  bare  shoulders  and  tattooed 
arms  come  into  view. 

"Jack!"  says  the  Lieutenant,  in  a  loud,  glad  whisper. 

"Lieutenant!"  responds  the  seaman,  in  a  tone  of  equal 
surprise  and  gladness. 

All  day  the  officer  and  his  companion,  the  only  sur- 
vivors of  the  expedition,  work  their  way  painfully  through 
the  swamp,  and  just  as  the  sun  is  sinking  they  drag  their 
bare  bleeding  feet  and  cruelly  lacerated  bodies  out  on  the 
bank  of  the  river  opposite  the  Union  fleet. 

All  hands  have  been  called  to  "  make  sunset," and  the 
men  are  silently  standing  by  the  signal  halyards  and  boat- 
falls  waiting  for  the  word  of  command,  when  the  quarter- 
master on  the  bridge  of  the  flag-ship  quickly  levels  his 
telescope  at  the  shore,  then  hurriedly  approaches  and  ad- 
dresses the  officer  of  the  deck,  who  stands  beside  the  Cap- 
tain. The  latter  takes  the  glass  from  the  seaman,  peers 
through  it  for  an  instant,  wheels  sharply  around,  and 
speaks  to  the  Lieutenant. 

"  Away,  first  cutter!"  roars  the  latter. 

The  boatswain's  mate  blows  a  shrill  pipe,  and  repeats 
the  order. 

"Go  down  the  boat -falls,  boys;  lively's  the  word! 
Jump  into  the  cutter,  Mr.  Arnold,  and  pull  into  the  beach 
for  the  men  1" 

Half  an  hour  later  Lieutenant  Gushing  comes  over  the 
gangway,  and  salutes  the  Commodore.  "  I  report  my  re- 
turn 011  board  with  one  man,  sir,"  he  says;  "the  Albe- 
marle  is  destroyed." 


WATER   COLDER   THAN   ICE. 

BY  GIFFORD  LE  CLEAR 

THE  freezing-point  of  water  is  32°  by  the  Fahrenheit  ther- 
mometer; but  it  is  possible,  by  taking  certain  precautions, 
to  cool  water  several  degrees  below  the  freezing-point  without 
its  freezing. 

The  experiment  can  be  performed  with  very  cheap  and  simple 
apparatus,  but  it  requires  some  little  care  to  carry  it  through 
successfully.  The  apparatus  you  need  is  a  "test-tube"  about 
half  an  inch  in  diameter  (you  can  get  this  from  any  druggist 
for  a  cent  or  two)  and  a  cheap  thermometer ;  also  some  salt 
and  cracked  ice  or  snow,  and  a  eontainiug-vessel  about  the  size 
of  a  quart  measure. 

lu  the  first  place,  clean  the  test-tube  thoroughly;  then  put  in 
about  an  inch  and  a  half  of  pure  water,  distilled,  if  you  can  get 
it,  and  boll  over  a  caudle  flame  to  remove  the  air  from  the  water. 
Boil  away  the  water  so  that  there  is  just  enough  left  to  cover 
the  bulb  of  the  thermometer  when  it  is  placed  in  the  test-tube. 

Mark  with  a  tile  the  freezing-point  on  the  stem  of  the  ther- 
mometer, and  remove  from  the  board  to  which  it  is  fastened. 
Put  the  thermometer  in  the  test-tube  so  that  the  bulb  is  just 
clear  of  the  bottom  of  the  tube,  holding  it  there  by  means  of 
a  piece  of  pasteboard,  which  rests  on  the  top  of  the  tube  and 
through  which  the  thermometer  passes.  Now  put  a  couple  of 
drops  of  oil  in  the  test-tube.  This  will  spread  and  form  a  thin 
film  over  the  surface  of  the  water.  The  test-tube  is  now  to  be 
put  in  a  mixture  of  salt  and  crushed  ice. 


Salt  always  tries  to  unite  with  water  whenever  it  can.  It 
even  takes  it  from  the  atmosphere  on  damp  days.  The  salt  over 
the  cracked  ice  wishes  to  unite  with  the  water  of  which  the  ice 
is  composed,  but  cannot  do  so  till  the  ice  is  melted.  As  the  salt 
cannot  melt  the  ice  of  itself,  it  calls  upon  all  neighboring  sub- 
stances to  help  it.  Now  it  requires  heat  to  melt  ice,  and  so  the 
only  way  the  neighboring  substances  cau  melt  the  ice  is  to  givr 
up  their  own  heat :  consequently  they  grow  cold,  and  we  call  a 
mixture  of  salt  and  ice  a  cooling  mixture.  The  mixture  of  this 
experiment  should  he  about  one-third  salt,  but  care  should  be 
taken  not  to  let  the  mixture  fall  below  15°  Fahrenheit. 

When  you  put  the  test-tube  in  the  cooling  mixture,  the  mer- 
cury of  the  thermometer  will  begin  to  descend  very  rapidly,  but 
if  you  keep  everything  very  still  the  mercury  will  not  stop  at 
•  >'l  .  as  you  would  expect  it  to,  but  will  travel  on  down  past  3.'°. 

Now  watch  the  mercury  very  carefully,  for  after  it  reaches  a 
certain  point  it  will  rise  to  32°  so  quickly  that  you  may  not  see 
it  if  you  look  away  for  an  instant.  When  the  mercury  has 
jumped  iu  this  way  to  32°,  remove  the  test-tube,  and  you  will 
find  the  water  in  it  frozen. 

Melt  the  water  by  the  heat  of  your  hand,  and  repeat;  but 
when  the  mercury  has  almost  reached  the  point  from  which  it 
jumped  to  32°  before,  remove  the  test-tube  carefully,  and  you 
will  find  that  the  water  is  not  frozen.  Here  you  have  water 
colder  than  ice.  Now  comes  the  prettiest  part  of  the  experi- 
ment. Move  the  thermometer  ever  so  little,  and  instantly,  be- 
fore your  very  eyes,  the  water  will  freeze.  At  the  same  time 
the  mercury  will  rise  to  32°.  It  would  seem,  then,  that  water  in 
freezing  gives  out  heat.  This  is  perfectly  true,  and  will  hear 
thinking  over  a  little. 

Now  repeat  the  experiment,  but  instead  of  freezing  the  water 
by  moving  the  thermometer  drop  iu  a  very  small  piece  of  ice. 
As  before,  the  water  will  instantly  freeze.  Sometimes  the  mer- 
cury will  fall  to  32°  and  stay  there.  This  shows  that  the  water 
has  frozen,  and  you  must  try  again. 

The  exact  reason  for  this  phenomenon  is  not  known.  In  fact, 
no  one  is  quite  sun-  just  what  the  oil  does.  One  of  its  duties, 
at  least,  may  be  to  keep  the  air  away  from  the  water:  but  just 
why  the  air  must  be  kept  away,  it  is  hardly  safe  to  say.  How- 
ever, if  you  do  not  boil  the  water  at  first,  so  as  to  remove  the 
air  from  the  water,  the  experiment  will  almost  certainly  fail. 


A   RUSSIAN    SLED. 

rilO  think  of  Russia  is  to  think  of  six-month  winters,  of 
J.  long  low  sleighs  dashing  over  country  roads  behind 
sturdy  horses  with  bells  hung  on  yokes  over  their  shoul- 
ders, of  log  houses  half  buried  in  snow,  and  of  peasants 
in  sheepskin  coats  with  the  wool  turned  inside.  Living 
in  Russia  is  not  so  pleasant  as  living  in  the  west  of  Eu- 
rope. Siberia  is  near,  and  grown-up  people  who  do  not 
have  the  same  opinions  as  the  majority  of  their  fellow- 
subjects  are  put  in  prison  or  set  to  work  in  mines  like 
criminals.  Neither  is  being  a  boy  in  Russia  as  much  fun 
as  being  a  boy  in  the  United  States,  especially  if  the  Rus- 
sian boy  happens  to  be  a  peasant.  He  does  not  have  to  go  to 
school,  because  there  is  no  public-school  system  in  Russia, 
and  learning  is  considered  by  the  government  a  danger- 
ous thing,  suited  only  to  the  rich  and  the  nobility.  But 
lack  of  school  does  not  mean  leisure  for  the  Russian  pea- 
sant boy,  who  begins  to  work,  as  a  matter  of  course,  al- 
most as  soon  as  he  can  walk,  and  grows  up  to  a  life  of 
hardship,  with  little  prospect  of  becoming  anything  but 
a  tiller  of  the  soil  for  some  rich  man,  who  will  hold  a 
mortgage  on  his  land,  his  crops,  and  pretty  nearly  every- 
thing else  that  is  worth  mortgaging. 

But  the  Russian  boy.  like  every  other,  has  his  hours  of 
fun.  He  cannot  work  all  through  the  long  cold  winter, 
and  it  is  then  that  he  enjoys  most  of  his  sports.  Snow 
is  to  him  as  natural  a  form  of  water  as  any  other,  and  he 
makes  the  most  of  it  for  sleigh  -  riding,  coasting,  and 
building  block  -  houses,  very  much  as  the  lad  of  the 
northern  United  States  does,  while  the  rivers  and  lakes 
furnish  plenty  of  skating.  The  Norwegian  boy  combines 
his  sled  and  his  snow-shoes  in  the  form  of  skies,  whii'h 
are  long  strips  of  wood,  on  which  he  walks  and  coasts 
down  the  hills  and  through  the  valleys.  The  Russian 


244 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


AFLOAT  WITH    THE   FLAG.' 

BY     \V.  J.   HENDERSON. 


RUSSIAN    BOYS1   NOVEL   COASTING. 

peasant  boy's  sled  is  even  more  curious.  The  cold  wea- 
ther builds  it  for  him,  and  he  has  to  have  a  new  one 
every  winter,  for  it  is  nothing  more,  or  very  little  more, 
than  a  block  of  ice.  Riding  down  hill  on  a  cake  of  ice 
would  not  seem  to  us  very  amusing,  except,  perhaps,  to 
the  spectators,  who  might  enjoy  it  as  a  sort  of  frozen 
tub-race.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  though,  a  cake  of  ice  in 
the  hands  of  a  Russian  boy  will  make  a  very  good  and 
rapid  sled.  He  saws  out  a  block  that  is  longer  than  it  is 
thick,  and  about  high  enough  for  a  comfortable  seat. 
Then  he  scoops  out  a  hollow  like  a  saddle  a  little  back 
of  the  middle  of  the  upper  surface,  and  upholsters  it  with 
straw  or  rags.  It  is  then  ready  for  its  first  trip  down 
hill,  and  if  the  rider  is  skilful  he  will  make  very  good 
time  on  it.  But  carrying  it  back  to  the  top  of  the  in- 
cline would  be  too  hard  work  for  even  a  Russian  boy, 
and  pushing  it  up  bill  would  be  about  as  bad.  A  clever 
lad  once  thought  of  a  better  way,  and  all  other  boys 
have  copied  him  ever  since.  He  found  a  good  rye  straw, 
and  began  blowing  through  it  at  the  front  of  the  block 
with  the  end  of  the  straw  close  to  the  ice.  Soon  he  had 
a  little  hole  in  the  block,  as  neatly  drilled  as  a  steel  tool 
could  have  done  it.  In  the  course  of  an  hour  and  a  half 
he  had  driven  a  hole  slantwise  through  the  ice,  coming 
out  at  the  top  just  in  front  of  the  saddle.  A  stout  string 
passed  through  the  hole  and  knotted  completed  his  sled, 
which  could  then  be  drawn  up  hill  almost  as  easily  as 
the  best  coaster  that  ever  was  made.  If  a  boy  is  careful 
of  his  ice  sled — and  he  is  apt  to  be  careful,  for  consider- 
able work  is  necessary  to  make  one — it  will  last  all  win- 
ter. Imagine  him  freezing  on  a  new  set  of  runners  when 
the  old  ones  have  worn  out! 


CHAPTER     XXVII. 
HAROLD  USES    STRONG   WORDS. 

[SUPPOSE  we're  aboard  the   Aquida- 
&«»,"  said   Captain  Lockwood,  after   a 
few  moments  of  silence. 

"That  is 'true,"  said  Frank;  "though  for 
the  life  of  me  I  can't  understand  how  you 
came  here." 

"Lost  in  the  fog,  my  boy,  trying  to  get 
aboard  the  Alma." 

"Then  she  has  left  her  wharf?" 
"  Yes;  she's  safe  at  anchor." 
"And  you've  all  been   ashore  to  rescue 
Bob?" 

"That's  it." 

"  But,  Uncle  Hiram,  this  is  simply  terri- 
ble. He's  under  sentence  of  death,  and  here 
the  whole  lot  of  you  have  walked  straight 
into  the  lion's  jaws." 

"It  seems  that  I  am  doomed  to  bad  luck  !" 
i-xflainied  Robert.  "I'd  better  end  it  all 
now;  there's  plenty  of  water  here." 

He  made  a  movement  toward  the  ship's 
rail,  but  Harold  and  George  seized  him. 

"  Waitabit,  sir,"  said  Peter;  "  never  sink 
so  long  as  ye  can  swim,  an'  there  ain't  no 
hole  knocked  into  ye  yet." 

"  My  son,"  said  Captain  Lockwood,  "  there 
must  be  a  way  out  of  this.  Be  patient." 

"  Bob,  old  fellow,"  said  Frank,  "  I've  suf- 
fered enough  since  I  was  such  a  fool  as  to 
enlist  under  a  foreign  flag.  Don't  add  to 
my  misery.  We  must  find  a  way  to  save 
you.  Do  you  know  where  you  are?" 

"  Never  a  bit,  except  that  we're  on  Mel- 
lo's  deck,"  answered  the  Captain. 
"  You're  in  the  cove  just  south  of  the  Sugar  Loaf." 
"  Great  Scott!"  exclaimed  Hal;  "we  must  have  rowed 
over  four  miles  trying-  to  find  the  bark." 

"But  now  that  we're  here,"  said  Captain  Lockwood, 
"  what's  to  be  done  with  us?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Frank;  "I  haven't  made  any 
report  yet.  I  was  ordered  to  find  out  who  you  were  and 
what  you  were  about.  If  you'll  just  wait  here  till  I  re- 
port, I'll  soon  be  able  to  let  you  know." 

Frank  hastened  away,  and  laid  the  case  before  the 
officer  of  the  deck,  who,  fortunately,  chanced  to  be  his 
good  friend  Roderigo  Bennos. 

"  You  must  tell  the  Captain,"  said  Bennos. 
Accordingly  he  directed  Frank  to  carry  the  report  in 
person  to  the  Commanding  Officer.  The  boy  did  as  he 
was  ordered,  but  he  did  not  deem  it  necessary  to  say  that 
the  American  skipper  who  had  come  aboard  was  the  Cap- 
tain of  the  bark  Alma. 

"  Let  them  remain,"  said  the  Commanding  Officer. 
"  But  if  they  wish  to  go  ashore  when  the  fog  lifts?" 
"  Let  them  remain  till  I  am  ready  to  talk  with  them." 
Frank  saluted  and  left  the  cabin.     He  understood  that, 
although  nothing  of  the  kind  had  been  directly  said,  the 
Alma's  party  were  prisoners.      The  boy  was  hot  with  in- 
dignation, but  he  had  no  tangible  fact  to  grasp,  and  even 
if  he  had  he  would  not  have  profited  by  expostulation. 

"  You  are  to  remain  aboard  the  ship  for  the  present," 
he  said,  when  he  had  rejoined  his  friends. 
"  And  Bob?"  demanded  the  Captain. 
"Well,"  said   Frank,  "  perhaps  no  one  will  recognize 
him,  and  you  may  be  able  to  get  him  off  when  you  go." 

*  Beirun  in  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  No.  7S4. 


FEBRUARY  5,  1S95. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


245 


"But,"  said  Hal,  "if  they  should  afterward  discover 
who  he  was,  Frank,  you  would  be  in  serious  trouble  for 
letting  him  go." 

"  I'll  take  my  chances  of  that,"  said  Frank,  decisively. 

"God  bless  you!"  said  Captain  Lockwood,  wringing 
his  nephew's  hand. 

At  that  moment  the  shriek  of  a  boatswain's  pipe  arose, 
and  a  command  was  shouted. 

"What's  that?"  asked  George. 

"  It's  up  anchor,"  said  Frank;  "  I  suppose  we're  going 
up  the  bay.  We  came  down  only  last  night,  but  up  and 
down  like  a  seesaw  appears  to  be  a  large  part  of  our 
business." 

"  What's  to  become  of  my  boat?"  asked  the  Captain. 

"  We'll  tow  it  up,"  answered  Frank. 

"I  suppose  that  '11  do,"  said  the  Captain. 

He  was  by  no  means  satisfied  with  the  aspect  of  af- 
fairs, yet  there  was  nothing  that  seemed  to  call  for  a 
serious  complaint.  The  monotonous  clanking  of  the 
heavy  cable  was  now  the  only  sound  that  disturbed  the 
night.  The  fog  was  drifting  off  in  writhing  shreds 
among  the  crannies  of  the  mountains,  and  the  dim  light 
of  a  young  crescent  moon  fell  across  the  peaceful  waters. 
Presently  the  ship  began  to  swing  slowly  around,  show- 
ing that  the  anchor  was  a  weigh.  Then  the  calm  of  the 
night  was  suddenly  broken  by  the  blare  of  a  bugle. 

"What's  that?"  asked  Hal,  with  a  sudden  start. 

"That's  quarters,"  said  Frank;  "we  never  attempt  to 
go  into  the  bay  without  going  to  quarters.  As  soon  as 
we  poke  our  bow  out  of  the  cover  of  this  mountain  Fort 
Santa  Cruz  will  open  on  us." 

"But,"  said  Hal,  sternly,  "your  commander  has  no 
right  to  put  us  under  fire  of  the  fort.  Your  uncle  and 
cousin  are  non-combatants,  and  George  and  I  are  officers 
in  the  service  of  a  neutral  power." 

"I  know  all  that, 
Hal,"  said  Frank.  "I'll 
see  Uncle  Hiram  and 
Minnie,  together  with 
Bob,  in  a  place  of  safety 
— though,  for  the  matter 
of  that,  almost  any  place 
is  safe,  for  they  seldom 
hit  us — but  I  don't  see 
that  I  can  do  anything 
for  you." 

"Let  me  see  the  Cap- 
tain." 

Harold's  request  was 
taken  to  the  cabin,  and 
he  was  invited  to  enter. 
An  interpreter  had  to  be 
provided,  and  then  the 
boy  said : 

"We  are  citizens  of 
the  United  States  placed 
aboard  your  vessel  by  ac- 
cident. Our  boat  is  tow- 
ing astern,  and  we  desire 
to  leave  your  ship." 

"It  is  not  convenient 
for  me  to  stop  now,"  was 
the  reply. 

"I  protest,  sir,  against 
your  course  as  outrage- 
•ous,"  said  the  boy  firmly. 

"  Your  protest  is  of  no 
avail,"  was  the  answer. 

"You  have  no  right 
to  place  two  American 
officers  and  an  American 
seaman  under  fire,"  said 
Harold. 


"  If  the  American  officers  are  afraid  they  are  at  liberty 
to  go  below  the  water- line,"  said  the  Brazilian  com- 
mander. 

"Afraid!"  exclaimed  Harold.  "We  come  from  the 
Detroit." 

At  these  words  the  Brazilian's  face  became  very  stern. 

"You  will  remain  aboard  this  ship, "he  said,  "till  we 
reach  our  anchorage.  We  shall  then  set  you  ashore; 
not  before.  As  for  the  merchant  Captain  and  his  chil- 
dren we  shall  do  as  we  like  with  him." 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  said  Harold,  taking  advantage  of  the 
officer's  mistake;  "I  shall  make  it  my  business  to  have 
this  affair  reported  in  detail  to  Admiral  Benham,  and  if 
you  do  the  slightest  harm  to  Captain  Lockwood  or  his 
children  you  may  rely  upon  it  that  the  commander  of 
the  American  fleet  will  blow  you  out  of  the  water." 

With  these  words  the  boy  turned  and  strode  out  of  the 
cabin  without  saluting. 

CHAPTER    XXVIII. 
A    SHELL    THROUGH    THE    PORT. 

THE  boy  rejoined  his  party  on  deck,  and  reported  the 
failure  of  his  mission. 

"They're  a  fine  lot,"  said  Captain  Lockwood. 

At  this  moment  Frank,  who  had  been  attending  to 
his  duties  in  preparing  the  guns  for  action,  returned. 
"Come,"  he  said  to  Captain  Lockwood,  "you  and  3Iin- 
nie  and  Bob  must  be  put  in  a  place  of  safety." 

"I  wouldn't  go  if  it  wasn't  for  her,"  said  the  sturdy 
old  seaman. 

"Oh,  nonsense!"  exclaimed  George.  "You  don't 
want  to  give  these  fellows  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  you 
hurt,  do  you?  Besides,  it  may  prevent  Bob  from  being 
recognized." 


HAROLD    SPRANG    FORWARD    WITH    A    LOUD   CRY,  "IT'S    FRANK!" 


246 


HARPER'S   YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


They  all  descended  to  the  gun-deck,  where  Frank 
paused  to  point  out  to  them  the  particular  gun  which  he 
commanded. 

"I  don't  wonder  you're  sick  of  the  whole  business," 
said  Hal. 

Just  then  the  Captain  of  the  ship  appeared,  and  calling 
Frank  to  him,  asked  what  he  was  doing.  The  boy  ex- 
plained briefly.  The  Brazilian  Captain  smiled  and  said, 

''Tell  your  two  young  naval  friends  that  I  should  be 
delighted  to  give  them  guns  to  command." 

"I  wonder  what  he's  talking  about?"  asked  George, 
who  saw  from  the  man's  face  that  the  words  referred  to 
himself  and  Harold. 

Frank  went  over  to  the  boys  and  repeated  his  superior 
officer's  words. 

"The  impudent  old  scoundrel !"  exclaimed  George. 

"Bully  boy!"  said  Captain  Lock  wood. 

Minnie's  face  expressed  alarm  mingled  with  admira- 
tion for  the  boy's  boldness.  The  Brazilian  commander 
stepped  over  to  where  they  were  standing. 

"Accept  my  compliments,  sir,"  said  Harold,  looking 
the  Brazilian  full  in  the  eye,  "and  understand  that  we 
both  command  guns  which  your  friends  aboard  the 
Guanabara  did  not  care  to  hear  speak." 

The  officer's  face  flushed,  and  he  spoke  sharply  to 
Frank. 

"Put  those  two  young  men  under  arrest." 

Frank  turned  pale,  and  stood  speechless  and  motion- 
less. 

"Do  you  hear  my  order?"  demanded  the  Captain. 

"Sir," said  Frank,  drawing  his  sword,  and  offering  the 
hilt  to  his  commander,  "I  cannot  obey  that  order." 

The  Brazilian  stood  for  an  instant  regarding  the  boy 
with  amazement. 

"  Cannot  obey  !"  he  ejaculated. 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Frank ;  "  these  gentlemen  are  my  coun- 
trymen, my  classmates,  my  friends.  It  is  not — 

"  Enough,  sir!     Do  as  I  bid  you,  or  I  will — 

"I  don't  care  what  you  do,"  cried  Frank.  "I  have 
suffered  too  much  already  in  the  service  of  a  foreign  flag. 
I  have  tried  to  resign,  but  you  have  refused  to  let  me. 
Now  I  wish  I  could  die.  But  so  sure  as  there  is  a  sun 
in  the  heavens,  so  sure  will  I  refuse  now  and  forever  to 
lift  my  hand  against  the  American  flag  or  any  man  who 
serves  it." 

The  Brazilian  drew  his  revolver  and  levelled  it  at  the 
boy.  Harold  and  George  both  sprang  before  him,  the 
former  seizing  his  arm. 

"Here,  arrest  these  two  fellows!"  cried  the  officer  to 
the  nearest  gun's  crew. 

"Are  you  crazy?"  asked  Harold. 

At  that  instant  the  heavy  roar  of  a  gun  from  Fort 
Santa  Cruz  was  heard,  and  a  deafening  crash  told  that  a 
well-aimed  shot  had  struck  the  Aqufdaban  above  the 
deck.  Captain  Lockwood  threw  his  arms  around  his  ter- 
rified daughter  and  drew  her  to  his  breast.  The  Brazil- 
ian commander  with  a  mighty  effort  gained  control  of 
himst'l  f. 

"  We  shall  speak  of  this  matter  at  another  time,"  he 
said  to  Frank.  "Your  friends  may  remain  at  liberty. 
To  your  station !" 

The  boy  saluted  and  went  to  his  gun.  A  petty  officer 
led  Captain  Lockwood,  Robert,  and  Minnie  to  a  safe  place 
behind  the  armor  belt.  Harold  and  George  remained  on 
the  gun  deck  quietly  watching  the  operations.  The  lei- 
surely manner  of  the  Brazilians  caused  the  American 
boys  to  smile  contemptuously. 

"No  wonder  this  war  lasts  so  long,"  said  George. 

"And  no  wonder  so  little  is  accomplished,"  added 
Harold. 

For  once,  however,  the  soldiers  of  the  Republic  in  the 
forts  seemed  to  be  aroused  to  activity.  The  scene  be- 
came intensely  interesting.  The  powerful  battle-ship  was 


weak  in  propelling  force,  her  engines  being  in  poor  order, 
and  she  moved  through  the  narrow  entrance  to  the  har- 
bor slowly.  She  was  a  shining  mark  in  the  faint  moon- 
light, and  had  the  soldiers  been  better  shots  great  dam- 
age might  have  been  done  to  her.  She  was  a  noble  sight. 
as  she  thundered  up  the  bay,  her  sides  ablaze  with  the 
constant  flashing  of  her  mighty  guns,  and  a  vast  canopy 
of  gray  smoke  rolling  over  her.  The  forts  every  second 
sprang  into  red  and  glowing  relief  against  the  hills  as 
their  bellowing  guns  lit  up  the  night  and  set  the  echoes 
booming  along  the  rocky  crests.  Occasionally  a  terrific 
shock  would  be  felt  as  a  heavy  missile  struck  one  of  the 
turrets  or  the  armor-belt  of  the  Aquidaban,  but  as  a 
rule  the  shots  passed  harmlessly  above  her  decks  or 
plunged  into  the  water,  sending  tall  columns  of  ghostly 
spray  up  into  the  moonlight. 

Frank  Lockwood  was  doing  his  duty  with  reckless 
bitterness.  He  watched  the  range,  and  kept  the  breech- 
sight  rightly  placed  with  ceaseless  vigilance.  He  was 
continually  running  from  the  breech  of  his  gun  to  the 
port  and  giving  directions  to  the  gun-captain.  He  seemed 
to  be  determined  that  the  weapon  should  do  deadly  work. 

"Stupid!"  he  exclaimed  to  the  gun-captain,  "you  pull 
your  lanyard  before  you  have  covered  your  mark.  What 
is  the  use  of  wasting  ammunition  so?" 

The  man  muttered  something  in  Portuguese. 

"  Any  American  cadet  can  shoot  better.  George,  come 
and  show  him  how  to  hit  the  fort." 

"  Of  course  I  will,"  exclaimed  George. 

He  sprang  forward,  and  was  about  to  take  the  lanyard 
from  the  man's  hand  when  Harold  seized  his  arm: 

"  What  on  earth  are  you  thinking  about?"  cried  Hal. 
"  Do  you  want  to  be  dismissed  from  the  service?" 

"Dismissed?     Wliy?"  asked  George,  pausing. 

"For  firing  on  a  friendly  fort." 

"But  it  is  not  I  wlio  fire,"  said  George.  "It's  the 
Aquiddban." 

"Nonsense!"  exclaimed  Harold. 

"  It's  good  sense,  I  think, "declared  George. 

"No,  old  man,  you're  wrong." 

"  Well,  the  skipper  '11  never  know  anything  about  it." 

"  You  can't  be  sure  of  that." 

"You  would  tell?" 

"No;  but  such  things  can't  be  kept  secret.  Some  of 
these  men  would  talk  about  it,  and  it  would  eventually 
become  known." 

"Come,  come!"  cried  the  division  officer.  "Why  is 
that  gun  silent?" 

Frank  stepped  forward  and  took  the  lanyard  from 
George's  hand. 

"  Harold  is  right,''  he  said.  "  I  am  the  only  American 
naval  cadet  who  has  a  right  to  do  this — I,  Frank  Lock- 
wood,  the  mercenary." 

The  boy  bent  down  and  glanced  along  the  sights,  giv- 
ing orders  to  the  trainers  and  elevators  in  a  firm  tone. 
Suddenly  he  jerked  the  lanyard,  and  the  gun  roared  out 
its  message.  At  almost  the  same  instant  there  was  a 
deafening  report,  a  blinding  glare,  and  a  great  cloud  of 
dust  and  smoke.  A  small  shell  from  the  fort  had  en- 
tered the  port  and  exploded  against  the  gun-carriage, 
shattering  it  and  dismounting  the  gun.  For  a  few  sec- 
onds no  one  could  see  what  had  happened.  A  moment 
later  the  smoke  cleared  away,  and  it  was  discovered  that 
one  man  lay  stretched  upon  the  deck.  Harold  sprang; 
forward  with  a  loud  cry: 

"It's  Frank!" 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


A     VARIATION. 
'I  CANNOT  go  to  school  to-day." 

"What,  sick   ajiniii  ?"  Tom's  mother  said. 
'Oh   no;  I'm  well,  anil  full  of  play  ; 
This  time   the  teacher's  sick  in  bed!" 


FEBRUARY  5,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


247 


THE   RED   DEVILS'   RESCUE. 

BY  L.  A.  TEREBEL. 

rTIHEY  called  it  the  Red  Devil  Snow-shoe  Club,  because 
_L  the  members  wore  red  toques  and  red  stockings  and 
red  mittens  and  red  mufflers,  and  every  other  piece  of  ap- 
parel of  a  red  hue  that  they  could  possibly  secure.  Bob 
Moreley  was  elected  president  of  the  club  and  chief  Red 
Devil,  principally  because  he  had  a  complete  suit  made 
out  of  a  red  blanket;  but  it  turned  out  afterwards  that 
Bob  had  other  qualities  which  fairly  entitled  him  to  the 
highest  office  in  the  organization.  In  addition  to  Bob 
there  were  fifteen  other  Red  Devils. 

Up  in  New  Hampshire,  where  there  is  no  nonsense 
about  winter,  the  snow  comes  with  Santa  Claus,  and 
buries  the  whole  country-side  in  deep  drifts,  which  stay 
right  there  until  spring.  And  so  almost  every  Saturday 
during  the  cold  months  the  Red  Devils,  in  all  their  crim- 
son glory,  would  gather  in  front  of  Bob  Moreley's  house, 
and  Tad  Wallace  would  drag  up  the  club's  baby  tobog- 
gan, the  "Whizzer,"  and  Bob's  mother  would  pack  the 
basket  with  sandwiches  and  apples,  and  then  Tad,  as  com- 
missary of  the  organization,  would  strap  the  basket  se- 
curely to  the  "  Whizzer,''  and  tie  a  fagot  of  dry  wood  on 
top  of  it,  and  Bob  would  give  the  command,  and  the  red 
company  would  swing  out  into  the  road  and  over  the 
fields  toward  the  river  or  the  woods.  At  the  end  of  a 
couple  of  hours'  march  Bob  would  call  a  halt,  camp  would 
be  formed,  and  Tad  would  build  the  fire  and  heat  the  tea 
or  coffee  that  had  been  provided  for  the  Red  Devils,  and 
then  each  Red  Devil  would  get  his  share  in  a  tin  cup, 
and  sandwiches  and  apples  from  the  basket. 

"There's  going  to  be  great  doings  at  our  house  in  a 
couple  of  weeks,"  said  Tad,  as  the  Red  Devils  sat  around 
their  camp-fire  the  first  Saturday  after  New- Year's.  "  It's 
father's  and  mother's  golden  anniversary  of  their  wed- 
ding on  the  28th,  and  all  my  brothers  and  sisters  are  com- 
ing home  to  celebrate." 

"  Hurrah !"  shouted  Bob.  "  And  will  the  Red  Devils 
be  in  it?" 

"  Will  they  be  in  it?"  said  Tad,  with  emphasis.  "Well 
— will  they?"  And  all  the  boys  laughed.  But  when  he 
said  this  Tad  had  no  idea  how  very  much  "in  it  "  the 
Red  Devils  would  be. 

On  the  morning  of  the  26th  the  skies  became  very  dark, 
and  a  thin  flue  snow  began  to  fall.  Then  the  wind  rose 
and  blew  fiercer  and  fiercer  all  the  afternoon,  until  by 
night  a  storm  was  raging  such  as  had  not  been  known 
since  the  great  blizzard.  The  next  morning  it  was  im- 
possible to  move  about  the  streets.  Drifts  ten  and  twelve 
feet  high  hid  the  fences,  the  roads  were  entirely  oblit- 
erated, and  horses  and  sleighs  were  not  even  to  be 
thought  of.  The  operator  at  the  railroad  station  sent 
word  up  to  the  Wallaces  that  no  trains  could  get  through 
in  either  direction  that  day,  as  the  road  was  completely 
blocked,  and  the  wires  were  down  on  all  sides.  Of  course 
no  one  knew  whether  the  special  car  with  the  anniver- 
sary guests  had  started  from  Boston,  and  as  the  telegraph 
wires  were  down,  the  only  thing  to  do  was  to  await  de- 
velopments. It  was  still  snowing,  and  the  big  flakes 
kept  on  falling  all  the  day  of  the  27th,  and  did  not  cease 
until  late  in  the  night.  The  village  was  as  if  dead,  ex- 
cept for  the  smoke  that  curled  up  out  of  all  the  chimneys. 
Everything  was  snow-bound. 

When  the  towns-people  got  up  on  the  morning  of  the 
28th  they  set  to  work  to  burrow  through  the  drifts,  and 
some  of  the  more  venturesome  ones  struggled  as  far  as 
the  butcher's  or  the  grocer's  for  provisions.  It  was  the 
day  of  the  golden  anniversary,  but  there  were  no  guests 
on  hand  to  celebrate. 

News  came,  however,  at  ten  o'clock  that  morning.  A 
man,  all  covered  with  ice  and  snow,  struggled  into  the 
village  and  battled  his  way  through  the  billowy  streets  to 


the  Wallace  house,  where  he  fell  exhausted  at  the  door- 
step. He  was  taken  into  the  kitchen,  where  he  was  grad- 
ually revived  under  warm  drinks  and  chafing;  but  no 
one  knew  who  he  was,  and  it  was  some  time  before  he 
could  speak.  Tad's  father  and  mother  were  there,  and 
Tad  was  there,  and  beside  him  stood  Bob  Moreley,  who 
had  ploughed  his  way  through  the  drifts  to  make  a  morn- 
ing call. 

Finally  the  man  recovered  strength  enough  to  explain 
that  he  was  a  farmer  who  lived  about  six  miles  from  the 
village,  not  far  from  where  the  railroad  tracks  turn  the 
swamp.  He  said  a  train  had  gotten  stalled  in  the  snow 
near  there  the  day  before,  and  that  the  people  could  get 
nothing  to  eat,  as  there  were  no  houses  near  but  his, 
and  what  little  store  he  had  was  exhausted.  There  were 
women  and  children  on  the  train,  and  one  child  was  very 
sick.  He  had  started  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  for 
help,  and  he  had  a  letter  from  one  of  the  passengers  for 
Mr.  Wallace.  The  letter  was  from  Tad's  eldest  brother, 
and  it  said  that  the  party  in  the  special  car  was  suffering 
greatly  from  hunger,  that  his  youngest  child  must  have 
a  doctor  or  it  might  not  live,  and  that  one  of  the  trainmen 
had  both  feet  frozen. 

"It's  no  use,  though,"  sighed  the  man.  "We  can't 
help  'em.  The  drifts  are  twenty  feet  deep,  and  the  train's 
fully  six  miles  from  here.  No  horse  or  sleigh  can  travel 
the  road.  A  hundred  men  could  not  reach  'em." 

"No,"  shouted  Bob  Moreley,  "but  the  Red  Devils  can. 
The  Red  Devils  to  the  rescue!"  And  he  rushed  out  of 
the  kitchen  like  a  wild  man. 

Tad  had  caught  his  meaning  at  once,  and  began  to  ex- 
plain to  his  father  that  the  Red  Devils  would  put  on  their 
snow-shoes,  and  travel  over  the  thin  crust  across  country, 
over  the  swamp  about  four  miles,  and  take  relief  to  the 
snow  bound  sufferers.  The  "Whizzer"  was  quickly 
brought  out,  and  another  old  toboggan  was  dragged 
down  from  the  stable  loft.  Tad's  mother  and  the  ser- 
vants worked  as  fast  as  their  hands  could  move  packing 
the  good  tilings  that  had  been  intended  for  the  anniver- 
sary dinner,  and  in  less  than  an  hour  the  "Whizzer" 
and  the  old  toboggan  were  heaped  with  baskets.  In  the 
mean  while  the  Red  Devils,  summoned  by  Bob,  had  been 
arriving,  one  by  one. 

"  But  how  about  the  doctor?"  asked  Tad's  mother. 

Mr.Wallace  had  sent  for  the  doctor,  and  he  was  in  the 
house.  He  had  never  snow-shoed,  and  of  course  it  would 
be  impossible  for  him  to  travel  four  or  five  miles  over  the 
thin  crust  any  other  way.  But  Bob  came  to  the  rescue. 

"  Why  not  pack  the  doctor  on  the  toboggan  and  drag 
him  there?"  he  said. 

"There's  no  more  room  on  the  toboggans,"  said  Tad. 
"They're  almost  too  heavy  now." 

"Then  we  must  make  another,"  said  Bob.  It  took 
some  minutes  to  determine  how  this  should  be  done,  but 
finally,  at  Tad's  suggestion,  two  smooth  boards  were 
nailed  together,  and  a  snow-shovel  was  fastened  at  the 
forward  end,  so  as  to  make  the  curve.  A  soap-box  was 
nailed  on  as  a  seat  for  the  doctor,  ropes  were  attached, 
and  two  hours  after  the  messenger's  arrival  the  Red 
Devil  relief  expedition  was  starting  over  the  drifted  fields. 

They  had  a  hard  time  at  first,  until  they  got  out  into 
the  open  country,  where  the  snow  had  not  drifted  so 
heavily,  because  there  was  nothing  much  for  it  to  drift  up 
against.  The  boys  took  turns  at  pulling  the  toboggans 
for  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  at  a  time,  helping  one  an- 
other up  hills  and  over  rough  places.  They  did  not  try 
to  follow  the  roads,  but  made  a  cut  across  the  country, 
taking  their  directions  from  the  doctor,  who  had  a  small 
compass  on  his  watch  chain,  and  acted  as  a  sort  of  navi- 
gating officer  for  the  expedition.  But  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  the  doctor  had  none  of  the  hard  physical  work  of 
dragging  to  perform,  he  probably  had  the  worst  time  of 
any  of  the  rescuers.  More  than  once  he  was  upset  into 


IT   TOOK    JUST   THREE-QUARTERS    OF    AN    HOUR    TO    REPAIR    DAMAGES    AND    PACIFY    THE    DOCTOR. 


snow-drifts,  where  the  crust  was  too  thiii  to  support  the 
toboggan,  and  then  it  took  the  combined  efforts  of  half  a 
dozen  of  the  boys  to  get  him  out. 

After  an  hour's  travel  the  unfortunate  physician  looked 
more  like  Santa  Glaus  than  anything  else.  His  hands 
and  feet  were  numb,  and  two  miniature  streams  of  cold 
water  trickled  down  his  back  from  the  melting  snow  that 
kept  getting  into  his  neck  and  ears.  But  otherwise  the 
expedition  got  along  pretty  well,  until  it  came  to  the  top 
of  the  hill  that  slopes  down  for  fully  half  a  mile,  and 
ends  at  the  swamp  which  had  to  be  crossed.  Tad  sug- 
gested that  it  would  be  much  easier  and  quicker  to  coast 
down  the  hill  on  the  toboggans  than  to  go  down  any  oth- 
er way,  and  one  of  the  other  boys  immediately  proposed 
that  the  three  toboggans  have  a  race.  The  doctor  ob- 
jected vigorously  to  this,  but  the  boys  overruled  his  ob- 
jections, and  before  lie  knew  what  had  happened  he  was 
whizzing  down  the  hill  with  a  couple  of  Red  Devils  ou 
the  back  of  his  toboggan,  and  a  toboggan-load  of  other 
Red  Devils  on  either  side  of  him,  and  with  more  Red 
Devils  who  had  not  been  able  to  find  room  on  the  sleds 
charging  down  the  hills  behind  him,  howling  like  sav- 
ages. 

Now  an  improvised  toboggan  is  not  the  best  thing  in 
the  world  to  race  on.  It  is  not  fitted  for  the  strain.  And 
the  doctor's  toboggan,  as  we  know,  was  a  very  hastily 
improvised  affair.  Consequently,  when  it  ran  afoul  of 
a  concealed  stump  half-way  down  the  hill,  the  boards 
and  the  snow-shovel  parted  company  with  a  crack  and  a 
shock  that  sent  the  doctor  and  his  companion  Devils  roll- 
ing head  over  heels  down  the  icy  incline  into  the  swamp, 
where  the  doctor  landed  in  an  icy  pool.  It  took  them  just 
three-quarters  of  an  hour  to  repair  damages  and  to  pacify 
the  doctor,  who  was  so  much  irritated  that  he  wanted  to 


walk  the  rest  of  the  way;  but  at  the  end  of  that  time 
they  got  started  again,  and  in  half  an  hour  they  had 
fought  their  way  through  the  thick  bushes  and  had 
crossed  the  swamp.  When  they  came  to  the  far  edge 
of  it  and  broke  out  of  the  undergrowth,  they  caught 
sight  of  the  train  almost  completely  buried  in  the  snow. 

At  the  anniversary  dinner,  which  occurred  about  a 
week  later,  Tad's  eldest  brother  made  a  speech,  in  which 
he  told  of  the  adventures  of  the  party  in  the  special  car. 
He  told  of  how  melancholy  and  depressed  every  one  was 
on  the  train. 

"  I  sat  looking  out  of  the  window  of  the  car,"  he  con- 
tinued, "wondering  if  all  that  snow  would  ever  melt, 
and  praying  that  some  sort  of  assistance  might  come  to 
us.  My  eyes  rested  on  the  distant  swamp,  when  sudden- 
ly I  saw  what  looked  to  me  like  a  band  of  Indians  mov- 
ing about  in  the  bushes  in  all  their  feathers  and  war- 
paint. I  did  not  believe  it  possible  that  there  could  be 
any  savages  in  New  Hampshire,  but  I  could  not  discredit 
my  eyes  when  the  figures  came  in  full  view  and  set  up 
a  wild  war-whoop.  I  felt  convinced  we  were  about  to 
be  scalped,  for  the  Indians  grabbed  their  sleds  and  made 
for  the  train  as  if  they  were  thirsting  for  our  chilly  blood. 
It  was  not  until  the  baud  was  almost  upon  us  that  we 
recognized  the  boys,  and  I  shall  remember  that  sight  and 
the  feelings  I  had  as  long  as  I  live.  Heaven  bless  the 
Red  Devils!  They  came  over  the  snow  like  a  hurricane, 
and  their  impetus  was  so  great  that  they  could  hardly 
stop  their  toboggans.  We  picked  the  doctor  up  from 
under  the  baggage-car,  and  took  him  in  and  thawed  him 
out.  And  I  don't  blame  him  for  refusing  to  go  back 
with  the  Red  Devils." 

And  all  this  happened  just  exactly  a  year  ago. 


THE     '"SCUTNEY     MAIL.' 


THE    STORY    OF    A    YOUNG    PEOPLE'S    NEWSPAPER    VENTURE. 


BY    SOPHIE    SWETT. 


JJavt  £•£. 


'  T  THINK  we'd  better  propitiate  "em,"  Macurdy  said, 

JL  shaking  his  head  sagely,  when  Tom  told  him  of  Lu- 
ella's  exactions,  and  called  upon  him  to  think  of  some 
way  by  which  the  paper  could  be  made  correct  in  gram- 
mar, and  yet  dispense  with  the  services  of  girls. 

"You  can't  leave  girls  out  of  your  calc'lations,"  he 
continued,  seriously.  'l  They  kind  of  hang  together,  and 
if  you  get  them  all  down  on  the  paper,  why,  you  might 
as  well  not  have  any  paper — that's  all." 

"They'll  want  to  fill  it  full  of  compositions;  the  kind 
they  tie  up  with  blue  ribbons;  all  about  flowers  and  little 
brooks, "said  Tom,  dejectedly. 

"It  ought  to  be  easy  to  manage  girls;  we'll  manage 
'em,''  said  Macurdy. 

But  Tom  shook  his  head  gloomily.  "You  haven't  got 
sisters,"  he  said. 

It  was  finally  arranged  that  Luella  should  be  al- 
lowed to  call  herself  the  "  literary  editor,"  in  very  small 
type,  and  that  everybody,  "girls  'n'  all,"  as  Macurdy  said, 
should  be  at  liberty  to  send  in  contributions,  but  that 
nothing  should  appear  in  the  paper  without  the  consent 
of  "the  whole  editorial  staff."  (That  phrase  was  also 
Macurdy 's.) 


"She  can't  complain  of  that;  they  can't  any  of  'em 
complain,"  said  Macurdy,  V-ith  a  modest  sense  of  being 
equal  to  the  occasion. 

Tom  didn't  feel  quite  so  sure  of  Luella's  "sweet  rea- 
sonableness," but  the  readiness  with  which  Macurdy  took 
hold  of  difficulties  was  cheering. 

The  question  of  the  paper's  name  came  up  next.  Tom 
wished  to  call  it  The  War  Wlioop,  or  The  Boomerang, 
or  at  least  The  'Scutney  Boom;  he  thought  it  should  be 
a  name  that  would  make  people  understand  that  they 
wrere  "up  and  coming."  But  Macurdy  thought  those 
names  sounded  more  like  a  paper  that  was  going  to  stir 
up  things  just  for  a  while  than  one  that  was  meant  to 
last.  To  his  mind  an  ordinary  "  grown  up  name"  was 
much  better;  he  liked  The  Journal,  or  The  News,  or  Tlie 
Sun,  01 — 

"Or  The  Mail,"  suggested  Tom. 

And  Macurdy  thought  that  name  the  best  of  all,  be- 
cause it  sounded  as  if  news  had  come  from  the  world 
outside  as  well  as  from  'Scutney. 

Tom  gave  up  his  striking  names  the  more  readily  be- 
cause he  had  thought  of  the  best  one  of  the  "  grown-up  " 
kind;  it  didn't  look  well  for  Macurdy  Green  to  think  of 
everything  when  he  was  the  proprietor  of  the  paper. 


'GIRLS    AGAIN!"    EJACULATED  TOM.  UNDER    HIS   BREATH. 


250 


HARPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME 


"I'm  going  to  send  to  Leuton  for  the  paper  and  ink, 
Monday,"  lie  said.  "Father  says  I  may.  And  he  says 
we  may  "have  our  old  tool-house  for  a  publishing-house 
and  office;  there  are  two  rooms,  you  know.  I  wish  it 
was  nearer  the  street." 

Macurdy  shook  his  head  decidedly.  "Plenty  of  peo- 
ple will  come.  Editors  don't  like  to  be  bothered." 

"  We'll  have  the  old  building  painted — •"  began  Tom. 

"Next  spring,"  interrupted  Macurdy.  "We  must  be 
sure  that  the  paper  is  going  to  pay  first." 

"You're  the  greatest  fellow  to  think  about  making 
things  pay,"  said  Tom.  "But  I  should  like  to  know 
how  it  pays  you  to  spend  so  much  time  on  that  Jim  !"  he 
went  on,  in  an  aggrieved  tone.  "He  was  on  the  wagon 
with  you  and  Mr.  Bigsby  coming  home  from  the  store, 
and  that  was  why  you  couldn't  stop,  I  s'pose.  You  had 
got  to  help  him  take  care  of  that  bundle  he  was  carrying." 

Tom  had  a  well-developed  bump  of  curiosity,  and  he 
thought  he  ought  to  know  what  there  was  in  that  bundle 
which  Macurdy  had  been  helping  Jim  to  hold  on  to  as  the 
wagon  jolted  along.  When  he  reached  Farmer  Bigsby's 
that  afternoon,  he  had  found  Jim  just  locking  the  door  of 
the  granary  and  thrusting  the  key  hastily  into  his  pocket ; 
that  queer-looking  bundle  was  probably  locked  up  there. 
Tom  wouldn't  ask  what  it  was;  he  had  asked  what  there 
was  in  that  granary  too  many  times  already,  only  to  re- 
ceive an  evasive  reply.  But  he  sternly  resolved  that  lie 
would  very  soon  make  Macurdy  understand  that  between 
a  publisher  and  his  editor  there  must  be  no  secrets. 

Macurdy's  freckled  face  grew  red  up  to  the  rim  of 
Farmer  Bigsby's  old  hat.  "Jim  hasn't  got  anybody  but 
me," said  lie.  "  He  and  I  are  just  alike;  we  haven't  got 
anybody  but  each  other.  And  he  knows  a  lot  more  than 
folks  think  he  does,  if  his  mind  does  trouble  him  some. 
He'll  help  us  about  the  paper." 

"I  don't  think  that  would  do,"  said  Tom,  in  quick 
alarm.  Who  knew  but  Jim  would  expect  to  have  his 
name  on  the  paper  as  some  kind  of  editor?  "He  isn't 
what  you  could  call  very  smart,  anyway."  Tom  tried  to 
speak  delicately,  for  Macurdy  was  sensitive. 

"If  he  should  write  what  he  knows  about  animals,  I 
guess  you'd  want  it  in  the  paper,"  said  Macurdy,  stoutly. 
"There's  nobody  round  here  that  knows  so  much." 

"That's  because  he  belonged  to  a  circus  company,  I 
s'pose,"  said  Tom. 

But  Macurdy  shook  his  head.  "I  don't  think  he  had 
belonged  to  it  for  long,"  he  said.  "  He  doesn't  seem  to 
remember  much  about  it.  And  the  circus  people  said  he 
had  run  away  from  home  and  joined  them  only  a  little 
while  before  they  got  here." 

"Some  people  think  he's  rich,  and  that  he's  hiding 
money  'round,"  hazarded  Tom,  glancing  at  Macurdy. 

"That's  a  likely  story,  isn't  it?"  said  Macurdy,  scorn- 
fullv.  "I  wish  I  knew  where  he  came  from, "he  went 
on,  anxiously.  "  I'm  afraid  they'll  send  him  to  the  State 
poor  farm  in  the  spring.  It  doesn't  belong  to  'Scutney 
to  take  care  of  him,  and  the  Selectmen  are  talking  about 
it.  He  doesn't  have  a  very  bad  time  here,  if  he  does  have 
to  make  up  beds  and  wash  dishes.  I  used  to  wash  dishes 
for  him  ;  that's  how  I  learned  to  do  it  so  well  that  Mrs. 
Bigsby  makes  me  do  it  all  the  time."  And  Macurdy 
heaved  a  long  sigh,  from  a  consciousness  that  good  deeds 
do  not  always  bring  the  reward  that  one  might  expect. 

"I  wish  Jim  could  find  his  own  folks,  or  that  you 
would  stop  trying  to  be  own  folks  to  him, "grumbled  Tom. 
"  I'm  afraid  it's  going  to  be  a  hinderance  to  that  paper." 

"A  fellow  has  to  have  more  than  one  thing  on  his 
mind  in  this  world,"  said  Macurdy,  with  an  anxious  glance 
towards  the  old  granary. 

Tom  made  up  his  mind  that  it  was  time  for  a  serious 
remonstrance  with  Macurdy,  but  just  as  he  had  braced 
himself  against  the  pigpen  and  prepared  to  begin,  girls' 
voices  were  heard  eagerly  calling  "Tom  Pickering,"  and 


Nelly  Lamphier  and  Bobsy  Briggs  came  running  into  the- 
barn. 

Tom  felt  a  sudden  regret  that  he  had  allowed  himself 
to  talk  about  the  prospective  paper  to  Halsey  Briggs  and 
Dick  Lamphier  on  his  u;:y  over  to  see  Macurdy.  Some 
brothers  had  to  run  to  their  sisters  with  everything,  he 
thought,  indignantly. 

"We  want  to  put  advertisements  into  the  paper  right 
away  the  very  first  number!"  announced  Bobsy. 

"If  there's  a  good  circulation,"  interposed  Nelly  Lam- 
phier. "Uncle  Albert  said  we  mustn't  promise  any  ads 
— that's  what  he  called  them,  ads — unless  you  can  guaran- 
tee a  good  circulation." 

"  Girls  again  !"  ejaculated  Tom,  under  his  breath. 

"  I  want  to  advertise  my  three  Angora  kittens,"  pursued 
Bobsy,  who  had  a  less  prudent  mind  than  her  friend. 
"They  must  give  five  dollars  apiece  and  love  them,  and 
six  for  the  white  one;  and  shall  I  pay  nails,  or  pins,  or 
cookies?  I  can  pay  a  large  doughilut  boy — or  even  twins." 

Bobsy  evidently  felt  a  great  sense  of  importance  from 
her  ability  to  make  so  munificent  an  offer,  and  she  was. 
much  astonished  at  Macurdy's  laugh  and  Tom's  scowl. 

"Nails  and  doughnut  boys,  indeed!"  cried  Tom,  scorn- 
fully— as  scornfully  as  if  he  had  not  himself  done  much 
business  with  such  commodities  as  legal  tender.  "  If  you 
want  to  advertise  your  kittens,  you  can  pay  so  much  a 
line — so  much  money.  I  don't  know  whether  we  want 
to  take  such  advertisements — 

"Oil,  yes,  yes,"  hastily  interposed  Macurdy,  who  had 
an  eye  to  business.  "Twenty-five  cents  for  one  inser- 
tion, thirty-seven  cents  for  two;  you'd  better  take  two. 
If  you  only  sold  one  kitten  it  would  pay  you  to  adver- 
tise. You  can't  expect,  you  know,  to  sell  your  kittens 
for  five  dollars  apiece,  and  pay  us  only  doughnut  boys 
for  advertising  them." 

Bobsy  pulled  her  worsted  Tarn  o'  Shanter  down  over 
her  stubby  tow-colored  bangs,  as  if  it  were  a  thinking- 
cap,  and  reflected  deeply. 

"This  is  real  business,"  explained  Macurdy.  "We 
expect  to  get  up  a  paper  that  will  grow  up  with  us." 

Bobsy  and  her  friend  looked  at  each  other. 

"We  didn't  think  of  its  being  a  truly  paper.  You're 
only  boys,"  said  Nelly  Lamphier. 

"Have  you  got  truly  kittens  to  advertise?"  asked  Tom, 
with  what  he  felt  to  be  great  acuteness.  "  Or  are  they 
only  those  stuffed  things  that  the  girls  make?" 

"They're  real  live  kittens!"  said  Bobsy,  indignantly. 
"  And  I  like  it  better  to  advertise  them  in  a  real  paper," 
she  added.  "  I'm  awful  sick  of  make-believes.  But  I 
can't  pay  until  the  kittens  are  sold." 

"  Maybe  you  think  we're  like  those  medical  fellows 
that  advertise  '  no  cure,  no  pay,' "  said  Tom,  angrily. 

"  We've  got  to  propitiate  'em,"  whispered  Macurdy. 

"  I  can  pay  when  I  open  my  bank.  It  will  open  when 
there  are  ten  dollars  in  it,  and  there  are  fifteen  cents 
now,"  said  Bobsy,  hopefully. 

"  I  think  we  can  make  an  arrangement  that  will  be 
satisfactory,  Miss  Briggs,"  said  Macurdy,  politelj'.  "And 
we  shall  be  open  for  business  in  our — our  counting-room 
and  editorial  sanctum,  on  Dr.  Pickering's  grounds,  by 
the  last  of  next  week." 

Bobsy  was  so  greatly  abashed  by  this  ceremonious 
speech  that  she  slowly  drew  off  her  mitten  and  thrust  her 
thumb  into  her  mouth,  while  Nelly  Lamphier  stared  at 
Macurdy  for  a  moment,  and  then  drew  her  friend  away. 

"  D'  you  see  me  manage  'em?"  demanded  Macurdy. 

"  They're  only  little  ones;  wait  until  you  have  to  man- 
age the  big  ones,"  said  Tom,  with  a  shake  of  the  head. 

"  I  don't  expect  that  paper  is  going  to  be  published 
without  any  difficulties,  "said  Macurdy,  seriously.  "That 
isn't  the  way  of  this  world.  But  I  like  to  pounce  right 
on  to  difficulties  and  get  the  upper  hand  of  'em.  It 
makes  a  fellow  feel  as  if  he  was  somebody." 


FEBRUARY  5,  1S95. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


251 


"You  can't  pounce  on  to  girls  and — and  crazy  folks." 

Tom  had  caught  sight  of  Jim  coming  towards  the 
barn,  and  felt  vaguely  irritated.  He  said  to  himself  that 
lie  wished  he  ever  could  come  to  see  Macurdy  without 
having  to  see  that  Jim. 

Jim  stopped  at  the  granary  door  and  tried  it,  with  an 
anxious  look;  then  he  went  to  the  window  and  tried  to 
peer  in  at  the  sides  of  the  paper  curtain  which  had  been 
roughly  nailed  up. 

"  It's  all  right,  Jim, "called  Macurdy.  And  Jim  turned 
and  carne  towards  the  boys  with  an  expression  of  childish 
satisfaction  replacing  the  anxiety  on  his  face. 

"All  right,"  he  repeated,  "  snug  and  warm."  And 
then  he  said  something  in  a  low  tone  to  Macurdy.  It 
was  about  sleeping  in  the  granary,  or  having  a  burglar- 
alarm,  or  so  Tom  thought,  from  the  few  words  that  came 
to  his  ears.  He  didn't  mean  to  listen,  but  he  could  hardly 
help  pricking  up  his  ears  a  little  at  that.  Macurdy  ev- 
idently did  not  care  to  have  any  private  conversation  with 
Jim  in  Tom's  presence. 

"  It's  all  right,  all  right,  Jim,"  he  repeated,  reassuring- 
ly. "And  the  paper  is  all  right  too.  We're  going  to 
print  the  first  number  next  week." 

Macurdy  had  had  to  go  and  tell  Jim  all  about  the  pa- 
per already,  thought  Tom,  with  great  disgust. 

Macurdy  had  his  arm  around  the  boy,  and  Jim  was 
looking  at  him  with  wistful  eyes. 

"I'll  write  something  for  the  paper,"  he  said,  eagerly. 
"  I  can  write  now — just  so  you  can  make  it  out." 

Jim  had  evidently  once  been  able  to  read  and  write, 
but  the  fever  had  left  him  so  vacant  mentally  that  he 
had  to  begin  over  again  witli  the  little  children.  There 
were  rough  boys  in  'Scutney  who  had  gibed  and  sneered 
at  Jim  for  this,  whom  Macurdy  had  been  obliged  to  thrash. 

"Local  items  and  general  news  are  what  we  want. 
And  I  suppose  we  shall  copy  a  good  deal  from  other  pa- 
pers," said  Tom,  with  a  view  to  discouraging  Jim. 

"  I'll  write  you  all  about  the  Queen  of  Sheba,"  said  Jim, 
eagerly.  "  All  I  can  remember,"  he  added,  with  a  touch 
of  patient  dejection.  "  I  had  forgotten  all  about  her  un- 
til that  day  that  I  went  to  Hebron  with  you  and  Mr. 
Bigsby,  'Curdy.  She  wasn't  in  the  circus — do  you  think 
she  was, 'Curdy?  Where  do  you  suppose  I  was  when  I 
had  her?"  There  was  a  pathetic  wistfulness  in  his  voice, 
and  he  laid  his  hand  pleadingly  on  Macurdy's  shoulder. 

"Never  mind,  old  fellow,  you'll  remember  all  about  it 
when  you  get  strong,"  said  Macurdy,  cheerfully;  but 
rather  gruffly,  because  of  a  lump  in  his  throat. 

"We  can't  have  Bible  stories,  you  know;  it  isn't  going 
to  be  a  Sunday-school  paper."  said  Tom,  and  he  said  it  the 
more  roughly  because  he  was  afraid  his  voice  was  a  little 
husky;  he  wasn't  going  to  be  a  softy  about  that  fellow. 

"Write  it,  Jim, "said  Macurdy.  "Of  course  we  can't 
put  everything  into  the  paper,  but  we'll  see,  we'll  see!" 

It  struck  Tom  that  Macurdy  was  taking  a  great  deal 
upon  himself  about  that  paper.  He'd  better  remember 
whose  money  was  going  to  pay  for  it! 

Jim  went  off,  and  Tom  was  preparing  to  speak  his  mind 
to  Macurdy  about  his  encouraging  Jim  to  write  for  the 
paper,  when  Teddy  Norcross  and  Orin  Seaver  came  run- 
ning up  to  the  barn  door. 

"  I  say,  Tom,  who  is  going  to  report  the  ball  games  for 
your  paper?  There's  the  Hebrons  and  the  'Scutneys  next 
Saturday,  and — 

"Jolly !     I  never  thought  of  that !"  exclaimed  Tom. 

But  Macurdy  interrupted  him.  "We  shall  do  those 
things  ourselves — with  such  help  as  our  friends  want  to 
give  us,"  he  explained. 

"  As  I  want  a  new  bat,  I  thought  maybe  I  could  earn  it 
that  way,"  said  Teddy  Norcross,  in  a  disappointed  tone. 
"I'm  just  the  fellow.  And  tennis  games  in  summer — 

"You  see,  a 'Scutney  paper  can't  afford  to  hire  reporters 
in  the  beginning,  anyway,"  said  Macurdy.  "  But  .we're 


sure  that  every — every  public-spirited  citizen  will  want 
to  help  us  all  he  can." 

"You  don't  want  any  assistant  editors,  or  anything, 
that  would  work  cheap,  do  you?"  persisted  Teddy,  who- 
had  the  reputation  of  being  businesslike  and  thrifty. 

"Not  yet,  anyway;  if  we  should  want  any — "mur- 
mured Macurdy,  politely. 

"We  heard  that  girls  were  going  to  b'long,"  said  Orin 
Seaver,  with  a  somewhat  contemptuous  accent. 

"It's  the  fashion.  We  want  to  keep  up  with  the  times ^ 
you  read  about  women  in  journalism,  you  know.  And 
we  think  they'll  come  in  handy  about — about  the  fashions 
and — and  crochet-work — a  girls'  corner,  or  something  like 
that,"  said  Macurdy,  delicately  ignoring  the  sensitive 
points  of  grammar  and  spelling. 

"You  talk  as  if 'twas  a  grown-up  paper,"  said  Orin 
Seaver,  a  little  sulkily. 

"  We  mean  it  to  be  a  growing-up  paper,"  said  Macurdy. 
"  We  expect  it  to  grow  up — 

"We  mean  business,  and  we're  going  to  run  it  our- 
selves,"said  Tom,  who  felt  that  Macurdy,  with  his  fine 
phrases,  had  kept  him  in  the  background  all  too  long. 

There  was  more  than  one  boy  in  'Scutney  that  day  who 
felt  it  to  be  an  unkind  fate  that  Tom  Pickering  owned 
that  printing-press,  and  was  therefore  Macurdy's  partner, 
instead  of  himself. 

"I  tell  you  what,  Macurdy, "said  Tom,  as  they  sepa- 
rated, planting  himself  firmly  on  the  ground,  and  holding 
his  head  very  high,  "  I'll  get  a  lot  more  t3Tpe.  That  paper 
is  going  to  be  a  Big  Tiling!" 

Luella,  for  her  part,  did  not  keep  on  counting  one-two- 
three-four  after  Tom  left  her.  Although  she  had  treated 
Tom's  project  with  so  little  respect,  no  sooner  had  he 
gone  than  she  whisked  up  stairs  to  tell  Aunt  Esther  all 
about  it  (Aunt  Esther  tried  to  take  their  dead  mother's 
place  to  Tom  and  Luella,  and  talked  much  to  Luella  about 
the  influence  she  ought  to  have  over  Tom).  Then  Luella 
ran,  all  out  of  breath,  over  to  Polly  Eawson's  to  see  what 
Polly  would  think  of  the  paper.  "Aunt  Esther  says  it 
will  be  a  great  opportunity  for  us  to  soften  and  refine 
and  elevate  those  boys,"  she  said,  after  she  had  unfolded 
the  great  scheme  to  the  attentive  Polly. 

"I'm  sure  they  need  it."  said  Polly,  plaintively.  "I 
wish  somebody  would  do  that  to  our  Bing.  I  think  we'd 
better  help  them.  Luella.  And  I'll  let  them  print  'The 
Enchanted  Pumpkin  Seed.'" 

It  was  after  nine  o'clock  that  night — and  nine  o'clock 
was  'Scutney  bedtime — when  Tom,  on  his  way  to  bed, 
answered  a  knock  at  the  back  door  and  found  Macurdy. 

"I  couldn't  come  before,"  he  said,  breathlessly.  "  I've 
had  to  chop  mince- meat  and  knit  a  stent;  she  don't 
know  I've  come  now.  I  want  you  to  let  Jim  put  his 
piece  into  the  paper.  It  will  do  him  such  a  lot  of  good 
in  his  mind.  And  so  I  wanted  you  to  know  that  the 
Queen  of  Sheba  is  only  a  turkey — a  big  white  turkey." 

"  I  didn't  know  we  were  going  to  print  a  paper  to  help 
people's  minds,"  said  Tom,  sulkily.  "And  I  don't  like 
such  a  lot  of  mysteries!"  Tom  glanced  meaningly  across 
the  field  towards  the  old  granary,  which  stood  out  white 
in  the  moonlight,  although  it  was  weather-worn  and  gray. 

"It's  awful  cold,  isn't  it?"  said  Macurdy,  his  gaze  follow- 
ing Tom's  anxiously.  "And  if  Jim  wants  to  put  any- 
thing into  the  paper  about  Sarah  Lond  I  think  we'd  better 
let  him.  It  will  be  awful  interesting." 

"If  she's  anybody  that  'Scutney  folks  know,"  said 
Tom — for  he  didn't  want  to  quarrel  with  Macurdy. 

"I  tell  you  we're  going  to  do  great  things  with  that 
paper,  Tom, "said  Macurdy,  evasively,  as  he  pulled  his. 
woollen  comforter  up  over  his  ears  and  trudged  away. 

"I  s'pose  Sarah  Lond  is  somebody  that  they've  got 
shut  up  in  the  old  granary,"  said  Tom  to  himself,  with 
what  he  thought  was  sarcasm,  as  he  went  off  to  bed. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


252 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


LIFE  IN  A   PARIS  SCHOOL. 

fllHE  American  school-boy  does  not  know  how  well  off 
_l_  he  is  until  he  tries  a  few  terms  of  school  life  in  some 
foreign  country.  Then  he  soon  realizes  that  the  home 
institutions  are  really  not  run  on  the  plan  of  "all  work 
and  no  play,"  as  he  used  to  think  they  were,  and  that 
the  rules  and  regulations  he  once  considered  onerous  are, 
on  the  other  hand,  most  delightfully  simple  and  unob- 
jectionable. The  writer  attended  school  in  Paris  some 
years  ago,  and  it  was  there  that  he  came  to  these  conclu- 
sions. He,  as  a  foreigner,  was  not  forced  to  live  the 
same  kind  of  life  that  the  French  boys  accepted  as  a  per- 
fectly natural  thing,  but  he  had  every  opportunity  to 
see  just  what  this  life  was,  and  as  a  consequence  he  be- 
came a  more  patriotic  American. 

The  large  Paris  schools  are  called  lyci-es,  or  lyceums, 
but  the  pupils  refer  to  them  as  "  boxes";  and  this  is  not 
at  all  surprising  when  you  consider  that  the  boys  are 
kept  shut  up  in  the  schools  just  about  as  if  they  were  in 
a  box  or  a  prison.  They  are  also  required  to  wear  a  dis- 
tinctive uniform,  which  is  usually  of  dark  blue  cloth, 
witli  gold  buttons  and  gold  embroidery,  and  a  peak  cap 
bearing  the  monogram  of  the  school  in  front.  They 
sleep  in  dormitories,  fifteen  or  twenty  in  one  room,  and 
get  their  exercise  and  recreation  in  a  gravelled  court-yard 
in  the  rear  of  the  school  buildings.  This  yard  is  usually 
not  very  large,  and  the  only  games  the  scholars  play  are 
marbles,  tops,  and  leap-frog  or  tag.  There  is  no  foot- 
ball or  baseball  or  tennis,  and  even  the  childish  games 
they  do  indulge  in  are  under  the  supervision  of  a  tutor. 
On  Thursdays  the  boys  are  taken  out  for  a  promenade 
in  charge  of  a  tutor,  and  they  are  marched  around  the 
streets  two  by  two  for  an  hour  or  more.  Those  boys 
whose  parents  live  in  Paris,  and  those  who  have  friends 
in  the  city,  are  allowed  once  in  two  weeks  to  visit  their 
friends  and  relatives  on  Sunday.  Of  course  almost 
every  boy  can  rake  up  some  sort  of  a  "  relative,"  for  the 
sake  of  getting  out  of  the  "box"  occasionally,  and 
those  with  imaginary  relatives  spend  their  time  on  the 
boulevards  eating  cakes  and  seeing  the  sights.  This 

d||  :..-•, 


--*5  , 


M-X^Pt.^fctv  "Vl"  ,«,v 

r$^&ty^*A&^$%^™ 
W 

IrfAWjW-*- 


Besides  the  games  already  mentioned,  the  older  boys  in 
the  Paris  schools  may  take  fencing  lessons  and  riding 
lessons.  All  those  who  can  afford  to  invariably  jump  at 


ON    THURSDAY    AFTERNOONS. 


they  would  probably  not  do  if  they  enjoyed  the  liberty 
accorded  to  American  boys,  instead  of  being  confined  for 
weeks  in  a  walled  yard. 


LEARNING    LATIN    VERSES    AT    RECESS    AS    A    PUNISHMENT. 


the  chance  of  taking  a  riding  lesson,  for  this  gives  them 
an  additional  opportunity  to  get  out  of  the  "  box."  But 
these  French  boys  on  horseback  are  sorry-looking  sights, 
and  afford  constant  subjects  for  caricatures  in  the  Paris 
comic  papers. 

The  method  of  punishment  is  to  make  a  scholar 
write  several  thousand  lines  as  a  task,  or  to  deprive  him 
of  his  Thursday  walk,  or  to  deprive  him  of  one  or  more 
of  his  Sundays  out.  A  minor  punishment  is  inflicted  by 
making  the  boys  stand  up  against  the  wall  of  the  play- 
ground and  learn  Latin  verses  by  heart  during  recess. 

The  working -hours  are  somewhat  longer  than  in 
America,  because  certain  fixed  hours  are  set  aside  for  pre- 
paration and  study.  For  instance,  there  is  a  recitation 
at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,  then  a  study  hour,  and 
then  fifteen  minutes'  recess,  followed  by  another  study 
hour.  In  the  afternoon  there  are  usually  two  recitation 
hours  and  one  study  hour.  All  studying  is  done  in  the 
class-rooms  under  the  supervision  of  a  tutor,  and  no 
talking  is  allowed.  As  a  result  of  this  enforced  silence 
the  boys  become  adepts  in  a  sort  of  deaf-and-dumb  sign- 
language,  and  carry  on  lengthy  conversations  which  they 
would  never  think  of  wasting  time  on  if  they  might  say 
what  they  had  to  say  out  loud.  At  four  o'clock  every 
afternoon  the  boys  line  up  in  the  play-ground,  and  ser- 
vants pass  along  in  front  of  them  with  baskets  of  bread- 
and-butter,  each  boy  helping  himself  to  a  slice  as  his 
turn  comes. 

At  the  schools  where  there  are  both  boarders  and  day 
scholars,  as  is  the  case  at  a  number  of  the  Paris  lycees, 
the  boarders  are  forbidden  to  speak  to  the  clay  boys,  and 
usually  have  a  different  play-ground.  But  they  do  speak 
to  one  another,  nevertheless,  and  the  day  scholars  act  as 
messengers  to  the  outside  world,  and  smuggle  all  sorts  of 
forbidden  delicacies  and  story  papers  into  the  school  for 
the  boarders. 

We  have  no  such  system  as  this  in  America.  The 
American  boy  is  looked  upon  by  his  teachers  as  a  young 
citizen  with  self-respect  and  a  gentlemanly  sense  of 
honor.  He  is  not  forbidden  to  do  things  before  he  ever 
thinks  of  doing  them,  and  for  that  very  reason  he  re- 
mains a  better -behaved  boy  than  the  lad  of  any  other 
country.  So  we  may  all  well  be  thankful  that  we  are 
Americans,  and  that  we  can  go  to  school  in  a  country 
where  every  boy  gets  a  fair  opportunity  to  make  himself 
a  good  man. 


FEBRUARY  5,  1895 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


253 


TURN     C3) 


(2) 


(1) 


(3) 


HAND-IN-HAND  SKATING. 

BY  W.  G.  VAN  T.  SUTPHEN. 

can  be  no  lasting  interest  in  any  form  of  sport 
_L  unless  some  definite  end  is  kept  in  view,  some  prob- 
lem finally  woi-ked  out,  some  purpose  accomplished. 
There  is  no  amusement  in  shooting  arrows  aimlessly  into 
the  air  or  in  carelessly  knocking  tennis-balls  over  a  net. 
The  archer  is  intent  on  seeing  how  often  he  can  hit  the 
gold;  the  tennis-player  tries  to  put  that  ball  over  in  such 
a  u  ay  that  his  opponent  cannot  return  it.  The  score, 
the  game  —  something  is  the  object. 

Now  skating  is  one  of  the  oldest  and  most  popular  of 
winter  amusements,  and  yet  how  many  of  the  thousands 
of  boys  and  girls  who  anxiously  await  the  hoisting  of 
the  "red  ball"  know  anything  more  than  the  merest  be- 
ginnings of  the  art?  The  vast  majority  of  skaters  are  per- 
fectly satisfied  with  being  able  to  progress  in  an  aimless, 
desultory  fashion  up  and  down  the  ice  and  keep  out  of 
the  way  of  the  hockey-players.  And  I  may  add  that 
hockey,  good  game  that  it  is,  is  not  skating,  in  the  real 
sense  of  the  word,  and  it  can  never 
help  you  to  anything  better  than  the 
ability  to  keep  your  feet  (and  your 
temper)  in  a  rough-and-tumble  scrim- 
'  mage  after  a  little  block  of  wood  or  a 
rubber  "puck."  And  yet  there  is 
something  better. 

Aside  from  speed  -skating,  which 
few  can  hope  to  excel  in,  there  is  fig- 
ure-skating, as  it  is  popularly  called. 
It  is  generally  supposed  to  be  very 
difficult,  and  in  some  respects  it  is 
so.  To  attempt  it  without  the  assist- 
ance of  a  teacher  requires  unlimited 
pluck  and  perseverance.  There  are  a 
number  of  books  on  the  subject,  il- 
lustrated with  elaborate  diagrams, 
and  everything  made  easy,  in  theory. 
But  the  actual  thing  in  practice  — 
that  is  very  different.  It  is  like 
"French  at  Home,  in  Six  Easy  Les- 
sons," or,  "The  Violin  Without  a 
Master."  The  hard  work  does  pay 
in  the  end,  if  persevered  in,  but  the 

beginner  generally  gets  disgusted  after  the  first  few  fail- 
ures and  goes  back  to  tag  and  hockey.  Perhaps  that 
has  been  your  experience  —  you  have  tried,  and  found  it 
of  no  use.  And  yet  you  do  envy  the  expert  skater,  who 
glides  past  you  on  the  "back  cross-roll"  so  easily  and 
gracefully  that  you  are  certain  that  it  must  feel  like  fly- 
ing. Well,  that  is  exactly  what 
it  does  feel  like,  and  I  am  going' 
to  suggest  a  plan  by  which  you 
may  secure  that  delightful  sen- 
sation for  yourself  at  the  expense 
of  comparatively  little  time  and 
trouble.  After  you  have  once 
known  the  fascination  that  there 
is  in  true  figure-skating,  you  will 
Jf  probably  feel  encouraged  to  take 
up  again  the  explanations  and 
diagrams  of  the  discarded  text- 
books. 

Hand  -  in  -  hand     figures     are 
among  the  prettiest  things   that 
can  be  done  upon  the    ice  from 
the  spectators'  point  of  view,  and 
they  are  easiest  for  the  perform- 
ers.     You  have  the  assistance  of 
your  partner  at  every  critical  mo- 
°™'    ment,   and    movements   such   as 
Fin.  i.  the  forward-rocking  turn,  which 


CMPLOYEO 


FlG-  3- 


THE  CROSS  ey  L  F 


/ 


require    weeks  of    practice    to  do 
alone,  can   be  executed   hand  in 
hand  with  comparative  ease.     In    . 
individual  figure-skating  you  are  jj ' 
obliged  to  advance  very  slowly  in 
order  to  preserve  correct  form  ;   in 
hand-in-hand  skating  the  "form" 
is    of   less   importance,  or,  rather, 
it  seems  to  come  of  itself. 

Let  us  take  the  Mercury,  or  3- 
scud,  as  the  English  call  it.  If  you 
will  anal5Tze  the  movements  in 
the  Forward  Mercury  (Fig.  3)  you 
will  see  that  there  is  first  a  glide 
on  the  left-foot  outside  edge  back- 
ward (L.O.B. ),  then  a  glide  for- 
ward on  the  right-foot  outside  edge 
(R.O.F.),and  finally  a  cross-roll 
on  the  left-foot  outside  edge  for- 
ward (L.O.F.),  which  finishes  in 
a  little  backward  turn  on  the  same 
foot,  leaving  you  in  position  to  re- 
peat the  movement  with  the  right 
foot  on  the  outside  edge  backward 

(R.O.B.).  Examining  in  likemannerthe  detail  of  the  Back- 
ward Mercury  (Fig.  4),  which  is  done  by  your  partner  at  the 
same  time  that  you  are  performing  the  "Forward,"  you 
will  notice  that  it  is  exactly  the  same,  except  that  there 
are  two  backward  glides  and  one  forward,  while  in  the 
"  Forward  "  there  are  tico  forward  glides  and  one  back- 
ward. 

It  is  necessary,  then,  that  both  you  and  your  partner 
should  be  able  to  skate  the  outside  edge  forward  and 
back  and  make  the  little  curl-like  turn,  and  also  that  one 
of  you  should  be  reasonably  proficient  on  the  cross-roll 
backward.  It  sounds  very  difficult,  but  remember  that  I 
am  not  asking  you  to  attempt  all  this  alone;  the  secret 
lies  in  the  fact  that  you  will  help  each  other. 

The  outside  edge  forward  is  the  first  movement  to  be 
attempted.  Try  it  with  hands  joined  and  crossed,  and 
endeavor  to  make  the  stroke  together — that  is,  in  the  same 
time.  Lean  boldly  outward,  and  make  the  curve  as  long 
as  possible.  Try  it  again,  but  this  time  hand  in  hand, 
that  is,  with  one  hand  free.  It  will  be  well  to  change 
sides  occasionally. 

Now  for  the  same  edge  in  a  backward  direction.  To 
put  the  first  question  in  the  catechism  to  a  very  practical 
use,  and  to  simplify  the  explanation,  I  will  assume  that 
you  are  M  and  that  your  partner  is  N.  Join  hands  (not 
crossed),  and  let  M  try  the  outside  backward  on  alternate 
feet,  while  N  keeps  both  feet  on  the  ice  and  simply 
squirms  along  in  a  serpentine  line,  and  helps  M  to  pre- 
serve his  balance.  M  can  then  perform 
the  same  kindly  office  for  N. 

The  only  difference  between  the  out- 
side forward  and  the  corresponding  cross 
or  Dutch  roll  (Fig.  1)  is  that  the  unem- 
ployed foot,  instead  of  being  put  down 
alongside  of  the  employed,  is  swung  en- 
tirely over  and  set  down  in  front  of  the 
foot  on  which  you  have  been  gliding, 
and  which  is  then  immediately  taken 
up.  Join  hands  (not  crossed),  and  let 
N  skate  backward,  keeping  both  feet  firm- 
ly on  the  ice.  M  will  then  follow  on  the 
outside  forward,  remembering  to  cross  BOLL  — 
the  unemployed  foot  just  at  the  end  of 
the  glide.  After  the  unemployed  foot  is 
swung"  over  and  put  down,  lift  the  other 
quickly,  and  let  it  swing  gently  out  over 
the  ice,  and  then  bring  it  in  ready  for 
the  next  cross.  You  will  soon  find  that 
you  will  not  have  to  push  off  as  you  Fiu.  4. 


(2) 


'     ' 


254 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


did  on  the  ordinary  outside  edge;  the  swing  of  the  un- 
employed leg  is  quite  sufficient  to  bring  you  around. 

Now  for  N's  part,  the  backward  cross  roll  (Fig.  2), 
•which  is  not  quite  so  easy.  As  before,  M  will  keep  both 
feet  on  the  ice,  so  as  to  give  his  partner  a  firm  support. 
Join  hands  (not  crossed),  and  let  N  take  several  backward 
steps  as  though  he  were  walking,  but  crossing  his  feet  al- 
ternately, the  one  behind  the  other,  and  turning  the  skate 
so  that  the  outer  edge  is  the  one  placed  on  the  ice.  After 
seven  or  eight  steps  press  the  blade  firmly  into  the  ice  as 
you  set  it  down  so  that  you  can  feel  it  "  bite."  .  Now  give 
the  unemployed  leg  a  swing  as  you  take  it  up;  let  it 
•come  all  the  way  around,  so  that  you  can  put  it  down  (oil 
the  outside  edge)  well  crossed  behind  the  employed  foot. 
Lean  out  as  you  do  this,  and  let  the  skate  that  is  on  the 
ice  move  freely.  Your  partner  can  help  you  immensely 
if  he  will  lift  up  on  your  hands,  and  at  the  same  time 
gently  force  you  over  in  the  proper  direction.  It  will 
seem  impossible  at  first,  but  the  knack  will  come  all  in  a 
flash,  and  you  will  realize  that  it  is  the  twist  of  your 
shoulders  and  the  swing  of  the  unemployed  leg  that  is 
doing  the  work.  It  is  very  necessary  to  get  these  for- 
ward and  back  cross  roljs  as  perfect  as  possible  before  at- 
tempting the  Mercury  proper.  Unless  you  can  do  them, 
the  pace  quickly  gets  too  fast  and  dangerous,  and  the  fig- 
ure is  spoiled. 

There  is  only  one  thing  more  before  we  begin  to  put 
our  material  together,  and  that  is  the  little  turn  on  the 
same  foot  which  is  technically  called  a  3.  This  particu- 
lar turn  is  very  easy,  and  is  the  natural  one  that  every- 
body uses.  Make  the  end  or  tail  short,  and  practise  on 
each  foot  forward  and  back. 

As  soon  as  M  can  be  sure  of  his  forward  cross-roll,  and 
N  of  the  corresponding  backward  movement,  we  can  try 
the  whole  figure.  We  will  suppose  that  M  has  learned 
the  "Forward,"  and  N  the  "Backward."  If  anything, 
the  "  Backward"  is  the  lady's  step,  as  her  partner  should 
do  the  steering.  Join  hands  (not  crossed)  and  stand  fa- 
cing each  other.  Endeavor  to  take  the  strokes  together 
in  exactly  the  same  time.  You  will  find  it  of  advantage 
to  count  one,  two,  three,  as  in  learning  the  waltz.  For 
instance,  in  the  "  Backward,"  begin  on  the  right  outside 
forward,  and  turn  a  3  (count  one),  drop  on  the  left  out- 
side back  (two),  cross  the  right  foot  behind,  and  continue 
on  the  right  cross-roll  backward  (three).  If  now  you 
are  looking-  over  your  left  shoulder,  as  you  should  on  a 
right  outside  back,  you  will  be  ready  for  the  left  outside 
forward,  ending  with  a  3  (one),  the  drop  on  to  the  right 
outside  back  (two),  and  the  cross-roll  backward  on  the 
left  foot  (three).  The  counting  is  the  same  for  M,  who 
does  the  "Forward,"  but  he  should  be  particular  to  see 
that  his  cross-roll  forward  (in  which  he  makes  the  3)  is 
done  in  exactly  the  same  time  that  N  is  doing  the  cross- 
roll  back.  The  steering  can  be  brought  to  as  high  a  de- 
gree of  perfection  as  in  a  ballroom.  A  variation  of  this 
figure,  called  the  "Flying  Mercury,"  is  sometimes  skated, 
the  difference  being  that  the  skaters  do  not  make  the 
little  turn  or  3,  but  jump  from  one  edge  to  another.  It 
is  very  much  more  difficult,  and  should  not  be  attempted 
without  long  practice  on  the  regular  figure.  After  you 
have  become  proficient  in  skating  the  Mercury  with  a 
•partner,  you  can  do  the  two  movements  by  yourself.  The 
"Forward"  is  particularly  effective  when  done  alone. 

There  are  many  other  hand-in-hand  figures,  such  as 
"Double  Mohawks,"  "Q  Scuds,"and  "Rocking  Turns," 
which  look  well  done  hand  in  hand.  If  you  once  learn 
the  Mercury,  and  get  a  little  insight  into  the  fascinating 
mystery  of  figure-skating,  you  will  be  anxious  to  look 
them  up  in  the  books,  or  seek  the  assistance  of  some 
friendly  expert. 

If  you  have  a  file  or  the  bound  volume  of  the  YOUNG 
PEOPLE  for  1892,  look  up  the  article  on  figure-skating 
under  date  of  March  8th.  It  contains  some  valuable  hints 


on  skate-fastenings  and  foot-gear.  Above  all,  don't  use 
straps,  or  you  will  never  be  able  to  skate  with  confidence 
and  freedom.  It  is  not  strength  but  suppleness  of  ankle 
that  is  required,  and  any  ankle  that  is  strong  enough  to 
walk  on  without  turning  is  strong  enough  to  skate  with. 
Straps  cramp  the  muscles  and  stop  the  circulation.  Use 
heel-plates  and  a  key-fastening  at  the  sole,  unless  you 
can  set  aside  a  pair  of  shoes  for  skating  only,  when  the 
foot-stock  should  be  permanently  attached  to  the  boot  by 
ordinary  screws. 


A    TROUBLESOME   CHILD. 

MY  Maud  Louise  is  a  Paris  doll 
With  the  cunuiugest  turued-up  nose, 
And  four  white  teeth,  and  a  parasol, 
Aud  lace  all  over  her  clothes. 

Ami,  goodness,  isn't  she  just  the  worst! 

She's  never  a  moment  still. 
She  sucked  my  red  balloon  till  it  burst — 

Of  course  she  was  deathly  ill. 

She's  always  running  away  to  hide 

On  purpose  to  make  me  search: 
She  jumps  on  wagons  to  steal  a  ride, 
And  giggles  aloud  iu  church  ! 

She  broke  the  blade  of  iny  pocket-knife ; 

I  haven't  a  dish  uncracked. 
Why,  every  day  of  her  naughty  life 

She  has  to  be  simply  whacked! 

I'm  just  discouraged.     Won't  some  of  you 

Whose  dollies  are  good  and  mild 
Please  write  me,  telling  me  what  to  do 

To  manage  this  dreadful  child  ? 

JULIET  WILUOK  TOMPKINS. 


HOME-MADE    VALENTINES. 

ST.  VALENTINE  is  a  saint  whom  we  all  love  to  honor.  For 
many  years  we  did  homage  to  him  with  lace  paper,  senti- 
mental verses,  and  foolish  pictures.  Then  for  a  time  he  retired 
in  disgust;  but  of  later  years  he  has  come  to  claim  the  attention 
of  both  old  and  young,  and  in  his  name  all  sorts  of  pretty  and 
attractive  trifles  are  sent  from  friend  to  friend. 

Boubounieres  and  flowers  tied  with  true-love  knots  are  per- 
haps the  most  favored  messengers  of  the  older  folk,  but  the 
charming  bits  of  sentiment  which  you  make  yourselves  are  the 
best  possible  valentines  for  you. 

A  valentine  is  a  message  of  love  or  of  true  friendship.  St. 
Valentine's  day  has  become  an  occasion  for  the  sending  of  little 
gifts,  for  remembering  one's  friends  with  dainty  cards  or  with  a 
bunch  of  flowers;  but  fortunately  it  has  not  yet  become  a  rival 
of  Christinas,  and  does  not  entail  giving  to  each  and  every  one, 
only  to  the  chosen  few  whom  you  wish  to  greet  in  loving 
fashion. 

The  bonbon  -  box,  shown  iu  the  first  illustration,  makes  a 
really  delightful  valentine,  and  carries,  besides  the  sentiment  ex- 
pressed by  the  hearts  and  the  arrows,  the  sweets  so  dear  to 
every  girl.  It  is  really  very  simple  to  make.  The  bag  is  of 
silk,  true-blue,  or  anything  you  may  prefer,  and  must  be  made 
and  finished  before  the  hearts  are  touched. 

First  cut  a  disk  of  card-board  four  inches  in  diameter,  and 
cover  it  neatly  on  both  sides  with  the  silk.  Then  cut  a  strip 
thirteen  inches  wide  by  thirty  long,  seam  it,  turn  in  the  upper 
edge  for  a  distance  of  three  inches,  and  stitch  in  casings  halt'  an 
inch  wide  for  tbe  strings.  Gather  the  lower  edge  of  the  strip, 
after  turning  it  under  for  about  half  an  inch,  and  overhand  it 
lirmly  to  the  covered  disk  of  board.  When  that  is  done  begin  to 
make  the  hearts. 

Of  these  there  should  be  four  cut  from  celluloid,  each  measur- 
ing five  inches  at  its  widest  point.  When  they  are  all  in  readi- 
ness punch  a  hole  in  each  at  the  point  of  meeting,  and  tie  them 
all  together  with  narrow  ribbon  as  the  drawing  indicates.  Pur- 
chase four  gilt  or  silver  arrows,  and  stick  them  through  the 
hearts  and  the  bag  iu  such  a  way  as  to  make  all  firm.  Run 
some  ribbons  through  the  casings,  and  till  your  bag  with  con- 
fections. 


FEBRUAEY  5,  1895. 


HAKPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


255 


The  piu-cushiou  is  a  little  more  complicated  than  either  the 
frame  or  the  bag,  and,  when  completed,  makes  a  little  more  of  a 
gift.  It  is  not  difficult,  however,  and  requires  only  attention  as 
to  details. 

You  must  first  buy  four  gilt  arrows  of  medium  size,  such  as  are 
used  for  trimming  hats,  and  must  then  cut  the  pattern  of  a  heart, 
which  shall  be  proportionate  to  them  in  size.  When  that  is 


BONBON-BOX    AND    PIN-CCSHION. 


<lone  cut  two  pieces  of  card-board  after  the  pattern,  and  two 
pieces  of  fine  white  linen  big  enough  to  cover  them.  On  each 
piece  of  liueu  embroider  forget-me-nots.  Press  the  work,  and 
-carefully  cover  the  foundation  boards.  Then  overhand  neatly 
to  each  one  edge  of  a  baud  of  ribbon,  one,  two,  or  three  inches 
wide,  according  to  the  size  of  the  heart.  Leave  a  small  opening 
at  one  side,  and  through  it  fill  all  the  space  between  the  two 
hearts  with  lamb's  wool, until  a  perfect  cushion  is  formed.  Close 
the  opening.  Cross  the  arrows  so  as  to  form  supports  or  feet, 
and  stitch  them  firmly  into  place. 

Tie  a  ribbon  bow  at  each  side  of  the  heart,  and  into  the 
cushion  stick  small  pins  showing  heads  in  heart  shape,  in  four- 
leaf  clover,  and  in  the  lover's  knot.  You  may  be  sure  that  the 
friend  to  whom  you  send  the  greeting  will  be  charmed,  and  that 
_your  valentine  will  be  a  perfect  success. 


THE   STRANGE  ADVENTURES   OF  TOMMY 
TODDLES. 

BY  ALBERT  LEE. 
CHAPTEU    VIII. 

IT  was  a  steep  climb  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  and  when  they 
reached  the  summit  Tommy  was  quite  out  of  breath  and  very 
warm.  He  looked  about  for  some  place  to  rest,  but  there  was 
uot  any.  The  top  of  the  hill  was  bare  except  for  a  few  stubby 
-alder-bushes  and  half  a  dozen  white  birches,  which  trembled  in 
the  breeze  that  was  blowing  in  from  the  sea. 

"  This  is  the  place,"  said  the  Sheep,  presently. 

"I  don't  see  any  other  place  around  here,"  retorted  the  ex- 
Pirate,  "  so  I  suppose  this  must  be  the  place." 

"What  place?"  asked  Tommy. 

"  Don't  you  see  ?"  queried  the  ex-Pirate. 

"Don't  I  see  what?" 

"Everything.  This  is  the  place  where  you  see  everything." 
And  the  ex-Piiate  waved  his  hands  out  toward  the  horizon. 

In  fact,  it  seemed  as  if  what  he  had  said  were  true.  Tommy 
thought  he  really  could  have  Seen  everything  if  his  eyes  had 
•only  been  strong  enough.  The  view  appeared  to  have  no 
bounds.  The  hill  was  not  so  very  high,  yet  it  seemed  to  the 
little  boy  as  if  he  were  up  in  a  balloon,  and  was  looking  down 
upon  the  whole  world.  Not  far  distant  was  the  sea,  with  the 
waves  breaking  on  the  broad  sandy  beach,  and  the  deep  blue 
water  stretching  off  immeasurably  toward  the  sky.  In  the 
other  direction  were  hills  and  valleys  and  green  fields;  and  far 
away  were  peaceful  towns  and  villages  with  chui'ch  spires  stick- 
ing up  out  of  a  tangle  of  roofs  and  chimneys.  Tommy  felt  very 
much  impressed,  and  wondered  again  how  it  was  that  he  and 
his  Uncle  Dick  had  never  discovered  this  beautiful  spot.  "  How 
nice  it  would  be  to  have  a  house  up  here,"  mused  the  little  boy, 
and  then  he  suddenly  bethought  himself  of  his  own  house  that 
he  had  run  away  from  so  unexpectedly.  He  looked  over  in  the 
direction  where  he  thought  the  big  bouse  ought  to  be,  but  he 
could  not  locate  it  anywhere  in  the  landscape,  and  he  did  not 
quite  like  to  ask  the  Sheep  or  the  ex-Pirate  to  show  it  to  him. 
"  It  must  be  an  awful  long  way  off,"  he  concluded,  mentally,  "  if 


I  can't  see  it  from  here."  And  then  he  sighed  and  wondered 
how  he  was  ever  going  to  get  back. 

"  Well,  I  don't  see  them,"  exclaimed  the  Sheep,  who  had  been 
standing  on  top  of  a  bowlder,  and  peering  intently  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  ocean. 

"You  don't  see  who?"  asked  Tommy,  coming  out  of  his 
reverie. 

"The  animals." 

"Perhaps  they  are  behind  that  knoll  yonder,"  suggested  the 
ex-Pirate.  "  The  Penguin  lives  there,  and  they  may  be  calling 
at  his  house." 

"They  maybe,"  said  the  Sheep.  "We'll  go  there."  And  he 
jumped  to  the  ground. 

"But  can't  we  rest  a  little  while  first?"  pleaded  Tommy. 

"  Certainly  ;  let's  rest,"  said  the  ex-Pirate  ;  "  and  we'll  have 
some  luncheon  too.  Kindly  ring  the  bluebells." 

Tommy  had  taken  a  seat  on  the  grass  near  one  of  the  birches, 
but  he  had  not  noticed  that  there  was  a  beautiful  spray  of  blue- 
bells growing  almost  at  his  elbow.  When  the  ex-Pirate  called 
his  attention  to  them  he  leaned  over  and  touched  the  flowers, 
and  as  he  did  so  they  tinkled  merrily  and  loudly,  just  like  his 
mother's  tea-bell  at  home. 

"  That's  right,"  said  the  Sheep,  quite  heedless  of  Tommy's  sur- 
prised look.  "  That  will  bring  the  Dumb  Waiter.  Indeed, 
there  he  comes  now." 

All  three  looked  down  toward  the  foot  of  the  hill,  in  the  di- 
rection pointed  out  by  the  Sheep,  and  they  saw  some  one  coming 
rapidly  up  toward  them.  As  he  approached,  Tommy  perceived 
that  the  new-comer  was  an  undersized  man  with  a  bald  head 
and  side  whiskers.  He  wore  a  short  black  coat  and  a  long 
white  apron  that  hnug  down  to  his  toes,  just  like  the  waiters 
Tommy  had  seen  in  the  city  restaurants. 

"That's  the  Dumb-Waiter,"  said  the  ex-Pirate  to  the  little 
boy.  "What  do  you  want  to  eat  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  ;  what  can  I  have?" 

••Anything." 

"  I  think  I'd  like  something  sweet." 

"You  can  have  a  sweet-potato,"  said  the  ex-Pirate  ;  and  then, 
turning  to  the  Sheep,  "What  will  yon  have?" 

"  Can  yon  spare  a  grass  ?"  asked  the  Sheep. 

"Do  you  like  asparagus?"  broke  in  Tommy;  but  before  the 
Shri-p  could  answer,  the  ex-Pirate  turned  on  the  little  boy 
sharply  and  said :  "  Keep  quiet  until  your  next  tnru  comes.  You 
have  ordered  once !" 

And  so  Tommy  leaned  up  against  the  birch  and  said  nothing 
more,  but  just  gazed  at  the  Dumb-Waiter,  \vho  stood  near  by  in 
silencr,  bowing  his  head  respectfully  at  each  order  given  to  him 
by  the  ex-Pirate. 

"Well,  what  will  you  have?" 

"I  guess  I'll  take  some  Hayberry  Long -cake,"  replied  the 
Sheep. 

"Very  \vell.  Hayberry  Long- cake  for  him,"  said  the  ex- 
Pirate,  "  and  you  may  bring  me  some  soft-boiled  egg-plants  and 
some  watermelon  on  toast." 

Then  the  Dumb-Waiter  bowed  again,  and  began  making  his 
preparations  for  serving  the  luncheon.  All  his  dishes  and  knives 
and  forks  seemed  to  be  down  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  and  he  kept 
running  up  and  dmvu  for  some  time  to  collect  these.  He  never 
seemed  to  bring  up  more  than  one  or  two  things  at  a  time,  and 
seldom  the  thing  that  was  wanted.  The  ex-Pirate  kept  finding 
fault  with  him  and  scolding  bim,  and  at  last  he  turned  to  Tom- 
my and  said : 

"  That's  always  the  way  with  these  Durub-Waiters.  They 
never  bring  up  what  you  want." 

And  at  each  word  of  reproof  the  Dumb-Waiter  would  exclaim, 
"Oh  my,  but  I  do  get  so'tired  of  running  up  and  down!"  and 
then  he  would  disappear  down  the  hill  again  and  bring  up  what 
was  wanted. 

"I  thought  you  said  he  was  a  dumb  waiter?"  remarked  Tom- 
my, after  he  had  heard  the  servant  speak  several  times. 

"  He  is  a  Dumb-Waiter,"  replied  the  Sheep. 

"  But  I  thought  a  dumb  waiter  meant  one  who  could  not  talk," 
continued  the  little  boy. 

"Oh  no,"  laughed  the  Sheep.  "We  call  him  a  Dumb- Waiter 
because  he  runs  up  and  down.  AH  Dumb-Waiters  run  up  and 
down,  you  know,"  and  as  Tommy  had  never  seen  any  dumb- 
waiters that  did  not  run  up  and  down  (except  when  they  were 
out  of  order),  he  was  forced  to  be  contented  with  this  peculiar 
and  rather  unsatisfactory  explanation. 

When  the  Dumb-Waiter  had  brought  up  all  that  was  neces- 
sary for  the  meal,  the  ex-Pirate  got  down  on  his  hands  ijAjl 
knees  and  wanted  the  servant  to  set  the  table  on  his  hack. 


256 


HARPER'S    YOUNG    PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


THE    DUMB-WAITER    BROUGHT    THE    CAKE    UP    THE    HILL    ON 
HOLLER-SKATES. 

"What  for?"  asked  the  Sheep. 

"Why,  I  want  this  luncheon  to  be  on  me,  you  know,"  explain- 
ed the  ex-Pirate,  genially ;  lint  the  Sheep  would  not  agree  to 
this,  and  wanted  it  to  be  on  him.  A  wrangle  ensued,  in  which 
Tommy  wisely  decided  to  take  no  part,  and  the  two  disputants 
finally  compromised  on  allowing  the  ex-Pirate  to  sit  down  and 
hold  the  dishes  on  his  lap  instead  of  having  them  served  on  his 
back. 

"  I  am  glad  you  like  sweet  things,"  he  remarked  to  Tommy,  as 
the  little  boy  began  to  eat  his  sweet-potato. 

"I  can't  say  that  I  care  much  for  sweet-potatoes,  though," 
ventured  Tommy,  who  was  forcing  himself  to  eat  so  as  not  to  be 
impolite  to  his  host. 

"Oh,  no  matter,"  answered  the  ex-Pirate,  pleasantly;  "try 
something  else."  (But  Tommy  noticed  that  there  was  nothing 
else  to  try.)  "All  sweet  things  arc  sweet,  you  know,"  lie  con- 
tinued; "  even  things  that  apparently  have  no  taste.  Now  love- 
letters,  for  instance,  are  sweet." 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  put  iu  the  Sheep.  "The  Monkey's  love-letter 
must  have  been  sweet.  But  then  he  wrote  it  iu  jam." 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  about  that?"  asked  the  ex-Pirate,  turning 
to  Tommy,  and  upsetting  several  dishes  into  the  grass  as  lie  did 
so.  "It  is  classic  —  one  of  my  classics."  And  then,  without 
waiting  for  the  little  boy  to  answer,  he  began  to  recite/ : 

"Said  the  Monkey  to  the  Tapir, 

*  im-  Sunday  afternoon, 
'  Wcin't  \ou  let  me  have  some  paper, 
With  some  jelly  and  a  spoon? 

'  For  I  want  to  write  a  letter 

To  a  pretty  Perroqueet, 
And  1   really  think  I'd  better 

Make  the  message  rather  s\yeet.'  " 


"It  was  raspberry  jelly,"  commented  the  Sheep. 

"What!"  fxi  laimed  Tommy.  "Did  the  Monkey  use  a  spoon 
for  a  pen  and  raspberry  jelly  for  ink?" 

"That's  what  he  did,"  said  the  ex-Pirate.  "It  was  a  red- 
letter  day  for  the  Perroqueet,  I  tell  you!" 

Further  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the  arrival  of  the 
Hay  berry  Long-cake.  This  was  a  new  dish  to  Tommy.  It  was  a 
sort  of  cake,  apparently  stuffed  with  hay  or  straw,  and  was  fully 
three  yards  long.  The  Dumb-Waiter  brought  the  cake  up  the 
hill  on  roller-skates.  One  skate  was  fastened  to  each  end  of  the 
cake,  so  that  it  looked  like  an  eight-wheeled  toy  wagon.  The 
Sheep  ate  several  yards  of  the  odd  delicacy,  and  the  ex-Pirate 
likewise  took  a  number  of  slices,  and  when  they  had  eaten  as 
much  as  they  could,  they  called  the  Dumb-Waiter  and  made  him 
eat  some  of  it,  because,  as  they  explained  afterwards  to  Tommy, 
they  always  feed  the  waiter.  Then  they  all  three  arose  and 
started  down  the  hill  toward  the  sea-shore. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


IT   ALL   DEPENDED. 

"BOBBIE,"  said  the  teacher,  "spell  eye." 
"  Which  one  do  you  mean?"  said  Bobbie, 
with  or  the  I  you  say  one  with?" 


"The  eye  you  see 


A   BUSINESS  PROPOSITION. 

" MAMMA,"  said  Willie,  "do  you  pay  Jennie  fifteen  dollars  a 
month  for  looking  after  me?" 

"No,  sixteen,"  said  Mamma.  "She  is  a  good  nurse  and  de- 
serves it." 

"  Well,  I  say,  ma,  I'll  look  after  myself  for  ten.  You'll  save 
six  by  it." 


DIDN'T  LIKE  TO  BE  CALLED  NAMES. 

"How  do  you  like  that  little  French  girl  next  door,  Polly  ?" 
"  Don't  like  her  at  all,"  said  Polly.      "  She   calls  me  names. 
She  called  me  a  ma'amselle  yesterday,  and  I  ain't." 


THOUGHT  IT  WAS  SMOKE. 

•'  WHY,  mamma,"  said  Willie,  as  he  went  out  into  the  cold  and 
could  see  his  own  breath,  "  give  me  a  glass  of  water  quick.  I 
must  be  on  fire  inside." 


BOBBIE'S  OFFER. 
THERE'S  a  lot  of  fine  things  I'd  like  to  be, 

But  don't  you  make  any  mistake. 
The  best,  of  the  lot,  as  it  seems  to  me, 

Is  to  be 

A  great  big  scrap-basket  for  scraps  of  cake, 
Or  a  box  for  spice — 
They're  both  of  'em   nice. 
If  you  want  me  for  either,  I'll  come  for  half  price. 


THE  REASON  WHY. 
JACK  had  been  to  the  barber  shop  with  his  father.     On  the 

way  back  he  asked,  "  Was  that  charlotte-russe  he  put  on  your 

face  ?" 

"No, my  son,"  was  the  reply.     "That  was  lather." 

"Oh!"  said  Jack.     "I  wondered  why  you  let  him  whittle  it 

oft'  without  tasting  it." 


HIS  ADVENTURE. 

WILBUR.  "  I  got  lost  out  iu  the  woods  to-day." 
UNCI.E  BEN.  "And  what  did  you  do?" 

WILBUR.  "  I  just  got  scared,  and  wandered  'round  till  I  found 
mvself." 


A  DISCOVERY. 

"MA,"  said  Robbie,  "  I  know  why  canary-birds  is  all  yeller." 
"Why,  dear?" 
"Because  they're  always  yelling." 


AN  ORNITHOLOGICAL  QUERY. 

ALICE.  "The  owl  can  only  see  iu  the  dark,  can't  he,  aunty?" 
AUNTY.  "Yes,  Alice." 

ALICE.  "  Then  what  do  you  suppose  he  sees  when  he  shuts  his 
eyes  ?" 


HARPER'S 


H 


TCUNG  PEOPLE 


Copyright,  1895,  by  lliRi-hu  4  BR..TOIRS.     All  Rijl.la  R 


PUBLISHED    WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI. — NO.  798. 


NEW  YORK,   TUESDAY,  FEBRUARY  12,  1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO    DOLLAI1S   A    TEAR. 


A    NOCTURNAL     REPULSE. 


A    STORY    OF    ST.    VALENTINE'S    DAY. 


BY    L.    A.    TEREBEL 


IT  was  only  natural  that  the  boys  of  the  Hamford 
School  should  be  in  all  things  the  rivals  of  the  boys 
of  the  Tarlton  School,  inasmuch  as  the  two  towns  were 
only  five  miles  apart,  and  every  year  there  were  baseball 
games  and  football  matches  and  tennis  tournaments  held 
to  determine  which  school  should  boast  the  champion- 
ship. In  some  ways  the  Hamford  School  had  the  advan- 
tage, for  there  were  thirty-three  boys  there,  whereas  at 
Tarlton  the  roll  showed  but  twenty-six,  including  little 
Willie  Ricketts,  who  was  only  ten  years  old,  and  enjoyed 


the  distinction  of  being  the  smallest  boy  of  either  institu- 
tion. Nevertheless,  as  Willie  used  to  say  himself,  he  was 
"right,  in  the  game"  with  the  older  boys,  and  he  insisted 
upon  being  called  Ricketts  l>y  them,  instead  of  Willie, 
which  he  considered  "too  young." 

It  had  been  the  custom,  ever  since  the  Tarlton  Academy 
had  existed,  for  the  boys  t<>  have  some  sort  of  midwinter 
celebration  between  the  Christmas  and  Easter  holidays, 
and  latterly  this  celebration  had  come  to  be  held  on  St. 
Valentine's  day.  since  that  came  about  mid-term,  and  fur- 


258 


HARPER'S    YOUNG    PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


nished,  as  the  French  professor  used  to  put  it,  a  good 
raison  d'etre.  It  was  the  custom,  top,  to  invite  the  Ham- 
ford  boys  to  the  party,  but  this  year  the  latter  received  no 
invitations,  because  at  the  football  game  the  previous  No- 
vember they  had  impressed  the  town  butcher  boy  into 
their  rush-line,  and  had  put  up  such  an  un gentlemanly 
game  besides  (in  order  to  win  the  championship,  which 
they  had  not  held  for  three  years),  that  the  Tarlton  boys 
decided  to  have  no  more  to  do  with  them  until  they 
showed  themselves  in  every  way  more  worthy  of  their  at- 
tention. Of  course,  the  Hamford  scholars  said  they  did 
not  care  to  go  to  Tarlton — five  miles  across  the  snow — to 
a  Valentine  party  or  to  any  other  kind  of  a.  party,  and 
that,  anyhow,  they  would  not  have  gone  this  year  if  they 
had  been  asked.  Nevertheless,  they  chafed  under  the 
gentle  snub,  and  some  of  the  more  unforgiving  ones 
among  them  proposed  to  retaliate. 

"I'll  tell  you  how  it  was,"  said  little  Willie  Ricketts, 
after  he  had  gathered  all  the  Tarlton  boys  lie  could  find, 
and  they  had  locked  the  door  of  the  school-room.  They 
were  talking  in  whispers,  and  there  was  no  light  except 
what  slipped  out  through  the  cracks  in  the  stove. 

"I'll  tell  you  how  it  was.  You  know  my  aunt  prom- 
ised to  contribute  the  cream -cakes  for  the  Valentine 
party — 

"Yep!"  ejaculated  the  fat  boy  so  loudl}',  that  Tim 
Denny  had  to  poke  him  in  the  ribs  to  make  him  keep 
quiet. 

"  Well, "continued  Willie,  "old  Blotter,  down  on  Bank 
Street,  says  he's  got  so  much  to  do  for  that  Valentine 
party  he  can't  make  the  cream-cakes." 

"Oh,  pshaw!"  murmured  the  fat  boy,  and  Tim  poked 
again. 

"So  Blotter  told  my  aunt  he  thought  Bin  nicks,  at 
Hamford,  could  make  'em,  and  send  'em  over  in"  the  af- 
ternoon." (A  sort  of  gurgling  noise  from  the  fat  boy.) 
"So  to-day  she  took  me  to  drive  the  horse,  and  we  went 
over  to  Hamford  in  a  cutter,  and  she  talked  with  Bhi- 
nicks,  and  Binnicks  said  he'd  make  the  calces  for  us. 
And  then  my  aunt  says  for  me  to  stay  at- Binnicks's  and 
keep  warm  while  she  calls  on  old  Mrs.  Talbot;  and  they 
put  me  in  one  of  those  little  stalls  of  Binnicks's,  where 
they  serve  ice-cream  and  stuff,  you  know,  and  they  gave 
me  a  cup  of  chocolate  and  a  huge  piece  of  cake." 

"  Gosh  !"  interrupted  the  fat  boy  again.  "  What  kind, 
Ricketts?" 

But  Willie  disdained  to  reply.  "Well,  now,  here's  how 
it  happened.  I  hadn't  been  in  there  two  minutes  when 
three  o'  those  Hamford  fellows  came  in  and  sat  down  in 
the  next  coop  to  mine,  and  ordered  a  whole  apple-pie  and 
some  hot  lemonade.  And  one  of  'em  says,  '  This  ain't 
anything  to  what  our  Valentine  party  '11  be.'  And  an- 
other says,  'Wonder  if  Tarlton  pie  is  as  good  as  this?' 
And  another  says,  'I  know  from  experience  that  Tarl- 
ton ice-cream  is  mighty  good.'  Of  course  I  could  not  help 
hearing  all  they  said — the  partition  was  so  thiii — and 
what  do  you  think?  The  Hamford  crowd's  goiu'  to  sneak 
over  here  the  night  of  our  party  in  a  sleigh,  and  try  to 
steal  the  freezers  off  the  back  steps,  and  rush  the  kitchen, 
and  get  all  the  cake  and  stuff,  and  carry  it  off  and  eat  it 
themselves!" 

Now  there  was  nothing  Willie  Ricketts  could  have 
said  that  would  have  caused  greater  consternation  among 
the  Tarlton  School  boys  than  the  announcement  of  the 
proposed  invasion  from  Hamford.  The  fat  boy  nearly 
fainted,  and  wanted  to  notify  Mr.  Day,  the  principal  of 
the  rival  academy,  at  once.  But  the  older  boys  patted 
Willie  on  the  back  and  called  him  "Ricketts,  old  man," 
and  made  him  tell  the  story  all  over  again  in  detail,  and 
then  they  held  a  council  of  war.  They  decided  that  it 
would  be  improbable  that  more  than  ten  or  a  dozen  of  the 
Hamford  boys  would  come  over  to  do  the  stealing,  and 
they  concluded  that  the  twenty -six  boys  of  the  Tarltou 


Academy  were  sufficient  to  meet  and  punish  them.  So 
they  decided  to  say  nothing  to  Mr.  Burns,  the  Head  Mas- 
ter, or  to  any  one  else,  and  after  half  an  hour's  discussion 
they  hit  upon  a  plan  of  action  that  suited  everybody,  in- 
cluding little  Willie  Ricketts,  who  thought  it  was 
great. 

During  the  following-  four  days  which  preceded  St. 
Valentine's,  the  boys  of  the  Tarlton  School  spent  all  their 
leisure  hours  in  throwing  snowballs.  At  recess  they 
plugged  away  at  the  trees  and  the  fences,  and  even  in  the 
evening  they  went  out  in  the  yard  and  threw  snowballs 
in  the  dark.  Mr.  Burns  thought  his  scholars  had  all  been 
seized  with  a  mania  for  snowballing,  but  as  long  as  they 
pelted  the  trees,  and  not  one  another,  he  did  not  interfere. 
On  the  afternoon  of  St.  Valentine's  day  they  ceased  throw- 
ing, and  spent  most  of  the  time  in  the  moulding  of  snow- 
balls, which  they  carefully  laid  in  rows  along  the  back  of 
the  house  near  the  kitchen,  and  down  near  the  gate. 
They  must  have  made  several  hundred,  all  nice  round 
ones. 

The  Valentine  party  began  at  half  past  seven  o'clock. 
All  the  young  people  of  Tarlton  were  present,  and  there 
were  games  of  every  description.  Everybody  seemed  to 
be  having  a  delightful  time,  and  nobody  appeared  to  no- 
tice that  three  or  four  of  the  boys  were  always  ab- 
sent. 

At  the  council  of  war,  Tim  Denny  had  been  elected 
general-in-chief  for  the  defence  of  the  ice-cream,  and  he 
had  made  very  elaborate  plans  to  thwart  the  dark  schemes 
of  the  Hamford  invaders.  He  arranged  to  have  four  out- 
posts where  boys  should  watch  until  the  enemy  appeared, 
and  then  give  the  alarm,  which  was  to  be  sounded  on  a 
tin  fish-horn.  Each  picket  was  provided  with  such  a 
horn.  One  stood  at  an  upper  window,  another  perched  in 
a  tree  near  the  rear  gate,  a  third  in  another  tree  near  the 
front  gate,  and  a  fourth  loitered  in  the  main  hallway  of 
the  school-house,  so  as  to  blow  his  horn  in-doors  as  soon 
as  he  heard  the  alarm  from  the  watchers  outside.  Tim 
changed  his  pickets  every  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes,  so 
that  none  of  the  guests  would  notice  the  absence  of  any 
of  the  boys.  Shortly  after  eight  o'clock  Willie  Ricketts's 
turn  to  watch  came,  and  he  ran  out  to  the  tree  in  the 
back  yard  and  relieved  the  fat  boy. 

'"Sh!"  said  the  latter.  "I  just  saw  two  fellows  walk 
up  the  street  and  look  at  the  house,  and  walk  around  to 
the  front.  I  couldn't  recognize  'em,  but  I  guess  they're 
Hamforders!" 

The  fat  boy's  teeth  were  chattering  with  cold  and  ex- 
citement as  he  slid  clown  to  the  ground  and  gave  the  tin- 
horn to  Willie,  who  clambered  quickly  up  into  the  tree. 
Then,  when  silence  had  been  completely  restored  after 
the  change  of  pickets,  and  nothing  could  be  heard  but 
the  shouts  and  laughter  of  the  merrymakers  in  the  school- 
house,  Willie  peered  down  the  snow-covered  street,  and 
presently  saw  a  sleigh  with  several  people  in  it  coming 
slowly  toward  him.  There  was  nothing  remarkable 
about  the  sleigh,  except  that  the  horses  wore  no  sleigh- 
bells,  which  was  a  very  unusual  thing  for  self-respecting 
horses  lo  do  in  Tarlton.  So  Willie  kept  very  quiet  and 
made  himself  as  small  as  possible,  and  waited  with  his 
heart  jumping  and  thumping  as  though  it  would  leap  out 
of  his  throat. 

The  sleigh  came  slowly  up  until  it  was  abreast  of  the 
school-house  and  then  stopped.  It  was  drawn  by  two 
horses,  and  carried,  as  near  as  the  little  boy  could  discern, 
eight  persons.  One  of  them  got  out  quietly,  and  hastened 
across  the  snow  to  the  rear  of  the  school  house,  where  the 
freezers  stood.  Willie  had  orders  not  to  give  the  alarm 
until  all  the  marauders  were  in  the  yard,  so  he  prepared 
to  blow  his  horn  as  soon  as  the  others  should  respond  to 
the  low  whistle  that  the  first  boy  had  just  sounded.  But 
poor  little  Willie  Ricketts  had  become  so  numb  and  ex- 
cited up  there  ill  the  branches,  that  his  fingers  did  not  get 


FEBKUAEY  12,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


259 


a  g-ood  hold  011  the  horn,  and  it  went  banging-  down  the 
side  of  the  tree  to  the  ground  with  an  alarming-  noise. 
At  this  Willie  was  almost  ready  to  cry  with  disappoint- 
ment, but  fortunately  the  necessity  for  this  was  quickly 
removed  by  Tim  Denny  himself,  who  had  been  taking  his 
turn  at  the  garret  window,  who  had  seen  everything,  and 
had  been  hoping  that  Willie  would  not  blow  too  soon. 
So  Tim  put  the  whole  force  of  his  lungs  into  his  fish-horn, 
the  boy  in  the  hall  blew  like  a  madman,  and  little  Willie 
almost  shrieked  himself  hoarse. 

Every  boy  of  the  Tarlton  School,  as  if  actuated  by  one 
impulse,  rushed  for  the  doors  as  soon  as  they  heard  the 
alarm.  They  poured  out  into  the  yard,  where  they  saw 
half  a  dozen  strange  boys  struggling  across  the  snow  with 
the  heavy  ice-cream  freezers  toward  the  sleigh  near  the 
back  gate.  The  Tarlton  scholars  grabbed  their  conven- 
ient snowballs,  and  let  fly  such  a  shower  of  frozen  missiles 
at  the  ice-cream  thieves  as  had  never  been  seen  before. 
Almost  every  ball  seemed  to  hit  the  mark,  too.  The  ma- 
rauders dropped  the  pails  (which  were  really  only  dum- 
mies filled  with  bricks),  and  ran  for  their  sleigh,  after 
making  a  slight  pretense  at  retaliation. 

"  Aim  at  the  horses!"  shouted  little  Willie  Ricketts,  in 
his  shrill  voice,  and  a  shower  of  snowballs  started  the 
Hamford  steeds  at  a  breakneck  speed  down  the  road,  while 
a  second  volley  fell  on  the  heads  and  backs  of  the  boys  in 
the  sleigh.  One  boy  was  thrown  out  by  the  sudden  leap 
of  the  frightened  horses,  and  was  unmercifully  pelted  as 
he  got  up  and  ran  after  his  fast -disappearing  compan- 
ions. 

The  Tarllon  boys  were  satisfied  with  their  victory,  and 
did  not  pursue  their  enemies.  They  returned  to  the 
school-house,  where  all  the  guests  had  gathered  in  their 
wraps  at  the  doors  and  windows  to  see  what  all  the  shout- 
ing and  throwing  was  about.  The  scholars  came  into  the 
brilliantly  lighted  school-room,  where  they  found  Mr. 
Burns  sitting  in  his  chair,  wearing  a  somewhat  severe  ex- 
pression of  countenance.  But  they  felt  conscious  of  hav- 
ing done  right,  and  before  the  Head  Master  could  ask  for 
an  explanation,  little  Willie  Rieketts  was  lifted  up  on  to 
the  platform,  where  he  said  he  would  explain  the  whole 
thing  to  everybody  if  they  would  only  sit  down  and  be 
quiet. 

When  he  had  finished  the  story  he  was  loudly  cheered, 
and  the  ice-cream  and  cake  were  immediately  brought  iu 
by  the  servants. 

The  next  day  Mr.  Burns  went  over  to  Hamford  and 
called  on  Mr.  Day.  The  result  was  that  all  the  Hamford 
boys  were  summoned  into  the  school-room,  and  eight  of 
them,  who  had  black  eyes  and  bruised  heads  and  faces, 
were  disgracefully  dismissed. 


D' 


THE  FOUR  WINDS. 

BY  MABGAKET  E.   SANGSTER. 

THE  wind  o'  the  West 
I  love  it  best. 
The  wind  o'  the  East 
I  love  it  least. 

The  wind  o'  the  South 
Has  sweet  in  its  month. 
The  wind  o'  the  North 
Sends  great  storms  forth. 

Taken  together  nil  sorts  of  weather, 

The  four  old  fellows  are  sure  to  briug — 
Hurry  and  Hurry,  rush  aud  scurry, 
Sighing  and  dying,  and  flitting  and  flying, 

Through  summer  and  autumn  a,ud  winter  aud  spring. 


A    MUSICAL   GENIUS. 

(UEING  the  reign  of  Louis  XI.  of  France  there  was  attached 
to  his  court  one  Abbot  de  Baigne,  a  man  of  considerable 
wit.  The  Abbot  was  somewhat  musically  inclined,  and  delighted 
the  court  with  inventions  of  odd  musical  instruments.  One 
day  the  King,  after  having  enjoyed  a  hearty  laugh  over  one  of 
these  curious  contrivances,  aud  desiring  to  baffle  this  musical 
genius,  commanded  him  to  produce  harmonious  sounds  from 
the  cries  of  hogs.  This  seemed  an  impossibility  to  the  King, 
and  he  prepared  himself  to  enjoy  the  discomfiture  of  the  Al.l.oT. 
Much  to  his  surprise,  however,  the  Abbot  readily  agreed  to  pro- 
duce them.  All  he  required  was  a  sum  of  money,  upon  the  re- 
ceipt of  which  he  declared  he  would  invent  the  most  surprising 
thing  that  was  ever  heard. 

!!<•  scoured  the  country  aud  secured  a  large  quantity  of  hogs, 
trying  their  voices  as  to  pitch  aud  quality,  and  finally,  having 
fully  satisfied  himself,  he  arranged  the  animals  in  a  sort  of  pa- 
vilion richly  decorated.  The  day  of  the  trial  arrived,  and  the 
King  and  his  court  entered  the  pavilion  prepared  for  some- 
thing, but  greatly  iu  doubt  as  to  the  success  of  the  Abbot  with 
the  hogs.  However,  there  were  the  hogs,  sure  enough,  and 
much  to  the  surprise  and  delight  of  the  King  they  commenced 
to  cry  harmoniously  and  in  good  tune,  rendering  an  air  that 
was  fairly  recognized. 

The  Abbot  had  arranged  a  series  of  stops  that  were  connected 
with  the  hogs,  and  upon  pulling  one  of  them  out  caused  a  spike 
to  prick  the  hog  it  connected  with,  making  him  squeal  his  note. 
The  rest  was  easy,  for  pulling  out  the  different  stops  he  pro- 
duced the  tune.  The  King  and  all  his  attendants  were  highly 
delighted  with  it. 


A  "DOROTHY  Q"  PARTY. 

BY  EMMA  J.  GRAY. 

IT  had  snowed  hard  all  day,  but  the  preparations  for 
the  party  had  gone  on  just  the  same.  "Because 
children  take  to  snow  as  ducks  do  to  water,"  grandpapa 
had  said;  and  then  added,  with  a  grave  shake  of  his  head, 
"  Instead  of  any  of  them  staying  away,  it  will  seem  as  if 
twice  as  many  children  are  here.  Don't  I  know;  snow 
makes  them  perfectly  wild  with  jollity." 

And  now  that  it  was  five  o'clock,  and  the  electric  lights 
appeared  one  by  one,  the  snow  had  ceased.  Patches  of 
crimson  could  be  seen  through  the  deepening  twilight; 
indeed,  the  western  sky  was  rosy. 

'Are   you    happy,   Marion?    or  perhaps   you   are   not 
Marion  to-night,  but  Dorothy." 

"  Dorothy,  grandpapa, "and  then,  to  the  surprise  of  the 
old  gentleman,  she  twined  her  arm  around  his  waist  and 
tempted  him  to  waltz  with  her,  while  she  sang,  "I'm  so 
happy,  happy  as  can  be."  Marion  was  a  charming  girl, 
an  only  child,  and  her  grandpapa's  pet.  The  party  of 
to-night  was  his  gift  to  her.  So  after  the  little  waltz  she 
stopped  short,  as  if  a  sudden  thought  had  come,  and  again 
she  answered,  this  time  with  a  voice  which  came  from 
her  heart,  "Oh,  yes,  very  happy!"  But  no  sooner  were 
the  words  spoken  than  she  excitedly  skipped  away,  say- 
ing, "Why,  it's  after  five  o'clock;  the  invitations  are 
from  seven,  and  I  must  get  dressed,  or  my  friends  will  be 
here  before  I  am  ready." 

It  was  half  after  six  when  grandpapa,  in  full  evening 
toilet,  walked  into  the  parlor.  The  house  was  of  the  Co- 
lonial type,  and  so  had  the  breadth  of  floor  and  front 
that  gives  elbow-room.  It  was  a  grand  old  house,  even 
if  it  was  hemmed  in  by  tall,  narrow,  modern  buildings. 
Many  passers-by  looked  at  it,  and  everybody'  ached  to  get 
inside  of  it  and  know  its  hospitable  welcome.  So  when 
invitations  were  out  for  a  Dorothy  Q  party,  to  be  given 
at  the  home  of  Miss  Marion  Fiske,  on  the  evening  of 
Washington's  birthday,  you  may  be  sure  there  was  a 
stir  and  flutter  among  the  happy  fortunates.  Every 
night  was  counted  from  the  time  the  postman  left  the 
dainty  invitation,  till  at  last  the  grand  festival  had  really 
and  truly  come. 

Grandpapa  had  not  long  to  wait  before  there  came  a 


260 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


lig-lit  foot  down  the  stair,  and  then,  behold  what  a  trans- 
formation !  Was  this  indeed  his  little  Marion,  the  child 
with  whom  he  had  been  dancing  not  two  hours  before? 

How  she  did  laugh  when  she  saw  her  grandpapa's  di- 
lemma! And  how  pleased  she  was  when,  arranging  his 
spectacles  so  as  not  to  lose  one  atom  of  detail,  he  interest- 
edly turned  her  around  and  around,  and  finally,  with  a 
satisfactory  ahem,  said:  "Why,  child,  you  are  a  real 
Dorothy  Q,  parrot  and  all.  Let  me  see,  how  do  the  words 
go: 

"'Grandmother's  mother;  her  age,  I  guess, 

Thirteen  summers,  or  something  less; 

(iirlisli  bust,  but  womanly  air; 

Smooth  square  foreheail,  with  rolled-up  hair. 

Lips  that  lover  lias  never  kissed, 

Taper  lingers    and  slender  wrist. 

Hanging  sleeves  of  stiff  brocade — 

So  they  painted  the  little  maid. 

On  her  hand  a  parrot  green 

Sits  unmoving  and  broods  serene.' 

But  where  did  you  get  Hie  parrot?"  he  questioned,  as  he 
almost  dazedly  stroked  the  bird's  head. 

"Don't  you  remember  our  pretty  Poll?  She  died 
when  I  was  seven  years  old,  and  because  I  was  so  discon- 
solate and  cried  so  much,  you  had  her  stuffed  for  me." 

"  That's  a  fact.  I  remember  all  about  her  now.  I  was 
afraid  you'd  die  too,  you  cried  so  perpetually.  But  where 
has  Poll  been  all  this  time?" 


"On  her  hand  a  parrot  green 
Sits  unmoving  and  broods  serene." 


"Oh,  packed  away  in  an  up-stairs  closet.  She  comes  out 
on  occasions,  and  this  is  one  of  them.  But  there  goes  the 
gong." 

"Why,  it  isn't  seven  o'clock,  child,"  said  grandpapa, 
as  he  leisurely  pulled  out  his  watch,  while  adding,  "I 
should  think  none  of  your  guests  would  arrive  ahead  of 
time. " 

"I  reckon  it's  George." 

"George  who?"  And  grandpapa  gave  the  sweet  up- 
turned face  a  keen,  critical  look. 

"Why,  George  Washington,  of  course.  I  asked  him 
to  come  early  so  as  to  get  ahead  of  the  others,  for  we  are 
all  going  to  celebrate  his  birthday.  Haven't  you  heard, 
grandpapa?" 

"Not  a  word.  I  supposed  you  meant  to  keep  it  a 
secret. " 

"Then  listen,  for  I  must  talk  quickly,  or  that  boy  up- 
stairs will  be  down  before  I  am  through."  And  in  her 
eagerness  Marion  put  both  of  her  little  hands  on  one  of 
her  grandfather's  big  ones.  "It  is  this  way:  the  boy 
that  has  just  come  you  will  see  dressed  in  exact  copy  of 
George  Washington.  Many  of  the  other  boys  will  repre- 
sent prominent  Revolutionary  heroes,  as  John  Hancock, 
General  Greene,  General  Gates,  General  Charles  Lee, 
General  Lafayette,  and  so  on,  but  those  who  I  thought 
could  not  or  would  not  care  to  take  a  notable  character 
will  wear  the  uniform  of  a  private  soldier,  which  in  this 
case  will  be  evening  dress.  And  the  girls,  grandpapa  "- 
and  Marion  had  become  so  excited  that  the  parrot  no 
longer  "  sat  unmoving  and  serene,"  but,  indeed,  had  tum- 
bled for  one  second  to  the  flooi — "  the  girls  are  to  repre- 
sent our  States,  and,  thanks  to  this  big  house,  we  enter- 
tain to-night  all  of  the  United  States." 

Grandpapa  being  an  out-and-out  patriot,  a  son  of  the 
Revolution,  could  no  longer  sit  still,  but  paced  up  and 
down,  rubbing'  his  hands  together  as  lie  walked,  and 
nervously  drawing  out  his  watch  and  as  nervously  re- 
placing it,  so  impatient  was  he  for  the  girls  to  arrive. 
"How  did  you  let  them  know,  child?" 
"That  was  simple  enough.  Mamma  put  in  the  envel- 
ope with  the  invitation  a  small  card  advising  who  or 
what  each  one  was  to  represent.  For  example,  '  Kindly 
take  the  character  of  General  Armstrong,'  'Kindly  per- 
sonate the  State  of  Virginia.'  I  took  it  for  granted  all 
would  know  what  to  do,  and  if  they  did  not  they  would 
ask  me.  There  are  any  number  of  ens-ravings  which 
would  show  the  boys  how  to  dress.  I  suppose  there  will 
be  lots  of  them  here  with  wigs  or  powdered  hair,  so  you 
need  not  be  so  proud  of  your  white  locks,"  and  she  plav- 
fully  reached  up  and  lightly  brushed  the  old  man's  hair. 
"  And  as  for  the  girls,  we'll  see,  and  you'll  not  have  long 
to  wait  now,  grandpapa,  for  just  hear  the  gong  go  bang, 
bang  every  second.  Why,  they  are  arriving  in  perfect 
troops!  Where's  my  parrot.  Now  I'm  ready."  But 
Marion's  bubbling  words  suddenly  ceased,  and  she  stood 
a  veritable  Mistress  Dorothy  Q  as  she  received  General 
George  Washington  and  the  State  of  Virginia. 

It  was  as  Marion  stated.  The  boys  and  girls  had  come 
in  troops,  and  within  a  short  half-hour  the  big  parlors 
were  pleasantly  filled.  And  as  grandpapa's  old  eyes 
wandered  over  til*  merry  faces,  he  smiled  with  a  joy 
which  was  pi-oud. 

The  costumes  worn  by  the  various  States  proved  that 
the  girls  were  equal  to  the  occasion. 

Virginia  wore  a  gold-spangled  white  crepe  lisse  over 
white  silk,  gold -colored  silk  stockings,  white  satin  slip- 
pers with  gold  buckles.  From  her  arm  was  suspended  a 
pretty  tobacco  pouch,  and  confining  her  long  wavy 
golden  hair  was  a  wreath  of  wheat,  thus  showing  that 
Virginia  was  rich  in  flour  and  tobacco,  and  could  lay  a 
claim  to  gold  also. 

Little  Delaware,  who  was  a  dark-eyed  brunette,  wore  a 
frock  of  pink  Italian  crepe,  with  kid  slippers  and  gloves 


FEBRUARY  12,  1895 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


261 


to  match,  arid  carried  a  small   ornamental  basket  filled 
with  delicious-looking  peaches. 

California  came  in  a  brilliant,  showy  toilette  of  gold 
tulle,  shimmering  with  spangles,  over  gold-colored  silk; 
stockings,  slippers,  gloves  were  all  of  the  same  rich  color. 
Around  h&r  neck  was  a  heavy  gold  chain,  around   each 
arm    and  wrist  were  heavy  gold  bracelets, 
around  her  waist  was  a  golden  girdle,  while 
her  hair  was  kept  in  place  with  three  nar- 
row golden  bands. 

And  thus  each  State  told  its  own  story, 
and  one  could  not  often  look  on  as  beautiful 
a  sight  as  the  United  States  presented,  per- 
sonated as  they  were  by  charming,  laugh- 
ing girls,  costumed  in  fashionable  frocks, 
and  made  from  material  as  diverse  in  color 
as  are  the  tints  of  the 
rainbow. 

To  please  grandpapa, 
who  was  glad  of  the 
revival  of  old-fashion- 
ed dances,  the  party 
opened  with  the  cotil- 
lion. Dorothy  Q  led, 
dancing  with  George 
Washington.  The  fa- 
vors were  tiny  trees 
and  hatchets,  for  of 
course  the  old  hatchet 
story,  whether  tradi- 
tional or  true,  must  be 
kept  alive.  Besides, 
these  favors  being  tied 
with  baby  -  width  red, 
white,  or  blue  satin 
ribbon,  were  later 
matched,  to  decide  the 
partners  for  supper. 
The  blues  went  down 
together,  and  so  on. 

After  the 

dance,  the  game 
Acting  Proverbs 
was  played.  This 
was  done  by  one 
of  the  compa- 
ny leaving  the 
room,  and  on  his 
return  acting  in 
such  a  manner 
as  to  indicate  to 

the  others  a  well-known  proverb.  Example,  "A  roll- 
ing stone  gathers  no  moss,"  was  shown  by  the  one  hav- 
ing left  the  room  returning  with  a  round  stone  in  his 
hand,  and  rolling  it  over  the  floor.  When  they  grew 
tired  of  this  game  they  played  another,  which  was  alto- 
gether different,  called  The  Florist.  The  boy  who  took 
the  character  of  florist  explained  that  he  had  flowers  for 
sale,  and  that  he  would  try  to  sell  all  that  he  had  by  put- 
ting a  question  to  any  person  whom  he  thought  would 
buy,  and  that  whoever  in  answering  his  question  used 
the  words  flowers,  yes,  or  no,  would  have  to  pay  a  forfeit, 
and  that  he  would  try  all  that  lie  could  to  get  them  to 
use  one  of  the  prohibited  words.  Then  turning  to  one 
of  the  players,  he  asked,  ''  Can  I  sell  you  any  fresh  flow- 
ers to-day?" 

"The  house  has  been  fully  supplied. 

And    addressing    another,   "Do    buy 
lets." 

"  Not  to-day,  sir." 

"How  about  carnations?" 

"I  don't  wish  flowers  of  any  kind." 

And  in  that  way  a  forfeit  was  incurred. 


THE    PARTY    OPENED    WITH    THIS    OLD-FASHIONED 
COTILLION. 


The  questions  should  be  rapidly  asked,  and  as  rapidly 
answered,  or  the  players  will  not  get  caught.      When  a 
few  forfeits  have  been  paid  they  must  then  be  redeemed. 
One  penalty  might  be  to  repeat  quickly,  four  times  with- 
out an  error,  these  words,  "A  lump  of  rich,  rough,  light, 
red  leather,  a  red,  light,  rough,  rich  leather  lump."     An- 
other: stand  in   the  cen- 
tre   of    the     room,  and 
without    smiling    count 
ten     backwards,    courte- 
sying      between        each 
count;  and  still  another, 
make  a  boat  by  folding 
a  piece  of  paper. 

When  the  forfeits 
were  redeemed  the  mu- 
sicians played  the  Wash- 
ington Two-step,  and 
soon  all  the  little  feet 
were  in  the  very  poetry 
of  motion.  At  its  close 
a  march  was  played, 
and  Dorothy  Q  and 
George  Washington  led 
the  way  to  supper. 

The  dining  -  room 
seemed,  if  possible,  more 
imbued  with  the  spirit 
of  patriotism  than  the 
rest  of  the  house.  Con- 
spicuous in  the  decora- 
tions was  a  large  silk 

American  flag  and  a  big  bald-headed  eagle, 
and  snapper  mottoes,  red,  white,  and  blue, 
nearly  hid  the  table. 

The  supper  was  rich  in  variety  and  quail 
tity.  having  the  usual  supply  of  salads,  ices, 
cake,  and  confections;  the  only  odd  thing 
about  it  was  a  course  of  mulled  cider  and 
crullers  that  grandpapa  had  insisted  should 
be  part  of  the  feast,  and  that  Washington's 
birthday  would  not  be  properly  celebrated 
without. 

After  supper  there  was  a  great  deal  of 
dancing,  in  which  grandpapa  insisted  on 
taking  his  part.  All  the  dances  were,  of 
course,  national  as  far  as  possible.  The  Vir- 
ginia Reels,  for  example,  were  danced  to  the 
tune  of  Yankee  Doodle,  and  altogether  the 
party  was  one  of  the  most  original  and 
pleasant  entertainments  that  either  grand- 
papa or  the  young  people  had  ever  seen.  Then  came  the 
good-byes,  with  the  usual  thanks  for  a  happy  time,  which 
in  this  case  they  all  declared  had  been  the  merriest  this 
winter. 


"THE     'SCUTNEY     MAIL." 

THE    STORY    OF    A   YOUNG    PEOPLE'S  NEWSPAPER 
VENTURE. 

BY    SOPHIE    SVVETT. 


Thank  you." 
my    sweet    vio- 


n^HE  old  tool-house  was  painted,  after  all,  before  it  was 
_L  thought  fit  to  serve  as  the  publishing  house  and  edi- 
torial sanctum  of  The  'Sciitney  Mail.  Macurdy  Green,  like 
Mrs.  John  Gil  pin,  might  have  a  prudent  mind,  but  the  liter- 
ary editor  of  the  Mail,  Miss  Luella  Pickering,  wanted  "to 
have  things  look  nice."  Old  Uncle  Sol  Ramsdell,  who 
was  devoted  to  newspapers,  offered  to  do  the  painting 
without  other  pay  than  an  occasional  copy  of  the  Ma/I, 
and  Tom,  who  had" an  inexperienced  belief  in  the  "stretch- 


262 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


ability"   of   twenty- five  dollars,  joyfully  purchased  the 
paint. 

It  looked  very  smart  and  shining  when  it  was  done; 
but  by  the  time  the  imposing  gilt- lettered  sign  The 
'Scutney  Mail,- was  hung  over  the  door,  Tom  had  spent 
all  his  twenty-five  dollars  and  broken  open  his  "motto" 
bank,  with  the  motto,  which  had  sprung  out  the  last  time 
lie  put  money  in,  staring  him  in  the  face — "  small  begin- 
nings make  great  endings." 

Macurdy,  who  believed  in  small  beginnings,  strongly 
disapproved  of  this  recklessness,  but  he  could  only  agree 
to  Tom's  often-repeated  and  frank  assertion  that  "it 
wasn't  his  twenty-five  dollars." 

It  was  arranged  that  the  proceeds  should  be  evenly 
divided  between  the  editors  after  a  certain  percentage  on 
Tom's  money  had  been  deducted. 

The  'Scutney  tradesmen,  who  were  disposed  at  first  to 
regard  the  paper  as  boys'  play — one.  of  the  "make-be- 
lieves" of  Bobsy  Briggs's  dislike — ended  by  allowing  the 
Mail  to  print  their  advertisements  at  a  very  low  rate; 
and  a  concert  company  that  gave  an  entertainment  in 
the  Town  Hall  not  only  advertised  in  the  paper,  but  had 
its  programmes  and  circulars  printed  by  that  press. 

This  success  thrilled  Macurdy's  practical  business  soul. 
But  it  was  the  beginning  of  a  danger. 

Bing  Rawson,  who  was  Polly  Rawson's  brother,  want- 
ed to  have  his  finger  in  the  editorial  pie.  That  was 
what  Tom  told  Macurdy,  warningly,  in  the  very  begin- 
ning. Bing  Rawson  was  only  thirteen  and  a  little  fel- 
low, who  had  red  cheeks  and  baby-blue  eyes,  and  looked 
like  a  cherub;  but  it  was  the  general  verdict  that  Bing 
was  full  of  mischief.  Altbough  not  devoted  to  his  books, 
Bing  had  very  quick  perceptions  and  a  retentive  metnoi^-, 
and  was  one  of  the  few  boys  to  whom  spelling  and  gram- 
mar seemed  to  "come  natural."  And  it  was  Bing's  am- 
bition to  supplant  the  literary  editor. 

Bing  was  very  apt  to  come  gallantly  to  the  front  when 
anything  was  happening  in  'Scutney.  It  was  he  who  en- 
joyed the  proud  privilege  of  touching  off  the  cannon  at 
the  Fourth  of  July  celebration;  it  was  lie  who  had  a  com- 
plimentary ticket  to  the  circus,  and  sat  well  up  in  front, 
and  on  one  never-to-be-forgotten  occasion  rode  in  the 
chariot  will  i  the  Fat  Lady;  it  was  he  who  spoke  the  longest 
"piece"  at  school  exhibitions  and  Sunday-school  festi- 
vals, and  who  acted  the  part  of  the  page  in  the  Village 
Improvement  Society's  play. 

Bing's  great  friend  and  ally  was  Derrick  Croome,  a 
much  larger  boy  than  he,  and  inclined  to  rougher  ways 
and  more  serious  mischief.  The  Rawson  family,  from 
Grandma  Rawson  down  to  Polly,  made  a  constant  effort 
to  keep  Bing  from  associating  with  Derrick  Croome,  but 
so  far  it  had  been  unsuccessful. 

When  the  printing'business  began,  Bing  thought  that 
the  least  they  could  do  would  be  to  let  him  help  at  that; 
when  that  privilege  was  denied  him — although  his  sister 
Polly  was  the  intimate  friend  of  the  literary  editor,  and 
expected  to  have  her  story,  "The  Enchanted  Pumpkin 
Seed,"  printed  in  the  paper — he  demanded  to  be  allowed 
to  distribute  the  concert  circulars  and  programmes,  work 
for  which  the  contract  had  been  taken  by  the  printers. 
And  Derrick  Croome  enforced  the  demand  by  threatening 
to  "punch  their  heads  "  and  knock  their  partly  set  up 
paper  into  "  pi."  (Derrick's  father  had  been  a  printer  in 
the  city  where  they  came  from.)  And  another  and  even 
worse  threat  Derrick  Croome  (who  was  Mrs.  Bigsby's 
nephew)  added  to  these  terrifying  ones: 

"I'll  tell  my  aunt  what  you  keep  in  the  old  granary, 
you  and  that  foolish  fellow.  She's  going  to  put  her  foot 
down  on  that  granary  business,  anyhow,  and  on  the 
paper  too,  if  I  tell  her  what  I'm  going  to,  if  Bing  don't  get 
his  rights." 

Macurdy  calmly  shut  the  door  in  the  face  of  the  enemy. 
It  was  not  that  the  last  direful  threat  did  not  move  him; 


on  many  a  cherished  hope  and  plan  of  his  had  Mrs. 
Bigsby  put  down  her  foot.  If  any  threat  could  make  him 
flinch, it  was  that  one,  of  turning  Mrs.  Bigsby's  attention 
afresh  to  his  occupancy  of  the  old  granary.  But  Macurdy 
was  not  of  the  flinching  kind;  and  that  was  all  there  was 
about  it. 

"They're  an  awful  pair,"  said  Tom,  dejectedly.  "  Bing 
•isn't  so  bad,  and  he  wouldn't  dare  to  do  much,  but  with 
Derrick  Croome  to  back  him — 

Tom  shook  his  head  dismally.  It  was  a  dismal-look- 
ing head,  for  mumps  had  developed  on  both  sides  at  once, 
and  Tom  was  not  in  a  state  to  take  cheerful  views  of 
things. 

"I  guess  we  sha'n't  be  bullied  into  giving  any  fellow  a 
job,''  said  Macurdy,  busily  setting  type.  This  was  the 
third  issue  of  the  paper,  and  Jim's  story  of  the  Queen  of 
Sheba  was  to  appear,  and  Macurdy  was  especially  anxious 
that  there  should  be  no  mistakes  in  that.  "Besides,  we 
promised  the  job  to  little  Tim  Golden,  who  wants  to  buy 
shoes  for  the  twins.  When  a  boy  has  to  help  his  mother 
that's  a  widow —  Those  threats  won't  come  to  anything, 
you'll  see,"  added  Macurdy,  as  he  worked  away. 

And  perhaps  the  threats  might  not  have  amounted  to 
anything  if  something  had  not  happened  to  increase 
Derrick  Croome's  wrath  against  the  editors  and  the  pro- 
prietor of  The  'Scutney  Mail.  It  happened  that  very  day, 
after  Bing  Rawson  and  Derrick  had  walked  slowly  away, 
engaged  in  low  and  confidential  conversation,  that  little 
Lizzie  Magill,  who  lived  with  her  old  grandmother  and 
her  lame  brother  Patsy  in  a  lane  by  the  river,  came 
running  in,  tearful  and  breathless,  to  beg  that  "a  piece" 
about  Derrick  Croome's  dog  might  be  put  into  the  paper. 
"We're  thet  in  drid  of  him  that  we  hardly  dares  to 
stir  out  of  the  house,"  said  Lizzie.  "Me  grandmother 
is  afther  bavin'  her  petticoats  torn,  and  she  bringiu'  home 
the  washin',  and  little  Patsy  does  be  that  frightened  since 
lie  was  bit  by  him,  that  we  can't  get  him  to  go  to  school 
at  all,  at  all.  And  the  fairther  himself  bein'  S'lectman, 
and  own  in'  the  bit  uv  a  place  over  our  heads,  what  can  the 
loikes  of  us  do  at  all?  And  so  will  ye  put  the  rashkill  of 
a  dog,  and  the  big  bad  boy  Derrick  Croome  that  owns  him, 
in  your  paper,  and  niver  let  on  I  asked  you,  and  I'll 
thank  ye  kindly,  and  so  will  manny  more  besides!" 

Macurdy  looked  more  and  more  troubled  as  he  listened 
to  Lizzie's  recital  of  her  grievances,  and  Tom's  mumpy 
face  grew  dismally  long. 

"You — you  run  along  now,  Lizzie,  and  we'll  see  what 
we  can  do,"  said  Macurdy.  "It — it's  a  pretty  serious 
matter."  And  Lizzie  went  reluctantly  out,  reiterating 
the  woful  tale  of  the  grandmother's  petticoats  and 
Patsy's  enforced  absence  from  school. 

"I  guess  it  would  be  a  serious  matter  to  meddle  with 
Derrick  Croome  just  now,"  said  Tom. 

"  Look  here,  now,  Tom  !"  Macurdy  mounted  the  high 
stool  in  the  composing-room,  and  thrust  his  hands  deep 
into  his  pockets.  "  This  is  a  square  issue.  I've  talked  a 
good  deal  about  making  this  paper  pay,  but  I've  thought, 
too,  about  having  it  take  a  right  stand  about  things.  Of 
course  we  don't  want  to  meddle  with  politics,  and  things 
that  are  too  big  for  us,  but  when  anything  disturbs  the 
peace  and  comfort  of  the  town,  like  that  vicious  dog  of 
Derrick  Croome's,  I  think  it  belongs  to  the  press  to  say 
something  about  it.  Of  course  we  don't  want  to  tackle 
Derrick  Croorne." 

"  Well,  I  rather  think  we  don't!"  said  Tom,  hastily  and 
heartily. 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  have  anything  to  do  with  a  paper 
that's  afraid  to  take  the  right  stand  when  the  community 
needs  its  influence !"  said  Macurdy. 

Tom  felt  a  great  admiration  for  Macurdy's  flow  of 
language,  and  he  wished  that  he  had  listened  more  atten- 
tively to  the  minister  and  the  Fourth  of  July  orators,  but 
he  wasn't  inclined  to  risk  cuite  so  much  for  principle  as 


FEBRUARY  12,  1895. 


HAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


263 


Macurdy  was.  But  he  came  around  to  Macurdy's  views 
at  length,  the  usual  result  of  Macurdy's  eloquence  or  of 
his  stronger  spirit,  and  Macurdy  wrote  "a  piece,"  setting 
forth  the  danger  and  distress  occasioned  by  a  vicious  dog, 
and  although  he  called  no  names,  making  it  perfectly 
evident  that  it  was  Derrick  Croome's  clog  that  he  meant. 
The  "  piece  ''  was  written  and  set  up  that  very  afternoon, 
and  Derrick  Croome  read  it  the  next  day  but  one. 

And  the  next  week  something  happened.  The  mumps 
had  gone  hard  with  Tom,  and  he  was  convalescing  slowly, 
and  Macurdy  had  unfortunately  had  an  unusual  num- 
ber of  hard  "stents,"  and  they  had  both  been  obliged  to 
work  witli  might  and  main  at  odd  moments  to  get  started 
on  this  week's  paper;  and  they  were  not  a  little  anxious 
as  to  whether  they  should  get  it  all  set  up  in  time. 
There  had  been  prophecies  that  that  paper  would  soon 
fail  to  appear,  having  only  boys  to  manage  it,  and  both 
Macurdy  and  Tom  felt  that  to  have  those  prophecies  ful- 
filled would  be  an  unendurable  disgrace. 

So  it  happened  that  after  a  hard  and  anxious  and  fever- 
ish day — he  had  been  obliged  to  work  on  the  sly,  because 
it  was  not  thought  proper  that  a  boy  too  ill  to  go  to  school 
should  be  occupied  in  printing  a  newspaper — Tom  was 
sound  asleep  at  eleven  o'clock  at  night,  and  entirely 
oblivions  of  stealthy  noises  about  the  publishing  house. 

Luella,  too,  who,  with  editorial  work  and  music  and  a 
church  fair,  found  quite  enough  to  occupy  her  out  of 
school  hours,  was  tired  enough  to  sleep  well,  and  to  hear 
nothing  of  the  marauders  who  were  ruthlessly  fulfilling 
Derrick  Croome's  threat  of  knocking  the  precious  forms 
of  The  'Scutney  Mail  into  "  pi." 

But  Polly  Rawson,  a  little  way  further  down  the  street, 
had  been  having  a  bad  dream.  Polly  meant  lobe  a  good 
sister,  and  Bing  often  lay  heavily  on  her  mind,  and  she 
dreamed  that  Bing  had  turned  into  a  flapjack  (that  was 
Grandma  Rawson's  name  for  griddle-cakes),  and  when 
she  tried  to  turn  him  on  the  griddle  he  went  flopping 
into  the  fire.  Polly  awoke  with  a  start,  fairly  jumping 
up  in  bed,  and  for  a  moment  it  seemed  as  if  the  dream 
really  must  be  true.  Polly  had  a  very  vivid  imagina- 
tion, as  you  would  know  if  you  could  read  "The  Enchant- 
ed Pumpkin  Seed." 

Presently  she  heard  a  very  queer  noise  directly  under 
her  window — a  noise  of  footsteps  and  light  wheels  and  a 
queer  little  rattle  mingled  with  it.  Polly  sprang  out  of 
bed  and  hurried  to  ihe  window.  There  were  two  figures 
— Bing's  small  and  slender  one  and  great  hulking  Der- 
rick Croome's — and  Bing's  hand-cart  piled  full  of  some- 
thing that  rattled  as  the  boys  drew  the  hand-cart  cautious- 
ly along. 

Polly  had  heard  from  her  friend,  the  literary  editor,  of 
Derrick  Croome's  threat,  and  she  saw  instantly  that  it 
was  being  put  into  execution.  Not  only  had  the  printing 
been  knocked  into  pi,  but  they  had  stolen  and  were  carry- 
ing away  the  type,  and  probably  the  press  itself,  for  some- 
thing loomed  large  and  black  in  the  semi-darkness — the 
full  moon  was  just  then  covered  with  light  clouds — and 
they  evidently  had  a  heavy  load. 

Something  startled  the  boys,  and  they  began  to  run. 
Polly  checked  her  first  impulse  to  call  after  them,  to 
arouse  the  house.  That  course  would  involve  so  much 
delay.  And  this  was  more  serious  mischief  than  Bing 
often  indulged  in;  it  would  certainly  cause  his  busy  arid 
long-suffering  father  to  fulfil  his  threat  of  sending  him 
away  to  school,  and  Polly  did  not  think  that  a  large  school, 
where  he  would  have  no  sister  to  look  after  him,  was  the 
place  for  Bing. 

These  thoughts  were  swift  ones;  Polly  was  dressing 
herself  .while  they  flashed  through  her  mind.  She  stole 
softly  down  stairs,  slipped  on  a  warm  jacket  and  cap,  got 
out  her  bicycle  as  noiselessly  as  possible,  mounted  it,  and 
was  off  in  pursuit  of  the  thieves. 

What  were  they  going  to  do  with  their  spoils?     If  it 


IT    WAS    HE    WHO    ROPE    IN    THE    CHARIOT    WITH    THE    FAT    LADY. 

were  only  a  little  lighter  so  that  she  could  see  them  far 
ahead  !  The  January  thaw  had  extended  into  February, 
and  the  ground  was  so  slightly  frozen  that  tire  cart  wheels 
made  but  little  noise;  yet,  straining  her  ears  when  she 
came  to  a  turn  in  the  road  which  made  her  uncertain 
which  way  to  go,  Polly  detected  the  distant  rumble  and 
rattle  of  the  hand -cart.  The  poor-house  pond!  They 
meant  to  throw  the  contents  of  the  hand-cart  into  the 
pond  !  Polly's  heart  sank  as  this  suspicion  grew  into  cer- 
tainty, for  by  the  light  of  the  moon,  which  had  emerged 
from  the  clouds,  she  saw  that  the  cart  had  turned  into  the 
lane  by  the  poor-house  which  led  to  the  pond — a  small 
sheet  of  water,  but  so  deep  that  there  had  always  been  a 
village  tradition  that  it  had  no  bottom. 

If  the  boys  had  meant  to  secrete  the  press  or  the  type, 
returning  it  after  a  while,  it  would  have  seemed  more 
like  merely  boyish  mischief;  but  to  destroy  it  was  a  depth 
of  wickedness  into  which  she  would  scarcely  have  believed 
that  Bing  could  be  enticed. 

A  feeble  and  flickering  light  burned  in  an  upper  win- 
dow of  the  poor-house  as  Polly,  not  having  decided  upon 
any  plan  of  action,  but  afraid  to  hesitate,  turned  into  the 
lane.  The  light  disappeared  as  she  rode,  swiftly  and  as 
softly  as  possible,  down  the  lane,  and  suddenly  reap- 
peared at  the  open  door  of  the  poor-house.  It  was  a  can- 
dle held  above  Jim's  tall  yellow  head.  Jim  extinguished 
it  suddenly,  and  ran  towards  the  pond.  He  turned  at 
the  sound  of  Polly's  wheel,  and  shrank  back  in  evident 
alarm  as  she  drew  near. 

"Jim!  Jim!  don't  be  afraid."  she  said,  softly.  "I'm 
trying  to  stop  some  mischief,  and  you  must  help  me!" 

"You — you're  agirl  on  a  bicycle,  aren't  you?"  said  Jim, 
slowly,  with  an  accent  of  relief.  "You  looked  like  a 
witch,  growing  bigger  and  bigger  in  the  moonlight. 
Yes,  I  know  there's  mischief;  those  boys  that  went  along 
with  a  hand-cart  are  Derrick  Croome  and  Bing  Rawsou." 

A  heavy  splash  came  to  their  ears,  and  Polly  cried  out, 


264 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


GETTING    OUT    AN    EDITION    OF    "THE    'SCUTNEY    MAIL. 


frantically,  as  she  slipped  from  her  bicycle  beside  the 
boys  at  the  water's  edge:  "  Bing,  don't  you  dare  to  de- 
stroy property  like  that!  I'll  ring  my  bicycle  bell  and 
arouse  every  one  'in  the  poor-house,  and  have  you  ar- 
rested." 

"  We — we  didn't  throw  any  thing  overboard  but  a  rock," 
stammered  Bing,  startled  out  of  his  accustomed  audacity 
by  the  sudden  appearance  of  his  sister. 

"You  did  it  to  see  how  deep  the  water  was!  You 
meant  to  throw  the  press  into  the  water,"  said  Polly,  ac- 
cusingly. 

Jim  seized  the  handle  of  the  cart  from  Derrick  Croome. 
"They're  Macurdy's  things,  and  I'm  going  to  take  care  of 
them,"  he  said,  as  if  it  were  a  matter  of  course. 

Derrick  loosed  Jim's  hold   with   a  jerk  and  a  rough 


mother.  Perhaps  Derrick  Croome  had 
some  misgivings,  or  the  cart  was  heavy 
to  tip, and  in  the  moment's  pause  Ihe 
poor-house  door  opened,  and  a  tall  figure 
came  hurrying  out. 

"Here's  Mr.  Peters  with  his  gun!" 
cried  Polly. 

Sing's  small  person  instantly  disap- 
peared from  sight  behind  a  tree,  and  Der- 
rick Croome— well,  what  could  you  ex- 
pect? a  bad  boy  like  him  is  almost  always 
a  coward  —  Derrick  Croome  ran  away, 
behind  the  trees  that  bordered  the  pond, 
over  the  stone  wall,  and  across  the  pas- 
ture. 

And  after  all  it  was  only  Caddy  For- 
sythe  who  had  come  out  of  the  poor- 
house  door  —  Caddy  Forsythe  with  her 
broom;  she  was  a  poor  insane  woman, 
whose  husband  and  sons  had  been  lost 
at  sea,  and  she  swept  and  swept  with  a 
broom  to  sweep  away  trouble.  She  was 
harmless,  and  wandered  about  at  her  own 
will  day  and  night.  She  wandered  off 
to  the  b;irn.  sweeping  diligently  all  the 
way,  and  without  seeing  the  group  by  the 
pond. 

For   once,  thought  Polly,  poor  Caddy 
Forsythe's  broom  had  swept  away  trouble. 
Bing  emerged  from  his  retirement. 
"  Derrick  Croome's  a  coward!"  he  said, 
wrathfully.      "I  wouldn't  have  run  away 
and  left  him  like  that!" 

Polly  was  helping  Jim  to  wipe  theblood 
from  his  face. 

"We  can  take  the  cart  back  without 
any  of  his  help,"  she  said,  resolved  to 
strike  while  the  iron  was  hot.  "And 
though  you've  spoiled  the  paper  for  this 
week,  perhaps  what  you  meant  to  do  need 
never  be  known — unless  you  want  to 
confess  it,  and  do  all  you  can  to  make  up 
for  it." 

"I  guess  not  much!"  responded  Bing, 
gruffly,  but    with    a   little  uneasy  laugh. 
"They  put  in  a  piece  about  Derrick's  dog,  and  they  were 
sarsy,  and  wouldn't  give  me  a  job." 

"This  was  a  noble,  a  manly  revenge,  wasn't  it?  Oh, 
Bing  Eawson!"  began  Polly,  hotly.  But  she  checked 
herself.  One  must  manage  Bing.  Being  a  sister  was 
not  easy.  "I  will  leave  my  bicycle.  Jim  will  take 
care  of  it  and  help  push  the  cart,"  she  said. 

But  Jim  declared  that  he  was  not  hurt,  and  he  would 
help  push  the  cart.  They  were  Macurdy's  things  ;  he 
wanted  to  take  care  of  them.  Oh  no,  he  would  not  be 
missed,  he  said,  in  answer  to  Polly's  question.  He  had 
been  sitting  up  writing  the  "piece"  about  Sarah  Loud 
for  the  Mail  when  he  heard  the  noise  of  the  cart  in  the 
lane. 

"  You  can't  help  much,  you're  only  a  girl,"  growled 


push,  and  Jim  fell  heavily,  striking'  his  head  against  the     Bing,  glad  of  a  chance  to  emphasize  any  point  of  su peri- 
cart  wheel;  he  arose  to  his  feet  staggering,  and  a  trickle     ority  to  Polly,  who  thought  herself  so  superior. 

So  the  little  midnight  procession  started  hurriedly,  for 
Caddy  Forsy  the  •  had  come  out  of  the  barn,  still  sweep- 
ing busily,  and  she  was  coming  towards  them  as  if  she 
thought  them  something  to  be  swept  away. 

Polly,  going  ahead  on  her  bicycle,  saw  in  the  bright 
moonlight,  as  she  turned  out  of  the  lane,  a  wreath  of 
smoke  curling  upward  behind  Farmer  Bigsby's  house — 
a  curling  smoke  and  a  swiftly  leaping  flame. 

"The  old  granary,  Bing!  Derrick  Croome  has  set  Ihe 
old  granary  on  fire!"  she  cried. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


of  blood  was  plainly  visible  upon  his  cheek  in  the  moon- 
light, 

"I — I  didn't  mean  to  hurt  him,"  stammered  Derrick, 
evidently  a  little  frightened.  "  But  I  ain't  going  to  have 
a  girl  or  a  foolish  fellow  interfering  with  me!"  Derrick 
moved  the  cart  towards  the  edge  of  the  pond,  and  prepared 
to  tip  its  contents  into  the  water. 

Polly  uttered  a  half-smothered  cry  and  put  her  hand 
on  her  bell.  It  had  a  sharp  ring,  that  little  bell,  and 
would  arouse  every  one  in  the  poor-house,  and  it  would 
bring  disgrace  upon  Bing,  trouble  upon  his  father  and 


AFLOAT   WITH  THE   FLAG. 


BY    W.   T.   HENDERSON. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 
AN     ANXIOUS     VIGIL. 

IN  an  agony  of  fear  and  grief  Harold  and  George  bent 
over  their  classmate,  and  sought  to  ascertain  the  nature 
of  his  injury. 

"  Ob,  Frank!"  exclaimed  George;  "can't  you  speak?" 

"He's  unconscious,"  said  Harold.  "  He  ought  to  be 
removed  to  the  sick- bay.  ' 

"These  fellows  don't  seem  to  know  what  to  do,''  said 
George,  impatiently. 

"  I  wish  Bennos  were  here,"  Harold  said. 

One  of  the  sailors  seemed  to  catch  the  boy's  meaning. 
"  Bennos,"  he  ejaculated.  "  Si,  si,  Bennos." 

The  man  hastened  away.  At  the  same  moment  the 
firing  ceased.  The  Aquidaban  had  passed  out  of  accu- 
rate range  of  the  forts,  and  was  opposite  the  city.  The 
bugles  sounded  the  order  to  secure,  and  presently  the 
guns  were  put  to  rest  for  the  night.  Bennos  came  run- 
ning along  the  deck,  while  the  bugles  were  still  sounding. 

"Oh,  amigo  mio!"  he  cried,  sorrowfully,  as  he  saw 
Frank's  unconscious  form. 

He  speedily  gave  orders  for  the  removal  of  the  boy  to 
the  sick-bay.  He  was  evidently  indignant  that  so  many 
precious  minutes  had  been  wasted. 

"  Perhaps  he'll  bleed  to  death;  no  one  will  care,"  said 
the  young  Brazilian,  angrily. 

A  stretcher  was  brought,  and  Frank  was  placed  on  it. 
Two  stalwart  seamen  carried  him  to  the  sick-bay,  where 
the  ship's  surgeon  at  once  began  to  undress  him  prepara- 
tory to  making  an  examination.  Harold  and  George 
stood  outside  the  door  of  the  room  in  feverish  anxiety. 
They  turned  their  heads  at  the  sound  of  heavy  footsteps, 
and  saw  Captain  Lockwood,  Bob,  and  Minnie  coining 


toward  them.  The  boys  grew  a  shade  paler,  and  looked 
atone  another  anxiously. 

"  What  shall  we  say  to  him?"  asked  Harold. 

"  Or  to  her,"  said  George. 

The  Captain  approached  with  a  smile,  and  said: 
"Thought  you'd  get  down  out  of  the  line  of  fire,  too?" 
Well,  that  shows  your  good  sense.  You'd  be  mighty 
stupid  to  take  chances  of  getting  hurt  in  a  quarrel  that 
don't  concern  you." 

"Oh,  the  firing's  all  over  now, "said  George,  with  an 
attempt  to  be  cheerful.  "  Eobert  ought  to  keep  out  of 
sight,  sir." 

"Oh,  this  deck's  about  deserted.  Well,  for  my  part, 
I'm  glad  the  firing's  done.  Aren't  you,  Minnie?" 

"  Oh  yes,  father;  I  think  it's  terrible,  and  I  can't  help 
fancying  I  see  some  poor  fellow  torn  by  shot.'' 

"  Not  so  very  much  danger  of  that  in  a  ship  of  this 
sort,  is  there,  boys?" 

"  No,  not  so  much  as  in  a  wooden  ship,"  said  George. 

"  Still,"  said  Harold,  gravely,  "  men  do  get  hurt  some- 
times in  the  most  powerful  battle-ships." 

"  I  hope  no  one  has  been  hurt  on  this  ship,"  said  Min- 
nie, with  apprehensive  eyes. 

The  boys  were  silent. 

"  Some  one  has  been  hurt,"  said  the  Captain. 

"  I  was  sure  of  it  from  the  way  you  talked,''  said 
Minnie. 

A  faint  moan  was  heard  coming  from  the  room  behind 
the  boys. 

"  What's  that?"  asked  the  Captain,  starting. 

"What  place  is  this?"  inquired  Minnie. 

"This  is  the  sick-bay,"  said  Harold. 

"  That's  the  ship's  hospital,"  explained  Captain  Lock- 
wood.  "  But  why  do  you  stand  in  front  of  the  door?" 


"YOU'VE    BEEN    RECOGNIZED,"  SAID    HAL.      "PULL,    LADS,    PULL.' 


266 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


"We  are  waiting  to  know  whether  our  friend  is  badly 
wounded,"  said  Harold,  in  a  trembling  voice. 

"Your  friend?  Why,  say,  it's  not  that  nice  young 
Brazilian  officer,  is  it?" 

Again  the  boys  were  silent. 

"Oli,  father!"  cried  Minnie,  "  they  don't  dare  to  tell 
us;  it's  Frank !" 

The  stout  old  merchant  Captain  staggered  as  if  he  had 
received  a  heavy  blow. 

"  Don't  tell  me  it's  the  boy,"  he  said. 

Harold  grasped  the  honest  mariner's  hand.  "  I  wish  to 
Heaven  I  could  tell  you  it  was  not,"  he  said. 

For  a  few  moments  the  Captain  was  speechless,  while 
Minnie  cried  quietly. 

"Are  the  doctors  working  over  him  in  there?"  Robert 
finally  asked. 

"Yes,"  said  George;  "and  Bennos  is  helping  them. 
We  could  do  nothing  because  we  don't  understand  the 
language." 

"  How  did  it  happen?"  asked  the  Captain. 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Harold,  "  Frank  was  not  pleased 
with  the  marksmanship  of  his  gun-captain,  so  he  thought 
he  would  take  a  shot  himself.  He  sighted  the  gun  very 
carefully  and  fired.  Almost  at  the  same  instant  a  small 
shell  from  the  shore  came  whizzing  through  the  port  and 
burst  on  the  side  of  the  gun-carriage.  It  must  have 
struck  the  forward  end  of  the  carriage.  I  think,  and  that's 
what  makes  me  hope  that  Frank  isn't  badly  hurt.  The 
bulk  of  the  carriage  and  the  breech  of  the  gun  must  have 
been  between  him  and  the  explosion;  so  I  think  he  was 
struck  by  a  small  fragment.  Anyhow,  when  the  smoke 
cleared  away  we  saw  him  lying  on  the  deck." 

"  Unconscious?" 

"  Yes,  sir;  I  must  say  that  he  was." 

"  How  long  lias  he  been  in  the  sick-bay?"  asked  Robert. 

"About  ten  minutes." 

"Then  surely  they  ought  to  be  able  to  give  us  some 
news  of  his  condition?"  said  the  Captain. 

Just  then  Bennos  opened  the  door  of  the  sick-bay  wide 
enough  to  speak  to  the  boys. 

"The  doctor  can't  tell  yet.  He  must  examine  a  little 
more,"  he  said. 

Bennos  retired  into  the  sick-bay,  and  the  four  watchers 
resumed  their  anxious  vigil.  The  minutes  were  hours 
long  to  them.  The  Captain  paced  up  and  down  with  his 
hands  behind  his  back  and  his  head  bowed.  He  looked 
as  if  he  were  in  deep  thought,  but  ever  and  anon  a  heavy 
sigh  told  that  his  heart  was  full  of  grief.  The  girl  stood 
watching  him  and  occasionally  wiping  away  her  tears, 
which  flowed  freely.  George  shifted  about  restlessly, 
but  Harold  stood  like  a  statue,  with  clinched  lips  and 
strained  eyes.  Presently  the  door  swung  open,  and  Ben- 
nos appeared  once  more.  The  four  watchers  turned 
eagerly,  and  George  said, 

"What's  the  verdict?" 

"I  am  glad,"  said  Bennos,  speaking  rapidly.  "He  is 
not  badly  hurt.  The  most  trouble  is  the  shock  and  the 
loss  of  blood.  He  will  get  well  surely,  but  slowly." 

''  Thank  Heaven  !"  exclaimed  the  Captain,  fervently. 

CHAPTER     XXX. 
PLACED   UNDER   ARREST. 

THE  night  was  a  long  and  weary  one  for  Captain  Lock- 
wood,  his  daughter,  and  the  two  boys.  Bennos  offered  to 
give  up  his  state-room  to  Minnie,  but  she  naturally  de- 
clined to  pass  the  night  separated  from  her  father. 
Through  the  kind  offices  of  the  young  Brazilian  they 
were  provided  with  cushions  and  blankets,  and  permitted 
to  sleep  on  the  locker  in  the  mess-room.  The  two  boys 
and  Robert  were  given  hammocks  and  allowed  to  swing 
them  .in  a  roomy  corner.*  As  they  overhauled  the  clews 
and  cast  off  the  lashings  George  said,  with  a  faint  smile: 


"Hal,  this  takes  me  back  to  Constellation  days.  I 
shouldn't  be  surprised  if  we  were  turned  out  in  the  night 
to  reef  topsails." 

"  I  wish  there  were  no  possibility  of  our  being  turned 
out  for  anything  more  serious,"  said  Harold. 

"  But  you  are  not  alarmed  about  Frank  now,  are  you?" 

"  I  hardly  know  what  to  think,"  said  Hal.  "  I  wish 
he  was  in  the  hands  of  our  own  surgeon.'' 

"Then  you  haven't  confidence  in  these  fellows 
here?" 

"Not  of  the  most  perfect  kind." 

"Well,"  said  George,  thoughtfully,  "they  must  know 
their  business.  It's  likely  that  the  best  surgeons  in  the 
service  are  aboard  this  ship." 

Harold  lay  awake  for  a  long  time  considering  what 
was  to  be  done  in  the  morning.  He  was  unable  to  solve 
the  problem,  especially  as  he  and  his  two  companions 
had  to  be  aboard  the  Detroit  again  before  ten  o'clock. 
At  length,  worn  out  by  the  events  of  the  day,  he  fell 
asleep  and  slept  soundly  till  reveille.  Immediately  after 
breakfast  he  went  to  Bennos  and  informed  him  of  the 
necessity  of  returning  to  the  Detroit.  Captain  Lock- 
wood,  who  was  now  at  Frank's  side,  was  sent  for. 

"  I'll  stay  here  for  the  present,"  said  the  old  mariner. 
"  You  boys  and  Mr.  Ball  get  Bob  aboard  the  Alma,  if  it's 
possible,  and  then  Mr.  Ball  can  send  the  boat  back  for  me 
later  in  the  day." 

"  I  don't  know  just  how  to  manage  about  Bob,"  said 
Hal. 

"Beggin'  yer  pardon  ag'in,  sir,"  said  Peter,  "an  I'd 
like  to  make  a  siggistion." 

"Go  ahead,"  said  Hal. 

"Waal,  sir,"  said  the  cockswain,  "Mr.  Robert  he  are 
took  werry  sick,  werry  sick  indeed;  an'  we  has  to  cover 
up  his  head,  sir,  fur  to  keep  the  sun  from  him,  an'  so  we 
carries  him  down  into  the  boat  an'  lays  him  along  the 
bottom,  an'  there  he  stays  till  he  are  safe." 

"Peter,"  said  Hal,  "you're  a  jewel." 

The  boys  now  applied,  through  Bennos,  for  permission 
to  leave  the  ship,  which  the  Brazilian  commander  was 
pleased  to  grant.  The  Alma's  boat  was  got  alongside  by 
Mr.  Ball,  and  the  party  prepared  to  depart. 

"Leave  me  to  do  all  the  yarnin',"  said  Peter;  "'cos 
w'y;  wot  good  are  a  sailor  wot  can't  tell  a  yarn,  egspe- 
gially  to  save  a  young  gemman?" 

Peter  covered  up  Robert's  head  and  supported  him  to 
the  deck  as  if  he  were  very  sick  indeed.  He  was  taken 
to  the  boat  and  caused  to  lie  down.  Minnie  trembled 
and  turned  pale  with  anxiety  as  the  boat  pushed  off. 
They  had  gone  safely  about  fifty  yards,  when  Robert 
raised  his  head  for  some  reason  ;  a  whiff  of  wind  blew  the 
light  covering  off  it  and  overboard.  At  the  same  instant 
a  sailor  on  the  Aquidaban's  forecastle  uttered  a  loud  cry 
and  rushed  aft,  shouting  and  pointing  at  the  boat. 

"You've  been  recognized,"  said  Hal.  "Pull,  lads, 
pull." 

"  In  the  boat  there !"  came  a  hail  from  the  Aquidaban's 
deck.  "  Cease  rowing,  or  we'll  fire." 

"Pull  hard,"  said  Harold,  between  his  set  teeth. 

Bang!  A  shell  from  a  rapid-fire  gun  struck  the  water 
not  three  feet  from  the  boat.  Minnie  shrieked. 

"Hold  on,"  said  Robert,  springing  up.  "My  sister 
mustn't  be  exposed  to  fire.  Take  me  back  and  surrender 
me." 

"  W'ich  I  reckon  that  are  about  all  we  can  do,"  said 
Peter. 

"Worse  luck  to  it,"  muttered  Mr.  Ball. 

Slowly  the  boat  returned  to  the  ship's  side. 

"Come  on  board, all  of  you,"  was  the  order. 

It  was  obeyed  in  silence.  The  Brazilian  commander 
was  standing  at  the  gangway. 

"So,  my  fine  young  American  friends,"  he  said,  "you 
are  trying  to  help  a  condemned  deserter  to  escape." 


FEBRUARY  12,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


267 


"Yes,  lie's  condemned,  but  I  dare  you  to  shoot  him," 
said  a  voice  behind  the  Brazilian. 

Turning,  the  officer  fonud  himself  confronted  by  Cap- 
tain Lockwood,  who  was  glaring  at  him  with  blazing 
eyes. 

"  Pray,  sir,  what  authority  have  you  in  this  matter?"1 
demanded  the  Brazilian. 

"Just  this,"  was  the  reply.  "I'm  the  Captain  of  the 
American  bark  Alma,  which  you  didn't  keep  away  from 
a  wharf,  and  which  your  agent  011  shore  didn't  destroy 
last  night,  and  that  young  man  is  my  son." 

The  Brazilian  Captain  stared  in  amazement.  For  sev- 
eral moments  he  hung  his  head  in  deep  thought.  Then 
he  said: 

"This  matter  must  be  placed  before  Admiral  Da  Gama. 
In  the  mean  time  your  son  must  remain  a  prisoner  here." 

"  And  my  daughter?" 

"  She  may  return  with  your  mate  to  your  ship." 

"And  what  do  you  intend  to  do  with  us?"  asked 
Harold. 

"I  shall  report  your  conduct  in  this  matter  to  your 
commanding  officer." 

"You  needn't  trouble  yourself,"  said  Harold;  "we 
shall  do  that  ourselves  the  momejit  we  reach  our  ship. 
Our  leave  expires  in  three-quarters  of  an  hour." 

"Indeed?"  said  the  Brazilian,  with  agrim  smile.  "  Well, 
you'll  stay  here  till  I  can  get  a  boat  ready  to  send  you  to 
your  sliip." 

"  Why  can't  we  go  in  Captain  Lockwood's  boat?" 
asked  George. 

"Because  it's  not  my  pleasure,"  was  the  curt  reply, 
and  the  officer  walked  away. 

"  Waal," said  Peter,  "as  my  ole  mother  remarked  when 
she  fell  into  the  bar'l  o'  vinegar,  'here's  a  pooty  pickle.'  " 

"Anyhow,"  said  Captain  Lockwood,  "Minnie  and  Mr. 
Ball  must  go  to  the  Alma." 

So  the  mate  of  the  bark  slowly  pulled  the  heavy  dingy 
away.  It  was  over  half  an  hour  later  when  a  boat  was 
reported  alongside  to  take  the  three  Americans  to  the 
Detroit. 

"The  Captain  hasn't  been  in  any  hurry  about  this," 
said  Harold. 

"He  has  intentionally  made  us  late, "  declared  George. 

The  oarsmen  in  the  cutter  must  have  had  orders  to  take 
their  time,  for  they  did  not  break  their  backs  in  pulling 
toward  the  Detroit.  It  seemed  to  the  two  boys  that  they 
would  never  reach  her.  They  were  fully  a  hundred  yards 
away  when  the  bell  chimed  out  the  hour  of  ten. 

"  Pull,  you  lazy  rascals!"  cried  George. 

"  No  use  now,  George,"  said  Hal ;   "  we're  late." 

The  cutter  ran  alongside  the  ladder  and  the  two  boys 
leaped  to  the  deck.  They  found  themselves  confronted 
by  the  Executive  Officer,  Mr.  Crane. 

"What  cutter  is  that?"  he  asked,  sternly. 

"  The  Aquidaban's,  sir,"  said  George;  "  we— 

"  You  come  from  aboard  her?" 

"Yes,  sir;   we  were — 

"I  didn't  ask  you  where  you  were  or  what  you  were 
doing.  You  got  permission  to  go  ashore  for  a  specific 
and  proper  purpose,  and  you  come  off  from  an  insurgent 
man-of-war  after  your  leave  has  expired.  You  are  both 
under  arrest." 

"  Under  arrest!"  exclaimed  the  boys. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


A  QUESTION. 

I'VE  puzzled  and  puzzled  since  Christmas-time, 

And  now  I  must  ask  it  of  you  : 
If  Santa  Glaus'  stomach  is  so  big  around, 
How  does  lie  get  through 
That  little  round  flue? 
If  you  can  explain  it,  pray  do. 


HOW   TO    MAKE  A  CROSSBOW. 

BY  GEORGE  ASHDOWN  AUDSLEY. 

VT7HEN  I  was  a  boy  roaming  the  pleasant  hills  and 
I  ?  woods  of  Scotland,  nothing  afforded  me  more  amuse- 
ment than  a  good  crossbow;  and  many  a  crossbow  I  made 
in  those  days.  As  doubtless  many  of  the  readers  of  this 
journal  would  like  to  possess  such  a  weapon,  capable  of 
'throwing  a  missile  a  considerable  distance  with  precision, 
I  shall  in  the  briefest  possible  manner  instruct  them  how 
to  make  a  simple  and  effective  crossbow. 

The  construction  of  a  crossbow  such  as  I  am  about  to 
describe  is  a  simple  matter  in  the  hands  of  a  young  me- 
chanic, and  it  is  also  attended  with  very  little  expense. 
The  first  thing  to  be  made  is  the  stock,  and  while,  so  far 
as  utility  is  concerned,  it  may  be  formed  in  the  roughest 
fashion,  I  strongly  advise  you  to  take  pains  and  finish  it 
carefully.  You  should  early  in  life  learn  and  practise 
the  golden  rule  that  whatever  you  do  that  is  worthy  of 
being  done  should  be  done  with  all  your  might,  being 
fully  assured  that  doing  well  always  brings  its  own 
reward. 

The  stock  may  be  made  of  clean  white  pine,  or,  what  is 
better,  straight-grained  oak,  walnut,  or  ash.  Take  a  piece 
of  wood,  dressed  on  both  sides  and  the  top  edge,  3  feet 
6  inches  long,  7-j  inches  wide,  and  1-|  inches  thick,  and 
carefully  cut  out  the  stock  in  the  form  and  proportions 
given  in  Fig.  1.  The  dotted  line  indicates  the  dimensions 
of  the  piece  of  wood.  In  shaping  and  finishing  the  "  butt " 
and  the  "grip,"  you  had  better  take  an  ordinary  shot-gun 
as  a  model ;  you  will  save  time  and  arrive  at  a  satisfactory 
result  by  so  doing.  The  portion  required  for  the  lock 
(shown  enlarged  in  Fig.  2)  must  be  left  flat  at  the  sides, 
and  the  full  thickness  of  the  wood.  The  head  should 
also  be  left  Hat  on  the  sides,  and  pierced  to  accurately  fit 
the  centre  of  the  bow.  The  barrel  extending  between  the 
lock  and  the  head  should  be  neatly  rounded  on  its  under 
side,  as  indicated  in  Figs.  1  and  3.  Groove  the  upper  face 
of  the  barrel  from  the  lock  to  the  end  with  a  segmental 
channel  ^-inch  wide  and  -f-inch  deep,  for  the  purpose  of 
holding  and  guiding  the  "bolts"  or  "quarrels"  in  the 
process  of  shooting.  A  section  of  the  barrel  showing  the 
channel  is  given  in  Fig.  3. 

The  lock  is  a  somewhat  important  piece  of  mechanism, 
but  it  is  of  the  simplest  construction,  as  will  be  seen  by 
reference  to  Fig.  4.  A  is  a  small  brass  wheel,  gr-inch 
thick,  in  which  two  notches  are  filed,  one  for  the  recep- 
tion of  the  bowstring,  and  the  other  the  detent  in  which 
the  trigger,  B,  acts.  The  trigger  is  kept  in  its  place  by 
means  of  a  small  spring  screwed  to  the  under  side  of 
the  stock.  For  the  reception  of  this  mechanism  you 
must  carefully  cut  a  mortise  of  the  form  shown,  j-inch 
wide,  through  the  lock-piece  of  the  stock,  and  file  it  until 
it  is  perfectly  smooth  inside  and  accurately  fitted  to  the 
wheel  and  trigger.  In  placing  the  wheel  and  trigger  in 
position,  lay  them  accurately  together  on  the  outside  of 
the  lock-piece,  and  with  a  brad-awl  or  screw  which  fits 
the  holes  in  the  wheel  and  trigger  make  corresponding 
holes  in  the  stock.  Now  bore  these  holes  squarely  through 
the  stock,  and  secure  the  wheel  and  trigger  within  the 
mortise  by  screws  or  pieces  of  stout  iron  wire.  You  can 
either  turn  and  file  the  wheel  and  the  trigger  out  of 
pieces  of  flat  brass  plate,  or  prepare  patterns  in  wood  and 
have  the  pieces  cast  at  any  brass-founder's.  They  should 
be  finished  ^-inch  thick,  and  have  their  pivot  holes  about 
-r^-inch  in  diameter.  The  notch  for  the  bowstring  must 
be  rounded  at  its  edges  and  made  very  smooth,  so  as  not 
to  cut  or  fray  the  string.  My  drawings  show  every  de- 
tail so  accurately  that  further  description  of  this  portion 
of  the  crossbow  is  unnecessary. 

I  now  come  to  the  bow  required  to  complete  the  wea- 
pon. The  best  bow  is  one  made  of  steel:  but  as  such  a 
bow  is  too  expensive,  too  difficult  to  bend  by  the  unaided 


268 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


FIG.  1 


Fic.,3 


DIAGRAM    OF    THE    BOW    WITH    BOLTS. 


hand,  and  unnecessarily  powerful,  it  may  be  left  uncle- 


would  be  to  purchase  a  cheap  lancewood  bow  about 
five  feet  long,  and  cut  about  twelve  inches  off  each  end, 
tapering  the  new  ends  slightly,  and  forming  fresh  notches 
for  the  reception  of  the  bowstring.  Whip  with  thin 
cord,  well  waxed,  a  length  of  twelve  inches  in  the  middle 
of  the  bow;  and  then  fit  the  centre  accurately  in  the  hole 
'cut  in  the  head  of  the  stock,  and  secure  it  there  by  thin 
wedges  of  hard- wood.  The  bowstring-  must  be  very  strong, 
as  it  is  subjected  to  considerable  wear.  The  best  string 
is  formed  of  stout  catgut,  doubled,  and  whipped  in  the 
middle,  where  it  is  held  by  the  catch  of  the  lock,  and  ad- 
joining the  loops  at  each  end  with  thin  cord  or  strong 
sill;.  The  whipping  should  be  renewed  as  it  becomes 
worn  by  the  lock  and  contact  with  the  quarrels.  Fig.  5 
shows  a  top  view  of  the  weapon,  with  the  bow  drawn 
ready  for  action. 

The  simplest  and  best  form  of  the  crossbow  bolt  or 
quarrel  is  that  given  in  Fig.  U.  It  is  made  from  pieces 
of  any  kind  of  straight-grained  hard-wood  turned  in  the 
shape  of  the  drawing  A.  The  tail -piece,  B,  is  simply 
cut  away  on  opposite  sides,  forming  a  feather  end,  as  in- 
dicated at  C;  and  this  is  notched,  as  shown  at  D,  for  the 
reception  of  the  bowstring  as  it  is  released  from  the  lock. 
When  the  quarrels  are  used  blunt,  as  at  E,  their  heads 
should  be  plugged  with  lead  to  give  them  the  necessary 
weight,  but  when  they  are  required  for  target-shooting 
they  should  have  brad-awls  fixed  in  their  heads,  as  shown 
at  F. 

If  you  have  followed  my  instructions,  and  finished 
your  crossbow,  I  can  promise  you  much  enjoyment  in 


scribed.     A  very  good  bow  can  be  made  of  lancewood  or     its  use,  and  after  some  practice  you  will  become  a  skilled 
hickory,  and   perhaps  the  best  course   for  you   to  adopt     crossbowman. 


GREAT    STATE     PAPERS. 

BY    HENRY    CLEMENT    HOLMES. 
OUR     TREATIES,    AND     WHO     MAD'E     THEM. 


WHILE  there  is  but  one  original  Treaty  of  Versailles, 
one  Treaty  of  Washington,  one  Clayton  -  Bulwer 
Treaty — which  last  you  so  often  hear  mentioned — there 
are  at  least  two  official  copies  of  all  other  treaties.  These 
are  called  "exchange  copies,"  because  they  are  really 
exchanged  by  representatives  of  the  governments  which 
are  parties  to  them,  and  the  exact  moment  at  which  this 
exchange  is  made  by  those  representatives  is  that  mo- 
ment on  which  the  treaty  becomes  legally  operative  in 
both  countries  affected  by  it. 

Treaties  take  their  names  after  cities,  or  after  courts 
at  which  the\r  are  drawn  up.  Thus  the  Treaty  of  Versailles, 
dated  at  Paris,  affects-  the  United  States  and  England. 
The  famous  Treaty  of  Berlin  affected  in  vital  degree  not 
Germany,  but  England  and  Russia. 

After  a  treaty  has  been  negotiated  and  ratified  by  both 
governments  that  are  parlies  to  it,  our  Stale  Department 
prepares  an  "  exchange  copy  "  of  it,  which  it  presents  to 
the  other  party  to  the  treaty.  If  it  be  a  treaty  with 
Japan,  C'liina,  or  any  countries  of  the  far  East,  or  if  it 
be  one  with  Turkey.  Russia,  Sweden,  or 
Greece,  it  is  written  in  some  European 
language.  If  it  be  a  treaty  with  Spain. 
Portugal,  or  any  of  the  South  American  re- 
publics, it  is  usually  written  in  Spanish 
and  English. 

The  treaty  is  engrossed  upon  parchment, 
on  one  side  of  the  sheet,  and  the  seal  of 
the  United  States,  which,  unlike  the  seal 
of  almost  every  other  nation  of  the  world, 
is  not  wax,  but  embossed  white  paper,  is 
placed  at  the  left  of  the  official  signa- 
ture at  the  end  of  the  document. 


This  official  signature  is  not  that  of  the  Secretary  of 
State  or  of  a  commissioner,  as  in  the  case  of  an  original, 
but  the  signature  of  the  President  of  the  United  States. 
The  parchment  used  is  ten  by  eighteen  inches  in  size,  and 
to  preserve  the  sheets  there  are  provided  stiff  covers  of 
red  or  blue  Russia  leather. 

The  exchange  copy  'of  our  last  treaty  with  Spain  was 
engrossed  in  a  hand  that  was  more  beautiful  than  print. 
The  paper  was  divided  down  the  middle  by  a  pale  blue 
line.  On  the  left  of  the  line  was  written  the  English 
version,  and  on  the  right  the  Spanish  one.  In  mention- 
ing the  parties  to  the  treaty  we  always  mention  ourselves 
first,  thus  reversing  the  usual  rule  of  private  etiquette. 
The  Spanish  government  prepared  a  similar  exchange 
copy,  signed  by  the  Spanish  sovereign.  In  this  one  the 
Spanish  version  is  written  on  the  left,  or  first,  half  of  the 
page,  the  English  on  the  second,  or  last,  and  Spain  fol- 
lows the  universal  diplomatic  custom  by  mentioning  her- 
self first. 

These  exchange  copies  having  been  prepared,  the  rep- 


TBE    JAPANESE    TREATY    IN    ITS    LACQUER    BOX. 


FEBRUARY  12,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


269 


JAPANESE    TREATY    OPEN. 


resentatives  of  the  two  countries  meet  by  appointment, 
and  formally  trade  copies.  Hence  our  exchange  copies 
are  not  at  Washington,  but  in  foreign  capitals,  while  in 
the  State  Department  at  Washington  may  be  seen,  if  you 
get  the  necessary  permission  to  do  so,  exchange  copies 
that  have  been  prepared  in  almost  every  part  of  the 
globe,  and  which  bear  the  autographs  of  almost  every 
sovereign  and  President  of  the  world  for  the  last  hundred 
years  and  more. 

Exchange  copies  made  by  us  to  present  to  foreign  na- 
tions are  severely  plain  when  compared  with  those  that 
foreign  nations  present  to  us.  Those  from  Siam,  Japan, 
and  China  contain  all  the  flummery  that  can  be  crowded 
into  or  upon  them.  They  bear  gold  lettering  in  profu- 
sion, seals  as  big  as  the  crown  of  your  hat,  and  enough 
ribbon  to  stock  a  notion-counter  of  a  metropolitan  store. 

A  famous  treaty  of  amity  and  commerce  was  drawn 
up  between  this  country  and  the  Tycoon  of  Japan,  and 
the  exchange  copy  of  it,  prepared  by  the  Japanese  For- 
eign Office  for  presentation  to  us,  is  a  work  of  art.  First, 
there  is  a  black  lacquer  box  of  exquisite  make  tied  with 
heavy  cords  and  tassels  of  purple  silk.  Raising  the  lid, 
one  sees  the  treaty  contained  in  a  book  over  half  an  inch 
thick,  and  bound  in  gold  brocade.  The  text  of  the  treaty 
is  in  Dutch,  but  accompanying  this  is  the  document 
known  as  the  "  full  power,"  a  few  sheets  of  paper  bearing 
Japanese  characters,  and  contained  in  a  sewn  slip  of  while 
and  gold  brocade  ;  both  the  treaty  and  "  full  power''  are 
wrapped  in  a  large  square  of  scarlet  silk  brocade. 

Another  unique  exchange  copy  is  the  one  between 
the  United  States  and  the  Sultan  of  Muscat,  called  the 
Treaty  of  Muscat.  It  is  written  in  Arabic  upon  linen 
paper  that  is  bordered  with  scarlet  and  gold  lines,  and  en- 
closed in  a  highly  polished  three-jointed  ivory  cylinder. 
Uncle  Sam  is  also  in  receipt  of  many  queer  articles  that 
signify  to  the  senders  amity 'and  good-will.  There  is  a 
whale  tooth  from  the  Fiji  Islands,  a  grass  robe  trimmed 
with  bird  feathers  from  Samoa,  a  daguerreotype  of  the 
King  of  Korea,  and  a  silver  urn  from  the  Queen  of  Mada- 
gascar. 

A  student  in  Syracuse  University,  who  is  deeply  inter- 
ested in  autograph  -collecting,  penned  a  polite  request 
for  an  autograph,  enclosed  a  postal  note  for  twenty-five 
cents,  and  addressed  the  envelope,  "Victoria,  Queen  of 
Great  Britain,  London.  England."  He  waited  three 
months  for  a  response.  Then  he  wrote  again,  making  tin1 
same  polite  request,  but  adding  a  postscript  to  the  effect 
that  in  his  opinion  either  the  autograph  or  the  quarter 
ought  to  be  forth-coming.  At  the  end  of  a  little  more 


than    a    month    he    received    the    auto- 
graph. 

I  would  not  encourage  this  sort  of  thing 
among  American  boys  and  girls.  The 
Queen  never  knew,  of  course,  that  the 
student  made  such  a  request,  yet  the  auto- 
graph was  genuine.  Did  you  ever  see 
Queen  Victoria's  autograph?  I  have  seen 
it  many  times  in  the  British  Museum, 
among  records  of  Parliament  in  Somer- 
set House,  London,  and  on  exchange 
copies  of  treaties  in  the  State  Depart- 
ment, Washington. 

Queen  Victoria  writes  a  coarser  hand 
now   than  she  used  to  do,  but   it  is    still 
firm    and    full    of    character.     She    now 
signs  herself,  "Victoria,  R.  I.," — the   let- 
ters on  the  same  line  with  her  name.     Be- 
fore she  added  the  "  I  "  she  used  to  write 
the  "R"  beneath    her  name,  connecting 
it  with  the  final  stroke  of  the  "a"  in  her 
name    by    a    rather    stiff   flourish.       Of 
course  the  "R"  signifies  Queen  of  Great 
Britain  and  Ireland,  and  the  "  I  "  Empress 
of  India,  the  Latin  initials  being  used.     Here  is  a  pen  de- 
scription  of   a    late  autograph,  the  signature  to   an  ex- 
change copy  of  a  treaty  between   this  country  and  Eng- 
land relative  to  the  Northwest  boundary — that  54°  40' one 
to  which  your   grandfather  in   a  famous  political  cam- 
paign  added  the  words,  "or  fight." 

The  "  V  "  is  seven-eighths  of  an  inch  tall,  and  she  used 
exactly  four  inches  of  horizontal  space  in  writing  the  ten 
letters.  If  you  try  to  make  these  letters  fill  the  space 
indicated  you  will  see  that  this  signature  is  a  very  bold 
one — for  a  woman  to  write.  The  "Vis  not  correctly 
made,  but  is  crossed  near  the  top,  and  looks  almost  ex- 
actly like  the  lower  part  of  a  small  writing  "y  "set  up 
on  the  line.  The  "  t  "  is  crossed  twice — once  with  a  heavy 
flourish  above  it,  and  once  with  a  pen  mark  running  up- 
ward, left,  and  then  to  the  first  stroke  of  the  letter.  The 
"R"  follows  the  "  a"  without  a  break,  falls  far  to  the 
right  of  the  upright  line,  and  has  a  very  small  top.  Ex- 
actly reversing  this  order,  the  capital  "I, "which  follows 
the  "  R"  without  a  raise  of  the  pen,  is  almost  all  top,  and 
almost  no  bottom.  The  small  letters  are  coarse,  and  the 
capitals  ungraceful.  The  whole  looks  quite  unlike  a 
woman's  hand,  and  unlike  the  hand  of  a  person  accus- 


THK    JU'SCAT    TREATY. 


270 


HARPER'S    YOUNG    PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVL 


tomed  to  the  use  of  a  pen.  This  signature  is  attached  to 
a  very  beautiful  copy  of  this  important  treaty.  It  was  pre- 
pared in  the  London  Foreign  Office  for  presentation  to  us, 
and  is  a  book  ten  inches  by  fourteen  in  size.  The  covers 
are  stiff,  and  padded  on  the  outside  with  scarlet  plush; 
on  the  inside  with  very  pale  blue  satin. 

The  treaty  is  written  upon  sixteen  pages  of  heavy 
parchment,  unruled,  but  bordered  all  around  each  page, 
and  very  near  the  edge,  by  a  single  red  line.  The  engross- 
ing is  most  beautiful.  There  is  no  introduction,  such  as 
"In  the  Name  of  the  Most  Holy  and  Undivided  Trinity," 
that  begins  many  treaties.  Its  first  word  is  "Victoria," 
written  quite  large.  Following  this  name  there  are 
enumerated  about  a  score  of  titles.  When  at  last  the  text 
reaches  the  party  of  the  second  part  it  calls  us  "  Our  good 
friends,"  and  specifies  that  the  term  means  the  United 
States  of  America.  Only  at  the  very  beginning  is  the 
term  explained.  Throughout  the  rest  of  the  treaty  we 
are  called  simply  "  Our  good  friends." 

The  lines  go  entirely  across  the  page,  and  at  the  end  is 
the  statement,  "Given  by  the  Court  at  Osborne,  August 
5,  1892."  The  covers  are  held  together  at  the  front  by 
two  gros  grain  ribbons  two  inches  in  width.  One  is  a 
pale  blue,  and  the  other  an  emerald  green ;  the  latter  for 
Ireland,  I  suppose,  but  against  the  pale  blue  and  scarlet  it 
gives  one's  sense  of  color  harmony  a  shock. 

The  parchment  leaves  are  bound  into  the  covers  by  two 
large  scarlet  and  silver-tinsel  cords  that  are  four  feet  long, 
and  that  terminate  in  two  ugly  tinsel  tassels.  Before 
reaching  the  tassels,  however,  the  cords  pass  through  the 
seal,  which  is  of  pale  olive-green  wax,  half  an  inch  thick, 
and  six  and  one-half  inches  across — a  cumbrous  affair 
that  requires  a  tin  box  to  preserve  it  in.  One  side  of  the 
seal  shows  Victoria  on  the  throne,  with  female  attendants, 
the  whole  suggestive  of  the  marble  group  in  the  corridor 
of  the  House  of  Lords  at  Westminster;  the  other  side 
of  it  represents  the  figure  of  the  same  sovereign,  with  the 
words  so  familiar  on  the  English  coins  as  a  border.  The 
whole  is  preserved  in  a  black  leather  box,  that  is  lined 
with  white  plush,  and  built  in  compartments  to  accom- 
modate the  great  seal. 


CHINA'S    MARINES. 

T'HE  Sublime  Son  of  Heaven  really  wonders  why  it  is 
that  his  Celestial  children  do  so  little  fighting  and  so 
much  running  away.  Poor  fellow,  he  is  not  allowed  to 
go  out  at  all  and  look  about  him,  or  he  would  see  some 
peculiar  sights  that  would  open  his  eyes.  He  has  heard, 
of  course,  how  his  ancestors,  the  Tartars  and  the  Man- 
choos,  fought  till  they  had  pulled  each  other's  pigtails 
out  by  the  roots  and  all  that,  and  he  has  been  taught 
that  the  greatest  of  all  great  impossibilities  is  for  the 
Japanese  or  any  other  nation  to  disturb  the  unapproach- 
able serenity  of  his  realm. 

I  met  with  an  amusing  sample  of  China's  marines 
when  going  up  the  coast  upon  a  rather  small  American 
trading  vessel.  The  Captain  was  a  blue-eyed  Yankee. 
We  were  leaning  on  the  rail,  smoking  and  chatting. 
There  was  just  a  working  breeze.  The  vessel  required 
little  attention  except  from  the  lookout  and  man  at  the 
wheel.  The  water  was  smooth,  the  sun  was  hot.  There 
was  a  sail  over  ilie  starboard  bow.  It  was  a  Chinese 
vessel.  The  two  enormous  ribbed  sails,  fashioned  like 
the  shoulder-  fins  of  a  fish,  were  set  to  the  light  breeze, 
and  caught  every  breath  of  it.  She  was  doing  much 
better  than  we. 

The  Captain  philosophized  a  little  upon  the  superiority 
of  some  antediluvian  ideas  over  modern  notions,  then, 
carelessly  handing  me  the  glass,  he  asked,  "Can  you 
make  her  out?'' 


It  was  easily  done.  She  was  evidently  a  mandarin 
junk,  manned  by  Chinese  marines,  doubtless  one  of  the 
coast  patrols  out  there  to  hold  pirates  in  check. 

The  Captain  cast  a  quick  glance  about  him,  and  re- 
plied :  "She'll  be  a  pirate  herself  if  she  can  come  near 
enough.  There's  no  one  looking  on." 

I  had  heard  of  such  things  happening,  but  as  I  looked 
at  the  size  of  the  junk,  and  then  at  our  little  vessel, 
manned  by  twelve  men,  I  was  not  in  the  least  anxious  to 
have  it  happen  now. 

"She  changed  her  course  a  while  ago  to  cross  our 
bows,"  the  Captain  added,  a  little  later.  "  Let's  see  if  she 
means  business." 

He  tacked  as  far  as  he  could  and  hold  the  wind.  In  a 
moment  the  junk  was  again  set  to  meet  us,  and  coming 
pretty  close.  There  was  no  mistake  about  it ;  yet  the  glass 
showed  only  eight  or  ten  men  lying  about  on  the  deck. 
The  only  one  who  seemed  awake  was  a  half-naked  fellow 
at  the  helm,  and  he  was  leaning  over  as  though  he  was 
on  the  point  of  taking  a  nap. 

"They'll  catch  us,  sure,"  the  Captain  muttered;  but  he 
did  not  seem  much  disturbed. 

"  What  can  we  do?"  I  asked. 

"  Not  much  of  anything."  He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
"We've  got  some  powder  for  that  little  cannon  forward 
for  signalling,  but  I'm  blest  if  there's  a  single  shot  in  the 
locker,  or  I  would  make  a  hole  in  her.  Got  a  revolver?" 

I  produced  my  best  friend  in  that  line — one  which  had 
several  times  served  me  well.  To  my  astonishment,  the 
Captain  calmly  looked  at  it,  saw  that  it  was  loaded,  tested 
the  trigger,  and  deliberately  put  it  in  his  pocket. 

"  It  may  come  in  handy,"  he  said,  as  though  there  was 
no  possibility  that  I  might  find  it  "handy  " myself.  "I've 
got  a  big  navy  down  below,  but  nothing  to  put  in  it. 
No  use  for  it  at  sea,  you  know.  I  used  to  be  a  crack  shot 
with  one  of  these  things.  I  think  I'll  try  it  if  I  get  a 
good  mark." 

He  ordered  the  cannon  loaded  to  the  muzzle,  the  colors 
ready  to  run  up,  the  four  gates  ready  to  open  instantly, 
with  the  cannon  at  the  forward  gate,  and  all  hands  below 
ready  to  stand  by  when  called  for.  Then,  without  a  sailor 
on  deck  but  the  man  at  the  wheel,  and  as  calmly  as  if 
he  were  lyi-ng  in  port,  he  took  a  chew  of  tobacco,  leaned 
lazily  011  the  rail  and  watched  the  mandarin  junk. 

Down  she  came,  nearer  and  nearer,  still  without  a  sign 
of  activity.  I  began  to  think  we  were  mistaken,  after 
all,  well  as  I  ought  to  have  known  the  Chinese.  She 
was  so  near  that  we  could  hear  the  water  lapping  her 
prow  under  the  grim  dragon  with  two  great  eyes,  and 
still  the  half-naked  Celestial  hung  over  the  rudder  arm 
and  dozed. 

She  came  within  easy  speaking  distance.  She  came 
nearer.  The  fellow  at  the  helm  pushed  a  little.  It  was 
evident  he  was  intending  to  strike  us  right  amidships. 
It  was  not  over  two  minutes  off.  There  is  something  to 
make  a  landlubber's  nerves  cringe  in  a  sight  like  that. 

"Hard  a-port,"  the  Captain  muttered,  without  moving 
his  head. 

I  didn't  believe  the  man  could  have  heard  at  all,  till 
"  Hard  a-port,  sir,"  came,  in  the  same  low  tones,  from  the 
man  at  the  wheel,  and  in  a  moment  the  vessel  came 
about. 

There  was  a  wild  yell  from  the  junk,  and  suddenly 
every  foot  of  her  deck,  and  even  her  ungainly  rigging, 
were  alive.  They  were  all  naked  to  the  waist.  There 
were  a  hundred  or  more  of  them.  They  sprang  from 
everywhere,  yelling  and  brandishing  different  kinds  of 
weapons.  A  dozen  caught  the  rudder  beam  to  bring  the 
craft  about,  but  she  was  much  slower  at  it  than  our 
vessel,  with  the  result  that,  instead  of  coming  in  collis- 
ion, we  lay  broadsides  to,  twenty  feet  apart. 

The  Captain  did  not  move  till  the  fiist  yell  sounded, 
but  then,  quick  as  thought,  he  turned:  "Stand  by,  boys. 


FEBRUARY  12,  1S95. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


271 


Open  the  water-gates.  Hun  out  the  cannon,  and  let  her 
go.  Up  with  the  colors  there — be  lively!  To  the  port- 
rail,  every  man." 

To  the  indistinct  comprehension  of  a  landsman  this  is 
about  what  came  from  his  lips,  and  came  as  fast  as  the 
English  language  could  conveniently  be  spoken.  The 
result  was  something  astonishing.  Naturally  I  was 
watching  the  junk,  wishing  that  I  had  my  revolver,  and 
paying  little  attention  to  what  was  going  on  on  our  own 
deck. 

It  was  not  over  one  minute,  at  the  most,  for  we  were 
only  abreast  of  each  other,  and  the  Captain  of  the  junk 
had  barely  gained  a  position  in  the  rigging  and  begun 
yelling  to  his  men,  when  there  was  a  crash  like  thunder 
from  our  deck,  a  cloud  of  smoke  rolling  between  the  two 
vessels,  a  report  from  my  revolver,  and  the  Captain  of  the 
junk,  with  a  furious  contortion,  fell  headlong  to  the  deck. 

For  a  moment  there  was  a  tumult  on  the  junk.  I  half 
expected  it  would  result  in  our  total  annihilation.  The 
next  instant  there  was  not  a  man  in  sight  except  the 
wounded  Captain,  wriggling  about  on  the  deck,  and  the 
fellow  at  the  helm,  who  was  wide  awake,  and  tugging  for 
life  to  head  the  junk  away  from  us. 

From  somewhere  or  other,  in  hiding,  came  a  plaintive 
wail:  "No  shootee.  No  shootee.  Mellikan  man  all 
lightee.  Cheenaman  no  hurtee." 

The  Captain  returned  my  revolver  with  the  simple  re- 
mark, "So  much  for  your  Chinese  marines." 


THE  STRANGE 


ADVENTURES  OF  TOMMY 
TUDDLES. 


BY     ALBERT    LEE. 
CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  path  to  the  sea  led  first  down  the  hill,  then  across  some 
fields,  and  filially  through  a  little  stretch  of  woods.  These 
"were  dark  and  spooky, and  as  Tommy  tramped  along  under  the 
trees  between  the  Shee|>  and  the  ex-Pirate  he  imagined  several 
times  that  he  heard  strange  noises  in  the  underbrush.  These 
noises  sounded  like  distant  roars  and  growls — very  faint,  indis- 
tinct roars  and  growls,  to  be  snre,  but  roars  and  growls,  never- 
theless— and  the  little  boy  eonld  not  help  recalling  what  the 
Sheep  had  said  aboilt  lions  at  the  time  of  the  Welsh  Rabbit's 
visit  to  the  Poor  House.  He  tried  not  to  display  any  timidity, 
but  he  asked: 

"Are — are  there  any  lions  around  here?" 

"Oh  yes,"  auswered  the  Sheep,  in  the  same  careless  tone  he 
would  have  used  if  Tommy  had  said  "  trees  "  instead  of"  lions" ; 
but  when  he  noticed  that  the  little  boy  looked  frightened,  he 
.added,  "They  are  not  dangerous  lions,  though;  they  are  only 
Dandelions." 

Whereupon  Tommy  felt  much  relieved,  and  skipped  along  mer- 
irily  until  he  saw  a  Turtle-dove  spread  its  wings  and  fly  up  into 
the  air  and  rest  on  the  limb  of  a  maple-tree.  This  was  too  much 
•even  for  a  little  boy  who  had  seen  nothing  but  impossible  things 
all  the  afternoon.  He  stopped  right  short  in  the  middle  of  the 
road  and  gazed  up  at  this  new  wonder. 

"Now  don't  stand  there  and  stare  at  that  Turtle-dove."  said 
the  ex-Pirate,  somewhat  impatiently;  "we  have  not  time  to 
•stand  around  and  study  unnatural  history.  If  we  don't  Lurry 
we  won't  reach  the  Penguin's  till  dark." 

This  was  a  very  strong  argument  with  the  little  boy,  so  he 
gave  one  last  glance  at  the  Turtle-dove,  and  ran  along  until  he 
caught  up  with  his  two  companions.  In  .1  few  moments  they 
broke  out  at  the  edge  of  the  wood,  and  found  themselves  only  a 
short  distance  from  the  seashore.  The  breakers  were  making 
a  great  noise  on  the  sand,  and  back  of  them  the  calm  blue  sea 
. stretched  away  unspotted  by  any  smoke  or  sail.  Purely  out  of 
Labit  the  ex-Pirate  put  his  hand  up  over  his  eyes  and  looked 
around  from  north  to  south  the  entire  length  of  the  sky-line. 
Then  he  shook  his  head  sadly  and  sighed: 

"I'm  no  good  at  scanning  the  horizon  any  more.  This  busi- 
ness of  scanning  hexameters  and  pentameters  and  Alexandriues 
•  spoils  a  man  utterly  for  a  good,  all-arouud,  every-day,  smooth 
horizon." 

Tommy  did  not  even  try  to  understand  what  he  was  talking 
-about,  but  trudged  right  along  in  silence  beside  the  Sheep. 


They  bad  not  gone  very  far  before  they  caught  sight  of  two 
figures  in  the  distance. 

"I'll  bet  that's  Thingumbob,"  said  the  Sheep,  calling  the  ex- 
Pirate's  attention  to  them. 

"That's  just  who  it  is,  and  I  wonder  what  he  is  doing?" 

He  certainly  «•««  doing  something,  this  figure  whom  they 
called  Thingumbob.  As  they  drew  nearer  to  him  Tommy  thought 
he  must  be  making  a  speech,  for  he  could  see  that  he  was  wav- 
ing his  arms  and  shaking  his  fists  at  his  companion,  who  ap- 
peared to  be  very  much  affected  by  what  was  being  said.  The 
second  figure  Tommy  soon  made  out  to  be  a  Seal.  He  was  a 
rather  large  Seal,  and  was  sitting  on  a  rock,  while  Thingumbob 
stood  on  the  sand  in  front  of  him.  Tommy  tried  later  to  de- 
scribe Thingumbob  to  his  Uncle  Dick,  but  he  found  himself 
unequal  to  the  task.  At  times  the  queer  creature  resembled 
everybody  Tommy  had  ever  known,  and  yet  again  he  looked 
like  nobody  in  particular.  He  was  a  nondescript  sort  of  being, 
entirely  indescribable. 

As  they  came  nearer  they  could  Lear  him  using  the  most 
dreadful  kind  of  language;  he  was  scolding  the  Seal,  and  call- 
ing him  names  in  a  most  outrageous  manner.  He  was  so  en- 
grossed in  pouring  out  this  vituperation  that  he  did  not  hear 
the  approach  of  Tommy  Toddles  and  his  companions.  The  Seal 
was  apparently  greatly  distressed  over  what  Thingumbob  was 
saying,  for  he  held  his  tins  up  to  his  eyes,  and  wept  bitterly. 
Neither  the  ex-Pirate  nor  the  Sheep  seemed  in  the  least  affected 
by  the  scene. 

"What  is  that  awful  person  doing?"  asked  Tommy  as  they 
came  quite  close  to  him. 

"Who?  Thingumbob?"  said  the  Sheep.  "Oh,  that's  all  right! 
But  I  suppose  you  don't  understand.  Look  at  him  now."  Thing- 
umbob was  holding  a  dipper  in  front  of  the  Seal's  face,  and  was 
catching  the  poor  beast's  tears  while  he  scolded  him  in  the  most 
dreadful  manner. 

"Thingumbob  always  does  that," the  Sheep  went  on  to  say. 
"  Whenever  he  meets  a  Seal  he  scolds  him  and  blackguards  him 
until  the  poor  thing  begins  to  cry.  Then  he  catches  the  tears 
in  his  dipper,  because  Seals  weep  sealing  -  wax,  you  know." 
Tommy  did  not  know  it,  but  he  nodded  his  head  and  looked  to 
the  Sheep  for  more  information.  "Thingumbob  is  a  great  col- 
lector of  sealing-wax.  He  lias  lots  of  it  at  home.  All  colors, 
yon  know.  Most  of  it  is  red,  though.  Young  Seals  weep  red 
sealing-wax,  and  it  is  easier  to  make  them  cry.  If  you  just  pinch 
a  young  Seal,  or  say  '  Booh  !'  at  him,  he'll  cry.  Tlio  middle-aged 
Seals  weep  yellow  and  bine  and  brown  and  black  sealing-wax. 
The  old  fellows  shed  golden  tears,  and  it's  pretty  hard  to  make 
them  cry." 

"This  one  is  crying  in  blue, ''said  Tommy,  for  they  had  now 
gotten  close  enough  to  Thingumbob  and  the  Seal  to  be  able  to 
see  the  contents  of  the  dipper.  It  was  almost  fu41  of  blue  seal- 
ing-wax. 

"  Hello  !"  said  Thingumbob,  when  he  saw  the  three  :  and  turn- 
ing toward  them  he  waved  his  dipper  at  them  in  a  friendly  sort 
of  way. 

"  May  I  go  now  ?"  whimpered  the  Seal,  seizing  the  opportunity 
to  escape. 

"  Yes,  you  may  go,"  shouted  Thingumbob,  fiercely  ;  "  and  don't 
you  let  me  catch  you  at  it  again!"  The  Seal  hobbled  off  the 
rock  toward  the  surf,  shedding  blue  tears  on  the  sand  as  he 
went  (which  Thingumbob  carefully  picked  up  as  he  followed 
along  behind),  and  then  jumped  into  the  waves  and  disap- 
peared. 

"That's  pretty  good  for  ten  minutes'  talk,  isn't  it?"  remarked 
Thingumbob,  holding  out  his  dipper  for  the  others  to  inspect. 

"  How  did  you  get  it?"  asked  the  ex-Pirate. 

"Oh,  I  scared  him  half  to  death.  I  told  him  he  bad  been 
putting  the  Sea-fox  np  to  stealing  my  Chicken-lobsters,  and 
that  I'd  have  him  arrested  and  put  up  in  an  Eagle's  nest  on  top 
of  a  mountain." 

The  Sheep  and  the  ex-Pirate  seemed  to  think  what  Thingum- 
bob said  was  very  funny,  for  they  laughed  and  asked  him  a  lot 
of  questions.  Tommy,  in  the  mean  while,  was  more  interested 
in  Thingumbob's  personal  appearance  than  in  \\  hat  he  said.  Ho 
was  certainly  the  queerest-looking  creature  the  little  boy  had 
ever  encountered.  He  never  looked  twice  alike.  When  I  hey 
had  first  come  up  Tommy  thought  Thingumbob  had  gray  side 
whiskers,  but  as  he  looked  now  he  had  no  whiskers  at  all.  His 
pockets  were  stuffed,  and  fairly  bulging  with  all  sorts  of  odds 
and  ends,  among  which  Tommy  could  see  bits  of  string,  pieces 
of  spangled  cloth,  an  old  clock,  a  broken  saw.  a  tin  horn,  a  match- 
box, shells,  ribbons,  picture  cards,  and  all  sorts  of  trash.  The 
ex-Pirate  was  evidently  as  much  amused  as  Tommy  at  the  sight 


272 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME    XVL 


breakers,  and  strolled  over 
to  where  Tommy  and  his 
friends  were  conversing. 

[TO    EK    CONTINUED.] 


TKACIIEK.  "Thomas,  how 
is  it  that  James  can  say  his 
alphabet  so  much  better 
than  you  can;  he  never 
misses  a  letter?" 

THOMAS.  "He  oughtn't  to, 
'cause  his  father's  a  post- 
man." 


WAG  (to  friend  who  ix  try- 
ing to  polish  lip  a  pair  of  old 
patent-leather  xliuts).  "  I  say, 
old  man,  don't  \  on  think 
the  patent  has  expired  on 
those?" 


CH.  "Oh,  mamma, 
see  the  carriage-wheels  mak- 
ing successful  rebellious !" 

MAMMA.  ••  What  do  you 
mean,  dear?" 

MUHDOCH.  "  Why,  mam- 
ma, teacher  said  that  revo- 
lutions are  successful  rebel- 
lious." 


'WHAT    IS    THAT    AWFUL    PERSON    DOING?"    ASKED    TOMMY. 


of  this  odd  collection  of  useless  material  sticking  out  of  Thing- 
umbob's pockets. 

"  What  are  you  carrying  all  that  stufl'  around  for?"  he  finally 
asked. 

"Oh, I  always  do, "replied  Thingumbob. 

"But  it's  nothing  but  a  lot  of  trash,  a  lot  of  trumpery,"  said 
Tommy. 

"I  know  it,"  continued  Thingumbob,  calmly  ;  "but  don't  yon 
know  that  yon  can-always  tell  a  man  by  the  trumpery  he  keep.-  .'" 
And  having  thus  spoken,  he 
sat  down  on  a  rock  and  began 
to  brush  his  hair,  using  the 
lioltoiu  of  his  tin  dipper  for 
a  mirror.  It  was  a  very  old 
brush  that  be  used,  and  it 
was  very  full  of  hairs,  and  as 
Thingumbob  proceeded  with 
his  toilet  he  frequently 
paused  to  look  at  it.  Fi- 
nally he  said  to  the  Sheep, 
"I  don't  know  how  it  is 
about  wool,  bnl  a  hair  on  the 
head  is  worth  two  in  the 
brush." 

"So  they  say,"  replied  the 
Sheep;  "but  we  have  not 
time  to  stay  here  and  dis- 
cuss I  hat.  We  want  to  find 
out  :ibmit  the  tight." 

"It's  all  over."  said  Thing- 
umbob. 

"Who  won?" 

"I  forget,"  he  added. 
"Either  the  Swordlish  or 


BRAGGADOCIOS,  BEWARE  ! 
BILL  BKOWN'S  babyish 
brothers  (bolli  being  bad 
boys)  bamboozled  bandy- 
legged Bartholomew  Braliam 
by  breaking  Bernice  Bra- 
ham's  beautiful  bamboo  bon- 
bon basket. 

Bernice  being  Bartholo- 
mew's brother,  became  belligerent ;  because,  before  Bill's  bad 
brothers  broke  Bernice's  beautiful  bamboo  bonbon  basket,  both 
began  behaving  badly  by  besmearing  Bartholomew's  Bible  bind- 
ing. 

Both  Browns  being  big  babies  boggled  before  Bartholomew. 
Bartholomew  beat  both  Browns  badly.      Both  Browns  being 
big  babies  began  boohooing. 

Beruice  bellowed,  "  Bravo,  Barty  !     Beat  both  braggadocios!" 
Barty  beat  both  bravely. 


the  Penguin  won.  I  don't 
remember  which.  But  here 
come  some  Clams;  perhaps 
they  know." 

Just  then,  as  Thingum- 
bob had  said,  half  a  do/en 
flams  stepped  out  of  the 


A    COMIC    VALENTINE— CAUGHT    IN    THE    ACT. 


HARPERS 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


Copyright,  1895,  by  HABPHK  &   ER 


All  Rights  Reserved. 


PUBLISHED     WEEKLY. 

VOL.  svi. — NO.  799. 


XK\V  YORK,  TUESDAY,  FEBRUARY  19,  1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO  UOLLAltS  A    YEAR. 


THE     SPIRIT     OF     INDEPENDENCE. 


BY    CAROLINE    A.   CREEVY    AND     MARGARET    E.   SANGSTER. 


CHARACTERS: 


1.  MASSACHUSETTS MAUD. 

2.  CONNECTICUT GLADYS. 

3.  XKW   HAMPSHIRE ELINOR. 


7.  PENNSYLVANIA  ........  EMMA. 

8.  DELAWARE  ...........  ISABKL. 

IP.   MARYLAND  .......  CATHARINE. 

4.  RHODE  ISLAND.  ..  .MARGUERITE.     10.  VIROINM  ..........  JOSEPHINE. 

.">.  XKW  YOIIK  .........  FLORENCE.     11.  NORTH    CAROLINA  .....  BKSSIK. 

6.  NEW  JERSEY  .............  IDA.     12.  SOUTH  CAROLINA  ........  MAY. 

13.   GEORGIA  ............  HELEN. 

SPIRIT  OF  INDEPENDENCE  ......................  GENETIETE  HOWARD. 

(Costumes  should  be  of  red,  white,  and  blue  cheese-cloth. 
Each  State  must  wear  upon  her  breast  a  shield  bearing  the  name 
of  the  Colony  she  represents.  The  occasion  is  a  birthday  party 
to  Genevieve,  who 
was  born  on  Wash- 
ington's birthday  — 
February  22d. 
SCENE.—  .4  parlor 

in    Mrs.  Howard's 

IK,  UK,-.        Thirteen 

rhiiirsm;  ,i  n;i  ni/i  d 
fur  the  expected 

,/,/ixtx,  ill  tli  I'd 
(//•""/«,  r<  ],i't'gent- 
iinj  tin'  .\i  ir  Enrj- 
l,i  ml,  (',  iilnil.  it  nd 

SOU  t  III  I'll 


on  Gene  vk-ve,  Mrs. 
Howard.  nnil  the 
Pago,  (ienevieve 
is  dressed  in  irliite 

irith  ,i  i-iil,  irliit,  , 
,iinl  hi  in-  i/ird/i; 

il  ,-i-niri,  nf  ijilt  i'il- 

jit'r  tin  In  i-  lii  ''(/,  ill 
7ier  liiinil  a  irniiil 
maili  nf  iim-i;iir  rib- 
bon —  rnl,irliiti-,mid 
bin,  •  —  in,  nnil  ii/innt 
a  stick  lipiifil  n-itli 
a  star.  The  Page 

xllllllld  In'  dr,  Kill    ill 

Colonial  ciix/nine, 
irhieh  i-ii  it  In  hired, 
including  a  poio- 
ili  red  -trig.  The 
girls  repi'isi  ntin,/ 
the  thii-li'i  ii  nil,  inies 
should  have  their 
hair  powdered. 
Mrs.  Howard,  in 
In  r  iiirii  rim  meter 
n  ml  plainly  dr,  us- 
ed, is  iiri-iiinjinij 
the  chairs.  Gene- 
vieve is  xuitu!  oil 
her  thi;in<  .mi  ,11-111- 
cftnir  ilni/Hil  with 
>'"ffs::,  Hw  Page 
lounging  ""  the 

pliitfurin  nt  In  r  /',,/. 


Mi:s.   HOWARD  ..............................   GENEVIEVE'S  mother. 

A  PAGE  .........................  GENETIKVF.'S  small  hrolher  HAIIRT. 

GENERAL  WASHINGTON  .........................  JOSEPHINE'S  brother, 

THE  MARQUIS  DF.  LAFAYETTE  .....................  JOSEPHINE'S  friend. 

AN  INDIAN  GIRL.  .  .  .MRS.  HOWARD'S  niece,  introduced  bij  MRS.  HOWARD, 

a  surprise  to  GENEVIEVE. 
A  PROPHETESS.  .  .A  young  lady  fnend,aho  introduced  fy  MRS.  HOWARD, 

a  surprise  to  GKNKVIKVK. 

Jfrs.  Howard.  There,  my  daughter,  I  believe  everything  is 
ready.  You  will  remember  how  to  seat  your  friends.  This  is 
the  New  England  division;  this,  the  Central;  this,  the  Southern. 

drill  rirre.          Yes, 

thank    you,    dearest 
of   mammas.      How 
lovely  you  have  been 
to  get  up  this  parly! 
I  only  h()]ie  the  girls 
will  enjoy  it  as  much 
as  I  do  already. 
[Genevieve     runs 
In    hi  r    mnther, 
nnil    tfinnr.1  fur 
a  r  ins  iiluwt  her 

/III-/:'      II  l,ll      t,'ixS,S 

In  r. 

Mrx.  lliiirnrd.  I 
have  enjo_yed  get- 
ting it  up  for  you, 
deai-.  Now  run  back 
to  your  throne  and 
lei  me  arrange  your 
dress.  I  will  retire 
in  order  to  put  the 
finishing  touches  on 
the  table. 
[Ej-it  Mrs.  Howard. 

di  in  fii  re.  Mo- 
ther's adarling,  Hal; 
isn't  she?  Do  you 
know,  you  make  the 
sweetrst  little  page? 
I  shall  be  very  severe 
with  you.  I  shall 
say:  "Boy,  dost  hear 
a  knock?  Hun  an 
thy  life  depended 
on't."  And  then  you 
must  be  very  obedi- 
ent and  run. 

llmri/  I  Jut.  Geri. 
Ihey  u  ill  i  inu.  won't 
tlie\  ''  lluw  ran  they 
knock? 

Generiere.  Foolish 
boy!  What  matters 
it?  In  olden  times 
they  had  no  bells. 
knockers.  You 
must  introduce  those 


IMDEPENDENCE    AXD    HER    PAGE. 


I  lint    come    not     by 


274 


HAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


their  real  names,  but  by  the  name  on  the  shield.  Present  them 
to  me.  Say,  "Miss  Massachusetts,  let  me  present  you  to  the 
Spirit  of  Independence."  Say  it  over  now. 

Harry.  Oh,  don't  fuss,  Gen.  I'll  do  my  part  all  right.  Mam- 
ma's 'structed  me,  you  know. 

Genevieve.  Jnstructed,  Hal.     Well,  just  say  it,  please;  that's  a 
good  boy.     (Ring  at  bell.)     Oh,  run,  Hal;  and  now  don't  forget. 
[Harry  flies  to  the  door  and  opens  it.      Genevieve  smooths  her 
dress  mill  liin/,-x  dignified, 

Enter  Elinor  and  Marguerite. 

Harry.  Hulloa,  girls!  You've  first.  Sis,  here's  Elinor  and 
Marguerite. 

Genevieve  (sternly).  Boy,  are  these  thy  manners? 

Iliirrij.  Oh,  I  forgot.  Let's  see  who  you  are.  Misses  New 
Hampshire  and  Rhode  Island,  I  present  you  (with  a  flourish  and 
bow)  to  the  Spirit  of  Independence.  Say,  Gen,  was  that  right? 

Genevieve.  Splendid,  Hal.  (Rises,  but  stands  still.)  You  must 
come  to  me,  of  course.  I  can't  leave  my  throne.  Welcome,  la- 
dies— I  mean  States.  No— Colonies.  Take  the  third  and  fourth 
chairs  in  the  New  England  Section.  You  are  come  to  celebrate 
Washington's  birthday.  How  nice  you  look,  girls!  I'm  going 
to  call  you  (addressing  Rhode  Island)  Little  Rhody  after  this;  the 
character  fits  you  so  well. 

Rhode  Island.  Yes,  I  think  I  am  becoming.  Who  did  your 
hair,  Nellie? 

Net*  Hampshire.  Mother.     Who  did  yours? 

Rhode  Island.  A  regular  hair-dresser.  I  don't  see  but  yours 
looks  just  as  well,  and  you  didn't  pay  fifty  cents,  did  you? 

[Ring. 

Genevieve.  Hush,  girls.     Sit  up. 

Enter  New  Jersey  and  Delaware. 

U' 1 1' ri/ (grandly).  The  two  Colonies  of  New  Jersey  and  Dela- 
ware. This  is  my  sister,  the  Spirit  of  Independence.  Go  up  to 
her  and  make  your  prettiest  bow.  She  is  the  President  of  the 
Convention. 

Genevieve.  Welcome,  ladies. 

Harry.  They  ain't  ladies.  Gen. 

Genevieve.  Of  course.  But  don't  say  ain't,  Hal.  Welcome, 
Colonies.  Take  the  sixth  and  eighth  chairs  in  the  Central  Sec- 
tion. You  are  to  sit  in  geographical  order. 

[The  girls  greet  each  other,  and  New  Jersey  and  Delaware  sit 
in  the  chairs  indicated. 

New  Jersey.  Are  we  late,  girls?  It  took  so  long  to  do  up  my 
hair,  I  thought  I  should  never  get  here  in  time.  I  met  Isabel 
just  at  the  door. 

Delaware.  Marguerite,  you  never  looked  better  in  your  life. 

New  Hampshire.  She's  Little  Rhody — small  but  sweet. 

[Kisses  her. 

Delaware.  Diamonds  are  small  but  precious,  my  dear.  She's 
just  too  cunning  for  anything.  [Ring. 

Enter  five  girls,  the  entire  Southern  Section. 

Harry.  Here's  Miss  Maryland,  and  Virginia,  and  North  Caro- 
lina, and  South  Carolina,  and  Georgia.  A  whole  lot  of  'em,  Gen. 
Go  up  and  bow  to  Gen.  She's  the  Spirit  of  Independence. 

[The  five  girls  advance  and  greet  Genevieve  and  the  other 
Colonies. 

Maryland.  We  are  "the  solid  South."  We  met  at  my  house 
and  dressed,  and  did  up  each  other's  hair,  and  came  in  one  car- 
riage. 

ffenevieve.  Welcome.  Southern  sisters.  You  are  in  lime  for 
our  Convention.  Tbo.se  are  your  seats  in  the  Third  Section.  Sit 
in  geographical  order,  please.  So.  You  bore  a  very  important 
part  in  the  war,  I  believe. 

All  Five  Southern  Colonies.   Indeed  we  did. 

Virginia.  Where  are  the  rest?    I  thought  we  were  late. 

[Ring. 

North  Carolina.  There's  somebody  now. 

Enter  Florence  (New  York),  Maud  (Massachusetts),  and  Gladys 
(Connecticut). 

Harry.  Ladies — oh,  1  mean  girls — no.  Colonies — let  me  present 
you  to  my  sister,  the  Spirit  of  Independence. 

Connecticut.  Oh,  my,  Hill,  what  a  sweet  page  you  make!  Aren't 
you  going  to  kiss  me,  dear? 

[Catches  Harry  in  her  arms.    Harry  struggles  violently  to  be 
free.     Genevieve  raps  her  wand  and  calls. 

Genevieve.  Order!  order!  The  page  is  not  to  be  kissed  by  the 
Colonies.  Advance,  sister  Colonies,  to  our  throne,  and  join  the 
Convention. 

Connecticut  (who  has  set  Harry  down,  and  is  laughing  heartilu). 
I  beg  your  pardon,  dear.  I  was  overcome  by  his  beauty,  and  lost 
my  heart  on  the  spot. 

Genevieve.  I  shall  send  you  a  copy  of  your  own  Blue  Laws  to 
read.  Kissing  wasn't  allowed  in  your  Colony. 

Connecticut.  Not  even  of  pretty  pages?    But  those  Blue  Laws 
are  a  fiction,  a  pure  myth,  I  do  assure  you.     How  de  do,  girls? 
[The  new-comers  greet  tJuise  already  there,  and  sit  in  their  re- 
spective chairs. 

Massachusetts.   Who  is  missing?     There's  one  empty  chair. 

Genevieve.  Pennsylvania  hath  not  yet  honored  our  invitation. 
She  tarries. 


Connect/cut.  Oh,  Gen,  you're  immense!  Our.'  Isn't  she  royal? 
Let  me  see.  Pennsylvania  is  the  Colony  in  which  Philadelphia  is 
situated.  You  can't  expect  her  to  be  up  to  the  times.  Always  a 
trifle  behind,  is  it  not? 

[All  laugh  and  say  "  Oh,  Gladys.'"    Ring. 

Geneviete.  There  she  is  now. 
Enter  Pennsylvania,  dressed  in  Quaker  costume — gray  dress,  white 

/in in//. 'I'irhief  folded  across  her  brm.it.  mnt  bonnet.     Harry  stares. 

Hiirry.   I  say.  Gen,  this  one  don't  belong  to  the  party.     She 


ain't  dressed  right.     (To  Emma.)     Say,  are  you  invited  here? 

~~rell.  I  {_ 
parties  unless  I  am  invited.     I'm  a  Quaker,  because  my  colony 


/'  itnxiiii 


guess  I  don't  go  to 


(drawing  herself  up).   Well. 
1.     I'n 

was  settled  by  William  Penn.  a  Quaker,  Mr.  Hal.     Mamma  sug- 
gested it,  and  I  thought  it  real  nice.     Do  you  care,  Gen? 

Genevieve.  No  indeed!  That  is,  I  do  care,  because  it  was  such 
a  happy  idea  of  your  mother's,  Emma.  It  makes  a  change,  and, 
as  you  say,  it  is  so  appropriate.  Approach,  Colony  of  Pennsyl- 
vania. Greet  your  sisters,  and  take  the  vacant  chair. 

[Pennsylvania  shakes  hands  demurely  with  the  other  girls,  bows 
to  Genevieve,  and  sits  down. 

Pennsylvania.  Am  I  last?     I  did  not  mean  to  be  late. 

New  York.  We  were  saying  that  we  should  expect  Philadel- 
phia's State  to  be  a  bit  slow. 

Pennsylvania.  You  sinner!  Is  it  in  order,  Gen,  to  shake  Flor- 
ence for  instituting  comparisons?  Anyhow,  my  police  department 
isn't  so  corrupt  as  yours. 

Genevieve.  Girls,  your  time  is  a  hundred  years  ago.  And  you 
are  not  cities,  but  colonies.  I  don't  know  that  they  had  any  police 
at  all  in  those  days.  Now  the  Convention  is  about  to  begin. 
Hal,  you  need  not  stay.  You  won't  be  interested  in  the  solid  his- 
tory that  is  coming  now. 

Harry  (in  a  griered  tone).  Well,  I  guess!  A  fellow  likes  solid 
things  as  well  as  girls  do.  I'm  going  to  stay,  and  I  won't  disturb 
nothing. 

Genevieve.  Not  nothing;  anything,  Hal.  You  may  stay  if  you 
will  sit  here  at  my  feet  and  keep  quiet.  (Harry  takes  the  position 
indicated.  Genevieve  takes  a  paper  front  her  pocket  and  reads.) 
This  Convention  of  the  thirteen  original  Colonies  is  called,  fir.-t, 
to  have  a  good  time;  second,  for  our  mutual  improvement. 
We  have  just  finished  our  great  struggle  with  the  mother-coun- 
try. It.  is  fitting  to  pause  and  review  briefly  the  parts  you  sus- 
tained in  the  war.  Don't  forget  the  part  which  1  had.  If  the 
spirit  of  independence  had  not  pervaded  the  breasts  of  your  sons 
and  daughters,  you  would  have  been  contented  to  live  and  die 
slaves  to  a  monstrous  English  tyranny!  (Applause.)  That  tea 
parly  in  Boston  Harbor  would  never  have  been  held. 

Massachusetts.  Don't  steal  my  thunder,  please. 

Gcnemeve.  Hush!  Papa  wrote  this  for  me.  Where  would  be 
the  crowds  that  yearly  ascend  Bunker  Hill  Monument? 

i  'qnnectieut.   Was  Bunker  Hill  Monument  built  in  1783? 

Gcnerit'i-c  (ilisrei/ni'iUiig  the  interruption).  Wheie  Valley  Forge 
and  the  crossing  of  the  Delaware?  Yes.  Colonies,  you  owe  it  all 
to  me.  (Applause.  Genevieve  bows.)  Now,  girls,  I'm  going  to 
recite  an  address  of  welcome  that  mother  wrote  for  me. 

Welcome,  sisters  bright  and  young, 
Wearing  morning's  air  of  strength  ; 

Trips  the  measure  from  my  tongue, 
Love  in  all  its  breadth  and  length. 

Welcome  on  this  happy  day 

When  our  greatest  chief  was  born. 

I,  a  child  upon   the  way, 

Share  his  splendid  birthday  morn. 

We  will  now  hear  from  Massachusetts. 

Rhode  Island.  Why  don't  you  begin  with  Maine? 

Massachusetts  (ruinij).  Because  I  include  Maine.  The  charter 
granted  to  Massachusetts  Bay  Colony  by  William  and  Mary  in- 
cluded Maine  and  Nova  Scotia.  Not  until  1820  was  Maine  ad- 
mitted as  a  separate  State. 

Rhode  Island.  Well,  that's  news  to  me. 

Massachusetts.  I  confess  tliat  it  was  to  me  till  within  one  week. 
Gen,  you  want  us  to  make  a  short  story,  don't  you? 

Geneviete.  Yes,  very  short,  and  not  too  dry.  We  are  supposed 
to  know  about  the  details. 

Massachusetts.  Well,  the  Stamp  Act  roused  my  people.  It  was 
the  match  which  lighted  the  fire  of  a  great  conflagration. 

Gladys.   Hear!  hear! 

Massachusetts.  Then  came  the  tea  party,  the  battles  of  Lexington. 
Concord,  and  Bunker  Hill.  I  wish  I  had  time  to  read  you  "  Paul 
Revere's  Ride."  The  rough  troops  which  my  farmers  provided 
shut  up  the  British  soldiers  in  Boston.  Washington  came  upon 
the  scene,  and  forced  the  British  to  evacuate.  They  went  away 
in  their  ships  one  night.  After  this  I  sent  men  and  money  to  the 
war  which  went  on  in  other  Colonies.  Samuel  Adams  and  John 
Hancock  were  among  my  great  men.  I  say,  Gen,  was  that  brief 
enough? 

Genevieve.  Almost  too  brief,  Maud.  But  it's  a  good  example 
to  set  the  others.  (All  the  girls  applaud.)  New  Hampshire  is  next 
in  order,  and  she  will  tell  her  part  in  the  war. 


FEBRUARY  19,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


275 


New  Hampshire.  I  can't  find  that  I  had  much  of  any  part. 
There  were  General  Stark,  and  my  400  militia,  nncl  the  Green 
Mountain  boys  who  defeated  a  large  army  under  Colonel  Baum, 
sent  by  Burgoyne.  They  lost  800  men,  we  54.  It  was  my 
hero  Stark  who  said  before  the  battle,  "There  they  are,  boys; 
we  must  beat  them  to-day,  or  this  night  Molly  Stark's  a  widow." 

Genevieve.  Nothing  to  be  modest  about  in  that.  Do  you  re- 
member when  Vermont  was  separated  from  New  York? 

New  Hampshire.  In  1701. 

Harry.  She's  good  on  dates. 

[Harry  is  now  discvvcml  />>/  >'  mii'l'ling  sound  t<>  be  ml  ing  pea- 
nuts. 

Genevieve.  Boy,  that  is  not  in  order.  Do  you  think  Daniel 
Webster  ate  peanuts  cm  the  floor  of  the  Continental  Congress? 
Hal.  if  you're  tired,  don't  stay,  dear. 

Harry.  All  right,  I  won't  eat  no  more  peanuts.  But,  Sis,  Dan- 
iel Webster  wasn't  a  member  of  the  Continental  O/ni/n. •<.•<. 

Genevieve.  I  meant  Thomas  Jefferson.  {Admiringly.)  What  a 
lot  of  history  you  do  know,  Hal! 

Harry.  You  bet! 

Genevieve.  I  shall  next  ask  Connecticut  to  speak. 

Connecticut.  Do  you  girls  know  why  our  nation  is  called  Bro- 
ther Jonathan?  Well,  I  furnished  that  nickname.  Jonathan 
Trumbull  was  my  sturdy  Governor  at.  the  opening  of  the  war, 
and  Washington  loved  him  so  much  he  called  him  Brother  Jona- 
than. So  his  name  was  bequeathed  to  the  country.  I  think  that's 
glory  enough  for  me.  (Sits,  but  rises  again.)  Oh  no,  I  forgot 
Nathan  Hale,  the  spy,  whose  statue  has  lately  been  set  up  in  New- 
York.  His  home  was  in  Connecticut.  I  will  just  say  that  in 
proportion  to  my  population  and  means  I  furnished  more  for  the 
•war  than  any  other  Colony 

Genevieve.  Do  you  remember  what  Nathan  Hale  said  on  his 
way  to  his  execution? 

Harry  (raising  his  hand).  Oh,  let  me  tell  that.  He  said,  "  My 
•only  regret  is  that  I  have  but  one  life  to  give  for  my  country." 

Geneviere.  Right.     Now,  Little  Rhody,  what  have  you  lo  say? 

Rhode  Maud.   What  I  am  going  lo  say  is  in  poetry.       [Recites. 

A  pearl   upon   my  bosom  old  Newport  toun   I   wear, 

You  have  heard  the  merry  music  of  the  billows  breaking  there. 

Once  the  red-coats  danced  and  flirted  with  Tories  sweet  and  fair, 
And  for  three  whole  years  the  patriots  shunned  Newport  iu  despair. 

And  just  beyond  my  coast-line  were  great  battles  on  the  sea. 
And  the  lightning  and   the  thunder    burst  fouglit  the  foernen  of  tlie 
free. 

And  you  know  that  in  the  honor  roll  of  great  men  gone  is  seen, 
.Starred   there   by  smali  Rhode  Island,  the  name  of  General  Greene. 

[.-IK  appluiiil. 

Genevieve.  That's  lovely,  Marguerite.  Now  we  will  hear  from 
the  Middle  Section,  and  first,  of  course,  from  New  York. 

-New  York.  Well,  I  bore  a  very  important  part  of  t  he  war.  owing 
to  my  position  and  size.  My  forts  were  almost  the  key  to  the  coun- 
try. Both  armies  hovered  over  the  Hudson  River,  first  oil  one 
side,  then  on  the  other.  When  the  news  of  the  Declaration  of  In- 
dependence was  received,  my  people  pulled  down  the  leaden  sta- 
tue of  George  III.  iu  the  Battery  (New  York  city),  and  melted  it 
into  bullets.  The  Mohawk  Valley  was  now  for  the  first  time 
cleared  of  Indians  by  General  Sullivan  and  3000  men  This  was 
a  good  thing  for  New  York  and  everybody  else,  for  the  Indians 
who  had  always  lived  there  were  the  Six  Nations,  the  bravest 
and  most  cruel  of  them  all.  In  August,  1787,  at  Fort  Stanwix 
{now  Rome,  New  York),  the  first  American  flag  was  raised.  It 
has  been  adopted  by  Congress.  It  was  made  of  alternate  stripes 
of  a  red  flannel  petticoat  and  a  white  shirt,  the  field  being  cut 
out  of  an  old  blue  overcoat. 

Harry.  Jolly!     I  wish  I  could  see  it. 

Geneviere.  Girls,  you  are  doing  splendidly.  You  enter  right 
into  the  spirit  of  it. 

Pennsylvania.  It's  simply  fun.     We  learn  so  much! 

Genevieve.  It's  your  turn  now,  New  Jersey. 

New  Jersey.  I  suffered  more  than  any  other  Colony.  Washing- 
ton's headquarters  were  part  of  the  time  in  Morrislown,  and  he 
and  his  troops  were  all  over  that  part  of  the  Colony  You  can  en- 
ter scarcely  a  farm-house  that  does  not  proudly  show  its  chair  in 
which  Washington  sat,  or  its  table  from  which  he  ate,  or  its  well 
from  which  he  drank.  I  think  I  may  truly  s;iy  the  cause  of  the 
colonies  could  never  have  been  won  without  me. 

Harry.   Modest! 

Genevieve.  That's  all  right.  We  want  facts.  We  will  now 
liear  from  our  sister  Delaware. 

Delaware.  Girls,  I  have  not  much  of  a  Revolutionary  history. 
I  was  one  of  the  smaller  Colonies,  and  was  removed  from  the  im- 
mediate seat  of  war.  But  I  did  my  part  in  money  and  troops. 

Genevieve.  You  are  one  of  the  loyal  thirteen,  Isabel,  and  your 
star  on  the  flag  is  as  big  as  New  York's.  Now,  Sister  Pennsyl- 
vania, what  is  your  record  ? 

Pennsylvania.  A  long  and  glorious  one.  But  in  the  telling  I 
will  make  it  short.  The  Continental  Congress  met  in  my  Colony. 


I  own  the  Liberty  Bell  which  proclaimed  to  the  country  the  Dee 
laration  of  Independence.  May  I  tell  you  about  that  "in  a  little 
poem  of  my  own  ? 

A  silent  bell  in  an  idle  tower, 

Slack  and  slender  the  tenuous  rope, 
And  drooping  beside  it  a  graybeard  pale, 

With  eyes  that  had  lost  the  look  of  hope. 

Down   below,  in   the  thronging  streets, 

Women  and  children  and  grave-faced  men, 

Surging  like  waves,  the  waiting  crowds, 
And  every  moment  as  long  as  ten. 

For  the  silent  bell  in  the  idle  tower 

Hay  break  into  peals  so  glad  and   free  ; 

Their  sound  shall  scatter  the  spells  of  greed, 
And  carry  brave  tidings  across  the  sea. 

Out  from  the  throng  a  blue-eyed  boy 

Rushes,  flushes,  waving  his  hand. 
"Ring!  ring  !"  he  cries.     And  the  old  man  hears, 

And  the  great  bell  peals  o'er  the  grateful  hind. 

(Applause.)  Benjamin  Franklin  was  my  honored  son.  Valley 
Forge,  Germantown,  Brandy  wine,  Wyoming  Valley,  could  all  tell 
an  exciting  tale,  some  of  victory,  all  of  honor,  if  1  had  time. 

[Applause. 

New  York.  Good  for  the  Quaker  State! 

Genevieve.  Maryland,  my  dear,  let  us  hear  from  you. 

Maryland.  Baltimore,  as  you  know,  was  the  scene  of  a  great 
ovation  to  Washington  when  he  was  on  his  march  south  to  en- 
trap Cornwallis.  The  city  held  a  banquet  in  his  honor,  and  in 
every  possible  way  showed  her  sympathy  and  desire  to  help  the 
national  cause.  In  1790  I  ceded  sixty  square  miles  of  my  terri- 
tory for  a  national  capital,  the  present  District  of  Columbia.  It 
was  to  the  Colonial  Congress  in  Annapolis,  in  1783,  that  Wash- 
ington resigned  his  commission  as  Commander-in-chief. 
And  now,  Virginia. 


Virginia.  I  had  many  splendid  Generals,  among  them  Richard 
Henry  Lee  and  Daniel  Morgan.  The  closing  scenes  of  the  war 
took  place  on  my  ground.  Yorktowu  is  where  Cornwallis  stir 
rendered  to  Washington.  Since  Washington  is  my  son,  I  thought 
you  would  rather  see  him  in  person  to-day  than  hear  about  him. 
So  I  invited  him  to  come  and  bring  his  friend,  the  Marquis  de- 
Lafayette. 
Enter  George  Washington  and  Lafayette,  alth-ul  in  Continental 

costumes.     They  bow  to  the  Spirit  of  Independence,  wf.o  ji/nin/if 

shows  her  pleased  surprise     She  and  all  the  Colonies  rix,  ,nnl  hmr, 

then  resume  their  seats. 

Virginia.  Behold  the  Father  of  his  Country  whose  birthday  we 
are  celebrating!  A  modest  but  brave  man.  And  this  his  friend 
is  one  of  the  most  polished  gentlemen  and  brave  soldiers  of  his 
day. 

Generiere.  You  arc  most,  welcome,  sirs.  We  are  honored.  Jo 
sephine,  what  a  lovely  idea! 

Wiixliiiii/tiin.  I  am  pleased  to  attend  this  Convention.  Nobody 
was  more  surprised  than  I  when  the  nation  called  me  to  be  its 
chief  commander.  Once  having  accepted  the  trust,  I  did  every- 
thing in  my  power  towards  success  Our  troops  were  often  poor- 
ly clad  and  ill  provisioned.  I  suffered  from  hunger  and  cold  with 
my  men.  But  I  always  looked  straight  ahead,  sure  of  final  vic- 
tory. The  people  were  behind  me,  and  I  never  gave  up  hope. 
My  friend  here  was  of  immense  service.  I  shall  never  forget  it 
of  him.  [Bom  to  Lafayette. 

Lafayette  How  could  I  see  this  gallant  struggle  without  com- 
ing to  your  aid?  I  have  a  soldier's  love  for  a  fight.  Besides, 
England  was  our  enemy,  and  we  were  glad  to  see  her  worsted. 

Genevieve.  Had  we  known,  sirs,  that  we  were  to  be  favored 
with  your  company,  we  would  have  provided  chairs  for  your 
worships.  As  it  is,  will  you  stand  near  our  throne  while  we'pro- 
ceed  with  the  important  matters  of  the  Convention? 

Harry.  You  can  sit  down  with  me  if  you  want  to 

[The  tiro  Generals  seat  themselves  an  the  plat  fo-rm. 

Genevieve.  We  have  yet  to  hear  from  the  remaining  Southern 
Colonies. 

Georgia.   Oli  !   hearts  were  strong  in  the  strife  with  wrong 

In  those  simple  days  gone  by, 

When,  our  troth-plight  given,  we  challenged  Heaven 
To  see  how  the  brave  eould  die. 

Where  the  spice  winds  blow  o'er  the  waving  snow  of  the  cotton-field 

in  bloom, 
Where  the   mocking-bird   is   at    daydawn    heard,  where   the   sudden 

thunders  gloom, 
Where  the  bright  waves  plash,  and  the  torrents  dash,  and  the  solemn 

pine-trees  stand 
Like  sentries  tall  in  a  sombre  wall  —  there  is  our  Southern  land. 

South  Carolina.  The  campaigns  of  the  South  were  hotly  con- 
tested. Savannah  and  Augusta  were  first  captured  by  the  Brit- 
ish. then  Charleston,  till  Georgia  and  myself  were  under  British 
control.  But  we  were  hard  to  hold.  Suinter,  Marion,  and  other 


276 


HARPER'S    YOUNG    PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


'ORDER!    ORDER!    THE    PAGE    IS    NOT    TO    BE    KISSED    BF    THE    COLONIES.' 


Southern  leaders  made  their  headquarters  in  the  swamps,  and  sal- 
lying forth  when  least  expected,  harassed  and  bothered  the  British 
troops  like  swarms  of  hornets.  Marion  was  like  a  meteor  iu  the 
swiftness  and  daring  of  his  raids.  Cornwallis  feared  him  above 
all  others.  Bessie,  you  tell  the  story  of  Marion  as  a  host  that  we 
were  reading  together. 

North  Carolina.  A  British  officer  having  occasion  to  arrange 
some  matters  of  business  with  Marion,  was  invited  by  him  to 
dinner.  He  had  been  charmed  by  the  grace  and  dignity  of  his 
host  already,  and  he  gladly  accepted  the  invitation.  The  meal 
consisted  only  of  baked  sweet-potatoes  served  on  bark.  No  apol- 
ogy was  made,  but  the  guest  could  not  help  exclaiming,  "Surely, 
General,  this  is  not  your  ordinary  fare?"  "  Indeed  it  is,"  replied 
Marion;  "but  having  to-day  the  honor  of  your  company,  we  are 
so  happy  as  to  have  more  than  our  usual  allowance."  The  officer 
returned  to  Charleston  and  resigned  his  commission,  saying  that 
America  could  never  be  conquered  while  served  by  such  men. 

South  Carolina.  Our  women  were  brave.  When  British  offi- 
cers had  taken  possession  of  one  woman's  house,  she  brought 
with  her  own  hands  a  bow  and  arrows  to  the  American  officer, 
and  bade  him  send  (ire-brands  by  shooting  the  arrows  on  the 
wooden  roof.  She  stood  by  watching  her  home  burn  till  the 
British  were  forced  to  surrender  themselves  prisoners. 

Geneyieve.  Well,  girls,  aren't  you  glad  you  had  such  a  glorious 
record?  For  my  pan  — 

Indian  Girl.     She  is  slowly  and  mournfully  chanting  to 
htrsi  If. 

INDIAN    GIRL'S    COMPLAINT. 

I  lament,  I  lament,  that  my  people  no  more 

Rule  forest  and  mountain  from  East  unto  West; 

Like  the  chaff  that  is   winnowed  and  swept  from  the  floor, 
Have  faded  and  vanished  our  brave  and  our  best. 

No  longer  our  hunting-grounds  ring  to  the  sliout 
Of  the  young  men  returning  full-lmiidcd  and  gay! 

Our  chiefs  on  the  war-path  no  longer  go  out, 
And  cold  is  the  fire  in  wigwams  to-day. 

I  lament,  I  lament,  that  the  star  of  my  race 

Has  sunk  in  deep  waters;    no  more  shall  it  rise. 

Iu  shame  and  ill  sorrow  I'm  hiding  my   face, 
Alas !    and  alas !   for  our  desolate  skies. 

[Seats  herself  on  the  floor. 


Rhode  Isliinit  (rn  nninr/  to  her  and 
Tier  hand).  Never  mind,  you  poor  thing.  We 
are  all  dreadfully  sorry  that  we  had  to  take 
j'our  lands.  But  we  had  to,  you  know.  We 
will  take  care  of  you.  and  send  you  missiona- 
ries, and  food,  and  blankets. 

|  s  nix  In  /'self  beside  Indian  Girl. 
Oenevieve.    Girls,  this  is    another   genuine 
surprise.      Positively,  I  knew  nothing  about 
it.     But  I  think  it  is"  beautiful. 

All.   Beautiful. 

Eiiti-r  the  Prophetess.  She  comes  in  lumini/ 
<ni  n  cin/e.  Slowly  nil  ninci  ni/,  x/u  i-nids  the 
JIII/HIX  of  each  girl's  hands.  While  (loin;/  .»<> 
she  sometimes  nhaki-x  her  head,  at  utln  r  times 
i/iHl.t  it  iti!  SHI  ilt, *.  She  also  reads  Geuevieve's 
lnuiilx,  and  lastly  those  of  the  two  Generals 
nut/  Harry.  Harry  is  half  nffniil  of  her, 
mid  shrinks  innii/,  hut  nt  I  iujtli  fmixi  nit. 
to  have  his  hand  examined.  Then  the  Pro- 
phetess irarcx  her  enne.  faces  the  audience, 
and  says  (her  voice  trembling  etnd  crackling 
as  if  with  mje)  : 

To-day  thirteen,  'tis  true,  and  weak  and  small, 
But  forty-four,  a  stalwart  tioop  to-morrow  ! 

With   kings  and  chieftains  at  your  doors  to  call, 
And  fain    your  wealtli    and  skill  and  hope  to 
borrow. 

I  see  how  one  by  one  the  tongues  of  men 
Are  merged  in  that  grand  voice  that  yet  will 

reach 

To  every  coast,  till  all  the  world  shall  ken 
The    golden    strength    of    our    dear    English 
speech. 

I  see  the  white  church  spire  on  every  hill, 
The  school-house  nestling   in    each    low  green 
valley. 

And,  growing  up,  serene  in  might  and  will, 
A  throng  of  men  at  freedom's  word  to  rally. 

I  see  a  sudden  wave  of  battle  break 

Frowning  and  dark  across  the  peaceful  l;nid! 

Then  wrong  goes  down  !     Then  righteous  forces 

make 
Stronger  the  nation,  joining  hand  in  hand. 

Harry.   Well,  I  never! 

Kntir  Mrs.  Howard. 

Mrs.  H'nr, !,•<!.  I  tliiuk  it  is  about  lime  for  this  Convention  to 
adjourn  to  the  dining-room.  Will  the  Spirit  of  Independence 
invite  these  distinguished  gentlemen,  and  all  the  others,  to  par- 
lake  of  refreshments? 

l.ii-niticrc.  Oh,  mamma,  if  we  were  to  do  this  over  again,  we 
could  almost  make  a  little  play  of  it.  Couldn't  we,  girls? 

Oirls.  Indeed  we  could. 

Genn-ii  r, .   We  invite  all  present  to  partake  of  our  simple  fare. 

Harry.  Cannot  I  speak  my  piece,  Qenevieve? 

Genenne.  Oh,  yes,  I  forgot.  The  Page  will  close  these  exer- 
cises by  saying  an  ode  to  the  flag.  And  after  each  verse  we 
will  all  sing  the  chorus,  "  Three  Cheers  for  the  Red,  White, 
and  Blue!"  And  then  we  will  have  a  feast  in  the  dining-roorn. 

Harry.   Hail,  flag  of  our  Union, 
Dear  flag  of  the  free  ! 
In  every  heart-throb  we're 

Devoted  to  thee. 
Let  foemen  assail  tliee, 
We'll  rush  to  deiVnd, 
For  the  banner  of  freedom 
Is  every  man's  friend. 
CHORDS. 

Dear  flag  of  our  Union, 

Thy  stars  are  alight 
With  the  glory  and  hope 

Of  the  dawn  after  night. 
A  torch  in  the  darkness, 
Outstreaming  and  free; 
All  nations  and  pjoples 
Are  turning  to  thee. 
CHORUS. 

CURTAIN  FALLS. 

(While  it  is  falling.  Virginia  sni/a.) 
Girls,  the  whole  thing  has  been  simply  delicious. 
A/1.   Simply  delicious. 

THE    END. 


FEBRUARY  19,  1S95. 


HARPEB'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


277 


THE    OVEN. 


A   GIRL'S   COOKING-SCHOOL   WITHOUT  A 
FIRE. 

MANY  a  girl  who  goes  once  a  week  to  her  cooking- 
class  and  stands  over  a  hot  fire  for  two  or  three 
hours  trying  to  make  the  bread,  the  chops,  the  croquettes, 
and  all  the  other  parts  of  the  "lunch"  just  as  the  teach- 
er has  bidden,  would  be 
very  much  surprised  if  she 
went  into  a  certain  cook- 
ing-school in  London. 
There  they  cook  lunches 
and  dinners  and  break- 
fasts and  suppers,  and 
nowhere  is  there  to  be 
seen  a  sign  of  stove,  range, 
coal,  wood,  or  fire.  In 
fact,  the  only  things  in  the 
room  beyond  the  ordinary 
number  of  chairs  and  ta- 
bles are  two  queer-looking 
burglar  -  proof  safes.  If 
you  happened  in  there 

while  cooking  was  going  on  you  would  see  the  teach- 
er standing  by  the  ordinary  kitchen  table,  rolling  some 
dough,  perhaps,  and  ranged  along  the  edge  of  that  same 
table  there  might  be,  first,  a  copper  or  steel  platform 
with  dishes  standing  on  it,  then  a  little  tiny  griller,  next 
a  teakettle  on  a  little  copper  stand.  Beside  this  a  sauce- 
pan, and  then  a  frying-pan.  While  the  teacher  calmly 
rolls  out  the  dough,  the  griller  holds  up  a  chop  that  is 
smoking  away  and  simmering  merrily.  In  the  frying- 
pan  potatoes  are  frying.  In  the  saucepan  something  is 
stewing  at  a  great  rate.  Steam  is  coming  out  of 
the  kettle,  and  you,  in  amazement,  walking  up  to  the 
platform  holding  the  plates,  snatch  your  fingers  away 
quickly  after  touching  it  to  see  what  is  doing  all  this, 
and  in  a  moment  there  is  a  little  white  swelling  on  that 
finger  which  did  the  touching.  And  all  this  without 
fire,  without  anything  but  some  carefully  protected  wires 
that  are  hitched  to  the  legs  of  the  griller,  the  handle  of 
the  frying-pan,  and  different  parts  of  all  the  other  things. 
Of  course  it  is  simple  enough.  There  are  half  a  do/t-n 
electric  lights  in  each  room  in  the  house,  and  this  in- 
genious teacher  has  attached  wires  to  the  electric  main 
which  furnishes  the  electric  lights.  Each  set  of  wires 
thus  attached  is  fastened  to  one  of  the  cooking  utensils 
or  to  the  little  stand  upon  which  it  rests,  and  the  pan  or 
griller  or  stand  is  thus  heated  just  as  the  tiny  platinum 
wire  loop  inside  the  electric-light  burner  is.  Only,  as  the 
griller  is  much  larger  than  the  platinum  wire,  and  iron 
or  copper  is  harder  to  heat  than  platinum,  the  griller 
•does  not  get  white-hot,  or  even  red-hot,  but  just  hot— hot 
enough  to  raise  the  blister  just  mentioned  on  your  finger. 
Up  out  of  the  floor  come  the  wires  from  the  electric 
main,  and  then  each  little  cooking  apparatus  has  its  own 
particular  set  of  wires,  and  there  are  six  little  knobs  for 
•connecting  and  breaking  the  circuit  for  each  set,  placed 
just  under  the  top  of  the  table.  The  cleanliness,  the  sim- 
plicity, and  the  convenience  of  the  whole  thing  are  re- 
markable, and  if  you  really  should  happen  to  belong  to 
some  cooking-school  here  in  America,  and  go  to  London 
and  see  this  school,  you  would  be  thunder-struck,  and 
made  quite  unfit  to  come  back  to  the  hot  range  and  the 
draughts  and  the  coal  and  wood  and  the  lighting  of  fires. 
But  this  is  only  half  of  the  strange  things  that  happen 
in  this  most  modern  of  cooking-schools. 

The  two  burglar-proof  safes  that  were  the  only  things 
seen  in  the— it  would  hardly  do  to  call  it  "  kitchen  "- 
•cooking-room  when  you  entered  turn  out  to  be  nothing 
more  than  electric  ovens.  They  are  so  constructed  that 
the  half-dozen  shelves  inside  them  which  are  attached  to 
wires,  just  as  the  utensils  on  the  table  are,  can  be  heated 


to  any  degree  of  heat  without  altering  the  temperature  of 
the  safe  or  oven  itself.  Here  you  can  set  plates  of  bread 
or  roasts,  or  anything  that  can  be  cooked  or  warmed  in  an 
oven.  Then  closing  the  door,  you  turn  on  a  certain 
amount  of  electric  current  through  the  wires  that  are 
attached  to  shelf  No.  1,  and  the  plates  are  warmed.  To 
shelf  No.  2  the  wires  carry  more  heat,  and  something  is 
roasted  in  no  time,  and  so  on  down  through  the  half- 
dozen  shelves— all  done  by  the  turning  of  little  knobs,  in- 
stead of  carrying  coal,  and  putting  paper  and  wood 
underneath  it,  and  lighting  matches,  burning  your  fin- 
gers, and  blowing  half  your  lungs  away. 

Imagine  what  fun  and  how  easy  such  a  class-room 
would  be !  And  it  is  not  so  impossible  as  it  seems,  for 
should  the  building  in  which  your  cooking-class  meets  be 
lighted  by  electricity,  it  is  comparatively  inexpensive,  real- 
ly cheaper  in  the  end,  tohave  your  "fire"  furnished  in  this 
way.  There  would  be  nothing  of  the  disagreeable  part 
of  the  cooking,  and  only  the  interesting  part.  Of  course 
there  would  be  chances  for  making  mistakes,  as  there 
probably  will  be  in  everything  we  do,  but  the  mistakes 
in  this  case  would  be  that  you  might  turn  on  the  wrong 
knob  and  cook  the  plates,  and  only  warm  the  raw  beef. 
Then,  too,  there  would  have  to  be  a  good  deal  of  care 
given  to  the  wires,  because  if  you  happen  to  get  the  cir- 
cuit through  your  body  instead  of  through  one  of  the 
pans,  that  would  "cook  your  goose"  for  all  time.  The 
danger  of  this,  however,  is  very  slight,  because  the  wires 
are  carefully  covered,  and  they  are  kept  out  of  the  way 
entirely,  except  just  where  they  have  to  be  attached  to  the 
pans  and  stands. 

What  a  fine  time  the  cooks  will  have  when  the  day  of 
these  strange  stoves  comes!  No  getting  up  early  to  get 
the  fire  started;  no  coal  to  carry;  nothing  to  do  but  turn 
a  knob,  and  everything  for  breakfast  begins  to  sizzle. 
And  we  might  go  on  imagining  all  day,  and  think  of  our 
mother's  afternoon  tea-tables  with  a  tiny  little  knob  un- 
derneath, which  only  has  to  be  turned  half  round  to  set 
the  teakettle  singing,  and  then  another  knob  on  the  wall, 
and  the  room  is  heated;  and  still  another  attached  to  the 
inside  wall  of  the  carriage,  and  the  carriage  is  lighted 
and  warmed  at  once  from  a  little  storage-battery  under- 
neath, and —  But  we  might  go  on  forever,  and  grow  wild 
in  our  imagination,  and  still  perhaps  not  get  so  far  be- 
yond possibility  either. 


THE    "KITCHEN    RANGE." 


278 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


"THE     'SCUTNEY     MAIL." 

THE    STORY    OF    A   YOUNG    PEOPLE'S   NEWSPAPER 

VENTURE. 

BY    SOPHIE    SWETT. 


t    £17. 


V  CROSS  the  fields  was  the  nearest  way  from  the  poor- 
house  lane  to  Farmer  Bigsby's  old  granary,  and 
across  the  fields  they  trooped.  Polly  leaving  her  bicycle 
beside  the  stone  wall,  which  she  climbed  as  nimbly  as  the 
bo\'s  —  more  nimbly,  indeed,  than  Jim,  who  was  pale  and 
trembling. 

"He'll  be  burnt  up,  Sarah  Loud,  and  all  the  others!" 
he  gasped,  as  Polly  tried  to  encourage  him  by  hopeful 
prophecies. 

"Is  Sarah  Lond  a  hey  asked  Polly,  feeling  that  the 
emergency  justified  a  little  indulgence  of  her  curi- 
osity. 

"I  named  him  after  somebody  that  I  used  to  know,'' 
said  Jim.  evasively  —  "somebody  who  liked  animals,  just 
as  I  do.  Do  you  suppose  Macurdy  has  let  them  out?"  he 
added,  his  voice  strained  and  sharp  with  anxiety.  "Ma- 
curdv  says  he  sleeps  witli  one  eye  open.  I've  tried  it. 
and  I  can't  do  it,  but  you  know  how  very  smart  Ma- 
curdy  is." 

"  It's  a  good  thing  that  the  granary  is  away  off  by  it- 
self," said  Bing,  as  Jim  and  Polly  overtook  him.  "  Maybe 
it  wasn't  Derrick  that  did  it.  Anyhow,  Polly,  you  needn't 
go  to  hollering  like  a  girl  until  we  see  whether  we  can't 
put  the  fire  out.  The  brook  is  right  near  there,  and  it's 
lucky  it  isn't  frozen." 

It  had  not  needed  Bing's  warning  to  make  Polly  wish 
that  they  could  extinguish  the  fire  without  an  alarm. 
Perhaps  one  ought  not  to  wish  that  Derrick  should  not 
be  arrested,  but  if  he  were,  Bing's  share  in  the  adventures 
of  the  night  would  be  sure  to  come  out,  and  it  might  be 
difficult  to  convince  people  that  he  was  not  concerned  in 
the  setting  of  the  fire. 

The  smoke  was  thicker  now.  but  there  was  less  flame. 
The  fields  were  miry,  and  Polly's  boots  were  so  heavy 
with  mud  that  she  could  no  longer  run.  Bing  began  to 
hang  back  a  little,  as  if  he  were  not  altogether  inclined 
to  "grace  battle's  brunt,"  but  Jim's  long  legs  went  steadily 
on,  and  when  Polly  was  near  enough  to  him  she  could 
hear  that  he  was  muttering  anxiously  about  "  Sarah 
Lond." 

As  Jim  approached  the  granary,  with  Polly  close  be- 
hind, and  Bing's  small  hesitating  figure  bringing  up  the 
rear,  a  tall  figure  stepped  sturdily  out  from  the  smoke. 

"You  needn't  be  scared,  nor  make  a  fuss;  I'm  here." 
said  Macurdy  Green. 

''They're  all  safe  —  Sarah  Lond  and  all?''  demanded 
Jim,  breathlessly. 

"  Yes,  all  are  safe.  I  was  afraid  they'd  smother,  but 
there's  no  danger  now.  He  —  that  rascal  of  a  Derrick 
Croome"  —  it  almost  seemed  as  if  sparks  flew  out  of  Ma- 
curdy's  gray  eyes  —  "  pried  open  the  door  after  he  had  set 
the  fire;  perhaps  he  wanted  to  let  'em  out;  I  don't  know 
as  he  is  bad  enough  to  burn  live  things  up;  but  I  think 
he  wanted  to  steal  some  of  'em;  and  Sarah  Lond  bit  him. 
He  hollered,  and  I  heard  him.  I  sleep  in  the  woodshed 
chamber,  and  I've  been  sleeping  with  one  eye  open  lately 
—  kind  of  expecting  there  was  mischief  brewing." 

"  You  treated  us  pretty  mean,  but  I  wouldn't  set  things 
afire,  "said  Bing,  digging  in  the  ground  with  his  heel. 
"  Derrick  Croome's  a  coward,  anyway." 

"You  just  leave  him  to  Sarah  Lond!"  said  Macurdy. 
with  undisguised  satisfaction.  "He  can  bite." 

Jim  pushed  open  the  granary  door  and  entered.  Queer 
chattering  and  scolding  noises  came  from  inside. 


"I  knew  there  were  live  things  in  there,  squirrels  and 
things;  all  the  fellows  do:  but  I  wisht  I  knew  who  Sarah 
Lond  is, "said  Bing. 

"Ain't  you  ever  going  with  Derrick  Croome  again — 
'slong's  you  live?"  demanded  Macurdy,  solemnly. 

"Honest  and  true,  black  and  blue!"  responded  little 
Bing,  with  equal  solemnity. 

"Well,  Sarah  Lond  is  something  that  you  don't  very 
often  see  tamed.  Jim  can  tame  wild  things.  I  suppose 
it's  because  he  likes  'em  so.  Sarah  Lond  is  in  a  big  cage, 
and  he  likes  it  pretty  well,  anyhow,  and  he  knows 
Jim  and  me,  and  wouldn't  bite  us.  And  he's  a  weasel. 
Some  day  if  you  come  over,  you  and  your  sister — we 
don't  often  show  him  to  girls,  but — but — you  and  she  can 
see  him." 

Polly  was  not  very  enthusiastic  about  the  weasel,  but 
she  appreciated  Macurdy's  stammeringly  conveyed  com- 
pliment, and  gravely  accepted  the  invitation. 

"  I  wish  you  would  go  home  now,  without  making  a 
bit  of  noise,"  said  Macurdy,  frankly.  "  The  fire's  all  out, 
and  I  don't  want  her  to  get  wind  of  it,"  with  a  significant 
nod  towards  the  house.  "  She  won't  be  likely  to  see  any 
signs  of  it,  because  she's  lame,  and  don't  get  'round  much, 
but  if  she  should  hear  of  it  she'd-  be  awful  apt  to  put  her 
foot  down." 

' '  Then  you  won't  have  Derrick  Croome  arrested  ?"  asked 
Polly,  eagerly. 

"I'll  just  leave  him  to  Sarah  Lond!"  said  Macurdy, 
confidently. 

Bing  wondered  what  lie  would  think  was  bad  enough 
for  him.  if  he  knew  of  the  confusion  and  desolation  in 
the  Mail  office,  and  of  the  hand-cart  with  its  load  that 
was  standing  beside  the  stone  wall  in  the  poor-house  lane. 
And  he  hurried  back  across  the  field  as  fast  as  Polly 
herself — Polly,  who  had  been  seized  with  a  sudden  fear 
lest  Derrick  Croome  should  come  upon  the  hand-cart,  and, 
with  anger  freshly  aroused  by  Sarah  Lond's  bite,  wreak 
his  vengeance  upon  it. 

The  cart  was  there  with  its  contents  safe,  and  Bing 
pushed  it  homeward  with  might  and  main.  Jim  had 
offered  to  go  with  them  to  help,  but  he  was  evidently  so 
tired,  and  so  anxious  about  his  pets  in  the  granary,  that 
Polly  positively  declined  his  aid,  asking  only  that  he 
should  take  care  of  her  bicycle. 

There  had  been  a  heavy  strain  both  on  Polly's  nerves 
and  muscles,  but  she  had  heard  Bing's  promise  to  Ma- 
curdy Green — and  an  excellent  thing  about  Bing  was 
that  he  kept  his  promises — and  that  lightened  the  load. 
They  could  not  bring  order  out  of  the  confusion  in  the 
composing-room  of  the  Mail,  but  they  restored  the  press 
and  the  type,  and  Polly  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief  as 
Bing  softly  locked  the  door  behind  them.  She  had  care- 
fully avoided  reproaching  Bing — since  his  promise — but 
she  turned  upon  him  now  with  a  sudden  question, 

"  Where  did  you  get  that  key,  Bing-?" 

Bing  hung  his  cherubic  head. 

"  I  heard  Luella  tell  you  that  she  was  going  to  leave 
it  under  the  mat  so  you  could  go  in  and  look  at  the 
proofs  of  'The  Magic  Squash  Seed,'"  lie  said. 

Polly  lay  awake  thinking  how  hard  it  was  to  be  a 
boy's  sister,  but  Bing — Bing,  with  all  his  misdeeds  upon 
his  head,  slept  "as  they  sleep  who  do  not  wake  to  care." 
After  all,  The  *  Scutney  Mail  made  its  appearance  that 
week,  but  it  was  not  until  Saturday  night — instead  of 
Thursday,  its  regular  date — and  Macurdy  and  Bing  Raw- 
son — Bing  who  had  faced  the  music  manfully,  and  owned 
up  to  his  share  in  the  midnight  raid,  and  was  now  a  rec- 
ognized all}-  and  aid  of  the  paper,  explaining  that  "He 
wasn't  'xactly  on  the  staff,  but — 

Sarah  Lond's  punishment  of  Derrick  Croome  had  been, 
as  Macurdy  had  prophesied,  quite  severe  enough.  He 
was  under  the  doctor's  care,  with  his  hand  and  arm  badly 
swollen,  and  with  symptoms  of  blood-poisoning.  The 


FEBRUARY  19,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


279 


identity  of  Sarah  Lond  was  no  longer  a  mystery,  and 
all  the  boys  in  'Scutney  were  deeply  interested  in  (lit? 
tame  weasel,  but  the  "  piece  "  about  him,  which  Macurdy's 
journalistic  heart  yearned  for  just  now,  as  timely  and 
striking,  was  hanging  fire;  for  the  excitement  and  ex- 
posure of  that  adventurous  night  had  been  more  than  Jim 
could  bear,  and  he  was  now  ill  at  the  poor-house. 

Macurdy's  hands  were  full,  and  Tom's  mumps  was 
prolonged,  and  that  paper  could  not  have  come  out  if 
Farmer  Bigsby  had  not,  for  once,  put  his  foot  down  and 
declared  that,  in  spite  of  the  claims  of  churning  and  bak- 
ing, Macurdy  should  have  his  Saturday  holiday  for  his 
own  devices.  The  truth  was  that  Farmer  Bigsby  was 
growing  proud  of  Macurdy,  and  spoke  of  the  Mail  as 
"our  boy's  paper."  The  paper  sold  in  Hebron  and  at 
the  Four  Corners,  and  people  were  inclined  to  take  it 
much  more  seriously  than  at  first  ;  nevertheless,  the 
money  did  not  come  in  very  fast,  and  Tom  was  growing 
rather  tired  of  the  work,  and  very  tired  of  hearing  it 
called  Macurdy's  paper. 

"  It's  about  time  there  was  a  piece  in  that  paper  about 
me,  that  founded  it,"  said  Tom  to  himself,  discontentedly. 

In  the  spelling-class,  one  day,  a  week  or  two  after  the 
midnight  raid,  Tom  handed  a  letter,  behind  his  back,  to 
Macurdy.  They  were  "toeing  the  mark,"  in  the  prim- 
itive fashion  that  prevailed  in  'Scutney,  and  the  teacher's 
eye  was  only  momentarily  absent  from  them,  but  Tom 
had  happened  to  think  of  that  letter,  and  wanted  Macurdy 
to  see  it  before  he  forgot  it  again — a  fellow  had  so  many 
things  on  his  mind,  now  that  spring  was  coming,  and 
there  were  more  ball  games,  and  Lon  Bailey,  of  Hebron, 
had  threatened  to  thrash  him  for  trying  to  make  out,  in 
the  account  in  the  Mail,  that  the  'Scutneys  hadn't  a  fair 
show  in  the  last  game. 

Macurdy  took  the  letter,  and  found  a  chance  to  take  a 
peep  at  it.  It  was  from  Tom's  Uncle  Rufe,  out  in  Texas, 
and  it  said  that  a  family  who  lived  near  him  had  been 
much  interested  in  the  story  of  the  Queen  of  Sheba,  be- 
cause a  young  son,  who  was  dead,  had  made  a  pet  of  a 
white  turkey  in  the  same  way,  and  had  called  her  the 
Queen  of  Sheba.  The  family  seemed  to  think  it  a  re- 
markable coincidence,  and  wished  to  know  more  about 
the  boy  who  had  written  the  article — especially  as  it  was 
signed  "Jim,"  and  their  boy  who  had  died  had  been 
called  Jiinmie.  Macurdy  didn't  think  the  letter  amount- 
ed to  much;  he  didn't  see  why  another  boy  might  not 
have  called  a  turkey  the  Queen  of  Sheba,  since  it  was  a 
Bible  name,  with  which  every  one  was  acquainted.  And 
if  it  was  a  queer  coincidence,  it  didn't  strike  his  practical 
mind  as  being  of  much  consequence. 

Tom  forgot  it,  too  ;  Uncle  Rufe  had  expressed  very 
complimentary  opinions  of  the  paper,  and  Tom  meant  to 
suggest  in  his  answer  that  a  little  more  capital  could  be 
used  to  advantage  in  the  development  of  the  paper.  Per- 
haps Uncle  Rufe  would  send  him  another  twenty-five 
dollars.  He  covered  all  four  sides  of  his  note-paper  with 
what  he  considered  delicate  hints  to  that  effect,  and  neg- 
lected to  say  who  Jim  was  and  how  he  had  come  to 
'Scutney. 

Derrick  Croome  had  been  sent  away  to  school  by  his 
father  as  soon  as  he  had  recovered  from  the  effects  of 
Sarah  Lond's  bite,  and  his  vicious  dog  had  been  sent  off 
to  a  farm  to  be  trained  into  a  respectable  member  of  so- 
ciety— this  latter  departure  being  a  blessing  to  the  com- 
munity, for  which  it  gave  due  credit  to  the  boys'  paper. 

So  the  boys'  world  wagged  with  mingled  joys  and 
troubles  and  plans  for  bettering  things,  like  the  olde^ 
people's;  but  Macurdy's  troubles  were  just  now  so  heavy 
that  he  had  no  heart  for  his  joys.  Mr.  Bigsby  had  put 
his  foot  down  for  once,  and  Macurdy  had  used  his  Satur- 
day holiday  from  school,  usually  a  very  busy  day  for 
''chores''  and  the  house-work  that  he  hated,  and  had 
been  able  to  bring  out  the  Mail  in  spite  of  the  disaster 


that  had  threatened  to  overthrow  it;  but  after  this  tem- 
porary overthrow  of  Mrs.  Bigsby's  authority,  she  had  re- 
asserted herself  vigorously.  She  was  very  indignant  that 
"a  wild  beast"  should  be  kept  on  their  own  premises, 
which  had  brought  her  nephew,  Derrick  Croome,  "to 
death's  door,"  and  nothing  would  appease  her  wrath  ex 
cept  Farmer  Bigby's  promise  that  just  as  soon  as  it  was  so 
warm  that  the  tamed  creatures  would  not  suffer  by  being 
turned  loose  into  the  woods  and  fields,  the  boys  should  be 
made  to  take,  them  out  of  the  granary. 

There  would  be  no  reprieve  from  that  sentence,  Ma- 
curdy knew,  and  to  lose  his  pets — Sarah  Lond,  the  re- 
markable weasel;  his  white  mice,  which  Macurdy  had 
helped  him  to  buy,  and  which  he  had  brought  home  from 
the  Four  Corners  on  that  memorable  day  when  The 
'Scnfiiey  Mail  was  first  projected;  his  gray  squirrels,  and 
chipmunks,  and  rabbits — would  break  Jim's  heart. 

He  would  not  be  allowed  to  keep  them  at  the  poor- 
house;  in  fact,  the  question  of  sending  Jim  to  the  State 
poor -farm  was  being  agitated  again.  He  was  ill  and 
needed  constant  care,  and  the  poorrnistress,  who  was  not 
unkind,  but  was  overburdened  with  work  and  care,  com- 
plained of  having  a  charge  that  did  not  rightfully  belong 
to  the  town. 

Jim  would  die  if  he  should  lose  his  pets  and  be  sent 
away  from  the  only  place  he  knew  as  home,  and  from  him 
(Macurdy)  to  whom  his  heart  clung  as  to  his  only  friend. 
In  some  way  Macurdy  felt  he  must  prevent  these  trials 
from  coming  upon  Jim.  He  was  strong  and  Jim  was 
weak,  so  he  must  take  care  of  him  :  but  how? 

Farmer  Bigsby  gave  him  his  board  and  clothing  for  his 
work,  and  he  had  very  little  time  or  opportunity  to  earn 
anything  more.  He  feared  he  should  even  be  obliged  to 
give  up  the  paper  now  that  the  spring  work  of  the  farm 
was  coming  on.  Farmer  Bigsby  had  told  him  so  only 
the  other  day. 

"Ploughin'  and  plantin'  ain't  a-goin'  to  hitch  horses 
with  runnin'a  newspaper,  Macurdy,"  he  had  said,  shaking 
his  head  seriously.  "You've  been  smart  about  that  pa- 
per. I've  counted  on  seein'  it  jest  about  as  much  as  I  have 
the  Cultivator,  but  it's  nothin'  but  boys'  play,  after  all, 
and  this  is  a  world  of  solemn  realities." 

The  "solemn  realities  "sounded  so  depressing  that  even 
Macurdy's  stout  heart  sank  for  a  moment.  To  drudge 
through  every  hour  of  daylight,  with  no  chance  to  go  to 
school,  no  hope  of  bettering  one's  fortunes,  was,  for  an 
ambitious  boy  like  Macurdy,  a  "solemn  reality  ''  indeed, 
and  now  this  necessity,  or,  what  he  felt  to  be  a  necessity, 
of  caring  for  Jim  had  come  upon  him. 

Macurdy  was  going  homeward  on  the  last  day  of  school, 
with  his  books  strapped  upon  his  shoulder  to  allow  him 
to  ease  his  mind  a  little  by  whittling,  and  with  these 
heavy  thoughts  oppressing  him.  He  had  for  once  got 
past  the  point  where  whistling  was  possible — he  had  tried 
it,  and  a  lump  in  his  throat  had  stopped  him — when  sud- 
denly he  remembered  a  saying  of  old  Uncle  Sol  Rams- 
dell's,  "There  never  was  a  scrape  without  a  way  out  of 
it." 

"That's  true;  there  always  is  something  that  a  fellow 
can  do!"  said  Macurdy  to  himself.  "Sometimes,  maybe, 
it's  only  to  grin  and  bear  it;  but  that's  better  than  to  give 
up  and  make  a  girl  of  himself."  And  Macurdy  resolutely 
swallowed  the  lump  in  his  throat. 

If  only  Jim  were  provided  for!  Suddenly  Macurdy 
remembered  the  people  away  off  in  Texas  who  had  wished 
to  know  who  the  boy  was  who  had  written  about  the 
Queen  of  Sheba. 

"He  might  be  so  like  their  boy  who  died  that  they'd 
want  to  adopt  him,  or  something,"  said  Macurdy  to  him- 
self, and  straightway  resolved  that  he  would  ask  Tom, 
that  very  night,  to  write  to  his  uncle  Rufe,  and  tell  him 
all  about  Jim. 

The  sketch  of  Sarah  Lond  was  finished,  and  would  ap- 


280 


HARPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


'IF  YOU  ARE  AS  SMART  AS  I  THINK  YOU  ARE,  IT'S  A  CHANCE  FOR  YOU 


pear  in  this  week's  paper,  and  that  might  still  further 
arouse  the  interest  of  those  Texas  people  who  had  lost 
their  sou.  Macurdy  had  helped  Jim  to  write  it,  and  it 
was,  as  Macurdy  with  candid  pride  declared,  "  a  pretty 
fair  article."  Those  girls,  the  literary  editor,  and  her 
friend  Polly  Raw  son,  had  "  tinkered  "  it  a  little;  they  had 
a  knack  at  straightening  a  sentence  out,  and  turning  it 
round  a  little  so  that  a  fellow  really  said  what  he  wanted 
to  better  than  he  knew  how  to  himself;  and  they  did  it 
without  making  a  fellow  feel  small,  either.  Macurdy 
thought  that  Polly  Rawsou  had  exercised  a  good  influence 
over  that  Luella.  who  had,  as  Tom  said,  been  a  little 
''  topping"  in  the  beginning;  and  he  had  a  much  higher 
opinion  of  "  women  in  journalism  "  than  when  he  had 
begun  to  edit  The  ' Sfittiiey  Mail. 

At  the  thought  of  the  paper  Macurdy  felt  a  fresh  pang. 
He  felt  as  if  he  could  not  give  it  up.  He  should  be  too 
tired  to  work  nights,  even  if  Mr.  Bigsby  would  allow  him 
to,  but  he  meant  to  try  to  get  some  one — perhaps  Polly 
Bawson,  with  little  Ring  to  help  set  type — to  do  his  share 
of  the  work  until  the  summer  work  was  done,  and  he 
might  have  a  little  leisure  again. 

He  hoped  that — with  all  his  other  troubles — a  rumor 
that  had  reached  him  was  not  true;  a  rumor  that  at  last 
a  weekly  paper  was  to  be  published  in  'Scutney.  a  real 
grown-up  paper  which  would  cast  the  Mail  entirely  into 
the  shade. 

It  happened — rather  queerly,  as  things  often  do  happen 
in  this  world — that  just  as  he  was  thinking  of  this,  a 
stranger  in  "Scutney,  a  brisk  and  wide -awake -looking 
man,  stopped  as  they  met  very  near  Farmer  Bigsby's 
pasture  bars,  and  with  a  somewhat  quizzical  and  amused 
expression — which  Macurdy  didn't  altogether  like — asked 
him  if  he  had  the  honor  of  addressing  Macurdy  Green. 


Macurdy  responded,  in  a  dignified 
manner,  that  Macurdy  Green  was  his 
name. 

"  Editor  of  The  'Scutney  Mail  r  con- 
tinued the  stranger,  subduing  his  quiz- 
zical air  to  one  of  respect. 

"  I'm  one  of  the  editors."  said  Macur- 
dy, with  modest  pride.  He  was  sud- 
denly conscious  of  his  old  patched  jack- 
et, which  Mrs.  Bigsby  had  made  him 
wear  to  school, and  of  Mr.  Bigsby's  broad- 
cloth Sunday  trousers  —  of  ten  years' 
standing — which  had  just  fallen  to  his 
share  ;  of  his  great  clodhopper  shoes, 
and  hat  with  a  dilapidated  brim ;  and 
he  held  his  head  the  higher  because  he 
had  been  ashamed  of  them. 

"  I'm  going  to  start  a  paper  here — at 
least  I'm  one  of  a  company  that's  going 
to,  and  I'm  to  be  the  managing  editor, '' 
continued  the  man.  "I  think  there's  a 
good  chance  for  a  live  newspaper  here 
—  queer  that  there's  never  been  one." 

"There's  the  Mail,  you  know,"  said 
Macurdy,  with  dignity. 

"Oh    yes!"     The   stranger    instantly 
suppressed  the   slightest  of  smiles,  and 
spoke   very   respectfully.       "You  boys 
have  done  well  with  that   little    paper. 
It  shows  a  good  deal  of  cleverness.     I've 
been  staying  over  at  Hebron,  and  I  hap- 
pened  to  see  two  or  three  copies  of  it. 
My  paper   is   going   to    be  started   next 
month  ;  we've  hired  Croome's  block  on 
the  main  street.     Now  I'm  looking  for 
a   boy.     He'll  have  to  sweep  and  dust 
and  do  the  drudgery,  but  —  he'll   have 
a  chance  to   work  up.     And  I   want  a 
boy    who  knows   the   locality  and   can 
pick  up  bits  of  local  news,  as  you  have  in  your  paper. 
Yrou  see,  we  shall  all  be  strangers  in  'Scutney.     I've  been 
inquiring  about  you,  and  I  think  you're  just  the  fellow  I 
want.    You  won't  get  much  at  first,  but  it  will  be  enough 
to  board   and  clothe  you — decently"  (with  a  glance  at 
Macurdy's  peculiar  toilet).      "And  if  you  are  as  smart  as 
I  think  you  are,  it's  a  chance  for  you." 

A  chance  for  him!  Macurdy  thrilled  to  his  finger-tips; 
the  blood  rushed  to  his  face  and  then  away  again,  leaving 
it  pale  under  the  great  yellow  freckles.  It  was  a  way  out 
of  his  hopeless  drudgery;  with  enough  to  board  and 
clothe  him  he  could  manage  to  take  care  of  Jim. 

Then  came  a  tug  at  his  heart,  the  thought  of  the  little 
'Si-titupy  Mail,  the  paper  that  he  had  meant  should  grow 
up  with  him  ;  but  it  was  Tom's  paper;  Tom  reminded  him 
of  it,  cuttingly,  very  often. 

But  the  wood  that  he  was  whittling  fell  from  his 
hands,  and  they  dropped  dejectedly  by  his  side.  Then 
lie  straightened  himself  up  and  set  his  dilapidated  old 
hat  squarely  on  his  head. 

"I'm  reg'larly  engaged  on  the  Mail,''  he  said.  "It 
wouldn't  be  fair  to  Tom." 

The  man  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed.  "You 
take  that  paper  very  seriously,"  he  said.  "You  ought  to 
realize  that  it's  only  boys'  play." 

"Tom  won't  give  it  up — Tom  Pickering,  who  owns  it. 
He  has  asked  his  uncle  for  money  to  put  it  on  a  firmer 
liuancial  basis,"  said  Macurdy,  sturdily. 

"Well,  well,  think  it  over!  I  dare  say  I  can  find  a 
boy  if  you  don't  want  the  job,"  said  the  man,  a  little  im- 
patiently, as  he  started  to  go. 

"I'd  like  the  job — I'd  like  it  well;  but  I've  got  to  do 
the  fair  thing,"  said  Macurdy. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


AFLOAT   WITH  THE   FLAG. 


BY    W.  J.  HENDERSON. 


CHAPTER     XXXI. 
TRYING   TO    SAVE    A    LIFE. 


WHEN  the  two  cadets  were  confined  to  the  steer- 
age they  looked  at  one  another  seriously. 

"  What  do  you  suppose  they'll  do  to  us,  Hal .'" 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  he  replied.  "If  the  charge 
was  nothing  more  than  overstaying  our  leave,  I  think  we 
might  get  off  easily." 

"  Well,  that's  all  Mr.  Crane  mentioned." 

"I  know;  but  you  may  be  sure  that  the  Brazilian  Cap- 
tain will  make  a  formal  complaint  against  us  for  helping 
Robert  Lock  wood  to  escape." 

"But  didn't  Commander  Brownson  know  we  were  go- 
ing to  help  Captain  Lockwood  get  his  son?" 

"Of  course;  I  told  him  our  whole  plan.  But  then,  you 
see,  he  had  only  to  shut  his  eyes  to  our  errand  as  long  as 
the  insurgents  didn't  catch  us.  Now  the  thing  will  be 
brought  to  his  notice  officially,  and  he'll  be  forced  to  take 
some  action." 

"  All  the  same,"  said  George,  "  he  can't  be  very  hard 
on  us  in  the  circumstances." 

"But  Mr.  Crane  seemed  to  be  very  angry  with  us  for 
being  aboard  the  Aqiiidaban." 

"Well,  we  can  explain  that." 

"All  the  same,  I  wish  this  thing-  hadn't  happened." 

"  Me,  too,"  said  George,  ungrammatically. 

It  was  not  more  than  two  hours  afterward  that  Cap- 
tain Lockwood  arrived  alongside  the  Detroit. 

"I  should  like  to  see  Cadets  King  and  Briscomb,"  he 
said  to  the  officer  of  the  deck. 

"  Sorry,  Captain,  but  they're  both  under  arrest." 

"Arrest!     What  for?" 


"Overstaying  their  leave,  and  visiting  the  Aquitl- 
aban." 

"  Why,  they  couldn't  help  visiting  her;  and  as  for 
overstaying  their  leave,  if  they  did,  it  was  the  Brazilian's 
doing,  for  he  wouldn't  put  them  aboard  in  time." 

Mr.  Harniss  looked  grave,  and  called  for  the  orderly. 

"Tell  Commander  Brownson  that  Captain  Lockwood 
wishes  to  see  him." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir,"  said  the  marine,  departing  on  his  er- 
rand. 

"But  I  haven't  said  anything  of  the  sort,"  said  the 
Captain. 

"You  must  tell  the  Commander  your  story,"  said  Mr. 
Harniss,  "  so  as  to  set  the  boys  right  with  him.  It  rests 
with  him  to  release  them  without  ordering  a  court  mar- 
tial." 

"  I  think  I  can  make  it  all  right,"  said  the  Captain. 

The  orderly  returned  and  took  the  merchant  skipper 
to  the  cabin. 

"  Good-afternoon,  Captain  Lockwood,"  said  Comman- 
der Brownson.  '•  What  can  I  do  for  you?" 

"  You  can't  do  anything  for  me,  sir;  but  now  that  I'm 
here  I  want  to  thank  you  for  the  protection  your  ship 
gave  my  bark  the  other  day." 

"Oh,  don't  talk  about  that,"  said  the  Commander. 
"  You  know  that's  what  we're  here  for." 

"Well,  sir,  I  won't  say  anything  more  about  it,  if  you 
don't  want  me  to." 

"  I'm  sure  you  didn't  come  to  see  me  about  that." 

"  No,  sir;  I  came  to  see  my  young  friends  Cadets  King 
and  Briscomb,  and  I  find  they're  under  arrest.  I  know 
their  offense  was  unavoidable,  sir." 

"  How's  that?     Let  me  hear  all  about  it." 


'I   MAY  BE    WEAK    AND    SICK,"    SAID    FRANK,  "  BUT    I    CAN    SEE.      THAT    LOOKS    LIKE    BOB!" 


282 


HAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  xvi. 


Captain  Lockwood  rapidly  narrated  the  events  of  the 
preceding  night,  laying  especial  stress  on  Harold's  cool- 
ness and  courage.  It  speedily  became  apparent  to  Com- 
mander Brownson  that  the  two  young  men  had  not  in- 
tentionally violated  the  conditions  of  their  leave,  and  the 
Commander  readily  understood  that  the  Brazilian  Cap- 
tain had  revenged  himself  by  making  them  late.  He 
sent  for  Harold,  and  questioned  him  closely  about  the 
matter.  The  boy's  frank  and  unhesitating  answers  con- 
vinced the  commanding  officer  of  his  innocence.  He 
dismissed  the  young  cadet,  and  sent  for  the  Executive 
Officer. 

"Mr.  Crane,"  he  said,  "I  am  afraid  we  have  made  a 
slight  mistake." 

At  the  Commander's  request  Captain  Lockwood  re- 
peated his  story  to  Mr.  Crane,  and  the  Commander  him- 
self repeated  the  substance  of  his  conversation  with 
Harold. 

"  There  is  only  one  thing  to  do,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Crane. 
"  What,  sir?"  asked  the  Commander. 
"  The  young  men  must  be  released  from  arrest  at  once, 
and  it  must  be  made  known  that  their  conduct  has  been 
satisfactory." 

"You  will  attend  to  it  at  once.  And  now,  Captain 
Lockwood,  you  may  see  your  young  friends." 

"  Well,  sir,  what  I  was  going  to  say  to  them   would 
have  had   to  come  to  you  in  the  end,  so  as  long  as  I'm 
here  I'd  like  to  tell  it  to  you  myself." 
"Go  ahead.  Captain." 

The  merchant  skipper  proceeded  to  tell  Commander 
Brownson  the  stories  of  his  son  and  his  nephew  down  to 
the  preceding  night. 

"Now,  sir,"  he  said,  "I  wish  first  of  all  to  save  my 
son  from  being  shot;  I  suppose  that's  natural  enough, 
isn't  it?" 

"My  dear  sir,"  said  the  Commander,  "you  have  my 
deepest  sympathy." 

"And  secondly,  I  want  to  get  my  nephew  aboard  my 
own  bark,  where  my  daughter  and  I  can  nurse  him." 

"I  am  afraid  that  cannot  be  accomplished.  You  see, 
he's  an  officer.  Besides,  what  would  you  do  for  a  phy- 
sician '." 

"I  am  acquainted  with  the  best  doctor  in  Rio,  and  I 
could  get  him  to  come  off  every  day." 

Commander  Brownson  reflected  for  a  few  moments. 
and  then  said,  "  I  know  of  only  one  way  it  may  be 
done." 

"  How's  that?" 

"  By  purchasing  his   discharge.      The  insurgents  are 

hard  pressed  for  money,  and  if  they  think  he  is  going  to 

be  laid  up  long  they  might  let  him  off  fora  small  price." 

"  I'll  go  and  see  Admiral  da  Gama  at  once,"  said  the 

Captain,  rising. 

"I  wouldn't  go  personally,  if  I  wers  you.  He  will  not 
feel  very  cordial  toward  the  Captain  of  the  Alma.  Is 
there  no  one  who  is  on  good  terms  with  him  who  would 
do  your  errand?" 

"No,  not  one.  But  wait!  Yes,  there  is;  there's  Lieu- 
tenant Benuos,  of  the  Aquidaban,  my  nephew's  good 
friend." 

"Just  the  man,"  said  the  Commander. 
"  But  about  my  son;  can't  I  buy  his  discharge,  too?" 
"No,  I  fear  not  while  he  is  under  sentence  of  death. 
There  is  a  big  difference  between  a  disabled  officer  and  a 
condemned  seaman." 

"  NVhat's  to  be  done,  sir?  My  boy — my  boy — he  must 
be  saved!" 

"Captain  Lockwood,  I  shall  go  at  once  and  lay  this 
case  before  Admiral  Beiiham.  His  influence,  I  am  sure, 
will  be  sufficient  to  get  the  sentence  commuted.  This 
rebellion  cannot  last  much  longer,  and  if  we  can  save 
the  boy's  life,  you'll  be  able  to  get  him  away  to  America 
when  this  silly  war  ends." 


"God  bless  you,  sir,"  said  Captain  Lockwood,  in  a 
voice  shaken  with  emotion,  as  he  shook  the  officer's  hand 
warmly  and  left  the  cabin. 

CHAPTER     XXXII. 
A   REBELLION    IN    COLLAPSE. 

COMMANDER  BROWNSON  did  not  altogether  overesti- 
mate the  value  of  Admiral  Benham's  influence,  yet  the 
commander  of  the  American  fleet  could  get  from  the  in- 
surgent chief  no  further  assurance  than  that  Robert 
Lockwood's  life  would  be  spared  for  the  present.  Admi- 
ral da  Gama  added  that  if  he  finally  decided  to  execute 
the  condemned  boy  he  would  give  the  American  Admiral 
due  warning.  It  may  well  be  understood  that  this  con- 
dition of  affairs  put  Captain  Lockwood  and  his  daughter 
into  a. fever  of  agonizing  anxiety.  Yet  the  American 
skipper  was  a  man  of  great  courage  and  energy,  and  he 
did  not  relax  his  efforts  to  save  both  his  son  and  his 
nephew.  The  result  of  his  talk  with  Lieutenant  Bennos 
was  that  the  latter  placed  the  matter  before  his  own  com- 
manding- officer,  without  whose  sanction  he  could  not 
have  applied  to  Admiral  da  Gama.  The  Captain  of  the 
Aquidaban  listened  with  patience,  and.  somewhat  to  the 
surprise  of  Bennos,  offered  no  objection  to  his  proposition. 

"  It  may  as  well  be  done  now  as  later,"  he  said,  re- 
flectively; "and  the  Admiral  will  be  very  glad  to  get 
the  money." 

Accordingly  Bennos  visited  the  Liberfade  and  laid  the 
proposal  of  Captain  Lockwood  before  the  Admiral. 

"It  is  a  matter  of  no  great  importance  now,"  said  Da 
Gama. 

"Then  lam  to  understand  that  you  will  sell  the  dis- 
charge of  Frank  Lockwood?" 

"Yes,  you  may  tell  Captain  Lockwood  that  I  will  ac- 
cept his  money  and  release  the  boy." 

Bennos  lost  no  time  in  conveying  the  joyful  news  to 
the  American  skipper,  who  promptly  paid  the  sum  agreed 
upon,  and  received  a  written  acknowledgment,  together 
with  a  formal  discharge  of  Frank.  The  next  step  was  to 
secure  the  safe  removal  of  the  cadet  from  the  Aquidaban 
to  the  Alma.  This  was  by  no  means  an  easy  task,  for 
Frank  was  quite  unable  to  leave  his  cot.  It  was  neces- 
sary to  wait  a  day  or  two  until  the  weather  was  perfectly 
suitable.  Then  a  cot  was  set  up  in  the  cabin  of  the 
Alma,  and  a  stretcher  which  could  be  hoisted  by  a  tackle 
was  prepared.  This  stretcher  was  taken  in  the  Almn'x 
long-boat  to  the  Aquidaban.  Frank  was  placed  in  it 
and  carried  on  deck,  and  thence  he  was  lowered  into 
the  boat.  Arriving  alongside  the  Alma  he  was  hoisted 
aboard,  and  after  the  tackle  was  cast  off  he  was  carried 
below  and  put  in  the  cot.  He  was  greatly  fatigued  by 
the  transfer,  and  for  some  hours  he  was  inclined  to  be 
feverish.  But  finally  youth  and  hope  conquered,  and  he 
began  to  mend  again. 

"  Uncle  Hiram,"  he  said,  "  I  owe  you  a  debt  of  grati- 
tude which  I  can  never  repay." 

"Don't  think  about  that,  Frank." 

"  I  can't  help  it.  Uncle  Hiram.  If  I  hadn't  been  fool- 
ish enough  to  enlist  in  this  service — 

"  I  might  never  have  found  my  boy,  for  it  was  you 
that  put  us  on  his  track." 

"  But  that  did  so  little  good." 

"  Nonsense,  Frank.  His  life  is  spared  for  the  present, 
and  I  haven't  given  up  all  hope  of  saving  him  by  any 
means." 

"Well,  you've  saved  my  life,  sir." 

"  That's  putting  it  pretty  strong,  Frank." 

"The  doctor  on  the  Aquidaban  said  you  would  live,''' 
added  Minnie. 

"  That  may  be  so,"  said  the  boy  :  "  but  I'm  sure  I  should 
have  died  if  I'd  had  to  stay  in  that  service  any  longer." 

The  next  day  the  two  cadets  oil  the  Detroit  obtained 


FEBRUARY  19,  1S95. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


283 


permission  to  visit  their  friend.  They  sat  by  his  cot  for 
an  hour,  and  told  him  all  that  was  going  on  in  the  Amer- 
ican fleet. 

"  Watkins,  Gleason,  Briggs,  and  Brown  have  received 
orders  to  report  for  their  final  examination,"  said  Hal. 

"Yes,  and  they're  going  to  New  York  by  the  steamer 
that  sails  to-morrow,"  said  George. 

Boom  ! 

The  thundering  echo  of  a  great  gun  rolled  up  the  bay. 

"  What's  that?"  asked  the  wounded  boy. 

"Oil,  Frank!"  exclaimed  Minnie,  running  into  the 
cabin,  "the  Aquidaban  and  the  Kepiiblica  are  going  out, 
and  the  forts  are  firing  upon  them.  I'm  so  glad  you  are 
not  aboard." 

"But  Bob!"  exclaimed  Captain  Lockwood,  springing 
to  his  feet.  "  What  '11  become  of  him?" 

"  Let  us  go  to  Da  Gama  at  once,"  cried  Hal,  hastening 
on  deck,  followed  by  the  Captain  and  George. 

"A  boat's  comin'  from  the  Sail.  Francisco,  sir,"  said 
Mr.  Ball. 

In  a  few  minutes  a  cadet  from  the  flagship  boarded 
the  Alma.  He  had  been  sent  to  tell  Captain  Lockwood 
that  Admiral  Benham,  hearing  that  Da  Gama  and  Mello 
had  quarrelled,  and  that  the  Aquidaban  and  Republica 
were  going  south  to  engage  in  a  vain  attempt  to  carry 
on  the  rebellion  on  their  own  account,  had  sent  a  per- 
emptory demand  to  Mello  to  know  what  was  to  be  done 
witli  Robert  Lockwood.  The  reply  was  that  he  had  been 
surrendered  to  Admiral  da  Gama.  That  commander  had 
flatly  refused  to  give  any  information  further  than  to 
say  that  the  boy  was  aboard  one  of  his  ships. 

"I'll  go  and  see  him,"  said  Captain  Lockwood. 

The  cadets  returned  to  their  ships,  and  the  American 
merchant  Captain  visited  the  Libertade.  But  it  was  in 
vain,  for  he  learned  nothing.  But  Admiral  da  Gama  re- 
peated his  promise  to  send  word  to  Admiral  Benham  as 
to  any  future  treatment  of  Robert.  Two  days  later 
George  and  Harold  tumbled  aboard  the  Alma  with 
flushed  faces. 

"  Old  man,"  said  Harold,  "  we've  news  for  you." 

"  Yes,"  exclaimed  George,  "  it's  all  over!" 

"  What's  all  over?" 

"  The  insurrection." 

"  Has  Da  Gama  surrendered?" 

"No;  but  he  has  done  something  worse." 

"What?" 

"He  has  fled."  said  George. 

"  Yes,"  said  Harold;  "  he  has  taken  refuge  on  the  Por- 
tuguese war-ships. 

"And  the  government  fleet  is  about  to  come  up  the 
bay." 

At  that  moment  the  sound  of  heavy  firing  broke  upon 
the  aii\ 

"  Hurrah  !"  cried  George.      "  The  fun's  begun." 

"  Oh,"  exclaimed  Frank;  "  I  wish  I  could  see  it.  May 
I,  uncle?  The  doctor  said  I  might  sit  up  a  little  to-day." 

"  But  I  don't  believe  the  excitement  would  be  safe." 

Minnie  came  and  looked  eagerly  into  her  cousin's  face. 
"I  am  sure  it  would  do  him  good,  father,"  she  said. 

"Well,  let's  try  it." 

Harold  and  George  brought  a  steamer-chair  to  the  side 
of  the  cot,  filled  it  with  pillows  and  blankets,  lifted  Frank 
into  it,  and  carried  him  on  deck,  where  they  stood  beside 
him.  The  scene  that  met  their  eyes  was  inspiring.  The 
batteries  which  President  Peixoto  had  been  planting  on 
the  hills  had  opened  fire  on  the  insurgent  forts.  Bursts 
of  flame,  followed  by  clouds  of  white  smoke,  were 
springing  from  the  mountains  as  if  they  had  all  suddenly 
been  transformed  into  volcanoes  in  active  eruption. 
Crest  echoed  to  crest  with  the  roar  and  rumble  of  artil- 
lery. From  the  insurgent  forts  arose  clouds  of  dust  as 
the  shells  fell  and  exploded  within  their  walls.  Out 
from  behind  Sugar  Loaf  in  a  stately  procession  of  single 


column  steamed  the  government  fleet.  The  frowning 
Nictheroy,  with  her  huge  dynamite  gun  pointing  like  a 
titanic  finger  over  her  bow,  led  the  way.  Following  in 
her  wake  were  the  America  and  the  other  ships,  while 
the  agile  torpedo-boats  spread  out  like  skirmishers  on  the 
wings.  Every  vessel  flew  her  bravest  holiday  bunting. 
The  shores  were  lined  with  excited  thousands,  whose 
glad  cheers  rang  loudly  across  the  waters.  But  the  in- 
surgent ships  and  forts  were  as  silent  as  graves.  And 
when,  a  little  later,  President  Peixoto's  forces  boarded 
the  vessels  and  entered  the  forts,  they  found  them  utterly 
deserted.  The  rebellion  in  Rio  Harbor  had  utterly  col- 
lapsed. 

Utterly  deserted  is  not  strictly  true.  On  the  poop- 
deck  of  the  old  Tamandare  stood  a  single  man.  As  the 
Nictheroy  swept  grandly  past,  this  man  hoisted  the  Bra- 
zilian flag  to  the  peak  and  fired  a  shot  from  a  musket. 
As  a  result  his  ship  was  boarded  first,  and  a  few  minutes 
later  the  cutter  from  the  Nictheroy  shoved  off  again  and 
headed  toward  the  Alma. 

"They're  coming  right  this  way,"  said  Hal. 

"And  there's  a  man  standing  up  in  the  boat  and 
waving  his  hands,"  said  Minnie. 

"I  may  be  weak  and  sick,"  said  Frank,  in  an  excited 
tone,  "but  I  can  see.  That  looks  like  Bob!" 

[TO    BK    CONTINUED.] 


THE   PHILLIPS   EXETER  ACADEMY. 

BY    W.    H.   RAND,   JUN. 

FROM  the  moment  a  boy  is  enrolled  in  Phillips  Exeter 
he  is  made  to  feel  that  it  is  t<>  himself  alone  he  has 
to  look  for  advancement  either  in  academic  standing  or 
popularity.  He  is  surrounded  there  by  none  of  the  sup- 
posed safeguards  of  constant  supervision  and  minute  reg- 
ulations, once  considered  essential  to  the  orderly  disci- 
pline of  a  great  school.  His  time  outside  of  the  class- 
room is  his  own,  to  improve  or  to  waste,  as  he  sees  fit. 
The  authorities  make  only  two  requirements  —  that  he 
shall  accomplish  thoroughly  the  tasks  set  for  him,  and 
shall  conduct  himself  as  a  gentleman.  If  he  fails  to 
meet  these,  there  is  no  punishment  for  him  in  the  usual 
sense  of  the  word,  but  the  boy  is  made  to  feel  that  he  is  a 
square  peg  in  a  round  hole,  and  that  the  sooner  he  looks 
about  and  finds  a  square  hole  to  fit  him,  the  better  it  will 
be  for  all  parties,  particularly  for  himself.  It  follows 
that  Exeter  is  not  the  place  for  very  young  boys,  nor 
does  it  in  any  way  serve  the  purpose  of  a  reformatory  for 
boys  who  cannot  be  controlled  at  home. 

For  many  years  the  only  building  used  by  the  academy 
was  an  unpretentious  wooden  school-house,  standing  in  a 
large  yard,  facing  Front  Street,  a  broad  avenue  lined  with 
the  noblest  of  noble  New  England  elms.  Twenty-four 
years  ago  this  building  was  destroyed  by  fire,  and  in  its 
place  the  alumni  and  friends  of  the  school  erected  the 
present  building,  a  capacious  and  modern  brick  structure 
of  two  stories,  with  one-story  wings  on  either  side.  The. 
first  floor  is  given  up  to  recitation  rooms.  Above,  in  the 
centre,  there  is  a  large  chapel,  where  the  walls  are  crowd- 
ed with  the  busts  and  portraits  of  old  Exonians  who  have 
gained  credit  and  fame  for  the  academy  in  the  great 
world  beyond  the  school-room  doors.  The  place  of  honor 
is  filled  by  Stuart's  painting  of  the  founder — a  benevolent 
old  gentleman  who  gazes  benignly  from  his  canvas  at  the 
boys  who  assemble  before  him  every  morning.  He  is  in 
good  company,  too,  for  near  him  are  Daniel  \\"el>Mrr 
Edward  Everett,  Lewis  Cass,  Butler,  Hildreth,  Bancrol'i. 
Sibley,  and  many  others  prominent  in  public  life,  learn- 
ing, and  literature. 

Behind  the  academy  there  is  a  large  and  well-appointed 
gymnasium,  with  dressing-rooms,  lockers,  baths,  rubbing- 
rooms,  sparring-rooms,  bowling  alleys,  a  running  track,  a 


284 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


DINNEK   IN    ABBOTT   HALL. 

baseball  cage,  and  all  the  approved  appliances  for  deep- 
ening1 chests  and  hardening  muscles.  Class  exercises 
under  the  supervision  of  a  competent  director  are  a  part 
of  the  regular  course,  so  that  physical  culture  is  not  con- 
fined to  the  chosen  few  who  represent  the  academy  in  in- 
terscholastic  contests.  There  are  also  well-equipped  lab- 
oratories for  chemical  and  physical  experiments.  Tlie 
other  buildings  of  the  school  are  two  dormitories.  Abbott 
Hall  and  Soule  Hall,  where  students  of  small  means  find 
room  and  board  suited  to  their  purses.  Most  of  the  stu- 
dents, however,  live  with  private  families,  selected  by  the 
faculty,  and  eat  at  club  tables  set  forth  plainly  but  abun- 
dantly by  Exeter  landladies. 

Amusements  at  Exeter  are  plenty  and  various.  In  the 
winter  months  there  are  dancing  parties  supported  by 
the  subscriptions  of  the  students,  and  variously  called 
assemblies,  promen- 
ades, or  germans. 
These  are  usually  given 
in  the  gymnasium,  and 
the  guests  include,  be- 
sides the  young  ladies 
of  Exeter  and  neigh- 
boring towns,  sisters 
and  cousins,  who  brave 
the  terrors  of  Gorham 
Hall,  the  leading  hotel 
of  the  town,  for  the 
pleasure  of  the  dance. 
Invitations  headed  by 
elaborate  monograms 
are  sent  forth,  and  the 
boy  whose  name  ap- 
pears as  one  of  the 
committee,  or  as  a 
leader,  feels  that  what- 
ever adverse  fortunes 
may  betide  him,  his 
social  position  at  least 
is  for  all  time  secure. 

The  w Intel-brings  the 
hockey  games  on  the 
ice  of  the  Fresh  River, 
and  the  weight-putting 


and  the  lap-running  of  the  candidates  for  honors  at  the 
athletic  meetings.  Then  there  are  sleigh-rides  over  the 
bleak  white  hills  under  the  winter  stars,  and  the  hot  sup- 
per to  crown  the  work.  There  are  also  debating  socie- 
ties, where  many  a  vexed  question  of  statecraft  and 
social  ethics  and  political  economy  is  disposed  of  by 
hearty  school-boy  oratory  and  rhetoric.  But  these  are 
only  occasional  diversions.  The  greater  part  of  the  win- 
ter, fortunately,  perhaps,  for  the  year's  average  of  scholar- 
ship, is  given  to  books.  Then  in  the  long  evenings  the 
boys  follow  with  halting  feet  the  tramp  of  Caesar's  le- 
gions in  the  campaigns  in  Gaul,  and  laboriously  discov- 
er the  adventures  of  the  wandering  .^Sneas.  Then  Aga- 
memnon and  Priam,  Scipio  and  Hannibal  attach  new 
soldiers  to  their  fortunes,  and  there  are  warm  discussions 
by  crowded  (i resides  over  the  relative  merits  of  the  sages 
and  statesmen  and  generals  of  Greece  and  Rome.  Then 
are  feet  twisted  on  the  rungs  of  chairs,  and  brows  wrin- 
kled, and  fingers  spread  in  tangled  hair,  as  the  exasper- 
ating problems  of  Professor  Wentworth  vex  the  brain  of 
sleepy  youth.  Then  are  the  meetings  and  initiations  of 
the  secret  societies,  whose  members  are  bound  by  fearful 
oaths,  and  who  proclaim  their  loyalty  in  jewelled  pins  oil 
their  waistcoats,  and  try  their  best  to  believe  that  the 
members  of  other  societies,  and  particularly  the  unfortu- 
nates who  belong  to  no  society,  are  of  an  order  apart 
from  and  inferior  to  themselves. 

Twice  a  week  throughout  the  year  comes  the  Etonian, 
with  school  news  and  notes  from  other  academies  and 
from  the  colleges.  Its  editorial  page  exhorts  the  students 
to  support  the  nine,  and  to  subscribe  for  the  dances,  and 
admonishes  the  faculty  when  their  resolutions  do  not 
meet  the  approval  of  the  student  body,  and  in  its  columns 
the  budding  Cives  and  Lector  file  their  important  com- 
plaints. Once  a  month  is  published  the  Literary  Maga- 
zine, a  pamphlet  of  more  serious  and  less  ephemeral  inter- 
est. Here  are  the  seeds  of  the  novelette  and  the  dialogue, 
the  critique  and  the  moralizing,  that  later  fill  the  pages  of 
the  Harvard  Advocate  and  the  Yale  Courant.  There  is 
a  small  but  carefully  selected  library  belonging  to  the 
school,  and  a  large  collection  of  books  belonging  to  the 
town  of  Exeter,  to  both  of  which  the  students  have  free 
access.  Indeed,  he  is  a  boy  of  odd  tastes  who  cannot  find 
means  to  enjoy  them  at  Exeter.  There  is  temptation  to 
useful  and  agreeable  occupations  in  plenty,  mental  and 


THEN   THE    SIGNAL    IS    GIVEN    AND    THE    GAME    IS    BEGUN. 


FEBRUARY  19,  1895 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


285 


physical;  next  to  no  inclination  to  vi- 
cious mischief,  for  which,  fortunately, 
there  is  small  room  in  the  peaceful  vil- 
lage. It  only  comes  occasionally  to  the 
ears  of  the  students  in  whispered  stories 
of  Seniors  who  have  been  entertained 
in  Boston  or  New  Haven  by  their  col- 
lege friends,  and  have  sat  in  cafes  and 
smoked  and  drank  beer  in  real  manly 
fashion. 

On  Sundays  all  the  boys  are  required 
to  attend  church  once.  It  used  to  be 
twice  not  very  long  ago.  but  Exeter  has 
shared  in  the  growing  belief  that  the 
religion  which  is  forced  is  a  religion 
of  doubtful  value.  A  student  is  free  to 
choose  anyone  of  the  many  churches  of 
the  town,  but  the  choice  must  be  made 
upon  his  entering  the  school,  and  he 
must  abide  by  it.  Sunday  afternoons 
are  all  his  own.  That  is  the  time  for 
long  rambles  over  the  country  roads, 
or  through  the  woods  to  the  eddy  where  the  Fresh  River 
has  its  rise.  This  for  good  weather;  and  for  stormy  wintei 
days  there  are  fire  and  books  and  calls  and  letters  home. 


THE    ACADEMY. 

What  Yale  is  to  Harvard,  what  Cambridge  is  to  Ox- 
ford, Andover  is  to  Exeter.  A  few  years  before  the  foun- 
dation of  the  academy  at  Exeter  Dr.  John  Phillips  had 
assisted  his  uncle,  Samuel  Phillips,  in  establishing  a 
school  at  Andover,  in  Massachusetts.  This  institution 
in  its  progress  and  history  resembles  strongly  the  Exeter 
school,  and  between  the  students  of  the  two  academies 
there  is  a  strong  though  friendly  rivalry.  They  meet  at 
baseball,  football,  in  track  athletics,  at  tennis,  and  in  de- 
bate. To  represent  the  academy  in  his  chosen  specialty 
is  the  ambition  that  appeals  most  forcibly  to  the  heart  of 
the  Exeter  boy. 

Of  all  the  days  in  the  year  there  are  two  especially 
marked  with  a  red  letter.  These  are  the  days  of  the  an- 
nual football  and  baseball  games  with  Andover.  For 
•weeks  beforehand  the  great  game  is  the  one  topic  of  dis- 
cussion at  the  club  tables,  in  the  school  corridors,  and  in 
the  rooms.  The  strength,  weight,  appearance,  and  form 
of  each  player  are  canvassed  again  and  again.  Rumors 
of  men  of  fabulous  strength  and  size,  induced  to  remain 
at  Andover  long  enough  to  be  added  to  her  team,  come  up 
from  the  south,  and  are  excitably  discussed  and  often 
credited.  For  the  boys  at  school  are  very  much  like 
their  elder  brothers  in  the  colleges  in  their  readiness 
under  pressure  to  believe  bad  things  of  each  other. 

At  last  the  long  period  of  anticipation  conies  to  an  end. 


THE  <;Y.MNASIT;,M. 

Some  Saturday  morning  three  hundred  pairs  of  eyes  ,-irc 
turned  suspiciously  to  the  sky.  No  boy  is  too  young  or 
too  small  to  be  asked  his  opinion  of  the  chances  of  good 
weather.  The  morning  lessons  receive  a  perfunctory  at- 
tention, luncheon  is  bolted  in  haste,  and  the  occasion  is  at 
hand. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  long  flies  of  boys  move  along 
elm-shaded  Front  Street  to  the  campus,  and  not  boys 
alone,  but  all  of  the  good  people  of  Exeter  who  can  possi- 
bly give  the  time;  for  this  clay  is,  by  common  consent,  the 
school  day,  and  the  interest  of  the  townspeople  is  only 
second  to  that  of  the  boys  themselves.  Some  of  the  older 
boys  are  in  all  the  glory  of  tail  coats  and  canes,  and  are 
escorting  ladies.  All  the  boys  are  decked  with  crimson 
ribbon,  and  their  eyes  dance  with  the  keen  pleasure  and 
excitement  of  the  moment.  Gray-suited  figures  in  red 
stockings  move  in  twos  and  threes,  conversing  earnestly 
in  low  tones,  and  no  boy  is  impertinent  enough  to  disturb 
those  conferences  by  an  interruption.  The  wooden  benches 
at  the  side  of  the  field  are  quickly  filled,  and  soon  along 
the  opposite  side  troops  the  enemy — the  same  boys,  one 
would  say,  but  for  the  blue  ribbons  they  sport  in  coat  lap- 
els and  on  hats  and  canes.  At  the  ends  are  massed  the 
buggies  and  carryalls  of  the  farmers,  who  have  come  in 
for  the  game,  and  sometimes  there  is  a  gay  coach  from 
Portsmouth,  crowded  with  jolly  school-girls  and  their 
escorts.  But  stop!  A  group  of  blue  stockings  run  on 
the  field,  and  pandemonium  breaks  loose.  On  the  An- 
dover side,  P-h-i-1-l-i-p-s  rah !  rah !  rah  !  the  cheers  roll 


AN    EXONIAX'S    ROOM. 


286 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


out,  and  E-x-e-t-e-r  P-E-A  rah!  rnh!  rah!  comes  the 
reply. 

The  boys  are  splitting  their  throats  for  their  favbrites. 
':  Look  at  that  big  fellow,  will  you,  "says  a  cautious  young 
Exonian  to  his  neighbor. 

"Pshaw!"  is  the  confident  reply;  "just  wait  till  big 
Peters  runs  against  him!" 

Then  amid  the  frantic  cheers  there  is  a  moment's  pause, 
the  players  take  their  positions,  the  signal  is  given,  the 
cheers  burst  out  again  in  renewed  strength  and  volume, 
and  the  game  is  begun.  The  two  crowded  hours  of  glori- 
ous strife  are  come.  Andover  scores;  a  tempest  of  cheers 
breaks  from  her  partisans,  and  her  benches  are  a  mass  of 
waving  blue  and  tossing  hats  and  canes.  For  a  brief 
time  the  delirious  crowd  is  regarded  in  envious  silence 
from  across  the  field,  but  "Courage,  Exeter,  courage,  all 
our  hearts  are  with  you !"  is  the  message  of  the  steady 
cheers  from  the  school  seats,  and  the  Exeter  players 
respond.  A  few  minutes  more  struggle,  and  the  score  is 
tied.  A  burst  of  crimson  flags  and  a  mighty  roar  from  a 
thousand  throats  greet  this  success. 

"Ah, "thinks  the  happy  boy  who  scored  this  point, 
"if  I  could  die  now.  with  these  plaudits  ringing  in  my 
ears !" 

Again  the  champions  strive,  and  again  the  point  is  Exe- 
ter's. She  is  ahead.  The  most  ignorant  spectator  knows 
that  by  the  dancing  figures  and  the  howling  mass  that 
rise  from  the  Exeter  seats,  while  the  blue  flags  are  hidden, 
and  a  wretched  silence  oppresses  the  Andover  hosts.  To 
keep  the  lead,  that  is  now  the  hope.  Andover  must  not 
score  again,  and  she  does  not.  At  last  i'.  is  all  over. 

"  Now,  then,"  cries  the  Exeter  captain,  "three  times 
three  for  Andover!''  and  the  cheers  respond  generously. 
A  similar  compliment  follows  from  the  Andover  team, 
and  then  there  is  a  rush  for  the  players;  they  are  lifted 
high  on  the  shoulders  of  their  adorers,  and  the  field  is 
soon  deserted.  Only  the  broken  sod  and  a  red  cap  or  a 
bit  of  canvas  testify  to  the  mighty  struggle  that  has  been. 

Slowly  the  boys  in  blue  climb  into  their  barge,  and 
slowly  and  sadly  their  followers  escort  them  to  the  station. 
When  the  Portland  express  rushes  in  the  passengers  can 
see  nothing  but  boys.  The  cars  rock  with  the  cheering. 
The  Andover  boys  crowd  into  their  cars,  the  bell  rings, 
and  the  train  rolls  slowly  out,  past  the  Exeter  lads  who 
line  the  platform,  cheering  heartily  for  their  vanquished 
foes.  The  academy  bell,  too,  has  been  ringing  this  hour, 
telling  to  all  the  country-side  that  Andover  is  beaten. 

There  are  happy  dinners  in  Exeter  that  night.  The 
victorious  players  are  parcelled  out  among  the  various 
clubs  as  guests,  too  precious  to  dine  all  together. 

Sometimes,  for  truth  must  be  told,  the  day  is  lost.  It 
is  Andover  that  'scores  again.  It  is  the  Andover  cheers 
that  rock  the  station,  and  then  there  are  silent  dinners  at 
Exeter,  and  rooms  are  sought  early,  the  neglected  books 
are  opened,  and  the  importance  of  examinations  is  sud- 
denly brought  home  to  the  disappointed  boys. 

Another  of  the  great  occasions  of  school  life  is  the  visit 
of  the  trustees  at  the  end  of  the  term.  These  great  men 
are  conducted  to  the  various  class-rooms,  where  they  look 
wisely  about  them,  and  pretend  they  have  not  forgotten 
their  school-boy  knowledge,  and  could  step  down  from 
the  platform  and  read  Homer  at  sight,  or  solve  one 
of  Professor  Wentworth's  ingenious  puzzles  with  the 
greatest  ease,  if  dignity  would  but  allow  it.  Recitations 
close  at  noon  on  that  day,  and  the  whole  school  assembles 
in  the  chapel  to  hear  a  short  address  from  one  of  the  vis- 
itors. The  school  rises  as  the  trustees  enter,  and  remains 
standing  until  the  august  guests  have  taken  their  seats 
on  the  platform.  There  are  some  short  exercises,  and 
then  comes  the  moment  so  impatiently  longed  for.  The 
senior  teacher  rises  and  gives  the  signal,  whereupon  there 
are  three  such  outbursts  of  hand-clappings  as  only  happy 
school-boys  at  the  close  of  the  term  can  give.  This  hand- 


clapping  is  a  time-honored  custom  of  the  school,  only 
performed  on  the  occasion  described,  and  when  there  is  a 
graduate  in  the  chapel. 

It  is  a  proud  day  for  the  Exonian  when  he  returns  to 
town  from  college  in  all  the  pride  and  panoply  of  college 
Freshrnanship.  His  company  is  eagerly  sought  for  at 
the  club  tables,  where  he  delights  his  hosts  with  stories 
of  the  freedom  of  Harvard  life,  and  of  the  larger  school 
to  which  he  has  graduated.  He  tells  them  what  Exeter 
men  are  on  the  eleven,  and  who  are  going  to  be.  He 
throws  invitations  broadcast  to  come  down  and  see  him 
at  Thanksgiving.  "Beck,  22,  you  know,"  or  "  Holyoke  " 
"  We'll  make  it  jolly  for  you."  But  when  he  returns  to 
the  university,  with  all  his  independence,  he  misses  in 
the  conflict  of  selBsh  interests  the  old  companionship 
and  unity  of  interest  of  his  school  days,  and,  as  he  ex- 
presses it,  "  fain  would  be  a  boy  again." 

In  the  late  spring  the  Exeter  boy's  bosom  is  torn  by 
the  conflict  between  duty  and  inclination.  The  latter 
leads  him  to  the  campus  to  watch  the  practice  of  the  nine, 
or  to  the  crowded  tennis  courts,  or  up  the  clear  and  tran- 
quil little  river  to  the  cool  shades  of  the  eddy.  But  the 
final  examinations  oppress  him  with  fear.  Before  the 
senior  and  the  middle  looms  up  the  dread  spectre  of  the 
college-entrance  examinations,  where  he  knows  a  strict 
account  will  be  demanded  of  the  use  he  has  made  of  his 
opportunities.  Yet  these  terrors,  in  turn,  slip  away  into 
the  past. 

The  four  years  are  ended  all  too  soon — a  complaint, 
I  fear,  of  which  this  description  stands  in  no  danger. 
The  day  comes  when  the  school  account  is  closed  for 
good  or  evil.  On  Class  day,  when  the  speeches  are  all 
spoken,  the  songs  all  sung,  the  Class  tree  planted,  the 
June  ball  over,  before  he  turns  to  his  new  life  in  college 
or  business,  the  Exeter  boy  looks  back  with  tender  affec- 
tion to  the  four  years  of  his  school  life,  and  wonders  if 
the  future  holds  for  him  pleasures  as  keen,  tasks  as  hard, 
and  associations  and  friendships  as  dear  as  those  he  has 
left  behind.  And  this  affection  in  Exeter  boys  is  strong 
and  constant  in  Exeter  men,  who  cherish  always  their 
memories  of  the  old  academy  days. 


W1 


A   SURE   CURE. 

HEX  the  snow  begins  to  fall 
On  the  lawns  and  tree-tops  tall, 
Anil  the  Mizzurd  is  a  blustering  through  the  slow  old  village 
street, 

Then  I  hie  me  from  my  hed, 
And  get  out  my  old  hob-sled, 

And    I    polish  up  the  runners   till   they  shine  like  glistening 
sleet. 

When  they  ring  the  breakfast-bell, 

I  announce  I  am  not  well, 
And  I  sigh  and  say  I'm  tired,  and   am   simply  just   worn  out; 

And  my  mother  says  she  thinks, 

As  my  weary  eyelid  blinks, 
That  I'd  best  not  go  to  school  to-day  there  isn't  any  doubt. 

But  by  ten  o'clock  I  feel 

So  recovered   that  au  eel 
Could  not  give  me  any  points  on  moving  constantly  around, 

All  the  pain  deserts  my  head. 

And  I  take  the  old  bob-sled, 

And    am    shortly  whizzing   with    it   o'er  the  snow  -  incrusted 
ground. 

Whence  I  think  'tis  very  plain 
That  to  cure  a  small  boy's  pain, 

And    to   get    him    back  to  health   without   au  ache  within  his 
head, 

There  is  not  a  dose  or  pill 
That  so  fully  fills  the  bill 

As   a   good  old  well-packed  snow-fall,  and  a  chance  to   use  a 
sled. 


FEBRUARY  19,  1S95. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


287 


THE   STRANGE  ADVENTURES   OF  TOMMY 
TODDLES. 

BY   ALBERT    LEE. 
CHAPTER     X. 

WITH  the  Clauis  was  a  strange  creature  that  looked  to  be 
lialf  horse  and  half  vegetable.  It  had  tour  lioofs,  and 
all  the  rest  were  leaves. 

"What  in  the  world  is  that  with  the  Clams?"  asked  the  little 
boy. 

"  That's  the  Horse-radish,"  answered  the  Sheep. 

"Horse-radish  always  goes  with  Clams,  you  know, "said  the 
ex-Pirate,  condescendingly. 

"Of  course;  I  ought  to  have  thought  of  that,"  said  Tommy. 
"And  with  Oysters  too." 

"But  the  Oysters  are  away  now,"  said  one  of  the  Clams. 
"They've  gone  away  for  the  summer.  They  never  stay  about 
in  May,  June,  July,  and  August." 

"  Awfully  high-toned  mollusks,  those  Oysters,"  sniffed  a  Little 
Neck  Clam. 

"  Yes  ;  just  think  of  having  four  months'  vacation  every  year," 
said  another. 

•'  I  was  talking  with  a  little  Oyster  ill  his  bed  the  other  day," 
continued  the  first  Clam,  "and  he  said  four  months  wasn't  half 
enough." 

"  He  must  have  been  a  very  young  one,"  ventured  the  Horse- 
radish. 

"That's  the  way  with  those  young  ones,"  commented  Thing- 
umbob. "You  give  them  an  Inch -worm  and  they  want  an 
Elephant." 

"  I  notice  the  old  Oysters  are  glad  enough  to  get  a  rest  of  four 
months."  continued  the  Horse-radish. 

"I  suppose  they  think  half  a  loaf  is  better  than  no  vacation 
at  all." 

"  How  odd  of  them  !"  put  in  Tommy. 

"Odd  f"  queried  the  ex-Pirate.  "Don't  you  like  the  Oysters? 
Or  do  you  prefer  the  society  of  the  Clams  ;'" 

"Oh,  I  like  Oysters,  and  I  like  Clams  too." 

"Clam  stew!"  shrieked  the  Little  Neck  Clam  in  great  dismay. 

"Too, "said  Tommy,  who  noticed  that  the  Clams  were  becom- 
ing very  much  alarmed. 

"Two?"  repeated  Thingumbob,  with  woful  lack  of  tact; 
•'  why,  I've  seeu  chowders  where  there  was  only  one  Clam." 
But  this  line  of  conversation  had  become  so  distasteful  to  the 
Clams  that  they  were  rapidly  sinking  into  the  sand.  Thingum- 
bob noticed  this,  and  branched  off  on  to  another  subject.  "I 
know  why  the  Oysters  go  away  in  the  summer,"  he  said;  "  it's 
because  they  don't  like  the  Flies.  The  Flies  go  away  in  the 
winter,  yon  know." 

"So  do  we,"  said  the  Clam,  now  somewhat  reassured. 

"Where  do  the  Flies  go  to?"  asked  Tommy.  "I've  always 
wondered  where  they  went  in  the  winter-time." 

'•That's  what  the  Pink-eyed  Gosliug  asked,"  said  Thingum- 
bob. 

"What?" 

"  He  asked  where  the  Flies  went." 

"And  it's  a  classic,  too.  Another  one  of  my  classics,"  put  in 
the  ex-Pirate.  "  Would  you  like  to  hear  it  ?" 

"Go  ahead!  Go  ahead!"  said  Thingumbob,  pounding  ou  the 
rock  with  his  dipper.  "  Go  ahead,  whether  he  wants  to  hear  it 
or  not.  We'll  hold  him." 

And  so  the  ex-Pirate  bowed  to  all,  and  began  to  recite,  in  bis 
usual  melodramatic  manner : 

"  Where  do  the  Flies  go  in  winter-time  ?" 

The  Pink-eyed  Gosling  asked. 
"They  go  to  a  balmy,  distant  clime, 
Where  the  sun  is  never  masked; 
To  a  land  where  clouds  are  still  unknown, 
Where  the  cold  north  wind  has  never  blown, 
And  the  seeds  of  sin  are  yet  unsown, 
Where  all  is  true  and  good." 

"And  do  the  lutle  Flies  remain 

All  winter  in  this  land. 
Or  do  they  find  the  constant  strain 
Too  great  for  them  to  stand  ? 
For,  even  with  the  little  Flies, 
It  seems  occasion  must  arise 
To  weary  of  the  cloudless  skies, 
Where  all  is  true  and  good." 


The  Gander  knit  his  furrowed  brow, 

Anil    frowned  upon  his  child, 
And  said,  "'Tis  plain  to  see  that  thou 
Art  yet  both  young  and  wild ; 

But  hearken  to  the  old  who  preach, 
And  listen  to  the  wise  who  teach, 
Or  else  that  land  thou'It  never  re;>ch 
Where  all  is  true  and  good." 

X ie  had  apparently  noticed   it,  but  while  the  ex-Pirate 

was  reciting,  the  six  Clams  had  sunk  into  the  sand  until  they 
were  wholly  out  of  sight,  and  the  Horse-radish  had  entirely 
withered  away.  Thingumbob  sighed  when  it  was  all  over,  and 
began  brushing  his  hair  again.  He  also  brushed  his  whiskers, 
for  they  had  growu  out  anew.  Presently  he  said,  "Since  \  on 
are  speaking  poetry,  how  do  you  like  this : 

Quoth  the  Codfish  to  the  Pelican : 

"Can  you  swim  as  well  as  I? 
If  you  do  not  know  how  well  I  can, 

I'll  let  you  see  me  try." 

"  Is  that  all  ?"  asked  Tommy,  after  a  pause. 
"  That's  all." 
"And  what  happened  ?" 

"Nothing  happened.  Nothing  ever  happens,"  added  Thing- 
umbob, rather  peevishly.  "  For  instance : 

The  Zebra  and  the  Crocodile, 

The  Quagga  and  the  Gnu, 
All  started  out  one  afternoon 

To  see  what  they  could  do. 

They  wandered  quite  a  long  ways  off, 

And  had  such  loads  of  fun, 
That  when  they  came  back  home  again 

None  knew  what  they  had  done. 

And  so,  you  see,  practically,  or  as  far  as  the  outside  world  was 
concerned,  nothing  happened." 

The  ex-Pirate  pulled  Tommy  off  a  little  to  one  side  and  whis- 
pered in  his  ear:  "He's  that  way.  You  see,  he's  been  talking 
too  much.  Let  us  leave  him  alone  and  go  on  our  way." 

But  Tommy  suspected  that  the  real  reason  why  the  ex-Pirate 
wanted  to  leave  was  because  he  was  becoming  jealous  of  Thing- 
umbob. Nevertheless,  as  the  Sheep  was  also  inclined  to  pro- 
ceed, they  bade  farewell  to  him  and  continued  along  the  beach. 
Tommy  noticed,  as  they  walked  on,  that  the  beach  gradually 
became,  harder  and  harder  to  the  step,  and  that  the  sand  no 
longer  gave  way  beneath  his  feet  as  softly  as  well-regulated 
sand  should.  He  would  not  have  minded  such  a  thing,  prob- 
ably, if  he  had  not  been  somewhat  fatigued  by  his  long  walk, 
but  he  was  a  tired  little  boy  by  this  time,  and  did  not  much 
care  to  have  his  progress  made  any  more  difficult.  He  looked 
down  at  the  sand  to  see  what  the  trouble  was,  and  discov- 
ered that  there  was  no  longer  any  sand  there  at  all.  He  was 
now  walking  along  on  shingles.  He  looked  about  him,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  lie  and  his  companions  were  travelling  ou  the  roofs 
of  houses  that  had  been  built  so  closely  together  that  there  was 
no  room  for  streets  in  between  them.  And  the  rocks,  too,  that 
had  been  scattered  along  the  shore  had  in  some  unaccountable 
manner  disappeared  to  give  place  to  chimneys,  out  of  some  of 
which  thin  clouds  of  smoke  coiled  skyward. 

"Where  are  we  now  .'"  asked  the  little  boy,  when  he  had  com- 
pletely taken  in  the  transformation  of  his  surroundings. 

"Where  are  we?"  echoed  the  Sheep,  as  if  he  did  not  quite 
understand  the  question. 

"  Yes  ;  what  are  we  walking  on  ?" 

"Oh,  I  see.  Why,  this  is  the  shingle  beach.  There  aren't 
many  like  this.  Isu't  it  queer?  But  we  will  be  off  of  it  in  a 
minute,"  and,  sure  enough,  a  few  rods  further  on  the  shingles 
melted  into  sand  again,  and  the  rocks  ceased  to  be  chimm -\s. 
and  the  landscape  became  as  perfectly  natural  as  it  had  been 
before. 

"There  it  is!"  shouted  the  ex-Pirate,  just  after  they  had  left 
the  shingle  beach  behind  them.  "There's  the  Penguin's  house," 
and  he  directed  Tommy's  attention  to  a  queer-looking  structure 
about  two  hundred  yards  ahead  of  them,  sheltered  by  a  low 
cliff' and  well  set  back  from  the  sea. 

"Is  that  where  the  Penguin  lives?" 

"That's  the  place.  That's  his  office,  too.  Don't  you  see  THE 
TIDAL  WAVE  written  up  over  the  door?" 

Tommy  Toddles  had  made  up  his  mind  not  to  be  astonished 
any  more  at  anything  he  might  see  that  day,  or  he  doubtless 


288 


HARPER'S  YOUNG 'PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


BOBBY.  "I  wish  my  birth- 
day «  as  not  tb'e  22d  of  Feb- 
ruary." 

JACK.  "Why  not?" 

BOBBY.  "Oh!  every  one 
thinks  because  George  Wash- 
ington never  told  a  lie,  I 
ought  not  to." 


WHERE   AND   HOW. 
WILLIE.     "Tommy    Jones 

went   and  hit   me   an    awful 

crack  with  an  apple." 
PAPA.  '•  On  purpose?" 
WILLIE.  "No,  on  the  nose." 


A  NATURAL  CONCLUSION'. 

BOBBY.  "  Have   I   a  little 
drum  in  my  ear,  mamma  .'" 
MAMMA.  "  Yes,  Bobby." 
BOBBY.  "Then,  I  suppose, 
the  jackass  must  have  a  bass- 
drum  in  his." 


II li  KNOWS  IT  THEN 
I   CANNOT  spell 
So  very   well, 
But  when  I  see 
A  C-A-T 
Below  a  cat, 
I  know  it's  that. 


'HORSE-RADISH    ALWAYS    GOES    WITH  CLAMS,  YOU    KNOW,"    SAID    THE    EX-PIRATE. 


would  have  been  much  more  impressed  than  he  was  with  the 
Penguin's  mansion,  and  later  with  the  Penguin  himself  and  with 
his  queer  establishment.  The  house  was  built  of  oyster  and 
clam  shells,  and  had  four  columns  in  front  of  it.  These  columns 
were  profusely  decorated  with  lobster  claws  and  crabs  and  star- 
fish, and  supported  a  sort  of  triangular  pediment,  along  the  base 
of  which  was  written  in  shiny  pebbles  the  name  of  the  Penguin's 
newspaper,  and  on  the  apex  of  which  roosted  a  large  stone  Gar- 
goyle. That  is,  he.  looked  to  be  of  stone,  for  he  was  gray  of 
color  and  sat  perfectly  still ;  but  as  the  three  came  nearer, 
Tommy  could  plainly  see,  that  the  thing  had  red  eyes,  and  that 
the  red  eyes  were  firmly  fixed  on  him.  The  house  was  fairly 
large,  and  had  a  wide  front  door  and  several  windows,  through 
which,  even  from  a  distance,  you  could  see  into  the  interior  of 
the  rooms,  where  the  Penguin  appeared  to  be  very  busy  at  his 
work. 

On  the  steps  outside  were  a  crowd  of  little  crabs  that  were 
all  talking  at  ouce,  and  pitching  pennies  and  squabbling  with 
one  another,  just  like  a  pack  of  very  badly  behaved  young  crus- 
taceans that  they  were. 

[TO  BE  CONTINUED.] 


PLANS  FOR  THE  FUTURE. 
"  I'M  going  to  be  a  lawyer 
when  I  grow  up, "said  Walter. 

"I'm  not,"  said  Jimmie.      "I'm  going  to  keep  a  candy  store, 
and  be  rich  enough  to  cat  it  all  up  myself." 


COULDN'T  USE   IT. 

'•  You  are  never  satisfied,  Jimmie,"  said  his  mother.  "Here 
you  have  a  beautiful  bob-sled,  and  yet  you're  moping  all  the 
time." 

"Well,  I  can't  help  it.  Papa  had  ought  to  get  me  a  hill  to 
slide  dowu  now.  You  won't  let  me  use  it  on  the  stairs." 


A   GOOD  REASON. 

PAPA.  "  But  why  would  you  like  to  be  an  astronomer  when 
yon  grow  up,  Tommy  ?" 

TOMMY.  "  Because  then  I  would  only  have  to  go  to  night- 
school  when  the  stars  are  out  to  study." 


TOMMY'S   EXPLANATION. 
THE  difference  between  the  chair  with  wheels, 

And  the  rocking-chair  I  know; 
The  chair  with  wheels  is  for  summer-time, 

And  the  chair  with  runners  for  snow. 


TWO    REASONS. 

JOHNNY.  "  I  should  think  Japan  would  be  a  great  place  for 
football,  papa." 

PAPA.  "Why,  Johnny  ?" 

JOHNNY.  "  Why,  because  the  Japs  have  such  long  hair,  and  be- 
sides the}'  live  in  the  land  of  the  chrysanthemum." 


"Jack,  you've  been  skating  this  afternoon  instead 
of  attending  school." 

JACK.  "I  know  it ;  but  you  see,  mamma,  we  had  our  aril  lime- 
tic  class  this  afternoon,  and  our  professor,  he's  a  dandy,  decided 
to  give  us  a  lesson  in  fancy  figures  on  the  ice,  so  I  had  to  go." 


WILLIE'S   WINTER  THOUGHT. 
OUT  in  the  night,  where  the   wild  winds  wfng, 

And  through  the  gray  trees  go  whee/.iug, 
It's  funny  the  poor  little   birds  don't  sing, 

Ju>t  to  keep  their  pipes  from  freezing. 


TODDLETUMS.  "  Mamma,  what  are  angels  ?" 
MOTHKU.  "  They  are  the  armies  of  the  Lord,  my  child." 
TODDLKTUMS   (after  thinking  deeply).  "Then  the  stars  must  be 
their  camp-fires  at  night." 


FOR    COMIC    VALENTINE. 


Suggestion  to  the  Post-office  Department  for  a  series  of  special 
St.  V;ik-ntine's  day  week. 


FOR    SENTIMENTAL    VALENTINE, 
stamps  for 


H 


HARPERS 


TOUNG  PEOPLE 


C"i.yrli;hl,  1895,  by  HARPKB  &  BR 


:3.     All  Rights  Ree 


PUBLISHED    WEEKLY. 
VOL.   XVI. — NO.   800. 


NEW  YORK,   TUESDAY,  FEBRUARY  26,  1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO   DOLLARS    A    YEAR. 


LORELEI     OF    THE     SHOW=BILLS. 


T1HIS  was  how  it  happened  that  the  Lorelei  had  the 
little  black  mare  on  the  morning  of  the  great  freshet, 
which  will  be  long  remembered  in  Millbank.  Polly 
Westlake,  of  Millbank,  away  at  boarding-school,  was 
puckering  what  the  girls  called  her  fine  Greek  brows 
over  her  German,  when  Dorothy  Hackett,  her  room- 
mate, who  was  toasting  a  plump  marshmallow  over  the 
gas  and  reading  a  letter  from  home  at  the  same  time,  re- 
marked carelessly,  "  Polly,  Sid  says  your  brother  Pills- 
bury  didn't  ride  over  to  Clarion  to  see  him,  as  he  prom- 
ised to,  because  there  was  a  limp  in  the  black  mare's  leg." 
Polly  made  a  great  blot  on  her  exercise,  and  sprang  up 
as  if  she  had  been  shot.  "  Oh,  that  Pill ;  lie's  been  riding 
my  Cetta!"  she  cried.  "And  he's  so  rough!  I  know 
what  I'll  do,"  she  added,  after  a  moment's  reflection. 


"  I'll  have  Cetta  sent  down  to  the  Lorelei,  and  let  her  and 
her  uncle  take  care  of  her  until  I  am  at  home  again." 

"Sent  to  whom?"  asked  Dorothy. 

"The  people  from  whom  I  bought  her.  Didn't  I  ever 
tell  you?  Queer  people  they  are,  for  a  little  western 
Pennsylvania  town.  A  show  left  them  stranded  there ;  the 
old  man  had  rheumatic  fever,  and  the  girl  wouldn't  leave 
him.  She  was  called  the  'Lorelei'  on  the  show-bills;  she 
isn't  sixteen  yet.  I  think,  and  that  was  a  year  ago.  She 
sat  on  a  sort  of  pink  candy  rock,  with  a  harp,  and  her  hair 
down.  Then  the  rock  went  up  out  of  sight,  to  slow  mu- 
sic, and  she  dashed  down  011  a  trapeze.  The  old  man  was 
a  horse -trainer  and  a  sword-swallower,  and  he's  very 
proticl  of  his  feats.  People  won't  associate  with  them  be- 
cause they  were  in  a  show;  they're  Italian,  too,  and 


290 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVL 


speak  very  queer  English.  The  boys  tease  the  old  man, 
and  Lory  told  me.  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  that  a  girl  said 
'  they  were  not  like  other  peoples.'  " 

"Poor  thing-!"  said  Dorothy,  sympathetically,  as  she 
toasted  another  marshmallow. 

"  They  paid  the  last  cent  they  had  in  the  world  for  the 
little  black  mare.  She  was  a  trick  pony,  and  they  said 
she  was  abused.  They  wouldn't  have  sold  her  to  papa  if 
they  hadn't  been  frightfully  poor.  I'll  write  to  papa  this 
very  minute  and  ask  him  to  send  the  mare  to  Lory. 
They  have  a  little  barn  behind  their  little  log  and  plaster 
house."  And  so  she  did  forthwith. 

"For  me  to  keep  till  she  comes  home?"  Lorelei 
seized  the  little  black  mare's  bridle  with  an  eagerness  that 
made  the  color  come  and  go  in  her  olive  cheek'.  The 
mare  rubbed  her  nose  against  the  olive  cheek,  and  whin- 
nied softly. 

"My  sister  said  in  her  letter  that  she  didn't  want  me 
laming  her.  I  don't  know  what  she  meant,"  said  Pill 
Westlake,  gruffly. 

"  She  is  not  lame?"  inquired  the  girl,  anxiously  exam- 
ining the  mare's  slender  legs. 

"Of  course  not,  "answered  Pill,  contemptuously;  "some 
girl's  notion  that  she'd  got  into  her  head.  /  didn't  want 
to  ride  her  old  horse,  anyway.  My  black  mare  was  lame; 
I've  just  got  it  fixed;  it  will  beat  that  one  all  hollow  !" 

"Your  mare?  oh,  I  know  what  you  mean" — the  girl 
showed  her  large  'white  teeth  in  a  broad  smile.  "A 
boy  will  like  his  bicycle;  it  is  natural,"  she  added,  with 
an  air  of  friendly  tolerance;  "  but  to  say  it  will  beat 
Cetta — oh  no,  no!" 

"  I'll  show  you  one  of  these  days, "said  Pill,  carelessly. 
Then  with  a  few  words  about  the  care  of  Cetta  and  the 
payment  to  be  made  for  it,  he  sauntered  away. 

He  felt  a  friendly  feeling  enough,  for  the  girl;  he  had 
even  noticed  that  she  looked  as  if  life  went  hard  with 
her;  but  yet  when,  just  as  he  was  turning  away,  her  old 
uncle  came  along,  he  called  out  to  him  : 

"Hullo,  old  Polonaise!  I  know  your  sword-swallow- 
ing secret  that  you  think  nobody  knows!"  He  had  let 
the  old  man  pass  him,  and  turned  around,  walking  back- 
ward slowly,  as  he  called  out  to  him. 

The  old  man  did  not  turn  his  head,  but  the  girl's  face 
grew  white  with  anger — or  with  pain. 

"It's  only  that  you  didn't  swallow  'em!"  shouted  Pill. 

The  girl  swooped  upon  him,  and  seized  him  by  the 
arm  with  a  fierce  grip. 

"Don't  say  that  again — don't  let  him  hear  you!  It 
would  keell  him!  None  of  them,  I  think,  have  evva  say 
that!" 

"Pooh!  of  course  everybody  knows  it  was  only  make- 
believe,"  said  Pill,  contemptuously,  and  he  said  it  so  loud 
that  the  old  man  must  have  heard,  though  he  did  not 
turn  his  head. 

The  girl's  face  suddenly  flamed  with  wrath,  and  she 
poured  forth  a  torrent  of  angry  words  in  a  tongue  which 
Pill  did  not  understand.  He  knew  by  her  gestures  that 
she  was  making  direful  threats,  and  he  retreated  rapidly, 
still  keeping  his  face  to  the  enemy's  fire.  She  seemed  a 
regular  little  spitfire,  he  said  to  himself,  and  one  didn't 
want  to  have  a  fuss  with  a  girl. 

In  his  heart  Pill  felt  very  much  ashamed  of  himself. 
It  was  the  fashion  to  make  fun  of  that  old  man;  he 
had  done  it  thoughtlessly.  He  didn't  suppose  the  girl's 
threats  of  vengeance  meant  much;  certainly  she  would 
not  harm  Cetta;  nevertheless,  as  he  walked  away,  Pill 
was  uneasy  as  well  as  ashamed. 

It  was  March,  and  Polly  Westlake  had  come  home  to 
Millbank  for  the  spring  vacation — late  in  March,  but  the 
winter  had  been  long  and  cold,  and  the  ice  had  not  yet 
gone  out  of  the  river.  It  was  the  great  event  of  the  year 
when  the  ice  went  out 


Now  there  had  come  a  thaw;  Polly  had  been  driven 
home  from  the  station  late  at  night  in  a  pouring  rain, 
and  she  had  found  Pill  full  of  excitement  about  the 
probable  freshet. 

Had  he  remembered  to  bring  Cetta  home  in  view  of 
her  expected  return?  Of  course  he  had  not!  Was  it  a 
time  to  think  of  horses  when  the  river  was  likely  to  "get 
on  the  rampage."  as  the  old  boatmen  said.  Pill  didn't. 
even  think  to  make  fun  of  her  for  her  ridiculous  scare 
about  the  broken  hind  wheel  of  his  bicycle.  It  was 
prophesied  that  when  the  ice  went  out  the  bridge  that 
spanned  the  river  between  Millbank  and  Lowder  City 
would  go  too.  A  fellow  wanted  to  be  on  hand  to  see  that 
sight!  All  along  the  river-banks  people  were  watching 
their  property  that  night.  Pill  would  have  watched,  if 
he  had  been  allowed  to;  he  meant  to  keep  awake,  but,  as 
has  perhaps  happened  to  other  boys  with  such  intentions, 
he  fell  asleep  the  moment  his  head  touched  the  pillow. 

It  was  Polly  who  lay  awake  for  a  long  time,  listening 
to  the  rain  and  to  a  hoarse  murmur,  that  grew  louder 
and  louder,  and  finally  mingled  queer! y  with  her  dreams. 

It  was  not  yet  daylight  when  she  awoke.  Some  men 
running  by  the  house  were  shouting  to  each  other  that 
the  ice  was  going  out.  Polly  dressed  herself  hurriedly, 
and  slipped  out  of  the  house.  She  heard  no  one  stirring 
in  the  house,  and  she  decided  not  to  arouse  the  children  ; 
that  would  cause  delay,  and  she  might  miss  the  wonder- 
ful sight.  For  one  reason  or  another  she  had  always 
missed  it;  she  had  been  away  at  school,  or  it  had  hap- 
pened in  the  night,  or  she  had  been  too  late. 

The  flaring  flame  of  the  natural  gas  with  which  the 
town  was  lighted  mingled  strangely  with  the  gray  light 
of  the  early  dawn;  the  hoarse  murmur  had  grown  to  a 
roaring  and  crashing  that  was  like  the  noise  of  artillery. 
As  she  n eared  the  river  a  bicycle  ahead  of  her,  now  visi- 
ble, now  lost  in  the  throng,  had  attracted  her  attention; 
there  was  something  familiar  in  the  sturdy  back  and  the 
closely  cropped  curly  head  of  the  rider.  Suddenly  a 
gleam  of  yellow  flannel  and  some  tossing  lint-white  curls 
caught  her  eve  from,  the  front  of  the  bicycle. 

"  Pill  Westlake,  you  have  Bob!"  she  cried,  aghast. 

"The  poor  little  chap  hollered  so,  and  I  couldn't  get 
Nannie  "(his  nurse)  "to  wake  up.  /dressed  him — well, 
he's  good  and  warm,  anyhow,"  said  Pill,  shamefacedly, 
as  Polly  laughed,  in  spite  of  her  dismay,  at  the  yellow 
flannel  pajamas  which  candidly  revealed  themselves 
under  Bob's  short  dress  skirts.  "You  needn't  be  afraid  ; 
he  hangs  on  like  a  trooper,"  called  Pill,  as  the  bicycle 
disappeared  from  Polly's  sight. 

A  few  minutes  after  Pill  was  wishing  that  he  had  left 
Bob  with  Polly.  Nick  Haven,  the  mill  superintendent's 
son,  had  "stumped  "him  to  ride  across  the  bridge  on  his 
bicycle.  There  were  different  opinions  about  the  safety 
of  the  bridge,  and  of  course  there  was  much  excitement. 
There  had  been  a  great  amount  of  snow  upon  the  hills  to 
swell  the  flood,  the  ice  was  of  unusual  thickness,  and 
there  were  huge  blocks  that  were  wallowing  about  like 
living  monsters,  and  piling  themselves  up  into  tall  glist- 
ening bergs,  to  be  hurled  like  battering-rams  against  the 
bridge. 

But  Pill  said,  Pooh  !  people  had  always  said  that  bridge 
would  be  carried  away,  and  it  never  had  been.  Of  course 
he  would  ride  across  it;  he  wouldn't  "  take  a  stump,"  any- 
way. So  he  left  Bob  to  the  care  of  little  Dick  Fraserand 
Tommy  Upham — boys  of  eight  and  ten — and  off  he  spun 
on  the  straining,  groaning  bridge. 

There  were  many  people  gathered  at  the  end,  where 
escape  would  be  easy  at  the  first  sign  of  the  bridge's  giv- 
ing way,  and  they  called  after  Pill,  some  in  warning,  some 
with  mocking  cheers.  Every  one  knew  of  Pill  Westlake's 
boast  that  his  bic3rcle  was  the  fastest  one  in  town,  and  he 
was  only  to  go  over  and  back;  perhaps  he  could  do  it. 

Pill  felt  himself  to  be  a  very  brave  boy,  as  many  an- 


FEBRUARY  '26,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


291 


other  had  done,  when  he  was  only  foolhardy.  He  was 
nearly  midway  of  the  bridge  when  the  crash  came.  The 
bridge  was  cut  in  two,  and  Pill,  dazed  and  stunned  for 
a  minute,  found  himself  drifting-  down  tlie  river  on  half 
of  it. 

It  was  on  the  home  side  of  the  river;  if  it  would  only 
float  a  little  farther  towards  the  shore  he  would  try  to 
jump  off  on  to  one  of  the  large  ice-cakes  that  were  drift- 
ing about  there,  and  make  his  way  to  land. 

Suddenly  Pill  caught  sight  of  something  on  one  of  those 
floating  ice-cakes  that  made  his  heart  stand  still — a  bit  of 
brilliant  yellow!  A  little  figure  with  floating  lint-white 
locks  was  stretching  pitiful,  entreating  hands  towards  the 
shore! 

Pill  will  never  forget  the  agony  of  self  reproach  that 
lie  felt  at  that  moment  to  have  left  little  Bob  to  wander 
into  such  peril  as  this. 

Polly  was  among  those  who  had  ventured  far  out  upon 
the  ice-cakes  in  the  frantic  hope  of  rescue.  There  were 
men  with  hooks  and  ropes;  some  one  was  trying. to  push 
oft'  in  a  boat,  which  could  not  be  managed  in  such  a  whirl- 
pool. In  the  midst  of  the  wild  confusion  Polly  saw  a  fly- 
ing figure — the  Lorelei  mounted  upon  the  little  black  mare. 
Into  the  water  the  little  mare  plunged  gallantly ;  it  seem- 
ed to  Polly  that  it  could  not  be  real;  it  was  a  part  of  the 
dreadful  nightmare. 

"Do  not  fear,"  cried  Lory,  with  a  flash  of  her  white 
teeth.  "  Cetta  she  swim  like  fish." 

It  was  a  hushed  throng  that  waited  on  the  shore.  Polly 
shut  her  eyes,  but  when  she  opened  them  the  Lorelei  had 
scrambled  upon  the  ice-cake  and  held  Bob  aloft  in  her 
dripping  arms. 

A  great  cheer  went  up  from  the  shore,  but  there  was 
one  person  who  remembered  the  brave  little  mare.  She 
could  swim  like  a  fish  once,  but  that  was  when  she  was 
constantly  in  training.  This  water  was  cold,  and  whirl- 
pools threatened  to  engulf  her,  and  ice-blocks  to  crush 
her.  The  old  showman's  voice  rang  out  above  the  din; 
one  would  scarcely  have  believed  that  such  a  cracked  old 
voice  could  be  so  full  of  martial  command.  And  the 
little  black  mare  could  understand  his  lingo;  she  raised 
her  head  and  her  line  nostrils  quivered;  one  more  gal- 
lant struggle,  and  she  had  reached  the  shore. 

Meanwhile  the  surging  mass  that  had  beaten  down  the 
bridge  came  down  towards  the  ice-cake  where  the  Lore- 
lei stood  with  Bob  in.  her  arms;  it  might  submerge  the 
ice-cake,  it  might  drive  it  towards  the  shore. 

It  did  drive  it  towards  the  shore,  and  a  murmur  of 
thanksgiving  went  up  from  the  throng.  The  gap  of 
seething  water  between  it  and  the  firmly  lodged  mass 
upon  shore  was  still  wide.  Some  men  were  making 
plans  to  bridge  it,  when  suddenly,  with  a  flying  leap— 
rather  a  bird's  flight — the  Lorelei  with  the  child  in  her 
arms  came  across;  the  Lorelei's  flying-trapeze  acts  had 
not  been  for  nothing!  And  it  was  none  too  soon;  the 
shock  which  had  driven  it  towards  tlie  shore  had  cracked 
the  cake  of  ice,  and  even  as  the  girl  sprang  from  it  it 
went  to  pieces. 

Oh,  it  was  a  wild  cheer  that  went  up  from  the  crowd! 
Mothers — even  those  who  had  not  allowed  their  children 
to  go  near  "the  show  people" — kissed  and  caressed  the 
Lorelei ;  even  the  astonished  little  wet  black  mare  was 
hugged.  The  same  impetus  which  had  driven  the  ice- 
cake  shoreward  had  carried  Pill's  great  raft  high  and  dry 
upon  the  bank.  He  was  a  thankful  boy  when  he  took 
himself  and  his  bicycle  off,  but  it  occurred  to  him  that  he 
would  feel  a  little  more  heroic  if  he  had  received  a  few 
scratches.  It  also  occurred  to  him  that  nobody  was  mak- 
ing much  fuss  about  his  danger;  but,  in  truth,  there  had 
been  much  anxiety,  until  it  became  evident  that  his  bridge 
raft  was  strong  enough  to  stand  any  roughness  that  it 
was  likely  to  meet  with,  and  was  inevitably  drifting  in- 
shore. 


"That  time  the  black  mare  was  the  better  horse!" 
called  Ike  Haven,  the  superintendent's  older  son,  as  Pill 
went  by  the  mill. 

"  It  makes  consid'able  dif'runce  who's  ridiii'  the  hoss," 
said  one  of  the  mill  men,  dryly. 

Pill  saw  Polly  standing  in  front  of  the  little  mud  and 
plaster  house.  There  was  a  throng  of  people  about,  and 
the  Lorelei  was  looking  with  her  wide  friendly  smile  into 
the  sympathetic  faces. 

"  I  shall  have  Cetta  for  mine  own  again,  you  say?  for 
mine  own?"  she  was  saying,  joyously,  to  Polly.  "And  the 
peoples — they  will  know  what  to  maka  of  me?  We  shall 
be  like  other  peoples,  though  we  were  of  the  show?  Oh, 
it  is  too  good,  too  good!" 

The  old  showman  bowed  solemnly  all  around,  with 
his  hand  upon  his  heart.  "But  my  secret,  it  will  die 
vit  me!"  he  said. 

"You  didn't  swallow  'em,  that's  all  the  secret,"  thought 
Pill.  But  he  didn't  say  it.  He  never  has  said  it  again. 


STUDYING   THE    STABS. 

BY    WILLIAM    M.  DAVIS,  OF    HARVARD    UNIVERSITY. 

A  GOOD  many  years  ago,  when  I  was  a  boy,  my  curi- 
osity was  greatly  excited  by  the  round  dome  of  the 
Harvard  Observatory.  It  crowned  the  top  of  a  hill  that 
was  in  sight  from  an  artillery  recruiting  camp,  where  a 
good  number  of  my  Saturday  half  holidays  were  spent, 
watching  the  flying  batteries;  and  along  with  the  excite- 
ment of  the  booming  cannon  I  remember  my  wonder 
about  the  observatory  dome,  and  the  sights  of  the  sky 
that  the  astronomers  there  must  have  through  the  great 
telescope.  Astronomy  was  always  a  fascinating  study 
to  me,  and  many  a  summer  evening  did  I  spend  with  Bur- 
ritt's  chart  of  the  heavens  studying  the  constellations 
from  a  little  balcony  that  looked  to  the  south. 

A  curious  thing  came  of  those  early  studies.  It  hap- 
pened that  a  year  or  two  later,  in  the  spring  of  1866, 
while  walking  through  the  orchard  to  my  uncle's  house 
one  evening,  I  glanced  up  to  the  sky,  as  was  my  wont, 
and  there  in  the  Northern  Crown  a  new  star  stood 
alongside  of  the  familiar  semicircle!  I  hurried  home 
and  looked  up  the  star  charts.  Surely  enough  the  star 
was  wanting;  and,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  it  turned 
out  to  be  the  famous  Nova  of  1866,  seen  by  a  few  ob- 
servers in  Europe  on  the  night  I  had  noticed  it,  and  by 
one  other  person  in  this  country,  but  by  no  one  on  an 
earlier  date.  This  find  stood  me  in  good  stead;  for  dur- 
ing the  following  summer  I  was  fortunate  enough  to 
meet  Professor  Benjamin  Peirce,  a  famous  mathematician 
and  astronomer,  who  expressed  an  interest  in  my  obser- 
vation, and  when  I  went  to  Cambridge  as  a  student  the 
following  autumn.  Professor  Peirce  took  me  up  to  the 
observatory;  thus  were  the  wonders  of  the  great  dome 
laid  open. 

Many  a  cold  winter  night  did  I  spend  shivering  in 
that  dome,  making  records  under  the  shaded  light  in.  the 
alcove,  while  the  observer  sat  in  the  dark  by  the  telescope, 
and  occasionally  gave  me  a  sight  of  a  double  star,  or  an 
asteroid,  or  a  comet.  It  was  not  exactly  what  a  good 
many  boys  would  have  called  "  fun,"  but  on  the  whole 
I  am  satisfied  with  the  outcome  of  it.  It  gave  me  a  very 
different  idea  of  an  astronomer's  life  from  what  I  had  had 
before.  Reading  about  Herschel  and  how  he  found  Ura- 
nus, about  Leverrier  and  how  he  predicted  the  place  of 
Neptune,  I  had  almost  grown  to  believe  that  astronomers 
were  most  of  the  time  making  great  discoveries.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  there  is  vastly  more  work  done  between 
discoveries  than  there  is  on  the  discoveries  themselves; 
patient,  laborious,  routine  work,  by  which  the  results  of 
former  discoveries  are  followed  up,  and  the  way  to  new 
ones  slowly  opened. 


292 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


THE    OBSERVATORY    AT    HARVARD    UNIVERSITY. 

The  work  differs  greatly,  according  to  the  special  sub- 
ject of  study  that  an  observatory  takes  up;  but  there  is 
one  thing  that  every  observatory  must  have,  and  that  is 
correct  time.  Every  clear  night  an  observer  must  spend 
the  better  part  of  an  hour  in  making  time  observations. 
The  next  day,  or  it  may  be  at  once  after  the  observations, 
they  must  be  reduced,  so  as  to  determine  the  error  of  the 
clock  by  which  they  were  made.  Star  time,  not  sun 
time,  is  always  used.  This  work  is  done  with  a  special 
telescope,  generally  a  small  one,  set  on  a  level  east-and- 
west  axis,  so  that  it  turns  in  the  meridian  of  the  place. 
Slides  in  the  walls  and  roof  of  the  building  open  so  as  to 
disclose  a  slice  of  the  sky  from  north  to  south ;  then  the 
time  of  passage  of  certain  stars  across  the  meridian  line 
can  be  determined.  All  sorts  of  delicate  corrections  have 
to  be  taken  into  account  before  the  time  is  accurately 
known;  but  then  it  can  be  trusted  almost  to  a  tenth  of  a 
second.  Besides  using  the  time  in  the  observatory,  it  is 
often  sold  to  railroads  and  watchmakers.  It  is  first  con- 
verted into  standard  time — how  in  the  world  this  is  done 
you  can  hardly  imagine,  nor  can  I  stop  to  explain — and 
then  it  is  sent  out  by  ticks  on  a  telegraph  wire.  Certain- 
ly that  is  a  curious  kind  of  merchandise,  and  a  curious 
way  of  distributing  it;  but  it  yields  a  valuable  income  to 
many  observatories. 

As  I  have  said,  the  work  of  an  astronomer  varies 
greatly  with  the  size  of  the  observatory  where  he  is  en- 
gaged and  with  the  kind  of  investigation  that  is  going 
on.  In  large  observatories  the  work  is  subdivided,  so 
that  each  assistant  has  only  a  certain  small  part  of  it, 
and  this  may  become  extremely  monotonous,  the  observ- 
ers pursuing  work  of  the  same  kind  over  and  over  again 
night  after  night;  the  computers  measuring  off  records, 
setting  down  figures,  adding,  subtracting,  multiplying, 
and  dividing  according  to  some  «et  plan,  uniform  for 
days  and  weeks  together.  In  a  small  observatory  the 
work  is  generally  more  varied;  but  there  also  it  may  be 
of  hardly  more  than  a  single  pattern,  if  the  observer  takes 
up  some  special  study  and  follows  it  as  far  as  it  leads. 
Some  astronomers  make  it  their  life  work  to  search  for 
comets;  they  sweep  the  heavens,  as  it  were,  and  gather 
up  these  little  scraps.  Sometimes  an  observer  discovers 
a  comet,  only  to  learn  that  some  one  else  had  found  it  a 
day,  or  even  an  hour  or  two  before.  More  often  still, 
weeks  and  months  pass  by  without  discovering  anything; 
but  the  work  is  still  patiently  kept  up.  One  comet  a  year 
is  a  good  harvest  for  a  cultivator  of  this  kind  of  celestial 
crop.  Three  in  all  were  found  in  1893.  When  first  found 
a  comet  seldom  has  any  tail,  it  is  simply  a  hazy  little 
star,  looking  like  a  nebula  or  minute  luminous  cloud.  If 
the  charts  and  catalogues  do  not  show  any  nebula  at  the 


place  in  question,  it  is  a  good  find.  A  little  longer 
watching  will  show  that  it  is  moving  among  the  stars, 
thus  making  sure  that  it  is  a  comet  relatively  near  by 
our  sun,  not  a  remote  immovable  nebula.  Then  the 
news  of  it  is  telegraphed  over  the  world  by  international 
short-hand,  and  many  observers  follow  its  track  among 
the  stars,  so  as  to  determine  its  orbit  before  it  disappears. 
Most  of  the  comets  that  swing  around  the  sun  are  faint, 
hardly  visible  without  a  telescope.  It  is  only  rarely  that 
a  comet  of  great  size  and  brilliancy  visits  us;  but  as 
every  little  new-comer  may  turn  out  to  be  a  grand  affair, 
the  interest  and  excitement  of  the  search  continue. 

The  study  of  the  planets  used  to  be  a  study  of  their 
movements,  but  that  subject  is  now  so  well  worked  out 
that  the  modern  astronomer,  with  his  more  powerful 
telescopes,  directs  his  attention  chiefly  to  their  physical 
features.  Mars  and  Jupiter  are  of  particular  interest  in 
this  respect,  and  many  a  sharp  eye  watches  them  faith- 
fully during  their  oppositions — that  is,  while  they  are 
opposite  to  the  sun,  and  hence  nearest  to  the  earth.  It 
is  now  proposed  by  Mr.  Percival  Lowell,  of  Boston,  to 
equip  an  observatory  in  the  clear  air  of  the  high  plateaus 
of  Arizona,  and  make  the  features  of  Mars  the  chief  ob- 
ject of  study  next  year.  Much  is  yet  to  be  found  out 
about  Mars. 

The  fixed  stars,  bright  and  faint,  that  stand  and  shine 
steadily  in  one  place  generally  give  little  trouble  after 
they  are  once  catalogued ;  but  cataloguing  all  of  them  is 
a,  tremendous  undertaking.  In  recent  times  the  work  of 
cataloguing  a  vast  number  of  stars  was  distributed,  un- 
der the  leadership  of  the  German  Astronomical  Society, 
to  a  number  of  observatories.  Then,  for  month  after 
month,  the  observers  charged  with  this  onerous  duty  set 
to  work  to  take  the  time  at  which  every  star  in  the  belt 
of  sky  assigned  to  them  crossed  the  middle  line  of  a  me- 
ridian telescope,  and  this  work  is  still  in  progress. 

It  is  hardly  true,  however,  to  imply  as  I  did  above  that 
these  fixed  stars  take  care  of  themselves  when  they  are 
once  catalogued.  There  are  several  special  lines  of  study 
that  may  then  be  directed  towards  them.  In  the  first  place, 
the  stars  do  not  really  stand  absolutely  still  with  respect 
to  each  other.  It  is  probable  that  they  all  move  slightly; 
most  of  them  imperceptibly;  a  few  of  them  fast  enough 
to  be  noticed  after  some  years  of  waiting,  watching,  and 
measuring. 

Another  special  study  of  the  fixed  stars  leads  to  the 
disco'very  of  their  apparent  shift  of  position  in  conse- 
quence of  the  earth's  annual  movement  around  the  sun 
— that  is,  the  direction  of  some  stars  is  slightly  different 
when  seen  from  two  points  on  opposite  sides  of  the 
earth's  orbit.  180,000,000  miles  apart.  It  is  extraordinary 
that  so  great  a  change  of  position  of  the  observer  should 
not  make  a  more  perceptible  apparent  movement  of  the 


PORTION    OF    A    PHOTOGRAPH    OF    THE    MILKY    WAV    TAKEN    THROUGH    A 
TELESCOPIC. 


FEBRUARY  26,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


293 


stars;  their  distance  from  us  must  be  literally  immense 
if  they  seem  to  stand  still  while  \ve  move  so  far.  But 
the  few  of  them  that  have  been  found  to  move  a  little 
are  studied  with  the  greatest  care,  for  thereby  their  dis- 
tance is  measured,  and  the  measurement  of  the  distance 
to  a  fixed  star  is  a  wonderful  achievement.  It  was  long 
deemed  impossible,  and  was  not  accomplished  till  this 
century.  The  work  is  extremely  delicate;  it  cannot  be 
attempted  by  any  but  the  very  finest  instruments  and 
the  most  skilful  observers. 

Some  of  the  stars  have  a  peculiar  habit  of  varying;  in 
brightness;  these  being  the  so-called  variable  stars.  The 
study  of  these  "  variables  "  is  now  the  special  •work  of  a 
number  of  astronomers,  and  some  very  curious  results 
have  been  found.  Some  of  the  stars  "  blink."  as  it  were, 
for  a  few  hours  every  day  or  two:  hencr-  it  is  thought 
that  some  dark  body  re- 
volves around  them,  period- 
ically cutting  off  part  of  their 
light;  others  gradual  1  y 
brighten,  and  then  grow 
fainter,  requiring,  perhaps, 
several  months  for  their 
change;  others  again  are 
extremely  irregular  in  their 
ups  and  downs.  The  most 
remarkable  of  all  the  varia- 
bles are  those  that  sudden- 
ly appear,  shine  brightly  for 
a  time,  then  gradually  fade 
away,  like  the  Nova,  or  new 
star  of  1866,  already  men- 
tioned, or  the  Nova  in  Au- 
rig'a  of  1892.  It  is  seriously 
believed  that  the  temporary 
light  of  such  stars  results 
from  the  collision  of  two 
bodies,  "striking  fire"  on  a 
grand  scale.  One  is  discov- 
ered every  few  years,  and 
any  school  boy  or  girl  fa- 
miliar with  the  constella- 
tions may  take  a  chance 
in  such  discoveries.  One 
of  the  interesting  features  of 
this  class  of  work  is  that 
it  can  be  carried  on  by  am- 
ateur astronomers  with  a 
very  modest  outfit.  Patience, 
good  eyesight,  an  opera- 
glass,  and  a  star  chart  suf- 
fice to  reach  excellent  re- 
sults. 

When  the  eye  looks  at  a  star  it  is  tired  after  a  few  min- 
utes' strain  and  then  cannot  see  so  well,  but  when  a  photo- 
graphic plate  is  exposed  in  a  telescopic  focus  it  sees  better 
and  better  the  longer  it  looks.  By  means  of  the  usual 
clock-work  arrangement  the  telescope  follows  the  stars, 
and  thus  a  "sitting"  of  even  an  hour  or  more  can  be  made. 
Stars  that  are  far  below  perception  by  the  eye  through 
large  telescopes  are  thus  recorded  on  the  glass  negative 
either  as  little  black  spots  in  a  direct  vision  telescope,  or 
as  spectral  bands  in  a  prism  telescope.  Moreover,  while 
the  eye  can  study  only  one  thing  at  a  time,  the  photogra- 
phic plate  takes  in  all  the  stars  of  the  telescopic  field  and 
records  them  equally  well.  Another  great  advantage 
of  the  photographic  record  is  its  permanence.  It  can  be 
stored  away  for  future  reference;  it  can  be  sent  from 
place  to  place:  it  can  be  faithfully  copied  by  making  a 
photo-print.  No  wonder,  then,  that  some  observatories 
have  become  great  photographic  establishments,  where 
night  after  night  pictures  of  patches  of  the  sky  are  taken 
in  systematic  order,  until  the  whole  sky  is  surveyed  and 


recorded.  The  Harvard  Observatory  now  has  a  collec- 
tion of  many  thousand  stellar  photographs  011  glass  plates, 
all  conveniently  arranged  like  books  in  a  library,  so  that 
reference  can  be  immediately  made  to  any  desired  part 
of  the  sky.  These  plates  include  not  only  the  northern 
sky,  but  also  a  considerable  part  of  the  southern  hemi- 
sphere, taken  at  the  Harvard  Branch  Observatory  estab- 
lished in  Peru.  The  Bruce  telescope,  of  extraordinary 
power,  is  soon  to  be  sent  down  there. 

Many  persons  fancy  that  an  astronomer's  work  is  done 
mostly  at  night,  and  that,  like  the  printer  of  a  morning 
paper,  an  astronomer  must  sleep  all  day.  It  is  true  that 
much  late  night-work  lias  to  be  done,  but  the  work  in  day- 
time is  of  greater  amount.  Most  of  the  figuring  and  cal- 
culating is  done  in  the  day-time,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
observation  of  the  sun.  Some  astronomers  make  the  sun 

their  special  subject  of 
study ;  and  what  with  the 
analysis  of  his  light,  his  light 
and  dark  spots,  his  rotation, 
and  his  constitution,  they 
have  a  grand  field  for  their 
labors. 

There  is  one  peculiar  duty 
that  is    added,   to  the    other 
work   of  astronomers;    that 
is  the    reception    of  visitors 
who  wish  to  see  the  big  tele- 
scopes,   and     look     through 
them  at  the  stars.      It  does 
not    seem    to    be    generally 
understood    that  such  inter- 
ruptions  seriously  interfere 
with  the  work  of  an  observaj 
lory.     It  was  once  my 
duty    to   stand  by   the 
telescope    during     the 
visit  of  a  distinguished 
Senator   and    his   wife 
to  whom   courteous  at- 
tention   was     due.      A 
double  star  was  shown  ; 
one    of    those    binary 
solar  systems  in  which 
each  sun  slowly  moves 
around  the  other  in  the 
.  course  of  a  few  centu- 
ries;  and  on  mention- 
ing   the   fact   of    their 
motion,  the  reply  was, 
"Oh  yes,  I   see    them 
turning."     The  visitor 
at    the    telescope    had 

mistaken  the  unsteadiness  or  "dancing"  of  the  stars 
caused  by  the  irregular  passage  of  their,  light  through 
our  atmosphere  for  their  exceedingly  slow  mutual  revo- 
lution. Do  you  suppose  it  was  the  Senator  or  his  wife 
who  asked  the  question  ; 

Then  there  are  occasionally  what  may  be  called  astro- 
nomical picnics,  quite  out  of  the  usual  order  of  things. 
An  eclipse  of  the  sun  or  a  transit  of  Venus  may  be  best 
seen  in  some  remote  quarter  of  the  globe,  and  this  excites 
the  civilized  nations  of  the  world  V,  a  generous  competi- 
tion. Expeditions  are  sent  out,  not  infrequently  in  naval 
vessels  of  the  various  countries,  and  if  all  goes  well  the 
astronomers  do  not  have  half  a  bad  time  of  it.  Some- 
times they  go  on  exploring  expeditions,  so  as  to  determine 
the  position  of  new-found  lands;  but  this  sort  of  work  is 
now  rather  out  of  date,  so  \vell  is  the  whole  world  known. 
Boundary  surveys  between  adjoining  nations  still  call  for 
travelling  astronomers,  and  an  old  companion  and  friend 
of  mine  is  now  absent  on  that  sort  of  a  task  between  Mex- 
ico and  Guatemala. 


COLD  WORK  ON  WINTER  NIGHTS. 


294 


HARPER'S    YOUNG    PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


"THE     'SCUTNEY     MAIL." 

THE    STORY    OF    A   YOUNG    PEOPLE'S  NEWSPAPER 
VENTURE. 

BY    SOPHIE    SWETT. 


Part  V. 

fl^OM'S  whole  heart  was  in  the  Mail— all  the  more  since 
JL  what  he  regarded  as  a  rival  had  appeared  in  the  field 
in  the  form  of  the  new  paper,  which  was  to  be  called  The 
'Scntney  Telegraph.  Macurdy  found  this  out  as  soon  as 
he  talked  with  him.  To  desert  Tom  and  go  over  to  the 
enemy,  seemed,  therefore,  to  Macurdy  a  hase  thing,  so 
he  finally  decided  after  a  long  debate  with  himself. 

Meanwhile  Tom  hung  around  Croome's  block ;  he  often 
went  into  the  editorial  office,  and  watched  the  carpenters 
at  work  there.  One  day  the  editor,  the  lively  man  of 
Macurdy's  acquaintance,  caine  in  and  spoke  to  him  in  a 
flatteringly  friendly  fashion,  calling  him  "a  brother 
craftsman,"  and  introduced  him  to  "Mr.  McPherson," 
another  member  of  the  Telegraph  company. 

These  men  thought  something  of  the  Mail,  and  they 
knew,  thought  Tom,  proudly.  The  little  quizzical  air  of 
the  editor,  which  had  offended  Macurdy,  quite  escaped 
Tom. 

''You  don't  happen  to  know  of  a  boy  that  we  could 
get,  do  you?''  asked  the  editor,  after  some  conversation,  in 
which  lie  had  drawn  Tom  out  concerning  the  affairs  of 
the  Mail.  "A  'Scutney  boy  with  something  in  him,  to 
grow  up  with  the  paper  ?" 

And  then  he  explained  the  drudgery  to  be  done,  and 
also  the  chances.  And  Tom's  heart  thrilled  almost  as 
Macurdy's  had  done. 

"I  wish  you'd  take  me!"  he  said.  "I'm  awful  tired 
of  going  to  school.  I've  been  wanting  to  go  into  busi- 
ness— into  real  business  for  a  long  time." 

"Would  your  father  be  willing?  You  father  is  Dr. 
Pickering,  isn't  he?"  asked  the  editor. 

"Yes,  I'm  sure  he  would  let  me;  for  this  spring  and 
summer,  anyway." 

"We'll  try  you  if  he's  willing,"  said  the  editor;  and 
Tom  went  off  feeling  as  if  he  walked  on  air. 

It  was  not  until  he  came  within  sight  of  the  publishing- 
house  of  the  Mail  that  he  felt  a  twinge  of  regret.  Every 
one  said  that  the  Mail  was  a  great  success— for  boys— but 
thev  were  apt  to  give  all  the  credit  of  the  success  to  Ma- 
curdy, and  to  call  it  Macurdy's  paper.  And  Luella  said 
it  was  "  mean  "  for  him  to  tell  everybody  that  it  was  his 
money,  anyway.  And  he  wanted  to  have  something  to 
do  with  a  new  enterprise  that  was  creating  such  a  sensa- 
tion. But  what  would  Macurdy  say  about  giving  up  the 
Mail  *  He  would  be  sorry  to  have  Macurdy  disappointed ; 
he  would  like  to  do  the  fair  thing  by  Macurdy. 

All  unconscious  that  he  was  losing  not  only  his  chance 
in  life  but  the  little  paper  upon  which  he  had  worked  so 
hard  as  well,  Macurdy  went  the  next  day  with  his  plough- 
share, only  to  find  when  he  reached  the  Four  Corners 
that  Nate  Brimblecom,  the  blacksmith,  had  a  felon  on 
his  finger,  and  was  not  able  to  sharpen  it.  In  view  of 
such  an  emergency,  Mr.  Bigsby  had  told  him  to  go  on 
to  Hebron;  his  (Mr.  Bigsby's)  brother  was  a  blacksmith 
there,  and  if  Macurdy  could  not  get  it  done  in  time  to 
bring  it  home  to-night — itfceing  already  late  in  the  after- 
noon— he  was  to  remain  at  Mr.  Bigsby's  brother's  all 
night,  and  return  early  in  the  morning.  The  plough  must 
be  ready  for  use  just  as  soon  as  possible. 

When  Macurdy  arrived,  the  blacksmith  was  said  to  be 
at  the  railroad  station  near  his  shop,  and  Macurdy  went 
over  there  to  look  for  him. 

A  stranger — a  young-  man  very  stylishly  dressed,  but 
with  a  weak  face  and  a  look  which  even  to  Macurdy's  in- 
experienced eyes  suggested  dissipation — standing  near  the 


stage  inquired  of  Macurdy  if  that  were  the  conveyance 
to  'Scutney. 

"  Do  you  know  anybody  over  there?"  he  continued  im- 
mediately, upon  receiving  Macurdy's  affirmative  answer. 
"  I  b'long  over  there,"  said  Macurdy,  readily. 
"You  don't  happen  to  know  a  boy  named  Macurdy 
Green,  do  you?"  asked  the  young  man. 

"Well,  I'm  some  acquainted  with  him."  said  Macurdy, 
looking  down  and  digging  his  heel  into  the  ground  in 
an  embarrassed  way.  Then  he  looked  up  and  grinned. 
"Oil,  you're  Macurdy  Green,  are  you?"  said  the  stran- 
ger. And  he  looked  Macurdy  over  with  a  somewhat 
puzzled  air. 

"You  have  something  to  do  with  a  little  paper  that 
the  boys  publish  over  there,  and  you're  great  friends  with 
a  boy  at  the  poor-house  who  has  been  writing  little 
sketches  for  the  paper." 

Macurdy  nodded  assent,  feeling  a  vague  wonder  that 
his  affairs  should  be  spread  abroad  in  the  land;  for  it 
was  evident  that  the  stranger  had  just  arrived  in  Hebron 
by  train. 

"  I  want  to  see  the  boy — Jim.  You  see,  there's  a  lady 
out  in  Texas,  where  I  came  from,  who  lost  a  boy  who 
was  called  Jimmie,  and  he  was  fond  of  pets,  and  this  boy 
reminds  her  of  him.  She  wanted  me  to  come  here  and 
see  him.  Of  course  it  can't  be  her  son,  because  we  heard 
positively  that  he  was  dead.  But  her  health  is  broken — 
her  husband  died  suddenly  soon  after  the  son— and  we 
have  to  humor  her  queer  notions.  I'm  her  nephew. 
Now,  I  want  to  see  the  boy  Jim  without  his  seeing  me. 
Of  course  I  don't  want  to  show  an  interest  in  him,  to 
arouse  any  false  hopes  in  his  mind.  My  aunt's  friends 
don't  think  it  would  be  well  for  her  to  adopt  a  boy  in  the 
present  state  of  her  health,  even  if  he  did  remind  her 
very  much  of  her  son  who  died.  But  I  promised  t]iat  I 
would  see  what  he  was  like,  and  ease  her  mind." 

The  young  man  spoke  in  an  easy,  off-hand  way,  but  he 
cast  glances  of  keen  curiosity  at  Macurdy,  and  ended  with 
an. embarrassed  little  laugh. 

"Jim  hasn't  any  friends  that  I  know  of,"  said  Macur- 
dy, sadly.  "  I  wish  I  could  find  out  where  he  came  from. 
He's  a  little  weak  in  his  mind." 

"Doesn't  remember  anything  of  his  life  before  he  came 
here?"  The  young  man  asked  the  question  carelessly,  but 
there  was  an  eagerness  in  his  tone  which  did  not  escape 
Macurdy.  Farmer  Bigsby  had  been  heard  to  say  that 
Macurdy  hadn't  big  ears  and  a  sharp  nose  for  nothing. 

"No;  he  doesn't  remember  even  his  name.  They 
called  him  Jim  in  the  circus,  so  that  probably  is  the 
name  he  gave  them,"  answered  Macurdy.  But  he  had 
begun  to  be  careful  about  what  he  said. 

"And — and  Sarah  Lond,  the  name  he  gave  his  weasel, 
was  a  name  that  happened  to  strike  his  fancy?" 

"No,  it  was  the  name  of  some  one  he  used  to  know; 
an  old  woman,  he  thinks,  who  was  kind  to  him;  he  gets 
bewildered  when  he  tries  to  remember,"  said  Macurdy. 

It  was  Macurdy's  turn  to  look  at  his  questioner  now. 
The  young  man's  face  had  flushed,  and  his  brows  wrin-  - 
kled  anxiously. 

.  "  I  should  like  to  have  a  little  talk  with  you,"  he  said 
at  length.  "  Perhaps  it  may  not  be  necessary  for  me  to 
go  to  'Scutney  at  all.  I'm  sure  that  it  would  not  be  wise 
for  my  aunt  to  adopt  the  boy,  as  he  is  weak-minded." 

Macurdy's  eyes  had  wandered  towards  the  travelling- 
bag  which  the  young  man  carried.  A  card  hung  from 
it  with  a  name  engraved  upon  it.  The  stranger  tore  it 
off  when  he  saw  Macurdy's  gaze. 

"That's  a  friend's  card;  we  changed  'grips'  by  mis- 
take," he  said,  with  a  careless  air.  "  My  name  is  Brown- 
low —  George  K.  Brownlow.  As  I  was  going  to  say, 
you're  a  bright,  smart  fellow,  and  a  friend  to  the  boy. 
I'm  willing  to  make  it  for  your  interest — very  much  for 
your  interest  —  to  help  me  keep  my  aunt  from  being 


FEBRUARY  26,  1895 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


295 


troubled  any  further  about  him.  I  want  to  send  him 
away  from  here— farther  East,  probably,  and  I  should 
like  to  have  you  go  witli  him  to  look  after  him.  You 
and  he  would  both  be  well  provided  for — boarded  in  some 
family,  and  you  could  both  go  to  the  best  schools,  and 
when  you  grow  up,  I'll  see  that  you  have  a  good  start  in 
life.  I'll  do  more;  I'll  give  you  five  thousand  dollars 
when  you  are  twenty-one.  I'll  put  it  into  a  bank  for 
you  now,  so  that  you  can  be  sure  of  it  if — if  you'll  take 
good  care  of  Jim,  and — and  keep  my  aunt  from  finding 
him  if  this  nervous  condition  of  hers  leads  her  to  try." 

The  young  man  looked  steadfastly  at  Macurdy,  and  the 
boy's  soul,  with  its  country  simplicity  and  its  rugged  hon- 
esty, was  in  a  tumult.  He  had  thought  his  experiences 
as  an  editor  of  the  Mail  very  exciting,  and  had  felt  very 
wise  and  sophisticated;  but  this  was  quite  a  new  phase 
of  worldly  experience. 

Then  a  sense  of  responsibility  thrilled  him.  It  was 
for  Jim — for  Jim  that  he  must  sharpen  his  wits  and  find 
out  what  this  man  really  meant! 

"I  couldn't  go  for  a  week  or  more,"  he  said,  slowly. 
"I  should  have  to  give  Mr.  Bigsby  time  to  get  another 
boy  to  work  for  him." 

"  I  shouldn't  want  you  to  go  until — well,  say  ten  days 
from  now — a  week  from  next  Thursday.  I've  got  to  go 
farther  East  on  business,  and  to  find  a  place  for  you. 
And  I  shall  expect  you  to  make  things  right  with  the 
poor-house  people.  Of  course  they'll  be  glad  enough  to 
get  rid  of  him,  but  they'll  feel  bound  to  ask  questions. 
You're  going  to  get  your  chance  in  the  world — the  best 
chance  a  boy  ever  had — by  knowing  how  to  answer  ques- 
tions without  telling  anything." 

Macurdy's  cheeks  burned  with  the  guilty  but  half- 
amused  consciousness  that  he  was  just  now  taking  his 
first  lesson  in  that  art! 

"  I  shall  expect  you  to  meet  me  here  with  Jim  just  be- 
fore the  morning  train  leaves,  a  week  from  Thursday. 
Be  ready  to  go,  and  don't  come  too  early — these  country 
people  are  full  of  curiosity.  And,  remember,  if  you  talk 
about  this  to  anybody,  or  let  Jim  talk,  I  sha'n't  want' 
you, "and  he  walked  back  to  the  station  alone. 

The  blacksmith  could  not  sharpen  that  ploughshare 
until  morning,  and  he  had  been  bidden  to  stay  all  night. 
But  the  blacksmith  and  his  family  went  to  bed  yearly, 
and  it  was  only  a  little  past  nine  o'clock  when  Macurdy 
softly  led  old  Tim  out  of  the  barn  and  mounted  his  bare' 
back.  Old  Tim  was  bony,  and  his  gait  was  eccentric,  but 
Macurdy  hung  on;  he  would  have  preferred  to  walk,  but 
he  felt  that  there  was  not  time. 

A  tinkle  of  gravel  against  his  window  and  a  faint  clear 
whistle  brought  Jim  down  from  his  room  to  the  door  of 
the  poor-house. 

"Jim,  try  to  remember— think  hard !"  said  Macurdy, 
eagerly,  with  one  hand  on  Jim's  shoulder  and  the  other 
holding  the  halter  of  the  astonished  and  reluctant  old 
Tim.  "Did  you  ever  hear  the  name  of  Emmerton — J. 
Randall  Emmerton?" 

Jim  drew  a  long  hard  breath. 

"  Emmerton— oh,  that's  it,  'Curdy! — that's  my  name! 
I've  tried  so  long  to  remember  it.  I've  hoped  that  I  might 
dream  it.  Jimmie — James  Emmerton,  that's  who  I  am. 
Randall  Emmerton,  that's  who  my  father  is." 

"  And  you  had  a  cousin— tall,  with  lightish  hair  but 
dark  eyes,  and  a  queer  smile." 

"Randy,  Randy!  He  was  wild,  and  they  sent  him 
away.  'Curdy,  I  think  I  have  a  mother  like  other  boys. 
Do  you  think  so,  'Curdy?" 

"  I  can't  tell,  Jim.  I  hope  so.  I've  got  to  go;  I'm 
in  an  awful  hurry!"  Macurdy  disengaged  Jim's  clinging 
arm  and  jumped  upon  his  ancient  steed. 

"  I've  got  you,  anyhow,  'Curdy,"  called  Jim's  soft,  pa- 
thetic voice. 

"  You've  got  me,  anyhow,  Jim,"  came  back  Macurdy's 


voice  in  a  stage-whisper,  but  with  emphasis.  And  Jim 
went  to  bed  bewildered,  but  in  happy  trust,  while  Ma- 
curdy urged  old  Tim  just  as  fast  as  he  had  the  heart  to 
do  back  over  the  road  to  Hebron.  He  roused  the  sleepy 
telegraph  operator  in  the  Hebron  station  before  the  clock 
struck  ten.  He  wrote  out  with  care  the  message  that  lie 
wished  to  send: 

"  Mrs.    Randall    Emmerton, ,    Texas.      Your  son 

James  is  in  'Scutney,  Massachusetts.      Come  quick." 

Nine  words;  but  he  had  another  quarter,  and  she  might 
not  come  unless  things  were  quite  plain.  Besides,  it  was 
worth  the  other  quarter — the  last  proceeds  of  The  ^Scnlin-i/ 
Mail — to  add  "  Your  nephew,  J.  Randall  Emmerton,  has 
acted  villionous."  Macurdy  wasn't  sure  about  the  spell- 
ing of  that  last  word  ;  the  girl  operator  laughed. 

"  Sign  it  Editor  ' Scutney  Mail,'"  said  Macurdy,  with 
dignity. 

"Coming.  Take  care  of  my  boy,"  was  the  telegram 
that  Macurdy  received,  and  at  the  end,  "  God  bless  you!" 

It  happened  that  the  day  when  Jim's  relatives  came — 
his  mother  and  her  daughter's  husband  —  was  the  very 
day  and  the  very  morning  when  the  "  villionous  "  nephew 
had  arranged  to  meet  Macurdy  at  the  same  station.  And 
so  Macurdy  met  him,  with  Jim  and  Jim's  mother  beside 
him.  He  turned  pale,  and  slipped  away  out  of  sight  as 
if'the  earth  had  swallowed  him  up. 

"Randall  never  was  a  good  boy."  Jim's  mother  said, 
"  but  we  never  thought  he  could  be  so  bad  as  he  has  shown 
himself.  He  was  to  have  Jimmie's  share  of  the  property 
if  Jimmie  was  never  found.  We  never  thought  he  would 
be,  because  we  heard  from  the  circus  company  that  he  ran 
away  with  that  he  was  dead.  I  might  never  have  found 
my  boy  if  it  had  not  been  for  you." 

She  hugged  and  kissed  Macurdy  right  there  in  the  rail- 
road station,  and  Macurdy  felt — well,  "pretty  cheap,"  as 
he  afterwards  confided  to  Toiji ;  but  nevertheless  it  was 
the  proudest  day  of  his  life,  prouder  even  than  when  the 
first  issue  of  the  Mail  was  cried  about  the  'Scutney  streets. 

They  had  lived  in  New  York  when  Jimmie  ran  away 
with  the  circus — Jimmie,  who  had  always  been  delicate 
and  not  quite  like  other  boys,  his  mother  further  explain- 
ed. After  Jim's  father's  death  Jim's  mother  had  gone  to 
live  with  her  daughter  in  Texas,  and  there  the  little 
'Scutney  paper  had  reached  her  through  her  neighbor, 
Tom  Pickering's  Uncle  Rafe. 

"Well,  we  never  thought  the  paper  would  do  such  a 
great  thing  as  that,  did  we?"  said  Tom,  after  Macurdy  had 
told  him  all  about  it.  Macurdy  had  run  over  to  the  Mail 
office  as  soon  as  his  "  chores  "  were  done  that  noon.  The 
Mail  had  been  all  ready  the  day  before,  but  he  must  help 
Tom  and  Bing  to  deliver  it. 

He  had  scarcely  seen  Tom  for  a  week,  and  only  in  the 
brief  spaces  of  time  that  he  had  been  able  to  snatch  for 
work  on  the  Mail,  when  they  were  both  too  busy  to  talk. 

He  now  gloomily  barred  the  way  to  the  Mail  office 
when  Macurdy  would  have  entered.  "You'd  better  not 
go  in,"  he  said,  seating  himself  on  the  upper  step,  and 
beginning  to  whittle  in  a  faint-hearted  and  embarrassed 
way.  "I  thought  you'd  find  out.  Haven't  you  been 
into  the  granary  yet?" 

"  Why,  no.  I  came  over  here  the  very  first  thing  after 
I  came  from  Hebron,  and  Jim  is  there  at  the  hotel  with 
his  people.  We  left  a  lot  of  food  for  the  animals  in  the 
granary  last  night.  Has  anything  happened  to  them?" 
Macurdy's  voice  was  husky  with  fear. 

"Nothing  has  happened  to  them  except  that  Sarah 
Lond  has  got  away,  I  s'pose,  and  a  weasel  ought  to  get 
away.  What  sense  is  there  in  trying  to  tame  a  weasel?" 
Tom's  voice  had  an  aggrieved  tone,  and  he  whittled  M> 
vigorously  that  the  chips  flew  in  every  direction, 
they've  ate  up  the  Mail." 

"Ate  up  the  Mail  ?"  echoed  Macurdy,  in  bewildered 
dismay. 


296 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME    XVI. 


"Those  gh'ls,  Luella  and  Polly  Rawson.  were  coming 
home  from  an  apron  party  at  Sar'  Abby  Blodgett's  about 
half  past  nine  o'clock  last  night.  When  they  got  near 
the  granary  they  heard  an  awful  noise— something  kind 
of  whisking  'round,  and  the  squirrels  scolding  as  loud 
as  they  could.  I  should  like  to  know  where  you  were 
that  you  didn't  hear  all  that  racket." 

"I  slept  with  Jim  at  the  poor-house;  Mrs.  Bigsby  had 
so  much  company  that  she  hud  to  have  my  room,"  ex- 
plained Macurdy.  "Sarah  Loud  didn't  hurt  the  mice, 
did  he?"  he  inquired,  anxiously. 

"They  were  afraid  he  would— those  girls  were — but 
when  Luella  had  got  in  at  the  window  she  was  scared 
'most  to  death.  Sarah'Lond  had  got  loose,  and  she  just 
grabbed  the  cage  of  white  mice  and  hopped  out  of  the 
window  with  it.  She  thinks  Sarah  Lond  scooted  out 
after  her  before  she  shut  the  window,  but  she  isn't  sure. 
Well,  those  girls  just  put  the  cage  of  mice  in  here,  and  it 
wouldn't  have  done  any  harm  if  the  door  of  the  cage 
hadn't  come  open.  All  those  mice  were  scampering  and 
gnawing  'round  in  here  all  night!''  Tom  arose  and 
threw  open  the  dour  in  impressive  silence. 

Copies  of  the  Mail,  which  had  been  arranged  in  a  neat 
pile  ready  for  delivery,  were  gnawed  and  torn  and  scat- 
tered about  the  floor;  not  one  copy  was  left  whole  and 
clean.  The  piles  of  paper  ready  for  printing  were  all 
gnawed  at  the  edges,  and  a  bottle  of  ink  had  been  over- 
turned upon  them,  and  was  still  dripping  and  forming 
little  pools  upon  the  floor;  and  the  type  was  scattered  in 
all  directions. 

"Looks  as  if 'twas  the  end  of  The  'Scutney  Mail,  don't 
it?"  said  Macurdy,  and  although  he  grinned  broadly,  there 
was  a  quiver  in  his  voice.  "I've  got  something  to  tell 
you,  Tom,"  Macurdy  went  on,  wilh  an  effort.  "I  know 


you'll  feel  bad,  and  I  do,  myself,  though  it  seems  as  if  I'd 
got  a  real  chance  at  last.  Jim's  mother  wants  me  to  go 
home  with  them,  and  she'll  send  me  to  school  with  Jim; 
and  she'll  let  me  pay  my  way,  so  I  sha'n't  be  beholden 
to  anybody.  I  can,  you  know,  Tom;  just  give  me  a 
chance!" 

"  I  guess  you  can,"  responded  Tom,  heartily.  "You're 
an  awful  smart  fellow,  'Curdy,  and  a  square  one,  too!  I 
b'lieve  you're  the  squares!  fellow  I  ever  knew.  I  hate 
to  have  you  go,  but — but  I  guess  it's  all  come  'round  right. 
I — I've  got  a  chance  myself,  "Curdy!"  Tom  straddled 
the  high  stool,  and  kicked  its  legs  in  an  embarrassed  way. 
"  More'n  a  week  ago  those  Telegraph  people  offered  me  a 
chance  in  their  office.  I  didn't  know  until  they  told  me 
to-day  that  they'd  offered  it  to  you  first.  It  was  square 
of  you  to  stick  to  the  Mail,  'Curdy,  awful  square !  I 
thought  I  would  go  on  to  the  Telegraph,  and  I  coaxed 
father  till  he  said  I  might,  and  then  I  thought  it  wasn't 
square,  and  I  got  'em  to  wait.  I  thought  I'd  talk  with 
you  about  it,  and  then  I  knew  you  thought  such  a  lot  of 
the  Mail  I  couldn't  bear  to.  But  to-day,  when  it  was  all 
ate  up,  and  there  isn't  any  money  to  buy  any  more  paper, 
why,  I  said  I  would.  You  see,  everybody  thought  it  was 
boys'  play,  and  it  takes  so  long  for  a  paper  to  grow  up 
with  you — 

"I'm  glad  you  did  it,  Tom!  You've  got  the  makings 
of  an  editor  !"  said  Macurdy,  feeling  that  there  could 
scarcely  be  higher  praise.  "And  now  I  don't  feel  so 
bad  about  going  away." 

"Maybe  we'll  be  editors  together  yet" — Tom  swal- 
lowed a  big  lump  in  his  throat,  and  Macurdy  openly 
drew  his  sleeve  across  his  eyes — "on  a  bigger  paper  than 
' Scutney  Mail." 


JIM    AND    HIS    MOTHER  UNITED. 


IN  THE  ICE  OF  NEW  YORK  HARBOR. 

"  /~~\  UESSthis  '11  be  our  last  trip,"  said  the  Pilot  as 

VJT  he  gazed  out  of  the  frosted  panes  of  the  wheel- 
house  windows,  and  saw  the  snowflakes  whirling 
madly  about  on  the  ice-floes  in  the  river  ahead  of 
him. 

"Looks  like  it,"  answered  the  Captain.  "  We've 
lost  seven  paddles  since  morning,  and  if  the  ice  and 
snow  come  down  the  river  any  faster  we  stand  a, 
good  chance  of  being  stove  in." 

The  Paunpeck  was  shoving  out  of  her  slip,  slowly 
and  carefully,  and  as  the  wild  rush  of  the  tide  caught 
her  broadside  she  keeled   over  until  one  of  her  paddle- 
wheels  was  lifted  almost  entirely  out  of  the  water.      The 
Captain  and  the  Pilot  bent  all  their  strength  to  the  wheel, 
and  put  the  boat's  nose  three-quarters  up  stream.      Great 
heads  of  perspiration  stood  out  on  their  brows. 

"If  this  weather  don't  let  up,"  murmured  the  Pilot, 
prophetically,  "  somethin's  goin'  to  give." 

Bump!  bump!  bump!  came  the  huge  blocks  of  ice 
against  the  side  of  the  boat,  and  the  wind  went  howling 
down  the  stream  like  a  cyclone,  and  rattled  fiercely  at 
the  wheel-house  windows. 

"  Port  a  little,"  muttered  the  Captain,  under  his  breath. 

"Port  it  is,  sir,'1  answered  the  Pilot,  and  the  two  men 
tugged  together  at  the  wheel-spokes. 

"  Looks  like  a  liner  comiu'  up  through  the  snow,"  con- 
tinued the  Captain.  "Can't  see  her  very  well,  but  if 
these  floes  keep  a-poundin'  us  we'd  better  steer  well  out  of 
her  way." 

"  Right  ye  are,  sir,"  assented  the  Pilot. 

The  ferry-boat  was  making  slow  progress.  The  ice  in 
the  river  was  so  thick  that  it  impeded  and  clogged  and 
broke  the  paddles,  and  disturbed  the  working  of  the  rud- 
der, and  frequently  a  big  floe  came  along  with  irresist- 
ible force,  and  swept  the  heavy  Paunpeck  entirely  out  of 
her  course.  It  was  the  same  with  every  other  craft  that 
attempted  to  navigate  the  river  in  this  fearful  storm. 
Half  a  mile  down-stream,  as  the  Captain  had  said,  could 
be  seen  a  huge  ocean  steamer,  ice-coated,  belching  steam 
and  smoke  from  her  crusted  funnels,  fighting  her  way 
slowly  up  to  her  pier  in  the  very  teeth  of  the  wind  and 
tide.  At  first  the  Captain  of  the  Paunpeck  had  intended 
to  pass  across  her  bow,  for  in  ordinary  and  even  in  bad 
weather  there  would  have  been  ample  space  for  such  a 
manoeuvre,  but  on  this  day  of  storm  and  blizzard  he  soon 
realized  that  his  boat  was  making  such  poor  headway 
that  it  would  be  dangerous  even  to  attempt  this.  Both 
boats  were  drawing  closer  and  closer  together.  The  pas- 
sengers on  the  ferry-boat,  braving  the  biting  cold  and  the 
howling  wind,  had  gathered  in  the  bow  to  see  how  near 
they  must  come  to  the  approaching  vessel. 

"  Guess  we  can't  make  it,"  said  the  Pilot. 

"Guess  we  can't,"  repeated  the  Captain;  "and  here 
comes  a  big  floe  right  down  on  us.  We  must  dodge  that. 
Hard  a  starboard,  and  pass  astern  !" 

Both  men  bent  to  the  big  mahogany  wheel  with  all 
their  might.  The  steering-gear  strained  and  creaked  and 
turned  slowly,  and  then,  suddenly,  there  was  a  loud  snap, 
like  the  report  of  a  rifle,  and  both  Captain  and  Pilot  were 


IP   THIS    WEATHER    DON'T    LET    UP,  SOMETHIN'S    GOIN'    TO    GIVE." 

thrown  to  the  floor  as  the  wheel  went  spinning  around 
like  mad.     The  Pilot  was  the  first  to  get  to  his  feet  again. 

"Busted!"  he  shouted,  and  at  the  same  time  he  pulled 
the  signal  bell,  once  to  stop,  and  then  twice  to  reverse. 

"  Busted  "  expressed  very  forcibly  what  had  happened. 
The  steering-gear  had  given  way  under  the  fearful  strain 
that  it  had  been  subjected  to.  The  ferry-boat  was  there- 
fore no  longer  under  control,  and  was  bearing  down 
rapidly  on  the  ocean  liner,  directly  in  the  path  of  a  mon- 
slrous  island  of  ice  which  was  rushing  down-stream  with 
the  force  and  velocity  of  an  avalanche.  The  Captain 
seized  the  whistle-cord  and  blew  loud  and  long,  in  the 
hope  that  the  sailors  on  the  steamship  would  understand 
his  predicament.  But  it  was  of  no  use.  Part  of  the  big 
ice-floe  had  already  crashed  into  the  ferry-boat  that  was 
now  only  a  few  rods  distant  from  the  liner,  and  was  for- 
cing it  down-stream  in  spite  of  the  heavy  heaving  and 
wheezing  of  the  powerful  engines  below.  Officers  and 
sailors  were  running  up  and  down  the  decks  of  the  steamer 
waving  their  arms  and  shouting,  and  the  fog-horn  began 
tooting  hoarsely.  There  was  no  apparent  escape  from 
collision.  The  ferry-boat  was  charging  toward  the  big 
liner,  and  in  less  than  two  minutes  must  strike  her  amid- 
ships. Such  a  blow  from  so  heavy  a  craft  as  the  1'nini- 
peck  could  not  fail  to  crush  a  hole  into  the  iron  sides  of 
the  steamer,  and  then  a  terrible  catastrophe  must  result. 
The  pilot  rushed  out  of  the  wheel-house  and  clambered 
down  into  the  engine-room  to  tell  the  engineer  what  hor- 
ror threatened.  The  Captain  shouted  orders  to  the  deck- 
hands, and  the  greatest  excitement  prevailed  011  both 
boats.  They  were  now  scarcely  twenty-five  yards  apart. 

But  suddenly  the  big  ice  island  that  the  Captain  of  the 
Paunpeck  had  tried  to  avoid  plunged  in  between  the  two 
ships,  banked  itself  up  in  front  of  the  ferry-boat,  lifting 
it  almost  out  of  the  water,  whirled  it  half-way  round  in 
a  semicircle,  groaned  and  crunched  and  scraped  along 
the  side  of  the  steamer,  swished  the  Paunpeck  with  giant 
strength  several  rods  down-stream,  and  whirled  it  under 
the  stern  of  the  incoming  vessel  scarcely  fifty  feet  away. 

A  shout  went  up  from  the  decks  of  both  boats  simul- 
taneously, and  the  Captain  of  the  Paunpeck  leaned 
on  the  dismantled  steering-wheel  and  took  a  long  breath. 

"  Pretty  close,  that,"  he  muttered. 

"Pretty  close,  sir,"  repeated  the  Pilot,  and  then  the 
boat  began  to  work  backward  with  the  other  rudder. 

And  yet  this  was  only  one  of  the  many  terrible  experi- 
ences that  were  undergone  by  the  men  who  navigated 
New  York  Harbor  during  the  great  storm  of 


AFLOAT   WITH  THE   FLAG/ 


BY    W.  J.  HENDERSON. 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 
AT   SEA    ONCE   MORE. 


THE  boat  came  speeding  up  to  the  starboard  side  of  the 
Alma.  There  was  no  longer  any  doubt  that  the  ex- 
cited young  man  was  Robert  Lock  wood,  and  in  a  few 
seconds  lie  was  aboard  the  bark  and  in  his  father's  arms. 
It  was  a  deeply  happy  meeting  for  all  concerned,  and 
none  of  them  were  ashamed  to  be  seen  wiping  the  tears 
from  their  eyes. 

"You  are  free  and  safe,  my  boy,"  said  Captain  Lock- 
wood.  "  How  did  it  all  happen?" 

"  It's  simple  enough,  father,"  replied  Robert.  "  When 
the  Tamandare's  people  received  Admiral  da  Gama's  or- 
der to  abandon  ship  and  take  refuge  on  the  Portuguese 
man-of-war  there  was  a  scene  of  wild  confusion.  There 
never  was  good  discipline  among  the  insurgents,  and  then 
there  was  none  at  all.  I  felt  sure  that  they  wouldn't  stop 
to  muster  the  crew,  so  I  just  dropped  down  into  the  fore- 
peak  and  kept  quiet  till  they  had  all  gone.  After  that  I  tried 
in  a  dozen  ways  to  attract  your  attention,  but  of  course 
you  supposed  that  the  ship's  company  was  still  aboard, 
and  so  you  paid  no  attention.  When  I  saw  the  Nictii-e- 
roij  coming  up,  I  knew  my  chance  was  at  hand.  I  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  her  to  send  a  boat,  and  of  course  as 
more  than  half  her  officers  are  Americans,  I  had  the  good 
luck  to  fall  in  with  this  gentleman,  Lieutenant  Hunt,  and 
he  brought  me  here." 

Captain  Lockwood  warmly  thanked  the  American,  who 
now  returned  to  his  ship.  Robert  turned  and  shook 
hands  once  more  with  his  cousin. 

"Frank,  old  man,"  he  said,  "I  don't  know  how  to  tell 
you  of  my  grief  at  your  being  wounded.  If  it  hadn't 
been  for  me  you'd  never  have  come  down  here  and  en- 
listed." 

"I  can't  say  that,  Bob,  I  can't  say  that.  I  was  wild 
for  active  service,  and  I  hadn't  sense  enough  to  see  that 
in  a  foreign  navy  I  ran  the  risk  of  being  brought  to  quar- 
ters against  the  flag  of  my  own  country.  It's  been  a  ter- 
rible lesson  to  me.  I'm  afraid  I  should  have  come'even 
if  you  hadn't  been  here,  and  now  look  at  me.  Out  of  the 
service,  and  stranded  by  the  failure  of  this  miserable  re- 
bellion." 

"  Cheer  up,  Frank,"  said  Hal.  "I  know  it's  been  hard, 
but  I'm  sure  it  was  all  for  your  good." 

"Yes,  I  think  that.      I'm  much  changed,  I  believe." 

"And  so  am  I,"  said  Robert.  "Father,  I  ask  your 
forgiveness  for  what  I've  done,  and  I  promise  you  that 
from  this  time  out  I'll  be  guided  by  your  wisdom." 

"  Then  all  this  struggle  hasn't  been  for  nothing,"  said 
Captain  Lockwood. 

Two  or  three  days  later  Harold  and  George  again  vis- 
ited the  Alma,  bringing  Peter  with  them. 

"  We  have  come  to  say  good-by,  Frank,"  said  Hal. 

"  YTou  are  going  home?" 

"Yes;  the  Detroit  has  been  ordered  to  Norfolk.  The 
whole  fleet  will  be  scattered  in  a  little  while,"  said 
George. 

"God  bless  you,  fellows!  I  wish  I  were  going  with 
you." 

"  Well,  it  won't  be  long  before  you  follow,"  said  Cap- 
tain Lockwood.  "My  anchor  has  rested  in  Rio  mud 
long  enough.  I  am  going  back  to  that  precious  wharf 
now  and  get  my  cargo." 

"  And  then?"  asked  George. 

"And  then,"  replied  Captain  Lockwood,  "I'm  going 
to  set  sail  for  the  land  of  civilization.  The  doctor  says 
that  Frank  will  improve  at  a  twenty-knot  gait  now,  and 
in  less  than  a  week  I  hope  to  be  under  way  for  New 
York." 


.  "Hurrah  for  Central  Park  a.nd  the  circus  and  Coney 
Island  !"  cried  George.  "  Oh,  Frank,  I  wisli  I  were  going 
with  you." 

"  We  may  all  meet  sooner  than  we  expect,"  said  Frank. 
"You  know  we'  had  no  idea  that  we  should  come  to- 
gether down  here." 

The  two  cadets  shook  hands  with  their  friends,  and 
Captain  Lockwood  called  Peter  up  out  of  the  boat. 

"Shake  hands,  my  lad,"  he  said;  "an  honest  sea- 
man's grip  is  what  you  will  give  and  what  you  will 

get-" 

"Thank  ye,  sir,"  said  Peter,  "an1  a  werry  fair  wind 
an'  a  safe  landfall  to  all  of  ye  wherever  you're  bound  in 
this  'ere  world,  w'ich  the  same,  as  my  father  used  to  say, 
it  are  a  werry  good  world,  takin'  it  by  an'  large,  allus 
pervidin'  that  you  steecs  a  fair  course." 

When  the  Detroit  passed  out  of  the  harbor,  the  Alma 
and  the  other  American  merchant  ships  saluted  her  with 
every  mark  of  respect.  And  now  Captain  Lockwood  has- 
tened his  preparations  for  departure.  Robert  busied  him- 
self about  the  deck,  and  showed  that  he  had  already 
learned  a  good  deal  of  the  duty  of  a  seaman.  As  for 
Frank,  he  picked  up  strength  hand  over  hand,  and  by 
the  time  the  bark  moved  out  to  an  anchorage  again  he 
was  as  well  as  he  had  ever  been  in  his  life.  He  was  in 
the  best  of  spirits,  too.  He  was  gentle  and  full  of  fun 
with  his  fair  young  cousin,  whose  affection  for  him  was 
deepening  every  day.  He  was  full  of  manly  regard  for 
his  uncle,  and  of  honest  gratitude  toward  him.  His  hap- 
piness manifested  itself  in  many  ways,  but  chiefly  in 
buoyant  activity.  He  sprang  about  the  deck,  lending  a 
hand  in  the  work  of  preparing  the  bark  for  sea.  and  his 
skill  and  readiness  filled  Captain  Lockwood's  heart  with 
pride. 

"  A  born  sailor  that  boy  !"  he  exclaimed. 

"Yes,  sir,"  Mr.  Ball  responded;  "both  of  'em,  and  fit 
to  command  a  ship. 

"No,  I'd  hardly  say  that  about  Bob,"  said  the  Captain, 
"and  I  don't  care  to  have  him  so,  either.  But  Frank 
certainly  is." 

It  happened  that  two  days  before  the  bark  was  to  sail 
Captain  Lockwood's  second  mate  left  him  to  take  a  sud- 
denly offered  berth  aboard  a  steamer.  The  Captain  was 
glad  of  it. 

"  What  do  you  say,  Frank?"  he  cried  ;  "  will  you  serve 
as  my  second  mate  on  the  voyage  home?" 

"WTill  I!  Why,  Uncle  Hiram,  I'll  be  only  too 
glad." 

"Then  second  mate  of  the  Alma  you  are,  my  boy," 
said  the  old  skipper,  striking  his  horny  palm  into  that  of 
his  nephew  with  a  resounding  slap. 

The  morning  chosen  for  the  Alma's  departure  was 
bright  and  beautiful,  with  a  brisk  southwesterly  wind 
blowing.  Captain  Lockwood  had  instructed  Frank  as  to 
the  authority  and  responsibilities  of  a  second  mate  of  a 
merchantman,  and  the  boy  knew  just  what  he  had  to  do. 
Fold  after  fold  of  the  Alma's  creamy  canvas  fell  to  its 
length  and  was  sheeted  home,  while  Captain  Lockwood 
ordered  the  helm  a-starboard,  and  the  anchor  cleared  the 
ground  as  the  jib  rose  from  its  boom.  The  Alma,  leaned 
gently  over  to  port,  and  began  to  glide  away  toward  the 
narrow  entrance  of  the  harbor,  beyond  which  the  rich 
blue  of  the  South  Atlantic  spread  a  living  carpet  for  her 
tread. 

"  Get  a  pull  on  the  fore  and  main  braces !"  called  the 
Captain. 

"Ay.  ay,  sir."  answered  Frank's  fresh  young  voice, 
as  the  boy  led  his  men  to  their  work.  "  Now,  my  bullies, 
bowse  her  down." 

*  Begun  iu  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  No.  784. 


FEBRUARY  26,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


299 


"Born  sailor,  that  boy,"  said  Captain  Lock  wood  half 
aloud. 

"And  fit  to  command  a  ship,"  murmured  Minnie, 
echoing  the  favorite  sentiment  of  the  first  mate. 

The  bark  was  on  a  taut  bowline,  and  turning  the  lucent 
blue  into  streaks  of  silver  as  she  smoked  out  past  Fort 
Santa  Cruz. 

"  No  one  to  fire  on  us  going  out,"  said  the  Captain. 
"And  I  am  as  free  as  a  flying-fish,"  laughed  Bob. 
"I   should   think   so,"  said    Minnie.      "They   must  be 
glad  to  get  rid  of  us  all." 

"Poor  wretches!"  exclaimed  her  father,  thinking  of  the 
insurgents,  sick  and  wounded,  penned  up  on  the  Portu- 
guese war-sli  ips. 

"  And  I  might  have  been  one  of  them,"  said  Frank. 
The  young  second  mate  had  the  first  dog-watch,  and 
both  Captain  Lockwood  and  Mr.  Ball  studiously  avoided 
the  deck,  and  allowed  the  boy  full  command.  There  was 
little  or  nothing  for  him  to  do,  except  to  heave  the  log  and 
keep  the  record.  In  that  work,  however,  he  could  have 
given  instruction  to  both  the  older  seamen,  for  he  was  ail 
expert  navigator.  Minnie  was  on  hand  to  watch  him  at 
his  duties,  and  she  was  of  the  opinion  that  he  was  the 
finest  young  officer  she  had  ever  seen. 

"  The  lad  '11  have  the  first  watch,"  said  Mr.  Ball. 
"Yes,"  said  the  Captain,  "and  I  shouldn't  be  surprised 
if  he  had  a  chance  to  show  what  lie  knows.  These  south- 
westerly winds  'often  freshen  at  night  in  these  latitudes." 
As  for  Frank,  he  had  already  detected  signs  of  growing 
strength  in  the  breeze,  but  the  Alma  was  a  great  sail- 
carrier,  and  it  did  not  take  him  long  to  find  it  out. 
Nearly  through  the  first  dog-watch  he  let  her  boil  through 
it  with  her  royals  on,  but  at  the  last  moment  he  decided 
that  though  she  could  carry  them  she  would  do  as  well 
without  them.  So  he  sung  out: 

"Aloft  to  furl  royals !  Man  the  royal  clewlines,  flying- 
jib  downhaul!  Haul  taut!  In  royals,  down  flying-jib! 
Furl  the  royals!  Stow  the  flying-jib!" 

"Listen  to  him, "said  Captain  Lockwood,  in  the  cabin. 
"He's  doing  it  in  man-o'-war  style." 

"Bless  you,  sir,  he'll  soon  get  over  that.  You  see,  he 
knows  how  to  do  it,  anyhow." 

The  sailors  by  this  time  knew  that  their  young  second 
mate  was  a  thorough  seaman,  and  they  obeyed  him  with 
a  will.  When  Frank  went  on  deck  again  for  the  first 
watch  he  found  that  the  wind  was  gaining  in  power  all 
the  time,  and  -that  Mr.  Ball  had  furled  the  top-gallants. 
An  hour  later  the  boy  decided  that  the  courses  ought  to 
be  taken  in,  so  he  sent  word  to  the  Captain,  who  at  once 
came  on  deck  and  gave  the  necessary  orders.  It  now  be- 
came Frank's  duty  to  go  aloft  and  take  the  bunt  of  the 
mainsail.  If  he  had  shown  any  lack  of  strength  or  skill 
it  would  have  been  no  great  disgrace,  for  second  mates  are 
not  always  the  best  sailors.  But  the  seamen  who  lay  out 
on  the  main  yard  with  Frank  found  that  the  Annapolis 
training  was  sound.  The  boy  knew  his  business  and  had 
plenty  of  strength.  The  sail  was  taken  in  with  neatness 
and  despatch. 

"Well  done,  Frank!"  shouted  the  Captain,  when  the 
boy  regained  the  deck. 

"  Oh,  Uncle  Hiram,"  he  said,  "I  feel  as  if  I  could  haul 
up  the  main-topsail  reef  tackle  of  an  old-time  line-of-bat- 
tle  ship  all  by  myself." 
"You  do?" 

"Yes,  sir.  I  am  no  longer  in  the  service  of  a  foreign 
power.  I've  got  an  American  keel  under  me,  and  I'm 
bound  for  an  American  port." 

"  I'm  glad  you're  so  happy,  my  boy." 
"Happy!  Bless  you,  Uncle  Hiram,  I'm  overjoyed.  I 
feel  that  I  am  going  back  to  New  York  to  begin  life  over 
again,  to  take  it  up  where  I  made  the  false  start,  and  to 
try  to  do  better.  I've  learned  my  lesson,  sir,  and  I'll  not 
forget  it.  Go  it,  old  bark  !  You're  making  a  dozen  knots 


an  hour  and  taking  one  fellow  away  from  the  scene  of 
his  greatest  folly." 

"Two,  Frank, "said  Robert,  taking  his  cousin's  hand. 

CHAPTER    XXXIV. 
A    HAPPY    REUNION. 

A  YEAR  had  passed  since  the  events  reported  in  the 
opening  chapter  of  this  story.  The  brave  American 
fleet  which  had  assembled  in  the  harbor  of  Rio  de  Janeiro 
to  protect  the  interests  of  United  States  citizens  had  scat- 
tered far  and  wide.  The  San  Francisco  had  gone  to 
Nicaragua,  where  internal  dissensions  placed  Americans 
in  jeopardy,  and  she  had  in  a  short  time  been  followed  by 
the  armored  cruiser  New  York.  The  Detroit  had  gone 
back  to  the  navy-yard  at. Norfolk,  whence  she  had  set 
forth  with  our  two  young  friends  on  their  first  cruise  in 
the  active  service  of  the  flag,  and  the  good  little  ship  was 
undergoing  needed  repairs.  The  Alma  had  reached  New 
York  after  a  quick  passage,  discharged  her  cargo,  and 
made  a  short  voyage  to  Halifax  and  back.  Mr.  Ball  had 
resigned  his  post  for  a  comfortable  berth  ashore,  and 
Frank  had  been  promoted  to  the  position  of  first  mate. 
He  had  learned  to  like  the  merchant  service,  and  seeing 
no  other  vocation  open  to  him  at  the  time,  had  gratefully 
accepted  the  appointment  from  his  uncle.  Robert,  steadied 
by  his  own  unhappy  experience,  had  yielded  to  his  father's 
wish  that  he  should  remain  ashore,  and  was  now  a  clerk 
in  the  Captain's  office,  with  a  fine  prospect  of  succeeding  to 
his  father's  business. 

The  bark  was  lying  at  a  wharf  on  the  East  River  front, 
preparing  for  a  new  voyage  to  South  American  porls,  '' 
with  Rio  de  Janeiro  as  her  final  destination.  Frank  was 
as  busy  as  a  bee  superintending  the  preparations.  Captain 
Lockwood  was  aboard  the  vessel,  but  he  contented  him- 
self with  sitting  in  the  cabin  or  in  a  big  chair  under  an 
awning  spread  over  the  quarter-deck,  for  an  old  enemy, 
rheumatism,  the  result  of  many  years  of  exposure  to  wind 
and  rain,  had  possession  of  him.  Minnie  had  come  down 
from  the  house,  and  it  had  been  decided  that  they  should 
all  dine  aboard  the  bark.  Suddenly  the  clatter  of  rapidly 
approaching  footsteps  was  heard,  and  a  voice  sang  out 
from  the  wharf, 

"Aboard  the  Alma!" 

Frank  turned  his  head,  and  to  his  great  surprise  and 
joy  saw  Harold  King,  George  Briscomb,  and  Peter  Mor- 
ris standing  opposite  the  vessel  waving  their  hats.  The 
cadets  were  in  civilian  clothing,  but  every  movement 
betokened  their  familiarity  with  salt  water. 

"  Hello,  fellows !"  shouted  Frank.      "  Come  aboard  !" 

The  boys  sprang  up  the  gang-plank  and  threw  their 
arms  around  Frank. 

"  Bless  you,  old  man  !"  said  Harold.  "How  well  you 
look!" 

"  I  should  say  so!"  said  George.  "You  don't  look  like 
the  ghost  we  left  in  Rio  Harbor." 

"  Beggin'  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Peter,  "but  you  looks 
like  you  owned  most  o'  the  East  River,  an'  could  borrow 
the  North  without  givtn'  no  security." 

"Where's  the. Captain?"  asked  Hal. 

"And  your  pretty  cousin?"  added  George. 

"  They're  both  in  the  cabin." 

"  Let's  give  them  a  surprise,  Hal,"  said  George. 

The  next  minute  the  two  boys  tumbled  into  the  cabin 
like  two  young  bears. 

"How  are  you,  Captain?"  cried  George,  seizing  the 
mariner's  big  hand  and  shaking  it  enthusiastically. 

"Avast  there,  boy;  I've  got  the  rheumatics!"  cried 
the  seaman,  laughing  in  spite  of  the  twinges. 

"And  how's  the  sailor  girl?"  demanded  George. 

"Oh,  we're  all  well  and  happy,"  said  Minnie,  flushed 
with  excitement  and  pleasure  at  the  meeting. 

"  Did  you  see  Frank?"  asked  the  Captain. 


300 


HAKPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


'KUN    IT   UP,"   SAID    FRANK,   TAKING    OFF    1I1S    CAP    AND   FACING    AFT. 


"Yes,  we  certainly  did,"  answered  Hal. 

"  And  did  you  notice  what  he  was  up  to?" 

"  Seemed  to  me  to  be  a  sort  of  Rear-Admiral  of  the 
whole  business,"  said  George. 

"  He's  my  first  mate,"  said  the  Captain,  proudly. 

"  You  don't  mean  it!"  exclaimed  Hal,  with  a  delig-hted 
face. 

"  Yes,  and  a  better  one  I  never  had, "  declared  the  Cap- 
tain, emphatically. 

"That's  fine  news,"  said  the  cadet. 

"  And  now  I  want  you  boys  to  stay  and  have  dinner 
with  us,"  said  the  Captain. 

"Aboard  the  Alma?" 

"  Yes." 

"Well,  sir,  there's  nothing  in  the  world  could  give  us 
greater  pleasure  at  this  minute!"  exclaimed  Hal. 

"  Minnie,  girl,  you  go  and  tell  Kibo  that  we're  going 
to  have  a  dinner-party,  and  we  want  the  best  he  can  set 
out,  because  it's  the  chief  mate's  birthday." 

"Frank's  birthday?"  cried  the  young  men. 

"Yes;  he's  twenty-one  today,  and  it's  going  to  be  a 
red-letter  day." 

"  Let's  go  and  congratulate  him,"  said  George. 

The  two  boys  bounded  out  on  deck  and  shook  Frank's 
hand  till  he  was  sore. 

"  We  wish  you  many  happy  returns  of  the  day,  old 
man." 

"  Thank  you,  fellows.  I'd  like  it  to  come  pretty  often 
if  it  would  bring  you  with  it." 

Then  the  two  young  men  ran  back  to  the  cabin  and 
shook  hands  with  the  Captain,  and  congratulated  him  on 
having  such  a  good  fellow  as  Frank  fora  nephew. 

"  He  is  a  good  boy  and  a  fine  seaman,  and  that  un- 
happy experience  of  his  in  the  Brazilian  insurgent  navy 
has  steadied  and  made  a  man  of  him." 

An  hour  passed,  and  Kibo,  the  cook,  had  the  dinner 
ready.  Robert  had  been  sent  for  and  was  heartily  greeted 
by  the  cadets.  In  some  mysterious  way,  which  could  be 
attributed  only  to  Minnie,  some  pretty  flowers  appeared 


on  the  table,  and  the  cabin  was  filled  with 
the  perfume  of  summer  and  youth.  Seated 
at  the  head  of  bis  generous  board  Captain 
Lockwood  had  a  beneficent  smile. 

"Children."  he  said.  "I'm  free  to   say 
thisis  one  of  the  brightestdays  I'veknown 
in  a  reasonably  prosperous  life.    I'm  about 
to  propose  the  health  of  my  dear  nephew." 
"Hear!  hear!"  shouted  Peter,  who  had 
not  been  left  out  of  the  happy  gathering. 
"What  I  desire  to  do,"  continued  the 
Captain,   "  is  to  have   my  two  boys — for 
Frank's  as  good  as  a  son  to  me — 
"And  a  brother  to  me,"  said  Bob. 
"  Don't   interrupt,"  said    the   Captain. 
"I  want  these  two  boys  to  carry  on  my 
business  after  I'm  a  sheer  hulk.     So,  Bob, 
I'd  like  to  know  if  you're  willing  to  have 
me  give   Frank  an  interest  in  the  busi- 
ness?" 

"  Yes,  and  a   big   one,  too,"  said  Bob, 
heartily. 

"No,  no;  share  and  share  alike.   From 
this  day  you  each  have  half." 

"  Oil,  Uncle  Hiram!"  exclaimed  Frank. 
"Hear!  hear!"  shouted  Peter,  again. 
"  Avast  there,  my  hearty !"  said  the  Cap- 
tain, laughing.  "I'm  getting  along  in 
years,  and  I've  got  rheumatism,  and  I 
guess  I'd  better  stay  ashore  after  this.  So 
I  want  you  all  to  stand  up  and  give  three 
cheers  for  the  youngest  merchant  skipper 
in  America,  Captain  Frank  Lockwood,  of 
the  bark  Alma." 

"Hurrah!  hurrah!  hurrah!"  shouted  the  two  boys. 
For  a  few  seconds  Frank  was  pale  and  silent.      Then 
he  said,  "  Uncle  Hiram,  do  you  put  me  in  command  of 
this  bark?" 

"Yes;  and  you're  the  only  member  of  her  company 
that  didn't  know  it  till  this  minute." 

"  Let  us  go  on  deck,"  said  Frank,  gravely. 
They  passed  out  of  the  cabin,  and  the  crew,  knowing 
what  had  happened,  gave  Frank  a  cheer.      He  lifted  bis 
cap  and  said, 

"Quartermaster,  get  the  ensign  and  bend  it  on  the 
halyards." 

The  order  was  obeyed. 

"Run  it  up,"  said  Frank,  taking  off  his  cap  and  fac- 
ing aft,  while  the  others  imitated  him. 

When  the  flag  reached  the  peak  of  the  spanker-gaff  he 
put  on  his  cap,  turned  and  wrung  his  uncle's  hand. 

"Uncle  Hiram,"  he  said,  "I'll  do  my  best  to  deserve 
the  trust  you  have  reposed  in  me.  Every  morning  at 
eight  bells  that  flag  will  go  up  and  every  evening  at  sun- 
set it  will  come  down,  and  as  I  shall  never  again  be  un- 
faithful to  it,  so  I  shall  never  be  unfaithful  to  you." 
He  turned  to  the  two  cadets  and  grasped  their  hands. 
"  Fellows,  you've  been  real  friends.  Hal,  if  I'd  been  as 
cool  and  steady  as  you  I'd  never  have  turned  my  back 
on  the  flag." 

"  But  you've  had  your  punishment,  old  man,  and  now 
the  future  is  bright  before  you." 

"  Bob,"  said  Frank,  turning  and  clasping  his  cousin's 
hand,  "you  and  I  have  got  a  good  deal  more  than  we 
deserve,  but  we'll  try  to  make  your  father  feel  that  he's 
done,  wisely,  won't  we?" 

"That  we  will,"  replied  Bob. 

And  then  Minnie,  with  her  eyes  full  of  tears,  ran  up 
and  kissed  both  of  them. 

"  Jee-whiz!"  exclaimed  Peter;  "as  my  mother  used  to 
say  w'en  she  were  eatiu'  huckleberry  pie,  '  This  'ere's 
good  'uuff  fur  me.'  " 


CHILDREN'S    DANCING    CLASSES. 

BY  MRS.  A.  T.  ASIIMORE. 


NATURAL  dancing,  like  natural  grace,  it  is  well 
proved  in  these  days,  does  not  exist,  and  tlie  greatest 
care  and, pains  are  taken  to  train  children  to  be  graceful 
and  to  dance  well,  to  walk  well,  and  to  carry  themselves 
well.  It  would  seem  to  those  who  have  not  looked  thor- 
oughly into  the  subject  that  every  one  must  needs  know 
how  to  enter  a  room  or  to  walk  across  it,  but  never  was 
there  such  a  mistake.  The  man  or  woman  who  enters 
with  apparently  untrained  steps  and  unconsciously  grace- 
ful carriage  is  the  one  who  has  been  most  conscientiously 
trained  for  years,  and  who  places  his  or  her  foot,  holds 
his  or  her  head  and  shoulders  correctly  according  to  the 
rules  laid  down. 

There  is  a  point  in  dispute  as  to  whether  it  is  best  to 
send  children  of  very  tender  years  to  dancing- school, 
or  whether  they  do  not  learn  more  quickly  when  they 
are  eight  or  ten  years  old,  and  have  to  some  extent 
acquired  the  knowledge  of  how  to  learn.  There  are,  of 
course,  arguments,  apparently  convincing  ones,  advanced 
on  either  side.  The  children  who  learn  when  they  are 
very  young  do  not,  perhaps,  acquire  the  art  so  readily, 
but  they  do  become  accustomed  to  it,  and  have  not  to  un- 
learn awkward  faults,  as  do  the  older  ones  who  have 
walked,  run,  or  pranced  about  in  total  ignorance  of  how 
they  should  develop  their  muscles  to  the  best  advantage. 

To  go  to  dancing-school  is  as  much  part  of  the  educa- 
tion of  a  New  York  child  as  to  study  "reading,  'riling, 
and  'rithmetic,"  and  at  most  of  the  children's  parties 
which  are  now  given  dancing  is  as  much  a  feature  as 
were  the  old-fashioned  games  that  all  played  a  few  years 
ago.  Miniature  men  and  women,  indeed,  do  some  of  the 
youngsters  appear  at  these  parties,  but  they  enter  into  the 
dancing  with  their  whole  heart  and  soul,  and  evidently 
Hud  lots  of  fun  in  it. 

Several  of  the  dancing-teachers  are  women  who  have 
studied  the  teaching  of  dancing  as  a  profession,  and  who 
in  consequence  are  thoroughly  drilled  in  all  points. 


There  is  one  teacher  who  has  been  a  danseuse,  and  she  is 
exceedingly  graceful,  and  teaches  many  fancy  steps  winch 
are  not  included  in  the  regular  curriculum  of  dancing 
lessons.  Several  classes  are  taught  by  her,  but  they  are 
of  older  children  who  have  first  been  instructed  in  what 
might  be  called  the  A  B  C  of  dancing,  and  know  how 
to  dance  the  waltz,  polka,  and  one  or  two  of  the  simpler 
steps. 

Sherry's  ballroom,  where  so  many  of  the  "grown-up" 
dances  are  held,  is  a  favorite  place  for  the  children's 
classes,  and  while  the  rooms  present  a  very  brilliant  scene 
on  the  evenings  when  the  entertainments  are  given,  it  is 
an  open  question  as  to  whether  they  do  not  present  an 
even  more  attractive  appearance  when  sixty  or  seventy 
little  folk  are  being  taught. 

The  teacher,  a  young  girl,  stands  near  the  door,  and  as 
each  child  enters  the  room  he  or  she  makes  a  low  bow  or 
courtesy,  which  is  acknowledged  by  a  deep  courtesy  from 
the  teacher.  Then  tke  boys  go  to  their  seats  at  one  side 
of  the  room,  while  the  girls  go  to  the  other.  They  are 
always  aheacj  of  time,  for  dancing-school  is  voted  good 
fun,  and  they  are  one  and  all  anxious  not  to  lose  any  of 
the  two  hours  allotted  to  the  lesson. 

When  it  is  half  after  ten,  the  hour  for  the  lesson  to  be- 
gin, the  teacher  calls,  "Third  and  fourth  classes,"  and 
the  beginners  and  those  who  find  it  hard  to  learn  stand 
up.  Such  a  pretty  picture  as  these  rows  of  children  pre- 
sent! In  the  front  row  are  the  wee  ones,  some  not  older 
than  four  years.  The  boys  in  sailor  or  Eton  suits,  with 
hair  parted  in  the  middle  and  plastered  down  in  the  most 
dudelike  way,  their  faces  and  ears  shining — the  latter 
generally  quite  crimson — their  hands  incased  in  white 
kid  gloves,  and  an  air  of  excitement  that  is  amusing  to 
see.  The  girls  are  very  simply  but  tastefully  dressed, 
and  the  tiny  ones  on  the  first  line,  with  big  puffed  sleeves 
almost  as  large  as  themselves,  look  marvellously  like 
young  robins  as  they  hop  up  and  down,  first  on  one  foot 


302 


HAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


and  then  on  the  other,  keeping  or  trying  to  keep  time  to 
the  music.  The  usual  uncertainty  prevails  as  to  which 
is  the  right  and  which  the  left  foot,  and  at  first  there  is 
apt  to  be  some  confusion  as  they  bump  into  one  another 
in  their  efforts  to  do  just  as  the  teacher  does;  but,  birdlike, 
they  do  not  mind,  and  hop  along  just  as  happy  as  ever. 
It  is  quite  curious  liow  they  manage  to  keep  time.  The 
music,  which  consists  of  a  piano,  is  played  in  very  strong- 
ly accentuated  time,  to  be  sure,  but  still  it  is  remarkable 
how  they  manage  to  take  the  steps  just  at  the  right  mo- 
ment. After  they  have  stood  in  line  for  a  short  time 
learning  the  steps  the  boys  are  told  to  take  partners  for 
a  march  around  the  room.  Being  boys,  they  make  a  rush 
for  the  girls  in  quite  a  childlike  way,  but  as  soon  as  they 
get  in  front  of  the  partner  they  wish  to  secure  they 
straighten  and  make  the  most  conventional  of  bows, 
which  the  little  maids  answer  by  deep  sweeping  courtesies. 
What  the  law  is  which  induces  the  largest  boys  to  choose 
the  smallest  girls  is  unknown.  The  fact  remains  that 
they  always  do,  so  there  is  some  slight  delay  while  the 
teacher  arranges  them  more  in  accord  with  their  size. 
The  march  is  then  played,  and  the  procession  around  the 
room  begins.  Very  stately  and  graceful,  it  is  like  the 
minuet  steps,  while  each  child  must  hold  himself  or  her- 
self as  erect  as  possible. 

After  the  march  each  little  cavalier  leads  his  partner 
back  to  her  seat,  makes  a  stately  bow,  and  then  in  true 
boy  fashion  slides  across  the  room  back  to  his  own  place. 

When  the  first  and  second  classes  are  called  the  older 
and  more  proficient  pupils  stand  up  and  are  instructed  in 
the  mysteries  of  the  more  fancy  dances.  "Step,  step, 
slide,  and  hop,"  they  go  over  it  again  and  again,  until 
the  teacher  considers  they  have  thoroughly  understood 
the  lesson,  and  they  are  then  allowed  to  take  partners 
and  dance  around  the  room.  The  court  quadrille,  a 
stately  dance  iu  which  are  all  the  fancy  steps,  is  the  last 
on  the  programme  before  the  final  march,  which  always 
ends  the  lesson,  as  it  begins  it.  The  boys  again  bow  to 
their  partners,  and  also  to  the  teacher,  and  leave  the  room 
with  much  dignity,  and  in  five  seconds  are  pummelling 
one  another  in  the  dressing-room  in  quite  a  different 
fashion  from  the  solemn  and  dignified  manner  in  which 
they  left  the  ballroom. 

The  girls  seem  to  be  more  impressed  with  the  solem- 
nity of  the  occasion,  and  even  in  the  dressing-room  are 
sedate  and  demure,  and  somewhat  conscious  of  their 
clothes,  but  the  unconsciousness  of  their  childhood  is  not 
lost.  One  small  girl  asks  another  if  she  has  not  had  a 
lovely  time,  and  the  other  answers:  "Oh  yes,  and  I  had 
such  nice  partners.  The  first  dance  a  boy  asked  me  to 
dance  with  him,  and  that  was  'fine,'  and  the  next  dance 
nobody  asked  me,  so  I  walked  up  to  some  little  boys 
and  asked  them  if  they  wouldn't  like  to  dance  with  me. 
And  they  said  indeed  they  would,  and  so  we  all  enjoyed 
ourselves."  And  the  little  maid  was  as  happy  as  possible, 
quite  unconscious  that  when  she  grew  older  and  went  to 
grown-up  dances  she  would  have  no  such  liberty,  but 
would  have  to  wait  until  she  was  asked. 

The  two  hours  devoted  to  the  lesson  go  very  quickly, 
and  there  is  never  any  difficulty  in  making  the  children 
go  to  the  class.  Dancing  is  a  natural  expression  in  all 
sorts  and  conditions  of  life,  and  from  the  little  ragged 
children  dancing  in  the  street  to  the  music  of  the  barrel 
organs,  to  the  carefully  nurtured  sons  and  daughters  of 
more  wealthy  parents,  one  and  all  love  the  exercise  and 
excitement.  

JACK'S  TRICK. 

"  TACK  always  was  clever  and  quick-witted,"  said  bis  grand- 
tr  mother,  somewhat  proudly,  to  tlie  other  elderly  ladies  who 
sat  about  the  tea  table,  "  but  he  did  the  cleverest  thing  of  his 
life  last  Christmas  at  dinner.  He  did  it  so  well  that  uo  one  ever 
knew  it  until  he  told  us  about  it  himself  later  in  the  evening. 


"There  were  about  a  dozen  of  us  at  the  table,  and  we  had 
enjoyed  a  regular  old-fashioned  Christmas  dinner.  The  only 
stranger  present  was  a  Mexican  gentleman,  a  business  friend  of 
Jack's  father,  who  had  merely  been  invited  because  lie  was  alone 
in  a  strange  country,  and  would  otherwise  have  had  t<>  eat  his 
Christinas  dinner  at  a  restaurant.  He  \vus  a  tall,  thin,  dark- 
skinned,  dark-eyed,  dark-haired  man,  and  I  did  not  like  him  the 
moment  I  laid  eyes  on  him.  But  he  was  a  very  polite  person, 
and  kept  bowing  and  smiling  at  all  of  us  all  during  tbe  dinner. 

"Of  course  we  had  plum-pudding  for  dessert,  and  it  being  a 
liieat  occasion,  we  ate  tbe  pudding  with  the  beautiful  gold 
spoons  that  my  grandmother,  almost  a  hundred  years  ago, 
brought  over  from  Holland. 

"The  Mexican  seemed  to  admire  them  very  much,  and  asked 
many  questions  about  them.  Then  we  ate  our  pudding, 
and  we  forgot  about  the  golden  spoons  while  listening  to  queer 
stories  of  life  in  Mexico,  told  in  broken  English  by  our  guest. 

"  I  did  not  notice  it  at  the  time,  but  I  remembered  afterwards 
that  Jack  seemed  to  be  nervous  and  fidgety  all  this  time,  and 
pret  ty  soon  ho  began  juggling  with  bis  knife  and  fork,  and  toss- 
ing up  oranges,  and  making  nuts  disappear  in  the  air. 

"Jack  always  was  clever  at  sleight-of-hand  tricks,  and  we 
thciuglit  he  wanted  to  display  his  ability  before  the  stranger,  so 
we  allowed  him  to  do  his  tricks,  and  we  applauded  at  each  one. 
When  he  had  secured  the  attention  of  every  one  at  the  table  he 
began  talking  in  the  exaggerated  manner  of  showmen,  and  as- 
serted that  he  would  now  take  anything  on  the  table  and  make 
it  travel  through  the  air  unseen.  He  said  lie  thought  one  of 
the  gold  spoons  would  make  the  most  rapid  journey,  and  he 
picked  up  the  one  beside  his  plate,  and  pretended  to  wrap  it  up 
iu  his  napkin. 

"'Now  I  want  yon  all  to  be  sure,'  lie  said,  'that  there  is  no 
one  in  collusion  with  me  in  the  performance  of  this  trick.  I 
shall  try  to  make  a  success  of  it  without  for  a  moment  incurring 
your  suspicion.  I  shall  make  the  spoon  travel  through  the  air 
and  lodge  in  a  certain  place,  and  then  to  prove  that  there  is  no 
deception  on  my  part,  and  that  I  really  have  made  the  spoon 
travel  through  the  air,  I  will  let  Bessie  get  it  and  show  it  to 
you.' 

"Bessie  is  Jack's  little  sister,  you  know,  and  she  is  only  live 
years  old.  She  sat  next  to  him  at  the  table  on  a  high  chair,  and 
wore  a  little  white  sleeveless  dress,  so  that  it  was  impossible,  of 
course,  for  her  to  hide  the  spoon  up  her  sleeve.  She  was  de- 
lighted at  the  idea  of  taking  part  iu  tbe  trick.  In  the  mean 
while  Jack  had  in  some  way  made  the  spoon  disappear,  and  he 
shook  the  napkin  out,  and  showed  us  that  it  was  gone. 

"'Abracadabra,'  he  muttered,  with  much  show  of  mystery. 
'The  spoon  has  flown  through  the  air,  and  Bessie  will  now  go 
and  seek  it.  She  will  find  it  in  the  breast  pocket  of  the  Sefior 
from  Mexico.' 

"The  Mexican  looked  startled,  and  said  it  was  absurd  to  try 
to  do  that;  that  there  could  be  no  spoon  in  bis  pocket,  and 
that  he  would  not  allow  the  little  'angel  girl'  to  search.  But 
Jack  insisted  that  it  was  only  a  trick,  and  that  he  had  chosen 
to  have  the  spoon  fly  into  the  guest's  pocket  because  no  one 
would  believe  in  his  powers  of  magic  if  he  bad  named  the 
pocket  of  one  of  his  own  relatives.  But  the  Mexican  kept  on 
protesting,  and  became  very  red  in  the  face,  and  we  all  had  to 
persuade  him  to  allow  little  Bessie  to  look  and  see  if  the  spoon 
had  flown  into  his  pocket.  Finally,  after  a  great  fuss,  he  con- 
sented, and  Bessie  put  her  little  arm  into  his  breast  pocket,  and 
first  pulled  out  a  handkerchief  and  then  a  spoon. 

"'It  is  a  trick,  a  disgusting  trick!'  exclaimed  the  Mexican, 
and  he  really  appeared  vexed  at  Jack's  cleverness.  Jack,  how- 
ever, appeared  immensely  pleased,  and  Bessie  was  delighted. 

"When  bedtime  came,  and  the  children  were  dragged  awav 
from  their  Christmas  presents,  I  told  Jack  he  was  a  very  clever 
boy  with  his  tricks. 

"'Clever  nothing!'  exclaimed  Jack,  iu  atone  of  boyish  dis- 
gust. 'I  saw  the  Dago  put  the  spoon  iu  his  pocket  when  be 
thought  no  one  was  looking;  and  I  just  made  up  my  mind  lie 
was  not  going  to  carry  off  one  of  your  grandma's  Dutch  spoons. 
The  only  way  I  could  think  of  getting  it  without  making  a  tnss 
was  to  pretend  to  do  a  trick.  If  the  trick  bad  not  worked, 
though,' concluded  Jack, '  I  would  not  have  let  him  get  out  of 
the  house  with  that  spoon  anyway.  I  would  have  spilled  some- 
thing all  over  his  coat,  so  he  would  have  had  to  send  it  down  to 
tbe  kitchen  to  dry,  or  something  like  that.' 

"'That's  the  kind  of  a  grandson  to  have,' remarked  the  old 
lady  ;  and  you  may  be  sure  that  after  Jack's  father  had  heard 
the  story  he  never  had  any  further  dealings  with  his  Mexican 
guest." 


FEBRUARY  20,  1S95. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


303 


WHERE  THE  TROLLS  ARE  BUSY. 

BY   MARGARET   E.   SANGSTER. 

T7l,THERE  the  trolls  are  busy, 

Underneath  the  snow, 

There  is  stirring,  there  is  whirring, 

Of  flowers  that  yet  will   blow. 

The  little  trolls  are  spinning 

The  crocus  garments  gay, 
Cups  of  hone}',  colors  sunny, 

To  see  the  light  one  day. 

Beneath  the  great  oak's  foot,  dears, 

And  by  the  frozen  stream, 
On  her  pillow  Pussywillow 

Is  waking  from  a  dream. 

For,  oh  !  the  trolls  are  busy, 

When  wintry  breezes  blow, 
Weaving  flowers  for  summer  hours, 

Deep  down  beneath  the  snow. 


THE   STRANGE 


ADVENTURES  OF  TOMMY 
TODDLES. 


BY     ALBERT    LEE. 
CHAPTEU  XI. 

THE  Sheep  stepped  up  to  the  house  and  knocked  on  the  door 
with  his  gold-headed  cane,  and  when  the  Penguin  came  in 
person  to  see  what  was  wanted,  he  introduced  Tommy  and  the 
ex-Pirate. 

"  We  have  come,"  began  the  Sheep,  "  to— 

But  the  Penguin  interrupted  him,  and  said,  in  a  nervous, 
jerky  manner:  "  I  hope  you  will  excuse  me,  but  I  am  very  busy 
jnst  at  present.  If  you  will  come  in  and  sit  down  I  shall  be 
through  with  my  work  in  a  short  while,  and  will  then  be  able 
to  spare  yon  a  few  moments  of  my  very  valuable  time." 

So  saying,  he  nodded  his  head  to  each  one  of  them  and  hur- 
ried back  into  his  office,  where  he  climbed  on  a  high  stool, 
leaned  over  his  desk,  and  began  to  write  assiduously.  He 
wrote  so  fast  that  every  few  minutes  his  pens  gave  out  from 
sheer  friction  ;  but  the  editor  had  a  Porcupine  tied  to  his  stool, 
and  every  time  a  pen  broke  he  leaned  over  and  pulled  a  quill 
out  of  the  captive  at  his  feet.  The  only  fun  the  Porcupine 
seemed  to  get  out  of  life  was  to  roll  over  and  jab  the  office  C;ii- 
fish  in  the  ribs  every  time,  he  got  a  chance,  a  proceeding  which 
was  not  only  exceedingly  distasteful  to  the  office  Cattish,  but 
it  likewise  greatly  annoyed  and  disturbed  the  Penguin.  The 
only  other  living  being  in  the  editorial-room  was  the  printer's 
Devil-fish,  who  seemed  to  be  compositor,  pressman,  proof-reader, 
and  everything  else  all  rolled  into-  one.  He  was  the  busiest 
creature  Tommy  had  seen  since  he  bade  good-  by  to  the  Reform- 
ed Burglar.  Occasionally,  when  the  Crabs  made  so  much  of  a 
racket  outside  that  the  Penguin  could  no  longer  hear  the  wheels 
turning  in  his  head,  the  printer's  Devil-fish  would  leave  his  work 
and  spare  a  minute  to  jump  up  ou  the  window-sill  and  shout: 

"See  here,  you  newsboys^  out  there!  If  you  don't  make  less 
noise  I'll  have  you  all  deviled." 

"  What  does  he  mean  by  that  T'  asked  Tommy. 

"  Haven't  you  ever  heard  of  deviled  Crabs  T'  said  the  ex-Pirate. 

"Yes;  but  how  can  the  printer's  Devil-fish  devil  Crabs?" 

"You  ought  to  hear  him  sometimes,"  remarked  the  Sheep. 
Then,  reflectively,  "Those  newsboys  are  a  bad  lot." 

"Are  the  Crabs  the  newsboys?"  queried  the  little  boy. 

"  Surely.  They  have  to  be.  They  are  the  only  ones  who  can 
run  around  as  easily  ou  land  as  under  water.  They  distribute 
the  extras  along  the  shore,  and  they  also  skim  along  the  bottom 
of  the  sea  and  up  the  rivers,  and  sell  the  papers  to  the  fishes.  I 
guess  the  Penguin  is  getting  out  an  extra  now.  That's  why 
he's  so  busy." 

"  We  forgot  to  ask  him  who  won,"  put  in  the  ex-Pirate. 

"Well,  let's  go  out  and  ask  the  Gargoyle  about  it." 

"Do  you  think  we  can  get  him  to  come  off  the  roof?" 

"I  guess  so.  He  must  be  in  good  humor  to-day;  the  sun  is 
out." 


"Is  not  he  good-humored  unless  the  sun  is  out?"  asked 
Tommy. 

"  No,  indeed.  The  Gargoyle  is  greatly  influenced  and  affected 
by  the  weather.  On  cloudy  days  he  is  glum  and  morose  and 
disagreeable,  and  won't  speak  to  any  one;  and  on  rainy  days  he 
becomes  very  sad  and  weeps." 

Whereupon,  without  warning,  the  ex-Pirate  began  : 

The  Gargoyle  roosts  fantastically 

Upon  the  curling  eaves, 
His  head  thrust  out  bombastically 

At  all  things  he  perceives. 

His  stony  eyes  stare  steadily 

At  everything  below, 
And   when  it   rains  they  readily 

Shed,  a  quart  of  tears  or  so. 

Thus  every  rainy  evening, 

While  his  lonely  watch  lie  keeps, 
He  blinks  his  sad  and  solemn  eyes, 

And  mournfully  he  weeps. 

"I  had  never  noticed  that  about  Gargoyles,"  remarked  Tom- 
my, "  but  I  suppose  it  must  be  true." 

"Of  course  it's  true,"  exclaimed  the  ex-Pirate,  who  was  in- 
clined to  take  Tommy's  half-implied  doubt  as  a  personal  injury. 
"If  yon  don't  believe  it  ask  the  Gargoyle." 

They  all  three  stepped  out  in  front  of  the  house,  and  the 
Sheep,  bowing  politely  to  the  Gargoyle  up  above  him,  asked  him 
if  he  would  not  come  off  the  roof. 

"I  will,  with  the  greatest  of  pain,"  replied  the  Gargoyle, 
blinking  his  red  eyes  at  the  Sheep.  Then  he  began  to  move 
along  down  the  edge  of  the  pediment  slowly  and  awkwardly. 

"He's  got  the  rheumatism  badly, "said  the  ex-Pirate. 

••  What  can  you  expect?"  retorted  the  Sheep.  "He  stays  out 
all  night.  No  wonder  he  has  the  rheumatism." 

"And  he  is  all  covered  with  moss,"  remarked  Tommy. 

"  Oh,  that's  nothing,"  said  the  Sheep.  "  That's  merely  a  sign 
of  his  green  old  age." 

The  Gargoyle  slipped  carefully  down  one  of  the  pillars,  and 
hobbled  stiffly  over  to  where  Tommy  and  his  friends  were  seated 
in  the  sand  ou  the  opposite  side  of  the  house  from  where  the 
Crabs  were  making  so  much  noise,  and  with  a  series  of  grunts 
and  moans  he  sat  down  himself. 

"It's  all  right,"  he  began,  "as  soon  as  I  get  fixed;  but  it's  no 
fun  getting  tixed." 

Tummy  got  near  enough  to  the  Gargoyle  to  feel  of  him,  and  ho 
found  that  he  was  as  hard  and  as  cold  as  a  stone.  The  little 
boy,  of  course,  had  marvelled  at  hearing  the  animals  converse, 
but  words  from  a  stone  image  filled  his  cup  of  amazement  to  the 
brim.  This  brief  interval  of  wonderment  and  reflection  drew 
his  mind  back  to  the  point  he  had  started  from  (viz.,  his  stray 
animals),  and  he  bethought  him,  with  a  twinge  of  conscience, 
that  for  some  time  past  he  had  neglected  to  make  the  diligent 
inquiries  he  should  have  made  along  the  route.  So  he  hastened 
t<>  speak  to  the  Gargoyle  before  the  ex-Pirate  had  time  to  put 
his  question  about  the  result  of  the  duel. 

"  Have  yon  seen  any  animals  to-day  1"  Mr.  Gargoyle. 

"Crowds  of  animals;  I  never  saw  so  many  in  all  my  existence, 
and  I  have  been  carved  a  long  while." 

"Did  yon  see  my  animals?" 

"What  are  they  like?" 

This  was  a  poser  for  Tommy,  because  he  felt  that  he  really 
did  not  know  what  his  toys  were  like,  since  they  had  taken  it 
upon  themselves  to  grow  up  and  become  animated  and  walk 
away.  So  he  answered,  non-commiltally  : 

"Oh, just  like  animals,"  which  conveyed  but  little  informa- 
tion to  the  Gargoyle.  Then,  in  the  brief  pause  that  followed, 
the  ex-Pirate  jumped  into  the  conversation  with  his  questions: 

"The  animals  were  here  to  see  the  duel,  I  suppose." 

"  Exactly." 

"And  who  won?" 

"Who  won  ?"  exclaimed  the  Gargoyle,  in  amazement.  "The 
Peuguiu,  of  course.  He  is  getting  out  an  extra,  now,  with  an 
account  of  the  fight  in  it.  It  is  to  be  illustrated  with  pictures 
of  himself  and  of  the  Sword-fish,  and  the  Sword-fish's  father  and 
mother  and  his  two  little  daughters,  and  the  rocks  near  which 
he  was  born,  and  the  school  books  he  used  when  he  was  a  little 
Sword-fish,  and  all  sorts  of  things  that  have  nothing  to  do  with 
the  matter  at  hand." 

"  Indeed."  said  the  Sheep. 

"Certainly,"  continued  the  Gargoyle, "  and  I  suggested  the 
head-line  for  the  main  story  myself." 

"What  is  it?" 


304 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


A   LITTLE   PHILANTHRO- 
PIST. 

"WHY,  Robbie,  where 
are  your  rubbers  ?  Didn't 
you  wear  them  to-day?" 

"Yessiim;  but  coniiu' 
home  I  met  a  poor  man  who 
said  he  hadn't  had  anything 
to  eat  for  two  days,  aud  as 
I  hadn't  any  money,  I  gave 
him  my  rubbers." 


CERTITUDE. 
'  I   KNOW    that   this    corn- 

starcli  is  frozen." 
And      as      Tommy     this 

speechlet  delivers, 
'Oh!  how  do  you  know  ?" 

asks  his  mother. 
"Why,  because,  mamma, 
see  how  it  shivers  !" 


A  LITTLE  GIRL'S  REASON. 

"  I'M  glad  I  don't  own  all 
the  dolls  in  the  world,"  said 
Mahrl ;  "  because,  you  know, 
if  I  did,  I  couldn't  possibly 
have  another." 


WHAT  HE  WANTED. 

"PAPA,"  said  Jiimnieboy, 
as  he  watched  the  new  ca- 
nary with  much  interest, 
"  when  that  bird  dies  can  I 
have  his  whistle!" 


EDITORIAL   ROOM  OF   THE   "TIDAL   WAVE." 


"  It  is  brief  and  to  the  point.  It  sums  up  the  whole  situation 
in  one  sentence,  thus, 

'"THE    PENGUIN   IS    MIGHTIER   THAN    THE  SWORD-FISH.'" 

"That's  pretty  good,"  said  the  ex-Pirate  ;  "  but,  you  know,  we 
have  not  heard  anything  at  all  about  the  duel  yet.  And  you 
must  have  had  a  splendid  view  of  it  from  the  house-top.  Won't 
you  tell  us  something  about  it?" 

"Certainly,"  answered  the  Gargoyle,  good-naturedly.  "But 
afterwards  you  must  buy  a  Tidal  JTuve  extra,  and  read  about  it 
for  yourselves." 

They  agreed  to  do  this,  aud  the  Gargoyle  then  begau  to  relate 
the  incidents  of  the  fight. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


"B 

make 
iniuj;, 


CONCERNING  THE  GOOSE. 
"  DOESN'T  this  goose  seem 
to   be   as  tough   as  rubber, 
papa?" 

"  Yes,  Bertie,  it  does." 

it  I  don't  suppose,  papa,  that  his  rubber  is  so  much  to 
him  tough,  as  it  is  to  keep  him  dry  wheu  he  goes  swim- 
is  it?" 


A  LIKENESS. 
1  LIKE  the  little  skeeters 

That  come  buzzing  'bout  my  ears, 
Though  sometimes   when  they  bite  me 

My  eyes  fill  up  with  tears. 

They're  really  so  courageous, 

So  lively,  so  defiant, 
They  make  me  think  that  they  are  Jack, 

Aud  I'm  a  great  big  giant. 


Ji 

'  *{!  • '  \ 

' 


THE    AFRICAN    EXPLORER. 

"AU,    A    BEAUTIFUL   SPECIMEN    OF  TUB   COBRA.  ONR    WKLT..-AI  MUD    BLOW    AT   THE    I1EAU   AND- 


TIGER,  B'GOSH  !" 


HARPE      

TONG  PEOPLE 


Copyright,  1895,  by  HAHPKH  &   BROTHERS.     All  Riglita  Reserved. 


PUBLISHED    WEKKLY. 
VOL.   XVI. — NO.   801. 


NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY,  MARCH  5.   1805. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO    DOLLAIIS    A    YEAR. 


THE    NATIVE    PILOT    DESERTS    HIS   POST. — SEE    NEW   SERIAL 

SNOW=  SHOES  AND  SLEDGES. 


SNOW-SHOES    AND     SLEDGES. 


A    Sequel    to    "The    Fur-Seal's    Tcoth." 

BY     KIRK     M  U  N  R  O  E, 
AUTHOR  OF  "  DORYMATES,"  "  CAMPMATES,"  "  RAFTMATES,"  "  CANOEMATES,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER    I. 
ALLOWED   TO   SPEAK   FOR    THEMSELVES. 

OF  course,  if  every  reader  of  this  story  had  also  read 
its  forerunner  there  would  be  no  need  of  intro- 
ducing its  characters,  for  they  would  already  be  old 
friends.  We  would  merely  meet  them  at  the  place 
where  they  have  been  patiently  awaiting  us  all  this'time, 
give  them  an  encouraging  nod  of  recognition,  and  tell 
them  to  go  ahead  with  their  adventures  as  fast  as  they 
pleased.  That  would  be  well  enough  for  us  who  are 
acquainted  with  them;  but  to  those  who  may  chance  to 
read  this  sequel  without  having  first  read  the  story  that 
gives  it  a  reason  for  being,  the  references  to  people,  things, 
and  incidents  of  the  past  that  must  necessarily  be  made 
from  time  to  time  would  be  confusing.  Therefore  it 
seems  fitting  that  those  characters  of  the  previous  story 
who  are  to  figure  with  any  prominence  in  this  one  should 
be  properly  introduced;  and  in  order  to  avoid  the  dis- 
criminating partiality  of  the  author,  who  would  be  apt  to 
say  too  much  concerning  those  whom  he  fancied,  or  too 
little  about  those  whom  he  disliked,  each  one  shall  be 
given  the  privilege  of  introducing  himself.  To  begin 
with,  here  is  our  old  friend  Phil  Ryder. 

"Yes,  that  is  my  name  right  enough.  As  to  myself, 
if  any  one  cares  to  know  who  I  am,  and  where  I  am, 
and  how  I  got  here,  I  am  the  son  of  Mr.  John  Ryder, 
of  New  London,  Connecticut.  He  is  a  mining  expert, 
and  is  at  present  engaged  in  investigating  some  properties 
near  Sitka,  Alaska,  where  I  was  to  have  joined  him  last 
May.  It  is  now  September,  and  I  haven't  got  there  yet, 
though  I  have  been  ti-avelling  steadily  ever  since  April, 
and  trying  my  very  best  to  reach  Sitka.  I'm  sure  it  isn't 
my  fault  that  things  have  happened  to  take  me  most 
everywhere  else,  and  finally  to  drop  me  away  up  here  in 
northern  Alaska,  two  thousand  miles  or  so  beyond  Sitka. 
I'm  on  the  right  track  now,  though,  for  I  am  on  a  steam- 
boat belonging  to  Mr.  Hamer,  bound  up  the  Yukon  River. 
It  will  take  me  to  the  head  of  navigation.  Then  all  I 
shall  have  to  do  will  be  to  cross  the  Divide  to  Chilkat  and 
take  another  steamer  for  Sitka,  which  place  I  expect  to 
reach  before  the  winter  is  over.  Then  my  father's  anx- 
iety will  be  relieved,  for,  I  suppose,  he  is  anxious,  though 
I  can't  see  why  he  should  be." 

"  I  am  Serge— Serge  Belcofsky,  born  in  Sitka  long  after 
Alaska  became  part  of  the  United  States.  I  went  to  school 
there,  of  course,  but  after  graduating  I  still  longed  for  a 
better  education  than  Sitka  afforded.  So  I  shipped  aboard 
a  homeward-bound  whaler  for  New  London,  Connecticut, 
where  I  went  to  school  for  a  year.  There  I  met  Phil 
Ryder,  who  was  not  only  the  most  popular  fellow  and 
the  best  athlete  in  the  whole  school,  but  who  became  the 
best  friend  I  ever  had.  If  he  wasn't,  I  should  never  have 
given  him  the  fur-seal's  tooth  which  a  Chilkat  chief  gave 
to  my  father.  On  his  death  my  mother  gave  it  to  me, 
and  soon  after  it  passed  into  Phil's  hands  he  lost  it. 
Since  then  it  has  turned  up  so  many  times,  in  such  mys- 
terious ways,  and  has  had  so  much  to  do  with  shaping 
our  fortunes,  that  I  can't  help  believing  at  least  part  of 
the  old  tales  concerning  it.  Anyhow,  the  way  it  has 
managed  to  follow  us  right  up  to  date  is  certainly  won- 
derful. It  isn't  likely  that  we  shall  see  it  again,  though, 
now  that  the  old  Eskimo  has  got  hold  of  it,  for  he  evident- 
ly realizes  its  value.  But,  as  Mr.  Coombs  says — 

"Hold  hard  there,  hearty!  You  may  allow  that  I'm 
a  thousand  miles  away;  but  I'm  not.  And  when  it  comes 
to  taking  words  out  of  my  very  mouth  you'll  find  that  I'm 


right  alongside.  As  my  friend  old  Kite  Roberson  uster 
say,  '  A  man  what  can't  speak  up  for  hisself  hadn't  orter 
be  allowed  to  vote.'  My  name  is  Jalap  Coombs,  half 
Yankee  and  half  British  subject,  late  mate  of  the  Sea- 
men-, now  acting  Cap'ti  of  the  schooner  Philomeel,  in 
which  me  and  Mr.  Ryder  is  searching  for  the  slippery 
young  chaps  what  has  jest  now  introduced  theirselves. 
Awhile  ago  we  thought  we  had  'em,  but  things  happened, 
and  now  we're  all  at  sea  again  without  an  idee  of  how  the 
wind  '11  blow  next.  But  as  old  Kite  uster  offen  say, 
'When  you  don't  know  what  to  do,  the  best  thing  is  to 
do  nothing.'  That  is  what  we  are  liable  to  do  for  some 
time,  seeing  as  the  Philomeel  are  hard  and  fast  aground 
on  a  mud  bank,  with  a  nor'  wind  blowing  all  the  water 
outer  Norton  Sound." 

"Although  I  am  the  Fur-seal's  Tooth,  and  now  in  the 
hands  of  a  wretched  Eskimo,  I  propose  to  leave  him  very 
shortly  to  continue  my  travels  until  I  reach  my  proper 
resting-place,  and  to  exert  a  very  considerable  influence 
upon  the  forth-coming  story.  If  you  doubt  my  word,  just 
bear  me  in  mind  and  watch  for  my  appearance." 

CHAPTER     II. 
A   DANGEROUS   BERTH    OFF   YUKON   MOUTH. 

EIGHTY  miles  south  of  Redoubt  St.  Michaels,  the  one 
lonely  trading-station  of  that  bleak  northern  coast,  the 
mighty  Yukon  pours  forth  its  turbid  flood,  discoloring 
the  waters  of  Bering  Sea  for  one  hundred  miles  offshore. 
In  point  of  size,  as  measured  by  length,  the  Yukon  ranks 
seventeenth  among  the  rivers  of  the  world,  and  fifth 
among  those  of  the  United  States,  but  its  volume  of  water 
is  computed  to  be  equal  to  that  of  the  Mississippi,  while, 
like  the  Father  of  Waters,  it  is  constantly  eating  away 
its  own  banks  and  tearing  them  down  acres  at  a  time 
along  its  entire  length.  Thus  it  has  become  a  shoal 
stream  of  immense  width,  crowded  with  islands  and  sand- 
bars, on  all  of  which  are  huge  stacks  of  bleached  drift- 
wood piled  up  by  spring-time  floods.  In  the  neighbor- 
hood of  its  fanlike,  many-mouthed  delta  the  tawny  giant 
has  deposited  its  muddy  sediment  for  so  many  ages  that 
it  has  created  hundreds  of  square  miles  of  low  swamp 
lands,  on  which  only  coarse  grasses  and  stunted  willows 
grow.  In  the  early  summer  these  vast  swamps  afford 
safe  breeding -places  for  millions  of  swans,1  ducks,  and 
geese.  Here  also  are  produced  such  incredible  swarms 
of  mosquitoes  that  neither  human  beings  nor  animals 
dare  penetrate  their  watery  solitudes.  Nor  are  mosqui- 
toes confined  to  the  Yukon  delta;  but  its  entire  valley 
is  so  infested  with  them  that  summer  is  a  season  to  be 
dreaded  by  whites  and  natives  alike.  Even  the  wild 
animals  of  its  forests  retreat  to  the  snow-clad  mountains, 
so  that  there  is  little  or  110  game  to  be  procured  between 
spring  and  autumn.  The  only  compensation  of  the  sea- 
soil  is  that  it  brings  the  finest  salmon  of  the  world  into 
the  river  in  such  vast  shoals  that  every  dweller  within 
one  hundred  miles  of  its  banks  may  from  them  lay  in 
his  year's  supply  of  food  by  the  labor  of  a  single  month. 

In  the  summer,  too,  the  four  or  five  trade-boats — all 
light  draught,  stern-wheeled  steamers  like  the  Chimo — 
that  ply  on  the  river  make  their  annual  trips  with  pro- 
visions, goods,  and  an  eight- months'  accumulation  of 
mail,  carrying  joy  to  lonely  mission  stations  and  trading- 
posts,  native  villages,  and  distant  mining -camps.  On 
their  return  in  the  fall  they  are  freighted  with  gold-dust 
and  the  spoils  of  the  most  prolific  fur-producing  district 
now  left  to  the  world. 


MARCH  5,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


307 


These  things  formed  the  principal  topics  of  conversa- 
tion in  the  pilot-house  of  the  sturdy  little  Chimo  as, 
aided  by  a  strong  north  wind,  she  swept  down  the  deso- 
late coast  of  Norton  Sound.  The  six-by-seven-foot  en- 
closure was  occupied  by  Gerald  Hamer,  the  stalwart  lead- 
er of  the  expedition,  by  Phil  and  Serge,  and  by  an  Eskimo 
pilot,  who  had  been  obtained  at  St.  Michaels.  The  two 
boys  were  in  there  for  warmth,  for  the  season  was  late 
September,  which  in  that  latitude  is  very  close  to  the 
beginning  of  winter,  and  the  brisk  north  wind  held  so 
keen  an  edge  that  no  one  remained  on  deck  unless  forced 
to  do  so. 

Gerald  Hamer  was  there  to  watch  his  native  pilot,  in 
whom  he  had  little  confidence.  He  was  also  uneasy 
concerning  his  boat,  which  had  been  put  together  in  the 
greatest  haste  on  the  beach,  just  beyond  the  Redoubt,  in 
the  face  of  all  possible  annoyance  from  its  inmates;  they 
being  devoted  to  the  cause  of  the  already  established  com- 
pany, were  determined  that  no  other  trader  should  gain 
a  foothold  in  the  country  if  they  could  prevent  it. 

Being  anxious  to  obtain  the  good-will  of  the  natives 
from  the  outset,  Gerald  Hamer  had  allowed  a  number  of 
them  who  dwelt  in  the  Yukon  delta,  and  were  desirous  of 
returning  home,  to  take  passage  on  the  Chimo,  which 
towed  their  walrus-skin  bidarrahs  or  open  boats  behind 
her.  These  passengers — men,  women,  and  children,  fat, 
greasy,  and  happy — made  themselves  perfectly  at  home  on 
the  lower  or  cargo  deck  of  the  steamer,  sprawling  over 
her  freight,  peering-  inquisitively  at  her  engine,  and  rev- 
elling in  the  combined  odors  of  steam  and  oil  pervading 
that  part  of  the  boat. 

Before  half  the  distance  down  the  coast  was  covered, 
mysterious  accidents  began  to  happen  to  the  machinery. 
First  it  came  to  a  stop,  and  the  engineer  reported  that 
something  had  so  seriously  gone  wrong  that  it  would  be 
necessary  to  anchor  while  he  made  an  examination.  To 
the  horror  and  dismay  of  all  hands,  a  gunny  sack  was 
found  to  be  stuffed  so  far  into  the  exhaust  that  the  pipe 
had  to  be  taken  apart  before  the  obstruction  could  be 
reached  and  removed.  Not  long  after  this  danger  was 
averted  one  of  the  pumps  refused  to  work.  It  was  taken 
to  .pieces,  and  was  found  to  contain  a  large  nail,  which 
must  have  been  recently  dropped  into  it.  There  was  no 
doubt  but  that  these  things  had  been  done  intentionally; 
and  as  suspicion  naturally  fell  on  the  native  passengers, 
some  of  whom  were  known  to  be  in  the  employ  of  the 
old  company,  Gerald  Hamer  finally  ordered  them  to  leave 
the  steamer. 

Not  understanding  the  cause  of  this  peremptory  order, 
and  being  loath  to  exchange  their  present  comfortable 
quarters  for  the  open  boats,  the  natives  obeyed  so  slowly 
and  sulkily  that  it  almost  seemed  as  though  they  were 
about  to  insist  on  remaining  aboard.  At  length,  how- 
ever, all  were  gone  except  one  woman,  who  held  a  child 
in  her  arms,  and  who  refused  to  leave  the  warm  corner 
of  which  she  had  taken  possession. 

Determined  to  get  rid  of  her,  and  despairing  of  moving 
her  by  other  means,  Gerald  Hamer  suddenly  snatched 
the  child  from  her  arms,  ran  to  the  open  gangway,  and 
dropped  it  gently  into  a  bidarrah  that  still  waited  along- 
side. In  an  instant  the  mother  had  followed,  and  could 
be  seen  as  the  boat  was  shoved  off  hugging  the  infant  to 
her  bosom,  at  the  same  time  darting  furious  glances  after 
the  departing  steamer.  A  minute  later,  as  though  in 
compliance  with  her  evident  though  unexpressed  wish, 
the  Chimo  was  run  hard  and  fast  aground  ou  one  of  the 
innumerable  bars  that  so  jealously  guard  Yukon  mouth. 
Her  native  steersman  had  been  leaning  from  the  pilot- 
house door  watching  the  dismissal  of  his  compatriots, 
and  especial!}' of  his  own  wife  and  baby,  as  the  last  two 
put  off  afterwards  proved  to  be,  instead  of  attending  to  his 
duty. 

Phil,  who  remained  in  the  pilot-house,  saw  the   bank 


just  before  the  boat  struck,  and  snatched  the  wheel  hard 
over,  at  the  same  time  ringing  bells  to  stop  and  back  at 
full  speed.  But  it  was  all  too  late,  and  ere  she  could  be 
stopped  the  Chimo  had  slid  half  her  length  into  the 
treacherous  mud.  In  another  minute  the  fleet  of  bidar- 
rahs swept  by,  and  from  them  came  mocking  laughter, 
mingled  with  derisive  shouts.  One  of  them  ran  along- 
side, and  ere  any  one  on  the  steamer  knew  what  was  tak- 
ing place  the  native  pilot  had  deserted  his  post,  and  was 
being  borne  away  in  triumph  by  his  fellows. 

"I  only  hope  nothing  worse  will  come  of  it,"  said 
Phil,  anxiously,  when  Gerald  Hamer  finally  rejoined  him 
in  the  pilot-house. 

"  What  do  you  mean?" 

"Why,  the  pilot  said  something  about  that  baby  hav- 
ing the  measles,  which  I  understand  have  been  pretty 
bad  on  the  river  this  summer,  and  if  that  is  the  case  some 
of  us  may  have  caught  them." 

"  Oh,  I  guess  there's  no  danger,"  replied  the  Captain. 

It  was  too  late  to  do  anything  that  evening,  for  the 
short  northern  day  was  already  merged  in  dusk,  and  the 
next  morning  though  anchors  were  carried  out  astern 
they  came  home  through  the  soft  mud  as  if  it  were  so 
much  water  the  moment  a  strain  was  put  on  them.  Sheer- 
poles  were  rigged,  and  an  attempt  was  made  to  pry  the 
boat  off  by  means  of  them  ;  but  again  the  mud  offered  so 
little  resistance  that  the  effort  only  resulted  in  failure. 
So,  after  working  like  beavers  for  hours,  the  Chime's 
crew  resigned  themselves  to  waiting  as  patiently  as  might 
be  for  a  change  of  wind  and  higher  water. 

In  this  enforced  delay  three  precious  days  were  spent, 
and  nightfall  of  the  third  found  the  Chimo  still  outside 
Yukon  mouth  instead  of  one  hundred  miles  or  more  in- 
land as  had  been  hoped.  Still,  with  so  energetic  a  leader  as 
Gerald  Hamer,  those  three  days  were  by  no  means  wasted. 
He  overhauled  and  restowed  the  cargo  hurriedly  put  on 
board  at  St.  Michaels,  and  with  the  engineer  made  a 
thorough  examination  of  the  machinery.  He  reorgan- 
ized his  slender  crew,  appointing  Phil  and  Serge  first  and 
second  mates,  and  giving  each  charge  of  a  watch. 

Besides  the  Captain,  the  two  mates,  and  the  engineer, 
there  were  three  other  persons  in  the  crew.  Two  of  them 
were  millwrights,  who  were  going  to  Forty  Mile  to  set  up 
the  saw-mill  that  formed  part  of  the  Chimo' s  cargo,  but 
who  now  served  as  firemen.  The  third  was  a  sullen- 
faced  fellow  named  Strengel,  who  had  been  engaged  from 
the  steamer  Norsk,  which  brought  the  expedition  to  St. 
Michaels,  to  act  as  assistant  engineer.  Phil  took  a  dis- 
like to  this  fellow  from  the  first,  and  it  was  strengthened 
by  the  fact  that  he  seemed  to  have  contracted  an  intimacy 
with  some  of  the  inmates  of  the  Redoubt,  who  were 
avowed  enemies  of  the  expedition. 

Besides  doing  the  things  already  mentioned,  the  Cap- 
tain and  his  two  young  mates  took  a  small  boat  and 
staked  out  about  ten  miles  of  the  channel  that  the  Chimo 
would  follow  as  soon  as  she  again  floated. 

On  the  evening  of  the  third  day  the  wind  changed,  and 
as  the  steamer  would  probably  float  during  the  night  the 
Captain  ordered  steam  to  be  got  up  and  everything  made 
ready  for  a  start  at  daylight.  He  turned  in  early,  com- 
plaining of  great  weariness  and  many  pains,  which  he 
attributed  to  the  cold  and  the  frequent  drenchings  that 
had  accompanied  his  sounding  of  the  channel. 

The  following  morning,  when  Phil  went  to  report  that 
the  steamer  was  afloat,  and  also  to  make  a  grave  charge 
against  Assistant  Engineer  Strengel,  he  was  horrified  to 
find  the  Captain  raving  in  the  delirium  of  a  high  fever. 
Thus  to  his  intense  dismay  the  young  mate  suddenly 
found  himself  burdened  with  the  entire  responsibility  of 
the  expedition,  with  both  a  mutiny  and  a  very  sick  man. 
on  his  hands,  in  an  unfriendly  country,  and  about  to  be 
confronted  with  the  terrors  of  an  arctic  winter. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


308 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


A  HOTEL  FOR  CATS  AND  DOGS. 

BY  WALT2R  C.    NICHOLS. 

1  TRS,  WINTER  was  sitting  sewing  in  her  room  up- 
1V1  stairs  when  little  Margie  came  running  up  with  a 
tearful  face. 

"  Oh,  mamma,"  she  cried,  "  I  can't  find  pussy  any- 
where. Cook,  says  she  never  came  in  for  her  milk  this 
morning  or  to-night,  and  I'm  'fraid  she's  lost,  or  eaten 
up,  or  something.  Can't  I,  or  papa,  or  somebody  hunt 
for  her,  or  something?  I'm — I'm  'fraid  she'll  never  come 
bark." 

"Your  papa  will  not  be  here  to-night,"  replied  Mrs. 
Winter;  and  then  trying  to  calm  Margie,  "but  I  think 
when  Uncle  Jack  comes  home  he  may  be  able  to  help 
you  find  kittle." 

When  Uncle  Jack  arrived  home  for  dinner,  an  hour 
later,  he  was  told  of  the  trouble,  and  made  Margie  very 
happy  by  saying  that,  if  she  would  stop  worrying  till 
morning,  he  thought  that  kittie  could  be  found  all  right. 

"That  is,''  added  Uncle  Jack,  "if  a  lion  has  not  eaten 
her  up,  and  lions,  you  know,  don't  walk  around  New 
York  very  much;  they  are  afraid  of  policemen." 

"  But  how  are  you  going  to  find  her?"  put  in  Margie's 
older  brother  Tom. 

"You're  not   going      ^^^^^^^m  ^o« 

out  with  a  dark-lan- 
terii  to  look  for  her, 
are  you?" 

"  Oh  no,"  replied 
Uncle  Jack,  with 
a  mysterious  nod, 
"but  some  one  else 
is." 

Margie  was  all  cu- 
riosity to  know  who 
it  was,  whether  Santa 
Glaus,  or  Mr.  Badge- 
ly,  her  Sunday- 
school  Superintend- 
ent, or  who.  But 
Uncle  Jack  told  her 
to  wait  till  morn- 
ing, and  they  would 
all  start  off  together 
for  the  cat. 

At  breakfast-time  the  cook  came  in  again  and  said  there 
•was  no  sign  of  the  cat;  and  if  it  had  not  been  for  her 
sturdy  belief  in  her  Uncle  Jack,  Margie  would  have 
given  up  in  despair  and  cried.  As  it  was,  she  felt  very 
serious  when  she  and  Uncle  Jack  and  Brother  Tom,  who 
only  felt  sorry  for  the  loss  of  pussy  because  it  left  one 
less  creature  to  plague,  started  out  of  the  house.  They 
went  down  Twenty-third  Street,  and  although  both  chil- 
dren were  very  curious  to  know  where  they  were  going, 
it  was  not  until  they  were  on  a  Second  Avenue  elevated 
train,  spinning  rapidly  along  past  the  house-tops  towards 
Harlem,  that  their  destination  was  explained. 

"  Kittie  never  could  have  walked  up  here,"  said 
Margie. 

"  No,"  replied  Uncle  Jack,  "  but  somebody  might  have 
brought  her.  You  see,  Margie,  there  are  people  in  New 
York  whose  sole  business  'it  is  to  hunt  all  the  while  for 
cats  and  kittens  and  dogs  they  think  are  lost  or  stolen, 
and  bring  them  up  to  a  nice  house  built  specially  for 
them,  and  keep  them  there  and  feed  them  till  the  owners 
come.  If  anybody  loses  a  dog  or  cat,  he  goes  direct  to 
this  place,  which  is  under  the  care  of  the  Society  for  the 
Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Animals,  and  is  called  the 
'Shelter  for  Animals.'  It  was  less  than  a  year  ago  that 
they  used  to  have  dog-catchers  in  New  York,  who  could 
catch  stray  dogs  and  cats,  and  after  a  day  drown  them. 
Last  March  the  Legislature  up  at  Albany  gave  this  society 


THE    CAT    ASL>    L>0«    HOTEL    OMNIBUS. 


power  to  issue  licenses  to  the  owners  of  dogs,  and  to  seize 
and  care  for  all  dogs  and  cats  which  are  found  without 
collars  bearing  the  names  of  the  owners  around  their 
necks." 

"  Oh,  dear,  dear!"  exclaimed  Margie;  "  poor  kittie  only 
had  a  blue  ribbon  for  a  collar." 

"That's  almost  as  good,"  Uncle  Jack  reassured  her. 
"You  see,  the  men  who  go  around  in  the  carts  on  this 
work  know  that  when  a  cat  has  a  pretty  ribbon  around 
her  neck — even  if  the  name  isn't  there — some  little  girl 
is  very  fond  of  her,  and  so  they  are  very  careful  to  keep 
the  cat  until  an  owner  is  found.  But  the  tramp  cats — 
the  kind  that  kept  your  mamma  awake  by  their  concert 
the  other  night — those  they  kill  if  they  are  not  claimed 
after  forty-eight  hours." 

"How  dreadful!"  said  Margie. 
"I'd  like  to  see  'em  drowned!"  put  in  Tommy. 
"You're  a  ruffian,  Tom,"  resumed  Uncle  Jack,  "and 
you  ought  to  get  lost  yourself  and  have  a  big  policeman 
club  you,  and  see  how  you   like  it  yourself.      But  they 
don't  drown  them.     That's  the  way  the  city  used  to  do 
with  its  stray  cats   and  dogs,  and   they   used  to   suffer. 
Now  they  kill  those   they  have  to  by  giving  them  gas, 
just  as  the  dentist  did  to  you,  Margie,  when  you  had  your 

tooth  pulled.  It 
simply  puts  the  old 
tramp  cats  and  dogs 
to  sleep  and  they 
never  wake  up." 

"But  they  don't 
treat  the  dogs  the 
way  they  do  the 
cats,  do  they  ?"  asked 
Tom. 

"  Parti  3T,"  answer- 
ed her  uncle.  "They 
wait  a  week  gener- 
ally before  they  kill 
the  dogs  who  are 
unclaimed.  If  there 
is  a  collar  on  the 
dog's  neck,  the  own- 
er is  notified,  and  he 
comes  up  and  re- 
claims the  dog  and 
pays  three  dollars  to 

the  society  for  their  trouble  and  the  animal's  board.  At 
the  end  of  a  week  the  men  at  the  '  Shelter  '  pick  out  the 
better  dogs  from  the  poorer,  and  try  to  find  homes  for 
them.  In  the  end,  however,  the  tramp  dogs  meet  the 
same  fate  as  their  sisters,  the  tramp  cats.  But  you  can 
soon  see  for  yourself,  children,  for  we  are  almost  there." 
The  three  got  off  the  station  at  Ninety-ninth  Street, 
clambered  down  the  stairs,  and  after  walking  up  Second 
Avenue  to  One  Hundred-and-second  Street,  and  over 
three  blocks  to  the  east,  they  found  themselves  on  the 
river-bank  and  just  in  front  of  a  long  one-story  wooden 
structure,  bolstered  up  from  the  ground  by  a  series  of 
piles.  Across  the  side  of  the  house  was  a  large  sign, 
"Shelter  for  Strayed  Animals."  When  they  went  iii- 
side,  they  met  two  men  clad  in  light  brown  uniforms, 
with  caps  shaped  like  those  the  firemen  wear.  Through 
the  open  door  beyond  came  a  confused  noise  of  many 
barks,  growls,  and  meows. 

"  Sounds  like  the  circus,"  said  Tom,  "  when  Professor 
Menduseu  comes  on  with  his  trained  dogs  and  monkeys, 
and  the  clown  begins  whipping  them." 

"  I  don't  know  what  it  sounds  like,"  put  in  Margie. 
"  But  I  don't  hear  kittie's  voice,  and  I  want  her." 

"That's  so,"  returned  Uncle  Jack,  decisively;  "and 
that's  what  we've  come  for."  He  turned  to  one  of  the 
attendants  at  the  desk.  "We've  come  in  search  of  my 
niece's  little  kitten.  A  gray  Maltese — 


MARCH  5,  1S95. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


309 


"With  a  blue  ribbon  around  her 
neck!''  exclaimed  Margie. 

"  Guess  it's  No.  46,  Jim, "said  the  man 
addressed,  to  the  other  attendant.  "  The 
fact  is,  sir,  that  it's  the  only  one  with  a 
blue  ribbon,  sir.  When  we  get  that  kind 
we  know  it's  some  favorite  pet  of  a  young 
lady.  Jim,  take  these  people  out  to  see 
46." 

Then  Uncle  Jack  and  Margie  and  Tom 
went  out  into  the  cat  and  dog  hotel.  It 
was  a  room  about  eighty  feet  long  and 
twenty-five  feet  wide.  On  one  side  was 
a  series  of  six  large  wooden  pens,  each 
the  size  of  a  horse's  box-stall.  These 
were  for  the  dogs;  and  as  the  children 
and  their  uncle  passed  by,  the  dogs — 
mongrel,  terrier,  setter,  spaniel,  and  New- 
foundland —  yelped  a  pleading  chorus 
for  release.  Some  had  collars  and  might 
hope  for  an  early  return  home,  and  the 
others — poor,  helpless,  dirty  curs — were 
unconsciously  waiting  a  painless  death. 
On  the  other  side  were  a  number  of  small 
kennels,  with  heavy  slats  for  the  more 
savage  dogs  who  could  not  get  along  with 
their  brothers  in  the  larger  and  more 
neighborly  pens.  Above  them  were  the  small  cages  where 
the  lost  cats  were  kept.  And  there,  just  opposite  to  where 
they  stood,  was  "46."  Margie  sprang  forward  eagerly. 
Yes,  it  was  her  own  kittie,  blue  ribbon  and  all. 

"Kittie!  kittie!  kittie!"  Margie  cried,  excitedly  and 
pleadingly. 

The  attendant  opened  the  door.  There  was  no  doubt 
about  it.  The  kitten  recognized  Margie,  sprang  to  her 
shoulder,  and  lost  all  remembrance  of  the  terrors  of  her 
surroundings,  the  near  growls  of  more  dogs  than  she  had 
ever  seen  before,  in  one  long  contented  purr.  The  other 
cats  looked  on,  no  doubt  as  green  as  their  own  eyes  with 
envy  that  they  were  not  the  ones  to  be  released.  They 
soon  forgot  all  about  this,  though,  in  the  enjoyment  of 
the  milk  and  Indian  meal  porridge  that  were  given  them 
just  a  few  minutes  afterwards. 

"  This,"  Jim,  the  attendant,  explained,  "  the  cats  get 


SOME  OF  THE  APARTMENTS  IN  THE  HOTEL. 

twice  a  day.  The  dogs  receive  a  sort  of  porridge  with 
liver  in  it  twice  a  day,  and  nice  bones  once  a  day.  They 
get  '  Hotel  Waldorf  fare,'  "  he  said.  He  told  Uncle  Jack 
that  during  the  last  eight  months  the  "shelter"  had  re- 
ceived 5111  dogs  alone,  and  about  15,000  cats.  "  More 
of  the  dogs  were  returned  to  their  owners  than  cats," 
said  Jim. 

"  I  s'pose  that  means,"  said  Margie,  as  she  walked  out 
with  Tom  and  Uncle  Jack,  hugging  her  kitten  all  the 
closer,  "that  those  extra  tramp  cats  went  to  sleep  and 
never  woke  up." 

The  man  mumbled  a  rather  surprised  "yes."  Margie 
continued : 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you  what  I'm  going  to  do,  Uncle  Jack. 
When  I  grow  up  and  get  rich,  I'm  going  to  build  a  home 
for  friendless  cats,  who  can  live  by  themselves  in  safety." 

"  For  the  old  tabbies  who  gossip?"  asked  Uncle  Jack, 
with  a  quizzical  look. 

"  No,"  answered  Margie;   "  just  for  the  kittens." 


W1IEUE    TUB    FOOD    IS    COOKED. 


EVERY   MAN  HIS  DAY. 

AX    EPISODE    OF    THE    AFGHAN    WAR. 
BY  DAVID    KER. 

RUT  I  tells  yer  I  seed  'im  agoin'  to  the  rear  with  my 
•  own  heyes!" 

"  Well,  wot  if  yer  did?  The  Colonel  said  hisself — and 
/heerd  him  say  it — as  'ow  he'd  sent  him  to  the  rear  with 
a  horder." 

"  Oh,  yes!  the  Colonel  said  it,  and  so  in  course  it  must 
be  true — we  all  knows  lhat!  Why,  Bill  Barton,  ain't  yer 
got  no  more  sense  nor  that?  It's  likely,  ain't  it,  that  the 
Colonel  'ud  go  and  tell  everybody  as  'ow  one  of  his  horfl- 
cers,  and  a  friend  o'  his  own  into  the  bargain,  had  been 
and  showed  the  white  feather  in  haction  !  It's  all  werry 
fine  to  say  he  sent 'im  to  the  rear  with  a  horder,  but  I'll 
lay  a  rupee  I  could  put  that  there  border  in  my  eye,  and 
see  none  the  worse !" 

"Wot? — d'ye  mean  to  go  and  tell  me  thata  Englishman 
can  be  afraid?'  cried  vehemently  the  young  fellow  who 
had  spoken  before. 

"  Well,  when  you  sees  a  Englishman  turn  tail  and  run 
away  under  fire,  wot  do  you  ginerally  call  him  yourself?" 

To  this  pointed  question  Bill  Barton  found  no  reply 
save  an  inarticulate  grunt. 


310 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


"What  do  you  think  of  it  all,  corporal?"  asked  one  of 
the  men,  turning  to  a  hard-faced  old  fellow,  who  was 
listening  with  an  air  of  quiet  superiority  to  the  talk  of  the 
young  soldiers,  among  whom  his  age  and  long  service, 
together  with  his  rank  as  a  non-commissioned  officer,  had 
made  him  a  kind  of  oracle. 

"Well,  it's  just  this  way,"  replied  the  old  soldier; 
"they  say  every  man  has  his  day,  and  it's  true  enough. 
A  man  has  his  good  days  and  his  bad  days,  his  clever 
days  and  his  stupid  days,  his  days  when  he's  all  right  and 
his  days  when  he's  all  nohow;  and  same  way  he  has  his 
fightin' days  and  not-fightin'  days,  and  this  was  one  o' 
hisn.  One  day  a  man  '11  fight  like  fifty  mad  cats,  and 
another  day  he'll  he  afeard  of  his  own  shadder!" 

"I've  seen  many  a  strange  thing  in  my  time," thought 
the  stout-hearted  old  Colonel  that  same  night,  with  bitter 
grief,  "but  never  did  I  expect  to  see  my  old  friend's  son 
turn  his  back  upon  the  Queen's  enemies!" 

Far  deeper  and  more  poignant,  however,  was  the  dis- 
tress of  the  ill-fated  lad  for  whom  he  was  grieving. 
Creeping  into  his  tent,  as  if  shunning  the  very  light  of 
day,  the  young  subaltern  threw  himself  upon  his  bed, 
and  gave  way  to  a  paroxysm  of  despair  so  bitter  and  in- 
tense that  even  the  death  from  which  he  fled  would  have 
been  mercy  to  it. 

Yes,  he  had  fled.  The  brave  old  Colonel  might  gener- 
ously strive  to  hide  his  fault  from  others,  but  he  could 
not  hide  it  from  himself.  On  the  day  of  his  very  first 
battle— that  day  to  which  he  had  always  looked  forward 
so  eagerly  for  a  chance  of  distinguishing  himself — he  had 
lost  his  nerve,  betrayed  his  weakness,  and  blasted  his 
career  at  once  and  forever! 

It  is  in  such  moods  that  men  are  tempted  to  their  de- 
struction ;  and  the  temptation  was  close  at  hand.  He 
had  nothing  to  live  for  now,  and  death  could  have  no 
terrors  for  one  who  was  already  dead  to  all  that  makes 
life  worth  having.  He  stretched  out  his  hand,  and  caught 
hold  of  a  pistol. 

The  next  moment  the  slumbering  camp  (for  it  was 
now  night)  was  startled  by  a  single  shot ;  and  then,  as  if 
that  report  had  been  a  signal,  the  crash  of  a  rifle  volley 
rang  through  the  still  air  like  a  peal  of  thunder,  while 
high  above  it  rose  the  yell  of  the  Afghan  war-cry. 

It  was  the  old  story— -"lions  commanded  by  asses." 
The  General  in  command,  with  want  of  plain  common- 
sense,  had  neglected  to  take  the  most  ordinary  precau- 
tions against  such  an  enemy  as  the  depised  Afghans; 
and  he  was  now  about  to  learn  to  his  cost  that  these 
Afghans  were  not  to  be  despised,  after  all. 

Taken  by  surprise,  and  suddenly  aroused  from  sleep  by 
an  attack  in  the  dark,  the  young  English  soldiers  (many 
of  whom  had  never  been  under  fire  before)  began  to  lose 
their  heads,  got  jammed  up  together,  and  in  a  few  mo- 
ments more  would  have  been  merely  a  helpless  mass. 

"Open  out!  open  out!  don't  get  clubbed!"  shouted  a 
clear  voice,  suddenly,  amid  the  uproar,  as  a  light  figure 
came  springing  to  the  front.  "Come,  we  won't  let  these 
Afghan  curs  say  that  they  beat  Englishmen.  Hurrah!" 

"  Hurrah!"  echoed  fifty  voices  at  once,  as  the  men  be- 
gan to  rally  round  their  new  leader,  while  the  Afghans, 
startled  by  the  shout,  and  supposing  that  a  re-enforcement 
had  suddenly  come  up  to  the  help  of  their  adversaries, 
hesitated  for  an  instant — and  that  instant  made  all  the 
difference. 

As  a  tall  stately  man  in  the  rich  dress  of  an  Afghan 
chief  stepped  forth  from  the  disorderly  mass  of  Asiatics 
and  waved  his  men  on,  the  English  leader  flew  at  him 
like  one  reckless  of  life,  and  cut  him  down  with  a  single 
blow.  Then,  flinging  away  his  broken  sabre,  he  snatched 
his  fallen  enemy's  tulwar  (short  sword),  and  hewed  down 
two  more  Afghans,  shouting, 

"  Comeon,boys!  give 'em  the  bayonetlike  Englishmen!" 

"Who  the  dickens  is  that  chap?"  muttered  a  soldier  to 


his  comrade;  "  he  fights  as  if  lie  meant  to  lick  the  whole 
kit  of  'em  single-handed!" 

"  Blowed  if  /  know!" answered  the  other;  "but  who- 
ever ho  is.  I'm  game  to  follow  him  slap  down  a  tiger's 
throat,  if  he  goes  at  it  like  that!" 

On  came  the  English,  and  for  a  few  minutes  there  was 
a  wild  hand-to-hand  melee,  in  which  both  sides  fought 
like  tigers;  but  discipline  at  length  prevailed  over  blind 
fury,  and  the  Afghans,  already  disheartened  by  the  fall 
of  their  leader,  began  to  give  ground,  while  at  the  same 
time  fresh  troops  were  seen  coming  up  to  the  assistance 
of  the  little  band  of  heroes  who  had  turned  the  battle. 

But  the  day  (or  rather  the  night)  was  not  won  yet;  for 
just  then  another  huge  mass  of  Afghan  warriors  burst  in 
upon  the  disordered  English  from  the  opposite,  side,  her- 
alding their  charge  with  a  murderous  fire.  The  British 
began  to  fall  fast,  and,  staggered  by  the  shock,  as  well  as 
discouraged  by  the  overwhelming  numbers  of  their  as- 
sailants (now  fully  revealed  to  them  by  the  flames  of 
some  huts  which  the  Afghans  had  set  on  fire),  began  to 
waver  once  more. 

"  What?"  shouted  their  impromptu  leader;  "will  you 
give  up  just  when  you've  got  the  game  in  your  hands? 
Follow  the  old  flag!" 

And  snatching  the  colors  from  their  falling  bearer,  he 
plunged  headlong  into  the  sea  of  white  robes  and  dark 
faces  before  him. 

That  was  enough.  The  English  set  up  a  shout  that 
made  the  air  ring,  and  on  they  came  like  a  mighty  wave. 
Before  that  tremendous  rush  neither  strength  nor  valor 
was  of  any  avail.  The  swarming  enemies  were  swept 
away  as  if  they  had  never  been  ;  and  when  the  battle 
was  over  many  of  the  Afghans  were  found  dead  without 
a  wound,  literally  trampled  flat  by  the  fury  of  the  charge. 

The  victory  was  won  —  but  where  was  he  who  had 
helped  to  win  it? 

Where,  indeed?  Not  till  after  a  long  and  anxious 
search  did  the  conquerors  at  length  drag  forth  from  a 
heap  of  dead  the  still  breathing  body  of  the  hero  of  that 
terrible  night,  with  his  clothes  almost  torn  from  his  back, 
and  his  life-blood  pouring  fast  through  half  a  dozen 
wounds,  any  one  of  which  seemed  more  than  enough  to 
make  an  end  of  him;  and  he,  to  every  one's  stupefaction, 
proved  to  be  the  "  coward  "  of  the  previous  morning,  who, 
when  just  about  to  take  his  own  life  in  despair,  had  been 
called  forth  by  the  distant  shot  that  told  of  the  approach- 
ing enemy,  to  seek  a  soldier's  death  as  the  one  thing 
left  him  to  hope  for. 

"  No  good — he'll  die!"  said  one  of  the  soldiers. 

"Die?  he  sha'n't  die!"  cried  another  man,  fiercely. 
"  God  could  never  have  the  heart  to  let  him  arter  fightin' 
like  that!" 

And  a  tear — the  first  he  had  ever  been  known  to  shed 
— dropped  upon  that  white,  still  face  from  the  stern  eye 
of  the  iron  Colonel,  as  he  muttered,  brokenly: 

"My  brave  boy!  if  you  could  but  live  to  know  how 
we  repent  of  having  misjudged  you!" 

And  the  gallant  lad  did  live,  though  the  regimental 
surgeon  had  given  him  up  (which  a  waggish  subaltern 
pronounced  to  be  the  first  step  in  his  recovery),  and  you 
would  find  to-day  in  the  tall,  handsome,  soldierly  Major 
Hackemwell,  with  the  Victoria  Cross  on  his  broad  chest, 
no  trace  of  his  having  once  been  so  near  to  death,  and 
still  nearer  to  the  living  death  of  being  branded  as  a 
coward. 

"Well,  wasn't  I  right?"  cried  Corporal  Phillips,  when 
all  was  over.  "Everyman  has  his  fightin'  days,  and  his 
not-fightin' days;  and  that  was  one  o' the  young  chap's 
fightin'  uns !" 

"  Well,  then,"  said  one  of  his  hearers,  "  I  'ope  my  next 
not-fightin'  day  '11  fall  due  when  there  ain't  nothiii'  goin' 
on ;  and  I  'ope  my  fightin'  day  '11  be  so  kyind  as  'appen  the 
werry  next  time  we  has  a  scrimmage." 


THE     BUILDING     OF    MODERN     WONDERS. 


THE     LOCOMOTIVE. 

BY      FRANKLIN      MATTHEWS. 


A  LTHOUGH  I  have  ridden  repeatedly  on  locomotives 
IX  by  day  and  by  night,  and  have  studied  their  work- 
ings in  a  half-wondering  and  semi-bewildered  way,  and 
although  I  have  read  more  or  less  eagerly  nearly  every- 
thing I  could  find  of  general  interest  about  them,  I  must 
confess  that  until  recently  I  never  knew  that  every  loco- 
motive consists  of  two  distinct  engines.  Splendid  spurls 
of  speed,  the  responsibilities  of  engineers  and  firemen,  for 
whom  I  acknowledge  a  great  admiration  amounting  al- 
most to  bero  worship,  and  the  ever-increasing  mastery 
over  nature  by  men,  as  shown  in  the  work  of  locomotives, 
had  occupied  my  attention,  and  the  mechanical  details  of 
these  superb  machines  had  escaped  me  to  some  extent. 
Of  course,  in  a  general  way,  every  one  knows  something 
about  a  locomotive.  Every  one  knows,  for  example, 
that  there  is  a  fire-box  that 
heats  the  water  in  the  boil- 
er into  steam,  and  that  the 
steam  rushing  into  the 
cylinders  pushes  a  piston- 
rod  back  and  forth,  and 
this  makes  the  wheels  turn, 
and  the  locomotive  go. 
The  exhaust  steam  passes 
up  out  of  the  smoke-stack 
with  the  gases  of  the  fire, 
and  there  you  have  a  loco- 
motive. 

But  how  about  the  two 
engines?  The  fact  is,  there 
is  an  engine  on  each  side 
of  all  locomotives.  The 
wheels  on  one  side  are 
driven  by  one  engine  and 
those  on  the  opposite  side 
by  another.  A  steam-cyl- 
inder, where  the  steam  ac- 
tually does  its  work  by 
pushing  a  piston  back  and 
forth,  or  up  and  down,  is 
what  might  be  called  the 
unit  of  any  engine.  In  a 
certain  sense  it  is  the  en- 
gine. It  is  the  heart  of  the 
machine.  Every  locomo- 
tive has  to  have  a  heart  on 
each  side  in  order  to  make 
the  wheels  of  that  side  go. 
Therefore,  on  every  loco- 
motive there  are  two 

steam  -  cylinders.  They  are  small  round  tanks  just 
back  of  the  cow-catcher,  in  plain  sight  of  everybody. 
Compound  locomotives  have  two  sets  of  cylinders  on 
each  side,  and  like  many  steamships  nowadays  use  the 
steam  twice  before  getting  a  fresh  supply.  These  two 
engines  of  a  locomotive  have  only  one  fire,  and  are  sup- 
plied with  steam  from  one  boiler,  and  are  controlled  by 
one  man  just  as  though  they  were  one  engine,  and  that 
explains  how  I  thought  it  was  all  one  machine. 

The  discovery  that  there  were  two  engines  under  the 
boiler  of  every  locomotive  made  me  curious  to  know 
more  about  locomotives,  and  therefore  I  went  to  Phila- 
delphia a  week  or  two  ago,  where,  right  in  the  heart  of 
the  city,  and  on  their  finest  street,  are  the  largest  locomo- 
tive works  in  the  world.  They  are  the  Baldwin  Works, 
and  they  cover  sixteen  acres,  employ  about  five  thousand 
men,  and  in  busy  times  work  twenty-four  hours  a  day. 
The  men  make  a  locomotive  complete  there,  and  when 
busiest  they  turn  them  out  at  the  rate  of  three  and  one- 


THE    HYDRAULIC    RIVETER. 


third  a  day.  There  are  shops  upon  shops  in  this  big 
plant,  one  devoted  to  this  kind  of  work  and  one  to  that, 
until,  as  you  go  about  the  establishment,  you  get  con- 
fused, and  you  marvel  at  the  system  that  brings  harmony 
out  of  the  confusion.  You  see  furnaces  glowing  and 
roaring,  you  hear  an  incessant  din  from  pounding,  you 
see  the  forges  and  the  foundry  work. 

The  place  where  you  start  and  where  you  finish  your 
inspection  of  this  establishment  is  the  most  interesting. 
It  is  called  the  erecting-shop.  It  is  a  long  rectangular 
building  with  nineteen  tracks  running  across  it,  each 
track  capable  of  holding  four  locomotives.  Here  is  whore 
the  locomotives  are  put  together.  From  one  shop  the 
cylinders  are  brought,  from  another  come  the  boilers, 
from  another  the  wheels,  and  so  on,  and  here  the  whole 

locomotive  is  assembled 
and  made  fit  for  work. 
There  are  certain  standards 
for  locomotives-,  but  for 
every  one  there  has  to  be 
several  hundred  drawings, 
and  to  get  all  the  parts 
made  and  ready  for  the 
erecting-shop  requires  from 
two  to  three  weeks,  as  a 
rule,  although  the  Baldwin 
people  once  did  build  two 
locomotives  for  use  in  Ja- 
pan in  eleven  days. 

Here  in  the  erecting-shop 
you  see  locomotives  in  every 
stage  of  construction.  You 
see  strong  frames  consist- 
ing of  an  upper  and  lower 
bar,  one  for  each  side  of 
the  locomotive,  and  both 
frames  connected  by  strong 
cross-pieces.  These  frames 
consist  of  solid  steel  four 
inches  broad  and  thick,  and 
the  average  weight  of  the 
frame  is  about  6400  pounds. 
You  never  notice  the  frame 
when  you  look  at  a  finished 
locomotive  because  it  is  hid- 
den, but  it  holds  up  the 
boiler  and  fire-box  and  all 
the  rest,  and  it  is  support- 
ed of  course  on  the  wheels. 
While  you  are  standing  in 

the  erecting-shop,  you  look  up,  and  perhaps  with  alarm 
see  an  enormous  boiler  swaying  back  and  forth  in  mid- 
air, and  coming  down  towards  you  with  the  speed  of  a 
shadow  across  a  field.  Tremendous  travelling -cranes 
run  by  electricity,  and  with  big  hooks  hanging  from 
them,  the  ends  of  which  curve  up  like  an  elephant's  trunk 
when  he  throws  a  peanut  into  his  mouth,  pick  up  these 
boilers,and  lift  them  easier  than  ahotel  porter  lifts  a  trunk. 
Great  ropes,  consisting  of  numerous  strands  of  manila 
rope,  and  loosely  covered  by  what  looks  like  bagging,  are 
placed  around  the  object  to  be  lifted,  and  then  a  man 
away  up  near  the  roof  gets  a  signal.  He  pulls  this  and 
pushes  that  lever,  and  the  ropes  tighten,  and  at  last  the 
weight  is  clear  of  the  ground  and  quietly  swinging  in  the 
air  like  a  gymnast  resting  in  his  trapeze  after  a  difficult 
turn.  If  the  boilers  or  locomotives  contained  eggs  hy 
the  thousand  greater  gentleness  in  picking  them  up 
could  not  be  used  than  is  exercised  in  lifting-  them  at  the 
start,  but  the  swooping  way  they  go  across  the  building 


312 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


after  they  get  started  is  quite  terrifying  at  first  to  the 
spectator.  There  are  two  of  these  cranes  in  this  shop, 
and  they  are  always  busy  as  piece  after  piece  of  the  loco- 
motives is  transported  here  and  there.  These  cranes  can 
lift  100  tons  with  ease,  and  they  use  electrical  force  equal 
to  forty  horse-power. 

In  putting  a  locomotive  together,  the  boilers  generally 
are  the  next  to  arrive  after  the  frames  are  set  up.  The 
boilers  are  adjusted  to  their  places,  and  then  come  the 
cylinders,  guides,  wheels,  cabs,  and  the  tenders.  A  boil- 
er, as  nearly  every  one  knows,  consists  of  from  100  to 
200  tubes  of  greater  or  less  length,  each  about  two  inches 
in  diameter,  and  all  encased  in  an  outer  shell.  The  fire 
and  gases  run  through  these  tubes,  and  in  the  spaces 
around  the  tubes  the  water  is  made  into  steam.  The  out- 
side of  the  boiler  is  of  iron,  and  nearly  an  inch  thick.  I 
was  surprised  to  find  workmen  covering  the  boilers  with 
white  pine  wooden  jackets  called  "lagging."  Some  boil- 
ers were  being  covered  with  asbestos. 

My  guide  explained  that  this  served  a  purpose  similar 
to  that  of  a  woollen  garment  next  to  the  skin  which  peo- 
ple wear  in  winter.  "It  keeps  the  heat  in,"he  explained, 
"and  no  locomotive  leaves  the  shops  without  wearing 
what  you  might  call  an  undershirt.  After  this  is  put  on 
the  thin  and  glossed  sheet-iron  covering  is  placed  on  the 
outside.  The  wooden  under-covering  gets  charred  away 
after  a  few  years,  of  course,  and  has  to  be  replaced,  but 
that  or  asbestos  is  necessary  to  keep  the  heat  in  and  to 
use  it  in  making  steam." 

As  you  wander  about  in  this  erecting-shop  you  may 
see  every  part  of  a  locomotive  fitted  into  place.  You 
can  easily  understand  what  all  those  contrivances  inside 
the  cab  are  for.  You  see  that  on  each  side  of  the  cab 
are  "injectors"  or  pumps  for  pumping  water  into  the 
boiler  from  the  tender;  you  see  the  cylinder  and  brake 
lubricators  that  keep  those  parts  covered  with  oil  con- 
stantly; you  see  the  starting  throttle  and  the  reversing 
lever;  you  see  the  steam  and  air  gauges  and  the  valves, 
and  you  begin  to  understand  that  a  locomotive  cab  is 
comparatively  simple  after  all.  As  you  peer  beneath 


EMPTTINi;    MOLTEN    IRON    FROM    A    "LADLE"    INTO    A    MOULD. 


the  boiler  you  will  doubtless  notice  a  large  drum.  That 
is  a  reservoir  for  compressed  air  for  use  in  applying'  the 
l>r:ikes,  and  it  is  supplied  by  pumps  that  may  be  seen  on 
the  outside  of  most  locomotives  just  ahead  of  the  cab  on 
the  boiler.  They  look  like  two-gallon  cans,  made  to 
carry  oil  or  some  other  harmless  thing. 

In  passing  in  front  of  an  unfinished  locomotive  you 
will  notice  that  there  is  a  great  vacant  chamber  di- 
rectly beneath  the  smokestack.  On  close  examination 
you  will  see  two  large  pipes  there,  through  which  the 
steam  rushes  from  the  boiler  to  the  cylinders,  and  you 
will  also  see  that  into  this  compartment  the  fire  and  ex- 
haust steam  are  discharged.  Here  is  where  a  draught  is 
practically  stimulated,  and  where  the  last  combustion 
occurs.  By  means  of  improved  furnaces  and  other  con- 
trivances the  smokestacks  of  locomotives  have  been 
growing  smaller  and  smaller,  and  the  boilers  have  been 
growing  bigger,  so  that  the  locomotives  of  to-day  no 
more  resemble  those  of  twenty  years  ago  than  the  fash- 
ions of  these  times  resemble  those  of  two  decades  ago. 
The  enormous  smokestacks  of  those  days  are  gone. 

Next  to  the  erecting-shops  the  most  interesting  place 
in  a  big  locomotive  works  is  the  foundry.  Here  is  where 
all  the  castings  are  made.  Here  they  turn  out  wheels, 
cylinders,  axles,  and  what  not  by  the  score,  and  the  place 
resounds  with  miniature  explosions  and  is  brilliant  with 
pretty  bursts  of  sparks  as  ladle  after  ladle  of  the  molten 
metal  is  poured  into  the  moulds.  In  the  centre  of  the 
building  are  two  enormous  cranes  that  look  like  railroad 
derricks.  Scattered  about  in  thick  profusion  are  square 
boxes  in  which  the  moulds  are  made.  Over  on  one  side 
of  the  place  are  three  or  four  big  furnaces,  adjacent  to 
the  "scrap"  yard,  where  the  iron  is  stored  before  being 
melted. 

All  is  i.ow  ready  for  a  casting.  One  of  the  big  der- 
ricks swings  a  large  can,  that  looks  about  four  times  as 
large  as  the  iron  ash-cans  which  are  seen  on  sidewalks  in 
cities,  over  to  the  mouth  of  one  of  the  furnaces.  This 
can  will  hold  five  tons  of  molten  metal,  and  is  called  a 
ladle.  The  door  of  the  furnace  is  open,  and  a  bright 

yellow  liquid  that  runs  as 
smoothly  in  the  trough  as 
molasses  in  the  summer- 
time would  run  pours  out 
and  drops  into  the  ladle. 
Gases  remain  inside  the 
mass  in  the  ladle  to  some 
extent,  and  soon  a  work- 
man goes  up  and  pokes 
an  iron  rod  into  it.  In- 
stantly a  swarm  of  lit- 
tle sparks  fly  out  as 
thick  as  a  school  of  mos- 
quitoes travelling  about 
a  swamp.  They  are  more 
like  fire-flies  than  mos- 
quitoes, however,  for 
when  they  get  about  a 
dozen  feet  away  from 
the  ladle  each  glowing 
spark  becomes  a  little 
bomb  and  bursts  into  a 
beautiful  yellow  star. 
The  air  is  full  of  these 
pretty  explosions  at  once, 
and  the  Fourth-of-July 
effect  is  a  delightful  sur- 
prise. Every  one  has 
seen  those  firework  bombs 
which  travel  straight  up 
into  the  air,  and  may 
be  followed  easily  by 
the  dim  light  on  the  end, 


AN    ELECTRIC    TRAVELLING-CRANE    LIFTING    A    LOCOMOTIVE- 


and  winch  finally  burst  into  a  beautiful  group  of 
colored  balls.  The  explosions  in  this  foundry  are 
something  like  that,  only  there  are  a  hundred  bombs 
bursting  at  once.  They  have  no  variety  in  colors,  and 
they  become  stars  instead  of  balls,  but  your  eye  can 
follow  the  dimly  lighted  sparks  as  they  shoot  out  of 
the  molten  metal,  and  when  they  all  spring  into  sun- 
bursts in  the  air  you  are  prepared  to  assert  that  here  is  a 
regiment  of  four  or  five  hundred  men  working  in  this 
place  for  whom  real  Fouth-of-July  fireworks  must  have 
very  little  attraction. 

The  ladle  is  swung  around  to  some  mould,  and  then 
workmen  seize  long  bars  that  project  from  its  sides  and 
tip  the  bucket  and  pour  a  small  stream  into  the  mould.  As 
the  mould  is  filled  a  workman  pokes  a  rod  into  this  mass 
also  to  allow  the  gases  to  escape,  and  the  same  bomb  ex- 
plosions occur  as  when  the  ladle  received  the  metal  from 
the  furnace.  Each  mould  consists  of  an  upper  and  lower 
part,  and  there  are  frequent  openings  to  allow  the  escape 
of  gases  which  otherwise  would  still  remain  in  the  metal. 
These  gases  pour  out  between  the  upper  and  lower  part 


of  the  mould  and  burn  in  a  pretty  blue  light.  There  are 
numerous  explosions  that  sound  like  muffled  pistol  re- 
ports as  the  gases  escape;  and  all  this,  with  the  red- 
shirted  workmen,  and  the  constant  swinging  of  cranes, 
and  the  haze  in  the  place,  make  a  most  attractive  spec- 
tacle. 

One  of  the  things  cast  in  this  shop  interested  me  very 
much — it  was  the  steam-dome.  On  the  top  of  every  loco- 
motive is  one  of  these  domes.  They  are  the  places  into 
which  the  steam  rises  from  the  boilers  and  is  dried  be- 
fore passing  into  the  cylinders. 

These  domes  are  cast  without  the  oval  top  that  caps 
them  when  in  position,  and  when  they  are  inserted  look 
like  an  enormous  grandfather's  hat  with  the  top  out. 
The  rim  of  the  hat  fits  down  over  the  sides  of  the  boiler.-. 
and  as  I  looked  at  several  of  these  castings,  some  glowing 
red  still,  and  some  gray  and  fuzzy,  I  was  back  with  tin- 
last  two  Presidential  campaigns  at  once.  A  dome  like 
this  looked  as  if  some  giant  had  come  in  to  make  a  speech 
to  the  workmen,  and  had  placed  his  hat  crown  down  and 
rim  up  in  the  most  convenient  place.  When  you  look 


314 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


at  a  locomotive  the  next  time  just  imagine  the  steam 
dome  flattened  on  top,  and  then  you  will  see  the  resem- 
blance to  a  big-  hat.  In  the  foundry  I  venture  that  you 
could  think  of  nothing  else  at  first.  On  the  ground  in 
the  foundry  these  domes  look  twice  as  large  as  on  the 
locomotives,  and  their  resemblance  to  the  hat  seemed  the 
more  ludicrous. 

Then  there  are  a  dozen  other  shops  in  the  plant  worth 
seeing.  There  are  two  floors  packed  with  machinery,  and 
called  the  machine  shops;  there  are  the  big  forge  shops, 
where  large  hammers  beat  the  heated  ingots  into  shapes 
for  working  over  in  the  various  parts  of  the  locomotives; 
there  are  the  boiler  shops,  the  wood-working  shops,  and  so 
on.  One  of  the  most  interesting  machines  to  be  seen  in 
any  of  them  is  a  hydraulic  riveter.  The  edges  of  a  boiler 
plate  are  placed  together  and  swung  in  between  the  teeth 
of  this  riveter;  a  man  turns  on  the  water  pressure,  and 
the  big  rivet  that  helps  to  hold  the  lapping  sides  of  the 
boiler  is  driven  down  with  a  furious  and  lasting  force. 

Another  interesting  place  in  the  establishment  is  the 
steam-power  plant  that  operates  it.  There  are  eight  enor- 
mous boilers  there,  and  they  feed  coal  to  themselves. 
One  man  looks  after  all  of  them.  Down  beneath  the 
boilers  is  a  big  coal-room.  An  endless  chain  with  little 
coal  buckets  attached  runs  through  the  place,  and  carries 
the  coal  to  big  hoppers  in  front  of  each  furnace  fire, 
where  it  is  dumped,  and  the  coal  automatically  glides 
inside  of  the  furnace.  It  is  a  great  labor-saving  device. 
The  stoker,  that  picturesque  man  in  all  engine-rooms, 
seems  doomed,  at  least  in  stationary  plants,  and  there  are 
dozens  of  engineers  planning  to  supplant  him  by  ma- 
chinery on  steamships  and  locomotives.  They  have  not 
succeeded  yet,  but  they  are  not  discouraged,  and  some  day 
even  the  locomotive  stoker  may  disappear. 

Thus  in  wandering  about  this  place  we  see  there  are 
two  great  departments.  One  is  where  a  locomotive  is 
put  together,  and  the  other  is  where  it,  or  rather  the 
parts  are  made.  Each  passenger  locomotive  weighs  on 
the  average  about  sixty  tons,  and  the  tender  weighs  about 
thirty  tons.  When  the  locomotive  is  running  it  carries 
about  five  tons  of  water  inside  the  boiler,  which  is  con- 
stantly being  made  into  steam.  The  tender  also  carries 
about  twelve  tons  of  water  when  a  start  is  made,  a  sup- 
ply on  the  average  for  a  smart  run  of  fifty  miles.  The 
average  cost  of  a  locomotive  in  these  times  is  from  68000 
to  $9000.  This  establishment  in  Philadelphia  was  started 
somewhere  about  1830,  and  it  has  built  about  14,000  loco- 
motives. The  largest  output  of  a  single  year  was  in  1890, 
when  946  locomotives  were  built.  From  1883  to  1892  this 
establishment  exported  no  less  than  1356  locomotives. 
These  locomotives  have  gone  to  almost  every  country  of 
the  globe.  You  will  see  them  pulling  trains  from  Jaffa 
to  Jerusalem,  and  you  will  see  them  puffing  about  sugar 
plantations  in  Hawaii.  In  Australia  and  New  Zealand 
they  may  be  found  by  the  score.  On  those  picturesque 
railroads  that  are  beginning  to  abound  in  South  America 
they  are  plentiful.  Every  one  of  these  locomotives  bears 
witness  to  the  great  mechanical  development  and  inge- 
nuity of  the  people  of  the  United  States. 


BENJAMIN    FRANKLIN. 

SOAP  and  candles,  tallow  and  wicks, 
Franklin  was  born  in  seventeen  six. 

In  seventeen  six,  in  Boston  town, 
Was  boru  this  hero  ol  great   ivnowii 

Who  one  day  sent  up  his  kilo  so  high 
It  learned  strange  secrets  from  the  sky. 

If  you  want  to  know  what  the  kite  found  out 
It's  all  in  your  history,  I've  no  doubt. 

ELLA  WHEELER  WILCOX 


THE  AMBUSCADE  ON  CLOVER  HILL. 

BY  WILLIA5I   MURRAY  GRAYDON. 

ON  a  cold  afternoon  in  the  latter  part  of  February  five 
boys — ranging  in  age  from  fourteen  to  sixteen — were 
hard  at  work  in  the  front  yard  of  one  of  the  score  of 
houses  that  composed  the  little  village  of  Ferndale.  The 
task  upon  which  they  were  engaged  was  the  repairing  of 
an  old  bob-sled.  Tom  Curtis  and  Ira  Marsh  were  nailing 
a  long  plank  fast  to  the  two  sections,  while  Dory  Wistar 
and  Jed  Peters  were  fitting  the  steering-wheel  into  place. 
Mert  Eexford,  the  owner  of  the  sled,  was  telling  his  com- 
panions just  how  the  work  ought  to  be  done. 

The  village  street  terminated  at  one  end  on  the  brow 
of  Clover  Hill.  From-  here  a  good  road  ran  straight 
down  to  the  base  of  the  long  hill,  and  then,  after  curving 
to  the  right  for  several  hundred  yards,  it  became  the 
main  thoroughfare  of  the  village  of  Rossinoyne.  The 
distance  between  Ferndale  and  Rossmoyne  was  a  little 
more  than  a  mile,  and  just  now  the  road  was  a  sheet  of 
icy  snow.  It  was  so  slippery  and  dangerous,  in  fact,  that 
no  teams  had  ventured  to  go  up  or  down  the  hill  that 
day.  But  start  a  hob-sled  from  the  top  and  it  would 
whizz  like  a  streak  to  the  valley  below,  and  on  through 
Rossmoyne,  and  perhaps  even  across  the  covered  bridge 
that  spanned  Roaring  Creek. 

It  was  this  way.  From  dim  antiquity  ill  feeling  had 
existed  between  the  boys  of  Rossinoyne  and  Ferndale, 
and  no  one  knew  the  primary  cause  of  the  feud.  Ross- 
moyne being  the  larger  village,  boasted  a  dozen  fighting 
youngsters,  who  were  under  the  acknowledged  leader- 
ship of  Skip  Hutton.  Skip  was  a  quarrelsome,  boastful 
lad,  and  his  chief  ambition  was  to  "punch  Mert  Rex- 
ford's  head  "  a  second  time — for  he  had  already  d'one  so 
once. 

The  occasion  referred  to  was  during  the  last  Christinas 
week,  when  both  parties  ventured  to  use  Clover  Hill  for 
coiisting  one  night.  At  first  all  went  amicably,  and 
mutual  enjoyment  of  the  sport  promised  to  bury  the  an- 
cient feud  in  its  grave.  But  an  unfortunate  collision  led 
to  hot  words  and  a  fight,  and  Mert  and  his  companions, 
outnumbered  two  to  one,  reluctantly  left  the  enemy  in 
possession  of  the  field. 

Since  then  the  Ferndale  boys  had  prudently  betaken 
themselves  to  the  smaller  hill  behind  the  village,  while 
Skip  Hutton  and  his  unruly  crowd  used  the  lower  portion 
of  Clover  Hill.  At  a  point  half-way  down  the  grade  was 
almost  level  for  a  hundred  feet  or  so,  and  here  they  would 
start  their  coasting-trips.  In  spite  of  their  superior  num- 
bers they  did  not  venture  to  the  summit  of  the  hill.  Per- 
haps they  feared  that  Mert  would  recruit  additional  forces 
from  the  grown-up  population  of  the  village,  and  so  gain 
a  victory. 

Just  now  Mert  and  his  companions  were  not  giving  a 
thought  to  the  feud  as  they  tinkered  away  at  the  old  bob- 
sled. It  was  after  four  o'clock  when  the  last  nail  was 
driven,  and  as  they  stood  looking  at  their  handiwork  a 
cheery  voice  hailed  them  from  the  sidewalk.  They 
turned  around  to  see  Dory  Wistar's  uncle.  Simon  Garri- 
son, leaning  on  the  gate.  He  was  a  plump,  jolly-faced 
old  man.  with  cheeks  as  red  as  winter  apples.  He  lived 
down  in  Rossmo\Tne,  where  he  owned  a  flour-mill  on  the 
bank  of  the  creek. 

"  Hello,  Uncle  Simon !"  cried  Dory.  "  You  didn't  drive 
up  Clover  Hill  a  day  like  this?" 

The  miller  laughed,  and  shook  his  head.  "I  walked 
up  on  business,  and  I  reckon  I'll  go  down  the  same 
way.  I've  got  something  to  tell  you  fellows,"  he  went 
on,  in  a  confidential  tone.  "There's  great  doings  down 
in  our  town  to-night.  'Ain't  you  heard  about  it?  The 
Rossmoyne  Lyceum  is  giving  an  entertainment  in  the 
school -house  to  raise  money  for  books.  It  begins  at 
seven  o'clock,  an'  they're  going  to  have  tableaux,  an' 


MARCH  5,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


315 


wax-figgers,  an'  a  guitar— no,  a  bazar,  that's  it— an'  then 
they'll  wind  up  with  oyster  stews  and  ice-cream.  What 
do  you  think  of  that?" 

He  paused  for  breath,  and  his  hearers  looked  eager  and 
hungry.  They  also  looked  angry  and  resentful.  It  was 
not  pleasant  to  be  told  about  so  tantalizing  and  impossble 
a  feast.  "Ferndale  can  have  one  of  those  things  any 
time  it  wants  to,"  Mert  said,  defiantly. 

"I  dare  say,1' replied  Uncle  Simon;  "but  I  reckon  it 
ain't  having  one  to-night.  Now  I'll  tell  you  chaps  what 
to  do.  After  supper  get  on  your  bob-sled— the  hull  pack 
of  you — and  coast  down  to  the  school-house.  I'll  pay 
your  way  in,  and  buy  each  of  you  a  dish  of  oysters  and 
ice  cream.  You  see,  I've  got  to  help  that  Lyceum  along 
somehow,  and  this  is  just  a  prime  way  to  do  it." 

The  five  boys  uttered  five  shouts  of  delight,  and  then 
they  all  looked  very  sober.  "It  ain't  worth  the  ice- 
cream and  oysters  to  get  our  heads  punched,"  growled 
Mert. 

"  Or  to  have  the  bob-sled  all  busted,"  added  Ira  Marsh. 

"That's  so,"  exclaimed  Dory.  "How  about  Skip 
Button's  gang,  Uncle  Simon?  They'll  steal  the  sled,  an' 
then  lay  for  us  when  we  start  home.  Wouldn't  they 
just  like  the  chance!" 

"I'll  fix  'em  if  they  do,"  declared  the  miller,  in  fierce 
tones,  as  he  shook  his  two  fists.  "They  sha'n't  one  of 
them  skate  on  my  mill-dam  next  summer  or  swim  in  it  this 
winter.  They  couldn't  well  do  that,  anyway,"  he  added, 
as  the  boys  began  to  laugh;  "but  you  know  what  I  me.ai, 
you  young  scallywags.  Honest,  now.  I'll  see  that  you 
ain't  molested.  You  can  put  the  sled  in  the  hall  of  the 
school-bouse,  an'  when  you  start  home  I'll  go  part  way 
up  the  hill  with  you.  How's  that?" 

"  It's  a  bargain,"  cried  Dory.      "We'll  try  to  come." 

"We'll  come  for  sure,"  added  Mert.  rashly  vouching 
for  his  followers.  "Look  out  for  us." 

"I'll  be  waiting  at  the  school-house  door,"  said  Uncle 
Simon.  "Be  sure  to  start  at  seven  o'clock,  and  then  I'll 
know  just  when  to  expect  you.  I  must  be  off'  now,  for 
it's  getting  late.  Don't  go  back  on  me,  lads.  Those 
oysters  and  ice-cream  will  be  prime." 

Just  about  that  time  a  lanky  youth  of  seventeen,  with 
red  hair  and  furtive,  sneaking  eyes,  crept  out  of  the  cellar 
of  the  village  grocery-store,  which  adjoined  Mert's  yard. 
Tony  Peck  belonged  in  Eossmoyne,  but  he  had  been  in 
the  grocer's  employ  for  a  year  past. 

"Won't  I  fix  them  stuck-up  fellows!"  he  muttered  to 
himself,  as  he  banded  a  pail  of  molasses  to  an  impatient 
customer.  "They  don't  know  I  heard  'em  talking,  an' 
they  don't  know  I'm  going  down  to  that  festival  myself. 
I'll  start  at  five  o'clock,  an'  that'll  give  me  plenty  of  time 
to  see  Skip  Hutton  an'  the  crowd." 

Tony  was  not  popular  with  the  boys  of  Ferndale,  and  Jt 
did  not  occur  to  Mert  and  his  friends  to  invite  him  to  ride 
down  with  them.  They  certainly  did  not  know  that  he 
had  preceded  them  to  Rossmoyne  by  two  hours,  when 
they  reached  the  top  of  Clover  Hill  at  five  minutes  of 
seven  ;  had  they  been  aware  of  the  fact  they  might  have 
felt  less  jubilant. 

The  boys  eagerly  scrambled  for  their  places,  Mert  tak- 
ing the  tiller,  and  Dory  Wistar  perching  himself  on  the 
end  seat.  "Here  goes !"  he  shouted,  and  with  his  feet  he 
pushed  the  sled  over  the  brow  of  the  hill.  There  were 
a  grinding  jar,  a  swift  rush,  and  the  cruise  was  fairly 
begun.  Faster  and  faster  the  merry  party  went  whizzing 
through  the  frosty  air.  Fine  particles  of  ice  flew  up  and 
stung  their  cheeks,  and  the  snow-banks  to  right  and  left 
shot  by  like  blurred  white  streaks.  Overhead  the  stars 
were  shining  in  a  steel-blue  sky,  and  straight  away  in 
front  the  frozen  slope  glistened  until  it  was  lost  to  view 
around  the  curve  that  led  to  the  twinkling  lights  of 
Rossmoyne.  It  seemed  no  time  at  all  until  the  bob- 
sled was  a  third  of  the  way  down,  and  now  it  darted  be- 


tween the  stunted  pine-trees  that  lined  this  part  of  the 
road  on  both  sides.  Whiz!  a  hard  snowball  carried  off 
Mert's  cap,  and  another  struck  him  on  the  arm.  Whiz! 
one  grazed  Ira  Marsh's  nose,  and  one  thumped  Jed 
Peters  on  the  back  of  the  neck.  Now  the  balls  came 
thick  and  fast  from  both  sides,  accompanied  by  peals  of 
mocking  laughter.  Here  and  there  a  head  peeping  from 
the  shadow  of  the  pines  told  of  the  enemy's  cunningly 
planned  ambuscade. 

"Stoop  low!"  yelled  Mert,  as  he  hugged  the  tiller 
tight;  "we'll  soon  be  past." 

His  companions  ducked  their  heads,  but  still  the  balls 
pelted  them  mercilessly.  Then  came  a  brief  lull  as  the 
sled  shot  on  toward  the  short  stretch  of  level  grade,  and 
when  the  boys  looked  up,  hoping  the  worst  was  over, 
they  made  an  unexpected  discovery.  About  sixty  yards 
ahead,  at  the  farther  end  of  the  level,  the  road  was 
completely  blocked  by  a  barricade  of  interwoven  fence 
rails.  It  flashed  upon  Mert  instantly  that  it  was  im- 
possible to  go  through  this  without  injury,  and  equally 
so  to  stop  the  sled  at  such  short  range.  Before  he 
could  make  up  his  mind  what  to  do  a  lad  jumped  out 
of  the  pine  thicket  to  the  left,  about  fifty  feet  down  the 
road,  and  posted  himself  on  the  edge  of  the  low  snow- 
bank. The  bright  starlight  revealed  the  chunky  figure 
of  Skip  Hutton  himself,  and  showed  that  he  had  one  arm 
full  of  snowballs.  As  the  sled  whizzed  nearer  he  let  one 
of  the  missiles  drive.  It  struck  Mert  on  the  breast,  but 
the  act  of  throwing  overbalanced  Skip,  and  he  tumbled 
down  into  the  roadway,  directly  in  the  path  of  the  flying 
sled.  Mert  and  his  companions  uttered  cries  of  horror 
and  warning,  but  they  did  no  good.  There  was  not  even 
time  to  swerve  the  sled  to  one  side,  and  just  as  Skip 
gained  his  feet  he  was  struck  and  pitched  into  the  air. 
The  collision  tossed  him  backward,  and  he  came  down 
squarely  between  Jed  Peters  and  Ira  Marsh,  who  had  the 
middle  seats.  Quick  as  a  flash  they  grabbed  him,  and 
hauled  him  to  an  upright  position  on  the  plank.  He 
struggled  a  little  and  howled  with  fright;  from  the  way 
his  legs  squirmed  he  was  evidently  not  hurt.  Mert 
glanced  over  his  shoulder  and  saw  what  had  happened. 

"Hurrah  !  we've  got  a  prisoner,"  he  shouted.  "Hold 
him  tight,  bnvs.  I'm  going  to  show  you  something  now; 
just  watch." 

How  Mert  intended  to  avert  a  catastrophe  was  quickly 
seen.  To  the  right  of  the  level  grade — now  almost  reached 
— there  were  no  pine-trees,  and  the  fence  had  been  torn 
away  to  construct  the  barricade.  A  low  bank  of  snow 
was  the  only  obstacle  between  the  road  and  the  open 
field.  No  sooner  did  the  front  runners  touch  the  level 
than  he  swung  the  tiller  a  little  to  .the  right.  The  sled, 
going  at -a  terrific  speed,  veered  at  an  angle  out  of  the 
centre  of  the  roadway,  and  just  when  it  seemed  on  the 
point  of  plunging  into  the  barrier  of  fence  rails,  it  struck 
the  low  bank  and  rode  over  it.  Then  on  it  went  with  a 
roar,  fairly  flying  across  the. hard  glassy  snow-crust  of 
the  open  field. 

.  "Where  are  you  going.  Mert?"  Dory  shouted  at  him. 
"You  know  the  hill  ends  in  a  big  drop  down  below,  and 
we'll  either  smash  into  a  tree  or  a  house." 

"  I  know,"  Mert  yelled  back.  "  I'm  going  to  clear  the 
village,  and  strike  for  the  open  road  along  the  creek. 
I'm  pretty  sure  I  can  turn  into  it  without  running  out 
on  the  ice.  Stick  tight,  you  fellows,  and  keep  your  feet 
up." 

"We'll  be  drowned,"  cried  Skip  Hutton.  "Let  me 
off,  let  me  off." 

He  began  to  struggle,  but  Jed  only  held  him  the  tighter. 
"Hold  still,"  he  shouted.  "If  you  tumble  off  here 
you'll  break  your  neck." 

"I  won't,"  snarled  Skip.  But  nevertheless  he  calmed 
down. 

By  this  time  the  sled  was  nearly  out  of  the  track  of 


THE    SLED    GOING    AT    TERRIFIC    SPEED    VEERED    OUT    OF   THE   ROADWAi". 


the  steep  and  timbered  base  of  the  hill,  beneath  which 
lay  Rossmoyiie.  Straight  ahead  the  snow-crust  sloped 
away  to  the  road  that  bordered  the  frozen  surface  of 
Roaring  Creek.  The  thrilling  ride  was  almost  over,  and 
the  boys  began  to  cheer  and  laugh. 

But  when  the  edge  of  the  road  was  only  a  dozen  yards 
off,  and  just  as  Mert  was  making  ready  to  twist  the  tiller, 
something-  unexpected  happened.  The  sled  glided  into 
the  unseen  hollow  of  a  frozen  rivulet,  and  gathered  fresh 
speed  from  the  patches  of  slippery  ice.  Before  the  dazed 
boys  could  realize  their  peril  they  whizzed  at  right  angles 
across  the  road  and  shot  out  upon  the  creek. 

Dory  and  Tom.  remembering  that  a  neighboring  spring 
made  the  ice  at  all  times  perilous  hereabouts,  threw  them- 
selves off  in  safety.  The  sled  dashed  on  with  the  others, 
and  was  nearly  to  the  opposite  bank  of  the  creek,  when 
it  capsized  on  a  ridge  of  hard  snow.  A  big  air-hole 
yawned  just  below.  Ira  and  Jed  barely  escaped  slipping 
into  it,  but  Mert  and  Skip  were  less  fortunate,  -and  both 
vanished  under  the  black  waters. 

An.  instant  later  they  came  to  the  top  several  yards 
apart.  Mert  had  his  wits  about  him,  and  struck  out  for 
the  upper  edge  of  the  ice.  But  Skip  seemed  to  be  help- 
less; he  threw  up  his  arms  and  called  shrilly  for  aid. 
Hearing  the  cry,  Mert  turned  around  and  swam  back. 
He  caught  hold  of  his  old  enemy,  and  after  a  fierce 
struggle  succeeded  in  getting  him  to  the  edge  of  the 
ice.  There  they  both  clung,  too  weak  to  climb  out,  and 
in  momentary  peril  of  losing  their  hold. 

But  just  in  time  the  other  boys  reached  the  spot,  and 
the  two  lads  were  rescued  with  some  difficulty  from  their 
dangerous  plight.  Attracted  by  the  outcry,  a  number  of 
villagers  arrived  on  the  scene.  Uncle  Simon  among  the 
number.  He  took  charge  of  Mert  and  his  companions, 
while  Skip  Hutton  was  hurried  home  by  his  friends. 

After  being  well  rubbed  down  in  front  of  Uncle  Si- 
mon's hot  stove,  and  putting  on  a  change  of  clothing  that 
belonged  to  the  miller's  son,  Mert  insisted  upon  going 
to  the  entertainment.  The  end  of  it  was  that  the  boys 
went,  and  after  they  had  enjoyed  themselves  thoroughly, 


and  eaten  heaps  of  oysters  and  ice-cream,  they  came  out- 
side, to  find  Skip  Hutton  and  his  crowd  waiting  for  them. 

But  it  was  not  with  hostije  intentions — quite  the  con- 
trary, in  fact.  Skip  shook  hands  with  Mert,  and  there 
were  cheering  and  hand-shaking  all  round,  and  theRoss- 
moyne  boys  went  half-way  up  the  hill  with  their  old  en- 
emies, where  they  parted,  the  best  of  friends. 

So  that  was  the  end  of  the  great  feud,  and  it  is  not 
likely  to  ever  arise  from  the  grave  which  Mert's  heroism 
dug  for  it. 


W 


THE  ESCAPE   OF   THREE   GIRLS. 

BY  ANNIE  HAMILTON  DONNELL. 

HOA  !     Now  what  shall  we  do,  my  friends?" 

Peggy  Hildreth  drew  the  reins  over  one  arm, 
rested  both  elbows  on  her  knees  and  her  round  chin  in 
the  hollow  of  her  hands.  It  was  hardly  a  driver's  ordi- 
nary pose. 

"'Well?" 

"Well?" 

The  latter  queries  came  in  chorus  from  the  back  seat. 
Then  there  was  another  silence,  broken  melodiously  by 
the  long  sweet  trill  of  a  tiny  bird  tilting  on  a  twig  by  the 
roadside.  The  sun  had  quite  disappeared  over  the  hori- 
zon, and  the  red  glow  in  his  wake  was  fast  disappearing 
too.  Peggy  shivered  a  little,  and  sunk  her  neck  deeper 
into  her  shoulders. 

"Hush!"  she  said,  lifting  a  finger  to  the  trilling  bird; 
"  I  want  to  talk  now.  You  go  home  to  your  wife  and  the 
babies.  You're  not  lost.  Now,  girls,  what's  to  be  done 
next?  Here  are  three  roads  to  choose  from.  Which?" 

Margie  Russell  looked  at  Puss  Perry,  and  Puss  looked 
at  her. 

"Left,"  Puss  said. 

"Right,"  Margie  murmured. 

Peggy  laughed  and  unposed  her  elbows.  "Then  here 
goes  for  the  other  one!  Get  up,  Dollikins!" 

With  a  jerk  Dollikins  woke  up  and  launched  out  into 


MAKC1I  5,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


317 


a  gentle  amble,  obeying  Peggy's  twitch  that  turned  her 
into  the  middle  one  of  the  three  roads. 

"We're  in  for  it  uo\v,  whatever  it  is,"  Margie  sighed, 
settling  back  on  the  seat,  and  folding  her  little  gloved 
hands  resignedly. 

"I  don't  see  how  we  missed  the  way,"  said  Peggy, 
over  her  shoulder.  "I'm  sure  we  turned  all  the  left- 
hand  corners  till  we  got  to  the  blacksmith's  shop." 

"A  blacksmith's  shop,  you  know,"  Puss  remarked. 
mildly. 

"No,  the  blacksmith's  shop;  for  the  bellows-man  had 
on  a  red  flannel  shirt,  and  squinted,  just  as  Helen  said 
he  would." 

"Must  have  squinted  hard,  right  through  his  back 
hair,"  Puss  murmured. 

"  Well,  anyhow,  we're  in  for  it!"  Margie  said.  "  Let's 
call  it  a  real  spree  and  be  jolly." 

"  But  it's  miles  and  miles  back  home,  and  they'd  never 
let  us  try  it  again  after  we'd  made  such  a  mess  of  it  this 
time.  And  Helen  wants  us  to  come  awfully." 

"  And  we  want  to  go  awfully." 

"  Well,  we  will  go.     Who's  afraid?" 

"But  where  '11  we  stay  all  night,  Margie  Russell? — 
that's  what  interests  me.  I'm  going  to  be  sleepy  in  just 
three-quarters  of  an  hour." 

"  Oh,  we'll  stop  at  the  first  good-looking  house.  We'll 
tell  'em  your  father's  a  judge,  and  Peg's  mother  is  the 
prettiest  woman  in  the  county." 

"Don't;  you  make  me  homesick,"  groaned  Peggy. 
"Get  up,  DolliUins!" 

Twilight  had  shifted  to  night.  Dolli- 
kins  jogged  patiently  along,  in  grim  obedi- 
ence to  Peggy's  gentle  twitches  and  admo- 
nitions. Not  a  house  loomed  up  beside 
them.  The  girls  joked  and  told  stories,  but 
the  merriment  grew  uneasy  and  hysterical. 
Tlieir  little  "surprise  party  "  had  turned 
out  rather  too  surprising.  But  there  was 
one  good  thing,  Margie  insisted  :  Helen 
wouldn't  look  for  them  without  any  warn- 
ing, and  the  home  folks  wouldn't  dream  of 
worrying,  for  they  would  know  they  were 
safe  at  Helen's. 

Peggy  and  Puss  sniffed. 

"  For  my  humble  part,"  Puss  murmured, 
dismally,  "  I'd  rather  enjoy  being  worried 
over  a  little." 

"  Wait!"  cried  Margie.      "  I  see  a  light!" 

"Two  lights!" 

"Three  lights!" 

"Dollikins,  we're  saved!" 

A  big  house  set  about  with  great  trees 
sprang  up  suddenly  beside  them.  Several 
feeble  lights  blinked  in  as  many  windows. 

"  Looks  like  a  barracks,"  Peggy  whisper- 
ed, pulling  on  the  reins. 

"  Or  an  insane  asylum,"  Margie  said,  du- 
biously. 

"  Well,  it's  a  house,  anyway.  Come  on  : 
we're  in  for  it." 

They  felt  their  way  up  the  stubbly  path, 
and  knocked  gently  at  the  front  door.  The 
little  knock  gathered  terrible  energy,  rever- 
berating and  echoing  in  their  startled  ears. 
But  it  produced  no  effect  upon  the  inmates. 

"Doit  again,  Peggy,"  Puss  whispered, 
shivering  nervously. 

The  third  summons  brought  a  heavy 
footstep  along  the  hall.  Then  the  door 
opened  cautiously, and  an  old  woman  peered 
out,  holding  her  lamp  above  her  head. 

"For  the  laud's  sake,  who  be  ye?"  she 
ejaculated. 


Peggy  responded  to  the  pokes  of  the  other  girls,  and 
stood  bravely  forward,  explaining  their  predicament 
politely. 

"Land,  yes,"  the  old  woman  said,  smiling  toothless 
encouragement,  and  opening  the  door  wide.  "You  come 
right  in.  My  man  '11  see  to  the  beast.  I'll  git  ye  a  bite 
an'  give  ye  a  bed  as  well's  not.  The  rest  has  had  supper, 
but  it  won't  put  rne  out  none  to  speak  of.  There's  cold 
b'iled  pork  an'  greens  aplenty,  an'  a  hunk  o'  suet  puddin" 
left.  You  relish  suet  puddin',  miss?" 

She  stopped,  and  peered  into  Margie's  face  good-natured- 
ly. The  lamp  flickered  dimly,  and  threw  pale  distorted 
shadows  on  the  wall. 

"What  in —  Oh  yes'm,  thank  you,"  stammered  Mar- 
gie. The  little  procession  moved  on. 

"  Why,  Margie  Russell,  I  don't  believe  you  know  what 
suet  pudding  is,"  whispered  Peggy,  hysterically. 

"  What  did  she  say?  I  was  too  scared  to  hear,"  Margie 
whispered  back,  catching  tight  hold  of  Peggy's  warm 
hand. 

The  long  hall  came  to  an  end  at  last  in  a  big  bare 
room  with  a  table  and  two  or  three  chairs  scattered  around 
it.  Another  feeble  lamp  spluttered  on  the  table  and  a 
feebler  fire  in  an  open  grate.  Several  shabby -looking 
men  sat  before  the  fire  smoking  pipes,  and  one  old  woman 
nodded  over  her  knitting-work  among  them.  When  the 
hostess  and  her  guests  appeared,  everybody  got  up,  and, 
after  a  curious  stare,  shuffled  out  of  the  room.  The  girls 
heard  their  stumbling  steps  echoing  up  the  stairs  and 
along  the  loose  floor  overhead. 


IN    A    MOMENT   THEY    WEUE   ALL    OUTSIDE    THE    HOUSE. 


318 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME    XVI. 


"I'm  Mis'  Wickett,"  the  hostess  said,  sociably,  putting 
down  the  lamp  and  waving  her  hand  with  a  gesture  of 
hospitality  toward  the  vacant  chairs.  "Set  down,  do. 
I'll  go  tell  John  to  mind  your  hoss.  He's  gone  to  bed,  I 
reckon,  but  I  can  roust  him  up.  John's  a  dretful  good- 
natered  man  about  bein'  rousted,  an'  he  won't  never  let 
any  o'  them,"  nodding  upward,  "go  anigh  the  barn 
nights."  At  the  door  she  turned  back.  "This  is  our 
place— hisn  an'  mine.  Them's  boarders,  so  to  speak." 
She  laughed  with  mysterious,  toothless  mirth. 

"Well?" 

"Well?" 

"Well?" 

That  was  the  extent  of  the  conversation  between  the 
girls  till  the  old  woman  bustled  back.  They  sat  stiffly 
upright  on  the  edges  of  their  chairs.  Puss  giggled  feebly 
and  incessantly.  The  others  looked  into  the  smouldering 
coals  and  listened  to  the  loud,  querulous  tick-tocking  of 
the  great  clock  on  the  mantel  over  them. 

The  greens  and  "b'iled  pork"  and  the  suet  pudding 
were  hardly  touched,  though  the  girls  made  sundry  he- 
roic attempts  to  eat  a  few  unsavory  mouthfuls. 

"  We  had  our  dinners  late,"  Peggy  explained,  politely. 

"Very  late,  and  we  ate  a  good  deal,  ma'am,"  echoed 
Puss. 

"Well,  I  shouldn't  say  t'  you  was  real  famishin'. 
That  pork's  our  own  killin',  an'  extry  fat  an'  nourishin'." 

Margie  rose  quietly.  "Can  we  go  to  bed  now,  if  you 
please?  We're  tired,  and  must  get  up  early  to  go  to  our 
friend's." 

"For  the  land's  sake,  yes;  you  do  look  kinder  peaked 
an'  wore  out.  "You'll  have  to  sleep  in  one  bed,  but  it's 
good  an'  wide.  An'  you  mustn't  mind  any  noises  nor 
nothin'.  Some  o'  them  snores  an'  threshes  round  a  good 
deal,  an'  the  partitions  is  thin." 

Thev  went  up  the  creaking  stairs,  and  were  ushered 
into  a  small  room  with  one  bed  and  a  chair  in  it.  That 
was  all,  except  dust  and  dreariness  and  the  glimmer  of  a 
pale  star  in  at  the  little  window. 

The  door  closed  behind  the  old  woman,  and  the  three 
girls  sank  limply  down  on  the  bed  in  a  row. 
,  Peggy  was  looking  hard  at  the  smoky  little  lamp.     "It 
won't  last  more  than  ten'minutes  longer,"  she  whispered, 
anxiously. 

Margie  was  looking  at  the  smoky  walls  all  around 
them.  "  Oh,  girls,"  she  groaned,  softly,  "  they  don't  go 
'way  up  at  all !  It's  just  like  camp-meeting  houses!" 

Two-thirds  of  the  way  up  to  the  ceiling,  to  be  sure,  the 
walls  suddenly  ended  and  gave  dark  glimpses  into  mys- 
terious rooms  beyond. 

Puss  giggled  under  her  breath.  "It's  sort  of  funny, 
isn't  it?"  she  murmured. 

"Funny!"  Peggy  turned  on  her  with  a  withering 
glare,  but  just  then  the  lamp  went  out. 

In  silence  the  three  girls  took  off  their  hats  and  jack- 
ets, and  lay  down  in  a  huddling,  disconsolate  row  on  the 
uninviting  bed.  The  lamp's  unkempt  wick  sent  up  a  lit- 
tle curl  of  vile  smoke,  filling  the  room  with  unbearable 
odor. 

Margie  sprang  up  and  pried  open  the  window.  "  What'll 
I  put  under  it?"  she  whispered. 

"The  lamp,"  Peggy  suggested,  promptly. 

"No,  it's  going  to  stay  itself;  but  I'll  set  the  lamp  on 
the  sill  to  air— that's  a  bright  idea,  Peggy."  And  Margie 
crept  cautiously  toward  the  centre  of  the  vile  smell. 
After  a  minute  she  was  back  beside  Puss,  and  again 
there  was  silence  in  the  room.  In  a  marsh  behind  the 
house  a  company  of  frogs  were  holding  high  carnival, 
and  their  hoarse  voices  joined  with  the  faint,  mournful 
cry  of  a  whippoorwill  in  a  discordant  irony  of  melody. 

Beyond  the  partitions  on  either  side  of  the  room  were 
occasionally  heard  the  squeakings  of  beds  and  uneasy 
breathing  of  mysterious  neighbors.  But  despite  their 


dismal  surroundings  three  pairs  of  eyes  closed  after 
a  while  in  healthy,  girlish  sleep,  though  their  respective 
owners  asserted  next  day,  in  all  due  honesty,  that  they 
only  got  a  "wink  of  sleep"  in  the  midst  of  hours  of 
waking.  Before  the  east  was  fairly  touched  with  faint, 
lines  of  light  Peggy  opened  her  eyes  with  a  start.  The 
window  had  suddenly  shut  with  a  thud,  and  there  was  a 
muffled  crash  of  glass  on  the  ground  beneath  it.  Peggy 
lifted  herself  on  an  elbow,  and  tried  to  think  where  she 
was.  Puss  stirred  and  threw  her  soft  warm  fingers  across 
Peggy's  cheek. 

"  Oh,  yes,  of  course,  I'm  here,''  she  thought.  Then  she 
became  aware  of  low  voices  communing  uncouthly  be- 
yond the  partition  at  her  head.  She  listened  uneasily. 

"Git  up,  Bill,  will  yer?  Ain't  ye  got  no  sense  in  ye 
nohow?"  . 

"  Lemme  alone!" 

"  Git  up,  I  tell  ye!  Me  'n'  you's  got  a  job  o'  killin'  to 
do  'fore  them  young  critters  gits  woke  up  enough  to 
squeal." 

The  bed  creaked  and  groaned  with  Bill's  weight.  He 
was  evidently  getting  up. 

"Consarn  'em!"  he  grunted  sleepily.  "How  many 
be  there,  Pete?" 

"Three, "the  first  voice  said.  "An'  they're  as  purty 
'n.'  slick  as  I  ever  see." 

Peggy  dropped  softly  back  on  the  pillow,  and  covered 
her  ears.  A  horrible  suspicion  took  possession  of  her. 
She  knew  now  what  dreadful  sort  of  a  place  they  were 
in— shut  up  in  a  trap  and  going  to  be  killed  in  a  few  min- 
utes. The  little  bare  room  was  filling  with  a  pale  golden 
light;  there  wasn't  a  minute  to  lose.  She  was  glad  they 
had  bolted  the  door  when  they  went  to  bed,  but  she  was 
suspicious  of  the  strength  of  the  wooden  bolt,  and  got 
up  stealthily  to  examine  it.  Puss  opened  her  eyes  and 
watched  her  coming  back  across  the  floor. 

"  Oh,  dear!"  she  said;  "  I  thought  I  was  at  home,  and 
not  in  this  old  dungeon!" 

Peggy  put  her  hand  over  her  mouth  frantically. 
"Oh,  hush,  hush!"  she  whispered.  "Get  up  quick. 
They're  going  to  murder  us  right  off.  We  must  do 
something." 

Puss  sprang  softly  to  her  feet.  Her  pretty  hair  was  in 
a  whirl  of  tangles,  and  made  a  wild  halo  around  her 
frightened  face.  "  Peggy  Hildreth,  tell  me  this  minute!" 
she  whispered,  shaking-  her  violently. 

The  terrible  news  was  soon  told,  and  Margie  awakened 
and  warned  of  its  import.  Then  the  three  girls  sat  on  the 
bed  and  looked  their  fate  firmly  in  the  face. 

"Let's  holler  awfully,"  Puss  whispered,  preparing  to 
do  it. 

"Oh,  no,  «o.'"  Peggy  cried,  in  a  terrified  whisper  that 
woke  uncanny,  hissing  echoes  in  the  rafters  overhead. 
"  We  must  keep  perfectly  still,  and  get  away  before  they 
come  back  with  their  knives  and  guns  and  things."  She 
ran  to  the  window  and  peered  out.  The  pieces  of  the 
broken  lamp  faintly  glistened  a  short  distance  below.  As 
the  house  was  built  on  a  sharp  inc'ine,  there  was  really 
but  one  story  in  the  rear,  and  the  window  out  of  which 
she  looked  was  but  a  few  feet  above  the  ground.  The 
barn  and  out-houses  were  on  the  other  side  of  the  house, 
and  a  big  marshy  field  stretched  out  before  her.  There 
was  no  sign  of  life  visible. 

"  Girls,  come  here!"  she  called,  softly.  "  I'm  going  to 
jump,  and  you  must  follow  quick.  It's  only  a  little  way, 
and  nobody's  'round.  Then  we'll  run  for  dear  life  across 
that  field  till  we  find  a  road  somewhere." 

"But  Dollikins  and  the  carriage?"  whispered  Margie, 
her  teeth  chattering  and  her  face  white. 

Pesrgy  groaned  under  her  breath,  "Dear  old  Dollikins! 
But  it's  no  use;  we  must  do  it;"  and  with  a  light  spring 
she  landed  on  the  grass.  In  a  moment  they  were  all 
outside  of  the  house.  Away  they  all  new  across  the  field, 


MARCH  5,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


319 


their  feet  making  a  queer  "  clusli !  clnsh  !"  in  the  soggy 
ground,  and  their  hearts  beating  violently.      Out  of  sight 
of  the  house,  in  a  clump  of  maples,  they  stopped  for  breath. 
"Now,  what?"  panted  Peggy. 

"  Now  for  home,  somehow  and  somewhere,"  Puss  said, 
decidedly.  "  I'm  going  home  to  tell  my  father  about  that 
gang  of  murderers,  and  he'll  have  them  arrested  and  sent 
to  Sing  Sing  right  away.'1 

"  Of  course,"  assented  Peggy,  eagerly.  "  And  he'll  get 
my  Dollikius  for  me.  He's  a  judge,  and  will  know  just 
how  to  fix  'em — the  wicked  men!" 

The  road  chanced  fortunately  to  be  near  at  hand,  and  a 
few  inquiries  set  their  faces  in  the  direction  of  home.  It 
was  a  long,  tedious  distance,  and  they  were  all  faint  and 
worn  out  when  at  last  they  caught  the  welcome  glimpse 
of  the  red  roof  of  Puss's  barn  and  the  curling  line  of  pale 
smoke  over  the  house.  It  was  a  glad  sight  indeed  to 
three  excited,  flushed,  hungry  girls. 

Margie  began  to  cry.  "I'm  so  happy  I  don't  know 
what  to  do,"  she  sobbed. 

Puss  giggled,  in  spite  of  herself.  "You  look  radiant !" 
she  cried,  putting-  her  arms  around  poor  Margie  and  help- 
ing her  on.  "There's  papa  at  the  library  window  reading 
the  morning  Telegram.  Now  he'll  start  right  oft7,  and  I 
guess  those  wretches  will  be  in  the  lock-up  before  dinner!" 
The  Judge  looked  over  his  glasses  in  astonishment 
when,  a  minute  later,  the  three  runaways  stood  in  a  row 
before  him,  all  of  them  talking  at  once,  and  telling  some 
horrible,  confused  story  whose  facts  stumbled  and  tripped 
over  each  other  in  a  hopeless  tangle.  He  held  up  his 
hands  for  silence. 

"Wait!"  he  said,  smiling  rather  anxiously.  "Run 
out  and  let  mother  give  you  a  cup  of  coffee  and  some 
nourishment.  Then  come  back  and  we'll  straighten 
things  out  a  bit.  Scamper!" 

It  was  good  advice.     No  steaming  cups  of  coffee  ever 
sent  forth  a  more  fragrant  comforting  perfume,  and  never 
did  muffins  and  chops  taste  better.      The  tired  girls  ate 
in   restful   silence,  and  sat  back  when  their  plates   were 
empty  with  three  long  sighs  of  relief  and  satisfaction. 
"  I  think  I'm  going  to  sleep,"  Peggy  said,  lazily. 
"It's  a  lovely  feeling," murmured  Margie,  closing  her 
eyes. 

But  Puss  bustled  them  off  into  the  library.  Slowly 
and  carefully  the  Judge  drew  out  the  surprising  story 
and  its  terrible  details.  He  looked,  to  the  girls'  wonder, 
not  half  so  excited  and  wrathful  as  they  expected.  To 
tell  the  truth,  they  were  disappointed  in  his  cool  serious 
face.  But  he  got  up  at  once  and  began  to  take  off  his 
dressing--gown. 

"  Get  my  boots,  Pussie,"  he  said.  "  I'll  drive  over  and 
take  a  look  at  these  rascals  of  yours." 

"But    you'll    take    a   policeman,   won't    you?"  Margie 
cried,  in  terror.      "They'll  murder  you,  too!" 
"Oh,  yes,  papa,  please  do!" 
"  Oh,  do!" echoed  Peggy. 

The  Judge  smiled  and  went  out.  Puss's  mother  in- 
sisted that  the  girls  should  go  up  into  Puss's  room  and 
rest  quietly  until  he  came  back,  and  they  were  not  at  all 
loath  to  obey. 

Peggy  seized  a  bottle  of  cologne  and  buried  her  nose 
in  it  luxuriantly.  "To  take  away  the  smell  of  that 
smoky  lamp!" she  exclaimed. 

A  great  sense  of  gratitude  crept  into  all  their  hearts. 
They  sat  in  the  cozy  chairs  and  looked  at  each  other  with 
sober,  contented  eyes. 

By-and-by,  when  the  lunch-bell  rang,  they  went  down, 
to  find  the  Judge  silting  at  the  table.  His  eyes  were 
twinkling. 

"  Well,  girls,  rested  any?"  he  said.  "I  found  your 
house.  It's  the  county  poorhouse,  you  know.  And 
those  three  pigs  they  killed  there  this  morning  are  as. 
likely  and  fat  a  set  of  grunters  as  I  ever  saw." 


THE  STRANGE  ADVENTURES  OF  TOMMY 
TODDLES. 

BY    ALBERT    LEE. 
CHATTER    XII. 

THE  Gargoyle  shifted  about  in  the  sand  until  he  got  his  stone 
legs  comfortably  fixed,  and  blinked  his  red  eyes  at  bis  au- 
ditors, especially  at  Tommy,  who  sat  beside  him  with  his  legs 
crossed,  like  a  tailor,  and  his  face  resting  on  his  hands,  his  el- 
bows on  his  knees.     The  little  boy  was  all  attention. 

"  It  was  the  largest  congregation  of  animals  I  ever  witnessed," 
began  the  stone  image.  "There  were  more  here  to-day  than  I 
ever  saw  at  a  Jabbergather." 

"  What  is  a  Jabbergather  ?"  interrupted  Tommy. 

"Tell  him  what  a  Jabbergather  is," said  the  Gargoyle,  turn- 
ing to  the  Sheep. 

"A  Jabbergather,"  explained  the  latter,  somewhat  ungrani- 
matieally,  "  is  when  the  animals  gather  together  and  jabber 
about  tilings  that  have  happened." 

"  Oh,  a  sort  of  five-o'clock  tea,"  said  Tommy. 

"No,"  replied  the  Gargoyle;  "because  a  Jabbergather  is  al- 
ways held  at  night,  and  they  don't  drink  tea.  They  eat  mush- 
rooms." 

"  How  indigestible,"  thought  Tommy. 

"And  you  must  not  interrupt  any  more,"  said  the  Sheep. 

"Well," continued  the  Gargoyle,  without  heeding  the  Sheep's 
remonstrance  to  the  little  boy."  tin-re  were  about  twice  as  many 
animals  as  como  to  a  Jabbergather,  and  the  fishes  all  sat  on  the 
waves,  many  rows  of  them,  reaching  far  out  to  sea." 

"Like  seats  in  a  theatre,"  put  in  Tommy. 

"  Shut  up  !"  growled  the  Sheep,  and  Tommy  subsided  again. 

"Of  course  the  Pengniu  and  the  Sword-fish  were  ready  to 
fight,  and  the  Horned  Owl,  who  was  to  be  referee,  was  on  hand. 
But  just  before  the  duel  began  there  was  a  great  rumpus  on  tin- 
third  wave  from  the  front,  which  created  such  a  commotion 
that  we  had  to  send  a  Monkey  and  a  Porpoise  out  there  to  see 
u  I  Ml  I  lie  trouble  was." 

"  How  did  you  happen  to  send  a  Monkey  ?"  asked  Tommy, 
much  to  the  Sheep's  evident  displeasure. 

••  \Ve  sent  him  on  Porpoise.'1  answered  the  Gargoyle.  "They 
canie  back  and  told  us  that  the  Sole  and  the  Flounder  were  sit- 
ing on  the  same  wave,  and  had  gotten  into  a  row." 

•'  The  same  old  dispute,  I  suppose,"  remarked  the  Sheep. 

"The  same  one  they  had  at  the  last  Jabbergather,"  assented 
the  Gargoyle. 

"And  what  did  they  dispute  a  bout  f"  asked  Tommy,  who  was 
very  anxious  to  kuow  all  about  what  was  going  on. 

"  May  /  tell  him  ?"  urged  the  ex-Pirate.  "  I've  made  a  classic 
out  of  it." 

"Certainly, go  ahead."  said  the  Gargoyle,  who  did  not  appear 
to  be  at  all  annoyed  by  these  continual  interruptions. 

"  Said  the  Sole  to  the  Flounder, 
'  You  shameless  old  rounder, 
I'd  have  you  to   understand  clearly 

That  your  constant  assumption 

Of  my  rightful  function 
Shall  be  punished — and  punished  severely.' 

"But  the  Flounder,  he  laughed 
And  gurgled  and  chaffed, 
And  said,  without  any  apology, 
'  If  men  are  such  moles 
They  take  Flounders  for  Soles, 
I'm  sure  I  can't  teach  them  iehthology.'  " 

"Uncle  Dick  told  me  once  that  you  could  not  tell  a  Flounder 
from  a  Sole,"  ventured  Tommy.  But  the  Sheep  frowned  severe- 
ly at  this,  and  said:  "Now  nobody  must  interrupt  any  more;" 
and  the  Gargoyle  then  proceeded  with  his  narrative. 

"After  the  Sole  and  the  Flounder  had  lieen  separated,  the 
Horned  Owl  called  Time,  who  came  in  out  of  the  pasi  and  sat 
down  on  his  hour-glass  at  the  side  of  the  ring.  The  duel  then 
began.  The  Sword-fish  fought  with  his  sword,  and  the  Penguin 
fought  with  a  long  pen  that  looked  like  a  spear.  I  tell  you  it 
was  exciting!  They  jabbed  ami  struck  each  other,  and  ran 
around  on  the  sand,  and  fell  down  and  got  up  again,  and  all  the 
animals  kept  shrieking  and  shunting,  and  the  Seals,  kept  yell- 
ing,''rah!  'rah!  'rah!'  It  was  immense!  Time  must  have  got- 
ten scared,  for  he  flew.  The  duel  kept  on,  nevertheless,  and 
pretty  soon  the  Sword-fish  began  to  show  signs  of  weariness. 
The  Penguin  kept  jabbing  him  with  his  pen,  and  thinsiini;  at 
him  until  he  finally  knocked  him  down,  and  the  Sword-fish  eric-d 
for  mercy.  The  Horned  Owl  called  Time  again,  but  Time  had 


320 


HARPER'S    5TOUNG    PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


THE    (iAldiuVLE    TELLS    THE    STORY    OF    THE    FIGHT. 


flown  so  fast  that  he  was  away  up  in  the  clouds.  So  the  Homed 
Owl  looked  at  him  and  said  Time  was  up,  and  then  t  IK-  tight  was 
all  over,  and  the  Penguin  had  proved  himself  to  be  mightier  than 
the  Sword-fish." 

The  Gargoyle  had  scarcely  finished  his  story  when  there  was 
a  great  hubbub  in  the. direction  of  the  house,  and  hundreds  of 
little  Crabs  came  surging  around  the  corner  shouting  at  the 
tops  of  their  voices  : 

"  Extra  !  Extra//  /  Extrec !     All  about  de  big  fight !" 

They  scampered  off  in  all  directions  along  the  beach,  and  some 
of  them  rushed  into  the  breakers  and  disappeared  under  the  sea. 
They  all  had  little  bundles  of  papers  under  their  arms,  and  were 
hastening  away  to  dispose  of  their  wares. 

"The  extra  is  out,"  said  the  Gargoyle.  "You  cau  get  one 
now  and  read  a  detailed  account  of  the  great  battle  for  your- 
self." 

"How  curious!"  mused  Tommy.  "  I  never  thought  before  to 
look  to  see  if  little  crabs  were  carrying  anything  wheu  I  have 
seen  them  running  along  the  beach." 

When  all  the  Crabs  had  disappeared  the  printer's  Devil-fish 
came  out  and  sat  on  the  frout  stoop  of  the  house,  and  presently 
the  Penguin  himself  sauntered  over  to  the  group  sitting  in  the 
sand  and  stood  beside  them. 

"Now,"  he  said  to  the  Sheep,  "I  am  at  your  disposal." 

"  I  don't  suppose  it's  of  any  use  for  rne  to  ask  you  if  you  have 
seen  my  animals  ?"  said  Tommy,  before  the  Sheep  could  answer. 

"Not  of  the  slightest  use,"  replied  the  Penguin,  haughtily. 
"  Editors  never  see  anything,"  and  to  emphasize  this  statement 
he  took  a  pair  of  blue  spectacles,  which  he  had  been  holding  in 
one  hand,  and  put  them  on.  "We  look  at  everything  through 
colored  glasses." 

"  More's  the  pity,"  said  the  Sheep.  "  But  if  you  have  not  act- 
ually seen  the  animals,  can't  you  tell  us  what  direction  they 
took  wheu  they  went  away  ?" 

"Certainly," said  the  Penguin.     "They  started  that  way." 

"  Yes,  that  way,"  repeated  the  Gargoyle  ;  "  off  over  the  dunes 
and  iu  toward  the  hills  and  the  forest." 

"Then  we  must  go  that  way  too,"  said  Tommy,  getting  up 
from  the  sand,  feeling  very  much  rested;  aud  his  companions 
did  likewise,  aud  they  all  bade  farewell  to  the  stone  image  and 
to  the  Penguin.  As  they  passed  over  the  duues  they  looked  back 
and  saw  tlie  Gargoyle  laboriously  climbing  back  to  his  perch  on 
the  house-top. 


"He's  that  way,"  murmur- 
ed the  ex-Pirate. 

The  three  walked  for 
some  time  in  silence  over 
sand  hills  and  through  un- 
derbrush, and  pretty  soon 
they  took  a  road  that  led 
through  some  broad  and 
sunny  fields. 

Away  off,  as  far  as  they 
could  see,  Tommy  noticed  a 
cloud  of  dust,  and  what 
looked  to  him  like  a  moving 
crowd  of  some  sort. 

"Those  must  be  my  ani- 
mals !"  he  exclaimed. 

The  ex-Pirate  climbed  on 
a  fence,  aud  put  his  hand  up 
over  his  eyes,  and  stared  as 
hard  as  he  could  at  the 
things  the  little  boy  had 
pointed  out.  to  him. 

"They  are  animals,"  he 
said,  finally.  "I  cau  see 
them  plainly.  There  are 
two  of  each  kind,  and  they 
are  walking  in  pairs." 

"  Those  are  mine,  surely  !" 
cried  the  little  boy,  now 
greatly  excited.  "Let  us 
run  aud  catch  up  with 
them." 

"  Yes,  let's  run,"  chimed 
both  the  Sheep  and  the  ex- 
Pirate;  aud  the  three  imme- 
diately started  off  at  break- 
neck speed  down  the  road 
in  the  direction  of  the  dust 
cloud.  Tommy  felt  as 

though  he  bad  never  run  so  fast  in  his  lite.  The  fence  posts 
aud  bushes  fairly  whizzed  past  him.  His  companions  kept  pn-tty 
well  abreast  of  him  at  first,  but  they  gradually  fell  behind,  and 
after  a  while,  when  Tommy  looked  back  over  his  shoulder,  they 
appeared  only  like  specks  far  back  on  the  yellow  highway.  The 
little  boy  tried  to  slow  up  in  order  to  wait  for  them,  but  his  legs 
had  got  to  goiug  so  fast  that  he  could  not  stop  himself.  He  was 
travelling  along  the  road  at  a  terrific  rate,  and  all  the  time  he 
was  rapidly  approaching  the  procession  of  animals  that  uow 
seemed  to  be  fully  life  size.  The  lions  aud  tigers  and  leopards 
looked  very  fierce,  and  yet  Tommy  felt  as  if  he  could  not  stop 
himself  from  running  right  into  them,  aud  he  began  to  get  very 
much  frightened.  Pretty  soon  he  was  almost  on  top  of  the  Guinea 
Pigs,  and  in  his  terror  he  stumbled  head  over  heels,  and  shouted: 
"Oh!  oh!  oh!" 

Then  he  opened  his  eyes  and  found  himself  lying  on  his  back 
on  his  own  window-seat  iu  the  play-room,  and  his  mother  was 
leaning  over  him  iu  the  twilight. 

"Come,  little  man,  wake  up,"  she  said,  as  she  pushed  his  hair 
back  from  over  his  little  warm  face  and  eyes.  "  You  have  been 
sleeping  here  like  a  little  pig  all  the  afternoon." 

"Have  I  ?"  said  Tommy,  sitting  up  and  rubbing  his  eyes. 
"  Aud,  oh,  mamma,  I've  had  such  a  funny  dream,"  he  added. 
Then  he  looked  at  his  Noah's  Ark  on  the  floor,  aud  sawr  his 
woodeu  animals  standing  two  aud  two,just  as  he  bad  placed 
them  there  hours  ago.  "  I  have  been  dreaming  about  them, 
mamma, "he  continued,  pointing  to  his  toys.  "  1  thought  they 
had  run  away  and  I  went  after  them,  and  I  had  such  a  long 
journey,  and  saw  all  sorts  of  things — Burglars,  Pirates,  aud  a 
nice  woolly  Sheep,  and  a  Penguin,  a  Loon,  a  Welsh  Rabbit,  a 
Gargoyle,  and  the  queerest  creature  iu  the  world,  called  Thing- 
umbob.'' 

"I'm  afraid  that  two  pieces  of  plum  pudding  are  too  much 
for  my  little  boy, "said  his  mother,  with  a  smile.  "But  come 
down  to  supper  now,  aud  there  you  may  tell  us  all  about  your 
wonderful  dream." 

So  he  washed  his  face  and  hands  and  went  down  with  his 
mother  to  the  dining-room, and  after  supper  he  told  them  all 
about  the  strange  adventures  of  Tommy  Toddles. 

THE    END. 


BOBBY  (looking  at  sky  just  before  an  evening  shower).  "  Mamma, 
where  are  all  the  stars  ?     Do  they  have  to  go  to  bed  early  too  ?" 


HARPERS 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


Copyright,  1895,  by  HARFKK  &  BROTHERS.     All  Rights  Reserved. 


PUBLISHED    WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI.— NO.  802. 


NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY,  MARCH  12,  1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO   DOLLAUS  A    TEAR. 


BUDD     WILDER'S     JUDGMENT. 


BY    WILLIAM    D  R  Y  S  D  A  L  E. 


11HREE  thousand  boxes  of  oranges,  at  $2  50  a  box,  are 
worth  §7500.  Budd  Wilder  has  figured  that  up  a 
hundred  times  within  the  last  few  weeks,  but  even  yet  he 
can  hardly  believe  that  the  amount  is  correct.  It  seems 
too  large  a  sum  for  a  boy  of  sixteen  to  have  made  for  his 
father  in  one  day  simply  by  the  exercise  of  good  judg- 
ment. 

Budd  is  a  Northern  boy,  but  his  home  is  in  Florida,  in 
the  orange-growing  region.  His  father,  Major  Wilder, 
saw  something  of  the  South  in  war-times;  and  when  his 
health  failed  a  few  years  ago,  he  determined  to  take 
his  family  to  Florida  and  buy  an  orange  grove.  He  had 


not  as  much  money  as  an  old  soldier  and  a  good  business 
man  ought  to  have,  but  by  giving  a  mortgage  he  was 
able  to  buy  a  grove  of  moderate  size,  in  the  midst  of 
which  stood  a  comfortable  two-story  house  with  a  broad 
veranda  in  front,  and  a  driveway  leading  down  to  the 
gate  lined  on  both  sides  with  tall  oleanders  and  Spanish- 
bayonets  and  fig-trees  and  bananas. 

"It  is  not  only  on  my  own  account  that  I  have  come 
down  here,"  the  Major  said  to  Budd;  ''it  is  largely  I'm- 
the  sake  of  you  and  your  brother  Harry.  In  this  thinly 
settled  country  you  will  have  to  learn  to  rely  upon  your- 
selves, and  that  is  one  of  the  most  important  things  for  a 


322 


HARPER'S    TOUJSTG    PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


hoy  to  learn.  You  shall  eacli  have  a  pony,  and  you  must 
learn  to  take  care  of  them.  When  your  saddle-girth 
breaks,  you  must  mend  it;  there  is  no  one  to  do  it  for 
you.  Whenever  anything  happens,  make  up  your  mind 
what  is  the  right  thing  to  do.  and  do  it.  Do  not  hesitate 
to  take  responsibility  when  it  is  necessary.  If  you  al- 
ways depend  upon  me,  you  will  never  amount  to  any- 
thing." 

Last  December  Budcl  Wilder  was  just  past  sixteen,  and 
people  said  that  lie  was  one  of  the  finest  boys  in  the 
neighborhood.  He  was  large  for  his  age,  and  plump, 
with  cheeks  as  brown  as  a  berry  from  exposure  to  the 
Florida  sun,  and  hands  several  degrees  browner  than  his 
face.  His  brother  Harry  was  a  year  and  a  half  younger, 
and  each  of  the  boys  had  a  score  of  orange-trees  of  his 
own,  which  he  cultivated  and  cared  for  himself,  and  re- 
ceived all  the  profits  from.  The  Major  and  all  the  family 
were  feeling  remarkably  comfortable,  for  every  tree  on 
the  place  was  fairly  loaded  down  with  oranges.  Many  of 
them  had  to  be  propped  up  to  prevent  the  limbs  from 
breaking.  Never  before  had  such  a  crop  been  known  all 
over  the  State.  The  prospect  was  that  the  mortgage  on 
the  grove  would  be  paid  off,  and  all  the  little  debts  settled, 
and  a  snug  sum  left  to  put  in  bank. 

"  I  estimate  that  there  are  over  3000  boxes  on  the  trees, 
Budd,"  the  Major  said,  "  and  Gravely  of  Jacksonville 
lias  offered  me  a  dollar  a  box  for  them  as  they  stand. 
But  I  am  not  willing  to  sell  for  that.  I  think  that  if  I 
let  them  stand  till  February,  I  can  get  $1  50  a  box,  and 
the  extra  §1500  is  worth  waiting  for." 

"  The  crop  is  so  good,"  the  Major  went  on,  "  and  every- 
thing looks  so  bright,  that  your  mother  and  I  are  think- 
ing of  giving  ourselves  a  little  treat.  We  are  thinking 
of  going  North  to  spend  the  Christmas  holidays,  leaving 
you  and  Harry  here  to  take  care  of  the  place.  I  shall 
leave  everything  in  your  charge,  for  I  don't  believe  in 
divided  responsibility." 

It  was  in  this  way,  it  happened  that  on  the  23d  of  De- 
cember Budd  found  himself  in  complete  charge  of  an 
orange  grove  with  more  than  §3000  worth  of  fruit  on  the 
trees.  He  and  Harry  were  not  alone  on  the  place,  for 
Betty,  the  old  colored  woman,  was  there  to  do  the  cook- 
ing, and  there  were  two  colored  men. 

On  the  morning  of  the  23d  of  December  there  was  no- 
thing either  in  the  weather  report  or  in  the  sky  to  give 
him  any  anxiety,  and  it  was  the  same  on  the  24th.  But 
on  Christmas  morning  he  rode  home  from  the  post-office 
with  a  troubled  expression  in  his  face. 

"  I  don't  half  like  the  looks  of  things,  Harry,"  he  said. 
"The  thermometer  went  down  to  thirty-six  last  night, 
and  the  paper  says  there's  a  cold  wave  coming  from  the 
Northwest.  It  would  be  a  terrible  thing  if  these  3000 
boxes  of  oranges  should  freeze  while  father  is  away. 
You  know  what  that  would  mean;  we'd  lose  the  entire 
crop,  and  then  I  don't  know  where  we  should  be,  with 
the  mortgage  to  pay  off  and  bills  at  the  stores." 

"Oh,  pshaw!"  Harry  replied;  "you're  always  fretting 
about  the  weather.  It's  all  moonshine  to  talk  about 
freezing  when  it's  so  hot  here  in  the  sun  we  can't  wear 
our  coats.  If  freezing  weather  comes,  we  can't  stop  it, 
and  we'll  just  have  to  put  up  with  it,  that's  all.  Father 
can't  blame  us  for  what  the  weather  does,  and  you  know 
oranges  will  stand  a  temperature  of  28°  without  harm, 
anyhow." 

"Yes,  it's  hot  enough  in  the  sun,"  Budd  retorted; 
"but  there  is  no  sun  at  night,  and  it's  the  cold  nights 
that  may  hurt  us.  1  should  never  forgive  myself  if  any- 
thing should  happen  to  the  oranges  while  the  folks  are 
away." 

On  the  next  day,  the  26th,  there  was  no  change  in  the 
weather.  So  far  there  had  been  no  frost,  but  it  was  cold 
enough  at  night  to  keep  a  blazing  fire  in  the  fireplace. 
\Yheii  the  27th  came  it  was  no  colder,  but  the  paper  said 


the  cold  wave  was  coming  nearer;  it  had  reached  Ken- 
tucky and  Tennessee,  and  was  travelling  southward. 
Budd  was  more  worried  than  ever.  A  drop  of  ten  de- 
grees in  the  night  temperature  would  ruin  every  orange 
in  the  grove,  and  almost  ruin  the  Wilder  family. 

Then  came  the  paper  of  the  28th.  which  was  Friday. 
"  Heavy  frosts  in  the  northern  part  of  the  State."  it  said. 
"The  cold  wave  advancing  southward.  Colder  weather 
all  over  Florida  to-night." 

On  his  way  home  from  the  post-office  Budd  hardly  sa^v 
a  foot  of  the  road,  for  he  was  busy  thinking.  The  cold 
wave  was  coming,  and  the  family's  fortunes  were  at 
stake.  He  felt  a  tremendous  responsibility  upon  his 
shoulders,  and  he  would  have  given  the  world  for  a  word 
of  advice  from  his  father;  but  no  father  was  there,  and 
he  had  to  depend  upon  himself.  When  he  reached  home 
he  was  still  undecided  whether  anything  could  or  should 
be  done,  and  he  went  straight  to  his  room  and  locked  the 
door.  When  he  came  out  his  mind  was  made  up. 

"Harry,'"  he  said,  "things  look  very  serious.  The 
thermometer  went  down  to  33°  last  night,  and  the  cold 
wave  will  strike  us  to-night.  We  may  lose  all  our  or- 
anges. I  think  it  would  be  possible  to  have  them  all  pick- 
ed this  afternoon  and  to-night,  and  get  them  in  out  of 
danger.  What  do  you  think  about  it?" 

"I  think  that  having  charge  of  this  grove  has  turned 
your  head,"  Harry  replied.  "You  talk  like  a  crazy 
man.  How  could  we  have  3000  boxes  of  oranges  picked 
in  one  afternoon?  Why,  it  would  take  fifty  men  to  do 
it." 

"Yes,  just  about  fifty  men,"  Bndd  said;  "and  I  think 
I  can  get  them.  Instead  of  paying  the  usual  price  for 
picking,  four  cents  a  box,  I  can  oft'er  ten  cents  to  make 
the  men  work  faster.  That  will  cost  about  $300,,  but  it 
will  be  better  than  losing  our  oranges.  I  want  your 
opinion  about  it." 

"My  opinion  is  that  you  had  better  let  the  oranges 
alone,"  Harry  answered,  very  decidedly.  "I  think  fa- 
ther will  have  something  lively  to  say  to  you  when  In- 
comes home,  if  you  make  such  a  fool  of  yourself.  Look 
at  Thompson's,  the  next  place;  they're  not  picking;  no- 
body is  picking.  Don't  think  you  know  more  about  the 
weather  than  all  these  old  growers." 

"Very  well,"  Budd  exclaimed.  "I  have  obeyed  or- 
ders and  consulted  with  you.  Now  I  shall  obey  them 
still  further  and  act  according  to  my  own  judgment.  I 
am  going  to  pick  the  oranges,  if  it  is  possible  to  get  the 
men.  I  expect  you  to  give  me  your  help,  even  though 
your  opinion  is  different.  I  want  you  to  take  down  all  the 
beds  and  make  as  much  room  in  the  house  as  you  can. 
It  will  take  every  room  to  store  them  in,  but  we  must 
keep  the  kitchen  to  live  in.  Will  you  help  me?" 

"Of  course,"  Harry  answered;  "if  you  take  the  re- 
sponsibility. But  wont  you  catch  it  when  father  comes 
home !" 

Ten  minutes  later  the  two  colored  hands  were  hurry- 
ing to  the  post-office  and  the  stores  after  pickers;  and 
Budd  was  riding  like  mad  to  Eatonville,  the  colored  set- 
tlement, where  he  hoped  to  find  plenty  of  idle  men.  Ten 
cents  a  box!  Why,  a  man  could  make  over  five  dollars 
between  noon  and  midnight,  working  part  of  the  time  by 
moonlight.  Yes,  indeed;  every  unemployed  man  was 
ready  to  work  at  such  a  price.  Before  eleven  o'clock 
thirty  men  were  (licking  oranges  in  the  grove.  By  noon 
then-  were  sixty  men  at  work,  and  none  of  them  stopped 
for  dinner;  they  could  not  afford  it,  when  they  were 
making  money  so  fast. 

In  two  or  three  hours  the  house  was  a  sight.  Who 
ever  saw  a  house  before  with  oranges  piled  several  feet 
deep  in  every  room,  and  the  piles  growing  deeper  every 
minute?  But  down  came  the  oranges;  and  the  neigh- 
bors, seeing  what  was  going  on,  began  to  talk. 

"That's  what  comes  of  letting  that  boy  have  his  own 


HARGII  12,  1S95. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


323 


way  so  much,"  said  one.  "  His  father  seems  to  think  hi' 
ought  to  know  as  much  as  a  man.  Who'd  think  a  boy 
would  do  such  a  tiling?  and  his  father  away,  too!  It's 
going  to  lose  the  Major  a  clean  thousand  dollars,  that  job 
is.  If  any  boy  of  mine  did  such  a  thing-,  I'd  give  him  a 
lesson  he'd  not  forget  in  a  hurry." 

When  the  sun  went  down  the  men  built  little  fires  in 
the  grove  to  warm  their  hands.  The  thermometer  >aid 
29.  and  29  is  extremely  cold  weather  for  Florida.  Budd 
had  a  clear  place  lefl  about  the  great  stove  in  the  sitting-- 
room ;  and  Harry's  work  was  to  pile  in  wood  aud  keep  a 
big  fire  to  warm  the  whole  house. 

Eiulil  felt  the  weight  of  a  nation  resting  upon  his  shoul- 
ders. Perhaps  he  was  losing  hundreds  of  dollars  for  his 
father;  "but  I  am  using  my  best  judgment,"  lie  said  to 
himself.  Twenty  times  an  hour  he  looked  at  the  ther- 
mometer. At  seven  o'clock  it  was  down  to  27°;  at 
eight  o'clock,  26°.  Then  he  went  out  among  the  men. 

"Rush  them  along,  boys!"  he  called  out.  "They  can't 
stand  more  than  two  hours  of  this  weather.  There's  a 
•dollar  apiece  extra  for  you  if  you  have  the  trees  clean  by 
ten  o'clock." 

And  the  men  did  it,  by  the  hardest  kind  of  hard  work. 
By  ten  o'clock  not  an  orange  could  be  seen  on  the  trees 
under  flic  bright  moonlight,  and  the  house  was  piled  full 
of  them.  When  Budd  looked  at  the  thermometer  it  said 
22°.  He  knew  what  that  meant.  Every  orange  in  every 
neighboring  grove  was  ruined.  The  weight  was  lifted 
from  his  shoulders,  but  he  began  to  worry  then  about 
his  neighbors'  losses. 

After  the  pickers  went  home  Budd  and  Harry  sat  by 
the  big  stove,  and  kept  the  fire  roaring.  The  house  mu.st 
be  kept  warm  or  the  oranges  might  still  freeze.  Both 
had  to  laugh  at  the  wonderful  appearance  of  the  house, 
though  neither  felt  like  laughing.  Budd  was  full  of  ex- 
citement, and  Harry  was  shivering  with  cold.  At  mid- 
night Harry  went  out  to  look  at  the  thermometer,  and 
when  lie  returned  he  held  out  his  hand  to  Budd. 

"Shake,  old  man!"  he  said.  "I'll  own  up  that  you 
were  right  and  I  was  wrong.  Do  you  know  what  the 
thermometer  is  now?  It's  18°.  You've  saved  the  Wilder 
family,  sure.  I  don't  see  what  ever  put  it.  into  your  head 
that  it  was  going  to  be  so  cold.  Nobody  else  has  picked 
any  oranges,  aud  of  course  everything  that's  left  out  is 
ruined." 

Budd  was  hardly  able  to  reply  as  he  took  Harry's  hand. 
The  excitement  had  kept  kim  up;  but  now  that  it  was 
over,  and  the  oranges  were  safe,  he  felt  weak. 

"You  don't  know  what  I've  been  through.  Harry. "he 
said.  "It  seems  like  a  nightmare,  though  it  has  all 
turned  out  so  well  for  us.  Everybody  was  against  me, 
and  I  guess  everybody  laughed  at  me.  I  know  the  pick- 
ers were  laughing  in  their  sleeves  while  they  were  at 
work;  they  thought  it  was  a  foolish  boy's  notion,  and 
they  might  as  well  make  all  they  could  out  of  it.  But 
I  cannot  turn  around  and  laugh  at  the  others  now,  for 
the  poor  fellows  have  lost  nearly  everything  they  have 
in  the  world." 

There  was  no  going  to  bed  that  night,  for  the  fire  must 
be  kept  up.  At  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  Budd 
went  out  again  to  look  at  the  thermometer,  it  registered 
lli°.  It  was  the  night  of  the  great  freeze  of  1894,  the 
great  freeze  of  December  28th  and  29th,  when  the  weather 
was  colder  in  Florida  than  it  had  been  before  since  1835. 
Millions  of  dollars'  worth  of  oranges  were  ruined  that 
night,  and  thousands  of  trees  were  killed. 

"There  was  just  one  thing  kept  me  up,"  Budd  said, 
after  a  while.  "  You  know  how  often  father  has  told  me, 
'make  up  your  mind  what  is  right,  then  do  it.  Rely 
upon  yourself.'  Well.  I  made  up  my  mind  that  the 
oranges  ought  to  come  in.  I  had  to  rely  upon  myself, 
for  here  were  all  these  old  orange-growers  around  us  pay- 
ing no  attention  to  the  weather,  and  it  was  just  the  same 


as  if  I  had  told  them  that  they  didn't  understand  their 
business.  But  I  followed  my  own  judgment,  and  the 
oranges  are  safe.  I'm  afraid  we'd  have  lost  our  name, 
Harry,  if  we  had  lost  this  big  crop." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  them,  now  that  you 
have  them  in  the  house?"  Harry  asked. 

"Sell  them,  of  course,"  Budd  replied;  "but  I  don't 
know  yet  just  how.  It's  enough  for  one  day  to  have 
them  safe  inside.  They  ought  to  be  worth  more  than 
ever,  now  that  so  many  others  have  been  frozen." 

On  the  day  after  the  great  freeze,  the  30th  of  December, 
the  weather  remained  so  cold  that  the  boys  could  do  little 
but  stay  in  the  house  and  keep  the  fire  burning.  But 
the  next  day,  the  31st,  was  full  of  excitement  for 
them.  First  of  all  came  the  newspaper,  with  its  glaring 
headlines,  "The  Orange  Crop  Ruined."  "A  Terrible 
Calamity  has  Befallen  the  State."  "  Not  a  Marketable 
Orange  is  Left  in  Florida."  Then  two  or  three  hours 
later  there  arrived  a  fruit-buyer  from  Jacksonville.  He 
was  travelling  about  to  see  how  much  damage  had  been 
done,  and  to  buy  any  good  fruit  that  he  could  find.  He 
had  heard  the  story  of  Budd's  picking  the  entire  crop  be- 
fore the  freeze,  and  was  anxious  to  buy  it. 

"  I  will  give  you  a  dollar  anrfa  half  a  box  for  the  entire 
lot,  just  as  it  lies,"  he  said,  after  examining  the  oranges. 

"  Can't  sell  them  for  that,"  Budd  replied.  "  Oranges  are 
scarce  now,  and  these  are  the  only  sound  ones  I  know 
of." 

"Two  dollars,"  said  the  buyer. 

"  No,  I  can't  take  less  than  two  and  a  half."  Budd 
answered.  This  was  a  sudden  inspiration;  his  brightest 
hope  had  been  to  get  $1  50  a  box  for  them. 

"I  will  take  them  at  two  and  a  half,"  the  buyer  said. 

"Cash  on  delivery  ?"  said  Budd. 

"  Cash  on  delivery,"  echoed  the  buyer. 

While  the  nian  was  out  in  search  of  teams  to  draw  the 
oranges  to  the  nearest  packing- house  a  colored  boy 
brought  in  a  telegram.  It  was  from  Major  Wilder,  and 
came  from  Jacksonville. 

"  Will  be  home  this  evening,"  the  message  said.  "  Meet 
us  at  the  station." 

"  There's  a  mistake  I  made!"  Budd  exclaimed,  snapping 
his  fingers  impatiently.  "I  should  have  telegraphed 
father  that  we  were  all  right.  The  news  of  this  freeze 
has  gone  North,  and  father  must  be  worried  to  death 
about  it." 

He  drove  over  to  the  station  to  meet  the  evening  train, 
and  what  he  saw  made  his  heart  sick.  The  weather  had 
grown  warmer,  and  every  frozen  leaf  had  begun  to  turn 
brown.  The  trees,  instead  of  a  bright  green,  looked  like 
Northern  forest  trees  in  winter;  and  beneath  them  the 
ground  was  yellow  with  frozen  and  useless  oranges. 

"Oh,  Budd,  Budd,  my  poor  boy!"  Mrs.  Wilder  ex- 
claimed, throwing  her  arms  around  Budd's  neck  on  the 
station  platform.  "  I  don't  know  what  will  become  of 
us  all."  She  had  seen  the  frozen  trees  all  along  the  rail- 
road track. 

"  We  are  all  right,  mother,"  Budd  answered.  "  I  picked 
the  entire  crop  before  the  freeze  came." 

"What  is  that!"  Major  Wilder  exclaimed,  excitedly 
seizing  Budd  by  the  shoulder.  "You  saved  the 
crop!" 

"Yes,  sir;  every  orange,"  Budd  replied.  "I  got  sixty 
men, and  had  them  all  picked  last  Friday  afternoon,  and 
this  morning  I  sold  them  all  for  82  50  a  box,  cash  on  de- 
livery. I  was  a  little  doubtful  about  doing  it;  but  you 
know  you  have  often  told  me  to  'Make  up  my  mind  what 
is  right,  then  do  it.'  I  made  up  my  mind  that  the  oranges 
ought  to  be  picked,  so  I  picked  them." 

"Then  you  have  saved  us  from  ruin,  my  boy,"  Major 
Wilder  said;  and  his  eyes  were  moist.  "It  is  a  grand 
principle,  and  he  is  a  grand  man  who  follows  it — 'Make 
up  your  mind  what  is  right,  then  do  it!'" 


324 


HAEPEPv'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


THE   TURTLE'S   WISH. 

BY  ALBERT  LEE. 

T7WERY  one  in  tlie  house  had  gone  to  bed,  and  the  sit- 
_tj  ting-room  was  shrouded  in  almost  perfect  silence. 
The  lights  were  out,  but  the  embers  in  the  fireplace  glowed 
just  warmly  enough  to  throw  a  faint  yellow  light  across 
the  leopard  -  skin  lying  in  front  of  the  hearth,  and  the 
only  sounds  that  disturbed  the  absolute  stillness  of  the 
night  were  the  ticking  of  the  Swiss  clock  on  the  wall  op- 
posite and  the  occasional  dropping  of  a  dying  coal  from 
the  grate  into  the  ash  heap.  Presently  there  was  a  rattle 
of  wheels,  and  a  little  door  just  below  the  face  of  the 
clock  flew  open,  and  a  funny  little  carved  bird  thrust  its 
head  out  and  shouted: 

"Cuckoo!  cuckoo!  cuckoo!" 

The  bird  repeated  this  twelve  times  and  then  jumped 
back  into  the  clock  just  as  the  door  slammed  to  again 
with  a  bang  that  seemed  almost  loud  in  the  prevailing 
stillness.  The  Leopard-skin  lifted  its  head  up  slightly 
and  yawned. 

"I  wish  that  dreadful  bird  would  shut  up  at  night," 
he  muttered.  "  There  is  no  one  about  to  hear  it,  and  for 
my  own  part  I'd  like  to  get  a  chance  to  sleep  in  peace." 

The  little  door  flew  open  again,  and  the  Cuckoo  peeked 
out  and  looked  over  toward  the  fireplace. 

"I  heard  you,"  exclaimed  the  bird.  "I  heard  you. 
But  you  need  not  think  I  am  as  bad  as  you  are.  It's  my 
business  to  cuckoo  all  night  as  well  as  all  day,  and  I 
mean  to  attend  to  my  duties  whether  there  is  anybody 
about  to  hear  me  or  not.  That's  why  I'm  called  a  Cuckoo. 
If  you  don't  like  it,  roll  yourself  up  in  camphor  and  put 
yourself  away  for  the  summer." 

"Tut!  tut!"  said  the  Dresden  China  Shepherd  on  the 
mantel-piece.  "Don't  quarrel.  Night  is  too  short  for 
that  sort  of  thing.  And,  besides,  we  hear  the  people  quar- 
relling all  day;  let  us  have  a  rest  at  night." 

"  That's  what  I  said, "growled  the  Leopard-skin.  "Give 
us  a  rest." 

"But  it  is  not'  the  Cuckoo's  fault," put  in  the  Gnome, 
who  dangled  at  the  end  of  the  chain  which  hung  down 
from  the  Swiss  clock. 

"Don't  you  speak  until  you're  spoken  to,"  snapped  the 
Leopard-skin.  "  Can't  you  wait?" 

"  I  am  a  weight, "retorted  the  Gnome. 

"Come,  come,  now,"  the  Dresden  China  Shepherd  ex- 
postulated again.  "  Stop  this  quarrelling." 

"Yes,  stop  this  quarrelling,"  echoed  the  Dresden  China 
Shepherdess,  at  the  other  end  of  the  mantel-piece.  "  We 
don't  quarrel,"  and  she  blushed  sweetly,  and  made  eyes 
at  the  Shepherd,  who  looked  very  much  pleased,  and 
nodded  his  head  quite  approvingly. 

After  a  short  pause  the  Gnome  spoke  again. 

"I'm  only  about  two  inches  from  the  floor," he  said. 

"Good  gracious!"  exclaimed  the  Cuckoo,  peering  over 
the  door-sill  and  gazing  down  toward  the  carpet. 

"They  forgot  to  pull  me  up  to-night,"  continued  the 
Gnome.  "In  less  than  half  an  hour  I  shall  be  on  the 
floor." 

"Then  the  clock  will  stop," exclaimed  the  Shepherd, 
with  great  concern. 

"  Yes,  and  then  that  bird  will  be  out  of  a  job,"  growled 
the  Leopard-skin. 

No  one  paid  any  attention  to  this  remark.  The  Swiss 
clock  went  on  ticking  regularly  as  the  wooden  pendulum 
swung  to  and  fro,  and  the  coals  kept  on  dropping  at  in- 
tervals from  the  grate.  After  a  while  the  pendulum  be- 
gan moving  slower  and  slower,  and  the  ticking  grew 
fainter  and  fainter,  until  at  last  it  stopped  altogether. 
Then  there  was  a  sort  of  shuffling  noise  as  if  something 
was  moving  about  on  the  carpet,  and  pretty  soon  the 
Gnome's  voice  was  heard  to  say,  timidly, 

"I'm  on  my  feet." 


"Whose  feet  would  you  expect  to  be  on?"  snarled  the 
Leopard-skin.  "You'd  better  not  get  on  mine." 

"You  have  not  got  any,"  replied  the  Gnome,  sharply. 
"You  have  not  got  any  inside,  anyway.  You  are  all 
outside,  trimmed  with  red  flannel!'' 

"  Well,  I  have  not  lost  my  head  yet,"  muttered  the  Skin  ; 
and  then  he  added,  "Is  the  Cuckoo  going  to  sing  any 
more?" 

"  I  can't, "replied  the  bird;  "the  Clock  has  stopped." 

"Good  for  the  Clock." 

"To  tell  the  truth,"  continued  the  Cuckoo,  apologet- 
ically, "I'm  glad  to  get  a  rest  myself.  If  you  were  not 
so  horrid  I'd  like  to  come  over  by  the  fire  and  get 
warm." 

"Oh,  come  on!"  said  the  Leopard  skin,  quite  affably 
(and  the  Dresden  China  Shepherdess  murmured,  "  Isn't  he 
nice!"),  "I  didn't  mean  you  any  harm;  only  I  do  get  so 
tired  of  your  continual  shrieking  at  every  hour." 

"  It  is  not  the  Cuckoo's  fault,"  said  the  Gnome,  for  the 
second  time. 

"  Why  isn't  it?"  asked  the  Shepherd,  who  felt  he  ought 
to  contribute  his  share  toward  the  general  reconciliation. 

"Why  isn't  it?"  repeated  the  Gnome,  in  surprise. 
"Why,  because  she's  a  Cuckoo,  of  course.  Didn't  you 
know  that  all  Cuckoos  are  suffering  under  the  Turtle's 
curse?" 

"  Never  heard  of  that,"  said  the  Shepherd. 

"Nor  I."  added  the  Leopard-skin. 

"  Oh,  do  tell  us  about  it !"  pleaded  the  little  Shepherdess. 

So  the  Gnome  let  go  of  the  long  clock-chain,  and  went 
over  to  the  fireplace.  The  Cuckoo  flapped  its  wooden 
wings  and  flew  down  to  the  hearth,  and  both  the  Statuettes 
clambered  down  the  lambrequin,  and  stood  together  near 
the  Gnome  in  order  to  hear  his  explanation  of  how  it  was 
that  the  Cuckoos  were  cursed  by  the  Turtle. 

"Well,  it  was  a  long  time  ago,  of  course,"  began  the 
Gnome,  having  seated  himself  comfortably  on  the  fender 
— "  almost  long  enough  ago  for  me  to  begin  by  saying, 
'  Once  upon  a  time.' 

"  The  old  Turtle  lived  down  by  the  swamp,  and  had  a 
very  easy  time  of  it,  and  withal  was  a  very  good  old 
Turtle.  One  day  he  got  a  message  from  his  brother,  who 
lived  near  the  pond  over  the  hill,  saying  that  two  little  new 
Turtlets  had  just  arrived,  and  asking  him  to  come  over  to 
the  christening  the  next  day.  So  the  Turtle  got  up  bright 
and  early  that  morning,  and  polished  his  shell  until  it 
shone  in  the  sunlight  like  burnished  gold,  and  then  he 
started  off  along  the  road  toward  the  pond.  He  had  not 
gone  very  far  when  he  came  to  a  beautiful  wild-rose  bush 
in  full  bloom,  and  underneath  it  sat  Agathea,  the  pretty 
little  forest  fairy. 

"  '  Good-morning,  Mr.  Turtle,' said  Agathea. 

"'Good-morning,  pretty  one,'  answered  the  Turtle, 
very  politely.  '  You  look  as  sweet  as  the  dawn  of  a  May 
morning.' 

"  'And  where  are  you  going  so  early  in  the  day?'  asked 
the  Fairy,  blushing  with  pleasure  at  the  Turtle's  compli- 
ment. 

"  '  I'm  going  over  the  hill  and  down  to  the  pond,  where 
my  brother  has  two  little  Turtlets  that  are  to  be  christ- 
ened to-day.' 

"'Two  little  Turtlets!'  exclaimed  Agathea.  'And 
will  you  take  them  a  present  from  me?' 

"'With  the  greatest  pleasure,'  said  the  Turtle,  for  he 
knew  that  a  present  from  the  forest  fairy  could  not  but 
be  welcome  to  his  nephews. 

"Agathea  picked  up  a  little  box  from  the  moss  under 
tli£  rose  bush,  and  handed  it  to  the  Turtle. 

"  'In  this  box,'  she  said,  '  is  a  wish.  You  may  have 
it.  Think  of  what  you  would  most  like  to  happen,  and 
say  the  words  out  loud  when  you  open  the  box.  Then 
your  wish  will  come  true.  Be  very  careful  about  keep- 
ing the  box  closed  until  you  get  to  the  christening,  for  if 


MARCH  12,  1895. 


HARPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


325 


you  should  wish  for  something  on  the  way  and  open  the 
box,  then  that  wish  would  be  granted.  You  must 
wish  in  the  presence  of  the  ones  the  wish  is  to  affect. 
So  be  careful,  and  wish  in  the  presence  of  the  Turt- 
lets.1 

"Saying  this,  Agathea  gave  the  box  to  the  Turtle,  and 
bade  him  good  luck  on  his  journey.  He  thanked  her 
effusively,  and  continued  on  his  way.  He  plodded  along 
up  the  hill,  which  was  a  good  deal  longer  and  a  good  deal 
steeper  than  he  had  expected  to  find  it,  and  after  a  while, 
as  the  sun  kept  getting  higher  and  higher  in  the  heavens, 
he  began  to  fear  he  would  be  late  at  the  christening.  So 
he  hurried  on  as  fast  as  he  could,  and  soon  he  found  him- 
self passing  through  a  woods  where  there  were  any  num- 
ber of  cuckoos.  They  all  appeared  to  be  very  busy  build- 
ing nests  for  the  little  cuckoos,  and  they  did  not  pay 
much  attention  to 
old  Uncle  Turtle, 
who  was  crawling 
along  as  hard  as 
he  could  with  his 
wish -box  in  one 
hand.  Pretty  soon 
he  stopped  and 
spoke  to  one  of  the 
cuckoos. 

"  'Good  -morn- 
ing, Mr.  Cuckoo,' 
he  said.  '  Can 
you  tell  me  what 
time  it  is?' 

"But  the  Cuc- 
koo was  so  busy 
that  he  did  not 
pay  any  attention 
to  the  Turtle's  re- 
quest.and  present- 
ly flew  away.  The 
Turtle  went  on  a 
little  further  and 
met  another. 

"  '  Please,  Mr. 
Cuckoo,'  he  be- 
gan, 'can  you  tell 
me  what  time  it 
is?  I  am  going 
to  the  christening 
of  the  little  Turt- 
le ts,  and  I  am 
afraid  I  shall  be 
Jate.' 

"'I  guess  you 
will,'  answered 
the  Cuckoo ;  and 
he  went  on  build- 
ing his  nest,  but 
he  wouldn't  tell 
the  Turtle  what 

time  it  was.  The  latter  was  getting  very  angry  by  this 
time,  because  he  had  never  been  treated  so  impolitely 
before  by  the  cuckoos  or  by  any  one  else,  but  he  went  oil 
a  liltle  further,  and  every  time  he  met  a  cuckoo  he  asked 
what  time  it  was.  Some  of  them  paid  no  attention  to 
him,  others  said  they  did  not  know  the  hour,  and  others 
again  told  him  they  had  no  time  to  stop  and  fuss  witli 
turtles.  So  the  Turtle  kept  getting  angrier  and  angrier, 
iind  by  the  time  he  had  reached  the  top  of  the  hill  he  was 
the  angriest  old  Turtle  you  ever  saw.  There  he  met 
two  more  cuckoos,  and  he  spoke  to  these  as  a  last  ef- 
fort. 

;  '  Please,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cuckoo,  what  time  of  day  is  it? 
I  am  going  to  the  christening  of  the  liltle  Turtlets, 
and—' 


the    Turtlets,'   said    one    of   the   Cuckoos, 


;  '  Bother 
sharply. 

'We    don't    know     what    time    it    is,'    added    the 
other. 

"  These  replies  made  the  Turtle  so  angry  that  he  did  not 
know  what  to  do.  He  looked  down  at  his  box,  and  on 
seeing  it,  he  remembered  that  by  opening  it  he  could  have 
any  wish  he  wanted.  So  for  the  moment  he  forgot  all 
about  the  Turtlets,  and  he  said  to  himself,  'I'll  just  wish 
something  about  these  cuckoos  that  will  make  them  sorry 
they  did  not  tell  me  what  time  it  was.' 

"  Then  he  crawled  up  on  a  stone,  and  prepared  to  open 
the  box,  saying  out  loud  as  he  did  so: 

'  'May  all  the  cuckoos  that  ever  live  be  compelled  to 
tell  the  time  of  day.  Every  hour  shall  they  call  the  time 
out  loud,  so  that  all  within  hearing  may  know.' 

"And  as  he 
said  this,  the  Tur- 
tle opened  the  box 
arid  let  the  Wish 
escape.  All  at 
once  every  cuc- 
koo in  the  woods 
began  to  tell  him 
what  time  it  was, 
and  from  what 
they  said  he  knew 
he  was  almost  too 
late  for  the  christ- 
ening. But  he 
hurried  on,  and 
when  he  came  to 
the  pond  he  told 
the  Turtlets  all 
about  what  had 
happened  to  him, 
and  although 
they  were  not 
much  pleased  at 
the  use  he  had 
made  of  Aga- 
thea's  gift  (for  lit- 
tle turtles  have 
no  appreciation  of 
time),  yet  they 
were  so  glad  to 
see  their  uncle 
that  they  did  not 
cry. 

"  And  so,"cou- 
cluded  the 

Gnome,  "  on  ac- 
count of  the  Tur- 
tle's wish,  every 
cuckoo  has  to  call 
out  the  time  of 
day  every  hour  in 
the  twenty-four." 

"What  did  Agathea  say  when  she  found  it  out?"  asked 
the  Dresden  China  Shepherdess. 

"I  can't  tell  you  about  that  now,"  said  the  Gnome. 
"  See,  it  is  getting  early." 

And  it  was.  The  embers  had  died  away  into  a  cold 
grayness,  and  the  first  faint  rays  of  dawn  were  creeping  in 
through  the  drawn  curtains.  So  the  Statuettes  climbed 
hastily  back  to  their  places  on  the  mantel -piece,  the 
Cuckoo,  flew  up  to  the  clock,  the  Gnome  hastened  back 
to  his  chain,  and  the  Leopard-skin  stretched  himself  out 
in  front  of  the  fireplace  again.  When  the  maid  came  in, 
a  few  hours  later,  to  clean  up,  she  saw  that  the  Swiss 
clock  had  stopped  at  half  past  twelve,  but  she  pulled  the 
little  Gnome  up  by  his  chain,  and  in  a  few  moments  the 
Cuckoo  was  hard  at  work  again  calling  out  the  hours. 


MAY    ALL   THE    CUCKOOS  THAT    EVER    LIVE    BE   COMPELLED   TO   TELL   THE   TIM  1C  ' 


326 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME    XVI. 


SNOW-SHOES     AND     SLEDGES. 

I;  V      KIRK     MUNROE, 
AUTHOR  OF  "  DOK.YMATES,"  "  RAFJMATES,"  "  CAMPMATF.S,"  F.TC. 

CHAPTER    III. 
MEASLES  AND  MUTINY. 

I  S  Phil  realized  the  full  gravity  of  the  situation  he 
1\.  instinctively  shrank  from  assuming-  the  responsibili- 
ty so  unexpectedly  thrust  upon  him.  One  of  his  Aunt 
Ruth's  long-ago  stories  of  a  poor  little  bear  who  found 
himself  alone  in  the  great  big  world  with  all  his  troubles 
before  him  Hashed  into  the  boy's  mind,  and  he  said  to 
himself,  "This  little  bear's  troubles  have  met  him,  sure 
enough,  and  in  full  force." 

But  why  should  he  assume  this  responsibility?  This 
was  not  his  expedition,  and  he  had  110  interest  in  it  save 
that  of  a  passenger.  It  did  not  seem  at  all  likely  that  it. 
could  succeed  now,  and  as  they  must  apparently  return 
to  St.  Michaels  sooner  or  later,  why  not  do  so  at  once, 
and  get  out  of  this  scrape  the  easiest  way  possible? 

But  hold  on,  Phil  Ryder!  Have  you  not  also  been 
paid,  at  the  very  highest  rate  too,  by  the  man  who  now 
lies  so  helpless  before  you,  and  whose  fortunes  are  in 
your  hands?  Did  he  not  rescue  you  from  certain  death 
out  there  in  those  cold  cruel  waters,  when  your  bidarkie 
was  on  the  point  of  foundering?  Did  you  not  gladly  ac- 
cept his  offer  to  accompany  him  on  this  trip  when  all 
appeared  smooth  sailing?  Have  you  not  been  fed  and 
clothed  at  his  expense?  Above  all,  has  he  not  proved  his 
confidence  in  you  by  appointing  you  to  a  position  of 
trust?  Are  such  things  as  gratitude  and  loyalty  unknown 
to  you?  You  were  proud  to  be  called  first  mate  yester- 
day, and  now  you  shrink  from  performing  the  first  and 
most  evident  duty  of  the  office. 

These  thoughts,  which  flashed  through  Phil's  mind  in 
a  few  seconds,  stung  him  as  though  they  had  been  so 
many  clearly  uttered  words.  The  hot  blood  rushed  to 
his  cheeks,  and  with  a  very  determined  look  on  his  face 
the  lad  walked  forward.  He  found  Serge  in  the  pilot- 
house, and  at  once  laid  the  situation  before  him.  In  con- 
clusion, he  said : 

''  We  must  make  some  move  at  once,  for  this  westerly 
wind  is  kicking  up  such  a  sea  that  our  anchors  won't 
hold  much  longer.  So,  under  the  circumstances,  as  the 
present  command  of  this  craft  seems  to  devolve  on  me,  I 
propose  to  continue  on  our  course,  get  rid  of  that  fellow 
Strengel  at  the  first  opportunity,  and  push  on  up  the  river 
until  our  further  progress  is  barred  by  ice,or  until  we  dis- 
cover a  good  place  in  which  to  lay  the  boat  up  for  the 
winter.  We  must  surely  find  white  men  somewhere 
who  will  help  us,  too." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Serge,  "we  are  certain  to  if  we  can 
only  get  as  far  as  the  Anvik  Mission.  At  any  rate,  Phil, 
what  you  propose  to  do  is  exactly,  the  right  thing,  and 
you  can  count  on  me  to  back  you  up  to  the  last  gasp." 

"I  knew  I  could,  old  man,"  replied  Phil,  warmly. 
"  Now  let's  go  below  and  make  ready  to  start." 

Calling  on  the  two  millwrights  to  follow  them,  Phil 
and  Serge  made  their  way  to  the  engine-room,  where 
they  found  the  engineer  just  rousing  from  a  heavy  sleep, 
which  Phil  suspected  had  been  aided  by  liquor. 

"Mr.  Sims,"  said  he,  "  what  would  be  the  effect  if  a 
cylinder-head  should  blow  out  under  full  steam?" 

"The  effect,"  replied  the  engineer,  slowly,  and  evi- 
dently surprised  at  the  question,  "  why,  any  one  who 
happened  to  be  in  range  would  be  killed,  all  in  this  p;iri 
of  the  boat  would  be  more  or  less  scalded,  and  the 
chances  are  that  this  expedition  would  come  to  a  very 
sudden  termination." 

"Of  course  yours  is  all  right?" 

"Certainly.     I  examined    it  only   yesterday,"  replied 


the  engineer,  testily.  "Now,  if  you  are  through  with 
your  foolish  questions,  it  seems  to  me  you'd  better  notify 
the  Captain  that  everything  is  ready  for  a  start.  I  don't 
want  to  waste  steam  by  blowing  off,  and  there's  more  on 
now  than  we  ought  to  carry." 

"  Would  you  mind  stepping  this  way  a  moment?" 
asked  Phil,  taking  the  engine-room  lantern  and  holding 
it  back  of  the  cylinder. 

Moved  by  curiosity  as  to  what  the  young  seal-hunter 
could  be  up  to.  the  engineer  stepped  forward,  gave  one 
look,  and  uttered  a  cry  of  horror.  More  than  half  the 
bolts  holding  the  massive  cylinder- head  in  place  had 
been  loosened. 

"Upon  my  honor  I  knew  nothing  of  this  thing,  Mr. 
Ryder."  he  gasped. 

"Of  course  you  didn't."  answered  Phil,  grimly,  "  for 
it  was  done  while  you  were  sleeping  off  the  effect  of 
those  brandied  peaches.  Where  is  Strengel?" 

"He  is  aft  somewhere;  but  surely,  Mr.  Ryder,  you 
don't  suspect  him  of  this  dastardly  act?" 

"  Go  and  tell  him  to  come  here,"  ordered  Phil,  turning 
to  one  of  the  millwrights.  In  a  moment  the  man  re- 
turned, and  reported  that  Strengel  claimed  to  be  too  busy 
to  come  just  then. 

With  an  expressive  glance  at  his  friend,  Phil  left  the 
engine-room,  and  Serge  followed  him.  A  minute  later, 
in  the  resistless  grasp  of  the  two  athletic  young  fellows, 
Mr.  Strengel  was  being  rushed  along  the  deck  so  rapidly 
as  to  suggest  that  he  had  very  imperative  business  in  the 
engine-room. 

"Here,  gentlemen,  is  the  man  who  did  that  thing," 
cried  Phil,  as  he  gave  the  breathless  and  trembling  wretch 
a  shove  that  landed  him  in  a  corner. 

"  So  help  me,  Mr.  Ryder—"  he  began,  abjectly. 

"Shut  up!"  shouted  Phil,  "and  don't  you  dare  speak 
again  until  you  are  spoken  to.  There  is  no  doubt  of  his 
guilt,  gentlemen,  for  I  saw  him  loosening  those  bolts  as 
plainly  as  I  see  him  now,  when  I  came  down  here  awhile 
ago  to  make  ready  for  starting.  He  did  not  see  me,  for 
I  was  in  darkness,  while  he  worked  by  lantern-light.  So 
I  watched  him  for  a  full  minute,  while  he  prepared  this 
death-trap  for  the  rest  of  us.  No  wonder  he  has  soug-ht 
the  most  distant  and  safest  part  of  the  ship  ever  since. 

"Moreover,  it  is  this  man  who,  on  two  previous  oc- 
casions, has  attempted  to  cripple  our  machinery.  He  is 
employed  by  the  old  company  to  injure  and  delay  this 
expedition  by  every  possible  means.  From  the  evidence 
before  us  it  looks  as  though  he  would  not  hesitate  to 
commit  murder  to  accomplish  his  designs.  Now,  gentle- 
men, what  in  your  opinion  ought  to  be  done  with  such  a 
bit  of  scum?" 

"Shoot  him!  Throw  him  overboard!"  suggested  two 
of  the  little  group  in  a  breath,  while  Serge  said  nothing. 
but  tightened  his  clutch  of  the  prisoner's  collar  omi- 
nously. 

"Turn  him  over  to  the  Captain,"  said  the  engineer. 
"  He'll  settle  the  case  in  a  hurry." 

"That  is  what  I  started  to  do,  and  what  I  am  afraid 
of,"  replied  Phil.  "The  Captain  has  sworn  to  shoot  on 
sight  the  first  man  he  catches  tampering  with  the  ma- 
chinery of  this  boat,  and  I  don't  believe  he'd  hesitate  a 
moment  before  doing  it  either.  At  the  same  time,  gen- 
tlemen, we  don't  want  to  have  any  bloodshed  on  the 
(  'liiiuo  if  we  can  help  it.  It  would  not  only  give  her  a 
bud  name  and  injure  our  prospects  on  the  river,  but 
would  furnish  us  with  a  cause  of  regret  for  the  rest  of 
our  lives.  So  I  thought  I  would  ask  your  opinion  before 
reporting  this  affair  to  the  Captain. 

"My  plan  would  be  to  get  under  way  as  quietly  as 
possible,  which  the  Captain  ordered  me  to  do  any  way  if 
we  were  afloat  at  daylight,  and  run  over  to  the  Pastolik 
wood-yard.  There  we'll  give  the  scoundrel  a  chance  to 
slip  ashore  and  hide  himself.  He'll  be  picked  up  fast 


MARCH  12,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


327 


enough  by  the  natives  who  own  the  yard.  We  won't 
make  any  stop  there,  but  will  run  on  up  our  staked  chan- 
nel, and  be  out  of  sight  before  anything  is  said  to  the 
Captain.  Thus  we  shall  get  rid  of  our  murderer  with- 
out having  his  blood  on  our  hands,  and  at  the  same  time 
leave  him  where  there  won't  be  the  slightest  chance  of 
his  troubling  us  any  more.  In  fact,  I'm  inclined  to 
think  that  if  he  once  gets  safely  out  of  this  boat,  he'll  be 
wise  enough  never  to  come  near  her  again.  I  shall  be 
sorry  for  him  if  he  does,  that's  all." 

After  some  discussion,  during  which  the  wretched 
prisoner  watched  the  faces  of  his  judges  with  painful 
eagerness,  this  plan  was  accepted.  Under  strictest  super- 
vision of  the  engineer,  Strengel  was  made  to  repair  his 
own  mischief.  Then  with  Serge  to  keep  careful  watch 
of  affairs  on  the  lower  deck,  and  with  Phil  at  the  wheel, 
the  Chimo  steamed  away  from  the  place  of  her  long  de- 
tention. 

As  the  steamer  rubbed  against  the  bank  near  Pastolik, 
Strengel  made  a  leap,  his  bag  was  flung  after  him,  aud 
without  having  come  to  a  full  stop  the  Chimo  moved 
on,  Phil  ringing  the  jingle-bell  for  full  speed  the  mo- 
ment it  was  safe  to  do  so. 

As  soon  as  the  steamer  again  readied  the  staked 
channel,  Phil  resigned  the  wheel  to  Serge,  and  calling 
on  the  two  millwrights  to  aid  him,  removed  the  stricken 
Captain  to  the  lower  deck.  There  a  bed  had  been  pre- 
pared for  him  in  a  warm  corner,  near  the  boiler,  which 
was  carefully  curtained  by  tarpaulins  against  any  draught 
of  cold  air.  Although  the  young  mate  had  but  slight 
knowledge  of  sickness,  and  was  still  uncertain  as  to  the 
nature  of  Gerald  Hamer's  illness,  he  knew  that  warmth 
would  do  his  patient  no  harm,  and  that  in  a  case  of 
measles  it  was  necessary  to  a  successful  treatment  of  the 
disease. 

CHAPTER     IV. 
PHIL   ASSUMES    COMMAND   AND   ASSERTS    HIS    AUTHORITY. 

THERE  was  much  alarm  among  the  scanty  crew  of  the 
Chimo  when  the  pitiable  state  of  their  leader  was  dis- 
covered, and  the  engineer  was  especially  loud  in  his  pro- 
tests against  attempting  to  continue  the  voyage  under 
sucli  discouraging  conditions.  He  declared  that  none 
but  madmen  would  think  of  doing  such  a  thing,  and  that 
unless  they  immediately  returned  to  St.  Michaels  they 
would  all  perish  in  that  wilderness  of  icy  water  and 
frozen  mud.  At  first  the  millwrights,  who  had  hereto- 
fore had  no  experience  in  rough  travel,  were  inclined  to 
agree  with  him;  but  Phil  stated  his  view  of  the  situation 
so  clearly,  and  was  so  sturdily  supported  by  Serge,  that 
they  were  finally  won  over  to  his  way  of  thinking.  So 
the  discontented  engineer  was  forced  to  yield  to  the 
wishes  of  the  majority. 

Five  miles  from  Pastolik  they  stopped  at  the  Eskimo 
village  of  Coatlik  for  a  supply  of  wood,  and  here  Serge, 
with  his  ability  to  speak  Russian,  proved  invaluable. 
Not  only  did  he  conduct  the  wood  negotiations,  but  h<> 
succeeded  in  purchasing  a  number  of  freshly  killed  wild- 
geese,  which  were  at  that  time  flying  southward  in  vast 
flocks.  Above  all,  he  secured  a  native  pilot,  who  promised 
to  go  with  them  until  they  met  running  ice. 

Nor  did  the  services  of  the  young  Russo-American 
diminish  one  whit  in  value  after  Coatlik  was  left  behind. 
He  alone  knew  how  to  prepare  the  broths  which  formed 
the  sole  nourishment  that  the  sick  man  was  able  to  take. 
He  only  could  converse  with  the  native  pilot,  and  learn 
from  him  the  mysteries  of  the  mighty  river.  He  it  was 
who  was  always  cheerful,  and  could  swing  the  lustiest 
axe.  when,  as  often  happened,  they  were  obliged  to  renew 
their  supply  of  fuel  from  chance  drift  piles;  and  it  was 
he  who  must  attend  the  sick  man  at  night,  because  the 
faintest  murmur  served  to  wake  him.  So  Serge  was  the 
very  life  of  that  dreary  voyage,  and  but  for  him  Phil 


knew  it    must   have  been    abandoned    long   before  they 
reached  the  haven  for  which  they  were  steering. 

And  it  was  a  dreary  voyage.  Day  after  day  witnessed 
the  same  monotony  of  turbid  waters,  so  widespread  that 
one  bank  was  often  invisible  from  the  other,  and  a  dead- 
ly level  of  drowned  lands  bounded  only  by  the  low,  far- 
away horizon.  Day  after  day  brought  the  same  gray 
skies,  chill  winds,  rain  squalls,  and  flurries  of  snow.  Ev- 
ery night  saw  heavy  frosts,  and  it  grew  hourly  more  ap- 
parent that  the  stern  reign  of  winter  was  close  at  hand. 

At  long  intervals  lonely  groups  of  sod-covered  huts 
gave  sign  that  human  beings  dwelt  even  in  those  unlove- 
ly wastes;  but  save  for  fuel,  the  young  commander  of 
the  Chimo  would  not  pause  to  make  their  acquaintance. 
From  earliest  dawn  until  dusk  he  forced  the  little  craft 
at  full  speed  against  the  swift  current,  often  grounding 
on  sand-bars  in  spite  of  the  native  pilot,  whose  only 
knowledge  was  of  the  best  channel  but  not  of  its  obstruc- 
tions. 

After  two  days  they  began  to  see  low  hills  on  the 
north,  and  on  this  side  the  river-bank  became  noticeably 
higher.  Although  this  was  encouraging,  it  produced 
but  slight  impression  on  the  spirits  of  the  depressed  crew, 
whose  situation  was  indeed  becoming  alarming.  They 
were  worn  out  with  anxiety,  overwork,  and  insufficient 
food,  for  they  had  neither  the  time  nor  inclination  to  do 
any  cooking  except  for  the  sick.  The  Captain  lay  in  a 
state  of  semi-stupor,  and  another  cot  within  the  same 
enclosure  held  one  of  the  millwrights,  who  had  been 
stricken  with  the  dread  disease  twenty-four  hours  later. 

By  the  end  of  the  first  week  in  October  they  were  some 
two  hundred  miles  from  the  mouth  of  the  river,  with 
nearly  one  hundred  yet  to  go  before  they  could  reach 
Anvik,  to  gain  which  Phil  was  directing  all  his  energies. 
He  knew  not  what  they  would  find  there;  but  he  had  an 
intuition  that  help  of  some  kind  awaited  them  at  that 
point.  At  any  rate  he  was  determined  to  reach  it  some- 
how. 

On  the  7th  of  October  ice  began  to  run  in  the  river, 
and  with  its  first  appearance  the  native  pilot  insisted 
upon  starting  back  toward  his  now  distant  home.  That 
night,  amid  the  bowlings  of  a  tempest  that  threatened  to 
tear  the  Chimo  from  her  anchorage,  the  stricken  mill- 
wright died. 

When  Phil  went  to  the  engineer's  room  to  report  this 
distressing  news  he  was  filled  with  wrath  to  find  that  in- 
dividual lying  in  his  bunk  and  indulging  to  excess  in  the 
contents  of  a  case  of  brandied  peaches  that  he  had  stolen 
from  the  cargo.  Without  a  word,  Phil  picked  up  the  case 
and  flung  it  into  the  river.  "I'll  see  you  again  in  the 
morning,  sir,  when  you  are  sober,"  he  said  as  he  left  the 
room,  and  locking-  the  door  put  the  key  in  his  own  pocket. 

That  night  of  storm,  death,  and  despair  was  one  that 
neither  Phil  nor  Serge  will  ever  forget.  For  long  hours 
they  sat  by  the  bedside  of  the  Captain,  whom  they  believed 
to  be  sleeping1,  discussing  in  low  tones  their  melancholy 
situation.  Suddenly  they  were  startled  by  a  voice  from 
the  sick  man.  who  said  feebly, 

"  Get  me  to  Anvik,  boys,  if  you  can,  aud  you  will  save 
my  life." 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  spoken  rationally  for  sev- 
eral days,  and  they  had  no  idea  that  he  was  even  conscious 
of  their  presence;  but  Phil  answered,  promptly,  "All 
right.  Captain,  we'll  get  you  there,  never  fear." 

''Yes,"  added  Serge,  cheerily,  "you  may  rest  easy, sir, 
for  when  Phil  uses  that  tone  he  means  just  what  he  sa\  s, 
and  I  know  that  I've  got  to  back  him  up." 

Neither  of  the  lads  got  more  than  an  hour's  sleep  that 
night,  and  long  before  daylight  they  were  again  at  work. 
Phil  and  the  surviving  millwright  were  getlinu  up  steam, 
while'  Serge  was  taking  unusual  pains  in  preparing 
breakfast,  for  they  all  realized  that  they  must  now  lay  in 
an  extra  supply  of  strength. 


328 


HAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI- 


Not  until  breakfast  was  ready  was  Mr.  Sims  released 
from  the  confinement  of  his  room.  After  eating  his  meal 
in  sullen  silence,  he  said  to  Phil,  "Well,  young  man, 
what  do  you  propose  to  do  to-day?" 

"  I  propose  to  push  on  up  the  river  as  usual." 

"And  who  are  you  going  to  get  to  run  your  engine?" 

"I  expect  you  to  do  it,  sir." 

"Well,  you  are  expecting  a  good  deal  more  than  you'll 
get,"  cried  the  man,  rising  from  the  table  in  his  excite- 
ment. "I've  been  bullied  by  a  parcel  of  boys  just  as 
long  as  I  intend  to  be.  So  now  I  want  you  to  under- 
stand that  I'll  not  allow  the  engine  of  this  beat  to  make 
another  turn  except  to  run  her  into  winter  quarters,  and 
that's  got  to  be  done  in  a  hurry,  too." 

"  That's  exactly  what  I  mean  to  do  with  her,"  replied 
Phil,  quietly. 

"Where?" 

"  At  Anvik,  less  than  one  hundred  miles  from  here." 

"  Hundred  nothing- ["screamed  the  man.  "  You'll  put 
her  in  winter  quarters  within  ten  miles  of  this  very  spot 
or  not  at  all ;  for  you  can't  run  the  engine,  and  you 
haven't  got  a  man  aboard,  except  me,  who  can,  and  you 
know  it." 

The  furious  man  had  stepped  toward  Phil,  and  -was 
shaking  a  trembling  fist  in  the  lad's  face  as  he  shouted 
these  last  words.  Serge  stood  close  behind  him. 

Just  then  the  young  mate  nodded  his  head,  both  lads 
sprang  upon  the  man  at  once,  and  in  spite  of  his  fierce 
struggles  bore  him  to  the  deck.  In  another  moment  he 
was  securely  and  helplessly  bound. 

"How  do  we  generally  dispose  of  mutineers  aboard 
this  ship?"  asked  Phil,  as  he  regained  his  feet. 

"Set  'em  ashore,  sir,  and  leave  'em  to  shift  for  them- 
selves," answered  Serge,  grimly. 

"Very  well;  and  as  we  haven't  any  time  to  lose,  you 
may  get  the  dingy  overboard  at  once.  Call  Isaac  to 


"HERE  IS  THE  MAN  WHO  DID  THAT  THING." 


help    you,  and    tell    him    the    reason    for    this    extra 
work." 

"  You  don't  dare  do  it,"  muttered  the  prostrate  man, 
as  Serge  started  to  obey  this  order. 

"  Don't  I?"  queried  Phil.      "  If  you  think  so  you  must 
be  ignorant  of  what  constitutes  a  mutiny,  as  well  as  of 
the  powers  vested  in  the  Captain  of  a  ship." 
"  But  you  aren't  the  Captain  of  this  ship." 
"  Perhaps  I'm  not.      At  the  same  time  I  am  acting  as 
Captain  by  authority  of  the  owner,  and  I  am  performing 
all  of  a  Captain's  duties;  all  of  them,  you  understand." 

By  this  time  the  small  boat  was  alongside,  and  leaving 
the  bewildered  millwright  in  her,  Serge  regained  the  deck, 
where  he  awaited  further  instructions. 

"Select  such  of  your  belongings  as  you  wish  to  take 
with  you,  and  they  shall  be  put  into  the  boat,"  said  Phil. 
"  Oh,  rats!"  cried  the  man,  angrily. 
"  Take  hold  of  him!"  ordered  the  mate. 
Serge  obeyed,  and    in    another  minute  the  mutinous 
engineer  found   himself  in   the  small  boat,  which   was 
actually  being  shoved  off. 

"  Shall  I  hunt  a  native  village  to  leave  him  at?"  asked 
Serge. 

"No.  We  haven't  time  for  that.  Land  him  wherever 
it  happens." 

"  Look  here,  boys!"  said  the  man,  humbly,  as  he  cast  a 
shuddering  glance  over  the  icy  waters  and  at  the  bleak 
desolation  of  the  shore  beyond.  "I  weaken.  Take  me 
back,  and  I'll  go  to  work." 

"Will  you  run  the  engine  as  far  as  Anvik?" 
"  I'll  run  her  till  .you  give  the  word  to  stop." 
"And    promise  on   your  honor   not  to  touch  another 
drop  of  liquor  before  this   steamer   is  laid  up  in  winter 
quarters?" 
"Yes." 

Late  that  afternoon  a  new  bewilderment  confronted 

the  anxious  lads.  They 
were  involved  in  a  laby- 
rinth of  channels,  all  of 
about  the  same  width, 
and  apparently  pouring 
forth  equal  volumes  of 
water.  But  while  they 
all  looked  equally  invit- 
ing, only  one  was  that  of 
the  main  river;  the  oth- 
ers were  mouths  of  the 
great  Shagelook  slough, 
which  would  lead  them 
into  an  unknown  wil- 
derness. One  meant 
safety  and  the  others  dis- 
aster. But  which  was 
which? 

In  this  dilemma  Phil 
decided  to  anchor  and 
wait  for  another  daylight. 
While  they  thus  waited 
— wearied,  anxious,  and 
•welliiigh  despairing  — 
there  came  a  shout  out 
of  the  darkness  that  thrill- 
ed them  with  a  new  life, 
for  the  words  were  in 
their  own  tongue. 

' '  Steamer  ahoy !  ahoy ! 
Hello  onboard  the  steam- 
er!" rang  cheerily  from 
off  the  dark  waters. 

"Hello!  Hello!  Come 
this  way!"  answered  Phil 
from  the  pilot-house. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


THE    LONG    AND    SHORT    OF    THEM. 


OFF   FOR   A    LONG   JAUNT. 


METHODS    OF    GOING    DOWN    AND    UP    HILL. 


WHAT    SOMETIMES    HAPPENS. 


WITH     THE    SKI  =  RUNNERS. 


BY     W.    S.    H  A  R  W  O  O  D. 


WE  should  have  to  look  backward  a  long  distance  to 
find  the  place  in  history  when  skis  were  first  intro- 
duced as  a  means  of  locomotion,  and  when  we  reached 
that  point  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  we  should  find 
that  skis  were  used  long  before  history  began  to  be  made. 
It  is  a  sport  of  Norselandic  descent,  however,  that  much 
we  know,  and  has  been  for  many  centuries  one  of  the 
most  popular  pastimes  of  Norway  and  Sweden,  as  well  as 
being  a  very  important  means  of  locomotion. 

During  these  snowy  months  the  boys  who_  live  in  the 
cold  northwest  are  enjoying  the  sport  of  ski-running  to 
the  utmost.  During  the  winter  of  1894  and  1895  it  has 
been  more  popular  than  ever  before  among  the  boys. 
One  of  the  delightful  things  about  the  sport  is  that  it  may 
be  enjoyed  by  boys,  and  girls,  too,  for  that  matter,  as  well 
as  by  grown-up  men  and  women,  and  I  sometimes  think 
the  younger  ones  get  more  real  fun  out  of  it  than  their 
elders.  While  there  is  much  sport  in  the  long  jaunt 
over  the  hills  and  across  the  fields  on  the  long  slender 
skis,  there  is  even  more  fun  in  the  rapid  descent  of  the 
high  hills  down  which  the  boys  go  nt  a  tremendous  rate 


of  speed.  The  hill  running  has  also  the  spice  of  danger 
which  every  boy  enjoys,  though  it  is,  where  due  caution 
is  taken,  nothing  but  a  spice. 

Sometimes  the  boys  imitate  the  regular  sport  of  the 
older  ones,  and  build  midway  in  the  hill  an  embankment 
from  which  they  jump  in  their  flight  down  the  hill,  but 
this,  as  a  rule,  approaches  pretty  close  to  a  danger  line 
which  ought  not  to  be  drawn  in  any  sport  for  boys.  A 
low  "precipe1'  as  it  is  called  may  be  made  near  the 
bottom  of  a  long  hill,  where  there  is  an  abundance  of 
soft  snow  in  which  to  fall,  but  to  build  a  precipe  in  the 
middle  distance  of  a  steep  hill  is  to  invite  broken  legs. 

The  skis  are  narrow,  thin,  long  strips  of  wood  about 
four  or  five  inches  in  width,  perhaps  a  half-inch  in  thick- 
ness, and  say  four  to  six  feet  long,  according  to  the  size 
of  the  boy.  A  single  piece  of  leather  just  large  enon^li 
to  come  over  the  foot  at  the  instep  is  the  only  fastening-. 
It  would  be  disastrous,  and  even  dangerous,  to  tie  or 
strap  the  skis  onto  the  foot,  for  no  matter  how  skilful  a 
boy  may  be,  he  is  bound  to  get  many  a  throw,  and  if  the 
skis  were  fastened  onto  his  feet,  he  would  be  very  likely 


330 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


to  get  seriously  injured.  Some  of  the  skis  the  boys  use 
are  home-made  affairs,  and  these  can  be  made  to  do  ex- 
cellent service,  but  the  better  way,  if  it  can  be  afforded, 
is  to  buy  them  of  some  sporting-  goods  dealer,  of  whom 
they  can  be  purchased  at  a  very  reasonable  price. 

Many  a  time  along-  near  twelve  o'clock  noon,  in  these 
sharp,  snowy  days  I  go  to  my  window  looking  out  upon 
a  steep  little  hill  and  a  long,  snow -carpeted  park,  and 
watch  the  boys  as  they  come  speeding  down  the  hill  on 
their  way  home  from  school.  It  would  make  your  blood 
tingle  if  you  were  among  them,  for  there  is  something  in 
this  splendid  winter  air  which  stirs  the  heart  to  quicker- 
action,  and  something  in  the  sport  of  ski-running  which 
is  a  continual  fascination  from  the  time  it  begins  along 
in  early  November,  until  tbe  last  run  is  made  along  in 
the  early  days  of  April,  or  perhaps  at  the  close  of  March. 
I  can  see  them  come  down  the  hill  at  a  rate  that  would 
take  the  breath  away  from  a  boy  who  had  never  tried  it, 
dodging  in  and  out  among  the  oak-trees,  some  of  them 
tumbling  in  an  apparently  inextricable  mass  in  the  deep 
snow,  laughing  and  crying  out  with  glee,  their  cheeks 
red  as  the  blood  in  their  bounding  veins,  a  merry  crowd, 
enjoying  one  of  the  most  interesting  sports  of  a  part  of 
the  country  splendidly  stocked  with  out-door  opportuni- 
ties for  fun.  Sometimes  they  will  congregate  at  the 
edge  of  the  park  after  a  spirited  run  down  the  hill,  and 
away  they  will  go  across  the  park  in  a  quite  soldierly  pla- 
toon; sometimes  they  will  take  long  trips  in  a  body  of 
ten  or  twelve  in  the  country  round  about;  sometimes 
they  will  go  back  to  the  hill  as  the  most  interesting  place, 
but  wherever  they  go  they  are  adding  new  strength  to 
their  limbs  and  fresher  blood  to  their  veins  by  this  health- 
ful and  exhilarating  sport. 


SEA-GULL   DICK,  OF  BKENTONS  EEEF. 

"  "V7OU  need  riot  tell  me.  that  sea-gulls  have  no  sense,"  said 
JL  an  old  Rhode  Island  salt  to  half  a  dozen  boys  who  were 
out  flshiug  with  him  near  Newport  one  day  last  summer.  '-I 
know  of  one  sea-gull,  because  I've  seen  him  for  years  who  has 
as  much  good  sound  common-sense  as  aii3T  dog  or  hoi-se  or  other 
animal  that  you  cau  name.  That's  Sea-gull  Dick,  the  Brentons 
Reef  Light-ship  bird.  He  first  appeared  at  the  light-ship  twenty- 
three  years  ago,  and  each  winter  since  then  he  has  made  his 
home  there.  He  comes  regularly  every  October  and  leaves 
early  in  March.  There's  no  romance  about  what  I'm  telling  you 
here ;  it's  all  absolutely  true. 

"He  came  aloug  one  day  apparently  nearly  starved,  and  flew 
about  the  ship  until  he  attracted  attention.  The  cook  brought 
out  a  plate  of  food  and  set  it  on  the  rail.  The  gull  alighted  and 
ate  ravenously,  and  every  winter  since  he  has  enjoyed  the  hos- 
pitality of  the  ship.  Before  he  became  tame  several  attempts 
were  made  to  catch  him,  but  none  succeeded,  and  now  the  sailors 
would  not  think  of  permitting  anyone  to  snare  Dick.  The  gull 
remains  most  of  the  time  aboard  the  ship,  and  the  men  have  ar- 
ranged every  comfort  for  him, including  perches  on  the  masts 
and  along  the  rails.  He  takes  frequent  short  flights,  never  go- 
ing out  of  sight  of  the  ship,  and  swims  around  in  the  water  for 
hours.  But  no  matter  when-  he-  may  lie,  instinct  always  tells 
him  when  it  is  meal-time,  and  he  regularly  responds  with  the 
men  to  the  cook's  call,  taking  his  full  three  meals  a  day. 

"The  cook,  of  course,  is  Dick's  favorite,  since  he  feeds  him, 
and  the  bird  will  answer  ti>  a  call  from  the  cook  just  as  a  dog 
will  come  to  his  master.  Three  years  aiv>  the  cook  fell  ill  and 
had  I"  IMI  ashore  for  a  week  for  medical  treatment.  The  substi- 
tute cook  did  not  pay  much  attention  to  Dick,  and  so  the  gull 
did  not  get.  liis  meals  very  regularly.  At  length  the.  cook  recov- 
ered and  made  his  way  off  t<>  t  he  ship.  Dick  saw  the  small  boat 
coming  when  it  was  still  at  a  yivat.  distance  from  the  li^ht-ship, 
and  evidently  recognized  his  friend.  He  uttered  a  series  of  lond 
screeches  that  brought  all  hands  on  deck,  and  then  he  flew  out 
to  the  approaching  boat  and  accompanied -it  all  the  way,  still 
continuing  his  screeches  of  delight.  If  you  do  not  believe  this 
tale  of  the  intelligent,  gull,  ji"  out  to  the  light-ship  on  Brentons 
Reef  some  time  after  November  and  you  can  see  Dick  for  your- 
selves." 


GRANDMA-LAND. 

rilHERE'S  a  wonderful  country  far  away, 
-L     And  its  name  is  Grandma-Laud  ; 
'Tis  a  beautiful,  glorious,  witching  place 
With  grandmas  on  every  hand. 

Everywhere  you  may  look  or  go, 
Everywhere   that   the   breezes  blow, 
Just  grandmammas!     Just  grandmammas! 

In  this  wonderful  country  far  away 

Where  grandmammas  abide, 
In  this  beautiful,  witching  Grandma-Land 
The  Good  Things  wait  on  every  side — 
Jam  and  jelly-cake  heaped  in  piles; 
Tarts  and  candy 'round  for  miles: 
Just  Good  Things  here!     Just  Good  Things  there! 

In  this  wonderful  country  far,  afar, 

Where  blow  the  candy  breezes, 
In   this  beautiful,  glorious  pudding-land 
Each   child  does  just  as  he  pleases. 

All  through  the  night,  all  through  (he  day, 
Every  single  child  has  his  way. 
Each  his  own  way  !     Just  as  he  pleases ! 

In  this  wonderful  country  far  away  — 

lu  this  gorgeous  grandma  clime — 
When  tired  children  cau  eat  no  more. 
There  are  stories  of  "Once  on  a  Time." 
Stories  are  told  and  songs  are  sung, 
Of  when  the  grandmammas  were  young. — 
"  Once  on  a  Time!"     "  Well,  Let  me  see!" 

To  this  wonderful  country  far,  afar, 

Where  only  Good  Things  stay, 
To  this  beautiful,  glorious  Grandma-Laud 
Good  children  only  find  the  way. 

But  wheii  they  sleep  and  when  they  dream 
Away  they  float  on  the  gliding  stream 
To  Grandma-Laud!     To  Grandma-Land! 

HAYDEN  CARRUTH. 


HOW   TO  GET  ON   IN   LIFE. 

THE    GIRL    WHO    COMES   TO    THE   CITY 
TO    STUDY    ART. 

BY    CLARA    B.    CAHILL. 

A  GIRL  who  has  made  up  her  mind  to  go  to  New 
York  to  study  art  is  not  to  be  deterred  by  the  usual 
difficulties  which  confront  a  new  experience,  and  yet  it 
takes  a  girl  of  considerable  determination  and  spirit  to 
enter  a  city  which  is  perhaps  unknown  to  her,  and  to  de- 
cide for  herself  as  to  the  best  way  of  living  and  studying 
while  there.  Sometimes  a  girl  thinks  if  she  could  only 
talk  to  some  other  girl  who  had  been  through  this  much- 
desired  experience,  what  a  help  it  would  be!  She  could 
then  decide  on  some  definite  plans  for  herself.  So  if  I 
think  back  on  what  I  had  to  do,  and  what  I  did,  and 
others  did,  some  other  girl  may  find  it  a  simpler  matter 
to  carry  out  her  plans. 

The  greater  art  schools  of  New  York  do  not  advertise 
much,  except  through  the  work  of  their  pupils,  so  it  is  no 
easy  matter  to  find  out  about  them  except  by  knowing 
their  addresses  and  sending  for  circulars.  The  janitor 
of  the  new  art  building  on  West  Fifty-seventh  Street, 
where  are  gathered  many  of  the  best  schools,  will  send 
you  circulars  of  all  of  these.  Then  there  is  the  Metro- 
politan School  of  Art,  in  Central  Park,  which  is  even 
nearer  the  art  galleries.  Be  sure,  when  you  have  de- 
cided on  your  school,  that  you  know  the  requirements 
for  admission,  and  apply  several  months  before  the  school 
opens,  because  the  schools  are  quite  apt  to  be  overcrowded 
by  applicants. 


MARCH  12,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


331 


I  had  studied  before,  in  Cincinnati,  and  so  the  Art 
Students'  League,  now  at  215  West  Fifty-seventh  Street, 
was  naturally  the  Mecca  of  my  dreams,  as  it  is  that  of  all 
students  of  lesser  schools.  Just  to  read  over  the  great 
names  on  the  circulars  used  to  send  thrills  all  over  me, 
and  make  my  heart  beat  faster,  and  this  feeling  never 
lessens  as  you  come  in  contact  with  the  school.  A  kind 
of  glorious  despair  settles  down  on  you  as  you  think 
what  they  have  done  and  you  have  not.  A  circular 
seen  years  after  brings  that  same  sort  of  ache. 

A  school  in  New  York  is  much  better  than  a  school  in 
Pans,  because  the  men  in  America  respect  the  freedom 
of  women  so  much  more.  When  I  was  in  Paris  I  made 
careful  inquiries  of  the  students,  both  men  and  women, 
and  they  contended  that  Paris  was  not  as  good  as  New 
York  for  young  women  to  study  in,  except  for  the  art 
galleries;  the  instruction  was  no  better,  and  there  was  so 
much  to  contend  with. 

I  arrived  in  New  York  on  the  anniversary  of  the  day 
that  Columbus  discovered  America,  and  as  I  stepped 
proudly  down  off  the  Pullman  car  I  am  sure  I  thought  of 
him  with  most  sympathetic  emotion.  It  occurred  to  me 
to  be  mildly  surprised  that  the  cabmen  did  not  throw  up 
their  arms,  and  shout  wildly,  "  We  are  discovered !"  as  the 
early  Americans  did  in  the  time-honored  joke  of  the  play. 
Instead,  however,  they  seemed  to  take  the  initiative  and 
discover  me.  As  there  was  no  one  to  meet  me,  and  the 
town  was  all  quite  new  to  me,  I  allowed  myself  to  be 
hurried  into  a  hansom,  and  we  drove  away. 

We  began  to  go  slowly  in  front  of  some  houses  near 
Madison  Square,  and  I  noticed  the  steps  of  one  of  them 
were  being  washed  by  an  individual  in  evening  dress. 
We  stopped  in  front  of  this,  and  then  I  noticed  that  his 
countenance  was  pale  and  careworn,  and  his  shirt  front 
adorned  rather  by  gravy  than  by  diamonds.  It  was  in 
this  house,  as  much  like  the  other  houses  in  the  block  as 
one  chocolate  cream  is  like  the  other  chocolates  in  a  bag, 
that  I  had  come  to  stay ;  for  it  seemed  that  I  was  expected  : 
the  man  had  my  bag,  and  I  was  soon  climbing  stairs  and 
stairs  (after  all,  that  is  only  two  flights !),  and  soon  stopped 
before  the  third-floor  front. 

And  now  let  me  warn  all  my  friends  against  the  ordi- 
nary, dismal,  hall  bedroom.  Though  I  stepped  as  hea- 
vily on  my  heels  as  possible,  in  order  to  simulate  a 
bold  tread,  though  I  held  my  head  high  and  remembered 
the  advantages  I  had  come  to  enjoy,  still  that  hall  bed- 
room struck  terror  to  my  soul. 

It  was  very  small,  and  filled  with  very  large  furniture. 
The  head-board  of  the  bed  and  the  carved  frame  of  the 
tall  mirror  seemed  to  vie  with  each  other  in  black- walnut 
hideousness.  The  wardrobe  suggested  itself  as  a  suitable 
place  for  incarcerating  frivolous  gowns,  with  a  view  to 
their  ultimate  conversion  into  sackcloth  and  ashes. 

The  dado  round  the  room  seemed,  from  my  slight 
knowledge  of  the  subject,  to  be  one  kind  of  bacteria,  the 
genus  tuberculosis,  gambling  with  another  kind  of  bac- 
teria, whose  form  I  had  seen  in  text-books,  but  whose 
name  I  could  not  remember.  Altogether,  I  never  grew 
fond  of  this  room,  though  for  its  gloomy  shelter  and  board 
downstairs  I  paid  ten  dollars  weekly.  Any  art  student 
who  does  that  in  New  York  is  considered  purseproud. 
Any  more  than  that  is  considered  positively  vulgar.  "  The 
idea  of  pay  ing  that  much  for  hash  !"  is  the  scorn  ful  thought, 
spoken,  or  unexpressed,  that  flits  through  every  rational 
student's  mind  on  hearing  of  your  extravagance. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  one  can  get  very  good  board  and 
lodging,  though  not  usually  without  a  roommate,  or  per- 
haps two,  for  flve  dollars  a  week  at  what  are  almost 
exclusively  students'  boarding  -  places  near  the  school. 
These  can  be  found  out  about  by  writing  to  the  curator 
of  the  school  you  decide  to  adopt  for  particulars.  Any 
lodging  or  boarding  house  so  recommended  would  be  at 
least  a  suitable  place  to  stay  while  looking  about  in  the 


city  for  permanent  arrangements.  The  fact  that  the 
house  is  full  of  students  will  be  an  advantage  in  giving 
you  companions  and  acquaintances  from  whom  to  choose 
friends.  Those  at  the  school  are  rather  long  in  making 
of  the  right  kind,  for  every  one  is  so  busy.  It  is  an 
oligarchy  governed  by  an  aristocracy  of  talent.  Rags 
do  not  count  for  anything,  even  the  other  evidences  of 
poverty,  if  one  has  talent;  and  if  you  have  not  talent  in 
some  degree  you  have  to  be  very  agreeable  indeed  to  have 
that  forgiven  you  if  you  still  persist  in  studying.  There 
seem  to  be  no  petty  jealousies  in  the  larger  schools;  each 
is  proud  that  one  of  their  number  has  so  much  ability. 

I  well  remember  my  first  day  in  the  Art  Students' 
League.  It  was  when  the  students  were  in  their  old 
quarters  on  Twenty-third  Street,  over  a  livery-stable,  and 
quite  as  dirty  and  picturesque  as  the  traditional  garret, 
that  I  first  climbed  those  stairs.  I  began  to  get  comfort- 
able as  soon  as  I  was  consigned  to  Thomas.  I  do  not 
know  if  he  is  there  now,  but  he  used  to  be;  a  something 
more  than  janitor,  one  might  almost  say  proprietor  of 
the  League,  and  as  much  a  part  of  the  institution  as  the 
casts  upon  the  walls  or  the  brown  sacking  partitions.  He 
had  such  a  cheering,  delightful  way  with  him  ;  he  seemed 
to  believe  in  you,  and  know  why  you  had  come. 

I  had  sent  in  drawings  that  sent  me  into  the  Antique 
Class,  and  there  Thomas  gave  me  an  easel  and  chair, 
and  I  arranged  my  paper  on  the  back  of  my  portfolio. 
I  had  bought  what  things  I  needed  in  the  little  shop 
connected  with  the  school,  and  began  to  draw.  As  I 
was  a  new  pupil,  I  noticed  the  other  students  stealthily 
observing  my  movements.  As  I  had  done  very  little  cast 
drawing,  and  that  by  what  is  known  as  the  Munich 
method  of  putting  in  all  details,  I  was  at  a  loss  to  know 
how  to  make  drawings  like  those  all  about  me.  I  finally 
concluded  I  would  just  draw  the  best  I  could — have  an 
outline  there,  anyway.  I  was  interested  in  the  head  of 
Cicero  hanging  on  the  wall,  and  began  that.  After  I 
had  gotten  the  outline,  I  felt  obliged  to  put  in  some 
shading.  I  tried  to  make  niy  drawing  like  the  others, 
but  failed.  One  or  two  people  stopped  and  looked  over 
my  shoulder  as  who  should  say,  "What  is  she  trying  to 
get  at?"  But  I  went  on  undaunted. 

The  next  day  I  heard  a  perfectly  clear  decisive  voice 
behind  the  next  partition,  where  before  had  been  only 
subdued  murmurs.  "Miss  Jones,"  it  was  saying,  "your 
nose  is  all  wrong,  too  long,  and  not  well  put  on;  your 
mouth  is  too  large;  your  ears  are  all  out  of  drawing. 
In  fact,  I  think  that  you  had  better  try  to  have  a  new 
head  for  me  by  Friday  morning-.'.'  This  was  the  way 
I  knew  that  Mr.  Beckwith  had  arrived.  The  instructors 
came  Tuesdays  and  Fridays. 

It  seemed  terribly  personal  what  he  was  saying,  and  I 
shudderingly  awaited  his  arrival.  When  he  came  to  me 
I  rose  precipitately,  knocking  over  all  the  boxes  of  char- 
coal that  were  within  range,  and  stood  behind  my  chair, 
while  he  sat  down.  After  a  while  I  gathered  my  voice 
together  and  told  him  of  my  disadvantage.  Perhaps  the 
pathos  in.  my  tones  induced  him  to  be  kind  and  to  give 
me  a  little  lecture,  the  gist  of  which  was  to  work  as  it 
was  natural  for  you  to  work. 

This  theory  having  led  me  into  much  trouble,  I  advise 
every  beginner  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  it,  unless  she 
has  a  manner  of  working  which  is  uniformly  better  than 
that  academic  style  which  she  encounters  in  the  school. 
One  of  the  finest  things  about  a  really  good  school  in 
New  York  is  that  it  brings  you  in  contact  with  people 
of  positive  talent  and  even  genius,  and  you  see 
work,  and  it  encourages  you,  and  helps  you,  and  you 
would  not  give  up  this  privilege  for  any  other. 

After  several  months  I  went  to  live  with  three  other 
girls  in  a  small  flat  in  an  apartment-house  on  Twenty- 
third  Street,  between  Third  and  Fourth  avenues.  It  real- 
ly was  a  most  disreputable  neighborhood,  speaking  of  it 


332 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


generally,  and  yet  there  was  a  quiet  place  here  for  this 
one  block. 

We  were  opposite  a  church,  and  the  block  was 
full  of  old  houses  with  a  subdued  Sunday  look  on 
their  faces,  though  all  about  us  on  the  nearest  avenues 
the  heathen,  we  well  knew,  were  raging.  In  the  morn- 
ing one  of  us  used  to  get  breakfast — we  took  our  lunch- 
eons with  us — another  would  get  dinner,  and  the  other 
two  would  wash  and  wipe  the  dishes.  In  this  flat,  which 
was  only  twenty  dollars  a  month,  we  had  a  small  kitch- 
en and  four  other  rooms,  which  we  divided  into  two  bed- 
rooms, a  dining-room,  and  a  living-room,  which  was  most- 
ly studio.  Here  we  could  take  our  picturesque  beggars  to 
pose  without  fear  of  a  justly  incensed  landlady ;  here  we 
could  pose  for  each  other  when  we  felt  amiable,  and  in 
even  the  gayest  hall  bedroom  there  is,  of  course,  a  com- 
plete lack  of  perspective. 

I  will  tell  you  how  we  furnished  our  flat.  We  painted 
all  the  floors  dark  red,  and  put  rugs  down.  We  were 
specialists  in  rugs.  We  could  get  beauties  for  a  few  dol- 
lars apiece — Japanese,  goat-skins,  and  other  kinds  made 
of  a  solid  colored  carpeting,  fringed  at  the  ends. 

Divans  were  also  our 
forte.  You  might  be 
surprised  to  see  so  many 
divans  in  a  house,  until 
you  poked  around  and 
discovered  that  they  all 
had  sterner  duties  in 
life.  Each  bedroom 
had  a  corner  divan  like 
an  irregular  letter  V. 
These  were  cot  -  beds, 
in  disguise  for  the  day- 
time with  various  Ori- 
ental covers,  placed 
with  their  feet  together 
and  their  heads  wide 
apart  to  outline  the 
wall.  Other  window 
seats  and  divans  were 
found  to  be  made  of 
large  wooden  shoe 
boxes,  which  had  hinges 
put  on  their  covers, 
and  army,  or  camel, 
blankets  thrown  over 
them.  Here  we  kept 
our  best  clothes,  so  we 
used  to  try  to  get  dress- 
ed before  any  company 
came  and  sat  on  them. 

Each  girl  bought  the  chair  she  liked  best,  considering 
the  state  of  her  pocket-money,  and  the  rest  of  the  chairs 
•were  camp-stools,  with  backs  and  without.  We  were  al- 
ways picking  up  bargains  in  bookshelves,  books,  and  little 
unframed  etchings,  which  soon,  with  our  sketches  and 
plaster  casts  hanging  against  the  wall,  gave  a  most  satis- 
fying and  homelike  look  to  the  room. 

And  yet  we  were  living  in  one  of  the  cheapest  flats,  in 
a  neighborhood  whose  chief  virtue  was  its  nearness  to 
the  school,  and  were  spending  as  little  money  as  pos- 
sible outside  of  the  expenses  of  the  school.  There  were 
beautiful  flats  to  be  gotten  for  various  not  very  extrava- 
gant sums  a  month  in  various  quarters  of  the  town,  and 
by  keeping  track  of  the  advertisements  in  the  Sunday 
papers  we  afterwards  found  one  where  we  had  a  much 
better  studio.  But  one  can  live  anywhere  when  one  has 
companions  who  are  willing  to  make  the  best  of  things 
for  the  sake  of  the  end. 

We  used  to  see  what  we  saw  of  the  theatre  or  the  opera 
at  matinees  usually,  sometimes  in  the  topmost  galleries. 
If  we  felt  rich,  in  good  seats.  We  never  were  deterred 


A    SKETCHING    CLASS    IN    A    NEW    YORK    ART    SCHOOL. 


from  going  by  the  expense.      We  simply  took  a  seat  fur- 
ther and  further  back. 

At  one  time  I  remember  we  were  somewhat  in  perplex- 
ity because  one  of  the  plays  that  we  wished  to  see  most 
was  put  on  only  in  the  evening.  There  are  for  those 
girls  who  have  plenty  of  pocket-money,  and  no  older 
friend  to  escort  them,  chaperons  to  rent.  Their  signs 
are  posted  up  in  the  various  schools,  and  they  are  all 
very  highly  recommended. 

Two  or  three  times  a  year  whole  colonies  of  artists  will 
throw  open  their  studios  simultaneously  for  a  reception, 
so  that  you  can  go  about,  and  not  only  see  the  work- 
shops of  these  great  persons,  but  stand  shyly  by  while 
they  are  talking  to  other  great  persons;  and  see  their  pic- 
tures and  busts,  and  their  wives  and  children,  or,  perhaps, 
their  favorite  model  quite  in  their  proper  element.  You 
get  very  tired  doing  this,  climbing  up  stairs  and  more 
stairs,  for  there  is  seldom  an  elevator,  and  the  studios  are 
all  under  the  skylights.  But  you  would  not  give  up  this 
privilege  either. 

Up  and  down  Fifth  Avenue  and  Broadway  there  are 
generally  to  be  seen  at  least  one  exhibition  of  good  pic- 
tures, especially  in  the 
spring,  and  yam-  stu- 
dent's ticket  usually 
admits  you  to  these. 

The  question  of  em- 
ployment, or  of  making 
money  while  you  are 
studying  in  New  York 
in  any  way,  has  been 
solved  by  a  few  of  the 
students.  Some  of 
them  make  a  little  out- 
side money  by  decora- 
tive work  for  the  ex- 
changes. Some,  famil- 
iar with  wood -carving, 
have  work  always  on 
hand  for  the  furniture- 
houses.  There  are 
places  where  the  stu- 
dent in  modelling  may 
make  money  by  mod- 
elling in  staff  the  friezes 
and  designs  for  great 
buildings.  But  if  they 
should  do  this,  they 
must  give  up  their  en- 
tire days  to  it,  until  they 
have  finished  what  they 
have  begun.  Many  stu- 
dents do  the  very  clever  advertisements  that  are  in  such 
demand  at  present,  and  occasionally  the  prices  paid  for 
these  are  very  high. 

Sometimes  a  girl  makes  some  money  at  holiday-time 
by  illustrating  with  pen  and  ink  or  water-color  sketches 
some  wide-margined  book;  these  sell  readily  for  gifts  at 
Christmas-time. 

If  you  are  so  inclined,  in  New  York,  you  could  make 
your  expenses  outside  of  tuition  come  quite  comfortably 
into  thirty  dollars  a  month,  if  you  do  not  room  alone. 

Some  of  the  largest  art  schools,  as  the  Academy, 
"Cooper's,"  and  the  Metropolitan,  are  practically  free, 
charging  only  a  nominal  sum  for  admission.  If  you 
should  be  in  two  classes  at  the  Art  Students'  League,  you 
can  perceive,  by  comparing  their  circular  with  the  others, 
that  it  would  involve  probably  one  hundred  dollars  more 
for  tuition. 

If  you  have  the  will  to  learn  you  can  gain  a  great  deal 
in  almost  any  recognized  art  school  in  New  York,  :md 
you  will  find  the  same  instructors  in  many  of  the  classes 
of  the  different  schools. 


JULE'S     GARDEN. 

BY     HARRIET     PRE  SCOTT     SI'OFFORD. 


0' 


there  he  is!  Look — across  the  river!  He's  go- 
ing- to  take  the  barn!  It's  the  minister  with  his 
camera.  Oh!  And  with  so  many  places,  to  take  that, 
the  ugliest  spot  on  the  whole  point!"  And  she  began  to 
twist  her  curls,  a  sure  sign  of  distress  with  little  Jule. 

"It's  the  gobbler  he's  taking,"  said  Jack. 

"  But  it  brings  ill  the  bam  and  the  hen-yard  all  the 
same." 

"All  the  same,  Sis,  you  feel  the  disgrace  of  handing 
that  hen-yard  down  to  posterity,"  said  Mr.  Jack,  pulling 
in  his  line,  with  nothing  on  it.  There  never  was  any- 
thing on  it. 

"Oh,  Jack,"  cried  Jule,  "you  might  make  that  place 
decent." 

"I  might  go  up  in  a  balloon,"  said  Jack,  jerking  his 
sinker.  The  sun  shone,  the  wind  was  sweet  with  the 
smell  of  new  furrows  and  leafy  things;  softly  the  sound 
of  a  hurdy-gurdy  came  from  the  distance;  and  Jack  was 
too  comfortable  to  bother  himself  about  hens  and  hen- 
yards. 

She  had  thought  so  often,  when  her  father  or  Tom 
rowed  her  on  the  river,  it  was  such  a  pity  that  spot 
should  be  given  up  to  hens.  She  had  an  instinctive  dis- 
like of  hens;  she  felt  there  must  be  an  untouchable 
roughness  about  their  feathers,  the  thought  of  which  set 
her  teeth  on  edge;  and,  moreover,  she  was  mortally 
afraid  of  them  ;  an  old  mother-hen  had  flown  in  her 
face  once  on  some  provocation,  and  had  finished  for  Jule 
the  whole  hen  family.  How  lovely  that  bank  would  be 
with  terraces  and  rock-work  and  geraniums  and  beds  of 
poppies!  She  had  said  so  to  Tom,  but  he  had  pooh- 
poohed;  and  her  mother  thought  it  would  be  too  much 
trouble;  and  her  father  said  the  men  were  busy.  One 
clay  indeed,  a  year  ago,  she  had  opened  the  gate  in  the 


lath  fence,  and  had  flirted  her  handkerchief  and  shooed, 
her  heart  beating  furiously,  and  had  reached  in  with  her 
trowel,  digging  a  hole  into  which  she  hud  dropped  a 
root  of  violets,  pressed  it  down,  poured  some  water  over 
it,  shooing  all  the  time,  and  had  shut  the  gale  and  run. 
The  hens  ran  too;  and  in  live  minutes  there  wasn't  a 
shred  of  that  violet  left. 

However,  there  were  more  things  in  life  than  gardens. 
There  were  her  lessons  to  be  learned,  and  the  socks  to  be 
knit,  and  the  loaf  of  bread  to  be  taken  to  Mrs.  Nourse's, 
where  Danny  was  bemoaning  the  hard  fate  that  had 
taken  off  his  left  hand,  and  would  oblige  him  to  wear  a 
hook,  when  so  little  money  would  buy  him  an  artificial 
hand,  he  who  must  earn  his  own  living  by  the  work  of 
his  hands.  "  Father  hasn't  any  money,  or  he  would  give 
it  to  Danny.  And  there  isn't  any  way  in  which  I  can 
earn  a  nickel.  It  is  dreadful  to  be  useless,"  sighetl  Jule. 

Poor  Danny  really  needed  his  hand,  for  his  head  was 
of  little  use  to  him.  Jule  had  happened  to  be  at  his 
grandmother's  when  the  operation  was  taking  place,  and 
there  being  no  one  else  to  do  it,  had  held  his  other  hand 
while  he  took  the  ether;  and  she  felt  afterwards  a  great 
interest  in  his  recovery,  and  was  almost  unhappy  to 
think  that,  do  what  she  would,  she  could  not  raise  money 
for  an  artificial  hand  to  help  him  to  a  livelihood. 

"Well,"  thought  Jule,  as  she  left  Jack  on  his  rock, 
"  if  I  can't  get  any  one  to  see  to  that  place,  I  can't."  But 
she  paused  at  the  hen-yard,  and  looked  wistfully  through 
the  fence— there  was  not  a  hen  in  the  place!  They  had 
all  gone  up  their  slatted  walk  into  the  upper  yard,  where 
Tom  was  scattering  corn.  What  an  inspiration  came  to 
Jule  that  minute,  what  courage!  Her  heart  beat  in  her 
throat,  but  she  opened  the  little  lath  gate,  stepped  across, 
ran  like  the  wind  across  the  hen-yard  and  up  the  rocks, 


334 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


and  drew  a  loose  board  over  the  little  door  made  for  the 
hens.  "Now  you're  there,  you  stay  there,"  she  said,  for 
the  large  upper  run  was  really  quite  enough  for  them. 
A  young-  rooster  crowed  insultingly  at  that,  and  another 
took  up  the  tale,  and  Jule  scampered  as  if  a  whole  flight 
of  cockerels  were  after  her. 

But  presently,  summoning  up  courage,  she  took  a  sur- 
vey of  the  premises— a  dingle  between  two  bluffs  sloping 
from  the  river  to  the  barn  at  a  height  above;  at  the  base 
of  the  barn  a  stone  pig-pen,  whose  wall  was  six  feet  high. 
The  barnyard  heap  was  no  longer  thrown  down  there, 
but  a  bulkhead  had  once  been  built  below  to  keep  the 
compost  from  washing  into  the  river.  "Woodbine — and 
there's  plenty  in  the  woods — could  grow  over  the  back  of 
that  barn,"  thought  Jule,  "  and  the  Boston  ivy,  if  I  could 
get  some,  would  cover  the  pig -pen  like  a  mat.  Oh, 
wouldn't  it  be  lovely!"  And  then  she  looked  in  despair 
at  the  earth  the  hens  had  scratched  bare,  the  heaps  of 
stones,  the  impossible  confusion  of  boards  and  cans  and 
bottles.  "  I'll  try,"  she  exclaimed,  presently. 

"  Oh,  Danny,  would  you  mind  coming' out  to  the  Falls 
woods?"  she  asked,  a  little  later. 

"  Dade,  thin.  I  wud."  said  Danny,  "an'  be  glad  in  me 
sowl,  sol  wud."  And  they  came  home  in  an  hour  with 
baskets  of  wild  woodbine  roots  and  sweet-briers;  and 
Danny's  one  hand  and  Jule's  two  disposed  them  at  the 
barn  corners,  and  by  the  big  bowlders  at  the  dingle-side. 

"Now,"  said  Jule,  having  watered  them  thoroughly, 
"the  ladies  in  the  brick  house  downtown  may  give  us 
some  slips  of  their  Boston  ivy,  and  they'll  make  a  beau- 
tiful green  wall  of  the  pig -pen.  In  time,  you  know, 
Danny." 

Then  Jule  went  in  and  knit  at  her  sock.  "Mother 
dear,"  said  she,  "can't  I  have  the  bulbs  the  dahlias  in 
the  front  yard  made  last  year?" 

"  The  bulbs?"  said  her  mother,  pinching  her  pastry. 
"What  for?" 

"Oh,  I  know!"  said  Jule. 

"  Mis'  Nourse  won't  care  about  a  garden.  But  you  can 
have  'em,  I  guess." 

And  the  next  day  the  Boston  ivy  and  the  dahlias  were 
in  place,  and  Jule  and  Danny  had  fastened  the  board 
against  the  hens,  and  had  nailed  pickets  at  the  top  of  the 
fence  there,  two  of  the  Virginia  -  creepers  being  set  to 
climb  over  the  fence  eventually  and  hide  it  altogether. 
"  Oh,"  cried  Jule,  "I  am  going  to  make  the  wilderness 
blossom  like  a  rose!"  And  then  the  two  little  people 
began  to  toil  over  the  road  from  the  ploughed  fields  with 
baskets  of  earth  that  they  tumbled  into  the  crannies  and 
along  the  slope.  And  they  laboriously  brought  up  stones 
from  the  shore  day  after  day,  and  slowly  made  a  rude 
wall  below  the  pig-pen,  filling  it  with  earth. 

"They  do  be  sayin',"  remarked  Danny,  "  that  the  min 
out  there  to  Washington,  or  whereiver,  has  the  givin'  o' 
flower-sades  be  the  peck,  good  looclc  till  'em,  an'  ye  can 
have  thim  for  the  askin'.  Sorra  a  bit  me  knows." 

That  night  Jule  found  who  was  her  member  of  Con- 
gress,-and  the  reply  to  her  modest  request  came,  to  the 
wonderment  of  the  family,  as  a  package  addressed  to 
Miss  Julia  Spencer,  and  containing,  she  fancied,  the  seeds 
of  half  the  flowers  that  blow.  "Oil.  here  are  larkspurs!" 
she  cried.  "You  know  how  tall  and  blue  they  are.  And 
slocks,  and  phlox,  and  feverfew,  and  marigolds,  and  can- 
dytuft, oh,  and  nasturtiums!  Sweet  alyssum,  too,  and 
balsam,  and  salvia,  and  cosmos,  and  morning-glories,  oh, 
and  hollyhocks!  How  perfectly  delightful!" 

"  That's  what  your  country  does  for  you,"  said  Jack. 

"It's  a  dear  country!"  cried  Jule.  And  the  frost  be- 
ing gone,  it  took  only  a  day  to  sow  the  terrace-bed  in 
plots.  Then  they  picked  up  and  raked  and  spaded  in 
comfort  on  the  incline  towards  the  bulkhead.  "The 
great  beds  of  poppies  there  will  be  so  splendid  from  the 
river!"  cried  Jule. 


"The  tides  '11  be  drowndin'  thim  out  intirely,  so  they 
will,  lUiss  Jule,"  said  Danny. 

"But  it  won't  hurt  them." 

"They'll  be  afther  fiowerin'  in  the  islands  of  the  dape 
say." 

"  I'll  risk  it,"  said  Jule.      "  I'll  drop  the  seeds." 

"  An'  the  next  high  tide  '11  be  doin'  the  rest,"  .said  Dan- 
ny. And  it  did. 

Then  they  sowed  nasturtiums  by  the  fence  where  she 
used  to  have  the  horrible  vision  of  the  hens.  "You  hold 
the  string  for  their  climbing,  Danny,  till  I  tie  it.  I'll  put 
in  the  stick.  Now  another.  I  tell  you,  it  tires  your  hack! 
But  when  it's  a  gold  and  scarlet  curtain  here,  won't  it  be 
glorious?  Oh!  can't  you  see  it,  splendid  with  dew,  and 
the  sun  shining  on  it:''' 

After  this  there  were  morning-glories  sowed  on  the 
other  upper  side,  till  the  woodbine  should  be  grown  next 
year.  And  what  joy  it  was  to  watch  those  woodbines  for 
their  first  pout  !  Jule  gave  them  water  morning  and 
night.  "Oh,  they're  alive!"  she  shouted;  and  she  sat 
down  before  the  first  buds  and  warbled  little  songs  of 
joy. 

Jule  l">d  some  geraniums  of  her  own  in  the  kitchen. 
She  had  early  cut  off  slips;  and  now  she  set  them  in  the 
crannies  of  that  ugly  eastern  corner.  And  the  moment 
school  was  out,  and  she  had  done  all  her  mother  wished, 
she  was  down  in  her  retreat,  watering  and  pottering  and 
learning  the  ways  of  nature  out  of  nature's  book. 

The  loss  of  the  poppies  was  sad.  There  had  to  be 
another  wall  to  hold  a  terrace  beyond  the  tide.  With  the 
only  silver  piece  she  had,  she  hired  old  Jerry  to  dig  a 
trench;  and  when  he  saw  her  lugging  up  the  stones,  he 
worked  overtime  every  day  to  help  her.  And  although 
it  took  them  the  rest  of  the  summer,  they  laid  and  plas- 
tered that  wall,  but  it  was  not  till  the  fall  ploughing  that 
they  could  (ill  it  with  earth.  And  if  Jule  knit  Jerry  all 
the  socks  lie  wore  that  winter,  it  was  not  in  the  way  of 
payment,  but  because  she  loved  to  do  it. 

But  it  had  been  fatiguing  to  fetch  the  water  from  the 
river  in  the  evenings  after  the  hot  days.  And  nobody  in 
the  house  took  much  interest.  Her  father  had  consented 
to  the  banishment  of  the  hens;  but  her  mother  said  it  was 
a  waste;  and  it  seemed  as  if  every  one  had  something  for 
her  to  do  when  her  flowers  needed  her,  for  the  leak-age 
from  barn  and  pig-pen  made  the  soil  so  rich  that  the 
weeds  grew  faster  than  the  flowers.  Danny  was  picking 
potato-bugs  in  the  field  when  Jule  was  taken  with  a  cold  ; 
and  when  she  was  about  again  and  went  down,  the  garden 
was  a  wilderness  of  white-weed  and  wild  carrot.  "I 
must  have  some  flowering  bushes  that  the  weeds  can't 
hurt,"  said  Jule,  as  she  took  up  her  geraniums,  by-and-by, 
and  gathered  her  seeds,  still  rejoicing  in  her  zinnias  and 
cosmos.  She  had  quantities  of  seed;  the  family  could 
not  imagine  what  she  was  doing-  when  they  saw  her 
putting  them  into  papers,  but  supposed  it  was  all  in  the 
way  of  her  foolishness  about  the  garden.  They  did  not 
know  that  the  store-keeper  had  got  her  some  bulbs,  which 
she  had  put  in  the  ground  in  September  to  get  early 
growth,  and  was  going  to  take  his  pay  in  flower-seeds,  or 
they  might  have  objected  to  such  independent  proceed- 
ings on  her  part. 

But  when  the  next  spring  opened,  the  snow  was  not 
gone  before  the  little  gardener  was  down  in  her  preserve, 
pulling  off  old  stalks  and  preparing  for  the  new  cam- 
paign. Then  Danny  and  she  went  off  to  a  pasture  where 
once  a  house  had  stood  with  damask-roses  in  its  yard; 
and  they  came  back  with  lilac-rods  that  went  into  the 
ground  up  behind  the  geraniums,  and  with  no  end  of  the 
roses.  And  no  young  princess  ever  took  more  enjoyment 
in  the  glint  of  her  rubies  than  Jule  did  when  those  rose- 
stems  strung  themselves  with  tiny  redjeaf-buds. 

Jule  had  now  saved  another  dollar,  and  had  gone  down 
to  a  florist's.  "I  want  so  many  things,"  she  sighed. 


MAKCII  12,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


335 


"And  I've  only  got  a  dollar.  Do  you  suppose  I  could 
get  a  couple  of  trumpet-vines,  and  a  honeysuckle,  and  a 
Seven  Sister's  rose,  and  a  hydrangea,  and  a  scarlet  japon- 
ica,  and  a  flowering  almond,  and  a  spice-plant — 

"  For  a  dollar?"  asked  the  florist,  smiling-.  "Well,  I 
don't  know.  I  suppose  you  wouldn't  mind  if  I  throw  in 
a  Jacque-rose  and  a  chrysanthemum?" 

"  Oh,"  cried  Jule,  with  sparkling  eyes,  "  do  you  really 
mean  so?"  And  the  treasures  she  bore  off  were  almost 
more  than  she  could  carry. 

There  were  disappointments  about  the  little  garden 
this  year;  the  flies  hurt  this,  and  the  slugs  that,  and  the 
drought  and  the  rain  the  others,  and  the  watering  was 
more  than  she  could  do  without  Danny,  and  Danny  used 
to  wail  that  he  couldn't  be  in  two  places  "  to  oust,  so  he 
couldn't."  Still,  there  were  moments  of  satisfaction  when 
the  pleasure-boats  went  up  the  river,  or  when  she  saw 
the  minister  shooting  by  in  his  boat  and  looking  at  her 
roses. 

But  the  third  summer  Jule's  undertaking  was  a  suc- 
cess. "Wife,"  said  her  father,  "our  Jule's  got  quite  a 
garden  down  at  the  old  hen-run.  I'll  rig  a  spout  from 
the  spring  in  the  barn,  so  she  won't  have  to  be  hauling 
water." 

"Sis,"  said  Tom,  "I'm  going  to  do  a  day's  work  in 
your  garden.  What  shall  it  be?" 

"  Jule,"  called  Jack,  "  I've  got  a  syringa-bush  from  the 
Squire's  for  your  garden."  So  true  it  is  that  nothing 
succeeds  like  success. 

But  these  were  scattered  offerings.  Usually  Jule,  and 
Danny,  when  he  could,  plodded  on  alone,  and  had  their 
reward  of  pure  joy  in  beaut}'. 

It  was  a  day  in  the  depth  of  summer  that  Jule  went 
shopping  downtown  with  her  mother.  Mrs.  Spencer  was 
hard  to  please,  and  Jule  amused  herself  with  the  adver- 
tisements posted  on  the  shed;  "Take  Pill's  Powders," 
half  covered  by  a  circus  picture,  on  which  again  were 
pasted  smaller  notices  of  the  "  Sale  of  a'Farm,''  the  loss 
•of  a  Black  Cat,  the  Village  Improvement  Society's  reward 
of  fifty  dollars,  an  Auctioneer's  Sale.  Jule  was  still 
spelling  them  out  when  her  mother  came  across  in  some 
•excitement  at  what  the  shop-keeper  had  been  saying. 
"I  want  you  to  run  right  home,  Jule,"  she  said,  "and 
go  clown  to  your  garden— I'm  glad  you  put  011  your  white 
print — I  suppose  your  hair's  all  a  snarl,"  lifting  the  hat 
from  the  yellow  curls.  "Make  haste— some  one's  com- 
ing there." 

"  But  I'd  rather  wait  for  you,"  said  Jule. 
"Never  mind  me.      I'll   be  there  pretty  soon."     And 
Jule  wonderingly  did  as  she  was  told.      "That  old  hen- 
run!"  she  heard  her  mother  murmuring. 

Jule  reached  the  garden  and  was  down  on  the  bulk- 
head just  in  time  to  see  a  flock  of  sails  swelling  up  the 
stream,  and  circling  a  little  way  above  like  swans,  while 
a  fleet  of  row-boats  followed,  trimmed  out  with  flags. 
There  were  girls  singing  in  the  boats,  and  some  one  in 
the  last  boat  was  blowing  a  cornet.  It  seemed  to  Jule 
AS  lovely  as  a  crowd  of  water-nymphs  could  be.  Look- 
ing back  to  see  if  her  mother  was  coming,  she  saw  her 
father  and  Jack  and  Tom  hurrying  down  the  bank  where 
Jack  used  to  drop  his  line;  and  while  she  was  looking 
back,  a  boat  rowed  up,  the  rowers  grasping  the  bulkhead 
while  some  one  stepped  out — the  minister! 

The  minister  turned  directly  and  addressed  the  people 
in  the  boats,  who  stopped  their  music  at  once.  "My 
friends,"  Jule  heard  him  saying,  "you  have  all  seen  the 
photograph  I  chanced  to  take  of  this  place  as  it  was  three 
years  ago.  You  all  see  it  now — the  building  a  tower  of 
verdure,  the  walls  turned  to  banks  of  living  green,  the 
fences  transformed  to  curtains  of  blossoming  splendor. 
Where  all  was  shapeless  confusion,  here  are  terraces  that 
in  spring  blushed  red  with  roses,  and  where  now  the  lilies 
stand  in  ranks  of  white  and  gold.  The  spot  that  was  a 


waste  haunted  by  the  owl  and  the  dragon — that  is,  by  the 
gobbler  and  the  hen— is  turned  to  a  blaze  of  glory.  So  in 
accordance  with  your  decree,  I  now  deliver  the  reward  of 
tifty  dollars  for  the  greatest  improvement  within  our  bor- 
ders to  Miss  Julia  Spencer!"  And  then,  before  he  stepped 
into  his  boat  and  the  oars  dipped,  and  the  sails  of  the  oth- 
ers ran  up,  and  the  whole  shining  flotilla  moved  away, 
the  minister  had  handed  to  the  astonished  child,  who 
stood  winding  her  curls  about  her  lingers,  a  purse  through 
whose  meshes  sparkled  five  golden  eagles.  And  then  a 
shout  went  up  from  all  the  boats,  and  the  cornet  began  to 
play  and  the  girls  to  sing,  "Come  into  the  garden,  Maud," 
till  the  music  was  nothing  but  an  enchanting  echo  in  the 
distance;  and  Jule,  in  her  bewildered  amazement,  came 
near  dropping  the  purse  into  the  river. 

"Well,  that's  what  I  call  worth  while,"  cried  Jack, 
when  Jule  had  left  off  crying  her  tears  of  surprise. 
"  What  you  going  to  do  with  it,  Sis?" 

And  then  Jule  drew  herself  up  with  pride  and  glad- 
ness. "I  am  going  to  get  Dr.nny  his  artificial  hand." 

"  And  it  will  be  the  best  thing  that  ever  grew  in  a  gar- 
den !"  cried  her  father. 


A   GIANT    BOY. 

THE  largest  boy  iu  the  world  happens,  oddly  enough,  to  be  tlie 
tallest  man  also.  He  is  uearly  seven  feet  in  height,  and 
shooting  upward  so  rapidly  that  nobody  cares  to  pn-dirl  Ins- 
tall he  will  be  when  he  really  gets  his  growth.  He  is  only  six- 
teen years  old,  and  a  thorough  boy  so  far  as  his  feelings  anil 
actions  are  concerned,  although  he  is  not  unite  so  rapid  in  his 
movements  as  hoys  of  sixteen  usually  are.  This  young  giant  is 
an  Aral',  and  his  name  is  IIass:in  Ali.  A  German  professor  who 
was  travelling  in  Arabia  met  him  with  a  caravan  which  had 
pitched  its  fainel's-liair  tents  on  the  oasis  of  Siwah-Ainons,  and, 
after  considerable  bargaining,  induced  the  boy  to  go  to  Germany, 
where  In1  is  attracting  considerable  attention. 

Hassan  is  a  Mohammedan  in  religion,  and  nothing  can  pre- 
vent him  from  kneeling  with  his  face  toward  Mecca  in  the  morn- 
ing, at  noon,  and  at  sunset  and  saying  his  prayer,  no  matter 
what  he  has  been  doing  just  before,  or  what  is  going  on  around 
him.  He  dresses  like  an  Arab  in  a  long  robe,  which  makes  him 
look  taller  than  he  really  is.  A  fez  or  skull-cap  always  covers 
his  qneerly  shaped  pointed  head,  for  the  boy's  head  is  not  so  well 
developed  as  his  body.  His  hands  are  a  foot  long,  and  his  feet 
are  large  iu  proportion,  but  his  head  is  rather  sm.-ill  for  his  size, 
and  tapers  from  his  ears  upward.  He  is  intelligent,  however, 
and  learns  quickly  everything  that  his  instructors  try  to  teach 
him.  In  some  matters  he  does  not  need  instruction,  and,  al- 
though he  has  allowed  himself  to  be  exhibited  by  show-people, 
who  are  supposed  to  be  shrewd  in  business  matters,  he  has 
proved  a  match  for  them,  and  is  getting  his  share  of  the  gate 
receipts.  So  the  largest  boy  in  the  world  is  a  side-show,  after 
all. 

DO    YOU  KNOW   HER? 

I  HAVE  a  little  friend  who  doesn't  like  to  mend, 
To  dust,  or  set  the  table,  or  even  make  a  bed  ; 
The  very  thought  of  sweeping  nearly  sets  her  off  a-weeping. 
And  she  always  goes  about  it  as  though  her  feet  were  lead. 

She  "  hates"  to  rock  the  baby,  and  says  that  some  day,  maybe. 

She'll  go  away  and  linger  where  they  have  no  bal-ies  'round 
To  keep  folks  busy  rocking — but  really  this  is  shocking, 

And  she  doesn't  mean  a  word  of  what  she  says,  I  will  he 
bound. 

'Tis  true  she  cannot  bear  to  even  walk  a  square 

To  buy  a  spool  of  cotloii.  or  Mumps  for  mamma's  mail, 
And  it's    much    against    her  wishes    that    she's  set   to  washing 

dishes, 

While   to   speitk   of  darning   stockings   is  enough  to  make   hi  r 
pale. 

In   fact,  she  wants  to  shirk  everything  resembling  work. 

And  the  only  thing  she  does  enjoy,  so  far  as  I  can  say, 
Is  to  take  her  doll  and  hook,  and  within  soi (uiet  nook 

To  read  of  elves  and  fairies,  and  dream  the  hours  away. 

E.  L.  .SYLVESTER. 


336 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


t 


The  ventriloquist  appeared  to  hesitate  a  moment,  then  said, 
abruptly,  "  Yes,  you  may  have  him  for  three  hundred  dollars." 

When  the  money  was  paid  and  the  ventriloquist  was  about  to 
leave,  lie  turned  to  the  dog,  patted  him  affectionately,  and  said, 
"Good-by,  old  fellow,  you've  been  a  good  friend  to  me." 

••  You  arc  no  friend  of  mine,"  returned  the  dog,  "  to  sell  me  to 
another  master.  As  you  were  mean  enough  to  serve  me  such  a. 
trick,  I'll  have  revenge.  I'll  never  speak  another  word  as  long 
as  I  live." 

The  ventriloquist  then  made  off  with  all  possible  haste. 

H.  C.  C. 


A  SALTY  tear  stole  down  his  manly  cheek, 

His  hands  fell  helpless  at  his  side  ; 
Those  tight-sealed  lips  of  his  refused  to  speak, 

For  in  his  stalwart  breast  faint  hope  had  died. 

"  My  mamma  will  not  let  me  have  some  pie," 
Ci-ied  he.    "Oh,  Charles,"  sobbed  Sue,  "if  not  too  late, 

When  we  are  wed  to  bake  a  tart  I'll  try  :"— 
Aud  he  had  said,  "It  is  too  long  to  wait." 


THE  TALKING   DOG. 

fl^HERE  was  once  a  ventriloquist  so  poor  that  he  was  obliged 
J_  to  travel  on  foot  from  town  to  town  to  save  expense,  much 
after  the  manner  of  the  gentleman  of  adventure  in  Grimm's  tales. 
One  day  he  was  joined  on  the  road  by  a  dog  as  forsaken  as  him- 
self, but  who  seemed  desirous  of  becoming  his  companion. 

They  journeyed  together  to  the  next  town,  and  entered  the 
tavern  tired,  hungry,  and  penniless.  Not  being  troubled  with 
the  inconvenient  refinement  which  comes  from  a  long  line  of 
gentle  ancestors,  the  man  had  developed  the  quality  known  as 
cheek,  so  he  and  the  dog  sat  down  to  eat  a  supper  for  which 
they  could  not  pay. 

The  room  was  full  of  loungers,  and  the  stranger  took  a  con- 
spicuous seat.  "What  will  you  have?"  asked  the  only  v.  alter 
the  place  employed ;  and  the  order  embraced  nearly  everything 
on  the  bill  of  fare. 

"But  I  want  something  for  my  dog,  too,"  he  added.  "Ask 
him  what  he  will  have."  The  waiter  muttered  something  about 
"  Whatcher  giving  us,"  so  the  stranger  said,  "What,  don't  you 
like  to?  Well,  Bruno,  will  you  have  beef  or  fish  ?'' 

"  Beef,  every  time,"  said  Bruno,  looking  with  mild  brown  eyes 
at  the  waiter. 

"Aud  what  to  drink?" 

"  Water,  thank  you,"  said  Bruno. 

By  this  time  the  landlord  and  every  one  in  the  place  was  eager 
with  suppressed  wonder,  and  gathered  about  to  hear  a  dog 
talk. 

The  ventriloquist  feigned  indifference  by  eating  with  avidity. 
while  the  landlord  was  evidently  considering  something.  His 
cogitation  resulted  in  his  offering  the  stranger  three  hundred 
dollars  for  his  wonderful  talking  dug. 


FORECAST. 

'Tis  said  that  the  temperature's  =, 
But  yon  cannot  deduce  as  a  s= 

If  to-day  has  been  fair, 

An  event  which  is  rare, 
That  all  of  the  davs  of  the  w= 


MOTHER.  "Bobby,  why  have  you  stuffed  cotto'n  in  your  ear; 
does  it.  ache  ?" 

BOBBY.  "  No ;  papa  said  that  everything  he  tells  me  goes  ir» 
one  ear  and  comes  out  the  other.  I  want  to  prevent  this." 


THE  ONE-SIDED   PICTURE. 
PAPA  had  a  picture  hanging  on  the  wall, 
To-day  I  knocked  it  over  playing  with  my  ball; 
Down  came  the  picture,  splitting  with  a  crack, 
Shortly  I  discovered  nothing  on  its  back; 
Now,  I  thought  it  funny,  something  new  to  rue, 
tjo  I'll  tell  iny  papa,  when  he  comes  to  see. 


JIMMIE.  "  Mamma,  are  there  any  letters  on  my  face  ?" 

MAMMA.  "No,child;  why  do  you  ask?" 

JIMMIE.     "  Mr.  Stnithers  said  he  could  read  it  like  a  book." 


BOBBY'S  PESSIMISM. 
I  THINK  it's  going  to  snow  to-night, 

And  drift  the  garden  bed, 
Aud  hide  the  pathway  out  of  sight, 

Because  I  have  no  sled. 


m 

Jlfe 


THE    RAINY    SEASON    IN    TUB    TROPICS— SAVED    BY    A    NECK. 


HARPERS 


m 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


Copyright,  1895,  by  HABPKR  A  BRO- 


All  Rights  Reservi 


PUBLISHED     WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI.— NO.  803. 


NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY,  MARCH  19,  1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY.; 
TWO  DOLLARS   A    TEAR. 


AN    ADMIRAL     FOR    A     NIGHT. 

A     STORY     FOUNDED     OX    FACT. 


BY    A.    J.    ENSIGN. 


riMHE  midshipmen  of  H.M.S.  Sorcerer  were  assembled 
JL  for  instruction  in  ordnance  and  gunnery  under  the 
gunnery  Lieuten- 
ant, Mr.  Kelton. 
Boys  who  are  in- 
tended for  officers 
in  the  English 
navy  are  taken  at 
a  very  early  age, 
sometimes  at  no 
more  than  thir- 
teen years,  and 
are  sent  to  sea 
aboard  men'-of- 
war.  From  the 
very  beginning 
they  are  taught  to 
command  as  well 
as  to  obey,  and 
are  made  practi- 
cally acquainted 
with  the  work- 
ing of  everything 
aboard  ship.  So 
some  of  the  boys 
who  sat  in  a  semi- 
circle before  Mr. 
Kelton  were  little 
fellows  who  look- 
ed as  if  they  might 
just  as  well  have 
been  at  home  with 
their  mothers. 
But  the  English 
are  a  sea -going 
people,  and  so 
these  youngsters 
were  afloat  for  the 
purpose  of  learn- 
ing how  to  main- 
tain Great  Brit- 
ain's acknow- 
ledged supremacy 
011  the  sea. 

Suddenly  there 

was  a  sharp  explosion,  and  a  cloud  of  smoke  filled  the 
room.  Mr.  Kelton  had  asked  for  a  demonstration  of  a 
certain  percussion  fuse,  and  for  an  answer  some  one  had 


'QUARTERMASTER,  SIGNAL   TUB    FLEET    TO    GET    UNDER    WAY    AND    GO    TO    SEA.' 


thrown  a  large  torpedo.      Of  course  it  fell  immediately  in 
front  of  the  one  boy  who  would  never  have  done  such  a 

thing.  The  throw- 
er had  sent  it 
thither  011  pur- 
pose. 

"Merrill, "call- 
ed Mr.  Kelton, 
sharply,  "stand 
up!" 

The  boy,  whose 
face  had  colored, 
and  who  looked 
painfully  con- 
scious, stood  up. 

"  What  do  you 
mean,  sir,"  said 
Mr.  Kelton,  "by 
such  a  piece  of 
larking  in  this 
room?" 

"  If  you  please, 
sir,"  answered 
the  boy,  in  a  trem- 
ulous tone,  "I 
didn't  throw  it." 

"Didn't  you? 
Well,  who  did?" 

A  deep  silence 
followed  this 

question,  while 
Horace  Merrill, 
the  accused  boy, 
looked  around  at 
his  companions 
with  an  eager  ex- 
pression. If  Mr. 
Kelton  had  been 
watching  that 
look  instead  of 
gazing  at  the  oth- 
er boys,  he  would 
have  seen  that  it 
rested  for  a  mo- 
ment with  special 
meaning  on  Harry  Lotham,  who  fidgeted  a  little. 

"  Merrill,"  said  Mr.  Kelton,  "  we're  here  among  officers 
and  gentlemen.   No  one  admits  having  thrown  that  thing. 


338 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


It  was  near  you,  and  your  face  betrayed  you.  I  believe 
that  you  did  it." 

"  I  did  not,  sir,"  said  Horace,  firmly  but  respectfully. 

"That  will  do.  I  do  not  wish  to  hear  any  more  denials. 
I  shall  recommend  that  you  be  given  extra  duty,  and  re- 
fused liberty  to  go  ashore  to-night  to  Lady  Stanniwell's 
reception." 

Horace  looked  as  though  he  were  going  to  cry,  but  he 
manfully  restrained  his  tears.  He  had  set  his  heart  on  that 
reception,  because  all  the  officers  of  the  fleet  were  going, 
and  his  uncle  and  cousins  were  to  be  there.  However, 
there  was  no  help  for  him,  unless  he  would  tell  who  did 
throw  the  torpedo,  and  to  do  him  justice  it  must  be  said 
that  that  never  occurred  to  him. 

"He'll  tell, "said  Harry  Lotham,  when  the  class  had 
been  dismissed. 

"No,  he  won't,"  replied  Paul  Merry  weather;  "he  isn't 
half  a  bad  sort,  though  he  is  slow." 

"  Slow  !"  sneered  Harry.     "Well,  I  should  say  he  was." 

"  Well,"  answered  Paul,  "  he  is  slow,  but  he  keeps  get- 
ting on.  He's  our  senior,  you  know." 

"  Only  because  he's  older.      He's  fifteen,  you  know." 

However,  Horace  did  not  tell.  He  kept  his  knowledge 
to  himself  and  brooded  on  the  injustice  of  his  punishment. 
He  fell  into  a  very  bitter  mood,  and  wished  that  he  were 
a  farmer's  boy  rather  than  a  young  officer  in  the  Queen's 
navy.  The  other  boys  did  not  enjoy  his  discomfiture 
very  long,  for  they  learned  that  they  too  were  going  to  be 
left  on  board.  They  had  expected  to  go,  but  the  Admiral 
had  decided  to  permit  all  the  lieutenants  and  sub-lieuten- 
ants to  go  ashore,  as  well  as  the  higher  officers,and  so  it  was 
necessary  that  three  or  four  midshipmen  be  left  aboard  in 
charge  of  the  ship,  especially  as  she  was  the  flag-ship  of 
the  fleet.  We  should  think  it  a  piece  of  insanity  to  leave 
boys  less  than  sixteen  years  of  age  in  command  of  a  pow- 
erful ship,  much  less  a  fleet;  but  in  the  English  navy  the 
middies  are  brought  up  to  this  kind  <>f  work.  It  was  in- 
tended, however,  that  two  of  the  sub-lieutenants  and  one 
lieutenant  should  return  to  the  Sorcerer  at  the  beginning 
of  the  first  watch. 

At  four  o'clock  in  the  al'lcrnoon  the  Admiral  left  the 
ship  in  his  barge,  accompanied  by  his  flag  officers,  and  be- 
fore half  past  four  all  who  were  to  go  had  gone.  Horace 
leaned  over  the  rail  and  looked  dismally  at  the  shore, 
which  was  not  quite  two  miles  away.  All  around  the 
Sorcerer  lay  the  other  seven  ships  of  the  fleet,  riding  calm- 
ly at  their  anchors.  Horace  was  tired  of  seeing  them, 
and  heartily  wished  them  all  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 

"  I'd  like  to  know  what  I'm  going  to  do  with  myself 
till  midnight?"  he  muttered.  "  I  think  I'll  turn  in  pretty 
early." 

At  five  o'clock  a  breeze  suddenly  sprang  up  from  sea- 
ward, and  in  a  very  few  minutes  it  had  brought  above  the 
horizon  a  large  bank  of  heavy-looking  gray  clouds. 

"  We're  going  to  have  a  summer  blow,  "said  Paul  Merry- 
weather,  who  was  walking  the  deck. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  the  quartermaster  on  watch;  "audit's 
goin'  to  blow  'ard,  sir,  3rou'll  see." 

"Well,  we're  in  a  comfortable  berth  here,  "replied  Paul. 

"Well,  sir,  that's  purwidin'  'ow  'ard  it  bl.ows,  sir.  It's 
a  werry  good  place  'ceptin'  when  the  wind  is  out  o'  the 
sou'west ;  an'  I'm  a-thinkiii'  that's  where  it's  a-comin' 
from,  sir,  I  do." 

"  Bother,  Martin!    You're  always  croaking,"  said  Paul. 

"  Werry  good,  sir,"  said  the  quartermaster,  walking 
away,  and  gazing  out  to  sea  through  his  spy-glass. 

At  5.30  it  was  blowing  something  better  than  a  fresh 
breeze,  and  the  white-caps  were  beginning  to  roll  in  fast 
and  thick.  At  six  o'clock  there  was  enough  sea  on  to 
start  the  whole  fleet  bobbing  up  and  down.  There  was 
a  peculiarly  long  underswell,  which  meant  that  there  was 
heavier  weather  outside  and  worse  to  come.  The  old 
quartermaster  shook  his  head,  and  muttered  to  himself: 


"  I'd  be  werry  glad,  I  would,  if  them  orficers  was  aboard 
wot's  a  com  in'  at  eight  bells,  fur  it's  my  werry  humble 
opinion  they  won't  get  here  then." 

The  wind  freshened  every  minute,  and  now  began  to 
blow  in  sweeping  gusts  that  ripped  the  white  combings 
off  the  seas  and  sent  them  swirling  away  to  leeward  in 
sheets  of  spoon-drift.  The  eight  vessels  of  the  fleet  be- 
gan to  pitch  in  a  lively  manner.  Some  of  them  got  out 
second  anchors,  and  Paul,  who  was  in  charge  of  the  deck, 
followed  this  excellent  example. 

"  By  the  great  horn  spoon,"  he  said  to  Harry  Lotham, 
"  we're  in  for  a  smoky  sou'wester  of  the  worst  sort." 

"Right  you  are.  Paul,"  replied  Harry;  "and  I  don't 
half  like  the  way  we  ride  here.  Some  of  the  fleet  will 
drag  anchors  before  this  night  is  over." 

"Shouldn't  wonder,"  remarked  Paul. 

"But  say,"  exclaimed  Harry,  slapping  his  leg,  as  an, 
idea  suddenly  occurred  to  him,  "  what  a  blue  funk  we'd 
be  in  if  the  Lieutenant  didn't  get  back!" 

"Didn't  get  back!"  echoed  Paul;  "of  course  he'll  be 
bark,  and  the  two  subs  with  him." 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that.  Look  at  the  sea.  I  tell  you 
that  in  an  hour  from  now  the  best  launch  in  her  Maj- 
esty's navy  won't  be  able  to  get  off  here." 

Paul  saw  that  Harry  was  right,  and  he  looked  anxious 
and  uncomfortable. 

"  This  is  pretty  rough.  I  don't  want  to  have  the  re- 
sponsibility of  deciding  what's  to  be  done." 

"  You  won't,"  exclaimed  Harry.  "Softy's  our  senior. 
He's  in  command  of  the  ship.  What  a  lark!" 

"Lark?  Not  much,"  answered  Paul.  "He's  in  com- 
mand of  the  whole  fleet." 

"  Whew-w-w  !"  cried  Harry.  "That's  so.  Admiral 
Sir  Horace  Merrill,  K.C.B.  Oh,  that's  too  good!" 

But  Paul  shook  his  head.  The  aspect  of  affairs  began 
to  be  serious.  The  gale  was  increasing,  and  the  sea  was 
making  in  an  alarming  manner.  Some  of  the  ships  were 
pitching  very  heavily,  and  it  was  beginning  to  grow 
dark. 

"  Quartermaster!"  called  Paul. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  man,  approaching  and  salut- 
ing. 

"  I'm  afraid  Mr.  Kelton  will  not  be  able  to  get  off." 

"No,  sir,  'e  won't,  sir;  nor  nobody  else.  That  sea's  too 
'eavy,  sir.  They  couldn't  make  'eadway  against  it,  sir." 

"  How  are  we  holding  on?" 

"Werry  well,  sir,  so  far." 

There  was  a  doubtful  tone  in  the  quartermaster's 
voice  which  alarmed  Paul. 

"  Harry,"  he  said,  "  won't  you  go  and  find  Merrill,  and 
bring  him  on  deck?" 

"  Indeed   I  will.      What  a  lark!" 

Harry  went  below  and  found  Merrill  asleep  in  his 
state-room. 

"  Here,  Admiral !"  he  shouted,  "  turn  out.  There's  the 
old  scratch  to  pay.  It's  blowing  a  howling  gale." 

"Well,  what  of  it?"  said  Horace,  sitting  up. 

"What  of  it?  You're  a  sweet  Admiral.  Don't  you 
know  you're  in  command?" 

"Hasn't  Mr.  Kelton  come  back?"  asked  Horace,  with 
sudden  anxiety. 

"Come  back?  Do  you  think  he  can  fly?  Come  on 
deck  and  take  a  look." 

But  Horace  was  already  aware  from  the  motion  of  the 
ship  that  the  weather  was  heavy.  He  hastened  on  deck 
and  was  dismayed  at  the  scene. 

"  You're  in  command  of  the  fleet,"  said  Paul. 

Horace  turned  pale,  sat  down  on  an  arms  chest,  and 
buried  his  face  in  his  hands. 

It  was  a  sudden  and  terrible  responsibility  for  the  boy. 
Eight  splendid  war-ships  were  trying  the  dangerous  ex- 
periment of  riding  out  a  sudden  gale,  at  anchor,  with  a 
lee  shore  less  than  two  miles  astern  of  them.  If  any  ship 


MARCO  19,  1895. 


HAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


339 


parted  her  chains  she  would  in  all  probability  be  a  wreck. 
And  this  midshipman,  a  boy  of  fifteen,  found  himself  the 
senior  officer  oil  board  the  flag  ship. 

"Hello!  I  say,  you're  not  going  to  cry,  are  you,  Ad- 
miral?" said  Harry,  mockingly. 

"If  you  please,  sir,"  said  the  quartermaster,  "the 
Bumblebee  is  dragging  her  anchors." 

Horace  sprang  to  his  feet  and  threw  one  hasty  glance 
about  him.  It  was  inky  dark,  and  he  could  see  nothing 
except  the  swaying  light  of  the  other  ships.  The  Bum- 
blebee had  signalled  her  trouble. 

Harry  Lotham  said,  "Now  then,  Admiral — 

"Silence!"  said  Horace,  shortly.  "Boatswain's  mate! 
Call  all  hands,  and  up  anchors.  Quartermaster,  signal 
the  fleet  to  get  under  way  and  go  to  sea." 

Harry  nearly  fell  down  with  astonishment  as  the  boat- 
swain and  quartermaster  hastened  to  obey  these  surpris- 
ing orders. 

''I  told  you,"  said  Paul,  "  he  wasn't  a  bad  sort." 

"My  eye,  though !"  exclaimed  Harry.  "I  wouldn't 
like  to  be  in  his  shoes  when  the  fleet  comes  back." 

"Nonsense!     He's  right,  you'll  see." 

For  a  few  seconds  the  ebony  sky  was  illuminated  with 
the  flashing  of  signal  lights.  Smoke  began  to  pour  out 
of  the  funnels  of  the  eight  powerful  cruisers.  Anchors 
were  hove  up,  and  in  half  an  hour  the  whole  fleet  went 
butting  the  great  billows  out  into  the  open  ocean,  where 
there  was  no  danger  of  going  on  a  lee  shore. 

For  thirty-six  hours  the  vessels  remained  at  sea,  and 
then,  the  gale  having  broken,  they  steamed  back  into 
the  harbor,  and  anchored  in  their  former  stations.  Al- 
most as  soon  as  the  Sorcerer's  anchor  went  down  the 
Admiral's  barge  was  alongside,  and  the  commanding 
officer  came  aboard. 

"Who  is  the  senior  officer  here?"  he  said. 

"  I  am,  sir,"  said  Horace,  saluting. 

"  Did  you  order  this  fleet  to  go  to  sea?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Horace,  meekly. 

There  was  a  breathless  silence  for  a  moment,  and  then 
the  Admiral  extended  his  hand  and  grasped  that  of  the 
astonished  Horace. 

"  My  boy,  I  did  not  think  you  had  it  in  you.  You'll  be 
an  honor  to  your  profession.  You  saved  the  fleet." 

"  I  told  you  he  wasn't  a  bad  sort,"  said  Paul  to  Harry, 
after  that  young  man  had  apologized  to  Horace  and  con- 
fessed to  Mr.  Kelton. 


SNOW-SHOES    AND    SLEDGES. 

BY     K  I  R  K     M  U  N  K  O  E, 
AUTHOR  OF  "  DOUYMATES,"  "  RAFTMATES,"  "  CAMrHATES,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER     V. 
A    PARSON    AT    THE    WHEEL. 

PHIL  had  been  sitting  alone  in  the  pilot-house,  where, 
in  the  chill  darkness,  the  weight  of  his  responsibility 
seemed  almost  too  great  to  be  borne.  He  had  held  out 
bravely  until  this  moment,  but  now  it  seemed  as  though 
a  great  black  wall  of  difficulty  were  reared  against  him, 
and  that  it  was  gradually  enclosing  him  on  all  sides. 
The  many  channels  revealed  by  the  waning  light  of  that 
day  must  all  be  explored  ere  the  right  one  could  be  de- 
icrmiiiecl.  Phil  dared  not  consider  how  many  days  might 
thus  be  spent,  for  he  knew  he  had  no  days  nor  even 
hours  to  spare. 

At  any  moment  now  the  river  might  close,  and  once 
caught  in  the  relentless  fetters  of  its  ice  the  Chimo  must 
remain  motionless  until  crushed  and  swept  away  by  the 
resistless  fury  of  the  spring  floods.  In  the  mean  time 
what  would  become  of  her  little  company,  stranded  there 
in  the  open  river,  exposed  to  the  full  fury  of  arctic  blasts, 
remote  from  human  habitation,  and  equally  so  from  any 


visible  supply  of  fuel?  They  had  not  even  the  fur  cloth- 
ing without  which  none  may  spend  a  winter  in  tluit 
region. 

Why  had  he  not  laid  the  boat  up  in  the  first  winter 
harbor  that  offered?  He  could  remember  that  they  had 
passed  several  very  good  ones,  some  of  which  were  in  the 
vicinity  of  Eskimo  villages. 

Why?  Because  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  reach 
An  vile,  and  declared  his  intention  of  doing  so,  and  his 
Yankee  grit  was  not  of  the  kind  to  be  daunted  by  ob- 
stacles nor  turned  back  by  them  from  an  uncompleted 
duty.  Why?  Because  he  had  promised  Captain  Hamer 
to  carry  him  to  Anvik.  Phil  Ryder  did  not  often  make 
promises,  being  opposed  to  them  on  general  principles, 
but  when  he  did  make  one  he  kept  it.  Why?  Because 
while  he  was  thus  thinking,  that  cheery  voice  came  ring- 
ing out  of  the  darkness,  bringing  with  it  such  a  tin-ill  of 
hope  and  relief  that  just  to  hear  it  was  worth  all  the  toil 
aiid  anxiety  expended  in  reaching  that  point. 

Serge  was  down  in  the  galley  cooking  supper,  and 
whistling  a  melancholy  little  tune  that  tried  its  best  to 
sound  cheerful  as  he  did  so.  Poor  Isaac,  the  millwright, 
homesick,  grief-stricken,  and  despairing,  was  working  by 
lantern-light  on  a  rude  coffin  for  his  dead  comrade.  Mr. 
Sims,  morose  and  silent,  was  busy  with  his  machinery, 
while  Gerald  Hamer  tossed  wearily  but  weakly  beneath 
the  piled-up  coverings  of  his  narrow  bed. 

All  heard  the  first  shout  of  that  unknown  voice,  :ind 
each  suspended  operations  to  listen.  When  it  came  again, 
and  they  heard  Phil's  answering  hail,  all  rushed  to  the 
gangway  on  that  side,  that  is,  all  except  the  sick  man, 
and  there,  holding  a  flashing  lantern  to  guide  him,  they 
excitedly  awaited  the  approach  of  the  unknown. 

While  they  peered  vaguely  into  the  gloom,  listening 
for  the  slatting  of  sails  or  the  rattle  of  oars,  he  suddenly 
swept  alongside,  seated  in  an  Eskimo  kyak  or  skin  boat, 
very  similar  to  the  one  in  which  Phil  and  Serge  had  made 
their  perilous  voyage  on  Bering  Sea  a  month  before, 
only  much  smaller. 

They  could  see  that  he  was  a  white  man  wearing  a 
thick  close-cut  brown  beard,  but  otherwise  he  might  eas 
ily  have  been  mistaken  for  a  native,  so  completely  was  he 
enveloped  in  a  kamleika.  The  hood  of  this  was  drawn 
over  his  head,  while  its  ample  skirts  were  fastened  t<>  tin- 
coaming  of  the  hatch  in  which  he  sat,  so  as  to  prevent 
the  entrance  of  water. 

"Well,  if  this  isn't  a  bit  of  good  fortune  then  I  don't, 
know  what  good  fortune  is!"  he  exclaimed,  smiling  up 
into  the  eager  faces  peering  at  him  from  the  steamer's 
side.  "  May  I  come  aboard?" 

"May  you  come  aboard?"  cried  Phil.  "Well,  sir.  1 
rather  think  you  may,  for  even  if  you  didn't  want  to  I  am 
afraid  we  should  capture  you,  and  drag  you  on  board  by 
force.  Why,  we  couldn't  be  more  delighted  to  see  you  if 
you  were  the  President  of  the  United  States  himself." 

"  I  doubt  if  you  can  be  half  as  happy  to  see  me  as  I  am 
to  meet  with  you  thus  fortunately  and  unexpectedly,'' 
laughed  the  stranger. 

"In  that  case,"  replied  Phil,  "you  must  be  the  very 
happiest  person  in  the  world,  for  you  have  made  me  al- 
most that." 

During  this  interchange  of  courtesies  the  stranger  had 
been  unlashing  his  kamleika,  and  now  stepping  lightly 
from  his  fragile  craft,  he  gained  the  deck,  to  which  his 
kyak  was  also  lifted. 

"Ah,  but  this  is  cozy  and  comfortable!"  he  remarked, 
as  he  entered  the  well-lighted  mess-room  which  opened 
from  the  galley,  and  was  warmed  by  its  glowing  stove. 
Serge  had  just  finished  his  preparations  for  supper,  and 
the  well-laden  mess-table  did  indeed  present  a  sight  cal- 
culated to  cheer  the  heart  of  a  hungry  man.  especially 
our  who  had  been  for  hours  battling  with  the  ice  of  an 
Alaskan  river. 


340 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME    XVI. 


•'You  gentlemen  seem  to  be  travelling  and  living  like 
princes,"  continued  the  stranger;  "but  I  must  confess  to 
considerable  surprise  at  finding  you  on  the  river  so  late 
in  the  season.  You  are  bound  down  and  out,  I  pre- 
sume?'1 

"No,  sir,"  answered  Phil.  "We  are  bound  up  the 
river,  and  hope  to  reach  Anvik  before  it  closes." 

"  Anvik!"  cried  the  stranger.  "  Why,  that  is  the  place 
to  which  I  also  am  going." 

"Alone,  at  night,  and  in  a  bidarkie?"  asked  Phil,  in- 
credulously. 

"Yes,"  laughed  the  other;  "though  I  was  only  trying 
to  cross  the  river  to-night  for  fear  it  might  close  before 
morning  and  leave  me  stranded  on  the  further  bank.  It 
was  a  reckless  thing  to  undertake,  I  acknowledge,  and  but 
for  your  timely  presence  I  might  have  come  to  serious 
grief  ere  this.  It  had  grown  so  dark  before  I  sighted 
your  lights  that  I  could  no  longer  avoid  the  floating  ice, 
and  was  in  great  fear  that  my  boat  would  be  cut  open. 
You  may  believe,  then,  that  I  was  glad  to  see  them. 
Now  to  find  myself  seated  among  those  of  my  own  race, 
and  at  a  civilized  table  after  a  rather  trying  expe- 
rience of  Eskimo  hospitality,  caps  the  climax,  and  renders 
my  content  complete." 

"Are  y.ou  011  a  limiting  or  fishing  trip,  sir?"  asked 
Phil,  anxious  to  establish  the  status  of  this  new  acquaint- 
ance. 

"  Neither  just  now,"  was  the  laconic  answer. 

"Trading,  perhaps?" 

"Not  exactly." 

"Travelling  for  pleasure?" 

"  Yes,  so  far  as  it  is  a  pleasure  to  do  my  work." 

"  Prospecting?" 

"For  some  things,  though  not  for  gold." 

"In  government  employ?" 

"No." 

"  Working  for  the  company,  perhaps?" 

"If  you  mean  for  the  fur-trading  company,  I  am 
not." 

Phil  was  nonplussed,  and  knew  not  what  to  ask  next. 
In  fact,  but  for  the  stranger's  affable  manner  and  quiz- 
zical smile  he  would  not  have  pushed  his  inquiries  so  far 
us  he  had.  Finally  he  said:  "I  need  not  ask  if  you  are 
a  good  boatman,  for  any  one  who  can  manage  a  bidarkie 
as  well  as  you  do  must  be  that.  I  do  want  to  make  one 
more  inquiry,  though,  and  I  hope  you  will  excuse  my 
iuquisitiveness,  but  we  are  in  distress  and  greatly  need 
assistance.  Are  you  a  Yukon  pilot?" 

"For  that  part  of  the  river  lying  between  here  and 
Anvik  I  am,"  replied  the  stranger.  "In  fact,  I  know  it 
so  well  that  I  would  not  hesitate  to  run  it  in  the  dark. 
Furthermore,  to  satisfy  your  very  proper  curiosity  con- 
cerning an  utter  stranger  who  has  forced  himself  upon 
your  hospitality,  I  will  say  that  I  am  a  trader,  a  prospec- 
tor, a  fisherman,  a  hunter,  a  boatman,  a  mechanic,  a 
writer,  a  teacher,  something  each  of  a  lawyer,  a  physician, 
and  a  surgeon;  and,  above  all,  I  am  a  preacher  of  the 
Word  of  God,  for  I  am  a  missionary  of  the  Protestant 
Episcopal  Church,  and  stationed  at  Anvik." 

"  Oh,  sir,  are  you,  really?"  cried  Phil.  "Then  you 
are  the  very  man  I  have  wanted  most  to  meet.  Had  I 
not  heard  that  you  were  at  Anvik  and  believed  you 
would  help  us,  I  don't  think  I  should  have  dared  bring 
the  boat  even  as  far  as  I  have.  I  was  trying  to  make  up 
my  mind  what  to  do  next,  and  had  almost  decided  not  to 
attempt  a  further  ascent  of  the  river,  but  to  go  into  the 
best  winter  quarters  we  could  find  to-morrow.  You  see 
we  are  all  mixed  up  as  to  the  channels,  and  greatly  afraid 
of  being  caught  by  the  ice." 

"  As  well  you  may  be,"  replied  the  missionary.  "  But 
pardon  my  curiosity.  You  speak  of  bringing  the  boat 
to  this  place,  as  though  you  were  her  captain.  Is  that 
the  case?" 


"No,"  replied  Phil,  with  a  flush.  "I  am  only  her 
first  mate,  while  Serge  here  is  second,  and  Mr.  Sitns  is 
engineer.  But  I  am  acting  as  Captain  during  the  illness 
of  our  real  Captain,  Mr.  Gerald  Hamer,  who  is  down  with 
the  measles." 

"Indeed!"  said  the  missionary,  gravely.  "lam  very 
sorry  to  hear  that,  for  in  this  climate,  especially,  measles 
is  a  serious  sickness,  and  has  been  a  terrible  scourge  on 
the  river.  I  have  just  been  spending  a  few  days  at  one 
of  the  Shagelook  villages  instating  a  native  teacher  in 
place  of  one  who  died  of  measles  a  few  weeks  ago.  How 
long  has  your  Captain  been  ill?" 

"  Since  the  day  we  entered  the  river." 

"And  do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  have  navigated 
the  steamer  all  this  distance  without  help?" 

"Oh  no,  sir!  I  have  had  the  help  of  Serge,  who  is  a 
capital  sailor  and  can  talk  Russian  besides,  and  of  Mr. 
Sims,  who  is  a  first-class  engineer,  and  of  Isaac,  who  is  a 
millwright,  but  who  makes  one  of  the  best  firemen  I  ever 
saw,  and  we  had  another  millwright,  only  he  died  last 
night,  and  a  native  pilot  part  of  the  way." 

"Well,  you  have  certainly  shown  an  immense  amount 
of  pluck  and  perseverance,"  exclaimed  the  missionary, 
"and  I  don't  think  I  know  another  boy  of  your  age  who 
would  have  done  as  well,  for  you  don't  look  as  though 
you  were  out  of  your  teens  yet — are  you?" 

"Almost,"  answered  Phil  again,  flushing;  "that  is.  I 
shall  be  in  two  years  more." 

"And  Serge?" 

"  He  is  almost  as  old  as  I  am." 

"  How  about  Isaac?" 

"  Oh,  Isaac  is  'most  twenty." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Sims,"  said  the  missionary,  turning  to  the 
engineer,  "  I  congratulate  you  on  your  crew." 

"Yes,"  assented  the  man,  gruffly,  "they're  a  pretty 
plucky  lot  of  boys.  We've  been  mighty  short-handed, 
though,  since  the  Cap'n  took  sick,  and  Martin  died,  and 
my  assistant  was  set  ashore  for  mutiny,  and  I  for  one 
am  powerful  glad  to  see  another  white  man  come  on 
board,  even  if  he  is  a  parson." 

Smiling  at  this  equivocal  compliment,  the  missionary 
asked  if  he  might  visit  the  Captain,  and  was  conducted 
by  Phil  to  the  sick  man's  bedside.  As  they  came  away 
he  said  to  the  young  mate:  "  Your  Captain  is  dangerous- 
ly ill,  and  the  sooner  you  get  him  to  Anvik,  where  there 
is  a  doctor,  the  better.  Therefore  I  would  advise  you  to 
up  anchor  and  make  the  run  to-night,  especially  as  I  fear 
the  river  may  close  before  morning." 

CHAPTER    VI. 
FLOATING   ICE    AND    "  CHY." 

HAPPY  to  share  his  responsibility  with  the  stranger 
who  had  been  so  providentially  sent  to  their  relief,  Phil 
willingly  agreed  to  his  proposal,  and  ordered  the  C/iin/o 
to  be  again  got  under  way.  The  night  was  clear,  cold, 
and  still ;  but  there  was  no  moon, and  its  darkness  was  only 
dissipated  in  a  measure  by  brilliant  starlight.  This,  how- 
ever, was  sufficient  to  disclose  the  outline  of  the  western 
bank,  which  the  new  pilot  kept  always  in  sight.  He 
seemed  actually  to  be  able  to  feel  his  way  up  the  mighty 
river,  avoiding  false  channels  and  sandbars  as  if  by  in- 
stinct, and  never  hesitating  as  to  which  side  of  an  island 
he  ought  to  pass. 

Phil  occupied  the  pilot-house  with  him,  and  after  a 
long  silence  he  exclaimed,  admiringly,  "  You  surely  must 
have  been  a  steamboat  man,  sir,  before  you  became  a 
missionary." 

"No,"  laughed  the  other,  "I  never  was  on  a  river 
steamer  until  I  came  out  here,  though  as  a  boy  I  did  have 
some  experience  in  running-  up  and  down  Lake  Cham- 
plain,  near  which  I  lived." 

"In  New  York  State?"  asked  Phil. 


MARCH  19,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


341 


"  No;  in  Vermont,  not 
very  far  from  Burling- 
ton. So,  you  see,  I  am  a 
genuine  Yankee." 

"  I  might  have  known 
it.,"  said  Phil,  "  from 
your  handiness  at  all 
sorts  of  things.  I  won- 
der why  it  is  that,  as  a 
rule,  the  Yankee  is  such 
a  Jack-at-all-trades?" 

"  I  suppose  it  is  be- 
cause he  is  generally 
taught  by  necessity  in 
the  shape  of  poverty," 
replied  the  missionary. 
"And  even  if  he  were 
not  so  taught  at  home, 
he  certainly  would  he 
out  here,  where  a  man 
must  be  able  to  do  near- 
ly everything  for  him- 
self or  leave  it  undone." 

"Jalap  Coombs  was  a 
Yankee,"  meditated  Phil. 
"That  is,  when  he  didn't 
feel  that  he  was  a  sub- 
ject, and  he  could  do 
more  kinds  of  things  than 
any  one  I  ever  knew. 
Howl  wish  he  were  with 
us  at  this  very  minute! 
I  don't  believe  we  could 
get  into  any  scrape  or 
trouble  that  he  wouldn't 
manage  to  get  us  out  of 
somehow." 

"  Is  he  dead?''  asked  the  missionary. 

"  No,  indeed.  That  is,  I  hope  not,  though  he  might  as 
well  be  so  far  as  we  are  concerned,  for  I  don't  suppose 
we  shall  ever  see  him  again.  We  left  him  on  Oonimak 
Island,  Serge  and  I  did,  and  now  I  suppose  he  is  in 
Sitka  or  Victoria  or  San  Francisco,  or  perhaps  bound  for 
the  other  side  of  the  world." 

Being  thus  started  on  the  subject  of  Jalap  Coombs,  Phil 
proceeded  to  give  his  new  friend  an  account  of  their  re- 
cent adventures  in  Bering  Sea,  and  of  the  prominent  part 
taken  in  them  by  the  Yankee  mate  of  the  sealer  Seamew, 
in  all  of  which  the  new-comer  was  deeply  interested. 
While  Phil  was  in  the  midst  of  an  account  of  how  Serge 
obtained  fire  from  brimstone  and  feathers,  the  second 


THE    ARRIVAL   OP    THE    UNKNOWN. 


to  do  any  work  before  morning;  but  the  appearance 
among  them  of  the  missionary  and  a  few  words  from  him 
produced  a  magical  change  in  their  attitude.  Five  min- 
utes later  a  long  line  containing  every  able  bodied  man 
in  the  settlement  was  formed  from  the  steamer  to  the 
wood-pile,  and  a  steady  stream  of  cord  wood  sticks  passed 
from  hand  to  hand  was  flowing  aboard. 

Within  half  an  hour  every  inch  of  wood-room  was 
filled,  the  natives  were  made  glad  by  double  the  pay  they 
had  ever  received  for  a  similar  amount  of  work,  and  the 
Chimo  was  backing  out  of  the  channel  she  had  made  for 
herself  toward  open  water. 

Only  fifteen  miles  now  lay  between  her  and  Anvik, 
and  though  the  night  had  grown  bitterly  cold,  her  pilot 


mate  himself  appeared  to  report  that  their  stock  of  fuel     held  out  hopes  that  they  might  still  make  the  run  with- 


was  nearly  exhausted. 

"Then  we  must  stop  at  Makagamoot  for  a  new  sup- 


out  being  nipped  in  the  rapidly  forming  ice. 

Under  every  pound  of  steam  that  her  boiler  would  bear 


ply,"  said  the  missionary  pilot,  promptly,  "  though  I  fear     the  sturdy  little  craft  quivered  to  her  very  keel  as  she 
we  may  have  trouble  in  getting  the  natives  to  turn  out     ploughed  through  the  black  waters,  grinding  the  floating 

ice  -  cakes  beneath  her  bow,  tossing  them  to  one  side,  or 
beating   them    to   fragments   with    her   powerful   wheel. 
"Certainly,  sir,"  agreed  Phil,  and  so  the  Chimo,  being     Leaving  the  missionary  alone   in    the  pilot-house,  Phil 


at  this  time  of  night.     Still,  with  your  permission,  Cap- 
tain Ryder,  I  think  we  would  better  try  it." 


somewhere  in  the  vicinity  of  the  invisible  Eskimo  settle- 
ment at  that  very  moment,  was  headed  for  the  west  bank 
of  the  river.  Her  whistle  was  sounded  vigorously  at 
short  intervals  to  attract  attention,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
her  crew  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  a  glow  of  fire- 


worked  with  Serge  and  Isaac  at  heaving  wood  into  the 
roaring  furnace.  In  face  of  its  fervent  heat  it  was  hard 
for  them  to  realize  that  the  night  was  cold,  and  much  less 
that  the  mercury  stood  close  to  zero. 

But  the  silent  figure  grasping  the  frigid  spokes  up  in 


light  on  the  beach  not  more  than  a  mile  ahead.     At  the     the  pilot-house  knew  it,  and  his  anxiety  increased  with 


same  time  there  came  an  ominous  crunching  of  ice,  and 
all  hands  instantly  realized  that  inshore  the  river  was  al- 
ready frozen  over.  The  ice  was  not  yet  thick  enough  to 
stop  them,  though  it  materially  impeded  their  progress. 
They  finally  succeeded  in  reaching  the  bank. 

At  first  the  few  sleepy  natives  who  came,  out  of  curi- 


each  slow  -  dragging  hour.  Was  it  indeed  too  la!e  to 
reach  a  safe  winter  haven?  Had  he  been  too  officious 
and  self-confident?  He  almost  feared  so,  and  said  as 
much  to  Phil  when  the  young  mate  came  up  to  inquire 
how  many  more  miles  they  had  to  go. 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,  sir,"  cried  the  lad.  with    all  his  old 


osity,  to  witness  the  unusual  sight  of  a  steamboat  at  that     cheery  confidence  fully  restored.      "  Why,  if  you  hadn't 
time  of  night  and  thus  late  in  the  season,  were  disinclined     come  along  we  should  certainly  have  staid  there  until 


342 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


morning,  in  which  case  it  is  plain  enough  now  that  the 
Chiino  would  have  gone  no  further  this  winter.  Now 
you  have  at  least  brought  us  within  reach  of  safety.  But 
aren't  we  nearly  there,  sir?  It  seems  as  though  we  had 
come  fifty  miles  instead  of  fifteen  since  we  took  on  that 
rtood." 

"Yes;  and  if  it  were  daylight,  which  it  soon  will  be, 
we  could  see  Anvik  now.  When  we  have  made  a  couple 
more  miles  I  shall  head  her  into  the  ice.  In  the  mean 
time  I  wish  you  would  ask  Serge  to  make  me  a  pot  of  his 
hottest  city,  for  I  am  nearly  perished  with  the  cold." 

"A  pot  <>f  what?"  asked  Phil,  thinking  he  must  have 
misunderstood  the  word. 

''  Of  city.      Tell  him  a  <•////  /n'ft  is  what  I  want." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir!  CJii/  it  is,  and  you  shall  have  it  if 
there's  a  drop  to  be  found  aboard  the  boat." 

Serge  laughed  at  the  Order,  and  hastened  to  fill  it; 
while  Phil  followed  him,  curious  to  see  what  he  made. 

"Why,  that's  tea  you  are  putting  into  the  pot!"' he  ex- 
claimed, a  few  minutes  later. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Serge;  "  cliy  is  tea,  and  tea  is  cliy, 
and  the  tea-pot  is  chynik,aud  chy peet  is  a  lunch  of  tea 
and  bread.  So  there's  a  lesson  in  Russian  that,  I  know 
you  won't  forget  in  a  hurry.  Now,  if  you  will  carry  it 
up  to  him  I  will  get  back  to  the  furnace  door,  for  poor 
Isaac  is  just  about  used  up." 

So  the  young  Captain  acted  as  steward,  and  then,  taking 
the  wheel  while  his  guest  drank  cup  after  cup  of  the 
scalding  liquid,  became  quartermaster,  and  was  finally 
restored  to  his  original  rank  by  having  the  missionary 
ask  his  permission  to  send  the  Chimo  into  the  ice.  "It 
may  injure  the  hull  somewhat,"  he  said;  "but  we've 
either  got  to  risk  it  or  leave  her  to  winter  out  here  in  the 
middle  of  the  river;  for  we  are  abreast  of  Anvik  now." 

"  Of  course  we  must  put  her  into  the  ice  and  rush  her 
just  as  far  as  she  will  go,"  answered  Phil.  "We  can 
afford  to  damage  her  hull  to  a  very  considerable  extent 
better  than  we  can  afford  to  leave  her  out  here  to  be 
crushed  by  the  spring  break-up  of  the  ice." 

So  in  the  first  flush  of  morning  the  brave  little  boat 
was  headed  toward  the  western  bank,  and  began  directly 
to  crash  through  the  thin  ice  fringing  the  channel.  For 
some  distance  she  cut  her  way  as  though  it  had  been  so 
much  window-glass.  Then  her  progress  became  slower 
and  slower,  until  finally  she  came  to  a  full  stop,  though 
the  big  wheel  was  still  lashing  the  water  into  foam  behind. 

"Stop  her!  back  her!  stop  her!  go  ahead  full  speed!" 
were  the  orders  tapped  out  on  the  engine-room  gong,  and, 
rushing  at  the  ice  with  gathered  headway,  the  Cliinio 
crashed  her  way  through  it  for  a  hundred  yards  further. 
Again  she  was  backed,  and  again  charged  the  enemy  with 
furious  impetus.  This  time  the  shock  was  terrific.  Again 
and  again  was  the  attack  repeated,  until  finally  she  gained 
barely  a  length. 

With  the  next  shock  the  steamer  climbed  the  ice,  and 
ran  nearly  half  her  length  out  of  water  before  the  barrier 
broke  with  her  weight  and  set  her  once  more  afloat. 

"That's  all, "said  Phil,  quietly.  "We  don't  dare  try 
that  again.  If  we  did  we'd  probably  open  every  seam  in 
her,  even  if  we  didn't  break  her  back.  So  that's  all  we 
can  do,  and  here  is  where  the  Chimo  will  have  to  lie  for 
the  winter.  It's  too  bad,  though,  for  we  aren't  more  than 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  shore." 

"I  don't  know  about  lying  here  all  winter,"  replied  the 
missionary.  "I  don't  like  it  myself,  and  if  you  would 
rather  have  the  boat  close  to  the  bank  I  guess  we  can 
manage  to  put  her  there." 

"How?"  asked  Phil. 

"You  wait  here  and  get  breakfast  while  I  go  ashore  on 
the  ice.  I  won't  be  gone  more  than  an  hour,  and  when  I 
come  back  I'll  tell  you, "was  the  reply.  "I  shall  bring 
the  doctor  with  me,  too." 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


THE   WAKING    UP   OF   CROSS    CORNERS. 

"  \\TELL?" 

VV      "I  bore  it,  that's  all." 

"  Was  it  as  dreadful  as  that,  dear?" 

"Every  bit,  Barbara  Wallace.  Couldn't  have  been 
worse  unless  it  had  been  a  funeral." 

Barbara  sighed,  and  stirred  uneasily  on  her  couch. 
The  bright  afghan  slipped  to  the  floor,  and  lay  in  a  ruin- 
bow  heap  with  the  soft  light  of  the  shaded  lamp  upon  it. 
Myra  threw  herself  down  beside  it,  and  ran  her  fingers 
in  and  out  of  the  meshes  listlessly.  She  was  tired.  It 
liad  been  rather  a  trying  evening,  and  the  walk  home 
through  the  ill-lighted,  ill-paved  streets  had  added  the 
finishing  touch  of  dissatisfaction. 

"I  didn't  want  to  go,  you  know,"  she  said,  looking  up 
half  apologetically  into  Barbara's  pale  face  above  her. 

"  No,  I  know.  You  only  went  to  please  your  fussy  old 
sister,"  Bab  said,  gently,  touching  the  brown  head  with 
slender  caressing  fingers.  Something  like  real  distress 
crept  into  her  face.  Surely  she  knew  very  well  what 
rebellious  thoughts  were  tumbling  over  each  other  in 
Myra's  mind — what  longing  for  the  old,  congenial,  plea- 
sant home,  and  utter  disgust  for  the  narrow  inartistic  sur- 
roundings about  her  now.  They  had  only  been  at  Cross 
Corners,  as  the  bit  of  a  village  was  called,  for  a  week  or 
tw-o,  but  there  had  been  plenty  of  time  for  whiffs  of  its 
depressing  atmosphere  to  steal  in  to  invalid  Barbara  on 
her  sofa — stifling  whiffs  they  were,  and  she  had  done  her 
best  not  to  breathe  them  in.  Both  the  girls  had  made  a 
brave  stand  against  them,  and  until  to-night  Myra's  bright 
young  face  had  kept  its  smiles  in  Bab's  room.  It  was 
that  dreadful  "social"  that  had  proved  the  last  straw  to 
her  courage.  No  wonder  Barbara  heartily  wished  she 
had  not  coaxed  her  to  go. 

"I  meant  it  well  enough,"  she  was  thinking,  gloomily. 
"  I  thought  maybe  she'd  get  acquainted  with  some  young 
folks,  and  take  a  bit  of  comfort  even  in  Cross  Corners." 

The  fire  snapped  now  and  then,  and  the  pretty  clock  on 
the  mantel-piece  ticked  in  its  customary  cheerful  way, 
but  for  the  rest  it  was  still  enough  in  the  room.  Down- 
stairs they  could  hear  the  strident  voice  of  Farmer  Bow- 
ker  reading  aloud  jerky  scraps  of  news  to  his  wife.  They 
had  been  to  the  "  social  "  too,  and  were  sitting  up  un- 
usually late  over  the  Weekly  Bulletin,  and  doubtless  a 
brewing  of  black  tea  and  a  doughnut. 

"There,  now,"  Bab  said,  suddenly,  "tell  me  all  about 
it,  that's  a  good  child." 

"Yes,  ma'am,  why  not?"  Myra  answered,  briskly, 
coming  out  of  her  brown -study.  "Well,  everybody 
was  there,  from  the  butcher's  wife  down  to  the  min- 
ister's baby.  Everybody  folded  their  hands — so — and 
made  lovely  wall-flowers,  in  straight  rows,  like  the  bach- 
elors'-buttons  grandmother  used  to  have,  you  know,  be- 
side the  phlox  and  sweet-peas.  Everybody  smiled  but 
the  minister's  baby,  and  he  howled.  Everybody  said, 
'What  an  early  spring  we're  a  having,'  and  'How  dread- 
ful muddy  it  is  beyond  Hiram  Dolittle's  barn !'  Every- 
body—" " 

"That's  enough!"  Bab  cried,  laughing.  "Now  tell 
me  what  you  did  and  what  you  said." 

"I?  Oh,  I  was  a  wall-flower  too,  of  course,  between 
Mrs.  Dolittle  and  our  friend  downstairs."  She  tapped 
the  floor  gently  with  her  heel.  "I  smiled  too.  I  said, 
'How  dreadful  muddy !'- 

"Myra  Wallace,  stop  joking  and  be  'sober  earnest' 
for  a  minute.  I  want  to  know  the  true  inwardness  of 
that  'social.'  Now  begin.  Didn't  you  try  to  say  some- 
thing sensible  once  in  awhile?" 

"To  be  sure  I  did,  Mistress  Prim.  I  asked  the  milli- 
ner's clerk  if  she  had  read  the  last  book — 

Barbara  fell  back  on  her  pillow  with  a  groan. 

"  Did  you  ride  your  hobby,  Myra  2" 


MAUCII  19,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


343 


Mvra  rose  to  her  knees  and  laid  her  cheek  011  the  pil- 
low too.  A  loosened  wisp  of  hair  fell  across  her  fore- 
head, and  Bab's  thin  hand  lovingly  put  it  bark  in  place. 

"  Just  a  teenty  tonty  bit  of  a  ride,  Babsie,"  Myra  said, 
whimsically.  "  I  only  trotted  solemnly.  I  never  can- 
tered a  bit." 

Bab  smiled.      "  Well?'1  she  said. 

"Well,  that's  the  worst  of  it  all.  Bab.  I  don't  know 
but  it's  the  key  to  it  all — the  humdrumness  and  crabbed- 
ness  and  narrow  contractedness  of  the  whole  of  Cross 
Corners." 

She  got  up  and  walked  restlessly  up  and  down  the  lit- 
tle room.  At  the  table  she  stopped  to  adjust  the  lamp 
shade  and  disarrange  the  papers.  At  the  farther, side  of 
the  room  she  halted  before  her  beloved  books  and  passed 
her  hand  tenderly  along  their  shining  backs.  The  low 
bookcase  had  come  from  their  old  home,  and  its  burden 
of  books  was  Myra's  especial  glory  and  comfort.  And 
it  was  scarcely  to  be  wondered  at,  for  there  was  no  lack 
of  good  things  in  printer's  ink  upon  the  long  shelves. 
Tlie  best  and  oldest  and  the  best  and  newest  were  there. 

Barbara,  waited  patiently  for  the  return  trip  across  the 
room.  When  it  was  made,  she  said,  quietly,  "How  do 
you  mean,  dear?"  But  Myra  did  not  seem  to  hear. 

"Do  you  believe  it,  Bab  Wallace?"  she  broke  out,  im- 
patiently. "  I  don't  have  the  least  idea  that  one  of  those 
girls  there  to-night  has  ever  read  anything — anything! 
Not  even  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  or  Robinson  Crusoe .' 
I  talked  with  some  of  them  about  reading — there  wasn't 
anything  else  to  talk  about  after  we'd  disposed  of  Hiram 
Dolittle's  mud— and  they  were  just  as  blank  as  a  sheet 
of  paper.  There  was  one  girl  said  she'd  read  Vicar' 
of  Wakefleld  three  times,  and  lots  and  lots  of  Ladies' 
Repositories.  She  said  there  were  'awful  nice'  stories 
in  the  Ladies'  Repositories.  Her  grandmother  used  to 
take  them.  It  was  the  queerest,  feeling— I  don't  know 
whether  it  made  me  sorrier  or  madder.  There  doesn't 
seem  to  be  any  sense  in  it,  Bab." 

The  good  Bowkers  were  passing  the  door  on  their  way 
up  to  bed. 

"Ain't  that  a  dretful  nice  story,  Hannah?"  they  heard 
Farmer  Bowker  saying.  "It's  gittin'  excitin'er  right 
along  now." 

"Ain't  it,  Ben?  I  can't  skearcely  wait  till  next  Bul- 
letin to  see  who  done  the  murderin'."  Mrs.  Bowker's 
voice  drifted  back  faintly  through  the  long  hall.  The 
girls  looked  at  each  other  and  laughed. 

"  I  don't  care,"  Myra  said,  stoutly;  "  that's  better  than 
nothing  at  all." 

"  Oh,  don't,  Myra!  Just  think,  '  murderiiigs'  and  hor- 
rors in  coarse  clothing!  /say,  blessed  be  nothing  at  all, 
if  that's  the  only  literature  to  feed  on." 

Myra  went  back  to  her  books,  and  took  out  one  or  two 
dainty  volumes  and  turned  the  leaves  with  a  little  rustle 
of  impatience.  The  familiar  pages  troubled  her  queerly. 

"  Poor  girls!"  she  murmured.  "  They're  starving,  but 
they  don't  even  know  it,  and  that's  about  the  hardest  part 
of  it.  Bab,"  wheeling  suddenly  about,  "let's  go  to  bed." 

"Let's,"  Bab  said,  wearily,  lifting  herself  with  a  little 
tug  that  sent  the  faint  color  flying  out  of  her  cheeks. 

Myra  was  at  her  side  in  a  moment  and  had  her  strong 
arms  round  the  frail  figure. 

"There,  now,  lean  with  all  your  might  and  main. 
Babsie.  I'm  suffering  for  exercise." 

They  went  into  the  small  bedroom  adjoining.  Mrs. 
Bowker,  just  blowing  out  her  lamp,  felt  the  slight  jar  of 
the  dragging  steps  over  the  shaky  old  floor. 

"They're  goin'  to  bed,  I  calc'late,  an'  it's  a  mercy,  for 
they  set  up  too  late  most  gener'ly  for  sech  young  things, 
let  alone  one  on  'em's  bein'  so  slim.  They're  real  nice 
gals,  Ben,"  she  added,  aloud,  as  she  stumbled  across  to 
bed  in  the  dark. 

"Hey?"  Farmer  Bowker  said,  sleepily.      "  Yes,  yes,  so 


they  be — but  they  don't  seem  noways  cut  out  in  a  CYoss 
Corners  pattern."  And  then  he  went  to  sleep,  in  the 
swift,  comfortable  fashion  of  all  men  with  unencumbered 
consciences  and  unimpaired  digestions,  while  his  good 
wife  lay  for  an  hour  thinking  kind,  motherly  thoughts 
about  the  lonely  girls  down  the  hall. 

When  Bab  was  tucked  into  bed,  Myra  crept  out  into 
the  sitting-room  in  her  night-gown,  and  sat  down  by  the 
lire.  She  planted  her  elbows  on  her  knees,  and  her  chin 
in  the  palms  of  her  hands,  and  pondered  long  and  haul 
It  was  not  altogether  comfortable  pondering,  either,  for 
she  wrinkled  her  brows  and  tapped  her  bare  toes  uneasily. 
Once  she  got  up  and  felt  her  way  over  to  the  bookcase 
A  faint  glimmer  from  the  fire  touched  the  gilt  lines  on 
some  of  the  bindings  of  the  books  and  brought  them  into 
shining  prominence.  Myra  laid  her  .cheek  against  the  lit- 
tle bright  spots  in  the  dark  room. 

"  I'm  a  selfish  old  hypocrite,"  she  whispered.  "But  I 
don't  see  how  I  can  do  it— no,  I  don't!" 

She  went  back  again  to  the  stove,  and  began  the  hard 
thinking  all  over.  The  clock  ticked  tirelessly  on,  and  the 
lire  burned  down  to  embers.  Myra  shivered. 

"Heigho!"  she  said,  aloud,  straightening  herself  out 
and  rubbing  her  aching  knees.  "I'll  go  to  bed — and  /  'II 
do  it .'" 

Barbara  stirred  when  she  got  into  bed  beside  her. 

"  Never  you  mind,  Babsie,"  Myra  murmured,  softly 
patting  her.  "We'll  wake  up  Cross  Corners  yet." 

It  was  dull  and  forbidding  weather  next  day,  and  the 
mud  was  something  to  wonder  at.  But  after  breakfast, 
when  Bab  was  ensconced  on  her  sofa  with  a  bit  of  fancy- 
work  and  a  book,  Myra  was  off  "downtown"  through 
the  mud  and  drizzle.  She  came  back  with  a  plentiful 
supply  of  smooth  brown  paper  and  a  bottle  of  mucilage. 

"  What  in  the  world  are  you  doing,  Myra  Wallace?" 
Bab  said,  a  little  while  afterward. 

Myra  sat  on  the  floor  with  a  litter  of  books  and  paper 
all  aroujid  her,  and  there  was  the  snipping  sound  of  an 
industrious  pair  of  scissors.  "  Oh,  covering  my  books," 
she  said,  carelessly  enough. 

"What  for?"  asked  Mrs.  Bowker,  who  happened  to  be 
standing  by,  watching  with  a  great  deal  of  interest. 

"  Why,  they  won't  be  so  likely  to  fade,  you  know,  or 
get  soiled.  It's  a  good  idea,  I  think." 

Barbara  lifted  her  head  a  little,  and  looked  at  Myra 
curiously.  But  Myra  was  very  busy.  She  began  to 
hum  over  her  work,  and  the  snipping  went  on  steadily. 

"  There's  something  to  pay,"  Bab  thought.  "  But  I'll 
wait.  She'll  tell  me  by-and-by." 

Bab  was  well  acquainted  with  her  younger  sister,  so 
now  she  settled  back  on  the  pillow  and  waited. 

One  by  one  the  pretty  books  were  neatly  covered,  and 
stood  on  the  shelves  in  long  brown-uniformed  rows — 
like  so  many  reform-school  girls  in  brown  linen  pina- 
fores, Myra  thought,  in  dismay.  But  she  kept  resolutely 
on  till  they  were  all  covered,  except  one  shelf  of  chosen 
volumes,  which  were  permitted  to  remain  in  their  old 
bright  dresses.  It  was  nearly  dark  when  the  scraps 
were  cleared  away.  Myra  put  everything  to  rights  care- 
fully, and  then  drew  a  low  stool  up  beside  the  couch  and 
sank  down  on  it,  with  her  hands  clasped  round  her  knees. 
She  swayed  lightly  back  and  forth  for  a  few  minutes. 
Then  she  said,  "  It's  an  idea,  Babsie." 

"I  thought  so." 

"  It  began  at  the  wall-flower  festival,  and  ended  last 
night  in  the  dark  after  you  went  to  bed." 

"  I  thought  so." 

"Well,  don't  you  want  to  know  what  it's  all  about?" 

"Awfully." 

So  the  new  "freak  "  unravelled  itself,  and  lay,  straight 
and  plain,  before  Bab's  surprised  sight. 

"  Do  you  think  we  can  make  it  go,  Bab?"  Myra  asked. 

"Of  course  we  can.      But  we  must  do  it  rig-lit,  dear, 


344 


HARPER'S  f  OUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


MYRA   BEGINS    THE    "WAKING    UP." 


It  won't  do  to  make  it  seem  like  a  charity  affair.  That 
would  hurt  the  girls'  pride,  and  spoil  everything.  You 
must  ask  a  little  fee  for  joining,  you  know,  and  impose 
a  bit  of  a  fine  for  keeping  the  books  too  long." 

Myra  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  Well,"  she  said,  "  if 
I  must,  I  must." 

The  supper-bell  rang,  and  Myra  had  to  go  downstairs. 
The  subject  was  resumed  when  Bab  was  taking  her  tea 
from  the  little  table  beside  the  sofa  awhile  after.  Then 
the  plan  was  canvassed  in  all  its  particulars,  and  there 
were  not  a  few  puzzling  places  to  smooth  out.  It  was 
decided  to  make  out  a  little  catalogue  of  the  books  that 
the  girls  could  look  over  and  select  from,  and  Myra  be- 
gan it  that  very  evening. 

Presently  all  Cross  Corners  knew  that  the  "Wal- 
lace girls"  had  set  up  a  circulating  library,  aiid  every- 
body could  have  a  share  in  it.  And  almost  everybody 
did  have  a  share  in  it,  too.  Before  Bab  and  Myra  could 
fairly  realize  it,  the  shelves  in  their  bookcase  were  full 
of  wide,  lonesome  gaps,  and  the  books  tipped  over  side- 
wise  on  the  least  provocation.  Myra  set  them  up  straight 
again  with  unfailing  patience.  She  even  bore  the  occa- 
sional bruises  and  battered  corners  of  her  pet  books  with- 
out a  grumble.  It  was  part  of  her  idea,  and  she  had 
decided  to  bear  it,  while  she  sat  with  her  elbows  on  her 
knees,  in  the  dark,  that  night  of  the  "  social." 

"It's  working,  Babsie,"  she  said  one  evening,  a  few 
weeks  later.  "  Mrs.  Bowker  joined  to-day.  Listen!  The 
farmer's  reading  my  Kenilworth  aloud  to  her  this  min- 
ute." 

If  they  could  have  known  in  how  many  homes  the 
leaven  of  their  little  books  was  working  for  good  that 
same  evening,  the  knowledge  would  have  sent  them 
away  to  bed  with  still  lighter  hearts. 

The  time  of  waiting  at  Cross  Corners  was  getting  near  an 
end.  Myra  was  actually  looking  sober  at  the  thought  of 
going  away  from  Cross  Corners,  and  then  there  was  some- 
thing else  on  her  mind  besides — something  she  told  Bab 
about  one  day  while  they  were  waiting  for  the  tea-bell  to 
ring. 


"I've  decided  something, 
Bab." 

"  Well,  another  idea?" 
"No;   it's  some  more  of  the 
same  idea,"  Myra  said,  soberly. 
"  Tell  me,"  Barbara  said. 
"  I'm  going  to  leave  my  books 
here,  you  know,  Babsie  —  that's 
what  it  is." 
"Oh!" 

"I  can't    bear  to   take  them 
all    away,   and    they    need    'em 
more  than  I  do.     And  so — and 
so,  we'll  just  leave  them  behind 
as  a  nest-egg,  Barbara,  my  dear." 
"  So  we  will,  little  sister." 
"A    nest-egg    might    hatch  a 
whole  big  library  in  time;  why 
not?" 

"  Why  not,of  course?  Myra, 
you're  a  little  brick!" 

Barbara's  eyes  were  shining. 
She  drew  Myra  down  beside  her 
and  kissed  her  all  over  her  face. 
After  a  few  minutes  she  sudden- 
ly exclaimed,  "Now  it's  my 
turn!  I've  got  an  idea  myself! 
We'll  get  the  girls  together  to- 
morrow and  propose  a  grand 
concert  —  entertainment  —  any- 
thing you  please — to  raise  funds 
for  more  books  still.  We'll  do 
it  before  we  go  home,  Myra,  so 

we  can  have  a  hand  in  it.     I   can   help  plan,  and  you 
can  help  perform.     See?" 

"  I  guess  I  do  see,  Bab  Wallace!  and  there's  some  fee- 
money  already,  and  the  fines,  you  know — 

"And  the  supper  bell— run  down  to  supper,  dear,"  Bar- 
bara said. 

Both  new  ideas  grew  and  nourished.  The  girls  entered 
delightedly  into  the  entertainment  plan,  and  worked  like 
beavers,  and  the  result  quite  satisfied  them  all. 

A  large  audience  attended  the  modest  little  affair,  and 
before  the  evening  ended  more  than  one  enthusiastic 
friend  added  a  bit  of  a  free-will  offering  of  his  own.  The 
nest-egg  was  working  wonders. 

Cross  Corners  suddenly  woke  up  and  lent  the  little 
enterprise  kindly  advice  and  sympathy,  where  more  sub- 
stantial aid  was  out  of  the  question.  Mrs.  Hiram  Do- 
little  offered  the  girls  a  little  unoccupied  room  on  her 
ground-floor  to  be  used  as  a  library,  and  good  Mrs.  Bow- 
ker donated  a  bright  rag  carpet  and  one  or  two  chairs. 
Some  of  the  boys  put  their  heads  and  tools  together  and 
began  the  making  of  some  shelves,  and  even  the  milli- 
ner's little  clerk  had  her  share  in  the  pleasant  giving. 
She  went  over  to  the  "library"  one  day  when  the  girls 
were  just  putting  it  in  order  for  its  opening  day,  and 
took  from  under  her  shawl  a  vase  of  bright  artificial 
flowers. 

"  I  thought  maybe  they'd  sort  of  chirk  things  up 
some,"  she  said,  timidly.  "  An'  they  won't  need  no  wa- 
terin'  an'  tendin'.  I  had  thought  of  havin'  them  red 
roses  on  my  summer  bunnit,  but  I'd  a  sight  ruther  they'd 
be  over  here  helpin'  along." 

The  day  they  went  there  was  quite  a  crowd  of  sorrowful 
friends  at  the  little  station  to  see  them  off  and  wave  their 
handkerchiefs,  moist  with  tears,  as  long  as  the  thread 
of  smoke  behind  the  train  was  visible. 

Myra  pressed  her  face  close  to  the  window,  and  watched 

the  last  Cross  Corners  landmark  speed  by,  with  a  real 

lump  in  her  throat  and  a  troublesome  mist  on  the  pane. 

"It's    a    good,  kind    place,  Babsie,"  she    said,  softly. 

"  We'll  go  back  again  some  day,  won't  we?"        A.  H.  D. 


BOYS    AND     GIRLS     OF    NEW    YORK    STREETS^ 


B  Y     E.    \V.     T  O  W  N  S  E  N  D. 
II.— DANNY    CAHILL,    NEWSBOY. 


TITHE  sun  had  not  risen  over  Long  Island  when  Danny 
_l  Cahill  woke  from  his  slumbers  on  the  bale  of  hides 
on  the  East  River  pier.  He  woke  with  a  happy  start,  but 
then  there  was  a  sudden  fear  that  the  great  events  of 
yesterday  were  only  a  dream. 

Was  it  true,  he  began  thinking — and  the  doubt  almost 
made  him  cry — was  it  true  that  he  had  been  rescued  from 
the  policeman  by  a  man  who  had  then  given  him,  the 
poor  little  street  arab.  a  dollar  to  start  business  with.' 

He  had,  or  else  he  dreamed  that  he  had,  put  those  four 
silver  quarters  in  his  trousers  pocket,  and  then  tied  a 
hard  knot  in  the  pocket  so  that  the  money  could  not  roll 
out  in  the  night. 

He  hardly  dared  to  feel  in  his  pocket  to  find  out,  but  he 
did  feel,  slowly,  at  last,  and,  sure  enough,  the  precious 
money  was  there.  Then  he  gave  such  a  yell  of  delight 
that  the  night  watchman,  who  had  not  yet  gone  home, 
stuck  his  head  out  of  his  little  office  and  called  out,  ask- 
ing Danny  if  he  had  the  nightmare. 

"It's  something  better  dan  a  night  mare  or  a  day 
mare,"  Danny  answered.  "  I've  got  a  stake." 

Then  he  told  the  whole  story  to  the   watchman,  and 
when  he  came  to  the  name  of  the  man,  Mr.  Kean,  who 
had   loaned  him  the  dollar,  the  watch- 
man said  quickly:   "Oh,  that  explains 
it.       It's    110    more    than    right    Kean 
should  do  a  fair  thing  for  your  father's 
son.      Dan  Cahill  helped  Kean  many's 
the  time." 

"How?"  asked  Danny,  excitedly. 

"Oh,  it's  all  politics,  which  you 
couldn't  understand  if  I  told  you,"  the 
watchman  answered,  walking  back  to 
his  office,  muttering  to  himself,  "Kean 
is  a  good  friend  to  have,  for  all  the  bad 
things  they  say  against  him." 

"Good  luck  to  you,  Danny  boy," 
the  watchman  said,  as  Danny  bade  him 
good -by.  He  ran  down  the  street 
toward  the  Fulton  Fish  Market. 

Before  he  had  become  a  -business 
man,  as  he  already  began  to  think  he 
was,  Danny  often  went  down  there 
early  in  the  morning,  and  sometimes, 
for  some  little  help  he  gave  them, 
the  marketmemtook  him  to  a  restau- 
rant and  bought  him  coffee  and  a  roll. 
This  morning  he  had  110  time  to  waste 
with  the  marketmen,  but  went  at  once 
into  a  coffee-house  and  proudly  order- 
ed a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  roll,  the  first 
meal  he  had  ever  bought  in  his  life. 

"Who's  going  to  pay  for  it?1'  the 
waiter  asked. 

"Never  you  fear,"  answered  Danny. 
"I've  got  cle  price  in  me  pocket." 

As  he  was  going  to  pay  for  it  him- 
self Danny  bravely  put  four  lumps  of 
sugar  in  his  coffee,  although  he  had 
never  before  dared  to  put  more  than 
one.  Then  he  was  so  eager  to  get  up 
to  the  newspaper  press-rooms  and  be- 
gin work,  he  scalded  his  mouth  with 
the  coffee,  untied  his  pocket,  paid  five 
cents,  and  ran  up  to  Newspaper  Row,  as 
the  street  is  called,  where  a  great  many 
of  the  big  New  York  papers  are  printed. 

*  The  first  story  of  tliis  series,  "  A  Street 
Waif's  Luck,"  appeared  in  No.  792. 


At  the  first  office  he  reached  there  was  a  hurrying  lot 
of  men  dragging  big  blue-striped  bags  filled  with  papers 
ill  wrappers,  which  they  threw  like  sacks  of  potatoes  into 
United  States  mail  wagons,  and  those  wagons  were  driven 
off  with  a  rush  and  rattle  to  ferries  and  railroad  depots. 
Other  men  and  boys  were  hurrying  just  as  fast  with  big 
tied  bundles  of  papers,  which  they  threw  into  delivery 
carts  and  wagons,  and  these  were  being  driven  off  to  all 
points  of  the  city  to  supply  dealers  and  news-stands. 

Danny  ran  around  to  the  room  where  the  newsboys 
were  being  served  with  their  papers,  and  found  a  crowd 
there,  pushing  and  struggling  for  their  places  in  the  line 
on  its  way  to  the  clerk  who  was  selling  the  papers,  and 
in  a  minute  more  he  was  running  down  toward  Fulton 
Feny,  on  the  East  River,  with  teiV  each  of  three  different 
newspapers  under  his  arm,  yelling  like  an  Indian.  He 
was  yelling  just  to  practise  his  newspaper  call,  for  he 
met  very  few  people  on  his  way  at  that  time  of  the  morn- 
ing, and  most  of  these  were  from  the  newspaper  press- 
rooms. 

At  last,  so  much  out  of  breath  he  could  hardly  call  his 
papers,  he  reached  the  ferry  entrance  just  as  a  boat  came 
in  from  Brooklyn.  Danny  darted  among  the  hundreds 


AS    YELLING    JUST    TO    PRACTISE    HIS    NEWSPAPER    CALL. 


346 


HARPER'S    YOUNG    PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  ' 


of  people  offering-  his  goods,  feeling  very  important,  but 
the  people  all  seemed  in  too  much  of  a  hurry  to  even  no- 
tice him.  When  the  wagons  began  leaving  the  boat  one 
driver  asked  Danny  to  toss  him  up  ;i  paper,  and  when  he 
had  done  so  the  driver  threw  him  down  a  cent,  and  the 
boy  clutched  it  with  delight. 

"  If  I  only  sell  one  paper  for  each  boat  I'll  get  rich 
pi-etty  soon,  I  don't  t'ink,"  Danny  said  to  himself. 

Just  then  a  man  hurrying  toward  the  ferry  touched 
him  on  the  shoulder,  picked  out  three  of  his  papers — 
two  two-cent  and  one  one-cent  paper — handed  him  five 
cents,  and  passed  on  without  a  word,  or  even  looking  at 
him.  That  nearly  took  Danny's  breath  away,  and  lie 
stared  after  the  man,  saying  to  himself,  "He  must  be 
what  dey  calls  a  millionaire." 

There  were  other  boys  at  the  ferry  selling  papers,  and 
Danny  noticed  that  they  did  not  run  about  as  he  had 
done,  but  stood  in  one  spot  as  the  people  passed  from  and 
to  the  boat,  so  lie  determined  to  do  the  same. 

It  was  then  his  day's  trouble  began  in  earnest.  The 
first  place  he  took  a  stand  was  soon  claimed  as  his 
"ground"  by  a  much  larger  boy.  Danny  was  inclined 
to  make  a  formal  declaration  of  war  right  then  and  there, 
but  he  reflected  that  the  chances  were  very  much  in  favor 
of  his  getting  whipped,  and  while  that  would  not  have 
held  him  back,  usually,  he  knew  that  commerce  and  war 
did  not  go  well  together.  After  he  had  been  driven  away 
from  two  or  three  places  he  began  to  think  that  there 
might  be  such  a  thing  as  too  much  caution,  so  he  made 
up  his  mind  to  try  just  once  more,  no  matter  what  might 
happen.  He  did  not  have  to  wait  long  to  find  out.  He 
had  not  stood  still  more  than  a  minute,  calling  his  papers, 
when  a  boy  came  up  to  him,  and  said,  "Get  off  here, 
kid." 

"  Off  where  ?"  asked  Danny. 

"  Off  de  eart',"  responded  the  other. 

"Say,  kid,  you  just  put  me  off  de  eart',"  Danny  said, 
angrily;  and,  as  he  expected,  there  was  war.  He  had  to 
drop  his  papers,  of  course,  and  even  in  the  thick  of  the 
iight  he  saw  an  outside  boy  run  in  and  grab  his  whole 
stock  in  trade  and  scamper  off  with  it.  That  made 
Danny  so  mad  that  he  made  up  his  mind  to  have  the 
only  satisfaction  there  was  left,  and  he  was  having  it  in 
getting  the  best  of  the  fight,  when  the  police  officer  on 
post  separated  the  boys,  cutfed  their  ears,  and  ordered 
them  to  "get  out  of  that." 

That  was  an  order  which,  of  course,  had  to  be  obeyed, 
and  Danny  hurried  back  to  the  newspaper  offices  for  a 
fresh  supply  of  papers,  but  when  he  felt  for  his  money  to 
pay  for  them,  he  nearly  fainted  with  horror  at  the  discov- 
ery that  in  his  rough-and-tumble  fight  all  his  money  had 
been  lost,  or  perhaps  stolen,  from  his  pocket.  For  a. time 
he  was  so  overcome  by  despair  he  could  not  even  think. 

It  was  the  greatest  tragedy  of  his.  life,  and  there  seemed 
nothing  he  could  do  except  to  go  back  to  the  hateful  beg- 
ging. He  hopelessly  wandered,  back  to  the  ferry,  but 
was  only  laughed  at  by  the  boys  when  he  made  a  tearful 
search  for  his  money.  He  thought  for  a  moment  that 
he  would  go  to  Mr.  Keau,  tell  him  the  whole  story,  and 
ask  for  another  stake. 

"But  he'd  t'ink  I  was  lyin'  to  him,  and  if  he  believed 
me  he'd  t'ink  I  was  a  no  good,  and  dat  is  just  as  bad  as 
lyin',"  Danny  thought,  as  he  gave  up  that  idea. 

He  slowly  wandered  down  the  water-front,  wondering 
if  the  best  thing  for  him  would  not  be  to  drown,  and  end 
all  his  trouble. 

"  Only,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  I  don't  know  how  to 
drown;  I  only  know  how  to  swim.  So  I  just  got  to  go 
on  liviii',  and  bein'  a  no  good." 

He  kept  on  down  by  the  wharves  until  he  reached  the 
Battery,  as  the  park  at  the  very  end  of  New  York  is  call- 
ed. It  was  a  warm  day  for  May,  and  there  were  a  num- 
ber of  well-dressed  people  there,  enjoying  the  fresh  air 


and  view  on  the  broad  stone  quay  which  runs  along 
edge  of  the  park  next  to  the  water  of  the  bay.     Da  • 
noticed  one  little  boy  about  his  own  age  who  was 
ning  ahead  of  his  father  and  mother  playing  with  a  1 
pug-dog.     Danny  was  thinking  what  a  fine  thing-  it  w< 
be  to  have  such  clothes  as  that  boy  had,  when  the  h 
suddenly  took  up  the  dog,  and  exclaiming,  "  I'm   gc 
to  give  Carlo  a  bath,"  threw  it  into  the  water. 

The  boy's  mother  screamed,  and  all  of  them  rai 
the  edge  of  the  quay,  where  they  shouted  in  despair 
the  tide  was  high,  and  there  was  no  rock  above  u 
for  the  struggling  dog  to  land  on,  and  the  face  of 
quay  was  made  of  smooth  stones. 

"Say,  did  ye  want  to  drown  de  pup?"  asked  Dann 

"No,"  exclaimed  the  lady,  in  tears.  "We  wan 
save  him!  Oh,  how  can  we  save  him?'' 

"Say,  dat's  dead  easy,"  Danny  remarked,  and  a: 
did  so  lie  jumped  in  the  water.  He  soon  had  the  nov 
most  drowned  Carlo  in  one  hand,  swam  to  the  edg 
the  quay  where  he  could  stand  on  the  submerged  r< 
and  held  the  collapsed  dog  up  so  that  the  lady's  liusb 
by  lying  down  on  the  quay,  could  reach  it.  The 
was  passed  to  its  owner,  who  wrapped  its  wet  and  ; 
ering  form  in  her  cloak,  and  then  the  man  reached  dL..... 
again  and  pulled  Danny  up. 

"  Dere  don't  seem  to  be  nobody  to  wrap  me  up  in  dere 
coats,"  remarked  Danny,  and  started  to  walk  away,  when 
the  gentleman  called  him  back. 

"You  are  a  brave  little  fellow,"  the  gentleman  said, 
"and  you  must  not  go  away  until  we  have  done  some- 
thing for  you." 

"He'll  die  of  cold,"  said  the  lady,  "for  poor  Carlo  is 
shivering  with  all  the  wraps  around  him." 

They  hurried  Danny  across  the  park  to  a  carriage 
which  was  waiting  for  them,  and  after  Carlo  had  been 
wrapped  in  one  of  the  carriage  robes,  Danny  was  wrapped 
in  another,  and  bundled  into  the  carriage. 

"Now  we'll  drive  you  home;  where  do  you  live?"  the 
gentleman  asked. 

"I  'ain't  got  no  home,  and  I  lost  me  dollar,"  Danny 
said,  beginning  to  cry,  though  why  he  couldn't  tell. 

As  the  carriage  drove  up  Broadway  the  lady  and  gentle- 
man made  Danny  tell  them  his  story,  and  when  he  had  fin- 
ished the  tale  of  his  day's  misfortune  the  gentleman  said, 
after  a  whispered  consultation  with  his  wife,  "I  think 
the  best  thing  for  us  to  do  is  to  drive  to  Mr.  Kean's  of- 
fice;" and  he  gave  the  coachman  that  order. 

"  But  he'll  t'ink  I'm  a  no  good,"  objected  Danny. 

"  I  guess  not,  after  I've  told  him  what  you  did  for  us," 
answered  the  gentleman,  smilingly. 

At  Mr.  Kean's  office  Danny  and  the  gentleman  went 
in,  and  the  carriage  drove  off.  The  gentleman  went 
into1  Mr.  Kean's  private  office,  and  while  they  were  still 
there  the  carriage  returned,  and  the  little  boy  came  in 
with  a  bundle.  He  gave  it  to  Danny,  and  said  manfully, 

"  I'm  very  sorry  what  I  did  made  you  get  your  clothes 
wet,  and  as  it  was  my  fault  I've  brought  you  a  new  suit." 

Danny  ran  around  behind  a  desk,  and  was  dressed  in 
his  new  suit  when  Mr.  Kean  and  the  gentleman  came  out 
of^the  private  office.  The  gentleman  shook  hands  with 
Danny,  and  went  away  with  his  son. 

"Well,  Danny,"  said  Mr.  Keau.  "you  made  some  good 
friends  to-day." 

"I  should  t'ink  I  has,"  replied  Danny.  "Look  at  de 
new  harness  de  kid  rigged  me  out  in.  Say,  I  look  like  a 
dude  wid  me  whole  shoes  and  stockin's,  don't  I?" 

"Yes;  and  there  is  something  more  than  that  for  you 
which  the  gentleman  left  with  me,"  Mr.  Kean  said. 
"  Here  is  part  of  it  for  another  start,"and  he  handed  the 
astonished  Danny  a  dollar. 

"  All  dis  for  a  pup  what  was  so  fat  it  couldn't  swim!" 

Mr.  Kean  did  not  tell  Danny  that  the  gentleman  had 
left  five  dollars  for  him,  thinking  it  better  to  keep  the 


MARCH  19,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


347 


balance  until  Danny  should  have  learned  his  business, 
and  knew  how  to  keep  his  money. 

Again  Danny  started  in  business  as  soon  as  the  after- 
noon papers  were  out.  He  did  not  go  near  the  ferries  or 
bridge  again,  for  he  knew  he  would  have  too  many  fights 
on  his  hand  on  account  of  his  new  clothes,  and  he  had  had 
fight  enough  for  one  day.  He  went  further  up  town  on 
Broadway,  and  worked  until  his  unaccustomed  shoes 
made  his  feet  sore,  but  he  was  succeeding,  and  forgot  all 
about  the  pain. 

Tired  and  happy  he  went  to  the  Newsboys'  Lodging- 
house  that  evening,  had  a  big  hot  supper  there  for  six 
cents,  and  for  six  more  hired  one  deck  of  a  double-deck 
cot,  sleeping  for  the  first,  time  in  his  life  on  a  spring 
mattress  and  between  sheets. 

"  Dis  must  be  de  way  dose  millionaires  live,"  Danny 
dreamily  thought  as  he  fell  asleep. 

He  soon  learned  the  tricks  of  the  newsboys'  trade  so 
well  that  by  Saturday  he  paid  Mr.  Kean  the  borrowed 
dollar,  and  had  enough  capital  left  to  continue  business 
with.  He  saved  his  money  with  an  object,  for  Mr.  Kean 
had  promised  him  that  as  soon  as  he  had  saved  enough 
money  to  buy  a  uniform  with  lie  would  find  him  a  posi- 
tion as  a  messenger-boy. 

"And  den,"  thought  Danny,  "I'll  go  over  de  whole 
city  and  see  all  de  sights.  Perhaps  I'll  even  see  de  ani- 
mals up  in  Central  Park." 


THE  YOUNG  QUEEN  OF  HOLLAND. 

BY  KATHARINE  DE   FOREST. 

HER  Serene  Majesty  Wilhelmina  Heleiie  Pauline  Ma- 
rie, Queen  of  the  Netherlands,  is  now  a  charming 
young  girl  of  fourteen,  whose  life  so  far  has  been  as  un- 
clouded and  happy  as  though  no  cares  of  state  were 
hanging  over  her  head  for  the  future. 

She  has  no  public  duties  to  fulfil,  and  she  will  have  none 
until  she  comes  of  age  and  is  crowned.  She  lives  very 
much  as  do  other  young  girls  of  her  age,  except  that 
much  more  is  expected  of  her,  and  she  is  brought  up 
with  a  constant  preoccupation  of  her  future  destinies. 

Her  life  is  very  simple.  She -rises  at  seven,  goes  the 
first  thing  to  say  good-morning-  to  her  mother,  and  then 
at  eight  has  her  breakfast,  after  which  for  three  hours 
she  is  busy  with  her  lessons  and  masters.  Her  first  gov- 
erness until  she  was  four  years  old  was  a  French  woman. 
Mademoiselle  Liotard,  who  was  then  replaced  by  the 
Queen's  English  governess,  Miss  Winter,  who  has  been 
with  her  ever  since.  Queen  Wilhelmina  is  very  bright 
and  clever,  and  studies  hard,  so  as  to  learn  everything 
that  the  ruler  of  a  kingdom  should  know. 

First  and  foremost  the  world  expects  of  a  Queen  a  good 
knowledge  of  foreign  languages,  so  as  to  be  able  to  talk 
with  diplomats  of  all  nations  in  their  own  tongues,  and 
the  little  Princess  before  she  was  ten  years  old  spoke 
fluently  French,  Dutch,  English,  and  German,  and  had 
a  fair  knowledge  of  Italian.  She  has  masters  in  every- 
thing that  goes  to  make  up  a  girl's  education,  including 
music,  drawing,  riding,  and  dancing.  And  besides,  she 
is  taught  all  about  her  army  and  navy,  her  colonies  and 
their  products,  and  whatever  interests  or  touches  the  lives 
of  her  people  both  at  home  and  abroad. 

After  lessons  are  over  she  takes  a  walk  with  Miss  Win- 
ter and  her  favorite  dog,  a  larige  hound  named  Swell. 
Never  was  a  dog  more  devoted  to  his  mistress  than  is  Swell 
to  the  little  Queen.  While  she  is  busy  with  her  masters 
he  keeps  guard  at  the  door  of  her  room,  and  no  one  can 
make  him  leave  his  place.  As  soon  as  she  comes  out 
after  the  lessons  are  over  lie  gambols  round  her,  and  runs 
on  before  her  to  the  garden  with  an  air  of  showing  her 
the  way  and  protecting  her. 

The  little  Queen  is  very  fond  of  pets,  of  which  she  has 


a  great  number,  and  she  never  forgets  to  go  every  day 
and  carry  some  dainty  to  her  horses,  ducks,  pigeons, 
chickens,  and  the  beautiful  fawns  in  the  chateau  park. 

Like  most  little  girls  who  have  no  brothers  and  sisters 
to  play  with,  she  is  extremely  devoted  to  a  large  family 
of  dolls.  A  charming  little  Swiss  chalet  has  been  built 
for  her  in  the  park  at  Apeldoorn,  and  her  play-rooms 
are  there.  She  treats  her  dolls  exactly  like  children, 
and  is  very  anxious  that  they  should  not  grow  up  to 
be  ignorant  or  stupid.  All  the  lessons  that  she  studies 
herself  she  tries  to  teach  'to  them.  Around  the  chalet 
there  is  a  pretty  garden  full  of  fruit  and  vegetables,  in 
which  the  Princess  works,  and  when  she  was  younger  it 
was  no  unusual  sight  to  see  her  there  surrounded  by  the 
elder  children  of  her  family,  whom  she  was  trying  to 
have  learn  the  names  of  all  the  different  products.  One 
of  her  favorite  occupations  used  to  be  making  sand  pies, 
which  she  offered  with  great  gravity  to  her  mother  and 
the  ladies  of  the  court  when  they  came  out  to  visit,  her. 
She  never  leaves  the  chalet  without  gathering  a  bouquet 
of  flowers  for  her  mother's  room. 

A  certain  part  of  every  day  the  Queen  spends  with  her 
mother,  who  always  reads  to  her  a  chapter  out  of  a  beauti- 
ful Bible,  superbly  printed,  and  filled  with  magnificent 
engravings.  After  lunch,  which  is  served  at  half  past 
twelve,  the  Queen  goes  out  to  drive  behind  four  pretty 
ponies,  and  she  handles  the  reins  with  great  skill  herself. 
When  she  was  a  very  little  girl  her  mother  made  her  a 
present  of  a  tiny  riding-pony  called  "Baby."  The  little 
Princess  grew  taller  and  larger,  while  Baby  remained  the 
same  size,  so  the  young  Queen  now  mounts  a  new  pony, 
named  "  Gazelle,"  and  Baby  is  left  to  reach  a  happy  old 
age  in  the  royal  stables. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  even  outside  of  lessons  all 
the  Princess's  time  is  spent  in  play.  In  the  first  place,  as 
the  Dutch  people  care  a  great  deal  for  order  and  cleanli- 
ness, she  is  obliged  to  keep  her  chalet  and  all  her  belong- 
ings in  perfect  order  herself.  She  has  learned,  too,  to 
make  her  dolls'  clothes,  and  is  a  beautiful  seamstress;  and 
her  mother,  who  does  exquisite  embroidery  and  tapestry, 
has  taught  her  little  daughter  the  same  accomplishment. 

Every  week_Queen  Wilhelmina  receives  an  allowance 
of  pocket-money.  Part  of  this  she  gives  to  the  poor, whom 
she  visits  herself.  Out  of  the  rest  she  must  buy  all  the 
presents  she  gives,  and  each  year  some  of  the  money  is 
spent  in  getting  ready  a  Christmas  tree  for  twelve  children 
belonging  to  the  servants  of  the  palace.  The  tree  is  raised 
in  all  its  glittering  splendor  in  the  Swiss  chalet;  and  what 
wonder  that  the  happy  children  are  devoted  to  a  little 
Queen  who  has  knitted  the  warm  mittens  and  tippets  they 
receive  with  her  own  fingers,  and  paid  for  their  toys  out 
of  her  own  pocket-money! 

One  thing  that  the  Queen  Regent  was  determined 
upon  was  to  give  her  little  daughter  the  delight  of  play- 
ing with  other  children  of  the  same  age.  The  story  goes 
that  Queen  Wilhelmina  was  once  overheard  saying  to  a 
refractory  doll,  "Now  be  good  and  quiet,  because  if  you 
aren't.  I  will  turn  you  into  a  queen,  and  then  you'll  have 
nobody  at  all  to  play  with."  An  only  child  is  apt  to  be 
a  little  lonely.  And  the  Queen  misses  all  the  fun  of  go- 
ing to  school  with  other  girls,  and  having  intimate  friends 
among  them,  with  whom  she  can  share  all  her  pleasures 
and  "talk  over  things";  but,  at  the  same  time,  it  must. 
not  be  supposed  she  is  always  alone. 

Every  now  and  then  Queen  Emma  gives  a  party  for 
her  little  daughter,  made  up  of  the  children  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  chateau.  They  all  have  good  times  to- 
gether, without  the  least  stiffness  or  etiquette,  and  the 
tall  old  trees  in  the  park  resound  with  merry  voices  and 
gay  laughter.  In  the  winter  Queen  Wilhelmina  may  be 
seen  skating  on  the  lakes  in  the  Hague  with  other  chil- 
dren, and  one  of  her  greatest  pleasures  is  to  show  her 
skill  at  snowballing. 


348 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUMK  XVI. 


THE    QUEEN    IN    PEASANT    COSTUME. 

Like  most  little  girls,  Queen  Wilhelmina  is  very  fond 
of  "  dressing  up."  Was  there  ever  a  child  yet,  I  wonder, 
who  did  not  like  to  see  herself  in  other  clothes  besides  her 
own?  and  queens,  it  seems,  are  no  exception  to  the  rule. 
The  Queen  loves  to  put  on  a  peasant's  dress  and  parade 
about  in  it.  On  one  of  her  last  birthdays  her  mother 
made  her  a  present  of  a  magnificent  costume,  like  one 
worn  by  her  ancestress,  Louise  de  Coligny.  In  this  she 
has  a  really  grand  air,  like  a  queen,  and  she  says  she 
thinks,  dressed  in  that  way,  she  inspires  a  great  deal  of 
respect  from  her  dolls. 

But  it  is  on  her  birthday,  the  31st  of  August,  that  the 
little  Queen's  happiness  is  at  its  height.  Lessons,  work, 
and  tasks  of  all  sorts  are  put  away  for  the  moment,  and 
the  entire  day  is  given  up  to  enjoying  herself,  and  mak- 
ing other  children  happy.  The  chateau  gates  are  thrown 
wide  open,  and  the  children  of  the  country  about  are  al- 
lowed to  frolic  at  their  will  in  the  park,  while  a  certain 
number  of  Queen  Wilhelmina's  friends  are  invited  to 
spend  the  day  with  her.  It  is  she  herself  who  receives 
her  little  visitors  and  presides  over  the  beautiful  table 
spread  for  their  refreshment,  and  it  is  she  who  is  made  to 
feel  responsible  for  their  entertainment. 

All  sorts  of  delightful  things  are  done  to  amuse  them. 
The  birthday  fete  is  generally  celebrated  at  the  Chateau 
of  Loo,  the  favorite  residence  of  the  royal  family;  and 
there  are  drives  behind  the  Queen's  ponies,  promenades 
in  her  boat  Emma,  visits  to  her  pigeon-house  and  all  her 
pets,  not  forgetting  the  dolls. 

In  spite  of  all  that  is  done  to  give  her  a  happy  child- 
hood, the  small  Queen  is  not  to  be  envied.  She  is  a 
simple,  winsome  little  girl,  but  at  the  same  time  a  Queen, 
and  treated  as  such  by  all  around  her,  while  the 
responsibilities  of  her  position  are  always  looming  up 
before  her.  Even  driving  out  behind  four  ponies  be- 
comes anything  but  a  pleasure  when  one  must  think  of 


nothing  but  bowing  to  her  people  as  she  passes.  One 
day  the  Queen  was  found  with  all  her  dolls  packed  into 
a  box  that  she  was  pretending  was  a  carriage.  "You 
have  been  so  naughty  to-day,"  she  was  overheard  to  say, 
"that  I  positively  must  punish  you.  I  shall  take  you 
to  drive  through  all  the  principal  streets  in  the  Hague, 
and  you  must  bow  to  every  person  you  meet.  You  won't 
like  it — I  don't — but  you  must  do  it,  because  it's  a  punish- 
ment." Even  though  shielded  as  much  as  possible  bv 
her  devoted  mother,  the  young  Queen  has  a  much  more 
difficult  place  to  fill  than  that  of  other  girls. 

She  has  a  great  deal  of  spirit,  and  a  quickness  of  com- 
prehension that  will  stand  her  in  good  stead  some  day, 
as  you  can  see  by  this  little  story.  She  was  the  idol  of 
her  old  father  during  his  lifetime,  and  one  day,  going  into 
his  private  room,  she  found  the  King  walking  the  floor 
with  his  hands  clasped  behind  his  back,  in  a  thoroughly 
bad  humor.  He  paid  no  attention  to  her  as  she  entered. 
"Are  you  angry,  papa?"  she  asked,  going  up  to  him. 
Her  father  either  did  not  hear,  or  pretended  not  to  do  so. 
The  Princess  stood  for  a  second,  and  then  crossing  her 
own  little  hands  behind  her  back,  she  began  to  walk 
resolutely  up  and  down  by  the  side  of  her  father,  with- 
out saying  a  word.  The  King  made  two  or  three  turns 
more,  and  then,  looking  down  at  his  small  companion,  he 
suddenly  burst  out  laughing,  and  caught  her  up  in  his 
arms,  with  every  trace  of  his  ill -nature  gone.  This 
shows  the  woman  of  resource  who  understands  mana- 
ging men.. 

THE  DETECTIVE  IN  FICTION  AND   REALITY. 

BY    INSPECTOR    THOMAS    BYRNES, 
Superintendent  o£  the  New  York  Police  Force. 

I  AM  asked  to  write  for  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  about 
a  detective's  work,  what  it  is  like,  and  how  it  is  done. 
Let  me  begin  by  saying  that  it  is  not  at  all  like  the  notion 
I  had  formed  of  it  when  I  was  one  of  the  young  people 
myself.  Then  I  liked  to  read  about  the  mysterious  de- 
tective who  was  everywhere  just  at  the  right  time,  and 
guessed  without  half  trying  what  it  would  have  taken 
common  people  years  to  find  out  by  the  closest  kind  of 
thinking.  I  suppose  boys  of  to-day  like  him  as  well  as 
I  did.  I  judge  so  from  the  way  he  tiptoes  about  in  the 
books  yet,  just  as  he  did  then.  He  is  such  an  old  friend 
that  it  seems  almost  like  treachery  to  denounce  him. 
But  I  am  afraid  there  is  no  help  for  it.  The  detective 
of  fiction  is  a  fraud.  He  doesn't  exist;  in  fact,  he  is  im- 
possible. There  never  was  anybody  like  him  anywhere. 

The  detective  of  real  life  does  not  walk  about  in  dis- 
guise with  a  stage-whisper.  Very  far  from  it.  He  is  a 
man  of  the  most  practical  kind,  commonplace  he  might 
seem  to  some  of  my  disappointed  young  readers;  but  th;it 
would  not  be  quite  true,  except  in  so  far  as  devotion  to 
business  and  to  the  interests  of  those  who  place  their 
trust  in  him  is  commonplace,  which,  unfortunately,  it  is 
not  yet.  I  speak  of  the  successful  detective,  of  course. 
The  fact  is  that  with  him  the  detection  of  crime  is  a  busi- 
ness, a  matter  of  hard  work,  of  close  reasoning,  and,  above 
all,  of  a  persistence  that  refuses  to  acknowledge  defeat. 
He  succeeds  by  the  exercise  of  faculties  which  would 
make  him  succeed  in  any  other  line,  as  a  doctor,  for 
instance,  a  storekeeper,  or  a  lawyer,  and  pretty  much  in 
the  same  way.  He  must  have  the  ambition  to  find  out 
all  there  is  in  his  line,  and  the  patience  to  master  it  all. 
It  requires  a  lot  of  patience,  for  there  is  something  to 
learn  for  him  as  long  as  he  lives.  His  is  the  study  that 
of  all  is  most  exacting,  the  study  of  human  nature. 

He  must  know  the  secret  springs  of  men's  actions,  the 
motives  that  made  them  criminals,  their  habits  of  thought 
as  well  as  their  haunts,  and  the  company  they  keep. 
Aptness  for  this  sort  of  work  is  important — a  man  who 
has  none  of  it  cannot  become  a  successful  detective — but 


MARCH  19,  1S95. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


349 


study  is  even  more  so.  It  is,  as  I  said,  a  matter  of  rea- 
soning-. Guessing  one's  way  through  a  mystery  is  all 
very  well  in  books,  but  not  outside  of  them.  Disguises 
are  risky  and  impracticable.  The  real  detective  may 
venture  upon  au  occasional  pair  of  false  whiskers  in  the 
night-time  to  conceal  his  identity,  but  he  knows  that 
those  whom  he  pursues  have  sharp  eyes  and  quick  wits, 
and  places  very  little  reliance  upon  such  subterfuges. 
His  reason  and  experience  tell  him  that  they  are  worry- 
ing quite  as  much  to  escape  him  as  he  is  to  catch  them, 
and  that  if  he  keeps  a  cool  head  he  has  the  advantage  of 
them.  The  old  adage  "the  more  hurry  the  less  speed" 
is  as  true  of  thieves  as  of  honest  men.  In  his  haste  and 
anxiety  to  get  away  the  thief  or  murderer  will  sooner 
or  later  drop  some  hint  that  betrays  him.  He  cannot 
help  it.  Fear  has  warped  his  judgment.  The  detective 
knows  it,  and  has  only  to  keep  his  eyes  and  ears  open 
and  liis  mind  bright  and  at  work  to  make  sure  of  catch- 
ing up  in  the  end. 

It  is  this  knowledge  which  makes  him  attach  a  value 
to  facts  that  seem  to  the  untrained  eye  unimportant, 
and  which  persuades  the  credulous  sometimes  that  he 
is  possessed  of  an  extra  sense  denied  to  others.  It  is  not 
so.  It  is  only  common-sense  put  to  extra  good  use.  It 
is  his  training  that  does  it,  just  as  the  doctor's  training  en- 
ables him  to  diagnose  an  unsuspected  disease  from  symp- 
toms that  meant  nothing  to  the  uninstructed.  Straws 
show  which  way  the  wind  blows.  They  sometimes  show 
the  detective  which  way  his  prisoner  is  planning  to  escape. 
I  say  "his  prisoner"  purposely.  Itisin  that  spirit  a  detec- 
tive must  go  to  his  work.  From  the  moment  he  is  put  upon 
the  trail  of  a  criminal  he  must  be  his  prisoner  as  surely  as 
though  he  already  had  the  handcuffs  on  him.  In  his  lexi- 
con there  must  be  no  such  word  as  fail,  though  it  takes  him 
years  to  run  down  his  man.  It  is  that  kind  of  tenacity 
which  made  the  Bank  of  England  secure  against  thieves. 
They  know  that  the  Bank 
will  hunt  them  to  the  ut- 
termost ends  of  the  earth, 
and  spend  a  million  to 
avenge  the  theft  of  a  thou- 
sand. It  is  that  sort  of 
determination  which 

broke  up,  after  years  of 
patient  effort  that  often 
seemed  hopeless,  the  band 
of  burglars  that  robbed 
the  Manhattan  Savings- 
Ban  k  in  New  York,  and 
with  it  the  whole  system 
of  organized  thieving 
which  long  had  made  the 
city  unsafe. 

That  gre'at  crime  was 
an  illustration  of  the  kind 
of  game  of  wits  against 
wits  the  detective  plays 
with  the  thieves,  of  the 
qualities  that  win  it,  and 
the  service  the  men  are 
to  the  community.  The 
bank,  with  its  well-filled 
vault,  had  tempted  thieves 
for  years.  They  had  made 
more  than  one  attempt 
upon  it,  but  it  had  suc- 
cessfully resisted  them. 
Band  after  band  had  been 
organized  with  the  object 
of  robbing  it,  and  been  as 
often  dispersed,  accident- 
ally, its  members  being 
caught  in  other  thieving. 


One  master  mind  dominated  it  all,  and  always  reorgan- 
ized his  scattered  forces  with  the  old  aim.  He  finally  ac- 
complished it.  His  men  broke  into  the  bank  one  Satur- 
day night,  hound-  the  janitor,  and  robbed  the  vault  of 
bonds  worth  nearly  three  millions  of  dollars.  They  were 
registered  bonds,  and  proved  worthless  to  the  thieves.  It 
was  characteristic  that  for  their  long  years  of  labor,  with 
the  jail  always  as  the  alternative  of  success,  they  got  in 
the  end  only  a  paltry  few  thousand  dollars,  not  more 
than  any  one  of  them  could  have  spent  in  a  week  of  riot- 
ing. There  is  no  poorer  paid  trade  anywhere  than  that 
of  the  thief,  and  the  chances  are  all  against  him.  How- 
ever, in  the  long  fight  that  followed  with  the  police, 
and  which  ended  in  the  conviction  of  the  burglars,  they 
showed  that  they  had  both  brains  and  pluck.  Their  in- 
fluence reached  even  to  Washington,  where  Congress 
was  debating  a. bill  to  issue  duplicates  of  the  stolen  bonds, 
and  so  to  make  all  their  labor  go  for  nothing.  The  bur- 
glars were  finally  caught,  but  it  was  years  before  the  last 
one  was  run  down  and  captured.  All  of  that  time  my 
men  were  oil  his  trail,  and  though  they  often  lost  it,  they 
found  it  again.  Their  orders  were  to  fight  it  out  on  that 
line  to  the  end,  and  they  did.  The  result  was,  as  I  said, 
to  demonstrate  that  New  York  was  no  longer  to  he  a 
rendezvous  for  thieves,  and  they  took  the  hint.  We  have 
had  no  bank  burglary  here  since. 

The  good  detective  is  a  man  of  resources.  He  must 
know  how  to  adapt  himself  to  emergencies  that  are  liable 
to  arise  suddenly,  demanding  to  be  as  promptly  met.  A 
detective  who  hesitates  is  lost,  or  his  "case"  is,  which  is 
the  same  thing.  The  blackmailer  Welles,  who  wrote 
threatening  letters  to  Jay  Gould,  eluded  all  the  traps  we 
set  for  him,  and  had  fairly  exhausted  our  patience  and 
ordinary  resources,  when  the  novel  experiment  was  tried 
of  moving  upon  him  en  masse,  as  it  were.  Noticing 
that  all  his  letters  were  stamped  at  one  post-office  station, 


THE    REAL    AND    THE    UNREAL    DETECTIVE. 


350 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


and  having  tricked  him  by  an  advertisement  in  the  "  Per- 
sonal "  column  of  a  newspaper  into  sending  one  the  next 
day,  we  posted  a  letter-carrier  at  each  letter-box  in  the 
district,  and  a  detective  between  every  two.  The  letter- 
carrier  had  a  key  to  the  box,  and  was  to  open  it  every 
time  that  a  letter  was  dropped,  and  before  the  person  who 
had  dropped  it  was  out  of  sight.  If  it  was  addressed  to 
Jay  Gould  lie  was  to  raise  his  hat  as  a  signal  to  the  de- 
tective  watching  him.  If  not,  he  was  to  slip  a  rubber 
band  over  it  so  that  the  next  might  be  more  readily  iden- 
tified. It  took  some  two  hundred  men  to  carry  out  this 
plan,  but  it  succeeded,  and  black-mail  ceased  to  be  a  safe 
or  [laying  business  in  New  York.  In  an  hour  we  had 
our  man.  It  is  results  that  count  in  the  detective  busi- 
ness, and  justly.  No  effort  or  sacrifice  is  too  great  to 
achieve  such  an  end. 

Though  the  detective  of  the  story-books  does  not  exist, 
there  is  no  lack  of  romance  in  the  life  of  his  real  brother. 
Fact  is  indeed  often  stranger  than  fiction  to  those  who 
look  on  at  the  development  of  a  detective  "case."  Only 
the  actors  in  it  have  no  time  to  look  for  dramatic  situa- 
tions. If  they  had,  they  would  not  be  dramatic.  Unger, 
the  murderer  of  his  partner  in  the  butchering  business, 
brought  to  police  headquarters  with  blood-stained  hands, 
stubbornly  refusing  to  speak,  knowing  that  only  his  own 
tongue  could  betray  him  to  the  gallows,  was  a  wretched 
assassin  with  apparently  no  spark  of  humanity  or  con- 
science about  him.  But  when  he  was  put  in  a  cell  filled 
with  all  the  accessories  of  his  crime — the  blood  stained 
lounge  upon  which  he  cut  up  his  victim,  the  saw  and  the 
hatchet  he  did  it  with,  where  he  could  not  sit  down  with- 
out touching  some  of  it — and  cried  for  mercy,  his  sodden 
soul  stirred  to  its  bottom  by  an  aroused  conscience,  and 
tore  at  the  bars,  clamoring,  begging  to  be  let  out  lest  he 
go  mad,  confessing  all,  he  became  at  once  an  intensely 
dramatic  figure  full  of  human  interest,  arousing  pity  in 
the  mind  that  had  room  for  only  disgust  for  him  and 
his  crime  but  a  moment  before. 

So  with  McGloin,  "tough  "at  twelve,  and  murderer 
at  nineteen.  Within  a  week  after  the  murder  we  knew 
which  one  of  the  gang  had  shot  the  saloon-keeper  who 
came  upon  them  while  they  were  sacking  his  place. 
But  we  watched  them  more  than  six  months  before  get- 
ting the  proof  we  needed  to  convict.  Finally  I  had  the 
gang  arrested,  and  had  McGloiii  brought  to  me.  I  sat 
with  my  back  to  the  window.  Where  he  sat  he  com- 
manded a  full  view  of  the  yard.  While  I  talked,  a  door 
slammed  down  there,  and  there  were  steps  on  the  pave- 
ment. I  knew  that  one  of  his  three  comrades  who  saw 
him  fire  the  shot  was  being  brought  handcuffed  across 
the  yard.  I  saw  McGloiu  start,  and  asked  him  what 
was  the  matter.  "Nothing,"  he  said,  and  tried  to  look 
unconcerned.  But  he  turned  pale  as  death  when,  a  lit- 
tle later,  the  second  of  his  comrades  was  brought  in  be- 
tween two  policemen,  and  when  the  door  slammed  the 
third  time,  and  the  last  of  the  witnesses  was  led  across 
the  yard,  he  fell  at  my  knee,  and  begged  me  to  save  him 
from  the  gallows.  He  lived  to  recover  his  hardihood 
enough  to  invite,  on  the  night  before  he  was  hanged,  the 
detective  who  arrested  him  to  "come  up  to  the  wake; 
they  are  going  to  have  a  high  old  time  at  the  house." 
But  that  was  bravado,  not  bravery.  Murderers  are  rare- 
ly brave,  though  they  may  die  "game." 

When  all  is  said,  there  is  one  more  quality  the  detec- 
tive needs,  the  one  without  which  the  best  points  in  any 
mat)  are,  so  to  speak,  loose-jointed.  I  mean  discretion. 
He  must  know  how  to  hold  his  tongue,  an  excellent 
thing  for  any  man  or  boy  to  learn.  He  must  acquire 
the  habit  of  hearing  without  speaking.  And  he  hears 
so  much  which  it  were  better  for  all  concerned  to  forget, 
that  he  comes  by-and-by  to  resemble  an  iceberg'  in  this, 
that  the  biggest,  most  important  part  of  his  work  lies 
out  of  sight  where  no  man  ever  sees  or  hears  of  it.  But 


the  iceberg  is  a  danger  to  navigation,  particularly  the 
hidden  end  of  it.  In  that  the  good  detective  does  not 
resemble  the  iceberg.  What  he  hides,  he  hides  for  the 
good  and  for  the  credit  of  a  world  whose  shortcomings 
he  learns  early  to  pity.  So  far  from  being  an  obstruc- 
tion or  a  danger  he  is  just  the  reverse.  The  world  could 
ill  get  along  without  the  faithful  detective  to-day.  I 
think  it  could  not  get  along  at  all. 

If  I  have  taken  from  my  young  readers  a  fancied  idol, 
because  it  was  false,  I  have  given  them  something  in- 
strad  that  is  worth  knowing  and  keeping.  The  bogus 
hero  of  the  story-books  has  led  more  than  one  boy  astray, 
and  made  altogether  more  mischief  than  all  his  vaunted 
smartness  could  repair  were  he  real.  My  advice  to  the 
boys  of  to-day,  if  they  will  take  it,  is  to  let  the  lynx-eyed 
sleuth  with  the  catlike  step  severely  alone.  To  many 
boys  who  were  full  of  promise  once,  he  has  served  as  the 
introduction  to  the  acquaintance  of  ihe  real  detective  on 
business  which  neither  they  nor  he  relished. 


BUNKEY,  MONKEY,  AND  JIMMIEBOY. 

BY    JOHN    KENDRICK   BANGS. 

NEXT  to  his  father  and  mother  and  his  aunts  and  uncles 
and  liis  meals  there  was  nothing  Jimmieboy  liked  much 
better  than  Bunkey,  unless,  perchance,  it  happened  to  be 
Monkey.  The  three  were  always  together.  Bunkey — who  be- 
gan  life  as  a  canton-flannel  rabbit,  and  whose  name  of  Buu- 
nie  had  been  changed  by  Jimmieboy  to  Bmikey  for  reasons  best 
known  to  himself — was  a  very  quiet  creature.  It  was  said  by 
some  of  the  other  toys  in  the  nursery  that  Bunkey  was  stuffed 
with  cotton,  and  certain  it  was  that  his  ears  were  made  of  kid; 
but  he  was  very  inoffensive  in  spite  of  it  all,  and  never  iniar- 
relled  with  anybody  exce.pt  by  request.  Monkey  was  not  quite 
so  retiring  in  his  disposition  as  Bunkey — possibly  because  he 
was  nmde  of  plush,  and  had  real  kitten's  fur  for  hair,  and  a 
large  rubber  elastic  to  swing  on,  all  of  which  tended  to  make 
him  proud.  Nevertheless,  he  was  a  most  agreeable  companion, 
and  always,  even  when  engaged  in  one  of  the  quarrels  I  have 
already  mentioned,  wore  a  smile  on  his  face  that  was  truly  cap- 
tivating. Jinmiiehoy's  father  once  said  that  the  smile  was  a, 
misfit  one,  being  at  least  four  sizes  too  large  for  Monkey's  face, 
but  this  made  very  little  difference  after  you  had  known  Monkey 
for  a  few  days. 

It  was  at  night  that  Jiuimiehoy  most  strongly  showed  his  at- 
tachment to  Bunkey  and  Monkey.  For  some'  unexplained  rea- 
son he  could  never  go  to  sleep  unless  his  two  friends  were  at 
his  side. 

So  it  happened  that  on  one  beautiful  moonlight  night  last 
summer,  after  a  day  of  very  hard  play  together,  Jimmieboy  and 
Bunkey  and  Monkey  lay  sleeping  in  the  brass  crib  alongside  of 
I  he  big  oak  bedstead  in  which  Jimmieboy's  papa  slept.  One  of 
them  was  snoring  very  loud,  which  one  I  could  riot  at  the  mo- 
ment say,  though  I  suspected  it  was  Jimmieboy,  since  I  had 
never  seen  a  canton-flannel  rabbit  or  a  plush  monkey  that  could 
snore  quite  so  successfully  as  the  snore  that  night  was  being 
snored,  and  in  a  moment  I  knew  that  my  suspicions  were  cor- 
rect. The  noise  echoing  through  the  room  waked  Bunkey  up. 

"Dear  me,"  he  said,  "what  a  dreadful  racket!  It  sounds  as 
though  somebody  was  trying  to  saw  the  house  iu  two.  Hi! 
Monke\  .'" 

Monkey  opened  his  eyes,  sleepily,  and  shoved  the  bedclothes 
away  from  his  smile,  which  was  still  there,  broad  as  ever. 

"What?"  he  said. 

"I  can't  sleep  with  all  that  noise  going  on,  and  I  don't  see 
how  you  can,"  said  Bnnkey. 

"  I  couldn't  if  I  had  heard  it,"  said  Monkey  ;  "and  uow  that 
I  do  hear  it,  I  can't.  Who's  doing  it,  anyhow  t" 

"  I  thought  you  were,  at  tirst,"  returned  Bunkey  :  "  but  as  you 
are  awake.,  and  as  wide-awake  people  don't  snore,  I  suppose  it 
must  lie  .Jimmieboy.  Shall  I  wake  him  up  f" 

"No,"  answered  Monkey,  by  this  time  thoroughly  wide  awake. 
"Don't  let's  wake  him.  Let's  take  him  off  for  a  moonlight 
walk." 

•'  First-rate  scheme,"  returned  Buukey. 

"Elegant,"  murmured  Jimmieboy,  in  his  sleep.  "  Just  what 
I'd  like.  Where  shall  we  walk  to?" 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  said  Buukey.      "  Perhaps 


MARCH  19,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


351 


"  We'll  skip  across  the  deep  blue  sea, 

Or  scale  the  mountain  height; 
\\V11  caper  to  the  River  Dee, 

Or  climb  the  moonbeams   bright; 
We'll  nm  across  to  ancient  Rome, 

We'll  seek  the  Scottish  lakes — 
At  any  rate,  we'll  get  back  home 

In  time  for  buckwheat  cakes." 

'  Exactly,"  said  Monkey.      "  We'll  do  tbat,  unless 

"  We  trot  about  old  China's  walls, 

Or  rush  through  Germany, 
Or  visit  Montmorenci  Falls,     . 

Anil  thence  to  Tuscany  ; 
Or  out  to  see  the  frosty  rime 

Upon  the  Northern  Coast — 
But  surely  we'll  be  back  in  time 

For  hard-boiled  eggs  and  toast." 

As  Monkey  recited  these  lines  Jinnnieboy  seemed  to  see  him- 
self walking  down  a  wooded  lane.  On  one  side  of  him  walked 
Monkey,  and  on  the  other  hopped  the  long-eared  Bnnkey,  and 
never  before  had  either  of  them  acted  in  so  undignified  a  man- 
ner. Bnnkey,  for  instance,  would  stand  on  the  tip  of  his  ears, 
and  recite  such  ludicrous  rhymes  as  this: 

"  I  met  an  Ant  one  summer's  day, 

And,  mercy,  how  he  wept ! 
His  tears  quite  flooded  up  the  way, 
A-  down  his  cheeks  they  crept. 

"'See  here,  oh,  Ant,'  I  said  to  him. 

'  I'ray  lull  me  why  you  cry  V 
Is  it  for  trouble  or  a  whim 
That  tears  suffuse  your  eye'?' 

"  "Tis  disappointment,  gentle  sir,' 

11.    answered,  sobbingly. 
'I  am  an   Ant,  when  I'd  prefer 
An   I.'ucle  much  to  be."' 

And  Monkey — well,  his  behavior  was  absolutely  unaccount- 
able. He  would  stand  oil  the  extreme  point  of  his  tail  and 
whirl  and  whirl  about  until  Jimmieboy  was  afraid  be  would 
turn  into  a  top,  and  then  he'd  fall  flat  on  the  ground,  never  once 
forgetting  his  smile,  and,  beating  time  with  all  four  of  his  legs, 
he  would  siug  sougs  like  this: 

"  If  I  looked  like  a  battle-axe, 

A  shovel,  or  a  rake  ; 
The  fish  that  furnish  seal-skin  sacques; 
A  cat  or  box  of  carpet-tacks; 
A  gaudy  rattle-snake ; 

"A  green-house  or  a  coffee-pot; 

An  arm-chair  or  a  gnu  ; 
A  hammock  ,or  a  corner  lot, 
A  tennis-court  or  piece  of  shot, 
I  don't  know  what  I'd  do — 

"For  I  do  think  of  all  the  things 

There  are  on  land  or  sea — 
From  cisterns  up  to  noble  Kings — 
The  finest  with  or  without  wings 

Are  things  that  look  like   me." 

"It's  a  good  thing  you  are  satisfied,"  said  Bunkey.  "I  ad- 
mire that  in  you.  To  be  satisfied  under  the  circumstances 
would  be  too  much  of  a  strain  on  me. 

"For  candidly,  oh,  Monkey  dear, 
Although  you're  very  witty, 
I   really  must  remark,  I  fear, 
You're  not  what  I  call  pretty." 

"No,"  returned  Monkey,  "I  don't  think  myself  that  I  am 
pretty.  I  am  beautiful.  But  where  shall  we  go?" 

"Let  us  take  Jimmieboy  down  that  rabbit-hole  I  told  you 
about,"  replied  Bnnkey,  "and  show  him  the  Undergrouiidies, 
and  the  Rootle-tootle  birds,  and  the  wonderful  jewel-cave  where 
the  King  of  the  Rabbits  lives." 

"No,"' returned  Monkey.  "It  is  too  damp  uuder  the  ground. 
He'll  catch  cold  there.  Let's  take  him  up  that  Cocoannt-tree  I 
was  talking  to  you  about  night  before  last — the  oue  that  leads 
to  the  country  of  the  Upiut.heairies." 

"I  cannot  consent  to  that,"  said  Bunkey.  "  If  he  should  lose 
his  grip  while  he  was  climbing  and  fall  he  might  break  his  leg 
or  arm. 


"And  better  a  cold  in  the  head  say  I, 
And  better  a.  stuffed-up   nose 

Than   a   broken   pate, 

And  an  injured  gait 
From  a  couple  of  fractured  toes." 

"But  how  are  we  going  to  settle  our  difference,  then  *" 

••  1  don't  know." 

"We'll  have  to  leave  it  to  Jimmieboy,  I  snppose,"said  Monkey, 
with  a  sigh.  "Though  then-  isn't  :iuy  doubt  that  I  am  right." 

"That  reminds  me  of  a  conundrum,"  said  Bnnkey.  "When 
is  right  wrong  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  observed  Monkey.      "  When?" 

"When  yon  ought  to  go  to  the  left,"  returned  Buukey.  "I 
guess  we'll  have  to  leave  it  to  Jimmiei>o\ ." 

So  it  was  decided  to  let  Jimmieboy  settle  the  question  for 
himself.  Buukey  led  him  to  ;t  fallen  tree  at  the  side  of  the 
road,  and  sang  to  hirnras  follows. 

'•  If  you  would  see  a  wonderful  land, 

A  land  all  covered  with  gold, 
The  home  most  grand  of  a  happy  band, 
A  people  of  wealth  untold — 

"  If  you  would  see  why  the  rose-bush  grows, 

The  source  of  its  sweet   perfume, 
You'll  turn  your  toes   whither  I  propose, 
Where  the  Undergrouiidies   bloom. 

"We'll  slip   riijlit  down  in  this   rabbit-hole, 

We'll   visit  the  oak-tree's  root. 
We'll  meet  the  droll  and  musical  mole, 
That  plays  on  a  one-stringed  lute  , 

"  We'll  see  the  mines  of  copper  and  tin, 

Of  silver  and  coal  and  lead ; 
We'll  see  the  grin  of  the  munnikin 
Who  sits  at  the  Nation's  head. 

"  So  come,  oh,  come !     Come  along  with  me, 

And  come,  as  quick  as  yon   can, 
If  you  would   see  an   Underground)' 
Who's  never  been  seen  by  man." 

"  Indeed  I  will,"  cried  Jimmieboy,  with  a  broad  smile.  ''  I've 
often  said  I'd  like  to  go  underground  some  time  and  see  what 
there  was  there.  (Jo  ahead.  I'll  follow." 

"  Wait,"  observed  Monkey,  laying  his  hand  gently  on  Jimmie- 
hoy's  arm  to  detain  him — "  wait  till  you  hear  what  I  want  you 
to  do. 

"  If  you   would   witness  a   wondrous  sight, 

A  sight  that  is   fair  to  see, 
Just  take  up  your  flight   with  me  to-night, 
And  climb  up  this  leafy  ^tree. 

u  It  leads  to  the  land  that  knows  no  cares, 

A  land   that  is  filled   with  joys, 
That  teems  with  pears  and  humorous  bears, 
And  millions  of  funny  toys. 

"Its  streets  are  all  paved  witli  precious  stones, 

Of  sugar  the  houses  are  made, 
And  nobody  groans   with  aching  bone-, 
And  none  of  its  flowers  fade. 

"The  boys  all  do  whatever  they  please; 

The  brooks  are  teeming   «ith   tish ; 
There's  miles  of  cheese  and   honey  and  peas, 
And  all  of  the  jam  you  wish. 

"  So  come,  oh,  come  !     Come  along  with  me, 

And  come  as  quick  as  you  can, 
If  you   would  see  an  L-A-N-D 

That's  never  been  seen  by   man." 

"Perfectly  lovely  !" cried  Jimmieboy,  clapping  his  hands  with 
glee,  and  rushing  to  the  foot  of  the  tree.  "Give  me  a  boost. 
Monkey." 

"  Hold  on  !"  yelled  Buukey,  grabbing  Jimmieboy  by  his  gown. 
•'Hold  on.  You  were  going  do\\  n  the  rabbit-hole  with  me. 
Why,  my  dear  boy,  if  you  don't  go  down  there  with  me  now  you 
can  never  go,  and  then  you'll  miss  seeing  the  foiintain-Kead  of 
all  the  maple-syrup  there  is  in  the  world;  you'll  miss  seeing 
Diamond  River,  which  is  an  underground  stream  not  far  down 
that  tlows  along  like  water,  only  it's  all  diamonds,  and  the  most 
beautiful  ones  that  ever  were  made;  you'll  miss  meeting  the 
Elves  of  the  forests,  the  fairies  of  the  flower-roots — in  fact,  you'll 
miss  everything." 

"I'd   forgotten   all  about    that."  said  Ji.mmiebov.loo.-iug  his 


352 


HARPER'S    YOUNG    PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


WILLIE'S   INDEPENDENCE. 
I'VE  a  wheel  that  can  cleave  the  air, 

And  a  sleil  that  can  fly  like  a  shot; 
So,  to  tell  yon  the  truth,  I  do  uot  care 

Whether  it  snows  or  uot! 


VIOLINIST.  "Alice,  you  look  very  sweet  -this  evening.  What 
makes  your  hair  so  curly?" 

LITTLE  ALICE.  "  I  gness  because  you  have  been  playing." 

VIOLINIST.  ••  Dear  child !  But  what  can  that  have  to  do  with 
it?" 

LITTLE  ALICE.  "I  heard  mamma  say  that  your  playing  was 
enough  to  make  anybody's  hair  curl." 


JIMMIE  WATT. 

LITTLE  Jimmie  Watt  watched  the  cover  of  a  pot 
Dancing  up  and  down  like  a  dandy; 

Then  he  went  and   learned  a  trade, 

And  the  first  steam-engine  made, 
And  the  whole  world  found  it  very  handy. 


BUNKEY,  MONKEY,  AND  JIMMIEBOY  TAKE  A  MOONLIGHT  WALK. 


hold  on  the  tree,  and  running  to  the  mouth  of  the  rabbit-hole. 
"Of  course  I  can't  miss  that.  How  do  I  do?  Just  jump  right 
in?" 

"  Yes,"  returned  Buukey. 

"NO!"  roared  Monkey.     "If  you  go  with  him  you  won't  see 
mj'  place  np  the  tree.     Mind,  I  tell  yon.     This  is  the  only  chance 
ever  afforded  any  boy  to  go  there,  and  if  yon  say  no  this  time 
it's  no  forever;  and  I   can   tell   you  I  wouldn't   miss  seeing  a 
country  where   tatty  hangs  from  the  trees,  and  doesu't  cost  a 
cent;  where  soda-water,  flavored  any  way  you  want  it,  can  be 
pumped  right  out  of  the  ground,  and  where  there  is  a  free  circus 
going  on   all  the  time,  and  no  school    to  in- 
terfere   with   it  —  I   wouldn't  miss   that  for 
all  the  world." 

"Nor  I,"  said  Jimmieboy,  leaving  the  rab- 
bit-hole, and  standing  very  much  perplexed 
in  the  middle  of  the  road.  "But  I — I'd  kind 
of  like  to  see  Buukey's  place." 

"Then  why  don't  you  come?"  said  Buukey. 

"  Because  I  want  to  see  Monkey's  place," 
sobbed  Jimmieboy. 

"Oh,  come  along,"  said  Buukey  and  Mon- 
key together. 

And  each  of  the  two  small  creatures  took 
hold  of  one  of  Jimmieboy's  hands  and  tried 
to  get  him  to  go  his  way,  and  so  hard  did 
they  pull  that  Jimmieboy  thought  they 
would  tear  him  in  two.  To  save  himself 
from  that  horrible  fate  Jimmieboy  hurled 
them  from  him,  and — well,  Monkey  hit  a  vase 
on  the  mantel-piece,  and  as  for  Buukey,  I  am 
sorry  to  say  that  Buukey  lauded  squarely  on 
Jimmieboy's  papa's  favorite  eye,  which  made 
him  cry  out  so  loudly  that  Jimmieboy  waked 
up  and  found  that  it  was  all  a  dream.  That 
is,  it  was  all  a  dream  excepting  as  to  the  bro- 
keu  vase  on  the  mantel-piece  and  papa's  eye. 

I  know  that  these  two  things  really  hap- 
pened, because  the  vase  and  eye  were  mine. 


SUPERINTENDENT  (to  citizen  sweeping  the  streets  in  Hie  hot  sun- 
liylit).  "You'd  better  put  on  your  hat, Mike;  this  blazing  sun- 
shine will  affect  your  brain." 

MIKI:.  "Sure,  do  you  think  I'd  be  sweeping  the  streets  if  I 
had  any  brains, sir?" 

A  CITY   BOY'S   YEARNING. 
I  WISH  we  could  move  right  away  from  this  flat, 

Where  in  five  little  rooms  we  are  bound, 
For  I'd  like  to  be  out  in  the  country  once  more, 

To  dig  a  big  hole  in  the  ground. 


HE   WAS   THE  THIRD. 

"HE'S  your  first  cousin,  isn't  he?"  said  Mrs.  Dimling  to  six- 
year-old  Freddy,  alluding  to  a  new  baby  of  whom  Freddy  was 
very  fond. 

"  Oh  no,"  replied  Freddy.  "I  had  two  cousins  before  he  was 
born." 


TOMMY'S   PERPLEXITY. 
I  SEE  the  poor  sheepie  that  stands  in  the  rain, 

Aud  this  is  the  thing  I  am  thiukiug, 
"  Oh  how  can  he  get  all  his  wool  soaking  wet 

Aud  still  keep  from  shrinking  and  shrinking  ?" 


"MAMMA,  is  it  true  that  they  wear  snow- 
shoes  in  Alaska?" 

"  Certainly,' Teddie." 

"Don't  they  melt  when  they  go  in  the 
house?" 


AIN'T    IT    JEST    BLESSED    WE'VE    GOT    DIS   UMBERILLA  ? 


fm 


H. 


_HARPE 

YOUNG  PEOPLE 


x/ 


Copyright,  1895,  by  HARPKB  &  BROTHKES.     All  RigUta  Reserved. 


PUBLISHED    WEEKLY. 
VUL.  XVI.— NO.  804. 


NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY,  MARCH  26,  1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO   DOLLARS   A    TEA  It. 


A     GUEST    OF    TWO     NATIONS. 


BY     WILLIAM     DEYSDALE. 


V\7HEN  Harry  Carpenter  stood  in  the  great  telegraph 
\  V  office  in  New  York  talking  with  the  manager,  the 
clerks  at  the  neighboring  desks  hardly  took  the  trouble 
to  look  at  him.  He  was  only  applying  for  a  position  as 
operator,  and  there  were  dozens  of  such  applicants  every 
day.  But  if  they  had  known  wlvit  was  soon  to  happen 
they  would  have  looked  at  him  very  carefully,  and  most 
likely  they  would  have  cheered  him,  and  carried  him 
about  in  triumph.  For  it  is  not  every  New  York  boy 
who  by  a  turn  of  his  hand  can  save  scores  of  lives,  and 
set  a  navy  in  motion,  and  put  the  whole  world  to  talking, 
and  have  the  commander  of  a  fleet  take  him  under  his 
special  protection.  All  those  things  Harry  Carpenter 
was  soon  to  do. 

Harry  had  heard  the  familiar  answer  that  there  were 
a  hundred  applicants  for  every  vacant  position,  and  he 


was  about  to  retire,  disappointed,  when  somehow  it  came 
out  that  he  could  speak  Spanish.  That  put  a  new  face 
upon  the  matter  at  once,  for  the  manager  had  been  re- 
quested to  send  a  Spanish-speaking  operator  to  Cuba,  to 
assist  in  the  office  of  a  friendly  line  at  Santiago  de  Cuba. 
Harry  was  willing  to  go,  and  as  he  readily  satisfied  the 
manager  of  his  ability,  the  arrangement  was  soon  made. 
There  are  some  Americans  alive  to-day,  and  some  Eng- 
lishmen too,  who  owe  their  lives  to  that  appointment. 

Harry  was  at  this  time  a  little  past  sixteen  years  old, 
with  the  necessity  for  work  before  him,  and  no  capital 
but  his  public-school  education  and  his  knowledge  of  tel- 
egraphy. 

The  Spanish  ways  of  Cuba  seemed  strange  to  him  at 
first;  but  there  was  plenty  of  work  for  him  in  the  office, 
and  he  hardly  had  time  even  to  enjoy  the  beautiful  seen- 


354 


HAKPEE'S    YOUNG    PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVJ. 


ery.  It  was  not  only  the  land  wires  of  the  island  that  he 
had  to  work  upon,  but  the  cable  running  over  to  Jamaica, 
and  the  other  cable  to  Spain ;  and  cable  work  was  new  to 
him.  Nearly  every  day  there  was  something  exciting, 
for  Cuba  was  in  a  very  unsettled  state,  and  a  large  part 
of  the  business  was  sending  official  messages,  often  in  ci- 
pher. But  the  beginning  of  the  real  excitement  came 
when  Harry  had  been  on  the  island  about  six  weeks. 

That  was  the  day  when  a  Spanish  officer,  with  two  sol- 
diers, marched  into  the  office  and  announced  that  all  work 
must  stop. 

"The  line  is  seized  by  the  government,  gentlemen," 
the  officer  said.  "  No  despatches  whatever  are  to  be  sent 
out  until  further  orders." 

As  all  business  in  the  office  was  suspended  Harry  had 
nothing  to  do,  and  he  walked  out  with  another  young  op- 
erator and  found  the  streets  full  of  soldiers.  Civilians 
were  gathered  in  groups  trying  to  discuss  a  situation  that 
nobody  understood. 

"What  is  it?  What  does  it  all  mean?"  he  asked  a 
dozen  times,  but  no  one  could  answer.  Never  before  had 
he  seen  such  crowds  of  people  in  the  streets  of  old  Santi- 
ago, and  everybody  was  asking  the  same  questions,  and 
no  one  was  answering. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  the  boom  of  a  big  gun  from  the 
Castle  showed  that  a  war-ship  had  arrived  in  the  harbor. 

Harry  followed  the  crowds  down  to  the  water  front, 
and  there  he  saw  a  sight  that  made  him  wonder  more 
than  ever. 

For  there,  not  far  from  the  wharf,  lay  a  big  Spanish 
iron-clad,  and  close  by  the  iron-clad  a  small  merchant 
steamer  flying  the  American  flag.  The  smaller  steamer 
was  so  riddled  with  shots  and  so  torn  in  the  rigging  that 
it  was  only  too  plain  she  had  been  fired  upon  and  cap- 
tured. 

Before  long  preparations  were  begun  for  bringing  peo- 
ple ashore  from  the  merchant  vessel,  which  had  swung 
around  so  that  Harry  could  read  the  name  upon  her 
stern.  She  was  called  the  Virginius.  Troops  marched 
down  and  cleared  the  streets  and  the  wharves,  and  people 
from  the  ship  were  brought  ashore  in  lighters.  Harry 
had  been  hustled  back  by  the  soldiers,  but  he  was  still 
near  enough  to  see  that  some  of  the  men  landed  were 
Americans,  and  that  a  number  of  them  looked  astonish- 
ingly like  New-Yorkers.  They  were  all  handcuffed,  and 
slowly  they  were  marched  from  the  wharf  up  to  the 
gloomy  old  city  prison,  where  they  disappeared  behind 
the  big  gates.  There  must  have  been  sixty  or  seventy  of 
tli em,  Harry  thought. 

When  he  returned  to  the  office  that  evening  Harry 
found  two  of  the  soldiers  still  in  charge,  and  no  work  to 
be  done.  But  the  secret  of  the  seizure  was  out. 

"No  work  for  a  week,  Harry!"  his  companion  of  the 
afternoon  told  him.  "  Not  a  single  message  to  be  han- 
dled for  a  week!  That's  a  filibuster,  that  Virginius  they 
captured,  loaded  with  arms,  and  manned  by  Englishmen 
and  Americans  and  Cubans  who  were  coming  here  to 
raise  a  revolution.  The  Governor  is  going  to  shoot  ten 
of  them  every  morning  at  sunrise  till  they're  all  gone, 
and  not  a  despatch  is  to  be  sent  out  till  they're  all  fin- 
ished. He's  not  going  to  have  anybody  come  here  and 
interfere  with  him." 

"What!"  Harry  exclaimed,  "going  to  shoot  them! 
Without  any  trial,  to  shoot  a  lot  of  Englishmen  and 
Americans !  Why,  he'll  get  himself  into  a  terrible  scrape. 
What  will  the  English  and  American  consuls  have  to 
say?" 

"Oh,  they've  said  all  they  could,"  his  companion  an- 
swered. "They've  protested,  and  that's  all  they  can  do, 
because  they  cau't  get  a  message  through  this  office  for 
love  or  money.  At  sunrise  to-morrow  morning  you'll 
see  the  first  ten  shot,  if  you're  down  by  the  slaughter- 
house wall.  That's  where  they're  going  to  kill  them." 


It  made  Harry  feel  sick  at  heart  to  hear  that  his  coun- 
trymen were  to  be  butchered  in  this  way  without  even  a 
trial.  Somehow  he  seemed  to  have  a  personal  responsi- 
bility in  the  matter,  because  he  knew  how  to  use  the  tel- 
fgr.-i|ph  wires.  But  he  was  a  solitary  boy  without  friends, 
and  what  could  he  do  against  the  great  Spanish  nation. 

Next  morning  there  was  more  excitement  in  the  streets 
than  ever.  When  Harry  went  out  the  people  were  all 
discussing  it.  They  had  been  down  at  the  slaughter- 
house, thousands  of  them,  and  had  seen  the  first  ten  un- 
fortunate men — Americans  and  Englishmen,  and  men  of 
other  nations  —  stood  up  against  the  wall  and  shot  to 
death. 

There  was  no  work  to  be  done  that  morning,  but  Harry 
remained  in  the  office  with  the  soldiers,  for  he  disliked 
to  go  out  and  hear  people  talk  about  the  shooting.  The 
'  officer  was  gone,  and  only  the  two  privates  were  on 
guard.  Several  other  operators  were  about,  but  each 
had  affairs  of  his  own  to  interest  him.  It  was  about 
eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  there  came  a  com- 
motion in  the  street,  just  outside  the  office  windows.  A 
regiment  of  soldiers  were  inarching  past.  It  was  the 
regiment  the  two  guards  belonged  to,  and  one  of  them 
went  outside  the  door,  while  the  other  pressed  up  close 
to  the  window.  The  operators  crowded  to  the  windows, 
too,  and  for  a  moment  the  instruments  were  left  un- 
guarded. 

It  was  just  for  a  moment,  but  Harry  Carpenter  seized 
the  opportunity.  Standing  with  his  back  to  the  oper- 
ating-table, and  apparently  giving  all  his  attention  to  the 
crowd  outside,  he  reached  one  hand  behind  him  and  felt 
for  the  key  of  the  Jamaica  cable. 

"  Kst.,  Kst.,"  flashed  under  the  Caribbean  Sea,  that  be- 
ing the  call  for  Kingston,  Jamaica.  But  Harry's  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  the  window.  Apparently  he  was  ab- 
sorbed in  watching  the  soldiers,  and  the  noise  of  their 
marching  drowned  the  little  sound  of  his  key. 

The  signal  made  a  sensation  in  the  Kingston  office. 
For  nearly  twenty-four  hours  the  operator  had  been  try- 
ing to  call  up  Santiago,  but  Santiago  would  not  respond. 
He  did  not  know  that  Spanish  soldiers  had  prevented 
Santiago  from  answering.  Instantly  he  took  the  key 
and  flashed  back  the  reply  familiar  to  all  operators, 
"Ay — ay,  ay — ay." 

Still,  with  all  his  attention  fixed  upon  the  .soldiers, 
leaning  carelessly  back  against  the  table,  and  yet  watch- 
ing the  guard  inside,  for  he  knew  that  to  be  caught  at 
this  meant  a  bullet  for  him,  Harry  ticked  off  his  little 
message  to  Jamaica : 

"Terrible  times  here,"  the  message  said.  "They're 
murdering  Englishmen,  Americans,  and  men  of  all  na- 
tions." 

That  was  all;  and  the  sending  it  took  only  a  moment 
or  two.  When  it  was  done  and  the  key  clicked,  Harry 
was  still  leaning  against  the  table,  still  watching  the  sol- 
diers as  they  marched  past. 

Before  the  last  company  of  soldiers  had  passed  the 
Santiago  telegraph  office,  the  operator  in  Kingston,  Ja- 
maica, was  pondering  over  the  sheet  of  paper  lying  be- 
fore him,  upon  which  he  had  just  written  the  few  words 
received : 

"Terrible  times  here.  They're  murdering  English- 
men, Americans,  and  men  of  all  nations." 

Beside  him  was  the  key  of  the  private  wire  leading  to 
the  Governor's  house,  and  almost  in  the  same  breath 
Harry  Carpenter's  despatch  was  on  its  way  to  the  British 
Governor  of  Jamaica. 

It  is  doubtful  whether  Harry  would  have  enjoyed  his 
late  Cuban  breakfast  that  morning  if  he  had  known  that 
while  he  was  eating  it  the  Governor  of  Jamaica  was  pre- 
paring to  send  his  message  five  thousand  miles  under  the 
sea  to  the  British  Admiralty. 

The  last  cup  of  coffee  would   certainly  have   clicked 


MARCH  26,1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


355 


him  if  he  had  known  while  drinking  it  that  at  that  mo- 
ment the  Lords  of  the  Admiralty  in  London  had  their 
powerful  heads  together  over  his  despatch,  and  had  con- 
cluded that  it  was  of  importance,  and  were  preparing 
this  important  cablegram  to  be  flashed  under  the  ocean  to 
Jamaica : 

"•  Knoalton,  Admiralty,  etc.,  Port  Royal: 

"  You  will  immediately  despatch  the  Destruction  and 
Dauntless  to  Santiago  de  Cuba,  under  full  steam,  to  give 
any  protection  that  may  be  needed  by  the  British  and 
other  foreign  residents  of  that  city. 

"  By  order  of  the  Admiralty, 

"  GOWER,  Naval  Secretary." 

It  was  a  hard  and  uncomfortable  bed  that  Harry  slept 
on  that  night.  Toward  morning  he  sprang  out  of  bed  at 
a  bound.  He  had  heard  the  voice  of  some  powerful  can- 
non speaking  its  deep  yet  sharp  "  Boom  !'' 

It  was  not  the  sound  of  the  saluting  gun  in  the  Castle, 
•either;  he  had  learned  to  know  that  sound.  This  was 
much  deeper,  much  sharper.  He  hardly  had  his  wits 
collected  before  the  Castle,  gun  answered  with  a  much 
feebler  "  Boom!" 

The  only  explanation  of  the  two  shots  was  that  a  war- 
ship had  arrived. 

It  happened  so  quickly  that  Harry  had  no  time  to  think 
about  it.  He  caught  up  a  handful  of  clothes,  and  was 
trying  to  dress  himself  in  the  dark,  when  both  sounds 
were  repeated — a  deep,  sharp  report,  and  then  the  feeble 
answer  from  the  Castle.  This  meant  that  two  war-ships 
had  arrived ! 

"Two  British  men-of-war  coming  in!"  he  heard  some 
one  say  in  Spanish  before  he  reached  the  wharf. 

"Now  our  Governor  will  catch  it!"  somebody  else  said. 
"  I  knew  he  could  not  shoot  foreigners  that  way  without 
getting  into  trouble.  I  wonder  whether  they'll  shell  the 
city?" 

Meanwhile  the  two  British  war-ships  were  moving  up 
the  harbor. 

"Oh!"  he  exclaimed,  under  his  breath,  "  it  is  just  sun- 
rise !  But  surely  they'll  never  dare  to  shoot  another  lot 
of  prisoners  this  morning,  with  these  British  war-ships  in 
the  harbor!" 

The  answer  came  within  a  second.  It  was  a  rattle  of 
musketry  up  at  the  slaughter-house,  and  a  shout  from  the 
people.  Ten  more  Americans  and  Englishmen  had  been 
shot. 

Instantly  there  was  a  commotion  among  the  officers  of 
the  Destruction. 

"Oh-h-h!"  It  was  not  a  shout  from  the  people,  it  was 
more  like  a  suppressed  groan.  For  the  Spanish  soldiers 
had  driven  the  British  officers  back  with  their  bayonets, 
and  refused  to  let  them  land.  The  people  were  growing 
violently  excited.  They  realized  the  madness  of  this  act, 
and  knew  that  it  might  endanger  the  city,  and  even  their 
lives.  What  would  be  left  of  them  if  those  British  ships 
should  avenge  the  insult?  However,  the  moan  changed 
to  a  shout  the  next  moment. 

' '  Hurrah !  hurrah  !  See !  The  Consuls,  the  Consuls !" 
The  crowd  cheered  with  all  the  power  of  their  lungs. 

Harry  looked  out  upon  the  water,  where  everybody 
was  looking,  and  saw  a  beautiful  launch  steaming  rapidly 
toward  the  Destruction.  His  heart  seemed  to  be  in  his 
throat  when  he  saw  the  colors  the  launch  carried;  for 
there  at  the  stern  floated  the  flags  of  England  and  of  the 
United  States  side  by  side.  The  Consuls  of  the  two  great 
nations  were  in  that  boat,  going  out  to  ask  the  vessels  to 
protect  their  countrymen. 

There  was  a  long  interval  of  quiet  then,  and  Harry 
determined  to  walk  up  to  the  telegraph,  office.  It  was  a 
pity  that  he  started  away  just  when  he  did,  for  if  he  had 
waited  a  few  minutes  longer  he  would  have  seen  another 


boat  come  ashore  from  the  Destruction,  and  have  seen 
the  officer  in  her  stern  hand  a  large  letter  to  the  com- 
mander of  the  soldiers,  and  then  return  to  the  ship.  This 
letter  was  addressed  to  the  Governor,  and  it  was  well 
that  the  excited  people  did  not  know  what  it  contained. 
This  was  what  it  said  : 

"7b  the  Governor,  etc.,  Santiago  de  Cuba: 

"SlR, — I  have  the  honor  to  inform  you  that  at  twelve 
o'clock  noon  this  clay  I  shall  open  fire  upon  the  city  of 
Santiago  with  her  Britannic  Majesty's  ships  Destruction 
and  Dauntless,  unless  before  that  time  I  receive  satis- 
factory assurance  that  no  more  British  or  other  foreign 
subjects  shall  be  shot  without  due  process  of  law. 

"  I  am,  etc.,  HUNTER, 

"  Senior  Officer  Commanding  British  Squadron 
in  Santiago  Harbor." 

Soon  after  the  delivery  of  this  letter  there  was  plenty 
of  work  for  Harry  to  do.  Messages  began  to  fly  between 
Santiago  and  Havana  —  official  messages  between  the 
Governor  and  his  superior,  the  Governor  -  General  in 
Havana.  But  they  were  all  in  cipher,  and,  of  course,  he 
knew  nothing  of  what  they  contained.  The  work  was  a 
relief  to  his  mind,  however,  and  he  was  beginning  to  feel 
almost  at  ease,  when  at  about  eleven  o'clock  a  young 
stranger  in  citizen's  dress  stepped  into  the  office  and  look- 
ed sharply  into  the  faces  of  all  the  operators.  Going  up 
to  Harry,  after  a  scrutinizing  look,  he  said  to  him, 

"  Can  I  see  you  outside  for  a  moment?" 

"  Certainly, "Harry  replied;  and  tiiey  walked  out  into 
the  street  together. 

"Are  you  an  Englishman?"  the  stranger  asked,  when 
they  were  well  away  from  the  office. 

"No,  sir;  I  am  an  American,"  Harry  replied. 

"Is  there  any  other  Englishman  or  American  employ- 
ed in  the  office?"  was  the  next  question. 

"  No,"  Harry  replied;   "  I  am  the  only  one." 

".Then,"  the  stranger  said — and  he  put  his  head  close  to 
Harry's  and  spoke  in  a  low  tone — "  then  you  are  the  man 
who  sent  the  news  of  the  massacre  over  to  Jamaica?" 

Harry  stopped  and  looked  closely  at  his  companion, 
doubtful  whether  it  would  be  safe  to  make  the  admission. 
But  the  man  was  neither  Spaniard  nor  Cuban,  and  as  he 
spoke  English,  he  must  be  a  friend.  "Yes, "he  replied; 
"  I  sent  the  message  to  Jamaica." 

"I  thought  so,"  the  other  said;  "it  was  a  good  day's 
work,  too,  though  it  was  a  big  risk  for  you.  I  am  from 
the  Destruction,  and  the  Captain  sent  me  to  bring  you  on 
board." 

"  Bring  me  on  board!"  Harry  exclaimed.  "Why,  if  I 
go  there,  they  will  know  who  sent  the  message,  and  they'll 
murder  me  when  I  come  back." 

"They  will  murder  you  if  you  stay  here,"  the  man  re- 
plied. "I  think  that  is  the  reason  the  Captain  wants  you 
on  board." 

It  was  soon  settled  that  Harry  should  visit  the  Destruc- 
tion; and  after  he  had  obtained  leave  of  absence  from  the 
office  and  started  for  the  wharf  with  his  new  friend,  the 
startling  news  came  to  him  of  the  threat  to  bombard  the 
city.  The  news  was  public  property  now;  it  had  leaked 
out  in  some  way,  and  every  one  knew  of  it,  and  the  peo- 
ple in  the  streets  were  more  excited  than  ever. 

When  he  was  received  by  Captain  Hunter  on  board  the 
Destruction,  that  gentleman  relieved  his  mind  by  telling 
him  that  all  danger  of  his  bombarding  the  city  was  past : 
that  the  Governor  had  backed  completely  down— had  been 
suspended,  in  fact,  by  the  Governor-General  in  Havnnn. 
who  disavowed  all  the  Governor's  acts,  and  apologized 
for  them,  and  promised  to  make  such  restitution  as  he 
could.  The  remaining  prisoners,  he  said,  would  be  prop- 
erly tried,  and  all  but  the  ringleaders  would  doubtless  cs 
cape. 


356 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


"I  am  sorry  you  are  not  an  Englishman," the  Captain 
added,  "for  if  you  were,  you  would  get  a  Victoria  Cross 
for  what  you  have  done.  But  you  have  rendered  us  a 
great  service,  and  you  must  be  the  guest  of  my  nation 
on  board  the  Destruction  till  I  can  laud  you  in  Jamaica, 
for  you  are  not  safe  here." 

But  Harry  was  not  destined  to  remain  long  the  guest 
of  the  British  nation  on  board  the  Destruction,  because  a 
few  hours  later  the  United  States  Avar-ship  Monongahela 
steamed  into  the  harbor,  hastily  ordered  over  from  Key 
West  on  receipt  of  the  news  from  London.  The  Monon- 
gahela's  Captain,  when  he  heard  the  story,  insisted  upon 
taking  him  under  the  protection  of  the  Stars  and  Stripes 
on  his  own  vessel;  and  so  the  young  operator  became  the 
guest  of  two  great  nations  in  one  clay.  When  the  Monon- 
gahela was  soon  afterward  ordered  to  the  Brooklyn  Navy- 
yard,  Harry  was  her  only  passenger. 

On  the  voyage  home  the  Captain  advised  him  not  to  go 
back  to  the  great  telegraph-office  until  he  himself  had  seen 
the  manager.  And  the  Captain's  talk  with  the  manager 
must  have  been  a  convincing  one,  for  when  Harry  enter- 
ed the  big  office  again  he  was  received  as  a  young  hero 
should  be,  and  among  all  the  positions  vacant  he  was 
given  his  choice. 

The  official  thanks  of  the  two  nations,  and  the  more 
substantial  rewards — those  things  came  afterwards. 


THE  LIGHT-HOUSE  AND   THE  MAEINER. 

BY  W.  J.   HENDERSON. 

FOR  three  days  and  nights  the  heavens  had  been  over- 
cast. From  horizon  to  horizon  a  pall  of  cold  gray 
clouds  hung  over  the  angry  ocean.  In  the  midst  of 
all  this  turmoil  a  big  iron  ship  went  staggering  over  the 
wild  mountains  and  thundering  down  into  the  hollows, 
where  she  buried  her  lean  and  dripping  prow  in  dazzling 
caldrons  of  seething  foam.  Her  master  and  her  mate 
stood  by  the  starboard  mizzen  rigging,  on  which  each 
had  a  firm  grip. 

" Silsbee,"  said  the  Captain,  "I'd  give  a  pocketful  of 
money  to  be  sure  of  our  position." 

"So  would  I,  sir,"  responded  the  mate,  "but  it's  too 
much  to  expect  after  three  days  of  dead  reckoning." 

"One  thing  I'm  sure  of,"  said  the  Captain,  "there's 
land  near  us,  for  the  sea  is  much  easier  than  it  was  last 
night.  But  what  land?  I'm  almost  tempted  to  heave 
to." 

"Land  ho!"  came  the  hoarse  cry  from  forward. 

"Where  away?"  shouted  the  Captain. 

"  Broad  off  the  weather  bow,  sir." 

"  I  see  it.  Silsbee,  get  the  bearing  of  that  light,  quick!" 
On  the  starboard  bow  the  Captain  saw  a  bluff  about  one 
hundred  and  fifty  feet  high.  At  its  summit  was  a  red 
brick  house  with  stone  trimmings.  The  house  had  a 
large  octagonal  tower,  and  about  one  hundred  feet  away 
stood  a  smaller  detached  building. 

"Block  Island  southeast  light-house,"  exclaimed  the 
Captain,  with  an  air  of  relief.  "How  does  it  bear,  Sils- 
bee?" 

"  West-nor'west,  sir." 

"Bring  her  up  two  points,  and  hold  that  till  we  get  it 
abeam, "said  the  Captain.  It  was  evidently  his  intention 
to  fix  the  ship's  position  by  the  "bow  and  beam"  bear- 
ing. The  ship  was  now  at  her  first  position,  heading 
nearly  west-sou'west,  and  the  light  was  just  four  points 
off  her  bow.  The  Captain  knew  that  when  it  was  ex- 
actly abeam,  the  distance  of  the  light  from  the  ship  would 
be  precisely  equal  to  the  distance  run  between  the  two 
bearings.  In  twenty  minutes  the  light  was  abeam,  and 
the  log  showed  that  the  ship  had  made  four  and  two- 
third  miles.  The  light  was,  therefore,  that  far  away, 
bearing  nor'-nor'west,  and  hence  the  exact  position  of  the 


"LIGHT    HO!" 


ship  at  the  second  bearing  was  four  and  two-third  miles 
south-southeast  of  Block  Island  light. 

"Keep  her  as  she  is,"  said  the  Captain,  "till  we  get  a 
good  olfing.  Then  lay  the  course  west-sou'west  a  half 
west.  That'll  about  fetch  Sandy  Hook  lightship  on  the 
lee  bow,  allowing  for  what  leeway  we'll  make.  I'm  go- 
ing below  and  take  a  nap." 

So  the  faithful  light-house  told  the  mariner  where  he 
was  even  in  the  daytime. 

A  graceful  steel  schooner -yacht  was  gliding  swiftly 
over  the  undulating  sea  toward  New  York.  Her  cap- 
tain had  met  with  an  accident,  and  was  lying  in  his 
bunk.  One  of  the  owner's  guests,  a  young  man  who  had 
not  thought  of  the  subject  of  navigation  since  he  left  An- 
napolis five  years  previously,  had  been  put  in  command. 

"When  shall  we  sight  Fire  Island  light?"  asked  the 
owner. 

"According  to  my  calculations,"  answered  the  navi- 
gator, "at  nine  o'clock." 

At  8.30  a  man  was  sent  aloft  to  look  for  the  light.  The 
hour  of  nine  arrived  and  no  light  was  reported.  The 
young  navigator  was  alarmed.  He  did  not  know  where 
the  yacht  was.  Minutes  passed  by  and  seemed  like  hours. 
At  9.07  the  lookout  cried: 

"Light  ho!" 

"Where  away?"  called  the  navigator,  joyfully. 

"Two  points  off  the  lee  bow,  sir,"  was  the  answer. 

A  few  minutes  later  the  navigator  said  to  the  owner, 
"  At  9.07  the  yacht  was  twenty-five  and  a  half  miles  east- 
southeast  of  Fire  Island  light." 

"  How  do  you  know  the  distance?" 

"According  to  the  light-house  list  Fire  Island  is  visi- 
ble nineteen  and  a  quarter  miles  in  clear  weather  to  an 
observer  whose  eye  is  fifteen  feet  above  the  level  of  the 
sea.  Your  foretop  is  fifty  feet  above  it,  so  I  had  to  add 
the  distance  visible  for  the  other  thirty-five  feet." 

"  How  do  yoi»  get  at  that?" 

"  From  the  table  in  Bowditch's  Navigation,  or  by  ap- 
plying the  rule  that  the  distance  of  an  object  seen  at  sea 


MARCH  20,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


357 


is  equal  to  the  square  root 
of  the  height  of  the  eye  mul- 
tiplied by  1.0(5." 

"Well,  I  declare!  What 
a  lot  of  tricks  there  are  in 
managing  a  ship!  But 
how  do  you  know  you 
haven't  sighted  some  other 
light  than  Fire  Island?'1 

"Well,  I  know  the  light 
by  its  character.  There  are 
only  three  lights  on  the 
south  shore  of  Long  Island 
— Monlauk  Point,  Shinne- 
cock,  and  Fire  Island.  If 
they  were  all  alike  it  would 
be  easy  enough  for  a  ship  a 
few  miles  out  of  her  reckon- 
ing to  mistake  one  for  the 
other.  But  Montauk  Point 
light  is  fixed  white,  varied 
by  a  white  flash  every  two 
minutes;  Shinnecock  is 
fixed  white;  and  E'ire  Island 
is  a  white  flash  light,  flash- 
ing once  every  minute." 

With  these  valuable  facts 
in  his  head,  the  young  navi- 
gator from  Annapolis,  hav- 
ing fixed  the  position  of  the 
yacht,  steers  boldly  for  San- 
dy Hook  lightship. 

At  nine  o'clock  that  same  evening,  just  when  the  young 
navigator  of  the  yacht  was  troubled  because  he  did  not 
see  Fire  Island  light,  a  man-of-war  was  making  her  way 
into  New  York.  All  around  the  shores  glittered  lights 
of  various  kinds,  but  there  were  some  which  the  experi- 
enced eye  of  her  navigator  knew  were  beacon  lights.  The 
first  -which  he  had  seen  as  the  vessel  came  rushing  in 
from  the  ocean  were  two  powerful  white  lights  which  he 
recognized  as  the  Highland  Lights.  The  man-of-war 
had  come  all  the  way  from  the  Pacific,  and  her  navi- 
gator, whose  service  had  been  wholly  in  that  ocean  and 


FIXING    THE    SHIP'S    POSITION    BY    THE    "BOW    AND    BEAM"    BEARING. 


on  the  China  station,  had  never  before  taken  a  vessel  into 
New  York  Bay.  But  as  he  stood  on  the  bridge  and  stud- 
ied the  chart,  he  said  to  the  Captain: 

"It's  pretty  plain  sailing,  sir,  to  go  into  a  harbor 
lighted  like  this  one  on  a  clear  night.  Yonder  are  the 
Highland  Lights,  and  the  fonetop  has  sighted  two  red 
lights  dead  ahead,  and  they're  on  the  Sandy  Hook  light- 
ship. We've  got  to  get  a  little  more  northing  to  enter 
the  Gedney  Channel." 

Some  time  later  the  ship  was  entering  the  Gedney 
Channel.  Away  over  on  the  New  Jersey  mainland,  di- 
rectly ahead  of  her,  at 
the  place  marked  A,  stood 
two  lights,  one  close  to 
the  water  and  one  some 
distance  inland. 

"Those  are  the  main 
channel  range  lights," 
said  the  navigator.  "  The 
one  in  front  is  Point  Com- 
fort Beacon,  and  the  one 
in  the  rear  is  Waackaack 
Beacon.  •  By  keeping 
them  exactly  in  range 
over  the  bow  of  the  ship 
we  go  through  the  main 
channel  all  right.  Now 
we  come  to  the  place 
where  Sandy  Hook  light 
and  the  South  Beacon, 
at  B,  come  in  range,  and 
so  we  change  our  course 
so  as  to  keep  them  in 
range  over  the  stern.  We 
hold  that  course  till  we 
reach  the  point  where 
the  Conover  and  Chapel 
Hill  Beacons,  at  C,  come 
in  range,  and  then  we 
change  our  course  so  as 
to  keep  them  in  range 


ENTERING    NEW  YORK    HARBOR    AT    NIGHT. 
A.  Ft.  Comfort  and  Waackaack  Lishts ;  B.  Sandy  Hook  and  South  Beacon  Lights ;  Conover  and  Chapel  Hill  Lights  unseen. 


358 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


over  the  stern.  Now,  sir,  we  have  rounded  the  point  of 
the  shoal  known  as  the  Southwest  Spit,  aud  are  head- 
ing for  the  Narrows." 

"Very  good,"  said  the  Captain;  "I  see  you  know 
where  you  are." 

But  what  have  we  learned  from  the  experiences  nar- 
rated? We  have  learned  that  a  light-house  is  not  always 
intended  to  mark  a  hidden  danger  and  so  warn  the  sailor 
against  running  upon  it.  Many  light-houses  are  erected 
for  that  purpose;  but  all  light-houses,  no  matter  where 
.they  stand,  have  one  general  ohject,  and  that  is  to  act  as 
guides  to  the  sailor. 


AUNT   SELINA'S   MISTAKE.- 

BY  FLORENCE  HALLOWELL  IIOYT. 
CHAPTER   I. 

T1HE  bright  May  sunshine  pouring  in  one  morning  at 
the  open  windows  of  a  bedroom,  on  the  second  floor 
of  a  big  white  frame  house  oil  the  outskirts  of  a  village 
in  eastern  Tennessee,  fell  full  upon  the  yellow  head  of 
a  little  girl  who  sat  on  the  floor  with  an  old-fashioned 
jewel-box  in  her  lap.  Her  round  healthy  face  wore  an 
expression  of  great  pleasure,  for,  like  most  little  girls  of 
her  age,  Llda  Ann  Darrow  liked  finery  of  any  kind. 

"This  is  mine — my  very,  very  own,"  she  said,  as  she 
slipped  on  the  third  finger  of  her  left  hand  a  ring  set 
with  an  opal  and  seven  small  diamonds. 

"  Yes,  that's  yours,"  acquiesced  her  grandmother, 
glancing  up  from  her  knitting;  "  'n'  if  you  behave  your- 
self you'll  have  it  when  you're  turned  eighteen." 

Lida  Ann  sighed  as  she  dropped  the  ring  back  into  the 
little  space  reserved  for  it  in  the  tray  of  the  jewel-box. 
She  wished  she  were  eighteen  now.  How  she  would  en- 
joy showing  the  ring  to  all  her  girl  friends  in  the  village! 

She  liked  to  look  over  the  contents  of  that  jewel-box. 
She  knew  the  history  of  every  article  in  it,  from  the  little 
gold  thimble  which  had  been  her  mother's  when  a  child 
to  the  heavy  open-faced  watch  which  had  belonged  to 
her  grandfather  French. 

"I  believe  Silas  Sparrow's  brought  that  child,"  said 
old  Mrs.  French,  looking  out  of  the  window  by  which 
she  was  sitting.  She  laid  her  knitting  on  the  table. 
"I'm  goin'  right  down,"  she  added. 

A  little  frown  puckered  Lida  Ann's  brow.  She  closed 
the  cover  of  the  old  box  with  a  snap. 

"I  don't  see  why  you  wanted  to  send  for  her,  grand- 
ma," she  said,  crossly. 

"  Oh,  you  mustn't  be  selfish.  It  '11  be  good  for  you  to 
have  another  little  girl  around,"  answered  Mrs.  French, 
as  she"  left  the  room. 

Lida  Ann  followed  slowly,  after  carefully  returning 
the  jewel-box  to  its  accustomed  place  in  the  top  drawer 
of  the  bureau. 

When  she  reached  the  head  of  the  stairway  she  looked 
down  into  the  hall  below  and  saw  her  grandmother,  Aunt 
Selina,  and  a  stout  man  with  a  red  beard  standing 
around  a  little  girl  of  about  nine  years  of  age.  Dinah,  a 
fat  old  colored  woman,  who  was  their  only  servant,  was 
looking  in  at  the  back  door,  her  hands  on  her  hips. 

The  child  was  a  wild-looking  little  creature,  with  a 
tangled  mass  of  dark  curls  and  very  black  eyes.  She 
wore  a  faded  blue  gingham,  her  feet  were  bare,  and  in 
one  hand  she  swung  a  calico  sun-bonnet.  Her  mouth 
was  shut  tight,  and  she  stared  from  one  to  the  other  of 
those  about  her  with  a  defiant  expression  on  her  small 
pinched  face. 

"Oh  dear!  I  didn't  know  she'd  be  like  this,"  said 
Grandma  French. 

"  It's  just  what  /  expected — exactly,"  said  Aunt  Selina. 

"Well,  ye  ain't  ableeged  ter  take  her,  ye  know,'' 
drawled  Silas  Sparrow.  "  Ther'  ain't  no  law  'gainst 


backin'  out,  as  I  knows  on.      I  c'n  tek  her  right  along  ter 
Dug  Marsh's  place." 

"But  there  ain't  any  children  at  the  poor-house,  'n'  I 
know  Mrs.  Marsh  won't  like  bavin'  her,"  said  Mrs. 
French.  "  I  don't  know  what  to  do!" 

"You  know  I  said  you'd  better  think  twice  before  of- 
ferin',"  observed  Miss  Selina.  "But  that's  just  you  all 
over,  mother.  You're  too  kind-hearted  for  your  own 
good." 

"She  'ain't  bed  no  care  since  her  mam  died,"  said 
Silas,  his  eyes  bent  critically  on  the  little  waif.  "She's 
jest  laid  around  'most  anywheres.  'Tain't  any  wonder 
she's  sorter  peaked  lookinV 

"  Oh,  grandma,  don't  keep  her,"  whispered  Lida  Ann, 
who  had  slipped  down  the  stairs  and  was  standing  just 
behind  her  grandmother.  "  We  don't  want  her  here." 

"An'  I  don't  aim  ter  stay  hyah,  neither,"  broke  out 
the  little  girl,  flashing  a  fierce  look  at  Lida  Ann  through 
a  glittering  rnist  of  tears.  "An'  I  ain't  goin'  ter  no  poor- 
house.  I  knows  my  way  back  ter  our  place.  I  ain't 
skeered  o'  110  woods;  thar  ain't  nothin'  goin'  ter  tech 
me." 

Those  glittering  tears  in  the  large  black  eyes,  and  the 
thought  that  the  child  might  indeed  make  her  way  back 
to  the  desolate  mountain  cabin,  where  her  mother  had 
died,  proved  too  much  for  Mrs.  French's  tender  heart. 

"You  poor  little  soul!"  she  said;  "I'm  goin'  to  keep 
you,  no  matter  ivho's  against  it.  I  don't  reckon  you'll 
make  me  sorry  for  it.  Lida,  quit  pullin'  at  my  dress; 
you  ain't  to  say  another  word." 

"Who's  to  wash  her,  V  comb  out  that  mop?"  asked 
Miss  Selina. 

"I  reckon  I  c'n  do  it,"  answered  her  mother.  "The 
washiii'  '11  come  easy,  'n'  I  uster  be  a  master  hand  at  curlin* 
my  own  hair  when  I  was  a  girl.  Don't  you  worry,  Se- 
lina." 

"  Well,  I'll  be  goin',  then,  I  reckon,"  said  Silas.  "  Lem- 
me  know  ef  you  cyant  get  erlong  with  her.  She  looks 
mighty  spirited  for  such  a  little  thing." 

Mrs.  French  took  the  little  girl  by  the  hand,  and  led 
her  up  stairs.  The  child  made  no  resistance.  She  did 
not  utter  a  word,  but  stared  about  her  with  curious  eyes. 
All  her  life  hitherto  had  been  spent  in  that  mountain 
cabin,  the  nearest  neighbor  half  a  mile  away. 

"  I  reckon  you  'ain't  never  been  in  many  houses  like 
this  one,"  said  Grandma  French,  noticing  how  the  child 
stared  at  everything. 

"I  'ain't  never  sawn  one  like  this  afore,"  answered  the 
little  girl.  "It's  sho'ly  fine.  But  I  don't  aim  ter  stay 
hyah.  I  aims  ter  go  back.  I  ain't  goin'  ter  stay  whar  I 
ain't  wanted." 

"  Well,  you  are  wanted,"  rejoined  Mrs.  French.  "If 
I  hadn't  wanted  you  I  wouldn't  have  kept  you." 

"That  little  gal  down  thar  en  thet  tall  ooman  they 
don't  want  me.  I  heard  all  they  was  sayin'.  I  ain't  no- 
ways deef." 

"They'll  soon  learn  to  like  you  if  you  behave  your- 
self," observed  the  old  lady,  soothingly. 

"I  ain't  goin'  ter  do  all  the  behavin'.  Ef  they  sasses 
me  I'm  boun'  ter  sass  back." 

"Oh,  my!  that  ain't  no  way  for  a  little  girl  to  talk. 
What's  your  name  ?" 

"  Becky — same's  my  mammy." 

"  Well,  Rebecca,  now  see  how  pretty  you'll  look  when 
I  get  you  dressed  up.  The  folks  down-stairs  won't  know 
you." 

The  child  did  not  smile  or  seem  pleased,  but  she  sub- 
mitted without  opposition  to  the  bath  bestowed  upon  her, 
and  didn't  flinch  when  the  tangles  were  combed  out  of  her 
hair. 

When  she  was  dressed  in  some  clothes  which  Lida  Ann 
had  outgrown,  Mrs.*  French  felt  well  satisfied  with  her 
work,  and  led  the  little  creature  into  the  spare  chamber. 


MARCII-26,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


359 


where,  between  the  two  windows,  a  long  mirror  readied 
almost  from  the  floor  to  the  ceiling. 

"  I  wonder  if  you  know  that  nice-lookin'  little  girl  in 
there?"'  asked  the  old  lady. 

A  faint  smile  brightened  for  an  instant  the  small 
tragic  face.  "  I  wisht  mammy — "  she  began,  then  stopped 
suddenly,  her  lips  quivering.  The  next  moment  she  was 
lying-  on  the  floor,  her  face  buried  in  her  arms,  her  slen- 
der little  figure  convulsed  with  grief.  "Oh,  mammy! 
mammy!"  she  sobbed.  "  I  wants  yer,  mammy!  Cyarit 
ye  coniK  back?  I  don'  wanter  stay  with  these  hyah  folks, 
noway." 

Mrs.  French  tried  to  comfort  her,  but  in  vain.  She 
sobbed  on  unrestrainedly.  In  despair  at  last  the  old 
lad}'  went  down  stairs  to  seek  help.  She  found  Lida  Ann 
perched  upon  a  window-seat  in  the  kitchen  shelling  pease. 
Miss  Selina  was  rolling  out  pie-crust,  and  old  Dinah  was 
ironing  a  ruffled  white  petticoat. 

"Oh,  grandma,"  cried  Lida  Ann,  "  Dinah  says  there's 
no  dependin'  on  black-eyed  folks;  'n'  she  knew  of  one 
once  who  threw  a  knife  at  Grandma  Darrow.  I  do  wish 
you  wouldn't  keep  that  girl." 

"  It's  too  late  now  to  talk  about  not  keepin'  her,"  re- 
joined Mrs.  French.  "An'  I  wish  Dinah  'd  quit  tellin' 
you  foolish  yarns.  There  ain't  a  mite  of  harm  in  that 
child  upstairs,  if  she's  managed  the  right  way.  I  want 
you  to  go  up  'n'  see  if  you  can't  cheer  her  up  a  little, 
Lidy  Ann.  She's  cryiii'  herself  'most  sick.  I  c'n  shell 
them  pease." 

"  I  don't  know  how  to  cheer  her,"  said  Lida  Ann,  pout- 
ing and  hitching  up  her  shoulders. 

"Oh,  you  c'n  fin'  a  way,  if  you  wanter.  Show  her 
your  doll  babies  'u'  thet  little  music-box  your  cousin  Na- 
than sent  you." 

Lida  Ann  left  the  room  slowly,  dragging  her  feet,  and 
closing  the  door  behind  her  with  more  force  than  was 
necessary. 

"Lidy  Ann  doan'  want  no  chile  a-tekin'  her  place," 
said  old  Dinah.  "  Dar's  gwinter  be  trouble  in  dis  house 
now,  sho's  yo'  bawn." 

"  Lidy  Ann's  had  her  own  way  too  long,"  said  Mrs. 
French,  shelling  the  peas  into  a  pan  on  the  table.  "  She's 
got  right  down  selfish.  An'  you  hadn't  any  business 
tellin'  'bout  Miss  Wiu'fred  throwin'  that  knife,  Dinah. 
There  wasn't  any  use  in  it." 

''  I  didn't  call  no  names,"  answered  Dinah,  as  she  shook 
out  the  petticoat  and  hung  it  on  the  clothes-horse  by  the 
stove.  "  I  reckon  I's  got  some  fambly  pride  ef  I  is  on'y 
a  brack — 

"Oh,  hush  up,  Dinah!"  interrupted  Miss  Selina.  "I 
can't  hear  myself  think." 

When  all  the  pease  were  shelled,  Mrs.  French  went  up- 
stairs and  cautiously  opened  the  door  of  her  bedroom. 
On  the  floor  sat  Lida  Ann,  with  the  old  jewel-box  in  her 
lap,  and  at  a  little  distance  stood  Becky,  leaning  against 
an  ancient  chest  of  drawers.  Her  eyes  were  swollen 
with  weeping,  and  she  was  looking  steadily  at  the  pattern 
of  the  carpet  at  her  feet. 

"  I've  tried  everything,"  complained  Lida  Ann.  "  But 
she  won't  even  look  at  my  diamond  ring.  She  says  she 
wants  to  go  away,  grandma,  'n'  I  do  wish  you'd  let  her 
go.  I  don't  like  her,  'n'  she  don't  like  me." 

"Yer  just  right  tliar,"  flashed  out  Becky.  "I  hates 
yer.  I'd  like  ter  claw  them  two  long  yaller  braids  o' 
yourn  off'n  yer  head." 

"  Rebecca!  Rebecca!"  cried  Mrs.  French,  much  shocked. 
"  I  can't  have  you  talk  that  way  at  all.  And,  Lida  Ann, 
you've  got  to  act  different.  Rebecca's  goin'  to  be  your 
little  sister,  'n'  you  must  love  each  other  and  act  pleasant." 
"  I  don't  want  a  little  sister  who  says  she  'ain't  never 
sawn  diamonds,"  cried  Lida  Ann,  angrily.  "  An'  she 
don't  know  her  a  b  abs  yet,  either.  Aunt  Seliua  said  she 
was  a  heathen.  V  she  is,  too." 


"Oh,  yer  so  proud  'cause  ye've  got  thet  di'mund  ring," 
retorted  Becky,  with  a  furious  look. 

Grandma  French  sighed.  "  I  reckon  I'm  goiu'  to 
have  a  time  with  you  two,"  she  said.  "Lidy  Ann,  you 
put  up  that  box,  'n'  go  down  stairs  'n'  finish  hemmin'  that 
dish  towel  I  gave  you  this  mornin'.  Rebecca,  you  come 
here,  child,  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

CHAPTER    II. 

MRS.  FRENCH'S  expectations  of  having  a  "time"  with 
Lida  Ann  and  the  poor  wild  little  creature  from  the 
mountain  were  fully  realized.  The  two  little  girls  quar- 
relled from  morning  to  night;  they  even  fought,  and 
Lida  Ann  would  probably  have  lost  one  of  her  long  yel- 
low braids  under  a  clip  from  a  pair  of  shears  Becky  seized 
one  day.  had  not  Miss  Selina  rushed  upon  the  scene  and 
dragged  the  combatants  apart. 

"  Dem  gals  is  sho'ly  gwinter  kill  one  n  udder  someday 
'less  yo'-alls  looks  out  pow'ful  sharp,"  remarked  old 
Dinah.  "  Dey's  got  p'isen  spite  in  deir  hearts,  sho's  yo's 
bawn." 

Grandma  French  was  greatly  distressed.  "  I  don't  see 
what's  to  be  done,"  she  said,  with  a  sigh  which  seemed 
to  come  from  the  very  bottom  of  her  kind  old  heart. 
"  I  have  talked  to  Lida  Ann  'n'  I've  talked  to  Rebecca. 
But  it  'ain't  done  a  spec'  o'  good  far's  I  c'n  see." 

"  There's  only  one  thing  you  can  do,"  said  Miss  Selina. 
"  Send  that  little  heathen  to  Dug  Marsh's.  Dug  'n'  Mis' 
Marsh  '11  know  how  to  break  her  in.  They  don't  let  any 
o'  the  paupers  get  ahead  o'  them." 

Mrs.  French  shook  her  head.  "No,  no,"  she  rejoined. 
"I  couldn't  send  her  there.  Poor  little  soul!  She's  so 
pretty." 

"Pretty!"  Miss  Selina  threw  up  her  chin  and  sniffed 
with  indignation.  "Mother,  there's  times  when  you  rile 
me  clear  through." 

"  I  wonder  how  it  'd  do  to  part  her  'n'  Lidy  Ann  for 
a  while?"  said  Mrs.  French.  "It'd  give  us  a  chance  to 
think  things  over,  anyway.  What  do  you  say  to  send  in' 
Lidy  Ann  to  her  Grandma  Darrow  for  a  few  days?  They'd 
be  mighty  pleased  to  have  her,  'n'  she  could  take  her 
grandpap's  watch  to  her  cousin  Nathan.  I  promised  him 
last  time  he  was  here  that  I'd  turn  it  over  to  him  when 
he  was  turned  twenty-one,  'n'  his  birthday's  next  week." 
"Well, "said  Miss  Selina,  "I  reckon  'twouldn't  do  no 
harm  to  let  her  go.  She  'ain't  been  over  there  in  some 
time." 

At  this  moment  the  kitchen  door  opened  and  Lida  Ann 
appeared,  flushed  and  angry.  "I  can't  find  my  blue 
hair  ribbon  anywhere,"  she  cried.  "I  b'lieve  Becky's 
stole  it.  I've  seen  her  lookin'  at  it  time  'n.'  again  like 
she  wanted  it,  an'  now  it's  gone." 

"Hush,  now,  Lidy  Ann,  don't  you  say  another  word," 
said  her  aunt.  "  Your  hair  ribbon's  in  the  dresser  draw- 
er. I  picked  it  up  out  in  the  barn  when  I  was  hunliu' 
eggs  this  mornin'." 

Lida  Ann  looked  crestfallen.  "  Well,  she'd  like  to 
steal  it,"  she  muttered. 

"Hush!  hush!  Ain't  you  ashamed  of  yourself,  Lida 
Ann?"  Her  grandmother's  tone  was  severe.  "That's 
an  ugly  way  for  a  little  girl  to  talk." 

Lida  Ann's  face  assumed  at  once  its  most  sullen  ex- 
pression, but  she  speedily  forgot  her  vexation  when  told 
that  she  was  to  go  on  a  visit  to  her  grandmother  Darrow. 
"You  go  up  stairs  'n'  get  together  what  things  you 
want  to  take,"  directed  her  aunt,  "  'n'  Tobias  c'n  hitch  up 
'n'  carry  you  over  the  first  thing  after  breakfast  to-mor- 
row morniu',  and  Friday  we'll  sen'  for  you." 

And  so  the  next  mornin'  Lida  Ann  departed,  dressed 
in  her  best  white  frock,  and  carrying  the  old  open-faced 
watch  as  a  birthday  gift  for  her  cousin  Nathan. 

Becky  felt  singularly  happy  as  she  ran  back  to  the 
house  after  closing  the  gate.  She  resolved  to  let  Grandma 


LHJN'T    AIM    TER    STAY    HYAH,   NEITHER, "   BROKE    OUT    THE    LITTLE    GIKL. 


French  see  what  a  good  girl  she  could  be  now  Lida 
Ann  wasn't  there  to  sneer  at  her  and  call  her  names. 
She  was  met  at  the  kitchen  door  by  Miss  Selina,  who  had 
a  pair  of  shears  in  one  hand  and  an  old  sheet  in  the  other. 
Her  face  wore  its  most  determined  and  rigid  expression. 

"You  come  into  the  shed-room,  Rebecca,"  she  said. 
"I'm  goin'  to  do  something  IVe  'lowed  to  do  ever  since 
you  come  here." 

"  Cut  off  my  hair?" 

"Yes;  there  ain't  no  sense  in  your  havin'  no  such 
mop.  It's  combin'  'n'  curlin'  from  mornin'  to  night,  'n' 
then  you  ain't  half-way  tidy." 

Becky  put  up  both  hands  and  clasped  them  over  her 
cloud  of  curly  hair. 

"You  sha'n't  touch  hit,''  she  said.  "You  dassen't  put 
them  shears  noways  near  me.  I  ain't  goin'  ter  hev  no- 
body cut  my  hair  off.  '  My  mammy—  She  stopped 
suddenly,  and  swallowed  a  big  lump  in  her  throat.  The 
tears  had  sprung'  to  her  black  eyes,  as  was  always  the 
case  when  she  spoke  of  her  dead  mother. 

"We'll  soon  see  if  I'll  touch  it  or  not,"  rejoined  Miss 
Selina.  "  I  ain't  got  so's  to  be  bossed  by  no  little  girl  I 
ever  seen  yet.  Mother's  too  old  to  be  pestered  takiu' 
care  o'  your  hair;  it  wears  her  all  out.  You  march  into 
that  shed-room  now,  and  be  quick  about  it.  I  ain't  goin' 
to  stand  no  foolishness." 

Becky  stared  at  her  a  moment,  then  dropped  her  hands 
suddenly,  and  walked  slowly  into  the  "shed -room." 
Miss  Selina  lifted  her  upon  an  old  stool  by  the  window, 
rather  surprised  at  her  quick  obedience.  She  had  fully 
expected  a  struggle,  and  was  puzzled  when  Becky  sat 
perfectly  still  under  the  shearing.  One  by  one  the 
dusky  curls  fell  to  the  floor,  and  the  little  girl  uttered 
no  word  of  remonstrance  or  reproach. 

"  There !     I'm  done,"  said  Miss  Selina  at  last. 

Becky  shook  her  little  shorn  head,  and  darted  out  like 
a  little  swallow.  When  Miss  Selina,  after  shaking  out 
the  sheet  and  folding  it,  left  the  shed,  the  child  was  no- 


where to  be  seen.  Somehow  Miss  Selina  felt  a  little  un- 
comfortable. She  wondered  if  it  wouldn't  have  been 
belter  if  she  had  consulted  her  mother  before  cutting  off 
Becky's  curls.  There  was  no  telling  what  the  child 
might  do  in  her  rage.  Burn  the  house  down,  perhaps, 
or  wring  the  necks  of  all  the  chickens. 

"  We'll  have  to  watch  her  pretty  close  for  a  few  days," 
she  decided.  "I'm  glad  I  didn't  cut  her  curls  off  'fore 
Lidy  Ann  left.  She  might  o'  taken  her  spite  out  on  Lidy 
Ann  some  way." 

Just  before  noon  old  Mrs.  French  came  into  the  kitch- 
en looking  pale  and  distressed. 

"Selina,  I'm  worried  'most  sick,"  she  said.  "I  s'pose 
I've  got  to  tell  you.  It's  'bout  Lida  Ann's  di'mund  ring. 
It's  gone.  I've  looked  high  '11'  low,  an'  it's  gone." 

"Gone  out  your  jewel-box?" 

"  Yes.  It  was  there  when  I  went  to  get  out  the  watch. 
I  remember  seem'  it." 

"  'Ain't  you  been  sittin'  in  your  room  all  the  mornin'?" 

"No;  I  was  up  in  the  attic  'most  'n  hoursortin'  over  the 
things  in  the  red  chest." 

"You  was?  Then  I  know  what  come  o'  Lidy  Ann's 
di'mond  ring.  That  Becky  took  it.  She's  took  it  because 
I  cut  off  her  hair.  I  made  sure  she  would  get  even." 

"  You  cut  off  her  hair?" 

"Yes,  I  did.  It  was  all  foolishness  lettin'  her  wear 
such  a  mop,  'n'  you  havin'  to  fuss  'n'  worry  with  it  all 
the  time.  And  that's  why  she's  stole  Lidy  Ann's  di'moud 
ring." 

A  sound,  something  between  a  gasp  and  a  strangled 
cry,  made  both  women  turn  toward  the  open  doorway. 
There  stood  Becky,  her  little  shorn  head  held  high,  her 
black  eyes  flashing,  her  face  pallid  with  sudden  rage. 

''Hit's  a  lie!"  she  cried,  shrilly,  quivering  from  head 
to  foot.  "I  never  teched  Lidy  Ann's  di'mund  ring. 
Yo're  meaner  'n  dirt  to  say  so.  I  'ain't  teched  hit.  I 
'ain't  never  sawn  hit  sense  the  first  day  I  come  hyah." 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


SNOW-SHOES    AND     SLEDGES. 


A    Sequel    to    "The    Fur-Seal's    Tooth." 

BY     KIRK     M  U  N  R  O  E, 
AUTHOR  OF  "  DORYMATES,"  "  CAMPMATES,"  "  RAFTMATES,"  "  CANOEMATES,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER     VII. 
THE     "CHIMO"    GOES    INTO    WINTER    QUARTERS. 

WHILE  Phil  watched  the  departing  missionary,  who 
was  making  his  way  cautiously  over  the  newly 
formed  ice,  the  late-rising  sun  appeared  above  the  south- 
eastern horizon,  gilding  a  cross  surmounting  the  tower 
of  a  little  log  church  pleasantly  located  on  a  high  bluff. 
Back  of  it  rose  the  dark  green  wall  of  a  spruce  forest, 
while  about  it  were  clustered  a  number  of  low  but  very 
substantial  and  comfortable-looking  log  houses.  Near  the 
beach  at  the  foot  of  the  bluff  stood  an  Indian  village  of 
huts  whose  roofs  bristled  with  poles.  In  each  one  was 
left  a  square  hole  for  the  egress  of  smoke  from  the  open 
fire  built  on  an  earthen  floor  beneath. 

Scattered  about  in  picturesque  but  hopeless  confusion 
were  long  ranges  of  pole  frames  for  drying  fish,  many 
little  log  houses  mounted  on  stilts  and  looking  like  dove- 
cotes, the  use  of  which  Phil  could  not  imagine,  fish-traps, 
boats,  sledges,  and  everywhere  dozens  of  yelping,  prowl- 
ing, fighting,  or  sleeping  dogs.  Besides  these  things  Phil 
could  see  what  appeared  to  be  the  black  chimney-stack 
of  some  kind  of  a  mill. 

Suddenly  a  flag  was 
run  to  the  top  of  a  tall 
pole  on  top  of  the  bluff, 
and  as  the  Stare  and 
Stripes  streamed  out 
bravely  in  the  cold 
wind  a  rattling  volley 
of  musketry  rang  forth 
its  loud  note  of  welcome 
from  the  Indian  village. 
To  this  Phil  responded 
by  a  vigorous  salute 
from  the  Chimo's  whis- 
tle. Then,  so  utterly 
weary  from  overwork, 
excitement,  and  loss  of 
sleep  that  merely  to 
move  required  a  strong 
effort  of  will,  he  left 
the  pilot-house  and 
went  below.  He  found 
Serge  at  the  Captain's 
bedside  administering  a 
bowl  of  broth,  and  tell- 
ing the  sick  man  of  the 
events  of  the  night. 

As  Phil  entered,  Ger- 
ald Hamer's  eyes  rested 
on  him  with  such  an 
expression  of  gratitude 
as  the  former  will  never 
forget.  "I  thank  you 
two  boys,"  he  said, 
weakly,  "  more  than  I 
can  ever  tell.  To  you 
I  owe  not  only  my  life, 
but  whatever  it  holds 
of  value,  and —  Here 
his  voice  failed  him,  and 
Serge  bade  him  not  to 
attempt  another  word. 

"No,  indeed,"  added 
Phil,  "for  you  don't 
owe  us  one  cent's  worth 


of  thanks,  Mr.  Hamer.  To  the  end  of  our  lives  we  shall 
always  be  in  your  debt,  and  in  bringing  you  up  the 
river  to  this  point  we  have  used  your  boat  to  bring  our- 
selves as  well.  So — well,  that's  all  there  is  to  it,  anyway ; 
and  now  if  you  will  only  hurry  up  and  get  well  we  shall 
appreciate  that  more  than  all  the  thanks  in  the  world." 

Then  Serge  left,  and  Phil,  slipping  into  his  vacated 
chair,  almost  instantly  fell  into  a  sleep  so  profound  that 
it  is  doubtful  if  a  boiler  explosion  or  an  earthquake  could 
have  aroused  him. 

An  hour  or  so  later  he  was  in  the  midst  of  a  very  per- 
plexing dream,  in  which  he  seemed  to  be  recovering  from 
an  illness,  and  the  old  family  physician  at  his  bedside 
kept  changing  into  a  young  woman.  While  in  the  form 
of  an  old  man  he  said,  "Yes,  there  are  the  two  captains, 
both  evidently  sound  asleep,  and  no  wonder.  This  is 
Captain  Hamer,  who  would  have  died  long  ago  but  for 
the  devoted  care  of  the  two  lads,  and  this  is  Captain  Ry- 
der, who  brought  the  boat  up  the  river  in  the  face  of  all 
obstacles." 

Then,  presto!  the  old  doctor  changed  into  a  young  wo- 
man, who  said,  "  Poor  boy,  I  don't  wonder  that  he  has 


ARRIVAL    OF    THE    DOCTOR. 


362 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME    XVI. 


fallen   asleep,  and  I  only  hope  lie  isn't  in  for  a  spell  of 
illness.      He  certainly  appears  feverish." 

With  this  a  soft  hand  was  laid  on  Phil's  forehead,  and 
he  opened  his  eyes  to  find  his  dream  so  far  a  reality  that 
there  actually  was  a  young  woman  bending  over  him, 
and  wearing  an  expression  of  anxiety  on  her  pleasant 
face.  Behind  her  stood  the  missionary.  She  stepped 
back  as  she  saw  that  Phil  was  awake,  and  the  poor  boy, 
recalling  vividly  his  dishevelled  appearance,  struggled  to 
his  feet,  with  a  crimson  face. 

"  I  didn't  know  you  were  going  to  bring  ladies  to  see 
us,"  he  said  in  a  reproachful  tone  to  his  companion  of 
the  night.  "  In  fact,  I  didn't  know  there  was  a  lady  with- 
in a  thousand  miles  of  here.  I'm  sure  you  didn't  men- 
tion the  fact.  You  only  said  you  were  going  to  fetch 
the  doctor." 

"And  so  I  have,"  laughed  the  missionary,  "for  this 
young  lady  is  our  doctor,  and  a  most  excellent  one  she 
is,  too,  I  can  assure  you.  She.  was  just  saying-  that  you 
didn't  look  at  all  well,  and  wondering  if  you  were  going 
to  have  the  measles." 

"  I  had  'em  long  ago,"  answered  the  lad,  "  and  I  never 
felt  better  in  my  life.  I  was  a  bit  sleepy." 

"Which  isn't  surprising,  after  all  you  have  recently 
undergone,"  remarked  the  doctor,  with  a  winning  smile 
that  served  to  establish  friendly  relations  between  them 
at  once.  "You  see,  we  have  already  heard  of  your  brave 
struggle  against  our  unruly  river,  and  that  you  may  be 
prepared  for  them  I  will  tell  you  at  once  that  there  are 
two  more  ladies  at  the  station  who  are  quite  anxious  to 
meet  the  hero  of  so  many  adventures." 

"Oh!"  gasped  poor  Phil,  who  had  never  before  been 
called  a  hero. 

"Yes,  but  you  needn't  look  so  alarmed.  They  aren't 
half  so  formidable  as  I  am,  for  they  haven't  the  privilege 
of  ordering  people  to  do  things  that  I  obtained  with  my 
diploma." 

"Are  you  going  to  order  me  to  do  things?"  asked  Phil. 

"  Indeed  I  am  ;  for  as  a  doctor  I  dare  issue  orders  even 
to  a  steamboat  captain,"  laughed  the  young  woman.  "I 
am  going  to  order  you  to  take  sleep  in  big  doses.  It  is 
a  famous  remedy  in  this  country,  for  our  nights  are  al- 
ready seventeen  hours  long,  and  steadily  lengthening. 
But,  joking  aside,  I  want  to  congratulate  you,  Mr.  Ryder, 
on  your  skilful  care  of  this  patient,  whose  life  has  been 
undoubtedly  saved  by  your  success  in  keeping  him  warm. 
Although  he  is  still  a  very  sick  man,  I  believe  the  crisis 
is  past,  and  that  with  the  nursing  he  can  have  on  shore 
he  will  pull  through  all  right." 

"  I'm  awfully  glad  to  hear  it,"said  Phil,  "  but  I'm  puz- 
zled to  know  how  we  are  to  get  him  ashore.  I  shouldn't 
think  it  would  do  to  carry  him  over  the  ice  in  the  face 
of  the  wind  that  is  blowing." 

"  No,  indeed,"  replied  the  doctor. 

"So  we  have  made  arrangements  to  carry  him  in  this 
very  boat,"  said  the  missionary,  "  aud  if  you  care  to  step 
outside  for  a  moment  you  can  see  how  we  propose  to  ac- 
complish it." 

Phil  had  been  wondering  at  the  sound  of  many  voices 
and  busy  labor  that  came  from  without,  but  as  he  gained 
the  deck  he  comprehended  the  missionary's  plan  at  a 
glance.  Some  fifty  native  men  and  boys,  directed  by  a 
white  man,  were  hard  at  work  with  axes,  ice-chisels,  poles, 
and  other  implements  opening  a  channel  the  full  width 
of  the  Chimo  from  where  she  lay  to  the  shore.  As  fast 
as  a  cake  was  loosened  it  was  shoved  under  the  solid  ice 
on  the  down-stream  side,  and  already  a  passage  was  open- 
ed for  one-third  of  the  distance. 

"That  is  a  capital  idea !"  exclaimed  Phil,  "and  one 
that  I  don't  believe  I  should  have  thought  of.  Even  if 
I  had  I  am  afraid  we  couldn't  have  carried  it  out  by  our- 
selves, nor  do  I  believe  we  could  have  induced  those  na- 
tives to  work  for  us  as  they  seem  willing  to  for  you." 


"Perhaps  not,"  replied  the  missionary;  "but  I  think 
they  are  fond  of  me,  for  when  I  explained  to  them  how 
much  I  owed  to  my  timely  meeting  with  you  last  even- 
ing they  seemed  only  too  glad  of  a  chance  to  return  the 
favor." 

"  I  didn't  realize  that  you  owed  anything  to  us,"  medi- 
tated Phil.  "In  fact,  I  thought  we  had  been  indebted 
to  you  for  favors  ever  since  our  fortunate  meeting.  Bui 
it  seems  as  though  most  every  one  was  in  debt  to  some 
one  else  for  assistance  in  times  of  trouble." 

"Ah,  my  boy,"  replied  the  missionary,  "that  is  one 
of  the  fundamental  principles  of  human  life.  From  the 
moment  we  enter  this  world  until  we  leave  it  we  are  de- 
pendent upon  others  for  everything  we  possess,  including 
life  itself.  Wherefore  it  becomes  us  to  render  unto  our 
fellows  such  services  as  we  may  promptly  and  cheerfully. 
But  here  comes  Serge,  and  I  am  jure  he  is  going  to  say 
that  breakfast  is  ready." 

"Yes,"  laughed  Serge,  "I  am,  and  I  should  have  said 
it  long  ago,  only  Phil  was  so  sound  asleep  that  I  couldn't 
wake  him  without  disturbing  the  Captain.  But  now,  if 
he  is  hungry — 

"  If  I  am  hungry  !"  cried  Phil.  "  I  honestly  believe  it 
was  only  my  ravenous  hunger  that  put  me  to  sleep. 
Will  you  join  us,  sir?" 

"I  was  only  waiting  for  an  invitation,"  replied  the 
missionary,  with  a  smile,  "for  I  didn't  stop  ashore  long 
enough  to  get  anything  to  eat.  Nor  do  I  believe  the 
doctor  has  had  her  breakfast;  so  if  Serge  doesn't  mind 
having  a  lady  at  his  table — 

"A  lady?"  stammered  Serge,  in  dismay,  and  gazing 
wildly  about  him.  "  Is  there  one  on  board?" 

"There  certainly  is," laughed  the  missionary.  "And 
from  what  she  has  heard  of  your  culinary  skill  she  is 
most  anxious  to  test  it." 

A  minute  later  they  were  all  gathered  about  the  Chimo's 
mess-table,  and  the  doctor  was  winning  golden  opinions 
by  her  judiciously  bestowed  compliments.  Even  gruff 
Mr.  Sims  was  induced  to  smile  by  her  praise  of  his  pol- 
ished engine,  which  she  declared  outshone  any  yet  seen 
on  the  Yukon ;  while  Isaac  was  told  that  the  mission  saw- 
mill was  so  frightfully  out  of  order  that  the  man  of  all 
men  most  needed  there  at  that  moment  was  a  millwright. 

The  pleasant  meal  was  hardly  finished  when  a  great 
shout  from  outside  announced  the  completion  of  the 
canal.  Then,  with  Phil  at  the  wheel,  while  the  mission- 
ary and  the  doctor  occupied  the  pilot-house  with  him, 
and  with  flags  at  half-mast  for  the  dead  man  in  the  cabin, 
the  stanch  little  Chimo  steamed  slowly  up  the  narrow 
channel  to  the  berth  she  was  to  occupy  for  the  next  eight 
months,  As  she  reached  it  the  mission  flag  was  dipped 
in  salute,  and  then  hoisted  to  half-mast  in  sympathy  with 
her  sorrow. 

So  the  eventful  voyage  of  four  hundred  miles  from  St. 
Michaels  was  ended;  and.  thanks  to  the  lads  whom  Ger- 
ald Hamer  had  rescued  from  the  cruel  waters  of  Bering 
Sea,  he  and  his  property  were  now  moored  in  a  safe 
haven.  And  it  was  none  too  soon,  for  that  very  night 
the  cold  was  so  intense  that  the  Yukon  was  frozen  from 
bank  to  bank. 

But  Phil  did  not  care,  nor  did  Serge.  They  had  reached 
the  goal  toward  which  they  had  set  their  faces  with  such 
sturdy  determination,  and  for  them  neither  cold  nor 
storm  held  any  present  terrors. 

CHAPTER   VIII. 
LIFE  AT  AN  ARCTIC  MISSION. 

THE  first  thing  to  be  undertaken  after  the  Chimo  was 
safely  moored  in  her  snug  berth  was  the  removal  of  Ger- 
ald Hamer  to  the  little  log  hospital  that  was  the  pride  of 
the  doctor's  heart.  This  was  accomplished  without  any 
danger  from  exposure  by  means  of  a  canvas  covered  litter 


MAECH  26,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


363 


especially  constructed  for  the  occasion.  To  be  undressed 
for  the  first  time  in  many  days,  {riven  a  warm  bath,  and 
placed  in  a  bed  that  was  actually  spread  with  sheet*  was 
to  be  so  "  lapped  in  luxury  "  that,  as  the  sick  man  whis- 
pered to  Phil,  any  one  who  wouldn't  get  well  under  such 
conditions  deserved  to  die. 

The  second  duty  was  the  burial  of  poor  Martin,  for 
whom  a  grave  was  already  prepared  in  the  quaint  little 
cemetery  of  the  settlement.  The  rude  coffin  was  borne 
bv  his  late  shipmates,  and  the  entire  community  of  An- 
vik.  natives  as  well  as  whites,  followed  the  body  to  its 
place  of  final  rest.  Never  had  Phil  been  so  impressed 
with  the  solemn  beauty  of  the  Episcopal  service  as  when 
he  listened  to  its  grand  utterances  amid  the  surroundings 
of  that  wild  northern  land.  The  low  hanging  sun,  the 
moan  of  the  wintry  wind  through  the  sombre  forest,  the 
attentive  groups  of  dark-skinned  natives,  the  mighty  river 
rolling  its  tawny  flood  at  their  feet,  and  the  encircling 
solitudes,  vast,  silent,  and  mysterious,  centring  at  that 
simple  grave,  combined  to  form  a  picture  that  none  of  its 
spectators  will  ever  forget. 

When  all  was  over  the  living  left  the  dead  with  the 
dead,  and  returned  to  their  homes.  Even  Phil  and  Serge 
declined,  on  the  plea  of  utter  weariness,  the  proffered  hos- 
pitality of  the  mission  for  that  night,  and  went  back  to 
their  own  quarters  aboard  the  Chimo,  where  for  the  next 
twenty-four  hours  they  slept  almost  without  interniis-  ' 
sion. 

Then  they  were  ready  for  anything,  and  when  they 
again  presented  themselves  at  the  mission,  clad  in  new 
suits  taken  from  the  steamer's  ample  trade  slock,  the 
ladies  found  it  difficult  to  realize  that  these  handsome, 
wide-awake  young  fellows  were  the  same  who,  heavy- 
eyed,  unkempt,  and  ready  to  drop  with  exhaustion,  had 
brought  the  Chimo  to  port  two  days  before. 

Nor  did  it  seem  to  the  boys  that  they  could  be  in  the 
same  place,  for  while  they  slept  the  river  had  frozen 
completely  over,  a  fall  of  snow  had  enfolded  all  nature  in 
its  spotless  mantle,  and  now  the  whole  world  lay  spark- 
ling in  the  unclouded  sunlight.  If  they  were  amazed  at 
the  change  in  the  aspect  of  the  mission  they  were  also 
delighted  with  the  missionary's  house,  which  they  now 
entered  for  the  first  time.  Not  since  leaving  far-away 
New  London  had  either  of  them  seen  anything  to  com- 
pare with  the  prettiness  and  comfort  displayed  in  this 
wilderness  house  on  the  verge  of  arctic  Alaska. 

There  were  books,  magazines,  and  pictures,  rugs  and 
potted  ferns,  a  small  organ,  luxurious  divans  and  easy- 
chairs,  a  museum  of  native  curios,  and  many  other  no- 
ticeable objects  of  use  or  ornament.  In  an  immense  fire- 
place a  cheery  blaze  roared  and  crackled,  and  before  it  a 
fine  big  cat  purred  forth  his  content.  In  the  eyes  of  the 
boys  there  was  nothing  lacking  to  the  perfection  of  this 
interior.  And  yet  it  was  all  very  simple  and  inexpen- 
sive. Most  of  the  furniture  was  home-made,  the  divans 
were  cushioned  with  feathers  from  native  wild-fowl,  and 
the  rugs  were  trophies  from  neighboring  forest  or  waters. 

The  missionary's  family  consisted  of  his  wife,  the  doc- 
tor, a  young  lady  teacher,  and  a  white  man  who  had 
charge  of  the  saw-mill.  Besides  these  three  were  a  few 
bright  native  boys  and  girls,  who  were  under  special  in- 
struction. 

While  the  lads  chatted  with  the  ladies  and  marvelled 
at  their  surroundings  one  of  the  native  boys  was  seen  ap- 
proaching the  house,  whereupon  its  mistress  saying, "  All ! 
there  comes  the  mail,"  went  to  the  door.  "  Nothing  but 
the  paper,"  she  announced  on  her  return,  "but  we  shall 
at  least  learn  the  latest  news." 

"  I  had  no  idea  that  you  had  a  mail  service  in  the  win- 
ter," remarked  Phil,  innocently,  "nor  that  there  was  a 
paper  published  in  this  part  of  the  world." 

"Oh,  dear,  no!  It  isn't  published  here."  laughed  the 
missionary's  wife.  "It  is  a  New  York  paper,  and  only  a 


weekly  at  that.     Still  it  is  better  than  none,  and  being  of 
this  week's  date  its  news  is  quite  recent — see?" 

So  saying  she  held  out  the  paper  for  Phil's  inspec- 
tion, and  to  his  amazement  he  saw  that  it  was  indeed  a 
New  York  paper  bearing  the  date  of  October  20th.  Not 
until  Serge,  to  whom  this  harmless  deception  was  an  old 
story,  broke  out  with  the  laughter  he  could  no  longer  re- 
strain did  it  flash  into  Phil's  mind  that  the  paper  was  a 
year  old.  and  then  he  could  have  thumped  himself  for 
his  stupidity. 

"You  see,"  explained  the  missionary's  wife,  "we  only 
receive  mail  once  or  twice  a  year,  and  then  we  get  such 
a  quantity  of  papers  that  we  cannot  possibly  read  them 
all  at  once.  So  we  lay  them  aside,  and  have  them  deliv- 
ered one  at  a  time  on  their  regular  dates,  by  which  means 
we  receive  two  or  three  newspapers  every  week  during 
the  year." 

"What  a  capital  idea!"  exclaimed  Phil. 

"Isn't  it?  And  it  is  such  good  training  for  the  boys, 
who  are  allowed  to  act  as  postmen.  Then,  too,  we  use 
the  papers  in  school  in  place  of  reading-books,  and  so 
have  fresh  topics  with  which  to  interest  the  scholars 
every  week.  On  this  account  our  reading-class  is  so  pop- 
ular that  it  has  nearly  outgrown  the  capacity  of  our 
school-room ;  but,  thanks  to  Captain  Hamer,  we  are  to 
have  a  new  one  in  the  spring." 

"  Indeed!     Is  he  going  to  build  you  one?" 

''He  is  already  having  it  built,  and  it  is  to  serve  as 
your  winter  quarters  so  long  as  you  remain  with  us, 
after  which  it  is  to  be  presented  to  the  mission." 

This  was  so  interesting  a  bit  of  news  that  the  boys 
must  visit  the  hospital  at  once  and  learn  what  plans  the 
leader  of  their  expedition  had  made.  They  found  him 
so  far  recovered  as  already  to  take  an  interest  in  his  sur- 
roundings and  able  to  talk  freely  with  them.  He  told 
them  that  with  a  view  to  the  future  needs  of  the  school 
the  new  building  was  to  be  forty  feet  long  by  twenty 
wide,  though  for  the  sake  of  present  warmth  and  com- 
fort it  was  to  be  divided  into  several  small  sleeping- 
rooms,  a  large  living-room  for  the  use  of  the  Chimo 's 
crew,  and  a  store-room  for  such  goods  as  it  was  deemed 
best  to  remove  from  the  steamer  for  safer  keeping. 

"In  it,"  explained  the  Captain,  "we  will  make  our- 
selves as  comfortable  as  possible  for  the  winter,  and  in 
the  spring  we  will  push  on  for  the  diggings.  With  the 
four  hundred  miles  start  we  have  got,  thanks  to  you 
boys,  we  ought  to  reach  them  in  time  to  do  a  rattling 
business  before  the  company's  boats  get  there." 

"  But  how  about  going  out  by  way  of  Chilkat  for  your 
next  year's  supply  of  goods?"  queried  Phil. 

"Oh,  that  plan  must  be  given  up,  of  course,  and  I 
must  make  up  my  mind  to  sacrifice  a  year's  business  for 
the  fun  I've  had  with  the  measles!  The  trip  from  here 
in  the  dead  of  winter  would  be  a  tough  one  for  the  strong- 
est of  men,  for  it  must  be  all  of  two  thousand  miles.  It 
will  easily  take  me  the  rest  of  the  winter  to  regain 
strength  enough  to  go  on  with  the  boat  in  the  spring, 
so  there's  no  use  thinking  of  that  trip  now.  I'll  manage 
to  send  you  boys  out  somehow  next  summer,  which  is  the 
nearest  I  can  come  to  keeping  my  contract  with  you.  In 
the  mean  time,  while  I  am  sorry  for  your  disappointment 
I  am  very  glad  of  your  company  and  services." 

"  You  don't  think  then  that  it  would  be  possible  for  us 
to  go  out  this  winter  by  way  of  Forty  Mile  and  the  coast 
and  make  our  way  to  the  sound  or  even  to  San  Francisco, 
and  order  your  goods  for  you?"  suggested  Phil,  in  whose 
mind  this  wild  scheme  had  suddenly  assumed  shape. 

"  You  two  inexperienced  boys !"  exclaimed  the  Captain, 
amazed  at  the  audacity  of  this  proposition.  "  Certainly 
not.  Why,  I  don't  believe  either,  of  you  knows  how  to 
use  snow-shoes  or  drive  a  team  of  dogs  or  has  the  least 
idea  of  what  fifty  below  zero  means." 

"  I  think  I  know,"  said  Serge. 


364 


HARPER'S    YOUNG    PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


"Which?" 

"  All  of  those  things,"  replied  the  young  Russo-Amer- 
ican. 

"  You  know  more  than  I  do,  then,  or  ever  expect  to,  for 
I  have  never  driven  a  dog-team.  As  for  Phil  here,  I 
am  certain  that  he  knows  nothing  about  any  one  of  the 
three." 

"  I  believe  I  could  learn,"  said  the  boy  from  New  Lon- 
don, "and  I  know  I'd  be  glad  of  the  chance." 

"Well,  you  can  study  those  things  right  here,  and 
when  you  are  learning  what  fifty  below  zero  means  you'll 
be  glad  enough  to  have  a  well-warmed  house  near  by  in 
which  to  study  the  results  of  your  lesson.  You'll  find 
plenty  to  occupy  your  time  in  this  immediate  vicinity  for 
the  next  few  months.  So  don't  think  any  more  of  the 
crazy  scheme  you  have  just  proposed,  for  I  can't  possibly 
give  my  consent  to  it.  If  I  should  thus  lose  sight  of  you 
I  should  spend  the  rest  of  my  days  in  mortal  terror  of 
meeting  Mr.  John  Ryder,  and  having  him  demand  to 
know  what  I  had  done  with  his  boy.  Now  I  shall  have 
to  ask  you  to  leave  me  for  a  while,  as  I  am  too  tired  to 
talk  any  more." 

As  soon  as  the  boys  were  outside  Phil  asked:  "How 
do  you  drive  dogs,  Serge?  Do  you  have  lines  to  each 
one  or  only  to  the  leader?" 

"You  don't  drive  them  with  lines  at  all,"  laughed  the 
other.  "Nor  do  you  go  near  them.  You  sometimes  run 
beside  the  sledge,  but  generally  behind  it,  so  as  to  push 
on  the  handle-bar  over  obstructions  or  to  hang  on  and 
hold  back  in  going  down  steep  places.  From  there  you 
talk  to  the  dogs,  and  encourage  them  with  a  whip  of 
walrus-hide  or  seal-skin,  that  has  a  handle  about  sixteen 
inches  long  and  a  lash  of  about  eighteen  feet.  To  pro- 
duce the  slightest  effect  on  your  team  you  must  be  able 
to  crack  that  lash  with  a  report  like  a  pistol  shot  in  either 
ear  of  any  clog,  or  to  fleck  any  one  of  them  on  any  desig- 
nated part  of  the  body.  You  must  also  learn  the  lan- 
guage that  your  dogs  are  accustomed  to,  for  they  will  pay 
no  attention  to  any  other." 

"And  are  snow-shoes  a  necessity?" 

"  Certainly  they  are,  for  without  them  you  would  often 
sink  out  of  sight  in  drifts,  while  even  in  soft  snow  of 
moderate  depth  they  are  indispensable." 

"  Well,"  sighed  Phil,  "it  seems  as  though  one  had  to 
learn  a  great  deal  before  he  ctmld  travel  far  in  this  coun- 
try; but  I  suppose  if  others  have,  I  can.  So  let's  go  and 
borrow  a  pair  of  snow-shoes  and  have  a  lesson  at  once. 
I  suppose  I  might  as  well  begin  the  Eskimo  whip-practice 
and  dog-language,  too;  for  with  such  a  long  journey 
ahead  of  us,  we  mustn't  waste  any  more  time  than  is  ab- 
solutely necessary  on  preliminaries." 

"What  long  journey?"  asked  Serge,  bluntly. 

"Our  journey  up  the  river  to  Forty  Mile,  and  so  on  to 
Chilkat.  of  course.  You  didn't  imagine  we  were  going  to 
loaf  here  all  winter,  did  you?" 

"  But  the  Captain  won't  give  his  consent." 

"  Oh,  we'll  manage  that.  Besides,  we've  got  to  get  to 
Sitka  some  time,  you  know,  or  our  parents  will  be  getting 
anxious  about  us." 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


BOTH  RIGHT. 

SMALL  Tommy's  father  said  that  be 
Considered  that  most  boys 
Were  little  fire-crackers,  they 
Are  so  filled  up  with  uoise. 

But  Tommy  said  his  Pa  was  wrong; 

That  he  had  always  found 
Himself  more  like  a  pin-wheel  that 

Is  always  whizzing  round. 


EARLY  DAYS   OF  SUCCESSFUL  MEN. 

THE    ARTIST— F.  S.  CHURCH. 

BY     BARNET     PHILLIPS. 

LIKE  to  get  notes  from  Mr. 
F.  S.  Church,  the  artist,  be- 
cause  he  generally  draws 
pictures  in  them.    Not  that 
his  notes  are  not  interest- 
ing, for  lie    writes  so  well 
that  many  an  author  would 
like  to  have  his  fresh  and 
natural   thoughts,  but    he 
throws  in   the  pictures  be- 
sides, and  so  I  have  both  text  and  illustration.     The  oth- 
er day  he  was  moving  his  studio,  and  this  is  the  way  he 
explained  the  situation. 

The  old  Greeks  drew  the  picture  of  a  noble  white  steed 
with  wings  of  flame,  and  they  called  him  Pegasus.  They 
believed  that  only  a  poet  could  ride  him.  The  story  runs 
that  once  a  rustic  slipped  a  halter  on  Pegasus,  hitched 
him  to  a  plough,  and  made  him  turn  furrows.  Pegasus 
did  a  wearisome  day's  work.  After  a  while  he  kicked 
over  the  traces,  spurned  the  ground,  and,  spreading  his 
wings,  sailed  away  to  the  realms  of  fancy.  That  tale  is 
typical  to  me  of  talent  subjected  to  what  might  be  rough, 
distasteful,  but  honest  toil.  If  Pegasus  did  get  rid  of  the 
galling  collar,  he  was  improved  by  the  hard  experi- 
ence. 

Many  of  you  must  know  of  Mr.  F.  S.  Church's  work. 
When  you  go  to  an  art  exhibition,  you  will  be  certain  to 
find  Mr.  Church's  pictures  in  the  place  of  honor.  Read- 
ers of  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  have  seen  many  of  his 
illustrations  in  its  numbers.  His  wild  beasts  have  growled 


MR.  CHURCH    TO-DAT. 


for  you.  You  have  followed  his  flying  storks.  You 
have  laughed  at  his  comic  bears,  and  wanted  at  Christ- 
mas-time to  sit  down  and  toss  pan-cakes  or  to  eat  plum- 
pudding  with  them. 

There  never  was  such  a  wild-beast-tamer  as  Mr.  Church 
— that  is,  on  canvas — for  he  delights  in  creating  fairy 
forms,  who,  with  a  wave  of  their  delicate  hands  or  a 
smile  from  their  sweet  lips,  can  subdue  the  most  ferocious 
lions  or  the  cruelest  tigers. 

I  cornered  Mr.  Church  the  other  day,  and  I  said  to  him, 

"Will  you  be  good  enough  to  tell  me,  sir,  when  your 
turn  for  art  first  showed  itself?" 

"  I  found  it,"  answered  Mr.  Church,  "  in  studying  geog- 
raphy. I  was  uncommonly  fond  of  geography  and  maps." 

"Oh,  I  see;  interested  in  the  descriptions  of  the  coun- 
tries, the  costumes  of  the  people,  the  varied  products — tar, 
pitch,  turpentine;  camels,  diamonds,  sugar;  zebras — 

"  It  was  not  exactly  that.  I  did  not  find  much  in  the 
text,  but  in  the  maps.  The  maps  were  just  splendid. 
The  teacher  was  proud  of  the  close  attention  I  was 
paying  to  my  geography.  He  said  to  my  mother:  '  Your 
little  boy,  ma'am '  (I  was  seven  or  eight  then),  '  is  exceed- 
ingly fond  of  his  geography.  He  is  studying  his  maps 
every  chance  he  gets.  Just  poring  over  them.  I  should 
not  be  surprised  if  he  could  put  his  finger  right  on  Tim- 
buctoo  at  once.'  " 

"  Fine  power  of  application,"  I  said,  encouragingly. 

"I  do  not  think  I  had  the  most  distant  idea  of  where 
Timbuctoo  was,"  was  Mr.  Church's  reply.  "  What  I  real- 
ly was  doing  was  drawing  pictures  on  the  back  of  the 
maps.  There  was  such  a  wealth  of  nice  white  paper  there 
and  a  perfect  drawing-pad,  and  I  didn't  want  it  wasted." 

"Oh,  dear  me,  and  were  you  not  punished  for  that?"  I 
asked. 

"I  don't  think  I  was.  I  was  ordered  to  rub  out  my 
pictures.  I  was  not  a  bad  little  boy.  I  did  as  I  was  told, 
only-" 

"Only  what?" 

"When  the  page  was  clean  I  began  drawing  in  the 
same  places  right  over  again.  I  could  not  help  it.  The 
temptation  was  too  strong.  I  am  afraid  I  was  incorri- 
gible." 

"What  were  your  pictures?"  I  inquired. 

"My  taste  ran  in  one  particular  groove.  I  was  devo- 
ted to  reading,  and  I  knew  the  Pirates'  Own  Book  and 
the  narratives  of  early  African  adventure.  I  wrote 
stories  myself,  and  it  was  perfectly  natural  that  I  should 
illustrate  them.  I  do  not  know  whether  I  admired  my 


pictures,  but  my  schoolmates  did.  They  thought  them 
real  blood-curdling." 

"And  what  were  your  pictures?"  I  asked. 

"Mostly  pirates,  corsairs,  buccaneers,  freebooters.  I 
did  not  want  to  be  a  Captaiti  Kidd  and  run  away  from 
Grand  Rapids,  Michigan,  where  I  was  born,  but  I  wanted 
to  draw  and  paint  him.  Strangely  enough  I  have  pre- 
served a  panorama  of  mine,  and  here  is  some  of  it.  Look 
how  those  pistols  blaze,  how  those  cutlasses  slash  !  Those 
are  not  our  own  Indians;  I  knew  they  were  red;  but  those 
chocolate  figures  are  Africans.  Observe  those  mortal 
combats  and  the  knives  dripping  with  gore,  and  the 
swashbuckler  trooper  standing  in  his  doorway.  That's 
Robin  Hood,  distinguishable  by  his  bow,  arrow,  and  his 
top  boots.  See  the  pistols  going  off,  and  the  torturing 
of  a  prisoner  tied  to  stakes  beseeching  his  captors  for 
mercy. 

"  Did  you  see  no  good  pictures?" 

"  I  remember,  when  I  was  a  small  boy,  my  father  took 
me  to  look  at  some  English  mezzotints,  illustrations  prob- 
ably of  Walter  Scott's  novels.  There  were  Friar  Tuck 
and  Richard  the  Lion-hearted,  and  a  smuggler's  cave, 
and  that  set  me  going  worse  than  ever.  The  taste  for 
drawing  men  fighting  was  ingrained  then." 

"You  received  no  instruction?" 

"There  was  a  really  good  artist  at  Grand  Rapids,  a 
Hollander  who  painted  landscapes.  The  use  of  oil  paints 
was  a  revelation  to  me.  But  I  did  not  have  any  money 
to  buy  oil  paints  with.  In  the  town  there  were  some 
gootl  Jesuit  fathers,  and  in  their  chapel  there  hung 
sacred  pictures.  I  used  to  go  and  look  at  them,  and 
they  rather  awed  me." 

"Then  you  dropped  for  a  while  your  death's-head-and- 
bloody-bone  business?"  I  remarked. 

"No,  not  a  bit  of  it.  Boys'  minds  are  curious.  The 
bad  men  who  inflicted  the  tortures  interested  me  more 
than  the  suffering  martyrs,  and  I  went  in  stronger  than 
ever  for  my  pet  horrors." 

"  You  wanted,  however,  to  be  an  artist?" 

"  Yes,  that  was  my  determination.  All  the  money  I 
could  save  was  spent  in  pencils  and  paint-boxes.  I  had 
the  vaguest  conception  of  what  an  artist  had  to  do,  and 
no  possible  idea  of  the  studies  necessary." 

"  But  you  had  the  will  power?"  I  said. 

"  I  made  up  my  mind  to  earn  some  money,  so  as  to  be 
an  artist.  When  I  was  thirteen  I  went  to  Chicago,  and 
had  a  place  as  clerk  in  an  express  office,  and  when  not 
at  work  I  drew  and  I  drew." 


366 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


"Not  pirates?" 

"No,  they  dropped  out  of  sight.  I  always  saw  what 
was  amusing  in  nature,  and  so  the  comic  side  of  a  frog, 
a  turtle,  a  rabbit,  or  a  bird  always  asserted  itself.  I  ran 
into  caricature.  Then  after  a  while  I  was  not  exactly 
dissatisfied,  but  there  came  a  longing,  an  undefined  feel- 
ing, that  there  was  something  better  and  higher  for  me 
to  do.  I  began  to  see  what  were  my  deficiencies.  I  did 
not  know  how  to  draw.  I  could  take  a  pencil  and  make 
•lines,  but  that  was  not  drawing.  I  could  not  copy 
nature  to  suit  me." 

"Did  none  of  those  beautiful  figures  you  paint  now 
come  up  before  you  then?"  I  asked. 

"  But  vaguely.  I  may  have  caught  glimpses  of  some- 
thing, as  through  the  rifts  of  a  cloud.  I  suppose  my 
imagination  never  was  dormant.  But  dreaming  about  a 
picture  and  sitting  down  wide  awake,  with  a  canvas  be- 
fore you,  and  then  coolly  painting  your  reverie,  are  two 
different  things." 

"Then  you  pegged  and  pegged  away?" 

"Sure,"  was  Mr.  Church's  answer.  "  I  really  do  think 
now,"  he  continued,  "  that  I  did  a  great  deal  of  severe 
work.  I  could  make  money  by  mechanical  drawing,  and 
I  did  that,  and,  with  what  I  could  save,  that  paid  for  my 
•courses  of  instruction  in  a  drawing-class  under  an  intelli- 
gent master." 

''  Did  it  come  quickly — the  study  of  the  human  form?" 

"  No,  it  did  not.  But  I  began  to  understand  what 
were  the  aims  of  the  true  artist,  and  found  how  ditlicult 
it  was  to  give  tangible  form  to  subjects  passing  through 
my  fancy." 

"You  had,  then,  a  glimpse  of  the  shore  you  wanted  to 
touch?"  • 

"  It  was  hazy — a  dim,  blurry  outline.  But  it  was  not 
sailing.  It  was  digging — I  had  to  dig,"  said  Mr.  Church, 
reflectively. 

"Some  time  ago  I  had  a  note  from  you,  Mr.  Church; 
and  here  it  is.  It  was  about  a  picture  for  HARPER'S 
YOUNG  PEOPLE.  You  had  made  a  rough  sketch  of  an 
illustration.  Does  that  not  show  in  a  measure  what  you 
mean  when  you  say  how  difficult  it  is  to  give  tangible 
form  to  subjects  which  pass  through  an  artist's  fancy?" 

"Yes,  that  explains  it  in  a  certain  measure.  The  first 
idea  may  come  like  a  flash,  but  then  before  you  make 
your  picture  there  is  a  process  of  development,  often  of 
an  unconscious  kind.  But  though  it  may  seem  easy  in 
its  accomplishment,  it  is  the  resultant  of  many  years  of 
toil.  Let  me  go  back  to  my  panorama.  I  exhibited  it 
•with  another  boy,  and  the  theatre  was  his  woodshed. 
We  slid  the  panorama  along  a  door.  It  was  a  pay  show, 
and  our  total  receipts  were  fourteen  cents,  and  that  was 
the  first  money  I  made  in  art." 


THE  VISION   OF  THE   KING'S    BAD   EYE. 

BY  H.  K.  1IUNK1TTRICK. 

ONCE  upon  a  time  there  was  a  queer  old  King  who  was  very 
unhappy  because  of  a  defect  iu  one  of  bis  eyes — a  defect 
which'he  had  endeavored  in  many  ways  to  cure,  but  in  vain. 
This  defect,  if  it  may  be  called  such,  was  similar  to  the  imper- 
fection in  a  pane  of  glass  whicb,  when  looked  through,  distorts 
objects  upon  the  other  side  in  a  most  grotesque  anil  uncanny 
manner.  But  in  the  other  eye  everything  appeared  in  its  nat- 
ural form.  Consequently  the  King  was  very  unhappy,  because 
he  could  never  rid  himself  of  the  impression  made  upon  him  by 
an  ordinarily  beautiful  object  which  he  had  once  observed  with 
the  defective  eye.  Over  this  organ  he  usually  wore  a  sort  of  a 
bandage  that  everything  might  appear  to  him  in  its  natural 
shape.  When  he  tixed  both  eyes  upon  a  person  the  effect  would 
be  a  composite  effect  of  beauty  and  ugliness,  which  was  very 
annoying  to  him,  because  he  was  an  optimistic  person,  and  de- 
sired to  view  things  in  their  most  alluring  light.  Yet  he  was  a 
man  of  more  than  ordinary  curiosity,  and  frequently,  when  he 
had  looked  at  a  person  only  to  discover  that  person  to  be  very 


beautiful,  the  temptation  to  look  out  of  the  other  eye,  to  see  if 
his  first  impression  had  been  correct  was  too  much  for  him,  and 
he  would  slyly  remove  the  bandage,  to  find  the  object  of  his 
vision  a  most  hideous  and  grotesque  personage. 

Out  of  the  abnormal  eye  a  man  would  appear  to  be  only  half 
his  actual  height  and  twice  his  width,  and  animals  and  trees 
were  distorted  iu  the  same  manner.  He  would  also  come  to 
grief  in  many  ways,  as  his  perspective  was 'way  at  sea.  He 
would  step  in  the  middle  of  a  brook  which  seemed  to  be  not 
more  than  a  couple  of  feet  v\idr,;ni<l  in  \\alking  up  and  down 
stairs  he  would  often  fall,  as  the  steps  would  ripple  iu  every 
conceivable  way,  and  appear  to  him  to  be  where  in  reality  they 
were  not.  An  apple  would  .seem  to  him  to  be  the  size  of  a 
pumpkin,  and  when  he  had  eaten  three  or  four  of  them  he  would 
consider  bis  appetite  too  great  for  a  healthy  man,  and  conse- 
quently become  greatly  worried  aboiit  himself.  This  was  his 
chief  reason  for  wearing  a  bandage  over  the  eye  which  distorted 
all  objects. 

"All,  what  a  terrible  thing, "he  one  day  said  to  a  courtier,  " to 
look  upon  a  mosquito  and  have  to  imagine  it  a  chicken-hawk." 

'•  It  must  be  horrible," replied  the  courtier, sympathetically. 

"Once,"  said  the  King,  "  when  I  was  young  I  tied  for  dear  life 
from  a  mule,  only  to  discover,  when  I  had  fallen  from  exhaustion, 
that  the  mule  was  a  rabbit.  It  was  then  I  first  took  to  wearing 
a  bandage  over  my  eye.  I  would  give  anything  to  be  cured  of 
this  awful  defect  of  vision.  I  wonder  if  there  is  any  way  out 
of  it?" 

"I  am  at  a  loss  to  give  your  majesty  advice,"  replied  the 
courtier,  humbly ;  "but  it  seems  to  me  yon  might  be  cured  by 
having  the  eye  removed." 

The  King  was  not  particularly  pleased  by  the  suggestion  of 
so  dire  an  expedient,  and  frowned  upon  the  courtier,  who  was 
sorely  distressed  by  his  master's  displeasure.  In  fact,  the  King 
became  impressed  with  the  idea  that  his  courtier  \vas  making 
light  of  his  misfortune,  about  which  he  was  so  sensitive,  and 
forthwith  dismissed  him  from  the  service.  It  soon  became  a 
subject  which  no  one  dared  allude  to;  and  the  King  might  mis- 
take a  chicken  for  an  ostrich,  or  a  tea-rose  for  a  cabbage,  with- 
out fear  of  correction. 

The  King  was  unmarried,  because  lie  had  long  ago  vowed 
that  no  woman  should  ever  become  his  \\itc  who  did  not  appear 
perfectly  lovely  in  the  eye  that  distorted  all  objects. 

"For,"  said  he,  "if  she  should  look  lovely  in  my  sound  eye 
I  might  still  be  mistaken.  She  might  be  actually  more  un- 
comely than  she  would  appear  in  my  good  optic,  and  still  not 
as  distressingly  uncanny  as  the  other  one  would  make  her. 
Therefore  she  must  be  fair  in  my  defective  eye  whom  I  wed." 

Many  a  fair  candidate  had  been  suggested,  and  it  was  the 
opinion,  of  every  cue  whose  opinion  was  worth  anything  that 
the  King  would  never  marry. 

At  a  considerable  distauce  from  the  palace  lived  a  wood- 
chopper  who  was  so  ugly  in  form  and  feature  that  every  one 
wa.s  afraid  to  go  near  him,  and  if  his  wife  had  not  been  as  ugly 
as  himself  she  might  have  succeeded  iu  securing  another  for  a 
husband.  Children  ran  past  their  humble  weather-beaten  abode 
as  if  the  place  were  haunted,  and  no  one  would  associate  with 
them.  Now  these  people  had  a  daughter  who  was  so  gro- 
tesquely ugly  that  beside  her  her  parents  seemed  beautiful. 
The  people  about  the  country  shuddered  upon  beholding  her,  and 
*alled  her  "  The  Vision  of  the  King's  Bad  Eye,"  and  through 
looking  upon  her  people  began  to  feel  a  sympathetic  apprecia- 
tion of  the  poor  King's  malady.  There  was  no  one  charitable 
enough  to  have  a  kind  thought  of  her,  and  as  she  performed  the 
functions  of  a  drudge  about  the  place  she  had  little  to  cheer  her 
life. 

Yet  she  didn't  know  how  ugly  she  was  iu  appearance,  because 
her  parents  had  become  so  accustomed  to  her  face  that  they 
looked  upon  it  only  as  one  of  beauty  and  grace,  which  must  be 
the  characteristics  of  all  who  are  seen  only  through  the  specta- 
cles of  love. 

So  when  others  told  her  brusquely  that  she  was  the  vision 
of  the  King's  bad  eye,  she  really  thought  they  envied  her  her 
good  looks,  and  paid  no  attention  to  their  many  taunts. 

"The  King  would  pull  his  bandage  over  both  eyes  if  he  were 
to  see  you,"  they  would  say. 

Still  she  worked  away  with  a  complacency  that  provoked  her 
tormentors  beyond  measure. 

"Why  don't  you  go  and  let  the  King  look  at  you,  and  see  if 
you  can  spoil  his  good  eye  ?"  they  would  say. 

One  day  she  replied,  "  It  will  be  time  enough  when  the  King 
sends  for  me." 

And  in  this  way  it  came  to  the  King's  ears,  and  his  curiosity 


MARCH  2fi,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


367 


regarding  the  wood-chopper's  daughter  became  so  great  that  he 
did  send  for  her. 

She  appeared  at  his  request  iu  due  time,  and  when  he  cast  his 
good  eye  upon  her  he  thought  her  anytbing  but  lovely. 

"Isii't  she  beautiful!"  exclaimed  the  mother,  proudly,  with  a 
smile  that  was  pathetic. 

Then  the  King  looked  at  her  with  the  bad  eye,  and  she  was 
so  fascinatingly  ugly  that  she  actually  looked  beautiful  in  it. 

"  What !"  exclaimed  the  King, "  have  my  eyes  changed  places !" 
And  thru  he  continued,  after  he  had  looked  at  her  again  with 
each  eye  :  "No,  my  eyes  are  the  same.  If  she  is  homely  in  my 
good  eye  she  is  lovely  in  luy  defective  one.  She  is  the  only 
lovely  object  my  bad  eye  ever  gazed  upon  ;  I  shall  henceforth 
wear  the  bandage  over  my  perfect  eye,  and  be  satisfied  as  I  go 
through  life,  asking  to  see  nothing  else  that  is  beautiful  but 
her."  " 

And  ever  after  the  day  of  the  wedding  the  King  wore  the 
baudage  over  his  good  eye  and  was  perfectly  happy. 


HANDBALL-A  GAME  FOR  EVERYBODY. 

BY   WILLIAM  HEMMINGWAT. 

HANDBALL  is  one  of  the  oldest  games  known.  Its  history 
is  very  nearly  as  old  as  the  history  of  mankind.  Recent 
•excavations  at  Gurob,  a  town  sixty  miles  smith  of  Cairo,  in 
Egypt,  brought  to  light  a  number  of  balls  that  had  been  used 
in  the  game.  Some  were  of  leather,  and  some  of  wood.  They 
were  all  about  as  big  as  modern  tennis-balls.  Men  wise  iu 
arclueology  say  that  these  balls  were  used  in  games  played 
4000  years  ago.  Think  of  a  game  whose  record  is  more  than 
twice  as  old  as  the  Christian  era!  And  indeed  it  is  far  older  than 
-that.  I  remember  that  C'rowley,  the  late  lamenied  Central 
Park  chimpanzee,  whose  well-preserved  body  yon  may  still  see 
in  the  Museum  of  Natural  History,  used  to  have  rare  names  of 
ball  with  Jake  Cook,  his  keeper.  It  is  not  impossible  that 
.simians  played  some  sort  of  ball  game  before  man  lived  on  this 
earth. 

Through  all  the  centuries  of  its  existence  handball  has  been 
Tory  popular.  It  has  no  complicated  rules  to  bother  new  play- 
ers. One  can  have  as  much  fun  at  his  first  game  as  he  can 
find  iu  the  last.  Any  first-class  player  will  tell  you  that  he 
.is  constantly  finding  something  new  in  it.  The  ancient  La- 
cedasmouians  had  a  ball  game  which,  with  very  little  variation, 
becomes  tennis,  which  is  closely  allied  to  handball.  Con- 
quering Roman  soldiers  took  handball  into  Gaul  and  Spain. 
"Longne  Paume"  became  its  name  on  the  continent  of  Europe. 
Like  every  other  good  thing,  it  was  reserved  for  the  exclusive 
use  of  kings  and  nobles.  Louis  X.  of  France,  according  to  his- 
torian Villaret,  died  from  a  congestive  chill  after  playing  longue 
paume  in  the  forest  ofViucennes.  Perhaps  that  is  why  the 
common  people  were  presently  allowed  to  play  the  game.  No 
monarch  has  ever  been  discovered  who  likes  to  monopolize 
deadly  illness.  Still,  if  the  fate  of  Louis  X.  will  keep  my  young 
readers  from  being  careless  and  catching  cold,  the  dear  old  gen- 
tleman may  rest  happy  in  his  sculptured  tomb.  He  will  feel 
that  even  his  death  was  useful  as  a  warning. 

What  outfit  must  we  have  for- a  rousing  game  of  handball? 
Answer:  a  tennis-ball,  a  comparatively  smooth  wall,  and  a  com- 
paratively smooth  plot  of  ground.  Could  anything  be  cheaperf 
And  as  for  the  fun  in  it,  I  have  tried  every  kind  of  athletic 
sport  except  tiger-shooting  and  football,  and  I  place  handball  in 
the  very  front  rank  so  far  as  fun  is  concerned.  And  as  for  ex- 
ercise, listen.  George  was  one  of  the  best  swimmers  and 
wrestlers  in  the  New  York  Athletic  Club.  For  a  few  years  he 
•ceased  exercising  regularly.  He  began  to  grow,  not  tall,  but 
very  far  around.  Then  he  suddenly  developed  a  horror  of  ac- 
cumulating  fat.  He  began  to  wrestle,  to  swim,  to  take  long 
jogs  on  tbe  gallery  running  track.  All  in  vain.  George's  la- 
bors jarred  the  house,  but  he  could  not  take  off  weight,  although 
he  wore  a  bale  of  flannels.  One  day  he  sat  worrying  over  his 
immensity. 

"  Play  a  few  games  of  handball,"  advised  a  friend  of  his.  Up 
went  George  to  the  gymnasium.  After  a  very  little  -while  the 
leaping  and  running  of  the  game  made  his  jolly  face  moist  and 
pink.  In  time  it  became  wet  and  purple.  At  tl'  jud  of  two 
hours'  play  he  found  he  had  lost  five  pounds.  Iiext  day  and  the 
next  he  persevered.  At  the  end  of  a  few  ,«eeks  his  old  dress 
suit  fitted  him  again.  I  remember  reducing  myself  three  pounds 
one  winter  afternoon  when  I  was  already  trained  down  as  firm 


as  I  should  be.    I  knew  I  ought  to  stop  playing,  but  to  stop  was 
impossible.     The  game  was  too  fascinating. 

It  seems  to  me  every  boy  should  make  it  a  fixed  rule  that 
when  he  has  pla\ed  the  game  two  hours  he  shall  firmly  and 
manfully  put  on  his  coal  ami  walk  away  from  the  court — and 
stay  away  for  the  rest  of  tin-  day.  Too  much  exercise  will  do  a 
fellow  more  harm  than  smoking  or  going  without  sleep.  Don't 
get  iu  the  habit  of  saving.  "  I'll  play  just  one  more  game."  Learn 
to  stop  at  the  time  yon  first  intend'to  stop. 

Any  house  wall  or  barn  wall  will  do  to  play  handball  against, 
if  it  has  no  windows.  It  is  useless  to  say,  "  I'll  be  careful  ami  1 
won't  knock  the  ball  through  a  window."  You  can't  help  it. 
Moments  are  bound  to  come  when  you  will  pounce  on  the  ball, 
yelling  like  an  Indian,  and  you'll  smash  it  with  all  the  strength 
in  your  mind  and  hod\ .  Then  it  is  too  late  to  think  of  win- 
dows. Profit  by  the  experience  of  one  who  has  broken  and 
paid. 

Let  us  suppose  yon  have  found  the  gable  end  of  a  house  or 
barn  or  stable,  shop  or  any  structure  not  pierced  by  a  window. 
Draw  straight  lines,  one  fifteen  feet,  and  one  two  feet  above  and 
parallel  to  the  ground.  Let  them  be  fifteen  feet  long.  Now 
draw  vertical  lines  from  each  end  of  the  top  line  to  the  ground. 
The  space  enclosed  above  the  lower  line  is  the  space  into  which 
the  ball  must  be  driven.  Draw  straight  lines  on  the  ground 
from  each  end  of  the  playing  space  for  a  distance  of  twenty-live 
feet.  Close  this  with  a  straight  line  at  the  end,  and  your  court 
is  finished.  If  you  choose  you  can  mark  the  wall  with  white 
chalk,  although  white  paint  is  better.  If  the  wall  is  of  smooth- 
faced brick  yon  are  indeed  lucky.  If  it  is  dressed  with  cement, 
then — well,  my  hands  ache  to  play  in  your  court.  It  is  well 
worthwhile  to  level  the  ground  of  the  court  with  great  thor- 
oughness. Borrow  or  hire  a  long  spirit-level  and  some  shovels; 
these  and  a  few  hours'  work  will  give  you  a  smooth  playing 
space. 

Now  the  game  begins.  Let  Dick  and  Harry  play.  Dick 
serves.  He  stands  at  the  service-line  (which  is  ten  feet  from 
tbe  wall)  and  throws  down  the  tennis-ball.  As  it  rebounds  he 
strikes  it  up  against  the  wall  with  the  palm  of  his  right  hand. 
Let  him  keep  his  fingers  and  thumb  well  closed,  for  if  a  loose 
finger  hits  the  ball  it  will  ache. 

Now  the  ball  rebounds  from  the  wall.  If  it  has  hit  the  wall 
above  the  "  dead-line"  (the  lower  one),  and  if  it  has  bounded  out 
past  the  service-line  aud  into  the  court,  Harry  must  hit  it  back 
to  the  wall,  and  cause  it  to  return  iu  the  same  way.  On  this 
'•return," as  it  is  called,  the  ball  need  not  come  back  past  the 
service-line.  It  is  enough  if  it  returns  past  the  " balk-line," 
which  is  drawn  on  the  ground  three  feet  out  from  the  base  of 
the  wall  and  parallel  to  it. 

One  word  as  to  scoring.  If  Dick,  who,  you  remember,  "served" 
the  ball,  manages  to  return  the  ball  so  that  Harry  can't  play  it 
back  within  the  lines  I  have  described,  he  scores  a  point.  If 
Harry  does  the  same  trick  first,  Dick  goes  out.  This  does  not 
count  as  one  point,  but  it  gives  Harry  the  "service"  and  a 
chance  to  score.  Any  one  who  drives  the  ball  out  of  bounds  of 
course  loses  by  it.  If  he  is  "hand  in,"  he  loses  his  service,  if  he 
is  "hand  out,"  the  server  scores  a  point  against  him.  Twenty- 
one  points  constitute  a  game.  Four  boys  can  play  in  one  court, 
two  on  a  side. 


A   CERTAIN  FAIRY. 

BY    MARGARET    E.   SANGSTER. 

THERE'S  a  dear  little  fairy  with  very  bright  eyes 
Who  lives  iu  the  school-room  and  sleeps  on  the  shelves, 
Where  they  shut  up  the  books  which,  to  make  children  wise, 
The  children  must  look  at  and  handle  themselves. 

Aud  morning  by  morning,  at  nine  of  the  clock, 

The  small  fairy  wakes  and  springs  dowu  to  the  floor, 

For  the  lad  and  the  lassie  iu  jacket  or  frock 
Will  need  her  to  aid  them  ere  task-time  is  o'er. 

Be  the  problem  vexations,  or  stubborn  the  verb, 

Depend  on  this  friend  to  give  help  quite  worth  while; 

The  sternest  of  masters  she'll   never  disturb, 
Her  presence  has  ever  been  met  with  a  smile. 

The  Fairy  "Attention!"     Present  you  ?     Of  course, 

The  dear  little  fairy  with  very  bright  e; 
Who  lives  iu  the  school-room  for  better,  for  worse, 

Aud  knows  every  secret  that  makes  children  wise. 


368 


HAKPEK'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


A  GOOD  SUBSTITUTE. 
IF  my  little  clog  should  lose  his  tail, 

I'd  buy  him  a  small  sand  bag 
To  take  its  place ;  'twould  be  very  sad 

If  he'd  nothing  at  all  to  wag. 


TUB  BABY'S  NAME. 

•'  WHAT  are  they  going  to  call  your  new  brother,  Jack  ?" 
"  Oh,  I  don't  know— -Jack,  I  guess !" 
"  But  that's  your  name." 

"  That  doesn't  make  any  difference.  It  was  Papa's  before  I 
had  it.  Pa  and  ma  have  a  way  of  inakiu'  us  boys  use  up  their 
old  things." 

• 

A  GREAT  SCHEME. 
I  WISH  I  owned  a  parrot  that 

Had  some  intelligence, 
To  learn  my  lessons  every  day, 
Would  it  not  be  immense  ? 

To  hide  him  in  my  pocket  where 

My  teacher  couldn't  see, 
And  let  him  answer  questions  that 

Proved  much  too  hard  for  me  ? 


THE  Japanese  relate  a  story  to  their  children  of  a  certain 
petty  nobleman  who,  having  eaten  up  his  fortune,  took  rooms 
next  door  to  a  famous  restaurant,  in  order  that  he  might  enjoy 
the  odors  of  the  cooking  viands  in  the  which  he  could  no  longer 
indulge  himself. 

The  proprietor,  hearing  of  this  after  some  time,  presented  a 
bill,  wherein  he  charged  two  yen  fifty  sen  for  the  vapors  of  food 
inhaled  by  the  poor  nobleman  during  the  month. 

Whereupon  the  ex-gourmand,  calling  for  his  old  cash- box, 
which  now  held  but  a  few  copper  coins,  shook  it  violently  in  the 
ear  of  the  proprietor,  and  replied, 

"As  you  charge,  me  for  the  fumes  of  your  food  I  pay  you  with 
the  sound  of  my  money." 


SETTING    A    HEN. 

DICK.  "SAY,  BEOKIE,  WHY    IB   SKTTING    A    HEN  LIKE  GARDENING  ? 
GIVE  IT  UP?    BECAUSE  IT'S  CULTIVATING  AN  KGG  PLANT." 


MOTHER.  "Jack,  are  you 
still  the  head  of  your  class?" 

JACK.  "  No,  ma;  some  one 
had  a  better  head  than  I, 
and  he  is  there  now." 


A    QUICK    CURE. 
MOTHER.  "DON'T  YOU  FKFI.  ABLE  TO  BIT  up  TO-DAY?" 

BOY.     "No,  MAMMA,   I    AM    SO    WEAK." 

MAMMA.  "  WELL,  LET  MU  SUK.    I  GUESS  YOU  WILL  BE  ABLE  TO  GO  TO  SOUOOL  MONDAY.     TO-DAY  is  SATURDAY, 
D — " 
BOY  (jumping  out  of  bed).   "SATOBDAY!     I  THOUGHT  IT  WAS  FRIDAY." 


A    LARGE  BOOK. 

IN  one  of  the  recent  num- 
bers of  HARPER'S  YOUNG 
PEOPLE  a  short  sketch 
appeared  describing  the 
smallest  book  probably  in 
existence. 

As  an  offset  to  this,  it 
will  doubtless  interest  the 
n-ailcr  to  know  of  a  certain 
famous  copy  of  the  Koran, 
or  bible  of  the  Moslems. 
This  book's  enormous  size 
has  given  it  a  great  reputa- 
tion. It  is  something  like 
five  feet  long  by  three  feet 
wide. 

The  letters  or  characters 
average  three  inches  in 
height,  and  the  book  itself 
is  about  a  foot  in  thickness. 
It  is  jealously  guarded,  and 
although  a  religious  book, 
still  it  would  be  rather 
amusing  to  watch  the.  ef- 
forts of  a  couple  of  full- 
grown  men  opening  it,  for 
all  the  world  like  one  would 
open  the  flap  doors  of  a  cel- 
lar, the  binding  being,  liter- 
ally, in  boards.  The  labor 
of  preparing  such  a  work 
covered  a  period  of  six 
years. 


H 


HARPEKS 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


Copyright,  1*1»5,  by  HARPKH  A    BROTHERS.      All   Rights  Re; 


PUBLISHED     WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI. — NO.  805. 


NEW  YORK,   TUESDAY,   APRIL  2.   1895 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO    DOLLAltS    A    YEAR. 


THE     BOOT     ON     THE     OTHER     LEG. 


BY    ALBERT     LEE. 


IT  had  been  thawing  and  raining  alternately  for  three 
or  four  days.  The  boys  had  been  obliged  to  stay  in- 
doors, and  time  had  hung1  most  heavily  on  their  hands. 
But  Saturday  afternoon  Dick  Allstoii  came  in  and  said  he 
was  tired  of  hanging  around  his  own  house  all  the  time, 
and  wanted  to  know  if  Dave  and  Bob  Clark  could  not 
think  up  something  to  do. 

"I  can't,"  said  Dave,  frankly,  "  but  let's  go  out  to  the 
barn  ;  perhaps  we  will  get  some  inspiration  there." 

The  barn  was  usually  a  fruitful  place  for  inspiration, 
because  it  was  an  exceedingly  large  structure,  and  because 


one  end  of  the  loft  was  piled  with  all  sorts  of  old  things 
that  had  been  stowed  away  up  there  as  worthless  for  at 
least  three  generations.  Grandfather  Clark  had  made  the 
first  contributions  to  this  heaven  of  boyish  delight,  and  as 
Grandfather  Clark  had  spent  most  of  his  days  in  the  East 
India  trade,  as  skipper  of  the  clipper  ship  Moonshine,  his 
cast-off  material  furnished  in  itself  a  treasure-house  for 
Dave  and  his  brother.  The  old  Captain,  now  long  since 
dead,  used  to  make  a  yearly  trip  to  Bombay,  and  his  old 
trunks  and  chests  and  belongings,  when  relegated  to  the 
barn,  had  formed  almost  a  wagon -load  in  themselves. 


370 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME    XVI. 


But  the  boys  bad  frequently  overhauled  them  and  pulled 
them  to  pieces,  and  almost  all  the  "  inspiration"  had  long 
since  been  knocked  out  of  them. 

But  Dick  and  Bob  and  Dave  climbed  the  rickety  ladder 
once  again,  and  invaded  the  dusty  store-room  of  by- 
gone glories,  and  sat  on  the  old  boxes  just  as  they  had 
done  hundreds  of  times  before. 

"I  know  what!"  finally  exclaimed  Dick,  as  he  jumped 
to  his  feet.  "Let's  send  an  April-fool  present  to  Sam 
Dickson." 

"Oh  no,"  objected  Dave.  "Sam  Dickson  has  had 
trouble  enough  lately.  It's  no  reason  because  Sam's  fa- 
ther is  suing  my  father  that  we  should  be  mean  to  liim 
and  bother  him." 

"  Sam  is  a  pig',"  stated  Bob,  emphatically. 

"I  know  you  think  so,"  replied  Dave.  "You  and 
Dick  had  a  fight  with  him,  and  Sam  got  the  best  of  you, 
and  ever  since  you  have  hated  him." 

"Got  the  best  of  us?  I  guess  not!"  retorted  Dick. 
v  But  if  you  don't  want  to  join  in  a  joke,  you  needn't. 
Bob  and  I  will  make  a  present  for  Sam,  and  send  it  to 
him." 

"Well,  I  shall  have  nothing  to  do  with  it,"  said  Dave, 
hotly;  and  he  climbed  down  the  ladder,  and  went  back 
through  the  rain  to  the  house. 

Sam  Dickson's  father,  as  Dave  had  said,  was,  in  fact, 
having  a  lawsuit  with  Mr.  Clark.  It  was  all  on  account 
of  a  business  enterprise  that  the  two  men  had  entered  into 
together,  and  which  had  turned  out  disastrously  for  Mr. 
Dickson.  The  latter  charged  Mr.  Clark  with  the  blame, 
and  an  action  resulted.  In  the  mean  while  the  Dicksons 
had  been  left  almost  penniless,  and  had  been  forced  to 
move  away  from  Tanyille-by-the-Sea,  and  to  take  very 
humble  lodgings  in  Boston. 

"  We'll  fix  that  Sam,"  said  Dick,  as  Dave  slammed  the 
barn  door. 

"That  we  will,"  added  Bob.  "We'll  send  him  a 
big  box,  and  make  him  pay  the  expressage.  That'll  be 
an  April  fool  for  him  for  keeps." 

"  What  shall  we  put  in  it?" 

"  Oh,  anything.  Let's  look  about  for  some  truck  up 
here.  And  then  we'll  pack  it  up  in  all  the  boxes  we  can 
find,  and  ship  it  the  day  before  April  1st.  That's  day  af- 
ter to-morrow." 

Then  these  two  uncharitable  boys  started  in  to  rum- 
mage about  in  all  the  old  trunks  and  chests  to  find  some 
worthless  object  to  send  to  poor  Sam  Dickson  in  Boston. 
They  turned  everything  inside  out,  but  they  could  not 
find  anything  worthless  enough  for  their  purpose  any- 
where. Finally,  however,  Dick  stumbled  over  a  small 
card-board  box  in  a  corner  of  one  of  the  oldest  chests,  and 
when  he  opened  it,  he  found  it  to  contain  half  a  dozen 
dirty  pebbles. 

"Here  are  some  old  stones,"  he  exclaimed.  "Let's 
send  him  these." 

"I  guess  they'll  do  as  well  as  anything,"  answered 
Bob.  "  Then  he  can  go  out  in  his  back  yard  and  throw 
stones  at  himself  instead  of  throwing  them  at  us." 

The  boys  wrapped  the  pebbles  up  in  a  piece  of  brown 
paper,  and  labelled  it  "April  Fool."  Then  they  put  this 
package  in  a  card-board  box,  and  likewise  labelled  that 
"  April  Fool."  Having  done  this,  they  placed  their  gift 
in  a  wooden  box,  and  packed  it  in  straw.  This  they  also 
labelled,  and  then  placed  that  in  another  box.  A  fourth 
larger  box  was  found,  and  the  entire  combination  was 
nailed  up  and  duly  addressed  to  Sam  Dickson  at  his  lodg- 
ings in  Boston.  They  were  careful  to  leave  no  marks  on 
any  of  the  boxes  that  would  show  who  the  senders  were. 

Bob  and  Dick  said  nothing  more  about  their  scheme  to 
Dave,  but  on  the  afternoon  of  March  31st  they  carted  the 
big  box  to  the  express-office,  and  despatched  it,  C.O.D., 
to  Sam,  after  having  given  assumed  names  to  the  receiv- 
ing clerk. 


On  the  afternoon  of  April  1st  Sam  Dickson  and  his  fa- 
ther and  mother  were  sitting  in  their  little  dining-room 
together  conversing  with  old  Mr.  Balsam,  who  had  stopped 
in  to  say  that  he  was  going  to  New  York  that  night,  and 
who  wanted  to  know  if  he  could  do  anything  for  the 
Dicksons  during  his  visit  to  the  great  chvv.  Just  as  he 
was  about  to  bid  them  farewell  the  bell  rang,  and  an  ex- 
pressman with  a  large  C.  O.  D.  box  addressed  to  Sam 
Dickson  presented  a  bill  for  $3  75. 

"What  is  this,  Sam?"  asked  bis  father. 

"I  don't  know,  father.  I  have  not  ordered  anything 
from-  anybody.  It's  a  surprise  to  me." 

"Do  you  want  this  box?"  shouted  the  'expressman, 
roughly,  as  he  shoved  the  bill  into  Mr.  Dickson's  hand. 
Mr.  Dickson  looked  surprised  for  a  moment;  then  he  felt 
in  his  pocket,  paid  the  man,  and  he  and  Sam  carried  the 
box  up  stairs. 

"Perhaps  it's  a  present,"  said  Mrs.  Dickson,  as  Sam 
went  into  the  kitchen  to  get  a  hatchet. 

"Heaven  knows  we  need  presents  badly  enough,"  re- 
plied Mr.  Dickson,  with  a  sad  smile,  and  then  everybody 
sat  down  and  watched  Sam  open  the  box. 

As  soon  as  the  lid  came  off  the  cruel  words  "April 
Fool "  burst  upon  the  little  company,  and  almost  brought 
tears  to  th'e  eyes  of  Sam's  mother.  Mr.  Balsam  looked 
very  fierce,  and  shifted  around  uneasily  in  his  chair.  Mr. 
Dickson  said  nothing,  but  walked  slowly  into  the  other 
room,  and  began  to  read  a  newspaper. 

"I'll  just  see  how  much  of  a  fool  trick  this  is,"  said 
Sam,  with  his  teeth  clinched.  And  he  went  at  those 
wooden  boxes  like  an  Indian  at  an  enemy.  The  splinters 
flew  to  the  right  and  to  the  left,  the  straw  was  scattered 
all  over  the  floor,  and  still  the  words  "  April  Fool  "  and 
nothing  else  kept  corrrtng  into  evidence.  At  last  Sam 
reached  the  brown  "paper  package  and  opened  it,  and 
threw  the  stones  down  on  the  table. 

"Nothing  but  half  a  dozen  pebbles,"  he  said,  with  a 
sigh ;  but  his  eyes  flashed  in  a  way  that  would  have  made 
Bob  Clark  and  Dick  Allston  uncomfortable  if  they  had 
been  in  that  room. 

Old  Mr.  Balsam  pulled  out  his  spectacles  and  moved 
his  chair  up  to  the  table.  He  picked  up  one  of  the  peb- 
"bles  and  looked  at  it.  Then  he  picked  up  another.  Pres- 
ently he  grew  very  red,  and  coughed,  and  readjusted  his 
glasses,  and  rubbed  the  stone  on  'his  sleeve. 

"A  bowl  of  water,  please,  Mrs.  Dickson,"  he  said,  ner- 
vously. 

Mrs.  Dickson  did  not  quite  comprehend,  but  she  drew 
some  water  in  a  salad  bowl,  and  placed  it  on  the  table. 
Mr.  Balsam  dropped  all  the  stones  into  the  water,  which 
soon  took  on  a  grayish  color  as  the  dirt  from  the  pebbles 
melted  away.  The  old  gentleman  took  out  the  largest 
of  the  stones,  and  dried  it  carefully  with  his  handker- 
chief. It  was  about  as  big  as  his  thumb  joint.  He  rubbed 
it  and  scrutinized  it  and  squinted  at  it,  and  then  he 
did  the  same  thing  with  each  of  the  others.  At  first  he 
looked  surprised,  then  he  began  to  smile,  and  at  last  he 
said: 

"Sam,  my  boy,  if  this  is  an  April-fool  joke  the  joke  is 
not  on  you.  These  pebbles  are  precious  stones.  Four  of 
them  are  Indian  rubies  and  the  other  two  are  sapphires. 
They  are  uncut  stones,  but  they  must  be  worth  thousands 
of  dollars." 

"What!"  ejaculated  Sam,  aghast. 

"Have  you  any  idea  who  sent  them  to  you?" 

"Not  the  slightest,"  answered  Sam,  now  very  much 
excited. 

"So  much  the  better,"  said  Mr.  Balsam,  chuckling  to 
himself.  "If  you  want  me  to,  I  will  take  these  stones 
to  New  York  with  me  to-night,  and  have  them  valued  in 
Maiden  Lane  to-morrow.  Perhaps  I  can  sell  them  for 
you." 

But  Sam  and  his  mother  were  too  much  excited  to  an- 


APRIL  2,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


371 


swer  this  question  off-hand.  Sain  rushed  in  for  his  fa- 
ther, and  the  four  people  sat  down  around  the  table  and 
examined  the  pebbles  again  and  again. 

"There's  no  doubt  about  it,"  repeated  Mr.  Balsam. 
"Those  are  four  rubies  and  two  sapphires.  I'll  go  my 
life  on  it.  I  have  not  had  a  brother  in  the  jewelry  busi- 
ness for  fifteen  years  for  nothing." 

"  Well,  they're  Sam's,"  was  all  Mrs.  Dickson  could 
say. 

"Yes,  they're  Sam's,"  added  his  father,  "and  it's  for 
him  to  do  as  he  wishes  with  them." 

"Shall  I  sell  them  for  you?"  asked  Mr.  Balsam 
again. 

"Sell  them?"  exclaimed  Sam — "sell  them?  I  should 
say  so.  What  are  those  stones  worth  to  me  as  they  are? 


They're  too  small  for  building  material  and  too  big  for 
bird  seed.  Why,  I'd  take  fifty  cents  for  them." 

And  so  it  was  quickly  agreed  that  Mr.  Balsam  should 
take  the  stones  to  New  York  with  him,  and  sell  them  if 
he  could.  He  wrapped  them  carefully  in  tissue-paper, 
put  tlirm  in  his  inner  pocket,  and  went  away. 

Two  days  later  a  telegram  came  to  Sam  from  New 
York.  It  read : 

"  IL'ive  sold  the  stones  for  §17,500.     EDGAR  BALSAM." 

And  when  the  story  of  the  April-fool  box  got  into  the 
newspapers — as  such  stories  always  do — and  was  eventu- 
ally printed  in  the  Gazette  of  Tanville-by-the-Sea,  Dick 
and  Bob  saw  it,  and  they  went  to  bed  and  were  down 
sick  for  three  whole  days. 


LIFE-BLOOD     OF    A    GREAT    CITY. 

HOW     NEW     YORK     SEES     AT     NIGHT. 

BY     WILLIAM     HEMMIXGWAY. 


OU  turn  on  a  gas -jet  or  an  electric  light 
without  thinking  much  of  the  operation. 
But  if  you  ever  happen  to  visit  one  of 
the  gigantic  workshops  where  light  is 
manufactured  for  this  city,  you  will 
certainly  be  impressed  by  the  tremendous 
power  that  stands  behind  every  dancing 
gas-jet  and  every  glowing  electric  bulb.  Thousands 
of  laborers  and  hundreds  of  thoroughly  trained  sci- 
entists toil  day  and  night  for  our  benefit  without  ceas- 
ing. Their  duties  are  divided  into  hundreds  of  bewilder- 
ing specialties.  After  visiting  a  few  light-factories  one 
comes  away  with  a  confused  impression  of  magicians  and 
enchantments. 

Down  at  the  foot  of  East  Twenty-first  Street  more  than 
three  city  blocks  are  occupied  by  one  of  the  plants  of  the 
Consolidated  Gas  Company,  the  chief  manufacturer  of 
illuminating  gas  in  this  country.  The  region  round 
about  looks  like  an.  enchanted  country  full  of  high  round 
castles.  But  if  you  go  closer,  you  will  find  that  the  tall 
towers  are  made  of  stout  iron,  and  that  they  are  the  stor- 
age reservoirs  from  which  gas  is  driven  under  pressure 
through  miles  of  streets,  so  that  it  darts  out  in  jets  at 
every  lamp-post,  or  in  your  drawing-room  or  kitchen,  or 
pretty  nearly  wherever  else  you  want  it. 

In  this  Twenty-first  Street  light-factory  the  first  thing 
that  impressed  me  was  the  entire  absence  of  hurry  or 
apparent  effort.  Gangs  of  laborers  were  dawdling  along, 
handling  shovels  and  all  sorts  of  outlandish  iron  in- 
struments, as  if  the}r  had  years  before  them,  and  didn't 
care  whether  they  finished  their  work  just  now  or  next 
century.  But  all  this  is  on  the  surface.  They  work  hard, 
but  each  gang  is  as  well  trained  as  any  college  boat  crew. 
They  swing  along  easily,  but  manage  to  accomplish 
a  great  deal.  The  men  in  this  factory  were  making  il- 
luminating gas  by  cooking  hard  coal  and  Croton  water 
together.  Of  course  the  excellence  of  the  product  depends 
on  the  way  it  is  treated  after  the  elements  are  put  to- 
gether. Half  a  dozen  gasogenes  are  standing  side  by 
side.  Each  one  is  a  tall  cylinder  of  black  iron,  capable 
of  holding  from  three  to  five  tons  of  hard  coal.  The  an- 
thracite is  so  piled  up  within  that  it  can  all  catch  fire  at 
the  same  time.  When  I  arrived,  a  couple  of  laborers  on 
an  elevated  railway  track  had  just  dumped  the  last  car- 
load of  coal  into  the  yawning  fire-box. 

A  big  fellow  in  blue  overalls  set  fire  to  the  coal,  and  the 
air-blast  was  turned  on,  thereby  creating  a  furious  forced 
draught.  There  was  a  roaring,  rushing  sound  within  the 


gasogene.  A  tall,  feathery-looking  plume  of  blue  flame 
darted  from  out  of  what  you  or  I  would  call  the  chimney 
of  the  gasogeue,  but  what  the  gas-makers  call  the  purge- 
valve.  This  blue  flame  was  almost  pure  hydrogen,  good 
enough  for  heating  purposes,  but  not  worth  considering 
by  itself  as  a  means  of  lighting.  These  jets  of  burning 
hydrogen,  by -the -way,  can  be  seen  for  miles  at  night. 
Their  pale  and  dancing  shapes  give  that  part  of  the  East 
River  an  uncanny  air. 

But  presently  the  flame  at  the  purge-valve  took  on  an 
orange  hue.  The  foreman  was  watching  it  with  the  inten- 
sity of  a  fisherman  awaiting  the  precise  moment  to  land 
his  prize.  The  orange  flame  deepened. 

"Shell  do,"  cried  the  foreman,  closing  the  purge- 
valve,  while  liis  assistant  shut  off  the  forced  draught. 
The  whole  mass  of  coal,  now  incandescent  within  the  gas- 
ogene, would  blind  us  with  its  dazzling,  glaring  whiteness 
could  we  find  a  vent  in  the  thick  black  iron  wall  to  peep 
through.  Without  losing  a  moment,  the  foreman  turned 
a  valve  that  sent  a  vast  cloud  of  steam  hissing  into  the 
superheated  cupola.  Up  it  flew,  decomposing  as  it  went. 

Pure  hydrogen  was  what  flowed  from  the  gasogene  now. 
It  was  led  off  through  tight  iron  pipes  to  large  tanks  or 
holders.  Thence  it  was  driven  under  pressure  to  the  car- 
buretters. The  blue  flame  (hydrogen)  that  first  appeared 
when  the  coal  began  to  burn  was  unavoidably  wasted, 
but  every  bit  of  the  gas  that  came  from  the  decomposed 
steam  was  conveyed  to  the  carburetters.  Here  the  hy- 
drogen, which,  by -the -way,  is  the  lightest  substance 
known  —  fifteen  times  lighter  than  air  —  is  mixed  with 
naphtha,  which  gives  it  luminosity.  The  naphtha  is  al- 
lowed to  trickle  down  upon  a  series  of  trays,  wherein 
steam  jets  turn  it  to  vapor.  The  hydrogen,  flowing  up 
from  the  bottom  of  the  carburetter,  readily  mingles  with 
the  vaporized  naphtha. 

If  you  should  visit  this  plant,  the  superintendent  will 
take  great  pride  in  showing  you  the  U.  G.  I.  process  for 
cooking  coal  and  water  together,  and  thereby  making 
gas.  The  mysterious  letters  stand  for  United  Gas  Im- 
provement Company.  By  this  plan  the  generator,  car- 
buretter, and  superheater  are  grouped  close  together,  and 
a  great  deal  of  the  hydrogen  that  would  escape  in  the 
older  process  is  caught  and  used.  Inside  of  the  super- 
heater is  as  fine  a  display  of  fireworks  as  any  one  would 
care  to  see.  Here  the  hydrogen  and  naphtha  vapor  are 
"  fixed,"  by  being  driven  through  a  gigantic  checker- 
work  structure  of  fire-proof  brick  that  has  been  heated 
to  a  fierce  blood-red  hue. 


372 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


LIGHTING    STREETS    BV    ELECTRICITY. 

But  let  us  go  back  to  the  condensers.  These  are  in  a 
lofty  brick  house  on  the  south  side  of  Twenty-first  Street. 
They  are  enormous  square  black  iron  boxes,  and  no  mat- 
ter by  what  process  the  gas  is  made,  it  is  cooled  here,  and 
much  reduced  in  bulk. 

One  would  think  that  after  all  these  operations  the  gas 
must  be  ready  for  use;  but  much  yet  remains  to  be  done. 
From  the  condensers  it  is  led  to  the  scrubbers.  These 
are  big  black  iron,  cylinders  —  air-tight,  of  course  —  and 
filled  with  trays.  The  gas  slowly  ascends  from  the  very 
lowest  part  of  the  cylinder.  Its  color,  as  I  should  have 
said  before,  is  quite  black.  Jets  of  water  play  constantly 
upon  the  topmost  tray  of  the  scrubber,  and  they  are  con- 
stantly splashing  all  the  way  down.  As  the  gas  ascends 
it  becomes  cleaner  and  cleaner,  while  the  descending 
water  grows  blacker  and  blacker.  This  process  rids  the 
gas  -of  all  impurities,  which  would  interfere  with  its 
successful  use  in  our  homes  as  light. 

Now  the  gas  is  color- 
less, but  it  needs  still 
more  cleaning,  for  it  is 
full  of  sulphur  and  car- 
bonic acid.  If  it  were 
delivered  to  the  consumer 
in  this  state,  its  odor  of 
sulphuretted  hydrogen 
(the  active  principle  of 
aged  but  not  infirm  eggs) 
would  make  it  unbear- 
able. So  from  the  scrub- 
bers the  gas  is  driven 
through  pipes  to  the  puri- 
fiers. These  are  broad, 
rather  shallow  boxes  of 
iron,  each  about  three  feet 
deep  and  of  as  great  floor 
area  as  the  average  din- 
ing-room. These  boxes 
are  filled  with  fine  oyster- 
shell  lime.  There  is  a  fine 
iron,  grating  between  the 
upper  and  lower  lime  com- 
partment. Here  again  the 


gas  is  driven  in  at  the  bottom,  and  comes  out  at  the  top. 
The  fluid  is  driven  in  this  way  through  all  of  the  four 
purifiers  in  a  "set,"  and  when  it  finally  emerges  it  is 
clean  and  pure  and  fit  for  use  at  last.  It  is  driven 
through  either  one  of  the  big  station  meters,  and  from 
there  to  the  "  delivery  holders"  which  stand  on  the,other 
side  of  Avenue  A. 

The  station  meter  is  a  beautiful  machine.  It  is  a  cyl- 
inder of  the  finest  wrought  iron  so  deftly  joined  that  not 
one  whiff  of  gas  escapes.  There  is  absolutely  no  odor  of 
gas  in  the  meter-room.  The  meters — there  are  four  of 
them  —  are  18  feet  6  inches  in  diameter,  and  18  feet  (> 
inches  long.  To  describe  in  detail  how  the  gas  is  mea- 
sured would  take  too  much  time.  In  one  word  it  regis- 
ters the  number  of  cubic  feet  of  the  fluid  that  passes 
through  it.  Either  one  of  the  two  newest  station  meters 
registers  six  millions  of  cubic  feet  a  day. 

From  the  meters  the  gas  is  driven  into  the  delivery 
holders.  These  are  the  lofty  domes  with  weighted  tops 
that  drive  the  fluid  through  the  mains,  and  so  to  wher- 
ever it  may  be  needed. 

What  you  have  been  reading  about  is  the  newest  style 
of  gas-making.  Another  system  is  in  use  at  the  East 
Fourteenth  Street  plant — the  manufacture  of  gas  from 
soft,  or  bituminous  coal.  In  this  place  soft  coal  is  shov- 
elled into  retorts  by  brawny  fellows  whose  muscles  would 
do  credit  to  many  a  professional  athlete.  The  retorts 
are  arranged  in  "benches,"  or  groups  of  six,  built  of 
fire-clay,  and  shaped  like  long  narrow  bake-ovens.  It 
is  a  cheerful  sight  to  see  the  laborers  hurling  the  soft 
coal  into  the  retorts.  Their  shovel  is  no  shovel  at  all, 
but  rather  a  long  shallow  trough  of  iron  big  enough  to 
fill  the  retort.  The  laborers  throw  coal  into  it  with 
smaller  shovels.  Two  giants  grasp  it  at  each  side,  and 
the  biggest  giant  of  all  seizes  the  handle  at  the  rear  end. 
They  swing  it  up,  and,  resting  the  front  end  of  the  trough 
on  the  edge  of  the  glowing  retort,  push  in  the  four  hun- 
dred pounds  of  soft  coal.  Just  as  you  think  the  shovel 
has  been  swallowed  in  the  roaring  flames  the  last  giant 
gives  the  handle  a  twist,  turns  the  shovel  upside  down, 
spreads  the  coal  evenly  in  the  retort,  and  drags  the 
shovel  out.  It  is  all  done  so  swiftly  that  the  eye  can 
hardly  follow  the  motions. 

The  gas  that  arises  from  the  retorts,  around  which,  of 
course,  fierce  flames  are  darting,  is  led  away  through  the 
hydraulic  main  and  mixed  with  naphtha,  condensed, 
scrubbed,  and  purified,  in  the  same  way  that  the  hard 
coal  or  "water  gas"  is  treated.  When  the  gas  has  all 


NEW    YORK    FROM    THE    RIVER    AT    NIGHT. 


INSIDE    A    GAS    FACTORY. 


been  cooked  out  of  the  soft  coal,  coke  remains.  This  is 
used  in  heating  the  retorts,  and  much  of  it  is  sold  to 
bakers.  One  of  the  most  valuable  by-products  of  illu- 
minating gas  is  the  ammonia  which  is  gathered  in  the 
scrubbers. 

Perhaps  it  will  interest  you  to  know  that  fifty  millions 
of  cubic  feet  of  gas  were  used  daily  in  this  city  last  year, 
and  that  one  company  alone  sold,  eight  thousand  mill- 
ions of  cubic  feet  of  gas  in  1893.  An  army  of  four  thou- 
sand men  is  employed  in  furnishing  gas -light  to  this 
city. 

Electricity  plays  an  important  part  in  the  lighting  of 
New  York.  One  of  the  remarkable  things  about  its  use 
is  that  it  has  largely  increased  the  consumption  of  gas. 

"  I  suppose  people  become  so  accustomed  to  brilliantly 
lighted  streets,"  said  Chief  Engineer  William  H.  Brad- 
ley to  me,  "that  they  burn  three  or  four  gas-jets  at 
home  now  where  one  or  two  used  to  answer  very  well." 

The  difference  between  the  gas  plant  and  the  place 
where  electric  light  is  made  is  as  great  as  the  difference 
between  an  old-fashioned  sloop-of-war  and  an  up-to-date 
cruiser  like  the  New  York.  After  spending  an  hour 
in  the  Edison  Electric  Illuminating  Company's  Duane 
Street  plant — the  largest  station — you  will  probably  go 
away  wondering,  as  I  did,  why  some  one  didn't  invent 
the  electric  light  generations  ago.  It  all  seems  so  easy, 
so  simple.  Everything  seems  at  the  first  glance  to  be 
managed  011  the  topsy-turvy  plan.  For  example,  you 
find  all  the  coal  stored  on  the  floor  next  to  the  top.  It 
is  carried  there  from  the  receiving  hoppers  beneath  the 
sidewalk  on  an  endless  chain  to  which  steel  buckets  are 
attached.  The  operation  is  managed  so  delicately  that 
not  one  particle  of  annoying  coal  dust  escapes,  and  you 
know  nothing  about  it  until  somebody  tells  you.  The 
highest  floor  of  all  is  divided  into  offices.  From  the 
floor  below  the  coal  in  tiny  lumps,  called  "  buckwheat," 
descends  through  pipes  or  chutes  to  the  fourth  floor, 
where  it  is  automatically  weighed  in  100 -pound  lots. 


Here  you  find  nine  giant  Babcock  and  Wilcox  boilers, 
each  of  325  horse-power,  attached  to  furnaces  fed  night 
and  day  by  rugged  fellows,  who  handle  their  shovels  as 
accurately  and  nimbly  as  Buffalo  Bill  swings  his  rifle. 

The  steam  is  piped  down  to  the  first  floor,  where  it  is 
fed  to  five  mighty  triple-expansion  engines,  the  smallest 
of  600  and  the  largest  of  2500  horse-power.  Two  dyna- 
mos are  attached  to  each  engine.  The  largest  engine 
runs  two  dynamos,  each  of  800-kilo-Watt's-power,  or  6000 
amperes.  In  every -day  language,  each  dynamo  fur- 
nishes electric  current  enough  for  12,000  lamps,  each  of 
which  is  equivalent  to  16  candles.  These  are  the 
largest  dynamos  in  the  electric-lighting  business.  Let 
us  look  at  one  of  them.  Here  is  an  enormous  wheel  of 
brass,  as  tall  as  the  highest  locomotive  drivmg'-wheel  you 
ever  saw,  and  nearly  twice  as  thick.  As  it  whirls  around 
at  a  very  high  velocity,  a  series  of  fine  copper  brushes 
excite  it,  and  surrounding  magnetic  coils  aid  in  the  gen- 
erating of  the  electric  current  in  a  manner  that  scores  of 
writers  have  tried  and  failed  to  explain.  From  eacli  dy- 
namo the  current  is  conducted  to  the  switchboard — a 
complicated  frame  of  brass  rods  and  levers.  Meters 
register  its  volume  and  intensity. 

The  territory  lighted  from  this  plant  extends  from  the 
Battery  to  Eighth  Street,  and  the  same  wires  carry  cur- 
rent for  arc  and  incandescent  lamps.  By  a  system  of 
return  wires  and  indicators  the  operator  at  the  switch- 
board can  tell  at  a  glance  the  amount  and  intensity  of 
the  current  at  any  one  of  the  "feeder  pressure  wire  ter- 
minals." If  your  office,  say,  is  in  Eighth  Street,  the 
electrician  in  Duane  Street  can  tell  at  any  time  just  how 
much  current,  and  what  quality  of  current,  you  are  get- 
ting. He  knows,  therefore,  just  how  brightly  your  elec- 
tric lights  are  shining. 

The  cellar  of  the  Edison  building-  is  a  vast  network  of 
cables— groups  of  wires  covered  with  lead  wrappings. 
From  here  the  electricity  is  sent  out  in  a  hundred  differ- 
ent directions. 


374 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLT  ME  xvi. 


SNOW-SHOES    AND    SLEDGES.* 

BY     KIRK      MUXROE, 

ArxiIOR    OF    "  DOKYMATKS,"  "  K  AF  I'M  ATI  S,"   "  CAMPMATES,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER    JX. 
PHIL'S    ESKIMO     MILITIA. 

~I)HIL  and  Serge  dropped  very  easily  into  the  life  of  the 
JL  mission,  and  quickly  became  interested  in  its  work. 
The  missionary  had  always  found  more  or  less  trouble 
with  the  older  Indian  boys,  who  were  almost  ready  to 
take  their  place  in.  the  tribe  as  hunters,  and  so  felt  them- 
selves rather  above  going  to  school  with  the  children. 
When  Phil  learned  of  this  difficulty  he  conceived  a  plan 
for  overcoming  it,  which,  with  the  missionary's  consent, 
he  at  once  proceeded  to  put  into  execution.  It  was  no- 
thing more  nor  less  than  to  form  the  unruly  boys  into  a 
military  company.  He  had  been  an  officer  in  his  own 
school  company  at  New  London,  and  even  Serge  had  be- 
come fairly  well  drilled  during  the  year  he  spent  there. 

Phil  and  Serge  had  already  formed  the  acquaintance 
of  an  intelligent  young  Indian  named  Chitsah,  son  of 
Kurilla,  who  had  once  been  in  the  employ  of  an  Amer- 
ican exploring  party,  from  whom  he  had  gained  a  fail- 
knowledge  of  English. 

Through  Chitsah,  therefore,  Phil  issued  an  invitation 
to  all  the  Indian  lads  between  the  ages  of  twelve  and 
eighteen  to  meet  him  and  Serge  in  the  large  school-room, 
which  was  cleared  of  its  furniture  for  the  purpose  that 
very  evening,  as  he  wanted  to  teach  them  a  new  game. 
About  one  dozen  boys  accepted  this  invitation,  and  a  dis- 
reputable, slouchy-appearing  lot  they  were,  all  clad  in 
cast-off  or  well-worn  garments  of  civilization,  and  look- 
ing as  though  half  ashamed  of  being  there.  As  Phil 
afterwards  said,  he  expected  each  moment  to  see  them 
become  panic-stricken  and  make  a  break  for  the  door. 

By  the  aid  of  Serge  and  Chitsah,  who  acted  as  interpre- 
ters, Phil  explained  that  the  new  game  was  called  "sol- 
diers.'' He  said  that  all  who  wanted  to  join  his  company 
and  come  to  that  place  three  nights  of  the  week  for  drill, 
might  do  so,  provided  each  would  first  make  for  himself 
a  wooden  gun  like  the  one  he  had  prepared  that  day,  and 
which  he  now  showed  them.  After  awhile  they  would 
give  an  exhibition  drill  to  which  all  their  friends  should 
be  invited,  but  in  the  mean  time  everything  that  took 
place  at  their  meetings  was  to  be  kept  secret  from  out- 
siders. Then  the  young  drill-master  put  Serge  through 
the  manual  of  arms  and  a  few  marching  movements  to 
illustrate  his  meaning. 

The  boys  quickly  comprehended  the  idea,  and  were 
charmed  with  it.  Some  of  them  began  instinctively  to 
stand  straight  and  throw  back  their  shoulders  in  imita- 
tion of  Serge.  When  Phil  ranged  them  in  a  line,  toeing 
a  chalk  mark  drawn  across  the  floor,  and  then  stepping 
back  a  few  paces,  called  out  "'Tention!"  every  one  of 
them  assumed  an  attitude  bearing  some  resemblance  to 
that  of  a  soldier,  and  stood  motionless.  Then  Phil  pinned 
a  band  of  scarlet  cloth  about  the  left  sleeve  of  the  largest 
boy,  who  was  known  as  Big  Sidorka,  and  told  him  he 
iniifht  wear  it  for  one  week,  after  which  it  would  be 
given  to  whichever  one  of  the  company  the  others  should 
decide  to  be  the  best  drilled. 

The  next  evening  twenty  boys  appeared,  and  every 
one  brought  with  him  a  wooden  gun,  all  neatly,  and 
some  beautifully  made.  At  this  meeting  they  were  given 
their  permanent  positions  in  the  ranks,  taught  to  count 
"fours"  at  the  word  of  command,  to  hold  themselves 
erect,  to  "carry"  and  to  "shoulder"  arms.  They  were 
also  given  to  understand  that  the  company  was  now  full, 
and,  until  after  the  exhibition  drill,  no  more  members 

*  Begun  in  HARPER'S  YOONG  PEOPLE  No.  801. 


would  be  admitted.  This  at  once  gave  membership  a 
value  that  made  it  seem  very  desirable. 

On  this  occasion,  after  the  drill  was  over,  Serge  pro- 
duced a  number  of  illustrated  books  and  papers  contain- 
in  i;-  pictures  of  soldiers,  the  meaning  of  which  he  explain- 
ed with  such  success  as  to  fully  arouse  the  interest  of  his 
dusky  audience.  As  a  result  of  this  experiment  the  young 
Russo- American,  who  had  worked  so  bravely  for  his  own 
education,  found  himself  within  a  week  teaching  an  en- 
thusiastic reading  class,  in  which  every  member  of  Phil's 
military  company  was  a  willing  scholar. 

The  missionary  was  jubilant  over  these  successes,  and 
declared  that  with  a  dozen  such  helpers  as  Phil  and  Serge 
he  could  have  every  Indian  on  the  Yukon  in  school  with- 
in One  year. 

In  the  mean  time  our  lads  were  not  neglectful  of  their 
own  affairs.  With  every  able-bodied  Indian  procurable 
enlisted  in  the  work,  the  new  building  was  completed  by 
the  end  of  the  first  week,  and  for  some  days  the  Chi  mo' s 
crew  found  ample  occupation  in  furnishing  and  storing 
it.  Then,  too,  under  instructions  from  Serge.  Chitsah, 
or  Kurilla,  Phil  spent  every  spare  moment  of  daylight 
in  learning  the  art  of  snow-shoeing,  mastering  the  terri- 
ble Eskimo  whip,  and  acquiring  a  vocabulary  of  dog  lan- 
guage. 

He  got  many  a  tumble  on  his  snow-shoes,  and  took 
ludicrous  "  headers"  into  many  a  deep  drift,  where  he 
would  flounder  helplessly  until  rescued  by  some  of  the 
delighted  spectators  of  his  mishaps.  The  long'  whip,  too, 
tried  its  best  to  strangle  him  by  winding  in  snaky  coils 
about  his  neck,  or  to  tangle  itself  in  bewildering  coils 
around  his  legs.  As  for  his  vocabulary,  it  was  enough 
to  provoke  laughter  in  the  most  sedate  of  sledge  dogs, 
and  created  uproarious  mirth  among  the  human  occu- 
pants of  the  Indian  village.  In  spite  of  all  difficulties, 
Phil  persevered  with  unabated  energy,  until  gradually 
his  feet  and  the  snow-shoes  began  to  work  together.  He 
actually  succeeded  in  cracking  the  snakelike  whip  so  that 
the  sound  could  be  heard,  and  Kurilla's  fine  team  <>f 
bushy-tailed  dogs  began  to  prick  up  their  sharp  ears  un- 
derstandingly  when  he  addressed  them.  Many  a  spin  did 
he  have  on  the  river  behind  this  lively  team,  with  Kuril- 
la  running  beside  the  sled  and  cracking  his  mighty  whip 
until  its  reports  rattled  like  a  fire  of  musketry.  When 
at  length  Phil  was  allowed  to  run  with  the  sledge  instead 
of  occupying  it  as  passenger,  and  the  entire  control  of  the 
team  was  intrusted  to  him,  he  felt  prouder,  as  Jalap 
Coombs  used  to  say,  than  was  becoming  to  a  mere  mortal 
man. 

But  his  pride  was  quickly  humbled,  for  ere  they  had 
gone  a  mile  the  dogs  discovered  that  they  had  no  reason 
to  fear .  his  whip,  and  that  his  unintelligible  commands 
might  be  treated  with  contemptuous  indifference.  Sud- 
denly Musky,  the  leader,  who  had  a  grudge  of  long  stand- 
ing against  Amook,  one  of  the  big  steer-dogs,  turned  like 
a  flash  and  darted  furiously  at  his  enemy.  In  an  in- 
stant the  whole  team  was  rolling  in  a  confused  mass  of 
yelping,  snarling,  snapping,  and  biting  fur,  with  traces 
tangled  in  a  thousand  knots,  sledge  going  to  smash,  and 
pandemonium  reigning  generally. 

Phil  stood  by  in  helpless  consternation,  and  not  until 
Kurilla,  running  up  in  breathless  haste,  flung  himself 
bodily  into  the  melee,  did  he  have  the  faintest  hope  that 
any  dog  would  emerge  alive  from  that  savage  conflict. 

Another  time,  as  he  thought  he  was  meeting  with  com- 
plete success  in  driving  this  same  team,  and  was  thor- 
oughly enjoying'  a  ride  in  the  sledge,  the  dogs  suddenly 
stopped  short  and  refused  to  go  on.  They  sat  on  their 
haunches,  with  wagging  tails,  and  looked  at  Phil  with 
pleased  expressions,  as  though  rejoicing  over  the  dis- 
covery that  they  needn't  work  unless  they  chose.  And 
there  they  sat,  in  spite  of  all  their  driver's  efforts  to  move 
them,  until  he  was  in  despair,  when  with  equal  sudden- 


APKIL  2,  1895 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


375 


ness  they  sprang  up  and  clashed  away  home  with  the 
empty  sledge,  leaving  him  to  follow  on  foot  as  hest  he 
might. 

His  first  real  journey  by  dog  sledge  was  to  the  Eskimo 
village  of  Makagamoot,  fifteen  miles  down  the  river,  and 
was  taken  in  company  with  the  missionary,  who  was  ac- 
customed to  visit  this  place  once  a  month.  They  went 
in  two  sledges,  with  Chitsah  as  runner,  and  Phil  took 
with  him  a  small  lot  of  goods.  For  these  Gerald  Hamer 
wished  him  to  procure  several  suits  of  fur  clothing,  in 
making  which  the  Eskimos  greatly  excel  their  Indian 
neighbors. 

Makagamoot  was  a  much  more  thrifty  village  than  its 
next  neighbor,  though  at  first  sight  its  eight  or  ten  large 
houses  looked  only  like  so  many  great  inverted  bowls  or 
hillocks  of  snow. 

Phil  and  the  missionary  received  an  uproarious  wel- 
come, emphasized  by  a  great  firing  of  guns  at  this  quaint 
Eskimo  village,  and  were  conducted  to  the  kashga  or 
principal  building,  which  is  at  once  town-hall,  hotel,  bath- 
house, and  general  assembly-room  for  the  settlement,  as 
well  as  the  winter  residence  of  all  unmarried  men. 

So  great  was  the  heat  in  this  place,  so  stifling  its  at- 
mosphere, and  so  horrible  its  odors  that  poor  Phil  gasped 
for  breath  on  entering  it.  In  vain  did  he  attempt  to  par- 
take of  some  of  the  delicacies  pressed  upon  their  guests  by 
the  hospitable~natives.  Raw  seal's  liver,  strips  of  rein- 
deer fat,  dried  fish,  salmon  roe  that  had  been  kept  for 
many  weeks  in  a  hole  in  the  ground,  and  caribou  bones 
split  so  that  the  marrow  might  be  sucked  from  them,  suc- 
ceeded each  other  in  rapid  succession.  Phil  was  hungry, 
but  not  hungry  enough  for  any  of  these. 

Nor  could  he  force  himself  to  remain  in  that  terrible 
atmosphere  long  enough  to  witness  the  wedding  of  an 
Eskimo  girl  with  a  white  man,  a  Russian  ex-employe  of 
the  old  fur  company,  which  was  the  first  duty  the  mis- 
sionary was  called  upon  to  perform.  The  mortified  lad 
was  sorry  to  thus  disappoint  his  kind-hearted  and  well- 
meaning  entertainers;  but  there  was  no  help  for  it.  So 
with  swimming  head  and  uneasy  stomach  he  made  a 
break  for  the  place  of  exit. 

CHAPTER    X. 
A    SAD    ROMANCE    OF   THE    WILDERNESS. 

"  How  can  human  beings  endure  such  vile  disgusting 
smells?"  Phil  exclaimed,  as  the  missionary  rejoined  him, 
a  little  later,  outside. 

"They  are  not  vile  and  disgusting  to  them,"  laughed 
the  other.  "  If  noticed  at  all,  they  are  extremely  agree- 
able. You  must  remember  that  the  atmosphere  which 
you  find  so  unendurable  is  that  to  which  the  Eskimo  has 
always  been  accustomed.  As  soon  as  he  is  born  his  en- 
tire body  is  liberally  smeared  with  rancid  oil,  and  to  the 
day  of  his  death  this  coating  of  grease,  frequently  re- 
newed, affords  his  best  protection  against  cold  and 
wet. 

"A  whiff  of  cologne  will  make  him  ill,  and  flowers  that 
to  us  are  sweet-scented  are  to  him  unendurable.  Thus 
you  see  the  sense  of  smell,  like  all  other  senses,  can  be 
educated  to  adapt  itself  to  any  conditions,  and,  happily 
for  the  Eskimo,  he  finds  nothing  objectionable  in  the 
nauseous  odors  surrounding  him." 

"  That  is  so,"  reflected  Phil,  "  for  now  I  remember  that 
the  Aleuts  of  the  Pribyloff  Islands  could  not  understand 
what  I  meant  when  I  complained  of  the  awful  stench 
rising  from  the  decomposing  bodies  of  thousands  of  seals 
lying  at  their  very  doors." 

With  the  aid  of  the  missionary  and  Chitsah,  Phil  traded 
off  the  small  stock  of  goods  he  had  brought  with  him 
for  half  a  dozen  parkas,  or  outer  garments,  made 
from  reindeer  -  skin,  with  the  hair  still  attached,  as 
many  pairs  of  winter  boots,  and  a  number  of  other  arti- 


cles made  from  seal  skin.  Each  of  the  parkas  had  a  hood 
at  the  back,  which  could  be  drawn  up  over  the  head. 
The  edge  of  this  hood  was  trimmed  with  wolf-skin  taken 
from  the  back,  where  the  hair  is  longest.  When  the  hood 
is  in  use  these  long  hairs  surround  the  wearer's  face  with 
a  bristling  fringe  that  affords  a  surprising  amount  of  pro- 
tection from  driving  snow  and  icy  winds. 

The  tarbossa,  or  Eskimo  boots,  were  made  of  the  skin 
of  reindeer  legs  on  which  the  hair  is  short  and  stiff,  and 
were  provided  with  soles  of  seal-skin,  turned  up  over  toes 
and  heels,  where  they  are  gathered  in  little  puckers  t.hat 
the  native  women  chew  or  shape  with  their  teeth.  The 
upper  end  of  one  of  these  boots  is  tied  about  the  wearer's 
knee,  while  a  second  set  of  thongs  at  the  ankle  holds  it 
in  place  at  that  point. 

Besides  these  things,Phil  purchased  a  number  of  Eskimo 
wolf-traps,  the  cruel  ingenuity  and  extreme  simplicity  of 
which  exceeded  anything  of  the  kind  he  had  ever  seen. 
They  were  merely  bits  of  stiff  whalebone  about  one  foot 
long,  with  sharpened  points,  folded  into  the  smallest 
possible  compass,  and  confined  in  that  position  by  a  lash- 
ing of  sinew.  For  use  this  harmless-looking  affair  is 
thrust  into  a  piece  of  meat,  which  is  frozen  and  thrown 
down  on  the  snow.  Mr.  Wolf  swallows  meal,  trap  and 
all,  with  suc-h  relish  that  he  at  once  searches  for  another 
bit  just  like  it.  In  the  mean  time  the  trap  has  begun  its 
deadly  work  in  his  stomach.  Its  sinew  lashing  softens, 
weakens,  and  finally  breaks  under  the  steady  strain  of 
the  com  pressed  whalebone.  Thus  released  the  bone  springs 
into  its  original  shape,  thrusts  its  sharp  points  into  the 
wrilf's  vitals,  and  often  kills  him  instantly.  If  not  at 
once,  death  ensues  in  a  very  short  time,  and  when  the 
thrifty  Eskimo  cuts  up  his  wolf  he  generally  recovers  his 
trap  and  prepares  it  to  be  set  again. 

The  sledge-party  from  Aiivik  had  started  from  there 
before  daylight  of  that  morning  with  a  view  to  return- 
ing the  same  night.  So  as  soon  as  the  missionary  had 
visited  every  house  in  Makagamoot  and  Phil  had  con- 
cluded his  trading,  the  dogs,  "which  Chitsah  had  been 
obliged  to  guard  all  this  time  from  an  overwhelm- 
ing onslaught  by  their  Eskimo  cousins,  were  headed 
homeward,  and  the  return  journey  was  begun.  Chitsah 
drove  the  leading  sledge,  which  was  laden  with  the  sev- 
eral hundred  pounds  of  dried  fish  that  the  missionary 
had  received  as  a  wedding  fee,  the  missionary  drove  the 
other,  which  bore  Phil's  purchases,  and  the  Yankee  lad 
trudged  beside  him. 

"  Are  you  often  called  on  to  marry  two  people  of  dif- 
ferent races?"  asked  the  latter,  who  was  thinking  over 
the  events  of  their  recent  visit. 

"No,  not  often;  though  it  is  not  uncommon  for  white 
men,  who  have  become  permanent  settlers  in  the  coun- 
try, to  marry  native  women,  and  I  once  married  a  ('hi 
nese  man  to  an  Eskimo  girl.  My  strangest  experience  in 
that  line,  though,  was  gained  some  years  ago  when  I  first 
came  to  this  country.  Wishing  to  familiarize  myself 
with  the  entire  valley,  I  took  a  trip  on  the  Company's 
steamer  to  the  head  of  navigation.  We  stopped  to  trade 
at  every  Indian  camp,  and  at  one  of  these,  near  Fort 
Yukon,  a  couple  came  on  board  to  get  married.  The 
man  was  a  tall  good-looking  fellow,  but  a  full-blooded 
Cree  Indian  from  the  distant  interior.  His  companion 
was  also  in  Indian  costume;  but  the  moment  I  looked  at 
her  face  I  saw,  to  my  amazement,  that  she  was  a  white 
girl.  She  was  quite  young,  but  had  the  saddest  fan-  I 
think  I  ever  saw.  I  remonstrated  with  her  against  the 
step  she  proposed  to  take,  but  in  a  perfectly  calm  \ 
and  speaking  most  excellent  English,  though  with  a 
Scotch  accent,  she  assured  me  that  she  was  well  aware 
of  what  she  was  about  to  do,  and  that  it  was  her  firm  re- 
'  solve  to  marry  the  Indian  who  stood  beside  her.  They 
both  gave  the  name  of  McLeocl,  and  under  that  name 
I  married  them. 


376 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


'CAP'N    PHIL'S    FADDER    GONE    UP    RIVER!      YAAS,  HE    FADDER 


"  After  the  ceremony  was  over  she  told  me  her  story. 
It  seems  that,  in  spite  of  her  fair  skin,  she  was  a  half- 
breed  daughter  of  the  Scotch  factor  of  a  Hudson  Bay 
trading  post  and  his  Indian  wife.  When  she  was  thir- 
teen years  old  her  father  sent  her  to  Scotland  to  be  edu- 
cated. She  made  her  long  trip  by  canoe  and  sledge  from 
the  distant  post  where  she  was  born  to  York  Factory  on 
Hudson  Bay  in  safety,  and  there  took  passage  in  the 


bitter  words.  He  was  not  allowed  to 
see,  or  even  communicate  with,  the  girl, 
but  was  ordered  to  leave  the  country 
at  once. 

"There  was  nothing  to  do  but  obey. 
The  factor  was  also  the  only  magistrate 
of  a  vast  region,  and  ruled  it  with  a 
rod  of  iron.  None  could  dwell  within 
his  jurisdiction  without  his  knowledge, 
none  obtain  employment  without  his 
consent.  The  forts  held  all  the  neces- 
saries of  life,  and  none  could  be  pur- 
chased elsewhere.  A  band  of  Indians 
was  ordered  to  convey  the  unfortunate 
youth  several  hundreds  of  miles  away 
and  there  leave  him.  This  they  did, 
but  what  afterwards  became  of  him  I 
do  not  know. 

"By  some  means  the  girl  learned  of 
her  lover's  visit  to  the  fort,  of  his  harsh 
reception,  and  of  his  cruel  banishment. 
The  knowledge  broke  her  heart.  She 
became  dejected  and  miserable,  and 
spent  her  days  in  weeping.  At  this  her 
father  became  so  furious  that  he  sent 
for  the  man  to  whom  he  had  promised 
her  to  come  and  marry  her  at  once. 
He  furthermore  upbraided  his  daughter 
in  the  presence  of  all  the  employes  of  the 
fort,  and  said  such  cruel  things  about 
the  man  -she  loved  that,  declaring  she 
could  bear  it  110  longer,  she  ran  out, 
mounted  her  pony,  and  fled  to  her  mo- 
ther's tribe.  There  she  promised  to 
marry  a  young  Indian  who  had  long  ad- 
niired  her,  and  at  once  set  out  with  his 
family  for  the  Yukon,  where  they  hoped 
^^^^^  to  find  a  priest.  As  it  happened,  I  was 

the  first  whom  they  encountered,  and 
the  result  I  have  already  told." 

"What  became  of  them  after  that?"  asked  Phil,  who 
was  deeply  interested  in  this  sad  romance. 

"I  do  not  know.  They  dared  not  return  to  the  terri- 
tory governed  by  her  father,  and  the  last  I  heard  of  them 
they  were  living  by  themselves  somewhere  on  the  Upper 
Yukon,  where  the  man  was  making  a  precarious  liveli- 
hood by  trapping.  I  tried  to  induce  them  to  come  and 
make  their  home  at  the  mission;  but  poor  Ellen  McLeod 


Company's   annual    ship  for  London.      From  there   she     answered  that  she  should  never  again  dwell  among  peo- 


was  sent  to  Edinburgh,  where  for  five  years  she  lived 
with  relatives  and  attended  school.  Then  she  received  a 
note  of  recall  from  her  father,  and  was  obliged  to  retrace 


pie  of  her  father's  race." 

"Poor   girl!"   sighed   Phil,   who   had   a   very   tender 
heart  for  the  troubles  of  others.      "  I  wonder  if  we  should 


the  wearisome  journey  over  thousands  of  miles  of  sea  and     have  any  chance  of  meeting  them  if  we  took  our  trip  up 
wilderness  to  her  home  in  the  far  Northwest.      It  was     the  river?     By-the-way,  sir,  don't  you  think  Serge  and  I 


terrible  for  her  to  leave  the  dear  friends  and  pleasant  as- 
sociations of  so  many  years,  and  hardest  of  all  to  separate 
from  the  young  Scotchman  who  had  won  her  heart,  and 


might  be  trusted  to  make  that  trip  this  winter?" 

"I  should  not  care  to  advise  you  to  do  it,"  replied  the 
missionary,    "knowing'  its  dangers  as   I  do.     And   cer- 


Ler  promise  to  marry  him  as  soon  as  lie  should  come  to  tainly  you  could  not  go  without  Captain  Hamer's  con- 
claim  her  in  her  own  home.  While  she  returned  to  Hud-  sent,  for  you  would  require  a  more  expensive  outfit  than 
son  Bay  in  a  Company's  ship,  he  was  forced  to  travel  by  any  one  save  he  could  furnish." 


way  of  New  York  and  through  the  States. 

"  When  the  girl  reached  her  home  she  immediately  told 


"I  suppose  so,"  admitted  Phil,  ruefully;   "but  I  can't 
help  thinking  that  something  will  turn  up  to  make  it 


her  parents  of  her  engagement,  and  that  her  lover  was     seem  best  to  let  us  go." 
even  then  on  his  way  to  marry  her.     To  her  dismay  her          They  were  by  this  time  nearing  Anvik,  and  though  the 
father  flew  into  a  violent  rage,  informed  her  that  he  had     sun  had  long  since  set,  the  river  was  flooded  with  moon- 
already  selected  a  husband  for  her  in  the  person  of  one 
of  the  Company's  employes  stationed  at  Fort  Liard,  and 
declared  that  she  must  marry  him  at  once.     In  vain  did 
the  girl  plead  with  him  and  endeavor  to  change  his  cruel 
determination,  and  in  vain  did  the  mother  take  her  part. 
The  tyrannical  father  only  grew  the  more  obstinate,  and 
when,   after   months  of   weary  wanderings,"  the   Scotch 
lover  appeared  at  the  fort,  he  was  driven  from  it  with 


light.  All  at  once  a  dark  figure  darted  out  from  the 
shore,  and  came  running  toward  them.  As>it  drew  near, 
Kurilla's  well-known  voice  shouted,  breathlessly: 

"  Cap'n  Phil's  fadder  gone  up  river!  Yaas,  he  fadder!" 
"My   father!"  cried  Phil.      "It  can't  be.     You  must 
be  crazy,  for  my  father  is  thousands  of  miles  from  here." 
"  True,  all  same.     You  fadder,  yaas." 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


AUNT    SELINA'S     MISTAKE. 


BY  FLORENCE  HALLOWEI-L  HOYT. 


CHAPTER     III. 

morning-  following  the  discovery  of  the  loss  of  the 
JL  diamond  ring,  Miss  Selina  undertook  to  give  the  big 
ball  closet  on  the  second  floor  a  thorough  cleaning.  She 
had  intended  doing  it  for  some  time,  but  had  not  "got 
"round  to  it,"  as  she  expressed  it.  Now  she  was  glad  of 
something  to  do  that  would  occupy  her  mind,  for  she 
wanted  to  forget — if  she  could — for  a  time,  at  least,  the 
unpleasant  episode  of  the  previous  clay. 

Becky  had  stuck  steadily  to  her  assertion  that  she 
hadn't  seen  the  ring  since  the  day  of  her  arrival.  In 
vain  had  Miss  Selina  insisted  that  she  must  have  taken 
it;  that  there  could  be  no  doubt  whatever  about  the 
matter.  The  child  had  only  glared  at  her  furiously,  and 
stuck  to  her  assertion  of  innocence. 

Then  Grandma  French  had  taken  her  off  alone  into 
the  dim  and  solemn  parlor,  and,  kissing  her  tenderly,  had 
begged  her  to  be  Grandma's  own  dear,  good  little  girl, 
and  tell  where  she'd  hidden  Lida  Ann's  diamond  ring. 

'•  If  you'll  tell  pretty,  now,  an'  not  act  so  stubborn,  you 
shall  have  that  little  wax  peach  on  my  mantel,  V  there 
slia'n't  a  soul  ever  speak  a  word  more  to  you  'bout  the 
ring  long's  you  live,"  said  the  dear  old  lady,  putting  her 
arm  about  the  child's  shoulders. 

Becky's  anger  dissolved  under  the  kind  words  and  the 
tender  caress.  She  burst  into  tears,  and  covered  her  con- 
vulsed little  face  with  her  apron. 

"  I  never  teched  hit,  Graii'maw.  I  'ain't  never  laid 
eyes  on  it  sence  the  fust  day  I  come  hyah.  I  wisht  I 
did  hev  hit.  I'd  give  hit  to  yo'  quicker'n  scat." 

"  Well,  who  could  have  taken  it,  then,  Becky?" 

"  I  do'  know;  I  wisht  I  did,"  answered  Becky.  "An' 
I  wisht  yo'd  tell  Tobias  ter  gear  up  V  tek  me  on  back 
ter  the  mounting.  Old  Mis'  Twiller  she'd  lem  me  stay 
along  her  '11'  the  boys." 


Grandma  sighed. 

"I  don't  want  to  send  you  back,  Becky.  The  Twillers 
ain't  the  kind  of  folks  you  ought  to  live  with.  If  I  only 
knew  what  had  'come  of  that  diamond  ring!" 

"I  never  teched  hit.  I  ain't  no  liar, 'u' I  ain't  no 
thief.  My  mammy  she  raised  me  urp  ter — "  and  then 
the  tears  followed  so  fast,  and  the  sobs  tore  their  way  so 
gaspingly  from  the  overcharged  little  breast,  that  the  rest 
of  the  sentence  was  left  unfinished. 

Grandma  French  was  nonplussed.  "  I'm  beginning  to 
think  she  didn't  take  it,  after  all,  Selina," she  said,  after 
giving  an  account  of  the  interview  in  the  parlor. 

"I  expected  you  to  come 'round  to  sayin' that,"  an- 
swered her  daughter,  in.  a  voice  of  smothered  indignation. 
"You're  so  soft-hearted,  mother,  it's  a  wonder  you  ain't 
melted  clear  away  long  ago.  That  child  took  that  ring. 
There  ain't  nobody  else  could  have  took  it.  She  was 
just  mad  'cause  I  cut  her  hair  off,  '11'  she  wanted  to  take 
her  spite  out  on  Lidy  Ann.  You  let  me  'tend  to  her. 
We've  got  to  get  that  ring  back,  'n'  there's  only  one  way 
to  do  it— shut  her  up  till  she's  willin'  to  tell !" 

Grandma,  bewildered  and  wearied,  sighed  and  submit- 
ted. And  so  Becky  was  locked  up  in  the  spare  chamber, 
and  put  on  a  diet  of  bread  and  water. 

Dinah,  who  was  delegated  to  feed  the  little  prisoner, 
came  down  from  her  first  visit  to  the  spare  chamber  with 
an  account  of  her  reception  which  made  poor  old  Mrs. 
French  turn  pale. 

"She  done  frowed  de  brade  spong' in  my  face,"  said 
the  old  black  woman,  "  V  outn  de  winder  went  de  tin 
cup  of  water,  kersplash!  She's  jes  nachelly  bad,  dat 
chile  is.  De  Lawd  on'y  knows  whar  she's  gwinter  fotch 
up  'fo'  mawnin'.  She's  trompin'  roun'  now  like  she  was 
plumb  crazy.  Yo'-alls  come  outn  de  po'ch  'n'  see  dat 
busted  winder." 


THE    HOUNDS    SEEMED    GLAD    HELP    LIAD    COME. 


378 


HAMPER'S    YOUNG    PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


They  all  three  went  out  and  saw  the  broken  window. 
Grandma  French  was  too  much  grieved  and  shocked  to 
say  a  word;  but  it  was  rage  which  tied  the  tongue  of 
Miss  Selina. 

"  Whynt  yo'-alls  sen'  dat  chile  ter  de  po'  farm?  Dey'd 
tek  de  uppity  ways  outn  her  dar,"  said  Dinah.  "If  yo'- 
alls  spec  dat — 

"Oh,  for  the  land's  sake,  hush,  Dinah !"  interrupted 
Miss  Selina.  "You're  enough  to  drive  a  person  crazy. 
We  ain't  goin'  ter  send  the  child  away  till  we  get  that 
diamond  ring  back." 

"Yo'-alls  woon  nebah  see  Lidy  Ann's  di'niun'  ring  no 
moah  !"  rejoined  Dinah.  "  Yo'  res'  yo'  heart  on  dat." 

Miss  Selina  wondered,  as  she  dragged  things  out  of  the 
hall  closet,  whether  Becky  had  done  any  damage  in  the 
spare  chamber  other  than  breaking  the  window-glass. 
Once  she  crept  softly  to  the  door  and  listened.  She  heard 
a  low  pitiful  moaning  at  intervals,  and,  peeping  through 
the  keyhole,  saw  the  child  lying  on  the  floor,  her  face 
hidden  in  her  arms. 

Miss  Selina's  heart  softened  a  little.  She  felt  her  an- 
ger melt  away.  After  all,  the  child  had  some  good 
points.  She  seemed  affectionate,  was  unselfish,  and  very 
obliging.  She  never  pouted  or  made  an  excuse  when 
asked  to  go  on  an  errand. 

That  low  moaning  was  certainly  very  piteous. 

"  But  she  needn't  stay  in  there  no  longer  'n  she  has  a 
mind  to,"  muttered  Miss  Selina,  as  she  went  back  to  the 
closet.  "I'd  let  her  out  in  a  minute  if  she'd  tell  what 
she's  done  with  Lidy  Ann's  ring."  She  stood  looking  into 
the  closet  a  moment,  then  went  to  the  "head  of  the  back 
stairway.  "  Dinah,"  she  called,  "  you  come  up  here,  '11' 
bring  a  kitchen-chair  along  with  you.  I  want  to  get 
down  all  the  boxes  'fore  I  begin  to  clean." 

Dinah  came  groaning  up  with  the  chair.  "I  feels  po'- 
ly  dis  inawnin',"  she  complained.  "  I  cyan't  skercely 
tote  dis  lieah  chair.  I's  got  de  mis'ry  in  my  side." 

"Oh,  you're  always  feeling  poorly!"  rejoined  Miss  Se- 
lina, as  she  put  the  chair  in  the  closet  and  stepped  upon 
it.  "I've  got  so  used  to  your  grunting  and  groaning 
that  I  don't  pay  attention  to  it  any  more.  Stand  there, 
now,  'n'  take  these  boxes  as  I  hand  'em  down.  I  reckon 
we  can  burn  the  half  of  "em." 

The  misery  in  Dinah's  side  was  perhaps  accountable 
for  her  slow  obedience,  and  she  missed  receiving  the  first 
box  handed  down.  Crash!  it  went  to  the  floor,  and  the 
contents  were  scattered  in  every  direction. 

"For  goodness  sakes,  Dinah,  mind  what  you're 
about!"  scolded  Miss  Selina.  "  In  all  my  days  I  never 
saw —  What's  that  lyiii'  over  there  by  the  banisters? 
My  soul,  if  it  ain't  Lidy  Ann's  diamond  ring!" 

"Hit's  de  ring,  sho's  yo's  bawn!"  said  Dinah.  "Hit 
rolled  outn  dis  heah  box.  I  seen  hit  go  glitterin'  'long 
when  de  cover  done  bust  off." 

"Well,  it's  just  the  mercy  of  Providence  we  found  it! 
Now  what's  that  onery  child  goin'  to  say,  I'd  like  to 
know?  Of  course  she  thought  this  closet  'd  be  the  last 
place  we'd  ever  think  of  lookin'."  She  hurried  into  her 
mother's  room,  with  the  ring  in  her  hand,  shaking  with 
nervous  excitement.  "I  could  see  all  along  you  didn't 
quite  believe  Becky'd  took  it,  mother,"  she  said,  after  tell- 
ing where  the  ring  had  been  found.  "  I  reckon  you'll 
say  now  that  I  knew  what  I  was  talkin'  about." 

Poor  old  Mrs.  French  could  doubt  the  child's  guilt  no 
longer.  Together  she  and  Selina  went  to  the  spare 
chamber  and  unlocked  the  door. 

"Don't  be  too  hard  on  her,  Selina,"  whispered  the  old 
lady.  "Eemember,  she  warn't  raised  the  way  Lida  Ann 
was." 

Becky  was  still  lying  on  the  floor,  and  she  didn't  move 
when  the  door  was  opened.  Neither  did  she  answer 
when  Miss  Selina  spoke  to  her.  Miss  Selina  took  her  by 
one  arm  and  pulled  her  up.  The  child's  face  was  stained 


with  tears,  her  eyes  swollen  with  weeping.  She  looked 
exhausted.  Not  a  morsel  of  food  had  passed  her  lips 
since  breakfast  of  the  previous  day.  The  bed  was  not 
disturbed — evidence  sufficient  that  she  had  spent  the 
night  on  the  floor. 

"Here's  Lidy  Ann's  ring,  Becky,"  said  Miss  Selina, 
triumph  in  her  voice.  "I  suppose  you  won't  have  the 
face  now  to  say  you  didn't  take  it." 

Becky  lifted  her  heavy  eyes,  and  regarded  Miss  Selina 
dully.  Her  lips  moved  stiffly.  "I  never  teched  hit," 
she  repeated.  "I  never  sawn  hit  alter  that  fust  day  I 
come  hyah." 

"You  mean  to  say  you  didn't  put  it  in  that  box  in  the 
hall  closet?" 

"  I  never  put  hit  thar.  I  'ain't  never  teched  hit,"  an- 
swered the  child. 

Miss  Selina  stared  at  her. 

"  Well,"  she  exclaimed,  "  for  stubbornness  you  beat  all 
I  ever  see,  old's  I  am!  But  I  ain't  goin'  to  argue  with 
you.  We  know  you  stole  the  ring,  and  we  know  ivhy 
you  stole  it.  When  you  stopped  so  sudden  your  fightin' 
'bout  my  cuttin'  olf  your  hair  I  'lowed  you  was  un  to- 
somethiii'." 

"I  let  yo'  cut  hit  'cause  yo'  said  hit  pestered  her"- 
with  a  motion  of  her  head  toward  the  old  lady  in  the 
doorway — "to  keep  hit  cuyrled.  She's  been  the  on'yest 
one  in  this  hyah  house  what's  spoke  civil  ter  me. 
Yo'-alls  don'  Jurv  me,  'n'  you  don'  want  me  hyah. 
But  I  ain't  b'arin'  spite  ter  noan  o'  yo'.  I  never  teched 
Lida  Ann's  di'mund  ring." 

Miss  Selina  set  her  lips  and  said  no  more.  After  a 
moment  of  severe  scrutiny  of  the  little  culprit  she  went 
out,  pulling  her  mother  after  her. 

"The  next,  thing  you'd  be  kissin'  'n'  cryin'  over  her, 
mother,  if  I  let  you  stay,"  she  said,  as  she  closed  the 
door,  locked  it,  and  dropped  the  key  into  the  pocket  of 
her  apron.  "You  never  did  have  any  backbone  about 
children.  I  ain't  blamin'  you,  but  just  stating  the  plain 
fact.  Lida  Ann  would  'a'  been  spoiled  to  death  but  for 
me.  As  to  this  Becky,  I'm  goin'  to  send  Tobias  over  to- 
the  poor -farm  to  tell  Dug  Marsh  to  come  after  her. 
There's  no  use  talkin',  she's  goin'1.  I  ain't  goin'  to  have 
poor  little  Lidy  Ann  'sociatin'  with  girls  that  go  rouii' 
stealin'  diamond  rings." 

Nothing  more  was  done  to  the  hall  closet.  Miss  Selina 
said  she  didn't  have  the  heart  to  go  on  with  it,  and  she 
wouldn't  know  a  minute's  peace  till  that  child  was  out 
of  the  house. 

But  Becky  spared  her  the  ti'ouble  of  sending  her  away. 
When  Dinah  went  upstairs  at  noon  and  opened  the  door 
of  the  spare  chamber  she  found  it  unoccupied.  The  poor 
little  wild  bird  of  the  mountain  had  flown. 

"Got  outer  dat  busted  winder!"  said  Dinah.  "She 
done  took  de  sheets  offn  de  bade ;  en  dey's  hangiii'  outer 
de  winder  now,  all  twis'ed  up  like  she  done  mek  a  rope. 
It's  de  bawn  truf !  Yo'  gwiue  outu  de  po'ch  'n'  see  fo' 
yo'se'fs." 

"She's  gone  back  to  the  mountain  to  live  with  them 
Twillers,  I  reckon,"  said  Miss  Selina.  "  Lazy,  no-account 
set,  all  of  them.  Well,  they're  welcome  to  her,  dear 
knows.  Mother,  you  needn't  take  on  so.  You  know 
well's  I  do  that  this  house  has  been  all  tore  up  ever  since 
that  child  come  into  it.  We're  well  rid  of  her." 

"Poor  little  soul!"  sobbed  the  old  lady.  "I'm  afraid 
we  didn't  treat  her  just  right  someway,  Selina.  She 
was  a  soft-hearted  little  creetur,  for  all  she  was  so  fiery." 

CHAPTER    IV. 

WHEN  Tobias  was  sent  the  day  after  Becky's  flight  to 
bring  Lida  Ann  home  he  was  cautioned  to  say  nothing 
to  her  of  the  events  which  had  transpired  during  her  ab- 
sence. So  Lida  Ann's  first  question  after  greeting  her 
grandmother  and  aunt  was,  "Where's  Becky?" 


APRIL  2,  1895. 


HAMPER'S   YOUJMti  PEOPLE. 


37» 


Her  grandmother's  face  grew  solemn  at, once,  and  her 
hand  sought  her  handkerchief.  "Poor  little  Becky!" 
she  said.  "  She's  gone,  Licly  Ann.'' 

"  To  the  poor-house?" 

"  \Ve  don't  know  where  she's  gone,"  cut  in  MissSelina 
before  her  mother  could  answer.  "  But  you  won't  see 
her  here  again,  that's  certain.  She  isn't  the  kind  of  girl 
we  want  you  to  'sociate  with,  Lidy  Ann.  I  cut  her  hail- 
off  the  day  you  left,  'n'  she  tried  to  pay  me  oft'  by  takin' 
your  di'niond  ring  outer  mother's  jewel-box.  There,  now, 
you  needn't  to  turn  so  white!  We  found  it — ' 

"In  the  hall  closet — in  a  box,"  burst  out  Lida  Ann. 
"  Oh.  Aunt  Selina!  I  put  it  there  my  own  self." 

"  You  did;" 

"  Yes'm;  I — I  wanted  it  to  be  safe  while  I  was  gone," 
answered  Lida  Ann,  beginning  to  cry.  "I  was  afraid 
Becky  migh't  take  it.  Grandma  never  kept  the  dresser- 
drawer  locked.  I  didn't  reckon  she'd  miss  it  ;  'n'  I 
thought  that  box  in  the  hall  closet  was  a  good  place  to 
hide  it.  Oh!  oh!" 

MissSelina  sank  into  the  nearest  chair.  She  looked 
stunned.  "You'd  o  lighter  have  a  good  whippin',  miss," 
she  said  at  last,  when  she  had  recovered  sufficiently  to 
speak.  "We  kept  Becky  locked  up  in  the  spare  cham- 
ber for  the  best  part  o'  two  days,  'n'  she  didn't  have  no- 
thin'  to  eat  but  dry  bread." 

"And  she  cried  herself  sick,"  said  Grandma  French, 
down  whose  wrinkled  cheeks  the  tears  were  trickling-. 
"Lidy  Ann,  you'd  ought  to  go  down  on  your  bended 
knees  an'  ask  that  child's  pardon." 

"I  come  back  meanin'  to  do  better  by  her,"  sobbed 
Lida  Ann.  "  Grandma  Darrow  she  made  me  promise  I 
would.  An'  I  brought  her  a  pair  of  doves.  They're  out 
in  the  wagon  now." 

"Doves!"  cried  Miss  Selina,  sniffing.  "I  reckon  a 
pair  o'  doves  ain't  goin'  to  make  up  to  Becky  for  all  she 
went  through  about  your  diamond  ring." 

"We  must  get  her  back,  Selina,"  said  her  mother.  "  I 
wonder  if  the  good  Lord's  goin'  to  forgive  us  for  all  we 
made  that  poor  little  creetur  suffer." 

"Don't,  mother,"  said  Miss  Seliiia.  "I'm 'most  sick 
over  it  as  'tis.  Lidy  Ann,  you  go  out  'n'  tell  Tobias  to 
put  the  horse  right  back  in  the  shafts.  'N'  he's  got  to 
drive;  he  knows  where  them  Twillers  lives." 

"Can't  I  go  along?"  asked  Lida  Ann.  "I  want  to 
tell  her  about  the  doves." 

"Yes,  you  c'n  go.  Mother,  you  ain't  goin';  that 
mount'n  road's  too  rough." 

"I  don't  care — I'm  goin',"  answered  the  old  lady. 
"  We've  got  to  start  right  with  Rebecca  this  time,  Selina. 
Poor  little  soul!  She  sha'n't  say  again  that  none  of  us 
love  her." 

Within  fifteen  minutes  they  were  on  their  way  to  the 
mountain.  There  was  a  rough  ascent  of  half  a  mile  be- 
fore the  Twillers'  cabin  was  readied.  It  was  a  rough 
forlorn-looking  structure,  with  a  door-yard  littered  with 
trash  of  every  kind.  It  was  surrounded  by  a  rail-fence, 
over  which  half  a  dozen  hounds  sprang,  barking  and 
whining  as  the  wagon  stopped.  A  woman  dressed  in 
homespun,  with  a  short-stemmed  clay  pipe  in  her  mouth, 
came  to  the  open  door.  She  wore  a  black  calico  sun- 
bonnet,  and  her  feet  were  bare.  Over  one  arm  hung  a 
patch-work  bedspread  of  the  pattern  known  as  "rising 
sun." 

"Morniu',  lady,"  called  out  Tobias. 

"  Morniu'  yo'se'f,stranger," rejoined  the  lady.  "  Won't 
yo'-alls  'light  'n'  come  in?  You,  Tige,  stop  thet  barkin'! 
They  won't,  noaii  o'  'em,  tech  yo',  strangers." 

"  We've  come  to  see  if  Becky's  here,"  said  Miss  Selina. 

"  Becky?  No,  I  'ain't  sawn  her."  The  woman  came 
out  to  the  fence  and  leaned  upon  it,  cuffing  at  the  dogs. 
"I  reckon  yo'-alls  the  folks  she  went  ter  live  with  down 
ter  Fairville?" 


"  Yes,"  answered  Miss  Selina,  "  and  she  ran  away  yes- 
terday. We  reckoned  she'd  be  here." 

"  No;  we;uns  'ain't  sawn  her.  I  reckon  she's  over  .ter 
her  house  ef  she's  on  the  mounting  at  tall." 

"  Where  is  her  house?" 

"  Down  nigh  the  cove.  Yo'  can't  miss  hit  ef  yo'  keeps 
along  this  hyah.  road.  I  reckon  she's  thai-.  I 'ain't  sawn 
them  two  houii's  o'  hern  this  niornin'.  I  reckon  she 
towed  of  'em  buck  'ithoutn  we-uns  knowin'  of  hit.  I'd  go 
'long  o'  yo',  but  thai1  hain't  no  one  hyah  but  me,  'n'  I'm 
b'iliii'  enyuins  'n'  greeus.  Ef  yo'-all's  a  mind  ter  light 
'n'  strip  yo'  hats  I'll  make  yo'  welcome  till  pap  'n'  the 
boys  come." 

"  Oh,  thank  you ;  but  I  reckon  we  can  find  the  place," 
said  Miss  Selina,  and  Tobias  drove  on. 

The  cabin  in  which  Becky  had  lived  was  smaller  than 
that  occupied  by  the  Twillers.  It  stood  close  to  the  road 
at  the  foot  of  a  little  hill.  There  were  two  small  rooms, 
divided  by  an  open  porch.  It  had  a  desolate  look,  with 
the  tall  pines  about  it,  and  there  was  no  sign  of  life. 

But  the  door  of  one  of  the  rooms  stood  open,  and  Miss 
Selina  stepped  up  on  the  porch  and  looked  in.  She  stood 
there  a  moment  without  moving;  then  she  turned  her 
head  and  nodded  to  her  mother.  "  She's  here,"  she 
called.  Then  she  disappeared  within  the  room. 

When  old  Mrs.  French  and  Lida  Ann  followed  they 
found  her  sitting  on  the  floor,  Becky's  head  in  her  lap. 
Two  yellow  and  black  hounds  were  lying  close  by.  They 
wagged  their  tails  and  whined,  looking  affectionately  at 
Miss  Selina.  They  seemed  glad  help  had  come. 

Becky  was  moving  her  head  from  one  side  to  the 
other,  muttering  and  whispering  incoherently;  her  cheeks 
were  scarlet  with  fever;  her  bright  dark  eyes  gazed  with- 
out recognition  into  the  faces  of  those  around  her. 

Lida  Ann  began  to  cry. 

"Hush  up,  now,"  said  her  aunt.  "There's  no  sense 
in  cry  in'.  We've  got  to  get  her  home  quick's  we  can.  I 
reckon  I  c'u  carry  her." 

She  lifted  the  child  and  walked  slowly  out  to  the 
wagon,  the  heavy  little  head  lying  on  her  shoulder,  the 
whispering  lips  close  to  her  ear,  the  hot  cheek  pressing 
her  own  faded  one.  The  hounds  followed,  watching  her 
every  movement  jealously. 

"  Wliut  yo'  g winter  do  'bout  dese  heah  houn's?"  asked 
Tobias. 

"Oh,  they'll  go  on  back  to  Twiller's,  I  reckon,"  an- 
swered Miss  Selina.  ' '  I  'ain't  got  time  now  to  think  o' 
houn's.'" 

"Oh,  Aunt  Selina,  can't  we  take  'em  along?"  begged 
Lida  Ann.  "Becky  'd  be  so  glad  to  have  'em;  V  we 
'ain't  got  any  dogs,  you  know." 

"  Well,  I  'ain't  any  objection.      Lift  'em  in,  Tobias." 

And  Tobias  obeyed,  well  pleased.  Miss  Selina's  an- 
tipathy to  dogs  heretofore  had  been  a  great  cross  to  him. 
Long  afterwards  Miss  Selina  told  her  mother  that  it  was 
during  that  long  drive  down  the  mountain,  when  her 
arms  ached  with  their  heavy  burden  and  the  scarlet  lips 
never  ceased  that  low  whispering  in  her  ear,  that  she  be- 
gan to  love  poor  little  Becky. 

She  was  a  kind  and  tender  nurse  during  the  long  ill- 
ness which  reduced  the  poor  child  to  a  shadow  of  her 
former  self,  and  she  actually  shed  tears  of  joy  and  relief 
when  Becky  was  pronounced  out  of  danger. 

As  for  Lida  Ann,  there  was  nothing  she  wasn't  ready 
to  do  for  Becky.  She  sat  by  the  bedside  during  Becky's 
convalescence  for  hours  at  a  time,  read  aloud  every 
story-book  she  possessed,  cut  out  paper  dolls,  made  neck- 
laces of  melon  seeds,  and  drew  crude  pictures  on  a  slate. 
Her  best  doll  was  turned  over  to  Becky,  and  she  made  no 
complaint  when  her  precious  music-box,  the  gift  of  Cousin 
Nathan,  was  broken  by  a  fall  from  the  bed. 

"It  c'n  be  mended  real  easy,"  she  said,  cheerfuMy. 
"  Anyway,  Becky,  you  weren't  to  blame  for  its  fallin'  oil'." 


380 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


"  I  pushed  bit  'thout  seem'  hit  war  thar,"  said  Becky. 

"  Well,  I  ought  to  have  looked  out  for  it  better." 

"  Yo's  mighty  good  ter  me  now,  Lidy  Ann.''  And 
Becky  smiled,  her  wasted  little  band  laid  on  Lida  Ann's 
arm.  "I  reckon  yo'  won't  keer  now  when  Gran'maw 
says  I'm  yo'  little  sister." 

Lida  Ann  answered  with  a  hug  and  a  tender  kiss. 

"Lida  Ann  ain't  like  the  same  girl,"  Miss  Selina  said 
frequently.  "I've  'most  forgot  she  ever  had  any  mean 
ways." 

"I  reckon  we  '  builded  better'n  we  knew'  when  we 
took  Becky,"  Grandma  said.  "  An'  if  she  ain't  a  dear, 
sweet  child,  then  there  never  was  one." 

Becky  was  almost  as  strong  and  well  as  ever  by 
September,  and  entered  on  her  first  term  at  the  county 
school.  She  was  so  bright  that  she  soon  learned  to 
correct  all  her  most  glaring  errors  of  speech,  and  her 
vivacity,  unselfishness,  and  beauty  made  her  a  general 
favorite.  Her  hair  was  never  cut  again ;  and  by  the  time 
it  had  grown  long  enough  to  be  troublesome  she  was 
competent  to  take  care  of  it  herself. 

"  Hit  look  lak  dem  gals  is  jes  iiatchelly  wropped  up  in 
one  ernudder,"  observed  Dinah,  one  morning,  as  she 
stood  at  the  kitchen  door  and  watched  Lida  Ann  and 
Becky  walk  off  to  school  swinging  their  lunch-basket 
between  them.  "Mighty  lucky  thing  dat  di'mun'  ring 
was  done  losted  dat  time." 

"Hush!"  said  Miss  Selina.  "Don't  you  never  men- 
tion Lidy  Ann's  di'mund  ring  again  long's  you  live.  I 
can't  endure  even  to  think  of  it." 


A  SEA   EPISODE. 

(The  chief  points  in  the  following  short  narrative  are  true.) 

I  WAS  second  officer  on  board  the  Xanthe,  one  of  the 
swiftest  ocean  greyhounds  of  the  day — a  steamer  of 
some  eight  thousand  tons,  and  a  popular  boat. 

We  had  had  a  calm  and  uneventful  voyage  from 
<J>ueeustown,  and  were  making  for  the  port  of  New  York 
on  a  starry  but  dark  night  when  I  paced  the  deck  with 
my  Captain  and  the  third  officer,  looking  forward  to  a 
short  but  pleasant  spell  on  land. 

As  seven  bells  rang  the  Captain  turned  in  for  the  night, 
and  shortly  after  the  third  officer  retired,  leaving  me  alone 
to  pace  up  and  down  the  bridge. 

Eight  bells  sounded  and  the  watch  changed,  I  remain- 
ing on  the  bridge,  as  agreed. 

I  rang  two  bells,  and  very  soon  heard  the  answering- 
ring  of  the  great  fore -bell,  followed  by  the  "All's 
well,"  repeated  twice  by  the  watch.  Hardly  had  the 
sound  died  out  when  there  came  a  thud,  and  the  huge 
boat  staggered  for  a  moment.  The  watch  gave  me  the 
alarm,  and  I  ordered  some  men  forward  to  examine  the 
bow.  So  slight,  however,  had  been  the  shock  that  neither 
the  Captain,  the  passengers,  nor  the  off  watches  had 
awakened.  Fearing  we  had  run  down  some  small  craft, 
we  put  back — for  our  impetus  had  carried  us  nearly  half 
a  mile — to  rescue  any  one  who  might  need  succor.  We 
saw  nothing,  however,  by  which  to  guess  the  nature  of 
the  object  with  which  we  had  collided,  and  for  safety  I 
called  the  joiner  and  ordered  him  to  examine  the  holds. 
He  soon  returned,  and  reported  "  Number  one,  3  inches; 
number  two,  5  inches;  number  three,  2  inches." 

"You  are  certain?"  I  said. 

"  Shure,  sur." 

"  Very  well,"  I  answered.  "  Now  go  back  again ;  mea- 
sure again,  and  write  it  down  on  a  chip  of  wood  if  you 
have  no  paper." 

"Ay,  sur,"  replied  the  joiner,  a  true  Irishman. 

While  he  was  gone  I  leant  over  the  rail  and  looked  at 
the  seething  water,  for  we  were  speeding  on  at  our  usual 
rate.  As  I  looked  the  water  seemed  nearer  than  usual ; 


this  made  me  a  little  anxious,  but  I  knew  it  might  well 
be  fancy.  As  I  imagined  this,  I  saw  the  joiner  returning 
in  the  dark,  and  behind  him  two  men  bearing  a  log. 

"  What's  the  meaning  of  this?"  I  asked,  astonished. 

"Shure,  sur,  it  wur  the  smallest  chip  I  cud  git,  sur." 

"  What  do  you  make  it?" 

"Number  one,  3  inches;  number  two,  5  inches;  num- 
ber three,  2  inches." 

I  felt  relieved  at  this,  and  passed  over  the  Irishman's 
joke,  for  which  I  might  have  reprimanded  him  under 
other  circumstances. 

As  I  again  looked  at  the  water  I  thought  a  second  time 
that  it  was  nearer.  I  called  the  joiner,  and  told  him  I 
would  myself  examine  the  holds,  and  that  he  must  go 
with  me,  for  I  was  beginning  to  feel  uneasy.  Taking 
the  measure,  we  went  to  my  own  cabin,  through  the  floor 
of  which  the  second  hold  was  reached  through  a  plug. 

I  smoke  a  great  deal  even  on  board  ship,  and  have  a 
habit  of  throwing  unused  matches  when  thoroughly  ex- 
tinguished on  the  lloor.  Any  one  in  lifting  the  carpet 
to  get  at  the  plug  must  have  rolled  the  matches  to  one 
side,  and  left  them  lying  almost  in  a  straight  line.  What 
was  my  surprise  to  see  them  scattered  about  just  as  I  had 
thrown  them  down. 

The  sweat  broke  out  on  my  brow  as  I  turned  angrily 
on  the  joiner,  and  cried,  "You  scoundrel,  you  never 
measured  them !" 

Tearing  up  the  carpet  I  started  to  unscrew  the  plug, 
but  had  only  half  succeeded  when  the  head  shot  up,  graz- 
ing my  face,  and  a  stream  of  water  squirted  up  to  the 
ceiling.  The  hold  was  overflowing! 

It  took  only  a  few  seconds  to  turn  out  all  hands  and 
order  both  port  and  starboard  boats  to  be  manned ;  a  few 
more  to  wake  the  Captain  and  order  the  steamer  turned 
to  the  shore  full  speed  ahead. 

The  Captain  hurried  out  pale  and  somewhat  agitated, 
and  exclaimed,  testily,  when  I  had  explained  all  in  a  few 
words,  "  Why  didn't  you  wake  me  before?" 

At  this  point  the  engineer  came  up  on  to  the  deck,  and 
turning  to  the  Captain,  said,  coolly:  "Shall  I  stop  the 
engines,  sir,  or  put  on  full  speed  ahead?  In  another  ten 
minutes  the  ship  will  be  full  of  water  and  will  blow  up. 
The  iron  pegs  in  the  walls  of  the  engine-room  are  being 
pressed  out  of  the  walls,  and  I've  got  two  men  hammer- 
ing them  in  again  as  fast  as  they  can." 

Though  the  engineer  was  composed,  I  saw  the  Captain 
turn  livid,  and  as  he  hurried  to  his  cabin,  having  ordered 
full  speed,  the  ship  plunged  heavily  as  though  water- 
logged. 

I  quickly  sent  orders  down  to  the  passengers,  and  the 
stewardesses  were  sent  to  rouse  and  calm  the  women. 

All  this  took  but  a  few  minutes,  and  presently  the 
Captain  reappeared,  and  there  was  a  cold  deadly  look 
in  his  eyes.  As  he  approached  lie  suddenly  raised  his 
arm,  and  I  found  myself  gazing  down  the  barrel  of  a 
revolver  shining  in  the  moon's  rays. 

"  Barton,"  he  said,  "  you  know  what  this  means  to  us. 
The  ship  is  doomed  and  lost;  we  had  better  both  die; 
first  you,  then  I." 

I  had  fought  in  the  civil  war  of  1862.  I  was  present 
at  the  bombardment  of  Alexandria,  and  I  had  once  been 
forced  to  challenge  one  of  the  finest  fencers  in  the  Italian 
army  to  fists  or  ship's  cutlasses  in  a  barn — a  challenge  he 
repudiated,  preferring  to  run  me  through  with  a  sickly 
rapier;  but  never  in  my  life  did  I  feel  such  sensations  as 
I  did  that  awful  minute  when  I  saw  the  wild,  perhaps 
insane,  eyes  of  the  Captain  looking  into  mine.  With  a 
great  effort  I  composed  myself,  and  then  burst  forth  into 
such  a  persuasive  oration  that  my  superior  officer  replaced 
the  revolver  in  his  pocket,  and  turning,  watched  the  bow 
as  it  lifted  and  fell  heavily.  Then  came  my  chance, 
and  my  shortness  of  stature  helped  me.  Sneaking  up 
behind  him,  with  a  quick  movement  I  drew  the  revolver 


APRIL  2,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


381 


from  his  pocket,  and  jumped  back,  saying,  "Now,  Cap- 
tain, I  am  not  going  to  die  just  yet,  nor  you  either." 

Meantime  the  boats  were  ready,  and  taking  an  anxious 
look  into  the  darkness  towards  the  coast,  I  hurried  down 
the  companion  way  to  see  that  all  the  passengers  were  011 
deck.  One  old  lady,  a  Mrs.  Vetter,  about  seventy  years 
of  age,  was  the  only  one  below,  and  wrapping  a  cloak 
around  her  I  left  her  in  the  passageway,  telling  her  to 
wait  till  I  returned,  assuring  her  that  1  would  do  so. 
Soon  I  finished  the  round  of  my  search,  and  hurried  on 
deck,  forgetful  in  the  excitement  of  Mrs.  Vetter. 

The  boats  were  manned,  and  I  heard  the  Captain — now 
much  calmer — ordering  the  officers  to  shoot  the  first  man 
that  got  in.  "Women  and  children  first." 

Then  I  saw  a  huge  stoker  spring  into  a  boat,  seize  a 
woman,  throw  her  out  on  to  the  deck,  and  take  her  place. 
Then  followed  a 
scene  which  is 
deeply  embedded 
in  my  memory 
— a  scene  ghastly 
and  terrible.  The 
woman,  as  she 
fell  to  the  deck, 
screamed  to  hea- 
ven for  help,  and 
the  young  officer 
commanding  the 
boat  saw  and 
heard.  Turning 
on  the  man  he 
ordered  him  out 
of  the  boat.  The 
stoker,  a  powerful 
fellow,  refused  to 
go ;  the  officer 
had  no  revolver, 
but  by  his  side 
was  a  fire  -  axe ; 
this  he  seized,  and 
brandishing  it 
over  the  fellow's 
head,  ordered  him 
a  second  and  a 
third  time  to  get 
out,  but  the  stoker 
only  grinned  and 
said,  sneeringly : 

"  Yer  would, 
would  yer  ?  I 
knows  that  yer 
darn't." 

Then  an  awful 
look  came  into 
the  young  officer's 

face,  and  the  moonbeams  danced  on  the  steel  axehead  as  it 
descended  and  crashed  through  the  skull  under  it. 

Then  all  was  ready,  when  I  gave  an  exclamation  of 
horror;  the  ship  was  plunging-  heavily  in  her  last  agony, 
and  I  had  forgotten  old  Mrs.  Vetter.  Some  of  the  boats 
were  already  in  the  water  when  I  dashed  down  the  com- 
panion way  in  the  darkness.  She  was  gone.  I  searched, 
but  in  vain.  Then  coming  on  deck,  I  leant  half  paralyzed 
against  an  empty  boat,  one  that  had  got  jammed  and  was 
not  being  taken.  Then  I  felt  a  stinging  slap  in  the  face, 
and  heard  a  weak  voice — "You  go  away,  this  big  boat's 
mine."  It  was  Mrs.  Vetter;  poor  old  lady,  in  her  sim- 
plicity she  had  crawled  on  deck  and  got  into  the  only 
boat  that  was  certain  to  go  down. 

I  gave  a  cry  of  joy  as  I  seized  her  and  placed  her  and 
myself  safely  in  a  boat. 

In  twenty  or  twenty-five  minutes  we  were  all  on  land, 
all  except  the  stoker.  T.  S.  J. 


HOW    DO    YOU    LIKE    US,   JIMMIEBOY  ?"    ASKED    THE    LION 


JIMMIEBOY  AXD   THE   ANIMALS. 

BY  JOHN  KENDRICK  BANGS. 

If  was  uight  ami  tlie  Zoo  was  closed.  lu  the  centre  of  the 
large  tent  iu  which  the  animals  lived  a  single  electric  light 
burned  dimly, casting  weird  shadows  over  the  cages  of  the  aui- 
iniils  now  resting  after  a  hard  day's  work.  How  small  Jimmie- 
boy  had  managed  to  get  there  nobody  knows — not  even  he  him- 
self, nor  is  he  to-day  exactly  able  to  make  up  his  mind  as  to  liow 
he  ever  managed  to  escape.  At  any  rate  he  was  there  alone,  audr 
strange  to  say,  he  felt  very  much  at  home.  The  animals,  tierce 
as  they  were,  frightened  him  not  at  all,  and  he  patted  the  huge 
lion  on  his  head,  and  poked  his  fingers  into  the  leopard's  spots 
just  as  though  they  were  a  couple  of  kittens,  and  they  smiled 
benignly  upon  him. 

"  How  do  you  like  us,  Jimmieboy  ?"  asked  the  Lion,  looking  at 
him  affectionately  out  of  his  great  big  eyes.  "Don't  you  think 
we  are  altogether  the  h'uest  collection  of  animals  you  ever  saw  V 

"  Yes,  indeed," 
said  Jimmieboy. 
"You  are  even  finer 
than  the  pictures  of 
you  out  on  the 
fences,  and  I  never 
expected  you'd  be 
that." 

"  Well  it's  pretty 
hard  to  live  up  to- 
those  pictures,"  said 
the  .Bear  with  a 
yawn  that  gave  Jim- 
mieboy au  idea  of 
how  easy  it  would 
be  for  a  bear  to 
swallow  a  man  at 
one  gulp.  "There's- 
oue  picture  of  me 
particularly  that  I 
wish  they  would) 
take  in.  You  know 
it,  I  guess  —  the  one- 
where  I'm  shown 
up  as  squeezing 
three  men,  a  boyr 
four  guns,  and  a 
bowie  -  knife  to 

death.  I  don't  like 
that  picture,  and  I 
nevrr  did.  I  ilou't 
remember  ever  to- 
have  squeezed  more 
thau  two  ineu  and  a 
boy  at  one  time,  and 
wheu  people  come 
in  here  expecting  to 
see  me  hugging 
three  men  and  a  boy,. 
and  don't,  they  are- 
disappointed  with 
me.  As  the  Hyena — 
who  always  laughs 
at  his  own  jokes — would  say  '  they  can't  bear  me.'  " 

"  They  dou't  give  you  enough  meu  for  it,  auyhow,  do  they  I" 
asked  the  Monkey. 

"No,"  returned  the  Bear.    "But  the  people  dou't  know  that." 
"  Why  dou't  you  tell  them  ?"  asked  Jimmieboy.    "•Theii  they'd* 
know." 

"It's  against  the  rules  for  the  animals  to  talk  to  the  audi- 
ence," said  the  Bear  with  a  sigh.  "Otherwise  I'd  do  it." 

"  Where  was  the  Giraffe  to-day  ?"  asked  the  Leopard,  saunter- 
ing up.  "I  didn't  see  him  anywhere." 

"He's  got  a  sore  throat,"  replied  the  Zebra,  who  is  a  great 
crony  of  the  Giraffe. 

"Dear  me — much  of  a  oue?"  asked  the  Elephant. 
'•  Yes — I  guess  he  must  have  five  yards  of  it,"  said  the  £ebra. 
"How  it  must  hurt  him  to  swallow," observed  Jimmieboy. 
"It  does,"  said  the  Zebra.     "He  can't  swallow  anything,  nut 
even  fairy  stories  or  his  youth,  aud  lie  is  so  weak  that  he  has  to 
rest  his  neck  on  crutches  all  the  time." 

"Poor  fellow, "said  Jimmieboy, "how  he  must  suffer." 
"Dreadfully  —  particularly    from    disappointment.'"  said    the 


382 


HAEPEK'S    YOUNG    PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVL 


Zebra.     "He  was  going  to  sing  at  the  Zoo  concert  next  week, 
but  now  be  can't." 

••  lines  the  Giraffe  sing  ?"  queried  Jinmiieboy,  amazed  to  hear 
what  the  Zebra  had  just  said. 

"Does  he  ?"  ejaculated  the  Zebra.  "  Well,  rather.  Beauti- 
fully. Why,  the  Kangaroo,  who  is  a  good  deal  of  a  poet  in  his 
u. i \.oncc  wrote,  a  poem  to  the  Giraffe  on  the  subject  of  his 
voice.  Haven't  you  heard  n  .'" 

"No,"  said  Jimmieboy.      "  But  I'd  like  to  hear  it." 
"It  was  called,  '  To  a  Musical  Giraffe,'  and  it  went  this  v\  ,-n  ." 
said  the  Zebra: 

"When  mv  old  friend   Giraffe   begins 

To  exercise  his  thrn:it, 
It  knocks  me  off  my  nether  pins 

To  hear  one  single  note. 
And  when  he  finishes  his  song, 

Xo  matter  what  the  tune — 
However  short,  however  long — 
His  audiences  swunn." 

"  What  kiud  of  a  yoice  is  it  ?"  queried  Jimmieboy.     "Bass  or 


"Both, "said  the  Zebra.  "That's  the  wonderful  thing  about 
it.  The  length  of  his  throat  gives  him  a  tremendously  long 
voice.  I  guess  be  must  have  seventeen  octaves  in  it.  He  can 
go  four  inches  lower  than  the  basest  note  ou  the  hand-organ, 
and  when  he  gets  to  high  notes,  you'd  think  to  hear  him  he  was 
up  in  a  balloon.  I  heard  him  sing  a  duet  with  himself  once, 
and  really  I  was  so  overcome  I  couldn't  stand  on  oue  foot  for 
two  weeks.  It  was  magnificent." 

"  By-the-way,  Zebe,"  said  the  Lion, "you  looked  mighty  \\ell 
at  the  masquerade  ball  the  other  night." 

"  Yes,"  returned  the  Zebra,  with  a  satisfied  smile.  "I  think 
that  was  a  great  scheme  of  mine,  don't  yon  .'" 

"First-rate," said  the  Lion.  "  I  knew  what  you  meant  to  rep- 
resent the  minute  I  saw  you." 

"So  did  I,"  said  the  Bear.  "Only  I  think  you  should  have 
had  a  tennis-racket  to  carry  out  tbe,  effect." 

"What  had  the  tennis-racket  to  do  with  it?"  asked  the  Ze- 
bra. 

"That's  what  I  waut  to  hear,"  said  the  Lion. 

"  You  meaut  to  appear  as  tennis-player — you  had  the  striped 
blazer  ou,"  explained  the  Bear. 

"How  stupid  he  is,"  said  the  Lion.  "Tennis  -  player !  He 
wasn't  a  tennis-player  at  all." 

"  Of  course  I  wasn't,"  said  the  Zebra. 

••Anybody  could  see  you  meant  to  be  a  piece  of  toast,"  said 
the  Liou. 

"A  what?"  shrieked  the  Zebra. 

"  A  piece  of  toast ;  you  looked  it  too,  Zebe." 

"I  did  nothing  of  the  sort," retorted  the  Zebra,  angrily.  "I 
meant  to  be  an  American  flag.  Didu't  you  see  the  blue  hat  I 
had  ou  with  stars  ou  it?" 

Here  the  Hyena  laughed,  aud  tbe  Zebra  walked  away  in  a 
huff. 

"  You  have  very  deeply  offended  him,"  said  the  Leopard.  "  He 
hates  to  be  told  that  he  looks  like  a  piece  of  toast  or  a,  blazer, 
because  he  heard  the  clown  say  once  that  toast  was  insipid,  and 
only  fit  for  the  ground-work  of  a  Welsh  rarebit,  aud  blazers, as 
you  all  know,  are  very  unfashionable." 

"I  didn't  mean  to  hurt  his  feelings,"  said  the  Lion,  "but  if  be 
didn't  look  like  a  piece  of  toast,  he  looked  less  like  an  American 
flag — why,  he  didu't  wave  a  bit,  and  his  stripes  wereu't  red  aud 
white,  but  brown  and  yellow." 

"  He  wasu't  fastened  to  a  pole,  either,"  said  the  Bear.  "Was 
he,  Lion  ?" 

"No,  he  wasn't.  But  never  mind.  He'll  be  around  again. 
Zebe  is  too  fond  of  talking  to  sulk  very  long.  How  many  pea- 
nuts did  you  get  to-day,  Jumbo?" 

"Only  oue,"  said  Jumbo,  sadly.  "Oue  peanut,  a  lemon  pie, 
aud  a  pair  of  opera-glasses." 

"  How  ou  earth  did  you  happen  to  get  the  opera-glasses  ?" 
asked  the  Gun,  with  a  loud  laugh. 

"It  was  a  mistake,"  returned  the  Elephant,  wiggling  his  ear. 
"A  very  bad  mistake  ou  the  part  of  a  little  girl  who  was  carry- 
ing her  mother's  opera-glasses  in  oue  hand  and  the  most  beauti- 
ful bun  you  ever  saw  in  the  other.  The  bun  was  for  me,  and 
the  little  girl  was  going  to  throw  it  into  my  mouth  in  the  usual 
way,  but  she  got  so  excited  she  didu't  know  what  she  was  do- 
ing, aud  threw  the  glasses  clear  down  into  my  throat.  It  was 
terrible  the  way  those  glasses  went  down." 

"What  made  you  swallow  them  ?"  asked  tbe  Gnu. 

"I  didu't  know  of  her  mistake  until  I  looked  down  at  her  aud 


saw  the  glasses  were  gone,  and  the  bun  was  still  in  her  hand," 
returned  the  Elephant.  "I  had  my  eyes  turned  up  to  the  ceil- 
ing in  an  ecstasy  of  anticipation." 

"  But  couldn't  you  tell  by  the  taste  of  them  f" 

"Well,  I  thought  it  was  the  worst  bnu  for  its  looks  I'd  ever 
had."  replied  the  Elephant.  ''But  I  took  it  for  granted  the 
child  knew  what  she  was  about.  I  never  even  dreamed  of  get- 
ting the  opera-glasses.  I've  bad  pretty  nearly  everything  from 
a  seal-skiit  to  a  paper  of  tacks  presented  to  me  in  that  fashion, 
but  never  in  my  wildest  moments  did  I  ever  hope  for  opera- 
glasses." 

"Were  the  tacks  good?"  asked  Jimmieboy. 

"First-rate,"  replied  the  Elephant.  "  They  were  rather  sharp, 
but  not  more  so  than  red-pepper,  and  I  was  really  glad  to  get 
them  at  the  time  because  it  was  spring-time, and  I  felt  sort  of 
run  down  and  needed  a  little  iron.  They  set  me  right  up  again." 

"Tacks  are  first-rate  to  keep  things  from  going  to  pieces," 
observed  the  Bear  \N  ith  a  wink  at  Jimmieboy. 

"They  held  together,"  said  the  Elephant,  and  then  they 

all  laughed  again,  whereupon  the  Lion  roared  over  to  the  Hip- 
popotamus that  they'd  all  like  to  bear  his  pathetic,  song  about 
the  Nile. 

"Very  well,"  replied  the  Hippopotamus,  " I'll  sing  it  with 
pleasure,  hut  I  warn  you  it  makes  me  cry, and  Jimmieboy  will 
get  his  feet  wet  if  I  do." 

"Oh  no,  he  won't — not  if  he  climbs  up  ou  the  Giraffe's  neck," 
said  the  Lion. 

"But  the  Giraffe's  away,"  said  the  Bear. 

"Then  let  him  get  up  ou  the  trapeze,"  said  tbe  Liou. 

"No,"  said  the  Hippopotamus,  who  was,  by-the-way,  one  of 
the  most  agreeable  and  accommodating  behemoths  that  ever 
lived.  "I'll  fix  it.  As  I  weep  I'll  open  my  mouth  and  catch 
the  tears  as  they  flow  aud  swallow  them." 

"  Thank  yon,"  said  Jimmieboy.    "  You  are  very  kind,  indeed." 

•'Not  at  all."  returned  the  Hippopotamus, politely.  "It's really 
a  pleasure.  I  am  very  fond  of  salt  water." 

And  then  he  began  his  song: 

"  Oh,  the  River  of  the  Nile 

Is  a  truly  wondrous  stream, 
It  is  longer  than  a  mile, 

And  as  green  as  pistache  cream. 
I  was  born  there  long  ago, 

On  the   river's  mossy  b:mk, 
Long  before  I  had  the  woe 
For  to  dwell  here  in  a  tank. 
Oh.  the  things  I  had  to  eat 
In  those  days  were  hard  to  beat, 
For  the  Pickanninies  on  the  Nile  were  wonderfully  sweet. 

"  Then  the  Hippopotami 

Held  the  river  in  their  grip — 
In  the  days  for  which  I  sigh, 

When  its  waters  knew  no  ship. 
With  the  festive  Crocodile 
And  the  roaring  cataract, 
That  dear  River  of  the  Nile 
Was  an  Eden   for  a  fact. 

Oh,  the  fun  we  used  to  see 
In  the  happy  .-ipogee 
Of  our  Kingdom  ou  the  River  down  in  sunny  Afrikee!" 

Here  the  Hippopotamus  began  to  show  signs  of  emotion. 
Great  tears  measuring  about  a  gallon  apiece  appeared  at  the 
outer  corners  of  his  eyes,  aud  Jimmieboy  grew  somewhat  fear- 
ful lest  the  huge  creature  should  either  forget  his  promise  to 
catch  them  in  falling,  or  else  should  be  unable  to  do  so,  but  the 
Hippopotamus  did  not  forget,  and  showed  himself  a  very  in- 
genious creature  in  the  way  he  managed  his  tears.  He  simply 
smiled  until  the  corners  of  his  month  reached  the  corners  of  his 
eyes,  and  as  they  met  the  tears  broke  and  coursed  in  a  torrent 
down  his  throat.  In  a  moment  he  had  gathered  in  all  there 
were — about  eighty-seven  gallons  from  each  eye — wheu  he  be- 
gan the  last  verse  of  his  song : 

"Oh!  it  makes  me  very  sad 
To  be  shut  up  in  a  Zoo 
With  a  Hudson  River  Shad, 

And  an  aged  Kangaroo; 
With  a  Grizzuelly  Bear 

And  a  whisker-growing  Yak  ; 

With  the  Tortoise  and  the  lime, 

And  the  balance  of  the  pack. 

Since  my  voice  in  grief  must  drop 
My  sad  song  at  once  I'll  stop, 
With  the  statement  that  this  life   for  that  of  old's  a  losing  swap." 


APKII,  a,  1S95. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLK. 


383 


"  Bravo  !"  cried  tlie  Lion,  bis  voice  trembling  with  sympathy. 

"Don't  cry. ''said  the  Bear  to  the  weeping  Hippopotamus.  "It 
makes  you  look  like  a  Hypochondriac,  ami  I  don't  like  them." 

••  What's  a  Hypochondriac  ?"  asked  Jimmiehoy. 

••  It's  an  animal  that  can't  see  any  fun  in  life, and  thinks  when- 
ever it  hasn't  got  mumps  it  has  asthma  or  something  else." 

"What  a  disagreeable  animal, "said  Jimmiehoy.  "Have  you 
one  here  ?" 

"No,"  iviurued  the  Licm.  "We  are  only  quadrupeds  here. 
The  Hypochondriac  is  a  biped,  according  to  the  histories,  but  I 
don't  believe  it's  true,  because  they  never  seem  to  me  to  have 
any  legs  at  all.  By-the-way,  what  time  is  it  ?" 

'•  Five  o'clock,"  said  the  Bear. 

"A.M.  or  KM.  ?"  queried  the  Lion. 

'•A.M. ."said  the  Bear. 

"Then  it's  time  we  began  to  roar  for  our  breakfasts.  Are 
you  ready  .'" 

••We  arc-!"  cried  all  the  Beasts  at  once,  and  then  the  Lion 
counted  "  One — Two — Three!"  whereupon  they  all  began  to  roar 
with  the  full  strength  of  their  lungs.  The  noise  was  terrifying. 
and  Jimmieboy,  to  keep  from  hearing  it, covered  his  ears  with 
his  hands,  and  closed  his  eyes  as  tightly  as  he  could. 

Ill  a  minute  he  opened  his  eyes  again,  and  the  animals  had 
disappeared.  s<i  had  the  circus  tent  and  everything  connected 
with  it.  The  sun  was  just  sending  its  first  morning  rays  through 
the  closed  blinds  of  the  nursery  window,  and  the  clock  bell  was 
sounding  the,  last  stroke  of  six. 

S.i  as  usual  Jimmieboy  scampered  out  of  the  nursery  into  his 
father's  room  to  tell  him  of  the  strange  thing  that  happened  in 
the  night,  and  ho\v  indignant  he  was  with  his  father  after  he 
had  finished! 

And  well  he.  might  have  been,  for  his  father  had  the  impu- 
dence to  tell  him  he  had  imagined  it  all! 


RUNNING    THE   CHINESE    BLOCKADE. 

A  WAR  -without  blockade-running  would  be  as  tame  as  a  cir- 
cus without  bare-back  riders.  The  ordinary  fighting-men 
of  the  army  and  navy  have  their  share  of  battles  and  hardships, 
but  the  blockade-runner  is  the  dashing  fellow  who  takes  his  life 
in  his  hands,  knowing  that  he  cannot  fight  if  pursued,  and 'that 
speed  and  artful  dodging  are  the  only  things  that  can  save  him 
if  he  is  forced  to  run  the  gauntlet. 

Captain  F.  J.  Hansford,  of  the  British  steamer  Metapedia,  had 
an  adventure  with  Chinese  gunboats,  a  few  days  ago,  that  he 
will  not  soon  forget.  He  saved  a  cargo  of  cannon  and  ammu- 
nition worth  |4,000,000  for  the  Japanese  government,  and  the 
little  brown  men  are  as  proud  of  him  as  if  he  were  one  of  their 
own  Samurai.  Captain  HausforAis  old  and  wise.  He  used  to 
command  ships  that  ran  to  and  from  the  blockaded  Southern 
ports  during  the  civil  war,  when  the  Southerners  were  willing 
to  pay  fabulous  prices  to  send  out  their  cotton,  and  receive 
British  arms  and  ammunition  in  return.  Captain  Hansford's 
experience  in  dodging  Uncle  Sam's  war-ships  gave  him  a  fine 
training  for  the  dangerous  business  of  running  past  Chinese 
meu-o'-war. 

The  British  steamer  Metapedia  was  loaded  at  Hamburg  with 
five  50-tou  cannon  and  seven  25-ton  guns.  Besides  there  was  a 
large  assortment  of  Krnpp  rapid-firing  guns,  and  a  whole  ship- 
load of  dynamite,  fulminates,  and  all  sorts  of  materials  for  mak- 
ing torpedoes.  All  of  this  cargo  had  been  put  on  boar.d  as 
secretly  as  possible,  but  of  course  it  was  pretty  well  known 
about  Hamburg  that  the  ship  was  full  of  stuff  for  making  war, 
and  that  it  was  to  go  to  Japan. 

There  was  great  danger  that  the  Chinese  would  learn  all 
about  the  Metapediu's  cargo,  and  try  to  capture  the  ship.  So 
every  precaution  was  taken.  Captain  Hansford  pretended  not 
to  know  where  he  was  bound.  The  steamship  dropped  down 
the  river,  and  stood  out  in  the  North  Sea.  Then  the  Captain 
opened  a  sealed  envelope  that  had  been  handed  to  him  at  the 
last  moment  before  sailing.  In  it  he  found  orders  to  take  his 
cargo  to  the  most  convenient  Japanese  naval  station ;  also  to 
look  out  for  Chinese  gunboats  off  Formosa. 

Nothing  startling  happened  until  Formosa  was  in  the  offing. 
Then  Captain  Hansford  was  surprised  to  see  three  gunboats 
making  for  him,  all  of  them  flying  the  Japanese  flag.  First  he 
thought  they  might  be  an  escort,  but  he  soon  reasoned  that  the 
Japs°wonld  rather  not  send  gunboats  to  meet  him,  and  thereby 
advertise  his  errand.  So  he  made  for  the  open  sea  with  the 
Metaptdia's  engines  revolving  like  mad.  The  gunboats  struck 
their  Japanese  colors,  and  promptly  hoisted  their  Yellow  Dra- 


gons. The  nearest  one  tired  a  shot,  but  it  fell  too  far  away  to 
worry  anybody.  Presently  that  awful  Asiatic  storm,  the  ty- 
phoon, began  to  blow,  and  darkness  hid  the  ships  from  one 
another.  The  Chinese  gunboats  quit  the  pursuit,  and  when  the 
storm  was  over  they  boarded  an  inoffensive  ship,  the  Obvrin. 
which  was  the  first  they  met.  The  Metapedia  arrived  safely  at 
Yokuska-,  a  Japanese  naval  station.  Captain  Hansford  received 
;i  present  of  $2500,  and  all  his  sailors  got  presents  too. 


ALL  the  readers  of  Yorxu  PF.c>ri,i<:  know  how  to  color 
Easter  eggs,  by  tying  them  up  in  bits  of  colored  calico  and 
boiling  them  until  they  are  as  "  hard  as  a  stone  "  ;  and  they  also 
know  of  the  egg-rolling  parties,  and  how  you  always  exchange 
eggs  with  each  other  at  the  end  of  the  game.  But  these  ''Kgg- 
for  Easter"  are  not  for  rolling,  as  that  sort  of  treatment  would 
soon  spoil  them.  All  that  is  needed  to  make  Li  Hung  Chang, 
the  fish,  clown,  or  any  of  the  decorated  eggs  in  the  sketch  is  a 
pen  and  ink,  a.  bottle  of  mucilage,  some  paper,  and  a  pair  of 
scissors,  and  also  some  cotton  wool — black,  if  possible — for  the 
monk  and  clown. 

The  hardest  one  to  make  is  perhaps  the  clown,  but  he  is  the 
best,  perhaps,  and,  like  everything  we  do  in  this  world,  the  harder 
it  is  to  do  the  more  it  is  worth  having.  For  the  three  tufts, 
one  on  top  and  on  either  side  of  his  head,  cut  the  wool  about  an 
inch  long  and  sharpen  them  to  a  point  with  scissors;  ink  two 
pieces  of  hemp  twine  an  inch  long  for  horns,  ravel  one  end 
so  that  it  will  spread  out  enough  to  take  mucilage  sufficient  to 
make  them  stand  up  ;  the  little  ball  at  the  end  is  simply  a  knot 
tied  before  the  string  is  cut.  The  long  drooping  mustache  of 
Li  Hung  Chang  is  also  inked  string,  but  if  treated  to  a  bath  of 
mucilage  they  will  keep  more  graceful  curves.  The  ears  of  the 
rabbit  are  simply  little  rolls  of  paper  pasted  together  and  cut 
before  being  stuck  on.  For  fhe  tins  and  tail  of  the  fish  draw 
them  with  ink  before  cutting  out,  fold  them  about  an  eighth  of 
an  iuch,  or  just  wide  enough  to  take  the  mucilage. 

Any  of  the  eggs,  if  cleverly  done  and  put  in  a  box  about  the 
same  size  filled  with  wool,  is  very  nice  to  send  to  a  friend  at 
Easter. 


TWO   LITTLE   APRIL-FOOLS. 

DAFFYDOWNDILLY  looked  up  at  the  sun, 
And  saw  with  delight  that  the  spring  had  begun; 
Her  gay  yellow  bonnet,  of  satin  so  sweet, 
And  her  downy  green  jacket  so  cozy  and  neat 
She  drew  on  in  haste,  and  glanced  out  on  the  street. 
And  found  herself  blooming — the  very  first  one  ! 

Little  Miss  Bessie  looked  out,  and  she  said, 

"Oh,  it  is  lovely  and  bright  overhead!" 
So  she  took  her  new  parasol,  blue  as  the  sky, 
And  her  new  Sunday  hat,  with  its  daisies  wreathed  high, 
And  the  pretty  bronze  slippers  she  brought  home  to  try, 

And  out  on  the  street  like  a  fairy  she  sped. 

Dark  grew  the  sky,  and  like  sleet  was  the  rain, 
Lashing  the  tree-tops  and  beating  the  pane. 
Daffydowudilly  tried  vainly  to  hide, 
And  little  Miss  Bess,  in  her  beauty  and  pride, 
With  hat,  shoes,  and  parasol  soakiug,  she  cried  : 
"The  suu  April-fooled  us!     He  did — it  is  plain!" 

MliS.   MCVEAN-ADAMS. 


384 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


THE  DIFFICULTY. 

"  WHAT  is  the  matter  with  your  dog.  Harold  ?  Whenever  lie 
runs  he  falls  head  over  heels." 

"I  know  it — poor  little  thing!  His  hiud  legs  can  run  faster 
than  his  fore  legs,  arid  so  he's  always  tripping  himself  up." 


ONE  OF  NATURE'S    PRANKS. 

"  I  GUESS  it's  spring-time,"  said  the  Blade  of  Grass,  popping  its 
head  up  above  the  hard  ground. 

"  April-fool !"  cried  the  last  Snow-storm  of  the  year,  dropping 
a  few  flakes  upon  the  little  grass  blade's  head. 


A   MISLEADING  PICTURE. 

JIMMIEBOY'S  picture  stands  on  his  father's  desk,  and,  sad  to 
relate,  has  in  some  way  managed  to  get  a  few  ink  spots  on  it. 

•'  Humph  !"  said  Jimmieboy,  as  he  caught  sight  of  one  blot  on 
his  little  white  blouse  in  the  picture.  "  That  looks  as  if  I'd  been 
having  a  bully  time;  but  it  isn't  so.  Somebody  else  played  with 
that  ink'." 


AN    APRIL   FOOL. 
•'WELL,  I'M  A  UIGGRR  FOOL,  MY  FRIENDS,  THAN  I  HAD  KVKE  THOUGUT  ON; 

I'VE   GONE   AN'   MAUR1UU    MK    A    WIFK,  AND   FIND   SUE'S   STUFFED   WITH    COTTON!" 


A   REASONABLE  IDEA. 

"  SEEMS  to  me,"  remarked  Wilbur,  as  he  thought  about  cer- 
tain things,  "  that  if  they  have  an  insect  called  a  Bee  and  a  bird 
called  a  Jay,  there  ought  to  be  things  named  after  the  other  let- 
ters in  the  alphabet.  For  instance,  a  Q  would  make  a  splendid 
animal,  because  it  has  a  tail  to  start  with." 


A  RUSTIC  audience  in  a  far  Western  town  were  enjoying  in- 
tensely a  magic-lantern  show.     lu  the  course  of  the  programme 
the  lecturer  announced,  "  A  bird's-eye  view  of  Paris."     It  vras 
pretty  and  clear,  but  there  was  a  slight  detect  iu  the  paper  of 
the  photograph  above  the  picture  of  the  beautiful  city,  which 
\v;i>  duly  magnified,  and  assumed  a  conspicuous  place  on  the  can- 
vas.  Amidst  the  perfect  quiet  of  the  darken- 
ed room,  broken  here  and  there,  by  soft  sighs 
of  ecstasy,  a  little  voice  piped  up: 

"Mamuia,is  that  the  bird's  eye — above 

the  city  ?" 

— — * 

PAT'S    WAY  OF  CATCHING   FISH. 

AN  Irishman  was  seen  one  day  industri- 
ously pumping  away  on  a  small  bellows 
with  the  nozzle  stuck  into  a  stream  of  wa- 
ter. Upon  being  asked  why  he  was  blow- 
iiig  air  into  the  water  he  exclaimed  : 

"Faith, oi've  noticed  that  fish  can't  live  in 
the  air,  so  oi  thought  oi'd  give  thim  some 
air  in  the  water,  and  whin  they  dies  and 
conies  to  the  top  oi  can  ketch  them.  Yez 
see,  it's  much  aisyer  than  fishiu'." 

CONSOLATION. 

"  MY  birthday  is  April  -  fool's  day,"  said 
Jack,  "  but  I  don't  care.  That  don't  make 
uie  a  fool  any  more  than  being  born  on 
Fourth  of  July  would  make  a  fire-cracker 
of  me." 


MUST   DO   SOMETHING. 

"  MAMMA,"  said  Jack,  "  may  I  go  out  and  play  ?" 

"No;  you  must  sit  still  where  you  are." 

Pause. 

"Ma,  can't  I  go  down  iu  the  kitchen?" 

"You  may  not.     I  want  you  to  sit  perfectly  quiet." 

Another  pause. 

"  Mammy,  mayn't  I  sit  ou  the  floor  and  play  marbles  ?" 

"Now,  my  dear  boy,  I  have  told  you  twice  that  I  want  you  to 
sit  just  where  you  are  and  be  quiet,  and  I  mean  exactly  what  I 
say." 

Third  pause. 

"  Ma — may  I — grow  t" 

» 

OVERHEARD  IN  THE  TOOL-HOUSE.  * 
"  Do  you  ever  have  trouble  with  your  teeth  ?"  asked  the  Rake 

of  the  Bucksaw. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  Saw,  sadly ;  "  they're  always  bothering  me." 
"  I  should  think  they  might,"  said  the  Eake.    "  Fact  is,  I  don't 

see  how  you  could  have  anything  else  but  saw-teeth  with  the 

work  you  do." 

OVERHEARD  IN  THE  MENAGERIE. 

"  IF  this  place  should  catch  tire  what  would  you  do  ?"  asked 
the  Giraffe  of  the  Elephant. 

"I'd  pick  up  my  trunk  and  run  for  the  entrance.  What  would 
you  do  V 

"I'd  go  to  that  window  and  slide  down  my  neck  to  the  side- 
walk," said  the  Giraffe  with  a  wink  at  the  monkeys. 


I1O\V   IT   HAPPENED. 
"  WHAT  is  your  name,  little  boy  ?" 
"  Peter,  ma'am,"  said  Willis. 
"  Named  after  your  father  ?" 
"  No,  ma'am.     After  my  Aunt  Sarah." 
"  What  ?     Are  you  crazy  ?" 
"No,  ma'am.     I'm  April-foolin'." 


"  THAT    is   TOO   PLAIN   TO    Foor.    ANYBODY. 

WILL     JUST     8TKP     ON     TI1E     BIKING    AND   BUN     OFF 
WITH   THK   BAIT." 


APRIL   FOOL. 

I  BDT   THE  TRICK 


DIDN'T    WORK  THE   WAY 
HE  THOUGHT    IT    WOULD. 


'fir 


H 


HARPE      

YOUNG  PEOPLE 


Copyright,  1895,  by  H.HPKE  A  BROTHKKS.     All  Rights  Reserved. 


PUBLISHED    WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI. — NO.  806. 


NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY,  APRIL  9,  1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO  DOLLARS  A    TEAR. 


YEN  EL  LI'S     VIOLIN. 


BY    JAMES    BARNES. 


IN  Filzleroy  Street  there  is  a  row  of  houses  which  are 
only  three  stories  high,  and  it  is  about  the  occupants 
of  the  little  house  farthest  to  the  left  that  this  story  is 
written. 

To  begin  at  the  top.  Under  the  roof  lived  the  musi- 
cian all  alone ;  on  the  second  floor  lived  the  fisherman 
and  his  wife;  on  the  first  the  tailor  and  his  daughter, 
who,  by-the-way,  rented  the  rooms  to  the  others;  and  in 
the  basement  had  lived,  some  time  ago,  before  the  story 
opens,  a  poor  widow  and  her  little  girl.  But  the  basement 


window  now  bore  a  sign  showing  that  this  apartment  was 
for  rent. 

The  musician  was  a  very  queer  old  man,  and  most  of  the 
Filzleroy  Street  children  had  somehow  formed  the  idea 
that  he  was  very  bad  and  cruel.  It  is  very  natural  for 
children  to  start  this  kind  of  a  story  about  old  people 
who  walk  with  their  heads  down,  and  who  have  very 
deep-set  restless  eyes.  They  had  kept  out  of  his  way 
for  years,  or  at  least  only  thrown  taunts  at  him  as  he 
passed  by.  To  these  taunts  he  had  never  replied. 


386 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


From  the  third  story  often  came  the  strains  of  a  vio- 
lin. A  few  years  ago  they  were  more  frequent  and,  in 
fact,  more  pleasing,  for  as  time  had  gone  on  the  old 
man's  fingers  had  become  bent  and  cramped  with, 
rheumatism,  and  at  last  he  could  do  no  more  than  play 
very  slow  pieces  that  required  but  little  execution.  Now, 
for  some  time,  he  had  not  played  at  all.  And  yet  there 
was  a  time  long,  long  since  in  which  hundreds  of  people 
had  watched  his  figure  as  it  swayed  to  his  own  music, 
and  had  listened  to  the  wailing,  singing,  and  laughing  of 
this  same  violin  that  nestled  in  its  little  wooden  coffin  up 
in  the  room  under  the  sloping  eaves. 

I  have  said  that  on  the  second  story  lived  the  fisher- 
man, and  a  very  wonderful  fisherman  he  was  too,  for 
he  fished  from  morning  to  evening,  in  fact  as  long  as 
daylight  lasted,  and  had  never  caught  a  fish  that  any 
one  could  eat  in  all  his  life.  He  had  caught  many  other 
things,  and  more  people  had  watched  him  with  his  rod 
in  his  hand  than  had  watched  any  other  angler  in  the 
world,  and  more  people  had  laughed  at  the  strange  things 
lie  caught  than  you  could  count  if  you  took  a  whole  day 
for  the  reckoning,  for  the  fisherman  angled  from  the  roof 
•of  a  tall  building  on  the  corner  of  a  busy  avenue.  Sit- 
ting under  an  umbrella  if  it  rained,  or  the  sun  was  very 
hot,  he  dropped  his  hook  into  an  imaginary  pond,  from 
which  he  drew  such  strange  things  as  old  boots,  odd- 
looking  alligators,  tin  sauce-pans,  and  now  and  then  a 
huge  stuffed  fish  almost  as  large  as  himself,  which  he 
pretended  to  have  great  trouble  in  landing.  In  fact,  the 
fisherman  was  a  living  advertisement  (and  had  been  so 
for  years)  for  a  brand  of  smoking  tobacco. 

The  fisherman's  wife  was  a  neat  little  woman,  who 
worked  at  lace-making  all  day  long.  When,  on  Sunday, 
the  couple  went  to  church,  no  one  would  have  recognized 
them  at  all,  for  the  little  woman  wore  a  very  handsome 
Cashmere  shawl  about  her  shoulders,  and  the  fisherman 
a  very  tall  silk  hat  with  a  wide  straight  brim. 

Every  day  of 'their  lives  for  the  past  ten  years  they 
had  seen  the  odd  old  man  who  played  the  violin,  and 
they  had  wished  him  a  cheerful  good-morning  now  and 
then.  To  this  kindly  greeting  the  old  musician  respond- 
ed merely  with  a  nod. 

On  a  bright  day  the  children  of  Fitzleroy  Street  poured 
out  of  the  great  tenements  and  out  of  the  crowded  little 
brick  houses  into  the  street,  and  their  shouts  and  laugh- 
ter sounded  as  if  it  were  school  recess  most  of  the  time. 

The  poor  widow  and  her  little  daughter,  who  had  lived 
in  the  basement,  had  been  so  poor,  that  oftentimes  she 
and  the  little  girl  had  known  what  it  was  to  be  cold 
and  hungry. 

If  a  barrel-organ  wandered  into  the  street,  which  hap- 
pened very  often,  the  little  girl  did  not  dance  about  it, 
but  stood  to  one  side  listening  to  the  jingling  music  and 
thrilled  through  and  through  by  the  metallic  tinkling  runs. 

It  was  while  standing  this  way  one  morning,  some 
time  before  our  story  opens,  her  lips  and  fingers  blue 
from  cold,  that  she  had  attracted  the  attention  of  the 
fisherman's  wife. 

The  latter  had  stopped  and  asked  the  little  girl  her 
name.  The  child  told  her  what  it  was,  and  it  sounded 
as  if  it  should  go  with  silks  and  satins  and  not  with 
broken  shoes  and  threadbare  dresses. 

"Angelica  Fredericka  Grafton "  had  sounded  very 
strangely  for  such  a  poor  wan  hungry  little  creature. 

That  evening  the  fisherman's  wife  had  sat  up  quite 
late  after  her  husband's  return,  and  her  sewing-machine 
had  hummed  far  into  the  night.  The  next  morning  she 
had  gone  to  the  basement  and  found  where  Angelica 
Fredericka  lived.  She  had  found,  also,  that  Angelica's 
mother  was  very  ill. 

It  was  evident,  however,  that  it  was  not  to  be  for  long, 
and  one  day  the  poor  woman  with  the  aristocratic  name, 
who  sewed  linings  in  overcoats  all  day  long,  gave  up  the 


struggle,  and  Angelica  had  been  taken  upstairs,  without 
any  formality  of  law,  to  live  with  the  fisherman  and 
his  wife,  and  to  share  their  comparative  comforts,  which 
to  her  seemed  quite  like  luxuries;  and  this  is  how  she 
came  to  meet  the  strange  old  man  who  used  to  climb 
the  uncarpeted  stairway  to  the  third  story. 

It  had  not  taken  very  long  for  the  fisherman  and  his 
wife  to  grow  very  fond  of  the  golden-haired  little  girl, 
and  they  soon  came  to  regard  her  as  quite  their  own. 
With  plenty  to  eat  and  warm  clothing  to  wear,  Angel- 
ica's cheeks  had  grown  rosy  and  her  thin  little  face  had 
filled  out  wonderfully. 

Every  now  and  then  the  owner  of  the  violin  had  a 
visitor.  An  old  man  quite  as  old  but  much  straighter 
than  himself  came  to  see  him,  and  when  he  did  so  the 
violin  always  woke  up,  and  the  people  belowstairs  used 
to  stop  in  the  hallway  to  listen  to  the  music. 

The  musician  and  his  visitor  rarely  talked,  and  when 
they  did  so  it  was  in  a  foreign  tongue,  which  no  one  in 
the  house  could  have  understood  if  they  had  listened,  but 
which  it  will  do  to  translate  for  the  time  being  to  help 
tell  the  story. 

"  Ah,  Leon,  dear  friend,"  said  the  owner  of  the  violin, 
"I  could  not  part  with  it,  and  I  can  no  longer  play  it. 
Pity!  Pity!"  He  clasped  his  gnarled  fingers,  and  the 
tears  poured  down  his  cheeks.  He  added,  as  he  paused 
and  glanced  about  him,  "  I  cannot  part  with  it." 

His  friend  did  not  reply,  but  had  drawn  an  answer 
from  the  violin. 

One  day  as  the  old  men.  sat  with  the  violin  talking  be- 
tween them  they  had  heard  a  sound  of  something  mov- 
ing on  the  stairway  landing  outside  the  door.  There 
stood  Angelica.  Many  times  she  had  stolen  up  the  stair- 
way and  stood  on  the  top  step  listening  to  the  violin, 
and  many  times  had  the  fisherman  and  his  wife  on  the 
second  floor,  and  even  the  tailor  and  his  daughter  on  the 
first  floor,  left  their  doors  open  and  also  listened. 

When  Angelica  saw  the  fierce-looking  old  man  stand- 
ing there  she  was  much  frightened,  and  was  about  to  run 
down  the  stairs,  but  he  stopped  her. 

"You  like  it,"  he  said,  "  ze  music?  Come  stand  here 
where  you  can  hear  it  better." 

The  other  had  stopped  playing,  but  at  a  gesture  from 
his  friend  had  resumed  again.  Angelica  stood  quivering 
with  nervous  delight.  Oftentimes  had  she  heard  the 
violin  played  in  the  street,  but  never  had  she  heard  it 
played  like  this  before.  The  music  appeared  to  come 
from  all  about  her.  It  filled  the  dingy  room  until  it 
seemed  like  a  voice  from  fairyland.  She  closed  her  eyes; 
no  longer  was  she  in  the  noisy  city,  but  in  some  great 
wide  forest  where  the  birds  were  singing  and  the  breezes 
playing  among  the  trees.  Angelica  drew  her  breath  in 
sighs  of  delight.  Then  he  dashed  off  into  a  rippling, 
laughing  chase  of  sound  that  made  her  laugh  out  loud. 

Suddenly  he  stopped,  and  Angelica,  too  much  overcome 
to  even  breathe  her  thanks,  stole  down  just  in  time  to 
meet  the  fisherman  as  he  returned  from  his  day  of  toil; 
for  toil  it  surely  was. 

When  she  had  gone,  the  one  who  had  played  the  violin 
replaced  it  in  the  long  black  box. 

"She  has  an  artiste's  soul,  Maurice,"  he  said.  "That 
child,  you  can  play  upon  her  feelings  much  as  one  plays 
011  this." 

"She  could  learn  to  play  heTself,"  replied  the  other 
old  man.  "Did  you  see  her  hands,  my  friend?"  Once 
more  he  extended  his  own  cramped  fingers  and  sighed. 

The  next  day  was  Easter.  The  fisherman,  dressed  in 
his  best  black  coat,  was  looking  out  of  the  window.  No 
one  would  have  thought  that  this  grave-looking  old  man 
was  he  who  wrestled  with  the  big  stuffed  fish  numberless 
times  a  day  on  the  top  of  the  tall  building. 

Angelica  sat  in  a  little  rocking-chair  with  a  book  in 
her  lap;  a  book  that  carries  all  children  far  away  from 


APRIL  9,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


387 


their  surroundings,  and  gives  them  the  delights  of  trav- 
elling in  countries  and  meeting  people  who  are  none  the 
less  delightful  because  they  never  existed.  It  was  Grimm's 
Fairy  Tales. 

Mrs.  Lambey,  the  fisherman's  wife,  had  removed  her 
Cashmi-re  shawl  after  coming  back  from  church,  and 
preparing  dinner  in  the  little  kitchen. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door. 

It  was  exactly  like  a  fairy  story.  There  was  a  large 
bundle  tied  in  tissue-paper.  It  was  addressed  to  the  num- 
ber of  the  house,  second  floor,  and  was  inscribed,  "  For  the 
Little  Lady  with  Golden  Hair." 

Where  it  had  come  from  no  one  could  imagine.  When 
the  bundle  was  opened  it  was  found  to  contain  some  long 
slender  lilies  that  filled  the  room,  despite  the  cooking  in 
the  kitchen,  with  a  sweet  odor — again  quite  like  fairyland. 

Angelica,  moved  by  a  sudden  impulse,  had  stolen  up  to 
the  third  story.  The  little  front  room  was  empty;  but 
she  had  left  two  of  the  lilies  there  in  a  pitcher  of  water. 

The  next  day  Angelica  had  been  met  in  the  hallway 
by  Mr.  Venelli.  for  that  was  the  musician's  name. 

"Good-morning,  mees,"  he  said.  "Would  you  come 
to  hear  my  violin  to-day?" 

She  had  accompanied  the  musician  to  the  upper  story. 
The  slender  white  flowers  were  on  the  window-sill;  she 
was  afraid  of  the  old  man  no  longer.  His  face  was  al- 
most kindly  when  he  smiled. 

It  was  a  beautiful  afternoon,  and  the  sun  shone  down 
into  the  dark  street;  the  children  were  all  playing  at  the 
farther  corner,  and  it  was  quiet;  the  musician  tuned  the 
strings  of  the  violin,  and  commenced  to  play;  his  fingers 
were  a  little  better  on  this  day.  At  last  he  stumbled  in 
rendering  a  passage,  and  uttered  an  exclamation  full  of 
anguish. 

"  No,  no,"  he  said,  "  it  will  set  me  crazy  trying  to  play. 
It  is  gone — gone;  I  only  have  it  here,"  putting  his  hand 
to  his  forehead  pathetically. 

Then  he  turned  to  the  little  girl,  who  had  remained 
standing  by  the  door.  He  motioned  her  to  him,  and 
closed  her  fingers  about  the  bow,  and  showed  her  how  to 
draw  it  clearly  across  the  strings. 

Strange  to  say,  it  appeared  to  come  natural  to  Angelica 
to  take  the  right  position.  She  bent  her  face  lovingly 
over  the  instrument,  and  when  lie  placed  her  fingers  on  a 
chord  it  sounded  sweet  and  firm.  Her  face  was  flushed 
and  her  heart  was  beating  fast,  but  she  did  not  appear  to 
be  nervous  in  the  least.  The  delight  of  having  music 
in  her  own  hands  caused  her  to  thrill  from  head  to  foot. 

"It  ees  good,"  said  the  old  man.  "You  can  learn  to 
play." 

He  made  her  exercise,  and  kept  her  holding  it  in  one 
position  so  long  that  she  felt  almost  cramped;  but  so  in- 
terested was  she  that  she  did  not  notice  how  long  it  was, 
and  stood  there  listening  patiently  to  what  he  told  her. 

The  next  afternoon  the  lesson  was  repeated,  and  one 
evening,  only  a  day  or  so  afterwards,  strange  to  tell,  the 
old  man  had  knocked  at  the  Lambeys'  door. 

The  fisherman  had  greeted  him  and  asked  him  in.  In 
a  few  words  he  explained  his  mission,  and  in  his  broken 
English  he  asked  that  Angelica  might  become  a  pupil  of 
his. 

After  this,  it  being  much  more  comfortable  in  the  rooms 
on  the  second  floor,  Mr.  Venelli  became  quite  a  constant 
visitor,  and  every  afternoon  after  the  lesson  he  would 
take  the  violin  under  his  arm  and  climb  the  stairway  to 
the  room  under  the  eaves. 

The  old  man  seemed  to  expand  under  the  influence  of 
having  found  friendly  voices.  In  fact,  he  became  quite 
companionable,  and  got  into  the  habit  of  dropping  in  and 
talking  with  the  fisherman  in  the  evening  after  Angel- 
ica's lesson.  And  so  the  time  went  by  on  happy  wings. 

At  rare  intervals  the  other  musician  called  at  the  little 
house,  and  on  these  occasions  the  violin  was  brought 


forth  and  Angelica  was  made  to  play.  The  two  old  men 
watched  her  closely;  the  sweeping  turn  of  the  wrist  came 
naturally  to  the  little  girl,  and  her  whole  soul  was  in  the 
music  that  she  played.  It  almost  appeared  as  if  she  must 
practise  in  her  dreams. 

It  was  again  an  Easter  Sunday.  The  great  white  ca- 
thedral was  filled  with  people;  the  organ  was  throbbing, 
and  the  voices  of  the  choir-boys  seemed  to  Angelica  to 
be  like  the  music  she  imagined  one  might  hear  in  heaven. 
It  was  the  first  time  that  she  had  ever  been  here. 

Mr.  Venelli  was  standing  on  one  side  of  her,  and  on 
the  other  side  was  the  fisherman.  As  they  listened  to 
the  music,  Angelica's  hands  sought  the  hands  of  her 
adopted  father  and  of  the  other  old  man,  whom  she  now- 
had  grown  to  love  almost  as  much. 

At  last  the  service  was  over.  The  little  boys,  who 
swung  the  jingling  censers  that  puffed  out  breaths  of 
scented  smoke,  had  headed  the  procession  of  richly  gowned 
priests  out  into  the  chapel,  and  the  crowd  began  to  surge 
through  the  doorway. 

Suddenly  Mr.  Venelli  stepped  forward.  In  front  of 
them  walked  a  tall  man  whose  long  iron-gray  hair  fell 
down  over  his  coat  collar.  He  had  a  sad,  kind  face,  and 
had  evidently  enjoyed  the  music  also,  for  he  was  smiling 
to  himself. 

Mr.  Venelli  plucked  his  arm  and  spoke  some  words  in 
a  foreign  tongue.  The  man  turned  and  started,  then  he 
grasped  the  old  musician  by  both  hands  and  began  to  talk 
so  quickly  that  it  was  with  difficulty,  one  would  think, 
that  any  one  could  follow  what  he  was  saying.  Mr. 
Venelli  stooped  and  took  Angelica  by  the  hand. 

"  Ah  !  is  this  ze  little  lady?"  said  the  tall  man.  "  You 
must  bring  her  to  see  me."  He  took  out  a  card,  and 
stepping  to  one  side  on  to  a  grass-plot,  wrote  an  ad- 
dress on  it,  and  handed  it  to  the  old  musician ;  then  he 
shook  hands  with  Angelica,  raised  his  hat  to  the  fisher- 
man, and  walked  away. 

Mr.  Venelli  was  so  excited  that  he  forgot  that  his 
friends  could  not  understand  the  foreign  tongue,  for  he  rat- 
tled on,  until  suddenly  lie  recollected,  and  began  to  trans- 
late what  he  had  said  slowly. 

"  I  have  not  seen  him  for  twenty  years,"  he  said,  "  and 
he  remembered  me!  And  now  he  is  ze  greatest  player  in 
ze  world.  I  met  him  years  ago  before  lie  was  famous;  he 
took  a  lesson  of  me;  think  of  it,  just  think  of  it!  And 
now  that  he  is  come  to  visit  America,  we  will  be  able  to 
hear  how  ze  violin  can  be  played.  He  remembered  niy 
violin,  too,"  he  added.  "  Oh,  he  could  not  forget  zat!" 

The  little  party  walked  up  to  the  wide  entrance  of  the 
Park.  They  entered  across  the  broad  Plaza,  and  sat  down 
on  a  bench  under  the  shadow  of  the  trees. 

The  musician  was  deep  in  thought,  and  drew  the  card 
that  the  great  man  had  given  him  out  of  his  pocket. 

"It  is  for  zis  afternoon,"  he  said.  "Come,  we  must 
hurry  back." 

He  grasped  Mr.  Lambey  by  the  arm,  and  awaking  the 
little  girl  from  her  reverie,  they  hastened  to  the  avenue. 

An  hour  or  so  later  two  men,  a  little  girl,  and  the  old 
violin-case  were  going  up  in  the  elevator  at  one  of  the 
large  hotels.  They  walked  down  the  hallway,  and  were 
ushered  into  a  small  parlor  whose  windows  overlooked 
the  roofs  of  the  city.  Here  and  there  little  clouds  of 
steam  floated  up  and  waved  about  like  feathery  flags. 
Never  had  Angelica  been  up  so  high  above  the  earth  in 
all  her  life  ;  she  had  shaken  hands  with  the  tall  man 
who  had  greeted  them,  and  had  then  made  her  way  to 
the  window. 

Suddenly  she  heard  a  sound  of  some  one  tuning'  the 
violin.  It  was  the  tall  man  himself.  He  turned  it  over 
in  his  bands  and  looked  at  it  almost  lovingly. 

"  Let  her  play  first,"  he  said. 

She  was  not  a  bit  frightened,  and  could  never  renn  in 
her  how  she  began  at  all,  but  the  first  thing  she  knew  she 


388 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


was  playing  as  she  had  never  played  before.  She  was 
playing  something  that  Mr.  Venelli  had  composed. 

The  tall  man  listened  attentively,  and  now  and  then 
nodded  his  head,  and  when  she  had  finished  he  stepped 
over  to  her  and  kissed  her  forehead. 

"She  should  go  to  Europe,"  he  said  to  Mr.  Venelli. 
"She  will  be  an  artiste,  my  dear  friend.  Has  she  any 
friends  who  could  send  her  there?" 

"She  has  the  violin,"  said  the  old  musician,  "for  I 
will  give  it  to  her  now.  You  would  buy  it?  You  know 
the  price,  my  friend." 

The  tall  man  paused.  Such  an  instrument  as  this  he 
had  hardly  the  equal  of  in  his  whole  collection.  The 
price  that  it  would  bring  would  keep  a  little  girl  for  a 
long  time  in  Paris. 

"Stop,  I  have  an  idea,"  said  the  tall  man.  "She  shall 
appear  with  me  at  one  of  my  concerts." 

Angelica  will  never  forget  how  she  practised  during 
the  next  four  months,  nor  will  the  moment  when  she  was 
led  out  by  the  tall  gray-haired  man  and  saw  those  many 
faces  looking  up  at  her  ever  leave  her  mind.  She  carried 
the  violin  under  her  arm. 

When  she  felt  the  bow  in  her  hands  she  gained  cour- 
age, and  the  music  came  as  freely  and  easily  as  it  did 
when  she  had  played  in  the  little  room  in  Fitzleroy  Street 
or  in  the  parlor  on  Easter  Sunday. 

She  had  won  them!  and  it  was  not  necessary  now  to 
sell  the  violin. 

Mr.  Venelli  wept  tears  of  joy.  He  and  the  violin  had 
triumphed  as  well  as  Angelica. 


SPORTS   AND   AMUSEMENTS   OF   AFRICAN 
NATIVES. 

BY  LIEUTENANT  A.  I.  MOUNTENAY  JEPHSON. 
£-. 


ON  my  return  from  a  journey  of  some  months  through 
Algiers,  the  Sahara  desert,  and  Tunis,  I  found  among 
the  many  letters  awaiting  me  on  my  writing-table  here 
in   sunny  Provence  one  from   the  editor   of  HARPER'S 


THE    AFRICAN    GAME    OF    HOCKEY. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE,  asking  me  to  write  an  article  on  "the 
sports  and  amusements  of  savages  in  Africa."  I  am  fur- 
ther told  it  is  to  form  one  of  a  "series  of  articles  on 
games  and  sports  of  different  lands,"  and  that  it  is  to  be 
written  for  school-boys. 

The  editor  of  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  has  no  idea 
of  the  difficulty  of  the  task  he  has  set  for  me,  for  the 
"savages  of  Africa"  have  but  few  of  what  we  in  civili- 
zation would  call  regular  games. 

There  are,  it  is  true,  in  Central  Africa  some  few  games, 
and  these  I  will  touch  upon;  but  they  are  of  no  great 
importance  among  the  natives,  for  in  Africa  children 
begin  to  learn  things  to  fit  them  for  after-life  at  an  age 
when  the  youth  of  Europe  or  America  would  still  be 
occupied  with  nothing  but  games  and  amusements.  And 
so  it  comes  about  that  in  Africa  the  regular  games  are 
few  and  unimportant,  while  the  practising  of  shooting 
and  running,  of  swimming  and  the  management  of  boats, 
etc.,  becomes  the  real  amusement  of  the  youth  of  Africa. 
In  a  clever  and  exhaustive  description  of  "life  among 
the  Congo  savages  "  Mr.  Ward  makes  the  following  re- 
marks: "  The  young  peopleof  a  native  village  are  alwavs 
in  high  spirits,  amusing  themselves  by  games,  mimic 
warfare,  and  bird-trapping  and  hunting  on  a  miniature 
scale  ;  but  it  is  not  all  play  with  them.  Their  parents 
or  masters  compel  them  to  take  part  in  work  in  which 
they  themselves  may  be  engaged.  It  is  a  mistake  to  con- 
sider that  these  people  are  incorrigibly  indolent  when 
\ve  come  to  consider  the  enormous  amount  of  time  and 
patience  they  bestow  upon  all  their  industries." 

From  this  it  may  be  understood  that  the  regular  games 
must  necessarily  be  few  among  the  Africans,  when  the 
children  begin  to  learn  to  hunt  and  shoot,  etc.,  at  an 
early  age,  and  are  obliged  also  to  take  part  in  the  work 
and  serious  things  of  life  in  which  their  elders  are  en- 
gaged. It  is  difficult,  therefore,  to  determine  where  the 
amusements  cease  and  where  the  real  work  of  life  begins, 
the  two  being  so  mingled. 

Such  games,  too,  as  there  are,  are  not  played  exclusively 
by  young-  people,  but  are  entered  into  with  equal  interest 
and  gayety  by  the  grown-up  people  as  well. 

I  remember  seeing  a 
game,  which  for  want  of 
a  better  name  I  will  call 
football,  played  at  a  vil- 
lage in  the  breezy  up- 
lands of  Central  Africa, 
belonging  to  a  chief  call- 
ed Majamboni.  It  was 
a  feast  day  in  our  camp, 
and  there  had  been  a 
great  slaughtering  of  cat- 
tle. With  two  of  the 
bladders  of  the  slaughter- 
ed cattle  (one  placed  in- 
side the  other),  some  of 
the  native  boys  impro- 
vised a  large  ball,  and 
began  to  play  football 
with  it  on  a  grassy  green 
in  front  of  our  tents. 

Rough  goals  were  put 
up  at  each  end  of  the 
green,  and  sides  being 
chosen,  the  ball  was  kick- 
ed off  from  the  middle 
of  the  ground.  The 
game  was  played  much 
in  the  same  way  that  our 
Association  game  is  play- 
ed, but  there  was  a  good 
deal  of  "handling," 
and  not  much  idea  of 


APRIL  9,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


389 


the  rules  of  "off-side." 
The  natives  understood 
"dribbling"  wonderfully 
well,  and  I  saw  some  re- 
markably good  play,  for 
they  were  clever  at  dodg- 
ing and  passing  the  ball 
back  to  their  own  side. 
Still  there  seemed  to  be 
no  very  close  or  regular 
rules,  each  man  playing 
pretty  much  as  he  saw  fit. 
The  sides,  moreover,  were 
not  limited  to  any  partic- 
ular number,  and  the  ball 
being  struck  from  hand 
to  hand,  was  as  often  in 
the  air  as  011  the  ground. 

The  game,  which  was 
started  with  about  ten 
boys  on  each  side,  was 
soon  joined  in  by  the 
elders,  until  in  a  short 
time  almost  every  grown- 
up man  in  the  village 
was  taking  part  in  it.  As 
soon  as  any  of  them  got 
tired  and  fell  out  of  the 
game,  others  took  their 
places,  sometimes  as 
many  as  a  hundred  men 
playing  at  the  same  time. 

The  game  soon  became 
fast  and  furious,  and  the 
greatest  excitement  was 
shown;  the  women  and 
children,  too,  all  turned 

out  to  see  it,  and  were  quite  as  noisy  in  their  demonstra- 
tions and  showed  quite  as  much  interest  in  it  as  the 
spectators  do  at  a  football  match  between  Harvard  and 
Yale. 

There  was  no  limit  as  to  time,  and  the  game,  which 
was  started  at  about  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  would. 
I  believe,  have  gone  on  till  midnight  had  not  the  ball 
burst  with  a  loud  report  in  the  middle  of  a  scrimmage, 
and  so  with  much  shouting  and  laughter  it  ended  tow- 
ards sundown. 

This  was  the  first  and  almost  the  only  time  I  had  seen 
anything  like  football  played  by  the  natives  of  the  inte- 
rior, and  it  is  interesting  to  find  that  football,  which  is 
always  considered  to  be  a  game  of  civilization,  is  not  un- 
known among  the  so-called  "savages'"  of  Central  Africa. 

The  game  which  is  best  known,  and  which  one  sees 
played  in  almost  every  part  of  Africa,  is  a  kind  of 
"hockey."  From  north  to  south,  from  east  to  west, 


hockey,  or  something  very  like  it,  is  played  everywhere     capital  hockey  clubs. 


NATIVES    PLAYING    THEIR    GAME    OF    CUES 


our  approach,  we  frequently  found  hockey-sticks  of  vari- 
ous sizes  and  shapes,  many  of  them  being  nicely  cut  and 
well  balanced.  In  some  cases  they  were  roughly  carved 
and  ornamented  with  wire,  which  points  to  a  considera- 
ble importance  and  interest  being  attached  to  the  game. 

In  the  forest  countries,  where  the  India-rubber  vine 
abounded,  the  balls,  which  were  usually  about  the  size  of 
a  baseball,  were  made  of  solid  India-rubber,  as  Dr.  Junck- 
er  describes  them,  but  in  most  of  the  open  countries  they 
were  roughly  made  of  wood,  and  in  a  few  cases  of  the 
knuckle-bone  of  some  animal. 

It  is  curious  how  popular  this  game  is  in  Africa,  and 
how  universally  it  is  played,  from  the  smallest  children 
to  grown-up  men.  Three  months  ago,  when  I  was  at 
Biskra,  I  saw  it  played  there,  and  in  the  other  oases  of  the 
Sahara  desert,  every  evening  by  the  Arab  children,  their 
sticks  being  made  from  the  thick  mid-rib  of  date-palm 
leaves,  the  broad  flanging  ends  of  which  render  them 


by  children,  and  grown-up  natives  alike.  I  should  be 
inclined  to  call  it  the  most  popular  game  of  its  kind  in 
Africa. 

In  Dr.  Juncker's  Travels  in  Africa,  he  speaks  of  hav- 
ing seen  it  played  in  the  middle  of  the  Great  Forest,  at  a 
village  near  the  Welle  River.  He  says:  "I  was  surprised 
here  (at  Majegbae's  village)  to  see  a  number  of  youths, 
with  a  few  men,  engaged  in  a  game  of  hui'ly,  played  ex- 
actly as  with  us,  the  parties  driving  an  India-rubber  ball 
with  sticks  in  opposite  directions,  with  much  yelling  and 
shouting.  The  rubber  is  procured  from  the  landolphia, 
a  liana  (creeper)  which  grows  in'  all  the  forest  districts 
along  both  sides  of  the  Welle- Mallua  River." 

In  our  march  across  Africa  from  east  to  west  we  saw 
this  game  played  by  almost  every  tribe  we  encountered, 
whether  in  the  Great  Forest  or  in  the  open  country.  In 


There  were  doubtless  many  games  played  by  the  small- 
er children  which  we  never  saw,  for  in  our  inarch  through 
the  Great  Forest  the  natives  were,  unfortunately,  almost 
always  hostile,  and  we  were  seldom  able  to  see  anything 
of  their  village  life.  Once  only  in  the  forest -was  I  able 
to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  real  village  life  of  these  hostile 
and  warlike  people.  It  was  in  our  starvation  days,  when 
we  had  had  little  or  nothing  to  eat  for  many  weeks  but 
fungus  and  wild  fruits,  and  I  was  sent  out  with  thirty 
of  our  Zanzibar  negroes  to  find  food.  We  had  ranged 
through  the  trackless  forest  all  day,  finding  nothing,  un- 
til late  in  the  afternoon  we  came  upon  a  native  track 
winding  along  by  a  small  dark  stream,  and  this  we  fol- 
lowed up. 

Towards  sunset  we  heard  sounds  which  told  us  we 
were  approaching  a  native  village,  and  moving  softly 


the  huts,  too,  of  villages  whose  inhabitants  had  fled  at     and  silently  along,  we  crept  up  to  the  edge  of  the  clear- 


390 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


ing  and  peered  through  the  bushes.  There  close  to  us 
we  saw  quite  a  pretty  scene.  The  long  village  street 
with  huts  on  each  side  of  it  was  full  of  life.  There  were 
fires  in  the  open  street  with  steaming  cooking  pots  upon 
them,  in  which  the  women  were  preparing  the  evening 
meal  of  bananas  and  corn  and  goat's  meat.  Some  of  the 
men,  fully  armed,  were  chipping  at  the  rough  planks 
witli  which  they  build  their  huts  in  that  part  of  the  forest; 
others  were  polishing  their  spears,  or  shaping  their  bows 
and  arrows;  but  the  day's  work  was  almost  finished,  and 
the  greater  number  of  them  were  sitting  idly  at  the  doors 
of  their  huts,  smoking  their  big  long  pipes  and  watching 
the  children  at  play.  There  were  a  great  many  of  them, 
all  naked,  engaged  in  various  games. 

The  group  nearest  us  was  playing  a  game  which  we  as 
children  used  to  call  "Puss  in  the  Corner" — a  game 
where  the  players  range  themselves  in  different  corners, 
while  one  stands  in  the  middle  trying  to  catch  the  others 
as  they  change  places.  Another  group  were  playing 
hockey,  while  others,  with  much  shouting  and  laughter, 
were  playing  a  kind  of  battledoor  and  shuttlecock  with 
sticks  and  little  bits  of  wood  with  feathers  stuck  in  them. 
Further  off  at  the  other  end  of  the  street  we  could  see 
the  bigger  boys  practising  shooting  at  a  rough  target, 
with  little  bows  and  arrows  which  they  themselves  had 
made,  whilst  among  them  all  the  goats  and  chickens  of 
the  village  wandered  peaceably  about,  picking  up  a  live- 
lihood here  and  these. 

Here  was  the  true  village  life;  here  were  the  simple 
natural  games  of  the  children.  It  was  such  a  pretty, 
quiet  scene  that  I  was  loath  to  disturb  it.  But  we  had 
been  hungry  for  weeks,  and  the  steam  from  the  cooking- 
pots  was  savory  in  our  nostrils.  Thirty  half-starving 
men  were  crouching  behind  me,  so  giving  them  the  word, 
we  parted  the  bushes  in  front  of  us,  and  stepped  out  into 
the  open. 

At  the  sight  of  us  all  the  natives — men,  women,  and 
children — fled  into  the  forest  with  loud  cries  of  fear,  leav- 
ing everything  behind  them.  And  so  without  firing  a 
shot  we  found  ourselves  in  peaceable  possession  of  their 
village,  and  supper  cooked  ready  for  us.  It  was  the  best 
meal  we  had  eaten  for  many  weeks.  We  found  many 
sheaves  of  spears  and  numbers  of  pots  of  freshly  made 
black  liquid  with  which  the  natives  poison  their  arrows. 
These  we  destroyed,  and  after  sleeping  the  night  in  the 
village  we  departed  at  daybreak  next  morning,  leaving 
the  natives  to  return  to  it  when  they  pleased. 

This  was  almost  the  only  opportunity  I  ever  had  in 
the  forest  of  seeing  the  ordinary  village  life,  but  from 
the  short  glimpse  I  got  of  it  I  saw  that  though  games 
among  the  bigger  children  are  few,  there  are  many  sim- 
ple games  unknown  to  Europeans  which  are  played  by 
the  smaller  children  in  the  region  of  the  great  African 
forest.  Occasionally  we  saw  some  of  them,  but  not  often. 
Once  I  remember,  months  afterward,  when  we  were  on 
our  way  down  to  the  coast,  and  were  sitting  one  evening- 
after  supper  round  the  camp-fires,  we  asked  a  little  native 
boy  of  about  twelve  or  thirteen  years  of  age  whom  Cap- 
tain Stairs  had  rescued  from  some  Arab  slave-raiders,  to 
show  us  what  games  he  and  his  companions  used  to  play 
at  their  village  in  the  forest. 

Wadi-Kesi,  for  that  was  his  name,  readily  complied, 
and  bringing  several  sticks  and  a  number  of  flat  stones 
he  arranged  them  alternately  at  equal  distances  on  the 
ground  in  the  shape  of  a  large  square.  Taking  his  place 
in  the  middle  of  it,  he  commenced  singing  some  native 
song.  But  it  evidently  brought  back  to  his  mind  the 
happy  days  he  had  spent  in  his  forest  home;  for  after 
singing  a  few  words  he  sat  down  upon  the  ground,  weep- 
ing and  bewailing  his  fate  so  bitterly  that  we  never  had 
the  heart  afterwards  to  ask  him  to  finish  the  game. 

There  is  one  game,  however,  which  is  played  univer- 
sally in  Africa  by  old  and  young  alike;  this  is  a  kind  of 


native  draughts  or  chess.  It  is  played  by  the  semi-civ- 
ilized tribes  on  both  coasts,  by  the  "savages"  of  the  far 
interior,  and  even  by  the  Arabs.  It  is  played  with  little 
smooth  round  pebbles  generally,  on  an  oblong  board 
about  two  feet  six  inches  long  and  one  foot  six  inches 
broad,  with  small  holes  cut  in  it  like  those  of  a  solitaire 
board.  Some  of  these  boards  are  really  beautifully  made, 
being  often  raised  on  four  finely  carved  legs,  six  inches 
high,  the  whole  board,  legs  and  all,  being  formed  of  a 
single  piece  of  wood. 

In  the  countries  of  the  Monbuttu,  Makraka,  and  those 
tribes  who  inhabit  the  northwest  of  the  forest,  I  have 
seen  many  of  these  draught-boards  which  were  veritable 
works  of  art,  being  carved  in  exceedingly  intricate  and 
tasteful  designs  in  dark  brown  highly  polished  wood. 

In  some  of  the  villages,  however,  of  the  far  interior,  I 
have  seen  the  game  played  merely  on  the  ground,  an 
oblong  space  of  the  proper  size  being  marked  otf  on  a  flat 
hard  piece  of  earth,  with  little  holes  at  regular  intervals 
scooped  out  in  it. 

In  nearly  every  village  one  enters,  in  whatever  part  of 
Africa  it  may  be,  one  almost  invariably  sees  this  game 
played. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


A   DELIGHTFUL   CUSTOM. 
^I^IIE  Topsy-turvy  Doctors  have 
J.      A  very  curious  way  ; 
Tlicy  (In  not   cure  i'nlks  of  their  ills, 
But  of  tbeir  health,  they  say. 

For  instance,  when  a  boy  feels  well, 

The  Doctor  he  comes  by 
Anil  makes  liim  stay  at  homo  from  school, 

And  dose  himself  with  pie. 

And  that  is  why,  'twixt  you  and  me, 
An   Upsiclowiiey  I  would  be. 


THE    STORY   OF   AN   EASTER  EGG. 

BY  SOPHIE  SWETT. 

"  TTAVE   you    seen    my    Fidelia  ?"    Miss   Crayshaw's 

XI  usually  calm  voice  was  agitated  and  anxious,  and 
Dorothy  Byles  looked  up  quickly  from  her  crocus  bed. 
"She's  lost!  she's  been  gone  two  days!" 

"Your  peacock?"  said  Dorothy,  her  plump  fourteen- 
year-old  face  grown  long  with  sympathy;  for  every  one 
in  the  neighborhood  knew  how  fond  Miss  Crayshaw  was 
of  her  pets. 

"  My  peahen,"  corrected  Miss  Crayshaw.  "I  thought 
it  might  be  better  to  keep  the  matter  quiet,  and  offer  a 
large  reward  for  her  return  in  the  Courier  next  week. 
But  I've  grown  so  anxious  that  I  can't  wait.  I  sus- 
pect the  Crasher  boy."  Miss  Crayshaw  leaned  far  over 
the  garden  fence,  and  uttered  the  last  sentence  in  an  im- 
pressive whisper. 

Dorothy  sighed  heavily;  there  was  worse  trouble  in 
the  world  than  the  failure  of  her  crocuses  to  blossom  for 
Easter.  Of  course  Miss  Crayshaw  suspected  the  Crasher 
boy;  every  one  did  when  there  was  any  mischief  done  in 
which  he  could  possibly  have  had  a  share.  Dorothy  u  :is 
president  of  the  Lend-a-hand  Club,  which  was  trying  to 
make  the  mill  boys  and  girls  have  a  better  time,  but  the 
club  could  not  "get  at"  the  Crasher  boy  and  his  sister. 
Dorothy  especially  wished  to  make  them  have  a  better 
time;  perhaps  it  was  because  she  had  once  seen  the 
Crasher  boy  rescue  a  homeless  kitten  from  some  boys  who 
were  tormenting  it,  perhaps  because  when  she  had  once 
tried  to  make  a  call  at  the  little  old  house  by  the  river 
where  the  Crasher  boy  and  his  sister  had  lived  alone, 
since  their  mother  died,  she  had  discovered  why  the 
Crasher  girl  was  sensitive.  "Hard  to  get  along  with," 
the  neighbors  said.  She  wore  her  long,  thin,  sandy  hair 


APRIL  9,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


391 


hanging  loosely  upon  her  shoulders;  when  she  turned 
her  back  Dorothy  saw  that  this  was  an  effort  to  conceal 
a  pitiful  hump. 

"G'long  away!  Phil  and  me  don't  want  folks  spyiii' 
on  us,"  the  Crasher  girl  had  said  with  emphasis,  and  shut 
the  door  in  Dorothy's  face. 

But  Dorothy  was  tender-hearted ;  she  had  forgotten  the 
ungracious  reception,  and  remembered  the  pitiful  hump. 
The  neighbors  said  that  Phil  Crasher  was  almost  fiercely 
devoted  to  his  sister  M'randy.  Dorothy  remembered  that, 
too. 

"  The  Crasher  boy  was  hanging  about  here  Wednesday 
night— the  night  that  Fidelia  disappeared,"  Miss  Cray- 
shaw  was  saying.  "Wimbledon  saw  him."  (Wimble- 
don was  Miss  Crayshaw's  old  gardener,  who  boasted  of 
always  keeping  a  weather  eye  out  for  boys.) 

"I  don't  see  how  any  one  could  have  stolen  her;  she 
had  so  much  of  a  voice,"  said  Dorothy,  trying  to  put  it 
mildly,  for  many  people  had  complained  of  the  shrill 
screaming  of  her  peacocks,  and  Miss  Crayshaw  was  sensi- 
tive. 

"Wimbledon  thinks  he  must  have  choked  her."  Miss 
Crayshaw's  voice  trembled  with  emotion.  "If  his  mo- 
tive had  been  other  than  revenge,  the  thief  would  have 
stolen  Francis,  with  his  splendid  tail  feathers.  I  did  love 
Fidelia  better,  and  it  was  generally  known."  Miss  (  Ira  v 
shaw's  severe  features  worked  pitifully,  like  a  child's. 
She  was  not  known  to  have  a  relative  in  the  world  ;  she 
had  a  proud  nature,  and  family  troubles  had  isolated  her, 
and  one  must  love  something.  "He  probably  wished  to 
be  revenged  on  me  because  I  had  him  arrested  last  sum 
mer  for  stealing  my  plums.  The  judge  let  him  go  be- 
cause there  was  no  one  but  him  to  take  care  of  his  invalid 
sister;  he  said  he  wanted  the  plums  for  his  sister  too, 
and  worked  on  the  judge's  sympathies.  I  think  it  was  a 
mistake  to  let  him  go." 

Dorothy  looked  a  trifle  shamefaced.  The  Lend-a-hands 
had  had  a  little  something  to  do  with  that  affair;  one 
of  them  had  gone  to  Judge  Boultby  and  told  him  how 
parched  with  fever  was  M'randy,  and  how  cool  and  sweet 
were  the  plums,  and  that  the  Crasher  boy  had  asked  Wim- 
bledon to  give  them  to  him — Wimbledon,  whose  heart  was 
hardened,  like  Miss  Crayshaw's,  towards  boys. 

"  He's  very  good  to  his  deformed  sister,"  faltered  Dor- 
othy. "Boys  are  apt  to  be  a  little  trying." 

Who  knew  that  better  than  Dorothy,  who  "came  be- 
tween "  six  brothers,  three  who  scorned  her  counsels  be- 
cause she  was  younger  than  they,  and  three  who  cherished 
a  jealous  fear  that  she  wished  to  rule  because  she  was 
older. 

"/know  what  they  are!"  Miss  Crayshaw's  face  had 
grown  suddenly  rigid  and  severe.  "  I  had  a  brother;  he 
was  little  Eustace  to  me;  he  brought  disgrace  upon  us. 
He  committed  a  crime — forgery.  Then  he  married  among 
his  low  associates.  I  have  never  loved  anything  since 
except  a  dumb  creature,  whose  wickedness  couldn't  break 
my  heart.  Trying!  Boys  seem  to  me  altogether  evil." 

"Oh,  no,  no  ["expostulated  Dorothy,  hastily.  "I  didn't 
mean  anything  like  that.  Our  boys  are  good — inside; 
they  show  it  sometimes;  each  one  has  a  particular  good- 
ness. They're  quite  lovely  once  in  awhile." 

Miss  Crayshaw  smiled  sarcasticalh- ;  she  seemed  some- 
what ashamed  of  having  been  moved  to  this  confidence 
concerning  her  family  affairs.  "I  only  wished  to  ask 
you,  since  you  look  after  the  mill  people  a  little,  whether 
you  would  find  out, if  you  could,  whether  the  Crasher  boy 
suffocated — killed  Fidelia." 

"  She's  quite  sure  that  the  Crasher  boy  is  at  the  bottom 
of  it;  I'm  not,"  said  Dorothy  to  herself,  with  a  little  in- 
dignation. 

"He  may  have  sold  her,"  pursued  Fidelia's  bereaved 
mistress.  "But  I  should  know  her  anywhere.  I  regret 
very  much  that  I  never  raised  any  peafowls  from  her 


eggs.  I  tried  it  several  times,  but  Fidelia  was  not  of  a 
domestic  turn;  she  was  not  a  good  sitter.  She  had  just 
laid  a  litter  of  eggs,  and  Wimbledon  sent  them  to  the  city 
to  sell.  If  I  had  saved  even  one  or  two,  I  might  possibly 
have  raised  another  like  Fidelia." 

Dorothy  had  a  crocus  half  opened  for  Easter  day,  after 
all,  and  she  carried  a  small  potted  lily  from  church— the 
Lend-a-hauds  had  sent  a  supply  for  the  poor  and  sick — 
to  the  little  old  house  by  the  river,  where  the  Crasher  boy 
and  his  sister  lived.  She  had  promised  Miss  Crayshaw 
to  discover  the  peacock  thief,  if  possible;  besides,  it  was 
Easter,  and  she  wasn't  sure  that  Easter  found  its  way 
down  Bridge  Alley. 

Barbara  Donovan  came  hurrying  after  Dorothy  and 
called  to  her.  Barbara  took  care  of  the  rooms  of  the 
Lend-a-haiid  Club,  and  felt  also  that  she  had  a  care  over 
"  the  bit  things  "  who  composed  the  club. 

"  It's  little  thanks  ye'll  get,  I'm  thinkin',  Miss  Dorothy, 
from  thim  two  quare  crathurs  that  thinks  thimsilves  too 
good  to  have  anny  recourse  to  their  neighbors,"  said  Bar- 
bara. "It's  strange  doin's  they're  afther  havin'  there 
yestherday,  wid  a  blood-crnddlin' scrachin' and  scramin'. 
Me  mother  said  it  was  more  like  the  banshee  that  she 
heard  oncet  in  the  ould  counthry  than  annything  else  at 
all.  If  we  heard  the  n'ise  again  we'd  spake  to  the  p'lice- 
man." 

Dorothy's  heart  sank.  The  noise  that  was  like  a  ban- 
shee wail  could  be  nothing  less  than  Fidelia's  voice.  She 
was  tempted  to  turn  back  and  tell  Miss  Crayshaw  or  a 
policeman,  but  it  would  be  a  pity,  whatever  they  were, 
that  they  should  not  have  so  much  of  Easter  as  a  lily. 

The  Crasher  boy  was  standing  in  the  doorway  of  the 
dilapidated  little  shed  which  looked  as  if  it  were  going 
to  fall  over  into  the  river.  He  scowled  when  he  saw 
Dorothy,  and  the  scowl  deepened  as  she  walked  into  the 
yard  towards  him.  But  his  face  softened  suddenly — it 
was  a  square  resolute  face — when  Dorothy  said: 

"  I've  brought  your  sister  an  Easter-lily.  I  knew  she 
was  ill,  and  I  was  afraid  she  wouldn't  have  any  Easter  at 
all." 

He  hesitated,  studying  Dorothy's  face  with  a  pair  of 
keen  gray  eyes.  "I've  got  something  for  her,"  he  said. 
"You  bet  she'll  be  tickled!  She's  coming  out  to  see  it." 
Then  appeared  a  dimple  in  the  Crasher  boy's  freckled 
cheek,  and  anybody  whose  heart  kept  a  corner  for  boys 
must  have  liked  him. 

"He's  like  our  boys  when  they're  good — if  he  is  the 
Crasher  boy,"  said  Dorothy  to  herself,  feeling  a  little  be- 
wildered. He  led  the  way  into  the  shed  with  an  air  of 
delighted  mystery,  and  there,  in  a  nest  of  straw,  lay  a  sin- 
gle, large,  delicately  tinted  egg. 

Dorothy's  heart  sank  again  ;  it  was  a  peahen's  egg. 

"It's  M'randy's  Easter  egg,"  said  the  boy,  with  proud 
delight.  "We  used  to  have  Easters  once,  and  M'randy 
likes  'em.  She — she  cried  because  'twas  Easter,  and  we 
hadn't  any.  So  I  got  her  that,  and  I'm  goin'  to  buy 
Peter  Junkius's  old  white  turkey  for  a  dollar  and  a  quar- 
ter as  soon  as  I  get  the  money,  and  let  her  sit  on  the  egg 
and  raise  a  peacock.  Won't  M'randy  be  tickled,  though  ! 
I'd  have  borrowed  the  old  white  turke}',  only  Peter  Jun- 
kins  is  so  all-fired  mean  he  won't  lend  her." 

"Where  did  you  get  the  egg?"  Dorothy  tried  to  speak 
severely,  but  faltered. 

The  Crasher  boy  looked  down,  and  kicked  the  straw 
shamefacedly.  "I  borrowed  old  Miss  Crayshaw's  pea- 
hen. I  heard  old  Wimbledon  say  she  was  layin'.  When 
M'randy  said  she  wished  she  had  even  an  Easter  egg,  it 
came  right  into  my  head  what  I'd  do.  I  guess  she'll  like 
that  better'n  one  of  those  painted  things  with  mottoes  ami 
ribbons!  Didn't  that  old  fowl  squawk,  though?  I  had  to 
'most  smother  her  under  my  jacket,  and  didn't  I  have  a 
time  getting  out  of  the  carriage-house  window  up  there !  If 


392 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME    XVI. 


"AN    EASTER   EGG    AND   A    LILY   TOO!" 

they'd  caught  me  they'd  have  took  me  up  for  a  thief,  too; 
but  I  was  bound  M'randy  should  have  her  Easter.  Wasn't 
it  lucky  the  old  thing  laid?  I  didn't  expect  she  would; 
she  seemed  so  scared,  and  kept  squawking  so.  I  expected 
nothing  but  what  I'd  get  caught  when  I  carried  her  back 
last  night!" 

Dorothy  felt  that  she  ought  to  be  severely  reproving; 
instead  of  that  her  eyes  filled  with  sympathetic  tears. 
Lucky  that  Fidelia  laid  ?  It  seemed  to  Dorothy  a  blessed 
Easter  miracle— since  Miss  Crayshaw  said  she  had  laid 
her  litter — when  she  saw  MYaiidy's  shining  eyes. 

M'randy  had  come  out  wrapped  in  a  shawl  and  hood, 
although  the  April  air  was  mild.  The  Crasher  boy  drew 
the  shawl  tenderly  around  her  when  it  slipped  off.  Her 
little  sharp  eager  face  with  its  pain-knitted  brows  was 
transfigured  with  delight. 

"An  Easter  egg  and  a  lily  too!  I  don't  know  as  I 
ever  had  just  what  other  folks  have  before!"  she  cried, 
joyfully.  "And  will  the  egg  really  hatch?  Shall  I 
have  a  peacock  of  my  own?" 

Dorothy  could  not  answer  for  the  success  of  the  white 
turkey's  ministrations,  but  she  made  a  mental  calculation 
with  the  aim  of  securing  her  services  without  delay. 

"You  may  come  in  if  you  want  to, "said  M'randy,  gra- 
ciously, as  Dorothy  paused  at  the  door.  "I  don't  want 
folks  that  think  Phil  is  a  bad  boy, "she  continued,  with  a 
certain  defiance — in  spite  of  the  lily. 

Dorothy  hesitated  only  a  moment,  then  she  walked  in. 


"  He  ought  not  to  have  borrowed  the  pea- 
hen. He's  like  our  boys — mixed,"  she  said. 
It  was  a  clean  little  place,  although 
M'randy  was  ill,  and  there  were  signs 
that  the  household  affairs  were  attended 
to  after  a  boy's  fashion.  There  were  some 
signs  of  refinement,  which  surprised  Dor- 
othy, until  she  took  a  book  from  the  ta- 
ble and  read  the  name  Eustace  Cray- 
shaw;  there  were  other  books  with  the 
same  surname.  Crayshaw  —  Crasher. 
Dorothy,  who  had  never  thought  of  the 
resemblance,  felt  bewildered. 

"We've    got     called    Crasher,    living 
amongst     poor     folks,"    said     the    boy. 
'  'Twas  our  grandfather  that  owned  all 
these  mills  once." 

"Then  you— you're  a  relation  to  Miss 
Crayshaw?"  cried  Dorothy. 

The  Crasher  boy  nodded  indifferently. 
"She  wouldn't  want  any  tiling  to  do  with 
us — unless  'twas  to  chuck  me  into  jail!" 
he  said. 

"  Your  father  was  Eustace  Crayshaw?" 
repeated  Dorothy,  still  bewildered ;  and 
the  boy  nodded  again. 

"He  was  little  Eustace  to  me, "Miss 
Crayshaw  had  said. 

Dorothy  walked  home  on  air;  perhaps 
it  was  too  good  to  come  true — the  de- 
lightful dream  that  filled  her  brain;  but 
the  world  seemed  full  of  spring  and  joy. 
Was  any  dream  or  hope  too  great  for 
Easter- tide? 

But  the  dream  didn't  seem  likely  to 
come  true  when  Dorothy  told  Miss  Cray- 
shaw of  her  discovery.  She  wondered 
afterwards  how  she  dared  to  do  it;  she 
said  to  herself  that  she  never  should  have 
dared  if  she  hadn't  done  it  at  white  heat, 
and  if  it  hadn't  been  Easter!  For  Miss 
Crayshaw  was  very  proud,  and  the  father 
of  these  children  was  her  brother  who 
had  disgraced  his  family.  She  turned 
white  and  was  rigidly  silent,  and  after- 
wards for  weeks  she  turned  her  head  away  when  Doro- 
thy went  near  the  garden  fence. 

The  white  turkey  performed  her  task  as  successfully  as 
if  she  had  been  born  to  the  proud  mission  of  mothering 
peacocks,  and  was  soon  followed  about  by  a  queer,  long- 
legged,  straggling  fowl,  whose  harsh  voice  she  tried  in 
vain  to  soften  to  a  throaty  gobble. 

A  sad  fatality  carried  Fidelia  off  that  summer — it  was 
the  mowing-machine — and  Miss  Crayshaw  took  to  her  bed. 
She  had  been  ailing  before;  old  Wimbledon  expressed 
the  suspicion  that  "  her  mind  was  troubling  her." 

People  were  inclined  to  laugh  because  Miss  Crayshaw 
was  so  afflicted  by  her  peahen's  death.  But  there  was 
one  person  who  did  not  laugh — M'randy. 

One  day  Miss  Crayshaw  was  astonished  to  see  M'ran- 
dy with  a  gawky,  straggling,  squawking  creature  in  her 
arms.  Only  its  voice  and  a  little  sprouting  blue  and 
gold  about  its  wings  proclaimed  it  a  peacock. 

"  It's  for  you  ! — for  I  know  how  it  feels  to  be  lonesome 
without  much  of  anybody  that  belongs  to  you,"  said 
M'randy. 

With  firmness  born  of  a  mighty  self-sacrifice  Miss 
Crayshaw  turned  away  from  her,  and  walked  heavily  to 
and  fro  on  the  piazza.  Suddenly  she  returned,  took  the 
little  sharp  chin  in  her  hand,  and  smoothed  the  thin 
wispy  hair  over  the  crooked  back.  "You  are  the  Crasher 
boy's  sister?" she  said,  hoarsely.  "Go  and  bring  him 
here.  I  am  going  to  take  you  both  home!" 


SNOW-SHOES    AND     SLEDGES. 


A    Sequel    to    "The    Fur-Seal's    Tooth." 

BY     KIRK     M  UN  ROE, 
AUTHOR  OF  "  DORYMATES,"  "CAMPMATES,"  "  RAFTMATES,"  "  CANOEMATES,"  ETC. 


N 


CHAPTER    XI. 
THE    BOYS    CARRY   THEIR    POINT. 

EVER  in  his  life  had  Phil  Ryder  been   more   per- 


lato   is    a  good    one   hundred   and     fifty    miles   beyond 
here." 

"Isn't   it?"   laughed    the   missionary.      "  Ancl,  to  cap 
the  climax,  the  same  runner  that  brought  that  informa- 


plexed  than   he   was   at   the   astonishing   statement     tion  announced  that  you  would  undoubtedly  be  frozen 


just  made  by  Kurilla.  It  was  incredible  that  his  father 
should  be  in  that  country.  Why  should  he  be?  There 
had  been  barely  time  for  him  to  receive  the  letter  sent 
out  by  Nikrik,  and  he  could  not  possibly  have  reached 
the  Yukon  Valley  since  then. 

"How  do  you  know  it  is  my  father?"  he  demanded  of 
the  native.  "Has  he  been  here?  Did  you  see  him? 
Why  didn't  he  wait  until  I  came  back?" 

"Him  no  come.  Him  go  up  river.  Me  no  see  him. 
You  fadder?  Yaas." 

"What  can  the  man  mean?"  asked  Phil,  in  despair  of 
obtaining  any  intelligible  explanation  and  turning  to  the 
missionary  for  aid. 

From  that  time  until  they  reached  the  station,  which 


in  before  you  had  gone  much  further,  whereupon  Phil's 
father  began  making  preparations  to  follow  and  overtake 
you  by  dog-sledges.  He  started  the  day  before  our  in- 
formant left  the  Redoubt,  and  was  accompanied  by  two 
other  white  men,  though  whether  one  of  them  was  he 
•who  also  came  on  the  schooner,  Kurilla  did  not  find  out. 
So  there  you  have  the  whole  story  as  straight  as  it  can 
be  obtained  ;  but,  considering  the  channels  through  which 
it  has  come,  there  is  such  an  opportunity  for  errors  that 
I  should  not  be  at  all  surprised  if  a  number  had  crept 
into  it." 

"Nor  I,"  admitted  Phil,  "though  I  can't  doubt  that 
my  father  has  arrived  in  this  part  of  the  country,  impos- 
sible as  it  may  seem,  for  surely  no  one  else  could  have 


they  found  in  a  state  of  excitement  over  the  news,  the  mis-     any  object  in  announcing  himself  as  my  father,  or  going 


sionary  questioned  Kurilla  in  his  own  tongue,  and  by  the 
time  they  were  inside  the  house  he  had  gleaned  all  the 
information  the  Indian  possessed. 

"  He  says,"  began  the  missionary,  turning  to  his  eager     goose  chase  after  me.      I  fancy  I  can  see  him  at  this  mo- 
audience,    "that  he   obtained   his  news  from    a   Nulato     ment  politely  trying  to  breathe  or  to  swallow  raw  seal  in 


to  such  trouble  in  hunting  me  up.  Nor  can  I  doubt  that 
having  conceived  some  absurd  notion  that  I  am  likely  to 
get  into  trouble,  the  dear  old  pop  has  set  forth  on  a  wild- 


Indian,  who  left  St.  Michaels  only  three  days  ago,  and 
came  by  way  of  the  Divide  and  the  Anvik  River.  He  is 
a  friend  of  Kurilla,  and  spent  a  couple  of  hours  with 
him  this  morning,  after  which  he  continued  his  journey. 
According  to  him,  as  understood  by  Kurilla,  a  schooner 
containing  Phil's  father  and  another  white  man  reached 
the  Redoubt  soon  after  the  Chirno  left.  The  other  white 
man  was  sick,  so  that  none  of  the  natives  saw  him;  but 
Phil's  father  spent  his  whole  time  making  inquiries  of 
every  one  about  the  boys,  and  where  they  had  gone, 
what  sort  of  a  man  they  had  gone  with,  and  what  chance 
there  was  of  overtaking  them." 

"  I  am  afraid  he  did  not  receive  a  very  flattering  de- 
scription of   the   man   they    had   gone   with,"  remarked 
Gerald  Hamer,  who  was 
by  this   time   out   of    the 
hospital  and  able  to  join 
the  pleasant  family  circle. 

"About  that  same 
time,"  continued  the  mis- 
sionary, "  the  revenue- 
cutter  Bear  came  down 
from  the  northward, 
bringing  the  crew  of  a 
wrecked  whaler,  so  that 


some  native  hut,  or  careering  over  the  river  behind  a 
team  of  runaway  dogs,  or  wrestling  with  the  intricacies 
of  an  Eskimo  whip,  or  having  some  of  the  other  delight- 
ful experiences  that  he  is  certain  to  encounter.  There 
is  one  thing  that  won't  bother  him,  though,  and  that  is 
snow-shoeing,  for  he  learned  that  long  ago  in  Canada.'' 

"  How  fond  he  must  be  of  you,"  said  the  missionary's 
wife. 

"Yes,  indeed,  he  is!"  cried  Phil.  "And  I  of  him, 
for  we  are  everything  in  the  world  to  each  other." 

"And  how  anxious  he  must  be,"  murmured  the 
teacher. 

"  I  suppose  so;  though  I  don't  see  why  he  should  be,  for 
he  taught  me  to  take  care  of  myself  long  ago.  I  am  be- 


for   a    while    there 
many     white 


were 

men    and 

much  confusion  at  St. 
Michaels.  Then  both  the 
Bear  and  the  schooner 
sailed  away,  taking  most 
of  the  white  men  with 
them,  but  Phil's  father 
staid  behind.  By-and-by 
news  came  from  Nulato 
that  the  Chi'itto  had  pass- 
ed that  point  without 
stopping,  on  her  way  up 
the  river." 

"Which  is  news  in- 
deed," muttered  Gerald 
Hamer,  "  seeing  that  Nu- 


THE   EXHIBITION    DRILL    AT    ANVIK. 


394 


HAEPEK'S    YOUNG    PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


ginning  to  get  pretty  anxious  about  him,  though,  and  it 
seems  to  me  that  it  is  clearly  my  duty  to  organize  a  relief 
expedition  at  once  and  go  in  search  of  him.  What  do 
you  say  to  that,  Serge?" 

"  I  say  I  should  feel  exactly  as  you  do  if  he  were  my 
mother,"  answered  the  lad  from  Sitka,  who  was  imme- 
diately afterwards  covered  with  confusion  by  the  out- 
bursts of  merriment  that  greeted  his  remark. 

"I  mean — "  he  stammered. 

"Of  course,"  interrupted  Phil,  teasingly,  "we  under- 
stand. You  mean  that  if  my  father  were  your  mother, 
in  which  case  you  and  I  would  probably  be  brother  and 
sister,  you  would  feel  in  duty  bound  to  go  in  search  of 
him  or  her,  as  the  case  might  be." 

"  Oh,  you  get  out!"  laughed  Serge. 

"The  very  thing  I  am  proposing  to  do.  And,  really, 
Captain  Hamer,  now  that  my  father  has  appeared  on  the 
scene,  and  gone  up  the  river,  I  don't  see  how  you  can 
any  longer  have  an  excuse  for  refusing  to  let  Serge  and 
me  follow  after  him.  If  we  don't  overtake  him  this 
side  of  Fortv  Mile,  we  shall  certainly  find  him  there. 
Then  we  can  all  go  out  together  by  way  of  Chilkat,  and 
I  know  that  out  of  gratitude  for  your  great  kindness  to 
me,  if  for  no  other  reason,  my  father  will  gladly  under- 
take to  place  your  order  for  goods  in  San  Francisco." 

"Your  argument  is  certainly  a  strong  one,"  admitted 
Gerald  Hamer,  hesitatingly,  "and  it  really  begins  to 
look  as  though  you  had  gained  your  point  after  all." 

"And  we  ought  to  start  as  quickly  as  we  can, "urged 
Phil,  eagerly,  "in  order  to  relieve  my  father's  anxiety  as 
soon  as  possible,  and  also  to  prevent  him  from  getting 
lost,  which,  I  am  sure,  any  one  is  likely  to  do  on  the 
Yukon.  When  it  comes  to  procuring  dogs  for  the  trip, 
I  would  advise  you  to  buy  Kurilla's  team,  if  possible,  for 
I  give  you  my  word  they  are  far  and  away  the  very  best 
lot  of  haulers  I  have  ever  driven.  As  for  their  feed,  I 
was  invited  to  a  certain  wedding  to-day,  though  I  regret 
that  I  was  forced  to  decline  the  invitation,  that  resulted 
in  a  sledge-load  of  prime  dogfish — no,  I  don't  mean  that 
either,  for  they  were  salmon — which,  I  believe,  can  be 
bought  cheap." 

Thus  rattling  on  and  unhesitatingly  offering  advice  on 
all  subjects  connected  with  dog-sledging  and  snow-shoe- 
ing, even  going  so  far  as  to  express  the  opinion  that  for 
their  work  Norwegian  skis  would  be  far  better  than  the 
ordinary  snow-shoe  of  the  country,  Phil  succeeded 
within  a  few  minutes  in  establishing  the  fact  that  his 
long-cherished  expedition  was  really  to  be  undertaken. 

As  he  remarked  in  a  low  but  exultant  tone  to  Serge 
after  they  had  gone  to  bed  that  night:  "Hurrah  for 
snow-shoes  and  sledges,  old  man!  We  have  got  them 
at  last,  as  I  told  you  we  would  from  the  very  beginning." 

And  Serge,  who  was  almost  asleep,  roused  himself 
sufficiently  to  reply:  "What  did  you  say?  Oh  yes,  I 
know.  Hurrah!  Good-night." 

Whereupon  the  Yankee  lad  disgustedly  hurled  a  pillow 
at  him  with  such  force  as  to  effectually  banish  sleep  and 
provoke  a  retaliation  that  resulted  in  Phil's  bed  coming 
down  with  a  crash.  Upon  this  its  occupant  remarked 
that  he  always  did  despise  civilized  beds  anyhow,  and 
that  hemlock  boughs  in  front  of  a  rousing  camp-fire  were 
good  enough  for  him. 

In  the  mean  time  some  of  the  preliminaries  of  the  tre- 
mendous journey,  to  which  the  boys  looked  forward  with 
such  delight  and  their  elders  with  so  many  misgivings, 
had  been  arranged  that  very  evening.  The  best  obtain- 
able map  of  the  Yukon  was  studied,  and  marked  with 
such  private  information  as  was  possessed  by  the  mis- 
sionary. 

"If  you  could  only  overtake  them  before  reaching  the 
Tanana  River,"  he  said,  reflectively,  "you  might  cut  off 
the  great  arctic  bend  of  the  Yukon,  and  save  several  hun- 
dred miles  by  going  up  the  former  river,  crossing  a  di- 


vide to  a  branch  of  Forty  Mile  Creek,  and  following  it 
down  to  the  camp  at  its  mouth.  I  suppose,  though,  they 
will  have  passed  the  Tanana  long  before  you  get  there, 
and  so  you  will  be  obliged  to  follow  the  great  bend  for 
fear  of  missing  them." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  assented  Phil,  "but  I  don't  care.  The 
longer  the  trip  the  more  fun  we'll  have." 

"You  will  find  it  long  enough  before  you  get  through," 
remarked  Gerald  Hamer,  significantly. 

"I  hope  so,"  returned  the  irrepressible  lad.  "  I  like  to 
have  enough  of  a  good  thing." 

An  hour  or  more  was  devoted  to  making  out  a  list  of 
the  articles  necessary  for  the  trip.  While  from  then  un- 
til the  very  time  of  departure  Phil  kept  thinking  of  ami 
adding  new  items  to  this  list,  Serge  was  kept  equally  busy 
in  trying  to  reduce  its  length. 

Before  Kurilla  was  dismissed  that  evening,  both  he  and 
his  son  Chitsah  were  engaged  to  accompany  the  boys  at 
least  as  far  as  Forty  Mile,  a  distance  of  one  thousand 
miles,  though  beyond  that  point  they  would  not  promise 
to  go. 

From  Kurilla  also  Gerald  Hamer  agreed  to  purchase, 
at  his  own  price,  his  fine  team  of  dogs,  of  which  bushy- 
tailed  Musky  was  leader,  big  Amook  and  Mint  were  steer- 
dogs,  and  Luvtuk  and  Shag  completed  the  nimble-footed 
quintet.  This  was  hereafter  to  be  known  as  Phil's 
team,  for  having  already  had  some  experience  in  driving 
them,  it  was  believed  that  he  could  manage  them  belter 
than  dogs  unaccustomed  to  his  astonishing  pronunciation 
of  the  native  words  of  command.  Kurilla  was  to  bring 
them  to  him  the  very  next  morning  to  be  fed,  for  in  dog- 
sledging  it  is  a  rule  that  every  driver  shall  feed  his  own 
team,  in  order  to  win  their  regard  and  persuade  them  that 
he  is  not  an  unmitigated  evil. 

The  season  was  now  late  November,  and  though  the 
morrow  was  Thanksgiving  day,  or  believed  to  be  such  in 
absence  of  any  proclamation  to  that  effect,  it  was  to  be 
devoted  to  preparations,  and  the  start  was  to  be  made  at 
sunrise  of  the  following  morning.  Therefore  Phil's  last 
words  of  that  night  were, 

"I  am  dead  tired,  old  man,  but  I  want  you  to  wake 
me  early  all  the  same,  for  I  shall  have  only  one  day  in 
which  to  feed  my  dogs  and  teach  them  to  know  me." 

CHAPTER     XII. 
PHIL   FEEDS    HIS    DOGS. 

IT  did  not  seem  to  Phil  that  he  had  any  more  than 
closed  his  eyes  before  he  was  awakened  by  such  a  babel 
of  yelps  and  barkings  as  notified  him  that  further  sleep 
was  out  of  the  question,  and  also  that  his  dogs  were  wait- 
ing to  be  fed.  Hearty  imprecations  showered  on  the 
heads  of  the  vociferous  team  from  the  direction  of  Mr. 
Sims's  room  and  threats  to  treat  them  to  a  dose  of  duck- 
shot  so  hastened  Phil's  movements  that  in  a  few  seconds 
he  had  slipped  on  his  seal-skin  boots  and  fur  parka,  and 
was  outside  in  the  stinging  cold.  There  in  the  moon- 
light stood  Kurilla,  with  a  broad  grin  on  his  good-hu- 
mored face,  holding  in  leash  Phil's  team.  Every  mem- 
ber of  it,  but  big  Amook  loudest  of  all,  was  vigorously 
demanding  his  three  meals  of  the  day  before  and  the 
one  already  due  on  the  present  morning,  or  four  in  all. 

As  Phil  approached  his  team  he  called  to  Serge  to 
fetch  him  a  knife;  but  almost  as  he  uttered  the  words  he 
was  given  to  understand  that  it  was  not  needed. 

With  a  savage  spring  Amook  reached  his  side,  seized 
one  of  the  big  fish  in  his  powerful  jaws,  and  with  a  couple 
of  convulsive  gulpings  swallowed  it  whole.  Having  ac- 
complished this  feat  he  wagged  his  tail  cheerfully,  and 
looked  up  into  his  young  master's  face  as  much  as  to  say, 
"That  sample  was  so  good  that  I  think  I'll  take  some 
fish,  if  you  please." 

"Well,  if  you  aren't  an  ostrich!"  Phil  started  to  say; 


APRIL  9,  1S95. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


395 


but  even  as  he  opened  his  mouth  to  speak  he  was  over- 
thrown and  instantly  buried  beneath  an  avalanche  of 
dogs.  Incited  by  Amook's  brilliant  success,  Musky,  Mint, 
Shag-,  and  Luvtuk  followed  his  example,  while  the  dogs 
held  by  Chitsah  broke  loose  at  the  same  moment,  and  all 
projected  themselves  with  the  energy  of  living  catapults 
toward  the  single  flsli  that  Phil  still  held. 

Both  Kurilla  and  Chitsah  instantly  flung  themselves 
on  top  of  the  confused  mass  of  howling  animals,  and  for 
the  space  of  a  minute  the  scene  enacted  in  full  view  of 
the  aroused  inmates  of  the  station  was  equal  to  any  first- 
class  football  scrimmage.  Women  screamed,  while  men 
shouted  and  ran  toward  the  place  of  battle. 

In  another  minute  the  fierce  animals  had  been  torn 
apart,  flung  this  way  and  that,  and  were  sneaking  off  in 
so  many  different  directions  with  lowered  tails.  The  two 
Indians  were  breathlessly  but  calmly  readjusting  their 
disordered  garments,  the  salmon  had  disappeared,  and 
Phil,  sitting  on  the  hard-packed  snow,  was  tenderly  feel- 
ing different  parts  of  his  body. 

''Are  you  much  hurt,  old  man?"  cried  Serge,  anxiously, 
as  he  reached  his  friend's  side. 

"Serge,"  replied  Phil,  solemnly,  "  did  you  ever  hap- 
pen to  see  a  good  little  book  called  the  Franklin  Primer?" 
"  I  don't  think  I  ever  did.  Why '." 
"Because  it  contains  a  picture  that  you  would  do  well 
to  study.  The  picture  is  that  of  a  small  boy,  with  a  very 
anxious  expression,  hanging'  by  his  hands  from  the  outer 
end  of  a  branch  that  projects  over  a  tropical  river.  Im- 
mediately beneath  him  swim  a  dozen  open-mouthed  croc- 
odiles regarding  him  with  evident  expectancy.  Beneath 
the  picture  is  a  legend  to  the  effect  that  Johnny  is  about 
to  feed  his  pets.  Now  let's  turn  in  again  and  finish  out 
our  nap." 

But  there  was  too  much  to  be  done  that  day  to  admit 
of  further  sleeping,  and  both  lads  quickly  found  them- 
selves full  of  business.  To  begin  with,  stores  for  the  ex- 
pedition were  to  be  selected  and  carefully  packed.  Of 
these  the  largest  single  item  was  fish,  to  be  used  as  dog 
food,  and  with  this  one  sledge  was  wholly  laden.  Then 
came  flour,  tea,  sugar,  salt,  bacon,  hard  bread,  evaporated 
fruit,  a  package  of  fine  pemmican — which  is  made  of  dried 
and  pounded  moose  meat  mixed  with  berries  and  boiling 
fat  in  a  rawhide  bag,  where  it  becomes  perfectly  solid — 
oatmeal,  a  can  of  baking-powder,  molasses,  a  case  of 
canned  goods  for  special  occasions,  a  quantity  of  reindeer- 
back  fat,  to  be  used  in  place  of  butter  or  lard,  and  a  few 
pounds  of  tobacco  for  trading  with  Indians. 

For  cooking  utensils  there  was  first  and  most  impor- 
tant of  all  the  chynik,  or  copper  tea-kettle,  and  an  extra 
one  in  case  of  accident.  Then  came  a  long-handled  fry- 
pan,  a  large  iron  pot,  a  brass  kettle,  a  saucepan,  half  a 
dozen  tin  plates,  as  many  cups,  spoons,  and  forks.  Be- 
sides these  there  was  a  wash-basin,  and  each  man  carried 
a  knife  in  a  sheath  attached  to  his  belt. 

At  the  head  of  the  miscellaneous  list  came  a  fine  rifle 
for  Phil's  especial  use,  and  a  double-barrelled  shot-gun, 
with  an  ample  supply  of  fixed  ammunition  for  both.  Be- 
sides these  Kurilla  would  carry  his  well-beloved  old  flint- 
lock musket.  Then  came  three  axes,  one  for  each  sledge, 
two  hatchets,  a  case  of  awls,  another  of  needles,  a  supply 
of  stout  thread  and  sinew  for  sewing,  a  thermometer,  and 
a  bolt  of  cotton  cloth  to  be  used  as  wanted. 

Most  important  of  all  for  a  winter  journey  in  that  re- 
gion of  arctic  cold  was  the  outfit  of  fur  clothing  with 
which  each  of  the  boys  was  liberally  provided,  and  some 
of  which  was  made  that  very  day  by  the  nimble  fingers 
of  Indian  women.  In  each  case  this  consisted  of  a  round, 
close-fitting  fur  cap  of  marten-skin ;  a  heavy  caribou  par- 
ka, or  outer  shirt,  trimmed  with  wolverene  and  wolf  skin; 
an  inner  shirt  of  softest  fawn-skin,  trousers  of  Siberian 
reindeer,  boots  of  moose  shank  and  seal,  plenty  of  moc- 
casins and  fur-lined  arctic  socks,  and  two  pairs  of  mittens 


that  reached  to  the  elbow.  Of  these  the  outer  pair  was 
of  moose-hide,  lined  with  heavy  flannel,  while  the  inner 
pair,  the  right  hand  of  which  had  a  trigger  finger  as  well 
as  a  thumb,  was  made  of  lynx,  with  the  fur  inside. 

A  warm  sleeping-bag  for  each  boy  was  made  by  taking  ' 
a  fine  and  extra  heavy  Mackinaw  blanket,  lining  it  with 
marmot-skins,  fur  side  out.  covering  the  other  side  with 
stout  canvas  as  a  protection  against  sparks  and  the  wet 
of  melting  snow,  and  sewing  up  the  edges.  This,  with  a 
small  pillow  filled  with  geese  feathers  and  a  large  bear- 
skin, constituted  an  arctic  bed  in  which  one  might  sleep 
out-of-doors  with  comfort  in  the  coldest  weather. 

These  things,  together  with  snow-shoes  and  native 
snow-goggles,  made  of  wood  pierced  with  a  long  slit  and 
blackened  on  the  inside,  completed  the  outfit  of  our 
young  travellers.  They  were  to  use  the  iii[/a1ik,  or  regu- 
lar Yukon  sledge,  which  is  much  lighter  than  the  Eski- 
mo, or  coast  sledge,  but  heavier  and  stronger  than  the 
Hudson  Bay  toboggan  commonly  used  in  the  inte- 
rior. 

The  getting  together  of  these  things  occupied  all  hands 
for  the  greater  part  of  the  day,  though  after  satisfying- 
himself  as  to  his  outfit  of  fur  garments,  Phil  left  the  rest 
to  Serge  and  Gerald  Hamer,  for  he  had  another  very  im- 
portant duty  to  perform.  This  was  arranging  the  exhi- 
bition drill  of  his  native  soldier  boys,  who  had  looked 
forward  to  it  with  such  eagerness  that  he  could  not  bear 
to  disappoint  them. 

Noon  was  the  hour  appointed  for  this  most  important 
event,  and  by  that  hour  the  space  reserved  for  spectators 
was  occupied  by  every  inhabitant  of  the  native  vil- 
lage. 

For  some  minutes  the  excitement  was  kept  at  fever 
heat  by  strange  sounds  issuing  from  behind  the  closed 
school  -  house  doors,  where  the  company  was  forming. 
Then  the  door  was  flung  open,  and  to  the  measured  beat- 
ing of  a  drum  the  dusky  company  marched  forth  in 
single  file,  headed  by  Big  Sidorka.  who  still  wore  the 
badge  of  honor  that  made  him  the  envied  of  all  his  fel- 
lows. Phil  came  last,  and  at  his  command  of,  "Com- 
pany, halt!  Right  face!  Eight  dress!  'Tention!"  the 
long  line  stood  straight  and  motionless  facing  their  awe- 
stricken  relatives. 

Then  came  in  rapid  succession  the  sharp  crisp  orders 
now  so  familiar  to  nearly  every  school-boy  in  the  United 
States,  but  never  before  heard  by  the  public  of  Anvik: 
"Present  arms!  Carry  arms!  Right  shoulder  arms!" 
and  the  rest,  until  every  movement  of  the  manual  had 
been  executed  with  a  promptness  and  precision  that  drew 
forth  a  storm  of  applause  from  the  delighted  spectators. 
But  when  Phil  handed  his  wooden  sword  to  Sergeant 
Sidorka,  and  the  company  was  put  through  the  same 
drill  without  a  mistake  by  one  of  their  own  number,  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  on-lookers  knew  no  bounds. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  exercises  Phil  promoted  Ser- 
geant Sidorka  to  the  captaincy. 

That  evening  Gerald  Hamer  gave  Phil  a  list  of 
goods  that  the  Chimo  would  take  to  the  Forty  Mile  Min- 
ing Camp  in  the  spring,  and  the  prices  at  which  they 
would  be  sold.  He  also  gave  him  money  enough  to  de- 
fray the  expenses  of  a  trip  to  San  Francisco,  and  a  long- 
letter  of  instruction  to  the  agent  of  the  new  trading- 
company  in  that  city.  This  Phil  was  to  supplement  by 
a  verbal  statement  of  the  condition  of  affairs  in  the  Yu- 
kon diggings,  and  the  class  of  goods  most  in  demand. 

Thus  was  everything  made  ready  for  the  morrow  011 
which  Phil  and  Serge  were  to  set  forth  on  a  miihvini'-i 
search  through  the  vast  Alaskan  wilderness  for  the  for- 
mer's dearly  loved  father,  and  begin  the  tremendous  jour- 
ney which  they  hoped  would  carry  them  to  the  very 
head-waters  of  the  Yukon,  and  finally  laud  them  in  green 
Sitka  town. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


396 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


A    MODEL   POULTRY    HOUSE. 

EAISING  AND   KEEPING    OF   PETS. 

CHICKENS    AND    THE    CHICKEN-COOP. 

BY   E.  CHASE. 

THE  poultry  house  I  have  drawn  here  has  all  the  ne- 
cessary requirements  of  a  practical  house,  and  at  the 
same  time  it  is  easy  to  construct. 

The  outline  drawing  is,  I  think,  so  simple  that  it  does 
not  require  much  explanation.  The  house  is  six  and 
three-quarter  feet  high  at  the  peak  of  the  roof,  which 
gives  the  owner  room  to  stand  up  when  cleaning  it. 
This  is  an  advantage,  as  cleanliness  is  one  of  the  most 
necessary  things  towards  keeping  the  fowls  healthy. 

The  window,  which  is  a  single  greenhouse  sash,  is  ar- 
ranged so  as  to  admit  as  much  light  as  possible.  It 
should  face  the  south,  so  that  in  winter  the  interior  of 
the  house  will  receive  the  full  benefit  of  the  sun. 

The  floor  should  be  raised  three  or  four  inches  from 
the  ground.  It  measures  five  and  a  half  feet  square,  which 
is  enough  room  for  half  a  dozen  hens.  On  the  floor  are 
placed  the  nests.  These  you  will  notice  have  a  shelf  over 
them  (Fig.  3)  just  far  enough  above  the  nests  to  allow 
the  hen  to  get  in  and  out  comfortably,  and  slightly  over- 
hanging. Tbe  object  of  a  nest  like  this  is  to  give  the  hen 
a  feeling  of  secrecy,  which  she  greatly  appreciates.  Fill 
'  the  nests  with  clean  straw,  and  in  each  one  place  a  nest- 
egg. 

Over  the  nests,  from 
two  and  a  half  to  three 
feet,  place  the  roosts. 
Have  them  set  firmly  into 
cleats,  fastened  to  the 
sides  of  the  house,  so  that 
they  can  be  removed 
when  it  is  necessary  to  go 
into  the  house  to  clean 
it.  Keep  the  floor  sprin- 
kled with  sawdust,  and 
whitewash  the  interior 
of  the  house  once  every 
two  or  three  months. 

The  yard  is  eight  and 


a  half  feet  long  by  five 
and  a  half  feet  wide,  at 
the  farther  end  of  which 
is  a  gate.  I  should  ad- 
vise covering  the  top  of 
the  yard,  as  well  as  the 
sides  and  end,  with  wire 
netting,  as  it  both  guards 
against  any  of  your  fowls 
getting  away  or  stray 
cats  or  animals  getting 
in. 

In  summer-time  I 
should  advise  stretching 
a  canvas  over  the. yard, 
to  protect  the  chickens 
from  the  sun.  Dig  up  the 
yard  frequently,  as  it 
gives  the  chickens  some- 
thing to  do  to  scratch  for 
worms,  etc. 

In  feeding,  the  follow- 
ing diet  is  a  very  good 
one,  but  it  can  be  varied, 
as  circumstances  admit. 
In  the  morning  give 
them  corn  meal,  mixed 
with  enough  hot  water 
to  make  a  thick  "mush," 
and  add  a  very  little  red 

pepper  in  winter.  At  noon-time  give  them  whatever  the 
cook  has  to  spare — pieces  of  bread,  bones,  etc.,  etc.,  and  at 
night,  corn,  wheat,  or  in  fact  any  grain,  sprinkled  about, 
so  that  the  chickens  will  have  to  hunt  for  it. 

Chickens  are  subject  to  a  number  of  diseases.  When- 
ever one  goes  about  sneezing,  rasping  at  the  throat,  or 
showing-  signs  of  disease,  separate  it  from  the  others,  and 
keep  it  in  a  separate  coop.  If  it  does  not  show  signs  of 
improvement,  it  is  better  to  wring  its  neck  than  to  have 
it  spread  disease  to  the  rest  of  the  flock. 

•About  the  kind  of  chickens  to  keep,  that  is  best  de- 
cided by  the  fancier  himself.  When  I  commenced  to 
raise  chickens,  I  had  only  two  common  hens  and  a 
rooster.  As  soon  as  the  hens  showed  signs  of  setting,  I 
purchased  some  "buff  Cochin"  eggs  (as  that  was  the 
kind  of  chicken  I  had  set  my  heart  upon),  and  from  these 
I  secured  as  fine  a  yard  of  birds  as  one  would  wish  to  see. 
They  attracted  the  notice  of  people  round  about,  and  I 
had  no  difficulty  in  selling  both  the  eggs  and  chickens  at 
prices  higher  than  are  usually  paid  for  poultry.  A  set- 
ting of  eggs  (thirteen)  is  worth  from  one  to  two  dollars, 
according  to  the  time  of  year.  There  are  papers  pub- 
lished exclusively  for  the  poultry  trade.  In  these  you 
will  find  advertisements  of  people  who  have  eggs  for  sale. 

Do  not  have  the  hens  and  roosters  related.  Trade  the 
roosters  off  with  some  fancier  who  keeps  the  same  kind 
as  yourself.  He  will  be  only  too  glad  to  do  so,  as  it  is  an 
advantage  to  him  as  well. 


oo 


Scale  -    3ft 


FlG.    1. 


FIG.  2. 


APRIL  9,  1S95. 


RASPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


397 


FIG.  3. 

Keep  a  box  of  pounded  oyster  or  clam  shells  where 
the  chickens  can  get  at  it,  also  a  pan  of  fresh  water 
handy. 

JOE   GRIFFIN'S   GREAT   JUMP. 

BY  W.  J.  HENDERSON. 

"  ri^HE  Marshal  would  give  a  foot  to  get  the  plans  of 

J_    that  fort." 

''  I  know  it,  and  I  wish  we  could  wipe  his  eye  by  get- 
ting them  for  him." 

The  speakers  were  Hikoiclii  Len  and  Matsada  Orita,  two 
junior  officers  on  the  Japanese  cruiser  Yed-Sin.  For  sev- 
eral weeks  the  vessel  had  been  cruising 
in  the  waters  off  Port  Arthur,  awaiting 
the  decisive  moment  when  the  army  was 
to  effect  a  combination  with  the  navy  in 
an  attempt  to  capture  that  important 
stronghold.  All  that  the  plans  now 
lacked  of  completion  was  the  knowledge 
of  the  interior  arrangements  of  a  certain 
fort,  the  most  formidable  of  those  which 
guarded  the  entrance  to  the  harbor. 

The  sun  was  sinking  red  and  threaten- 
ing, sending  long  wavering  streamers  of 
crimson  across  the  undulating  surface 
of  the  sea.  The  crimson  rays  fell  upon 
the  polished  brass-work  of  the  Yed-Sin. 
and  made  it  gleam  like  iron  in  the  forge, 
while  they  lit  up  the  dark  shiny  chases 
of  her  guns  with  a  fitful  glare.  The 
cruiser  was  rolling  uneasily  as  she 
slipped  slowly  along  at  a  four-knot  gait. 
She  was  waiting  within  signalling-dis- 
tance of  the  shore  for  a  communication 
from  a  party  that  had  been  sent  ashore 
to  try  to  get  a  message  through  to  the 
advance  column  of  the  army. 

"I  fear  that  the  expedition  will  be  a 
failure,"  said  Len. 

"  Why?"  asked  Orita. 

"Because  that  young  American  is 
witli  it." 

"  Oh,  Griffin?  Well,  he  is  a  little  too 
bold  in  his  ventures,  but  somehow  he 
has  a  faculty  of  landing  on  his  feet." 

"Hello!  There  goes  a  green  rocket. 
That  means  that  the  party  is  in  trouble." 

It  was  true.  Away  over  on  the  laud 
some  miles  back  of  Port  Arthur  a  green 
rocket  had  soared  into  the  air.  The 
next  instant  the  engine  -  room  bells 
clanged,  and  the  Yed- Sin's  propellers 
turned  up  to  full  speed.  As  the  cruiser 
gathered  headway  the  bugles  sounded, 
"Arm  and  away  for  distant  service," 
meaning  that  a  landing  party  was  to  be 
sent  out  to  the  rescue.  For  several  min- 


utes there  was  a  general  bustle  about  the  deck  as  some  men 
went  to  their  stations,  and  others  hastened  to  provide  the 
necessary  equipments  for  the  boats.  The  cruiser,  mean- 
while, steamed  steadily  ahead,  and  in  the  course  of  half 
an  hour  was  within  a  mile  of  the  shore.  Here  she  came 
to  a  stop,  and  orders  were  given  to  lower  away  the  boats. 
At  that  instant  a  red  rocket  shot  up  from  the  beach. 

"Avast  there!"  cried  the  Executive  Officer.  "Keep 
fast  with  the  boats." 

The  red  rocket  meant  that  the  signal  party  had  es- 
caped and  was  coming  off.  Rapid  firing  of  small  arms 
followed  the  ascent  of  the  rocket,  but  it  ceased  in  a  few 
minutes,  and  all  was  silent,  till  the  puffing  of  the  steam- 
launch  which  had  taken  the  party  in  was  heard.  Two 
or  three  minutes  later  the  party  came  aboard,  and  the  of- 
ficer in  charge  of  it  reported  that  all  had  escaped  except 
the  American  cadet,  Griffin,  who  had  resigned  from  the 
United  States  navy  to  enter  that  of  Japan. 

"We  were  in  a  deep  ravine,  well  sheltered  by  woods," 
he  said,  "and  were  making  our  way  cautiously,  when  I 
heard  a  suspicious  sound  to  our  left.  I  knew  that  the 
army  column  was  a  long  distance  away  on  our  right,  and 
so  I  ordered  every  one  to  keep  the  strictest  silence.  I 
was  endeavoring  to  select  a  suitable  man  to  send  forward 
to  reconnoitre, when  I  missed  Griffin.  I  remembered  then 
that  he  had  always  burned  for  an  opportunity  for  per- 
sonal distinction,  and  I  was  sure  that  he  had  slipped  away 
to  make  observations  oil  his  own  account.  I  foresaw  the 


GOODNESS!"  EXCLAIMED    THE    OFFICER,    "IT    IS    GRIFFIN." 


398 


HAKPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


result,  and  at  once  gave  orders  to  retreat  as  quietly  as 
possible  to  the  boat.  My  conclusion  was  justified  five 
minutes  later,  when  a  shot  was  heard  in  our  rear  and  fire 
was  opened  on  us.  If  we  had  remained  in  the  ravine  we 
would  have  been  captured.  As  for  Griffin,  I  am  sure  he 
walked  right  into  the  arms  of  the  enemy." 

The  officer  was  commended  for  his  judgment  and  en- 
ergy. The  Executive  Officer  frowned  when  he  mentioned 
Griffin's  name,  and  then  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  I  don't  wonder  lie  shrugs  his  shoulders,"  said  Len. 

"Nor  I,"  responded  Orita.  "We  shall  never  see  the 
unhappy  American  boy  again." 

Joe  Griffin,  with  his  hands  tied  behind  his  back  and  a 
bandage  over  his  eyes,  had  just  come  to  a  similar  conclu- 
sion. He  had,  indeed,  walked  straight  into  the  arms  of  a 
party  of  Chinese  scouts  sent  out  to  watch  the  Japanese  land- 
ing party.  If  he  had  not  left  his  companions,  they  might 
have  passed  the  scouts  unnoticed  in  the  darkness.  Now 
the  landing  expedition  had  failed,  and  he  was  being  led 
over  roots  and  rocks  a  prisoner.  He  had  no  idea  where 
he  was  going,  but  he  felt  pretty  sure  that  he  would  never 
come  back,  for  the  Chinese  had  an  unpleasant  way  of 
murdering  prisoners  taken,  as  he  was,  on  the  pretext  that 
they  were  spies.  For  two  hours  the  rough  march  con- 
tinued, and  then  Joe  heard  the  challenge  of  sentries  and 
was  aware  that  they  were  entering  an  armed  post.  Day 
was  breaking,  and  when  the  bandage  was  removed  from 
his  eyes  he  saw  in  the  brief  time  he  had  that  he  was  in- 
side of  a  strong  fort.  A  hasty  glance  through  an  em- 
brasure showed  him  the  sea,  and,  far  away  upon  the 
horizon,  the  sharply  outlined  form  of  the  Yed-Sin. 

"  Great  Scott!"  he  exclaimed,  mentally.  "I'm  in  the 
very  fort  of  which  they  want  the  plans  so  badly." 

He  had  no  further  time  for  thought,  for  they  led  him 
to  his  prison.  It  was  a  simple  kind  of  jail.  It  was  a 
rude  wooden  hut  built  against  the  wall  of  the  fort  on  the 
side  furthest  from  the  sea.  Joe  noted,  as  he  entered  it, 
that  it  was  close  to  an  embrasure  through  which  he  could 
see  a  large  bay. 

"I  understand,"  he  thought.  "  This  fort  stands  on  the 
extreme  end  of  the  point  of  entrance  to  the  harbor  of 
Port  Arthur.  But  how  on  earth  am  I  to  profit  by  that 
knowledge?" 

Once  inside  the  prison,  Joe  found  that  there  were  nu- 
merous crevices  through  which  he  could  see  the  interior 
of  the  fort. 

"  I  wonder  how  long  I  have  to  live?"  he  reflected. 
"  Anyhow,  I'm  going  to  be  prepared  for  any  fate." 

So  saying  he  began  to  rummage  through  the  pockets 
•of  his  coat. 

"Oh,  dear!"  he  exclaimed,  "I  have  not  a  scrap  of 
paper  nor  a  pencil." 

Then  he  went  through  his  trousers  pockets. 

"Hello!  What's  this?  A  box  of  matches.  Oh,  I  re- 
member; I  put  them  there  when  I  started,  thinking  we 
might  need  them  if  we  camped  out.  They'll  do  for  pen- 
cils; and  this  is  as  good  as  paper." 

He  stripped  himself  of  his  shirt,  and  tore  a  small  piece 
out  of  its  light  bosom. 

"  Now  let's  see  what  we  can  see,"  he  murmured,  apply- 
ing his  eye  to  a  crack.  "That's  the  south  front  over 
there.  I've  got  to  make  this  plan  mighty  small,  haven't 
I?  If  I  don't,  I  shall  not  be  able  to  conceal  it  in  case  I 
do  get  a  chance  to  escape.  They  don't  seem  to  be  watch- 
ing me  very  closely,  either;  but  it's  just  like  them." 

At  that  instant  he  heard  a  noise  at  the  door,  and  he  had 
barely  time  to  thrust  his  piece  of  linen  into  a  crack  be- 
fore a  Chinese  officer  entered,  followed  by  a  soldier  bear- 
ing some  food. 

"You  hungry?"  asked  the  officer,  in  a  dialect  known 
to  both  parties  in  the  war. 

:i  Yes,"'answered  Joe. 

"Good.     Eat.     To-morrow,  sunrise,  you  head  cut  off." 


Joe  looked  around  nervously. 

"  No  escape,"  continued  the  officer.  "Three  sides  of 
fort  water.  Fort  eighty  feet  high  on  rocks  —  straight 
down — water  very  deep.  Other  side  woods — full  of  our 
soldiers.  No  escape." 

The  officer  smiled,  and,  with  the  soldier,  departed. 

"  Many  thanks  for  your  information,"  said  Joe.  "So 
we're  eighty  feet  up  on  perpendicular  rocks,  with  plenty 
of  water  at  the  bottom,  eh?  How  high  did  they  tell  me 
the  Constellation's  foretopsail-yard  was?" 

Joe  sat  in  a  brown-study  for  some  time.  Then  he  sud- 
denly exclaimed : 

"  I'll  try  it,  if  I  get  half  a  chance." 

He  set  to  work  again  with  fresh  energy  at  his  plan  of 
the  fort,  making  it  as  small  as  possible.  When  it  was 
done  he  folded  it  up  tightly.  Next  he  ripped  out  the 
light  leather  lining  of  his  cap,  and  tearing  off  a  small 
piece  folded  it  around  his  little  plan.  With  great  patience 
he  now  picked  a  long  thread  out  of  one  of  the  seams  of 
his  shirt,  and  with  this  tied  his  diminutive  package  se- 
curely. 

"Will  it  go?"  he  muttered. 

He  put  it  in  his  mouth. 

"It  goes,"  he  thought,  with  a  smile,  "and  room  to 
spare.  Thanks  be  to  nature  for  giving  me  a  big  mouth." 

The  day  passed  very  slowly  indeed  for  Joe.  As  night 
approached  he  became  more  and  more  anxious.  At  sun- 
down he  discovered  that  two  sentinels  were  posted  out- 
side his  hut,  and  thatfthey  began  to  walk  up  and  down  in 
such  a  way  that  they  were  at  opposite  ends  of  their  posts 
at  the  same  time. 

"That's  good,"  said  Joe,  as  he  set  to  work  at  the  fast- 
enings of  the  door. 

He  had  only  bis  knife,  but  it  served  his  purpose,  and 
by  ten  o'clock  he  was  ready  to  make  his  attempt.  But  at 
that  hour  the  sentries  were  still  too  wide  awake,  and  there 
were  too  many  persons  stirring  about  the  enclosure. 
So  he  gritted  his  teeth,  and,  gripping  his  little  packet  in 
his  hand,  walked  up  and  down  anxiously.  The  hours 
crawled  on  leaden  feet,  but  still  they  did  pass;  arid  about 
one  o'clock  in  the  morning'  Joe  decided  that  the  sentinels 
were  sleepy  enough  for  his  purpose.  He  took  off  his 
shoes  and  stockings  and  his  trousers,  and  stood  in  his 
light  underclothing. 

"  I  believe  the  old  Constellation's  tops'1-yard  was  about 
sixty,  and  this  is  eighty.  I  don't  think  twenty  feet  more 
will  make  much  difference  when  it's  for  life.  What's 
the  use  of  being  the  champion  diver  and  long-distance 
swimmer  of  the  Academy  if  you  can't —  Well,  here  goes." 

The  sentinels  were  lounging  drowsily  at  the  farther 
ends  of  their  posts.  Joe  loosened  the  last  slight  fasten- 
ing, swung  the  door  gently  back,  put  his  little  packet  in 
his  mouth,  drew  two  or  three  long  breaths,  shut  his 
teeth,  and  jumped  out. 

His  first  bound  took  him  to  the  corner  of  the  hut.  His 
second  carried  him  into  the  embrasure  beside  the  muzzle 
of  the  big  gun.  For  a  single  instant  he  steadied  himself; 
then  he  jumped  straight  out  into  the  blackness. 

Down,  down  he  went,  the  air  rushing  past  his  ears  with 
a  roar  like  thunder.  But  he  realized  that  he  was  holding 
his  balance  and  falling  feet  first,  and  the  old  thrill  of  ex- 
citement ran  through  him  again  as  he  renewed  the  sensa- 
tions of  his  famous  Academy  jumps  from  the  foretopsail- 
yard. 

Crash ! 

He  was  in  the  water,  shooting  toward  the  bottom  at 
terrific  speed.  Now  he  turned  the  soles  of  his  feet  flat 
against  the  water,  and  spread  out  the  palms  of  his  hands. 
Gradually  he  came  to  a  stop,  and  began  to  rise.  A  few 
downward  strokes  helped  him.  But  he  was  almost  spent. 
He  could  feel  the  throbbings  of  his  heart  and  the  heavy 
surging  of  the  blood,  while  his  chest  heaved  with  the  con- 
vulsive struggles  of  his  lungs  to  breathe.  Stars  began  to 


APRIL  9,  1S95. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


399 


dance  before  his  eyes,  and  the  poor  boy  -was  ready  to 
open  his  mouth  and  drown,  when,  to  his  intense  joy,  his 
head  shot  out  of  the  water.  He  turned  on  his  back  and 
floated  for  a  few  moments  to  rest  himself.  He  listened 
intently.  Yes,  there  were  noises  in  the  air  above  him. 
His  escape  was  discovered.  He  swam  right  in  to  the  foot 
of  the  cliff,  and  was  fortunate  enough  to  find  a  projection 
on  which  he  could  rest  in  the  deep  shadow.  He  remain- 
ed there  only  a  few  minutes.  He  slipped  into  the  water 
again,  and  swam  around  the  point  to  the  sea-front  of  the 
fort.  Fortunately  there  was  hardly  any  sea  on,  and  he 
found  another  projection,  on  which  he  rested  for  a  time. 

"  If  they  think  I'm  in  the  water," he  reflected,  "they'll 
search  for  me  on  the  other  side." 

The  boy  took  a  good  rest,  made  sure  that  he  was  not 
hurt,  and  then  started  on  his  long  swim  along  shore.  He 
finally  passed  the  limit  of  the  rocks,  and  reached  a  shelv- 
ing beach.  He  went  ashore,  and  was  amazed  and  over- 
joyed to  find  a  small  boat  partly  concealed  in  the  bushes. 
In  ten  minutes  he  had  it  in  the  water,  and  was  bound  out 
to  sea. 

Just  as  the  light  of  morning  was  beginning  to  make 
objects  at  sea  discernible  the  lookout  oil  the  cruiser  fed- 
Sin  called  out: 

"Boat  ho!" 

"Where  away?"  asked  the  officer  of  the  deck. 

"  Right  abeam,  sir,  to  windward.  It  looks  like  a  small 
boat  with  one  man  in  it." 

The  cruiser  dropped  down  toward  the  boat,  and  its  oc- 
cupant was  ordered  to  come  aboard.  A  bedraggled,  stag- 
gering, ghastly  figure  ascended  to  the  deck. 

"Goodness!"  exclaimed  the  officer  of  the  deck,  no  oth- 
er than  Orita,  "it's  Griffin." 

The  swaying  boy  put  his  hand  to  his  mouth  and  taking 
out  the  little  packet  threw  it  on  the  deck.  "And  there 
are  the  plans  of  that  fort,"  he  said,  after  Which  he  fainted. 

A  week  later  Port  Arthur  was  captured. 


THE  JEOPARDIZING  OF  THE  EASTER  EGGS, 

BY  ALBERT  LEE. 

T1HE  room  was  (lark  and  silent,  and  the  Swiss  clock  ou  the 
wall  opposite  the  fireplace  had  stopped  again.  This  occur- 
rence was  always  taken  advantage  of  by  the  industrious  Cuckoo 
and  the  patient  Gnome  to  go  over  to  the  fender  and  convei-se 
•with  the  Leopard-skin  and  the  two  Statuettes.  Of  late,  too, 
they  had  allowed  the  plaster  cast  of  a  Barye  Bear  to  come  down 
off  the  piano  and  join  the  conclave. 

"It  is  really  too  bad,"  began  the  Cuckoo, on  this  particular 
occasion,  "  that  the  Leopard-skin  should  always  be  so  ill-tem- 
pered. He  growls  and  snarls  auil  wrinkles  up  his  back  all  the 
time." 

"The  first  thing  you  know,"  snapped  the  Leopard-skin,  "  I'll 
grab  you  up  and  make  a  meal  of  you." 

"  You  cau't  do  that,"  laughed  the  Cuckoo,  "  because  you 
haven't  any  place  to  swallow  me  into." 

"  I'm  not  so  flat  as  I  look,"  retorted  tbe  rug. 

"  Well,  you're  uot  oversharp,"  added  the  bird. 

"The  Cuckoo  and  the  Leopard-skin  are  at  it  again,"  mur- 
mured the  Dresden-china  Shepherdess.  "Isn't  it  awful?  You 
might  expect  a  Bear  to  growl  a  good  deal,  but  the  Leopard-skin 
quarrels  all  the  time;  he  never  stops." 

"You  can't  expect  a  Leopard  to  change  his  spots,"  said  the 
Gnome. 

"What  does  lie  mean  by  that?"  asked  the  Shepherdess. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  the  Shepherd.     "  Perhaps — 

But  here  the  Leopard-skin  broke  in  with  :  "  Of  course  I  won't 
change  my  spots.  I'm  a  Leopard.  A  Leopard  never  changes 
his  spots.  Did  you  take  me  for  a  Jeopard?" 

"  What's  a  Jeopard?"  asked  the  Dresden-china  Shepherdess. 

Nobody  answered  for  a  moment,  and  so  the  Barye  Bear  thought 
it  was  a  good  opportunity  for  him  to  get  into  the  conversation. 

"  A  Jeopard,"  bega.ii  the  Bear  in  hollow  tones,  for  he  was  only 
a  plaster  cast — "a  Jeopard  is  an  animal  that  looks  just  like  a 
Leopard." 

"  But  he  is  not  a  Leopard,"  said  the  Gnome. 


"Of  course  not.  He's  different.  He  only  looks  like  a  Leopard. 
But  a  Leopard  won't  change  his  spots,  and  a  Jeopard  will." 

"  How  very  peculiar!"  said  the  Shepherdess.  "What  does  he 
change  them  for  .'" 

"  Well,  he'll  change  them  for  anything,"  continued  the  Barye 
Bear.  "And  not  always  for  the  better.  There  is  not  anything 
a  Jeopard  won't  do.  He  will  risk  anything,  and  take  all  sorts 
of  chances.  That's  what  it  means  when  folks  talk  about  jeop- 
ardizing things." 

"Perhaps  the  Gnome  knows  a  story  about  a  Jeopard,"  sug- 
gested the  Cuckoo. 

"  I  think  I  can  remember  one,"  said  the  Gnoine. 

"  Oh,  do  tell  it  to  us,"  exclaimed  the  Shepherdess.  "  We've 
got  a  whole  hour  before  dawn." 

"  Well,  it's  a  very  short  story,"  continued  the  Gnome;  "and 
if  you  won't  interrupt,  I'll  tell  it  to  you." 

They  all  agreed  they  would  not  interrupt  him,  and  the  Gnome 
began : 

"  This  Jeopard  that  I  am  going  to  tell  you  about,  lived  ill  the 
wood  that  surrounds  the  hill  where  all  the  Easter  Hens  used  to 
go  to  lay  their  Easter  eggs." 

"Where  is  that?"  asked  the  Shepherdess,  timidly. 

"  Now  you  all  said  you  would  not  interrupt,"  cried  the  Gnome, 
somewhat  impatiently ;  and  both  the  Barye  Bear  and  the  Leop- 
ard-skin growled.  Then  he  proceeded: 

"The  Easter  Hens  used  to  come  to  this  hill  every  year  just 
before  Easter,  and  lay  their  Easter  eggs.  There  was  a  Leopard 
that  lived  in  a  cave  ou  the  hill-side,  and  although  he  was  not  a 
very  reputable  beast  in  other  respects,  he  used  to  watch  over 
the  Easter  eggs  when  the  Hens  went  away.  And  furthermore, 
he  used  to  mark  ou  his  spots  who  each  egg  was  intended  for,  so 
that  there  would  be  no  mistake  in  the  distribution." 

"  Sort  of  a  bookkeeper,"  put  in  the  Cuckoo,  contemptuously. 

"  Shut  up!"  snarled  the  Leopard-skin. 

The  Gnome  looked  displeased,  but  kept  on  : 

"One  Easter,  however,  the  Leopard  was  taken  ill,  and  wheu 
the  Easter  Hens  came  to  the  hill  to  leave  their  eggs  they  did  not 
know  what  to  do  without  their  friend  the  Leopard.  But  the 
Jeopard  was  there,  and  had  spots  just  like  the  Leopard,  and  he 
said  he  would  keep  track  of  the  eggs  if  the  Hens  wished  him  to. 
So  it  was  arranged  that  the  Jeopard  should  superintend  the 
annual  distribution  ou  Easter  morning,  and  his  spots  were  all 
marked  with  the  names  of  those  for  whom  the  eggs  were  in- 
truded. 

"  But  on  Easter  eve  a  Wolf  came  along  that  way,  and  invited 
the  Jeopard  to  go  with  him  to  a  sheepfold  he  knew  of  and  have 
some  Spring  Lauib. 

"  '  But  yon  cau't  go  like  that,'  said  the  Wolf.  '  I  look  like  a 
dog,  and  will  pass  muster;  but  you  look  like  a  Leopard,  and  the 
Lambs  will  run  away.' 

"  '  I'll  fix  that,'  answered  the  Jeopard.      '  I'll  change  my  spots.' 

"  So  lie  changed  his  spots,  and  the  two  started  off  together. 
When  the  Jeopard  returned  he  put  on  his  spots  again  ;  but,  of 
course,  he  got  them  on  all  wrong.  Then  the  sun  rose  very 
bright,  as  it  always  does  ou  Easter  day,  and  the  first  one  to  come 
for  his  Easter  egg  was  the  Chipinoiik. 

"  '  Which  is  my  egg?'  he  asked. 

"  But  the  Jeopard  could  not  tell  him,  because  his  spots  were 
all  changed  about.  Then  the  Musk-rat  came,  and  he,  too,  was 
disappointed. 

"  '  I'm  not  a  Leopard.  I'm  a  Jeopard,'  snarled  the  guilty  ani- 
mal, and  then  there  was  a  great  commotion.  The  old  sick  Leop- 
ard came  up  out  of  his  cave  to  see  what  the  trouble  was. 

"  '  The  Jeopard  changed  his  spots!'  cried  the  Chipnionk. 

'•  '  He  did,  did  he?'  growled  the  Leopard.  '  Well,  I'm  pretty 
bad  sometimes,  hut  you  can  at  least  always  depend  upon  me.' 

"And  so  saying,  he  rushed  at  the  Jeopard,  and  beat  him  and 
bit  him  and  chewed  ott'  all  his  spots,  so  that  no  one  would  ever 
mistake  him  for  a  Leopard  again.  And  the  other  animals  sat 
around  and  encouraged  him.  When  the  Jeopard  had  finally 
been  whipped  into  a  new  shape  the  Leopard  let  him  go." 

"And  where  did  he  go  to?"  asked  the  Cuckoo. 

"Nobody  knows.     He's  never  been  seen  since." 

''And  what  became  of  the  Easter  eggs?"  asked  the  Shep- 
herdess. 

"  They  drew  lots  for  the  eggs." 

"And  now,"  concluded  the  Gnome,  "the  Leopard  always  looks 
after  the  Easter  eggs,  because  he  never  changes  his  spots." 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  there  is  one  thing  in  his  favor."  remarked  the 
Cuckoo.  And  then,  as  the  dawn  began  t<>  break,  they  all  re- 
turned to  their  respective  places,  and  looked  forward  into  an- 
other day. 


THE  CONSTABT.K.   "  Now  don't  let  me  ketch  you 

youngsters  slidin'  on  this  hill  again,  or  you'll  Lev       The  youngsters  show  contempt  for  the  law. 
the  law  on  yer." 


'Me  and  Jane  can  look  out  for  the  law,  I  guess." 


A  NATURAL   ERROR. 

"On,  mamma,"  said  the  small  boy  from  the  city  when  he  first 
saw  a  robin,  "coine  look  at  this  little  sparrow  with  a  red  flan- 
iiel  shirt  on." 


THE  THING  TO  HAVE  DONE. 
"MY  (loll  is  very  sick,"  said  Polly,  mournfully. 
"Yes,"  said  Jenuie  ;  "she  looks  very  waxy.   You  ought  to  have 
her  waxiuated." 


NOT  HIS  FAULT. 

MOTHER  (to  Frank).  "How  is  it  that  you're  late  Lome  nearly 
every  da\  .'" 

FIJAXK.  "Well,  no  wonder;  we've  got  such  a  big  clock  in  our 
school." 

MOTHER.  "  Why,  what  has  the  clock  to  do  with  it?" 

FKAXK.  '-''Cause  it's  so  big,  it  takes  the  hands  an  a\vfnl  long 
while  to  get  around  it.  If  we  had  a  clock  like  papa's  little  one, 
I'd  get  home  a  great  deal  quicker." 


BERTIE'S   ORTHOGRAPHY. 
MAXIMA.  "Can  you  spell  February,  Bertie ?" 
BEKTIE.  "  Yes,  mamma." 
MAMMA.  "Well,  let  me  hear  you." 
BERTIE.  "I  have  forgotten  how." 
MAMMA.  "  But  you  just  said  you  could  spell  it." 
BERTIE.  "  So  I  can  ;  but  not  here.    I  can  only  remember  how 
it  goes  in  school." 

'•  MAMMA,"  said  a  little  five-year-old  boy,  "  when  will  I  be  old 
enough  to  go  to  school?" 

"  Oh,  not  for  some  time  yet,  I  hope,"  replied  his  mother.  "  But 
I  thought  your  ambition  was  to  become  a  soldier,  Bobby  ?" 

"Yes. mamma, so  it  is.  I  want  to  go  to  school  and  learti  how 
to  fight  like  brother  Carl !" 


"  I'VE  got  a  better  memory  than  you,  mamma." 

"Why  so?" 

"  'Cause  papa  says  I  remember  things  that  never  happen." 


BETTER  STILL. 

THE  postmaster's  boy  and  the  professor's  boy  were  playing 
together.      A  question  of  precedence   arose,  and  the  professor's 
'boy  exclaimed,  "You  ought  to  let  me  go  first!     My  father's  an 
A.M." 

"  HuL  !"  replied  his   companion.     ''That's  nothing.     My  fa- 
ther's a  P.M." 


A  MASSACHUSETTS  school-boy  whrn  asked  to  give  a  definition 
of  oxygen  replied,  "A  little  boy  cow." 


"On,  mamma!"  exclaimed  Arthur,  looking  ruefully  at  the 
small  piece  of  pie  which  had  been  placed  upon  his  plate.  "  Why 
didn't  the  cook  put  some  shortening  into  yours  and  papa's  too  f 

"  WHAT'S  the  matter,  dear  ?     Have  you  got  a  cold  ?" 

"  A  cold  f     I've  got  two." 

"My!     How  so?" 

"I've  got  one  in  my  head  and  one  in  my  throat." 


TOMMY'S   BLOSSOM  THINK. 

TOMMY.  "Ain't  these  nice  sweet  apple  blossoms,  mamma?" 
MAMMA.  "Yes.  Tommy." 

TOMMY.  "And  isn't  it  funny,  mamma,  how  they  can  grow  up 
into  such  sour  apples." 


MOTHER.  "  Girls,  you  dou't  know  how  near  President  Culture- 
fail  came  to  running  over  me  to  day." 

GIIILS  (disappointedly).  "Oh,  mamma!  You  might  have  been 
so  distinguished !" 


Oi.i>  MK.  GROOT    (watching  tin  pursued  and  not 

'Two  can  play  that  ere  game  as  well  as  one."      sceiinj  the  approaching  pursuer).  "These  ashes  will 

fix  tbe  next  one." 


And  Mr.  Grout  was  quite  correct. 


AN    UNEXPECTED    RESULT. 


HARPE 


* — " 

35 


'Ji 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


Copyright,  1895,  by  HAKPKB  &  BROTHRRS.     All  Rights  Re! 


PUBLISHED     WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI.— NO.  807. 


NEW  YORK,   TUESDAY,  APRIL  16,  1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO  DOLLAUS   A    YEAH. 


THE     LONGMEADOW     TOLL=QATE. 


BY    W.  G.  VAN    TASSEL    SUTPHEN. 


Part  £-. 

BICYCLE  that  will  run  itself  up  hill,  and  beat 
upon  a  level  the  best  trotter  in  Polk  County — 
that's  the  sort  of  bicycle  I  should  like  to  own,"  thought 
Fred  March,  as  he  looked  over  the  handles  of  his  sixty- 
three-inch  wheel  at  Long  Hill  looming  dark  and  high 
before  him.  It  was  a  happy  thought,  and,  as  is  usual- 
ly the  case,  there  was  another  and  even  happier  one 
treading  close  upon  its  heels,  or,  rather,  it  was  waiting 
for  Fred  at  the  top  of  the  hill. 

"I'll  talk  to  father  about  it,"  was  this  second  inspira- 
tion, and  with  the  Napoleonic  promptitude  that  generally 
means  success  he  acted  upon  it  at  once. 

Mr.  March  senior  was  a  manufacturer  of  blackboards, 


and  owned  an  extensive  plant  in  the  little  village  of  Fair- 
acre.  The  Fairacre  buckboards  were  known  and  sold  all 
over  the  country  as  the  very  best  thing  of  the  kind,  but  M  r. 
March  himself  was  of  the  opinion  that  there  was  nothing' 
so  good  that  could  not  be  made  just  a  little  better  if  one 
only  worked  with  that  end  in  view.  As  a  matter  of  con- 
sequence there  was  not  a  finer  machine-shop  ill  the  State 
than  the  one  owned  by  March  &  Co.,  and  it  was  gener- 
ally believed  that  it  was  equal  to  anything  in  the  line  of 
mechanical  construction. 

"There  is  no  reason  why  it  shouldn't  be  done,"  said 
Mr.  March,  thoughtfully,  as  Fred  proceeded  to  unfold  his 
magnificent  idea.  ''But  your  working  plans  are  rather 
incomplete;  I'll  think  it  over  for  a  day  or  two." 


402 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


"Thinking  it  over"  was  one  thing,  but  "thinking  it 
out "  was  quite  a  different  process.  It  took  several  months 
of  experimenting  before  success  even  appeared  in  sight, 
but  one  fine  day  in  late  December  Mr.  March  announced 
that  the  "happy  thought"  was  ready  for  inspection. 

It  was  an  odd-looking  machine  as  it  stood  in  the  loft 
over  the  foundry,  secure  from  the  observation  of  over- 
curious  eyes.  "  I  built  it  as  a  tandem,"  said  Mr.  March, 
"because  I  thought  that  it  was  quite  enough  for  one  per- 
son to  do  the  steering,  without  having  to  attend  to  the 
motive  power  as  well." 

"I'll  have  Jack  Howard  for  engineer,"  said  Fred, 
promptly.  "Gee  whiz!  what  tires!" 

They  did  look  odd,  for  they  were  fully  three  times  as 
large  as  the  ordinary  pneumatic  tubes.  But,  as  Mr.  March 
explained,  it  was  evident  that  they  would  run  much  more 
smoothly  over  rough  roads,  and  with  their  large  bearing 
surface  would  be  much  less  liable  to  slip  in  mud  or  snow. 
The  wheels  themselves  were  slightly  smaller  in  diameter 
than  the  ordinary  ones,  but  were  constructed  on  precisely 
the  same  principle.  The  tubular  frame-work  differed  only 
from  the  regular  pattern  in  that  it  extended  for  about  a 
foot  behind  the  rear  wheel,  serving  as  a  base  for  the  two 
cylinders,  that  worked  very  much  like  those  on  a  loco- 
motive. There  were  two  or  three  other  mysterious-look- 
ing appliances,  but  the  handle-bars  and  saddle  were  of 
the  ordinary  style.  There  were  pedals,  too,  but  they 
worked  on  the  ratchet  principle,  as  in  the  old-time  "Star" 
bicycles. 

It  would  hardly  be  fair  to  Mr.  March  to  describe  the 
motive  power  in  detail,  since  his  patent  is  still  pending, 
but  it  is  safe  to  say  that  it  was  an  ingenious  modification 
of  the  principle  upon  which  the  hot-air  engine  is  con- 
structed. The  cylinders  took  the  power  from  one  end 
only,  the  parts  being  therefore  few  in  number  and  not 
liable  to  get  out  of  order.  The  power  was  generated 
from  naphtha  or  gasoline  stored  in  a  reservoir,  and  ad- 
mitted drop  by  drop  into  the  cylinder  heads,  mixed  with 
common  air,  and  then  exploded  by  an  electric  spark  from 
a  storage  battery.  The  expansion  of  the  gas  drove  the 
piston  forward,  and  the  exhaust  was  made  into  the  open 
air.  By  increasing  the  flow  of  oil  the  machine  could  be 
sent  along  at  a  speed  regulated  only  by  the  condition  of 
the  road-bed  and  the  nerve  of  the  steersman.  Finally, 
it  was  only  necessary  to  start  the  machine  with  the  ped- 
als before  applying  the  power.  A  touch  of  the  electric 
button,  a  pull  at  the  lever,  and  the  laws  of  physics  and 
mechanics  did  the  rest. 

Mr.  March  was  obliging  enough  to  coach  Jack  Howard 
in  his  duties  as  engineer,  and  the  Happy  Thought — so 
Fred  had  christened  her — had  her  trial  trip  that  very  af- 
ternoon. As  there  was  no  steam-boiler  to  explode  nor 
dangerous  current  of  electricity  to  handle,  the  boys  were 
allowed  to  experiment  as  they  pleased,  and  they  found 
but  little  difficulty  in  learning  how  to  manage  and  con- 
trol the  movements  of  the  Happy  Thought.  Everything 
worked  perfectly  from  the  start,  and  with  a  full  supply 
of  oil  the  machine  was  good  for  fifty  miles  without  a 
stop. 

It  was  Friday,  and  the  boys  had  spent  the  greater  part 
of  the  afternoon  in  cleaning  up  and  otherwise  preparing 
the  Happy  Thought  for  a  long  trip  on  Saturday.  As 
Fred  passed  the  livery  -  stable  on  his  way  home  two 
strangers  drove  into  the  yard.  It  was  almost  dark,  but  he 
noticed  that  the  team  looked  as  though  they  had  been 
driven  at  top  speed.  Both  horses  were  blown,  and  the 
men  were  evidently  trying  to  get  a  fresh  rig.  The  pro- 
prietor of  the  stable  looked  rather  suspiciously  at  the 
strangers,  who  had  their  coat  collars  well  turned  up,  and 
were  moreover  still  further  disguised  by  enormous  silk 
mufflers — ostensibly  as  a  protection  against  the  night  air. 
But  there  was  the  deposit  in  bright-shining  double  eagles, 
and  business  was  rather  dull.  It  was  only  a  matter  of  a 


few  minutes  to  hitch  up  the  best  pair  of  roadsters  in  Fair- 
acre,  and  the  two  men,  who  had  not  left  the  wagon,  were 
quickly  down  the  road  and  out  of  sight.  As  they  rattled 
out  of  the  yard  something  dropped  from  the  pocket  of  the 
man  who  was  driving.  Fred  picked  it  up  and  looked  at 
it.  It  was  a  revolver,  bright  and  new,  and  with  every 
chamber  loaded. 

"  It's  odd  that  I  haven't  been  able  to  get  Jefferson 
Court-house  all  afternoon,"  said  the  Fail-acre  telephone 
operator  to  Fred,  a  few  moments  later.  "  I've  rung  'em 
up  a  dozen  times,  but  I  don't  get  a  whisper." 

"Well,  I  want  to  talk  with  Longmeadow.  Jack  and 
I  are  going  down  to  the  river  to-morrow,  and  we'd  like  to 
know  about  the  roads.  Call  them  up,  will  you?" 

"Now  that's  the  funniest  thing  yet,"  returned  the  op- 
erator, as  he  gave  the  handle  of  the  gong  another  twist. 
"  I  was  talking  to  Longmeadow  not  five  minutes  ago,  and 
now  he  won't  reply.  Gone  out,  or  asleep  mebbe." 

"  Hym  I  First  Jefferson,  and  then  Longmeadow — there 
must  be  something  more  than  funny  in  that.  How  about 
those  two  fellows  who  changed  horses  here ;  could  they 
have  had  anything  to  do  with  it?  They  came  from  the 
direction  of  Jefferson,  and  they've  gone  straight  to  the 
Longmeadow  pike." 

The  operator  stared  at  Fred  doubtfully.  He  was  not  a 
man  to  take  in  an  idea  rapidly,  so  he  said  nothing,  and 
rang  his  bell  again. 

"  Hello!"  said  Fred,  as  a  man  galloped  by  at  top  speed 
in  the  direction  of  the  hotel.  "There's  Sheriff  Jones 
from  Jefferson  ;  and  now  I  know  there's  something  up." 

He  ran  down  the  street,  stopping  only  long  enough  to 
give  two  short  sharp  whistles  before  Jack  Howard's  house. 
It  was  their  private  call,  and  he  knew  that  Jack  would  be 
quickly  on  hand. 

The  Sheriff  was  standing  on  the  hotel  steps,  surrounded 
by  an  excited  knot  of  men.  ".Twenty  thousand  dollars 
in  gold  and  bank-notes,"  Fred  heard  him  say.  as  he  el- 
bowed his  way  in.  "It  was  a  mighty  slick  job  for 
'Smooth  Jim'  and  his  pal.  One  of  'em  held  up  the 
cashier  with  his  gun,  while  the  other  fellow  went  through 
the  safe.  Not  another  soul  in  the  bank,  and  they  made 
a  clean  sweep,  walked  out,  jumped  into  their  buckboard, 
and  drove  off  as  chipper  as  you  please.  Ten  minutes 
after  the  teller  walks  in  from  dinner,  and  finds  Mr.  Cash- 
ier gagged  and  tied  and  rolled  under  the  counter.  Of 
course  they  had  cut  the  telephone  wires  the  first  tiling, 
and  they  had  a  good  twenty  minutes'  start  of  me.  Jeru- 
salem !  I  meant  to  stop  at  the  office  here;  they're  sure  to 
steer  for  Longmeadow  and  the  river." 

"The  Longmeadow  wire  is  dead,"  interrupted  Fred, 
quickly. 

The  Sheriff,  who  did  not  appear  to  possess  either  the 
decision  or  the  presence  of  mind  that  is  supposed  to  be  a 
distinguishing  virtue  of  his  office,  pulled  nervously  at  his 
ginger-colored  beard,  and  opened  his  mouth  several  times 
without  saying  anything. 

"  I  can't  give  you  a  critter  that  '11  catch  those  fellows," 
put  in  Garvey,  the  livery-stable-keeper.  "They've  got 
my  Morgans,  who  are  good  for  twelve  miles  an  hour  easy, 
and  they've  been  gone  fifteen  minutes  now." 

There  was  a  babel  of  voices,  and  a  hundred  useless  sug- 
gestions from  the  by-standers.  Fred  beckoned  to  Jack, 
who  had  just  come  running  up,  and  made  a  few  hasty 
figures  on  an  old  letter  back. 

The  situation  was  indeed  very  simple,  and  all  in  favor 
of  the  bank-robbers,  whose  plans  had  evidently  worked 
to  perfection.  Neither  Jefferson  nor  Fail-acre  was  on 
the  railroad,  and  their  only  means  of  communication 
with  the  outside  world  was  the  now  useless  telephone 
wire.  Longmeadow,  which  was  thirty  miles  away,  was 
the  nearest  point  to  the  river.  It  was  evident  that  they 
would  not  risk  the  railroad,  but  would  make  straight  for 
the  water,  where  a  steam  launch  or  row-boat  would  be  in 


APRIL  16,  1895. 


HAEPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


403 


waiting  for  them.  Once  on  the  other  side  they  would  be 
out  of  the  State,  and  have  time  in  which  to  make  good 
their  escape.  The  men  had  left  Fail-acre  at  pi-ecisely  five 
o'clock,  behind  a  pair  of  horses  that  at  twelve  miles  an 
hour  would  bring  them  to  the  river  at  half  past  seven. 
It  was  now  twenty  minutes  past  five,  and  there  was  not  a 
horse  in  or  around  Fail-acre  that  could  travel  with  Bill 
Garvey's  Morgans  on  even  terms,  let  alone  catch  up  with 
them. 

"  But  the  Happy  Thought  can  do  it,"  concluded  Fred, 
as  he  rapidly  ran  through  the  facts  in  the  case  for  his 
astonished  partner's  benefit ;  "  and  if  you  say  so,  it's  a  go." 

"I'm  with  you,"  responded  Jack,  with  sententious 
brevity;  he  was  a  young  gentleman  of  few  words,  but 
they  were  generally  to  the  point.  "I'll  go  and  get  her 
out." 

"  And  put  on  the  third  seat  for  the  Sheriff,"  sung  out 
Fred,  as  Jack  disappeared  around  the  corner. 

"We'll  be  ready  to  start  by  half  past  five,"  thought 
Fred,  "and  the  moon  '11  be  up  by  then.  Luckily  it  isn't 
cold,  and  the  roads  are  good.  I  calculate  that  we  can 
catch  them  at  Longmeadow  toll-gate,  half  a  mile  above 
the  landing,  which  will  be  doing  a  little  better  than  fif- 
teen miles  an  hour.  Now  for  the  Sheriff." 

Mr.  Jones,  who  had  accepted  the  inevitable  with  phi- 
losophic composure,  and  was  engaged  in  whittling  up  an 
•end  of  plug  tobacco  preparatory  to  indulging  in  a  com- 
forting smoke,  was  not  inclined  at  first  to  look  upon 
Fred's  proposition  with  favor. 

"Trust  myself  on  that  rampin',  roarin',  wild  -  higine 
critter  of  yourn — not  much !  Why,  boy,  you're  clean 
plumb  crazy.  Besides,  them  fellers  has  a  gun." 

"No,  they  haven't."  said  Fred,  producing  the  revolver. 
"  They  dropped  this  as  they  drove  out  of  the  yard.  I  tell 
you,  Sheriff,  that  the  Happy  Thought  can  put  you  along- 
side of  that  buckboard  inside  of  two  hours  if  you're  will- 
ing to  try  it." 

"  I  never  could  sit  on  that  little  postage-stamp  of  a 
seat." 

"Comfortable  as  a  rocking-chair,  and  nothing  to  do 
but  hold  on." 

"I  oughter  wait  for  my  posse,"  advanced  Mr.  Jones, 
weakly;  "and  I  don't  believe  the  critter  '11  go,  anyhow." 

"Five  hundred  dollars'  reward,"  returned  Fred,  reso- 
lutely; and  then,  shutting  his  watch  with  a  snap,  "  Time's 
up."" 

Jack  was  standing  at  his  post,  ready  to  shove  off.  Fred 
took  the  forward  seat,  grasped  the  steering-handles,  and 
looked  at  the  Sheriff  expectantly. 

The  crowd  nudged  each  other,  and  a  tall  gentleman  in 
blue  jeans  "allowed,"  audibly,  that  the  "Sheriff  was 
plumb  scairt  of  'Smooth  Jim  '  and  his  friend." 

That  settled  it;  for,  after  all,  Mr.  Jones  was  no  coward. 
No  man  could  be  who  had  been  elected  Sheriff  of  Polk 
County  four  times  running.  He  stepped  forward,  stowed 
himself  away  on  the  extra  saddle  immediately  in  front 
of  Jack,  and  assured  himself  that  his  old  army  "Colt" 
was  in  working  order.  Then,  shutting  his  eyes,  he  an- 
nounced himself  as  prepared  for  the  worst. 

"  All  right,  Jack,"  said  Fred ;  and  then,  to  a  boy  in  the 
crowd,  "Tell  my  mother — will  you,  Bill? — that  she  needn't 
wait  supper  for  us." 

"  You'll  hev  all  you  want  to  eat. when  you  tackle  those 
fellers  down  the  pike,"  drawled  Mr.  Blue-Jeans,  and  the 
crowd  laughed  again. 

Jack  pushed  otf,  jumped  to  his  saddle,  with  his  feet  on 
the  pedals,  and  the  Happy  Thought  rolled  slowly  down 
the  street.  Two  sharp  whistles  from  Fred,  and  Jack 
turned  on  the  power.  The  Happy  Thought  lurched  for- 
ward, and  the  chase  was  on. 

Half  a  mile  outside  of  the  village,  and  they  were  de- 
scending Long  Hill. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


SNOW-SHOES    AND    SLEDGES.* 

BY     KIRK     M  U  N  R  O  E, 
AUTHOR  OF  "  DOKYMATES,"  "  RAFTMATES,"  "  CAMFMATF.S,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 
MUSIC    OF   THE  SLEDGE    BELLS. 

T^HE  cold  winter  morning  that  succeeded  that  memora- 
ble day  at  the  Anvik  Mission  witnessed  an  animated 
scene  in  the  open  space  between  its  stout  log  buildings. 
Fur-clad  figures  hurried  in  all  directions,  bringing  last 
things  and  finishing  the  lading  of  the  three  sledges  that 
were  to  constitute  the  up-river  brigade.  To  each  of  these 
were  attached  seven  dogs,  it  having  been  decided  at  the 
last  moment  to  add  two  extra  haulers  to  each  team,  as 
both  dogs  and  fish,  for  their  feed,  were  much  cheaper  at 
Anvik  than  they  would  be  beyond  that  point.  Then,  too, 
with  such  strong  teams  a  high  degree  of  speed  could  be 
maintained,  for  while  two  of  the  sledges  carried  six  hun- 
dred pounds  each,  the  third  was  laden  with  but  half  that 
weight,  so  that  if  either  of  the  boys  became  exhausted  he 
could  ride,  and  so  avoid  the  necessity  of  a  halt. 

Each  dog's  harness  was  composed  of  three  bands  of 
seal-skin,  two  of  which  passed  over  his  back  and  were 
toggled  or  buttoned  under  the  belly,  while  the  third, 
which  was  extended  into  traces,  crossed  his  chest.  The 
leader  was  attached  to  the  end  of  a  long  pulling  thong  of 
walrus  hide,  while  the  traces  of  the  other  dogs,  who  ran 
in  pairs,  were  knotted  and  made  fast  to  the  same  line  at 
proper  intervals.  The  two  steer -dogs  were  hitched  di- 
rectly to  the  hauling-bar  in  front  of  the  sledge. 

The  load  of  each  sledge,  enveloped  in  stout  canvas, 
was  immovably  bound  to  it  by  a  simple  but  ingenious 
net-work  of  raw-hide  lashing,  so  that  the  whole  might 
roll  over  and  over  without  being  loosened  or  disarranged. 

At  ten  o'clock,  or  just  as  the  laggard  sun  of  those  short 
days  was  rising,  the  last  hearty  handshakes  were  ex- 
changed, the  fervent  "God  bless  yous, "  and  final  fare- 
wells were  uttered,  and  the  start  was  made. 

Kurilla,  who  was  to  act  as  runner  and  break  a  trail 
through  the  snow,  went  first.  Then  came  Phil's  team, 
with  the  string  of  tiny  bells  attached  to  Husky's  harness 
jingling  merrily  in  the  frosty  air;  after  him  followed 
Serge,  whose  cheery  good  nature  and  ready  helpfulness 
had  won  for  him  a  warm  place  in  every  Anvik  heart; 
and  the  rear  was  brought  np  by  Chitsah. 

On  the  very  brow  of  the  steep  descent  to  the  river  Phil 
turned  for  a  parting  wave  of  his  hand  and  a  last  glance 
at  the  place  that  had  grown  to  seem  so  much  like  home 
in  the  past  six  weeks.  His  less-sentimental  dogs  sprang 
down  the  narrow  track  with  such  suddenness  that  poor 
Phil,  who  still  held  to  the  sledge  with  one  hand,  was 
jerked  abruptly  forward,  threw  the  sledge  from  the  path 
in  his  effort  to  save  himself  and  plunged  with  it  down 
the  bank.  By  thus  taking  a  header,  Phil,  his  dogs,  and 
his  sledge,  reached  the  bottom  even  in  advance  of  Kurilla, 
sadly  demoralized,  but  except  for  a  few  bruises  and  a  ter- 
rible snarl  of  trace-lines  none  the  worse  for  the  accident. 

When  a  few  minutes  later  Serge  reached  the  spot,  with 
his  anxious  and  now  familiar  inquiry,  Phil  cut  him  short 
by  saying: 

"  No,  old  man,  I'm  not  hurt,  though,  of  course,  I  might 
have  been.  But  I  was  willing  to  risk  it  for  your  sake." 

"  For  my  sake!"  cried  Serge,  in  amazement. 

"Yes,  to  set  you  an  example  in  promptness  of  move- 
ment. You  know  I  have  always  said  we  would  never 
get  to  Silka  unless  we  took  advantage  of  every  oppor- 
tunity and  pressed  forward  with  all  possible  speed." 

"  Oh,  pshaw!"  laughed  Serge.      "You  remind  me  of  a 
story  I  heard  in  New  London.     An  old  Quaker  was  driv- 
*  Begun  in  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PKOPLE  No.  801. 


404 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME    XVI. 


ing  along  a  country  road  with  his  boy  sitting  in  the 
back  of  the  cart.  Suddenly  the  horse  shied,  and  the 
boy  was  thrown  out,  whereupon  the  old  man  remarked 
quietly,  '  Be  thankful  for  thy  mercies,  son,  for  if  thee'd 
fell  in  a  particell'ar  way  thee'd  broke  thy  Deck.'" 

"Well,  I  didn't,"  replied  Phil,  "  though  I'm  sure  I  fell 
in  a  very  particular  way,  at  least  it  was  particularly  un- 
expected." 

In  a  few  minutes  Kurilla's  deft  fingers  had  repaired  all 
damages,  and  disentangled  the  apparently  hopeless  snarl 
of  dogs.  Then  the  train  was  once  more  set  in  motion, 
and  as  it  swept  out  on  the  broad  surface  of  the  frozen 
river,  was  headed  due  north  for  the  first  stage  of  its  long 
journey.  Fainter  and  fainter  came  the  music  of  its 
sledge  bells  to  those  who  watched  its  departure.  Its  re- 
ceding figures  lessened  until  they  were  but  black  specks 
against  the  illimitable  expanse  of  white,  and  finally  van- 
ished in  the  snow  glint  of  its  wavering  horizon. 

To  Phil  Ryder,  however,  there  was  no  vanishing  about 
the  seven  dogs  that  he  was  attempting  to  drive.  They 
were  right  before  his  eyes,  where  he  was  obliged  to  keep 
them  pretty  constantly,  too,  for  if  he  looked  away  for 
an  instant,  they  knew  it,  and  seized  the  opportunity  for 
mischief. 

After  trying  them  for  half  an  hour,  and  meeting  with  no 
success,  Phil  exclaimed:  "  Look  here,  Kurilla,  you  and  I 
must  change  places,  for  I  can't  stand  this  any  longer. 
Besides,  with  the  present  arrangement,  we  are  spending 
more  time  disentangling  dogs  than  we  are  in  travelling. 
I  don't  somehow  seem  to  have  learned  the  AB  C  of  sledge- 
driving;  but  I  am  getting  along  pretty  well  with  the 
shoes,  and  believe  I  can  walk  ahead  and  tread  out  a  trail 
as  well  as  any  one." 

"All  light,"  answered  the  obliging  fellow.  "You 
walk,  me  come.  Me  come  fas,  you  walk  more  fas,  yaas." 
Then,  with  a  broad  grin,  he  whirled  Phil's  relinquished 
badge  of  authority  about  his  head  in  such  a  manner  as 
gave  the  dogs  to  understand  that  they  must  now  attend 
strictly  to  business  or  take  the  consequences. 

So  Phil  assumed  the  leadership  of  the  expedition,  and 
from  that  moment,  though  always  willing  to  accept  ad- 
vice from  the  others,  he  never  dropped  it. 

When,  shortly  after  three  o'clock,  the  sun  completed 
its  short  course  and  again  reached  the  southern  horizon, 
he  asked  Kurilla  if  it  were  not  about  time  to  make  camp; 
but  the  Indian  answered: 

"No;  go  far  as  can  make  dog  plenty  tired.  S'posin' 
no  git  tired;  night  come,  run  to  Anvik.  Bad  dog,  yaas. 
Git  tired,  night  come,  no  run,  sleep;  good  dog,  yaas." 

"Oh,  that's  the  scheme,  is  it?1'  laughed  Phil.  "Well, 
I  guess  I  can  stand  it  as  long  as  the  rest  can,  though  I 
must  confess  I  am  about  tired  enough  to  rank  with  the 
good  dogs  now." 

So  in  spite  of  lame  ankles,  and  blistering  heels,  and 
toes  that  were  very  tender  from  having  been  repeatedly 
"stubbed"  against  the  snow-shoe  bars,  the  young  leader 
trudged  sturdily  forward,  with  the  dog-teams  following 
close  behind  him.  At  length,  when  the  dusk  was  mer- 
ging into  darkness,  Kurilla  called  out: 

"Now  camp.      Plenty  wood.      Heap  fire,  yaas." 

They  were  passing  a  spruce  and  hemlock  covered  point, 
against  which  a  pile  of  drift  had  lodged,  and,  gladly  ac- 
cepting the  Indian's  suggestion,  Phil  led  the  way  toward 
it,  Twenty  miles  of  the  journey  had  been  accomplished, 
which,  considering  the  late  start  and  that  it  was  a  first 
day,  was  pronounced  to  be  very  good  work. 

For  the  next  half-hour  every  one  labored  as  though  his 
very  life  depended  upon  what  he  could  accomplish  dur- 
ing those  last  precious  moments  of  fading  twilight.  Phil 
and  Kurilla  made  their  keen  axes  ring  merrily  in  an  at- 
tack on  the  pile  of  dry  drift -wood.  Chitsah  felled  a 
spruce-tree,  from  which  lie  cut  two  logs,  each  six  feet 
long,  and  armful  after  armful  of  small  branches.  Serge 


erected  a  low  but  stout  scaffold,  on  which  the  sledges 
were  to  be  placed  to  keep  them  out  of  the  way  of  the  om- 
nivorous dogs,  who  in  the  mean  time  were  lying  down 
in  their  harness  where  they  had  been  halted. 

At  the  end  of  the  half-hour  a  great  back  log  twelve 
feet  long  and  a  smaller  fore  log  had  been  placed  in  po- 
sition and  enough  dry  wood  collected  to  last  until  morn- 
ing. The  direction  of  the  wind  was  noted,  and  the  logs 
for  the  fire  were  so  laid  that  it  should  blow  along  their 
length,  instead  of  across  them  from  either  side.  While 
Serge  split  kindlings  and  started  his  fire  the  two  Indians 
unharnessed  the  patient  dogs.  The  harness,  and  espe- 
cially the  whips,  were  hung  well  beyond  their  reach,  for 
they  will  eagerly  chew  at  the  former  and  invariably  de- 
stroy the  latter  if  by  any  means  they  can  get  at  them. 
Then  the  hungry  animals  were  fed,  Serge  leaving  the 
fire  to  feed  his  own  team,  and  Phil  rejoicing  that  he  had 
escaped  this  dangerous  duty.  Each  dog  was  given  a  salm- 
on weighing  from  pne  pound  and  a  half  to  two  pounds, 
and  each  as  he  received  his  ration  gulped  it  down  exact- 
ly as  Amook  had  done  on  a  previous  occasion.  They 
followed  their  meal  with  copious  mouthfuls  of  snow, 
that  served  instead  of  water. 

Serge,  who  naturally  slipped  into  the  position  of  cook 
for  the  party,  returned  to  the  fire,  which  was  now  blazing 
fiercely  and  sending  a  stream  of  sparks  dancing  among 
the  dark  tree -tops.  Phil  busied  himself  with  the  bed 
that  he  and  Serge  were  to  share,  while  Kurilla  and  Chit- 
sah would  make  theirs  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  fire. 
He  rolled  one  of  the  green  logs  into  position  close  beside 
the  fire  for  its  foot-board,  and  then  covered  a  space  some 
six  feet  square  behind  it  with  flat  spruce  boughs  over 
which  he  spread  a  thick  layer  of  hemlock  tips.  Above 
all  he  laid  the  two  great  bear-skins,  and  on  them  threw 
the  two  sleeping  bags,  each  of  which  had  its  owner's 
name  done  in  black  paint  on  its  white  canvas,  and  con- 
tained his  personal  belongings. 

Everything  needed  for  the  night  being  now  taken  from 
the  sledges,  the  Indians  lifted  them,  with  the  remainder 
of  their  loads,  to  the  scaffold,  on  which  were  also  placed 
the  snow-shoes.  Then  they  made  their  own  bed,  a  very 
simple  affair  as  compared  with  the  one  constructed  by 
Phil.  With  this  the  work  of  preparing  camp  was  fin- 
ished, for  in  that  far  north  land  there  is  no  pitching  of 
tents  by  winter  voyageurs. 

These  are  considered  useless  encumbrances  in  sledge 
travel,  where  every  pound  of  weight  must  be  considered. 
They  are  not  needed  as  a  protection  against  rain,  for  it  is 
certain  that  no  rain  will  fall  with  the  mercury  below 
zero,  and  they  would  be  liable  to  catch  fire  from  the 
roaring  blaze  that  is  kept  up  all  night. 

So  in  the  present  case  there  was  nothing  more  to  be 
done  save  wait  as  patiently  as  might  be  for  supper — and 
this  Phil  declared  to  be  the  hardest  job  he  had  tackled 
that  day. 

CHAPTER    XIV. 

WINTER    TRAVEL   BENEATH    THE    ARCTIC   AURORA. 

WITH  the  advent  of  darkness  and  the  dying  out  of  the 
wind  there  came  such  an  increase  of  cold  that  from  all 
parts  of  the  forest  were  heard  sharp  crackling  sounds 
caused  by  the  cruel  pinchings  of  a  bitter  frost.  Phil  had 
thrust  his  thermometer  into  the  snow  at  the  head  of  his 
bed,  and  was  surprised  to  find,  on  looking  at  it,  that  it 
already  registered  fifteen  degrees  below  zero.  He  had 
been  so  warmed  with  violent  exercise  that  it  had  not 
seemed  so  very  cold ;  but  now  he  shivered  and  drew  closer 
to  the  fire. 

For  his  cooking.  Serge  was  first  obliged  to  melt  snow  in 
order  to  obtain  water;  but  now  the  tea-kettle  was  singing 
merrily,  bacon  and  dried  venison  were  sizzling  together 
in  the  capacious  fry-pan  ;  and  oil  the  opposite  side  of  the 
fire  the  two  Indians  were  rapturously  sniffing  the  deli- 


MAKING    CAMP    THE    FIRST    NIGHT    OUT. 


cious  odors  that  came  from  it.  They  were  toasting  a  fat 
salmon  impaled  011  a  slender  stick,  and  at  the  same  time 
whetting  their  appetite  by  frequent  bites  from  a  lump  of 
pemmican  that  was  handed  from  one  to  the  other. 

Phil  asked  for  a  bit  of  this  when  Serge  took  it  from  its 
bag,  for  he  said,  "Ihave  read  of  pemmican  all  my  life,  and 
from  the  amount  of  praise  bestowed  on  it  by  the  writers, 
think  it  must  be  pretty  fine  eating."  So  he  tried  it,  took 
one  mouthful,  and  flung  the  rest  to  Musky,  who  had 
drawn  close  to  him,  and  was  watching  his  experiment 
with  undisguised  interest. 

"Whew-w!"  sputtered  Phil,  ejecting  the  tasteless 
morsel  from  his  mouth.  "  If  that's  pemmican,  then 
those  who  like  it  may  keep  it  to  themselves;  but  I  cer- 
tainly don't  want  any  more  of  it.  I  suppose,  though, 
it  is  because  my  taste  has  not  been  cultivated  to  appre- 
ciate it  any  more  than  it  has  raw  seal's  liver  and  simi- 
lar dainties." 

Before  supper  both  Phil  and  Serge  afforded  the  Indians 
considerable  amusement  by  devoting  a  basin  of  the  pre- 
cious water  to  a  thorough  cleansing  of  their  faces  and 
hands.  Kurilla  and  Chitsah  not  only  considered  this  a 
waste  of  time,  water,  and  soap,  but,  as  the  former  re- 
marked, with  an  expressive  shake  of  his  head. 

"No  good.     More  clean,  more  quick  git  dirty.     Yaas." 

"Which  sentiment,"  said  Phil,  in  a  low  tone,  to  Serge, 
"explains  why  Indians  and  Eskimos  and  the  like  gener- 
ally sit  on  one  side  of  the  fire,  when  white  men  occupy  the 
other." 

Throwing  a  handful  of  tea  into  the  chynik,  lifting  it 
from  the  fire  the  moment  it  again  came  to  a  boil,  and 
then  setting  it  in  a  warm  place  to  "draw, "Serge  next 
removed  the  cooked  meat  from  the  fry-pan  to  a  heated 
plate.  Into  the  hot  grease  that  remained  he  placed  a 
double  handful  of  broken  biscuit,  previously  soaked  for 
a  few  minutes  in  the  brass  kettle.  When  this  had  ab- 
sorbed every  drop  of  grease  and  begun  to  brown,  it  was 
ready  to  be  eaten  with  molasses  as  a  dessert. 

"  One  of  the  very  best  dinners  I  ever  ate  in  all  my  life, 


old  man!"  declared  Phil,  after  half  an  hour  of  uninter- 
rupted devotion  to  plate  and  cup.  "  I  believe  it  is  fully 
equal  to  that  gorgeous  spread  you  had  ready  for  me  on 
Oonimak  after  my  experience  with  the  sea-otter  hunters. 
As  for  the  tea  !  Well,  I  never  realized  before  what  a 
good  thing  tea  is,  and  how  much  a  fellow  can  drink  of  it! 
Have  I  had  six  or  twenty  of  those  big  tin  cups  full?  No 
matter,  it's  either  one  or  the  other,  and  every  one  of  them 
has  gone  right  to  the  spot  where  it  will  do  the  most  good. 
Wouldn't  my  Aunt  Ruth  be  horrified,  though,  if  she 
could  see  us  dispose  of  that  amount  of  straight  tea?  She 
used  to  consider  one  small  cup, with  plenty  of  milk  in  it, 
about  the  proper  thing  for  a  boy's  daily  allowance.  But 
then  Aunt  Ruth  never  enjoyed  the  advantage  of  drink- 
ing her  tea  out-of-doors,  with  the  mercury  away  down 
below  freezing." 

"Don't  you  mean  below  zero?"  suggested  Serge,  who 
was  refilling  the  chynik  with  hot  water,  and  setting 
it  on  to  boil,  that  whatever  virtue  still  remained  in  the 
tea-leaves  might  be -extracted  for  the  use  of  the  Indians. 

"  Certainly  not!"  retorted  Phil.  "  Why,  it  has  grown 
at  least  twenty  degrees  warmer  during  the  past  half- 
hour."  So  saying,  he  reached  for  the  thermometer  and 
held  it  to  the  light,  where,  to  his  disgust,  he  saw  that  it 
registered  three  degrees  lower  than  when  he  last  looked, 
or  eighteen  degrees  below  zero. 

''You  prevaricating  old  tin  villain!"  he  cried.  "You 
are  away  off,  and  you  know  it.  Oh,  if  I  could  only  get 
one  cup  of  that  tea  inside  of  you !  It  would  bring  you  to 
your  senses  quick  enough." 

The  Indians  had  their  own  wooden  bowls  or  "kan- 
tags,"  horn  spoons,  and  tin  cups,  and  while  they  ate  their 
supper  they  were  again  amused  by  seeing  Serge  wash  all 
his  dishes  and  cooking  utensils  with  hot  soapy  water. 
They  allowed  their  favorite  dogs  to  lick  their  kantags 
clean,  and  it  must  be  admitted  that  the  operation  was 
quickly  and  thoroughly  performed. 

After  supper  a  line  was  rigged,  and  on  it  were  hung 
mittens,  travelling-boots,  and  the  pads  of  dry  grass  that 


406 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


are  worn  inside  of  them  as  insoles.  Serge  set  a  big  kettle 
of  deermeat,  pemmican,  and  oatmeal  on  the  fire  to  simmer 
into  a  stew  for  breakfast  and  lunch  the  next  day.  He 
also  fixed  a  slab  of  snow  where,  as  it  melted,  it  would  drip 
into  the  tea-kettle.  By  his  advice  Phil  bathed  his  swol- 
len ankles  with  water  as  hot  as  he  could  bear  it  and 
rubbed  tallow  on  the  blistered  places.  This  treatment 
was  to  be  followed  by  a  dash  of  ice  water  and  a  brisk 
rubbing  first  thing  in  the  morning. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  fire  the  Indians  indulged  in  the 
long-pipe  smoke,  that  after  a  hard  day's  work  affords  the 
chief  enjoyment  of  their  monotonous  lives.  When  itwas 
finished  Kurilla  went  out  for  a  final  look  at  the  sledges 
and  dogs,  and  threw  a  couple  more  logs  on  the  fire.  Then 
he  rolled  up  in  his  rabbit-skin  robe  for  as  many  hours  of 
sleep  as  he  could  obtain  before  it  would  be  necessary  to 
again  replenish  the  tire  and  incidentally  to  take  another 
smoke. 

Removing  only  their  heavy  outer  parkas,  with  their 
feet  encased  in  soft  arctic  sleeping-socks,  their  heads  pro- 
tected by  close-fitting  fur  caps,  and  sheltered  from  the 
cold  by  the  triple  thickness  of  their  fur-lined  sleeping- 
bags,  Phil  and  Serge  lay  on  their  bear  -  skins,  feet  to 
the  fire,  and  slept  the  untroubled  sleep  of  tired  and 
healthy  youth.  About  them  clustered  the  solemn  trees 
of  that  northern  forest,  just  beyond  lay  the  river  frozen 
into  white  silence,  and  above  all  glowed  the  exquisite 
mysterious  sky-tintings  of  an  aurora  pervading  all  space 
with  its  flashing  brilliancy  quivering  with  ceaseless  mo- 
tion, and  yet  giving  forth  neither  heat  nor  sound  and  but 
little  of  light.  With  the  rising  moon  frost  crystals 
glistened  in  the  air,  and  the  long-drawn  howl  of  a  wolf 
echoed  mournfully  through  the  forest.  Every  dog  in 
the  camp  promptly  answered  it,  and  Kurilla  arose  with 
a  shiver  and  mended  the  fire;  but  of  all  this  the  two 
lads,  lying  side  by  side  on  their  rude  couch,  knew  no- 
thing. 

It  was  Phil  who  first  awoke  and  looked  out  from  his 
warm  nest.  With  a  shiver  at  the  bitterness  of  the  air  he 
would  have  withdrawn  his  head  and  snuggled  down  for 
another  nap,  but  for  two  thoughts  that  just  then  flashed 
into  his  mind.  One  was  of  his  father,  whom  he  believed 
to  be  encamped  within  one  hundred  miles  or  so  of  him 
on  that  very  river,  and  whom  he  was  bound  to  overtake. 
The  second  thought  was  that  as  leader  of  the  expedition 
it  was  his  place  to  set  the  others  an  example.  It  would 
be  pleasant  to  lie  there  and  sleep  until  sunrise,  but 
braver  to  set  forth  at  once.  In  another  minute  he  had 
struggled  from  the  sleeping-bag,  pulled  on  his  heavy 
parka,  and  was  shouting,  cheerily: 

"Come,  wake  up!  Wake  up!  Tumble  out  all  hands! 
Don't  you  see  the  sun  a-shining,  and  hear  the  little  birds 
a-singing?" 

"Looks  more  like  the  moon,  and  sounds  like  dogs," 
growled  Serge,  sleepily,  as  he  sat  up  and  rubbed  his  eyes. 
"My!  but  it  is  cold!" 

"Yes,"  admitted  Phil.  "Fifty  below  at  least,  and 
more  I'll  be  bound." 

It  really  seemed  as  cold  as  that,  and  when  his  ther- 
mometer showed  only  20°  below  zero  he  declared  it  to  be 
a  fraud,  and  unworthy  of  further  consideration.  None 
but  those  who  have  experienced  similar  conditions  can 
imagine  the  misery  of  that  camp-breaking  and  getting 
under  way.  The  hunting  from  their  snowy  lairs  and 
harnessing  of  unwilling  dogs,  the  lashing  of  loads  and 
the  tying  of  knots  with  numbed  fingers,  the  longing  to 
hug-  the  fire  in  one's  arms,  and  the  hundred  other  forms 
of  torture  incident  to  the  relentless  cold  all  combined  to 
give  Phil  a  rude  foretaste  of  what  that  journey  was  to 
be.  Amid  all  the  wretchedness  Serge  was  as  usual  the 
comforter,  and  with  his  smoking  stew  and  hot  tea  did 
much  toward  restoring  cheerfulness. 

It  wanted    some   hours    to   sunrise  when    the    sledges 


pulled  out  from  camp,  regained  the  river,  and  resumed 
their  northward  journey.  The  sky  was  overcast,  and  an 
ominous  moaning  sounded  through  the  forest.  Soon  a 
breeze  began  to  blow  in  angry  gusts  full  in  the  faces  of 
our  travellers,  and  by  sunrise  it  was  sweeping  furiously 
down  the  river,  whirling  the  dry  snow  in  blinding  clouds, 
and  driving  the  icy  particles  with  stinging  force  into 
face  and  eyes.  Noses  and  cheeks  became  white  and 
numb,  the  deadly  cold  was  driven  through  fur  and  flan- 
nel until  it  penetrated  the  very  marrow.  Even  the  dogs 
plodded  on  with  lowered  heads  and  pitiful  whimperings, 
while  their  masters  were  obliged  to  turn  their  backs  to 
the  gale  every  few  minutes  for  breath  and  a  momentary 
respite  from  the  fierce  struggle. 

'  'Tis  poorga — yaas!"   shouted  Kurilla. 

"  Aye,  poorga  /"  answered  Serge,  and  for  the  first  time 
Phil  comprehended  the  full  significance  of  the  terrible 
word  which  means  the  wind  of  death. 

By  noon  human  endurance  could  hold  out  no  longer, 
and  ready  to  drop  with  cold,  pain,  and  exhaustion,  Phil 
led  his  train  to  camp  in  a  belt  of  timber  so  thick  that 
even  that  fierce  wind  could  not  penetrate  it,  though 
among  the  tree-tops  it  shrieked  and  howled  with  demoniac 
fury. 

Thus  from  camp  to  camp,  through  sunshine  and  dark- 
ness, storm  and  calm,  stinging  cold  and  whirling  snows, 
the  little  party  toiled  onward  making  twenty,  thirty,  and 
as  high  as  forty  miles  a  day.  They  passed  the  Indian 
settlement  of  Nulato,  once  a  noted  Russian  trading-post 
at  the  end  of  ten  days'  travel,  and  a  week  later  gained  the 
mission  station  of  old  Fort  Adams,  four  hundred  miles 
from  their  point  of  departure.  At  several  Indian  villages 
they  had  heard  of  the  party  in  advance  of  them  whose 
camps  they  also  sometimes  found.  The  trail  was  grow- 
ing fresh,  and  at  Fort  Adams  they  expected  to  gain  defi- 
nite information  of  those  whom  they  sought,  if  indeed 
they  did  not  overtake  them  at  that  point.  At  any  rate 
they  would  find  a  missionary  there  from  whom  they 
would  surely  receive  news. 

The  first  word  obtained  by  Kurilla  from  the  mission 
Indians,  who  swarmed  forth  to  greet  them,  was  that  the 
missionary  was  absent,  and  that  those  whom  they  sought 
had  passed  only  the  day  before.  The  second  was  that 
one  of  that  party  had  returned  but  an  hour  previous,  and 
was  even  now  in  the  missionary's  house. 

"You  fadder,  yaas,"  added  Kurilla,  reassuringly,  with 
a  grin  of  delight  as  he  led  Phil  in  that  direction. 

With  a  loudly  beating  heart  the  excited  lad  opened 
the  door.  There  sat  a  man,  a  white  man,  in  an  attitude 
of  deepest  dejection.  He  was  long  and  lank.  His  fur 
garments  ill  became  him.  Phil's  heart  sank;  for  in  this 
uncouth  figure  there  was  no  trace  of  his  own  dear  father. 
Then,  as  the  woe-begone  face  was  slowly  turned  to  meet 
his,  he  uttered  a  gasping  shout  of  amazed  recognition. 

"Jalap  Coombs,  by  all  that  is  wonderful!" 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


IN   THE  STEAWBERRY   PATCH. 

BY  MARTHA  McCULLOCH  WILLIAMS. 

OH !  please  Ned  !" 
"  Do,  Ned !     That's  a  good  brother :" 

"We  want  to  go — oh!  ever  so  bad." 

Dorothy,  Evelyn,  and  Harriet  spoke  all  at  once. 

"Ned  dear,"  Dorothy  went  on,  "will  you  take  us  over 
to  the  strawberry  patch?  We  have  listened  to  old  Aunt 
Sally's  tales  until  they  are  simply  wild." 

"  So  I'm  in  for  a  day  of  it,"  Ned  said. 

"Yes  —  unless  the  ghost  catches  you  pretty  early. 
Mammy  Sally  vows  there  is  a  ghost — and  certainly  the 
place  looks  haunted." 

"  Count  me  out,  then,"  Ned  said,  putting  up  his  hands 


APRIL  16,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


407 


iu  mock  terror;  but  Evelyn  clapped  his  hat  on  his  head, 
then  she  took  one  arm,  Dorothy  the  other,  and  between 
them  he  was  conducted  to  the  buggy  into  which  Harriet 
had  already  clambered.  Dorothy  hopped  into  the  saddle 
011  Merry  Tom,  easiest  of  pacing  horses;  Evelyn  scram- 
bled on  behind  her,  and  they  were  off  for  the  strawberry 
patch. 

It,  was  a  long  rich  swale,  which  had  been  a  famous 
meadow  in  the  days  when  Ashley  plantation  was  not  a 
tenantless  waste.  The  place  had  been  in  chancery  ten 
years  or  more — in  fact,  ever  since  the  death  of  its  last 
occupant.  Everything  about  it  was  ruinous,  save  the 
outer  fence,  which  was  maintained  to  give  color  to  some 
legal  quib. 

"We  shall  have  just  a  heavenly  time,  Ned.  We'll 
leave  the  horses  loose,  up  there  in  the  yard;  it  is  knee- 
high  with  blue-grass  ;  they  can  eat  their  fill  while  we 
pick  berries,"  said  Dorothy. 

"Do  you  know  what  I  think  about  the  ghost?"  Har- 
riet asked,  as  they  went  on.  "  Well,  that  it  is  Aunt  Sal- 
ly's peculiar  property,  invented  to  scare  the  other  darkies 
into  leaving  her  all  the  strawberries.  They  are  delicious! 
and  she  can  sell  all  she  picks,  now  the  garden  berries  are 
gone." 

"Ned  ought  to  know  that.  I  am  sure  he  has  eaten 
enough  of  them,"  Evelyn  chimed  in.  "I  told  Aunt 
Mina  yesterday  she  would  ruin  herself  outright  if  she 
tried  to  buy  all  he  would  eat;  but  since  he  has  been  ac- 
tually a  year  in  college  she  seems  to  think  nothing  is 
quite  good  enough  for  him." 

"  Humph !  I'd  like  to  know  who  is  going  to  graduate 
next  term,  and  have  an  essay  and  a  white  frock,  and  a 
diploma  that  she  can't  read,"  Ned  retorted.  "Say,  Dot," 
he  continued,  "why  not  go  on  to  the  patch  befone  we 
stop?  Then  I'll  water  the  horses,  and  bring  them  back 
to  graze." 

"  Agreed  !"  Dot  said,  turning  Merry  Tom's  head  into  an 
old  wagon-way,  now  almost  overgrown  with  -rampant 
briers.  It  ran  around  and  past  the  house,  and  soon 
brought  them  to  the  swale.  It  stood  breast-high  in  sedge, 
yellow  and  green,  with  tall  heads  of  timothy  and  patches 
of  feathery  red  -  top  showing  between  the  tufted  sedge 
clumps.  Little  pink  climbing  vetches  twined  pertly  about 
many  of  the  sedge  stalks.  Here  or  there  a  wild  rose  riot- 
ed in  the  rich  light  earth,  and  flung  trailing  blossomy 
arms  for  yards  and  yards  about.  "Say!  This  is  worth 
seeing,  if  there  isn't  a  berry,  nor  the  smell  of  one,"  Ned 
admitted,  stuffing  his  Ovid  into  the  pocket  of  his  coat, 
which  he  flung  over  a  convenient  bough.  He  had 
meant  to  read-  while  the  girls  had  their  frolic  out.  Now 
that  was  out  of  the  question. 

They  had  halted  in  thick  shade,  under  a  clump  of  oaks 
and  chestnuts  overhanging  the  spring.  Dorothy  dipped 
her  scooped  palms  into  the  water,  drank  a  long  draught, 
then  cried,  joyously: 

"Aunt  Sally  is  here  ahead  of  us.  See!  There  is  her 
jug  of  buttermilk  down  there  in  the  water." 

"Look  out  for  the  ghost,  then,"  Ned  shouted,  as  he 
rode  away,  sitting  Merry  Tom  in  a  ridiculous  imitation  of 
Dorothy's  pose.  Trap,  the  buggy  mare,  followed  obe- 
diently behind,  only  halting  now  and  then  to  snatch  a 
mouthful  of  grass  or  tender  way-side  bushes. 

"Let's  take  a  wade  while  Ned's  away,"  Harriet  said, 
dipping  her  left  toe  into  the  dancing  water. 

Dorothy  shook  her  head.  "  He'll  be  back  in  less  than 
no  time,"  she  said.  "  Besides,  we  must  get  our  berries  be- 
fore it  grows  too  hot.  I  don't  want  Ned's  thunder-storm, 
but  I  wouldn't  mind  a  bit  if  a  cloud  would  come  and  stay 
till  we  had  filled  our  baskets." 

"I  don't  believe  we  shall  ever  do  that.  I  don't  see 
any  berries  anywhere,  and  it  is  so  nice  here  by  the 
spring,"  Harriet  said,  a  little  discontentedly. 

Evelyn  caught  up  a  basket  and  disappeared  in  the  tall 


sedge.  A  minute  after  she  called  to  them,  "  Oh,  do  come 
here!" 

They  found  her  kneeling  with  upraised  face  beside 
a  tuft  of  vines  which  grew  in  a  little  hollow  in  the  earth. 
The  tall  leaves,  tenderly  green,  drooped  almost  to  the 
ground  all  around.  Parting  them  with  eager  fingers, 
Evelyn  showed  to  her  companions  clusters  of  deep  red 
berries  as  big  as  the  thumb's  end,  and  giving  out  the 
finest  summer  fragrance.  The  wild  vines  —  self-sown, 
self-tended — could  not  vie  with  the  garden  beds  in  size, 
but  more  than  made  up  for  that  in  color  and  savor. 

"There!"  Dot  said,  a  note  of  triumph  in  her  voice. 
"I  would  not  miss  to-day  for  two  picnics,  and  a  dance 
thrown  in.  Get  your  basket,  Hat-a-rat!  If  you  can  fill 
it  before  I  do  mine,  you  may  ride  home — in  the  saddle, 
not  behind." 

"The  baskets  are  all  full,  which  is  not  strange,  con- 
sidering. Ned  is  also  full — of  strawberries — which  is  a 
miracle  under  any  circumstances,"  Evelyn  said,  two 
hours  later,  as  the  four  gathered,  flushed  and  panting, 
yet  immeasurably  happy,  in  the  shade  beside  the 
spring. 

"Full,  but  not  satisfied,"  Ned  retorted.  "  I  have  not 
seen  the  ghost,  not  even  a  flutter  of  its  wings.  Didn't  I 
hear  that  Aunt  Sally  said  it  had  wings,  and  walked  in 
broad  daylight?  I  take  it  very  unkind  of  such  a  remark- 
able sort  of  spectre  to  be  '  riot  at  home '  when  I  came  on 
purpose  to  see  it." 

"  I  reckon  it  is  having  a  little  private  confab  with  Aunt 
Sally,  telling  her  where  to  find  the  biggest  ripe  berries," 
Dorothy  said,  peering  into  the  gum  of  the  spring.  "I 
see  she  has  come  and  got  her  milk-jug.  Who  knows 
but  she  is  lunching  with  his  ghostship  up  at  the 
house?" 

"Not  she!"  Harriet  said.  "  Don't  you  remember  how 
'fraid  de  ve'y  thoughts  ub  it  hit'  makes  her?  She  told 
me,  'It  dest  yowled  an'  yowled,  same  like  er  wild- 
cat.' " 

"Something  —  somebody  —  is  yowling  and  howling 
now.  Listen!  Don't  you  hear  it?"  Ned  said,  raising  his 
hand. 

Before  the  rest  could  speak  Aunt  Sally  came  in  sight, 
bent  almost  double  with  fright,  and  running  as  fast  as 
her  two  hundred  pounds  allowed. 

"Save  me,  chilluns;  save  yo'  po'  ole  auntie!"  she 
screamed,  as  she  came  up  to  them,  her  face  ashy,  her  eyes 
as  round  as  saucers.  Blood  was  trickling  from  a  small 
wound  over  one  eyebrow,  and  there  were  big  wales  all 
over  one  fat  bare  arm. 

"I's  done  good  as  dead,"  she  panted,  half  sinking, 
half  falling  at  Dorothy's  feet.  "I's  done  ghost  bit,  I  is. 
IV  ole  Sally  won't  never  see  Miss  Miny  no  mo'." 

The  young  people  clustered  about  her,  soothing,  com- 
forting, questioning.  By-and-by  they  gathered  from  her 
rambling  storythat  she  had  eaten  her  dinner  some  hun- 
dred yards  away — in  fact  just  where  the  spring  branch 
made  into  the  creek.  As  she  had  got  up  at  daylight,  and 
picked  berries  industriously  since  she  came  upon  the 
ground  at  six  o'clock,  it  was  natural  that  she  should  doze 
a  bit  after  she  had  filled  herself  with  fried  meat,  egg 
bread,  and  delicious  cold  buttermilk.  She  did  not  lie 
down,  but  nodded  comfortably  with  her  back  against  a 
tree.  No  thought  of  ghosts  or  goblins  disturbed  her, 
since  all  previous  appearances  of  the  white  terror  had 
been  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  tumble-down  carria'ji.- 
house  at  the  edge  of  the  yard.  That  was  a  good  half- 
mile  off.  Naturally  no  well-bred  spirit  would  be  expect- 
ed to  come  so  far  afield  at  midday.  Therein  she  reckon- 
ed without  her  ghost.  As  she  sat  dreamily  conscious  of 
the  water's  happy  babble  something  white,  strong-,  with 
fiery  eyes  and  a  voice  of  terror,  rose  up  from  the  face  of 
the  stream,  flew  savagely  at  her,  gave  her  the  cut  over 


'NED!      LOOK    OUT!      IT— IT'S    COMING!" 


the  eye,  aiid  followed  it  with  a  rain  of  blows  on  the  arm. 
"Den  I  runned  an'  holler  fer  all  I's  wuth,  an'  hit  run 
arter  me,  little  ways,  hollerin'  lek  forty  scritch-owels,  an' 
goin'  s-s-s-zz-z-z-z-s-s-ss  all  de  time,  same  lek  ole  he-snake. 
Hit  would  er  eat  me  up  sho  ef  I  hadn't  took  out  an'  toted 
myself  'way  frum  dar  lek  I  done,"  Aunt  Sally  concluded. 

Her  listeners  looked  at  each  other,  trying  hard  not  to 
laugh.  The  old  woman  had  certainly  encountered  some- 
thing', but  the  thought  of  anything  able  to  make  way 
with  her  at  a  meal  was  almost  too  much  for  their  man- 
ners. 

"  You  girls  stay  here  with  Aunt  Sally.  I  am  going  to 
look  for  this  thing  whatever  it  may  be," Ned  said,  begin- 
ning to  cut  himself  a  stout  cane  from  the  thicket. 

"Hadn't  we  better  go  home  and  let  you  get  a  gun?" 
Harriet  asked,  a  little  nervously.  Dorothy  gave  Evelyn 
a  pinch. 

"We'll  go  and  find  the  monster,"  she  said,  nodding 
her  head  decisively.  "Who's  afraid  of  anything,  broad 
daylight  as  it  is?" 

"  No,  you  stay  here,"  Ned  began. 

Evelyn  snatched  away  his  cane,  saying,  "Cut  yourself 
another." 

Dorothy  had  already  armed  herself  with  a  tough  hick- 
ory wand  which  some  previous  stroller  had  dropped  be- 
side the  spring.  Aunt  Sally  got  up,  quivering  like  a 
mound  of  jelly. 

"  Ef  you  all  is  gwine  go  an'  git  kilt,"  she  said,  "I'm 
gwine  wid  you.  Miss  Miny  she  say  Sally  '11  stand  by 
dem  chilluns  to  de  last  notch,  an.'  shore  'uough  Sally 
will." 

"Besides — you  are  afraid  to  be  left  here  with  only 
Harriet.  Come  everybody,  I  say,"  Dorothy  called  over 
her  shoulder,  as  she  started  down  the  spring  branch. 
Ned  pushed  ahead — the  path  admitted  of  but  one  abreast. 
"  You  had  better  wait  till  I  call  you,"  he  said  to  the  fem- 
inine contingent.  By  way  of  answer  Dorothy  prodded 
the  back  of  his  head  with  her  wand. 

As  they  n eared  the  creek  a  nervous  thrill  went  through 
all.  In  spite  of  their  laughing  courage,  each  felt  that 


they  were  upon  the  point  of  an  encounter  out  of  the 
common.  At  almost  every  step  Aunt  Sally  gave  a  groan- 
ing sigh.  Harriet  hung  back  with  her — the  others  were 
full  twenty  yards  in  front. 

"There!  I  see  it!  That  big  white  thing  on  the  water!" 
Evelyn  called,  her  voice  sharp  and  shrill.  "  Ned!  Look 
out!  It — it's  coming!" 

"I'm  here!"  Ned  shouted,  putting  up  his  cudgel  and 
standing  firm.  Dorothy  forced  her  way  through  the 
tangle  to  his  elbow— then  the  two  of  them  stepped  out 
into  clear  space  upon  the  creek  bank. 

The  white  thing  charged  upon  them — a  fury  of  beak 
and  wings,  shrilling  out  long  cries,  with  hisses  between. 
Three  raps  of  the  cudgel  put  it  to  flight,  then  Dorothy 
cried,  joyfully,  "Why,  I  know  what  it  is! — the  swan  my 
Uncle  John  shot,  and  tried  to  tame  last  winter.  He 
broke  its  wing  as  it  was  flying  over — and  kept  it  until 
the  wound  healed.  It  was  in  a  joint — so  Master  Swan 
could  not  fly  far.  He  has  been  wondering  ever  since 
April  what  became  of  the  creature." 

"And  I  know  why  he  is  so  fierce,"  Ned  said,  looking 
after  the  big  bird  as  it  swam  away,  still  hissing  and  ruf- 
fling its  feathers.  "See!  There  is  its  mate — and  some 
cygnets — there,  in  shadow  of  the  bank.  He  must  have 
called  her  out  of  a  flock  passing  over,  and  persuaded  her 
to  stay  and  cheer  his  loneliness." 

"Oh,  the  dear,  cunning  old  rascal!"  Dorothy  said. 
"That  must  be  the  way  of  it — he  ran  off  to  this  wild 
place — liked  it,  set  up  housekeeping,  and  has  been  skulk- 
ing about  ever  since.  There  is  a  beautiful  clear  pond  up 
by  the  old  carriage-house.  I  dare  say  the  nest  was  in 
the  sedges  about  it." 

That  proved  to  have  been  the  case.  A  little  search  re- 
vealed the  deserted  nest,  still  full  of  big  shells.  The  swan 
family  itself  eluded  further  observation,  but  as  they  went 
home,  Evelyn  said,  triumphantly: 

"  We've  had  heaps  of  fun — saved  Aunt  Sally's  life — 
for  she  says  so — and  laid  the  ghost.  Decidedly,  I  think 
our  day  in  the  strawberry  patch  has  been  a  great  suc- 
cess." 


410 


HAEPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVL 


DEVELOPMENT   OF   THE  BICYCLE. 

NOW  that  the  frost  is  coming  out  of  the  gronud  the  country 
roads  will  soon  be  in  good  order,  and  the  bicyclists  will 
have  frequent  chances  to  enjoy  the  sport  they  find  so  beneficial 
and  exhilarating.  And  this  spring  there  will  be  many  more  bi- 
cyclists than  ever  before,  as  wheeling  has  grown  in  popularity 
with  wonderful  rapidity.  At  this  time  there  are  something 
like  one  million  bicycle  riders  in  tin-  United  States,  and  it  is 
predicted  by  those  who  are  interested  in  the  manufacture  of 
these  machines  that  within  three  years  there  will  be  three  and 
a  half  million  persons  who  either  use  the  bicycle  habitually  or 
i-asnally.  When  the  fact  be  considered  that  a  bicycle  rider  can 
no  si\  miles  with  the  equivalent  amount  of  power  expended  in 
walking  one  mile, it  is  not  wonderful  that  bicycling  should  be  so 
popular.  But  the  history  of  the  machine  is  interesting.  The 
first  thing  <if  the  kind  we  had  in  this  country  was  Lallemont's 
uooilcn  velocipede,  which  shook  nearly  all  the  bones  out  of  a 
rider's  body. 

Following  the  wooden  velocipede,  which  was  introduced  in  1867 
— a  picture  of  the  first  one  made  in  this  country  is  in  this  paper 
— we  had  tin-  same  machine  fitted  with  rubber  tires  in  order  to 
make  it  run  mure  smoothly.  Then  we  had  the  same  machine  built 
of  steel  and  iron,  and  this  was  still  a  bone-shaker  and  a  bone- 
breaker.  Then  the  bicycle  with  a  tall  front  wheel  and  a  low 
hind  wheel  was  introduced.  This  grew  in  popularity,  and  af- 
forded rare  and  dangerous  sport.  On  this  wheel  great  speed 
was  attained,  and  the  manufacturers  displayed  much  skill  and 
ingenuity  in  its  improvement.  Then,  in  1887,  we  had  the  safety 
machine,  the  one  now  in  use.  In  less  than  three  years  this  type 
became  so  popular  that  all  others  went  out  of  use.  It  has  been 
constantly  improved,  and  the  price  has  steadily  fallen  with  the 
weight.  In  1*90,  for  road  use,  a  man  of  average  weight  needed 
a  machine  weighing  about  fifty  pounds.  The  cost  of  one  of  these 
machines  of  the  best  manufacture  was  $150.  Now  a  capital  ma- 
chine, strong  enough  for  road  use,  may  be  had  for  $100,  and  its 
weight  will  not  exceed  twenty-seven  pounds.  For  racing  and 
track  work  much  lighter  machines  are  used. 

Some  of  the  novelties  that  have  recently  been  invented  are 
worthy  of  note.  There  is  a  tricycle  made  for  two  riders,  who 
sit  side  by  side.  It  is  said  that  if  only  one  of  the  riders  is  an 
expert  this  machine  can  be  used  satisfactorily.  The  advan- 
tage claimed  for  it  is  that  the  rider  can  always  have  company 
and  therefore  escape  loneliness.  Another  machine  is  a  tricycle, 
though  rim  on  the  safety-bicycle  principle,  and  is  a  delivery 
wagon  for  small  parcels.  This  is  a  novelty  hereabouts,  but  not 
so  iu  England,  where  small  tradesmen  and  also  mail-carriers 
have  used  such  vehicles  for  many  years. 

Two  other  very  interesting  and  new  machines  are,  first,  a  mil- 
itary bicycle,  which  is  shown  in  the  illustration  accompany- 
ing this  article  iu  its  compact  form.  The  rider  carries  his  rifle 
in  a  convenient  position,  and  hanging  beneath  tbe  bar  sup- 
porting the  seat  is  a  large  leather  water-proof  compartment 
iu  which  the  soldier's  kit  is  kept  with  his  ammunition.  These 
bicycles  are  remarkably  light  and  strong,  and  are  being  intro- 
duced not  only  in  the  National  Guard  of  America,  but  in  the 
regular  army  of  several  European  countries.  Tbe  other  is  what 
is  known  as  the  "Quad,"  which  carries  four  riders,  one  behind 
the  other,  and  which  must  be  a  most  amusing  vehicle  to  travel 
through  the  country  on. 

But  perhaps  the  most  interesting  bicycle  of  recent  make  is 
the  motor  cycle.  If  this  proves  successful,  practically  speaking, 
it  will  be  one  of  the  most  remarkable  vehicles  for  travel  that 
lias  yet  been  known  in  this  or  in  any  other  country  The  pneu- 
matic tires  are  very  much  larger  than  those  of  any  other  bicycle, 
the  idea  being  to  furnish  a  cushion  that  will  not  he  affected  by 
any  uuevenuesses,  even  large  ones,  in  the  road  over  which  the 
ridrr  travels.  Attached  to  the  rear  wheel  is  a  mechanism  which 
develops  the  power  to  send  the  machine  forward  by  means  of  a 
small  two-cylinder  explosion  naphtha  engine  of  about  two-horse 
power,  which  weighs  twelve  pounds.  This  bicycle  it  is  said  will 
go  at  the  rate  of  from  twenty-five  to  thirty  miles  an  hour,  which 
is  as  fast  as  most  of  the  railway  trains  iu  the  Uuited  States  move. 
This  means  that  if  the  motor  cycle  is  practicable,  a  man  may 
travel  through  the  country  at  as  fast  a  rate  as  the  average  rail- 
way train,  and  he  can  get  from  Boston  to  New  York  within  ten 
hours- 

A  SURPRISE  AHEAD. 

"I'vn  got  a  paint-bos,"  said  Wilbur,  iu  a  loud  whisper  to  Mo]- 
lie.  "  Let's  go  over  to  your  house  and  make  a  white  and  gold 
parlor  for  your  mamma.  She'd  be  awfully  s'prised." 


GRANDFATHER'S  ADVENTURES. 

A     MUTINY     AT     SEA. 

"  /H  RANDPOP,"  said  Ralph  Pell,  as  he  looked  up  from 

\JT  a  hook  of  sailor  yarns  that  he  had  been  reading-, 
"  were  you  ever  in  a  mutiny?" 

The  old  weather-beaten  head  nodded  assent. 

Down  went  Ralph's  book. 

"Oh,  grandpop,  please  tell  me  about  it,'' the  hoy  ex- 
claimed, eagerly,  "  for  your  stories  are  always  better  than 
printed  ones;  besides,  they  are  a  great  deal  more  inter- 
esting, because  they  are  true." 

"  You  deserve  to  hear  the  story,  lad,"  said  Grandfather 
Sterling,  with  a  pleased  smile,  "  if  only  to  repay  you  for 
your  compliment,  so  here  goes. 

"  When  your  mother  was  a  slip  of  a  girl  I  was  sent  to 
the  island  of  Jamaica  to  bring  back  to  New  York  a  schoon- 
er belonging  to  our  house,  that  had  lost  its  captain  and 
entire  crew  with  yellow  fever  a  few  weeks  before,  while 
lying  in  harbor  after  discharging  cargo. 

"The  Neptune  was  a  very  old-fashioned  vessel,  and 
had  been  built  for  the  naval  service,  but  had  been  sold 
and  converted  into  a  merchant  schooner,  and  a  clumsy 
old  box  she  was,  with  high  sides,  apple  bow,  and  a  square 
stern,  in  which  the  original  ports  had  been  allowed  to 
remain. 

"I  found  it  impossible  to  obtain  a  white  crew,  and 
even  the  better  class  of  negro  seamen  in  the  port  declined 
to  ship  on  a  fever  infected  vessel,  so  for  a  week  I  tried 
in  vain  to  man  the  Neptune.  At  last  I  ran  across  a 
mulatto  who  commanded  a  miserable  little  half-decked 
schooner  that  cruised  around  the  islands  in  a  small  trad- 
ing way,  and  who  offered  to  find  me  a  crew  for  the  trip, 
provided  I  would  give  him  the  position  of  mate  and  pay 
his  passage  back  to  Jamaica.  This  I  agreed  to  do,  and 
two  days  later  I  set  sail  for  New  York  with  the  most 
villanous- looking  gang  of  blacks  on  board  that  I  ever 
saw. 

"  Before  we  had  been  twenty-four  hours  at  sea  the 
trouble  commenced.  The  crew  were  lazy,  dirty,  and  in- 
solent, and  gave  me  to  understand  by  the  way  in  which 
they  responded  to  orders  that  they  proposed  to  run  the 
ship.  From  the  start  I  was  obliged  to  use  forceful  mea- 
sures with  the  men  to  maintain  discipline,  and  once  I 
told  the  mate,  who  was  a  born  pirate,  that  if  he  valued 
his  yellow  skin  he  would  jump  quick  when  I  spoke  to 
him,  and  would  keep  his  impudent  tongue  hove  to.  He 
gave  me  an  ugly  look,  and  after  that  spent  all  his  time 
forward  with  the  men. 

"Well,  matters  went  on  from  bad  to  worse  for  more 
than  a  week,  but  still  no  serious  outbreak  had  occurred. 
We  had  carried  a  fine  breeze  of  wind  right  along  since 
leaving  port,  and  by  my  noon  observation  on  the  tenth 
day  otit  I  made  the  Neptune  to  be  in  40  degrees  north 
latitude,  and  iu  73  degrees  west  longitude,  therefore  I  was 
only  about  sixty  miles  east  and  south  of  Sandy  Hook, 
and  had  the  wind  not  died  away  to  a  calm  just  after  the 
sun  crossed  the  meridian,  I  would  have  counted  upon  be- 
ing at  anchor  by  nightfall. 

"All  that  afternoon  we  broiled  under  an  August  sun, 
and  when  evening  came  a  heavy  fog  stole  up  from  the 
southward  and  shut  us  in.  Not  caring  to  keep  the  light 
sails  on  the  schooner  during  the  night,  I  sung  out  to  the 
mate,  who  was  sitting  on  the  fore-hatch,  to  get  in  the 
flying-jib,  and  to  lower  the  maintopmast  stay-sail.  The 
crew  went  about  the  work  in  a  surly  way.  muttering  one 
to  the  other,  and  after  lowering  the  sails  they  left  the 
stay-sail  bunched  on  the  main-hatch,  and  slovenly  passed 
a  gasket  around  the  flying-jib;  then  they  reseated  them- 
selves, with  the  mate  in  their  midst.  My  blood  boiled. 
I  jumped  from  the  poop-deck,  and  made  my  way  forward 
until  I  stood  before  the  mate,  who  had  risen  at  my  ap- 
proach. 


APRIL  16,  1S95. 


HAKPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


411 


"'Have  that  flying -jib  properly  stowed,  and  send 
some  men  aft  to  make  up  the  stay-sail !'  I  ordered. 

"  '  The  flying-jib  is  stowed,'  said  the  mate. 

"  Tliis  was  too  much  for  me.  I  made  a  quick  grab  at 
the  mutinous  scoundrel,  turned  him  half-way  around, 
swung  him  up  over  my  head,  and  pitched  him  down 
through  the  open  forecastle-hatch.  When  I  turned  to 
enforce  my  orders  I  saw  two  of  the  negroes  laying  out  to 
stow  the  flying-jib,  while  the  remainder  of  the  crew  were 
running  aft  to  the  stay-sail. 

"  About  an  hour  after  this  a  faint  air,  just  sufficient 
for  steerageway,  crept  out  from  the  south,  but  the  fog 
remained  as  dense  as  ever.  Twelve  o'clock  had  just  been 
struck,  when  one  of  the  men  called  to  me  from  forward, 
saving-  that  there  was  something  that  looked  like  a  vessel 
on  the  port  bow.  I  quickly  made  my  way  to  where  the 
lookout  was  standing,  and  the  better  toaee  I  stood  on  the 
bulwark-mil,  holding  with  my  left  hand  to  the  forward 
shroud.  Seeing  nothing,  I  slewed  round  to  step  down  on 
deck,  when  whiz  went  something  past  my  ear,  and  I  re- 
ceived such  a  staggering  blow  on  my  shoulder  that  my 
body  swung  outboard,  my  grasp  relaxed,  and  as  I  pitched 
headforemost  into  the  sea  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  mate 
standing  by  the  shroud. 

"  As  I  rose  to  the  surface  I  felt  myself  being  drawn  in 
along  the  counter  of  the  vessel,  and  the  next  instant  my 
head  struck  against  one  of  the  rudder-chains,  which  I 
grasped.  Just  over  me  a  shadow  projected,  which  I  real- 
ized to  be  the  open  shutter  of  one  of  the  square  after- 
ports.  I  got  one  leg  over  the  chain,  then  steadying  my- 
self against  the  rudder-post,  I  reached  up,  seized  the  edge 
of  the  shutter,  and  putting  out  all  my  strength  I  lifted 
myself  on  to  the  wooden  ledge.  After  listening  a  moment 
to  make  sure  that  no  one  was  within  the  cabin,  I  crawled 
through  the  port,  and  passed  into  the  hold  through  the 
trap  door  in  the  steward's  store-room.  Knowing  that  the 
crew  believed  that  they  had  been  successful  in  sending 
me  to  the  bottom  of  the  Atlantic,  I  determined  to  remain 
where  I  was  until  I  could  mature  some  plan  to  escape 
from  my  would-be  murderers. 

"Several  hours  after  I  had  entered  the  hold  a  good 
breeze  commenced  to  blow,  as  I  could  tell  by  the  motion 
of  the  vessel  and  the  sound  of  water  rushing  past  the 
sides.  After  a  time  I  heard  a  voice  hailing  on  deck ;  then 
the  vessel's  progress  was  checked  and  something  bumped 
up  against  the  schooner's  side,  after  which  orders  were 
given  in  a  strange  voice,  and  the  Neptune's  way  was  re- 
sumed. With  a  thrill  of  joy  I  realized  that  a  pilot  had 
come  on  board.  Hastily  making  my  way  out  of  the 
hold,  I  mounted  the  after-companionway  stairs,  and  ap- 
peared on  deck  just  in  time  to  hear  my  treasure  of  a  mate 
explaining  to  the  pilot  that  the  captain  had  accidentally 
fallen  overboard  and  been  drowned  the  night  before. 
When  he  saw  me  the  mate  uttered  a  shriek  of  terror  and 
fled  forward,  believing  that  I  was  a  ghost.  I  gave  the 
pilot  the  story  in  a  few  words. 

"That  afternoon,  when  the  Neptune  sailed  into  the 
harbor  of  New  York,  flying  from  her  maintopmast-head 
a  signal  signifying  that  there  was  mutiny  on  board,  I 
had  the  pleasure  and  satisfaction  of  seeing  my  precious 
crew  heavily  ironed  and  carried  off  on  a  United  States 
revenue-cutter  that  had  hurried  alongside." 


SPORTS   AND    AMUSEMENTS   OF   AFRICAN 
NATIVES. 

BY  LIEUTENANT  A.  I.  MOUNTENAY  JEPHSON. 
JJavt  ££. 

I  HAVE  now  cited  the  chief  of  the  regular  native  games 
which  I  myself  have  remarked  in   our  march  across 
Africa.     There  are  probably  some  others  which  I  have 
not  seen,  but  I  do  not  think  there  are  many.     In  looking 


through  books  of  travel  in  Africa  one  is  struck  by  the 
strange  silence  and  absence  of  detailed  information  on 
the  subject  of  native  African  games,  and  this  leads  me 
further  to  suppose  that  in  no  part  of  Africa  are  the  regu- 
lar games  numerous  or  important. 

But  when  we  come  to  sports  and  dances,  which  are  the 
real  games  and  a.musements  of  the  natives  of  Africa,  we 
have  a  very  wide  and  varied  subject  before  us,  and  one 
which  cannot  be  more  than  lightly  touched  upon  in  the 
short  space  of  a  magazine  article. 

Among  the  sports  of  the  natives  I  would  mention 
racing  first,  as  it  more  nearly  approaches  the  character 
of  a  regular  game. 

Most  of  the  natives  of  Africa,  particularly  in  the  open, 
country,  are  fond  of  running  races,  and  in  their  own 
homes  the  youths  and  young  men  frequently  practise 
running,  and  sometimes  get  up  races  for  the  amusement 
of  the  whole  village,  but  they  have  not  much  notion  of 
organizing  them.  I  have  heard  of  their  running  some- 
times for  a  small  prize,  a  few  beads  or  some  native  orna- 
ment, and  on  great  occasions  for  a  spear-head,  a  chicken, 
or  even  a  goat. 

Their  races  are  generally  short,  seldom  exceeding  a 
distance  of  two  hundred  yards,  for  they  do  not  seem  to 
understand  the  science  of  reserving  their  wind,  staying- 
powers,  etc.,  their  only  idea  being  to  go  at  full  pelt  from 
start  to  finish. 

In  his  book  upon  the  discovery  of  the  Congo  River 
Mr.  Stanley  describes  how  he  got  up  some  races  in  his 
camp  between  his  own  Zanzibaris,  the  natives,  and  the 
Arabs  of  Manyema.  He  tells  how  the  culminating  pitch 
of  excitement  was  reached  in  the  last  race,  which  was  run 
between  Frank  Pocock,  one  of  his  officers,  and  the  noto- 
rious Arab  slave-raider  Tippu-Tib.  The  long-legged  Tip- 
pu-Tib.  who  was  younger  in  those  days,  and  not  so  heavy 
as  he  is  now,  after  a  close  race  beat  the  European,  and 
carried  off  the  prize,  a  silver  cup  from  Mr.  Stanley's  can- 
teen . 

During  our  long  stay  at  Kavalli's  village,  on  the  plains, 
where  we  were  waiting  for  Emin  Pasha's  people  to  arrive, 
we  also  got  up  some  races  to  amuse  the  people. 

The  natives  of  the  villages  near  by  all  came  in  to  see 
them;  some  Manyema  slave-raiders  who  were  with  us 
and  Emm's  people  turned  out  as  well,  and  the  large 
grassy  square  in  the  middle  of  our  camp,  where  the  races 
were  run,  was  full  of  spectators,  all  taking  the  deepest 
interest  in  them. 

The  races  between  the  smaller  children  were  run  first, 
the  runners  being  made  happy  with  a  handful  of  red  and 
blue  beads.  Then  came  some  races  between  the  sleek 
well-fed  Manyemas  and  Emin's  lazy  Egyptians;  but  they 
were  all  so  fat  and  out  of  condition  and  puffed  so  dis- 
tressfully that  the  natives  jeered  at  them,  and  asked  each 
other  with  much  laughter  what  sort  of  people  they  could 
be.  After  this  races  were  run  between  the  fastest  of  our 
Zanzibaris  and  the  pick  of  Kavalli's  natives,  who  were  a 
very  tall  fine  lot  of  men,  belonging  to  the  tribe  of  the 
Wahuma  shepherds.  The  Wahumas  generally  had  the 
best  of  it,  and  received  short  lengths  of  gay-colored  calico 
as  prizes.  But  there  was  one  of  our  Zanzibaris  called 
Sin,  who  beat  them  all;  and  I,  from  my  Zanzibar! name  of 
Boubarika,  having  the  character  for  moving  rapidly,  was 
called  upon  to  run  against  him.  It  seemed  to  me  to  be 
useless  to  attempt  it,  for  when  Siu  ran  he  appeared  to 
literally  bound  over  the  ground.  However,  as  they  all 
clamored  for  me  to  try  my  luck  against  him,  I  agreed, 
and  took  my  place  at  the  starting-point.  We  started  off 
amid  loud  cheering,  and,  much  to  my  own  astonishment, 
I  managed  to  beat  him.  I  received  the  prize  from  Mr. 
Stanley — some  of  the  large  egg-shaped  yellow  beads  so 
much  prized  in  Africa.  These  I  handed  over  to  Siu  to 
soothe  his  feelings  of  mortification  at  being  beaten  by  a 
European.  He  exchanged  them,  I  was  told,  with  Kavalli 


412 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XTL 


for  some  meat,  bananas,  and  native  beer,  and  he  and  his 
friends  had  a  good  feast  that  night. 

It  is  curious  to  see  what  a  passion  the  natives  have  for 
betting.  In  Africa,  India,  and  Ceylon,  and  almost  every- 
where among  Orientals  and  the  dark  races,  I  have  ob- 
served with  surprise  how  strongly  this  passion  for  betting 
seems  to  exist.  They  love  to  gamble  over  the  smallest 
thing,  and  sometimes  they  are  ready  to  bet  the  shirt  off 
their  basics. 

I  remember  once  in  Ceylon,  when  I  and  one  of  my 
friends  were  playing  a  set  of  tennis,  a  number  of  Cinga- 
lese and  Tamils  from  the  neighboring  village  came  and 
sat  in  a  row  on  the  wall  and  laid  wagers  upon  us.  I  was 
slightly  the  better  player  of  the  two,  but  the  betting  ran 
high,  and  it  made  me  quite 
nervous  to  feel  there  were 
sometimes  wagers  to  the 
amount  of  twenty  rupees, 
three  or  four  turbans,  a 
shirt  or  two,  and  a  pair  of 
boots  laid  on  my  winning 
the  set. 

Mimic  warfare  is  a  very 
favorite  sport  among  the 
youth  of  Africa,  and  fits 
them  for  the  real  warfare 
of  after-life.  Boys  at  an 
early  age  learn  how  to 
make  their  own  bows  and 
arrows  and  how  to  use 
them,  and  in  almost  every 
native  village  they  may  be 
constantly  seen  practising 
shooting  or  throwing  small 
spears. 

At  Kavalli's,  where  the 
natives  were  friendly,  we 
staid  long  enough  to^see  a 
good  deal  of  the  life  in  a 
native  village  on  the 
plains.  In  the  mornings 
most  of  the  bigger  boys 
went  out  with  the  cattle  to 
their  pasture-grounds,  tak- 
ing their  bows  and  arrows, 
and  usually  also  their  mu- 
sical instruments,  with 
them.  These  latter  con- 
sisted of  pipes  ?nade  of 
reeds  or  gourds,  guitars  of 
many  shapes  and  sizes, 
drums  of  various  kinds, 
and  little  tinkling  instru- 
ments made  with  long  and 
short  lengths  of  iron,  which 
we  used  to  call  native  pi- 
anos. Whilst  tending 
their  flocks  and  herds  they 
whiled  away  the  time  by 

practising  shooting,  or  playing  upon  the  different  instru- 
ments, each  after  his  own  particular  fancy.  The  effect 
of  these  little  native  herdsmen  piping  to  their  flocks  un- 
der the  shade  of  the  trees  was  extremely  pleasing,  and 
the  notes  of  their  instruments,  though  somewhat  mo- 
notonous, sounded  soft  and  plaintive  across  the  distant 
prairie — for  the  negroes  have  tuneful  ears  and  love  mu- 
sic, so  much  so  that  Sir  Samuel  Baker,  the  great  explorer, 
once  laughingly  remarked  that  he  believed  a  while  man 
could  travel  peaceably  across  Africa,  and  be  housed  and 
fed  by  the  natives,  with  nothing  but  a  piano-organ  as  his 
stock  in  trade. 

Towards  evening,  when  the  boys  returned  with  the 
cattle,  they  frequently  played  at  games  of  mimic  warfare. 


AN    AFRICAN    ELEPHANT    TRAP. 


The  two  sides  generally  stationed  themselves  on  differ- 
ent mounds,  which  represented  their  respective  villages, 
which  they  stormed  in  the  face  of  the  eiiemy.  They  of- 
ten showed  considerable  skill  and  knowledge  of  native 
tactics,  creeping  stealthily  along  in  the  tall  grass,  and 
taking  advantage  of  the  cover  of  every  bush,  rock,  Gi- 
ant-heap, of  which  last  there  were  a  great  number  on 
the  plains.  From  behind  these  they  shot  their  blunt  toy 
arrows  with  great  precision  at  the  enemy.  Though  we 
never  had  the  chance  of  seeing  it,  this  game  is  doubtless 
played  equally  often  by  the  boys  belonging  to  those 
tribes  who  inhabit  the  forest  regions,  the  tactics  of  the 
game  varying,  of  course,  according  to  the  different  char- 
acter of  the  country  in  which  they  are  played. 

This  mimic  warfare  is 
one  of  the  instances  I 
have  already  spoken  of, 
where  amusements  are  so 
largely  mixed  up  with  the 
training  of  young  African 
savages  that  it  is  difficult 
to  determine  where  they 
cease  to  be  mere  games 
and  become  part  of  their 
regular  education.* 

In  those  countries 
where  there  are  lakes  and 
rivers,  swimming,  water 
races,  the  management  of 
canoes,  etc.,  enter  largely 
into  the  sports  and  amuse- 
ments of  the  Africans. 
The  little  boys  take  to  the 
water  like  ducks,  and  at 
an  early  age  become  ex- 
pert. swimmers.  It  is  curi- 
ous that  in  swimming  the 
negroes  do  not  strike  out 
with  their  arms  as  we  do, 
but  almost  always  swim 
with  a  hand-over-hand  ac- 
tion, lifting  their  arms 
high  over  their  heads  with 
a  good  deal  of  splashing, 
and  turning  their  bodies 
from  side  to  side  with  each 
stroke.  As  a  rule,  they 
swim  much  faster  than  the 
white  man. 

The  climate  being  hot, 
they  naturally  spend  a 
good  deal  of  time  in  the 
water,  and  sometimes  get 
up  veritable  water  fetes — 
diving,  playing  ball, 
jumping  over  obstacles,  or 
having  canoe-races. 

In  some  parts  of  Africa, 
especially  on  the  lakes  and 

the  Upper  Nile,  the  natives  make  triangular-shaped  rafts 
of  am  batch  wood,  a  kind  of  pithy  tree  which  grows  at 
the  water's  edge,  and  is  lighter  than  cork.  On  these  rafts 
they  paddle  about  among  the  creeks  and  bays  harpoon- 
ing hippopotami  or  large  fish.  In  fishing,  the  natives 
do  not  use  hooks  and  lines  very  largely,  but  employ  a 
variety  of  nets,  baskets,  and  other  traps. 

Owing  to  the  difficulty  of  killing  the  larger  game — ex- 

*  As  I  write,  a  Swedish  lady,  who  has  a  mission  station  in  Abyssinia 
for  freed  slave  children,  lias  just  given  me  a  striking  instance  of  this. 
She  tells  me  that  people  often  send  her  out  dolls  and  various  other 
toys  for  her  little  girls,  but  these  children  of  only  four  and  five  years  of 
age  always  prefer  to  have  as  toys  little  wooden  pestles  and  mortars,  in 
which  they  can  pound  corn  like  the  women,  and  thus  find  their  amuse- 
ment in  doing  some  useful  work. 


APRIL  16,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


413 


cept  at  very  close  quarters — with  such 
weapons  as  spears  and  arrows,  the  natives 
have  recourse  to  trapping-,  and  become 
exceedingly  skilful  trappers. 

The  little  dwarfs  in  the  forest,  who  de- 
pend almost  entirely  upon  the  game  they 
kill,  were  among  the  cleverest  hunters, 
and  employed  a  variety  of  ingenious  meth- 
ods in  trapping  all  kinds  of  animals. 

One  of  the  common  methods  they  em- 
ploy for  trapping  elephants,  buffaloes, 
and  the  larger  game  is  by  digging  deep 
wedge-shaped  pits,  which  they  cover  over 
with  small  boughs  and  leaves  and  a  thin 
coating  of  earth.  They  dig  these  pits 
across  the  tracks  which  are  used  by  the 
elephants,  and  conceal  them  so  artfully 
that  only  a  practised  eye  can  distinguish 
them  from  the  surrounding  ground. 

The  elephants  and  other  game,  march- 
ing unsuspectingly  along  their  tracks,  fall 
into  these  pits,  from  which  they  are  un- 
able to  extricate  themselves,  and  the  na- 
tives easily  despatch  them  with  their 
spears. 

I  myself,  walking  carelessly  along  one 
day  in  the  forest,  was  considerably   sur- 
prised  at   feeling    the    ground    suddenly 
give  way  under  my  feet,  and  finding  my- 
self at  the  bottom  of   a  pit  some  fifteen  feet  deep,  from 
which  ignominious  position  my  men  hauled  me  out  with 
much  laughter. 

Another  method  which  the  dwarfs  commonly  employ  in 
trapping  large  game  is  by  fastening  a  large  spear-head  in 
a  heavy  log  of  wood,  which  they  fix  to  a  high  branch  over- 
hanging the  track,  passing  a  long  rattan  creeper  attached 
to  a  kind  of  trigger  across  the  path.  The  elephant  passing 
underneath  kicks  the  rattan  rope,  which  loosens  the  trig- 
ger above,  and  down  falls  the  log  like  lightning,  driv- 
ing the  spear  through  the  elephant's  head  or  neck. 

For  the  smaller  game,  such  as  monkeys,  wild  pig, 
bush-buck,  various  rodents,  etc.,  they  have  a  variety  of 
extremely  ingenious  traps  and  nooses  made  of  twisted 
elephant  hair  or  wire. 

The  natives  on  the  grass -lands  sometimes  organize 
large  hunting  parties,  and  destroy  great  herds  of  game 
by  lighting  fires  in  a  large  circle,  often  some  miles  in 
circumference,  in  a  tract  of  country  where  game  abounds. 
The  fires  quickly  spread  in  the  long  dry  grass,  and  the 
terrified  animals,  being  driven  together  in  a  herd  by  the 
narrowing  circle  of  fire,  are  easily  killed  by  the  natives 
or  are  stifled  by  the  smoke.  Once,  near  Kavalli's  village, 
I  saw  an  exciting  rat-hunt.  Numbers  of  men  and  boys 
turned  out  and  lit  grass  fires  in  a  part  of  the  plain  which 
was  infested  by  rats.  The  rats  cleared  out  in  swarms 
before  the  advancing  fires,  and  were  quickly  despatched 
by  the  natives,  who  stood  round  in  a  circle  with  sticks. 
Many  hundreds  of  rats  were  killed  in  this  way,  and  were 
afterwards  eaten  by  the  natives,  who  are  very  fond  of 
them. 

In  all  these  sports  the  boys  and  young  people  take  an 
active  part,  and  at  an  early  age  become  skilful  hunters. 

In  Africa  there  is  a  breed  of  dogs  which,  according  to 
Darwin,  the  greatest  of  scientists,  are  the  aboriginal  dogs, 
and  from  them  all  other  breeds  have  sprung.  They  are 
of  a  black-and-tan  or  yellowish  color,  tall,  lank,  and  ugly, 
with  sharp  pointed  noses. 

The  natives  are  very  much  attached  to  these  dogs,  and 
usually  have  a  good  number  of  them.  But  I  have  nev- 
er seen  them  used  for  sporting  purposes,  though  I  am 
told  in  South  Africa  they  are  sometimes  employed  in 
hunting. 

I  cannot  conclude  this  article  on  the  sports  and  amuse- 


A    NATIVE    FOOT-RACE. 

ments  of  the  Africans  without  mentioning  dancing,  for 
among  the  negroes  dancing  is  a  veritable  passion.  Some 
one  has  said,  and  with  a  good  deal  of  truth,  "  When  the 
sun  goes  down  all  Africa  dances." 

Dances  of  every  description  enter  largely  into  the  lives 
of  all  Africans,  whether  boys  or  girls,  men  or  women, 
each  country  having  its  own  particular  tribal  dances. 
Every  event  of  the  slightest  importance  is  celebrated  by 
a  dance.  If  war  is  declared,  on  the  occasion  of  a  victory, 
or  even  of  a  defeat,  it  matters  not,  the  Africans  dance. 

The  birth  of  a  child,  the  marriage  or  death  of  any  of 
the  tribe,  the  arrival  of  a  stranger,  or  what  not,  it  is  all 
the  same — nothing  can  be  done  without  dancing. 

There  are  war-dances,  hunting-dances,  funeral-dances; 
there  are  welcoming -dances,  speed- the -parting -guest 
dances;  there  are  every  sort  and  kind  of  dances  among- 
the  Africans,  who  keep  them  up  for  hours  together,  until 
they  almost  drop  from  fatigue. 

Some  of  their  dances  are  sad;  others  are  gay;  some  are 
warlike,  while  others  are  peaceful;  for  the  negroes  seem 
to  have  dances  to  suit  every  mood  and  every  occa- 
sion. 

In  most  of  these  dances  the  orchestra,  consisting  chiefly 
of  drums  and  pipes,  is  placed  in  the  middle,  while  the 
people  dance  round  it. 

To  this  clanging,  monotonous,  barbaric  music  the  ne- 
groes dance  wildly.  Men,  women,  and  children  catch 
the  infection  and  join  frantically  in  the  dance,  with  an 
excitement  and  abandon  seldom  to  be  seen  anywhere 
but  in  Africa. 

They  go  through  the  most  extraordinary  contortions, 
expressing  hope,  fear,  sadness,  or  joy,  love,  kindness,  or 
anger;  and  all  those  feelings  and  passions  which  human 
nature,  so  much  the  same  the  world  over,  is  capable  of 
knowing,  all  are  expressed  in  the  dances  of  the  negroes. 

I  should  like  much  to  describe  some  of  these  dances. 
for  I  have  seen  great  numbers  and  varieties  of  them. 
All  of  them  are  curious  and  interesting,  and  many  are 
picturesque  and  attractive.  But  I  have  no  space  left  to 
do  so  ill  this  article,  which  already,  I  fear,  I  have  made 
too  long.  The  subject  upon  which  I  have  been  asked  to 
write  is  a  wide  one,  and  what  I  have  written  must  be 
considered,  after  all,  but  a  mere  sketch  upon  "  the  sports 
and  amusements  of  savages  in  Africa." 


414 


HAKPEE'S    YOUNG    PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


A  ^BEAUTIFUL  KALEIDOSCOPE. 

BY  GEORGE  ASHDOWN  AUDSLEY. 

IT  is  probable  that  the  amusing  optical  instrument 
which  I  am  now  going  to  describe  is  known,  in  some 
toylike  form,  to  many  of  the  young  readers  of  this  jour- 
nal; but  it  is  equally  probable  that  very  few  of  them 
have  seen  a  truly  fine  kaleidoscope,  or  have  attempted  to 
construct  such  an  instrument  for  themselves.  If  the 
following  simple  instructions  are  carefully  followed,  any 
boy  having  a  little  manual  skill  can  make  a  very  beau- 
tiful instrument  which  will  afford  lasting  amusement 
and  instruction  both  to  young  and  old.  The  kaleidoscope 
was  invented  by  the  distinguished  scientist,  Sir  David 
Brewster,  in  the  year  1817,  and  has  held  its  place  ever 
since  among  favorite  optical  instruments.  Its  construc- 
tion is  simplicity  itself. 

The  kaleidoscope  consists  of  a  pasteboard  tube,  three 
mirrors  or  reflecting  planes,  two  circular  pieces  of  glass, 
some  small  broken  pieces  of  colored  glass,  etc. ,  and  an  eye- 
piece, made  and  put  together  in  the  following  manner: 


DIAGRAMS    FOR    THE    KALEIDOSCOPE. 


Procure  at  a  glass-store  a  strip  of  thin  picture-frame 
glass,  of  the  best  quality  and  perfectly  free  from  blem- 
ishes, 2  feet  long  by  2^  inches  wide.  See  that  it  is  ex- 
actly the  same  width  throughout,  and  then  have  it  ac- 
curately cut  into  three  lengths  of  8  inches.  Get  these 
pieces  silvered  as  mirrors,  or,  if  that  is  not  convenient, 
coat  one  side  of  each  piece  (carefully  up  to  all  edges) 
with  black  japan  varnish,  and  allow  them  to  become 
thoroughly  dry  and  hard.  Now  procure  a  piece  of  strong 
pasteboard  tube  exactly  3  inches  in  diameter  inside,  and 
8j  inches  long.  You  can  make  such  a  tube  by  winding 
pasted  manilla  paper  round  a  wooden  mandrel,  which  has 
been  turned  to  a  diameter  of  exactly  3  inches,  and  allow- 
ing it  to  remain  there  until  it  has  become  quite  dry. 
Trim  the  tube  accurately  at  each  end,  making  it  8^ 
inches  long;  and  when  this  is  done  slip  the  three  reflec- 
tors into  it,  forming  a  triangular  chamber,  with  their  un- 
covered surfaces  inward.  An  end  view  of  the  tube,  with 
the  reflectors  in  position,  is  given  in  Fig.  1.  The  tube  is 
shown  at  A;  B,  B,  B  are  the  glass  reflecting  planes,  placed 
with  their  edges  closely  in  contact;  and  C,  C,  C  are  strips 
of  thick  pasteboard  glued  in  to  hold  the  reflectors  firmly 
in  position.  The  reflectors  must  be  adjusted  level  with 
one  end  of  the  tube,  and  will  accordingly  be  ^-inch  in 
from  the  other  end.  Small  pieces  of  pasteboard  or  a 
ring  should  be  glued  in  to  prevent  the  reflectors  slipping. 

A  cap  of  pasteboard  has  now  to  be  formed  to  slip  on 
to  the  tube  at  the  end  where  the  reflectors  are  level.  This 
cap  should  be  about  2  inches  deep,  and  may  be  made  by 
wrapping  a  strip  of  stout  paper  round  the  tube,  pasting 
it  well  except  on  the  surface  in  contact  with  the  tube. 
Remove  this  cap  when  it  is  dry,  and  trim  both  its  edges 
until  they  are  perfectly  true  and  parallel  with  the  end  of 
the  tube.  Place  this  cap  down  on  a  piece  of  thin  paper, 


and  describe  a  circle  by  passing  a  sharp  pencil  round  it 
inside.  Repeat  this  so  as  to  produce  two  circles  on  the 
paper.  Cut  these  circles  out,  and  paste  one  on  to  a  piece 
of  thin  clear  glass,  and  the  other  on  a  piece  of  ground 
glass,  each  cut  with  a  diamond  to  an  octagonal  shape,  3^ 
inches  in  diameter.  Now,  with  a  pair  of  pincers,  or  a 
strong  pair  of  scissors,  the  glasses  can  be  gradually 
chipped  away  until  they  assume  the  circular  shape  of  the 
paper  disks  pasted  on  them,  and  the  final  inequalities  can 
be  removed  by  a  file.  When  the  glasses  fit  the  inside  of 
the  cap  tightly  they  are  finished.  Remove  the  paper 
disks  and  clean  the  glasses. 

Take  the  cap  and  glue  a  ring  of  card-board,  a  half-inch 
wide,  inside  it  close  to  one  end.  as  shown  at  D,  D,  in  the 
section  of  the  cap,  Fig.  2.  This  is  to  hold  the  outside  or 
ground-glass  disk,  E.  Place  this  glass  in  position,  and 
fasten  it  with  a  ring  of  card-board  rather  less  than  an  -£ 
of  an  inch  wide,  indicated  at  F,  F.  This  ring  also  serves 
to  separate  the  two  glass  disks  to  the  required  distance. 
The  clear  glass  disk  is  shown  at  G.  The  sectional  draw- 
ing, Fig.  2,  shows  the  cap,  H,  in  position  on  the  end  of 
the  tube,  A.  B  is  one  of  the  three  reflectors.  The  space, 
I,  between  the  glasses  E  and  G,  is  for  the  reception  of  the 
small  movable  pieces  of  colored  glass  or  other  materials, 
the  accidental  arrangement  of  which  forms  a  pattern  at 
each  movement  of  the  instrument.  Procure  from  any 
stained-glass-works  some  small  waste  pieces  of  richly  col- 
ored glass  (such  as  is  used  for  church  windows)  in  as 
many  tints  as  possible,  and  break  them  into  little  pieces. 
Remove  the  cap,  and  take  out  the  clear  glass  disk;  then 
placing  a  nice  assortment  of  the  colored  glasses  on  the 
inner  surface  of  the  ground-glass,  replace  the  clear  glass 
disk,  and  press  the  cap  tightly  against  the  ends  of  the  re- 
flectors at  the  level  end  of  the  tube.  Everything  is  now 
com  ply  te  save  the  simple  eye-piece.  This  is  merely  a 
conical  end  to  the  tube,  best  formed  of  wood  turned  to  the 
shape  given  in  the  sectional  drawing,  Fig.  3.  Here  A  is 
the  end  of  the  tube,  B  is  one  of  the  three  reflectors,  and  J 
is  the  wooden  eye -piece.  A  conical  eye -piece  can  be 
made  of  card-board.  The  opening  for  the  eye  should  be 
about  4--inch  in  diameter.  Paint  the  inside  of  the  tube 
and  eye-piece  with  lamp-black  mixed  with  gum  water. 
The  exterior  of  the  tube  and  cap  ma}-  be  covered  with 
binder's  cloth  or  any  ornamental  material,  according  to 
taste. 

To  use  the  instrument,  hold  it  to  the  eye  and  direct  the 
glass  end  towards  some  strong  light.  A  beautiful  star 
or  other  ornamental  figure  will  be  seen,  produced  in  va- 
rious colors,  and  a  new  figure  will  appear  at  every  turn 
or  shake  of  the  instrument.  These  changes  are  abso- 
lutely limitless,  and  it  is  practically  impossible  to  repro- 
duce any  pattern.  All  are  beautiful. 

The  external  appearance  of  the  finished  instrument  is 
shown  in  Fig.  4.  For  convenient  use.  the  tube  should  be 
supported  on  a  small  wooden  stand  which  allows  it  to  be 
turned  at  pleasure. 

A  YOUNG   PEOPLE'S   SHAKESPEARE  CLUB. 

BY    PROFESSOR    W.  J.  ItOLFE. 

I  HAVE  often  been  asked   to  give  some  practical  hints  on 
the  formation  of  a  Young  People's  Shakespeare  Club. 
The  simpler  the  organization   and  machinery  of  such  a  club 
the   better.     Perhaps  the  following  sketch  includes  all  that  is 
really  necessaiy  in  a 

CONSTITUTION : 

I.  This  society  shall  be  called  The Shakespeare  Club. 

It.    Its  object  shall  be  the  study  and  rending  of  SliaUespeare. 

III.  Its  officers  shall  be  a  President,  a  Vice- President  (\vho  shall  also 
act  as   Librarian),  and  a  Secretary,  who  shall  also  serve   as  Treasurer; 
and  the  three  shall  constitute  an  Executive  Committee.     They  shall  be 
elected  yearly  by  ballot. 

IV.  It  shall  be  the  duty  of  the  President  and  Vice- President  to  pre- 
side at  meetings,  of  the  Secretary  to  keep  the  records  and  the  funds, 
and  of  the  Executive  Committee  to  assign  the  work  of  the  club,  to  levy 


APRIL  16,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


415 


assessments   for  paying  necessary  expenses,  and  to  perform   all  other 
duties  common  to  such  a  committee. 

V.  Any  person  whose  name  has  been  unanimously  approved  by  the 
Executive  Committee   may  become  a  member  of  the  club   by  a  two- 
thirds  vote  of  the  members  present  at  any  regular  meeting. 

VI.  This  constitution  may  be  altered   or  amended   at  any  regular 
meetin"  by  a  two-thirds  vote  of  the  members  present,  written  notice  of 
the  proposed  change  having  been  given  at  a  previous  meeting. 

Other  details  had  better  be  put  iu  the  form  of  by-laws,  or 
settled  by  vote  from  time  to  time.  The  number  of  members 
may  be  limited  to  twenty,  thirty,  or  whatever  seems  best.  It 
should  certainly  be  restricted  to  those  who  are  willing  to  do 
their  fair  portion  of  the  work.  A  dozen  or  twenty  who  are 
heartily  interested  in  the  plan  will  make  a  better  club  than 
thirty  or  forty  if  half  of  them  are  hangers-on  who  do  not  mean 
business.  So  a  small  executive  committee  who  cannot  shirk 
their  duties  is  better  than  a  large  one,  half  of  whom  leave  the 
work  to  the  others.  In  a  club  of  thirty  or  more,  however,  it  may 
be  well  to  have  an  executive  committee  of  five,  adding  a  trea- 
surer and  Hbrariaaor  a  second  vice-president  to  the  list  of  offi- 
cers. 

The  meetings  may  be  weekly  or  fortnightly,  according  to  the 
fancy  or  convenience  of  the  members.  In  a  quiet  country  vil- 
lage they  might  be  more  frequent  than  in  towns  and  cities, 
where  means  of  social  improvement  and  recreation  are  more 
abundant.  The  regular  work  of  the  evening  should  begin  and 
end  at  a  fixed  time,  and  for  young  people  it  ought  not  to  cover 
more  than  two  hours,  say,  from  half  past  seven  or  eight  o'clock. 
Some  Shakespeare  clubs  limit  their  exercises  to  mere  reading, 
while  others  combine  study  or  discussion,  more  or  less  formal, 
•with  the  reading;  and  this  latter  is  unquestionably  the  better 
plan  for  young  people.  Of  the  two  hours  I  have  suggested  for 
the  evening's  work,  one  may  be  given  to  reading,  the  other  to 
discussion  of  what  has  been  read.  If  this  division  of  time,  or 
something  like  it,  is  adopted,  the  reading  of  a  play  will  necessa- 
rily occupy  from  two  to  four  evenings.  About  a  thousand  lines 
can  be  rea'd  aloud  in  an  hour ;  and  the  plays  vary  in  length  from 
1800  to  4000  lines  in  round  numbers.  The  Comedy  of  Errors  is 
the  shortest,  making  1777  lines  of  the  Globe  edition — now  gener- 
ally accepted  by  scholars  and  commentators  as  the  standard 
for  line  numbers — and  Hamlet  the  longest,  with  3929  lines.  The 
average  length  of  the  plays  best  suited  for  reading  in  our  club 
is  perhaps  not  more  than  2500  lines,  and  a  play  not  exceeding 
that  length  might  be  read  iu  two  hours  by  omitting  a  scene  or 
two  or  portions  of  scenes.  This  abridgment,  which  is  some- 
times expedient  for  other  reasons  than  the  saving  of  time.. 'spe- 
cially if  the,  club  includes  both  sexes,  should  be  made  in  advance 
by  the  executive  committee,  who  should  also  assign  the  parts  iu 
the  play  to  the  members  who  are  to  read  them.  Ample  time — 
two  or  three  weeks— should  be  allowed  for  the  readers  to  pre- 
pare their  parts,  and  thorough  preparation  should  be  the  rule. 
Cultivated  men  and  women  can  rarely  read  Shakespeare  well  at 
sight,  and  younger  folks  should  never  attempt  it.  If  a  member 
finds  himself  unable  to  take  his  part,  he  should  be  required  ei- 
ther to  provide  a  substitute  or  to  give  due  notice  to  the  execu- 
tive committee. 

Variety  may  be  given  to  the  reading  by  having  the  songs  in 
the  play  sung,  though  not  necessarily  by  the  person  who  reads  the 
part  with  which  they  are  connected.  All  Shakespeare's  songs 
have  been  set  to  music,  some  of  them  a  dozen  times  or  more,  and 
the  best  of  these  "settings"  are  to  be  found  at  any  city  music- 
dealer's.  Poems  or  prose  selections  connected  in  any  way  with 
the  play  may  also  be  introduced  before  or  after  the  reading,  at 
the  taste  or  discretion  of  the  managers,  and  occasionally  an  en- 
tire evening  may  be  devoted  to  miscellaneous  readings  and 
music  selected  with  reference  to  the  works  or  the  times  of 
Shakespeare. 

The  readers  may  sit  while  reading,  or  they  may  stand,  "  having 
their  exits  and  their  entrances,"  as  on  the  stage.  I  have  seen 
the  latter  plan  well  carried  out  in  more  than  one  club  of  older 
people.  A  space  at  one  end  of  the  room  or  behind  folding- 
doors,  if  such  there  happen  to  be,  is  reserved  for  the  stage,  and 
the  readers  come  in  at  the  proper  time,  book  in  hand,  and  go  on 
with  their  parts  in  the  scene.  Of  course  no  attempt  is  made  at 
appropriate  costume  or  action,  though  slight  suggestions  of  the 
former  may  sometimes  be  introduced  in  the  comedies  for  the  fun 
of  the  thing,  and  as  much  of  the  latter  may  be  allowed  as  each 
reader  is  inclined  to  add.  This  combination  of  reading  with 
half-acting  may  be  made  almost  as  entertaining  as  amateur 
theatricals,  with  a  tithe  of  the  labor  and  none  of  the  expense. 

Other  miscellaneous  exercises  may  be  interspersed  from  time 
to  time  besides  those  already  suggested.  The  regular  readings 


may  be  prefaced  by  a  paper,  from  ten  to  twenty  minutes  in 
length,  by  a  member,  upon  the  play  or  some  related  topic.  A 
"  symposium  "  (a  number  of  brief  essays,  or  a  more  or  less  formal 
oral  discussion)  on  some  general  subject  connected  with  Shake- 
speare will  now  and  then  be  an  agreeable  and  profitable  varia- 
tion in  the  programme.  Topics  of  special  interest  to  young 
people  should  be  selected,  and  there  is  no  lack  of  such,  as,  for 
instance,  Children  in  Shakespeare  (or  Boys  and  Girls),  School- 
masters and  School-boys  (there  are  a  few  interesting  references 
to  school-girls  in  the  plays),  Boyish  Games  and  Sports,  Hunt- 
ing and  Fishing.  Rural  Life  (or  Warwickshire  Life),  London 
Life,  Household  Life,  Eating  and  Drinking,  Holidays  and  Fes- 
tivals, the  Poet's  Birds,  Animals,  Plants,  etc.,  Puns  and  Jests, 
Practical  Jokes,  Slang  and  Cant  Language,  Nicknames,  Popular 
Proverbs,  Popular  Superstitions,  Fairies  and  Fairy-lore,  Plays 
and  Actors,  Foppery  and  Dandyism,  etc.,  etc.  I  jot  down  such 
topics  as  occur  to  me  at  the  moment  ;  and  the  young  folk  may 
safely  take  almost  anything  else  that  is  not  of  more  recent  origin 
than  Shakespeare's  day,  and  look  up  the  allusions  to  it  iu  his 
works.  I  remember  once  asking  a  class  in  school,  "  What  color 
did  Shakespeare  like  best  iu  a  woman's  eyes?"  I  told  the  boys 
and  girls  to  hunt  up  every  reference  to  the  color  of  human  eyes 
in  the  plays  and  poems,  and  see  what  they  could  make  of  them. 
The  results  were  unexpectedly  interesting,  as  certain  of  the 
passages  involve  curious  and  perplexing  questions  which  have 
posed  more  than  one  editor,  and  have  led  to  some  amusing 
blunders  iu  comment  and  criticism. 

In  the  constitution  I  have  suggested  iu  brackets  that  thB 
vice-president  may  act  as  librarian  of  the  club.  In  the  city, 
where  books  on  Shakespeare  are  readily  accessible,  no  club 
library  may  be  necessary  ;  but  in  the  country  it  may  be  advis- 
able to  make  a  small  collection  of  useful  books  for  the  use  of 
members  at  joint  expense.  I  should  strongly  advise  every  mem- 
ber to  own  Dowdeu's  .s'/Ki/vs/K 'HIT  1'riiiKi-,  which  gives  the  best 
results  of  the  latest  study  and  criticism  at  a  cost  of  thirty  or 
thirty-five  cents.  The  boy  who  has  mastered  it  knows  more 
about  Shakespeare  and  his  works  than  the  most  learned  editor 
or  commentator  could  know  fifty  years  ago.  It  condenses  a 
library  into  a  little  book  that  can  be  put  in  your  pocket. 

Of  those  expensive  works  that  may  be  bought  for  the  club 
library,  a  well-selected  list  is  given  iu  the  appendix  toDowden's 
1'i'iiiiir.  Among  the  most  important  are  Bartlett's  Cuumnlance 
to  tlit  Plays  and  Poems,  Schmidt's  Shakespeare  Lexicon,  Nares's 
Glossary,  Abbott's  Shakespearian  Grammar,  and  Halliwell- Phil- 
lipps's  Outlines  of  the  Life  of  Shakespeare.  There  should  be  at 
least  one  fully  annotated  edition  of  the  complete  works  of 
Shakespeare.  I  am  inclined  to  recommend  Rolfe's  edition, 
mainly  because  it  is  a  comparatively  inexpensive  substitute  for 
many  costly  editions.  It  is,  for  all  ordinary  purposes,  a  "  vari- 
orum "  edition,  or  one  that  gives  a  summary  of  the  readings  and 
interpretations  of  the  leading  editors  and  commentators.  It 
gives, also,  a  selection  from  the  best  critical  comments  upon  the 
characters  in  each  play.  It  aims,  moreover,  to  make  Shake- 
speare his  own  commentator,  by  the  fulness  with  which  his 
peculiarities  of  style,  thought,  and  sentiment  are  illustrated  by 
parallel  passages  from  his  own  works.  In  preparing  the  edi- 
tion, I  had  iu  mind  the  fact  that  comparatively  few  readers  and 
students  have  access  to  a  good  Shakespearian  library. 


APRIL  DAYS. 

WHEN  April  days  go  dancing 
Along  the  road  to  May, 
With  here  a  flower,  and  there  a  shower, 
And  never  time  to  stay, 

Then  brooks  are  full  of  little  waves, 

That  race  and  chase  in  glee, 
And  all  the  flooding  rivers 

Rush  on  to  tiud  the  sea. 

Then  spring  the  brave  green  grasses 

On  every  hill  and  plain, 
A  mighty  host,  in  field  and  coast, 

They  laugh  iu  sun  and  rain. 

Then  mornings  wake  in  melody, 

And  mirth  finds  time  to  stay, 
When  April  days  go  dancing 

Along  the  road  to  May. 

MARGARET  E.  SANGSTER. 


416 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


HOW   HE  CLEANED   THE  WOOD-WORK. 

Miss  M ,  a  mission-school  teacher,  prilled  herself  particular- 
ly on  a  bright  Irish  boy  whom  she  had  rescued  from  the  gutter. 
He  was  the  soul  of  chivalry  and  helpfujuess,  and  took  to  the 
catechism  as  a  duck  takes  to  water.  But  in  moments  of  excite- 
ment he  would  occasionally  forget  his  newly  gaiued  refinement 
and  relapse  into  the  unaffected  speech  of  his  street  fellows.  One 
day  Jliss  M 'a  pastor,  a  highly  fastidious  gentleman,  was  vis- 
iting the  school,  and  among  other  thiugs  remarked  pleasant- 
ly upon  the  spotless  cleanness  of  the  wood-work  of  the  little 
room.  "Ah  !  that  is  Michael's  work,"  cried  the  teacher,  turning 
to  her  star  boy  with  a  beaming  smile.  "Tell  the  gentleman  how 
you  did  it, Michael." 

Leaping  up  in  a  perfect  glow  of  pride  and  delight,  the  little 
Irish  boy  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  sir,  I  dun  it  wid  me  fist!" 


A  REASON. 

'•I  THINK  I  know  why  a  boy  that  doesn't  know  his  lessons 
gets  a  whipping  sometimes,"  said  Wallie.  "  If  he  doesn't  learn,  it 
shows  he  isn't  smart,  so  they  whack  him  tilliie  does  smart." 


HIS  IDEA. 

"  PAPA,  what's  twins  ?" 

••Two  children  of  the  same  age  of  the  same  parents." 
''  Why,  I  thought  they  was  a  philopeua." 


THE  WAY   HE  STOOD. 

"  How  do  you  stand  in  your 
classes,  Tommy  ?''  asked  the 
stranger. 

"  On  my  feet,  sir,"  said  Tom- 
my, with  a  look  of  surprise 
that  any  one  should  ask  so 
foolish  a  question. 

BOBBY  (fire  years  old). 
"  Boys,  keep  away  from  me." 

CHORUS.  "Why,. what's  the 
matter?" 

BOBBY.  "The  teacher  said 
I  was  sharp  to-day,  and  you 
might  get  cut." 

WHY  HE  DID   IT. 

JACK  had  said  his  prayers, 
and  then  he  started  in  at 
once  to  say  them  all  over 
again. 

"  You  see,  I  fordot  to  say 
'em  last  night,  and  I'm  mak- 
iu'  up,"  he  explained. 


COMPARING  NOTES. 

"I'VE  learned  to  ride  a  bi- 
cycle," said  Whitty. 

"Hoh!  That's  nothing," 
said  Jimmieboy.  "  We're  go- 
ing to  have  a  roof  put  on  our 
piazza,  and  I  can  fall  off  of 
that  if  I  want  to." 


WILLIE'S  SCHEME. 
"MY  pa's  going  to  get  me. 
a  parrot  some  day,"  said  Wil- 
lie, "  an'  I'm  going  to  keep 
him  in  my  room  when  mam- 
ma reads  stories  to  me,  so's 
he'll  learn  'em,  arid  tell  'em  to 
me  when  nobody's  got  time 
to  read  to  me." 


A  LIFE  OF  PIE. 
"  I  SORTER  think  I'll  be  a 
tramp  when  I  grow  up,"  said 
Jack.  "  They  get  so  much  pie 
to  eat  when  they  ask  cooks 
for  a  meal." 


ACCOUNTED   FOR. 

"  THE  baby's  awful  bald,"  said  Mabel. 

"Yes;  they  come  bald  on  purpose.  If  they  had  hair  they'd 
pull  it  all  out,  and  then  all  that  hair  would  be  wasted,"  said 
Tommy. 


AN  ORIGINAL  LITTLE  GIRL. 
"I  WILL  not  copy  any  boy, 

Not  any  boy  alive ! 
And  that  is  why  I  say,"  said  May, 

"That  two  times  two  make  five." 


A  REASON. 

"WELL,  Willie,  which  do  you  like  the  best,  Sunday -school  or 
your  every-day  school  ?" 

"  Sunday-school,"  said  Willie.  " 'Coz  you  ouly  have  to  go 
once  a  week." 


EXPLAINED. 

"!T  seems  to  me,  Bobbie,"  said  his  teacher,  "that  a  boy  who 
can  write  his  letters  as  well  as  yon  do  ought  to  be  ashamed  to 
be  so  stupid  about  learning  to  read.'' 

"  Well,  yon  see.  Miss  J ,"  said  Bobbie,  "  when  I  grow  up 

I'm  going  to  write  books,  so  I  dou't  need  to  know  how  to  read, 
but  writing  is  necessary.'1 


III. 


PUSSY    AND    THE    FOOL'S-CAP. 


Cuj.yriglit,  1895,  by  HAHPKU  &  BK.TIIMUS.     All  Right 


VACATION    EXTRA.     NO.  807* 


NEW    YORK.  SATURDAY.  APRIL  20.   1895. 


PRICE    TEN    CENTS. 


ON     AN     ARIZONA     TRAIL. 

BY    CAPTAIN    CIIARLES    A.  CURTIS,  U.S.A. 

CHAPTER    I.  floor  and  ceiling-  of  pine  planks,  all,  logs  and  planks,  leud- 

NEAR  miduight  of  a  late  October  day  a  Lieutenant  of  ing  a  piny  flavor  to  the  room's  atmosphere.    . 

infantry  was  sitting  by  a  camp-table  in  his  quarters  The  mail  from  the  Pacific  coast,  due  once  in  two  weeks, 

at  Fort  Whipple,  Arizona,  reading  a  magazine.     The  walls  had  failed   to  arrive  a  few  days  before,  and  a  searching 

of  the  room  were  formed  of  vertical  pine  logs,  and  the  party  seut  to  look  for  it  had  found  the  mutilated  body  of 


418 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


the  cavalry  expressman  lying  beside  the  trail  in  a  deep 
gulch,  and  the  mail  matter  torn  and  scattered  over  a  broad 
space. 

The  dead  soldier  was  brought  in  for  burial,  and  the 
fragments  of  letters  and  papers  gathered  and  taken  to  the 
Quartermaster's  office.  Officers  and  men  spent  many 
hours  in  identifying  and  matching  the  soiled  and  ragged 
pieces.  The  Lieutenant  had  worked  diligently  from  noon 
till  evening  in  making  two  magazines  and  half  a  dozen 
letters  legible. 

The  fragments  of  each  leaf  were  pasted  on  nearly  trans- 
parent paper,  the  printed  matter  becoming  fairly  visible 
through  its  fibres.  They  were  sorry-looking  pages,  how- 
ever, at  best.  Many  bits  were  gone,  compelling  the  reader 
to  supply  by  imagination  scenes  and  incidents  lost  in  the 
sage-brush  and  greasewood  bordering  the  La  Paz  trail. 

The  young  officer  occupied  a  leather-backed  cross-legged 
camp-chair,  which  rose  high  above  his  reclining  head, 
with  his  legs  stretched  across  the  bottom  of  a  stool  towards 
a  generous  fire  of  pine  knots,  which  filled  the  room  with 
a  flood  of  light  and  drove  out  the  autumnal  chill.  In 
this  comfortable  attitude,  engrossed  in  a  popular  serial, 
he  had  passed  away  the  first  half  of  the  night.  He  was 
just  beginning1  a  new  chapter  when  he  became  aware  of 
the  distant  and  rapid  clatter  of  a  horse's  feet.  The  sound 
came  distinctly  through  the  loop-holes  in  the  outer  wall 
of  the  room — loop-holes  made  for  rifles  and  left  open  for 
ventilation.  Dropping  his  book  upon  the  table,  he  rose 
and  listened  intently  to  the  hoof-beats.  Some  one  was 
riding  from  the  direction  of  Prescott,  evidently  in  great 
haste;  and  as  this  was  a  country  of  alarms,  the  officer 
surmised  that  the  rider  was  coming  to  the  fort.  The  ca- 
dence of  the  gallop  showed  that  the  animal  was  a  pony, 
and  that  he  was  being  hard  pressed. 

A  brief  halt  at  the  post  of  sentinel  Number  One  and  the 
galloping  was  resumed,  the  sound  growing  plainer,  and 
showing  that  the  rider  had  turned  up  the  hill  and  was 
Hearing  the  great  gates  now  closed  for  the  night.  Pres- 
ently the  clatter  of  hoofs  ceased  and  the  rapid  breathing 
of  a  horse  could  be  distinctly  heard.  The  rider's  feet 
came  solidly  to  the  earth,  and  an  instant  afterwards  im- 
patient fingers  could  be  heard  groping  along  the  bark- 
covered  logs  in  search  of  the  secret  postern — a  gate  made 
by  sawing  off  a  log  close  to  the  ground  and  attaching 
hinges  to  its  inner  side — usually  left  ajar  except  in  time 
of  danger.  Then  the  impatient  and  discouraged  voice  of 
a  boy  exclaimed, 

"  Oh.  why  can't  I  find  the  gate!" 

"Seventh  log  to  the  right  of  the  big  gates!  Push 
hard  !"  called  the  officer. 

The  immediate  creak  of  hinges  and  rapid  footsteps 
showed  the  rider  had  entered  the  fort  and  was  approach- 
ing the  room.  The  door  swung  suddenly  open,  and  a 
handsome  boy  of  about  thirteen  years  entered,  hatless, 
clothing  soiled  and  torn,  with  bleeding  face  and  hands. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Randolph,  the  Indians!  the  Indians!  They 
have  attacked  our  ranch,  and  Aunt  Martha  is  dead!"  he 
exclaimed,  as  he  sank  exhausted  on  the  stool. 

"Attacked  the  ranch!— When?" 

"About  four  o'clock." 

"How  many?" 

"Don't  know.     Seemed  as  if  there  was  a  hundred." 

"But,  Willie,  you  are  wounded.     Let  me — 

"Never  mind  me — it's  only  a  scratch.  Send  the  sol- 
diers, or  Brenda  and  all  the  rest  will  be  killed !" 

"How  did  you  get  away  from  the  ranch?  But  wait; 
I'll  go  for  Captain  Bayard  and  the  surgeon,  and  then  you 
can  tell  us  all  about  it  and  save  time." 

Mr.  Randolph  had  not  far  to  go  within  the  narrow  lim- 
its of  the  stockade.  The  officers  sought  were  asleep;  but 
to  his  vigorous  and  excited  summons  they  promptly  arose, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  were  in  his  room,  the  surgeon  bear- 
ing a  small  case  of  instruments. 


Upon  examination  Willie's  "scratch"  was  found  to 
consist  of  a  fracture  of  the  radius  of  the  left  arm,  made  by 
a  bullet,  and  a  flesh-wound  in  the  cheek,  made  by  an  ar- 
row. Neither  was  a  dangerous  injury  if  properly  treat- 
ed. While  Doctor  Colton  dressed  the  wounds  the  boy 
told  his  story. 

Before  he  had  proceeded  far  Captain  Bayard  asked 
Lieutenant  Randolph  to  call  the  post  Adjutant,  and  upon 
the  appearance  of  that  official  gave  ordei's  for  a  sergeant, 
two  corporals,  and  twenty-two  men  to  be  got  in  readiness 
for  immediate  mounted  service  with  rations  for  five  days. 

The  fort  was  garrisoned  by  infantry  only,  a  command 
containing  many  good  riders,  however,  who  were  fre- 
quently mounted  in  an  emergency  requiring  speed  and 
short  service.  For  this  purpose  a  number  of  horses  were 
kept  by  the  Quartermaster. 

The  command  of  the  detachment  was  given  to  Lieu- 
tenant Randolph,  and  he  at  once  sent  a  man  to  Prescott 
in  advance,  to  secure  the  services  of  Paul  Weaver  and 
George  Cooler,  two  accomplished  scouts  and  hunters. 
They  were  asked  to  be  in  readiness  to  join  the  column 
when  it  should  pass  through  the  plaza. 

Half  an  hour  after  the  arrival  of  the  wounded  boy  the 
men  were  in  the  saddle  and  on  the  way  to  Cholla  Valley 
by  way  of  the  mountain  trail.  As  they  passed  through 
Prescott — at  that  time  a  mere  hamlet  of  rude  log  cabins — 
they  found  the  veteran  Weaver  and  the  youthful  Cooler, 
mounted  on  sturdy  broncos,  awaiting  their  arrival. 

The  family  to  whose  rescue  the  detachment  was  going 
had  travelled  one  year  before  from  Fort  Wingate,  New 
Mexico,  to  Prescott,  Arizona,  under  escort  of  the  soldiers 
now  forming  the  Fort  Whipple  garrison.  When  Captain 
Bayard's  command  reached  Wingate  from  the  Rio  Grande 
he  found  them  awaiting  its  arrival,  that  they  might  make 
the  journey  under  military  protection.  The  name  of  the 
family  was  Arnold,  and  it  consisted  of  a  father  and  moth- 
er and  three  daughters,  and  a  nephew  and  niece.  The 
daughters  were  aged  respectively  twenty,  eighteen,  and 
sixteen,  and  the  nephew  and  niece  thirteen  and  fifteen. 

Mr.  Arnold  waited  upon  Lieutenant  Randolph,  the  act- 
ing Quartermaster  of  the  command,  the  evening  before 
the  march  was  resumed,  and  handed  him  a  note  from 
Captain  Bayard,  directing  him  to  afford  the  bearer  and 
his  family  all  possible  assistance  on  the  march,  and  to  see 
that  their  wagons  were  assigned  a  place  in  the  train  and 
their  property  guarded.  The  Quartermaster's  train  con- 
sisted of  eighty  wagons  and  five  hundred  mules.  There 
was  also  a  commissary  herd  of  three  hundred  oxen  and  a 
flock  of  eight  hundred  sheep. 

At  the  first  halt  after  leaving  Fort  Wingate  Lieutenant 
Randolph  called  upon  the  Arnolds,  and  found  the  father, 
mother,  and  daughters  gathered  about  a  fire  busy  in  the 
preparation  of  supper.  Mr.  Arnold  was  making  a  tem- 
porary table  of  the  tail-board  of  a  wagon  and  two  water- 
kegs.  He  was  a  tall,  well-proportioned  man  of  dark  com- 
plexion and  regular  features,  with  black  unkempt  hair 
and  restless  eyes.  He  was  clothed  in  faded  and  stained 
butternut  flannel,  consisting  of  a  loose  frock  and  wide 
trousers,  the  legs  of  the  trousers  tucked  into  the  tops  of 
road-worn  boots.  His  hat  was  a  broad-brimmed  .drab 
felt,  battered  and  frayed.  Mrs.  Arnold  sat  on  a  stool,  su- 
perintending the  work  of  the  family,  her  elbows  upon  her 
knees,  holding  a  long-stemmed  cob-pipe  to  her  lips  with 
her  left  hand,  removing  it  at  the  end  of  each  inspiration 
to  emit  the  smoke,  which  curled  slowly  above  her  thin 
upper  lip  and  thin  aquiline  nose,  and  replacing  it  for  the 
next  whiff.  She  was  a  tall,  angular,  high-shouldered, 
and  flat-chested  woman,  dark  from  exposure  to  wind,  sun, 
and  rain,  her  hair  brown  in  the  neck,  but  many  shades 
lighter  on  the  top  of  her  head.  Her  eyes  were  of  an  ex- 
pressionless gray.  A  brown  calico  of  scant  pattern  clung 
in  lank  folds  to  her  thin  and  bony  figure. 

The  three  daughters  were  younger  and  less-faded  types 


APRIL  20,  1895. 


HAKPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


419 


of  their  mother.  Each  was  clad  in  a  narrow-skirted  cal- 
ico dress,  and  each  was  stockingless  and  shoeless.  Mo- 
ther and  daughters  were  dull,  slow  of  speech,  and  igno- 
rant. 

The  Lieutenant  stopped  long  enough  to  give  some  di- 
rections as  to  the  observance  of  camp  rules,  the  order  of 
marching,  how  to  prepare  for  waterless  and  woodless 
camping-places,  what  to  do  in  case  of  attack,  etc.,  and  was 
about  to  turn  away,  when  a  clear  boyish  voice  called  from 
the  rear  of  a  cedar-bush, 

"  Oh,  Lieutenant,  may  I  speak  to  you  a  moment?" 

Turning  his  horse  in  the  direction  of  the  voice  the 
officer  saw  a  boy  approaching,  switching  a  handsome  rid- 
ing-whip in  his  hand,  a  boy  that  made  a  good  impression 
at  once.  In  fact,  the  quality,  modulation,  and  evident 
refinement  of  the  voice  had  prepared  Randolph  before  he 
turned  for  seeing  just  the  bright,  handsome  lad  that  had 
now  come  up. 

He  was  apparently  about  thirteen  years  old,  neatly  at- 
tired in  a  blue  blouse  and  gray  trousers,  with  russet-leather 
leggings,  and  a  waistbelt  of  the  same  material,  from  which 
hung  a  neat  revolver  and  small  pouch.  A  light  felt  hat 
sat  on  a  well-shaped  head,  around  which  clustered  closely 
cropped  brown  hair  that  showed  a  decided  inclination  to 
curl.  Two  honest  blue  eyes  set  in  a  bright  and  intelli- 
gent face  looked  smilingly  up  to  the  officer  as  he  ad- 
vanced. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  Lieutenant;   "  what  do  you  wish?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know  as  you  can  help  us,  sir,  but  my 
sister's  pony  has  lost  a  shoe,  and  we  don't  know  whether 
we  had  better  pull  off  the  other  three  or  let  her  wear 
them." 

"Replace  the  lost  one." 

"That's  not  so  easy,  sir,  with  no  spare  shoes,  and  no 
blacksmith  this  side  of  Wingate." 

"Have  you  never  travelled  with  a  government  train 
before?" 

"No,  sir." 

"  How  do  you  suppose  we  shoe  these  five  hundred 
mules  that  are  drawing  our  wagons  and  constantly  drop- 
ping shoes?" 

"Then  you  really  have  a  blacksmith?  But  that  will 
do  us  no  good.  Brenda  and  I  do  not  belong  to  the  gov- 
ernment." 

"But  a  part  of  the  government  belongs  to  you,"  re- 
plied Randolph.  "  Where  is  the  pony?" 

"Over  there  behind  the  cedars.  Brenda  is  giving  her 
some  sugar  and  corn-bread,"  answered  the  lad,  pointing 
with  his  whip  in  the  direction  indicated. 

"  Get  the  pony  and  come  with  me,  and  we  will  see  if 
'Uncle  Sam'  cannot  spare  a  shoe  for  a  niece's  saddle- 
horse." 

Returning  thanks,  the  boy  ran  back  joyfully,  and  soon 
returned  leading  a  beautiful  brown  pony  and  accompa- 
nied by  a  young  girl.  The  boy  said,  "  Brenda,  this  is  the 
Quartermaster  who  is  going  to  have  Gypsy  shod." 

The  girl  bowed,  and  as  the  Lieutenant  sprang  from  his 
saddle,  instinctively  doing  homage  to  American  girlhood, 
she  extended  her  hand,  saying,  "I  suppose  we  must  con- 
sider that  brother  has  introduced  us." 

"Yes,  if  'Quartermaster'  was  my  name,"  replied  the 
Lieutenant,  "but  I  think  you  will  find  it  more  conveni- 
ent during  our  long  march  to  know  my  name."  And  he 
handed  the  girl  a  leaf  from  his  memorandum  pad  upon 
which  he  had  written  it.  "One  does  not  carry  a  card- 
case  on  a  frontier  march,  you  know.  May  I  know  your 
name?" 

"  It  is  Arnold,"  replied  the  girl. 

"  Not  children  of  Mr.  Arnold  ?— he  told  me  he  had  three 
daughters  only, "and  Randolph  glanced  from  the  neatly 
and  well  dressed  boy  and  girl  before  him  to  the  three  ill- 
clad,  barefooted  girls  at  the  camp-fire. 

"No;  we  are  a  nephew  and  niece,"  Brenda  answered. 


"If  you  will  lend  me  your  pencil  and  paper,  I  will  ex- 
change frontier  cards  with  you." 

The  pad  was  returned  to  the  Lieutenant  with  the 
names  Brenda  Arnold  and  William  Duncan  Arnold  upon 
it. 

The  contrast  between  the  two  sets  of  cousins  was  some- 
thing more  than  one  of  dress.  The  young  girl  before  the 
officer  was  decidedly  attractive  in  person,  as  well  as  re- 
fiiied  in  speech  and  manner.  How  she  could  be  even  re- 
motely related  to  the  Arnold  daughters  at  the  camp-fire 
was  difficult  to  comprehend.  She  was  a  blonde,  with 
abundant  tresses  of  flaxen  hair  held  in  a  leash  of  blue 
ribbon,  and  a  delicate  complexion  which  the  journey  had 
tanned  and  sprinkled  with  abundant  freckles,  giving  prom- 
ise of  rare  beauty  with  added  years  and  less  exposure  to 
sun  and  wind.  The  boy  was  a  self-reliant  little  fellow, 
who  exhibited  a  refined  brotherly  courtesy  towards  his 
sister,  a  reflection  of  good  home  training. 

The  Arnold  family  history,  incidentally  gathered  by 
Randolph  during  a  month's  march, was  briefly  this:  Bren- 
da and  William  were  the  children  of  Mr.  Arnold's  only 
brother,  and  had  been  reared  in  a  large  inland  city  of 
New  York.  Their  father  and  mother  had  recently  per- 
ished in  a  railway  accident,  and  the  children  had  been 
sent  to  their  paternal  uncle  in  Colorado,  who  was  believed, 
as  he  had  always  represented  himself,  to  be  in  affluent 
circumstances.  There  were  relatives  on  the  mother's 
side,  but  they  were  scattered,  two  of  her  brothers  being  in 
Europe  at  the  time  of  the  accident.  Brenda  and  Willie 
had  reached  their  Western  uncle  just  as  he  was  starting 
on  one  of  his  periodical  moves — this  time  to  Arizona. 

The  different  social  status  of  the  families  of  the  two 
brothers  was  unusual  but  not  impossible  in  our  country. 
One  of  the  brothers  was  ambitious,  of  steady  habits,  and 
possessed  of  a  receptive  mind;  the  other  was  idle,  im- 
patient of  restraint,  with  a  disinclination  to  protracted  ef- 
fort of  any  kind.  One  had  worked  his  way  through  col- 
lege, had  entered  a  profession,  and  married  well.  The 
other  had  drifted  through  States  and  Territories — a  rolling 
stone  that  gathered  no  moss — and  had  married  the  daugh- 
ter of  a  nomadic  Missourian. 

The  pony  Gypsy  was  shod  by  the  soldier  blacksmith, 
and  the  boy  William  who  led  her  to  the  travelling  forge 
was  informed  that  the  train  contained  representatives  of 
many  useful  trades,  and  that  he  and  his  relatives  were 
welcome  to  any  services  the  command  could  render. 

CHAPTER    II. 

ON  the  daily  marches  it  was  the  custom  of  Lieutenant 
Randolph  to  ride  in  the  rear  of  or  beside  the  wagons. 
The  infantry  marched  out  briskly  every  morning,  never 
getting  far  in  advance;  but  it  was  rarely  seen  again  by 
the  rear -guard  until  the  next  camping -place  was 
reached. 

The  wagons  of  the  Arnold  family  travelled  between  the 
guard  and  the  government  wagons.  They  consisted  of 
two  large  canvas-covered  "prairie  schooners,"  drawn  by 
three  pairs  of  oxen  each,  beside  which  four  cows,  four 
horses,  and  four  dogs  were  usually  grouped.  The  father 
and  the  eldest  daughter  drove  the  ox-teams;  the  mother, 
the  two  remaining  daughters,  and  Brenda  rode  the  ponies. 
William  walked,  or  rode  in  a  wagon,  except  when  one  of 
the  cousins,  his  aunt,  or  Brenda  chose  the  wagon  and  let 
him  have  a  horse. 

As  soon  as  Lieutenant  Randolph  noticed  that  the  boy 
was  dependent  upon  the  charity  of  others  for  a  ride,  he 
made  him  happy  by  giving  him  an  order  on  the  chief 
wagon-master  for  a  spare  mule  with  saddle,  bridle,  and 
spurs.  Accordingly  he  appeared  one  morning  mounted 
on  a  little  buff-colored  mule  with  zebra  stripes  on  shoul- 
ders, hips,  and  knees,  and  accompanied  the  Lieutenant 
during  the  day's  march.  The  following  day  Brenda 


420 


HARPER'S    YOUNG    PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


joined  her  brother,  and  for  the  rest  of  the  journey  the 
two  usually  rode  with  Lieutenant  Randolph. 

The  route  abounded  with  game,  and  in  sections  where 
the  column  was  secure  from  Indian  attack  the  Lieutenant 
taught  the  boy  and  girl  the  use  of  rifle  and  pistol  with 
fair  success.  The  instruction  began  in  camp,  where  they 
were  taught  the  mechanism  of  their  arms  and  target  prac- 
tice. 

Brenda  soon  overcame  her  natural  timidity  for  fire- 
arms, and  became  a  successful  rival  of  her  brother  when 
shooting  at  inanimate  objects;  but  pity  for  birds  and 
beasts  prevented  her  from  being  a  successful  sportswoman. 

The  niece  always  acted  as  applicant  whenever  the  Ar- 
nold family  desired  a  favor  of  their  military  escort.  At 
such  times  she  made  their  wants  known  to  the  Lieu- 
tenant. One  day  when  the  train  had  pulled  out  of  camp 
the  two  young  attendants  did  not  join  their  friend  as 
usual.  He  did  not  give  the  circumstance  serious  thought, 
supposing  their  absence  was  caused  by  some  domestic  ac- 
cident or  delay ;  and  not  doubting  but  he  would  presently 
hear  the  clatter  of  the  pony's  and  mule's  hoofs  as  Brenda 
and  her  brother  hastened  to  overtake  him,  the  Lieutenant 
continued  to  ride  on. 

He  had  gone  nearly  a  mile  when  a  corporal  of  the 
guard  ran  after  him,  and  reported  that  the  Arnolds  had 
not  hitched  up,  and  were  still  in  camp.  Halting  the  train 
and  guard,  Randolph  went  back  and  found  Brenda  sitting 
by  the  road-side  in  tears. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Miss  Arnold?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  it  is  something  this  time,"  she  sobbed,  "that  I 
think  even  you  cannot  remedy." 

"Then  you  think  I  can  generally  remedy  things? 
Thank  you." 

"You  have  always  helped  us  so  far;  hut  I  do  not  see 
how  you  can  now." 

"What  is  the  trouble,  please?" 

"Our  poor  oxen  have  worn  their  hoofs  through  to  the 
quick.  They  have  been  obliged  to  travel  much  faster  and 
longer  distances,  in  order  to  keep  up  with  the  military 
train,  than  they  ever  did  before.  And  the  gravel  has 
worn  out  their  hoofs.  We  must  remain  behind." 

"Perhaps  things  are  not  so  bad  as  you  think.  Let  us 
go  and  see, "said  the  Lieutenant. 

"But  we  must  go  slower,  Mr.  Randolph,  or  the  feet 
will  not  heal.  Uncle  says  so.  And  if  we  drop  behind 
the  soldiers,  who  will  protect  us  from  the  Indians?" 

Rising  dejectedly  and  by  no  means  inspired  by  hope, 
Breuda  led  the  way  to  the  Arnold  camping-place,  where 
the  officer  found  the  father  and  mother  on  their  knees 
beside  an  ox,  engaged  in  binding  rawhide  "boots  "  to  the 
animal's  feet.  These  boots  were  squares  cut  from  a  fresh 
hide  procured  from  the  last  ox  slaughtered  by  the  soldiers. 
The  foot  of  the  ox  being  set  in  the  centre,  the  square  was 
gathered  about  the  ankle  and  fastened  with  a  thong  of 
buckskin. 

"Are  all  your  cattle  in  this  condition,  Mr.  Arnold?" 
asked  Randolph. 

•'  Only  one  other's  's  bad  's  this;  but  all  of  'em's  bad." 

"That,  certainly,  is  a  very  bad-looking  foot.  I  don't 
see  how  you  kept  up  with  cattle  in  that  condition." 

"Had  to,  or  git  left." 

"  That's  where  you  make  a  mistake.  We  could  not 
leave  you  behind  in  any  case.  You  must  go  with  us 
somehow,  for  you  would  not  last  a  day  in  this  region  if 
we  left  you  behind." 

"  I  didn't  think  'twould  be  of  any  use  to  say  anythin'," 
said  Mr.  Arnold.  "You  seem  t'  have  all  you  can  haul 
now." 

"We  have  three  hundred  head  of  oxen  in  our  commis- 
sary herd  that  used  to  belong  to  a  freighter.  We  can  ex- 
change with  you.  A  beef  is  a  beef." 

"  Thank  you,  Lieutenant.  I  didn't  think  you  could  do 
it." 


"That's  easy  enough.  Turn  your  cattle  into  our  herd 
and  catch  up  a  new  lot.  When  we  get  to  Prescott  you 
can  have  your  old  teams  if  you  want  them." 

"Thank  you,  again.  I  shall  want  them.  They  know 
my  ways  and  I  know  theirs." 

"Here,  Willie!"  the  officer  called  to  the  boy.  "Bring 
up  your  zebra  and  take  a  note  for  me  to  Captain  Bayard." 

A  note  was  written  and  despatched  to  the  commanding 
officer,  detailing  the  circumstances  causing  the  halt,  and 
the  action  taken  by  the  writer  to  enable  the  immigrants 
to  go  on.  Half  an  hour  later  the  prairie  schooners  were 
again  on  the  road  and  joy  reigned  m  the  Arnold  hearts. 
Frequent  changes  of  draught  animals  were  afterwards 
made,  until  the  close  of  the  march,  when  Mr.  Arnold's 
stock  was  gathered  from  the  drove  and  returned  to  him 
in  fine  condition. 

When  the  soldiers  arrived  at  Fort  Whipple,  or  rather 
the  site  of  that  work — for  they  built  it  after  their  arrival 
— the  Arnolds  made  their  home  for  a  short  time  in  Pres- 
cott, and  then  removed  to  a  section  of  land  which  they 
took  up  in  Cholla  Valley,  ten  miles  to  the  west  by  the 
mountain  trail,  and  twenty-five  by  the  only  practicable 
wagon-road.  This  place  was  selected  for  a  residence  be- 
cause its  distance  from  Prescott  and  its  situation  at  the. 
junction  of  the  bridle-path  and  wagon-road  made  it  an 
excellent  site  for  a  wayside  inn. 

Parties  from  the  fort  frequently  passed  the  Arnold 
ranch  during  the  stages  of  selection,  building,  and  culti- 
vation, and  the  officers  took  much  interest  in  inspecting 
the  arrangements  for  comfort,  and  the  devices  for  making 
a  defence  against  possible  Indian  attack.  The  house  and 
stables  were  built  of  pine  logs,  squared  and  laid  up  hori- 
zontally, the  windows  fitted  with  thick  shutters,  and 
the  doorways  made  to  resist  forcible  entrance.  Loop- 
holes for  fire-arms  were  made  in  the  walls  and  tempo- 
rarily filled  with  mud. 

In  case  the  house  became  untenable  an  ingenious  earth^ 
work  was  constructed  twenty  yards  from  it,  which  could 
be  entered  by  means  of  a  subterranean  passage  from  the 
cellar.  This  miniature  fort  was  in  the  form  of  a  circular 
pit  sunk  four  feet  into  the  ground  and  covered  by  a  near- 
ly flat  roof,  the  edges  or  eaves  of  which  were  but  a  foot 
and  a  half  above  the  surface  of  the  earth.  In  the  space 
between  the  surface  and  the  eaves  were  loop-holes.  The 
roof  was  of  heavy  pine  timber,  closely  joined,  sloping  up- 
ward slightly  from  circumference  to  centre,  and  covered 
by  two  feet  of  tamped  earth.  To  obtain  water  a  second 
covered  way  led  from  the  earthwork  to  a  spring  fifty 
yards  distant,  its  outer  entrance  being  concealed  in  a 
rocky  nook  shrouded  in  a  thick  clump  of  willows. 

From  this  retrospection  the  thread  of  the  story  may 
now  be  resumed.  While  Willie's  arm  was  being  set  and 
wounds  dressed,  and  preparations  being  made  for  the  ex- 
pedition, he  told  the  officers  all  that  had  happened  at 
Cholla  Valley  on  the  day  of  the  attack  up  to  the  time  of 
his  departure. 

A  party  of  forty-one  Apaches  had  appeared  in  the  vi- 
cinity of  the  ranch  near  the  close  of  the  afternoon,  and 
had  spent  an  hour  or  more  in  reconnoitring  the  valley 
and  its  approaches.  Apparently  satisfied  that  they  would 
not  be  interrupted  in  their  attack  by  outside  parties,  they 
began  operations  by  collecting  the  cattle  and  horses,  and 
placing  them  in  charge  of  two  of  their  number  near  the 
spring. 

Next  they  fired  one  of  the  out-buildings,  and  under 
cover  of  the  smoke  gained  entrance  to  a  second  which 
stood  less  than  one  hundred  feet  from  the  north  side  of 
the  house.  Knocking  the  mud  and  chips  from  between 
the  logs  here  and  there,  they  were  enabled  to  open  fire 
upon  the  settlers  at  short  range. 

With  the  first  appearance  of  the  Indians,  Mr.  Arnold, 
assisted  by  two  travellers  who  had  arrived  that  afternoon 
from  Date  Creek  on  their  way  to  Prescott,  closed  the  win- 


APRIL  20,  1895. 


RASPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


421 


do\vs  and  doorways  with 
heavy  puncheon  shutters, 
removed  the  stops  from  the 
loop  -  holes,  directed  the 
girls  to  carry  provisions 
and  property  into  the  earth- 
work, got  the  arms  and  am- 
munition ready,  and  await- 
ed further  demonstrations. 

The  available  defensive 
force  consisted  of  every 
member  of  the  family  and 
the  two  strangers.  The 
mother  and  daughters  had 
been  taught  the  use  of  fire- 
arms by  the  husband  and 
father,  and  Willie  and 
Brenda  by  Lieutenant  Ran- 
dolph. In  an  emergency 
like  the  one  being  narrated, 
where  death  and  mutila- 
tion were  sure  to  follow 
capture,  the  girls  were 
nerved  to  do  all  that  could 
be  expected  of  boys  of  their 
ages. 

Until  the  Apaches  gain- 
ed possession  of  the  second 
out-building  few  shots  had 
been  exchanged,  and  the 
besieged  closely  watched 
their  movements  from  the 
loop-holes.  It  was  while 

doing  this  that  a  bullet  pierced  the  brain  of  Mrs.  Ar- 
nold, and  she  fell  dead  in  the  midst  of  her  family.  Had 
the  two  travellers  not  been  present,  the  demoraliza- 
tion which  followed  the  death  of  the  mother  might  have 
enabled  the  savages  to  reach  the  doors  and  gain  an  en- 
trance; but  while  the  family  was  plunged  in  its  first 
grief,  the  strangers  stood  at  the  slots  and  held  the  assail- 
ants in  check. 

The  body  of  Mrs.  Arnold  was  borne  to  the  cellar  by 
the  sorrowing  husband,  accompanied  by  the  weeping  chil- 
dren. The  firing  became  desultory  and  without  appar- 
ent effect.  Ball  and  arrow  could  not  pierce  the  thick 
walls  of  the  log  house.  Only  through  the  loop-holes 
could  a  missile  enter,  and  by  rare  good  fortune  none  of 
the  defenders,  after  the  first  casualty,  chanced  to  be  in  line 
when  one  did. 

The  family  again  assembled  in  defense  of  their  home 
and  lives,  the  grave  necessity  of  keeping  off  the  impend- 
ing danger  banishing  thoughts  of  their  bereavement,  in  a 
measure.  An  ominous  silence  on  the  part  of  the  Indians 
was  broken  at  last  by  the  swish  of  a  blazing  arrow  to  the 
roof.  Mr.  Arnold  rushed  to  the  garret,  and  with  the  butt 
of  his  rifie  broke  a  hole  in  the  covering  and  flung  the  lit- 
tle torch  to  the  ground. 

But  another  and  another  followed,  and  in  spite  of  des- 
perate and  vigilant  action  the  pine  shingles  burst  into 
flames  in  several  places.  At  this  juncture,  Willie,  whose 
station  was  on  the  south  side  of  the  house,  and  who  had 
for  some  time  been  looking  through  a  loop-hole  in  that 
direction,  approached  Mr.  Arnold  and  said: 

"Uncle  Amos,  I  see  Gypsy  grazing  near  the  spring, 
close  by  the  willows,  and  the  two  Indians  there  keep  well 
this  way,  watching  the  fight.  If  you  will  allow  me,  I 
will  creep  through  the  passage,  mount,  and  ride  to  the 
fort  for  the  soldiers." 

Mr.  Arnold  took  a  long  look  through  the  aperture  and 
replied:  "God  bless  you,  William  ;  I  think  there's  a  good 
chance  of  your  doiir  it.  If  Brenda's  williii',  you  may  try 
it." 

Brenda's  reply   to   the  proposition  was  to   throw  her 


LEAPING  INTO  THE  SADDLE,  THE  BOY  WAS  OFF  AT  A  FURIOUS  GALLOP. 


arms  about  her  brother's  neck,  kiss  him,  and  without  a 
word  go  back  to  her  station.  The  lad  silently  took  leave 
of  his  uncle  and  cousins  and  dropped  into  the  cellar. 
Passing  into  the  earthwork  he  took  a  bridle  and  saddle, 
buckled  on  a  pair  of  spurs,  and  crept  through  the  passage 
to  the  spring.  Standing  in  the  screen  of  willows  he 
parted  the  branches  cautiously  on  the  side  towards  the 
Indians,  and  saw  them,  over  a  hundred  yards  distant, 
standing  with  their  backs  toward  him,  watching  the 
house,  the  roof  of  which  was  now  a  roaring,  leaping  mass 
of  flame. 

Closing  the  boughs  again,  Willie  opened  them  in  an 
opposite  direction,  and  crept  softly  up  to  Gypsy,  holding 
out  his  hand  to  her.  The  docile  pony  raised  her  head, 
and,  coming  forward,  placed  her  nose  in  his  palm,  sub- 
mitting to  be  bridled  and  saddled  without  objection  or 
noise. 

Leaping  into  the  saddle,  the  hoy  drove  his  spurs  into 
the  bronco's  flanks,  and  was  off  at  a  furious  gallop  in  the 
direction  of  Whipple.  Startled  by  the  hoof-beats  the 
Apaches  looked  back  and  began  running  diagonally 
across  the  field  to  try  to  intercept  the  boy  before  he  turned 
into  the  direct  trail.  Arrow  after  arrow  and  one  bullet 
sped  after  him,  one  of  the  former  grazing  his  cheek,  and 
the  latter  fracturing  his  arm. 

It  was  dusk  when  Willie  began  his  ride,  and  it  grew 
rapidly  dark  as  he  hurried  along  the  bridle-path.  Neither 
he  nor  the  pony  had  been  over  this  route  before.  Twice 
they  got  off  the  trail,  and  long  and  miserable  hours  were 
spent  in  regaining  it;  but  the  fort  was  reached  at  last, 
and  the  alarm  given. 


CHAPTER    III. 

WITH  twenty-eight  men,  including  the  two  scouts  and 
post  surgeon.  Lieutenant  Randolph  left  Prescott  for  Choi- 
la  Valley.  The  night  was  moonless,  but  the  myriad  stars 
shone  brilliantly  through  the  rare  atmosphere  of  that 
Western  region,  lighting  the  trail  and  making  it  easy  t<> 
follow.  It  was  a  narrow  pathway,  with  but,  few  places 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


where  two  horsemen  could  ride  abreast,  so  conversation 
was  almost  impossible,  and  few  words,  except  those  of 
command,  were  spoken;  nor  were  the  men  in  a  mood  to 
talk.  All  were  more  or  less  excited  and  impatient,  and 
wherever  the  road  would  permit  urged  their  horses  into 
a  run. 

The  trail  climbed  and  descended  rugged  steeps,  crossed 
smooth  intervals,  skirted  the  edges  of  precipices,  wound 
along  the  borders  of  dry  creeks,  and  threaded  forests  and 
clumps  of  sage-brush  and  greasewood.  Throughout  the 
ride  the  imaginations  of  officers  and  men  were  depicting 
the  scenes  they  feared  were  being  enacted  in  the  valley, 
or  which  might  take  place  if  they  failed  to  arrive  in  time 
to  prevent. 

It  is  needless  to  say,  perhaps,  that  the  one  person  about 
whom  the  thoughts  of  the  men  composing  the  rescuing 
party  centred  was  the  gentle,  bright,  and  pretty  Brenda. 
She  had  been  a  conspicuous  figure  and  a  daily  compan- 
ion on  a  march  of  over  four  weeks'  duration,  and  they 
had  frequently  met  her  since  their  arrival  and  location 
at  the  post.  Her  uniform  courtesy  and  ladylike  appre- 
ciation of  the  slightest  service  rendered  her  had  won  the 
esteem  and  respect  of  every  soldier  in  the  command.  To 
think  of  her  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  merciless  Apa- 
ches was  almost  maddening. 

On  and  on  rode  the  column,  the  men  giving  their  pant- 
ing steeds  no  more  rest  than  the  nature  of  the  road  and 
the  success  of  the  expedition  required.  At  last  they 
reached  the  spur  of  the  range  behind  which  lay  Cholla 
Valley.  They  skirted  it,  and  with  anxious  eyes  sought 
through  the  darkness  the  place  where  the  ranch  build- 
ings should  be.  All  was  silence.  No  report  of  fire- 
arms or  whoop  of  savages  disturbed  the  quiet  of  the 
valley. 

Ascending  a  swell  in  the  surface  of  the  ground  they 
saw  that  all  the  buildings  had  disappeared,  nothing  meet- 
ing their  anxious  gaze  but  beds  of  lurid  coals,  occasionally 
fanned  into  a  red  glow  by  the  intermittent  night  breeze. 
But  there  was  the  impregnable  earthwork — the  family 
must  be  in  that!  Randolph  dashed  swiftly  forward, 
eagerly  followed  by  his  men.  The  earthwork  was  de- 
stroyed— nothing  but  a  circular  pit  remaining,  in  the  bot- 
tom of  which  glowed  the  embers  of  the  fallen  roof  tim- 
bers. 

A  search  for  the  slain  was  at  once  begun  and  continued 
for  a  long  time.  Every  square  rod  of  the  valley  for  a 
mile  was  hunted  over  without  result,  and  the  party  gath- 
ered once  more  about  the  two  cellars  in  which  the  coals 
still  glowed. 

"It  was  in  the  cellar  of  the  house  that  the  boy  said 
the  body  of  his  aunt  was  laid,  was  it  not?"  asked  Doctor 
Coltou. 

"Yes,"  replied  Lieutenant  Randolph. 

"Then  if  all  were  killed  after  he  left — shot  from  time 
to  time — would  not  their  remains  be  likely  to  be  beside 
hers?" 

"Not  beside  hers,  I  think.  The  last  stand  must  have 
been  made  in  the  fort." 

"Then  the  bodies  must  be  under  that  circular  bed  of 
coals,  Randolph,  if  they  died  here." 

"  Probably,  doctor.  It's  an  uncanny  thing  to  do,  but 
we  must  stir  the  coals  and  see.  If  all  have  perished,  our 
duty  ends  here  for  the  present;  if  they  are  living,  we 
must  find  them.  Sergeant  Rafferty,  have  some  fence 
rails  brought  and  examine  this  pit." 

In  a  few  moments  a  half-dozen  rails  were  being  thrust 
down  into  the  coals,  their  ends  bursting  into  flame  as  they 
searched  the  fiery  depths.  Nothing  was  brought  up. 

"Randolph,  didn't  the  boy  say  something  about  a  cov- 
ered way  from  this  cellar  to  the  spring?"  asked  the  sur- 
geon. 

"That  is  so,  doctor;  they  must  be  in  that.  Can  you 
see  any  sign  of  an  opening?" 


,  "Nothing  positive.  Behind  those  wagon-tires  there 
seems  to  be  a  natural  slope  of  earth." 

"Tip  the  tires  over,  sergeant,"  said  the  Lieutenant,  and 
presently  a  number  of  tires,  from  which  the  fire  had 
burned  the  wheels,  fell  into  the  coals,  disclosing  a-  recent- 
ly filled  aperture. 

"Looks  as  if  the  end  of  a  passage  had  been  filled, 
doesn't  it?"  said  the  doctor. 

"  It  certainly  does,"  answered  the  Lieutenant.  "  Let  us 
go  down  to  the  spring  and  examine." 

The  two  officers  and  several  of  the  men  went  to  the 
spring.  When  they  arrived  there,  Randolph  and  the 
doctor  broke  a  way  through  the  thick-set  willows  into 
an  irregular  mass  of  small  bowlders.  Climbing  over 
these  they  found  themselves  at  the  mouth  of  the  passage, 
a  little  over  five  feet  high  and  three  feet  wide. 

"This  must  be  the  covered  way,"  said  the  Lieutenant. 
Placing  his  head  within  the  entrance  he  called,  "Oh, 
Mr.  Arnold — we  are  here;  your  friends  from  Fort  Whip- 
pie!" 

"Thank  Heaven!"  in  a  man's  tones  came  clearly 
through  the  entrance,  accompanied  by  a  sudden  outburst 
of  sobs  in  girlish  voices. 

"We'll  be  there  directly,"  spoke  another  man's  voice — 
that  of  a  stranger. 

Then  followed  the  sound  of  steps  accompanied  by  voices, 
sounding  at  the  entrance,  as  a  voice  spoken  in  a  long  tube 
appears  to  be  uttered  at  the  listener's  end.  Some  time 
elapsed  before  those  who  seemed  so  near  appeared ;  but 
at  last  there  emerged  from  the  passage  Mr.  Arnold,  two 
strange  men,  and  three  girls — but  no  Brenda. 

"Where's  Brenda,  Mr.  Arnold?"  asked  Randolph. 

"  Heaven  knows.     She  gave  herself  up  to  the  Apaches." 

"Gave  herself  up  to  the  Apaches!  What  do  you 
mean?" 

"That's  precisely  what  she  did,  Lieutenant,"  said  one 
of  the  strangers,  adding,  "  My  name  is  Bartlett,  from  Has- 
sayampa,  and  this  is  my  friend  Gray,  from  La  Paz.  We 
were  on  our  way  toPrescott,  and  stopped  here  for  dinner. 
But  about  the  girl  Brenda ;  she  took  it  into  her  head,  after 
we  got  into  the  little  fort,  that  unless  some  one  could  cre- 
ate a  diversion  to  mislead  the  devils  we'd  all  lose  our 
scalps." 

"That  beautiful  young  girl!  Gave  herself  up  to  cer- 
tain torture  and  death!  Why  did  you  allow  it?" 

"Wasn't  consulted — surprised  us.  I  hope,  Lieutenant, 
you  will  not  think  so  hard  of  me  and  my  friend  as  to  be- 
lieve we'd  allowed  it  if  we  had  suspected  what  the  plucky 
miss  meant  to  do." 

"Tell  me  all  the  circumstances,  Mr.  Bartlett,"  said  the 
Lieutenant. 

The  party  moved  slowly  along  the  path  from  the  spring- 
to  the  fires,  and  as  they  walked  Mr.  Arnold  and  the  trav- 
ellers gave  an  account  of  all  that  had  happened  after 
Willie  left  for  Fort  Whipple. 

The  burning  arrows  sent  to  the  pitch-pine  roof  became 
so  numerous  that  the  besieged  found  it  impossible  to  pre- 
vent the  flames  from  catching  in  several  places.  The 
boy  was  hardly  out  of  sight  before  the  house  became 
untenable,  and  the  defenders  were  obliged  to  retire  to  the 
fort. 

When  the  house  was  consumed  and  its  timbers  had 
fallen  into  the  cellar,  a  mass  of  burning  brands,  the  space 
about  the  earthwork  was  clear,  and  the  rifles  at  its  loop- 
holes kept  the  Indians  close  within  the  building  they  had 
occupied  since  the  attack  began.  Not  one  dared  to  show 
himself  to  the  unerring  marksmen  who  watched  their 
every  movement. 

For  a  long  time  silence  reigned  in  the  out-building. 
Not  a  shot  came  from  its  chinks,  and  the  vociferous  yells 
were  still.  But  for  the  presence  of  their  ponies  and  the 
two  sentinels  near  the  spring  the  defenders  might  have 
supposed  the  Indians  had  gone  away.  The  whites,  how- 


APUIL  20,  1S95. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


423 


ever,  felt  sure  that  plans  were  being  matured  which  meant 
disaster  to  them. 

At  last  these  plans  were  revealed  in  a  constant  and 
rapid  night  of  arrows  directed  at  a  point  between  two 
loop-holes — a  point  which  could  not  be  reached  by  the 
besieged — and  where,  if  a  considerable  collection  of  burn- 
ing brands  could  be  heaped  against  the  logs  between  the 
earth  and  eaves,  the  pine  walls  and  rafters  must  take  fire. 
Walls  and  roof  were  too  solid  to  be  cut  away,  and  water 
couM  not  reach  the  outside. 

The  defenders  held  a  consultation,  and  decided  that  in 
the  event  of  the  fire  getting  control  of  the  fort  they  should 
retire  into  the  covered  way,  block  up  the  entrance  with 
earth,  and  remain  there  until  help  should  arrive.  It  was 
thought  that  the  Indians  would  suppose  all  had  perished 
in  the  flames. 

"But  they  know  we  came  here  by  an  underground  pas- 
sage from  the  house,"  said  Brenda,  "  will  they  not  sus- 
pect that  we  have  entered  another  passage  if  we  all  dis- 
appear?" 

"Perhaps  they  may," answered  Mr.  Arnold.  "I  had 
not  thought  of  that.  We'll  have  t'  take  our  chances." 

' '  If  one  of  us  was  to  appear  to  escape  from  here  and 
join  them, "continued  the  girl,  "I  think  they  would  sup- 
pose the  others  had  perished  and  make  no  search." 

"That  may  be  true,  but  I'll  take  my  chances  here," 
said  Mr.  Gray. 

"So  will  I, "said  his  companion.  "A  fellow  wouldn't 
last  a  minute  outside  this  fort.  I  prefer  smothering  here 
to  the  death  those  devils  would  give  me." 

Time  passed  on,  and  it  soon  became  evident  to  the  be- 
sieged that  the  outer  wall  was  on  fire.  It  was  shown  by 
the  black  smoke  which  wreathed  in  at  the  loop-holes  on 
the  northern  side,  and  drew  in  long  lines  to  loop-holes 
on  the  southern,  and  the  fresh  outbreak  of  whoops  in 
which  there  was  a  note  of  exultation. 

The  sun  had  gone  down  and  darkness  was  creeping 
over  the  valley  when  the  first  tongue  of  flame  licked 
through  a  crevice  in  the  roof  and  showed  that  the  fire 
had  gained  a  foothold.  Soon  a  hole  appeared  close  to 
the  eaves,  which  gradually  enlarged  towards  the  centre 
of  the  roof  and  along  the  surface  of  the  earth.  With 
blankets  the  fire  was  beaten  out  on  the  sides,  but  it  crept 
insidiously  along  between  the  timber  and  the  earth  cov- 
ering. 

In  making  the  roof,  branches  of  pine  had  been  spread 
over  the  timber,  and  the  branches  in  turn  covered  with  a 
thick  layer  of  straw  to  prevent  the  earth  from  filtering 
between  the  logs.  This  material  was  as  dry  as  tinder, 
and  held  and  carried  the  fire. 

The  men  stood  at  the  loop-holes  and  compelled  the 
savages  to  remain  under  cover  of  the  out-building,  while 
the  four  girls  exerted  themselves  to  keep  the  fire  from 
showing  inside.  Delay  until  help  could  arrive  was  what 
all  struggled  to  gain.  But  the  increasing  heat  and  smoke 
showed  the  defenders  at  last  that  they  could  no  longer 
put  off  retiring  to  the  covered  way. 

The  word  was  given  and  all  entered  it,  and  the  men 
with  shovels  began  to  close  the  entrance.  When  it  was 
a  little  more  than  half  closed,  the  hole  in  the  roof  had 
become  triangular  in  shape,  resembling  the  space  between 
two  spokes  and  a  felloe  of  a  wheel.  On  the  earth  or  fel- 
loe side  of  the  triangle  there  was  no  fire;  but  the  other 
sides  were  burning  fiercely. 

Making  a  sudden  dash,  and  before  anyone  could  realize 
her  intention,  Brenda  leaped  past  the  shovellers,  sprang 
over  the  embankment  they  were  throwing  up,  and  by  the 
aid  of  a  bench  sprang  up  the  four-foot  wall  through  the 
flame-wreathed  aperture  and  disappeared,  her  clothing 
apparently  in  a  blaze.  The  war-whoops  immediately 
ceased. 

No  attempt  at  pursuit  or  rescue  was  made.  The  Ar- 
nolds and  their  friends  felt  that  it  would  be  useless,  and 


only  result  in  the  death  of  the  pursuers.  The  work  of 
closing  the  passage  was  resumed  and  completed,  ami  all 
sat  down  in  the  darkness  to  await  the  slow  passage  of 
time  and  the  possible  arrival  of  the  soldiers. 

None  of  the  party  felt  sure  that  Willie  had  succeeded 
in  leaving  the  valley,  believing  his  chances  of  passing  the 
Apache  pickets  were  few  and  desperate.  They  had  more 
confidence  in  the  supposition  that  Brenda's  act  would 
cause  the  Indians  to  believe  all  but  the  girl  had  perished, 
and  lead  them  to  depart  at  once  with  their  booty. 

After  listening-  to  the  story  of  the  Arnolds,  Lieutenant 
Eandolph  concluded  that  Brenda  had  fallen  a  victim  to 
the  cruelty  of  the  Apaches,  and  that  a  search  would  re- 
veal her  body  mutilated  and  disfigured  by  her  captors. 
A  rapid  and  excited  search  was  at  once  begun.  Far  and 
wide,  over  the  plain,  through  the  ravines,  and  into  the 
foot-hills  rode  the  soldiers,  leaving  no  part  of  the  country 
for  two  miles  around  unsearched ;  but  not  a  trace  of  the 
missing  girl  was  discovered. 

Once  more  the  detachment  gathered  near  the  ruins  of 
the  Arnolds'  home,  and  began  preparations  for  returning 
to  Whipple.  The  remains  of  the  dead  mother  were  lifted 
from  beneath  the  charred  timbers,  and  deposited  in  a  grave 
prepared  near  by.  While  the  burial  was  taking  place, 
the  two  scouts,  Weaver  and  Cooler,  were  absent,  looking 
for  the  Apache  trail.  Day  was  dawning,  and  as  it  was 
probable  when  they  returned  that  the  command  would 
start,  the  officer  ordered  the  horses  fed  from  the  loose 
forage  scattered  about,  and  the  men  to  prepare  their  break- 
fast. 

The  scouts  returned  as  the  men  were  dispersing  from 
their  meal,  and  Cooler  placed  in  the  Lieutenant's  hand  a 
dainty  lock  of  flaxen  hair  wound  around  the  middle  with 
a  strand  of  the  same. 

"I  found  it,"  said  the  scout,  "beside  the  ravine  yon- 
der, a  little  more  than  two  miles  from  here.  The  young 
miss  is  alive  and  dropped  it  for  a  sign.  The  redskins  all 
left  in  that  direction." 

Whatever  Brenda's  three  cousins  may  have  lacked  in 
education  and  cultivation,  they  lacked  nothing  in  affec- 
tion. They  gathered  about  the  little  tress,  took  it  daintily 
in  their  palms,  kissed  it  again  and  again,  and  moistened  it 
with  tears.  Low  sobs  and  endearing  names  for  the  brave 
darling  who  had  been  willing  to  sacrifice  her  life  to  pre- 
serve theirs  fell  from  their  lips.  Poor  rude  frontier 
maids,  they  had  shown  an  equal  bravery  all  through  the 
defence,  and  proved  themselves  to  be  worthy  descendants 
of  the  race  that  lhred  through  the  colonial  struggles  with 
the  Indians  of  the  Mohawk  Valley.  The  three  girls  gath- 
ered about  Lieutenant  Randolph,  and,  clinging  to  his 
arms,  besought  him  to  go  to  the  rescue  of  their  cousin. 

"Yes,  yes,  girls,"  he  replied,  "everything  shall  be  done 
that  possibly  can  be  done.  We  will  start  at  once,  and  I 
hope  to  bring  her  back  to  you.  Mr.  Arnold,"  he  con- 
tinued, "I  will  leave  you  a  luncheon  for  the  road,  and 
you  must  try  to  make  the  distance  to  Prescott  on  foot." 

"Yes,  sir,  we  can  do  it  easy;  thank  you." 

"  I  would  leave  you  some  of  the  men  as  escort,  but  in 
such  an  expedition  I  shall  need  more  than  I  have." 

"That's  all  right,  Mr.  Randolph.  If  I  had  a  horse  I'd 
go  with  you.  There'll  be  no  Apaches  round  this  place 
for  many  days, "and  his  eyes  ran  sadly  over  the  ruins  of 
his  home,  resting  finally  on  the  grave  of  his  wife. 

Yes,  Brenda  was  alive,  and  a  prisoner  of  the  Apaches, 
spared  by  them,  as  children  sometimes  are  after  such 
raids,  for  adoption.  It  was  plainly  the  duty  of  soldiers 
to  rescue  her  from  her  cruel  fate  of  a  continued  life 
with  her  captors. 

CHAPTER      IV. 

AFTER  a  delay  sufficiently  long  to  allow  the  scouts  and 
their  broncos  to  breakfast  the  party  mounted  and  turned 
to  the  west.  Lieutenant  Randolph  asked  Weaver  to 


421 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME    XVI. 


ride  by  bis  side,  and  questioned  bim  about  the  country 
before  them. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  familiar  with  this  part  of  the  coun- 
try, Paul?" 

"Ouo-ht  I'  be;  been  here  off  and  on  since  I  was  twen- 

iy." 

"  Have  the  Indians  a  camping-place  near  here?" 

"Yes;  they  spend  a  part  of  every  year  in  this  section, 
gatherin'  mezcal.  From  the  direction  they've  took,  I 
b'lieve  they're  goin'  to  Santy  Maree  Creek/' 

"That  flows  into  Bill  Williams  Fork,  doesn't  it?" 

"Yes;  and  't  has  a  northern  and  southern  branch. 
One  of  the  favorite  eampin'-places  of  the  tribe  is  on  the 
southern  branch." 

"How  far  is  it  from  Cholla  Valley?" 

"Fifty  miles." 

"  Easy  to  approach?" 

"  Good  ridiii'  all  the  way,  'cept  a  bit  of  bowlder  country 
on  a  divide." 

"  Is  the  camp  open  to  attack?" 

"Wide  open  after  you  get  into  the  valley.  There's  a 
waterfall,  or  rather  a  piece  of  rips  there  that  '11  drown  the 
noise  of  our  comin'." 

"Isn't  it  strange  that  Indians  should  camp  in  such  a 
place?" 

"They  are  Mezcallero  Apaches,  and  their  food,  the 
mezcal,  grows  thick  round  there.  Besides,  there's  no 
other  place  on  the  stream  combinin'  graziii'  and  wateriii', 
and  they've  never  been  hunted  into  that  reg'ion  yet." 

"Well,  Paul,  we'll  try  to  hunt  them  there  now  if  we 
have  good  luck." 

The  Lieutenant  urged  the  men  on  as  fast  as  possible, 
taking  care  not  to  exhaust  the  horses  and  unfit  them  for 
a  long  pursuit.  The  soldiers  were  animated  by  a  strong 
desire  to  punish  the  Indians  for  their  treatment  of  the 
family  in  the  valley,  and  were  excited  by  the  fear  that 
the  gentle  girl  in  their  hands  might  fall  a  victim  to  some 
barbaric  cruelty  before  they  could  be  overtaken,  so  that 
the  animals  were  constantly  urged  close  to  their  powers 
of  endurance.  There  was  not  much  talking.  Every 
pulse  was  throbbing  with  a  desire  to  get  within  rifle- 
range  of  the  savages. 

There  is  no  doubt  but  the  Indian  has  been  grossly 
abused,  defrauded,  and  cheated  since  the  white  man  first 
made  his  acquaintance.  The  scenes  depicted  in  this  story- 
were  the  result  of  centuries  of  error  and  wrong.  Few 
army  men  are  inclined  to  dispute  this.  The  cruelty  of 
the  American  Indian  is  the  cruelty  of  every  savage  peo- 
ple, white  or  red,  since  time  began.  When  on  the  war- 
path, to  the  savage  mind  it  seems  proper  that  no  cruelty 
should  be  spared  his  victim.  Whatever  opinions,  how- 
ever, the  soldier  may  entertain  of  the  national  method 
of  conducting  Indian  affairs,  it  becomes  his  duty  to  se- 
cure peace  by  war  when  the  resentful  savage  begins  hos- 
tilities. 

War  with  the  Apaches,  the  result  of  gold  hunting  and 
land  encroachments  upon  their  reservations,  had  been 
going  on  for  several  years  when  the  attack  upon  the 
Cholla  Valley  ranch  occurred.  The  detachment  now  in 
pursuit  of  a  band  of  the  tribe  entertained  the  natural  re- 
sentment of  a  generous  foe  for  a  cruel  and  relentless  one, 
and  a  personal  acquaintance  and  warm  friendly  interest 
in  the  family  that  had  suffered  animated  the  men  with  a 
strong  resolution  to  administer  severe  punishment  for 
what  bad  been  done  in  the  valley. 

Near  the  middle  of  the  forenoon,  as  the  soldiers  were 
riding  up  a  canon,  on  each  side  of  which  rose  rugged 
sandstone  precipices,  they  came  to  a  fork  in  the  trail  and 
the  canon.  Not  only  the  track  parted,  but,  judging  from 
the  footprints,  most  of  the  captured  stock  had  passed  to 
the  right.  Weaver  said  the  right-hand  path  led  to  the 
northern  branch  of  the  Santa  Maria,  and  the  left  to  the 
southern  branch. 


The  detachment  halted  perplexed.  To  divide  the  part  v 
of  twenty-eight  in  order  to  follow  both  trails  would  be  at- 
tended by  much  danger.  To  take  the  whole  number 
over  a  wrong  trail  and  not  rescue  B  rend  a  was  a  course  to 
be  dreaded.  Lieutenant  Randolph  called  the  scouts  to 
him  for  consultation. 

"Don't  you  think,"  he  asked,  "that  it  is  probable  a 
girl  who  was  thoughtful  enough  to  drop  a  sign  to  show 
she  was  alive  and  a  captive  would  be  likely  to  give  us  a 
hint  which  trail  she  was  taken  over  from  this  pointf ' 

"That's  prob'ble,  Leftenant,"  replied  Weaver.  "If 
you'll  hold  the  boys  here  a  bit,  George  and  I  will  ride  up 
the  two  trails  a  piece  and  look  for  signs." 

"Go  quite  a  distance,  too.  She  might  not  get  an  op- 
portunity to  drop  anything  for  some  time  after  leaving 
the  fork." 

"That's  true,"  said  Cooler;  "the  redskins  would  be 
watching  her  very  sharply.  Which  way  will  you  go 
Paul?" 

"Let  the  Leftenant  say, "answered  the  old  scout,  tight- 
ening his  belt  and  readjusting  his  equipments  for  resum- 
ing' his  riding. 

"All  ready,  then,"  said  Randolph.  "You  take  the 
right,  Weaver,  and  George  the  Jeft.  While  you  are  gone 
we'll  turn  out  the  stock." 

The  scouts  departed,  and  a  few  moments  later  the  horses 
of  the  command  were  cropping  the  rich  grass  of  the  nar- 
row valley,  sentinels  were  posted  to  watch  them  and  look 
for  the  return  of  the  guides,  and  the  rest  of  the  men  threw 
themselves  upon  the  turf  to  wait. 

An  hour  passed  away,  when  Weaver  was  seen  returning 
from  the  northern  trail.  As  he  approached  he  held  some- 
thing above  his  head.  Directing  the  horses  to  be  got 
ready,  the  officer  walked  forward  to  meet  him,  and  re- 
ceived from  his  hand  a  small  bow  of  blue  ribbon,  which 
he  at  once  recognized  to  be  the  property  of  Brenda. 

It  now  appeared  certain  the  girl  captive  had  been  taken 
over  the  ro;id  to  the  right;  so  without  waiting  for  the  re- 
turn of  Cooler,  the  men  were  ordered  into  their  saddles, 
and  the  detachment  started  over  the  northern  trail.  It 
had  not  gone  far,  however,  when  a  man  in  the  rear  called 
to  the  Lieutenant.  Looking  back  he  saw  the  young  scout 
galloping  rapidly  forward  and  waving  his  hat  in  a  beck- 
oning manner. 

A  halt  was  ordered,  and  Cooler  rode  up  to  the  com- 
mander and  placed  in  his  hand  a  lock  of  flaxen  hair 
bound  with  a  thread  of  the  same.  Placed  by  the  other 
they  were  twin  tresses,  except  that  the  last  was  slightly 
singed  by  fire. 

Well,  tears  glistened  on  the  eyelids  of  some  of  the 
bronzed  veterans  at  the  sight  of  the  tiny  lock  of  hair,  and 
the  accompanying  reflection  that  the  party  had  barely  es- 
caped taking  the  wrong  trail. 

"  God  bless  the  darlint,"  said  grizzled  Sergeant  Rafferty, 
"there's  not  a  ridskin  can  bate  her  with  ther  thricks. 
We'll  bring  her  back  to  the  post,  b'ys,  or  it  '11  go  hard 
with  us!" 

The  sergeant's  remarks  were  subscribed  to  by  many 
hearty  exclamations  on  the  part  of  his  fellow-soldiers. 
It  was  evident  that  the  Apaches  had  expected  to  be  pur- 
sued and  had  dropped  the  ribbon  to  mislead;  and  that 
Brenda,  noticing  the  fork  in  the  road  and  the  division  in 
the  Indian  force,  and  foreseeing  the  perplexity  her  friends 
would  be  in,  had  dropped  her  sign  to  set  them  right  as 
soon  as  opportunity  offered. 

The  Lieutenant  asked  the  guides  if  it  was  not  probable 
the  Apaches  had  a  watch  set  on  the  overlooking  heights 
to  see  which  road  his  party  took  at  this  point. 

"Sart'inly,  Leftenant,  sart'inly,"  answered  Weaver: 
"they're  watchin'  us  sharp  just  now." 

"Then  we  had  better  continue  on  the  northern  trail 
awhile  and  mislead  them,  you  think?" 

"  My  very  thought.      That's  the  best  thino-  to  do.      We 


PLACING  HIS  HEAD  WITHIN  THE  ENTRANCE,  HE  CALLED,  "OH,  ME.  ARNOLD— WE  ARE  HERE!" 


needn't  reach  tlieir  camp  until  after  midnight,  and  we 
might's  well  spend  the  time  misleadin'  'em." 

"Yes;  and  it'll  be  better  to  reach  them  near  morning, 
too,"  added  Cooler. 

"Then  we  will  go  on  as  we  began  for  some  time  longer," 
replied  the  Lieutenant;  and  the  soldiers  again  moved  at 
a  brisk  canter  over  the  northern  trail.  An  hour  after- 
wards a  halt  was  made  in  a  gTassy  nook,  the  horses 
turned  out  to  graze  until  dusk,  when  the  route  was  re- 
traced to  the  fork,  and  the  march  resumed  over  the  south- 
ern branch. 

Night  overtook  the  pursuers  on  a  high  ridge  covered 
with  loose  rounded  bowlders,  over  which  it  was  necessary 
to  slowly  lead  the  horses  with  some  clatter,  and  many 
bruises  to  man  and  beast.  The  rough  road  lasted  until  a 
considerable  descent  was  made  on  the  western  side,  ending 
on  the  edge  of  a  grassy  valley. 

At  this  point,  Weaver  advised  that  the  horses  should 
be  left,  and  the  command  proceed  on  foot;  for  if  the 
Indians  were  in  camp  at  the  rapids  it  would  be  impossi- 
ble to  approach  mounted  without  alarming  them;  while 
if  on  foot,  the  noise  of  the  rushing  water  would  cover  the 
sound  of  all  movements. 

Six  men  were  sent  back  to  a  narrow  defile  to  prevent 
the  attacking  party  from  being  surprised  by  the  Indians 
who  had  taken  the  northern  trail,  should  they  attempt  to 
rejoin  their  friends  at  the  rapids.  Randolph  determined. 
on  the  recommendation  of  the  scouts,  to  defer  making  an 
attack  until  after  three  o'clock,  for  at  that  time  the  enemy 


would  be  feeling  quite  secure  from  pursuit  and  be  in 
their  deepest  sleep. 

The  horses  were  picketed,  guards  posted,  and  lunch  dis- 
tributed, and  all  not  on  duty  lay  down  to  wait.  Time 
dragged  slowly.  About  one  o'clock  a  noise  on  the  op- 
posite side  of  the  creek  attracted  attention,  and  Cooler 
crept  away  in  the  darkness  to  ascertain  its  cause.  In 
half  an  hour  he  returned  with  the  information  that  the 
Indians  who  had  taken  the  northern  trail  had  rejoined 
their  friends  and  turned  their  animals  into  the  general 
herd.  Upon  learning  this,  the  Lieutenant  sent  a  messen- 
ger to  call  in  the  six  men  sent  to  guard  the  narrow  de- 
file, and  shortly  afterwards  they  joined  their  waiting 
comrades. 

An  hour  later  Weaver  announced  the  time  to  start. 
Leaving  but  one  man  to  look  after  the  horses  the  rest 
slipped  down  the  slope  into  the  river-bottom,  taking  care 
not  to  rattle  arms  and  accoutrements,  and  began  a  slow 
advance  along  the  narrow  pathway,  the  borders  of  which 
were  lined  with  the  spiked  vegetation  of  the  country. 

Going  on  for  some  time,  Randolph  judged  from  the 
sound  of  flowing  water  that  they  were  Hearing  the  camp. 
He  halted  and  sent  the  two  scouts  to  reconnoitre.  Thev 
did  so,  and  returned  with  the  information  that  the  camp 
was  close  at  hand,  and  contained  thirteen  mat  and  .skin 
covered  tents  or  huts,  and  that  the  stolen  stock  and  Indian 
ponies  were  grazing  on  a  tlat  just  beyond.  Xo  guards 
were  visible. 

The   flat  about  the  camp  was  covered   with   Spanish- 


426 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME    XVI. 


bayonet,  soapweed,  and  cacti,  with  here  and  there  a  vari- 
ety of  palmetto  which  attains  a  height  of  about  twenty- 
five  feet,  the  trunks  shaggy  with  a  fringe  of  dead  spines 
left  by  each  year's  growth.  Cooler  suggested  that  at  a 
given  signal  the  trunks  of  two  of  these  trees  should  be  set 
on  tire  to  light  up  the  camp,  and  enable  the  soldiers  to 
pick  off  the  Apaches  as  they  left  their  shelter  when  the 
attack  began.  He  also  proposed  a  yell,  saying,  "If  you 
outyell  'em,  Lieutenant,  you  can  outfight  'em." 

Although  the  Lieutenant  doubted  whether  twenty-three 
white  throats  could  make  as  much  noise  as  half  a  dozen 
red  ones,  he  consented  to  the  proposition.  He  sent  four 
men  to  the  flat  upon  which  the  ponies  and  cattle  were 
grazing,  with  orders  to  place  themselves  between  the  ani- 
nuils  and  the  creek,  and  when  the  firing  began  drive  them 
back  along  the  trail  into  the  hills. 

When  these  instructions  had  been  given,  Doctor  Colton 
asked  Randolph  if  the  firing  would  be  directed  into  the 
tents. 

"That  is  what  I  was  thinking  of," replied  the  Lieuten- 
ant. 

"  Of  course  Brenda  is  in  one  of  them,"  said  the  doctor. 

"Yes;  and  if  we  shoot  into  them  indiscriminately  we 
are  as  likely  to  hit  her  as  any  one." 

"  Can  you  think  of  any  way  of  locating  her?" 

"No;  I  am  at  a  dead  loss.  We  will  try  Cooler's  plan 
of  yelling,  and  perhaps  that  will  bring  them  out." 

He  searched  for  Sergeant  Rafferty,  and  directed  him  to 
forbid  any  one  to  fire  until  orders  were  given  to  do  so. 

CHAPTER     V. 

ORDERS  were  passed  and  dispositions  so  made  that  one- 
half  the  force  was  placed  on  each  flank  of  the  camp.  All 
movements  were  made  at  a  considerable  distance  from  the 
place  to  be  attacked,  and  the  utmost  care  taken  to  make 
no  noise  that  would  alarm  the  sleeping  foe.  Once  on 
the  flanks,  the  men  were  to  creep  up  slowly  and  stealthily 
to  effective  rifle  range.  When  the  trunks  of  the  palmet- 
tos were  lighted  all  were  to  yell  as  diabolically  as  pos- 
sible, and  fire  at  every  Indian  that  showed  himself. 

The  front  of  the  camp  was  towards  the  creek,  which 
flowed  over  bowlders  and  pebbles  with  considerable  rush 
and  roar.  The  officer  expected  the  Indians  in  their  flight 
would  make  a  dash  for  the  stream,  and  attempt  to  pass 
through  the  shoal  rapids  to  the  wooded  bluffs  beyond. 

The  soldiers  were  told  to  screen  themselves  behind  yuc- 
cas, Spanish-bayonet,  emole,  and  cacti.  The  Lieutenant, 
accompanied  by  Paul  Weaver,  selected  a  clump  on  the 
northern  side,  from  which  he  could  observe  the  front  of 
the  tents.  Sergeant  Rafferty  with  George  Cooler  was  on 
the  opposite  flank,  and  the  lighting  of  a  tree  on  the  officer's 
side  was  to  be  the  signal  for  one  to  be  lighted  on  the  other, 
and  for  the  yelling  to  begin. 

All  was  done  as  planned.  The  flash  of  one  match  was 
followed  promptly  by  the  flash  of  another.  Two  flames 
burst  forth  and  climbed  rapidly  the  shaggy  palmettos, 
making  the  whole  locality  as  bright  as  day.  At  the  same 
instant  the  imitation  war-whoop  burst  from  vigorous  lungs 
and  throats. 

Every  one  held  his  rifle  to  shoot  the  escaping  Apaches; 
but  not  a  redskin  showed  his  head.  The  soldiers  yelled 
and  yelh'd,  practising  every  variation  ingenuity  could  in- 
vent in  the  vain  attemptstto  make  their  tame  white-man 
utterances  resemble  the  blood-curdling,  hair-raising,  heart- 
jumping  shrieks  of  their  Indian  foes,  now  so  strangely 
silent.  Not  a  savage  responded  vocally  or  otherwise. 

But  for  the  presence  of  the  captive  girl  the  attack 
would  have  begun  by  riddling  the  tliinly  covered  shelters 
with  bullets  at  low  range.  The  Indians  evidently  un- 
derstood that  they  were  secure  from  injury  as  long  as  they 
kept  out  of  sight. 

The  two  burning  trees  had  gone  out,  and  two  others 
had  been  lighted.  It  began  to  appear  evident  that  if  some- 


thing was  not  done  to  bring  out  the  foe,  the  supply  of 
towering  torches  would  be  exhausted  and  nothing  accom- 
plished. In  darkness  the  advantage  might  be  on  the  side 
of  the  red  man. 

The  surgeon,  who  reclined  near  the  Lieutenant,  asked, 
"Do  you  think  anv  of  those  fellows  understand  Eng- 
lish?" 

"Guess  not;  their  neighbors  are  the  Mexicans,  and 
some  of  them  know  Spanish.  You  know  we  always  em- 
ploy a  Mexican  as  interpreter  when  we  talk  with  them." 

"Then  why  not  speak  to  Uremia  in  English,  and  ask 
her  to  try  to  show  us  where  she  is.  The  Apaches  will 
not  understand  —  will  think  you  are  talking  to  your 
men." 

"Thank  you,  doctor,  that's  an  excellent  idea." 

A  soldier  was  sent  along  both  flanks  with  orders  for 
all  yelling  to  cease,  and  for  perfect  quiet  to  be  main- 
tained. Then,  acting  upon  the  surgeon's  suggestion, 
Randolph  called  in  a  clear,  loud  voice: 

"Brenda,  we  are  here,  your  friends  from  the  fort. 
Your  relatives  are  safe.  Try  and  make  a  signal  by  which 
•we  can  tell  where  you  are.  Take  plenty  of  time,  and  do. 
nothing  to  endanger  your  life!" 

A  long  silence  succeeded,  during  which  two  more  palms 
were  consumed,  and  the  officer  was  beginning  to  fear- 
that  he  would  be  obliged  to  offer  terms  to  the  Indians, 
leaving  them  unhurt,  if  they  would  yield  up  the  captive 
and  the  stolen  stock. 

But  before  the  Lieutenant  had  fully  considered  this  al- 
ternative Cooler  approached  from  the  rear  and  said, 
"Lieutenant,  I've  been  creepin'  along  behind  the  wiggies, 
and  I  saw  somethin'  looks  like  a  white  hand  stickin'  out 
from  under  the  edge  of  the  tenth  from  the  left." 

"Show  it  to  me,"  said  the  officer.  "I'll  accompany 
you." 

Making  a  detour  to  the  rear  the  two  crept  up  to  the 
back  of  the  tent  indicated,  pausing  at  a  distance  of  twenty 
feet  from  it.  It  was  too  dark  to  make  out  anything  defi- 
nite. A  narrow  white  object  was  visible  beneath  the 
lower  edge;  that  was  all. 

Cooler  was  sent  back  a  short  distance  to  light  a  palm, 
and  as  the  flames  crept  swiftly  up  the  trunk  the  officer- 
saw  by  the  flaring  light  a  small  white  hand  holding  in 
its  fingers  the  loose  tresses  of  Brenda's  hair.  The  ques- 
tion was  settled.  The  captive  girl  was  in  the  fourth  tent 
from  the  right  of  the  line. 

Waiting  until  the  fire  went  out,  the  two  worked  their 
way  well  to  the  rear. 

"Go  back,  George,"  said  Randolph,  "to  your  flank, 
and  tell  Sergeant  Rafferty  to  move  his  men  to  a  point 
from  which  he  can  cover  the  rear  of  the  camp,  and  open 
fire  on  all  the  tents  except  the  tenth  from  the  left  and 
the  fourth  from  the  right.  The  rest  of  us  will  attend  to- 
those  who  run." 

"All  right,  sir,  we'll  soon  make  it  lively  for  the  ras- 
cals." 

"  Light  up  some  more  trees  when  you  are  all  ready." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

The  Lieutenant  crept  slowly  back  to  his  own  flank  ami 
ordered  a  disposition  of  his  party  so  as  to  command  the 
space  in  front  of  the  line  of  tents.  In  another  instant 
the  flames  were  ascending  two  tree  trunks,  and  the  rapid 
cracking  of  rifles  broke  the  early  morning  stillness.  With 
the  first  scream  of  a  bullet  through  their  flimsy  shelters 
the  Indians  leaped  out  and  dashed  for  the  river.  Few 
fell.  Rapid  zigzags  and  the  swinging  of  blankets  and 
arms  as  they  run  confused  the  aim  of  the  soldiers.  In 
less  than  five  minutes  the  last  Apache  was  out  of  sight, 
and  the  firing  had  ceased. 

Concealment  was  no  longer  a  necessary  precaution,  and 
the  soldiers  thronged  the  space  before  the  tents.  Walk- 
ing to  the  hut  from  which  he  had  seen  the  hand  and 
tresses  thrust  out,  the  Lieutenant  called,  "  Brendu  !" 


APRIL  20,  1805. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


427 


There  was  no  response  or  sound.  Looking  into  the  en- 
trance, he  saw  in  the  dim  light  of  the  awakening  day  the 
figure  of  a  girl  lying  on  her  back,  her  feet  extended  tow- 
ards him,  and  her  head  touching  the  rear  wall.  The  right 
arm  lay  along  her  side,  and  the  left  was  thrown  ahove 
her  head,  the  fingers  still  holding  her  hair. 

A  terrible  fear  seized  the  young  officer.  He  again  called 
the  girl  by  name,  and  receiving  no  answer  went  in,  and, 
with  nervous  fingers,  lighted  a  match  and  stooped  beside 
her.  He  saw  a  rill  of  blood  threading  its  way  across  the 
earthen  floor  from  her  left  side.  He  shouted  for  Doctor 
Oolton,  and  the  surgeon  hurried  in.  From  bis  instru- 
ment-case he  took  a  small  lantern,  and,  lighting  it,  fell 
upon  his  knees  beside  the  prostrate  girl. 

During  the  following  few  moments,  while  the  skilled 
fingers  of  the  firm -nerved  surgeon  were  cutting  away 
clothing  to  expose  the  nature  of  the  wound,  the  Lieuten- 
ant's thoughts  found  time  to  wander  away  to  the  girl's 
brother  Willie,  who  had  been  left  at  the  fort  in  spite  of 
repeated  requests  to  be  allowed  to  accompany  the  detach- 
ment. He  thought  what  a  sad  message  it  would  be  his 
province  to  bear  to  the  lad  if  this  dear  sister  should  die 
by  savage  hands. 

The  Lieutenant  entertained  little  hope  that  the  pretty 
girl  could  live.  He  looked  upon  her  as  already  claimed 
by  death.  She  who  had  made  a  long  and  weary  march 
pleasant  by  her  vivacity  and  intelligence  was  to  die  in 
this  wretched  hole. 

But  the  tactus  eruditus  of  the  young  surgeon  was  con- 


tinuing the  search  for  some  evidence  that  the  savage  >l;ib 
was  not  fatal,  and  his  mind  was  busy  with  means  for 
preserving  life  should  there  be  a  chance.  The  officer 
watched,  and  assisted  now  and  then  when  asked;  waited 
with  strained  patience  for  a  word  upon  which  to  base  a 
hope. 

At  last  the  doctor  dropped  the  hand  whose  pulse  he  had 
been  long  searching,  and  said:  "She  is  alive,  and  that  is 
about  all.  You  see  her  hands,  arms,  and  neck  are  badly 
scorched  by  the  dash  she  made  through  the  fire  at  the 
ranch.  Then  this  wicked  stab  has  paralyzed  her.  She 
has  bled  considerably  too.  But  she  lives.  Press  your  fin- 
gers on  this  artery." 

"Can  she  be  made  to  live,  doctor?" 

"The  knife  did  not  touch  a  vital  part;  but  it  may  have 
done  irreparable  injury.  I  can  tell  more  presently." 

Nothing  more  was  said,  except  in  the  way  of  direction, 
for  a  long  time,  the  surgeon  working  slowly  and  skil- 
fully at  the  wound.  At  last,  rearranging  the  clothing 
and  replacing  his  instruments  in  their  case,  lie  said,  "If  I 
had  the  girl  in.  the  post  hospital,  or  in  a  civilized  dwelling 
with  a  good  nurse,  I  think  she  might  recover." 

"Can't  we  give  her  the  proper  attendance  here,  doctor?" 
asked  Randolph. 

"  I  fear  not.  She  ought  to  have  a  woman's  gentle  care-, 
for  one  tiling,  and  some  remedies  and  appliances  I  haven't 
here  for  such  a  delicate  case.  It  is  the  long  distance  be- 
tween here  and  the  fort  that  makes  the  outlook  hopeless^ 
She  cannot  survive  the  journey." 


WATCHING    FOR    THE    INDIANS    TO    MAKE    A    SORTIE. 


428 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVL 


"Then  we  will  remain  here," said  the  Lieutenant,  with 
decision.  "Write  out  a  list  of  what  you  want,  and  I 
will  send  Cooler  to  the  fort  for  tents  and  supplies,  a  camp 
woman,  Willie,  and  the  elder  Arnold  girl." 

"Randolph,  you  are  inspired!"  exclaimed  the  doctor. 
"We  will  save  this  girl.  I'll  have  my  order  ready  in  a 
few  moments,  and  then  we  will  make  Brenda  comfort- 
able. You  and  I  can  manage  until  a  better  nurse  ar- 
rives." 

A  letter  was  written  to  Captain  Bayard,  the  surgeon's 
memoranda  enclosed,  and  a  quarter  of  an  hour  afterward 
Cooler  was  flying  over  the  sixty  miles  to  Fort  Whipple. 
Three  davs  later  a  pack-train  arrived  with  the  laundress, 
Willie  and  Mary  Arnold,  and  with  the  stores  and  supplies 
necessary  for  setting-  up  a  sick  camp.  The  wounded  girl 
mended  rapidly  from  the  start. 

On  the  fourth  day  succeeding  the  rescue  Randolph  re- 
turned to  the  fort  with  all  but  Sergeant  Ratferty  and  ten 
privates  of  the  detachment,  who  were  left  as  a  guard  to 
the  surgeon,  his  patient,  and  her  attendants.  The  recap- 
tured stock  and  captured  Indian  ponies  were  brought  in, 
and  Mr.  Arnold  was  made  even  so  far  as  oxen  and  horses 
went.  He  made  no  attempt,  however,  to  return  to  Cholla 
Valley,  but  took  an  early  opportunity  to  sell  out  his 
claim  and  all  belonging  to  it. 

At  the  end  of  a  fortnight  Brenda  had  so  far  recovered 
as  to  warrant  Doctor  Colton  in  permitting  her  removal 
to  Whipple.  An  ambulance  was  driven  to  the  bowlder- 
covered  ridge  mentioned  in  a  previous  chapter,  and  she 
was  borne  upon  a  stretcher  by  the  soldiers  to  where  it 
stood  in  waiting.  All  went  well,  and  on  the  second  day 
after  leaving  the  Santa  Maria  the  invalid  was  comfortably 
settled  at  the  fort. 

In  time  Brenda  fully  recovered,  and  Gypsy  and  the 
handsomest  pony  captured  from  the  Apaches  were  in  al- 
most daily  requisition  to  take  the  young  people  on  long 
rides  about  the  fort  and  town.  Letters  were  sent  by  Cap- 
tain Bayard  to  their  maternal  relatives,  and  just  before 
Christmas  an  uncle  arrived  at  the  fort  and  took  charge 
of  his  nephew  and  niece,  taking  them  and  their  ponies  to 
his  home  in  the  East. 


JACK'S  FOX-HUNT. 

BY   ROBERT  HOWARD  RUSSELL. 

JACK  DALE  was  a  city  boy,  and  the  greater  part  of 
his  years,  which  numbered  fifteen,  had  been  spent  be- 
tween walls  of  brick  and  mortar;  consequently,  when 
one  day  a  letter  arrived  from  Jack's  uncle,  Colonel  Phil- 
lips, inviting  him  to  come  down  to  his  plantation  in  Vir- 
ginia and  make  him  a  visit,  you  can  be  sure  that  Jack 
did  not  rest  until  he  had  obtained  permission  to  go. 

So  one  bright  morning  found  our  young  friend  Jack 
snugly  ensconced  in  the  cushioned  chair  of  a  Pullman 
car,  watching  the  panorama  of  woods,  rivers,  and  fields, 
as  the  train  sped  along  toward  Baltimore,  where  bis  un- 
cle was  to  meet  him. 

Colonel  Phillips  was  waiting  at  the  station  as  the  train 
came  in,  and  Jack  was  whisked  into  a  cab  and  was  011  his 
way  to  the  boat  before  he  fairly  knew  what  he  was  about, 
his  uncle  explaining  as  they  drove  on  that  the  train  was 
late,  and  that  it  was  past  the  time  for  the  boat  to  sail. 
However,  he  had  telephoned  to  his  friend,  the  Captain, 
asking  him  to  wait  until  he  arrived,  before  sailing.  As 
the  cab  drove  to  the  end  of  a  long  covered  dock  stored 
with  cotton,  Jack  saw  that  his  uncle  had  not  relied  on 
the  good  nature  of  the  Captain  for  nothing,  for  there  the 
big  boat  lay  all  cleared  away  and  ready  to  start,  but  with  a 
plank  out  for  Jack  and  his  uncle.  As  soon  as  they  were 
on  board,  the  plank  was  hauled  in,  and  with  a  hoarse 
screech  the  steamer  backed  out  into  the  Patapsco  and 


pointed  her  prow  for  the  Old  Dominion.  After  supper  Jack 
turned  in,  to  dream  of  the  rides  and  the  shooting  which  his 
uncle  had  promised  him.  Soon  after  daybreak  the  next 
morning  the  whistle  announced  that  the  boat  was  nearing 
some  landing,  and  peering  out  of  the  state-room  window 
Jack  saw  in  the  red  glow  of  the  morning  sun  the  little 
round  stone  fort  known  as  the  Ripraps,  which  lies  at  the 
entrance  to  Hampton  Roads.  Dressing  quickly,  he  was  on 
deck  before  the  boat  had  reached  the  wharf.  Before  him 
were  two  great  hotels,  and  beyond  lie  could  see  the  para- 
pets and  earthworks  of  Fortress  Monroe,  and  some  sol- 
diers in  bright  uniforms  just  coming  out  of  the  sally-port. 

After  breakfasting  at  the  hotel,  Jack  and  his  uncle 
were  off  again  in  a  smaller  boat.  As  they  steamed  up 
the  bay,  innumerable  ducks,  disturbed  at  their  feeding- 
grounds,  arose  and  flew  to  the  right  and  left,  with  startled 
cries.  Soon  Jack  could  see  long  stretches  of  shining 
sand,  and  points  covered  with  pine  woods,  and  here  and 
there  on  the  bay  the  triangular  sail  of  a  fleet  Virginia 
canoe. 

Presently  the  boat  landed  at  a  long  wooden  wharf, 
where  Jack  and  his  uncle  were  piled  with  bag  and  bag- 
gage into  a  large  canoe  manned  by  good-natured-looking 
darkies,  which  was  waiting  for  them,  and  a  sail  of  a  mile 
or  two  brought  them  to  the  point  where  the  Colonel's 
carriage  was  waiting  to  take  them  to  the  house. 

After  driving  through  long  lanes,  which  skirted  the 
wooded  swamps  where  the  air  was  fragrant  with  the 
odor  of  pine-trees,  they  came  to  an  avenue  of  magnolias, 
at  the  end  of  which  Jack  could  see  the  great  house,  with 
a  group  of  colored  servants  about  the  door,  waiting  to 
welcome  the  Colonel  and  his  nephew. 

Colonel  Phillips  had  not  forgotten  them,  and  soon  the 
whole  retinue,  from  Esther  the  cook,  and  Victoria  the 
housemaid,  down  to  the  smallest  pickaninny,  were  smil- 
ing over  some  trifle  that  he  had  brought  forth  from  his 
capacious  carpet-bag. 

While  they  were  at  breakfast  the  faint  sound  of  a  horn 
was  heard.  Colonel  Phillips's  superintendent  was  on  his 
feet  at  once.  "I  declare,"  said  he.  "if  I  hadn't  clean 
forgot  that  I  promised  to  meet  Major  Yancy  at  Hickory 
Forks  this  morning,  with  my  dogs,  for  the  fox-hunt. 
Perhaps  Jack  would  like  to  go  along  and  see  how  we 
kill  foxes  in  Virginia." 

"I  am  not  going  to  have  Jack  go  on  a  fox-hunt  the 
very  first  day  he  gets  here,  sir,  and  break  his  neck,"  said 
the  Colonel.  "I  don't  even  know  that  he  knows  how 
to  ride  a  horse.  Do  you,  Jack?" 

Jack's  entire  experience  as  an  equestrian  had  been 
limited  to  rides  in  the  Park,  at  ten  cents  a  ride,  on  the 
backs  of  ponies  led  by  boys,  and  as  he  had  outgrown  the 
ponies,  even  this  experience  was  not  recent;  but  never 
doubting  that  this  was  a  sufficient  training,  Jack  unhesi- 
tatingly answered,  "Oh  yes,  sir!  I  commenced  very 
early." 

"Well,  then,  Mr.  Taylor,"  said  the  Colonel,  "tell 
Caesar  to  pick  him  out  a  quiet  horse,  and  let  him  go 
along  with  you;  but  mind,  lie  is  not  to  leave  the  road 
and  try  any  neck-breaking  performances  at  riding-  cross 
country,  so  if  you  start  a  fox,  send  him  home.  However, 
I  reckon  lie  will  get  enough  riding  by  the  time  you  get 
to  the  meet,  and  be  ready  to  come  home  in  a  wagon. 
So  have  Caesar  hitch  up  the  cart  and  drive  after  you,  so 
that  he  can  ride  Jack's  horse  home." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  horses  were  at  the  door,  and 
Jack,  not  without  some  fear,  was  surveying  the  animal 
which  was  to  carry  him.  He  looked  so  much  bigger 
than  he  had  expected,  somehow,  and  Jack  even  thought 
he  could  detect  a  wicked  look  in  his  eye,  and  commenced 
to  wish  that  he  had  not  professed  to  be  a  good  horseman. 
However,  there  was  no  time  to  think  it  over,  and  Jack 
hail  to  decide  at  once,  and  being  a  plucky  little  chap  at 
heart,  he  had  the  horse  brought  beside  the  block  and  be- 


M'l.-IL  ai,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


429 


strode  the  saddle,  while  Cassar  adjusted  the  stirrups  for 
him. 

It  was  pretty  hard  work  for  Jack  at  first,  as  they  went 
along  at  a  sharp  trot,  and  many  times  he  had  narrow 
escapes  from  falling  oft',  and  when  the  road  was  hard  the 
jolting  would  bring  teal's  to  his  eyes,  but  nevertheless  he 
managed  to  stick  on,  and  to  give  Mr.  Taylor,  who  was 
riding  ahead  with  the  dogs,  a  cheery  answer  when  he 
called  back  to  know  how  he  was  getting  along.  . 

Arrived  at  the  cross-roads  they  found  the  hunters 
assembled,  only  waiting  for  Mr.  Taylor's  arrival  to  put 
the  dogs  into  the  woods.  To  Jack's  eye  it  was  a  curious 
sight.  His  conception  of  fox-hunting  had  been  formed 
by  looking  at  the  colored  prints  in  such  books  as  Hand- 
ley  Cross,  Sponge's  Hunting  Tour,  and  Mr.  facey  Horn- 
ford's  Hounds  in  his  father's  library;  but  here  were  110 
red  coats,  varnished  boots,  silk  hats,  and  white  ties,  but 
men  of  widely  varying  ages  dressed  in  their  farming 
clothes,  with  slouch  hats  and  heavy  calf  boots,  and, 
strung  under  their  arms,  old  cows' -horn  trumpets  on 
which  to  sound  the  blast  when  the  fox  was  away. 

The  horses  were  a  motley  collection  of  every  color  and 
in  every  stage  of  apparent  decrepitude,  although  there 
was  not  one  among  them  who  would  not  prick  up  his 
ears  and  set  a  good  pace  across  country  at  the  sound  of 
the  dogs  in  cry.  Several  negro  sportsmen  were  riding 
mules  on  which  they  had  strapped  the  remnants  of  old 
army  saddles,  worn  to  the  tree  and  re-enforced  by  many 
mendings  of  string  and  leather. 

The  dogs  were  also  a  miscellaneous  collection,  as  the 
county  did  not  support  a  pack,  but  every  man  who 
hunted  kept  two  or  three,  and  for  the  meet  every  man 
brought  his  best  dog,  and  each  boasted  that  for  sagacity, 
speed,  and  keen  nose  his  particular  hound  was  unequalled. 

Jack  was  introduced  to  Major  Yancy,  one  of  the  oldest 
fox-hunters  in  the  county,  and  as  they  rode  along  toward 
the  strip  of  pine  woods  where  they  were  to  put  the  dogs 
in,  the  old  fellow  gave  Jack  some  kindly  hints,  which  he 
followed  as  best  he  could,  and  found  that  he  obtained  a 
much  better  seat  in  his  saddle  in  consequence. 

Arrived  at  the  woods  the  Major  addressed  the  dogs. 
"Hie  in  there,  you  Music!  Hush,  you  Blunder! 
Whoo  -  oop,  you  Echo  !  you  come  heah,  you  rascal  ! 
Thunder,  Venus,  you  all  of  you  get  in  there  !  Git 
him  out!  Git  him  out!  Hie  away!  Hie  away!"  And 
the  dogs,  obedient  to  his  call  and  eager  for  the  chase, 
bounded  into  the  woods,  and  with  short  low  yelps  com- 
menced to  quarter  the  ground  for  a  hot  scent. 

The  hunters  took  positions  where  they  could  survey 
the  road  and  the  surrounding  fields,  and  from  time  to 
time  urged  on  the  dogs  with  shouts  and  calls. 

Once  the  hounds  started  in  full  cry,  and  away  went 
the  riders  helter-skelter  over  the  low  Virginia  snake-fences 
and  into  the  woods,  only  to  reappear  in  a  few  minutes, 
and  reply  to  Jack's  excited  questioning  that  it  was 
"nothin'  but  an  ole  liar'."  False  starts  and  long 
searches  in  damp  woods  took  up  the  morning,  and  it 
was  long  past  mid-day  when  the  hunters,  finding  them- 
selves near  the  head  of  one  of  the  many  estuaries  of  the 
Chesapeake  which  divided  the  county  into  a  series  of 
peninsulas,  adjourned  to  a  fine  old  colonial  house  which 
stood  near  the  water,  and  enjoyed  a  lunch  of  crackers, 
and  delicious  raw  oysters  just  out  of  the  river.  Then 
mounting  their  horses  the  party  started  for  home.  Jack, 
although  somewhat  stiff,  was  commencing  to  consider 
himself  quite  a  horseman  by  this  time,  and  cantered  to 
the  side  of  a  charming  young  lady  who  had  joined  them 
for  the  ride  home. 

Miss  Carter  was  twenty-one,  six  years  older  than  Jack, 
but  Jack's  heart  had  gone  over  to  her  in  boyish  admira- 
tion when  Mr.  Taylor  had  told  him,  before  presenting  him 
to  her,  that  she  was  the  best  horsewoman  in  the  county, 
and  that  few  men  could  outride  her  in  a  fox-hunt.  She 


was  mounted  on  a   beautiful   jet-black  mare  which  she 
called  Leuore,  and  as  Jack  rode  up  she  called  to  him  : 

"  I  see  that  you  are  riding  Telegram;  what  a  pity  you 
did  not  have  a  run!  There's  not  a  horse  out  to-day  that 
would  have  headed  him." 

"Oh, "said  Jack,  "I  had  no  intention  of  following  if 
they  had  started  a  fox.  Why,  I  have  never  jumped  a 
fence  in  my  life." 

"  You  will  soon  learn,  down  here.  Why,  it  is  the 
easiest  thing  in  the  world.  All  you  have  to  do  is  to  ride 
straight  at  the  fence,  and  before  you  know  it  you  are 
over.'' 

Just  then  Mr.  Taylor  rode  up  and  called  to  Jack:  "  Say, 
Jack!  you  ride  along  with  Miss  Carter.  I'll  catch  up 
with  you  before  you  get  to  Pointer's  store.  Major  Yancy 
and  I  are  going  to  put  the  dogs  in  this  little  strip  of  woods 
for  a  last  try.  There  used  to  be  a  big  gray  in  there  last 
winter,  and  he  may  be  there  yet." 

The  Major  and  Mr.  Taylor  rode  across  to  the  woods,  fol- 
lowed by  all  of  the  hunt  excepting  Jack  and  Miss  Carter, 
who  kept  on  down  the  sandy  lane.  They  had  not  gone 
far  before  Miss  Carter  reined  Lenore  up  sharply,  and  lis- 
tened. 

"Hark!"  said  she;  "the  dogs  are  running.  They  are 
going  towards  Chappahosic.  You  must  see  some  of  the 
run.  Now  follow  me,  and  we  will  cut  over  to  the  end 
of  the  woods  where  they  must  come  out,  and  we  can  get 
there  before  any  of  them.  There  is  only  this  one  fence 
by  the  road,  and  Telegram  will  take  you  over  that  before 
you  know  it.  Come  on!" 

And  before  Jack  could  remonstrate,  Miss  Carter,  with 
sparkling  eyes  and  the  color  in  her  cheeks,  had  touched 
Lenore  with  her  crop,  and  Jack  was  left  alone  in  the  lane; 
but  only  for  a  moment,  for  if  Jack  was  undecided,  Tele- 
gram was  not.  With  ears  pricked  forward  and  nostrils 
dilated  he  had  waited  a  minute  until  he  saw  Lenore's 
heels  disappear  over  the  fence,  and  then,  with  a  little 
snort,  as  though  a  trifle  vexed  at  being  outdone  at  the 
start  by  a  lady,  he  made  a  dash  at  the  fence. 

Jack  never  remembered  exactly  how  it  was,  but  he 
found  himself  seated  on  Telegram's  neck,  holding  on  to 
his  ears,  and  crying,  "Whoa,  sir!  Whoa,  sir!"  But 
Telegram  did  not  stop.  The  fence  was  behind,  and  Le- 
nore was  half  a  field  ahead,  and  he  must  catch  her. 
With  great  effort  Jack  managed  to  slide  back  into  the 
saddle  and  get  his  feet  in  the  stirrups,  and  by  the  time 
they  reached  Miss  Carter's  side  he  had  the  reins  in  his 
hand  again,  and  showed  no  signs  of  his  discomfiture  ex- 
ceptiirg  that  he  was  slightly  out  of  breath  and  his  heart 
was  beating  very  hard. 

"Well  done,  Mr.  Dale,"  said  Miss  Carter.  "We  will 
make  a  fox-hunter  of  you  yet." 

Fortunately  for  Jack  she  had  not  turned  to  see  him 
take  the  fence,  or  she  might  have  laughed  at  him  in- 
stead of  praising  him,  and  he  never  would  have  won  the 
reputation  he  did  that  day. 

The  hounds  were  now  rapidly  nearing  the  head  of  the 
woods,  and  Miss  Carter,  who  knew  the  voice  of  each, 
listened  with  growing  excitement. 

"  Old  Thunder  is  in  the  lead!  Just  listen  to  his  notes! 
And  Music  is  not  far  behind.  Now  watch,  and  we  shall 
see  them  come  out  near  that  tall  pine." 

The  words  had  hardly  left  her  lips  when  Jack  saw  a 
magnificent  gray  fox  break  from  the  woods,  with  the 
dogs  close  behind.  Telegram  saw  them  too,  and  before 
Jack  could  stop  him  he  was  off  with  a  mad  rush,  and 
was  flying  at  the  fence  ahead.  Jack's  heart  was  in  his 
mouth,  but  he  managed  to  keep  his  seat  this  time,  and 
having  found  that  he  could  not  stop  Telegram,  he  de- 
voted himself  to  doing  his  level  best  towards  keeping  on 
his  back.  On  they  flew,  through  ploughed  fields,  over 
fences,  across  ditches,  with  poor  Jack  bouncing  up  and 
down  in  the  saddle,  with  the  breath  nearly  shaken  out  of 


430 


HAEPEK'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVL 


his  body.  His  feet  had  lost  the  stirrups,  which  were 
dealing  blows  as  they  swung  about,  first  to  Jack's  ankles 
and  then  to  Telegram's  sides,  urging  him  on. 

Jack  shut  his  eyes  as  a  bigger  fence  than  usual  ap- 
peared in  front  of  him,  and  opened  them  again  as  they 
landed,  with  a  jolt,  in  a  big  field  of  corn.  The  high 
stalks  hit  Jack  in  the  face,  and  threatened  to  brush  him 
off  the  saddle,  so  he  bent  low  and  put  his  arms  around 
Telegram's  neck,  and  shut  his  eyes  again,  when  of  a 
sudden  Telegram  stopped  short.  Jack  felt  himself  flying 
through  the  air,  and  before  he  knew  it  he  had  landed  on 
his  back  in  an  open  ploughed  field,  and  the  whole  pack 
of  dogs  were  around  him,  barking  and  jumping  about  as 
though  they  intended  to  eat  him. 

Jack  felt  something  soft  and  warm  under  him,  and 
springing  up  he  discovered  the  gray  fox. 

The  dogs  had  just  killed  him,  and  Telegram,  emerging 
from  the  cornfield,  had  stopped  short,  in  order  not  to 
trample  on  the  hounds,  and  Jack  had  been  thrown  in  the 
midst  of  them  upon  the  fox  himself. 

Jack  had  just  picked  up  the  fox  and  was  beating  back 
the  dogs  when  Miss  Carter  rode  up. 

"Well,  such  a  chase  as  you  have  led  me  !"  she  ex- 
claimed. "And  to  think  of  your  telling  me  that  you 
never  rode  across  country!  Why,  there  is  not  a  man  in 
the  county  who  would  dare  ride  at  that  fence  with  the 
broad  ditch  in  the  last  field,  and  I  had  to  go  around  it 
myself  to  get  here." 

Jack  concluded  that  discretion  was  the  better  part  of 
valor,  and  tried  to  wear  his  newly  won  honors  modestly 
when  the  rest  of  the  hunt  came  up  to  congratulate  him 
upon  his  skill  and  daring  riding;  but  as  he  rode  home  in 
the  dusk  beside  Miss  Carter,  who  wore  the  brush  which 
he  had  gallantly  presented  to  her,  he  was  a  very  proud 
though  very  tired  boy. 

Arrived  at  the  house,  the  news  of  his  achievement  had 
preceded  him,  and  the  Colonel  stood  on  the  porch  to  wel- 
come him  home. 

"Jack,  you  rascal,"  said  he,  "didn't  I  tell  you  not  to 
follow  the  hounds?  What  do  you  mean,  sir,  by  disre- 
garding my  commands  and  trying  to  break  your  worth- 
less neck,  you  scoundrel!  I  shall  send  you  back  North 
to-morrow." 

But  Jack  could  see  a  merry  twinkle  in  the  old  gentle- 
man's eye,  for  in  fact  Jack  himself  was  not  half  so  proud 
of  what  he  had  done  as  was  his  uncle.  Caesar  under- 
stood this  also,  and  when  the  Colonel  called  him  up  and 
threatened  him  with  all  sorts  of  terrible  things  for  having 
given  Jack  Telegram  to  ride  instead  of  some  quiet  old 
horse,  all  he  answered  was, 

"Fo'  de  Lawd,  sir,  I  done  knowed  he  cud  ride  as  soon 
as  I  sot  eyes  on  him." 


COALS   OP  FIRE. 

BY  PAUL  HULL. 

HIS  name  was  Bill  Ruggles.  He  was  lanky  and  red- 
headed and  freckled,  and  his  outfit  in  the  way  of 
•clothes  consisted  of  a  pair  of  trousers  that  had  evidently 
•been  discarded  by  one  of  the  circus  men,  who  were  re- 
sponsible for  first  introducing  him  to  the  little  Connecti- 
•cut  village,  and  which,  of  necessity,  he  wore  triced  up  half- 
way between  his  waist  and  shoulders  by  a  single  sus- 
pender. A  checked  shirt  that  betrayed  little  acquaint- 
ance with  the  wash-tub,  a  pair  of  sorry- looking  shoes 
several  sizes  too  large  for  him,  and  a  black  Derby  hat 
that  had  seen  better  days,  and  whose  torn  brim  dangled 
picturesquely  about  his  ear,  completed  the  inventory  of 
his  wardrobe. 

Several  days  before  he  had  drifted  into  town  as  a  stable- 
boy  with  "  Hawkins's  Million-Dollar  Circus  Creation, "as 
the  show-bills  had  it,  and  when  the  Sheriff  attached  the 
tent  and  animals  on  account  of  a  judgment  of  two  hun- 


dred dollars  against  the  aforesaid  Hawkins,  and  the  saw- 
dust ring  alone  remained  to  tell  the  story  of  the  show  that 
had  made  its  appearance  in  a  blaze  of  glory  so  short  a 
time  previous,  Bill  Ruggles,  like  Othello,  found  his  occu- 
pation gone. 

When  the  village  boys  made  their  way  to  the  field 
from  which  the  last  gayly  decorated  wagon  had  been 
drawn  away  behind  the  curiously  marked  horses,  they 
found  the  late  member  of  the  company  sitting  disconso- 
lately on  an  old  feed-box,  watching  a  cloud  of  dust  hang- 
ing over  the  road  in  the  distance  where  the  cavalcade  had 
disappeared. 

For  a  time  the  merry  lads  pranced  around  the  circle  in 
imitation  of  the  performance  some  of  them  had  witnessed 
in  that  very  ring  a  night  or  two  before,  when  the  flaring 
naphtha  lights  made  the  interior  of  the  tent  as  bright  as 
day,  and  the  trumpets  had  blared  in  salutation  to  the 
"startling  leap  for  life,"  as  the  programme  called  it, 
made  from  the  flying  trapeze  by  the  Signora  Inez  Rivera, 
who  was  known  in  private  life  as  Miss  Annie  Murphy. 

Not  a  smile  crossed  Bill  Ruggles's  pinched  face  as  he 
watched  the  happy  gambols  of  the  boys.  Even  when 
Charlie  Archer  found  an  old  barrel  hoop,  and  in  mock 
gravity  announced  that  the  most  daring  ring  jumping 
act  in  the  history  of  the  world  was  about  to  be  under- 
taken by  the  distinguished  athlete  Mr.  "Fatty"  Hulse, 
the  baker's  son,  and  when  that  individual  had  laboriously 
squeezed  his  round  body  through  the  generous  circle 
amid  the  encouraging  shouts  and  laughter  of  the  playful 
crowd,  Bill  Ruggles  sat  still  and  looked  on  with  the  same 
settled  expression  of  despair. 

"I  say,  fellows,"  said  Harry  Clark,  "  who's  the  scare- 
crow over  on  the  box?" 

"  I  think  he  must  be  one  of  those  circus  people,"  re- 
plied Charlie  Archer.  "I  never  saw  him  around  here 
before." 

"  Hold  on  till  I  ask  him,"  said  the  first  speaker. 

Harry  Clark,  the  Supervisor's  son,  was  the  bully  among 
the  boys  of  the  village.  His  superior  height  and  strength, 
and  his  disposition  to  use  the  latter  upon  the  slightest 
provocation,  made  him  feared  by  his  companions,  and 
obliged  them  for  policy's  sake  to  admit  him  to  their  sports, 
and  to  tolerate  his  coarse  unkindly  ways. 

Stepping  in  front  of  the  solitary  figure,  he  was  about  to 
address  him,  when  he  caught  sight  of  the  tears  glistening 
on  the  lad's  face.  "Oh,  I  say,  fellows!  come  here  and  see 
the  big  cry-baby,"  he  called,  with  a  loud  laugh. 

Bill  Ruggles  raised  his  head  and  looked  at  the  curious 
group  before  him.  "What  yer  want?  Why  can't  yer 
mind  yer  own  business?"  he  asked. 

Harry  Clark  made  a  step  in  his  direction.  "Don't 
get  sassy,  Scarecrow,  "he  said,  "or  I  may  teach  you  man- 
ners. Now,  who  are  you,  and  where  do  you  come  from?" 
As  the  one  addressed  made  no  reply,  the  speaker  con- 
tinued: "You're  such  a  distinguished-looking  gentleman 
that  we're  all  anxious  to  become  acquainted  with  you; 
so  speak  up,  and  let's  hear  from  you,  Mr.  Vanderbilt." 

Bill  Ruggles  stood  up.  There  was  no  sign  of  tears 
now,  and  the  melancholy  look  was  gone,  but  in  their 
place  were  seen  a  pair  of  flashing  eyes  and  a  set  face. 

"  Yer  coward,"  he  sneered,  "  ter  make  fun  of  er  feller 
because  he's  poor!"  Then,  as  the  boys  fell  back  a  pace 
confusedly,  he  went  on:  "I  ain't  no  gentleman's  son, 
with  er  good  home  an'  clothes  an'  plenty  ter  eat;  I  'ain't 
got  no  one  but  merself,  with  no  place  ter  go  an'  uothin' 
ter  wear,  an'  hungry,  but  I  wouldn't  be  such  er  coward 
as  you  ef  I  could  ride  in  er  carriage." 

For  a  moment  he  stood  there,  forsaken  and  poor  and 
miserable,  defying  them  all;  then  he  turned,  walking  in 
the  direction  of  the  village. 

Perhaps  it  was  shame  that  kept  Harry  Clark  so  silent 
as  the  uncouth  figure  moved  away.  Charlie  Archer 
started  after  the  wretched  lad. 


APRIL  20,  1895. 


HARPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


431 


"  Where  are  you  going-,  Charlie?''  called  several  of  his 
mates. 

The  boy  faced  about,  and  said,  while  the  flush  deep- 
ened on  his  manly  face,  "I'm  going  after  him  to  say 
that  I'm  sorry  we  hurt  his  feelings,  and  to  ask  him  to 
come  home  with  me  and  get  some  supper." 

He  rapidly  overtook  the  lad  ahead,  who,  hearing  some 
•one  running  after  him,  stopped  and  stood  on  the  defen- 
sive, not  understanding  the  errand. 

Charlie  Archer  put  out  his  hand.  "Say,  I'm  awfully 
sorry  we  did  anything  to  make  you  feel  so  bad,  and  all 
the  fellows  are,  too,  and  I  hope  you'll  come  on  home  with 
me  and  get  something  to  eat;  and  I  think  I've  got  a  suit 
of  clothes  you  can  have,  and  perhaps  my  father  can  give 
you  something  to  do  down  at  the  mill,  and  I  hope  you'll 
shake  hands  and  call  it  square." 

By  this  time  the  rest  of  the  boys  had  come  up.  Bill 
Euggles  looked  doubtingly  at  the  outstretched  hand,  then 
at  the  faces  of  those  who  were  gathered  near. 

"Say,"  he  asked,  "  are  yer  trying  ter  make  er  fool  er 
me  again?" 

A  chorus  of  earnest  voices  in  emphatic  denial  followed 
his  question. 

A  soft  look  came  on  Bill  Ruggles's  face.  He  put  his 
a-ough,  labor-stained  hand  in  that  of  the  boy's  beside  him. 
"Fellers,"  he  said,  with  a  catch  in  his  voice,  "I  think 
as  somehow — er — other  this  'ere  makes  me  feel  worse  than 
I  did  before." 

Silently  and  awkwardly,  but  in  good  faith,  all  the  boys 
but  one  stepped  forward  in  turn  and  shook  hands  with 
him.  Harry  Clark  muttered  something  that  sounded 
like  "  tramp,"  and  walked  off. 

The  summer  passed  away,  and  Bill  Euggles  remained 
in  Riverville.  Mr.  Archer  had  at  first  given  him  a  posi- 
tion at  the  mill  on  probation,  and  had  found  him  so  trust- 
worthy and  diligent  that  he  advanced  him,  and  made  the 
situation  permanent. 

When  fall  came  all  Riverville  was  excited  over  the 
thought  of  the  annual  exhibition  and  games  that  were  to 
be  played  011  the  fair -grounds  just  outside  the  village. 
Among  other  features  of  interest  announced  for  that  oc- 
casion was  a  steeple-chase  for  a  valuable  silver  cup,  to  be 
run  by  Harry  Clark's  horse  and  one  belonging  to  the 
town  of  Oakdale,  across  the  river.  Being  an  excellent 
liorsemau,  the  Supervisor's  son  had  determined  to  be  his 
•own  jockey.  Besides,  his  steed  was  a  fiery,  vicious  ani- 
mal, and  never  having  had  a  rider  on  its  back  other  than 
its  owner,  it  was  extremely  doubtful  if  a  stranger  would 
be  able  to  control  it. 

The  day  before  the  games  Harry  Clark  fell  from  the 
stable  ladder,  and  wrenched  his  ankle  so  badly  that  he  was 
obliged  to  give  up  all  idea  of  riding  the  race. 

That  afternoon  Mr.  Clark  called  at  the  mill  to  talk  the 
matter  over  with  his  friend  Archer,  who  had  been  ap- 
pointed one  of  the  judges.  A  few  minutes  later  Bill 
Euggles  was  sent  for  from  the  private  office. 

"  Euggles,"  said  the  mill-owner,  "Mr.  Clark's  son  has 
met  with  an  accident,  and  will  be  unable  to  ride  to-mor- 
row. His  horse  is  a  flighty  animal,  and  Mr.  Clark  says 
"that  he  must  get  a  professional  mount,  for  no  one  else 
would  be  able  to  handle  him.  As  you  once  belonged  to 
a  circus  company,  I  thought  that  perhaps  you  might 
know  of  some  one  who  would  be  willing  to  ride." 

"If  you  do,  tell  him  I'll  give  him  fifty  dollars  if  he 
-wins  the  race,"  put  in  Mr.  Clark.  "You  see,"  he  ex- 
plained, turning  to  Mr.  Archer,  "Harry  has  so  set  his 
•heart  on  winning  the  cup  that  I  would  give  a  hundred 
•dollars  rather  than  see  that  Oakdale  horse  carry  off  the 
prize." 

"Well,  Ruggles,"  spoke  up  his  employer,  "what  do 
you  think?" 

The  boy's  face  was  a  study.  "I  think  I  know  some 
one,  sir,  as  would  be  willin'  ter  do  the  act." 


"All  right  then,  Archer,  I'll  leave  the  matter  in  your 
hands,  and  will  go  home  and  tell  Harry  about  it." 

After  the  door  had  closed  on  the  portly  figure  of  the 
village  official,  Ruggles  spoke: 

"  Mr.  Archer,  please  listen.  There  ain't  nobody  as  ken 
be  got  ter  ride  that  horse  ter-morrer  but  er  boy  I  knows 
of,  an'  he  has  jes'  growed  up  'mong  horses  ever  sence  he 
was  born,  an'  understands  'em  better  'n  he  does  people, 
an'  though  nobody  don't  know  it,  he  lives  in  this  village, 
an'  his  name  is  Bill  Euggles."  Before  the  surprised 
man  could  speak,  the  lad  went  on:  "  Yer  see,  sir,  as  how 
Harry  Clark  don't  like  me  fer  a-callhr  of  him  a  coward 
oncet  when  he  riled  me,  an'  ef  as  so  be  it  I  ken  do  er  good 
turn  fer  him  now,  it  '11  show  him  as  how  I  don't  bear  no 
ill-feelin'  again'  him." 

That  afternoon  Mr.  Archer  sent  the  following  note  to 
the  Clark  home: 

"  Have  secured  the  services  of  a  good  rider,  who  under- 
stands steeple-chasing  and  will  be  on  hand  at  the  fair- 
grounds to-morrow  in  time  for  the  race.  Send  Harry's 
riding-costume  back  by  bearer,  as  the  jockey  will  dress 
at  my  house." 

A  buzz  of  anticipation  went  up  from  the  dense  throng 
of  spectators  as  the  number  reached  on  the  programme 
called  for  the  contest  between  the  Oakdale  horse  Firefly 
and  the  Eiverville  horse  Saladin. 

Harry  Clark  sat  in  a  box  on  the  grand  stand,  nervous- 
ly fingering  the  crutch  beside  him,  and  pale  with  anxiety 
and  excitement. 

A  moment  later  a  beautiful  white  animal  carrying 
crimson  colors  pranced  out  on  the  track,  followed  by  a 
coal-black  horse,  on  which,  seated  like  a  Centaur,  and 
keeping  the  blooded  brute  well  in  hand,  was  a  youth 
wearing  the  Riverville  blue,  his  face  almost  obscured  by 
the  large  peak  of  his  riding-cap. 

After  one  look  Harry  Clark  gave  expression  to  a  great 
sigh  of  relief,  for  Saladin  had  a  master  on  his  back,  and 
horse  and  owner  knew  it.  At  a  signal  the  two  animals 
were  brought  behind  the  line.  Half-way  around  the 
track,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  ahead,  a  hurdle  of  three  bars 
uprose  before  a  narrow  ditch,  while  behind  the  starting- 
post  a  rack  of  five  bars  marked  the  second  and  firial  jump 
that  the  horses  were  to  take  within  a  few  yards  of  the 
finish. 

The  starter's  flag  falls,  and  as  though  propelled  from 
a  cannon  the  two  mettled  steeds  shoot  over  the  line. 
Side  by  side  they  gracefully  clear  the  first  obstruction, 
and  now  they  are  tearing  for  the  second  hurdle  and 
home.  The  jockey  on  the  white  horse  is  troubled.  He 
is  urging  his  animal  on  with  cruel  spur  to  the  top  of  his 
speed,  yet,  without  an  apparent  effort,  the  blue  colors  ex- 
asperatingly  keep  abreast  of  him.  They  are  within  fiftv 
yards  of  the  hurdle  when  the  multitude  see  the  crimson 
bring  his  whip  down  on  the  flanks  of  his  horse,  making 
a  desperate  effort  for  the  lead.  At  the  same  instant  the 
blue  bends  lower  on  his  horse's  neck,  and  drives  his  heels 
into  the  black  sides.  A  roar  goes  up  from  the  excited 
crowd,  for,  like  a  flash,  the  crimson  is  seen  on  the  other's 
quarter.  Then  they  see  the  blue  jockey  shoot  upright  in 
his  saddle  and  lift  the  black  horse  beautifully  clean  over 
the  hurdle,  two  lengths  ahead  of  the  white.  As  Saladin 
rushes  by  the  winning-post  the  air  is  rent  with  cheers  for 
the  gallant  steed  and  its  rider.  Turning  back  to  the 
stand,  the  successful  jockey  salutes  the  judges,  and  is 
handed  the  beautiful  silver  prize  to  present  to  the  gentle- 
man whose  colors  he  wears. 

When  Saladin,  proudly  dancing  and  chafing  his  bit  as 
though  conscious  of  his  victory,  is  reined  up  alongside 
the  Supervisor's  box,  his  rider  looks  up  and  hands  the 
cherished  trophy  to  Harry  Clark.  With  a  startled  cry 
Saladin's  owner  pulls  off  the  blue  cap,  and  then,  in  the 
presence  of  every  one,  he  throws  his  arms  around  Bill 
Ruggles's  neck. 


432 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME    XVI. 


•H'lien  tliefrr  if/iit  o»f,  and  so  he  angrily  threw 
the balf-cooked  lish  into  the  sea.  Although 
half  broiled,  it  came  to  life  again,  and  its  de- 
scendants— all  Hit'  flatfish — have  preserved 
to-day  the  peculiar  appearance  of  their  half- 
cooked  ancestor,  being  white  on  one  side 
and  brown  on  the  other. 

Why  do  haddocks  carry  those  peculiar 
"finger-marks"  near  the  head?  Some  tell 
ns  that  they  are  a  memento  of  the  pressure 
cil'  M.Peter's  lingers  when  he  went  fishing 
for  the  tribute-money.  On  the  Yorkshire 
coast,  they  say  the  Devil  once  determined  to 
build  a  bridge  at  Filey.  His  Satanic  Majes- 
ty did  not  start  the  bridge  for  the  conven- 
ience of  the  people,  but  for  the  destruction 
of  ships  and  sailors,  and  the  annoyance  of 
fishermen  in  general.  In  the  progress  of  his 
work  Old  Nick  dropped  his  hammer  into 
the  sea.  Snatching  at  it  hastily,  he  caught 
a  haddock,  and  all  haddocks  carry  the  im- 
print of  his  black  ringers  to  this  day. 


THE   LION,  THE   PITFALL,  AND   THE    BELATED    TRAVELLER-A    TROPICAL   TALE. 


QUEER   FISH   STORIES. 

EVERY  boy  has  told,  or  will  at  some  time  or  other  tell,  a  fish 
story.  One  can  readily  understand  the  reason  for  the  wealth  of 
fish  stories  when  he  remembers  that  legends  and  superstitions 
connected  with  fish  have  descended  for  hundreds  of  years,  mul- 
tiplying with  each  generation.  The  following,  taken  from  the 
Fixliinii  (!ii:i'tlc,  are  probably  more  curious  than  most  others: 

Ask  a  Scandinavian  why  salmon  are  red  and  have  such  fine 
tails,  you  will  be  told  that  the  ruddy  color  of  the  flesh  is  due 
to  the  fact  that  when  heaven  was  on  tire  the  gods  threw  the 
llames  into  the  water,  and  the  salmon  swallowed  them.  The 
delicacy  of  the  salmon's  tail  is  explained  by  the  story  that  Loki, 
when  the  angry  gods  pursued  him.  turned  himself  into  a  salmon. 
He  would  have  escaped  if  Thor  had  not  caught  him  by  the.  tail. 
.Salmon  have  had  their  tails  tine  and  thin  ever  since. 

Why  are  soles,  plaice,  and  other  flatfish  brown  on  one  side 
and  white  on  the  other?  The  Arabs  of  Upper  Egypt  give  an 
explanation  which  no  one  can  hesitate  to  accept.  One  day, they 
tell  yon,  Moses,  the  Israelitish  law-giver,  was  frying  a  fish — we 
all  know  the  Jews  are  fond  of  fried  fish,  and  they  cook  it  splen- 
didly. Moses,  however,  had  only  cooked  his  fish  oil  one  siilr. 


A  DOG'S  PASSION  FOR  DOLLS. 
HERE  is  a  curious  dog  story  that  we  quote 
from  the  Birmingham  Mail,  of  England: 
The  animal  is  the  property  of  a  lady  who 
resides  at  Small  Heath,  and  some  time  ago- 
one  of  her  little  girls  was  very  fond  of  in- 
ducing the  dog  to  carry  her  doll,  and  the 
animal  acquired  quite  a  passion  for  reliev- 
ing the  child  of  her  precious  charge.  The 
dog  would  carry  the  doll  about  for  hours, 
and  oftentimes  take  it  to  his  kennel  and  lie 
down  beside  it  for  the  greater  part  of  the 
day.  He  never  harmed  the  doll,  always- 
gripping  its  clothes,  and  not  defacing  it  in 
the  slightest.  Up  to  a  certain  point  its  ten- 
dencies were  productive  of  unadulterated 
fun,  and  so  popular  did  the  dog  become  that 
the  children  of  the  neighborhood  frequently 
came  to  its  owner's  house  with  the  query, 

"Please,  Mrs. ,  can    your  dog  come  and 

take  my  doll  a  walk?"  But  by  degrees  the 
animal's  healthy  affection  tor  dolls  developed 
into  an  absolute  passion,  and  now  a  more 
unpopular  quadruped  does  not  exist  in  the 
whole  suburb.  Not  content  with  carrying 
a  doll  when  requested  to  do  so,  the  animal 
commenced  to  prowl  about  the  neighbor- 
hood and  forcibly  deprive  stray  children  of 
their  treasured  pets.  Whenever  and  wher- 
ever he  saw  a  doll  in  a  child's  arms  he 
would  stealthily  walk  up  to  her,  seize  the 
prize,  and  run  off  with  it  to  his  kennel.  On 
a  single  day  he  has  been  known  to  bring  four 
captures  home,  and  the  maternal  indig- 
nation of  the  neighborhood  is  something 

terrible  to  contemplate.  If  that  dog  does  not  mend  his  ways 
shortly,  his  career  will  be  prematurely  closed.  The  animal 
should  be  engaged  at  Christmas-time  in  the  interests  of  a  chil- 
dren's hospital — he  would  soon  provide  dolls  for  all  the  inmates. 


QUARRELLED   EVliN   WITH   HIMSELF. 

"I  THINK  my  new-  baby  brother  is  a  quarrelsome  little  chap,'' 
said  Mabel.  "When  he  can't  get  a  chance  to  pull  my  hair  he 
pulls  his  own,  and  last  night  while  I  was  watching  him  he  was 
punching  his  own  head  as  hard  as  he  could." 

• 

A  LITTLE  GARDENER. 

"MAMMA, "said  little  Willmr,  coming  up  from  the  kitehen, 
"can't  I  have  some  o' the  baked  beans  left  over  from  breakfast 
for  my  garden  ?  I  think  it  would  be  nice  to  grow  'em  so  's  cook 
wouldn't  have  to  cook  'em." 


A   PREFERENCE. 

"  I'M  going  to  have  a  library,"  said  Jirnmieboy  after  his  father 
had  given  him  a  half-dozen  books. 

"I 'ain't  ever  et  any  liberrys,"  said  Fraukie.  "  Me'd  rather 
have  a  strawberrv." 


HARPERS 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


Copyright,  1895,  by  HARPKE  A  BROTHERS.     All  Rights  Reserved. 


PUBLISHED     WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI. — NO.  808. 


NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY.  APRIL  23,  1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO    DOLLARS    A    TKAR. 


THE     LONGMEADOW    TOLL=GATE. 


BY    W.  G.  VAN    TASSEL    SUTPHEN. 


part  £•*. 

/CONTROLLED  by  her  powerful  brakes,  the  Happy 
\_J  Thought  slid  swiftly  and  safely  down  into  the  val- 
ley, and  ran  out  upon  the  Longmeadow  pike,  hard  and 
smooth  as  a  billiard  table,  and  stretching1  away,  a  long 
white  ribbon  in  the  moonlight  against  the  dark  green- 
ery of  the  spruce-trees.  The  Happy  Thought  bounded 
smoothly  along  on  her  great  rubber  tires,  with  only  the 
sharp  staccato  puffs  from  the  exhaust-pipe  to  break  the 
evening  stillness. 

Half  a  dozen  miles  down  the  pike  the  driver  of  the 
buckboard  pulled  up  and  listened  attentively.  What  pos- 
sible danger  could  there  be  of  successful  pursuit  ?  They 
had  taken  care  to  cut  the  telephone  wire  every  mile  or 
two,  and  with  a  good  half-hour's  start  nothing  short  of  a 


locomotive  could  have  kept  pace  with  Bill  Garvey's  Mor- 
gans. And  yet  there  was  something  after  them.  There 
was  a  sinister  meaning  in  those  faint  mysterious  sounds 
that  the  wind  carried  past  them,  the  steady  implacable 
breathin gs  of  some Frankenstein-1  ike  monster  already  hard 
upon  their  track.  The  two  men  looked  at  each  other  with 
startled  eyes.  And  then  "  Smooth  Jim  "  gathered  up  the 
reins,  and  the  horses,  stung  by  the  lash  laid  sharply 
along  their  flanks,  dashed  madly  forward. 

The  Happy  Thought  stood  against  the  parapet  of  Ten 
Mile  Bridge,  and  Jack  was  busy  oiling  up  the  bearings. 
Fred  stood  looking  thoughtfully  at  the  frozen  surface  of 
the  canal  that  ran  below.  It  was  just  six  o'clock,  and  they 
were  ten  miles  on  their  way,  an  average  speed  of  twenty 
miles  an  hour.  Mr.  Jones  was  in  high  spirits.  He  was 


•134 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME    XVI. 


beginning  to  enjoy  his  novel  ride,  and  expressed  himself 
as  sanguine  of  success  in  the  chase. 

"I  allow, "he  said,  "  thet  they  ain't  more'n  two  mile 
ahead  of  us.  Fifteen  minutes,  and  we'll  be  shakiii' 
hands." 

"I've  just  been  thinking,"  returned  Fred.  ''  that  we  are 
getting  a  trifle  too  near." 

"How?" 

"  Why,  you  see,  what  air  there  is  is  blowing  towards 
them,  and  carrying  the  sound  of  our  exhaust.  They're 
sure  to  hear  it,  and  though  they  won't  know  what  it  is, 
they'll  guess  that  it  means  them.  Now  what's  to  hinder 
them  from  dividing  the  money,  leaving  the  wagon,  and 
making  off  into  the  woods?  Or  else  they  might  drive 
a  little  ways  off  the  road  and  wait  until  we  go  by.  Re- 
member that  they  can  hear  us  long  before  we  can  get  any 
idea  of  where  they  are." 

Mr.  Jones  looked  confounded. 

"  The  only  thing  for  us  to  do  is  to  get  ahead  of  them, 
and  then  wait  until  they  come  up.  In  other  words,  we 
must  take  another  road,  and  the  only  possible  chance  lies 
there,"  and  Fred  pointed  to  the  canal.  "It's  frozen 
solid,"  he  went  on,  "  for  we  were  skating  on  it  yesterday, 
and  there's  just  enough  snow  to  give  the  driving-wheel  a 
fair  grip.  You  remember  that  the  pike  crosses  the  canal 
again  at  the  old  stone  bridge,  which  is  just  a  mile  above 
the  toll-gate.  If  we  can  get  there  first,  we  have  'em 
sure." 

"It's  further  by  the  canal  than  by  the  road,"  put  in 
Jack. 

"I  know  it,  but  the  difference  isn't  more  than  a  mile 
and  a  half.  We  can  make  that  up  easily  enough  from 
having  a  perfectly  smooth  and  level  road-bed.  Of  course 
we'll  have  to  make  a  carry  around  Lathi-op's  Lock,  but 
we  should  have  to  stop  anyway  to  oil  up.  It  will  be  a 
clear  reach  of  ten  miles  to  the  lock,  and  about  ten  miles 
further  to  the  bridge.  We  can  make  it  easily  by  lifteen 
minutes  after  seven,  and  the  buckboard  isn't  due  until  ten 
minutes  later." 

The  plan  seemed  too  plain  for  any  lengthy  argument, 
and  a  few  moments  later  the  Happy  TliQiight  was  stand- 
ing on  the  ice  ready  for  the  start.  But  Fred  had  slill  an- 
other idea.  He  had  been  experimenting  a  day  or  two 
before  with  skis,  or  runners,  for  the  front  wheel,  and  had 
found  that  they  worked  very  well  on  ice  and  snow.  The 
appliance  was  a  simple  one,  consisting  merely  of  two 
highly  polished  hard- wood  runners  parallel  with  each 
other,  set  about  eighteen  inches  apart,  and  with  the  front 
wheel  firmly  stayed  between  them.  The  apparatus  was 
still  on  the  machine,  having  been  slung  up  out  of  the 
way,  and  it  was  but  a  moment's  work  to  put  it  in  posi- 
tion. 

The  crew  and  passengers  took  their  seats,  and  the  Hap- 
py Thought  started  up  again,  slowly  at  first,  but  gradu- 
ally gaining  speed  as  the  initial  inertia  was  overcome. 
The  frozen  surface  of  the  light  snow  prevented  any  ap- 
preciable slip  of  the  driver,  and  there  was  just  enough 
friction  of  the  forward  runners  to  give  steering  power. 
Faster  and  faster  the  banks  of  their  frozen  highway  flew 
past;  mile  after  mile  glided  smoothly  away  behind.  Jack 
and  the  Sheriff  were  comparatively  comfortable,  but  the 
wind  created  by  the  rapid  motion  brought  the  tears  to 
Fred's  eyes.  A  firm  hand  was  necessary  on  the  steering- 
handles  to  keep  the  Happy  Thought  on  her  course,  and 
it  was  only  now  and  then  that  he  could  venture  to  clear 
his  dead-lights  with  a  hasty  brush  from  his  mitten.  Fortu- 
nately the  moon  was  at  the  full,  and  there  were  no  trees 
to  cast  their  shadows  across  the  way.  Ten,  twenty, 
thirty  minutes,  and  Lathrop's  Lock  was  in  sight.  Twenty 
miles  to  the  good,  and  the  hands  of  Fred's  watch  pointed 
to  twenty-five  minutes  to  seven.  It  looked  like  a  sure 
thing  for  the  old  stone  bridge  and  the  carefully  worked 
out  schedule. 


"That  cooks  our  goose,"  remarked  Jack,  as  they  stood 
on  the  tow-path  looking  down  on  the  lower  reach  of  the- 
canal. 

Instead  of  the  smooth  surface  that  they  had  been  trav- 
elling over,  the  ice  below  was  a  confused  mass  of  broken 
and  jagged  pieces.  It  was  evident  that  the  water  in  the 
lower  reach  had  been  drawn  off  after  its  surface  had 
frozen.  Deprived  of  its  support  the  ice  had  cracked  and 
broken  by  its  own  weight,  and  fallen  to  the  bottom  of  the 
canal-bed.  It  was  as  clearly  impassable  for  the  Happy 
Thought  as  a  roadway  paved  with  broken  bottles. 

"  The  tow-path,"  said  Fred,  briefly. 

The  skis  were  taken  off,  and  the  Happy  Thought  run 
out  on  the  frozen  ground  of  the  path.  Unfortunately  it 
had  been  badly  guttered  by  rain  since  the  close  of  the 
towing  season,  and  the  high  speed  of  the  last  half-hour 
was  out  of  the  question.  The  Happy  Thought  bumped 
and  jolted  along  in  a  very  uncomfortable  fashion,  but 
Fred  managed  to  keep  her  out  of  the  worst  of  the  ruts, 
and  every  now  and  then  there  would  be  a  hundred  yards 
or  so  of  smooth  travelling. 

As  they  ran  past  the  slate-quarry,  seven  miles  below 
the  lock,  Fred  managed  to  glance  at  his  watch.  Three 
miles  to  the  stone  bridge,  and  it  was  now  just  seven  o'clock. 
"Fifteen  minutes  more,"  thought  Fred.  The  noise  from 
the  exhaust  had  suddenly  stopped,  and  in  another  half- 
minute  the  Happy  Thought  had  come  to  a  dead  stop. 
Fred  looked  back  anxiously. 

"Well?" 

"Hot  box,"  returned  Jack,  oil-can  in  hand.  "  It's  the 
crank  bearing  of  the  right-hand  connecting  rod.  Another 
five  minutes  and  it  would  have  'set'  for  keeps." 

"  Can't  you  disconnect  that  cylinder,  and  run  with  one 
engine?" 

"  Take  a  quarter  of  an  hour  to  do  that,"  said  Jack,  de- 
cidedly. "  But  I  can  loosen  up  the  bearing  so  that  it  will 
run  free— 

"  And  we  can  pedal  her  while  the  crank  is  cooling  off," 
finished  Fred.  "Hurry  up." 

Once  more  the  Happy  Thought  was  under  way,  but  it 
was  hard  work  now.  The  crew  "pumped"  away  stead- 
ily, but  there  were  three  long  miles  ahead  of  them,  and 
the  two  boy-power  was  by  no  means  equal  to  the  two 
horse-power  of  the  idle  engines. 

"The  bridge — just  around  that  curve,"  gasped  Fred. 
"Give  it  to  her." 

They  could  hear  the  sound  of  wagon-wheels  coming 
down  the  pike;  the  buckboard  was  on  time,  and  it  was 
only  the  question  of  who  should  reach  the  bridge  first. 

The  Happy  Thought  swung  round  the  curve — it  was  a 
matter  of  seconds  now.  The  brakes  went  down  hard, 
and  the  Sheriff  and  Fred  jumped  from  their  saddles  and 
scrambled  up  the  bank.  The  hoofs  of  the  horses  were 
clattering  above  their  heads  as  they  climbed — it  was  a 
iirst  heat  for  "Smooth  Jim." 

Fred  put  his  hand  on  Mr.  Jones's  arm.  "  Save  your 
powder,  Sheriff,  and  help  Jack  get  the  Happy  Thought 
up  the  bank.  There's  one  chance  yet." 

It  was  a  race  to  a  finish  now,  for  of  course  the  robbers 
had  seen  and  recognized  their  pursuers.  Two  miles  away 
ran  the  river,  plainly  visible  in  the  brilliant  moonlight. 
Even  as  Fred  looked  a  rocket  shot  up  from  the  direction 
of  the  boat  landing.  Evidently  "  Smooth  Jim's  "  con- 
federates were  in  readiness  with  a  steam-launch.  But 
half  a  mile  this  side  was  the  Longmeadow  toll-gate,  and 
the  possible  delay  there  was  Fred's  last  chance.  Once 
past  that  barrier,  and  "Smooth  Jim  "  and  his  companion 
had  only  to  maintain  a  running  fight  of  a  short  half- 
mile,  and  the  stake  was  big  enough  to  risk  it.  But  could 
the  Happy  Thought  run  them  down  in  the  mile  and  a 
half  to  the  gate? 

In  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it  the  Happy  Thought 
was  ready.  The  hot  crank  had  cooled  off,  the  bearing 


APRIL  23,  1895 


HARPEB'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


had  been  readjusted,  and   the   Sheriff  and  Jack  were  in 
their  places. 

"Throw  her  wide  open,  and  let  her  mizzle,"  shouted 
Fred,  his  voice  shrill  and  tense  with  excitement.  Jack 
switched  on  the  current,  gave  a  pull  at  the  lever,  and  the 
Happy  Thought  leaped  forward  like  some  gigantic  jack- 
rabbit.  Faster  and  faster,  until  the  flying  spokes  had 
vanished  into  disks  of  steely  brightness,  and  the  sharp 
staccato  puffs  from  the  exhaust  were  merged  into  one 
long  continuous  roar. 

Fred  gripped  the  steering-handles,  set  his  teeth  hard 
on  the  leaden  whistle  between  his  lips,  and  looked  ahead. 
The  buckboard,  .with  its  long  start,  was  perhaps  five  hun- 
dred yards  in  advance.  It  was  a  straightaway  course, 
with  a  four-per-cent.  down  grade.  The  Happy  Thought 
was  certainly  doing  two  feet  to  one,  and  the  next  three 
minutes  ought  to  settle  it.  Nearer  and  nearer,  until  he 
could  plainly  see  the  figures  in  the  wagon.  "Smooth 
Jim  "  held  the  reins,  and  his  companion  was  plying  the 
lash  with  desperate  earnestness. 

Fred  felt  a  touch  on  his  shoulder.  "Steady  now," 
drawled  the  Sheriff's  voice.  "  I  reckon  it's  time  to  do 
some  talki n '." 

Bang!  And  the  heavy  44-calibre  bullet  sung  on  its 
way. 

"And  missed!"  screamed  Jack  from  behind,  as  a  little 
puff  of  lime-dust  showed  where  the  lead  had  struck  the 
hard  surface  of  the  pike.  "No  use,  Sheriff,"  he  added; 
"  they  couldn't  stop  now  if  they  wanted  to.  The  horses 
have  bolted." 

Jack  was  right.  The  horses,  maddened  by  the  whip, 
had  taken  the  bit  in  their  teeth  and  broken  into  a  wild 
headlong  gallop,  with  the  wagon  swaying  and  jumping 
bi'liind  them  like  a  ship's  yawl  in  a  sudden  seaway. 
And  the  toll-gate  was  hardly  fifty  yards  away,  and 
closed.  In  another  instant  the  horses,  blind  with  terror, 
would  be  into  it,  and  then — Fred  involuntarily  shut  his 
eyes. 

A  dozen  yards  further  on  and  he  looked  again.  The 
keeper,  startled  by  the  pistol-shot,  had  run  out  of  the 
house,  and  stood  gazing  up  the  road,  struck  dumb  and 
motionless  by  the  appalling  sense  of  the  impending  ca- 
tastrophe. But  only  for  the  moment,  and  then,  as  though 
stirred  by  some  blind  impulse,  he  grasped  the  lever,  and 
the  heavy  gate  swung  slowly  open.  Another  and  yet 
another  foot  of  clear  space,  and  it  was  touch  and  go  as 
th 3  horses  thundered  down  into  the  opening. 

The  gate  swung  in  the  same  direction  that  the  wagon 
was  running,  and  for  a  moment  it  looked  as  though  ev- 
erything would  go  clear.  But  it  was  just  that  last  six 
inches.  The  front  near  hub  locked  with  the  end  brace 
of  the  gate,  and  the  shock  threw  the  hind  wheels  fair 
against  the  opposite  post.  A  splintering  of  wood,  a  crash- 
ing of  heavy  bolts,  and  "Smooth  Jim"  and  his  pal  lay 
stunned  and  motionless  in  the  ditch,  while  straight  down 
into  the  chaos  of  dust  and  wreckage  drove  the  Happy 
Thought  just  as  Fred's  whistle  to  "shut  off  and  hold 
hard  "  rang  out  sharp  and  shrill  above  the  deafening  roar 
of  the  exhaust  pipes. 

Well,  it  was  a  close  shave,  and  no  thanks  to  Fred's 
skill  in  steering,  that  the  Happy  Thought  kept  her  feet, 
if  one  may  express  it  in  that  way.  A  hundred  yards 
down  the  road,  and  the  brakes  brought  them  to  a  full 
stop.  The  horses,  who  had  broken  loose  from  the  wagon 
when  the  shock  came,  were  standing  near,  trembling  but 
uninjured.  Mr.  Jones  had  hastened  back  to  the  scene  of 
the  accident,  and  was  apparently  engaged  in  the  formal- 
ity of  reading  the  warrant  of  arrest  over  his  unconscious 
prisoners.  Fred  put  out  his  hand  and  grasped  Jack's 
warmly. 

"I  obeyed  orders,"  said  Jack;  "but  why  did  you  hold 
on  so  long?" 


Fred  laughed.  "  Well,  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  lay 
the  Happy  Thought  alongside  of  that  buckboard,  and,  to 
tell  the  truth,  I  just  lost  myself  for  that  last  minute  or 
two.  It  wasn't  till  I  saw  the  wagon  fly  into  the  air  that 
I  remembered  about  the  whistle  in  my  mouth  and  what 
it  was  there  for.  And,  after  all,  they  might  have  gone 
through  clear." 

The  two  bank-robbers,  who  had,  after  all,  escaped  with 
a  severe  shaking  up,  had  recovered  their  senses,  and  were 
contemplating  with  sulky  dazed  eyes  the  bright  steel 
bracelets  that  adorned  their  wrists.  The  money  had  been 
recovered,  except  that  one  bag  containing  a  hundred 
double  eagles  had  been  broken  open  and  its  contents  scat- 
tered around.  The  boys,  with  the  assistance  of  the  gate- 
keeper, picked  up  the  coins,  while  Mr.  Jones  acted  as 
cashier. 

"Ninety-nine,"  said  Fred,  finally.  "One  twenty-dol- 
lar piece  still  missing." 

"Oh,  I've  got  that,"  said  the  toll-gatherer,  "and  here's 
your  change."  He  handed  Fred  nineteen  dollars  and 
ninety-one  cents  in  bills  and  silver. 

Fred  looked  puzzled. 

"Went  through  the  gate,  didn't  ye?"  continued  the 
businesslike  official.  "Two  cents  for  each  passenger  is 
six,  and  three  more  for  your  critter  makes  nine.  It 
wasn't  natchully  clown  on  the  schedule,  that  machine  of 
yourn,  but  I'm  willing  to  let  it  go  fur  horned  cattle." 

"That's  all  right,  boys,"  laughed  the  Sheriff;  "  there's 
five  hundred  dollars  reward  for  it  to  come  out  of." 


GREAT    STATE    PAPERS. 

BY  HENRY  CLEMENT  HOLMES. 

CERTIFICATES    OF    LIBERTY. 

IS  it  not  odd  that  a  perfect  copy  of  the  Constitution  of 
the  United  States  has  never  yet  been  printed?  Such 
is  the  fact,  queer  though  it  is.  Every  copy  that  has  ever 
been  compared  with  the  originals  has  been  found  imper- 
fect. Words,  phrases,  and  sometimes  whole  sentences 
have  been  omitted.  Even  the  most  exact  copies  changed 
many  "  buts"  and  "  thes"— alterations  that  might  easily 
affect  a  legal  decision. 

Another  odd  fact  is  the  so-called  liberties  of  Magna 
Charla,  often  .described  by  orators  who  wish  to  be  unusu- 
ally eloquent.  Those  "  liberties  "  are  so  hidden  in  the  un- 
certain Latin  and  worse  penmanship  of  that  famous  doc- 
ument that  we  cannot,  with  any  approach  to  exactitude, 
say  what  they  are.  Indeed,  Magna  Charla  is  celebrated 
not  so  much  for  what  it  contains  as  because  it  was  the 
first  long  step  toward  the  liberty  of  English  -speaking 
people;  the  first  curtailment  of  one-man  power;  the  first 
word  the  commoner  ever  had  in  his  own  behalf;  the  first 
break  in  the  wall  that  was  once  thought  to  hedge  about  a 
"divine"  King. 

The  original  Magna  Charta  is  a  single  sheet  of  coarse 
parchment,  about  twenty  by  forty  inches  in  size.  It  is 
unruled,  and  the  lines  run  the  short  way  of  the  sheet. 
Itishardly  legible,  even  in  thecapital  letters,  but  it  begins 
with  the  name  of  the  King,  followed  by  his  titles.  The 
lines  are  straight,  but  the  penmanship  is  cramped.  The 
language  is  Latin,  and  the  text  contains  not  a  few  dis- 
puted words  and  terms. 

Eighteen  barons  signed  the  important  paper — and  at 
the  same  time  signed  their  warrants  to  a.  place  in  English 
history — and  were  followed  by  King  John,  who  wrote  a 
fair  hand  for  the  day  in  which  he  lived — and  for  a  King. 
For  a  seal  a  stone  (evidently  picked  up  on  the  plain  of 
Runnymede)  was  attached  by  running  a  leathern  thong 


430 


HARPER'S   YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


through  it.  I  have  held  this  unique  seal  in  my  hands — 
a  piece  of  black  and  white  quartz  that  has  witnessed  our 
political  liberties  since  1215,  a  period  of  six  hundred  and 
seventy-nine  years! 

Magna  Charta  was  almost  destroyed  in  the  great  Lon- 
don fire  of  1666,  and  is  now  singed  and  quite  illegible 
across  the  upper  half.  It  is  preserved  in  a  faded  blue 
plush  case,  and  kept  in  the  Cottonian  Library  of  the 
British  Museum. 

The  path  of  political  liberty  took  another  turn  in  the 
Bill  of  Rights,  which  seated  William  and  Mary  on  the 
throne  of  England;  and  yet  another  and  sharper  turn  in 
the  Declaration  which  Jefferson  wrote  and  which  Frank- 
lin altered  not  a  little.  You  are  all  familiar  with  this 
Declaration.  The  original  hangs  in  the  library  of  the 
State  Department  at  Washington.  It  is  in  a  heavy  wal- 
nut case  and  under  glass,  yet  the  lines,  and  especially  the 
signatures,  are  faded  almost  to  illegibility. 

You  remember  that  it  was  only  after  a  second  attempt 
that  we  made  a  document  that  would  hold  our  States  to- 
gether, tiie  first  attempt,  the  old  Articles  of  Confederation, 
having  proved  a  failure.  These  Articles  of  Confedera- 
tion are  written  upon  a  parchment  roll  that  is  fifteen 
inches  wide  and  about  twenty  feet  long.  This  odd  form 
was  copied  from  the  old  records  of  the  British  Parlia- 
ment. The  penmanship  in  which  these  articles  are  writ- 
ten is  a  curious  old  script,  rather  large  and  open,  and 
yet  not  easily  read.  The  first  few  lines  are  straight  across 
the  unruled  roll,  but  presently  they  begin  to  zigzag,  and 
finally  to  run  down  hill.  An  exact  margin  of  two  and 
a  half  inches  at  each  side  of  the  text  is  maintained  at 
first,  hut  hardly  does  it  reach  Article  First  before  one  line 
strays  into  the  nice  margin  at  tlie  right.  By-the-way, 
this  Article  First  fixes  our  national  name — The  United 
States  of  America,  and  where  it  says  the  style  of  the 
Confederation  shall  be  so  and  so,  it  spells  the  word 
'•stile." 

At  the  very  beginning,  and  covering  the  full  width  of 
the  text,  are  the  words,  in  large  letters,  "  To  all  to  whom." 
These  words  are  executed  in  a  hand-printing — an  ama- 
teurish attempt  at  old  English  script.  This  long  parch- 


KATIFICATION    OP   STATE   OF   NEW    YnTiK. 


ment  is  rolled  on  what  you  might  easily  mistake  for  the 
rolling-pin  your  mother  uses  when  she  makes  pie  crust, 
and  it  is  kept  in  a  rusty  tin  tube  that  stands  on  end  in  a 
closet  in  the  Department  of  State  in  Washington. 

The  original  Constitution  of  the  United  States  was 
written  upon  a  long  roll,  that  was  afterward  cut  up  and 
put  under  glass  in  five  oak  frames  two  inches  deep,  and 
fourteen  by  nineteen  inches  in  size.  In  four  of  these 
frames  are  parchment  sheets,  easily  filling  the  space,  on 
which  are  written  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States. 
In  the  fifth  frame  are  the  signatures,  and  the  resolution 
submitting  the  document  to  the  States  for  ratification. 
This  is  the  original  of  our  national  Constitution — the 
only  Constitution  our  republic  ever  had.  Most  States  of 
the  Union  have  had  from  two  to  half  a  dozen  Constitu- 
tions, and  the  Empire  State  has  recently  changed  its  Con- 
stitution again. 

Tbe  lilies  of  this  original  Constitution  of  the  United 
States  run  across  the  sheet,  and  the  penmanship  is  very 
coarse.  The  preamble,  which  so  many  of  you  can  re- 
peat, is  separated  from  the  text  by  a  narrow  space,  and 
there  is  no  attempt  at  fancy  lettering  in  the  opening 
words,  as  there  is  in  the  Articles  of  Confederation.  Many 
of  the  signatures  are  the  same  as  are  found  at  the  bottom 
of  the  Declaration  of  Independence.  The  amendments, 
even  the  very  first  one,  do  not  form  part  of  this  original, 
but  are  written  upon  separate  rolls  of  parchment,  and 
preserved  in  tin  tubes  that  stand  in  the  corner  of  a  closet. 
The  number  of  these  tubes  is  greatly  increased  by  those 
that  contain  the  official  ratifications  by  the  States.  The 
earlier  of  these  ratifications  includes  approval  of  the  Con- 
stitution and  of  the  earlier  amendments.  Later  amend- 
ments, such  as  the  celebrated  Fourteenth  and  Fifteenth, 
adopted  at  later  dates,  required  separate  ratifications,  and 
separate  tubes. 

The  ratification  of  the  State  of  New  York,  approving 
the   amendment  about   electors  for  President  and  Vice- 
President,  and  dated  1804,  is  so  beautifully  engrossed  that 
it  resembles  steel  engraving.      It  is  eighteen  by  twenty- 
six    inches   in    size,  and   is   written  the  long  way  of  the 
paper.      It  bears  the  Excelsior  coat  of  arms  in  a  conspicu- 
ous   place,  and    is   signed 
"  Geo.  Clinton, "in  a  hand 
that  suggests  the  plough- 
man more   than   the  pen- 
man.      This     ratification 
merely    recites     that     the 
amendment     in    question 
has  been  duly  ratified  by 
the  proper  State  authori- 
ties. 

Did  you  ever  read  about 
the  agreement  among  the 
delegates  to  the  Constitu- 
tional Convention  that 
framed  our  national  Con- 
stitution to  the  effect  that 
no  record  should  be  kept 
of  what  the  delegates  said 
in  debate?  The  Journal 
of  the  Convention  merely 
recites  the  dry  facts  as  that 
on  this  or  that  day  Arti- 
cle so  and  so  was  consid- 
ered and  agreed  to.  Pos- 
sibly you-  have  also  read 
how  James  Madison,  after- 
ward President  Madison, 
alone  of  all  the  delegates 
disregarded  the  agree- 
ment, and  hence  gave  us 
our  only  insight  into  how 
the  keel  of  our  Ship  of 


APRIL  23,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUA'G  PEOPLE. 


437 


State  was  really  laid.  Madison's  notes,  which  are  among; 
the  most  famous  of  great  papers,  throw  a  world  of  inter- 
esting light  upon  the  making-  of  this,  the  most  remark- 
able document  of  its  kind  that  civilization  lias  yet 
framed. 

The  sheets  on  which  Delegate  Madison  made  his  notes 
of  the  few  opening  days  of  the  Convention  are  only  four 
by  six  inches  in  size,  and  the  paper  is  quite  poor  in  qual- 
ity— apparently  just  what  he  happened  to  have.  Imme- 
diately thereafter  the  paper  improves  both  in  style  and 
quality,  and  continues  uniform  to  the  end,  showing  that, 
having  decided  to  make  a  careful  record  of  the  debates  of 
the  historic  convention,  lie  provided  himself  with  a  quan- 
tity of  suitable  paper,  realizing  that  he  was  writing  for  all 
future  generations  of  America. 

Madison's  notes  are  written  on  pale  hlue  paper  that  is 
rough  and  unruled,  seven  and  a  half  by  nine  inches, 
and  folded  once — at  the  left.  Upon  the  first  sheet  he 
records  the  election  of  George  Washington  as  President 
of  the  Convention.  The  hand  is  small,  and  the  lines 
straight.  The  penmanship  is  that  of  a  business  man — 
that  is,  all  unnecessary  parts  of  letters  are  dispensed  with. 
The  d's  have  no  tops,  and  the  g's  no  bottoms.  There  are 
many  paragraphs.  The  text  is  on  both  sides  of  the 
paper. 

The  speeches  are  not  reported  verbatim,  but  in  the  past 
tense — as  that  Mr.  So-and-so  said,  etc.  Toward  the  end  of 
the  notes  Mr.  Madison  records  that  paragraphs  and  some- 
times whole  sections  of  the  Constitution  had  been  agreed 
upon  on  the  day  in  question.  The  paragraphs  read  as 


THE    ARTICLES    OP    CONFEDERATION. 


we  read  them  in  the  Constitution  now,  and  thus  we  are 
able  to  see,  step  by  step,  the  development  of  this  remark- 
able document.  Madison's  notes  are  owned  by  the  na- 
tional government,  and  are  preserved  in  handsome  leather 
bindings. 


SNOW-SHOES    AND    SLEDGES. 


A    Sequel    to    "The    Fur-Seal's    Tooth." 

i;  V     K  I  R  K     M  U  N  R  O  E, 
AUTHOR  ui    "  DORVMAIES,"  "  CAMPMATES,"  "  RAKTMATF.S,"  "  CAKOEMATES,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER     XV. 
PHIL    HEARS    FROM    HIS    FATHER. 

MONTHS  before  Phil  and  Serge  had  bidden  farewell 
to  Jalap  Coombs  in  an  ancient  barrabkie  on  Ooni- 
mak  Island.  They  believed  they  were  only  leaving  him 
for  a  short  time,  but  on  their  return  he  had  disappeared, 
nor  from  that  day  to  this  had  they  learned  anything  con- 
cerning him.  Now  to  have  him  reappear  in  this  myste- 
rious manner  in  an  Indian  village  hundreds  of  miles  up 
the  Yukon  River,  apparently  friendless  and  alone,  was  so 
incredible  that,  after  his  first  exclamation,  Phil  stepped 
closer  and  took  another  look  at  the  weather-beaten  face 
to  establish  its  identity  bej-ond  a  doubt. 

"  Oh,  it's  me,  son  !  It's  me,  fast  enough!''  cried  the  ex- 
mate  of  the  Seamew,  in  a  voice  that  trembled  with  jo3'ful 
emotion  as  he  sprang  to  his  feet  and  grasped  Phil's  hand 
in  his.  At  the  same  time  a  suspicious  dimness  came  into 
his  eyes  that  he  brushed  away  hastily. 

"  It's  the  same  old  Jalap,"  lie  continued,  "and  only  one 
minute  ago  he  were  about  as  forlorn  and  miserable  a 
sailor-man  as  ever  were  stranded  a  thousand  miles  from 
salt  water.  Now  seeing  that  in  sick  a  short  space  of 
time  he's  been  h'isted  from  the  hold  of  grief  to  the  main- 
r'yal  mast-head  of  happiness  by  the  sight  of  your  blessed 
phiz,  ye  mustn't  be  surprised  to  find  his  rigging  at  loose 
ends  and  decks  generally  cluttered  up.  But  the  squall's 
blown  over.  lad.  You've  brought  fair  weather,  and  I'll 
have  the  old  packet  shipshape  and  Bristol  fashion  again 


in  a  shake.  What  I  sartainly  orter  done  was  to  remem- 
ber my  old  friend  Kite  Roberson's  advice  consarning 
squalls.  I've  spoke  to  ye  of  old  Kite  afore,  hain't  IT 

"  The  name  sounds  familiar."  replied  Phil.  "  But  how 
in  the  name  of — 

"Waal,  ef  I  didn't  I'd  orter,  for  Kite  were  one  of  the 
finest  of  men.  Why,  me  and  him — 

"  Oh  yes,  now  I  remember,"  assented  Phil.  "  What  did 
he  say  about  squalls?" 

''That  in  all  his  experience  he  never  see  a  squall  so 
heavy  but  what  fair  weather  'd  come  after  it  sooner  or 
later.  But  Phil,  my  son,  where  hev  you  dropped  from? 
Where's  your  shipmate?  And  where's  that  bloomin' 
shark  of  a  cap'n  what  carried  ye  off  right  from  under 
your  own  father's  very  eyes?" 

"My  father!"  shouted  Phil.  "What  do  you  know- 
about  my  father?  Have  you  ever  seen  him?  Where  is 
he?  Has  he  gone  on  up  the  river?" 

"Yes,"  cried  Serge,  entering  at  that  moment,  and 
greeting  his  old  friend  with  extended  hand,  "that  is 
what  we  want  to  know  first  of  all.  Where  is  Mr.  Ryder? 
They  told  me  he  was  in  here  with  Phil,  so  I  waited  out- 
side until  certain  that  the  only  other  voice  was  yours, 
and  then  I  ventured  in." 

"  Of  course  ye  did,  and  I'm  prouder  to  see  you  than  ef 
ye  were  the  King  of  all  the  Rooshias,  and  Chiny  to  boot. 
But  consarning  your  father,  Phil.  Have  I  ever  seed 
him,  say  you?  Waal,  occasionally,  considering  as  me 
and  him  cruised  together  for  nigh  two  months  in  Bering 


438 


HARPER'S    YOUNG    PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


Sea  sarching  for  you  boys.  When  we  finally  come  up 
with  ye  in  Norton  Sound,  and  see  that  you  were  steam- 
ing right  ahead,  paying  no  attention  to  signals,  it  mighty 
nigh  broke  your  father's  heart.  It  stopped  a  bit  short  of 
that,  though,  and  only  broke  his  leg  instead,  at  which  the 
swab  as  were  steering-  run  the  schooner  aground  on  a 
mud  bank.  Then  by  the  time  I'd  got  Mr.  Ryder  below 
and  come  011  deck  again  you  were  hull  down." 

"Do  you  mean  that  my  father  actually  broke  one  of 
his  legs?"  queried  Phil,  who  could  not  believe  he  had 
heard  aright. 

"  Sartain  I  do,1'  was  the  answer.  "You  see,  we  were 
aboard  an  old  tub  named  Philomel,  which  we  had  char- 
tered her  in  Oonalaska  for  a  cruise  to  Oonimak  to  pick 
3Tou  up.  Thar  we  fell  in  with  a  reveiioo-cutter.  and  she 
sent  us  up  to  the  islands — 

'•  Not  the  Phocai" 

"The  very  same,  with  Miss  May  and  Cap'n  Matthews 
in  command.  At  the  islands  we  heerd  of  ye  through  an 
Injin  chap  who  had  piloted  your  ship — 

"  Nikrik!"  exclaimed  Serge. 

"  Nikrik  were  his  name,"  assented  Jalap  Coombs. 
"  So  we  give  chase,  laid  a  course  for  St.  Michaels,  and 
got  there  in  time  for  Mr.  Ryder  to  make  you  out  through 
his  glass.  Then  he  thought  he  had  ye  for  sure,  though 
I  give  him  one  of  old  Kite  Roberson's  warnings.  But  lie 
didn't  take  no  notice,  and  were  climhing  the  main  rin- 
ging to  make  a  signal  for  ye  to  heave  to,  when  a  ratlin' 
give  way  and  dropped  him  on  deck.  The  man  at  the 
wheel  jumped  to  save  him,  and  so  did  I,  but  it  warn't  no 
use.  He'd  broke  his  leg,  and  the  old  Philomel  took  a 
sheer  into  the  mud." 

"  Poor  father!"  sighed  Phil.  "  Now  I  know  why  I've 
been  worrying  about  him.  I  can't  understand,  though, 
how  he  could  undertake  such  a  terrible  journey  with  a 
broken  leg." 

"Why  not?  They  made  him  as  comfortable  as  ef  he 
were  in  his  own  home.  Besides,  there  warn't  nothing 
else  to  be  did." 

"  Comfortable!  with  a  broken  leg,  on  a  dog-sledge  trip 
of  a  thousand  miles  through  an  arctic  wilderness  in  mid- 
winter!" cried  Phil.  "Seems  to  me  any  one  who  could 
lind  comfort  under  those  conditions  might  live  in  luxury 
on  an  iceberg  in  the  Polar  Sea." 

"Which  it  has  been  did,"  replied  the  mate,  gravely. 
"  But  it  begins  to  look  as  ef  me  and  you  were  sailing  on 
different  tacks.  Where  is  it  that  you  suppose  your  fa- 
ther to  be  at  this  blessed  minute?" 

"Somewhere  on  the  Yukon,  not  more  than  a  day's 
journeyfrom  here,  though  when  I  entered  this  room  just 
now  I  fully  expected  to  see  him,"  replied  Phil,  who  had 
so  long  cherished  the  hope  of  a  speedy  meeting  with  his 
father  that  he  could  not  even  relinquish  the  idea  of  his 
proximity. 

"Yes,"  added  Serge,  "that  is  what  we  were  told,  and 
we  have  come  nearly  four  hundred  miles  up  the  river  in 
search  of  him." 

It  was  now  Jalap  Coombs's  turn  to  stare  in  amazement. 
At  length  he  said:  "So  you're  spending  the  winter  up 
here  hunting  him,  be  ye?  while  he  spent  .the  best  part  of 
the  summer  down  there  hunting  you.  Seems  to  me  it's 
a  leetle  the  most  mixed-up  hunting  I  ever  were  consarned 
in.  But  it  only  goes  to  prove  what  my  old  friend  Kite 
Robei-son  useter  offen  say.  He  useter  say,  Kite  did,  that 
the  liest  way  to  find  a  man  is  to  set  still  in  some  likely 
place  till  lie  comes  by;  but  I  never  could  hardly  believe 
it  till  this  minute.  Now  I  can  see  that  ef  Phil  had  set 
in  Victoria  his  father  would  have  found  him.  Ef  he'd 
set  on  the  Seamew  he'd  found  his  father  in  Sitka.  Ef 
he'd  set  on  the  cutter  they'd  met  at  Oonimak.  Ef  he'd 
set  at  the  islands  he'd  seen  his  father  come  that  way  afore 
long;  and  the  same  at  the  Redoubt.  Likewise,  ef  Mr. 
Ryder  had  set  at  St.  Michaels  in  place  of  going  to  San 


Francisco  on  the  Bear,  Phil  would  find  him  there  when 
he  goes  back  from  here.  Yes,  old  Kite  were  a  wiser  man 
than  most,  though  you'd  never  believe  it  to  see  him." 

"You  say  that  my  father  has  gone  to  San  Francisco. 
Why  did  he  do  that?"  queried  the  still  bewildered  boy. 

"  To  dock  for  repairs.  You  see,  the  Bear  were  the 
last  ship  of  the  season  to  go  out,  and  so  she  were  his  only 
chance.  She  had  a  wracked  crew  aboard  as  were  willing 
to  carry  the  Philomel  back  to  Oonalaska,  and  that  left 
me  free  to  continue  the  search  for  you  boys." 

"  Well,"  said  Phil,  "  of  course  it's  an  awful  disappoint- 
ment to  find  that  I'm  not  to  meet  my  father,  at  least  not 
for  some  months  to  come,  after  all  the  trouble  I've  taken 
to  find  him.  At  the  same  time  I  am  glad  to  know  that  he 
is  safely  out  of  this  country  for  the  winter,  even  if  it  did 
take  a  broken  leg  to  persuade  him  of  the  foolishness  of 
hunting  for  me.  I  should  think  he  might  have  found 
out  long  before  that,  though,  how  well  able  Serge  and  I 
were  to  take  care  of  ourselves.  Poor  dear  pop!  How  he 
must  have  suffered!  I  only  hope  he  will  stay  quietly  in 
San  Francisco  until  I  can  get  to  him.  Did  he  say  how 
long  he  would  wait  there?" 

"Only  till  sich  time  as  he  got  his  leg  spliced  and  is 
able  to  travel.  Then  he's  got  to  come  back  to  Sitka  and 
settle  up  his  business." 

"  In  that  case  things  are  working  out  all  right  after 
all,"  said  Phil,  "  for  Sitka  is  the  very  place  we  are  bound 
for  at  this  very  minute." 

"But  he  warn't  going  to  stop  there,"  continued  Jalap 
Coombs,  "only  till  the  first  spring  ship  left  for  St.  Mi- 
chaels, when  he  reckoned  to  take  passage  on  her  and 
come  up  after  you." 

"But  how  did  he  expect  to  find  us  at  St.  Michaels  in 
the  spring  when  he  knew  we  left  there  in  September?" 

"Because  the  very  cruise  I'm  shipped  for  is  to  find 
you,  pilot  you  back  there,  and  moor  alongside  of  ye  till 
lie  heaves  in  sight  again.  You  see,  he's  taken  a  notion 
that  he'd  like  to  come  up  the  river  and  have  a  look  at 
the  diggings,  which  he  don't  feel  that  he  can  till  he  has 
you  once  more  in  tow.  So,  seeing  as  I  were  out  of  a 
berth  for  the  winter,  and  we  heerd  as  you  were  froze  in 
somewheres  up  here  *on  the  river,  I  took  the  contract  to 
hunt  ye  and  fetch  ye  back.  I'll  allow,  though,  that  things 
were  looking  pretty  dubious  for  me  awhile  ago,  and  ef 
you  hadn't  hove  in  sight  as  ye  did  I'd  been  all  at  sea 
without  compass  or  yet  a  chart.  Now,  though,  it's  all 
plain  sailing  again,  and — 

"Is  it?"  interrupted  Phil.  "Seems  to  me  this  whole 
affair  is  about  as  completely  snarled  as  any  I  ever  had 
anything  to  do  with,  unless  it  was  a  fighting  dog-team. 
To  begin  with—  But,  I  say,  suppose  we  have  supper 
first  and  discuss  the  situation  afterwards.  I  for  one  am 
too  hungry  to  think." 

"  If  you  are  any  more  hungry  than  I  am  you  are  hun- 
gry enough  to  be  dangerous,"  laughed  Serge;  while  Ja- 
lap Coombs  remarked  that  supper  was  the  very  thing  he 
was  considering  when  Phil  entered  the  room.  "And  a 
mighty  poor  lookout  it  were,"  he  added,  "for  I  hadn't 
any  gun,  nor  didn't  know  the  best  place  to  steal  any,  nor 
yet  warn't  quite  hungry  enough  to  steal  a  supper  any- 
way. So  I  were  jest  concluding  to  go  without,  same  as 
I  did  for  dinner.  But  ef  you  boys  has  got  anything  to 
eat — 

"Have  we?"  cried  Phil ;  "  you  just  wait  and  see.  Serge, 
did  you  know  this  was  Christmas  day?" 

"No,"  laughed  Serge,  "for  it  isn't." 

"Well,  it  is  so  near  to  it,  and  this  meeting  is  such  a 
joyous  occasion,  that  I  move  we  trot  out  our  mince-pies, 
and  plum -puddings,  and  roast  turkeys,  and  pemmiean, 
and  things,  and  have  a  regular  Christmas  blow-out.  That 
is,  always  supposing  that  Mr.  Coombs  will  loan  us  the 
use  of  his  house.  This  is  your  house,  is  it  not,  Mr. 
Coombs?" 


APRIL  23,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


439 


•'  Sartain  it  is,"  replied  the  mate,  with  a  grin,  and  en- 
tering fully  into  Phil's  absurdities.  "Leastways  there 
ain't  no  one  come  to  turn  me  out  of  it  yet.  So  you're  as 
welcome  to  it  as  I  be.  For,  as  old  Kite  Roberson  useter 
say— 

''  Let's  have  him  for  dessert,"  laughed  Phil,  as  he  start- 
ed outside  to  discover  what  had  become  of  the  sledges. 

CHAPTER   XVI. 
THE    MATE'S    STORY. 

IT  is  doubtful  if  there  was  a  happier  party  in  the  Yu- 
kon Valley,  or  even  in  all  Alaska,  than  that  which  un- 
bidden, though  none  the  less  certain  of  their  welcome, 
took  possession  of  the  mission-house  at  old  Fort  Adams 
that  roaring  December  night.  Certainly  no  one  could  be 
happier  than  was  Jalap  Coombs  at  this  meeting  with  the 
boys  in  whose  fortunes  his  had  become  so  strangely  in- 
volved. At  the'  time  of  their  opportune  appearance  he 
was  in  one  of  the  most  unhappy  and  perplexing  predica- 
ments of  his  whole  checkered  career;  but  now  his  trou- 
bles were  blown  away  like  a  morning  mist,  and  already 
wellnigh  forgotten. 

Whjen  the  schooner  Philomel,  finally  released  from  the 
bank  011  which  she  had  grounded,  reached  St.  Michaels, 
Mr.  Ryder  was  greatly  distressed  by  the  accounts  given 
him  of  the  expedition  on  which  Phil  and  Serge  had  em- 
barked. Knowing  nothing  of  the  conditions  under  which 
they  had  been  so  glad  to  accept  the  friendly  offer  of  a 
roundabout  passage  to  Sitka,  and  receiving  a  cruelly  false 
impression  of  Gerald  Hauler's  character  as  well  as  of  his 
objects  in  ascending  the  Yukon,  he  concluded  that  the 
boys  had  been  trapped  into  a  reckless  venture,  which 
could  only  lead  them  to  disaster  and  suffering.  In  fancy 
he  saw  them  imprisoned  by  an  arctic  winter  on  a  wretch- 
edly constructed  and  poorly  equipped  boat  as  the  Chimo 
was  described  to  him,  or  in  some  squalid  Indian  village 
confronted  by  freezing,  starvation,  and  disease,  remote 
from  human  aid  and  without  the  means  of  escape. 

Bitterly  did  he  deplore  the  accident  that  prevented  him 
from  organizing  a  relief  party  and  going  m  person  to 
their  rescue.  When,  on  the  day  after  his  own  arrival,  the 
revenue-cutter  Bear  touched  at  St.  Michaels  on  her  way 
south  and  her  commander  offered  him  a  passage  to  San 
Francisco,  where  he  could  receive  the  surgical  attendance 
he  so  greatly  needed,  he  at  first  refused,  declaring  that 
nothing  would  induce  him  to  leave  the  country  without 
his  boy  Phil. 

Then  it  was  that  Jalap  Coombs  offered  to  remain  in 
his  place,  make  an  overland  trip  to  the  Yukon  as  soon  as 
winter  travel  should  be  practicable,  find  the  boys,  and 
bring  them  back  to  St.  Michaels,  there  to  await  Mr.  Ry- 
der's return  in  the  spring. 

"But  you  know  nothing  of  the  country  nor  of  sledge 
travel,"  objected  the  latter.  "You  will  not  even  know 
on  what  portion  of  the  river  to  look  for  the  boys.  And, 
besides,  what  shall  we  do  with  the  Philomel,  which  has 
already  cost  me  more  than  I  can  well  afford?" 

"It  is  true,  sir,  as  you  say,  that  I  am  ignorant  of  the 
cruising -ground,"  replied  Jalap  Coombs,  "but  I'd  be  a 
poor  sailor -man  ef  with  chart  and  compass  I  couldn't 
make  out  to  lay  a  course.  Also,  I've  heerd  of  a  party  as 
expects  to  start  from  here  on  a  visit  to  all  the  up-river 
trading-stations  as  soon  as  the  season  for  sledge  naviga- 
tion opens,  and  I  reckon  there  wouldn't  be  no  difficulty 
about  me  shipping  with  them  as  ex  try  hand. 

"As  for  driving  dogs,  my  old  friend  Kite  Roberson 
useter  say  that  a  man  can  1'arii  any  trade  ef  he  has  to. 
At  the  same  time  I'm  considerable  handy  with  both  be- 
laying-pins  and  rope-ends,  which,  I  take  it,  would  be  jest 
as  improving  to  the  usefulness  of  dogs  as  to  a  crew  of 
swabs,  when  it  comes  to  getting  the  bearings  of  the  port 
in  which  the  lads  are  laid  by  for  the  winter  that  would. 


seem  to  be  "a  case  of  the  plainest  kind  of  sailing.  They're 
bound  to  be  friz  in  afore  long,  even  ef  their  old  kettle 
doesn't  break  down  and  leave  'cm  stranded,  which  it's  like- 
ly it  will.  Waal,  then,  I  strikes  across  country  from  here 
to  the  river,  and  says  to  the  natyves  what  lives  on  its 
banks:  'Has  sich  and  sich  a  steamer  gone  up  stream?' 
says  I;  which  ef  they  answers  si,  or  pui,  or  ja,  or  what- 
ever stands  for  yes  in  their  lingo,  I  likewise  goes  on  up. 
Ef  they  shakes  their  heads,  which  is  '  No  '  the  world  over. 
then  I  naturally  goes  down,  and  keeps  on  down  till  I 
meets  her." 

In  spite  of  his  present  pain  and  mental  distress  Mr. 
Ryder  could  not  help  smiling  at  the  readiness  with  which 
the  simple-minded  sailor  thus  disposed  of  difficulties  that 
to  most  people  would  appear  insurmountable.  "But 
what  shall  we  do  with  the  Pln'lomcl?"  he  asked,  after  a 
few  moments'  consideration. 

"  Send  her  back  to  Oonalaska  in  charge  of  the  wracked 
vdialing  cap'n  what  has  jest  come  in  on  the  Bear.  He'll 
take  her,  and  be  glad  of  the  job,  for  I've  already  sounded 
him." 

The  more  Mr.  Ryder  thought  over  the  plan  thus  pro- 
posed by  the  man  who  had  already  proved  himself  so 
capable,  so  loyal,  and  so  stanch  a  friend  of  the  lost  boys, 
the  more  favorably  was  he  inclined  towards  it,  and  at 
length  he  decided  to  accept  the  mate's  proffered  services. 
So,  with  many  parting  injunctions,  and  leaving  with  him 
a  sum  of  money  sufficient  to  defray  his  share  of  expenses 
in  the  proposed  expedition.  Phil's  father  sailed  away  on 
the  Bear  in  search  of  the  medical  aid  that  should  enable 
him  to  return  a  few  months  later  and  undertake,  hi \com- 
pany  with  his  boy,  a  long-cherished  scheme  of  exploration 
among  the  fabled  gold-fields  of  the  interior. 

Some  six  weeks  later  Jalap  Coombs  also  set  forth  from 
St.  Michaels  in  company  with  two  white  men,  both  of 
whom  expressed  an  ardent  admiration  for  Phil  Ryder 
and  great  joy  at  the  prospect  of  assisting  in  his  rescue 
from  the  wiles  of  the  unprincipled  trader  who  had  lured 
him  away.  Under  their  direction  the  confiding  sailor 
invested  the  entire  sum  left  him  by  Mr.  Ryder  in  dogs, 
sledges,  and  provisions,  tie  was  amazed  at  the  exorbi- 
tant prices  charged  him  for  these  things,  and  was  still 
more  so  to  discover,  when  a  few  days  out  from  the  fort, 
that  with  all  his  outlay  he  was  credited  with  but  one 
team  and  a  single  sledge-load  of  provisions,  which  he  soon 
found  himself  exchanging  for  fish  with  whicli  to  feed  his 
dogs. 

Furthermore,  as  he  had  been  unable  to  master  the  art 
of  dog-driving,  his  obliging  friends  had  engaged  for  him 
an  Indian,  who  began  to  demand  his  wages  at  the  end  of 
the  first  week,  refused  to  work  unless  he  was  paid  in  ad- 
vance, and  persisted  in  his  demands  with  such  insolence 
that  the  mate  finally  felt  himself  obliged  to  administer 
what  he  called  a  dose  of  belaying-pins  and  rope -ends. 
The  effect  of  this  was  a  future  obedience  to  orders,  accom- 
panied by  a  sullen  hatred,  which  Jalap's  white  compan- 
ions seemed  to  take  a  malicious  delight  in  encouraging. 

This  sledge  party  went  north  along  the  coast  from  St. 
Michaels  to  the  mouth  of  the  Unalaklik  River,  and  fol- 
lowed up  that  stream  for  several  days.  Then,  crossing 
a  divide,  they  struck  the  Yukon  at  a  point  near  Nulato. 
Here  they  were  told  that  a  steamer,  supposed  to  be  the 
Chi  mo.  had  passed  on  her  way  up  the  river  several  days 
before  the  close  of  navigation. 

By  this  time  the  relations  between  poor  Jalap  and  his 
companions  had  become  so  very  unpleasant  that  lie  had 
hoped  for  an  excuse  to  leave  them,  and  go  down  the  river 
from  Nulato.  As  it  was  he  now  felt  obliged  to  continue 
in  their  company  until  the  Chimo  should  be  overtaken. 

At  old  Fort  Adams,  after  conferring  with  the  natives, 
his  fellow-travellers  informed  him  that  the  steamer  was 
frozen  in  about  one  day's  march  above  that  place,  and. 
with  a  lighter  heart  than  he  had  known  since  beginning 


410 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME    XVI. 


A    FEW    MOMENTS    LATER    HIS    DOGS   STARTED    AFTER    THEIR    VANISHED    COMPANIONS. 


Ihe  weary  journey,  he  again  set  forth  with  them,  filled 
with  eager  anticipations.  When  just  at  dusk  of  that 
same  day  they  discovered  a  steamer  snugly  moored  to 
the  bank,  he  read  her  name  with  a  sinking  heart,  for  in- 
stead of  Chimo  it  was  St.  Michaels,  which  he  knew  to  be 
the  name  of  a  boat  belonging  to  a  Catholic  mission  on 
the  lower  river.  Moreover,  she  was  boarded  up  ami  de- 
serted. 

As  Jalap's  companions  noted  his  expression  of  dismay 
they  uttered  shouts  of  mocking  laughter,  and  asked  what 
else  he  had  expected  when  the  Fort  Adams  Indians  had 
mentioned  that  very  name  so  plainly  that  a  deaf  man 
ought  to  have  understood  it. 

In  camp  that  night  the  sailor  announced  his  intention 
of  starting  back  down  the  river  at  daybreak,  at  which 
the  others  only  exchanged  significant  glances,  but  said 
nothing.  In  the  morning,  after  the  sledges  were  loaded 
and  the  dogs  harnessed,  it  was  discovered  that  the  driver 
of  his  sledge  was  missing.  Telling-  him  that  he  was  thus 
rightly  served  for  chastising  the  poor  man,  the  others 
cracked  their  whips  and  started  off  up  the  river,  leaving 
poor  Jalap  standing  on  its  bank  helpless  and  alone.  A 
few  moments  later,  at  the  sound  of  a  familiar  whis- 


tle from  the  direction  they 
had  taken,  his  dogs  started 
after  their  vanished  com- 
panions, carrying  with 
them  his  complete  out- 
fit. 

With  feet  so  badly  used 
up  from  weeks  of  unaccus- 
tomed snow-shoeing  that 
every  step  was  torture,  the 
deserted  man  at  once  rea- 
lized the  folly  of  pursuit, 
and  with  a  heavy  heart  be- 
gan to  retrace  his  slow 
way  to  old  Fort  Adams. 
Reaching  the  mission  com- 
pletely exhausted,  and  un- 
able to  proceed  further,  he 
had  taken  possession  of 
the  missionary's  house. 
Here,  suffering,  penniless, 
friendless,  and  almost  hope- 
less, he  was  trying  to  form 
some  plan  for  the  future 
when  the  door  opened,  and, 
as  he  afterwards  quaintly 
said,  "  Ef  the  good  little 
cherub  what  sets  up  aloft 
watching  over  poor  Jack  at 
sea  had  flowed  in  at  that 
minute,  I  couldn't  been  bet- 
ter pleased  than  I  were  to 
sight  the  blessed  phiz  of 
that  precious  young  rascal, 
Phil  Ryder." 

Such  was  the  tale  re- 
lated by  Jalap  Coombs  to 
Phil  and  Serge  after  the 
three  had  finished  a  din- 
ner that  included  every 
luxury  in  the  outfit  of  our 
young  travellers,  and  be- 
tween long  grateful  pulls 
at  "old  comfort,"  his  pipe, 
which  they  had  also  pro- 
vided with  tobacco. 

When  the  story  was  end- 
ed, Phil  indignantly  de- 
manded to  know  the  names 
of  the  two  white  men  who 

claimed  acquaintance    with  him   and    at   the   same  time 
dared  treat  his  old  friend  so  shamefully. 
"  Simon  Goldollar  were  the  name  of  one." 
"I    might    have    known    it!      The'  sneak!"    broke    in 
Phil. 

"  And  the  other  are  called  Strengel." 
"  The  very  scoundrel  that  I  set  ashore  from  the  Chimo 
for  trying  to  blow  her  up!"  cried  Phil.      "You  remem- 
ber, Serge." 

"  I  should  rather  say  I  did,"  replied  the  young  Russo- 
American.  his  honest  face  flushing  with  anger. 

"  But  what  are  they  going  up  the  river  for,  Mr. 
Coombs  ?" 

"  To  spile  Cap' u  Hamer's  chance  of  doing  any  trading 
at  Forty  Mile,  as  fur  as  I  could  make  out,"  replied  the 
mate. 

"  Oh,  the  villains!"  exclaimed  Phil.  "  And  they  ha-ve 
got  two  days'  start  of  us,  too,  while  you  are  almost  unfit 
for  travel.  Hold  on,  though !  I  have  it!  We  can  do  the 
trick  yet,  and  give  them  a  lesson  in  minding-  their  own 
business.  Hurrah  for  our  side,  after  all !  Serge,  hurrah! 
quick,  before  I  fling  something  at  you." 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


IN     THE    GREENLAND     ICE. 


A     W  II  A  L  E  M  A  N '  S     A  D  V  E  \  T  U  R  E. 


BY  W.  J.    IIENDKItSOX. 


"  O  AY,  Han'some,"said  Farmer  Joe,  "  was  yeou  ever  on 

O  the  Greenland  whalin'-graoun's?" 

"Yes,  I  was,"  replied  Handsome,  "and  I  don't  care 
very  much  about  going1  there  again.'' 

"Why?" 

"  Why?  Because  it's  the  meatiest  country  011  the  face 
of  the  civilized  globe,  that's  why." 

"  What's  the  matter  with  it?" 

"Ice — that's  what." 

"But  I  allus  heerd  tell  as  how  there  were  a  open  sea 
up  there." 

"  Maybe  there  is,  but  I  didn't  see  it.  All  I  saw  was  ice 
and  ice,  and  then  some  more  ice.  I  lived  on  ice,  and  I 
came  pretty  near  dying  on  it." 

"That  saounds  like  the  interduction  to  a  yarn, "said 
Farmer  Joe,  stretching  himself  on  his  back  and  squinting 
at  a  small  white  cloud  which  was  soaring  above  the  fore- 
truck. 

"  Well, "said  Handsome,  "  I  suppose  I  may  as  well  set 
to  work  to  tell  you  all  about  it." 

"That's  what,"  responded  Farmer  Joe,  laconically. 

"Then  here  goes, "said  Handsome,  disposing  his  limbs 
in  a  more  comfortable  position  along  the  sloping  deck. 
"I  won't  say  how  long  ago  this  was,  because  it's  none  of 


your  business  how  old  I  am.  I  shipped  at  New  Bedford 
on  the  whaler  America.  The  Captain,  Joshua  Coffin,  of 
Nantucket,  said  that  he  was  bound  for  the  northern  whal- 
ing-grounds, and  I  had  always  had  a  sneaking  sort  of  a 
notion  that  I'd  like  to  see  a  polar-bear  or  a  walrus  at  home 
instead  of  stuffed  or  in  a  cage.  So  I  up  and  shipped  with 
him  then  and  there.  I've  told  you  fellows  all  about  the 
fitting  out  and  sailing  of  a  whaler,  so  I  won't  go  over  it 
again.  We  cleared  on  a  beautiful  morning  in  February,  it 
being  the  skipper's  idea  to  get  up  north  in  the  spring,  hunt 
whales  all  summer  and  in  the  early  fall,  and  then  make 
for  low  latitudes.  He'd  been  up  there  before,  and  had 
vowed  he  would  never  go  again,  but  I've  noticed  that 
most  men  who've  been  in  the  arctic  once  go  back.  They 
can't  help  it.  It's  a  kind  of  disease.  The  only  way  to 
get  cured  of  it  is  to  get  such  a  dose  as  we  did.  That 
either  cures  or  kills.  Now,  Captain  Coffin —  But  we'll 
get  to  that  after  a  while. 

"We  got  across  the  Nantucket  shoals  and  right  well 
out  to  sea  while  the  pleasant  weather  lasted.  Then  we 
ran  into  a  nor' westerly  gale.  Captain  Coffin  hove  the 
America  to  on  the  port  tack,  and  there  we  staid  for  two 
days,  driftijig  like  a  chip.  However,  when  it  cleared  off 
the  wind  came  in  from  the  southward,  and  we  bowled  along 


THE    LAST    PLUNGE    OF    THE    "AMERICA." 


442 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


at  a  ten-knot  gait.  The  weather  was  good  enough,  though 
the  winds  weren't  always  the  way  we  would  have  liked 
them;  but,  anyhow,  we  made  Cape  Race  a  week  after  the 
gale,  and  by  the  middle  of  March  we  were  in  the  entrance 
of  Davis  Strait.  Here  we  found  the  ice  altogether  too 
plenty  for  comfort,  so  the  skipper  headed  her  to  the 
southward  and  eastward  for  clear  open  water.  But,  say, 
the  whaling  was  about  the  poorest  I  ever  saw.  We 
cruised  and  cruised  and  cruised,  till  I  thought  the  men 
would  go  crazy  for  the  want  of  something  to  do.  But  at 
lust  the  welcome  cry  of,  'There  blows!' broke  from  the 
must  bead,  and  we  got  our  first  kill,  a  splendid  Greenland 
right  whale. 

"  And  now  the  ice  began  to  break  up  in  the  north,  and 
we  just  had  our  hands  full  dodging  bergs,  and  as  for 
calving — say.  did  you  ever  see  an  iceberg-  calve?  No? 
Well,  it's  a  very  fine  sight  to  see — at  a  good  distance. 
The  warm  water  melts  away  the  under  part  of  the  moun- 
tain of  ice  till  there's  a  great  overhanging  piece,  the  size 
of  one  of  those  big  office  buildings  in  New  York.  First 
thing  you  know  that  breaks  off,  and  falls  into  the  sea  with 
a  roar  like  thunder.  It  raises  a  mountainous  wave  that 
almost  throws  a  ship  on  her  beam  ends,  and  pretty  nigh 
rolls  the  masts  right  out  of  her.  We  were  lying  be- 
calmed less  than  half  a  mile  from  a  monster  berg  when 
it  dropped  off  one  of  those  pieces,  and  I  tell  you  if  we 
hadn't  luckily  been  head  to  the  sea  it  raised,  we'd  have 
been  sent  to  the  bottom  then  and  there.  However,  that 
isn't  exactly  what  I  started  out  to  tell  you. 

"Captain  Joshua  Coffin  was  pretty  well  disgusted  with 
the  kind  of  luck  we'd  been  having — out  now  two  months 
and  only  one  whale — so  he  decided  that  we  must  push 
further  north.  So  away  we  went  right  up  to  Upernavik, 
where  we  put  in  for  a  fresh  supply  of  water  and  some 
fresh  meat.  Now,  that  was  where  the  skipper  made  the 
mistake  of  his  life.  For  when  he'd  got  to  Upernavik 
nothing  would  do  but  he  must  cruise  to  the  northward 
of  that  place  for  whales.  Now,  every  one  knows  that 
Baffin's  Bay,  and  much  less  Smith's  Sound,  is  no  place 
for  whaling.  But  as  luck  would  have  it  we  hadn't  got 
twenty  miles  north  of  Upernavik  when  we  killed  a  whale, 
and  the  Captain  said, 'See  that?  We're  right  in  the 
middle  of  luck  up  here.' 

"We  stood  on  to  the  northward.  Two  or  three  days 
later  we  ran  into  a  dead  flat  calm.  Then  there  set  in 
a  long  unearthly  swell  from  the  southward.  The  ship 
rolled  like  something  mortal  in  a  great  agony.  Her  top- 
masts swayed  and  bent  like  long  whips,  and  the  swinging 
of  her  yards  tilled  the  air  over  our  heads  with  a  horrid 
groaning.  The  sky  turned  a  sort  of  sickly  yellow,  like 
a  heavy  fog  with  sunlight  behind  it,  except  around  the 
horizon,  where  it  had  a  reddish  tinge  as  if  blood  had  been 
spilled.  There  was  not  a  breath  of  air,  and  from  the 
shore  came  echoing  across  the  oily  water  all  kinds  of 
strange  cries  of  birds  and  beasts.  After  a  time  the  air 
filled  with  the  rushing  of  wings,  and,  looking  up,  ve  saw 
thousands  of  birds  flying  around  and  around  over  the 
ship  like  vultures  hovering  over  their  prey.  There  were 
gloomy-tinted  gulls  and  frittering  ptarmigans  and  broad- 
winged,  solemn  albatrosses.  And  now  a  new  noise  arose. 
The  rising  swell  began  to  make  havoc  among  the  loose 
ice  along  the  shores.  Great  pieces  were  tossed  into  the 
air,  and  hurled  together  with  terrific  force,  and  the  crash- 
ing of  them  filled  our  ears  with  a  noise  like  that  of  a 
battle. 

'If  this  keeps  on,' muttered  the  skipper,  'the  ice  to 
the  north'ard  of  us  '11  begin  to  drift  down,  and  then, 
unless  we  get  a  breeze,  we'll  be  in  a  serious  position.' 

"  Well,  sure  enough,  it  wasn't  very  long  before  we  all 
saw  what  looked  like  a  white  vapor  under  the  edges  of 
the  reddish  gloom  along  the  northern  horizon. 

'That's  the  ice.'  said  the  skipper.  'It's  coming 
down.' 


"The  vapor-looking  line  seemed  to  hang  up  there  on 
the  horizon,  but  after  a  time  I  saw  some  white  spots  that 
seemed  to  grow  in  size  and  come  nearer  and  nearer.  As 
they  approached  they  took  on  a  leaping  motion,  and  then 
I  knew  that  they  were  large  pieces  of  ice  tossed  by  the 
swell.  Say,  it  was  a  sort  of  ghastly  sight  to  see  those 
pieces  coming  down  slowly  and  steadily  in  the  teeth  of  a 
swell  that  ought  to  have  driven  them  back.  As  the  first 
piece  drew  near  us  we  discovered  a  lot  of  black  spots  on 
it,  and  we  began  to  hear  a  most  direful  roaring. 

'  'Lord  save  us!'  cried  young  Billy  Butt.      'What  is 
it?' 

"  As  it  drew  nearer  and  nearer  we  saw  that  the  piece 
of  ice  was  covered  with  sea-lions  which  were  lifting  their 
heads,  showing1  their  white  fangs,  and  fairly  shrieking 
at  the  ship  in  their  anger. 

'Well,'  said  Billy,  'if  that  ain't  a  warn  in'  to  git  out 
o'  here,  I  never  seed  one  in  my  life.' 

"  It  was  all  very  well  to  talk  about  warnings  to  get 
out,  but  we  couldn't.  All  day  long  and  all  through  the 
night  this  deathly  calm  prevailed,  and  the  air  was  full  of 
the  crashing  and  grinding  of  the  ice,  the  shrieking  of 
wild  birds,  and  the  demonlike  yelling  of  wild  beasts. 
Just  before  dawn  there  came  a  little  puff  of  wind.  It  was 
from  the  northward. 

'  '  Now,  lads !'  cried  the  Captain,  '  here  comes  the  breeze 
just  where  we  want  it.      Clap  the  cloth  on  her.' 

"We  made  sail  at  once,  and  in  a  few  minutes  had  the 
tops'ls  and  to'gallants  loosed.  But  bless  you!  the  puff 
died  out  and  left  us  rolling  worse  than  ever.  I  tell  you, 
lads,  she  dipped  her  tops'l  yard-arms  into  it.  Suddenly 
we  heard  a  great  moaning  to  the  southward,  as  if  the  great- 
grandfather of  all  seals  was  being  killed.  The  moaning 
grew  into  a  cry  and  the  cry  into  a  scream. 

"  '  Here  it  comes!'  shouted  Billy  Butt;  '  the  Lord  have 
mercy  on  us!' 

"The  next  minute  the  gale  came  howling  out  of  the 
south.  The  America  went  over  on  her  beam  ends  like  a 
man  struck  with  a  club.  For  a  moment  we  thought  it 
was  all  over  with  us,  but  the  stout  canvas  of  the  tops'ls 
and  to'gallants  yielded  to  the  strain.  With  reports  like 
cannon  the  sails  burst  from  their  bolt-ropes,  and  went 
swirling  away  to  leeward.  The  ship  righted,  and  we  set 
to  work  at  once  to  get  a  bit  of  the  spanker  set  to  hold 
her  head  to  the  seas,  which  were  now  something  a"wful 
to  look  'at.  Our  effort  was  successful,  and  we  managed 
to  bring  her  to  011  the  port  tack.  But  that  didn't  ease 
our  minds  any.  We  knew  well  enough  what  was  under 
our  lee.  And  still  large  humps  of  ice  kept  making  their 
way  to  the  southward.  It  was  terrifying  to  see  them 
hurled  away  aloft  on  a  sea  when  we  were  down  in  the 
trough.  They  loomed  over  us  every  now  and  then 
threatening  instant  destruction.  We  were  perfectly  help- 
less, and  could  only  wait  in  silence  to  see  what  would 
happen.  Suddenly  a  loud  cry  burst  from  the  men  who 
were  away  forward,  and  they  rushed  aft  with  frantic 
haste.  A  gigantic  block  of  ice,  weighing  hundreds  of 
tons,  was  poised  on  the  brow  of  a  great  black  sea.  Then 
down  it  came  and  struck  the  vessel  just  beyond  her  knight- 
heads,  breaking  the  bowsprit  short  off,  and  causing  the 
fore-to'gallant  mast  to  go  by  the  board.  At  once  the 
Captain  gave  the  carpenter  orders  to  sound  the  pump 
and  see  if  we  were  taking  in  any  water,  while  a  lot  of  us 
were  set  to  work  to  clear  away  the  wreck  forward.  A 
few  minutes  later  the  carpenter  reported  six  inches  of 
water  in  the  hold,  and  we  were  set  to  work  to  pump  her 
out.  And  now  we  noticed  that  the  ice  no  longer  came 
down  from  the  north,  but,  on  the  contrary,  it  began  to 
come  up  frorn  the  south. 

.'  It's  the  tide,  that's  what  it  is,'  said  the  Captain. 

"  And  then  we  all  realized  that  all  that  had  kept  us 
from  driving  bodily  to  leeward  against  the  mass  of  ice  to 
the  north  was  a  tremendous  ebb  tide.  Now  it  was  run- 


APRIL  23,  18'J5. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


443 


ning  flood,  and  with  tide,  wind,  and  sea  we  were  tearing 
at  an  awful  rate  straight  to  destruction.  Some  of  the 
men  began  to  lose  their  wits.  Some  sang,  some  laughed, 
some  danced,  some  raved  in  the  most  reckless  manner. 
Others  sat  down  on  the  decks  and,  supporting  their  pale 
faces  in  their  hands,  stared  with  vacant  eyes  at  the  reel- 
ing waves. 

"'Come,  lads,  come!'  cried  the  Captain,  'this  won't 
do;  while  there's  life  there's  hope.' 

"Now  some  set  to  work  at  the  pumps  again,  but  it  was 
in  a  half-hearted  manner.  Suddenly  a  terrible  cry  arose 
forward. 

"  'Breakers  on  the  lee  bow!' 

"'With  that  Billy  Butt  just  fell  down  on  the  deck 
senseless.  We  all  saw  the  breakers  clashing  against  the 
ice-pack,  which  was  leaping,  groaning,  grinding,  and 
crashing  with  a  deafening  noise.  I  tell  you,  lads,  it  was 
a  sight  to  make  the  boldest  lose  heart.  At  that  instant 
a  wild  flurry  of  snow  broke  loose,  and  it  seemed  as  if  a 
ghostly  curtain  of  white  had  been  let  down  between  us 
and  our  doom.  But  that  only  made  it  more  terrible,  for 
we  could  not  see  it,  but  we  could  hear  the  dreadful  grind- 
ing of  the  ice.  There  was  no  way  known  to  a  sailor  of 
checking  the  frightful  drift  of  the  vessel. 

'  We  must  be   pretty  close  to   it!' I   shouted,  for  you 
had  to  shout  in  that  din. 

"Yes,"  the  Captain  shouted  back;  'and  when  we 
strike,  good-by  to  us  all.' 

"It  seemed  an  hour,  yet  it  could  not  have  been  more 
than  a  minute,  before  the  ship  was  swung  thirty  feet  high 
upon  a  mountainous  wave,  and  hurled  bodily  down  upon 
the  ice-pack  with  a  heartrending  crash.  Every  man  of 
us  was  thrown  down,  and  some  were  badly  hurt.  The 
fact  is,  the  ship  had  struck  squarely  on  her  bottom  on  top 
of  the  ice,  and  the  next  moment  the  cakes  separated  and 
let  her  down  between  them.  Then  they  came  toward 
one  another,  squeezing  her  between  them.  Say,  lads,  I 
never  want  to  hear  anything  again  like  the  rending  and 
crashing  of  her  sides.  It  sounded  as  if  she  were  a  big 
human  thing  in  awful  agony.  If  the  crew  had  been  de- 
prived of  their  wits  before,  they  went  quite  mad  now. 
Billy  Butt  came  to,  grabbed  a  life-preserver,  and  jumped 
overboard.  Of  course  he  was  never  seen  again.  The 
Captain  he  called  to  the  two  or  three  of  us  who  still  had 
some  control  of  our  senses,  and  told  us  to  jump  below  and 
get  any  provisions  we  could  lay  hands  on.  Of  course 
we  didn't  waste  much  time  at  it,  for  we  didn't  know  at 
what  moment  the  ice  might  open  and  let  go  of  the  Amer- 
ica, and  we  knew  that  when  it  did  she  would  go  to  the 
bottom.  In  a  few  seconds  we  were  back  on  deck  with  a 
small  stock  of  food  and  some  condensed  coffee.  The 
Captain  slung  a  line  over  the  side,  and,  climbing  down, 
bade  us  follow.  We  did  so  with  great  haste,  for  we  could 
feel  the  ship  beginning  to  heave  again.  We  went  down 
away  forward,  and  even  then  we  were  almost  swept  away 
by  the  wash  of  a  big  sea  that  broke  upon  the  ice.  For- 
tunately the  snow  stopped,  it  had  been  only  a  squall,  and 
we  were  able  to  see  where  we  were  going.  We  pushed 
further  inland,  or  in-ice,  and  we  hadn't  gone  two  hun- 
dred yards  before  the  cakes  separated,  and  we  heard  a 
few  screams  as  the  America  went  down  bodily  and  the 
loose  ice  closed  over  her. 

"  We  camped  out  on  the  heaving  ice  that  night,  but,  of 
course,  no  one  went  to  sleep.  The  gale  broke,  however, 
and  we  had  some  comfort  in  our  misery.  It  was  sum- 
mer, you  know,  so  there  wasn't  much  night  to  speak  of, 
and  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  we  began  to  take 
counsel  among  ourselves  as  to  what  we  should  do.  But 
our  debate  was  cut  short  by  several  terrific  reports,  like 
the  firing1  of  heavy  cannon. 

"  '  Why,  the  ice  is  cracking!'  exclaimed  the  Captain. 

"Sure  enough,  it  seemed  that  the  ebb  tide  had  set  in 
again,  and  that  the  ice  along  the  edges  of  the  pack  was 


breaking  off  and  starting  southward.  We  started  up 
and  moved  forward,  but  we  were  too  late.  The  piece 
on  which  we  were  had  already  begun  to  float  down,  and 
we  found  it  was  surrounded  by  an  impassable  channel. 
And  now  comes  the  strangest  part  of  my  story.  This 
particular  cake  of  ice,  which  was  about  fifty  yards  square, 
got  out  of  the  tidal  current  and  into  an  eddy  which  kept 
it  in  one  place,  while  the  tide  was  running  flood  again. 
When  the  ebb  returned  it  moved  off  slowly,  and  after 
that  it  continued  to  make  a  little  steady  progress  south- 
ward. 

'We've  got  into  the  regular  current,'  said  the  Cap- 
tain ;  '  the  same  one  that  carries  the  big  bergs  down  into 
the  path  of  the  transatlantic  steamers.  There's  jiope  for 
us  now,  if  we  don't  starve.' 

"  Well,  it  didn't  look  so  very  encouraging,  for  we  had 
only  food  enough  for  about  a  week.  And  for  a  week  we 
drifted  and  drifted  on  that  cake  of  ice.  The  supply  of 
food  began  to  get  short.  Hank  Moore,  one  of  our  party, 
began  to  talk  sort  of  wild,  and  we  were  afraid  he  w;is 
going  to  go  crazy.  Next  day  the  Captain  fell  sick,  and 
refused  to  eat  the  little  bit  of  a  share  of  food  we  had  for 
him.  Day  after  that  the  other  two  fellows  gave  up  hope, 
and  stretched  themselves  on  their  backs  to  wait  for  the 
end.  I  don't  know  what  was  the  reason  of  it,  but  I 
couldn't  make  up  my  mind  that  we  were  going  to  perish, 
so  I  kept  on  my  feet,  and  walked  up  and  down,  all  the 
time  watching  the  horizon  for  a  sign  of  land  or  a  sail. 
Twenty-four  hours  passed  without  food,  and  I  began  to 
feel  weak  and  dizzy.  All  of  a  sudden  I  saw  a  ship.  I 
made  up  my  mind  I  was  crazy,  for  I  hadn't  seen  a  sign  of 
a  sail.  But  the  next  minute  I  saw  that  she  had  just 
come  out  from  behind  a  berg  which  had  concealed  her. 
Then  I  gave  a  great  jump,  and  called  out  as  loudly  as  I 
could,  '  Sail  ho!' 

"The  poor  fellows  lying  on  the  ice  looked  at  me  and 
smiled  with  pity,  for  they  thought  I  had  lost  my  senses. 
But  I  leaped  about  and  waved  my  hands,  hoping  thus  to 
attract  attention  aboard  the  ship,  which  was  not  more 
than  a  mile  and  a  half  away.  The  next  instant  I  saw 
her  swing  her  foreyard  and  alter  her  course. 

"  'Hurrah  !'  I  yelled;   '  we're  saved.' 

"Then  I  fell  in  a  swoon.  When  I  came  to  we  were 
all  aboard  the  whaler  Andrew  Jackson,  homeward  bound. 
And  that  was  the  end  of  all  the  arctic  experience  I  ever 
want." 


THE  WEARY  WOODEN   SOLDIER. 

BY  THKO  BERNARD. 

MY  wooden  head  is  cracked  across, 
I've  lost  my  youthful  charms; 
I've  lost,  alack,  one  wooden  leg, 
And  both  my  wooden,  arms. 

Full  many  a  light  have  I  be.en  in 
"f \vixt  Fred  aucl  brother  Hugh; 

I've  been   officer  and  private 
(I've  been  ammunition,  too). 

I've  been  used  to  poke  the  fire  with; 

I've  been  (lipped  into  the  ink  ; 
And  I've  made  a  perilous  journey 

Adowu  the  kitchen   sink. 

I've  been  drowned,  and  I've  lircn   married: 

I've  been   buried,  and  dug  up; 
I've   been  "worried"  round  the  garden 

By  that  seven  months'  old  pup. 

In  short,  this  mortal  life  is  such 

That,  though  I'm  truly   bravi-. 
I  long,  with  all  my  wooden  heart. 

For  just  a  (piiet  grave. 


444 


HAptPEB'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


ukwo. 


m 


AUTHOR  OF 


BY    WILLIAM    HAMILTON    GIBSON, 

'HIGHWAYS  AND  P.TWAYS."  "SiiAr.r  EYES,"  "PASTELS  AND 
PKOSK."  ETC. 


TiHE  dusty  puff- ball,  floating;  its  faint,  trail  of  smoke  in 
the  breeze  from  the  ragged  flue  at  its  dome-shaped 
roof  as  from  an  elfin  tepee,  or  perhaps  enveloping  our 
feet  in  its  dense  purple  cloud  as  we  chance  to  step  upon 
it  in  the  path,  is  familiar  to  every  one — always  enthu- 
siastically welcomed  by  the  small  boy,  to  whom  it  is 
always  a  challenge  for  a  kick,  and  a  consequent  demon- 
stration of  smoke  worthy  of  a  Fourth -of-July  celebra- 
tion. 

A  week  ago  this  glistening  gray  bag,  so  free  with  its 
dust-puff  at  the  slightest  touch,  was  solid  in  substance 
and  as  white  as  cottage  cheese  in  the  fracture. 

But  in  a  later  stage  this  clear  white  fracture  would 
have  appeared  speckled  or  peppered  with  gray  spots,  and 
the  next  day  entirely  gray  and  much  softened,  and,  later 
again,  brown  and  apparently  in  a  state  of  decay.  But 
this  is  not  decay.  This  moist  brown  mass 
becomes  powdery  by  evaporation,  and  the 
puff-ball  is  now  ripe,  and  intent  only  on  pos 
terity. 

Each  successive  squeeze  as  we  hold  it  be- 
tween our  fingers  yields  its  generous  re- 
sponse in  a  puff  of  brown  smoke,  which 
melts  away  apparently  into  air.  But  the 
puff-ball  does  not  end  in  mere  smoke.  This 
vanishing  purple  cloud  is  composed  of  tiny 
atoms,  so  extremely  minute  as  to  require 
the  aid  of  a  powerful  microscope  to  reveal 
their  shapes.  Each  one  of  these  atoms,  so 
immaterial  and  buoyant  as  to  be  almost 
without  gravity,  floating  away  upon  the 
slightest  breath,  or  even  wafted  upward  by 
currents  of  warm  air  from  the  heated  earth, 
has  within  itself  the  power  of  reproducing 
another  clump  of  puff-balls  if  only  fortune 
shall  finally  lodge  it  in  congenial  soil. 
These  spores  are  thus  analogous  to  the 
seeds  of  ordinary  plants.  We  have  seen 
the  myriad-fold  dispersion  of  its  poten- 


tial atoms  in  the  cloud  of  spore -smoke  from  the  puff- 
ball,  but  who  ever  thinks'of  a  spore-cloud  from  a  mush- 
room or  a  toadstool?  ,Yet  the  same  method  is  followed 
by  all  the  other  fungi,  but  with  less  conspicuousness. 
Tin1  puff-ball  gives  a  visible  salute,  but  any  one  of  the 
common  mushrooms  or  toadstools  will  afford  us  a  much 
prettier  and  more  surprising  account  of  itself  if  we  but  give 
it  the  opportunity.  This  big  yellow  toadstool  out  under 
the  poplar-tree,  .its  golden  cap  studded  with  brownish 
scurfy  warts,  its  under  surface  beset  with  closely  plaited 
laminae  or  gills,  who  could  ever  associate  the  cloud  of 
dry  smoke  with  this  moist,  creamy-white  surface?  We 
may  sit  here  all  day  and  watch  it  closely,  but  we  shall  see 
110  sign  of  anything  resembling  smoke  or  dust.  But  even 
so,  a  filmy  mist  is  continually  floating  away  from  beneath 
its  golden  cap,  the  eager  breeze  taking  such  jealous  care 
of  the  continual  shower  that  our  eyes  fail  to  perceive  a 
hint  of  it. 

Do  you  doubt  it?  You  need  wait  but  a  few  moments 
for  a  proof  of  the  fact  in  a  pretty  experiment, 
which,  when  once  observed,  will  certainly  be 
resorted  to  as  a  frequent  pastime  in  leisure  mo- 
ments when  the  toadstool  or  mushroom  is  at 
hand. 

Here  is  a  very  ordinary- looking  specimen 
growing  beside  the  stone  steps  at  our  back  door 
perhaps.  Its  top  is  gray;  its  gills  beneath  are 
fawn-color.  We  may  shake  it  as  rudely  as  we 
will,  and  yet  we  shall  get  no  response  such  as 
the  puff-ball  will  give  us.  But  let  us  lay  it  upon 
a  piece  of-  while  paper,  gills  downward,  on  ihe 
mantel,  and  cover  it  with  a  tumbler  or  finger- 
bowl,  so  as  to  absolutely  exclude  the  least  ad- 
mission of  air.  At  the  expiration  of  five  min- 
utes, perhaps,  we  may  detect  a  filmy  pinkish  -  yellow 
tint  on  the  paper,  following  beneath  the  upraised 
border  of  the  cap,  like  a  shadow  faintly  lined  with 
white.  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  tinted  deposit 
is  perceptible  across  the  room ;  and  in  an  hour,  if 
we  carefully  raise  the  mushroom,  the  perfect  spore- 
print  is  revealed  in  all  its  beauty— a  pink-brown  disk 
with  a  white  centre,  which  represents  the  point  of  contact 
of  the  cut  stem,  and  white  radiating  lines,  representing 
the  edges  of  the  thin  gills,  many  of  them  as  fine  and  deli- 
cate as  a  cobweb. 

Every  fresh  species  will  yield  its  surprise  in  the  mark- 
ings and  color  of  the  prints. 

These  spore-deposits  are  of  course  fugitive,  and  will 
easily  rub  off  at  the  slightest  touch.  But  inasmuch  as 
many  of  these  specimens,  either  from  their  beauty  of 


SPORE  SURFACE  OF  A  POLYPORUS. 


SPORE  SURFACE  OF  A  POLTGARIC. 


AP1UL  23,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


445 


METHOD    OF   MAKING    SPORE-PRINTS. 


form  or  exquisite 
color,  or  for  edu- 
cational or  scien- 
tific purposes,  it 
will  be  desirable 
to  preserve,  I  ap- 
pend simple  rules 

for  the  making  of  the  prints  by  a  process  by  which 
they  will  become  effectually  "  fixed, "and  thus  easily  kept 
without  injury. 

DIRECTIONS  FOB   MAKING    A    MUSHROOM    SPORE-PRINT. 

Take  a  piece  of  smooth  white  writing-paper  and  coat 
its  surface  evenly  with  a  thin  solution  of  gum-arabic,  dex- 
trine, or  other  mucilage,  and  allow  it  to  dry.  Pin  this, 
gummed  side  uppermost,  to  a  board  or  table,  preferably 
over  a  soft  cloth,  so  that  it  will  lie  perfectly  flat.  To  in- 
sure a  good  print  the  mushroom  specimen  should  be  fresh 
and  firm,  and  the  gills  or  spore-surface  free  from  breaks 
or  bruises. 

Cut  the  stem  off  about  level  with  the  gills,  then 
lay  the  mushroom,  spore -surface  downward,  upon  the 
paper,  and  cover  with  a  tumbler,  finger-bowl,  or  other 
vessel  with  a  smooth  even  rim,  to  absolutely  exclude  the 
slightest  ingress  of  air. 

After  a  few  hours  have  passed  by,  perhaps  even  less, 
the  spores  will  be  seen  through  the  glass  on  the  paper 
at  the  extreme  edge  of  the  mushroom,  their  depth  of  color 
indicating  the  density  of  the  deposit.  If  we  now  gently 
lift  the  glass,  and  with  the  utmost  care  remove  the  fungus, 
perhaps  by  the  aid  of  pins  previously  inserted,  in  a  per- 
fectly vertical  direction,  without  the  slightest  side  motion, 
the  spore-print  in  all  its  beauty  will  be  revealed — per- 
haps a  rich  brown  circular  patch  with  exquisite  radiating 
white  lines,  marking  the  direction  and  edges  of  the  gills, 
if  an  Agaric  ;  perhaps  a  delicate  pink,  more  or  less 
clouded  disk,  here  and  there  distinctly  and  finely  honey- 
combed with  white  lines,  indicating  that  our  specimen 
is  one  of  the  polypores,,  as  a  Boletus.  Other  prints 
will  yield  rich  golden  disks,  and  there  will  be  prints  of 
red,  lilac,  greens,  oranges,  salmon-pinks,  and  browns  and 
purples,  variously  lined  in  accordance  with  the  number 
and  nature  of  the  gills  or  pores.  Occasionally  we  shall 
look  in  vain  for  our  print,  which  may  signify  that  our 
specimen  had  already  scattered  its  spores  ere  we  had 


found  it,  or,  what  is  more  likely,  that  the 
spores  are  invisible  upon  the  paper,  owing 
to  their  whiteness,  in  which  case  a  piece  of 
black  paper  must  be  substituted  for  the  white 
ground,  when  the  response  will  be  beatitiful- 
-  ly  manifest  in  a  white  tracery  upon  the  black 
background.  One  of  these,  from  the  Amanita 
muscarius,  is  reproduced  in  our  illustration.  If 
the  specimen  is  left  too  long,  the  spore-deposit 
is  continued  upward  between  the  gills,  and  may 
reach  a  quarter  of  an  inch  in  height,  in  which 
case,  if  extreme  care  in  lifting  the  cap  is  used, 
we  observe  a  very  realistic  counterfeit  of  the 
gills  of  the  mushroom  in  high  relief  upon  the  pa- 
per. A  print  of  this  kind  is  of  course  very 
fragile,  and  must  be  handled  with  care.  But  a 
comparatively  slight  deposit  of  the  spores,  with- 
out apparent  thickness,  will  give  us  the  most  per- 
fect print,  while  at  the  same  time  yielding  the 
full  color.  Such  a  print  may  also  be  fixed  by 
our  present  method  so  as  to  withstand  consider- 
able rough  handling,  all  that  is  required  being 
to  lay  the  print  upon  a  wet  towel  until  the 
moisture  has  penetrated  through  the  paper  and 
reached  the  gum.  The  spores  are  thus  set,  and, 
upon  drying  the  paper,  are  quite  securely  iix- 
ed.  Indeed,  the  moisture  often  exuded  by  the 
confined  fungus  beneath  the  glass  proves  sufficient  to 
dampen  the  mucilage  and  set  the  spores. 

A  number  of  prints  may  be  obtained  from  a  single 
specimen. 

To  those  of  my  readers  interested  in  the  science  of  this 
spore-shower  I  give  sectional  illustrations  of  examples  of 
the  two  more  common  groups  of  mushrooms — the  Agaric, 
or  gilled  mushroom,  and  the  Polyporus,  or  tube-bearing 
mushroom.  The  entire  surface  of  both  gills  and  pores  is 
lined  with  the  spore-bearing  membrane,  or  hymenium, 
the  spores  falling  directly  benealh  their  point  of  de- 
parture as  indicated;  in  the  case  of  the  Agaric,  in  radi- 


SrORE-PHINT    OP    A    BOLETUS 


ating  lines  in  correspondence  with  the  spaces  between  the 
gills,  and  in  Polyporus  in  a  tiny  pile  directly  beneath  the 
opening  of  each  pore. 


446 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME    XVI. 


JOSHUA  BARNEY,  U.  S.  N. 

records  of  the  United  States  navy  show  no  more 
dashing  officer  than  Joshua  Barney.  The  life  of  this 
celebrated  naval  hero  reads  like  a  romance,  and  if  it  were 
not  that  the  particulars  of  his  youthful  career  are  to  be 
found  in  the  most  authentic  journals,  one  would  be  justi- 
fied in  refusing  to  accept  the  sensational  accounts  of  his 
exploits.  The  known  details  of  his  startling  and  event- 
ful history  belong  not  only  to  this  country,  but  to  nations 
across  the  sea.  He  was  born  in  Baltimore,  Maryland,  in 
1759.  At  the  age  of  twelve  years  lie  left  school  and  went 
to  sea  as  an  apprentice  with  his  brother-in-law,  who  com- 
manded a  vessel  in  the  Liverpool  trade.  Two  yeai-s  later 
Barney  was  promoted  to  second  mate,  and  when  fifteen 
and  a  half  years  of  age  was  given  command  of  the  vessel 
in  which  he  had  shipped  less  than  four  years  before  as 
cabin  boy.  He  made  a  voyage  to  Italy  as  master  mari- 
ner, and  upon  his  return  to  Baltimore  learned  that  a 
revolution  had  begun  against  the  parent  country.  At 
once  surrendering  the  command  of  his  ship,  he  made  an 
offer  of  his  services  to  the  colonies,  and  was  appointed  a 
master's  mate  in  the  young  navy.  Ordered  to  the  sloop 
Hornet,  lie  joined  the  squadron  of  Commodore  Hopkins, 
which  sailed  to  the  Bahamas  and  captured  New  Provi- 
dence. 

Upon  his  return  a  few  weeks  later,  being  then  only 
sixteen  years  of  age,  he  received  a  lieutenant's  commis- 
sion, and  served  as  executive  officer  of  the  Andrew  Doria 
when  she  captured  the  British  man-of-war  Racehorse, 
after  which  he  was  ordered  to  the  frigate  Virginia  as 
first  lieutenant. 

This  unfortunate  ship  ran  aground  at  the  entrance  of 
the  Chesapeake,  while  attempting  to  get  to  sea  through 
the  English  blockading  fleet,  and  although  everything 
was  done  by  the  crew  to  get  her  afloat,  even  while  the 
enemy's  vessels  were  pouring  a  murderous  fire  into  them, 
they  were  at  length  compelled  to  surrender  to  the  St. 
Albans  frigate,  and  with  five  hundred  other  prisoners 
were  sent  to  New  York,  where  they  were  confined  in  one 
of  the  prison  ships.  While  on  the  passage  Barney  formed 
a  plan  to  capture  the  vessel  by  a  general  uprising,  and 
would  have  succeeded  in  his  daring  scheme  had  it  not 
been  betrayed  by  one  of  their  own  number,  a  renegade 
Frenchman. 

Our  hero  was  quickhy  exchanged,  and  went  to  sea  again 
second  in  command  of  the  United  States  sloop  of  war 
Saratoga  of  sixteen  guns.  A  few  days  after  sailing,  an 
English  cruiser,  mounting  twelve  heavy  guns,  was  cap- 
tured in  an  action  lasting  only  twelve  minutes.  The  next 
morning  a  thirty-two  gun  frigate  and  two  brigs  of  war 
were  discovered  cruising  in  company.  The  Saratoga 
was  laid  alongside  the  frigate,  which  was  carried  by 
boarding:  after  which  the  two  brigs  were  quickly  forced 
to  surrender. 

Lieutenant  Barney  was  sent  on  board  of  the  frigate  as 
prize-master,  and  accompanied  by  the  Saratoga  and  the 
•other  three  prizes  shaped  the  course  for  Baltimore.  A 
thick  fog  shut  in  during  the  day.  When  it  rolled. a way 
with  the  rising  of  the  sun  on  the  following  morning,  the 
little  squadron  was  found  to  be  surrounded  by  the  Eng- 
lish admiral's  ship  of  seventy-four  guns  and  a  number  of 
powerful  frigates.  Although  an  obstinate  resistance  was 
made,  the  three  prize  brigs  were  recaptured,  and  the 
Saratoga  only  escaped  a  like  fate  by  outsailing  the  ves- 
sels in  her  vicinity. 

While  Barney  continued  to  fight  his  ship  with  the 
slender  prize  crew  that  he  commanded,  the  prisoners 
came  rushing  up  from  below,  with  the  idea  of  retaking 
their  vessel,  but  the  boy  captain  shot  the  foremost,  and 
drove  the  remainder  to  the  guns,  compelling  them  at  the 
point  of  the  pistol  to  work  the  battery  against  their  own 
This  desperate  valor  prolonged  the  fight  for  a 


short  time,  but  being  so  crippled  that  he  could  not  ma- 
noeuvre liis  vessel,  Barney  was  taken  prisoner  by  a  strong 
boarding  party,  and  sent  to  England,  where  he  was  con- 
fined in  Mill  Prison. 

One  day  while  on  the  voyage  across  the  Atlantic,  Bar- 
ney was  taking  his  allotted  exercise  up  and  down  the 
spar  deck.  One  of  the  English  officers  in  passing  ad- 
dressed an  insulting  remark  to  the  prisoner,  who' respond- 
ed in  language  equally  impolite.  At  this  the  frigate's 
officer  became  so  enraged  that  he  struck  Barney  across 
the  mouth,  and  the  following  moment  received  two  or 
•  three  disfiguring  cuffs  from  the  hardy  fists  of  the  Ameri- 
can, who  added  insult  to  injury  by  kicking  the  English- 
man down  a  hatchway.  Smarting  under  this  mortifying 
treatment,  the  British  officer  asked  that  the  offender 
might  be  adequately  punished  for  "  outraging  his  Maj- 
esty's uniform."  To  the  everlasting  honor  of  the  Capluin, 
he  stigmatized  the  conduct  exhibited  towards  a  helpless 
prisoner  as  cowardly  and  disgraceful,  and  ordered  his 
officer  to  make  an  immediate  apology  to  Lieutenant 
Barney. 

Bolts  and  bars  could  not  hold  this  daring  youth,  and 
lie  soon  escaped  from  prison  and  made  his  way  back  to 
America.  Congress  at  once  commissioned  him  a  full 
captain  in  the  navy,  and  gave  him  command  of  the  Hyder 
Ali,  in  which  he  sailed  from  Philadelphia.  The  follow- 
ing week  he  fell  in  with  the  English  man-of-war  General 
Monk,  of  twenty  guns  and  136  men,  representing  nearly 
double  the  metal  and  force  under  Barney's  command. 
In  twenty-six  minutes  from  the  time  the  first  gun  was 
fired  the  British  flag  came  down. 

In  recognition  of  this  service  Congress  promoted  him 
to  the  rank  of  Commodore,  and  the  State  of  Pennsylvania 
presented  to  the  hero  a  gold-hilted  sword.  After  perform- 
ing a  secret  mission  to  the  West  Indies,  he  was  sent  to 
France  as  the  bearer  of  despatches  to  Dr.  Franklin,  and 
when  the  preliminary  treaty  of  peace  with  England  was 
signed,  Commodore  Barney,  then  twenty-three  years  of 
age,  was  appointed  to  deliver  it  to  Congress. 


OFF    WITH    THE    MERBOY. 

BY  JOHN  KENDRICK   BANGS. 
CH  APTE  U  I. 

IT  was  a  strange  thing  for  the  goldfish  to  do,  but  the  goldfish 
did  it,  nevertheless.     He  winked  at  Jimmieboy,  and  asked 
him  if  he  owned  a  bathing-suit. 

"Yes,  I  do  own  a  bathing-suit,"  Jimmieboy  replied,  as  soon  as 
he  had  recovered  from  his  astonishment  that  the  goldfish 
should  speak  to  him.  "  I  own  two  bathing-suits — a  red  one  and 
a  blue  one." 

"You  are  a,  very  fortunate  boy,"  said  the  goldfish.  "Two 
whole  bathing-suits!  Dear  me,  what  richness!  Do  you  tiud 
that  two  fit  yon  better  than  one?" 

"  I  don't  know  what  yon  mean, "said  Jimmieboy. 

"You  must  he  feeling  a  little  dull,"  retorted  the  fish.  "  It  is 
plain  enough,  I  think,  that  if  one  bathing-suit  h'ts  you  well,  and 
another  bathing-suit  tits  you  well,  the  two  together  ought  to 
fit  you  twice  as  well.  Do  they  ?" 

•  "I  can't  tell,"  said  Jimmieboy.     "I  never  had  a  chance  to 
find  out." 

"Then  you  never  wore  'em  both  at  once?"  asked  the  gold- 
fish. 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Jiinmiehoy,  with  a  laugh  at  the  absurd- 
ity of  the  idea.  "  Why  should  I  f" 

"  You'll  have  to  ask  me  an  easier  one,"  returned  the  goldfish. 
"I'm  sure  I  don't  know  why  you  should;  but  then  there's  no- 
thing very  strauge  about  that,  for  there  are  a  number  of  things 
thai.  I  don't  know. 

"I  never  knew  why  blackberries 

Are  green  when  they  are  red. 
I  never  understood  how  se«s 
Could  rest  so  calmly  at  their  ease 

With  so  much  sand  in  bed. 


APKIL  23,  1895. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


447 


"I  never  knew  what  use  are  horns 

To  mooly  cows  and  goats. 
I  don't  know   whv  the  rose  has  thorns, 
Or  why  the  sailor  bold  so  scorns 
Sucli  craft  as  gravy-boats. 

"  Indeed,  I  cannot  well  deny 

That  there  are,  on  the  land 
As  well  as  on  the  seas,  things  I, 
No  matter  hmv  much  I  may  try, 

Could  never  understand." 

"I'm  kind  of  tbat  way  myself,"  said  Jimmieboy,  leaning  over 
the  side  of  the  aquarium  and  gazing  down  into  the  cool  watery 
rest  ing-place  of  the  goldfish.  "  And  the  worst  part;  of  it  is  that. 
my  father,  who  knows  most  things — or  used  to  did — is  getting 
forgetful,  and  can't  tell  me  half  what  I  want  to  know.  I  was 
wondering  tlue  other  day  if  beds  creaked  at  night  because  they 
were  tired  of  never  lying  down,  and  he  said  he  guessed  so.  I 
could  have  guessed  so  myself." 

"That  was  just  his  way  of  nutting  yon  off,"  said  the  goldfish. 

"  Well,  he  puts  me  off  a  great  deal  nowadays,"  said  .Tiinmie- 
boy,  sadly,  "  though  there  was  a  time  when  he  could  explain 
everything.  Why,  he  couldn't  even  tell  me  last  night  if  win- 
dows looked  out  of  themselves;  and  when  I  asked  him  what 
part  of  the  ocean  you  came  from  he  told  me  flat  as  could  be  that 
lie  didn't  know." 

"  He  ought  to  have  known  that."  said  the  goldfish.  "  I  didn't 
come  from  any  part  of  it.  I  was  born  in  a  gold-mine." 

"Ever  been  in  the  ocean  ?"  asked  Jitmnifbov,  eagerly. 

"  Yes,  several  times.  My  uncle,  the  sword-fish,  lives  there, 
and  I've  had  plenty  of  invitations  to  go.  I  don't  accept  very 
often,  though,"  said  the  fish. 

"Why  not?"  asked  Jimmiehoy. 

"I  don't  care  about  going  alone,  for  one  reason,"  said  the 
goldfish  ;  "and  then  I  haven't  a  bathing-suit,  for  another,  so  I 
can't.  I  don't  want  to  go  into  the  ocean  in  these  clothes  I  have 
on.  I'd  get  'em  wet,  you  know." 

"Ho!"  ejaculated  Jimmieboy,  with  a  smile  of  amusement. 
"You're  pretty  well  soaked  through  now." 

"No,  I'm  not,"  snapped  the  goldfish.  "This  place  isn't  wet — 
that  is,  it  isn't  anything  like  as  wet  as  the  ocean.  How  could  it 
be  ?  The  ocean  is  several  miles  bigger  than  this,  and  of  course 
is  just  so  much  wetter." 

"  Why,"  said  Jimmieboy,  in  amazement,  "is  a  pail  of  water 
any  wetter  than  a  drop  of  water?" 

"Why  not?"  asked  the  goldfish.  "Try  it,  and  see.  Get  a 
drop  of  water  anil  spill  it  on  the  floor,  and  then  get  a  pailful 
and  spill  it  on  another  floor,  and  then  see  which  floor  is  the 
wettest.  You  think  you  are  a  white  hoy,  but  yon  are  not. 
You're  the  greenest  boy  I  know,  and  I've  half  a  mind  not  to 
borrow  your  extra  bathing-suit." 

"I'm  only  alittle  boy, "said  Jimmieboy,  apologetically,  "and 
of  course  there  are  lots  of  things  I've  got  to  learn,  so  don't  be 
cross  with  me." 

"All  right,"  said  the  fish,  good-naturedly,  "I  won't;  and  I'll 
borrow  your  bathing-suit  to  wear  when  I  visit  my  uncle  in  the 
nrfaii,  if  you'll  lend  it  to  me." 

"  I'll  let  you  have  it,"  said  Jimmieboy.     "  That  is,  I  will  if — 

Here  he  hesitated.  The  idea  had  just  entered  his  head  that 
he'd  rather  like  to  go  off  with  the  goldfish  on  his  visit.  The 
ocean  had  always  possessed  a  great  charm  for  him.  and  often 
when  he  was  at  the  sea-shore  he  wondered  what  it  was  like 
down  underneath  the  surging  waters.  His  papa  had  tried  to 
tell  him  all  about  it,  but  when  pressed  to  say  if  he  really  knew 
that  what  he  was  saying  was  true  or  only  story-telling,  he  had 
admitted  that  it  was  only  story-telling,  because  he  had  never 
been  under  the  sea  himself. 

"If  what?"  asked  the  goldfish,  eying  Jimmieboy  closely. 
"  You  don't  want  me  to  chip  off  one  of 'my  gold  scales  to  pay  you 
for  the  suit,  do  you  1  If  yon  do,  you  might  as  well  stop  wanting 
that  at  once,  for  I  shall  never  do  it.  It  would  be  extravagance 
to  pay  gold  for  a  thing  I  could  get  down  on  the  sea-coast  for* 
silver'." 

"No,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "I  don't  want  any  pay — I  only 
thought  perhaps  I'd  like  to  go  with  yon,  and  I  was  going  to  say 
that  if  yon  would  take  me  along  I'd  let  you  have  the  suit." 

"That  would  be  fine,"  said  the  goldfish,  smiling  so  broadly 
that  Jimmieboy  expected  to  see  all  the  water  in  the  aquarium 
disappear  down  his  throat.  "You  know  I  said  I  didn't  want  to 
go  alone.  It  always  makes  me  blue  to  go  alone,  and  when  I 
get  blue  it's  very  dangerous  for  me." 

"  Why  so?"  queried  Jimmieboy. 


"Why?  Because,"  said  the  goldfish  —  "because  your  papa 
would  have  me  baked  for  Sunday  breakfast  the  minute  I  turned 
into  a  blucfish.  People  eat  bluefish,  but  never  touch  goldfish 
See  I" 

"  Yes,"  Jimmieboy  answered.  "  I  remember  now.  It  was  only 
vrsl.-rday  papa  told  my  mamma  why  didn't  she  have  some 
baked  bluefish  for  breakfast,  because  that  was  what  he  was 
hungry  for." 

The  goldfish  shuddered. 

"  I'm  glad  you  told  me,"  he  said.  "I've  been  feeling  a  little 
blue  lately,  and  I  mustn't  give  way  to  it,  or  perhaps  I'll  be  baked 
yet."  Here  he  paused,  and  thought  deeply  for  a  minute,  and 
then  his  face  brightened  upas  he  said:  "But  I  won't  be  blue 
while  you  are  with  me,  Jimmieboy,  so  trot  out  the  bathing-suits 
and  let's  have  a  look  at  'em.  If  they  are  all  right  we  cau  start 
along  at  once." 

So  Jimmieboy.  rushed  to  the  attic,  where  his  bathing-suits 
were  packed  away  until  it  should  come  time  for  him  and  his 
father  and  mother  and  brothers  to  go  to  the  sea-shore  again, 
and  after  rummaging  about  in  the  trunks  for  some  time  he  final- 
ly found  what  he  wanted. 

"  Here  they  are!"  he  cried,  breathlessly  ;  for  he  was  very  much 
excited  as  he  thought  over  the  prospect  of  the  trip  beneath  the 
water.  "They're  in  first-class  shape." 

"I  hope  they  haven't  any  holes  in  'em  anywhere,"  said  the 
goldfish,  anxiously.  "It  would  be  horrible  if  after  ne  got  out 
into  the  middle  of  the  ocean  we  found  that  our  suits  leaked." 

Jimmieboy  gazed  searchingly  into  the  eyes  of  the  goldfish  for 
nearly  a  minute  to  see  if  he  were  not  joking  when  he  spoke 
about  leaks  in  bathing-suits — it  seemed  such  a  very  droll  idea — 
but  the  curious  creature  gave  no  sigu  of  being  anything  else 
than  serious. 

"  Never  heard  of  leaks  in  bathing-suits,"  said  Jimmieboy. 

"I  guess  yon  never  heard  of  a  great  many  things,"  retorted 
the  goldfish.  "But  that  doesn't  prove  anything.  Of  course  it's 
a  bad  thing  to  have  a  leak  in  a  bathing-suit.  The  water'd  get 
right  in  on  you  if  it  had  a  leak  in  it;  and  what  would  be  even 
more  dangerous,  you  might.  leak  through,  yourself.  Suppose  you 
were  in  swimming  and  your  arm  should  leak  through  a  hole  you 
had  forgotten  to  sew  up,  where  would  yon  be?" 

"I  haven't  an  idea, "said  Jimmieboy. 

"  Yon'd  be  in  the  water,  that's  where,  and  one  arm  gone," 
snapped  the  fish. 

"  I  don't  quite  see,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "  Where  would  the  arm 
be  gone  to?" 

"Through  the  hole  in  your  bathing-suit,  of  course,"  said  the 
fish:  "and  then — well,  I  hesitate  to  think  what  would  become 
of  yon  then.  But  a  boy  in  swimming  with  only  one  arm  hasn't 
much  chance,  unless  it's  low  tide  and  he  has  a  rope  about  his 
waist." 

"Well,  anyhow,"  said  Jimmieboy,  inspecting  the  bathing- 
suits  very  carefully, "  nothing  cau  happen  to  us  that  way,  be- 
rausr  there  isn't  a  leak  in  cither  of  these  suits.  Which  '11  you 
have,  the  blue  or  the  red  ?" 

"  Which  is  the  larger  of  the  two  ?"  asked  the  goldfish.  "  I'll 
have  whichever  one  is  the  larger." 

"Humph!"  said  Jimmieboy.  "Why  do  yon  do  that?  They're 
both  of 'em  miles  and  miles  too  big  for  you." 

"I  know  that — but  I  cau  make  'em  fit  easy  enough." 

"  I  can't  let.  yon  cut  them  up,  you  know,"  said  the  boy. 
•'Mamma  wouldn't  like  that." 

"Who's  going  to  cut  'em  up?  I'm  not,"  returned  the  fish. 
"That  would  take  a  year.  I'm  going  to  suialleu  mine  up  by 
shrinking  it,  and  I  want  the  biggest  one,  because,  being  the  big- 
gest, it  has  more  room  to  shrink.  See?" 

"How  shrink?"  queried  Jimmieboy,  who  could  not  quite 
comprehend. 

"Why,  they're  made  of  flannel,  those  suits  are,  and  flannel 
shrinks  like  everything  every  time  y.ou  get  it  wet.  Do  you 
know  what  shrinking  is?" 

"  No,  I  don't,"  said  Jimmiehoy.     "  What  is  it  ?" 

"Smallening  up,"  said  the  fish.  "Yon  put  a  yard  of  flannel 
in  water,  and  then  take  it  out  and  let  it  dry,  and  the  chanc'c? 
are  it  '11  only  be  half  a  yard  inside  of  a  week.  I  put  a  No.  41 
bathing-suit  in  the  water  and  then  dry  it,  and  it  becomes  a  No. 
36.  So  I'll  keep  on  wetting  it  and  drying  it  until  it's  my  M/<-.'' 

"  Is  all  this  really  and  truly  true  ?"  asked  Jimmieboy. 

"  Well,  rather!  Where  have  you  been  brought  up, not  to  know 
things  like  that?"  said  the  goldfish,  scornfully.  "I  thought 
everybody  knew  about  such  simple  things.  Why,  I  know  a  man 
who  had  a  beautiful  flannel  coat  once  that  lilted  him  just  to 
perfection  until  he  had  it  washed,  and  it  shrunk  so  he  could 


448 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  XVI. 


"Ob,  you  won't,  be — there's  no  daiiger  at  all  if  yon  know  bow 
to  manage  a  suit,"  said  the  fish.  "  I'd  just  as  leave  let  a  baby 
play  with  a  bathing-suit.  They  aren't  dangerous  unless  yon 
are  foolish  with  them.  But  I  say,  are  yon  most  ready. to  start?" 

•'  I'll  go  at  any  time  you  say,"  said  Jimmieboy,  starting  up. 

"All  right.  Knn  into  the  other  room  aud  put  ou  your  suit, 
and  come  back  just  as  quickly  as  you  can.  It  has  been  a  beauti- 
ful day,  and  I  guess  it's  about  as  fine  a  time  to  visit  the  ocean 
as  we  shall  ever  have." 

[TO    BE    CONTISCKD.] 


A  WISH. 
"I  WISHT  I  was  a  hired  man," 

Said  little  Tommy,  "I'm 
So  fond  of  playing'  wid  the  hose 

Free-quarters  of  my  time." 


"TOMMY,"  .said  the  teacher,  "you  are  a  very  good  boy.  Yon 
haven't  missed  a  day  at  school  this  term.  You  never  play  sick 
ou  school-din  s,  1  know." 

"  No.  ma'am,"  returned  Tommy.  "  I  never  did  that  but  once, 
and  I'll  never  do  it  again,  because,  while  I  ain't  very  fond  of 
school,  I  like  it  a  great  sight  better'n  I  do  castor  oil." 


WHY   HE  DID   IT. 

"JOHNNY,  Johnny,  do  keep  quiet.  You're  talking  all  the 
time.'' 

"I  knows  dat,  Papa.  I  wants  to  learn  how.  I's  (less  pwac- 
tisiu'." 


THE   GOLDFISH    WINKED. 

hardly  get  into  it.  Then  he  gave  it  to  his  wife,  and  it  fitted  her 
just  right,  until  she  by  accident  let  it  drop  into  the  lake  cue  day, 
where  it  got  soaked  again.  When  it  was  dried  she  tried  to  put 
it  on,  and  couldn't,  but  it  proved  to  be  the  right  size  for  the 
baby,  so  the  baby  wore  it.  Orders  were  given  not  to  put  it  iu 
the  wash  ever  again,  but  to  clean  it  when  necessary  in  other 
ways.  Unfortunately  the  baby  and  bis  nurse  got  caught  out  in 
a  raiu-storm  one  afternoon,  aud  that  settled  the  jacket.  It  got 
simply  dripping,  aud  shrunk  up  so  small  it  wouldn't  even  fit  the 
baby's  doll." 

"Audtheu  what  became  of  it?"  asked  Jimmieboy,  his  interest 
very  much  aroused. 

"The  man  it  was  made  for  used  it  as  a  pen-wiper  for  three 
years,  and  then  one  night  somebody  carelessly  upset  a  glass  of 
ice-water  on  it,  aud  it  just  faded  right  out  of  sight,"  said  the 
fish,  scratching  his  chiu  with  his  left  fin.  "  Queer,  wasn't  it  ?': 

"  Yes,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "  Very.  I  should  think  maybe  flan- 
nel might  be  dangerous  to  wear  if  sometime  you  had  it  on  when 
it  was  sopping  wet,  and  weren't  able  to  take  it  off  until  it  had 
shrunk  up.  It  might  squeeze  you  to  death." 

"  Well,  that  all  depends  on  the  flannel,"  said  the  fish.  "  If  it's 
awfully  strong  flannel  you've  got  to  be  careful  of  it.  I  knew  a 
bathing-master  ouce  who  wore  his  bathing-suit  all  the  time; 
and  of  "course,  so  that  it  would  wear  well,  he  had  it  made  of  the 
strongest  rlanuel  he  could  get.  He  used  to  dash  into  the  water 
for  a  minute,  and  then  he'd  come  out  and  sit  on  the  sand  to  dry. 
Then  he'd  dash  in  again  and  romp  in  the  waves  for  a  while, 
always  sitting  ou  the  sand  to  dry  right  afterwards.  He'd  do 
that  fifty  times  a  day,  and  finally  he  mysteriously  disappeared. 
Some  people  said  he'd  run  away,  and  maybe  he  did — but  I  have 
my  own  notion  as  to  what  became  of  him." 

'"What  is  it?"  asked  Jimmieboy.  "Do  you  think  he  was 
drowned?" 

"I  do  not,"  said  the  fish.  "I  think  that  flanuel  suit  just 
shrank  out  of  existence  with  him  in  it." 

"I  don't  think  I'll  wear  flannel,"  said  Jimmieboy,  as  he 
thought  over  the  possible  fate  of  the  bathing- master.  "  I  don't 
want  to  be  disappeared  with." 


HARD  TO  UNDERSTAND. 

"I  DON'T  understand  it  very  well, "said  Walter,  after  strug- 
gling for  a  long  time  with  his  father's  pencil.  "There's  lots  of 
writing  left  in  this  pencil,  but  I  can't  get  it  out;  it  only  makes 
marks." 


TO  SATISFY  HIS   CUIilOSlTY. 
"WHAT  are  you  doing  on  the  bureau,  Tommie  ?" 
••  Standiu'  before  the  lookin'-glass,"  said  Touimie. 
to  see  how  I'd  look  'f  I  was  twins." 


Wanted 


A  GREAT  SAVING. 

"I  SAVED  five  cents  to-day,"  said  Bobbie. 
••  That's  good,"  said  his  grandma.      "  Where  is  it  ?" 
"I  ha\en't  got  it,"  said  Bobbie.      "That's  how  I  saved  it. 
I'd  had  it  I'd  ha'  spent  it." 


If 


AN  ADVANTAGE. 

"  WISH  I  was  twins,"  said  Jimmieboy. 
two  pieces  of  pie." 


'  Theu  I  could  have 


THE  MOON. 
SOME  say  the  moon  is  made  of  cheese, 

But  why  I  cannot  see. 
It  looks  a  wondrous  lot  more  like 

A  big  poached  egg  to  me. 


NOT  SETTLED. 

"ARE  you  going  to  college  when  yon  grow  up,  Johnnie?" 
"Course." 

"What  college  do  you  think  you'll  go  to?" 
"  I  dunno.    I  don't  spect  to  go  for  ten  years  yet,  and  of  course 
I  can't  tell  which  'ill  hold  the  football  championship  then." 


BOBBIE  is  learning  to  read  and  spell  by  the  phonetic  method 
— that  is,  he  is  guided  by  the  sounds  of  the  various  letters. 
For  instance,  in  reading  "  Cat"  he  says,  "  Kuh-au-tuh  " — which 
is  a  v«ry  good  way,  but  it  was  not  accepted  as  an  excuse  by  his 
teacher,  when,  being  told  to  write  goat  ou  the  blackboard,  he 
said,  "  Guh-ate,"  aud  wrote  G  8. 

NOT  ALWAYS  A  GOOD  THING. 

"  I  DON'T  fink  it's  dood  for  me  to  take  a  baft","  said  Mollie  to 
her  mother.  "  I  dave  my  dollie  a  baff  de  ovver  day  an'  it's  took 
all  the  pink  out  of  her  cheeks." 


HARPERS 


ROUND  TABLE 


\3Jf\ 


•  '..[.jri-lit,  isn.i,  by  HARPKU  A  BKOTHKRS.     All  Ri-hts  Reserved. 


PUBLISHED     WEEKLY. 
VOL.   XVI. — NO.   8oQ. 


NEW  YORK,   TUESDAY,  APRIL  30,  1895. 


FIVE  CENTS    A   COPY. 
TWO    nOT.LAlIS    A    YEAH. 


I 


HEROES    OF    AHERICA. 

THE    BATTLE    OF   XE\V    ORLEANS. 
BY     HONORABLE    THEODORE     ROOSEVELT. 


HEX  ill  1814  Napoleon  \vns  over- 
thrown ;iml  exiledtoElba,theBrit- 
ish  troops  that  had  followed  Wel- 
lington into  southern  France  were 
left  free  for  use  against  the  Amer- 
icans. A  great  expedition  was  or- 
ganized to  attack  and  capture  New 
Orleans. and  at  its  head  was  placed 
General  Pakenham,  the  brilliant 
commander  of  the  column  that 
delivered  the  fatal  blow  at  Sala- 
manca. In  December  a  great  fleet  of  British  war-ships  and 
transports,  carrying  thousands  of  victorious  veterans  from 


the  Peninsula,  and  manned  by  sailors  who  had  grown  old 
in  a  quarter  of  century's  ocean  warfare,  anchored  oft'  the 
great  lagoons  of  the  Mississippi  Delta.  The  few  American 
gunboats  were  carried  after  a  desperate  hand-to-hand 
struggle,  the  troops  were  landed,  and  on  the  23d  of  De- 
cember the  advance-guard  of  two  thousand  men  reached 
1he  banks  of  the  Mississippi,  but  ten  miles  below  New 
Orleans,  and  there  camped  for  the  night. 

It  seemed  as  if  nothing  could  save  the  Creole  City  from 
foes  -who  had  shown  in  the  storming  of  many  a  Spanish 
walled  town  that  they  were  as  ruthless  in  victory  .-is  they 
were  terrible  in  battle.  There  were  no  forts  to  ].r. >(.•.•!  I  In' 
place,  and  the  militia  were  ill  armed  and  ill  trained.  But 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


IMPORTANT   NOTICE. 

TO  THE  READERS  OF   "HARPER'S   YOUNG  PEOPLE." 

HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE?  We  imagine  how 
puzzled  and  surprised  a  great  throng  of  you  are 
when  your  favorite  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  sud- 
denly puts  on  a  new  dress  and  wears  a  new  name. 
Yet  it  is  the  very  same  paper  which  has  been  your 
favorite  ever  since  you  first  read  it— the  same,  except 
that  it  has  taken  on  some  additional  features  of  in- 
terest, and  will  he  more  pleasing  to  you  than  ever. 

Of  course  you  wish  to  know  why  a  change  has 
been  made,  and  what  the  Editor  means  to  give  you 
in  the  ROUND  TABLE  which  will  make  up  for  the 
disappearance  of  YOUNG  PEOPLE.  The  ROUND  TABLE 
•will  be  so  big  and  bright  that  it  will  accommodate 
more  young  people  than  you  can  count — all,  in  fact, 
who  belong  to  the  wonderful  Order  you  all  love. 
Listen  to  our  programme  for  the  future: 

Serial  stories  by  our  best  authors,  short,  timely,  and 
entertaining  articles,  and  the  regular  departments 
will  be  continued.  You  will  find  that  not  one  of  the 
attractions  is  omitted.  The  only  alteration  in  the 
periodical,  beyond  the  title  and  make-up,  is  to  be 
found  in  the  additional  departments.  Something 
new  has  been  added  which  is  sure  to  interest  every- 
body. 

Part  of  this  addition  is  the  athletic  department, 
entitled  Intel-scholastic  Sport.  This  department  is 
to  be  conducted  by  "The  Graduate."  who  is  an  ex- 
perienced writer  and  student  of  scholastic  athletics, 
and  who',  while  following  the  course  of  school  ath- 
letics all  over  the  United  States,  will  give  you  many 
valuable  suggestions  on  physical  training.  Another 
part  of  this  addition,  which  will  be  sure  to  please 
YOU  just  now  especially,  is  a  department  on  Bi- 
cycling, which  will  contain  charts  and  maps  show- 
ing pleasant  bicycle  trips  in  or  near  the  large  cities 
of  the  United  States.  This  department  will  be  under 
the  editorship  of  an  expert  wheeler,  who  will  have 
the  assistance  of  the  officers  of  the  League  of  Amer- 
ican Wheelmen.  Besides  these  features  the  type 
will  be  changed  so  that  about  two  hundred  words 
will  be  added  to  each  page  of  the  paper,  thus  in- 
creasing the  amount  of  letter-press  by  nearly  one- 
fourth.  You  will  now  receive  nearly  one-quarter 
again  as  much  reading  matter  as  heretofore  for  the 
same  amount  of  money.  You  will  approve  of  this, 
we  know. 

But  why  give  the  paper  another  name?  Because 
the  Order  of  the  Round  Table,  founded  by  HARPER'S 
Ym'NG  PEOPLE  four  years  ago,  has  grown  to  such 
enormous  proportions,  has  spread  so  far  and  wide, 
lias  gone  into  so  many  corners  of  the  States  of  the 
Union,  and  European  countries  as  well,  that  it  de- 
mands some  definite  recognition  as  one  of  the  largest 
organizations  of  its  kind  in  the  world.  But  the  title 
HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE  means  something  more  than 
this.  It  not  only  acknowledges  the  growth,  the 
power,  and  the  interest  of  the  Order  of  the  Round 
Table,  but  it  is  the  journal  which  goes  into  the  home 
of  its  readers  as  they  sit  about  the  family  ''round 
table  "  of  an  evening.  It  brings  with  it  reading  of 
interest  to  the  children  and  to  the  young  men  and 
women  of  the  family,  as  well  as  to  the  parents;  and 
its  purpose  is  to  introduce  and  maintain  in  the  family 
of  this  nineteenth  century  some  of  the  manly  quali- 
ties, some  of  the  chivalry,  honesty,  and  uprightness 
which  have  made  the  Table  Round  of  King  Arthur 


so  famous  in  history.  HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE  re- 
presents the  chivalry  of  brother  to  sister  and  sister  to 
brother,  children  to  parents  and  parents  to  children, 
in  this  present  day.  It  maintains  that  all  the  good 
qualities  of  King  Arthur's  Order  are  equally  appli- 
cable and  necessary  in  the  family  circle  of  to-day, 
and  it  purposes  to  stand  for  them  week  by  week. 
The  ROUND  TABLE,  therefore,  is  not  only  the  title  of 
a  great  organization  of  young  Americans,  but  it  also 
stands  for  a  periodical  which  should  be  a  welcome 
visitor  in  every  family  circle.  Its  readers  will  find 
in  its  pages  amusement,  interest,  instruclion,  as  well 
as  suggestions  of  what  courtesy  and  courage  mean, 
and  what  they  can  accomplish.  HARPER'S  ROUND 
TABLE  is  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  in  a  larger  form. 
with  its  field  broadened  and  its  interest  increased. 
You  will  endorse  this  change,  not  only  for  itself, 
but  because  it  also  furnishes  you  with  more  reading 
matter  than  was  promised  you  \vhen  you  subscribed 
for  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


HEROES    OF    AMERICA. 

(Continued  from  front  ii/;,c.) 

the  hour  found  the  man.  On  tin-  iifn-rnoon  of  the  very 
day  when  the  British  reached  the  banks  of  the  river  the 
.vanguard  of  Andrew  Jackson's  Tennessceans  marched  into 
New  Orleans.  Clad  in  hunting-shirts  of  buckskin  or  home- 
spun, wearing  wolf-skin  and  coon-skin  caps,  and  carrying 
their  long  rifles  on  their  shoulders,  the  wild  soldiery  of  tin- 
backwoods  tramped  into  the  little  French  town.  They 
were  tall  men,  with  sinewy  frames  and  piercing  eves. 
Under  "Old  Hickory's"  lead  they  had  won  the  bloody 

battle  of  the   Hoiscsl Bend   against   the  Creeks;    they 

had  driven  tin-  Spaniards  from  Pcnsacnla  :  and  now  tliey 
were  eager  to  pit  them-i-hes  against  the  most  renowned 
troops  of  all  Europe. 

Jackson  acted  with  his  usual  tiery,  hasty  decision.  It 
was  absolutely  net-ssary  to  get  time  in  which  to  Ihrow  up 
some  kind  of' breastworks  or  defences  tin-  the  city,  and  lie 
at  once  resolved  r.,i  a  night  attack  against  the  Bntish.  As 
for  the  P.ritish.  ihey  had  no  thought  of  being  molested. 
They  did  not  dream  of  an  assault  from  inferior  numbers  of 
undisciplined  and  ill-armed  militia,  who  did  not  possess  so 
much  as  bayonets  to  their  gnus.  They  kindled  tires  along 
the  levees,  ate  their  supper,  and  then,  as  the  evening  fell, 
noticed  a  big  schooner  drop  down  the  river  in  ghostly  si- 
lence and  bring  np  opposite  to  them.  The  soldiers  flocked 
to  the  shore,  challenging  the.  stranger,  and  finally  tired  one 
or  two  shots  at  her.  Then  suddenly  a  rough  voice  was 
heard  exclaiming,  "Now  give  it  to  them,  for  the  honor  of 
America."  and  a  shower  of  shell  and  grape  fell  on  the 
British,  driving  them  off  the-  le\ec.  The  stranger  was  an 
American  man-of-war  schooner.  The  British  brought  np 
artillery  to  drive  her  off,  lint  before  they  succeeded  Jack- 
son's land  troops  burst  upon  them,  and  a  tierce,  indecisive 
struggle  followed.  In  the  night  all  order  was  speedily  lost, 
and  The  two  sides  fought  singly  or  in  groups  in  the  utmost 
confusion.  Finally  a  fog  came  np,  and  the  combatants 
separated.  Jackson  drew  off  four  or  five  miles  and  camped. 

The  British  had  been  so  roughly  handled  thai  they  were 
unable  to  advance  for  three  or  four  days,  until  the  entire 
army  came  np.  When  they  did  advance  it  was  only  to  liml 
that  Jackson  had  made  good  use  of  the  time  he  had  gained 
by  his  daring  assault.  He  had  thrown  np  breastworks  of 
nind  and  logs  from  the  swamp  to  the  river.  At  li'-st  the 
Mritish  tried  to  battei  clown  these  breastworks  with  their 
cannon,  for  they  bad  many  more  gnus  than  the  Americans. 
A  terrible  artillery  duel  followed.  For  an  hour  or  two  the 
result  seemed  in  doubt;  but  the  American  gunners  showed 
themselves  to  be  far  more  skilful  than  their  antagonists, 
and  gradually  getting  the  upper  hand,  they  finally  silenced 
every  piece  of  liritish  artillery.  The  Americans  had  used 
colton  bales  in  the  embrasures,  and  the  I'.rilisli  hogsheads 
of  sugar,  but  neither  worked  well,  for  the  cotton  caught 


450 


HAMPER'S  ROUND  TABLE 


HIT.  and  the  sugar  hogsheads  were  ripped  and  splintered 
li.v  the  round  shot,  so  that  both  were  abandoned.  By  the 
use  of  red-hot  slmt  the  British  succeeded  in  setting'  lire  to 
the  American  schooner  which  had  caused  them  such  annoy- 
ance on  the  evening  of  the  night  attack;  but  she  had 
served  her  purpose,  and  her  destruction  caused  little  anxiel y 
to  .l.ickson. 

Having  failed  in  his  effort,  to  batter  down  the  American 
breastworks,  and  the  British  artillery  having  been  fairly 
worsted  by  the  American,  I'akenliani  decided  to  try  an  open 
assault.  He  had  ten  thousand  regular  troops,  while  Jack- 
son had  under  him  but  little  over  rive  thousand  men.  who 
were  trained  only  as  he  had  himself  trained  them  in  his 
Indian  campaigns.  Not,  a  fourth  of  them  carried  bayonets. 
Both  1'akenham  and  the  troops  under  him  were  fresh  from 
victories  won  over  the  most  renowned  marshals  of  Na- 
poleon, and  over  troops  that  had  proved  themselves  on  a 
hundred  stricken  fields  the  masters  of  all  others  in  conti- 
nental Europe.  At  Toulouse  they  hail  driven  Marshal 
Sonlt  from  a  position  infinitely  stronger  than  that  held  by 
Jackson,  and  yet  Sonlt  had  under  him  a  veteran  army.  At 
Bada.jns,  L'indad  Kodrigo,  and  San  Sebastian  they  had  car- 
ried by  open  assault  walled  towns  whose  strength  made 
the  entrenchments  of  the  Americans  seem  like  mud  walls 
built  by  children,  though  these  towns  were  held  by  the 
best  troops  of  France.  With  such  troops  to  follow  him, 
and  with  such  victories  behind  him  in  the  past,  it  did  not 
seem  to  Pakenham  possible  that  the  assault  of  the  terrible 
British  infantry  could  be  successfully  met  by  rough  back- 
w is  riflemen  lighting  under  a  General  as  wild  and  un- 
trained as  themselves. 

He  decreed  that  the  assault  should  take  place  on  the 
morning  of  the  tfth.  Throughout  the  previous  night  the 
American  officers  were  on  the  alert,  for  they  could  hear  the 
rumbling  of  artillery  in  the  British  camp,  the  muffled  tread 
of  the  battalions  as  they  were  marched  to  their  points  in  the 
line,  and  all  the  smothered  din  of  the  preparation  for  as- 
sault. Long  before  dawn  the  riflemen  were  awake,  and 
drawn  up  behind  the  mud  walls,  where  they  lolled  at  ease, 
or,  leaning  on  their  long  rifles,  peered  out  through  the  fog 
toward  the  camp  of  their  foes. 

At  last  the  sun  rose  and  the  Cog  slowly  lifted,  showing 
the  glorious  array  of  the  scarlet  British  infantry.  As 
soon  as  the,  air  was  clear  rakenham  gave  the  word,  and 
.the  heavy  columns  of  red-coated  grenadiers  and  killed 

Highlanders  veil  steadily  forward.  From  the  American 

breastworks  the  great  guns  opened,  but  not  a  rille  clacked. 
Three-fourths  of  the  distauve  was  covered,  and  the  eager 
soldiers  broke  into  a  run:  then  sheets  of  flame  burst  from 
the  breastworks  in  their  front  as  the  wild  riflemen  of  the 
backwoods  rose  and  tired,  line  upon  line.  Under  the  sweep- 
ing hail  the  head  of  the  British  advance  was  shattered,  and 
the  whole  column  stopped.  Then  it  surged  forward  again 
almost  to  the  foot  of  the  breastworks:  but  not  a  man  lived 
to  reach  them,  ami  in  a  moment  more  the  troops  broke  and 
ran  back. 

.Mad  with  shame  and  rage,  I'jtkenham  rode  quickly 
among  them  to  rally  and  lead  them  forward,  aud  the  officers 
sprang  around  him. smiting  the  fugitives  with  their  swords, 
and  cheering  on  the  men  who  stood.  For  a  moment  the 
troops  halted,  and  again  came  forward  to  the  charge;  but 
again  they  were  met  by  a  hail  of  bullets  from  the  back- 
w Is  rifles.  One  shot  struck  Pakenham  himself.  He  reel- 
ed and  fell  from  the  saddle,  aud  was  carried  off  the  field. 
The  second  in  command  was  wounded,  and  then  all  attempts 
at  further  advance  were  abandoned,  and  the  British  troops 
ran  back  to  their  lines.  Another  assault  hail  meanwhile 
been  made  by  a  column  close  to  the  river,  the  charging  sol- 
diers rushing  right  up  to  the  top  of  the  breastworks;  but 
they  wen-  all  killed  or  driven  back.  A  body  of  troops  had 
also  been  sent  across  the  river,  where  they  routed  a  small 
detachment  of  Kentucky  militia:  but  they  were,  of  course, 
recalled  when  the  main  assault  failed. 

For  the  tirst  time  in  a  quarter  of  a  century  the  British 
soldiers,  the  men  who  had  conquered  the  conquerors  of  Eu- 
rope, had  met  defeat.  Andrew  Jackson  aud  his  rough  rifle- 
men had  worsted  in  a  fair  light  a  far  larger  force  of  the  best 
of  Wellington's  veterans,  aud  had  accomplished  what  no 


French  marshal  aud  no  French  troops  had  been  able  to  ac- 
complish throughout  the  long  war  in  the  Spanish  Peninsula. 
Fora  week  the  sullen  British  lay  in  their  lines;  then.aban 
doning  their  heavy  artillery,  they  inarched  back  to  the  ships 
aud  sailed  again;  for  Europe. 


You  1 1 


A   CHANGE  OF   FORTUNE. 

"/~VH,  the  days  when  I  was  happy!" 

\_f   Sighed  a  pensive  little  Jappy, 
As  the   crystal  tears  rolled   down   and    washed   the  color 

from  his  cheek. 
On  the  table  in   my  study 
Sweetly  smiling,  round,  and   ruddy, 
Many  years  he   had  been  standing  in  a   china  jar  unique. 

Now,  alas!  his  smile  was  faded. 

His  expression   worn   and  jaded. 

And  his   bursting  heart  found  utterance  in  a  woful  lam- 
entation : 

"i  ili.  that   from  my  proud  position, 

Highest  goal  of  my  ambition. 
I  should  ever  stoop  to  suffer  such  a  sad  humiliation! 

"Once  I  was  caressed  and  flattered, 
Rich  or  poor,  it  little  mattered, 
and  old,  from    babe   to  grandsire,  every  one  must 

have  a  'Jap.' 
And  alike   by  tastes  a-sthetic, 
Grave  or  humorous  or  poetic, 

I  was  hailed,  and  all-triumphant,  lived  and  throve  in  For- 
tune's lap. 

'•Then — ah  me! — the  reigning  fashion, 
Every  artist   had  a  passion 
For  displaying  me  in   pictures,  and  the  studios  were  my 

own. 

Now.  to  claim  their  whole  attention, 
One   whom   I  am  loath  to  mention 

Comes,  an    upstart,  a    usurper,  and    ascends    my   righlful 
throne. 

"Hard  it  is  my  grief  to  smother, 

Bitter  thus  to  see  ; iher 

Wear  my  honors!    Artists  paint  him,  poets  his  perfections 

praise. 

Everywhere  his  visage   hated 
Greets  me.      He   is  fondled,  feted, 

Worst    of  all,  he    rules    the    children    as    did    I  in    other 
dav  3. 

'•Nevermore  shall   I  be  happy,'1 
Said  the  weeping  little  Jappy, 
"Nevermore  my  days  be  merry,  aud  my  slumbers  soft  and 

downy. 

I  shall  live,  but  all  unheeded, 
Quite  cut  out   and  superseded 

By    that     precious,  omnipresent     pet     and     paragon,    the 
.Bruit- it ii- !"  MAI:<;AI;KT  Junxsox. 


OFF   WITH  THE   MERBOY; 

BY  JOHN  KENDRICK  BANGS. 
CHAPTER     II. 

TIIK    STAIiT. 

IMMIEBOY  grabbed  up  his  blue 
suit  and  in  a  very  few  minutes  was 
arrayed  in  it,  but  on  his  return  to 
the  aquarium  to  join  the  goldfish 
he  found  it  empty. 

"  Dear  me  !"  he  cried.  "I  wonder 
if  he  can  have  gone  oft"  without 
me." 

"No,  he  hasn't,"  came  a  silvery 
voice  from  behind  him. 

Jimniieboy  turned  sharply  about, 

and  there,  sitting  upon  the  sofa  arrayed  in  his  red  bathing- 
suit,  sat  a  beautiful  boy  of  about  his  own  age  and  size,  with 
great  masses  of  golden  hair  falling  over  his  shouldeis. 


431 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"  Hullo !"  said  Jinnnicboy,  as  sooii  as  he  bad  recovered 
from  his  surprise.  "  Who  are  you  ?" 

"Iain  your  goldfish,"  laughed  the  boy.  "  Or,  rather,  I 
was.  I  am  no\v  my  true  self.  I  am  a  merboy,  as.  iu  fact, 
all  goldfish  are.  See  ?"  he  added,  holding  up  what  Jiinmie- 
boy  had  takeii  for  feet.  "I  have  a  tail  like  a  fish  iustead 
of  feet." 

Jiiiunieboy  was  delighted.  He  had  heard  all  about  mer- 
men and  mermaids,  but  merboys  were  something  new. 

"  Now,"  said  the  merboy,  as  a  tremendous  lashing  of 
something  in  the  aquarium  began  to  ruffle  up  the  water 
therein,  "  come  along.  Get  into  my  carriage  aud  we  shall 
start." 

Mute  with  astonishment,  Jinnnieboy  could  do  nothing 
but  obey,  and  entering  a  huge  vehicle  that  floated  upon 
the  surface  of  the  water  iu  the  aqu'arium — which  had,  sin- 
gularly enough,  taken  on  tremendous  proportions — the 
merboy  ga.ve  a  whistle,  and  they  were.  off.  Tlie  carriage 
had  the  appearance  of  a  superb  shell  lined  with  mother-of- 
pearl,  and  studded  all  over  with  the  most  costly  and  lus- 
trons'jewels,  aud  soon  passing  out  from  the  limits  of  the 
aquarium,  Jimmieboy  found  himself  bounding  over  a  great 
body  of  water,  drawn  by  a  pair  of  gayly  caparisoned  dol- 
phins, which  the  smiling  merboy  guided  with  two  golden 
ribbons. 

"  How  do  you  feel?"  asked  the  merboy,  as,  after  driving 
along  for  several  minutes,  the  travellers  passed  out  of  sight 
of  land. 

"  First  rate,"  said  Jimmieboy.     "  This  is  lots  of  fun." 

"  I'm  glad  you  find  it  so,"  returned  the  merboy,  with  a 
smile  of  relief.  "  I  was  afraid  you  were  not  enjoying  your- 
self very  much.  You  looked  a  little  anxious.  Were  you 
anxious?" 

"Not  exactly,"  replied  Jimmieboy.  "But  it  ilid  sort  of 
bother  me  when  I  thought  of  what  might  happen  if  this 
wagon  should  upset." 

"  Don't  see  anything  you  need  to  bother  about  in  that," 
said  the  merboy,  giving  the  near  dolphin  a  flick  with  his 
whip  for  shying  at  a  buoy.  "  It's  twice  as  safe  as  driving 
on  land.  The  land  is  hard,  and  if  you  were  thrown  out  of 
a  wagon  there  the  chances  are  you'd  be  hurt ;  but  here  it 
is  very  different.  Falling  out  here  would  be  like  tumbling 
iut.o  a  feather  bed.  The  water  is  very  soft." 

"I  understand  that,  of  course,"  said  Jimmieboy.  with  a 
smile.  "  But  what  I  was  worrying  about  chiefly  was  that 
the  water  here  is  very  deep.  It  must  be  two  or  three  times 
over  my  head,  and  I  can't  swim.  I  can  only  wade." 

"What  of  it  ?  I  don't  see  anything  in  that  to  worry 
about,"  retorted  the  merboy.  "I  might  just  as  well  get 
timid  when  we  are  near  the  shore  because  I  can't  wade." 

"Wouldn't  I  be  drowned?"  asked  Jimmieboy. 

The  look  which  the  ex-goldfish  gave  Jimmieboy  as  the 
latter  said  this  was  one  of  reproach.  He  was  evidently 
deeply  hurt  by  Jimmieboy's  remark. 

"  You  aren't  a  polite  boy,  I  think,"  he  said.  "  The  idea! 
Wouldn't  you  be  drowned!  Let  me  ask  you  a  question. 
If  you  were  invited  out  to  dinner  by  a  person  you  knew, 
do  you  think  whjle  you  were  sitting  at  his  table  you'd  go 
hunting  about  in  your  head  for  some  if  that  would  end  in 
your  starving  to  death  1  Wouldn't  you  know  that  being 
invited  to  eat  with  that  man  you'd  get  your  dinner  all 
right  ?" 

"  Certainly, "  said  Jimmieboy.  "  But  what  has  that  got 
to  do  with  it?" 

"Plenty,"  snapped  the  merboy.  "You  are  my  guest, 
and  I  look  after  all  the  details,  such  as  swimming  and  so 
forth, just  as  your  other  host  would  look  after  all  (he  de- 
tails, such  as  eating  and  so  forth.  If  you  are  going  to  be  a 
ecarecat  I'll  drive  right  back  home  again,  for  I  don't  like 
cats  of  any  kind." 

"I'm  not  afraid,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "I  trust  you, 
Jlermy." 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  merboy,  dropping  one  rein  to 
squeeze  Jimmieboy's  hand.  "Thank  you  very  much.  You 
will  find  your  confidence  is  well  placed,  for  as  long  as  you 
are  with  me  as  my  guest  you  can  stand  on  your  head  miles 
deep  iu  water  without  being  in  any  danger  of  drowning. 
Why,  if  you  couldn't,  1  never  should  have  thought  of  bring- 


ing you  along,  for  in  a  very  few  minutes  we  come  to  a  turn 
in  our  road  aud  then  we  shall  drive  down  under  the  water 
three  miles  and  a  half,  and,  what  is  more,  you  won't  even 
know  you  are  under  water  unless  I  tell  you." 

So  Jimmieboy  was  reassured  on  the  one  point  concerning 
which  he  had  been  a  little  timid,  and  he  proceeded  at  once 
to  enjoy  everything  he  saw.  In  silence  they  drove  on  and 
on,  and  as  the  ocean  was  as  smooth  as  glass  they  covered  a 
great  many  miles  iu  a  few  minutes.  Suddenly  the  merboy 
reined  iu  bis  dolphins  with  a  sharp  jerk,  which  caused  the 
carriage  to  stop  with  such  suddenness  that  Jimmieboy  was 
nearly  thrown  out  of  his  scat. 

"  What's  the  matter?"  cried  Jimmieboy.  a  little  alarmed 
at  this  sudden  stoppage.  "  Nothing  wrong  ?" 

"No, "said  the  merboy,  shortly.  "But  there  might  have 
been.  Look  ahead  of  you  there." 

Jimmieboy  did  as  be  was  told,  and  saw  in  an  instant  why 
the  merboy  had  stopped  short.  A  great  big  ocean  steamer 
was  ploughing  its  way  through  the  waves  at  a  tremendous 
rate  of  speed  directly  across  their  path. 

"  Don't  you  see  ?"  said  the  merboy,  as  the  steaming  mon- 
ster passed  on,  leaving  a  great  strip  of  white  foam  behind 
it;  "  we  were  nearly  run  down  that.  time.  It  is  dreadful 
the  way  these  steamers  are  allowed  to  ignore  the  safety  of 
the  rightful  occupants  of  the  seas.  On  laud,  when  a  rail- 
road crosses  a  driveway,  they  make  the  trains  go  over  or 
,  under  a  road  in  many  places,  and  where  they  don't  do  that, 
the\  make  them  put  up  fences  or  bars  and  station  men  to 
signal  people  who  are  driving  of  the  approach  of  trains. 
Out  here  they  are  perfectly  lawless.  They  cross  our  drives 
on  the  level  always,  and  never  yet  has  one  of  the  steamers 
whistled  or  rung  a  bell  to  warn  a  fish  to  get  out  of  its 
way." 

"  It  doesn't  seem  right,  does  it  ?"  said  Jimmieboy. 

"No,  it  doesn't,"  replied  the  merboy  ;  "  and  the  meanest 
part  of  it  all  is  the  steamship  people  don't  care.  If  I  bad 
my  way  they'd  be  compelled  to  feuc£  in  their  routes  all  the 
way  over,  and  station  signal-men  iu  boats  at  road  crossings 
to  warn  us  of  impending  danger.  Why,  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  our  own  police,  police  that  we  have  to  pay  ourselves, 
yon  and  I  would  have  been  run  down  jnst  now." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  you  have  police  out  here  on  the 
ocean  ?"said  Jimmieboy. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  merboy  ;  "  several  of  'em.  In  fact,  we 
have  about  a  million  of  'em  altogether.  You  land  people 
call  'em  porpoises.  Kver  see  a  pen  poise  ?" 

"Lots  of  them,"  Jimmieboy  replied.  "They  come  up 
our  river  sometimes,  and  papa  has  told  me  lots  of  stories 
about  them,  but  he  never  said  they  were  policemen." 

"They  aren't  police-men,"  laughed  the  merboy.  "  They 
are  police-fish.  What  did  he  ever  tell  you  about  them?" 

"Oh — well — he  said  he'd  seen  schools  of  them  jumping 
about  in  the  water  when  he  was  crossing  the  ocean  on  one 
of  those  big  boats,"  said  Jimmieboy  ;  "aud  one  of  them,  he 
said,  followed  his  ship  for  four  days  one  time.  The  reason 
why  I  remember  about  it  particularly  is  that  he  told  me, 
maybe,  if  I  would  be  a  very  good  boy,  he'd  try  to  get  me 
one  for  a  pet  that  I  could  tie  a  chain  to  aud  lead  around 
when  we  went  rowing  some  time." 

The  merboy  laughed. 

"  The  idea  !"  he  said.  "  As  if  a  porpoise  could  be  treated 
like  a  poodle!  That  shows  bow  little  you  land  people 
know  about  porpoises.  Did  your  father  say  they  went 
about  iu  schools?" 

"That's  what  he  told  me,"  said  Jimmieboy,  meekly. 
"Don't  they?" 

"Humph!"  said  the  merboy.  "Don't  they!  Well,  let 
me  tell  you  one  thing.  Don't  you  ever  let  a  porpoise  hear 
you  say  he  goes  about  in  schools.  Leave  schools  to  min- 
nows and  moss-bunkers  and  children.  Why,  my  dear  boy, 
porpoises  know  too  much  to  go  about  in  schools.  They'd 
be  much  more  likely  to  go  about  in  colleges,  if  they  went  iu 
anything  of  the  sort.  Didn't  you  ever  hear  the  story  of 
the  Porpoise  and  the  Land-sage?" 

"  I  never  did,"  Jimmieboy  answered.  "  I  never  heard  of 
a  land-sage  either.  What  is  a  land-sage?" 

"  A  laud-sage  is  a  creature  .like  a  man.  In  fact,  he  is  a 
man,  and  he  lives  on  the  laud,  and  thinks  he  knows  every- 


452 


HARPEE'S   ROUND   TABLE 


thing,  when  in  re- 
ality he  only  knows 
laud  things." 

"  But  isn't  it 
good  to  know  laud 
things  ?"  Jimmie-- 
boy  asked. 

"Oh  yes  —  in 
a  way,"  said  the 
merboy,  patroniz- 
ingly. "  Bn't  just 
because  you  know 
laud  things  doesn't 
make  yon  the 
wisest  thing  in 
the  world.  It's  a 
great  deal  better 
to  know  sea  things, 
because  if  you 
know  sea  things 
you  know  more 
than  you  do  if  you 
only  know  laud 
things.  There's 
three  times  as 
much  sea  as  laud 
iu  the  world,  and 
so,  of  course,  sea- 
sages  are  three 
times  as  wise  as 
land-sages.  What's 
more,  you  who  live 
ou  the  land  don't 
begin  to  hear  of  a 
half  of  a.  millionth 

part  of  the  things  that  happeu  under  the  sea,  while  we  who 
live  under  the  sea  can  get  all  the  laud  news  we  want  by 
tapping  your  Atlantic  cable." 

"  Why,  so  you  can,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "I  uever  thought 
of  that." 

"  Of  course  yon  didn't.  You  haven't  got  the  kind  of 
mind  that  thinks  that  kind  of  thoughts,"  sneered  the  mer- 
boy. "You  people  think  you  are  great  when  you  are  able 
to  sit  at  your  breakfast  tables  iu  New  York  on  Friday 
morning  and  talk  about  what  has  happened  in  Lundou 
that  same  Friday  afternoon — and  it  is  rather  smart  to  be 
able  to  do  that,  I  admit — but  what  do  yon  know  about 
what  has  been  going  ou  in  Sealadelphia,  or  Sharkargo,  or 
Whalingtou,  or  Moss-bunkerton  ?  Not  a  thing,  I'll  war- 
rant. But  these  sea  creatures  know  all  you  know,  and  all 
their  own  news  besides.  So, you  see,  when  aland-sage  be- 
gins swapping  knowledge  with  a  sea-sage  he  finds  himself 
'way  behind." 

"And  what  was  the  story  about  the  Porpoise  and  the 
Land-sage  ?"  asked  Jimmieboy. 

"Well,  as  I  remember  it,"  said  the  merboy,  "  it  went  this 
way: 

THK    PORPOISE    AND    THE    LAND-SAGE. 

A  Land-sage  once,  who  thought  he  knew 

All  that  there  was  to  know, 
Went  out  to  sea  without  a  crew, 

And  floated  to  and  fro. 
And  then,  before  he  was  aware 

Just  what  he  was  about, 
A  fearful  wind  did  straightway  tear 

His  jib  and  mainsail  out. 

"I'm  all  at  sea!"  he  moaned  and  cried; 

"  Oh  dear,  what  shall  I  do  ! 
Would  that  I'd  never  come  outside 

Without  my  gallant  crew." 
Just  as  he  spoke  a  Porpoise  came. 

The  Land-sage  cried,  "  What,  ho ! 
Where  are  you  from,  and  what's  your  name? 

Hullo  there,  you!     Hullo!" 

"What  do  you  wish?"  the  Porpoise  said 

In  accents  soft  and  meek. 
"  I'd  like  to  be  at  home  in  bed — 

What  language  do  you  speak  ?" 


STARTING    OFF. 


"  Sea-doggerel,"  the  Porpoise  then 

Made  answer  with  a  grin, 
"Unless  I  speak  with  Englishmen, 

And  then  I  speak  in  Finn." 

"Perhaps,"  the  Land-sage  then  observed, 

"  You  can  enlighten  me 
By  telling  me — I'm  much  unnerved — 

Just  where  I  chance  to  be." 
"Of  course  I  can,"  the  tish  said.     "You, 

I  tliink  'tis  very  clear, 
Are  out  'of  sight  of  Manitou 

And  just  about  off  here." 

"  Pray  do  not  mock  me,"  quoth  the  sage ; 

"I'm  truly  badly  off, 
And  'tis  not  right  one  of  your  age 

At  one  like  me  should  scoff. 
I  am  the  most  enlightened  man 

That  e'er  the  world  did  see; 
So  help  me  home,  sir,  if  you  can, 

And  tell  me  where  I  be." 

"  You  make  me  laugh,"  the  Porpoise  said. 

"  Why  should  you  come  to  me  ? 
If  you've  all  knowledge  in  your  head, 

I  truly  cannot  see 
Why  you  should  ask  a  Porpoise,  who 

Is  ignorant  and  plain, 
What  in   this  instance  you  should  do 

To  get  back  home  again  ? 

"But  I  will  tell  you  what  I'll  do: 

If  you  will  shed  some  light 
Upon  a  few  things — one  or  two — 

I'll  get  you  back  all  right." 
"A  bargain!"  cried  the  Land-sage,  loud. 

"  I  pray  you  do  begin." 
"  I  will,"  the  Porpoise  said,  and  bowed. 

"  Why  do  you  wear  a  chin  ? 

"  Why  have  you  hair  upon  your  head  ? 

And  why  do  men  wear  cuffs  ? 
And  why  are  cannon-crackers  red  ? 

And  why  is  cream   in  puffs? 
Why  can't  you  swim  on  mountain-tops? 

And  why  is  water  wet  ? 
And  why  don't  liens,  like  lambs,  have  chops? 

And  why  don't  roosters  set  ?" 


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Tin'  [/.mil-sage  paled  as  to  his  cheek. 

"  I  cannot  say,"  said  lie. 
"Then    why  does  Friday  come  each   week? 

And  whv  do  maids  drink  tea? 
<lli    irll  nit-  why  all   kittens  mew? 

And   why  do  little  boys, 
When   with  their  daily  tasks  they're  through, 

.Make  such  a  dreadful  noise? 

The   Porpoise   waited   lor  the  sage 

To  answer,  Imt  in   vain. 
It  filled  the  wise  man   full  of  rage 

To  have  to  flunk  again. 
Whereat   the   I'cirpoise.  \\iih   a    sneer 

And  very  scornful  glance, 
Remarked:    "You're  very  dull,  I   fear. 

I'll  give  you  one  more  chance. 

"Tell  me  one  thing  I  never  heard 

In  all  my  life  before, 
And  I   will   pass  to  you  my  word 

To  see  you  safe  ashore. 
But  don't  be  rash,  oh,  sage,"  said  he. 

"Take  all  the  time  you  need 
To  think  of  what  to  tell  me 

That's  truly  new  indeed." 

The  Land  sage  thought  and  thought  all  day, 

lie'  thought  the  long  night  through, 
But  not  an   idea  came   his  way 

That  he  was  sure  was  new  ; 
And   finally,  in  great  de-p;nr, 

He  thought  that  he  would  see 
What  could   be  done  to  ease  his  care 

By  simple  flattery. 

And  so  he  spoke,  "  Oh,  Mr.  P , 

Oh,  Porpoise,  sleek  and  trim, 
Tin'  thought  has  just  occurred  to  me 

My  wisdom's  rather  slim  ; 
But   I  believe  a  creature  that 

'S  us   beautiful  as  you 
Can't  have  the  heart  to  let  a  flat 

Like  me  die  in  the  blue." 

"  You  think  me  so  ?"  the  Porpoise  said. 

"  I  do !"  the  sage  replied. 
"You  have  the  purest  classic  head 

I  ever  have  espied. 
Your  eyes  are  truly  lovely. 

And  your  mouth  is  full  of  grace, 
And  nothing  nobler  can  one  see 

Than  is  your  noble  face." 

The  Land-sage  ceased ;  the  Porpoise  smoled 

And  winked  his  eyes  of  blue. 
"You've  won,  professor.     You  have  told 

Me  something  truly  new. 
I  never  heard  mv  beauty  praised 

In  all   my  life  before." 
And  then   his  good  right  fin  he  raised 

And  towed  the  sage  ashore. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


MISS  APPOLINA'S  CHOICE. 

BY  AGNES  LITTLETON. 
Part  I- 

OUTSIDE,  the  house  was  simply  one  of  a  long  row  of 
brownstone  houses  which  line  many  of  the  Xe\v  York 
streets,  but  the  room  in  which  Millicent  Reid  was  sitting 
this  fine  spring  afternoon  hail  an  individuality  of  its  own. 

'•  The  gills"  were  Millicent  and  Joanna  Keid. 

Millicent  was  nearly  seventeen,  and  with  her  cousin  Peg- 
gy, who  lived  across  the  street,  .studied  with  a  governess 
and  various  masters,  but  Joanna,  or  Joan,  as  she  was  fre- 
quently called,  went  to  school.  At  this  very  moment  she 
burst  into  the  room,  carrying  a  pile  of  school  books,  which 
she  Hung  on  the  table  with  a  resounding  crash. 

"  It  is  to  be  on  the  :!oth  of  April,  and  we  are  all  asked  to 
send  just  as  much  as  we  can,  and  Mrs.  Pearson  said  anything 
would  do, "said  Joanna,  us  she  pulled  off  her  gloves. 

" Oh,  don't,  Joan !"  exclaimed  Millicent,  who  had  a  pencil 
in  her  hand,  and  had  hastily  thrust  a  morocco-bound  honk 


under  the  sofa  pillow  when  her  sister  entered.  "Yon  do 
startle  me  so.  What  is  to  be  on  the  :!0th  of  April  .'" 

"The  fail',  of  course.  Now  don't  pretend  you  don't  know 
anything  about  it.  when  the  Pearsons  have  talked  of  no- 
thing else  for  weeks." 

"I  have  had  other  things  to  think  of,"  returned  Milli- 
cent. with  dignity.  "For  one  thing.  I  am  wondering  which 
of  ns  three  Cousin  Appolina  will  lake  \\ilh  her  to  Eng- 
land. If  she  only  would  choose  me  !  And  then — oh,  there 
are  other  things!"  And  .she  nibbled  the  end  of  her  pencil. 
Millicent  was  Joanna's  only  sister,  and  sin-  had  beautiful 
golden  hair,  large  blue,  eyes,  and  poetic  tendencies.  Joan 

was  very  sun-  that  the  inoioeco-1 d   book,  of  \\  Inch  she 

had  caught  a  glimpse  more  than  once  when  it  was  thrust 
away  just  as  it  had  been  this  afternoon,  contained  poems — 
actual  poems. 

Joan  gazed  at  her  sister,  as  she  lay  back  among  the  big 
cushions, with  pride  and  admiration  not  unmixed  with  envy. 
She  would  so  love  to  write  poetry  herself,  but  next  best  to 
that  was  having  a  sister  who  could  do  it.  She  only  v\  i-hed 
that  Milly  would  let  her  see  something  that  she  had  writ- 
ten. She  could  then  assure  her  cousin,  Peggy  Eeid,  with 
absolute  knowledge  of  facts,  that  her  sister  was  a  poetess. 
Now  she  could  only  darkly  hint  upon  the  subject,  and  it 
was  not  altogether  satisfactory,  for  she  felt  confident  that 
Peggy  did  not  believe  her. 

But  at  present  the  fair  was  the  all-absorbing  topic,  and 
Joanna  returned  to  the  charge.  "We  shall  ha\e  to  send 
something,  Milly,  for  Mrs.  Pearson  said  she  depended  upon 
ns,  and  it  is  for  such  a  good  object  she  said  she  kne\\  u  e 
would  help  her  all  we  could.  It  is  to  furnish  the  new  chap- 
el, you  know:  to  get  a  lee — lack — luck — something  for 
them  to  read  the  Bible  on.  What  is  it,  Milly  .'" 
"A 'lectern, 'I  suppose  you  mean." 

"Yes,  that's  it — •  lectern';  and  a  big  I'.ible  I  <  nut  on  it, 
ami  lots  of  Prayer-books  and  Hymnals  to  stick  around  the 
church,  and  some  vases  for  flowers,  and  a  brass  cross  and 
foot-stools,  and  lots  of  other  things  they  need.  Mrs.  Pear- 
sou  said  we  must  try  to  send  as  many  fancy  articles  as  we 
could  to  the  fair,  and  try  to  sell  some  tickets." 

"I  have  no  time  to  make  anything,  and  besides  I  don't 
do  any  fancy-work,"  said  Millicent;  "and  if  you  don't  mind, 
Joan,  I  wish  you  would  go.  I  am  very  busy  just  now." 

"Y'ou  don't  look  a  hit.  busy.  What  are  you  doing?  No- 
fhuig.biit  biting  a  pencil.  I  wish  yon  would  tell  me  vi  hat 
yon  were  doing  when  I  came,  in,  Mill." 

"If  yon  only  would  not  call  me  'Mill'  or  'Milly'!  I 
simply  ill-test  it.  As  long  as  I  have  a  good  name,  I  do  \\  ish 
I  could  be  called  by  it." 

"I  promise  and  vow  I  will  always  call  yon  Millicent.  full 
length,  if  you  will  only  tell  me  what  you  were  doing  when 
I  came  in." 

"I  can't.  Joan.  Do  go  away.  It  was — nothing  of  any 
importance." 

"Oh.  Milly — I  mean  Millicent — please,  yi/iw.sr  tell  me!  I 
do  so  want  to  know,  and  I  am  only  your  own  little  sister, 
who  never  did  you  any  harm,  ami  «ho  wants  to  know  so 
much.  Won't  you  tell  me?" 

Joanna  had  slipped  down  on  the  Hour  by  her  sister's  side. 
One  arm  she  threw  across  Millicent,  the  other  went  under 
the  sofa,  pillow.  In  a  moment  the  morocco  blank-hook  was 
in  her  hand.  She  clutched  it  tightly.  If  she  only  dared 
draw  it  out,  run  away  with  it,  and  read  it!  Peggy  would 
have  done  it  without  any  hesitation  whatever,  but  then 
Joanna  was  not  Peggy. 

Millicent  looked  at  her  pensively.  Sympathy  is  pleasant, 
part  ieiilarly  to  a  poet,  and  she  felt  sure  that  Joan,  if  any- 
one, would  appreciate  some  of  the  beauties  of  her  verse. 

"  I  really  believe  I  will,"  she  said  at  length  ;  "  only,  Joan, 
I  don't  want  Peggy  to  know  anything  about  it.  Peggy 
does  laugh  so  at  everything.  Not  that  there  is  anything 
to  laugh  at  in  these  little  poems  of  mine — for  they  are  real 
poems,  Joan.  Do  you  know  I  actually  write  poetry?  Did 
you  ever  have  any  idea  of  it?" 

"I  am  not  a  bit  surprised."  declared  Joan.  ''In  fact,  I 
was  almost  sure  of  it.  I  am  so  glad  you  an-  going  to  let 
me  see  them.  They  are  in  this  book,  aren't  they  .'  Oh, 
Milly — I  mean  Millicent — think  of  your  being  a  poetess! 


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Do  hurry  ii|>.     Shall  I  read  them  myself,  or  will  you  read 
them  to  me  ?" 

"I  will  read  them  aloud.  I  ca.u  do  it.  with  more  expres- 
sion, probably,  for  I  know  just  where  to  put  the  emphasis, 
and  it  makes  a  great  difference  in  poetry.  I  ofien  think 
that  if  1  could  only  take  them  myself  to  the  editors  of  the 
magazines  and  read  the  poems  to  them,  they  would  be  more 
apt  to  take  them." 

"Of  course  they  would,      lint  do  you  mean  to  say.  Mil 
cent,  that  you  have  really  sent  anything  to  the  magazine*.' 

''Certainly  I  have.  I  want  recognition,  but  somehow 
tliev  don't  seem  to  suit." 

"'llo\v  hateful!"  exclaimed  Joan,  with  a  sympathy  that 
warmed  her  sister's  heart.  "But  do  hurry  up  and  read 
them.  I  am  dying  to  hear  what  you  have  written." 

Miilicenl  opened  the  book  and  turned  over  the  pages. 
She  could  not  quite  decide  which  she  should  cjioose  as  her 
first  selection.  Before  she  had  made  it, however,  there  was 
a  tap  at  the  door,  and  then,  without  waiting  for  a  reply,  a 
tall  girl  of  sixteen  came  into  the  room. 

Again  the  morocco-bound  book  went  under  the  sofa  pil- 
low, and  Joanna  could  not  suppress  an  exclamation  of  dis- 
appointment. 

'•What's  the  matter?  What's  lip  ?"  said  their  cousin 
Pe"".v,  glancing  quickly  from  one  to  the  other.  "  Secrets  .' 
Now  that's  not  a  bit  fair,  to  have  secrets  from  me.  I've 
got  oceans  of  things  to  talk  about:  but,  first  of  all,  I  met  the 
postman  just  as  I  was  coming  in.  and  he  gave  me  this  for 
you,  Mill.'  This  huge  envelope,  and  addressed  in  your  own 
'handwriting.  It's  awfully  mysterious,  and  I  am  just 
about  wild  with  curiosity.  You  must  tell  me  what  it  is.' 

A  blank  look  came  overMilliceut's  face,  but  she  took  the 
letter  and  said  nothing. 

"Oh,  come,  now,  aren't  you  going  to  tell  us?"  continued 
Peggy.  "  I'll  never  tell." 

"Do,  Millicent!"  urged  Joanna.  "If  it's— if  it  has  cany- 
thing  to  do  with  what  we  were  talking  about  when  Peggy 
came  in,  you  may  as  well  tell.  I  want  Peggy  to  know- 
about  it,  and  I'm  sure  she  would  like  to  hear  them  too." 

"Hear  them  '!  What  in  the  world  is  it  ?  Oh,  I  kuou  ! 
I  know!"  cried  Peggy;  "yon  have  been  \\riting  and  send- 
ing things  to  the  magazines!  Oh,  Milly.  <7o  show  me!" 

"jlilliceut  looked  at  her  long  and  doubtfully. 
never,  never  tell  ?"  she  asked  at  last. 
"Never,  on  my  oath  !" 

"I  believe  I  will  tell  you,  then,  for  I  do  think  it  is  the 
meanest  thing  in  those  editors,  and  I  just  want  to  see  what 
they  have  said  this  time,  whether  they  have  answered  my 
note." 

She  opened  the  envelope  and  drew  forth  several  papers, 
one  of  which  appeared  to  be  a  printed  one. 

"No,  they  haven't.  They  have  just  sent  the  same  old 
slip  they  always  do,  thanking  me  ever  so  much  for  send- 
ing the'  poems,  and  it.  may  not  be  because  they  are  not 
..,md  i  hat  they  send  them  back,  but  because  they  have  so 
many  I  lungs  on  hand.  Oh  dear,  I  think  they  might  have 
answered  ii  !" 

"What  did  you  say  in  your  note?"  asked  Peggy. 
"Oh,  I  told  them  that  I  thought  these  poems  were  per- 
fectly suited   to   their  magazine,  and  so  they  are.     And 
asked  them  to  tell  me  of  a  good  place  to  send  them  if  they 
couldn't  take   them.     I  do  think  the  man  might  have  had 
the  politeness  to  answer  my  note." 

"Well,  do  let  us  hear  them,"  put  in  Peggy,  briskly. 
am  wild  to  know  what  they  are  like." 

Millicent  again   looked   at    her   doubtfully.      Bnt    in    : 
moment  she  took  a  more  upright  position  on  the  sofa,  and 
holding  her  pretty  head  a  little  to  one  side,  she  remarked  : 
"This   is  a  little  poem  on  something  which  is  very  ta- 
miliar   to  us,  but    I   like   the   idea    of   idealizing   familiar 
things."     Then    she   paused.     "Oh,  I  don't  believe   ] 
read  it,  after  all,"  she  said,  in  au  embarrassed  way;  "it  is 
very  hard  to  read  your  own  productions." 

"'Then  let  me  read  it,"  cried  Peggy,  attempting  to  seize 
the  paper. 

"  X,,,  no  !     I  would  rather  do  it  myself  than  have  you, 
said  Millicent,  and  presently  she  coughed  hesitatingly  and 
began.     "  It  is  about  the  mosquito,  and  is  called 


•'  LINES  TO  A  Mosyrno. 
'  When  day  is  done,  and  darkness  comes  shadowing  down   the 


And   Xi'-lit   with  her  rustling  winglets  blots  out  the  garish  day, 
We  hear  the  song  of  an  iusect  singing  its  musical  lay. 

"  Oh,  insect  with  wings  that  flutter  !  Oh,  insect  on  murder  intent, 
Oh.  creature,  we'd  love   thee  dearly  if  thou   wert   not  on  blood- 
shed bent ! 
And  we'd  bear  with  thy  visits  gladly,  we  e'en  would  be  content. 

"Then  cease  thy  busy  prattle,  and  cease  thy  dangerous   slings, 
Learn,  learn  to  be  meek  and  lamblike  like   other  less  -  harmful 

th  i  n  gs, 
Till  we  hail  with  joy  thy  coming,  thy  coming  on  peaceful  wings !' 

Here  the  poem  ended,  and  the  reader  paused  for  the  ap- 
plause which  she  felt  to  be  her  due.  Peggy  had  turned 
aside,  and  was  leaning  her  head  upon  her  hand  so  that 
Millicent  could  not  see  her  face.  Joan  was  the  lirst  to 
speak. 

••Millicent, how  perfectly  lovely!  Did  yon  really  do  it 
all  yourself?  Yon  are  the  smartest  thing  I  ever  knew. 
That  benimiing  was  just  too -perfect.  Somehow  it  remind- 
ed me  of  something  else." 

"Longfellow,  probably."  said  Millicent  ••When  day  is 
done,  and  darkness  comes  shadowing  down  the  way,'  is  sug- 
gestive of  him." 

••  All  except  the  '  shadowing,' "  said  Peggy. 
"No;  I  made  that   word   up."  returned    Millicent,  with 
complacency.      "Poets   are   obliged    to    coin   words  some- 
times.     What  do  yon  think  of  the  poem.  Peggy  .'" 

••Wonderful!"    replied    her    cousin,   in    a    stifled    voice. 
-How  did  yon  think  of  asking  a  mosquito  to  be  like  alamb  ?" 
She  turned  away  again,  and  her  shoulders  shook  con- 
vulsively. 

"Do  read  the  other!"  cried  Joan,  enthusiastically. 
don't  see  how  yon  ever  make  them  rhyme  so  beautifully." 
"  Oh,  that  is  easy  enough,"  said  Millicent,  much  pleased. 
"Whenever  I  don't   know  just  what  to  put  I  look  in  my 
rhyming  dictionary  for  a  word." 

"Rhyming  dictionary  .'"  repeated  Peggy,  at  last  uncover- 
ing a  crimson  face.  "  Do  poets  use  rhyming  dictionaries?" 
""  Of  course.  They  are  obliged  to  very  often,  and  it  saves 
so  much  time  and  thought,  you  know.  Xow  this  is  a  son- 
net. It  is  my  favorite  form  of  verse.  I  suppose  you  both 
know  that  a  sonnet  must  be  just  fourteen  lines?'1 

"Oh,  I  know,"agreed  Peggy,  amiably,  " and  there  are 
other  rules  about  it,  too." 

"Well, that  one   is  the  most  important,  about  the  four- 
teen lines.     I  don't  pay  much  attention  to  the  other  rules. 
I  think  rules  hamper  you  when  you  are  composing." 
"Oh!"  said  Peggy. 

"  This  is  called  'A  Sonnet  to  the  Moth  Miller,'  "  continued 
Millicent : 

"  Oh,  little  creature,  made  so  fair,  so  white. 

What  seekest  tliou  about  my  closet  door? 
To  see  thee  fills  no  soul   with  deep  delight, 

Thy  coming,  almost  all  men  do  deplore. 
So  silent  and  so  fatal  is  thy  task 

We  haste  to  catch  thee,  bring  the  camphor  forth, 
To  kill  thee  quite  stone-dead  is  all  we  ask, 

Thou  little  quiet  woollen-loving  moth! 
We  crush  thee,  east  the  atoms  to  the  wind, 

Stamp  underfoot,  and  tread  thee  with  the  heel. 
Oh,  tell  me!     Dost  thou  really  truly  inindy 

Can  little  frail  white  creatures   lik,-   thee  feel? 
What  are  thy  thoughts,  and  what  emotions  thine? 
To  know  thy  feelings,  dear  white  moth,  1  pine !" 

WhenMillicent's  pathetic  voice  ceased  there  was  silence 
in  the  room,  and  then  from  the  table  upon  which  Peggy's 
head  was  resting  came  peal  after  peal  of  laughter. 

••  ( >h,  do  excuse  me,  Milly!"  she  cried,  as  soon  as  she  could 
speak.  "I  didn't  mean  to  laugh,  but  it  struck  me  as  so 
awfully  funny,  don't  you  know.  •  About  your  closet  door,' 
aud  bringing  tbe— the— camphor  forth.  Oh,  oh,  moth-balls 
are  better,  and  you  might  have  put  in  something  about  the 
smell!  Ha,  ha.'ha  !"  and  Peggy  fairly  shrieked  with  laugh- 
ter as  she  held  her  side  and  rocked  to  and  fro.  "  Oh,  do  ex- 
cuse me !  Bnt— but— I  can't  h— help  it !  It's— the  funni- 
est thin"  I  ever  heard!  At  least  it  isn't  really, but  it  just 


PEGGY    FAIRLY    SHRIEKED    WITH    LAUGHTER    OVER  THE    POEM. 


struck  me  so.  And — ami — if  you  cau  treail  a  moth  under 
your — your  heel,  you're  terribly  smart.  Oh,  Mill,  Mill !" 

"There  !"  said  Millieeut, rising,  aud  thrusting  her  papers 
into  a  drawer  in  her  desk,  and  turning  the  key  with  an 
angry  snap.  "I  knew  just  how  it  would  be.  I  believe 
you  would  laugh  at  my  funeral." 

"Oh  no,  indeed,  I  wouldn't.  Milly — not  at  your  funeral. 
But  really,  you  know,  it  just  struck  me.  I  think  the  rhymes 
are  perfectly  splendid.  Don't  you,  Joan  ?" 

"  Indeed  I  do,"  cried  Joanna;  "  and  I  don't  see  what  you 
saw  to  laugh  at.  I  think  they  are  beautiful,  Millieeut. 
Aren't  you  going  to  read  some  more?" 

"  No,  indeed.     Never !" 

''  I  wish  yon  would  write  a  poem  about  Cousin  Appolina," 
said  Peggy.  "Hateful  thing!  She  might  take  at  least  one 
of  us  abroad  with  her.  if  not  all  three.  She  has  such  loads 
of  money,  and  no  one  to  spend  it  on  but  herself." 

"  Probably  she  u-ill  lake  one  of  us,"  observed  Joan. 

"  It  won't  be  me,  then,"  said  her  cousin,  positively,  but 
ungrammatically;  "she  hates  me  like  fury.  It  will  be  one 
of  you.  Well,  it  wouldn't  be  much  fun  to  dance  attendance. 
on  Cousin  Appolina  if  she  should  happen  to  have  a  cranky 
fit.  Mill,  I  know  you  are  mad,  for  yon  haven't  spoken  a 
word  since  I  laughed.  Do  forgive  me.  Ami,  tell  me,  what 
are  yon  going  to  send  to  the  fair?" 

"  I  have  nothing  to  send," replied  Millieeut, rather  shortly. 

"Send  your  poems!  Brilliant  idea!"  exclaimed  the  in- 
corrigible Peggy.  "Have  them  printed  on  separate  slips 
of  paper,  and  sign  some  queer  name,  and  say  a  member  of 
the  congregation  wrote  them,  and  see  how  they  take." 

"I  don't,  care  to  have  you  make  any  more  fun  of  me  aud 
my  writings,"  said  Millicent,  with  great  dignity. 

"No  fun, honor  bright!  Only  I  wish  yon  would  put  in 
one  about  Cousin  Appolina  Briggs.  If  you  don't,  I  believe 
I  will.  Yon  could  lend  me  your  rhyming  dictionary  to  do 
it  with,  and  I  believe  I  could  write  a  poem  as  well  as — any- 
body. But  haven't  you  got  anything  on  hand  that  you 
don't  want,  in  the  way  of  fancy-work,  that  yon  might  send?" 

"I have  those  worsted  slippers  Cousin  Appolina,  gave  mo 
for  Christmas.  They  are  in  the  box,  just  as  she  sent  them." 

"The  very  thing!    Who  wants  her  old  worsted  slippers? 


And  fairs  are  always  full  of  them.     And  you  will  have  you? 
poems  printed  and  send  them,  won't  yon,  dear  child?'' 

Her  cousin  did  not  see  the  gleam  of  mischief  which  came 
into  Peggy's  eyes  as  she  said  this.  Millicent  was  ponder- 
ing the  situation  too  deeply.  Peggy  had  never  dreamed 
until  now  that  she  would  take  the  proposition  seriously. 

"I  believe  I  will, "said  the  poetess,  after  some  minutes' 
pause,  interrupted  only  by  the  admiring  Joanna,  who  urged 
her  sister  to  act  upon  Peggy's  suggestion.  "  It  would  give 
me  the  recognition  I  want.  They  can  be  sold  at  five  cents 
a  copy,  and  if  I  see  people  buying  1  shall  know  that  they 
are  liked,  and  then  some  day  I  might  have  some  published 
in  a  book.  Thank  yon  ever  so  much,  Peggy,  for  thinking 
of  it.  I  will  sign  them 'Pearl  Proctor,' just  as  I  do  those 
that  I  send  to  the  magazines,  and  no  one  will  ever  know 
who  it  is.  I  will  have  them  type-written  on  attractive  pa- 
per. And  I  will  send  Cousin  Appolina's  shoes.  She  won't 
be  home  from  Washington  until  after  the  fair,  and  she  will 
never  know.  They  had  really  better  be  doing  some  good." 

"  She  wouldn't  recognize  them,  anyhow  ;  she  is  so  near- 
sighted that  even  that  gold  lorgnette  wouldn't  discover  her 
own  stitches.  Well,  good-by,  girls.  I'm  going." 

Unknown  to  her  cousins,  Peggy  slipped  away  with  the 
rhyming  dictionary  under  her  arm.  She  had  discovered  it 
on  the  table, and  the  opportunity  was  too  good  to  be  wasted. 

She  crossed  the  street  to  her  own  home  and  retired  to- 
her  own  room,  from  which  she  did  not  emerge  for  an  hour 
or  more.  At  dinner  that  night  her  family,  had  they  looked 
at  her  with  attention,  might  have  discovered  an  additional 
expression  of  mischief  in  her  eyes  and  :i  satisfied  look  on 
her  face.  But  fortunately  one's  family  are  not  apt  to  notice* 

"If  I  thought  there  was  the  least  chance  of  Cousin  Ap- 
polina choosing  me  to  go  abroad.  I  might  not  run  the  risk," 
she  said  to  herself;  "  but  she  wouldn't  take  me  on  any  ac- 
count. Besides,  she'll  never  hear  of  this,  and  it  will  be  such, 
fun  to  paralyze  Milly.  Just  fancy  her  taking  me  in  earnest, 
and  sending  her  poems  to  the  fair!  Oh,  oh  !  What  a  dear 
old  innocent  she  is!  It  is  a  shame  to  tease  her,  but  I  just 
can't  help  it.  Pearl  Proctor!  Pearl  Proctor!  what  naughty 
deed  is  about  to  be  perpetrated  in  thy  name!" 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


450 


SNOW-SHOES    AND    SLEDGES. 

A    Sequel    to    "The    Fur-Seal's    Tooth." 
BY     KIRK     M  U  X  R  O  E, 

AutHOR   OF    "  DORYMATES,"    "  CAMPMATES,"    "  RAFTMATES,"    "  CANOEMATES,"    ETC. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 
JALAP   COOMBS'S   KOURTKEX  PAIR  OF   FKET. 


F  course,  Mr.  Coombs,  yon  can't  ex- 
l>c-ct  us  to  go  baclc  to  St.  Mich- 
aels non', "began  Phil,  as  a  pre- 
liminary to  unfolding  his  scheme 
for  the  discomfiture  of  Simon 
Goldollar  and  his  unprincipled 
companion. 

"Why  riot?"  demanded  the 
sailor,  who  had  not  for  a  mo- 
ment expected  anything  else. 
"As  soon  as  I  found  ye  I  were 

to  bring  ye  to  St.  Michaels,  ami  keep  ye  there  till  your 
father  comes.  Them's  orders,  and  to  disobey  'em  would  be 
mutiny,  nigh  as  I  kin  make  out." 

'•  That  would  be  all  right  if  you  had  found  us ;  but  you 
haven't." 

"  Eh  ?"  queried  Jalap  Coombs.  ''  I  hain't  found  ye  ?" 
"Certainly  not,"  laughed 
Phil.  "  Instead  of  you  rind- 
ing us,  we  have  found  you. 
If  yon  had  struck  us  at  Au- 
vik,  it  is  possible  that  \ve 
might  have  gone  back  with 
you,  but  as  we  have  found 
yon  some  four  hundred 
miles  from  there,  we  shall 
•certainly  do  nothing  of  the 
kind.  You  see,  to  begin 
with,  \ve  are  under  the 
greatest  of  obligations  to 
Captain  Hamer,  who,  by- 
the-way,  is  one  of  the  fiiiest 
men  I  ever  met." 

Here  Phil  told  of  the  ter- 
rible experience  he  and 
Serge  had  undergone  in 
Bering  Sea,  and  of  theirgal- 
lant  rescue  by  Gerald  Ha- 
mer, all  of  which  the  ab- 
sorbed listener  uow  heard 
for  the  first  time. 

"Now,"  continued  the 
lad,  "  we  have  left  him  just 
Tecoveriug  from  a  danger- 
ous illness,  and  unfitted  to 
travel  for  some  months.  If 
he  can't  get  word  out  to  the 
coast  before  spring  he  will 
be  a  heavy  loser.  So  Serge 
and  I  have  undertaken  to 
•carry  and  deliver  the  mes- 
sage for  him.  Our  entire 
outfit,  down  to  the  very 
clothing  we  wear,  was  fur- 
nished by  him  on  that  con- 
dition. It  is  also  our  duty 
to  try  and  defeat  the  plans 
of  his  enemies,  who  are  also 
our  enemies,  and  now  seem 
to  have  become  yours  as 
well.  So  you  see  we  are  in 
liouor  bound  to  push  on 
with  all  speed.  Besides  all 
this,  we  certainly  ought  to 
be  able  to  reach  Sitkalong 
Jjefore  my  father  cau  get 


away  from  there,  and  so  save  him  a  long,  tedious,  and  use- 
less journey." 

"I'm  not  so  sartain  of  that,"  demurred  Jalap  Coombs. 
"For  ye've  been  trying  to  make  Sitka  long's  ever  I've 
knowed  ye,  which  is  going  on  a  year  no\v.  and  hain't  come 
anywhere  nigh  to  it  yet.  Still,  as  my  old  friend  Kite  K'oh- 
erson  useter  say,  'Jalap,  my  son,  alters  steer  by  san-nin- 
stances;  for  as  a  giueral  thing  they'll  p'int  straighter  'u  a 
compass,'  and  I  am  free  to  admit  that  your  present  sarcum- 
stanees  is  p'intiug  pretty  direct  towards  Sitka.  But  how 
do  ye  propose  to  sarenmvent  the  villyans  what  run  off 
with  my  dogs  ?" 

"Now  you  are  talking  straight  business,"  laughed  Phil. 
"As  I  understand  it,  the  main  object  of  those  fellows  is  to 
capture  the  next  season's  trade  of  the  Yukon  Valley,  and 
especially  of  the  diggings  at  Forty  Mile,  by  taking  advance 
orders  at  lower  rates  than  the  old  company  has  ever  before 
offered.  Even  then  their  prices  are  certain  to  be  exorbi- 
tant, and  with  Gerald  Hauler's  list  I  am  certain  lean  un- 
derbid them.  But  that  won't  be  of  anv  use  unless  we  can 


•KIKMCK." 


457 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


be  first  in  the  field,  for  after  the  orders  are  given  and  eon- 
tracts  signed  those  other  chaps  could  langli  at  us  and  our 
prices.  So  our  only  hope  is  to  reach  Forty  Mile  ahead  of 
them." 

"  Wlii ch  ye  can't  do  it  -without  wings  or  steam,"  objected 
.lalap  Coombs,  "seeiug  they's  got  two  good  days'  start." 

••I  wouldn't  care  if  they  had  six  days' start,"  answered 
Phil.  "I  am  coufideut  that  we  could  still  beat  them  with 
just  ordinary  snow-shoes  and  sledges  and  plain  everyday 
North  American  dogs.  They  have  gone  around  the  great 
arctic  bend  of  the  Yukon,  haven't  they?  And  so  have  a 
journey  of  at  least  seven  hundred  miles  ahead  of  them  be- 
fore  they  reach  Forty  Mile." 

'•Yes. ''replied  Jalap.  "They  said  as  it  were  the  only 
navigable  channel." 

"  Well.it  isn't,  for  I  know  of  another  that  is  equally  good, 
and  two  hundred  miles  or  so  shorter.  Y'ou  see,  there  is  a 
big  river  coming  from  the  southeast  and  emptying  into  the 
Yukon  somewhere  in  this  vicinity,  called  the  Tananah." 

"That's  right,"  assented  the  sailor,  "for  I've  already 
passed  its  mouth  twice  about  half-way  between  here  and 
where  the  >'/.  Miclnn'h  is  friz  in." 

"  Good  enough,1'  said  Phil.     "  Now  by  following  this  Ta- 

nnnah  for  two  or  three  hundred  miles,  and  taking  u[ -  of 

its  eastern  branches  that  is  called,  the  Gheesah,  or  some 
such  name,  and  crossing  a  divide,  we  can  strike  the  head- 
waters of  Forty  Mile  Creek." 

"Aud  sail  down  with  the  current,  run  into  port  under 
a  full  press  of  canvas,  and  capture,  the  market  afore  the 
enemy  heaves  in  sight!"  exclaimed  Jalap  Coombs,  enthu- 
siastically, his  practical  miud  quick  to  note  the  advantages 
of  Phil's  scheme.  "But  what's  to  become  of  me?"  he 
added,  anxiously.  "  Kin  ye  fit  me  out  with  a  new  pair  of 
feet  ?" 

"Certainly  -we  can,"  replied  Phil,  promptly.  "We  can  fit 
you  out  with  fourteen  new  pair,  and  will  guarantee  that 
thus  provided  you  will  be  able  to  travel  as  last  as  the  rest 
of  us." 

"Fourteen  pair  o'  feet?"  repeated  Jalap  Coombs,  reflect- 
ively. "  and  slow  shoes  on  every  pair?  Seems  tome,  son,  you 
must  be  calkilating  to  run  me  under  a  kind  of  a  santipede 
rig,  which  it  looks  like  the  strain  on  the.  hull  would  be  too 
great.  As  for  navigating  fourteen  pair  of  slow  shoes  all 
to  once,  I  don't  reckon  old  Kite  hisself  could  do  it.  Still, 
if  you  think  it  can  be  did,  why,  go  ahead  and  try  it  on.  I'm 
agreeable,  as  the  cat  said  after  he'd  swallowed  the  cap'u's 
wife's  canary." 

So  Phil's  plan  was  adopted  without  a  dissenting  voice, 
and  from  that  moment  Jalap  Coombs  said  nothing  more 
about  a  return  to  St.  Michaels. 

That  very  evening,  leaving  Serge  to  see  what  could  be 
done  for  the  sailor-man's  lameness,  and  taking  Kurilla  with 
him  to  act  as  interpreter,  Phil  visited  several  Indian  huts. 
At  these  he  finally  succeeded  in  purchasing  enough  furs 
and  moose-hide  for  a  huge  sleeping-bag,  which  the  several 
squaws,  who,  under  promise  of  a  liberal  recompense  in  tea, 
undertook  its  construction  promised  should  be  ready  by 
morning.  Phil  also  bought  an  immense  pair  of  arctic 
sleeping-socks,  and  an  extra  supply  of  snow-goggles. 

When  he  told  Knrilla  of  their  change  of  plan,  and  that 
they  intended  going  up  the  Tauauah,  the  latter  replied,  du- 
biously :  "Me  plenty  don't  know  um.  Maybe  git  lose. 
Yaas." 

"  Oh,  that  '11  be  all  right,"  answered  Phil,  cheerfully. 
"You'll  plenty  know  nm  before  we  get  through  with  nin, 
and  whenever  you  dou't  know  which  way  to  go,  just  come 
and  ask  me." 

When  he  returned  to  the  house  he  found  Serge  boiling 
with  indignation.  "Do  you  know,"  he  cried,  "that  Mr. 
Coombs  has  walked  all  the  way  from  St.  Michaels  without 
pads  in  his  boots,  because  those  other  fellows  told  him  his 
feet  would  toughen  quicker  if  he  didn't  use  them  ?  The 
consequence  is  they  are  simply  raw  from  blisters,  and  every 
step  he  takes  must  be  like  treading  on  knives." 

"  It  has  been  tedious  at  times,"  admitted  Jalap  Coombs. 
"And  under  the  sarcumstances  I  don't  know  but  what  I'd 
ruther  have  one  pair  of  feet  than  fourteen,  or  even  half  the 
number." 


"Isn't,  it  good  to  have  old  Jalap  with  us  once  more?" 
asked  Phil  ut 'Si-rye,  after  they  had  turned  in  that  night. 

"  Indeed  it  is;  but  do  you  notice  how  he  has  changed?" 

"1  should  say  1  had.  He  is  like  a  salt-water  tish  sud- 
denly dropped  into  a  fresh-water  pond.  He'll  come  out  all 
right,  though,  especially  if  we  can  only  get  his  feet  into 
shape  again." 

That  night  the  mercury  fell  to  59°  below  zero,  and  the 
next  morning  even  Phil,  impatient  as  he  was  to  proceed, 
had  not  the  heart  to  order  men  or  dogs  out  into  that  hitter 
air  before  sunrise.  With  that,  however,  the  mercury  began 
slowly  to  rise,  anil  when  it  had  crept  np  19°,  or  to  only  40° 
below,  the  young  leader  declared  the  weather  to  be  warm 
enough  for  anybody.  So  he  ordered  the  sledges  to  be  u"t 
ready,  and  when  the  one  drawn  by  his  own  team  came. 
dashing  up  to  the  door,  he  announced  that  Mr.  Coombs's 
fourteen  pair  of  feet  were  at  his  service.  He  also  politely 
requested  the  sailor-man  to  crawl  into  a  big  fur-lined  bag 
with  which  the  sledge  was  provided,  and  make  himself 
comfortable. 

"But,  Phil,"  demurred  the  other,  "I  ain't  no  passenger  to 
be  tucked  np  in  a  steamer-cheer  on  deck.  I'm  shipped  fur 
this  Vy'ge  as  one  of  the  crew." 

"Very  well,"  replied  Phil.  "Then  of  course  you  will 
obey  orders  without  a  murmur,  for  I  remember  hearing  you 
say,  when  we  were  aboard  the  Xeameic,  that  even  if  a  cap- 
tain were  to  order  his  whole  crew  to  knit  bedquilts  or 
tidies,  they'd  be  bound  to  obey  to  the  best  of  their  ability." 

"  Sartain,"  admitted  the  other.  "I  got  that  from  old 
Kite  Roberson,  which  bedquilts  and  tidies  were  his  very 
words."  Then,  without  further  remonstrance,  the  ciippled 
sailor  stepped  to  the  sledge,  slid  feet  first  into  the  big  bag, 
and  lay  there  like  an  animated  mummy,  with  the  hood, 
of  his  parka  drawn  close  about  his  face.  Its  encircling 
fringe  of  long  wolf  hair,  added  to  his  preternatural  gravity 
of  countenance,  gave  him  such  a  comical  expression  that 
the  boys  could  not  help  shouting  with  laughter  as  Kurilla 
cracked  his  great  whip  and  the  dogs  sprang  away  with 
their  new  burden. 

Phil  took  the  lead,  as  usual,  and  when  they  reached  the 
month  of  the  Tananah,  which,  on  account  of  its  broad  ex- 
pause,  there  was  no  chance  of  mistaking,  he  turned  into  it 
without  hesitation,  and  in  a  few  minutes  they  bad  taken 
their  last  view  of  the  Yukon  for  many  a  long  day. 

At  its  mouth  the  Tanauah  is  nearly  three  miles  broad,  or 
as  wide  as  the  Yukon  itself,  and  is  filled  with  islands,  on 
which  are  stranded  quantities  of  uprooted  trees  of  greater 
size  than  any  seen  on  the  Yukon  above  that  point. 

The  bitterness  of  the  cold  continued  nuabatecl,  and  the 
sledge  party  had  hardly  lost  sight  of  the  Yukon  ere  the 
young  leader  heard  himself  hailed  from  the  rear,  and  paused 
to  see  what  was  wanted. 

"I  say,  Cap'u  Phil,"  began  Jalap  Coombs,  with  chatter- 
ing teeth,  "is  it  your  orders  or  desire  that  your  men  should 
freeze  to  death  ?" 

"  Certainly  not,"  laughed  the  lad. 

"  Then,  sir,  I  has  the  honor  to  report  that  this  member  of 
the  crew  is  already  froze  solid  half-way  up,  with  ice  mak- 
ing fast  through  the  remainder  of  his  system." 

"  That  is  entirely  contrary  to  orders,"  replied  Phil,  stern- 
ly, "  and  must  be  stopped  at  once.  So,  sir,  put  your  helm, 
to  port,  and  run  for  yonder  timber." 

Half  an  hour  later  poor  Jalap  was  being  outwardly 
thawed  by  a  roaring  fire  of  great  logs,  and  inwardly  by 
cupful  after  cupful  of  scalding  tea,  which  moved  him  to  re- 
mark that,  according  to  his  friend  Kite  Eoberson,  tea  and 
coffee  were  the  next  best  things  to  observations  of  the  sun. 
for  determining  latitude. 

C  H  A  P  T  E  U    XVIII. 

c  HKISTMAS   ON  THE   TANANAH. 

"LooK  here,"  said  Phil,  referring  to  the  mate's  last  sur- 
prising statement,  "  wasn't  your  friend  Mr.  Robinson  in  the 
habit  of  drawing  the  long  bow  ?" 

"No,"  replied  Jalap  Coombs,  in  surprise  at  the  question  j 
"  he  couldn't  abide  'em." 

"  Couldn't  abide  what  ?" 


458 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"  Bows,  nor  yet  arrers,  since  when  he  were  a  kid  some 
boys  put  up  a  game  on  him  that  they  called  William  Tell, 
which  alters  did  seem  to  me  the  foolishest  game,  seeing 
that  his  name  warn't  William,  but  Kite,  and  he  waru't  ex- 
pected to  tell  anything,  only  just  to  stand  with  a  pumpkin 
on  his  head  for  them  to  shoot  their  bow-arrers  at.  Waal. 
the  very  fust  one  missed  the  pumpkin  and  plunked  pom- 
Kite  in  the  stnmmick,  after  which  he  didn't  have  no  use 
for  a  long  bow  nor  a  short,  bow,  nor  yet  a  bow  of  any  kind." 

"I  don't  blame  him,"  laughed  Serge.  "But  we  would 
very  much  like  to  know  how  he  determined  latitude  by  tea 
and  coffee." 

"  Easy  enough."  was  the  reply.  "  You  see,  tea  is  drunk 
mostly  in  cold  latitoods  similar  to  this,  aud  coffee  iu  warm. 
The  higher  the  latitood,  the  hotter  and  stronger  the  tea, 
aud  the  less  you  hear  of  coffee.  At  forty-five  or  there- 
abouts they's  drunk  about  alike,  while  south  of  that  coffee 
grows  blacker  and  more  common,  while  tea  takes  a  back 
seat  till  you  get  to  the  line,  where  it's  mighty  little  used. 
Theu  as  you  go  south  of  that  the  same  thing  begins  all 
over  again  ;  but  there's  not  many  would  notice  sich  things, 
aud  fewer  as  would  put  'em  to  practical  use  like  old  Kite 
done." 

"  Mr.  Coombs,"  said  Phil,  "  you  sound  pretty  well  thawed 
out,  and  if  that  is  the  case  we'll  get  under  way  again." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir!"  responded  the  mate,  thrashing  his  long 
arms  vigorously  across  his  chest  to  restore  circulation,  and 
then  slipping  resignedly  into  his  fur  bag.  "Anchor's  apeak, 
sir."  And  away  sped  the  sledges  up  the  broad  level  of 
the  Tamilian. 

Every  member  of  the  party  had  by  this  time  become  so 
thoroughly  broken  in  to  his  duties,  that  when  they  made 
camp  that  night  the  promptness  with  which  it  was  pre- 
pared, as  well  as  the  ensuing  comfort,  was  a  revelation  to 
Jalap  Coombs,  who  declared  that  there  had  been  nothing- 
like  it  iu  the  camps  of  the  other  party. 

"Of  course  not,"  said  Phil,  "  for  they  haven't  got  Serge 
Belcofsky  along,  so  how  could  their  comfort  equal  ours  ?" 

At  this  Serge,  covered  with  confusion,  replied,  "Non- 
sense, Phil!  Yon  know  it  is  because  we  have  got  such 
capital  campiiien  as  Kurilla  and  Chitsah  with  us." 

At  this  the  face  of  the  elder  Indian  beamed  with  pleasure. 
He  did  not  exactly  understand  the  conversation  ;  but  be- 
lieving that  he  ought  to  make  some  reply,  he  pointed  to  Ja- 
lap Coombs,  and  looking  at  Phil,  remarked  : 

"  Yon  fadder.     Yaas." 

But  the  journey  up  the  Tananah  was  by  no  means  an  un- 
broken record  of  swift  uiovings  from  one  comfortable  camp 
to  another,  or  of  jokes  and  pleasantries.  The  days  were 
now  at  their  shortest,  so  that  each  could  boast  only  about 
four  hours  of  sunlight,  aud  even  that  was  frequently  ob- 
scured by  fierce  storms,  when  the  howling  winds  cut  like 
knives,  and  it  required  every  ounce  of  Phil  Ryder's  pluck 
as  well  as  Serge  Belcofsky's  dogged  determination  to  keep 
the  little  party  in  motion.  The  feet  of  the  poor  dogs 
were  often  so  pierced  by  ice  slivers  that  their  tracks  were 
marked  with  blood.  The  older  and  more  experienced  would 
bite  at  these  and  pull  them  out.  Others  would  howl  with 
pain,  while  some  would  lie  down  and  refuse  to  work  until 
they  were  put  in  boots,  which  were  little  bags  of  deer-hide 
drawn  over  their  feet  and  fastened  with  buckskin  thongs. 

It  was  a  journey  of  constant  and  painful  struggle  and 
of  dreary  monotony,  each  day  being  only  the  same  endless 
succession  of  ice-bound  river,  snow -covered  hills,  and 
sombre  forest.  Especially  depressing  was  the  night  of 
the  24th  of  December,  when,  with  an  icy  wind  moaning 
through  the  tree-tops  of  the  subarctic  forest,  and  the 
shivering  dogs  edging  toward  the  fire  for  a  share  of  its 
grateful  warmth,  Phil  aud  Serge  and  Jalap  Coombs  re- 
minded each  other  that  this  was  Christmas  eve.  Never 
before  had  Phil  spent  one  away  from  home,  nor  had  the 
others  ever  been  so  utterly  removed  from  the  cheering  in- 
fluences of  the  joyous  season.  So  Phil  described  what  he 
knew  was  taking  place  iu  far-distant  New  London  at  that 
very  hour,  and  Serge  told  of  merry  times  iu  quaint  old 
Sitka,  while  Jalap  Coombs  recalled  many  a  noble  plum 
duff  that  had  graced  Christmas  feasts  far  out  at  sea,  uni  il 
they  all  grew  homesick,  aud  Cually  crawled  into  their 


sleeping-bags  to  dream  of  scenes  as  remote  from  those  sur- 
rounding them  as  could  well  be  imagined. 

As  they  always  selected  a  camping-place,  and  prepared 
for  the  long  night  by  the  hist  of  the  scanty  daylight  or  in 
the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  so  they  always  resumed  their 
journey  by  the  moonlight  or  starlight,  or  even  in  the  darkness 
of  two  or  three  o'clock  the  next  morning.  On  Christmas 
morning  they  started  as  usual  many  hours  before  daylight, 
and,  cither  owing  to  the  vagueness  of  all  outlines  or  because 
his  thoughts  wen-  far  away,  tin-  young  leader  mistook  a 
branch  for  the  main  river,  and  headed  for  a  portion  of  the 
mighty  wilderness  that  no  white  man  had  ever  yet  ex- 
plored. 

About  noon  they  passed  a  forlorn  native  village  of  three 
or  four  snow-covered  huts,  the  occupants  of  which  gazed 
at  the  unaccustomed  sight  of  white  travellers  in  stolid 
amazement.  They  had  gone  nearly  a  mile  beyond  this  sole 
evidence  of  human  occupation  to  be  found  iu  many  a  weary 
league  when  Phil  suddenly  stopped. 

"Look  here!"  he  exclaimed,  "  what  do  you  two  say  to 
going  back,  making  a  camp  near  that  village,  and  having 
sum.-  sort  of  a  Christinas  after  all?  It  doesn't  seem  right 
for  white  folks  to  let  the  day  go  by  without  celebrating  it 
somehow." 

As  the  others  promptly  agreed  to  this  proposition  the 
sledges  were  faced  about,  and  a  few  minutes  later  the  music 
of  Musky's  jingling  bells  again  attracted  the  wondering 
natives  from  their  burrows. 

Camp  was  made  on  a  wooded  island  opposite  the  village, 
and  while  the  others  were  clearing  the  snow  from  a  space 
some  fifty  feet  square,  and  banking  it  up  on  the  windward 
side,  Phil  took  his  gun  and  set  forth  to  hunt  for  a  Christmas 
dinner.  An  hour  later  he  returned  with  four  arctic  hares 
and  a  brace  of  ptarmigan  or  Yukon  grouse  whose  winter 
plumage  was  as  spotless  as  the  snow  itself. 

He  found  Serge  and  Jalap  Coombs  concocting  a  huge 
plum  duff,  while  from  the  brass  kettle  a  savory  steam  was 
already  isMiing.  Kurilla  and  Chitsah  had  chopped  a  hole 
through  four  feet  of  ice  and  were  fishing,  while  a  few 
natives  from  the  village  hovered  about  the  outskirts  of  the 
camp  watching  its  strange  life  with  curious  interest. 

They  were  very  shy,  and  moved  away  when  Phil  ap- 
proached them,  seeing  which  he.  called  Kurilla  and  bade 
him  tell  them  that  a  present  would  be  given  to  every  man, 
woman,  and  child  who  should  visit  the  camp  before  snnsrt. 

At  first  they  could  not  comprehend  this  startling  propo- 
sition, but  after  it  had  been  repeated  a  few  times  the 
youngest  of  them,  a  mere  boy,  uttered  a  joyous  shout  and 
started  on  a  run  for  the  village.  A  few  minutes  later  its 
entire  population,  not  more,  than  twenty-five  iu  all,  includ- 
ing babes  in  arms,  or  ralher  in  the  hoods  of  their  mother's 
parkas,  came  hurrying  over  from  the  mainland  filled  with 
eager  expectancy. 

To  every  man  Phil  presented  a  small  piece  of  tobacco,  to 
every  woman  a  handful  of  tea,  and  to  every  child  a  biscuit 
dipped  in  molasses.  With  each  present  he  uttered,  very 
distinctly,  the  word  "Christmas."  At  length  one  child, 
though  whether  it  was  a  boy  or  a  girl  he  could  not  make 
out,  for  their  fur  garments  were  all  exactly  alike,  looked 
up  with  a  bashful  smile  and  said,  "  Kikmuk."  In  a  minute 
all  the  others  had  caught  the  word,  and  the  air  rang  with 
shouts  of  "  Kikmuk,"  mingled  with  joyous  laughter. 

Then  they  all  trooped  back  to  the  village,  shouting 
"Kikmuk"  as  they  went,  and  so  long  as  they  live  the, 
word  will  be  associated  in  their  minds  with  happiness  and 
good-will.  Three  of  them,  a  man  and  two  women,  after- 
wards returned,  bringing  with  them  a  pair  of  dainty  moc- 
casins, a  fox-skin,  and  an  intestine  filled  with  melted  fat, 
which  they  timidly  presented  to  Phil.  Serge,  and  Jalap 
Coombs  respectively.  The  last-named  regarded  his  gift 
rather  dubiously,  but  accepted  it  with  a  hearty  "  Kikmuk," 
and  remarked  that  it  would  probably  be  good  for  his  feet. 
which  it  afterward  proved  to  be. 

These  three  were  invited  to  dine  with  Kurilla  and  Chii- 
sah,an  invitation  which  they  accepted,  and  so  became  the 
guests  of  the  Christmas  dinner.  On  their  side  of  the  fire 
the  feast  consisted  largely  of  the  fish  the  Indians  had  just 
caught,  to  which  were  added  unstinted  tea  and  a  liberal 


459 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


supply  of  the  plum  dufl".  On  the  other  side  were  mock-tur- 
tle soup  <<  la  can,  baked  fish,  rabbit  fricassee,  roast  grouse, 
plum  dnft',  hard  bread,  tea,  and  cocoa — all  of  which  com- 
bined to  form  what  Phil  pronounced  to  be  the  very  best 
Christinas  dinner  he  had  ever  eaten,  in  which  sentiment 
Serge  and  Jalap  Coombs  heartily  concurred. 

Even  the  dogs  were  giveu  cause  to  rejoice  that  Christ- 
mas had  at  length  come  to  their  snowy  laud  by  receiving 
a  double  ration  of  dried  fish,  which  put  them  into  such 
good  spirits  that  they  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  night 
in  a  rollicking  game  of  romps.  Ou  the  Indian  side  of  the 
fire  unwonted  good  cheer  so  overcame  the  shyness  of  the 
villagers  that  the  man  ventured  to  ask  questions  regarding 
the  intentions  and  destination  of  this  sledge  party  of 
strangers.  When  these  were  stated  by  Kurilla  he  re- 
mained silent  for  a  minute.  Theu  he  delivered  a  long  and 
animated  speech. 

As  a  result  of  this,  and  when  it  was  finished,  Kurilla  left 
his  own  side  of  the  fire,  aud,  approaching  Phil,  said, 

"You  go  Forty  Mile?" 

"  Yes.     We  all  going  to  Forty  Mile,  of  course." 

"No  like  urn  Tauanah  ?" 

"Certainly  I  like  the  Tanauah  well  enough.  I  shall  like 
it  better,  though,  when  we  have  seen  the  last  of  it." 

"No  cau  see  uui  now." 

"  Why  not  ?     There  it  is  right  out  yonder." 

"No.  Him  Kloot-la-ku-ka.  Tanauah  so"  (pointing  to 
the  way  they  had  come).  "You  go  so  way  "  (pointing  up- 
stream) ;  "  get  lose,  mebbe  ;  no  fin  ;  plenty  bad.  Yaas." 

So,  all  on  account  of  keeping  Christmas,  and  trying  to 
bring  a  little  of  its  joy  into  the  hearts  of  those  children  of 
the  wilderness,  Phil's  mistake  was  discovered  before  its 
consequences  became  disastrous,  and  he  was  once  more  en- 
abled to  place  his  little  party  on  the  right  road  to  Sitka. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


LIFE=BLOOD  OF  A  GREAT  CITY. 

HOW  NEW  YORK  GETS  ITS  WATER. 

BY  JULIAN  RALPH. 

THE  furnishing  of  water  to  millions  of  human  beings  in 
a  city,  and  the  arrangements  for  giving  it  to  them  as 
they  want  it,  whether  merely  by  the  glassful  or  in  the  pro- 
fusion with  which  it  is  used  in  a  brewery,  are  among  the 
most  wonderful  achievements  of  civilization.  Imagine  the 
way  men  live  when  they  break  their  way  into  a  new  coun- 
try; that  is  the  only  manner  in  which  we  can  measure  the 
convenience  of  a  modern  water  supply.  I  have  seen  the 
settlers  on  the  Canadian  plains  walking  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
— perhaps  half  a  mile — to  the  Bow  River  to  fill  a  bucket 
with  water  with  which  to  cook  and  with  which  to  supply 
drink  to  a  household.  Bathing,  as  we  understand  the  term, 


AQUEDUCT  TUNNEL  UNDER  THE  HAHLEM. 


was  only  to  be  done 
by  going  to  the  same 
river  and  plunging 
in — during  the  few 
months  when  the 
river  water  was 
warm.  Thus  it  must 
have  been  with  the 
first  Hollanders  who 
settled  Manhattan 
Island.  In  time  they 
dug  wells  in  the 
ground,  aud  then 
came  that  more  lav- 
ish use  of  the  splen- 
did fluid,  attended 
by  such  economy  as 
used  to  lead  the 
Dutch  mothers  to 
scold  the  children 
with  that  admoni- 
tion we  still  may 
hear  in  the  country, 
"Do  you  think  the 
servant-girl  has  no- 
thing to  do  but  to 
carry  water  up  stairs 
for  you  to  waste  it  as 
you  do  f" 

Did  the  render 
ever  see  a  medical 
or  anatomical  chart 
of  the  human  body, 
showing  the  arteries 
and  veins  that  carry 
the  blood  from  our 
hearts  to  every  main 
aud  every  minute 
part  of  our  bodies? 
How  like  a  tree  it 
looks,  with  its  main 
stem  or  trunk,  with 
its  great  branches, 
with  its  delicate 
boughs  and  switches 
aud  twigs.  Well,  a 
Crotou- water  chart  of  the  system  by  which  a  river  is  brought 
to  our  bedrooms,  iustead  of  our  having  to  go  to  the  river 
with  our  buckets,  would  be  just  such  another  complicated, 
marvellous, treelike  object,  only  I  really  think  it  would  be 
more  astonishing  in  one  sense,  because  it  is  so  wholly  the 
hard  brain-work  of  man  instead  of  the  mysterious  divine 
creation  of  the  Almighty,  whose  works  are  so  profound  that 
their  wonders  do  not  surprise  us  so  much  as  when  man 
produces  something  a  tenth  part  or  a  thousandth  part  as 
extraordinary. 

If  we  could  cut  away  all  the  earth  of  the  island,  leaving 
the  water-mains  bare,  and  if  we  could  tear  down  all  the 
buildings  of  the  city  so  as  to  allow  the  water-pipes  to 
stand  up,  bare  and  naked,  just  as  they  now  stand  up  in 
their  covers  of  brick  aud  plaster,  I  suppose  the  sight  of 
that  wonderful  forest  of  big  aud  little  pipes  would  be  as 
surprising  as  auythiug  that  any  human  being  ever  saw. 
Just  try  to  fancy  Manhattan  Island  all  under  a  tangle  of 
towering  pipes  aud  crisscrossed  tubes,  aud  then,  while  we 
are  about  it,  just  1'anry  a  lot  of  savages  landing  here  and 
tampering  with  those  pipes  uutil  one  of  them  should  touch 
some  cock  and  turn  on  the  water.  What  a  raiu  there 
would  be,  in  big  streams  and  middling  streams  and  tiny 
little  streams,  out  of  millions  of  fixtures !  No  shower  bath 
that  was  ever  conceived  or  heard  of  would  compare  with 
it.  And  yet — see  bow  small  and  weak  man  is,  after  all — it 
would  not  begin  to  equal  an  ordinary  rain-storm. 

Of  water  mains — or  big  pipes  sunk  in  the  streets  to  dis- 
tribute the  Crotou  water  from  the  reservoirs — there  are  no 
less  thau  715  miles,  but  when  the  reader  thinks  how  at 
every  twenty -five  feet  smaller  pipes  branch  out  of  the 
mains  to  carry  the  water  to  every  floor  of  every  building 


MAP    OF    CROTON    AQUEDUCT. 


400 


RESERVOIR    IN    CENTRAL    PARK. 


and  sometimes  to  every  office  or  room,  he  will  see  that  of 
smaller  pipes  there  must  be  tens  of  thousands  of  miles, 
making  up  that  grand  tree  which  is  as  much  the  "tree  of 
life"  of  a  great  city  as  the  arterial  system  is  the  tree  of 
life  of  each  of  our  bodies.  To  carry  oft'  the  water  that 
courses  through  all  these  thousands  of  miles  of  pipes  \ve 
have  456  miles  of  sewers — or  much  bigger  pipes ;  some  of 
which  men  can  walk  through  or  even  paddle  a  boat  in. 

One  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  when  New  York  was 
considered  rather  an  ancient  town,  the  people  got  their 
water  for  drinking  from  the  "collect,"  where  the  Tombs 
prison  stands,  and  from  the  little  springs  and  streams  that 
ran  into  that  pond.  A  very  few  had  wells,  public  or  pri- 
vate, near  their  houses.  It  was  not  until  1750  that  pumps 
were  set  up  to  make  the  getting  of  water  easier.  It  will 
surprise  the  reader  to  know  that  hundreds  of  these  old 
wells  still  remain  upon  the  island.  Two  or  three  still  have 
pumps  affixed  to  them,  and  are  used  for  giving  drink  to 
horses,  but  the  rest  are  covered  over  and,  in  most  cases, 
their  existence  is  forgotten.  It  is  not  possible,  even  in  case 
of  war,  when  our  water  supply  might  be  cut  off,  that  we 
will  ever  revert  to  the  use  of  these  wells,  for  they  yield  a 
polluted  water  that  is  as  bad  to  drink  as  poison.  Just 
before  the  Revolutionary  War  a  man  named  Colles  built  a 
little  reservoir  above  the  City  Hall,  but  it  yielded  such  bad 
water  that  the  people  who  could  afford  to  do  so  bought 
water  that  was  hawked  in  the  streets  from  carts.  It  was 
not  until  1842,  when  we  had  a  population  of  350,000  souls, 
that  New  York  got  its  water  systematically  and  in  such 
plenty  that  mothers  did  not  scold  their  children  and  May- 
ors did  not  remonstrate  with  the  people  for  wasting  it. 

New  York  has  never  been  a  boastful  city.  It  never  has 
filled  the  world  with  the  noise  of  its  greatness  or  the  pa- 
rade of  its  wonderful  achievements.  Its  Broadway  is  the 
longest  thoroughfare  iu  Christendom,  I  believe;  its  sus- 
pension-bridge is  only  excelled  by  one  bridge  of  another 
kind;  its  actual  size  and  population  are  second  to  those 
of  but  one  city ;  but  such  facts  one 
must  glean  from  the  encyclopae- 
dias and  the  letters  of  travellers. 
The  New-Yorkers  say  nothing 
about  them.  Therefore  it  is  but 
little  known  that  the  aqueduct 
which  carries  our  water  to  us  is 
the  greatest — many  times  the 
greatest  —  tunnel  in  the  whole 
world.  It  is  more  than  thirty- 
three  miles  in  length,  and  far  from 
being  a  mere  trench,  averages  a 
depth  of  170  feet  below  the  sur- 
face, and  is  iu  places  380  feet  un- 
derground. It  is  from  ten  to  thir- 
teen feet  high,  and  averages  near- 
ly as  great  a  width.  Its  way  is 
hewn  through  solid  rock  in  places, 
and  it  is  everywhere  built  of 
brick  and  granite.  It  passes  un- 
der several  rivers,  and  at  the  Har- 
lem Eiver,  the  northern  boundary 
of  this  island,  it  is  in  the  shape 
of  a  siphon  upside  down,  sloping 
for  1300  feet  under  the  river,  and 
then  rising  400  feet  straight  up 


through  the  Manhattan  Island  bank  of  the  stream.  It  cost 
nearly  $27,000,000,  and  it  brings,  without  pumping,  by  the 
incline  of  the  tunnel,  nearly  100  gallons  of  water  a  day 
for  each  of  the  1,900,000  persons  in  the  city,  or  about 
171,000,000  gallons  of  water  a  day  for  all  of  us.  It  is  a 
solid  cube  of  water  running  at  the  rate  of  two  miles  an 
hour,  eight  or  ten  feet  thick,  and  ten  or  a  dozen  feet  high. 
We  are  iu  the  habit  of  saying  that  the  water  we  drink 
comes  from  Croton  Lake,  thirty  miles  north  of  the  city  in 
\Vfstchester  County,  but  that  is  only  a  part  of  the  truth. 
The  fact  is,  that  Croton  Lake  was  made  by  damming  the 
Crotou  River  when  our  system  was  begun  in  1835—42.  We 
now  take  that  water,  and  the  water  oi' several  other  lakes, 
ponds,  and  rivers  that  are  in  a  great  valley  or  depression 
in  the  earth  called  the  Crotou  watershed.  We  keep  stored 
up  and  ready  for  use  about  17,000,000,000  gallons  of  water 
in  the  following  natural  and  artificial  reservoirs:  Crotou 
Lake,  Lake  Mahopac,  Lake  Gilead,  and  Kirk  Lake,  Mid- 
dle Branch,  East  Branch,  Bog  Brook,  and  Barrett  1'ond. 
Their  names  sufficiently  describe  the  character  of  these 
great  goblets  of  crystal  water  which  nature  and  man  have 
arranged  for  the  needs  of  the  great  city.  But  these  are  so 
insufficient  that,  although  it  is  believed  we  could  draw 
250,000,000  gallons  a  day  even  in  dry  weather,  we  are  going 
to  take  into  our  system  three  more  reservoirs,  which  will 
allow  us  to  store  13,000,000,000  gallons  more  than  we  cau 
store  at  present.  And  as  even  these  will  not  long  supply 
our  growing  needs,  we  are  about  to  build  the  greatest  dam 
the  world  ever  saw.  It  is  already  called  the  Quaker  Bridge 
dam.  It  is  to  be  built  five  miles  south  of  Croton  Lake, 
back  of  the  town  of  Sing  Sing,  where  the  great  State-prison 
is.  It  will  be  a  great  pyramidal-shaped  wall  of  solid  ma- 
sonry'264  feet  high,  and  1500  feet  long,  and  will  cost,  the 
officials  think,  at  least  $6,000,000.  When  it  is  finished,  a, 
magnificent  rich  farming  country  will  be  flooded  and  turned 
into  one  immense  glass  of  water  for  old  Father  Knicker- 
bocker (as  we  call  our  patron  saint)  and  his  children.  The 


THE   OLD    WAY. 


461 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


•water  that  will  bank  up  against  that  dam  will  rise  up 
•over  many,  many  farms  and  Louses  and  barns  and  villages 
I'm-  a  distance  of  DO  less  than  sixteen  miles,  and  the  present 
dam  at  Croton  Lake  will  be  thirty-five  feet  uuder  tlie  sur- 
face of  the  water.  Now  we  store  17.1 .1. .MOO  gallons  of 

\\ater,  lint  then  we  will  have  a  liquid  treasure  of  84,600,- 
000,000  gallons. 

We  are  apt  to  think  about  water  as  free  because  Nature 
evidently  intended  that  it  should  cost  no  more  than  fresh 
air.  And  so  it  is  free,  so  long  as  we  are  satisfied  to  use 
very  little,  and  to  go  and  dip  up  that  very  little  out  of  a 
stream  and  carry  it  to  our  homes.  But  when  we  demand 
the  full  fruits  of  modern  civilization,  when  we  insist  upon 
the  building  of  huge  dams  and  vast  reservoirs  and  tnnuels 
and  pumping-stations,  we  must  buy  the  water  they  bring 
in  order  to  pay  for  the  cost  of  the  convenience.  What 
we  pay  in  New  York  amounts  to  about  81  75  a  head  for 
every  man,  woman,  and  child  in  the  city,  or  more  than 
$3,000,000  a  year.  This  great  tax,  called  the  "  water 
rents, ''is  used  to  pay  the  interest  ou  the  debt  we  owe  for 
our  aqueduct,  to  keep  the  system  in  repair,  and  to  swell  a 
-sinking  fund  which  we  have  established.  The  water  rents 
are  not  paid  according  to  the  amount  of  water  each  person 
uses,  but  for  the  quantity  that  passes  into  each  house,  of- 
fice building,  factory,  brewery,  and  stable.  The  house- 
owners  each  pay  between  four  dollars  and  eighteeu  dollars 
a  year,  and  the  men  who  use  great  quantities  —  such  as 
brewers,  makers  of  mineral  water,  sugar  refiners,  and  the 
like — in  the  course  of  their  business  all  pay  special  rates, 
which  seem  very  large  indeed  when  we  read  the  sums  in 
print. 


efl   li-  niiflwh-r  liny -lueation  on  the  subject  eo  far  as  possible.     Correspondents  should 
address  Editor  Camera  Ciub  Department. 

MEMORY  ALBl'.MS. 

WHAT  a  wonderful  thing  the  memory  is!  Grandmamma, 
who  eoimt.s,  perhaps,  her  threescore  years  and  ten,  sees  a 
pieee  of  faded  calico,  and  her  mind  goes  back  to  the  time 
when,  a  little  girl  of  eight,  she  was  dressed  in  a  new  gown, 
of  which  this  faded  serap  is  a  remnant,  and  taken  to  to\\  n 
for  "general  training."  She  sees  again  the  soldiers  and 
the  officers  in  their  uniforms,  she  almost  smells  the  cards  of 
gingerbread,  and  hears  the  bustle  and  stir  in  the  streets. 
She  may  not  have  thought  of  this  special  day  for  long,  long 
years,  but  this  bit  of  calico  has  brought  it  all  back  to  her 
memory. 

SINCE  THE  ADVENT  OP  CAMERAS  into  nearly  every  family 
one  has  the  opportunity  of  making  actual  pictures  of  festal 
occasions  which  occur,  such  as  the  birthday  parties,  the 
family  picnics,  John's  new  bicycle  and  his  first  unsuccess- 
ful attempt  to  ride  it.  the  Hallowe'en  frolic,  the  Christmas 
tret — any  special  day  or  event  can  be  preserved  in  gelatine, 
and  in  a  few  years  these  pictures  will  have  for  one  more 
interest  and  value  than  many  made  from  much  liner  nega- 
tives. Now  we  want  to  suggest  to  our  young  amateurs 
that  they  start  memory  albums  at  once. 

BEGIN  THE  ALBUM  BY  LOOKING  OVER  your  collection  of 
plates,  and  select  such  as  have  been  made  ou  special  occa- 
sions. From  these  make  prints,  and  lie  sure  and  look  up  the 
exact  date  on  which  the  picture  was  taken.  Do  not  reject  a 
"memory  picture"  because  it  is  not  as  clear  a  plate  or  the 
grouping  as  artistic  as  one  could  desire.  For  the  album 
itself,  buy  the  album  leaves  which  are  almost  as  cheap  as 
card  mounts,  and  they  can  be  added  to  from  time  to  time  as 


one  makes  new  pictures.  Arrange  your  pictures  in  chrono- 
logical order — that  is.  the  earliest  date  first,  etc.,  marking 
under  each  picture  its  proper  date. 

A  PERSON"  WHO  HAS  USED  A  CAMERA  for  two  or  three  years 
will  find  he  has  quite  a  number  of  "  memory  pictures,"  and 
oiie  who  starts  a  memory  album  should  make  it  a  rule  to 
add  the  pictures  to  his  collection  as  soon  as  they  are  made. 
One  can  use  blue  prints  for  such  albums,  for  a  good  blue 
print  seldom  fades  or  discolors,  while  aristo  or  albumen 
prints,  unless  very  carefully  finished,  are  apt.  to  grow  yel- 
low or  discolor.  In  after-years  our  memory  albums  will  be 
considered  of  as  much  value  as  any  of  our  possessions. 

Sin  KNIGHT  ALFREP  C.  BAKER  asks  "If  he  can  become  a  member  of 
the  Camera  Club,  and  what  are  the  duties  ot  a  member?"  We  shall 
be  very  giad  to  enroll  Sir  Alfred  a  member  of  our  Camera  Club,  and  a»  he 
says  he  o\vns  two  or  three  cameras,  and  finishes  his  own  pictures,  he  will 
doubtless  be  a  great  addition  to  our  club.  The  duties  of  a  member  have 
never  been  exactly  denned,  but  we  expect  our  members  to  tiike  an  active 
interest  in  the  work,  and  they  are  requested  to  send  to  the  club  any  new 
or  improved  way  of  doing  anything  in  photography.  We  also  want  each 
one  of  our  members  to  become  a  specialist  along  tome  special  line  of 
photographic  work.  We  hope  soon  to  organize  a  correspondence  and 
exchange  club.  Sir  Alfred  would  like  to  correspond  on  photography 
with  some  of  the  members  of  the  club,  lie  has  also  a  Kombi  camera 
which  be  \vould  like  to  sell  or  exchange. 


THE  MERRIEST   TIME. 

merriest  time?     Why,  kite-time, 
Or  the  time  for  playing  ball; 
Or  maybe  you  like  rolling  hoop 
The  very  best  of  all. 

But,  "  Here's  my  own  opinion," 

With  a  little  laugh,  cries  Moll. 
"The  best  is  when  I  take  a  walk. 
And  carry  my  parasol. 

"When  muffs  are  packed  in  camphor, 

And  tippets  put  away, 
When  you  needn't  always  wear  your  cloak 

In  the  middle  of  the  day. 

"  Y'es,  I  declare,  the  merriest  time," 

With  a  dimpling  laugh,  says  Moll, 
"  Is  when  I  go  to  take  a  walk, 


And  carry  my  parasol." 


M.  E.  8. 


A  MESSENGER-BOY'S  ADVENTURE.* 

BY    EDWARD    W.  TOWNSEND. 

DANNY  CAHILL  had  been  a  district  messenger  for  a 
year,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  been  on  every 
stieet  and  across  every  park  in  the  great  city  of  New  York. 
Mr.  Kean,  who  had  helped  him  to  become  a  newsboy, had 
secured  him  a  position  in  a  down-town  messenger  office, 
where  he  could  easily  learn  his  duties,  and  gradually  be- 
came acquainted  with  the  city,  for  most  of  his  "calls" 
there  were  from  offices  which  wanted  messengers  for  short 
errands,  and  lie  was  only  occasionally  sent  far  up  town. 
But  after  six  months  he  was  transferred  to  an  office  in  the 
fashionable  part  of  the  city,  near  Fifth  Avenue,  and  then 
he  began  to  go  on  long  journeys  which  gave  him  rides  on 
the  elevated  roads  from  one  end  of  the  city  to  the  other; 
"  from  the  Battery  to  the  Harlem  River,"  as  the  saying  is. 
The  work  was  hard,  though,  and  more  so  for  Danny,  be- 
cause, after  or  before  his  long  hours  ou  duty,  he  went  every 
day  or  night  to  the  school  in  the  Newsboys' Lodging-house 
where  he  lived.  If  he  had  been  on  night  duty,  no  matter 
how  late  he  had  been  up,  nor  how  many  miles  he  had  walked, 
he  was  at  school  the  next  morning,  and  if  on  day  duty,  he 

*  The  previous  articles  i;i  this  series,  published  in  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PKO- 
ri.it,  are  "  A  Streel-Waif'3  Luck,"  No.  792,  "Danny  Cahill,  Newsboy," 
No.  803. 


462 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


did  not  go  to  lied  until  lie  bad  attended  the  night  class.  I 
cannot  say  that  Danny  liked  this,  for  lie  would  much  rather 
have  gone  with  the  other  beys  on  their  pleasure  excursions 
tilinut  the  city,  hut  Mr.  Kean  had  urged  Danny  to  put  in  all 
the  time  he  could  spare  in  school.  He  promised  him  that 
if  he  did  so  he  would  find  him  a  hetter  position  when  he 
•was  far  enough  advanced  to  take  one. 

One  evening,  when  it  was  nearly  time  for  Danny  to  go 
off  duty,  a  messenger  call  came  in  the  office,  and  as  lie  was 
"  next"  he  had  to  answer  it.  It  took  him  to  a  hig  fashion- 
alile  house  where  he  had  often  been  before,  and  he  expect- 
ed as  usual  to  have  a  short  errand  with  a  note  to  some 
neighboring  house  or  shop.  But  when  a  servant  let  him 
into  the  big  hall  he  was  soon  joined  by  a  maid  who  gave 
him  a  bundle  to  carry,  and  told  him  ho  was  to  take  it,  and 
pilot  her  to  the  Tenement  Mission,  "  wherever  that  may  he," 
said  the  maid,  cro.s.-ly. 

Danny  knew  well  enough  where  it  was,  for  it  was  sit- 
uated duly  a  few  blocks  from  the  place  he  once  called 
"  home,"  where  he  had  lived  with  his  uncle  who  had  made 
him  beg,  and  whom  he  had  never  seen  since  the  day  he  es- 
caped, by  Mr.  Kcan's  aid,  from  the  policeman  who  had  ar- 
rested both  him  and  his  uncle. 

What  he  could  not  understand  was  what  so  grand  a 
house  as  he  was  then  iu  could  have  to  do  with  the  Tene- 
ment Mission,  and  he  said  so  to  the  maid  when  they  were 
on  the  street  walking  toward  the  Third  Avenue  elevated 
station. 

"  I  don't  wonder  at  your  surprise,"  said  the  maid.  "  The 
lad\  iii  charge  of  that  nasty  mission  is  the  young  lady  of 
our  house,  and  I'm  her  maid.  What  she  wants  to  go  down 
among  those  trash  for  I'm  sure  I  don't  know." 

"Say,"  exclaimed  Danny,  in  amazement,  "  de  yer  mean 
dat  Barstow  lives  win-re  we's  just  come  from?" 

"  Sure,  Miss  Barstow,"  answered  the  maid,  "  but  how  do 
you  know  ?" 

"Everybody  down  dare  where  I  useter  live  knows  her, 
and  calls  her  '  a  tenement  angel,'  "  Danny  replied.  "  But  she 
don't  dress  grand — not  so  grand  as  you." 

The  maid  laughed  at  this,  and  then  said  :  "  Well,  she  has 
a  right  to  dress  as  she  pleases,  and  go  where  she  pleases,  I 
suppose;  but  I  don't  know  what  right  she  has  to  telegraph 
me  to  come  down  there  with  jelly  and  wine  and  broth  that 
you  have  in  that  bundle.  I'll  just  tell  her  that  I  ain't  going 
to  nurse  any  of  her  poor  sick  she's  so  fond  of,  if  I  have  to 
give  up  my  place." 

"  Say,  I  guess  she  isn't  tiiikiii'  dat  you  won't  nurse  no- 
body," Danny  said,  "  because  she'd  get  fooled,  for  I  don't 
believe  you'd  know  how." 

"And  I  don't  want  to  know  how,"  snapped  the  maid. 

When  the  Tenement  Mission  was  reached  Miss  Barstow 
was  not  there,  but  a  note  had  been  left  for  the  maid  direct- 
ing her  to  come,  with  the  messenger,  to  an  address  which 
was  given. 

"Where  is  the  place?"  asked  the  maid,  showing  Danny 
the  note. 

"Oh, dat's  a  hack  tenement-house  iu  Roosevelt  Street," 
Danny  answered.  "  Dare  is  Italians  dare,"  he  added,  for  he 
knew  the  place  well,  his  old  home  -with  his  uncle  having 
been  in  the  same  block. 

"Is  it  any  worse  than  this?"  the  maid  asked,  in  a  voice 
which  showed  she  was  getting  frightened. 

"Dis  is  Fift' Avenue  compared  to  dat,"  Danny  said. 

The  girl  began  to  whimper,  and  said  at  last,  "  I  won't 
go.  I'm  scared  to  death  already.  I  won't  go  to  her  nasty 
sick  poor,  and  get  the  small-pox  and  everything  else." 

At  first  Danny  did  not  know  what  to  do.  He  tried  to 
persuade  the  maid  to  go,  but  she  was  thoroughly  frightened 
now,  and  half  hysterical.  Finally  Danny  took  up  the 
bundle,  saying  :  "  Well,  I'm  going,  anyway.  If  Miss  Bar- 
stow-  wants  dese  things  she  is  goiii'  to  have  dem,  and  you 
can  do  what  yon  like.  I  don't  tink  you  are  much  good  ex- 
cept for  show,  anyhow." 

"  I'll  stay  here  until  some  one  conies  and  takes  me 
home,"  cried  the  girl,  as  Danny  went  out  of  the  mission. 

It  was  dark  by  this  time,  but  Danny  knew  the  way  per- 
feetly.  He  found  the  low  narrow  entrance  to  the  front 
tenement,  went  through  that  to  a  little  stoue-pa'ved  court 


where  there  was  one  gas-lamp,  and  was  crossing  that  when 
a  couple  of  men  stopped  him,  and  demanded  roughly  to 
know  what  he  had  in  the  bundle. 

••Never  you  mind."  he  answered.  "It's  for  Miss  Bar- 
stow,  not  for  mugs  like  you." 

The  men  slunk  away  without  any  more  threats.  They 
•were  none  too  good,  but  they,  like  nearly  all  the  people  in 
that  neighborhood,  had  been  won  to  respect  Miss  Barstow, 
and  anything  which  belonged  to  her  was  almost  sacred  in 
their  eyes. 

lianny  continued  on  across  the  dimly  lit  court  into  the 
dark  entrance  of  the  rear  tenement.  At  the  door  of  the 
room  which  Miss  Barstow's  note  had  described  Danny 
knocked  softly,  and  was  admitted  by  her,  a  tall,  plainly 
dressed,  handsome  young  woman,  whose  kindly  face  was 
at  that  moment  clouded  by  anxiety.  She  seemed  surprised 
to  see  the  messenger  alone,  and  after  taking  the  bundle 
from  him  and  placing  it  in  a  chair,  she  stepped  out  iu  the 
hall,  closing  the  door  so  that  their  voices  would  not  dis- 
turb the  sick  people  inside,  and  heard  Danny's  story  of  the 
maid's  fright  and  desertion. 

Mi^s  Barstow  was  silent  for  some  time  before  she  said, 
and  there  was  no  anger  iu  her  voice: 

•'Perhaps  I  was  wrong  to  send  for  her.  I  would  not 
have  done  so,  but  all  my  assistants  are  busy.  But,"  she 
added,  after  a  pause,"!  must  have  some  assistance  until 
the  doctor  comes  again." 

"  Say,  what's  de  matter  wid  me  helpiu'  you,  lady  ?"  asked 
Danny,  promptly. 

Miss  Barstow  looked  at  him  in  the  half-light  the  hall 
lamp  gave,  and  then  said,  ([iiickly,  "  Yes.  Go  and  put  my 
maid  on  a  car  that  will  take  her  home,  and  then  come 
back  here." 

Danny  did  so,  and  was  pretty  soon  back  in  the  sick- 
room with  Miss  Barstow  and  her  two  patients.  The  room 
was  poor,  very  poor,  but  better  than  the  one  he  had  lived 
iu  with  his  uncle.  There  were  a  bed  and  a  cot,  some  chairs. 
a  rough  table,  a  cook  stove, and  a  few  cooking  and  table 
dishes. 

Iu  the  bed  was  an  Italian  woman,  and  in  the  cot  her 
daughter,  a  girl  about  twelve  years  old.  Both  were  sick 
with  a  fever  only  too  common  in  the  tenement  distiirt. 
The  husband  and  father  was  a  fruit  peddler,  who  had  what 
is  called  an  "  all-night  "  stand  on  the  Bowery.  The  man 
and  his  wife  alternated  with  each  other  in  attending  the 
stand,  and  it  was  exposure  to  the  cold  wet  nights  that  had 
brought  on  the  woman's  fever.  The  girl  had  been  a  scholar 
in  the  day-school  for  tenement  children  in  Miss  Barstow's 
Mi>siou,but  she  had  attempted  to  take  her  mother's  place 
at  the  stand  when  the  woman  was  taken  sick,  and  she,  too, 
soon  came  down  with  the  fever. 

It  was  while  making  inquiries  about  her  absent  scholar 
that  Miss  Barstow  had  found  the  patients  both  iu  bed,  and 
having  only  the  rough  care  the  man  could  give  them  dur- 
ing the  few  hours  he  could  leave  his  stand.  Danny  was 
soon  at  work  under  Miss  Barstow's  orders,  and  both  the 
patients  had  some  dainty  food  and  wine, and  every  aiien- 
tiou  to  make  them  comfortable.  Before  the  Doctor  arrived 
both  mother  and  daughter  were  sleeping  quietly,  and  Dan- 
ny found  himself  whispering  the  story  of  his  life  to  Miss 
Barstow,  who,  it  seemed  to  him,  had  the  kindest  way  of 
asking  questions  and  understanding  what  he  told  her  of 
any  person  in  the  world.  The  Doctor  smiled  when  he 
came  iu  at  midnight  and  saw  them,  and  Danny  blushed 
proudly  when  the  lady  told  the  Doctor  that  her  messenger 
had  proved  to  be  a  good  nurse  and  a  very  interesting  com- 
panion. 

The  Doctor  ordered  Miss  Barstow  to  go  home,  saying  he 
would  wait  there  until  the  husband  came.  When  MN- 
Barstow  had  paid  Danny,  she  asked  him  which  way  he 
was  going.  "I'm  goiu'  to  see  yon  home,  sure,"  Danny  an- 
swered, gallantly. 

They  had  lei't  the  tenements,  and  were  walking  up 
Roosevelt  Street,  when  a  man  standing  by  a  lamp-post 
stared  at  Danny,  and  then  exclaimed  : 

"Oh.  you  little  rascal!  I've  caught  yon  at  last!  Come 
along  home  with  me,"  and  he  grabbed  the  boy  roughly  by 
the  shoulder. 


463 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


DANNY    DISCOMFITS    THE    ASSAILANT. 


It  was  Danny's  uncle.  "  You've  got  fine  clothes,  and  are 
with  a  tine  lady,  while  your  poor  old  uncle  who  had  always 
given  you  a  good  honest  home  is  starving,"  lie  exclaimed. 

Some  men  who  bad  been  lounging  aljout  the  corner  rau 
up,  and  Cahill  declared  over  and  over  to  them  that  his 
boy  had  run  away  from  au  honest  home,  and  should  lie 
taken  back  and  help  to  support  his  old  uncle,  who  was  sick. 

Danny,  who  had  a  notion  that  his  uncle  really  had  some 
sort  of  right  over  him,  was  sick  and  disheartened  at  the 
prospect  of  going  hack  to  his  old  life,  but  he  had  had  his 
liberty  too  long  to  be  willing  to  give  it  np  without  a  strug- 
gle. He  was  a  stout  youngster;  his  constant  exercise  as  a 
messenger-boy  kept  him  in  good  physical  condition,  and  he 
made  a  good  resistance  to  his  uncle's  efforts  to  drag  him 
away. 

As  he  was  struggling,  Miss  Barstow  ran  to  him  and  ask- 
ed, "  Is  this  the  man  you  told  me  of — your  uncle?" 

"  Sure  ;  dis  is  de  mug,  and  he's  no  good,"  Danny  answer- 
ed, as  he  fought. 

"  Let  that  boy  go,"  she  said  to  Cahill,  sternly. 

"Not  for  you,"  responded  Cahill,  surlily. 

Miss  Barstow  stepped  to  where  the  light  fell  on  her  face, 
and  turning  to  the  crowd  of  men,  said:  "Some  of  you  must 
know  me.  I  want  yon  to  make  that  man  let  this  boy  go." 

"It's  Miss  Barstow,"  one  of  the  men  exclaimed.  Then 
he  added,  "What  you  say  goes  down  here,  lady,  mostly, 
but  not  in  this  case.  Cahill  has  a  right  to  the  boy's 
wages.  He's  a  good  man,  and  the  kid  ain't  going  to  get 
no  harm  by  going  along  with  him." 


Miss  Barstow's  knowledge  of  this 
class  taught  her  that  the  men  had 
all  been  drinking,  and  she  knew  that 
the  situation  was  serious.  She  had 
often  been  warned  that  she  was  in 
danger  of  just  such  experiences  as 
this,  but  until  now  had  been  saved 
from  danger  by  the  respect  that  the 
tenement  people  felt  for  her.  But 
these  were  not  even  tenement  peo- 
ple of  the  lowest  kind.  They  be- 
longed to  the  class  of  idlers  who 
skulked  about  the  saloons  in  that 
neighborhood  at  night,  and  begged 
during  the  day.  As  she  was  debat- 
ing what  she  should  do,  Danny 
managed  to  trip  his  uncle  hard  and 
break  away  from  him.  He  rau  to 
Miss  Barstow,  snatched  her  umbrel- 
la from  her  hand,  jumped  h 'tween 
her  and  the  man,  and  told  her  to 
run.  One  of  the  half-drunken  men 
lurched  toward  Danny,  but  sudden- 
ly halted  when  Danny  brought  the 
silver  head  of  the  umbrella  down  on 
the  fellow's  head  with  a  whack. 
That  was  more  than  he  expected, 
and  while  they  stood  irresolute 
Danny  and  Miss  Barstow  hurried 
away,  Danny  keeping  between  her 
and  the  enemy,  swinging  the  um- 
brella threateningly.  They  reach- 
ed the  elevated-road  station  with- 
out further  molestation,  and  Danny 
then  found  to  his  surprise  that  the 
woman  who  had  been  so  brave 
while  there  was  any  danger  was 
now  white  and  trembling,  and  nigh 
to  fainting. 

"It  was  not  that  I  was  afraid," 
she  said,  "  but  it  shows  me  that 
there  is  danger  for  me  down  there, 
and  that  I  must  give  up  my  night 
work  there." 

"  Why,  lady,"  said  Danny,  "  I  taut 
it  was  a  picnic  ;  anyway  it  was  good 
fun  when  I  cracked  dat  mug's  nut 
wid  dis  umbrella.  He'll  know  he 
was  in  a  tight  to-morrow." 

Danny  went  to  Miss  Barstow's  door  with  her,  and  thought 
that  would  be  the  last  he  would  hear  of  the  adventure. 
Three  days  later,  while  he  was  sitting  in  the  messenger 
office,  a  man  called  ou  him,  who  explained  that  he  was  the 
lawyer  for  Miss  Barstow's  society  which  supported  the 
Tenement  Mission.  He  had  had  Cahill  and  the  men  who 
had  been  with  him  that  night  arrested,  and  Danny  was 
wanted  as  a  witness  against  them  in  the  Police  Court. 

"And  now,"  said  the  lawyer,  when  he  had  explained 
about  the  arrest,  "tell  me  all  you  can  about  yourself,  and 
your  relations  with  Cahill.  Miss  Barstow  tells  me  that 
Cahill  may  have  some  legal  right  to  your  wages,  and  if  he 
has  we  want  to  give  you  another  guardian.  What  would 
you  think  of  me  as  your  guardian  ?" 

Danny  did  not  know  what  sort  of  a  thing  a  guardian 
might  be,  and  the  lawyer  explained.  It  was  Miss  Barstow's 
wish,  he  added,  that  Danny  should  have  a  proper  legal 
guardian,  and  he  would  look  into  the  matter,  and  do  all 
that  was  necessary  to  protect  Danny's  rights. 

So  it  came  about,  after  Danny  had  signed  a  lot  of  legal 
papers,  and  there  had  been  a  lot  of  petitions  and  motions, 
that  one  day  Danny  was  told  that  the  law  had  taken  notice 
of  such  an  unimportant  little  chap  as  he  was,  and  Miss  Bar- 
stow's agent  had  become  his  guardian,  and  Uncle  Cahill 
had  no  claim  on  Danny's  liberty  or  his  modest  little  ac- 
count in  the  Bowery  Savings-bank.  Danny's  comment  was : 
"  I  never  taut  I'd  get  to  be  such  a  swell  mug  as  to  have 
a  guardeen  all  by  me  lonely.  De  first  ting  you  know  I'll 
be  runnin'  for  President." 


46-1 


5INTERSCHOIfASTIC$ 


rTIHE  ACTION OFTHE  iNTKRSCHOLASTic  Athletic  Association 
X  in  passing  the  law  prohibiting  bicycle-races  at  all  fu- 
ture iu-door  meetings  held  under  the  rules  of  the  I.S.A.  A. 
cannot  be  too  highly  commended.  It  was,  of  course,  the  logi- 
cal outcome  of  the  occurrences  of  the  past  four  months,  but 
nevertheless  the  promptness  with  which  the  evil  was  abol- 
ished is  praiseworthy'.  Bicycle-races  as  an  in-door  s|>ort 
should  be  universally  done  away  with.  What  games  in 
the  past  season  have  not  been  marred  by  accidents  and 
collisions  in  that  event?  The  culmination  was  the  carry - 
iu»  away  of  W.  G.  Dunn  iu  an  ambulance  after  he  hail 
broken  his  collar-bone  at  the  Brooklyn  Poly.  Prep,  games 
last  March.  It  is  to  be  hoped,  now  that  the  good  work 
has  been  begun,  that  in  the  near  future  some  of  the  other 
peculiar  features  of  iu-door  meetings  will  receive  proper 
attention  at  the  hands  of  the  legislators.  I  do  not  believe 
that  Olympian  Zeus — or  whatever  enlightened  heathen 
god  it  was  who  invented  and  fostered  track  athletics — 
ever  intended  that  sprints  and  shot-putting  should  be  held 
under  a  roof.  He  surely  would  have  drawn  the  line  at 
bicycles,  had  lie  known  anything  about  them.  He  wisely 
preferred  the  less-murderous  four-horse  chariot.  But,  to 
my  mind,  track  athletics  were  never  intended  as  an  iu-door 
sport.  The  gymnasium  is  not  a  hippodrome.  But  more 
of  that  later.  Let  us  be  thankful  for  one  thing  at  a  time. 


I  AM  NOT  OPPOSED  to  what  some  timid  people  call  "rough 
and  dangerous"  sport.  Football  should  be  encouraged, by 
all  means,  although  it  may  justly  be  termed  "rough  and 
dangerous"  for  young  men  who  do  not  know  how  to  play. 
It  is  not  dangerous  for  those  who  do  know  the  game  and 
have  been  trained  to  take  part  in  it.  Yet  under  no  circum- 
stances is  it  a  sport  adaptable  to  evening  clothes  and  kid 
gloves.  If  it  were,  we  should  not  care  for  it  as  we  do. 
But  bicycle-racing — and  I  am  speaking  now  essentially  of 
in-door  racing  on  a  flat  floor — is  just  as  dangerous  for  ex- 
perts as  it  is  for  the  ignorant  and  the  novice.  More  so,  per- 
haps; for  a  novice's  timidity  will  protect  him  from  any  at- 
tempt at  riding  through  an  iron  girder.  The  dim  light  of 
an  armory  makes  it  difficult  for  a  rider  to  judge  angles  and 
distances,  especially  when  the  track  he  is  circling  is  marked 
solely  by  a  chalk  line  on  a  slippery  floor.  In  an  open  field, 
on  a  cinder  track  well  rolled  and  well  fenced,  it  is  a  very 
different  matter.  Should  a  rider  fall  there,  his  injuries  are 
limited  to  a  few  scratches  at  the  worst,  and  surgical  assist- 
ance is  unnecessary  in  such  a  case.  As  to  sprinting  and 
putting  the  shot  on  a  board  floor,  these  events  are  more  in- 
congruous than  harmful.  And  if  custom  has  made  them 
popular  as  in-door  sports,  I  am  willing  to  defer  to  the  dic- 
tum of  Custom,  until  Experience  shall  step  iu  aud  pro- 
nounce her  verdict. 

ANOTHER  GOOD  ROLE  ADOPTED  at  this  same  meeting  of 
the  I.  S.  A.  A.  was  that  proposed  by  Syme  of  Barnard, 
to  prevent,  when  possible,  two  boys  from  the  same 
school  starting  iu  the  same  trial  heat.  It  is,  unfor- 
tunately, not  uncommon  for  two  boys  from  the  same 
school  to  deliberately  pocket  a  rival  runner,  especially 
iu  events  like  the  220,  the  half-mile,  aud  the  mile.  Such 
practices  are  beneath  the  dignity  of  amateurs,  aud  it  is 
somewhat  of  a  disgrace  that  any  rule  should  be  required 
to  prevent  it.  But  if  the  managers  were  forced  to  recog- 
nize this  unsportsmanlike  tendency  on  the  part  of  even  a 
few  contestants,  it  is  to  their  credit  that  they  adopted  mea- 
sures to  put  a  stop  to  it.  Nothing  in  sport  to-day  is  more 
important  than  to  maintain  a  broad  and  honest  spirit  of 


fair  play,  for  without  such  a  spirit  interscholastic  athletics, 
and  every  other  kind  of  athletics,  are  bound  to  deteriorate. 

WIIII.K  SPEAKING  OK  THIS,  I  am  reminded  of  rumors  cur- 
rent in  Brooklyn  to  the  effect  that  cue  of  the  schools  in  the 
Long  Island  Interscholastio  League  has  secured  track  ath- 
letes and  baseball  players  by  ollering  them  half  tuition,  and 
in  one  case  free  tuition,  as  an  inducement  to  attend  that 
particular  institution.  This  is  a  very  ugly  story,  and 
should  not  be  credited  unless  very  positive  proof  of  its  ve- 
racity can  be  adduced.  The  only  ground  for  the  rumors, 
that  I  have  been  able  to  discover  so  far,  is  that  the  indi- 
viduals in  question  attended  other  schools  last  year.  But 
that  fact,  is  by  no  means  sufficient  to  warrant  the  asser- 
tion, or  even  the  insinuation,  that  the  change  they  made 
was  influenced  by  a  financial  consideration.  If  the  report 
is  unfounded,  it  is  almost  as  reprehensible  a:i  offence  against 
honest  sportsmanship  to  circulate  it  as  to  be  guilty  of  the 
dishonest  practices  alleged.  As  the  matter  stands  now, 
there  is  uo  doubt  that  somebody — either  the  school  in 
question,  or  the  other  members  of  the  league — is  suffering 
under  an  injustice. 

THERE  AKE  JUST  TEN  DAYS  for  practice  left  before  the 
Intel-scholastics.  The  many  school  games  of  the  past  two. 
weeks  have  shown  that  there  is  much  new  material  in  the 
field,  and  that  it  will  not  be  so  easy  to  pick  the  winner  of 
the  championship  as  might  have  been  supposed  earlier  in 
the  season.  The  struggle  for  supremacy  promises  to  be 
more  interesting  tuis  spring  than  ever,  and  I  have  little 
doubt  that  several  records  will  be  considerably  bettered. 
Barnard,  of  course,  w  ill  make  a  desperate  endeavor  to  carry 
oft'  the  honors  of  the  day,  and  thus  secure  a  full  title  to  the 
Intel-scholastic  Cup.  This  school  will  be  represented  by  a 


THE    NEW    YORK    INTERSCHOLASTIC    CUP. 

strong  team,  which  gives  good  promise  of  equalling  the 
record  of  last  year's  champions,  although  three  of  those 
1894  point-winners  are  not  back  this  year.  Of  the  38  points 


465 


HARPER'S   BOUND   TABLE 


which  won  tlie  (lay  for  Barnard  last  May,  lingers  made  16; 
Simpson,  6;  and  Feigenspan,  1 — in  all  23,  or  almost  two- 
tliinls  of  the  total  victorious  score.  Thus,  it  victory  perches 
on  the  Harlem  banners  next  week,  it  will  lie  din-  in  a  large 
measure  to  the  development  and  acquisition  of  new  ma- 
terial. 

AT  THE  SKMIAXNTAL  FiKi.D  DAY  of  the  Academic  Ath- 
letic League  of  the  Pacilic  Coast,  held  at  the'  Olympic  Cliil) 
Grounds.  San  Francisco,  <>ii  March  Kith  hist,  the  Oakland 
High-School  and  the  Berkeley  High-School,  with  o'J  poinls 
each  to  its  credit,  tied  for  first  place,  and  the  champion- 
ship was  consequently  awarded  to  the  former  for  having 
been  the  winner  the  previous  year.  The  struggle,  as  may 
well  he  imagined,  was  a  close  and  exciting  one  throng  In  ml. 
there  heiug  no  event,  except  perhaps  tbe  shot,  hammer,  and 
mile  run,  that  was  not  hotly  contested  to  the  end.  The 
( I.H.-S.  has  Vieeu  the  Coast  champion  for  sixteen  years  past, 
and  if  Cheek,  the  captain  of  the  team,  had  entered  this 


the  O.H.-S  sprinter.  He  is  slow  at  starling,  hut  his  endur- 
ance is  such  that  he  has  been  known  to  do  50  yards  iu  6£ 
seconds  on  a  dirt  track,  then  walk  back  to  the  start,  get  ou 
his  mark  and  repeat  the  performance;  ami  do  this  again  a 
third  ami  fourth  time.  He  took  the  220  in  2."i!  seconds, 
without  being  pushed,  but  came  in  a  foot  behind  Lipp- 
mann,  B.H.-S.,  in  the  100  on  account  of  his  .slowness  in  get- 
ting away  from  the  mark.  In  the  field  events  tin-  B.H.-S. 
walked  away  with  everything,  taking  all  the  points  in  the 
hammer  and  shot  events.  They  got  first  iu  the  broad. jump 
and  pole  vault,  and  tied  for  the  high  jump.  In  the  ham- 
mer, Lynch,  B.H.-S..  threw  104  feet  and  won.  and  was  going 
to  try  for  a  record,  when  the  attention  of  the  judges,  for 
some  reason,  was  distracted  by  the  exciting  Relay  race, 
and  so  Lynch  lost  his  chances  and  his  rights.  He  is  said 
to  have  done  1-J.~)  feet  in  practice.  On  the  whole  the  day 
was  a  notable  success,  and  the  scholars  of  California  showed 
themselves  sportsmen  of  the  true  stripe  in  the  enthusiasm 
and  energy  which  characterized  the  occasion. 


COMPARATIVE   T.U5LE    OF    NEW   YORK  AND   SAX   FRANCISCO   INTERsriIOI.ASTK    MEETINGS. 


Brent. 

i.  s.  A  A.  <;•  •-< 

>ew    Y.irk, 

it  the  Bti'K.-l.      '  '••  il, 

A.  A.  I-.  '•  -i  ' 
San  !•  i-:m-  i-'  0, 

vmpic  Club  Grounds, 

March  16,  IS'Ja. 

Winner 

Performance, 

Winner. 

Performnnce. 

1  0  2-5  s 

1  1  1  4-5  8 

H-infunl 

25  1-5  g 

1  0  2-5  •< 

19  1-4  s 

Syme 

27  1-5  s 

31  1-2  <* 

2  m.  10  1-5  s 

Rnea 

2  m.  I'u  •_'-.',  * 

Veiller 

5  in      5  1-2  s 

5ft.    9        in 

5  ft     3        in 

(  Baltiizzi   \ 

19  "      5         " 

Lloyd 

18  "     6          " 

\Vhitin-y 

10  " 

9  "     2          " 

Lloyd 

32   "     S          " 

Ball 

39  "      1          " 

Ball 

110  "      3  1-2   " 

Lloyd 

104    "             ^   " 

year.no  doubt  I  he  score  would  have  been  very  different. 
Cheek  is  a  .promising  all-round  athlete.  In  addition  to 
vaulting  and  jumping  lie  puts  the  shot  33  feet,  throws  the 
hammer  over  100  feet,  runs  the  100  iu  11  seconds,  gets  over 
the  high  hurdles  in  171  seconds,  and  the  low  hurdles-in  28 
seconds.  The  reason  given  for  his  non-entry  into  these 
sports  is  that  his  team  was  so  much  stronger  than  that  of 
any  of  the  other  schools  in  the  league,  that  the  O.H.-S.  pre- 
ferred to  contest  the  games  without  his  aid.  and  so  decide 
the  day  by  a  lew  points  only.  This  experiment  proved  a 
most  risky  one.  If  the  B.H.-S.  had  won  tin-  IJelay  race,  they 
would  have  taken  the  championship  by  the  score  of  55  to 
4--*.  Such  a  self-sacrificing  and  eminently  sporting  spirit 
as  Cheek's  is  something  1  have  not  yet  observed  in  the 
East.  The-  rules  governing  the  contests  of  the  A.A.L.  are 
somewhat  different  from  those  of  other  leagues.  The  team 
of  (  -ich  school  is  limited  to  seven  boys,  and  six  more  are  al- 
lowed to  enter  for  the  IJelay  race,  which  counts  as  au  extra 
event,  and  gives  10  points  to  the  winner,  (i  points  to  scc- 

I.  and  2  to  third.      There1   is  some  advantage  in  this  lim- 

itat  ion.  but  1  should  think  that  in  many  eases  it  would  op- 
erate unjustly.  Nevertheless,  it  is  a  great  preventer  of  that- 
worst  feature  of  our  Eastern  track-athletic'  games — count- 
less trial  heats  necessitated  by  unlimited  and  unrestricted 
entries. 

THE  HIGH  iintDi.F.s  were  the  occasion  for  a  hot  struggle 
between  Dawson,  O.H.-S.,  and  Hoppiu,  B.H.-S.  Dawsou  had 
never  run  the  full  course  before,  and  this  was  only  his  fifth 
attempt  at  clearing  the  sticks,  but  he  ran  well  and  breast- 
ed the  tape  in  191  seconds,  with  Hoppin  at  his  heels.  In 
the  first  heat  of  the  low  hurdles  Hoppin  won  in  l.ili  sec- 
onds. Dawsou  fell  at  the  seventh,  but  picked  himself  up 
quickly  and  finished,  thus  qualifying  for  tin-  finals,  which 
lie  won  iii  31-J  seconds,  with  Hoppin  third.  Dawson  will 
no  doubt  improve  greatly  within  the,  next  year,  and  I  con- 
fidently look  forward  to  see  him  smash  some  Coast  records. 
He  takes  the  hurdles  without  the  suggestion  of  an  effort, 
and  although  only  5  feet  5  inches  tall,  he  gets  in  the1  seven 
steps  without  any  trouble.  He  trained  for  the  half-mile 
earlier  in  the  spring,  and  so  attained  good  endurance.  An- 
other boy  with  this  quality  strongly  developed  is  Hanford, 


IT  IS  IXTEliESTIXG  TO 
note  the  records  made  ou 
this  occasion,  and  to  place 
them  alongside  of  the  per- 
formances of  our  Eastern 
scholars.  The  accompany- 
ing table  will  show  that, 
even  with  almost  a  year's 
advantage  in  the  compari- 
son, the  Californians  are  be- 
hind the  New-Yorkers  in 
every  event.  In  many 
events,  of  course,  the  records 
of  both  leagues  are  better 
than  i  lie  performances  made 
on  these  two  specific  oc- 
casions;  but  the  comparison  goes  only  to  show  that 
in  a  contest  between  Eastern  and  Western  schools, 
could  such  a  one  he  arranged,  there  would  be  but  lit- 
tle doubt  this  year  as  to  the  probable  winners.  Per- 
haps some  day  such  a  meeting  may  be  brought  about. 
What  might  be  called  the  lirst  step  in  that  direction  has 
already  been  taken  by  the  California  State  I'niversity 
team,  which  is  coming  East  next  month  to  take  part  in 
the  Intercollegiate  games  at  Molt  Haven.  In  a  year  or  so 
tin  I'aciiic  coast  schools  may  get  up  enthusiasm  and  enter- 
prise enough  to  follow  the  example  of  the  college  men  and 
seek  new  laurels  iu  the  East. 

IT  is  POSSIBLE  THAT  the  universal  interest  in  track  and 
field  sport.-,  which  has  so  rapidly  developed  iu  the  last  two 
years.  \\  ill  prove  harmful  to  baseball  and  tennis.  Already 
I  have  heard  several  complaints  from  captains  of  nines 
that  it  is  difficult  to  get  candidates  to  come  out  and  try  for 
positions  ou  the  team,  because  almost  every  boy  who  has 
any  ambition  for  athletic  honors  is  ruuuiug  or  jumping, or 
otherwise  training  his  muscles  that  he  may  take  part  iu 
contests  which  otter  material  reward  for  success.  In  other 
words,  gold,  silver,  and  bronze  medals  are  more  tempting 
than  a  proprietary  interest  in  a  champion  pennant.  If  it 
is  true  that  an  appreciable  number  of  boys  go  into  track 
athletics  not  for  the-  sport,  but  for  the  medals,  the,  sooner 
medals  are  done  away  with  the  better.  But  it  does  not 
seem  possible  that  this  can  be  so.  It  is  more  probable  that 
baseball  and  tennis  have  been  superseded,  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent, by  track  and  field  sports  because  of  the  nature  of  the 
latter.  A  boy  can  go  out  and  run  or  jump  or  put  the  shot 
all  by  himself  at  almost  any  time  of  the  day.  But  he  can- 
not go  into  au  open  field  and  play  baseball  with  himself, 
nor  can  he  go  to  a  tennis-court  and  play  tennis  with  him- 
self. In  one  case  he  must  secure  one  opponent  at  least, and 
in  the  other  he  must  gather  a  dozen  or  more  companions. 
To  be  sure,  these  objections  are  not  very  valid  in  New  York, 
but  I  have  no  doubt  the  charm  of  individuality  has  tempted 
a  good  many  boys  to  indulge  in  track  sports.  If  baseball 
and  tennis  have  suffered  thereby  it  is  all  the  more  reason 
why  baseball  and  tennis  enthusiasts  should  strive  by  every 
means  in  their  power  to  organize  good  nines  and  train  good 


466 


irS   ROUND   TABLE 


tennis-players — for  it  is  an  unhealthy  tree 
that  puts  all  its  vitality  into  oue  branch. 


THERE  is  TALK  or  CHANGING  the  constitu- 
tion of  the  New  England  I.S.A.A.  in  order 
to  allow  Scholars  o\er  tv>ent\-one  years  of 

e  in  compete-  ill  game's  he-Id  under  the 
rules  of  that  association.  Tin-  .subject  \\ill 
be  brought  up  for  discussion  and  probably 
lleeideil  at  1  lie  i  nee  I  ing'  to  lie  held  ill  Huston 
day  after  to-iiun  row.  May  'M.  The  motion 
s]  inn  Id  be  iinrondil  ion  ally  defeated,  and  the 
eonsi  i!  iiiiiin  lefr  nnaltereil.  Except  for 
very  iiiiiisual  reasons,  a  man  twenty-one 
years  old  has  no  business  being  in  school. 
He  ought  lo  In-  at  work  or  in  college.  If, 
however,  he  si  ill  lingers  about  the  school- 
room, there  is  no  reason  why  special  laws 
should  1 nacted  for  his  benefit.  He  de- 
sen  cs  to  be  discriminated  against.  Be- 
sides, there  arc  probably  not  more  than  half 
a  do/.eii  men  of  that  aye  in  all  the  schools 
of  the  Xe\v  Knglaud  League,  and  these  can 
certainly  spend  their  tune  to  better  advan- 
tage in  studying  than  at  tbot-racing  and 
jumping.  It  is  unfair  to  allow  grown  men 
to  en  i  e-r  into  competition  with  younger  men, 
and  I  earnestly  hope-  thai  those  who  con- 
trol the  policy  of  the  X.K. I.S.A.A.  will  real- 
ize this,  and  unceremoniously  shut  the  men 
out. 


AT  Till'.  Axxr.u,  ix-nooi?  meeting  of  the 
New  England  I.S.A.A.,  held  in  Boston  last 
month,  there  were  ;!42  entries,  representing 
thirty  preparatory  schools.  This  would 
seem  to  show  that  there  is  even  more  inter- 
est in  track  athletics  in  Boston  than  there  is 
in  New  York-.  The,  result  of  the  meeting 
was  most  sal  isfaetory,  inasmuch  as  live  rec- 
ords were  broken,  one  was  equalled,  and  a 
new  record  was  established.  The  team 
race's  w  ere  a  new  feat  lire,  and  as  rival  schools 

•re-  purposely  matched  against  one  au- 
othcr,  the  contests  pn>\ed  most  interesting 
and  exciting.  The  Worcester  High-School 
managed  tei  retain  the  championship  e>t 
the  A<siii-iati»n  by  scoring  19  points;  the 
Won-esler  Academy  took  second  place  with 

;  points.  This  prowess  was  not  relished  or 
appreciated  by  the  boys  of  the  Boston 
schools,  who  are  not  by  any  means  anxious 
to  seethe-  pennant  float,  over  any  city  but  the 
Hub;  yet  it  has  been  evident  for  some  time 
that  any  one  who  wants  to  defeat  these 
Worcester  school-boys  will  have  to  get  up 
very  early  in  the  morning  and  travel  re- 
markablv  fast.  THE  (IKADUATE. 


t 


STAMPS 


'his  Department  is  coinlm-ted  in  the  interest  '.f  stamp  collectors, 
and  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to  answer  any  qntjtion  on  the  subject 
so  far  as  possible.  Correspondents  should  address  Editor  Stamp  De- 


SIXCE  Tim  DISCOVKKV  of  the  variety  of 
the  twelve -cent  United  States  stamp  il- 
lustrated last  we-e-k.  many  collectors  have- 
sought  to  find  other  varieties  in  the  same 
issm-.t  limiting  that  if  a  m-\v  plate  was  made 
for  the  twelve  cents  it  was  likely  that  other 
new  ones  were  engraved  for  different  val- 


ues.    Thus  far  no  further  discoveries  have 
1 n  made. 

THKOXK.  TWO,  live,  a  ml  ten  cent  values  of 
the  ne-w  I'nite-il  States  newspaper  stamps 
have  thus  far  been  issued. 

I.\  TIII-:  three-cent  stamp  of  the  1S57  issue, 
the  ••  Outer  Line"  variety  consists  of  a  line 
line  running  all  around  I  lie-  stamp.  Each  of 
the  stamps  lias  a  line  on  the  side,  luit  in 
the-  variety  an  additional  line  line  appears 
a  I  lent  1 1  tin1  tn|>  and  bottom,  the  pcrl'oi  a  I  inn 

s 'lime's    ele-strening    one    of   them.      The 

eiutiT  -  line    \arie-ty    is   not  as  searce  as   the- 
prii-e-  .HIM-II  would  indicate. 

THE  me, n  VAI.I-KS  of  I'nited  State's  en- 
velopes are  now  a  tiling  of  the  past,  the 
department  no  longer  printing  any  value 

lii^lie-r  I  han  li  M-  ce-nts  mi  the  envelopes. 

MANY  SIA.MI-  I'\I-I:KS  say  that  only  the 
one.  two.  and  three  cent  values  of  the  new 
liostagc'-siamps  have-  be-e-n  issued  ami  print- 
eel,  iml  the  ten  lias  also  been  sent  out. 

IT  wori.D  NOT  I:K  M  Ki'iasixe;  to  many 
c-olleclois  if  the-  current  issue  of  I'nited 
States  .stamps.  \\  hicli  were  first  printed  b\ 
the  Bun-au  of  Kii^iaviug,  should  be  cata- 
logued as  a  separate  issue  before  many  \  ears, 


there  lie-in;;  many  points  of  difference  be- 
tween those  first  put  out  and  what  the 
bureau  is  now  printing.  The  colors,  per- 
foration, ami  gum  are  now  much  superior  tei 
the-  first  printings, and  smaller  things  than 
t IK-SI-  ha\e  caused  stamps  to  lie  separately 
catalogued. 

AxuTllKl:  e;ri'siTii\  that  puzzles  many 
collectors  is  the  difference  between  ivood- 

i-n^i-a\ed  and  tyiiographed  stanqis.  Ty]io- 
graphed  means  set  and  printed  from  type,  so 
the'  I  'nit <'d  State-*  officially  sealed  stamps  of 
this  variety  are  printed  with  regular  type, 
while  the  lithographed  are  printed  Imm 
stone's,  tlie-  designs  being  engraved,  anil  thus 
faiie'y  and  very  different  from  the  type-set, 
si  amp. 

A  NEW  STAMP  TAI-KI;  will  shortly  be  issued 
Ireim  Muslim.  It  will  have  a  good  financial 
backing,  and  it  is  expected  to  he  one  of  tliei 
leading  publications  in  the  philatelic  line. 

SIM  i  mi:  I.A.-T  catalogue  added  the  va- 
rieties of  I'lllte-el  State's  stamps  on  ribbed 
paper,  it  has  caused  collectors  to  hunt  for 
them,  but  probably  \\ith  little  success,  as 
they  are  very  scarce.  Kibbed  paper  is  a  va- 
riety of  wove-,  having  lines  running  up  or 
down  or  across,  and  showing  on  the  back 
of  stamp. 


Highest  of  all  in  Leavening  Power.  —  Latest  U.  S.  Gov't  Report 


Baking 


Powder 


g 


9 


PURE 


F 
& 

to 
to 


MONARCH 


King  of  all  Bicycles. 


TRADE-MARK. 

Five  Styles.    Weights,  18  to  25  Pounds. 
I'riccK,  $85  and  $1OO. 

MONARCH    CYCLE   CO. 

Factory andMainOffice.Lakeand  HalstedSts.  Chicago 
Eastern  Branch:  97-99  Reade  St..  New  York. 

The  C.  F.  GryoN'  Co.,  Ltd.,  Managers. 

467 


\  Kombi 
I  Camera 
I  $3.50 

5    SMALLEST  CAMERA  MADE 

1  Carry  it  in  your  pocket.  Size  I5a  x2  in.  TVeight4oz.| 
7  takes  2a  pictnrea  with  one  loading.    Made  of  seamless, 
J  metal,  oxidized  silver  finish.    Size  of  picture  1  in.  sq., 
•  ine  simplest  camera  made.  Any  boy  or  girl  can  use  it.  i 
V  fcvery  instrument  fully  guaranteed.    Not  a  toy,  but  a! 
n  practical  camera.    THE  KOMBI  complete.  $3.50.    Roll ' 
Oof  film  UoexpoBures)  2U  cts.  extra.    We  develop  your! 

2  negatives  if  desired.    Illustrated  Booklet  Free. 

,  Alfred  C.  Kemper,  Mnfr.,  208  Lake  St.,  Chicago* 
4  BRANCHES— LONDON:  36  Oiford-st.,W.  « 

l^^^»^»f&S!ilSS!&&SSSS&S^ 
, PUZZLE    PURSE. 

AflrBt-elasKiiiorncco  pnrsp  with  nirkel  frame 
and  clasp.  Can't  lie  opened  without  the  secret; 
worth  25c.  as  a  purse  and  $5.00  as  a  "braki 
cracker."  As  sample  of  our  looo  Bargains  we 
mail  it  postpaid  with  lar^e  Catalogue  for  lOc. 

INOERSOLL  &  BRO,  65  CORTLANLT  ST.  N.  Y.  CITY, 

NESS  &  HEAD  NOISES  CURED 

t'.v  "'V  INVISIBLE  Tubular  Cushions.   Have  helped 
men-  to  ^niui    UCJIQing  than  all  other  de- 


DEAF 


- 

vh-es  combined.      Whispers  II  CM  lid.     Help  ears  as  glasses 
(To  eyes.  F.  IHsi-ox,  858  B'dway,N.Y.  Book  of  proofs  FREE 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


MAP   OF    NEW   YOKKiCITY 
SHOWING  ASPHALTED    AND 

MAC  ADAM  IZKD  STREETS. 
-t^™  Asphalt  or  Macadam. 
ama/aaa  Unpaved  poor  Streets. 
\  1,1 )  Numbers  referring  to  Table 

1.  Old  Road  out  of  New  York. 

2.  Washington  Bridge. 

3.  Hif;h   Bridge. 

4.  Mucombs  Dam  Bridge. 

5.  Astoria  Ferry. 

6.  Long  Island  Ferry. 

7.  Greenpoint  Ferry. 

9.'  Gmia  St.  tindli'dw'y  Ferries. 

10.  Catherine  Street  Ferry. 

11.  Brooklyn  Uridge. 

12.  Kulton  Ferry. 

13.  W,,I1  Street  "Ferry. 

14.  South  Ferry. 

15.  New  Jersey  Central  Ferry. 

16.  Pavonia  Ferry. 

17.  Pennsylvania  Railroad  Ferrv. 

18.  D.  L.  and  W.  Ferry. 

19.  Fourteenth  Street  Ferry. 

20.  Erie   Ferrv. 

21.  Weehawkra  Ferry. 

22.  Fort  Lee  Ferry. 


BICYCLING 


interest  of  Bicyclers,  anil  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to 
inquiries  regarding   the   League   of  Amel' 


This  department  is  conducted  in  thi 
answer  any  question  on    the    subject,  hi 
Wheelmen",  so  far  ns  possible.     Coi  respondents  should  address  Editor  Bicycling  Departij 

THIS  DEPARTMENT  WILL,  so  far  as  possible,  publish  maps 
and  descriptions  of  various  bicycle  routes  in  the  viril- 
ity of  different  important  cities  in  America. 

THE  MAP  THIS  WEEK  is  of  New  York  city.  It  shows  at 
once  just  what  can  be  done  with  a  bicycle  in  New  York,  what 
are  the  best  ways  of  getting  out  of  the  city,  and  where 
the  best  streets  for  wheeling  are  through  its  whole  length. 
Most  of  the  black  roads  are  of  asphalt  pavement,  but  of 
course  the  Riverside  Drive,  West  Seventy-second  Street, 
and  the  long  avenues  above  the  Park,  as  well  as  those  in 
the  Park,  are  of  macadam.  It  will  pay  wheelmen,  or  boys 
and  girls  who  expect  to  be  wheelmen  or  wheelwomen  soon, 
to  tear  out  this  page  and  keep  it  for  reference,  for  by  care- 
ful study  it  will  show  how  to  avoid  pavement,  so  far  as 
possible,  in  getting  from  one  part  of  the  city  to  another. 

To  BEGIN  WITH  THE  East  Side  below  Fourteenth  Street. 
The  wheelman's  object  must  be  to  get.  to  Second  Avenue  as 
directly  as  possible.  He  should  then  go  up  Second  Avenue, 
which  is  asphalted  to  Twenty-second  Street,  turn  east  into 
Lexington,  and  go  np  the  latter  to  Thirty-second  Street. 
Hero  is  the  beginning  of  Murray  Hill,  and  the  asphalt  stops. 
He  has  two  blocks  to  ride  on  Lexington,  and  then  turning 
west  he  has  half  an  avenue  block  uphill  to  Park  Avenue 
and  Thirty  -  fourth  Street.  From  here  he  has  almost  a 
clear  asphalted  or  macadamized  road  out  of  New  York. 
He  turns  through  to  Madison  Avenue  on  any  street  from 
Thirty -four  to  Fortieth,  goes  down  the  paved  hill  be- 
tween Forty-first  and  Forty-second  streets  on  Madisou 
Avenue,  and  then  keeps  on  the  latter  till  he  turns  through 
Fifty-eighth  Street,  crosses  Fifth  Avenue,  and  if  a  dry  day 
enters  the  Park,  or  if  too  soon  after  rain  passes  west  up 
Fifty-ninth  Street. 

SUPPOSE  IT  HAS  RAINED  RECENTLY.  The  bicycler  keeps 
to  Fifty -ninth  Street,  till  he  reaches  the  Boulevard  at 
Eighth  Avenue.  He  should  then  take  the  right  side  of  the 
Boulevard  going  out  till  he  reaches  Ninety-sixth  Street, 
when  he  must  cross  to  the  left  side,  owing  to  the  fact  that 
the  Boulevard  is  as  yet  only  paved  on  tlie  west  side  from 
here  out.  At  108th  Street  the  asphalt  stops,  and  he  must 
either  go  through  that  street  to  the  Riverside  Drive  or  keep 
on  the  Boulevard,  which  frous  here  to  125th  Street  is  in  bad 
condition,  awaiting  asphalt  pavement.  If  he  takes  the 
drive  lie  should  turn  cast  and  go  down  a  very  steep  but 
short  hill  on  122d  Street,  just  opposite  Grant's  Tomb,  into- 
the  Boulevard,  and  as  soon  as  he  comes  to  125th  Street  a 
long  and  pretty  steep  hill  confronts  him.  It  is  not  difficult, 
however,  if  taken  slowly,  since  the  macadam  is  good,  and 
the  hill  a  steady  incline.  At-  154th  Street,  which  is  as- 
phalted,he  should  turn  east  to  St.  Nicholas  Avenue,  which 
is  better  here  than  below,  though  the  macadam  is  old. 
Keeping  on  St.  Nicholas  Avenue  he  soon  comes  into  the 
Boulevard  again  at  168th  Street,  whirh  is  here  called  Kings- 
bridge  Road,  and  is  newly  macadamized.  By  making  this 
slight  detour  at  155th  Street  the  rider  avoids  going  down 
the  hill  back  of  Trinity  Cemetery,  and  up  another  bud  one 
on  the  Boulevard.  If  he  is  going  up  the  Hudson  he  should 
turn  east  at  ISlst  Street,  through  a  bad  two  hundred  yard* 
of  the  latter,  cross  the  Harlem  on  Washington  Bridge,  (2), 
and  turn  north  into  Featherbed  Lane.  This  is  necessary,  be- 
cause the  Kingsbridge  Road  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  which 
begins  at  181st  Street,  is  in  a  very  bad  condition  as  far  as 
Spuyteu  Duyvil. 

ON  THE  WEST  SIDE  of  the  city  downtown  it  is  the  rider's 
first  object  to  get  to  Eighth  Avenue  as  directly  as  possible. 
He  then  has  a  clear  course  out.  Starting  from  the  Grand 
Central  Station,  a  good  seven-mile  ride  is  to  go,  as  already 


-111- 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


described,  up  the  Boulevard  to  106th  Street, 
then  tnrn  cast  to  the  Park,  and  come  back 
to  the  Plaza.  On  a  dry  day  one  of  the  most 
beautiful,  perhaps  the.  most  beautiful,  ten- 
mile  ride  in  America  is  from  the  (irand 
Central,  as  described,  to  the  Plaza,  thence 
through  the  Park  to  West  Seventy-second 
Street  to  Riverside  Drive,  by  Grant's  Tomb 
to  C'laremout,  at  the  end  of  the  Drive,  and 
back,  turning  east  through  10ft.Ii  Street  to 
Boulevard  to  106th  Street,  thence  east  to 
the  Park,  and  so  down. 


This  department  is  conducted  in  the  interest  of  Girls  mi. I  Y..H.H: 
Womtri,  und  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to  answer  any  qiit~n.ii  mi 
the  subject  BO  far  as  possible.  Correspondents  should  address  Editor. 

WHILE  we  are  discussing  our  favorite 
books,  I  want  to  tell  you  something  about. 
the  treasury  of  rich  and  rare  literature 
which  you  and  I  and  everybody  may  be  free 
of  iu  opening  tlte  covers  of  our  Bibles. 

Is  it  your  habit,  dear  child,  to  read  a  few 
verses  or  a  chapter  of  the  best  of  books  ev- 
ery day,  perhaps  before  you  leave  your  room 
iu  the  morning,  or  before  you  go  to  bed  at 
night?  Have  you  your  very  own  Bible, 
and  do  you  keep  it  in  your  room,  and  ju>t 
•where  you  can  easily  put  your  hand  upon 
it?  Each  of  us  should  have  IHT  own  Bible, 
for  this  is  not  a  book  to  share  with  others. 
If  we  are  studying  a  foreign  language  we 
should  have,  in  addition  to  our  English  Bi- 
ble, a  French  or  German  or  Italian  Bible, 
a  Bible  in  the  language  we  are  trying  to 
learn,  and  by  reading  in  it  every  day  \vc 
will  greatly  add  to  our  vocabulary,  and  find 
ourselves  rapidly  growing  used  to  the  looks 
and  souuds  of  the  most  familiar  words. 

No  single  book  in  the  world  has  so  many 
interesting  features  as  the  Bible,  partly  be- 
cause it  is  a  library  or  collection  of  books 
iu  itself,  written  by  many  different  authors, 
in  different  periods  of  the  world.  The  Old 
Testament,  which  some  people  neglect,  is 
full  of  the  most  exciting  and  beautiful 
stories.  There  is  the  story  of  Job,  out-  of 
the  very  oldest  in  literature,  telling  how 
this  :'  man  in  the  laud  of  Uz  had  seven  thou- 
sand sheep,  and  three  thousand  camels,  and 
five  hundred  yoke  of  oxen,  and  a  very  great 
household,  and  was  the  greatest  of  all  the 
men  of  the  East."  By  a  series  of  calamities, 
robbers,  lires, earthquakes,  and  cyclones,  Job 
lost  all  his  wealth,  in  the  twinkling  of  an 
eye;  and  then  follow  a  wonderful  series  of 
chapters  in  which  he  and  his  three  friends 
and  the  Lord  God,  "out  of  a  whirlwind,"  dis- 
cuss the  situation.  There  are  the  stories 
of  David  and  Saul,  of  David  and  Goliath,  of 
David  and  Jonathan,  of  David  and  Absalom; 
indeed  the  whole  history  of  David  is  a  suc- 
cession of  amazing  stories  most  spleudidly 
told.  Coming  dowu  front  David  are  the 
stories  of  Solomon  aud  the  great  temple  he 
built,  "a  mountain  of  snow  aud  gold";  and 
then  we  have  the  narratives  of  Nehemiah 
and  Ezra;  of  Daniel  and  his  wonderful  life; 
of  the  three  friends  who  were  thrown  into 
a  fiery  furnace,  but  stepped  out  unhurt ;  of 
many  others  whom  I  cannot  mention  here. 
Long  before  David's  days  we  find  the  beau- 


tiful  story  of  Ruth  ;  and  we  have  the  story 
of  little  Samuel,  and  of  Samuel  grown  to  be 
a  man  and  a  prophet.  We  have  in  the  Old 
Testament  the  histories  of  Elijah  and  of 
Elisha.  of  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob. 

I  SIMPLY  cannot  endure  the  thought  that 
any  of  my  girls  are  to  be  ignorant  of  the 
charm  of  the  Old  Testament.  I  want  them 
to  feel  as  I  do  about  the  "mountains  of 
Gilboa,"  and  the  "dew  of  Hermou,"  and  the 
fastnesses  ofMoab;  I  want  them  to  know 
Eilom  and  Philistia  and  Salem  and  Tyre 
and  Sidon  and  the  cedars  of  Lebanon.  And 
I  don't  want  them  ever  to  go  fumbling  and 
stumbling  around  through  the  Bible,  not 
knowing  where  to  find  their  places, peering 
about  after  Second  Kings  iu  Deuteronomy, 
and  looking  for  the  Psalms  and  the  Proverbs 
away  over  in  Mnlachi.  Learn  the  order  of 
the  books,  my  dears,  and  fix  it  in  your  minds 
by  often  reading  the  Bible,  just  as  you 
would  read  any  other  book,  only  with  the 
feeling  that  it  will  give  you  an  amount  of 
pleasure  and  profit  that  no  other  book  can. 
There  are,  of  course,  many  books  based  upon 
the  Bible,  and  among  them  are  such  vol- 
umes as  li'ible  Stones  for  tlie  Young,  published 
by  Harper  &  Brothers,  a  very  attractive  lit- 
tle hook  to  lie  beside-  your  Bible. 


A  GOOD  CHILD 

is  usually  healthy,  and  both  conditions  are  developed 
by  use  of  proper  food.  The  Gail  Borden  Eagle  lit  and 
Condensed  Milk  is  the  best  infant's  food;  so  easily 
prepared  that  improper  feeding  is  inexcusable  and  un- 
necessary.— [A  ilv.  ] 


No  Secret  About  It. 

Physicians  have  had  the  form- 
ula of  Scott's  Emulsion  for  20 
years  and  know  they  can  always 
depend  upon  it  as  being  exactly 
the  same.  It  contains  the  purest 
Norway  Cod-liver  Oil,  the  best 
Hypophosphites  and  chemically 
pure  Glycerine,  made  into  a  per- 
fect Emulsion  that  does  not  sep- 
arate or  grow  rancid  like  other 
so-called  Emulsions.  There  have 
been  many  things  presented  as 
substitutes,  but  there  is  nothing 
that  can  take  its  place  in  Con- 
sumption and  all  wasting  dis- 
eases. 

Don't  be  ptrsvaded  to  accept  a  substitute  ! 
Scott  &  Bowne,  N.  Y.    All  Druggists.     50c.  and$1. 


Awarded 
Highest   Honors  —  World's   Fair. 

DR; 


CREAM 

BAKING 

powura 

MOST  PERFECT  MADE. 
A  pure  Grape  Cream  -of-Tartar  Powder.  Free 
from  Ammonia,  AlunrifOrany  other  adulterant 

40  YEARS  THE  STANDARD. 
Price  Baking  Powder  Co.,  Chicago. 

Sick  Headache 

AND 

Constipation 

are  quickly  and  ptcitt-antly 
cured  by 

Tarrant's  Effervescent  Seltzer  Aperient. 

The  most  valuable  family  remedy  for 

Disordered  Stomach 

and  Impaired  Digestion. 

go  cents  and  $1.00.  All  Druggists. 

TAHRANT  &  Co.,  Chemists,  N.  Y. 

Postage  Stamps, 


ino  all  dif.Vene7.nela,  Costa  Rica,  etc.,  only 
loo.;  200  all  dit.Hayti, Hawaii, etc., only  BOc. 
Ag'tRwanledatCOnerct.com.  List  FREE! 
C.A.SteKniaiin,'27l-'SEadsAv.,St.Louis,Mo. 

var.,  all   dit.,  5c.;  12  var.   Heligoland, 
,^_     16c.;  6  var.  Italy,  18SS  to  1862.  So.;  3  var. 
v"t   ,%c  •  ;ir»var.  C  American,  Bflc.  Agenta  wanted. 
F.  W.   ii  1 1. 1. IK,  904  Olive  St.,  St.  Louis,  Mo. 

all  different,  Chilli),  etc.,  lOc.;  5  Saxony,  lOc.; 
40  Spain,  40c.;   6  Ttinta,  14c.;    10  U.  S.  liev- 
rmu's,  toe.  Afjts.  wtd.,  50X  com.;  '95  list  free. 
CRITTENDEN  &  BORGMAN  CO..  Detroit,  Mich. 


100 


PUZZLE    PENKNIFE,  7Oc. 


15  varieties:    to  all   sending  for 
_  approval  sheets  50  %  commission. 

RefefeiTces  required.  FRANK  W.  ALDEN.Waterville,  Me. 

rnrr  S  Japan  and  India  Stamns,2c.:  100  all  different, 

|"  hLL  lOc  :  6  Sardinia,  5c.;  S  Samoa,  lOc. 

J.  A.  WILSON.  1108  Fairmount  Ave.,  Phila.,  Pa. 

Approval  Sheets  at  S0;{  dis>.;    seud  at  once. 
OHIO    STAMP    CO.,  Carthage,  Ohio. 

POSTAGE  DUES.— 50c.  brown,  3flc.  red,  90c.  each;  the 
two  for  |1. 75.  Diamond  stamp  l'o.,tierniiiutoiTii,  Pa. 

OTAMDC    Catalogue   value  $5,  3oc. ;   List.  2c. 
O  I  MlVIrO  Old  ColoiiyStampCo.,Plainville,Miiss. 

_•&&  .Sen  1  -.-  stamp  for  Sample  Book  of  all  the  FINEST  end 
PADnV  LU'l>T  s.vl.i  in  II,..J|,.,1  K.k-...  Hi.l.h-n  N.im...  Silk 
llMnUO  Frino*  Envelope  ana  Calling  CABJ>SFOIUS95.  WESEU. 
UEMUINE'UIDS.NOT'TIIASH.  UNION  CARD CO.,Columbu», Ohio, 


BEST 


.  s  the  butlon  and  it  opens.    Worth  £5c.  asa  knife  and  85  O'IM 

otii-.-'.o.     A  eample  ofourlOOO  Bargains,  mailed  postpaid  withC?t.  f..r   Ktr. 
KOUT.  H,  l.XUKRSOLL  &  BRO,  Co  CVUTUSDT  ST.K.  Y.  HIV, 

469 


WISER    THAN     A     WIZARD. 


A.  Kore  Combination  of  \utnral  lll-tnry.  Fwltv-lorc.  Charade,  nud  Rlihlle,  with  IVlzc*  to  those  who  I  nravel  Most  of  the  Forty  Queer  4|iie«tlong. 


ONOE  there  live  1  a  very  wicked  King,  a  brother  of  the  original  Blue- 
beard.1 lie  had  an  ouly  daughter  called  Minnehaha.2  She  \v:i^  a  very 
obedient  girl  in  every  respect  save  one — she  would  not  hearken  to  the 
suit  of  Harry  Hotspur,3  whom  her  father  had  determined  f-he  must 
marry-  Continuing  in  her  refusal,  her  father  threatened  to  imprison 
her  in  the  Plenty  Perplexing  Puzzle  Palace,  known  as  the  Four  Pi's,4 
the  residence  of  the  English  Merliu.5  Finally  a  compromise  was  effected 
— the  princess  wus  to  marry  that  man,  be  he  prince  or  beggar,  who  should 
present  a  query  to  the  King's  Wizard  which  he  could  not  answer.  If, 
however,  the  Wizard  did  answer  correctly,  the  propouuder  of  the  query 
was  to  lose  his  head. 

All  the  details  being  fixed,  a  baud  of  naturalists  on  their  way  to  the 
Island  of  ihe  Moon6  stopped  to  try  their  fortunes.  In  turn  they  asked 
for  the  edible  English  philosopher,7  the  species  of  mollusk  that  is  used 
in  all  printing-offices, a  the  bird  that  is  always  in  evening  dress,9  the 
bird  10  that  sometimes  brings  corns  on  your  feet,  the  animal  that  cannot 
say  no,11  the  insect  that  fills  the  new  Boston  Public  Library  to  the  num- 
ber of  many  thousands,12  and  the  fish13  that  everybody  seeks  after.  As 
the  Wizard  replied  to  all  correctly,  he  chopped,  off  the  heads  of  the 
questioners.  Then  Dick  the  Scholar  '*  arrived,  and  demanded  the  Story 
of  Molorchos.15  As  soon  as  ihe  story  had  been  related,  Dick's  head  fol- 
lowed the  others  into  the  basket.  Next  came  the  Knight  of  the  Lions,16 
singing: 

"A  hundred  and  fifty  if  rightly  applied 

To  a  place  where  the  living  did  once  all  abide — 
»  Or  a  consonant  joined  to  a  sweet-singing  bird- 

Will  give  you  a  mime  that  you've  oftentimes  heard, 
Which  'rnong  your  friends  at  least  one  person  owns; 
It's  ;i  rival  of  Grey,  and  as  common  as  Jones.''*7 

The  Wizard  was  wise. 

A  quartet  of  historians  now  made  their  appearance;  they  asked, 
respectively,  for  the  statesman  1S  who  has  ahvay*  hceii  a  thorn  in  the 
side  of  Americans;  the  Colonial  general  19  who  might  have  been  used 
to  close  the  Revolution;  the  American  poet20  whose  month  was  larger 
than  his  head  ;  and  the  New  England  doctor  -1  for  which  the  city  of  Phil- 
adelphia is  famed. 

Once  more  the  King's  agent  triumphed.  Next  came  the  most  learn- 
ed-=  of  all  the  Romans,  who  asked  for  Molly  Maguires.23  "Yon  are 
only  tit  to  wear  a  steeple-crowned  hat,"24  said  the  wise  man  when  he 
had  given  the  required  explanation,  "  but  I  will  be  lenient  with  yon." 

Just  now  a  beautiful  song  is  heard.  It  is  snug  by  the  Prince  of  the 
Ode,25  and  it  runs  as  follows: 

"My  first  makes  nil  Nature  appear  with  one  face, 
At  my  second  are  music,  beamy,  and  grace; 
And  if  this  charade  you  cannot  e'er  uues-,— 
Throwing  my  whole  at  your  head, — I'll  take  the  princess-"  -6 

But  he  didn't.  The  princess  remained  for  another.  A  poor  knight 
from  the  Laud  of  Cakes  27  inquired  tor  Tom  of  Lincoln,-9  but  lie  did  not 
live  long  enough  to  use  the  information  when  it  was  given  him.  An 
arrogant  fellow  who  imagined  the  princess  was  his,  said,  "Tell  me,  if 
yon  ran,  to  whom  did  the  flying  tapestry  belong  ?"  2s  That  was  the  last 
question  tins  m;in  ever  propounded.  A  tall  minstrel,  who  reminded  one 
of  the  Snow  King,30  presented  this: 

"My  first  we  oft  lend  to  each  other  in  turn. 

To  borrow  it  would  be  exceedingly  droll; 
My  next  near  my  first  you  may  often  discern. 
In  my  first  too,  alas !  you  perhaps  tind  my  whole." 31 

"Tell  me  where  I  can  tind  the  Key  of  Russia  ?"  3-  inquired  a  bold 
adventurer.  The  Wizard  told  him,  and,  brave  as  he  was,  he  lost  his 
head  completely. 

"  I  am  here  to  seek  the  First  Gentleman  of  Europe,"  33  said  a  young 
gallant.  "You  are  on  the  road  to  him,"  rejoined  the  Wizard. 

A. jolly  old  chap,  who  re.-embU'd  the  King8*  noted  for  his  penman- 
ship, walking  lip  slowly,  shonled  : 

"  What  insects 3S  does  ever   lunly  sleep  on  ?" 

The  princess  was  yet  to  be  won. 

Jack-timeud-all 3tl  then  said,  "  Who  was  the  first  Lady  Magistrate  ?"  3' 
After  poor  Jack  was  despatched,  there  came  up  the  citizen3"  of  New 
Jersey  who  laid  plans  to  kill  King  George  III.,  but  fired  some  British 
naval  stores  instead.  He  said  this  business  of  trying  to  get  the  prin<r.-s 
was  coming  to  be  so  hazardous  that,  old  as  he  was,  he  would  have  to 
be  nil  owed  to  ask  four  questions  or  none  at  all.  The  Wizard  agreed 
readily. 

"Who39  made  the  first  use  of  steam-power  in  printing?11  he  asked,  aud 
the  Wizard  answered  promptly. 

"In  what  city40  was  tin-  first  republican  government  in  America 
established?"  The  Wizard  agjiin  answered  promptly- 

The  man  began  to  lo.ik  uruvr.  Half  his  chances  were  gone.  Sum 
moning  courage,  he  propounded  this  :  "The  name  of  the  wife41  of  an 
English  admiral  who  tried  to  get  state  secrets  from  an  American  gen- 
tleman by  arranging  some  social  games  of  whist."  The  Wizard  related 
the  incident,  with  names  of  all  parties,  without  an  instant's  hesitation. 
The  sweat  began  to  start  on  the  man's  face.  Ouly  one  chance  remained. 
"Name  the  prince,42  afterwards  king  of  England,"  said  he,  desperately, 
"  whose  wife  sucked  the  poi-on  from  his  arm  when  he  had  a  narrow  es- 
c;ipe  irom  assassination  while  on  bis  way  home  from  a  Crusade." 


The  Wizard  named  the  prince  aud  finished  the  Jerseymau  in  the 
same  breath. 

Alter  that  he  was  without  a  job  for  a  time.  The  princess's  condi- 
tions seemed  so  hard  that,  unless  she  modified  them,  she  was  likely,  as 
the  Wizard  expressed  it,  "to  die  an  old  maid."  He  was  about  to  give 
the  princess  np  to  that  fate  when  Queen  Dick43  entered. 

"  Where  do  you  come  from  ?" 

"  From  Frisco."  44 

"  What  do  you  want  *?'' 

"To  win  the  Princess  Minuebaha.     Answer  this: 

11  Well,  what  is  it,  anyhow  ?"  asked  the  Wizard. 

"Something  that  you'll  find  very  prominently  printed  in  a  book  that 
yon  and  most  other  people  own,"  replied  the  suitor. 

"Are  the  letteis  printed  in  the  book  in  this  form?"  inquired  the 
Wizard,  getting  a  bit  scared,  and  trying  to  gain  time. 

"In  this  style  and  order,  yes;  but  there  are  other  letters  and  words 
between  them.  Come,  shall  I  have  the  princes*?" 

The  Wizard  took  five  minutes,  and  yave  it  up.  Dick  won  the  prin- 
cess, and  in  the  bouuieoiisness  of  his  heart  invited  all  the  Knights  ami 
Ladies  of  the  Round  Table  to  vis-it  him  and  see  who  was  wiser  than  the 
Wizard.  

It  is  needless  to  say  where  yon  can  find  answers  to  the  foregoing 
questions.  Of  course  those  that  demand  animals'  names  have  plays  upon 
either  the  meaning  or  pronunciation  of  those  names.  The  nicknames 
were  once  generally  applied.  Where  names  of  persons  are  wanted  there 
is,  as  you  scarcely  need  be  told,  a  double  meaning  to  those  names,  as, 
General  Wool — were  the  name  u>ed — mi<_'ht  be  referred  to  as  the  soldier 
that  everybody  wears  in  winter,  etc.  The  verses  are  riddles — and  very 
clever  ones.  In  questions  1,  '2,  4,  32,44,  etc.,  explain  briefly  the  meaning 
or  origin  of  the  numbered  word  or  words.  All  who  have  not  passed  their 
ISth  birthday  are  asked  to  send  an  answer.  Grown  people  may  help  you 
tind  solutions.  Make  a  list  of  the  questions  by  numbers,  giving  each  a 
line  and  writing  one  below  the  other.  Do  not  write  ont  the  story. 
Fasten  your  sheets  together.  Write  your  name  at  the  top  of  the  first 
sheet.  Mail  answers  on  May  10,  to  HARPER'S  KUUNH  TAHI.K,  New  York 
— no  other  address  is  needed —and  put  the  words  Puzzle  Answer  in  the 
lower  left-hand  corner  of  the  envelope.  Answers,  with  prize  awards, 
will  be  announced  as  early  as  possible,  and  the  prizes  forwarded  at  once. 

The  prizes  are :  To  the  best,  $10  in  money,  and  $15,  also  in  money, 
divided  among  a  few  other  best  solvers.  Excellence  consists  in  correct 
answers  and  correct  spelling,  but  does  not  refer  to  penmanship. 


Lost  Diamond  Prize  Awards. 

TIIK  "  Lost  Diamond  "  puzzle  proved  an  ideal  contest.  It  was  a  trifle 
difficult,  to  be  sure,  but  it  hail  so  much  information  in  it  that  nobody 
who  failed  of  a  prize  had  his  or  her  labor  for  naught.  One  solver,  who 
live--'  in  Pennsylvania,  round  all  the  answers  save  one,  and  got  the  first 
prize  of  $10  as  his  reward.  His  name  is  James  L.  Peqiiignot.  A  Minne- 
sota solver  secured  the  second  prize,  which  in  this  case  is  made  $:-i. 
His  name  is  Eugene  T.  Hawkins.  The  balance  of  the  prize  money  is 
divided  among  the  following  eight  contestants,  $1  f>0  to  each:  Saida  N. 
aud  Frank  T.  Hallett,  of  Rhode  Island  ;  John  Morion  Espey  and  Eliz- 
abeth H.  Mcllvaine,  of  Pennsylvania ;  Helen  E.  Allis,  Junius  Browne, 
aud  Russell  M.  King,  of  New  Yoi  k,  and  J.  Lawrence  Hyde,  of  the  District 
of  Columbia. 

A  wide  rang*:  was  allowed  in  the  answers.  Indeed,  any  answer  was 
accepted  that  could  be  found  in  the  story,  and  for  which  authority  was 
furnished  or  could  be  found.  All  were  treated  alike  in  this,  and  the  con- 
test rendered  slightly  easier  lor  all.  Here  are  answers  by  numbers: 

1.  Grammar,  logic,  rhetoric,  arithmetic,  geometry,  astronomy,  aud 
music.  2.  Charles  Farrar  Browne  (Artrni'.is  Ward).  3.  School;  acad- 
emy. 4.  Edmund  March  Blunt.  5.  Robert  Burns.  G.  "  Do  Nothing  ;" 
Louis  Fifth.  7.  Eliza  Cook.  S.  On  the  Threshold.  9.  George  Gule.  10. 
Peter  Banir.  11-  Andrew  Bell.  12.  Red  tape.  13.  Alice  French  (Octnve 
Thanet).  U.  Adolphns  Washington  Green.  15.  Frank  Beard.  16.  Eliz- 
abeth Barrett  Browning.  IT.  Skin  and  bone;  William  Mahone.  IS. 
Cat;  Mttrhftli,  acl  i..  scene  7.  19.  Allan  \Voodcourt;  Bleak  House.  20. 
Elia's  Howe.  21.  Balls  ;  from  the  coat  of  arms  of  the  Medici  family,  the 
money  loauers  of  Florence;  origin  of  the  three  gilt  balls  over  a  pawn- 
broker's shop.  22.  John  Knos.  *23.  The  Hermit  of  Niagara  Falls; 
drowned  while  bathing,  June,  1831.  24.  Private  theatricals.  25.  Harriet 
ISeecher  Stowe.  2G.  Josiah  Gilbert  Holland.  -27.  Helen  Hunt  Jack- 
j-on  ;  vicinitv  ofManiUiu,  Col.  2S.  Basket;  Merry  \\'iri'x  "f  Windsor,  act 
iii.,  scene  3;  Sir  John  Falstaff.  2'J.  Elizabeth.  30.  Steppes.  31.  Thomas 
Hood.  32.  Cape.  33.  Task;  William  Cowper.  34.  Gilbert  White.  35. 
Roger  Long.  30.  Thoma^  Day.  37.  Francis  Scott  Key.  3S.  Lucy  Stone. 
30.°Mary  Berry.  '  40.  Joanna  Koertnn  BIocli.  41.  William  Black-  42. 
James  Ruins.  43.  House  of  tfeven  Gable*,  by  Nathaniel  Hawthorne. 
44.  Edward  Bird.  45.  captain  Robert  Gray.  46.  William  and  Mary, 
AVilliamsburgh,  V.1.,  1693.  47.  Salmon  P.  Chase.  48  Carpet;  apple.  49. 
Mr.  SmiiL'uin*  :  Sketches  by  lloz.  SO.  A  Roundabout  Journey  :  Charles 
Dudley  Warner.  51.  Sir  Thomas  More:  rt<>)>in  ;  statement  made  by 
Erasmus;  also  said  to  1..-  .1  Tidi-  "f  «  Tub,  by  Jonathan  Swift.  52. 
Uidgway  Knight.  53.  John  Bright;  Hubert  1'eel. 


470 


HARPER'S   KOUND   TABLE 


TKIlritiiui  to  tbe  IRounO  Sable. 

S.IMI  HSKT  EAST,  CAPS  COLONY,  SOUTH  AFRICA. 

I  am  going  to  tell  you  about  Somerset  East,  the 
South  African  town  in  which  I  live.  It  is  snugly 
situated  at  the  foot  of  a  large  anil  pretty  moun- 
tain called  the  Bush  berg.  There  are  a  good  many 
kloofs  or  deep  ravines  in  it  which  are  tilled  with 
bushes.  The  mountain  is  a  very  fine  place  for  pic- 
nicking. At  the  top  of  each  kloof  there  is  a  steep 
precipice,  over  which  there  is  a  small  waterfall. 
The  town  is  supplied  by  the  water  of  one  of  these 
kloofs.  It  is  conducted  by  pipes  to  the  town.  At 
one  time  the  mountain  was  inhabited  by  leopards, 
but  they  have  been  driven  away.  There  are  a 
good  many  bucks  and  monkeys  which  live  in  the 
kloofs. 

I  should  hare  told  you  at  first  that,  this  mountain 
lies  to  the  north  of  the  town.  To  the  south  is  the 
Fish  River.  It  is  only  a  small  river,  and  has  hardly 
any  water  in  it  except  in  the  rainy  season.  Now 
that  I  have  told  you  something  about  Somerset 
East,  I  will  tell  you  something  about  myself.  I 
am  fourteen  years  of  age.  My  chief  sports  are 
playing  football  and  cricket.  I  am  also  very  fond 
of  shooting,  fishing,  and  swimming.  I  am  also 
greatly  interested  in  collecting  stamps.  I  have  a 
good  many  varieties  in  an  album,  and  would  be 
very  glad  to  exchange  stamps  with  any  one  who 
would  write  to  me.  GEORGE  D.  CHAPLIN. 

Please  tell  us  about  your  fruits,  and  at  what  sea- 
sou  of  the  year  they  are  ripe.  Also  about  plants, 
flowers,  and  birds  common  with  you. 


IRouuO  "Sable  Chapters. 

Here  are  records  of  more  Chapters: 
No.  679. —The  Will  Carleton,  of  Downsville,  Wis. 
John  C'assidy,  Downsville. 

No.  680.— The  Captain  Charles  King  Chapter,  of 
St.  Louis.  Mo.  It  is  an  international  correspond- 
ing Chapter,  and  would  like  members  from  all  for- 
eign countries,  especially  from  India,  the  West  In- 
dies, Japan.  China,  and  Africa.  The  initiation  is  a 
coin'  or  stamp  that  equals  five  cents  in  United 
States  money.  Dues  are  five  cents  for  thiv 
months,  in  advance.  It  would  like  to  enroll  Cap- 
tain Charles  King  as  an  honorary  member,  with 
his  consent.  The  president  is  Henrietta  B.  \Viilki-r. 
of  Hendersonville,  N.  C.  Walter  Knickman  is  vice- 
president,  and  Arnold  Kruckman  is  secretary  and 
treasurer,  care  of  Missouri  Pacific  Telegraph  De- 
pa  i  tinentr,  Sixth  and  Locust  streets,  St.  Louis. 

No  081.— The  G.  A.  Henty  Chapter,  of  Cleveland, 
O.  Officers  are  F.  A.  Goodwin,  president,  and  An- 
drew Neil,  secretary.  Other  members  are  Louis 
Falkner.  Harry  Harding.  Robert  Matthews.  Rear 
7  Eagle  Street,  Cleveland. 

No.  683  —The  Belvidere  Chapter,  of  Daretown, 
N.  J.  Joseph  S.  Cook,  Margaretta  E.  Paulding, 
AJbert  D.  Paulding,  Charles  E.  Richman.  Other 
members  are  Sara  C.  Clayton,  Josephine  S.  Paul- 
ding,  and  James  W.  Richmau. 

No.  683.— The  Granite  State  Literary  Society,  of 
Concord, N.  H.  John  Leighton,  Margarita  Rolins. 
Edith  Freeman.  Grace  Hood,  Morion  M.  Cheney, 
president, 81  North  State  Street. 

No.  684. — The  "  I.  H.  N."  Chapter,  of  Winchester, 
Mass.  Cassie  Sands.  Edith  Richbiirg,  Marion  Sim- 
mouds,  Peavl  Mai'hiughlin.  It  meets  semi-month- 
ly, at  the  homes  of  the  members,  and  its  object  is 
to  help  others  and  have  a  good  time.  Chapter  ad- 
dress, 25K  Myrtle  Street. 

No.  685.— The  Phcenix  Amusement  Chapter,  of 
Appleton,  Wis.  Officers  are  Benjamin  Barrett, 
Charles  Hattersly,  and  George  Stansburg.  Its  ob- 
ject is  the  cultivation  of  literature  and  social 
amusement.  It  would  like  to  correspond  with 
other  Chapters.  791  Lawrence  Street 

No.  686.—  The  Lincoln  chapter,  of  Toledo,  O.  R 
E.  Richardson,  519  Congress  Street. 


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the  best  things  in  Prose  and  Poetry,  always  includ- 
ing good  Songs  and  Hymns.  It  is  surprising  how 
littK-  .-?ood  work  of  this  kind  seems  to  be  done  in 
the  Schools,  if  one  must  judge  from  the  small  num- 
ber of  people  who  can  repeat,  without  mistake  or 
omission,  as  many  as  Three  good  songs  or  hymns. 

dfoar,  Slmrfi,  BaStrik 

•  j      *        j[  '  t>-> 

and  accurate  Memory  work  is  a  most  excellent 
thing,  whether  in  School  or  out  of  it.  among  all  ages 
and  all  classes.  But  let  that  which  is  so  learned  be 
worth  learning1  and  worth  retaining.  The  Franklin 
Square  Song  Collection  presents  a  large  number  of 


and  Hymns,  in  great  variety  and  very  carefully 
selected,  comprising  Sixteen  Hundred  in  the  Eight 
Numbers  thus  far  issued,  together  with  much 
choice  and  profitable  Reading  Matter  relating  to 
Music  and  Musicians.  In  the  complete  and  varied 


0t[  G0nlcnbt 


which  is  sent  free  011  application  to  the  Publishers, 
there  are  found  dozens  of  the  best  things  in  the 
World,  which  are  well  worth  committing  to  mem- 
ory; and  they  who  kiiovy  most  of  such  good  things, 
and  appreciate  and  enjoy  them  most,  are  really 
among  the  best  educated  people  in  any  country. 
They  have  the  best  result  of  Education.  For  above 
Contents,  with  sample  pages  of  Music,  address 

Harper  &  Brothers,  New  York. 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Jocko  makes  a  bolt  for  the  woods  to  escape 
a  cruel  master. 


Fimls  a  nice  box  which  is  just  the  place  to 
bide  in ; 


fjfw^i^l 

itjV&sbJs1; 
-^(EuSb 


3  -* 

But  soon  discovers  his  mi«tak**,  to  Hie  delight  And  bags   what   he   thiuka   a 

of  Uncle  Silas,  who  finds  liis  imp  sprung,  bit. 


fine  buck   rab- 


$SA  < 

^S?   '  ~~r,  ' 


Makes  a  second  bolt  for  liberty, 


And  so  did  Silas  and  Cliloe, 


Visions  of  n  savory  stew  present  themselves  Which,  are  about  to  be  realized,  when  Jocko 

as  he  takes  poor  Jocko  homewards, 


PAINTED  TO   MATCH. 

"  OUR  library  is  a  lovely 
room,'' said-Robbie.  ''It's  paint- 
ed green." 

"That's  to  match  your  papa,  I 
guess,"  said  Fred.  "My  papa 
says  he's  the  greenest  man  he 
knows." 


A   NEW   BUSINESS. 

"  WHAT  does  your  daddy  do  Tor 
a  living?"  asked  Benny,  whose 
father  is  an  author. 

"  He's  a  stockbroker,"  said 
Johnny.  "What's  yours?" 

"He's  a  pen  -  wiggler,"  said 
Benny. 


MOLLIE'S  APPEAL. 
"  I  DO  wish  yon'il  read  to  me, 
grandmamma,"  said  Mollie.  "I 
dou't  care  much  for  the  stories, 
but  your  voice  is  s\veeter'n  mer- 
lasses." 


A  WISH. 

I  WISH  I  lived  in  Topsytowu, 
Where  things  are  always  upside 

down  ; 
I'd  love  it    much,  for    then,  you 

see, 
Too  much  mince  pie  'd  be  good 

for  me. 


WALLIE'S  JOKE. 

"JUST  see  that  baby  putting 
that  little  iron  car  in  his  mouth. 
What  do  you  suppose  he  thinks 
it  is?"  asked  the  visitor. 

"Guess  he's  heard  it's  a  chew- 
chew  car,"  said  Wallie. 


THE   TROUBLE. 

"  I  HATE  a  sore  throat,"  said  lit- 
tle Jack.  "  They're  very  nice  to 
keep  you  home  from  school,  but 
they're  hoirid  when  you  come  to 
swallow  buckwheat  cakes." 


"WELL,  Jimmieboy,  I  see  your 
papa  has  put  you  in  a  book." 

"He  tried  to,"  returned  Jim- 
mieboy, "but  I  guess  lie  didn't 
get  me  all  in.  I'm  too  big." 


AN  EXPLANATION. 

"  I  WOXDKH  why  it  is  that  most 
little  boys  don't  want  to  go  to  bed 
when  the  time  comes  ?"  said  Mr. 
Simpkins. 

"Guess  it's  because  they  d.m't 
know  enough,"  said  Willie.  "  Xo\v 
I  like  to  go  to  bed  because  I  go 
right  to  sleep,  and  I  have  heaps 
of  fun  dreaming  I'm  a  pirate  or 
a  giant  killer — and  it's  safe  as  a 
church,  because  even  if  yon  get 
killed  you're  alive  again  in  time 
for  breakfast." 


UNCLE    SILAS'S    ENCOUNTER    WITH    TUB    EVIL  ONE. 


CONSOLATION. 

MAMIE  (crying).  "  Oh,  Tomniir.  my  doll  fell  in  the  fire  and 
got  all  burnt  up !  The  prettiest  one  I  had,  too  !" 

TOMMIE  (>«/  in  f ram  aclwoJ).  "  Don't  cry,  Mamie.  Phil- 
-osophy  says  matter  can't  be  destroyed.  Your  doll  is  here 
yet,  only  it's  not  in  the  same  form." 


GETTING   AT  THE  FIGURES. 
JIMMIEBOY  is  studying  arith- 
metic, and   has   done  very    well 

so  far.  The  other  day  his  father  took  him  in  his  lap, 
and  giving  him  a  squeeze,  said,  "Dear  little  boy,  you  don't 
know  how  much  I  love  yon." 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  said  Jimmieboy  ;  "  I  love  yon  $2.000,000  worth. 
You  weigh  three  times  as  much  as  I  do,  so  you  love  me 
three  times  as  much  as  I  do  ymi.  That's  stl.niiip. I  \\orih." 


472 


\Ht-j 


HARPERS 


••v.-Vs^s 


ROUND  TABLE 


Copyright,  1895,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS.     All  Rights  Reserved. 


jPUBLISHED    WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI.— HO.  810. 


NEW  YORK.  TUESDAY,  MAY  7.  1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO    DOLLARS    A    YEAR. 


HEROES    OF     AMERICA. 

"MAD     ANTHONY"     WAYNE     AT     STONY     POINT. 
BY    THE   HONORABLE   THEODOKE   ROOSEVELT. 


NE  of  the  heroic  figures  of  the  Rev- 
olution was  Anthony  Wayne,  Ma- 
jor-General  of  the  Continental 
line.  With  the  exception  of 
Washington,  and  perhaps  Greene, 
he  was  the  best  General  the 
Americans  developed  iu  the  con- 
test; and,  without  exception,  he 
showed  himself  to  be  the  hard- 
est fighter  produced  on  either 
side.  He  belongs,  as  regards 
this  latter  characteristic,  with  the  men  like  Winfield 
Scott,  Phil  Kearny,  Hancock,  and  Forrest,  who  revelled 
in  the  danger  and  the  actual  shock  of  arms.  Indeed,  his 
eager  love  of  battle  and  splendid  disregard  of  peril  have 
made  many  writers  forget  his  really  great  qualities  as  a 
General.  Soldiers  are  always  prompt  to  recognize  the  prime 
virtue  of  physical  courage,  and  Wayne's  followers  christen- 
ed their  daring  commander  "  Mad  Anthony, "in  loving  al- 
lusion to  his  reckless  bravery.  It  is  perfectly  true  that 


Wayne  had  this  courage,  and  that  he  was  a  born  tighter; 
otherwise  he  never  would  have  been  a  great  commander. 
A  man  who  lacks  the  fondness  for  fighting,  the  eager  desire 
to  punish  his  adversary,  and  the  willingness  to  suffer  pun- 
ishment iu  return  may  be  a  great  organizer,  like  McC'lellau, 
but  can  never  become  a  great  General  or  win  great  victo- 
ries. There  are,  however,  plenty  of  men  who,  though  they 
possess  these  fine,  manly  traits,  lack  the  head  to  com- 
mand an  army  ;  but  Wayne  had  not  only  the  In-art  and  the 
hand  but  the  head  likewise.  No  man  could  dare  as  greatly 
as  he  did  without  incurring  the  risk  of  an  occasional  check; 
but  he  was  an  able  and  bold  tactician,  a  vigilant  and  cau- 
tious leader,  well  fitted  to  bear  the  terrible  burden  of  re- 
sponsibility which  rests  upon  a  Commander-in-chief. 

Of  course  at  times  he  had  to  learn  some  rather  severe. 
lessons.  Quite  early  iu  his  career,just  after  the  battle  of 
the  Brandywine,  when  he  was  set  to  watch  the  enemy,  he 
was  surprised  at  night  by  the  British  General  Grey,  who 
attacked  him  with  the  bayonet,  killed  a  number  of  his  men, 
and  forced  him  to  fall  back  some  distauce  from  the  field  of 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


action.  This  mortifying  experience  had  noeft'ect  whatever 
on  Wayne's  courage  or  self-reliance,  but  it  did  give  him  a 
valuable  lesson  in  raiiticm.  He  showed  what  he  had  learned 
by  the  skill  with  which,  many  years  later,  in  1794,  he  con- 
ducted the  famous  campaign  in  which  he  overthrow  the 
Northwestern  Indians  at  the  tight  of  the  Fallen  Timbers. 

Wayne's  t'avorite  weapon  was  the  bayonet,  and,  like 
Scott,  he  taught  his  troops  until  they  were  able  in  the  shock 
of  hand-to-hand  conflict  to  overthrow  the  renowned  British 
infantry,  who  had  always  prided  themselves  on  their  prow- 
ess with  cold  steel.  At  the  battle  of  (Jermanlown  it  was 
Wayne's  troops  who,  falling  on  with  the  bayonet,  first  drove 
the  Hessians  and  the  British  light  infantry;  and  at  Mon- 
month  it  was  Wayne  and  his  Continentals  who  lirst  checked 
the  British  advance  by  repulsing  the  bayonet  charge  of  the 
guards  and  grenadiers. 

Washington,  the  great  leader  of  men,  was  prompt  to  re- 
cognize in  Wayne  a  soldier  to  whom  could  be  entrusted 
any  especially  difficult  enterprise,  which  called  for  the  ex- 
ercise alike  of  intelligence  and  of  cool  daring.  In  the  sum- 
mer of  1780  he  was  very  anxious  to  capture  the  British  tort 
at  Stony  Point,  which  commanded  the  Hudson.!  It  was 
impracticable  to  attack  il  by  regular  siege  while  the  British 
frigates  lay  in  the  river,  and  the  defenses  were  so  strong 
that  open  assault  by  daylight  was  equally  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. Accordingly,  Washington  suggested  to  Wayne  that 
he  try  a  night  attack.  Wayne  eagerly  caught  at  the  idea. 
It  was  exactly  the  kind  of  enterprise  in  which  he  delighted. 
The  fort  was  on  a  rocky  promontory, surrounded  on  three 
sides  by  water,  and  on  the  fourth  by  a  neck  of  land,  which 
"was  for  the  most  part,  mere  morass.  It  was  across  this 
neck  of  land  that  an  attacking  column  had  to  move.  The 
garrison  was  six  hundred  sluing.  To  deliver  the  assault 
Wayne  took  nine,  hundred  men. 

The  American  army  was  camped  about  fourteen  miles 
from  Stony  Point.  One  July  afternoon  Wayne  started. 
and  led  his  troops  in  single  file  along  the  narrow  rocky 
roads,  reaching  the  hills  on  the  mainland  near  the  fort 
after  nightfall.  He  divided  his  force  into  two  columns,  to 
advance  one  along  each  side  of  the  neck,  detaching  two 
companies  of  North  Carolina  troops  to  move  in  between  the 
two  columns  and  make  a  false  attack.  The  columns  them- 
sdvcs  consisted  of  New-Knglandors,  Pcnnsylvaniaus,  and 
Virginians.  Each  attacking  column  was  divided  into  three 
parN;  a  forlorn  hope  of  twenty  men  leading,  which  was 
followed  by  an  advance-guard  of  one  hundred  and  twenty, 
and  then  by  the  main  body.  At  that  time  commanding  of- 
ficers still  carried  spontomis  and  other  old-time  weapons; 
and  Wayne,  who  himself  led  the  right  column,  directed  its 
movements  spear  in  hand. 

It  was  towards  midnight  when  the  Americans  began  to 
press  along  the  causeways  toward  the  fort.  Before  they 
were  near  the  walls  they  were  discovered,  and  the  British 
opened  a  heavy  tire  of  j;reat  guns  and  musketry,  to  which 
the  Carolinians,  who  were  advancing  between  the  two 
columns,  responded  in  their  I  urn,  according  to  orders;  but 
the  men  in  the  columns  were  forbidden  to  lire.  Wayne  had 
warned  them  that  their  work  must  be  done  with  the  bayo- 
net, and  their  muskets  « ere  not  even  loaded.  Moreover, 
so  strict  was  the  discipline  that  no  one  was  allowed  to 
leave  the  ranks,  and  when  one  of  the  men  did  so  an  officer 
promptly  ran  him  through  the  body. 

No  sooner  had  the  British  opened  lire  than  the  charging 
columns  broke  into  a  run,  and  in  a  moment  the  forlorn 
holies  had  plunged  into  the  abattis  of  fallen  timber  which 
the  British  had  constructed  just  without  the  walls.  On 
the  left  the  forlorn  hope  was  very  roughly  handled,  no 
less  than  seventeen  of  the  twenty  men  being  either  killed 
or  wounded:  but  as  the  columns  came  up  both  burst 
through  the  timber  and  swarmed  up  the  long  sloping  em- 
bankments of  the  fort.  The  British  fought  well,  cheer- 
ing loudly  as  their  volleys  rang,  hut  the  Americans  would 
not  be  denied,  and  pushed  silently  on  to  end  the  contest 
with  the  bayonet.  A  bullet  struck  Wayne  in  the  head. 
He  fell,  but  struggled  to  his  feet  and  pushed  forward,  1  wo 
of  his  officers  supporting  him.  A  rumor  went  among  the 
men  that  he  was  dead,  but  it  only  impelled  them  to  charge 
home  more  fiercely  than  ever.  With  a  rush  the  troops 


swept  to  the  top  of  the  walls.  A  fierce  but  short  tight  fol- 
lowed in  the  intense  darkness,  which  was  lit  only  by  the 
Hashes  from  the  British  muskets.  The  Americans  did  not 
tire,  trusting  solely  to  the  bayonet.  The  two  columns  hail 
kept  almost  equal  pace,  and  they  swept  into  the  fort  from 
opposite  sides  at  the  same  moment.  The  three  men  who 
first  got  over  the  walls  were  all  wounded,  but  one  ofthei.i 
struck  the  British  Hag.  The  Americans  had  the  advantage 
which  always  comes  from  delivering  an  attack  that  is 
thrust  home.  Their  muskets  were  unloaded,  and  they 
could  not  hesitate;  so,  running  boldly  into  close  quarters, 
they  fought  hand  to  hand  with  their  foes  and  speedily 
overthrew  them.  For  a  moment  the  bayonets  Hashed  and 
played  ;  then  the  British  lines  broke  as  their  assailants 
thronged  against  them,  and  the  struggle  was  over.  The 
Americans  had  lost  a  hundred  in  killed  and  wounded.  Of 
the  British  sixty-three  had  been  slain  and  very  many 
wounded,  every  one  of  the  dead  or  disabled  having  suf- 
fered from  the  bayonet ;  for  Wayne's  troops  did  not  fire  at 
all.  A  curious  coincidence  was  that  the  number  of  the 
dead  happened  to  equal  exactly  the  number  of  Wayne's 
men  who  had  been  killed  in  the  night  attack  by  the  Eng- 
lish General  Grey. 

There  was  great  rejoicing  among  the  Americans  over  the 
successful  issue  of  the  attack.  Wayne  speedily  recovered 
from  his  wound,  and  in  the  joy  of  his  victory  it  weighed 
but  slightly.  He  had  performed  a  most  notable  feat.  No 
night  attack  of  the  kind  was  ever  delivered  with  greater 
boldness,  skill,  and  success.  When  the  Revolutionary  War 
broke  out  the  American  armies  were  composed  merely  of 
armed  \ comen,  stalwart  men  of  good  courage,  and  fairly 
proficient  in  the  use  of  their  weapons,  but  entirely  with- 
out the  training  which  alone  could  enable  them  to  with- 
stand the  attack  of  the  British  regulars  in  the  open,  or  to 
deliver  an  attack  themselves.  Washington's  victory  at 
Trenton  was  the  first  encounter  which  showed  that  the 
Americans  were  to  be  feared  when  they  took  the  offensive. 
With  the  exception  of  the  battle  of  Trenton,  and  perhaps 
of  Greene's  fight  at  Eutaw  Springs,  Wayne's  feat  was  the 
most  successful  illustration  of  daring  and  victorious  at- 
tack by  an  American  army  that  occurred  during  the  war; 
and,  unlike  Greene,  who  was  only  able  to  fight  a  drawn 
battle,  Wayne's  triumph  was  complete.  At  Monmouth 
he  had  shown,  as  he  afterwards  showed  against  Coru- 
wallis,  that  his  troops  could  meet  the  renowned  British 
regulars  on  even  terms  in  the  open.  At  Stony  Point  he 
showed  that  ho  could  lead  them  to  a  triumphant  assault 
with  the  bayonet  against  regulars  who  held  a  fortified 
place  of  strength.  No  American  commander  has  ever  dis- 
played greater  energy  and  daring,  a  more  resolute  courage, 
or  readier  resource,  than  the  chief  of  the  hard-fighting  Rev- 
olutionary Generals.  Mad  Anthony  Wayne. 


ONE  BEAVE  BOY  OUT  OF  A 
THOUSAND. 

ROBERT  BAIN  recently  prevented  a  serious  accident  in 
Public  School  No.  23,  at  Marion,  near  Jersey  City. 
There  were  sounds  of  nanic  from  the  room  beneath  his 
class-room,  and  no  one.  can  tell  how  many  children  might- 
have  been  injured  hut  for  his  cool  head  and  quick  think- 
ing. He  did  what  any  bright  American  boy  should  have 
done,  but  what  scarcely  one  boy  in  a  thousand  would  have 
done. 

The  two  lower  floors  of  the  Marion  Public  School  are  oc- 
cupied by  the  classes  of  the  Primary  Department,  and  the 
top  floor  is  occupied  by  the  Grammar  Department.  The 
building  is  heated  by  steam.  One  of  the  radiator  valves 
was  broken  off  the  other  day.  While  waiting  for  a  chance 
to  repair  the  break,  the  janitor  carefully  turned  oft"  the 
steam  at  this  radiator,  and  fitted  a  tight  wooden  plug  in 
place  of  the  broken  valve.  Some  very  foolish  person,  either 
for  the  sake  of  a  joke  or  from  a  habit  of  meddling  with 
Ihings  without  asking  leave,  turned  on  the  steam.  The 
radiator  was  in  one  of  the  class-rooms  of  the  upper  primary 
floor — that  is,  the  middle  floor  of  the  building. 

The  wooden  plug  was  shot  out  of  the  radiator  with  a  re- 


474 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


port  like  a  pistol  shot  at  a  quarter  past  ten  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  Every  child  in  the  room  rushed  screaming  tow- 
ard the  sliding- door  leading  to  the  stairway.  So  fierce 
was  thr  impetus  of  the  crowd  that  the  door  was  twisted  oft' 
its  tracks  and  turned  halt-way  around,  Miss  Agnes  Carleu, 
the  teacher,  was  unable  to  control  the  children,  for  they 
had  swept  past  her  before  she  really  understood  what  had 
happened.  She  stood  helpless,  half  fainting,  fearing  that 
the  heavy  slidiug-door  would  fall  and  crush  her  pupils. 
Meantime  great  clouds  of  steam  came  hissing  from  the  ra- 
diators. 

With  a  great  clattering  of  many  feet  the  frightened  boys 
and  girls  swarmed  down  the  stairway,  looking  for  places  of 
safety.  Forty  of  them  ran  out  into  the  school-yard,  but 
forty  more  were  kept  in-doors  by  Miss  Searle,  the  principal 
of  the  Primary  Department,  and  her  aids.  At  the  moment 
of  the  explosion  and  panic  the  boys  and  girls  of  the  Gram- 
mar Department  on  the  top  floor  were  almost  panic-stricken. 
They  heard  the  loud  report  beneath  them,  the  hissing  of 
steam,  the  screams,  and  the  swift  trampling  feet.  Every 
one  was  scrambling  np  from  his  desk,  when  Robert  Bain 
jumped  out  into  the  aisle,  and  cried: 

"  Keep  yonr  seats  !  There's  no  danger  if  you  stay  where 
you  are !" 

Those  words  stopped  the  rush  like  magic.  Seeing  Bain's 
coolness  and  courage,  all  the  others  were  ashamed  to  show 
themselves  cowards.  It  was  not  so  much  the  words  he  ut- 
tered as  his  manner  in  saying  them  that  swayed  the 
crowd.  His  tone  not  only  showed  that  he  was  not  fright- 
ened, but  the  order  rang  out  sharply  and  confidently,  as  if 
the  boy  knew  he  would  be  obeyed.  A  few  moments  later 
Miss  Emma  Johnson,  the  teacher  in  charge  of  the  class, 
learned  all  about  the  accident  cm  the  floor  below,  and  told 
the  children  of  it.  There  was.  of  course,  no  possible  danger 
of  panic  now. 

What  would  have  happened  if  young  Bain  had  not 
spoken  at  the  right  moment?  Very  likely  the  children 
would  have  rushed  out,  like  Miss  Carlen's  pupils,  before 
they  could  be  checked.  A  steep  stairway  lay  before  them. 
and  probably  many  of  them  would  have  been  badly  hurt, 
if  not  killed,  in  the  wild  downward  flight.  An  accident 
somewhat  like  this,  in  the  (ireenw  idi  Avenue  Public  School 
in  New  York  many  years  ago,  had  the  most  serious  conse- 
quences. 

Robert  Bain  is  fourth  sergeant  in  one  of  the  two  cadet 
companies  of  the  Marion  Public  School.  He  was  very  hap- 
py, but  also  full  of  blushes,  when  Mr.  Du  Rie,  the  principal 
of  the  school,  complimented  him  before  all  his  friends.  If 
every  boy  who  reads  of  his  brave  act  "ill  make  up  his 
mind  to  keep  cool  in  any  panic  near  him,  he  will  have  paid 
the  best  possible  compliment  to  Robert  Bain. 


THE   TROLLEY  BIKE  OF  1900. 

BY  N.  FREDERICK  CARRYL. 

"   A   LETTER,  Uncle  Tom!      From  the  New  Jersey  Cou- 

/\  solidated  Traction  Company,  as  sure  as  I  live.  Now 
•we  can  start  any  minute." 

"  liight  you  are,  my  boy,"  said  the  brisk  old  gentleman  of 
close  on  sixty. 

Joe  heaved  a  big,  contented  sigh — not  considered  a  very 
healthy  proceeding,  by-the-way — and  made  a  short  speech. 
"  Uncle  Tom, "said  he,  "  it  may  surprise  you  a  little  to  heal- 
that  father  has  decided  he  must  stay  home  and  attend  strict- 
ly to  business  for  at  least  a  month.  By  that  time  my  vaca- 
tion will  be  at  an  end.  Now  I  have  set  my  heart  on  this 
trip,  but  who  can  I  get  for  a  comrade?" 

"Well,  Joe,  what  do  you  say  to  the  idea  of  taking  your 
old  uncle  along?" 

"Why,  Uncle  Tom,  you  dear  man,  you  are  the  very  nest 
best  to  father.  My!  What  a  jolly  time  we  will  have!" 

Joe's  father  and  I  had  arranged  it  so  that  he  could  stay 
at  home,  believing,  as  well  he  might,  the  boy  was  safe  in  my 
hands. 

Since  all  traction  companies  are  owned  by  States  (and,  of 
course,  subdivided  into  counties),  it  is  a  comparatively  easy 


matter  to  get  permits  to  use  the  company's  trolley-wires, 
have  your  meter  inspected,  locked,  and  dated. 

The  universal  application,  of  electricity  to  the  bicycle, 
tricycle,  and  other  road  vehicles — not  by  batteries,  which, 
are  still  too  heavy  or  short-lived  for  long  trips,  but  by  the 
trolley-wire  and  connecting  track — is  of  very  recent  date. 
Minor  difficulties  still  exist,  and  should  anything  serious 
happen,  I  am  mechanic  enough  to  hope  to  repair  damages. 

Our  machine  was  a  very  simple  affair — after  all  is  said 
and  left  unsaid.  At  first  glance  it  looked  not  unlike  an 
ordinary  tandem — as  in  fact  it  was,  but  with  a  very  much 
wider  tread  forward,  where,  the  electric  motor  was  handily 
placed  and  most  effective  in  operation.  The  treadles  re- 
mained connected,  but  could  be  operated  in  the  forward 
direction  only.  Coasting,  with  the  pedals  as  foot-rests, 
whether  going  down  hill  or  driven  at  high  speed  by  the' 
motor,  was  thus  possible  and  easy.  The  electric  head-light 
was  supplied  from  the  same  source  as  the  motor,  viz.,  the 
trolley  overhead  wire.  Of  course  we  had  a  kerosene  lamp 
to  use  when  disconnected  from  the  street  current.  Since 
1896  the  overhead  trolley  has  been  abolished  in  large  towns 
and  cities  in  favor  of  the  underground  method  of  electrical 
connection,  while  the  overhead  system  is  still  used  (as  so 
much  cheaper  for  long  distances)  in  the  country,  between 
towns  and  all  distant  points. 

We  used  a  light  bamlwo  pole,  built  up  of  five  three-foot 
sections,  to  reach  the.  overhead  wire.  Inside  was,  the  con- 
necting wire  leading  to  I  lie-  starting,  stopping,  or  reversing; 
s\\  itc'h.  thence  to  the  motor.  Another  wire,  leading  from, 
the-  motor, passed  through  a  light  hinged  shaft,  upon  the 
end  "I1  which  was  a  two-foot  metal  wheel,  thus  completing 
the  circuit  with  the  rail.  The  current  passed  through  a, 
reduction  coil  before  reaching  the  motor,  and  was  thus 
brought  clown  to  the  proper  resistance  at  which  the  motor 
was  built  to  run,  otheru  ise  a  burned-out  apparatus  would 
be  the  certain  result. 

This  was  not  the  first  time  I  had  handled  the  Fleetichuj, 
having  made  any  number  of  short  trips,  none  exceeding  a 
hundred  miles.  Joe's  route  was:  Starting  at  Jersey  City, 
New  Jersey,  we  were  to  cross  the  State-,  and  keep  as  near 
directly  WTest  as  the  trolley- wire  would  take  us,  taking 
in  Chicago  (now  the  first  city  in  population  in  the  United 
States)  and  other  important  Western  cities,  with  Denver 
our  turning-point. 

Joe  kissed  his  mother,  gave  his  father's  hand  a  hard  shake, 
jumped  up  behind  me,  and  we  were  off.  Look  back  once 
more',  my  boy;  a  mother's  tearful  eyes  no  longer  see  you, 
but  your  image  is  always  in  her  heart ! 

We  had  been  >adly  mixed  without  our  good  map  of  all 
the  trolley -roads.  They  cross  and  recross,  and  seem  to 
shoot  out  in  every  direction  in  the  eastern  part  of  New 
Jersey. 

On  a  good  straight  road  at  last,  with  a  clean  run  of  thirty 
miles  before  us!  How  we  do  spin!  The  motor  hums  not 
unlike  a  swarm  of  angry  bees.  For  a  bright  June  morning 
the  weather  seems  a  trifle  cool.  A  light  overcoat  in  sum- 
mer? Well,  just  face  a  mild  westerly  wind,  early  in  the 
morning,  sitting  quietly  on  an  electrically  propelled  bike  at, 
say,  thirty  miles  an  hour,  and  you  will  find  an  overcoat  is 
not  to  be  sneezed  at,  or,  rather,  some  sneezing  will  result 
if  you  try  to  do  without  it. 

Space  will  not  permit  to  give  you  many  details  of  our 
trip,  which  caused  two  weeks  to  pass  so  quickly.  Mishaps 
we  had,  repairs  to  make,  but  the  same  machine  was  bring- 
ing us  nearer  home  each  minute.  Two  o'clock  now;  by  six 
we  are  due  in  New  York. 

A  Chicago  chap — we  met  him — seemed  rather  smart  and 
all  that,  had  a  contrivance  for  working  an  air-ship  by 
trolley-wire.  His  scheme  was  to  sail  along  near  enough, 
the  ground  to  drop  a  trailer  on  the  street  wire,  and  so  ob- 
tain a  current  to  run  his  aerial  machine. 

"My  son,"  said  I,  "  how  do  you  expect  to  make  a  com- 
plete circuit  with  but  one  wire?" 

"That  is  part  of  uiy  invention,"  said  he. 

Whether  he  made  a  success  of  it  or  not  I  have  no  means 
ol' knowing,  but  I  liked  the  idea. 

We  crossed  the  Pavonia  bridge  from  Jersey  City  to  New- 
York  on  time,  had  just  reached  the  terminus  when  the  Ex- 


475 


HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE 


AT   THIRTY   MILES    AN    HOUR. 


press  Air-ship  Maxim  rose  from  the  depot  at  Union  Square 
and  headed  for  Albany,  looking  very  much  like  au  immense 
shooting-star. 

The  railroads  have  bad  a  severe  setback  since  Maxim  has 
perfected  his  aerial  engines  and  light  machinery.  Freight 
they  still  carry,  but  railway  passenger  traffic  has  fallen  oft' 
to  a  marked  extent,  even  with  trains  running  at  one  hun- 
dred miles  per  hour. 

Who  would  care  nowadays  to  spend  an  hour  and  a  half 
in  the  cars  between  New  York  and  Albany  when  the  Mujrim 
will  do  it  in  forty-five  minutes! 

Strange  creatures,  to  me,  these  women.  I  have  never 
married.  Joe's  mother  wept  when  we  left,  and  I  am  blamed 
if  she  is  not  crying  this  minute.  "  What !" 

"You  too,  Joe?     I — " 


OFF   WITH  THE   MERBOY. 

BY  JOHN  KENDRICK  BANGS. 
CHAPTER    III. 
UNDER  WATER. 

SN'T  that  interesting?"  asked 


the 


Merboy  when  be  bad  finished. 

"Very,"  returned  Jimmieboy. 
"But  I  don't  see  how  it  proves 
that  the  Porpoise  knew  any  more 
than  the  Professor.  Did  he  kno\v 
why  men  have  chins  and  why 
boys  are  noisy  ?" 

"  I  dou't  suppose  be  did,"  re- 
turned the  Merboy;  "but  even  if 
he  didn't  his  ignorance  wasn't  any 

greater  than  that  of  the  Professor,  while  the  Professor  had 
to  admit  that  there  wasn't  anything  he  could  tell  the  Por- 
poise that  the  Porpoise  hadn't  heard  before.  That  proved 
that  the  Porpoise  knew  quite  as  much  as  the  Professor  did  ; 
and  the  fact  that  the  Porpoise  knew  how  to  get  the  Profess- 
or home  while  the  Professor  didn't,  showed  that  the  Por- 
poise knew  more  than  he  did.  That  simply  proves  what  1 
have  already  said,  that  sea  creatures  know  more  than  laud 


creatures  --  even 
Porpoises,  and  they 
know  h'.ss  than 
any  other  kind  of 
fish." 

"It  looks  true," 
said  Jimmieboy. 
"But  I  hardly  be- 
lieve it,  though." 

"Well,  you'd 
better,"  retorted 
the  Merboy.  "  Why, 
people  of  your  kind 
say  themselves 
that  fish  is  good 
for  their  brains. 
Why  should  this 
be  so  if  fish  weren't 
•what  I've  said  they 
are  ?" 

"That's  so!" 
Jimmieboy  answer- 
ed, convinced  at 
hist.  "  But  it 
seems  queer." 

"That's  because 
yon  don't  under- 
stand it,"  said  the 
Merboy,  patroniz- 
ingly. "If  you 
were  a  fish  you'd 
understand  it,  but 
bring  a  boy  you 
can't  be  expected 
to.  It's  simple 

enough.  You  people  on  land  are  kept  so  busy  all  day  long 
earning  your  living  that  you  don't  have  time  really  to 
study.  On  the  other  band,  we  sea  people  don't  do  any- 
thing but  swim  about  all  day  and  think.  Didn't  you  ever 
notice  me  up  there  in  the  aquarium  lying  perfectly  motion- 
less in  the  water  with  my  eyes  gazing  off  on  both  sides  of 
me  with  a  far-away  look  in  them?" 

"Often,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "And  I've  wondered  every 
time  what  you  really  were  doing.  Were  you  always  think- 
ing at  those  times?" 

"  Always,"  said  the  Merboy.  "Always  studying  out  some- 
thing." 

"And  did  you  ever  find  out  anything  ?"  queried  Jininiie- 
boy. 

"Yes,"  said  the  Merboy.  "I've  found  out  everything; 
but,"  he  added,  hastily,  "  don't  ask  nie  to  tell  you  everything 
now  because  these  Dolphins  are  a  little  skittish,  and  I've 
got  to  keep  my  mind  on  them  or  we'll  be  upset." 

Here  one  of  the  Dolphins,  to  show  how  skittish  he  could 
be  when  he  tried,  stood  erect  on  his  tail,  and  then  took  a 
header  deep  down  into  the  water,  and  in  a  moment  Jiin- 
mieboy  found  himself  clinging  in  alarm  to  the  Meiboy's 
arm. 

"  Dou't  do  that  I"  cried  the  Merboy,  "  or  you'll  surely  upset 
us." 

"I  was  afraid  he'd  drag  us  under,"  panted  Jimmieboy. re- 
leasing his  hold. 

"  Drag  us  under  ?"  repeated  the  Merboy.  "  Why,  my 
dear  boy,  we  are  under.  We've  been  driving  under  water 
lor  tfii  minutes  now.  In  ten  more  we  shall  be  on  the 
ocean's  bottom." 

Jimmieboy  pressed  his  lips  as  tightly  together  as  be  pos- 
sibly could.  If,  as  the  Merboy  had  said,  he  was  uuder 
water  and  headed  directly  for  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  he 
was  not  going  to  run  auy  risks  by  opening  his  mouth  and 
getting  it  full  of  sea-water,  which  he  knew  from  experience 
was  not  the  pleasautest-tastiug  stuff  in  the  world.  He  was 
a  cautious  boy  too,  Jimmieboy  was,  and  he  had  a  distinct 
recollection  of  having  heard  his  father  warn  a  friend  of  his 
at  the  sea-shore  one  summer's  day  not  to  open  his  mouth 
too  widely  when  he  was  in  bathing,  for  fear  he  might  take 
in  the  ocean  at  a  gulp,  which  would  be  a  dreadful  thing  to 
do. 


47G 


HAEPEE'S   EOUND   TABLE 


"Dou't  make  such  fearful  faces,"  said  the  Merboy,  noti- 
cing Jimmieboy's  efforts  to  squeeze  bis  two  lips  into  one. 
"You'll  frighten  the  whales." 

"  Mwime  mfwaid  rugettiug  mwater  iu  m'  mouf,"  mumbled 
Jimmieboy. 

"Excuse  me,"  said  tbe  Merboy,  looking  at  bim  as  if  be 
thought  be  TV  as  crazy.  "I  never  studied  that  language, 
and  I  don't  know  what  you  are  trying  to  say  ;  open  your 
mouth  and  speak  English." 

"Mwime  mfwaid, "mumbled  Jimmieboy  again,  meaning 
to  say  "  I'm  afraid." 

"Whoa!"  cried  tbe  Merboy,  reining  iu  bis  Dolphins. 
"Now  look  here,  Jamesboy,"  he  added,  severely,  as  the  car- 
riage came  to  a  stop,  "  I  won't  take  yon  any  further  if  you 
don't  stop  that.  My  relatives  down  here  have  been  very 
anxious  to  meet  you,  because  I've  written  to  them  several 
times  telling  them  all  about  you  ;  but  I  can  tell  you  just  one 
thing.  If  you  are  going  to  make  faces  like  that,  and  talk 
with  your  lips  tight  closed  and  your  voice  way  down  in 
your  boots,  not  to  mention  tbe  horrible  language  you  are 
using,  they  won't 
have  anything 
to  do  with  you, 
and  they'll  think 
I  got  you  out  of 
a  circus  instead 
of  at  your  home. 
What's  come 
over  you  all  of 
a  sudden,  any- 
how ?" 

Poor  Jimmie- 
boy didn't  know 
what  to  do.  He 
had  no  wish  to 
offend  tbe  Mer- 
boy or  to  fright- 
en whales  or  to 
prove  unpleas- 
ant to  the  Mer- 
boy's  friends,  but 
he  also  did  not 
care  TO  get  a 
mouthful  nf  .salt 
water. 

Fortunately  at 
this  moment  a 
Porpoise,  who 
•was  on  duty  as  a 
policeman  iu 
that  neighbor- 
hood came  swim- 
ming up,  attracted,  no  doubt,  by  tbe  somewhat  angry  tones 
of  the  Merboy. 

"What's  the  matter  here?"  be  said,  frowning  with  his 
left  eyebrow  and  using  bis  right  eye  to  look  pleasant,  for 
if  everything  was  all  right  he  wauted  to  look  pleasant, 
while  the  frown  was  for  use  iu  case  there  was  danger  of  a 
disturbance. 

"Nothing, Mr. Policeman," answered  tbe  Merboy,  nodding 
familiarly  at  the  Porpoise.  "  I  am  afraid  my  little  friend 
here  isn't  feeling  very  well,  and  I  was  only  trying  to  find 
out  what  the  trouble  was." 

"He  does  look  kind  of  queer  like, doesn't  be  ?"  said  the 
Porpoise,  gazing  at  Jimniieboy's  lips.  "  He  looks  to  mo  as 
if  he  were  trying  to  swallow  his  teeth.  Is  he  taken  this 
•way  often  ?" 

"Never  saw  him  like  this  before,"  said  the  Merboy.  anx- 
iously. "  It's  something  new  for  bim  to  keep  his  mouth 
shut  up  so  tight,  and  I  can't  understand  it." 

"  Perhaps — "  the  Porpoise  began ;  "  but  no,"  he  added,  "  I 
was  going  to  say  I'd  arrest  bim  for  being  disorderly,  for  he 
certainly  is  out  of  order,  but  I'm  afraid  the  judge  would 
fine  me.  I  lost  my  last  month's  pay  for  arresting  a  shark 
by  mistake.  Some  shark  swallowed  a  whole  school  of 
whitebait  last  week,  and  as  the  teachers  of  the  school  com- 
plained about  having  their  business  ruined  I  had  to  arrest 
some  one.  These  sharks  are  all  alike,  you  know,  and  I  got 


hold  of  the  wrong  one,  and  the  judge  let  him  off  and  made 
me  pay  the  damages.  I'm  afraid  we  couldn't  make  out  a 
case  against  this  young  man." 

"  No ;  and  we  shouldn't  try  it  if  we  could,"  said  tbe  Mer- 
boy. "I  don't  want  to  get  him  into  trouble.  He's  my 
friend." 

"Well — say,"  said  the  Porpoise.  "I'll  tell  you  how  wo 
can  rind  out  what's  the  matter.  There's  a  bureau  of  infor- 
mation about  two  hundred  and  thirty  fathoms  up  the  street. 
They  know  everything  there.  You  might  drive  up  there 
and  find  out  what  ails  him." 

"  That's  a  good  idea,"  said  tbe  Merboy.  "  Who  is  in 
charge  of  the  bureau  ?" 

"Nobody.  It  just  lies  there  at  the  side  of  the  street. 
You'll  find  tbe  most  interesting  information  in  the  top 
drawer.  You  can't  miss  tbe  bureau,  because  it's  tbe  only 
one  in  the  ocean,  and  it  has  brass  knobs  ou  it,  and  a  brush 
and  comb  ou  the  top  of  it.  So  long." 

"  Good-by,"said  the  Merboy,  as  the  Porpoise  with  another 
curious  glance  at  Jimmieboy  swam  away.  Then  the  Mer- 
boy, turning  the 
Dolphins'  beads 
in  the  direction 
of  the  bureau, 
started  them 
along.  "  I  shall 
feel  very  badly 
if  this  is  a  case 
of  lockjaw,"  he 
said  to  himself. 
"His  parents 
would  drive  me 
out  of  the  bouse, 
and  I  don't  think 
I'd  be  likely  to 
get  as  nice  a  place 
anywhere  else." 
"M-mwi  a- 
weut  wot  wock- 
waw,"  mumbled 
Jimmieboy. 

"Don't  say  an- 
other word  or 
you'll  drive  me 
crazy,"  returned 
the  Merboy. 
"This  is  simply 
awful  as  it  is, 
but  when  you 
talk  it's  worse 
than  awful,  it  is 
horrific.  Ah,  I 

fancy  this  must  be  the  bureau,"  ho  added,  drawing  up 
alongside  of  a  beautiful  piece  of  furniture  that  stood  at  the 
road-side  and  looked  very  much  like  a  bureau.  "  Hold  the 
Dolphins,  Jimmieboy,  and  I'll  get  out  and  see  if  there's  any 
information  to  be  had  iu  regard  to  your  case." 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


•IS    HE    TAKEN    THIS    WAY    OFTEN?"    ASKED    TUB    PORPOISE. 


MISS  APPOLINA'S  CHOICE. 

BY  AGNES  LITTLETON. 
IDart  *E. 

MISS  APPOLINA  BRIGGS  was  somewhat  of  a  power 
iu  the  Reid  family.  She  was  a  cousin  of  the  fathers 
of  Millieeut,  Joanna,  and  Peggy,  their  fathers  being  bro- 
thers, and  for  many  years  when  they  were  boys  she  had 
made  her  home  with  their  parents.  She  now,  however, 
had  a  house  of  her  own. 

She  was  very  wealthy,  very  aristocratic,  and  very  ec- 
centric. Kind-hearted  and  charitable,  she  preferred  to  do 
good  in  her  own  way  only. 

A  mouth  or  two  ago  Miss  Briggs  had  informed  her  rel- 
atives that  she  intended  to  pass  tbe  summer  in  England, 
and  that  it  was  barely  possible  that  she  would  ask  one  of 
her  young  cousins  to  accompany  her.  \Vhich  should  be  the 


477 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


fortunate  one  she  should  not  decide  until  a  week  before  the 
date  fixed  for  stilling.  That  would  he  time  enough,  she 
said,  for  no  preparations  would  be  necessary.  All  the  girl's 
wants  could  be  supplied  on  the  other  side. 

This  proposition  sounded  very  attractive,  for  Cousin  Ap- 
)>olina  was  generous  even  though  she  was  so  peculiar, and 
there  was  no  doubt  that  in  addition  to  having  the  pleasure 
of  the  trip,  a  well-stocked  wardrobe  would  fall  to  the  share 
of  the  lucUy  recipient  of  her  favor. 

As  Peggy  had  said,  there  was  not  much  probability  that 
she  would  be  the  one  honored.  She  had  a  liaiiit  of  making 
all  sorts  of  speeches  in  Miss  Briggs's  presence  \\hich  did 
not  please  the  good  lady  at  all.  And  yet  no  oiie  knew.  It 
would  be  just  like  Cousin  Appolina's  unexpectedness  if  she 
were  to  veer  suddenly  around  and  decree  that  Margaret,  as 
she  always  called  her.  should  be  the  one  to  go  to  England. 

Consequently,  suspense  and  excitement  ran  high  in  the 
Reid  family,  anil  in  the  intervals  of  study,  fair  work,  and 
poetry-making  there  was  much  discussion  as  to  which  of 
the  three  should  be  Miss  Appoliua's  choice. 

She  herself  had  gone  to  Washington  for  a  few  weeks, 
and  the  family  breathed  more  easily  for  a  time.  When  so 
much  depended  upon  it  the  girls  were  greatly  afraid  of  do- 
ing something  to  offend  their  cousin,  which  might  very 
easily  happen,  and  in  that  case  she  would  sail  alone  with 
her  maid  ! 

In  the  mean  time  preparations  foi  the  fair  continued,  and 
at  last  the  day  arrived.  Millieent,  having  convinced  her- 
self that  this  would  be  the  best  means  of  securing  the  rec- 
ognition of  her  powers  as  a  poetess  that  she  wanted,  the 
recognition  which  had  hitherto  been  denied  her  by  unfeel- 
ing editors,  had  been  reeling  off  verse  by  the  yard. 

Each  poem  had  been  printed  in  the.  form  of  a  little  fancy 
booklet,  at  considerable  expense  to  the  author,  it  is  true, 
but  the  girls  had  plenty  of  pocket  money,  and  Millieent 
had  eased  her  conscience  with  the  thought  that  her  object 
was  charity  as  well  as  recognition,  and  each  copy  that  was 
sold  would  bring  in  twenty-five  cents  to  the  fair.  She  had 
raised  the  price  since  the  poems  came  home — she  had  no 
idea  that  they  would  look  so  attractive,  she  said.  They 
would  be  sure  to  sell. 

Peggy  had  helped  her  with  a  readiness  that  would  have 
appeared  suspicious  if  Millieent  had  not  been  too  much  ab- 
sorbed in  sentiment  to  notice  it.  She  had  accompanied  her 
cousin  to  make  arrangements  for  having  the  poems  printed, 
and  had  inspected  them  on  their  return,  and  now  the  morn- 
ing upon  which  the  fair  was  to  open  she  offered  to  carry 
the  box  which  contained  them  to  an  office  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, and  have  them  sent  to  Sherry's,  where  the  fair  was 
to  be  held,  by  a  district  telegraph  boy. 

"It  is  much  better  than  ringing  for  a  messenger-boy  to 
come  to  the  house."  she  said,  "  for  then  no  one  can  lind  out 
in  any  way  who  'Pearl  Proctor'  is.  I  shall  lie  on  hand 
when  the  box  arrives  so  that  I  can  hear  what  people  say. 
but  you  had  better  not  come  until  afterwards,  Mill,  for  your 
Ayface  would  be  sure  to  give  it  away." 

The  fancy  articles,  including  Miss  Briggs's  slippers,  had 
already  been  sent. 

Joanna  went  to  school,  longing  for  the  morning  to  pass 
that  she  might  get  to  the  fair  herself.  She  and  one  of  her 
friends  were  to  manage  the  "  fish  pond,"  while  Milliceut 
was  to  be  an  aid  at  the  flower-table,  and  Peggy  would  as- 
sist in  selling  some  of  the  fancy  articles. 

Peggy  left  the  package  at  the  office,  and  then  hailed  a 
car,  that  she  might  not  fail  to  reach  the  fair  in  time  to  wit- 
ness its  arrival.  She  looked  forward  to  having  some  rare 
sport.  She  only  wished  that  she  could  take  some  one  into 
her  confidence,  for  it  is  always  so  much  more  fun  to  laugh 
with  a  comrade  than  to  laugh  alone.  However,  a  laugh  is 
valuable  at-  any  time. 

So  thought  Miss  Peggy  as  she  made  her  way  along 
Thirth-seventh  Street  in  her  new  spring  hat  and  gown,  her 
eyes  dancing  with  anticipation. 

The  poem  on  Cousin  Appolina  had  been  tucked  into  the 
box  along  with  the  rest,  but  very  much  underneath.  In 
that  way  Peggy  felt  confident  that  it.  would  escape  obser- 
vation at  the  fair,  and  yet  be  among  the  poems  to  give 
Millieent  a  shock  when  thev  came  back. 


"For  of  course  no  one  is  going  to  buy  those  silly  things," 
said  Peggy  to  herself;  "  and  I  hope  it  will  be  a  good  lesson 
to  Milly.  Such  conceit  as  hers  in  regard  to  that  poetry  I 
never  saw,  and  it  ought  to  In-  taken  down." 

She  found  the  rooms  in  a  state  of  disorder.  Various 
fashionable  dames  who  had  the  fair  in  charge  were  running 
about  in  a  vain  attempt  to  bring  some  degree  of  order  out 
of  the  confusion,  and  Peggy's  coming  was  hailed  with  de- 
light. 

"Oh,  Peggy  Reid!  Just  the  person  1  want.  Peggy, 
dear,  do  hold  the  end  of  this  scarf  while  I  fasten  it  here." 

"Peggy,  just  see  if  you  can  find  the  tack-hammer." 

"  Peggy,  you  have  just  come,  and  can  see  things  vith  a 
fresh  eye.  Tell  me  the  effect  of  this  drapery." 

But  notwithstanding  all  these  calls  upon  her.  Peggy 
managed  to  be  conveniently  near  the  door  when  a  messen- 
ger-boy appeared,  hearing  a  box  addressed,  in  a  printed 
hand,  to  Mrs.  Pearson,  who  had  charge  of  the  fair.  Peggy 
took  the  box,  dismissed  the  boy  hastily,  and  carried  it  to 
Mrs.  Pearson. 

"Something  else?  Oh,  do  open  it,  Peggy!  I  am  so 
busy,"  exclaimed  (hat  lady,  precisely  as  Peggy  hoped  she 
would  do.  She  opened  the  box — that  which  she  herself 
had  so  carefully  tied  up  not  long  before. 

On  the  top  lay  a  type-written  card,  which  read,  "Sent 
by  one  of  the  congregation,  w  ho  hopes  that  they  may  bring 
twenty-live  cents  apiece."  Beneath  were  a  number  of  little 
booklets. 

"  Why, Mrs.  Pearson,  do  look!  Somebody  lias  sent  some 
poems  to  sell,"  cried  Peggy,  in  tones  of  great  surprise.  "A 
member  of  the  congregation,  and  they  are  signed  '  Pearl 
Proctor'!  Who  in  the  world  can  it  be  !" 

Several  people  gathered  about. 

"  How  very  funny  !  One  of  the  congregation  ?  Who  do 
you  suppose  it  is?  I  wish  I  had  time  to  read  them."  said 
Mrs.  Pearson.  "They  are  certainly  a  novelty  at  a  fair. 
Twenty-five  cents  she  values  them  at  ?  The  lady  is  modest. 
But  take  care,  girls,"  she  added,  in  a  warning  whisper,  ap- 
proaching two  young  women  who  were  laughing  immoder- 
ately over  one  of  Pearl  Proctor's  productions,  "yon  must  be 
careful!  No  one  knows  who  wrote  them,  and  the  person 
may  be  in  the  room  watching  us  at  this  very  minute.  It 
will  never  do  to  hurt  her  feelings." 

"  Oh,  but,  Mrs.  Pearson,  if  you  could  only  read  this!  It 
is  the  funniest  thing  I  ever  read,  and  the  best  part  of  it  is, 
it  isn't  meant  to  be  at  all." 

"  Never  mind,  don't  laugh.  I  beg  of  you!  How  did  they 
get  here,  Peggy  ?" 

"A  messenger- boy  brought  them,"  returned  Peggy 
promptly,  feeling  very  glad  that  Millieent  was  not  here  to 
see  the  effect  they  produced.  She  was  almost  sorry  that 
she  had  urged  her  to  send  them.  After  all  it  seemed  a 
shame  to  make  fun  of  the  poor  dear. 

"Well,  do  be  careful,  girls."  said  Mrs.  Pearson,  as  she 
moved  away. 

An  hour  or  so  later  Millieent  herself  walked  into  the 
rooms.  She  looked  very  lovely,  for  her  beautiful  golden 
hair  had  twisted  into  little  curls  and  waves,  the  morning 
being  somewhat  damp,  and  there  was  an  unusual  sparkle  iu 
her  dreamy  blue  eyes.  It  was  very  exciting  to  have  one's 
poems  actually  for  sale. 

The  lirst  thing  that  met  her  gaze  was  a  large  sign  placed 
a  box  e  a  small  table.  Upon  the  table  lay  the  array  of  book- 
lets, while  the  sign  read  thus: 

"A  NOVELTY:    POEMS  BY  PEARL  PROCTOR, 

A     3IEMEEII    OF     THE    CiiNUI-.EGATION. 

'fir*  t>h/-fir<     (V/,/\    J-'in'h ." 

She  did  not  have  •sufficient  courage  to  walk  boldly  np 
with  the  air  of  a  stranger  and  inspect  the  wares  thus  offered 
for  sale,  so  she  turned  aside  and  began  to  talk  to  some  of 
her  friends,  asking  what  she  could  do  to  help. 

"  My  dear, "said  Elsie  Pearson,  living  up  to  her.  and  speak- 
ing in  a  whisper,  "I  am  so  glad  you  ha.ve.  come!  I  must 
tell  you  the  greatest  joke  iu  the  world.  Somebody  has 
sent  a  lot  of  poems  to  the  fair  to  sell!  Did  you  ever  hear 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


of  anything  so  delicious?  Mamma  says  we  ought  not  to 
laugh,  for  the  person  who  wrote  them  may  be  in  the  room, 
but  it  is  too  awfully  finiiiy  not  to  laugh  the  least  bit,  and 
I  know  you  arc  safe." 

Milliceut  smiled  stiffly.  "Are  they  funny  poems?"  she 
asked.  "You  seem  to  find  them  amusing." 

Klsie  would  have  noticed  her  tone  if  she  had  not  been  so 
excited  and  in  such  haste. 

••  They  are  not  meant  to  be,"  she  said,  aloud,  as  she  moved 
away.  "That  is  the  best  part  of  the  whole  thing." 

Millicent,  left  alone,  felt  as  if  she  could  cry  with  pleasure. 
How  perfectly  outrageous  it  \vas  in  that  odious  Elsie  Pear- 
son to  talk  in  such  a  way  !  The  only  comfort  was  that  Klsie 
was  anything  but  intellectual,  and  would  not  know  good 
poetry  when  she  saw  it.  She  would  probably  fail  to  see 
any  beauty  in  Tennyson. 

Peggy  hail  watched  this  conference  from  across  the 
room;  and  she  now  came  quickly  over  to  her  cousin. 
"Look  out.  Mill," she  said  in  a  low  tone,  ''you  will  have  to 
be  awfully  careful  that  no  one  catches  on.  If  I  were  you 
I  wouldn't  stay  so  near  the  poetry  table." 

Peggy,  already  deeply  regretting  her  joke,  wished  to  spare 
her  cousin  as  much  as  possible.  l!ut  her  good  intentions 
were  frustrated  by  Mrs.  Pearson. 

"Millicent,"  said  that  lady,  "we  have  had  some  new 
•wares  sent  in;  something  I  never  saw  before  at  a  fair. 
Poems,  my  dear.  Just  think  of  it;  and  by  a  member  of  the 
congregation!  We  can't  imagine  who  wrote  them,  and  of 
course  they  are  perfect  trash  "(this  in  a  low  voice), "but 
we  will  have  to  do  our  best  to  sell  them,  so  I  want  you  to 
take  charge  of  that  table.  You  won't  mind  changing,  1 
know.  And  try  not  to  let.  the  people  laugh  at  the  poems. 
They  are  absurd,  I  know,  judging  from  one  I  picked  up.  It 
•was  about  a  moth  or  an  ant  or  something.  1  am  not  sure 
that  it  was  not  a  Croton  bug,"  and  with  a  laugh  at  her  ow  n 
wit  Mrs.  Pearson  led  Millicent  to  the  poetry  table,  and 
established  her  behind  it. 

It  was  now  twelve  o'clock,  the  hour  at  which  the  fair 
was  to  be  opened  to  the  public. 

Two  or  three  hours  later  the  sale  was  in  full  swing.  A 
great  many  people  came,  for  it  was  in  every  respect  a  fash- 
ionable function,  and  it  was  considered  quite  the  thing  to 
be  seen  there.  People  bought  largely  also  of  every  variety 
of  article — except  poetry.  That  seemed  to  go  a-begging. 

There  was  always  a  crowd  about  the  table,  but  no  oue 
felt  inclined  to  purchase.  The,  little  booklets  were  picked 
up,  read,  dropped  again,  with  laughter  and  comments,  until 
Millicent  felt  that  she  would  gladly  sink  through  the 
floor. 

Even  her  own  mother  came,  criticised,  and  moved  on, 
with  a  whispered  question  to  Millicent  as  to  \vhat  member 
of  the  congregation  could  have  been  so  conceited  and  so 
senseless  as  to  do  such  a  thing  as  this. 

Millicent's  head  ached,  and  tears  tilled  her  eyes,  and  she 
thought  the  climax  had  been  reached  when  Elsie  Pearson, 
picking  one  up  at  random,  said, laughingly : 

"Just  listen  to  this,  Milly !  It  is  the  gem  of  the  whole 
collection.  I  can't  help  it  if  the  'member  of  the  congrega- 
tion '  does  see  me.  She  deserves  to  be  made  fun  of."  And 
Elsie  in  a  whisper  read  the  following: 

"  TO    THE    MARCH    WINII. 

"  Loud  and  shrill,  loud  and  shrill, 
List  to  the  wild  March  wind  ! 
And  the  heart  of  the  mariner  trembles 
As  he  sails  his  rudder  behind. 

"My  dear,  the  '  member'  is  a  little  mixed!  Does  she  mean 
the  mariner  sails  behind  the  rudder,  or  the  rudder  sails  be- 
hind the  mariner?  Did  you  em;  Milliceut  ?  1  don't  be- 
lieve she  knows  which  part  of  a  ship  the  rudder  is.  And 
this  is  the  second  verse: 

"  And  the  bell  on  the  bleak  beach  bellows. 
(There's  alliteration  for  you.      Fancy  a  bell  bellowing  !) 
And  the   fog-horn  lifts  its  voice, 


And   the  mariner  goes  to  an  early  grave, 
He  has  no  other  choice. 


"Oh,  Milly!  isn't  it  funny  ?     Why  don't  yon  laugh  ?" 

"I  am  laughing,"  said  Milliceut,  in  a  hoarse  voice  ;  "it 
makes  me  perfectly  hysterical,"  and  she  hid  her  face  for  a, 
moment  in  her  handkerchief.  Fortunately  Elsie  was  at  that 
moment  called  away. 

Millicent  found  to  her  cost,  as  the  afternoon  wore  ou, 
that  the  climax  had  not  been  even  then. 

Joanna  had  come  late  to  the  fair,  detained  by  school  and 
luncheon  until  four  o'clock.  »She  had  found  no  one  at 
home,  not  even  her  mother,  but  she  had  heard  from  the 
maid  a  piece  of  news  which  caused  her  heart  to  bound  with 

exeltement    ;|]|<1  consternation. 

('ousiu  Appolina  had  returned  very  unexpectedly  from 
Washington  ! 

Joanna  decided  that  she  must  tell  Millicent  as  soon  as 
she  reached  the  fair,  so  that  the  slippers  might  be  removed 
at  once.  It  would  be  better  to  be  ou  the  safe  side,  although 
it,  was  extremely  improbable  that  Cousin  Appoliuu  would 
A  isit  the  fair  the  first  day  of  her  return. 

But  just  as  Joanna  came  out  of  the  front  door  Miss 
Briggs  herself  drove  up  in  her  carriage,  and  learning  that 
no  one  was  at  home  in  either  of  her  relatives'  houses,  but 
that  all  had  gone  to  the  fair,  concluded  to  betake  herself 
there  also,  and  forthwith  invited  Joanna,  to  get  in  and 
drive  with  her  to  Sherry's. 

Joanna,  nothing  loth,  accepted  the  invitation,  feeling 
rather  glad  on  the  whole  that  her  cousin  had  returned  in 
time,  for  she  would  be  Mire  to  spend  her  money  freely,  and 
Joan  was  greatly  interested  in  the  success  of  the  sale. 
And,  alas!  she  forgot  all  about  the.  worsted  slippers! 

They  presented  their  tickets,  and  entered  the  room  just 
as  Millicent  had  buried  her  face  in  her  handkerchief  upon 
hearing  the  remarks  of  Klsie  1'earson.  When  she  emerged 
therefrom  the  lirsi  thing  that  met  her  astonished  gaze  was 
the  tall  and  never-to-be-forgotten  form  of  Cousin  Appolina 
Briggs,  and  her  heart  sank  with  apprehension.  For  a  mo- 
ment the  works  of  her  unappreciated  genius  were  for- 
gotten. Her  one  thought  was  "slippers!" 

"  <>h,  that  I  had  never  sent  those  horrible  slippers!"  she 
said  to  herself  despairingly.  "It  will  be  just  my  luck  to 
h,i\  e  her  see  them,  anil  would  serve  me  right,  too,  for  hav- 
ing .niveii  away  a  present.  Yes,  she  is  going  that  way! 
Oh,  if  I  could  only  make  Peggy  or  Joan  come  here!  They 
could  go  and  buy  the  slippers  before  she  gets  there." 

But  Peggy  and  Joan  were  not  forth-coming.  The  latter, 
full  of  business,  had  lost  no  time  in  retiring  behind  the 
screen  which  formed  the  "  fish-pond,''  and  was  already  bait- 
ing the  hook  with  ardor,  and  queerly  shaped  packages,  and 
Peggy  had  not  yet  seen  her  cousin,  and  supposed  her  to  be 
33  fe  at  Washington. 

But  Miss  Briggs  was  not   i to  remain  long  unnoticed. 

She  was  of  commanding  height  and  noble  breadth.  When 
she  entered  a  room  the  rest  of  humanity  seemed  to  grow 
smaller  by  comparison.  Her  voice  was  deep  and  had  a 
|ienei  rating  quality  which  caused  it  to  be  heard  at  an  un- 
usual distance,  and  the  gold  lorgnette,  without  which  she 
was  never  seen,  and  which  she  was  in  the  habit  of  raising 
constantly  to  her  short-sighted  and  somewhat  prominent 
eyes,  flashed  and  glittered  in  the  light. 

Truly  Miss  Appolina's  was  a  presence  calculated  to  make 
itself  felt.  And  Peggy  felt  it,  and  she  heard  the  voice,  and 
a  tremor  that  seemed  like  fear  filled  her  naturally  courage- 
ous heart.  She  looked  at  Cousin  Appolina,  and  she  looked 
ul  the  poet  r\  (able.  There  was  yet  time.  Leaving  abruptly 
a  ciiMomcr  who  was  on  the  verge  of  making  an  important 
purchase,  who  only  needed  a  word  of  advice  from  Miss 
Peggy  Reid  as  to  which  was  the  prettier,  a  centre-piece 
embroidered  in  yellow,  or  a  table-cloth  done  in  greens,  she 
flew  to  the  side  of  Millicent. 

"The  poems!"  she  gasped.     "Have  any  of  them  sold  .'" 

"Not  one,"  said  Millicent,  "  but  oh,  Peggy;  there  is  Cou- 
sin Appolina!" 

"I  know,"  returned  Peggy,  breathlessly,  as  she  turned 
over  the  booklets — "I  know!  That's  just  it  !" 

"But  the  slippers,  Peggy!  Go  and  get  them.  I  don't 
dare." 

"The   slippers!     They  are  nothing  to  the  poetry.      01 
where  is  it  ?" 


479 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"IS  NOT    MILLJCENT    CAPABLE   OF    SPEAKING    FOR    HEKSELF?" 


And  she  tossed  the  poems  hither  and  thither,  lookiug  first 
iuto  one,  then  into  another. 

"Oh,  where  is  it?" 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Peggy  ?  Don't  waste  time  over  the 
poetry.  Do  please  go  ami  buy  those  slippers!  Give  any 
price.  There,  she  is  gettiug  to  that  table  now !  It  is  too 
late !" 

There  was  a  lull  in  the  noise  at  that  moment,  and  Miss 
Briggs's  clear  deep  tones  could  be  distinctly  heard  by  the 
two  culprits. 

"  I  want  a  pair  of  knit  slippers.  I  make  a  great  many 
myself,  but  I  never  seem  to  have  any  for  my  own  use.  How- 
much  are  these  red  and  gray  ones?  A  dollar  and  a  half? 
(Jive  them  to  me,  please,  and  never  mind  about  the  change. 
1  have  not  examined  them  thoroughly,  but  if  they  do  not 
suit  me  I  will  give  them  away." 

It  was  too  late.  She  had  bought  her  own  slippers.  Mil- 
licent  hoped  that  the  gold  lorgnette  would  be  smashed  to 
atoms  before  the  lady  reached  her  home;  that  her  spec- 
tacles would  lose  themselves;  even  that  the  world  would 
come  to  an  end  before  Miss  Appolina  found  an  opportunity 
to  examine  those  red  and  gray  worsted  slippers.  That  she 
would  recognize  themMillicent  felt  no  doubt,  for  they  were 
knit  in  a  fashion  peculiar  to  herself,  the  two  colors  forming 
a  little  plaid. 

Meanwhile  Peggy  had  tossed  about  the  poems  with  no 

430 


is  guilty  of  all  this? 
It  had  come,  then  ! 
but  not  aloud  : 


result.  She  had  only  succeeded  in 
bringing  to  the  top  those  that  had 
hitherto  lain  in  safe  insignificance  at 
the  bottom. 

Now  she  stood  by  the  table  as  if 
turned  into  stone,  and  awaited  the 
approach  of  an  avenging  fate.  The 
day  of  practical  jokes  was  over  for 
her. 

She  knew,  she  felt  absolutely  confi- 
dent, that  just  as  surely  as  Cousin 
Appolina  had  chosen  the  slippers  of 
her  own  make. just  so  surely  would 
she  pounce  upon  the  poem  that  Peg- 
gy had  written  about  her. 
Miss  Briggs  drew  near. 
"  Well,  girls !"  she  said,  in  her  great  • 
deep  voice,  the  gold  lorgnette  raised 
to  her  eyes — "  well,  girls,  you  did  not 
expect  to  see  me  back  so  soon,  did 
you  ?  Washington  became  insupport- 
able. Too  many  odious-looking  peo- 
ple. I  could  not  endure  it.  What 
have  we  here?"  staring  at  the  sign, 
"  '  Poems  by  Pearl  Proctor,  a  member 
of  the  congregation '?  And  who  may 
she  be  ?  Proctor — Proctor?  I  don't 
remember  the  name  in  New  York. 
Proctor  is  a  Boston  name.  Who  is 
it,  Millicent?" 

Millicent  trembled. 
"I — I — "she  faltered. 
"Yon!"     thundered     her     cousin. 
"Never!     What  do  you  mean?" 

"Milly  didn't  mean  to  say  that," 
interposed  Peggy.  "  She  was  probably 
going  to  say  she  couldn't  tell  who  it 
is.  It  is  an  assumed  name,  we  sup- 
pose, Cousin  Appolina." 

"Is  not  Millicent  capable  of  speak- 
ing for  herself?"  inquired  Miss 
Briggs,  severely.  "  Since  when  did 
she  lose  the  power  of  speech  ?" 

The  girls  shook  in  their  shoes,  and 
held  their  peace. 

'•What  are  these  things?"  contin- 
ued this  terrible  person,  picking  up 
the  poems  disdainfully,  and  again 
putting  her  lorgnette  to  her  eyes: 
"'Ode  to  a  Firefly," Sonnet  on  the 
C'aterpiller,' '  Some  Lines  to  a  Beggar 
Child.'  Faugh  !  Who  is  the  fool  that 
But — but — what  have  we  here?" 
For  this  is  what  Miss  Appoliua  read, 


"Who  is  a  dame  of  high  degree? 
Who's  always  scolded  little  me? 
Who  is  a  sight  strange  for  to  see  ? 
Miss  Appolina  B. 

"  Who  cannot  with  her  friends  agree  ? 
Who  loves  to  feed  on  cakes  and  tea? 
Who  prides  herself  on  her  pedigree? 
Hiss  Appolina  B. 

"Who'll  soon  set  sail  across  the  sea? 
Who  will  not  take  her  cousins  throe  ? 
Who  is  an  ancient,  awful  she  ? 

Miss  Appolina  B." 

Miss  Briggs  looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  the  girls. 
The  hum  of  the  fair  went  on. 

"I  will  buy  all  of  these  poems."  she  said  in  a  voice  whicl 
filled  their  souls  with  terror:  -count  them,  and  tell  mo  the 
amount.  And  I  wish  to  see  you  both  to-morrow  morning 
at  ten  o'clock." 

Wondering,  Millicent  obeyed. 

Peggy  turned  and  fled. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


SNOW-SHOES    AND    SLEDGES. 


I!  V     KIR  K     M  U  X  R  O  E. 


CHAPTEI!     XIX. 
A   UATTLH    WITH   WOLVES. 

rPHE  remainder  of  the  journey  up  the  Tauanah  was  un- 
J_  eventful,  but  so  long  that  the  new  year  was  well  be- 
gun ere  the  sledge  party  left  it  and  turned  up  the  Gbeesah 
branch,  which  flows  in  from  the  east.  An  Indian  guide, 
procured  at  the  last  village  by  the  promise  of  a  pound  of 
tobacco  for  his  services,  accompanied  them  on  their  four 
days'  journey  up  this  river,  and  to  the  summit  of  the 
bleak  wind-swept  divide, five  hundred  feet  above  timber- 
line.  This  gave  the  dogs  a  hard  pull,  though  Jalap  Coombs 
insisted  upon  lightening  their  load  by  walking;  nor  from 
this  time  on  would  he  again  consent  to  be  treated  as  an 
invalid. 

The  summit  once  passed,  they  plunged  rapidly  down  its 
farther  side  and  into  the  welcome  shelter  of  timber  fringing 
a  tiny  stream,  whose  course  they  were  now  to  follow.  Their 
guide  called  it  the  Tiikh-loo-ga-ne-lnkh-nongh,  which,  after 
vain  attempts  to  remember,  Phil  shortened  to  "Tough 
Enough."  Jalap  Coombs,  however,  declared  that  this  was 
not  a  "  sarcumstance  "  to  the  names  of  certain  down-East 
streams  among  which  he  was  born,  and  to  prove  his  asser- 
tioii  began  to  talk  glibly 
of  the  Misquabenish,  tluj 
Keejimkoopic,  the  Kashag- 
awigamog,  the  Kahwcam- 
brjvwagamog,  and  others  of 
like  brevity,  until  Phil 
begged  him  to  take  a  rest. 

That  night,  while  the 
camp  was  buried  in  the  pro- 
found slumber  that  follow- 
ed a  day  of  unusually  hard 
work,  and  tl»c  tire  had  burn- 
ed to  a  bed  of  coals,  the  sin- 
gle long-drawn  howl  of  a 
wolf  was  borne  to  it  with 
startling  distinctness  by  the 
night  wind.  As  though  it 
were  a  signal,  it  was  an- 
swered from  a  dozen  dif- 
ferent directions  at  once. 
The  alert  dogs  sprang  from 
their  snowy  beds  with  bris- 
tling crests  and  hurled  back 
a  challenge  of  fierce  bark- 
ings; but  this,  being  an  iu- 
vidrnt  of  nightly  occur- 
rence, failed  to  arouse  the 
tired  sleepers. 

Within  a  few  minutes 
the  dread  bowlings  had  so 
increased  in  volume  that 
they  seemed  to  issue  from 
scores  of  savage  throats  and 
to  completely  encircle  the 
little  camp.  It  was  as  if 
all  the  wolves  of  the  forest, 
rendered  desperate  by  fam- 
ine, had  combined  for  a  raid 
on  the  supper  of  provisions 
so  kindly  placed  within 
their  reach.  Nearer  and 
nearer  they  came,  until  their 
dark  forms  could  be  seen 
like  shadows  of  evil  omen 
flitting  among  the  trees  and 
across  the  open  moonlit 
spaces. 

The  dogs,  at  first  eager  to 
meet  their  mortal  foes,  now 
huddled  together,  terrified 
by  overwhelming  numbers. 


Still  the  occupants  of  the  camp  slept,  unconscious  of  their 
danger.  Suddenly  there  came  a  rush,  an  unearthly  clamor 
of  .savage  outcry,  and  the  sleepers  were  roused  to  a  fearful 
wakening  by  a  confused  struggle  within  the  very  limits  of 
the  camp  and  over  their  recumbent  forms.  They  sprang 
up  with  yells  of  terror,  and  at  the  sound  of  human  voices 
the  invaders  drew  back,  snapping  and  snarling  with  rage. 

"Timber  wolves!"  shouted  Serge.  "Your  rifle,  Phil ! 
Quick!" 

Emboldened  by  this  re-enforcement,  the  dogs  advanced 
to  the  edge  of  the  camp  space,  but  with  low  growls  in  place 
of  their  former  defiant  barkings.  . 

Phil  was  trembling  with  excitement;  but  Serge,  steady- 
as  a  rock,  was  throwing  the  No.  4's  from  the  double-barrel 
and  reloading  with  buckshot,  at  the  same  time  calling  to 
C'hitsah  to  pile  wood  on  the  fire,  and  to  the  other  Indians 
not  to  fire  until  all  were  ready.  Jalap  Coombs  seized  au 
axe,  and  forgetful  of  the  bitter  cold,  was  rolling  up  his 
sleeves,  as  though  he  proposed  to  fight  the  wolves  single- 
handed.  At  the  same  time  he  denounced  them  as  pirates 
and  bloody  laud-sharks,  and  dared  them  to  come  within  his 
reach. 

"Are  you  ready?"  cried  Serge.     "Then  fire!"     And  with 


'NOW,"  CRIED  SERGE,  "ALL   MAKE   A  DASH    TOGETHER  !" 
481 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


;i  roar  that  woke  the  forest  echoes  for  miles,  the  four  guns 
poured  their  contents  into  the  dense  black  mass,  that  seem- 
ed just  ready  to  luirl  itself  for  a  second  time  upon  the  camp. 

With  frightful  bowlings  the  pack  scattered,  and  began 
to  gallop  swiftly  in  a  wide  circle  about  the  tire-lit  space. 
One  huge  brute,  frenzied  with  rage, leaped  directly  toward 
the  camp,  with  gleaming  eyes  and  frothing  mouth.  Ere  a 
gnu  could  be  levelled,  Jalap  Coombs  stepped  forward  to 
mci't  him,  and  with  a  mighty  swinging  blow  his  heavy  axe 
crushed  the  skull  of  the  on-coming  beast  as  though  it  had 
been  an  egg-shell.  Instantly  the  dogs  were  upon  him,  and 
le.-ii  ing  fiercely  at  their  fallen  enemy. 

With  the  first  shot  Phil's  nervousness  vanished,  and  as 
coolly  as  Serge  himself,  he  followed  with  levelled  rifle  the 
movements  of  the  yelling  pack  in  their  swift  circling.  At 
carh  patch  of  moonlit  space  one  or  more  of  the  fierce  brutes 
fell  before  his  unerring  fire,  until  every  shot  of  his  maga- 
zine was  exhausted. 

"Now,"  cried  Serge,  "  we  must  scatter  them.  Every  man 
take  a  firebrand  in  each  hand,  and  all  make  a  dash  to- 
gether." 

"  Yelling,"  added  Jalap  Coombs. 

"Yes, yelling  louder  than  the  wolves  themselves." 

The  plan  was  no  sooner  proposed  than  adopted.  Musky, 
Luvtnk,  big  Amook,  and  the  rest,  inspired  by  their  master's 
courage,  joined  in  the  assault,  and  before  that  fire-bearing, 
yelling,  on-rushing  line  of  humanity  and  dogs  the,  gaunt 
forest  raiders  gave  way  and  fled  in  all  directions. 

The  whole  battle  had  not  lasted  more  than  five  minutes, 
but  it  resulted  in  the  death  of  nineteen  wolves,  six  of  which 
were  despatched  by  the  sailor-man's  terrible  axe  after  the 
fight  was  over,  and  they,  more  or  less  wounded,  were  slink- 
ing away  toward  places  of  hiding.  But  the  dogs  found 
them  out,  and  they  met  a  swift  fate  at  the  hands  of  Jalap 
Coombs. 

As  he  finally  re-entered  the  camp,  di-agging  the  last  one 
behind  him,  he  remarked,  with  a  chuckle:  "  Waal,  boys,  I 
rnther  guess  our  boat's  '  high  line '  this  time,  and  I'm  free  to 
admit  that  this  here  wolf  racket  heats  most  kinds  of  fishing, 
for  genuine  entertainment,  onless  it's  fishing  for  sharks, 
which  is  exciting  at  times.  I'm  pleased  to  have  met  np 
with  this  school,  though,  for  it's  allers  comforting  to  run 
across  fresh  proofs  of  my  friend  old  Kite  Eobersou's  know- 
ingness.  He  nseter  say  consuming  the  critters.  Kite  did, 
that  wolves  was  sharks  and  sharks  was  wolves,  and  that 
neither  of 'em  warn't  no  fit  playthings  for  children,  which 
it  now  seems  to  me  he  were  correct,  as  usual." 

"He  certainly  was,"  replied  Phil,  who,  leaning  on  his 
rifle,  was  thoughtfully  regarding  the  shaggy  beast  that 
Kite  Robinson's  friend  had  just  dragged  into  camp.  "  But 
aren't  these  uncommonly  big  wolves  ?  I  never  knew  they 
grew  so  large." 

"  They  don't  generally,"  answered  Serge  ;  "  but  these  are 
of  the  same  breed  as  the  great  Siberian  wolves,  which,  you 
know,  are  noted  as  being  the  largest  and  fiercest  iu  the 
world." 

"I  don't  wonder  now  that  the  dogs  were  frightened," 
continued  Phil,  "for  this  fellow  looks  twice  as  big  as 
Amook — and  he's  no  puppy.  But,  I  say.  Serge,  you're  an 
awfully  plucky  chap.  As  for  myself,  I  must  confess  I  was 
so  badly  rattled  that  I  don't  believe  I  should  have  even. 
thought  of  a  gun  before  they  were  on  us  a  second  time." 

"If  they  had  made  a  second  rush,  not  one  of  us  would  be 
alive  to  talk  about  it  now,"  remarked  Serge,  soberly  ;  "  and 
it  was  only  the  promptness  of  our  attack  that  upset  their 
plans.  In  dealing  with  wolves  it  is  always  safest  to  force 
the  fighting;  for  while  they  are  awful  bullies,  they  are 
cowards  at  heart,  like  all  bullies  I  ever  heard  of." 

"Captain  Duff,  for  instance,"  said  Phil,  with  a  reminis- 
cent smile.  Then  he  added,  "  Anyhow,  old  man,  you  got 
us  out  of  a  bad  scrape,  for  it  isn't  every  fellow  who  would 
know  just  how  to  deal  with  a  pack  of  wolves,  especially 
when  awakened  from  a  sound  sleep  to  find  them  piling  on  top 
of  him." 

'•  I  don't  believe  it  was  quite  as  bad  as  that,"  objected 
Serge.  "  I  expect  only  the  dogs  piled  on  top  of  us  when 
they  were  driven  in.  By-the-way,  did  you  know  that  four 
of  them  were  killed  and  several  others  badly  hurt  ?" 


"No,  I  didn't,"  cried  Phil,  in  dismay.  "What  ones  are 
Killed  .'" 

"Two  from  my  team,  one  from  yours,  and  one  from  Chit- 
sab's." 

"Oh,  the  villains!"  exclaimed  the  young  leader.  "An- 
other victory  like  that  would  cripple  us.  Do  you  think 
thriv  is  any  danger  of  them  coming  back  .'" 

"Not  just  now  ;  but  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  to  hear  from 
them  again  to-morrow  night." 

"All  right.  I'm  glad  you  mentioned  it.  Now  we'll  see 
if  we  can't  have  an  interesting  reception  prepared  for 
them." 

"  Pizen  ?"  queried  Jalap  Coombs,  who  had  lighted  his 
pipe,  and  was  now  complacently  watching  the  skinning  of 
the  dead  wolves,  which  had  been  undertaken  by  the  three 
Indians. 

•'  Worse  than  that,"  answered  Phil,  significantly. 

I'.y  the  time  the  Indians  had  finished  their  task  and  break- 
fast had  been  eaten  the  usual  starting-hour  had  arrived. 
Two  of  the  wolf-skins  were  allotted  to  the  guide,  who  was 
to  leave  them  at  this  point,  and  he  set  forth  on  his  return 
journey  with  them  on  his  back.  Rolled  in  them  were  the 
single  dried  salmon,  which  would  form  his  sole  sustenance 
on  the  journey,  and  the  cherished  pound  of  tobacco, for  which 
he  had  been  willing  to  work  so  hard.  In  his  hand  he  bore 
an  old  flintlock  musket,  that  was  the  pride  of  his  heart,  not 
so  much  on  account  of  its  shooting  qualities,  which  were 
very  uncertain,  as  by  reason  of  its  great  length.  It  was  the- 
longest  gun  known  to  the  dwellers  of  the  Tauanah  Valley, 
and  consequently  the  most  valuable,  for  the  Hudson  Bay 
Company's  method  of  selling  such  guns  was  to  exchange 
one  for  as  many  marten,  fox,  or  beaver  skins  as  could  be 
piled  from  stock  to  muzzle  when  it  stood  upright. 

"I  hope  the  wolves  won't  attack  his  camps,"  remarked 
Phil,  as  they  watched  the  louely  figure  pass  out  of  sight  on 
the  back  trail. 

"Him  no  camp,"  declared  Knrilla. 

"  But  he  must.  YVhy,  it's  a  four  days'  journey  to  his 
home." 

"No.  One  day,  one  night.  Him  no  stop.  Wolf  no  catch 
urn.  Yaas." 

And  Kurilla  was  right,  for  the  Indian  would  push  on  over 
mile  after  mile  of  that  frozen  solitude  without  a  pause,  save 
for  an  occasional  bite  from  his  dried  salmon  and  a  handful 
ot'snow  to  wash  it  down,  until  he  reached  his  own  far-nway 
liome. 

CHAPTEK   XX. 

CHITSAH'S  NATURAL  TELEPHONE. 

SEVENTEEN  green  wolf-skins  formed  a  heavy  sledge-load, 
especially  for  the  weakened  dog  teams,  but  fortunately  Ja- 
lap Coombs's  feet  were  again  in  condition  for  walking,  and 
snow  on  the  river  was  not  yet  deep.  So  it  was  determined 
to  carry  them  at  least  for  the  present.  On  the  evening  fol- 
lowing that  of  the  encounter  with  wolves,  Phil,  leaving  the 
work  of  preparing  camp  to  the  others,  unpacked  the  Eskimo 
wolf-traps  of  compressed  whalebone  that  he  had  procured 
at  Makagamoot.  He  had  twenty  of  the  ingenious  little 
contrivances,  and  wrapped  each  one  in  a  strip  of  frozen 
wolf  meat  that  he  had  saved  and  brought  along  for  the 
purpose.  When  all  were  thus  prepared  he  carried  them 
about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  camp,  and  there  dropped 
them  at  short  intervals  in  a  great  circle  about  it.  He  knew 
the  dogs  would  not  stray  that  far,  since  their  experience  of 
the  night  before,  and  so  felt  pretty  certain  that  the  traps 
would  only  find  their  way  to  the  destination  for  which  they 
were  intended. 

The  first  blood-chilling  howl  was  heard  soon  after  dark, 
and  a  few  minutes  later  it  was  apparent  that  wolves  were 
again  gathering  from  all  quarters.  Then  the  anxious  watch- 
ers caught  occasional  glimpses  of  dim-  forms  and  some- 
times of  a  pair  of  gleaming  eyes,  that  invariably  drew  a  shot 
from  Phil's  rifle.  Still,  the  wolves  seemed  to  remember  their 
lesson,  or  else  they  waited  for  the  occupants  of  the  camp  to 
fall  asleep,  for  they  made  no  effort  at  an  attack. 

As  time  passed,  the  wolf  tones  began  to  change,  and  defi- 
ant howliugs  to  give  place  to  yelps  and  yells  of  distress. 
Soon  other  sounds  were  mingled  with  these  —  the  fierce 


482 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


snarlings  of  savage  beasts  fighting  over  tlieir  prey.  Tlie 
traps  were  doing  their  work.  Those  wolves  that  had  eager- 
ly gulped  them  down  were  so  stricken,  with  deadly  pains 
that  they  staggered,  fell,  and  rolled  in  the  snow.  At  the 
first  symptoms  of  distress  others  sprang  upon  them  and  tore 
them  to  pieces,  at  the  same  time  battling  fiercely  over  their 
cannibal  feast.  So  wolf  fed  wolf,  while  the  night  echoed 
with  tlieir  hideous  outcries,  until  finally  the  survivors. 
gorged  with  the  tlesli  of  their  own  kind, slunk  away,  and 
after  some  hours  of  bedlam  quiet  once  more  reigned  in  the 
forest. 

S<>  Phil's  scheme  proved  a  success,  and  for  the  remainder 
of  that  night  he  and  his  companions  slept  in  peace.  At 
daylight  they  visited  the  scenes  of  wolfish  feasting,  and 
found  everywhere  plentiful  evidence  of  what  had  taken 
place;  but  this  time  they  gathered  in  neither  rugs  nor 
robes,  for  only  blood  stains  and  bones  remained. 

For  another  week  did  the  sledge  party  journey  down  the 
several  streams  that,  emptying  one  into  another,  finally 
formed  the  Conebill  River,  or,  as  the  gold-diggers  call  it, 
Forty  Mile  Creek,  because  its  mouth  is  forty  miles  dowu 
the  Yukon  from  the  old  trading-post  of  Fort  Reliance.  As 
the  first  half  of  their  long  journey  drew  toward  a  close  they 
became  anxious  as  to  its  results  and  impatient  for  its  end. 
When  would  they  reach  the  settlement?  and  could  they 
get  there  before  their  rivals  who  had  followed  the  Yukon  ? 
were  the  two  questions  that  they  constantly  asked  of  each 
other,  but  which  none  could  answer. 

Phil  grew  almost  despondent  as  he  reflected  upon  the 
length  of  time  since  they  left  old  Fort  Adams,  and  gave  it 
as  his  opinion  that  the  other  party  must  have  reached 
Forty  Mile  long  since. 

Jalap  Coombs  was  firm  in  his  belief  that  the  other  party 
was  still  far  away,  and  that  his  would  be  the  first  in  ;  for, 
quoth  he:  "Luck  allers  has  been  ou  my  side,  and  I'm  going 
to  believe  it  allers  will  be.  My  old  friend  Kite  Roberson 
useter  say,  speaking  of  luck,  and  he  give  it  as  his  own  ex- 
perience, that  them  as  struck  the  best  kinds  of  luck  was 
them  as  worked  the  hardest  for  it,  and  ef  they  didn't  get  it 
one  way  t  hey  was  sure  to  another.  Likewise  lie  useter  say, 
Kite  did,  consuming  worriments,  that  ef  ye  didn't  pay  no 
attention  to  one  'twould  be  mighty  apt  to  pass  ye  by  ;  but 
ef  ye  encouraged  it  by  so  much  as  a  wink  or  a  nod  ye'd 
have  to  tight  it  to  git  red  of  it.  So,  as  they  hain't  no  wor- 
riuients  hove  iu  sight,  what's  the  use  in  s'arcliiug  for  'em  ?" 

As  for  Knrilla,  whenever  his  opinion  was  asked,  he  always 
grinned, and  returned  the  same  answer: 

"  You  come  pretty  quick,  niebbe.     Yaas." 

So  each  day  of  the  last  three  or  four  brought  its  fresh 
hope  ;  at  each  succeeding  bend  of  the  stream  all  eyes  were 
strained  eagerly  forward  for  a  sight  of  the  expected  cluster 
of  log  huts,  and  each  night  brought  a  disappointment. 

At  length  one  eveuing,  when  Phil,  who  had  pushed  on 
longer  than  usual,  iu  au  effort  to  end  their  suspense,  was 
reluctantly  compelled  by  gathering  darkness  to  go  into 
camp,  Chitsah  suddenly  attracted  attention  to  himself  by 
running  to  a  tree  and  pressing  an  ear  to  the  trunk.  As  the 
others  stared  a  smile  overspread  his  face,  and  he  said  some- 
thing to  his  father,  which  the  latter  instantly  interpreted. 

"  What !"  cried  Phil,  incredulously.  "  He  thinks  ho  hears 
the  sound  of  chopping  f" 

'•  Yaas,"  answered  Kurilla.  "  Axe  chop  um  white  man. 
Plenty.  Yaas." 

"I  too  can  hear  something,"  exclaimed  Serge,  who  had 
imitated  Chitsah's  movements,  "  though  I  wouldn't  swear 
it  was  chopping." 

"Hurrah!  So  can  I!"  shouted  Phil,  after  a  moment  of 
intent  listening  at  another  tree.  "First  time,  though,  I  ever 
knew  that  the  public  telephone  service  was  extended  to 
this  country.  The  sound  I  heard  might  be  a  train  of  cars 
twenty  miles  away  or  a  woodpecker  somewhere  within 
sight.  No  matter.  If  Chitsah  says  it's  chopping,  it  must 
be,  for  he  ought  to  know, seeing  that  he  first  heard  it  with 
the  aid  of  the  tree-telephone.  So  let's  go  for  it.  We  can 
afford  to  travel  au  hour  or  two  in  the  dark  for  the  sake  of 
meeting  the  white  man  who  is  swinging  that  axe." 

"  Of  course  we  can,"  replied  Serge. 

"Ay,ay,sir!"  answered  Jalap  Coombs. 


"  Me  1) be  catch  um.  Yaas,"  added  Knrilla,  sharing  the  gen- 
eral enthusiasm. 

An  hour  later,  as  they  rounded  a  projecting  point, Phil 
uttered  an  exulting  shout.  A  cluster  of  twinkling  lights 
shone  dead  ahead,  and  our  travellers'  goal  was  won. 

"Let's  give  them  a  volley,"  suggested  Serge.  "It's  the 
custom  of  the  country,  you  know." 

So  the  guns  were  taken  from  their  deer-skin  coverings, 
and  at  Phil's  word  of  command  a  roar  from  double-barrel, 
flintlock,  and  Winchester  woke  glad  echoes  from  both  sides 
of  the  broad  valley,  and  from  the  rugged  Yukon  cliffs  be- 
yond. Then  with  cheers  and  frantic  yelpings  of  dogs,  the 
sledge  brigade  dashed  on  toward  the  welcoming  lights. 

"  Hello  the  camp  !"  yelled  Phi],  as  they  approached  the 
dark  cluster  of  cabins. 

"On  deck!"  roared  Jalap  Coombs,  as  though  he  were 
hailing  a  ship  at  sea. 

"  Hello  yourself!"  answered  a  gruff  voice — the  first  hail 
in  their  own  tongue  that  the  boys  had  heard  in  many  a 
week.  "  Who  are  you  *  Where  do  yon  come  from  ?  And 
what's  all  this  racket  about?" 

"White  men,"  replied  Phil,  "with  dog-sledges,  up  from 
Yukon  mouth." 

"  Great  Scott !  You  don't  say  so !  No  wonder  you're 
noisy!  Hi,  boys!  Here's  the,  first  winter  outfit  that  ever 
came  from  Yukon  month  to  Forty  Mile.  What's  the  mat- 
ter witl^giviug  them  a  salute  ?" 

"Nothing  at  all!"  cried  a  score  of  voices,  and  then  volley 
after  volley  rang  forth,  until  it  seemed  as  though  every  man 
there  must  have  carried  a  loaded  gun  and  emptied  it  of  all 
six  shots  in  honor  of  the  occasion. 

Men  came  running  from  all,  directions,  and  before  the 
shooting  ceased  the  entire  population  of  the  camp,  some 
three  hundred  in  number,  were  eagerly  crowding  about  the 
new-comers, plying  them  with  questions,  and  struggling  for 
the  honor  of  shakiug  hands  with  the  first  arrivals  of 
the  year. 

"  Are  we  really  the  first  to  come  up  ?"  asked  Phil. 

"To  be  sure  you  are.  Not  only  that,  but  the  first  ones 
to  reach  the  diggings  from  any  direction  since  navigation 
closed.  But  how  did  you  come  ?  Not  by  the  river,  I  know, 
for  when  I  heard  your  shooting  'twas  away  up  the  creek." 

"We  came  by  the  Tauanah  aud  across  the  Divide,"  an- 
swered Phil.  "There  is  another  party  coming  by  way  of 
the  river,  though." 

••  Hark  to  that,  boys!  One  train  just  arrived  and  another 
coming!  I  tell  you,  old  Forty  Mile  is  right  iu  it.  Daily- 
express  from  all  points;  through  tickets  to  Europe,  Arup, 
amlArrap;  morning  papers  and  opera-houses,  circus  and 
theaytres.  Looks  like  the  boom  had  struck  us  at  last. 
But  say, stranger,  what  is  the  news  from  below  .'" 

"New  steamer  on  her  way  tip  the  river,  with  saw-mill, 
mining  machinery,  and  best  stock  of  goods  ever  seen  iu 
Alaska,"  replied  Phil,  quick  to  seize  the  opportunity,  and 
anxious  to  make  his  business  known  while  he  still  had  the 
field  to  himself.  We  have  come  from  her,  and  are  ou  our 
way  to  Sau  Francisco  to  send  up  a  new  stock  for  next  sea- 
son. So  we  have  only  stopped  to  take  your  orders  and  find 
out  what  will  be  the  most  acceptable." 

"Hurrah!"  yelled  the  crowd,  wild  with  excitement. 
"  Seud  us  a  brass  band,"  shouted  cue.  "In  swaller  tails 
aud  white  kids,"  added  another.  "What's  the  matter 
with  moving  the  Palace  Hotel  up  here  ?"  suggested  a  third. 

"  Come,  fellows,  let  up,"  cried  the  man  who  had  been  the 
first  to  welcome  the  new  arrivals,  aud  whose  name  was 
Riley.  "We  mustn't  keep  these  gentlemen  standing  out 
here  in  the  cold  any  longer.  I  reckou  they're  hungry,  too, 
and  wondering  why  we  don't  invite  'em  to  grub.  So,  men, 
just  come  into  my  shebang  and  make  yourselves  at  home. 
There  isn't  much  to  it,  but  such  as  it  is  it's  yours,  so  long 
as  you'll  honor  yours  truly." 

"No,  come  with  me,"  cried  another  voice.  "I've  got 
beans,  Boston  baked,  fresh  from  the  can."  "  I've  got  mo- 
lasses and  soft-tack,"  and  "I've  just  made  a  dish  of 
scouse,"  "Come  with  us,"  shouted  others. 

"No,  you  don't !"  roared  Mr.  Riley.  "They're  my  meat. 
and  they  are  going  to  buuk  iu  with  me." 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


483 


TYPICAL    AMERICAN    SCHOOLS. 

AN  DOVER. 


BY   WILLIAM   PHILLIPS   GRAVES. 


ABOUT  oue  hundred  and  sixteen  years  ago  a  small 
school  was  started  in  a  carpenter's  shop  on  Andover 
Hill.  This  little  school  of  about  twelve  boys  was  the  origin 
of  the  great  Phillips  Academy,  which  now  numbers  about 
five  hundred.  Its  founder  was  a  certain  Judge  Samm-l 
1'lnllips,  a  prominent  young  lawyer  and  statesman  in  Mas- 
sachusetts during  the  Revolution.  Besides  giving  inm-li 
of  his  own  money  to  the  school,  he  enlisted  the  aid  of  some 
of  his  relatives,  all  of  whom  were  very  rich  for  those  days, 
and  soon  had  them  so  uiucli  interested  in  founding  schools 
that  his  uncle,  John  Phillips,  started  a  similar  one  in  Exe- 
ter.Xew  Hampshire,  and  named  it  Phillips  Exeter  Academy. 

The  little  academy  in  Andover  did  not  long  hold  its  ses- 
sions in  a  carpenter's  shop.  It  was  soon  provided  with  a 
good  building  by  its  wealthy  founder  ;  and,  with  an  ener- 
getic principal  and  a  fine  set  of  boys,  many  of  whom  after- 
wards became  famous  men,  the  school  flourished  at  once, 
and  became  widely  known. 

The  location  of  the  school  has  been  shifted  about  on 
Andover  Hill,  for  its  buildings  were  several  times  burned 
down.  One  of  them,  the  Science  Building,  is  said  to  have 


Bto. 


A    "  FOOTBALL '•    COACH. 


been  set  on  firo  by  a  boy  in  revenge  for  having  been  se- 
verely disciplined.  Tradition  says  that  he  is  still  living.  If 
he  should  risk  coming  to  Andover  now,  and  could  see  the  fine 
new  Science  Building  which  replaces  the  one  he  destroyed, 
I  venture  to  say  that  his  conscience  would  be  immensely 
relieved. 

The  present  Gymnasium  is  the  old  school-house  which 
Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  attended  in  his  boyhood,  and  which 
he  has  immortalized  in  his  poem  read  at  the  centennial 
celebration  in  1878: 

"  The  morning  came.     I  reached  the  classic  hall. 
A  clock  face  eyed  me,  staring  from  the  wall. 
Beneath  its  hands  a  printed  line  I  read — 
'Youth  is  Life's  Seed  Time;'  so  the  clock  face  said. 
Some  took  its  counsel,  as  the  sequel  showed, 
Sowed  their  wild  oats,  and  reaped  as  they  hud  sowed. 
How  all  comes  back — the  upward  slanting  floor. 
The  masters'  thrones  that  flanked  the  master's  door, 
The  long  outstretching  alleys  that  divide 
The  row  of  desks  that  stands  on  either  side, 
The  staring  boys,  a  face  to  every  desk, 
Bright,  dull,  pale,  blooming,  common,  picturesque.1' 

The  life  at  Andover  is  more  like  college  life  than  at  most 
schools.  The  boys  have  their  rooms  in  private  boarding- 
houses,  or  small  dormitories  on  and  near  the  Hill.  Here 
they  do  all  their  studying  during  day  study  hours,  and 
here  they  must  be  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  for  at  a, 
quarter  before  eight  the  academy  bell  begins  to  toll  warn- 
liigly  until  five  minutes  before  the  hour,  when  it  rings 
rapidly.  This  means  that  every  boy  not  within  walking 
distance  of  bis  home  must  run,  and  woe  to  him  who  is  dis- 
covered lingering  on  the  street  after  eight! 

Of  course  many  of  the  teachers  acquire  great  reputations 
as  eagle-eyed  detectives  or  lightning  sprinters,  and  tradi- 
tions are  not  dead  yet  of  the  hot  races  that  have  taken 
place  between  belated  youths  and  some  sprinting  in- 
structor. Sometimes  this  pursuer  is  a  real  teacher,  but  oft- 
en he  is  only  a  boy  theatrically  made  up  to  represent  some 
dignified  teacher,  and  who  is  out  for  a  little  exercise.  I 
can  remember  one  genuine  race,  when  the  culprit  was  dis- 
covered skylarking  around  the  enchanted  grounds  of  the 
"Fein.  Seiu."  His  pursuer,  though  a  heavy  man,  and  with 
the  worst  record  in  the  faculty  as  a  sprinter,  maintained  a 
most  lively  pace,  and  the  race  never  ended  until  our  young 
friend  was  dragged,  panting  and  very  much  scared,  from 
under  his  bed. 

Besides  these  boarding-houses  there  are  the  famous  Eng- 
lish and  Latin  "  Commons."  These  are  ranged  in  rows  at 
each  end  of  the  campus  or  playground.  The  houses,  which 
resemble  factory  cottages,  are  not  beautiful  architecturally  ; 
but  boys  do  not  care  for  that  usually.  These  rooms  are 
very  cheap,  and  are  primarily  meant  for  boys  who  cannot 
afford  the  greater  luxury  of  private  boarding-houses.  Yet 


484 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


they  are  very  comfortable,  and,  from  the 
greater  independence  and  pleasant  dor- 
mitory life,  many  richer  fellows  are 
found  there. 

The  life  in  these  Commons  is  quite 
like  college  life.  In  front  of  each  row- 
is  a  low  fence,  where,  as  at  Yale,  fellows 
gather  of  a  warm  evening  and  sing 
songs  and  have  a  good  sociable  time  gen- 
erally. Each  boy  must  care  for  bis  own 
room;  anil  every  Friday  noon  an  inspec- 
tion of  rooms  is  made  by  the  faculty,  so 
that  beds  are  made  up  and  clothes  put 
away  once  a  week  at  IcaM. 

The    day's    work    at    Phillips  begins 
at    8.10   in    the    morning,    when,    after 
much  tolling  and  rapid  ringing    of  the 
old  bell,  the  whole  five  hundred  boys  as- 
semble for  prayers  in  the  great  Academy 
Hall,  where  hang  the  portraits  of  teach- 
ers and  benefactors    and  founders  of  a 
century    back.      Recitations    are    held 
during    the    day    until    half  past   four, 
when  all  hands  turn  out  for  a  good  time.     Every  tennis- 
court  and  ball-ground  is  immediately  more  than  occupied. 
The  first  teams  begin  to  practise  on  the  campus,  the  athletic 
team  gets  to  work  on  the  track,  ami  bicyclers  start  off  in 


AN    ANDOVEH    ROOM. 

all  directions.  Others  stroll  oft' for  a  walk  to  Indian  Ridge, 
or  tin1  old  railroad,  or  Sunset  Rock,  or  Allen  Hiuton's.  Al- 
len Hinton  is  the  famous  ice-cream  man.  No  one  can  make 
better  ice-cream  than  he.  Besides  his  fame  as  an  ice-cream 
maker,  he  is  the  greatest  fox-hunter  for  miles  around,  and 
his  stories  of  fox-hunting  and  his  experiences  iu  the  war 
are  something  worth  hearing. 

Then  "  Chap's  "  is  a  great  meeting-place  for  those  who 
like  eating  better  than  exercise.  Here  boys  have  drunk 
soda-water  and  eaten  candy  and  griddle-cakes,  and  ruined 
their  digestions  for  years  and  years.  The  benches  and 
stalls  are  so  thickly  inscribed  with  names  that  it  is  difficult 
to  find  room  to  carve  a  new  one. 

Audover  has  always  been  noted  for  its  fine  athletic 
teams.  The  great  rivalry  between  Exeter  and  Andovrr 
has  brought  the  standard  of  athletics  up  very  high,  so  that 
college  Freshman  teams  are  usually  beaten  by  the  Phillips 
boys,  and  even  the  Yale  and  Harvard 'varsity  teams  often 
have  no  easy  task  in  overcoming  them. 

For  many  years  the  great  events  of  the  school  year  have 
been  the  football  and  baseball  games  with  Exeter.  For 
weeks  before  the  game  the  chief  topics  of  conversation  are 
the  chances  of  victory  and  the  prospects  of  this  and  that 
man  for  the  team.  As  the  day  for  the  game  draws  near, 
the  excitement  increases.  Crowds  watch  the  daily  prac- 
tice, and  under  appointed  leaders  work  up  new  cheers  or 
practise  on  the  old  ones,  so  that  those  who  do  not  belong  to 
the  teams  have  at  least  a  chance  to  beat  Exeter  at  yelling. 

Finally  the  great  day  arrives.  Every  man  in  school  who 
owns  or  can  borrow  a  connle  of  dollars  has  his  excursion 


THE    ADMINISTRATION    BUILDING    AND    ACADEMY   HALL. 


ticket,  and  eight  or  ten  yards  of  blue  and  white  ribbon  with 
which  to  decorate  his  cane,  hat,  and  button-bole.  After  the 
morning  recitation  the  whole  school,  supported  by  half  the 
town  of  Andover  and  certain  extraordinary  mascots,  board 
the  special  train  for  Exeter,  gay  with  flags  and  ribbons, 
and  noisy  with  tin  horns.  Even  the  cars  and  engine  are 
draped  with  blue. 

After  reaching  Exeter  a  rush  is  made  for  the  campus,  and 
a  mad  scramble  for  scats  ensues.  Those  who  are  fortunate 
enough  to  belong  to  the  secret  societies  have  positions  on 
ga\  ly  decked  coaches.  With  Audover  men  massed  on  one 
side  of  the  field  and  Exeter  men  on  the  other,  an  alternate 
contest  of  cheering  at  once  takes  place,  like  the  (ireck 
choruses  of  old.  While  waiting  for  the  athletes  to  appear, 
tin-  excitement  is  intense.  For  real  genuine  excitement  a 
Harvard-Yale  contest  is  a  dull  affair  compared  with  an  An- 
dover-Exeter  game. 

When  yon  are  sixteen  years  old  or  less,  and  at  Phillips, 
yon  don't  care  for  close  games.  Y'ou  want  to  see  your  own 
side  make  all  the  runs  or  touch-downs  possible,  and  al- 
though cheering  of  opponents'  errors  is  strictly  against 
school  courtesy,  yet  the  more  points  your  own  team  makes. 
and  the  poorer  the  other  plays,  the  more  you  feel  like  yell- 
ing and  waving  your  cane  and  slapping  your  friend  on  tin- 
back  and  congratulating  yourself  that  you  went  to  An- 
dover instead  of  Exeter. 

Such  a  contest  as  this  was  the  baseball  game  of'-?. 
About  the  seventh  inning  a  mysterious-looking  wagon  con- 
taining something  covered  with  a  canvas  drove  rapidly 
across  the  field  and  disappeared  in  the  woods  behind.  This 


THE    PRESENT   GYMNASIUM. 
Where  Oliver  Wendell  Uohnes  went  to  school. 


485 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


strauge  appearance  was  soon  forgotten  in  the  interest  of 
the  game;  but  the  wagon  liore  the  instruments  of  the  Au- 
dover  Brass  Band,  who  were  concealed  in  the  woods,  and 
whom  a  loyal  citizen  had  hired  in  case  of  victory.  At  the 
end  of  tlie  game,  when  all  Andover  was  tearing  madly  on 
the  field  and  hearing  oft'  the  victors  on  their  shoulders,  the 
band  appeared  on  the  scene  in  full  blare.  Every  one  fell 
in  behind  them,  helping  them  out  with  tin  horns  and  cries 
of  "Left,  left,  left,  the  Exeter  men  got  left !"  And  each 
year  some  new  feature  like  this  is  introduced. 

Then  ensues  the  usual  seehe  after  a  victory.  The  en- 
tire wild  procession  moves  to  the  depot,  followed  by  the 
chagrined  and  more  or  less  angry  Exeter  men.  At  the 
depot,  after  some  friendly  scuffling  and  snatching  of  canes 
and  colors  for  souvenirs,  and  deafening  cheering  on  the 
part  of  everybody,  the  special  train  moves  away  for  An- 
dover, long  before  stripped  of  its  blue  colors,  to  supply 
those  who  have  failed  to  bring  a  ribbon  for  themselves. 

On  the  train  the  expressions  of  joy  do  not  cease.  Every 
brakeman  or  conductor  who  ventures  inside  a  car  is  im- 
mediately put  up  for  a  speech.  The  brakemeu  often  ob- 
ject, and  smash  their  red  lanterns  about  on  the  heads  of 
small  boys,  who  do  not  mind  it  in  the  least.  When  An- 
dover is  reached,  all,  tired  and  hoarse,  but  happy,  make  for 
their  boarding:honses  fora  rousing  supper  and  a  little  rest 
before  the  time-honored  celebration  in  the  evening.  At 
half  past  eight  this  celebration  takes  place,  and  all  sally 
forth,  armed  with  tin  horns  of  huge  proportions.  Study 
hours  never  count  on  celebration  nights. 

According  to  tradition,  the  members  of  the  victorious 
team  are  drawn  about  in  a  barge  by  a  rope  long  enough 
for  the  whole  school.  They  are  hauled  about  to  the  houses 
of  the  faculty.  Each  teaehcr  ist  lustily  cheered  by  his 
popular  nickname,  and  then  called  forth  to  make  a  speech. 
After  the  round  of  the  faculty  houses,  the  whole  mob,  not 
a  whit  less  noisy  for  all  its  exertions,  retire  to  the  campus. 
In  less  than  twenty  minutes  a  mass  of  oil-barrels  and  fence 
rails  miraculously  appears,  and  is  heaped  to  the  size  of  an 
ordinary  barn.  After  a  bath  of  kerosene  oil  a  famous  fire 
is  set  going.  All  join  hands  around  the  fire.  The  captain 
of  the  team  is  mounted  on  the  shoulders  of  two  sturdy 
friends.  Every  one  gathers  himself  together  for  one  last 
shout,  and  around  they  whirl  in  a  wild  weird  dance.  Then 
the  tire  begins  to  die  down  ;  it  is  getting  toward  midnight ; 
the  faculty  begin  to  flit  warningly  about;  all,  tired  and 
scarcely  able  to  talU,  go  quietly  home,  and  the  great  cel- 
ebration is  over. 

This  is  a  sample  of  what  takes  place  after  a  victory. 
After  defeat  the  town  in  the  evening  is  silent  as  the  grave, 
and  the  depression  for  several  days  is  quite  appalling.  In 
these  games  feeling  often  runs  high,  but  such  things  as 
tights  are  very  rare.  At  such  times  Andover  and  Exeter 
men  speak  disrespectfully  of  each  other,  but  the  chances 
are  that  one's  best  friends  at  college  may  be  these  very  op- 
ponents, and  perhaps  one  likes  them  all  the  better  for  hav- 
ing once  done  them  an  injustice. 

But  Andover  does  not  go  in  for  athletics  alone.  In  their 
studies  the  boys  are  so  well  trained  that  at  college  they 
usually  take  high  position  in  their  classes  without  any  dif- 
ficulty whatever.  For  those  who  are  inclined  to  literary 
pursuits  there  is  the  Pfiillipinn  to  try  for.  It  is  issued 
twice  a  week,  and  it  is  considered  a  great  honor  to  become 
a  member  of  the  editing  board.  Then  there  is  the  J/ic/vu* 
every  month,  which  contains  literature  of  a  more  solid  char- 
acter. Besides  these  then'  are  yearly  publications  which 
offerprizes  for  drawings.  The  Philomathean  Society,  which 
has  held  meetings  for  seventy  years,  is  the  debating  society. 
Those  who  are  sensible  enough  to  join  this,  and  practise 
speaking  before  a  crowd,  receive  a  training  that  helps  them 
wonderfully  all  their  lives.  This  society  and  a  flourishing 
branch  of  the  Y.M.C.A.  are  powerful  influences  in  the 
school.  What  with  the  different  prize  speakings,  the  glee 
and  banjo  clubs,  the  track-athletic  and  tennis  teams,  and 
numberless  other  organizations,  every  boy  has  a  chance  to 
distinguish  himself. 

Sunday  is  a  delightful  day  at  Andover.  The  afternoon 
stroll  with  one's  best  friend  in  the  beautiful  country  around 
is  perhaps  the  pleasantest  experience  in  the  week.  Boys 


are  obliged  to  attend  church  twice  on  Sunday,  but  few 
of  them  object  to  this  compulsory  attendance,  for  the  ser- 
vices are  conducted  in  turn  by  the  professors  of  the  Theo- 
logical Seminary,  all  of  whom  arc  very  distinguished  and 
interesting  men,  who  never  fail  to  interest  their  hearers. 

The  Theological  Seminary  is  situated  near  the  school, 
and  as  is  always  the  case,  the  men  are  closer  students  and 
more  devoted  to  their  work  than  are  the  members  of  the 
Academy  proper.  That  does  not  mean,  however,  that 
they  do  not  join  the  latter  in  their  social  and  athletic  life. 
Once  they  had  a  baseball  team  that  could  completely  de- 
molish the  Phillips  nine.  Their  pitcher,  a  famous  Yale 
player,  was  said  to  be  the  only  man  in  the  country  who 
could  deliver  a  "snake"  curve. 

Near  Phillips  Academy  also  is  situated  the  Abbot  Female 
Academy.  This  is  a  large  girls'  school.  No  uninvited  boy 
is  allowed  on  these  sacred  premises,  and  all  intercourse  be- 
tween the  two  schools  is  forbidden.  Nevertheless,  the 
stories  of  midnight  serenaders  and  of  encounters  with  Pat, 
the  Fern.  Sem.  policeman,  would  till  a  volume. 

Every  Andover  man  loves  his  school,  not  only  for  the 
fun  and  scrapes  that  he  had  there,  but  for  the  good  that  he 
has  received  from  it.  Many  of  his  strongest  friendships 
were  formed  there,  and  much  of  his  success  at  college  and 
in  after-life  has  depended  on  the  associations  made  at 
school,  while  those  who  have  not  gone  to  college  feel  that 
they  gained  at  Andover  an  education  by  no  means  scanty. 


A   EEVENGEFUL   WHALE. 

BY  W.  J.  HENDERSON. 

rriHE  ship  was  under  a  cloud  of  canvas.  Old  H;\nd- 
-L  some  lay  on  his  side  away  forward  near  the  knight- 
hrails,  where  the  rhythmic  rise  and  fall  of  the  bows  lulled 
him  like  the  rocking  of  a  cradle. 

"Say,"  he  drawled,  in  a  lazy  voice,  "  the  old  ship  looks 
very  gay  in  the  sunset,  doesn't  she?" 

"Waal,"  said  Farmer  Joe,  "she  dew  look  right  peert. 
But  all  the  same  I  don't  see  no  use  o'  \vastiu'  a  whole  dog- 
watch a-lookiu'  at  her." 

"Who  arst  yer  to?"  said  another  sailor. 

"  Waal,"  continued  Farmer  Joe,  "  what  I'm  a-thinkin'  of 
is  that  Handsome  ort  to  tell  us  some  more  o'  his  whalin' 
exper'ences." 

Handsome  uttered  a  feeble  moan  of  protest.  But  the 
seamen  gathered  around  him  and  persisted. 

"Well,  well,"  he  said  at  length,  "hold  on  a  minute  till  I 
overhaul  my  recollection-lockers.  Let's  see;  where  was  I? 
Oh  yes;  I'd  got  to  where  I  was  lost  from  the  Ellen  HIII-I/IT, 
and  was  picked  up  by  the  whaler  Two  <'»««;,(*.  Well,  that 
was  a  rum  sort  of  a  go.  Yon  see  the  Captain  of  the  Tico 
Cousins  was  very  glad  to  get  us,  because  he  was  short- 
handed,  some  of  his  men  having  deserted  at  the  last  port. 
So  we  agreed  to  work  in  with  his  crew  until  our  own  ship 
was  sighted,  when  he  was  to  put  us  aboard  of  her.  Of 
course  we  never  had  any  sort  of  a  notion  that  it  was  going 
to  be  six  months  before  we  got  back  to  the  I'.llvii  liiirijir. 
Say,  of  all  the  wearing,  tearing  things  that  can  come  to  a 
man  in  this  world  there's  nothing  more  exasperating  than 
uaitiug  for  whales.  We  pretty  nearly  went  crazy  aboard 
the  Two  Cousins,  for  it  was  two  weeks  before  the  masthead 
let  go  the  mighty  welcome  yell, 

"  '  There  she  breaches !' 

"The  skipper  he  jumped  iijto  the  rigging  and  took  a 
squint,  and  the  next  minute  he  shouted: 

"'There  she  blows  —  one  —  two  —  three!  Three  good 
whales.  Lower  away  lively,  you  shipkeepers." 

"Our  crew  had  hern  put  in  one  boat,  because  the  Captain 
agreed  that  we'd  do  better  working  together,  and  of  course 
he  knew  we  wouldn't  run  away,  because  there  wasn't  any 
place  to  run  to.  Well,  we  lowered  away  and  off  we  went 
under  oars,  because  the  whales  were  dead  to  windward,  and 
not  so  very  far  away  either.  We  had  gone  about  half  the 
distance,  when  the  boat-steerer  said, 

"  '  There  goes  flukes.' 

"  Which  meant,  of  course,  that  the  whales  had  sounded. 


486 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


There  was  nothing  to  do  except  to  wait  for  them  to  coine 
np  again.  They  staid  down  a  pretty  long  time,  which 
proved  that  they  were  big  ones,  and  then  they  came  np 
half  a  mile  dead  to  leeward  of  us.  We  set  our  little  boat 
sail,  there  was  a  fairly  good  breeze,  and  we  went  dancing 
over  the  waves  toward  the  whales  at  a  good  pace.  The 
first  mate  of  the  Tim  r«».vi»x  had  the  weather-gage  of  us, 
and  he  had  the  smallest  whale.  The  one  we  were  heading 
for  was  a  regular  old  leviathan. 

"  '  Get  in  your  sail,'  whispered  the  boat-steerer. 

"It  was  done  with  great  caution. 

"'Now  a  good  stroke,  starboard,  to  pull  her  round. ' 

"We  were  now  in  a  position  to  go  np  to  his  whalesliip 
without  being  seen  ;  so  the  boat-steerer  sa\  *  : 

" 'Now,  lads,  give  way  with  a  will.  Jump  her;  jump 
her!' 

"  We  dashed  our  oars,  and  the  boat  sprang  forward. 

"  '  Now !' 

"The  iron  was  thrown  with  a  whiz,  and  as  quick  as  a 
flash — yes,  as  quick  as  a  mouse  could  dart  into  his  hole — 
the  whale  went  down  into  the  sea.  The  line  ran  out  of 
the  tub  fast  enough  to  make  you  dizzy.  AH  of  if  sudden 
— how,  I  never  could  tell — there  was  a  kink  in  the  line,  and 
it  fouled  for  a  second  in  the  bow  chock.  Such  a  thing  meant 
destruction  to  the  boat,  and  as  quick  as  thought  J,  being 
bowman,  grabbed  the  axe  and  cut  the  line. 

"  '  Blast  you  !'  yelled  the  boat-steerer ;  '  what  did  you  do 
that  for?' 

"'Do  you  want  to  be  towed  under?' I  said.  'I  should 
think  we'd  had  enough  towing.' 

"  '  Well,'  says  he,  cooling  down  a  bit, '  there's  a  fine  whale 
gone  oft" .with  a  good  iron  in  him.' 

"The  other  boats  did  not  have  much  better  luck  than 
we  did,  seeing  that  their  whales  got  frightened  and  began 
to  run.  They  chased  the  brutes  for  two  hours,  and  couldn't 
get  anywhere  near  them.  Then  it  commenced  to  get  late, 
and  the  ship  hoisted  the  waif — 

"  What's  that  ?"  asked  Farmer  Joe. 

"That's  the  boat  recall  in  a  whaler,"  answered  Hand- 
sinne:  "and  when  it  went  up  we  had  to  go  back  to  the 
ship,  where  we  were  jawed  by  the  Captain,  and  made  fun 
of  by  the  rest  of  the  crew.  Still,  we  didn't  mind  that  so 
very  much,  because,  you  know,  it's  pretty  likely  to  be  turn 
about  in  a  whaler,  and  you  can't  ever  tell  when  an  accident 
is  going  to  happen  to  the  oldest  hand.  It  was  three  days 
before  we  saw  a  whale  again.  I  was  on  lookout,  and  I 
caught  sight  of  a  spurt  of  spray  away  down  to  leeward.  I 
was  hardly  sure  of  it  at  tirst.  but  the  next  second  the  whale 
rose  on  a  sea.  and  I  caught  the  flash  of  the  sun  on  his  shiny 
wet  back.  So  I  bawled  away  as  usual, 

"  '  There  blows !' 

"  'Only  one  ?'  yelled  the,  C'aptai'n. 

"  'That's  all, sir,'  says  I. 

"  '  Well,'  says  he, '  we'll  make  sure  of  him,  anyhow.' 

"  So  he  gives  orders  to  lower  away  three  boats.  These 
boats  were  to  spread  out  in  running  down  on  the  whale,  so 
that  if  he  sounded  he  might  come  up  so  near  one  of  the 
outside  ones  as  to  give  it  a  chance  to  go  on  before  he  could 
recover  from  his  surprise.  Well,  we  had  the  outside  berth 
on  the  port  side,  and  the  mate  of  the  Tiro  Cousins  he  had 
the  middle.  The  orders  were  to  keep  abreast  in  sailing 
down,  and  by  easing  and  trimming  sheets,  according  as  we 
went  ahead  or  not,  we  managed  to  do  it  pretty  neatly.  We 
had  got  down  within  two  hundred  and  fifty  yards  of  the 
whale,  when  he  began  to  swim  ahead.  He  didn't  seem  to 
go  very  fast,  but  he  managed  to  keep  us  all  about  the  same 
distance  astern  of  him.  All  of  a  sudden  our  boat-steerer 
says, 

"  'I  know  him  !' 

"  '  (!et  out !'  says  I ;  '  how  can  you  know  a  whale  ?' 

'• '  But  I  tell  you  I  do,'  says  he, '  and  if  you  had  any  sense 
you'd  know  him  too.' 

"  '  How  would  I  ?'  asks  I. 

"  'Don't  you  see  the  harpoon  sticking  out  of  him  ?' 

"  I  looked  pretty  hard,  and,  sure  enough,  there  was  a  har- 
poon, with  a  line  drifting  from  it. 

"  'That's  my  iron  !'  says  the  boat-steerer. 

"'Get  out!' says  I. 


"  '  I  won't,'  says  he. 

"  '  How  do  you  know  it's  yours?'  says  I. 

"  'Because  I  made  it  myself,  and  1  know  my  own  work 
even  when  I  see  it  afloat  on  a,  whale's  back  away  oft'  in 
longitude  and  latitude  something  or  other.' 

"  •  Then  it's  the  same  whale  !'  says  I. 

" 'Wight!'  says  he.  'It's  the  whale  I  struck  the  other 
day.  ami  which  got  away  because  you  went  out  and  cut 
the  line.' 

"  '  It  would  be  a  pretty  good  joke  on  the  whale,'  says  I, 
'if  we  could  get  close  enough  to  him  to  catch  hold  of  the 
end  of  the  line.' 

"  '  It  would,'  says  he, '  and  we  could  begin  again  where  we 
left  oft' yesterday.' 

•'  •  Shall  we  try  it  ?'  I  asks. 

"  '  Of  course,'  says  he. 

"  'He's  stopped  swimming  ahead, 'says  I. 

"  '  Then  we'll  soon  be  close  to  him,'  says  he. 

"'But  if  he  don't  swim  ahead  the  end  of  the  line '11  sink,' 
says  I. 

••  •  And  we'll  go  on  and  heave  a  new  iron  into  him,' says 
he,  •  and  so  we'll  get  him  anyway.' 

"Well,  we  sailed  on,  and  occasionally  the  whale  would 
swim  ahead  a  little,  and  then  again  he'd  stop,  and  we'd  gain 
on  him.  By-aud-by  we  got  pretty  close,  and  the  boat-steerer 
says : 

"  4  Let's  make  a  dash  now  and  make  fast  to  him  with  the 
new  iron.' 

•'  With  that  we  got  the  oars  out,  and  with  a  jump  and  a 
snort  we  sent  the  light  boat  boiling  ahead.  Now  in  all  my 
life  I  never  saw  anything  quite  as  smart  as  that  particular 
whale.  The  minute  we  began  to  go  ahead,  so  did  he.  But 
we  were  so  close  that  old  Bacon,  the  boat-steerer,  made  up 
his  mind  that  we  could  catch  him. 

'"Pull  hard,  lads!' he  says;  'pull  hard!  We're  gaining 
on  him  at  every  stroke.' 

"And  now  it  caine  to  be  a  regular  race  between  us  and 
the  whale,  which  was  altogether  out  of  the  nature  of 
things.  The  whale,  if  he'd  been  scared,  ought  to  have 
sounded.  We  thought  of  that  afterward,  but  we  didn't 
think  of  it  then.  The  other  boats' crews  didn't  think  of  it 
either,  for  they  were  pulling  hard  too.  But  owing  to  the 
\\  bale's  starboarding  his  helm  a  little  we  were  much  the 
nearest  to  him.  All  of  a  sudden  I  happened  to  look  over 
the  side  of  the  boat,  and  blow  me  if  I  didn't  see  the  end  of 
the  harpoon-line  dragging  along  in  the  water  !  Quick  as  a 
wink  I  let  go  of  my  oar  and  grabbed  that  line.  The  next 
second  I  had  it  in  the  boat,  and  had  a  turn  around  the 
loggerhead. 

" '  We're  fast !'  says  I. 

"  '  Bully  for  you  !'  says  Bacon. 

"  '  Hurrah  !'  says  the  rest  of  the  crew. 

"Then  Bacon  he  sort  of  half  stood  np  and  waved  his  cap 
to  the  other  boats,  and  pointed  to  the  harpoon  and  line. 
They  waved  back  at  us  and  laughed.  Then  Bacon  says, 

"  '  Now  I'm  fast  I  don't  hardly  know  what  to  do,  because 
the  whale  is  just  as  cool  as  though  he'd  never  been  struck.' 

"  At  that  minute,  as  luck  would  have  it,  the  whale  seemed 
to  find  out  what  had  happened,  and  he  ups  flukes  and 
sounds.  He  didn't  stay  down  very  long,  and  when  he  came 
np  Bacon  says, 

" '  Now's  our  time.  We'll  go  right  in  and  give  him  the 
lance.' 

"We  bent  our  backs  to  it  and  dashed  the  boat  ahead; 
but  it  was  not  to  be  our  luck  to  kill  just  then,  for  just  as 
Bacon  stood  up  with  the  lance  the  whale  hove  his  tail  into 
the  air  and  brought  it  down  on  the  water  with  a  report 
like  a»caunon.  At  the  same  instant  he  sounded  again. 

'"He's  a  regular  demon!'  says  Bacon;  'but  we'll  get 
him  yet.' 

"  In  a  few  minutes  he  came  np  again  and  lay  perfectly 
still.  Once  more  we  pulled  upon  him,  and  Bacon  got  read\ 
to  throw  the  lance.  Again,  the  whale  sounded.  Down, 
down  he  went  till  the  line  was  all  out.  And  then  he  didn't 
stop. 

'"Great  Scott!'  yells  Bacon, 'he's  trying  to  tow  us 
under!' 

"Without  a  second's  hesitation  he  grabbed  the  axe  and 


487 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


SUDDENLY    TWO    GREAT    WALLS    SEEMED    TO    SHOOT    UP   OUT   OF   THE    OCEAN. 


cut  the  line.  It  was  lucky  he  was  so  quick,  for  the  bow  of 
the  boat  hail  been  pulled  down  till  the  water  was  flowing 
ov&r  the  gunwales.  Another  second  and  we'd  all  have  been 
in  the  water.  Again  the  whale  came  up  and  lay  perfectly 
still,  with  the  tantalizing  harpoon  fast  in  his  back. 

"'Now  we'll  not  fool  with  that  any  more,' said  Bacon, 
the  boat-steerer,  '  but  we'll  go  on  and  put  in  a  new  iron.' 

"We  made  a  good  approach,  and  got  up  within  heaving 
distance.  liacon  stood  up,  and  was  just  going  to  let  fly, 
•when  Mr.  Whale  went  down  again. 

•••Well,  that's  the  most  exasperating  brute  I  ever  met,' 
says  Bacon, '  and  I'll  never  leave  him  till  I  see  him  dead.' 

"I  don't,  suppose  a  whale  down  under  the  sea  can  hrar 
•what  a  man  in  a  boat  says,  and  I  guess  he  wouldn't  under- 
stand it  if  he  did;  but  that  whale  acted  as  if  he  knew  a 
heap.  The  first  thing  we  knew,  the  stroke-oar,  who  was 
leaning  over  the  side  of  the  boat,  let  out  a  yell  and  dashed 
his  oar  into  the  water. 

"  'Pull  for  your  lives!'  says  he. 

"We  didn't  need  any  second  invitation  of  that  kind. 
We  all  dipped  our  oars,  but  it  was  too  late.  Suddenly  two 
great  dark  walls  seemed  to  shoot  up  out  of  the  ocean,  one 
on  each  side  of  the  boat.  The  boat  itself  was  lifted  bodily 
out  of  the  water,  bending  and  straining  as  if  it  was  made 
of  straw.  Looking  over  the  sides, our  blood  just  stood  still 
at  the  sight.  The  whale  had  come  up  under  us  straight 
up  and  down,  as  if  he  was  a-standing  on  his  tail.  He  had 
opened  his  terrible  cave  of  a  mouth,  and  had  snatched  the 
boat  in  it,  and  now  he  was  holding  the  little  vessel  and  us 
in  it  a  good  fifteen  feet  above  the  water,  while  he  sort  of 
rocked  back  and  forward  like  a  child  playing  with  a  doll. 

'"Give  him  an  iron  in  his  beastly  snout!'  yelled  one  of 
the  men. 


"  Too  late  ;  and  it 
wouldn't  have  done 
any  good  anyhow. 
He  moved  his  jaw  a 
little,  and  the  sides 
of  the  boat  bent  in 
and  creaked  like  pa- 
per. With  wild  yells 
we  all  threw  our- 
selves out  of  the 
boat,  for  in  another 
minute  some  of  ns 
would  have  been 
in  his  throat.  He 
snapped  his  jaws 
together,  crunching 
the  boat  into  kind- 
ling-wood. Then 
he  threw  himself 
end  over  end,  going 
down  head  first, 
and  lashing  out 
with  his  great 
flukes.  Poor  Bill 
Johnson  got  a  crack 
that  broke  one  of 
his  legs,  and  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  Ba- 
con, he'd  have 
drowned.  The  oth- 
er boats  came  dash- 
ing down  to  our  res- 
cue, the  boat  of  the 
first  mate  of  the 
Tiro  Cousin*  leading 
the  way.  She  was 
nearest  to  us,, and 
the  mate  was  shout- 
ing words  of  en- 
couragement, when 
all  of  a  sudden  his 
cries  changed  to 
shouts  of  fear.  The 
next  instant  we  saw 
the  waters  split 

wide  open,  and  the  whale  came  up,  back  first,  with  a 
crash  right  under  the  boat.  Boys,  I  hope,  I  may  never 
see  South  Street  again  if  he  didn't  drive  the  harpoon 
that  was  still  sticking  in  his  back  right  through  the  bot- 
tom of  her.  There  she  was  pinned  fast  to  his  back. 

"'Give  him  your  lance'!'  yells  Bacon,  who  was  swimming 
and  holding  up  Bill  Johnson. 

"  '  What !  And  be  killed  in  his  flurry  ?'  shouted  the  mate. 
'Not  much  !' 

"With  that  he  grabs  the  spars  of  his  boat,  throws  them 
overboard,  and  jumps  after  them,  followed  by  all  his  crew. 
At  the  same  instant  the  whale  lashed  out  with  his  flukes 
again  .and  went  down,  taking  the  boat  on  his  back.  This 
time,  as  good  luck  would  have  it,  he  didn't  hit  any  one. 
But  we  were  all  thoroughly  terrified,  for  we  knew  now  that 
the  brute  was  in  a  temper,  and  that  he  knew  what  he  was 
doing.  Meanwhile  the  ship  was  bearing  down  on  us,  and 
we  bad  hopes  of  being  saved.  The  third  boat,  too.  was 
pulling  up,  but  we  had  not  much  hopes  of  her,  for  we  ex- 
pected to  see  the  whale  attack  her.  And,  sure  enough,  he 
came  up  a  few  yards  away,  without  the  mate's  boat  on  his 
back,  and  waited  for  her.  When  she  was  close  to  us  he 
seemed  to  utter  a  snort  as  he  plunged  down  and  made  for 
her.  The  steerer  of  the  boat  was  a  cool  hand,  and  he  swung 
the  boat  off  with  a  powerful  stroke  just  as  the  whale  came 
up  and  tried  to  smash  her  with  his  flukes.  Curiously  enough, 
the  brute  seemed  to  think  he'd  done  for  her,  for  instead  of 
coining  back  to  take  another  shot,  he  sounded,  and  we  never 
saw  anything  more  of  him.  Five  minutes  later  we  were  all 
safe  in  the  third  boat,  and  soon  afterward  we  were  aboard 
the  ship.  But,  I  tell  yon,  I  don't  care  to  have  any  more 
dealings  with  a  whale  that's  bent  on  revenge  and  seems  to 
know  just  who  it  was  that  hit  him." 


488 


INTERSCHOKASTIC& 


IF  THE  WEATHER  is  FAIR  next  Saturday  there  ought  to 
be  some  records  broken  in  tbe  Interscholastic  games, 
both  at  tbe  Berkeley  Oval  and  at  Eastern  Park.  Tbe 
Oval's  straightaway  track  is  one  of  tbe  fastest  in  the  coun- 
try, and  with  tbe  conditions  in  his  favor  Washbnru  should 
win  the  100  iu  lOf.  Hall  could  take  tbe  event  if  be  \vould 
train,  but  he  seems  disinclined  to  put  forth  bis  greatest 
exertions,  and  so  will  probably  dispute  second  place 
with  Moore.  In  the  Juniors  for  the  same  distance 
Wilson  will  pretty  surely  score  five  points  for  Barnard. 
Syine's  injury  to  his  foot  may  prevent  him  from  com- 
peting in  any  of  tbe  many  events  for  which  he  is  en- 
tered, but  if  be  recovers  and  gets  into  condition  again 
before  Saturday  be  will  doubtless  be  heard  fVoui  in  the  520 
and  the  low  hurdles.  He  ought  certainly  to  win  the  lat- 
ter, with  Harris  behind  him.  In  the  220  Vom  Baur  will 
push  his  schoolmate,  if  be  runs;  but  I  should  not  be  sur- 
prised if  Vom  Baur  staid  out  and  reserved  bis  strength  for 
other  work.  Wilson  ought  to  win  the  Junior  220,  if  his 
first  heat  and  the  two  100  heats  don't  tire  him.  Strattou 
will  have  a  place.  Tbe  quarter-mile  seems  to  be  an  easier 
riddle  than  most  of  tbe  other  events  on  the  card.  Irwin- 
Martin  will  undoubtedly  take  first  place,  Syuie  second  (if 
be  has  recovered  from  the  effects  of  his  spiking),  and  Mee- 
hau  third.  Another  reasonable  certainty  is  the  high  jump. 
Baltazzi  is  sure  to  take  the  event  for  Harvard  School,  while 
Pell  and  Weuman  will  struggle  for  second  place,  both  be- 
ing of  about  equal  skill,  with  possibly  a  slight  advantage 
in  favor  of  Pell.  Irwin-Martin  could  win  the  half-mile  if 
be  ran,  but  I  do  not  think  be  will  answer  tbe  call  in  this 
event.  I  understand  he  will  only  enter  the  440  and  the 
hammer,  and  consequently  Pier  may  pretty  safely  be  count- 
ed on  to  win,  with  Iiimau  and  Vom  Baur  iu  the  places. 

TAPPEN  AND  BLAIR  WILL  HAVE  A  CHANCE  to  decide, 
in  the  presence  of  competent  judges,  which  one  of  them 
can  run  the  fastest  mile ;  and  although  Blair  deserved  the 
prize  at  the  Sachs  games,  I  think  Tappen  will  lead  in 
tbe  iuterscbolastics.  Tbe  mile  walk,  in  all  probabili- 
ty, will  rest  between  Ware  and  Hackett ;  and  if  Powell 
can  keep  his  seat  iu  the  bicycle-race,  the  order  in  that 
event  should  be  Powell,  Ehrich,  Mortimer.  But  Powell 
may  reasonably  be  counted  on  to  slip  or  trip  or  break 
something,  and  so  Harvard  School  stauds  a  chance  of  get- 
ting five  points  there  instead  of  three.  Cowperthwait  did 
20  feet  4  iu  tbe  broad  jump  at  the  Trinity  games,  and 
ought  to  win  the  event  Saturday  ;  but  Beers  will  doubtless 
cover  20  feet ;  and  I  expect  to  see  Battermau  do  better 
than  19,  with  Pier  close  behind  him.  Between  Batterman 
and  Irwiu-Martin  for  the  hammer  it  is  hard  to  decide,  but 
I  am  inclined  to  give  the  preference  to  the  former.  He 
will  have  to  do  better  than  106  feet  to  win,  but  I  doubt  if 
Irwiu-Martiu  can  throw  105.  Ayers  should  take  third 
place,  and  he  will  doubtless  get  second,  ill  the  shot,  with 
Bigelow  ahead  of  him,  and  Batterman  behind.  The  re- 
maining events  on  the  programme  are  tbe  pole-vault, 
which  lies  between  Hurlbert  and  Simpson,  and  throwing 
tbe  baseball,  which  will  be  taken  by  Ayers.  He  will  have 
to  better  bis  last  year's  record  of  325  feet,  however,  for 
Zizinia  threw  330  feet  in  practice  last  -week,  and  Elmer's 
arm  is  in  good  condition.  It  looks  now  as  if  four  schools 
were  certain  of  scoring  twenty  points  or  more  each.  These 
are  Barnard,  Berkeley,  Harvard,  and  Cutler.  Barnard's 
chances  of  success  will  greatly  depend  on  Syme's  condi- 
tion, for  be  is  their  chief  poiut-wiuuer  ;  and  it'  he  fails,  then 
Berkeley  will  make  a  strong  bid  for  the  championship. 

AT  EASTERN  PARK  tbe  performances  will  not  be  so  good 
as  at  Berkeley  Oval,  but  several  of  the  Long  Island  rec- 
ords will  no  doubt  be  considerably  bettered.  Tbe  most 


promising  candidates  for  the  100  are  Underbill  and  Steven- 
son, titchtield  is  good  at  that  distance1,  but  he  will  doubt- 
less be  reserved  for  the  hurdles  and  the  broad  jump.  In 
that  case  Stevenson  may  be  counted  on  to  win.  Stevenson 
will  contest  the  220  with  Underbill  and  Jewell,  and  will 
probably  take  tbe  440.  It  will  be  a  hot  struggle  for  the 
places  among  Goetting,  Jewell,  Foster,  and  Grace.  As  tbe 
new  rule  shuts  Bacchus  out  of  the  half-mile,  Campbell,  Bow- 
den,  and  Goldsborotigb  will  make  a  close  race.  If  Bedford 
does  not  save  himself  for  tbe  mile,  he  ought  to  be  heard 
from  ;  and  he  will  undoubtedly  take  tbe  long-distance  event, 
Romer  and  Beasly  in  tbe  places.  If  Berger,  who  won  last 
year,  is  allowed  to  compete,  he  is  a  pretty  snre  winner  for 
the  bicycle,  and  be  will  be  followed  closely  by  Roebr.  Fo- 
rney ought  to  be  prominent  in  tbe  pole  vault,  and  if  in  con- 
ditiou,  should  win.  Jewell  aud  Streeter  will  push  him. 
Barker  aud  Gunnison  have  been  doing  good  work  in  the 
high  jump,  but  the  event  will  probably  go  to  Watt  or  Du- 
val.  I  expect  to  see  Munson  take  the  shot,  with  Badger 
and  Slilne  iu  the  places.  Herrick  aud  Litchfield  are  the 
best  men  for  the  hurdles,  and  the  latter  should  easily  win 
the  broad  jump.  Miinsnn  and  Bishop  ought  to  rank  second 
and  third.  Tbe  Junior  100  will  be  decided  among  Richards, 
Riomla,  Robinson,  aud  Liebman.  These  men  are  a  good" 
deal  of  an  unknown  quantity.  As  the  mile  walk  is  a  new 
event,  no  safe  or  just  prediction  can  be  made. 

SOME  OBJECTION  MAY  BE  MADE  l)y  President  Sykes,  of 
the  N.Y.I. S.A.A.,  to  Ehricb's  riding  in  the  bicycle-race  Sat- 
urday, but  Ebricb  has  just  as  good  a  right  to  compete 
as  any  of  the.  rest.  If  any  protest  is  made  it  will  be 
based  on  the  fact  that  Ehrich  attended  the  College  of  the 
City  of  New  York  last  year,  and  as  a  member  of  tbe  sub- 
Fresbmau  class  competed  in  the  Intercollegiate  games  last 
spring.  But  Section  2  of  Article  X.  of  the  constitution  of 
the  N.Y.I.S.A.A.  expressly  provides  that  any  boy  hav- 
ing been  a  member  of  the  sub-Freshman  class  at  C.C.N.Y. 
is  not  debarred  from  competing  iu  games  of  tbe  associa- 
ticni  provided  he  is  under  age  and  a  member  of  some 
school.  This  year  Ebrich  is  at  the  Harvard  School.  By 


.-- 

BARNARD    SCHOOL   TRACK-ATHLETIC   TEAM. 
Wiuuei-s  ol  the  N.Y.I.S.  Championship  in  1894. 

riding  in  tbe  Intercollegiates  Ehricb  classed  himself  with 
college  men,  possibly  without  having  any  right  to  do  so. 
That  was  a  question  for  the  I.C.A.A.  to  settle  last  year.  At 
tbe  present  time,  however,  Ehrich  is  a  bona  Jidc  student  at 
the  Harvard  school,  be  is  within  the  age  limit  required  by 
tbe  I.S.A.A.,  he  has  never  "attended  any  college."  iu  tbe 
sense  conveyed  by  tbe  rules  of  the  I.S.A.A.,  and  he  ha» 


489 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


never  beeu  in  business.  It  seems  therefore  that  lie  should 
be  allowed  to  rule  without  protest,  so  loug  as  there  is  no 
direct  legislation  affecting  the  case. 

BASEBALL  is  IN  A  MUCH  MORE  flourishing  state  of  ac- 
tivity in  New  England  than  it  is  in  New  York,  although 
the  N.Y.I.S.B.B.  League  games  have  beeu  under  way  here 
for  two  weeks  nr  more.  The  championship  season  began 
in  Boston  on  April  25th,  and  will  close  on  June  7th,  when 
the  Cambridge  High  and  Latin  nine  meets  the  English 
High-school  team.  The  C.  H.  and  L.  has  held  a  leading 
position  in  the  league  ever  since  the  organization  was 
started  seven  years  ago,  and  the  team  lias  never  finished 
lower  than  in  third  place,  anil  in  four  nt'  thr  six  seasons 
has  taken  the  pennant.  This  year  the  work  of  the  players 
is  well  up  to  the  standard  set  by  their  predecessors,  except 
that  the  batting  is  weak.  The  team  work  is  fair,  and 
Mearns  has  good  control  of  the  ball,  but  little  speed.  The 
Knglish  High-school  also  came  into  the  league  at  the  start, 
and  has  played  a  close  second  to  C'.H.  and  L.  ever  since. 
Ward,  who  has  been  a  member  of  every  football  and  base- 
ball team  since  he  entered  school  in  1891,  has  made  an  efti- 
cient  Captain  since  t lie  resignation  of  Dakin.and  will  play  in 
the  box.  He  has  speed  and  good  curves,  but  he  is  liable  to 
lose  control  of  the  ball  when  touched  up  for  consecutive 
hits.  The  strength  of  the  Roxbury  Latin  nine  lies  in  Morse, 
the  pitcher;  but  as  Captain  Ewer  is  the  only  player  left 
from  last  year,  he  will  have  all  he  call  do  to  mould  his  ma- 
terial for  effective  team  work.  Just  at  present  the  Hop- 
kinsou  team  is  weak.  There  is  plenty  of  good  material  at 
hand, however,  and  as  Joe  Upton,  the  old  Harvard  phner. 
is  coaching  the  boys,  it  is  possible  that  at  the  cud  of  the 
season  unexpected  strength  will  be  developed.  The  Somer- 
ville  High  nine  is  somewhat  of  an  unknown  quantity  too. 
That  school  has  always  been  unfortunate  in  interscholastic 
athletics,  never  having  finished  higher  than  fourth  place  in 
baseball.  Last  year  every  one  expected  to  see  S.H-S.  win 
the  series,  after  they  had  defeated  the  Harvard  Freshmen 
by  a  large  score,  but  at  the  end  of  the  season  Hopkinson 
was  the  only  team  in  the  league  that  had  failed  to  defeat 
them.  As  to  the  Boston  Latin,  there  is  a  noticeable  im- 
provement over  the  standard  of  former  seasons,  and  if  the 
students  will  only  show  interest  in  baseball  work,  and  sup- 
port those  who  are  striving  to  win  glory  for  them,  such  en- 
couragement cauuot  fail  to  result  in  higher  achievements. 

ON  THE  WHOLE,  THE  MEMBERS  and  supporters  of  the  N.E. 
I.S.  Association  should  feel  well  satisfied  with  the  league's 
attainments.  It  has  certainly  succeeded  in  the  purpose  for 
which  it  was  formed — that  is,  to  train  players  for  the  Har- 
vard'Varsity  nine.  This  year  no  less  than  seven  of  the 
Crimson's  players,  including  Captain  Whittemore,  are  grad- 
uates from  the  interscholastic  ranks.  Whittemore  was  a 
B.L.S.  player  in  1891,  and  led  the  league  in  battiug.  On 
the  several  Harvard  class  teams  there  is  an  aggregate  of 
twenty-five  or  thirty  men  who  got  their  early  experience 
in  the  league.  To  encourage  sharp  work  in  interscholastic 
baseball  the  Boston  A.A.  has  this  year  offered  a  silver  cup 
as  a  trophy  to  be  played  for  during  a  term  of  five  years. 

YALK  is  .irsr  AS  MTCII  interested  in  iuterscholastic  base- 
ball in  her  neighborhood  as  Harvard  is  in  Boston  and  Cam- 
bridge, and  in  l^'.tl  offered  to  the  Connecticut  Interscho- 
lastic League  a  cup  which  was  to  stand  for  three  years,  and 
Avhich  has  now  become  the  property  of  the  Hartford  Public 
High-school  by  virtue  of  its  successes  in  1891, 1892.  and  l-'.M. 
The  Connecticut  I.  S.  League  has  sent  many  prominent  ath- 
letes to  Yale,  some  of  the  best  known  of  whom  are  Corbin, 
who  captained  the  V9  eleven  ;  Williams,  who  made  the  l.YJ 

see Is  high -hurdle  record   at   the   Berkeley  Oval  in '91; 

( 'ail  v,  who  is  a  star  in  the  same  event,  but  who  failed  to 
come  up  to  Yale's  expectations  in  the  international  games 
with  Oxford  in  London  last  summer;  and  Gallaudet,  who 
stroked  the  victorious  crew  at  New  London  in  1B93.  The 
field  meeting  of  the  Con  n.  High-school  A.A.  on  the  Charter 
Oak  track  at  Hartford  next  month  promises  to  be  one  of 
the  most  interesting  contests  of  the  interscholastic  season. 

Ix  BROOKLYN  TIIKKE  is  I'ON<II>KI:ABI.E  dissatisfaction  in 
certain  quarters  over  the  recent  ruling  of  the  L.  1. 1.  S.  A.  A., 


which  debars  from  competition  in  Saturday's  games  any 
student  who  ever  attended  collegiate  exercises  at  the  Poly- 
technic Institute.  Hitherto  the  law  has  always  been  against 
any  one  who  might  have  entered  college  and  returned  to 
school:  but  the  prohibition  was  never  exercised  against  .stu- 
dents of  Poly.  Prep.,  who,  from  the  nature  of  their  prepara- 
tory work,  took  certain  courses  in  the  collegiate  department 
of  the  Institute.  '  The  new  amendment  specifics  that  boys 
who  do  not  spend  twelve  hours  a  week  in  school  recita- 
tions,or  who  have  been  in  business  or  at  college  and  have 
returned  to  school,  shall  not  be  allowed  to  compete  in 
scholastic  events.  Poly.  Prep.,  the  Latin  School,  ami  l'.i\  - 
ant ,  &  Strattous  vigorously  opposed  the  adoption  of  this 
rule,  because  each  one  of  them  has  candidates  for  inter- 
scholastic honors  who  arc  alfected  by  the  new  legislation. 
A  moment's  thought  will  show  that  the  question  at  issue 
is  a  very  simple  and  a  very  clear  one.  A  boy  is  either  at 
school  or  he  is  not.  That  is  one  of  the  elementary  proposi- 
tions of  logic.  If  he  is  at  school,  he  should  enjoy  all  privi- 
leges in  interscholastic  athletics.  If.  on  the  other  hand, 
he  takes  certain  courses  at  school  and  others  at  college,  the 
determination  of  his  standing  should  rest  on  whether  or 
not  he  enjoys,  in  other  respects,  the  privileges  and  advan- 
tages of  a  college  man.  If  he  is  catalogued  as  a  collegian 
and  is  otherwise  admitted  to  collegiate  functions  or  per- 
formances, he  should  be  strictly  excluded  from  everything 
scholastic.  Furthermore,  if  a  boy  has  left  school  for  busi- 
ness or  for  college,  he  should  not  be  allowed  to  compete  in 
scholastic  sports  if  he  fails  in  his  attempts  or  ambitions 
and  returns,  whether  to  flic  original  school  or  to  another. 
The  new  law  will  put  a  stop  to  this  inducing  of  athletes  to 
attend  certain  institutions — a  practice  we  hear  a  great  deal 
about,  but  the  proof  of  which  is  difficult  to  obtain.  Still, 
where  there  is  so  much  smoke  there  must  be  some  lire,  and, 
on  the  whole,  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  the  new  rule 
will  tend  toward  the  purification  of  interscholastic  sport. 

THE  SEVERE  RAIN-STORM  of  April  13th  served  greatly  to 
mar  the  success  of  the  first  out-door  meeting  of  the  season, 
held  under  the  auspices  of  the  Columbia  College  Union. 
By  the  time  the  final  heat  in  the  bicycle  was  due,  the  track 
was  only  fit  fora  boat-race,  and  consequently  this  event 
was  postponed.  The  field  events  were  contested  under  dif- 
ficulties, the  earth  being  so  wet  and  soggy  that  creditable 
performances  in  the  jumps  were  of  course  impossible.  I 
wras  surprised  to  see  Simpson  drop  to  third  in  the  pole- 
vault,  but  this  weakness  was  undoubtedly  due  to  the  bad 
weather.  The  feature  of  the  Sachs  School  games  on  the 
15th  was  the  inexperience  of  the  judges.  There  being  no 
referee  it  did  not  take  loug  for  things  to  get  pretty  well 
muddled  up.  When  the  mile  run  was  adjudged  to  Tappen 
of  Cutler's,  there  was  plenty  of  loud  talking.  Tappen  led 
to  the  last  lap.  when  he  was  passed  by  Blair  of  Barnard, 
whom  he  fouled.  Blair, nevertheless, beat  him  out,  but  the 
judges  awarded  the  race  to  Tappen.  This  decision  caused 
a  great  deal  of  dissatisfaction,  and  no  end  of  disputing  and 
protesting.  The  judges  showed  a  certain  amount  of  inde- 
cision and  lack  of  firmness,  and  the  matter  ended  altogether 
unsatisfactorily.  The  games,  on  the  w  hole,  were  a  perfect 
example  of  bad  management. 

THE  BERKELEY  SCHOOL  GAMES  on  the  20th  offered  no 
particularly  notable  feature  except  in  the  matter  of  timing 
the  winners.  There  was  a  strong  sentiment  shown  on 
the  part  of  the  officials  to  record  the  smallest  figures  pos- 
sible. Moeran  was  put  down  for  16J  in  the  high  hurdles. 
I  know  he  did  not  cover  the  distance  in  an\  such  time, 
because  I  stood  at  the  finish  line,  and  held  my  watch  on 
him,  and  caught  him  at  IfiJ.  In  most  of  the  school  games 
there  is  too  much  of  a  desire  exhibited  for  record-making, 
and  the  cry  of  "run  for  time!"  is  constantly  heard.  My 
efficiency  as  a  timer  may  lie  inferior,  but  it  is  certainly  im- 
partial. It  remains  to  be  seen  whether  Powell  can  ride  in 
2m.  32?  sec.,  as  he  is  said  to  have  done  at  the  Cutler  games 
on  the  "2-1  th.  His  former  record  was  2m.  30*  sete. 


THE  BASEBALL  CHAMPIONSHIP  Menu  s  of  the  X.  Y.  I.  S.  B. 
B.  A.  began  two  weeks  ago,  but  I  regret  to  chronicle  a  lack  of 


490 


HAE  FEE'S   BOUND   TABLE 


general  interest  ou  the  part  of  the  schools  in 
the  K'nm's  thus  tar.  It  is  too  early  yet  to 
judge  of  the  relative  strength  of  the  various 
nines,  hut  it  looks  as  if  the  strongest  teams 
had  been  placed  in  thelirst  section,  and  so  the 
winner  of  that  series  may  safely  be  looked 
upon  as  the  prohahlr  holder  or'  the  cham- 
pionship I'm'  ]>;'.">.  In  IJrooklyn  there  seems 
to  be  more  enthusiasm  iu baseball  matin-, 
and  goml  work  is  being  done.  Poly.  Prep, 
will  undoubtedly  develop  a  strong  team, 
and.  under  the  captaincy  of  Stevenson, 
ought  to  earn  the  privilege  of  representing 
the  Long  Island  League  at  Eastern  Park, 
on  June  fth,  unless  they  succumb  to  St. 
rail's,  Garden  City.  In  Hall,  the  latter 
]i;i\r  a  strong  pitcher,  and  the  fielding  of 
the  entire  team  is  good.  St.  Paul's,  however, 
lias  no  excuse  for  not  making  a  strong  bid 
for  h'rst  plan1. 

IT  LOOKS  AGAIN  THIS  YEAR  as  if  Exeter 

and  Andover  would  allow  their  childish  dif- 
ferences to  interfere,  with  the  annual  base- 
Ball  game  which  used  to  be  considered  one 
of  the  most  important  events  of  New  Eng- 
land scholastic  sport.  Both  schools  may 
have  had  very  good  reason,  at  the  time  the 
breach  between  them  occurred,  to  sever 
temporarily  all  relations.  I  don't  c;n<  <« 
enter  into  the  merits  of  the  controvert  at 
presc-nt.  Km  in  allow  the  squabbles  of  one 
general  ion  of  school-boys  to  be  handed  down 
and  cherished  by  snccec'ding  classes — like  a 
Kentucky  feud — is  unmanly,  and  decidedly 
unsportsmanlike.  THE  GRADUATE. 


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ADVERTISEMENTS. 


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OFFICIAL  ANNOUNCEMENT  ^award" 

CILLOTT'S  PENS  at  the  CHICAGO  EXPOSITION. 

AWA1CD:  "  For  excellence  of  steel  used  in  their 
manufacture,  it  being  tine  Drained  and  elastic  ;  super- 
for  workmanship,  especially  shown  by  the  careful 
prindinp  which  leaves  thu  pens  free  from  defects.  The 
tempering  is  excellent  jiml  the  action  of  the  finished 
pens  perfect."  (Signed)  FRANZ  VOGT, 

(  H.  I.  KIMB.ALL,  IndividualJudge* 

Approved:-<        Pres't  Departmental  Committee. 
(JOHN  BOVI'  THACHER, 

Chairman  /•>«.-.  Com.  on  Awards. 


Leading  Books  for  Boys  and  Girls 

THE    BOY    TRAVELLERS    IN    THE    LEVANT. 

Adventure  <>f  Two  Youths  in  a  Journey  through  Morocco,  Algeria,  Tunis,  Greece,  and  Turkey,  with  Visits  to 
the  Islands  of  Rhodes  and  Cyprus,  and  the  Site  of  Ancient  Troy.  By  THOMAS  W.  Ksox.  Profusely  Illus- 
trated. Square  Svo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $3  oo. 

TWILIGHT    LAND. 

Written  and  Illustrated  by  HOWARD  PYLE,  Author  of  "The  Wonder  Clock,"  "  Pepper  and  Salt,"  "  Men  oi 
Iron,''  etc.  Svo,  Hnlf  Leather,  Ornamental,  $2  50. 

THE    STORY    OF    BABETTE, 

A  Little  Creole  Girl.  By  RUTH  McENEKV  STUART,  Author  of  "  Carlotta's  Intended,"  "  A  Golden  Wedding," 
etc.  Illustrated.  Post  Svo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1  50. 

THE    FUR-SEAL'S    TOOTH. 

A  Story  of  Alaskan  Adventure.     By  KIHK  MUNROE.     Illustrated.     Post  Svo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $i  25. 

SEA    YARNS    FOR    BOYS. 

Spun  by  an  Old  Salt.     By  W.  J.  HENDERSON.     Illustrated.     Post  Svo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $i  25 


Published  by  HARPER    &    BROTHERS,   New  York. 

Tfie  above  works  are  far  sale  !>y  all  booksellers,  or  will  l-e  sent  I')'  tin-  ptiHislicrs.  fostafe  prepaid,  to  any  parl 
of  the  Unittd  States,  Canada,  or  Mexico,  on  receipt  of  the  price. 

491 


HAKPER'S  BOUND  TABLE 


BICYCLING 


This  Depnrtr 
answer  any  q 
Wheelmen,  so 


is  conducted  in  the  interest  of  Bicyclers,  and  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to 
n  on  the  subject,  besides  inquiries  retarding  the  League  of  An""'"-"" 
t  possible.  Co.r 


ipondenta  should  address  Editor  Bicycling  Department. 

THE  MAP  THIS  WEEK  is  a  road  map  from  New  York  city 
to  Tarrytown,  aud  return.     The  reader  will  notice  at 
the  bottom  of  the  Tarrytown  route  map  that  the  route  be- 
gins at  155th  Street  aud  the  Boulevard. 

THE  BEST  ROUTE  NOW  open  to  a  wheelman  is  to  turn,  as. 
described  last  week,  from  Broadway  into  181st  Street,  aud 
go  over  a  bad  bit  of  road  until  he  reaches  Washington. 
Bridge  (2).  Ou  crossing  the  bridge  turn  sharply  to  tin- 
left  aud  go  down  Featherbed  Laue,  which  is  anything 
but  a  featherbed  road.  There  is  a  short  winding  hill  as 
the  road  turns  eastward  into  Macombs  Dam  road.  The 
latter  is  in  a  somewhat  better  condition  than  Featherbed 
Lane,  but  it  is  irregular,  narrow,  and  hilly.  It  is  short,. 
however,  aud  the  rider  should  turn  into  Fordham  Land- 
ing road  sharp  to  the  left,  goiug  down  an  incline  until  ho 
reaches  Sedgwick  Avenue.  Here  he  turns  to  the  right 
northward,  follows  Sedgwick  Avenue  for  a  few  hundred 
yards,  and  then  takes  the  left-hand  fork  where  Sedgwick 
Avenue  turns  to  the  right.  The  left-hand  fork  is  Bailey 
Avenue,  and  a  somewhat  long  hill  may  tempt  him  to  coast. 
Ou  the  whole,  it  is  wiser  not  to  do  so,  however,  as  there  is. 
an  extremely  bad  piece  of  road  at  the  bottom,  where  it  is 
wiser  to  dismount  and  walk  two  or  three  hundred  yards. 

AFTER  THIS  THE  WHEELMAN  takes  the  first  important 
turn  to  the  left,  goes  down  a  sharp  incline  and  across  two- 
railway  tracks.  This  is  a  bad  place,  and  should  be  taken 
slowly  and  with  great  care.  Immediately  after  crossing 
the  track  he  comes  iuto  the  Kingsbridge  road,  which  is  the 
turnpike  road  to  Albany.  This  is  macadamized  and  in  ex- 
cellent condition,  and  the  run  from  there  into  Yonkers  is  a 
delightful  one.  As  lie  passes  Van  Cortlandt  Park  there  are 
1  lin-e  or  four  long  slight  ascents,  which,  though  they  do  not 
look  in  the  distance  to  be  very  difficult,  are  so  long  that  I 
would  advise  him  to  take  them  slowly.  He  will  know 
when  he  is  approaching  Yonkers  by  striking  the  asphalt 
pavement,  which  runs  into  the  middle  of  the  town.  The 
road  through  Yonkers  is  direct,  passing  by  the  main  square 
of  the  towu,  where  the  Getty  House  is  the  best  place  to- 
stop,  and  where  bicycles  are  repaired,  though  Yonkers  is 
not  by  any  means  half  the  Tarrytown  trip.  Nevertheless, 
a  short  stop  may  be  made  at  Yonkers  and  another  at 
Dobbs  Ferry,  which  roughly  divides  the  journey  into  three 
parts. 

THE  ROAD  FROM  YONKERS  to  Hastings  is  almost  straight, 
and  in  capital  condition,  as,  indeed,  is  most  of  the  road  up 
to  Tarrytown.  About  a  mile  from  the  Getty  House  the 
wheelman  passes  through  Glenwood.  Two  and  a  half  miles 
out  of  Glenwood  he  should  turn  to  the  left  at  the  fork  in 
the  road,  and  keep  on  one  mile  to  Hastings.  There  is  a- 
piece  of  hilly  road  before  running  into  Hastings.  Ou  leav- 
ing Hastings  he  should  keep  to  the  left  and  run  into  Dobbs 
Ferry,  a  half-mile  distant.  If  the  wheelman  will  take  the 
time  aud  turn  to  the  left  as  he  enters  the  town,  he  will  be 
shown  uiion  inquiry  the  house  of  Judge  Beach  (3),  which  is 
the  same  old  manor-house  in  which  Washington  signed  the 
treaty  of  peace  with  Great  Britain  in  1783. 

RETURNING  FROM  JUDGE  BEACH'S  house  to  the  main  road 
again,  the  wheelman  passes  north  out  of  Dobbs  Ferry,  and 
after  travelling  a  half-mile,  turns  to  the  right,  runs  a  quar- 
ter of  a  mile  further  and  turns  to  the  left,  aud  the  road  is 
then  direct  to  Irviugtou.  It  will  well  pay  him  to  take  the, 
road  following  the  valley  down  towards  the  Hudson  west- 
ward, and  stop  a  moment  to  see  "  Suunyside  "  (4),  the  home 
of  Washington  Irving.  Pulling  back  to  the  main  road. 
again  up  a  hill,  the  wheelman  will  find  the  road  from  here 
to  Tarrytown,  about  two  miles  iu  length,  well  supplied  witbt 
hills. 

NOTK.—  Already  published,  Map  of  New  York  city,  No.  809. 


492 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Ox  RUNNING  INTO TARRYTOWN and  inquir- 
ing for  the  road  to  the  station,  which  runs 
•westward  downhill,  a  rider  can  put  up  at 
theMott  House  near  the  river.  Three  courses 
are  then  open  to  him.  He  may  either  take 
the  train  back, if  the  ride  has  been  sufficient- 
ly long  already,  or  he  may  return  by  the  same 
road,  or  on  going  up  to  the  turnpike-road 
again,  turning  left  northward,  he  will  couie 
after  a  few  hundred  yards  to  the  Andre 
monument  (5),  which  every  bicycle  rider 
who  reaches  Tarrytown  should  not  fail  to 
see.  Turning  back  again  southward,  he 
may  take  the  alternative  road  back  to 
Yonkers.  He  may  then  take  the  main  turn- 
pike, which  he  passed  over  early  in  the  day, 
or,  following  the  alternative  road  marked 
on  the  chart,  may  come  down  through  Ki  ver- 
tlale  and  the  villages  along  the  bank  of  the 
Hudson,  meeting  the  Kiugsbridge  road  at 
Kiiigsbrid"f  again. 


TIlis  Department  is  conducted  in  the  interest  of  Girls  and  Yonni 
W.-nieii,  nncl  ihi-  KdiKir  will  be  f.leitseil  to  Hiiswer  any  question  01 
the  subject  so  in  AS  pos&ible.  Correspondents  should  uddress  Editor. 


ri^ELL  yon  what  books  I  read  when  I 
_L  was  a  little  girl?''  Molly  E  --  asks 
the  question.  Why,  I  am  delighted  to  an- 
swer you,  Molly.  I  am  very  fond  of  the 
little  girl  I  used  to  be  a  long  time  ago.  I 
can  see  her  now,  merrily  going  to  school, 
day  after  day,  along  a  river  road  bordered 
by  tall  willow  -trees,  crossing  a  bridge,  and 
reaching  a  pretty  little  school-house,  with 
windows  giving  on  the  pleasant  life  of  a 
river,  which  all  the  year  round  was  beauti- 
ful in  the  children's  eyes,  and  which  is  very 
dear  in  their  memories. 

IN  THOSE  DAYS  an  enchanter,  whose  name 
was  Jacob  Abbott,  was  writing  wonderful 
books  for  young  people.  None  of  you  will 
ever  have  greater  enjoyment  in  the  books 
written  for  you  now  than  we  girls  of  that 
period  had  in  the  Rollo  Books,  in  which 
Eollo  and  Lucy,  and  a  pearl  of  a  hired  man 
named  Jonas,  and  Hollo's  father  and  Rollo's 
mother,  played  important  parts.  We  ate 
and  slept  and  travelled  with  Rollo,  we 
breathed  his  mountain  air,  we  studied  with 
him,  and  learned  a  great  deal  about  both  na- 
ture and  morals,  without  suspecting  that  we 
were  being  taught.  Abbott's  histories,  CiW- 
lemiujne,  yapolnin,  Charles  I.,  Josephine,  ever 
so  many  of  them  were  on  my  bookshelf, 
where  I  had,  a  little  later,  the  Waverley 
Novels  ;  nor  shall  I  ever  forget  the  breath- 
less pace  at  which  I  raced  through  Ma- 
caulay's  History  of  England. 

WHEN  I  WAS  fifteen  somebody  gave  mo 
Zeatherstoclcmg  and  The  Last  of  the  Mohicans, 
and  these  introduced  me  to  Cooper,  whoso 
stories  I  found  entertaining  and  full  of  a 
feeling  of  out-door  life.  But  for  sheer  pleas- 
ure in  a  book  there  never  was  anything  so 
lovely  as  the  experience  I  had,  when  about 
ten,  in  reading  Mrs.  Sherwood's  stories. 
You  girls  do  not  know  much  about  them. 
but  there  were  The  Fairchild  Family,  and 
Little  Henry  and  his  Bearer,  and  a  thrilling 
tale,  the  name  of  which  I  have  forgotten,  all 
about  a  very  naughty  girl  who  went  to  live 


with  an  aunt,  who  spoiled  her  to  such  an 
extent  that  when  she  came  home  she  couldn't 
live  in  peace  with  her  brothers  and  sisters, 
and  led  the  whole  family,  including  her  papa 
and  mamma,  a  perfectly  dreadful  life.  I  re- 
member this  story  with  a  great  deal  of  af- 
fection, and  I  think  the  heroine's  name  was 
Caroline,  but  I  am  not  sure.  Anna  J!nxx  \\  as 
a  book  at  this  period,  ami  it  was  followed 
by  The  ll'idi',  Hi/It-  World,  a  dear  story,  which 
I  hope  many  of  you  will  read,  for  it  is  prob- 
ably in  all  your  Sunday-school  libraries. 
It  was  the  work  of  Miss  Susan  Warner,  who 
wrote  Queechy  and  other  equally  excellent 
books  for  girls,  after  Ellen  Montgomery,  her 
heroine  in  the  first,  had  stolen  our  hearts. 

I  TRUST  NONE  of  yon  will  ever  be  so  im- 
polite as  I  was  when  I  went  to  visit  my  girl 
friends.  I  blush  to  think  of  it  now,  after  so 
many  years;  but,  do  you  know,  if  they  had 
a  new  book,  I  simply  seized  upon  it,  and 
never  stopped  till  I  read  it  through,  so  that 
as  a  guest  I  was  of  no  use,  never  waking 
from  my  trance  until  I  had  finished  the  last 
page  of  the  treasure.  Finally  one  of  my 
friends, . Jenny  V.  G.,  devised  this  plan,  and 
carried  it  out  successfully  :  When  she  ex- 
pected me  to  visit  her  for  a  week,  she  living 
in  the  country  and  I  in  town,  she  simply 
liiil  all  the  books  which  she  knew  I  had  not 
read,  and  never  brought  them  out  till  I  had 
gone  home  again. 

You  see,  my  dears,  I  was  not  a  pattern 
for  you  to  imitate.  There  was  not  a  paper 
in  existence  in  my  childhood  worthy  of  be- 
ing compared  with  the  ROUND  TABLE;  but 
at  our  school  we  wrote  a  weekly  paper,  con- 
tributed to  it  ourselves,  and  made  a  half- 
dozen  copies  to  pass  around.  I  began  being 
an  editor  quite  early  in  life. 


A.DVKRTISEJVtKN'TS. 

Awarded 
Highest    Honors  —  World's   Fair. 

•DR; 


BAKING 


POWDER 


MOST  PERFECT  MADE. 
A  pure  Grape  Cream-of-Tartar  Powder.  Free 
from  Ammonia,  Alum,  orany  other  adulterant 

40  YEARS  THE  STANDARD. 
Price  Baking  Powder  Co.,  Chicago. 


493 


Impressed  on 

the  Memory 

that  POND'S  EXTRACT  is 
without  equal  for  relieving 
pain,  and  that  no  other  rem- 
edy should  be  accepted  as 
"just  as  good." 

Avoid  substitutes ;    accept   genuine    only  with   buff 
wrapper  and  yellow   label. 

POND'S  EXTRACT  CO. 

76  Fifth  Avenue,  N.  Y. 


The  price  has  nothing   to  Jo 
with  the 


FIT 


For  ALL  of  Dr.  Warner's  Cor- 
sets are  fitted  to  living  models. 

Prices  from  one  to  six  dollars  each. 


Stamps,  Src. 


I  BOO  fine  mixed  Victoria,  Cape  of  G. 

!  H.,India.  lapan.etc..  with  111":  Stamp 
ly  10c.  New  8o-p.  Price-list  IVee. 
.-l^t'/fs  wanted  at  6O$  commission.  STANDARD 
STAMP  CO..  4  Nicholson  Place.  St.  Louis.  Mo.  Old 
U.S.  and  Confederate  Stamps  bought. 


Albu 


ISO  VARIETIES,   many  rare. 
25C.;   500   Mixed   Foreign.   i6c.; 


ST A IWI  PS  ' 

varieties  United  States.  2;c.;  o^Peru,  8c.;  8  Brazil.  ioc'.;  9  Chin, 
roc.;  3  Samoa,  8c.;  6  Servia,  roc.;  6  Egypt.  8c.;  6  Persia,  2oc.; 
Greece.  loc.;  7  Tur' 
Edward*.  Peek 


Turkey,  roc. 


8  Calumet  Ave.,  Chicago,  111. 


100  all  dif.  Venezuela,  Costa  Rica,  etc.,  only 
IOC. ;  200  nil  dif. Hay! i, Hawaii, etc. , only  50c. 
A«'tswantedat5(iperct.com.  List  FktCE! 
C.A.Stegmann,2T22EadsAv.,St.Louis,Ho. 

var.,  all  dif.,  Be.;  12  var.  Heligoland, 

_______      15c.;  6var.  Italy,  185S  tolS62,  5c.;  3  var. 

Hanover,  5c.:  35  var.  C'. American, 50c.  Agents  wanioil. 
F.  W.  JI1LLEK,  904  Olive  St.,  St.  Louis,  Ho. 

0O  worth  of  stamps  for  $1.  All  perfect  specimens  se- 
lf 0  lected  friim  collection;  cannot  be  bought  for  tn  ice 
our  price  Satisfaction  guai'anteed  or  money  refunded. 
Send  $1  bill.  Old  Colony  Stamp  Co.,  Plainyillc,  Mass. 

CDCC  I  8  Handsome  Japan  Postage  Stamps 
rnLL  !  f"i'2c.-  lOOall  different,  IOC.;  100  raised,  Sc. 
j.  A.  WILSON,  1108  Fairmount  Ave.,  Phila. 

POSTAGE   ODES.— 50c.   and  30c.,  at  70c.  each;   the 
pair  forfl.25.  Diamond  Stnmp  Co.,(ieraiautonu,Pa. 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Varying  Farm  Life. 

I  live  on  a  farm  twenty-four  miles  from  New  York  city,  but  am 
fond,  as  you  may  see  from  my  letter,  of  reaching  out  beyond  the 
farm  and  farm  life  and  making  inquiries  about  other  things.  I  col- 
lect stamps,  and  have  some  old  coins,  one,  a  1720  piece,  which  I  found 
in  the  flria  one  day  while  cultivating  corn.  I  am  sixteen  years  old. 
Could  you  tell  me  how  to  make  an  induction  coil  for  taking  shocks? 
Could  you  also  ii-ll  me  how  to  make  a  blow-pipe?  I  am  thinking  of 
making  an  electric  telegraph.  Could  you  give  me  some  points  on  it? 
1  have  the  Morse  telegraph  alphabet,  but  don't  understand  it  or 
know  how  to  use  it. 

Here  is  a  game  to  be  played  when  there  are  manyto  play  it.  Each 
one  is  provided  with  a  slip  of  paper  and  a  pencil.  There  are  three 
persons  who  are  in  the  secret— a  confederate,  the  clairvoyant,  and 
medium.  Each  one  writes  a  word  or  short  sentence  on  the  paper. 
The  clairvoyant  seats  herself  before  the  writers,  and  the  medium 
rubs  her  forehead  with  a  handkerchief  to  put  her  in  a  trance. 
Then  the  medium  collects  the  papers,  takes  any  one  of  them  (except 
the  blank  one,  which  must  be  left  till  last),  and  puts  it  on  the  clair- 
Toyant's  forehead.  She  makes  up  a  sentence,  which  sentence  must 
be  claimed  by  the  confederate,  who  really  wrote  nothing.  Then  the 
clairvoyant  takes  it  from  her  forehead  to  see  if  she  was  right.  Of 
course  she  reads  it,  and  when  the  next  paper  is  put  on  her  forehead 
relates  what  she  read  on  the  preceding  slip,  greatly  to  the  amuse- 
ment and  often  the  surprise  of  the  writer. 

Do  you  want  some  riddles? 

WIST  NVACK.  H.  A.  KRETCHSIAR. 

You  cannot  make  an  induction  coil  save  at  considerable  expense, 
and  even  then  it,  is  not  as  good  as  the  one  you  may  buy  for  less 
money.  Apply  to  any  dealer  in  electrical  supplies. 

A  blow-pipe  is  simply  a  small  pipe  or  tube  a  few  inches  long  and 
bent,  at  a  right  angle  very  near  one  end.  Insert  one  end  in  your 
mouth,  the  bent  end  in  a  gas  or  even  lamp  flame,  and  blow  gently. 
The  effect  is  a  flame  many  t  imes  hotter  than  the  still  flame. 

You  can  make  a  telegraph  key.  Make  a  walnut  or  oak  base  four 
by  eight  inches.  Erect  two  uprights  in  the  centre,  one  inch  apart 
and  two  inches  high.  Put  between  them  a  wood  lever  six  inches 
long.  In  one  end  of  the  lever  insert  a  common  screw,  and  from  the 
base  raise  a  metal  contact — a  common  nail  will  do — about,  two 
inches  back  of  the  uprights.  Any  metal  surface,  as  two  brass  but- 
tons, will  do  for  the  screw  and  nail  to  "click"  against,  a  hand-pin 
may  be  made  from  the  end  of  a  common  spool.  This  key.  of  a  ^.  iod 
pattern,  may  be  bought  for  $3,  in  brass.  You  can  get  along  wit  li»ut 
a  "sounder."  Get  some  practical  operator  to  show  you  about  the 
alphabet.  Do  not  try  to  learn  it.  from  instruction  books.  If  you  do 
you  will  be  sure  to  learn  at  the  same  time  many  faults.  TCe  want 
good  riddles — new,  not  old  ones. 


Costa  Rican  Country  Life. 

Costa  Rica,  or,  translated  into  English,  "rich  coast,"  is  the  most 
progressive  of  the  Central  American  republics.  The  people  are 
very  home-staying,  that  is,  they  do  not  like  to  travel,  as  do  the 
English  and  Americans.  They  all  seem  to  like  their  country,  and 
rightly  too,  for  there  are  few  prettier  lands  or  more  delightful  cli- 
mates. It  is  very  mountainous,  but  not  many  very  high  peaks.  All 
the  way  from  the  port  at  Limou  to  San  Jose,  the  capital,  there  is 
grand  scenery.  Passing  along  on  the  train  up  a  steep  grade  one 
looks  back  and  wonders  how  the  road-builders  ever  got  up.  In 
some  places  along  on  the  mountain-sides,  as  the  train  passes,  you 
can  pick  ferns  out  of  one  window  and  out  of  the  other  can  see  the 
valley  far  below,  with  little  houses  that  look  as  if  built  for  dolls.  In 
some  of  these  places  it  is  very  dangerous,  and  the  train  has  to  go 
very  slowly. 

Arriving  in  San  Jose  and  just  leaving  the  station  you  can  see  the 
city  lying  below  you.  A  little  to  the  left,  and  at  about  the  middle, 
you  can  see  the  large  round  dome  of  the  cathedral,  and  a  little  way 
back  the  large  red  roof  of  the  new  theatre.  To  the  right  lie  the 
new  school  building  and  the  Plaza  de  Toros.  Entering  more  into 
the  city  one  is  surprised  and  pleased  at  the  numerous  pretty  parks 
that  are  scattered  all  through  it.  San  Jose  is  called  the  "  Little 
Paris,"  as  here  you  can  see  the  Spanish  beauties  dressed  in  the  latest 
Parisian  styles.  Sunday  afternoon  is  the  time  when  the  senoritas 
take  a  promenade  in  the  Parque  Central,  where  the  music  is  playing 
and  all  is  gay. 

Let  us  leave  the  city  life  and  people  and  look  at  the  poor  folks  of 
the  country,  who  toil  that  all  these  city  people  may  be  comfortable. 
The  average  country  people  can  neither  read  nor  write,  because 
until  quite  a  recent  date  schools  have  not  been  general.  Although 
they  cannot  read  or  write,  most  of  them  have  very  intelligent  faces, 
and  are  well  informed  about  their  position.  The  houses  of  these 
people  are  very  mean  structures,  built  of  only  rough  boards  lapped 
over  and  nailed.  The  roof  is  of  sugar-cane  leaves,  or,  at  the  best, 
tiles  made  out  of  mud  and  clay  baked.  Inside  the  houses  there 
are  rarely  more  than  two  rooms,  neither  of  them  having  other  floor 
than  the  bare  ground.  The  cooking  range  is  only  a  platform  covered 
•with  sand.  There  are  three  stones  to  set  the  kettles  on.  The  smoke 
wanders  off  through  the  roof  or  door,  for  as  a  rule  there  are  no  win- 
dows. The  furniture  is  not  very  extensive,  and  consists  of  a  table 
and  oue  or  two  ••  taburetes"  (chairs  covered  with  the  skin  of  an  ox). 


In  every  house  you  enter  you  will  find  some  corner  or  shelf  wbere- 
im  is  placed  some  image  or  saint,  The  picture  of  their  patron  saint 
is  hung  on  the  wall.  The  house  is  as  free  to  the  chickens,  pigs,  and 
dogs  as  to  the  people  themselves.  The  pigs  run  around,  picking  up 
what  can  be  found  to  eat  on  the  floor,  and  then  crawl  away  under 
the  bed  or  table  and  sleep  the  sleep  of  the— pig. 

The  people  are  generally  strong  and  healthy.  Their  food  consists, 
year  in  and  year  out,  of  rice  and  frijoles  (black  beans),  and  the  great 
Costa  Rican  bread  called  tortilla.  A  tortilla  is  dried  hulled  corn 
ground  on  a  stone  and  made  into  a  sort  of  pancake,  which  is  laid 
amongst  the  ashes  and  baked.  When  one  has  learned  to  eat  it.  it  is 
very  good.  The^people  are  not  such  thieves  as  they  have  been  rep- 
resented to  be  by  many.  To  be  sure,  they  will  steal  food,  eggs,  vege- 
tables, and  firewood,  but  nothing  more.  I  have  known  a  mill  to  be 
open  for  over  three  months,  with  valuable  tools  lying  around,  but. 
never  a  one  missing.  The  people  are  very  polite,  and  when  passing 
one  in  the  road  they  always  say  adios  (good-by),  or  buenos  dias 
(good-day).  The  men  all  carry  a  large  knife  suspended  at  the  belt, 
but  it  is  for  such  use  as  we  make  of  a  pen  or  pocket  knife. 

SAN  ,Ti.3B.  COSTA  RICA.  Sir  L.  E    TOWEII. 


Ifoano. 

A  friend  of  the  TABLE  and  of  the  School  Fund  wrote  recently  to 
Jules  Verne,  telling  him  about  Good  Will  Farm,  and  asking  him  for  a 
letter  to  be  sold  to  that  American  admirer  who  would  bid  highest  for 
it.  The  great  novelist  readily  responded,  and  the  letter,  wholly  in 
Mr.  Verne's  own  hand,  is  now  in  our  possession.  Of  course  it  is  in 
French,  but  here  is  a  translation  of  it : 

JIarc/i  27,  1895. 

DEAR  SIR,— I  hasten  to  reply  to  your  letter,  which  is  inspired  by 
such  a  touching  idea.  I  should  be  happy  if  these  few  lines,  which 
you  request,  could  contribute,  in  some  slight  degree,  to  the  success 
of  your  charitable  un<lei't;iking  I  believe  that  I  have  in  your  coun- 
try many  friends,  unknown  but  sincere,  judging  from  the  letters  I 
receive.  This  will  afford  me  an  opportunity  to  pay  my  tribute  of 
gratitude  to  them,  and  I  beg  you  to  accept,  with  my  entire  sympa- 
thy, the  assurance  of  my  sincere  regard.  JULES  VERNE. 

The  TABLE  much  appreciates  the  gentleman's  kind  act,  and  warm- 
ly thanks  him.  The  original  of  the  letter  is  to  be  used  in  an  exhibi- 
tion of  other  similar  letters,  and  at  the  close  of  that  exhibition  will, 
with  some  other  rare  manuscripts,  including  one  by  James  Russell 
Lowell,  kindly  given  to  the  Fund  by  Professor  Charles  Eliot  Norton, 
and  original  letters  by  Sir  Walter  Scott,  Victor  Hugo,  Alexander 
Hamilton,  Charles  Dickens,  William  M.  Thackeray,  Louis  XV.  of 
France,  and  Emperor  Napoleon  I.  and  others,  all  belonging  to  the 
Fund  through  the  kindness  of  its  friends.be  offered  for  sale  to  the 
highest  bidders. 

Our  Fund  grows  slowly.  Have  you  helped  it  along  yet?  We  re- 
print the  Mite  for  your  use.  Any  one  of  any  age  may  contribute. 
Write  plainly  that  no  errors  may  be  made  in  the  Honor  Roll. 


«;<>OD    \V1LL,    MITE 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 
INDUSTRIAL    SCHOOL    F  V  X  F> 


Amount,  $. 


If  yon  use  this  Good  Will   M  ur  letter, 

order  tliat  it  tuny  lie  detached  Inr  tiling.  It  tbe  amount  is 
ven  by  more  tlrr.  one  >  ontl  it'iitor,  add  blank:  I-T  tlif  ir  n:ini.'-. 
it  attach  the  added  sheet  firmly  to  the  Mite,  that  it  may  not 
•come  detached  and  l.-.t.  Ih<  In,!.-  a  ^ivm  name  in  each  case, 
id  write  plainly,  to  avoid  erroms  on  the  Honor  Roll. 


Corner. 

John  Frame.  936  Main  Street,  Stevens  Point,  Wis..  wants  to  trade 
pressed  flowers  and  to  correspond  about  botany.  G.  Edward  Harri- 
son, room  70S,  Fidelity  Building,  Baltimore,  is  interested  in  amatevir 
journalism  and  wants  samples.  Similar  requests  are  made  by 
Claude  Reno,  399  Chew  Street,  Allentown.  Pa.,  who  wants  to  con- 
tribute essays  and  funny  paragraphs;  and  by  F.  R.  Pyne,  717  Grove 
Street,  Elizabeth.  N.  J.,  who  wants  to  join  a  Chapter  that  publishes 
a  paper  and  that  trades  stamps.  Bert  Segal  sends  money  for  a 
badge,  but  sends  no  address. 

We  should  like  to  oblige  Lantie  V.  Blum  by  telling  the  TABLE 
about  his  store,  but  cannot  well  do  so.  Josephine  Moulton  Shaw- 
sends  a  diagram  about  the  familiar  bird-cage  and  bird  illusion. 
She  also  sends  "Kink"  answers  which  are  correct.  She  may  write 
again. 


494 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


nim  on  tlic  subject 
Editor  Stamp  De- 


This  Department  is  conducted  in  Hie  interest  of  st 
and  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to  answer  nny  iju 
BO  far  as  possible.    Correspondents  should  addre 
Brtmeot. 

IT  is  STATED  that  Germany  issued  a 
special  postal  card  to  commemorate  the 
birthday  of  Bismarck.  Some  think  the 
cards  v^i-iv  issued  by  private  parties,  as 
was  The  caae  of  the  Columbian  cards  issued 
at  Chicago. 

THE  NEW  STAMPS  of  Mexico  were  given  to 
the  public  on  April  2d,  there  being  thirteen 
adhesive  in  I  lie  set,  of  which  two  are  here 
illustrated.  Four  of  the  designs  represent 


the  different  modes  of  carrying  the  mail  in 
Mexico,  and  the  otber  design  shows  the  stat- 
ue of  Moutezuma. 

L.  Done. — The   Uniled    States   stamps  of    current 

I.-SIK-  lux-iik  when  lidded,  because  the  paper  is  brittle. 

The  thirty-cent  siute  Department  stamp  is  sold  at  $4, 

the  fifteen-cent  Justice  at  $3. 

JAMKS  ESMONDS.— The  Confederate  States  1862,  ten 
juts,  is  sold  at  $3,  the  other?  have  no  value. 
EN\VARI>  TATNAI.L.— The  Hartford  die  of  the  United 
tair>  (Viit'Minial  mvelope    lias  a  double  line  under 

the  w<ml   "Postage."    The  Philadelphia  die  shows 

only  a  single  line. 

S.  H.— The  prt  ol  Columbian  postal  cards  is  sold 
for  about  fifty  rent?.. 

E.  P.  Titii'i1. — The  blue  Special  Delivery  stamp  \vn^ 
brought  out  again  after  tlic  orange  color  was  ivtin-il 
from  use.  It  i*  Hie  same  plate  as  formerly  used,  and 
is  practically  the  same  stamp  as  was  issued  before  the 
orauge  color. 

A.  S.  S. — The  stamps  used  at  the  period  of  the  cele- 
brated "  Stamp  Act  "  were  for  the  collection  nt  reve- 
nue. The  stamp  dealers  may  he  able  to  supply  them, 
but  it  i*  hardly  probable. 


WALTER  BAKER  &  CO. 

The  Largest  Manufacturers  of 
PURE,  HIGH  GRADE 

.COCOAS  AND  CHOCOLATES 

On  this  Continent,  have  received 

HIGHEST  AWARDS 

from  the  great 

Industrial  and  Food 

EXPOSITIONS 

In  Europe  and  America. 

Unlike  the  Dutch  Process,  no  Alka- 
liea  or  other   Chemicals  or  Dyes  are 
used   in  nny  of  their  preparations. 
Their  delicious  BREAKFAST  COCOA  IB  absolutely 
pure  and  soluble,  and  costs  less  than  one  cent  a  cup. 


SOLD    BY    GROCERS    EVERYWHERE. 


WALTER  BAKER  &  GO.  DORCHESTER,  MASS. 


IVORY  SOAP 


PURE 


Dingy  carpets  can  be  cleansed  and  brightened  on  the  floor.  Sweep 
thoroughly,  spread  a  stiff  lather  of  Ivory  Soap  over  a  small  surface  at  a 
time,  scrub  with  a  clean  scrubbing  brush  and  wipe  off  with  a  damp 
sponge. 


THE  PROCTER  ft  GAMBLE  Co..  CIN'TI 


iniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiifiiinfnniifiiMiiiiiiififniiiiiiiiifiiiiifi 


GALLONS  TOR  25 


s     Not  of  the  preparations  of  coloring  £ 

§      matter  atid  essential  oils  so  often  5 

§     sold  under  the  name  of  rootbeer,  £ 

but  of  the  purest,  most  delicious,  s 
|     health-giving  beverage  possible  to 

=     produce.    One  gallon  of  Hires'  is  3 

worth  ten  of  the  counterfeit  kind.  S 

5     Suppose  an  imitation  extract  costs  £ 

£     five  cents  less   than   the  genuine  £ 

£     Hires;  the   same  amount  of  sugar  3 

£     and  trouble  is  required;  you  save  £ 

|     one  cent  a  gallon,  and— get  an  un-  £ 

healthful  imitation  in  theend.  Ask  = 
£      for  HIRES  and  get  it. 

HIRES! 

( Rootbeer  ( 

THE  CHA3.  E.  HIRES  CO.,  Philadelphia. 

nun nun iiiiiiiu iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiminiR 


HOOPING-COUGH 
CROUP. 

Roche's  Herbal  Embrocation. 

Thecelebrated  and  effectual  English  Cure  without 
internal  medicine.  Proprietors,  W.  EDWARD  &  SON, 
Queen  Victoria  St.,  London,  England.  Wholesale  of 
E.  Fouffera&Co.,3ONortli :  William  St.,  N.Y. 


FALSE    MUSTACHES  AND 

GOATEES. 

Fun  f-Ttheboys, 
it,      n.nij, ],•:,•      dlB 
Kiiise;    Fine  hair 
I  goods.  As  Sample 
•  of  our  looo  Novel- 
ties, we  send  one  of  each  with  lur^p  Catalogue  for  loc. 

R.  H.  INGERSOLL  &  BRO.,  65  CORTLANDT  ST.,  N.  Y.  CITT. 

WANTED.    100,000  BOYS, 

to  sell  the  EUREKA  MARKING  TAG  for 

marking  hats,  etc.,  now  aiid  in  Summer  vacation. 
Sells  at  sight.  Send  10  cents  iu  coin  for  samples.  Ad. 
dress  Eureka  Marking  Tag  Co.,  Cedar  Falls,  Iowa. 


FISH 


I  CATCH  10  TIMES  AS  MANY  with  CAPE  COD  C03I- 
POUND;  used  for  fresh  or  suit  water.put  a  little  on 
your  bait  an>l  ilattracla  fish  quickly.  We  have  received 

hundreds  of  testimonials;  81' « '  '">  Guarantee  that  it  is  O9  we  claim,  try  ap'kge. 
Will  last  all  Summer.  SURl'H^E  EVERYBODY  by  y^ur  big  catches.  A  50 
CENT  PACK  AGE  will  beaent  postpai-i  for  ONLY  ID  CENTS,  (silver  or  Bt'pa) 
tf  you  mention  this  paper.  ARtfU  MFG.  CO.  ,  Box  1207,  BOSTON,  MASS. 


CARD 


ts  500  c 


hour.  TOUcan  make  money  with  it  A  font  o* 
pretty  type,  alao  Indelible  Ink.  Type  Holder.  P»1s 
and  Tweezers.  Beat  Linen  Marker;  worth  Si  <HI. 
Sample  mailed  FREE  for  K)c.  stamps  for  piustxe  on 
outfit  ari>l  lar?e  catalogue  of  1000  Bargains. 
R.jl.  IngBrsomi  Bro,  66  Cortlaodt  St.  M.T.  City 

SEND  for  Catalogue  of 
the    Musical    Instru- 
ment you  think  of  buying. 
Violins  repaired   by  the 

Cremona  System.  C.  STORY, 
26  Central  St..  Boston.  Mass. 

BOY^&filRI  3  ARE  MADE  HAPPY 

DU  I  O  "UlnLOby.scndinrtlieirnameaDdaddresson 
a  postal  card  to  BOOR.IIAN  *  J'ARKEH,  17.1,  5lh  AYE.,  Cllic«Bo. 


PLAYS 


Dialogues,  Speakers,  for  School, 
I'lub  and  Parlor.  Catalogue  free. 
T.  S.  DENISON,l'ub.CMcago,Ul. 


><X><XXX>O<><><XXXKKKXXK>O- 

Oommil  b  ft^mor^    | 

the  best  things  in  Prose  and  Poetry,  always  includ- 
ing good  Songs  and  Hymus.  It  is  surprising  how 
little  good  work  of  this  kind  seems  to  be  done  in 
the  Schools,  if  one  must  judge  from  the  small  num- 
ber of  people  who  can  repeat,  without  mistake  or 
omission,  as  many  as  Three  good  songs  or  hymns. 

f  bur,  jSIjnrp,  JWmtl0t 

and  accurate  Memory  work  is  a  most  excellent 
thing,  whether  in  School  or  out  of  it,  among  all  ages 
and  all  classes.  But  let  that  which  is  so  learned  be 
worth  learning  and  worth  retaining.  The  Franklin 
Square  Song  Collection  presents  a  large  number  of 


and  Hymns,  in  great  variety  and  very  carefully 
selected,  comprising  Sixteen  Hundred  in  the  Eight 
Numbers  thus  far  issued,  together  with  much 
choice  and  profitable  Reading  Matter  relating  to 
Music  and  Musicians.  In  the  complete  and  varied 


01}  ©mtlmtta, 


which  is  sent  free  on  application  to  the  Publishers 
there  are  found  dozens  of  the  best  things  in  the 
World,  which  are  well  worth  committing  to  mem- 
ory; and  they  who  know  most  of  such  good  things, 
and  appreciate  and  enjoy  them  most,  are  really 
among  the  best  educated  people  in  any  country. 
They  have  the  best  result  of  Education.  For  above 
Contents,  with  samp'le  pages  of  Music,  address 

Harps;  &  Brothers.  New  York. 


495 


SISTER    SUB'S    DREAM    ABOUT    BROTHER   TOMMY. 


AN  IRON   PLUM. 

THE  London  coster  has  become  a  very  interesting  char- 
acter, and  many  songs,  and  good  ones  too,  have  lieen  written 
about  his  virtues  .-ind  his  weaknesses.  Some  of  these  street 
venders  have  made  fortunes,  and  have  retired  to  live  the 
"balance  of  their  days  in  ease.  One  of  these  retired  gentle- 
men was  interviewed  not  long  ago  by  a  London  newspaper, 
and  in  the  course  of  the  talk  he  showed  how  some  of  them 
Tiad  managed  to  grow  rich  so  speedily. 

"The  costers  wot  sold  plums  made  the  money,"  he  said, 
"  an'  a  bloomiu'  big  part  of  it  came  from  wot  they  calls  the 
iron  plum.  A  fair  take  in  that  was.  You  wouldn't  have 
known  it  from  a  real  'nu — colored  just  the  same,  and  with 
a  good  bloom  on  it.  Course  you  took  care  to  keep  it  close 
at  hand,  and  at  your  side  of  the  heap  yon  was  selling  from. 
'  Come  and  have  lumping  weight,'  says  yon,  and  yon  popped 
the  iron  'nn  in  among  the  others,  and  wallop  went  the  scale, 
•with  pVhaps  no  more  than  half  a  p'und  instead  of  a  p'niid 
in. 

"All  you  had  to  do  was  to  take  just  one  —  the  one,  as 
"beiug  rather  too  much  of  a  good  tiling  in  the  way  of  over- 
weight, just  as  you  were  handing  the  plums  to  the  cus- 
tomer, and  the  trick  was  done.  It  was  bowled  out,  though, 
"in  a  mm  sort  o'  way  before  it  had  been  in  use  long  enough 
to  do  any  of 'em  so  much  good.  I  had  a  pitch  in  Leather 
Lane  at  the  time,  and  it  being  plum  season,  I  was  working 
the  bullet,  as  we  used  to  call  it,  and  so  was  the  woman  who 
kept  the  stall  nest  to  me.  There  used  to  be  a  beadle  sort 
of  chap  to  keep  order  in  the  lane,  and  he  was  always  un- 
common handy  at  spotting  the  finest  fruit  on  a  man's  liar- 
row  and  whipping  it  into  his  mouth  without  so  much  as 
asking  for  it.  Course  yon  couldn't  say  anything  against 
it,  or  you  might  set  up  his  back  against  you.  So  one  day 
he  was  coming  round  as  usual,  and  he  spies  that  partieler 
fine  black  plum  on  the  woman's  stall,  and  before  she  could 
prevent  it  he  had  hold  of  it.  I  s'pose  it  was  her  pouncing 
on  him  so  quick  confused  him,  and  prewented  him  feeling 
4he  extra  weight  of  it.  '  Don't  take  that  'nn,  Mr.  Grabbum,' 
she  said;  'it  isn't  ripe.  Let  me  pick  you  out  a  ripe'nn.' 
T3nt  old  Grabbum  he  only  grinned  and  winked,  and  popped 
it  into  his  mouth.  But  he  didn't  keep  it  there  long.  He 
made  one  bite  at  it, and  then  he  began  to  dance  and  splut- 
ter, which,  being  an  uncommon  thing  for  a  beadle  to  do, 
soon  brought  a  crowd  round  him.  But  it  was  wuss  thau 
we  had  first  thought  it  was.  We  didn't  kuow  that  the 
greedy  old  warmeut  had  false  teeth,  but  he  had,  and  he 
broke  Vm  all  to  shivereens  along  with  the  iron  plum, 
which  fell  with  such  a  whack  on  the  pavement  that  there 
was  no  mistaking  what  it  was  made  for." 


A  SMALL  BOY'S  ANSWER. 

AT  a  country  school  in  England  it  is  said  that  one  of  the 
-examiners  in  a  general  exercise  wrote  the  word  "dozen" 
on  the  blackboard,  and  asked  the  pupils  to  each  write  a 
sentence  containing  the  word.  He  was  somewhat  taken 
aback  to  find  on  one  of  the  papers  the  following  sentence, 
"  I  dozen  know  uiy  lesson." 


A   STUPID  BUTLER 

SPANISH  people  seem  to  suffer  from  the  stupidity  of  some 
of  their  servants  as  much  as  we  do  in  America,  if  the  fol- 
lowing story,  which  appeared  in  a  Madrid  journal,  is  true. 
It  seems  that  a  lady  ordered  her  butler  one  morning  to  tell 
all  visitors  that  she  was  not  at  home.  At  night,  when 
enumerating  the  persons  who  had  called  during  the  day, 
he  mentioned  the  lady's  sister,  when  his  mistress  exclaim- 
ed:  "  I  told  yon,  man,  that  I  was  always  at  home  for  my 
sister!  Yon  ought  to  have  shown  her  in." 

Next  day  the  lady  went  out  to  make  a  few  calls,  and 
during  her  absence  her  sister  came  to  the  house. 

"  Is  your  mistress  at  home  ?"  she  asked  the  butler. 

"  Yes,  madam,"  was  his  reply. 

The  lady  went  up  stairs,  and  looked  everywhere  for  her 
sister.  On  coming  down  stairs  she  said  to  the  butler,  "My 
sister  must  have  gone  out,  for  I  could  not  find  her." 

"Yes,  madam,  she  has  gone  out,  but  she  told  me  last  night 
that  she  was  always  at  home  for  you." 


STRUCK  TOO  SOON. 

NAPOLEON  BONAPARTE  at  one  time  contemplated  an  in- 
vasion of  England,  and  so  certain  was  he  of  success  that  he 
had  a  medal  struck  in  Paris  in  honor  of  the  event.  Only 
one  specimen  has  been  left  to  posterity,  because  at  the 
failure  of  the  bold  enterprise  he  expressly  ordered  the  med- 
als and  dies  to  be  destroyed.  On  one  side  is  the  Emperor's 
half-length  portrait,  on  the  reverse  is  the  image  of  Her- 
cules stifling  the  giant  Antaeus  in  his  arms.  On  the  top 
are  the  words,  "Desceute  en  Augleterre,"and  underneath, 
"  Frapp*}  a  Londres  "  (Struck  in  London).  This  remark- 
able bit  of  coinage  is  said  to  be  still  preserved  in  the  Paris 
Mint. 


AN  INDEPENDENT  BARBER. 

HERE  is  an  entertaining  story  about  a  Frenchman  who 
was  too  proud  to  do  things  which  were  against  his  princi- 
ples. The  story  is  vouched  for  as  an  actual  fact  by  the 
man  to  whom  the  incident  happened.  While  travelling  in 
Europe  he  stopped  overnight  at  Caen,  and  noting  that  his 
hair  was  unduly  long  he  went  to  have  it  cut  by  the  local 
barber.  He  told  the  barber  to  take  off  very  little,  but  be- 
fore the  scissors  had  been  at  work  many  seconds  he  noticed 
a  favorite  lock  fall  on  to  the  calico  jacket  in  which  he  had 
been  arrayed.  Whereupon  he  reproved  the  barber  for  not 
following  bis  instructions,  upon  which  the  man  observed, 
in  mingled  tones  of  reproach  and  dismay, 

"Monsieur  must  permit  me -to  do  my  work  in  the  way 
which  seems  best  to  rue ;  and  what  is  more,  I  shall  take  off 
some  more." 

"  Not  at  all," said  the  traveller;  "I  tell  you  I  want  very 
little  taken  off,  and  must  insist  upon  your  doing  as  I  direct 
you." 

The  barber,  however,  was  not  to  be  put  down  in  this  way, 
and  said.  ••  Monsieur,  it  is  possible  that  this  is  how  things 
may  be  done  in  England,  but  here  in  France  we  are  not 
slaves.  I  shall  cut  off  as  much  as  I  please." 


496 


HARPEKS 


ROUND  TABLE 


]    X 


Copyright,  1895,  by  H» 


:s.     AH  Rights  Reserved. 


PUBLISHED    WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI. — NO.  Sir. 


NEW  YORK.  TUESDAY.  MAY  U.   1S'.)5. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO    nnl.T.AItS    A     YKAR. 


I 


HEROES     OF     AMERICA. 


THE    FIGHT    .AT    HAMPTON    ROADS. 


BY    THE   HONORABLE  THEODOKE   ROOSEVELT. 


AVAL  battles  of  the  civil  war  have 
an  immense  importance,  because 
they  mark  the  line  of  cleavage  be- 
tween naval  warfare  under  tlie 
old  anil  naval  warfare  under  the 
new  conditions.  From  the  days 
of  the  defeat  of  the  Spanish  Ar- 
mada, for  two  centuries  and  a 
half,  the  fighting  at  sea  was  car- 
ried on  ill  ships  of  substantially 
the  same  character — wooden  sail- 
ing ships,  carrying  many  gnus  mounted  in  broadside. 
Howard,  Drake,  Blake,  Tronip,  De  Euyter,  Nelson,  and  all 
the  other  great  admirals,  and  all  the  famous  single-ship 
fighters — whose  skill  reached  its  highest  expression  in  our 
own  navy  during  the  war  of  1812 — commanded  craft  built 
aud  armed  in  a  substantially  similar  manner,  and  fought 


with  the  same  weapons  and  under  much  the  same  con- 
ditions. 

But  in  the  civil  war  weapons  and  methods  were  intro- 
duced which  caused  a  revolution  greater  even  than  that 
which  divided  the  sailing  ship  from  the  galley.  The  use 
of  steam,  the  casing  of  ships  in  iron  armor,  and  the  em- 
ployment of  the  torpedo,  the  ram,  and  the  gun  of  huge 
calibre,  produced  such  radically  new  types  that  the  old 
ships  of  the  line,  became  at  one  stroke  as  antiquated  as  the 
galleys  of  Hamilcar  or  Alcibiades.  All  of  these  new  en- 
gines of  war  were  for  the  first  time  tried  in  actual  combat, 
and  some  of  them  were  for  the  first  time  invented, during 
our  own  civil  war,  and  the  first  occasion  on  which  any  of 
the  new  methods  were  thoroughly  tested  was  attended  by 
incidents  which  made  it  one  of  the  most  striking  of  naval 
battles. 

In  the  Chesapeake  Bay,  near  Hampton  Roads,  the  I'niled 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


States  lincl  collected  a  fleet  of  wooden  sliips;  some  of  them 
olcl-stvlr  sailing  vessels,  others  Ntenniers.  The  Confed- 
erates were  known  to  lie  building  a  great  iron-clad  rain, 
ami  I  lie  wooden  vessels  were  eagerly  watching  lor  lier  ap- 
pearance when  she  should  eoine  out  of  (iosport  Harbor. 
Her  powers  and  capacity  were  utterly  unknown.  She  was 
made  out  of  the  former  United  Stall's  steam-frigate  Merri- 
IHIII:  ml  down  so  as  to  make  her  fore  and  aft  decks  nearly 
Hat  and  not  much  above  the  water,  while  the  guns  were 
mounted  in  a  covered  central  battery  with  sloping  flanks. 
Her  sides  and  deck  were  coated  with  iron,  and  she  was 
armed  with  formidable  rifle  guns,  and,  most  important  of 
all,  with  a  steel  ram  thrust  out  under  water  forward  from 
her  bow.  She  was  commanded  by  a  very  gallant  and 
efficient  officer,  Captain  Tattnall. 

It  was  March  .",  lHfi-2,  when  the  ram  at  last  made  her 
appearance  within  sight  of  the  Union  licet.  The  day  was 
calm  and  very  clear,  so  that  the  throngs  of  spectators  on 
shore  could  see  every  feature  of  the  battle.  With  the 
great  ram  came  three  light  gunboats,  all  of  which  took 
part  in  the  action, harassing  the  vessels  which  she  assailed  ; 
Imt  they  were  not  factors  of  importance  in  the  fight.  On 
the  Union  side  the  vessels  nearest  were  the  sailing  ships 
t'lniilii'i'tttiiil  and  Congress,  and  the  steam-frigate  Minnesota. 
The  ('ongrt-KK  and  Cnmberlunil  were  anchored  not  far  from 
ea.ch  other;  the  Minnesota  got  aground,  and  was  some  dis- 
tance off.  Owing  to  the  currents  and  shoals  and  the  lack 
of  wind  no  other  vessel  was  able  to  get  up  in  time  to  take 
part  in  the  light. 

As  soon  as  the  great  ram  appeared  out  of  the  harbor  she 
tunned  and  steamed  steadily  toward  the  Conyrens  and  the 
Cumberland,  the  black  smoke  rising  from  her  funnels,  and 
the  great  ripples  running  from  each  side  of  her  iron  prow 
as  she  drove  steadily  through  the  still  waters.  On  board 
of  the  Coniirrxn  and  Cumin -i-luiul  their  was  eager  anticipa- 
tion, but  not  a  particle  of  fear.  The  officers  in  command. 
Captain  Smith  and  Lieutenant  Morris,  were  two  of  the 
most  gallant  men  in  a  service  where  gallantry  has  always 
been  too  common  to  need  special  comment.  The  crews 
were  composed  of  veterans,  well  trained,  self-confident,  and 
proud  beyond  measure  of  the  flag  whose  honor  they  up- 
held. The  guns  were  run  out,  and  the  men  stood  at  quar- 
ters, while  the  officers  eagerly  conned  the  approaching 
ironclad. 

The  Congress  was  the  first  to  open  fire ;  and  as  her  vol- 
leys flew,  the  men  on  the  Cumberland  were  astounded  to 
see  the  cannon-shot  bound  off  the  sloping  sides  of  the  ram 
as  haildrops  bound  from  a  window-pane.  The  rani  an- 
swered, and  her  rifle  shells  tore  the  sides  of  the  Congi-fxx  .• 
but  for  her  first  victim  she  aimed  at  the  Cumberland,  and. 
firing  her  bow  guns,  came  straight  as  an  arrow  at  the  little 
sloop  of  war,  which  lay  broadside  to  her.  It  was  an  abso- 
lutely hopeless  struggle.  The  Cumberland  was  a  sailing 
ship,  at  anchor,  with  wooden  sides,  and  a  battery  of  light 
gnns.  Against  the  formidable  steam  ironclad,  with  her 
heavy  rifles  and  steel  ram,  she  was  as  powerless  as  if  she 
bad  been  a  row-boat;  and  from  the  moment  when  the  men 
saw  the  cannon-shot  bound  from  the  ram's  sloping  sides 
they  knew  they  were  doomed.  But  none  of  them  flinched. 
Once  and  again  they  fired  their  guns  full  against  the  ap- 
proaching rain,  and  in  response  received  a  few  shells  from 
the  great  bow  rifles  of  the  latter.  Then,  forging  ahead, 
tin-  Mi-rrimni-  struck  her  antagonist  with  her  steel  prow, 
and  the  sloop  of  war  reeled  and  shuddered,  and  through 
the  gn-at.  rent  in  her  side  the  black  water  rushed. 

She  foundered  in  a  few  minutes;  but  her  crew  fought 
her  to  the  last,  cheering  as  they  ran  out  the  guns,  and 
sendingshot  aftcrshot  against  the  ram  as  the  latter  backed 
off  after  delivering  the  blow.  The  rush  of  the  water  soon 
swamped  the  lower  decks,  but  the  men  on  the  upper  deck 
cont  inned  to  serve  the  gnns,  and  tired  them  until  t  he  deek 
was  awash,  and  the  vessel  had  not  ten  seconds  of  life  left. 
Then,  with  her  Hags  flying,  her  men  cheering,  and  her  gnns 
firing,  the  I 'iniiln  rlinul  sank.  It  was  shallow  \\hejv  she 
settled  down,  so  that  her  masts  remained  above  the  water. 
The  glorious  Hag  for  which  the  brave  men  aboard  her  had 
died  Hew  proudly  in  the  wind  all  that  day,  while  the  fight 
went  on,  and  throughout  the  iiight;  and  next  morning  it 


was  still  streaming  over  the  beautiful  bay,  to  mark  the 
resting-place  of  as  gallant  a  vessel  afe  ever  sailed  or  fought 
on  the  high-seas. 

After  the  Cumberland  sank,  the  ram  turned  her  attention 
to  the  CongreK*.  Finding  it  difficult  to  get  at  her  in  the 
shoal  water,  she  began  to  knock  her  to  pieces  with  her 
great  rifle  guns.  The  unequal  fight  between  the  ironclad 
and  the  wooden  ship  lasted  for  perhaps  half  an  hour.  By 
that  time  the  commander  of  the  Coni/i-mx  had  been  killed, 
and  her  decks  looked  like  a  slaughter-house.  She  was  ut- 
terly unable  to  make  any  impression  on  her  foe,  and  finally 
she  took  fire  and  blew  up.  The  Minmnotn  was  the  third 
victim  marked  for  destruction,  and  the  Mirrimae  began  the 
attack  upon  her  at  once;  but  it  was  getting  very  late,  and 
as  the  water  was  shoal  and  she  could  not  get  close,  the 
ram  finally  drew  back  to  her  anchorage  to  wait  until  next 
day  before  renewing  and  completing  her  work  of  destruc- 
tion. 

All  that  night  there  was  the  wildest  exultation  among 
the  Confederates,  while  the  gloom  and  panic  of  the  Union 
men  cannot  he  described.  It  was  evident  that  the  United 
States  ships-of-war  were  as  helpless  as  cockle-shells  against 
their  iron-clad  foe.  and  there  was  no  question  that  she  could 
destroy  the  whole  fleet  with  ease  and  with  absolute  im- 
punity. This  meant  not  only  the  breaking  of  the  blockade, 
hut  the  sweeping  away  at  one  blow  of  the.  North's  naval 
supremacy,  which  was  indispensable  to  the  success  of  the 
war  for  the  Union.  It  is  small  wonder  that  during  that 
night  the  wisest  and  bravest  should  have  almost  despaired 
of  the  Union. 

But  in  the  hour  of  the  nation's  greatest  need  a  champion 
suddenly  appeared,  in  time  to  play  the  last  scene  in  this 
great  drama  of  sea  warfare.  The  North,  too,  had  been  try- 
ing its  hand  at  building  ironclads.  The  most  successful  of 
them  was  the  little  Monitor,  a  flat -decked,  low,  turreted 
ironclad,  armed  with  a  couple  of  heavy  gnns.  She  was  the 
first  experiment  of  her  kind,  and  her  absolutely  flat  sur- 
face, nearly  level  with  the  water,  her  revolving  turret,  and 
her  utter  unlikeuess  to  any  pre-existing  naval  type,  had 
made  her  an  object  of  mirth  among  most  practical  seamen  ; 
but  her  inventor,  Ericsson,  never  despaired  of  her.  Under 
the  command  of  a  gallant  naval  officer,  Captain  Worden, 
she,  was  sent  South  from  New  York,  and  though  she  almost 
foundered  in  a  gale  she  managed  to  weather  it.  and  reached 
the  sci- ne  of  the  bat  tie  at  Hampton  Roads  at  the  hour  of  the 
nation's  sorest  need. 

Early  the  follow  ing  morning  the  Mcrrimav  again  steamed 
forth  to  take  up  the  work  she  had  so  well  begun,  and  to  de- 
stroy the  Union  fleet.  She  steered  straight  for  the  J/iniif- 
«otn  :  but  when  she  was  almost  there,  to  her  astonishment  a 
strange-looking  little  craft  advanced  from  the  side  of  the 
big  wooden  frigate  and  boldly  barred  the  Mi  n -'mint's  path. 
For  a  moment  the  Confederates  could  hardly  believe  their 
eyes.  The'  Monitor  was  tiny  compared  to  their  ship,  for 
she  was  not  one-fifth  the  size,  and  her  queer  construction 
and  odd  look  made  them  look  at  their  new  foe  with  con- 
tempt;  but  the  first  shock  of  battle  did  away  with  this 
feeling.  The  Merrimac  turned  on  her  foe  her  rifle  guns,  in- 
tending to  blow  her  out  of  the  water,  but  the  shot  glanced 
from  the  thick  iron  turret  of  the  Monitor.  Then  the  Moni- 
tor's guns  opened  fire,  and  as  the  great  balls  struck  the 
sides  of  the  ram  the  plates  started  and  her  timbers  gave. 
Had  the  Monitor  been  such  a  vessel  as  those  of  her  type 
produced  later  in  the  war  the  ram  would  have  been  sunk 
then  and  there;  but  as  it  was  her  shot  was  not  quite  heavy 
enough  to  pierce  the  iron  walls.  Around  and  around  the 
two  strange  combatants  hovered,  their  guns  bellowing 
without  cessation,  while  the  men  on  the  frigates  and  on 
shore  watched  the  result  with  breathless  interest.  Neither 
the  Mfrrimac  nor  the  Monitor  could  dispose  of  its  antago- 
nist. The  rani's  gnns  could  not  damage  the  turret,  and  the 
Monitor  was  able  to  dexterously  avoid  the  stroke  of  the  for- 
midable prow.  On  the  other  hand,  the  shot  of  the  Monitor 
could  not  penetrate  the  Merrimm-'s  tough  sides.  Accord- 
ingly, fierce  though  the  struggle  was,  and  much  though 
there  was  that  hinged  on  it,  it  was  not  bloody  in  char- 
acter. The  Merrimnc  could  neither  destroy  nor  evade  the 
Monitor.  She  could  not  sink  her  when  she  tried  to.  and 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


when  she  abandoned  her  and  lurned  to  attack  one  of  the 
other  \vooden  vessels  tbe  little  tnrreted  ship  was  thrown 
across  her  path,  so  that  tbe  fight  had  to  be  renewed.  Botb 
sides  grew  thoroughly  exhausted,  and  finally  tbe  battle 
ceased  liy  mutual  consent.  Nothing  more  could  be  done. 
Tbe  rani  was  badly  damaged,  and  there  was  no  help  for  her 
save  to  put  back  to  the  port  whence  she  had  come.  Twice 
afterwards  she  came  out,  but  neither  time  did  she  come 
near  enough  to  the  Mmiitur  to  attack  her,  and  the  latter 
could  not  move  oft'  where  she  would  cease  to  protect  tbe 
wooden  ships.  Tactically  it  was  a  drawn  battle,  neither 
ship  being  able  to  damage  the  other,  and  both  ships  being 
fought  to  a  standstill;  but  the  moral  and  material  effects 
were  wholly  in  favor  of  the  Monitor.  Her  victory  was 
hailed  with  exultant  joy  throughout  the  whole  Union,  and 
exercised  a  correspondingly  depressing  effect  in  the  Cou- 
federacy,  while  every  naval  man  throughout  the  world  who 
possessed  eyes  to  see  saw  that  the  fight  in  Hampton 
Roads  had  inaugurated  a  new  era  in  ocean  warfare,  and 
that  the  J/bniforand  Merrimac,  which  had  waged  so  gallant 
and  so  terrible  a  battle,  were  the  first  ships  of  the  new  era, 
and  that  as  such  their  uames  would  be  forever  famous. 


A  HINT. 

BY  MARGARET  E.  SANGSTER. 

IF  only  you'll  think  of  it.  dearie, 
When  people  are  vexing  and  rude, 
And  be  pleasant  for  two, 
When  one's  scolding  at  you, 

You  will  conquer  the  contrary  mood. 

If  only  you'll  think  of  it,  dearie, 
When  a  certain  troublesome  elf, 

With  pease  in  his  shoes, 

And  a  look  of  the  blues, 

Comes  calling  upon  you  himself — 

If  only  you'll  think  of  it,  dearie, 
And  laugh,  like  the  sun,  in  his  face, 

He  will  scamper  away  ; 

You'll  be  happy  all  day  ; 

And  I'd  like  to  be  in  your  place. 


A  CHINESE   ENTERPRISE. 

WE  are  all  more  or  less  interested  nowadays  in  China 
and  the  Chinese.  They  are  a  curious  people,  and  their 
customs  are  so  different  from  those  of  other  nations  that  to 
us,  who  are  proud  of  being  civilized,  they  sometimes  seem 
quite  ridiculous.  What  civilized  nation  would  provide  a 
regular  home  for  beggars,  for  instance — not  as  a  matter  of 
charity,  for  all  civilized  people  do  that,  but  purely  in  the 
line  of  business?  Yet  the  Chinese  do  this,  if  the  following 
story  told  by  a  German  newspaper  is  true.  According  to 
this  journal,  the  Kleine  Chr(mik,a  joint-stock  company  in 
Peking  erected  some  years  ago  a  large  building  termed  Ki- 
mao-fan,  or  heu-feather-house.  It  is  to  be  used  as  a  uight 
refuge  for  the  begging  population  of  the  Celestial  city.  A 
monster. feather-bed  covers  the  whole  floor  of  one  of  the 
largest  rooms.  Old  and  young,  all  are  admitted  without 
distinction.  Each  settles  down  for  the  night  as  comfort- 
ably as  he  can  in  this  ocean  of  feathers.  At  first  each 
sleeper  received  a  small  blanket,  but  it  was  found,  subse- 
quently, that  these  blankets  very  soon  disappeared,  being, 
probably  appropriated  by  the  servants  of  the  establishment, 
so  an  enormous  common  blanket,  full  of  round  holes  through 
which  the  beggars  at  rest  on  the  feathers  can  thrust  their 
heads  for  air,  was  made,  large  enough  to  cover  the  floor  of 
the  whole  room.  In  the  day-time  this  general  blanket  is 
drawn  up  to  the  ceiling  by  ropes  and  pulleys, and  at  night, 
when  all  the  company  are  in  their  places,  it  isletdo\\n. 
and  then  the  beggars  have  to  look  sharp  to  get  their  heads 
through  one  of  the  holes  lest  they  run  a  good  chance  of 
being  suffocated.  Tbe  same  in  the  morning,  they  must  be 
careful  to  draw  their  heads  out  of  the  hole  at  the  first 
stroke  of  the  tomtom,  when  the  blanket  is  again  lifted  from 
the  huge  nest  lest  they  be  drawn  up  to  the  ceiliug  and 
banged. 


THE   FORGOTTEN   GUNS. 

BY   EARLE  TRACY. 

BASCOM  and  Captain  Lazarets  boy  Narcisse  were  diving 
in ar  the  croaker  bank. 

"  Bet  you  I  can  stay  under  twice  as  long  as  you  can," 
Bascom  said,  as  he  and  Narcisse  balanced  on  the  edge  of  a 
row-boat.  "  Oue — two — three — jump  !" 

There  was  a  sharp  smack  as  both  boys  hit  the  water  at 
the  same  instant,  and  then  the  ripples  gurgled  over  them. 
The  black  head  of  Narcisse  came  up  again  very  scion,  and 
lie  puffed  and  blew.  He  was  a  big, thick-set,  older  boy  than 
Bascom,  but  short-winded  and  inclined  toward  laziness. 
He  bad  time  to  turu  on  his  back  and  catch  his  breath  at 
leisure  before  Bascom  reappeared.  "I  was  study  in'  me 
'bout  goin'  down  a  ft  ah  yon, "he  drawled. 

But  Bascom  ,iid  -lot  answer  until  he  had  rested  a  minute 
with  one  hand  ou  the  gunwale  of  the  boat.  He  was  very 
white.  "I  —  beat — you,"  he  panted  at  last.  "I— tole 
you — I  would."  His  breath  was  coming  back  to  him  in 
big  draughts  that  he  could  scarcely  swallow. 

"Yo'  can  beat  me  a-pullin'  right  now  if  yo'  want  to," 
Narcisse  offered  as  they  climbed  into  the  boat. 

Bascom  was  glad  enough  to  take  the  oars.  He  was 
breathing  again,  and  he  would  rather  do  anything  than 
keep  still.  He  wanted  to  shout  and  clap  his  hands  and 
jump,  but  he  did  not  wish  to  excite  the  curiosity  of  Nar- 
cisse. The  hot  afternoon  sun  poured  generously  over  them 
and  dried  their  bathing-suits  into  e very-day  clothes. 

A  sound  of  hammering  came  from  one  of  the  schooners 
at  anchor  near  the  landing.  "I  hear  Captain  Tony,"  Bas- 
com said.  "  I  reckon  I'll  get  out  here." 

"I  didn't  guess  yo'd  pass  by  de  little  Mystery,"  Nar- 
cisse answered,  with  a  good-natured  grin.  All  Potosi  was 
used  to  Bascom's  devotion  to  the  boat  which  he  and  Cap- 
t:im  Tony  had  won  by  bringing  it  safely  through  the  great 
Gulf  storm  the  year  before.  Narcisse  was  no  sooner  out  of 
sight,  however,  than  Bascom  forgot  even  the  Mystery  in 
the  excitement  it  had  1 n  so  hard  to  suppress. 

"Ciip'n  Tony,"  he  cried,  fairly  stammering  with  eager- 
ness— "  Cap'n  Tony^I — I — found  a  buried  cannon  on  the 
croaker  bank !" 

"  W-w'at  f"  said  Captain  Tony,  wondering. 

"It's  all  crusted  up  with  barnacles,  but  I  know  it's  a 
cannon,"  Bascom  insisted.  "I  felt  all  round  it,  and  inside 
of  it  too." 

Captain  Tony  lifted  his  cap  a  little  and  then  drew  it 
down  over  his  eyes  again  incredulously.  "  I  guess  it  can't 
be  true," he  said  at  last.  "I  have  never  hear  me  'bout 
any  cannon  sunk  in  de  bay,  an'  I  know  all  de  story  of  ole 
time." 

Bascom  was  prancing  up  and  down  in  a  perfect  fever  of 
impatience.  "It  must  have  been  ever  so  long  ago,  the 
pirates  or  the  Spaniards,''  he  said.  "An'  if  there's  a  cannon 
there  must  ha' been  a  ship  sunk  there,  an' if  there  was  a. 
ship  there  must  be  a  treasure,  an'  we're  not  a-goin'  to 
say  nothin'  to  nobody,  but  we're  a-goiu'  to  fish  it  all 
up!" 

Captain  Tony  put  a  hand  on  Bascom's  shoulder  to  keep 
him  from  squirming.  "Yo'boy,"he  said,  with  the  warm- 
hearted indulgence  he  always  felt  for  the  young  waif  \\  ho 
had  become  his  business  partner,  "I  doan  t'ink  me  dar  if 
dere  is  a  cannon  dere  it  will  run  off — not  dis  evenin' ;  an'  fa  w 
de  treasure,  it  was  without  doubt  mo'  easy  to  remove.  Mo.s' 
likely  it  run  away  good  w'ile  ago." 

••  Well,  I'm  goin'  to  look  an'  lie  sure,"  Kascom  said.  "  \Ve 
must  get  the  cannon,  anyways,  and  have  her  ou  the  Mys- 
tery." 

The  Captain  chuckled.  "Us'es '11  raise  sail,"  he  said,  "an1 
jus'  run  out  befo'  de  breeze  dies  down."  They  might  more 
easily  have  rowed,  but  Tony  and  Bascom  seldom  went  any- 
where without  the  Mystery,  except  on  land. 

When  Narcisse  was  rowing  leisurely  toward  his  father's 
point  ou  the  back  bay.  lie  saw  the  litlle  Mi/*t<-ri/  put  mir 
from  shore  and  presently  east  anchor  at  the  croaker  bank, 
and  he  put  two  and  two  together  clumsily. 

"Might 'a'  known  Bascom  wouldn'  drown  hissc'f  lil- 


499 


HAMPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


faw  t'uu,"  he  meditated.  "He  has  suah  fonu'  something." 
lie  rested  on  bis  oars  and  pondered  quite  a  while.  "If 
llasroin  has  t'linn'  somefing,  I  doaii'  see  why  I  didu'  fin'  it 
too.  May  lie  I  did.  My  han'  touched  bottom,  an'  I  recollec' 
I  felt  somct'ing  me.  Bascom  think  lie  sma't  not  to  have 
tell,  lint  I  did  not  tell  either,  me  ;'"  and  suddenly  Narcisse 
set  to  rowing. 

Al'irr  liaseom  dropped  anchor  on  the  croaker  bank,  Cap- 
lain  Tony  poised  himself  and  dived.  Bascom  waited  for  his 
reappearance,  with  hands  clinched.  Tony  did  not  stay 
under  as  long  as  the  boy  had,  but  he  was  almost  as  excited 
as  soon  as  he  came  up. 

"  I  didn'  tin'  'em  at  de  firs',"  he  panted, "  but.  dere  are  two 
at  de  leas'.  I  put  my  han'  on  clem.  It  inns'  have  been  a 
great  ship,  Imt,  I  do  not  know  'bond  her.  It  mils'  be  ver', 
ver'  ole,  de  mos'  ole  of  all." 

"  How  ean  we  get  'em  up  ?"  gasped  Bascom. 

"  Ah,"  said  the  Captain,  "  dat  will  be  de  tronb'.  It  will 
take  a  win'Jass  an'  grappliu'-irous  an'  mo'  men.  It  will  be 
de  question  if  it  pay." 

"Couldn't  ns'es  do  it  by  ourselves?"  Bascom  pleaded. 
His  whole  little  self-dependent  life  had  strengthened  his 
tendency  to  look  out,  for  himself.  The  more  there  were  to 
work  for  the  treasure  the  more  there  would  be  to  share 
it. 

"  No,"  said  the  Captain.  "Tek  a  pile  of  men  to  raise  dose 
cannon." 

"Then,"  put  in  Bascom,  eagerly — "then  le's  ask  Captain 
Lazare"  an'  Narcisse  to  help.  Me  an'  Narcisse  was  here  to- 
gether when  I  found  'em." 

The  Captain  knit  his  brows  and  looked  up  the  bay.  "  I 
guess  elat  a  good  idea,"  he  said.  "Lazare'  prett' sharp,  but 
dey  won't  be  much  chance  faw  anyt'ing  but  straight  wo'k. 
I  see  dey's  a-raisin'  sail  on  de  Alphonsine." 

"I'll  row  across  an'  speak  to  him  when  he  passes,"  said 
Bascom. 

But  there  was  110  need ;  Lazare"'s  schooner  headed  tow- 
ard them  from  the  first.  As  it  came  slowly  about  and  an- 
chored close  to  theirs  Captain  Tony  gave  Bascom  a  swift, 
inquiring  glance,  hut  Bascom  shook  his  head.  Then  he 
shouted  cheerfully, 

"Ho  there!" 

"It  strange  clat  yo'  are  jus'  wheah  we  come,"  Lazare! 
said.  "Did  Bascom  fin'  it  too  ?" 

"  Fiud  what?"  said  Bascom,  on  his  guard. 

"At  de  bottom,  w'en  yo'  was  diviu',"  continued  Lazare', 
coolly.  "  Narcisse  he  fin'  somesing,  an'  I  fought  me  I 
bettah  jus'  to  come  an'  see  w'at  to  do  'bond  it." 

"  Narcisse  didn't  find  nothin',"  Bascom  exclaimed,  hotly. 
"He  didn't  stay  under  a  second.  If  he  thinks  he  found 
auythiu', what  color  was  it, an'  how  did  it  feel?  Was  it 
dead?  All'  where  did  it  come  from?" 

"I  didn'  want  to  drown  myse'f  like  yo',"  Narcisse  au- 
swered.  "I  was  faw  gettin'  home  and  tellin'." 

"No  you  wa'n't,"  cried  Bascom,  fuming.  "You  know  you 
wa'u'ta-stiidyin'  about  iiothin'.  You  didn't  look  like  you'd 
ever  seed  anythin'  in  your  life." 

"De  way  is,"  said  Lazare',  "  dat  de  oue  was  jus'  as  big  a 
fool  as  de  odder.  Dey  both  come  'long  pertendin',  instead 
of  talkin'  it,  ovah  like  men  an'  agreeiu'  to  share  it.  Have 
yo'  been  down  yet,  Tony,  to  see  w'at  yo'  t'ink  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Tony;  "I  been  down.  Us'es  was  sayin', 
Bascom  an'  me,  dat  maybe  yo'-all  like  to  go  in  will  us 
raisin'  dose  cannon."  Bascom  pulled  his  sleeve,  but  he 
went  right  on.  "  Dere  may  be  a  little  money  in  sellin'  'em 
faw  a  show,  au'  den  Bascom  he  say  he  want  oue  on  de 
Mystery." 

Bascom  looked  relieved,  and  Narcisse  disgusted,  but  there 
was  nothing  to  gather  from  Captain  LazariS's  face. 

"Dat  was  w'at  I  fought,"  he  said.  "Dere  ain't  nosing 
go  in'  on,  an'  anysing  we  can  make  is  dat  much  ahead." 

It  was  in  this  .spirit,  that  work  was  begun  the  next  day. 
Not  a  word  was  said  about  the  possibility  of  treasure,  yet 
every  one  knew  that  they  were  treasure-hunting.  In  these 
haunts  of  the  old  pirates  children  were  brought  up  on  le- 
gends of  buried  gold.  But  Bascom  became  perfectly  ab- 
sorbed in  the  guns.  They  could  not  be  accounted  for.  No 
one  in  all  the  country  remembered  seeing  or  hearing  of  the 


wreck  of  a  war-vessel  in  the  bay.  Nothing  like  that  had 
happened  during  the  war ;  the  bay  was  too  shallow  for  any 
modern  ships.  Its  shoals  were  what  had  made  it  so  at- 
tractive to  the  pirates,  but  the  fate  of  all  the  pirate  boats 
was  known,  and  none  had  ever  been  lost  there,  nor  had 
they  ever  sunk  a  victim  inside  the  islands.  Everything 
pointed  to  the  old  discoverers,  the  Spaniards  and  the 
Frenchmen.  Bascom,  who  had  taken  small  interest  in  the 
history  of  that  or  any  other  region,  began  to  cram  his  mind 
eagerlj-  with  everything  in  the  shape  of  legend  or  record  or 
theory  until  the  early  days  of  the  coast  were  at  his  fingers' 
ends. 

The  bay  was  thick  with  boats  to  watch  the  raising  of 
the  first  gun.  It,  had  taken  a  long  time  to  get  the  grap- 
pling-irons fastened.  There  was  not  a  suit  of  diving  ar- 
mor to  be  had,  and  the  men  were  obliged  to  go  down  again 
and  again  before  they  could  pry  the  gun  far  enough  out  of 
its  hard  bed  of  shells  to  be  grasped.  When  at  last  they 
felt  it  yielding  to  the  windlass  there  was  a  big  cheer,  and 
then  a  breathless  pause.  The  gun  came  on  deck  coated 
with  shells  and  almost  choked  with  barnacles  and  rust. 
Bascom  flung  himself  atop  of  it  and  began  to  scrape.  The 
others  crowded  over  him.  But  there  were  no  distinguish- 
ing marks.  What  he  could  disclose  of  the  gun's  surface 
showed  it  to  be  of  some  iilloj1  similar  to  bronze.  It  was 
simply  formed,  and  though  not  like  any  modern  gun,  neither 
Bascom  wit!;,  his  new  knowledge,  nor  any  one  else  who  saw 
it,  could  find  anything  by  which  to  guess  its  age.  Of  all 
the  queer  things  that  from  t4me  to  time  had  made  their  ap- 
pearance in  Pontomoc  Bay  it  was  the  most  mysterious. 

"  You  sho'.ihl  sell  it  to  some  big  museum,"  said  a  New 
Orleans  man  who  had  come  aboard  from  his  row-boat. 

"They'll  have  to  pay  ns'es  our  price  before  they  gets  it," 
Bascom  said;  "things  don't  come  so  cheap  that  have  been 
laid  by  and  saved  so  keerful  for  hundreds  and  hundreds  of 
years." 

"They  are  mo' of  them  clown  there,"  began  Captain  La- 
zar<>,  whose  gray  hair  was  wet  and  clinging  to  his  hard  old 
head  from  diving  to  superintend.  "Le's  not  be  a-wastiu' 
time,  boys." 

"I  would  bring  up  everything  there  is  in  the  way  of 
wreckage,"  added  the.  gentleman  ;  "it  may  help  to  identify 
the  guns." 

But  nothing  that  was  ever  said  or  found  threw  any  light. 
The  fragments  of  worm-eaten  timber  which  they  brought 
up  seemed  to  have  been  rudely  hewn,  and  riveted  with 
wooden  pegs  for  bolts.  It  was  old,  old,  old — and  there  the 
story  ended. 

On  the  clay  that  they  were  raising  the  sixth  gun,  the 
last  they  ever  found,  Bascom  and  Narcisse  went  down  as 
usnal.  Bascom  had  been  under  longer,  and  was  just  about 
to  rise  when  the  hook  under  the  lifted  end  of  the  cannon 
was  repelled  by  something  hard.  He  dug  down,  and  his 
hand  felt  what  was  unmistakably  the  corner  of  a  chest. 
Narcisse  caught  sight  of  the  motion  and  put  his  hand  in 
too,  then  he  sprang  up,  pushing  Baseom  down  with  his  foot 
while  he  rose. 

"I  foun' a  chest!"  he  gasped,  coming  up.  "I  fouu' the 
treasure !" 

"Wheah?  How  big?"  cried  Lazare\  and  they  crowded 
round  the  boy.  But  some  one  noticed  the  blank  water  and 
raised  another  cry, 

"Where's  Bascom?" 

Captain  Tony  drew  oue  deep  breath,  thrust  his  hands 
above  his  head,  and  sprang  into  the  water.  Narcisse  stood 
still  a  moment,  his  eyes  big  with  horror,  then  he  followed 
overboard. 

It  seemed  a  breathless  age  before  the  Captain  reappeared 
and  lifted  Bascom's  limp  head  above  water.  A  dozen  hands 
pulled  them  on  deck  and  fell  to  work  on  Bascom. 

"He'll  come  out,"  prayed  the  Captain  through  his  teeth  ; 
"he  got  to  come  out.  My  boy —  Bascom — 

Narcisse  climbed  up  the  schooner's  side,  but  no  one  no- 
ticed him.  and  he  hung  in  torture  outside  the  group  sur- 
rounding Bascom. 

"He'd  run  his  arm  under  de  end  of  de  cannon  and  de 
grapplin'-hook,"  Captain  Tony  was  saying,  "an' dey  had 
settle  back  onto  him,  an'  he  had  uot  the  strength  lef  to 


500 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


pull  out.  I  doau'  unilerstau'  how- 
it  could  have  settle  on  him  like 
dat :  but  he  will  eoine  out.  He 
got  to  come  out." 

Narcisse,  hearing  all  this, 
sneaked  away  into  the  cabiu. 
He  had  had  no  wish  to  hurt  Bas- 
com  even  when  he  pushed  him 
down  ;  it  was  just  the  temptation 
to  be  ahead  tor  once. 

At  last  there  was  a  step  down 
the  ladder.  Captain  Tony  canio 
and  sank  onto  the  bench  oppo- 
site. He  did  not  see  Narcisse; 
he  was  talking  to  himself,  and  his 
voice  trembled.  "My  little  pa'd- 
nah,"  he  said ;  "  he  was  so  wil' 
'boud  dat  treasure  —  an'  proud 
'boud  dem  ole  cannon.  T'ink  of 
dat  little  chap  weatheriu'  de 
big  sto'm  wid  me.  He  was  the 
stuff— 

Narcisse  reached  over  and 
clutched  timidly  at  the  Captain's 
leg.  "  Ain't  dere  —  no  chance — • 
lef '  t"  be  begged. 

Tony  started,  and  gazed  at  the 
boy  and  tried  to  speak,  but  his 
voice  broke  into  a  sob.  He  reach- 
ed over  and  patted  Narcisse.  "  He 
— he  comiu'  out,"  he  said.  "He 
be  all  right.  I  couldu'  get  long 
widout  him." 

Narcisse  shrank  back  again,  the 
better  part  of  him  ashamed  to  re- 
ceive Tony's  kindness.  A  mo- 
ment later  he  crept  past  and  went 
on  deck.  A  few  of  the  men  still 
hovered  around  Bascoin,  who  lay 
on  the  deck,  very  white,  very  sick, 
very  washed -looking,  but  open- 
eyed  and  breathing.  Most  of 
them,  however,  were  busy  again 
at  the  windlass,  and  were  just 
hauling  np  the  last  gun.  It  had 
to  be  lifted  before  the  treasure 
could  be  gotten  out,  but  no  time 
was  given  to  it  after  it  was  landed 
on  the  deck.  Only  Bascom,  who, 
in  spite  of  his  weakness,  wanted  to 
be  where  he  could  watch  the  rais- 
ing of  the  treasure,  was  brought  and  pillowed  on  it,  an 
old  tarpaulin  being  folded  over  to  keep  him  from  feeling 
the  shells. 

The  chest  had  been  so  deeply  bedded  under  the  gun  that  it 
was  the  hardest  of  all  to  raise  ;  but  at  last  it  began  to  come, 
and  Bascom  struggled  up  from  his  gun  to  watch  it  swing, 
dripping,  to  the  deck.  It  was  wooden,  oblong  in  shape,  and 
very  heavy  ;  the  edges  were  worn  oft"  and  crumbling. 

"If  it  liadn'  been  covered  so  deep  it  wouldn'  have  keep 
so  well  as  it  has,"  said  Captain  Lazare',  waving  the  other 
men  back,  but  trying  not  to  look  eager  or  excited. 

Captain  Tony  bent  over  it  with  him.  "  I  doan'  see  the 
fastenin',"  he  said.  ''  I  guess  we  cut  into  him.  It  will  be 
ver'  easy  at  dis  end."  And  he  began  chipping  where  the 
wood  was  most  decayed. 

It  was  the  only  thing  to  do,  and  yet,  as  the  men  stood 
with  gaping  mouths  waiting  for  the  lid  to  yield,  Baseom 
felt  a  new  ache  at  his  heart  to  see  the  uncouth  relic  dam- 
aged. A  great  chunk  of  it  gave  way,  and  every  one  bent 
forward.  Still  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  but  wood. 
Lazare  caught  the  axe  from  Tony's  hand  and  gave  the  thing 
a  mighty  blow  that  sent  a  dull  rent  through  it.  He  pried  it 
apart  with  the  blade  and  laid  it  open.  He  had  split  in 
two  a  block  of  solid  wood. 

"  It — it  was  one  of  the  old  gun-carriages!"  cried  Bascom, 
and  sank  back  upon  his  austere  pillow. 

Captain  Tony  lifted  his  cap  a  little,  and  then  pulled  it 
down  over  his  eyes  again.  Stooping,  he  measured  the  two 


THE    CAPTAIN    REAPPEARED    AND    LIFTED    BASCOM'S    HEAD    ABOVE    WATER. 


sections  of  wood.  Then,  turning  to  Lazare',  he  asked,  "Is  it 
a  fair  di vide  .'" 

I.a/ar6  covered  his  feelings  with  a  comical  shrug,  but 
Narcisse  and  both  the  crews  looked  whipped  with  disap- 
pointment, and  eyed  the  innocent  old  block  resentful- 
ly. Buscom  motioned  to  have  it  brought  alongside  his 
gun. 

"I  don't  see,"  he  said,  afterward,  "  what  better  an  old 
party  like  that  could  have  done,  coinin'  from  so  far,  than  to 
bring  his  comforts  with  him  instead  of  presents  for  folks 
he  didn't  know." 

Bascom  never  told  what  Narcisse  had  done  to  him  under 
water,  and  the  gun  that  had  had  a  share  in  it  was  used  to 
keeping  its  own  counsel.  It  and  its  comrades  were  left  in 
his  care,  and  when  he  saw  that  they  would  be  awkward 
ballast  on  the  H</steri/,  they  were  piled  together  on  Tony's 
beach  to  wait  a  purchaser.  The  faith  which  Bascom  had 
had  in  them  staid  with  him,  although  public  interest  in 
them  died  out,  and  they  were  forgotten  again.  But  Bas- 
com was  always  working  with  them,  and  polishing  them, 
and  talking  to  them  when  he  had  the  time. 

"  It's  queer  how  you  all  staid  there  so  quiet,  and  waited 
hundreds  an'  hundreds  an'  hundreds  of  years — just  for  me," 
he  said  to  them.  "  I  wisht  I  could  only  lind  out  where  you 
come  from,  and  what  you're  calculatin'  for  me  to  do.  You 
didn't  come  for  nothin',  I  make  sure  of  that.'7 

But  the  guns  with  all  their  sleeping  possibilities  of  voice 
lay  still. 


501 


HARPER'S   ROUNt)   TABLE 


MISS  APPOLINA'S  CHOICE. 

BY  AGNES  LITTLETON. 


part  £•£* 

HE  next  morning;  .it  ten  o'clock  two 
I'righiened  an<l  trembling  maiden* 
presented  themselves  at  the  door 
of  Miss  Hi  -iggs's  house  on  Madison 
Avenue.  It  was  all  out  of  order, 
to  he  sure,  lor  them  to  he  calling 
at  such  an  hour,  for  it  was  the 
time  appointed  for  their  lessons, 
and  yesterday  had  been  a  holiday 
also  on  account  of  the  fair  ;  but 
Miss  Briggs's  word  was  to  a,  cer- 
tain extent  law  in  the  family,  and  governesses  and  masters 
were  asked  to  defer  their  coining. 

The  mothers  of  Millieeiit  and  Peggy  bad  little  idea  as  to 
why  their  cousin  wished  to  see  them,  for  neither  girl  dared 
to  confess  her  atrocious  deed.  In  fact,  Millieeiit  herself 
did  not.  know  of  Peggy's  poem.  Peggy  was  putting  off  the 
evil  moment  as  long  as  possible,  when  she  should  be  forced 
to  give  an  account  of  what  she  had  done. 

She  was  really  very  much  ashamed  of  herself.  She  had 
lain  awake,  half  the  night  thinking  of  what  a  rude,  un- 
ladylike, childish  trick  she  had  been  guilty. 

'•  From  first  to  last  it  has  been  silly,"  she  groaned.  "It 
was  perfectly  hateful  of  me  to  make  Milly  send  her  poetry 
and  turn  her  into  a  laughing-stock,  even  though  no  one 
knows  it  was  she  who  wrote  them,  and  it  was  ridiculous  for 
nie  to  put  that  one  in  about  Cousin  Appolina.  And  it  isn't 
•very  funny,  either.  I  might  have  made  a  better  one  while 
I  was  about  it.  Oh  dear!  oh  dear!  I  wish  I  hadn't  been 
born  a  joker  !  I'll  never  get  to  England  now,  not  for  years 
and  years,  for  papa  declares  he  won't  take  me  himself  until 
I  have  finished  school.  And  when  lie  hears  about  this,  for, 
of  course,  Cousin  Appolina  will  tell  the  whole  family,  what 
will  he  say  !  Oh,  oh  !  Unfortunate  wretch  that  I  am  !" 

Thus  Peggy.  Millieeiit,  in  the  mean  time,  across  the 
street,  Teas  in  a  no  less  unhappy  frame  of  mind. 

"What  can  it  be  ?"  said  she  to  herself.  "  Cousin  Appo- 
lina could  not  have  found  out  then  about  the  slippers,  fen- 
she  seemed  to  be  in  a  very  pleasant  mood  when  she  came 
to  the  poetry-table.  What  in  the  world  made  her  buy  all 
the^ioems  ?  She  must  have  come  upou  one  that  she  liked, 
or  one  that  she  didn't  like,  that  made  her  buy  them  all. 
Probably  that  she  didn't  like,  but  which  one,  I  wonder?" 

But  as  I  havesaid,  they  rang  Miss  Briggs's  door-bell,  punc- 
tual to  the  moment.  James,  the  melancholy  footman,  seem- 
ed even  more  solemn  than  usual  as  he  ushered  them  up  the 
stairs  to  the  door  of  Miss  Briggs's  library. 

"Miss  Kcid  and  Miss  Margaret  Kcid,"  he  announced,  in 
a  sepulchral  voice,  and  withdrew,  leaving  them  to  their 
fate. 

Miss  Briggs  sat  at  her  desk  writing.  She  gave  the  girls 
a  cold  good-morning,  and  motioned  them  to  be  seated.  She 
continued  to  write,  and  hercjnill  pen  travelled  briskly  a<  -i  ">> 
the  page,  scratching  loudly.  Milliceut's  heart  sank.  The 
slippers  were  placed  in  reproachful  prominence  upou  the 
top  of  the  desk.  The  poems  were  not  to  he  seen. 

After  some  minutes'  silence,  broken  only  by  a  deep-drawn 
sigh  from  Milly,  a.  warning  cough  from  Peggy,  and  the 
scratching  of  the  quill.  Miss  Briggs  turned  in  her  chair  and 
faced  them.  She  removed  the  spectacles  which  she  had 
worn  when  writing,  and  raised  her  lorgnette.  The  girls 
thought  that,  no  stern  judge  in  the  days  of  witchcraft  could 
have  appeared  more  formidable.  She  scrutinized  them 
piercingly,  coldly,  judicially.  Then  she  spoke. 

"  I  have  asked  you  to  come  to  me,  young  ladies,  that  some 
small  matters  may  be  cleared  up.  Who  wrote  that  poetry?" 
It  \\  as  not  the  slippers  entirely,  then.  It  was  "  To  a  Pearl 
in  an  Oyster-shell";  and  Peggy  would  goto  England.  Mil- 
licent's  eyes  were  on  the  ground,  the  color  came  and  went 
in  her  checks,  her  head  drooped. 
"  I  did,"  she  faltered. 

".Just  as  I  thought.  No  one  but  yon,  you  silly  scrap  of 
sentiment,  would  be  guilty  of  writing  such  trash.  It  is  now 


consigned  to  its  proper  destination  ;"  and  she  pointed  to  a 
large  scrap-basket  which  the  girls  had  not  before  noticed, 
and  which  was  tilled  to  overflowing  with  the  ill-fated  book- 
lets. "I  have  looked  through  them  all,  and  find  nothing 
but  harmless  trash,  with  one  exception.  As  you  may  sup- 
pose, it  is  this  one;"  and  from  under  some  papers  on  her 
desk  she  drew  another. 

"  I  suppose  it  is  the  sounet  to  '  A  Pearl  in  an  Oyster-shell,' " 
gasped  Milliceut.  "I  am  sorry,  Cousin  Appolina,  that  it 
went  ill.  I — 

"Pearl  in  an  oyster-shell?  Nonsense!  What  do  I  care 
about  pearls  in  oyster -shells?  Do  not  try  any  of  those, 
evasions  with  me;  they  are  of  no  use.  I  am  shocked,  pain- 
ed, astonished  that  one  of  my  own  kith  and  kin,  the  daugh- 
ter of  my  cousin  Van  Aspiuwall  Reid,  should  have  been 
guilty  of  such — such — well,  words  fail  me  ! — such  gross  im- 
pertinence!" 

Millicent  forgot  her  misery,  and  stared  at  Miss  Briggs  in 
astonishment.  "I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  Cousin  Ap- 
polina. unless  it  is  the  slippers." 

"  Slippers !  Yes,  you  may  well  allude  to  the  slippers,  but 
the  next  time  you  semi  my  gifts  to  be  sold  pray  be  more 
careful.  I  drew  one  of  them  on  my  foot  this  morning  and 
felt  the  crunch  of  paper  in  the  toe.  I  examined  the  paper, 
and  found  it  to  be  this." 

Miss  Appolina  rose  and  held  a  small  white  card  toward 
Millicent.  This  is  what  was  written  upon  it: 

"For  Millicent,  with  love  and  good  wishes  for  a  Merry 
Christmas  and  Happy  New  Year,  from  her  cousiu,  Appolina 
Briggs." 

''  I  notice  that,  the  check  which  I  sent  with  the  slippers 
was  carefnlbf  removed.  That  did  not  go  to  the  fair,"  added 
Miss  Briggs,  grimly,  as  she  again  seated  herself. 

Millicent  burst  into  tears.  All  this  time  Peggy's  mind 
was  busy.  A  terrible  temptation  stared  her  in  the  face. 
No  one  seemed  to  suspect  her  of  having  written  the  lines 
about  her  cousin  ;  if  she  did  not  confess  it,  who  would 
know  it? 

After  all,  it  would  do  no  further  harm  to  Milliceut's  pros- 
pects if  Cousiu  Appolina  continued  to  think  that  she  wrote 
them,  for  she  would  not  be  chosen  to  go  to  England  now 
under  any  circumstances  on  account  of  the  slippers. 

Should  Peggy  remain  quiet  and  let  it  pass?  Not  a  crea- 
ture but  herself  knew  what  she  had  done,  aud  it  would  be 
easy  enough  to  continue  to  hide  it. 

"Cousin  Appolina,"  said  Millicent,  finding  her  voice  at 
last,  "  I  am  so  sorry!  You  see,  I  hadn't  worn  the  slippers, 
for  the  ones  you  gave  me  before  are  still  as  good  as  new, 
and  I  had  nothing  to  send  to  the  fair,  for  I  don't  do  any 
fancy-work,  and  1  thought — perhaps — you  wouldn't  mind. 
1  didn't  notice  the  paper." 

"Evidently  not;  but  what  if  the  shoes  had  fallen  into 
other  hands  than  mine  ?  What  if —  But  all  this  amounts  to 
nothing  compared  with  your  positive  outrageousness  in 
writing  those  lines  about  me  and  sending  them  to  be  sold." 

"Cousin  Appoliua,  what  do  you  mean?"  cried  Millicent. 
"I  didn't  mean  you." 

"  Mean  me  .'"  repeated  Miss  Briggs,  iu  wrath.  "  To  whom, 
then,  were  you  referring?  Is  there  mint/it r  Miss  Appo- 
lina  B.  ?" 

"I  can't  imagine  what  you  are  talking  about,  honestly, 
Cousiu  Appolina, but  I  really  did  not  mean  that  you  were 
the  pearl  in  the  oyster-shell.  I  wrote  it  about  some  cue 
else." 

"Pearl  in  the  oyster -shell!  Do  not  dare  to  mention 
that  pearl  or  that  oyster-shell  again.  I  am  tired  of  hearing 
of  them  both.  And  do  not  pretend  that  you  do  not  under- 
stand me,  Millicent.  You  are  not  so  stupid  as  all  that, 
though  I  must  say  yon  were  extraordinarily  dull  of  com- 
prehension when  yon  sent  those  verses  to  the  fair,  and  it 
was  astonishingly  like  you  to  do  it,  too.  No,  this  is  what  I 
am  referring  to.  Now,  what  have  you  to  say  for  your- 
self?" 

she  thrust  the  unlucky  booklet  at  her  cousin,  aud  began 
to  walk  the  floor. 

Millicent  read  the  verses: 


502 


HARPER'S  ROUND   TABLE 


"Who  is  a  dame  of  high  degree? 
Who's  always  scolded  little  me? 
Who  is  a  sight  strange  for  to  see? 

Miss  Appolina  B. 

"Who  cannot  with  her  friends  agree? 
Who  loves  to  feed  on  cakes  and  tea  ? 
Who  prides  herself  on  her  pedigree? 

Miss  Appolina  B. 

"*Who'll  soon  set  sail  across  the  sea? 
Who  will  not  take  her" cousins  three? 
Who  K  an  ancient,  awful  sin-? 

Miss  Appolina  B. 


"  Who  else  would  have  written  that  about  the  '  cousius 
three  »'  thundered  Miss  Briggs,  as  she  walked.  "  Ami,  be- 
sides, you  have  already  confessed  that  you  are  the  author 
of  the  rhymes.  What  more  is  needed  f  As  for  my  pedi- 
gree is  there  a  better  one  in  all  New  York  ?  I  may  be  an- 
cient and  I  may  be  awful,  but  at  least  I  am  aristocratic. 
Cakes  and  tea  forsooth !  You  have  had  the  last  cakes  and 
tea  you  will  ever  have  in  my  house.  Margaret  "—suddenly 
stopping  in  front  of  Peggy--  Margaret,  I  have  decided  that 
you  shall  be  the  one  to  go  abroad  with  me.  I  have  made  up 
my  mind  to  that,  now  that  MiMi.-cnt  has  confessed  that  she 
wrote  the  poetry.  Yesterday  I  was  in  doubt  as  to  which 
one  of  yon  had  written  it,  so  I  requested  you  both  to  come 
to  me  but  in  the  mean  time  I  have  read  the  other  poems, 
and  even  before  Millicent  acknowledged  it,  I  knew  that 
they  had  emanated  from  no  pen  but  hers!  X-  one  els. 
could  have,  been  capable  of  such  trash.  We  will  sail,  M 
caret,  on  the  1st  of  June." 

"  Still,  Peggy  held  her  peace.  She  would  wait  and  see 
what  Millicent  said.  Millicent,  too,  was  silent,  At  first 
her  astonishment  upon  leading  the  verses  deprived  her 
of  the  power  of  speech.  Who  in  the  world  could  have 
written  them,  and  how  did  they  get  among  her  poems  at  the 
fair?  She  felt  stupefied;  but  slowly  a  glimmering  .. 
truth  dawned  upon  her. 

She  knew  that  the  author  of  the  lines  was  either  her  si 
ter  or  her  cousin. 

It  did  not  seen,  like  Joan  to  do  it,  and  yet  it  was  not 
possible  that  it  could  have  been  Peggy  or  she  would  boldly 
confess  it  now.  It  must  be  Joanna.  Whichever  it  was, 
Millicent  would  not  speak.  The  innocent  had  auffered  tor 
the  "tiilty  before  this.  There  was  no  chance  whatever  ot 
her  being  chosen  for  England  on  account  of  the  slippers 
therefore  she  would  not  spoil  the  prospects 
others.  She  could  suffer  for  two  offences  as  easily  as  t 

°"she  rose,  placed  the  verses  upon  Miss  Briggs's  desk,  and 
stood  before  her  relative. 

"  I  am  very  sorr\ ,"  she  said ;  "  I  did  not  know  those  N  erses 
were  there.  I— I— apologize  with  all  my  heart.  May  I  go 
now  ?" 

"Yes,  you  may  go,  and  do  not  come  to  the  1 
until  you  at  least  appear  to  be  more  ashamed  of  your  con- 
duct '  You  are  absolutely  unrepentant,  1  see.     Go! 
garet,  my  dear,  I  should  be  glad  to  have  you  staj  and 
over  our  trip." 

Millicent  left  the  house  feeling  as  if  she  were  walk 
a  dream.    What  could  it  all  mean  ?     Of  course  it  was  Joan. 
What  a  strange  thing  for  the  child  to  do !     And  how  clev- 
erly she  had  hidden  it! 

When  she  was  told  of  the  transaction  at  the  fair,  oi  now 
Cousin  Appolina  had  bought  all  the  poems,  she  had  oul; 
lauo-hed  and  thought  it  a  good  joke,  and  was  gla.l  that 
Millicent's  poetry  was  appreciated.     And  she  went  off 
school  that  'morning  as  light-heartedly  as  possible, 
last  words  had  been  : 

"I  hope  yon  will  get  through  all  right  with  Consu 
polina.Milly  darling,  and  I  /(«/><•  she  hasn't  found  out  about 
the  slippers,  and  that  you  will  be  the  one  to  g 

""And  yet  it  must  have  been  Joan,  for  Peggy  would  cer- 
tainly have  confessed  had  it  been  she. 

Millicent  walked  slowly  homeward.    The  French  teacher 
was  awaiting  her,  and  her  singing  master  was  to  come 


rectly  afterward,  but  her  lessons  did  not  receive  very  close 
attention  that  day. 

In  the  mean  time  Peggy  was  left  with  her  cousin. 

••  [  am  astonished  at  Millirent,"  said  Miss  Briggs,  as  the 
door  closed.  "  I  always  suspected  that  she  was  silly,  but  I 
never  supposed  she  could  be  impertine,ut.  I  shall  not  men- 
tion it  in  the  family,  Margaret,  and  I  shall  be  obliged  to 
yon  if  you  will  not  either.  I  would  not  for  the  world  have 
either  her  father  or  yours  know  what — what  she  has  said 
about  me." 

Still,  Peggy  was  strangely  silent.  She  was  glad  that  it 
was  not  to  be  told.  She  had  less  compunction  about  not 
confessing  if  the  family  were  not  to  know  it.  Now  they 
would  merely  think  it  a  whim  of  Cousin  Appolina's  that 
she  was  the  one  chosen  for  the  voyage. 

She  did  not  enter  with  .great  heartiness  into  the  plans 
for  the  summer,  and  Miss  Briggs  soon  dismissed  her. 

"  But  come  in  again  at  rive  o'clock  and  have  some  '  cakes 
and  tea,'  "  she  said,  with  great  meaning.  "  My  poor  cakes 
and  lea!  Oil,  it  was  outrageous !  I  shall  never  pardon 

Millicent." 

So  Peggy  went  home,  or  rather  to  her  uncle's  house,  lor 
the  o-irls'shared  the  school-room  there.  After  lessons  were 
over"  and  they  were  left  alone  together,  Peggy  broke  the 
silence. 

"Did  you  write  those  lines  to  Cousin  Appolina,  M 
••No;     of    course,    not,    Peggy.       It    must     have     been 
.loan." 

"Do  you  really  think  so  ?" 

-Yes';  and  I  feel  dreadfully  about  it.  Not  so  much  be- 
cause I  will  lose  the  trip,  but  because  she  has  been  so  de- 
ceitful. I  can't  understand  it.  To  think,  too,  of  your  being 
the  one'  to  go,  after  all." 

"But  why  didn't  you  tell  Cousin  Appolma  that  you 
didn't  write  it?" 

"It  wasn't  worth  while.  I  knew  it  must  have  been 
either  you  or  Joan,  and  I  thought  if  you  did  it  you  would 
sav  so.  If  Joan  did  it-well,  Peggy,  I  didn't  want  to. 
feel  dreadfully  about  Joan's  having  done  it.  I  shall  talk 
to  the  child,  and—  But  I  can't  bear  to  think  she  did  it,  and 
I  would  rather  have  Cousin  Appolina  think  it  was  I  than 
little  Joan." 

"You  are  very  generous,"  said  Peggy. 

"No,  I  am  not.  I  shouldn't  be  the  one  to  g..,  anyhow. 
Of  course  the  whole  thing  is  terribly  dishonorable,  but  . 
must  save  Joan." 

Peggy  said  nothing  for  a  long  time,  ^iheu  she  asked, 
"What  time  does  Joan  get  home  to-day  .'" 

••  Not  until  late,  for  she  is  going  to  lunch  with  one  o 
<rirls.  and  then  to  the  Dog  Show  with  her." 
'   ••  Well    I  must  go  home.     I'll  see  yon  again  before  the 
dav    is    o'ver."      And    Peggy   departed    to    her    own    house. 
"  What  a  "'cod  girl  Millicent  is,"  she   thought. 
HiK'hed  at  her  and  made  endless  fun  of  her  for  her  pobtry- 
making,  I   have  thought  she  was  stupid  over  her  lessons, 
and  not  half  as  bright  or  as  much  to  be  admired  as  myself, 
•uid  here  she  is  ten  times  more  generous,  ten   times  more 
honorable,  ten  times  better  than  I  am  in  every  way. 
a  wretch,  a  conceited,  deceitful,  mean,  stuck-up,  and  every - 
tbiu"  else  that  is  horrible  wretch.      But    1  don  t   want  to 
give  up  and  tell  Cousin  Appolina  that  I  did  r 
'    -U  twenty  minutes  of  five  that  afternoon   Peggy  again 
appeared  in  MiUicent's  room.     An  odor  of  smoke  fill.  .1  i 
air, and  Milly  seemed  to  be  wrestling  with  the  tongs 
some  burning  paper  at  the  fireplace. 

"What  are  you  doing?"  asked  Peggy,  much  surprised. 
"Building  a  tire  this  warm  day  ?" 

"I-I-lam  burning  my-my  poetry,"  replied  Millioe   t, 
stm-Hug  with  her  tears  as  well  as  with  the  tongs, 
am  ne^ver  going  to  write  another  line.      Ever,  one  laughed 
so  that  I  don't  believe,  there  is  much  real  ,,o,r.v  ." 
I   am   never,  never  going  to  write   again.      ^  hat,  , 
smell  that  m-moroeeo  c-cover  makes  ' 

Peggy  would  have  laughed  had  she  been  in  a  happier 
fra.nctf  mind.     As  it  was.  she  said,  solemnly:  "  Open    he, 
window    and   leave   the    room    to   air  oft.  Mill, 
von  to   come   out  with   me.     I  am  going  to  Cousin  Appo- 
iina's.'' 


503 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


MISS    APPOLINA'S    CHOICE. 

"  But  I  can't  go  there,  Peggy.  You  know  she  told  me 
not  to  come  again." 

"You  must,  Milly.  You  really  must.  I  will  be  respon- 
sible for  it.  I  can't  go  alone.  You  miixt  go  with  inc." 

Finally  Milliceut  put  on  her  hat,  and  for  the  second  time 
that  day  the  two  set  forth  lor  their  cousin's  house. 

Miss  Briggs  was  in  lier  drawing-room.  The  tea  tray  had 
just  been  placed  before  her,  the  celebrated  cakes  reposed 
in  the  old  silver  cuke  basket  conveniently  at  hand,  the 
man  had  left  the  room,  when  again  the  Misses  Eeid  were 
announced. 

Miss  Briggs  looked  up  and  raised  her  lorgnette. 

"You  have  made  a  mistake,"  she  said.  "I  am  not  at 
home  to  Millicent." 

"  Yes,  you  are,  Cousin  Appolina!"  cried  Peggy,  rushing 
forward  and  causing  a  bronze  Hermes  to  totter  as  she 
brushed  past  it — "  yes,  you  are  more  at  home  to  Milly  than 
you  are  to  me.  For  she  didn't  write  them,  Cousin  Appo- 
lina. She  didn't  write  the  lines  about  you.  I  have  brought 
her  with  me  to  hear  me  confess.  She  is  as  innocent  as — 
as  that  piece  of  statuary.  I  wrote  the  verses,  /did  !" 

For  a  moment  there  was  an  alarming  silence,  but  Peggy, 
having  once  begun  her  confession,  courageously  continued. 

"I  did  it  to  frighten  Milly.  I  put  it  in  the  box,  but 
'way  underneath,  for  her  to  see  when  the  poems  came  home. 
I  thought  it  would  be  such  fun  to  watch  her  when  she 
read  it,  and  found  it  had  been  to  the  fair  with  the  others. 
Of  course  it  was  just  my  luck  to  have  you  find  it,  but  it 
was  a  silly,  foolish  thing  to  do,  just  as  it  was  perfectly 
horrid  of  me  to  make  Milly  send  her  own  verses  to  the  fair. 
That  was  my  fault,  too.  I  urged  her  to  do  it  just  to  get 
some  fun  out  of  it,  and  1  didn't  get  a  bit. 


"Then  this  morning, 
when  you  thought  Milly 
had  written  them  all,  and 
she  didn't  say  anything,  I 
thought  I  would  let  it  pass, 
for  I  wanted  dreadfully  to 
go  to  England,  and  I  knew 
that  her  chances  were  over 
on  account  of  the  slippers. 
Well,  I  was  rirnf  about  it  for 
an  hour  or  so,  and  then  I 
found  how  generous  Milly 
was  to  say  nothing,  and  she 
thought  Joan  had  done  it, 
and  was  going  to  scold  her, 
and —  Oh, well, Idon't  think 
it  pays  to  deceive !  I  never 
was  so  unhappy  in  my  life 
as  I  have  been  to-day.  Mil- 
ly, yon  dear  old  soul,  say  you 
forgive  me!" 

During  this  long  speech 
Millicent  had  time  to  think 
the  matter  over.  Her  chief 
feeling  was  one  of  thankful- 
ness that  it  was  not  Joanna 
who  had  done  this  thing. 
And  Millicent  had  a  sweet 
nature  and  never  harbored 
anger  very  long. 

Of  course  it  was  a  dread- 
ful thing  for  Peggy  to  have 
done,  but  her  cousin  knew 
how  dearly  she  loved  a  joke, 
and  though  it  had  been 
wrong  for  her  to  deceive 
Miss  Briggs  and  herself  this 
morning,  she  had  not  kept 
it  up  long,  and  it  was  easy 
to  see  that  she  was  sorry 
enough  for  it  now. 

So  when  Peggy  asked  her 
1     to    forgive    her,   Milliceut's 
answer  was  a  warm  kiss. 

"And  have  I  nothing  to. 
forgi  ve  ?" 

It  was  Miss  Briggs  who  put  the  question. 
"  Yes,  of  course  you  have,  Cousin  Appolina!  I  am  terri- 
bly sorry  that  I  ever  did  such  a  thing.  It  was  rude,  im- 
pertinent, everything  that  was  bad.  I  hope  you  will  for- 
give me.  Of  course  it  is  all  true,  but  I  needn't  have  said 
it." 

"  True  1" 

"  \Yhy,  yes.  You  know  you  are  a  dame  of  high  degree, 
and  yon  have  always  scolded  me,  ami  in  your  winter  bon- 
net and  big  fur  cape  you  were — er — well,  a  sight  rather 
strange  for  to  see.  And  it  is  perfectly  true  you  are  soon 
going  to  set  sail  across  the  sea  and  you  won't  take  us  all 
t  In  ee.  and  sometimes,  you  know,  Cousin  Appolina.  you  don't 
agree  very  well,  especially  with  me.  And  yon  do  love  cakes 
and  tea,  but  so  do  I,  so  that  isn't  anything.  And  you  say 
yourself  you  pride  yourself  on  your  pedigree." 

"And  no  one  has  a  better  right.  But  there  is  one  line 
that  you  have  left  out.  You  called  me  an  ancient,  airfiil 

sl,r  r' 

Peggy  paused. 

"I  know," she  said, slowly,  "(hat  was  dreadful,  but — but 
ii  is  partly  true.  I  suppose  you  can't  truthfully  call  your- 
self very  young,  Cousin  Appoliua,  and  sometimes  you  can 
be  very  awful." 

Another  pause. 

"  You  may  both  go  home,"  said  Miss  Briggs. 

And  they  went. 

On    the    1st   of  June   Miss  Appolina   Briggs   sailed   for 
England,  accompanied  by  her  maid  and  by  her  young  cous- 
in, Joanna  Reid.     And  Millicent  and  Peggy  stood  on  the 
wharf  and  waved  tlfern  a  sad  farewell. 
THE  END. 


504 


SNOW-SHOES    AND    SLEDGES. 


BY     KIRK     M  U  X  ROE. 


CHAPTER      XXI. 
A    YCKON    MIXING    CAMP. 

THE  supper  provided  by  tlie  hospitable  miners  was  a 
good  one,  and  heartily  did  our  travellers  enjoy  it;  but 
while  they  are  appeasing  the  extraordinary  appetites  that 
they  acquired  somewhere  in  the  AlasUiin  wilderness, let  us 
take  a  look  at  this  most  northern  of  American  mining 
camps. 

To  begin  with,  although  it  is  at  the  junction  of  Forty 
Mile  Creek  and  the  Yukon  Eiver.it  is  not  in  Alaska,  but 
about  twenty  miles  east  of  the  boundary  in  Northwest 
Territory,  which  is  one  of  the  sub-divisions  of  Canada.  The 
most  recent  name  of  this  camp  is  " Mitchell,"  but  all  old 
Yukon  miners  know  it  as  Camp  Forty  Mile.  At  the  time 
of  Phil  Ryder's  visit  it  contained  nearly  two  hundred  log 
cabins,  two  stores,  including  the  one  that  he  established  in 
the  name  of  his  friend,  Gerald  Hainer,  two  saloons,  both  of 
which  were  closed  for  the  season,  and  a  small  cigar  factory. 
Although  the  winter  population  was  only  about  three  hun- 
dred, in  summer-time  it  is  much  larger,  as  many  of  the  min- 
ers come  out  in  the  fall  and  return  before  the  loth  of  June, 
at  which  dale,  according  to  Yukon  mining  law,  every  man 
owning  a  claim  rnnst  be  on  the  ground  or  it  may  be 
"jumped." 

Forty  Mile  is  what  is  known  as  a  placer  camp,  which 
means  that  its  gold  is  found  in  minute  particles  or  "dust" 
in  soft  earth,  from  which  it  can  be  washed  in  sluices  or 
rockers.  Into  one  of  these  a  stream  of  water  is  turned  that 
sweeps  away  all  the  dirt  and  gravel,  allowing  the  heavier 
gold  to  sink  to  the  bottom,  where  it  is  caught  and  held  by 
cross-bars  or  "  riffles." 

Although  gold 
has  been  discover- 
ed at  many  points 
along  the  Yukon 
and  its  branches, 
the  deposit  at  For- 
ty Mile  is  the  rich- 
est yet  worked, 
and  has  paid  as 
high  as  $300  to  a 
man  for  a  single 
day's  labor;  $12,000 
worth  of  gold  was 
cleared  by  one 
miner  in  a  three 
months'  season, and 
a  $500  nugget  has 
been  found;  but 
most  of  the  miners 
are  content  if  they 
can  make  "ounce1 
wages,"  or  sixteen 
dollars  per  day, 
while  the  average 
for  the  camp  is  not 
over  $6  per  day 
during  the  short 
season  of  that  arc- 
tic region. 

Sluices  can  only 
be  worked  during 
three  or  four 
months  of  sum- 
mer-time; then 
come  the  terrible 
eight  or  nine 
months  of  winter 
when  the  mercury 
thinks  nothing  of 
dropping  to  60°  or 
70°  below  zero,  and 
the  whole  world 
seems  made  of  ice. 


Strange  as  it  may  appear,  the  summer  weather  of  this 
region  is  very  hot,  85°  in  the  shade,  and  112"  in  the 
sun  being  frequently  reached  by  the  mercury.  Dur- 
ing the  summer  months,  too.  the  entire  Yukon  Valley  is 
as  terribly  infested  with  mosquitoes  as  is  any  inangro\i> 
swamp  of  the  tropics.  Thus  the  hardy  miner  who  pene- 
trates it  in  his  search  for  gold  is  made  to  suffer  from  one 
cause  or  another  during  every  month  of  the  year. 

In  spite  of  the  summer  heat  the  ground  never  thaws  to 
a  depth  of  more  than  live  or  six  feet,  below  which  it  is  sol- 
idly frozen  beyond  any  point  yet  reached  by  digging.  Un- 
der the  dense  covering  of  muss,  six  to  eighteen  inches  thick, 
by  which  the  greater  part  of  Alaska  is  overspread,  it  does 
not  thaw  more  than  a  few  inches.  Consequently  the  most, 
important  item  of  a  Yukon  miner's  winter  work  is  the  strip- 
ping of  this  moss  from  his  claim  in  order  that  next  sum- 
mer's sun  may  have  a  chance  to  thaw  it  to  working  depth. 

There  were  no  women  nor  children  at  Forty  Mile,  and 
there  were  few  amusements,  hut  there  was  plenty  of  hard 
work  in  both  summer  when  the  sun  hardly  sets  at  all,  and 
in  the  winter  when  he  barely  shows  his  face  above  the 
southern  horizon.  Besides  the  laborious  task  of  moss-strip- 
ping, the  miner  must  saw  out  by  hand  all  lumber  for  sluices 
and  rockers.  He  must  build  his  own  cabin  and  fashion  its 
rude  furniture,  besides  doing  all  of  his  own  house-work 
and  cooking.  He  also  expects  to  do  a  certain  amount  of 
hunting  and  trapping  during  the  winter  months,  so  that 
his  time,  unless  he  be  very  la/.y,  is  fully  occupied.  But  lazy 
men  are  not  apt  to  reach  Forty  Mile,  for  the  journey  from 
Jnnean.m  southern  Alaska,  which  is  the  largest  city  in  the 
Territory,  as  well  as  the  nearest  outfitting  point  for  the 
diggings,  is  so  filled  with  peril  aud  the  roughest  kind  of 


'  WHY,  MATEY/,  DON'T    YOU    REMEMBER    THE    OLD    BRIG 

505 


•  BETSY  r ' 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


hard  work  as  to  deter  any  but  men  of  the  most  determined 
euergy. 

At,  Juueau,  Yukon  travellers  provide  themselves  with  an 
outfit  of  snow-shoes,  sledges,  tents,  fur  clothing,  provisions, 
ami  whatever  else  seems  to  them  necessary.  Starting 
in  the  early  spring  they  proceed  by  boat  to  the  Chilkat 
emintry,  seventy  miles  distant,  and  to  the  head  of  Chilkoot. 
Inlrt.  From  there  they  set  forth  on  a  terrible  mountain 
climb  over  snow  many  feet  in  depth,  where  they  are  in  con- 
stant danger  from  avalanches,  and  cross  the  coast  range  by 
a  pass  that  rises  15000  Icet  abnve  timber  line.  On  the  op- 
posite side  they  strike  the  head- waters  of  the  Yukon,  which 
they  follow  through  a  series  of  six  lakes,  sledging  over  their 
still  ice-bound  waters,  and  rafting  down  their  connecting 
links,  ill  which  are  seething  rapids,  dark  gorges,  and  roaring 
canons,  around  which  all  goods  must  be  carried  on  men's 
backs.  After  some  200  miles  of  these  difficulties  have  been 
passed,  trees  must  be  felled,  lumber  sawed,  cut,  and  boats 
constructed  for  the  remaining  500  miles  of  the  weary  jour- 
ney. 

As  it  would  not  pay  to  transport  freight  by  this  route,  all 
provisions  and  other  supplies  for  the  diggings  are  shipped 
from  San  Francisco  by  sea  to  St.  Michaels,  where  they  are 
tranferred  to  small  river  steamers  like  the  Cliini/i,  and  so 
after  being  many  months  on  the  way,  finally  reach  their 
destination.  By  this  time  their  value  has  become  so  en- 
hanced or  "  enchanted,"  as  the  miners  say,  that  Phil  Ryder 
found  flour  selling  for  $30  per  barrel,  bacon  at  35  cents  per 
pound,  beans  at  25  cents  per  pound,  canned  fruit  at  60  cents 
per  pound,  coarse  flannel  shirts  at  $8  each,  rubber  boots  at 
.$18  per  pair,  and  all  other  goods  at  proportionate  rates. 
Kvi-n  sledge  dogs  such  as  he  had  purchased  at  Auvik  for 
-.">  or  $6  each  were  here  valued  at  $25  apiece. 

In  view  of  these  facts  it  is  no  wonder  that  the  news  of 
another  steamer  on  the  river  bringing  a  saw-mill  to  sup- 
ply them  with  lumber,  machinery  with  which  to  work  the 
fiii/i-ii  lint  gold-laden  earth  of  their  claims,  and  a  large 
stock  of  goods  to  be  sold  at  about  one-half  the  prevailing 
prices,  created  a  very  pleasant  excitement  among  the 
miners  of  that  wide-awake  camp. 

On  the  day  following  his  arrival,  and  after  a  careful  sur- 
vey of  the  situation,  Phil  rented  the  largest  building  in 
the  place,  paying  one  month's  rent  in  advance,  and  giving 
its  owner  an  order  on  Gerald  Hamer  for  the  balance  until 
the  time  of  the  Chlmo's  arrival.  This  building  had  been 
used  as  a  saloon,  aud  was  conveniently  located  close  by 
the  steamboat  lauding  facing  the  river.  Into  it  the  sledge 
party  moved  all  their  belongings,  including  the  seventeen 
wolf-skins,  which  now  formed  rugs  for  their  floor  as  well 
as  coverings  for  several  split-log  benches.  Serge  and  the 
two  Indians  at  once  started  up  the  river  with  the.  sledges 
for  a  supply  of  firewood,  which  was  a  precious  article  in 
Forty  Mile  tit-  that  time,  leaving  Phil  and  Jalap  Coombs  to 
clean  the  new  quarters  and  render  them  habitable;  while 
the  latter,  with  a  sailor's  neat  deftness,  attended  to  this 
work,  Phil  busied  himself  with  a  pot  of  black  paint  and  a 
long  breadth  of  cotton  cloth.  At  this  he  labored  with  such 
diligence  that  in  an  hour's  time  a  huge  sign  appeared 
above  the  entrance  to  the  building  and  stretched  across 
its  entire  front.  On  it,  in  letters  so  large  that  they  could 
be  plainly  read  from  the  river,  was  painted  the  legend, 
"Yukon  Trading  Company,  Gerald  Hamer,  Agent." 

This  promise  of  increased  business  facilities  was  greeted 
by  a  round  of  hearty  cheers  from  a  group  of  miners  who 
had  assembled  to  witness  the  raising  of  the  new  sign,  and 
wheu  Jalap  Coombs  finished  tacking  up  his  end  one  of 
these  stepped  up  to  him  with  a  keen  scrutiny.  Finally 
In-  said,  "  Stranger,  may  I  be  so  bold  as  to  ask  who  was  the 
best  friend  you  ever  had  ?" 

"Sai'tain  you  may,"  replied  the  sailorman,  "seeing  as  I'm 
allers  proud  to  mention  the  name  of  old  Kite  Roberson, 
aud  likewise  claim  him  for  a  friend." 

"I  thought  so!"  cried  the  delighted  miner,  thrusting  out 
a  great  hairy  paw.  "I  thought  I  couldn't  be  mistook  in 
that  figger-head,  and  I  knowed  if  you  was  the  same  old 
Jalap  I  took  ye  to  be  that  Kite  Roberson  wouldn't  be  fur 
off.  Why,  matey,  dou't  you  remember  the  old  brig  Betty .' 
Have  you  clean  forgot  Skiff  Betteus  .'" 


"  Him  that  went  into  the  hold  aud  found  the  fire  aud 
put  it  out.  and  was  drug  up  so  nigh  dead  from  smoke  that 
he  didn't  breathe  nateral  agiu  fur  a  week?  Not  much  I 
hain't  forgot  him,  and  I'm  nigh  about  as  glad  to  see  him  as 
if  he  were  old  Kite  hisself !"  exclaimed  Jalap  Coombs,  in 
joyous  tones.  Then  he  introduced  Mr.  Skit}'  Betten,  ex- 
sailor  aud  now  Yukon  miner,  to  Phil,  aud  pulled  him  into 
the  house,  and  there  was  uo  more  work  to  be  g6t  out  of 
Jalap  Coombs  that  day. 

Phil  had  also  been  recognized.  That  is,  Mr.  Platt  Uiley 
had  asked  him  if  lie  were  the  son  of  his  father,  aud  wheu 
Phil  admitted  the  relationship,  told  him  that  he  had  a  fa- 
ther to  be  proud  of  every  minute  of  bis  life.  Didn't  he 
know  ?  for  hadn't  he,  Platt  Kiley,  worked  side  by  side  with 
Mr.  John  Ryder  prospecting  in  South  Africa,  where  every 
ounce  of  grit  that  a  white  man  had  in  him  was  bound  to 
show  itself?  "To  be  certain  he  had,  aud  now  he  was 
proud  to  shake  the  hand  of  John  Ryder's  son,  aud  if  there 
was  anything  Jolm  Ryder's  son  wanted  iu  that  camp  why 
he,  Platt  Riley,  was  the  man  to  get  it  for  him." 

So  our  sledge  travellers  found  that  even  in  that  remote 
mining  camp,  buried  from  the  world  beneath  the  snows  of 
au  arctic  winter,  they  were  among  friends.  This,  coupled 
with  all  that  they  had  undergone  in  reaching  it,  made  it 
seem  to  them  a  very  pleasaut  aud  comfortable  place  in 
which  to  rest  awhile. 

Aud  it  was  necessary  that  they  should  stay  there  for  a 
time.  They  must  cultivate  friendly  business  relations 
with  the  miners  on  Gerald  Hauler's  account,  and  find  out 
what  class  of  goods  were  most  in  demand:  for  never  until 
now  had  Phil  realized  the  responsibility  with  which  he  had 
"been  entrusted.  He  must  prepare  a  full  report  to  send  back 
by  Kurilla  and  Chitsah,  who  could  not  be  tempted  to  ven- 
ture any  further  away  from  their  homes.  The  dogs  must 
be  well  rested  before  they  would  be  fitted  for  the  second 
and  most  difficult  half  of  the  long  journey.  Above  all, 
Phil  felt  that,  as  representative  of  the  Yukon  Trading  Com- 
pany, he  must  be  on  hand  to  meet  the  agents  of  its  old- 
established  rival,  and  defend  his  far-away  friend  from  the 
false  reports- they  were  certain  to  spread  concerning  him. 

He  wondered  why  Goldollar  aud  Strengel  did  not  ap- 
pear, aud  dreaded  to  meet  them;  but  at  the  same  time 
longed  to  have  the  disagreeable  encounter  over  with  as 
quickly  as  possible.  So  many  times  each  day  did  he  gaze 
long  and  fixedly  across  the  broad  white  plain  of  the  Yukon. 
At  length,  011  the  eighth  day  after  their  arrival  at  Forty 
Mile,  his  eye  was  caught  by  some  moving  black  dots  that 
he  felt  certain  must  be  the  expected  sledges. 

CHAPTER     XXI  I. 
THE   NEW  ARRIVAL  AT   FORTY   MILE. 

'  THE  man  known  as  Strengel  was  probably  as  great  a 
rascal  as  could  be  found  in  all  Alaska.  His  sole  object  in 
shipping  aboard  the  steamer  _y«/'4  at  San  Francisco  had 
been  to  make  his  way,  by  fair  means  or  foul,  to  the  Yukon 
gold  fields,  of  which  he  had  gaiued  extravagant  ideas.  On 
the  night  before  the  Xorsk  left  St.  Michaels  he  stole  from 
the  chests  of  several  of  his  shipmates  such  small  sums  of 
money  as  they  contained,  slipped  into  a  canoe,  aud  deserted 
the  ship.  He  remained  iu  hiding  nutii  she  sailed,  aud  then, 
claiming  to  have  been  discharged  at  his  own  request,  offered 
his  services  to  Gerald  Hamer  iu  exchange  for  a  passage  to 
Forty  Mile.  This  proposition  being  accepted,  and  Strengel 
regularly  shipped  as  one  of  the  I'liimo'a  crew, he  made  a 
secret  proposal  to  the  old  company  through  one  of  its 
clerks,  who  happened  to  be  Simon  Goldollar,  to  so  delay  and 
cripple  Gerald  Hauler's  expedition,  that  he  should  be  forced 
to  abandon  it.  In  attempting  to  carry  out  this  programme 
he  was  foiled  by  Phil  Ryder's  quick  wit  aud  prompt  ac- 
tion. 

Making  his  way  back  to  St.  Michaels,  after  Phil  set  him 
ashore  at  the  Pastolik  wood-yard,  Strengel  fell  in  with 
Jalap  Coombs,  aud,  in  company  with  GoldollaT,  so  managed 
the  money  affairs  of  that  unsuspecting  sailor  that  he  was 
unwittingly  made  to  defray  all  their  expenses  to  Forty 
Mile,  though  he  only  expected  to  accompany  them  a  short 
distance  up  the  river.  Strengel's  sole  object  was  still  to 


506 


HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE 


reach  the  gold  fields ;  while  Goldollar  was  intent  on  win- 
ning a  reputation  for  himself  by  forestalling  Gerald  Hamer 
at  Fo^ty  Mile,  and  at  the  same  time  inflicting  what  injury 
he  could  on  Phil  Ryder.  From  the  outset  they  agreed  to 
rid  themselves  of  Jalap  Coombs  at  some  point  so  far  up  the 
river  that  he  must  necessarily  remain  where  they  left  him 
for  the  rest  of  the  winter.  They  learned  at  Nulato  that 
the  (.'hi mo  was  frozen  in  at  Anvik,but  took  care  that  this 
information  should  not  reach  Jalap  Coombs,  whom  they 
soon  afterwards  so  cruelly  deserted. 

As  they  travelled  beyond  tbe  point  where  they  left  him, 
the  well-mated  pair  hail  such  frequent  and  bitter  quarrels, 
that  when  Simon  Goldollar  fell  seriously  ill,  Streugel  did 
not  hesitate  to  rob  him  of  what  money  he  carried  aud  de- 
sert him  at  a  native  village  near  the  abandoned  trading- 
post  of  Fort  Yukon.  Before  doing  this  he  discharged  the 
Indians  who  had  come  with  them  from  Nulato,  and  sent 
them  back,  telling  them  that  he  should  remain  with  his 
sick  friend  until  he  recovered  or  died.  As  soon  as  they 
were  gone  he  engaged  other  natives,  and  set  out  for  the 
diggings  that  had  for  so  long  been  the  goal  of  his  desires. 

He  planned  to  enter  Forty  Mile  under  a  new  name,  and 
as  a  traveller  from  one  of  the  interior  Hudson  Bay  trading- 
posts,  who  was  ignorant  of  the  lower  Yukon,  its  people,  aud 
its  happenings.  He  was  confident  that  Jalap  Coombs 
would  never  appear  to  contradict  him,  and  almost  equally 
certain  that  Simon  Goldollar  would  never  reach  Forty 
Mile.  If  by  a  miracle  he  should  recover  from  his  illness 
he  was  helpless  to  continue  his  journey  before  the  boats 
came  up  in  the  summer,  by  which  time  the  man  who  had 
robbed  and  deserted  him  would  be  lost  to  sight  amid  the 
season's  rush  of  prospectors.  In  the  mean  time  he  had 
plenty  of  money  to  live  on  nntil  he  should  meet  with  an 
opportunity  for  making  a  strike  of  some  kind. 

Thus  it  was  that  on  a  pleasant  day  of  late  January  Mr. 
Strengel  approached  the  mining  camp  of  Forty  Mile,  riding 
comfortably  in  Jalap  Coombs's  own  sledge,  with  a  light 
heart,  and  no  intimation  of  aught  but  an  agreeable  re- 
ception by  its  citizens.  But  in  all  his  carefully  worked  out 
plans  he  had  made  several  miscalculations. 

It  had  never  occurred  to  him  that  there  was  any  other 
route  than  the  one  he  had  followed  by  which  this  point 
might  be  reached  from  the  lower  river.  Nor  did  he  believe 
it  possible  that  any  word  of  Gerald  Hauler's  expedition 
could  have  come  up  the  river  unknown  to  him.  Finally, 
his  gravest  mistake  lay  in  supposing  the  population  of  this 
camp  to  be  of  the  same  lawless  class  as  is  to  be  found  in 
most  Western  mining  camps,  and  believing  that  here  he 
should  meet  only  with  as  great  rascals  as  himself.  In  this 
be  displayed  great  ignorance  of  Forty  Mile,  which  was 
wholly  in  the  hands  of  honorable  old-time  miners,  who  had 
framed  a  simple  set  of  laws  for  the  regulation  of  their 
isolated  little  community  that  they  were  determined  should 
be  respected.  They  had  chosen  one  of  their  own  number 
as  Judge,  and  from  his  decisions  they  allowed  no  appeal. 
They  had  also  elected  a  Marshal,  whom  they  loyally  as- 
sisted in  the  discharge  of  his  duties.  Several  lawless  char- 
acters had  already  been  driven  from  the  camp,  aud  many 
others  warned  not  to  venture  within  its  limits. 

As  Forty  Mile  had  received  warning  of  the  expected 
coming  of  Goldollar  and  Strengel,  and  had  learned  many 
interesting  things  concerning  the  previous  history  of  these 
gentlemen,  their  arrival  was  eagerly  anticipated.  Thus, 
upon  Phil  Ryder's  announcement  that  sledges  were  coming 
up  the  river,  an  expectant  throng  was  quickly  gathered  at 
the  lauding. 

Mr.  Streugel  fired  several  shots  from  his  rifle  as  lie  drew 
near,  and  was  surprised  that  his  salute  was  not  answered 
in  kind.  He  was,  of  course,  gratified  to  observe  the  sensa- 
tion that  his  approach  was  creating,  and  undertook  to 
arouse  some  enthusiasm  among  the  silent  spectators  by 
yelling:  "Hurrah  for  Forty  Mile!  Hurrah  for  the  dig- 
gings !  Hurrah  for  our  side !"  Then,  as  his  sledge  reached 
the  bank,  and  he  sprang  out,  he  cried,  in  tones  meant  to 
convey  hearty  good-fellowship: 

"How  are  you,  boys?  You  bet  I'm  mighty  glad  to  -<•.• 
white  men  again  after  camping  with  a  lot  of  low-lived 
Injuns  for  more  than  two  mouths.  You  see,  I've  just  come 


down  from  Pierre's  House  in  t'he  Porcupine.  My  name's 
Bradwick,  aud — 

Here  the  speaker's  fluent  words  seemed  suddenly  to  fail 
him,  his  face  turned  pale,  and  his  eyes  were  fixed  in  a  be- 
wildered stare.  He  had  caught  sight  of  the  Yukon  Trad- 
ing Company's  sign. 

••  I  la,  ha!"  he  laughed, recovering  himself  with  an  ett'ort. 
"Seeing  the  name  of  an  old  friend  who's  long  since  dead 
kinder  give  me  a  turn.  Hut, as  I  was  saying — " 

'•  Yes,  you  were  just  about  to  tell  us  what  had  become  of 
Goldollar,"  interrupted  Mr.  Platt  Riley,  who  had  received 
word  from  Phil  that  the  new-comer  was  Strengel. 

"Goldollar!"  stammered  the  stranger,  at  the  same  time 
starting  as  though  he  had  been  shot.  "Goldollar!"  he  re- 
peated, reflectively;  "I  don't  know  the  name;  never  heard  it 
before  in  my  life.  I  think  I  mentioned  that  I'd  just  come- 
do wu  from  Pierre's  House  on  the  Porcupine,  aud  hadn't 
seen  a  white  man  since  leaving  there.  There  wasn't  no 
one  of  that  name  at  Pierre's  House  when  I  left.  What  do 
you  mean?  Who  is  Goldollar,  anyhow?" 

"  He's  a  feller  that  we  heard  was  coming  up  from  below 
with  a  dog  train,"  replied  Mr.  Riley,  deliberately,  at  the 
same  time  gazing  full  in  Strengel's  face.  "And  we  didn't 
know  but  what  you  and  him  might  have  met  up  aud  con- 
cluded to  travel  together." 

"How  could  you  hear  of  him?"  inquired  the  new-comer. 
"  I  didn't  know  there  was  any  way  for  news  to  reach  Forty 
Mile  in  the  winter." 

"Oh,  we  might  have  heard  by  mail, or  telegraph,  or  seen 
it  in  the  daily  papers,  or  a  dozen  other  ways.  Anyhow,  \ve 
did  hear  it,  and  that  another  feller  was  along  with  him. 
So  of  course  when  we  saw  you  coming  up  the  river — 

"Yon  didn't  hear  that  the  other  fellow's  name  was  Brad- 
wick,  did  yon  ?"  interrupted  the  stranger. 

"  No,  that  wasn't  the  name.  It  wasn't  so  good  a  name 
as  that." 

"Well,  then,  you  didn't  hear  that  I  was  coming  with 
him  ;  for  Bradwick  is  my  name,  aud  I  don't  know  nothing 
about  any  Goldollars,  though  I  hope  to  find  out  something 
about  them  right  here  in  these  diggings, "replied  Mr.  Stren- 
gel, boldly,  and  with  attempted  jocularity.  "Now,  seeing 
that  I'm  tired,  and  cold,  aud  hungry,"  he  added,  '•  supposing 
we  adjourn  to  some  place  that's  warmer  than  out  here  in 
the  snow,  aud  better  suited  for  making  acquaintances." 

"All  right, "replied  Mr.  Riley.  "We  don't  know  much 
about  Goldollars  ourselves,  but  we'll  try  and  teach  yon  all 
we  do  know,  aud  at  the  same  time  put  you  in  the  way  of 
meeting  acquaintances.  As  you  say.  though,  this  is  a  cold 
place  for  talking,  so  I  suppose  yon  might  as  well  come  up 
to  my  select  family  boarding-house  for  the  night,  seeing  as 
it  ain't  overcrowded  just  at  present.  Then  in  the  morning 
we'll  look  round  for  a  place  that  '11  suit  yon  better." 

So  the  new-comer  walked  away  with  Mr.  Platt  Riley, 
while  the  spectators  of  this  interesting  meeting  chuckled 
and  winked  significantly,  and  remarked: 

"Ain't  the  Judge  a  honey  cooler,  though  ?  He  ain't  the 
kind  that'll  hang  a  man  first  and  try  him  afterwards.  Not 
much  ;  that  ain't  his  style.  Fair  play's  his  motter,  aud  turn, 
the  rascals  out  every  time.'' 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  during  the  interview  just  de- 
scribed Phil,  Serge,  and  Jalap  kept  themselves  out  of  sight. 

All  that  evening  a  constant-  stream  of  visitors  flowed  in 
aud  out  of  Mr.  Platt  Riley's  cabin.  Each  wore  an  expres- 
siou  of  expectancy  and  suppressed  mirth,  and  each  bowed 
gravely  without  trusting  himself  to  speak  when  introduced 
to  Mr.  "Bradwick."  It  was  also  to  be  noticed  that  none 
of  them  shook  hands  with  him;  when  he.  complained  of 
this  to  his  host  he  was  gravely  informed  that  hand-shaking 
was  not  one  of  the  customs  of  the  camp. 

On  the  whole,  his  impressions  of  ( 'amp  Forty  Mile  were 
so  unpleasant,  that  he  fully  determined  to  get  his  dog 
teams  in  motion  the  very  next  day,  and  push  on  further  up 
the  river.  It  was  only  upon  the  urgent  request  of  Mr. 
Platt  Riley  that  lie  consented  to  delay  his  departure  long 
enough  to  attend  a  public  meeting  of  the  greatest  interest 
to  all  Yukon  miners,  that  was  to  be  held  first  thing  in  the 
morning. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


507 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


RABBITS. 

THEIR   CARE,  AND    HOW    TO    BFILD    THEIR    HOUSES. 
BY  E.  CHASE. 

TIME  lii-st  rabbit  I  had  I  put  in  :i  wooden  box.  Not  know- 
ing anything  about  his  habits.  I  nailed  laths  over  the 
front  to  keep  liini  in.  Tin-  next  morning  I  was  very  much 
surprised  to  tiud  that  bunny  had  gnawed  his  way  out.  and 
was  busily  engaged  in  eating  up  my  last  rose-bush. 

The  next  lionse  I  built  for  him  was  against  the  back-yard 
fence.  In  front  of  the  house  I  tacked  wire  netting,  and  in 
addition  made  a  yard  for  him  in  which  to  run  about, taking 
good  care  to  cover  over  the  top,  so  "  brer  rabbit"  could  not 
escape  by  jumping  out.  I  thought  I  had  him  secure  this 
time,  but  when  I  was  at  school  he  burrowed  out  under  the 
fence,  and  ate  up  all  the  neighbors'  flowers.  My  first  week's 
experience  was  certainly  very  trying  on  my  pocket-book. 

Rabbits  make  very  interesting  pets  if  one  knows  how  to 
take  care  of  them.  The  house  shown  in  the  accompanying 
diagram  proved  to  be  a  very  serviceable  one.  It  is  divided 
into  two  "  rooms,"  and  has  a  small  run  attached.  The  floor 
of  the  house  should  be  provided  with-  sliding  pans,  which 
will  make  clearing  an  easy  matter.  Ill  order  to  keep  all 
dampness  from  the  house  it  is  necessary  to  raise  it  a  few 
inches  from  the  ground.  In  winter — that  is,  in  very  severe 
weather — it  would  be  best  to  carry  this  house  iu-doors.  In 


ea-LC      3    FEET 

DIAGRAM 


OF    THE    HOUSE    AND    YARD. 


order  to  keep  the  rabbits  from  burrowing  out,  it  is  necessary 
to  drive  down  stakes,  about  two  feet  long,  close  together,all 
around  the  yard.  A  box  sunk  in  the  earth  at  the  further 
end  of  the  yard,  with  an  opening  so  that  bunny  can  go  in 
and  out,  is  a  luxury  that  lie  will  greatly  appreciate. 

For  feeding  rabbits,  give  them  oats,  corn,  all  kinds  of 
greeus,  carrots,  raw  sweet-potatoes,  tea-leaves  (after  they 
come  from  the  teapot),  and  milk.  I  have  heard  it  said  that 
rabbits  do  not  drink,  but  this  is  a  mistake,  as  I  have  had 
over  sixty  rabbits  at  a  time,  and  never  knew  of  one  that 

did  not  drink. 

It  is  considered  best 
to  keep  the  buck  away 
from  the  doe  until  the 
young  are  a  month  old,  as 
he  is  apt  to  trample  them. 
The  number  of  young  varies 
from  four  to  eight.  They  are 
born  without  fur,  and  their 
eyes  are  shut.  It  usually 
takes  ten  days  for  them  to 
open  their  eyes  and  get  their 
coats.  The  first  little  fellow 
who  ventures  from  the  nest 
is  regarded  to  be  the  smart- 
est one  of  the  litter. 

I  have  only  been  able  to 
discover  three  species  of 
rabbits  —  the  Angora,  with 
long  silky  hair;  the  lop- 
eared,  with  very  long  ears 
which  drag  on  the  ground  ; 
and  the  common  rabbit, 
with  which  most  of  us  are 
familiar. 

Rabbits  are  very  good 
barometers  in  their  way. 
Before  a  storm  they  will  be- 
come unusually  frisky.  Al- 
though the  sky  may  be 
clear,  if  you  see  your  pets 
kicking  up  their  long  hind- 
legs  yon  may  make  up  your 
mind  there  will  be  a  shower 
within  a  few  hours. 

A  noted  French  scientist 
recently  experimented  with 
the  different  small  animals 
as  to  which  could  stand  the 
greatest  amount  of  cold. 
He  decided  -that  the  rabbit 
could,  for  he  locked  one  up 
overnight  iu  a  cake  of  ice, 
and  the  next  morning  the 
rabbit  hopped  out,  feeling 
very  well,  and  with  a  tre- 
mendous appetite.  In  spite 
of  this  notable  gentleman's 
discovery,  I  have  had  three 
valuable  rabbits  frozen  stiff 
during  a  siege  of  cold  wea- 


LOP-EARED    RABBITS    AT    HOME. 

508 


ther. 


IN    COLUMN    OF    COMPAMKS. 


THE    MAJOR 


THE    MAJOR    AND    HIS    OFFICERS. 


THE  DRUMMER. 


"RIGHT  FORWARD,  FOURS  RIGHT!" 


KNICKERBOCKER    GRAYS. 

BY   ANNE   HELME. 
"IN   TIME    OF   PEACE   PREPARE    FOR   WAR." 


iTIHE  clear  tones  of  the  bugle  sound  through  the  big  ar- 
-L  senal,  and  there  is  a  rush  of  small  gray-clad  boys  car- 
rying gnus  to  their  proper  places.  Again  it  sounds  attention  ! 
Assemble !  And  a  long  line  is  formed  of  apparently  motion- 
less statues.  Then  comes  the  roll-call.  As  in  the  regular 
army,  the  First  Sergeant  in  command  calls  out  the  name. 
His  voice  is  not  stentorian,  and  neither  are  the  answers,  but 
there  is  a  very  effective  military  tone  and  ring  to  them,  and 
answering  every  purpose.  The  orders  are  given  by  the 
different  boys  in  command — First,  Second,  and  Third  Cor- 
poral, First,  Second,  and  Third  Sergeant,  First,  Second,  ami 
Third  Lieutenant,  Sergeant-Major,  Color-Sergeant.  Captain, 
Adjutant,  and  Major. 

To  one  who  is  not  conversant  with  the  manual  of  arms, 
the  commands  given  are  somewhat  bewildering;  but  so 
well  trained  are  the  boys  that  they  answer,  and  some  with 
military  precision,  and  present  arms  and  carry  arms  in  a 
delightful  manner, eminently  military,  not  always  satisfac- 
torily, for  the  small  boys  in  command  have  sometimes  to 
repeat  their  orders,  and  occasionally  Captain  Hoyt,  the  offi- 
cer in  command,  and  also  an  officer  of  the  United  States 
army,  has  to  enforce  the  orders  in  a  more  far-reaching 
voice  and  authoritative  manner. 

The  Knickerbocker  Grays  is  a  private  organization  in- 


tended to  instruct  the  sons  of  New-Yorkers  in  the  knowledge 
of  drilling.  It  is  managed  by  several  ladies,  who  give  their 
personal  supervision  to  it.  The  class 'meets  twice  :i  week 
during  the  winter  season  in  the  arsenal  of  the  Seventy- 
first  Regiment,  at  Thirty-fourth  Street  and  Park  Avenue. 
The  ages  are  limited,  no  boy  under  seven  being  allowed  to 
enter.  The  uniform  is  gray,  with  black  trimming,  and  all 
the  military  rules  as  to  the  number  of  straps,  epaulettes, 
and  accoutrements  are  rigidly  adhered  to.  The  ho\s 
learu  to  march  well,  although  it  is  a  comical  sij;lit  io  >ee 
some  of  the  very  small  boys  carrying  their  muskets  and 
making  superhuman  efforts  to  keep  time.  Perhaps  the  pa- 
thetic note  in  the  picture  adds  the  finishing  touch  in  the 
little  drummer-boy,  who,  clad  in  the  same  uniform,  drums 
with  might  and  main.  He  is  paid  to  drum,  but  there  is  a 
look  of  pride  and  delight  in  his  profession  which  quite  pre- 
vents any  thought  of  pity  at  the  contrast  in  his  lot  to  those 
of  the  boys  of  his  own  age  who  go  into  the  drill  merely  for 
the  sake  of  occupation  and  amusement. 

The  boys  love  Tuesday  and  Friday  afternoons,  and  al 
though  the  stimulus  of  the  medal  given  to  the  one  who 
does  not  miss  a  single  drill  has  something  to  do  with  the 
wonderful  attendance,  still  it  would  be  difficult  to  keep  the 
boys  away  even  without  having  the  prize  to  look  forward 


509 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


to.  To  answer  to  the  name  in  roll-call  is  counted  neces- 
sary, and  many  a  boy  who  Las  been  far  too  sick  to  go  to 
.school  or  study  finds  it  quite  possible  to  be  on  hand  to  an- 
swer to  his  name,  even  if,  after  a  few  inarches  around  the 
armory,  his  legs  do  get  tired  and  he  has  to  be  excused. 

Promotion  i.s  eagerly  looked  forward  to,  and  there  is 
an  immense  amount  of  pleasant  rivalry  over  who  shall 
be  promoted  to  be  Sergeant,  Corporal,  and  the  other  offi- 
cers. The  Color-Sergeant  carries  the  colors  around  with  a 
most  heroic  disregard  to  fatigue,  while  the  four  hoys  who 
make  up  his  body-guard  look  at  him  most  admiringly,  and 
not  in  the  least  enviously.  Hound  ami  round  the  hall  they 
go,  while  the  notes  of  the  drum  rattle  out  the  time  to  keep. 
The  officers  give  their  commands,  and  the  companies  go 
from  right  to  left  as  they  are  bidden.  The  officers  look 
very  stern,  and  the  soldiers  themselves  seem  thoroughly 
impressed  at  the  importance  of  their  duty,  although  the 
boy  nature  will  crop  out  at  times,  and  there  are  occasion- 
ally ebullitions  of  sheer  good  nature  and  animal  spirit 
which  would  hardly  do  in  the  regular  army.  Of  course 
each  boy  intends  fully  to  be  a  soldier,  and  if  a  war  should 
break  out  it  is  to  be  feared  that  a  number  of  young  recruits 
would  insist  upon  being  of  service  to  their  country. 

The  awkward  squad  is  as  amusing  as  all  awkward 
squads  always  are,  but  is  only  to  be  seen  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  winter.  It  is  composed  entirely  of  beginners, 
who  have  to  attain  a  certain  degree  of  efficiency  before 
they  can  be  put  with  the  others.  But  as  the  American  boy 
is  very  imitative,  he  soon  learns,  and  at  the  end  of  the  term 
it  would  be  difficult  for  any  one  to  pick  out  the  boys  who 
had  only  belonged  for  one  winter.  The  Captains  and  Lieu- 
tenants are  line,  manly-looking  fellows,  and  their  plumed 
caps  and  glittering  accoutrements  are  extremely  becoming. 
They  have  a  full  sense  of  the  dignity  of  their  position,  as 
why  should  they  not  have,  when  promoted  from  the  ranks, 
step  by  step,  to  the  proud  office  which  they  now  hold  ?  They 
have  not  bought  their  commissions,  but  have  earned  them 
by  good,  conscientious  work.  The  boy  who  shirks,  fools, 
and  carries  on  has  the  mortification  of  staying  a  private, 
while  his  comrade  goes  steadily  upward.  The  two  officers 
in  charge,  Captain  Hoyt  and  assistant,  have,  the  boys  com- 
plain, regular  lynx  eyes,  and  sometimes  find  out  tri ding- 
acts  that  are  not  compatible  with  military  discipline,  much 
to  the  surprise  of  the  fellows  themselves.  When  a  boy  is 
promoted,  his  promotion  receives  no  end  of  congratulation 
and  applause  from  his  fellow-soldiers,  and  it  is  doubtful  if  a 
prouder  moment  can  come  in  any  man's  life  than  comes 
to  the  boy  wheu  he  is  put  in  command  of  the  Knicker- 
bocker Grays. 

There  is  considerable  emulation  among  the  different 
companies.  The  Grays,  by-the-way,  are  divided  into  four 
companies,  A,  B,  C,  and  D,,  and  each  officer  endeavors  to 
have  his  company  the  best  of  all.  And  woe  bs>  to  the  boy 
who  is  insubordinate.  However,  cases  of  real  insubordina- 
tion are  extremely  rare,  for  the  boys  soon  catch  the  spirit 
of  true  military  life,  and  realize  that  the  commands  given 
must  be  obeyed  at  once  and  without  any  question.  It  is 
contended,  and  with  reason,  that  one  of  the  best  features 
of  the  drill  is  this  very  spirit  of  discipline,  which  every 
mother  kuows  is  one  of  the  most  difficult  things  in  the 
world  to  inculcate  in  boys. 

The  first  movements  of  the  regiment  are  quite  pictu- 
resque. After  the  roll-call  the  First  Sergeant  in  command 
calls  out  "Count  fours!"  in  other  words  dividing  off  four 
boys  at  a  time;  if  they  are  more  than  make  even  fours, 
the  Second  or  Third  Sergeant  takes  the  extra  boys  and 
reports  with  them  to  the  Color-Sergeant,  who  takes  them 
for  his  guard.  "Right  four,  fours  right,"  is  then  called> 
aud  the  boys  take  their  positions.  The  First  Sergeant 
lace-,  about  and  salutes  his  Captain.  When  the  Captain 
lias  returned  his  salute,  the  Sergeant  takes  his  post  two 
paces  behind  the  company.  Now  is  heard  the  tread  of 
feet,  ami  the  Captain  to  whose  company  the  colors  belong 
commands  "  Carry  arms!  Present  arms!"  Then  the  Color- 
Sergeant  aud  the  body-guard  march  in  front  of  the  com- 
pany, and  the  Color-Sergeant  takes  his  place  two  paces  to 
the  left  of  the  Third  Sergeant,  who  is  on  the  left  guard  of 
his  company — and  the  drill  begins. 


PUDDING  II 


This  Department  is  conducted  in  the  interest  of  Girls  anil  Yininir  Women,  snd  the  Editor  will 
be  pleased  to  answer  any  question  on  the  tubject  eo  far  as  possible.  Correspondents  should 
address  Editor. 

DO  I  ever  have  the  bines?  Why,  Lottie,  what  a  ques 
tiou  to  come  from  a  girl  of  sixteen?  Am  I  to  infer 
that  you  do,  at  your  age,  with  the  world  a  blaze  of  beauty, 
and  your  feet  so  light  and  your  heart  so  young  that  yon 
ought  to  go  skipping  instead  of  walking,  if  oul'y  yon  dared 
to  let  the  gladness  of  your  life  overflow. 

But  girlsrfo  have  the  blues,  insists  Gretcheu,  at  my  elbow; 
and  she  adds  that  they  have  reasons  enough  :  that  they  are 
not  always  understood,  that  they  have  fancies  and  thoughts 
which  they  cannot  always  explain,  that,  in  short,  girls  are 
not  always  as  happy  as  they  look. 

GRANTING  that  this  may  be  true  of  some  girls,  what  are 
they  to  do?  As  a  person  not  subject  to  these  disagreeable 
visitations,  I  can  speak  with  the  sort  of  authority  the  doc- 
tor has  when  he  enters  the  room  of  a  patient.  The  doctor 
need  not  have  a  fever  in  order  to  prescribe  for  it.  In  fact, 
he  will  prescribe  more  successfully  if  he  be  well  himself. 
The  blues  make  the  person  suffering  from  their  presence 
extremely  uncomfortable,  and  her  discomfort  in  a  subtle 
way  acts  upon  others,  so  that  nobody  is  quite  cheerful  in 
her  neighborhood.  People  who  are  "  blue  "are  quite  often 
cross  as  well,  aud  are  unable  to  accept  pleasantly  the  ups 
and  downs  of  every  day.  Now,  when  you  think  of  if,  you 
must  admit  that  it  is  a  very  humiliating  experience  to  be 
cross,  for  cross  people  are  'disagreeable,  aud  none  of  us 
wishes  to  be  that. 

THE  best  way  to  get  rid  of  the  blues  is  not  to  own  that 
they  have  you.  Put  on  your  hat  and  go  for  a  walk.  Call 
on  a  friend  and  take  her  the  piece  of  music  you  are  to  try 
together,  or  the  book  you  have  just  finished,  which  you 
would  like  to  lend  her.  Do  something  kind  for  somebody, 
and  stop  thinking  about  yourself.  The  greatest  waste  of 
time  in  this  world,  dears,  is  to  think  too  much  about  one's 
self.  Mrs.  Browning  gives  the  right  idea  in  her  poem,  ••  My 
Kate,"  where  she  says, 

"Tvvas  her  thinking  of  others  made  you  think  of  her." 

DON'T  laugh  at  me,  girls,  when  I  tell  you  that  half  the 
low  spirits  one  hears  of  springs  from  a  very  prosaic  source. 
That  pound  of  chocolates,  that  rich  pudding,  that  piece  of 
frosted  cake,  all  of  them  very  delicious,  but  all  very  indi- 
gestible, are  to  blame,  in  most  instances,  for  a  young  girl's 
depression.  Try  what  Emerson  called  "plain  living  aud 
high  thinking,"  and  see  how  cheery  life  will  become. 

Oxi:  of  my  girls  writes  that  she  had  a  vexatious  little 
problem.  She  has  been  accustomed  to  correspond  freely 
with  one  or  two  friends — boys  of  her  own  age — and  "  people 
tell  her  it  is  wrong."  My  dear  child,  pray  explain  whom 
you  mean  by  "  people,"  and  what  they  have  to  do  with  it  ? 

Of  course  yon  do  not  write  letters  to  any  one  without 
your  mother's  approval,  and  I  suppose  your  mother  reads 
your  letters,  that  you  love  to  share  all  those  yon  receive 
with  her,  aud  that  you  show  her  those  you  write.  If  you 
do  this,  nobody  else  is  concerned.  A  girl  should  write  no 
letters,  and  should  receive  none,  which  she  is  not  only 
willing  but  very  glad  to  show  to  her  mother.  When  she 
has  had  the  great  misfortune  to  lose  her  mother,  then  her 
aunt,  or  her  elder  sister,  or  some  kind  matronly  friend 
should  be  her  confidante.  It  makes  no  difference  to  whom 
she.  writes,  if  only  she  does  it  openly,  and  with  the  sympa- 
thy, advice,  and  loving  approval  of  those  who  are  older  than 
she,  and  able  to  guide  her. 


510 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


OFF   WITH  THE   MERBOY. 

BY  JOHN  KENDEICK  BANGS. 

CHAPTER     IV. 
THK    Bt'RKiU    OF    INFORMATION. 


Y  took  the  reins  in  hand, 
and  the  Merboy  sprang  lightly  out 
of  the  carriage,  and  by  means  of 
his  tail  wiggled  himself  to  where 
the  bureau  stood.  He  opened  the 
top  drawer,  and  from  where  he  sat 
Jimmieboy,  who  was  watching  him 
with  a  great  deal  of  interest, could 
see  that  it  was  divided  up  into  sec- 
tions, in  each  of  which  lay  a  do/en 
or  more  large  envelopes,  each  fat 
with  contents  of  some  kind  or  another.' 

••  I  guess  this  must  be  the  information  I  want  about  your 
lockjaw," said  the  Merboy,  picking  up  an  envelope.  "Yes," 
he  continued,  as  he  took  great  slips  of  paper  out  of  it.  "  It 
is.  This  envelope  tells  how  to  take  spots  outof  carpets.  Ha  ! 
ha!  Listen  to  this:  'To  remove  an  ink  stain  from  the  par- 
lor carpet,  take  a  pair  of  shears  arid  cut  out  the  spotted 
part.'  That's  good  advice.  Here's  another  telling  how  to 
start  a  tire.  It  says:  'First  build  your  fire,  anil  then  procure 
a  match.  Any  kind  of  match  will  do  except  oue  that  has 
already  been  used.  Light  the  match  and  apply  the  burn- 
ing end  to  the  kindling.  If  the  kindling  ignites,  the  fire  is 
started.  If  it  does  not.  light  another  match  and  apply  the 
burning  end  to  the  kindling.  Keep  this  up  until  the  kin- 
dling does  ignite!'" 

As  the  Merboy  finished  reading  this  a  great  commotion 
was  heard  in  tbe  water  directly  overhead,  and  looking  up 
Jimmii-biiy  saw  a  huge  whale  rushing  headlong  down  tow- 
ard him.  At  first  he  was  a  little  frightened,  but  as  the 
whale  drew  nearer  and  smiled  pleasantly  at  him  his  fear 
for  some  reason  or  another  disappeared  entirely. 

"  Hullo,  Merby,"  said  the  Whale.    "  What  are  you  doing.'" 
"I'm  after  information,"  returned  the   Merboy,  shaking 
the  extended  llipper  of  the  Whale. 

"So  am  I," returned  the  Whale.     "I'm  in  great  trouble." 
"  Indeed  ?"  said  the  Merboy.      "  What's  the  matter  .'" 
"  I  got  into  a  fight  with  some  whalers  in  the  Arctic  Ocean, 
and  one  of 'em  threw  a  harpoon  at  me,  and  it  stuck  in  my 
back.    I  want  to  get  it  out,  but  I  don't  know  how.     Which 
drawer  has  information  for  Whales  in  it?" 

"I  don't  know,''  replied  the  Merboy.  "I'm  trying  to  find 
out  what's  the  matter  with  Jimmieboy  here.  I'm  afraid 
he's  got  lockjaw,  but  the  only  thing  the  bureau  has  told 
me  so  far  is  how-  to  take  spots  out  of  carpets  and  start 
fires." 

"  What  nonsense!"  said  the  Whale  "Let  me  try  it,  will 
you  ?  I'm  suffering  like  everything." 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  Merboy,  standing  aside.  "Tin-re 
isn't  any  special  hurry  about  our  case." 

The  Whale   smiled    gratefully  and  grabbed  up   an   en- 
velope.    Opening  it  he  extracted  a  slip  of  paper,  and  read: 
"  'To  make  a  good  peacb  pie  get  ten  ripe  sliced  peaches, 
a  tin  plate,  and  enough  dough  to  cover  first  the  bottom  of 
the  plate  and  the  top  of  the  peaches.     Put  the,  whole  into 
a  hot  oven  and  cook  until  done.'  " 
"  Ho!"  laughed  the  Merboy. 

"This  bureau's  a  nuisance,"  said  the  Whale.  "The  idea 
of  telling  a  sea-monster  with  a  harpoon  iu  his  back  how  to 
make  peach  pie." 

Here  he  selected  another  envelope.  This  oue  contained 
a  slip  which  read:  "It  is  not  polite  to  sneeze  in  company. 
If  you  like  to  sneeze,  and  are  going  out  to  an  evening  party, 
contrive  to  do  all  your  sneezing  before  you  go.  If  during 
the  evening  party  you  feel  a  sneeze  coming  on,  rub  tin- 
bridge  of  your  nose,  or  press  the  middle  of  your  upper  lip 
with  your  forefinger,  and  the  desire  to  sneeze  will  disap- 
pear." 

"Nice  advice  to  give  a  Whale,"  sneered  the  monster. 
"Where  is  my  upper  lip  I'd  like  to  know,  or  my  forefinger 
for  that  matter?  If  I  don't  catch  the  right  answer  this 


time  I'll  hit  that  bureau  with  my  tail  and  knock  it  all  to 
pieces.1' 

The  Whale  made  one  more  effort.  Tljis  time  the  slip  he 
'took  out  read,  "If  your  teeth  ache  go  to  the  dentist  and 
ha\e  them  pulled." 

"That's  a  little  nearer  right,"  said  the  Merlioy. 

"I  don't  see  how,"  retorted  the  Whale.  "I  haven't  a 
toothache.  I  have  a  backache.  Shall  I  go  and  get  my 
back  pulled  .'" 

"No,"  said  the  Goldfish,  "but  perhaps  you  could  get  the 
harpoon  pulled." 

The  Whale's  face  wreathed  with  smiles. 

"That's  so,"  he  said,  eagerly.  "Wonder  I  didn't  think 
of  that  before.  It's  a  good  idea.  The  bureau  is  some  use 
after  all — t bough  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you,  Merby,  I'd  never 
have  discovered  it." 

"  Oh,  yes  you  would,"  said  the  Merboy.  "After  \  on  had 
thought  it  over  a  little  while  you'd  have  seen  what  was 
iin-ant.  Information  isn't  any  good  unless  you  think  about 
it  a  little." 

"  Well,  I'm  obliged  to  yon  just  the  same,"  said  the  Whale, 
backing  oft'.  "It's  pretty  haul  to  think  when  one  has  a 
harpoon  in  his  back.  I  suppose  you  don't  know  where  I 
can  find  a  dentist,  do  you?" 

"  No,  I  don't,"  said  the  Merboy.  "  I've  never  had  occasion 
to  use  one." 

"  Oh,  well,  I  suppose  there  are  such  things,  and  so  I'll 
set  about  finding  one.  Good-by,"  said  the  Whale,  and  off 
In-  started  in  search  of  a  dentist. 

"  He's  a  very  dull  creature."  said  the  Merboy,  returning 
to  the  bureau.  "He  never  thinks  much  even  when  he 
hasn't  a  harpoon  iu  his  back.  Now  for  our  trouble  again. 
This  envelope  looks  as  if  it  might  tell  us." 

Again  was  tbe  little  fellow  doomed  to  disappointment. 
All  the  information  contained  in  this  envelope  related  to 
the  killing  of  potato-hugs,  and  the  best  way  to  keep  inos- 
qnitos  from  biting. 

"This  is  the  worst  failure  of  a  bureau  of  information  I 
ever  saw,  or  else  I  don't  know  how  to  manage  it, "he  said. 
••  Suppose  you  try  it.  Jimmieboy.  You  may  have  better 
luck." 

Jimmieboy  dropped  the  reins  and  alighted  from  the  car- 
riage. Walking  to  the  bureau  he  opened  the  sec 1  drawer 

and  found  it  full  of  books.  They  were  very  handsome 
books  on  the  outside,  and  if  one  could  judge  from  their 
titles  they  were  attractive  inside  too.  One  of  them,  for 
instance,  was  named  The  Porpoise  of  the  Mediterranean,  or 
A  Minnoir's  Adventures  on  the  Coast  of  Africa.  Another  was 
labelled  Poems  of  A.  Hworfltixh.  Another  was  called  ./i-lliijixh 
.lini/lrx,  a  title  which  so  interested  Jimmieboy  that  he 
opened  it  and  read  some  of  them.  In  a  minute  he  threw 
his  head  back  and  laughed  loudly,  opening  his  mouth  as 
widelv  as  possible  iu  his  mirth.  He  was  so  amused  that  lie 
couldn't  keep  his  lips  closed. 

"Listen  to  this."  he  said:  "it's  called  'The  Unfortunate 
Tale  of  the  Polly  wog:' 

"  The  small  sea-toad  lie  climbed  a  tree 

One  windy  summer's  d:iy. 
And  through  the  water  chanced  to  see 

A  pollvvvog  grown  gray; 
Whereat' he  cried,  'Oh,  Pollywog, 

Come  tell  me,  sir,  I  pray, 
How  is  it  you  are  not  a  frog 

And  vet   have  grown  so  gray  '?' 

"  '  Because,'  the  Pollywog  replied, 

His  visage  turning  pale; 
'  Because,' and  here  he   deeply  sighed, 

And  sadly  wagged  his  tail ; 
1  Because,'  he  added,  as  the  tide 

Grew  wavy  in  the  gale; 
'  Because  I  shed  but  tears ;  I've  tried 

But  cannot  shed  my  tail.'  " 

"That's  pretty  good,"  said  the  Merboy,  with  a  smile. 
noticing  with  a  great  deal  of  relief  that  Jimmieboy  had  at 
last  opened  his  mouth.  "  Are  there  any  more  t"  he  ad. led. 
just  to  see  if  Jimmieboy's  cure  were  final. 

"  Yes,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "  Here's  one  about '  A  Sad  Sea- 
Dog.' 


511 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


JIMMIEBOY    SAW    A    HUGE    WHALE    RUSHING    DOWN    TOWARD    THEM 


'  Oil,  the  sad  sea-dog  lie  lias  no  fin, 

And  lie  never  moves,  they  say. 
He  sits  as  still  as  a  piece  of  tin, 
And  he's  never  known  to  smile  or  gi'in, 
Or  to  wipe  his  tears  away. 

'  His  chief  delight  is  to  bark  and  growl, 

And  to  yelp  and  screech  and  snap ; 
He  does  not  mind  if  the  wild  winds  howl, 
He  never  will  stir  for  fish  or  fowl, 
And  cares  not  what  may  hap. 

''  He  shakes  his  flippers  and  wags  his  jaws, 

Delights  in  the  awful  gale, 
He  breaks  each  one  of  the  ocean's  laws, 
And  no  one  lives  that  can  make  him  pause, 

From  sharks  to  the  mammoth  whale. 

"  And  it's  all  because  a  fisherman — 
A  man  with  a  great  green  eye — 
Mistook  him  once  for  his  black-and-tan, 
And  whistled  to  him,  and  called  him  '  Fan,' 
In  the  days  long  since  gone  by. 


"  When  a  sea-dog's  name  is  Anthony 

Montgomery  Varian, 
'Tis  apt  to  sour  his  spirit  to  be 
Miscalled  as  upon  that  day  was  he 

By  a  mean  land  name  like  Fan  !" 

"I  should  think  so,"  said  the  Gold- 
fish. "It's  like  being  christened  Alger- 
non at  church  and  being  known  as  Pe- 
tie  in  school." 

'•'  I  don't  wonder  be  sulked,"  said  Jiin- 
mieboy. 

"  Nor  I,"  said  the  Merboy.  "  But,  say, 
Jimmieboy,  you  are  cured  of  your  lock- 
jaw, aren't  you  f" 

"  Dear  me,  I  forgot !"  said  Jimmieboy. 
''  I  wasn't  going  to  open  my  mouth  un- 
der water  at  all." 

.  "  Why   not,   pray  ?"  asked    the   Mer- 
boy. 

"For  fear  of  swallowing  the  ocean," 
replied  Jimmieboy. 

"Ha!    ha!"     laughed     the      Merboy. 
"  Why,  you   couldn't  swallow  a  drop  of 
it,  much  less  the    whole    of  it,  the  way 
I've  fixed  it.     Is  that  all  you  were  do- 
ing— just  holding  your  month  shut  ?" 
"  That's  all,"  said  Jimmieboy. 
"Well,  well!      The    idea!"    said    the 
Merboy.     "Yon    ought  to  have  known 
better!" 

"  Well,  I  didn't, "said  Jiinmie.boy,  glad 
to  find  that  it  was  not  really  necessary 
to  keep  his  month  closed. 

"  Apparently  not — and  it  took  the  bu- 
reau of  in  formation  to  cure  you.  That's 
a  very  useful  bureau." 

"Very,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "I'd  like 
to  go  through  some  of  the  drawers  if  we 
have  time.  Have\ve?" 

"Lots,"  said  the  Merboy,  taking  the 
brush  on  the  top  of  the  bureau  and  fix- 
ing his  hair  with  it.  "We  have  ten 
times  as  much  time  as  there  is  really." 

"How  can  that  be?"  asked  Jimniii'- 
boy. 

"Well,  never  mind  now,"  said  the 
Merboy.  "But  some  time  you  ask  your 
papa  how  long  a  dream  a  boy  can  have 
who  is  asleep  only  ten  seconds.  You 
will  be  surprised  at  what  he  tells  you. 
I  once  had  a  dream  lasting  forty  years 
in  a  nap  that  was  less  than  a  minute 
long.  So  go  ahead.  You  have  plenty 
of  time,  and  I  dare  say  you  will  find  lots 
of  valuable  information  in  the  bureau. 
I  will  be  back  in  a  few  minutes." 

"  You  aren't  going  to  leave  me,  are  you  f"  asked  Jimiuie- 
boy. 

"No.  I'm  only  going  to  drive  the  Dolphins  around  to 
the  stable.  I'll  be  right  back." 

The  Merboy  entered  the  carriage  again  and  drove  oft", 
while  Jimmieboy  turned  his  attention  to  the  bureau  of  in- 
formation. As  he  turned,  his  eye  caught  sight  of  two  little 
drawers  that  he  had  not  noticed  before  on  either  side  of 
the  mirror  which  surmounted  the  bureau.  He  tried  to 
open  the  right-hand  drawer,  but  found  it  locked.  The 
left-hand  one  opened  easily,  and  in  it  Jimmieboy  found  a 
.little  golden  key.  This,  as  it  turned  out,  was  the  key  to 
the  other  drawer,  and  which,  no  sooner  had  the  key  turned 
in  the  lock,  slid  out  as  though  pushed  by  a  spring,  and  from 
it  jumped  the  funniest  little  old  man  Jimmieboy  had  ever 
seen,  hardly  taller  than  his  thumb,  and  dressed  from  head 
to  foot  in  beautiful  garments  of  silver  and  gold.  In  his 
left  hand  the  little  old  man  carried  a  jewelled  staff,  and 
his  right  hand  he  extended  to  Jimmieboy,  as  much  as  to 
say, 

"  Why,  howdy  do  ?     I'm  very  glad  to  see  you." 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


512 


fclNTERSCHOMASTIQ 


ALTHOUGH  THE  NEW  YORK  ATHLETES  will  by  no  means 
have  a  walk-over  at  the  Berkeley  Oval  next  Saturday, 
when  the  N.  Y.  I.  S.  A.  A.  and  the  L.  1. 1.  S.  A.  A.  contend  for 
the  Intercity  championship  in  track  athletics,  they  will 
certainly  carry  oft"  the  honors  of  the  day,  and  they  ought  to 
do  it  by  a  good  score.  New  York  has  better  material  this 
year  than  has  Brooklyn,  and  the  schools  here  have  been 
devoting  more  time  and  energy  to  field  sports  than  their 
rivals  have  across  the  Bridge.  In  fact,  the  Long-Islanders 
have  shown  a  certain  lack  of  interest  in  the  Intercity  con- 
test which  of  itself  is  sufficient  to  betoken  defeat.  The 
relay  race  between  the  New  York  and  Brooklyn  Interscho- 
lastic  teams  was  to  have  been  run  off  at  the  Wilson  and 
Kellogg  games  on  April  27th,  and  a  large  number  of  en- 
thusiasts gathered  at  the  Oval  to  witness  the  sport  in 
spite  of  the  heavy  downpour  of  rain.  The  hours  passed, 
however,  and  no  Brooklyn  racers  appeared.  Not  even  a 
word  of  explanation  came,  and  the  race  had  to  be  post- 
poned. It  was  thought  at  first  that  the  Brooklyn  team 
did  not  come  over  on  account  of  the  storm,  but  I  learned 
the  nest  day  that  the  reason  of  its  non-appearance  was  due 
to  the  fact  that  there  was  no  team  to  come.  Not  enough 
candidates  had  applied  at  the  Brooklyn  trial  heats  for  the 
managers  to  choose  four  capable  runners.  The  very  least 
these  managers  could  have  done,  under  the  circumstances, 
would  have  been  to  notify  the  New  York  Interscholastic 
authorities  of  this  fact.  Young  sportsmen,  as  well  as  older 
ones,  should  remember  that  one  of  the  first  considerations 
among  amateurs  is  to  fulfil  engagements  that  have  been 
entered  upon,  or  if  this  is  found  to  be  impossible,  to  give 
ample  and  timely  notice  to  their  opponents  of  their  ina- 
bility to  do  so. 

WHILE  IT  is  GRATIFYING  to  see  such  active  interest  dis- 
played by  the  New  York  schools  in  ont-door  sport,  it  is  also 
to  be  regretted,  as  I  have  had  occasion  tu  say  before  in  this 
department,  that  so  much  of  this  interest  should  be  turned 
in  one  direction.  The  New  York  school-boys  have  taken 
up  track  and  field  sports  to  so  large  an  extent  that  baseball 
has  suffered  materially  this  spring,  and  tennis  has  prac- 
tically been  dropped.  Such  a  state  of  alt'airs  must  surely 
bring  evil  results.  It  is  a  condition  that  cannot  last  long, 
but  while  it  does  last  it  works  considerable  harm.  The 
genuine  interests  of  field  sports  are  not  advanced  by  exces- 
sive indulgence.  It  is  best  to  encourage  every  game  that 
the  season  favors,  and  to  attempt  to  do  well  in  all  branches 
of  sport  than  to  excel  in  but  one.  Such  an  excellence  can 
be  but  ephemeral.  In  New  England  the  school-boys  are 
wiser  in  this  respect.  They  endeavor  to  develop  them- 
selves in  all  branches.  Only  a  few  days  ago  Mr.  D.  8.  San- 
ford,  principal' of  the  Brookline  Higli-School,  told  me  that 
from  statistics  he  had  prepared  he  had  learned  that  twenty 
per  cent,  of  the  boys  at  the  High-School  play  football,  fif- 
teen per  cent,  play  baseball,  fifteen  per  cent,  take  part  iu 
track  athletics,  and  forty  per  cent,  (of  the  boys  and  girls) 
play  tennis.  Fifty  per  cent,  take  part  iu  no  athletic  games 
at  all.  From  what  I  have  observed  in  and  around  Boston  I 
should  judge  that  the  athletic  efforts  of  most  of  the  other 
New  England  schools  are  distributed  in  a  similar  ratio. 
And  yet,  with  only  fifteen  per  cent,  of  the  Hoys  indulging 
in  track  athletics,  they  manage  to  make  pretty  fair  records ! 

IN  BROOKLYN  BASEBALL  HAS  not  been  allowed  to  suffer 
neglect  because  of  track  athletics,  and  so  the  race  for  the 
-  Long  Island  championship  promises  to  be  interesting.  The 
teams  are  evenly  matched  with,  but  one  or  two  exceptions. 
Pratt  Institute  has  no  nine  in  the  field,  and  Bryant  & 
Stratton's  is  practically  out  of  the  race,  having  already 
been,  defeated  a  number  of  times.  The  St.  Paul's  team  has 


a  decided  advantage,  over  most  of  the  other  nines  in  the- 
Association  in  that  it  is  mainly  composed  of  experienced 
players,  most  of  whom  were  members  of  last  year's  nine. 
Hall  is  pitching  well,  and  has  good  support.  The  Brook- 
lyn High's  team  is  made  up  wholly  of  raw  material,  with 
the  exception  of  Captain  Bruin,  but  the  men  are  working 
hard,  and  will  do  well  before  the  senson  closes.  One  good 
feature  iu  this  year's  High-School  athletics  is  the  barring- 
out  of  all  questionable  candidates,  the  two  forfeited  cham- 
pionships of  last  year  having  evidently  proved  a  salutary 
lesson.  The  Brooklyn  Latin  has  one  of  the  strongest  nines 
in  the  league,  and  will  probably  make  a  strong  bid  for  the- 
pennant.  Captain  Litchtield  is  playing  good  ball  at  third, 
and  both  Goodwin  and  Sloven  are  doing  good  work  at 
short-stop  and  first  base  respectively.  Hall,  of  last  year's- 
Poly.  Prep,  team,  is  pitching,  and  Watt,  formerly  of  Bryant 
&  Strattou's,  is  catching. 

THE  ADELPHI  ACADEMY  has  turned  out  a  better  set  of 
players  than  it  had  last  year,  and  promises  to  make  a  good 
record.  The  team  is  made  up  pretty  much  of  new  ma- 
terial, but  the  men  are  working  hard.  Jewell  and  Simpson 
alternate  in  the  box,  with  Forney  as  back-stop.  Byers  at 
first  and  Graff  at  third  are  capable  players.  Poly.  Prep,  is 
laboring  under  the  disadvantage  of  an  unfavoring  faculty 
— a  group  of  honest  gentlemen  who  have  not  yet  caught 
up  with  the  fact  that  athletics  have  come  to  stay,  and  are, 
in  moderation,  a  part  of  every  educational  system.  As  the- 


W.  T.  I.AING.  N-    W.   UAKK1CE. 

ANDOVER    ACADEMY'S    TWO    RECORD    RUNNERS. 

school  officers  take  no  interest  whatever  in  the  sport,  the 
players  are  working  along  as  best  they  can  under  these  ad- 
verse circumstances,  and  they  an-  fortunately  getting  good 
support  from  their  fellows.  The  authorities  have  gone 


513 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


furih.T  than  u-ing  passive  in  their  attitude  toward  ath- 
letics li.v  ruling  that  Ste\  enson.  t  lie  Captain  of  tlio  nine, 
sliall  only  play  in  league  games.  This  i.s  all  very  well  if 
Stevenson  neglects  his  studies  tor  baseball,  lint  as  1'ar  as  I 
am  able  to  learn,  snch  is  not  the  ease.  Dnnue  is  pitching 
fairly  well,  but  t"  be  successful  he  must  get  better  control 
over  (lie  ball.  Noyes,  who  is  acting  as  substitute  Captain, 
i-  putting  up  a  steady  game  at,  second,  and  McKay  is  doing 
well  at  lirst.  The  other  players  are  new.  The  out-field  is 
weak,  but  the  team  work  at  times  is  fairly  good,  and  the 
n  certainly  have  a  spirit  and  energy  which  are  com- 
mendable. 

EVEN'  A  CASUAL  OBSERVER  cannot  fail  to  notice  how 
much  more  is  done  for  interscholastic  sport  in  New  Eng- 
land than  in  New  York  and  its  vicinity.  Not  only  do  Har- 
vard and  Yale  universities  take  an  active  interest  in  the 
work  of  the  young  men  whom  they  expect  to  gather  into 
their  own  ranks,  but  even  the  Boston  Athletic  Association, 
\\hidi  caniioi  hope  to  derive  any  material  benefit  from  its 
exertions,  ofl'ers  cups  and  medals  for  interscholastic  events, 
and  does  all  that  is  possible  to  aid  and  advise  the  Boston 
school-boys.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  New  York  Athletic 
Club  could  do  worse  than  follow  the  B.A.A.'s  good  exam- 
ple. As  far  as  I  know ,  the  N.Y'.A.C.  does  nothing  in  the 
i  nil-rest  of  school  sports.  To  be  sure,  my  indefatigable 
friend  Evert  Wendell  performs  enough  good  service  as 
referee  at  scholastic  contests  to  make  up  for  many  of  the 
club's  shortcomings ;  but  Mr.  Wendell  does  this  purely  as  a 
lover  of  sport,  and  not  as  a  representative  of  the  club. 
Many  of  the  best  athletes  of  the  N.Y.I.S.A.A.  are  mem- 
bers of  the  N.Y.A.C.  They  ought  to  get  together  in  the 
near  future,  and,  with  the  aid  and.  advice  of  Mr.  Wendell, 
endeavor  to  get  the  managers  of  the  N.Y.A.C.  to  show 
more  active  interest  in  the  exceedingly  good  work  now  be- 
ing done  by  the  schools. 

IN  BOSTON,  all  the  Interscholastic  Committee  meetings 
are  held  ill  the  B. A. A.  club-house  on  Exeter  Street,  and 
every  winter  the  clnb  holds  an  in-door  meeting  for  the 
especial  benefit  of  the  thirty  schools  that  compose  the  New 
England  League.  The  silver  cup  which  the  B. A. A.  has  of- 
fered this  year  to  be  played  for  for  five  years  by  the  school 
baseball  teams  is  a  tine  trophy,  and  cannot  fail  to  act  as  an 
incentive  to  'the  young  players  of  the  league.  Harvard's 
.work  for  the  schools  is  even  more  active.  Seven  years  ago 
the  university  was  instrumental  in  forming  the  New  Eng- 
land I.S. B.B. A.,  anil  in  1891  it  organized  the  Interscholastic 
Lawn  Tennis  Association,  whose  fifth  annual  tournament 
was  held  on  Jarvis  Field,  Cambridge,  Max  4th  and  Gth,  with 
au  entry  list  of  over  fifty  names.  The  prizes  offered  each 
year  are  a  gold  medal  or  a  cup  to  the  winner,  a  racquet  to 
the  runner-up,  anil  a  championship  banner  to  the  school 
whose  team  scores  the  largest  number  of  points.  This  year 
the  cup  is  a  handsomely  engraved  piece  of  silverware-  in  the 
shape  of  a  pitcher  with  one  handle.  As  a  general  thing,  I 
do  uot  believe  in  medals  and  cups  as  inducements  to  young 
men  to  enter  into  amateur  sports.  The  pure  love  of  the 
game  should  be  sufficient  to  call  out  their  best  efforts.  But 
there  is  no  doubt  that  interest  in  their  early  ctVorls.  ex- 
pressed in  some  such  material  way  by  associations  of  older 
players  is  a  good  thing,  and  it  is  certainly  a  strong  incen- 
tive to  a  general  participation  in  athletics  for  many  boys 
who  might  otherwise  be  too  indolent  or  too  disinter*  M<  .1 
to  discover  and  develop  their  own  capabilities.  This  once 
done,  however,  there  is  no  school-boy  who  is  not  enough  of 
a  true  sportsman  not  to  keep  on,  regardless  of  any  possible 
material  advantages  or  rewards.  The  mere  title  of  cham- 
pion is  the  most  precious  prize  to  be  won  in  any  field. 

THAT  HARVARD'S  EFFORTS  for  the  promotion  of  tennis  in 
the  New  England  schools  have  been  successful  there  is  no 
doubt.  At  the  first  tournament,  held  in  1891,  R.  D.  Wreuu, 
now  the  national  champion, then  in  the  Cambridge  Latin 
School,  was  i  In  winner,  and  he  helped  earn  the  pennant  for 
his  school.  The  following  year  Malcolm  Chace  met  Clar- 
ence Budloug  in  the  Interscholastic  finals,  and,  after  a  hot 
match,  Chace  took  first,  and  carried  the  banner  to  the  Uni- 


versity Grammar  School  of  Providence.  Budlong  won  in 
189:!, but  only  after  a  hard  struggle  with  Ware,  of  the  Rox- 
bury  Latin,  who  came  up  again  in  1894  and  carried  oil' all 
the  honors,  including  the  championship  banner  for  the 
school  making  the,  highest  number  of  points:  Ware's 
second  victory  in  the  finals  last  week  entitles  him  to  a 
position  among  the  leading  young  phncis  of  the  country, 
and  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  will  win  at  Newport  in  the 
Intel-scholastic  tournament  this  summer. 

JARVIS  FIELD  AFFORDED  a  beautiful  sight  while  the 
tournament  was  going  on  last  week.  There  were  twenty- 
two  courts  in  use  during  the  preliminary  rounds,  and  a 
goodly  number  of  spectators  stood  around  to  watch  the 
players.  I  was  most  interested  in  Ware's  work,  and  ga\e 
most  of  my  attention  to  his  play.  He  was  in  three  mail-lies 
the  first  day,  and  won  them  all.  He  first  met  Edwards, 
who  is  a  strong  player,  and  who  made  him  do  some  sharp 
work  in  the  second  set.  Ware  is  particularly  good  on  hard 
drives,  aud  it  is  really  inspiring  to  see  him  smash  the  ball 
at  the  buck  line,  and  come  within  a  few  inches  of  it  every 
time.  But  Henderson  was  lively, and  returned  many  of 
the  champion's  swiftest  drives;  he  would  have  made  a 
better  showing  if  he  had  been  more  accurate  in  his  placing. 
Later  Ware  defeated  Bart  left  and  Seaver,  both  in  two 
straight  sets,  three  of  which  were  love  sets.  Fitz  showed 
great  improvement  in  form  over  last  year,  and  reached  the 
semi-finals.  He  is  a  rising  young  player,  and  will  be  heard 
from  next  year.  On  Monday,  the  6th,  Ware  played  in  the 
semi-finals  and  the  finals  and  won  the  cup.  Newton  High 
took  the  pennant  offered  for  the  school  winning  the  greatest 
number  of  points. 

ARRANGEMENTS  ARE  BEING  MADE  to  bring  about  a  meet- 
ing between  the  track-athletic  teams  of  Phillips  Andover 
and  Worcester  academies.  As  yet  no  date  has  been  set  for 
the  games,  but  if  the  two  schools  can  come  to  an  under- 
standing on  certain  minor  points,  it  is  probable  that  they 
will  be,  held  at  Worcester  during  the  week  previous  to  the 
big  Interscholastic  meeting  at  Cambridge  in  June.  The 
games  will  be  most  interesting,  for  both  the  Worcester  and 
Audover  academies  have  strong  teams.  Headers  of  this 
department  will  remember  that  the  Worcester  Academy 
took  second  place,  with  14J  points,  at  the  in-door  meeting 
in  Boston  last  March,  and  Andover  won  the  Interscholastics 
in  June  last  year.  The  programme  of  the  dual  games  will 
be  the  same  as  the  Intercollegiate  order  of  events,  and  only 
three  candidates  will  be  entered  from  each  school.  Win  ces- 
ter's  best  sprinter,  Clark,  has  been  ill,  and  will  not  run 
again  this  year,  and  so  Semi  or  Barker  of  Andover  will 
have  a  better  chance  for  the  100  and  220.  Barker,  how- 
ever, is  inclined  to  be  indolent,  and  is  not  careful  or  regu- 
lar in  his  training.  Laiug  of  Andover  is  pretty  sun-  to 
win  the  mile.  He  won  that  event  in  the  Interscholastirs 
last  June  in  4.IW?,  but  as  he  is  twenty-one  years  old  this 
year,  he  is  debarred  from  competing  on  Holmes  Field  in 
June.  This  I.S.A.A.  rule  would  not  affect  his  status  in  the 
Worcester-Audovcr  games,  however,  and  Laing  will  there 
try  to  lower  his  record.  Holt  will  take  the  shot  event  for 
Andover,  aud  Malby,  his  schoolmate,  will  probably  get  sec- 
ond. Holt  should  also  win  the  hammer  throw.  Lorraine 
of  Audover  will  do  no  better  than  to  secure  a  place  in  the 
44(1,  which  will  be  won  by  Judd  of  Worcester,  if  lie  runs. 
But  Judd  may  reserve  himself  for  the  half-mile,  which  he  is 
sure  to  take.  As  Audover  has  no  good  men  in  the  jumps, 
Worcester  should  get  10  points  or  more  there,  and  Johnson 
of  Worcester  will  easily  take  the  pole  vault,  having  a  rec- 
ord of  10  feet  8  inches.  Barker  will  give  Hiue  a  close 
race  over  the  Jow  hurdles,  aud  may  win.  Hine  took  the 
event  at  the  Interscholastics  last  year.  These  dual  games 
will  be  an  excellent  thing  for  the  advancement  of  the 
sport,  and  I  hope  some  of  the  other  large  schools,  situated 
at  a  distance  from  one  another,  will  take  up  the  idea  and 
arrange  similar  meetings. 

A  FIELD  MEETING  of  Pacific  Coast  amateurs  was  held  at 
the  Olympic  Club  Grounds.  San  Francisco,  April  -20th.  an.l 
the  school-boys  who  entered  made  a  very  good  showing. 


514 


HARPER'S   BOUND   TABLE 


The  games  were  held  for  the  benefit  of  the 
University  of  California  team,  no\v  in  the 
East,  and  the  young  athletes  of  the  A.A.L. 
compared  very  favorably  with  the  men  who 
have  come  on  to  joust  with  Yale,  Princeton, 
and  Pennsylvania.  Jackson  of  the  Oakland 
High-School  won  the  mile  run  in  4  iiiin.  38| 
sec.,  with  lirown  of  the  University  of  Cali- 
fornia second.  Brown  led  in  the  last  lap 
until  the  stretch,  when  Jackson  spurted  and 
•won  by  the  very  narrow  margin  often  inches. 
Jenks,  O.H.-S.,  won  the  quarter  in  52?  sees. 
by  ten  or  twelve  yards,  with  two  universi- 
ty men.  Harm's  and  Parkhnrst.  behind  him. 
Cheek,  the  captain  of  the  O.H.-S.  team,  got 
second  in  the  broad  jump,  covering  21  feet, 
and  cleared  10  feet  2fc  inches  in  the  pole 
vault.  McConnell,  O.H.-S.,  cleared  5  feet  3 
inches  in  the  high  jump,  and  took  second 
in  the  event.  The  Pacific  Coast  scholars 
may  well  be  proud  of  these  achievements  in 
a  competition  with  men  so  much  older  and 
more  experienced  than  themselves. 

THE  GKADUATE. 


THE 
jHPUDDING 


Tills  Department  i»  run, Juried  in  tile  iiitepr-l  ..!'  t.'irls  Hn.l  Yumi* 
Women,  and  the  Kdit.T  will  be  pleased  t..  answer  «ny  question  on 
the  subject  so  I'tvr  us  possible.  Correspondents  should  address  Editor. 

AILSIE  BOND  CAMIC  to  see  me  on  last 
Saturday  afternoon,  and  I  noticed  at 
a  glance  that  something  was  wrong.  I 
knew  it  by  her  very  step  and  her  look.  Ail- 
sie  is  one  of  my  darlings,  such  a  bright, 
brave  girl,  always  just  where  one  expects 
to  find  her,  the  sweetest,  dearest,  sunniest 
of  companions.  But  she  was  under  a  cloud 
last  week.  Let  me  add  that  she  is  sixteen 
years  old,  and  a  school-girl. 

"  I  AM  so  HOMESICK,"  she  said,  sitting  in 
her  favorite  corner  of  the  lounge,  with  her 
elbow  resting  on  a  cushion.  "Here  I've 
tept  up  for  mouths  working  hard  and  learn- 
ing uver  so  much,  and  feeling  every  day  that 
father  and  mother  are  so  good  in  sparing 
me  to  stay  away  so  long,  and  in  giving  me 
these  advantages,  and  now,  when  the  last 
school  term  of  ihe  year  is  almost  ended,  ex- 
aminations coming  on,  and  then  so  soon 
home,  sweet  home  and  a  long  vacation,  1 
can't  stand  it.  I  want  my  mother.  I  want 
to  sleep  in  my  own  little  room.  1  want  to 
hug  the  baby.  I  want  to  count  the  silver, 
and  dust  the  parlor,  and  keep  the  library  in 
order,  and  run  to  meet  my  father  when  he 
conies  home  from  the  office.  Oh,  I  know 
it  is  silly!"  she  said,  laughing  and  crying 
both  at  once,  "  but  I  can't  help  it.  I'm  home- 
sick, and  I'd  rather  have  the  toothache.  It 
wouldn't  hurt  any  more." 

THKIII-;  WAS  MI  L\SE  in  arguing  with  dear 
Ailsie,  so  I  comforted  her  as  best  I  could. 
You  girls  who  art  away  at  school  know  all 
about  it.  The  homesick  hours  must  come, 
ami  you  wouldn't  be  really  home-loving  girls 
if  you  didn't  have  them.  Bnt  if  one  never 
went  away  from  home,  she  couldn't  have 
the  joy  of  going  back  there,  and  being  met 
at  the  station  by  her  big  brother,  and  hav- 
ing father  and  mother  welcome  her,  and  the 
little  ones  show  how  much  they  had  grown 
ill  her  absence,  even  the  cat  and  dog  show- 


ing their  delight  that  one  they  had  missed 
was  \\ith  them  again.  Poor  pns.s.  and  poor 
collie  and  terrier,  I  often  wonder  at  lln-ir 
dumb  wonder  and  speculation  as  to  what 
has  become  of  their  friends  when  somebody 
in  the  house  goes  olf  and  stays  away  a  long 
while.  They  cannot  talk,  but  they  purr  or 
wag  their  tails,  and  all  but  laugh  when  the 
friends  return.  Yes,  girls,  brace  up,  as  your 
brothers  say.  A  half -hour  at  home  will 
console  you  for  the  homesickness  you  suffer 
from  when  absent.  Keep  up  your  courage, 
and  at  the  worst  remember  that 

"Tlie  darkest  day, 
Live  till   to-morrow   will  have  passed  awav." 

THE  WOODS  AHE  perfect  dreams  of  beauty 
in  these  May  days,  and  what  with  the  dog- 
wood blossoms  shining  in  starry  splendor, 
and  the  laurel  getting  ready  to  bloom,  and 
the  orchards  drifting  their  piuk-and-white 
blossoms  on  the  softly  caressing  winds,  the 
world  is  a  beautiful  place.  Be  on  the  look- 
out for  exquisite  things  and  you  will  surely 
iiml  them.  It  is  a  pity  to  go  blindly  through 
so  much  splendor.  .Use  your  eyes  and  uli- 
M;TI  .•  every  day  will  show  you  something 
new. 

Dn>  YOU  EVEK  NOTICE  how  cunningly 
some  birds  hide  their  nests,  weaving  them 
of  twigs  just  the  color  of  the  ground,  ami 
then  sitting  on  their  eggs  almost  in  your 


sight.  \et  so  unobtrusively  that  yon  disi-ov- 
er  them  only  by  an-idc-nt  .'  The  liitlr  so- 
ciable wrens,  less  timid  and  more  Iriendly, 
build  their  nests  by  the  very  house  door, 
and  are  not  afraid  to  let  you  have-  a  peep 
at  their  pretty  housekeeping.  Birds  arc  in- 
teresting neighbors  to  my  mind. 

ANNA  C.  ASKS  WHAT  you  must  have  at  an 
afternoon  tea.  You  /««//  have  anything  yon 
choose,  sandwiches,  small  cakes,  salads,  ices, 
candies,  and,  of  course,  tea  served  \\ith 
cream  and  sugar,  or  with  thin  slices  of  lem- 
on and  sugar.  But  you  unixt  have,  or,  rath- 
er, you  need  only  have,  if  you  wish,  tea  and 
very  thin,  daintily  served  slices  of  bread-and- 
butter.  The  idea  of  afternoon  tea  is  merely 
a  light  refreshment  about  live  o'clock  in  I  hr 
afternoon,  when  you  may  have  a  few-  mo- 
ments' pleasant  chat  with  the  family  ami 
your  friends,  and  when  what  you  eat  and 
drink  is  a  delicate  accompaniment  to  the 
conversation.  Among  the  most  acceptable), 
sandwiches  are  those  made  with  a  crisp 
green  lettuce  leaf  between  thin  slices  of 
bread-and-butter,  the  lettuce  salted  and 
sprinkled  with  vinegar,  or  of  very  dainty 
brown  bread  witli  cottage  cheese  thinly 
spread  on  the  two  inner  sides. 


/ 


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HAEPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


BICYCLING 


Tbia  Department  is  conducted  in  the  interest  of  Bicyclers,  and  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to 
answer  any  question  on  the  subject,  besides  inquiries  reeardinE  the  League  ol  American 
Wheelmen*,  ao  far  as  possible.  Correspondents  should  address  Editor  Bicycling  Department. 

THK  MAP  THIS  WEEK  marks  out  cue  of  the  several  differ- 
ent ways  of  going  from  New  York  to  Stamford,  Connecti- 
cut, or  any  of  the  points  aloug  the  way.  A  good  ride  for 
an  ordinary  bicycle-rider  who  is  not  out  to  cover  distance, 
but  wants  to  reach  a  certain  point,  stop  for  dinner  and  re- 
turn, is  to  go  from  Fifty-ninth  Street  to  Portchester,  which 
is  about  twenty-five  miles,  making  in  all  a  fifty-mile  run. 
This  route  may  be  extended  if  the  rider  is  looking  for  a 
longer  distance,  as  far  as  Stamford,  which  is  perhaps  about 
thirty-two  miles  from  110th  Street.  The  road  is  an  uncom- 
fortable one  to  ride  over  until  the  rider  is  well  out  of  the 
city, but  after  that  it  is  reasonably  good,  except  for  the 
hills  before  going  into  New  Eochelle,  aud  before  going  into 
Mamaroueck. 

THE  EIDER  SHOULD  ENTER  Central  Park  at  Fifty-ninth 
Street  aud  Eighth  Avenue  ;  thence  diagonally  over  to  the 
Eastern  Drive,  leaving  the  Park  at  its  northern  end;  up 
Lenox  Avemie  to  128th  Street ;  then  east  to  Third  Avenue, 
aud  then  across  the  Third  Avenue  Bridge.  Half  a  block 
north  of  the  bridge  turn  to  the  right  on  the  southern  Bon- 
levard;  follow  the  southern  Boulevard  east  to  Union  Ave- 
nue, something  more  than  a  mile,  with  Belgian  block  pave- 
ment all  the  way.  At  Union  Avenue  it  is  well  to  leave  the 
southern  Boulevard,  because  the  macadamized  road  is  so 
full  of  holes,  aud  otherwise  in  very  bad  condition.  Go  on 
Union  Avenue  about  one-half  mile  north  over  mud  ruts,  aud 
come  out  upon  Westchester  Avenue.  Here  the  rider  has 
sixteen  blocks  of  Belgian  block  pavement  eastward.  After 
this  comes  a  badly  macadamized  road,  which  has  several 
descents  aud  short  sharp  hills  for  about  three  blocks  to 
Fox  Street;  thence  go  on  a  fairly  good  road, improving  all 
the  way,  to  the  village  of  West  Farms,  where  you  cross- 
the  Bronx  River  and  come  out  on  the  old  Boston  Post  Road. 
From  here  the  road  is  macadamized  aud  is  very  good, 
and  the  rider  should  keep  to  it  all  the  way  to  Stamford. 
Or  he  may  turn  right  just  out  of  Brouxdale  and  go  down 
to  New  Rochelle  through  Westchester,  Baychester.  etc.  In 
either  case  the  road  is  the  same  after  leaving  New  Ro- 
chelle. 

THERE  ARE  MANY  LITTLE  HILLS  between  Pelham  Bridge 
and  New  Rochelle,  the  longest  being  iu  Neptune  Park,  just 
south  of  New  Rochelle  village.  The  road  is  macadamized 
and  iu  excellent  order.  There  is  a  steep  descent  about 
four  blocks  long  as  yon  approach  Larchmout  Manor,  with 
a  corresponding  hill  to  climb  as  you  enter  the  village. 
There  are  three  hills,  each  about  three  blocks  long,  between 
Larchmont  Manor  and  Mamaroneek.  the  road  being  macad- 
amized all  the  way.  North  of  Mamaroueck  the  road  is 
macadamized  and  kept  in  excellent,  condition  as  far  as  Rye. 
The  road  from  Rye,  thence  around  the  north  of  Portches- 
ter, theuce  to  bridge  at  Bryan  River,  sharp  turn  to  right 
here,  and  thence  to  Greenwich,  is  a  well-kept  macadam. 
The  rider  may  stop  at  Greenwich,  if  he  choose,  but  the  run 
to  Stamford  to  the  north  of  Coscob  at  the  head  of  Coscob 
Bay  is  a  good  one.  The  country  is  rolling  rather  than, 
hilly.  There  are  no  specially  steep  hills  in  this  district. 

AT  NEW  ROCHELLK  A  STOP  may  be  made  at  the  Huge- 
not  House,  after  a  run  of  fourteen  miles.  By  taking  the 
turn  to  the  right  indicated  on  the  map  just  before  enter- 
ing Portchester,  instead  of  turning  sharp  to  the  left  and 
following  the  bicycle  route,  the  rider  may  run  into  Port- 
chester and  stop  at  the  Irving  or  the  West  End  Hotel, 
while  at  Stamford  the  Stamford  House  is  iu  the  centre  of 
the  town,  aud  furnishes  a  suitable  stopping-place  for  the 
end  of  the  journey. 

NOTF.—  Map  of  New  York  city  asphalted  streets  in  No.  S09.  Map  o£ 
route  from  New  Yorli  to  Tarrytowu  in  No.  810. 


516 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


STAT^PS 


This  Department  a  conducted  in  the  interest  of  stump  mile, Mrs, 
and  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to  answer  any  question  on  the  subject 
BO  fur  as  possible.  Correspondents  should  address  Editor  Stamp  De- 
partment. 

SINCE  THE  FINDING  OF  THE  variety  in  the 
twelve-cent  stamp  of  the  United  States, 
illustrated  a  short  time  ago,  the  collectors 
Jiave  been  industriously  seeking  for  varie- 
ties iu  the  other  values  in  the  same  series, 
and  not  without  results,  as  two  varieties 
are  now  mentioned  in  other  stamps,  one  of 
them  being  the  seven-cent  of  the  1872  issue, 
and  the  other  in  the  current  two-ceut 
stamp. 

The  first  variety  discovered  is  shown  in 
the  accompanying  illustrations,  these  show- 
ing the  lower  left-hand  corners  of  the  seven- 
cent  stamp.  In  Fig.  2  a  very  iiue  line  will 


L 


be  noticed  around  the  two  points  of  the 
bulb,  these  being  absent  in  the  other  varie- 
ty. As  the  seven-cent  stamp  is  somewhat 
scarce,  young  collectors  will  hardly  be  in  a 
position  to  sort  a  number  over  to  look  for 
the  variety. 

THE  OTHER  VARIETY  which  has  been 
found  is  shown  in  the  two  cuts  given,  these 
representing  the  triangular  ornaments  in 
the  upper  corners  of  the  current  two-cent 
stamps.  In  the  ordinary  or  common  varie- 
ty the  lines  run  across  the  ornaments,  while 


in  the  new  variety  the  lines  stop  at  the 
frame  of  the  triangles,  thus  causing  them  to 
show  clearer.  As  there  are  a  great  number 
of  plates  used  forpriuting  the  two-cent  val- 
ues, the  new  variety  will  probably  be  found 
in  profusion,  and  it  is  interesting  to  hunt 
for  them. 

A  RECENT  DESPATCH  from  Washington 
stated  that  the  Attorney-General  had  given 
it  as  his  opinion  that  foreign  postage-stamps 
were  securities,  and  therefore  came  under 
the  law  iu  relation  to  counterfeiting.  This 
opinion,  it  would  seem,  would  stop  the  using 
ot  stamp  cuts  of  any  kind  iu  this  country, 
hut  the  publishers  have  as  yet  taken  no 
notice  of  the  matter. 

THE  FOUR,  five,  and  fifteen  cent  values  of 
the  United  States  1890  issue  have  been 
found  iu  an  uuperforated  state. 

IN  THE  FIRST  ISSUE  of  United  States  en- 
velopes, iu  giving  the  various  dies  of  the 
three-cent  value  the  catalogue  gives  the 
width  of  the  labels  in  millimetres  as  show- 
ing the  dies.  The  label  is  the  space  at  top 
of  stamp  enclosing  the  word  "  Three,"  and 
in  measuring  you  take  from  each  side  of 
the  label,  in  some  dies  the  label  being 
curved,  and  iu  some  it  is  straight  on  the 
ends. 


Louis  A  DYAR. — There  is  no  half -penny  English 
postage  stamp  of  a  dark  blue  color.  A  complete  cata- 
logue of  all  stamps  can  be  had  of  any  dealer  for  about 
fifty  cents.  All  English  stamps  issued  between  1858 
and  18S7  had  letters  in  the  corners.  The  first  stamp  on 
the  sheet  was  lettered  A.  B.  in  the  upper  corners,  B.  A. 
in  the  lower  corners.  The  next  stamp  was  lettered 
A.  C.  in  the  upper,  C.  A.  in  the  lower,  and  so  on.  Iu 
addition  each  plate  had  a  separate  number. 

R.  F.  J. — We  cannot  give  addresses  iu  this  column. 
Apply  to  any  stamp  dealer  if  you  do  not  find  a  satis- 
factory advertisement  hi  the  advertising  columns  of 
tliiy  paper. 

F.  S.MITU.— The  two  stamps' described  by  yon  are 
very  rare  Confederate  locals.  The  New  Orleans  is 
worth  from  $2  to  $5,  according  to  the  color  of  the  ink 
and  paper.  Yon  do  not  describe  it  sufficiently  to  de- 
termine whether  it  is  the  regular  issue  or  one  of  the 
red  on  blue  paper.  The  other  stamp  is  the  Mobile 
black,  sold  by  dealers  at  $40  each.  You  are  to  be  con- 
gratulated. 

A.  K  — Yes.  All  United  States  stamps  are  increas- 
ing in  value. 

K.  C.  B.— The  1838,  1845,  184T  United  States  cents 
are  sold  by  dealers  at  from  five  to  fifteen  cents  each, 
according  to  condition.  There  is  one  1838  cent  in 
which  this  date  is  struck  over  the  date  1836.  That  is 
a  rare  coin,  and  is  worth  $6. 

FBRD.  W.  COON — The  Cape  of  Good  Hope  stamps 
made  in  1861  are  woodcuts  made  for  an  emergency. 
The  one  penny  blue  and  fonrpenny  red  of  this  issue 
are  "errors,"  and  are  worth  &250  each. 

ALBERT  CURRIRR. — The  value  of  the  two  locals 
which  are  catalogued  at  $35  and  $20  respectively, 
which  yon  wish  to  sell,  depends  largely  on  their  con- 
dition. This  department  cannot  tell  what  a  dealer 
ought  to  give  for  them.  If  one  dealer  will  not  buy  at 
your  price,  perhaps  another  will,  but  remember  deal- 
ers expect  to,  and,  in  fact,  must  make  a  profit. 

M.  B.  W. — The  United  States  Internal  Revenue 
stamps  on  the  back  of  old  photographs  have  no  value 
as  a  rule.  Many  millions  were  used  every  year  for  a 
long  time.  This  is  especially  true  of  the  one-cent 
stamps,  except  the  one  marked  Playing  Cards. 


THE  SECOND  SUMMER, 

many  mothers  Relieve,  is  the  most  precarious  in  a 
child's  life;  generally  it  maybe  true,  but  you  will  find 
that  mothers  and  physicians  fnmiliar  with  the  value  of 
the  Gail  Burden  Eagle  Brand  Condensed  Milk  do  not 
so  regard  it— [Adv.] 


ADVERTISEMENTS. 


Physicians 

prescribe  Scott's  Emulsion  of 
Cod-liver  Oil  and  Hypophos- 
phites  because  they  find  their 
patients  can  tolerate  it  for  a 
long  time,  as  it  does  not  upset 
the  stomach  nor  derange  the 
digestion  like  the  plain  oil. 
Scott's  Emulsion  is  as  much 
e'asier  to  digest  than  the  plain 
oil  as  milk  is  easier  to  digest 
than  butter.  Besides,  the  fish- 
fat  taste  is  taken  out  of  the  oil, 
and  it  is  almost  palatable.  The 
way  sickly  children,  emaciated, 
anaemic  and  consumptive  adults, 
gain  flesh  on  Scott's  Emulsion 
is  very  remarkable. 

Don't  be  persuaded  to  accept  a  substitute.' 
Scott  &  Bowne,  N.  Y.    All  Druggists.     50c.and$1. 


MONARCH 


King  of  all  Bicycles. 


TRADE-MARK. 

Five  Styles.    Weights,  1 8  to  25  Pounds. 
I'rices,  $85  and  $100. 

MONARCH    CYCLE   CO. 

Factory  and  Main  Office,  Lake  and  Halsted  Sts. .  Chicago. 

Eastern  Branch  :  79  Reade  St. ,  &  97  Chambers  St. ,  N .  V. 

The  C.  F.  GUVON  Co.,  Ltd.,  Managers. 

Sick  Headache 

AND 

Constipation 

are  quickly  and  pleasantly 
cured  by 

Tarrant's  Effervescent  Seltzer  Aperient. 

The  most  valuable  family  remedy  for 

Disordered  Stomach 

and  Impaired  Digestion. 

SO  cents  and  $1.00.  All  Druggists. 

TAKBANT  &  Co.,  Chemists,  N.  T. 


Stamps, 


STAMPS!! ..„_. 

Miri^JSr-wi  ^.saJ^svSJA'SB 

STAMP  CO..  4  Nicholson  Place.  St.  Louis,  Mo.    Old 
L'.  S.  and  Confederate  Stamps  bought. 

100  all  dif. Venezuela,  Costa  Rica,  etc.,  only 
IOC,; '200  all  dif.Hnyti, Hawaii, etc., only  5pc. 
Ag'ts  wanted  at  50  per  ct.  com.  List  FREE! 
C.A.Stegniaun,2722Ead8Av.,St.Loais,Mo. 


var.,  all  dif.,  5c.;  12  var.  Heligoland, 
15c.;  6  var.  Italy,  1853  to  1362,  5c.;  3  var. 


_    _  _    _  .  .  ,  ,      . 

Hanover,  sc.:  85  var.  C.  American,  50c.  Agents  wanted. 
F.  W.  MILLEll,  904  Olife  St.,  St.  Louis,  Mo. 


all  different,  Chinn,  elc.,  10c.;  5  Saxony,  10c.; 

40  Spain,  40c.;  6  Tunis,  14c.;  10  U.  S.  Hev- 
—  enues  lOc.  Agts.  wtd.,  50*  com.;  '95  list  free. 
CRITTENDEN  &  BQRGHAM  CO..  Detroit.  Mich. 


100 


POSTAGE   DUES.—  50c.   and  30c.,  at  70c.  each;   the 
pairfor$1.26.  Diamond  Stamp  Co.,  (Jerniaiitown.Pa. 

PUZZLE    PURSE. 

A  first-class  morocco  purse  with  nickel  frame 
and  clasp.  Can't  be  opened  without  the  secret  ; 
worth  25c.  as  a  purse  and  $5.00  as  a  "brain 
cracker."  As  sample  of  our  looo  Bargains  we 
mall  ItpnRtimlit  with  lnr<jr<?  i'atalnpiio  for  K-r. 

INGERSOLL  &  BRO.  65  CORTLANIT  ST.  N.  Y.  CITY. 


H 


II  Q  n  r  n  '  C  thoroughly  revised, 
Anrtn  0  classified,  and  in- 
dexed.will  be  sent  by  mail  to  any  ad- 


E 


517 


Twenty-three  Puzzle  Awards  and  Answers. 

Tim  We-t  carried  "ft'  the  honors  in  the  Twenty- 
tin, T  flu  1 1  Conti~t,  and  they  nu-  liiu'll  honors,  I'm  tin' 

c|iii".!i,,n-  were  MTV  difficult.     Tl iswere  follow. 

Th<>  authority  (or  most  of  them  i.«  Mr.  Joseph  W<  ' 
M 'a  iih/.  ry  "<  il"'  American  <'<ni:iress,  just  pub- 
lished 

1.  Nathaniel  Macon.  '2.  r,enjatnin  Harrison,  great- 
L'i  iiHlf.il  IKT  of  ex-Presideut  Benjamin  Hanson.  3. 
John  Hancock.  4.  James  Oglethorpe.  5.  Gen.  John 
Newton.  6.  Juimlhnn  Edward.-.  V.  Mile-  Standish  ; 
(i..v.  William  r.radlord.  K.  Kliphalet  Xotl.  9.  Thos. 
H.  Benlon.  10.  Thomas  Curwiil.  11.  Gen.  Sam 

Houston.     12.  James  Otis.     13.  G 'ge  \\  :i-liington. 

14.  Davy  Crockett.     15.  Geo.  B.  Roberts.     16.  James 

Fitch.     IT.  Jared    Ingersoll.     IS.  Tl lie    Godfrey. 

19.  Bayard  Taylor.  20.  Charles  Ellet.  •_'!.  Robl  I: 
Livingston.  22.  Anne  C.  de  la  Luzenic.  2:;.  Henry 
D.  Thoreau.  24.  George  Inness.  25.  Henry  Iiiinan. 
!i(i.  John  Adams.  2T.  William  Lloyd  Garrison.  23. 
Oliver  Hazard  Perry.  29.  Stephen  A.  Douglas.  30. 
Timothy  Ruggles. 

Longfellow  credits  Miles  Standish  with  the  Bending 
back  of  the  snake-skin,  nnd  the  "S"  in  his  name  is 

i ii-il  to  get  the  second  answer;  but  the  act  i<  also 

credited  to  Governor  William  Bradford.  Hence  both 
were  accepted^  George  Inness  is  the  correct  answer 
to  Number  24,  for  the  puzzle  was  particular  to  say 
"the  late." 

The  first  prize,  for  sending  correct  answers  to 
the  greatest  number  of  questions,  was  won  by  Alga 
Fawcett,  of  Minnesota,  and  is  $10  in  money.  Two 
second  prizes  of  $3  each  fire  awarded  to  John  Morton 
Espey,  of  Pennsylvania,  and  Frances  C.  Bliveu,  of 
distant  Washington.  Two  third  prizes  of  $1  each  are 
given  to  John  H.  Blair,  of  New  York  (Ithaca),  and 
Walter  Johnson,  of  Minnesota.  And  nine  Columbian 
half-dollars,  as  fourth  prizes,  are  sent  to  Marion  Mil- 
ler, of  Maryland;  Marguerite  Clow,  of  Minnc-,,ia  , 
Edmund  Rice,  Jr.,  of  Washington  ,  Harold  I >.  Samp- 
son and  Kenneth  Burton,  of  Wisconsin  ;  Gertrude  G. 
Wilcox,  of  Massachusetts;  Esther  Neilson,  of  Penn- 
sylvania; Mary  T.  Porter,  of  New  York,  and  Katie 
Bartholow,  of  Maryland. 

The  first  prize  winner  got  25  correct  answers ;  the 
second,  24;  the  third,  23,  and  the  Columbian  half-dol- 
lar winners,  22  and  21. 

If  the  last  names  of  the  twenty-three  members  of 
the  C'lnb  be  rightly  arranged  the  initials  spell  "The 
Landing  of  the  Pilgrims."  Prizes  of  bound  v.d'iim's 
of  Hun-Kit's  YOUNG  PKOPLK  were  offered  for  finding 
this  sentence,  no  regard  being  had  for  the  uniul"'i  ot 
names  found.  The  winners  are:  Pennsylvania,  Will- 
iam F.  Campbell ;  Wisconsin,  Harold  ».  Sampson  and 
Kenneth  Burton;  Washington,  Edmund  Rice,  Jr.; 
Illinois.  Alice  Enright:  New  England,  Helen  C.  Hop- 
kins; Minnesota,  Alice  E.  Dyar  ;  Michigan,  Henry 
Mardn  Jones;  Indiana,  James  Gibbons;  New  York 
aud  New  Jersey,  Mary  T.  Porter  (New  York);  Mis- 
souri and  Kansas.  Mary  T.  Robinson ;  Tennessee, 
Frank  Hopkins;  Manitoba,  Jules  E.  Maijoi  ibanks ; 
and  "at  large,"  Pansy  Caldwell".  of  Alabama,  aud 
Maddiu  C.  Mai  shall,  of  South  Carolina. 


IRounfc  "Cable  Cbapters. 

No.  687.— The  Washington  Chapter,  of  Warsaw, 
111.  Phillip  Diillam,  Willie  Hoff  man.  Box  106,  War- 
saw. 

No.  688.— The  Grove  Literary  and  Musical  i  'hap- 
ter.'of  New  York  city.  Hattie  Lovell ;  Edythe  G. 
ll.i  l  ha  way,  i;?'  Horatio  Street. 

No.  689.— The  Whittier  Chapter,  of  Englewood, 
III.  Percy  Wilkinson,  Raymond  Hathaway,  Stearns 
Bushnell,  Herbert  Snider.  Other  members  are 
Morev  Porter,  George  Kay,  William  Mueller.  Its 
meetings  are  held  on  Friday.  Chapter  address, 
439  Englewood  Avenue. 

No.  il'.iO.— The  Charleston  Stamp  Exchange  Chap- 
ter, of  Charleston,  S.  C.  It  desires  to  corresp 1 

with  other  stamp  exchange  chapters,  and  would 
like  members  from  other  cities,  chapter  address, 
.1. imes  E.  Nestor,  26  Pinekney  Street. 

No.  691.— The  El  Dora  Social  Club,  of  San  Fran- 
ci Cal.    J.  J.  Cohn,  George  Dreck,  i  ;»•.  irge  Ro- 
senberg, S.  Michels.     Other  nieiiil" -r-  are   i 
Hlanchard,  Al   Williams,  Aaron  Lewis.  Da\  •     and 

1 1     MI.I  M  Caro.      Its  object  is  si  trial  a  III  us<'  in.  -lit.  and 
it  would  like  members  from  all  parts  of  the  globe. 
chapter  address.  6G9  McAllister  Street. 
No.  693.— The  Margaret  Sangster  Chapter,  of  sa- 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 

lem.  Mass.     Bessie  Fabens,  Katherine  Wardwel), 
Grace  Oliver;  Eleanor  Little, 40  Chestnut  Street. 


s>    IK  in  I?  s.    $ 

No.  83.— DOUBLE  ACROSTIC. 

1.  Clotted  blood. 

2.  Smooth. 

3.  A  circle. 

4.  A  denomination  of  money. 

5.  Superficial  contents. 
0.  Time  of  day. 

7.  An  enclosure. 

The  initials  and  finals,  read  downward,  give  the 
names  of  two  countries.  SIMON  T.  STERN. 

No.  84.— AN  EAST  DIAMOND. 
1.  A  letter.    2.  A  verb.    3.  To  crush.    4.  A  verb. 
5.  A  letter.  ADA  JEMPSON. 

No.  85.— A  RIDDLE. 
Animal,  nor  vegetable, 

Nor  mineral  am  I ; 
A  natural  product,  1  exist 

From  two  to  six  feet  high. 
I  am  not  she,  I  am  not  lie, 

But  just  between  the  two. 
You'll  often  see  me  take  my  place, 

And  sometimes  hear  me  too. 
I  have  no  breadth,  I  have  no  length, 

I'm  neither  thin  nor  thick, 
I'm  used  to  show  a  faithful  love, 

And  mark  a  traitor's  trkk. 
I'm  mentioned  oft  in  Holy  Writ. 

Both  in  the  Old  and  New, 
And  strongly  recommended  there 

By  holy  men  and  true.  J.  M.  C. 

No.  86. 

My  first  is  in  house,  but  not  in  barn, 
My  second  is  in  sock,  but  not  in  darn, 
My  third  is  iu  love,  but  not  in  hate, 
My  fourth  is  in  worm,  but  not  in  bait, 
My  fifth  is  in  eight,  but  not  in  six, 
My  last's  iu  slab,  and  likewise  iu  sticks, 
My  whole  an  author  is  whose  name  and  worth 
Are  known  and  cherished  over  all  the  earth. 

HORACE  F.  MAYOR. 

*  *  * 

Answers  to  Kinks  in  No.  808. 

King,  French,  Swett,  Bangs,  Sangster,  Hender- 
son, Patterson,  Stuart,  Pyle,  Lillie,  Munroe,  Curtis, 
Otis,  Gibson,  Brooks. 

Priscilla.  

BOTS'  NAMES. 

1.  Sam,  2.  Lew,  3.  Adam,  4.  Ed,  5.  Rob,  6.  George, 
T.  Andy,  8.  Andrew,  9.  Dan.  10.  Lee. 

*  *  * 

College  Veils  and  Colors. 

The  TABLE  is  indebted  to  many  members  for  re- 
plies to  the  question  asked  by  "  M.  T."  about  col- 
lege and  yells  colors. 

Amlierst.— "  Rah!  Rahl  Rah!  Rah!  Rah!  Raul  Arn- 
herst!" — Purple  and  white. 

Annapolis.— Navy  blue  and  old-gold. 

Bowdoin.— "B-o-w-d-o-i-n  Rah,  Rah,  Rah."  — 
White. 

Hamilton.— "Rahl  rah!  rahl  Hatn-il-ton,  zip  rah 
boom!" — Rose  pink. 

Johns  Hopkins.—"  Hullaballoo.  Kanuck,  Kanuckl 
Hullaballoo, Kanuck.Kauuck!  Hoorah!  Iloorab;  J. 
H.  U.I"— Black  and  blue. 

Lafayette.— "Rah!  Rah!  Rah!  Tiger  Lafayette!" 
— Maroon  and  white. 

Lehigh.— "  Hoo,  ray  rayl  Hoo,  ray  ray!  Ray  ray 
ray.  Lehigh!'' — Brown  and  white. 

Lelaud  Stanford  Junior  University. — "Rah-Rah- 
Rah  (three  times)  Stanford!" — Cardinal. 

Oberlin.— "Hi!-O!-Hi!-O!-Hi-O!-lIi!-Hi!-O!  Hi!  O- 
ber-lin!" — Crimson  and  gold. 

University  of  Alabama.  — "  Rah.  hoo,  ree!  Univer- 
sitee!  Rah,  boo]  Wan,  hoo!  A.  C.  U.I"— Crimson  and 
white. 

University  of  California.—"  Rah!  Rah!  Rahl  Call- 
forn-i-a-U.  C.  Berk -lee  Zip-Boom-ah!" — Blue  and 
gold. 

University  of  Chicago.— "Chi-ca-go!  Chi-ca-gol 
Chi-ca-go  go!  Go-it-Chi-ca!  Go-it-Chi-ca!  Go-it-Chi- 
ea  li"!" — Maroon. 

518 


University  of.Michigan.— "U.  of  M.  Hurrah!  Hur- 
rah! Hoo-rali!  Hoo-rah!  Micliigaru  Michigan!  rah! 
rah!  rah!"— Maize  and  blue. 

University  of  Pennsylvania.— "  Rah:  Kalii  Kali: 
Penn-syl-vani-alil"  (seldom  used).  "'Hay!  'Ray! 
'Ray!  Pemi-syl-vani-a!"  (short  and  sharp).  This  is 
the  most  common  form.  "  Hoo-rah!  Hoo-rah!  Hoo- 
rah! Penn-syl-va-ui-ah-h-h!"  Each  syllable  is 
strongly  accented, aud  the  "ah"  prolonged. 

Following  are  sporadic,  borrowed  from  no  one 
knows  where- 

THE  OI.LT-KAZOOK. 

Olly-kazook-Alack!  Alack! 
Olly-kazook-AIack!  Alack! 
Hoorahl  Hoorahl  Penn-syl-va-ni  ahl 

THE  OWSKI-WOW-WOW.  v 
Owski-wow-wowl 
Whisky-wow- wo  wl 
Holy-niuckeli! 
Kentuckyi! 
PennsylvanyiJ 

These  last  two  are  not  the  Pennsylvania  yells, 
strictly  speaking,  but  they  are  used  at  nearly  all 
games,  etc.,  for  a  change  now  and  then.  Another 
prime  favorite  is  a  melancholy  chant. 

"Oh  me!  Oh  my!  How  we  blacked  the  Tiger's 
eye!"  The  colors  are  red  and  blue. 

University  of  Vermont. — "  Rail,  rah,  rah,  rah,  r;ih, 
rah!  U.  V.  M.I  rah, rah!" — Straw  and  darkgreen. 

University  of  Virginia. — "Rah-rah-rah,  Uni-v! 
Rah-rah-rah,  ver-si-tee!  Ver-gin-i-a!" — Navy  blue 
and  orange. 

Vanderbilt.— "  Vanderbilt,  Rah,  Rah,  Rah!  Whiz 
Booml  Zip-Boom,  Rah,  Rah,  Rah!"— Black  aud  old- 
gold. 

Vassal1.— Rose  and  gray 

Wesleyan. — "  Rah,  Rah,  Rah  Rah,  Wes-lei-an-a! 
Rah  Rah  Rah  Rah  Rahl"— Cardinal  and  black. 

West  Point.— "Rahl  Rahl  Rayl  Rahl  Rah!  Ray! 
West  Point!  West  Poiutl  Armay!"— Black  and 
gray. 

Thanks  are  due  to  the  following  for  the  informa- 
tion given.  Grant  Knaiiff,  Jim,,  F  M.  E.,  R.  II., 
Clara  Rompano,  Harold  Simonds,  R.  C.  Wente, 
Dudley  S.  Steele,  A.  D.  J.,  Isabelle  Willis,  B.  F.  E. 
Lantie  V.  Blum,  Harry  B.  Reese,  and  V  J.  Smith. 


Want  Corner. 

Samuel  Ever*,  Samliford,  Philadelphia,  sends  the 
TABLE  an  account  of  a  tiip  which  he  and  about 
twenty  youn^  friends  made  to  New  York  last  win- 
ter. His  account  is  admirably  written.  His  gram- 
mar, construction,  and  penmanship  are  away 
above  the  average  for  his  age.  He  tells  about 
visits  made  by  his  jolly  party  to  the  Art  Must-urn, 
to  an  ocean  ship,  and  many  other  places.  We  do 
not  print  his  letter  in  full,  because  lie  dt^rt  ihc< 
sights  that  are  already  quite  familhir,  by  descrip- 
tion at,  least.  We  know  his  party  had  a  t:ood 
time,  for  it  called  at  Franklin  Square,  and  a  look 
at  the  jolly  faces  demonstrated  it.  Sir  Samuel  be- 
longs to  a  Chapter  which  wants  correspondents 
everywhere,|especially  about  moths,  mint-nils,  and 
flowers.  Write  him  for  names  of  individual  mem- 
bers. You  can  get  some  good  correspondents 
among  them  of  both  sexes. 

Harrie  O.  Bender,  5903  Tulip  Street,  Wissinoming, 
Philadelphia,  Station  F,,  is,  we  think,  a  member  of 
the  same  Chapter  as  the  preceding— the  Sylvia. 
At  any  rate,  the  Sylvia  has  the  same  wants.  It 
seeks  to  make  a  collection  of  pressed  flowers  from 
all  over  the  world.  Won't  you  help  it?  Of  course 
it  "t.Mids  flowers  in  return.  Hubbard  Marsh  asks 
how  to  cure  the  skins  of  small  animals.  Won't 
some  member  ask  a  taxidermist  and  send  the  in- 
formation in  the  form  of  a  TABLE  morsel?  -We 
will  print  it  with  due  acknowledgment  and  thanks. 
The  TABLE  is  in  receipt  of  a  long  letter  from  its 
old  friend,  Janet  Cowley,  whose  present  address  is 
care  W.  E.  Moxon,  Bungalow,  Shfrwuod  Road, 
Toowong,  Brisbane,  Queensland,  Australia.  Writ- 
ing in  January,  she  says  the  weather  is  oppressively 
hot — such  is  the  difference  in  seasons.  She  also 
says  that  the  Table's  other  Kamerunga  friend, 
Constance  Smith,  is  married  and  living  in  Sydney. 
Lady  Janet  promises  to  answer  all  her  American 
correspondents  as  early  as  their  number  and  her 
tiiiu-  permits. 


HAEPEE'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Any  questions  in  reiirtnl  to  photograph  injttt?rs  will  tie  willingly 
answcreil  i>v  the  eiliti'r  of  this  column,  and  we  slnml.1  be  glad  to  hear 
from  any  ut'our  club  \vlio  can  make  helpful  suggestions. 

IT  is  a  fortunate  thing  for  the  would-be 
amateur  photographer  that  a  dark-room, 
used  exclusively  for  photographic  work,  is 
not  oue  of  the  "must-haves"  of  photog- 
raphy. If  it  were,  there  would  douhtless  be 
vrry  few  amateurs,  especially  among  the 
young  people. 

To  make  the  work  of  arranging  a  tempo- 
rary dark-room  simple  and  easy,  the  mate- 
rials should  be  kept  all  together  and  in  as 
compart  a  form  as  possible.  For  storing 
the  ehemirals  and  trays  a  wooden  box  eigh- 
teen inches  Ibug,  twelve  inches  wide,  and 
eight  or  ten  inches  high  will  be  found  a 
convenient  size  for  holding  all  the  material 
necessary  to  use  for  developing. 

A  rack  to  hold  the  bottles  should  be 
made  of  a  piece  of  halt-inch  board  half  the 
si/.r  of  the  bottom  of  the  box.  In  this 
board  cut  boles  the  size  of  the  bottles  con- 
taining the  solutions  for  developing.  Fasten 
this  board  securely  to  the  inside  of  the  box, 
about  four  inches  from  the  bottom.  The 
bottles  will  tit  in  the  holes,  and  there  will 
be  no  danger  of  breaking  or  spilling  their 
contents  when  carrying  it  from  one  place 
to  another.  Square  bottles  should  be  used 
for  the  hypo,  ami  round  bottles  for  the  de- 
velopers. Five  bottles  will  be  enough  for 
the  chemicals — one  for  the  hypo,  one  for  old 
and  one  for  new  developer,  one  for  the  re- 
strainer,  and  one  for  the  accelerator.  Have, 
the  labels  on  the  bottles  large  and  distinct, 
and  make  the  box  on  the  outside  "  Pol- 
SONS." 

The  trays  can  be  placed  one  inside  the 
other  ami  put  into  the  box  by  the  side  of 
the  bottles.  The  glass  funnel  should  be 
turned  over  the  top  of  one  of  the  bottles, 
and  unless  the  lantern,  is  an  extra  size, 
tliere  will  be  plenty  of  room  to  set  it  in  the 
box.  Nail  a  strip  of  leather  across  the  box 
for  a  handle.  A  piece  of  board  an  inch  or 
two  larger  all  round  than  the  top  of  the 
box  will  serve  for  a  cover  when  the  box  is 
not  in  use. 

With  one's  materials  in  this  convenient 
and  portable  form  it  is  a  simple  matter  to 
get  ready  for  developing,  and  when  one  has 
finished  it  is  but  a  moment's  work  to  re- 
plaee  the  materials  and  put,  them  away. 
This  plau  of  storing  materials  not. only 
saves  a  great  deal  of  time  and  trouble,  but 
often  prevents  mistakes  in  developing. 

In  preparing  for  developing  get  every- 
thing ready  before  the  plates  are  taken  into 
tin-  chirk-room.  Always  be  particular  to 
place  the  hypo  trays  in  the  same  place 
eaeh  time  you  develop  plates,  and  you  will 
never  make  the  mistake  of  putting  a  nega- 
tive into  the  hypo  instead  of  the  developer. 

Keep  all  the  trays  and  bottles  wiped 
clean.  The  trays  should  be  thoroughly 
rinsed  each  time  after  using,  so  that  no 
trace  of  hypo  from  the  fixing  tray  may  come 
in  contact  with  the  developing  tray. 

The  amateur  more  than  perhaps  any 
other  person  .should  cultivate  habits  of 
neatness,  carefulness,  and  exactness. 


IVORY  5  GAP 


IT  FLOATS 


At  all  grocery  stores  east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  two  sizes  of  Ivory  Soap 
are  sold ;  one  that  costs  five  cents  a  cake,  and  a.  larger  size.  The  larger  cake  is  the 
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-kTen  Old  Songs. 

THE  brief  list  given  below  names 
ten  songs  from  each  Number  of  the 
Franklin  Square  Song  Collection. 
This  is  only  one-twentieth,  by  the 
Arithmetic,  of  the  round  Two  Hun- 
dred to  be  found  in  each  Number,  or 
of  the  Sixteen  Hundred  in  the  Eight 
Numbers  thus  far  issued. 

ISO.  I.  All  Together,  Annie  Laurie,  Blue  Bells 
of  Scotland,  Bonnie  Doon.  Columbia,  the  Gem  of 
the  ocean  ;  Home,  Sweet  Home  ;  Last  Rose  of  Sum- 
mer, Long,  Long  Ago ;  Old  Oaken  Bucket,  \Vhen' 
the  Swallows  Homeward  Fly. 

ISO.  2.  Flow  Gently,  Sw*t  Afton  ;  Ever  of 
Thee,  Juanita.  Kathleen  Mavourneen,  Killamey, 
Mary  of  Argyle,  Speak  Gently,  The  Long  Weary 
Day,  Twickenham  Ferry,  What  is  Home  without  a 
Mother  ? 

No.  3.  Ah  !  I  have  Sighed  to  Rest  Me,  A  Life 
on  the  Ocean  Wave,  Be  Kind  to  the  Loved  Ones  at 
Home.  Blue  Juiiiata;  Chime  Again,  Beautiful  Bells; 
Do  They  Miss  Me  at  Home?  In  Happy  Moments 
Old  House  at  Home,  Rain  Upon  the  Roof,  The  Va- 
cant Chair. 

I<Jo.  4.  Dublin  Bay,  Happy  Are  We  To-Night, 
Boys  :  Keller's  America'n  Hymn,  Ossian's  Serenade, 
Rock  Me  to  Sleep,  Mother ;  Search  Through  the 
Wide  World,  Sweeter  than  the  Breath  of  Morning, 
Trancadillo,  When  the  Bloom  is  on  the  Rye. 

!>JO.  5.  All  Among  the  Barley,  Ben  Bolt,  Fair 
Land  of  Poland,  Home  Again,  Maryland,  My  Mary- 
land •  Speed,  My  Bark  ;  Thou  Art  So  Near  and  Yet 
So  Far  ;  Tramp,  Tramp,  Tramp  ;  When  I  Come; 
Within  this  Sacred  Dwelling. 

Ko.  6.  Alice  Gray,  Andreas  Hofer,  Eyes  So 
Blue  and  Dreaming,  Faded  Flowers,  Listen  to  the 
Mocking  Bird,  Jamie's  on  the  Stormy  Sea.  M-  "  < 
Harlech,  Rockaway,  She  Wore  a  Wreath  of  Roses, 
Tenting  on  the  Old  Camp  Ground. 

ISO.  7.    Cousin  Jedediah,  Gentle  Annie,  Hark, 
I  Hear  an  Angel  Sing.  Irish  Emigrant's  Lament, 
Touch  the  Harp  Gently,   Love's   Golden    Dream  : 
The  Years  Creep  Slowly  by,  Lorcna  ;  O  Give  Me  bi 
My  Arab  Steed,  The  Star  of  Gleugary. 

!«Jo.  8.    Chimes  of  Zurich,  Flow,  Rio  Verde; 
There's  a  Good  Time  Coming,  I'd  Weep  wn 
Lone  Starrv  Hours,  Lovely  Nancy,  Johnny  Schmc 
ker,  Mermaid's  Evening  Song.  Old  Easy  C.: 
the  Fire,  The  German  Fatherland. 
*s.»Sold   Everywhere.     Price,  50  ceiu 
cents;   Cloth,  $1.00.      Full  contents 
Numbers,  with  Specimen  Pages  of  fa 
and  Hymns  sent,  without  cost,  to  an 

Harper  &  Brothers,  Xew  York 


519 


<&•-!*  •-       •-    j  #;  ,.>\\    t* 


OPENING    OF    THE  CIRCUS    SEASON. 

AN    ACT    "NOT    ]K)WN    ON   THE    HILLS." 


IT  DIDN'T  WORK. 

IT  isn't  always  safe  for  a  small  boy  to  take  liis  father's 
jokes  and  games  too  seriously.  This  was  shown  very 
plainly  at  one  time  by  the  experience  of  an  Englishman 
and  his  son  upon  a  railway  journey  which  they  took  to- 
gether. While  the  little  fellow  was  gazing  out  of  the  open 
window  his  father  slipped  the  hat  off  the  boy's  head  in  such 
a  way  as  to  make  his  son  believe  that  it  had  fallen  out  of  the 
window.  The  buy  was  very  much  upset  by  his  supposed 
loss,  when  his  father  consoled  him  by  saying  that  he  would 
*'  whistle  it  back."  A  little  later  he  whistled,  and  the  hat 
reappeared.  Not  long  after  the  little  lad  seized  upon  his 
father's  hut.  and  Hinging  it  ont  of  the  window,  shouted, 
4'  Now,  papa,  whistle  your  hat  back  again  !" 


A  DAINTY  FOR  ELEPHANTS. 

IF  there  is  anything  in  the  world  that  an  elephant  loves 
better  than  a  peanut  it  is  an  orange,  and  if  any  boy  who 
reads  this  wishes,  when  he  goes  to  the  circus,  to  give  the 
massive  creature  au  especial  treat,  instead  of  paying  five 
•cents  for  a  bag  of  peanuts  to  put  in  the  elephant's  trunk. 
let  him  purchase  for  the  same  money  one  good-sized  orange, 
and  present  that  to  the  small-eyed,  flat-eared  monster.  A 
number  of  years  ago,  in  a  book  which  was  called  Leaves 
from  Hie  Life  of  a  Special  Correspondent,  Mr.  O'Shea,  the  au- 
thor of  the  book,  gave  the  following  description  of  an  ad- 
venture he  had  with  a  herd  of  elephants.  Said  he:  "A 
young  friend  asked  me  once  to  show  him  some  elephants, 
and  I  took  him  along  with  me,  having  first  borrowed  an 
apron  and  filled  it  with  oranges.  This  he  was  to  carry 
whilst  accompanying  me  in  tin-  stable,  but  the  moment  we 
reached  the  door  the  herd  set  up  such  a  trumpeting — they 
had  scented  the  fruit — that  he  dropped  the  apron  and  its 
contents,  and  scuttled  ott'  like  a  scared  rabbit.  There  were 
«ight  elephants,  and  when  I  picked  up  the  oranges  I  found 
I  had  twenty-live.  I  walkVd  deliberately  along  the  line, 
giving  one  to  each.  When  I  got  to  the  extremity  nf  the 
narrow  stable  1  turned,  and  w:is  about  to  begin  the  dis- 
tribution again,  when  I  suddenly  reflected  that  it' elephant 
No.  7  in  the  row  saw  me  give  two  oranges  in  succession  to 
No.  8  he  might  imagine  he  was  being  cheated,  and  give  me 
a  smack  with  his  trunk — that  is  where  the  elephant  falls 
short  of  the  human  being — so  I  went  to  the  door  and  began 
at  the  beginning  as  before.  Thrice  I  went  along  the  line, 
-and  then  I  was  in  a  lix.  1  had  one  orange  left,  and  I  had 


to  get  back  to  the  door.  Every  elephant  in  the  herd  had 
his  greedy  gaze  focussed  on  that  orange.  It  was  as  much 
as  my  life  was  worth  to  give  it  to  any  one  of  them.  What 
was  I  to  do?  1  held  it  up  conspicuously,  coolly  peeled  it, 
and  ate  it  myself.  It  was  most  amusing  to  notice  the  way 
those  elephants  nudged  each  other  and  shook  their  ponder- 
ous sides.  They  thoroughly  entered  into  the  humor  of  the 
thing."  " 

ARITHMETIC. 

MAMMA.  "  Suppose  yon  have  four  apple-dumplings, Willie, 
and  you  eat  three,  then  what  do  you  have?", 
WILLIE.  "  Nightmare." 

IN  MEMORIAM. 

Mv  broken  soldiers,  made  of  lead, 
Are  buried  in  the  garden  bed, 
And  lovely  flowers  o'er  them  play, 
For  this  is  Decoration  day. 


TOMMY'S  PROGRESS. 

MAMMA.  "  Yon  may  open  your  school  report,  Tommy,  and 
tell  me  how  you  have  been  doing  this  week." 

TOMMY.  "  Oh,  here  is  the  highest  mark,  mamma,  a  1." 
MAMMA.  "  And  what  is  that  for,  Tommy  ?" 
TOMMY  "Days  absent,!." 


JOHNNY'S   COUNTING. 

JOHNNY.  "  Mamma,  I  can  count  all  the  way  np  to  twelve." 
MAMMA.  "And  what  comes  after  twelve,  Johnny  .'" 
JOHNNY.  "  Recess." 


AN  APPEAL. 

"PAPA,"  said  Jennie,  climbing  upon  her  father's  knee, 
"don't  you  think  that 'stead  o' ten  cents  a  week  you  could 
give  me  fifteen  ?" 

"  Well,  1  don't  know,  my  dear,"  was  the  answer.  "  AVhat 
do  you  want  of  the  extra  five  cents?" 

"I  thought  my  dollie  was  old  enough  to  have  a  'lowauce, 
and  I  want  to  give  it  to  her." 

A   POSSIBLE   EXPLANATION. 

'•I  KNOW  how  Columbus  made  that  egg  stand  up," said 
Wilbur.  "  He  had  it  hatched  first." 


520 


HARPERS 


ROUND  TABLE 


Copyright,  1895,  by  HARPKR  &  BROTHERS.     Alt  Rights  Reserved. 


PUBLISHED    WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI.— NO.  812. 


NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY.  MAY  21,  1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY, 
TWO    DOLLAH8    A    YEAR. 


I 


HEROES     OF     AMERICA. 

THE  DEATH  OF  STOXEWALL  JACKSON. 


BY    THE   HONORABLE  TIIEODOKE   ROOSEVELT. 


OKRIBLE  though  the  civil  war  was, 
heartrending  though  it  was  that 
brother  should  tight  against  bro- 
ther, there  remains  as  au  offset 
the  glory  that  has  accrued  to  the 
uation  by  the  countless  deeds  of 
heroism  performed  by  both  sides 
in  the  struggle.  The  captains  and 
the  armies  who  after  long  years 
of  dreary  campaigning  and  bloody, 
stubborn  lighting  brought  the  war 
to  n  close  have  left  us  more  than  a  reunited  realm. 

North  and  South,  all  Americans  now  have  a  common 
fund  of  glorious  memories.  We  are  the  richer  for  eaeh 
grim  campaign,  for  each  hard-fought  battle.  \Ve  arc'  the 
richer  for  valor  displayed  alike  by  those  \\lio  fought  so 
•valiantly  for  the.  right,  and  by  those  who  no  less  valiantly 
fought  for  what  they  deemed  the  right.  We  have  in  us 
nobler  capacities  for  what  is  great  and  good  because  of  the 


infinite  woe  and  suffering,  and  because  of  the  splendid 
ultimate  triumph.  We  hold  that  it  was  vital  to  the  wel- 
fare not  only  of  our  people  on  this  continent  but  of  the 
whole  human  race  that  the  Union  should  be  preserved  and 
slavery  abolished;  that  one  flag  should  tly  from  the  Great 
Lakes  to  the  Rio  Grande,  that  we  should  all  be  free  in  fact 
as  well  as  in  name,  and  that  the  United  States  should 
stand  as  one  nation,  the  greatest  nation  on  the  earth  ;  but 
we  recognize  gladly  that  South  as  well  as  North,  when  the 
light  was  once  on,  the  leaders  of  the  armies,  and  the  sol- 
diers whom  they  led,  displayed  the  same  qualities  of  daring 
and  .steadfast  courage,  of  disinterested  loyalty  and  enthu- 
siasm, and  of  high  devotion  to  an  ideal. 

The  greatest  general  of  the  South  was  Lee,  and  his 
greatest  lieutenant  was  Jackson.  Both  were  Virginians, 
and  both  were  strongly  opposed  to  disunion.  Lee  went 
no  far  as  to  deny  the  right  of  secession;  while  Jackson  in- 
sisted that  the  South  ought  to  try  to  get  its  rights  inside 
the  Union,  aud  not  outside;  but  when  Virginia  joined  the 


HARPEK'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Smith. TII  Confederacy,  and  the  war  had  actually  begnu, 
linlh  men  cast  their  lot  willi  (lie  South. 

It.  is  ol'tm  said  lh:it  thr  civil  war  was  in  one  sense  a 
repetition  of  I  lie  old  struggle  between  the  Puritan  and 
the  Cav  -alicr:  lint  J'nrilaii  and  Cavalier  types  were  com- 
mon to  i he  two  armies.  In  dash  and  light-hearted  daring 

Cn-tei-  ami  Kearny  stood  as  c >piciimis  as  Stuart  and 

Morgan:  ami. nn  the  other  hand,  no  Northern  general  ap- 
proached the  liiinndhcad  tvpc.ihe  t.vpe  of  the.  stern  re- 
ligion- warriors  who  fought  under  Cromwell,  so  closely  as 
si  i  in'1  \\  a  il  Jacksou. 

He  was  a  man  of  intense  religions  conviction,  who  car- 
ried into  every  thought  and  deed  of  his  daily  life  the  pre- 
cepts and  the  convictions  of  the  faith  he  cherished.  He 
•was  a  tender  and  loving  hushaiid  and  father,  kind-hearted 
and  gentle  to  all  with  whom  lie  was  brought  in  contact. 
Yet  iu  the  times  that  tried  men's  souls  he  showed  himself 
to  he  not  only  a  commander  of  genius,  but  a  tighter  of  iron 
•will  and  temper,  who  joyed  in  the  battle,  and  always 
showed  at  his  best  when  the  danger  was  greatest.  The 
vein  of  fanaticism  that  ran  through  his  character  helped 
to  render  him  a  terrible  opponent.  He  knew  no  such  word 
as  falter,  and  when  he  had  once  put  his  hand  to  a  piece  of 
•work  he  did  it  thoroughly  and  with  all  his  heart.  It  was 
quite  in  keeping  with  his  character  that  this  gentle,  high- 
minded,  and  religions  man  should  early  in  the  contest 
have  proposed  to  hoist  the  black-Hag,  neither  take  nor  give 

quarter,  and  make  the  war •  of  extermination.  No  such 

policy  was  practical  in  the  nineteenth  century  and  in  the 
American  Republic;  but  it  would  have  seemed  quite  nat- 
ural and  proper  to  Jackson's  ancestors,  the  grim  Scotch- 
Irish  who  defended  Londonderry  against  the  forces  of  the 
Stuart  King,  or  to  their  forefathers,  the  Covenanters  of 
Scotland,  aud  the  Puritans  who  in  England  rejoiced  at  the 
beheading  of  King  Charles  the  First. 

In  the  first  battle  in  which  Jackson  took  part,  the  con- 
fused struggle  at  Bull  Run,  he  gained  his  name  of  Stone- 
wall from  the  firmness  with  which  he  kept  his  men  to  their 
work  and  repulsed  the  attack  of  the  Union  troops.  From 
that  time  until  his  death,  less  than  two  years  afterwards, 
hi.s  career  was  one  of  brilliant  and  almost  uninterrupted 
success,  whether  serving  with  an  independent  command 
in  the  Valley,  or  acting  under  Lee  as  his  right  arm  in  the 
pitched  battles  with  MeG'lellan,  1'ope.  and  Burnside.  Few 
generals  as  great  as  Lee  have  ever  had  as  great  a  lieu- 
tenant as  Jackson.  lie  was  a  master  of  strategy  and  tac- 
tics, fearless  of  responsibility,  able  to  instil  into  his  men 
his  own  intense  ardor  of  battle  ;  and  so  quirk  iu  his  move- 
ments, so  ready  to  march  as  well  as  tight,  that  his  troops 
were  known  to  the  rest  of  the  army  a.-  the  "  foot  cavalry." 

In  the  spring  of  1863  Hooker  had  command  of  the  Army 
of  the  Potomac.  Like  McClellau,he  was  able  to  perfect 
the  discipliue  of  his  forces  aud  to  organize  them,  and  as  a 
division  commander  he  was  better  than  McClellan  ;  but  he 
failed  even  more  signally  when  given  a  great  independent 
command.  He  had  under  him  120,000  men  when,  toward 
the  end  of  April,  he  prepared  to  attack  Lee's  army,  which 
was  bnt  half  as  strong. 

The  Union  army  lay  opposite  Fredericksburg, looking  at 
the  fortified  heights  where  they  had  received  so  bloody  a 
repulse  at  the  beginning  of  the  winter.  Hooker  decided 
to  distract  the  attention  of  the  Confederates  by  letting  a 
small  portion  of  his  force,  under  General  Sedgwick,  attack 
Fredericksburg,  while  he  himself  took  the  bulk  of  the  army 
across  the  river  to  the  right  hand  so  as  to  crush  Lee  by  an 
attack  on  his  flank.  All  went  well  at  the  beginning,  and 
on  the  1st  of  May  Hooker  found  himself  at  Chancel- 
lorsville  face  to  face  with  the  bulk  of  Lee's  forces;  and 
Sedgwick,  crossiug  the  river  aud  charging  with  the  utmost 
determination,  had  driven  out  of  Fredericksburg  the  Con- 
federate division  of  Early  ;  but  when  Hooker  found  himself 
face  to  face  with  Lee  he  hesitated,  faltered  instead  of  push- 
ing on,  and  allowed  the  consummate  general  to  whom  he 
was  opposed  to  himself  take  the  initiative. 

Lee  fully  realized  his  danger,  and  saw  that  his  only 
chance  was  to  attempt,  first  to  beat  back  Hooker,  and  then 
to  turn  and  overwhelm  Sedgwick,  who  was  iu  his  rear,  lie 
consulted  with  Jacksou,  and  Jackson  begged  to  be  allowed 


to  make  one  of  his  favorite-  Hank  attacks  upon  the  Union 
army;  attacks  which  could  have  beeu  successfully  deliv- 
ered only  by  a  skilled  and  resolute  general,  and  by  troops 
equally  able  to  inarch  and  to  tight.  Lee  consented,  and 
Jackson  at  once  made  off.  The  country  was  thickly  cov- 
ered with  a  forest  of  rather  small  growth,  for  it  was  a  wild 
region,  in  which  there  was  still  plenty  of  game.  Shielded 
by  the  forest,  Jackson  marched  his  gray  columns  rapidly  to 
the  left  along  the  narrow  country  roads  until  he  got  square 
on  the  flank  of  the  Union  right  wing,  which  was  held  by 
the  Eleventh  Corps,  under  Howard.  The  Union  scouts  got 
track  of  the  movement  and  reported  it  at  headquarters;  but 
the  Union  generals  thought  the  Confederates  were  retreat- 
ing ;  and  when  finally  the  scouts  brought  word  to  Howard 
that  he  was  menaced  by  a  flank  attack  he  paid  no  heed  to 
the  information,  and  actually  let  his  whole  corps  be  sur- 
prised in  broad  daylight.  Yet  all  the  while  the  battle  was 
going  on  elsewhere,  and  Berdan's  sharpshooters  had  sur- 
rounded and  raptured  a  Georgia  regiment,  from  which  in- 
formation was  received  which  showed  definitely  that  Jack- 
son was  not  retreating,  and  must  be  preparing  to  strike  a 
heavy  blow. 

The  Eleventh  Corps  had  not  the  slightest  idea  that  it 
was  about  to  be  attacked.  The  men  were  not  even  in  line. 
Many  of  them  had  stacked  their  muskets  and  were  loung- 
ing about,  some  playing  cards,  others  cooking  supper,  inter- 
mingled with  the  pack-mules  aud  beef  cattle.  While  they 
were  thus  utterly  unprepared  Jackson's  gray-clad  veterans 
pushed  straight  through  the  forest,  and  rushed  fiercely  to 
the  attack.  The  first  notice  the  troops  of  the  Eleventh 
Corps  received  did  not  come  from  the  pickets,  but  from  the 
deer,  rabbits,  aud  foxes  which,  fleeing  from  their  coverts  at 
the  approach  of  the  Confederates,  suddenly  came  running 
over  and  into  the  Union  lines.  In  another  minute  the  fright- 
ened pickets  came  tumbling  back. and  right  behind  them 
came  the  long  lines  of  charging,  yelling  Confederates.  With 
one  fierce  rush  Jackson's  men  swept  over  the  Union  lines, 
and  at  a  blow  the.  Eleventh  Corps  became  a  horde  of  panic- 
stricken  fugitives.  Some  of  the  regiments  resisted  for  a  few 
moments,  and  then  they  too  were  carried  away  in  the 
flight. 

For  a  time  it  seemed  as  if  the  whole  army  would  be 
swept  oft';  but  Hooker  and  his  subordinates  exerted  ev- 
ery effort  to  restore  order.  It  was  imperative  to  gain 
time,  so  that  the  untouched  portions  of  the  army  eojild 
form  across  the  line  of  the  Confederate  advance.  Keeuan's 
regiment  of  Pennsylvania  cavalry,  but  four  hundred  sabres 
strong,  was  accordingly  sent  full  against  the  front  of  the 
ten  thousand  victorious  Confederates.  Keenan  himself  fell 
riddled  by  bayonets,  and  the  charge  was  repulsed  at  once; 
but  a  few  priceless  moments  had  been  saved,  and  Pleason- 
tou  had  been  given  time  to  post  twenty-two  guns, loaded 
with  double  canister,  where  they  would  bear  upon  the 
enemy.  The  Confederates  advanced  iu  a  dense  mass,  yell- 
iug  and  cheering,  and  the  discharge  of  the  guns  fairly 
blew  them  back  across  the  works  they  had  just  taken. 
Again  they  charged,  and  again  were  driven  back,  and  when 
the  battle  once  more  began  the  Union  re-euforcemeuts  had 
arrived. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  Jackson  himself  was  mortal- 
ly wounded.  He  had  been  leading  and  urging  on  the  ad- 
vance  of  his  men, cheering  them  -with  voice  and  gesture, 
his  pale  face  flushed  with  joy  and  excitement,  while  from 
time  to  time  as  he  sat  on  his  horse  he  took  off  his  hat  and, 
looking  upward, thanked  Heaven  for  the  victory  it  had 
vouchsafed  him.  As  darkness  drew  near  he  was  in  the 
front,  where  friend  and  foe  were  mingled  in  almost  inex- 
tricable confusion.  He  and  his  staff  were  fired  on  at  close 
range  by  the  Union  troops,  and,  as  they  turued,  were  fired 
on  again,  through  a  mistake,  by  the  Confederates  behind 
them.  Jackson  fell,  struck  iu  several  places.  He  was  put 
in  a  litter  and  carried  back;  but  he  never  lost  conscious- 
in  -ss,  and  when  one  of  his  generals  complained  of  the  ter- 
rific effect  of  I  he  Union  cannonade  he  answered,  "  You  must 
hold  your  ground." 

For  several  days  he  lingered,  hearing  how  Lee  beat 
Hooker,  iu  detail,  aud  forced  him  back  across  the  river. 
Then  the  old  Puritan  died.  At  the  end  his  mind  wandered 


522 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


and  he  thought  he  was  again  commanding  in  battle;  and 
his  last  words  were,  "Let  us  cross  over  the  river  and  rest 
iu  the  shade."  Thus  perished  Stonewall  Jackson,  one  of 
the  ablest  of  soldiers  and  one  of  the  most  upright  of  men, 
in  the  last  of  his  many  triumphs. 


THE    SHIP  WITHOUT  A   LIGHT. 

BY  EZRA   HURLBURT  STAFFORD. 
"  "VTTELL,  my  boy,  what  can  I  do  for  yon  ?" 

W  It  was  in  the  Custom-house,  and  the  Chief  was 
sitting  at  his  desk  opening  a  letter.  A  boy  of  perhaps  six- 
teen was  standing  awkwardly  at  the  door.  He  was  dressed 
rather  roughly,  and  the  Customs  Inspector  thought  it  would 
be  a  good  idea  to  despatch  the  boy's  business  before  he 
read  the  letter,  which  he  had  by  this  time  drawn  from  the 
envelope. 

"Well?"  he  repeated;  but  tbe  boy  still  hesitated,  and 
glanced  uneasily  across  the  room  towards  a  tall  lady,  who 
was  standing  at  the  window  with  her  back  towards  him. 

"Anything  very  particular?"  the  officer  went  on,  with  a 
touch  of  annoyance. 

"  I  guess  I'd  like  to  speak  to  you  alone." 

The  lady  evidently  heard  him,  for  without  speaking  she 
hurriedly  drew  her  veil  down  over  her  face,  and  noiselessly 
left  the  room  by  a  door  which  he  had  not  noticed  before. 
The  boy  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  face  as  she  turned,  and 
gave  a  little  start,  lie  hardly  knew  why.  It  was  a  strange 
face. 

"Now,  then,  we  are  quite  alone,  what  have  you  to  say? 
It's  growing  late." 

"I  wanted  to  speak  to  you,  sir,  about  something  I  saw 
last  night  out  in  Puget  Sound.  I  thought  you  ought  to  be 
told  about  it." 

"Yes?" 

"A  boat,  sir,  that  I  think  is  smuggling  opium  iu  from 
the  British  Columbia  coast." 

"  What  is  your  name  ?" 

"Thomas  Walton.     I'm  a  fisherman." 

"What  makes  you  think  the  boat  is  smuggling  opium?" 

"  Because  she  passed  down  the  channel  about  two  o'clock 
last  night  and  carried  no  light." 

"  What  sort  of  a  craft  ?"  asked  the  customs  officer,  with  a 
peculiar  look. 

"I  should  think  she  was  a  sailing  sloop,  sir — I  couldn't 
see  noways  plain." 

"  Whrn  did  you  say?" 

"Last  night." 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it.    Where  do  you  live  ?" 

"At  my  father's  ranch  on  Padilla  Bay  ;  he's  dead, and  I 
live  with  my  mother  and  sister  there.  I  fish  during  the 
salmon  season." 

"  Were  you  alone  last  night  ?" 

"No ;  an  Indian  boy  and  myself  have  a  boat  between  us ; 
it  was  Jo  saw  her  first." 

"Well?" 

"We  were  tacking  across  the  channel,  and  it  was  very 
dark.  We  had  just  come  about,  and  suddenly  I  heard  a 
swish  iu  the  water  and  felt  something  a  yard  or  so  off 
sweeping  by.  I  couldn't  see  what  it  was  at  first.  It 
seemed  to  pass  iu  the  air.  Jo  heard  it  too,  and  we  were 
both  pretty  scared.  A  minute  after  it  was  light  for  an 
instant  and  we  got  sight  of  her,  a  few  yards  to  wind- 
ward of  us,  bending  under  her  sail.  Jo  pointed  her  out  to 
me,  and  thr  next  moment  she  seemed  to  disappear.  We 
got  into  port,  this  afternoon  very  late  with  our  fish,  and  as 
soon  as  I  could  I  came  to  tell  you." 

"  How  many  times  have  you  seen  this — this  ship  without 
alight?" 

"Just  the  once.  We  don't  carry  a  light  ourselves,  or  we 
mightn't  have  seen  her  this  time." 

"Where  was  this?" 

"To  the  south  of  Fidalgo  Island." 

"In  the  outer  channel?" 

"No,  right  below  the  slough,  to  the  inner  side  of  the 
island  and  the  main  shore." 


"Where  did  the  boat  seem  to  come  from  ?"  the  Inspector 
asked,  looking  straight  in  tin-  boy's  lace. 

"Well,  we  couldn't  exactly  be  sure;  but  Jo  seemed  to 
think  that  she  had  come  from  the  slough — that  was  what 
set  us  to  thinking  she  must  be  a  smuggler." 

"  Have  yon  told  anybody  about  this?" 

"  No." 

"Don't.     How  about  this  Indian  boy,  this  Si  wash  ?" 

"He  hasn't  said  a  word  about  it  to  any  one.  I  made 
him  keep  it  quiet  till  I  had  told  you." 

"  Sure  no  one  else  knows  ?" 

"No  one;  at  least  no  one  but  the  man  in  the  outer  office 
here." 

"  What  did  yon  tell  him  for  ?"  the  Chief  asked,  with  sud- 
den vexation. 

"He  wouldn't  let  me  in  till  I  told  him  what  I  wanted; 
he  said  yon  were  busy." 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened  and  a  man  in  uniform 
entered. 

"Ah,"  he  said,  glancing  at  the  boy,  "he's  told  you,  then. 
Had  we  better  put  any  confidence  in  the  tale?  I've  been 
speaking  to  the  Captain  of  the  Madrona  about  it.  He  is  in 
the  outer  office  now.  He  seems  to  think  there  is  something 
in  it." 

"You  may  go  now, "said  the  Chief,  with  a  preoccupied 
look,  to  the  boy;  "yon  had  better  go  right  home,  and  next 
time  carry  a  light  yourself.  Good-evening." 

"  I  am  sorry  you  let  the  boy  go,"  the  deputy  began,  as  the 
door  closed  ;  "  we  may  need  him  for  evidence.  But  here's 
the  Captain." 

A  tall  gentleman,  in  the  uniform  of  the  United  States 
navy,  entered  the  room  at  this  moment.  "  I've  been  hav- 
ing a  word  with  your  salmon-fisher,"  he  said,  "and  I  think 
he's  telling  the  truth.  I'll  catch  them  to-night  when  they're 
getting  back  north,  and  give  them  more  light  in  Puget 
Sound  than  they  will  find  altogether  convenient.  Where 
was  it  he  saw  them  now  ?" 

"I  don't  think  the  boy  said,"  I  he  deputy  answered.  "Did 
he  tell  you?"  and  he  turned  to  his  superior. 

"Yes, he  did,uow  I  recollect." 

"Was  it  iu  the  main  channel,  or  below  the  slough  to  the 
inside  of  the  island?" 

"  In  the  outer  channel ;  it  was  too  large  a  boat  to  get 
through  the  slough." 

"Why,  I  thought  lie  said  it  was  a  sailing  sloop,"  mused 
the  Captain,  turning  to  the  deputy. 

"  So  did  I." 

"No;  the  boy  told  me  distinctly, "the  Chief  replied,"  that 
it  was  a  much  larger  vessel,  and  that  she  passed  him  in  the 
outer  channel ;  though  candidly,  as  to  her  carrying  no  light, 
we  must  remember  that  boys  sometimes  have  wonderful 
imaginations." 

"Then  we'll  keep  the  main  channel;"  and  the  Captain 
left  the  room. 

Down  among  the  ships  in  the  harbor  a  small  boat  was 
moored.  It  had  all  the  unmistakable  signs  of  being  a  lish- 
iug-boat,  and  a  youth  with  a  large  round  face  of  a  heavy 
brown  mahoganj'  color  was  sitting  lazily  at  the  edge  of  the 
wharf,  when  Thomas  Walton  made  his  appearance.  They 
both  got  into  the  boat  and  pushed  from  the  dock.  It  was 
growing  quite  dusk.  The  harbor  lights  were  already  lit. 

"You  told  them, Tom?" 

"Yes." 

"What  did  they  think?" 

"I  hardly  know.  I  wish  now  I  hadu't  gone  near  them 
at  all." 

"Didn't  they  treat  you  white?" 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  You  don't  ?" 

•'  Well,  they  didn't  seem  to  believe  what  I  said,  anyway. 
And  there's  something  else  I  don't  like  the  looks  of." 

-What  else?" 

"  Oh,  nothing  much.  I  think  I  was  followed  down  to  the 
wharf.  Look  over  there.  Can  you  see?  Is  that  a  man  IT 
a  \\  omaii  in  that  boat  there — the  one  that  just  came  around 
the  stern  of  the  Umatillaf" 

"A  man." 

"  No,  the  other.     You  can't  see  now.     She  got  down  low 


523 


HARPER'S  ROUND   TABLE 


the  moment  she  saw  me  looking  at  her.  Give  her  another 
haul.  There;  that'll  do."  The  last  remark  referred  to  the 
sail  which  the  Indian  had  hoistod  as  Tom  was  speaking. 

"Why,  Jo,  where  did  that  boat  go?"  he  continued  a  mo- 
ment afterward, looking  back  among  the  shipping. 

The  skiff  was  gone. 

A  couple  of  hours  later  they  were  cutting  across  Puget 
Sound  before  a  fresh  wind,  with  the  slap  and  drench  of  the 
rising  waves  against  their  bows.  The  timbered  uplands 
were  darkly  visible  a  mile  or  so  ahead,  and  Tom  called  out 
to  his  companion  in  the  bow: 

"I  say,  Jo,  I'm  going  to  tack  for  the  inner  channel,  and 
wait  in  the  slough.  I  have  been  thinking  this  thing  out, 
and  I've  got  an  idea  in  my  head.  I  didn't  tell  the  man  at 
the  Custom-house  about  the  landing  at  the  rocks." 

"  You  didn't?"  came  a  sleepy  voice  from  the  darkness. 

"No ;  I  was  too  confused  at  tirst,  and  afterwards  I  thought 
I  wouldn't,  anyway." 

A  mile  up  this  narrow  channel,  or  slough,  as  shallow 
places  of  the  kind  are  called  on  the  Pacific  coast,  there  was 
a  small  bay,  almost  hidden  by  the  vast  overhanging  lir- 
trees.  On  one  side  the  shore  was  steep  and  rocky,  but  on 
the  other  there  was  a  small  strip  of  very  convenient  beach, 
where  the  boys  had  lauded  three  or  four  times  to  mend 
their  seine.  The  last  time  they  had  been  there,  Jo,  in  the 
spirit  of  exploration,  had  pushed  his  way  into  the  thick 
woods,  and  a  little  way  back  had  come  upon  a  faint  trail, 
which,  after  making  a  detour,  they  found  led  up  to  the 
steep  rocks  on  the  other  .side  of  the  little  bay.  They  never 
took  the  trouble  to  follow  it  inland. 

"Place  where  the  lumbermen  land,"  Jo  had  remarked 
upon  this  occasion,  pointing  to  the  trunk  of  a  cedar  near  the 
edge.  There  was  a  slightly  worn  place  in  the  bark  where 
a  ship's  rope  had  been  fastened. 

Afterwards  they  had  remembered  that  the  island  was 
part  of  an  Indian  reservation,  where  no  lumberman  had  any 
right  to  touch  the  timber. 

Until  the  incident  of  the  night  before  they  had,  however, 
given  this  no  thought.  But  it  had  occurred  to  Tom  then 
that  the  mysterious  trail  in  the  uninhabited  island  might 
possibly  have  some  connection  with  the  strange  vessel. 

"What  are  the  customs  officers  going  to  do?"  Jo  asked. 

"  From  the  little  I  could  hear  I  expect  that  the  Madnnin 
will  keep  watch  for  the  smugglers  in  the  open  waters  of 
the  Sound.  The  slough  won't  be  guarded  at  all,  in  that 
case,  and  I'm  going  to  wait  here  till  towards  morning  ;  then, 
if  nothing  passes,  we  can  put  into  the  bay,  and  see  if  there 
are  any  signs  of  anybody  having  been  on  the  trail  the  last 
few  hours." 

"Not  likely." 

"Well,  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that — at  all  events  we'll  wait 
here  through  the  night,  and  see  if  anything  does  happen." 

"  But  if  it  isn't  an  opium  smuggler  at  all  ;  if  it's  a — a — 

"A  what  ?"  Tom  asked  shortly,  familiar  with  the  other's 
superstitious  nature. 

"Have  we  the  gun?"  said  Jo,  changing  the  subject. 

"  I  don't  know." 

"Yes,  it's  here,"  answered  the  Indian,  rummaging  for  it 
among  a  lot  of  odds  and  ends  at  the  bow.  "I  wonder  if 
it's—' 

"Don't  bang  it  off  into  me  to  find  out  if  it  is." 

Some  hours  after  midnight  the  boat  of  the  boys  was 
standing  in  for  the  little  bay  spoken  of.  They  had  waited 
further  up  the  slough,  but  Tom,  who  of  the  two  was  the 
one  who  had  kept  awake,  had  heard  nothing  pass.  It  was 
still  quite  dark. 

Jo  suddenly  started. 

"Say,  did  you  see  that?     There — there  it  is  again  !" 

The  boys  looked  upwards,  and  a  great  white  bar  of  light, 
like  a  comet,  swung  across  the  sky  above  them.  Then  it, 
swung  slowly  back  again,  faltering  here  and  there,  anil 
appearing  to  rise  and  fall  in  crrtain  places. 

"It  must  be  the  Madronn'*  .seaivh-light,"  said  Tom,  "and 
they  are  right  south  of  here." 

They  still  had  a  full  view  of  the  open  waters  of  Pnget 
Sound. 

"  They  seem  to  be  coming  this  way,"  muttered  the  Indian ; 
"there  it  goes  again  !" 


As  he  spoke,  an  intensely  bright  cone  of  light  leaped 
forth  suddenly  into  the  darkness,  and  moved  from  place  to 
place  along  the  high  rocky  shores. 

"I'm  glad  it  isn't  as  dark  as  it  was  last  night,"  Jo  said, 
as  they  rounded  the  point,  and  glided  onward  noiselessly 
upon  the  calm  black  water.  "Do  you  see  anything  in  the 
bay?" 

"No;  drop  the  sail,"  Tom  whispered,  and  he  steertd  the 
boat  slowly  through  the  suspicious  inlet.  It  was  quite 
dark  in  the  shadow  of  the  gigantic  trees.  As  the  bow 
grated  gently  on  the  sand,  Jo  stepped  out,  followed  at  once 
by  his  companion. 

The  next  moment  they  were  both  appalled  by  an  unex- 
pected sound.  It  was  the  soft  flap  of  a  sail.  As  their  eyes 
grew  more  accustomed  to  the  gloom  of  the  thick  forest 
trees,  they  could  see  dimly  a  vessel  of  considerable  size, 
moored  to  the  very  rocks  they  had  been  thinking  of.  It 
was  the  mysterious  ship  of  the  night  before.  It  awed  them 
too,  to  see  it  lying  so  near  to  them  with  its  white  sails  all 
spread,  and  yet  not  a  sign  of  life  upon  it.  There  was  some- 
thing weird  about  it  all,  and  Tom  could  hardly  prevent  the 
Si  wash  boy  from  making  an  immediate  retreat. 

They  continued  to  listen  for  some  moments,  but  all  re- 
mained still  upon  the  vessel  and  upon  the  shore. 

"I  wonder  is  there  any  one  aboard  of  her?"  Jo  said  in 
an  undertone. 

"Keep  still!" 

In  spite  of  this  warning,  Tom  was  himself  the  first  to 
break  the  silence, 

"Perhaps  they've  abandoned  her." 

"Then  where  can  they  be?" 

"  Do  you  want  to  know  real  bad  ?"  asked  Tom. 

"  Yes!" 

'•  Well,  you're  good  at  following  a  night  trail ;  just  you 
follow  that  one  back  into  the  island,  and  you'll  stand  a  fair 
show  of  seeing  where  they  are." 

This  was  humor,  and  Jo  grinned  appreciatively. 

"  Where  is  the  gnu  T'  Tom  asked,  presently. 

"  I  have  it ;  what  are  we  going  to  do  ?" 

"  We're  going  to  get  that  sloop  out  into  the  Sound,  and 
sail  her  up  to  the  city  dock  at  daybreak.  I'll  show  those 
customs  inspectors — : 

"They'll  say  you're  the  smuggler." 

"  Well,  I'm  going  to  risk  it." 

"Perhaps  they're  aboard  now — asleep." 

"  Keep  the  gun  ready,  then!" 

The  boys  were  making  their  way  towards  the  sloop  along 
the  narrow  strip  of  sand  yet  uncovered  by  the  Hood  tide, 
but  as  they  spoke,  they  stopped  with  one  accord,  for  they 
heard  a  sound  from  the  trees  near  by. 

"  Cougar  ?" 

"  No,"  whispered  the  Indian,  "  a  man !" 

"Stand  very  still,  then,  and  watch  what  happens." 

They  could  hear  the  branches  being  pushed  aside  softly, 
and  dull  footfalls  upon  the  forest  moss. 

Presently  two  dark  shapes  emerged  upon  the  neighbor- 
ing rocks.  They  were  talking  rapidly,  but  the  boys  could 
not  catch  what  they  were  saying. 

The  Mdi/i-iniii  was  moving  to  the  south  of  the  island,  and 
standing  in  towards  the  mouth  of  the  slough.  One  of  the 
new-comers  saw  the  search-light. 

"They'll  be  upon  us  in  half  an  hour,"  Tom  could  hear 
him  say  ;  "  wo  must  steer  around  the  point,  and  get  up  the 
slough,  where  a  vessel  of  such  deep  draught  as  theirs  can- 
not follow  us.  We'll  be  done  for  if  we  stay  here." 

The  voice  seemed  familiar,  but  the  boy  was  too  excited 
to  give  the  fancy  a  second  thought.  What  he  saw,  only 
too  plainly,  was  the  easy  way  in  which  the  supposed  smug- 
glers could  make  their  escape,  and,  laying  prudence  aside, 
he  instantly  called  out  in  what  he  intended  to  be  a  very 
commanding  voice, 

"  Ahoy  there !  you  can't  go  aboard  till  you  say  who  you 
are.  ami  what  you  are  doing  here." 

Hardly  were  the  words  spoken  when  Tom  saw  a  bright 
red  flash,  and  was  almost  stunned  by  a  loud  report.  He 
heard  the  crash  of  a  rifle  bullet  through  the  branches  be- 


hind him,  and  heard  the  echoes  running  along  the  opposite 
shores,  growing  fainter  and  fainter  in  the  distance. 


524 


"A    MINUTE    AFTER    IT    WAS    LIGHT    FOI!    AN    INSTANT   AND    WE    GOT    SIGHT    OF    HER." 


Tbe  shot  was  instantly  returned,  and  there  was  a  quick 
sharp  cry  from  the  rocks.  He  turned  and  saw  Jo  at  his 
side,  lowering  the  gun  from  his  shoulder. 

The  next  moment  he  heard  a  rustle  iu  the  trees  near 
Lini,  and  hardly  thinking  of  the  peril  iu  which  he  was 
throwing  himself,  he  turned  in  swift  pursuit.  He  struck 
the  trail  almost  at  once,  and  still  heard  the  same  odd  rustle 
a  short  distance  ahead  of  him. 

He  guided  himself  as  well  as  he  could  in  the  darkness, 
often  stumbling  over  the  bared  roots,  or  grazing  his  head 
against  the  low  cedar  branches.  At  times  he  stopped  to 
listen.  It  soon  became  evident  that  he  was  catching  up. 

The  pale  light  of  the  early  morning  was  beginning  to 
show  dimly  through  the  trees.  The  person  ahead  tripped 
once  or  twice,  and  Tom  knew  that  he  was  now  almost  at 
hand.  The  unseen  fugitive  appeared  to  be  moving  with 
great  difficulty.  A  moment  later  the  boy  heard  a  heavy 
fall  a  few  yards  iu  front  of  him,  and  running  hastily  for- 
ward was  suddenly  met  by — a  woman  ! 

At  this  mishap,  speaking  fur  the  first  time,  she  uttered  a 
harsh  sound  iu  a  deep  voice  which  there  was  no  mis- 
taking. 

It  was  a  man  then,  and  not  a  woman,  after  all,  Tom 
thought,  and  in  his  heart  he  blessed  the  smugglers  awk- 
ward disguise,  which  had  allowed  him  to  catch  up. 

But  the  smuggler,  in  the  mean  time,  had  drawn  his  re- 
volver, and  was  on  the  point  of  aiming  it  mercilessly  at 
the  unarmed  lad,  when  the  latter,  watching  his  motions 
with  difficulty  iu  the  uncertain  light,  snatched  quickly  at 
his  hand.  The  weapon  was  thus  turned  at  random  as 
the  trigger  was  pressed,  and  Tom,  deafened  by  a  sudden  re- 
port, drew  back  as  the  revolver  flashed  iu  his  face. 

The  disguised  man  fell  to  the  ground.    The  boy  watched 


him  for  a  moment,  but  he  lay  there  quite  still  in  the  sha- 
dow. 

A  feeling  of  fear  swept  through  the  boy's  heart,  and 
he  hurried  back  to  the  shore  to  call  for  help.  The  man 
might  not  be  dead.  He  was  surprised  to  find  what  a  long 
distance  it  was  back.  He  had  not,  in  his  first  excitement, 
thought  he  had  gone  more  than  a  couple  of  hundred  yards. 

As  he  drew  near  to  the  water's  edge  he  heard  the  sound 
of  a  number  of  voices.  The  day  was  beginning  to  break. 
Coming  out  on  the  shore,  he  saw  the  Alailruna  lying  at  the 
mouth  of  the  slough  with  the  thick  smoke  wreathing  from 
her  funnel. 

On  the  rocks  near  by  several  men  in  uniform  were  stand- 
ing in  a  group  about  some  object  upon  the  ground.  With 
a.  strange  presentiment  the  boy  made  his  way  around  the 
shore  and  joined  them.  What  he  saw  there  was  a  man  ly- 
ing upon  his  face.  He  did  not  need  to  see  the  features  to 
recognize  who  it  was. 

It  was  the  Chief  of  the  Customs  Department. 

"  Where  have  you  been,  Tom  f" 

The  boy  turned  arouud  at  these  words,  and  saw  the  Cap- 
tain of  the  ^luilrona.  The  sight  of  his  bluft'  honest  fan- 
made  the  boy  feel  himself  again  ;  and  reminded  him,  too, 
of  his  errand,  which  he  had  forgotten  for  the  moment. 

"I  followed  the  man  dressed  up  like  a  woman  who  was 
with  him, "Tom  answered,  excitedly ;  "he's  a  mile  back  in 
the  woods  now  —  I  want  to  take  a  surgeon  along,  for  I 
think  he's  killed.  I  caught  at  his  hand  with  it  iu,  and  it 
went  oft'  somehow — the  revolver,  I  mean — and  I  think  it 
killed  him — but  I  didn't  mean  to;  I"  couldn't  see." 

"  I'll  go  back  with  you  at  once — who  did  you  say  it  was  ?" 

The  boy  told  what  had  happened  as  they  hurried  back 
through  the  trees. 


525 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"  That  must  be  Tee  Liug." 

"Who  .'" 

'•Tci-  Ling;  you've  beard  of  bim — the  most  notorious 
opium  smuggler  on  tbe  coast, — I  see  it's  a  trail." 
,  j,all  tin-  way.     So  it's  a  Chi  Hainan,  then  .'" 

•  •in'  ronrse.  There's  not  a  more  detestable  scoundrel 
among  all  the  Cliinese  in  America.  Ho  lias  a  den  some 
place  on  the  lii-iiisli  Columbia  roast,  and  probably  -we'll 
unearth  his  southern  headquarters  within  a  mile  or  so  of 
where  we  stand.  He  drosses  as  a  woman  simply  as  a  dis- 
guise. He  has  a  hundred  of  them.  You've  had  a  terribly 
narrow  escape  from  him,  my  dear  boy." 

"I  saw  him  at  the  Custom-house  last  night,  when  I  was 
reporting  what  1  had  seen." 

"Where — in  the  office?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Who  would  have  thought  it !  We  knew  that  the  Chi- 
nese gang  were  working  into  the  hands  of  one  of  our  men, 
but  we  never  thought  it  could  be  into  his.  There  it  is,  a 
man's  sin  will  always  find  him  out  in  the  end!  What's  the 
matter  ?" 

"  I — I  feel  kind  of  sick  like.  I  guess  I'm  sort  of  a  cow- 
ard, but  the  thought  of  him  lying  there  dead  that  way!  I 
suppose  a  man  like  you  get's  used  to  it,  but  I — it  makes 
me—" 

"  You  needn't  be  ashamed  to  own  to  a  feeling  of  human- 
ity, my  boy  ;  no  good  man  ever  gets  used  to  death  or  crime, 
though  good  men  sometimes  have  to  see  a  deal  of  both." 

"  Here  is  the  place ;  but — oh  !  — 

"Yes,  Tee  Ling  has  wisely  departed,  I  see.  I  expected 
as  much,  for  Tee  Ling  is  very  sagacious.  It's  just  as  well 
we  didn't  bother  about  the  ship's  surgeon.  Besides,  he  is 
too  good  a  Chinaman  to  take  our  medicine,  much  less  tbe 
dose  of  medicine  the  Uuited  States  has  ready  for  him.  He's 
•wanted  in  'Frisco,  you  know." 

"  Well,  I'm  mighty  glad  he's  alive,  all  the  same,"  Tom  re- 
marked, in  a  tone  of  great  relief.  "  I  was  dreadfully  afraid 
he  was  dead,  and  I — I  never  killed  anybody!" 

"  We  will  be  sure  to  catch  him  during  the  day,  neverthe- 
less, for  he  can't  get  off  the  island,  unless  he  disguises  him- 
self as  a  brown  bear,  and  I'll  tell  the  boys  to  shoot  all  the 
brown  bears." 

Tom  laughed  at  this  mild  drollery,  and  they  returned  to 
the  shore  without  seeing  any  trace  of  the  Chinaman. 

A  lieutenant  was  standing  on  the  deck  of  the  smuggler's 
sloop.  "  There's  ten  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  gum  opium 
aboard  of  her,  Captain." 

"Yes,  and  very  likely  double  that  amount  more  hidden 
some  place  in  the  island.  Torn,  what  do  you  set  your  for- 
tune at  f" 

"I  guess  about  a  hundred  dollars  would  be  more  than  I 
would  ever  know  what  to  do  with." 

"  What  extravagant  ideas  you  have !  I  think  we  will  be 
able  to  suit  you,  though.  Something  like  a  hundred  times 
over  at  the  very  least." 

"Why,  how  do  you  mean?" 

"  Mean  ?  Simply  that  this  is  to  a  great  extent  your 
'  find.'  We  heard  your  gun,  and  our  suspicions  were  aroused 
at  once.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  your  nerve  in  the  first  place 
they  would  have  got  away.  Are  you  willing  to  be  fired  at 
twice  for  nothing?" 

One  of  the  Madrono's  men  came  up  before  the  boy  could 
answer,  if,  indeed,  he  had  any  answer  to  make,  and  whis- 
pered a  few  words  to  the  Captain. 

"Alive,  is  he?"  the  Captain  exclaimed.  "  Get  a  stretcher 
and  take  him  aboard  at  once  or  he  may  die  yet  of  his  wounds. 
Perhaps  that  would  be  the  best  thing  he  could  do;  but  that's 
not  for  us  to  say." 

To  a  boy  of  Tom's  generous  and  manly  nature  it  was  a 
great  relief  to  see  the  unconscious  Customs  Inspector  car- 
ried aboard  the  Hadrona;  but  he  said  nothing. 

The  Captain  was  silent  also  for  a  long  time.  Presently 
his  attention  was  attracted  by  something  unusual  on  the 
beach,  and,  dismissing  an  unpleasant  train  of  thought,  he 
broke  out,  "  What  have  you  there,  men  f ' 

Four  of  the  Madrono's  men  were  seen  at  this  moment 
coming  around  the  point  on  the  shore  with  a  very  unwill- 
ing prisoner. 


"  There!"  said  the  Captain.  "  I  told  you  we  would  have 
him  before  the  day  was  out.  The  lost  are  found,  and  the 
dead  are  alive,  sure  enough.  Where  did  you  get  him?"  he 
hailed,  in  a  louder  voice. 

"  Hiding  on  the  shore." 

"I'm  afraid  Tee  Liug  is  getting  childish,"  the  Captain 
commented,  in  a  voice  aside  to  Tom,  "  if  he  is  going  to  ven- 
ture down  to  the  water  when  things  are  as  hot  as  they  are 
now." 

The  men,  who  seemed  to  be  having  a  great  deal  of  diffi- 
culty, came  nearer,  and  Tom  called  out  in  surprise, 

"  Why,  it's  Jo." 

"Jot"  echoed  the  Captain. 

"  Yes ;  that's  not  Tee  Ling ;  it's  Jo." 

"Who's  Jo?" 

"  Why,  the  Siwash  Indian  who  fishes  with  me.  Hello 
there,  Jo !  Where  in  the  world  have  you  been  ?" 

Jo's  face  was  a  pale  fawn  color  with  fear,  but  he  did  not 
answer. 

"  Let  him  go,  boys,"  the  Captain  said,  smiling.  "  It's  all 
right.  He's  not  the  one  we  are  after." 

"It's  all  right,  Jo,"  Tom  repeated;  but  the  latter,  though 
now  at  liberty,  was  still  silent  and  very  serious.  There  were 
many  cloudy  thoughts  shaping  in  bis  bewildered  mind.  He 
had  expected  to  be  sent  to  prison  for  being  a  smuggler,  and 
hanged  for  shooting  a  man.  It  was  difficult  for  him  to  get 
rid  of  these  ideas  on  short  notice. 

Indeed,  it  is  hardly  probable  that  he  ever  clearly  under- 
stood, the  strange  turn  which  events  took  in  the  next  few 
hours. 

At  any  rate  he  was  not  heard  to  utter  a  single  word  for 
two  whole  days. 

TURNING  A  TRIPLE  SOMERSAULT. 

"  VVTHATEVER  you  do,  don't  join  a  circus,"  said  John, 
W  the  new  stableman.  He  was  sitting  on  top  of  a 
feed  barrel  in  the  barn  with  a  pipe  in  his  mouth,  and  his 
deliberate  manner  bore  conviction  that  be  knew  what  he 
was  talking  about.  The  boys  had  always  wondered  where 
John  had  learned  so  much  about  this  big  world  and  its 
ways,  and  it  was  only  a  few  days  previous  to  the  present 
occasion  that  Joe  had  admitted  having  at  one  time  in  his 
career  travelled  for  a  year  with  a  circus.  Then  nothing 
would  do  but  that  he  should  tell  the  boys  all  sorts  of  circus 
stories.  To-day  the  conversation  had  turned  on  triple 
somersaults. 

"  That  feat  has  been  accomplished  mighty  few  times," 
said  John,  dogmatically,  "  and  I  know  all  about  it.  I  saw 
John  Worland  do  it  in  New  Haven  in  1884,  and  he  told  me 
the  whole  history  of  the  act,  and  of  the  many  men  who 
have  tried  to  do  it.  The  first  man  to  attempt  to  turn  a 
triple  somersault  was  a  performer  in  Van  Amburgh's  circus, 
in  Mobile  in  1842.  He  broke  his  neck.  W.  J.  Hobbes 
made  the  attempt  in  London  in  1845,  and  was  instantly 
killed.  The  next  one  was  John  Amoor.  He  had  been  suc- 
cessfully turning  a  double,  and  was  the  original  in  accom- 
plishing it  over  four  horses.  He  tried  to  do  a  triple  at  the 
Isle  of  Wight  in  1859,  turned  twice,  lauded  on  his  forehead, 
and  broke  his  neck.  Sam  Reinhart,  while  travelling  with 
Cooper  and  Bailey's  circus,  became  dissatisfied  with  the 
double  somersault  feat,  and  was  anxious  to  do  a  triple. 
He  did  it  at  Toledo  in  1870,  making  a  high  leap,  turned 
twice  and  a  half,  alighted  on  the  broad  of  his  back,  and 
was  disabled  for  some  time.  Billy  Button  accomplished 
the  feat  at  Elkhorn  in  1860,  but  he  never  made  another  at- 
tempt. Bob  Stickuey  did  it  while  practising  in  a  gymna- 
sium in  New  York,  but  he  alighted  on  a  blanket,  and  never 
succeeded  in  landing  on  his  feet.  Frank  Starks  tried  to 
turn  three  times  in  Indianapolis,  but  he  fell  on  bis  head  and 
died  soon  afterwards.  The  only  man,  living  or  dead,  that 
ever  accomplished  the  feat  successfully,  was  John  Worland, 
the  man  I  saw.  He  threw  a  triple  somersault  six  times 
from  a  spring-board.  The  first  time  he  attempted  it 
was  at  St.  Louis  in  1874,  with  Wilson's  circus.  He  made 
three  trials,  twice  over  five  horses,  lauding  on  his  back. 
At  the  third  attempt  be  landed  on  his  feet. 

"The  next  time  he  tried  it  was  also  at  St.  Louis  in  1876. 


526 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


He  landed  on  a  mattress  in  a  sitting  posture.  He  did  it 
again  at  Kan  Claire,  in  lt-61,  and  at  La  Crosse  a  few  days 
later.  On  this  occasion  all  the  members  of  the  company 
made  allidavits  to  th.-  fact.  The  last  time  he  accomplished 
tin-  feat  was  when  I  .saw  him  at  Xcw  Haven  iu  ISS4.  It 
was  at  tin-  Foi-rpaugli  show,  and  the  Mayor  of  the  city  ami 
many  newspaper  men  were  present.  First  a  performer  ran 
down  the  board  and  turned  a  single  somersault;  then 
another  man  followed  and  turned  a  double;  after  which 
Worland  rail  down  the  board  and  threw  a  triple  somer- 


sault, landing  on  a  bed  on  bis  feet  as  straight  as  an  arrow 
It  has  seldom  occurred  that  any  man  has  done  a  triple 
somersault  before  a  circus  audience  after  due  announce- 
ment, but  there  is  no  doubt  about  Worland's  act.  It  was 
duly  announced  by  the  ring-master,  and  hundreds  of  people 
saw  him  do  it.  For  years  lie  practised  the  double,  and 
never  would  turn  a  single, so  that  when  he  attempted  a 
triple  he  did  not  run  as  great  a  risk  as  others  who  attempt- 
ed the  feat.  But,  nevertheless,  boys,  don't  join  a  circus, 
and  never  try  the  triple." 


BOYS    AND    GIRLS    OF    NEW    YORK    STREETS.* 

A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  TENEMENTS. 


BY    EDWARD    W.  TOWNSEND. 


IN  one  of  the  Roosevelt  Street  buildings  called  "  back 
tenements,"  because  they  are  built  in  the  spaces  which 
were  once  the  back  yards  of  the  buildings  in  front  of  them, 
when  those  buildings,  years  ago,  were  occupied  by  single, 
well-to-do,  and  sometimes  fashionable,  families,  Gabriella 
Moreno  was  born.  Her  parents  were  not  the  poorest,  by 
any  means,  of  those  who  lived  in  that  neighborhood,  for  her 
father,  Antonjo  Moreno  (he  was  called  "Tony  "  by  all  his 
English-speaking  acquaintances)  was  the  proprietor  of  a 
fruit-stand,  and  did  quite  a  prosperous  business.  In  fact, 
among  the  Italians  of  that  neighborhood  it  was  somewhat 
a  mark  of  rank  to  own  a  fruit-stand  instead  of  a  fruit 
'•push-cart."  Tony  Moreno  had  been  a  push-cart  fruit 
peddler  for  years,  but  some  time  after  his  only  child  was 
born  he  became  the  proprietor  of  a  little  stand  near  the 
entrance  of  the  Tivoli  Theatre  on  the  Bowery.  Part  of  the 
space  his  stand  occupied  was  a  broad  entranceway  which 
had  formerly  been  used  as  one  of  the  entrances  to  the  the- 
atre, but  which  was  now  closed  for  that  purpose.  Tony 
was  one  of  the  first  Italians  to  settle  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Cherry  Hill,  which  is  near  Roosevelt  Street,  and  his 
knowledge  of  and  influence  over  those  of  his  countrymen 
who  followed  him  there  made  him  useful  to  Mr.  Keau,  the 
proprietor  of  the  Tivoli,  who  was  also  iu  the  business  of 
politics. 

That  was  the  way  Tony  came  to  have  the  privilege  of 
running  a  fruit-stand  in  front  of  the  Tivoli.  His  profits 
were  so  great  that  he  and  his  wife  and  Gabriella  were  able 
to  keep  their  one  tenement  room,  and  it  was  a  large  one, 
all  to  themselves,  without  taking  in  two  or  three  boarders, 
as  most  of  their  neighbors  did,  to  help  pay  the  rent.  This 
made  Tony  one  of  the  aristocrats  of  the  neighborhood,  and 
when  it  became  known  that  Gabriella  had  a  cot  to  sleep  on, 
instead  of  sleeping  on  the  floor,  as  the  children  of  other 
families  did,  the  neighbors  looked  up  to  Tony  more  than 
ever  before  as  a  man  of  high  standing  and  solid  posi- 
tion. 

Gabriella's  little  friends,  however,  were  in  the  habit  of 
calling  her  "proud"  and  "stuck-up  "on  this  account.  When 
she  was  six  years  old  Gabriella  was  sent  to  Miss  Barstow's 
Mission  School,  where  many  other  little  Italian  children 
also  went,  to  learn  to  speak  and  read  and  write  in  English. 
Most  of  the  children  left  the  school  when  they  were  eight, 
and  very  few  remained  there  after  they  were  nine  years 
old  ;  for  at  that  age  their  parents  thought  them  old  euough 
to  help  at  home,  to  care  for  the  younger  children  when 
both  parents  were  away  at  work,  and  even  to  learn  to  do 
sewing  for  the  big  clothing  factories.  Gabriella  would 
have  been  taken  away,  too,  had  it  not  been  for  Miss  Bar- 
stow,  who  went  to  talk  with  Tony  and  his  wife.  She  told 
them  that  Gabriella  was  one  of  her  best  scholars,  and  it 
would  be  to  their  interests,  as  well  as  their  daughter's,  in 
let  her  remain  at  school  until  she  was  well  enough  edu- 

*  The  previous  articles  published  in  this  series  are  "A  Street-Waif's 
Luck,"  No.  792,  "  Danny  Caliill,  Newsboy,"  No.  803,  "  A  Messenger-Boy's 
Adventure,"  No.  S09. 


cated  to  do  something  better  than  sew  on  coarse  clothing 
for  wages  which  would  never  support  her  decently.  This 
pleased  Mrs.  Moreno,  who  was  ambitious  for  her  pretty 
child,  but  Tony  grumbled  a  good  deal. 

Gabriella  was  old  enough,  he  said,  to  help  earn  bread,  as 
the  other  children  of  her  age  did.  Had  not  her  father  and 
mother  worked  since  they  were  six  years  old?  he  asked. 
Then  why  should  their  child  be  kept  in  idleness  only  to 
learn  things  out  of  books  which  were  well  euough  for  the 
rich,  but  did  the  poor  no  good? 

Miss  Barstow  was  more  interested  iu  Gabriella  than  in  any 
other  child  of  the  tenements  she  had  ever  known,  for  the  girl 
was  really  unusually  bright  and  pretty,  and  she  was  de- 
termined to  keep  her  longer  in  the  school.  She  knew  that 
Tony  had  his  stand  at  the  Tivoli  by  Mr. Kean's  permission, 
and  to  Mr.  Keau  she  went  for  aid. 

Miss  Barstovv's  fashionable  friends  would  have  been  sur- 
prised to  learn  how  often  she  went  to  Mr.  Kean  for  aid 
and  advice,  and  to  know  how  often  he  gave  his  aid,  and 
how  valuable  his  advice  always  was. 

Mr.  Kean  smiled  when  Miss  Barstow  asked  him  if  he 
could  not  help  her  keep  Tony's  daughter  in  school,  and  said, 
with  rough  politeuess, 

"  Yes,  I  guess  so,  miss." 

What  he  did  was  simply  to  shortly  order  Tony  to  do  just 
what  Miss  Barstow  wanted,  if  he  knew  what  was  good  for 
him  ;  and  Tony  obeyed  without  question,  as  did  every  one 
else  in  that  part  of  the  city  who  received  orders  from  Mr. 
Kean. 

That  was  the  way  Gabriella  remained  iu  the  school  un- 
til she  was  past  twelve  years  old,  and  until  the  time  her 
mother,  who  helped  Tony  at  the  fruit-stand,  was  taken  sick. 
Then  Gabriella  took  her  mother's  place,  but  she  too  be- 
came ill,  and  Tony  had  to  close  his  fruit-stand  part  of  each 
twenty-four  hours,  which  caused  that  very  penurious  Ital- 
ian great  misery  of  mind,  for  his  was  what  is  known  as  an 
"all-night  "stand,  and  he  bitterly  lamented  his  loss  of  trade 
during  the  hours  of  closing.  Gabriella,  under  the  careful 
nursing  of  Miss  Barstow,  soon  became  well  and  strong 
again  ;  but  the  mother  did  not,  and  that  was  the  reason  it 
became  necessary  for  the  girl  to  take  her  place  at  the  stand 
part  of  the  time,  dividing  with  her  mother  the  hours  when 
Tony  went  home  to  eat  and  sleep. 

Miss  Barstow  knew  that  if  she  interfered  further  to  keep 
Gabriella  oft'  the  street  and  at  school  she  might,  with  Mr. 
Kean's  aid,  succeed  in  doing  so;  but  her  knowledge  of 
tenement-house  life  made  her  realize  that  such  action  would 
make  the  girl's  home  life  unhappy.  So  she  let  her  favorite 
scholar  go  without  protest,  intending,  however,  to  keep  as 
close  a  watch  over  her  as  she  could,  and  to  regain  her  for 
her  school  later,  if  she  found  that  the  girl's  mother  became 
strong  enough  not  to  need  Gabriella's  help. 

Gabriella's  "  watches  " — that  is,  the  time  she  was  on  duty 
at  the  fruit-stand — were  always  iu  the  day-time,  and  Miss 
Barstow  would  stop  there  frequently  to  speak  to  her  on 
her  way  to  the  Mission  House.  She  did  this  to  keep  track 


527 


HARPER'S  BOUND   TABLE 


'  WELL,   JUST    CHARGE    IJIS    ONE,"  HE    SAID,   SEIZING    A    BANAHA    AND    STARTING    TO    RUN. 


of  the  givl,  and  to  leave  her  a  book  now  ami  then.  These 
were  the  only  happy  moments  in  the  poor  girl's  life.  She 
Lad  learned  to  love  Miss  Barstow,  and  to  care  very  much 
for  books  and  other  things  Miss  Barstow  had  interested  her 
in.  which  now  seemed  far  removed  from  her  life,  except 
when  they  were  recalled  by  these  visits  from  her  teacher. 

Every  day  now  she  went  to  the  fruit-staud  on  the  Bowery 
in  the  morning  to  relieve  her  father.  There  it  was  her 
duty  to  keep  the  stacks  and  pyramids  of  fruit  in  order,  to 
dust  them,  to  replace  with  fresh  fruit  from  the  boxes  un- 
derneath the  stand  the  pieces  which  she  sold,  and  to  keep 
a  sharp  look-out  against  the  nimble  hands  of  thievish 
youngsters.  Every  piece  of  fruit  was  carefully  counted  by 
Tony  before  lie  went  oft'  the  watch,  and  when  he  returned 
Gabriella  had  to  account  for  every  sale  and  every  missing 
piece. 

One  day  Gabriella  stood  by  the  side  of  the  stand,  think- 
ing how  much  happier  her  life  had  been  when  she  went 
each  day  to  the  Mission  School.  She  was  wondering,  at  the 
game  time,  where  she  could  have  ever  before  seen  the 
smartly  dressed  boy  who  stood  in  the  doorway  of  the  thea- 
tre office  smiling  at  her.  Somehow  he  was  associated  in 
her  mind  with  Miss  Barstow,  yet  where  and  when,  if  ever, 
she  had  seen  him  before  was  as  indistinct  in  her  mind  as 
tin-  memory  of  a  dream.  For  several  days  she  had  seen 
him  standing  there,  and  from  the  first  she  had  the  impres- 
sion that  she  had  seen  him  somewhere  else.  She  could  not 
place  liiin ;  he  was  much  better  and  more  stylishly  dressed 
than  any  of  the  boys  she  had  ever  seen  about  her  home  or 
the  school.  Me  always  had  a  friendly  nod  and  smile  for 
her.  and  she  nodded  and  smiled  in  return;  and  although 
they  had  never  spoken,  she  had  never  given  up  trying  to 
think  where,  if  anywhere,  sin-  hail  seen  him  besides  there  in 
front  of  the  theatre. 

As  he  stood  there  this  day,  looking  .somehow  as  if  he 
owned  the  Bowery,  a  rough  young  fellow  loafed  up  to  the 
stand  and  asked,  in  an  impudent  manner. 

"  Say,  sis,  how  much  are,  dese  bananas  ?" 

"A  cent  each,"  answered  Gabriella. 

"Well,  just  charge  disoiie/'he  said, seizing  a  banana  and 
starling  to  run. 

As  Gabriella  began  to  cry  out  for  the  thief  to  stop,  the 
smartly  dressed  lad  in  the  dour\\ay  flew  out  like  a  Skye 


terrier  after  a  rat. 
He  had  headed  oft 
the  loafer  with 
such  surprising 
quickness  thattbe 
latter  was  more 
amazed  than 

frightened  when 
the  boy  demanded 
of  him  to  give 
up  the  stolen 
fruit.  This  de- 
mand only  made 
the  fellow  laugh. 
The  laugh  soon 
came  to  an  end, 
though,  because 
Danny  Cahill— 
for  that  was  the 
name  of  the  small- 
er boy  —  had  not 
forgotten  any  of 
the  quick  and 
fierce  methods  he 
had  learned  to  use 
in  lighting  lar- 
ger boys  when  he 
had  been  a  street 
arab.  It  was  a 
very  short  strug- 
gle, and  almost 
before  the  fright- 
ened Gabriella 
knew  what  was 
happening  Danny 

was  standing  before  her  smiling,  and  her  tormentor  was- 
skulking  away,  well  thrashed  for  his  meanness. 

Danny's  victory  had  been  complete ;  he  had  not  only 
vanquished  the  enemy  but  recovered  the  stolen  property  ; 
and  as  he  put  the  banana  carefully  back  on  the  stand  he 
said,  good-naturedly, 

"It's  all  right,  little  girl ;  what  are  you  crying  for?" 
Gabriella  stopped  crying,  and  answered,  "Because  if  that 
boy  had  got  away  with  the  banana,  and  I  did  not  have  a 
penny  for  it,  my  father  would  have  whipped  me." 

Then  to  the  great  astonishment  of  Danny,  Gabriella  took 
a  banana  from  the  stand  and  offered  it  to  him.  Danny 
laughed  outright  at  this,  and  exclaimed: 

"  Den  if  you  haven't  a  penny  t'  show  for  de  banana,  your 
father  will  whip  you  just  de  same  wedder  de  banana  is 
stolteu  or  you  give  it  away  to  me.  Won't  he  ?" 

Gabriella  laughed  too,  now,  and  said,  "Yes,  but  I'm  will- 
ing to  take  a  whipping  for  you,  because  you  whipped  that 
boy  for  me," 

But  Danny  said  he  guessed  he  would  rather  pay  for  the 
fruit,  and  they  were  laughing  and  chatting  over  the  ad- 
venture in  the  most  friendly  way  when  Miss  Barstow  came 
up.  They  told  her  the  story,  and  she  seemed  greatly  pleased. 
She  told  Gabriella  that  Danny  was  the  boy  who  had  helped 
take  care  of  her  and  her  mother  the  first  night  they  were 
both  sick  with  the  fever. 

"Then  it  was  there  I  saw  you  before, ''Gabriella  said  to 
Danny,  with  delight.  "  I  was  not  sure  whether  I  had  really 
seen  you  or  just  dreamed  that  I  had." 

"Well,  yon  were  doing  a  heap  of  dreaming  dat  night, 
sure,"  Danny  answered. 

"But  you  were  a  messenger  -  boy  then,"  Miss  Barstow 
said  to  Danny.  "  How  is  it  you  happen  to  be  here  and  not 
in  your  uniform?" 

"Oh,  I'm  Mr.  Keau's  office-boy  now,"  answered  Danny. 
"I'm  to  be  his  clerk  when  I'm  big  enough." 

This  information  seemed  to  give  as  much  satisfaction  to 
Miss  Barstow  as  it  did  to  Danny. 

"I  like  that, "Miss  Barstow  said,  "for  now  Gabriella  will 
have  some  one  to  look  out  for  her  when  she  is  on 
watch." 

"  l>at's  right;  as  long  as  I  remember  how  t' fight  she  will. 
Sure,"  Danny  replied,  eanieM  l\ . 


528 


SNOW-SHOES    AND    SLEDGES. 


BY     KIRK     M  U  X  R  O  E. 


CHAPTEl;    XXIII. 
LAW    IS    THE    GOLD    DIGGINGS 

THE  latest  coiner  to  Camp  Forty  Mile  was  not  partic- 
ularly anxious  to  attend  the  public  meeting  to  which 
he  was  invited  by  Mr.  Platt  Riley.  Still  he  thought  it  bet- 
ter to  do  so  rather  than  run  the  risk  of  offending  hi.s  liu.st, 
who  was  evidently  a  man  of  influence  in  the  diggings.  His 
overnight  reflections  having  convinced  him  that  this  camp 
was  not  such  a  place  as  he  had  expected,  and  also  that  he 
might  find  greater  safety  elsewhere,  his  lirst  act  in  the 
morning  was  to  order  his  Indian  drivers  to  harness  the 
dogs,  and  he  prepared  for  a  start  within  an  hour. 

Kuril! a,  who  was  with  them  under  instructions  not  to 
lose  sight  of  them,  grinned  when  he  heard  this,  for  he  had 
picked  up  an  inkling  of  what  was  going  on,  and  felt  pretty 
certain  that  the  order  need  not  be  obeyed. 

When  Mr.  Riley's  reluctant  gnest  entered  the  store  of 
the  Yukon  Trading  Company,  in  which,  on  account  of  its 
size,  the  meeting  was  to  be  held,  In;  fully  intended  to  take 
a  back  seat,  and  slip  out  as  soon  as  he  could  do  so  un- 
noticed. The  place  was  so  filled  with  miners,  however,  that 
there  were  no  back  scats,  and,  to  his  surprise,  the  crowd 
pressed  aside  as  he  and  Mr.  Riley  filtered,  so  as  to  leave  a 
passage  to  the  farther  end  of  the  room.  A  moment  later, 
without  knowing  just  how  it  had  been  done,  he  found  him- 
self seated  beside  Jalap  Coombs's  friend,  Skiff  Bettens,  who 
obligingly  made  a  place  for  him.  He  noticed  with  some 
curiosity  that  twelve  men  were  seated  on  benches  directly 
opposite  to  him,  while  all  the  rest  of  the  crowd  were  stand- 
ing. Between  him  and  these  men  was  an  open  space,  at 
the  upper  end  of  which  were  a  table  aud  a  chair  raised  on 
a  rude  platform. 

To  this  platform  Mr.  Platt  Riley  made  his  way,  aud  seat- 
ing himself  in  the  chair,  rapped  on  the  table  for  silence. 
Then,  rising,  he  said  : 


"Gentlemen  of  the  jury  and  fellow-citizens,  this  court  is 
now  open  for  business,  and  I  as  its  Judge,  elected  by  your 
votes,  am  prepared  to  administer  justice  in  accordance  with 
your  laws,  aud  such  verdicts  as  may  be  rendered  by  your 
jury." 

'•  It  is  a  court,"  thought  Strciigel,  with  a  shiver. 

"The  ease  to  be  tried  this  morning,"  continued  the  Judge, 
••  is  one  that  touches  the  pocket,  the  life,  and  the  honor  of 
every  miner  in  the  Yukon  Valley  ;  for  the  prisoner  at  the 
bar  is  indicted  on  three  separate-  counts  as  a  thief,  a  mur- 
derer, and  an  unmitigated  scoundrel.  He  has  come  into 
our  camp  under  a  false  name  and  with  a  false  story,  after 
having  attempted  the  destruction  of  a  steamer  that  is 
bringing  goods  and  machinery,  of  which  we  are  greatly  in 
need. 

"He  is  charged  with  robbing  and  leaving  helpless  in  the 
wilderness  a  man  whom  we  all  know  and  respect,  aud  also 
with  robbing  and  deserting  while  seriously  ill  his  own 
companion  who  was  on  his  way  to  visit  us  in  behalf  of  our 
old-established  trading  company." 

Strengel  listened  to  these  terrible  words  with  an  ever- 
increasing  paleness  and  visible  agitation.  Finally,  clap- 
ping a  hand  to  his  face  as  though  seized  with  a  sudden  ill- 
ness, he  started  to  rise  and  leave  the  room. 

"Sit  down,"  ordered  Skiff  Bettens.  in  a  low  tone,  at  the 
same  time  jerking  him  back  to  his  seat.  Then  the  man 
knew  that  he  was  indeed  a  prisoner. 

"To  prove  these  serious  charges,"  continued  the  Judge, 
'•I  am  about  to  call  several  witnesses.  At  the  same  time 
the  prisoner  will  be  given  the  privilege  of  cross-question- 
ing them  and  of  pleading  in  his  own  behalf.  Mr.  Philip 
Ryder." 

At  this  summons  Phil  advanced  from  the  farther  end  of 
the  room,  and  the  prisoner  regarded  him  with  undisguised 
amazement. 

After  answering  the  usual  questions  regarding  his  per- 


'THAT'S    A    LIE!"    SHOUTED    THE    PRISONER,  HOARSELY. 
5-29 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


sonality  and  business.  1'lnl  \vas  asked  if  be  kue\v  the  pris- 
oncr. 

••  ]    do."    lie-   answered. 
"  Wliat    is   Ills    name    '" 

••  I  understand  tliat.  lie  now  rails  himself  P.radwick  :  but 
:i  te\\ -months  ,-iu"  In-  wenl  b\  ih.-  name  of  Strangel." 

••Tliat's  a  lie."  shouted  tin-  prisoner,  hoarsely. 

•-  Silen, -e!"  eoniinanded  the  Judge.  "  Now,  Mr.  Ryder, 
tell  the  . jury  what  you  kno\\  concerning  lln-  accused  from 
the  time  of  your  lirst  meeting  \rith  him  up  to  the  prrseni." 

This  Phil*  did  MS  hrielly  as  possilde.  and  when  lie  had 
tinishcd  tlie  prisoni'i-  spianj;  to  his  feet, his  face  black  with 
rage,  and  exclaimed:  "Why  should  this  fellow's  story  be 
believed  rather  than  mine.'  Who  knows  anything  about 
him.  or  even  who  he  is  ?  lie  was  picked  up  iu  Bering  Sea, 
drifting  about  in  a  stolen  canoe.  At  St.  Michaels  be  was 
known  as  a  tliicf  and  a  brawler.  1  happen  to  know  that 
be  has  been  locked  up  in  a  Victoria,  police  station,  and  1 
demand  that  his  evidence  be  thrown  out." 

"That  will  do,  sir,"  said  the  Judge.  "  I  happen  to  know 
this  young  man  and  his  family  so  well  that  I  am  willing  to 
vouch  for  him  if  necessary.  1  >o  you  wish  to  question  him  '. 
Xo.  Then  we  will  proceed.  Mr.  Serge  Belcofsky." 

Serge,  of  course,  identified  the  prisoner  as  Strengel,  and 
corroborated  Phil's  story  in  every  detail. 

••  This  ends  the  testimony  on  the  first  charge,"  announced 
the  Judge,  when  Serge  had  finished  aud  the  prisoner  sul- 
lenly declined  to  question  him.  "In  proof  of  the  second 
charge,  that  of  robbery  and  desertion,  I  call  as  a  witness 
Mr.  Jalap  Coombs." 

As  the  ex-mate  of  the  fieameir  advanced  to  the  stand  the 
prisoner  stared  at  him  as  though  he  were  a  ghost,  nor  could 
he  imagine  by  what  miracle  this  witness  had  reached 
Forty  Mile  in  time  to  appear  against  him. 

Jalap  Coombs  told  his  story  in  his  own  picturesque  lan- 
guage, but  in  a  perfectly  straightforward  manner,  and 
without  the  slightest  hesitation. 

When  he  finished,  the  Judge  questioned  him  very  closely 
as  to  the  amount  of  money  given  him  by  Mr.  John  Ryder, 
and  the  prices  paid  for  various  articles  of  his  outfit  at  St. 
Michaels. 

As  a  defense  against  this  charge  the  prisoner  claimed 
that  Jalap  Coombs  had  not  been  deserted  by  Simon  Gol- 
dollar  and  himself,  but  had  voluntarily  turned  back,  aud 
that  the  dogs  they  had  left  with  him  had  run  away  to 
follow  tbem  much  against  their  wishes.  He  also  stated 
that  they  bad  taken  the  dogs  and  sledge  back  to  the  place 
where  they  last,  saw  Jalap  Coombs,  but  that  they  could  not 
find  him. 

"  They  were  uot  bis  dogs,  anyway.  Judge,"  he  continued, 
"nor  did  he  furnish  any  of  our  outfit,  except  a  few  pro- 
\  isioiis,  most  of  which  he  traded  to  the  Indians  on  bis  own 
account.  This  man  Coombs  was  a  sailor,  supposed  to  be  a 
deserter  from  some  ship,  and  was  loafing  around  St.  Mich- 
aels half  starved  when  we  picked  him  up.  He  claimed 
to  have  some  friends  on  the  river  who  would  help  him, 
so  we  brought  him  along  out  of  charity." 

"May  I  toot  a  horn,  Judge?"  asked  Mr.  Skiff  Bettens, 
rising  as  the  prisoner  concluded  bis  remarks. 

"  Certainly  you  may,  Marshal." 

"Waal,  I  only  wanted  to  say  that  I've  kuowed  Mr.  Jalap 
Coombs  off  and  on  for  a  good  many  years,  and  iu  all  that 
time  I've  never  kuowed  him  to  tell  a  lie  nor  yet  do  a  mean 
thing.  Moreover  I'm  willing  to  stake  my  life  on  his  honesty 
:i'_;iii  that  of  any  living  man,  for  a  better  sailor,  a  squarer 
man.  and  a  truer  friend  never  trod  a  deck." 

This  sincere  tribute  so  affected  the  simple-hearted  sailor- 
man  that  he  could  only  stare  open-mouthed  at  the  speaker 
as  though  he  were  talking  in  some  mysterious  language, 
i  hough  in  after-years  he  often  referred  to  this  as  the  proud- 
est moment  of  his  life.  fin-  remainder  of  the  audience 
Creeled  the  Marshal's  little  speech  with  an  outburst  of  ap- 
plause which  the  Judge  was  finally  obliged  to  check. 

"Letting  charge  number  two  rest  with  the  testimony 
taken."  said  the  judge,  when  quiet  was  restored,  "  we  will 
take  up  charge  number  three,  which  is  the  most  serious  of 
all.  We  have  already  learned  that  the  accused,  under  the 
uame  of  Strengel,  passed  old  Fort  Adams  about  a  mouth 


.-mo.  bound  for  this  place  in  company  with  a  man  named 
(Joldollar.  who  appears  to  be  a  pretty  tough  character  him- 
self, iliouu'li  that  of  course  has  nothing  to  do  with  this  case. 
The  accused  at  that  time  had  little  ,ir  nothing  of  his  own, 
eilher  in  the  way  of  money  or  outfit,  while  Goldolhir  ap- 
pears to  have  been  well  fixed  \\ith  both.  Now  this  man 
tarns  up  in  this  place  alone  under  the,  name  of  Uradwick. 
telliii",  a  story  about  having  come  up  the.  Porcupine.  1  hat 
lie  has  since  admit  ted  to  he  false,  and  ill  possession  of  the 
outfit  formerly  owned  by  Mr.  Coombs  and  Simon  Goldollar. 
'(II  course,  under  the  circumstances,  the  question  naturally 
to  be  asked  is  what  has  become  of  Goldollar  .'" 

"He  got  sick  of  the  trip  and  turned  back  from  Yukon," 
explained  the-  prisoner,  sulkily. 

••  Yes.  we've  heard  be  took  sick,"  replied  the  Judge; 
"  but,  whether  be  turned  back,  or  was  left  to  die  in  an  Ind- 
ian rancheria  is  another  question.  Mr.  Coombs,  will  you 
please  take  Hie  stand  again  ?" 

This  time  Jalap  Coombs  testified  that  he  had  carefully 
examined  the  outfit  brought  into  camp  the.  night  before  by 
the  prisoner,  and  found  it  to  contain  the  same  number  of 
sledges,  i  he  same  number  of  dogs,  and  the  identical  articles, 
with  the  exception  of  a  certain  quantity  of  provisions  that 
bad  composed  it  at  old  Fort  Adams. 

"We  will  now  call  on  one  other  witness,"  announced  the 
.Indee.aiid  the  prisoner  started  as  though  he  expected  to 
see  Simon  Goldollar  himself  appear  on  the  stand.  What 
he  did  see  was  one  of  his  native  drivers  from  Fort  Yukon, 
with  Kurilla  to  act,  as  interpreter. 

"Do  you  admit  Injun  testimony  in  this  court?"  he  asked. 

"  Certainly  we  do,"  replied  the  Judge. 

"If  I'd  known  that,"  he  muttered,  "I'd  have  bought,  a 
dozen  or  so  to  testify  OH  my  side." 

The  Indian's  testimony  was  to  the  effect  that  this  white 
man  had  left  another  white  man  iu  a.  native  but  at,  Fort 
Yukon  so  sick  that  all  the  Indians  thought  he  would  die. 

"Of  course  I  can't  buck  agin  Injun  testimony,"  growled 
the  prisoner;  "but  I  say  it's  a  lie,  all  the  same,  and  don't 
prove  nothing." 

"There  is  one  thing  that  we  must  not  neglect,"  said  the 
Judge.  "  Marshal,  you  may  search  the  prisoner." 

The  latter  struggled  furiously,  but  was  overpowered  and 
held  by  strong  hands  while  the  Marshal  searched  his  pock- 
ets. From  these  were  produced  a  number  of  articles,  in- 
cluding a  wallet,  which  the.  Judge  opened,  spreading  its 
contents  on  the  table  before  him. 

"Do  you  recognize  anything  here?"  be  asked  of  Jalap 
Coombs. 

"I  can  identify  this  as  having  been  iu  Goldollar's  pos- 
session," answered  the  mate,  picking  up  one  of  the  articles 
that  had  dropped  from  the  wallet,  and  holding  it  so  that  all 
might  see. 

Both  Phil  and  Serge  uttered  exclamations  of  amazement, 
for  the  object  thus  exhibited  was  nothing  more  nor  less 
than  the  mysteriously  carved  aud  almost  forgotten  fur- 
seal's  tooth  that  bad  exerted  so  great  an  influence  upon  their 
fortuues. 

CHAPTER    XXIV. 

REAPPEARANCE    OF   THE  FUR-SEAL'S  TOOTH. 

"  WHAT  do  you  know  about  this  thing  ?"  asked  the  Judge 
of  Jalap  Coombs,  taking  the  fur-seal's  tooth  from  him  aud 
examining  it  curiously. 

"  I  know  that  there  were  an  old  Eskimo  at  St.  Michaels 
what  were  shipped  by  Goldollar  to  go  with  us  to  Nulato  as 
dog-driver.  He  wore  this  bit  of  ivory  hung  about  bis  neck, 
aud  seemed  to  set  a  heap  by  it.  One  time  when  be  were, 
lookiug  at  it  I  heerd  Goldollar  say  that  by  rights  it  belong- 
ed to  him,  seeing  as  he  got  it  from  some  uatyve.  and  it  were 
afterwards  stole  from  him.  He  didn't  say  nothing  to  the 
Husky  about  it,  but  when  we  got  to  Nulato  he  give  him  so 
much  liquor  that  in  the  morning  the  old  chap  couldn't  be 
woke  up.  Goldollar  fooled  round  him  a  while,  and  then 
saying  he'd  have  to  give  up  the  job  of  waking  him,  left 
him,  and  ordered  the  teams  to  pull  out.  I  afterwards  seen 
Goldollar  take  that  very  identical  tooth  outeu  his  pocket 
several  times  aud  look  at  it  like  it  were  a  diamond  or  some 
sich,  aud  heerd  him  tell  Streugel  that  any  man  as  owued 


530 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


it  would  surely  have  luck.  It  didn't  seem  t.i>  bring  him 
none,  though.  Leastways  no  good  luck,  fur  he  hain't  had 
nothing  but  bad  luck  seuce."  • 

''Was  it  your  impression  that  you  could  win  good  luck 
by  stealing  this  tooth  ?"  inquired  the  Judge  of  Strengel. 

"I  didn't  steal  it,"  answered  the  prisoner,  sullenly. 

"How  did  you  get  it,  then  .'" 

"Goldollar  give  it  to  me." 

"  Where  did  you  leave  Goldollar  ?" 

"At  Fort  Yukon." 

"Was  he  in  good  health  when  you  last  saw  him?" 

"  I  refuse  to  answer  any  more  questions,"  replied  the  pris- 
oner, realizing  how  deeply  he  was  committing  himself. 

"Very  well,"  said  the  Judge.  "I  think  you  have  al- 
ready told  enough  to  give  us  a  pretty  fair  idea  of  the  par- 
ticular kind  of  a  scoundrel  you  are.  So,  if  you  have  nothing 
more  to  say,  I  declare  this  case  closed  and  in  the  hands  of 
the  jury.  Gentlemen,  the  court  awaits  your  verdict." 

As  there  was  no  room  to  which  the  jury  could  retire  they 
put  their  heads  together  and  consulted  in  whispers,  during 
which  time  Phil  told  the  Judge  what  he  knew  about  the 
fur-seal's  tooth,  together  with  the  legend  of  good  and  bad 
luck  supposed  to  accompany  its  possession.  The  specta- 
tors of  the  trial  buzzed  like  a  swarm  of  angry  hornets. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  jury  ended  their  conference  and  re- 
sumed their  places.  Then,  as  order  was  restored,  the  fore- 
man, standing  np,  announced  that  they  were  unanimous  in 
finding  the  prisoner  guilty  on  all  three  of  the  charges  pre- 
ferred, against  him,  and  recommended  that  he  be  so  pun- 
ished as  to  afford  a  warning  to  others  of  his  kind  who 
might  be  contemplating  a  visit  to  the  Yukon  diggings. 

"  Hang  him  !"  cried  some  one  in  the  crowd. 

"  Shoot  him  !''  shouted  another. 

"Drive  him  out  of  camp,  and  set  him  adrift  like  he  done 
to  Jalap  Coombs,"  suggested  a  third. 

"  Silence!"  roared  Judge  Platt  Ri ley,  standing  in  his 
place  and  gazing  sternly  about  him.  "  You  forget,  gentle- 
men, that  this  is  a  court  of  law,  and  though,  maybe,  it  isn't 
run  with  all  the  frills  of  some,  it's  bouud  to  be  respected. 
Likewise,  it  proposes  to  pronounce  its  own  decisions.  In 
regard  to  the  prisoner  now  awaiting  sentence,  lie  lias  been 
proved  by  the  testimony  of  reputable  witnesses,  and  by  his 
own  admissions,  to  be  a  liar,  a  traitor,  a  dog-stealer,  \\  hirh 
in  this  country  is  the  same  as  a  boss-thief  in  the  States, 
find  a  robber  of  his  travelling  companion  under  circum- 
stances that  make  him  at  the  same  time  come  pretty  near 
to  being  a  murderer.  For  snch  as  he  hanging  would  be 
none  too  severe.  But  we  have  never  yet  hanged  a  man  in 
Forty  Mile,  and  we  don't  want  to  begin,  if  we  can  help  it. 
The  prisoner  has  expressed  a  desire  to  learn  something  of 
our  methods  of  working  these  diggings,  and  we  promised  to 
teach  him.  He  has  also  remarked  that  moss-stripping  was 
a  job  well  suited  to  convicts.  So  be  it.  Prisoner  at  the 
bar,  stand  up  and  receive  your  sentence." 

When  the  wretched  man,  who  had  fancied  himself  in  a 
country  where  he  could  commit  any  crime  without  fear  of 
punishment,  had  been  assisted  to  his  feet  by  Marshal  Bet- 
tens  and  a  volunteer  deputy,  the  Judge  said: 

"By  a  fair  trial,  according  to  Yukon  law,  you  are  con- 
victed of  crimes  snch  as  this  community  does  not  allow  to 
go  unpunished.  On  account  of  them  yon  are  hereby  sen- 
tenced to  strip  moss  fiom  the  several  claims  of  this  eamp 
during  every  working  hour  of  every  working  day  from 
now  until  such  time  as  the  first  steamer  reaches  here  from 
the  lower  river  and  is  ready  to  return.  Then  you  will  be 
allowed  to  work  your  way  on  her  to  St.  Michaels,  where 
may  the  Agent  have  mercy  upon  you. 

"  In  the  mean  time,  when  not  at  work,  you  will  be  closely 
confined  in  the  camp  lock-up,  under  guard  of  the  Marshal, 
who  shall  be  entitled  to  your  services  for  two  days  in  every 
week  for  his  trouble.  On  other  days  he  will  hire  you  out 
to  any  miner  who  has  moss  to  be  stripped,  and  who  will  pay 
for  your  keep  during  such  time  as  you  may  work  for  him." 

This  unique  but  just  sentence  was  greeted  with  a  mur- 
mur of  approval  from  the  spectators;  but  this  was  quickly 
silenced  by  a  frown  from  the  Judge,  who  continued: 

"  All  the  property  that  you  brought  into  this  camp,  includ- 
ing money  and  outfit,  excepting  your  personal  clothing,  is 


hereby  confiscated,  to  be  disposed  of  as  follows  :  One  team 
of  dogs,  one  sledge,  and  half  the  cash  found  in  your  pos- 
session shall  be  restored  to  Mr.  Jalap  Coombs,  from  whom 
yon  helped  to  steal  them.  The  remainder  of  the  money,  aft- 
er the  Indian  drivers  who  came  with  you  have  been  paid. 
and  one  dog  team  shall  be  devoted  to  the  relief  of  Simon 
(icddollar,  who,  though  he  seems  to  be  a  pretty  bad  lot,  is 
still  a  white  man,  and  so  must  not  be  allowed  to  perish  it 
it  can  be  helped.  The  third  dog  team  shall  become  the. 
property  of  Marshal  Bettens  in  place  of  a  fee  for  his  ser- 
vices. The  remainder  of  the  property,  provisions,  and  so 
forth  shall  be  devoted  to  the  support  of  the  prisoner  dur- 
ing such  times  as  he  is  working  for  the  Marshal.  Mr.  Bet- 
teus  will  now  remove  his  prisoner,  and  I  hereby  declare 
this  court  adjourned."  This  ended  Mr.  Strengel's  prospects 
in  Forty  Mile,  and  when,  some  mouths  later,  a  boat  ar- 
rived from  the  lower  river,  he,  thankfully  departed  from 
Camp  Forty  Mile  mentally  vowing  never  to  return. 

After  consulting  with  Phil,  Serge,  and  Jalap  Coombs, Mr. 
PI  attEiley,  who  objected  to  being  called  "Judge  "outside  of 
court,  decided  to  entrust  Simon  Goldollar's  rescue  from  the 
Indian  village  in  which  he  had  been  left  to  Kurilla  and 
Chitsah,  who  were  persuaded  by  a  liberal  payment  to  re- 
turn home  that  way.  Another  Indian  was  hired  to  accom- 
pany them  as  far  as  Fort  Yukon,  and  bring  back  word  to 
Forty  Mile  of  their  success. 

Phil  wrote  and  sent  him  a  letter,  in  which  he  apologized 
for  having  accused  him  of  stealing  his  money  or  the  fur- 
seal's  tooth,  Jalap  Coombs  having  told  him  the  facts  con- 
cerning these  things,  and  hoped  he  would  return  to  St. 
Michaels  in  safety.  Long  afterwards  he  learned  that  Simon 
Goldollar  did  make  his  way  down  the  river,  aided  by  Ku- 
rilla and  Chitsah,  and  was  sent  on  by  Gerald  Hamer  from 
Anvik  to  St.  Michaels.  There  he  was  discharged  from  the 
company's  employ  on  account  of  the  failure  of  his  expedi- 
tion, and  finally  left  Alaska  in  the  same  ship  that  bore  ex- 
convict  Strengel  from  its  shores.  An  amusing  feature  of  it 
all  was  that  both  these  rascals  attributed  the  ill  success  of 
their  undertakings  to  the  unlucky  influence  of  the  fur- 
seal's  tooth. 

This  industrious  bit  of  ivory  which  exhibited  such  a 
fondness  for  interfering  with  the  affairs  of  men  and  boys, 
as  well  as  such  activity  in  rapid  travel  and  change  of  owner- 
ship reposed  for  several  days  in  Mr.  Platt  Riley's  vest  pocket, 
where  it  had  been  unconsciously  thrust  and  forgotten. 
Filially,  tired  of  being  thus  neglected  it  worked  a  hole 
through  the  pocket  and  fell  to  the  floor.  From  there  it  was 
snapped  up  by  Mr.  Riley's  favorite  dog,  who  lay  at  his  feet, 
and  doubtless  imagined  it  to  be  a  choice  morsel  provided 
for  him  by  his  indulgent  master.  A  moment  later  the  Judge 
was  aroused  from  a  reverie  by  the  frantic  struggles  of  his 
dog,  who  seemed  on  the  point  of  strangulation.  When  he 
succeeded,  by  prompt  effort,  in  removing  the  obstruction 
from  the  animal's  throat,  and,  with  a  feeling  of  superstitions 
amazement,  discovered  its  nature,  he  started  at  once  for  tin- 
store  of  the  Yukon  Trading  Company,  determined  to  be  rid 
of  the  uncanny  object  as  quickly  as  possible. 

It  so  happened  that  none  of  the  three  occupants  of  the 
premises  was  at  home,  nor  were  they  to  be  seen  in  any  di- 
rection. They  had  been  preparing  for  departure,  and  many 
articles  ready  for  packing  ou  the  sledges  lay  scattered 
about  the  room.  Among  these  was  a  fur  sleeping-bag,  on 
which  Mr.  Riley's  eye  no  sooner  rested  than  he  thrust  tin- 
magic  tooth  into  it,  and  shook  it  to  the  very  bottom. 

"There!"  he  exclaimed,  ••  they  are  sure  to  take  it  with 
them  :  one  of  them  will  find  it  sooner  or  later,  and  maybe  it 
will  bring  him  good  luck.  At  any  rate  I  hope  it  will." 

So  on  the  morning  of  the  5th  of  February,  although  the 
thermometer  registered  48°  below  zero,  the  little  party  set 
forth  from  Forty  Mile  with  three  sledges  and  seventeen 
dogs.  Above  the  first  sledge  fluttered  a  small  flag  on  which 
appeared  the,  magic  letters  " U.S. M.," signifying  that  1'liil 
had  undertaken  to  deliver  a  large  packet  of  letters,  the 
first  mail  ever  sent,  out  from  Forty  Mile  in  winter. 

The  entire  population  of  the  camp  was  assembled  to  see 
them  off;  and  amid  a  round  of  hearty  cheers  the  sledges 
dashed  away  up  the  Yukon. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


531 


HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE 


STORIES   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE. 

W  A  S  H  I  N  G  T  0  N     I  R  V  I N  G. 
BY   HENRIETTA  CHRISTIAN  WRIGHT. 

"  T    EFT  his  lodging  some  time  ago,  and  has  not  been  heard  of 
Lj  since — a  small  elderly  gentleman,  dressed  in  an  old   black 
eoat  and  cocked  hat,  by  the  name  of  Knickerbocker.  . .  .  Any  in- 
formation  concerning  him  will  be  thankfully  received." 

Such  was  the  curious  advertisement  that  appeared  in  the 
Eri'iiiinj  I'oxt  under  the  date,  of  October  26, 1809,  attracting 
the  attention  of  all  New  York.  People  read  it  as  they  sat 
at  supper,  talked  of  it  afterward  around  their  wood  tires, 
and  thought  of  it  again  and  again  before  they  fell  asleep  at 
night.  And  yet  not  a  soul  knew  the  missing  old  gentle- 
man, or  had  ever  heard  of  him  before.  Still,  he  was  no 
stranger  to  them,  for  he  was  a  Knickerbocker,  and  every 
one  was  interfiled  i"  the  Knickerbockers,  and  every  one 

felt  al st  as  if  a  grandfather  or  great-grandfather  had 

suddenly  come  back  to  life,  and  disappeared  again  still 
more  suddenly,  without  a  word  of  explanation. 

For  some1  time  nothing  more  was  heard  of  Diedrich 
Knickerbocker,  and  then  another  advertisement  appeared 
in  the  Post,  saying  he  had  been  seen  twice  on  the  road  to 
Albany.  Some  time  again  elapsed,  and  finally  the  landlord 
of  the  inn  at  which  he  had  been  reported  to  have  stopped 
gave  up  hope  of  ever  seeing  his  guest  again,  and  declared 
that  lie  should  sell  the  manuscript  of  a  book  that  Mr. 
Knickerbocker  had  left  behind,  and  take  the  proceeds  in 
payment  of  his  bill.  People  were  really  excited  about  the 
fate  of  the  old  gentleman,  and  one  of  the  city  officials  was 
upon  the  point  of  offering  a  reward  for  his  discovery,  \\  In- n 
a  curious  thing  happened.  It  was  found  that  there  was  no 
old  gentleman  by  the  name  of  Knickerbocker  who  had 
wandered  away  from  his  lodging  ;  that  there  was  no  inn  at 
which  he  had  lived,  and  no  manuscript  he  had  left  behind, 
and  that,  in  fact,  Mr.  Knickerbocker  was  simply  the  hero  of 
a  book  of  which  the  author  took  this  clever  means  of  ad- 
vertising. The  book  claimed  to  be  the  true  history  of  the 


IRVING    LISTENING    TO    THE    OLD    TALES    OF    THE    MOORS. 

532 


discovery  and  settlement  of  New  York,  and  began  with  an 
account  of  the  creation  of  the  world,  passing  on  to  the  man- 
ners, customs,  and  historical  achievements  of  the  old  Hol- 
landers who  settled  Manhattan  Island.  Here  we  read  of 
the  golden  reign  of  the  first  Dutch  Governor,  Wouter  Van 
TwilTei-,  who  was  exactly  five  feet  six  inches  in  height  and 
six  feet  five  inches  in  circumference,  and  who  ate  four 
hours  a  day,  smoked  eight,  and  slept  twelve,  and  so  admin- 
istered the  affairs  of  the  colony  that  it  was  a  marvel  of 
prosperity.  Next  we  hear  of  Governor  Keift,  of  lofty  de- 
scent, since  his  father  was  an  inspector  of  windmills,  how 
his  nose  turned  up  and  his  mouth  turned  down,  how  his 
legs  were  the  size  of  spindles,  and  how  he  grew  tougher 
and  tougher  with  age,  so  that  before  his  death  he  looked  a 
veritable  mummy.  And  then  we  see'the  redoubtable  Peter 
Stuy vesaiit  stumping  around  on  his  wooden  leg,  which  was 
adorned  with  silver  reliefs,  furious  with  rage,  menacing  the 
British  Meet  which  has  come  to  take  possession  of  the  town, 
threatening  vengeance  dire 
upon  the  English  King,  and 
still  cherishing  his  wrath 
with  fiery  bravery  when  I  lie 
enemy  finally  occupy  the  old 
Dutch  town  and  proceed  to 
transform  it  into  an  Eng- 
lish city. 

The  book  was  read  with 
ama/ement,  admiration,  or 
intiTcst,  as  the  ease  might 
be.  Some  said  it  appealed 
too  light  and  amusing  for 
real  history;  others  claimed 
that  it  held  stories  of  wis- 
dom that  only  the  wise 
could  understand;  others 
still  complained  that  the 
author  was  no  doubt  making 
fun  of  their  respectable  an- 
cestors, and  had  written  the 
book  merely  to  hold  them  up 
to  ridicule.  Only  a  few  saw 
that  it  was  the  brightest, 
cleverest  piece  of  humor 
that  had  yet  appeared  in 
America,  and  that  its  writer 
had  probably  a  career  of  fame  before  him.  The  au- 
thor was  Washington  Irving,  then  a  young  man  in  his 
twenty-seventh  year,  and  already  known  as  the  writer  of 
some  clever  newspaper  letters,  and  of  a  series  of  humorous 
essays  published  in  a  semimonthly  periodical  called  .S'«7- 
magundi. 

Irving  was  born  in  New  York  ou  the  3d  of  April,  1783, 
and  was  named  aft.T  George  Washington.  New  York  was 
then  a  small  town,  beyond  the  limits  of 
nhich  were  orchards,  farms,  country- 
house's,  and  the  high-road  leading  to  Al- 
bany, along  which  the  stage-coach  passed 
at  regular  times.  There  were  no  rail- 
roads, and  Irving  was  fourteen  years  old 
before  the  first  steamboat  puffed  its  way 
up  the  Hudson  River  frightening  the 
country  people  into  the  belief  that  it 
was  an  evil  monster  come  to  devour 
them.  All  travelling  was  done  by  means 
of  sailing  vessels,  stage-coaches,  or  pri- 
vate conveyances;  all  letters  were  car- 
ried by  the  stage-coach,  and  every  one 
cost  the  sender  or  receiver  twenty-five 
cents  for  postage.  The  telegraph  was 
undreamed  of,  and  if  any  one  had  hinted 
the  possibility  of  talking  to  some  one 
else  a  thousand  miles  away  over  a  tele- 
phone-wire, he  would  have  been  consid- 
ered a  lunatic  or,  possibly,  a  witch.  In 
fact,  New  York  was  a  quiet,  unpretentious 
little  town  whose  inhabitants  were  still 
divided  into  English  or  Dutch  fami- 
lies, according  to  their  descent,  and  in 


IRVING    AS    A    STAR. 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


•whose  households  were  found  the  cus- 
toms of  England  and  Holland  in  full 
force.  living's  father  was  a  Scotch 
Presbyterian,  who  considered  life  a  dis- 
cipline, who  thought  all  amusement  a 
waste  of  precious  time,  and  who  made 
the  children  devote  one  out  of  the  two 
half- weekly  holidays  to  the  study  of 
the  Catechism. 

Forbidden  to  attend  the  theatre,  Ir- 
ving would  risk  his  neck  nightly  by 
climbing  out  of  his  window  to  visit  the 
play  for  an  hour  or  so,  and  then  rush 
home  in  terror  lest  his  absence  had  been 
noted  and  his  future  fun  imperilled, 
and  many  a  night  when  sent  early  to 
bed  he  would  steal  away  across  the 
adjacent  roofs  to  send  a  handful  of 
stouts  clattering  down  the  wide  okT- 
fashioued  chimney  of  some  innocent 
neighbor,  who  would  start  from  his 
dreams  to  imagine  robbers,  spooks,  or 
other  unpleasant  visitors  in  his  bed- 
chamber. He  was  not  particularly  bril- 
liant in  his  studies, but  he  distinguished 
himself  as  an  actor  in  the  tragedies 
which  the  boys  gave  in  the  school-room ; 

at  ton  years  of  age  he  was  the  star  of  the  company,  who 
did  not  even  Idse  respect,  for  him  when  once,  being  called 
suddenly  upon  the  stage  through  a  mistake,  he  appeared 
with  his  mouth  full  of  honey-cake,  which  he  was  obliged 
to  swallow  painfully,  while  the  audience  roared  at  the  situ- 
ation. Afterward  when  he  rushed  around  the  stage  flour- 
ishing a  wooden  sabre  he  was  not  a  tragedian  to  be  trilled 
with.  His  favorite  books  were  Sobinson  Cruxm-,  tin-  Arabian 
Nights,  Gulliver' a  Trari-lx,  and  all  stories  of  adventure  and 
travel.  The  world  beyond  the  sea  always  seemed  a  fairy- 
land to  him;  a  little  print  of  London  Bridge  and  another 
of  Kensington  Gardens  that  huug  in  his  bedroom  stirred 
his  heart  wistfully;  and  he  fairly  envied  the  odd-looking 
old  gentlemen  and  ladies  who  appeared  to  be  loitering 
around  the  arches  of  St.  John's  Gate,  as  shown  in  a  cut  on 
the  cover  of  an  old  magazine.  Later  on  his  imagination 
was  also  kindled  by  short  excursions  to  the  then  wild 
regions  of  the  Hudson  and  Mohawk  valleys.  Years  after- 
ward we  find  the  remembrance  of  these  days  gracing  with 
loving  touch  the  pages  of  some  of  his  choicest  work. 

At  seventeen  Irving  left  school  and  began  to  study  for 
the  bar.  But  his  health,  which  had  always  been  delicate, 
made  it  necessary  for  him  to  take  a  long  rest  from  study. 


IN    THE    SCOTCH    HILLS    WITH    SCOTT. 


SDNNYSIDE. 

and  he  accordingly  left  America  for  two  years  of  travel 
abroad.  It  was  after  his  return  home  that  he  brought  nut 
his  Knickerbocker  history,  a  work  which  made  him  so  fa- 
mous that  when  he  returned  to  England  some  time  after- 
wards he  found  himself  very  well  known  in  the  best  liter- 
ary circles.  The  results  of  this  second  visit  are  fouud  in 
the  volumes  comprising  the  Tales  of  a  Traveller;  Bracebridge 
Hull;  Geoffrey  Crayon'*  fiki'ldi-HooJi,  and  other  miscellany, 
in  which  occur  charming  descriptions  of  English  country 
life,  delightful  ghost  stories,  the  famous  description  of  an 
English  Christmas,  ami  the  immortal  legend  of  Sip  I'au 
ll'iiikh:  One  of  Irving's  most  interesting  chapters  in  this 
collection  is  that  of  his  visit  to  the  haunts  of  Kobiu  Hood, 
whose  exploits  had  so  fascinated  him  as  a  boy  that  he  spent 
his  entire  holiday  money  in  obtaining  a  copy  of  his  adven- 
tures. Abbotsford  is  an  account  of  a  visit  that  Irving  paid 
to  Sir  Walter  Scott.  It  is  a  charming  revelation  of  the 
social  side  of  Scott's  character,  who  welcomed  Irving  as  a 
younger  brother  in  art,  became  his  guide  in  his  visits  to 
Yarrow  aud  Jlelrose  Abbey,  and  took  long  rambling  walks 
with  him  all  around  the  country  made  so  famous  by  the 
great  novelist.  Irving  recalled  as  among  the  most  delight- 
ful hours  of  his  life  those  walks  over  the  Scottish  hills  with 
Scott,  who  was  described  by  the  peasantry 
as  having  "  an  awi'u'  knowledge  of  history," 
and  whose  talk  was  full  of  the  folklore,  poe- 
try, aud  superstitions  that  made  up  the  in- 
terest of  the  place. 

In  the  evening  they  sat  in  the  drawing- 
room,  while  Scott,  with  his  great  houud, 
Maida,  at  his  feet,  read  to  him  a  scrap  of 
old  poetry,  or  a  chapter  from  King- Arthur, 
or  told  .some  delightful  bit  of  peasant  fairy- 
lore  like  that  of  the  black  cat  which,  on 
hearing  one  shepherd  tell  another  of  having 
seen  a  number  of  cats  dressed  in  mourning 
following  a  colh'n,  sprang  up  the  chimney 
in  haste  exclaiming,  "Then  I  am  king  of 
the  cats!"  and  vanished  to  take  possession 
of  his  vacant  kingdom.  From  this  time 
on  Irviug's  life  was  one  of  constant  literary 
labor  for  many  years,  all  of  which  were 
spent  abroad.  His  works  on  the  history  of 
.Spain,  the  companions  of  I'tiltim/m*  and  the 
Alhumbra,  were  compiled  during  his  resi- 
dence in  Spaiu,  where  he  had  access  to  the 
national  archives,  and  where  he  became  as 
familiar  with  the  life  of  the  people  as  it 
was  possible  forastrauger  to  become.  Af- 
ter seventeen  years'  absence  Irving  return- 
ed to  America,  where  he  was  welcomed  as 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


one  wliu  \\irn  for  his  country  great  honors.  He  was  the 
first  writer  to  make  American  literature  respected  abroad, 
and  his  return  was  made  the  occasion  of  numerous  fetes 
given  in  his  honor  in  New  York  and  other  cities. 

He  now  bnilt  Snnnv  side  on  the  Hudson,  the  home  that 
be  loved  so  dearlv.  and  which  will  ever  be  famous  as  the 
abode  of  America's  Mr.-. I  great,  writer. 

His  principal  works  following  the  Spanish  histories  were 
Antona,  the  history  of  the  fur-trading  company  in  Oregon, 
founded  li.v  the  head  of  the  Astor  family:  faptain  />'»««••- 
rilli.  the  adventures  of  a  hunter  in  the  far  West:  the  Life 
of  Goldsmith, and  the  lives  of  Mnliiiiitiiml  iiml  hi*  .s'l/rcmsoi1*. 
He  returned  to  Spain  as  ambassador  in  1842,  and  remained 
four  years. 

In  the  LCI/I  iidi  uf  tin  l'iiiii/iii'»t  a!'  s/niin  Irving  tells  the 
story  of  the  conquest  of  Spain  liy  the  Moors,  as  related  in 
the  old  Spanish  and  Moorish  chronicles.  The  whole  story 
is  a  brilliant,  living  picture  of  that  romantic  age.  The 
Spanish  king  goes  lo  battle  wearing  robes  of  gold  brocade, 
.sandals  embroidered  with  gold  and  diamonds,  and  a  crown 
studded  with  the  costliest  jewels  of  Spain.  He  rides  in  a 
chariot  of  ivory,  and  a  thousand  cavaliers  knighted  by  his 
own  hand  surround  him,  while  tens  of  thousands  of  his  brave 
soldiers  follow  him, guarding  the  sacred  banners  emblazoned 
with  the  cross.  The  Moorish  vanguard,  riding  the  famous 
horses  of  Arabia,  advance  to  the  sound  of  trumpet  and  cym- 
bal, their  gay  robes  and  snowy  turbans,  and  their  arms  of 
burnished  gold  and  steel  glittering  in  the  sunshine  which 
reflects  in  every  direction  the  sacred  crescent,  the  symbol 
of  their  faith.  The  surroundings  are  equally  picturesque 
and  romantic.  The  famous  plain  of  Granada,  adorned  with 
groves  and  gardens  and  winding  streams,  and  guarded  by 
the  famous  Mountains  of  the  Sun  and  Air,  forms  the  fore- 
ground to  the  picture,  while  in  the  distance  we  see  the 
gloomy  mountain  passes,  the  fortified  rocks  and  castles, 
and  the  great  walled  cities,  through  which  the  Moors 
passed,  always  victorious,  and  never  pausing  until  their 
banners  floated  from  every  dill'  and  tower. 

Irving  remained  some,  months  in  the  Alhambra,  living 
over  again  the  scenes  of  Moorish  story,  and  so  catching  the 
spirit  of  the  lost,  grandeur  of  the  old  palace  that  his  de- 
scriptions read  like  a  bit  of  genuine  Arabian  chronicle, 
which  had  been  kept  safe  until  then  in  the  grim  guardian- 
ship of  the  past. 

The  chapters  of  the  .tllntwhrii  are  also  full  of  delightful 
legends,  the  fairy  tales  which  time  had  woven  around  the 
beautiful  ruin,  and  which  the  custodians  of  the  place  re- 
lated gravely  to  Irving  as  genuine  history.  It  calls  up  a 
pleasant  picture  to  think  of  Irving  sitting  in  the  stately 
hall  or  on  his  balcony,  listening  to  one  of  these  old  tales 
from  the  lips  of  his  tattered  but  devoted  domestic  while 
the  twilight  was  gathering,  and  the  nightingale  sing- 
ing in  the  groves  and  gardens  beneath.  He  himself  said 
that  it  was  the  realization  of  a  daydream  which  he  had 
cherished  since  the  time  when,  in  earliest  boyhood  on  the 
bunks  of  the  Hudson,  he  had  pored  over  the  story  of  the 
Granada. 

In  his  work,  Tin'  ( 'nin/in-xl  of  Granada,  Irving  relates  the 
story  of  the  retaking  of  Granada  by  Ferdinand  and  Isa- 
bella. So  sympathetically  and  graphically  does  Irving  de- 
scribe the  fortunes  of  this  war  that  he  must  ever  remain 
the  historian  of  the  Moors  of  Spain,  whose  spirit  seemed  to 
inspire  the  beautiful  words  in  which  he  celebrated  their 
conquests,  their  achievements,  and  their  defeats. 

Iti  the  Chronicle  »/  H'n/1'i  i-t's  Iloost  Irving  follows  in  ima- 
gination old  Diedrich  Knickerbocker  into  the  famous  le- 
gion of  Sleepy  Hollow,  where  much  of  the  material  for  the 

celebrated  Kniekerl ker  History  was  said  to  have  been 

collected.  This  chronicle,  it  was  claimed,  was  written  upon 
the  identical  old  Dutch  writing-desk  that  Diedrich  used, 
the  elbow  chair  was  the  same  that  he  sat  in,  the  clock  was 
t  he  very  one  he  consulted  so  often  during  his  long  hours  of 
composition.  In  these,  pages  old  Diedrich  walks  as  a  real 
person,  and  Irving  follows  him  with  faithful  step  through 
the  region  that,  he  loved  so  fondly  all  his  life. 

Everything  here  is  dwelt  upon  with  lingering  touch.  The 
brooks  and  streams,  the  meadows  and  cornfields,  the  or- 
chards and  the  gardens,  and  the  groves  of  beech  and  chest- 


nut have  their  tribute  from  the  pen  of  one  who  found 
their  charms  ever  fresh,  who  sought  in  them  rest,  and  hap- 
piness, and  who  caine  back  to  them  lovingly  to  spend  the 
last  days  of  his  life  in  their  familiar  companionship. 

Irving  died  in  185y,  and  was  buried  at  Snnnyside;  in  sight 
of  the  Hudson  whose  legends  he  had  immortalized,  and 
whose  beauty  never  ceased  to  charm  him  from  the  moment 
it  first  captivated  his  heart  in  his  boyhood  days. 


Tlra  Dtparti 
•   pleased  to  1 


rest  of  Amateu 
subject  so  far  : 


PhotoErritphers,  nml  the  Editor  will 
,  possible.     Correspondents  stuuld 


ril 
J_ 


address  Editor  Citniera  Club  Departmt 

PAPERS  FOR  BEGINNERS,  NO.   1. 
THE  ACTION   OF   LIGHT    ON   THE   SENSITIVE  PLATE. 

process  of  making  photographs  has  been  made  so 
simple  by  modern  science  that  the  most  of  us  make 
our  picture  by  intuition  —  that  sort  of  sixth  sense  by  which 
we  know  just  how  long  to  expose  a  plate,  when  to  take  it 
from  the  developer,  when  it  is  fixed  sufficiently,  etc.,  etc-. 
though  we  can  give  no  scientific  explanation  of  our  meth- 
ods, and  know  little  or  nothing  how  the  chemical  changes 
are  produced  which  result  in  the  finished  photograph. 

It  is  not  at  all  necessary  to  know  the  process  of  making 
a  sensitive  plate,  but  it  is  quite  necessary  to  know  some- 
thing of  the  action  of  light  on  the  plate  in  order  to  make  a 
good  picture.  A  photographic  negative  is  formed  by  the 
chemical  action  of  light  admitted  through  a  lens  or  even 
a  tiny  hole,  into  an  otherwise  light  tight  box,  a,nd  striking 
a  glass  plaf  e.  lilm,  paper,  or  celluloid,  coated  with  sensitive 
silver  salts.  The  part  of  the  light  that  a  Beets  this  coating 
is  the  blue  rays. 

The  rays  of  light  may  he  separated  by  the  prism  into  a 
baud  of  five  different  colors  —  red,  yellow,  green,  blue,  and 
violet.  Three  of  these  colors  —  the  red,  yellow,  ami  bine  — 
are  called  the  primary  colors,  for  any  color  or  shade  desired 
may  be  obtained  by  blending  and  mixing  them  in  different, 
proportions.  These  three  primary  colors  have  each  a  sepa- 
rate power.  The  red  raysvpossess  heating  power,  the  yellow 
rays  possess  illuminating  power,  and  the  blue  rays  chemical 
power.  The  blue  rays  are  called  actinic,  and  when  we  speak 
of  actinic  light  we  mean  the  blue  rays  which  produce  the 
chemical  change  in  the  sensitive  plate.  The  effect  of  these 
actinic  rays  may  be  seen  in  other  things  besides  the  sensi- 
ti  ve  plates.  The  fading  of  carpets,  draperies,  and  clothing, 
the  tanning  or  browning  of  the  skin,  etc.,  are  due  to  their 
action. 

After  the  sensitive  plate  has  been  exposed  in  the  camera 
to  the  chemical  action  of  the  blue  rays,  the  change  which 
has  taken  place  is  invisible  to  the  eve,  and  in  this  state  is 
called  the  latent  image,  because  it.  is  dormant  or  hidden. 
In  order  to  preserve  this  chemical  change  in  the  silver 
salts  the  sensitive  plate  must  be  washed  or  soaked  in  a 
solution  which  will  form  an  opaque  compound  with  the 
part  of  the  salt  which  has  been  acted  upon  by  the  light. 
As  it  is  necessary  to  have  a  light  to  watch  the  process  and 
stop  it  when  it  has  been  carried  far  enough,  we  must  have 
a  light  free  from  actinic  or  blue  rays.  We  therefore  darken 
the  room  and  use  a  red  light,  for  the  red  rays  have  little 
or  no  actinic  power. 

As  we  watch  the  chemical  change  which  takes  place  in 
the  sensitive,  plate  when  covered  with  what  we  call  the  de- 
veloper, we  notice  black  patches  appear  here  and  there  on 
the  plate.  These  are  the  places  which  have  been  exposed 
to  the  strongest  actinic  rays.  All  bodies  radiate  or  reflect 
light,  some  more  than  others.  A  piece  of  yellow  silk  may 
appear  to  the  eye  lighter  in  color  than  a  piece  of  blue  silk, 
but  when  the  two  pieces  are  photographed  it  will  be  found 
that  the  yellow  photographs  much  darker  than  the  blue 


534 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


silk.  Tills  is  because  the  yellow  silk  does  not  reflect  actinic 
rays,  while  the  blue  does,  and  therefore  the  sensitive  plate 
is  more  strongly  affected  by  the  light  reflected  from  the 
bine  than  from  the  yellow  silk.  The  yellow-colored  silk 
possesses  the  illuminating  power  which  causes  it  to  make  a 
room  look  bright  and  sunny,  while  the  bine  silk  possesses 
the.  chemical  power  which  atl'ects  the  sensitive  salts. 

If  I  he  sensitive  plate  has  been  exposed  to  a  landscape,  the 
strongest  actinic  rays  come  from  the  bine  sky,  and  as  the 
chemical  used  to  develop  or  bring  out  the  image  ahYcts 
the  part  which  has  been  exposed  to  the  strongest  light 
most  quickly,  the  result  in  the  negative  is  the  opaque  de- 
posit which  covers  all  that  part  of  the  plate  exposed  to  the 
light  from  the  sky.  After  the  image  has  appeared  on  the 
plate  it.  must  undergo  another  process  to  make  it  perma- 
nent. It  must  be  placed  in  a  chemical  solution  which  shall 
dissolve  the  silver  salts  from  the  parts  unaffected  by  the 
actinic,  rays.  Where  the  actinic  light  has  been  the  strongest 
the  glass  will  be  covered  with  a  black  deposit,  and  where 
the  light  has  not  reached  the  plate  with  sufficient  force  the 
salts  will  be  dissolved  and  the  glass  will  be  clear,  while  the 
high  lights,  the  shadows,  and  the  half-tones  will  show  jnst 
how  much  each  object  reflected  actinic  rays. 

We  manage  our  cameras,  but  the  snn  is  the  real  work- 
man. What, he  does  is  well  worth  learning,  for  it  enables 
us  to  tell  beforehand  jnst  what  kind  of  a  negative  we.  shall 
have  after  we  have  exposed  a  sensitive  plate  to  his  influ- 
ence. 

ROUND  TABLE  PHOTOGRAPHIC  EXCHANGE  CLUB. 
Our  suggestion  of  forming  a  photographic  exchange  club, 
or  travelling  photographic  exhibit,  meets  with  the  warm 
approval  of  many  of  our  members.  Next  week  we  shall 
give  directions  for  beginning  and  carrying  on  our  club. 
We  give  the  names  and  addresses  of  members  who  will  act 
as  representatives.  Ernest  P.  Fredericks,  Arlington,  New 
Jersey;  Samuel  J.  Castner,  3729  Chestnut  Street,  Phila- 
delphia, Pennsylvania;  Walter  G.  Sill, 511  Central  Avenue, 
East  Orange,  New  Jersey;  Andrew  Phillips,  Nnnda,  New 
York;  C.  Roy  Baker,  315  W.  Dry  Street,  Salem,  Ohio; 
William  J.Tobey,  Washington,  Kansas;  William  C.  Davids, 
Rutherford,  New  Jersey. 

CONSTANT  RKAIIKR  asks :  "  1.  Is  it  possible  to  photograph  from  a  mov- 
ing vessel,  and  how?  2.  Call  I  take  photographs  of  microscopic  speci- 
mens with  an  ordinary  camera,  and  will  you  please  describe  the  method? 
3.  How  can  I  photograph  monuments  so  that  they  will  not  show  black 
in  tile  picture?  4.  What  make  of  plates  is  the  quickest ?  5.  How  can 
I  photograph  a  mantel-piece  in  a  hall  without  using  a  flash-light?  The 
hall  is  rather  dark."  1.  One  cun  easily  photograph  objects  from  a  moving 
vessel  by  using  quick  plates  and  making  the  exposure  instantaneous 
Successful  snap-shots,  but  not  artistic  pictures,  have  been  and  can  be 
made  from  moving  trains.  2.  An  article  will  soon  be  published  on 
microphotography  for  amateurs.  The  process  requires  too  long  a  descrip- 
tion for  the  space  devoted  to  queries.  3.  A  cloudy  day — not  heavy 
clouds — is  the  better  time  for  photographing  monuments.  A  rather  slow 
plate  and  a  short  lime  exposure  will  give  better  detail,  and  render  the 
monument  or  figure  with  correct  color  value.  Use  orthochromatic  or 
nonlmlation  plates.  4.  The  rapidity  of  the  plate  is  marked  on  the  box. 
Some  brands  of  plates  are  marked  with  the  sensitometer  number,  like  the 
Stanley,  Carbutt,  Seed,  etc.,  and  others  are  marked  with  a  letter  like  the 
Cramer.  The  sensitiveness  of  the  Stanley,  which  is  marked  "Sens.  50," 
and  the  Cramer  "C"  plate  is  about  equal  as  to  rapidity.  5.  If  you 
cannot  use  a  flash-light  for  the  mantel,  try  a  long  exposure  by  lamp-light. 
Place  the  lamp,  which  should  give  a  clear,  brilliant  light,  so  as  to  illumi- 
nate the  wood-work  without  giving  strong  shadows.  If  one  lamp  is  not 
sufficient  to  light  the  whole  surface,  take  two,  but  place  them  so  that  the 
light  from  each  comes  from  the  same  direction.  A  reflector  back  of  the 
lomp  helps  the  lighting.  A  shallow  tin  pan,  if  bright,  makes  a  good  re- 
flector if  the  genuine  article  cannot  be  obtained. 

LADV  GUACE  S.,  Vails  Gate,  N.  Y.,  asks  for  the  name  of  a  book  giving 
full  instructions  in  photography  for  beginners.  "  Every  camera  maker 
furnishes  with  each  camera  sent  out  a  book  giving  simple  instruction  for 
using  the  camera,  and  directions  for  developing  plates.  This  would  be  a 
sufficient  guide  for  the  beginner,  and  if  rules  are  followed  one  can  obtain 
very  good  negatives.  There  are  many  books  published  on  photography 
which  would  be  helpful  after  a  while,  but  the  beginner  will  rind  the  di- 
rections which  come  with  the  camera  all  that  are  needful  at  first.  With 
this  number  we  begin  publishing  what  will  be  a  series  of  papers  for  be- 
ginners in  photography.  Technical  terms  will  be  explained,  formulas 
for  work  will  be  given  with  explanations  of  what  each  chemical  is  ex- 
pected to  do.  Prices  of  chemicals  for  each  formula  will  also  In-  inlilnl. 
It  is  intended  to  make  these  instructions  as  simple  as  possible,  and  it 
Lady  Grace  will  watch  this  column  she  will  find  in  it  we  hope  just  the 
help  she  needs." 


OFF    WITH    TlIK    MKKHOY. 

BY   JOHN    KENDRICK    BANGS. 
CIIAPTKI:    v. 


THE   WIZAliD. 

IM.MIKHOY  grasped   the   old    man's 
hand,  and  for  a  few  moments  w.-is 
silent.     He  was  so  astonished  that 
he  could  do  nothing  but  gaze  upon 
his  new  acquaintance  in  wonder. 
The    little   old    man    seemed   very 
much  pleased  at   Jimmieltoy's  ap- 
parent wonderment,  for  he  smiled 
broadly  and  said, 
"Thank  yon,  sir." 
"Yon  are  very  welcome,"  mur- 
mured Jimmieboy,  "  but  I  don't  know  what  for.     I  didn't 
know  that  I  had  done  anything  for  yon  to  thank  me  for." 

"Yes,  indeed,  yon  have,"  returned  the  little  old  man, 
letting  go  of  Jimmieboy's  hand,  and  dancing  a  lively  jig 
upon  the  broad  marble  top  of  the  bureau.  "You  have 
done  two  things.  Yon  have'  released  me  from  a  long  im- 
prisonment, for  one  thing,  and  for  another  yon  have  looked 
at  me  in  a  manner  which  proves  that  yon  think  me  a  must 
interesting  person.  I  like  freedom  better  than  anything  in 
the  world,  and  next  to  that  I  like  being  an  interesting  per- 
son." 

"And  were  you  really  shut  up  in  that  little  drawer  so 
that  you  couldn't  get  out?"  asked  Jimmieboy, beginning  to 
feel  very  glad  that  fortune  had  led  him  that  way,  and  so 
enabled  him  to  help  the  little  old  man  out  of  his  trouble. 

"Yes,"  answered  the  other.  "I've  been  locked  up  in 
that  drawer  there  for  nearly  lifty  years." 

"Fifty  years!"  ejaculated  Jimmieboy.  "Why,  that's 
longer  than  I  have  lived." 

"No,  not  quite,"  said  the  little  old  man.  "They  were 
dream  years,  and  a  dream  year  isn't  much  longer  than  a 
day  of  your  time  ;  but  they  have  seemed  real  years  to  me, 
and  I  am  just  as  grateful  to  you  for  unlocking  the  drawer 
and  letting  me  out  as  I  should  have  been  had  the  years 
been  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  days  long  each." 

"  Why  should  any  one  want  to  lock  yon  up  in  a  drawer  ?" 
asked  Jimmieboy.  "Were  yon  naughty  f" 

"No,"  said  the  old  man.  "I  never  did  a  naughty  thing 
in  all  my  life,  but  they  locked  me  up  just  the  same — jnst  as 
if  I  had  been  a  poor  little  canary-bird." 

"  WTho  did  it  I"  queried  Jimmieboy.  "They  must  have 
been  very  wicked  people  to  treat  you  that  way." 

"They  were.  Awfully  wicked."  said  the  little  old  man. 
"They  were  wickeder  than  they  seem,  because  really,  you 
know,  they  intended  that  I  should  stay  locked  up  there 
forever  and  ever." 

"  But  how  did  they  come  to  do  it  ?"  asked  Jimmieboy. 

"It's  a  long  story,"  answered  the  little  old  man.  "But 
if  you  want  me  to,  I'll  tell  it." 

"  Do,"  said  Jimmieboy. 

"  Very  well,  then,  I  will,"  said  the  little  old  man.  "But 
not  here.  It  is  too  wet  here.  WTe'll  go  inside  the  drawer 
ourselves,  where  we  ean  lie  dry  and  comfortable,  and  we'll 
take  the  key  in  with  us  and  lock  ourselves  in  so  that  no- 
body can  interfere  with  us.  Will  you  come?" 

"I  don't  see  how  I  can,"  said  Jimmieboy, looking  down 
at  his  own  body  and  then  pointing  to  the  drawer.  "Don't 
you  see  I  am  two  or  three  dozen  times  too  big  to  get  iu 
there  ?" 

••That  doesn't  make  any  ditl'cicnce,"  said  the  little  old 
man  with  a  laugh.  "  For  I  am  a  wi/.ard,  and  I  can  make 
you  large  or  small,  jnst  as  I  please.  If  you  will  say  the 
word  I'll  make  you  so  small  you  couldn't  see  yourself  witb 
a  magnifying-glass." 

Jimmieboy  thought  a  moment,  and  concluded  very  wise- 
ly, I  think,  that  he  would  rather  not  be  so  small  as  that. 

"  I  don't  like  to  lose  sight  of  myself,"  he  said. 

"Very  well,  then,"  said  the  other.  "Suppose  I  make 
you  jnst  about  my  size  ?  How  would  that  do  ?" 

"I'd  like  that  very  much,"  replied  Jimmieboy,  kindly. 
"I  think  you  are  an  awfullv  nice  size." 


535 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


JIMMIEBOT    PUTS   ON    THE    LAST  COAT. 


are  the  pleasantest  boy  I  know,"  lie  said;  "and  yon  will 
find  out  before  long  that  it  is  worth  while  to  make  friends 
with  olil  Thunildii,  Lord  High  Wizard  of  the  Sea,  and 
Court  Jester  to  the  King  of  the  Waves." 

"Are  yon  all  that  ?"  said  Jimmieboy.  pleased  to  discover 
that  his  new-found  friend  was  a  person  of  so  great  impor- 
tance. 

"Yes  indeed,"  answered  Thumbhi.  "  I  am  all  that,  and 
half  a  dozen  things  more.  In  fact,  I  am  so  much  that  if 
we  had  a  million  dream  years  together  I  couldn't  even  be- 
gin to  tell  you  all  that-  I  am.  But  come.  Are  you  ready  to 
be  made  smaller  .'" 

••  Yes,"  said  Jimmieboy,  a  little  nervously.  "  What  do  I 
do  first?" 

"  You  must  put  on  a  coat  I  give  you,"  replied  the  wizard. 
"  It  will  be  a  little  small  for  yon,  perhaps,  but  you  can  get 
it  on." 

The  wizard  opened  one  of  the  bureau  drawers,  and  took 
therefrom  a  coat,  in  which  Jimmieboy  hastened  to  array 
himself.  It  was,  as  the  old  man  had  said,  a  little  small  for 
him,  but  he  managed  to  get  into  it,  and  after  wearing  it  a 
minute  or  two  he  found  it  quite  comfortable. 

"Now  take  it  off,"  said  the  wizard,  taking  a  second  coat 
out  of  the  drawer,  "  and  put  this  one  on." 

Jimmieboy  took  off  the  coat.  ''Is  this  larger  than  the 
other  .'"  he  asked,  as  he  began  to  put  the  second  coat  on. 

••  No  ;  it  is  a  trifle  smaller,"  replied  the  wizard.  "  That's 
my  scheme.  You  keep  putting  on  coats  that  are  smaller 
than  the  one  you  have  just  taken  off.  You  stay  in  them 
until  they  fit  you  comfortably,  and  finally  when  you  get 
the  last  one  on  you  will  be  small  enough  to  get  into  the 
drawer." 

"That's  a  fine  plan,"  said  Jimmieboy. 

Then  lie  went  through  the  process  of  changing  coats, 
each  new  coat  being  a  little  smaller  than  the  other,  until 
he  had  tried  on  at  least  fifty  of  them,  when  for  the  first 
time  since  he  began  he  caught  sight  of  himself  in  the  glass. 


"My!"  he  cried, in  pleased  as- 
tonishment. "  I'm  hardly  any 
bigger  than  you  are." 

••That's  so,"  replied  the  little 
old  man.  "  One  more  coat,  and  we 
can  get  you  iuto  the  drawer." 

Jimmieboy  put  on  the  last  coat. 
A  little  bit  of  a  thing  it  was,  hard- 
ly larger  than  a  doll's  overcoat, 
and,  if  the  truth  be  told,  awfully 
tight;  but,  as  with  all  the  others, 
it  soon  became  as  comfortable 
as  any  coat  he  had  ever  worn, 
and  then,  looking  at  himself  in  the 
glass  once  more,  Jimmieboy  ob- 
served that  he  was  actually  no 
larger  than  Thumbhi. 

"It  didn't  hurt  much,  did  it  ?" 
asked  Thnmbhi. 

"  Not  a  bit,"  said  Jimmieboy. 
"  It  was  as  easy  and  pleasant  as 
could  be." 

"That's  the  great  thing  about 
my  tricks,"  said  the  wizard. 
"They  never  hurt  anybody.  It- 
would  be  a  good  thing  if  all 
tricks  were  that  way.  Tricks 
that  hurt  people  are  mean,  and  I 
don't  have  anything  to  do  with 
them,  and  if  yon  will  take  my  ad- 
vice you  won't  either." 

'•  I'll  take  anything  you'll  give 
me,"  said  Jimmieboy. 

The  old  wizard  laughed  hearti- 
ly at  this.      "Most   boys  would," 
said  he,  "  hut  you  are  the  first  one 
I    ever  met   who    was   willing  to 
take  advice.   The  boys  I've  known 
have    all  been  like  little  Sammy. 
Ever  hear  about  little  Sammy  ?" 
"No,"  answered  Jimmieboy.      "  What  did  he  do  ?" 
"Why,"  said  the  wizard,  "Sammy  is  the  boy  the   poet 
wrote  about,  saying: 

"  Sammy  was  a  pretty  boy, 
Sammy  was  his  mother's  joy. 
Sammy'd  take 
A  piece  of  cake, 
Sammy'd  always  take  a  toy. 

"  Sammy'd  take  a  top  to  spin. 
Pie  with  fruit  and  raisins  in. 
Sammy'd  take 
A  piece  of  steak, 
Sammy'd  take  his  medicine. 

"Sammy'd  take  a  bowl  of  rice, 
Sammy'd  take  a  bit  of  spice. 

Sammy'd  take 

A  garden  rake, 
But  he  would  not  take  advice." 

Here  the  wizard  stopped. 

"Is  that  all?"  asked  Jimmieboy. 

"Certainly,"  answered  Thumbhi.  "What  more  do  you 
want  .'" 

"Didn't  anything  happen  to  Sammy?"  queried  Jinimie- 
boy. 

The  wizard  was  about  to  say  no,  but  then  he  suddenly 
remembered  that  something  always  does  happen  to  boys 
that  refuse  to  take  advice,  so  he  said:  "The  poet  never 
told  us  about  that,  but  I  think  it  probable  that  something 
did  happen  to  Sammy.  Very  likely  he  went  out  skating  on 
a  mill-pond  one  summer  day  in  spite  of  his  father's  warn- 
ing, and  got  his  feet  so  wet  that  he  caught  cold,  and  had  to 
stay  in  bed  while  all  the  other  boys  went  off  on  a  picnic." 

This  seemed  to  satisfy  Jimmieboy,  and  Sammy  was 
dropped  as  a  subject  of  conversation. 

"  Now  let  us  go  into  the  drawer,"  said  the  wizard. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


536 


^INTERSCHOIfASTO 


"•« 

< 


IF  THE  SUCCESS  OF  A  TRACK-ATHLETIC  meeting  is  to  be 
judged  from  the  number  of  records  broken,  the  two  iu- 
terscholastic   meets  of  May  llth  at  Berkeley  Oval  and  at 
Eastern  Park  will  go  down  iii  the  annals  of  school  sport  as 
the  most  notable  occasions  of  the  kind  ever  held.    The  con- 


....  :,    :._•<:-•  :      :•>.     •         •     .  .•••'• 
FINISH  IN  THE  100-YARD  DASH. 


ti'stants  in  the  N.Y.I. S. A. A.  games  left  the  records  of  only 
four  events  on  the  card  standing  at  the  same  figure  they 
showed  when  the  programme  was  printed,  and  came  so 
close  to  these  that  the  entire  schedule  was  in  danger 
of  being  entirely  overthrown.  The  management  of  the 
Oval  games  was  as  near  perfection  as  cau  be  hoped  for 
•where  so  many  events  and  so  many  contestants  have  to  be 
attended  to  ;  and  although  in  Brooklyn  there  was  consider- 
able delay  at  one  time  on  account  of  the  non-arrival  of  the 
hurdles,  yet  things  were  kept  moving  as  fast  as  possible, 
and  the  enthusiasm  of  the  spectators  helped  to  till  what 
might  otherwise  have  been  several  tedious  gaps.  The 
Cutler  athletes  deserve  the  highest  praise  for  the  work 
they  performed.  They  came  ou  the  h'eld  with  Barnard 
and  Berkeley  strong  favorites,  and  they  went  into  every 
event  with  an  earnestness  and  energy  that  were  finally  re- 
warded by  victory.  Cutler's  score  was  34i  points,  with 
Barnard  second,  having  30,  and  Berkeley 
third,  with  27.  Next  year  there  will  be 
a  hot  struggle  between  Barnard  and  Cut- 
ler for  the  final  ownership  of  the  cup, 
which  will  then  be  decided,  unless  some 
other  strong  team  is  developed,  to  come  in 
and  secure  the  trophy  for  a  year's  custo- 
dianship. 

AI.THOTGH  HALL  WON  THE  second  heat 
in  the  100  in  10|  seconds,  with  Moore  be- 
hind him,  lie  was  unable  to  distance  Moore 
when  the  linal  test  came,  and  the  Barnard 
man  plunged  ahead  and  took  the  event. 
All  the  heats  in  the  100  were  close  and  in- 
teresting, and  no  winner  had  an  easy  time 
of  it  in.  any  case.  In  fact,  all  the  sprints 
were  contested  in  sound  earnest.  The 
quarter-mile  furnished  as  pretty  a  race  as 
any.  Irwin-Martin  kept  along  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  bunch  until  they  were  well  op- 
posite the  grand  stand  on  the  far  side  of 
the  field,  when  he  pulled  ahead  strongly 


and  steadily,  and  finished  in  good  style.  His  effort  was 
a  strain  on  him,  however,  for  he  collapsed  as  soon  as 
he  had  breasted  the  tape.  For  this  reason  he  was  prob- 
ably not  in  his  best  form  when  he  toed  the  scratch  for 
the  half-mile,  but  it  is  doubtful  if  he  could  have  dis- 
tanced Meehan  even  if  he  had  been.  Mee- 
hau  proved  himself  to  be  in  the  pink  of 
condition.  Robinson,  the  old  Yale  runner 
who  has  been  training  him,  told  me  at  the 
start  that  Meehan  had  been  trained  to  do- 
the  first  quarter  in  60  seconds,  and  as  he 
passed  the  mark  the  watch  showed  just 
that  time.  He  was  leading  then,  and  kept 
right  ou,with  strong  graceful  strides  un- 
til he  finished,  and  broke  the  record  by 
one-  second.  Irwin-Martin  did  his  best 
to  pull  up  ;  but  Meehan  kept  ahead  easilx . 
with  a  broad  smile  on  his  face,  and  ap- 
peaivd  to  be  just  as  fresh  at  the  finish  as. 
lie  had  been  at  the  start. 

THE  MILE  RUN  was  another  pretty  race. 
There  must  have  been  more  than  twenty 
starters,  and  they  trotted  oft'  in  a  tight 
bunch,  sticking  well  together  for  three 
entire  laps.  Then  Tappin  gradually  pull- 
ed <mt  from  the  centre,  with  Mosenthal  and 
McC'ord  seesawing  behind  him.  He  kept 
increasing  his  lead,  and  although  Mosenthal  pushed  him 
pretty  hard,  he  finished  strong,  with  the  place  men  a  couple 
of  yards  behind,  and  the  field  straggling  as  far  back  as  the 
bend.  Blair  failed  to  come  up  to  his  promised  form,  and 
«  as  at  no  time  a  factor  in  the  race.  The  walk  was  practi- 
cally a  duel  between  Hackett  and  Walker.  Hackett  took 
the  lead,  and  Walker  stuck  close  to  his  heels,  making  sev- 
eral attempts  to  pass  him.  On  the  stretch  Walker  made 
one  last  desperate  effort,  and  walked  abreast  of  his  oppo- 
nent for  several  yards,  while  the  judge  of  walking  almost 
went  frantic  in  his  endeavors  to  keep  the  racers  down  to 
form.  Neither  broke,  however,  and  Hackett  won  by  a 
yard.  Walker  is  still  young  for  such  strong  work,  but  I 
am  sure  that  he  will  be  heard  from  within  the  nest  few 
years.  The  bicycle  racers  broke  the  in terscholastic record 
of  2  min.49J  sec.  in  ever}'  heat,  and  Powell's  final  race, 
which  brought  the  time  down  to  2  miu.  34i  sec.,  was  a 


FINAL  HEAT  IN  THE  120- YARD  HURDLES. 


537 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


N.Y.  I.S.  A.  A.  Record. 

^.•VMII*  t..  May  11,  181J5. 

N.  Y.  I.  S  A.  A.  Gamps,  l!erl«"l.-v  Oval,  New  York, 

M  n    1 

Long  Island  I.  S.  A.  A.  Games,  Eastern  Park,  Brooklyn, 
May  11,  IS'J.i. 

Winner. 

Perf.ii  n. 

Winner. 

Performance. 

10  S-S  sec. 

11  -I-'.   •• 

2'2  4-5     ' 
23  4-5     ' 
Ml 
••  Hi.    5  1-5     ' 
4    •'   52           ' 
7    "   302-5     ' 
16  1-5    " 
27  1-5   " 
2    "  493-5   " 

Moore,  Bnrnard 
Leech,  Cutler 
Mi  ii  ire,  Barnard 
Leech,  Cutlei 
Invin-Martin,  Berkeley 
Meelinn,  Condon 
Tappin.  Cutler 
Hacked,  Trinity 
Beers,  De  La  Sulle 
Si  me,  I'.iirnard 
Powell,  I'ntler 

10  3-5  sec. 
11         " 
2:1  1-5    " 
24  3-5    " 
533-5    " 
2m.    41-5    " 
5  "     4  3-5    " 
7  "     4  2-5    " 
153-5    " 
263-5    " 
2  "   34  1-5    " 

Stevens,  B.  L.  S. 
Robinson,  St.  PauPa 
Stevens,  B.  L.  S. 

10  3-5  sec. 

11 

253-5    ' 

ISl),   l"l    .Jlllll'irw  
l2'_'ll-\  :inl  ihish  

820-yard  <l:ish,  lor  Juniors  

Jewell,  Adelphi 
IVdCord,  B.  H.-S. 
Roiner,  B'klyn  Acad. 
Hall,  St.  Paul's 
Gnnnison,  Adelphi 
Gunnison,  Adelpbi 

553-5    ' 
2m.  133-5    ' 
5  "  12 
S  "  3T 

li;::-r,    • 
294-5    ' 

11    It'      "1  '  rim 

M   le  run  

220-yard  hurdles  

One-mile  bievde  

T\\  M-llllle  liieyi'le  
Rllliljinu'  hiL'li  jinn})  

Kunnini:  broad  jump  
Pole  vault  
Put  I  in1.:  I'^pimml  >lmt  
Throwing  12-poimil  h:iminer  .. 
Throwing  baseball  

5  ft.     9          in. 
21  "      5 
10  " 
89  "      1 
110  "      3  1-2    " 
325  "      9          " 

Baltazzi,  Harvard 
Cowperthwaite,  Col.  Grain. 
Simpson,  Barnard 
Ayers,  Coiiflmi 
Invin-Martin,  Berkeley 
Zizinia,  Harvard 

5ft,  11         ill. 
20    '      S 
111    '         3-8   " 
in    '         3-4    " 
111    '      41-2   " 
325  '      4          " 

Giinnison,  Adelphi 
Jewell,  Adelphi 
Phillips,  B.  &S. 
Mason,  Poly.  Prep. 
Mason,  Poly.  Prep. 

B  ft.    4  1-2  in. 
20  "     3  1-2  " 
9  "     7 
36  "     8 
100  "  11          " 

bountiful  contest.     Kluieli   pushed  liitn  hard  all  the  way, 

ami   finished  a  strong  si nil.     A  pleasing   feature  of  the 

event  was  that  only  one  collision  occurred,  aud  this  was  not 
serious. 

THE  BEST  PERFORMANCE  of  the  day,  from  an  athletic 
point  of  view,  was  Halta/./.i's  high  jumping.  He  was  in 
good  form,  and  won  the  event  by  clearing  5  ft. 7  in.  Then 
In-  had  the  bar  put  up  a  quarter  of  an  inch  above  the  inter- 
scholastie.  record  mark  of  5  ft.  9  in.,  and  cleared  it,  thus  in- 
suring for  himself  a  rcrnrd  medal.  The  "  take-oft'"  was  in 
bad  condition,  and  had  to  be  constantly  rolled.  There 
were  also  several  bad  holes  along  the  runway.  In  addi- 
tion to  this.  Haltax/.i's  right  shoe,  split,  and  afforded  him  al- 
most no  support.  N'evert.holess,  he  felt  that  he  could  do 
even  better  than  5  ft.'.M  in. .and  he  had  the  bar  raised  to  5 
ft.  11  in.  lie  failed  the  tirst  five  times  allowed  him  fora 
record  ti  ,  lint  on  the  sixth  he  gut  a  good  start,  cleared  the 
holes,  and  found  a  solid  spot  to  "take  off"  on,  and  cleared 
the  stick  as  neatly  and  gracefully  as  he  ever  did  at  5  ft.  5 
in.  He  had  never  before,  even  in  practice,  done  better 
than  5  ft.  10i  in.  Baltaz/,i  goes  to  Columbia  next,  year,  and 
will  be  a  factor  in  the  iutereollegiates  if  he  keeps  in  his 
present  form,  which  I  have  no  doubt  he  will.  I  expect  to 
see  him  go  beyond  6  feet  inside  of  two  years.  He  will 
doubtless  be  one  of  the  N. Y.A.C.'s  representati  ves  when  the 
English  athletes  come  over  here  this  year. 

THE  RECORDS  FOR  TIIK  OTHER  field  events,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  throwing  the  baseball  and  the  broad  jump,  were 


broken.  Ayres  bettered  the  shot  record  almost  by  a  foot, 
and  Irwin-Martin,  in  spite  of  his  hard  work  in  the  runs, 
threw  117  feet  4£  inches  with  the  hammer.  A  notable 


THE  I.  S.  HIGH-JUMP  RECORD. 
Bultazzi,  Harvard,  clearing  the  bar  at  5  ft.  11  in. 


THE  MILE  RUN. 


feature  of  this  event  was  that  every  place  man  in  it  sur- 
passed the  interscholastic  record,  the  third  man  bettering  it 
as  much  as  3  feet.  This  kind  of  work  is  most  encouraging, 
and  cannot  fail  to  raise  the  standard  of  the  contestants, 
and  create  a  most  beneficial  competition.  If  a  man  knows 
he  has  got  to  break  the  record  even  to  get  third  place, 
there  will  be  good  work  done.  Cowperthwaite,  as  I  had 
anticipated,  won  the  broad  jump  easily,  but  he  should  have 
gotten  closer  to  the  record  than  he  did.  He  covered  20  feet 
8  inches.  One  of  the  other  exciting  and  unexpected  features 
of  the  day  was  the  semi-final  in  the  Junior  100,  when  Leech 
left  the  field  about  ten  yards  behind.  He  will  make  a 
good  man  as  his  two  easy  victories  over  Wilson  will  attest. 

A  BETTER  EXHIBITION  of  tennis  than  that  offered  by  Ware, 
when  he  defeated  Whitman  in  the  final  match  on  Holmes 
Field, Cambridge,  last  week  Monday,  could  hardly  be  wished 
for.  The  Roxbury  player  was  decidedly  in  championship 
form,  and  although  he  won  in  three  straight  sets — 6-4,  6-3, 
7-5 — he  had  to  play  his  level  best,  for  Whitman  was  no 
easy  victim.  In  the  third  set  Ware  showed  what  he  was 
made  of.  The  games  were  5-2  against  him,  but  he  gathered 
himself  together,  played  a  cool,  careful  game,  displaying 
excellent  judgment  at  every  point,  aud  thus  pulled  out  the 
next  live  names, and  the  set.  It  was  exciting  throughout. 
Whitman  took  the  first  game.  His  opponent  got  the  second, 
and  both  were  then  playing  as  good  tennis  as  they  knew 
how,  with  the  advantage  temporarily  in  favor  of  Whitman. 
By  keeping  close  up  to  the  net  he  managed  to  fool  Ware  a 
guild  many  times,  at  the  same  time  saving  himself  from  com- 
mitting his  great  fault  of  banging  the  ball  into  the  net. 
This  Whitman  invariably  does  when  he  stands  hack.  Ware 
evidently  knew  his  antagonist's  style  of  play,  for  he  gradu- 
ally coaxed  Whitman  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  back  line, 
and  then  pounded  the  balls  at  him,  with  the  7-5  result. 
Ware  will  be  seen  at  a  number  of  tournaments  this  sum- 
mer, and  will  no  doubt  bring  a  triumphal  record  back  to 


538 


HAEPER'S  BOUND   TABLE 


SUMMARY    OF    POINTS    MADE. 


New  York  I.  S.  A.  A. 

Long  Island  I.  S.  A.  A. 

School. 

Firsts. 

Seconds. 

Thirds. 

Points. 

School. 

Firsts. 

Seconds. 

Thirds. 

Points. 

4 
2 

1 

0 
2 
4 
I 
0 
0 
0 
0 
2 
1 
0 
0 
0 
0 

2 
4 
0 
0 
0 
4 
0 
2 
0 
0 
0 
2 
0 
1 
0 
1 
1 

4 
5 
1-3 
0 
2 
21-2 
0 
0 
2 
0 
0 
0 
0 
0 
0 
0 
0 

30 
27 
51-2 
0 
12 
341-2 
5 
6 
2 
0 
0 
16 
5 
3 
0 
S 
3 

6 
3 

2 
2 
2 
0 
I) 

2 
3 
3 
3 
2 
2 
0 

:: 
5 
1 
1 
2 
1 
2 

39 
29 
20 

20 
IS 

7 
2 

Columbia  ln>tiliUe  

I  •|ir|,-r  

De  La  Salic  

Y'lle 

Roxbury  with  liira  in  the  fall.  He  will  play 
in  tbe  Western  Championship  Doubles  at 
Chicago,  in  the  Long  wood  npen  tourna- 
ment, as  well  as  in  th<j  Massachusetts  cham- 
pionships held  on  the  same  courts;  and  he 
•will  enter  the  lists  at  Newcastle,  Bar  Harbor, 
Narragausett  Pier,  and  Newport. 

AT  EASTERN  PARK  the  Adelphi  Academy 
athletes  swept  everything  before  them. 
Gunuison  andJewell  proved  to  be  surprises, 
the  former  winning  three  firsts  and  the 
latter  two  firsts  and  cue  second.  The  other 
members  of  the-  team  seconded  them  so  well, 
that  Adelphi  took  the  cup  with  10  points 
more  to  their  credit  than  their  nearest  rival, 
which  was  Poly.  Prep,  with  29.  It  is  to  be, 
regretted  that  there  was  any  hitch  over  the 
delivery  of  the  hurdles,  and  at  onetime  it 
seemed  as  if  those  two  events  would  have 
to  be  omitted ;  but  the  sticks  did  come,  and 
the  races  furnished  some  of  the  best  sport 
of  the  day.  The  Junior  100  gave  a  close 
finish,  and  the  220  furnished  an  exciting 
contest.  Stevens  took  it  from  Jewell,  who 
had  been  counted  a  winner,  but  Jewell  re- 
trieved himself  when  he  won  the  quarter 
handily,  it  being  his  first  attempt  at  running 
that  distance.  Bedford  was  somewhat  of  a 
disappointment  to  his  schoolmates,  who  ex- 
pected him  to  take  the  mile  for  B.H.-S.  in- 
stead of  allowing  it  to  go  to  Adelphi,  but 
he  ran  the  half-mile  in  good  time,  and  took 
second  in  the  longer  distance.  The  walk 
was  most  interesting  too.  Clark  and  Stars 
were  fairly  in  lock-step  behind  Hall,  and  it 
was  nip  and  tuck  with  the  three  until  the 
tape  was  broken. 

THE  BICTCLE  RACE,  in  which  the  Long 
Island  record  was  lowered  If  seconds,  was 
run  under  the  rules  of  the  L.A.W.,  and  with 
the  sanction  of  the  L.A.W.  Racing  Board. 
This  is  the  first  school  race  to  be  so  run. 
The  final  heat  looked  like  a  dead  heat  be- 
tween Roehr  and  Hazeltiue,  and  I  have  no 
doubt  that  if  tbe  two  had  set  the  pace  earlier 
in  the  race  the  record  would  have  been 
greatly  bettered.  In  thepole  vault  Phillips 
beat  his  own  record  of  9  feet  by  7  inches, 
and  the  hammer  record  was  increased  by 
over  24  feet.  Mason  threw  100  ft.  11  in. 
Sm ne  of  the  other  records  that  were  smashed 
were  the  mile  run,  which  was  lowered  2! 
seconds;  Bedford  brought  down  the  half- 
mile  record  from  2  min.  17|  sec.  to  2  min. 
12|  sec.;  Gnnnisou  made  the  record  in  the 
high  hurdles  read  16|  sec.  instead  of  18|  sec. 
The  record  for  the  100  was  broken  three 


times.  In  the  final  heat  the  time  was  10| 
sec.,  and  in  the  second  and  third  heats  it 
was  10?  sec.  and  10J  sec.  respectively.  Ste- 
vens made  the  best  time. 

THE  ACCOMPANYING  TABLE  offers  a  com- 
parison of  the  work  done  on  the  two  tracks, 
and  will  serve  as  a  record  of  the  day's  doings. 
Space  prevents  my  inserting  a  comparative 
table  of  the  iuterscholastic  and  intercol- 
legiate records,  but  I  shall  do  that  at  an 
early  date,  and  the  showing  will  by  no 
means  discredit  the  school  athletes.  The 
only  difference  between  the  New  York  and 
Long  Island  programmes  is  that  the  New- 
Yorkers  run  a  one-mile  bicycle  race,  while 
the  athletes  on  the  other  side  of  the  Bridge 
cover  two  miles  in  that  event.  And  they 
do  not  throw  the  baseball.  They  are  right. 
The  event  is  not  athletic. 

THE  YALE  IXTERSCHOLASTIC  Tennis  Tour- 
nament was  held  in  New  Haven  on  the  same 
date  as  Harvard's  in  Cambridge,  and  al- 
though the  entries  were  not  so  many  from 
the  Connecticut  schools,  the  work  of  the 
players  was  excellent.  The  winner  was  J.  P. 
Sheldon,  of  Hotehkiss  Academy,  who  held 
the  championship  of  Ohio  before  he  came 
East  to  attend  school  at  Lakeville.  Shel- 
don's hottest  matches  were  against  Sage 
and  Trowbridge,  who  was  last  year's  cham- 
pion. He  defeated  Sage  in  two  sets,  7-5, 


6-2,  and  overcame  Trowbridge  only  after 
three  stubbornly  contested  sets,  8-G,  (i-2, 
6-4.  Last  year  Trowbridge  did  not  com- 
pete at  Newport,  and  it  is  Sheldon's  inten- 
tion now  to  follow  his  schoolmate's  example. 
I  hope  he  will  change  bis  mind,  for  it  is  to 
the  interest  of  sport  that  the  ablest  players 
should  meet,  aside  from  the  mere  question 
of  determining  which  one  is  actually  the 
strongest. 

THE  INTERSCHOLASTIC  RELAY  RACES, 
held  on  Franklin  Field, Philadelphia, April 
20th,  at  the  same  time  as  the  Intercollegiate 
relay  races,  developed  the  fact  that  the 
schools,  in  point  of  time,  made  almost  as 
good  a  showing  as  the  colleges.  The  best 
collegiate  performance  of  the  day  was  Har- 
vard's defeat  of  the  University  of  Pennsyl- 
vania in  3  m.34|sec.  Tlie  poorest  winning 
time  was  made  by  C.  C.  N.  Y. — 3  in.  ~>7>\  see. 
The  fastest  time  by  a  school  team  was  made 
by  the  Central  High-School,  which  defeated 
the  Manual  Training  School  in  3  m.  57^  sec. 
The  most  interesting  scholastic  contest  was 
between  De  Lancey  and  Episcopal  Academy. 
Episcopal  gained  the  lead  in  the  first  lap, 
only  to  lose  it  in  the  second,  but  regained  it 
in  the  final  quarter  when  only  75  yards  from 
home.  Here  Ogelsby,  spent  with  his  hard 
run,  could  not  go  another  step,  and  fell  to 
the  ground,  leaving  Kuors  to  finish  in  a 
canter. 

THE  GRADUATE. 


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BROWNIE  STAMPS. 

More  fun  than  a  barrel  of  monkeys,  A  complete  set  of 
three  grotesque  little  people  willi  everlasting  Ink  pods. 
With  tbem  a  boy  can  make  a  circus  in  a  minute.  To  intro- 
duce OUT  big  Catalog  of  1UUU  new  articles,  wo  aend  tba 
Brownies  postpaid  for  lOo. 
It.  H.  Ingersoll  &  KM,.  65  CortlandtSt.  -N.  V.  ( it j. 


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539 


HARPEB'S  BOUND  TABLE 


BICYCLING 


This  Department  is  conducted  in  the  interest  of  Bicyclers,  and  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to 
answer  any  question  on  tbe  subject.  Our  maps  and  tonrs  contain  much  valuable  data  kindly 
supplied  from  the  official  maps  and  road-books  of  the  League  of  American  Wheelmen.  Recoe- 
nizinK  the  value  of  the  work  being  done  by  the  L.  A.  W.  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to  furnish 
subscribers  with  membership  blanks  and  information  so  far  as  possible. 

rilHE  BICYCLE  IJOVTK  this  week  is  one  of  the  pleasantest 
_L  iu  the  vicinity  of  New  York  city.  It  is  the  ruu  across 
Staten  Island.  The  reader  should  study  the  map  of  New 
York  city  published  in  No.  809,  and  find  the  best  way  in 
which  to  reach  South  Ferry.  If  he  is  a  skilful  rider,  he 
may  take  the  middle  track  of  the  cable-car  (Broadway 
route),  and  follow  that  down  Broadway ;  if  not,  he  must 
come  down  towards  South  Ferry  through  the  east  side  of 
New  York.  Arrived  at  South  Ferry,  take  the  Staten  Island 
ferry-boat  to  St.  George.  On  leaving  the  ferry  at  St.  George 


Copyright,  1895,  by  Harper  &  Brothers. 


he  should  turn  to  the  left,  go  up  a  rather  steep  hill,  nml 
take  the  third  street  to  the  left — that  is,  Stuyvesant  Place 
and  Avenue,  and  running  along  this  southward  take  the 
third  street  to  the  right,  and  after  going  one  block  upon 
this  turn  to  the  left  into  Central  Avenue.  He  should 
keep  on  Central  Avenue  until  he  reaches  Tompkius  Ave- 
nue, which  is  the  first  turn  to  the  right ;  then,  going  south- 
ward on  Tompkins  Avenue,  he  should  turn  into  Bay  Street, 
and  continue  on  Bay  Street  until  he  approaches  Clifton, 
having  passed  through  Tompkinsville  and  Stapletmi.  Just 
before  reaching  Clifton  station  he  (should  turn  right  into 
Richmond  road,  and  continue  through  Concord,  Grassmere, 
Linden  Park,  Garretson,  and  Grant  City,  until  just a  ft  IT  Ira  \  - 
ing  a  large  cemetery  on  the  right,  he  runs  into  New  Dorp. 

AT  THE  BLACK  HORSE  TAVEHX  in  New  Dorp,  which,  hy- 
the-way,  is  the  only  place  to  stop  at,  turn  to  the  left  into 
Anilioy  Road,  pass  the  Court-house  on  the  left ;  then  about 
a  mile  farther  on  cross  the  railroad  and  run  into  Giftbrds. 
Another  mile,  and  the  rider  passes  through  Ettingville. 
This  part  of  the  road,  from  New  Dorp  through 
Ettiugville,  is  more  or  less  hilly,  but  the.  road 
here,  as  elsewhere  for  the  entire  route,  is  iu 
excellent  condition,  and  is  macadamized. 
From  Ettingville  the  rider  passes  through 
Annauilale,  Huguenot,  crosses  the  railway 
again,  continues  on  through  Prince's  Bay, 
thence  to  Pleasant  Plains,  crossing  track 
again,  and  a  mile  further  on  enters  Richmond 
Valley.  He  then  keeps  to  the  main  road, 
which  is  the  left-hand  turn  in  Richmond  Val- 
ley, and  proceeds  until  he  reaches  the  out- 
skirts of  Totteuville,  where,  turning  sharp  to 
the.  right,  he  enters  Main  Street,  and  may 
make  a  stop  at  the  West  End  Hotel;  but  if 
he  is  going  further  (for  this  is  the  most  direct 
route  through  New  Jersey  to  the  South),  he 
may  ride  down  to  the  Amboy  Valley. 


IT  is  V;ELL  worth  the  wheelman's  while  to 
continue  ou  towards  Clifton  after  leaving 
Stapletou,  instead  of  turning  to  the  right  into 
Richmond  road,  and,  continuing  through  Clif- 
ton, to  run  down  to  Fort  Wadsworth,  which 
is  one  of  the  important  inner  forts  of  the 
harbor,  and  commands  a  view  of  the  Lower 
Bay.  By  keeping  to  this  road  after  leaving 
Fort  YVadsworth,  and  following  it  as  it  turns 
sharply  to  the  right, he  can  run  down  tow  arils 
South  Beach,  and  join  the  Richmond  road 
again  just  as  he  enters  Linden  Park.  Further- 
more, after  leaving  the  Court-house,  a  mile  or 
more  beyond  New  Dorp,  a  road  turns  sharply 
to  the  right  running  up  into  the  hills;  and 
'from  Richmond,  which  is  perhaps  a  mile  and 
a  half  away,  he  may  leave  his  wheel  and 
climb  up  to  the  old  Lookout,  where  once  stood 
a  fort  of  thij  Revolutionary  War.  The  view 
(Venn  here  commands  most  of  the  island  and 
the  Lower  liny,  and  is  one  of  the  best  in  the 
vicinity  of  New  York  city.  There  is  a  short 
ride  over  a  good  road  from  St.  George  along 
the  northern  boundary  of  Staten  Island,  run- 
ning through  New  Brighton,  Snug  Harbor. 
Livingston,  West  New-  Brighton,  Port  Rich- 
mond, Tower  Hill,  etc.,  down  to  Bowniau's 
Point  ;  and  it  is  possible  for  the  rider  to  take 
this  road,  turning  off  at  Tower  Hill  to  the 
left,  on  the  Port  Richmond  road,  running  across 
t  In'  island  through  New  Spriugville  and  Green 
Ridge  ou  to  the  Richmond  road  at  Etting- 
ville. This  Port  Richmond  road,  however,  is 
hilly,  and  though  in  moderately  good  condi- 
tion, is  not  to  be  compared  with  the  Richmond 
road . 

NOTE.— Map  of  New  York  city  asphalted  streets  in 
No.  809.  jVIuji  of  route  from  New  York  to  Tarrvtown  in 
No.  810.  New  York  to  Stamford,  Connecticut,  iu  No. 
811. 


540 


HAEPEE'S  BOUND   TABLE 


Tliia  Department  is  conihietnl 
Women,  Hrul  the  Editor  will  be 
the  suhject  so  far  a8  possible.  Co 


ple 


iteit  of  Girl»  »nd  Yon 
s  should  address  Edito 


rnilESE  are  very  busy  days  for  some  of 
_l_  yon,  because,  as  we  all  know,  school 
examinations  are  just  in  advance.  I  \\;i> 
talking  with  a  girl  friend  this  morning, 
and  she  said  she  did  not  at  all  mind  exam- 
inations, because  she  was  very  thorough 
\\ithlier\vork  alb  through  the  term.  She 
said,  "  By  never  slighting  anything  from 
the  beginning  of  the  term  to  the  end,  I  find 
I  do  not  have  any  harder  work  at  the  end 
than  at  the  beginning."  I  wish  that  all 
young  people — and,  for  that  matter,  older 
ones,  too — would  imitate  her  example.  It 
is  a  good  plan  to  lie  thorough  with  what  we 
do,  and  to  establish  a  reputation  for  being 
so  among  our  friends,  so  that  people  may 
know  that  they  can  always  depend  on  ns. 
A  lack  of  this  quality  of  thoroughness  often 
leads  to  very  grave  accidents.  A  ship  has 
gone  do\vu  before  now  in  mid-ocean  because 
of  the  unfaithfulness  of  somebody  who  had 
to  do  with  its  building,  and  from  time  to 
time  tall  houses  fall  and  people  are  killed 
because  architects  or  carpenters  were  un- 
faithful when  constructing  the  rickety 
tilings,  and  allowed  flaws  to  pass,  and  were 
contented  with  makeshifts.  Our  rule 
should  be  not  to  slight  our  work,  but  al- 
ways to  do  it  in  the  best  possible  manner. 

THE  habit  of  thoroughness  in  housekeep- 
ing leads  one  to  keep  rooms  in  good  order 
and  the  table  beautifully  appointed.  I 
know  a  girl  who  says  that  she  takes  great 
pains  with  her  room  whenever  she  thinks 
her  aunt  Mary  is  coming  to  see  her,  because 
Aunt  Mary's  sharp  eyes  discover  every 
speck  of  dust,  and  observe  any  trifle  that  is 
in  the  least  out  of  order.  Aunt  Mary  is  a 
bit  of  a  critic,  and  her  niece  a  little  afraid 
of  her  comments. 

In  other  words,  the  aunt  has  made  a  cow- 
ard of  the  girl.  I  do  not  like  the  idea  of 
being  in  bondage  to  anybody,  whether  an 
aunt  or  a  stranger.  It  would  seem  to  me  a 
far  better  way  to  feel  that  one  must  answer 
to  one's  self,  and  that  one  would  not  feel 
satisfied  unless  she  could  look  herself  in  the 
glass  and  say:  "There,  everything  is  done 
in  the  best  possible  manner,  and  you  can- 
not find  any  fault  with  me  to-day.  Try  to, 
if  you  dare !" 

I  WONDER  whether  you  are  particular  to 
write  notes  of  thanks  very  soon  after  re- 
ceiving gifts  or  acts  of  courtesy?  The 
value  of  a  note  of  thanks  is  greatly  in- 
creased by  its  being  prompt.  If  some  friend 
leaves  a  bunch  of  violets  at  your  door,  and 
you  fail  to  acknowledge  it  until  the  flowers 
have  faded,  your  thanks,  when  they  do 
come,  are  tardy.  When  flowers  are  sent  to 
those  who  are  ill,  they,  of  course,  cannot 
repay  the  courtesy  by  a  little  note  them- 
selves, but  some  one  in  the  family  should 
do  it  for  them.  Your  note  of  thanks  should 
be  very  genial,  showing  that  yon  are  really 
pleased  by  the  kind  attention  and  the  hap- 
pier because  of  it.  Do  not  be  afraid  to 
write  warmly  and  cordially  on  such  occa- 
sions. If  stift"  and  formal  you  are  unjust 
both  to  your  friend  and  yourself. 


SPEAKING  of  illness,  it  happens  that  some 
of  you  have  to  take  care  of  those  who  are 
ill,  and  it  is  worth  while  to  cultivate  a  way 
of  moving  lightly  and  quietly  about  a  sick 
room.  One  should  never  wear  creaking 
shoes  nor  a  rustling  dress  in  a  room  where 
any  one  is  ill.  The  nerves  of  people  in  ill- 
ness are  very  acute  and  sensitive  to  every 
sound.  A  friend  recovering  from  a  long  at- 
tack of  typhoid  fever  told  me  that,  while 
she  was  convalescent,  she  was  nearly  driven 
frantic  by  the  fact  that  her  nurse,  writing 
notes  in  her  room,  used  a  pen  which 
scratched  on  the  paper.  Even  this  little 
noise  was  most  distressing  to  her  in  her 
weak  state,  and  she  said  that  when  the 
same  nurse  begau  to  sew  by  her  bed  she 
could  hear  the  sound  of  the  thread  going 
through  the  muslin,  and  it  seemed  to  her  so 
loud  and  jarring  that  she  could  not  bear  it. 
I  have  known  a  person  suffering  from  a 
severe  headache  in  the  third  story  of  a 
house  to  be  greatly  distressed  by  noises  in 
the  kitchen,  a  long  way  below.  You  see, 
we  cannot  be  too  careful  to  be  very  gentle 
in  our  movements  and  quiet  in  our  man- 
ner when  we  are  with  those  who  are  not 
well. 

C-  S.  M.  —  In  reply  to  your  inquiry  concerning  the 
heat  schools  for  studying  designing  in  New  York 
city,  we  should  advise  the  School  of  Applied  Design 
for  Women,  Twenty-third  Street,  and  Seventh  Avenue, 
tuition  $60  a  year,  and  Cooper  Institute,  Ninth  Street 
and  Third  Avenue,  tuition  almost  free.  In  Philadel- 
phia, the  Drexel  Institute  and  the  Pennsylvania  Mu- 
seum and  School  of  Industrial  Art,  Thirteenth  and 
Spring  Garden  streets.  lu  Boston,  the  Museum  of 
Fine  Arts.  Any  of  these  schools  is  suitahle  for  your 
purpose. 


/ 


STARVED  TO  DEATH 

in  millet  of  plenty.  Unforlumue,  yet  we  hear  of  it. 
The  Gail  Borden  Eagle  Brand  Condensed  Milk  is  un- 
doubtedly the  Siifest  and  best  infant  food.  Infant 
Health  is  avaluable  pamphlet  for  mothers.  Send  your 
address  to  N.  Y.  Condensed  Milk  Co.,  N.  Y.—  [Adv.] 


Scott's  Emulsion 

is  Cod-liver  Oil  emulsified,  or 
made  easy  of  digestion  and  as- 
similation. To  this  is  added  the 
Hypophosphites  of  Lime  and 
Soda,  which  aid  in  the  digestion 
of  the  Oil  and  increase  materially 
the  potency  of  both.  It  is  a  re- 
markable flesh-producer.  Ema- 
ciated, ansemic  and  consumptive 
persons  gain  flesh  upon  it  very 
rapidly.  The  combination  is  a 
most  happy  one 

Physicians  recognize  its  su- 
perior merit  in  all  conditions  of 
wasting.  It  has  had  the  en- 
dorsement of  the  medical  pro- 
fession for  20  years. 

Don't  beper&uacted  to  take  a  substitute? 
Scott  &  Bowne,  N.  Y.    All  Druggists.     50c.  and$l, 

541 


Co 

Summer  Underwear 

Ladies'  and  Children's 

Silk-and-Wool     Underwear, 

Merino    Underwear, 

Union  Suits. 

SWISS     RIBBED     SILK,     LISLE  -  THREAD, 
AND  WOOL  UNDERWEAR. 

Cartwright   &  Warner's 
CELEBRATED  UNDERWEAR. 


HOSIERY 
GLOVES 


CAJ 


NEW  YORK  CITY. 


The  price  has  nothing   to  do 
with  the 

FIT 

For  ALL,  of  Dr.  Warner's  Cor- 
sets are  fitted  to  living  models. 

Prices  from  one  to  six  dollars  each. 


Stamps, 


All.  r 


I  K»»  fine  mixed  Victoria.  Cape  of  G. 

!   H..  India.  Japan,  etc..  with  fine  Stamp 
ly     lOr.       New   So-  p.   1'rke  -  list    free. 
Jgcnli  naultii  M  Ml%  co  ......  ission.     STANDAKD 

STAMP  CO..  4  Nicholson  Place.  St.  I-ouis,  Mo.  Old 
U.  S.  and  Confederate  Stamps  bought. 

100  all  dif.  Venezuela,  C'osta  Rico,  etc.,  only 
10c.;  200  all  dif.  Hay  ti,  Hawaii,  etc.  ,  only  50c. 
Ag'ts  wanted  at  BO  per  ct.com.  List  FREE1 
C.A.Steglnailll,'2?2aEadsAv.,St.Lotli8,SIo. 


var.,  all  dif.,  5c.;  12  var.   Heligoland, 
_   _  __^     ISc.;  6  var.  Italy,  185S  to  1S62, 5c. ;  3  var. 
Hanover,  sc.:  SB  var.  C'.AmiM-iciln.Bnc.  Agents  warned. 
F.  «'.  M1LLEK,  904  OliTe  St.,  St.  Louis,  Mo. 

POSTAGE   DUES.— 50c.   and  30c.,  at  70c.  each;   the 
pair  for  $1.25  Diamond  Stamp  to., (jeriiiautotvn, Pa. 


FALSE 


MUSTACHES  AND 

GOATEES. 


. 

Fun  for  theboya, 
a  complete  dis- 
cuiM!;  Fine  hair 
Roods!  As  Sample 


,,;  , 


,,r  i, 


ties,  we  st-ml  one  of  each  with  lari,'->  Oitalntrue  fur  IOC. 

R.  H.  IHGERSOLL  &  BRO.,  65  CORTUNDT  ST.,  N.  Y.  CITT. 


HARPER'S   BOUND   TABLE 


Two  Exciting  Puzzle  Contests  Ended. 

ENI>EAVOKINO  to  favor  the  T.viu.i.  with  an  easy  puz- 
zle, since  many  said  the  questions  were  too  hard,  a 
II i  of  correct  answers  resulted  in  the  Authors'  Oat- 
Lug  i  •oiliest,  ami,  iii  acrordaiice  with  the  rule,  n  sec- 
om!  eonlest,  had  to  be  held.  Here  are  correct  answers 
To  i  lie  onL'ih;il  e. .ntest: 

1.  Moore  — Moor.  2.  Gay.  3.  Yonge.  4.  Lot's 
wile,  f..  The  mulberry  is  said  to  have  turned  red  be- 
cause Pyramus  killed  himself  at,  the  root  of  the  tree, 
in  i  lie  belief  that  Thisbe  hud  been  devoured  by  a 
lion  6.  Bacon.  7.  Hogg.  ,H.  Kuskin.  it.  Lemon.  10. 
Kohinson  Crusoe's  man  Friday.  11.  Dickens.  12. 
Uaiis.  13.  Bangs.  14.  Theodore  Child.  15.  But- 
ler. 16.  Canning.  17.  Hawthorne.  IS.  February. 
19.  Reade.  20.  Swift.  21.  Howitt— How  it.  22. 
Motherwell.  23.  Scott— Scot.  24.  Hood.  25.  Lamb. 
26.  Lover.  27.  Harlc.  2S.  Twain.  !!!l.  Sponsor.  30. 
Akenside.  ::l.  II. .Hand.  ::•.'.  Sienie.  33.  Cooper.  34. 
Smiles.  35.  Wordsworth.  36.  Goldsmith.  37.  Shel- 
ley. 3S.  Borrow.  39.  Sreele.  40.  Santa  flans. 

A  set  of  35  new  questions  was  prepared  and  sent 
by  mail,  to  tho-e  who  gave  the  foregoing  correct  an- 
swers. Thus  the  ties  \verf  played  oft',  so  to  speak, 
unsuccessful  contestants  anil  outsiders  being  barred. 
Following  are  answers  to  the  new  questions.  In  some 
cases  l lie  questions  themselves  are  given,  since  they 
have  not  before  been  published.  It  was  asked  who 
wrote  these : 

1  "The  Widowed  Heart,"  Albert  Pike;  2  "The 
Revellers,"  William  Davis  Gallagher,  Mrs.  Ilemans; 
s  "The  Remarkable  Wreck  of  the  Tlmmus  Hi/Ice," 
Frank  H.  Stockton;  «  '-Sicily  Burns's  Wedding," 
Geo.  W.  Harris;  5  "The  Tar  Baby,"  Joel  Chandler 
Harris-  '  "The  Only  Daughter,"  Harriett  Campbell, 
O.  VV.  Holmes,  Mrs.  Hem  y  Wood;  '  "The  Semi-at- 
tached Couple,"  Hon.  Emily  Eden  :  8  "Marco  Bozza- 
ris,"  Fitz-Greene  Halleck;  '  "The  Buckwheat  Cake," 
Henry  Pickering;  »  "Adams  and  Liberty,"  Robert 
Treat  Paine,  Jr. 

Four  riddles  were  propounded: 

»  The  Ghost  in  Hamlet.     -»  La  Grippe. 

18  Four  of  a  kind,  four  of  a  name, 

Loving  one  who  was  called  the  same. 
Her  star  of  good-luck  went  steadily  down, 
She  lost  her  life  when  she  lost  her  crown; 
But  they  served  her  fondly  till  all  was  o'er, 
These  four  of  a  name,  these  faithful  four. 

—The  Four  Marys  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots. 

25  We  are  boon  companions  and  nearly  inseparable. 
We  lake  interminable  journeys  together,  travelling 
over  almost  incalculable  distances;  always  work  to- 
gether, and  take  our  vacations  at  the  same  lime.  We 
may  be  found  in  every  civilized  portion  of  the  globe 
—useful  alike  in  the  king's  palace,  the  peasant's  hut, 
the  Indian's  wigwam,  the  hospital  ward,  and  the  ship 
at  sea.  Yet  in  some  respects  we  are  entirely  differ- 
ent, for  while  I  can  adapt  myself  to  every  situation 
with  perfect  ease,  my  companion  is  very  set  in  his 
wayH,  but  together  we  bring  order,  comfort,  and 
beauty  wherever  we  go.  After  the  labor  of  years  and 
he  is  laid  aside,  my  work  remains  to  cheer  and  glad- 
den many  hearts,  sometimes  preserving  family  his- 
tory \\liich  would  otherwise  be  forgotten.  And  yet, 
m.i'rvcllons  to  relate,  we  have  neither  hands,  feet, 
head,  nor  body. — Needle  and  Thread. 

Nos.  12  to  17  weiv  ((notations  from  the  poets,  and 
their  answers  are  :  '-  sir  Walter  Raleigh,  on  the  snuff 
of  a  candle  ;  13  Pope  ;  '»  The  Serenade.  J.  G.  Percival ; 
>6  War  Song  of  Revolution,  John  Neal ;  '»  Youth  and 
Age,  Richard  Dabuey;  "  The  New  Roof,  Francis 
Uopkinson. 

Contestants  were  asked  to  name  the  works  in  which 
the  following  characters  appear.  Answers  are  here 
given:  '8  Froth,  Measure  for  Measure;  2»  Shallow, 


"iveil  :     '      rroin,  measure    101    IUCIIE  uc,     —    oiiiiu.iv>, 

Merry   Wives    of  Windsor;    21  Godfrey   Ablewhite, 
Moonstone,  by  Collins;  "  Edmund  Gray,  Ivory  Gate, 
l      ant;   -3  Gwendolen  Harleth.  Daniel  Deronda, 


lace. 

These  questions  were  asked.  Answers  are  here 
LM  veil  after  each  : 

"»  A  book  wherein  the  heroine's  name  is  not  once 
mentioned.— "  Rntliidge,"  "She."  30  What  famous 
characler  is  it  who,  whether  in  doors  or  (.nt,  summer 
or  winter,  always  keeps  a  glove  on  one  hand? — M. 
llamel  in  Mrs.  Uclwards's  "Hand  ami  Glove." 
:1  What  one  was  it  who  always  offered  bis  left  hand 
to  his  friends  because  of  the  guilty  deed  done  by  the 
right?— ISnsene  Aram.  3!  Name  the  fellow  who,  in 
a  famous  book,  stands  chewing  the  rust  from  his 
ttllgei  When  be  reaches  home  he  will  probably  find 
In-  wife  "prayin1  agin'"  him.— Jerry  Cruncher.  ss  A 
ehaiai-ter  in  another  book  who  was  the  first  to  ride 
on  horseback  from  New  York  to  San  Francisco.— 
Willard  Glazier,  John  C.  Fremont,  John  Brent.  34  The 
book  wherein  one  person  calls  upon  another,  and  re- 
in  answer,  though  they  are  miles  apart. — Jane 
l  fie,  Peter  ll.betson. 

In  No.  ;:3  it  was  found  that  authorities,  equally 
credible,  dim  led.  Hence  the  question  was  dropped, 
au.l  no  matter  what  was  the  auswer  it  was  coirhted 

The  prizes  were  fj.'i  divided,  but  $10  to  first.  The 
amount  awarded  is  slightly  increased.  The  hi-lnM 
honor  goes  to  George  Peirre,  who  is  a  Pennsyl- 


vania!], aged  12.  He  answered  correctly  all  but  two 
of  the  questions.  Second  prizes  of  $2  each  go  to 
Lois  A.  Howling,  of  New  York  (Rochesteri,  and 
John  II.  Campbell,  Jr.,  of  Pennsylvania  (German- 
town)  ;  and  third  prizes  of  $1  each  to  the  following  : 
Harry  Nelson  Morey,  New  York;  Henry  S.  Parsons, 
Massachusetts;  John  J.  Clarkson,  Helen  J.  Curley, 
and  Martin  Henueberry,  Illinois;  Charles  A.  Urner 
and  Frank  A.  Urner,  New  Jersey;  Pierre  Freret, 
Louisiana;  Edmund  T.  M.  Franklin,  Virginia;  Kath- 
rine  S.  Frost,  Massachusetts;  Edith  L.  Warner  and 
!•:.!  i  Hi  C.  Sanders,  Maryland,  and  Mae  Sterner,  Penn- 
sylvania. 

Some  Questions  (or  the  Founders. 

Now  tuat  our  Order  has  been  so  conspicuously 
honored  as  to  have  a  great  journal  named  for  it, 
there  arise  a  few  questions  for  the  Founders  to 
vote  upon.  First,  the  Founders  and  all  otber  mem- 
bers are  asked  to  note  that  although  the  whole 
paper  is  named  for  their  Order,  that  Order  has  not 
a  less  but  a  greater  place  in  it,  and,  instead  of  a 
few  pages  being  devoted  to  them,  now  the  whole 
paper  will  seek  to  give  them  everything  necessary 
to  their  growth  in  that  "goodlye  felloeship,  wor- 
thie  knowledge,  and  chivalrie  up  to  date  "  which 
form  the  grand  basis  of  our  union. 

The  questions  to  be  voted  on  are  these  : 

1.  Shall  we  abolish  or  retain  the  eighteen-years- 
t>f -age  limit? 

2.  Shall  we  have  a  new  membership  certificate? 

3.  Shall  we  have  a  new  and  different  badge? 
The  reasons  for  bringing  up  these  questions  are  : 

A  great  many  lament  the  arrival  of  their  eighteenth 
birthday,  when  they  can  no  longer  be  members. 
They  ask  to  remain  in  the  Order,  and  suggest  that 
all  competitions  be  limited,  as  heretofore,  to  the 
eighteen-year-age  limit.  To  tbe  latter  we  agree, 
promising  to  always  limit  the  age  to  eighteen  years, 
as  heretofore,  and  offering,  if  the  Founders  agree 
thereto,  to  have  a  competition  for  those  above 
eighteen  years.  If  it  succeeds,  to  have  competi- 
tions for  both  ages,  as  opportunity  offers.  What 
say  you?  Again,  it  is  necessary  to  drop  the  name 
"Young  People"  from  our  certificate.  In  doing 
so  why  not  have  a  handsomer  one,  and  call  it  a 
"patent,"  which  is  a  better  name  than  "certifi- 
cate." It  may  be  printed  in  the  Order's  colors, 
yellow  and  blue. 

New  patents  would  be  issued  to  all  old  members 
who  cared  to  ask  for  them.  Once  more,  what  say 
you?  Still  again,  our  badge,  adopted  in  the  early 
history  of  the  Order,  has  met  some  objections.  It 
is  five  pansy  leaves,  bearing  the  letters  "K.  L.  O. 
I{.  T."  A  Founder  living  in  Winchester,  England, 
described  for  us  once,  you  remember,  what  is 
claimed  to  be  the  original  Table  used  by  King 
Arthur  and  his  Knights  of  the  Holy  Grail,  still  pre- 
served in  Winchester  Cathedral.  This  Founder 
suggests  a  badge  that  is  a  fac-simile  of  the  top  of 
this  Table.  He  sends  a  print  of  it,  with  the  ancient 
names, etc.  The  letters  "K.  L.  O.  R.  TV'can  be  re- 
tained. It  is  necessary  to  have  badges  low  in 
price,  since  many  ought  not  to  afford  expensive 
ones,  and  therefore  we  shall  need  to  retain 
silver  for  their  material.  It  will  be  possible, 
though,  to  procure  gold  ones  for  those  who  special- 
ly  order  them.  For  the  third  question,  we  repeat, 
what  is  the  Founders'  pleasure? 

Founders  of  the  order  are  the  5000  original  mem- 
bers. Those  who  have  not  passed  their  eighteenth 
birthday  are  asUod  to  write  us  frankly.  A  postal 
card  will  do.  We  shall  be  governed  by  your  votes. 
We  may  add,  for  the  benefit  of  all,  that  our  Order 
is  to  have  a  great  many  attractive  offers  during 
the  next  twelve  months.  The  "feast"  is  to  be  a 
rich  one,  and  we  hope  every  one  of  you  will  re- 
main around  the  Table  and  enjoy  it. 


TRouno  liable  Cbapters. 

No.  693.— The  Thaddeus  Stevens  Chapter,  of  Phil- 
adelphia, Pa.  Its  meetings  are  held  on  Thursday  of 
each  week.  The  initiation  fee  is  one  dollar.  Hor- 
ace S.  Reis,  910  North  Broad  Street. 

No.  694.— The  Quannapowitt.  ( 'hapter,  of  Wake- 
field,  Mass.  Charles  Wait.  George  Tompson  ;  Ralph 
Carlisle,  president.  9  Summit  Avenue. 

No.  695.— The  Columbus  Chapter,  of  (''olumbus, 
iihio  Carl  B.  Harrop,  Edward  E.  Stollghtou; 
George  cr.it. I.  r.'v.i  High  hind  Street, 

N.I  (i'.tii  —  Tiie  Kirk  Monroe  chapter,  of  Nnttall- 
Imrg,  W.  Yu.  E.  Jackson  Taylor,  John  Nuttall, 
Jun.,  Nuttallbnrg 

542 


No.  697.— The  Kes-Kes  Kick  Chapter,  of  Yonkers, 
N.  Y.  J.  Fowler  Trow,  Jun.,  Mary  Van  Rensselaer 
Ferris.  Its  meetings  are  held  on  Tuesdays.  Chap- 
ter address,  488  Warburton  Ave. 

No.  698.— The  Admiral  Benliam  Chapter,  of  Fort 
Adams,  Newport,  H.  I.  Its  officers  are  Stephen  C. 
Row;in,  Elizabeth  Schenck  Lee  Simpson,  Anna 
Greble  ;  Carol  H.  Simpson,  care  of  Lieutenant  Simp- 
son, Fort  Adams. 

No.  699. — The  Thomas  Edison  Chapter,  of  Ban- 
gor.  Me.  Fred  H.  Pond,  Arthur  A.  Thompson,  Myr- 
tie  D.  Fox, Nellie  M-  Fox,  Bangor. 

No.  TOO  —The  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  Chapter, 
of  Eau  Claire,  Wis.  George  D.  Galloway,  Eau 
Claire. 

No.  701.— The  Sheridan  Chapter,  of  Philadelphia, 
Pa.  Martin  S.  Poulson,  John  M  Smith.  Oland  King, 
George  Frey.  Lydie  Holmes;  Reese  Baker,  Section 
C.,Girard  College. 

No.  702.— The  Kirk  Munroe  Chapter,  of  Auburn, 
Wash.  J.  French  Dorrance,  corresponding  secre- 
tary, Box  17,  Auburn. 

No.  703. — The-Keystone  Music  and  Literary  Chap- 
ter, of  Harrisburg,  Pa.  R.  Donald  Jenkins,  Stanley 
G.  Smith,  H.  Stanley  Jenkins;  Louise  N.  Miller, 
Harrisburg. 


Corner. 

A  corresponding  Chapter  is  one  whose  members 
are  widely  separated  and  whose  affairs  are  con- 
ducted by  mail.  There  are  several  such,  dear  Lady 
Alice  Cowly,  but  it  is  found  very  difficult  in  prac- 
tice to  maintain  the  interest.  Keeping  members 
together  in  spirit  who  are  hundreds  of  miles  apart 
iu  body  is  no  easy  thing  to  do. 

Ralph  Leach,  Stoughton,  Mass.,  is  interested  in 
athletic  sports.  He  will  enjoy  the  Table  more 
than  ever,  then,  for  it  is  to  have  more  news  about 
sports  than  ever  before.  Anne  Bliss  wants  to 
know  why  the  Table  cannot  have  a  "Students' 
Corner "  to  help  members  in  their  school-work ;  "a 
geometrical  diagram,  scientific  experiments,  mean- 
ing of  new  words  — anything.  I  am  sure  such  a 
Corner  would  be  very  helpful."  We  heartily  agree 
with  Lady  Anne.  Shall  we  have  a  new  corner,  or 
will  the  Want  one  do?  Let's  have  your  questions. 
The  Table  desires  to  help  you  in  all  ways  that  it 
can.  Consider  this  a  Students'  Corner,  and  use  it 
as  such.  We  can  find  somebody  to  answer  your 
questions.  Or  perhaps  you  can  answer  each  other's 
1 1  nest  ions.  How  would  that  do  for  some  questions, 
at  least? 

Here  is  one  now.  Maude  Wigfield  asks:  "If  a 
heavy  vessel,  such  as  the  cruiser  New  York,  were  to 
go  down  in  mid-ocean,  could  it  overcome  the  enor- 
mous pressure  of  the  water,  and  sink  to  the  very 
bottom,  or  wouldjt  reach  an  equal  density  before 
it  diil  reach  the  bottom.  Remember  that  some  of 
the  compartments  would  still  contain  air."  Let 
us  have  opinions.  Give  us  the  pressure  per  square 
foot  at  certain  ocean  depths,  and  the  pressure  the 
war  vessels  are  built  to  withstand.  The  Elbe, 
whieh  went  down  in  the  North  Sea  a  few  weeks 
ago — that  is  on  the  very  bottom  of  the  sea,  is  it 
not? 

Herbert  Benton  lives  at  1S08  East  Seventh  Street, 
Kansas  City,  Mo.  He  asks  how  best  to  put  plants 
into  a  herbarium.  Will  some  one  give  us  a  mor- 
sel upon  it?  We  can  find  the  information  from 
1  i.M.ks,  but  much  prefer  the  personal  experience  of 
some  member.  Tell  us  all  about  flowers  and  plants 
for  herbariums.  He  also  asks  for  the  solution  or 
mixture  in  which  writing  may  be  placed  upon 
tissue-paper,  the  initial  letter  lighted  and  the  writ- 
ing burned  out,  without  injury  to  the  rest  of  the 
paper.  We  had  the  formula  of  the  solution  some 
time  ago,  but  cannot  now  find  it.  Can  somebody 
help  us  to  it  again, for  Sir  Herbert's  benefit? 

Carolyn  A.  Nash  lives  in  California  and  asks  for 
more  time  for  sending  puzzle  solutions  on  account 
of  the  distance  to  be  travelled  by  the  mails.  The 
present  series  of  puzzles  is  exceptional,  dear  Lady 
Carolyn,  and  the.  dates  of  closing  could  not  be  made 
different,  nor  can  they  now  be  changed.  In  future 
contests  the  Pacific  coast  members  shall  be  given 
more  time.  Augusta  C.  Grenther  and  Charles 
the  more  than  twenty  members 
ot  the  Sangster  ( 'hapti-r  who  attend  one  school  at 
Germailia,  N.  J.  The  Chapter  meetings  are  held  at 
ihe  sehool  on  Fridays.  It  wants  correspondents, 
and  to  exchange  flowers  and  minerals. 


HAEPEE'S   KOTJND   TABLE 


STAMPS 


This  Department  is  conducted  in 
and  the  Editor  will  l>e  pleased  to  at 
so  far  as  possible.  Corres[»'iideiits 


-tiim  in.  ,'ie  subject 
s  Editor  Stump  De- 


AT  PHESKXT  ALL  COLLECTORS  appear  to 
be  hunting  for  varieties  of  the  I'nilcil 
States  stumps  of  the  1872  issue,  some  of  tin- 
new  varieties  of  which  were  illustrated  in 
these  columns  a  short  time  ago.  The  fact  that 
the  Continental  Bank-Note  Company  were 
the  successors  of  the  National  Bank-Note 
Company  in  the  printing  of  that  issue  has 
led  to  thr  lirl'n-f  tbat  each  of  the  stamps 
printed  by  tin-  Continental  Company  from 
the  plates  made  by  the  National  Company 
bears  sonu1  mark  to  distinguish  the  com- 
pany printing  the  stamps.  Several  of  th, 
values  of  the  \til'i  issue  having  been  found 
with  such  a  mark,  it  would  seem  that  all 
the  values  were  treated  in  the  same  manner, 
the  only  difficulty  being  to  discover  the 
mark.  No  help  can  be  obtained  from  the 
hank-note  companies,  as  they  preserve  ab- 
solute secrecy  in  regard  to  the  stamps,  it 
thus  being  left  to  the  collectors  to  study 
out  the  marks.  While  these  exceedingly 
small  varieties  will  greatly  puzzle  the  col- 
lector, they  lead  to  one  great  object,  by 
showing  that  a  close  study  of  stamps  is 
necessary  iu  order  to  be  a  successful  collec- 
tor, and  only  those  who  arc  willing  to  study 
out  these  minute  variations  can  get  the  full 
pleasure  of  the  pursuit. 

THE  AUCTION  SEASON  IN  STAMPS  will  close 
with  the  month  of  May,  and  the  great  sales 
held  this  year  show  that  collectors  are  using 
that  method  for  buying  to  a  larger  extent 
than  ever. 

AN  ENGLISH  PAPER  STATES  that  the  cur- 
rent adhesives  of  France  have  been  sur- 
charged "  Poste  Francaise,"fornse  of  French 
offices  iu  Madagascar.  There  are  nine  values. 


WALTER  BAKER  &  CO, 

The  Largest  Manufacturers  of 
PURE,  HIGH  GRADE 

COCOAS  AND  CHOCOLATES 

On  thia  Continent,  have  received 

HIGHEST  AWARDS 

from  the  great 

Industrial  and  Food 

EXPOSITIONS 

In  Europe  and  America. 

TTnlike  the  Dutch  Process,  no  Alka- 
lies  or  other  Chemicals  or  Dyes  are 
used   in  nnv  of  their  preparntionB. 
BREAKFAST  COCOA  is  absolutely 
and  costs  less  than  one  cent  a  cwp. 


Th. 
pure 


delici 
and  soluble, 


SOLD    BY    GROCERS    EVERYWHERE. 


WALTER  BAKER  &  CO.  DORCHESTER,  MASS. 


*  WONDER  CABINET  FREE  MissinR  Link 
1i)e,  Devil's  Bottle.  Pocket  Camera.  Uteat 
PiiKle,  Spook  Photos,  Book  of  Sleigbtof 
1  Hand,  Total  Value  GOc.  Sent  free  wilh  immcnP* 
C  catalogue  of  1000  B&rgainafor  lOc  for  pos lace. 
3lNGERSOLLtBKO.,65Cortlanat  Street  N.  ?. 


IVORY  5  GAP 


PURE 


To  cleanse  matting,  use  four  tablespoonfuls  of  Ivory  Soap  shavings 
and  a  handful  of  salt  to  a  pailful  of  warm  water.  Rub  the  matting 
with  a  cloth  or  sponge  well  squeezed  out. 


THE  PROCTEB  &  GAMBLE  Co  .  OlH'TL 


3  Million,  134  Thousand,  9  Hun- 
dred and  Thirty-four  Packages 
sold  in  1894,  which  made  15 
Million,  674  Thousand,  7  Hun- 
dred and  Thirty-five  Gallons  of 

HIRES' 

Rootbeer 

or  313  Million,  494  Thousand, 
7  Hundred  glasses,  sufficient  to 
give  every  man,  woman  and 
child  in  the  United  States,  five 
glasses  each — Did  you  get  yours? 
Be  sure  and  get  some  this  year . 
The  whole  family  will  enjoy  it. 
A  25  cent  package  makes  5  gal- 
lons. Sold  everywhere.  Made 
only  by 

The  Chas.  E.  Hires  Co.,  Philada. 


MONARCH 


King  of  all  Bicycles. 


and  Naturalist 
Egjr  Drill,  IJlmvj 
Honk,  nickel  -  p 
pocket  case,  only 

Illustrated  catalogue  for  2-cent  stanii 
CHAS.  K.  REED,  262  Main  Street, 


BIRD!!1 


CARD  PRINTER/egff 

Setsanj  name  in  one  minute; prints  00  cards  an 
hour.  TOD  can  make  money  with  i  A  font  of 
pretty  type,  also  Indelible  Ink,  Type  Holder.  Pads 
and  Tweeiers.  Best  linen  Marker;  worth  $1.00. 
Sample  mailed  FREK  for  l^c.  stamps  for  post^e  on 
Outfit  and  larce  catalogue  of  IOIH)  Bargains. 
R.H.  In  t'tTM.]  I  &  Bro.  (...  I  ortlandt  St.  N.Y.  City 


upplies. 
pe.  and 
areci,    in 
5  <-ts. 


Iy35 


r,  Mass. 


TRADE-MARK. 


Five  Styles.   Weights,  18  to  25  Pounds. 
I'rioes,  $85  and  $100. 

MONARCH    CYCLE   CO. 

Factory  and  Main  Office,  Lake  and  Halsted  Sts.,  Chicago. 

Eastern  Branch  :  79  Reade  St.,  £97  Chambers  St.,  N.Y. 

The  C.  F.  GUYON  Co.,  Ltd.,  Managers. 


OFFICIAL  ANNOUNCEMENT  of  the  award 

CILLQTT'S  PEN  Sat  the  CHICAGO  EXPOSITION. 
AW  A 12  D:  "For  excellence  of  steel  used  in  their 
manufacture,  It  being:  fine  grained  and  elastic  ;  super- 
ior workmanship,  especially  shown  by  the  careful 
grinding  which  leaves  the  pens  free  from  defects.  The 
tempering  is  excellent  and  the  notion  of  the  finished 
pensperflct."  (Signed)  FKANZ  VOGT, 

(H.  I.  KIMBALL,  Individual  Judge, 

Approved  :•<        Pres't  Departmental  Committee. 
(JOHN  BOYD  THACHER, 

Chairman  Exec.  Com.  on  Awards. 

543 


WANTED.    100,000  BOYS, 

to  sell  the  EUREKA  MARKING  TAG  for 

marking  hats,  etc.,  now  and  in  Summer  vacation. 
Sells  a!  sitjht.  Send  10  cents  iu  coin  for  samples.  Ad- 
dress Eureka  Marking  Tag  €o.,  Cedar  Falls,  loirn. 

CENI>  for  Catalogue  of 
*J  rhe  Musical  liistru- 
Eneitt  you  think  i>f  buying. 
Violins  repaired  by  the 
Cremona  System.  C.  STORY, 
25<Yntr;il  St..  I'.uston.  Mass. 


lUM'S  PEIIODIULS. 

l*er  Year: 

HARPER'S  MAGAZINE Postage  Free,  $4  00 

HARPER'S  WEEKLY "  4  00 

HARPER'S  BAZAR "  400 

HARPER'S  YOUNG  PKOPLB...  2  00 

Booksellers  and  Postmasters  usually  receive  subscrip- 
tions. Subscriptions  sent  direct  to  the  publishers  should 
be  accompanied  6y  Post-office  Honey  Order  or  Draft. 

BAKl'ER  &  BROTHERS,  Franklin  Square.  \.  V. 


HARPEK'S  ROUND  TABLE 


BOY    (jerking    string}.     "  COMB,    OUT 
THERE;    WHAT'S  THK  MATTER  WITH  vou  !" 


KITE    TALE, 
rp  KITE. 

WITH 


SAY,  YOU  CAN'T  TANK  ME  THAT  WAV 

MPUNITY." 


READINESS  OF  WIT. 

ONE  of  the  best  qualities  for  a  boy  or  a  girl  to  cultivate 
is  readiuess  of  wit.  To  the  lad  who  is  thinking  of  going 
iuto  some  business  pursuit  quickness  to  see  and  meet  'the 
ivqiiirfiiicnts  of  an  opportunity  is  of  invaluable  importance. 
\Ye  tind  in  the  (iazettf  Aiiecilntiquc  a  case  very  much  to  the 
point,  and  must  amusing  withal.  It  seems  that  in  tlio 
year  1707,  when  Philip  V.  was  on  his  way  to  Madrid  to  take 
possession  of  his  kingdom  of  Spain,  the  inhabitants  of 
Mont  de  Marsan  came  out  to  meet  him  at  his  approach. 
The  two  processions  having  met  about  a  league  from  the 
town,  the  Mayor  advanced  towards  the  litter  in  which  the 
King  sat,  and  addressed  him  as  follows :  "Sire,  long  speeches 
are  obnoxious  and  wearisome;  I  should  prefer  to  sing  you 
something."  Leave  was  given,  and  he  sang  forthwith  a 
short  ode  to  the  King,  which  so  greatly  pleased  his  Maj- 
esty that  he  called  out,  "Da  capo!"  (encore).  The  Mayor 
gave  his  song  a  second  time.  The  King  thanked  the  sing- 
er, and  presented  him  with  ten  louis  d'or.  This  amount 
seemed  hardly  sufficient  to  the  chief  magistrate  of  Mont  de 
Marsau,  and  he  therefore  promptly  held  out  his  empty  hand 
to  the  King,  and  in  admirable  imitation  of  the  King's 
voice,  himself  called  out,  "Da  capo!"  The  King  laughed 
heartily  and  complied,  and  the  Mayor  departed  twice  as 
well  off  as  he  would  have  been  had  he  been  less  quick- 
witted. 


FRENCH  AND  ENGLISH. 

THOSE  of  us  who  have  grown  weary  and  perplexed  over 
the  peculiarities  of  the  French  language,  and  who  have 
wished  that  our  parents  and  school-teachers  did  not  con- 
sider that  language  necessary  to  our  education,  will  rejoice 
at  this  item  from  an  English  newspaper,  which  shows  that 
the  Frenchman  has  as  hard  a  time  mastering  our  tongue 
as  we  have  in  mastering  his. 

According  to  the  story  three  French  boys  were  studying 
a  volume  of  Shakespeare  in  their  own  tongue,  their  task 
being  to  render  portions  of  it  into  English.  When  they 
came  to  Hamlet's  famous  soliloquy,  "To  be  or  not  to  be," 
thrir  respective  translations  were  as  follows: 

1.  "  To  was  or  not  to  am." 

2.  "  To  were  or  is  to  not." 

3.  "  To  should  or  not  to  will." 


AN  absent-minded  young  preacher  in  New  England, 
wishing  to  address  the  young  ladies  of  his  congregation 
after  the  morning  services,  remarked  from  the  pulpil  i  li.-ii 
he  would  be  very  glad  if  the  female  brethren  of  the  con- 
gregation would  remain  after  they  had  gone  home.  He 
was  almost  as  badly  mixed,  the  narrator  of  this  story  says, 
as  another  speaker,  who,  after  describing  a  pathetic  scene 
he  had  witnessed,  added,  huskily,  "I  tell  you,  brothers, 
there  was  hardly  a  dry  tear  in  the  house." 


SERENADING  HIMSELF. 
WE  sometimes  think  that 
the  funny  situations  in  the 
pictures  in  the  comic  papers 
are  too  absurd  to  be  real, 
and  yet  every  day  there  hap- 
pen things  quite  as  absurd  as 
any  there  depicted.  One  of 
the  German  newspapers  gives 
an  account  of  how  a  steady 
old  burgomaster  recently  ser- 
enaded himself,  which  cer- 
tainly brings  before  our 
minds  a  picture  quite  as 
laughable  as  any  we  have 
seen  in  print.  The  story  is 
to  this  effect:  Herr  Notel, 
merchant  and  burgomaster, 
who  is  passionately  fond  of 
singing,  is  the  first  tenor  and 
president  of  the  Schnitzel- 
burg  glee  -  club.  The  clnb 
consists  of  only  a  single 

quartet,  but  small  as  is  their  number,  the  greater  is  their 
enthusiasm  for  the  songs  of  Germany.  Notel  would  shortly 
celebrate  his  silver  wedding.  They  must  give  him  a  ser- 
enade ;  there  was  no  help  for  it.  But  what  was  a  quar- 
tet without  the  first  tenor?  There  was  no  getting  a 
substitute,  but  for  all  that  they  would  give  Notel  a  sur- 
prise. On  the  eve  of  the  festal  day  the  three  members  of 
the  clnb,  armed  with  lanterns,  met  at  the  appointed  time 
before  the  house  of  their  respected  president,  and  after 
some  clearing  of  throats  and  twanging  of  tuning-forks  the 
mnsic  began.  A  small  crowd  collected  in  the  street,  and 
the  windows  in  the  vicinity  were  lined  with  appreciative 
listeners.  The  Herr  Burgomaster  and  his  family  also  ap- 
peared at  the  windows  of  their  brightly  illuminated  sitting- 
room.  The  first  bars  of  the  well-known  song,  "Silent 
Night,"  left  much  to  be  desired,  but  the  three  voices 
bravely  held  on  their  way  amid  the  surrounding  stillness, 
and  in  a  few  moments  Herr  Notel  went  down  into  the 
street  and  joined  in  the  quartet.  No  sooner  was  the 
song  finished  than  he  ran  up  stairs  again,  appeared  at  the 
open  window,  and  in  loud  clear  tones  thanked  the  club  for 
their  ovation.  Seen  on  a  public  stage,  an  old  gentleman 
madly  rushing  up  stairs  to  a  window  to  thank  himself  for 
serenading  himself  would  cause  a  good  deal  of  laughter. 


ODD  ITEMS  FROM   EVERYWHERE. 

IT  was  a  very  homely  old  lady  in  Scotland  who  remark- 
ed, as  she  gazed  into  a  looking-glass,  that  they  didn't  make 
as  good  mirrors  to-day  as  they  did  when  she  was  a  girl, 
because  she  thought  modern  looking-glasses  made  her  look 
so  old. 


IT  was  said  to  be  a  Maine  man  who  told  an  agent  for 
a  cyclopsedia  that  he  didn't  want  one,  because  he  hadn't 
time  to  learn  to  ride  one,  and  he  didn't  wish  to  risk  his 
neck  trying  it,  anyhow. 


A  STORY  is  told  of  a  grocer  engaged  in  business  in  a  Lon- 
don suburb,  to  the  effect  that  he  once  declined  to  attend  a 
very  popular  concert  even  though  a  free  ticket  was  offered 
him.  "Ye  see," he  said  to  the  person  who  gave  him  the 
ticket,  "  if  I  went  I'd  see  so  many  people  who  owe  me  mon- 
ey for  groceries  it  would  spoil  my  fun,  and  the  sight  o"  me 
would  spoil  theirs.  I'll  stay  at  home." 


HEP.E  is  a  dog  story,  which  you  can  believe  or  not  as 
you  please.  A  gentleman  remarked  of  a  friend's  dog  that 
the  two  eyes  of  the  animal  were  remarkably  different  in 
size.  "  Yes,"  was  the  reply,  "  and  he  takes  a  mean  advan- 
tage of  the  fact  whenever  I  have  a  stranger  to  dine  with 
me.  He  first  gets  fed  at  one  side  of  my  guest,  and  then 
goes  round  the  ta,ble  to  his  other  side,  and  pretends  to  be 
another  dog." 


544 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  Portrait  Gallcrj. 


,  /v. 


'H 


HARPERS 


ROUND  TABLE 


Cop)-nsht,  1S95,  by  H»EPBa  &  BROTHKBS.     All  RI;hts  Reserved. 


PUBLISHEtl     WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI. — NO.  813. 


NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY.  MAY  28.  1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO    DOLLARS    A    TEATt. 


HEROES    OF     AMERICA. 


THE    CHARGE   AT    GETTYSBURG. 


BY    THE   HONORABLE  THEODOKE   ROOSEVELT. 


HE  battle  of  Cliaucellorsville  mark- 
ed tlie  zenith  of  Confederate  good 
fortune.  Immediately  afterwards, 
in  .June,  1063,  Lee  led  the  victori- 
ous Army  of  Northern  Virginia 
north  into  Pennsylvania.  The 
South  was  now  the  invader,  nut 
the  invaded,  and  its  heart  beat 
proudly  with  hopes  of  success; 
but  these  hopes  went  down  in 
bloody  wreck  on  July  4th,  when 
•word  was  sent  to  the. world  that  the  high  valor  of  Virginia 
"had  failed  at  last  on  the  field  of  Gettysburg,  and  that  in 
the  far  West  Vicksburg  had  been  taken  by  the  army  of  the 
•"  silent  soldier." 

At  Gettysburg  Lee  had  under  him  some  seventy  thou- 
sand men,  and  his  opponent,  Meade,  about  ninety  thousand. 
Both  armies  were  composed  mainly  of  seasoned  veterans, 
trained  to  the  highest  point  by  campaign  after  campaign 
and  battle  after  battle;  and  there  was  nothing  to  choose 


between  them  as  to  the  fighting  power  of  the  lank  and 
rile.  The  Union  army  was  the  larger,  yet  most  of  the  time 
it  stood  on  the  defensive:  for  the  difference  between  the 
generals,  Lee  and  Meade,  was  greater  than  could  be  bridged 
by  twenty  thousand  men. 

For  three  days  the  battle  raged.  No  other  battle  of  re- 
cent years  has  been  so  obstinate  and  so  bloody.  The  vic- 
torious Union  army  lost  a  greater  percentage  in  killed  and 
wounded  than  the  allied  armies  of  England,  Germany,  and 
the  Netherlands  lost  at  Waterloo.  Four  of  its  seven  corps 
suffered  each  a  greater  relative  loss  than  befell  the  \\orid- 
renowned  British  infantry  on  the  day  that  saw  the  donm 
of  the  mighty  French  Emperor.  The  defeated  Confed- 
erates at  Gettysburg  lost  relatively  as  many  men  as  the 
defeated  French  at  Waterloo;  but  whereas  the  French 
army  became  a  mere  rabble.  Lee  withdrew  his  formidable 
soldiery  with  their  courage  unbroken,  and  their  lighting 
power  only  diminished  by  their  actual  losses  in  the  lieM. 

Tln>  decisive  moment  of  the  bailie,  and  perha|»  of  the 
whole  war,  was  iu  the  afternoon  of  the  third  day,  when 


HARPEK'S   BOUND   TABLE 


Lee  ''nl  forward  his  choicest  troops  in  a  last  effort  to 
l.reak  lln-  middle  of  the  1'nioii  line.  The  kernel  of  the 
attacking  force'  was  Picketl's  division,  (lie  ilo\vcr  of  llic 
Virginian  inl'.nitr.v.  lint  many  ol  her  brigades  took  part  in 
1  lir  assault,  and  I  lie  attacking  column,  all  told,  iininlicred 
ovei  lii'tccn  ilioiisand  men.  At  the  same  time  Longstreet's 
Confederate  forces  ;it  tacked  llie  I'nion  left  to  create  a  di- 
ver-ion. The  attack  was  preceded  by  a  terrific  cannon- 
ade.  l.ce  gal  hering  one  linnilreil  and  fifteen  guns,  and  open- 
ing  a  terrible  lire'  on  the  centre  of  the  Union  line.  In 
response,  the  Union  chief  of  artillery  gathered  eighty  guns 
along  on  the  crest  of  the  gcnth  sloping  hill  where  attack 
was  threatened.  For  two  hours, from  one  to  three,  there 
was  a  terrific  cannonade,  and  the  lotteries  on  both  sides 
suffered  severely.  In  both  the  Union  and  Confederate 
lines  caissons  were  blown  up  by  the  tire,  riderless  horses 
dashed  hither  and  thither,  the  dead  lay  in  heaps,  and 
throngs  of  wounded  streamed  to  the  rear,  livery  man  lay 
down  and  sought  what  cover  he,  could.  It  was  evident 
that  the  Confederate  cannonade  was  but  a  prelude  to  a 
great  infantry  attack,  and  at  three  o'clock  Hunt,  the  Union 
chief  of  artillery,  ordered  the  lire  to  stop,  that,  the  gnus 
might  cool  to  be  ready  for  the  coining  assault.  The  Con- 
federates thought  that  they  hail  silenced  the  Union  artil- 
lery, anil  for  a  few  minutes  their  tiring  continued;  then 
suddenly  it  ceased,  and  there  was  a  lull. 

The  men  on  the  Union  side  who  were  not  at  the  point 
directly  menaced  peered  anxiously  across  the  space  be- 
tween the  lines  to  watch  the  next  move,  while  the  men  in 
the  divisions  which  it  was  certain  were  about  to  be  as- 
saulted lay  hugging  Hie  ground  and  gripping  their  mus- 
kets, excited,  but  confident  and  resolute.  They  saw  the 
smoke  clouds  rise  slowly  above  the.  opposite  crest,  where 
the  Confederate  army  lay,  and  the  sunlight  glinted  again 
on  the  long  line  of  brass  and  iron  guns  which  had  been 
hidden  from  view  during  I  he  cannonade.  In  another  mo- 
ment, out  of  the  lifting  smoke  there  appeared,  beautiful 
and  terrible,  the  pjcked  thousands  of  the  Southern  army 
advancing  to  the  assault.  They  advanced  in  three  lines, 
each  over  a  mile  long,  and  in  perfect  order.  Pickett's  Vir- 
ginians held  the  centre,  w  ilh  on  their  left  the  North  Caro- 
linians of  IVmler  and  Pet  t  igre  w,  and  on  their  right  the 
Alabama  regiments  of  Wilcox ;  and  there  were  also  Geor- 
gian and  Tennessee  regiments  in  t  he  attacking  force.  Pick- 
ett's division,  however,  was  the  only  one  able  to  press  its 
charge  home. 

The  Confederate  lines  came  on  magnificently.  As  they 
crossed  the  Emmetsbnrg  Pike  the  eighty  nuns  on  the  Union 
crest,  now  cool  and  in  good  shape,  opeiled  upon  them,  first 
with  shot  and  then  with  shell.  Great  gaps  were  made 
every  second  in  the  ranks,  but  t  he  gra\  -clad  soldiers  closed 
up  to  the  centre,  and  the  color-bearers  leaped  to  the  front, 
shaking  and  waving  the  llags.  The  Union  infantry  re- 
served their  fire  until  the  Confederates  were  within  easy 
range,  when  the  musketry  crashed  out  with  a  roar;  the  big 
guns  began  to  fire  grape  and  canister. 

On  came  the  Confederates,  the  men  falling  by  hundreds, 
the  colors  fluttering  in  front  like  a  little  forest;  for  as  fast 
as  a  color-bearer  was  shot,  some  one  else  seized  the  flag 
from  his  hand  before  it  fell.  The  North  Carolinians  were 
more  exposed  to  the  fire  than  any  other  portion  of  the  at- 
tacking force,  and  they  were  broken  before  they  reached 
the  line.  There  was  a  gap  between  the  Virginians  and  the 
Alabama  troops,  and  this  was  taken  advantage  of  by  Stau- 
nard'»  Vermont  brigade  and  a  demi-brigade  under  Gates  of 
the  Twentieth  New  York,  who  were  thrust  forward  into  it. 
Stannard  changed  front  with  his  regiments  and  attacked 
Pickett's  forces  in  flank,  and  Gates  continued  the  attack. 
When  thus  struck  in  the  flank  the  Virginians  could  not 
defend  themselves,  and  they  crowded  off  toward  the  centre, 
to  avoid  the  pressure.  Many  of  them  were  killed  or  cap- 
tured; many  of  them  were  driven  back;  but  two  of  the 
brigades,  headed  by  General  Armistead,  forced  their  way 
forward  to  the  stone  wall  on  the  crest,  where  the  Pennsyl- 
vania regiments  were  posted  under  Gibbon  and  Webb. 

The  Union  guns  fired  to  the  last  moment,  until  of  the  two 
batteries  immediately  in  front  of  the  charging  Virginians 
every  officer  but  one  had  been  struck.  One  of  the  mortal- 


ly wounded  officers  was  young  Gushing,  a  brother  of  the 
hero  id'  I  lie  .lllifiiHirli'  fight.  He  was  almost  cut  in  two,  but 
holding  his  body  together  with  one  hand,  with  the  other  he 
tired  his  last  gun,  and  fell  dead,  just  as  Armistead.  pressing 
forward  at  the  head  of  his  men,  leaped  the  wall,  waving  his 
baton  his  sword.  Immediately  afterwards  the  battlc-tlags 
of  the  1'oremos.t  Confederate  regiments  crowned  the  crest  ; 
but  their  strength  was  spent.  The  Union  troops  moved 
forward  with  the  bayonet,  and  the  remnant  of  Pickett's 
division,  attacked  on  all  sides,  "either  surrendered  or  retreat- 
ed down  the  hill  again.  Armistead  fell  dying  by  the  body 
of  the  dead  dishing.  Both  Gibbon  and  Webb  were  wound- 
ed. Of  Picketl's  command  two-thirds  were  killed,  wound- 
ed, or  captured,  and  every  brigade  commander  and  every 
field  officer  save  one  fell.  The  Virginians  tried  to  rally, 
but  were  broken  and  driven  again  by  Gates,  while  Stannard 
repeated  at  the  expense  of  the  Alabamians  the  movement 
he  had  made  against  the  Virginians,  and,  reversing  his 
front,  attacked  them  in  flank.  Their  Hues  were  torn  by 
the  batteries  in  front,  and  they  fell  back  before  the  Ver- 
monters'  attack,  ami  Stannard  reaped  a  rich  hancsi  of 
prisoners  and  of  battle-flags. 

The  charge  was  over.  It  was  the  greatest  charge  in  any 
battle  of  modern  times,  and  it  had  failed.  It  would  be  im- 
possible to  surpass  the  gallantry  of  those  that  made  it,  or 
the  gallantry  of  those  that  withstood  it.  Had  there  been 
in  command  of  the  Union  army  a  general  like  Grant,  it 
would  have  been  followed  by  a  counter-charge,  and  in  all 
probability  the  war  would  have  been  shortened  by  nearly 
two  years;  but  no  counter-charge  was  made. 

As  the  afternoon  waned,  a  fierce  cavalry  tight  took  place 
on  the  Union  right.  Stuart,  the  famous  Confederate  cavalry 
commander,  had  moved  forward  to  turn  the  Union  right, 
bnt  he  was  met  by  Gregg's  cavalry,  and  there  followed  a 
contest  at  close  quarters  with  "  the  white  arm."  It  closed 
wit  h  a  desperate  melee,  in  which  the  Confederates,  charging 
under  Wade  Hamilton  and  Fitz-Hngh  Lee,  were  met  in 
mid-career  by  the  Union  Generals  Custer  and  Melntosh. 
All  four  fought,  sabre  in  hand,  at  the  head  of  their  troopers,, 
and  every  man  on  eaidi  side  was  put  into  the  struggle. 
Custer,  his  yellow  hair  flowing,  his  face  aflame  with  the 
eager  joy  of  battle,  was  in  the  thick  of  the  fight,  rising  in 
his  stirrups  as  he  called  to  his  famous  Michigan  swords- 
men, "Come  on.  you  Wolverines,  come  on!"  All  that  the 
Union  infantry,  watching  eagerly  from  their  lines,  could 
see  \\as  a  vast  dust  cloud,  where  flakes  of  light  shimmered 
as  the  sun  shone  upon  the  swinging  sabres.  At  last  the 
Confederate  horsemen  were  beaten  back,  and  they  did  not 
come  forward  again  or  seek  to  renew  the  combat ;  for  Pick- 
ett's charge  had  failed,  and  there  was  no  longer  hope  of 
Confederate  victory. 

\Vhen  night  fell  the  Union  flags  waved  in  triumph  over 
the  field  of  Gettysburg;  but  over  thirty  thousand  men  lay 
dead  or  wounded,  strewn  through  wood  and  meadow,  on 
field  and  hill,  where  the  three  days'  fight  had  surged. 


.MEMORIAL   DAY. 

FLUTTER  of  flag  and  beat  of  drum 
And  the  sound  of  marching  feet. 
And  in  long  procession  the  soldiers  come 
To  the  call  of  the  bugles  sweet. 

And  the  marching  soldiers  stop  at  last 

Where  their  sleeping  comrades  lie, 
The  men  whose  battles  have  long  been  fought, 
Who  dared  for  the  laud  to  die. 

Children,  quick  with  your  gathered  flowers, 

Scatter  them  far  and  near; 
They  who  were  fathers  and  brothers  once 
Are   peacefully  resting  here. 

Flutter  of  banner  and  beat  of  drum 

And  the  bugle's  solemn  call, 
In  grand  procession  the  soldiers  come — 
And  God  is  over  us  all! 


546 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


THE   CAT  SHOW. 

BY  WALTER  CLARK  NICHOLS. 

AT  last  the  cats  have  had  a  show  of  their  own,  and  for 
the  time  being  their  old  enemies,  the  dogs,  have  been 
forced  to  take  a  back  seat,  and  sulk  at  the  attention  which 
the  '<J50  and  more  pussies  received  from  the  girls  and  boys 
and  grown-up  people  at  the  Madison  Square  Garden  in 
New  York.  It  has  been  a  gala-time  for  the  children,  es- 
pecially, and  the  petting  which  the  dift'ereut  tabbies  re- 
ceived would  have  turned  their  heads  had  they  not  been  so 
well-bred  and  aristocratic.  For  the  common  tramp  cat, 
who  knows  no  better  than  to  give  unwelcome  coucerts  on 
the  back  fence  at  night,  or  the  scraggly  kitten,  whose  one 
ambition  is  rat-catching,  had  no  place  among  the  cats  who 
made  their  first  pub-lie  bow  and  mieuw  a  week  ago.  Only 
those  whose  great  grandpapas  or  grandmammas  were  dis- 
tinguished people  in  the  cat  kingdom  were  allowed  to  be 
exhibited. 

After  all,  the  cat  kingdom  isn't  nearly  so  large  as  the  dog 
kingdom.  All  of  our  domestic  cats  are  grouped  under  two 
distinct  heads — the  short-haired  European  or  Western  cat, 
and  the  lung-haired  Asiatic  or  Eastern  cat.  The  tortoise- 
shell,  white,  black,  blue,  or  slate-color  (Maltese),  and  the 
tabbies  are  embraced  in  the  European,  and  the  Asiatic  in- 
cludes the  Persian,  Angora,  Russian,  and  Indian.  So  that 
it  is  ever  so  much  easier  to  learn  what  class  your  cat  be- 
longs in  than  to  know  the  different  kinds  of  dogs. 

What  an  attractive  sight  the  long  rows  of  dainty  cages, 
each  fitted  up  in  royal  fashion  for  its  feline  occupant,  made! 
Here  at  the  beginning  of  the  long  row  of  wire  houses, 
"Dick,"  a  miniature  tiger,  slept  with  ryes  half  closed  (as 
every  good  cat  always  does),  and  his  right  paw  outstretch- 
ed, as  if  in  his  dreams  some  poor  little  sparrow  were  within 
clutching  distance.  Not  far  away  "Charles  Dickeus,"  a 
vt-ry  aristocratic  Maltese,  was  purring  out  his  compliments 
to  a  little  girl  who  was  vainly  endeavoring  to  educate  him 
to  eat  peanuts. 

Then  then-  was  "  Columbia  "  and  her  two  kittens.  "  Yale  " 
and  "Harvard."  The  readers  of  the  KOUND  TABLE  never 
s:i\\  their  older  brut  hers  wear  their  college  colors  more 
bravely  than  these  wee  little  kittens.  Their  fawn -col- 
ored mother  would  get  them  quieted  down  after  some 
merry  romp,  and  then  they  would  suddenly  begin  another 
friendly  fight,  and  roll  over  and  over  again,  till  it  was  im- 
possible to  tell  whether  the  blue  or  the  red  was  victorious. 
Near  by  was  a  "  happy  family  "  of  short-haired  spotted  eats 
from  Elizabeth,  New  jersey,  consisting  of  a  great-grandmo- 
ther, grandmother,  mother,  and  seven  kittens.  And  how 
proud  gentle  great -grandmamma  was  when  her  grand- 
daughter captured  the  second  prize  in  her  class. 

Perhaps  our  President  would  feel  pleased  were  he  to 
know  how  much  attention  his  namesake  "Grover  Cleve- 
land "  had  at  the  show.  He  is  a  rich,  brown  tabby, 
with  wide  black  stripes,  and  was  given  a  blue  ribbon,  the 
mark  of  the  first  prize.  He  took  it  all  very  calmly,  as 
much  as  to  say,  "You  couldn't  do  anything  less  for  one 
with  such  a  name  as  mine." 

But  even  "Grover  Cleveland"  was  not  so  aristocratic- 
looking  as  "Grover  B.,"  from  Philadelphia.  His  short- 
haired  coat  was  as  white  as  the  stone  door-steps  of  the 
houses  in  his  native  town,  and — think  of  it — his  mistress 
values  him  at  $1000  !  So  well  brought  up  is  he  that  he  sits 
at  the  table  with  his  master  and  mistress  in  a  high  chair 
and  feeds  himself  with  his  paw.  His  master  says  that  he 
eats  more  quietly  and  gracefully  than  their  little  nephew 
of  five  years,  who,  when  he  spills  his  bread  and  milk,  is 
told  he  can  profit  by  "  Grover's"  example.  So  fond  of  him 
is  his  master  that  his  head  appears  on  all  his  business  pa- 
per and  envelopes, so  that  "Grover  B."  is  known  all  over 
the  world,  and,  through  his  pictures  on  his  master's  envel- 
opes, has  travelled  more  extensively  than  almost  any  other 
cat. 

An  even  more  wonderful  short-haired  cat  was  "  Mittens," 
who  has  actually  been  trained  to  love  and  live  with  birds. 
"Mittens"  is  a  great  deal  of  a  swell.  His  grandfather  was 
a  pure-blooded  Maltese,  and  his  great-grandmamma  was  a 
very  haughty  Angora.  All  the  traditions  in  his  family 


prompted  him  to  consider  birds  as  his  natural  prey  and 
dogs  as  his  enemies.  When  he  came  to  his  present  mis- 
tress, Mrs.  M.  L.  Ponchez,  the  latter  had  two  Yorkshire  ter- 
riers, a  parrot,  eight  canaries,  a  red-bird,  and  several  cha- 
meleons, and  of  course  she  thought  it  would  be  pretty 
difficult  for  "  Mittens"  to  live  in  peace  with  all  these  other 
pets.  She  thought  she  would  try  to  teach  him  to  be  friend- 
ly to  the  birds  and  dogs,  and  this  is  what  she  did. 

She  first  kept  all  of  her  pets  a  day  without  food,  and 
then  the  next  day  placed  the  cat  between  the  dogs  while 
she  fed  him  his  breakfast.  After  that  the  cat  and  the 
dogs  became  such  good  friends  that  they  all  slept  togel  her. 
At  the  next  meal  she  took  one  of  the  canaries,  put  him  on 
her  finger,  and  petted  him  while  she  held  "Mittens"  in  her 
lap  and  fed  him.  This  she  did  several  times,  and  then  let 
all  of  the  birds  fly  around  the  cat.  The  latter  never  at- 
tempted to  touch  one,  and  frequently  to-day  you  may  see 
"Mittens"  slumbering  peacefully  before  the  fire,  with  a 
canary  nestled  on  the  soft  fur  of  his  back. 

While  there  were  many  more  short-haired  cats  on  exhi- 
bition for  prizes,  the  long-haired  ones  created  more  atten- 
tion because  they  are  much  less  common.  They  had  a  sep- 
arate room  to  themselves  upstairs,  and  a  band  of  music 
played  for  them  lest  they  should  forget  that  many  of  them 
were  descended  from  cat  emperors  and  princes  in  the  far- 
otf  East.  There  was  "  Ajax,"  a  white  Angora,  with  firm 
mouth  and  keen  eyes,  his  fluffy  white  mane  looking  like  a 
lion's,  every  inch  of  him  a  king.  There  was  "Paderew- 
ski,"  blue-ribboned,  with  longer  and  thicker  hair  than  the 
famous  musician  whose  name  he  bears.  Near  by  an  inter- 
ested crowd  watched  "Ellen  Terry''  and  her  seven  kittens. 
"Ellen"  is  a  large  white  and  orange  Angora,  and  very 
cozy  were  she  and  her  kittens  in  a  basket  lined  with  yel- 
low silk  and  trimmed  with  dotted  muslin.  Her  manners 
vere  perfect,  for  whenever  her  cunning  little  kittens  were 
ra  reused  she  showed  no  surprise,  but  looked  on  with  calm 
maternal  pride. 

Just  to  show  by  contrast  how  very  aristocratic  these 
long-haired  cats  were,  six  or  eight  lost  cats  from  the 
Shelter  for  Animals  (where  lost  and  homeless  cats  are 
cared  for)  were  exhibited  near  the  haughty  Angoras.  All 
but  one  looked  sadly  out  of  place.  They  were  thin,  their 
fur  was  uneven,  and  the  disdainful  sniffs  which  their  Per- 
sian and  Angora  neighbors  gave  them  made  them  feel  very 
miserable  indeed.  But  one  of  them,  though,  a  short-haired 
cat,  looked  as  if  his  grandfather  had  been  a  somebody  in 
the  cat  kingdom,  and  he  seemed  to  say, 

"Thoiigh  appearances  are  against  me,  please  don't  think 
that  I  belong  to  this  vulgar  herd  of  tramp  cats." 

And  he  was  vindicated,  for  the  third  day  of  the  show  a 
little  girl  came  rushing  over  to  the  cage  with  a  glad  cry 
of  recognition,  which  the  cat  immediately  responded  to  by 
joyful  purring.  The  cat  had  been  lost  for  over  two  weeks, 
and  now  as  his  young  mistress  took  him  away  he  looked 
back  at  his  proud  long-haired  neighbors  with  a  smile, 
which  meant, 

"Ah,  you  see  I'm  somebody,  after  all!" 

Perhaps  the  readers  of  the  ROUND  TABLE  would  like  to 
know  whether  their  cats  and  kittens  are  "somebody "or 
not,  whether  they  are  pure-blooded  examples  of  the  classes 
to  which  they  belong.  It  is  quite  simple.  A  prominent 
doctor,  who  knows  more  about  cats  than  almost  any  other 
man  in  the  United  States,  says  that  in  .judging  a  cat  the 
first  thing  to  be  considered  is  its  general  symmetry. 

"The  body  ought  to  be  long  and  slenderly  shaped,  like 
that  of  a  tiger.  The  eyes  should  he  of  a  correct  shade ; 
for  instance,  a  cat  that  is  white  should  have  blue  eyes,  a 
black  cat  yellow  eyes,  and  so  on.  The  eyes,  too,  should  be 
round  and  full.  The  color  of  a  cat  is  important,  and  is  the 
key  to  its  character.  A  cat  of  one  color  should  have  no 
other  hue  in  its  coat.  The  most  rarely  marked  cat  is  the 
tortoise-shell,  uneven  patches  of  red,  black,  and  yellow, 
equally  distributed  over  the  body.  In  the  tabbies  the 
dark  markings  should  be  in  direct  contrast  with  the  light, 
gray  or  brown  being  marked  with  black,  while  blue  is 
marked  with  some  darker  shade,  and  yellow  with  red." 

So  successful  was  this  first  cat  show  that  it  is  almost 
settled  that  another  one  will  be  held  next  fall.  A  cat  club 


547 


IN    THE    LONG-HAIRED   CAT-ROOM. 


is  to  lie  formed,  .as  exclusive  as  some  of  the  kennel  clubs  to 
which  the  fits'  canine  enemies  belong.  So  that  hereafter 
when  a  proud-loiikiug  Angora  goes  to  call  on  a  Maltese 
friend,  the  question  no  longer  will  be:  "How  many  birds 
have  .you  killed  lately?"  or,  "How  do  you  find  your  milk 
these  days?"  But  as  the  pussies  purr  in  good-fellowship 
together,  you  will  hear  them  ask  each  other  (if  you  can 
understand  the  cat  language),"  Are  you  going  to  the  club 
this  evening?"  and  "Shall  I  see  you  at  the  'show'  next 
fall  f"  

JOYS  OF   THE  STEAMSHIP  HUNT. 

BY  WILLIAM   HEMMINGWAY. 

THE  sport  of  steamship-hunting  is  the  finest  I  ever  en- 
joyed. It  has  more,  excitement  in  it  than  any  other 
I  have  ever  heard  of.  If  yon  catch  your  ship  properly  you 
are  happier  than  the  slayer  of  many  lions;  if  you  don't 
catch  her — well,  there  are  some  possibilities  too  shiverish 
to  think  about. 

Of  course  the  kind  of  steamship-hunting  I  mean  is  the 
game  instituted  by  the  big  newspapers  in  such  a  case  as 
that  of  I. ii  (iiixmi/iic.  when  recently  she  was  eleven  days 
overdue  from  Havre  because  one  of  her  piston-heads  broke 
down.  This  game  is  played  with  a  tug-boat,  a  full  equip- 
ment of  night  -  glasses,  and  a  great  amount  of  patience. 
Just  think  of  how  important  the  results  are!  Within  the 
ci]Tiiii  of  New  York,  Boston,  Buffalo,  and  Washington — the 
territory  wherein  New  York  newspapers  are  chiefly  taken 
— there  are  at  least  ten  millions  of  readers,  all  anxious  for 
every  scrap  of  news  of  the  missing  ship.  Hundreds  of 
these  people  have  friends  or  relatives  on  board,  but  every 
one  of  I  he  vast  number  is  equally  eager  to  hear  of  the  ship's 
.-al'e  arrival,  and  all  about  the  reason  for  her  lateness. 

If  the  lion-hunter's  rifle  misses  tire  he  loses  his  life,  but 
if  the  steamship-hunter  misses  his  game  he  loses  most  of 
his  good  name  and  all  of  his  employment.  Imagine,  then, 
the  studious  skill  he  devotes  to  sweeping  the  wide  field  of 
ocean  with  his  glasses.  He  knows  that  half  a  dozen  other 
tug-loads  of  reporters  are  out  on  the  same  errand,  and  that 
it'  any  of  them  "beat"  him  he'd  better  sail  right  down  into 
Davy  Jones's  locker  and  lock  it  from  the  inside. 

The'  ing  of  a  N'ew  York  paper  went  down  to  the  Quaran- 
tine' station  at  Stateu  Island  on  that  very  cold  Friday  even- 


ing three  days  before  La  Gascogne  was  heard  from.  She 
was  then  eight  days  overdue.  Three  reporters  and  an  artist 
were  aboard  the  tug.  They  called  at  the  telegraph  office 
at  Quarantine,  and  learned  that  nothing  had  been  heard  of 
the  French  ship  from  Sandy  Hook  or  Fire  Island.  The 
only  thing  to  do  was  to  go  down  to  the  entrance  of  the 
Harbor  and  wait  and  hope — especially  hope.  Just  before 
the  steamship-hunters  left  the  snug  warm  telegraph  office 
the  instruments  began  to  sputter.  The  operator  in  the 
Sandy  Hook  tower  was  saying. 

"  Wind  blowing  fifty^six  miles  an  hour  from  the  N.  \V." 
Two  wise  men,  who  had  been  to  sea  a  few  times,  insisted 
on  staying  several  miles  inside  of  Sandy  Hook,  but  the 
other  man  insisted  a  great  deal  harder  on  going.  Off  we 
went,  after  a  very  short  debate.  The  wind  rattled  the 
pilot-house  windows,  and  if  the  door  fell  ajar  a  moment 
the  breeze  nearly  whipped  it  off  and  blew  it  away.  The 
bay  was  covered  with  floating  ice.  There  were  some  cakes 
almost  as  big  as  a  city  block,  and  some  looked  tiny  enough 
to  put  in  a  glass  of  water;  but  most  of  them  were  as  long 
and  wide  as  the  deck  of  a  big  canal-boat.  Every  time 
one  of  the  big  fellows  crunched  against  our  bow  we 
couldn't  help  wondering  whether  it  was  coming  through. 
The  moon  flooded  the  vast  field  of  white,  and  made  it  look 
as  if  we  were  sailing  over  a  great  prairie.  Now  and  then 
we  came  to  patches  of  clear  blue  water,  and  these  danced 
iu  the  moon's  rays  like  giant  turquoises.  The  tug's  con- 
densed steam  rolled  and  bounded  along,  seeming  like  great 
masses  of  ivory.  The  intense  cold  caused  this  curious 
effect.  Everything  was  fairylike,  except  the  harsh  grind- 
ing and  carmonlike  thumps  of  the  ice. 

Off  the  point  of  Sandy  Hook  we  were  almost  clear  of  ice. 
Nobody  could  see  anything  that  looked  like  a  steamship 
coining  from  the  eastward.  The  ice  had  kept  the  water 
quiet,  but  here  in  the  open  it  was  heaving  and  pitching 
under  the  lash  of  the  gale.  We  ran  into  the  Horse- 
shoe inside  of  Sandy  Hook,  trying  to  get  up  to  the  landing, 
so  th ;i t  if  we  hail  very  late  uews  to  send  we  could  telegraph 
ii  from  Sandy  Hook,  instead  of  Quarantine,  which  was  an 
hour  to  the  north  of  us.  Ice  was  packed  and  jammed  so 
thick  and  tight  inside  the  Horseshoe  that  not  even  an 
icicle  could  be  pushed  into  it.  After  our  tug  narrowly 
escaped  being  caught  and  held  fast  for  the  night  we  backed 
out.  No  use  trying  to  laud. 


548 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"Mast-Iiead  light  to  the  east'cl !"  sang  out  onr  skipper 
as  we  rounded  the  point  of  the  Hook.  Has  your  heart  ever 
begun  to  dance  at  the  sight  of  a  school  of  bluefisli  when 
you  were  running  down  toward  them  with  four  squids 
trailing  from  your  cat-boat?  Have  you  ever  heard  a  deer 
coiue  crashing  through  the  thicket  toward  your  rifle? 
Imagine  us,  then,  when  we  heard  those  words.  Every 
man  whipped  out  a  night-glass,  or  waited  eagerly  for  his 
neighbor's.  A  speck  of  yellow  light  ou  the  horizon  crawled 
slowly  up  the  blue  sky. 

"She's  a  liner,"  said  our  captain.  "The  ice  and  the 
hurricane  have  sent  all  the  channel  buoys  adrift"  (you  know 
the  ship  channel  is  lighted  with  electric  lamps  like  Fifth 
Avenue),  "so  her  pilot  will  anchor  outside." 

Away  went  the  tug  at  full  speed.  The  yellow  mast-head 
light  kept  growing  higher,  like  a  meteor  going  backward. 
Soon  we  could  distinguish  the  dim  white  shape  of  a  giant 
steamship.  As  she  came  nearer  we  saw  that  she  was  ice- 
coated  from  the  water-line  to  one  hundred  feet  above  the 
deck.  The  lights  glowed  and  twinkled  out  of  the  cabin 
ports  like  the  candles  shining  out  of  the  white  churches  we 
used  to  have  when  we  were  little  boys.  The  big  ship  an- 
chored not  far  from  the  Sandy  Hook  Lightship  (six  miles 
out  on  the  Atlantic).  Our  Captain  knew  her  for  the  Teu- 
tonic as  readily  as  you  would  know  your  father  in  the 
street.  On  account  of  the-  high  waves  we  dared  not  go 
within  one  hundred  feet,  for  fear  of 
being  dashed  against  the  steamship's 
side.  Our  tug's  bow  swung  up  in  the 
wind,  and  we  began  a  conversation  with 
the  officer  ou  the  Teutonics  bridge, 
our  words  shooting  back  and  forth  across 
fifty  yards  of  icy  wind  that  sped  be- 
tween us  at  the  rate  of  fifty-six  miles 
an  hour.  The  Teutonic  had  no  news  of 
La  Gascognc. 

On  that  Monday  afternoon  when  the 
telegraph-operator  in  Fire  Island  tower 
reported  the  missing  Guxmyin>  approach- 
ing his  station,  our  -tug  started  nut 
again.  The  many  weary  and  fruitless 
nights  of  watching  and  cruising  were 
all  forgotten.  The  searchers  hurried 
through  dinner  in  the  galley,  and  drank 
big  mugs  of  coffee  in  gulps.  Every  one 
was  too  happy  to  stay  long  at  any  thing. 
I  never  knew  the  distance  between  the 
Battery  and  the  outer  light-ship  to  be  so 
long.  From  here,  at  last,  we  spied  a 
glimmer  of  red  on  the  sky-line.  If  en- 
thusiasm burned,  there  wouldn't  have 
been  a  lens  left  in  one  of  those  glasses. 
Men  perched  ou  the  top  of  the  pilot-house 
to  see  better. 

'•  That's  the  Gascoi/ne — three  red  lights 
at  the  mast-head — going  under  repairs," 
cried  the  mate,  from  the  loftiest  perch. 

Every  minute  dragged  outrageously 
nutil  we  got  alongside  of  the  steamship. 
Nothing  in  her  appearance  except  the 
three  red  lights  indicated  that  anything 
was  wrong.  She  was  moving  slowly — 
only  eight  miles  an  hour.  We  ran  un- 
der her  stern,  and  got  alongside  her  lee 
bow.  Groups  of  passengers  gathered 
along  the  rails,  although  it  was  uow  very 
near  midnight.  They  cheered  the  men 
who  came  so  far  to  welcome  them.  An 
officer  on  the  bridge  told  of  the  accident 
in  a  dozen  words.  Through  one  of  the 
ports  we  could  see  a  blue-jacketed  stew- 
ard polishing  a  plate. 

"Has  Faure  formed  a  cabiuet  yet?" 
shouted  one  passenger. 

The  answer  we  gave  him  was  lost  in 
the  chorus  of  cheers.  Some  one  weighted 
a  copy  of  the  ship's  log.  and  threw  it 
aboard  our  tug. 


But  while  all  this  was  very  pleasant,  it  was  not  enough. 
The  ship's  officers  promised  to  lower  a  companion-ladder 
for  our  men  to  go  aboard. 

.  A  long  wait.  No  ladder.  Onr  own  skipper  solved  the 
problem  by  ordering  his  men  to  throw  up  a  twenty-foot 
wooden  ladder — a  fragile  thing.  Such  roars  in  English 
and  counter-roars  in  French  as  there  were  while  that  laddi-r 
was  being  arranged! 

"Take  a  couple  of  bights  of  that  line,  and  make  it  fast 
on  the  third  rung,  you  three-fingered  blacksmith  !"  yelled 
our  mate. 

The  Frenchmen  guessed  what  he  meant.  At  last  the  lad- 
der was  up,  resting  ou  our  deck,  and  its  end  scraping  the 
Gascoync's  side.  There  was  great  danger  that  at  any  mo- 
ment the  top  end  might  catch  on  an  iron  plate  as  onr  roll- 
ing tug  pushed  it  upward.  Then  the  great  weight  of  the 
tug  would  crush  the  ladder  into  matchwood.  No  matter; 
that  was  one  of  the  nerve-tickling  details  of  the  newspaper 
steamship  hunt.  Up  ran  two  reporters  and  an  artist,  one 
after  the  other,  while  men  stood  by  to  throw  them  life- 
buoys if  the  ladder  should  be  smashed. 

But  they  got  aboard  all  right.  Afterward  came  the  in- 
terviewing, the  hurried  writing  of  copy,  the  telegraphing 
from  a  secret  place  in  Staten  Island  out  of  the  reach  of 
news  thieves;  but  all  that  is  the  mere  recital  of  how  we 
carried  home  onr  game. 


ONE    OF    THE    NERVE-TICKLING    DETAILS    OF  THE    HUNT. 


549 


HARPEK'S  EOUND  TABLE 


THE  YOUNG  BEACH-COMBERS  OF 
MONMOUTH. 

BY  AGNES  CARR  SAGE. 

SAY  lie  sha'n'i  come  in!'' 
"Ainl  I  I rll  \ou  he  sliull!" 

The  boys'  voices  rose  high  anil  angry:  their  attitude  was 
threatening;  .-mil  :il  tin-  sound  of  contention  a  Levy  of  other 
barefooted  urchins  came  scampering  over  the  damp  sand, 
shouting,  "  Ili!  a  scrap,  a  scrap!"  and  eager  to  see  fair 
play. 

••What's  it  all  about?"  inquiredNed  Eaton, a  good-look- 
ing youth,  rather  better  dressed  than  his  companions. 

"It's  ahotit  little.  Jem  Ferguson,"  spoke  up  the  shorter 
and  stockier  of  the  belligerents.  "Kit  Bnudy  here  says 
he  oughtn't  to  he  let  into  the  beach-combing,  and  I  hold 
it's  mean  us  eramp-lish  to  bar  him  out  just,  because  he's 
weak  and  pindlin'  and  no  account  in  a  boat." 

"So  it  is,  so  it  is."  chorused  the  listening  youngsters. 

But  Kit  put  in  quickly,  "All  right,  let  him  iu  then  ;  but 
if  you  do  he'll  hoodoo  every  mother's  son  of  us.  Who 
killed  the  luck  bird  last  June?" 

"  Not  Jem,"  cried  Herbert  Woolley. 

"  No  ;  but  his  daddy  did,  and  if  he  had  been  drinking  too 
much  hard  cider  at  the  time,  that  makes  no  diiference,  and 
the  whole  family  has  had  a  powerful  sight  of  bad  fortune 
ever  since.  Jest  two  weeks  after  their  cow  choked  to 
death  with  a  green  apple:  Jem's  hip  trouble  grew  worse; 
and  Jake  Smithers  told  me  that  the  smack  in  which  Dan 
Ferguson  sails  is  snre  to  come  back  with  a  light  haul. 
The  men  all  look  on  him  as  a  Jonah,  for  fish  don't  come  to 
the  nets  of  those  who  take  the  life  of  a  hawk." 

"Well,  but  ill-luck  can't  be  inherited,  like  consumption 
or  the  shape  of  one's  nose,"  protested  Herbert,  "and  even 
if  it  could,  Jem's  having  a  bit  of  sand  to  sift  couldn't  affect 
the  rest  of  us." 

Still  the  boys  glanced  at  each  other  doubtfully,  and  one 
muttered.  "We'll  each  have  more  ground,  and  so  more 
chance,  it'  he  isn't  there,"  while  Kit  clinched  his  argument 
by  declaring,  "Oh,  if  Bert  has  his  way  we  all  may  as  well 
give  up  all  hope  of  winning  that,"  pointing,  as  he  spoke,  to 
a  flaring  yellow  poster  which  adorned  one  of  the  bathing- 
houses. 

ONE  HUNDRED  AND  FIFTY  DOLLARS!!! 

was  the  heading,  in  conspicuous  capitals  two  inches  long, 
and  below  this  amount  was  offered,  iu  smaller  type,  as  a 
reward  for  the  return  of  a  diamond  earring  lost  by  one  of 
the  summer  visitors  in  r.enton,  the  pretty  New  Jersey  vil- 
lage where  these  lads  lived,  and  which  was  a  quasi-fash- 
ionable sea-side  resort  for  three  mouths  of  the  year.  Now, 
however,  the  broad  white  beach  was  given  into  the  hands 
of  those  young  natives  who  in  the  early  fall  make  a  busi- 
ness of  going  carefully  over  it,  rubbing  the  iridescent  sand 
between  their  lingers,  and  seeking  for  any  articles  there 
lost  and  hidden  during  the  gay  warm  season. 

In  grim  silence,  then,  the  boys  re-read  the  advertisement 
which  all  knew  by  heart,  and  Ned  Eaton  suggested,  "  Let's 
take  a  vote.  Those  who  want  Limpy  Jem  to  have  a  show 
drop  a  white  shell  in  my  hat,  and  those  who  are  for  freez- 
ing him  out  a  purple  one." 

"Yes,  yes,  that  is  a  good  way;  that  will  be  fair."  And 
the  members  of  this  hastily  formed  Beach-Comber's  Union 
turned  aside  with  relief  1o  select  their  ballots  from  the 
deep-sea  treasures  cast  up  by  the  bobbing  foam-capped 
waves. 

Five  minutes  later,  then,  the  polls  were  open,  and  Kit 
looked  triumphant  and  Bert  annoyed  as  both  noted  that 
the  majority  of  the  voters  were  endeavoring  to  conceal 
dark  mussel-shells  in  their  brown  little  fists.  There  was 
no  doubt  that  Jem's  fate  was  sealed,  when  suddenly  a  faint 
shout  attracted  their  attention,  and  all  started  at  sight  of 
a  slender  auburn-haired  lassie  speeding  toward  them  from 
the  direction  of  the  village.  "Gee  whizz,  but  it's  Eileen 
Ferguson  !"  .shrieked  small  Teddy  Todd,  "and  her  temper 
is  as  liery  as  her  curly  mop." 

Certainly  there  was  a  dangerous  flash  in  her  big  gray 
eyes  and  a  sharp  ring  in  her  young  voice  as,  coming  nearer, 


she  cried  :  "  So,  Kit  Bundy,  you  are  playin'the  snake  in  the 
grass  ;m:iin,  are  you  ?  You  never  did  like  my  brother,  and 
now  1  liear  you  are  tryin' to  have  him  put  out  of  the  heaeh- 
eotnliiii'.  Poor  Jemmy,  who  is  too  sickly  to  go  to  the  lishin'- 
hanks.  and  has  so  looked  forward  to  the  fall  in  hoi.es  of 
earnin'  a  few  dollars  for  the  mither!  I  should  think  ye'd  be 
ashamed  of  yourself!  Dicksou,  the  bathiu'-inaster,  tonld 
me  how  \ou  wre  talkiii' to  the  others:  but  you  won't  mind 
him.  will"  you,  boys  ?"  And  there  was  that  in  the  appeal- 
in^,  half  tearful  glance  which  the  earnest  little  sister  turned 
upon  them  that  made  most  of  her  hearers  look  sheepish,  and 
become  deeply  absorbed  iu  stirring  up  the  sand  with  their 

toes. 

But  Kit  was  furious.  "What  ?"  he  roared;  "be  dictated 
to  by  a  girl?  Not  if  I  know  our  combers.  Go  on,  fellows, 
and  Mile  as  you  intended;  -while,  Miss  Impudence,  the 
sooner  you  take  yourself  off  the  better." 

Instinctively,  however,  Eileen  turned  to  young  Woolley. 
"Oh,  Bert,  Bert!"  she  wailed,  "don't  let  them  throw  my 
Jemmy  out.  He  has  had  such  a  dreadful  summer,  and  this 
— this  will  break  his  heart.  We  need  the  money  so  much, 
and  uiver  did  he  dream  his  old  friends  could  treat  him 
so."  Then  all  at  ouce  her  wrath  dissolved  in  a  girlish 
burst  of  tears. 

"  Pepper  me  if  lean  stand  that,  bad  luck  or  not, "grow  led 
Ned,  hurriedly  picking  up  a  white  shell  and  Hinging  it  into 
the  hat;  and  as  boys,  like  older  people,  ate  very  much 
akin  to  a  flock  of  sheep,  the  majority  followed  suit,  and 
Jem  Ferguson  was,  as  in  former  years,  numbered  with  the 
beach-combers,  the  three  purple  shells  cast  by  Kit  and  two 
of  his  chums  not  being  sufficient  to  rule  him  out. 

"A  thousand  thanks,  boys!  You  are  blissid  darlints,  ivery 
one  of  ye — barriu' that  trio,"  exclaimed  Eileen,  who.  though 
American  horn,  ill  moments  of  excitement  sometimes  be- 
trayed her  ancestry  by  her  speech. 

When,  then,  on  the  morning  of  September  18th,  the  comb- 
ers gathered  to  commence  operations,  one  of  the  happiest 
faces  there  was  that  of  little  "  Limpy,"  hopping  briskly 
along  on  his  crutches,  and  nodding  gay  greetings  to  his  old 
comrades.  They  found  the  beach  evenly  measured  off  and 
divided  by  stakes.  The  plan  of  the  lads  of  Benton  was 
to  draw  lots  for  their  respective  portious,a  strict  though 
unwritten  law  being  that  no  one  should  poach  upon  an- 
other's grounds. 

"  See,  Kit,  you  and  I  are  neighbors,"  said  Jem,  cordially, 
to  young  Bundy.  "  Aud  such  fine  sections  as  we  have  ! 
right  in  front  of  the  great  Naiad  Hotel.  We  have  a  good 
chance  for  the  diamond.  Oh,  but  don't  I  wish  I  could 
find  it !" 

But  Kit  only  growled  something  about  "luck-bird-kill- 
ers" under  his  breath,  and  strode  away  to  his  own  pre- 
serve. Always  rather  a  leader  among  his  companions,  he 
was  chagrined  by  his  defeat,  and  felt  injured  and  annoyed 
by  the  cripple's  presence. 

As  the  day  wore  on,  however,  he  found  it  difficult  to  keep 
up  his  antagonism  to  cheery  Jem,  who  ignored  all  rebuffs, 
and  chatted  away  in  the  most  friendly  as  well  as  quaint 
manner — now  about  the  sea,  wondering  why  it  changed  its 
hue  from  blue  to  green  and  green  to  gray  ;  and  now  about 
the  fish-hawks  circling  overhead,  and  longing  to  be  one  of 
them,  that  he  too  might  fly  off  to  some  warm  Southern  land 
before  the  cold,  biting  winter  came  on. 

"What  a  queer  uu  you  are!"  remarked  Kit  at  length. 
"  What  makes  yon  think  of  such  things  1  Why,  I'd  a  heap 
rather  be  a  boy  than  a  bird." 

"  Yes, 'cause  you  are  so  big  and  strong.  You  can  make  your 
way  in  the  world,  and  your  back  isn't  crooked,  and  your 
legs  all  drawed  up.  Now  I,  you  see,  am  neither  flesh  nor 
fowl  nor  good  red  herring,"  and  Jem  cackled  a  feeble  little 
laugh,  but  without  a  tinge  of  bitterness.  How,  too,  he  en- 
joyed the  lunch  eaten  on  the  beach,  and  insisted  that  ev- 
ery one  must  taste  the  pie  Eileen  had  made  for  him  out  of 
"  two  penaties  and  a  bit  of  a  lemon." 

For  three  da\s  tlie  weather  was  perfect,  and  the  comb- 
ers "  made  hay  while  the  sun  shone,"  gathering  quite  a 
profitable  collection  of  old  iron  and  nails,  children's  toys, 
small  coins;  and  inexpensive  pins-and  pieces  of  jewelry, 
while  Bert  Woolley  had  the  good  fortune  to  come  upon  a 


550 


HARPER'S   BOUND   TABLE 


silver  watch  little  the  worse  for  its  sojourn  iu  the  damp 
sand. 

But  on  the  fourth  morning  there  came  a  change.  Heavy 
clouds  obscured  old  Sol  from  view,  the  sea  roared  with  a 
lo\v  ominous  undertone,  and  the  wind  blew  r;i\v  and  chill 
from  the  northeast,  making  the  lads  shake  and  shiver,  and 
seeming  to  freeze  weakly  Jem  to  the  very  marrow  and  set 
bis  limbs  to  aching.  Then  in  the  night  the  storm  broke, 
one  of  those  fierce  September  gales  which  often  sweep  the 
coast,  and  for  forty-eight  hours  roared  and  raged  without, 
while  the  impatient  urchins  grumbled  and  raged  within. 

It  was  an  exceedingly  wet  world  that  at  last  emerged, 
bright  and  glistening,  after  the  deluge,  but  Kit  Bundy 
•was  early  astir  and  down  on  the  shore  to  see  what  havoc 
the  tempest  had  made.  Dead  fish,  drift-wood,  portions  of 
wrecks,  and  other  flotsam  and  jetsam  strewed  the  beach,  up 
which  he  slowly  sauntered,  kicking  before  him  a  round 
stone  that  bounded  merrily  across  the  sand.  Presently,  in 
front  of  the  Naiad  Hotel,  a  particularly  vigorous  kick  sent 
it  high  in  air,  and  then  landed  it  in  a  deep  hollow  worn  by 
the  waves.  Mechanically  Kit  paused  to  lift  his  impro- 
vised plaything  from  the  hole,  when  something  beside  it. 
caused  him  to  fall  on  his  knees  with  a  low  stifled  gasp. 
Not  another  sound  escaped  him,  but  there  was  a.  ue\v  and 
curious  expression  on  his  face  when  he  finally  rose  ami  al- 
most ran  to  the  boarding-house  he  and  his  father  called 
"home."  Later  in  the  day  the  long  line  of  beach-combers 
were  electritied  by  the  message  that  passed  from  mouth  to 
mouth,  "  Kit  is  the  lucky  one  ;  he  has  found  the  diamond 
earring." 

From  far  and  near  the  boys  hastened  to  behold  the 
jewel,  about  which  there  could  not  have  been  more  interest 
had  it  beeu  the  Koh-i-noor  itself,  and  thefinderhad  to  point 
out  just  where  he  discovered  it  in  his  section,  deeply  buried 
a  foot  from  the  surface. 

"Not  so  dreadfully  hoodooed  after  all,  were  you,  Kit  .'" 
Bert  could  not  resist  remarking;  but  most  of  the  lads 
swallowed  their  own  disappointment,  and  congratulated 
him  warmly,  while  Jem  threw  his  hat  in  the  air,  piping, 

"  Hip,  hip,  hurrah  for  Bnndy,  the  prize-winner  !" 

But  the  hero  of  the  hour  did  not  appear  particularly 
pleased  with  these  attentions.  He  grew  very  red,  and 
turned  away,  muttering.  "Oh,  shut  up,  fellows!  It  isn't 
worth  inakiu'  such  a  fuss  over." 

"Just  hear  the  Rothschild,"  squeaked  Teddy  Todd. 
"One  would  think  he  picked  up  gems  every  day  iu  the 
year.  I  shouldn't  be  so  grumpy  if  I  had  had  his  luck." 

"Which  he  dou't  deserve,"  said  outspoken  Eileen,  who 
had  come  down  to  gather  drift-wood.  "Oh  dear!  how  un- 
equal things  are  in  this  world!  If  Jem  had  but  drawn  that 
side  of  the  stake  instead  of  the  other,  we  would  be  fairly 
spinuiu'  with  the  joy,  and  whiskin'  him  off  to  the  best 
doctor  iu  the  county.  Poor  lamb!  he  scarce  slept  a  wink 
last  night,  with  the  pain  iu  his  hip,  and  oughtn't  to  be  out 
here  to-day." 

Aud  the  next  morning  Jem  was  missing,  his  sister  com- 
ing to  fill  his  place,  and,  with  her  ready  Irish  wit,  parrying 
all  the  boys' jokes  on  "the  first  girl  comber  of  Monmouth." 
But  from  that  time  the  interest  in  the,  beach -combing 
flagged,  and  the  work  soon  came  to  an  end. 

One  afternoon,  not  long  after,  a  youth,  conspicuously 
conscious  of  his  Sunday  clothes  and  stift'  collar,  rang  tin1 
bell  of  a  handsome  New  York  residence,  the  shining  door- 
plate  of  which  bore  the  name,  "  J.  C.  Landon,  M.D."  He 
was  admitted  by  a  supercilious  colored  boy  in  buttons,  \\lio, 
ushering  him  into  a  luxuriantly  furnished  office,  told  him 
to  "Wait,  the  doctor  was  engaged  at  present."  And  he  did 
wait  a  full  half-hour  before  the  physician  emerged  from  an 
inner  apartment,  accompanied  by  a  lady  who  gently  sup- 
ported a  youug  girl,  richly  attired,  and  with  long  fair  hair 
floating  on  her  shoulders,  but  who  limped  painfully,  and  iu 
whose  sweet  face  was  an  expression  of  suffering  that  some- 
how reminded  Kit — for  Kit  it  was — of  Jem  Ferguson. 

"Yes,  yes,  Mrs.  Graham."  Dr.  Landon  was  saying.  ''I  see 
no  reason  why  Miss  Ethel  should  not  walk  without  crutches 
in  time.  Science  works  wonders  nowadays.  She  would  get 
on  faster  if  you  could  consent  to  let  her  go  to  my  sanitarium, 
but  since  you  are  unwilling,  I  will  visit  her  often  and  do 


the  best  I  am  able;  while  I  can  at  least  promise  that  there 
will  soon  be  no  more  of  the  neuralgia  that  causes  such  ex- 
cruciating agony."  With  which  he  bowed  his  visitors  out, 
and.  returning,  asked  briskly,  "  Well,  my  lad,  what  can  I  do 
for  you  ?  You  dou't  look  like  an  invalid." 

"  No,  sir;  I'm  pretty  hearty,"  responded  Kit,  with  a  grin. 
•'I  came  because — because  I  have  found  this, "and  without 
further  words  he  produced  a  small  box  and  opened  it. 

"My  wife's  lost  earring!  Why,  she  will  be  overjoyed!" 
exclaimed  the  physician.  "But  I  shall  have  to  turn  you 
over  to  her,  as  I  am  due  at  the  hospital,  and  haven't  a  mo- 
ment to  spare.  Here,  Xero,  ask  Mrs.  Landou  to  step  down 
to  the  om'ce."  Aud  without  more  ado  the  busy  man  hurried 
off,  leaving  the  confused  and  stammering  Kit  to  the  tender 
mercies  of  the  mistress  of  the  mansion. 

But  these  proved  very  delightful,  for  not  only  did  the 
lady  shower  him  with  graceful  thanks,  but  ordered  up  a 
dainty  little  collation  for  bis  refreshment,  which  he  ate  to 
the  sound  of  the  surgeon's  praises  as  sung  by  Nero,  who 
declared  his  master  to  be  "  De  berry  bestest  doctah  in  all 
de  United  States.  Why,  sab,  he  kin  mos'  raise  de  dead, 
and  I 'low  he  makes  de  lame  to  walk  ebery  day,  and  links 
iiottiu'  obit";  and, when  he  finally  left  the  house,  it  was 
with  a  fat  roll  of  greenbacks  snugly  tucked  in  his  pocket. 

This  was  the  hour  to  which  Christopher  Bundy  had  been 
looking  forward,  and  he  proceeded  to  make  the  most  of  it. 
Of  course  he.  went  to  the  theatre,  and  from  a  high  gallery 
seat  glowed  and  shivered  in  sympathy  with  the  hero  on 
the  boards,  and  he  followed  this  up  with  an  oyster-stew  in 
a  gayly  decorated  and  illuminated  restaurant.  But,  strange 
to  say,  he  was  not  as  happy  as  he  should  have  been,  and, — 
it  was  very  queer — the  features  of'Limpy  Jem  "would 
keep  rising  before  him,  curiously  intermingled  with  those 
of  the  lame  girl  he  had  seen  that  day,  while  he  seemed  to 
hear  again  a  weak  voice  piping,  "That's  because  you  are 
so  big  and  strong,  and  your  back  isn't,  crooked  and  your 
legs  all  drawn  up."  "  I  must  have  the  vapors,"  he  con- 
cluded, as  he  tumbled  into  Led. 

The  following  evening,  when  Kit  stepped  off  the  train  at 
llenton,  he  was  met  by  a  delegation  of  beach  -  combers,  all 
shouting:  "Hullo,  old  fellow!  Did  you  get  the  reward, 
sure  enough?  Goin' to  stand  treat  now,  ain't  yer?  Ginger- 
pop  and  sodas  for  the  crowd!"  and  insisted  upon  bearing 
him  off  to  drink  his  health  at  his  expense. 

"  Wish  poor  Limpy  was  here  too,"  remarked  Ned  Eaton, 
as  he  drained  his  glass  of  sarsaparilla.  "Does  any  one 
know  how  he  is  to-night  ?" 

"Dreadful  bad." answered  Teddy  Todd.  "They  think 
he's  dyiu'." 

"  What !  Is  he  so  sick  as  that  ?"  and  Kit's  voice  sounded 
sharp  and  unnatural. 

"Yes;  he  took  cold  that  day  before  the  storm  ;  fever  set 
in,  and  the  doctor  says  he  won't  get  well." 

It  was  nine  o'clock,  and  the  little  seaside  town  was  set- 
tling down  to  sleepy  repose,  when  a  timid  knock  summoned 
Eileen  to  the  Fergusons'  humble  portal.  Her  eyes  were 
red  and  swollen,  as  could  be  seen  by  the  blazing  pine-knot 
she  carried,  and  her  lips  quivered  as  she  cried  :  '•  Kit  Buudy 
at  this  hour!  What  brings  you  here?" 

"To  see  Jem.  Stop,  Eileen!  Don't  say  I  can't,  for  I 
must,  indeed  I  must.  I  know  I've  beeu  mean  to  him  and 
rude  to  you,  but  there  is  something  I  must  tell  him  before 
he  dies." 

There  was  so  much  wild  anxiety  in  his  manner  and 
imploring  in  his  tone  that  the  curt  refusal  on  the  girl's 
tongue  was  hushed, and  instead  she  Baid,  "Come,  then  ;  only 
don't  stay  long,"  and  led  the  way  to  the  dreary  room  where 
Jem  lay.  A  wan  smile  flitted  across  his  face  at  Muht  of 
his  guest,  and  he  murmured: 

'•  Howdy,  Kit ;  do  you  know,  I  guess  I'll  get  my  wish, 
after  all,  and  fly  away  like  the  hick-bird.s." 

Wil  h  a  low  cry,  however,  the  older  lad  threw  himself  down 
beside  the  bed,  and  sobbed  :  ••  No,  no,  Limpy  :  don't  say  that. 
You  must  stop  and  be  comfortable  and  happy  here,  lor  see, 
this  isyeurs.all  yours";  and  he  flung  upon  the  patchwork 
quilt  the  roll  of  bills  paid  him  by  Mrs.  Laudou. 

Jem  gasped.     "  What  a  big,  big  lot  of  money!     It's  the 


551 


THEN    JEM    WHISPERED:    "POOR    KIT!      BUT    I'M    GLAD    YOU'VE    TOLD    ME." 


reward,  isn't  it — the  reward  for  the  diamond  ?  But  you 
mustn't  give  it  to  nie." 

••  It  belongs  to  you.  I  never  liad  any  right  to  the  dia- 
mond, for — for  I  found  it  on  your  side  of  the  stake,  and 
buried  it  in  my  part  of  the  Ijeacb." 

After  this  confession  there  was  dead  silence  for  a  mo- 
ment. Then  ,Jrin  whispered:  "Poor  Kit!  But  I'm  glad 
you've  told  me." 

"So  am  I;  though  the  beach-combers  wijl  hiss  me  out 
of  their  company  when  they  know.  Here's  the  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars,  however,  every  penny  of  it;  and  you, 
Eileen,  must  spend  it  all  for  your  In-other";  and  he  thrust 
the  greenbacks  into  thai  astonished  maiden's  hands. 

But  Jemmy  protested  with  all  his  feeble  strength.  "I 
cannot,  I  will  not  take  it  all,"  he  said.  "Yon  were  the 
finder,  even  if  it  was  in  my  portion  of  sand.  But  we  will 
divide,  half  for  you  and  half  for  me,  and  then  the  other 
fellows  need  never  know.  It  shall  be  our  secret."  And  as 
he  was  growing  dangerously  excited,  to  this  arrangement 
Kit  had  to  consent. 

Before  leaving,  though,  he  told  the  sick  boy  .and  his  sister 
of  the  marvellous  cures  Dr.  Landon  was  said  to  have  made, 
and  of  the  fair  cripple  he  had  seen  in  his  office,  concluding 
with,  "Now,  Jem,  if  you  could  go  to  his  hospital,  mebbe 
science  would  work  some  of  those  wonders  on  you." 

••oh,  if  he  could,  if  he  only  could !"  sighed  Eileen. 

Hope,  however,  is  a  great  restorative,  and  the  following 
day  Jem  was  stronger  than  he  had  been  for  some  time, 
which  encouraged  Kit  to  take  another  trip  to  New  York, 
where  he  astonished  Dr.  Landou  by  suddenly  appearing 
before  him  and  demanding,  "Tell  me,  sir,  is  seventy-live 
dollars  enough  to  put  a  chap  iu  your  hospital  and  get  him 
cured  ?" 


"Well,  that  depends, "laughed  Dr.  Landou,  much  amused1. 
"Who  is  this  chap,  and  what  is  his  trouble?" 

As  concisely  as  possible  the  boy  told  the  story  of  lame 
Jem,  but  so  interesting  the  kindly  physician  that  he  rail' 
down  to  Benton  expressly  to  see  the  case,  and  the  result 
was  the  new  year  found  the  young  invalid  established  in  a 
great  airy  ward,  where  the  sunshine  sifted  in  through  a 
beautiful  lattice-work  of  window  plants, and  cheery,  bright- 
faced  attendants  were  ready  to  answer  every  call  and  supply 
every  want. 

"It  seems  like  Paradise,"  said  Jem,  nestling  among  the- 
soft  pillows,  and  that  proved  a  truly  blissful  winter,  in  spite 
of  some  pain  and  discomfort  he  had  to  endure,  while  he 
made  life-long  friends  of  Mrs.  Landon  and  Mrs.  Graham, 
who  paid  him  frequent  visits,  and  brought  him  lovely  flow- 
ers and  delicious  fruit  from  the  fair-haired  Ethel. 

And  at.  length,  wheu  the  spring-time  came  over  the 
land,  Bert  Woolley  and  Kit  Buudy  one  evening  helped  off 
the  cars  a  very  pale  but  very  radiant  lad,  while  the  former 
said, 

••  See.  Limpy,  there  are  all  the  beach-combers  coming  to 
welcome  you  home." 

Cordially  the  rough  youths  crowded  about  their  young 
comrade,  healed  and  restored  as  though  by  a  miracle,  and 
shook  him  warmly  by  the  hand,  wondering  to  see  in  a  slight 
limp  the  only  trace  of  his  former  lameness.  But  the  throng 
parted  as  an  auburn  head  suddenly  flashed  through  their 
midst,  and  Eileen,  throwing  her  arms  around  her  brother, 
cried  : 

"  Oh,  Jem,  Jem!  this  is  the  happy  day  for  sure — to  see  yott 
walking  on  your  own  two  feet,  while  the  father  has  signed 
the  pledge,  and  a  pair  of  luck-birds  are  building  their  nest 
iu  the  big  pine-tree  right  forniust  our  door." 


552 


SNOW-SHOES    AND     SLEDGES. 


BY     KIRK     M  U  N  R  O  E. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 


SERGE   DISCOVERS   A   CURIOUS   CAVERN. 

AT  the,  point  where  our  travellers  had  again  struck  the 
Yukon,  nearly  1500  miles  from  its  month,  it  was  still  a 
mighty  stream  two  miles  wide.  Above,  this  they  found  it 
hounded  on  both  sides  by  mountains  that  often  approached 
to  its  very  waters,  where,  in  sheer  precipices  hundreds  of 
feet  high,  they  found  gigantic  palisades,  similar  to  those  of 
the  Hudson,  which  are  known  as  the  "tipper  Ramparts. " 
On  the  lower  river  the  sledge  party  had  journeyed  over  a 
smooth  surface,  on  which  were  fe\v  obstructions.  Their 
course  from  Anvik  had  at  first  been  due  north,  then  north- 
east, then  east,  and  was  now  due  south,  the  source  of  the 
Yukon  towards  which  they  were  now  travelling  being  some 
ten  degrees  south  of  its  great  arctic  bend. 

Owing  to  this,  they  now  found  themselves  confronted 
by  the  hardest  kind  of  sledging  over  rough  hummocky  ice 
that  was  often  piled  in  chaotic  ridges  twenty  and  thirty 
feet  high.  As  the  river  freezes  first  at  its  most  northerly 
point,  and  this  belt  of  solid  ice  is  gradually  extended  south, 
or  back  toward  its  source,  the  floating  cakes  of  its  upper 
reaches,  borne  by  the  swift  current,  are  piled  on  the  ever- 
advancing  barrier  in  confused  masses  that  stretch  across 
the  river  like  windrows. 

In  the  spring,  when  the  ice  breaks  up  and  is  hurled  irre- 
sistibly down  stream  on  the  swollen  current,  the  same  ef- 
fect is  reproduced  on  a  vastly  increased  scale.  Then  the 
upper  river  breaks  first,  and  a  sudden  rise  of  water  from 
some  great  tributary  starts  the  ice  over  the  still  solid  bar- 
rier below.  The  huge  cakes  slide,  jam,  push,  and  crash 
over  the  still  unbroken  ice  sheet,  until  they  are  piled  in  a 
vast  gleaming  mass  seventy  or  eighty  feet  in  height,  from 


a  quarter  of  a  mile  to  one  mile  in  length,  and  extending 
from  bank  to  bank. 

This  mighty  gorge  must  give  way  at  length,  and  when  it 
does  it  goes  with  a  roaring  fury  that  is  terrifying  and 
grand  beyond  description.  After  grinding  and  tearing  on- 
ward for  several  miles,  or  perhaps  less  than  one,  the 
furious  impulse  is  again  checked  by  another  solid  barrier, 
which  must  in  turn  be  broken  down  and  swept  away,  its 
added  weight  giving  increased  energy  to  the  mighty  force. 

So  the  ice  crashes  its  resistless  way  down  the  whole  Yu- 
kon Valley  to  Bering  Sea,t\vo  thousand  miles  distant, sweep- 
ing everything  before  it,  mowing  down  vast  areas  of  forest, 
submerging  islands,  tearing  out  banks,  and  leaving  every- 
where traces  of  its  terrible  progress  in  the  shape  of  huge 
ice  cakes,  weighing  many  tons,  stranded  high  above  ordi- 
nary water  level. 

Although  Phil  Ryder  and  his  companions  were  not  to 
witness  this  grand  exhibition  of  one  of  nature's  mightiest 
forces,  they  were  sadly  inconvenienced  and  delayed  by  the 
uncomfortable  fashion  in  which  their  frozen  highway  had 
been  constructed  some  mouths  earlier.  If  they  could  have 
left  the  river  and  followed  along  its  banks,  they  would  have 
done  so;  but  this  was  out  of  the  question,  not  only  on  ac- 
count, of  their  rugged  character,  but  because  on  their  tim- 
bered portions  the  snow  lay  many  feet  in  depth,  while  from 
the  river  it  had  been  so  blown  by  strong  north  winds  that 
for  long  stretches  the  ice  was  barely  covered.  This  en- 
abled the  sledge  men  to  walk  without  snow-shoes, which 
was  a  great  comfort  to  all  three,  but  especially  to  Jalap 
Coombs,  who  had  not  yet  learned  to  use  the  netted  frames 
with  "ease  and  fluency,"  as  Phil  said. 

To  this  light-hearted  youth  the  sight  of  bis  sailor  friend 
wrestling  with  the  difficulties  of  inland  navigation  as 


FOR    A    SINGLE    MINUTE    THEY    GAZED    IN    BREATHLESS    AWE. 

553 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


practised  in  arctic  regions  afforded  :i  never-failing  source 
of  mirlli.  A  single  glance  at  .Jalap's  lank  ligure  enveloped 
in  I'ui's.  \\  i  111  his  weather-beaten  f:irr  peering  fnpin  tin-  re- 
eessea  <pf  :i  hair-fringed  licpoil.  was  enough  at  any  lime  1" 
make  1'hil  laugh.  Jalap  on  snow  -shoes  lliat.  in  spite  c,l'  .-ill 
liis  efforts,  would  slide  ill  c\crv  dircrlioii  lint  tin;  our  de- 
sired, ami  .lalap  gazing  at  a  frcpsly  world  llmmjjli  :i  pair  of 
wooden  snow-gobies,  were  sights  that  even  sober-sided 

101111(1    hllllKPI'olls. 

Itnl  funniest  (if  all  was  to  sec  Jalap  drive  a  dog-team 
'I'his  he  was  now  obliged  to  do.  for.  while  they  still  had 
three  sledv.es.  I  h.'\  had  heen  unable  IIP  procure  any  Indians 
at  Forty  Mile  to  lake  the  places  of  Knrilla  and  Cliitsnh.  So 
\vhilc  1'hil,  who  was  now  an  expert  in  the  art  of  dog-driv- 
ing. .-Mid  could  handle  a  six  yard  whip  like  a  native,  took 
turns  with  Seme  in  breaking  I  he  road.  Jalap  was  always 
allowed  lo  bring  up  the  rear.  Ilisdov,*  had  nothing  I"  feai 
from  the  whip, except,  indeed,  when  it  tripped  him  up  so 
that  he  fell  on  lop  of  them,  but  they  cringed  and  whined 
beneath  die  torrent  of  incomprehensible  sen,  terms  inces- 
santly poured  forth  hy  the  strange  master,  who  talked  to 
them  as  though  they  were  so  many  Inhherly  sailors. 

'•  Port  your  helium  !      Hard  a-porl  !"  he  would  roar  to  tbe 

acc pa n iment  of  flying  chunks  of  ice  that  he  could  throw 

with  amazing  certainty  of  aim.  Then,"  Steady!  So!  Start 
a  sheet  and  give  her  a  rap  full.  Now  keep  her  so!  Keep 
her  so!  D'ye  hear?  Let  her  fall  off  a  fraction  of  a  p'iut 
and  I'll  rake  ye  fore  and  aft.  Now,  then,  bullies,  pull  all  to- 
gether. Yo-ho,  heave!  Nosojeriug!  Ah, you  will,  will  ye. 
\e  furry  sea-cook!  Then  take  that,  and  stow  it  in  your 
bread-locker.  Shake  your  hay-seed  and  climb — cliiiili.  I 
tell  ye.  A\ast  heaving!"  And  so  on,  hour  after  hour, 
while  the  dogs  would  jump  and  pull  and  tangle  their  "  run- 
ning rigging, "as  Jalap  named  the  trace- thongs,  and  the  two 
boys  would  shout  with  laughter. 

But  while  the  journey  thus  furnished  something  of  mer- 
riment, it  was  also  filled  with  tribulations.  So  bitter  was 
the  cold  that  their  bloodless  lips  were  often  too  stiff  for 
laughter  or  even  for  speech.  SIP  rough  was  the  way,  that 
I  hex  rarely  made  more  than  eight  or  ten  miles  in  a  day  of 
exhausting  labor.  Several  dogs  broke  their  legs  amid  the 
chaotic  ice  blocks  of  the  ever-recurring  ridges,  and  had  to 
be  shot.  Along  the  palisaded  Kamparts  it  was  difficult  to 
find  timbered  places  in  which  to  camp.  Their  dog  feed 
was  running  low,  and  there  was  none  to  be  had  in  the 
wretched  native  villages  that  they  passed  at  long  inter- 
vals. 

At  length  the  setting  sun  of  one  evening  found  them  at 
a  point  w  here  the  river,  narrowed  to  a  few  hundred  yards, 
was  bounded  on  one  side  by  a  lofty  precipice  of  rock,  and 
on  the  other  by  a  steeply  sloping  bank  that,  devoid  of  tim- 
ber, seemed  to  descend  from  an  open  plateau.  They  halted 
beside  a  single  log  of  drift  that,  half  embedded  in  ice,  was 
the  only  available  hit  of  firewood  in  sight.  It  was  a  bleak 
and  bitter  place  ill  which  to  spend  an  arctic  night,  and  they 
shivered  in  anticipation  of  what  they  were  to  suffer  during 
its  long  hours. 

"  1  am  fioinv,  to  climb  to  the  top  of  the  bank, "said  Scr^e, 
"and  see  if  I  can't  find  some  more  wood.  If  I  do,  I'll  roll  it 
down  ;  so  look  out!" 

Suiting  his  action  to  his  words  the  active  lad  started 
with  a  run  that  carried  him  a  few  yards  up  the  steep 
ascent.  It  was  so  abrupt  that  he  was  on  the  point  of  slid- 
ing back,  and  dug  his  feet  sharply  into  the  snow  to  secure 
a  hold.  At  the  same  instant  he  uttered  a  cry,  threw  up  his 
arms,  and  dropped  from  the  sight  of  his  astonished  eniii- 
I ions  as  though  he  had  fallen  down  a  well. 

Before  they  could  make  a  move  toward  his  rescue  they 
were  more  astounded  than  ever  to  hear  his  voice,  somewhat 
muffled,  hilt  apparently  close  beside  them. 

"I'm  all  right!"  he  cried,  cheerily.  "That  is, I  think  I 
am,  and  I  believe  I  can  cut  my  way  out.  Don't  try  to 
climb  the  bank.  Just  wait  a  minute." 

Then  the  bank  began  to  tremble  as  though  shaken  by  a 
gentle  earthquake, and  suddenly  a  hand  clutching  a  knife 
shot  out  from  it  so  close  to  Jalap  Coombs  that  the  start h-d 
sailor  leaped  back  to  avoid  it,  stumbled  over  a  sledge,  and 
plunged  headlong  among  his  own  team  of  dogs,  who  were 


hini;  in  the  snow  beyond,  patiently  waiting  to  he  unhar- 
nessed. l!y  the  time  the  yelling,  howling  riiass  of  man  and 
doits  was  disentangled  and  separated, 'Serge  had  emerged 
from  the  mysterious  bank,  and  stood  looking  as  though  he- 
did  not  quite  understand  what  had  happened.  Behind 
him  was  a  black  opening  into  which  Phil  was  peering  with 
the.  liveliest  curiosity. 

"Of  all  the  miracles  1  ever  heard  of  this  is  the  strangest!" 
he  ei  icd.  •'  What  does  it  mean,  old  man  .'" 

••  I  don't  exactly  know,"  answered  Serge  :  "  but  I  rather 
think  it,  is  a  moss  blanket.  Anyhow .  that's  an  elegant 
place  to  crawl  into  out  of  the  cold.  Seems  to  be  plenty  of 
w  ood  too." 

Serge  was  right  in  his  conjecture.  What  appeared  to 
he  the  river-bank  was  merely  a  curtain  of  tough,  closely 
compacted  Alaskan  moss,  closely  resembling  peat  in  its 
structure,  one  foot  thick,  and  reaching  from  the  crest  of  an 
overhanging  bank  to  the  edge  of  the  river.  It  had  thus 
held  together,  and  fallen  to  its  present  position  when  the 
river  undermined  and  swept  away  the  earth  from  beneath 
it.  That  it  presented  a  sloping  surface  instead  of  hang- 
ing perpendicular  was  ow  ing  to  a  great  number  of  timbers, 
the  ends  of  which  projected  from  the  excavated  bank  be- 
hind it.  Serge  had  broken  through  the  moss  curtain,  fallen 
between  these  timbers  to  the  beach,  and  then  cut  his  way 
out.  Now,  as  he  suggested,  what  better  camping- place 
could  they  ask  than  the  warm,  dry,  moss  -  enclosed  space 
from  which  he  had  just  emerged. 

"  I  never  saw  nor  heard  of  anything  so  particularly  and 
aw  fully  jolly  in  all  my  life,"  pronounced  Phil,  after  the 
three  travellers  had  entered  this  unique  cavern,  and  started 
a  lire  by  which  they  were  enabled  to  see  something  of  its 
strange  interior.  "And,  I  say,  Serge,  what  a  thoughtful 
scheme  it  was  on  your  part  to  provide  a  chimney  for  the 
fire  before  you  lighted  it!  See  how  the  smoke  draws  up? 
If  it  wasn't  for  that  hole  in  the  roof  I  am  afraid  we  should 
be  driven  out  of  here  in  short  order.  But,  hello,  old  man  ! 
Whew — w  !  what  are  you  throwing  bones  on  the  tire  for? 
It  reminds  me  of  your  brimstone-aud-feather  experiment 
on  Oouiinak." 

"Bones!"  repeated  Serge  in  surprise.  "Are  those  bones? 
I  thought  they  were  dry  sticks." 

"I  should  say  they  were  bones!"  cried  Phil,  snatching  a 
couple  of  the  offending  objects  from  the  fire.  "And,  sure 
as  I  live,  this  log  I  am  sitting  on  is  a  bone  too.  Why.  it's 
bigger  than  I  am.  It  begins  to  look  as  though  this  place 
were  some  sort  of  a  tomb.  But  there's  plenty  of  wood. 
Let's  throw  on  some  more  and  light  up." 

"Toughest  wood  to  cut  I  ever  see,"  growled  Jalap 
Coombs,  who]was  hacking  away  at  another  half-buried  log. 
"'Pears  to  he  brittle,  though,  and  splits  easy,"  he  added, 
dodging  a  sliver  that  broke  off  and  flew  by  his  head. 

"Hold  on  !"  cried  Phil,  picking  up  the  sliver.  "You'll 
ruin  the  axe.  That's  another  bone  you're  chopping.  This 
place  is  a  regular  giants'  cemetery." 

CHAPTER     XXVI. 
CAMPING   '.MID   PREHISTORIC  BOXES. 

So  strange  and  uncanny  was  the  place  in  which  our 
sledge  party  thus  unexpectedly  found  themselves,  that  Phil 
was  for  exploring  it,  and  attempting  to  determine  its  true 
character  at  once;  but  practical  Serge  persuaded  him  to 
wait  until  they  had  performed  their  regular  evening  duties, 
and  eaten  supper.  "  After  that,''  he  said,  "  we  can  explore 
all  night  if  we  choose." 

So  Phil  turned  his  attention  to  the  dogs,  which  he  un- 
harnessed and  fed,  while  Serge  prepared  supper,  and  Jalap 
Coombs  gathered  a  supply  of  firewood  from  the  bleached 
timber  ends  projecting  from  the  bank  behind  them.  He 
tested  each  of  these  before  cutting  into  it  to  make  certain 
that  it  was  not  a  bone,  quantities  of  which  were  mingled 
with  the  timber. 

The  firewood  that  he  thus  collected  exhibited  several 
puzzling  peculiarities.  To  begin  with,  it  was  so  very  tough 
and  thoroughly  lifeless  that,  as  Jalap  Coombs  remarked,  he 
didn't  know  hut  what  bones  would  cut  just  as  easy.  When 
laid  on  the  fire  it  was  slow  to  ignite,  and  finally  only  smonl- 


554 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


dered,  giving  out  little  light,  hut  yielding  a  great  heat. 
As  Serge  said,  it  made  one  of  the  poorest  fires  to  see  Ijy  and 
one  of  the  best  to  cook  over  that  he  had  ever  known. 

Although  in  all  their  experience  they  had  never  enjoyed 
a  more 'comfortable  and  thoroughly  protected  camping- 
place  than  this  one,  the  lack  of  their  usual  cheerful  blaze 
and  their  mysterious  surroundings  rivaled  a  feeling  of  de- 
pression that  caused  them  to  eat  supper  in  unusual  silence. 
At  its  conclusion  Serge  picked  up  a  freshly  cut  bit  of  the 
wood,  and,  holding  it  in  as  good  a  light  as  he  could  get.  ex- 
amined it  closely. 

"I  never  saw  nor  heard  of  any  wood  like  this  in  all 
Alaska,"  he  said  at  length.  ••  Do  you  suppose  this  can  be 
part  of  a  buried  forest  that  grew  thousands  of  years  ago?" 
"I  believe  that's  exactly  what  it  is,"  replied  Phil.  "I 
expect  it  was  some  awfully  prehistoric  forest  that  was 
blown  dowu  by  a  prehistoric  cyclone,  and  got  covered  with 
mud,  somehow,  and  was  just  beginning  to  turn  into  coal 
•when  the  ice  age  set  ill.  Thus  it  has  been  preserved  in 
cold  storage  ever  since.  It  must  have  grown  in  one  of  the 
ages  that  one  always  likes  to  hear  of,  but  hates  to  study 
about,  a  paleozoic  or  Silurian  or  post-tertiary,  or  one  of 
those  times.  At  any  rate  I  expect  it  was  a  tropical  forest, 
for  they  all  were  in  those  days." 

"  Then  like  as  not  these  here  is  elephant's  hones,"  re- 
marked Jalap  Coombs.  ''I  were  jest  thinking  as  how  this 
one  had  a  look  of  ivory  about  it." 

"They  may  be,"  assented  Phil,  dubiously,  "but  they 
must  have  belonged  to  pretty  huge  old  elephants ;  for  I 
don't  believe  Jumbo's  bones  would  look  like  moro  than 
toothpicks  alongside  some  of  these.  It  is  more  likely  that 
they  belonged  to  hairy  mammoths,  or  mastodons,  or  mega- 
theriums, or  plesiosauruses,  or  fellows  like  that." 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  ever  met  up  with  any  of  them,  nor 
yet  heerd  tell  of 'em,"  replied  Jalap  Coombs,  simply,  "on- 
less  what  you've  just  said  is  the  Latin  names  of  rhinoc- 
erosses  or  hopouthomases  or  giraft'ees,  of  which  my  old 
friend  Kite  Robevson  useter  speak  quite  frequent.  He  allus 
said  consarning  'em,  though,  that  they'll  best  be  let  alone, 
for  lions  nor  yet  taggers  warn't  a  sareumstance  to  'em. 
Now  if  these  here  bones  belonged  to  any  sich  critters  as 
them,  he  sartainly  knowed  what  he  were  talking  about, 
and  I  for  one  are  well  pleased  that  they  all  went  dead  afore 
we  hove  in  sight." 

"I  don't  know  hut  what  I  am  too,"  assented  Phil,  "for 
at  close  range  I  expect  it  would  be  safer  to  meet  one  of 
Mr.  Robinson's  taggers.  Still,  I  would  like  to  have,  seen 
them  from  a  safe,  place,  like  the  top  of  Grotou  Monument 
or  behind  the  bars  of  a  bank  vault.  Where  are  von  going, 
Serge  ?" 

"Going  for  some  wood  that  isn't  quite  so  prehistoric  and 
will  blaze,"  answered  the  other  lad,  who  had  picked  up  an 
axe  and  ivas  stepping  toward  the  entrance  to  the  cavern. 

"That's  a  scheme!  Come  on,  Mr.  Coombs.  Let's  help 
him  tackle  that  up-to-date,  log  outside,  and  see  if  we  can't 
get  a  modern  illumination  out  of  it, "suggested  Phil. 

So  they  chopped  vigorously  at  the  ice-bound  drift-log 
that  had  induced  them  to  halt  at  that  point,  and  half  an 
hour  later  the  gloom  of  their  cavern  was  dispelled  by  a 
roaring,  snapping,  up-to-date  blaze.  By  its  cheerful  light 
they  examined  with  intense  interest  the  great  fossil  bones 
that  lay  scattered  about  them. 

"I  should  think  a  whole  herd  of  mammoths  must  have 
perished  at  once,"  said  Phil.  "'Probably  they  were  being 
hunted  by  some  antediluvian  Siwash  and  got  bogged  in  a 
quicksand.  How  I  wish  we  could  see  a  whole  one!  But, 
great  Scott!  Now  we  have  gone  and  done  it !" 

Phil's  final  exclamation  was  caused  by  a  crackling  sound 
overhead.  The  sloping  moss  roof  had  caught  fire  from  the 
leaping  blaze,  and  for  a  moment  the  dismayed  spectators  of 
this  catastrophe  imagined  that  their  snug  camping-place 
was  about  to  be  destroyed.  They  quickly  saw,  however, 
that  the  body  of  the  moss  was  not  hm-ning;  it  was  loo  thor- 
oughly permeated  with  ice  for  that,  and  that  the  fire  was 
only  flashing  over  its  dry  under  surface. 

As  they  watched  these  fitful  flames  running  along  the 
roof  and  illuminating  remote  recesses  of  the  cavern,  all 
three  suddenly  uttered  cries  of  amazement,  and  each  called 


tli.-  attention  of  the  others  to  tlie  most  wonderful  sight  he 
had  ever  seen.  Jirilliantly  lighted  and  distinctly  outlined 
against  the  dark  background  of  a  clay  bank,  that  held  it 
inlaet,  was  a  gigantic  skeleton  complete  in  every  detail, 
even  to  a  huge  tusk  that  curved  outward  from  a  massive 
skull.  For  a  single  minute  they  gazed  in  breathless  awe. 
Then  the  illuminating  flame  died  out.  and  like  a  dissolving 
picture  the  vast  outline  slowly  faded  from  view  and  was 
h'st  in  the  blackness. 

••  \\  as  that  one  of  Vm  ?"  gasped  Jalap  Coombs. 
"I  expect  it  was, "answered  Phil. 

"  Waal,  then,  old  Kite  didn't  make  no  mistake  when  he 
said  a  tagger  warn't  a  sarcumstance." 

"It  must  have  been  all  of  twenty  feet  high," remarked 
Serge,  reflectively. 

For  more  than  an  hour  they  talked  of  the  wonderful 
sight,  and  Phil  told  what  he  could  remember  of  the  gigan- 
tic hairy  mammoth  discovered  frozen  in  a  Siberian  glacier, 
and  so  perfectly  preserved  that  sledge-dogs  were  fed  for 
weeks  on  its  flesh. 

As  they  talked  their  fire  burned  low,  and  the  outside  cold 
creeping  stealthily  into  camp  turned  their  thoughts  to  fur- 
liued  sleeping-bags.  So  they  slept,  and  dreamed  of  pre- 
historic monsters;  while  Musky.  Lnvtnk,  Amook,  and  their 
comrades  restlessly  sniffed  and  gnawed  at  the  ancient  bones 
of  this  strange  encampment,  and  wondered  at  rinding  them 
so  void  of  flavor. 

Glad  as  our  sledge  travellers  would  have  been  to  linger 
for  days  and  fully  explore  the  mysteries  of  that  great  moss- 
hidden  cavern,  they  dared  not  take  the  necessary  time.  It 
was  already  two  weeks  since  they  had  left  the  mining- 
camp,  winter  was  waning,  and  they  must  leave  the  river 
ere  spring  destroyed  its  icy  highway.  So  they  were  oft' 
again  with  the  lirst  gray  light  of  morning,  and  two  days 
later  found  them  at  the  mouth  of  the  Pelly  River,  the  upper 
Yukon's  largest  tributary,  and  two  hundred  and  fifteen 
miles  from  Forty  Mile. 

One  evening  they  spent  in  the  snug  quarters  of -Harper, 
the  Pelly  River  trader,  who  was  the  last  white  man  they 
could  hope  to  meet  before  reaching  the  coast. 

From  the  Pelly  River  trader  our  travellers  gained  much 
valuable  information  concerning  the  routes  they  might  pur- 
sue and  the  difficulties  they  had  yet  to  encounter.  They 
had  indeed  heard  vaguely  of  the  great  canon  of  the  Yukon, 
through  which  the  mad  waters  are  poured  with  such  fury 
that  they  can  never  freeze,  of  the  rocky  Five  Fingers  that 
obstruct  its  channel,  the  Rink  and  White  Horse  rapids,  and 
-;he  turbulent  open  streams  connecting  its  upper  chain  of 
lakes;  but  until  this  time  they  had  given  these  dangers  lit- 
tle thought.  Now  they  became  real,  while  some  of  them, 
according  to  the  trader,  were  impassable  save  by  wcar\  de- 
tours through  dense  forests  and  deep  snows  that  they  fear- 
ed would  delay  them  beyond  the  time  of  the  river's  break- 
ing up. 

"  What,  then,  can  we  do  ?"  asked  Phil. 
"I'll  tell  you,"  replied  the  trader.  "Leave  the  Yukon  at 
this  point;  go  about  fifty  miles  up  the  Pelly,  and  turn  to 
your  right  into  the  Fox.  Ascend  this  to  its  head,  cross  Fox 
Lake,  Indian  Trail  Lake,  Lost  Lake,  and  three  other  small 
lakes.  Then  go  down  a  creek  that  empties  into  the  Little 
Salmon,  and  a  few  miles  down  that,  river  to  the  Yukon.  In 
this  way  you  will  have  avoided  the  Five  Fingers  and  the 
Rink  Rapids,  and  found  good  ice  all  the  way.  After  that 
keep  on  up  the  main  river  till  you  pass  Lake  Le  Barge. 
There  again  leave  the  Yukon,  this  time  for  good  by  the 
first  stream  that  flows  in  on  your  right.  It  is  the  Tahkeena, 
and  will  lead  you  to  the  Chilkat  Pass,  which  is  some  longer, 
but  no  worse  than  the  Chillcoot.  Thus  you  will  avoid  most 
of  the  rough  ice,  the  great  canon,  and  all  the  rapids." 
••  lint  we  shall  surely  get  lost,"  objected  1'liil. 
"Not  if  you  can  hire  Cree  Jim  who  lives  somewhere  up 
on  the  Fox  River  to  go  with  you,  for  he  is  the  best  guide 
in  the  country." 

So  the  next  morning  Phil  and  his  companions  again  set 
forth,  this  time  up  the  Pelly  River,  with  all  their  hopes  for 
safety  and  a  successful  termination  to  their  journey  cen- 
tred upon  the  finding  and  hiring  of  Cree  Jim,  the  guide. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


555 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


FLORA,  QUEEN   OF   SUMMER. 

A  MEDLEY. 

BY  CAROLINE  A.  CREEVEY  AND  MARGARET  E.  SANGSTER. 
CHARACTERS. 

BUSCHK  HOWE,  r,;»;,l>  ni  .,/' i/»  ffinepin  • 
FELICIA  DEFOREST,  tivrctaiy  ,->'//<•  Ninepm  Uub. 

Mi  miters. 
MORNA  ROWLAND,  LITILLE  TAYLOR,  CHRISTABEL   MASON,  SOPHIA 

PRATT,  ANNETTE  SIMPSON,  HELEN  FAIRCHILD,  AGNKS  STOWE. 
ALICE  fROWBttiDGE,  a  classmate,  n"t  a  member  of  the  I, 
WOMAN  ;  <i  M.un;  limns. 

.,.    .    (  four  little  "iris,    ] 
Eight  Blue  Birds  -  fm,,.  littk,  b,,v,. 


Six  Yellow  Birds 


»**«>*« 


(  three  little  girls, 

Six  Red  Birds      "i  thrt.e  little  boys.  J 

SCENE  —A  drawls-room  in  Mrs.  Ames's  private  boarding-school. 
Tlit  Ninepin  Cl'iib  u  holding  one  of  Us  regular  meetings.     Ike 
quest;.,,,  for  ilixnusion  in  A  Summer  Fete.      The  President  is  m 
(lie  chair. 
TIME.  —  The  SQth  of  M.iy. 

I'.l,,,  n-h  (  raps  for  order).  The  Club  will  come  to  order,  ami 
hear  the  minute's  of  the  last  meeting.     The  Secretary  w 
please  rise. 

/;/<>;,,  (rises  and  nwM.  The  Ninepin  Club  met  in  tl 
drawing-  room    for   its    usual    weekly   meeting. 
After  the  minutes  of  the  last  meeting  had  been 
read  and  approved,  there  being  no  business  on 
hand,  and  no  question  to  discuss, 
one  of  the  members  produced  a 
bos  of  cake  and  fruit  just  received 
from  home,  and  the  Club  enjoyed 
a  fine  feast.     The  box   was   the 
more  appreciated,  as  the  members 
had  dined  that  day  off  corned  beef 
and  cabbage,  which  bill  of  fare,it 
\\  as  voted,  should  never  be  allow- 
ed in  the  members'  future  homes. 
It  was  voted  that  thanks  should 
be  sent  to  the  member's  mother 
for  the  box.     Lucille  announced 
that   she   was    expecting   a  box 
soon,  and  would  treat  the  Club  at 
their  next  meeting. 

Blanche.  You    have    heard   the 
report.     As  many  as  approve  will 
say  aye. 
.III.  Aye! 

Illiini-lie.  The-  President  would 
like  to  inquire  if  the  member  who 
was  expecting  the  box  to-day  has 
received  said  box. 

Lucille.  1  am  sorry  to  say,  Miss 
President,  and  members  of  the 
Club,  that  the  box  has  been  unac- 
countably dela.\cd. 

Blanche.  It  may  come  to-day? 

J.  iii-illi  .  It  may.  And  it'  it,  does,  the  members  will  be 
notified  to  attend  a  midnight  INCH  ing  iu  my  room. 

Blanche.  That  is  satisfactory.  The  Club  accepts  with 
thanks  Lucille's  invitation.  Girls,  you  must  put  on  your 
bedroom  slippers,  and  come  in  perfect  silence.  If  any  mem- 
IHT  is  absent,  on  account  of  not  being  able  to  pass  the  sec- 
tion teacher's  open  door,  she  shall  be  commiserated,  and  her 
share  of  cake  and  fruit  shall  be  sent  to  her  next  day.  Is 
there  any  other  business? 

Morna.  I  think  we  ought  to  consider  whether  Alice  shall 
be  asked  to  join  the  Club.  Not  that  I  want  her,  goodness 
knows,  but  yesterday  Miss  Foster  spoke  to  me  about  her. 
She  said  we  didn't  seem  to  associate  with  her  much. 

Annette.  Miss  Foster  spoke  to  me  too.  She  thought 
Alice  was  a  good  girl,  and  only  needed  to  be  brought  out. 

[Several  of  the  girls  speak  at  once,ejccitedlij. 
Helen.  Oh  110,  we  don't  want  her. 

She  would  just  spoil  the  Club. 


.s,V(/ii«.  To  me  she  is  positively  disagreeable. 

/•',  Uda.  She  dresses  so  plainly. 

//,  l,n.  And  does  up  her  hair  horridly. 

<  'hristabel  She  is  scared  out  of  her  wits  if  we  just  speak 
to  her  I  asked  her  the  other  day  where  her  home  was, 
•ind  -he  looked  awfully  funny,  and  didn't  answer  a  word. 

JJoma.  I  don't  exactly  like  her  face.     1  wouldn't  trust 

her. 

s,,i,hia.  That's  it.     I  don't  believe  she  is  sincere. 
lunette.  And  she  hasn't  had  a  box  since  she  came. 

'iHanelie  ( irder!  You  know  Alice  wouldn't  be  a  bit  con- 
genial to  me.  But  we  will  take  a  vote.  Somebody  make 
a  motion. 

Felicia.  I  move  that  Alice  Trowbridge  be  not  admitted 

to  this  Club. 

Helen.  I  second  the  motion. 
Blanche.  All  in  favor  say  aye. 
.•HI.  Aye! 

Blanche.  There,  that  is  settled.  But,  girls,  I  advise  you 
to  pay  a  little  attention  to  Alice  outside  of  the  Club,  just 
so  that  the  teachers  won't  notice.  Miss  Foster  is  awfully 

sharp.  She  pries 
about  a  good  deal 
more  than  there's 
any  call  for  her  to. 
I  shall  ask  Alice  to 
walk  with  me  pretty 
soon. 

Agnes.  Noble,  self- 
sacrificiug         presi- 
dent !     I  will  follow 
your  example. 
Lucille.  I  too. 
Sophia.      Suppose 
we    all    walk    with 
her.    Then  Miss  Fos- 
ter   can't   say    any- 
thing. 

Chriatabel.  I  wish 
Miss  Foster  would 
mind  her  own  busi- 
ness. 

Blanche.    Well,  do 
not  let's  talk  about, 
this         disagreeable 
subject     any     more. 
We  were  to  have  a  paper  on  "  Sum- 
mer."    Is  the  member  prepared  ? 

Morna  (rises  and  reads).  I  must 
beg  pardon  for  having  no  paper 
prepared,  but  I  have  had  so  many 
headaches  lately  I  have  been  warn- 
ed by  Dr.  Louise,  not  to  work  so 
hard.  Instead  of  a  paper,  I  have  a 
proposal.  The  Doctor  says  we  ought 
to  live  out-of-doors  more  than  we 
do.  Let  us  have  a  summer  fete — 
something  that  is  quaint  and  ori- 
ginal. 

Blanche.  It  occurs  to  me  that  we 
ht  have  a  picnic  and  dress  in  peasant  costume. 


SAW    A    FIGURE   HUDDLED    IN    A   CORNER. 


Lucille.  How  would  yon  like  a  mountain  laurel  party  ? 
Aynes.  Oh,  Lucille!  just  the  thing.     Girls,  we  could  ask 
for  a  half-holiday,  and  have  a  Queen,  and  cover  her  with 
lovely  piuk  and  white  blossoms. 

Blanche.  How  many  would  like  a  laurel  party  ?     Raise 
your  hands.  [All  rai.sc  their  hands. 

Suphia.  Let's  appoint  a  committee  to  get  it  up. 
Chrixtabel.  Do  you  suppose  we  could  let  Alice  in  on  that  ? 
Annette.  Oh,  bother  that  tiresome  girl!     No,  we  can't. 
[J  knock  on  the  dour.    AU  hush, and  sit  np  reri/  straight. 
Helen  unlocks  and  opens  the  door.   An  Old  Woman  en- 
ters.    She  stoops^  leans  hearily  on  a  cane,  and  limps. 
>//<  tins  OH  a  long  black  cloak,  and  wears  a  lari/e  poke 
bonnet.      Adjuxtiiii/  i/law*   on  her  nose,  she  scans   the 
club  members,  then  hobbles  up  to  the  President. 
Old  Woman.  Good-afteruoori.   Might  I  sit  down  and  visit 
you  a  few  minutes?     (-Helen places  a  chair.)     Thank  you, 


556 


"HAIL,  FLORA,  Q.UEEN    OP    SUMMER!' 


dearie.  You  see,  it's  hard  for  me  to  stand.  Tin  pretty  lame. 
But  I  can  get  about  very  well.  Oh  yes;  very  well,  consid- 
ering. Yon  don't  know  me,  I  suppose? 

Blanche.  I  think  not.  Perhaps  yon  have  got  into  the 
wrong  place  ? 

Old  Woman.  Isu't  this  the  Niuepin  CUib  ? 

Blanche,  Yes. 

Old  Woman  (chuckling).  It's  the  right  place.  Oh  yes.  it's 
the  right  place.  The  Niuepiu  Club  is  where  I  was  bound 
for. 

Christabel.  A  most  extraordinary  person. 

Old  Woman.  One,  t\vo,  three,  four,  rive,  six,  seven,  eight, 
nine.  Oh,  I  see,  nine  of  you.  That's  why  you  are  the  Nine- 
pin  Club.  Quite  a  coincidence.  (Shakes  her  lieud  grarcln.} 
But  I  thought  there  were  ten  in  your  class.  How  does  it 
happen  that  you're  one  short  ? 

Blanche.  If  you  please,  we  would  like  to  know  what  right 
you  have  to  question  our  Club.  Who  are  you,  please  ? 

Old  Woman.  Certainly,  certainly.  What's  my  name  and 
where's  my  home  ?  My  name  is  Granny  Playfair,  and  I  am 
the  general  Club  regulator.  Whenever  a  Club  is  established, 
I  look  after  it,  d'ye  see  ?  [  The  i/irh  aiijicttr  much  mi/stijied. 

Blanche.  Well, Granny  Playfair? 

Granny.  And  knowing  about  the  Niuepiu  Club,  I  have 
corne  to  regulate  it. 

Blanche.  But  how  did  you  know  about  our  Club?  The 
members  are  pledged  to  secrecy. 

Granny.  How  did  I  know?  Well,  there's  where  I  am 
pledged  to  secrecy.  It's  a  mighty  good  thing  for  Clubs 
that  I  regulate  them,  though.  Little  birds  of  the  air  some- 
times tell  me  things. 

Blanche.  But  are  you  sure  that  our  Club  needs  regulating? 

Granny.  Quite  sure.     Your  Club  is  wrong  all  through. 

Blanche.  I  have  made  a  special  study  ofCiinhing's  Manual, 
aud  we  are  quite  parliamentary. 

Granny.  Well,  I'm  glad  of  that.  (Shakes  her  head.)  Oh, 
bnt  you  do  need  regulating.  Aud  I  shall  do  it.  Never 
fear.  Now  let  me  see,  you  were  talking  about  summer. 
Would  you  like  to  see  how  the  birds  keep  summer?  That 
would  help  yon  a  little. 

Several  of  the  Girl*.  Oh  yes,  indeed. 

Granny  (knockn  on  the  floor.  Door  opens,  and  enter  tteo  little 
children  dressed  in  bine).  Come  in,  my  birds.  Are  all  the 
other  birds  assembled  to  do  my  bidding? 

Blue  Birds:  We  heard  you  call,  yes,  one  and  all, 

And  we  were  sent,  we  t\vo  ; 
So  now,  dear  Lady,  tell  us,  please, 

What  you  would  have  us  do; 
For  every  little  blue  bird  is 

Devoted  quite  to  you. 


Granny.  Then  fly,  and  find  us  the  wood  where  the  laurel 
grows  thickest.  [£jre«H/  birds. 

Helen  (aside).  This  is  au  interesting  Old  Woman,  but  I 
can't  make  her  out. 

Jy licit.  Nor  I,  one  bit. 

(ii-ni/iii/.  Shall  I  tell  you  my  dream, young  ladies? 

(lii-lx.   Oh!  do  tell  us  your  dream. 

Granny.  I  was  passing  through  a  long,  deserted  hall, 
when  I  heard  sounds  as  of  some  one  sobbing.  In  a  side 
room,  whose  door  was  just  ajar,  entering,  I  saw  a  small  fig- 
ure huddled  in  a  corner.  The  room  was  dark,  aud  I  drew 
.a  shutter,  letting  the  light,  in  upon  a  young  girl.  Yes,  she 
was  crying.  I  went  softly  to  her,  and  touched  her  on  the 
shoulder.  "What  ails  you,  dearie  ?"  I  said.  "Oh,  I  am 
not  in  it,"  she  wailed.  I  took  a  seat,  and  drew  the.  poor 
child  to  me,  and  stroked  her  forehead,  and  chafed  her  little 
cold  hands.  "Not  in  what,  sweetheart f"  I  said.  "Not 
in  the  Club, "she  answered.  "They  are  all  in  it  but  me." 
"  But  why  are  you  not  in  it?"  I  said.  And  she  answered. 
"Because  my  dresses  are  sober  aud  old-fashioned.  I  am 
not  bright  aud  witty.  I  am  plain.  I  believe  I  am  dull  in 
my  studies,  because  the  girls  look  at  me  so.  I  am  frightened, 
and  can't  recite  even  when  I  know  the  lesson.  Ob,  I  have 
not  one  friend  in  the  class."  My  little  dear  fell  to  crying 
again,  and  I  had  to  take  her  in  my  arms,  and  kiss  her,  aud 
comfort  her  a  long  time  before  she  could  tell  me  all  of  her 
story.  "  My  mamma  is  dead,"  she  said.  "Those  girls  don't 
know  how  dreadful  it  is  to  lose  their  mammas.  My  uncle 
takes  care  of  me,  aud  he  won't  send  me  boxes  of  sweets, 
because  he  thinks  they  are  hurtful.  And  he  thinks  girls 
ought  to  dress  plainly  aud  inexpensively.  He  has  money 
enough.  I  have  some  money  of  my  own,  which  my  mother 
told  my  uncle  to  take  care  of  for  me  till  I  was  of  age.  If 
only  I  could  make  my  uncle  understand  that  I  can't  bear 
to  be  different  from  the  rest  of  the  girls.  When  the  other 
girls  go  home  in  vacations,  I  stay  here  with  the  house- 
keeper. My  uncle  says  I  ought  to  be  thankful  for  so  good 
a  home.  But  I'm  not  thankful.  Oh,  Granuy,  I  want  my 
mamma!" 


557 


HARPER'S  BOUND  TABLE 


Well  "iris.  \,m  may  believe  mo,  tliis  poor  child's  storj 
touched  me  verj  mnch,  ami  I  thought  how  I  could  hep 
]„.,.  i  asked  her  uncle's  address  an, I  kissed  lier.and  told 
her  thai  Granuj  «onld  be  her  friend, and  we  went  .ml  ..1 

that  lonely  dark  room,  ber  little  lu-art  con -ted.      rben  1 

wrote  to  thai  uucle,and  the  result  was—     But  ben-  conic 

Blanch*  i  '»  ""  »""'''  .'/"•'•"'•  I(  brg-ius  '"  <1:l"  "  ""  ""'  "bat 
Granny's  dream  means. 

Mui-ini.    II'-    Mice,  of  course. 
Uriiinni.   Ilusb! 

|  Enter  isinls.     /'.';<//</  '•/'«•  ''i»'*.  w*  '''•''  6«>'«*>  »«  •"''"'" 
/,,,,/>.      Each,  cai-riei  a  Cluster  or  wreath    »/•   basket  of 

fi'nik  Iniiri'l. 
tlnnnn/.  Go  back,  little  birds,  and  find  Flora,your  Queen. 

[Tlieyrusli  off  and  return  r/i-ni/.'/'''.'/ «  ''"'.'/''  ''''"'''  ''''"/"''' 
in//,  (/'•'•'•»  <•'""'•  ?'/'<l"  ""'.'/  xc<iw]>rrvut  ».'/'"»•  Granny 
Woir'n  it  imi  n-hixtte.  Tin-  ilimr  opens, and  enter  Mice, 
beautifully  <lrrx*e<l  in  «-liii<;  «  m-cntli  of  roses  on  Tier 
In  ml.  ii  xiinill  "-mill  Uuiii-il  ifilli  ii  row  in  hrr  IK/HI/.  Oil 
,-arh  Kill,'  of  her  (t  lilm  I'inl  inilkx.  lleliinil,  in  jiitirx, 
nil  tin  otherx  iinireli.  Tlii/i  ijo  once  iiniHHil  tin1  i-niiiii, 
ami  exmrl  Alice  loiter  Iliroue.  Granny  ri*c*  unit  nnike* 
II  lull-  linir. 
drnnnij.  Hail,  Flora,  Queeu  of  Summer! 

Hail,  Flora,  Queen  of  Summer!  nil  Nature  speaks  your  praises; 

She 'spells  them  in  her  violets,  and  mines  them  with  her  daisies. 

For  you  the  lances  lift  of  countless  gallant  grasses ! 

To  you  all  fragrant  odors  drift,  where'er  your  footstep  passes. 

Come  make  your  subjects  glad,  these  loyal  hearts  that  love  you  ! 
Nor  let  a  single- thought  be  sad,  while  bright  the  skies  above  you. 

(iriiinni.  And  now,  my  birds, have  you  uot  an  offering  for 
your  Queen  1 

\_Thf  hi  nix    tiiiieeli   </».'/'.'/  roil  ml  tlir  room  :    us  tln'i/   IHI*X 

Flora,  ciic/i  *<•/  jitnixex. 
SI H i'  liinlx  : 
This  time  insteail  of  laurel  we  bring  you  violets. 

Yi-llow  liirtls  : 
And  we  have  gathered  roses,  the  flower  for  coronet-. 

/,•<•(/  I  Unix  : 
And   we  the  little  lily  bells   no  loving  heart  forgets. 

Crtiiiiiii.   Vou  see,  dear  Flora,  ho\v  we  all  love-  you. 
Flora.  Thanks. 

For  the  violets  and  the  loses, 

The  laurel   bright  and   rare, 
And  for  the  valley-lilies  sweet, 

And  the  flowers  all  so  fair, 
As  well  as  for  your  loving  words, 
I   thank  you,  Granny;  thank  you,  Birds. 

And  now,  as  I  am  Quern,  I  may  invite  yon  all  to  a  little 
feast.  The  Birds  will  serve  it.  Strawberries  and  cream, 
cake  and  bonbons.  As  mistress  of  the  fete, 1  am  happy  to 
serve  the  lovely  Niiiepin  Club.  Birds,  help  the  girls. 

Ulnnclii:  Girls,  do  eat  these  lovely  things  if  you  can.  As 
for  me',  they  would  choke  me. 

l-'elieiii.   1  eannol  eat  them 

(irinini/.  You  must  nol  refuse,  girls.  Flora  would  be 
hurt. 

Slum-In:  Well.  then.  lint,  first,  as  President  of  the  Club, 
let  me  speak.  I  confess  our  fault.  We  have  been  harsh, 
cold,  and  cruel.  Wo  have  treated  our  classmate  shame- 
fully. I'.ul  believe  me.  (irauuy,  we  did  not  suppose  we 
were  indicting  pain.  We  were  inexcusably  thoughtless. 
For  one,  I  ask  Alice — 

<! runny.  Flora,  your  Queen. 

Blanche.  I  ask  Flora's  forgiveness.  And  I  want  some 
one  in  the  Club  to  make  a  motion  that  Aliee — Flora — be 
asked  to  join  the  Club. 

.lunette.  I  make  that  motion,  and  I  want  to  sav  that  I 
ai;i  ee  with  our  President  in  thinking  we  have  acted  shame- 
fully. Forgive  me,  if  you  can,  Alice — Flora,  I  mean. 

Aifin-x.    I   second   the  motion,  and  1   want    to  >a\    that  I 
never  «as  so  ashamed  of  anything  in  my  life. 
All  in  favor  of  this  motion  say  aye 


.III.  Aye  ' 

Itltnii-ln:  Now  let  us  go  and  ask  tbe  Queen  if  she  will  join 
us  and  foruiM  us. 

l-'lunt  (irlioxi-  rain-  In-nililtx  it  liltli-)  : 

I  have  nothing  to  pardon,  'twas  all   a  mistake. 

And  (lie  sweetest    amends  you  are  willing  to  make; 

Hereafter,  dear  girls,  we'll  be  comrades  and  friends, 

Till,  unclouded,  our  life  at  this   pleasant  school  ends. 

i:i;iiniil.  Kiss  the  Queen, dearies,  and  then  eat  your  cake 
ami  cream.  It  is  Flora's  box.  You  see  now-  the  result  of 
the  dream.  Instead  of  sending  a  box,  the  uncle,  who  is 
really  at  heart  very  kind,  sent  a  liberal  sum  of  money,  and 
Flora  directed  this  feast  to  be  purchased. 

[.Ill  lln  i/irlx  /.'/»»  Flora,  ii'lio  In-iimx  i/>-iiti'J'iilli/  upon  tlii-tn. 

<!i-iiiiin/(i(i  the  birds).  Sit  right  on  the  floor,  you  sweet 
birdies,  and  you  shall  have  a  share  in  the  good  things.  I 
must  go  now'.  Jly  duly  as  grand  regulator  is  done. 

Clirixlnbi-1  (liii/ini/  ilini-ii  lii-i-  iiluli'}.  Uirls,  I  have  my  sus- 
picious about  that  funny  old  woman.  Let's  catch  her,  and 
see  if  she  isn't  somebody  in  disguise. 

[All  tin-  i/irls  run  to  Granny  ici/A  »1ivu1*  and  Inuijhti-r. 
Thru  jnill  i>ll  ""'  ''»'""'',  cnjir.,  «}>ec1aele8,  and  i--loiil: 
Their  Iriirliir,  Miss  Foster,  ntuiul«  remilcil. 

ClirMiibel.  I  knew  it,  I  knew  it.  You  dear!  Yon  dear! 
What  a  lesson  you  have  taught  us  !  I  shall  never  forget  it. 

Alonin.  So  much  better  than  reading  us  a  long  lecture. 

Mix*  Foxier.  But  you  deserved  the  lecture. 

Lncilli:  Yes,  we  did. 

Mi«x  Foxter.  I  hope,  dear  girls,  you  have  learned  tbe  les- 
son once  for  all  your  lifetime.  Let  the  main  business  of 
this  Club  be  to  add  comfort  and  cheer  to  a  sad  heart.  But 
yon  will  have  to  change  the  name  ol'your  Club ;  you  cannot 
be  ninepins  any  more. 


Tlrs  Department  is  conducted  in  the  inlei 
bt>  pleased  tu  answer  nnv  question  on  Ihe 
ftildrKss  Editor  Ciimera  Club  De|.;irtment. 


st  of  An 
,ibj*ct  so 


r  Pliototrrnpliers,  niul  the  Editor  will 
!•   possible     Correspondents  sin  uld 


PAPERS  FOR  BEGINNERS,  NO.  2. 
FOR  THE  DARK   liOOM. 

Til  those  who  have  a  room  specially  devoted  to  photo- 
graphic work  ami  materials   the   only  suggestion    to 
them  will  be'to  adopt  for  their  rules  and  laws: 

I.  A  label  and  place  for  everything,  aud  everything  in  its 
place  with  its  label. 

II.  Keep  everything  clean  and  free  from  dust. 

These  two  directions  for  arranging  aud  caring  for  a  dark 
room  will  save  hours  of  labor,  aud  many  spoiled  plates. 

The  lighting  of  the  dark  room  is  tbe  n'rst  thing  which 
should  engage  our  attention.  If  the  developing  is  done  at 
night,  the  stopping  out  of  actinic  rays  will  be  avoided;  but 
if  in  I  lie  daytime,  care  must  be  taken  to  shut  out  all  direct 
rays  of  light.  If  the  plate  is  kept  in  the  direct  rays  of  the 
led  light,  diffused  light  will  not  harm  the  plate.  By  dif- 
fused light  is  meant  the  stray  gleams  which  come  through 
a  crack,  01  a  door  that  does  not  shut  tight  enough  so  but 
what  light  shows  around  the  edge. 

There  are  many  makes  ol  lantern  of  all  grades  and  prices 
iu  the  market,  and  care  should  be  taken  in  buying  one  that 
it  is  perfectly  light-tight.  An  actinic  ray  from  the  lantern 
striking  the  plate  \villfog  it.  Most  of  the' lanterns  are  made 
for  using  kerosene.  A  lantern  in  which  the  lamp  screws 
into  the  bottom  is  not  as  light-safe  as  one  which  sets  whol- 
ly inside  the  lantern,  though  there  is  less  odor  and  grease 
from  the  keiosene.  The  trouble  with  a  kerosene  lamp  is 
that  the  conlined  air  soon  I.e. dines  heated,  causing  the  oil 
to  lose  ils  density,  a nd  it  ooxes  out,  not  only  making  an  un- 
pleasant smell,  but  greasing  the  lantern.  It  will  be  found 
mnch  more  agreeable  to  remove  the  lantern  and  substitute 


558 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


in  its  place  a  candlestick  and  candle.  The  one  known  as 
the,  camping  or  soldier's  candlestick  is  just  the  thing  tor  a 
dark  lantern.  It  is  a  little  over  two  inches  high,  and  made 
of  brass,  and  costs  only  fifteen  cents. 

Adamantine  candles  are  the  best,  as  they  last  twice  as 
long,  and  do  not  melt  and  run  down  the  sides  like  the  pur- 
ratline  or  tallow  candles. 

One  needs  two  trays  for  developing — one  4x5  and  an- 
other 5x8.  The  smaller  tray  can  be  used  when  one  has 
only  two  or  three  plates  to  develop,  and  both  trays  where 
one  has  quite  a  number.  The  two  trays  are  necessary  also 
in  transferring  the  plate  from  one  solution  to  another,  if  the 
developing  does  not  work  satisfactorily.  The  tray  for  the 
hypo-sulphite  of  soda,  or  fixing  solution  should  be  5x8,  so 
that  two  4x5  plates  can  be  fixed  at  one  time. 

The  di'veloping-trays  should  be  of  hard  rubber  or  cellu- 
loid, and  the  hypo-tray  of  amber  glass,  so  that  there  shall 
be  no  mistaking  the  developing  for  the  hypo  tray. 

A  four-ounce  glass  graduate  is  needed  for  measuring  li- 
quids, and  if  one  has  no  scales,  the  dry  chemicals  should  be 
weighed  in  the  right  proportions  for  nse  when  they  are  pur- 
chased. The  hypo  can  lie  put  up  in  half-pound  packages, 
and  this  quantity  of  fixing  solution  prepared  at  one  time. 

A  glass  funnel  is  needed  for  pouring  solutions  frcni  trays 
into  bottles,  and  also  for  holding  the  filtering-paper  when 
filtering  solutions.  The  funnel  should  be  fluted,  for  the 
ribs  make  passages  for  the  liquid  to  pass  through  the  sides 
of  the  paper,  letting  the  sediment  settle  at  the  bottom  of 
the  paper. 

If  one  has  not  the  advantage  of  running  water  for  fixing 
and  washing  plates  it  is  better  to  have  a  washing  box 
in  which  to  place  the  developed  negatives.  The  regular 
washing  box  is  made  of  zinc,  which  does  not  rust.  The 
inside  rack,  which  holds  a  dozen  plates,  is  adjustable  by 
t  h limb]- screws  for  different-sized  plates.  The  box  has  a 
small  tube  at  one  of  the  lower  corners,  to  which  a  rubber 
hose  is  attached  from  the  faucet,  the  water  is  turned  on, 
and  comes  up  from  the  bottom  of  the  box,  circulates 
between  the  plates,  and  runs  out  through  an  overflow 
spout  at  the  top  of  the  box. 

The  box  containing  the  plates  can  be  transferred  from 
one  pail  or  tub  to  another,  or  set  on  the  floor,  while  the 
water  is  changed,  without  danger  of  breaking  or  scratch- 
ing. A  boy  who  is  handy  with  tools  can  make  a  washing 
box  that  will  answer  every  purpose. 

The  cost  of  the  articles  mentioned  iii  this  article  are  as 
follows:  Candlestick  for  lantern,  15  cents;  a  4  x  5  de- 
veloping-tray,  50  cents;  a  5x8  developing-tray,  72  cents 
(the  price  for  these  trays  is  for  either  rubber  or  celluloid)  ; 
auaber  glass  tray  for  hypo,  35  cents ;  glass  graduate  (4  07.  i, 
••>.">  cents;  fluted  glass  funnel  (4  oz.),  15  cents;  zinc  wash- 
ing-box. $2.25. 


OFF   WITH  THE   MERBOY. 

BY  JOHN  KENDRICK   BANGS. 

C  H  A  P  T  E  K  VI. 
IN    THE     DRAWER. 


IMMIEBOY  clambered  up  the  side 
of  the  bureau  with  some  difficulty 
too,  because  he  was  now  so  small 
that  the  bureau  was  not  so  easy 
to  climb.  In  a  few  minutes,  how- 
ever, he  was  comfortably  fixed  in- 
side the  drawer,  and  the  Wizard, 
taking  the  key  from  the  lock,  fol- 
lowed him.  Once  inside  he  touched 
a  spring  on  the  side  of  the  drawer, 
and  with  a  bang  it  shut  itself. 

"  There  we  are,"  said  the  Wizard,  locking  the  drawer  from 
the  inside.     "  How  do  yon  like  it,  Jimmieboy  I" 

"It's  awfully  dark,"  said  the  little  fellow.     "I  can't  see 
an  inch  in  front  of  my  face." 

"Then  take,  my  hand,"  said  the  Wizard,  "and  I'll  lead 
you  to  where  it  is  light." 


Jimmieboy  did  as  he  was  told,  and  the  two  little  creatures 
groped  their  way  along  in  the  dark  until  the  Wizard  found 
a  small  door.  Turning  the  knob  to  this  he  threw  it  wide 
open,  and  Jimmieboy  looking  through  it  saw  a  beautiful 
garden  in  which  sweetly  perfumed  fountains  were  plash- 
ing merrily,  and  through  which  there  were  scattered  beds 
and  beds  of  the  loveliest  and  withal  the  most  singular- 
looking  flowers  he  had  ever  seen. 

"My!"  he  cried  in  an  ecstasy  of  delight.  "Isn't  this 
magnificent!" 

"Oh,  yes — pretty  good,"  said  Thumbhi.  "I  suppose 
when  one  sees  it  for  the  first  time  it  must  look  like  the 
most  beautiful  place  in  the  world,  but  to  one  whose  prison 
it  has  been  it  isn't  quite  so  beautiful.  You  never  heard 
my  song. 

"  '  I  would  rather  be  free  in  a  dungeon  cell 

Than  a  captive  at  large  in  a  flowered  dell.' 
Did  you  ?" 

"No,"  said  Jimmieboy,  "  I  never  did.     How,  does  it'  go?" 
"This  way,"  replied  the  Wizard,  and   then  he    repeated 
these  lilies : 

" '  I  would  rather  be  free  in  a  dungeon  cell 
Than  a  captive  at  large  in  a  flowered  dell  ; 
I   would  rather  be   free  'neatli  a  load  of  chains 
Than  :i  prisoner  roaming  the  country  lanes. 
I  would  rather  be  free  in  an  ice-bound  cave 
Than  to  sit  on  a  throne  as  another's  slave; 
For  all  the  great  blessings  with   which  man's  blest 
'Tis  freedom,  sweet  freedom  that  I  love  the  best.' " 

"That's  a  pretty  song,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "And  I  think 
maybe  yon  are  right.  I  feel  that  way  myself  sometimes. 
Once  in  a  while  when  I'm  told  I  can't  do  something,  I  feel 
that  way.  I  always  want  to  do  that  thing  more  than 
ever." 

"You  are  just  like  me,  then — though  really  I  didn't  think 
much  about  freedom  and  bow  nice  it  was,  and  what  a 
dreadful  thing  captivity  was,  until  I  had  a  little  chat  one 
night  with  a  song-bird.  She  was  cooped  up  in  a  cage,  and 
sometimes  she  nearly  broke  her  wings  fluttering  up  against 
the  bars  of  it  trying  to  get  out.  As  I  watched  her  I  won- 
dered how  she  could  sing  so  happily  when  she  was  shut 
up  that  way,  and  I  asked  her  about  it.  She  answered  me 
softly, '  It  isn't  I  that  is  happy.  It  is  my  song  that  is  happy 
because  it  is  free.'  And  then  she  sang  this  little  verse  to 
me : 

"  Though  they  shut  me  close  in  these  brazen  bars, 
Though  they  keep  me  a  captive  long, 
Yet  my  notes  will  rise 
Till  they  touch  the  skies. 
No  man  can  imprison  my  song." 

"I've  always  felt  sorry  for  birds  in  cages," said  Jimmie- 
boy, when  the  Wizard  had  spoken.  "And  I've  wondered, 
too,  how  they  could  sing  so  sweetly  when  all  the  day  long 
they  were  locked  up  with  nothing  to  do  but  jump  from  one 
perch  to  another,  or  swing  in  that  little  swing  at  the  top  of 
the  cage." 

"  Well,  there's  one  thing  that's  nice  about  their  lives," 
said  the  Wizard.  "They  don't  have  anybody  to  quarrel 
with.  I  think  that's  very  fine." 

"That's  true,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "And  then,  too,  when 
one  bird  wants  to  swing  there  isn't  any  other  little  bird 
that  he  has  to  give  up  to;  but  I'd  rather  be  free,  and  take 
my  chances  of  getting  the  swing,  wouldn't  you?" 

"  Rather !"  ejaculated  the  Wizard.  "  But,  my  dear  fellow, 
•we  are  wasting  time.  The  Merboy  will  be  back  in  a  few 
minutes,  and  if  you  want  to  see  all  the  wonders  of  this 
place  we  must  hurry.  Come.  Let's  go  out  into  the  gar- 
den." 

The  queer  little  fellow  leading  the  way,  the  two  new 
friends  went  out  of  the  drawer.  As  they  sauntered  along, 
Thumbhi  reached  out  his  hands  and  plucked  two  pretty 
flowers  from  a  bush  at  the  side  of  the  path,  and  putting 
one  of  them  in  his  mouth  handed  the  other  to  Jimmieboy. 

"You  must  be  hungry  by  this  time,"  he  said.  "Eat 
that," 

"Flowers  aren't  good  to  eat,  are  they  ?"  asked  Jiunuie- 
boy. 


559 


HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE 


JIMMIEBOY  STARTED  IN  PURSUIT. 


"  Cauliflowers  and  the  flowers  of  this  garden  are.  That 
is  nothing  but  a  biscuit-bush  I  plucked  those  from.  Didn't 
you  ever  see  a  biscuit-bush  ?" 

"  Never,"  suid  Jimmieboy ;  "  though  I  should  thiuk  they'd 
be  very  nice." 

"They  are,"  said  the  Wizard. 

"  How  do  you  make  them  grow  ?"  asked  Jimmieboy  in 
surprise. 

"Simple  enough," said  Thmnhhi.  "Take  the  Buckwheat- 
cake  bus]],  for  instance.  Buckwheat  cakes  are  nothing  more 
than  cooked  buckwheat,  so  instead  of  planting  the  seeds 
raw  we  plant  them  cooked,  and  when  they  grow  up  and 
sprout,  instead  of  putting  forth  raw  buckwheat  out  come 
the  cakes.  Try  one." 

Jimmieboy  needed  no  second  bidding, for  as  the  Wizard 
spoke  he  had  reached  over  to  the  buckwheat-cake  bed,  and 
plurkcd  a  half-dozen  hot,  steaming  cakes. 

'•  My  !"  ejaculated  Jimmieboy,  as  he  swallowed  the  first 
one,  somewhat  greedily,  perhaps,  for  he  was  very  hungry. 
"  My !  How  sweet  they  are." 

"Aren't  they!"  said  the  Wizard.  "And' why  shouldn't 
they  be?  We  water  the  Buckwheat  -  cake  bushes  with 
maple  syrup." 

The  idea  was  so  overpoweringly  lovely  that  Jimmieboy 
could  not  find  words  to  express  his  delight  over  it.  He 
simply  let  his  eyes  open  a  little  wider, but  the  twinkle  in 
them  showed  the  Wizard  ho\v  he  felt. 

••  Now  here,"  said  the  Wizard,  tapping  a  little  door  in  a 
curious-looking  summer-house — "  here  is  where  we  keep 
our  tnuls.  They  are  the  funniest  tools  yon  ever  saw  in  your 
life.  They  do  all  their  own  work.  I'll  introduce  you  to 
some  of  them.  Mr.  Huke  !" 

"  Well  ?"  came  a  voice  from  within.  "  Well,  what's  want- 
ed f  If  you  are  the  gravel  path  you  might  as  well  trot 
away.  I  can't  smooth  you  off  to-day,  and  if  you  are  the 
weed  path,  I've  asked  Mr.  Hoe  to  attend  to  yon.  I'm  hav- 
ing trouble  with  my  teeth." 

•'  It's  I — Thnmbhi,"  said  the  Wizard. 

"  Oh,"  came  the  answer.     "  Why  didn't  you  say  so." 

Here  the  door  was  opened,  and  the  Rake  hopped  out. 

"  Good-morning,"  he  said.  "  I  didn't  know  it  was  you  or 
I  wouldn't  have  kept  you  waiting.  Who  is  your  young 
friend  ?" 

"Jimmieboy," returned  the  Wizard.  "This  is  his  first 
visit,  and  I  didn't  know  but  what  you'd  show  him  how  you 
do  your  work." 

"  I'd  be  very  glad  to,"  said  the  Rake,  "  but  it's  impossible 
this  morning.  I  spent  all  day  yesterday  raking  the  candy 


field,  and  it  has  made  my  teeth  ache  like 
seventy-two — which  is  twelve  more  than 
like  sixty;  but  if  he's  fond  of  jokes  I  can 
give  him  a  few.  Why  is  a — 

"Well,  really,"  said  the  Wizard,  who 
knew  the  Rake's  jokes  were  very  bad, 
and  who  was  therefore  anxious  to  spare 
Jimmieboy  the  trouble  of  hearing  them, 
"  we  don't  like  to  bother  you.  We'll  run 
along — 

"No  bother,  I  assure  yon,"  said  the 
Rake.  "I  know  it  by  heart.  Why  is  a 
trolley-car  like  a  grindstone  without  any 
handle?" 

"  I  couldn't  possibly  guess,"  said  Jim- 
mieboy, with  a  grin. 

"They  don't  either  of  them  smoke  ci- 
garettes, of  course,"  said  the  Rake.  "  I 
should  thiuk  anybody  could  have  told 
that.  Now,  can  you  tell  me  why  a — 

"  Thumbhi !"  came  a  voice  in  the  dis- 
tance. 

"  Excuse  me  for  a  minute,"  said  Thumb- 
In.  "I  thiuk  I  hear  somebody  calling 
me."  and  he  was  off. 

"You'd  better  follow  him,  Jimmieboy," 
said  the  Rake,  kindly.  "Don't  lose  sight 
of  him  for  an  instant.  This  is  his  way  of 
getting  rid  of  you.  He  brought  you  in 
here  to  tell  you  his  history, didn't  he?" 
"Yes, "said  Jimmieboy. 

"Well, he  hasn't  got  one,"  whispered  the  Rake.  "He 
hasn't  got  one,  and  he  never  had  one,  and  this  having  him- 
self called  away  is  only  one  of  his  tricks.  Keep  your  eye 
on  him  or  you're  lost." 

With  this  the  Rake  slammed  the  door  of  the  tool-house, 
and  Jimmieboy  turning  about  peered  down  the  path  at  the 
Wizard,  who  was  running  as  fast  as  his  legs  could  carry 
him.  Jimmieboy  started  in  pursuit — and  what  a  pursuit 
it  was  !  Like  the  wind  they  ran,  mile  after  mile  round  and 
round  the  garden,  through  forests  that  turned  up  on  the 
road  here  and  there,  and  once  in  awhile  with  great  bounds 
jumping  over  rivers  and  mountains,  until  finally  Thumbhi 
turned  suddenly,  ran  backwards  directly  past  Jimmieboy, 
and  before  the  little  visitor  had  time  to  turn  around  was 
lost  to  sight. 

Jimmieboy  was  now  quite  lost.  He  had  no  idea  as  to  his 
whereabouts.  The  garden  had  long  since  disappeared,  and 
so  fast  had  he  run  the  boy  had  failed  to  notice  in  what  di- 
rection he  had  come. 

"Humph  !"  he  said, seating  himself  by  the  road  to  catch 
his  breath.  "Here's  a  muddle.  I  wonder  where  the  Mer- 
boy  is?" 

"Here  I  am,"  came  a  subdued  little  voice  that  sounded 
miles  away.  "Take  the  first  door  to  your  right,  open  it, 
and  you'll  find  me." 

Jimmieboy  started  up  and  walked,  it  seemed  to  him,  for 
hours,  but  no  door  appeared  anywhere  until, just  as  the  snu 
was  setting,  he  came  to  a  big  oak-tree  with  a  little  bit  of  a 
door  half-way  up  its  trunk. 

"I  wonder  if  that's  it?"  said  the  puzzled  boy,  scratching 
his  head. 

"Yes,"  came  the  voice  from  the  inside.  "Climb  up  and 
come  in." 

"  I  can't  climb  'way  up  there,"  said  Jimmieboy. 
"Then  we'll  let  the  door  down,"  returned  the  voice  be- 
hind the  door.  Sure  enough  down  came  the  door.  Jimmie- 
boy opened  it  and  walked  in,  and  there  was  the  Merboy, 
only  he  had  become  a  goldfish  in  the  aquarium  in  the  nur- 
sery again,  and  was  swimming  around  as  unconcernedly  as 
if  nothing  had  ever  happened. 

"Wasn't  it  queer?"  said  Jimmieboy,  as  he  told  the  story 
to  his  father. 

"Very," said  his  father,  "but  queer  things  often  happen 
to  boys  who  eat  as  much  fruit  cake  as  yon  do." 

Which  was  the  only  explanation  of  his  strange  adventure 
that  Jimmieboy  ever  got. 


THE   END. 


500 


ilNTERSCHOKASTICl 

SPORTt 


ALTHOUGH  THE  IXTER-CITY  GAMES  at  the  Berkeley 
Oval,  a  week  ago  Saturday,  were  at  no  time  exciting, 
because  of  the  marked  difference  in  strength  of  the  con- 
testiug  teams,  yet  in  many  instances  the  contests  were  ex- 
ceedingly interesting,  and,  take  it  all  in  all,  the  occasion 
•was  worthy  of  a  greater  display  of  public  interest  than  it 
received.  I  was  surprised  at  the  small  size  of  the  audi- 
ence present.  I  had  expected  to  see  twice  as  many  spec- 
tators as  there  were  at  the  Oval  on  the  previous  Saturday, 
and  no  doubt  there  would  have  been  if  the  games  had 
been  properly  advertised.  As  far  as  I  know  not  a  daily 
newspaper  of  this  city  announced,  on  that  morning,  that 
there  would  he  iuterscholastic  games  at  the  Oval  that  af- 
ternoon. This  is  not  the  fault  of  the  newspapers;  it  is  the 
fault  of  the  managers  of  the  luter-City  games,  who  should 
Lave  made  it  their  duty  to  see  that  the  occasion  was  duly 
advertised  and  heralded.  These  same  managers  were  so 
anxious  to  fill  their  coffers  as  to  make  all  contestants  pay 
an  entrance-fee  into  the  grounds,  like  ordinary  spectators. 
If  they  had  spent  a  few  dollars  in  reading  notices  in  the 
daily  papers,  and  a  few  cents  in  postage  on  polite  notes  to 
the  various  G'ity  Editors,  they  would  have  doubled  the  num- 
ber of  spectators  present,  and  the  contestants  could  have 
been  admitted  free — as  they  should  have  been  in  any  case. 
I  hope  my  words  on  this  subject  will  not  be  taken  as  a 
complaint  or  as  fault-finding,  for  they  are  not  so  intended. 
Contestants  in  track  games,  as  in  other  sports,  can  do  better 
if  encouraged  by  a  crowd,  and  so  I  think,  in  justice  to 
them,  no  reasonable  efforts  should  be  spared  to  attract  a 
large  audience. 

OTHERWISE  THE  GAMES  were  pretty  well  managed.  The 
events  might  have  been  run  off  a  little  faster,  but  as  it  was 
they  did  not  drag,  and  by  five  o'clock  the  programme  was 
at  an  end.  The  advantage  of  having  few  entries  was 
clearly  demonstrated,  and  a  tiresome  succession  of  trial 
heats  was  avoided.  How  much  better  it  would  be  if  the  In- 
terscholastics  could  be  conducted  on  some  such  plan  next 
year.  The  programme  was  a  compromise,  and  a  very  good 
compromise  at  that.  The  mile  walk  and  the  Junior  220 
\vere  omitted,  and  the  bicycle  race  was  made  two  miles  in- 
stead of  one  mile.  The  latter  change  was  commendable, 
because  the  inter-collegiate  event  is  two  miles,  and  so  it  is 
in  almost  all  of  the  other  iuterscholastic  programmes  of  the 
country.  The  long  distance  makes  a  better  race,  and  the 
fact  that  New-Yorkers  wou  every  place  in  the  event  proves 


POLE    VAULT    AT    THE    I.-C.  GAMES. 
Simpson  clearing  tlie  bar  al  10  feet. 

pretty  conclusively  that  the  N.Y.I. S.A.A.  riders  can  cover 
that  distance  as  well  as  they  have  been  doing  the  mile. 

Tnio  LONG-ISLANDERS  started  ont  with  a  spurt,  and  earned 
22  of  their  33  points  in  the  first  four  numhrrs  on  the  card. 

Stevens,  the  B.  L.  S.  sprinter, 
was  responsible  for  10  of 
these,  and  he  showed  him- 
self a  strong  runner.  He  is 
tall  and  slim,  somewhat  re- 
sembling Sheirill  in  his 
build,  and  will  no  doubt 
cc[iial  Sberrill's  and  the  oth- 
er champions'  time  before 
he  retires  from  the  track.  He 
ran  a  dead  heat  with  Hall  in 
the  first  100,  doing  lOf,  and 
on  the  run  off  he  was  victo- 
rious by  about  a  foot  in  HiJ. 
Hall  is  not  strong  after  his 
first  dash,  and  seldom  does 
himself  justice  in  the  finals. 
I  believe  that  if  he  would 
train  hard,  however,  lie  could 
get  staying  power  that 
would  enable  him  to  do  as 
well  in  the  third  heat  as  he 


FINISH   IN    FINAL    HEAT    LOW    HURDLES   OF   THE   L-C.  GAMES. 

561 


now  does  at    his   first  trial. 


HAEPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


RECORD   OF    THE    INTER-CITY    GAMES,   BERKELEY    OViL,  MAY    18,  1895. 


Event. 

Winner 
t       (Five  Points). 

Performance. 

Second 
(Tliree  Points). 

Third 
(One  Point). 

Points. 

Points  made  by 

SchooH.     ' 

N.Y. 

L.I. 

I'M  

Stevens,  /•'.  L.  S. 
Itoliinxim,  .sv.  Paul's 
,XY,-IV;IS,  /;.  L.  S. 
,1,  well,  Adelphi 

\In  li;ili,  *  'nlldon 

McCord,  Dwight 
Vuiii  Banr,  Barnard 
Svme,  Barnard 
Powell,  Cutler 
Baltazzi,  Harvard 
Cowperthwaite,  Col.  Gram. 
Simpson,  Barnard 
Ayers,  Condon 
Ayers,  Condon 

10  4-5  sec. 

11  2-5    " 
224-5   " 
r.4  1-5  " 
2  m.   9 
4   "   584-5   " 
154-5   " 

273-s  " 

5   "   32  2-5   " 

5  ft.   10  1-4  in. 
20  "      S  1-2  " 
HI  •• 
123  "    11  1-4  " 
40  " 

Hall,  Yale 
Wilson,  Barnard 
Wfisllburne,  Barnard 
Draper,  Cutler 
Eollinnworth,  Pol;/.  Prep. 
Moscnthal,  Saclia 
Beers,  1>.  L.  s. 
Harris,  Cutler 
Mortmer,  Blake 
Wenmnn,  Drisler 
Jewell,  Adi'lplii 
Pauldin^',  Drisler 
Ballerman,  Harvard 
Bigelow,  W.  &  K. 

Stei-ensnn,  Poll/.  Prep. 
Armsti-ad,  Berkeley 

Underbill,  Po/il.  Prf/i. 
Fishrr,  Harvard 
Van  Ordfn,Pu/i/.Prep. 
Homer,  Adeljihi 
Mocnin,  Berkeley, 
Pell,  Cutler 
Gillespie,  Col.  (Tram. 
Gunnison,  Adelphi 
Powell,  Cutler 
Hurlhurt,  Berkeley 
Fairbank,  St.  Paul 
Mason,  Poly.  Prep. 

3 

4 
3 
4 
5 
8 
9 
9 
9 
8 
6 
9 
8 
8 

93 

6 
5 
6 

5 
4 

1 
0 
0 
0 

1 

3 
0 

1 
1 

33 

Barnard  ..  21 
Condon  .  .    15 
Cutler  13 
Adel/.hi  ..10 

/;.  L.  n  —  10 

Harvard..     9 
P:,  I  n.  Prep.     1 
St.  Paul's.    6 
Col.  Gram.     6 
Drislt-r  ...     6 
Dwi.'ht    ..      5 
B.-rkulfV  .     3 
Yale  3 
Snclis  3 
D.  L.  S.  .  .  .     3 
W.  £K...     3 
BlaUe  3 

126 

100-yard  dasli,  for  Juniors  . 

I4il-v.ini  run  
Ilalfmile  run  
Mill-  mil  
I-JH-\  ;li,i  hurdle  
hurdle  

T\\  ii-milc  bicyrlc  
KunniuK  hiu'li  jump  
KuiiiiiiiL'  broad  jump  
Pole  vault  
Throwing  12-pound  bummer 
Pulling  12-pound  suol  

Whether  under  any  circumstauces  he  could  defeat  Stevens 
is  a  question,  for  the  Long-Islander  showed  bis  mettle  by 
following  up  his  lirst  bard  victory,  and  winning  tin-  '-'-'IP  in 
tbe  record  time  of  22£  seconds.  He  could  have  done  even 
better  if  he  had  known,  he  was  so  close  to  these  figures. 

FISHER,  OF  HAUVARD  SCHOOL,  who  holds  the  scholastic 
record  of  52|  sec.  in  the  440,  was  counted  on  by  the  New- 
Yorkers  to  take  that  event.  Fisher  has  been  training  for 
it  all  spring,  but  since  his  injury  last  year  he  has  uot  been 
nlilr  to  get  into  very  fit  condition.  He  started  otf  at  a 
rapid  gait  and  held  tbe  lead  for  about  300  yards,  when  bis 
wind  gave  out,  and  Jewell,  who  did  so  much  for  Adelphi, 
in  Brooklyn,  tbe  previous  week,  passed  him  easily,'  and 
came  in  an  easy  wiuner,  with  Fisher  a  weary  third.  His 
time,  ..">4J,  was  If  seconds  better  than  his  winning  time  at 
tbe  L.I.I. S.A.A.  games.  Meebau  again  had  an  easy  vic- 
tory in  the  half-mile,  running  as  strong  and  pretty  a  rare, 
as  he  did  the  week  before.  In  the  mile,  Tappen  did  not 
appear,  having  gone  out  of  training,  but  McCord,  who  ran 
third  iu  tbe  N.Y.  Intel-scholastics,  came  to  tbe  scratch  and 
won  iu  4  m.  58f  sec.  He  is  a  promising  athlete,  and  this 
performance  is  especially  creditable, as  it  is  only  his  second 
race.  Moserithal,  who  beat  him  home  the  week  before,  ran 
second. 

THE  HIGH  HURDLES  were  run  iu  three  pretty  heats. 
Beers  came  home  ahead  in  the  first  in  161  sec.,  wiih  a 
couple  of  Brooklyn  men  upsetting  the  hurdles  behind  him, 
and  Voni  Baur  took  the  second  heat  in  .16|.  Then  tame  a 
neck-and-ueck  race  between  these  two.  Beers,  who  wou 
the  Intel-scholastics,  ran  well,  and  both  men  leaped  together 
all  the  way.  But  Vom  Baur  was  a  little  stronger  at  the 
finish,  and  left  his  opponent  only  a  few  inches  behind  him. 
It  was  an  exciting  race,  and  an  exceedingly  close  finish. 
Syme  won  tbe  final  of  the  low  hurdles  easily,  after  coming 
in  In-hind  Harris  in  bis  heat,  and  Brooklyn  was  closed  out, 
of  any  points  in  the  event  by  Harris  and  Pell.  I'oudl 
took  tbe  lead  in  the  bicycle,  and  made  creditable  time, 5  m. 
32?  sec.  This  was  doubtless  due  to  the  pacing  of  Ehricb, 
which  was  permitted  by  the  mutual  consent  of  the  Inter- 
scholastic  Committees. 

THE  FIELD  EVENTS  were  more  interesting  than  the  track 
events,  especially  the  hammer,  in  which  tbe  record  was 
broken  by  two  men.  Batter-man  threw  lirst,  and  lauded  at 
123  ft.  J  iu.  Tbe  record  is  117  ft.  4*  in.,  made  by  Irwin-Mar- 
tin  at  the  Intel-scholastics  on  May  llth.  Irwin-Martin  did 
not  appear  at  the  Inter-City  games.  Having  made  so  good 
a  throw,  Batterman  felt  confident  of  victory.  Inn  \\p- 
stepped  up  and  threw  ]•_':!  I'l.  11}  in.  Neither  mark  was 
bettered  after  these  two  performances.  Halla/xi  kept  up 
to  his  mark  in  the  high  jump,  and  cleared  5  ft.  10J  in. 
Then  he  had  the  bar  put  u|>  to  i!  It.,  and  tried  fur  a  record. 
1 1,  nearly  did  it,  touching  only  with  his  ankle-bone,  ami  lie 
did  not  try  again.  My  assumption  that,  Baltazzi  would 
represi-nl  the  X.Y.A.C.in  the  International  games  in  Sep- 
tember has  proved  correct.  Captain  Baxter  lias  a-kcd  him 


to  become  a  member  of  the  N.Y.A.C.  team.  Cowperthwaite 
jumped  half  an  inch  further  than  he  did  at  the  Interscho- 
lastics,  but  came  near  being  defeated  by  Jewell,  who  cleared 
20  ft.  10  in.,  then  lost  his  balance  and  fell  back.  Jewell  is 
one  of  the  best  all-round  men  in  the  schools.  Simpson's 
work  in  the  pole  vault,  was  of  the  first  order,  his  best  jump, 
10  ft.,  coming  within  §  of  an  inch  of  the  interscholastic 
re-cord  established  by  him  the  year  before.  The  accom- 
panying table  will  show  the  day's  record.  The  names  of 
the  Long  Island  representatives  and  schools  are  italici:i'd 
for  convenience  of  reference. 

NEXT  SATURDAY  the  schools  of  the  Pennsylvania  Inter- 
academic  League  will  meet  on  Franklin  Field,  Philadel- 
phia, to  decide  the  championship  of  tbe  association  iu 
track  athletics.  I  expect  to  see  Jones  of  Peim  Charter, 
who  did  .10f  iu  the  100,  last  year,  take  the  event  again 
this  spring,  with  Hunsberger,  his  schoolmate,  second.  Un- 
less some  new  mau  develops,  Branson  of  Peun  Charter  and 
Remington  of  De  Laucey  will  fight  it  out  between  them 
for  first  in  the  high  hurdles.  Jones  should  be  heard  from 
again  in  the  220,  and  McCarty  of  Germautown  will  proba- 
bly take  the  quarter.  Tbackara  will  push  him.  Thackara 
will  also  have  a  close  contest  with  Hedges  in  the  half-mile, 
as  both  are  good  men, and  Thorpe  of  Penu  Charter  will 
see  that  they  make  their  best  time.  Branson  has  a  record 
of  5  feet  in  the  high  jump,  and  it  is  doubtful  if  any  one  else 
in  the  I.  A.  A.  L.  can  better  it.  The  pole  vault  is  uncertain, 
but  Beasley  of  Germantowu  has  cleared  nearly  8  feet. 
The  running  broad  will  probably  go  to  Remington,  whose 
record  is  18  feet  5J  inches,  but  it  will  be  closely  contested 
by  Hnnsberger  and  Shoenhut.  As  Boyd  of  Cheltenham 
M. A.  will  uot  contest  this  year,  the  hammer  and  shot  are 
uncertainties,  and  will  go  to  new  men. 

Ax  UNUSUALLY  LARGE  number  of  schools  came  into 
the  I.A.B.B.  League  this  year,  and  some  good  games  were 
the  result.  Germautowu  Academy  and  Cheltenham  M.A. 
defeated  all  their  opponents,  and  met  last  Friday  to  decide 
which  school  should  fly  the  championship  banner.  The 
game  was  played  too  late  in  the  week  for  me  to  be  able  to 
notice  it,  in  this  Department, but  I  shall  treat  of  it  next 
time.  The  De  Laucey  School  stands  third  in  the  race,  with 
two  defeats.  Cricket  is  uot  a,  regular  I.A.A.A.  sport;  but  a 
cup,  offered  by  the  Haverford  College  Cricket  Club,  was 
contested  for  last  year,  and  has  been  played  for  again  this 
year  by  a  number  of  the  schools  in  the  league.  In  1894  De 
Laucey  headed  the  list,  with  Germautown,  Penn  Charter, 
Havertovd  Grammar,  and  Kpiscopal  Academy  following  in 
the  order  named.  The  struggle  this  spring  will  be  between 
Pemi  '  ad  He  Laucey,  neither  having  yet  suffered 

defeat.  1'enn  Charter  h.is  two  strong  bowlers  iu  Jones 
and  Brown,  but  in  my  opinion  neither  one  is  quite  up  to 
Graves,  De  Laucey  "s  plucky  little  all-round  cricketer. 

THE  XEXT  THHKK  WEEKS  will  see  some   hard  training 

among  the  athletes  ol'lli,-  New  I'.ngland  schools,  for  all  the 
principal  scholastic  track  meets  in  that  region  come  during 


HARPEE'S   ROUND   TABLE 


the  first  days  of  June.  The  first  important 
meeting  will  be  the  dual  games  between 
Amlover  and  Worcester  Academy,  which 
will  probably  lie  held  in  Worcester,  on  June 
1st.  Then  the  Interscholastic  games  of  the 
New  England  League  come,  at  Cambridge, 
ou  June  15th,  and  they  will  be  preceded  on 
June  8th  by  the  Western  Massachusetts 
I.S.A.A.  games  at  Amherst,  and  by  the  Con- 
necticut I.S.A.A.  games  at  Hartford.  At  the 
latter  we  shall  see  some  records  broken,  for 
Beck  of  Hillhouse  High  is  throwing  the 
hammer  (16  Ibs.)  Ill  feet  in  practice,  and  is 
putting  the  shot  (also  10  Ibs.)  39  feet.  He 
is  sure  to  add  ten  points  to  the  New  Haven 
school's  score. 

Ax  THE  MEETING  of  the  N.E.I.S.A.A.,  held 
in  Boston,  May  2d,  the  legislators  very  wise- 
ly voted  to  keep  meii  over  twenty  years  of 
age  out  of  all  Intel-scholastic  contests.  Cush- 
iug  Academy  and  Phillips  Andover  wanted 
to  change  the  constitution  so  that  yonug 
men  over  twenty  years  of  age,  if  at  school, 
could  participate  in  games  held  under  the 
rules  of  the  N.E.I.S.A.A.  But,  as  1  antici- 
pated, they  found  few  supporters,  and  the 
motion  to  refer  the  question  to  a  committee 
was  promptly  defeated,  and  the  subject 
dropped.  Lynn  High  and  Mechanics'  High 
schools  applied  for  membership  in  the 
League,  aud  were  admitted.  T-he  New  Eng- 
land Association  is  now  the  largest  inter- 
scholastic  organization  in  the  country,  hav- 
ing twenty-eight  schools  in  its  membership. 

THE  DUAL  GAMES  between  rhillips  Au- 
dover  aud  Worcester  academies  will  be  close, 
and  will  furnish  an  exciting  contest.  It 
seems  a  difficult  problem  at  this  early  date 
to  name  the  winner,  for  there  are  so  many 
unknown  quantities  to  consider.  Neverthe- 
less, the  100  will  probably  rest  between  Seuu, 

RECALLED  STORMY  TIMKS. 
"Well,  that  looks  natural,"  said  the  old  soldier, 
looking  at  a  can  of  condensed  milk  on  the  breakfast 
table  in  place  of  ordinary  milk  that  failed  on  account 
of  the  storm.  "It's  the  Gail  Bordeu  Eagle  Brand  we 
nsed  during  the  war." — [Adv.} 


Why  Not 

make  the  baby  fat?  For  the 
thin  baby  is  delicate,  and  is  not 
half  so  cunning. 

Give  the  thin  baby  Scott's 
Emulsion  of  Cod-liver  Oil  with 
Hypophosphites. 

Scott's  Emulsion  is  as  easy  a. 
food  as  milk.  It  is  much  more 
effective  in  making  thin  babies 
fat,  and  they  like  it. 

If  all  the  babies  that  have 
been  made  fat  and  chubby  and 
well  by  Scott's  Emulsion  could 
only  tell  their  story  to  the 
mothers  of  other  sickly  babies! 

There  wouldn't  be  enough  to 
go  round. 

Don't  be  persuaded  to  accept  a  substitute! 
Scott  &  Bowne,  N.  Y.    All  Druggists,     50c.and$l. 


P.  A.,  and  Bryant,  W.  A.,  with  Barker,  P.  A., 
third;  nud  the  winner  should  certainly  cover 
the  distance  in  .104.  The  order  of  the  220 
is  likely  to  be  Gaskell,  P.  A.,  Barker,  W.  A., 
aud  Woodward,  P.  A. ;  but  as  none  of  them 
are  crack  men,  the  time  will  be  slow.  Laiug, 
P.  A.,  and  Fish,  W.  A.,  will  have  a  tussle  for 
supremacy  in  the  quarter,  and  will  make 
good  time.  Laiug  is  the  better  of  the  two, 
and  will  probably  take  the  half-mile,  with 
Gaskell  and  Tyler,  both  P.  A.,  behind  him. 
Richardson,  of  the  same  school,  will  finish 
first  ill  the  mile,  with  Milner,  W.  A.,  a  cln.se 
second,  aud  Lewis,  P.  A.,  behind  him.  Clare 
of  Worcester  ought  to  get  the  high  hurdles 
away  from  lline,  who  is  Andover's  best  man 
over  the  sticks;  but  Hiue  will  undoubtedly 
take  first  iu  the  low  hurdles.  Barker,  W.A., 
will  push  him  hard,  and  Fish  should  come 
in  third.  Lockwood,  W.  A.,  will  have  an  easy 


time  of  it  in  the  walk,  and  it  is  uncertain  if 
Audover  has  any  one  good  enough  to  secure 
better  than  third  place.  The  bicycle  race 
will  also  go  to  Worcester,  with  Grouse,  P.A., 
possibly  in  one  of  the  places.  Holt  of  An- 
dover should  take  the  shot  event,  and  he 
will  earn  second  in  the  hammer ;  while  l-'.d- 
munds,  W.A.,  will  reverse  matters  by  getting 
first  in  the  hammer  and  second  in  the  shot. 
Andover  ought  to  get  third  in  this  last  cvrnt, 
with  Maltliy.  The  broad  jump  is  the  most 
doubtful  of  any  event,  as  neither  school  has 
any  \  cry  good  man  for  that  number  ou  the 
card.  The  high  jump,  however,  will  stay  at 
Worcester  in  all  three  places,  the  probable 
order  being  Johnson  first,  Edmunds  second, 
and  Coelith  third.  Johnson  will  also  win 
the  pole  vault  for  Worcester,  as  he  can  Hear 
in  feet  8  inches.  Lewis,  P. A.,  will  come 
nearest  to  him.  THE  GRADUATE. 


Highest  of  all  in  Leavening  Power. — Latest  U.  S.  Gov't  Report 


Baking 


Powder 


ABSOLUTELY  PURE 


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FANCY    DRES5 
COTTONS 

Printed    Organdies,   Striped    Batistes, 
Printed   Dimities, 

COTTON  CREPES  and  CREPONS, 

White,  Dotted,  and  Figured  Swiss, 
Plain     Colored     and     Fancy     Piques, 

Plisse   Fabrics, 
French  Organdies,  Swiss,  Mulls. 

"  Anderson's  "    Celebrated    Zephyrs. 


CAJ> 


u 

NOTE—  Commencing  June  1st  our  store  will 
cl'«e  at  12  o'clock  Saturdays. 

NEW  YORK. 


BROWNIE   STAMPS. 

More  fun  than  a  barrel  of  monkeys.  A  complete  Bet  of 
these  grotesque  little  people  witb  everlasting  Ink  pads. 
With  them  a  boy  can  make  a  circus  in  a.  minute.  To  intro- 

Bruwnirfi  tioatnniil  for  IOC. 

It.  H.  IngersollA  Bro.65  CortlandtSt.K.T.CHy. 


563 


MONARCH^. 

King  of  all  Bicycles. 


TRADE-MARK. 

Five  Styles.   Weights,  18  to  25  Pounds. 
I'rlces,  $85  and  $1OO. 

MONARCH    CYCLE   CO. 

Factory  and  Main  Office,  Lake  and  Halsted  Sts. ,  Chicago. 

Eastern  Branch  :    79  Reade  St.  &  97  Chambers  St.,  N.Y. 

The  C.  F.  GUYON  Co.,  Ltd.,  Managers. 


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HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE 


BICYCLING 


Copyright,  ISU5,  by  Harper  &  Brothers. 


This  fjepartment  is  conducted  in  the  interest  of  Bicyclers,  and  the 
Editor  will  be  pleased  to  answer  any  question  on  the  subject.  Our 
maps  and  tours  contiiin  much  valuable  data  kindly  supplied  from  the 
official  maps  and  road-books  of  the  League  of  American  Wheelmen. 
Recognizing  the  value  of  the  work  beinff  done  by  the  L.  A.  W  lh>* 
Editor  will  be  pleased  to  fiirjiish  subscribers  with  membership  blank* 
and  information  so  far  as  possible 

rriHE  MAP  THIS  WKEK  is  perhaps  one  of 
J_  tin1  best  in  New  Jersey  which  can  be 
taken  by  a  New-Yorker  without  too  long  a 
journey  before  reaching;  the  starting-point. 
It  not  only  extends  to  Patersou,  which  is  a 
good  eighteen-mile  ride,  and,  with  the  re- 
turn trip,  makes  a  good  half-day  run,  but 
it  extends  to  Pine  Brook,  twenty-nine  miles 
altogether,  which  is  the  first  stage  on  the 
tour  from  New  York  to  Wilkesbarre,  Penn- 
sylvania, and  thence  ou  to  Bnflalo. 

THE  HIDER  SHOULD  TAKE  the  Fourteenth 
Street  ferry  from  New  York  to  Hoboken, 
and  his  first  object  then  is  to  get  to  the 
Boulevard.  The  road  to  the  Boulevard  is 
direct  from  the  ferry,  with  a  sharp  turn  to 
the  right  a  few  minutes  after  leaving  the 
ferry-house,  where  the  railroad  is  crossed, 
and  the  rider  then  comes  into  the  Boule- 
vard. After  a  long  gradual  ascent,  he 
should  take  the  first  prominent  turn  to  the 
left,  leaving  the  Boulevard  on  the  right,  and 
going  northeast  to  the  cemetery,  still  up- 
hill. The  road  circles  this,  and  keeping 
always  to  the  left  the  rider  comes  into  the 
Paterson  Plank  Road,  crosses  several  tracks 
at  Homestead  Station,  with  the  Scheutzeu 
Park  ou  the  right,  then  runs  across  the  salt 
meadows,  and  finally  rides  over  the  Haek- 
eusack  River.  There  is  but  one  fork  before 
he  reaches  the  outskirts  of  Rutherford, which 
is  at  Washington  Grove.  He  should  keep 
to  the  Paterson  Plank  Road,  which  is  the 
turn  to  the  left.  The  road  from  Homestead 
Station  to  the  road -house  at  Washington 
Grove  is  macadamized  and  in  reasonably 
good  condition.  From  the  Washington 
Grove  road-house,  between  Rutherford  and 
Carlstadt,  the  road  is  perfectly  straight  and 
level,  but  is  in  poorer  condition,  and  some- 
what sandy.  As  the  rider  passes  out  of  Carl- 
stadt he  crosses  the  railroad  track,  runs  a 
few  hundred  yards  until  the  road  takes  a 
sharp  curve  to  the  right  northward,  almost 
to  the  Passaic  River.  Here  he  should  turn 
sharply  to  the  left  and  cross  the  Passaic. 
This  is  a  somewhat  difficult  turn,  and  he 
should  be  careful  not  to  keep  on  to  the 
north  towards  Garficld  Post-office.  Cross- 
ing the  river,  he  soon  arrives  at  a  fork, 
where  be  should  turn  to  the  right,  the  left- 
hand  turn  being-Main  Street,  which, though 
the  more  direct,  route  to  Passaic,  is  not  so 
good  a  road.  Tlii.s  fork  is  reached  just  be- 
fore entering  Passaic. 

PASSING  THROUGH  PASSAIC,  the  run  is 
direct  to  the  cemetery  ou  the  Passaic  River 
at  the  outskirts  of  Paterson.  Keep  to  this 
road  until  you  run  into  Market  Street.  At 
the  bridge  turn  sharp  left  and  pass  through 
the  city  of  Paterson  on  Market  Street  to  its. 
end.  Then  turn  to  the  right  up  a  short 

NOTE.— Map  of  New  York  city  asphalted  streets  in 
No.  809.  Mup  of  route  from  New  York  to  Tarrytown 
in  No.  810.  New  York  to  Stamford,  Connecticut,  ill 
No.  Sll.  NI-W  York  to  Stuten  Island  in  No.  812. 


504 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


grade  to  the  bridge  that  crosses  the  Passaic 
ax:) in.  The  rider  should  not  cross  the 
lu-idge,  but  should  turn  sharp  to  the  left 
and  follow  the  car  tracks  through  \\  ''-t 
Patersou  Station  to  Little  Falls.  This 
stretch  of  road  is  iu  tine  condition,  is  mac- 
adamized and  level.  From  Little  Falls  it 
is  a  one-mile  run  to  Singac.  Immediately 
on  leaving  Singac  and  crossing  the  track 
the  rider  comes  to  cross  roads.  He  should 
ki'i-ji  on  tin-  main  road,  skirting  around 
with  the  river  on  the  light,  over  a  hilly 
country,  by  a  hotel,  into  Fairneld;  or  if  he 
chooses,  he  may  turn  to  the  left  just  before 
reach  ing -Fairfield  into  Pier  Lane.  But  if 
he  wishes  to  make  a  stop  in  Fairfi-eld,  he 
must  keep  on  to  the  hotel  in  the  centre  of 
the  town.  This  stretch  of  country  is  a  roll- 
ing macadamized  road  in  reasonably  good 
condition.  From  Fairfield,  or  from  the  junc- 
tion of  the  main  road  and  Pier  Lane,  the 
road-  southward  to  Franklin  Post-office  is 
in  poorer  condition  and  clay,  and  is  much 
more  hilly.  At  the  junction  of  the  roads 
in  Franklin  the  rider  should  inquire  for 
Bloomneld  Avenue,  which  is  the  direct  road 
to  Pine  Brook.  This  is  a  sandy  road,  some- 
what hilly,  and  it  is  necessary  to  take  the 
side  path.  At  Pine  Brook  he  has  made 
about  thirty  miles,  and  may  stop  either  at 
the  hotel  just  oil'  the  Bloomtield  road  about 
a  mile  before  reaching  the  town  or  at  the 
hotel  in  the  centre  of  the  town. 

BY  EXAMINING  THE  MAP  it  will  be  seen 
that  the  same  trip  may  be  made  by  riding 
up  to  I'^oth  Street  iu  New  York,  taking  the 
Fort  Lee  ferry,  and  riding  over  the  direct 
route  from  Fort  Lee  through  Taylorsville 
on  to  Hackensack,  and  thence  over  a  reason- 
ably good  straight  road,  crossing  the  Fassair, 
and  meeting  Market  Street  above  the  ceme- 
tery at  the  point  where  the  Patersou  Plank 
Road  joins  it.  A  good  run  would  be  to  take 
this  latter  road,  to  leave  Market  Street  iu 
Paterson,  and  strike  for  the  fair  bicycle 
road  indicated  on  the  map,  which  runs 
nearly  due  south  through  South  Paterson, 
leaving  on  the  west,  or  right  hand,  Mont- 
clair  Heights, Cedar  Grove, Upper  Montclair, 
and  riding  into  Montclair  through  Wat- 
cluing,  where  tlie-traiii  may  be  taken  for  New 
York.  This  is,  of  course,  a  somewhat  hilly 
road. 


This  Department  is  conducted  in  the  interest  of  stamp  collectors, 
nd  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to  answer  any  question  on  tlie  subject 
0  far  as  possible.  Correspondents  should  address  Editor  Stamp  De- 
partment. 

A8UBSCKIBEH  ASKS  IF  THE  VALUE  of  Unit- 
ed States  postage-stamps  is  likely  to 
increase  in  the  future  iu  a  manner  tn  inalvr 
them  a  safe  investment.  We  can  only  judge 
of  the  future  by  the  past,  and  taUinn  that 
as  a  criterion,  the  United  States  stamps, 
with,  of  course,  the  exception  of  the  com- 
mon low  values,  will  increase  iu  value  in 
the  future  to  a  far  greater  extent  than  they 
ever  have  in  the  past.  There  are  to-day 
many  millions  of  dollars  invested  in  post- 
age-stamps for  collections,  aud  while  the 
question  of  stamps  as  an  iu  vestment  was 


somewhat  doubtful  ten  or  more  years  ago, 
at  present  the  prominent  collectors  have 
less  hesitation  in  investing  in  rare  stamps 
than  in  United  States  bonds.  The  former 
they  know  will  pay  large  interest.  The  re- 
cent great  increase  in  the  price  of  all  old 
United  States  stamps  is  due  to  the  buying 
up  by  collectors  of  all  the  rarities  they  cau 
got,  and  the  trend  of  the  prices  is  always 
upward,  not  down. 

IT  is  REPORTED  THAT  nearly  all  of  the 
Columbian  stamps  on  sale  at  Washington 
have  been  disposed  of,  only  a  few  values 
being  left.  It  is  a  last  opportunity  to  grt 
those  much  prized  stamps  at  face  value,  as 
the  prices  will  rapidly  rise  after  they  are 
sold  out. 

Tin:  EitaiT-CEXT  STAMP  WITH  ornamnits 
in  the  corner  has  been  issued,  thus  complet- 
ing the  set.  The  color  is  darker  than  the 
previous  stamp. 

THE  GRAND-DUKE  ALEXIS  MICHAELIVITCH 
of  Russia,  who  died  in  March,  was  an  ardent 
stamp  collector,  and  although  only  nineteen 
years  of  age,  had  already  done  much  for 
the  pursuit  through  his  writings.  He  had 
planned  many  greater  things  to  do  for  phila- 
tely, but  these  the  stamp  world  will  lose 
through  his  early  death. 

WHEN  THE  NEW  ISSUE  of  Mexico  was 
placed  on  sale,  a  band  of  music  was  engaged 
for  the  occasion,  and  after  the  Postmaster- 
Ci'iieral  had  opened  the  post-office  window, 
the  stamps  were  sold  to  the  strains  of  music. 

E.  C.  TATNAI.I.. — Lithographed  stamps  are  printed 
from  stones,  while  all  the  United  States,  and  majority 
of  other  stamps  are  printed  from  steel  plates'.  In  litho- 
graphic printing  the  line?  are  coarser  and  the  surface 
smooth,  while  steel-plate  printing  shows  fine  lines  and 
perfectly  clean  surface.  The  1S70-2  issue  of  France 
is  lithographed. 


A-DVKRTISEME^TS. 


STAMPS 


Could  I  have  another 


Glass  of  that 

HIRES' 

Rootbeer 

Give  the  children  as  much 
Hires'  Rootbeer  as  they  want. 
Take  as  much  as  you  want,  your- 
self. There's  no  harm  in  it — 
nothing  but  good. 

A  25  cent  package  makes  5  gallons. 

The  Chas.  E.  Hires  Co.,  Philada. 


a    Living     Picture 

of  health  —  because  she  uses  Pond's -Extract 
at  her  toilet,  and  appreciates  the  fact  that  no 
substitute  can  equal  it. 

Avoid  Hiibstltutes;  accept  genuine  only, 
ivltli  buff  wrapper  and  yellow  label. 

POND'S    EXTRACT    CO.,   76    Fifth   Ave..   New   York. 


SELTZER 


Sick  Headache 

AND 

Constipation 


\&?lSF*       are  quickly  and  pleasantly 
cured  by 

Tarrant's  Effervescent  Seltzer  Aperient. 

The  most  valuable  family  remedy  for 

Disordered  Stomach 

and  Impaired  Digestion. 

50  cents  and  $1.00.  All  Druggists. 

TAKKANT  &  Co.,  Chemists,  N.  Y. 


postage  Stamps 


, 


CTAIUIDQ  I  8OO  fine  mixed  Victoria,  Cape  of  G. 
OlMIVIrO  .  H.,  India.  Japan,  etc..  with  fine  Stamp 
Album,  only  I0f.  New  8o-p.  Price-list  free. 
Agents  wanted  at  fiOft  commission.  STANDARD 
STAMP  CO.,  4  Nicholson  Place,  St.  Louis,  Mo.  Old 
U.  S.  and  Confederate  Stamps  bought. 

100 all  dif. Venezuela,  Costa  Rica,  etc.,  only 
lOc. ;  200  all  dif.  Hnyti,  Hawaii, etc. , only  50c. 
Ag'ts  wan  ted  at  50  per  ct.com.  Li *t  FREE! 
€.A.Stegiiiaiin,'27'2'2Eads  Av., St. Louis, Mo. 

var.,  all  dif.,  5c.;  12  var.   Heligoland, 

15c.;  6  var.  I  inly,  185S  to  1S62,  5c.;  3  var. 

iaiiover,  5c. :  35  var.  C.  American,  50c.   Agents  wauled. 
F.  W.  3IILLEK,  90*  Olive  St.,  St.  Louis,  31o. 

all  different,  China,  etc.,  10c.;  5  Saxony,  10c.; 
40  Spain,  40c.;    tf  Tunis,  14c.;    10  U.  S.  Rev- 
enues, luc.  Airt>.  vvtd.,  50S  com.;  '1'5  list  free. 
CRITTENDEN  &  BORGMAN  CO.,  Detroit,  Mich. 

A  rare  stamp  to  all  sending  for  my  approval  sheets 
at  50 'c  com.  Lawrence  Trowbridge,  Palmyra,  N.  Y. 


WONDER  CABINET  FREE.  Miss  inc  Link 
Puzzle.  Peril's  Bottle,  Pocket  Camera.  Latest 
WirePuiile,  Spook  Photos,  Book  of  SMgbtof 
Hand,  Total  Value  60c.  Sent  free  with  immeni>a 
•ataloeueof  1000  BargaioB  for  luc  for  postage. 
:VGERSOLL  &  BRO.,  05  CottlanJt  Street  N.  T. 


100 


FREE 


505 


HAEPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


TRouno  Uable  Cbapters. 

X-,,.  704— The  Will  Carle-ton  chapter,  <'t  Fort 
Ann,  N.  Y.  It  is  a  srh."  .1 1  bapter,  and  the  teachers 
have  been  eleet>-.l  as  honorary  members.  Its  offi- 
cars  are  Julhi  Wright,  president :  Fred  Baker,  vice- 
president  ;  Jerry  Fineh.  secretary  ;  (iertrnde  Holly, 
i  reasurer  ;  Mamie  Kearans,  assistant  treasurer.  Its 
objecl  i^  t<>  form  the  nucleus  of  a  school  library. 
.1. Try  Finclj.Fort  Ann. 

X,;.  705.— The  Arlington  Round  Table  Chapter,  of 
Arlington.  Vermont.  James  S.  Graham.  Box  110. 

Xo.'  706  —The  Summit  City  Athletic  Association, 
of  Aurora,  Mo.  Officers  are  Neil  G.  Garlock,  George 
Nichols,  Guy  Garlock,  Charles  Ruby.  Other  mein- 
li.'i-s  ;ire  Bert  Clark,  Arthur  Spell,  Earl  Baker. 

No.  707.— The  W.J.Henderson  Chapter,  of  Lees- 
tmrjf,  Fla.  Dora  Mitchell.  Annie  Miller,  Aunie  Hal- 
den,  Tessie  Hall ;  George  H.  McKee,  Leesburg. 

X,,.  70S— The  Outing  Athletic  Chapter,  of  Phila- 
delphia, Pa.  Samuel  Luffberry,  William  Ilanl.m; 
n.  iinan  F.  Nauman,  Jun.,8  Jefferson  Street.  All 
Knights  and  Ladies  are  invited  to  join. 

No.  709.— The  Music  Literary  League,  of  Tiffin, 
Ohio.  E.  B.  Naylor,  166  Monroe  Street. 

No.  710.— The  Uncle  Sam  Chapter,  of  Chicago, 
111.  Earle  Morton,  Edward  Burrell,  Melvin  Bar- 
Inn.  Kufus  Dickman,  Fred  Litten ;  Evarts  Graham, 
(',;•.'  \Vest  Monroe  Street. 

No.  711.— The  Sylvia  Chapter,  of  FranUford,  Phil- 
adelphia, Pa.  Will  the  Chapter  please  seud  names 
of  officers? 


Who  Were  Wise  as  the  Wizard. 

Tur  Wizard  gave  us  one  of  the  best  contests  we 
ever  had.  Here  are  the  answers :  1.  Gilles  de  Retz, 
Marquis  de  Laval ;  Henry  the  Eighth.  2.  Laughing 
Water  (heroine  in  Longfellow's  "Hiawatha").  ::. 
Sir  Henry  Percie  01  Percy.  4.  "A  Merry  Interlude," 
by  John  Heywood.  5.  Lilly  the  astronomer.  6. 
Madagascar;  Luna Islaud.  1-  Bacon.  8.  Slug;  Devil- 
fish, '.t.  Swallow.  Swallow- tailed  kite.  10.  Shoe- 
bird.  11.  Aye-aye;  Ai;  Horse,  because  it  "  neighs." 
1'j.  Book-spider  or  book-worm.  13.  Dollar  or  gold- 
fish. 14.  Richard  Steele,  Thackeray's  "Henry  Es- 
mond.'1 15.  Ail  old  shepherd  near  Cleoue,  Greece, 
wlu,  was  kind  to  Hercules,  to  repay  which  the  hero 
destroyed  the  Nemean  lion.  Iti.  Don  Quixote.  IT. 
chirk."  IS.  Aaron  Burr.  19.  General  Gates.  20.  Poe 
(I1. ..  21.  Holmes.  22.  Marcus  Tereutins  Varro.  23. 
An  Irish  secret  society,  organized  in  1S43.  24.  To  be 
burned  as  a  heretic.  25.  Pierre  de  Rolisard.  26. 
Snow  ball.  27.  Scotland.  28.  A  great  churchbell  at 
Lincoln  Cathedral.  29.  Prince  Honssain.  "Arabian 
Nights."  30.  Gustavus  Adolphus.  31.  Earwig;  Hand- 
cuff; Ear-ring.  32.  Smolensk  on  the  Dneiper.  33. 
George  the  Fourth.  34.  Rene  of  Naples,  as.  Ticks. 
36.  Jack  Cade.  31.  Lady  Berkeley.  38.  John  the 
Painter;  Silas  Deane.  39.  John  Walter,  of  the  Lon- 
don Tint's,  Nov.  2S,  1814:  invented  by  Koenig.  40. 
New  Orleans.  41.  Mrs.  Howe,  wife  of  Lord  Howe. 
42.  Edward  Longshaiiks.  43.  Richard  Cromwell. 
44.  Gud  of  Peace  and  Pleasure  among  the  ancient 
Saxons.  45.  The  initial  letters  of  the  twenty -two 
chapters  of  the  Book  of  Revelatinn. 

Questions  that  proved  most  difficult  were  15,  20,  21, 
24,  34,  and  45.  Only  six  found  the  45.  Many  gave  as 
its  answer  the  title-page  of  a  dictionary,  and  enough 
A's  down  the  first  column  to  till  the  number  ;  but  this 
would  not  be  a  fair  question,  because,  as  put  lo  the 
Wizard  and  to  you,  it  did  not  cover  all  of  the  thing 
r.  .nured.  Frisco  could  not  mean  San  Francisco,  be- 
cause in  the  puzzle  there  was  no  apostrophe  showing 
that  part  of  the  word  had  been  cut  off.  One  solver 
aitMwred  correctly  all  save  four  of  the  questions. 
His  name  is  Philip  Castner;  he  is  thirteen,  and  he 
lives  in  Philadelphia.  His  prize  is  $10.  Two  others 
did  almost  as  well,  and  hence  large  second  prizes  are 
given  them.  One  is  Mae  Sterner,  of  Pittsburg,  and 
the  other  Edward  L.  Lyon,  of  Oswego,  N.  Y.  Their 
prizes  are  $4  each.  Third  prizes  of  $1  each  are  given 
to  Edward  L.  Wliarton,  New  Jersey;  Sarah  Hodgson, 
Tennessee;  Albert  Walton,  Illinois;  Raymond  Tilley 
anil  Francis  C.  Pequignot,  Pennsylvania;  and  M.HI:- 
mer  J.  McChesuey,  West  Virginia.  Fourth  prizes, 
half-dollars,  are  sent  to  J.  Benners  King,  Sydney  W. 
Stern,  Elsie  Goddard,  Ruth  W.  Balmer,  J.  Lawrence 
Hyde,  Marion  Miller,  Daniel  Llewellyn,  and  Katie 
Bartholow. 


Ifoano. 

To  the  Whittier  Library  Chapter,  of  Milwaukee, 
Wis.,  belongs  the  high  honor  of  contributing  a 
greater  amount  to  the  School  Fund  than  any  other, 
namely.  §134  25.  Not  only  so.  but  its  contribution 
swells  the  amount  sent  by  Milwaukee  to  such  a 
figure  that  it  enjoys  the  honor  of  having  given 
more  than  any  other  city  in  the  Union.  The  Whit- 
tier  Library  got  its  high  honor  by  holding  a  two- 


day  fair.  Its  receipts  were  $143  24.  and  it  kept  its 
expenses  down  to  below  $20.  as  you  can  see.  Four- 
teen Ladies  accomplished  all  this,  and  their  names 
are:  Mattie  Tomanek,  president;  Luella  Elmer, 
vice-president ;  Margaret  Mitchell,  secretary  ;  Hil- 
degarde  E.  A.  Eituer,  treasurer ;  Lenora  Loew, 
Mary  Kuenzli.Rose  Faber,  Helen  Lorenzen,  Mabel 
Diedrichsen,  Alma  Kuhn,  Delia  Volktman,  Annie 
Voss,  Erna  Lascbe",  and  Emily  Burke.  The  Table 
thanks  them  warmly,  as  it  does  all  who  have 
helped  the  Fund,  as  follows: 

Amount  in  money,  last  report SU65  32 

Amount  in  foundation  materials •      400  °° 

$1565  32 

We  acknowledge  from  Walter  S.  Goff, 
Walter  G.  Sill,  Richard  J.  Drake,  G.  W. 
Hinckley,  Leverett  Belknap,  Junior  Chris- 
tian Endeavor  of  the  First  Congregational 
Church.  Philadelphia,  Ralph  T.  Hopkins, 
Albert  W.  Atwater  (on  account  of  enter- 
tainment), N.  D.  Morey,  D.  G.  White,  Mary 
T.  Porter,  Helen  R.  Ludington.Wade  Hamp- 
ton Chapter,  of  Spartanburg,  S.  C.,  A.  C. 
Banning,  Hubbard  Marsh  2d,  Martha  H.  Ev- 
ans. Allen  H.  Wright,  Kirk  Munroe  Chapter, 
of  Harlan,  N.  J.,  Alonzo  S.  Darragh  (on  ac- 
count of  entertainment),  Loving  Kindness 
Circle,  of  Bangor,  Me.,  Ferdinand  Jelke, 
Whittier  Library  Chapter,  of  Milwaukee, 
Wis.,  Ralph  M.  Stoughton,  Phcebe  and  Har- 
riett Waterman,  L.  S.  Howard,  John  R.  De- 
witt.  George  E.  Riegel,  Rupert  S.  Holland, 
Miss  E.  G.  Bowes,  Robert  Louis  Stevensou 
Chapter,  of  Cincinnati,  Frank  R.  Semon, 
Robert  W.  Palmer,  M.  B.  Lawtou,  and 

Maud  C.  Wiggins 170  11 

$1735  43 

On  interest  for  us,  which  we  are  to  have 
July  1,  if  we  do  well  meanwhile 300  00 

Grand  Total $2035  43 

Amount  the  Table  set  out  to  raise $3000  00 

The  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  Chapter's  gift  came 
from  a  parlor  entertainment,  consisting  of  jokes 
from  comic  papers,  illustrated  by  shadow  panto- 
mimes. The  members  number  five;  Homer  A. 
Wessel,  Jun.,  Hugh  H.  Bates,  M.  L.  Bates,  C.  E.  Hoff- 
man, and  J.  H.  Bates.  Its  contribution  was  the 
neat  sum  of  five  dollars. 

The  Table  is  earning,  not  begging,  this  Fund. 
Won't  you  help  it  to  get  the  balance?  It  is  to 
build  a  school-house  for  some  poor  boys  who  have 
none.  Why  not  raise  something  in  that  garden  of 
yours?  Or  pick  some  strawberries?  Or  contribute 
what  you  earn  one  day? 


A  Fascinating  Walk  in  Rome. 

This  has  been  a  very  rainy  season.  In  February 
it  even  snowed  a  little,  which  is  a  wonderful  thing 
in  Rome.  How  I  should  like  to  see  a  big  snow- 
storm! A  few  days  ago  I  went  to  the  Museo 
Nazionale,  which  is  made  in  a  part  of  the  Baths 
of  Diocletian.  In  the  entranceway  are  at  least 
ten  headless  women,  which  we  call  Bluebeard's 
wives,  although  they  are  not  hung  up  by  their 
hair. 

Further  in  is  a  large  "cortile,"and  in  the  middle 
of  it  there  are  some  cypresses  which  are  said  to 
have  been  planted  by  Michaelangelo.  And  one 
may  almost  believe  it.  because  they  look  old  and 
are  almost  dead.  Near  them  is  a  fountain,  and  all 
around  it  are  immense  animals'  heads  on  pedes- 
tals— an  elephant,  a  rhinoceros,  a  horse,  and  others 
— and  there  are  many  vases  and  statues  around 
the  garden. 

In  a  room  on  the  first  floor  is  a  half  figure  of  a 
vestal  virgjn  who  has  a  noble  expression  on  her 
face.  On  the  second  floor  is  a  large  bronze  statue 
of  a  pugilist  resting.  It  was  found  not  long  ago 
when  they  were  excavating  to  build  the  Theatre 
Nazionale.  It  is  very  powerfully  done,  with  its 
prominent  muscles.  Its  head  is  hideous,  and  he 
has  many  scars  and  a  broken  nose.  In  another 
room  is  a  headless  statue  of  a  y*oung  man  on  one 
knee.  This  statue  is  very  pretty,  and  it  is  a  great 
pity  that  it  has  lost  its  head. 

In  one  room  is  a  lovely  head  of  a  woman  asleep, 
and  lying  on  a  velvet  cushion  it  looks  very  natural, 
although  it  has  lost  most  of  its  nose.  It  has  a  very 

566 


peaceful  expression.  In  one  room  are  some  old 
coins  dug  up  here  not  many  years  ago.  Ages  ago 
they  were  sent  from  England  as  Peter-pence  by 
Alfred  the  Great,  Athelstan,  and  other  kings.  The 
Baths  of  Diocletian  are  now  used  in  many  ways 
very  different  from  those  they  were  meant  for ; 
one  large  vaulted  hall  is  used  to  store  the  wood  ol 
a  carpenter,  another  for  coal,  and  a  large  part  of 
the  building  is  turned  into  a  blind-asylum.  There 
is  also  a  big  church  made  from  part  of  it  planned 
by  Michaelaugelo.  It  is  called  Santa  Maria  degli 
Angeli.  It  is  a  very  handsome  church,  and  Has  sev- 
eral immense  ancient  granite  columns.  Formerly 
they  had  been  shamefully  plastered  over,  but  now 
the  plaster  has  been  scraped  off.  On  the  floor  of 
the  church  is  a  metal  line  on  some  part  of  which 
the  sun  shines  at  meridian,  and  on  each  side  of  it 
are  the  Signs  of  the  Zodiac  set  in  marble  of  many 
colors. 

Near  the  entrance  is  the  tomb  of  Salvator  Rosa 
with  his  bust  over  it.  He  was  a  good  painter,  but 
he  chose  queer  subjects.  I  have  seen  dark  land- 
scapes, a  picture  of  a  witch,  and  a  group  of  three 
horrible  heads  of  fierce-looking  brigands  of  his. 
He  was  a  poet,  too,  and  we  have  a  book  of  his  sat- 
ires. We  have  also  some  pretty  songs  of  his, 
which  prove  that  he  was  a  good  musician.  In 
front  of  these  many  buildings,  which  were  once 
used  for  bathing,  is  a  very  attractive  square  with 
a  lovely  fountain  which  has  a  splendid  flow  of 
water,  and  in  the  evening  it  is  very  beautifully  il- 
luminated by  electricity.  Near  there  is  the  great 
Central  Station  of  Rome. 

ROMS,  ITALY.  MARIA  OJETTI,  R.  T.  L. 


TKllant  Corner. 

A  Newport  member  asks  what  numbers  on  the 
head-light  of  a  locomotive  indicate.  They  are  the 
number  of  the  locomotive  repeated  on  the  head- 
light, in  order  that  it  may  be  seen  at  night.  A  loco- 
motive's number  is  its  identification  on  the  books  of 
the  company  from  other  locomotives.  We  would 
like  to  print  Samuel  D.  McCoy's  exchange  notice, 
but  cannot  do  so.  The  Table  has  no  exchange 
column.  Harry  A.  Light  is  interested  in  flowers, 
and  his  address  is  27  Pine  Street,  New  York.  He 
asks  how  the  United  States  ranks  with  foreign 
powers  in  point  of  military  strength.  The  German 
army,  when  on  a  peace  footing,  has  546.136  men  in 
it;  the  French,  567,464;  the  Italian,  220,685;  the 
Austrian,  334,400;  the  Russian,  1,112,684;  the  Brit- 
ish, 138,410 ;  and  the  United  States,  27,957.  Great 
Britain  has  in  its  navy  6790  guns  ;  France,  6554 ; 
Germany,  1361;  Italy,  1562;  and  Russia,  1043.  The 
United  States  has  about  the  same  number  of  guns 
as  Germany,  though  it  has  no  fewer  than  sixty 
naval  vessels,  as  tugs,  school-ships,  small  steamers, 
condemned  boats,  etc.,  out  of  commission  and  un- 
fit for  service  in  war. 

Linuie  Scbloeman :  Jane  Porter  was  born  in 
Durham,  in  1776,  and  died  in  Bristol,  May  24, 1850. 
She  was  educated  at  Edinburgh,  and  afterward 
removed  to  London  with  her  mother  and  sister. 
Here  she  published  Thaddetts  of  Warsaw,  which 
was  translated  into  several  languages.  In  1809  she 
published  The  Scottish  Chiefs,  a  story  of  the  advent- 
ures of  Bruce  and  Wallace.  Essex  Hobarten  asks 
how  to  make  a  simple  dynamo.  He  will  find  more 
detailed  information  than  we  can  repeat  here  in 
the  YOUNO  PEOPLE  dated  January  15, 1895.  A  copy 
may  be  had  from  the  publishers.  The  price  is  five 
cents.  Any  dealer  can  get  it  for  you. 

Two  Knights  say  they  collect  birds'  eggs.  Better 
not,  friends.  The  eggs  belong  to  the  birds.  We 
are  aware  that  naturalists  say  it  does  no  harm  to 
extract  one  egg  from  a  nest.  Perhaps  not.  when 
the  purpose  is  clearly  for  study.  But  the  Table 
cannot  do  this  thing  as  a  pleasure — a  mere  fancy 
for  that  sort  of  a  collection.  Please  do  not  collect 
birds'  eggs.  Chester  Lewis,  writing  from  Cincin- 
nati, sends  no  street  address.  Suppose  he  writes 
again.  James  F.  Rodgers  will  find  an  account  of 
the  Johnson  Impeachment  case  in  any  history, 
Moore's  American  C'migress,  for  example.  The  Sen- 
ate refused  to  sustain  the  impeachment,  hence  one 
might  say  that  it  thought  it  unjustifiable.  Stanis- 
laus Bloch,  5  Krueza  Street,  Warsaw,  in  Russian 
Poland,  has  Russian  and  Finland  stamps  to  trade, 
and  says  he  will  answer  all  letters.  Carl  Deal :  The 
Order  has  no  gold  badges,  but  it  has  been  suggested 
that  it  provide  such. 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


HPUDDING 
STICK 


:,riiii.-nl  is  conducted  in 

...j,l  the   Editor  will  be  pi. 

the  suljjtct  30  far  as  possible.     Corresp. 

IS  it  right  to  care  about  cue's  clothes,  and 
to  like  to  have  pretty  and  becoming 
things  ?  Why,  of  course  it  is  riot  only  right, 
but  a  positive  duty  to  have  one's  wardrobe 
in  good  order,  and  to  wear  colors  and  shapes 
\vhich  suit  cue's  style  and  complexion.  The 
girls  for  whom  I  write  are  old  euongh  to 
take  intelligent  interest  in  their  clothes ; 
some  of  them  may  even  buy  their  own  ma- 
terials, and  cut  aud  make  their  every-day 
frocks  and  waists  for  themselves.  Every 
girl  should  understand  the  principles  of 
dress-making,  so  that  she  may  know  how 
much  stuff  needs  to  be  used  in  a  gown,  and 
regulate  for  herself  the  sort  of  trimming 
which  will  finish  her  costume  appropriately. 

GKOWIXG  girls  do  not  need  many  dresses 
at  once.     A  pretty  toilette  for  best,  which 
may  at  this  season  be  of  wool  cre"pou  or  of 
summer  silk,  aud  a  serviceable  frock  of  serge 
or  some  other  strong  woollen  stuff  for  every- 
day aud   roughing  occasions,  will  meet  the 
requirements  of  ordinary  life.   A  girl  should 
have  besides  these,  for  summer,  one  or  two 
dainty  ginghams  simply  made,  a  half-d"/i-n 
shirt  waists,  four  of  linen   or  percale,  and 
two  of  silk,  and  a  white  gown   either  of 
Swiss  muslin  or  China  silk.     A  sailor  hat 
for  common  use.  a  wide-brimmed  picture  hat 
for  very  best,  and  a  jaunty  little  toque  will 
be  enough  in  the  way  of  covering  for  the 
head,  and   she  will  be  wise  to   have,  if  she 
an.  several  pairs  of  shoes.     It  is  economy 
o  have  duplicates  of  one's  shoes  and  boots, 
is  these  last  much  longer  when  frequently 
hanged  and  relieved.    For  tramping  almur 
he  roads  aud  hills  one  needs,  as  also  for 
he  city  promenade,  an  absolutely  eomfort- 
ble    walking    boot,  with    broad   soles,  low 
eels,  and  a  shape  that  tits  the  foot  to  per- 
eetiou.    Too  loose  a  shoe  is  as  disagreeable 
Hid  as  bad  for  the  foot  of  its  wearer  as  one 
vhich  is  too  tight.     A  dress  boot  may  be  of 
loth  aud  patent-leather  or  of  soft  kid.  Let 
ue  insist,  girls,  on  your  keeping  your  boots 
n  order,  so  far  as  the  buttons  are  concerned. 
Nothing  gives  one  so  careless  an  appearance 
is  a  boot  from  which  buttons  have  fallen. 

GLOVES  should  be  kept  in  order  just  as 

shoes  are.  As  they  are  a  very  expensive 
>art  of  one's  outfit,  one  should  care  for 
;hem  nicely.  lu  taking  off  your  gloves,  pull 
ihem  from  the  top  downwards,  so  that  they 

are  wrong   side    out  when    they  come    off. 

Straighten  them  at  your  leisure,  aud  keep 
?our  very  best  when  not  in  use  folded  up  in 
;issue-paper,  and  in  a  box.  Chamois  gl"\  ea 

are  nice  for  every  day,  and  have  the  advan- 
tage of  standing  a  good  deal  of  rough  wear. 

They  are  to  be  preferred  for  gardening,  driv- 
ng,  rowing,  aud  sweeping.  I  take  it  that 

among  you  are  many  girls  who  sweep  their 

own  rooms,  aud  do  not  wish  to  have  hands 
blistered  from  the  broom. 


/ 


IVORY  5  GAP 


IT  FLOATS 


Reject  any  soap  or  washing  compound  that  will  cleanse  without  an 
expenditure  of  time  and  labor.  "What  is  well  done  is  done  soon 
enough,"  and  Ivory  Soap  will  do  the  work  as  quickly  as  it  can  be  done 
with  safety. 


THE  PROCTER  Si  GAMBLE  Co..  CIN'TI. 


They  are  EASILY  EARNED,  and  it  requires  NO  MONEY 

We  want  the  services  (in  light,  pleasant,  honor- 
able work)  of 

BOYS,  GIRLS,  GENTLEMEN,  LADIES. 

\Ve  pay  generously  for  these  services — in  cash,  if 
you  like,  or  by  giving  a  much  larger  value  than  you 
would  deem  possible,  in  such  articles  as  Safety 
Bicycles  (all  the  way  from  the  24-inch  wheels  for 
the  younger  boys  and  girls  up  to  the  finest  safeties 

for  ladies  and  gentlemen — yes,  even  including  the  18 

or  19  Ib.  bicycle  for  "scorchers"),  Fishing  Outfits, 

Watches,  Cameras,  Air  Rifles  (lots  of  fun  with 

these  for  the  whole  family — no  powder,  no  smoke,  no 

danger — nothing  but  compressed  air),  Shot  Guns,  etc. 
Any  of  these  additions  to  your  summer  pleasures 

may  be  secured  practically    FREE    in    return    for   a 

little  of  your  time   and   energy.     'Full  particulars  by 

return  mail. 

ALPHA  PUBLISHING  CO.,  212  Boylston  St.,  Boston,  Mass. 


hour-  TOD  can  make  money  with  it.  A  font  of 
prett?  type,  also  Indelible  Ink.  Tjp«  Holder,  PsdJ 
and  Tweeters.  Bent  Linen  Marker;  worth  $1.00. 
Sample  mailed  FREE  for  lOc.  a  tamp*  for  postage  on 
outfit  and  large  catalogue  of  1000  Bargains, 

Cortlaodt  St.N.Y.  City 


Carry  in  pocket.  Takes  25  perfect  pictures 

in  OIIP  Ionium  — rc-loit-iiiiu-  o.-l>  LMr.      \-k 
\inir  .l.-.il'T  for  it,  in-  -'-nil  for  !r..-c  hook  Jet 

"All  About  the  Kombi." 

ALFRED  C.  KEMPER,  _ 

Branches    Londnn,  Berlin.      132-134  Luke  Street,  Chicago 


BASE  BALL.HOWTO  PLAY  IT. 

A  Great  B""k,  fi.mtains  all   the  rules;    also 
the  secret  of  pitching  curved  balls,  and  to 
bat  successfully.     Rules  for  Football  and  Ten- 
nis.   .Every  player  should  have  it.     Entirely 
newand  hanaaomely  illustrated.  ThisOreat 
Hook.  Free  to  any  one  sending  us    1O 
cents  to  par  postage.    Also  Catalogue  Guns, 
Revolvers,  "Musical  Instruments,  Magic  Tricks. 
«-U.       For 
se   15: 
elta,  IB 
IBat.  BATESSPORTING  CO.,  1OO  High  St. .Boston,  Mass. 

MUSTACHES  AND 

GOATEES. 

Fun  for  the  boys, 
omplete    dis- 
,._e;    Fine  hair 
I  goods.  As  Sample 
of  our  1000  Nuvel- 

V.  CITY. 


All   for    10c.      Orrt<kP    fl"Scfe-_- 
!*K1.9.'>  we  will  send  Our   Buwe    "Ball 
Out  til.  consisting  of  9  Caps,  9  Bella,  1  Ball, 


FALSE 


DEAF 


NESS  &  HEAD  NOISES  CURED 


livmv  INVISIBLE  Tiii-iiliir  Cusliions.  Have  helped 
more  to  conil   UCJlDinS  than  a11  other  de' 
'      Help  ears  as  glasses 
,f  proofs  FREE 


es  combined.     "Whispers  IlCMIid.    _ 
eyes.  F.  lll«<oi.  858  B'dway.N.Y.  Boote 


Songs. 


Franklin 

Square 

Collection. 


HARPER'S   NEW   CATALOGUE, 

Thoroughly  revised,  classified,  and  indexed,  will  be  sent 
by  mail  to  any  address  on  receipt  of  ten  cents. 

567 


It  would  be  difficult,  if  not  impossible, 
to  gather  more  features  of  interest  into  a 
work  of  this  kind.  Not  only  are  many  of 
the  best  songs  and  hymns  in  the  English 
language  here  given — both  old  and  new — 
but  there  are  also  songs  and  hymns  for 
children  and  the  schools.  There  are  songs 
of  home  and  of  country,  of  love  and  fame, 
of  heart  and  soul,  of  devotion  and  praise, 
with  their  sad  and  sweet  or  lively  melodies, 
ami  with  grand  old  chorals  that  stir  tbe  heart 
and  lift  it  in  worship.  Besides  the  words 
and  music,  explanatory  and  historic  notes 
are  given  to  indicate  their  origin  and  signi- 
ficance. These  books  cannot  fail  to  become 
immensely  popular. — Lutheran  Observer. 

Sold  Everywhere.  Price,  50  cents;  Cloth,  $1.00. 
Full  contents  of  the  Several  Numbers,  with  Speci- 
men Pages  of  favorite  Songs  and  Hymns,  sent  by 
Harper  *&  Brothers,  New  York,  to  any  address. 


THE    SAD    FATE    OF    A    MISCHIEVOUS    ELEPHANT. 


DOGS   IN  WARFARE. 

DURING  Boii:i)>:ii -ti-'s  campaign  in  Italy,  says  a  writer  on 
•clogs,  as  au  aid  to  military  operations,  a  (log  whose  name 
holds  a  place  in  military  history  did  service  as  scout  and 
spy,  and  showed  a  reasoning  power  that  more  than  once 
came  to  the  aid  of  Napoleon's  army.  At  Marengo  the  quaint- 
looking  poodle  Mustache  on  several  occasions  prevented 
the  regiment  falling  into  the  enemy's  ambush,  and  such 
confidence  had  the  soldiers  in  his  sagacity  that  they  fol- 
lowed where  hp  led,  and  met  with  considerable  success. 
When  Mustache  died  he  was  buried  with  military  honors, 
and  was  sadly  missed  by  his  comrades  in  the  regiment. 

Another  dog,  known  to  fame  as  Dellys,  held  for  a  long 
time  the  grade  of  corporal  in  the  Second  Eegiment  of 
Zouaves  of  the  French  army  in  Africa.  The  Arabs  used  to 
kill  the  French  outposts  by  crawling  up  to  them  in  the 
dark  and  stashing  them,  until  Dellys  made  his  appear- 
ance, when  he  soon  turned  the  tables  on  the  enemy.  The 
Zouaves  shaved  the  dog,  tied  small  branches  on  his  hack, 
and  taught  him  to  advance  slowly  on  the  Arab  sentinel, 
stopping  at  the  slightest  indication  that  he  was  noticed, 
and,  when  near  enough,  spring  on  the  man,  and  seize  him 
by  the  throat. 

In  ten  nights  seven  Arab  sentries  were  thus  killed  by 
the  brave  dog.  For  these  and  other  services  he  was  made 
sergeant,  with  stripes  attached  round  his  fore  legs.  One 
day  IMlvs  was  induced  to  wander  from  the  camp,  and 
was  killed  by  the  enemy.  The  Zouaves,  furious  at  his  loss, 
immediately  besieged  the  neighboring  village,  and  not- 
withstanding its  almost  inaccessible  position  on  the  rocks, 
took  possession  of  the  place  in  about  au  hour.  Dellys's 
death  was  avenged. 

In  the  Thirty-second  Eegiment  of  the  French  army, 
while  manoeuvres  were  taking  place  a  few  years  ago,  ex- 
periments were  made  with  the  dogs  trained  by  Lieutenant 
Jnpin,  which  acted  as  sentinels  and  were  stationed  at  some 
distance  from  the  camp,  and  gave  notice  by  a  peculiar  bark 
when  any  one  approached  within  four  or  live  hundred 
yards  of  the  post. 

TRAINING  FOR  A   PIRATE. 

Ax  item  concerning  Washington  Irving,  for  the  truth  of 
which  we  cannot  vouch,  although  it  contains  a  deal  of  good 
advice  for  certain  youngsters  of  the  present  time,  has  lately 
rome  to  our  notice.  It  is  to  this  intent: 

Washington  In  ing,  in  his  youth,  had  a  longing  to  go  to 
sea  and  be  a  pirate.  He  determined  to  make  the  attempt, 
but  wisely  decided  to  prepare  himself  for  it  by  preliminary 
experience.  He  began  by  eating  salt  pork.  That  made 
him  sick,  lie  then  slept  for  a  night  or  so  on  hard  boards. 
That  made,  him  sore.  It  was  enough.  He  had  no  more 
desire  to  go  away.  Other  hoys  who  want  to  capture  meu- 
of-»ar.  or  who  desire  to  go  scouting  and  scalp  Indians, 
would  do  well  to  imitate  young  Irving's  example. 


ANECDOTE  OF  LESSING. 

ABSEXT-MIXDEDNESS  has  been  frequently  a  characteristic 
of  men  of  fame.  It  is  to  be  supposed,  no  doubt,  that  their 
minds  have  been  so  wholly  absorbed  by  great  matters  that 
the  smaller,  more  trivial  things  of  life  have  been  con- 
sidered unworthy  of  their  attention.  Among  men  of  this 
stamp  who  have  suffered  in  this  way  was  Lessiug,  a  famous 
German  writer  of  plays  and  books  of  criticism.  Lessing 
discovered  at  one  period  of  his  life  that  he  was  being  robbed 
of  his  ready  money  by  some  person  in  his  home,  and,  un- 
able to  determine  who  the  culprit  was, he  put  the  servants 
of  his  household  to  a  test  by  leaving  a  handful  of  gold 
upon  his  breakfast  table  one  morning. 

Meeting  a  friend  he  told  him  what  he  had  done. 

"That  was  risky," said  his  friend.  "How  much  did  you 
leave  there  ?" 

"  Dear  me !"  cried  Lessiug.     "  I  quite  forgot  to  count." 


A  BUSINESSLIKE  BEGGAR. 

THEY  tell  a  story  of  an  enterprising  beggar  of  Paris 
who  went  about  with  a  sign  "I  am  blind"  hung  around 
his  neck. 

"  But  you  are  not  blind !"  said  a  man  of  whom  he  asked 
alms. 

"I  know  that,"  said  the  beggar.  "But  the  man  whose 
business  I  bought  was.  He  used  to  make  ten  francs  a  day 
on  this  route  with  this  sign.  I  bought  him  out.  Pray 
help  a  poor  blind  man  a  little,  sir." 


A  CURIOUS  DEFINITION. 

A  GliEAT  mauy  persons  have  discussed  the  question  as 
to  what  is  the  true  definition  of  the  word  gentleman.  The 
ideas  advanced  on  the  subject  are  generally  entertaining, 
novel,  and  of  great  variety,  but  there  has  probably  never 
been  a  more  singular  definition  given  than  that  of  the 
Irishman  who  was  asked  his  opinion  on  the  subject. 

"Sure,  sorr,"  he  replied,  "  a  gintlemau  is  a  —  well,  oi 
should  say  he  was  a  mou  what  ates  jam  on  his  mutton, 
sorr." 


A  BARBER'S  JOKE. 

A  WELL-KXOWX  American  clergyman  went  into  a  barbei- 
shop  one  morning,  and  being  somewhat  of  a  joker,  said  to 
the  barber,  "  My  friend,  you  may  cut  my  hair  as  short  as 
you  would  like  my  sermons  to  be." 

The  barber  immediately  got  out  his  razor  and  proceeded 
to  shave  the  doctor's  head. 

"  Hold  on  !"  cried  the  doctor.  "  Are  vou  " oin<*  to  take  it 
all  off?" 

"  You  told  me  to.  doctor,"  said  the  barber.  •'  I  don't  want 
any  of  v  our  sermons." 


:H 


HARPEKS 


ROUND  TABLE 


Copyright,  1895,  by  HARPKE  &  BROTHERS.     All  Riglits  Reserved. 


PUBLISHED    WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI.— NO.  8-4. 


NEW  YORK,   TUESDAY,  JUNE  4,  1805. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO    DOLLARS    A    TEAR. 


t* 


HEROES    OF    AMERICA. 


THE     F  L  A  G  -  B  E  A  K  E  R. 


BY    THE    HONORABLE   TI1EODOKE    ROOSEVELT. 


N  no  war  since  the  close  of  the  great 
Napoleonic  struggles  has  the  light- 
ing heen  so  obstinate  anil  bloody 
as  in  the  civil  war.  Much  has 
been  said  in  song'  and  story  of  the 
obstinate  courage  of  the  Guards  at 
Inkrrinan,  of  the  charge  of  the 
Light  Brigade,  and  of  the  terrible 
fighting  and  hiss  of  the  German 
at  liars  la  Tour  and  Gravelotte. 
The  praise  bestowed  upon  the. 

British  and  Germans  for  their  valor,  and  lor  the  loss  that 
proved  their  valor,  was  well  deserved.  But  there  were 
over  one  hundred  and  twenty  regiments,  Union  and  Con- 
federate, each  of  which  in  some  oue  battle  of  the  civil  war 


suffered  a  greater  hiss  than  any  English  regiment  at  Ink- 
cnnaii  or  at  any  other  battle  in  the  Crimea;  greater  loss 
than  was  suffered  by  any  German  regiment  at.  Gravelotte, 
or  at  any  other  battle  of  the  Franco-Prussian  war.  Xo 
European  regiment  in  any  recent  struggle  has  suffered  such 
losses  as  at  Gettysburg  befell  the  1st  Minnesota,  when  82 
per  cent,  of  the  officers  and  men  were  killed  and  wounded  ; 
or  the  lllst  Pennsylvania,  which  lost  70  per  cent.,  or  the 
•-Vit] i  N'orth  Carolina,  which  lost  7'.'  per  cent.:  such  as  at 
the  second  battle  of  Mammas  befell  the  101st  New  York, 
which  lost  74  per  cent.;  and  the  21st  Georgia,  which  lost 
7ii  per  cent.  At.  Cold  Harbor  the  25th  Massachusetts  lost 
7n  per  cent.,  and  the  10th  Tennessee  at  C'liickamanga  68  per 
cent.;  while  at  Shiloh  the  ','th  Illinois  lost  63  per  cent. .and 
the  b'th  Mississippi  70  per  cent.;  and  at  Antietaui  the  1st 


HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE 


Texas  lost  82  pel  cent.     Tin-  loss  ,>f  tin-  Light   I'.rigade  iu 
Icillcil  anil  wounded  in  its  famous  charge  iit  I'.alaklava  was 
"i    PIT  rent. 

These  figures  show  the  terrible  punishment  endured  by 
these  regiments  —  chosen  at  ranilipti]  I  rom  the  lieail  of  the 
list — which  shows  the  slaughter  roll  of  the  eivil  war.  Yet 
the  Shattered  re ant  of  each  regiment  preserved  ils  or- 
ganization, and  many  of  the  severest  losses  were  suffered 
b\  regiments  in  the  hour  of  triumph,  and  not  of  disaster. 
Thus,  the  1st  Minnesota  at  Gettysburg  suite  red  its  appalling 
loss  vv  liile  charging  a  greatly  superior  force,  which  it,  drove 
before  it  ;  and  the  little  h  in  Idle  of  vv  minded  and  mi  wound- 
ed men  who  survived  their  victorious  charge  actually  kept 
Ipolh  the  ilag  they  hadeaptnred  and  the  ground  from  which 
they  had  driven  their  foes. 

A  nnmlier  of  the-  Continental  regiments  under  Washing- 
ton, i.ivrne,  and  Wayne  did  valiant  lighting,  and  suffered 
severe  loss.  Several  of  the  regiments  raised  on  the  North- 
ern frontier  in  1-14  showed,  under  IJrnwn  and  Scott,  that 
they  were  aide  to  meet  the  liest  troops  of  I On gland  on  equal 
terin^  in  t  he  open,  and  ev  en  to  ov  ermateh  them  in  fair  fight 
with  the  bayonet.  The  regiments  \vhieh  in  the  Mexican 
war.  under  the  lead  of  Tayloi'.  captured  Monterey,  and  heat 
back  Santa  Anna  at.  Hnena  Vista,  or  whieli,  with  Seort  as 
commander,  stormed  Molino  Del  Key  and  Clia|>nllepoc, 
proved  their  ahility  to  hear  terrilile  loss,  to  wrest  vin.nv 
from  overwhelming  nnmhers,  and  to  carry  hy  upc'ii  assault 
positions  of  formidalde  strength  held  by  a  veteran  army. 
But  in  none  of  these  three  wars  was  the  fighting 30  resolute 
and  bloody  as  in  the  eivil  war. 

( 'mint  less  deeds  iif  heroism  were  performed  by  Northerner 
and  by  Southerner,  by  officer  and  by  private,  in  every  year  of 
the  "real  struggle.  The  immense  majority  of  these  deeds 
\v  nit  unrecorded,  and  were  known  to  few  beyond  the  imme- 
diate participants.  Oftho.se  that  were  noticed  it  would  lie 
impossible  c\i' n  to  make  a  dry  catalogue  in  ten  such  volumes 
as  this.  All  that  can  he  done  is  to  choose  out  two  or  three 
act-  of  heroism  not  as  exceptions,  but  as  examples  of  hun- 
dreds of  others.  The  times  of  wai  are  iron  times,  and  bring 
out  all  that  is  best  as  well  as  all  that  is  basest  in  the 
human  heart.  In  a  full  recital  of  the  civil  war,  as  of  every 
oilier  great  conflict,  there  would  stand  out  in  naked  relief 
feats  of  wonderful  daring  and  self-devotion,  and,  mixed 
among  them,  deeds  of  cowardice,  of  treachery,  of  barbarous 
brutality.  Sadder  still,  such  a  recital  would  show  strange 
contrasts  in  the  careers  of  individual  men — men  who  at  one 
time  act  well  and  nobly,  and  at  another  time  ill  and  basely. 
Hut  though  the-  uglv  truths  must  not  be  blinked,  and 
though  the  lessons  they  teach  should  be  set  forth  by  every 
historian,  and  learned  by  every  statesman  and  soldier,  vet 
these  are  not  the  truths  on  which  it  is  best  worth  while 
to  dwell.  For  our  good-fortune  the  lessons  best  worth 
learning  in  the  nation's  past  are  lessons  of  heroism. 

From  time  immemorial  the  armies  of  every  warlike  peo- 
ple have  se!  the  highest  value  upon  the  standards  they  bore 
to  battle.  To  guard  one's  own  Hag  against  capture  is  the 
pride,  to  capture  the  Hag  of  one's  enemy  the  ambition,  of 
valiant  soldier.  In  consequence,  in  every  war  be- 
twei  n  peoples  of  good  military  ie<  oril,  feats  of  daring  per- 
formed by  color-bearers  are  honorably  common.  The  civil 
war  was  full  of  such  incidents.  Out  of  very  many, two  or 
three  stand  as  especially  noteworthy. 

i  Ine  occurred  at  Fredericksbnrg  on  the  day  when  halt 
tin-  brigades  of  Meaghcr  and  Caldwcll  lay  on  the  bloody 
slope  leading  up  to  i  he  ( '..n  led  crate  en  frenchmen  ts.  Among 
the  assaulting  regiments  was  the  f>th  New  Hampshire,  and 
it  lost  L86  out  of  300  men  w  ho  made  the  charge.  The  sur- 
vivors fell  back  sullenly  behind  a  fence,  within  easy  range  of 
the  Confederate  rifle  pits.  .Insi  before  reaching  it  the  last  of 
the  color-guard  was  shot,  and  the  tlag  fell  in  the  open.  A 
Captain,  Perry,  instantly  ran  out  to  rescue  it,  and,  as  he 
"  ai  Lied  it.  was  shot  through  the  heart;  another  Captain, 
31urray.  made  the  same  attempt,  and  was  also  killed;  and 
so  w  as  a  t  bird.  Moore.  Several  private  soldiers  met  a  like 
fate.  Thev  w  ere  all  killed  close  to  the  flag,  «nd  their  dead 
bo.ii.s  fell  across  one  another.  Taking  advantage  of  this 
breast  w  oil.  Lieutenant  Xettletou  crawled  from  behind  the 
fence  to  the  colors,  and  bore  back  the  blood-won  trophy. 


Another  took  place  at  Gaines  Mill,  where  Gregg's  1st 
South  Carolina  formed  part  of  the  attacking  force.  The 
nice  was  desperate,  and  the  fury  of  the  assault  un- 
surpassed. At  one  point  it  fell  to  the  lot  of  this  regiment 
to  bear  the  brunt  of  carrying  a  certain  strong  position. 
Moving  forward  at  a  run,  the  South-Carolinians  were  swept 
by  a  fierce  and  searching  fire.  Young  James  Taylor,  a  lad 
of  sixteen,  was  carrying  the  flag,  and  was  killed  after 
being  shot  down  three  times,  twice  rising  and  struggling 
onward  with  the  colors.  The  third  time  he  fell  the  flag 
was  seized  by  George  Cotchet,  and  when  he  in  turn  fell,  by 
Shubrick  Hayne.  Hayne  was  also  struck  down  almost 
immediatclv,  and  the  fourth  lad,  for  none  of  them  were 
over  t  weuty  years  old,  grasped  the  colors,  and  fell  mortally 
wounded  across  the  body  of  his  friend.  The  fifth,  Gadsden 
Holmes,  was  pierced  with  no  less  than  seven  balls.  The 
sixth  man,  Dominick  Spellnian,  more  fortunate,  but  not  less 
brave,  bore  the  tlag  throughout  the  rest  of  the  battle. 

Yet  another  occurred  at  Antietam.  The  7th  Maine,  then 
under  the  command  of  Major  T.  AY.  Hyde,  was  one  of  the 
hundreds  of  regiments  that  on  many  hard- fought  fields 
established  a  reputation  for  dash  and  unyielding  endur- 
ance. Toward  the  early  part  of  the  day  at  Antietam  it 
merely  took  its  share  in  the  charging  and  long-range 
firing  with  the  New  York  and  Vermont  regiments,  which 
were  its  immediate  neighbors  in  the  line.  The  fighting 
was  very  heavy.  In  one  of  the  charges  the  Maine  men 
passed  over  what  had  been  a  Confederate  regiment.  The 
gray-clad  soldiers  were  lying,  both  ranks,  soldiers  and  offi- 
cers, as  they  fell,  for  so  many  had  been  killed  or  disabled 
that  it  seemed  as  if  the  whole  regiment  was  prone  in  death. 

Much  of  the  time  the  Maine  men  lay  on  the  battle-field 
hugging  the  ground  under  a  heavy  artillery  fire,  but  be- 
yond the  reach  of  ordinary  musketry.  One  of  the  privates, 
named  Kuox,  was  a  wonderful  shot,  and  had  received  per- 
mission to  use  his  own  special  rifle,  a  weapon  accurately 
sighted  for  very  long  range.  AA'hile  the  regiment  thus  lay 
under  the  storm  of  shot  and  shell  he  asked  leave  to  go  to 
the  front,  and  for  an  hour  afterwards  his  companions  heard 
his  rifle  crack  cverv  lew  minutes.  Major  Hyde  finally, 
from  curiosity,  crept  forward  to  see  what  he  was  doing,  and 
found  that  he  had  driven  every  man  away  from  one  section 
of  a  Confederate  battery,  tumbling  over  gunner  after  gun- 
ner as  they  came  forward  to  fire.  One  of  his  victims  was 
a  general  officer,  whose  horse  he  killed.  At  the  end  of  au 
hour  or  so  a  piece  of  shell  took  off  the  breech  of  his  pet 
rifle,  and  he  returned  disconsolate:  but  after  a  few  min- 
utes he  gathered  three  rifles  left  by  wounded  men,  and  went 
back  again  to  his  work. 

At  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  regiment  was  sud- 
denly called  upon  to  undertake  a  hopeless  charge,  owing  to 
the  blunder  of  a  brigade  commander,  who  was  a  gallant 
vi  i.  i;iu  of  the  Mexican  war, but  who  was  also  given  to 
drink.  Opposite  the  Union  lines  at  this  point  were  some 
hay-stacks  near,  a  group  of  farm  buildings.  They  were 
right  in  the  centre  of  the  Confederate  position,  and  sharp- 
shooters stationed  among  them  were  picking  off  the  Union 
gunners.  The  brigadier,  thinking  that  they  were  held  by 
but  a  few  skirmishers,  rode  up  to  where  the  7th  Maine  was 
lying  on  the  ground,  aud  said,  "  Major  Hyde,  take  your  reg- 
iment and  drive  the  euemy  from  those  trees  and  build- 
ings." Hyde  saluted,  aud  said  that  he  had  seen  a  large 
force  of  rebels  go  in  among  the  buildings,  probably  two 
brigades  in  all.  The  brigadier  answered," Are  you  afraid 
to  go,  sir?"  and  repeated  the  order  emphatically.  "Give 
the  order  so  the  regiment  can  hear  it,  and  we  are  ready, 
sir,"  said  Hyde.  This  was  done,  and  "  Attention  !"  brought 
every  man  to  his  feet.  A\rith  the  regiment  were  two  young 
boys,  who  carried  the  marking  guidons,  and  Hyde  ordered 
these  to  the  rear.  They  pretended  to  go,  but'  as  soon  as 
the  regiment  charged  came  along  with  it.  One  of  them 
lost  his  arm,  and  the  other  was  killed  on  the  field.  The 
colors  were  carried  by  the  color  corporal,  Harry  Campbell. 

Hyde  gave  the  orders  to  left  face  and  forward,  and  the 
Maine  men  marched  out  in  front  of  a  Vermont  regiment 
which  lay  beside  them.  Then,  facing  to  the  front,  they 
crossed  a  sunken  road,  which  was  so  filled  with  dead  anil 
wounded  Confederates  that  Hyde's  horse  had  to  step  on 


570 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


them  to  get  over.  Once  across,  they  stopped  for  n  moment 
in  the  trampled  corn  to  straighten  the  line,  and  then 
charged  toward  the  rig'ht  of  the  1  tarns.  On  they  went,  at 
the  double-quick,  fifteen  skirmishers  ahead,  under  Lieuten- 
ant Butler,  Major  Hyde  on  the  right,  on  bis  Virginia  thor- 
oughbred,and  Adjutant  Ha.skell  to  the  left,  on  a  big  white 
lior.se.  The  latter  was  shot  down  at  once,  as  was  his  horse, 
and  Hyde  rode  round  in  front  of  the  regiment  just  in  time 
to  see  a  long  line  of  men  in  gray  rise  from  behind  the  stone 
wall  of  the  Hagerstown  pike,  which  was  to  their  right,  and 
ponr  in  a  volley  :  but  it  mostly  went  over  their  heads.  He 
then  ordered  his  men  to  left  oblique.  Just  as  they  were 
abreast  a  hill  to  the  right 'of  the  barns,  Hyde,  being  some 
twenty  feet  ahead,  looked  over  its  top  and  saw  several  reg- 
iments of  Confederates,  jammed  close  together,  and  waiting 
at  the  ready ;  so  he  gave  the  order  left  flank,  and,  still  at 
the  double-quick,  took  his  column  past  the  barns  and  build- 
ings towards  an  orchard  on  the  hither  side,  hoping  that  he 
could  yet  his  men  back  before  they  were  cut  oft",  for  they 
were  faced  by  ten  times  their  number.  By  going  through 
the  orchard  he  expected  to  be  able  to  take  advantage  of  a 
hollow,  and  partially  escape  the  destructive  flank  tire  on 
his  return. 

To  hope  to  keep  the  barns  from  which  they  had  driven 
the  sharpshooters  was  vain,  for  the  single  Maine  regiment 
found  itself  opposed  to  portions  of  no  less  than  four  Con- 
federate brigades,  at  least  a  dozen  regiments  all  told. 
When  tlic  turn  got  to  tin'  orchard  fence.  Sergeant  llenson 
wrenched  apart  the  tall  pickets  to  let  through  Hyde's  horse. 
While  he  was  doing  this  a  shot  struck  his  haversack,  and 
the  men  all  laughed  at  the  sight  of  the  Hying  hardtack. 
Going  into  the  orchard  there  was  a  rise  of  ground,  and  the 
('niifederatcs  tired  several  volleys  at  the  Maine  men,  and 
then  charged  them.  Hyde's  hor.-e  was  twice  wounded,  but 
was  still  able  to  go  on.  No  sooner  were  the  men  in  blue 
bey 01  nl  t  lie  fence  tli iii i  the\  got  into  line,  and  met  the  Con- 
federates, as  they  came  crowding  behind,  with  a  slaughter- 
ing fire,  and  then  charged,  driving  them  back.  The  color 
corporal  was  still  carrying  the  color-,  though  one  of  his 
arms  had  been  broken;  lint  when  half-way  through  the 
orchard  Hyde  heard  him  call  out  as  lie  fell,  and  turned 
back  to  save  the  colors,  if  possible.  The  apple-trees  were 
short  and  thick,  and  he  could  not  see  much,  and  the  Con- 
federates speedily  got  between  him  and  his  men.  Imme- 
diately, with  the  cry  of  "Rally,  boys,  to  save  the  Major," 
back  surged  the  regiment,  and  a  volley,  at  arm's-length, 
destroyed  all  the  foremost  of  their  pursuers;  so  they  res- 
cued both  their  commander  and  the  Hag,  which  was  carried 
•  off  by  Corporal  Ring.  Hyde  then  formed  the  regiment  on 
'the  colors,  sixty-eight  men  all  told  out  of  two  hundred  and 
forty  wiio  had  begun  the  charge,  and  they  slowly  marched 
back  toward  their  place  in  the  Union  line,  while  the  New- 
Yorkers  and  Vermouters  rose  from  the  ground  cheering  and 
waving  their  hats.  Next  day,  when  the  Confederates  had 
retired  a  little  from  the  field,  the  color  corporal,  Campbell, 
was  found  in  the  orchard  dead,  propped  up  against  a  tree, 
with  his  pipe  beside  him. 


A  CHINESE  C1?E\V. 

OVER  the  mantel  in  Grandfather  Sterling's  dining-room 
hung  the  picture  of  a  great  Newfoundland  dog,  paint- 
ed so  true  to  life  that  it  seemed  possible  to  run  one's  hand 
through  the  masses  of  rough  curly  hair  as  the  big  honest 
brown  eyes  looked  down  wistfully  at  the  table  just  below 
the  heavy  oak  frame. 

One  winter  day  when  Ralph  Pell  and  his  grandfather 
met  at  breakfast- time,  a  northeast  wind  was  whistling 
around  the  corner  of  the  old  mansion,  and  hurling  the  snow 
with  a  musical  tapping  against  the  window-panes. 

The  white-haired  sailor  looked  np  at  the  picture  of  the 
noble  animal,  saying,  with  a  touch  of  affection  in  his  voice: 
"Well, Nero,  good  old  fellow, this  is  one  of  the  kind  of  days 
you  used  to  love.  How  you  enjoyed  plunging  and  rolling 
into  a  big  snow  drift,  and  making  the  white  flakes  flv  !" 

"Grandpop,"  said  Ralph,  "you  have  never  told  me  about 
Nero.  Dili  lie  ever  go  to  sea  with  you  .'" 


"Go  to  sea  with  me,  boy?  Why,  Nero  was  first  mate 
with  me  once,  and  a  good  one,  too,  when  I  had  a  Chinese 
crew  on  my  \  csscl." 

"  Oh,  do  tell  me  the  story,  please,  grandpop,"  exclaimed 
Ralph,  "for  it  must  be  a  funny  one." 

"  I'm  !  Nut  so  funny  as  you  think,  perhaps ;  but  I'll  spin 
you  the  yarn,  and  let  you  judge.  Well,  when  I  was  a  st  rap- 
ping young  fellow, 'way  back  in  the  forties,  I  sailed  out  of 
the  port  of  Boston  as  mate  of  the  bark  Euijlt;  bound  to 
Hong-Kong,  which  place,  as  your  geography  tells  you,  is  in 
China.  We  had  a  quick  passage  out,  but  found  nothing 
in  the  way  of  a  good  freight  just  then  offering  for  home,  so 
we  remained  for  several  weeks  with  our  mud-hook — as 
sailors  call  the  anchor — dropped  in  the  same  place.  It  was 
the  unhealthy  season,  and,  one  by  one,  our  crew  sickened, 
and  were  sent  on  shore  to  the  hospital.  Next  the  Captain 
was  taken  down,  and  I  found  myself,  with  the  second  mate, 
the  only  man  left  on  board  the  vessel. 

".lust  at  this  time  the  Captain  was  offered  a  good  pay- 
ing charter  to  carry  a  cargo  up  the  coast,  so  be  ordered  me 
to  ship  a  new  crew  for  the  trip,  and  to  take  his  place  as 
Captain,  saying  that  he  would  lie  himself  again  vi  hen  I  re- 
turned. There  was  not  a  white  sailor  to  lie  engaged  in  the 
port,  so  I  shipped  a  crew  of  coolies,  as  the  lower  class  of 
natives  are  called,  stowed  my  cargo,  and  set  sail;  but  as 
this  class  of  Chinamen  are  very  dirty  in  the  way  of  their 
clot  lies  and  habits,  I  took  care  to  lock  the  door  of  the  fore- 
castle-house, in  which  the  sailors  sleep,  and  to  make  the 
natives  take,  up  sleeping  quarters  on  a  lot  of  mats  thrown 
on  top  of  the  cargo  in  the  hold. 

"As  ill  luck  would  have  it,  the  poor  second  mate,  who 
had  made  several  voyages  to  the  pig-tail  country,  and 
could  talk  pigeon-English  so  as  to  be  understood  by  the 
moon-eyed  sailors,  went  out  of  his  head  with  the  fever,  and 
jumped  overboard  in  his  delirium  the  second  night  after 
leaving  port.  This  left  me  to  deal  with  a  crowd  of  men 
who  could  not  comprehend  a  single  order  I  gave  them. 
However,  as  the  place  to  which  we  were  bound  was  only 
about  two  days'  sail  away,  and  as  the  wind  was  favorable, 
I  kept  the  ship  on  her  course. 

"  Of  all  the  exasperating  times  I  have  ever  had,  that  w  as 
the  worst.  When  I  wanted  the  crew  to  man  a  certain  rope, 
I  was  obliged  to  cast  it  off  the  pin,  put  it  in  their  hands, 
and  make  signs  to  them  what  they  were  to  do  with  it; 
but  half  the  time  they  would  slack  away  when  I  wanted 
them  to  haul,  so  that  between  my  anxiety  and  ill-humor 
and  their  surliness  we  speedily  got  on  very  bad  terms,  and 
I  soon  noticed  an  ugly  disposition  on  their  part  toward 
me.  I  believe  that  the  men  would  have  turned  on  me  if  it 
had  not  been  for  the  Captain's  big  dog  Nero,  who  followed 
me  wherever  I  moved,  and  who  growled  wickedly  at  the 
evil-looking  crew  whenever  he  saw  them  look  threatening- 
ly at  me. 

"In  addition  to  the  navigating  of  the  ship,  I  was  obliged 
to  constantly  superintend  the  setting  and  taking  in  of  I  lie 
sails,  the  steering  of  the  ship,  and  many  other  matters,  .-o 
that  I  dared  not  go  below  even  for  my  meals.  The  after- 
noon of  the  day  before  I  expected  to  reach  port  I  was  com- 
pletely worn  out  with  my  labors,  and  almost  sick  from  lack 
of  sleep.  At  last  I  could  stand  guard  no  longer,  so  I  went 
through  a  regular  pantomime  with  the  man  at  the  wheel, 
signifying  that  he  was  to  keep  the  ship  going  just  as  she 
was.  Then  I  threw  myself  down  on  top  of  the  cabin- 
house,  and  immediately  fell  asleep. 

"It  was  quite  dark  when  I  was  awaked  by  Nero  shak- 
ing me  roughly  and  uttering  loud  and  angry  yelps.  In 
one  jump  I  made  the  wheel,  jammed  it  hard  over,  brought 

the  vessel  to  her  course  again,  then  called  Nero,  who  st I 

on  top  of  the  cabin  whining  in  an  ngly  way  at  the  China- 
men who  were  grouped  about  the  door  of  the  carpenter's 
shop  alongside  the  galley. 

"I  saw  through  the  trick  at  once.  The  wheelsman  had 
calculated  that  by  deserting  his  post,  the  ship  would  tly  up 
into  the  wind  and  be  wrecked  in  the  strong  luve/e  then 
blowing.  In  this  way  the  vengeful  spirit  of  the  men  was 
to  be  satisfied.  When  they  saw  that  their  plan  had  failed 
thi'\  sullenly  entered  the  hold  through  the  booby-hatch, 
and  that  was  the  last  I  ever  saw  of  my  Chinese  crew. 


571 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


••I  waited  a  liiilr  while, then  lashed  the  wheel,  pulled 

•  ill'  my  shoes.  :ni(l  sneaking  for  \\ard  noiselessly  closed 
tin'  ilimr  nf  tile  hatrli  and  slipped  tin-  bolt  into  its  socket. 

Thai  accomplished,!  went  back  to  the  wheel  much  easier 
in  mind,  for  I  knew  that  the  crew  could  not  gain  the  deck 
in  any  ol her  way. 

"During  the  night  the  wind  died  completely  away,  leav- 
ing tin-  \essel  liecalined,  anil  the  sen  snlisided  into  long, 
easy  swells.  I  dozed  at  intervals,  trusting  to  Nero  to  warn 
me  of  any  new  (lunger,  and  so  obtained  some  little  rest. 
Just  before  daybreak,  upon  awakening  from  one  of  these 
eat-mips,  1  became  sensible  that  the  ship  was  lifting  in  a 
\ery  sluggish  way  to  the  seas,  and  that  her  motion  was 
new  and  strange.  Casting  my  eyes  over  the  side,  I  was 
almost  pet  rilled  to  see  that  the  vessel  had  settled  in  the 
vater  almost  to  her  deck-line,  and  was  rapidly  sinking 
under  my  feet.  At  the  same  instant  there  came  a  violent 
pounding  forward  from  the  inside  of  the  booby-hatch  and 
a  chorus  of  \\  ild  and  agonizing  yells. 

"In  a.  Hash  the  heathenish  trick  was  revealed  to  me. 
The  riiinamen  had  determined  not  to  he  cheated  out  of  their 
revenge,  so  had  bored  holes  in  the  ship  with  an  anger  taken 
from  the  carpenter's  chest.  They  had  expected  to  rush  out 
on  deck  in  time  and  escape  in  one  of  the  boats,  probably 
leaving  me  to  go  down  in  my  vessel,  hut  found  their  way 
blocked  by  the  locked  door  of  the  hatch. 

"However  devilish  their  action  had  been,  I  could  not  let 
them  drown  like  rats  in  a  trap,  so  I  started  forward  to  their 
release,  and  had  just  laid  my  hand  on  the  bolt  when  the 
deck  blew  np,  owing  to  the  confined  air,  with  a  report  like 
that  of  a  cannon,  and  I  was  hurled  into  the  sea. 

"I  fjiiickly  gained  the  surface,  but  was  immediately 
drawn  down  again  in  the  suction  of  the  sinking  vessel,  and 
M  hen  at  last  I  once  more  found  myself  on  top  of  the  water 
I  was  so  far  spent,  strong  swimmer  though  I  was,  that  I 
would  have  sunk  helplessly,  but  Nero  caught  my  collar  and 
held  my  head  up  until  I  recovered  my  breath  and  strength. 

"Shortly  after  this  some  floating  object  bumped  np 
against  us.  which  to  my  joy  I  discovered  to  be  the  large 

w leu  chicken-coop  that  had  rested  on  the  deck.  I 

climbed  on  top  of  it,  and  pulled  Nero  up  beside  me,  and  we 
drifted  about  on  it  until  late  that  afternoon,  when  we  were 
picked  up  by  a  Chinese  junk,  and  carried  into  port. 

"And  now,  my  boy,"  said  Grandfather  Sterling,  in  con- 
clusion, "you  have  the  story  of  the  time  that  I  went  to  sea 
with  a  Chinese  crew,  and  had  Nero  for  my  first  mate." 


THORNTON'S   USELESS  STUDY. 

BY  W.  J.  HENDERSON. 
"  T  WISH  to  gracious  goodness  that  Thornton  J.  Seabury 

_|_    would  make  better  use  of  his  time!" 

That  was  the  earnest  exclamation  of  Mrs.  Seabury  mother 
of  Thornton;  and  it  was  her  earnest  conviction  that  her 
son  was  going  to  turn  out  to  be  an  idle,  unpractical, shift- 
less young  man. 

"  It's  not  that  he's  lazy,"  said  Mrs.  Seabury,  when,  in  the 
.list  rex,  of  lier  heart, she  went  to  consult  the  minister  about 
her  boy.  "Xo,  he's  not  exactly  what  you  might  call  lazy; 
hut  he  works  on  useless  things.  He  spends  hours  and 
hours  in  stmh  ing  things  that  may  lie  very  interesting  and 
very  line  to  know;  but  what  good  will  they  ever  do  him? 
lie's  w.it  to  i, lake  his  way  in  the  world, and  I'd  like  to  know 
«ho\  going  to  pay  him  for  learning  the  names  of  the  stars, 
and  orbits,  and  diurnal  mot  ions,  and  such  things  as  he  talks 
a  bunt  .'  ll<-  ought  to  be  giving  his  attention  to  something 
that  will  help  him  to  earn  an  honest  liviu"1." 

"Kilt,  my  dear  Mrs.  Seabury,"  said  the  Rev.  Thomas  Tat- 
ter,  who  was  a  man  of  education,  "  there  is  hardly  any 
study  that  cannot  be  turned  to  acconut  in  earning  a  livin"-'- 
though  I  must  admit  that  I  can't  help  admiring  your  sou 
I'm-  loving  a  study  for  its  own  sake." 

"  Well,  I'd  admire  him  too,"  said  Mrs.  Seabury,  ••  if  he 
1<>\  cd  M.IIIC,  such  study  as  civil  engineering  or  architecture." 

••  ^  es,  I  dare  say  that  these  would  promise  a  more  brilliant 
future  for  him  ;  but  we  must  admit  the  fact  that  his  "ifts 


are  for  astronomy,  and  you  know  it  is  almost  impossible  to 
overcome  the  impulses  of  a  hoy's  natural  gifts.  Even  as 
an  astronomer  a  man  may  earn  a  living." 

"Well,  I  suppose  there's  no  help  for  it,"  sighed  Mrs.  Sea- 
bury. 

AH  this  time,  Thornton,  grieved  at  his  mother's  opposi- 
tion to  his  favorite  pursuit,  was  nevertheless  more  passion- 
ately attached  to  it  than  ever.  From  early  childhood  he 
had  always  regarded  the  heavens  with  delight  and  devour- 
ing wonder.  What  were  those  beautiful  golden  stars  that 
tilled  the  splendid  dome  of  night  with  their  gentle  radi- 
ance ?  Why  had  God  put  them  there,  and  what  were  they 
doing  ?  Little  by  little  he  began  to  absorb  the  elementary 
facts  of  astronomy,  and  after  a  time  he  found  that  he  could 
make  no  further  progress  without  becoming  a  thorough 
mathematician.  So  he  set  himself  resolutely  to  work,  and 
soon  knew  all  that  his  school-teacher,  a  college  graduate, 
could  teach  him.  Thornton  really  was  a  complete,  master 
of  geometry,  trigonometry,  higher  algebra,  and  even  the 
more  advanced  branches  of  mathematics.  His  advance  in 
astronomy  was  now  rapid.  He  even  put  in  a  summer  at 
uncongenial  labor  in  order  to  earn  money  enough  to  buy 
three  or  four  second-hand  instruments.  He  never  dreamed 
that  he  might  turn  his  knowledge  to  practical  use  ;  hut  he 
studied  simply  because  he  loved  the  subject.  And  iu  the 
course  of  time  astronomy  repaid  him  for  his  devotion  iu 
ways  that  had  never  entered  his  mind. 

At  the  time  when  this  story  begins  Mr.  Seabury  had  left 
home,  on  the  Maine  coast,  and  had  gone  to  New  York  to  see 
about  a  good  situation  which  had  been  offered  him  iu  that 
city.  Times  had  been  hard  up  in  Maine,  and  Mr.  Seabury 
had  been  out  of  work  and  could  not  get  in  again.  One  day 
he  returned  home  and  told  his  wife  that  he  had  secured 
an  excellent  situation  in  New  York,  but  hardly  knew  how 
to  stand  the  great  expeuse  of  moving  his  family  and  his 
household  goods  such  a  distance.  Fortunately,  however, 
an  old  friend,  Captain  Josiah  Whitby,  of  the  schooner 
Three  Elms,  came  to  visit  them  that  evening.  As  soon,  as 
he  heard  of  the  difficulty  he  slapped  his  stout  knee  and 
said : 

"  Why,  lookee,  my  lad,  it's  lucky  I  came.  I'm  goin' to 
sail  for  New  York  on  Saturday  with  the  Three  Elm*  in 
ballast  to  get  a  cargo  there  for  Bermuda.  Now  it  ain't  a- 
goin' to  hurt  me  to  carry  all  your  rixiii's  for  uotliin',  an' 
you  an'  your  fam'ly  for  the  price  o'  what  you'll  eat." 

Mrs.  Seabury  had  some  feel  ings  of  timidity  about  the  sea- 
voyage,  but  of  course  such  a  kind  offer  was  not  to  he  refused, 
and,  moreover.  Mr.  Seabury  and  Thornton  were  both  de- 
lighted at  the  prospect  of  the  voyage.  So  during  the  next  • 
two  days  there  was  a  great  bustle  in  the  Seabury  house- 
hold. All  their  furniture,  carpets,  and  other  belongings 
were  carefully  packed  up  and  stowed  iu  the  capacious  after- 
hold  of  the  Three  Elms,  for  Mr.  Seabury 's  intention  was  to 
live  in  a  little  house  at  Williainsbridge.  Early  Saturday 
morning  Mr.  Seabury  and  Thornton  superintended  the 
storage  of  the  last  load  of  goods,  including  the  trunks  con- 
taining their  clothing  and  Thornton's  precious  hooks  and 
instruments.  Then  the  little  family  sat  down  to  breakfast 
with  Captain  Whitby  in  the  schooner's  cabin,  and  Mr.  Sea- 
bury  added  to  his  unfailing  prayer  before  eating  a  petition 
lor  their  safety  during  the  voyage  which  they  were  about 
to  undertake. 

"I  can't  get  away  from  the  wharf  before  three  o'clock 
this  afternoon," said  the  Captain,  "  because  the  Three  Elms 
can't  get  over  the  bar  here  except  at  high  water." 

;'s  spring  tide  to-day,"  remarked  Thornton. 
Hello,  boy  !"  exclaimed  the  Captain ;  "  are  yon  a  sailor  ''' 
Oh  no,  sir,"  said  Thornton.  "  I  don't  know 'one  sail  from 
another,  but  I  know  the  age  of  the  mooii,and  I  know  it's 
time  for  the  spring  tides  here." 

"Well,  even  that's  worth  knowin','' said  the  Captain, "and 
it  you  keep  your  eyes  open  while  you're  aboard  here,  you'll 
learn  a  lot  of  other  useful  things." 

"It  will  be  funny  to  see  Thornton  learning  useful  things  '' 


exelai d  Mrs.  Seabury. 


"Let  the    boy  alone,  mother,"  said    Mr.  Seabnrv   "he'll 
come  out  all  right." 

In  the  afternoon  the  schooner  got   under  way,  with   a 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


fine  westerly  breeze 
abenm,  and  stood 
out  to  sea.  As  she 
passed  the  light- 
house at  the  en- 
trance to  the  lit- 
tle harbor,  the  Cap- 
tain took  certain 
bearings  of  it  with 
his  compass,  while 
Thornton  stood  by 
and  watched  him 
with  interest. 

"I  suppose  yon 
are  fixing  the  schoo- 
ner's position  by 
bow-and-beam  bear- 
ings," said  the  boy. 

"That's  what  I'm 
doin',"said  the  Cap- 
tain ;  "but  ho\v'd 
yon  know  anything 
about  them  ?" 

"Oh,  I've  heard 
of  them,"  said 
Th  urn  ton,  modestly. 

"  Well,  come  and 
see  me  set  the  pat- 
ent log,"  said  Cap- 
tain Whitby. 

Thornton  seemed 
to  know  something 
about  that  too,  and 
the  Captain  decided 
that  although  the 
boy  might  have  a 
good  deal  of  useless 
knowledge  in  his 
head,  he  had  hold  of 
some  facts  worth  knowing, 
bury,  but  she  replied  : 

"  What's  the  good  of  his  knowing  those  things  ?  He  isn't 
a  sailor." 

"  That's  true  enough,"  answered  the  Captain,  remember- 
ing that  the  boy  did  not  know  one  sail  from  another. 

By  sis  o'clock  the  schooner  was  well  out  to  sea,  and  as  it 
Crew  dark  the  Captain  came  ou  deck  with  his  sextant. 
Thornton  became  intensely  interested. 

"  Going  to  take  Jupiter  for  latitude,  Captain  ?"  lie  asked. 

"That's  what,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  but  what  do  you  know 
about  it  ?" 

"Oh, I'm  not  so  ignorant  that  I  can't  tell  what  latitude 
and  longitude  are, "said  Thornton;  "and  I  know  that  Ju- 
piter will  be  on  the  meridian  at  8.32  to-night." 

"  Well,  then,  you  know  some  more  things  that  are  worth 
knowiu' to  a  sailor-man,  anyhow,"  declared  Captain  Whit- 
by. 

For  twenty-four  hours  the  schooner  glided  along  slowly 
and  quickly,  the  wind  constantly  drawing  ahead  and  for- 
cing her  oft'  her  course.  Then  it  fell  dead  calm,  and  a  heavy 
swell  began  to  roll  in  from  the  southeast. 

'•  Mother,"  said  Thornton,  "  dou't  be  frightened,  but  we're 
going  to  have  a  storm." 

"Mercy  sakes!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Seabury  ;  "how  do  you 
know  ?  The  Captain  hasn't  said  so." 

••  The  barometer  has  fallen  rapidly  for  the  last  six  hours, 
and  the  wind  has  been  backing  from  west  to  southwest 
and  so  on  around  to  southeast,"  said  Thornton,  "and  there's 
going  to  be  a  gale.  The  Captain  hasn't  said  anything,  be- 
cause he  docs  not  wish  to  frighten  you." 

Two  hours  later  it  began  to  blow  in  short  uneasy  puffs 
from  the  southeast,  and  Captain  Whitby  ordered  the  top- 
sails and  foretopmast  stay-sail  taken  in.  He  laid  the  ves- 
sel by  the  wind  on  the  starboard  tack,  intending  to  push 
out  as  far  as  possible  from  dangerous  proximity  to  the 
coast.  At  six  o'clock  iu  the  evening  it  was  blowing  fresh- 
ly, and  the  long  swells  were  cut  up  into  foaming  ridges. 

"  Get  the  fore-sail  off  her !"  cried  Captain  Whitby  to  his 


A  CHEER    WENT    UP,  AND   THE    MATE   SHOOK    HANDS  WITH   THORNTON. 


He  said  as  much  to  Mrs.  Sea- 


little  crew,  and  presently  the  big  sheet  of  canvas  was  furled 
snugly  on  its  boom. 

'•  In  jili,  and  lay  aft  to  reef  the  mains'l !" 

It  was  wild  weather  now,  and  no  mistake.  Tin-  big  roar- 
ing green  billows  came  raging  down  out  of  the  dusk  in  the 
southeast,  and  as  the  schooner  would  lean  far  over  to  meet 
them  it  looked  as  if  they  were  going  to  bury  her.  But  as 
each  sea  approached,  the  schooner's  bowsprit  would  swing 
upward  with  a  great  heave,  the  sea  under-raii  her,  and  down 
she  came  with  a  crash  and  a  cloud  of  spray  into  the  screech- 
ing hollow. 

"I'll  have  to  ask  you  all  to  go  below, "said  the  Captain; 
"  it  isn't  safe  for  you  to  be  on  deck.  You  might  get  washed 
overboard." 

Shut  in  the  badly  lighted  little  cabin,  with  the  one  lamp 
swinging  madly,  the  agonized  groaning  of  timbers  all 
around  them,  and  the  thunder  of  tons  of  water  falling  ou 
the  deck  above  them,  the  Seaburys  began  to  wish  that  they 
had  never  left  their  little  home  to  go  out  on  the  treacher- 
ous ocean.  They  did  not  go  to  bed.  but  sat  on  the  lockers, 
holding  fast  with  both  hands,  and  momentarily  expecting 
that  some  terrible  catastrophe  would  happen.  About  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning  they  heard  a  loud  shout  and  a  heavy 
thump  on  the  deck,  followed  by  a  rapid  shuffling  of  fn-t. 

"What  can  have  happened  ?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Sea  bury. 

"Oh, they're  coming  to  tell  us  that  we  must  take  to  the 
life-boat !"  cried  Mrs.  Seabury. 

The  cabin  door  was  pushed  open,  and  three  sailors  stum- 
bled in,  bearing  the  inanimate  form  of  the  Captain. 

"One  o'the  main  throat-halyard  blocks  fell  from  aloft." 
said  a  sailor,  "  an'  hit  hii.i.  I  reckon  he's  hurt  bad.'' 

The  Captain  was  laid  in  his  bunk, and  Mrs.  Seabury  for- 
got her  fears  in  her  anxiety  to  do  something  for  him.  And 
being  one  of  those  '•  handy  "  New  England  women,  she  could 
do  a  good  deal,  too.  She  could  not  find  any  broken  bones, 
so  she  decided  that  the  poor  man  had  been  struck  on  the 
body  and  injured  internally.  With  the  help  of  her  hus- 
band, she  prepared  and  administered  a  soothing  drink 
which  put  the  sutt'erer  to  sleep.  Poor  Thornton  sto^d  about 


573 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


idly,  and  keenly  feeling  his  helplessness.  But  at  eight 
o'ci.  ii  -k  hr  eased  his  mi  ml  a  little-  by  winding  the  chro- 
uonieter. 

In  the  mean  time  the  storm  hail  broken:  it  was  only  a 
siinimci  uale.and  at  nine  o'clock  the  wind  shit'teil  to  north- 
svest,and  the  sun  came  out.  Thornton  anil  his  I'alhrr  went 
on  deck,  leaving  Mrs.  Scabury  to  atleml  to  the  Captain,  who 
was  awake  anil  in  much  pain.  The  mate  came  up  to  Jlr. 
Seabury,  ami  said: 

•  I  hi,-,  are  a  ser'ons  Inisiness.  sir." 

••  Yes,"  answered  Mr.  Seabury  ;  "  I  suppose  you're  in  com- 
mand now." 

••  Waal.  1  am:   lint  I  wisli  I  wasn't." 

"Why,how's  thai  >," 

"  Wh\ .  \  e  SIT."  said  i  lie  mate,  scratching  his  head."  I  kin 
sail  the  schooner  all  right  ;  lint  I  can't,  navigate  her.  I'm 
bio  wed  el1  I  know  w'ich  \\a\  to  steer  now." 

"  Why  not  sail  west  till  you  sight  land  .'" 

'"Cause  I  might  hit  a  shoal  or  rocks,  uot  knowin'  they 
was  there." 

"Please  ma\  1  speak  f"  said  Thornton. 

•'  Well,  what  is  it  f" asked  his  father. 

"I  can  navigate  the  schooner,  though  I  can't  sail  her." 
said  the  boy.  earnestly. 

"You!     Why,  you  never  were  a1  sea  before!" 

"That  makes  Lio  difference."  said  Thornton:  ••sailors 
na\  igale  l.\  1  hr  sun.  moon,  and  stars,  and  I  know  all  about 
them.  Father,!  I'lnur  that  1  can  navigate  this  schooner 
into  New  York  Bay.  The  chronometer  is  running;  I  know 
where  the  captain's  sextant  is,  and  I  wish  you'd  let  me 
try." 

.  "  We  must  speak  to  the  Captain  about  this,"  said  Mr.  Sea- 
bury. 

They  went  below  and  laid  the  matter  before  the  Cap- 
tain. In  spite  of  his  sufferings  lie  became  deeply  atten- 
tive. He  asked  Thornton  this  question  : 

"How  are  you  goin'to  lind  the  po.-niou  o' the  schooner 
now  ?  I've  lost  her  rcckonin'." 

"I'll  take  a  chronometer  sight  right  away,  and  another 
two  hours  from  now,  and  work  out  the  position  by  astro- 
nomical cross-hearings — Sumner's  method,  I  think  you  sail- 
ors call  it." 

"Can  you  work  Sumner's  method  .'" 

"  (  Vriainly,  with  sun,  moon,  or  stars." 

••Then  you  know  more  navigation  than  I  do, "said  the 
Captain. 

••It's  nothing  but  applied  astronomy,  you  know,"  said 
Thornton,  "and  I've  always  been  studying  astronomy." 

"You  go  ahead  and  see  what  you  can  do,  my  boy,"  said 
the  Captain.  "Let  Bowers,  the  mate,  handle  the  schooner, 
and  you  tell  him  which  way  to  steer." 

Thornton  went  at  once  to  the  chronometer  and  set  his 
•\\atch  by  it.  Then  he  went  on  deck  with  the  Captain's 
sextant  in  his  hand,  and  the  crew  stopped  work  to  stare  at 
him.  He  had  a  short  talk  with  Bowers,  who  explained  the 
situation  to  the  men. 

"If  the  Captain  says  it's  all  right,"  said  one  of  the  meu, 
"  I  s'pose  it  is." 

Jint,  nevertheless,  they   could   not    understand   how  any 

pels mt  a  sailor  could  be  a  competent  navigator,  though 

the  simple  fact  is  that  navigation  has  not  necessarily  any- 
thing to  do  with  seamanship.  The  schooner  was  hove  to 
for  two  hours,  because  Thornton  explained  to  the  mate  that 
he  desired  to  keep  her  in  one  place  until  he  ascertained  her 
position.  At  1  l.l.'i  ihe  l»o\  took  his  second  sight  and  went 
below  to  work  out  his  problem.  His  father  stood  over  him 
in  wonder  while  he  tilled  a  sheet  of  paper  with  sines,  co- 
sines, secants,  and  such  things.  At  last  the  computation. 
of  the  position  was  completed,  and  Thornton  had  to  ascer- 
tain the  course  to  be  steered.  He  got  the  Captain's  chart, 
and.  marking  the  ship's  place  on  it.  went  into  the  sufferer's 
cabin  and  showed  it  .to  him. 

"  1  guess  you  must  be  about  right,  boy,"  said  the  Captain. 
"In  settin'  the  course, you  want  to  get  well  out  here." 

And  the  Captain  indicated  with  his  finger  certain  dau- 
li.it  must  be  given  a  wide  berth.     Thornton  set  a  safe 

course,! deck,  told  the  mate  to  get  the  schooner 

under  way  S.  '.  YV.    The  men  sprang  to  their  work  willingly, 


and  in  a  very  few  minutes  the  Thrr-e  Elms  was  cleaving  her 
•way  over  a  comparatively  quiet  sea.  For  three  days 
Thornton  continued  his  labors  as  navigator,  and  on  the 
morning  of  the  fourth  he  announced  that  the  Highlands  of 
Xavesink  ought  to  be  sighted  from  the  masthead  at.  eleven 
o'clock.  A  sailor  was  sent  up  to  look  out  for  thein.  The 
hour  of  eleven  came,  and  he  was  silent.  The  mate  and  the 
crew  looked  gravely  at  the  anxious  boy.  Could  he  have 
been  iii  error.'  Five  minutes  passed,  and  the  men  began 
to  talk  angrily.  Then  the  man  aloft  cried: 

"  Land,  ho  !  It's  the  bloomin' old  Highlands!  I  know 
that  lump!1' 

Then  a  cheer  went  np,  and  the  mate  shook  hands  with 
Thornton.  Before  supper  the  schooner  was  in  tow  of  a 
tut;,  iioing  up  the  Swash  Channel. 

"Well,  mother,"  said  Thorn  ton,  "  do  you  think  astronomy 
is  such  a  useless  thing  now  .'" 

And  she  was  obliged  to  admit  that  she  had  never  thought 
of  it  as  the  foundation  of  navigation.  Thornton  is  at 
present  the  assistant  to  the  government  astronomer  of 
a  European  country,  and  is  receiving  a  comfortable  sal- 
ary. 


HELEN'S    CHOICE. 

BY  ANNIE   HAMILTON  DONNELL. 

HELEN  set  the  baby  down  on  the  lloor,  and  the  pan  of 
clothes-pins  beside  her.  '•  There,  now.  we'll  see,"  she 
said,  gayly.  She  got  down,  too,  and  arranged  the  pins  in 
an  orderly  little  circle  astride  the  pan's  edge.  They  went 
way  round,  and  then  Helen,  with  a  sweep  of  lingeis,  sent, 
them  all  clattering  into  the  pan  again.  The  baby  crowed 

in  wide-mouthed,  toothless    ylee. 

"  roil  do  it  now,  baby — see,  just  as  I  do,"  Helen  said. 

She  sprang  lightly  to  her  feet  and  went  back  to  her 
dishes.  The  water  was  cold,  and  the  teakettle  almost 
empty,  and  mutton-chops  did  make  such  greasy  pla'es. 
l!nt  Helen  splashed  iu  cheerfully.  She  was  thinking  of 
Uncle  'Gene's  letter  on  the  mantel-piece,  and  the  tinal  de- 
cision about  it  that  very  morning  over  the  mutton-chops. 
It  made  her  sing  in  sudden  ecstatic  anticipation,  \\hat 
did  she  care  about  cold  dish-water  and  uncanny  dishes, 
when  she  was  going  to —  She  tilled  out  the  thought  with 
pantomimic  action,  running  scales  up  and  down  the  ed^e 
of  the  sink  with  dripping  fingers,  and  executing  intricate 
tuneless  measures  amid  flying  soapsuds. 

"  Helen,  Helen !''  called  a  sweet  plaintive  voice  from  the 
bedroom. 

"  Ycs'm."  The  musical  "selection"  came  to  a  quick  stop. 
Helen  hurried  in,  wiping  her  hands  on  her  apron  and  res- 
cuing the  babyfrom  an  ignominious  descent  upon  her  nose 
on  the  way.  "  What  is  it,  motherdie  ?  is  your  head  worse?". 
she  asked,  anxiously.  "I'm  afraid  it's  those  noisy  clothes- 
pins." 

"No,  dear,  but  there's  a  draught  somewhere.  I  can  feel 
it  on  my  neck.  And  I  wish  you'd  rub  my  shoulder  agaiu. 
It's  unusually  achy  this  morning." 

Helen  found  the  liniment  bottle,  and  went  to  work  with 
practised,  gentle  touch.  It  was  one  of  the  dear  invalid's  bad 
day  s,  and  she  had  riot  tried  to  get  up.  Her  pale  face  look- 
ed up  into  Helen's  with  wistful  appreciation  of  the  loving 
care.  She  was  thinking  of  Uncle  'Gene's  letter  too. 

The  clock  out  in  the  kitchen  struck  eleven  ponderously 

as  Helen  set  the  bottle  away  and  put  the  screen  before  the 

window.     In  half  an  hour  the  primary  children  would  be 

home,  aud  close  on  their  heels  the  older  ones.     And  what 

y.hurrying-scurrying  little  mortals  they  would  be! 

"Dear  little  mother,  poor  little  mother,  I'll  shut  the  door 
and  keep  I  he  Arabs  as  still  as  I  ever  can." 

Helen  always  called  them  the  Arabs  when  she  spoke  of 
them  collectively.  It  was  a  familypet  name  for  them.  The 
baby  had  toppled  into  the  big  pan,  and  was  t'a.st  asleep 
when  Helen  went  out.  She  picked  her  up  and  laid  her 
ily  beside  the  mother.  Then  with  wonderful  case- 
she  flew  about,  finishing  the  dishes,  setting  the  table  for 
lunch,  aud  doing  three  things  at  once  with  nimble  dexter- 
ity. She  met  the  Arabs  at  the  door  with  bulling  t'ore- 


574 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


tinner.     They  trooped   in  on  tiptoe,  sniffing  auxiously  for 
dinner  smells. 

"  I'm  awful  hungry!" Archie  whispered,  shrilly. 
"So  be  I  —  mrfiil .'"  Harry  echoed.     "  Arc  there  sweet- 
potatoes,  Helen  .'" 

••  I  smell  'em!  I  smell  'em!"  Molly  cried,  under  her  breath, 
dancing  across  the  floor. 

••'Sh!  'sh!  Yes,  there  are  sweet-potatoes,  but  not  for  Arabs 
with  dirty  faces.  Come  here  this  minute,  and  let  me  polish 
yon  up.  Oh,  Harry,  where  ever  did  yon  tear  your  trousers 
so  '  A  great  big  lion  tear!" 

"Folks  oughter  not  have  fences  with  splinters  to  'em, 
then,"  Harry  spluttered,  with  his  month  full  of  soapy  water. 
"I  was  crawlin'  under  to  see  if  Pat  Cm-rail's  cow  chews 
num.  Bill  Miller  >a\s  so." 

"  Does  she  .'"  Molly  asked,  eagerly. 

"  Well,  I'm  not  certain  sure,  but  I  think  so.  She  wouldn't 
open  her  mouth  more'n  a  craek  for  me  to  look/' 

"  I  bet  she  does."  little  Archie  chimed  in,  ••  'cause  I've  seen 
her  HIV  own  self.  She  make,  her  jaws  gu  just  this  way — 
look!" 

Helen  smiled  in  her  sleeve,  and  hi  id  the  little  discussion 
away  in  her  memory  for  ••  Motherdie's  "  delectation.  The 
older  boys  arrived,  and  dinner  was  presently  in  animated 
progress,  though  everybody  tried  to  keep  still  —  and  didn't. 
As  by  magic  the  sweet-potatoes  vanished  under  the  eager 
forks  and  spoons,  and  the  creamy  rice  followed  rapid  suit. 
The  Arabs  were  a  hearty  little  tribe.  \othing  pleased 
Helen  more  than  to  have  them  appreciate  her  cooking.  She 
sighed  a  little  now  over  the  thought  that  perhaps  Mahala 
would  scorch  the  rice  after  she  was  gone. 

"Well,  I  dread  her!"  suddenly  exclaimed  Roy.  as  if  in 
answer  to  Helen's  sigh. 

••Who?"  asked  Archie,  between  mouthfuls. 

••  Mahala.  She'll  seold  us  like  sixty-nine  when  we  make 
tracks  over  her  floors,  and  Helen  never  does." 

"She'll  wear  hoops,"  said  Molly,  holding  her  little  silver 
fork  in  reflective  suspension. 

"  And  make-b'lieve  banns." 

"And  cloth  slippers,  with  'lastics  eri^s-ero>s  over  her 
ankles." 

"  And  irliitc  s/wAi  »</.-••  .'" 

Helen  contracted  her  eyebrows  sternly.  "  Stop,  chil- 
dren !"  she  chided.  "  Mahula's  a  good  woman  from  the  top 
ot  her  head — 

"Make-b'lieve  bangs."  murmured  irrepressible  Archie. 

"  — to  the  soles  of  her  feet." 

"  Cloth  slippers,  you  mean." 

Helen's  eyes  tried  riot  to  twinkle.  "  She's  as  much  better 
th.au  I  am  as — as — you  can  think,"  she  ended,  lamely. 

The  Arabs  laughed  in  derisive  chorus. 

"But,  honest,  Helen,  it's  goiu'  to  be  so  lonesome  an' 
poky  !"  Molly  wailed  over  her  empty  saucer.  "  We  sha'u't 
have  a  speck  of  fun  till  you  come  home  again." 

"  A  whole  year!" 

"Twelve  months.  Four  times  twelve's  forty-eight. 
Forty-eight  times  seven's — 

"Three  hundred 'u'  sixty-live!"  concluded  Roy,  .scorn- 
fully. Roy  was  in  the  grammar  grade,  and  was  regarded 
as  an  oracle  in  arithmetic. 

The  baby  woke  up  and  lifted  her  voice  hungrily,  and 
Helen  ran  away  to  her.  The  busy  afternoon  followed  the 
busy  morning  on  swift  wings,  and  it  was  almost  supper- 
time  before  she  could  sit  down  and  think  a  minute.  Then 
she  held  Uncle  'Gene's  letter  in  her  lap  and  thought  about 
that.  "  Let  her  come  soon,"  it  said,  "and  stay  anyway  a 
year.  She  has  real  musical  talent,  and  Bab's  Professor 
(•rafiiKinu  will  develop  it  if  anybody  can.  He's  a .  genin*. 
Besides,  we  all  want  her,  and  the  child  must  need  a  breath- 
ing-spell after  trying  so  long  to  tame  those  wild  Arabs. 
Yon  can  surely  find  somebody  else  to  tutor  them." 

Yes.  (di  yes.  there  was  Mahala!  She  was  all  engaged  to 
come  and  do  it.  She  was  good-hearted  and  strong.  She 
would  be  .sure  to  treat  them  all  well  and  take  splendid 
care  of  Morherdie.  Helen  rocked  back  and  forth  content- 
edly. They  wanted  her  to  go — father  and  mother,  and 
the  Arabs  would  soon  get  used  to  doing  without  her.  Heat- 
Hi  lie  Arabs!  She  looked  down  at  the  smallest  one  of  them, 


still  trying  to  stand  the  clothes-pins  round  the  edge  of  the 
big  bright  pan.     She  was  improving  steadily. 

Let's  see — to-morrow — day  after — day  after  that.  Then 
she  was  going.  It  would  be  a  new  world  opening  suddenly 
to  her,  and  she  shut  her  eyes  to  dream  the  wonderful  dreams 
more  uninterruptedly.  Ever  since  she  had  drummed  baby 
tunes  on  t lie  tin  cake-box,  by  the  hour  at  a  time,  she  had  been 
growing  hungrier  to  learn  to  materialize  the  untamed  melo- 
dies that  ran  riot  in  her  mind,  and  made  her  fingers  tingle 
with  impotent  longing.  And  now  it  was  coming — her 
chance!  Three  days  away!  But  as  the  three  days  came 
and  went  Helen's  visions  grew  more  clouded  and  overcast 
with  secret  misgivings.  She  found  herself  worrying  for 
fear  Mahala  would  not  remember  some  of  the  little  trivial 
comforts  she  herself  had  taken  such  delight  in  remember- 
ing for  Motherdie.  And  there  were  the  baby's  soft  little 
shoes  that  needed  patching^aud  Harry's  trousers,  and  the 
dish-towels  were  in  dire  need  of  replenishment.  If  she 
only  had  a  dozen  hands  these  last  days,  and  a  dozen  times 
a  dozen  hours  to  use  them!  Her  heart  misgave  her  un- 
comfortably, lint  the\  ii-anliil  her  to  go — of  course  it  was 
just  right.  Nevertheless,  her  face  grew  sober  and  thought- 
ful,and  something  tugged  distressingly  at  her heart-strings. 

The  day  after,  and  the  day  after  that  came.  Helen 
kissed  her  mother  over  and  over,  and  hugged  the  little 
Arabs  fiercely,  and  went  away.  The  houses  and  people  on 
the  way  to  the  depot  danced  about  di/.x.ilyin  a  mist,  and 
>ln-  felt  dizzy  and  topsy-turvy  in  acute  sympathy  with 
them.  Her  father  walked  beside  her,  talking  briskly  and 
constantly.  K'ov  walked  on  ahead  with  her  valise  and 
umbrella,  and  never  once  looked  around.  Helen  watched 
him  t  hrongh  the  same  confusing  mist,  and  his  straight,  slim 
little  finiire  was  oddly  contorted.  He  had  never  looked 
bow-legged  before,  Helen  thought  in  dismay  ! 

The  train  pulled  in  and  puffed  out  again,  with  a  little 
maid,  stricken  with  sudden,  overwhelming  forlornness,  in 
the  eorner  of  one  of  its  seats.  A  plump,  benign-looking 
old  lady  sat  just  behind  her,  and  watched  herewith  curious 
sympathy.  The  baby  two  seats  ahead  leaned  over  toward 
her  insinuatingly,  and  made  her  think  of  the  baby  and  the 
doilies-pins.  Mahala  would  never  remember  the  clothes- 
pins— new.'  And  she  had  forgotten  Harry's  patch,  that 
she  meant  to  see  to  last  night  surely.  Mahala'd  forget 
Hint.  tod.  Helen  started  involuntarily  to  her  feet. 

"  What  is  it,  dearie  .'  Yon  forgot  somethin' .'"  The  plump 
old  lady  leaned  ahead  and  touched  her  arm  in  friendly  so- 
licitude. 

"  Yes.  oh  yes!  I  forgot  the  patches  on  Harry's  pants," 
Helen  lamented.  ••  anil  the  baby's  clothes-pins." 

"  Oh  lor,  dearie,  never  mind — never  mind  !  Patches  a  in't, 
nothin1  much,  nor  clo'cs-pins,  neither.  I'm  comin'  over  an' 
set  with  yon.  I  guess  you're  sorter  hnmsick,  ain't  yon' 
I've  got  some  pep'miuts  in  my  bag.  I'm  goiu'  to  see  if  I 
can't  chirk  you  up." 

Helen  moved  her  umbrella  and  hand  satchel,  and  made 
room  for  her  new  neighbor.  The  arrangement  had  its  im- 
mediate good  effects.  Somehow  the  little  old  lady  remind- 
ed her  of  Mahala,  though  Mahala  was  angular  and  tall  and 
wore  steel-bowed  spectacles;  but  she  always  associated 
Mahala  and  peppermints  together — perhaps  that  was  the 
reason.  Anyway,  if  Mahala  was  as  kind  and  thoughtful  as 
this  plump  old  lady,  why  need  she  be  anxious  and  troubled? 
Helen  was  young,  and  travelling  was  a  delightful  nov- 
elty. She  grew  cheerful  and  chatty,  and  parted  with  her 
new  friend  at  the  Junction  with  real  sorrow.  There  was 
nearly  an  hour  to  wait  at  the  Junction.  Her  train  met  the 
down  train  home  there,  she  remembered,  and  she  might 
send  a  postal  back.  But  when  she  began  to  write,  all  the 
old  misgivings  and  conscieuce-twitchings  surged  npou  her. 
She  felt  selfish  and  cruel  and  wicked.  What  business  had 
she  running  away  from  home,  where  she  belonged,  taking 
care  of  Motherdie  and  the  baby  and  the  Arabs?  They  all 
needed  her  —  they  all  needed  her.  The  words  said  them- 
selves over  with  dreary  repetition  in  her  heart.  Back  and 
forth,  up  and  down  the  platform,  she  paced  restlessly. 
Conflicting  emotions  fought  in  hand-to-hand  strn. 
She  ought  to  go  home  again.  She  wanted  to  go  the  other 
w  a  \ .  The  old  tingling  i[1  her  lingers  grew  almost  irrcsist  i- 


'WHAT    IS    IT,  DEARIE?     YOU    FORGOT    SOMETHIN'?" 


ble — the  longing  to  touch  piano-keys  and  draw  from  them 
the  music  she  knew  was  in  her  soul.  No,  of  course  she 
couldn't  give  it  up  now.  And  why  need  she? 

Two  whistles  sounded  in  opposite  directions.  Helen 
walked  faster  thau  ever.  Oh,  dear,  dear,  dear,  why  must 
the  two  trains  meet  right  before  her  eyes  ?  There  they 
•were  now.  She  watched  the  home  train  come  jerkily  to  a 
standstill,  and  her  train  approach  it  on  another  track.  She 
stood  suddenly  still,  and  began  to  talk  aloud.  "  That  train 
goes  home,"  she  said,  "  aud  that  one  doesn't.  Which  oue 
are  you  going  on,  Helen  Scott?  Quick!  Are  you  going 
home  like  a  decent  girl,  or  are  you  going  to  Uncle  'Gene's 
to  practise  scales  like  a  heatheu  and  a  sinner?"  The  pas- 
sengers were  almost  all  aboard.  "Well,  you  can  do  as  you 
please.  Helen  Scott.  I'm  going  home  to  patch  Harry's 
trousers  and  rub  my  blessed  mother  with  liniment!" 

She  darted  ahead,  and  in  another  minute  was  on  the 
train.  She  never  knew  how  she  got  on,  but  there  she  was. 
She  settled  back  in  her  seat  with  a  deep  sigh  of  relief.  The 
other  train  started  first,  and  she  shut  her  eyes  so  she 
wouldn't  see  it.  "Good-by,"  she  murmured,  wistfully; 
"  good-by." 

She  felt  weak  and  tired.  It  wasn't  easy  work  having 
hand-to-hand,  conflicts  in  her  heart.  But  she  was  glad  she 
was  going  home.  How  the  Arabs  would  shout!  In  her 
f\rileuieut  she  had  not  thought  ut'  getting  a  return  ticket, 
and  it  didn't  occur  to  her  now.  She  put  the  ticket  her  fa- 
ther had  bought  for  her  in  her  button-hole,  and  leaning 
bark  in  the  seat,  went  sound  asleep. 

A I  an  hour's  end  sin-  \\  okr  up  decidedlyrefreshed,aud  look- 
ed at  her  little  silver  watch.  They  would  he  just  about  at 
Thompson's  Crossing  now,  she  thought,  glancing  out  of  the 
window.  But  that  wasn't  Thompson's  Crossing!  They7 
were  drawing  into  a  big  bustling  station  that  Helen  didn't 
iv<  o^nize  in  the  least.  Men  were  darting  about  hurriedly, 
and  trucks  were  clattering  by  her.  What  did  it  mean? 
MI.  rhitched  at  the  sleeve  of  a  brakemau  going  down  the 
aisle,  aud  questioned  him  nervously.  ''<>h  M*.  Thank 
you.''  Hi-  passed  on.  Then  that  was  it.  She  was  going 
to  Uncle  'Gene's,  after  all,  iu  spite  of  herself!  In  her  hurry 
and  mental  perturbation  she  had  boarded  the  wrong  train 
at  the  Junction, aud  it  had  been  the  one  riot  going  home  to 


Motherrtie  and  the  Arabs.  She  had  said  "  good -by  "  too.  All 
her  brave  righting  in  vain — no,  it  wasn't  either.  She  would 
stay  at  Uncle  'Gene's  a  day,  and  then  go  home.  When  that 
was  fully  decided,  Helen  felt  better,  aud  began  to  rather 
enjoy  the  fun  and  complication  of  it  all.  Uncle  'Gene  aud 
Bab  met  her  at  the  depot,  and  overwhelmed  her  with  cor- 
dial welcoming. 

"There's  a  letter  up  home  for  you,  Heleu,"Bab  announced. 
"I  guess  they're  homesick  aud  want  you  back." 

"But  they  won't  get  you,  you  kuow,"  Uncle  'Geue  said, 
fiercely,  tucking  her  under  his  arm. 

"  No  more  they  won't !"  answered  Bab. 

Helen  took  the  little  home  message  up  stairs  with  her  into 
her  pretty  new  room.  She  opened  it  wonderiugly.  Why, 
what  was  this? 

"Dear  Nell,"  father  said.  "This  is  for  a  bit  of  a  wel- 
come and  surprise,  to  make  you  feel  quite  contented  and 
easy  about  us  all.  Did  you  think  the  mother  and  I  didn't 
notice  your  conscience-stricken  little  face,  and  know  just 
how  troubled  you  were?  But  we  took  a  notion  to  make  it 
a  real  surprise  to  you — that  Aunt  Dolly  is  coming  to  help 
Mahala  out.  There,  now,  open  your  eyes  wide,  my  dear, 
and  shut  all  the  windows  and  squeal !  Aunt  Dolly's  com- 
ing, as  sure  as  you  live.  She  has  given  up  her  boarder  and 
rented  her  little  nest,  and  is  this  blessed  miuute  on  her 
way  usward.  So  you  will  not  worry  about  us  any  more, 
for  Aunt  Dolly's  a  host  iu  herself,  aud  iilintmt  as  good  as  our 
Helen  (the  Arabs  would  scalp  me  !),  only,  if  you  please,  I'll 
swap  her  for  Helen  when  the  year's  up  !" 

Helen  forgot  to  shut  the  windows,  but  she  squealed.  A 
great  weight  of  care  slipped  off  her  shoulders  on  to  Aunt 
Dolly's. 

••  She  won't  forget  the  patch  or  the  clothes-pins  or  any- 
tliing!''  she  exclaimed.  "Aunt  Dolly's  remember  is  miles, 
miles  long!" 

Downstairs  a  door  opened,  aud  through  it  was  wafted  up 
to  Helen  a  low,  sweet  strain  of  music,  that  grew,  second  by 
secondj  t'ulli-r  and  dn-pcr,  till  it  seemed  to  embody  all  her 
own  glad  feelings,  and  to  bear  up  on  its  wings  beautiful, 
prophetic  hints  of  the  joy  that  was  on  its  way  to  her. 


576 


SNOW-SHOES    AND     SLEDGES. 


BY     KIRK     M  U  X  R  O  E. 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 
LOST    IN    THE    FOUEST. 

IT  was  not  difficult  to  find  the  Fox  River,  for  it  was  the 
first  stream  flowing  into  tbe  Pelly  ou  the  right,  aud  as 
the  ice  in  the  latter  river  was  much  smoother  than  it  had 
been  ou  the  Yukon,  our  sledge  travellers  turned  into  it  ou 
the'  second  day  after  leaving  Harper's. 

"Now,"  said  Phil,  "  we  must  keep  a  sharp  lookout  for 
Cree  Jim's  cabin;  for  as  no  one  seems  to  know  exactly 
where  it  is  located,  we  may  find  it  anywhere  between  here 
aud  the  head  of  the  stream.  At  any  rate,  we  can't  atl'onl  to 
miss  it." 

They  did  miss  it,  though,  aud  after  camping  one  night  on 
the  river,  reached  its  head  in  a  lake  that  they  knew  must 
be  the  Fox.  Although  the  day  was  but  half  spent,  Phil  de- 
cided to  camp  at  that  point. 

"You  and  I,  Serge,"  he  said,  "must  go  back  down  the 
river,  one  on  each  side,  making  long  detours  away  from  it, 
in  hopes  of  finding  either  the  cabiu  or  some  trail  leading  to 
it.  At  the  same  time  we  must  keep  a  sharp  lookout  for 
game.  Anything  from  a  hear  to  a  rabbit  would  be  accept- 
able now,  for  if  we  don't  replenish  our  stock  of  meat  pretty 
soon  we  shall  lose  our  dogs." 

'•  All  right,"  replied  Serge.  "  Only,  Phil,  do  be  careful 
and  not  get  lost." 

"  Never  you  fear  ou  that  score,"  laughed  the  young 
leader.  "  I'll  look  out  for  myself;  hut  see  that  you  do  the 
same." 

So  the  two  lads  set  forth,  leaving  Jalap  Coombs  to  pre- 
pare camp  and  boil  the  oatmeal  porridge,  which,  mixed 
with  a  small  quantity  of  fish, 
now  formed  the  dogs'  daily 
meal. 

Phil  plunged  directly  into 
the  forest,  deciding  to  .start 
out  with  one  of  the  detours 
that  he  had  planned.  Once 
within  shelter  of  the  trees, 
he  found  the  snow  so  deep 
that  but  for  his  snow-shoes 
he  could  have  made  no  pro- 
gress. By  their  aid  he  was 
able  to  push  forward  at  a 
fair  rate  of  speed,  which  he 
determined  to  maintain,  on 
as  straight  a  line  as  possi- 
ble, until  within  half  an 
hour  of  sunset.  Then  he 
would  bend  to  the  left  until 
he  reached  the  river,  which 
he  was  certain  could  not  be 
very  far  away,  and  which 
he  could  follow  back  to 
camp  even  in  tUe  dark. 

So  for  several  hours  he 
plodded  sturdily  forward, 
keeping  a  sharp  lookout  for 
any  trail  of  man  or  beast, 
aud  making  as  little  noise 
as  possible  in  the  hope  of 
surprising  something  wor- 
thy of  a  shot.  All  at  once 
the  surprise  came  from  the 
other  side  ;  for,  with  a  rush 
from  behind  a  clump  of 
young  hemlocks,  a  huge 
brown  animal,  with  great 
palmated  horns,  crossed  his 
path  only  a  few  rods  ahead, 
aud  dashed  away  at  right 
angles,  flinging  the  snow  to 
both  sides  like  a  rotary  rail- 
road plough.  Rapid  as 


were  his  movements,  Phil  got  iu  one  flying  shot  just  as  he 
disappeared. 

"It  was  a  moose!"  thought  the  excited  lad;  "biggest 
one  I  ever  saw.  And  I  hit  him!"  he  cried  aloud,  a  minute 
later,  as  he  examined  the  broad  trail  left  by  the  Hying 
beast.  "  Hit  him  hard,  too,"  he  added,  as,  noting  blood 
stains  on  the  snow,  and  forgetful  of  everything  else,  he  set 
forth  iu  hot  pursuit  of  his  stricken  game.  "He  eau't  hold 
that  pace  long,  wounded,  and  through  snow  as  deep  as 
this,"  he  reflected, '•  and  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  I  found 
him  at  bay  inside  of  a  mile.  Oh,  if  I  can  only  get  him, 
it  will  settle  the  food  question  for  the  rest  of  the  trip!" 

So,  with  high  hopes,  and  with  all  his  hunting  instincts 
fully  aroused,  Phil  followed  that  blood-stained  trail,  uot 
only  for  oue  mile,  but  for  several  more,  though  without 
catching  another  glimpse  of  the  flying  moose.  Nor  could 
he  discover  any  sign  of  slackened  speed  or  diminished 
streugth  on  the  part  of  his  huge  quarry.  The  strides  were 
just  as  loug  as  at  first,  and  the  snow  was  flung  just  as  far 
on  either  side  of  the  trail.  But  for  the  crimson  stains  be- 
tokening a  steady  loss  of  blood  Phil  would  loug  since  have 
given  up  the  chase.  They  encouraged  him  to  keep  on, 
"For  surely,"  he  said  to  himself,  "no  animal,  not  even  a 
moose  can  stand  a  drain  like  that  forever." 

All  at  once  he  stopped  short  and  gazed  about  him  with 
startled  glances.  The  trail  was  growing  dim;  stealthy 
shadows  -were  creeping  through  the  forest.  The  day  was 
siient  aud  night  was  at  hand.  "Now  I  am  in  for  it?"  he 
cried,  bitterly.  "  Here  I  am  miles  from  camp  without  an 
idea  of  its  direction  or  that  of  the  river.  My  only  guide  to 
either  is  the  trail  by  which  I  have  just  come,  and  I  should 


s       T  '-" 

•~*    *t  • 

<n»  v  »:• 

-^^•. --f-~ 


•COME,  MAN.      COME    WIF    NEL-TE.      MAMMA    SAT    COME." 


HARPEK'S   ROUND   TABLE 


lose  thai  in  the  darkness  before,  I  had  gone  half  a  mile. 
•n,,.  onlj  ihing  in  do  is  make  a  hungry  camp,  and  make  it 
qlljrk,  too,  before  ih<-  light  is  wholly  gone." 

•J'luis  deriding.  1'liil  left  the  trail  ami  hastened  towards  a 
luiiirh  of  dead  timber  that  stood  a  short  distance  to  oue 
si,i,,.  ||,  scraped  the  suow  from  a  prostrate  log,  and  then, 
using  one  of  his  snow-shoes  as  a  shovel,  dug  out  a  small 
space  dnwn  in  Hie  ground  beside  it.  A  little  pile  of  diy 
I  w  igs  and  hark  and  a  few  st  ieks  of  larger  wood  were  hastily 
cnllected  and  heaped  against  the  log.  When  he  got  his 
lire  well  started  he  would  gather  more.  Now  to  whittle  a 
handful  of  shavings,  and  then  for  a  blaze.  Oh,  how  good 
ii  would  seem!  How  it  would  drive  away  the  horrid  lone- 
liness, push  hack  the  encroaching  shadows,  and  replace  the 
deadh  chill  of  the  on-coming  night  with  its  own  genial 
warmth!  It  could  not  furnish  food,  of  course,  and  he  must 
cnduro  long  hours  of  hunger,  but  even  that  could  be  borne 
with  its  cheery  aid. 

And  now  to  light  it.  Phil  had  a  match-safe  in  oue  of  his 
inner  pockets,  win-re  he  always  carried  it  for  just  such 
emergencies  as  this,  and  at  length,  after  a  struggle  with 
his  close-fitting  parka,  he  drew  it  forth.  As  he  opened  it 
and  gazed  into  its  empty  interior^  a  chill  penetrated  his 
\  cry  marrow. 

••  What  a  fool  I  am!  what  a  miserable  careless  fool!"  he. 
cried,  in  tones  of  despair.  "  I  knew  it  was  empty  two  days 
ago  and  meant  to  refill  it.  But  I  didn't,  and  now  I  must 
sutt'er  the  consequences.  What  shall  I  do?  What  shall  I 
do!  A  night  in  this  place  without  a  fire  will  drive  me 
crazy,  even,  if  I  don't  freeze  to  death  before  morning." 

As  Phil  gazed  about  him  in  a  very  agony  of  apprehension 
his  glance  rested  on  his  rifle  leaning  against  a  tree,  and  a 
ray  of  hope  entered  his  heart.  There  was  fire  if  he  could 
only  capture  and  control  it.  How  was  it  that  wrecked 
sailors,  and  lost  hunters,  and  all  sorts  of  people  always 
managed  to  obtain  fire  from  a  gun,  or  rather  from  a  pistol, 
which  was  practically  the  same  thing?  He  tried  to  recall 
what  he  had  read  of  such  experiences.  Oh  yes!  It  was 
by  flashing  powder  in  the  pan.  But  his  gun  hadn't  any 
pan.  He  had  never  seen  one  that  had,  unless  it  was  Kuril- 
la's  flintlock.  Of  course,  now  he  remembered,  it  did  have 
a  place  into  which  the  Indian  used  to  pour  a  little  powder 
every  time  he  wanted  to  fire  his  old  blunderbuss.  How 
Phil  wished  his  Winchester  were  a  flintlock  musket  just  at 
that  moment.  But  it  wasn't,  and  it  didn't  have  any  pan, 
and  loose  powder  was  not  used  in  connection  with  it.  But 
there  was  plenty  of  powder  encased  in  its  metallic  car- 
tridges if  onh  he  could  get  at  it,  and  could  contrive  some 
plan  for  adapting  it  to  his  purpose. 

All  these  ideas  passed  like  a  flash,  and  Phil  had  hardly 
thought  of  powder  before  he  was  examining  one  of  his  ear- 
tridivs,  and  trying  to  dig  the  bullet  out  of  its  metal  shell 
with  the  point  of  his  knife.  But  it  was  held  too  tightly, 
and  he  only  pricked  his  lingers. 

Then  another  plan  came  into  his  mind.  He  laid  his  rifle 
on  the  ground.  Over  its  stock  he  spread  a  square  of  cotton 
cloth,  such  as  he  and  Serge  were  accustomed  to  tear  from 
t  lie  great  piece  provided  among  their  stores  whenever  they 
needed  clean  handkerchiefs.  On  the  cloth  Phil  laid  a  car- 
tridge, that  he  held  in  position  with  the  sharp  edge  of  his 
knife  blade,  placed  so  that  it  would  cut  just  at  the  base  of 
the  bullet.  Then  he  struck  the  back  of  the  blade  a  smart 
Idow  with  a  billet  of  wood,  and  the  job  was  done.  He  had 
got  at  the  powder. 

Hi-  poured  out  two-thirds  of  the  precious  mixture,  and 
rubbed  it  well  into  one  side  of  the  cloth, -which  he  doubled 
twice  and  fixed  against  the  log.  Then,  after  stopping  the 
open  end  of  the  shell  with  a  tiny  wad  of  lint  to  keep  the 
remainder  of  the  powder  from  running  out,  he  inserted  it 
in  the  chamber  of  his  rifle.  Aiming  it  at  the  cloth,  with 
the  muzzle  about  one  foot  away,  and  trembling  with  cold, 
or  excitement,  or  anxiety,  or  with  all  three,  he  pulled  the 
trigger. 

Tin-  report  that  followed  was  hardly  as  lend  as  that  of  a 
small  fire-cracker,  but  the  success  of  the  scheme  was  in- 
stant. The  little  llame  poured  from  the  muzzle  of  the 
rifle  into  that  powder-impregnated  square  of  cotton  cloth 
i.united  it  at  once.  A  moment  later  it  was  nestled  amid 


the  bundle  of  twigs  and  shavings,  while  Phil,  on  hands  and 
knees,  was  puffing  at  it  like  a  pair  of  bellows. 

In  two  minutes  more  his  fire  was  a  certainty,  the  black 
shadows  were  already  beginning  to  retreat  before  its  cheery 
attack,  and  Phil  Ryder's  spirits  had  jumped  from  zero  al- 
most to  the  figure  that  represents  h'ght-heartedness. 

Throwing  off  his  fur  parka,  that  he  might  the  better  ap- 
preciate its  warmth  later,  and  seizing  a  snow-shoe,  he  cleared 
the  whole  space  between  the  first  log  and  another  that  lay 
a  few  yards  beyond.  Into  this  opening  he  dragged  all  the 
logs  and  dead  branches  he  could  find,  working  with  such 
energy  that  at  the  end  of  an  hour  he  had  a  fine  large  pile, 
and  was  in  a  glow  from  the  exercise.  Now  he  built  an- 
other fire  against  the  further  log,  and  piled  his  spare  wood 
so  that  it  was  beyond  reach  of  either  flame. 

He  next  spread  a  few  spruce  and  hemlock  boughs  on  the 
ground  between  the  two  fires,  selected  a  medium -sized 
chunk  of  wood  for  a  pillow,  donned  his  parka,  drew  its  great 
hood  over  his  head,  and,  with  his  rifle  by  his  side,  lay  down 
on  a  much  warmer  and  more  comfortable  couch  than  he 
had  dared  anticipate  a  couple  of  hours  before. 

Phil  meant  to  keep  awake  so  as  to  tend  his  fires,  but  in- 
stead of  so  doing  he  fell  asleep  within  an  hour,  and  slept 
soundly  right  through  the  night.  When  he  at  length 
awoke  and  sat  np,  he  was  chilled  and  stiff  with  cold,  for 
the  fires  were  very  nearly  extinguished  by  a  fall  of  snow 
that  had  sifted  down  through  the  forest  while  he  slept. 
As  the  poor  lad  discovered  this,  he  became  filled  with  ter- 
ror, for  he  knew  that  the  back  trail  was  obliterated,  and 
that  all  hope  of  regaining  camp  by  its  means  was  cut  off. 
Now  he  was  indeed  lost.  As  he  gazed  hopeless  and  bewil- 
dered about  him  he  caught  sight  of  something  that  he  at 
first  took  to  be  a  dog  sitting  only  a  few  yards  away,  and 
regarding  him  hungrily.  He  spoke  to  it  and  the  animal 
started  to  sneak  away.  Then  he  saw  that  it  was  a  wolf, 
and  hastened  its  movements  with  a  rifle  shot. 

As  it  was  not  yet  light  enough  to  commence  his  search 
for  the  river,  or  for  some  stream  that  would  lead  him  to  it, 
he  begau  to  throw  wood  on  the  fires  that  he  might  at  least 
get  warm  before  starting.  While  thus  engaged  he  was 
startled  by  a  cry  apparently  in  the  voice  of  a  child  that 
rang  dolefully  through  the  silent  forest.  Again  he  heard 
it,  plaintive  and  long-drawn,  and  this  time  nearer  than  be- 
fore. It  was  so  weird  a  cry  to  be  heard  in  that  place  and 
at  that  time  that  he  shuddered  as  he  listened  for  its  repe- 
tition. Its  very  humanuess  added  to  its  terror.  At  its 
third  utterance  Phil  seized  his  rifle,  cocked  it,  and  faced  the 
direction  of  the  sound,  expecting  in  another  moment  to  be 
confronted  by  the  tawny  form  of  a  mountain-lion. 

CHAPTER     XXVIII. 
PHIL  ASSLMES   A   RESPONSIBILITY. 

PIIH.  had  never  met  nor  even  seen  a  mountain-lion,  but 
he  had  often  heard  that  its  cry  sometimes  imitates  that  of 
a  child  so  closely  as  to  deceive  the  most  expert  of  hunters. 
He  had  heard  too  of  its  ferocity,  its  boldness  in  attacking 
human  beings,  and  its  terrible  strength.  In  some  respects 
it  is  even  more  to  be  feared  than  that  monarch  of  the  North 
American  wiklueruess  the  grizzly  bear,  for  the  former,  be- 
longing to  the  cat  family,  is  a  famous  tree-climber,  which 
the  latter  is  not. 

These  thoughts,  together  with  all  the  stories  he  had  ever 
read  of  mountain-lions,  flashed  through  the  lad's  mind  in 
the  few  miuntes  that  elapsed  between  the  first  and  third  of 
those  terrible  cries.  Before  it  could  utter  another  the  fear- 
ful beast  would  be  upon  him.  and  with  tense  muscles  he 
braced  himself  for  the  coming  conflict.  He  would  not  have 
a  chance  for  more  than  one  shot.  If  it  failed  him,  all  would 

be    lost. 

The  sound  of  the  third  wailing  cry  had  hardly  died 
a-waj  when,  with  a  gasp  half  of  relief  that  the  suspense 
was  ended,  half  of  dread,  Phil  caught  a  momentary  glimpse 
of  a  brown  furry  object  moving  through  the  trees.  It 
would  next  appear  from  behind  yonder  clump  of  bushes. 
The  rifle  was  slowly  lifted,  a  deliberate  sight  was  taken 
alonu  its  shilling  barrel,  and  then,  as  the  furry  object  ap- 
peared at  the  precise  point  where  it  was  expected,  the  forest 


578 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


echoed  with  its  ringing  shot.  But  the  bullet  had  not  been 
allowed  to  fulfil  its  fatal  mission.  One  blessed  instant 
had  beeu  granted,  even  as  the  trigger -was  pressed,  in  which 
to  give  the  barrel  a  slight  upward  jerk,  and  dellect  the 
leaden  messenger  from  its  deadly  course. 

The  rifle  fell  from  Phil's  nerveless  hand,  as  weak  and 
faint  he  leaned  against  a  friendly  tree  trunk.  As  he  stood 
there,  staring  with  still  unbelieving  eyes,  a  little  fur-clad 
child,  uot  more  than  four  years  old,  walking  on  the  tiniest 
of  snow-shoes,  came  close  to  him,  smiled  trustfully  up  in  his 
face,  and,  holding  out  a  small  mittcned  hand,  said: 

"  Come,  man.     Come  wit"  Nel-te.     Mamma  say  come." 

If  Phil  had  been  nearly  paralyzed  with  horror  to  dis- 
cover, as  bis  eye  glanced  along  the  levelled  rille-barrel,  that 
he  was  aiming  at  a  human  being,  he  was  almost  equally 
staggered  at  hearing  the  fur-clad  atom  who  called  himself 
Nel-te,  address  him  in  English.  How  could  it  be?  Who 
was  he  ?  How  came  he  there,  alone  in  that  vast  wilderness 
of  trackless  forest,  ice,  and  snow?  Where  had  the  child 
spent  the  night  just  passed,  that  had  been  so  filled  with 
terrors  to  him?  How  had  he  lived  through  it?  Where 
was  his  mother? 

All  these  questions  and  more  he  asked  the  child, as  he 
sat  ou  a  log,  and,  drawing  the  little  one  to  him, gazed  at 
him  as  though  he  were  unreal, and  might  at  any  moment 
vanish  as  mysteriously  as  lie  had  come. 

But  the  child  evidently  had  neither  the  time  nor  the  in- 
clination for  explanations.  He  gravely  repelled  all  the 
lad's  friendly  advances,  and  turned  to  .^o  away,  ES  though 
confidently  exp.-cting  him  to  follow.  As  Phil  hesitated 
for  a  moment  he  looked  back,  and  in  a  voice  that  had  a 
slight  tremble,  together  with  a  lower  lip  that  quivered  just 
a  little,  he  repeated  : 

"  Come.     Mamma  say  come." 

And  Phil,  picking  up  his  rifle,  followed  after  the  unique 
little  figure  like  one  who  is  da/.ed.  A  happy  smile  lighted 
the  child's  face  at.  this  compliance  with  his  wish,  and  after 
that  he  plodded  sturdily  onward  without  turning  his  head, 
as  though  satisfied  that  his  mission  was  accomplished.  Af- 
ter thus  going  something  less  than  a  quaiter  of  a  mile,  they 
emerged  from  the  forest,  and  oame  to  a  log  cabin  standing 
on  the  bank  of  a  small  stream. 

Though  fairly  well  built,  this  cabin  did  not  differ  in  out- 
ward appearance  from  ordinary  structures  of  its  kind  in 
that  country,  save  that  its  single  glass  window  was  hung 
with  white  curtains.  These  caught  Phil's  eye  at  once,  but 
ere  he  had  time  to  speculate  concerning  them  his  little 
guide  bad  reached  the  door.  Slipping  off  the  small  snow- 
shoes  he  pushed  it  open  and  entered.  Phil  followed,  but 
had  not  taken  a  single  step  into  the  interior  ere  he  started 
back  in  dismay. 

On  the  floor  close  beside  the  threshold  lay  an  Indian — a 
tall  handsome  fellow,  but  with  a  terrible  gash  in  one  side. 
From  it  his  life's  blood  had  evidently  drained  some  time 
before,  for  it  needed  but  a  glance  to  show  that  he  was  dead. 

From  this  startling  sight  the  lad's  gaze  wandered  across 
the  room.  It  caught  the  white  curtains,  a  few  poor  at- 
tempts at  ornamentation  of  the  walls,  an  empty  hearth,  on 
which  was  no  spark  of  lire,  and  then  rested  ou  a  rude  bed 
in  one  corner,  to  which  the  child  had  just  run  with  a  joy- 
ful cry. 

<  )n  the  bed  lay  a  woman,  and,  to  Phil's  utter  amazement, 
she  was  a  white  woman,  who  was  feebly  speaking  to  him 
in  English.  Her  bloodless  face,  terribly  emaciated,  was 
surrounded  by  a  wealth  of  dark  brown  hair,  and  her  great 
eyes  were  fixed  on  him  with  a  pitiful  eagerness. 

"Thank  God!  thank  God,  sir!"  .she  said,  in  a  voice  so 
near  a  whisper  that  Phil  was  obliged  to  bend  his  head  to 
catch  the  words.  "Now  that  you've  come,  I  can  die  in 
peace,  for  my  Nel-te  will  be  cared  for.  I  prayed,  oh.  how 
I  prayed !  But  it  seemed  as  if  my  prayers  were  to  be  of  no 
avail,  until  at  length  the  answer  came  in  the  report  of  your 
gun.  Then  I  sent  the  child  to  find  you.  And  oh,  sir.  I  do 
thank  you  for  coming.  I  do  thank  my  Heavenly  Father 
for  sending  you.  And  you  will  care. for  my  baby  ?  Yon 
will  take  him  far  from  here,  where  he  may  grow  to  be  a 
good  and  useful  man  ?  You  will,  won't  yon,  sir?  Promise 
me.  Promise  me  you  will.'' 


"  But  you  mustn't  die,"  answered  poor  Phil,  who  was  so 
bewildered  by  the  perplexities  of  the  situation  that  he 
knew  not  what  to  say.  "I  have  two  companions  who  will 
know  what  to  do  for  you,  and  we  will  stay  until  you  get 
stronger.  What  docs  it  all  mean,  anyway?  Are  you 
wounded?  Did  that  Indian  attack  you  ?" 

"He  was  my  husband,  my  Jim,"  whispered  the  woman, 
again  opening  her  eyes,  which  had  closed  wearily  after 
her  recent  effort  at  talking.  •'  He  died  for  me,  and  I  am 
dying  for  him." 

Here  she  was  interrupted  by  a  terrible  fit  of  coughing, 
and  a  gush  of  blood  from  some  internal  hemorrhage. 

After  a  few  minutes  she  continued:  "He  shot  a  moose, 
and  with  its  last  strength  it  charged  on  him.  When  he 
did  not  come  home  I  went  in  search  of  him.  I  found  them 
lying  together.  Jim  still  breathed.  Somehow  I  managed 
to  bring  him  home  on  my  back.  But  he  was  dead  when  I 
got  him  here,  and  the  strain  had  been  too  great,  for  me.  I 
had  burst  a  blood  vessel,  aud  had  barely  strength  to  crawl 
to  the  bed.  That  was  two  days  ago.  I  should  have  died 
that  first  night,  but  fought  with  death  for  Nel-te's  sake. 
Now  I  can  go,  aud  I  am  glad,  for  I  am  so  weary — so  weary." 

This  pitiful  story  was  told  in  whispers,  with  many  pauses 
and  many  struggles  for  breath.  WThen  it  was  finished  the 
great  pleading  eyes  again  closed,  and  the  woman  lay  so 
still  that  Phil  thought  she  must  be  dead.  He  tried  to  feel 
of  her  pulse,  but  started  at  the  touch  of  her  hand,  for  it 
was  like  ice.  The  chilL  of  it  seemed  to  reach  his  very 
heart,  aud  he  shivered  in  the  deadly  cold  of  the  room. 

"I  can  at  least  make  a  fire," he  thought,  and  he  began  to 
search  for  matches.  There  were  none,  aud  finally  bethink- 
ing himself  of  the  blaze  he  had  left  in  the  woods  he  set 
forth  to  fetch  fire  from  it.  In  a  few  minutes  he  returned 
with  a  couple  of  burning  brands.  Then  he  brought  in 
wood,  aud,  after  a  little  the  great  fireplace  was  filled  with 
leaping  flames. 

Nel-te  came  to  him  aud  begged  for  water.  Phil  had  no- 
ticed several  times  that  the  child  was  eating  snow,  aud 
now  berated  himself  for  not  realizing  that  the  little  fellow 
was  thirsty.  He  melted  snow  in  a  kettle,  and  the  boy 
drank  eagerly.  Then  from  some  hiding-place  he  produced 
a  smoked  salmon  that  he  began  to  eat  ravenously.  After 
a  little  he  paused,  looked  hesitatingly  at  Phil,  and  then 
shyly. but  with  inborn  hospitality,  held  out  the  fish  to  his 
guest,  saying  :  "  Y'ou  hungry?" 

"Indeed  I  am, little  chap, "answered  Phil,  who  was  just 
remembering  how  very  hungry  he  was,  "and  I  shall  be  only 
too  glad  to  take  a  bite  with  you."  So  he  cut  off  a  piece  of 
the  fish,  and  as  the  two  ate  their  strange  meal  in  company 
Phil  knew  that  the  little  stranger  had  won  his  heart;  for 
never  had  he  felt  so  drawn  to  any  child  as  to  this  one. 

While  they  were  thus  engaged,  the  woman  again  un- 
closed her  eyes,  aud  made  a  slight  movement.  Phil  held  a 
cup  of  water  to  her  lips,  and  she  drank  thirstil3T.  It  seemed 
to  give  her  strength,  for  she  said  : 

"  You  have  not  promised  me,  lad.  But  you  will — I  know 
you  will;  for  God  has  sent  you  in  answer  to  my  prayers. 
You  will  care  for  my  baby,  and  try  to  love  him,  and  IICMT 
let  him  forget  his  mother.  You  will  promise,  and  I  know 
I  can  trust  you,  for  you  have  a  brave  face  aud  honest.  You 
will  promise  me?" 

"  I  do  promise,"  said  Phil,  solemnly,"  that,  if  you  are  taken 
from  your  boy  I  will  care  for  him  to  the  best  of  my  ability, 
aud  be  to  him  a  brother  and — 

"  That's  enough,  lad.  Now  hand  him  to  me.  for  I  canna 
see  him.  His  name  is  Nelson  McLeod." 

This  last  came  in  so  faint  a  whisper  that  Phil  barely 
caught,  the  words;  but  as  he  lifted  the  little  one  to  the 
bed  the  woman  seemed  to  gain  new .  strength,  for  she 
flung  her  arms  about  the  child,  strained  him  to  her  breast, 
and  kissed  him. 

Then  the  wasted  arms  unclosed.  She  fell  back,  a  smile 
glorified  her  face,  aud  the  great  brown  eyes  opened  for  one 
parting  look  at  her  boy.  In  another  moment,  with  a  sigh 
of  content,  she  fell  into  the  sleep  that  knows  no  waking  : 
and  Phil, recalling  the  long-ago  story  of  the  missionary. 
knew  that  the  sorrows  of  Ellen  McLeod  were  ended. 

[lO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


579 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


THE    AMERICAN    TRESTLE    BRIDGE    AND    TUNNEL    ENTRANCE. 


facilities,  though  they  are  small  and  rather 
simple,  are  in  their  way  as  complete  as  in 
'  any  full-size  railroad. 

The  track  is  over  80  feet  in  length,  with 
a  gauge  of  2|  inches;  and  in  order  that  he 
might  get  in  in  these  80  feet  all  the  differ- 
ent forms  of  railway  construction  Dr.  War- 
neford  has  made  the  track  so  that  it  runs 
over  some  of  the  uneven  spots  in  his  yard, 
and  in  this  way,  in  the  places  where  bridges 
are  required,  he  has  constructed  that  form 
of  bridge  which  would  naturally  be  best 
suited  to  the  particular  form  of  ravine  or 
cavity  over  which  the  road  is  to  run.  One 
of  the  prettiest  of  these  bridges  is  a  thor- 
oughly constructed  cautalever  bridge,  on 
the  form  of  the  great  Forth  Bridge  be- 
tween Scotland  and  England,  which  passes 
over  a  little  excavation  immediately  after 
the  train  has  come  out  of  a  long,  thorough- 
ly constructed  tunnel,  the  entrance  to 
which  appears  ill  two  of  the  illustrations. 
Another  bridge  is  a  perfectly  constructed 
skew  arch,  which  the  train  crosses  a  few 
feet  after  leaving  Chicago.  Then  comes  the 


A  MINIATURE   RAILROAD 
SYSTEM. 

ONE  of  the  most  interesting  models  per- 
haps ever  made,  in  a  popular  way,  has 
been  prepared  by  an  English  clergyman, 
the  Rev.  H.  L.  Warneford,  of  Windsor,  Eng- 
land. Dr.  Warneford  has  a  small  yard  in 
the  rear  of  his  house,  surrounded  by  an  or- 
dinary brick  wall,  which  may  be  seen  in 
each  of  the  illustrations  accompanying  this 
article.  Along  the  rear  end  of  the  garden 
he  has  bnilt  a  railroad  from  wall  to  wall, 
in  that  distance  overcoming  the  inconven- 
iences of  the  ground  which  usually  require 
the  mechanical  ability  of  railroad  builders. 
The  road  runs  from  a  little  station  called 
Chicago  at  one  end  to  a  small  station  at 
the  other  end  known  as  Jericho.  It  is  com- 
plete in  every  detail,  and  as  thoroughly  so 
as  if  it  were  one  of  the  great  lines  that  run 
across  England.  The  two  stations  even 
have  advertisements  pasted  over  them,  as 
any  ordinary  station  does;  and  the  terminal 


THE    STEEL    TUBULAR    BRIDGE. 


model  of  an  American  trestle,  and  after  pass- 
ing over  this  the  road  runs  through  the  tun- 
nel, over  the  cautalever  bridge,  through  a 
cutting,  and  finally  over  a  steel  tubular 
bridge  into  Jericho. 

Besides  all  these  constructions,  the  pro- 
portions of  which  can  be  easily  seen  by  com- 
paring them  with  the  ordiuaTy  size  bricks 
of  the  stone  wall,  the  road  is  fully  equipped 
with  complete  sets  of  signals,  which  can  he 
and  are  worked  with  telegraph  wires  and 
posts.  There  are  not  only  signals  for  con- 
nections and  ordinary  use,  but  Dr.  Warne- 
ford has  even  constructed  a  fog-signal  ap- 
paratus, which  is  worked  by  a  spring  when 
the  engine  passes  over  it,  causing  a  hammer 
to  fall  on  a  small  blank  cartridge  ;  and  this, 
ex  pi.  id  ing,  is  the  signal  for  the  train  to  come 
to  a  stop  at  a  time  when,  either  on  account 
of  fog  or  similar  impenetrable  mist,  the  ordi- 
nary signals  would  be  of  no  use. 

As  to  the  train  itself,  that  consists  of  a  lo- 
comotive, which  is  a  complete  model  of  an 
ordinary  English  engine.  The  steam  is  gen- 
erated by  spirits,  and  the  engine  draws  a 


580 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


couple  of  trucks  and  a  passenger-cnr.  When 
the  steam  is  up,  and  the  train  is  started,  the 
reverend  gentleman  has  to  run  his  level 
best  to  get  to  the  next  station  before  the 
train,  otherwise  it  would  be  "missing." 
When  it  does  arrive  at  its  destination,  the 
fact  is  made  known  by  an  electric  bell  ring- 
ing automatically;  and  on  close  inspection  of 
the  photograph  of  the  Jericho  station  the 
electric  button  may  be  seeu  at  the  end  of 
the  tracks  inside  the  depot.  On  the  line 
between  the  stations  there  is  a  signal-box, 
with  levers  to  work  the  signals,  as  complete 
in  its  way  as  any  signal-tower  in  existence  ; 
and,  as  some  one  said  who  visited  the  line 
a  short  time  ago,  the  only  thing  that  is  lack- 
ing on  the  line  is  the  stentorian  call  of  the 
conductor,  "All  tickets  ready." 

The  accompanying  illustrations,  which 
are  taken  from  photographs  made  especial- 
ly for  HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE,  are  interest- 
ing in  many  ways.  They  were  taken  dur- 
ing the  last  winter,  when  snow  was  on  the 
ground,  and  wheu  experiments  were  being 
tried  with  a  tiny  snow-plough  ou  the  front 


THE    CANTALEVER    BRIDGE. 


SIGNAL    TOWER,  AND    ENGINE    WITH    SNOW-PLOUGH. 


of  the  engine  to  see  if  the  track  could  be 
cleared.  One  of  the  illustrations  shows  the 
plough  at  work  in  the  cutting;  and,  as  any 
one  may  see,  the  job  is  not  a  light  one  to 
clear  the  track  at  that  spot.  In  one  or  two 
of  the  illustrations  interesting  comparisons 
may  be  made  as  to  the  size  of  the  bridges 
and  the  train  with  some  of  the  small  shrubs 
which  have  sprung  up  near  the  track  ;  but 
such  are  the  perfect  proportions  of  the  model 
track,  signals,  and  station  that  unless  some 
such  object  is  compared  with  them  or  the 
size  of  the  bricks  in  the  wall  is  noted  the 
photographs  might  be  those  of  a  normal 
train  taken  from  a  great  distance. 

The  parts  of  the  road  representing  mason- 
ry are  not,  of  course,  built  of  true  stones,  but 
simply  of  boards  painted  to  represent  them. 
The  bridges,  however,  are  sincere  construc- 
tions in  every  part,  each  "  timber"  being  set 
iu  place  by  itself,  and  the  whole  construc- 
tion made  to  rely  on  its  own  strength,  with- 
out any  false  support.  The  steel  tubular 
bridge  Ur.  Waruet'ord  had  made  for  him, 
and  it  will  bear  the  weight  of  a  boy.  All 


the  castings  for  the  wheels  and  machinery  of 
the  engine  and  cars  are  perfect  in  their  way. 

The  readers  of  the  ROUND  TABLE  will  re- 
member that  last  fall  we  published  a  photo- 
graph of  the  perfect  model  of  a  trolley-car 
which  not  only  ran  by  electricity,  just  as  an 
ordinary  car  docs,  but  had  all  the  details, 
even  to  advertisements,  that  the  trolley  has. 
This  trolley-car  was  an  extraordinary  piece 
of  work;  but  whereas  the  Warneford  engine 
is  not  more*thun  eight  inches  long,  the  trol- 
ley was  between  two  and  three,  feet  long. 
The  care  taken  in  constructing  the  English 
train,  engine,  and  road  must  have  been  iu- 
tinitely  greater  and  the  difficulties  consider- 
ably increased  on  account  of  its  smaller  size  ; 
but  such  work  is  not  impossible  for  any  one 
with  a  mechanical  turn  of  mind. 

This  whole  railway,  in  fact,  is  a  most  in- 
teresting and  suggestive  piece  of  work,  and 
illustrates  what  mechanical  ability  and  in- 
genuity can  do,  and  how  much  amusement 
and  profit  even  so  busy  a  man  as  an  Eng- 
lish clergyman  may  find  in  working  ou  such 
a  thing  as  a  hobby. 


CHICAGO,  AND    THE    SKEW    BRIDGE. 


581 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


SOME   DONTS   FOE  SWIMMERS. 

r,V   WILLIAM    HEMMINGWAY. 

IT  is  ju>t  as  dangerous  tn  play  with  water  as  it  is  to  play 
will,  tin-.      I'roliahU    no  sport    is  more  dangerous  than 
swimming,  just  as  none  other  is  nuite  so  delightful.     If  you 
use  proper  cam  i >  exercise  is  safer  than  swimming 

But  what  is  proper  caul  ion  .'  It.  is  almost  impossible  tn 
Irani  how  to  swim  liy  reading  any  amount  of  printed  in- 
structions. Imt  il  is  easy  to  learn  how  to  take  care  of  one's 
self  in  the  water.  One  of  the  best  swimming  teachers  I 
ever  knew  summed  it  all  np  in  these  words:  Don't  lie  rash. 
Don't  lie  frightened.  It  seems  to  me  that  no  advice  call  he 
better  than  that.  I  think  that  one  more  rule  is  safe  to 
follow,  Don't  "  show  oil'." 

Let  us  look  at  what  happens  to  the  rash   swimmer  and 

diver.     1'robabh  evei\  o if  yon  has  known  or  heard  of 

some  poor  over-confident  fellow  who  has  lost  his  life  by 
diving  overboard  without  knowing  the  depth  into  which 
he  was  plunging.  Nothing  can  be  more  dangerous.  There 
is  a  tine  swimming-beach  at  the  upper  part  of  the  Harlem 
River,  near  Farmers'  Bridge,  on  the  Manhattan  Island  shore. 
There  are  bath-houses  in  plenty,  and  a  long  stretch  of  firm 
.andy  shore.  One  of  the  best  oarsmen  of  his  year,  went 
swimming  there  a  few  years  ago.  He  had  just  come  to  the 
end  of  live  months'  hard  training  and  racing.  During  that 
long  period  swimming  had  been  forbidden  to  men  in  the 
ore \v, because  it  was  feared  that  they  might  tire  themselves 
out  at  it,  and  use  np  strength  that  should  be  applied  to 
rowing.  But  now  tlie  restraints  of  training  were  oft",  and 

.1 was  having  a  delightful  frolic  with  his  friends.      He 

was  a  strong  swimmer  and  a  graceful  diver.  Running 
down  the  beach  he  splashed  out  until  lie  was  knee-deep  in 
the  river,  and  then  gathered  himself  for  a  dive.  He  plunged 
head  first  on  a  sand-bar.  His  neck  was  dislocated.  He 
did  not  live  live  minutes. 

That  young  man  had  been  swimming  from  the  same  place 
last  year,  lie  thought  he  was  familiar  with  the  shore. 
Really  he  had  forgotten  just-  where  it  was  safe  to  dive.  If 
he  had  been  cautious  enough  to  ask"  his  comrades,  or  even 
to  wade  out  a  little  further  and  learn  the  depth  for  him- 
self, lie  would  not  have  lost  his  life. 

Do  yon  think  it  childish  to  be  cautious  ?  Put  away  the 
idea.  The  bravest  men  are  nearly  always  the  most  careful. 

"Your  Majesty  knows  not  what  fear  is,"  said  a  courtier 
to  King  Oscar  of  Sweden,  who  had  fought  in  many  hand- 
to-hand  battles  with  wonderful  success. 

"The  man  who  does  not  know  what  fear  is."  replied  the 
King,  "is  a  fool." 

And  fear  is  only  another  name  for  over-cantiousness. 

"No  matter  how  well  you  think  yon  know  a  swim- 
ming-place, take  nothing  for  granted.  So  many  changes 
take  place  in  a  year.  Sand  bars  are  formed  by  the  tides. 
If  you  dive  from  a  pier,  how  can  you  know  without  actual- 
ly investigating  what  timber  may  have  been  swung  loose 
by  the  water's  action  since  last  year,  and  be  now  lurking 
for  you  beneath  the  surface'  And  as  for  swimming  in 
strange  water,  never  do  it  without  learning  all  you  can 
about  the  conditions.  Henry  Guy  and  I  were  chumming 
for  bluelisli  in  Fire  Island  Inlet  recently.  We  had  tine  luck 
for  a  while.  Suddenly  the  blnelish' disappeared.  Alter 
waiting  idly  a  few  minutes  I  began  to  yearn  for  a  swim. 
The  air  »  as  very  warm,  and  the  cool,  green  water  was  rip- 
pling a  thousand  invitations.  Just  as  I  was  about  to  dire 
off  the  stern  of  our  cat-boat  the  skipper  touched  my  arm 
and  shook  his  head. 

••  I  ton'l  !"  lie  exclaimed. 

-Why  not  .'" 

"Sharks." 

That  was  all  of  the  conversation.  Before  I  was  half 
dieted  the  skipper  lunched  my  arm  and  pointed  at  a  long, 
dark  gray  object  that  loafed  along  against  the  tide  six  or 
eight  feet  below  our  keel.  It  w  as  a  shark.  Sly  hair  bristled. 
Von  see  it  is  advisable  to  know  sometimes  just  where  you 
are  "at ." 

Di\ing  is  certainly  the  best  way  for  you  to  enter  the 
water  always  provided  that  you  know  all  about  its  depth. 
Nothing  can  be  more  unhealthfnl  than  the  dawdling  habit 


of  wading  out  ankle-deep  or  knee-deep,  and  waiting  to  get 
your  eon  ram-  np.  The  hot  sun  beats  down  on  your  head. 
Voiu  feet  and  legs  are  in  the  cool  water  whose  temperature 
is  anywhere  from  ten  to  twenty-five  degrees  lower  than 
that  of  the  air. 

Von  can't  remain  long  under  these  conditions  without  in- 
juring yourself.  Nature's  plan  is  to  have  the  head  cool 
and  the  extremities  warm.  Go  contrary  to  this,  and  you 
are  in  trouble.  Probably  most  of  you  can  remember  hav- 
ing had  a  headache  some  time  or  other  from  this  very 
cause.  Indeed,  physicians  will  tell  yon  that  many  attacks 
of  cramps  in  the  water  are  due  to  the  swimmer's  foolish 
habit  of  wading  in  very  slowly.  Deranged  circulation 
causes  cramps.  In  places  where  it  is  not  safe  to  dive  you 
can  easily  stoop  over  and  throw  a  few  handfnls  of  water  on 
your  head.  Then  hurry  forward  and  throw  yourself  in — 
fall  in.  Will  other  fellows  laugh  at  your  precautions? 
\\  ell.  let  them  laugh,  and  pay  for  it  with  the  twinges  of 
cramps.  I  have  been  swimming  twenty  years,  and  I've 
never  had  a  cramp,  simply  because  I've  followed  the  rules 
laid  down  here. 

Never  let  yourself  be  frightened  in  the  water.  A  boy  I 
know  found  himself  far  outside  of  the  breakers  at  Cape 
May.  He  swam  deep — that  is,  with  his  feet  far  below  him 
— and  found  that  in  spite  of  his  efforts  he  was  making  no 
headway,  or  very  little.  Instead  of  howling  for  help,  and 
using  np  his  strength  ill  struggles  that  would  drown  him 
before  help  could  arrive,  he  put  his  wits  to  work.  He  soon 
found  that  the  ott'-shore  current  was  below  the  surface,  and 
thai  at  the  very  top  of  the  water  the  flow  was  toward  the 
shore.  Thereupon  he  drew  up  his  legs  and  swam  as  near 
the  surface  as  he  could.  Even  then  it  was  a  long  swim  for 
a  twelve-year-old  boy,  but  he  got  the  beach  under  his  feet 
at  last.  Another  boy  I  know  was  dragged  far  out  by  a 
"sea-puss"  at  Long  Branch — one  of  those  deadly,  swift, 
sudden  currents  that  pounce  on  a  bather  unawares  and 
carry  him  away  from  shore.  This  boy  waved  his  arm  and 
shouted  for  help.  When  he  saw  the  men  on  shore  running 
toward  a  surf-boat  he  calmly  turned  over  on  his  back  and 
devoted  all  his  energies  to  floating.  He  had  been  carried 
nearly  a  mile  before  he  was  rescued.  If  either  one  of  these 
boys  had  been  frightened  he  probably  would  have  drowned. 


PUDDING 
STICKS 


«J9 

:  ffjS?£3.4$i 


This  Department  is  conducted  in  the  interest  of  Girls  and  Yonne  Women,  and  the  E.iitur  «ill 
be  plenswd  to  answer  any  question  on  the  bubject  so  far  as  possible.  Correspondents  should 
address  Editor. 

J  HEARD  of  a  society  the  other  day,  a  society  which  has  a 
beautiful  name.  I  am  sure  you  will  agree  with  me  about 
the  name  when  I  tell  you  that  it  is  called  "The  Cheer  and 
Comfort,  Society."  Its  object  is  to  send  good  reading  mat- 
ter, particularly  magazines,  papers,  and  interesting  books, 
to  people  too  poor  to  obtain  them  by  purchase,  and  not 
likely  to  get  them  from  lending  libraries,  and  the  lady  who 
can  tell  yon  all  about  the  society  and  its  work  is  Jliss  Em- 
ily Campbell,  of  Short,  Hills,  New  Jersey. 

The  sweet  words  "  Cheer"  and  "  Comfort "  are  repeating 
themselves  in  music  in  my  mind  as  I  write.  Perhaps  you 
would  like  to  know  where  I  am  writing  this  Pudding  Stick 
letter  to  you,  dear  girls.  Well,  the  place  is  in  the  country, 
in  a  lovely  valley  with  green  hills  rising  around  it  on  everj 
side, and  standing  like  guardian  sentinels  about  the  plea- 
sant homes  w  Inch  are  scattered  over  the  breezy  fields  and 
plains  beneath  them.  The  morning  is  very  cool,  and  the 
blue  sky  is  just  breaking  through  the  heavy  clouds  which 
awhile  ago  threatened  rain.  Wrapped  in 'a  shawl,  think 
of  it  you  who  are  reading  this  on  a  day  too  warm  for  shawls, 
and  established  in  a  big  easy-chair,  with  my  paper  resting 
on  a  book  in  my  lap.  1  am  thinking  of  you*  I  write  these 
little  letters  almost  always  in  this  way;  they  seem  more,, 
intimate  and  confidential  than  if  I  sat  down  beside  my 
desk,  and  shut  my  door,  and  put  on  a  sort  of  let-me-aloue- 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


if-you-please  business  air.  I  fancy  tli.it  most  of  the  letters 
I  receive  from  you  are  written  in  this  same  easy  and  friend- 
ly way,  and  that  you  keep  your  note-paper  in  little  boxes 
anil  portfolios,  and  perhaps  Minn-times  iu  a  dear  old  atlas, 
which  makes  a  delightful  portfolio. 

To  GO  BACK  to  "  Cheer  "  and  "  Comfort."  There  are  al- 
ways chances  iu  life  to  do  both,  for  turn  where  you  will, 
there  are  those  who  are  iu  need  of  help.  Not  always  bod- 
ily help.  Often  those  who  have  every  earthly  thing  they 
need  —  shelter,  money,  food,  clothing,  books,  all  sorts  of 
opportunities — are  iu  want  of  the  heavenly  things  which 
"  cheer  "  and  "  comfort  "  mean.  They  are  depressed,  low  in 
their  spirits,  sad,  and  troubled.  They  are  even  cross  and 
disagreeable  because  they  are  unhappy.  To  such  persons 
young  people,  with  bright  faces  aud  light  hearts,  can  bring 
both  the  cheer  that  gives  courage  and  the  comfort  that 
takes  away  pain.  You  haven't  to  do  anything  in  a  grand 
and  heroic  fashion  either.  Simply  be  yourselves,  and  let 
the  gladness  that  is  in  you  bubble  up  aud  overflow,  aud 
you  will  make  tired  people  happier. 

T\vo  SCHOOL-GIKLS  sat  behind  me  in  a  car  the  other  day, 
chatting  together  in  low  voices,  and  laughing  immoderate- 
ly every  few  minutes  at  the  happenings  of  their  day.  Bless 
them,  the  sweet,  gay,  merry-hearted  creatures!  The  car 
seemed  lonesome  after  they  reached  their  station,  aud  went 
trippiug  along  the  road  up  the  long  hill  to  their  home  out 
of  sight  from  my  point  of  view.  Just  be  yourselves,  dears, 
and  you  will  make  older  people  happy.  I  sent  a  loving 
little  word  of  thanks  after  my  school-girls,  for  they  had 
been  a  help  to  me.  If  they  read  the  ROUND  TABLE,  here's 
a  bit  meant  for  them. 

OXE  AFTERNOON,  passing  a  church  on  a  city  street,  I  read 
this  announcement  on  a  bulletin-board  at  the  door,  "The 
Pleasant  Words  Society  will  meet  at  four  o'clock.''  Wasn't 
that  tine?  The  "  pteasant  words  "  society  !  Whatever  we 
think  of,  however  we  feel,  we  may  speak  pleasantly,  our 
words  and  our  tones  being  iu  our  own  control.  The  effort 
to  speak  pleasantly  will  usually  cause  us  to  feel  pleasant, 
aud  it  is  pleasant  people — people  who  please — who  get  to- 
gether and  form  societies  and  clubs.  Who  ever  heard  of  a 
Fault-finders  Society  or  a  Cross  Words  Society  1  Fretful 
fault-finders  have  to  sit  iu  corners  alone. 

ANOTHER  SOCIETY  of  which  I  know  is  the  T.JI.D.  S., 

which,  being  interpreted,  is  the  Ten  Minutes  a  Day  So- 
ciety. This  is  an  association  of  young  girls  which  re- 
quires of  its  members  only  that  they  shall  devote  ten 
minutes  every  day,  or  sixty  minutes  every  week,  to  sewing, 
or  iu  some  other  way  working  for  orphans  and  the  poor. 
It  sends  garments  to  hospitals  aud  asylums,  boxes  to  home 
aud  foreign  missions,  aud  accomplishes  a  wonderful  deal 
of  good,  by  simply  using  ten  minutes  of  each  day  in  a  bit 
of  unselfish  work. 


/ 


S£LUg 

« 


st  of  Amnte 
bject  so  far 


•  Photographers,  and  the  E.litor  will 
»s  possible.    Correspondents  should 


This  Department  ia  conducted  in  the  int 
be  pleased  to  answer  any  question  on  the  subjec 
address  Editor  Camera  Club  Department. 

PAPERS  FOR  BEGINNERS,  XO.  3. 
GETTING  READY  TO  DEVELOP. 

IF  there  is  one  place  more  than  another  where  one  needs 
to  be  methodical  it  is  in  the  dark  room.     It  is  lighted 
but  dimly,  and  groping  about  for  materials  or  apparatus 
often  results   in  disaster  to  that   most  susceptible  of  all 
things,  the  sensitive  plate.     One  should  have  his  materials 


so  arranged  that  he  can  put  his  hand  on  anyone  in  the 
dark. 

Besides  knowing  where  the  materials  are,  and  always 
having  them  in  their  place,  the  materials  aud  apparatus 
used  for  developing  should  be  placed  tin1  vame  way  each 
time  when  arranging  them  for  developing.  Place  the  hypo- 
tray  far  enough  away,  and  iu  such  a  position,  that  there 
shall  be  no  danger  of  getting  any  of  the  hypo  into  the 
, developer.  If  the  water  for  rinsing  the  plates  is  at  the 
right  hand  of  the  developing-tray,  place  the  hypo-tray  at 
thr  left  hand  of  the  water.  Then  in  washing  the  developer 
from  the  plate  before  placing  it  in  the  hypo  it  will  be  clear 
of  the  developer,  and  if  one  is  unlucky  enough  to  let  the 
plate  slip  into  the  hypo,  drops  will  not  spatter  into  the 
developer. 

Never,  under  any  circumstances,  set  a  vessel  on  the  flour 
which  contains  any  liquid  beside  water.  The  dismay  which 
has  fcilloweil  an  unfortunate  step  in  the  dark,  when  one  has 
set  the  hypo-tray  on  the  floor  with  a  well-developed  plate 
''fixing"  iu  it, can  only  be  understood  and  appreciated  by 
the  amateur  who  has  been  so  rash  as  to  invite  such  a  dis- 
aster. 

Get  the  water  for  washing  and  rinsing  the  plates  ready 
first,  and  if  one  has  running  water  this  means  simply  at- 
taching the  hose  to  the  faucet  aud  getting  the  washing  box 
ready.  Next  fill  the  hypo-tray  and  put  it  in  its  place,  then 
the  developing-trays  should  be  placed  in  front  of  the  lan- 
tern, aud  the  developing  solution  mixed  in  the  glass  gradu- 
ate ready  for  use. 

Look  at  the  lantern  and  be  sure  that  there  is  enough  caudle 
or  oil  to  last  during  the  developing.  To  be  left  in  dark- 
ness with  a  plate  at  its  most  critical  point  of  development 
is,  to  say  the  least,  a  great  annoyance. 

See  that  the  dishes  are  perfectly  clean.  This  should 
always  be  attended  to  after  each  development.  It  not  only 
saves  time,  but  the  possibility  of  fresh  solutions  being 
spoiled  by  the  decomposing  of  chemicals  left  in  the  trays  is 
thus  avoided. 

Having  everything  in  readiness — the  bottles  of  restraiuer 
and  accelerator  where  they  will  be  at  hand  if  needed — get 
the  plates  which  are  to  be  developed.  These  should  be 
placed  on  a  convenient  shelf,  or  stand  where  they  will  be 
out  of  the  way  of  liquids,  but  where  they  can  be  easily 
reached.  If  the  plates  are  still  iu  the  holder,  of  course 
they  do  not  need  to  be  covered,  as  they  are  already  shut 
away  from  the  light,  but  if  they  have  been  removed  from 
the  holders  and  placed  in  a  box,  have  a  cover  from  a  larger 
plate  bos  to  turn  over  the  box  after  it  is  open.  This  will 
prevent  fogging  the  plates,  aud  is  easier  to  adjust  than  the 
cover  which  fits  the  box. 

It  is  a  good  plau  to  provide  one's  self  with  light  wooden 
covers  a  little  larger  than  the  trays.  These  can  be  made 
from  cigar  boxes,  aud  a  little  white  porcelain  knob,  such  as 
druggists  use  on  small  drawers,  screwed  on  for  handles. 
The  cover  for  the  hypo -tray  should  have  a  white  baud 
painted  across  it,  or  marked  iu  some  way  by  which  it  may 
be  easily  distinguished  from  the  covers  for  the  developiug- 
trays.  These  covers  are  very  convenient  to  place  over  the 
trays  if  one  wishes  to  leave  the  dark  room  for  a  moment. 
or  to  open  the  door  to  admit  a  little  fresh  air.  They  can 
also  be  placed  over  a  tray  when  the  plate  is  first  covered 
with  the  developer  if  the  plate  is  extremely  sensitive.  A 
screw  eye  can  be  put  iu  the  end  of  the  cover  to  hang  it  up 
by  when  not  in  use. 

Having  once  decided  on  the  most  convenient  way  for 
arranging  the  materials  for  developing,  stick  to  it.  The 
task  of  finding  and  using  what  is  needed  will  soon  become 
mechanical,  and  the  mistakes  which  occur  from  a  haphaz- 
ard way  of  arranging  the  developing  outfit  will  be  avoided. 

In  the  next  paper  for  beginners  we  shall  suggest  some 
home-made  appliances  for  the  dark  room  which  have  been 
designed  by  skilful  amateurs  for  saving  time,  space,  ami 
money.  Any  of  our  amateurs  who  have  improved  wn\>  "I 
doing  things  are  requested  to  send  descriptions  to  the 
Camera  Club.  We  have  already  several  ou  hand,  which 
will  be  published  in  their  appropriate  places.  When  send- 
ing a  description  of  home-made  apparatus,  send  a  photo- 
graph with  it  if  possible. 


583 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


JOURNEYING    TOWARDS   LONDON. 


KING   ARTHUR  AND    HIS   KNIGHTS. 

I. — UTHER  PENDRAGON,  THE  FATHKR  OF  ARTHUR. 

JACK  anil  Me  ill  ir  had  joined  the  Order  of  the  Knights  ami 
Ladies  of  the  Round  Table,  and  had  become  Sir  Jack 
and  Lady  Mollie  in  consequence.  They  were  proud  of  it, 
too,  not  so  much  because  of  the  titles  they  were  thereby 
permitted  to  use,  but  because  they  knew  that  it  was  a  great 
thing  to  be  knightly  enough  to  become  members  of  a  so- 
ciety which  had  high  aims  and  lofty  purposes  in  view. 
They  were  both  sturdy  little  Americans,  and  to  be  known 
as  NiY  Jack  and  Ludy  Mollie  did  not  add  at  all  to  the  good 
opinions  they  had  of  themselves,  except  in  so  far  as  these 
honorable  prefixes  to  their  names  showed  that  they  were 
members  in  good  standing  of  a  flourishing  organization. 

Who  the  original  Knights  of  the  Bound  Table  were  and 
what  they  had  done  they  did  not  know,  but  they  set  about 
finding  out  as  soon  as  they  received  their  membership 
cards,  for,  as  Jack  said,  "  What's  the  use  of  going  into  a 
thing  without  (hiding  out  all  about  it?"  And  Mollie,  as 
usual,  agreed  that  that  was  the  thing  to  do. 

So  they  asked  their  father  about  it,  and  it  turned  out 
that  he  knew  very  little  more  about  the  Knights  of  the 
nricinal  Round  Table  than  they  did.  He  did  know  that  at 
the  head  of  the  table  had  sat  a  certain  King  of  England, 
Arthur  by  name,  who  was  a  Knight  of  great  prowess,  but 
beyond  this  he  was  quite  ignorant  on  the  subject.  He 
said,  however,  that  he  would  look  the  matter  up  when  he 
had  time,  and  let  them  know  whatever  he  might  discover. 
And  he  did  so,  and  whenever  he  discovered  anything  which 
In-  thought  would  interest  the  children,  he  would  tell  them 
about  it. 

••Arthur's  father,  according  to  the  legends,"  said  their 
father,  "  was  King  of  England,  and  his  name  was  Uther  Peu- 
dragon." 

"  What  a  terrible  name,"  said  Mollie. 

"It  was  indeed,"  said  the  story-teller.  "It  was  meant 
to  be,  for  the  title  Peudragou  signified  in  those  days  that 
he  who  bore  it  was  the  chief  leader  in  war,  which  is  a  ter- 
rible thing.  1'ther  Pendriigcin.  the  King,  married  Ingraiue, 
who  was  beautiful  and  good,  and  Arthur  was  their  son,  but 
tor  some  reason  or  other  it  was  thought  well  that  the  boy 
should  be  brought  up  in  ignorance  of  who  his  parents 
were,  and  on  the  advice  of  Merlin  he  was  sent  away  to  a 


certain  lord  of  Uther's 
land,  one  of  the  noblest 
and  most  faithful  of  his 
day,  who  would  look  care- 
fully after  the  bringing  up 
of  the  child,  and  see  to  it 
that  he  should  become  well 
fitted  in  every  way  for  the 
position  he  was  some  day 
to  occupy.  Merlin  had 
looked  into  the  future,  and 
had  seen  that  Arthur  would 
grow  to  be  a  better  man  if 
he  were  kept  away  from 
his  father's  court,  where  in 
all  probability  every  one 
would  have  flattered  and 
spoiled  him,  and  lead  him 
to  believe  that  he  was  a 
much  finer  fellow  than  he 
really  was.  So  Arthur  was 
sent  to  Sir  Ector,  who 
brought  him  up  as  his  own 
son.  and  no  one  hut  the 
King  and  Queen  and  Merlin 
really  knew  that  he  was  a 
Prince,  and  would  some  day 
become  King  of  England." 
"I'm  glad  they  don't  do 
things  that  way  nowadays. 
I'd  hate  to  be  brought  up 
by  one  of  the  neighbors 
without  knowing  that  you 
were  my  papa." 

"  Must  have  been  worse  than  going  to  boarding-school," 
said  Mollie. 

"Well,  however  that  may  be."  said  the  story-teller, "  it 
was  a  good  thing  for  Arthur,  for  he  was  well  brought  up, 
and  he  made  a  good  friend  in  Sir  Ector's  sou  Kaye,  with 
whom  he  spent  most  of  his  time,  and  whom  he  believed  to 
be  his  brother,  and  when  Uther  died  and  it  became  neces- 
sary to  put  some  one  in  his  place,  he  made  his  claims  to  the 
office  of  King  much  greater  by  having  to  prove  that  he  was 
fitted  for  it,  not  so  much  because  of  the  fact  that  he  was 
Uther's  sou,  which  some  ill-natured,  jealous  Princes  who 
wanted  to  be  King  said  he  was  not,  but  because  of  his  won- 
derful prowess, 'which  he  showed  when  the  time  came.  It 
was  but  two  years  after  Arthur  was  born  that  King  Uther 
was  taken  sick,  and  all  the  rebellious  lords  in  his  kingdom 
thought  that  the  time  had  come  for  them  to  rise  up  against 
him,  but  Merlin  went  to  the  King  and  told  him  that  even 
though  he  was  ill  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  go  out  and 
fight  the  enemy,  and  Uther,  sick  as  he  was,  went  into  the 
battle  carried  on  a  litter  and  took  command  of  his  forces. 
Aided  by  two  splendid  knights,  who  were  among  his  closest 
friends,  Sir  Ulfius  and  Sir  Brastias,  Uther  fought  a  gv-eat 
battle  at  St.  Albans  with  the  forces  from  the  North,  in 
which  he  was  victorious,  and  after  which  he  returned  to 
London.  Here  within  a  short  while  he  died,  first  having 
gathered  his  Barons  about  him,  and  at  the  suggestion  of 
Merlin  proclaimed  his  son  Arthur  his  successor.  Then,  as 
the  chronicles  tell,  the  kingdom  was  in  great  danger  for  a 
long  time.  Years  passed,  and  all  the  lords  who  were  strong 
and  possessed  of  small  armies  of  their  own  wished  to  make 
themselves  King,  and  doubtless  one  of  them  would  have 
succeeded  had  it  not  been  for  Merlin,  who,  when  Arthur 
had  become  old  enough  to  make  his  plans  possible,  went  to 
the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  and  persuaded  him  to  sum- 
mon all  the  lords  and  gentlemen  at  arms  to  appear  in  Lou- 
don  on  Christmas  eve.  Now  these  men  all  stood  in  great 
fear  of  the  Archbishop,  because  the  Archbishop  stood  for 
the  Church,  and  not  one  of  them  dared  disobey.  So  Christ- 
mas eve  found  them,  one  and  all,  gathered  in  London  as 
Merlin  had  wished,  for  Merlin  hoped,  in  the  words  of  the 
legend,  that,  gathered  on  Christmas  eve,  the  lords  of  the 
kingdom  might  by  some  miracle  from  Heaven  be  shown 
who  should  become  the  rightful  King  of  England,  in  which 
hope  he  was  not  disappointed,  as  you  will  shortly  see." 


584 


INTERSCHOL^STIC 


£      ; 


••  •»-  •• *  - 


THE  DATE  OF  THE  DUAL  GAMES  Between  Andover  and 
Worcester  Academies  has  been  definitely  set  for  next 
Saturday,  and  the  arrangements  have  been  put  in  charge  of 
Colonel  Sain  Winslow,  who  was  Captain  of  the  champion 
Harvard  nine  of  1885.  These  games,  which  were  spoken  of 
in  greater  detail  in  this  Department  last  week,  will  take 
place  in  Worcester  on  the  same  day  the  Western  Massa- 
chusetts I.S.A.A.  will  hold  its  annual  track  and  field  meet- 
ing oil  Pratt  Field,  Ainherst.  From  the  interest  already 
manifest  the  latter  should  be  the  most  interesting  and  profit- 
able sports  ever  held  in  that  section.  Monsou  Academy  has 
won  the  championship  for  the  past  three  years,  but  the  other 
schools  of  the  League  have  now  determined  to  make  a  des- 
perate effort  to  change  the  established  order  of  things.  My 
opinion  is  that  they  will  succeed,  and  that  the  pennant 
will  go  either  to  Chicopee  or  to  Springfield.  It  will  be  no 
walk  over  in  any  case,  for  the  Atnhcrst,  Westfield,  and  Hoi- 
yoke  High-schools  have  strong  men,  and  will  make  a  good 
showing  both  on  the  track  and  iii  the  field. 

THK  100- YARD  DASH  has  always  been  a  hard-fought  race, 
and  this  year  it  will  be  closer  than  ever.  E.  J.  Murphy,  of 
Springfield  H.-S.,  will  probably  win,  however,  with  Schuto 
of  Westfield  second,  and  Phillips  of  Monsou  third.  The 
same  men  will  dispute  the  places  iu  the  220.  Kennedy  of 
Spiiugfield  H.-S.  ought  to  take  the  quarter,  although  he 
will-uot,  by  any  means,  have  an  easy  victory,  for  Schute,  in 
spite  of  his  many  previous  heats  in  the  dashes,  will  run 
hard.  Thayer  of  Holyoke  is  a  pretty  sure  winner  in  the 
half-mile.  In  practice  he  has  covered  the  distance  in  2.07, 
and  I  feel  confident  that  he  can  do  better  in  public.  Christy 
of  Monson  is  the  best  mau  for  the  mile.  Last  year  he  ran 
iu  4  min.  38  sec.  on  time,  but  injured  his  ankle  just  previous 
to  the  I.S.A.A.  meeting,  and  then  covered  the  distance  iu  4 
mill.  5f>  sec.  Shea  of  Chicopee  H.-S.  has  covered  19  feet  iu 
broad  jumping,  and  ought  to  win  that  event  Saturday. 
Scott  ofWesttield  H.-S.  will  take  the  high  jump,  and  ought 

Maltia,  1.  f.        Cadwnlnder,  3J  b.     Haatie,  r.  f.        Rigliter.  2d  b. 


Slidell,  c.  f.  Ross,  Ut  b. 

McGibbon,  s.s.  Kafer,  c.  (Capt.)  Arrott,  p. 

LAWRENCEV1LLE  BASEBALL    NINE. 


GERMANTOWN    ACADEMY    BASEBALL   NINE. 


to  clear  at  a  good  figure,  as  he  did  5  ft.  7^  in.  in-doors  last 
winter.  The  pole  vault  will  furnish  a  hot  struggle  between 
Smith  of  Springfield  H.-S.,  Bryant  of  Chicopee  H.-S.,  Austin 
of  Monson  Academy,  and  Scott.  The  winner  will  have  to 
go  10  feet,  and  I  should  not  wonder  if  the  best  performance 
even  exceeded  that  mark. 

THE  WESTERN  MASSACHUSETTS  ASSOCIATION,  in  addition 
to  a  one-mile  bicycle  race,  has  a  half-mile  event  for  the 
wheelmen,  and  Elmer  of  Chicopee  H.-S.  is  expected  to  fiu- 
ish  first  iu  both  of  these.  Sullivan  of  Hol- 
yoke H.-S.  and  Pike  of  Springfield  H.-S.  will 
get  places.  In  the  hurdles,  Phillips  of  Monson 
and  Baker  of  Ainherst  are  about  even,  and 
their  race  will  be  as  exciting  a  contest  as  the 
day  will  afford.  They  will  be  closely  pushed 
by  Barry  of  Chicopee  H.-S.  and  Stiler  of  West- 
field  :H.-S.,  both  of  whom  arc  strong  runners 
and  clever  at  clearing  the  sticks.  In  the 
weight  events  the  Monson  men  will  try  to 
maintain  the  record  they  established  by  win- 
ning first  place,  iu  both  for  the  past  five  years. 
Austin  has  put  the  shot  nearly  35  ft.,  and  may 
do  better,  but  he  will  have  formidable  rivals 
iu  O'Connor  of  Holyoke  H.-S.,  Spence  of  C'hic- 
opee  H.-S.,  and  Winslow  of  Ainherst  H.-S.,  all 
of  whom  can  do  better  than  30  ft.  But  Chisem 
will,  beyond  a  doubt,  take  the  hammer  event, 
with  O'Connor  second,  and  Bush  of  Westlielil 
H.-S.  third. 

THE  CHAMPIONSHIP  OF  THE  Pennsylvania  In- 
ter-academic Baseball  League  was  decided  on 
Friday,  May  24th,  when  Germautowu  Acade- 
my defeated  the  Cheltenham  Military  Acade- 
my nine  at  Steuton.  This  is  the  second  con- 
secutive time  that  the  Germantowu  team  ha& 
taken  the  pennant  with  a  clean  record  of  vic- 
tories, and  this  last  victory  of  theirs  is  all  t he- 
more  creditable  because  of  the  strength  of  the 
opposing  team.  The  feature  of  the  players' work 
the  past  season  has  been  the  pitching  and  bat- 


585 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


ting  of  McCarty,  the  fielding  of  Captain  Sharpe  at  short- 
stop, and  the  strong  batting  of  the  entire  nine.  All  their 
victories  have  been  won  by  heavy  hitting  at  opportune 
moments.  On  Friday  especially  McCarty  distinguished 
himself.  In  addition  to  making  three  hits  that  were  fac- 
tors in  the  victory,  he  struck  out  fifteen  of  the  Cheltenham 
batters.  Lamberton,  who  was  in  the  box  for  the  soldiers, 
also  pitched  a.  good  game,  but  lie  was  so  poorly  supported 
at  times  that  his  work  did  not  count  for  much. 

THE  PENNSYLVANIA  INTERSCHOLASTIC  championship  hav- 
ing been  settled,  there  now  remains  the  New  England 
championship,  the  decisive  game  of  which  will  lie  played 
iuBostou  on  Friday,  and  the  Inter-City  championship  of  the 
N.Y.  and  Long  Island  I.  S.  B.  B.  Associations,  which  will  be 
decided  at  Eastern  Park  on  Saturday. 

ANOTHER  IMPORTANT  AND  DECISIVE  baseball  game  will 
be  the  Andover-Lawrenceville  match  at  Andover  a  week 
from  to-morrow.  This  will  be  the,  third  annual  contest  be- 
tvieen  these  two  big  schools,  and  I  am  glad  to  record  that 
neither  niiie  just  now  is  burdened  with  over-confidence. 
Audover  won  the  first  two  matches  of  the  series,  by  the 
scores  of  5-4,  iu  1893,  and  5-2,  in  1894.  This  year,  however, 
the  teams  are  so  nearly  matched  that  it  is  hardly  possible 
to  forecast  the  result  of  next  week's  game.  Of  last  year's 
Andover  players  only  three  have  returned  to  school,  the 
rest  of  the  nine  being  new  players,  with  whom  Captain 
Drew  has  labored  bard  and  conscientiously  to  develop  a 
winning  team.  But  with  Drew  behind  the  bat,  and  Greeu- 
way  or  Sedgwick  in  the  box,  P.  A.  lias  a  batten  that  it 
will  be  hard  to  find  the  equal  of  on  any  school  baseball 
team.  The  infield,  however,  is  weak.  Barton,  at  first, 
plays  well,  but  should  cover  more  territory,  and  have  more 
confidence  in  himself.  For  a  man  of  his  small  stature 
Harkercovers  second  in  pretty  good  style,  but  both  lie  and 
Elliott,  at  third,  are  erratic  and  somewhat  unreliable  at 
critical  moments.  Edwards  lias  taken  Davis's  place  at 
short  for  the  past  week  or  two,  and  has  proved  equal  to 
Captain  Drew's  most  .sanguine,  expectations.  Lawreuce- 
ville  need  not  count  on  any  base  bits  through  liis  territory, 
as  his  fielding  is  clean  and  his  throwing  sure.  The  out- 
field is  much  stronger  than  the  infield.  Dayton  at  centre, 
and  Greenway  or  Sedgwick  at  left,  are  sure  catchers  and 
strong  throwers.  Waddell,  at  right,  is  the  best  man  in  the 
position  that  P. A.  has  had  for  years,  covering  all  his  own 
territory  and  part  of  his  neighbors',  and  throwing  with  the 
precision  of  a  veteran.  Several  times  this  year  he  has 
thrown  men  out  at  the  plate  who  were  running  home  from 
third  after  a  fly  caught  in  deep  right  field.  As  for  batting, 
the  Andover  players  have  only  fair  ability,  Green  way,  Sedg- 
wick,  Barton,  and  Drew  being  the  heaviest  hitters.  The 
team  work  I  consider  poor,  but  this  will  doubtless  be  greatly 
improved  before  the  day  of  the  game. 

AT  LAWRENCEVII.LE  the  natural  opportunities  for  prac- 
tice and  for  the  perfection  of  team-work  are  no  greater 
than  at  Arfdover,  but  the  school  system  is  such  that  fine 
ball  players  are  a  necessary  result  of  its  enforcement. 
Every  scholar  at  the  Lawrenceville  School,  unless  physi- 
cally disabled,  must  play  ball  for  at  least  an  hour  every 
day  in  the  spring-time.  In  the  autumn  everybody  has  to 
play  football.  In  this  manner  no  man  goes  without  exer- 
cise, and  the  best  material  at  baud  is  discovered  and  de- 
veloped. When  I  was  at  Lawreuceville  last  week,  nine 
diamonds  were  in  full  operation  at  one  and  the  same  time. 
In  the  fall  there  are  eleven  football  fields  iu  nse  daily.  No 
wonder  Lawreuceville  sends  good  material  to  the  colleges. 

As  FOB  THE  TEAM  this  year,  it  is  about  up  to  the  average 
of  former  seasons.  Kafer,  who  has  been  catching  for  three 
years,  is  Captain,  and  is  doing  very  satisfactory  work.  His 
batting  is  sometimes  erratic,  but  in  a  recent  game  with 
I'ennington  he  lined  out  a  home  run  with  the  bases  full  in 
the  ninth  inning,  thus  saving  the  day,  as  the  score  then 
.-tood  4  to  1  agaiust  l.a\\  ivnceville.  Arrott,  the  pitcher, 
is  doing  well  for  his  second  year  in  baseball.  He  has 
not  very  full  control  of  the  ball,  but  his  curves  arc  >_ i. 


and  he  possesses  more  than  the  average  speed.  In  ad- 
dition to  this,  he  keeps  cool  and  plays  a  steadier  game 
as  the  innings  go  by.  Ross,  Righter,  and  Cadwalader 
cover  the  bases,  and  so  far  this  season  Ross  has  main- 
tained the  highest  average,  scarcely  making  an  error. 
Righter  is  a  poor  thrower,  but  his  hatting  is  very  strong. 
With  a  little  longer  experience  Cadwalader  will  develop 
into  one  of  the  best  men  on  the  team,  and  if  he  can  get  otf 
some  of  his  200  pounds  of  flesh  his  running  would  be  vastly 
bettered.  McGibbon,  at  short,  is  a  clean  fielder  and  an  ac- 
curate thrower;  iu  addition,  lie  bats  well.  He  and  Ed- 
wards of  Audover  will  no  doubt  furnish  some  grand-stand 
plays  for  the  delectation  of  their  followers.  The  fielders 
are  only  of  average  ability.  As  a  whole,  the  nine  seems  to 
fall  out  of  harmony  in  almost  every  game,  and  on  se\<;ial 
occasions  this  weakness  has  almost  proved  disastrous.  But 
most  of  the  players  are  new  men  this  year,  and  will  be  bet- 
ter seasoned  a  week  from  now. 

IN  SPITE  OF  THE  HEAVY  rain  -storm  of  May  18th  the 
Princeton  Intersoholastic  Tennis  Tournament  was  held  at 
Princeton,  resulting  in  the  championship  remaining  at 
Lawreuceville.  Several  of  the  contestants  failed  to  appeal- 
on  account  of  the  bad  weather,  but  the  playing  was  never- 
theless spirited  and  exciting.  In  the  finals,  lieaman  of 
Lawrenceville  met  his  schoolmate  Richards,  who  bad  won 
by  default  from  Kobb,  and  defeated  him  only  after  five, 
hard  sets,  6-2,  3-G,  9-11,  6-2,  and  6-0.  By  virtue  of  lira 
man's  victory  the  championship  silver  cup  now  becomes 
the  permanent  property  of  Lawrenceville. 

SCHOLASTIC  TRACK  AND  FIELD  meetings  are  being  held  iu 
so  main  ditici.-nt  places  just  at  this  season  that  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  Keep  account  of  them.  On  May  25th  the  New  York 
State  I.S.A.A.  met  on  the  Syracuse  University  Field  under 
the  auspices  of  the  Syracuse  High-School  and  the  Cornell 
A.t '..  and  the  Ithaca  High-School  won  by  making  :!1  points. 
Her  nearest  rivals  were  Rochester  High  with  21,  and  Buf- 
falo High  with  18-J-  points.  Seven  schools  were  represented. 
At  the  first  spring  meet  of  the  Hotchkiss  School,  Lakeville, 
there  were  some  good  records  made.  Dyer  won  the  100  in  10J 
sec.,  and  the  220  in  23  sec. ;  Sanford  covered  the  mile  in  5  m. 
22-5  sec.;  Hixon  cleared  5  ft.  4J-in.  in  the  high  jump:  and 
Conner  covered  20  ft.  10  in.  iu  the  broad  .jump.  The  Hotch- 
kiss athletes  will  no  doubt  be  heard  from  at  the  Connecti- 
cut I.S.A.A.  games  on  Saturday. 

As  HAS  BEEN  THE  CASE  with  a  number  of  Eastern  field 
days,  rain  interfered  with  the  success  of  the  California 
Academic  Athletic  League's  meeting  on  May  4th,  and  tew 
of  the  athletes  were  able  to  do  good  work.  Dawson  ran 
the  quarter  in  one  minute  flat  on  a  heavy  track.  McC'on- 
ncll  cleared  18  ft.  6  in.  in  the  broad  jump, and  gui  a  bad 
scare  from  Cooley,  a  new  man,  untrained,  who  came  dan- 
gerously close  to  him.  Cooley  will  show  up  well  next? 
year,  and  would,  no  doubt,  have  done  better  if  the  condi- 
tions had  been  more  favorable.  The  Oakland  High-School 
and  Sail  Jose  High-School  held  a  fifty-mile  bicycle  road 
race,  relay,  last  week,  of  which  I  hope  to  be  able  to  speak 
more  in  detail  as  soon  as  space  is  available.  It  was  an  ex- 
citiug  event,  and  is  a  good  thing  for  Eastern  bicycle-riders 
to  think  of,  for  there  are  many  places  in  the  neighborhood 
of  New  York,  Boston,  Philadelphia,  Hartford,  and  other 
cities  where  similar  races  might  be  arranged. 

ALTHOUGH  BASEBALL  seemed  to  languish  in  the  early 
part  of  the  season,  the  A.A.L.  completed  a  successful  sched- 
ule on  May  18th,  when  the  Oakland  High-School  defeated 
the  Alameda  University  Academy  9  to  1.  The  O.  H.-S.  team 
started  out  strongly,  and  had  the  reputation  of  the  '94  nine 
clinging  to  it,  '94'»  phners  having  been  the  strongest  ama- 
teur team  of  California  that  year.  Hall  at  first,  Lanyon  in 
the'box,  and  McCalie  behind  the  bat,  were  the  steadiest 
players  this  season.  Lanyon  caught  last  year,  and  is  cool. 
strategic,  and  quick.  He  has  good  speed  and  good  curves, 
and  safe  control  of  the  ball.  McCabe  is  a  very  calm  player, 
bats  well,  but  is  weak  in  throwing  to  bases.  The  team 
work  of  the.  nine  was  good,  and  iu  several  cases  won  them 
games  against  stronger  teams. 


586 


HAKPEE'S   KOUND   TABLE 


As  SOON  AS  THE  REGULAR  luterscholastic 
League  season  of  baseball,  tennis,  track  ath- 
letics, anil  cricket  closes  there  will  be  more 
time  to  devote  to  other  branches  of  sport. 
During  the  summer  mouths  tennis,  rowing, 
swimming,  anil  sailing  will  receive  their 
share  of  attention  in  this  Department,  and 
from  the  looks  of  things  just  now  there  is 
every  promise  that  yachting  anil  small-boat 
racing  will  be  more  popular  this  year  than 
ever  before.  .  Many  of  the  large  clubs  have 
introduced  special  classes  on  their  racing 
programmes.  In  addition  to  the  Larch- 
tii'ini  21-footers  and  34-raters,  the  Sea \van- 
haka's  Inilf-raters,  and  the  Douglaston  ilin- 
gies,  the  Indian  Harbor  Yacht  Club  are  now 
trying  to  promote  a  '20-foot  racing  length, 
or  one-rater  class.  The  imported  boats  liiiri- 
and  Shriinii  will  form  a  good  nucleus  to  start 
with,  and  I  understand  that  several  nii-inbcix 
of  the  club  have  promised  to  build  racers 
of  this  class. 

PROBABLY  THE  MOST  INTERESTING  and 
exciting  contests  in  the  small-boat  class  will 
be  the  sharpie  races  of  the  Shelter  Island 
Sharpie  Club.  This  club  was  organized  two 
years  ago  with  about  twenty  members,  and 
has  grown  rapidly  in  size  and  popularity. 
A  regular  race  is  sailed  every  week  over  a 
club  course  of  live  miles,  and  three  races 
are  sailed  around  Shelter  Island  during  the 
season,  a  distance  of  twenty -five  miles. 

n-M'  races  are  always  most  exciting,  for 
the  bnats  are  limited  to  l(i  ft.  on  the  water- 
line,  with  no  limit  to  the  sail  area.  Conse- 
Iqnently  some  of  them  get  over-rigged,  and 
an  occasional  upset  adds  zest  to  the  sport. 
'In  addition  to  these  races  the  Sharpie  Club 
molds  athleticgames,  including,  amongother 
events,  swimming,  rowing,  weight  -  throw- 
ing, etc.,  and  at  the  end  of  the  season  medals 
are  awarded  to  the  best  all-round  athletes. 
Last  year  the  sharpie  Frolic,  owned  by  S.M. 
and  G.  H.  Milliken,  won  the  highest  number 
of  points,  with  the  t.'liip-l'hip,  owned  by  II. 
V.  Whitney,  and  the  Mary  Jane,  owned  by 
A.  E.  Whitney,  tied  for  second  place.  In 
the  athletic  events  H.  V.  Whitney  took  lirst, 
with  W.  B.  Cowperthwait  second. 

THE  NEW  ENGLAND  INTEISSCHOLASTIC 
baseball  season  has  thus  far  proved  most 
interesting.  A  number  of  the  games  have 
ilready  required  more  than  nine  innings 
play  to  determine  the  winner, and  so  far  the 
Cambridge  High  and  Latin  nine  has  escaped 
lefeat.  At  the  present  date  of  writing  the 
standing  of  the  clubs  in  the  N.  E.  I.  S.  B. 
League  is : 

fa 
Chibs.  Won.    Lost.        cent. 

Cambridge  Hi^h  and  Latin..  2  o       i.t 

Hopkins..n 3  1  .750 

Boston  Latin  1  1  .5011 

English  High 1  1  .Mm 

Koxbnry  Latin 1  1  .5011 

Somerville  High 0  3  .ijini 

The  Hopkinson  players  received  their 
irst  defeat  on  Friday,  the  17th,  but  they 
'ilayed  a  good  game,  and  showed  the  results 
>f  Joe  Upton's  coaching.  The  batting  es- 
pecially has  improved.  Hopkinson  and  C.H. 
IfcL.  will  have  a  hot  right  for  the  pennant. 
Jakin  of  the  English  High-school  is  pitch- 
ng  up  to  his  old  form  again,  and  held  Som- 
•rville  High  down  to  a  single  hit  in  their 
•ecent  game,  which  E.H.-S.  won  by  the  score 
>f  14  to  1.  But  S.H.-S  is  one  of  the  weakest 


teams  In  the  League.  The  Eoxbury  Latin 
nine  show  want  of  practice,  and  their  only 
redeeming  virtues  just  now  are  the  pitching 
of  Morse  and  their  general  batting  strength. 
But.  the  New  England  school  teams  are  all 
well  provided  with  good  pitchers  this  sea- 
son, so  that  Morse's  proficiency  counts  i'or 
little  when  it  comes  to  a  decisive  contest. 
Team-work,  after  all,  should  be  the  main- 
stay of  every  nine. 


I.v  THE  tabulated  record  of  the  N.Y.I.S.A.A. 

£'• '«  printed  on  p.  538  of  HARPER'S  ROUND 

TABLE  of  May  'Jlxt,  a  typographical  error 
shows  Hackett's  time  in  the  mile  walk  as 
7  min.  -If  sec.  instead  of  7  lain.  4l>?  see., 
which  it  should  be. 

THE  GRADUATE. 


PHILADELPHIA,  PA. 

EIIITOR  OF  Tine  RorNT»  TAIU.K  : 

SIB, — I  noticed  in  the  tii'st  number  of  HAIU-ER'S 
H'M:M>  TAHI.K  a  refercuci-  in  tin-  "  titiii.l  people"  who 
object  to  football.  There  have  been  many  other  re- 
marks of  this  kimi,  at  varinns  times,  made  in  the 
Konnd  Table.  Jf  you  can  grunt  me  a  little  space,  I 
should  like  to  point  out  the  injustice  of  sneers  of  this 
kind. 

In  the  first  place,  in  order  that  it  may  not  be  said 
(as  it  gem-i  ;illy  is  said  when  any  one  lifts  up  his  voice 
against  the  game)  that  I  am  ignorant  of  the  subject, 
I  may  say  that  I  am  a  football  player  myself  in  a 
small  way,  and  until  recently  was  heaitily  in  tavor 
"I1  the  fame.  My  position  is  thus  rather  inconsi-ieiii, 
but  it  is  that  of  many  other  sincere  well-wisbei'8  <*t 
the  game.  The  objection  to  the  game  that  seems  to 
me  most  important  is  its  roughness,  both  necessary 
and  unnecessary.  First  as  to  the  latter.  It  is  all  very 
well  to  say  that  if  players  would  behave  like  gentli- 
nicn,  this  would  he  done  away  with.  This  may  be  so, 
but  it  is  not  in  the  nature  of  hoys  or  men,  in  the  midst 
of  an  exciting  struggle  on  the  gridiron,  to  keep  calm, 
and  control  their  strength  ami  their  temper.  In  their 
excitement  they  will  do  things  that  they  are  sorry  for 
afterwards,  and  I  have  never  seen  anything  proposed 
that  would  prevent  such  things. 

Then  football  as  played  at  present  is  a  game  in 
which  there  is  abundant  opportunity  for  the  natural 
brute  to  display  himself.  It  is  claimed  that  the  game 
teaches  one  to  control  his  temper;  but  I  think  it  just 
as  often  gives  one  an  opportunity  to  vent  it  on  some 
one  else.  The  remedy  proposed  for  this — to  have  sev- 
eral umpires — should  be  repulsive  in  the  extreme  to 
every  true  sportsman.  A  game  in  which  the  players 
have  to  be  watched  lest  they  commit  murder  on  each 
other  is  simply  unfit  for  a  gentleman  to  play.  If  that 
is  to  be  done,  why  not  call  in  the  police  at  ouce,  as 
they  did  iu  the  Yale-Princeton  game  last  fall. 


The  necessary  roughness  of  the  game  is  considered 

by  some  to  be  an  advantage,  in  that  it  teaches  c rage 

and  endurance,  and  develops  the  physique  of  the  play- 
ers. But  is  not  that  a  sort  of  "kill  or  cure  "  HUM  ho.  I? 
Surely  one  can  develop  his  body  without  risking  his 
life!  A  man  or  a  boy  has  no  right  to  risk  lite  ami 
limb  in  a  game  simply  because  if  he  escapes  injury 
he  will  be  more  healthy  than  before.  I  am  not  exag- 
gerating; a  broken  limb,  a  strained  hack,  or  some 
similar  injury,  is  not  such  a  trifling  matter  as  some 
seem  to  think.  To  say  the  least,  it  means  scv.M.-d 
weeks  taken  from  our  work  in  life,  which  is  a  big 
price  to  pay  for  one  afternoon's  tun.  The  develop- 
ment of  our  strength  can  be  procured  in  better  ways 
than  that.  Our  bodies  were  given  to  us  to  be  used, 
M..I  Mi.used. 

That  the  game  is  a  fascinating  one  I  would  be  the 
last  to  deny,  having  played  it  myself.  In  its  present 
state,  however,  I  do  not  see  how  any  one  who  candidly 
anil  lairly  considers  the  arguments  of  the  opponents 
of  the  game  can  hold  to  the  opinion  that  it  is  a  fit 
game  for  school-boys  or  collegians,  without  changes 
of  the  moM  radical  nature. 

In  this  letter,  the  length  of  which  I  hope  you  will 
pardon,  I  have  said  nothing  about  the  other  objections 
to  football  urged  by  many,  for  most  of  these  do  not 
concern  the  actual  game,  and  will  probably  correct 
themselves  in  time;  but  I  wish  to  point  out  that 
snmething  must  be  done  to  rid  the  game  of  its  objec- 
tionable features,  and  also  that  it  is  unjust  and  dis- 
courteous to  those  who  oppose  the  game  from  con- 
scientious motives  to  brand  them  as  weaklings  ami 
cowards.  C.  S.  WOOD,  E.T.F. 


[Mr.  Wood  brings  out  many  interesting  points  In 
his  letter  regarding  football,  and  though  most  of  his 
objections  to  the  game  refer  more  to  intercollegiate 
than  to  intrvs.  hnhistic  football,  still,  to  a  certain  de- 
gree, they  apply  to  both.  We  do  not  deny  that  the 
game  is  rough  and  dangerous;  but  what  was  meant 
in  the  phrase  to  which  Mr.  Wood  refers  was  not  that 
people  are  timid  who  do  not  approve  of  football,  but 
that  those  people  who  say  that  football  is  the  most 
dangerous  game  there  is,  that  it  is  cruel,  that  it  should 
be  stopped  by  law,  that  it  is  worse  than  the  gladia- 
torial combats  of  ancient  Koine,  are  either  timid  or 
not  in  their  right  senses.  Football  is  not  as  rough  as 
polo;  it  is  not  us  dangerous  as  coasting  (as  coasting 
is  now  understood);  it  is  not  as  dangerous  as  cross- 
country riding,  and  the  prngiorlion  of  injuries  in  both 
polo  and  cross-country  riding  is  far  greater  than  those 
in  football.  The  facts  of  the  case  are  that  so  much 
has  been  written  and  so  much  said  implying  that  the 
game  is  necessarily  a  villanous  game,  that  many  peo- 
ple who  know  nothing  about  it  have  grown  to  talk 
about  it,  and  depreciate  it  because  they  fancy  it  con- 
tains injuries  which  it  does  not  contain.  These  peo- 
ple have  done  a  great  deal  to  bring  a  fine  game  for 
boys  into  bad  odor,  and  it  is  to  these,  and  not  to  those 
who  understand  the  game — both  its  good  and  its  bad 
points— that  the  remark  referred  to  was  addressed. — 
THE  Emiou.] 


Highest  of  all  in  Leavening  Power. — Latest  U.  S.  Gov't  Report 


Baking 


Powder 


PURE 


in  I  ^  •WONDER  CABINET  (TREE.  Missing  Link 
I  >V-fr^V>  JI'uizlp,  Devil's  Bottle,  Pocket  Camera,  Uteat 
1  i'  T'  3  IWire  I'»«le.  Spook  Photos,  Book  of  Sleiplitof 
—*-'•*  -K  Hand,  Total  Value  tide.  Sent  free  with  immeni-e 

/»  catalogue  of  1000  Bargaiusfor  Hie.  for  p>slu;e. 

-^INGERSOLL  4  BRO.,  65  Cortlan.lt  Street  H.  Y, 


H 


'  C  thoroughly  revised, 
0  classified,  and  in- 
dexed, will  be  sent  by  mail  to  any  ad- 
dress on  receipt  p  II  T  II  I  f|  O  1 1 
of  ten  cents.  LA  I  AL.UtlU 


E 


587 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


MAP  OF  BROOKLYN 


Asphalt,   Mocadamrzed  and 
Granite  paved    streets. 


,,^.     - 


Copyriglit,  1895,  by  Harper  &  Brothers. 


588 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


BICYCLING 


This  Department  is  con.luctetl  in  tlie  interest  of  Bicyclers,  and  the 
Editor  will  be  pleased  to  answer  any  question  on  the'  subject.  Our 
maps  and  tours  tontiiin  much  valuable  data  kindly  supplied  from  the 
official  maps  and  road-books  of  the  League  of  American  Wheelm.-n 

R uni/ing  the   value  of  the  work   bi>ins  done  by  the   L.  A   \V   the 

Editor  will  be  pleased  to  furnish  subscribers  with  'membership  blanks 
and  information  so  far  as  p«.^l,le. 

THIS  WEEK'S  MAP  explains  itself.  It  is  a 
unique  chart  of  the  city  of  Brooklyn, 
showing  by  black  lines  the  asphalted  or 
macadamized  streets  withiu  the  city  limits. 
and  by  corduroy  lines  those  main  avenues 
which,  though  paved  with  granite  pave- 
ment, are  fair  riding,  aud  which  make  the 
best  exits  from  the  city. 


IN  THE  FIRST  PLACE,  it  should  be  men- 
tioned that  on  Sundays  and  holidays  the 
Kings  County  Elevated  Railroad  of  Brook- 
lyn has  a  car,  or  throws  the  smoking-car 
open,  for  the  use  of  bicyclists,  who,  carrying 
their  wheels  up  the  steps  to  the  station, 
may  put  them  on  the  train,  and  ride  from 
the  Bridge  or  Fulton  Ferry  out  on  Liberty 
Avenue  to  the  city  limits,  from  wheuce  it 
is  good  riding  out  into  Long  Island.  On 
other  days  bicycles  cannot  be  carried  on  the 
elevated  trains  from  Fulton  Ferry  after  3 
I-..M.,  nor  from  East  New  York  before  10  A.M. 

IF  THK  BICYCLIST  INTENDS  to  ride  through 
the  city  from  New  York,  he  should  take  the 
ferry  at  Grand  Street,  and  follow  iu  the  cor- 
dnroy  roads,  and,  leaving  Broadway,  get  into 
Bedford  Avenue.  Bedford  Avenue  carries 
him  on  asphalt  pavement  to  the  Boulevard, 
and  turning  left  into  this,  he  rides  until  he 
strikes  granite  pavement  at  East  New  York 
Avenue.  Turning  again  to  the  left  into 
East  New  York  Avenue,  he  continues  until 
he  reaches  the  fork,  and  then  keeps  to  the 
right  into  Liberty  Avenue,  riding  out  Lib- 
erty Avenue,  and  so  out  of  the  city.  An- 
other course  from  Grand  Street  is  by  ferry 
to  Broadway,  Williamsburg,  which  is  short- 
er but  perhaps  not  so  good  riding,  thence 
out  Broadway  direct  to  Wall  Street,  turn 
left  into  this  and  right  into  Busliwick 
Avenue  to  Jamaica  Avenue,  which  is  a  turn 
to  the  left,  and  is  a  continuation  of  East 
New  York  Avenue,  aud  soon  to  the  left  again 
into  Highland  Boulevard,  which  skirts  along 
the  cemetery,  Highland  Park,  aud  the  Ridge- 
wood  Reservoir.  Th  is  is  somewhat  hilly,  but 
commands  a  beautiful  view  of  the  city  and 
of  Jamaica  Bay  and  the  ocean,  and  is  the 
most  picturesque  way  of  getting  out  of 
Brooklyn.  Continuing  on  the  Highland 
Boulevard,  and  running  down  the  hill  on 
Barbey  Street,  which  is  very  steep,  he  conies 
again  into  Jamaica  Avenue,  and  may  keep 
on  this,  which  is  not  very  good  riding,  but 
nevertheless  carries  him  out  of  Brooklyn 
towards  Jamaica.  The  most  direct  route 
out  of  the  city  is,  of  course,  on  Jamaica  Ave- 
nue. The  Highland  Avenue  detour  is  hilly, 
and  aftords  an  opportunity  for  the  rider  to 
get  a  good  view  of  the  city. 


NnTR.  —  Map  of  New  York  city  asphalted  streets  in 
NIL  -Mill.  Mu|i  of  route  from  New  York  to  Tarrytowu 
in  NIL  sin.  New  York  to  Stamford,  Connecticut,  in 
No.  811.  New  York  to  St.iten  Island  in  No.  812.  New 
Jersey,  from  Hobokeu  to  Fine  Brook  in  No.  813. 


EVERYTHING. CONSIDERED,  HOWEVER,  for 
any  one  who  is  down -town  in  New  York 
city,  or  «  ho  lives  in  the  central  part  of 
Brooklyn  proper,  decidedly  the  best  method 
is  to  take  the  Kings  County  Elevated  as  de- 
scribed aliove^  and,  on  the  whole,  this  is 
the  better  plan  also  for  any  one  going  from 
New  Y'ork,  for  the  only  other  route  from 
Thirty-fourth  Street  down  is  by  the  Thirty- 
fourth  Street  ferry,  thence  to  Manhattan 
Avenue,  after  going  two  blocks  from  the 
ferry-house,  turning  right  and  crossing  New- 
town  Creek.  Thence  turn  left  into  Driggs 
Avenue,  and  run  a  block  and  a  half  to  Eweu 
Street,  and  from  there  on  into  Broadway, 
and  so  as  described.  There  is  no  way  in 
which  a  Brooklynite  can  ride  out  into  Long 
Island  without  going  over  souie  granite 
pavement,  since  the  only  asphalted  or  mac- 
adamized road  is  the  Boulevard,  running 
from  the  circle  at  the  eutrauce  of  Prospect 
Park  to  East  New  York  Avenue.  After  going 
beyond  the  city  limits  on  Liberty  Avenue 
the  road  is  better,  but  this  will  be  described 
in  the  Long  Island  maps  which  are  to  be 
published  in  this  Department. 

THEKE  AKE,-  HOWEVER,  in  the  city  of 
Brooklyn  many  pleasant  rides  for  an  after- 
noon which  are  almost  entirely  on  asphalted 
or  macadamized  roads.  For  example,  using 
the  map,  any  rider  from  Brooklyn  Heights, 
or  a  New-Yorker  crossing  the  Bridge  or  Ful- 
ton Ferry,  may  easily  get  to  the  circle  at 
Prospect  Park  by  keeping  on  asphalted 
roads  to  the  south  aud  west  of  Fulton  Ave- 
nue. For  example,  on  leaving  Fulton  Ferry, 
the  rider  should  make  for  Hicks  Street  by 
the  shortest  route,  turning  thence  left,  keep- 
ing to  asphalt  pavement,  until  he  reaches 
(Continued  on  page  591.) 


FALSE  ECONOMY 

is  practised  by  people  who  buy  inferior  articles  of 
fond.  The  Gail  Bordeu  Bade  Brand  Condensed  Milk 
is  the  best  infant  food.  Infant  Health  it?  the  title  of  a 
valuable  pamphlet  for  mothers.  Sent  free  by  New 
York  Condensed  Milk  Co.,  New  York.— [Adv.] 


MONARCH 


King  of  all  Bicycles. 


•1  KAlilL-MARK. 

Five  Styles.    Weights,  18  to  25  Pounds. 
Prices,  $85  and  $100. 

MONARCH    CYCLE   CO. 

Factory  and  Main  Office,  Lake  and  Haleted  Sts. ,  Chicago. 

Eastern  Branch :    79  Reade  St.  &  97  Chambers  St. ,  N^Y. 

The  C.  F.  GUVON  Co.,  Ltd.,  Managers. 

589 


Children's  Wear 

A.,  C.  &   CO.  will  offer   fhe  Balance 
of  their 

CHILDREN'S   IMPORTED 

WOOL, 

GINGHAM,  LAWN, 
AND  BATISTE  DRESSES 

At  Greatly  Reduced  Prices 


JdtooAvaii  c\j 


NEW     YORK. 


The  price  has  nothing   to  do 
with  the 

FIT 


For  ALL  of  Dr.  Warner's  Cor- 
sets are  fitted  to  living  models. 

Prices  from  one  to  six  dollars  each. 


Stamps, 


UAH/  A  II  lc-  2c--'2c-  4c.,Sc.  8c.,10c.  15c.,  25C. 
lUl/UUII  :)r>c  •  •'"  "niised;  100  fine  varieties 
1  stamps,  12c.  ;  1000  mixed  U.  S.,  25c.  ; 
5  vnr.  obsolete  Postage  Due,  lOc.  ;  $20  Confederate 
Bill,  lOc.  ;  5  foreign  coin*,  15c.  :  5  different  U.  S. 
Cuppers,  15C,  F.  J.  STAKTON,  Norwich,  N.  IT. 


CTAIW1DC  I  BOO  fine  mixed  Victoria.  Cape  of  C. 
OlHIVIrO  •'  H.,  India,  Japan,  etc.,  with  fine  Stamp 

All.iim,  only  JOc.  New  Bo-p.  Price  -  list  free. 
.-lueu.'s  it.uiteJ  at  f>«$  commission.  STANDARD 
STAMP  CO..  4  Nicholson  Place,  St.  Louis,  Mo.  Old 
U.  S.  and  Confederate  Stamps  bought. 

100  all  dif.  Venezuela,  Costa  Rica,  etc.,  only 
|Tfl|    lOc.;  200  :.ll  tlif.Hnyli, Hawaii, etc., only  50c. 
Ag'tn  wanted ai 50 per  ct com.   List  FREE! 
C.A.Stegiii«nii,'2Ti"2EadsAv.,St.Louis,iIo. 

var.,  all  dif.,  5c.;  12  var.   Heligoland, 

15c.;  6  var.  Itnly,  1S5S  to!S62,  5c.;  3  var. 

Hanover,  5c.;  3Svar.  ( ',  Aim-ncim,  r»l)c.  A^euis  wanted. 
F.  \\.   Ml],l,l,i;.  004  Olive  St.,  St.  Louis,  Mo. 


BOYS&filRLS 

DU  I  W     UlllLw 


ARE  MADE 

byMffldinetlw 


U  postal  card  to  BOORMA.N  &  PARKER,  17:!.  5th  AVE.,  Chicago. 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


IRouuD  liable  Chapters. 

No.  71-'  —The  r.n-y  life  Chapter,  of  Readington, 
N..T.  Ivhvin  Itusve.l  opie.  Readington. 

No.  '!:).— The   Iliirry  Harper   Chapter,  of  New- 
toivn.  I'.pim      officers  are  Agnes  E.  Platt,  Samuel 
1:    Bi  iwn,  Carrie  Jonas,  Frank  Andrews,  John  O. 
:   Malje]  E.  Morris.  Xewiown. 

N.I.  711  The  Active  Athletic  clul..  "ft'tica,  N.Y. 
Albert  II  (lain •I.1ii4  r.leeeker  Street. 

N.i.  715. — The  Allen  Chapter,  of  Alleutown,  Pa. 
i  I  i  lulu  T.  lieno,  Allentown. 

10.— The  George   Washington   Chapter,  of 
Troy,  N.  Y.     George  P.  Paul,  834  River  Street. 

No.  717.— The  Knights  Outing  Chapter,  of  Daven- 
liorr,  Iowa.  Ned  C.  Crossett,  30'j  Mississippi  Ave- 
iiue. 

No.  7IH— The  General  (I  O.  Howard  Chapter,  of 
Philadelphia,  Pa.  Members  art'  Marcella,  Hanley, 
and  Norman  Dale,  Bella  Moorehead,  Mary  Moore, 
'..•"i:,'.-  oliphant,  Fl'ank  (Garrison,  Amy  Hamilton, 
.Ii.i.n  sti-liz  I  'ha  pi  ei  address,  Charles  C.  Oliphant, 
Girard  I  'ollege,  Philadelphia. 

No.  719.—  The  Basle  Social  Club,  of  New  York 
city.  Max  Epstein,  Paul  Gumsberg;  Abe  Sandier, 
10  Pitt  Street. 


A  Mixed  Mickron's  "S  A." 

Here  is  something  quite  nm-el.  Each  word  or 
syllable  in  this  "S  A"  is  n  letter  of  the  Greek,  Ger- 
man, or  English  alphabet,  or  the  numerals — English 
pronunciation— IVoin  1  to  in.  It  u'lates  a  very  excit- 
ing udventtl t  a  family  at  the  sea-sln.re.  When  a 

letter  i-  i- n   in  p.in-inh.-i-  it   is  plural,  thus:   tc)  — 
H-i/.'.  anil  ^i)  —  peas.     ( 'an  vim  read  it '! 

"<>!'';  1, 1  is  "  n  yr  4  a  v  a|>  Kt,  Lr,  Cc,  Fe,  Ln,  T)j, 
.T\.  [\.  Pt,  n  Mind  n,  n  MI  n  I'l  judo  o1  d  1) !" 

"G  !,u  r  2  re.    Q  2  p  4  a  f  n  ,,  11  d  (i !  " 

"  U  uv  1    U  p  o\)  I   PI  w,  u  u'l  d(c)— o  !"  . . . 

Kt,  I..-,  L'C,   Fe,   Ln,  T>  .Ix,  Ix,  Pt,  n   Mnul  CUT! 

-  ',l|b,    I  ,-a  -!   -!   -r'.-   t  -. 

"O,  0  !"  J  I.  "I  u  u'l  b  in' in!  O.K.!  I  C,  I'l  04 
ru:  lll'l  a  (p)  u  !" 

"let!"  j  Kt  !!.  "I  c  (pi!"  '-I  c  vl!'1  "I  cat  i-l!" 
"1  i-  a  fr '." 

"O,  u  !    I'l  b  nit,  I  c,yl  u 

"Xlnt  !"  ;  Kt  a. 

"I  .1  114  10  (i),  vl,  tl,  t,  n  (p)!"  jj  I. 
. 

"T,  u  ume!    Ion  fl — c  !" 
i     ;  p  '.    I'l  a{q)  u,  u  n'l  b  n  jl — c  !" 

"I'l  p  u,  u  »1  t)P'-"  3  I.  "U  fi  P,Jx,b  4  n  r  b  10 
ei> !" 

Yl  .I\  (p)  I  <;/!  line.    2  lev  8  Mnul  s(a)— 

"  U  TT  d,  i  d,  i  d,  u  IT  d,  u  77-  d,  u  IT  d,  i  d,  i  d,  u  TT  d, 
i'd(c)'!"  UPTON  B.  SINOLAIU,  Jr. 


Stamps  and  the  School  Fund. 

ral  members  have  kindly  offered  to  sell  s.inie 
stamps  in  aid  of  the  School  Fund,  and  the  Table 
thanks  them-  The  Dorchester  Exchange,  W.  ,1. 
Paul  Sweeney,  comer  iiijjh  and  Highland  streets, 
iMr. -Sestet-.  Mass.,  has  good  facilities,  and  so  we 

'  that  others  co-operate  with  it.  Its  offers 
are  two:  1,  It  will  Rive  to  the  Fund  the  ten  per 
cent,  commission  on  all  stamps  sold  to  members 
during  July  and  up  to  August  15th,  and  S,  It  will 

i  the  Fund  the  entire  proceeds  of  the  sale  of 
all  stamps  contributed  by  members  to  be  sold  for 
Said  purp.ise. 

Exchange  rules  are  easily  complied  with, 
and  may  be  had  on  application.-enclosing  self  ad- 

'  and  two-cent  stamped  envelope.  .Mem- 
l>er<  who  may  want  to  purchase,  stamps  to  aid  the 
Fund,  and  members  who  may  be  willing  to  COM- 
tribute  a  tew  stamps  t.i  lie  sold  for  the  Fund,  are 

•  -.ml  addresses  and  stamps  to  us  as  cat-h- 
as p.issjlilt- .  i  -, nit  rl hill e.t  stamps  should  be  neatly 
mounted,  and  the  price  plainly  marked  in  ink 
under  each  Send  not  later  than  .lime  '.'.MIi  t.i 
IlAUl'Eli's  l;.n  MI  TAIH.K,  New  York,  and  put  in  the 
lower  left-hand  e.irner  ot  the  envelope  the  words. 
"For  Stamp  Department."  The  Table  warmly 
thanks  Sir  Knights  Lantie  V.  Blum  and  Claude  T. 
Reno  for  their  offers  in  this  direction,  and  begs 
them  to  help  under  this  arrangement  Let's  have 
a  big  list  nf  names  ot  possible  IHIMTS  and  as  many 

lUtions  as  possible.     All  who  help  in  this 


way  shall  have  their  names  on  the  Fund  Honor 
Roll,  to  be  published  and  preserved  in  the  Good 
Will  Building. 


"The  Wheelman's  Hecca." 

Springfield  is  a  flourishing  city'  of  50,000  inhabi- 
tants, and  is  situated  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Con- 
necticut Hiver  a  few  miles  above  the  Connecticut 
State  line.  It  was  first  settled  by  a  brave  trader, 
William  Pynchon.and  became  a  city  in  1852.  The 
largest  United  States  arsenal  is  situated  here  and 
gives  employment  to  many  men. 

The  river  is  spanned  by  four  bridges,  and  at  one 
point  is  1136  feet  wide.  The  last  battle  of  Shays's 
Rebellion  was  fought  here,  and  the  spot  is  marked 
by  a  monument.  Springfield  takes  great  pride  in 
her  schools,  which  are  among  the  finest  in  Massa- 
chusetts. In  a  few  months  electric  cars  will  be 
running  to  the  "Paper  City" — Holyoke,  which  is 
nearly  as  large  a  city  as  Springfield.  Forest  Park 
is  the  summer  breathing-place  of  the  city.  It  con- 
tains picnic  grounds,  tine  drives,  duck,  lotus,  and 
lily  ponds,  drinking-fountaius,  a  "zoo"  of  small 
size,  and  many  pavilions. 

Paper,  bicycles,  railroad  passenger  cars,  buttons, 
skates,  and  pistols  are  largely  manufactured  here. 
The  Public  Library  contains  about  90,000  volumes. 
Hampden  Park  has  the  best  bicycle  track  in  the 
United  States,  and  Springfield  is  called  the  "  Wheel- 
man's Mecca."  The  famous  "  Yale-Harvard  "  foot- 
ball games  are  also  played  on  Hampden  Pa.rk. 

ALBERT  W.  ATWATER. 


A  Glimpse  of  "  The  Glorious." 

Most  people  who  live  in  the  Eastern  States  con- 
sider California  a  great  distance  off,  and  so  it  is  ; 
yet  it  takes  only  five  days  to  cross  the  continent, 
by  rail,  and  bring  one  from  January  snows  to  sun- 
shine an.l  flowers.  Petaluma  is  a  thriving'town  of 
three  thousand,  situated  in  Sonoma  County,  and 
connected  with  San  Francisco  by  tide-water.  The 
chief  occupations  of'the  people  in  the  surrounding 
country  are  dairying,  fruit-raising,  and  wine-mak- 
ing. The  varieties  of  the  Sonoma  fruits  most  raised 
are  cherries,  apricots,  peaches,  pears,  plums,  ap- 
ples, figs,  olives,  and  grapes.  There  are  many  large 
dairies  ami  creameries  owned  by  the  Swiss  people, 
who  find  the  surrounding  country  a  good  substi- 
tute for  their  native  land.  Before  California  came 
into  the  possession  of  the  United  States  the  swar- 
thy Mexican  and  his  fiery  mustang  roamed  through 
the  tall  grass,  tending  enormous  herds  of  cattle, 
sometimes  slaughtering  several  hundred  for  their 
hides,  and  leaving  the  carcasses  to  the  buzzards. 

EAST  OAKLASD.  SAMUEL  T.  BUSH,  R.  T.  K. 


A  Collection  of  Newspapers. 

We  advised  a  member  to  write  to  the  American 
Minister  at  Athens  for  a  copy  of  a  newspaper 
printed  in  modern  Greek.  Elsa  Roeder  kindly 
amends  by  suggesting  the  Atlantis,  printed  in  New 
York,  It  is  wholly  in  Greek,  and  no  address  other 
thiin  New  York  city  is  necessary.  Thanks,  dear 
Lady  L'lsa,  This  collecting  of  present-day  news- 
papers as  a  means  of  broadening  and  increasing 
one's  knowledge  of  the  world  is  most  useful  and 
interesting.  It  is  also  inexpensive. and  as  an  edu- 
cator equals  or  exceeds  the  collecting  of  stamps. 
Hid  you  ever  see  a  present-day  newspaper  that  is 
published  in  Brussels  or  Rome,  or  even  Paris  or 
London?  The  American  Consuls  can  give  you  the 
and  the  amounts  to  remit  for  single  copies. 
in-,  if  yon  send  stamps  for  postage,  the  Consuls 
would  in  most  cases  forward  the  newspai ., 
think.  You  can  get  a  list  of  Consuls  from  the 
State  Department,  Washington,  or  can  find  them 
in  the  Congressional  Directory,  which  your  Mem- 
her  of  Congress  will  gladly  send  you  upon  request. 

Consuls  are  always  desirous  of  serving  the  in- 
terests of  fellow-Americans  in  such  matters.  The 
spread  of  English-speaking  humanity  has  led  to  the 
founding  of  English  newspapers  in  many  foreign 
cities.  In  the  Orient  there  are  newspapers  printed 
In  English,  and  they  are  full  of  what  to  us  are 
quaint  items.  Such  papers  are  to  be  found  in  Con- 
stantinople, Cairo,  Calcutta,  Yokohama,  Honolulu, 
and  even  in  Teheran  and  Jerusalem.  The  Indian 
Mail  and  Japan  3Iail  are  interesting  newspapers, 
and  you  would  read  the  South  Australian  Chronicle, 

590 


published  in  Adelaide,  anil  the  Tasmaniaii  Mail, 
published  in  Hobart,  with  a  great  deal  of  curiosity. 
Then  your  collection  ought  to  include  such  famous 
journals  as  the  Gazette,  of  Cologne,  Germany,  print- 
ed in  German,  of  course  ;  the  Gazette,  of  St.  Peters- 
burg, and  the  Novoe  Vremya,  of  Moscow,  printed  in 
modern  Russian  ;  the  Petit  Journal,  of  Paris,  and 
IniliiHhdence  Edge,  of  Brussels,  in  French;  the 
\«-<  i"nit/(,  of  Madrid,  and  the  Journal,  of  Rio  de 
Janeiro,  in  Spanish  ;  and  papers  from  Constanti- 
nople, in  Turkish,  and  from  Tokyo,  in  Japanese. 
You  should  also  include  the  Scotsman,  of  Edin- 
burgh, Scotland,  in  your  collection, and  you  might 
learn  much  that  you  do  not  know  from  a  careful 
reading  of  newspapers  published  in  North  and 
South  American  cities.  Did  you  ever  see  a  Caracas 
newspaper?  The  study  is  a  fascinating  one,  and 
as  surely  broadens  and  liberalizes  as  does  know- 
ledge on  other  studies,  collegiate  not  excepted. 


Out-door  Entertainments. 

Once  every  year  there  is  held  at  Good  Will  Farm 
a  Summer  Celebration,  which  a  great  many  of  the 
Farm's  friends  attend.  There  are  picnics,  feast- 
ing, and,  of  course,  some  speeches.  This  summer 
Mr.  Kirk  Munroe  is,  we  believe,  to  be  a  guest  at 
the  Farm,  and  will,  of  course,  make  a  speech. 

These  Farm  outings  are  held  in  July.  Now,  why 
may  not  the  Table,  during  that  month,  or  during 
the  August  vacation,  hold  as  many  outings  as  pos- 
sible, the  proceeds  to  go,  little,  whole,  or  in  part,  to 
the  Round  Table  Industrial  School  Fund?  The 
trouble  is  very  slight,  the  fun  great,  and  the  satis- 
faction not  to  be  measured.  We  urge  this  subject 
upon  the  attention  of  all  Chapters,  and  upon  all 
members  of  the  Order. 

Do  you  belong  to  a  Sunday-school  class?  Ask  it 
about  undertaking  it.  If  you  are  just  the  least 
bit  interested,  write  us  for  particulars,  with  full 
and  easily  planned  programme.  We  will  give  them 
promptly.  You  can  carry  out  the  details.  All 
that  is  needed  is  a  small  company  of  half  a  dozen 
persons,  old  or  young. 

This  school  is  for  some  boys  who  need  a  school- 
house— and  have  none.  The  Table  is  'earning  the 
Fund.  Won't  you  help? 

*  *  * 

A  Close  View  of  the  Shah. 

I  was  in  Paris  during  the  great  exhibition  of 
1889.  While  I  was  there  the  Shah  of  Persia  came 
to  France  to  see  the  World's  Fair.  I  was  at  an  out- 
door show  one  day,  which  the  Shah  attended,  and 
I  happened  to  be  very  close  to  his  box  and  had  a 
good  view  of  him  and  all  his  suite.  He  was  a  very 
dark  man  of  Jewish  type.  He  was  attired  in  a 
long  black  cloak  of  soft  cashmere  which  came  to 
his  knees.  It  was  devoid  of  any  ornament  except 
heavy  black  silk  frogs  which  fastened  it.  He  wore 
a  tall  brimless  Astrakhan  hat,  with  a  single  precious 
stone  on  the  front.  It  looked  like  a  moonstone  and 
was  quite  large.  He  wore  a  beautiful,  curved 
sword,  the  only  elaborate  ornament  that  he  had 
on.  It  was  a  magnificent  weapon,  containing 
many  gems  set  in  the  hilt  and  scabbard.  He  also 
had  on  black  boots  of  soft  leather  reaching  to  the 
knee.  His  staff  had  a  great  many  more  ornaments 
than  be  had,  but  were  all  attired  in  the  same  black 
coats  and  fur  caps. 

JACK  RANDALL  CRAWFORD. 

*  *  * 

The  Gum  on  Stamps. 

The  gum  on  the  back  of  the  postage-stamps  of 
the  United  States  is  made  from  alcohol  one  p;i,t, 
acetic  acid  one  part, dextrine  two  parts, and  wa- 
ter five  parts.  A.  S.  H 

PBABf.DV.  MASS. 


Answers  to  Kinks. 


No.  83. 
<:  or  !•: 
E  ve  N 
R  in  G 
M  il  L 
A  re  A 
N  oo  N 
Y  ar  D 

No.  s".  —  A  kiss. 


No.  84. 

B 

ARE 

BREAK 

EAT 

K 


No.  86.— Holmes. 


HARPER'S   BOUND   TAJ3LE 


( Continued  from  page  589.) 

Schermerhorn  Street,  thence  direct  to  Flat- 
bnsh  Avenue,  niul  so  on  to  the  circle  at  the 
entrance  to  the  Park.  Running  through 
the  Park  on  any  of  the  roads,  he  should 
leave  it  ou  the  south  at  Franklin  Avenue 
liy  the  parade-ground,  thence  turning  to  the 
right  on  Franklin  Avenue,  keeping  on  until 
he  reaches  the  Ocean  Parkway,  which  is 
now  the  famous  Im'yele  mute  to  Manhattan 
Beach.  This  in  itself  is  a  pleasant  ride. 

ANOTHER  AND  QUITE  AS  ATTRACTIVE  a 
route  in  this  way  is  to  continue  on  the 
Ori-au  Parkway  until  reaching  Parkville, 
thence  turn  to  the  right  into  the  Old  Bath 
K'>ad,  which  is  nearly  all  macadamized  at 
this  writing,  and  will  be  entirely  so  within 
the  next  month  or  two.  The  rider  may  con- 
tinue  on  this  to  Bath  Beach,  and  then,  keep- 
ing to  the  right  and  running  westward  on 
Cropsey  Avenue  until  he  reaches  Seventh 
Avenue,  he  may  turn  to  the  right  into  this, 
and  either  run  down  to  Fort  Hamilton  near 
the  Government  lands,  and  thence  straight 
on  down  to  Second  Avenue  and  into  Bay 
Ridge,  or  he  may  keep  straight  on  Seventh 
Avenue-,  passing  Fort  Hamilton  anil  running 
up  to  Sixtieth  Street,  and  so  back,  turning 
to  the  right  into  Old  Bath  Road,  and  home 
through  Parkville  on  the  Old  Bath  Road, 
Ocean  Parkway,  and  Prospect  1'ark.  Still 
; I  her  trip  is  to  run  southward  and  east- 
ward after  reaching  Bath  Beach  on  the  Old 
Batli  Rnnd,  to  Bensonhnrst  and  1'nionville. 
In  fact,  the  reader  has  but  to  refer  to  the 
map  of  Brooklyn 'to  pick  out  his  own  route 
011  any  of  the  black  marked  roads,  which 
are  in  this  district  macadamized. 


AN  UNPLEASANT   MISTAKE. 

IT  is  well  always  for  boys  to  learn  how 
to  spell,  as  the  experience  of  a  little  lad  in 
England  recently  proved.  Retried  to  write 
averse  to  his  teacher,  and  in  using  the  weird 
"bonny "to  describe  her  face  he  wrote, 
"and  oh  your  Ix/iii/  face." 

The  teacher  did  not  like  having  her  face 
referred  to  as  bony,  and  the  poor  little  fel- 
low was  kept  in  for  an  hour  after  the  rest 
of  the  boys  had  gone  home. 


WALTER  BAKER  &  GO, 

The  Largest  Manufacturers  of 

PURE,  HIGH  GRADE 

COCOAS  and  CHOCOLATES 

On  this  Continent,  have  received 

HIGHEST  AWARDS 

from  the  great 

Industrial  and  Food 

EXPOSITIONS 
IN  EUROPE  AND  AMERICA. 

Caution:  ^a^TmiuaSS 

of  the  labels  and  wrappers  on  our 
i:m>il  -,  consuintrB  should  make  -un.1 
thut  our  plnce  of  manufacture, 
'namely,  Dorchester,  3Zas».( 
is  printed  on  each  package. 


SOLD  BY  GROCERS  EVERYWHERE. 
WALTER   BAKER  &  CO.,    DORCHESTER,  MASS. 


IVORY  SOAP 


PURE 


At  all  grocery  stores  east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  two  sizes  of  Ivory  Soap 
are  sold  ;  one  that  costs  five  cents  a  cake,  and  a  larger  size.  The  larger  cake  is  the 
more  convenient  and  economical  for  laundry  and  general  household  use.  If  your 
Grocer  is  out  of  it,  insist  on  his  getting  it  for  you. 


THE  PROCTER  &  GAMBLE  Co    CIN-TI. 


PMIRES' 

Rootbeer  contains  enough  sarsa- 
parilla  alone  to  give  it  the  highest 
'  place  as  a  promoter  of  good  health. 
To  this,add  the  most  delicious  herbs, 
roots.barks  and  berries  and  you  have 
the  reason  why  millions  of  people 
drink  and  grow  healthful  ou  Hires'^ 

Rootbeer 


A  25c.  package  makes  5  gallons 
CHAE.E.  HIRES   CO..PHILA.,* 


OFFICIAL  ANNOUNCEMENT  ofthe«™rd 

CILLOTT'S  PENS  at  the  CHICAGO  EXPOSITION. 

AWA1ID:  "  For  excellence  of  steel  used  in  their 
manufacture,  it  beiny  tine  groined  and  elastic  ;  super- 
ior workmanship,  especially  shown  by  the  careful 
grinding  which  leaves  the  pens  free  from  defects.  The 
tempering:  is  excellent  and  the  action  of  the  finished 
pens  perfect."  (Signed)  FRANZ  VOGT, 

(H.  I.  KIMBALL.  IndividualJudge, 

Approved  :-(        Prex't  Departmental  Committee. 
(JOHN  BOYD  THACHEK, 

Chairman  Exec.  Com.  oil  Awards. 


BIRD!!'  EGGS 


CAR-D  PMNTgggEg 

hour.  YOU  can  make  money  wiih  it.  A  font  of 
prett?  type,  also  Indelible  Ink,  Tjpe  Holder  Pmda 
and  Tmtera.  Best  Linen  Marker;  worth  «1  IN). 
Sample  rotiltd  FREE  TOT  life,  stamj.s  forpoaUieoa 
outfit  and  large  catalogue  of  1000  Bargains. 
R.U.lDgeraoIl&  Bro.  t;..  Cnrtlnndt  St.  A.T.  Cltf 

and  Naturalists'  Sir  ; 
Egg J)ril],  Blowpipe,  and 
Hook,  nickel  -  plated,    in 
pocket,  case,  only  35  els, 
Illustrated  catalogue  for  2-cent  stamp. 
CHAS.  K.  REED,  262  Main  Street,  Worcester,  Mass. 

WANTED.    100,000  BOYS, 

to  sell  the  EUICEKA   MARKING  TAG  fur 

mnrkinjr  liats,  etc.,  now  and  in  Summer  vacation. 
Sells  ai  siL'lit.  Send  10  cents  in  coin  for  samples.  Ad- 
dress Eureka  Marking  Tag  Co.,  Cedar  Falls,  Iowa. 


CEND  for  Catalogue  of 
^J  the  Musical  liistru- 
meitt  you  think  of  buying. 
Violins  repaired  l»v  the 

Cremona  System,  r.  STOI:Y, 
26  Central  St..  liostnn.  M;i>s. 


Dialogues,  Speakers,  for  School, 
rlub  anrt  Parlor.  Catalogue  free. 
T.  S.  DEN  ISDN,  I'ub.ClScago.llL 


PLAYS 


TWO    NEW    BOOKS 

FOR    YOUNG    PEOPLE 


A  Tale  of  the  Sea 

AFLOAT   WITH   THE    FLAG.     By  W. 

J.  HENDERSON.    Illustrated.   Post  Svo, 

Cloth,  Ornamental,  $i  25. 

Mr.  Henderson  has  combined  his  knowledge 
of  the  sea  with  his  experience  of  several  years 
as  an  officer  in  the  Naval  Reserve,  and  thus  lias 
made  a  story  of  the  New  Navy.  The  story 
follows  the  experiences  of  four  American 
boys  during  the  Brazilian  revolution,  two  of 
them  being  on  the  American  cruiser  Detroit,  a 
third  having  enlisted  in  the  Brazilian  navy  on  the 
battle-ship  Atjuniaban,  and  the  fourth  being  a 
soldier  on  the  side  of  the  Brazilian  government. 

BY   THE   SAME   AUTHOR: 

SEA  YARNS  FOR  BOYS.  Spun  by  an 
Old  Salt.  Illustrated.  Post  Svo,  Cloth, 
Ornamental,  $i  25. 


Poems  by 
Mrs.  Sangster 

LITTLE    KNIGHTS    AND     LADIES. 

Verses  for  Young  People.  By  MARGA- 
RET E.  SANGSTER.  Illustrated.  i6mo. 
Cloth,  Ornamental,  Uncut  Edges  and 
Gilt  Top,  $i  25. 

Mr-.  Sangster  has  a  charming  way,  quite  her 
own,  of  writing  verse  to  please  the  young,  and 
many  of  the  lines  in  this  volume  will  be  com- 
mitted to  memory  and  carried  into  the  riper 
years  of  the  "  Little  Knights  and  Ladies." 

£)-    THE    SAME    AUTHOR: 

ON  THE  ROAD  HOME.     Poems.     Illus- 
trated.   i6mo,  Cloth,  $i  25. 


Published  by  HARPER   &    BROTHERS,   New  York 

The  aboi'e  works  an-  for  sale  by  all  bmksdlers.  or  -;•:/'/  fv  mailed  by  tin  publish 
prepaid,  vn  receipt  of  the  / 

591 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


BY  THE  SEA. 

"TiU'si,  rays.  Tommy,"  said  Mrs.  Jndkins  to  her  little 
boy,"meailS  Ihat  tin-  sun  is  dialing  the  water  ui>  to  tlic 
sky  I'cir  rain." 

'••And  then,"  replied  Tommy,  "are  we  soon  going  to  Have 
a  salt-uatcr  -,lio«er  (" 

AN    EXPLANATION. 

1  KNOW  why  UK-  elephant  l>y  a  thick  skiu 

And  a  tonnh  «'»<'  '»  ever  begirt: 
It  i>  so   when  he's  struck  liy  tin-  trainers  crowbar, 

II,-  can   laugh  in  his  trunk  all   unhurt. 


A  GREAT   FEAT. 

"MAMMA,"  sobbed  Bessie,  "make  Willie  stop  smellin' 
my  roses.  He's  took  all  the  perfloomery  out  of  one  of  cm 

already  ."  » 

A    REPLY. 

JI.MMIKHIIV'S  small  brothi-rs  had  both  got  out  of  bed  on 
tin-  urong  sid.'.  as  the  saying  goes,  and  their  differences 
bad  been  frequent. 

-What  arc  those  babies  fighting  about?'  finally  asked 
Jiniinic'boy's  niainma. 

••About  all 
the-  time."  said 
Jimmieboy. 


THE   WHALE'S   SPOUT. 

"Mn.T<>Ml'Kixs,"said  Willie  Smith  to  his  teacher  the 
•other  day,  "  wlicn  tin-  whale  spouts  does  he  do  it  to  bale 
himself  out  t"  _ 

I'M  very  fond  of  buckwheat  cakes, 

I'm  very  fond  of  pumpkin-pie, 
I  love  the  cookies  mommy  makes, 

I  love  upon  the  grass  to  lie. 

I  dote  upon  a  lot  of  things. 

Like  toys  and  apples,  curtain-rings, 

lint  like  most  boys 

I  think  that  noise 

Is  just  the  best  thing  known  to  man, 
And  that  is  why  an  old  tin  pan. 

And  battered  spoou, 

This  afternoon, 

Have  kept  me  busy  as  a  bee; 
Lang!    bang!  Boom!    boom!    Hurrah  for  ine, 

I  don't  need  toys 

When   I  have  noise. 


A  STAMP-ALBUM  GEOGRAPHER. 

NOBODY  can  deny  that  postage- stamp  collecting  is  a 
great  help  in  teaching  boys  geography.  Jack  showed  thi.s 
at  school  when  his  teacher  asked  him  where  Nicaragua  \\  as, 
and  what  it  produced  chiefly. 

"It's  on  page  ninety-right, "said  Jack,  "and  it  produces 
more  sets  o'  stamps  than  an v  other  country  of  its  size  in  the 
•world." 


A  BETTER  ONE. 

"MY  dad- 
dy's got  a  little 
\\atch  on  his 
bicycle  that 
shows  how  far 
he  goes.  Ev- 
ery time  he 
J;IM-X  a  mile  this 
tiling  marks  a 
mile,"  said 

Tommie. 

"  My  pa  has 
a  better  one 
than  that,"  re- 
torted Bobbie. 
'•  Every  time 
he  goes  a  mile 
hi.s  registers 
two  miles." 


A  PUZZLER. 

"WHAT  I  can't  understand  about  the  sun's  light, "said 
"\Vallie,  when  lie  first  heard  how  many  millions  of  miles 
away  from  the  earth  the  sun  is,  "  is  how  it  manages  to  net 
Lere  so  early  in  the  morning  without  travelling  all  night." 


A  BAD  RULE. 
"  WHAT    has 

hecnme  of 

your  club,  Har- 
ry .'" 

"Oh,  it's  bro- 
ken 11  [i,"  s.-lid 
Harry.  "  We 
"made  a  rule 
that  no  boy 
.could  be  Presi- 
dent twice,  and 
after  we'd  been 
President  once 
we  couldn't  go 
on  with  it." 


SAM    LEE    AND    THE    FLYING-TOP— A   CELESTIAL    TALE. 

592 


HARPERS 


u, 


ROUND  TABLE 


Copyrigbt,  1995,  by  HIBFIR  i  BROTHIBS.     All  Rights  Reserved. 


PUBLISHED    WEEKLV. 
VOL.  XVI.— NO.  815. 


NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY,  JUNE  11,  1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPV. 
TWO    DOLLARS    A    TKAlt. 


SAVED     BY    A     CARCASS. 

A     WHALEMAN'S     Y  A  R  X. 

BY    W.    J.    HENDERSON. 

••  TT  AVSOME,"  said  Farmer  Joe,  having  stretched  him-  Handsome  blew  a  whirling  clond  of  smoke  that  went 

I  I  self  mi  the  shady  side  of  the  forecastle-deck  and  set  swiftly  out  to  leeward  under  the  swelling  foot  of  the  t'mv- 

his  pipe   going,  ''it  'pears  t°  me  that  it's  about  time  we  staysail.     He  watched  it  in  a  meditative  manner  until  it 

heard  what  happened  to  you  after  you  got  back  to  your  disappeared,  and  then  said: 

own  ship.''  "  I  was  pretty  glad  to  get  back  to  my  own  ship,  thfl 

"You  mean  on  my  whaling  voyages,  I  suppose,"  said  Ellin  /;/m/ir,  bcransr.  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  they  treated 

Handsome.  us  very  well  aboard  the  Tiro  finikin*,  you  see  I  had  a  pretty 

"  That's  a  right  peert  guess,"  responded  Farmer  Joe.  g 1  lay  on  the  Ellen,  and  I  didn't  want  to  lose  it.  Of 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


coiir-e  iiol...d\  ever  get*  rich  by  going  to  sea.  but  a  fellow 
like*  to  Miek  t'asi  to  all  In-  gets.  Well,  we  didn't  stay  verj 
[ong  ill  the  bay  in  eompan\  with  the  Tiru  I  'mmiiin.  We  got 
tn  sea  again,  ami  laiil  our  course  I'or  a  lnl  of  eriiising- 
gr.,imd  away  N>  (lie  southward.  «li.' re  our  Captain  said  lie. 

believed  the  whaling  was  g 1.     The  voyage  down  there 

was  as  stupid  as  a  Sunday-afternoon  sermon  in  hot  \\  ra- 
ther, and  for  the  matter  of  that  so  was  the  cruising  for  two 
da\s,  I.eranse  we  didn't  raise  a  single  spoilt.  On  the  third 
day.  however,  we  were  gladdened  liy  the  welcome  cry  of 
'There  she  blows!'  There,  were  half  a  dozen  whales  in 
sight,  and  the  old  man  had  great  hopes  of  getting  at  least 
two  of  them,  lint  that  was  not  to  lie  our  luck  that  day. 
The  liist  mate  got  fast  to  oue  big  fellow,  and  killed  him, 
1) ut  the  rest  of  us  returned  to  the  ship  empty-handed. 

••  Now  I  haven't  told  yon  anything  about  what's  done 
with  a  whale  after  you  get  him;  lint  as  this  story  depends 
mi  that,  I'll  have  to  explain.  The  first  joli  is  to  get  the 
whale  alongside  the  ship." 

"  Why  not  sail  the  ship  alongside  the  whale?"  asked  one 
of  the  listeners. 

"That,  ain't  wholly  practicable,"  answered  Handsome, 
'•  lieeanse  you  might  run  into  him  and  sink  him.  The  ship 
doe*  sail  as  close  as  she  dares,  lint  the  boats  must  do  their 
share.  Two  boats  take  the  ends  of  a  light  line,  with  a 
\\eight  slung  on  the  bight  so  as  to  sink  it,  and  they  pass 
this  under  the  whale's  tail  and  around  his  'small,'  as  the 
slimmest  part  of  him  is  called.  By  means  of  this  line,  the 
ends  being  passeil  aboard  the  ship,  a  chain  is  run  in  a  slip- 
noose  around  the  '  small,'  and  Mr.  Whale  is  hauled  along- 
side and  kept  there.  Next  comes  the  business  of  cutting- 
in,  which  means  cutting  off  the  blubber  and  bone  that  are 
wanted.  Stages,  such  as  ships'  painters  use,  are  slung  over 
the  side  of  the  vessel,  and  the  first-class  cutters,  generally 
the  ship's  oflieers.  stand  on  these  stages  with  long-handled 
spades.  The  cutting-iu  begins  at  the  place  where  the  back- 
bone joins  the  'head,  and  the  first  strip  taken  oft"  there  is 
called  the  blanket  piece.  The  pieces  of  blubber  are  hauled 
up  with  tackles,  and  these  rip  them  off  while  the  spades 
cut.  It's  a  long  and  tough  job,  and  ft  makes  a  new  hand 
pretty  sick.  Hut  it's  child's  play  to  what  comes  next, 
which  is  the  trying-out.  Say,  I'd  rather  be  a  green  hand 
again  than  have  another  job  at  trying-out." 

"  Well,  tell  us  about  it,  anyhow,"  said  Farmer  Joe. 

"It  ain't  any  use  to  make  a  long  yarn  of  that,"  con- 
tinued Handsome.  "  The  try-works,  as  they  call  them,  are 
a  sort  of  Dutch  oven,  built  of  bricks,  ami  situated  amid- 
ships. A  couple  of  big  iron  pots  stand  on  top  of  the  oveu, 
and  the  blubber,  minced  up,  is  put  into  them.  Yon  start  a 
lire  in  the  oven,  and  thai  boils  out  the  oil,  which  is  ladled 
out  into  casks,  and  then  all  hands  turn  to  and  pick  out  the 
pieces  of  fat  and  scraps  so  as  to  leave  nothing  put  pure  oil. 
Well,  to  heave  ahead  with  the  yarn,  we  had  our  whale 
alongside  overnight,  and  the  next  morning  we  started  at 
ciitting-in.  About  the  time  we'd  got  ready  for  trying-out, 
and  started  the  tires.  I  he  biveye  began  to  freshen  up,  and  it 
looked  rather  dirty  lip  to  windward.  The  Captain  said  we 
must  shake  a  leg  with  the  trying-out. 

••  '  Boys,'  says  he, 'we  got  to  boil  this  oil  with  stn'ns'ls 
set.  because   before  we  get  it  done  we'll  be  under  a 
reefed  maintops'!.' 

"Well,  bless  you,  he  hadn't  innrh  more  than  got  the 
words  out  of  his  mouth  than  the  mast-head  fellow  lets  out 
a  yell  : 

"  'There  she  blows!      And  there  she  breaches!' 

"Now  it  wouldn't  make  any  difference  to  a  whaler  if  he 
thought  the  world  was  a-goiug  to  come  to  an  end  iu  ten. 
minutes,  he'd  lower  away  if  he  saw  a  spout.  So  the  Cap- 
tain gave  orders  for  two  boats  to  get  under  way  in  chase 
of  the  new  whales.  One  of  the  boats  was  the  oue  I  be- 
longed to,  and  the  next  thing  I  knew  I  was  sitting  on  my 
thwart.  The  sail  was  hoisted,  and  we  went  scudding  down 
to  l, -nn-arcl  at  a  rattling  gait.  Say,  it  wasn't  altogether 
agreeable  to  sit  in  that  boat  and  notice  the  width  and 
height-  of  the  sea  that  was  getting  up.  But  we  soon  forgot 
all  about  it  in  the  excitement  of  going  on. 

••  •  It's  a-goiug  to  be  a  tough  job  getting  this  whale  along- 
side.'says  i, ne  of  the  i 


"  '  Wait  till  we  get  him  first.'  says  Bacon. 

'•Well.it  \\asoiii-.-liauee.and  Kaeon  slung  the  iron  into 
him  with  a  vim.  I'p  went  ilnkes  and  down  went  whale, 
lie  soon  came  up  and  began  to  swim  to  windward  at  a 
tearful  speed.  The  seas  thundered  against  the  bow  of  our 
boat,  and  great  sheets  of  water  came  tumbling  inboard. 

"'Bale  there,  bale  !'  yelled  Bacon,  'or  the  boat '11' fill  and 
sink!' 

"  You  can  bet  we  didn't  need  to  be  told  twice.  We  hadn't 
fairly  got  started  when  the  whale  sounded,  aud  we  could 
tell  by  the  trend  of  the  line  that  he  was  coming  back  tow- 
ard the  boat. 

"  '  Look  out !'  shouted  Bacon. 

"The  next  second  the  brute  shot  clear  out  of  the  water 
not  fifty  feet  off  the  starboard  beam  of  our  boat,  and  raised 
such  a  wave  when  he  fell  back  into  the  sea  that  he  nearly 
swamped  us. 

"  '  For  goodness"  sake,'  says  one  of  the  men. '  cut  the  line 
and  let  him  go.' 

"  '  We'll  never  get  back  to  the  ship  alive,'  says  another  ; 
'  look  at  the  sea.  It's  blowing  a  gale.' 

"Well,  it  was  blowing  iu  a  bit  of  a  squall  just  then,  but 
Bacon's  blood  was  np,  and  he  was  bound  to'  have  that 
whale. 

"  '  Pull  me  up  to  him  !'  be  shouted. 

"  We  obeyed  orders,  and  Bacon  drove  the  lauce  right  into 
his  life. 

"  '  Starn  all !'  he  yelled,  and  we  didn't  get  out  of  the  way 
a  second  too  quick, for  the  monster  went  into  his  Hurry, 
and  beat  the  sea  into  an  acre  of  foam  with  his  immense 
flukes.  However,  there  he  was  dead  enough,  and  in  the 
mean  time  the  ship  had  worked  down  to  leeward  of  ns.  ami 
was  close  at  hand.  It  was  a  pretty  troublesome  piece  of 
work  to  pass  the  line  around  his  small  in  such  a  nasty  sea; 
we  managed  to  do  it  after  tour  or  live  trials,  and  he  was 
hauled  alongside  the  ship  just  as  it  began  to  grow  dark. 
Now  I  tell  you  what,  lads,  it  was  a  very  uncommon  sight. 
There  was  the  ship  beginning  to  roll  uneasily  in  the  rising 
sea.  \\  ith  a  blazing,  smoking  furnace  amidships, looking  for 
all  the  world  as  if  she  was  on  fire,  aud  a  whale  on  each 
side  of  her.  The  boats  were  hauled  up,  aud  then,  the  Cap- 
tain looked  about  him. 

"  '  Cut  the  old  whale  adrift,'  says  he  ;  '  we  can't  tow  the 
two  of  them  iu  this  weather,  and  we've  got  about  the  best 
of  his  oil.' 

"So  we  cut  the  carcass  adrift,  and  it  went  rolling  off 
down  to  leeward.  It  hadn't  got  fifty  yards  from  the  ship 
before  all  the  water  around  it  was  black  with  sharks' tins, 
and  the  next  instant  a  dozen  of  these  wolves  of  the  sea  ap- 
peared, leaping  and  thrashing  the  water  in  their  mad  strug- 
gles to  get  at  the  remains  of  the  whale.  They  seemed  like 
regular  demons,  so  fiercely  did  they  attack  the  carcass,  rip- 
ping away  the  remaining  shreds  of  flesh,  and  smashing  the 
bones  iu  their  powerful  jaws.  In  five  minutes  the  body 
was  torn  to  pieces  and  the  sharks  disappeared,  leaving  ns 
to  imagine  what  would  have  happened  to  some  of  us  if  a 
boat  had  happened  to  capsize  iu  the  chase.  Well,  the  gale 
increased  in  strength,  and  the  sea  rose  more  and  more.  The 
( 'aptain  didn't  want  to  lose  the  whale, so  he  hove  the  ship 
to  with  the  dead  monster  under  our  lee,  where  he  rode  pretty 
well,  except  that  once  in  a  while  when  we  rolled  heavily  he 
would  come  up  against  the  side  of  the  ship  with  a  thump 
that  threatened  to  shake  the  timbers  apart.  However,  the 
Captain  said  he  was  going  to  hang  on  till  he  found  it  was 
a  case  of  life  or  death.  All  of  a  sudden  we  were  startled  by 
a  terrible  cry, 

'"Fire." 

"Eveiy  man  looked  iu  the  direction  from  which  the  cry 
came,  and  we  saw  a  small  but  lively  flame  stealing  up  near 
the  foot  of  the  mainmast. 

•  •  It's  from  the  try-works!'  shouted  Bacon. 

"Sure  enough  the  gale  had  taken  up  every  one's  atfceu- 
tiou  so  that  we  all  forgot  about  the  fire  iu  the  try-works. 
It  hadn't  been  put  out,  and  now  a  coal  or  a  spark  'or  some- 
thing had  fallen  on  the  deck,  aud  the  damage  was  done." 
"Why  didn't-  you  pui  it  out  .'"  asked  one  of  the  listeners. 
"Put  it  out!"  exclaimed  Handsome;  "why, man   alive. 
don't  you  know  the  condition  a  whale  ship  is  in  when  try- 


594 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


ing-out  is  going  on?  She  was  simply  afloat  with  whale 
oil.  The  deck  was  running  with  it;  every  plank  and  bit 
of  loose  rigging  was  soaked  with  it.  Put  it  out !  Why, 
we  did  all  that  mortal  man  could  think  of.  The  Captain 
ordered  us  to  get  up  all  the  tarpaulins  and  spare  canvas, 
and  try  to  smother  it,  but,  bless  you.  as  soon  as  we  threw 
them  over  the  fire  they  soaked  up  the  oil  and  began  to 
burn.  We  fought  the  tire  with  the  energy  of  desperate 
men,  for  we  knew  that  if  we  had  to  take  to  the  boats  the 
chances  of  our  ever  seeing  land  again  in  such  a  sea  would 
be  pretty  slim.  Finally  the  Captain  said  he  would  try  a 
desperate  scheme.  As  yet  the  flames  were  around  the 
decks  and  lower  masts.  What  he  proposed  to  do  was  to 
let  the  ship  fall  off  into  the  trough  of  the  sea  in  hopes 
that  a  big  wave  would  sweep  her  deck  and  drown  out  the 
fire.  Everything  was  made  ready,  and  then  with  a  face 
full  of  sorrow  he  gave  the  order  to  cut  loose  the  carcass  of 
the  whale.  He  was  afraid  to  let  it  hang  there  with  the 
ship  broadside  on.  We  cut  it  loose,  and  then  he  ordered 
the  helm  to  be  put  up,  and  all  hands  to  take  to  the  rigging. 
We  went  up  with  a  good  deal  of  misgiving.  The  ship  fell 
off  into  the  trough  and  wallowed  there.  The  seas  broke 
over  her  here  and  there,  hut  not  in  sufficient  volume  to 
drown  the  fire,  which  was  gaining  headway  all  the  time, 
and  was  now  beginning  to  send  tongues  of  llame  up  the 
rigging,  as  if  in  a  mad  attempt  to  drive  us  poor  fellows  out 
of  our  refuge. 

"'It  won't  do,' says  the  Captain;  'we  must  lay  down, 
lads,  and  take  to  the  boats.' 

"We  all  started  for  the  deck,  when  suddenly  Bacon 
uttered  a  fearful  cry  : 

"•Look!     Look!' 

"He  was  pointing  to  windward,  and  lookigig  in  that 
direction,  we  all  saw  a  tremendous  wave  rolling  down  upon 
the  ship  with  the  speed  of  an  express  train.  We  stopped 
where  we  were,  and  clung  with  an  intense  grip  to  the  rig- 
ging. The  wave  came.  It  pitched  the  vessel  up  as  if  she 
were  a  chip  of  wood,  and  thing  her  over  on  her  beam  ends. 
There  was  a  crashing  and  rending  of  wood,  and  several 
wild  shrieks  from  the  men  as  the  foremast  went  by  the 
board.  There  were  half  a  dozen  fellows  on  it,  and  they 
were  plunged  into  that  raging  sea.  I  never  saw  them 
again.  The  rest  of  us  "were  hanging  on  as  best  we  could, 
when  the  very  next  wave  that  came  put  out  the  fire  sure 
enough,  for  it  turned  the  EUen  Burgee  bottom  up." 

Handsome  paused  for  a  moment,  as  if  overcome  by  the 
dreadful  recollection. 

"  Well,"  he  continued,  "  when  she  went  over,  I  let  go  of 
the  rigging  and  threw  myself  into  the  sea.  I  made  up  my 
mind  it  was  all  over  with  me,  yet  it  turned  out  that  this 
•was  not  to  be  the  case.  I  was  buried  under  a  ton  or  two 
of  foaming  water,  but  I  came  to  the  surface  again,  and  found 
myself  a  long  distance  off  from  the  overturned  ship,  which 
was  fast  settling  in  the  water.  I  struck  out,  as  a  man  will 
even  when  he  doesn't  know  what  use  it  is,  and  kept  my- 
self afloat  for  several  minutes,  the  waves  all  the  time  driv- 
ing me  to  leeward.  Suddenly  I  saw  a  dark  mass  tumbling 
on  the  seas  a  short  distance  away.  I  thought  it  must  be 
one  of  our  boats  that  had  got  loose  when  the  ship  went 
over,  and  so  I  struck  out  for  it.  I  was  growing  weak, 
blind,  and  dazed  in  the  heavy  seas,  when  I  was  caught  up 
by  a  wave  and  flung  squarely  on  top  of  the  floating  object. 
I  grabbed  wildly,  and  caught  hold  of  something  hard  and 
slimy.  I  citing  to  it,  though,  and  to  my  great  amazement  I 
found  I  was  hanging  to  the  flipper  of  the  dead  whale.  You 
know  they  float  on  their  sides  when  dead,  with  one  flipper 
up  in  the  air  and  the  other  underwater.  Well,  it  wasn't 
much  of  a  life-raft,  as  you  may  well  suppose,  but  a  man  in 
such  a  fix  as  I  was  will  take  anything  he  can  get.  I  hung 
on  there  all  right,  the  deart  whale  jumping  and  tumbling 
under  me  like  a  live  fish.  Toward  morning  the  wind  shift- 
ed, and  at  sunrise  the  gale  broke.  The  sea  began  to  go 
down  right  away,  but  a  great  swell  was  running.  When 
the  sun  got  fairly  up  I  realized  what  a  terrible  position  I 
was  in.  The  heat  was  intense,  and  the  gases  from  the  car- 
cass nearly  overwhelmed  me.  But  that  was  nothing.  The 
.  air  was  filled  with  the  discordant  cries  of  hungry  sea-birds. 
They  swooped  down  from  every  direction,  and  pecked  at 


the  carcass.  They  beat  at  me  with  their  wings,  and  acted 
as  if  they  knew  I  was  a  doomed  man,  and  the  sooner  they 
could  drive  me  into  the  sea  the  better  for  me.  But  I  fought 
them  oft",  and  sitting  with  one  leg  on  each  side  of  the  Hip- 
per and  clasping  it  with  one  arm,  I  clung  to  my  dreadful 
life-buoy. 

"And  now  came  a  new  horror.  Sharks  appeared  and  be- 
gan to  fight  around  the  whale,  snapping  and  lilting  and 
tearing  off  pieces  of  the  flesh.  I  realized  that  if  this  con- 
tinued uiy  life-buoy  would  be  destroyed;  but  I  was  help- 
less. Then  thirst  began  to  torture  me.  All  day  long  I 
tossed  on  that  dead  wha.le,  with  the  birds  and  the  sharks 
around  me.  At  nightfall  a  gentle  shower  came,  and  by 
holding  my  mouth  open  I  managed  to  relieve  my  thirst 
a  little.  As  soon  as  it  became  dark  the  birds  and  the  sharks 
left  me,  and  presently,  utterly  exhausted,  I  fell  asleep,  lean- 
ing against  the  flipper.  I  remember  that  I  was  quite  con- 
scious of  the  danger  of  falling  off  my  perch  into  the  sea  and 
drowning;  but  I  didn't  care.  How  long  I  slept  I  do  not 
know.  It  must  have  been  five  or  six  hours.  I  was  awaken- 
ed by  a  heavy  shock,  and  I  found  myself  plunged  into  the 
sea.  Involuntarily  I  uttered  a  scream  for  help. 

"  '  Great  Scott !  there's  a  man,'  I  heard  a  voice  say.  '  Hang 
on  there,  lad.  Catch  this.' 

"Plump  came  a  circular  -white  life-buoy  into  the  sea, 
luckily  falling  within  my  reach.  A  few  minutes  later  a 
boat  had  been  lowered  away,  and  I  learned  that  my  dead 
whale  had  been  run  down  in  the  darkness  by  the  ship  Full 
Moon,  bound  for  Liverpool  from  Hong-Kong.  And  so  I  was 
taken  to  England,  with  a  pretty  clear  determination  in  my 
head  never  to  go  whaling  again." 


JUNE   FLOAVERS. 

HERE  and  there  a  clai>\  .' 
And  now  and  then  a  clover? 
And  once  a  week  a  buttercup. 
And  so  the  whole  land  over? 

A  rose  within  the  garden? 

A  lily  in  the  sun  1 
Does  dear  old  Mother  Nature 

Count  flowers  one  by  one  ? 

No ;  daisies  by  the  acre, 

And  clovers  millionfold, 
The  meadows  pink  with  blushing, 
The  pastures  white  and  gold. 

And  roses,  like  the  children, 

Abloom  at  every  door, 
And  buttercups  as  countless 

As  the  sand  upon  the  shore. 

Dear  Mother  Nature  scatters 
Her  flowers  on  road-side  edge ; 

She  carpets  every  forest, 
And  curtains  every  ledge. 

And  then  she  sets  us  dancing 

To  such  a  merry  tune, 
For  all  the  world  is  laughing, 

And,  darlings,  this  is  June! 


"HARRY,  here  are  three  apples;  now  suppose  I  wanted 
you  to  divide  them  equally  between  James,  John,  and  your- 
self, how  would  you  do  it  .''' 

"  I'd  give  them  one  and  keep  the  others.' 

"  Why,  how  do  you  make  that  out  ?" 

"Well,  you  see,'it  would  be  one  for  those  two,  and  one 
for  me,  too." 


595 


STORIES    OF    OUR    GOVERNMENT. 

WHAT    OUR    REPRESENTATIVES    DO. 


BY 


CABOT  LODGE, 


THE  HONORABLE  HENRY 

UNITED  STATES  SENATOR  FUOJI  MASSACIII-SETTS. 


IT  is  not  easy  to  describe  in  a  short  article  an  average  claj 
i,,   fclie  II,, use  of  Keprcsentalives.     'I'll.-  great   days  are 
,  sci  |iti..nal.ainl  a  single  historic  scene  gives  no  idea  of  the 
,,.  day  work  of  the  House.     Moreover,  if  history  is  made 
<„)   ili,.  .ia.vs  nhen  excitement  rims  high,  the  business  of 
carryiug  o'n  Hi,-  government  is  ilonr  every  day,  anil  it  is 
nl.oul  tTic-  la  Her  t'lial  you  wish  to  learn.      My  way  of  hegin- 
iiin,',lct  me  say  a  word  al.ont  the  place  where  this  work  is 
done.      The  House  of  Kepresenlatives  holds   its  sessions  m 
the  southern    win;;  of   the  Cai.itol   at    \\ashingtou.      The 
House  i-  verj   large,  righl  alibied,  and  rigid,  with  little  or- 
nament, and 'without,  beauty  of  proportion.     The  walls  go 
up  for  a  bout  lift, 'en  feet,  and 
from  that  point  the  galleries 
slant    back   until   they  reach 
the  next    lloor  of  the.  build- 
ing.    The  i  oof  is  a  vast  ex- 
panse of  glass,  with  the  arms 
of  each  State  painted  on  1  he 
square  panels.     The  general 
eifeet    is   grayness    of   color 
and  .'i  size  whieh  ean  be  mea- 
sured in  acres  better  than  in 
feet.      Against    the  southern 
wall  is  placed  a  high  white 
marble  dais  or  tribune,  where 
the  Speaker  or  presiding  of- 
ficer sits.     Below  the  Speak- 
er's desk  and  in  descending 
tiers,  also  of  white  marble, 
sit  the  clerks  of  the   House 
and    the    official    reporters. 
Facing     the     Speaker,     and 
ranged   in    a  semicircle,  are 
360  desks,  with  a  correspond- 
ing number  of  chairs,  which 
are.  or  ought  to  be.  occupied 
by    the   :(.">! i   KVprcM-ntatives 
and  the  four  Territorial  del- 
egates. 

Such  is  the  place,  but  it 
•would  require  a  volume,  and 
a  very  uninteresting  one, 
too, to  explain  the  machinery 
used  in  transacting  the  busi- 
ness for  which  this  urea  I  hall 
is  provided.  Nevertheless, 
it  is  possible,  perhaps,  to 
give  you  iu  a  general  way 
some  idea  of  an  ordinary 
day's  work  in  the  lower 

branch  of  Congress.  In  theory,  the  House  ought  to  take  up 
its  calendars  on  each  day  and  dispose  of  each  article  iu  its 
order.  lint  the  great  beauty  of  the  calendars  is  that  iu 
practice  they  are  never  taken  up  at  all. 

How  then,  you  will  ask,  is  business  done  if  the  House 
never  takes  up  the  list  of  measures  prepared  for  its  consid- 
eration ?  It  is  done  by  a  s\  stem  of  special  rules.  The  Com- 
mittee on  Knles  brings  in  a  rule  that  the  House  shall  take  up, 
let  us  say  the  tariff,  on  a  certain  day,  shall  debate  it  a  cer- 
tain length  of  time,  and  shall  then  vote.  This  rule  is  adopt- 
ed, the  bill  selected  is  taken  from  the  calendar,  and  every- 
thing else  gi\es  way  until  the  taritVis  disposed  of.  Appro- 
ion  bills  are  privileged,  because  they  provide  the 
inonev  necessarj  t<>  carrj  on  the  government,  and  require 
uorule  to  be  br,uii;ht  up.  l!ut  all  the.  other  business  of  the 
House  is  done  practically  under  special  rules;  in  other 
words,  the  Committee  on  Rules  selects  out  of  the  mass  of 
business  presented  a  small  portion  which  the  House  shall 
consider,  and  to  that  small  selection  all  the  time  of  the 
House  is  devoted. 


Inneine  then,  that  the  House  as  you  watch  it  from  the 
gallerf  has  come  to  the  end  of  the  morning  hour,  and  has 
taken  up  the  special  order  of  the  day  made  for  it  by  its 
Committee  on  Kules.  If  it  is  the  first  time  the  subject  has 
come  up  the  chairman  of  the  committee  making  the  report 
opens  the  debate.  In  any  event,  when  the  business  of  the 
,l,v  is  thus  laid  before  the  House  the  debate  begins.  To 
•in'v  one  who  comes  iuto  the  House  gallery  tor  the.  first  time. 
,1,;.  scene  on  the  floor  is  one  of  apparently  hopeless  con- 
fusion Members  are  reading,  writing,  talking,  and  mov- 
ing about  the  chamber.  There  is  an  incessant  murmur  and 
buzz  of  conversation  along  the  aisles  and  in  the  galleries. 

You  who  are  looking  on  see 
a  member  rise  aud  begin  to 
talk,  some  times  quietly,  more 
often     with    great    violence 
aud  excitement,  not  because 
he  is  really  excited,  but  be- 
cause he  wishes  to  be  heard 
above   the   din.     Your  ears 
are  not   accustomed   to   the 
noise,  and  you  do  not  hear 
what  is  said.     Still  less  can 
you    guess    what    it    is    all 
about,  and  yet  business  is 
not   proceeding  by  chance, 
aud  there  are  men  on  that 
confused  floor  who  know  ex- 
actly what  is  happening,  and 
how  the  business  is  going  on. 
You  may  have  been  unlucky 
in  your  day.  aud  no  measure 
of  great   interest  being  up, 
it  may  seem  as  if  it  were  use- 
less to  stay,  but  if  you  will 
be  patient,  and  bear  with  the 
confusion    for    the.    time,  or 
perhaps  come  back  another 
day,  you  will  have  your  re- 
ward. You  will  see  the  House 
reach  an  exciting  point  in  a 
debate,  or  some  subject   of 
great  popular  interest  will 
come  up,  and   theu   a  sharp 
contest  will  follow  between 
different      members,     which 
will  be  full  of  interest. 

Instead  of  reading  aud 
writing  and  talking  and 
moving  about,  you  will  see 
the  members  gather  about 

the  man  who  is  speaking  and  those  who  are  debating  with 
him.  Silence  will  come  on  the  floor  and  in  the  galleries, 
broken  by  bursts  of  applause,  as  one  member  makes  a  sharp 
point  or  retorts  quickly  on  his  opponent.  Nothing  is  more 
interesting  than  good  debate  of  this  kind,  when  men  who 
are  feucing  or  sparring  with  their  wits  instead  of  their 
hands.  You  will  be  surprised  to  see  how  easy  it  now 
is  to  know  what  is  going  on.  You  will  be  glad  that  you 
came  to  the  gallery,  for  every  wholesome  -  minded  being 
likes  to  see  a  fair  contest,  whether  of  brains  or  mus- 
cles, and  incidentally  you  will  see  how  we  English-speak- 
ing people  have  hammered  out  by  discussion  the  laws 
under  which  we  live,  and  have  gained  the  liberty  we 
enjoy.  ( in  the.  other  hand, let  us  suppose  that  yon  are  for- 
tunate enough  to  get,  into  the  gallery  on  a  day  of  great  de- 
bate, when  set  speeches  are  to  be  made  by  the  leaders  on 
either  side.  A  man  ari.s,  s  near  the  middle  of  the  House,  a 
man  whose  laee  is  familiar  to  you,  because  you  have  seen 
it  so  often  in  the  illustrated  papers,  and  all  in  a  moment 
the  House  is  hushed,  aud  every  word  that  the  speaker  says 

500 


HOX.  C.  F.  CRISP,  SPEAKER    OF   THE    HOUSE. 


HAEPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


falls  distinctly  upon  yonr  ear.  Their,  again,  you  feel  re- 
warded, for  you  are  hearing  a  party  leader  speak  and  are 
seeing  a  man  about  whom  yon  have  read.  If  it  is  the  day 
upon  which  a  great  debate  closes,  the  last  speeches  are  made 
by  the  two  leaders  of  the  opposite  sides,  the  galleries  are 
crowded,  but  as  every  one  is  eager  to  hear,  there  is  no 
difficulty  in  catching  every  word.  The  leader  of  the  mi- 
nority delivers  his  last  assault  upon  the  bill,  the  leader  of 
the  majority  replies  to  him,  and  then  the  Speaker  of  the 
House  says:  "The  hour  having  arrived  at  which  the  House 
has  ordered  that  the  debate  be  closed,  the  vote  will  now  be 
taken  upon  the  bill  and  amendments."  Then  comes  the 
voting,  a  dreary  process  for  everybody,  for  each  roll-call 
occupies  half  an  hour,  and  when  it  is  done  the  Speaker  an- 
nounces the  vote,  and  de- 
clares the  bill  passed  or  de- 
feated as  the  case  may  be.  If 
it  is  then  more  than  five 
o'clock  one  of  the  leaders  of 
the  majority  moves  that  the 
House  adjourn,  the  Speaker 
declares  the  motion  carried, 
and  then  the  House  stands  ad- 
journed until  the  next  morn- 
ing at  twelve  o'clock. 

Such  in  very  rough  outline 
is  a  day  in  the  House  of  Rep- 
resentatives wheu  some  sub- 
ject which  awakens  differ- 
ences spring  up,  or  when  a 
great  debate  closes  or  some 
important  bill  is  passed.  But 
there  are  many  other  days 
when  no  conclusion  is  reach- 
ed, and  still  others  which  are 
consumed  in  roll-calls  and 
motions  designed  to  waste 
time,  and  to  stop  all  action. 
If  you  chance  to  come  on  a 
day  of  that  kind,  the  sooner 
you  go  away  the  better  for 
your  own  comfort.  The  mem- 
bers must  stay,  but  you  need 
not. 

It  would,  however,  take  a 
great  deal  more  space  than  I 
have  here  to  give  you  a  de- 
scription of  the  various  scenes 
which  occur  in  the  House 
of  Representatives,  but  the 
rough,  sketch  which  I  have 
drawn  may  help  you  to  some 
idea  of  what  happens  in  the 
great  popular  body  which 
with  the  Senate  makes  laws 
for  the  people  of  the  United 
States.  It  is  a  good  deal  bet- 
ter, however,  that  every  Amer- 
ican boy  and  girl  should  come 
to  Washington  if  they  can 
possibly  manage  it,  and  try  to 
learn  from  observation  what 
their  government  is,  and  how 
it  is  carried  on.  They  will 
have  some  dull  hours  if  they 
pass  many  in  the  galleries  of 
the  House  of  Representatives, 
but  they  may  have  some  min- 
utes of  great  interest,  which 
they  will  always  be  glad  to 
remember,  and  they  are  cer- 
tain to  go  away  with  a  greater 
ability  to  judge  intelligently 
their  public  men,  and  in  this 
way  be  of  better  service  them- 
selves .as  American  citizens 
responsible  for  the  govern- 
ment of  their  country.  If 


yon  cannot  get  to  Washington,  try  to  see  your  own  Legis- 
lature in  session,  or  your  own  city  and  town  government. 
Yon  will  learn  a  great  deal  that  will  be  useful  to  you  when 
you  come  of  age,  and  therefore  responsible  for  your  vote 
or  influence  for  the  government  of  the  United  States,  which 
is  always  in  the  long-run  what  the  people  themselves  make 
it. 


THE  LITTLE   COLLECTOR. 
I  DON'T  care  lunch  for  the  postage-stamps 

Themselves — 'tween  me  aud  you; 
The  fun  I  get  collecting  conies 

From  sticking  'em  in,  with  glue. 


AN    EXCITING   MOMENT    IN    THE    HOUSE   OF    REPRESENTATIVES. 

597 


HARPER'S  ROUND   TABLE 


AN    KXTKKI'I.ISING   PHOTOGRAPHER. 
rnilE  recent  war  between  China   and  .lap:....  which  now 
1    seems  ...  be  practically  over,  fortunately,  was  watched 
In- all  the  militarv  and  naval  men  In  the  world  with  •  greal 
Ll  o£  interest,  for  it  was  the  first  real  war  in  which  many 
„,.,,„.  „„„,,,,,  inventions  in  war-ships  aii.lar.nv  accoutre- 
Ints  were  given  a  fair  trial.     To  be  sure  China  had  In, 
thai  was  modern  in  her  army  and  navy, though  some    > 
the  3hips  of  her  navy  were- of  recent  European  build,  and 
were  manned  by  capable  seamen  and  good  fighting-men 
,.„„  fche  Japanese  certainly  did  have  many  .,1  the  modem 
inventions  in  their  cruisers.and  they  made  most  effi 

use  of  them.  „    . 

The  correspondents  of  the  great  papers  of  the  world, 
]-.owc ver,  seem  to  have  suffered,  and  whether  this  is  a  de- 
velopment of  modern  warfare,  or  because  the  Japanese 
.„„!  Chinese  did  not  understand  and  appreciate  their  posi- 
tion,,Iocs  not  appear  to  have  been  settled.  At  all  event: 
the  correspondents  from  Jripan  and  China,  u  well  as  those 
from  European  and  American  countries,  went  about  then 
always  dangerous  business  at  their  peril,  and  were  in  con- 
stant danger  of  being  captured  and  hung  or  murdered  by 
either  partv.  Sonic  of  these  bright  and  daring  men  did  lose 
their  lives 'there,  and  no  one  takes  the  trouble  to  sing  a  re- 
quiem over  them  in  verse  or  prose,  but  others,  m  spite  of 
all  the  opposition,  got  to  and  remained  at  the  trout,  and 

succeeded  in  sending 
out  accurate  news  to 
their  papers. 

It  was  one  of  these 
successful      newspaper 
men,   and   a    Japanese 
at  that,  who  originated 
the  idea  of  using  a  bal- 
loon to  help  him  get  to 
the  front,  as  well  as  to 
keep  him  safely  ont  of 
the    reach  of  both  con- 
testants.    He  procured 
a   balloon,    several,    iu 
fact — and  had  a  pecul- 
iar metal  frame -work 
constructed,  which  held 
him  firmly  in  place  un- 
der the  balloon,  and  left 
his  arms  free,  so  that  he 
could  use  them  to  write, 
or  to  work  a  huge  cam- 
era  that   was   also  at- 
tached  and    supported 
by  the  same  iron  frame. 
By  means  of  straps  over 
his  shoulders  and  about 
his  body  he  could  keep 
himself  moderately  firm 
in  his  position,  and  his 
camera  reasonably  sta- 
tionary,     except,       of 

course,  for  the  movements  of  the  balloon   itself,  which  he 
could  not  regulate. 

Several  times  this  correspondent  was  sent  up  in  his  bal- 
loon, ami  In-Ill  by  an  assistant,  with  the  help  of  a  long  rope 
far  above  houses,  and  even  hills,  so  that  he  could  take  pho- 
io".r;i|>hs  on  his  huge  lens  of  the  general  view  of  a  battle, 
while  he  himself  was  either  too  far  away  or  too  nnimpor- 
lani  at  the  moment  to  the  combatants  to  tempt  them  to  fire 
upon  him.  In  this  way  he  succeeded  in  securing  some  as- 
tonishing views.  They  were,  of  course,  very  far  removed 
from  the  scene  of  action,  too  far  to  give  much  of  the  small 
di -tails,  but  they  presented  u  bird's-eye  view  of  the  whole 
battle,  which  proved  of  great  interest.  Occasionally,  be- 
eause  of  .-i  smlden  movement  of  the  balloon,  he  " took ''  the 
skv  or  a  distant  landscape  instead  of  the  raging  battle 
beneath  him,  but  these  little  mistakes  were  insignificant 
when,  on  being  hauled  down,  he  discovered  two  or  three 
views  that  showed  charges  of  cavalry  here,  repulses  of  in- 


fantry there,  and  smoke  and  strife,  bursting  shells  and  burn- 
in"  houses,  every  where. 

Sometimes  the  photographer  would  go  up  in  hi.-  camera- 
balloon  without  being  held  to  the  earth  by  a  rope,  and 
then  he  might  drift  with  the  wind  over  the  battle-field,  or 
quietly  drift  away  without  getting  a  chance  to  "shoot." 
As  a  rule, however,  calculations  were  pretty  well  made  be- 
fore the  rope  was  dropped,  and  then  the  balloon  was  al- 
lowed to  float  where  it  would,  with  the  comparative  cer- 
tainty that  it  would  pass  over,  or  nearly  over,  the  scene  of 

action. 

Here  is  a  chance  for  photographers  who  want  to  take 
new  scenes  and  original  things  with  their  cameras.  The 
earth  at  a  few  hundred  feet  distance  would  look  like  a  big 
bowl  covered  with  many  little  roofs,  laced  with  white  roads, 
along  which  funny  little  animals  would  be  seen  crawling 
along  at  a  snail's  pace. 

OUR  FLAG. 

FLING  it  from  mast  and  steeple, 
Symbol  o'er  land  and  sea. 
Of  the*  life  of  a  happy  people, 
Gallant  and  strong  and  free. 
Proudly  we  view  its  colors, 

Flag  of  the  brave  and  true, 
With  the  clustered  stars  and  the  steadfast  bars, 
The  red,  the  white,  and  the  blue. 

Flag  of  the  fearless-hearted, 

Flag  of  the  broken  chain, 
Flag  in  a  day-dawn  started, 

Never  to  pale  or  wane. 
Dearly  we  prize  its  colors, 

With  the  heaven  light  breaking  through, 
The  clustered  stars  and  the  steadfast  bars, 

The  red,  the  white,  and  the  blue. 

Flag  of  the  sturdy  fathers, 

Flag  of  the  loyal  sous, 
r.eneath  its  folds  it  gathers 

Earth's  best  and  noblest  ones. 
Boldly  we  wave  its  colors, 

Our  veins  are  thrilled  anew ; 
By  the  steadfast  bars,  the  clustered  stars, 

The  red,  the  white,  and  the  blue. 

MARGARET  E.  SAXGSTER. 


PHOTOGRAPHER    AT    WORK. 


A  WISE  old  doctor,  for  the  benefit  ot  his  health,  travelled 
around  the  country  iu  a  caravan,  in  which  he  lived, 
stopping  for  short  periods  at  the  larger  towns.  He  had  a 
young  lad  for  an  assistant,  who  was  more  or  less  quirk  and 
intelligent,  but  rather  inclined  to  jump  at  conclusions. 
The  doctor  taught  him  a  little  medicine  whenever  he  could 
spare  the  time,  and  he  learned  considerable,  but  diagnosis 
were  to  him  still  a,  mystery,  especially  iu  some  cases,  when 
the  wise  old  doctor  had  used  his  eyes  to  detect  the  source 
of  the  illness. 

They  were  staying  for  a  few  days  in  the  town  of  B , 

and  the  doctor  had  been  in  some  demand,  having  at  a  pre- 
vious visit  secured  a  reputation  by  some  apparently  mar- 
vellous cures.  His  young  assistant  accompanied  him  on 
one  occasion,  when  the  doctor  had  pronounced  the  patient 
sick  from  eating  too  many  oysters.  This  puzzled  the  lad. 
and  when  they  left  the  house  he  asked  his  master  how  he 
knew  the  patient  had  been  eating  oysters.  "  Very  simple," 
his  master  replied,  "  I  saw  a  lot  of  oyster  shells  in  the  fire- 
place, and  the  answers  to  a  few  questions  were  all  I  needed 
to  make  a  diagnosis." 

One  day,  his  master  being  away  when  a  call  came,  he 
determined  to  answer  it,  and  see  if  he  could  diagnose  the 
case.  He  returned  shortly  after,  and  triumphantly  told  the 
doctor  that  the  man  was  sick  from  eating  too  much  horse. 
"  A  horse,  you  stupid  fool !"  cried  the  irate  doctor.  "  What 
do  you  mean?" 

"Why,  master,  it    couldn't  be  anything  else,  because  I 
saw  a  saddle  and  stirrups  under  the  bed." 


598 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


A    PLEASANT    DISAPPOINTMENT. 

BY  J.  SANFORD   BARNES,  JUN, 

I  DON'T  believe  that  Mr.  Henry  ever  thought  what  a 
queer  combination  of  nicknames  his  son  would  have 
when  lie  named  him  Thomas  Richard.  Some  called  him 
"Tom, "some  "Dick,"  and  others,  instead  of  calling  him  by 
his  last  name,  Henry,  changed  that,  too,  to  " Harry,"  so  he 
became  Tom,  Dick,  and  Harry  rolled  into  one. 

Mr.  Henry  was  a  great  sportsman,  and  many  a  time  had 
Tom  listened  to  his  father  and  one  of  his  friends  plan  out 
a  day's  shooting.  Tom  had  often  made  his  little  plans, 
only  to  be  carried  out  in  his  dreams.  But  at  last,  one  Sep- 
tember evening,  in  his  twelfth  year,  dreams  could  no  longer 
satisfy  him.  As  he  sat  in  his  father's  "den"  after  supper, 
looking  for  the  hundredth  time  through  the  book  of  colored 
sporting  incidents  and  game-birds, taking  occasional  long 
glances  at  the  little  sixteen -bore  which  hung  over  his 
father's  head,  as  he  sat  at  his  desk  reading  the  Fun-it  mnl 
Stream,  Tom  was  really  developing  a  plan.  He  must  go 
shooting,  and  with  a  real  gun  of  some  kind.  "Sling-shots" 
he  was  done  with  ;  then  he  knew  if  he  asked  permission, 
•what  the  answer  would  be,  and  therefore  he  decided  that 
his  hunting-trip  must  be  made  "  on  the  sly,"  and  this  alone 
was  one  cause  for  the  rather  restless  night  which  followed. 
As  he  turned  the  pages  of  the  big  book  he  began  to  imag- 
ine himself  in  the  place  of  the  tall  man  in  the  picture  just 
taking  a  partridge  from  his  dog's  mouth,  and  on  the  next 
page  he  was  the  short  thick-set  man  in  brown  hunting- 
coat  walking  up  to  his  dogs,  who  were  "  stiff"  and  "  stanch  " 
on  a  covey  of  quail,  which  in  pictures  you  can  always  see 
hiding  in  the  clump  of  bushes. 

Now,  Tom,  Dick,  and  Harry  had  a  friend,  and  that  friend 
had  a  Flobert  rifle,  and  on  that  friend's  willingness  to  lend 
he  was  counting  strongly.  The  game  did  not  seem  to 
worry  him;  he  kept  thinking  of  a  certain  patch  of  black- 
berry bushes  just  outside  a  small  piece  of  woods,  where  he 
had  often  started  up  an  old  cock  partridge,  in  fact,  he  knew 
so  much  about  that  partridge  that  once  he  crept  up  on  him, 
and  almost  got  a  shot  at  him  with  the  now-to-be-despised 
"sling-shot";  and  with  a  Flobert — even  if  his  father  had 
said  that  no  true  sportsman  would  shoot  a  bird  on  the 
"sit" — he  felt  sure  he  could  get  him,  aud  if  he  did  he'd 
come  home,  own  up,  and  trust  to  luck  for  the  rest,  but  lie 
was  somewhat  doubtful  as  to  the  reception  he  would  meet. 

The  morning  was  bright  and  clear  as  Tom  left  the  house 
to  go  down  aud  "see  what  Jim  Vail  was  going  to  do  that 
day,"  aud  once  outside  the  gate  excitement  again  got  hold 
of  him,  aud  he  broke  into  a  run;  it  was  well  he  did,  for 
about  ten  minutes  later,  as  he  turned  into  Mr.  Vail's  place, 
Jim  was  on  the  point  of  mounting  bis  bicycle  to  start  for 
a  ride. 

••  >:iy,  Jim,"  he  shouted,  "  wait  a  second;  I  waut  to  ask 
you  something." 

"Well,  Tommy,"  he  answered,  "  what  can  I  do  for  you 
to-day  ?  I'm  going  to  get  some  exercise  and  get  in  shape 
for  football  at  school ;  I  got  a  letter  from  Ted  yesterday, 
and  he  asked  me  to.  I  guess  he's  written  to  the  rest  of  last 
year's  team  to  do  the  same  thing.  I  suppose  you're  going  to 
ride  your  pony.  But,  really,  what  do  you  want  .''' 

"  Jim,"  said  Tom,  "I'm  going  to  ask  a  favor  of  you.  But 
first  I  waut  you  to  say  you  won't  tell  anybody  anything 
about  it.  You  won't,  will  you  ?" 

"Of  course  not ;  but  what  it  is  ?"  replied  Jim. 

"Well, "said  Tom,  slowly,  "I'm  going  shooting,  and  I 
want  you  to  lend  me  your  Flobert  rifle ;  you  don't  use  it 
very  much  since  your  father  gave  you  that  beauty  gun. 
I'll  be  careful,  and  I'll  clean  it  all  up  for  you  when  I'm 
done.  Say,  will  you  do  it  ?" 

Jim  saw  a  chance  for  a  little  lecture,  and  came  near  giv- 
ing it,  but  he  thought  of  his  popularity  with  the  small  boys 
and  resisted. 

"But, Tom,"  he  answered,  "how  are  you  going  to  work 
it?  I'll  lend  it  to  you, of  course, but  I  don't  waut  to  get 
into  any  scrape  with  your  father,  and  you'd  better  be  care- 
ful, too.  Now,  what's  your  plan  ?" 

Toui  had  this  all  arranged  the  moment  he  had  seen  Jim 
aud  the  bicycle. 


"I've  got  that  all  fixed,"  said  Tom.  "Sa\.\oii  don't 
mind  where  you  ride,  do  you?  Now,  I  tell  you  what  you 
do;  just  give  me  some  cartridges,  and  then  you  start  oft' 
with  the  rifle  on  your  'bike,'  and  ride  down  the  hill  by 
•  Daddy  Wilson's' — that's  where  I'm  going  to  go  shooting. 
When  you  get  to  the  bridge,  get  off  just  a  minute,  and  go 
down  nuder  the  bridge  aud  leave  it  on  top  the  highest  Ing 
nmler  the  boards  on  this  side  the  brook,  and  then  ride  on 
and  forget  all  about  it.  Catch  ?" 

Jim  "caught," and  after  another  word  of  warning  to  be 
very  careful,  both  in  regard  to  the  rifle  and  getting  caught, 
he  started,  having  left  a  bos  of  Flobert  cartridges  with 
Tom. 

"  Daddy  Wilson's"  was  quite  a  mile  and  a  half  from  Jim's 
house  ;  hut  it  did  not  take  Tom  long  to  cover  the  distance, 
aud  iu  a  very  short-  time  he  was  under  the  bridge  aud  out 
agaiu  on  the  other  side  with  the  rifle  under  his  arm.  His 
experience  had  been  very  limited  with  firearms,  but  he  had 
a  natural  gift  of  being  "handy"  with  almost  anything, 
and  he  acted  as  though  hunting  were  an  old  pastime,  and 
the  gun  a  companion  of  years.  However,  he  thought  it 
best  to  try  aud  sec'  how  it  went,  aud  was  just  taking  aim  at 
a  little  yellow  chipmunk,  when  the  sound  of  an  approach- 
ing carriage  made  him  change  his  mind,  and  dart  under  the 
bridge  and  wait ;  he  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  certain  fa- 
miliar white  horse,  and  as  it  trotted  over  the  bridge,  shak- 
ing a  little  stream  of  dust  through  the  cracks  and  down  his 
neck,  he  realized  he  bad  had  a  narrow  escape  After  it 
had  gone  by,  he  tried  his  aim  on  an  old  greeu  frog,  aud  laid 
him  out  ".flatter'n  a  pan-cake,"  as  he  said  to  himself.  Two 
or  three  more  trials  were  made,  and  he  started  through  the 
woods  for  his  blackberry  patch,  first  walking  very  care- 
fully, and  finally  creeping  on  all  fours;  but  whatever  the 
reason,  that  wily  cock  partridge  had  had  his  breakfast  and 
declined  to  be  found,  and  Tom  was  disappointed  and  cast 
down ;  he  had  counted  on  that  bird  to  ease  the  reception 
he  would  meet  at  home,  and  now  he  would  have  to  return 
empty  handed.  However,  he  made  up  his  mind  "  he'd  shoot 
something,"  aud  for  an  hour  or  more  he  popped  ineffectu- 
ally at  chipmunks  and  small  birds,  and  was  really  enjoying 
the  sport,  when  it  struck  him  that  late  to  dinner  would  re- 
quire au  explanation,  and  thus  greatly  increase  the  chances 
of  the  very  thiug  which  he  now  wanted  to  avoid.  So  he 
hurried  towards  home,  and  went  iu  through  the  place  by  a 
back  way,  intending  to  leave  the  rifle  at  the  stable.  The 
coachman  was  a  good  friend  of  his,  and  would  clean  aud 
return  it,  and  everything  would  be  all  right  agaiu.  Now 
it  happened  that  Mr.  Henry  was  having  built  a  small  shed 
and  tool-house  behind  his  house,  aud,  as  luck  would  have 
it,  he  was  watching  its  progress  at  the  very  moment  when 
Tom  emerged  from  behind  some  bushes,  and  unconsciously 
was  walking  down  this  back  road  towards  the  stable  with 
the  Flobert  held  close  along  his  leg  on  the  side  farthest 
away  from  the  house, so  that  "no  one  could  guess  he  had 
anything."  All  looked  smooth  sailing.  Suddenly  he  was 
startled  by  a  familiar  voice, 

•'  Hey,  Tom !"  it  called  ;  "  what  you  got  there  ?" 

There  was  no  escape. 

"A  rifle,  sir,"  replied  Tom,  in  a  rather  muffled  voice. 

"A  what!"  cried  the  voice. 

"  A  rifle,  sir,"  replied  Tom,  again. 

"  Bring  it  here,"  was  the  short  reply,  and  over  across  the 
field  went  Tom  to  his  doom. 

"  Go  back  there  and  get  one  of  those  carpenters  to  give 
you  a  good  sized  shingle,"  said  Mr.  Henry,  "aud  give  me 
the  gun." 

"Well,"  said  Tom  to  himself,  "I  knew  I  was  taking 
risks,"  and  he  returned  in  a  moment  with  the  shingle,  aud 
looking  his  father  straight  iu  the  eye  waited  the  uext 
command. 

"Now,"  said  Mr.  Henry,  iu  his  severest  tones,  "take  that 
shingle  and  put  it  up  against  that  big  tree,  aud  give  me 
a  cartridge." 

Surprise  and  wonder  are  no  names  for  the  feelings  that 
ran  through  Tom's  mind;  it  made  him  tingle  up  and  down 
his  backbone — he  couldn't  say  a  single  word;  but  there 
were  more  surprises  to  follow. 

"What  you  been  shooting,  Tommy?     Elephants,  heyf" 


599 


HARPEK'S   ROUND   TABLE 


HE   CAUGHT   A   GLIMPSE!   OF   A   CERTAIN    FAMILIAR    WHITE    HORSE. 


said  Mr.  Heury,  after  firing  all  the  cartridges  Tom  had  left; 
"or  was  it  only  small  game — a  panther  or  lynx — you  were 
after  tbis  morning  .'" 

Tom's  courage  began  to  return,  and  as  lie  found  liis  father 
in  such  a  splendid  mood  he  was  not  going  to  allow  himself 
to  be  blufi'ed. 

"I  went  out  after  partridges,  sir,"  he  said,  "and  I  thought 
I'd  have  one  for  supper  to-night  for  mamma ;  hut  he  wasn't 
there.  I  was  sure  I'd  get  one." 

lu  a  short  time  Mr.  Henry  had  the  whole  story,  and  not 
a  word  of  fault  was  found,  and  Tom  thought  he  had  the 
finest  father  in  the  world ;  he  thought  so  before,  but  after 
this  incident  there  was  uo  doubt  about  it. 

Ou  the  evening  of  the  same  day  Tom  was  again  devour- 
ing the  "  bird  hook,"  as  he  had  always  called  it.  Mr.  Henry, 
who  had  been  writing  at  his  desk,  pushed  himself  back,  and 
looking  at  Tom,  a  smile  crept  over  his  face.  His  son  was 
exactly  as  he  had  been  at  that  age,  and  the  reason  of  his 
lenient  treatment  of  what  many  fathers  would  have  given 
a  severe  punishment  for  was  because  he  knew  a  good  deal 
of  the  world,  and  especially  how  to  treat  a  boy  who  had 
inherited  a  sportsman's  love  of  woods  and  guns,  and  was 
not  to  blame  for  it.  Tom  was  bending  close  over  the  book 
to  see  whether  it  was  a  woodcock  or  a  quail  the  dog  was 
pointing,  wheu  Mr.  Heury  startled  him  as  he  said  with  a 
laugh, 

"My  boy,  did  yon  really  think  you'd  get  a  partridge? 
Why,  Dr.  Carver  himself  couldn't  shoot  a  partridge  with  a 
rifle ;  why  didn't  yon  come  and  ask  me  for  my  gun  ?" 

'"Cause  I  didn't  think  you'd  lend  it  to  me, "said  Tom, 
"  and  I  was  afraid  you'd  suspect  something.  I'll  come  to 
you  to-morrow,"  he  added,  as  a  quiet  joke  on  his  father. 

But  the  way  his  father  took  his  little  joke  nearly  made 
him  "  have  a  fit,"  as  ho  told  Jim  Vail  afterwards. 

"All  right,  Tommy,"  said  Mr.  Heury,  "  come  to  me  after 
breakfast  and  I'll  fix  you  out." 

Auother  restless  night  followed  by  another  beautiful 
morning,  and  down  across  the  field  trudged  Tom,  Dick,  aud 
Harry,  but  it  looked  like  a  brown  shooting-coat  walking 
by  itself  with  two  setters  following  after  it  through  curi- 
osity. There  went  Tom  with  a  real  guu — the  little  six- 


teen-bore — a  real  hnuting- 
coat, sleeves  rolled  up  aud 
pinned  to  hold  them,  aud 
down  below  his  knees,  to 
be  sure ;  real  cartridges  in 
his  pocket,  aud  to  make  it 
complete  two  real  bird- 
dogs.  He  was  goiug  to  be 
the  man  iu  the  "  bird  book," 
aud  best  of  all  there  was  uo 
"on  the  sly  "  about  it. 

Down  back  of  the  place 
beyond  the  "muck  pond," 
where  Tom  had  often 
caught  live  bait  for  his  fa- 
ther, and  had  slaughtered 
many  a  fine  fat  frog,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  turtles  and 
lizards  which  had  been  the 
starting  of  a  small  museum 
of  whicli  he  was  sole  propri- 
etor, down  beyond  this 
pond  he  struck  into  the 
woods  aud  let  "Jet"  the 
Gordon  and  "Bang"  the 
Irish  setter  run.  He  fol- 
lowed them  closely.  Soon 
they  came  to  a  point,  and 
he  walked  towards  them. 
But  here's  where  there 
was  a  difference  between 
the  picture  aud  his  po- 
sition at  that  moment;  he 
looked  in  vain  for  the 
bird;  in  the  picture  he 
could  see  it,  hut,  try  his 

best,  lie  could  not  see  it  in  life.  The  dogs  worried  a  little, 
he  stepped  on  a  twig  which  cracked;  whir!  and  up  got 
Mr.  Partridge  from  the  bushes — not  exactly  where  Tom 
had  expected — and  whirled  off,  Tom  crouching  down  to 
see  w  here  he  lit,  to  try  him  again.  Time  and  again  the 
same  thing  happened,  but  Tom  never  could  seem  to  see  the 
bird  till  he  got  up,  and  he  never  thought  to  try  him  Hying. 
The  dogs  got  tired  of  this  kind  of  shooting  aud  came  iu  "to 
heel,"  and  finally,  rather  discouraged  and  decidedly  tired, 
Tom  sat  down  to  decide  whether  he  would  go  home  or  not. 
He  was  sitting  under  a  large  pine-tree  aud  thinking  what 
his  father  would  say,  when  out  of  the  branches  above  his 
head  sailed,  with  a  quiet,  subdued  whir,  the  very  bird  he 
had  been  chasing  so  long.  It  settled  not  more  thau  thirty 
yards  off  on  the  roots  of  an  upturned  birch-tree  and  began 
a  gentle  cluck,  spreading  its  faulike  tail  and  shaking  its 
feathers,  but  only  for  a  moment.  Tom's  chance  had  come. 
A  hurried  and  excited  aim,  a  loud  bang,  and  the  partridge 
was  fluttering  on  the  ground,  and  Tom  was  stooping  over 
it;  the  gun  was  back  where  he  had  shot  from;  he  had 
gotten  to  the  bird  before  the  dogs.  What  he  w  anted  was 
a  partridge  in  his  coat  pocket ;  he  did  not  seem  so  anxious 
to  have  the  dogs  hand  it  to  him  as  his  dreams  had  made 
him. 

Tell  the  truth,  Tom  ran  most  of  the  way  home.  He  met 
his  father  on  the  driveway,  and  a  sudden  composure  took 
hold  of  him. 

"Say,  Pop,"  he  said,  "it  aiu'fc  so  easy  as  one  thinks,  is  it?" 
"I'll  bet  yon  didn't  get  anything,  not  even  a  chipper 
bird,"  said  Mr.  Henry  ;  "  now  did  you  ?" 

Tom  braced  himself,  his  heart  was  beating  fast,  aud  the 
shivers  were  agatn  making  him  jump  and  wriggle. 

"I  only  got  one  decent  shot,"  replied  Tom,  beginning 
very  coolly,  "but  I  got  him,  aud  mamma '11  have  that  bird 
I  didn't  get  yesterday  to-night  for  supper.  Look  at  that!" 
he  shouted  the  last  part  of  his  sentence,  and  swinging  the 
bird  in  front  of  his  father's  face,  darted  past  to  show  and 
tell  all  iu  the  house,  leaving  Mr.  Henry  in  blank  astouish- 
luent.  What  he  was  saying  to  himself  was: 

"  I'll  get  that  boy  the  prettiest  gun  iu  the  city  for  Christ- 
mas, that's  what  I'll  do;  he'll  he  giving  aie  points  before 
long." 


600 


SNOW-SHOES    AND     SLEDGES. 


BY     KIRK     M  U  X  R  O  E. 


C  H  A  P  T  E  n     XXIX. 

A   WILDKP.XESS   (USPIIAX. 

HE  position  in  which  Phil  now  found  liimself  was  cer- 
tainly  a  perplexing  one.  I3y  the  very  simple  process 
of  getting  lost  he  had  discovered  Cree  Jim's  cabin,  lint  was 
appalled  to  consider  what  else  he  had  found  at  the  same 
time.  He  uo\v  knew  that  the  remainder  of  their  journey, 
its  most  difficult  and  dangerous  portion,  must  he  under- 
taken without  a  guide.  Not  only  this,  but  they  must  be 
burdened  with  a  child  so  young  as  to  he  practically  help- 
less. In  the  mean  time,  what  was  to  be  done  with  those 
silent  and  motionless  forms  whose  dread  presence,  so  per- 
vaded that  lonely  cabin  ?  And  how  was  he  to  communi- 
cate with  his  friends?  There  was  no  back  trail  to  follow, 
for  the  snow  had  wiped  it  out.  He  did  not  even  know  in 
which  direction  camp  lay,  for  in  the  ardor  of  his  chase  the 
evening  before  he  had  taken  no  note  of  course  nor  dis- 
tance. 

There  was  the  stream,  though,  on  whose  bank  the  cabin 
was  perched.  It  must  flow  into  the  river.  Yes,  that  was 
his  only  hope.  But  the  river  might  be  miles  away,  and  the 
camp  as  much  farther,  if,  indeed,  it  could  still  be  found 
where  he  had  left  it.  But  of  course  it  would  he!  So  long 
as  Serge  Belcofslcy  and  Jalap  Coombs  had  life  and  strength 
to  search  for  him  that  camp  would  remain  a  permanent  fix- 
ture until  he  returned  to  it.  Phil  was  absolutely  sure  of 
that,  and  he  now  realized,  as  never  before,  the  priceless 
value  of  a  friendship  whose  loyalty  is  beyond  doubt. 

So  the  plan  was  formed.  He  would  go  down  the  stream 
and  up  the  river  until  he  found  camp.  Then  he  would 
bring  Serge  and  a  sledge  back  with  him.  In  the  mean  time 
the  child  must  be  left  where  he  was,  for  Phil  doubted  if 
he  could  carry  him  over  the  weary  miles  that  hi!  knew 


must  lie  between  the  cabin  and  camp,  while  for  the  little 
fellow  to  walk  that  distance  was  out  of  the  question. 

Phil  sat  on  a  stool  before  the  lire  while  doing  all  this 
thinking.  As  he  rose  to  carry  out  his  plan,  Nel-te,  who 
was  becoming  terrified  at  his  mother's  silence  in  spite  of 
his  efforts  to  attract  her  attention,  slipped  from  the  bed, 
ran  to  his  new  friend,  and  thrusting  a  cold  little  hand  into 
one  of  his,  looked  up  with  a  smile  of  such  perfect  trust  that 
Phil  snatched  him  in  his  arms  and  kissed  him,  at  the  same 
lime  giving  him  a  great  ling. 

Then  lie  said:  "Now, Nel-te,  brother  Phil  is  going  away 
for  a  little  while  to  get  some  doggies  for  you  to  play  with, 
and  you  must  stay  here  like  a  good  boy,  and  not  open  the 
door  until  he  comes  back.  Do  you  understand  ?" 

"Yes;  me  go  get  doggies.  Nel-te  like  doggies.  Good 
doggies."  And  almost  before  Phil  knew  what  the  child 
was  about  he  had  slipped  from  his  arms,  run  to  the  door, 
and  was  putting  on  the  tiny  snow-shoes  that  had  been  left 
outside.  Then  with  an  engaging  smile,  he  called,  cheerily  : 
"Come.  Nel-te  say  come.  Get  doggies." 

"  All  right,  little  chap.  I  expect  your  plan  is  as  good  as 
mine,  after  all,"  replied  Phil,  into  whose  mind  had  just 
Hashed  the  promise  made  to  that  dead  mother,  never  to 
desert  her  baby.  "  And  here  I  was,  about  to  begin  by  doing 
that  very  thing,''  he  reflected  as  he  glanced  at  the  marble 
face  overspread  by  an  expression  of  perfect  content  that 
his  promise  had  brought. 

Moved  by  a  sudden  impulse  he  picked  up  the  boy,  and, 
bringing  him  back,  held  him  so  that  he  might  kiss  the 
peaceful  face.  This  the  child  did  with  a  soft  cooing  that 
served  to  convey  both  love  and  pity.  Then  be  ran  to  the 
stalwart  figure  that  still  lay  on  the  floor,  and,  patting  its 
swarthy  cheek,  said  something  in  the  Cree  tongue  that  Phil 
did  not  understand. 


'A    FLYING-FISH-CATCHER    FHOM    OLD    HONG-KONTG-YO    I1U!    I1OLI,    A    MAN    DO\VN ! 

601 


HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE 


After  that  Phil  carefully  closed  the  door  to  prevent  the 
intrusion  of  wild  beasts,  anil  tin-  two.  whose  fortunes  had 
become  so  strangely  interwoven,  set  forth  together  down 
the  white  surface  of  the  forest-bordered  stream,  on  whose 
bank  Nel-te  had  been  born  and  passed  his  few  years  of 
life.  He  was  happily  but  unconsciously  venturing  on  his 
In-.-,  i  "little  journey  into  the  world,"  while  his  companion 
w  MS  lilleil  with  a  sense  of  manliness  and  responsibility  from 
the  experiences  through  which  he  had. just  passed  that  the 
mere  adding  of  years  could  never  have  brought. 

I'hil  wondered  at  the  ease  with  which  the  little  fellow 
managed  his  snow-shoes,  until  he  reflected  that  the  child 
had  probably  been  taught  to  use  them  from  the  day  of 
taking  his  tirst,  step.  So  the  two  fur-clad  figures,  ridicu- 
lously contrasted  in  si/.e,  ti inlged  along  side  by  side  down 
the  winding  stream,  the  one  thoughtfully  silent  and  the 
other  chattering  of  "doggies,"  until  lie,  began  to  lag  behind 
and  give  signs  that  the  pace  was  telling  on  his  slender 
strength. 

"Poor  little  chap, "said  Phil.  "But  I  had  been  expect- 
ing it,  and  now  we  will  try  another  scheme."  So,  slinging 
the  tiny  snow-shoes  across  the  child's  back,  he  picked  him 
ii]i  and  set  him  astride  his  own  broad  shoulders;  when 
Nel-te  clutched  his  head,  and  shouted  with  glee  at  this  de- 
lightful mode  of  travel. 

After  they  had  gone  a  mile  or  so  in  this  fashion  they 
rounded  a  sharp  bend,  and  came  so  suddenly  upon  poor 
Serge,  who  was  making  his  way  up  the  stream  in  search  of 
some  trace  of  his  friend,  that  for  a  moment  he  stood 
motionless  and  speechless  with  amazement.  He  could 
make  nothing  of  the  approaching  apparition  until  Phil 
shouted,  cheerily : 

"Hurrah,  old  man!  Here  we  are,  safe  and  sound,  and 
awfully  glad  to  see  you." 

"  Oh,  Phil !"  cried  Serge,  while  tears  actually  stood  in  his 
honest  blue  eyes,  "I  can  hardly  believe  it!  It  seems  al- 
most too  good  to  be  true.  Are  you  sure  you  are  not 
wounded  nor  frozen  nor  hurt  in  any  way?  Haven't  you 
suffered  terribly?  If  you  haven't,  we  have.  I  don't  be- 
lie, e  Mr.  Coombs  slept  a  wink  last  night,  aud  I  know  I 
didn't.  But  I  am  happy  enough  at  this  minute  to  make 
up  for  it  all,  a  hundred  times  over.  Oh,  Phil!" 

"I  have  suffered  a  little  from  anxiety, aud  been  a  tritle 
hungry,  and  had  some  sad  experiences,  but  I  haven't  suf- 
fered half  so  much  as  I  deserved  for  my  carelessness  in 
getting  lost.  I  found  Cree  Jim,  though  ;  but — " 

"And  brought  him  with  you?"  interrupted  Serge,  suiil- 
iug  for  the  first  time  iu  many  hours,  as  he  glanced  at  the 
quaint  little  figure  perched  on  Phil's  shoulders. 

"Not  exactly,"  replied  the  other,  soberly.  "  You  see  this 
little  chap  is  his  son,  and  I've  adopted  him  for  a  sort  of  a 
brother,  aud  he  is  going  with  us." 

"  You've  done  what  ?"  cried  Serge. 

"Adopted  him.  That  is,  jou  see  I  promised  my  aunt 
Kuth  to  bring  her  something  from  Alaska  that  was  unique 
in  the  way  of  a  curio,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  Nel-te  here 
will  please  her  about  as  well  as  anything.  Don't  you  think 

"Perhaps  so,"  assented  Serge,  doubtfully.  "  But  was  his 
1. 1 1  her  willing  that  you  should  have  him?" 

"  Oh  yes,  perfect  1\ .  That  is,  you  know  he  is  dead,  and  so 
is  the  mother;  but  I  promised  her  to  take  care  of  the  lit.tlo 
chap,  and  as  there  wasn't  anything  else  to  be  done,  why, 
lii-re  we  arc." 

"(if  course  it's  all  right  if  you  say  so,"  agreed  Serge. 
"and  I  don't  care,  so  loug  as  you  are  safe,  if  you  carry  a 
whole  tribe  back  to  your  aunt  Ruth;  but  now  don't  you 
think  we'd  better  be  getting  along  to  camp  ?  It  was  all  I 
could  do  to  persuade  Mr.  Coombs  to  stay  behind  and  look 
out  for  things;  lie  is  so  anxious.  The  only  way  I  could 
induce  him  lo  was  by  suggesting  that  yon  might  come  in 
tired  and  hungry,  and  would  feel  awfully  if  no  one  was 
t  hen-  to  \>  cleome  you.  But  he  is  liable  to  set  out  on  a  hunt 
for  von  at  any  moment  " 

"  Certainly,  we  must  get  there  as  quickly  as  possible," 
replied  1'hil.  "  How  far  is  itt" 

"Not  more  than  one  mile  up  the  river  from  the  monl h 
of  this  creek,  which  is  only  a  few  rods  below  here.  But  oh, 


Phil,  to  think  that  I  have  found  you!  When  I  had  almost 
given  up  all  hope  of  ever  again  seeing  you  alive  too.  I  have 
been  down  as  far  as  our  first  camp  on  the  river  this  morn- 
ing, and  tliis  creek  was  my  last  hope.  I  wouldn't  have 
left  the  country  without  you,  though,  or  at  any  rate  without 
knowing  what  had  become,  of  you.  Neither  would  Mr. 
Coombs.  We  settled  that  last  night  while  we  talked  over 
what  had  best  be  done." 

"I  was  sure  you  wouldn't,  old  fellow,"  replied  Phil,  with 
something  like  a  choke  iu  his  voice. 

At  the  camp  they  were  hailed  by  Jalap  Coombs,  who  al- 
most hugged  Phil  iu  his  revulsion  of  feeling  and  unaffected 
joy  at  the  lad's  return. 

"But  you  don't  do  it  agaiu,  Philip,  my  son!"  he  cried. 
"That  is,  the  next  time  you  feels  inclined  to  wander  from 
home  and  «tay  out  nights,  ye  may  go,  of  course,  but  you'll 
have  to  take  me  along.  So  ef  you  gits  lost,  I  gets  lost  like- 
wise; for,  as  niy  old  friend  Kite  Eoberson  useter  say  con- 
saining  prodergal  sons,  'It's  ailers  toughest  on  them  as  is 
left  behind.'  But  Phil,  what  be  ye  doing  with  that  furry 
little  beggar  ?  Is  ho  the  pilot  ye  went  sarching  for  ?" 

"  Yes,''  laughed  Phil,  lifting  Nel-te  down  from  his  shoul- 
ders. "He  is  the  pilot  who  is  to  lead  us  from  this  wilder- 
ness, aud  if  you  have  got  anything  to  eat,  you'd  better  gi\e 
it  to  him  before  he  devo  urs  oue  of  the  dogs,  which  he  seems 
inclined  to  do.  I  can  answer  for  it  that  he  has  been  on 
short  rations  for  several  days,  and  is  properly  hungry." 

"Have  I  got  anything  to  eat?"  cried  the  other.  "Waal, 
rather!  How  does  fresh  steaks, and  roasts,  and  chops, aud 
stews  strike  your  fancy  ?"  With  this  he  pointed  to  oue 
side  of  the  camp,  where,  to  their  astonishment,  the  boys  saw 
a  quantity  of  fresh  meat,  much  of  which  was  already  cut 
into  thin  strips  for  freezing  and  packing. 

"Where  did  it  come  from  ?"  queried  Phil,  looking  at 
Serge;  but  the  latter  only  shook  his  head. 

"It's  jest  a  bit  of  salvage  that  I  raked  in  as  it  went 
drifting  by,"  explained  Jalap  Coombs,  his  face  beaming 
with  gratified  pride.  "It's  some  kind  of  deer-meat,  and  for 
a  deer  he  was  pretty  nigh  as  big  as  one  of  those  elephants 
back  yonder  in  the  moss  cave.  You  see,  he  came  cruising 
along  this  way  shortly  after  Serge  left,  and  the  dogs  give 
chase  and  made  him  heave  to.  When  I  j'ined  'em  he  sur- 
rendered. Then  I  had  my  hands  full  iu  a  hurry,  driving 
oft'  the  dogs  and  lashing  'em  fast  so  as  they  couldn't  eat 
him,  horns  and  all,  and  cutting  of  him  up.  I  hain't  uiore'n 
made  a  beginning  with  him,  either,  for  there's  pretty  nigh 
a  full  cargo  left. 

"But  how  did  you  kill  him?  There  wasn't  any  gun  in 
camp?"  asked  Phil,  utterly  bewildered. 

"  Of  course  there  warn't  no  gun,"  answered  Jalap  Coombs, 
"and  likewise  I  didn't  need  one.  Sich  things  I  leave  for 
boys.  How  did  I  kill  him,  say  you  ?  Why,  I  jest  natur- 
ally harpooned  him  like  I  would  any  other  whale." 

CHAl'TEK    XXX. 
JALAP   AND  THE   DOGS   SING    A    I.rt.LAUY. 

"HARPOONED  a  moose!''  cried  Phil  aud  Serge  together; 
for  they  had  by  this  time  discovered  the  nature  of  the 
sailor's  "big  deer."  "  Aud  where  did  you  get  the  harpoon  V 
asked  the  former. 

"Found  it  leaning  agin  a  tree  while  I  were  out  after 
firewood,"  replied  Jalap  Coombs,  at  the  same  time  produc- 
ing and  proudly  exhibiting  a  heavy  A-yan  spear,  such  as 
were  formerly  used  by  the  natives  of  the  Pelly  Kiver 
valley.  "It  were  a  trille  rusty,  aud  a  trifle  light  in  the 
butt,"  he  added,  "but  it  come  in  mighty  handy  when  it  were 
most  needed,  and  for  an  old  whaler  it  are  not  a  bad  sort  of 
a  weepou.  I'm  free  to  say,  though,  that  I  might  have  had 
hard  luck  iu  tackling  the  beast  with  it  ef  he  hadn't  been 
already  wounded.  I  didn't  know  it  till  after  he  were  dead, 
but  when  I  come  to  cut  him  up.  I  saw  where  he'd  been 
bleeding  pretty  free,  ami  then  I  found  this  bullet  in  his  in- 
nards. Still.  I  don't  reckin  you'd  have  called  him  amouse, 
nor  yet  a  rat,  if  ye'd  .seed  him  like  I  did  under  full  sail, 
with  horns  set  wing  and  wing,  showing  toe  speed  of  a  fifty- 
ton  schooner  If  1  hadn't  had  the  hai-poou  I'd  left  him- 
severely  alone ;  but  I  allowed  that  a,  weepou  as  were  good! 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


enough  for  a  whale  would  do  for  a  ileer,  oven  ef  lie  were 
bigger  than  the  sun." 

"It's  a  rifle-bullet, calibre  forty-four," said  Phil, who  was 
examining  the  bit  of  lead  that  Jalap  Coombs  had  taken 
from  his  "  big  deer."  "  I  wonder  if  it  can  be  possible  that 
he  is  the  same  moose  I  wounded,  and  without  whose  lead 
I  should  never  have  found  C'ree  Jim's  cabin.  It  seems  ill- 
credible  that  he  should  have  come  right  back  to  camp  to 
be  killed,  though  I  suppose  it  is  possible.  Certainly  good 
fortune,  or  good  luck,  does  seem  to  be  pretty  steadily  on 
our  side,  and  without  the  aid  of  the  fur-seal's  tooth  either," 
he  added,  with  a  sly  glance  at  Serge. 

As  soon  as  breakfast  was  finished,  Phil  and  Serge  slipped 
away,  taking  a  sledge,  to  which  was  lashed  a  couple  of  axes, 
with  them.  They  were  going  back  to  bnry  the  parents  of 
the  child,  who  was  so  happily  oblivious  of  their  errand 
that  he  did  not  even  take  note  of  their  departure. 

The  lads  had  no  idea  of  how  they  should  accomplish 
their  sorrowful  task.  Even  with  proper  tools  they  knew 
it  would  be  impossible  to  dig  a  grave  in  the  frozen  ground, 
and  as  they  had  only  axes  with  which  to  work,  this  plan 
was  dismissed  without  discussion. 

They  had  not  settled  on  any  plan  when  they  rounded 
the  last  bend  of  the  little  stream  and  gained  a  point  from 
which  the  cabin  should  have  been  visible.  Then  they  saw 
at  a  glance  that  the  task  they  had  been  dreading  had  been 
accomplished  without  their  aid.  There  was  no  cabin,  but 
a  cloud  of  smoke  rising  from  its  site,  as  from  an  altar,  gave 
ample  evidence  of  its  fate.  A  blazing  log  from  the  fire 
Phil  left  in  its  hearth  must  have  rolled  out  on  to  the  floor 
directly  after  his  departure.  Now  only  a  heap  of  ashes 
and  glowing  embers  remained  to  mark  Nel-te's  home. 

"It  is  best  so,"  said  Phil,  as  the  two  lads  stood  beside 
the  smouldering  ruins  of  what  had  been  a  home  and  was 
now  become  a  sepulchre.  "And  oh,  Serge!  think  what 
might  have  been  the  child's  fate  if  I  had  left  him  behind, 
as  I  at  first  intended.  Poor  little  chap!  I  realize  now,  as 
never  before,  how  completely  his  past  is  wiped  out  and 
how  entirely  his  future  lii-s  in  our  hands.  It  is  a  trust 
that  came  without  our  seeking,  but  I  accepted  it;  and  now 
beside  his  mother's  ashes  I  swear  to  bo  true  to  the  promise 
I  gave  her." 

"  Amen  !"  said  Serge,  softly. 

They  planted  a  rude  wooden  cross,  the  face  of  which  was 
chipped  to  a  gleaming  whiteness,  close  in  front  of  the 
smouldering  heap,  and  near  it  Serge  fastened  a  streamer 
of  white  cloth  to  the  tip  of  a  tall  yonng  spruce.  Cutting 
off  the  limbs  as  he  descended,  he  left  it  a  slender  pole,  and 
thus  provided  the  native  symbol  of  a  place  of  burial. 

As  they  approached  the  camp  they  were  astonished  to 
hear  Jalap  Coombs  singing  in  bellowing  tones  the  rollick- 
ing old  sea  chant  of"  Roll  a  Man  Down!" 

'•  A  flying-fish-catcher  from  old  Hong-Kong — 

Yo  ho  !  roll  a  man  down — 
A  flying-fish-catcher  comes  bowling  along ; 
Give  us  some  time  to  roll  a  man  down, 
Roll  a  man  up  and  roll  a  man  down, 
Give  us  some  time  to  roll  a  man  down. 
From  labhord  to  stabbord  away  we  go — 
Yo  ho!  roll  a  man  down." 

Jalap's  voice  was  not  musical,  but  it  possessed  a  mighty 
volume,  and  as  the  quaint  sea  chorus  roared  and  echoed 
through  the  stately  forest,  the  very  trees  appeared  to  be 
listening  in  silent  wonder  to  the  unaccustomed  sounds. 
Even  Musky,  Luvtuk,  big  Amook,  and  the  other  dogs 
seemed  by  their  dismal  bowlings  to  be  expressing  either 
appreciation  or  disapprobation  of  the  sailor-man's  efforts. 

The  performers  in  this  open-air  concert  were  too  deeply 
intent  on  their  own  affairs  to  pay  any  heed  to  the  approach 
of  the  returning  sledge  party,  who  were  thus  enabled  to 
come  within  full  view  of  a  most  extraordinary  scene  un- 
noticed. Just  beyond  the  camp,  in  a  semicircle,  facing  the 
fire,  a  dozen  dogs,  resting  on  their  haunches,  lifted  both 
their  voices  and  sharp-pointed  noses  to  the  sky.  On  the 
opposite  side  of  the  fire  sat  Jalap  Coombs  holding  Xel-te  in 
his  arms,  rocking  him  to  and  fro  in  time  to  the  chorus  that 
he  was  pouring  forth  with  the  full  power  of  his  lungs,  and 


utterly  oblivious  to  everything  save  his  own  unusual  oc- 
cupation of  putting  a  baby  to  sleep. 

"Ha, ha,  ha!  Ho,  ho,  ho!"  roared  Phil  and  Serge,  unable 
to  restrain  their  mirth  a  moment  longer.  "Oh  my!  Oh 
my!  Oh,  Mr.  Coombs,  you'll  be  the  death  of  me  yet!  What 
ever  are  you  doing?  Didn't  know  you  could  sing!  What 
a  capital  nurse  you  make  !  What  a  soft  voice  for  lullabies! 
The  dogs,  too!  Oh  dear!  I  shall  laugh  at  the  thought 
of  this  if  I  live  to  be  a  hundred!  Don't  mind  us,  though. 
Keep  right  on.  Please  do!" 

But  the  concert  was  ended.  Jalap  Coombs  sprang  to 
his  feet  with  a  startled  yell,  and  dropped  the  child,  who 
screamed  with  the  fright  of  his  sudden  awakening.  The 
dogs,  whose  harmonious  bowlings  were  so  abruptly  inter- 
rupted, slunk  away  with  tails  between  their  legs,  and  hid 
themselves  in  deepest  shadows. 

"There,  there,  little  chap.  Don't  be  frightened,"  cried 
Phil,  darting  forward  and  picking  up  the  child,  though  still 
shaking  with  laughter.  "It's  all  right  now.  Brother 
Phil  will  protect  you,  and  not  let  the  big  man  frighten  you 
any  more." 

"I  frighten  him  indeed!"  retorted  Jalap  Coombs,  indig- 
nantly. "He  was  sleeping  quiet  and  peaceful  as  a  seal 
pup;  and  I  were  just  humming  a  bit  of  a  ditty  that  useter 
be  sung  to  me  when  I  were  a  kid,  so's  he'd  have  something 
pleasant  to  dream  about.  Then  you  young  swabs  had  to 
come  creeping  up  and  yell  like  a  couple  of  wild  hoodoos, 
and  set  the  dogs  to  howling  and  scare  the  kid,  to  say  no- 
thing of  me,  which  ef  I  had  ye  aboard  ship  I'd  masthead  ye 
both  till  ye  larnt  manners.  Oh,  ye  may  snicker!  But  I 
have  my  opinion  all  the  same  of  any  man  as  '11  wake  a 
sleeping  child,  specially  when  he's  wore  out  with  crying, 
all  on  account  of  being  desarted.  And  I'm  not  the  only 
one  nuther.  There  was  old  Kite  Eolierson  who  useter  clap  a 
muzzle  onto  his  wife's  canary  whenever  she'd  get  the  kids 
to  sleep,  for  fear  the  critter'd  bust  inter  singing.  But  it's 
all  right.  You  will  know  how  it  is  yourselves  some 
clay." 

Phil,  seeing  that,  for  the  first  time  since  he  had  known 
him,  the  mate  was  thoroughly  indignant,  set  out  to  smooth 
his  ruffled  feelings. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Coombs,"  he  said,  "  we  didn't  mean  to  startle 
you,  but  those  wretched  dogs  kept  up  such  a  howling  that 
we  couldn't  make  ourselves  heard  as  we  neared  camp.  I'm 
sure  I  don't  see  how  you  could  think  we  were  laughing  at 
you.  It  was  those  absurd  dogs,  and  you'd  have  laughed 
yourself  if  you'd  looked  up  and  seen  them.  I'm  sure  it  was 
awfully  good  of  you  to  take  so  much  trouble  over  this  little 
fellow,  and  put  him  so  nicely  to  sleep  with  your  sing — I 
mean  with  your  humming,  though  I  assure  you  we  didn't 
hear  a  hum." 

"  Waal,"  replied  Jalap  Coombs,  greatly  mollified  by  Phil's 
attitude.  "I  warn't  humming  very  loud, not  nigh  go  loud 
as  I  had  been  at  fust.  Ye  see,  I  were  kinder  tapering  off  so 
as  to  lay  the  kid  down,  and  begin  to  get  supper 'gainst  you 
kim  back.'1 

"Yes,  I  see,"  said  Phil,  almost  choking  with  suppressed 
laughter.  "But  how  did  it  happen  that  you  were  com- 
pelled to  act  as  nurse  ?  The  little  chap  seemed  happy 
enough  when  we  went  away." 

"So  he  were,  till  he  found  you  was  gone.  Then  he  be- 
gun to  pipe  his  eye  and  set  storm  signals,  and  directly  it 
come  on  to  blow  a  hurricane  with  heavy  squalls.  So  I  had 
to  stand  by.  Fust  oft'  I  thought  the  masts  would  surely 
go  ;  but  I  took  a  reef  here  and  there,  and  kinder  got  things 
snugged  down,  till  after  a  whilt  the  sky  broke,  the  sun  kim 
out,  and  fair  weather  sot  in  once  more." 

"Well, "said  Phil,  admiringly,  "you  certainly  acted  with 
the  judgment  of  an  A  No.  1  seaman,  and  I  don't  believe 
even  your  esteemed  friend  Captain  Robinson  could  have 
done  better.  We  shall  call  on  you  whenever  our  little  pilot 
gets  into  troubled  waters  again,  and  feel  that  we  are  pla- 
cing him  in  the  best  possible  hands." 

At  which  praise  Jalap  Coombs  was  greatly  pleased,  and 
said  as  how  he'd  be  proud  at  all  times  to  stand  by  the  kid. 
Thus  on  the  same  day  that  little  Nel-te  McLcod  lost  his 
parents  he  found  a  brother  and  two  stanch  friends. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


603 


HARPER'S     ROUND   TABLE 


UNCLE    SAM    AS  A    STAMP-MAKER. 

BY  FRANCES  BENJAMIN  JOHNSTON. 
ERE.  boys,  is  a  piece-  of  legislation  which  will  add  :i 
new  series  of  stamps  to  your  collections,"  said  Mr. 
Cop. 'land,  as  hi-  glanced  up  from  his  morning  paper.  "  The 
bill  transferring  the  printing  of  stamps  to  the  Bureau  of 
Engraving  and  Printing  has  .just  become  a  law,  and  liore- 
aftcr  1'nele  Sam  will  inaiiiifacture  his  own  stamps,  as  \\.ll 
as  liis  own  paper  money ." 

••  \Vliy.  father,  if  they  make  them  here,  we  can  see  just 
how  it's  done!"  exclaimed  Donald,  tin-  eldest  of  the  Cope- 
land  boys,  who,  with  his  brothers  Jack  and  Ezra,  was  now 
experiencing  the  severest  stage  of  the  "stamp  fever." 

-Hull!"  granted  the  hitter — nicknamed  "The  Parson," 
from  his  o Id-fashioned  ways  and  a  solemn  assumption  of 
wisdom.  "Perhaps  they'll  not  let  you  know  anything  at 
all  aliont  it.  Bobby  Simonds  told  me  that  the  big  company 
in  New  York  that  has  always  made  'em  is  awful  particular 
about  letting  people  see  their  machinery  and  things;  and 
Hobby  ought  to  know  'cause  his  uncle's  an  engraver  there." 

"Are  they  goiug  to  make  all  the  stamps  here  in  Wash- 
ington ?"  broke  in  May,  the  baby  of  the  family.  "  Tliat  'II 
be  nice  for  you  boys, 'cause  you  can  get  'em  cheaper  at  the 
factory,  can't  you?" 

"That's  just  like  a  girl,"  laughed  Jack.  "Anybody  would 
think  they  were  going  to  sell  stamps  by  the  yard." 

"  Well,  my  boy,"  said  Mr.  Copeland,  "  your  sister  is  right, 
in  a  sense,  as  under  this  act  the  Post-office  Department  will 
buy  its  stamps  wholesale  from  the  Bureau  of  Engraving 
and  Printing,  at  a  nominal  price  per  thousand,  without 
reference  to  their  face  value.  I  think  you  also  are  mis- 
taken. Parson, as  the  public  will  doubtless  be  as  free  to  in- 
spect the  manufacture  of  stamps  as  they  now  are  to  see  the 
process  of  bank-note-making.  When  the  stamp-printing 
plant  is  established,  there  should  be  a  great  deal  in  it  to 
interest  you  youngsters.  What  do  yon  say  to  a  tour  of  in- 
vestigation some  Saturday?" 

Their  father's  suggestion  delighted  the  children,  who 
waited  eagerly  for  the  fulfilment  of  the  promise. 

This  came  on  a  bright  October  morning,  when  the  little 
party  climbed  the  hill  beyond  the  towering  Washington 
Monument,  and  reached  the  griin  brick  building  which  is 
known  as  the  Bureau  of  Engraving  and  Printing. 

Here  they  were  shown  into  a  small  reception-room,  and 
kept  waiting,  with  a  throng  of  other  sight- seers,  until 
a  card  from  the  chief  procured  for  them  a  special  guide 
through  the  building.  As  she  led  them  through  a  long 
corridor,  this  lady  explained  something  of  the  complete  and 
ingenious  system  which  is  in  force  here  to  prevent  fraud  or 
loss  to  the  government.  No  visitor  is  permitted  inside  the 


IN    THE   DRYING-ROOM. 


TAKING    SHEETS    OFF    THE    PRESSES. 

building  without  one  of  the  guides  especially  detailed  for 
this  service,  while  the  work  of  each  of  the  hundreds  of  em- 
ployed is  so  carefully  checked  and  recorded  that  even  the 
most  insignificant  error  is  readily  traceable.  Ink,  paper, 
the  engravers'  dies,  the  printers'  plates,  are  all  given  out 
on  properly  signed  receipts,  and  until  all  are  accounted 
for,  even  to  the  tiniest  scrap  of  paper,  the  employes  who 
have  handled  them  are  not  permitted  to  leave  the  build- 
ing ;  so  that  ouly  by  a  widespread  plot  could  all  these  safe- 
guards be  successfully  eluded. 

The  little  party  was  now  shown  into  a  very  long  room, 
at  one  end  of  which  was  ranged  a  row  of  compartments 
like  sentry-boxes.  In  each  of  these  sat  a  silent  engraver, 
bent  over  the  small  square  of  steel  upon  which  he  was  cut- 
ting some  part  of  the  design  for  paper  money  or  stamps. 
The  plates  from  which  the  stamps  were  formerly  printed 
are  the  property  of  the  government,  so  that  the  old  de- 
signs, with  a  slight  modification,  are  still  in  use.  This 
modification  consists  of  a  trefoil  mark  placed  in  the  upper 
corner  of  the  new  stamps,  which  will  serve 
to  distinguish  them  from  the  old  issues 
printed  by  the  American  Bank-note  Com- 
pany. The  work  of  the  engravers  is  ne- 
cessarily so  painstaking  and  slow  that 
the  original  dies  are  considered  too  ex- 
pensive to  use  in  the  printing-presses. 
Thus,  after  the  engraver  has  completed 
a  die,  it  is  subjected  to  a  hardening  pro- 
cess, and  the  design  multiplied  indefi- 
nitely upon  soft  steel  plates  by  what  is 
known  as  the  transfer-press.  The  chil- 
dren were  shown  a  long  row  of  these 
presses,  as  well  as  the  great  vaults  where 
all  the  designs,  dies,  and  plates  are  lock- 
ed up  after  the  day's  work.  From  the 
silence  of  the  engravers'  department  they 
were  led  into  the  din  and  clatter  of  the 
press-room  below.  Here  they  found  the 
ne\\  ^t<, •mi-presses  as  well  as  old-fashion- 
ed hand-presses  in  operation,  and  were 
able  to  see  every  detail  of  the  actual 
printing  of  stamps. 

The  baud-presses  are  worked  by  a  plate- 
printer  and  one  assistant,  the  printer  first 
inking  and  polishing  the  eugraved  plate 
over  a  series  of  small  gas -jets,  after 


<!04 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


which  if  is  placed  on  tlie 
press.  His  assistant  now 
lays  a  dampened  sheet  of 
paper  upon  the  plate,  the 
printer  gives  the  press  a 
turn,  and  a  sheet  of  bright 
new  stamps  is  drawii  out 
;it  the  other  side.  This 
work  is  done  quickly  and 
accurately,  but  it  is  a  very 
slow  process  compared  A\  ith 
that  of  the  steam-presses, 
which  turn  out  sheets  of 
four  hundred  stamps  each 
at  the  rate  of  one  hundred 
thousand  stamps  an  hour. 
The  steam  -  presses  carry 
four  plates  on  an  endless 
chain  around  the  sides  of  a 
large  square,  in  the  circuit 
of  which  the  plates  are  au- 
tomatically heated  to  the 
proper  temperature,  inked, 
wiped  off,  and  printed.  The 
blank  paper  is  laid  on  the 

plates  by  one  assistant,  while  a  second  helper  takes  out  the 
printed  sheet.  The  printer  in  charge  of  the  press  has  the 
most  difficult  part  of  the  work,  which  consists  in  polishing 
the  plate  with  his  bare  palms  after  it  has  been  mechani- 
cally inked.  This  must  bo  done  so  delicately  as  to  leave 
neither  too  much  nor  too  little  ink  upon  the  plate,  but  only 
just  enough  to  give  a  clean,  fine  impression. 

The  presses  clattered  and  clanked,  and  the  children 
watched  with  breathless  interest  while  a  great  stack  of 
the  dampened  paper  disappeared  rapidly,  sheet  by  sheet, 


MIXING   THE   GLUE. 


THE    ENGRAVING-ROOM. 


through  the  press,  reappearing  again  to  be  stacked  in  a 
second  neat  pile  in  the  form  of  thousands  upon  thousands 
of  new  red  two-cent  stamps. 

Besides  the  ordinary  issues,  the  young  investigators  were 
much  interested  in  seeing  the  printing  of  revenue  stamps, 
of  the  long-strip  stamps  for  cigar-boxes,  and  other  tobacco 
stamps,  and  particularly  the  new  two-cent  stamps  for  play- 
ing-cards. 

Having  watched  to  their  entire  satisfaction  the  various 
movements  of  the  great  presses,  the  children  began  to  feel 
that  the  object  of  their  visit  had  been 
realized,  and  that  there  was  nothing  more 
to  see.  They  were  therefore  somewhat 
surprised  to  learn  that  tike  printing  of  the 
stamps  is  merely  the  beginning  of  the 
work  upon  them,  and  that  a  number  of 
very  important  things  must  happen  to 
these  small  squares  of  red,  blue,  brown, 
and  purple  before  they  are  ready  to  be 
sold  through  the  little  window  in  the 
post-office.  After  they  are  printed  the 
sheets  must  be  dried  and  pressed  out, 
gummed,  dried  and  pressed  again,  the 
sheets  perforated  and  cut  apart,  trimmed, 
and,  in  addition,  carefully  counted  before 
and  after  each  of  these  operations. 

In  the  early  days  of  postage-stamps, 
and  for  several  years  after  they  first  came 
into  use,  two  serious  difficulties  present- 
ed themselves  —  i.e.,  the  gumming  and 
separating  of  the  stamps.  For  a  time  a 
thick  muddy  mucilage  was  used,  which 
curled  up  the  sheets  in  a  very  inconven- 
ient way.  Then,  again,  before  the  ingen- 
ious device  of  perforation  was  hit  upon,  it 
was  necessary  to  cut  the  stamps  apart 
with  a  pair  of  scissors.  Imagine  a  post- 
master in  these  busy  days  supplying  his 
customers  by  the  scissors  method! 

Fortunately  a  clever  Frenchman  con- 
ceived the  plan  of  punching  a  series  of 
small  holes  between  the  stamps,  and  his 
invention  was  promptly  introduced  into 
this  country.  The  children  were  now- 
eager  to  see  the  finishing  processes  of 
stamp-making, and  so  followed  their  guide 
into  a  large  room,  where  they  were  gren  - 
ed  by  a  rush  of  warm  air.  Here  their 
guide  showed  them  the  method  of  gum- 
ming the  stamps  and  the  curious  ap- 
paratus used  for  the  purpose.  Along  the 
entire  length  of  the  room,  with  a  narrow 
passage  between,  are  ranged  a  series  of 


603 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


•wooden  boxes,  quite  sixty  feet  iii  length.  These  are  heated 
by  steam,  and  through  each  box  passes  a  sent  of  double  end 
less  chaiu.  The  sheets  are  fed,  lace  down,  into  this  queer 
machine,  and  passed  under  a  roller,  which  allows  the  escape 
of  just,  enough  gum  to  coat  the  sheet  thinly  and  evenly. 
The  sheet  is  now  caught  on  the  endless  chain  by  two  auto- 
matic; clamps,  and  carried  into  the  long  hot-box.  It  takes 

only  a  lew  m cuts  lor  the  journey  through,  but  the  sheets 

appear  at   the  other  end  perfectly  dried,  and  ready  to  be 
trimmed  and  perforated. 

As  the  method  of  gumming  stamps  used  by  the  various 
bank-note  companies  has  been  a  carefully  guarded  and 
secret  process,  the  Hurcau  of  Engraving  and  Printing  has 
been  forced  to  invent  its  own  machine  for  this  purpose. 
The  sheets  are  gummed  at  the  rate  of  about  eighteen  a 
minute,  which  is  certainly  a  vast  improvement  over  the  old 
method  of  putting  on  the  gum  by  hand  with  a  brush. 

When  the  children  were  weary  of  watching  the  funny 
little  brass  fingers  move  along  and  hurry  the  sheets  off 
into  the  hot-box,  they  turned  to  a  corner  where  a  workman 
was  busy  over  a  series  of  vats  and  buckets  mixing  the 
gum,  which  looked  very  clean  and  nice,  and  is  made  of 
dextrine,  a  vegetable  product.  The  guide  now  showed 
them  how  the  gummed  sheets  are  pressed  smooth  for  per- 
foration, and  then  led  them  into  a  room  where  a  score  or 
mole  of  odd  little  machines  were  in  swift  operation.  Each 
machine  is  tended  by  two  workwomen,  most  of  whom  wear 
fantastic  caps  of  paper  to  shade  their  eyes,  as  the  sheets 
must  be  fed  into  the  machines  with  absolute  accuracy  in 
order  that  the  perforations  shall  come  in  the  right  place. 
Each  sheet  has  register  lines  printed  in  the  margin,  which 
must  be  adjusted  exactly  under  a  black  thread  fastened 
across  the  feeding-table.  A  quick  whir  of  the  wheels  puts 
a  neat  line  of  pin-holes  lengthwise  between  the  stamps, 
cutting  the  sheet  in  half  at  the  same  time.  The  next  ma- 
chine perforates  the  sheet  crosswise,  and  again  cuts  it  in 
two,  so  that  lhi>  sheets  are  now  divided  np  into  the  regula- 
tion size  of  one  hundred  stamps  each. 

The  children  thought  the  minute  disks  of  paper  punched 
out  by  the  perforators  too  insignificant  to  be  considered, 
and  were  accordingly  much  surprised  to  learn  that  the 
sheets  again  have  to  be  smoothed  out,  under  great  press- 
ure, to  reduce  their  bulk  and  remove  the  "burr"  caused 
by  the  perforation. 

After  inspecting  the  final  process  of  making  np  the 
stamps  into  packages,  to  be  mailed  to  the  postmasters  all 
o\er  the  country,  the.  children  were  taken  by  their  father 
to  the  office  of  the  chief  of  the  bureau.  Here  they  re- 
ceived a  cordial  welcome,  and  learned  many  interesting  and 
curious  details  about  stamps  and  stamp-making.  About 
3,000.(UJ(i.l HNI  stamps  are  annually  furnished  the  Post-office 
Department  by  the  Bureau  of  Engraving  and  Printing,  at 
the  rate  of  five  cents  a  thousand.  Ninety  per  cent,  of 
tin  -e  are  the  two-cent  stamps,  and  according  to  the  last 
Post-office  report  the  revenue  from  the  sale  of  stamps  is  a 
little  over  stJ.000,000  a  month. 

"  By-the-way,''  observed  the  chief,  "you  young  people 
should  be  very  much  interested  in  the  Report  of  the  Third 
Assistant  Postmaster-General  for  1893,  which  contains  a 
carefully  prepared  and  elaborately  descriptive  list  of  every 
stamp  and  postal  card  issued  by  the  United  States  govern- 
ment. ]|  must  seem  hard  to  yon  stamp  collectors  that  the 
most  beautiful  stamps  issued — the  newspaper  and  periodi- 
cal stamps  —  are  not  permitted  to  be  sold  to  the  public. 
One  of  the  chief  reasons  for  this  is  that  the  values  of  these 
.small  squares  of  paper  run  up  to  such  high  figures,  viz., 
"-.'I.  s36,  §48,  and  $60,  that  they  would  offer  a  great  field 
to  counterfeiters  if  generally  circulated.  There  are  some 
queer  denominations  among  these  stamps,  notably  the  $1  92 
stamp,  which  is  about  to  be  discontinued,  and  some  very 
pretty  colors.  That  reminds  me — did  they  show  you  our 
ink-mills  in  your  tour  of  inspection?" 

Mr.  I'opeland  explained  that  they  had  not  seen  the  mills, 
so  the  children  had  the  pleasure  of  being  escorted  by  the 
chief  himself  into  the  grimy  region  which  is  seldom  pene- 
trated l.v  the  public.  Here  they  saw  the  colors  ground 
and  mixed  in  .small  mills,  from  which  the  workmen — smear- 
•ed  from  top  to  toe  in  a  rainbow  of  colors — gathered  the 


thick  greasy  ink  by  the  bucketful.  About  one  hundred 
thousand  pounds  of  dry  color  is  used  annually  for  the  two- 
cent  stamps  alone,  the  color  being  mixed  with  an  equal 
quantity  of  burnt  linseed  oil,  making  two  hundred  thou- 
sand pounds  of  ink.  Of  course  a  large  percentage  of  this 
color  is  lost  in  inking  and  polishing  the  plate. 

The  tour  was  now  ended,  and  leaving  the  oily  little 
wheels  to  their  ceaseless  grinding,  the  children,  with  a 
grateful  good-by  to  their  new  friend,  went  home  with  their 
young  heads  full  of  the  interesting  things  they  had  seen 
in  I'ncle  Sam's  stamp  factory. 


THE 
UDDING 
STICK 


Thia  Department  is  conduced  in  the  interest  of  Girls  and  Youne  Women,  and  the  Editor  will 
be  pleased  to  answer  any  queati  m  on  the  subject  so  far  as  possible.  Correspondents  should 
adilress  Editor. 

GIRLS  who  are  terrified  by  thunder  and  lightning  lose 
a  great  deal  of  enjoyment  during  the  summer,  when 
we  have  storms  as  well  as  sunshine.  It  may  not  be  quite 
possible  for  every  one  to  help  being  afraid  when  the  sky  is 
black  with  clouds  and  the  lightning's  flash,  but  it  is  within 
the  power  of  most  people  to  control  the  expression  of  fright. 
Once  or  twice  having  resolutely  refrained  from  showing 
your  terror,  you  will  be  surprised  and  pleased  to  find  the 
terror  itself  lessening. 

I  know  persons  who  go  through  life  in  a  sort  of  bondage 
to  fear  of  various  kinds.  They  tremble  and  turn  pale,  or 
grow  hysterical  and  cry,  when  the  dark  clouds  gather  and 
the  thunders  roll.  There  is  a  pretty  German  hyum  which 
begins, 

"It  thunders,  but  I  tremble  not, 

My  trust  is  firm  in  God, 
His  arm  of  strength  I've  ever  sought 
Through  all  the  way  I've  trod." 

I  ADVISE  ALL  OF  YOU  who  need  the  advice  to  remember  that 
God  rules  in  the  heavens,  and  His  hand  sends  the  storms. 
Trust  in  God  when  you  are  afraid  —  really  trust,  and  you 
will  grow  calm  and  be  happy.  Another  grain  of  comfort 
may  be  found  in  the  fact  that  when  you  see  the  bright  zig- 
zagging flash  and  hear  the  rumbling  thunder,  the  danger 
for  you  is  over.  You  will  never  see  or  hear  the  electric 
current  which  hurts  or  kills.  It  is  far  too  swift  to  wait  and 
warn  you  in  that  way. 


NY  OF  us  have  some  pet  aversion,  which  goes  far  to 
make  us  cowards  in  one  direction,  even  if  in  other  condi- 
tions and  situations  we  are  brave.  I  have  seen  women  al- 
most faint  at  the  sight  of  a  poor  little  scurrying  mouse,  and 
have  heard  others  scream  at  a  bat  or  a  beetle.  I  confess 
to  a  very  great  dislike  OH  my  own  part  to  things  with  wings 
and  with  stings,  especially  those  which  fly  in  at  the  window 
when  the  lamp  is  lighted,  and  buzz  and  fizz  and  snap  and 
pounce  and  bounce.  But  I  would  be  ashamed  of  myself  if 
I  could  not  keep  from  shrieking  in  the  presence  of  these 
innocent  little  marauders.  Depend  upon  it,  girls,  we  can 
display  a  cool  front  and  wear  a  brave  face  if  we  choose  to 
do  so,  let  what  happen.  It  is  all  a  question  of  will. 

NUMBERS  OF  TRAVELLERS  never  get  the  full  meed  of  plea- 
sure when  on  a  journey  because  they  carry  too  great  a  load 
of  care.  They  fancy  that  this  or  that  will  happen.  They  are 
distressed  because  of  accidents  which  may  possibly  occur. 
They  make  the  friends  with  them  uncomfortable  because 
they  suggest  dreadfully  unpleasant  catastrophes  as  just 
around  the  corner.  When  you  think  of  it,  this  behavior  is 
both  stupid  and  silly.  Trains  and  boats  are  in  the  hands, 
as  a  rule,  of  competent  and  responsible  persons,  who  wish 
to  take  their  passengers  and  freight  safe  to  the  journey's 
end.  You,  being  neither  captain,  nor  engineer.  nor  conduc- 
tor, are  called  upon  to  feel  no  concern  in  the  matter. 


COG 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


I  WISH  I  COULD  I.MPUESS  on  every  young  girl  the  beauty 
and  dignity  of  simple,  quiet  courage.  Not  recklessness, 
nor  indifference  to  danger,  but  a  geutle  acceptance  of  every 
situation,  and  a  rising  above  fear.  Fear  is  the  feeling  of  a 
slave.  It  fetters  one's  mind,  and  makes  one's  body  clumsy 
and  awkward.  The  Bible  says,  "  Fear  hath  torment.''  It 
is  usually  ignoble,  not  the  appropriate  sentiment  for  bright, 
capable,  kind-hearted,  and  winning  gii-ls  like  you.  Resolve 
to  put  fear  under  your  feet,  and  walk  through  the  world 
with  hearts  superior  to  it  iu  its  every  form  and  phase. 


* 


collectors  should  trim  the  edges  of  any  stamps  they  may 
have.  Next  week  we  will  illustrate  the  scale  of  regular 
perforations. 

THE  SO-CALLED  ernir  of  the  5c.  red-brown  V.  S.  1890  issue 
in  the  color  of  the  4c.  dark  brown  has  been  demonstrated 
to  be  a  chungeling,  by  a  very  simple  chemical  test.  The 
dealer  who  ottered  these  stamps  for  sale  at  $30  each  lias 
notified  the  thirty-seven,  people  who  bought  copies  at  that 
price  that  their  money  will  be  returned  on  demand. 

I  would  advise  all  collectors  to  keep  all  the  different 
shades  of  the  U.  S.  stamps  which  they  get  at  little  or  no 
expense,  but  to  avoid  paying  any  extra  for  shades  of  cur- 
rent or  late  stamps. 

A  PKNKOSK  SCUT.T..—  The  common  stamps  of  the  U.  S.  are  worth  about 
$50  to  $100  per  million  it  in  good  condition.  The  lOc.  blown  is  quoted 
at  lOc. 

BIM:KPKIN — This  is  not  the  place  to  quote  arguments  in  favor  of  stnmp- 
collcctinj:.  Most  boys,  and  many  men,  find  great  pleasure  in  this  pursuit. 
Ask  one  of  them  to  tell  you  of  its  pleasures. 

H.  W.—  There  are  two  varieties  of  Baltimore  and  Ohio  Telegraph 
stamps.  One  is  worth  $2  each,  the  regular  perforated  are  worth  65c  per 
set. 

AiiTiirn  L.  EVANS  —The  lOc.  green  is  worth  6r.  The  6c.  and  8c.  Co- 
lumbians can  still  be  bought  at  face  in  many  post-office's. 

PHILATUS. 


This  Department  is  conducted  in  the  interest  of  Stamp  anil  Coin  Collectors,  and  the  Editor 
will  be  pleased  to  answer  any  question  on  these  sut'jeclfi  so  far  as  possible.  Correspondents 
should  address  Editor  Stamp  Department. 

uuuuuuuuuuuuu        Regular  perforations:  holes  punched  out. 


Rouletted :  lines  cut  in. 


Pin  perforated:  pinholes. 


/YVYVYVYYYYVYYYW       Rouletted  en  arc  :  curved  lines  cut  in. 
/vwi/vvvwvwi/vv\       Rouletted  CH  sc<<>  :  saw-tooth  lines  cut  in. 


yj 


Rouletted  en 


-  :  funcy  lines  cut  in. 


Rouletted  en  points  :  diagonal  lines  cut  in. 
V  v  \/  s/  v  v      Rouletted  en  lomngf  :  diagonal  cuts  not  joiued. 


Rouletted  in  naif  squares  :  lines  cut  in. 


ONE  OF  THE  FliiST  REQUISITES  of  any  science  is  to  know 
its  terms.     Stamp-collecting  is  now  not  only  a  hobby, 
but  an  exact  science  as  well. 

Former!}'  little  uote  was  taken  of  the  condition  of  stamps, 
but  to-day  the  smallest  details  are  important.  Yon  have 
doubtless  noticed  that  almost  all  stamps  issued  during  the 
past  thirty  years  have  "scalloped"  edges.  These  are 
perforatious  made  to  enable  persons  using  stamps  to  de- 
tach one  or  more  without  using  scissors.  Previous  to 
1856  all  stamps  were  printed  on  sheets  of  paper,  and  had 
to  be  cut  off  one  by  one  with  a  knife  or  scissors.  These 
are  known  as  "uuperforated."  Many  experiments  were 
made  to  do  away  with  the  necessity  of  using  scissors,  and 
we  illustrate  the  different  methods  used.  Gradually  all 
nations  have  adopted  the  '•  regular  "  perforations,  which 
consist  of  a  series  of  holes  punched  out  along  all  four 
edges  of  each  stamp.  Now  this  difference  between  per- 
forated and  nnperforated  stamps  makes  licit  a  little  differ- 
ence in  the  prices  asked.  For  instance,  the  24c.  U.S.  of 
1851  uuperforated  would  be  cheap  at  $100,  whereas  the 
same  stamp  perforated  is  worth  $2  50  only.  The  Victoria, 
twopenny  of  1807  is  worth  SI  50  perforated,  while  $25  is 
asked  for  the  unperforated.  So  none  of  the  I!ot:xi>  TAIJI.E 


SCHOOL-BOY'S  SONG  OE  THE   SCHOOL 
WEEK. 

ON  Monday  black,  at  four  o'clock, 
The  key  is  turned  iu  the  school-room  lock, 
And  I've  given  old  Time  a  terrible  knock, 

For  the  head  of  the  Week  is  broken. 

At  four  of  a  Tuesday  afternoon, 
The  hour  that  cometh  none  too  soon, 
I  strap  my  books  to  a  merry  tune. 

For  the  neck  of  the  Week  is  broken. 

As  the  four  glad  strokes  on  Wednesday  ring, 
My  cap  in  the  air  I  gayly  fling. 
And  homeward  run  as  I  loudly  sing. 

"The  grip  of  the  Week  is  broken." 

Ah,  welcome  the  sound  of  the  Thursday's  four, 
And  tin-  joyous  thought  of  "  but  one  day  more 
That  opens  and  shuts  the  school-room  door," 

For  the  back  of  the  WTeek  is  broken. 

But  sweeter  than  story  iu   prose  or  rhyme 

The  musical  notes  of  the  Friday  chime, 

For  the  Week  lies  dead  in  the  arms  of  Time. 

And  the  school-boy's  chains  are   broken. 
L.  H.  BurCE. 

KING  ARTHUR   AND    HIS   KNIGHTS. 

II. — THE   SWORD. 

"OW  while  the  lords  and  their  followers  were  gath- 
ered iu  the  great  church,"  the  Story-teller  said.  as. 
Jack  and  Mollie  begau  to  show  some  curiosity  as  to  what 
this  miracle  for  which  Merlin  hoped  might  be,  "there  \\as 
discovered  iu  the  church-yard  near  the  altar  a  great  black 
stone,  about  four  feet  square,  on  the  middle  of  which  stood 
a  steel  auvil  a  foot  iu  height.  Thrust  iuto  this,  with  its 
shining  point  visible,  was  a  beautiful  sword,  and  about,  it, 
written  in  letters  of  gold,  were  these  words : 

"'WHOSO    PULLETH    OUT    THIS    SWORD    OF    THIS    STONE    AND 
ANVIL    IS    RIGHTWISE    KING     BORN    OF    ENGLAND.1  " 

"Who  put  it  there  ?"  asked  Jack. 

"I  dou't  kuow,"  said  the  Story-teller.  "It  was  there, 
and  that  is  all  I  kuow  about  it,  and  the  people  when  they 
saw  it  were  full  of  wonder,  and  marvelled  greatly  to  read 
the  words  written  about  it.  I  imagine, however,  that  Mer- 
lin and  the  Archbishop  had  something  to  do  with  it,  for 
when  the  people  went  into  the  church,  and  told  the  Arch- 
bishop what  they  had  seen,  he  did  not  appear  to  be  at  all 


GOT 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


THE    K1GI1TFI  L    KING    OF    ENGLAND. 


sin-prised,  but  cuinmaiuled  all  to  remain  within  the  church 
anil  not  to  touch  the  a  word  until  the  service  was  over. 
The  people  and  the  gathered  knights  and  all  their  follow- 
ers obe\  ed  the  Archbishop's  command,  for  they  did  not  dare 
tlo  otherwise:  lint  when  the  service  was  over,  they  all 
rushed  out  into  the  church-yard  to  see  the  stone  and  the 

anvil,  with  the  w lerful  sword  stuck  into  it.      And  then, 

when  the  lords  hail  read  the  Bidden  inscription  upon  the 
.stone,  each  made  an  cll'orl  to  pull  the  sword  out  of  its  an- 
vil-sheath, 'nil  not  inie  ol'them  could  do  it.  They  pulled 
and  tilled  and  pulled  and  tugged,  hut  it  was  all  in  vain. 
They  neither  broke  nor  budded  it,  and  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury  said  it  was  evident  that  mine  of  those  present 
eould  elaim  to  lie  the.  rightful  King.  He  added  that  he 
believed  that  the  right  one  would  yet  be  discovered,  and 
.suggested  that  ti'n  of  the  best  knights  of  the  land  should 
be  made  a  guard  of  honor  to  wateh  over  tlie  sword  until 
New-Year's  day.  w  hen  any  one  who  wished  might  come  and 
in  the  presence  nf  all  make  the  eft'ort  to  pull  it  from  the 
anvil.  This  was  agreed  to.  anil  it  was  decided  to  have  a 
great  tournament  upon  I  lie1  coming  New-Year's  day,  after 
which  the  trial  should  be  made.  This  kept  the  knights 
.and  their  followers  in  London,  for  it  was  important  that 
all  should  be  present  at  the  trial,  success  ra  which  meant 
.so  much,  mil  onl\  to  the  siieee.ssful  man,  but  to  the  whole 
kingdom  as  well." 

••  Didn't  Merlin  try  to  pull  it  out?"  asked  Mollie.  "If he 
put  it  in,  1  should  think  he  could  have  pulled  it  out,  and 
.then  he  could  have  been  King  himself." 


"Possibly;  but  I  imagine  he  didn't 
want  to  be  King,  for  one  thing,  and,  for  an- 
other, he  hail  been  too  good  a  friend  to 
Arthur,  and  to  Uther.  his  father,  to  wish  to 
betray  them.  The  Chronicles  do  not  say 
whether  he  tried  it  or  not,  but  if  he  did,  he 
failed;  and  so  the  week  between  Christ- 
mas and  New-Year's  went  by  without  any 
oue's  having  moved  the  sword  ;  and  the 
lords  made  their  preparations  for  the  tour- 
nament, and  many  of  them,  I  have  uo 
doubt,  spent  a  great  deal  of  their  time  get- 
ting their  muscle  up  in  the  hope  of  win- 
ning the  crown. 

"On  the  New-Year's  day  all  again  as- 
sembled in  the  church,  and,  after  the  ser- 
vice, proceeded  to  the  field  where  the  tour- 
nament was  to  take  place.  Sir  Ector,  fol- 
lowed by  his  son, Sir  Kaye,  who  had  him- 
self been  made  a  knight,  and  Arthur,  rode 
with  them,  when  it  was  discovered  that 
Sir  Kaye  had  left  his  sword  behind  him  at 
bis  father's  lodging.  Summoning  Arthur, 
he  requested  him  to  return  to  the  house 
and  get  it  for  him.  This  Arthur  readily 
consented  to  do,  for  he  was  fond  of  Kaye, 
whom,  as  we  have  already  seen,  he  sup- 
posed to  be  his  own  brother.  Turning 
his  horse  about,  he  rode  full  speed  back 
to  the  lodgings ;  but  when  he  arrived 
there  he  found  everyone  had  gone  to  the 
tournament,  and  he  could  not  find  his 
foster-brother's  sword.  For  a  moment  he 
was  perplexed.  He  knew  it  would  never 
do  for  Sir  Kaye  to  be  found  at  a  tour- 
nament without  his  sword,  for  the  sword 
was  the  sign  of  his  knighthood,  and  a 
knight  who  had  lost  it  would  have  been 
considered  unworthy  of  the  honor  which 
had  been  bestowed  upon  him.  Suddenly 
Arthur  bethought  him  of  the  sword  in 
the  anvil,  and  without  much  hope  that 
he  should  succeed  where  so  many  others 
had  failed,  he  resolved  to  make  the  effort 
to  loosen  it  anyhow,  and  in  case  of  suc- 
cess to  carry  it  to  Sir  Kaye. 

"So  he  rode  to  the  church-yard,  and 
found  it  as  deserted  as  Sir  Ector's  lodg- 
ings had  been.  The  ten  knights  who 
had  been  left  to  guard  the  sword,  like  every  one  else  in 
London,  had  gone  to  the  tournament.  Dismounting  from 
his  horse,  Arthur  strode  into  the  yard,  and  grasping  the 
handle  of  the  sword  as  firmly  as  he  conld,  pulled  at  it 
fiercely,  when,  to  his  surprise  and  delight,  it  came  out  of 
the  anvil.  Without  stopping  to  think  of  all  that  this 
meant  for  him,  he  remounted  his  steed,  and  rode  hastily 
back  to  Sir  Kaye,  to  whom  he  handed  the  weapon. 

"  The  instant  Sir  Kaye  looked  at  it  he  knew  it  to  be  the 
sword  of  the  stone,  and  putting  his  spurs  to  his  horse,  he 
dashed  to  where  his  father  stood,  and,  showing  him  the 
glittering  blade,  told  him  that  it  was  the  sword  of  the 
stone,  and  said, 

"  '  1  must  be  King  of  this  land!' 

"lint  Sir  Ector  was  cautions,  so  he  questioned  Kaye 
closely  as  to  how  he  had  come  by  the  weapon,  and  he  made 
him  go  with  him  and  Arthur  back  to  the  church  and  swear 
to  what  he  said ;  and  Sir  Kaye  told  him  the  whole  story — 
how  he  had  left  his  own  sword  at  home  and  had  scut  Ar- 
thur back  for  it;  how  Arthur  had  gone  there,  and  not  find- 
ing any  one,  had  bethought  him  of  the  sword  in  the  anvil, 
and  had  taken  it.  though  no  one  had  witnessed  the  act. 

"  Whereupon  Sir  Ector  made  Arthur  return  the  sword  to 
the  anvil, and  himself  tried  to  pull  it  out,  but  it  would  not 
come;  and  then  he  made  Sir  Kaye  try  it,  and  still  it  would 
not  come;  and  then  bidding  Arthur  make  an  effort,  the  boy 
did  so.  and  it  came  out  easily,  at  which  both  Sir  Kaye  and 
his  father  knelt  before  Arthur,  and  hailed  him  as  the  mail 
who  should  be  rightful  King  of  England." 


608 


INTERSCHOIIASTIC 


l*J"ITH  THE  NEW  ENGLAND  INTERSCHOLASTIC  games  next 
VV  Saturday  the  seasou  of  track  and  field  athletics — as 
far  as  school  leagues  are  concerned — will  practically  come 
to  a  close.  The  season  has  been  a  most  successful  one. 
Records  have  been  broken  on  every  hand,  eveu  iii  events 
where  it  was  supposed  that  many  a  year  must  go  by  before 
that  performance  could  be  bettered.  This  excellent  show- 
ing is  the  natural  result  of  the  hard  training  and  constant 
energy  'of  the  hundreds  of  runners  and  jumpers  in  the 
schools;  aud  the  ever-increasing  number  of  contestants  all 
over  the  country  proves  that  track  and  field  sports  have 
secured  a  firm  foothold,  and  now  deserve  to  be  recognized 
as  equal  in  importance  to  both  football  and  baseball.  In 
the  vicinity  of  New  York,  at  least,  there  are  fully  twice  as 
many  who  indulge  in  track  athletics  as  there  are  baseball 
and  football  players.  In  other  regions  I  think  the  pro- 
portions are  more  nearly  equal.  The  growth  of  these 
sports  has  been  very  rapid.  In  almost  every  centre  there 
is  an  Interscholastic  Association  or  League,  aud  the  daily 
newspapers,  not  only  of  the  East  but  of  the  West,  have 
been  printing  reports  of  scholastic  meets  for  the  past  two 
mouths.  The  work  of  the  school  athletes  has  decidedly 
become  a  factor  in  amateur  sport.  In  some  of  the  school 
leagues  there  are  better  men  than  the  colleges  can  boast  of. 

THE  ANNUAL  MEETING  of  the  Inter-collegiate  Athletic 
Association  at  the  Berkeley  Oval,  usually  characterized  as 
the  "  Mott  Haven  games,"  because  they  were  first  held  at 
Mott  Haven,  brings  together  the  best  college  athletic  talent 
from  all  parts  of  this  broad  country.  This  year  a  team  from 
the  University  of  California  travelled  three  thousand  miles 
overland  to  contest  for  the  championship  on  that  day. 
Besides  them,  an  unknown  runner  with  a  rapid  gait  and  a 
queer  cap  came  out  of  the  West,  and  left  the  crack  sprint- 
ers of  the  East  straining  and  striving  behind  him,  while  he, 
with  a  broad  smile,  pocketed  two  gold  medals,  and  carried 
them  back  to  Iowa.  I  don't  believe  there  was  ever  any 
better  sport  at  Olympia,  and  if  the  colleges  can  be  so  suc- 
cessful in  these  things,  aud  can  draw  men  to  compete  at 
these  games  from  every  point  of  the  compass,  why  should 
not  the  schools  follow  their  example,  and  form  one  great 
Interscholastic  Association,  and  have  a  big  meeting  once  a 
year?  There  is  no  reason  why  they  should  not.  1  can 
think  of  hardly  a  single  obstacle  in  the  way  of  the  forma- 
tion of  such  a  league.  All  that  is  needed  is  that  some  en- 
ergetic individual  or  individuals,  or  some  enthusiastic  and 
sporting  spirited  Athletic  Association  take  the  matter  in 
baud  and  put  it  through.  Once  started,  the  routine  of  or- 
ganization would  roll  along  as  if  on  wheels. 

IT  is  NOT  NECESSARY  that  every  school  in  the  country 
should  be  asked  to  join  at  the  outset.  On  the  contrary,  I 
would  suggest  that  the  greater  Association  under  discus- 
sion be  made  up  of  the  various  I.S.A.A.'s  now  existing,  and 
that  the  big  aunual  games  be  a  contest  among  the  winners 
of  the  annual  games  of  the  individual  associations.  This 
scheme  commends  itself,  because  only  the  best  men  from 
every  locality  could  compete  at  the  meeting,  and  the  num- 
ber of  entries  could  in  that  manner  be  limited.  We  have 
all  had  experience  with  a  superfluity  of  contestants,  and 
we  know  what  interminable  trial  heats  mean.  If  the  move- 
ment to  form  a  general  luterscbolastic  Association  should 
be  started  in  New  York,  there  would  be  no  lack  of  leagues 
already  in  good  standing  to  call  upon  for  membership. 
There  are  the  New  York  and  the  Long  Island  I.S.A.A.'s 
right  here.  Near  by  we  have  the  New  England  I.S.A.A., 
the  Western  Massachusetts  I.S.A. A.,  the  Maine  I.S.A.A.,  the 
Connecticut  I.S.A.A.,  the  Pennsylvania  Inter-academic  A.A., 
the  Dartmouth  I.S.A.A.,  and  the  New  York  State  I.S.A.A. 


of  Syracuse.  In  addition  to  these  there  are  many  others 
that  I  need  not  mention  here.  A  large  and  influential 
league  in  the  West  is  the  Academic  Athletic  League  of  the 
Pacific  Coast,  of  whose  prowess  on  track  and  field  I  have 
had  occasion  to  speak  of  many  times  in  this  Department. 

OF  COURSE,  ONE  OF  THE  FIRST  QUESTIONS  that  would 
arise  upon  the  organization  of  such  an  Intel-scholastic  As- 
sociation would  be,  Where  shall  the  annual  meeting  be 
held?  The  answer  to  that  is  simply,  Hold  it  where  it  will 
be  most  convenient  for  the  greatest  number  of  schools  in- 
terested. It  would  not  be  advisable  to  hold  the  meeting 
in  a  different  city  each  year,  for  the  Portland  aud  Baugor 
athletes  would  not  care  to  journey  to  Philadelphia,  neither 
would  the  Pennsylvanians  care  to  travel  up  into  Maine. 
New  York  is  a  central  location,  but  in  many  respects  it 
would  be  a  poor  place  for  a  meeting  of  the  kind  under  con- 
sideration. The  ideal  spot,  to  my  mind,  would  be  New 
Haven.  This  for  two  reasons  principally.  It  is  half-way 
between  Boston  and  Philadelphia,  which  are  the  centres  of 
the  New  England  and  Pennsylvania  districts;  and  it  is 
also  about  equally  distant  from  New  York  and  Hartford, 
which  are  the  homes  of  the  N.Y.  &  L.I.I.S.A.A's.,  and  the 
Connecticut  I.S.A.A.  The  second  good  reason  is  that  Yale 
University  is  situated  at  New  Haven,  and  I  have  no  doubt 
that  the  authorities  of  college  athletics  there  would  only 
be  too  happy  to  oifer  the  use  of  the  Yale  field,  and  to  do 
considerable  work  toward  the  management  of  the  games. 

EVEN  IF  THE  COLLEGE  MEN  felt  that  they  could  not  de- 
vote their  time  to  the  management  of  an  luterscholastie 
meeting — which  I  greatly  doubt,  for  it  would  be  to  their 
interest  to  do  so  —  there  are  three  large  schools  in  New 
Haven,  members  of  the  Connecticut  I.S.A.A.,  which  would 
certainly  see  that  business  committees  were  appointed,  aud 
competent  men  set  to  work  for  the  successful  carrying  out 
of  the  enterprise.  But  I  believe  the  athletic  authorities  of 
Y'ale  would  be  so  glad  of  the  opportunity  to  help  and  assist 
the  school  athletes  that  they  would  even  go  so  far  as  to 
offer  a  cup  to  be  contested  for. 

BUT  I  HAVE  RUN  a  little  ahead  of  my  subject.  What  we 
are  all  most  interested  in  now  is  the  first  step;  the  rest  can 
easily  be  arranged  afterward.  It  is  too  late  to  think  of 


F.  Mnnson.     Albert  Monler.  S.  E.  Gunnia< 
E.  II.  Jewell.  H.  Ron. 


.     H.  Simpson.          J.  Beasley. 
r  (Capt.).  M.  Forney. 


ej.  A.  Opp.  A.  Topping. 

ADELPHI    ACADEMY    TRACK-ATHLETIC    TEAM. 
Champions  of  the  L.I.I.S.A.A.,  1895. 


609 


HAKPEK'S   BOUND   TABLE 

PENNSYLVANIA    I.A.L.    GAMES,    FRANKLIN   FIELD,  PHILADELPHIA,   JUNE   1,  1S95. 


Event. 

\VllLl    .    1   - 

Perf,»n»Dce. 

2J—  3  points. 

3d—]  [".int. 

\l  ,,!,<- 

.1  -.  f'.c.1. 
Branson,  P.O. 

(illL'e.  II. 

Whetstone,  De  L. 
Jones,  P.C. 

I!|  :III-MII,  P.r. 
,1  H,  P.C 

1C  4-5  sec. 
183-5    " 
2m.  17  1-2    " 
3  "      7 
582-5    " 
294-5    " 
24  3-5    " 
5  "    23          " 
4  "      5          " 
5  ft.     2  1-2   in. 
19  "      7 
33  "      4  1-2   " 
-9  "      7          " 

9  "      2  1-2   " 

Hnnsberger,  P.C. 
C'oit,  C. 
Thackara,  G. 
.  De  L. 
Lambertsou,  C. 
Borer,  P.C. 
HnnstnTL'cr.  I1.*'. 
Guernsey,  P.C. 
Shearer,  P.C. 
Newhold,  De  I,. 
Eorer,  P.C. 
Farr,  De  L. 
Branson,  P.C. 
Borer,  P.C. 

Bailey,  P.C. 
Remington,  De  L. 
Fan-,  De  L. 
Beverlin,  De  L. 
McCarty,  G. 
Coit,  G. 
•Beasluy,  G. 
Gage,  H. 
Sutton,  H. 
Remington,  De  L. 
Johnson,  G. 
Sayen,  H. 
Rorer,  P.C. 
(          Flavell,  G.  . 
'(      Branson,  P.C. 

Penn  Charter    r,7  '•  • 
De  Lancey    .     23  " 
i  ie!  niantow  n     17^ 
Chfltcnlian   .       s 
llavi-rtord.    .     in 
Adelphi  ....       0 
Episcopal  .   .      o 
Total  126 

\ 

•^ii-vanl  ihisli  ... 

Tharka    i.  i. 
Lippincott.  De  L. 

KM     ,.    ]'  C. 

T.ransoii,  P.C. 
Wai'-     - 
Flavell,  G. 

Hanson,  P.C. 

Running  broad  jump  

Standing  broad  jump  

NOTE.— P.C. ,  Penn  Charter  School;  G. ,  Germantown  Academy;  De  L.,  De  Lancey  School;  C.,  Cheltenham  Military  Academy; 
II.,  Haverford  Grammar  School;  E.,  Episcopal  Academy. 


holding  a  general  Interscholastic  meeting  this  spring,  but 
it  is  none  too  early  to  begin  to  think  of  holding  om-  next 
year.  Preparations  for  such  an  important  event  require 
much  time.  If  there  is  anything  that  HAI:I'KI:'S  HOUND 
TABLE  cau  do  to  further  the  success  of  the  plan,  or  if  there 
is  any  work  that  I  cau  perform  in  my  small  way  toward 
the  carrying  out  of  any  idea  that  may  lie  formulated,  it 
shall  be  iloue.  I  hope  these  few  words  on  the  subject  will 
appeal  to  the  athletes  of  the  schools,  and  I  shall  be  ouly 
too  glad  to  hear  from  them,  and,  if  possible,  to  give  space  to 
their  suggestions. 

THE  UNUSUAL  HEAT  of  ten  days  ago  interfered  mightily 
with  the  success  of  the  Pennsylvania  schools'  field-day  on 
Franklin  Field  a  week  ago  Saturday.  With  the  thermom- 
eter at  H.">",  and  the  officials  so  overcome  with  heat  that 
half  of  them  did  not  turn  up,  it  is  uot  to  be  wondered  at 
that  but  two  records  were  broken.  The  only  men  who 
seem  to  have  remained  unaffected  by  the  temperature  were 
Jones"  and  Branson  of  the  Penu  Charter  School,  the  former 
taking  first  in  the  100,  220,  and  440,  and  the  latter  winning 
three  firsts,  one  second,  and  two  thirds — a  total  of  twenty 
points.  Rorer,  also  of  Peuu  Charter,  came  pretty  close  to 
his  schoolmates  by  taking  one  first,  three  seconds,  and  one 
third.  All  three  leave  school  this  year.  The  meeting  was, 
therefore,  a  perfect  walk-over  for  P.  C.,  as  the  score  by 
points  clearly  shows,  and  at  no  time  of  the  afternoon  was 
there  much  enthusiasm  displayed.  It  began  to  rain  just 
before  the  field  events  were  contested,  and  when  the  heavy 
shower  ceased  the  field  was  in  no  condition  for  jumping  or 
pole-vaulting.  This  accounts  for  the  poor  performances 
in  those  rvcnls. 

JUNKS  RAN  THE  FINAL  HEAT  of  the  100  in  10*  sec.,  winning 
easily,  and  came  home  twenty  yards  ahead  of  his  second 
man  in  the  quarter.  He  was  not  pressed  in  the  220  either, 
and  made  the  poor  time  of  242  sec.  The  half-mile  was  one 
of  the  most  interesting  races  of  the  day.  The  tirst  three 
men  kept  well  hunched  all  the  way  around,  and  Gage  made 
a  good  spurt  at  the  finish.  Branson  won  both  the  high 
hurdles  and  the  low  hurdles  with  comparative  ease, most 
of  his  opponents  appearing  fagged  out.  In  the  bicycle  race, 
which  occurred  after  the  sh,,\\er,  a  bad  collision,  in  which 
one  man  was  seriously  hurt,  knocked  out  three  contestants 
and  spoiled  the  event.  In  the  mile,  Guernsey,  P.O.,  started 
a  spurt  within  -J-Jn  yards  of  the  tape,  and  earned  a  lead  of 
thirty  yards,  but  Thackara  of  Germautowu  showed  better 
judgment  by  waiting  until  he  reached  the  100-yard  mark, 
when  lie  forged  ahead  and  won.  The  half-mile  walk  was 
very  close,  the  jud-es  being  unable  to  decide  the  first  three 
]||  ires  t,,r  some  time.  They  finally  made  the  award  in  the 
order  given  in  the  table.  The  records  hrokeii  were  in  the 
shot  evenl  l,\  Watts.  \\  ho  put  the  ball  :5V  inclies  beyond 
the  I.A.L.  record  of:1,:;  It.  1  in.,  and  in  the  pole-vault.  '  The 
laiter  was  broken  by  four  men.  Hanson  and  Rorer  tied 
for  liist.aud  as  neither  could  better  his  jump,  they  tossed 
ith  the  hick  in  favor  of  Hanson.  Brans, ,n, 
P.O.,  got  third  place. 

IN  STRONG  CONTR  xsT  to  the  ease  of  Peun  Charter's  vic- 
tory on  Franklin  Field  was  the  sharp  and  exciting  contest 


between  the  Bangor  and  Portland  High  -  Schools  at  the 
Maine  I.S.A.A.  meeting  in  Jlaplewood  Park,  Bangor,  the 
same  afternoon.  The  result  was  a  tie,  each  school  scoring 
37  J  points,  and  out  of  fifteen  records  on  the  programme 
eleven  were  broken.  Some  of  the  best  performances  were 
Somers's  jump  of  21  ft.  5  in.  in  the  broad;  Perry's  pole-vault 
of  9  ft.  3  in.;  and  the  winning  of  the  low  hurdles  by  Ed- 
wards in  28  seconds.  The  most  exciting  period  of  the  day 
was  toward  the  close  of  the  meeting,  when  Portland  High 
was  10  points  ahead  of  Bangor  High,  aud  only  the  hammer 
and  standing  high  jump  to  be  decided.  Portland  felt  al- 
most sure  of  victory,  but  Godfrey  and  Connors  of  Bangor 
went  in  and  took  the  first,  two  places  in  the  hammer,  with 
Wakefield  of  Thornton  third,  thus  shutting  Portland  out 
from  winning  any  points  in  that  event.  Not  only  this, 
but  Godfrey  broke  the  record  by  more  than  eight  feet. 
Then  he  answered  to  the  call  for  the  standing  high  jump, 
clearing  4  ft.  7  in.  at  his  first  trial,  and  there  tieing  Jordan 
of  Portland.  Both  men  tried  to  do  better,  but  were  unable 
to,  and  third  place  again  went  to  Thornton  with  Hidgdou. 
The  tie  will  make  the  record  of  victories  count  one  year 
for  each  school  in  the  holding  of  the  cup  now  in  the  cus- 
tody of  Bangor. 

OF  THE  ELEVEN  POINT-WINNERS  from  the  Adelphi  Acad- 
emy, Brooklyn,  at  the  Long  Island  Interscholastic  Games 
on  May  llth,  six  will  return  to  school  next  year.  These,  are 
Gunnison,  who  took  three  firsts  in  the  championship  games, 
Mooler,  Beasley,  Topping,  and  both  Forneys.  Of  the  others, 
Simpson  expects  to  enter  West  Point,  Opp  will  go  to  the 
Columbia  Law  School,  while  Muuson,Romer,  and  Jewell  will 
go  into  business.  The  last-named  will  be  the  greatest  loss 
to  the  team,  as  he  made  almost  as  good  a  showing  at  Eastern 
Park  as  Gnnuison.  Nevertheless,  there  is  plenty  of  good 
material  left  in  the  school,  and  with  the  nucleus  that  re- 
mains Adelphi  ought  to  be  able  to  build  up  another  cham- 
pion team. 

THE  INTERSCHOLASTIC  GAMES  of  the  New  England  Asso- 
ciation, which  are  to  be  held  on  Holmes  Field,  Cambridge, 
next  Saturday,  will  bring  together  a  larger  number  of  con- 
testants than  have  appeared  at  any  interscholastic  event 
this  season.  The  New  England  I.S.A.A.  includes  about 
thirty  schools,  aud  more  than  twenty  will  send  representa- 
tives to  strive  for  the  cup.  While  it  is  not  so  very  difficult 
to  nness  the  probable  winners  of  first  place  in  the  principal 
events  on  the  card,  the  general  result  of  the  day  is  by  no 
means  a  certainty,  for  the  smaller  schools  always  manage  to 
send  one  or  two  "dark  horses"  who  upset  the  closest  cal- 
culations of  the  best  judges.  Nevertheless,  the  champion- 
ship probably  rests  with  the  Worcester  High-School,  or 
the  Boston  English  High-School,  or  the  Phillips  Academy, 
Andover.  The  W.H.-S.  team  won  the  in-door  meeting  last 
March  by  scoring  19  points,  and  most  of  the  winners  of  t  ha  t 
day  will  compete  on  Holmes  Field  this  week.  Andover  did 
not  send  a  full  team  to  the  iu-cloor  games,  and  the  E.H.-S. 
was  crippled  by  the  absence  of  some  of  its  best  athletes  on 
that  occasion,  but  both  schools  have  been  training  their 
strongest  men  for  the  past  few  weeks,  and  will  surely  be 
well  represented. 


G10 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


THE  100- YARDS -DASH  will  'be  won  by 
Roche  of  W.H.-S.,  Clarke  ofWorcestor  Acad- 
emy, or  Dunbar  of  E.H.-S.  These  three 
sprinters  breasted  the  tape  almost  together 
in  the  40-yard  dash  at  the  winter  meiTinj;. 
Roche  winning  by  a  few  inches  only.  I 
consider  Ferguson  the  surest  man  lor  the 
high  hurdles,  although  Chase  of  Andover 
will  be  close  upon  him.  The  low  hurdles 
will  make  a  pretty  race  for  Fuller,  Cam- 
bridge L.S.,  Heine,  P. A.,  arid  Seaver,  Brook- 
line  H.-S.  Fuller's  success  will  largely  de- 
pend on  whether  he  has  to  run  the  *20  flat 
before  he  takes  the  hurdles.  In  that  case 
Heine  and  Seaver  will  have  a  slight  advan- 
tage. But  if  Fuller  does  run  the  '220  before 
this,  he  ought  to  win  it,  with  Roche  aud 
Duubar  behind  him.  There  will  be  no  fast 
time  made  in  the  quarter,  and  the  race  will 
furnish  a  good  opportunity  for  a  surprise  by 
some  unknown  quantity .  Fish,  W.  A.,  Carle- 
ton,  Milton  Academy,  Purtell,  E.  H.-S.,  and 
Howe,  W.  H.-S.,  are  about  equal  in  ability 
for  that  distance.  Albertson,  W.  H.-S.,  and 
Batchelder,  R.  L.  S.,  will  have  a  close  race 
in  tbe  half-mile,  aud  I  have  no  doubt  that 
the  record  will  be  lowered.  Cunningham 
of  Hopkinsou  ought  to  be  third. 

IF  LAING  OF  AXDOVKI:  were  not  kept  out 
of  the  contest  by  the  age  limit  ruling  he 
would,  beyond  any  doubt,  take  the  mile  for 
P. A.  He  ran  it  at  the  Interscholastica  List 
year  in  4  miu.  32|  sec.  And  so,  unless  Au- 
dover  sends  down  another  good  man,  Dow 
of  E.H.-S.  will  probably  win  the  event. 
Moore  of  Newton  H.-S.  ought  to  take  the 
•walk,  with  Delauey  of  W.H.-S.  second,  and 
Barstow  of  Hopkinson  third.  For  the  field 
events  Holt  and  Dole  of  Roxbury  Latin,  and 
Henderson  of  E.H.-S.,  will  divide  the  honors 
in  the  high  jump,  while  the  broad  will  be 
contested  by  Purtell,  E.H.-S.  and  Holt, 
R.L.S.  The  shot  event  will  be  won  by 
O'Brien,  E.H.-S.,  with  Jordan,  W.H.-S.  and 
Holt,  P.A.,  in  the  places.  Johnson,  W.A., 
should  win  the  pole-vault,  although  The- 
noin,  R.L.S. ,  may  push  him.  The  hammer 
rests  with  Seargent  of  Hopkinsou,  Coau, 
E.H.-S.,  or  Barney,  R.L.S.  With  so  many 
tnen  competing  from  such  a  large  number 
of  different  schools,  it  is  not  probable  that 
the  winning  score  will  be  much  greater 
than  25,  and  the  winner  of  second  place 
ought  to  come  close  to  the  same  figure. 

THE  NEW  YORK  INTERSCHOLASTIC  Tennis 
Tournament,  under  the  auspices  "f  Columbia 
College,  had  a  large  entry  list  that  required 
three  days  to  be  played  off.  The  games  were 
all  characterized  by  steady  work  rather  than 
by  any  particularly  brilliant  play,  and  the 
championship  was  won  by  Waltz  of  the  Leal 
School,  Plaiufield.  He  met  Wigliam  of  Har- 
vard School  in  the  finals,  and  had  a  com- 
paratively easy  time  of  it,  defeat  ing  the  New- 
Yorker  in  three  straight  sets — 6—1,6-2,6-4. 
He  will  go  to  Newport  for  the  big  Inter- 
scholastic  tournament  this  summer,  and  will 
meet  the  other  school  league  champions, 
Ware  of  the  N.  E.  I.  S.  A.  A.,  Sheldon  of  the 
Connecticut  I.S.A.A.,  aud  Beamau,  who  won 
in  the  Pennsylvania  I.A.L.  Tournament  at 
Princeton.  I  consider  Ware  the  strongest 
player  of  this  quartet,  and  expect  to  see  him 
win  at  Newport.  He  will  be  heard  from  at. 
the  Longwood  Tournament  next  Saturday 
too. 


THE  PROSPECTS  OF  LAWREXCEYILLE  be- 
ing victorious  over  Andover  in  the  baseball 
game  to-morrow  have  been  daily  increasing, 
and  I  believe 'now  that  the  Jersey  men  will 
win.  Andover  does  not  seem  to  be  able  to 
reduce  the  average  of  errors  made  in  her 
games  so  far,  and  her  players  on  the  left- 
field  side  must  play  a  sharp  game  if  they 
wish  to  offset  Lawrenceville's  good  batters. 
St.  Mark's  School,  with  little  over  a  hun- 
dred boys  to  pick  a  nine  from,  defeated  the 
Phillips  Academy  team,  two  weeks  ago,  by 
the  score  of  6-3,  and  the  latter  suffered  an- 
other bad  defeat  from  the  Yale  Freshmen  a 
few  days  later.  St.  Mark's  victory  was  in  a 
considerable  measure  due  to  the  effective 
pitching  of  White,  who  held  the  Audover 
men  dowu  to  six  hits.  The  features  of  the 
game,  besides  White's  work  in  the  box, 
were  the  catching  of  Drew,  Andover's  Cap- 
tain, and  the  fielding  of  Folger.  Mills,  too, 
made  a  beautiful  running  catch  of  a  long 
fly.  I  am  surprised  that  the  St.  Mark's 
batters  were  able  to  get  seven  hits  oft"  Green- 
way,  as  it  has  been  Andover's  boast  that 
their  battery  is  as  good  as  any  in  the  schools. 
It  is;  and  I  surmise  that  Greenway  had  an 
oft-day  at  Southboro.  He  must  do  better  to- 
morrow or  Lawrenceville  will  have  an  easy 
time  with  their  Massachusetts  rivals.  The 
Jersey  players  have  greatly  improved,  the 
past  week,  especially  in  team-work.  They 
bave  won  within  the  past  fifteen  days  two 
games  from  the  Penuiugton  Seminary's 
strong  team,  they  have  defeated  the  Prince- 
ton Freshmen,  aud  they  got  excellent  prac- 
tice out  of  their  match  with  the  Princeton 
'Varsity.  Audover  will  have  the  advantage 
of  home  grounds  and  the  crowd,  but  they 
will  need  more  than  that  to  pile  up  the  runs. 

A  NEW  INVENTION  by  Professor  E.  W. 
Scripture,  of  Yale,  will  be  interesting  to  all 
track  athletes.  The  apparatus  is  one  that 
will  measure  a  runner's  "  reaction  time." 
This  time  is  that  which  elapses  between  the 
moment  the  pistol  is  discharged  and  the 
moment  the  sprinter  starts.  The  brief  pe- 
riod between  these  two  moments  is  taken 
up  by  nature  in  transmitting  the  sound 
from  the  ear  to  the  brain,  and  the  impulse 
to  run  from  the  brain  to  the  muscles  of  the 
legs.  Professor  Scripture  believes  that  the 


length  of  reaction  time  is  frequently  an  im- 
portant factor,  and  he  argues  that  with  a 
runner  it  must  be  reduced  to  the  shortest  pos- 
silile  limit,  as  one-fifth  of  a  second  counts  in 
a  race.  By  experiments  the  inventor  lias 
proved  to  his  own  satisfaction  that  the  time 
which  elapses  between  the  tiring  of  the  start- 
er's pistol  and  the  actual  start  of  the  run- 
ner is  long  enough  to  influence  the  winning 
of  a  race.  The  reaction  time  of  a  runner  may 
vary  from  one-sixth  to  one-third  of  a  second. 
The  new  invention  is  an  arrangement  bv 
which  a  runner's  reaction  time  may  be  mea- 
sured to  within  the  one-thousandth  part  of 
a  second.  The  starter's  pistol  is  arranged 
so  tbat  an  electric  contact  is  broken  when 
the  pistol  goes  off.  A  thread  is  attached 
to. the  right  foot  of  the  runner,  and  this 
thread  breaks  an  olectric  contact  the  mo- 
ment he  starts.  The  distance  marked  on  a 
cylinder  by  these  two  contacts  measures 
the  individual's  reaction  time.  Sport  may 
soon  reach  such  a  scientific  stage  of  advance- 
ment that  sprinters  will  be  handicapped 
with  reference  to  their  "reaction  time." 
THE  GRADUATE. 


CHARLOTTE  CUSHMAN,  a  celebrated  actress, 
was  tilling  an  engagement  at  the  opera- 
house  in  B .  A  man  in  the  gallery  cre- 
ated such  a  disturbance  that  it  seriously 
impeded  the  progress  of  the  play,  and  final- 
ly brought  it  to  a  standstill.  Immediately 
the  audience,  furious  with  auger,  cried : 
"Throw  him  over!  Throw  him  over!" 

Miss  Temple  stepped  to  the  edge  of  the 
footlights,  and  in  a  sweet  aud  gentle  voice 
exclaimed:  "No,  I  pray  yon,  don't  throw 
him  over.  I  beg  of  you,  dear  friends,  don't 
throw  him  over,  but  kill  him  where  he  is .'" 


AN  Irishman  was  on  trial  tor  commit- 
ting a  burglary,  and  had  conducted  his 
own  case.  The  evidence  against  him  was 
strong,  aud  the  judge,  after  summing  up, 
remarked,  while  looking  at  the  prisoner, 
that  he  could  detect  the  rascal  and  villain 
in  his  face.  "  Hold  there !"  shouted  the  pris- 
oner. "  I  object ;  that  is  a  personal  reflec- 
tion." 


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E 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


BICYCLING 


Copyright,  1895,  by  Harper  &  Brothers. 


This  Department  is  conducted  lit  the  interest  of  Bicyclers,  and  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to 
answer  any  question  on  the  subject.  Our  maps  and  tours  contain  nun  h  val&ahle  data  kindly 
supplied  from  the  official  maps  and  road-books  of  the  League  of  American  Wheelmen.  Recog- 
nizing the  value  of  the  work  being  done  by  the  L  A.  W.  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to  fnrciab 
subscribers  with  membership  blanks  and  information  so  far  as  possible. 

THE  run  from  Brooklyn  to  Babylon  along  the  south  shore 
of  Long  Island  is  perhaps  the  best  bicycle  run  on  the 
Island,  and  is  the  first  thirty-five  miles  of  the  famous  ceutury- 
run  which  is  made  every  year  by  the  Kings  County  Wheel- 
men ;  and  there  is  no  doubt  that  this  100-mile  course  along  the 
shore  of  Long  Island  is  as  easy  a  run  as  there  is  in  the  east 
United  States.  The  road  is  macadamized  most  of  the  way 
to  Babylon,  and  is  at  present  finished  about  as  far  as  Sea- 
ford.  From  Seaford  on  to  Babylon  the  road  is  a  good  one,, 
though  not  all  macadamized.  The  wheelman  intending  to 
make  this  run  should  examine  the  map  of  Brooklyn  pub- 
lished in  last  week's  ROUND  TABLE.  He  will  there  find  the 
way  to  get  from  his  residence,  whether  in  Brooklyn  or  New 
York,  to  Prospect  Park.  Starting  from  Prospect  Park,  rnu 
up  the  Boulevard  to  Liberty  Avenue  at  East  New  York, 
and,  turning  right  into  this,  continue  thence  to  Woodhaven- 
At  Woodhaveu  take  the  left-hand  fork  and  run  out  to 
Jamaica.  The  road  through  Jamaica  is  clearly  enough 
marked,  as  it  is  the  beginning  of  the  Plank  Road  that  con- 
tinues on  to  Jericho.  The  rider  should  keep  on  this  road, 
which  is  in  good  condition,  out  of  Jamaica  a  mile  or  more, 
passing  through  Hollis  and  Holliswood  Park.  At  the  latter 
place,  and  just  before  reaching  Queens,  a  turn  should  be 
made  to  the  right,  and  after  crossing  the  track  the  rider 
will  run  out  over  a  good  road  about  seven  miles  to  Hemp- 
stead.  On  entering  Hempstead  he  may  turn  to  the  left  and 
run  up  to  Garden  City,  where  there  is  a  hotel  that  is  welL 
kept,  and  a  good  place  for  a  short  stop  if  one  is  desired. 

RETURNING  TO  HEMPSTEAD,  the  rider  keeps  to  the  main 
road,  running  down  towards  Ridgewood,  and  comes  into 
the  Shore  Road,  and  thence  the  run  continues  straight  on 
through  South  Jerusalem,  Seaford,  Amityville,Lindenhnrst, 
into  Babylon.  The  whole  run  from  Brooklyn  is  practically 
a  forty-mile  journey, and  if  the  wheelman  intends  to  re- 
turn on  his  wheel  to  Brooklyn  he  can  keep  straight  on  the- 
Shore  Road,  passing  through  Freeport, Rockville  Centre,  and 
Valley  Stream,  instead  of  turning  to  the  right  near  Ridge- 
•wood,  and  going  hack  through  Hempstead.  The  great  ad- 
vantage of  this  run  is  that  there  are  almost  no  hills  along 
the  line  of  the  road,  and  the  wheelman  has  as  "clean  "a 
ride  as  can  be  found  in  the  vicinity  of  New  York.  When 
all  the  roadway  along  the  South  Side  of  Long  Island  is 
finally  macadamized  there  will  be  hardly  a  single  run  in 
the  country  to  equal  it. 

K.  L.  T.—  The  cost  of  a  bicycle  trip  from  New  York  to  Liverpool,  thence 
to  France,  and  perhaps  into  Germany,  depends  entirely  on  how  much' 
luxury  the  traveller  expects  to  indulge  in,  and  whether  he  or  she  will  ride- 
entirely  or  will  frequently  use  railway  trains.  It  is  safe  to  say,  however, 
that  it  is  possible  after  reaching  Europe  to  make  a  bicycle  tour  through 
France  and  Germany  on  an  average  of  two  dollars  per  day,  though  that 
requires  the  greatest  care  in  expenses.  (2)  It  would  be  hardly  advisable  for 
two  ladies  to  travel  through  France  and  Germany  alone  on  bicycles, 
though  it  could  be  done.  The  difficulty  would  be  that  bicyclists  still 
attract  attention,  and  two  foreign  women  would  be  much  more  likely 
to  meet  with  difficulties  than  if  they  travelled  by  rail,  to  say  nothing  of 
the  possible  accidents  to  their  machines.  (3)  The  necessary  luggage 
would  be  comparatively  easily  carried  in  the  triangular  water-proof  bi- 
cycle bag,  which  is  carried  on  a  diamond  frame  machine  inside  the  dia- 
mond, and  on  a  woman's  bicycle  in  a  different  shape  bag  attached  to 
the  handle-bar  in  the  front.  Any  woman  going  on  such  a  trip  should 
learn  how  to  take  a  bicycle  to  pieces  and  put  it  together  again,  and  in  the 
process  of  learning  she  will  discover  what  tools  are  necefsary.  Material 
for  mending  tires  is  absolutely  neeessnry —  a  good  monkey-wrench,  oil 
cans,  a  tire  inflator,  pincers,  and  a  reasonably  good  supply  of  small  wire 
and  t\viue  for  making  repairs  where  such  material  is  necessary.  In 
France  you  will  probably  find  no  difficulty  in  having  all  necessary  bicycle 

NOTK.— Map  of  New  York  city  asphalted  streets  in  No.  809.  Map  of 
route  from  New  York  to  Tarrytown  in  No.  810.  New  York  to  Stamfordr 
Connecticut,  in  No.  811.  New  York  to  Staten  Island  in  No.  812.  New- 
Jersey,  from  Hobokeu  to  Pine  Brook  in  No.  813.  Brooklyn  iu  No.  814. 


612 


HAEPEK'S   BOUND   TABLE 


repairs  made,  especially  in  the  cities  and  larger  towns. 
It  would  be  much  cheaper  to  stop  at  houses,  and  in 
England,  and  perhaps  to  a  certain  extent  in  France 
aud  Germany,  such  travellers  are  very  ,\vell  received 
in  the  cottages  of  the  peasants  in  the  middle  classes. 
(4)  The  best  bicycle  roads  in  the  world  are  in  England, 
and  England  has  for  many  years  been  called  the  '•  bi- 
cyclist's paradise."  The  French  government  roads 
come  next,  both  being  comparatively  free  from  hills. 
German  roads  are  by  no  meana  as  good,  and  the  coun- 
try is  mure  hilly.  Swiss  roads  are  moderately  good, 
and  in  some  places  very  fine,  but  they  are  apt  to  be 
extremely  hilly.  Northern  Italy  would  probably  come 
next ;  but  it  is  safe  to  say  that  for  two  women  taking 
their  first  bicycle  tour,  England  is  by  far  the  best 
place  to  travel  in.  (5)  If  two  ladies  travel  second-class 
on  a  steamer  to  Liverpool  they  might  meet  with  some 
unpleasant  incidents,  but  it  is  now  possible  to  get  a 
first-class  return  ticket  on  some  of  the  smaller  steam- 
ers of  the  important  lines  quite  as  cheaply  as  a  second- 
class  return  ticket  on  the  larger  steamers.  For  in- 
stance, a  first-class  ticket  and  return  to  Havre. 
Fiance,  or  Southampton,  England,  can  be  bought  for 
from  ninety  to  one  hundred  dollars  on  the  smaller 
steamers  of  the  Hamburg  and  North  German  Lloyd 
lines.  It  would,  of  course,  be  cheaper  to  buy  a  return 
ticket. 


Any  questions  in  regard  to  phutopraph  iniitlers  will  be  willingly 
answered  by  the  editor  of  this  column,  and  we  should  tie  glad  to  hear 
from  any  of  our  club  wlio  cnn  make  helpful  suggestions. 

BROKEN  NEGATIVES. 

SOMETIMES  one  is  so  unfortunate  as  to 
break  a  negative  which  cannot  well  be 
replaced.     The   amateur  who   understands 

little  about  photographic  work  is,  in  such  a 
case,  quite  likely  to  think  that  the  negative 
is  ruined,  and  throw  it  away;  but  unless  it 
has  been  broken  in  many  pieces  it  can  be 
repaired  so  that  one  can  get  as  good  a 
print  from  it  as  before  it  was  broken. 

If  there  is  one  clear  break  across  the 
glass,  but  not  through  the  lilin,  place  the 
negative  in  the  printing  frame,  pushing  the 
broken  edges  closely  together,  holding  them 
while  adjusting  the  sensitive  paper.  Kasti-n 
in  the  printing  frame,  and  print  in  a  diffused 
light — that  is,  not  in  the  direct  rays  of  the 
sun.  Place  the  negative  at  such  an  angle 
with  the  light  that  the  crack  across  the  glass 
shall  not  make  a  shadow. 

If  there  are  several  cracks  in  the  glass, 
but  not  in  the  film,  put  the  negative  in  the 
printing  frame,  supporting  it  by  a  piece  of 
plain  glass  ;  tie  cords  to  the  printing  frame 
so  that  it  may  be  suspended  by  them  ;  hang 
the  frame  from  some  projection  where  it 
will  not  hit  anything,  and  keep  it  revolv- 
ing during  the  printing  process.  The  plate 
moving  all  the  time,  the  cracks  in  the  glass 
do  not  cast  a  shadow  long  enough  in  one 
place  to  make  any  impression  on  the  sensi- 
tive paper.  If  one  cannot  arrange  the  frame 
in  this  way,  it  may  be  placed  at  the  bottom 
of  a  large  deep  bos  without  a  cover,  and 
left  to  print. 

If  the  film  is  broken  as  well  as  the  glass, 
take  a  piece  of  plain  glass  the  size  of  the 
negative — a  spoiled  plate  is  just  the  thing 
— lay  the  broken  pieces  on  this  plain  glass, 
taking  care  that  the  picture  lines  of  the 
negative  are  true,  and  bind  the  edges  of  the 
glass  and  negative  together  with  strips  of 
gummed  paper.  When  the  strips  arc  dn, 
varnish  the  film  with  negative  varnish.  It 
is  better  to  purchase  the  varnish  ready  pre- 
pared than  to  attempt  to  fix  it  one's  self. 


If  the  negative  is  badly  broken,  but  noi 
splintered,  apply  Canada  balsam  with  ; 
toothpick  to  the  edges  of  the  broken  parts 
and  press  them  firmly  together,  keeping  the 
negative  ou  a  flat  surface  during  the  pro- 
cess, a  glass  plate  a  little  larger  than  the 
negative  being  the  best  thing  to  use.  When 
the  balsam  is  thoroughly  dry,  flow  the  nega 
tive  with  varnish,  and  as  soon  as  it  begim, 
to  set  cover  it  with  a  piece  of  glass  the  size 
of  the  negative.  When  dry,  bind  the  edges 
together  with  strips  as  before  directed.  If 
I  he  iii'gati  ve  is  very  badly  broken,  it  should 
be  enclosed  between  two  pieces  of  plain 
glass,  putting  on  the  second  in  tin*  same 
manner,  after  the  first  is  dry.  Bind  the  three 
together. 

An  excellent  paste  for  binding  negatives 
and  lantern  slides  is  made  of  rice  flour. 
Mix  rice  flour  with  water  till  it  is  smooth 
and  free  from  lumps.  Set  the  dish  contain- 
ing it  into  another  of  hot  water,  and  boil 
till  it  becomes  thick  and  semi-transparent, 
stirring  it  all  the  time.  When  done  it 
should  be  about  the  consistency  of  laundry 
starch  made  for  collars  and  cuffs.  This  paste 
is  very  strong  —  in  fact,  almost  as  durable 
as  cement.  If  a  few  drops  of  carbolic  acid 
are  added  to  it,  it  will  keep  for  some  time. 
The  bottle  should  be  tightly  corked  when 
not  in  use. 

If  the  film  has  not  been  broken  it  can  be 
removed  from  the  glass  in  the  same  way 
(Continued,  on  page  615.) 


FEED  THEM  PROPERLY 

and  carefully  ;  reduce  the  painfully  large  percentage 
of  infant  mortality.  Take  no  chances  and  make  no 
experiments  in  this  very  important  matter.  The  Gail 
Bordeu  Eagle  Brand  Condensed  Milk  has  saved  thou- 
sands of  little  lives.—  [Ado.] 


ADVERTISEMENTS. 


e  <^\J 


Children's  Wear 

A.,  C.  &  CO.  will    offer   the  balance 
of  their 

CHILDBED'S  IMPORTED 

WOOL, 

GINGHAM,  LAWN, 
AND  BATISTE  DRESSES 

At  Greatly  Reduced  Prices 


ii 


\  Jit?  6k. 


NEW    YORK. 


613 


Trilby's  Foot 

was  perfect  (perhaps 
yours  is),  but  even  per- 
fect feet  get  tired,  and 
nothing  takes  out  the 
tired  aches  like  Pond's 
Extract. 

Avoid  substitutes;  accept  genuine  only, 
with  bufl'w  rapper  aud  yellow  label. 

POND'S    EXTRACT    CO.,   76   Fifth   Ave.,  New   York. 


Stamps, 


100  all  dif.  Venezuela,  Costa  Rica,  etc.,  only 
10c.;  200  all  (lit. llayti, Hawaii, etc. , only  50c. 
Ag'ts  wanted  at  5(1  per  ct.com.  List  FRKE! 
t.A.St«giiiaini,'2T'J2EadsAv.,St.Louis,JIo. 


var.,  all  di£.,  5c.;  12  var.   Heligoland, 
_  15c.;  6  var.  Italy,  185S  tolS62,5c.;  3  var. 

anover,  Be.:  35  var.  C. American, 50c.  Agents  wanted. 
F.  W.   <l  1 1  i.i  If.  9W  Olite  St.,  St.  Louis,  Ho. 


n"  different, China,  elc.,  10c.;  5  Saxony,  10c.: 
40  Spain,' 40c.;  6  Tunis,  14c. ;    10  U.  S.  Rev- 
enu.es,  NIC.  Agts.  wtd.,  60*  com.; '95  list  free. 
CRITTENDEN  &  BORGMAN  CO.,  Detroit,  Mich. 


100 


varieties  Chili,  Japan,  etc.,  10  cts.;  list  free 
CARL  YOUNG,  72  First  Place,  Brooklyn,  N.  Y. 


VAR.  FREE  to  all  sending  for  my  approval  sheets 
at  :."     dis.     C.  B.  ANTISDALE,  Palmyra,   N.  J. 


•  WONDER  CABINET  FREE.  Missing  Link 
JPuxtle,  Devil's  Bottle,  Pocket  Camera,  L»wst 
I  Wire  Futile,  Spook  Photo,  Book  of  Sltigbtof 
I  Hand.  Total  Value  60o.  Sent  free  with  immenM 

talogue  of  1000  Birgainafor  lOc.  for  postage. 
GERSOLL  4  BRO.,  65  Cortlandt  Street  N.  T. 


HARPER'S  PERIODICALS. 

fer  Year: 

HAHPER'S  MAGAZINE Postage  Fief,$t  00 

HARPER'S  WEEKLY 4  00 

HARPERS  HAZAR "  400 

HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE 200 


Booksellers  and  Postmasters  usually  receive  subscrip- 
ions.  Subscriptions  sent  direct  to  the  publishers  should 
<e  accompanied  by  Post-office  Money  Order  or  Draft, 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  Franklin  Square,  N.  V. 


HARPER'S   ROUKD   TABLE 


IRounD  liable  Chapters. 

No.  720.— The  Nathan  Hale  Chapter,  of  Philadel- 
phia,  I'a.  Blair  Baker.  Thomas  Bleint,  Howard  B. 
Rote.  Section  E,  No.  5,  Girard  College,  Philadel- 
phia. 

Ko.  73i._ The  Rugby  Chapter,  of  New  York  city. 
Officers  are  N.  J.  Spiro,  W.  W.  Gleason,  II  F.  small. 
Other  members  are  R.  Mantell,  N.  Marluff,  F.  B. 
Bustler,  H.  C.  Moore,  R.  Heather.  L.  IVabody. 
i  Ibapter  address,  H.  F.  Small, 54  West  85th  Street. 

No.  722.— The  King  Arthur  Chapter,  of  Urbaua, 
III.  Its  color  is  white,  and  its  emblem  white  rose 
and  clover.  Marjorie  Forbes  and  Ethel  Ricker, 
Urbaua. 

No.  723.— The  Thespis  Dramatic  Chapter,  of  Chi- 
cago, 111.  Lola  Lewis,  Laura  \Velch.  Other  mem- 
bers are  Marie  Ifosenfield,  Eleanor  Lydou.  Chap- 
ter address,  4454  Oakenwald  Avenue. 

No.  724,—  The  John  Burroughs  Chapter,  of  Win- 
sted,  Conn.  Elizabeth  Keniiard.  Ruth  E.  Whiting. 
Other  members  are  Mabel  Churchill,  Grace  A. 
Smith,  Grace  and  Mary  Kennard.  It  is  a  natural 
history  Chapter,  and  devotes  spare  moments  to 
the  study  of  birds,  trees,  aud  flowers.  Ruth  E. 
Whiting.  Winsted. 

No.  725.— The  Lincoln  Chapter,  of  Glasgow,  Mont. 
RoyE.  Hall, Wallace  Kellesou,  John  Sherry;  Walter 
Fryburg,  Glasgow. 

No.  726.— The  Margaret  Sangster  Chapter,  of  Ger- 
mania,  N.  J.  Augusta  Guenther,  Christine  and 
Julia  Gaupp  ;  Christine  Gaupp,  Germania. 

No.  737.— The  Fiances  II.  Burnett  Chapter,  of 
Minneapolis,  Minn.  It.  is  organized  for  the  en- 
couragement of  goodly  fellowship  and  improve- 
ment. It  desires  to  communicate  with  Knights 
aud  Ladies  of  the  Rouud  Table  living  in  Minne- 
apolis. Its  officers  are  Fred  H.  Stevens,  Lottie 
Kluge,  Myrtle  Jones;  Florence  Kimball,  3600 
Blootnington  Avenue. 


Lovers  of  Play  Journalism. 

Odd,  isn't  it,  how  everybody  loves  to  see  what  he 
•writes  in  print?  The  oldest  editor  in  America  is 
not  free  from  this  vanity,  or  whatever  one  may 
call  it.  So  young  persons  who  play  at  making 
small  papers  are  in  good  company.  Besides,  they 
are  engaged  in  what  affords  them  experience  they 
can  get  in  no  other  way.  Three  excellent  ama- 
teur papers  reach  the  Table  :  the  Amateur  t \>ll>  <:tvr. 
1;  T  Hale  aud  F.  W.  Beale,  editors  and  publishers, 
23  Federal  Street,  Newburyport,  Mass.;  Our  Young 
People,  Robinson  Bros.  &  Co.,  Box  355,  Brunswick, 
Me.;  and  the  Little  Magnet,  Louis  O.  Brosie,  editor, 
3405  Butler  Street,  Pittsburg,  Pa.  All  three  are 
splendid  examples  of  the  editor's  and  printer's 
"arts."  Here  are  some  members  who  are  inter- 
ested in  journalism,  want  sample  copies,  and  can 
con  1 1  -Unite  morsels  :  Waldemar  Young.  174  r  street, 
Salt  Lake  City,  Utah;  J.  T.  Delano,  Jun..  12  White 
Street,  Newport  R.  I.;  James  F.  Bowen,  36  St. 
JamesAvenue,  Boston,  Mass  ;  and  Samuel  T.  Bush, 
1104  East  15th  Street,  East  Oakland,  Cal. 

R.  C.  Megrue  asks  what  it  costs  to  start  and  run 
a  small  paper.  That  depends  on  how  large  it  is, 
and  whether  you  have  a  press  of  your  own.  The 
cost  is  considerable  per  copy  if  you  go  to  a  regular 
printing-office,  because  the  edition  is  rarely  above 
two  or  three  hundred  copies.  The  charge  in  one 
case  we  know  of  was  §7  per  hundred.  Will  not 
R.  T.  Hale  kindly  give  us  a  morsel  on  the  subject! 
Louis  O.  Brosie  and  Clement  F.  or  Arthur  L.  Rob- 
inson may  give  US  morsels  too.  Please  irll  ttur 
TaMe  about  the  cost,  size,  and  mention  some  of 
tiie  other  difficulties.  Never  mind  the  fun  of  the 
thing.  Pleasures  take  care  of  themselves. 


What  a  Copyright  Is. 

A  copyiiu'hr,  d.-;ir  sir  II;irry,  is  ;L  Io^;il  ri^ht  to  a 
O'M'V.  isii|.]H^,'  voti  Mini  your  friend  Delano,  four 
doors  away, should  pul»ii*h  a  book  that  proved  as 
pnpuhir  as— well,  let,  us  s:ty  Trilby*  or  Ben-II»r,  or 
r/"V.  rom'jf  Ca&indid  If  you  sen  tout  a  tv-\v  copies 
ami  inn  ii[M>u  lilt-in  no  letfaJ  proprietary  mark, 
other  persons  ^<-rin^  i  lit-,  (li-inand  could  ;iml  would 
take  your  work,  make  copies  of  it,  sellthem,  pocket 
the  nioin-y,  and  trive  \  on  aothing  for  wha.t  perhaps 
cost  you  a  (jretit  deal  of  effort.  If,  ho\v*'v<  r,  you 
observe  the  lejral  forms,  and  your  book  proves  sale- 


able,  other  persons  are  prevented  from  making  ad- 
ditional copies.  Those  who  want  copies  must  buy 
them  from  you.  The  legal  form  is  very  simple. 
Before  you  publish  the  book,  paper,  print,  or  what- 
ever it  is,  you  mail  two  copies  to  the  Librarian  of 
Congress,  Washington,  with  $1.  lie  returns  to  you 
a  paper, duly  signed,  setting  forth  the  fact  that  for 
a  certain  number  of  years  that  article  belongs  to 
you.  You  state  this  fact  on  each  copy  published, 
and  then  the  profit  is  yours,  and  the  law  protects 
you  in  it. 


Some  South  African  Birds. 

Following  the  example  of  other  members  of  the 
Round  Table,  I  thought  I  would  write  and  tell  you 
about  some  of  our  birds. 

My  brothers  and  I  have  just  been  talking  about 
the  blue  hawk.  It  is  not  a  particularly  large  bird, 
and  is  grayish-blue  in  color.  It  is  comparatively 
harmless,  its  chief  prey  being  rats  aud  mice.  Its 
nest  looks  like  a  pile  of  sticks  roughly  laid  together, 
but  at  the  bottom  of  the  nest  it  is  very  soft.  This 
is  the  description  my  little  cousin  gives  of  its  eggs  : 
"  If  you  were  to  take  a  pure  white  egg  and  rub  it 
all  over  with  blood,  leaving  a  few  white  specks,  it 
would  be  just  like  a  blue-hawk's  egg."  In  shape  it 
is  round,  and  the  color  is  really  a  dirty  red.  The 
bird's  call  sounds  very  much  like  that  of  a  cross 
fretful  baby.  , 

Another  peculiar  bird  here  is  the  hammerhop. 
It  is  a  large  brown  bird,  and  has  a  crest  upon  its 
bead  which  looks  like  a  hammer,  hence  the  name. 
It  preys  upon  the  frogs.  It  makes  a  tremendous 
nest  in  the  shape  of  a  hut  on  the  top  of  a  high 
rock.  I  atu  told  that  it  plasters  the  nest  on  the  in- 
side. 

One  of  our  prettiest  birds  is  the  gilded  cuckoo  or 
diedrich.  The  color  of  its  back  is  green,  and  looks 
as  if  a  lot  of  bronze  dust  had  been  sprinkled  on  it. 
Its  breast  is  white  spotted  with  brown.  Like  other 
cuckoos,  it  lays  its  eggs  in  other  birds'  nests.  The 
color  of  the  eggs  is  pure  white.  It  has  a  very 
musical  call — "dee-dee-dee-died rich.  ' 

The  aasvogel  is  a  species  of  vulture.  It  is  of  a 
dirty  white  color,  and  has  no  feathers  at  all  on  its 
neck.  Almost  as  soon  as  an  animal  dies  the  sky 
is  darkened  by  aasvogels  flying  to  prey  upon  the 
body.  The  leader  or  king  perches  upon  it  first, 
while  his  followers  sit  round  waiting  until  he  is 
finished.  He  claims  the  eyes  as  his  portion,  as  a 
rule.  As  soon  as  he  has  satisfied  his  hunger  he 
flies  away,  leaving  his  followers  to  have  their  share. 
The  aasvogel  builds  his  nest  of  sticks  on  the  top 
of  some  inaccessible  krautz  (precipice).  The  eggs 
are  white,  I  believe,  spotted  with  brown.  I  would 
like  to  correspond  with  Ladies  of  the  Round  Table 
in  different  parts  of  the  world.  ISHA  FINCHAM. 

ROYDOH,  QUEENBTOWN,  CAPE   COLONY,  SoCTH   AFKICA, 


Do  Your  Rabbits  Ever  Drink? 

Mr.  Chase  says  rabbits  drink.  I  think  there  are 
two  sides  to  that  question.  I  know  a  boy  who  has 
a  dozen  rabbits  and  not  one  ever  drinks.  I  have 
two  and  neither  ever  drink.  Another  friend  had 
two  that  he  kept  seven  years.  They  drank  milk, 
and,  at  rare  times,  water.  I  believe  that  rabbits 
can  be  trained  either  way.  What  is  the  experi- 
ence of  others?  VICTOR  R.  GAGE. 

VlNELAID. 

*     ,* 

A  Florida  Gopher. 

A  Florida  gopher  is  very  different  from  those  we 
read  about  as  living  out  West.  In  shape  and  size 
he  is  nearly  like  a  common  fresh-water  turtle,  with 
tliis  difference ;  he  lives  on  land.  The  gopher  has 
a  very  hard  shell  .-overing  his  entire  body  except 
the  head  and  feet.  His  Iront  feet  are  nearly  like  a 
turtle's,  with  four  or  five  claws,  but  very  hard. 
They  must  of  neces-iiy  tie  hard,  tor  this  animal 
burrows  very  deep  in  this  hard,  clay  ground.  His 
hind  feet  are  round,  with  aflat,  bottom,  four  to  five 
claws  on  each,  evidently  made  for  pushing  when 
walking  or  burrowing.  They  look  like  amiuiature 
elephant's  foot.  i 

Ills  head  is  also  very  much  like  a  turtle's.  \\  In  n 
alarmed  he  draws  his  head  and  feet  into  his  shell 
and  remains  quiet.  He  is  a  very  peaceful  animal. 
I  have  never  k"nown  one  to  bite  anybody  nor  any- 
thing else.  The  gopher  lives  in  the  ground,  bur- 

614 


rowing  a  molelike  passage  several  hundred  feet 
long.  There  is  no  use  trying  to  dig  for  one.  It 
would  take  a  week  of  the  hardest  kind  of  work  to 
reach  the  bottom  of  his  tunnel. 

He  comes  out  every  day  about  noon  for  his 
meals.  He  eats  grass,  weeds,  clover,  etc.,  for  his 
regular  meals;  but  when  he  finds  a  farm  with 
pease,  beans,  and  other  vegetables,  unless  he  is  dis- 
covered in  time  he  will  do  a  great,  deal  of  damage, 
for  he  eats  such  things  voraciously.  In  raising 
their  young  the  female  lays  from  five  to  six  eggs 
in  the  dirt  she  has  thrown  out  when  digging  her 
tunnel.  She  buries  them,  and  in  a  few  weeks 
hatches  out.  a  great  number  of  the  cutest  little 
things  you  ever  saw.  They  do  not  stay  with  their 
mother,  but  go  immediately  to  forming  a  little  bur- 
row for  themselves,  which  is  from  five  to  six  feet 
deep.  They  can  live  a  long  time  without  any  food 
whatever.  Their  flesh  is  also  eatable,  tasting  some- 
what like  chicken.  May  I  write  again  1 

UMATILLA,  FLA.  HARRY  R.  WHITCOJIB. 

Certainly  you  may  write  again. 


Blackberries  Nearly  the  Year  Round. 

Down  here  we  have  a  great  variety  of  fruit.  We 
have  blackberries  nearly  all  the  year  round.  They 
commence  in  March  and  last  until  about  the  end 
of  November.  All  are  what  we  call  wild  in  the 
States.  Indians  peddle  them  in  big  baskets  on 
their  backs.  They  are  a  great  deal  smaller  than 
yours,  and  can  only  be  eaten  when  cooked.  I 
would  like  to  exchange  Mexican  postage  and  rev- 
enue stamps  with  some  Knights  of  the  Round 
Table.  ROBEIIT  L  MILLER,  JUN. 

P.  O.  Box  3la,  MEXICO  CITY,  Mexico. 


Hounting  Paper  Money. 

A  California  member  asks  how  to  fix  paper 
money  so  that  it  may  be  examined  without  having 
to  take  it  out  of  envelopes  each  time.  There  are 
two  ways  of  mounting  your  specimens.  The  first 
and  most  difficult  is  to  take  very  stiff  paper  and 
make  a  leaf  with  an  opening  of  the  exact  size,  like 
the  opening  in  a  photograph  album  leaf.  Mucil- 
age the  tiniest  edge  all  around,  and  press  till 
thoroughly  dry. 

The  oilier  way  is  to  cover  the  four  corners,  but 
this  prevents  the  back  from  being  seen.  An  ideal 
way  would  be  to  have  two  specimens — one  to 
mount  one  side  front,  the  other  the  other  side. 
Rare  manuscripts  are  mounted  according  to  the 
first  method,  and  then  the  heavy  albumlike  leaves 
are  bound  into  a  book. 


milant  Corner. 

Do  you  live  in  Chateaugay,  N.  T.?  Please  favor 
Blanche  French,  West  Dedham,  Mass.,  with  some 
account  of  the  place,  its  size,  location,  aud  any  in- 
teresting information.  She  will  be  most  grateful. 
Hubert  B.  Stephens  is  the  new  secretary  of  the 
Bollman  Chapter,  and  his  address  is  Box  874,  Sharps- 
burg,  Pa.  It  is  a  corresponding,  stamp,  aud  botany 
club  with  ten-cent  fee  and  live -cent  dues.  Of 
course  it  wants  to  hear  from  anybody  interested. 
S.  J.  Tucker,  2S1S  Mary  Street,  Pittsburg,  Pa.,  wants 
to  find  old  copies  of  Xotts  ami  Queries.  Have  you 
any?  He  will  reward  you  if  you  write  him. 

The  Benjamin  Harrison  Chapter,  of  Lee,  Mass., 
wants  suggestions  how  to  make  its  meetings  in- 
teresting. It  also  wants  correspondents.  Won't 
you  write?  Ernest  A.  Chaplin,  Somerset  East, 
Cape  Colony,  South  Africa,  writes  to  the  Table : 
"There  is  a  beautiful  mountain  just  outside  our 
town,  and  on  it  a  place  called  '  Rabbit  Rock.' "  Sir 
Ernest  says  he  collects  stamps,  and  has  many  rare 
ones  to  trade. 

The  fee  for  admission  to  the  Thaddeus  Stevens 
Chapter,  910  North  Broad  Street,  Philadelphia,  is 
ten  cents,  and  it  wants  members,  both  resident  and 
non-resident.  By  mistake  we  announced  the  fee 
as  §1.  The  Sylvia  Chapter  was  prompt  to  give  us 
t  he  asked-for  facts  about  it.  Its  president  is  Mary 
I1,.  Yohn,  5813  Jackson  Street,  Wissinoming,  Phila- 
delphia: secretary.  A.  Grace  Owen.  One  of  its 
members,  Harriett  O.  Bender,  wants  to  trade  flow- 
ers. Address  care  the  president.  Will  the  Sylvia's 
president  tell  us  how  its  meetings  are  made  inter- 
esting? We  wish  to  publish  the  information. 


HAEPEE'S  ROUND  TABLE 


(Continued from  pay*  013.) 

that  films  an-  stripped,  and  transferred  to 
another  clean  plate. 

For  very  valuable  negatives  it  is  a  good 
plan  to  make  a  paper  negative,  in  case  of 
accident  to  the  glass  one.  A  paper  nega- 
tive is  made  by  taking  a  good  print  of  the 
negative  and  waxing  it  according  to  direc- 
tions -ivni  in  Xo.  7^*2  "answers  to  queries." 
Make  a  print  from  this  waxed  positive,  sup- 
porting the  paper  while  iu  the  printing 
frame  by  a  sheet  of  plain  glass.  Tone  and 
fix  this  print,  which  will  be  a  negative. 
Wax  it,  and  if  yon  are  so  unfortunate  as  to 
break  the  original,  you  will  still  have  the 
paper  copy,  which  can  be  used  in  its  plaee. 
For  negatives  that  can  be  replaced  it  is 
not  wise  to  spend  the  time  in  repairing  t  hem 
if  broken,  but  it  sometimes  happens  that  a 
valuable  one  is  broken  which  cannot  be 
duplicated,  and  with  careful  handling  it  can 
be  made  "  as  good  as  new." 

Sin  KNIGHT  HARRY  T.  LUTHER,  New  York,  asks  what 
causes  his  negatives  to  turn  yellow,  and  it  there  is  any 
remedy  for  it.  The  reason  why  negatives  turn  yellow- 
is  usually  because  they  have  not  been  washed  long 
enough.  They  should  be  washed  in  running  water  an 
hour.  It'  running  water  is  not  convenient  soak  the 
phtk-  tor  tun  hours,  changing  the  water  several  times. 
The  yellow  stuins  may  sometimes  be  removed  by 
soaking  the  negative  for  a  short  time  in  a  solution  of 
one  ounce  sulphite  of  soda  and  nine  ounces  water,  to 
which  a  few  drops  of  sulphuric  acid  have  been  addi-d. 
Sir  Harry  also  asks  what  toning  solution  to  use  with 
the  plain  paper  described  in  Nos.  796  and  803.  The 
combined  toning  solution  used  for  aristo  paper  is  the 
best  solution  for  the  plain  paper.  It  works  quickly, 
and  gives  soft  clear  tones. 

SIR  KNIGHT  WII.UAM  KKT.SKY  asks  if  a  combined 
toning  and  fixing  solution  can  he  prepared  for  auto- 
type paper — how  long  negatives  and  prints  should  be 
washed  in  running  water— and  what  use  is  made  of 
hyposulphite  of  soda  and  alum  in  developing  nega- 
tives. A  combined  toning  solution  for  aristo  may  he 
bought  ready  prepared,  or 'one  can  prepare  it  at  home. 
A.  formula  comes  with  each  package  of  paper,  and 
half  the  quantity  given  is  enough  to  prepare  at  one 
time,  unless  one  has  a  large  number  of  prints  to  tone. 
Hyposulphite  of  soda  and  alum  are  used  for  fixing 
the  negative  after  developing.  The  hypo  can  be  used 
for  fixing  without  the  addition  of  the  alum.  The 
alum  hardens  and  clears  the  film,  and  is  good  to  us*; 
in  warm  weather  to  prevent  the  frilling  of  the  film. 

SIR  KNIGHT  GKORGR  H.  BKNZON,  JUN.,  Philadelphia, 
Pa.,  asks  for  the  best  solution  for  fixing  plates.  A 
solution  of  4  ounces  water  and  1  ounce  of  hyposul- 
phite of  sodais  the  formula  used  by  the  editor  of  this 
column  both  in  warm  and  cold  weather.  In  warm 
weather  the  tray  containing  the  fixing  solution  is  set 
in  a  pan  containing  pieces  of  ice,  which  prevent*  the 
frilling  or  softening  of  the  film.  A  formula  for  a  fixing 
solution  with  soda  and  alum  is  given  in  No.  80S,  an- 
swer to  8ir  Knight  Frederick  Kopper. 

SIR  KNIGHTS  D.  G.  STANHROUGH,  A.  SMITH,  HARI.OVV 
Brown,  and  Lady  Florence  Crane  all  ask  for  a  good 
formula  for  a  toning  solution,  but  neither  one  says  for 
what  kind  of  paper.  The  formulas  for  toning  baths 
are  very  numerous,  and  different  chemicals  are  used 
for  different  sensitive  papers.  As  aristo  paper  is  ut 
present  a  very  popular  paper,  we  give  the  following 
standard,  combining  toning  and  fixing  bath  for  prints 
made  on  this  paper:  Water,  10  ounces;  hyposulphite 
of  soda,  2  ounces;  sulphocyanide  of  ammonium,^' 
ounce;  acetate  of  lead,  30  grains;  nitrate  of  lead,  SO 
grains;  chloride  of  gold  (neutral),  1  grain. 

This  bath  must  be  made  up  twenty-four  hours  be- 
fore using,  that  it  may  clear  and  settle.  In  prepar- 
ing, add  the  ingredients  in  the  order  named,  dissolv- 
ing each  before  adding  another.  Put  the  prints,  with- 
out washing,  in  this  bath,  one  at  a  time,  taking  care 
that  no  air  bubbles  form  on  the  print,  as  they  will  leave 
spots  on  the  finished  prints.  The  prints  will  turn  at 
first  a  yellowish-brown,  then  to  a  warm  red,  and  finally 
to  a  rich  brown.  Remove  from  the  bath  as  soon  as 
the  desired  tone  is  obtained.  Wash  for  one  hour  in 
running  water.  This  bath  keeps  well,  and  by  multi- 
plying each  ingredient  by  four  oue  can  make  four 
times  the  quantity. 


IVORY  SOAP 


IT  FLOATS 


You  have  noticed  the  disagreeable  odor  of  clothes  just  from  the 
wash.  That's  the  soap.  Cheap  soaps  do  not  rinse  out.  Ivory  Soap 
rinses  readily,  leaving  the  clothes  sweet,  clean  and  whfte. 


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<Rv?S^4{35JE»V-A/..>':te  r'*,.:.m-  "'•<"" 

•*^$j$iiK2--;'- 


Though  well  lie  rides  and  does  the  trick, 
The  bull-dug's  puce  lie  finds  too  quick; 


On  yonder  limb  he'll  get  a  hold, 
And  leave  the  bull-dog  in  the  cold. 


He  swings  himself  high  in  the  nir. 
And  takes  his  bicycle  up  there ; 


Then  with  his  pump  he'll  downward  slip, 
And  let  the  bull-dog  get  a  grip. 


The  bull-dog  never  will  let  go, 
Though  lie's  pumped  full  o£  air,  and  so 


When  he's  ns  full  ns  he  can  be, 
The  next  thing  happens  as  you  see. 


THE    TRICK    BICYCLE-EIDER    AND    THE   OBSTINATE    BULL-DOG. 


HELPFUL  HINTS  FOR  BICYCLISTS. 

1.  A  GOOD  bicyclist  is  careful  of  his  roads,  therefore  when 
taking  a  header  l>e  careful  not  to  bit  the  road  too  hard 
•with  your  forehead.     You  might  make  a  dent  in  tin-  pa\e- 
meut. 

2.  In  falling  off  your  wheel  do  not  fall  on  both  sides  at 
once.     Failure  to  observe  this  rule  will  result  in  dividing 
you  against  yourself. 

3.  Always  be  courteous.     If  a  trolley-car  has  the  right 
of  way  over  the  track  do  not  dispute  with  it.     A  buy  in 
Massachusetts  who  broke  this  rule  broke  his  right  arm  and 
his  cyclometer  at  the  same  time. 

4.  Be  cautious.     In  riding  from  New  York  to  Brooklyn 
keep  to  the  driveway.     Don't  try  to  wheel  over  the  sus- 
pension-cable.    You  might  slip  and  fall  into  the  smoke- 
stack of  a  passing  ferry-boat. 

5.  Keep  your  lamp  lit  when  riding  at  night..     The  hoy 
•who  thought  he  was  safr  because  In-  had  a  parlor-match  iu 
liis  pocket  came  home  with  a  spoke  in  his  wheel  that  didu't 

belong  tlliTC. 

6.  Do  not  be  rough  with  ice-carts  and  furniture  trucks. 

If  yon  must  run  hit of  tliriu  do  it   as  gently  and  ten- 

il-Tlv  as  i t' i t   \\<Tr  :i  baby-ea ri  ia ee. 

7.  A  mi-ri'ifiil   rider   is  merciful  to  his  wheel,  so  do  not 
force  a  bic.vle  be\ond   the   point   of  its  endurance,  unless 
von  want  to  walk  haek  with  your  wheel  on  your  shoulders. 

8.  Keep  cool.     If  in  t  he  course  of  a  ride  you  find  yourself 
in  a  tight  place,  with  a  skittish  horse  to  the  left  and  a  steep 
ia\  me  to  t  lie  right,  and  a  bull-dog  directly  to  the  fore,  take 
ravine.     You'll  go  into  it.  anyhow,  and  if  you  take  it  alone 
•without  dragging  the   .log  or  the  horse  after  yon  your 
•chances  will  he  impro\ed. 


0.  Never  use  spurs  on  the  pneumatic  tires  of  your  wheel. 
The  use  of  spurs  in  this  manner  is  likely  to  leave  your  bi- 
cycle iu  a  winded  condition.  Spurs  are  not  comfortable, 
either,  in  case  of  a  throw. 

10.  Do  not  be  stubborn  -with  a  balky  wheel.  If  the  front 
•wheel  gets  in  a  rut  going  east,  and  the  hind  wheel  in  an- 
other going  west,  dismount  and  argue  the  matter  standing, 
unless  you  are  tired, and  want  to  lie  down  by  the  road-side 
without  making  the  effort  to  do  so  unassisted. 

• 

CHANGED  HIS   MIND. 
I  DIDN'T  like  to  take  my  bath, 

Until  one  summer  morning  bright 
I  made  believe  I  was  a  whale, 
And  now  I  think  it's  out  o'  sight. 


A  FACETIOUS  VISITOR. 

"SEE  yat'ittle  hoy  over  zare?"  said  Mabel.     ' 
'ittle  buzzer,  an'  his  name  is  Nat." 

''Indeed?"  said  the   visitor.     "Well,  I   think 
very  good  name  for  a  buzzer." 


Yat's  my 


;uat  is  a 


A  SINGULAR  DRESS. 

"Mv  big  brother  belongs  to  the  Seventh  Regiment,"  said 
little  Nell,  proudly,  "  an',  my,  how  noble  he  looks  when  he's 
all  dressed  up  in  his  unicorn!" 

A  LOST  TUNE. 
I'VE  heard  a  German  band  play  tunes, 

I've  heard  'most  every  other  thing; 
But  one  tune  I  have  never  heard, 

Is  that  which  boiling  kettles  sing. 


616 


HARPERS 


ROUND  TABLE 


Copyright,  1895,  by  HAEPKB  &  BBOTHKES.     All  Rights  R« 


PUBLISHED     WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI. — NO.  816. 


NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY,  JUNE  18,  1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY 
TWO    DOLLARS    A    YEAR. 


SNOW-SHOES    AND    SLEDGES. 


BY     KIRK     M  U  N  R  O  E. 


CHAPTER     XXXI. 


NEL-TE   QUALIFIES   AS   A   BltANCH   PILOT. 

A  LTHOUGH  disappointed  of  their  guide  there  was  110- 
J\_  thing  for  the  sledge  party  to  do  hut  push  on  aud  trust 
to  their  own  good  judgment  to  carry  them  safely  to  the 
end  of  their  journey.  So  as  much  of  the  moose  meat  as 
could  he  loaded  on  a  sledge,  or  several  hundred  pounds  iu 
all,  was  prepared  and  frozen  that  evening.  Both  then  and 
in  the  morning  the  dogs  were  given  all  they  could  eat — so 
much,  in  fact,  that  they  were  greatly  disinclined  to  travel 
•during  most  of  the  following  day. 

The   latest   addition   to   the   party,  after   being   rudely 


awakened  from  the  slumber  into  which  Jalap  Coombs's 
singing  had  lulled  him,  called  pitifully  for  his  mother,  and, 
refusing  to  he  comforted,  finally  sobbed  himself  to  sleep  on 
Phil's  bear-skin  iu  front  of  the  five.  Here  he  spent  the 
night,  tucked  warmly  iu  a  rabbit-skin  robe,  nestled  be- 
tween Phil  and  Serge  with  all  his  sorrows  forgotten  for  the 
time  being.  In  the  early  morning  he  was  a  very  sober 
little  lad,  with  a  grievance  that  was  not  to  be  banished 
even  by  the  sight  of  his  beloved  "doggies,"  while  the  ad- 
vances of  his  human  friends  were  treated  with  a  dignified 
silence.  He  was  too  hungry  to  refuse  the  food  offered  him 
by  Srrgr :  but  he  ate  it  with  a  strictly  businesslike  air,  iu 
which  there  was  nothing  of  unbending  nor  forgiveness. 


HAEPER'S  BOUND  TABLE 


'l'«  Phil's  atiempts  at  conversation  be  tnrued  a  (leaf  ear, 
nor  would  lie  even  so  mud)  as  smile  when  Jalap  Coombs 
made  lares  at  liiin.  or  got  down  on  hands  and  knees  and 
growled  Cor  lii.s  special  benefit.  He  was  evidently  not  to 
lie  \von  li\  aii\  siirli  foolishness. 

Mr  was  roused  to  an  exhibition  of  slight  interest  by  the 
tinkling  ninsic  of  Husky's  bells  when  the  dogs  wen-  liar- 
nrssi-il  :  anil  when  even  thing  being  ready  Cor  a  start,  1  'liil 
lift i-d  liiui  on  tlie  foremost  sledge,  and  tucked  him  into  a 
spare  sleeping-bag  that  was  securely  lashed  to  it,  hu  mur- 
mured :  "  Mamma,  Nel-le  go  mamma." 

The  loads  ha\  ing  been  rcdi.xt ri but ed  to  provide  for  1  he 

aei-oniinodati 'I'  I  he  yon ug  passenger,  lliis  foremost  sledge 

bore  besides  Nel-te  onl\  the  l-'i irty-Mile  mail,  the  sleeping 
e(|iii|nnent  of  the  ]iarty,  and  their  extra  Cnr  clothing,  t  he 
1 -A  // » /A-,  i  n  which  Has  stored  the  small  quantity,  of  tea  still 
remaining,  what  was  left  <>C  the  pemmican,  and  an  axe.  As 
with  its  load  it  did  not  weigh  over  two  hundred  pounds,  its 
team  was  reduced  to  three  dogs,  Musky,  Luvtuk,  and  big 
Auiook.  Serge  still  drove  seven  dugs,  and  his  sledge  bore 
the  entire  camp  equipment  and  stock  of  provisions,  cx- 
cepl  the  recently  aei|iiired  mon.se  meat.  This  was  loaded 
on  the  last  sledge,  which  was  drawn  by  five  dogs,  and 
driven,  by  Jalap  Coombs  according  to  his  own  peculiar 
fashion. 

As  soon  as  the  sledges  were  in  motion,  and  Xel-te  con- 
cei\  ed  the  idea  that  he  was  going  home  his  spirits  n-\  i  \  cd 
to  such  an  extent  that  he  chirruped  cheerfully  to  the  dogs, 
and  even  smiled  occasionally  at  Phil,  who  sirode  alongside. 

Tliey  crossed  l-'ox  Lake,  passed  up  the  stream  that  con- 
nected  it  wilh  Indian  Trail  Lake,  and  dually  went  into 
camp  on  the  edge'  of  the  forest  at  the  head  of  the  latter 
earlier  than  usual,  beean-e  they  could  not  see  their  way  to 
the  making  of  any  further  progress.  Although  they  Cell 
certain  that  tin-re  must  be  some  stream  flowing  into  the 
lake  by  wlTich  they  could  leave  it,  they  could  discover  uo 
sign  of  its  opening.  So  they  made  camp,  and  leaving  Jalap 
Coomb.,  to  can-  Cor  it  Phil  and  Serge  departed  in  opposite 
direct  ions  to  scan  every  foot  of  the  shore  ill  search  of  a 
place  of  exit. 

On  reaching;  this  camping-place  Nel-te  looked  about  him 
inquiringly,  and  with  evident  disappointment,  but  he  said 
nothing,  and  only  gazed  wistfully  after  the  two  lads  when 
they  set  forth  on  their  search.  For  a  time  he  hung  aboni 
the  camp-tire  watching  Jalap  Coombs,  who  was  too  busily 
engaged  in  eunking  supper  and  piepariug  for  the  night  to 
pay  much  attention  to  him.  At  length  the  litlle  eliap 
strolled  over  to  tin-  sledges,  and  engaged  in  a  romp  with 
the  three  dogs  who  dragged  his  particular  conveyance. 
Every  now  and  then  his  shrill  laughter  came  to  Jalap's 
ears,  and  assuieil  the  la  her  that  the  child  w  as  safe. 

After  a  while  the  explorers  returned,  both  completely  dis- 
couraged and  perplexed. 

"  I  don't  believe  there  is  any  inlet  to  this  wretched  lake!" 
cried  Phil,  Hinging  himself  down  on  a  pile  of  robes.  "I've 
searched  every  foot  of  coast  on  my  side,  and  am  willing  to 
swear  that  thc-re  isn't  an  opening  big  enough  for  a  rabbit 
to  squee/c  through,  so  Car  as  I  \\  cut." 

"Norconhl  1  liml  a  sign  oC  one,"  aClirmed  Serge,  "  though 
perhaps  in  the  morning  — 

"Hello!  Where's  Xel-te?"  interrupted  Phil,  springing 
to  his  feet  and  ga/ing  about  him  anxiously. 

"He  were  about  here  just  as  you  boys  kim  in,"  replied 
Jalap  Coombs,  suspending  ope  rat  ions  at  the  lire,  and  ga/ing 
about  him  with  a  startled  expression.  ''I  heered  him  play- 
ing with  the  dogs  not  more'n  a  minute  ago." 

"Well. lie  isn't  in  sight  now  ."  said  Phil,  iu  a  voice  whose 
tone  betrayed  his  alarm,  "ami  if  we  don't,  find  him  in  a 
hurry  there's  a  chance  of  our  not  doing  it  at  all,  for  it  will 
be  dark  iu  lifteeu  minutes  more." 

As  he  spoke,  Phil  hastily  replaced  the  snow-shoes  that 
he  had  just  laid  aside.  Serge  did  the  same  thing,  and  then 
ih.  \  began  to  circle  about  the  camp  with  heads  bent  low 
in  search  of  the  tiny  trail.  At  short  intervals  they  called 
aloud  the  name  of  the  missing  oue,  but  ouly  the  mocking 
forest  echoes  answered  them. 

Suddenly  Serge  uttered  a  joyful  shout.  He  had  found 
the  prints  of  small  snow-shoes  crossed  and  recrossed  by 


those  of  dogs.  Iu  a  moment  Phil  joined  him,  and  the  two 
followed  the  trail  together.  It  led  Cor  a  short  distance 
along  the  border  of  the  lake  in  the  direction  previously 
taken  by  Phil,  and  then  making  a  sharp  bend  to  the  right 
si  nick  directly  into  the  forest. 

When  the  boys  reached  the  edge  of  the  timber  they  found 
a  low  opening  so  overhung  by  bushes  as  to  be  effectually 
concealed  from  careless  observation.  The  curtaining 
grow  ih  was  so  bent  down  with  a  weight  of  suow  that  even 
Nel-tc  must  have  stooped  to  pass  under  it.  That  lie  had 

g that  way  was  shown  by  the  trail  dimly  visible  iu  the 

growing  dusk,  and  the  lads  did  not  hesitate  to  follow. 
Forcing  a  path  through  the  bushes,  which  extended  only  a 
few  yards  back  from  the  lake,  they  found  themselves  in  au 
open  highway,  evidently  the  frozen  surface  of  a  stream. 

'•Hurrah!"  shouted  Phil,  who  was  the  first  to  gain  it. 
'•I  believe  this  is  the  very  creek  we  have  been  searching 
for.  It  must  be,  and  the  little  chap  has  found  it  for  us." 

"Yes," replied  Serge.  "It  begins  to  look  as  though  Cree 
Jim's  sou  had  taken  Cree  Jim's  place  as  guide." 

Now  the  boys  pushed  forward  with  increased  speed.  At 
length  they  heard  the  barking  of  dogs,  and  began  to  shout, 
but  received  uo  answer.  They  had  gone  a  full  quarter  of 
a  mile  from  the  lake  ere  they  caught  sight  of  the  little  fur- 
clad  figure  plodding  steadily  forward  on  what  he  fondly 
hoped  to  be  his  way  toward  home'  and  the  mother  for  whom 
his  baby  heart  so  longed.  Jlusky,  Luvtnk,  and  big  Auiook 
were  his  companions,  and  not  until  he  was  caught  up  iu 
Phil's  arms  did  the  child  so  much  as  turn  his  head,  or  pay 
the  slightest  heed  to  those  w  ho  followed  his  trail. 

As  he  was  borne  back  in  triumph  toward  camp  his  lower 
lip  quivered,  and  two  big  tears  rolled  down  his  chubby 
cheeks,  but  he  did  not  cry  nor  utter  a  complaint  ;  nor  from 
that  time  on  did  he  make  further  effort  to  regain  his  lost 
home.  The  bo\s  had  hardly  begun  to  retrace  their  steps 
when  another  figure  loomed  out  of  the  shadows,  and  came 
rapidly  toward  them.  It  looked  huge  in  the  dim  light,  and 
advanced  with  gigantic  strides. 

"Hello!"  cried  Phil,  as  he  recognized  the  new-comer. 
"Where  are  yon  bound  ?" 

"Bound  to  get  lost  along  with  the  rest  of  the  crew,"  re- 
plied Jalap  Coombs,  stoutly.  "Didn't  1  tell  \e  I  wouldn't 
put  up  with  your  gettiu'  lost  alone  ag'iu?" 

••  'Chat's  so  :  but,  you  see, I  forgot," laughed  Phil.  "Now 
that  we  are  all  found,  though,  let's  get  back  to  the  snppt-r 
you  were  cooking  before  yon  decided  to  get  lost.  By-the- 
way,  Mr.  Coombs,  do  yon  realize  that  this  is  the  very  stream 
for  which  we  have  been  hunting?  What  do  you  think  of 
our  young  pilot  now  ?" 

"Think  of  him!"  exclaimed  Jalap  Coombs.  "I  thiuk 
he's  ju*  the  same  as  all  in  the  piloting  business.  Per- 
nicketty — kuows  a  heap  more'n  he'll  ever  tell,  and  won't 
everp'int  out  a  channel  till  yon 're  just  about  to  run  aground. 
Then  he'll  do  it  kinder  careless  and  oneonsarned,  same  as 
the  kid  doue  jest  now.  Oh,  lie's  a  regular  branch  pilot,  he 
is,  and  up  to  all  the  tricks  of  the  trade." 

Bright,  aud  early  the  following  niorni ng.  thanks  to  Nel-te's 
pilotage,  the  sledges  were  speeding  up  the  creek  on  their 
way  to  Lost  Lake.  By  nightfall  they  had  crossed  it,  three 
other  small  lakes,  descended  an  outlet  of  the  last  to  Little 
Salmon  River,  and  after  a  run  of  live  miles  down  that 
stream  found  themselves  once  more  amid  the  ice  hummocks 
of  the  Yukon,  one  hundred  aud  twenty  miles  above  the 
month  of  thePelly.  Of  this  distance  they  had  saved  about 
one-third  by  their  adventurous  cut-off.  The  end  of  another 
week  found  them  oue  hundred  and  fifty  miles  further  np 
•the  Yukou  and  at  the  mouth  of  the  Tahkeena.  It  had  been 
a  week  of  the  roughest  kind  of  travel,  aud  its  hard  work 
was  telling  severely  on  the  dogs. 

As  they  made  their  last  camp  on  the  mighty  river  they 
were  to  leave  for  good  on  the  morrow  they  were  both  glad 
and  sorry.  Glad  to  leave  its  rough  ice  and  escape  the  sav- 
age difficulties  that  it  offered  iu  the  shape  of  canons  and 
roaring  rapids  only  a  few  miles  above,  aud  sorry  to  desert 
its  well-mapped  course  for  the  little-known  Tahkeena. 

Still  their  dogs  could  not  hold  out  for  another  week  on  the 
Yukon,  while  over  the  smooth  going  of  the  tributary  stream 
1  h.-\  might  survive  the  hardships  of  the  journey  to*  its  very 

618 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


end:  anil  without  these  faithful  servants  our  travellers 
would  indeed  lie  in  a  sorry  plight.  So  while  they  remi- 
nisced before  their  roaring  camp-tire  of  the  uiauy  adven- 
tures they  had  encountered  since  entering  Yukon  nioutli, 
two  thousand  miles  away,  they  looked  hopefully  forward 
to  their  journey's  end,  no\v  less  than  as  many  hundred  miles 
from  that  point.  To  the  dangers  of  the  lofty  monntain- 
range  thev  had  \et  to  cross  they  gave  but  little  thought, 
for  the  mountains  were  still  one  hundred  miles  away. 

C  II  A  P  T  E  R     XXXII. 
THE   FUlt-SEAL's    TOOTH   CltEATKS   A   SENSATION. 

ONE  evening  late  in  March  the  smoke  of  a  lonely  camp- 
fire  curled  above  a  fringe  of  stunted  spruces  forming  the 
timber  line,  high  up  on  the  northern  slope  of  the  Alaskan 
coast  range.  Kotusk,  the  natives  call  these  mountains. 
Far  below  lay  the  spotless  sheet  of  Talik  Lake,  from  which 
the  Tahkeena  winds  for  one  hundred  miles  down  its  rugged 
valley  to  swell  the  Yukon  flood.  From  the  foot  of  the 
mountains  the  unbroken  solitude  of  tin.-  vast  northern  wil- 
derness swept  away  in  ice-bound  silence  to  the  polar  sea. 
Far  to  the  westward  St.  Elias  ami  Wraugel,  the  great  north- 
ern sentinels  of  the  Rocky  Mount. lin  system,  reared  their 
massive  heads  twenty  thousand  feet  above  the  Pacific. 
From  them  the  mighty  range  of  snow-clad  peaks  follows 
the  coast  line  eastward,  gathering,  with  icy  fingers,  the 
mist  clouds  ever  rising  from  the  warm  ocean  waters,  con- 
verting them  with  frigid  breath  into  the  grandest  glaciers 
of  the  continent,  aud  sending  them  slowly  grinding  their 
resistless  way  back  to  the  sea. 

On  one  .side  of  this  stupendous  barrier  our  sledge  party 
from  the  Yukon  was  now  halted.  On  the  other  side  lay  the 
frontier  of  civ  ilization,  safety,  and  their  journey's  end.  Be- 
tween the  two  points  rose  the  mountains,  calmly  contemp- 
tuous of  human  efforts  to  penetrate  their  secrets  of  ava- 
lanche ami  glacier,  icy  precipice  aud  snow -tilled  gorge, 
fierce  buzzard  anil  ice-laden  whirlwind,  desolation  and 
deal  h.  It  is  no  wonder  that,  face  to  face  with  such  things, 
the  little  group,  gathered  about  the  last  camp-tire  they 
might  see  for  days  or  perhaps  forever,  should  be  uuustially 
quiet  and  thoughtful. 

Still  clad  in  their  well-worn  garments  of  fur  they  were 
engaged  in  characteristic  occupations.  Phil,  looking  anx- 
inns  and  careworn,  was  standing  close  to  the  lire,  warming 
aud  cleaning  his  rifle.  Serge  was  making  a  stew  of  the 
last  of  their  moose  meat,  which  would  afterwards  be  frozen 
and  taken  with  them  into  nntimbered  regions  where  camp- 
fires  would  be  unknown.  Jalap  Coombs  was  thoughtfully 
mending  a  broken  snow-shoe,  and  at  the  same  time  finding 
bis  task  sadly  interrupted  by  Nel-te,  who,  nestled  between 
his  knees,  was  trying  to  attract  the  sailormau's  undivided 
attention. 

The  little  chap,  with  his  great  sorrow  forgotten,  was  now 
the  life  and  pet  of  the  party.  So  firmly  was  his  place  es- 
tablished among  them  that  they  wondered  how  they  had 
ever  borne  the  loneliness  of  a  camp  without  his  cheery 
presence,  and  could  hardly  realize  that  he  had  only  recent- 
ly come  into  their  lives.  Now.  too.  half  the  anxiety  with 
which  they  regarded  the  perilous  way  before  them  was  on 
his  account. 

"I'm  worrying  most  about  the  dogs, "said  Phil,  continu- 
ing a  conversation  begun  some,  time  before,  "and  lam 
afraid  Mime  of  them  will  give  out  before  we  reach  the  sum- 
mit." 

"  Yes,"  agreed  Serge  ;  '•  to-day's  pull  tip  from  the  lake  has 
told  terribly  on  them,  and  Amook's  feet  have  been  badly 
cut  by  the  crust  ever  since  he  ate  his  boots." 

"Poor  old  dog!" said  Phil.  "It  was  awfully  careless  of 
me  to  forget  and  leave  them  on  him  all  night.  I  don't 
wonder  a  bit  at  his  eating  them,  though,  considering  the 
short  rations  he's  been  fed  on  lately." 

The  dogs  were  indeed  having  a  hard  time.  Worn  by 
months  of  sledge-pulling  over  weary  leagues  of  snow  aud 
ice,  their  trials  only  increased  as  the  tedious  journey  pro- 
gressed. The  days  were  now  so  long  that  each  offered  a 
full  twelve  hours  of  sunlight,  while  the  snow  was  so  soft- 
ened by  the  growing  warrnih  that  in  the  middle  of  the  day 


it  seriously  clogged  both  snow-shoes  and  sledges.  Then  a 
crust  would  form,  through  which  the  poor  dogs  would 
break  for  an  hour  or  more,  until  it  stiffened  sufficiently  to 
bear  tln-ir  weight.  Added  to  these  tribulations  was  such 
a  scarcity  of  food  that  half-rations  had  become  the  rule 
lui  everj  one.  men  as  well  as  dogs,  excepting  Nel-te,  who 
had  not  \et  been  allowed  to  suffer  on  that  account.  Of 
the  many  dogs  that  had  been  connected  with  the  expedi- 
tion at  different  times  only  nine  were  now  left,  aud  some 
of  these  would  evidently  not  go  much  further. 

As  the  boys  talked  of  the  condition  of  their  trust}'  ser- 
vants, aud  exchanged  anxious  forebodings  concerning  the 
crossing  of  the  mountains,  their  attention  was  attracted  by 
an  exclamation  from  Jalap  Coombs,  \el-te  had  been  s.> 
insistent  in  demanding  his  attention  that  the  sailorman 
was  finally  obliged  to  lay  aside  his  work  aud  lift  the  child 
to  his  knees  saying, 

"  \\'aal,  Cap'n  Kid,  what's  the  orders  now,  sir?" 

"C'ap'n  Kid  "  was  the  name  he  had  given  to  the  little 
fellow  on  the  occasion  of  the  hitter's  debut  as  pilot;  for,  as 
he  said, '•  Kvery  branch  pilot  answers  to  the  hail  of  C'ap'n, 
aud  this  one  being  a  kid  becomes  'Cap'u  Kid  '  by  rights." 

For  answer  to  his  question  the  child  held  out  a  small 
fur -booted  foot,  aud  intimated  that  the  boot  should  be 
pulled  oft'. 

"  Bad  foot,  hurt  Nel-te,"  he  said. 

"So!  something  gone  wrong  with  your  running  rigging, 
eh  1"  queried  Jalap  Coombs,  as  he  pulled  of}' the  offending 
boot.  Before  he  could  investigate  it  the  little  chap  reached 
forward,  and,  thrusting  a  chubby  hand  down  to  its  very 
toe,  drew  forth  in  triumph  the  object  that  had  been  annoy- 
ing him.  As  he  made  a  motion  to  fling  it  out  into  the 
snow.  Jalap  C'oombs,oiit.  of  curiosity  to  see  what  had  wor- 
ried the  child,  caught  his  hand.  The  next  moment  he  ut- 
tered the  half-terrified  exclamation  that  attracted  the  at- 
tention of  Phil  aud  Serge. 

As  they  looked  they  saw  him  holding  to  the  firelight  be- 
tween thumb  aud  linger,  and  beyond  reach  of  Nel-te,  who 
was  striving  to  regain  it,  an  object  so  strange  and  yet  so 
familiar  that  for  a  moment  they  regarded  it  in  speechless 
amazement. 

"  The  fur-seal's  tooth !"  cried  Phil.     "  How  can  it  be  ?" 

"It  can't  be  our  fur -seal's  tooth,"  objected  Serge,  in  a 
tone  of  mingled  incredulity  and  awe.  "There  must  be 
sev  cral  of  them." 

"I  should  think  so  myself."  replied  Phil,  who  had  taken 
the  object  in  question  from  Jalap  Coombs  for  a  closer 
examination,  "if  it  were  not  for  a  private  mark  that  I 
snatched  on  it  when  it  was  in  our  possession  at  St.  Michaels. 
See,  here  it  is,  and  so  the  identity  of  the  tooth  is  established 
beyond  a  doubt.  But  how  it  ever  got  here  I  can't  conceive. 
There  is  actually  something  supernatural  about  the  whole 
thing.  Where,  did  you  say  you  found  it,  Mr.  Coombs  ?" 

"In  Cap'u  Kid's  boot,"  replied  the  mate,  who  had  just 
restored  that  article  to  the  child's  foot.  "But  blow  me  for 
a  porpus  ef  I  kin  understand  how  ever  it  got  there.  Last 
time  I  seen  it 'twas  back  to  Forty  Mile." 

"Yes, "said  Serge,  "Judge  Riley  had  it." 

"  I  remember  seeing  him  put  it  into  a  vest  pocket,"  added 
Phil,  "and  meant  to  ask  him  for  it,  but  forgot  to  do  so. 
Now  to  have  it  appear  from  the  boot  of  that  child,  who  has 
never  been  to  Forty  Mile,  or  certainly  not  since  we  left 
there,  is  simply  miraculous.  It  beats  any  trick  of  spiritu- 
alism or  conspiring  I  ever  heard  of.  The  mystery  of  the 
tooth's  appearing  at  St.  Michaels  after  my  father  lost  it, 
only  a  short  time  before  at  Ooualaska,  was  strange  enough ; 
but  that  was  nothing  to  this." 

"There  must  be  magic  in  it,"  said  Serge,  who  from  early 
associations  was  inclined  to  he  superstitious.  "I  don't  care, 
though,  if  there  is,"  he  added,  stoutly.  "  I  believe  the  tooth 
has  come  to  us  at  this  time  of  our  despondency  as  an  omen 
of  good  fortune,  and  now  I  feel  certain  that  we  shall  pull 
through  all  right.  You  remember,  Phil,  the  saying  that 
goes  with  it:  'He  who  receives  it  as  a  gift  receives  good 
luck.'" 

••  Who  has  received  it  as  a  gift  this  time  ?"  inquired  the 
Yankee  lad. 

"We  all  have,  though  it  seems  to  have  been  especially 


619 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


sent  to  Xel-te,  and  yon  know  he  is  the  one  we  were  most 
anxious  about." 

"  That's  so,"  assented  Phil,  "  and  from  this  time  on  Nel-te 
shall  wear  it  as  a  charm,  though  I  suppose  it  won't  stay 
with  him  any  longer  than  suits  its  convenience.  I  never 
had  a  superstition  in  my  lift',  and  haven't  believed  in  such 
tilings,  but  I  must  confess  that  my  unbelief  is  shaken  by 
tliis  art  air.  Their  isn't  any  possible  way,  that  I  can  sec, 
for  this  tooth  to  have  got  ben-  except  by  magic." 

"ll  beats  the  Flyiiin  Uiilchiuiiii  ami  M< -i •riiiiniiil.t,"  said 
Jalap  Coombs,  solemnly,  as  he  lighted  his  pipe  for  a  ipiict- 
iug  smoke.  "D"  ye  know,  lads,  I'm  coining  to  think  as  how 
ii  were  all  on  account  of  this  'ere  curio  being  aboard  the 
steamer  jVorst  that  she  stopped  and  picked  you  up  in 
Bering  Sea  that  night.1' 

"Noiisru.se!"  cried  I'liil.      "That  is  impossible!" 

Thus  purely  tlr.ough  ignorance  tliislad,  who  was  usually 
so  sensible  and  level-headed,  declared  with  one  breath  Ids 
belief  in  an  impossibility,  and  with  the  next  his  disbelief 
of  a  fact.  All  of  which  serves  to  illustrate  the  folly  of  mak- 
ing assertions  concerning  subjects  about  which  we  are 
ignorant.  There  is  nothing  so  mysterious  that  it  cannot 
be  explained,  and  nothing  more  foolish  than  to  declare  a 
thing  impossible  simply  because  \ve  are  too  ignorant  to 
understand  it. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


BOB,  AND    BIMBER,  AND    THE   BEAK. 

BOB  TORRE Y  was  cantering  slowly  over  the  mesa,  re- 
turning from  an-  errand  to  a  neighboring  cattle 
ranch,  when  he  caught  sightof  ahawk's  nest  in  the  top  of  a 
large  cedar,  and  determined  to  learn  whether  it  contained 
any  eggs.  So  he  rode  up  to  the  tree  and  dismounted,  the 
pony  understanding  by  the  dropped  bridle-rein  that  he  was 
not  to  stray  away.  His  dog  Bimber  at  once  began  a  dili- 
gent investigation  of  the  premises  of  a  badger,  the  front 
door  of  whose  burrow  opened  between  two  large  roots. 

Bob  had  just  reached  the  nest,  after  some  hard  scram- 
bling, and  was  intent  upon  its  four  brown-splotched  eggs, 
when  he  heard  Bimber  begin  barking  furiously. 

"Guess  he's  found  somebody  at  home.  Teach  him  to 
keep  out  of  other  people's  houses,"  Bob  said  to  himself, 
gleefully,  but  was  too  busy  to  look  down.  The  racket  con- 
tinued, and  seemed  to  go  away  and  come  back.  Lowering 
liis  head  below  the  nest  to  ascertain  what  was  going  on, 
the  boy  forgot  those  eggs  instantly,  for  he  saw  a  gri/.zly 
bear  loping  over  the  ground  in  close  pursuit  of  that  fool  of  a 
dog,  who  was  ki-yi-iiig  and  doing  his  best  to  reach  the  tree, 
while  Bob's  pony,  head  and  tail  up,  was  making  a  record 
for  speed  in  the  opposite  direction. 

The  bear  seemed  as  big  as  an  elephant,  and  was  growling 
savagely.  "  Oh,"  he  thought,  "  if  I  were  only  a  haw  k,  like 
that  one  soaring  overhead;  or  a  horse,  like  that  one  tearing 
across  the  prairie ;  or  even  a  dog,  like  Bimber,  who — "  But 
where  irnx  Himherf  He  had  disappeared.  Had  the  bear 
eaten  him  up?  No;  the  boy  must  have  seen  the  capture 
if  that  had  happened. 

Then  a  horrible  thought  came  and  nearly  chilled  his 
bones.  Could  a  grizzly  bear  climb  a  tree  ? 

Suddenly  the  barking  was  heard  once  more,  hut  in  a  queer, 
muffled  tone,  as  if  the  dog  were  far  away,  yet  no  glimpse 
nf  his  while  coat  could  be  caught  anywhere,  though  Bob's 
eyes  searched  on  all  sides.  Next  the  barking  would  ring 
.'Ul  sharp  and  clear  close  by,  and  the  hear  would  give  a 
new  roar,  hut  nothing  be  visible.  It  was  most  puzzling. 

"Where  in  the  mischief  is  Bimber?" the  prisoner  kept 
asking  himself,  until  he  almost  forgot  his  own  peril. 

Then  the  terrier  suddenly  appeared,  facing  his  big  enemy. 
and  scolding  the  best  he  knew  how.  The  grizzly  whirled 
round  and  made  a  dash,  but  the  dog  was  t  \\  ice  as  agile,  and 
in  an  instant  was  safe  in  that  burrow  between  the  roots. 
•  The  hear  tried  to  reach  in,  first  one  paw  and  then  aii- 
other,  and  so  drag  its  small  enemy  out,  but  such  tactics 
were  of  no  avail.  The  dog  simply  retreated  until  Bob 
could  scarcely  hear  its  voice,  and  never  once  ventured 
within  reach  of  those  formidable  claws. 


"Maybe  I  can  frighten  the  beast,"  thought  Bob,  as  he 
drew  his  small  double-barrelled  pistol  from  his  belt  and 
fired. 

The  bear  gave  a  roar  as  the  little  bullet  stung  his  shoul- 
der, and,  dropping  the  shot-gun,  came  rushing  back  to  the 
tree,  where  it  reared  up  savagely,  only  to  receive  the  con- 
tents of  the  other  barrel,  making  a  scalp  wound,  which 
brought  out  another  terrific  growl,  while  Bimber  was  able 
to  take  a  nip  at  a  hind  leg  and  escape. 

This  last  hit  of  impudence  was  too  much.  Bruin  was 
thoroughly  enraged.  He  tore  at  the  mouth  of  the  burrow 
as  though  he  meant  to  dig  it  out  in  three  minutes,  but  the 
tough  roots  were  in  the  way,  and  before  long  he  gave  up 
the  task,  and,  as  if  decided  upon  a  siege,  lay  dowu  squarely 
across  the  hole  and  began  rubbing  his  sore  head. 

For  au  hour  or  more  the  boy  sat  there,  when  suddenly 
an  idea  occurred  to  him. 

His  powder-flask  still  hung  around  his  neck.  Unscrew- 
ing its  cap,  he  poured  into  his  left  hand  as  much  gunpowder 
as  it  could  conveniently  hold,  and  replaced  the  cap.  Keach- 
ing  up  to  the  nest,  he  lifted  out  one  of  the  hawk's  eggs, 
broke  it  gently,  and  let  a  little  quantity  of  the  sticky 
"white"  run  into  the  powder  in  his  palm.  This  done,  he 
mixed  the  two  together,  adding  more  of  one  or  the  other  as 
needed,  until  he  had  formed  a  paste  that  suited  him.  This 
paste  he  shaped  into  a  roll  or  cord  around  a  ravelling  from 
liis  coat  lining,  which  served  as  a  sort  of  wick,  coiled  it 
closely,  and  laid  it  on  the  branch  beside  him.  This  was  a 
"  spitting  devil,"  such  as  he  had  often  used  to  make  Fourth- 
ot'-July  fun  with.  He  then  made  two  more. 

With  as  little  noise  as  possible  Bob  crept  down  to  the 
lowest  limb,  where  he  was  directly  over  the  huge  mass  of 
fur,  and  twisted  his  legs  round  the  limb  so  as  to  leave  both 
arms  free.  Holding  the  three  "devils"  in  one  hand,  he 
took  a  match  from  his  pocket  and  lighted  them  rapidly, 
then  dropped  the  blazing  things,  one  after  another,  upon 
the  dozing  beast  beneath  him. 

If  Bruin  noticed  them  at  all,  he  doubtless  supposed  some 
twigs  had  fallen  upon  his  back;  but  before  long  their 
tizzing  and  snapping  woke  him  up,  and  the  next  moment 
they  began  to  warm  him  well,  especially  one,  which  had 
caught  firmly  in  the  ruff  around  his  neck,  and  another 
among  the  long  hair  on  his  haunches.  He  rolled  over  and 
over,  but  this  only  ground  the  devils  deeper  into  the  fur, 
while  Bimber,  aroused  by  the  rumpus,  rushed  out  to  add 
his  clamor  to  the  commotion.  Suddenly  a  terrific  explo- 
sion rent  the  air.  and  nearly  knocked  Bob  off  his  perch 
with  surprise.  The  bear,  in  floundering  about,  had  sat 
down  upon  the  gun,  and,  entangling  the  hammers  in  his 
hair,  had  discharged  it;  but  as  the  barrels  were  bent,  of 
course  the  gun  had  burst. 

That  was  the  finishing  touch.  Singed,  stung,  and  panic- 
stricken  by  the  powder  on  his  hack  and  the  explosion  in 
his  rear,  the  grizzly  uttered  a  great  howl  and  galloped 
away  at  the  top  of  his  speed. 


KING  ARTHUR  AND    HIS   KNIGHTS. 

III. — ARTHUR    AND    THE    KNIGHTS. 

"  A  RTHUU  must  have  been  tickled  to  death,"  said  Jack, 
XjL  when  his  father  told  how  Sir  Ector  and  Kaye  knelt 
before  him  and  hailed  him  as  King.  "Wouldn't  it  be  fine, 
Mollie.  if  somebody  should  ring  our  front-door  bell  now. 
aud  come  in  and  prove  that  you  and  I  were  King  and 
Queen  of  somewhere,  aud  that  papa  was  bringing  us  up  for 
Queen  Victoria  or  Emperor  William,  for  instance?" 

"I  don't  think  so  at  all,"  said  Mollie.  "I  don't  want  to 
he  Queen,  aud  I  don't  think  you'd  make  a  good  King, 
either.  You  slide  do«  n  the  banisters  too  much  to  make  a 
very  royal  King.  Kings  don't  do  such  things." 

"I  guess  (hex  would  if  they  could,"  said  Jack.  "What's 
the  good  of  being  a  King  if  you  cau't  do  whatever  you 
wanted  to?" 

"  I'd   rather    be    a    President,  though,"   put    iu    Mollie. 

Kings  have  to  wear  .solid  gold  crowns  with  prongs  on 

'em  a^ll  the  time,  and  it  must  be  dreadfully  uncomfortable." 

"  Very  true,  my  dear,"  said   her   father.     "  A  crown,   is 


G-JO 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


about  the  most  uncomfortable  possession  a 
man  can  have,  and  Arthur,  I  fancy,  felt  very 
much  at  first  as  you  do.  He  felt  very  bad- 
ly indeed  when  he  learned  that  Sir  Ector 
was  not  bis  father,  and  that  Kaye  was  no- 
thing but  a  chum,  instead  of  a  brother,  as 
he  had  always  thought,  for  he  loved  them 
both  more  than  he  did  any  one  else  in 
the  world.  So  when  Sir  Ector  knelt  be- 
fore him  and  said,  'You  are  the  rightful 
King  of  England,'  Arthur  opened  his  eyes 
as  widely  as  he  could  and  started  hack  in 
amazement." 

"I  gness  he  thought  it  was  an  April- 
fool,"  laughed  Mollie. 

"At  h'rst  he  may  have  thought  that," 
said  the  Story-teller,  "but  when  he  re- 
membered that  great  Knights  like  Sir  Ec- 
tor wouldn't  play  jokes  of  that  kind  he 
didn't  think  it  any  more.  He  began  to 
grow  uneasy  and  unhappy,  for  instead  of 
throwing  his  cap  into  the  air  anil  crying 
hurrah,  as  Jack  would  do  if  he  were  elect- 
ed President  of  the  United  States  to-mor- 
row, he  gave  a  groan  and  an  exclamation 
of  dismay. 

"'Alas!'  he  cried;  'why  do  my  father 
and  brother  kneel  before  me?' 

" '  I  am  not  your  father,  nor  is  Kaye 
your  brother,'  replied  Sir  Ector. 

'"Then  who  am  I?'  cried  Arthur,  in 
great  distress. 

'"That  I  know  not,'  returned  Sir  Ector, 
'save  that  you  are  our  King.  You  were  • 
brought  to  me  by  Merlin  to  care  for  when 
you  were  an  infant,  and  from  that  day  to 
this  you  have  been  treated  as  my  son. 
Whose  child  you  are  I  do  not  know,  nor 
have  I  ever  known — nor  has  any  one 
known  except  Merlin."' 

"'Didn't  Sir  Ector  know  who  paid  his 
board  f '  asked  Jack.  "  Who'd  be  send  his 
bill  tot" 

The  Story-teller  smiled.  "  I  don't  be- 
lieve Sir  Ector  charged  anything  for  his 
services,"  he  said.  "He  was  a  true 
Knight,  and  was  willing  to  perform  a 
knightly  service  for  another  without  charging  anything 
for  it  or  asking  too  many  questions." 

''You  couldn't  get  anybody  to  do  that  nowadays,  I  im- 
agine," said  Mollie,  thoughtfully.  "I  think  very  likely 
they'd  ha'  sent  him  to  an  orphan  asylum  if  he'd  lived  now." 

"  I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  you  are  not  right  about  that," 
said  her  father;  "  but  whether  you  are  or  not,  the  fact  re- 
mains that  Sir  Ector  took  Arthur  in,  and  without  knowing 
whence  he  came  or  who  or  what  he  was,  was  as  good  to 
him  as  he  was  to  Kaye,  his  own  little  boy  ;  and  when  Arthur 
learned  that  Ector  was  not  his  father,  it,  pained  him  deeply, 
and  he  heartily  wished  lie' had  never  seen  the  sword  in  the 
stone  which  had  made  known  the  secret  of  his  high  posi- 
tion to  the  world. 

"Then  Sir  Ector  asked  Arthur  to  be  his  gracious  lord 
when  he  had  become  King,  and  to  make  Kaye  the  steward 
of  all  his  lands.  This  Arthur  promised,  for,  as  he  said  to 
Sir  Ector,  he  owed  more  to  linn  and  his  wife  than  ho  did  to 
all  others  in  the  world.  The  promise  made,  Sir  Ector  took 
Arthur  to  the  Archbishop,  and  told  him  all  that  had  oc- 
curred, and  the  Archbishop  was  as  much  surprised  as  Ar- 
thur had  been,  and  bring  a  wise  man,  he  foresaw  that  all 
others  would  be  surprised  as  well,  and  some  of  them  un- 
pleasantly so.  so  he  advised  that  the  matter  be  kept  secret 
for  a  little  while,  when  he  would  summon  the  Knights  for 
another  trial,  at  which  Arthur  could  do  publicly  what  he 
had  already  done  unobserved. 

"On  Twelfth  Day  the  plan  was  carried  out.  The 
Knights  again  rode  to  the  church-yard  and  tugged  at  the 
sword,  but  no  more  successfully  than  before.  Then  Arthur 
came  forth  to  try,  and  they  all  laughed  at  him.  Some  of 


ECTult    TOOK    ARTHUR   TO   THE    ARCHBISHOP    AND    TULD    HIM    ALL. 


them  sneeringly  asked  why  a  mere  boy  should  be  brought 
forward  to  try  to  do  what  they,  the  most  gallant  and  the 
strongest  Knights,  hud  been  unable  to  do,  but  they  soon 
stopped  smiling  and  sneering  and  began  to  frown.  Arthur, 
as  he  had  previously  done,  walked  easily  up  to  the  stone, 
and  grasping  the  sword  by  the  hilt,  pulled  it  out  with  as 
little  effort  as  if  it  were  a  weed  in  a  garden." 

'•That  ain't  always  easy,"  said  Mollie,  who  bad  tried 
weeding  in  her  own  little  garden  patch. 

"No,"  said  her  father;  "not  always,  but  sometimes  they 
come  up  with  scarcely  an  effort,  and  that,  is  the  way  the 
sword  cauie  out  of  the  stone  as  boon  as  Arthur  grasped  the 
hilt," 

Jack  chuckled.  "You  can  bet  on  a  boy  to  beat  a  man 
ill  a  game  o'  stunts  every  time,"  In-  said,  proudly. 

"  Well,  you  can  in  many  cases,"  said  his  father,  with  a 
smile,  "but  the  Knights  did  not  like  it  any  the  better  for 
that.  They  were  not  used  to  playing  games  of  stunts  with 
boys, and  in  this  particular  instance  the  prize  was  so  great 
a  one  that  their  auger  ran  very  high, and  they  asked  some 
very  embarrassing  questions. 

'"Who  is  this  boy  ?' asked  some,  and  nobody  was  pre- 
pared to  answer  the  question.  All  Sir  Ector  knew  was 
that  he  had  brought  him  up  from  a  baby,  and  that  he  had 
beeu  a  very  good  boy,  but  this  was  not  enough  for  the 
Knights.  With  the  crown  at  stake,  they  wanted  to  be  cer- 
tain that  his  parents  were  people  of  high  birth.  They 
didn't  want  the  son  of  a  stable-man  to  rule  over  them  and 
to  sit  ou  the  throne,  and  they  grew  so  hitter  about  it  that 
to  save  trouble  the  Archbishop  ordered  another  trial  to  be 
held  at  Candlemas." 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"I  <Wt  think  that  was  fair,"  said  Mollie.  «  He'd  won, 
a, VI  they'd  onght  to  liave  given  him' the  prize. 

..Tn,;.  "said  her  father.  « He  certaiiilj  bad  won  it,bnt 
the  Archbishop  fell  that  having  won  .1  once,  he  would 

it  a"ain.  and  it   «as  better  I"  wail.' 

"SHe  was  all  right"  said  Jack.  « I  think  it  wasn't  quite 
fair  as  M.illi.-  says,  lint  it.  was  good  business. 

"Yes,"  said  tlie  Story-teller;  "for,  as  you  will 

Arthur  .li.ln't  lose  anything  by  it  except  time. 


100. 

Fl!  \\K  HOVVELL'S  OWN  ACCOUKT  OF  HIS  ADVENTURE 
IN  A  PRIVATE   CAR. 

BY  WILLIAM   DRYSDALE. 

IT  was  1ri  a  handsome  private  ear  without  any  name  that 
I  made  the  acc|iiaiiitanre  of  Frank  Howell.  He  was 
already  in  the  ear  when  I  boarded  the  train;  and  aa  the 
owner  of  tin-  ear,  who  was  also  the  owner  of  the  railroad 
we  were  riding  over,  was  busy  at  the  moment  dictating 
letters  lo  his  private  secretary  in  the  little  office  at  one 
end,  Frank  and  I  were  left  alone  together  in  the  principal 
room,  and  we  soon  lieeame  acquainted.  I  was  surprised  to 
see  him  there,  fur  although  I  had  made  frequent  journeys 
in  the  car,  I  had  never  seen  any  hoy  in  it  before;  but  he 
seemed  very  much  at  home  and  quite  contented.  He  was 
a  handsome  ho\  -or.  rather,  I  should  say  he  is  a  handsome 
hoy.  for  this  was  only  a  few  weeks  ago — with  dark  bright 
eyi-s  and  wavy  brown  hair,  and  a  pleasant  manner  that 
would,  make  almost  any  one  take  an  interest  in  him  at 
once. 

We  soon  fell  into  a  little  conversation,  and  I  learned  that 
he  was  a  Chicago  boy,  fourteen  years  old,  and  that  he  was 
spending  the  winter  will]  his  father  and  mother  in  the 
Seminole  Hotel,  in  Winter  Park,  Florida.  This  accounted 
for  his  presence  in  that,  neighborhood,  for  we  were  then 
riding  through  one-  of  the  central  counties  of  Florida;  but 
it  did  not  account  for  his  presence  in  the  private  car,  ami 
•when  I  dropped  a  hint  in  that  direction,  he  told  me  that 
he  had  known  the  owner  of  the  car  for  only  about  a  week. 
When  we  had  reached  this  stage  of  our  acquaintance,  Mr. 
H.  15.  Plant,  the  owner  both  of  the  car  and  the  railroad, 

ci •  out  of  his  office  and  spoke  to  us.    After  shaking  hands 

w  ilh  me  he  introduced  Frank  Howell. 

"He  doesn't  look  like  a  dangerous  boy,  does  he?"  Mr. 
Plant  said,  smilingly.  "But  he  had  hardly  got  down  into 
tliis  country  before  he  ran  away  with  my  car,  so  I  thought 
I  had  better  take  him  along  with  uie  to  Jacksonville,  for 
fear  he  might  run  away  with  the  whole  railroad." 

"  Indeed  I  think  it  was  the  ear  that  ran  away  with  me, 
Mr.  Plant,"  Frank  broke  in.  ''Anyhow,  I  brought  it  back 
again." 

"He  is  the  first  person  I  have  ever  known,"  Mr.  Plant 
went  on,  "to  travel  about  the  country  in  a  private  car, 
without  a  cent  of  money  to  buy  anything  to  eat  with. 
You  must  tdi  that  story,  Frank,  while  I  finish  my  letters; 
and  try  to  tell  it  as  well  as  you  told  it  to  me  the  other  day." 
"How  far  did  you  go  with  the  car,  Frank?"  I  asked, 
•when  we  were  left  alone  together  again. 

"About  twenty-five  hundred  miles,"  he  answered. 
"What!" 

"Twenty. ii\e  hundred  miles,  they  say  it  was.  I'll  tell 
you  about  it,"  he  replied. 

I  saw  there  was  a  story  corning,  and  that  Frank  was 
able  to  tell  it  well  iu  his  own  words;  so  I  made  uo  further 
i  interruptions. 

"  Yon  know,  after  you've  seen  the  lakes  at  Winter  Park," 
he  began.  "  and  the  pine  woods  and  the  caged  alligator,  and 
:i  lew  hundred  orange  groves,  there  isn't  very  much  more 
ioi  ib,  people  to  see,  so  they  go  down  to  the  station  about 
tsi\  o'clock  every  evening  to  see  the  last  mail  come  iu. 
That  brings  through  cars  from  the  North  —  one  sleeper 
from  New  ^oik  and  one  from  Chicago, that  meet  in  Jack- 


sonville. I  got  into  the  habit  of  going  to  the  station  every 
evening  loo,  and,  of  course.  I  soon  got  to  know  all  the 
sleepers  by  name.  There  wen'  the  Olivia,  and  the  Tagns, 
and  the  .Marion,  ami  perhaps  a  do/en  in  all,  but  only  two 
in  any  one  Irani. 

"Well, one  e\<-niug  I  was  in  the  crowd  looking  at  the 
passengers  gel  off.  when  I  happened  to  see  that  there  were 
three  big  cars  in  the  train, instead  of  two.  The  higgest.of 
all,  and  the  finest  of  all,  was  the  last  car  in  the  train,  and  I 
was  sure  I  had  never  seen  it  before,  so  I  pushed  down  the 
platform  lo  see  its  name.  Qiieerlyenongh.it  didn't  have, 
aiij  name  at  all:  it  just  had  the  figures  'IHU  '  painted  in 
gill  letters  on  iis  side.  I  looked  in  the  window  s.  and  saw- 
that  it  was  a  great  deal  handsomer  than  any  of  the  sleep- 
ers. There  were  only  two  or  three  gentlemen  in  the  car, 
and  they  were  sitting  in  big,  comfortable  arm -chairs  in  a 
room  that  shone  with  mirrors  and  polished  oak.  There 
w  i  i.  ilowers  on  a  table  in  the  centre,  and  at  one  end  a 
couch  that  looked  as  soft  as  down.  But  I  needn't  describe 
it  to  you.  because  it.  was  this  very  room,  in  lliis  very  car. 

"It  was  only  a  glance  I  had  before  the  train  started,  but 
that  was  enough  to  show  me  that  it  was  a  private  car,  and 
to  make  me  wonder  whether  I  should  ever  have  a  chance  to 
take  a  ride  in  one.  I  didn't  suppose  I  should,  at  least,  not 
for  a  great  many  years.  But  you  never  can  tell  about 
things,  can  you?  After  that  the  car  seemed  to  be  going 
up  or  coming  down  every  day  or  two,  and  I  always  looked 
into  it  whenever  I  had  an  opportunity.  One  morning  I 
happened  down  by  the  station,  and  there-  stood  No.  100  on  a 
side  track,  with  no  engine,  and  nobody  about  it. 

'•  '  Here's  my  chance,'  I  thought  to  myself,  'to  see  the 
finest  car  on  the  road';  and  I  went  up  to  it,  and  walked  all 
around  it,  and  climbed  over  the  platforms,  and  saw  just  no- 
thing at  all,  for  all  the  shades  were  pulled  down  tight. 

"  '  That's  too  bad,'  I  was  just  saying  to  myself,  or  I  guess 
I  must,  have  been  saying  it  out  loud.  '  I  do  wish  I  could 
see  the  inside  of  that  ear';  and  the  minute  I  said  it  I  heard 
somebody  alongside  of  me  say  : 

"'Do  you?  Then  come  along  with  me,  for  I  am  going 
into  it.' 

"  I  looked  around,  and  there  was  a  gentleman  I  often  saw 
in  the  hotel,  and,  of  course,  he  ofteu  saw  me  there. 
" '  Oh  !'  said  I ;  '  can  you  get  into  it  ?' 
"'I  think  so,'  said  he,  half  laughing.     '1  am  the  super- 
intendent of  the  road.' 

"He  unlocked  the  door  with  a  key,  and  took  me  in,  and 
that  was  the  first  time  I  ever  set  foot  in  this  or  any  other 
private  car.  It  fairly  took  me  oft'  my  feet  to  see  how  fine 
it  was.  He  showed  me  the  office  at  the  end,  with  its  big 
windows  on  three  sides,  and  its  soft  sofa  and  velvet  carpet 
and  rugs;  and  the  two  big  state-rooms,  each  with  its  broad 
double  bed  and  its  bath-room  ;  and  this  dining-room  where 
we're  sitting,  as  big  as  the  dining-room  in  a  French  flat, and 
much  handsomer;  and  the  two  'sections'  like  a  sleeper:  and 
another  bath-room  ;  and  the  tiny  baggage-room  ;  and  at  the 
end  of  the  car  the  kitchen,  all  stocked  with  copper  kettles 
and  pans;  and  the  refrigerator,  and  away  up  over  that  a 
berth  for  the  cook.  My,  but  didn't  it  all  look  fine!  You 
see,  it  was  the  first  time  I  was  ever  iu  a  private  car ;  I 
wasn't  so  used  to  them  then  as  I  am  now. 

"I  asked  whose  car  it  was,  and  the  Superintendent  said 
it  belonged  to  Mr.  Plant,  who  owned  the  hotel  I  was  stay- 
ing iu  and  the  other  big  hotel  in  Tampa,  and  was  president 
of  that  railroad  and  a  dozen  others,  and  two  or  three  steam- 
ship lines.  No  wonder  he  had  a  beautiful  car  all  to  him- 
self, was  it  ?  Well,  I  was  just  going  to  say  that  that  was 
the  way  I  happened  to  get  acquainted  with  the  superin- 
tendent, and  it  was  through  him  that  I  happened  to  go 
down  to  Tampa  alone  a  few  days  afterwards  to  see  the  big 
hotel  and  the  steamships,  because  he  was  going  down,  and 
he  said  he'd  see  me  safe  in  the  train  to  come  back. 

"You  kuow  how  the  trains  start  just  back  of  the  big 
hotel  in  Tampa  f  Well,  I  was  to  take  the  3.15traiu  iu  the 
afternoon  to  come  home,  and  I  was  therein  good  time;  but 
I  didn't  see  anything  of  the  superintendent  at  first.  I  saw 
this  car  standing  there,  i  hough,  with  its  shades  all  down  ; 
but  it  was  some  ways  down  the  track,  and  not  coupled  to 
any  train.  The  last  car  of  my  train  was  the  parlor  car, 

622 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


and  I  got  in  that,  for  I  had  exactly  fifty  cents  left  to  pay 
my  parlor-car  fare  with,  besides  my  return  ticket,  of  course. 
In  a  minute  or  two  the  train  began  to  back,  and  I  saw  the 
conductor  outside  making  signals  to  the  engineer,  so  I 
went  to  the  rear  door  and  looked  out. 

••  What  do  you  think  ?  They  were  backing  right  down 
to  this  car,  and  in  a  minute  they  had  it  coupled  to  my 
train;  and  just  as  the  coupling  was  made  the  superin- 
tendent opened  the  door  and  (.'anie  .out  on  the  platform, 
and  as  soon  as  lie  saw  me  lie  told  me  to  come  over  then-. 

"I  was  sure  then  that  lie  \vas  going  to  ride  somewhere 
in  this  car,  iind  maybe  he  might,  let  me,  ride  with  him  a 
little  ways.  Wasn't  it  tin1  luckiest  thing  in  the  world,  I 
thought,  that  1  happened  to  be  there  just  at  the  right 
miiiiitcf?  We  both  went  inside,  in  I  he  little  office  at  the 
end  where  Mr.  Plant  is  now;  and  the  first  thing  the  su- 
perintendent said,  said  lie,  '  I  am  going  to  take  this  car  up 
the  road,  and  if  you  like  yon  can  ride  up  to  Winter  Park 
with  me.' 

"  Well,  sir,  it  was  so  sudden  I  didn't  know  for  a  minute 
whether  I  stood  on  my  feet,  or  my  head.  But  the  train 
bewail  to  move  oil',  so  I  saw  it  was  really  true. 

"  '  Isn't  Mr.  Plant  going  to  use  it  ?'  I  asked  him — for  I  was 
SO  excited  I  hardly  knew  what  I  said. 

"'Mr.  Plant  sailed  for  Jamaica  this  morning,' he  an- 
swered, 'and  will  not  be  back  for  two  weeks.  The  car  is 
going  up  to  New  York  now  to  bring  Mrs.  Plant  and  some  of 
her  friends  down.  It  has  just  been  thoroughly  cleaned 
for  her  use,  so  I  do  not  care  to  open  it  up  much  and  let  the 
dust  in ;  but  you  can  make  yourself  comfortable  here  in 
the  otiice  while  I  look  over  some  papers.  I  am  only  going 
/is  far  as  Lakeland  myself,  about  thirty  miles  up  the  road; 
but  yon  can  go  on  to  Winter  Park  in  the  car  if  you'll  be 
sure  to  slam  the  door  when  yon  get  out.  It  locks  with  a 
spring  lock.' 

"Make  myself  comfortable!  Well  I  should  rather  say 
I  could.  I  was  as  proud  as  a  peacock.  It  was  foolish,  of 
course,  hut,  you  see,  I'd  never  had  a  ride  in  a  private  car 
hefore.  I  was  sorry  none  of  my  friends  had  seen  me  start 
off  in  it,  and  that  none  of  them  would  be  likely  to  see  me 
get  out,  for  the  train  was  not  due  at  Winter  Park  till  after 
eight  o'clock.  It  seemed  jnst  like  being  in  a  house,  it  went 
so  smooth  and  firm;  and  when  people  looked  in  the  win- 
dows at  stations,  I'd  imagine  they  were  wondering  what 
nabob  that  boy  was,  to  be  travelling  in  such  style.  And 
then  I'd  think  of  having  only  fifty  cents  in  my  pocket,  and 
I'd  have  to  laugh. 

"It  seemed  just  no  time  at  all  before  we  got  to  Lakeland, 
where  the  superintendent  left  me.  He  told  me  to  take  a 
nap  on  the  sofa  if  I  got  sleepy,  for  I  still  had  a  four  hours' 
ride,  and  to  be  sure  and  slam  the  door  when  I  got  out. 
Then  1  had  the  grand  car  all  to  myself,  and  wasn't  I  just 
prouder  than  ever!  I  wanted  to  go  all  over  it  and  look  at 
all  the  handsome  things,  but  I  wouldn't  do  it,  because  that 
would  be  jnst  like  sneaking  over  anybody's  house.  I  staid 
right  in  the  office,  and  pretty  soon  it  began  to  grow  dark', 
for  there  was  nobody  to  light  the  lamps  in  the  car,  and  I 
began  to  grow  sleepy.  So  I  spread  out  a  newspaper  for 
my  feet,  and  lay  down  on  the  sofa. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  anything  as  soft  as  these  sofas  ?  It 
was  like  floating  in  the  air,  and  I  imagined  myself  riding 
on  that  magic  carpet  in  the  Arnhinii  Xiglils.  But  there 
was  something  lacking,  as  there  always  is.  I  was  as  hun- 
gry as  a  hear,  for  I'd  eaten  nothing  since  morning.  Then  I 
thought  of  the  fifty  cents  in  my  pocket,  and  the  buffet  they 
always  have  in  the  sleepers  and  parlor  ears  in  Florida,  and 
how  easy  it  would  be  to  go  into  the  next  car  and  buy  some 
supper.  But  didn't  I  fasten  back  the  catch  of  the  door 
carefully  before  I  went  out?  Yon  see,  I'd  have  been  only 
an  ordinary  passenger  if  the  door  had  locked  after  me,  for 
I  couldn't  have  got  back. 

"The  waiter  in  the  parlor  car  looked  at  me  a  kind  of 
queer  when  I  ordered  my  supper.  '  Do  you  belong  in  this 
ear  ?'  said  he. 

"'Oh  no,' said  I.  'I  have  a  private  ear  in  the  rear.' 
Well,  sir,  after  that  you'd  have  thought  I  was  the  President 
of  the  United  States  from  the  way  he  waited  on  me.  My 
fifty  cents  didn't  buy  very  much,  but  it  was  enough. 


"  In  a  few  minutes  I  was  back  on  my  sofa  in  Xo.  100,  with 
the  door  locked.  It  was  almost  dark,  and  getting  chilly, 
but  having  a  tine  private  car  all  to  myself  more  than  made 
up  for  that.  Jnst  think  of  it!  It  was  almost  as  though  I 
owned  the  car.  Even  the  conductor  didn't  come  in,  for  they 
don't  go  into  a  railroad  president's  private  car  to  ask  for 
tickets. 

"  I  took  a  soft  rug  off  the  Hour  and  pulled  it  over  me,  and 
thought  I  might  as  well  take  a  nap.  It  would  l>c  safe  to 
sleep  for  an  hour,  or  even  two,  and  I  was  tired  with  mv  da\  "s 
travel.  (  H' course  I  was  asleep  in  no  time.  My,  how  good 
it  felt  ! — a  private  car  all  to  myself,  soft,  sofa  to  sleep  on, 
nobody  to  bother  me. 

••  Suddenly  something  woke  me  up.  I  didn't  know  where 
1  \\  as  at  first,  hut  it  came  back  to  me  in  a  minute,  and  I  was 
awfully  cold.  A  little  scared,  too,  for  if  I  had  slept  any 
longer  I  might  have  been  eairied  past  Winter  Park,  and  a 
prel  ty  thing  that  would  have  been.  I  jumped  up  and  lo.ik- 
ed  out,  but  it  was  too  dark  to  see  anything  much.  We  were 
running  very  slow,  ami  I  thought  by  the  way  things  look- 
ed we  were  just,  getting  into  a  station.  So  I  sat  down  by 
the  window  and  watched,  and,  sure  enough,  we  were  just 
about  to  stop.  When  we  did  stop,  my  car  stood  right  square 
in  tVont  of  the1  bay-window  of  a  station.  And  what  do  yon 
think  I  saw?  Well,  sir,  it  was  enough  to  make  a  boy's  hair 
turn  gray.  There  was  a  big  sign  on  the  front  of  the  build- 
ing, WAYCROSS;  and  the  clock  inside  the  window  said 
4.35. 

"Then  1  knew  I  was  in  for  it;  for  Waycross,  you  know, 
is  in  Georgia,  about  half-way  between  Jacksonville  and 
Savannah,  and  nearly  three  hundred  miles  above  Winter 
Park.  Instead  of  taking  a  little  nap,  I  had  slept  for  eight 
or  nine  hours,  and  I  was  three  hundred  miles  away  from 
my  friends,  without  a  cent  in  my  pocket.  My  tirst  thought 
was  to  get  out,  but  while  I  had  my  hand  on  the  door-knob 
I  thought  better  of  it.  What  would  become  of  me  if  I  got 
out  ?  I  had  no  money  to  go  home  with — not  even  a  cent 
to  telegraph  to  my  folks  with.  Go  to  the  conductor,  do 
you  say?  You  see,  we  were  on  an  entirely  different  rail- 
road from  the  one  we  started  on,  and  had  a  different  con- 
ductor, of  course.  This  one  wouldn't  know  anything  about 
me.  and  probably  would  not  believe  my  story. 

"It  was  a  pretty  tough  place,  wasn't  it?  Private  car, 
soft,  sofa,  fine  rugs,  great  style,  and  not  a  cent  of  money. 
While  I  was  trying  to  make  up  my  mind  what  to  do,  the 
train  started.  But  that  was  all  right;  for  somehow  I 
couldn't  get  it  out  of  my  head  that  the  best  tiling  I  could 
do  was  to  stick  to  the  car.  Yon  see,  I  figured  it  this  way: 
when  I  didn't  come  home  at  nine  o'clock,  they'd  begin  to 
worry  about  me.  They'd  telegraph  to  the  superintendent, 
and  he'd  understand  how  it  was,  and  telegraph  along  the 
line,  ami  have  me  found  and  sent  home. 

"  Had  it  all  reasoned  out  tine,  didn't  I?  And  it  would 
have  turned  out  so,  only  for  one  thing.  The  superintend- 
ent drove  out  in  the  country  somewhere  from  Lakeland, 
where  he  couldn't  be  reached  by  telegraph,  and  he  didn't, 
get  back  to  Winter  Park  for  two  days.  Nobody  else  knew 
that  I  was  in  this  car.  Wasn't  that  a  fix  for  yon  ? 

"  But  I'm  getting  ahead  of  my  story.  I'd  made  up  my 
mind  to  stick  to  the  car,  if  I  had  to  ride  all  the  way  to 
New  York.  But  of  course  my  folks  and  the  superintendent, 
would  find  me  long  before  that.  You  sec-,  I've  read  in  the 
papers  how  lost  hoys  in  New  York  are  taken  care  of  by 
the  police,  and  their  friends  telegraphed  to.  But  I  had  a 
better  plan  than  that  to  try  first,  if  it  came  to  the  worst,' 
I'd  go  to  a  good  hotel  and  get  them  to  telegraph,  and  my 
father  would  send  on  money  for  me.  The  summer  clothes 
I  wore  would  be  some  proof  of  my  coming  from  Florida. 
You  see,  I  had  to  think  out  every  little  point. 

"Well,  I'll  not  tire  you  with  telling  yon,how  I  rode  on 
and  on  and  on,  and  how  nobody  came  into  the  car  after  me. 
Yon  know  the  road,  of  course.  We  were  in  Savannah,  and 
then  we  were  in  Charleston,  and  in  Wilmington;  but  no- 
body inquired  for  me.  I  may  as  well  own  up  that.  I  was 
pretty  well  frightened  when  night  came  on  again.  I  kept 
the  door  locked,  of  course,  and  most  all  the  shades  down, 
for  somehow  I  didn't  care  much  about  looking  at  tho 
scenery. 


623 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"  WELL,  SIR,  IT    WAS    ENOUGH    TO    MAKE    A    BOY'S    HAIR    TURN    GRAY. 


"But  I  had  to  break  my  rule  about  not  going  through 
the  car,  for  by  night  I  was  almost  starved.  There  must  be 
something  to  eat  in  the  kitchen,  I  thought;  and  I  went 
and  looked.  Not  a  thing  there!  Closets  empty,  and  all 
scrubbed  out  clean,  refrigerator  open  and  empty,  not  so 
much  anywhere  as  a  scrap  of  bread.  I'd  have  eaten  some, 
you  know,  if  there'd  been  any  there  —  for  what  would  a 
railroad  president  can-  fur  a  slice  of  bread  when  a  fellow- 
was  hungry?  That  made  me  kind  of  desperate,  and  I 
tried  the  dining-room — this  room.  Well,  sir,  iu  the  closet 
under  that,  cabinet  in  the  corner  I  found  a  big  earthenware 
.jar  half  full  of  Boston  water-crackers — those  fearfully  hard 
ones,  you  know,  lint  didn't  they  taste  good,  though  !  I  felt 
kind  of  mraii  about  eating  them,  but  it  was  all  right — 
Mr.  Plant  says  it  was,  and  he's  sorry  I  didn't  tiud  a  porter- 
hoiise  strnk  t  here. 

"Lying  down  that  second  night  was  the  worst  time  of 
all.  Did  I  cry,  you  say?  Yes,  sir,  I  did  cry.  Mind  you, 
I'm  only  fourteen,  and  a  bigger  boy  than  that  would  have 
cried.  Theu  sometimes  I  laughed,  too.  When.  I  began  to 
wonder  whether  I  was  a  nabob  travelling  in  a  private  car, 
or  a  tramp  looking  for  a  supper,  that  made  me  laugh.  It, 
was  frightfully  dark,  and  of  course  I  did  not  dare  light  a 
lamp.  It  was  cold,  too ;  but  I  managed  that  with  more 
rugs.  There  were  plenty  of  rugs.  By  that  time  I  was 
nearly  a  thousand  miles  away  from  my  friends,  and  nobody 
seemed  to  be  making  any  inquiries  about  me.  But  I  knew 
that  was  nonsense,  for  do  you  think  my  mother  wouldn't 
hunt  me?  When  I  thought  of  how  she  must  be  worrying 
about  me,  it  made  me  cry  again,  and  I  cried  myself  to  sleep. 
The  next  thing  I  knew  somebody  was  shaking  me  by  the 
shoulder. 

"'Wake  up,  young  man!'  the  somebody  was  saying. 
'Are  \ou  Frank  Unwell  .'' 

"  '  Yes,  sir,'  saiil  1,  as  soon  as  I  got  my  senses. 

"II  was  a  tall  vonm;  gentleman,  as  1  could  see  by  the. 
llj;ht  through  the  w  indo\v,  and  the  train  was  standing  still. 

"'Then  come  aloni;  with  me,' said  he.  'It's  half  past 
five  iii  the  morning,  and  this  is  Washington.  You've  only 
about  twelve  minutes  to  eat  your  breakfast  in.' 

"  Then  I  knew  I'd  been  found,  and  do  you  know  it  almost 
took  away  my  strength.  We  were  in  the  railway  restau- 
rant, and  I  was  eating  like  a  starving  man  before  1  had  a 
chance  to  ask  any  questions,  and  then  it  was  the  gentle- 
man w  ho  diil  the  asking. 

"•  lla\e  \ou  come  far?'  said  he. 


"'Come  far!'  said  I;  '1 
was  carried  past  Winter 
Park.  Didn't  you  know  f 

"  '  I  didn't  know  any- 
thing about  it,'  said  he. 
'I'm  just  obeying  orders. 
I  got  this  telegram  only 
about  two  hours  ago.'  And 
he  laid  on  the  table  a  tele- 
gram which  read: 

"  '  To  FRED  ROBUN, 

Washington. 
"  'Mrs.  Plant  desires  yon 
to  tiud  Frank  Howell,  a  boy 
probably  coming  North  in 
her  car  in  Train  14.  See 
that  he  has  breakfast  and 
anything  else  he  wants, 
and  send  him  on  to  New 
York.  Telegraph  Seminole 
Hotel  as  soon  as  fouud. 
"  '  H.  S.  HAINES, 

Vice-President.' 

"  'That's  all  right, then,' 
said  I.  '  Somebody's  found 
me  ;  I  don't  know  who  it  is.' 
'"All  right!' said  he;  'I 
should  say  it  was.  You're 
the  luckiest  boy  in  the 
country  if  Mrs.  Plant  is, 

looking  after  yon.    There  goes  the  bell.    Now  is  there  any- 
thing more  I  can  do  for  you  ?' 

"I  told  him  not  a  thing  more,  and  he  said  he  would  tele- 
graph to  iny  father,  and  that  of  course  somebody  would 
meet  me  in  New  York.  Well,  sir,  it  was  a  different  ride 
after  that,  though  the  car  got  colder  all  the  time.  I  pulled 
up  all  the  shades  .and  made  things  look  cheerful,  and  un- 
locked the  door,  for  I  wasn't  afraid  any  longer  of  being  put 
out.  And  somebody  did  meet  me.  It  was  a  man  in  livery, 
and  he  had  a  warm  overcoat  for  me,  and  took  me  across  the 
ferry,  and  put  me  in  a  beautiful  coach  with  two  horses,  and 
in  a  few  minutes  I  was  in  one  of  the  finest  houses  I  ever  saw 
in  my  life,  ami  a  beautiful  lady  was  stroking  my  head. 

"  '  Why,  you  poor  child,'  Mrs.  Plant  said  (for  the  lady  was 
Mrs.  riant  ).  •  w  bat  a  fright  you  must  have  had !  But  your 
troubles  are  over  now,  for  I  shall  take  you  back  with  me  to 
Florida  to-morrow.  I  was  so  afraid'yon  would  be  starving 
in  the  car,  as  it  was  all  cleaned  out.' 

"  I  told  her  about  the  crackers  I  found,  and  that  made 
her  laugh.  After  a  while  I  asked  her  how  she  had  found 
me  out,  and  why  my  folks  had  not  hunted  me  up. 

"  '  Hunted  you  up  !'  she  repeated.  'Why,  child,  we  had  the 
whole  line  turned  upside  down  looking  for  you.  The  whole 
1  rouble  was  that  the  superintendent  did  not  get  back  to 
Winter  Park  till  late  last  night,  and  no  one  else  knew  that 
you  were  iu  my  car.  But  as  soon  as  he  returned  he  tele- 
graphed the  New  York  office  what  had  happened,  and  they 
sent  word  to  me.  It  was  after  midnight  then,  and  Wash- 
ington was  the  first  place  I  could  catch  the  car.' 

"Say,  did  you  ever  see  such  a  kind  lady  as  Mrs.  Plant? 
She.  said  I  was  her  guest,  because  it  was  her  car  had  carried 
me  oft';  and  that  night  she  took  me  to  the  opera,  and  the 
next  day  we  started  back  for  Florida.  We  didn't  live  on 
crackers  on  this  way  down,  either,  /  tell  you  ;  nor  the  car 
wasn't  cold  or  dark.  I  didn't  find  out  till  after  I  got  back 
that  Mrs.  Plant  thought  my  folks  would  be  so  worried  that 
she'd  telegraphed  to  a  dozen  of  the  agents  to  find  me,  and 
had  told  them  all '  the  boy  is  to  be  treated  as  my  guest,  wher- 
ever found.'  And  you  see  how  kind  Mr.  Plant  was  about  it 
after  he  not  home.  This  is  the  second  time  he  has  had  me 
out  to  ride  with  him.  Oh,  it's  jolly,  being  carried  away  in 
a  president's  (private  ear — after  you're  found. 

11  Some  of  the  boys  at  the  hotel  say  I  was  a  chump  not  to 
tell  the  conductor  after  I  found  I  was  carried  past,  and 
have  him  send  me  home.  But  was  I  ?  Well,  I  rather  think 
uot.  They're  jealous,  that's  all." 


624 


A     NAUTICAL 


BALLOON. 


BY    W.    J.    HENDERSON. 


IT  was  blowing  fresh  from  the  eastward  and  southward, 
and  the  Alice  Tree,  under  two  lower  topsails,  spanker, 
and  a  bit  of  head-sail,  was  roaring  along  on  a  taut  bowline, 
and  looking  well  up  toward  her  course.  That  was  as  near- 
ly due  east  as  a  good  compass,  a  cool  hand  at  the  wheel, 
and  an  honest  desire  to  cross  the  fiftieth  meridian  in  lat- 
itude 40°  30'  could  make  it.  All  the  way  from  Sandy  Hook 
Light-ship  the  stanch  ship  had  leaned  to  a  soldier's  wind  till 
the  mid-watch  of  this  day,  and  even  now,  under  shortened 
canvas  and  with  weather  clews  a-tremble,she  was  making 
eight  knots  .in  hour  on  her  great  circle  track.  The  wind 
boomed  out  of  the  arching,  creamy  hollows  of  the  two  top- 
sails, and  hummed  through  the  tense  shrouds  and  back- 
stays. 

Out  forward  the  sweeping  curve  of  the  clipper  bow 
swung  swiftly  upward,  with  bobstay  and  martingale  drip- 
ping with  sparkling  brine,  and  again  plunged  down  with  a 
thunderous  roar  and  a  boiling  of  milk-white  foam  up  to  the 
hawse-holes.  Ever  and  anon  a  hissing  shower  of  iridescent- 
spray  would  hurtle  across  the  forecastle  deck,  aud  lose  it- 
self iu  the  smother  of  yeasty  froth  that  blew  along  the  lee 
rail. 

Up  to  windward  the  sea  hardened  itself  against  the 
luminous  horizon  in  a  steel-blue  field  of  cotton- tufted 
ridges,  leaping  and  falling  in  wide  unrest.  Overhead  sheets 
of  wreathing  vapor  rushed  across  the  dense  blue  sky,  aud 
iu  and  out  of  the  rifts  the  dazzling  white  sun  shot  wildly 
as  if  in  meteoric  llight.  Captain  Elias  Joyce  leaned  against 
the  weather  rail  of  his  poop  deck,  aud  looked  contented. 

"  It  '11  blow  harder  before  it  blows  easier,  Mr.  Bolles,"  he 
said  to  his  mate,  "  but  it  '11  go  to  the  sont-h'ard." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir,"  said  the  mate.  "Aud  I  reckon  we'll  do 
very  well  as  we  are." 

"Yes,  let  well  enough  alone,"  said  the 
Captain.  "Come,  gentlemen,  let's  go  to 
dinner." 

The  gentlemen  were  Josepli  and  Henry 
Browusou,  the  twin  sons  of  the  owner  of 
the  ship.  They  were  making  this  voyage 
on  a  sailing-ship  for  health  and  recreation 
after  a  hard  struggle  with  their  final  ex- 
aminations at  college.  They  were  well 
used  to  the  sea,  aud  had  served  an  appren- 
ticeship in  many  a  hearty  dash  around 
Brentons  Heef  Light-ship  aud  the  Block 
Island  buoy.  They  were  enjoying  every 
minute  of  their  voyage,  but  they  had  yet 
one  great  desire  to  gratify.  They  wished 
to  get  the  Captain  to  spin  them  a  yarn  of 
some  strange  experience  at  sea.  Up  to 
the  present  time  he  had  refused  to  accept 
their  hints.  But  they  had  not  yet  aban- 
doned hope.  At  the  dinner  table  they 
renewed  the  attack,  but  without  result. 
When  the  meal  was  ended,  the  Captain 
filled  a  pipe,  aud  the  conversation  drifted 
in  various  channels.  Henry  spoke  of  col- 
lege celebrations  and  the  foolishness  of 
sending  up  fire- balloons.  The  Captain 
took  the  pipe  out  of  his  mouth,  blew  a, 
big  cloud  of  smoke,  aud  said,  reflectively  : 

"Well,  I  don't  know.  I  remember  once 
when  a  fire-balloon  turned  out  to  be  a 
mighty  useful  thiug  at  sea." 

"  I'd  like  to  know  how,"  said  Joseph. 

"  Well,  if  you  two  young  gentlemen 
won't  be  bored  by  hearing  a  sea  yarn,  I'll 
just  spin  it  for  you." 

The  two  young  men  looked  at  one  an- 
other. Bored  .'  Well,  that  was  good,  af- 
ter all  their  clever  hints. 

"It  was  a  matter  of  thirty  years  ago,'' 
began  the  Captain,  "  when  I  was  only  a 
boy,  aud  was  making  a  voyage  much  as 
you  gentlemen  are,  for  the  pleasure  of  it. 


My  father,  who  was  a  sea  captain,  was  part  owner  iu  the 
Ellen  Burgee,  aud  he  thought  it  would  be  a  good  thing  for 
me  to  go  out  aud  sniff  salt  air  and  see  blue  water.  The 
Elli'ii  tlnri/i-r  was  an  old-fashioned  ship,  with  long  single 
topsails,  a  mackerel  -  head  bow,  and  tumble  -  home  sides. 
Her  stern  was  rounded  out  in  a  big  arch,  and  she  had 
quarter  galleries  like  a  liue-of-battle  ship.  She  was  a 
roaring  good  sailer,  though,  and  her  skipper  was  likely  to 
use  had  language  if  he  caught  her  doing  anything  under 
eight  knots  in  a  breath  of  air.  She  had  a  handsome  cabin, 
too,  had  the  Elli'ii  Bui'gee,  and  when  the  swinging  lamp  was 
shedding  its  soft  yellow  light  over  the  polished  mahogany 
table,  the  cushioned  lockers,  the  rugs,  and  the  white  and 
gold  paint,  it  looked  like  the  owner's  saloon  in  a  modern 
schooner  yacht.  I  suppose  I  didn't  know  at  that  time  how 
comfortable  I  was,  but,  looking  back  now,  I  can't  say  that  I 
was  ever  any  better  off  on  shipboard. 

"  The  Ellen  Burgee  was  bound  from  New  York  for  Table 
Bay.  It's  not  necessary  to  go  into  any  account  of  her  cargo, 
seeing  that  it  has  uot  anything  to  do  with  this  story,  aud 
that  it  never  arrived  at  its  port  of  destination,  anyhow,  but 
went  to  feed  fishes.  However,  that's  running  ahead  of  my 
reckoning,  so  I'll  just  heave  to  and  drift  back.  We  passed 
Saudy  Hook  with  a  fair  wind  and  all  kites  flying.  We  didn't 
take  a  tug  every  time  we  weut  to  sea  iu  those  days,  but 
used  to  lie  iu  the  Horseshoe  for  a  favoring  breeze.  I  don't 
kuow  that  there's  anything  serious  to  tell  you  about,  ex- 
cept that  we  stopped  at  Bermuda  for  three  days,  aud  I  had 
my  first  look  at  those  happy  islands.  What's  more  to  tin- 
point  is  that  a  week  later,  in  latitude  18°  15'  N.,  lougitude 
5f>-  :((•'  W.,  we  sighted  a  derelict  brig.  She  was  water- 
logged ami  abandoned  ;  but  our  old  mail  thought  there 


THE    CREW    GAVE    THREE    HEARTY   CHEERS    AS    THE    BALLOON    AROSE. 
C'25 


HARPER'S   BOUND   TABLE 


might  he  something  almnrcl  lic-r  worth  saving,  and  so,  as  t  he 
wind  was  very  light,  ami  \\  e  couldn't  lose  much  by  backing 
oin  I'mc-topsail  \  ard  I'm1  a  time-,  lie  sent  a  linal  to  her.  The 
MI  mid  matr  went  in  it, and  came  back  with  a  cargo  of  ti--- 
siir-]iai>cr.  ink.  pel  is,  a  ml  a  l'r\\  other  loose  things  he'd  picked 
up  in  her  cabin.  The  tissue-paper,  he  said,  would  do  for 
the  boy-  mi' — to  ]>lay  with.  1  laughed  at  him  at  the-  lime, 
fur  I  didn'l  see  what  use  the  tissue-paper  would  be  to  me. 
Jiut  I  made  a  fire-ballooii  ,mt  of  it  afterwards,  and  we  were 
all  pretty  glad  that  we  had  it  aboard. 

"  We  were  getting  down  toward  the  equator  when  it  fell 
a  dead  Mat  calm.  I  never  saw  sneli  a  calm  before  or  since, 
except  once.  The  sea  looked  like  gray  oil,  its  surface  was  so 

s ith  and  glassy.  But  out,  of  the  southwest  there  came 

a  swell  that  kei.tgrov.iug  bigger  and  bigger  and  bigger. 
Tin-re  was  not  a  breath  of  wind  stirring,  and  the  whoo, 
who...  whoo  of  the  rush  of  air  in  the  rigging  as  the  ship 
rolled  sounded  like  the  whistling  of  some  ghostly  fog  siren. 
-And  how  she  did  roll!  Every  spar  and  timber  in  her 
groaued  and  squeaked  as  if  in  mortal  pain.  Pots  and 
dishes  rattled  and  banged  in  the  galley,  and  the  whole  in- 
terim- of  the.  ship  was  tilled  with  strange  unaccountable 
noises.  Up  above  the  sky  was  a  sort  of  dull  yellow,  and 
the  suu  looked  as  if  it  were  behind  smoked  glass.  The  old 
man  looked  at  the  barometer,  and  decided  that  \\e  were  in 
for  a  gale  of  wind.  So  he  had  the  ship  made  snug  under 
close-reefed  main-topsail,  a  storm  jib,  and  a  rag  of  spanker. 
In  those  clothes  she  was  ready  I'or  anything  that  might 
come  along.  We  lay  there  rolling  in  that  mad  fashion  un- 
til  nearly  midnight,  and.  boy  as  I  was,  I  thought  I  should 
go  insane  with  the  deadly,  inexorable, heartless  swa\iug 
of  the  helpless  fabric.  I  don't  believe  any  man  oxeepi  a 
hardened  old  sailor — and  riot  many  of  them — could  keep 
this  side  of  lunacy  if  he  were  becalmed  under  au  equatorial 
sun  in  a  swell  like  that  for  twenty-six  hours. 

"  llowever.it  ended  all  of  a  sudden  about  midnight.  I 
\\  as  ill  my  bunk,  but  I  couldn't  sleep  because  of  the  thump- 
ing of  the  cabin-doors  on  their  hinges.  I  heard  a  man  come 
lumbering  down  to  call  the  Captain,  and  I  slipped  out  of 
bed  and  into  my  clothes.  I  reached  the  deck  in  time'  to 
see  a  sudden  glitter  of  stars  in  the  northwestern  horizon, 
and  to  feel  a  splash  of  cold  wind  on  my  cheek.  The  next 
instant  the  whole  air  above  me  was  tilled  with  a  series 
of  wild  yells,  as  if  a  million  souls  were  in  agony.  The  gale 
had  struck  us,  ami  fur  an  instant  I  felt  as  if  my  breath  were 
driven  back  into  my  lungs,  so  great  was  the  pressure  of  the 
wind  in  my  face.  The  ship  heeled  over  till  her  lee  scup- 
pers ran  two  feet  deep  in  bubbling  water. 

"'Down  with  your  helm!  Hard  down!'  shouted  the 
Captain. 

"Slowly  the,  vessel's  head  came  up, and  she  righted  her- 
self. She  was  now  close-hauled,  and  she  began  to  thresh 
out  to  windward  with  a  fearful  bellowing  of  the  wind  out 
of  the  straining  main-topsail.  There  was  no  sea  yet:  on 
the  contrary,  the  terrific  force  of  the  wind  cut  down  the 
great  swells,  and  blew  Ihe  ocean  out  flat  in  a  sheet  of 
ghostly  foam.  Hut  that  did  not.  last  long.  The  sea  began 
to  inn.  and  the  KUi  n  liiiriin  began  to  rear  and  plunge  over 
the  ragged  crests,  and  to  thunder  down  into  the  black  hol- 
lows thai  looked  like- clefts  extending  to  the  bottom  of  the 
ocean.  At  daybreak  a  mad.  a  crazy  sea  presented  itself  to 
the  sight.  The  effect  of  t  he  gale  blowing  at  right  angles  to 
Ihe  original  swell  was  to  pile  up  the  billows  in  great 
«  i  it  h  ing  pyramidal  masses.  The  ship  la  bored  and  groaned 
fearfully.  Tons  of  water  broke  over  the  forecastle  deck, 
and  the  Captain  was  alarmed  lest  the  deck  seams  should 
open.  At  six  bells  iii  the  morning  watch  the  main-topsail 
blc\\  nut  of  the  bolt-ropes  with  a  report  like,  a  gun's,  and 
went  .swirling  a«  a\  into  the  flying  spooudrift  down  on  our 
lee  quarter.  A  slay-sail  was  set  to  do  the  main-topsail's 
work,  but  nolhing  would  prevent,  the  ship  from  falling  so 
far  oil' at  times  that  t  In- seas  broke  on  her  decks  in  masses. 
All  day  Ion;  she  was  driven  by  the  wind,  and  pounded  by 
Ihe  seas.  Our  drift  was  something  frightful,  but  it  wa's 
not  much  out  of  our  course.  At  four  belU  in  the  first 
watch, ten  o'clock  at  riiglit— but  I  forget  you  know  all  the 
bells — tin-  carpenter  reported  a  foot  of  water  in  the  hold. 
Then  began  the  heart-breaking  business  of  workin><-  the 


pumps.  All  night  long  I  heard  the  weary  clank,  clank, 
under-running,  as  it  were,  the  yelling  of  the  wind,  the  roar- 
ing of  the  sea.  and  the  groaning  of  the  stricken  ship.  At 
daylight  the  gale  broke,  and  a  few  hours  later  there  was 
oul\  a  gigantic  swell  to  tell  the  story  of  the  storm.  But 
the  E1I<  ii  liiirijiT  had  received  her  death  warrant.  She  was 
slowly  tilling  under  us  in  spite  of  all  that  we  could  do. 
The  Captain  gave  orders  to  prepare  to  abandon  ship.  The 
crew  was  at  work  at  this  when  a  new  idea  seemed  to  strike 
the  skipper. 

"'We  can't  be  many  miles  from  St.  Paul's  Rocks,'  he 
said  ;  aud  he  set  to  work  to  make  some  calculations.  The 
result  was  that  a  man  was  sent  to  the  masthead  to  look  for 
the  rocks,  sail  was  made  on  the  ship,  and  the  pumps  were 
manned  again.  St.  Paul's  Rocks,  you  must  know,  are  a 
small  cluster  of  rocky  projections,  rising  at  the  highest 
point  about  sixty  feet  above  the  sea.  They  are  in  latitude 
56'  N.,  longitude  29°  20'  W.,  and  our  old  man  figured  that 
we  wereu't  over  fifteen  miles  away  from  them.  Half  au 
hour  later  the  mast-head  lookout  sighted  the  rocks,  and  a 
little  later  we  sighted  them  from  the  decks. 

"  '  My  idea  is,'  said  the  Captain  to  the  mate,  '  to  run  the 
ship  on  the  rocks.  That  will  enable  us  to  save  all  our  dun- 
nage aud  all  the  boats,  aud  give  us  a  breathing-spell  to  de- 
cide what's  the  next  best  move.' 

"  The  mate  agreed  that  it  was  a  great  scheme.  The  Cap- 
tain went  aloft  to  pick  out  a  place  to  run  the  ship  ashore. 
He  found  a  good  spot  where  her  bow  would  wedge  up  ou 
the  rocks,  so  that  she  would  not  slip  off  aud  siuk,  and  he 
headed  her  for  it.  She  struck  pretty  hard,  and  the  foretop- 
gallant-mast  went  by  the  board,  taking  the  flying  jib-boom 
along  with  it;  but  we  did  not  mind  that,  for  we  found  that 
the  ship  had  taken  the  ground  for  nearly  half  her  length, 
and  was  in  what  you  might  call  a  mighty  comfortable  berth 
for  a  sinking  craft.  Two  of  our  boats  were  smashed  by  the 
falling  spars,  but  the  long-boat  was  all  right,  and  that  was 
what  the  Captain  counted  on  to  take  us  off  the  rocks. 

"Now  the  nearest  laud  to  St.  Paul's  Rocks  is  the  north- 
eastern extremity  of  Brazil,  Cape  St.  Roque,  and  that's 
something  over  500  good  sea  miles  away.  I  was  only  a 
small  boy,  but  I  had  sense  enough  to  know  that  a  voyage 
of  that  length  in  a  ship's  boat  would  be  a  desperate  under- 
taking, and  even  if  successful,  sure  to  embrace  terrible  hard- 
ship aud  exposure.  The  Captain  and  the  mate  knew  it, 
too,  and  they  decided  to  remain  right  where  they  were  for 
a  few  days  on  the  chance  of  sighting  a  passing  ship.  That 
was  a  mighty  poor  chance,  too,  for  very  few  vessels  pass 
within  sighting  distance  of  St.  Paul's  Rocks.  The  great 
circle  track  from  England  to  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  lies 
I  .el  \\  ecu  fifty  and  sixty  miles  to  the  westward  of  them,  and 
vessels  are  more  likely  to  deviate  to  the  westward  of  the 
track  than  to  the  eastward.  Every  sensible  navigator 
gives  those  rocks  a  wide  berth,  anyhow.  It  was  when  T 
heard  the  Captain  aud  the  mate  talking  those  matters  over 
that  I  conceived  my  great  fire-balloon  scheme.  I  didn't 
say  a  word,  but  fished  out  a  lot  of  stout,  wire  that  was 
aboard  the  ship,  got  my  stock  of  tissue-paper  together,  and 
sel  aiioiit  making  one  of  the  biggest  fire-balloons  ou  record. 
It  was  a  whopper,  and  no  mistake,  for,  you  see,  I  wanted  it 
to  have  carrying  ;  and  travelling  power.  When  I  had  it  fin- 
ished, I  secured  a  stout  bottle.  Then  I  wrote  this  brief  and 
direct  message  on  a  piece  of  brown  paper: 


"The  ship  Kllni  /;«/•,/<•(•  is  on  St.  Paul's  Rocks.  All 
hands  safe  and  \\cll.  but  would  like  to  get  away.' 

"I  put  that  iu  the  bottle  and  corked  it.  up  tight.  Then 
with  a  stiff  piece  of  wire  and  a  square  of  red  bunting  I  made 
a  Hag.  which  I  stuck  up  on  top  of  the  cork.  Next  I  made 
a  wire  bridle,  and  swung  the  bottle  below  the  neck  of  the 
balloon,  ao  far  down  that  the  flag  could  not  catch  fire.  I 
ballasted  the  bottom  of  the  bottle  first,  and  experimented 
with  it  so  that  it  would  float  upright,  even  with  the  weight 
of  wire  hanging  to  it.  The  Captain  saw  me  at  work,  aud 
said. 

"  '  What  are  you  up  to,  Elias  V 

'"Oh,  'I  said,  'I'm  getting  up  a  balloon  ascension  to  kill 
time.' 


626 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"That  night,  as  luck  would  Lave  it,  there  was  a  nice 
gentle  southeasterly  breeze,  and  I  made  ready  to  send  up 
my  balloon.  The  Captain  and  the  crew  gathered  around 
me  ami  chatted  me  a  little,  but  I  didu't  rniud  that. 

"  '  What's  the  bottle  for  ?'  asked  the  mate. 

"  'Just  for  a  sort  of  ballast,'  I  answered. 

'' '  What  do  you  have  the  flag  for  ?'  asked  one  of  the  men. 

"  '  Oh,  for  instance,'  I  answered,  in  school-boy  fashiou. 

"  I  now  lighted  the  flare  in  the  neck  of  my  balloon,  and 
had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  my  contrivance  slowly  but  surely 
inflated  with  the  heated  air.  In  good  time  it  was  ready  to 
rise,  and  as  I  released  it,  to  my  intense  satisfaction  it  gently 
rose  toward  the  sky,  carrying  the  bottle  with  it. 

"  '  Hooray  for  the  Fourth  o'  July !'  cried  one  of  the  sailors, 
and  the  crew  gave  three  hearty  cheers. 

"Then  they  all  stood  about,  watching  it  as  it  soared 
away  into  the  nor'west  like  a  comet. 

'"If  some  ship  sights  that  thing,'  said  one  old  fellow, 
'she'll  think  a  picnic  has  got  lost.' 

"  '  By  the  great  hook  block !'  exclaimed  the  mate, '  maybe 
they'll  hunt  around  and  timl  us.' 

"'If  that  should  happen,' said  the  Captain, 'it  would 
turn  out  that  your  sport  paid,  Elias.' 

"  '  Yes,  sir,'  said  I,  smiling,  and  rubbing  my  hands  behind 
my  back. 

•'  Well,  we're  pretty  near  the  end  of  this  yarn  now,  gentle- 
men. I  watched  that  tire-balloon  till  it  faded  out  of  sight 
in  the  nor'west,  and  then  I  turned  iu  and  dreamed  all  night 
about  ships  picking  up  bottles  with  messages  in  them,  ami 
saving  shipwrecked  crews.  And  the  next  day  I  did  no- 
thing but  go  aloft  and  look  for  a  sail,  but  not  one  hove  in 
sight.  The  following  day  I  did  the  same  thing,  and  that 
viniit  I  think  I  cried  a  little  because  no  vessel  appeared. 
On  the  third  day  I  didn't  go  aloft  till  after  breakfast,  and 
then  I  nearly  burst  niy  luugs  screaming,  'Sail  ho!'  Sure 
enough,  there  was  a  vessel  about  twenty  miles  oft'  to  the 
nor'west.  The  Captain  had  a  big  lire  started  on  the  rocks, 
and  sent  a  good  column  of  smoke  into  the  air.  The  vessel 
rose,  and  iu  a  couple  of  hours  we  saw  plainly  that  she  was 
heading  right  for  us.  Maybe  we  didu't  all  dance  for  joy! 
In  another  hour  she  hove  to  abreast  of  the  rocks  and  sent 
a  boat.  The  officer  iu  charge  of  it  stepped  out,  and  hold- 
ing up  my  bottle  with  a  tangled  mass  of  wire  and  pulp,  said, 

" '  How  did  you  get  this  thing  out  there  .'' 

"  '  Out  where  ?'  demanded  our  Captain. 

••  •  We  picked  it  up  forty  miles  nor'west  of  you.' 

"  '  Hurrah  for  my  tire-balloon  !'  I  cried.  '  And  was  the 
message  all  right  ?' 

"  '  Of  course.     Ain't  we  here  ?' 

"  And  he  handed  my  message  to  our  Captain,  who  threw 
his  arms  around  me,  and  exclaimed :  , 

•••You  little  angel!  You'll  be  a  sailor  yourself  some 
day.' 

"  And  sure  enough,"  said  Captain  Elias  Joyce,  rising  from 
the  table,  "he  told  the  living  truth.'' 


THE 

PUDDING! 


This  Department  is  conducted  in  the  interest  of  Girls  and  Yonne  Women, 
be  plensed  to  unswer  any  question  on  the  subject  so  far  as  possible.  Col 
address  Editor. 


ind  the  Editor  will 
•espondeDts  should 


IF  I  were  you  I  would  make  up  my  mind,  once  for  all, 
never  to  talk  about  ailments.  A  headache  or  neural- 
gia or  a  cough  is  hard  enough  to  bear  iu  one's  own  case: 
there  is  no  need  of  troubling  other  people  about  it.  Among 
so  many  girls  there  are  no  doubt  those  who  are  not  always 
well,  and  there  may  be  some  who  have  to  suffer  a  great 
deal  of  pain,  but  the,  pain  must  he  kept  in  its  place,  which 
is  in  the  background,  not  the  forefront  of  conversation. 


self.  The  mistake  often  made  by  invalids  is  that  their 
world  being  narrowed  by  confinement  to  their  rooms  or  by 
the  care  their  illness  makes  necessary,  they  fancy  that 
their  aches  and  pains,  the  medicines  they  have  to  take, 
and  the  diet  they  are  obliged  to  be  contented  with  are  as 
important  to  other  people  as  to  themselves.  This  is  a 
point  to  guard  against.  Let  nothing  about  liniments  and 
pills  and  prescriptions  creep  into  your  talk,  for  though  you 
are  an  invalid  to-day,  you  expect  to  be  well  to-morrow  or 
next  week,  and  illness  is  only  temporary,  while  health  is 
the  rule,  and  the  state  to  look  forward  to  with  eagerness 
ami  hope. 

IT  is  worth  while  for  us  all,  eveu  when  suffering  pain,  to 
refrain  from  frowning  and  wrinkling  up  our  faces,  and  say- 
ing impatient  words.  Every  passing  thought  and  feeling 
•write  themselves  upon  the  countenance,  and  the  young  girl 
is  making  day  by  day  not  only  the  woman  she  will  be  iu 
character  later  on,  but  the  woman  she  will  be- iu  looks. 
Handsome  or  plain,  agreeable  or  the  opposite,  the  woman 
of  forty  is  dependent  for  her  looks  on  the  girl  of  fourteen. 
You  owe  an  amount  of  thought  and  consideration  to  the 
woman  you  are  going  to  be,  and  the  friends  who  will  love 
her,  and  so  you  must  not  let  needless  lines  and  furrows 
come  to  your  pretty  brows,  but  keep  your  foreheads  smooth, 
and  do  not  draw  your  lips  down  at  the  corners,  nor  go 
about  looking  unhappy.  It  is  possible, even  when  bearing 
much  pain,  to  wear  a  tranquil  expression  if  one  will,  but 
remember  that  the  tranquil  mind  in  the  end  can  conquer 
pain. 

Cnossixi;  TOWN  the  other  day  in  haste  to  catch  a  train, 
the  horse-car  was  three  times  blocked  by  great  vans  which 
stood  upon  the  track.  The  van-drivers  appeared  to  be  un- 
loading their  goods  iu  a  very  leisurely  manner ;  to  us  in  the 
car,  with  the  precious  minutes  slipping  away  like  grains 
of  sand  in  the  hour-glass,  they  seemed  exceedingly  slow 
and  unhurried.  I  looked  about  on  my  fellow-passengers. 
Some  had  flushed  and  angry  faces,  some  could  not  sit  still, 
but  tapped  the  floor  with  their  feet,  and  uttered  exclama- 
tions, and  looked  at  their  watches.  One  or  two  stepped  out 
with  their  hags  and  walked  hastily  onward.  But  a  dear 
old  lady  in  the  corner  of  the  car  was  a  pattern  of  sweetness 
and  amiability,  and  I  heard  her  observe  to  her  neighbor, 
••  We  will  probably  lose  our  train,  but  at  this  time  of  the 
day  there  are  trains  every  half-hour,  and  it's  never  well 
to  be  put  out  by  little  accidents  of  this  sort."  She  had  the 
right  philosophy. 

THROUGH  life  when  little  things  go  wrong  it  will  be  wise 
to  accept  the  situation  without  fretting,  and  by  maintain- 
ing composure,  you  will  often  be  able  to  set  them  right 
again. 

MINA  K.  asks  whether  it  is  proper  to  allow  a  friend  whom 
she  happens  to  meet  in  a  public  conveyance  to  pay  her  car 
fare  and  ferriage.  As  a  rule  it  is  not  proper.  The  meet- 
ing is  an  incident,  and  does  not  affect  the  relative  positions 
of  either  friend.  Each  should  pay  for  herself,  precisely  as 
if  she  had  not  met  the  other.  Of  course,  this  rule  is  equal- 
ly and  perhaps  more  imperative  when  a  girl  happens  to 
meet  a  man  whom  she  knows,  her  friend  or  her  brother's 
chum.  He  should  not  offer  to  pay  for  her,  nor  should  she 
accept  the  offer  if  he  make  it.  The  only  exceptions  to  this 
rule  are  such  as  commouseuse  indicate.  A  girl  will  not 
make  a  fuss  nor  quarrel  about  a  matter  of  five  cents  with 
an  elderly  acquaintance,  who  might  easily  be  her  father  or 
mother.  Generally  speaking,  however,  each  person  pays 
her  own  way,  except,  when  in  company  with  others  by  in- 
vitation, and  where  she  is  the  guest  of  her  entertainer,  who 
does  not  permit  her  to  be  at  expense  when  sight-seeing  or 
jaunting  about. 


TALK  always  of  pleasant  things,  if  you  can,  and  of  what 
is  interesting  to  others  rather  than  of  what  concerns  your- 


C27 


GREAT  STATE  PAPERS. 

OUR    LAWS   AND    PROCLAMATIONS. 

P,Y    HKXRY    CLEMENT    HOI.MES 


FATKF.K."  said  TIIV  fonrteen-j  car -old  son.  "  Trd  Nichols 
dn  hired  to-day'that  In-  had  tlic  Wilson  tariff  liill  in 
his  pocket,      lie-  sa'ul  Mr.  Wilson  gave  it  to  him  to  take   to 
Ted's  lather,  \\lici  is  also  from  West  Virginia,  yon  know,  to 
reai  Land  sa\    u  hat  hr  thought  ol'  it.1 

My  son's  tone  had  in  it  both  increilnlity  and  interest,  and 
so  1  replied  : 

"I  thought  yon  had  lived  long  enough  in  Washington 
not  to  l.e  surprised  at  anything.     Did  not  Senator  Maybee 


THE    "McKIXLEY"    TARIFF    LAW-TITLE    PACK 


read  his  speech  to  us  the  other  evening,  before  he  had  de- 
livered it  in  the.  Senate?  And  did  we  not,  in  the  corridor 
of  the  State  Department, recently, meet  the  original  Consti- 
tution of  the  United  States  coming  down  the  granite  staircase 
three  steps  at  a  bound  ?  Yon  and  I  helped  pick  up  the  hits 
of  glass  Ij'roin  the  broken  frame,  which  our  friend  Coehraue 
had  dropped,  greatly  to  his  alarm,  in  carrying  it  from  a 
closet  to  the  library. 

"  It  would  be  quite  possible  for  Ted  Nichols,  or  any  other 
lad.  to  have  the  Wilson  tarift'bill  in  bis  pocket,  provided  he 
tool;  it  at  the  right  time.  It'  Mr.  Wilson  should  give  it  to 
jon  to  carry  to  your  father  for  examination,  while  your 
father's  opinion  was  wanted  regarding  a  proposed  change, 
j'ou  could  readily  carry  it  in  your  empty  lunch-basket.  But 
if  he  waited  until  his  bill  became  a  law,  yon  would  need  to 
lie  pretty  big  and  prettj-  strong  to  earn'  it  far. 

"  The  Wilson,  McKinley,  and  all  tariff  hills,  the  silver  bill, 
on  the  authority  of  which  the  silver  dollar  in  your  pocket 
v  as  coined,  the  anti  -  Chinese,  and  all 
similar  laws  of  the  United  States.  ha\e, 
in  their  early  stages,  half  a  dozen  dif- 
ferent   forms,  but   when    engrossed    and 
.signed    they    have    one    unchangeable 
form  that  has  obtained  ever  since  the 
lirst    law  was  passed  by  the  First  Con- 
gress. 

"I  remember  having  seen  in  one  of 
your  Ivoiind  Table  puzzles  a  question 
about  the  •  Father  of  the  Greenback.' 
The  first  draught  of  the  law,  which  gave 
Mr.  Chase  this  nickname,  was  written  by 
Congressman  Spalding,  of  the  Buffalo, 
Ne\\  York,  district,  on  both  sides  of 
four  sheets  of  common  legal  cap  paper. 
Mr.  Chase  then  made  some  changes  in 
it.  using  red  ink.  President  Lincoln 
suggested  some  additional  changes, 
making  his  notes  on  a  slip  of  paper, 
which  he  pinned  to  one  of  the  sin  THE 


"  But  that  was  before  the  day  of  type-writing  machines. 
Nowadays  lirst  draughts  of  most  bills  are  prepared  on  type- 
writers.'  In  this  form  a  bill  is  introduced  into  Congress, 
read  by  the  clerk  by  title,  :i  number  is  given  to  it,  and  it  is 
re  lei  red  to  the  committee  having  in  charge  the  business  to 
which  it  relates.  Once  in  committee,  it  is  ordered  printed, 
and  the  first  draught, often  bearing  the  compositor's  marks, 
may  be  returned  to  the  author  of  the  measure  as  a  souve- 
nir. At  least  the  first  draught  of  the  legal-tender  act, 
bearing  Mr.  Chase's  and  Mr.  Lincoln's  sug- 
gestions about  changes,  was  returned  to 
Mr.  Spaldiug,  and  by  him  kindly  .shown  to 
me. 

"  Great  measures,  such  as  the  Wilson, 
the  McKinley,  and  the  seigniorage  bills, 
are  changed  many  times  before  they  are 
[iassc'd  by  ( 'ongress,  and  each  change  means 
new  printed  copies.  Some  of  these  copies 
are  printed  on  paper  about  the  size  of  a 
HARPER'S  UurxD  TABLE  leaf.  The  type 
is  very  large,  and  the  lines  are  very  wide 
apart  and  numbered.  Other  printed  cop- 
ies are  in  the  form  of  a  pamphlet,  in  order 
that  they  may  be  mailed  to  friends  of  the 
member  whose  measure  it  is,  and  to  men 
whose  business  is  likely  to  be  affected. 

"Only  a  very  small  fraction  of  the  bills 
that  reach   the   pamphlet  stage    are   ever 
filially  passed  and  become  laws.     But  even 
this  small  fraction  is  large  enough  to  fill 
many  shelves  in   the   State   Department, 
where  originals  of  all  laws  are  kept.     The 
originals  are  engrossed  on  parchment  that  is  fourteen  1>\ 
nineteen  inches  in  size,  and  bound  into  book  form.     The 
penmanship  is  coarse,  but  very  regular,  and  all  of  the  sig- 
natures are  originals,  not  copies,  because  this  form  of  the 
law   is  the  one  that  all  copies  must  conform  to — the  one 
that    the   President   of   the    United   States   is    sworn    to 
execute. 

"But  let  Die  tell  you  just,  how  the  Sherman  silver-purchase 
law  looks.  You  remember  this  law.  Or  at  least  you  rec- 
ollect how  Congress  sat  in  extra  session  for  several  months 
of  1893  in  order  to  repeal  one  clause  of  it.  At  the  top  of 
the  large  parchment  sheet  there  is  a  printed  heading  : 

'  FIFTY-FIRST  CONGRESS   OF  THE    UNITED   STATES, 
AT  ITS   FIRST  SESSION, 

Begun  and  Held  in  the  City  of  Washington,'  etc. 
"  In  the  middle  of  the  line  are  these  words, 

A  OST     ACT  . 


MoKIXLEY ' 

628 


TARIFF    LAW-LAST    PAGE    WITH    SIGNATURES. 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TAJiLE 


THE    "SHERMAN"    .SILVER    LAW— TITLE    PAGE. 


"Immediately  thereafter  follows  tlic  writing,  winch  ex- 
tends in  a  single  line  across  the  entire  page.  It  describes 
the  bill  tlnis, '  Directing  the,  purchase  of  silver  bullion,  anil 
the  issue  of  Treasury  notes  thereon,  anil  for  other  purposes.' 
There  is  a  space,  and  then  follows  the  enacting  clause, '  Be 
it  eiiacted  by  the  Senate  anil  House  of  Representatives,' 
etc.  The  text  of  the  law,  written  in  this  large  hand,  tills 
two  and  a  half  pages,  the  right-band  page  containing  the 
text,  and  the  left-hand  page  being  blank.  Around  the  edge 
of  both  written  and  unwritten  pages  is  a  pale  red  line  or 
harder  rule. 

•'At  the  head  of  the  fiisfc  sheet,  and  written  over  the 
printed  title,  appears  the  name  'Kennedy,'  carelessly 
written  with  a  blue  pencil,  and  the  initials  '  C.  13.  F.' 
scrawled  across  the  top  iu  red.  These  are  the  attests  of 
the  Representative  and  Senator,  respectively,  who  examined 
this  engrossed  copy  of  the  law  before  it  had  been  sent  to 
the  President  for  his  signature,  to  make  certain  that  the 
engrossing  clerk  had  committed  no  errors,  and  that  this 
original  was  the  same  as  the  form  that  passed  Con- 
gress. 

"  At  about  the  middle  of  the  third  page  are  the  signatures 
of  the  presiding  officers  of  the  (Senate  and  House.  Vice- 
President  Morton  did  not  sign  the  original  Sherman  silver- 
pureliase  law  on  behalf  of  the  Senate,  bnt  Speaker  Reed 
did  on  behalf  of  the  House.  Senator  Ingalls,  as  President 
jini.  /cm.  of  the  Senate,  signed  on  behalf  of  that  body,  and 
when  he  had  affixed  his  name  he  thoughtfully  noted  in  the 
margin  the  hour  of  the  day — '12.37  P.M.'  The  signature 
of  President  Harrison  comes  last,  and  is 
at  the  lower  left-hand  side  of  the  paper. 

"The  original  McKinley  tariff  law  is 
written  on  parchment  similar  to  that  of 
the  Sherman  law,  and  like  it,  it  is  bound 
into  a  big  book  that  contains  the  origi- 
nal documents  of  many  other  laws.  It 
lills  sixty-three  of  these  large  parchment 
sheets,  and  the  engrossing  of  it  was  done 
by  three  different  clerks.  The  title  of  t  lie 
bill  is, 'An  Act  to  Reduce  the  Revenues 
and  to  Equalize  Duties.'  It  is  attested 
iu  the  same  manner  as  the  Sherman  law, 
and  signed  by  Speaker  Reed,  Vice-Presi- 
dent Morton,  and  President  Harrison. 
The  Wilson  bill,  which  supplants  the 
McKinley  bill,  fills  about  as  many  pages 
of  the  heavy  unruled  parchment,  which, 
by-the-way,  we  send  to  England  to  buy. 
The  Wilson  bill  mentions  almost  every 
article  of  commerce  that  one  can  think 
of,  grouping  similar  things  into  para- 
graphs, and  naming  the  duties  that  shall 
be  paid  upon  each.  There  is  a  long  list 
of  articles  on  which  there  is  no  duty.  THE  "SHERMAN 


"  Proclamations  by  the  President  of  the 
United  States  have  maintained  one  form 
since  the  foundation  of  the  government. 
The  original  Emancipation  Proclamation 
issued  by  President  Lincoln  is  written 
upon  very  heavy  white  unruled  paper  that 
is  folded  once.  The  fold  is  at  the  left, 
like  a  sheet  of  four-paged  letter-paper, 
and  each  page  is  ten  by  fourteen  inches  in 
size.  It  begins,  as  do  all  Presidential 
proclamations,  'By  the  President  of  the 
United  States  of  America — A  Proclama- 
tion.' 

The  first  line  is  written  with  a 
pen  in  a  bold  hand,  and  the  words, '  A 
Proclamation,'  form  a  line  of  them- 
selves —  printing  characters,  although 
executed  with  a  pen.  It  proclaims  that 
on  a  certain  date,  and  under  certain  con- 
ditions, a  race  is  free  from  bondage,  but 
it,  nowhere  calls  itself  an  'Emancipation 
Proclamation.'  That  is  a  popular  name 
given  to  this,  one  of  the  most  famous  of 
state  papers.  The  text  is  in  the  hand- 
writing of  Secretary  Seward  —  a  hand  that  was  strikingly 
like  that  of  Mr.  Lincoln. 

••  Thanksgiving  proclamations,  which  you  see  reprinted  in 
the  newspapers,  are  prepared  in  the  same  form.  The  one 
issued  by  President  Cleveland  last  autumn  tills  only  two 
pages. 

Our  reciprocity  treaty  with  the  Brazil  Republic  is  similar 
to  other  treaties,  with  original  and  exchange  copies,  and  is 
written  in  English  and  Spanish.  The  document  proclaim- 
ing it  begins  by  quoting  from  the  McKinley  law,  by  which 
it  is  authorized,  and  recites,  that  we,  having  agreed  to  let  in 
free  of  duty  sugar,  coffee,  molasses,  and  hides  from  Biazil, 
are  entitled  to  send  to  Brazil,  and  have  admitted  to  that 
country  free  of  duty,  a  long  line  of  products  of  the  United 
States. 

"  At  the  bottom  of  the  third  page — proclamations,  unlike 
laws,  are  written  on  both  sides  of  the  paper — is  the  Great 
Seal  of  the  United  States,  and  near  this  seal  is  the 
signature  of  President  Harrison,  preceded  by  the  words, 
'  By  the  President.'  At  the  left,  and  just  beneath  the 
great  seal,  is  the  signature  of  the  Secretary  of  State, 
James  G.  Elaine. 

"  Mr.  131aiue's  writing,  like  Mr.  Cleveland's,  was  small, 
regular,  and  easily  mistaken  for  a  feminine  one.  His  sig- 
nature to  this  reciprocity  proclamation  is  so  small  and  ef- 
feminate that  it  does  not  seem  to  stand  for  the  stalwart 
man  who  wrote  it.  Even  less  does  President  Cleve- 
land's womanlike  signature  hint  the  giant  iu  stature  that 
he  is." 


SILVER    LAW— LAST    PAGE    WITH    SIGNATURES. 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Thi.  I',ririi,i..,,t  is  c hi.-t.'.l  1,1  the,,,i,Ti~t.irsi,in,|,  ,ui,|  Coin  Collecton,  and  the  Edllnr 

will  V  fl-asc,!  M  -.ii-«>r  iinv  -pi. -n. ,11  .Hi  these  sul.jecu  so  far  as  possible.      Corres] li-nt- 

should  atldro-s  Kililor  Stam|>  llf|uirunfiit. 

LAST  WEKK  we  printed  an   illustration  of  the  different 
kinds  of  perforations.     This  week  we  illustrate  the 
scale  of  regular  perforations.    If  you  will  look  at  your  U.  S. 
stamps  of  the  1857  issue  you  will  see 
that  the  scale  is  ''perforated  15."  The 
1C    Baden  stamps  of  l-l>4  are  ••  perforated 
10."    To  nnd  the  scale  take  the  stamp 
'  *  and  lay  it  face  down  ward  on  the  scale, 
15    and  when   the  perforations   on   the 
14!  stamp  correspond  exactly  to  thus,    .: 
the  scale  you  have  the  required  scale 
14    of  perforations.     Take   the  common 
I3j  2c.  of  the   current  U.  S.    issue,  lay 
it  on  the  line  of  dots  marked  12  on 
the  scale,  and  you  will  nnd   it  just 

l-'l  (its.     By  moving  the  stamp  just  - 

half  the  distance  between  two  dots, 
and  placing  the  stamp  just  a  little 
Hi  below  the  row  of  white  dots,  you  will 
11    get  a  series  of  black  circles,  the  top 
of  which  is  made  by  the  row  of  white 
5  dots  on  the  scale,  and  the  bottom  by 
in    the  row  ofperforatious  on  the  stamp. 
This  is  a  very  important  matter,  as  a 
"  stamp   perforated    12^  may  be  very 
9    common   and  cost    little,   while  the 
same  stamp  perforated   15  may  be  a 
"'  very  rare  and  a  very  valuable  stamp, 
s    All  U.S.  stamps  since  1H61  are  per- 
forated.     One  of  the  chief  merits  of 
stamp-collecting  is  that  it  strength- 
T    ens  the  powers  of  observation  in  so 
c,  many  different  directions. 

Ciirins   OK   THE   "Bismarck  cele- 
,,    brat  ion  postal-card"  are  uow  on  sale 
with  the  dealers.     There  are  a  num- 
ber of  varieties,  some  printed  in  tint, 

it'i.i  itinii  >ize.s  are  de-  others  in  three  or  four  colors.    It  has 
established  whether  these 


SM!O!«  chained  iTthe  llot 


apace  between  the  two  ver- cards  were  good   for   postage  with- 
tical  white  Hues.  „„,  .„„   8taiup  ,„.„,,,.  affixed  or  |]lpt 


Tin:  OIIAXGE  SPECIAL  delivery  '.stamp  will  probably  lie  the 
most  valuable  of  this  class,  as  it  was  in  circulation  a  short 
time  only.  Some  of  the  previous  issues  can  still  lie  had  at 
the  smaller  post-oflicr>. 

IT  IS  HUMORED  that  the  SI  black  of  tin1  current  issue 
will  soon  be  printed  in  another  color.  Collectors  should 
-ii  lire  it  now. 

Till':  i. n. n  i  i  i  M  em-rent  issue  it  is  said  will  soon  be 
issued  with  the  "white  line"  triangles. 

MLI  \-. irnvK  s.  MAYMIL— Tin-  Mamp  you  have  is  probably  one  of  the 
first  l"i  iiriiiii-d  iin. In-  the  piv.-i.-nt  contract.  Host  collectors  consider  it 

a  clisliiirt  v.iriely. 

A\iv  I. IN. -.II.N  —  Yon   probably  have  the  3c.  rose  ot  1SC1.    The  pink  is 

.  nnd  "l  a  |.c-cniiai-  shade  on  a  bluish  ground. 

"'       •    '    u  >      «  — The  Tuscany  stamps  are  worth  30c.  for  tlie  one 
crazie,  l-Jr.  i,,r  ihe  two  crazie,  ISc.  tm-  the   six  crazio.     The  San  Marino 
-  nre  worth  toe     ;  d  50c,  reap. .  lively.    It  used  on  the  original  en- 
liroliahly  twice  as  much. 

(JiKiiMcir,  U.  Wn;,.  -f.m\i   are   collected  entire  only.    Cut 

Cnpi.'^   i];l\(.'   110 


E.  G.— 1  have  never  seen  the  3c.  embossed  stamp  mentioned  by  you 
Probably  it  is  blurred  in  printing.  The  German  stamp  is  a  local,  the 
Italian  a  revenue. 

J.  S.  GHKKN. — There  are  two  kinds  of  lOc.  Confederate  blue  which  are 
very  ci  mini'  m.  Stamp  dealers  sell  them  at  lOc.  and  25c.  respectively. 

A.  GCAM.— As  the  date  cannot  be  seen  on  the  coin  it  has  no  value  for 
collection  purposes. 

J  G.  \V.— There  is  no  25c.  Columbian.  The  stamp  you  mention  is 
twenty-live  centavns  Venezuela,  which  looks  just  TUe  the  Columbian 
issues. 

LAWKK:%OK.— Blood's  Despatch,  gold,  is  worth  from  $2  to  $3  if  on  the 
orijiinnl  leiiiT.  Boutou's  Rough  and  Heady  is  quoted  from  §5  to  $25  if 
on  original  envelope.  Boyd's  have  been  reprinted  and  affixed  to  old 
letters  so  much  that  genuine  copies  have  suffered  in  value. 

li.  JI.-KII.I.OP.— The  10.  green  U.  S.  1861  is  worth  6c.,  the  6c.  Lincolu  2c. 
the  one  shilling  English  15c.,  the  threepenny  English  Ic. 

PHILATUS. 


THE  OLD  STAGE-COACH.    , 

DIX(iY  and  old  nnd  worn, 
Battered  and  scratched  and  torn, 
Flapping  in  every  sudden  gust 
Doors  that  creaked  with  their  ancient  rust, 
So  it   stood  in   the  Burbank  shed — 
One  hundred  and  ten  years  old,  they  said — 
When  I  was  a  lad,  and  used  to  play 
"Driving  stage,"  at  the  close  of  day. 

Never  an  inch  did  the  old  wheels  stir; 

Rusted  fast  at  the  hubs  they  were. 

Yet  how  strong  were  niy  steeds,  and  fleet, 

Streaming  out  :neath  the  driver's  seat! 

Over  what  hills  and  plains  I  sped, 

Rocking  there  in  the  Burbank  shed! 

I'nifk!   and  the  leaders  sprang  away; 

Satin-sheened  in  their  coats  of  bay, 

Six  broad  backs  at  the  driver's  feet, 

Surging  into  the  village  street. 

Oh,  it   was  grand!     What  a  race  we  led! 

Though  the  stage  stood  still  in  the  Burbank  sbed. 

Ah!  the  fright  of  a  certain  day, 
Just  at  dusk,  in  the  mouth  of  May, 
When  I  climbed  to  the  creaking  door — 
Bolder,  surely,  than  e'er  before — 
Cning,  "Out   here,  you  ghosts — be  quick!" 
And  struck  the  seat  with  resounding  stick. 
Ha!  with  a  din  that  would  wake  the  dead 
Straight  there  sprang  at  my  shrinking  head 
Something  winged  and  as  white  as  snow  ! 
Down  I  sank  in  a  heap  below, 
While  with  cackle   of  loud   reproach 
Flew  a  hen  from  the  old  stage-coach, 
Leaving  there  on  the  tattered  seat 
Something  fit  for  a  king  to  eat! 

Long  ago  to  the  junkman's  store 

l.a*t  of  the  old  stage-coach  they  bore; 

Bolt  and  axle  and  rusty  tire 

All  were  mixed  in  the  forge's  fire. 

But  I  can  see  it  in  tattered  state 

Waiting  yet  for  its  ghostly  freight: 

l'o\\dered  sirs  with  their  shovel-hats, 

.•-lately  dauies  with  their  cloaks  and  mats; 

While,  to  the  box,  with  a  shivering  joy, 

Climbs  a  rosy-faced  country  boy ! 

i  Hi,  the  charm  of  the  Long  Ago, 

Youth's  Valhalla,  and  Fancy's  glow 

Lighting  many  a  dim  old  page 

With  such  a  relic  as  Bnrbank's   stage! 

Just  for  a  glimpse  of  its  chrome  and  red, 

Fading  there  in  the  ruined  shed  ! 

Just  for  an  hour  of  the  rare  old  play, 

"Driving  stage  "at  the  close  of  day  ! 

What  are  all  one  may  say  or  do 

To  what   he  ih't'itms  when  bis  life  is  new? 

JAMES  BUCKHAM. 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


THE   PROPER   USE  OF  A  SHOT-GUX. 

THOUGH  shooting,  like  many  other  sports,  can  be  a  very 
dangerous  amusement  for  boys — and  men,  too,  for  that 
matter — rthere  is  no  reason  why  boys  as  well  as  men  should 
not  learn  how  to  use  a  gnu,  and  get  much  amusement 
and  bene.it  out  of  hunting.  It  is  alia  question  of  learn- 
ing what  the  dangers  of  guuniug  are,  and  learning  how  to 
avoid  them.  Fire  is  a  dangerous  thing  in  its  way,  and  yet 
we  all  have  fires.  Gnuiiiug  is  no  more  dangerous,  if  care- 
fully taken  up,  and  a  boy  of  fifteen  or  sixteen  is  quite  old 
enough  to  learn  what  the  dangers  of  a  shot-gun  are,  to  re- 
spect them  and  avoid  them.  Naturally  any  parent,  espe- 
cially one  who  knows  nothing  about  rifles  or  shot-guns 
himself,  is  very  chary  about  letting  his  sou  go  off  alone 
with  one  on  his  shoulder,  and  it  is  quite  as  natural  for  his 
mother  to  think  she  has  seen  the  last  of  her  boy  as  he  dis- 
appears in  the  woods  on  his  first  sporting  expedition.  But 
there  is  really  no  other  reason  for  this  than  that  boys  are 
naturally  careless,  and  guns  can  be  dangerous  and  deadly 
if  treated  in  a  careless  manner. 

The  whole  secret  of  shooting  and  the  use  of  fire-arms 
can  be  stated  in  a  few  words:  Xertr,  untlcr  any  i-iri'iini- 
xtaiiccn.iiniiit  a  i/nn  tit  mill  nut',  irlictliei-  Jmidid  nr  not,  iclit'tltcr 
in  jiiiri*  in-  ready  for  iific.  If  it  is  never  pointed  at  any  one, 
it  cannot  very  well  kill  or  wound  any  one.  In  like  manner 
you  can  never  succeed  in  shooting  yourself  unless  you  have 
already  poiuted  the  muzzle  at  yourself.  I  have  seen  many 
a  crack  shot  and  old-time  sportsman  shudder  as  he  saw  a 
green  hand  hold  up  the  detached  barrel  of  a  shot-gun  while 
cleaning  it,  and  point  it  at  some  one.  Of  course  the  two 
steel  barrels  could  not  possibly  "go  off"  by  themselves, 
with  no  butt  and  no  cartridges,  and  the  sportsman  shud- 
ders only  because  he  dreads  the  greenhorn  who,  even  under 
such  circumstances,  allows  himself  to  get  into  the  habit  of 
putting  up  the  muzzles  in  such  a  position.  If  he  does  it 
at  home  while  cleaning  the  barrels,  he  may  do  it  out  in  the 
woods  some  day  when  the  barrel  is  attached  to  the  stock, 
and  perhaps  loaded  with  cartridges,  and  then  there  may 
really  be  danger  for  any  one  who  is  near  by. 

The  only  accidents  that  can  occur  if  the  muzzle  is  never 
poiuted  at  any  one  are,  first, the  bursting  of  the  gun  itself, 
which  is  unlikely,  unless  the  piece  is  badly  made,  cheap,  or 
very  old;  and  secondly,  the  presence  of  some  one  in  the 
woods  who  is  not  within  the  cognizance'  of  the  sportsman. 
As  I  say,  the  first  is  uncommon  nowadays  with  the  care- 
fully made  breech-loading  guns.  The  second  never  occurs 
if  the  sportsman  invariably  keeps  his  muzzle  pointed  tow- 
ard the  earth,  about  five  feet  or  less  in  advance  of  him,  and 
if,  when  he  does  fire,  he  makes  sure  what  he  is  firing  at 
and  where  his  shot  is  likely  to  go  after  firing. 

A  good  sportsman  is  familiar  with  his  piece,  and  brave 
enough  to  be  afraid  of  it.  From  the  time  he  takes  it  out 
•of  the  case  the  muzzle  of  the  barrels  is  on  his  mind  until 
he  has  taken  it  to  pieces,  cleaned  it,  and  put  it  away  in  his 
case.  When  he  starts  out  in  the  morning,  he  takes  out  the 
barrels,  and  pointing  them  towards  the  earth  as  he  holds 
them  in  his  left  hand,  he  springs  the  stock  into  its  place 
with  his  right.  Then  having  fixed  on  the  little  piece  of 
wood  which  clinches  the  two  parts  together,  he  passes  his 
right  arm  around  the  barrels,  so  that  as  he  carries  it  the 
stock  points  up  and  behind  him  at  an  angle  of  about  forty- 
five  degrees,  and  the  barrels  point  down  toward  the  earth  at 
a  similar  angle  in  front  of  him.  Around  his  waist  or  in  his 
poi-ki-ts  he  carries  cartridges.  No  charge  goes  into  his  gun 
until  he  has  not  only  left  the  house  but  actually  arrived  on 
the  grounds  where  he  expects  to  find  game.  If  he  has  to  drive 
to  the  proper  woods  or  the  shooting-stands  or  blinds,  lie 
places  the  piece  in  the  bottom  of  the  wagon,  pointing  out 
towards  the  rear,  never  once  allowing  it  to  point  towards 
himself  or  any  one  else  who  may  be  standing  by.  If  he  is  near 
enough  to  the  woods  or  shore  to  walk  he  carries  the  gun  as 
described,  unloaded,  until  he  reaches  the  proper  place. 
When  climbing  over  fences,  whether  with  cartridges  in 
place  or  not,  he  places  the  gun  under  the  fence  flat  on  the 
ground,  climbs  over  or  under,  and  then  picks  it  up  from  the 
other  side.  Resting  a  shooting-piece  against  a  fence  or 
wall  in  an  upright  position  shows  the  greenhorn  or  the 


careless  and  therefore  poor  sportsman.  The  fence  may  be 
rickety,  or  the  stones  on  the  wall  easily  detached.  In 
either  case  it  only  takes  a  little  jarring  to  cause  the  shot- 
gun to  slide  one  way  or  the  other  and  fall  to  the  ground, 
and  in  doing  so  it  may  very  easily  go  oft'.  If  it  is  unloaded 
this  would,  of  course,  do  no  harm.  But  if  it  is  never  al- 
lowed to  get  into  the  position  where  it  may  so  slide,  it  cer- 
tainly cau  never  go  off,  loaded  or  unloaded.  In  other 
•words,  form  the  habit  of  never  giving  a  gnu  the  chance  of 
sliding  or  going  off,  and  then  you  can  never  have  an  acci- 
dent. This  is  not  a  sign  of  timidity,  and  you  would  soon 
realize  it  if  you  could  see  how  carefully  some  famous  old 
sportsman  who  is  a  friend  of  your  father's  handles  his  tiring- 
piece. 

On   arriving   finally  at  the  particular  woods  you  have 

.  planned  to  cover,  or  the  "  blinds"  which  you  are  going  to 

lie  in,  put  in  the  charges,  and  then  all  is  ready  for  the  sport. 

Most  of  the  danger  after  this  stage  of  the  proceedings 
has  been  reached  is  again  only  through  carelessness  or  ex- 
citement over  the  sport,  which  is  only  another  word  for 
carelessness.  For  example,  you  are  in  the  woods  and  a 
bird  flies  out  among  the  branches.  In  your  excitement  at 
the  sudden  flush  of  the  partridge  you  throw  up  your  gnu 
and  "blaze  away,"  forgetting  that  the  other  man  with  you 
is  just  ahead.  That  is  rank  carelessness.  For  no  two 
sportsmen  ever  lose  track  of  each  other.  If  they  happen 
to  be  out  of  sight  of  each  other,  and  within  range,  they 
keep  up  a  constant  conversation,  or  call  to  each  other  con- 
tinually, so  that  from  moment  to  moment  each  knows 
where  the  other  is.  Again,  when  two  men  are  standing 
close  beside  each  other  and  a  covey  jumps  up  under  their 
guns,  there  has  to  be  a  quick  swing  to  right  or  left.  Usu- 
ally, under  these  circumstances,  the  man  on  the  right  takes 
'  the  right-hand  shot,  and  the  one  on  the  left  takes  the  left- 
hand  shot.  If  the  right-hand  man  swings  to  the  left  he 
may  very  easily  bring  his  friend  in  the  line  of  his  muzzle. 

As  regards  the  half  and  full  cock  of  the  hammers,  there 
is  one  safe  rule  to  follow.  When  on  the  actual  ground, 
and  following  dogs  on  the  scent  or  pointing,  the  gun  must, 
of  course,  be  at  full  cock.  But  whenever  a  fence  is  to  be 
climbed,  or  a  bad  bit  of  close  underbrush  broken  through, 
the  hammers  should  be  dropped  carefully  to  half  cock,  or, 
if  the  gnu  is  hair.merless,  the  half-cock  trigger  should  be 
sprung. 

In  all  this  the  important  point  is  that  every  man  or  boy, 
whilo  carrying  a  shooting-piece,  should  have  his  mind  on 
what  he  is  doing,  and  should  never  for  a  moment  lose  his 
head.  It  is  far  better  to  lose  a  shot  than  to  hit  a  friend 
or  take  the  slightest  chance  of  hitting  him.  On  the  other 
hand,  if  a  boy  thinks  the  matter  over  and  follows  out  these 
rules,  there  is  not  the  least  danger  ill  his  owning  and  using 
a  shot-gun,  and  the  amount  of  exercise  to  both  brain  and 
body  which  he  can  get  out  of  it  is  astonishing.  When 
yon  begin  you  need  your  father's  advice  as  to  the  proper 
way  of  holding  the  gun,  taking  aim,  and  bringing  down 
the  game.  But  after  that  nothing  is  necessary  lint  your 
own  coolness,  presence  of  mind,  and  care. 

The  butt  should  come  up  quickly  and  firmly  to  the 
shoulder,  resting  against  the  shoulder  itself  rather  than 
the  biceps  or  top  of  the  arm,  and  you  should  acquire  the 
habit,  which  cau  only  come  with  practice,  of  getting  it  up 
quickly,  steadily,  and  firmly  the  first  time  in  the  right 
place.  Otherwise  the  "kicking"  may  be  severe  and  pain- 
ful. The  aim  should  be  taken  with  both  eyes  open,  though 
the  right  eye  does  the  aiming.  The  objection  to  sighting 
with  the  left  eye  closed  is  that  the  operation  of  closing  the 
left  eye  always  half  closes  the  right,  and  hence  makes  your 
sight  a  little  less  distinct  and  somewhat  unnatural.  This 
sighting  with  both  eyes  open  is  a  little  bewildering  at 
first,  hut  it  soon  becomes  natural,  and  the  whole  operation 
thru  becomes  :i  kind  of  second  nature.  For  quick  wood 
shots,  the  left  hand  should  hold  the  barrels  some  distance 
out  towards  the  muzzle,  the  left  arm  being  almost  extend- 
ed to  its  full  length,  while  the  right  arm  is  bent  up  short, 
the  right  elbow  stuck  out  in  a  nearly  horizontal  position 
to  the  cheek  hugging  the  stock.  At  the  same  time  stand 
firmly  on  the  feet,  and  do  not.  as  many  older  and  supp'>-e,i- 
ly  better  sometimes  do,  bend  the  knees  just  as  you  tire. 


631 


\Y1IEX    YOU    FIRST    BEGI.V,  YOU    NEED    YOUR    FATHER'S    ADVICE 
"TiiE  PROPER  USK  OF  A  SHOT-GcN,"  SEE  PAGE  631. 

632 


INTERSCHOEASTIC 


THE  SQUABBLE  WHICH  HAS  DISGRACED  the  close  of  the 
New  York  Interscholastic  baseball  season  was  as  undig- 
nified as  it  was  unnecessary,  and  it  has  surely  brought  no 
credit  to  the  Harvard  School  or  to  any  of  its  athletic  au- 
thorities. Knowing,  as  it  seems  they  all  did,  that  Ehrich 
was  absolutely  and  unequivocally  disqualified  from  compe- 
ting in  sports  held  under  the  rules  of  the  N.Y.I. S.A. A.,  he 
was  nevertheless  put  in  to  catch  in  the  most  important 
game  of  the  season.  Zizinia,  the  captain  of  the  Harvard 
team,  had  been  advised  to  substitute  Dillenback  if  Ehrich 
was  protested  on  the  field,  but  for  some  unexplained  rea- 
son, when  De  La  Salle  did  protest  him,  he  was  never- 
theless allowed  to  play.  This  was  a  bit  of  gross  misjiidg- 
inent,to  say  the  least,  and  has  resulted  in  Harvard  losing 
the  pennant,  which  might  have  been  won  with  Dilleuback 
behind  the  bat.  By  pursuing  this  course,  Harvard  School 
not  only  allowed  an  inferior  team  to  represent  the  N.Y.I.S. 
B.B.  League  at  Eastern  Park  on  June  8th,  thus  doing  an 
injustice  to  the  entire  association,  but  made  itself  liable  to 
expulsion  and  disgrace,  which  will  probably  only  be  avoid- 
ed because  of  the  personal  friendship  of  the  League  dele- 
gates for  the  Harvard  representatives.  As  for  the  unsports- 
manlike spirit  of  the  whole  performance,  perhaps  the  less 
said  about  it  the  better. 

THE  DE  LA  SALLE  NINE  is,  no  donbt,  inferior  both  in  field- 
ing and  batting  qualities  to  the  Harvard  team,  but  I  do  not 
believe  that  the  latter  would  Lave  made  a  much  better 
showing  against  the  strong  men  from  Garden  City  had  they 
met  them.  These  are  baseball-players,  and  no  mistake ; 
and  they  worked  just  as  hard  all  through  the  game  with 
De  La  Salle  as  if  they  were  not  having  a  "  merry -go-round," 
as  their  rooters  constantly  exclaimed.  It  certainly  was  a 
merry-go-round,  and  all  the  mirth  was  on  the  St.  Paul  side 
of  the  fence,  fora  poorer  exhibition  of  baseball-playing  has 
doubtless  seldom  been  seen  at  Eastern  Park  than  the  game 
put  up  by  the  representatives  of  the  New  York  Association. 
The  out-fielders  could  not  judge  the  easiest  of  flies,  and 
dropped  almost  every  ball  that  they  did  manage  to  get 
their  hands  on,  and  the  in-fielders  were  not  much  better. 


Baker, 
3db. 


Howard, 
Bub. 


Hall,  p. 
Mortimer,  s.s. 

ST.  PAUL'S,  GARDEX    CITY,  BASEBALL  NINE. 
Winners  of  the  Iiitev-City  Championship,  Eastern  Park,  Brooklyn,  June  8,  1895. 

633 


OAKLAND    HIGH-SCHOOL    ATHLETIC    TEAM, 
Champions  of  the  Academic  Athletic  League  of  the  Pacific  Coast. 

To  any  one  who  saw  the  game,  or  who  was  acquainted  with 
the  record  of  the  St.  Paul  nine,  it  was  not  surprising  that 
the  Garden  City  players  piled  up  thirty-five  runs  to  their 
opponents'  one,  or  that  they  made  twenty-six  base  hits, 
with  six  home  runs. 

THE  ST.  PAUL  NINE   have   played  thirteen   games  this 
season,  and  have  not  suffered  a  single  defeat.     They  have 
scored  179  runs  to  their  opponents'  51 ;  they  have  made  192 
hits  to  their  opponents'  69;  and  they  have  committed  only 
54  errors  to  their  opponents'  84.    Their  bat- 
ting and  fielding  averages  reckon  up  as  fol- 
lows : 

Batting.  Fielding. 

Hall,  p 407  .915 

S.  Starr,  c .371  .937 

E.  Starr,  1  1) 393  .948 

Foster,  21) 375  .893 

Baker.Sh 375  714 

Mortimer,  a.  s 333  .709 

Lum,  l.f 3GO  923 

Flippen,  c.  f 339  .813 

Goldsborough,  r.  f 378  .900 

It  is  evident  from  the  above  that  St.. 
Paul  had  a  hard-hitting  team,  aud  I  have 
no  doubt  the  fielding  averages — especially 
of  Baker,  Flippen,  and  Foster — would  have- 
been  higher  if  the  men  had  tried  to  make 
records  rather  than  to  accept  every  chance 
that  carne  their  way.  Hall's  pitching 
throughout  the  season  has  been  up  to  a. 
high,  standard,  and  his  fielding  has  been. 
excellent.  In  one  game  he  had  thirteen 
fielding  chances,  which  he  accepted  with- 
oiit  making  an  error.  Foster,  too,  has  done 
well,  and  has  spoiled  many  an  apparent 
base  hit.  Next  year  the  managers  of  this 
nine  should  seek  games  with  stronger  teams 
than  can  be  found  in  either  the  New  York 
or  the  Long  Island  leagues.  I  should  like 
to  see  them  play  Andover  or  Lawrence- 
ville.  The  latter  claim  they  cannot  find 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Event. 

Connecticut  H.-S.A.A.  Cames, 
Hartford,  June  B,  1895 

Western  Massachusetts  I.S.A.A.  Games- 
Amherst,  June  8,  1895. 

Worcester  Academies,  \ 

Phillips  Andover  and 
V.-rer-Irr,  June  8,1895. 

Performance. 

Winner. 

nance. 

Winner. 

Performance. 

Connor,  L. 
IK  IT.  L. 
Foster.  B.  Il.-s. 

liu-sott,  N.B. 

nuokniKliam,  B.II.-S. 
i:      er,  11. 

Fiolil.    11.11.  -S. 

Field,  II.II.-s, 

Bilker.   1. 
Siui-toMinl,  H.H.-S. 
<  '<.  imer,  L. 
Stnrtevant,  H.H.-S. 
Beck.  11 
Beck,  H. 

10  1-2  HOC. 
•.':'.  4-5    " 
53  1-2    " 
2  m.    7  1-5    " 
-  1-5    " 
7  "    173-5    " 
17  4-5    " 
26  1-2     " 
5  "   18  2-5    " 
5ft.    5          in. 
•jn  "      7  1-4     " 
9  "     S  1-2    " 
•111   "    HI 
•:;i;  ••      ^  1-2    " 

Coil,  II. 
Coit,  H. 
Perkins,  C. 
Thuyer,  H. 
Thayer,  H. 

Phillips,  M. 
Phillips,  M. 

Chism,  M. 
Uladwin,  W. 
Scott,  W. 
Chism,  M. 
Austin,  M. 

10  4-5  sec. 

•.'44-!)    " 
fi7  '2-5    " 
2m.  10  1-5    " 
5  "   55          " 

16  3-5    " 
294-5    " 

5  ft.    4  3-t  in. 
19  "      3 
10  "      1  1-2    " 

t»4  "      S          " 
*3!i  "      3          " 

Sargent,  W.  A. 
llnrkor,  \V.A. 
Fish,  W.A. 

Liiillij,  P.  A. 
1/iiriL'.  I'  A. 
Lockwonil,  \\'.A. 

iioit,  P.A. 

F.aikrr,  VV.A. 
riunpboli,  W.A. 
Edmonds,  W.A. 
Williams,  P.A. 
Johnson.  W.A. 
Holt,  P.A. 
Holt,  P.A. 

11  1-5  sec. 
232-5 
53  2-5 
2m.    7 
4  "    47  4-5 
8  "      3 
is  3-5 
28 
5  "    484-5 
S  ft.    5         i    . 
19  "      2 
10  "      2  1-2 
t!04  "      3  1-2 
*33  "      <J 

]  U                

AiimiKviATtoNS.—  Connecticut  H.-S.A.A.  :  L,  Holrlikis-  School,  Lnkevillo;  II.,  Hiilhonse   High -School.  NY\v  H:ivon  ;    II.II.-S.,  Hartford  High- 

Sch,,oi;  r..ll  -s  .  iidd  _-,.,„  ii  i  iiiuh-s.-i I;  II.  C.,  lliirttor.l  Classical  School;  N  B.,  Now  Urit.iin  High-School;  B.M.T.,  Bom-ilm.-m  M  mi  n  ill  Trniiiing- 

Soi i  ;   I:.,  I '.ui  kr  Icy  School,  Now  London.     Western  Mnssachiisetts  I.S.A.A.  :  M.,Monson;  H.,  Holyoke;  W.,Westfield ;  C. ,  Chiropoe ;  A.,  Amherst. 

Dual  Games:  P.A.,  Phillip's  Academy,  Andover;  W.A.,  Worcester  Academy,  t  12  lus.  '  ;<'•  Ihs. 


opponents  worthy  of  them  outside  the  colleges.  Perhaps 
(•null  11  t'ii\  o.-i n  give  them  good  practice. 

THE  MEN  SHOWN  in  the  picture  of  the  Oakland  High- 

sd I    Aililriio   Team   are   Cheek,  Jackson,  Jenks,  Gooch, 

Hotfniaii,  liuppy,  Russ,  McConnell,  Hanford,  Rosborongh, 
and  l)a\vson.  They  won  the  championship  of  the  A.A.L. 
tor  tin-  <>  II. -S.  at  tin-  la-it  two  Meld  mod  ings — March  16th 
anil  May  4th — and  most,  of  them  return  to  school  next  \car. 
W.  B.  Jackson,  the  mile  runner,  enters  the  L~ni\crsity  of 
California  this  fall,  and  if  that  entei -pi ising  college  sends  a 
team  to  Mott  Haven  next  spring,  Jackson  will-be  one  of 
its  members,  and  he  will  push  the  Eastern  cracks  in  the 
mile  run. 

A  MERE  ci.AM'i:  at  the  reports  of  the  three  interscholastic 
meets  held  in  New  England  a  week  ago  Saturday  will  dem- 
onstrate that  scholastic  sports,  in  spite  of  their  prominence 
and  excellence,  are  still  in  a  sort  of  "-go-as-you-please" 
state  of  perfection.  For  instance,  half  the  associations 

use  a  Hi-ll>.  ham- 
mer and  a  16-lb. 
shot,  whereas  the 

V-*>  other     half     use 

12-lb.  weights.  In 
some  instances, 
such  as  at  the 
Worcester  -  Artdo- 
ver  dual  game.-,. 
the  contestants 
put  a  ll!-ll>.  shot, 
but  threw, -i  12-1  b. 
hammer.  It  is 

7*  impossible          to 

make  a  compari- 
son of  relative 
efficiency  under 
such  conditions. 
Why  is  it  not  just 
as  easy  for  all  the 
schools  to  use  a 
16-lb.  hammer, 
and  thus  equalize 
thiugs  1  Then 
they  could  not 
only  compare 
their  own  rec- 
ords, but  they  could  see  in  what  relation  they  stand 
i"  coll,..;.' -men.  The  principal  argument  in  favor  of 
ilic  l-.'-lb.  shot  and  hammer  is  that,  school-boys  are  not 
strong  enough  to  use  the  heavier  weights.  This  does 
uot  seem  to  me  to  be  a  good  argument .  In  -cause  fully 
half  the  associations  use  the  16-lb.  hammer  and  shot,  ami 
there  are  no  reports  of  resultant  evil  effects.  Hesiilcs,  a 
school  athlete,  who  goes  in  for  those  events  is  usual  I  v  a  well- 
built,  and  muscular  boy,  who,  if  he  is  going  to  college,  will 
probably  continue  to  put  the  shot  and  throw  the  hammer. 
It  is  pure  nonsense,  therefore,  for  him  to  become  accustomed 
to  lighter  weights,- for  it  will  be  like  beginning  all  over 


F.  G.  BECK,  HILLIIOUSF.    HIGH-SCHOOL, 
NEW    HAVEN. 


again  for  him  when  he  enters  college  sports,  and  his  class- 
mate who  started  with  a  16-lb.  hammer  will  have  a  con- 
siderable advantage  over  him. 

Fou  SOME  TIME  I  have  wanted  to  speak  of  this  matter 
and  of  kindred  subjects,  but  as  I  have  not  space  enough  to 
go  into  it  fully  this  week,  I  shall  only  say  a  few  more 
words  to  start  those  interested  in  it  to  thinking.  The 
kindred  subjects  are  the  other  events  on  the  scholastic 
programmes.  Why  not  have  the  card  at  school  meetings 
identical  with  the  inter-collegiate  programme?  We  all 
know  that  there  are  too  many  events,  anyhow,  on  both 
cards,  and  I  am  glad  to  hear  that  next  year  the  colleges 
will  eliminate  the  mile  walk  and  the  bic\ch-  race.  The 
schools  cannot  do  better  than  follow  this  example,  and 
those  leagues  which  have  throwing  the  baseball,  standing 
high  jump,  standing  broad  jump,  and  other  acrobatic  feats 
on  their  lists  will  do  well  to  start  in  on  sweeping  reforms. 
There  is  nothing  athletic  about  throw  ing  I  he  baseball, espe- 
cially, and  it  certainly  is  not  a  picturesque  feature  of  any 
meeting. 

UNIFORMITY  is  A  GREAT  thing  in  any  branch  of  human 
endeavor,  and  the  sooner  we  can  attain  to  it  in  interscho- 
lastic sport  the  farther  advanced  we  shall  be.  The  forma- 
tion of  a  general  iuterscholastic  league,  such  as  I  spoke  of 
last  week,  will  be  of  gnat  service  in  that  very  direction; 
for  the  greater  association  would  adopt  a  definite  pro- 
gramme, and  all  of  the  schools  holding  membership  would 
have  to  accept  it,  and  would  no  doubt  be  delighted  to  do 
so.  I  am  glad  to  say  that  the  suggestion  of  forming  a 
u'ueial  league  has  been  favorably  received  by  many  en- 
thusiasts iu  iuterscholastic  sport,  and,  so  far  as  I  know,  has 
been  unfavorably  commented  on  by  no  one.  I  have  re- 
ceived, already,  several  letters  endorsing  the  scheme,  and 
the  only  point  so  far  on  which  my  cot  respondents  differ  is 
concerning  the  best  place  to  hold  the  annual  meeting.  Un- 
til representatives  from  all  sections  are  heard  from,  how- 
ever, it  will  be  impossible  to  say  what  the  preponderance 
of  opinion  really  is.  Mr.  Evert  Wendell  is  heartily  in 
favor  of  the  formation  of  a  joint  league.  In  his  letter  he 
says  that  such  a  thing  would  increase  the  interest  in  the 
subject  everywhere,  and  would  prove  a  great  success. 

CONTINUING,  HE  WRITES:  "The  only  part  of  it  of  which 
I  disapprove  is  the  holding  of  the  meeting  in  a  distinctly 
college  town.  The  interests  of  so  widely  representative 
an  iuterscholastic  meeting  must  be  so  diverse  that  it  would 
be  unwise,  for  many  reasons,  to  hold  it  in  a  town  identified 
only  with  one  of  them.  New  York  would  be  the  most 
central  place  for  it,  and,  to  my  mind,  the  most  advisable 
choice.  The  best  tracks  are  here,  the  best-known  officials 
are  here,  and  the  greatest  number  of  spectators  would 
doubtless  be  gathered  here.  The  Inter-collegiate  Associa- 
tion has  chosen  New  York  as  the  most  central  and  repre- 
sentative place  in  which  to  hold  its  annual  meeting,  ami 
tire  localities  of  the  various  associations  which  yon  propose 
to  have  constitute  members  of  the  new -school  athletic 
body  would  in  general  be  drawn  from  about  i  he  same  parts 


634 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


of  Hie  country  as  the  colleges  in  the  other 
urbanization.  So  have  the  meeting,  by  all 
means,  but  have  it  in  New  York." 


FOR  THE  FIFTH  TIME  SINCE  l^so  the  Hart- 
ford Puhlic  High-School  won  the  champion- 
ship of  the  Connecticut  High-School  A.  A. 
at  the  games  held  in  Charter  dak  Park, 
Hartford,  June  8th.  They  seorecl  ::-.',  points 
out  of  a  possible  112,  their  nearest  rival,  the 
Hotehkiss  School  of  Lakeville,  being  just 
ten  points  behind  them.  Some  very  gond 
performances  were  made,  and  eight  records 
were  broken,  and  if  it  had  not  been  for  a 
strong  wind  blowing  up  tlie  track  the  time 
in  the  sprints  might  in  many  cases  have 
been  better.  In  spite  of  the.  breeze,  how- 
ever, the  three  trial  heats  of  the  100  were 
run  iu  lOi  sec.,  Ill;-'  see.  .anil  10?  sec.,  respec- 
tively, and  the  linal  was  made  by  ('.inner  in 
10i  sec.  He  ran  a1  strong  race,  finishing  a 
yard  ahead  of  Dyer,  his  school-mate,  with 
Davenport  third.  Ingraham,  unfortunately. 
had  to  be  put  back  a  yard  at  the  line  for 
a  false  start,  and  could  not  overcome  the 
handicap.  Dyer  turned  the  tables  on  Con- 
ner in  the  220,  finishing  ahead  of  him.  It 
was  a  pretty  race,  all  the  contestants  run- 
ning in  one  heat,  the  track  being  sixty  yards 
wide.  Luce  proved  a  disappointment  for 
the  Hartford  High  -School  in  the  quarter 
by  going  to  pieces  in  the  last  half  of  the 
race  after  earning  a  good  lead  at  the  start. 
Consequently  Foster  passed  him.  and  took 
first  easily  in  53i  sec.  Luce  has  done  better 
than  52  in  practice,  and  may  leani  from  his 
experience  of  last  week  not  to  take  any 
chances  with  his  diet  on  the  eve  of  a  race. 

THE  HALF-MILE  RUN  was  one  of  the  most 
exciting  events  of  the  day.  The  runners 
kept  bunched  at  first,  but  soon  Bassett, 
Kearney,  and  Lawrence  plunged  ahead  of 
the  field,  each  one  struggling  for  the  lead. 
Bassett  and  Lawrence  ran  almost  abreast 
until  within  fifty  yards  of  the  finish,  when 
the  latter  "was  taken  with  a  cramp  in  the 
leg,  which  forced  him  to  third  place,  behind 
Kearney,  while  Bassett  crossed  the  line  in 
2  m.  7  J  sec.  This  time  would  certainly  have 
been  bettered  but  for  Lawrence's  misfor- 
tune, for  both  he  and  the  winner  have  done 
better  in  practice.  I  was  surprised  at 
Chapman's  defeat  in  the  mile,  for  I  think 
he  could  have  won  if  he  had  shown  more 
"sand."  He  led  until  within  sixty  yards 
of  the  finish,  when  Buckingham  passed  him. 
Then  he  gave  up,  and  straggled  in  second. 
The  high  hurdles  made  a  pretty  race  for 
two  Hartford  High-School  men  —  Field  and 
Cady.  Field  is  a  most  graceful  runner,  and 
he  scraped  the  sticks  in  flue  form,  with 
Cady  snapping  along  barely  a  yard  behind. 
The  time  was  comparatively  poor,  but  I  dare 
say  this  was  largely  due  to  Cady's  weak- 
ness, he  having  dislocated  his  shoulder  a 
few  weeks  before  the  race.  He  is  a  brother 
of  the  Yale  sprinter,  and  from  present  ap- 
pearances I  believe  he  will  do  better  than 
his  senior  when  he  gets  the  advantage  of 
college  methods  and  training.  The  im- 
provement over  his  last  year's  st\le  i-, 
marked.  He  came  iu  third  in  the  low  hur- 
dles, with  Field  again  in  the  lead. 

THE     FIFTEEN"     STAllTEliS    ill     the     IjicM'le 

event  kept  well  bundled  until  a  collision 
scattered  the  crowd  and  spoiled  things  for 


fonr  of  the  riders.  The  remainder  bunched 
again  and  pedalled  along  pretty  evenly,  un- 
til Steele,  Rutz,  and  Baker  forged  ahead  in 
the  stretch  and  finished  in  that  order.  The 
time, 5  min.  isj:  sec.,  is  excellent.  Another 
unusually  good  performance  at  the  Con- 
necticut  games  was  Butler's  winning  of  the' 
walk  in  7  iniii.  17|  sec.  He  forged  ahead  at 
the  start  with  such  a  rapid  gait  that  I  felt 
certain  he  must,  give  out  before  he  could 
cover  half  the  distance,  but  he  kept  it  up, 
and  finished  strong  fully  a  hundred  yards 
ahead  of  Tichboiirne.  St  nrtevaiit  and  Beck 
carried  otf  the  honors  iu  the  field  events, 

I  he  for r  winning  both  the  pole  vault  and 

the  high  jump,  breaking  the  record  in  each 
case.  He  is  only  seventeen  years  old,  but  he 
is  a  promising  man.  He  won  the  vault  at 
9  feet  t>  inches  without  ever  touching  the 
bar;  then  he  had  it  raised  to  9  feet  84- 
inches.  and  cleared  it  at  the  first  trial.  He 
could  have  gone  higher,  but  was  reserving 
his  force  for  the  jumps.  In  the  high,  he 
repeated  his  performance  of  the  vault  by 
winning  first  at  fj  feel  -II  inches,  then  by 
having  the  bar  raised  to  .">  feet  8  inches  and 
clearing  it  at  the  first  attempt.  In  taking 
both  the  hammer  and  the  shot  Beck  did 
excellent  work,  as  our  table  of  records  will 
show.  Both  weights  were  16  pounds,  and 
I  feel  confident  that,  he  can  make  a  better 


put  in  the  shot  when  not  competing  in  so 
many  events. 

IT  is  TO  BE  REGRETTED  THAT  the  Spring- 
field High-School  decided  not  to  enter  any 
team  at  the  Western  .Massachusetts  I.S.A.A. 
panics,  held  on  Pratt  Field,  Amherst ;  but  the 
meeting  was  most  successful,  and  Monson 
Academy  again  left  the'  field  a  victor.  The 
success  of  the  Monson  athletes  was  entirely 
due  to  their  careful  training,  and  to  the  sys- 
tematic way  and  the  earnestness  with  which 
the  men  went  intoevery  event.  I  have  heard 
many  plaints  to  the  effect  that,  Mon sou's  an- 
nual victory  in  the  shot  and  hammer  was  al- 
ways due  to  the  fact  that  her  repiesenta- 
lives  in  these  events  were  larger  men  than 
the  other  schools  could  produce.  That  ex- 
cuse cannot  hold  this  year,  for  both  O'Con- 
nor of  Holyoke  H.-S.,  and  Clark  of  Amherst 
H.-S.,  were  giants  alongside  of  Austin,  the 
Monson  shot  champion.  Considering  this 
was  the  Chicopee  High-School's  tirst  year  ill 
the  association,  her  representatives  did  re- 
markably well  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  they 
finished  fourth.  Aniherst  High  made  the 
lowest  score,  with  only  (j  points  to  her  credit, 
while  Chicopee  got  25,  and  Westtield,  next 
ahead  of  Chicopee,  only  scored  27.  The 
winning  score  of  Mousou  was  53  points. 
THE  GRADUATE. 


A-DVPCFtTISKINIKNTS. 


Highest  of  all  in  Leavening  Power. —  Latest  U.  S.  Gov't  Report 


Baking 
Powder 


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SENI>  for  Catalogue  of 
the  Musical  Iiist.ru-> 
im-ilt  you  think  -if  i.iiyinxr. 
Violins  rr)>:iirr<l  I'V  the 
<'rt'mon;i  System.  C.  STORY, 
2C  Ceutnil  Sr..  iJt^tun,  Mass. 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


BICYCLING 


This  Department  is  conducted  in  the  interest  of  Bicyclers,  nnd  the  Editor  will  he  pi 
answer  BUY  iiui-<*tmn  on  llu-  sultjtrt.     Our  inapt  and  tours  contain  much  valuable  rinti 
mulled  tV'iitn  I  he  official  m ftps  and  road-bonks  of  the  League  of  American  Wheelmen. 

L__     .U          T  4         »1T  .!.„     PJUn-     ™!ll      h~     -I.!.,.,.,.!      .„ 


f  the  work  beine  <t 
vith  membership  blanks 


by  the 
»nd  inforn 


.,  the  Ecli 

l'«r  HB  poss 


ill  be  ple 


lata  kindly 
Recog- 

ntsh 


Copyright,  1895,  by  Harper  &  Brothers. 


THE  ONLY  OTHER  really  good  ride  on  Long  Island  out  of 
Brooklyn,  besides  the  one  given  in  last  week's  issue  to 
Babylon,  is  over  the  same  route  as  already  described  to- 
Jamaica,  and  from  thence  as  on  the  Babylon  route,  on 
through  Hollis  and  Holliswood  Park.  Just  beyond  Hollis- 
wood Park  the  fork  is  reached  whose  right  leads  to  Baby- 
lon, and  whose  left  runs  out  over  the  plank-road  to  Jericho, 
and  thence  up  along  the  north  shore  of  Long  Island.  There 
are  almost  no  hills  along  the  entire  route  until  the  rider 
gets  up  to  the  north  shore  at  and  beyond  Huntington.  On 
taking  the  left  fork,  after  passing  Holliswood  Park,  the 
rider  gets  into  Queens,  continues  on  through  Floral  Park, 
Hyde  Park,  and  Mineola  straight  out  to  Jericho,  on  a  re- 
markably good  road  for  Long  Island,  and  a  creditable  road 
for  any  country.  Jericho  is  practically  the  end  of  this- 
plank-road.  After  leaving  Jamaica  and  passing  by  ihe 
toll-gate,  the  rider  may  to  advantage  take  to  the  side  paths,, 
for  these  will  give  him  considerable  help;  but  complaints, 
against  bicyclists  have  grown  so  numerous  of  late,  and 
there  is  so  much  danger  that  severe  legislation  will  be 
pushed  against  bicyclists,  that  every  one  is  urged  never  to. 
ride  on  side  paths  or  sidewalks  within  the  limits  of  a  vil- 
lage or  a  thickly  populated  towu. 

TliEliE  ARE  SEVERAL  KOADS  which  may  be  taken  out  of 
Jericho.  One  of  these  is  to  turn  right  from  Jericho  ami 
go  on  southward  to  Hicksville  (and  turn  at  the  bottom  of 
the  hill),  about  a  mile  beyond,  near  the  edge  of  the  plain. 
Take  the  left  fork  and  continue  on  this  until  the  railroad 
is  crossed.  After  crossing  the  railroad  turn  left,  and  keep- 
to  this  road  until  the  railroad  is  again  crossed,  when  a  turn 
to  the  right  should  be  made  at  the  next,  fork,  and  the  rider 
will  soon  run  into  Farmingdale.  Running  through  Farm- 
iugdale,  and  turning  sharp  to  the  right  at  the  next  cross- 
roads, the  wheelman  crosses  the  tracks  and  runs  to  the- 
Holycross  Mission-House,  two  miles  away,  turns  sharp  to- 
the  right,  a  little  beyond,  and  runs  into  Amityville,  three 
miles  further  on.  The  road  is  good,  and  the  side  paths  may 
be  taken  here  to  advantage  also.  After  leaving  Amity- 
ville, cross  the  railroad,  and  turn  to  the  left  to  ihe  shore 
road  on  the  south  shore  of  Long  Island.  A  turn  to  the  left 
carries  the  rider  !nto  Babylon,  and  he  may  here  rest,  and 
run  back  to  Brooklyn  by  the  route  described  last  week. 

ANOTHER  RUN,  and  the  one  marked  on  the  map  accom- 
panying the  Department  this  week,  is  to  continue  on  front 
Jericho  until  theturning  to  the  right  is  reached,  and  then  the 
wheelman  can  run  up  to  the  north  shore  through  Him  ting  ton 
to  North  port.  There  should  be  a  turn  made  to  the  left  at 
Jericho,  and, after  a  short  distance, a  turn  to  the  right,  them-it 
crossing  the  railroad  track  after  passing  Locust  Grove  and 
running  into  Syosset.  The  road  is  somewhat  hilly  there, 
though  not  bad.  On  passing  the  station  the  wheelman  should 
turn  right  and  take  the-  next,  turn  to  Ihe  left.  It  will  bring 
him  into  Cold  Spring.  Turning  right,  from  here  and  taking 
the  main  road  he  runs  on  three  miles  into  Hnntington  over  a 
somewhat  hilly  load  :  thence  the  lonte  is  direct  to  Centre- 
port  and  Northport,  a  little  over  five  miles  further  on, and 
the  rider  may  then  keep  on  along  the  north  shore  as  far  as- 
he  likes.  Hunting-ton,  however,  makes  thirty  three  or  fm.r 
miles,  which  is  enough  for  an  ordinary  bicyclist,  w  ho  would 
naturally  return  by  train,  or,  if  the  return  route  be  made 
in  the  same  day, sixty-five  to  seventy  miles  would  be  cov- 
ered. 

NOTE. — Map  ot  Nrw  Y'oik  riiy  asphalted  sheets  in  No.  809.  Map  of 
route  from  New  York  !o  Tai  i >  i..\vn  in  No.  810.  New  York  to  Stamford, 
Connecticut,  in  No.  Sll.  NYw  York  lo  Xtati-n  Island  in  No.  812.  New 
Jersey  from  Hobnkeii  to  Pine  Brook  in  No.  813.  Brooklyn  in  No.  S14. 
Brooklyn  to  Bal>ylon,S15. 

636 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


IF  THE  RETURN  TRIP  be  made,  it  is  pos- 
sible to  take  :i  pleasant  run  out  to  Glen 
Cove  by  keeping  to  the  road  after  nussini; 
•(going  west)  Cold  Spring.  The  run  tlieu 
will  be  through  Laurelton,  Oyster  Bay,  Bay- 
ville,  Locust  Valley,  into  Glen  Cove,  and  the 
road  can  then  be  followed  without  difficulty. 
From  Glen  Cove  it  is  somewhat  hilly.  There 
is  a  pretty  run  through  Greenville,  Roslyn, 
back  to  plank  road  at  Mineola.  This  return 
detour  adds  three  or  four  miles,  but  makes 
a  variety  in  the  road. 


Any  questions  in  re 
answered  by  the  editor  of  thi 
from  HIIV  of  our  club  who  ca 


photograph  matters  will  be  willingly 
n.aiid  we  should  be  glad  to  hear 

hel|.l\il  suggestions. 


PAPERS  FOR  BEGINNERS,  NO.  4. 

HOME-MADE    APPARATUS. 
A  DARK-ltOOM  LANTERN. 

A  WOODEN  starch-box  can  be  made  into 
a  good  daik-room  lantern  with  very 
little  trouble.  Across  the  cover  at  each  end 
nail  a  thin  strip  of  wood  an  inch  wide.  In 
the  centre  of  the  cover  cut  a  hole  4  by  6 
inches,  and  over  this  paste  two  thicknesses 
•of  yellow  post-office  paper.  The  strips  of 
wood  are  to  prevent  the  cover  splitting. 
For  the  chimney,  remove  the  bottom  from  a 
round  tin  spice-box,  and  in  one  end  of  the 
box  cut  slashes  an  inch  in  depth  and  half 
an  inch  apart.  In  one  end  of  the  wooden 
box  cut  a  hole  into  which  this  tin  shall  tit 
snugly.  Slip  it  into  the  hole  as  far  as  the 
slashes  are  cut  in  the  tin,  turn  the  piece  of 
tin  back  against  the  wood,  and  I'asten  them 
with  small  brads  or  tacks.  For  the  cover- 
ing of  the  chimney,  to  prevent  the  escape 
of  white  light,  take  an  empty  tin  fruit  or 
vegetable  can — the  cans  used  for  corn  are 
the  best  size — cut  slashes  in  the  tin  the 
same  as  in  the  small  can,  and  above  these 
slashes  for  about  two  inches  puncture 'the 
tin  full  of  holes.  Turn  back  these  pieces  of 
tin  at  right  angles,  place  it  over  the  chim- 
ney, aiid  tack  it  in  several  places  to  the 
box.  This  arrangement  will  allow  plenty 
of  air  to  enter  for  ventilation,  but  no  white 
light  will  escape.  For  a  light  get  a  small 
brass  candlestick  like  those  used  for  camp- 
ing, and  use  adamantine  candles. 

A   NEGATIVE   WASHING   HACK. 

If  one  has  an  old  washboard  half  the  work 
of  making  a  negative  rack  is  already  done. 
From  the  washboard  cut  two  strips  seven 
inches  long  and  three  inches  wide.  The 
strips  must  be  cut  so  that  the  corruga- 
tions go  across,  instead  of  lengthwise,  the 
strips.  These  two  pieces  are  for  the  sides 
of  the  rack.  Now  take  four  pieces  of  wood 
six  inches  long  and  about  an  inch  square, 
and  nail  a  piece  to  the  end  of  each  strip  so 
that  they  project  an  inch  beyond  the  strip 
at  one  edge  and  two  inches  the  other.  Fast- 
en these  two  side  pieces  together  by  nailing 
pieces  of  wood  from  one  of  the  ends  of  the 
projecting  sticks  to  the  one  opposite,  allow- 
ing just  space  enough  for  a  4  by  f>  plate  to 
slip  between  the  corrugated  zinc  as  they 
are  turned  in  toward  each  other.  On  the 
bottom  nail  a  thin  piece  of  board  to  the 


four  pieces  of  wood  on  which  the  plates  may 
rest  when  in  the  rack.  You  thus  have  a 
skeleton  box, grooved  on  the  inside,  which 
can  be  filled  with  plates;  and  when  neces- 
sary to  change  the  water  the  box  can  be 
lifted  out  of  the  pail  without  danger  of 
breaking  the  plates.  A  negative-box  costs 
from  $1  75  to  $5  00,  and  this  negative-box 
costs  but  half  an  hour  of  time. 

A    HYPO-THAY. 

A  tray  for  hypo  may  be  made  by  lining  a 
small  wooden  box  with  enamel  cloth.  Have 
the  cloth  a  little  larger  than  the  inside  of 
the  box ;  tit  it  smoothly,  and  fold  it  at  the 
corners,  instead  of  cutting  it;  turn  the  edges 
over  and  tack  in  a  few  places.  The  cloth 
for  a  box  8  by  10  costs  only  five  cents,  and 
will  last  a  long  time  if  rinsed  thoroughly 
each  time  after  using. 

A   PLATE-LIFTER. 

To  make  a  plate-lifter,  take  a  stiff  piece 
of  wire,  bend  it  exactly  in  the  centre,  and 
twist  the  halves  together  so  as  to  make 
a  loop.  Bend  over  the  ends  of  the  wire  a 
half-inch,  bending  them  far  enough  to  make 
a  sharp  angle,  and  with  the  ends  turned 
toward  each  other.  The  ends  of  the  wire 
should  be  a  little  less  than  four  inches 
apart,  so  that  wheu  the  hooked  ends  are 
slipped  over  a  4  by  5  plate  there  will  be 
enough  tension  to  hold  the  plate  without 
slipping.  This  lifter  is  as  useful  as  those 
bought  for  fifteen  or  twenty-five  cents,  and 
costs  nothing. 


ILL-TEMPERED  BABIES 

are  not  desirable  in  any  home.  Insufficient  nourish- 
ment produces  ill  temper.  Guard  against  fretful 
children  by  feeding  nutritious  and  digestible  food. 
The  Gail  Ben-den  Eagle  Brand  Condensed  Milk  is  the 
most  successful  of  all  infant  foods. — [Adv.'] 


Sparkle  and  vim. 
Full  of  good  health. 


Full  of  everything  good. 


Every  bottle  of 
this  great  effervescent 
temperance  beverage  is  a 
sparkling,  bubbling  fountain 
of  health — a  source  of  plea- 
sure, the  means  of  making 
you  feel  better  and  do  better. 
You  make  it  yourself  right 
at  home.  Get  the  genuine. 

THE  I  III-    E.  HIRES  CO..  Philadelphia. 


WALTER  BAKER  &  GO. 

The  Largest  Manufacturers  of 

PURE,  HIGH  GRADE 

COCOAS  and  CHOCOLATES 

On  thia  Continent,  have  received 

HIGHEST  AWARDS 

from  the  great 

Industrial  and  Food 

\      EXPOSITIONS 
A  IN  EUROPE  AND  AMERICA. 

Caution:   n?anyieTmhrftiJn1 

of  the  labels  and  wrappers  on  our 
pood.,,  consumers  should  make  fcure 
that  our  place  of  manufacture, 
namely.  Dorchester,  Maa*., 
IB  printed  on  each  package. 

SOLD  BY  GROCERS  EVERYWHERE. 


WALTER  BAKER  &  CO.,  DORCHESTER,  MASS. 


S 


Corset   I 
Sense    I 

It's  the  business  of  the  £ 

corset  to  fit  — that's  what  fc 

it's  for  —  Dr.    Warner's  |- 
Corsets  always  do* 


OFFICIAL  ANNOUNCEMENT  °f  "^j™* 

CILLOTT'S  PENS  at  the  CHICAGO  IMPOSITION. 
AWARD  i  "  For  excellence  of  steel  used  in  their 
manufaeture.  It  bein^  line  tfraiju-d  and  elastic  ;  super- 
ior workmanship,  especially  shown  by  the  careful 
grinding  which  leaves  the  pens  free  from  defects.  The 
tempering  is  excellent  and  the  action  of  the  finished 
pens  perfect."  (Signed)  FRANZ  VOGT, 

(H.  I.  KIMBALL.  liutlvidualjwlae. 

Approved  :<        Pre\s7  Dgmrtmmtal  <'"mmittee. 
(JOHN  BOYl)  THACHER. 

L'ltairman  Exec.  Com.  on  Awards. 


Stnmps, 


t  KOO  fine  mixed  Victoria.  Cape  of  G. 

t  II.,  India.  UpEm.etc.,  with  fine  Stamp 
AU.uin.nn1y  1Of.  New  80- P.  Price  -  list  IVee. 
.-/i*«/j  wanted  at  AOf  coiiiiuissioii.  STANDARD 
STAMP  CO.,  4  Nicholson  Place.  St.  Louis.  Mo.  Old 
U.  S.  and  Confederate  Stamps  bought. 


100  all  <lit'.  Venezuela,  Uosta  Rica,  etc.,  only 
10c-;200all  dif.Huyti, Hawaii, etc., onlySOc. 
Ag'ts  wanted  luJiii  perct.com.  List  PRICE! 
t'.A.Stegnianii,2722Ead8Av.,St.Louis,lIo. 


var.,  all  dif.,  5c.;  12  var.   Heligoland, 

15c.;  6  var.  Italy,  185S  to  1S62,  5c.;  3  var. 

anover,  ftc.:  .Sftvar.  C\  American,  50c.  Agents  wauled. 
F.  W.  nil. I, Kit,  904  Olive  St.,  St.  Louis,  91o. 


VAR.  FREE  to  all  seuding  for  my  approval  sheets 
at  60%  dis.     C.  B.  ANTISDALE,  Palmyra,  N.   Y. 


r—tl  WONDER  CABINET  FREE.  MiMlng  Link 
[5-*  B  1 1'uizle,   Devil's   Bottle.   Pocket  Camera.  Ul«ir 
1  ^7  JWirePutile.    f5p,wk  Photos,  Book  of  BleiRht  of 
;'    f  Hand.  Taul  Value  tiOc.  Si!Dt  free  with  immenf>« 
^eatalopue  of  1000  HarpaiDB  f  or  lOc  forpoitn^e 
JIN(iERSOLLSBRO.,65Cortlandt  Street  N.  T. 


Harper's  Catalogue, 

Thoroughly  revised,  classified,  and  in- 
dexed, will  be  sent  by  mail  to  any  ad- 
dress on  receipt  of  ten  cents. 


637 


KAEPER'S   BOUND   TABLE 


At  Home  at  "Mona." 

We  reached  "in-  place.  "  Mi  ma,"  about  a  month 
,  i-  1,1  .,ur  own  unmans.  It's  about 
sixty  miles  from  "  Bound  Hills,"  where  we  first 
were.  Two  of  my  brothers  rode  over  on  their 
bicycles.  There  is  a  high  mountain,  called  Mount 
Diablo,  live  mih-s  up  and  three  down,  that  has  to 
be  climbed  and  descended.  There  are  two  fair 
hotels  on  lhe  road.  Between  them  is  a  small  vil- 
lage, called  Kw:irton,  where  we  passed  the  night 

The  scenery  all  along  the  road  is  lovely,  and 
when  you  get  in  anioiist  the  mountains  and  drive 
along  the  banks  of  the  Rio  Cobra  Kiver.  it  is  superb  ! 
On  all  sides  rise  I  hose  great  blue  mountains,  and  the 
river  rushes  and  roars  below  them,  and  everything 
beautiful  is  there.  The  railway  runs  beside  the 
mountains,  and  after  a  little  enters  a  tunnel  right 
through  the  heart  of  the  biggest  mountain.  The 
sky  is  the  loveliest  blue,  and  little  white  clouds  float 
in  it, big  vultures  sail  in  it,  and  tall  royal  palms  stand 
up  ag.-iin^t  it.  and  wave  their  great  fronds.  Pretty 
soon  you  get  out  of  all  this  and  into  a  Ions:,  hot, 
dusty  road,  the  bushes  on  each  side  of  which  are 
so  covered  with  dust  that  the  rain  cannot  clean 
tnem;  so  they  remain  dirty,  and  are  not  worth 
1. joking  at. 

The  hotel  in  Spanish  Town  is  one  of  the  best  in 
Jamaica— cool,  with  large  rooms  and  wide  veran- 
das. There  is  a  garden  in  front  of  it  with  a  thick 
royal  palm  in  the  middle.  Kingston  City  is  the 
hottest  place  on  the  island ;  but  we  are  higher  up, 
and  that  is  much  better,  though  in  summer  it  is 
none  too  cool.  I  should  like  correspondents  of  my 
own  age,  seventeen,  but  foreign  to  the  United 
States,  and  not  boys.  GWKNDOLEN  HAWTHORNE. 

Mo>*,  KI.SUSTO.V,  JAMAICA,  B.  W.  I. 


Those  Funny  Foxes. 

Some  time  ago  we  offered  a  hound  volume  of  a 
former  year  of  this  periodical  for  the  funniest  pic- 
ture or  pictures  of  a  fox.  Permission  was  given  to 
take  any  sort  of  liberty  with  Sir  Reynard,  but  the 


Another  is  the  William  D.  Moffatt  Chapter,  of  Oak- 
land, Md.,  a  third  is  the  Whittier  Library  Chapter, 
of  .Milwaukee,  Wis.,  and  a  fourth  is  the  Eugene  M. 
Camp  Chapter,  of  Brooklyn,  N.  Y.  A  society  in 
Stillwater,  Minn  ,  wants  to  send  one,  and  the  Thad- 
deus  Stevens  Chapter,  of  Philadelphia,  who  lias 
lost  by  deatli  the  Knight  who  founded  it,  may  give  a 
stone  as  a  memorial. 

The  face  of  each  stone  would  bear  the  letters, 
as  :  "  \V.  D.  Moffatt  Chapter,  Oakland,  Md.,"  or, 
"In  Slemoriam:  R.  K.  McCulIough."  It  would  be 
ideal  to  have  enough  of  these  memorials  for  the 
entire  base-line,  so  that  a  person  walking  round 
the  building  could  read  the  name  of  many  Chapters 
from  many  States.  Can't  you  help?  Ask  your  Sun- 
day-school  class  about  it,  or  propose  it  at  your 
Chapter  meeting. 

With  each  stone  some  contribution  should  be 
made.  It  was  suggested  that  at  least  $5  should  be 
given  to  the  Fund ;  but  perhaps  it  will  be  as  well 
to  allow  donors  of  stones  to  give  any  amount  they 
are  able  to.  Suppose,  this  summer,  you  give  an 
entertainment  on  the  lawn.  We  can  furnish  ^n 
easily  arranged  programme.  You  can  clear  $10 
easily.  You  could  give  to  the  Fund  one  half  of  it, 
and  have  the  stone  dressed,  marked,  and  delivered 
for  the  other  half.  Several  Chapters  are  to  be 
represented.  Let's  have  more  of  them.  Write  to 
us  for  particulars. 


The  Decisions  of  the  Founders. 

The  flood  of  votes  from  Founders  shows  that  the 
original  members  of  the  Order  are  as  interested  as 
ever  in  its  welfare.  The  Order  is,  it  may  be  well 
to  explain,  conducted  by  its  members,  and  finally 
by  its  Founders,  who  vote  on  all  important  mat- 
ters. Three  questions  were  put  to  the  Founders. 
1.  Should  the  eighteen  -  year  age  limit  be  abol- 
ished? 2.  Should  there  be  a  new  membership  cer- 
tificate to  be  called  a  "Patent  "—a  patent  of-  noble 
chivalry?  3.  Should  the  Order  have  a  new  badger- 
On  the  first  question  very  sound  judgment  was 


condition  was  made  that  the  drawing  would  re- 
produce for  printing.  About  one  hundred  mem- 
bers tried  their  hands,  but  almost  all  sent  pencil 
sketches,  or  those  done  on  common  paper  in  com- 
mon ink.  Sueh  we  could  do  nothing  with,  though 
a  few  wei>-  quite  funny.  Here  is  the  best— the 
prize-winning  drawing.  The  series  was  made  by 
Beverly  S.  King. 


Memorial  Stones  in  the  School  Building. 

Recently  two  Founders  suggested  that  Chapters. 
ela--':~.  anil  individual  contributors  give  memorial 
stones  for  the  Round  Table  School  Building,  said 
stones  to  bear  the  names  of  the  giver.  The  thought 
was  to  have  as  many  States  represented  as  possi- 
ble. Another  Founder,  fearing  the  cost  of  trans- 
portation, and  that  so  many  different  colors  of 
stone  as  would,  of  course,  result,  wrote  to  say  that 
it  might  be  better  to  have  the  stones  made  at  a 
quarry  near  iiood  Will. 

The  suggestion  is  that  any  person,  old  or-young, 
a  Chapter,  a  class,  or  a  society  of  young  persons, 
furnish  these  memorial  stones  made  of  the  nni. 
lorn,  size  of  30  inches  long,  'n,  in.-hes  wide,  and  '.I 
iiK-h-s  thick  :  they  form  th-  bast-line  on  which  the 
brick  wall  i>*t s  Th'-y  thus  cmne  :i  few  feet  from 
the  ground,  where  they  may  hi-  easily  read.  Sev. 
eral  Chapters  ha  \  e  responded  already,  and  say  they 
are  ready  to  forward  memorials.  One  of  these  is 
the  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  Chapter,  of  Cincinnati. 


exercised,  we  think.  Indeed,  you  showed  a  keener 
insight  and  greater  breadth  than  we  expected. 
There  is  no  doubt  about  the  decision,  for  it  is  a 
three-to-one  one.  It  is  that  the  eighteen-year  age 
limit  be  retained;  but  once  a  member,  always  a 
member,  without  age  restriction.  That  is,  mem- 
bers do  not  cease  to  be  members  upon  reaching 
their  eighteenth  birthday. 

Founders  in  very  large  numbers  urge  the  admis- 
sion ot  persons  or  any  age,  upon  applicat  ion.  to  tie 
styled  not  Knights  and  Ladies, but  Patrons  ot  the 
Order.  We  think  this  a  happy  solution  of  the 
problem,  and  shall,  unless  we  hear  objection,  pro- 
vide a  Patron  Patent,  similar  in  design  to  the  mem- 
ber's patent. 

The  second  point  is  unanimously  agreed, and  so 
is  the  third,  save  that  many  ask  that  badge  i 
be  submitted.  To  this  we  agree,  and  will  submit 
the  same  as  soon  as  possible.  When  the  new  pat- 
ents and  badges  are  ready  we  will  announce  the 
fact,  and  old  members  may  have  new  Patents  by 
asking  for  them.  The  prices  of  the  new  b.nlL-'i^ 
cannot  be  told  until  the  design  is  selected  ;  but  an 
effort  will  be  made  to  have  one  at  ten  cents, 
and  one  in  gold  at  si  nii'-where  between  fifty  cents 
ami  SI-  So  many  new  readers  have  come  to  us 
lately,  that  as  early  as  we  can  find  space,  we  will 
print,  again  the  objects  of  the  Order,  how  to  join 
it.  the  story  of  the  Good  Will  School,  etc.  The 
onler  ii  to  have  some  splendid  prize  and  other 
offers  soon. 

638 


S>     IRtnfeS.     © 

No.  87.—  CHAUADE. 

A  worthy  foe:  a  trusty  friend,  the  safest  friend 
to  have, 

For  if  you  differ,  never  mind,  no  danger  is  to 
brave. 

A  friend  so  easily  shut  up,  so  readily  put  down, 

Can  give  no  cause  for  sore  regret,  for  deep  re- 
morse to  drown. 

A  thing  almost  all  people  hate,  and  nervous  peo- 
ple fear. 

So  ugly,  that  to  naturalists  it  only  can  be  dear. 

Yet  when  that  hateful  stage  is  past  it  lives  its 
little  hour, 

A  floating  gleam  of  beauty,  it  blossoms  like  a 
flower. 

The  very  happiest  life  on  earth,  I  do  believe,  is 
this, 

He  sits  and  lets  your  world  go  by,  and  his  own 
world  is  his ! 

And  if  he  does  no  good  at  all,  he  surely  does  no 
harm. 

And  science,  wisdom,  wit,  and  song,  fill  ail  his 
ilavs  with  charm. 

Possibly  'tis  an  idle  life,  only  a  life  of  ease, 

Or  worse  than  all,  a  selfish  life,  but  don't  dis- 
turb him,  please ! 

No.  88.— A  STUDY  IN  CATS. 

1.  A  list  of  numerous  things  of  worth. 

2.  An  inundation  of  the  earth. 

3.  A  kind  of  useful  fishing-boat. 

4-5.  Some  helps  to  sailors  when  afloat. 

6.  A  mineral  used  for  making  soap. 

7.  A  transformation  of  a  trope. 

8.  The  parent  of  the  butterfly. 

9.  A  bad  affection  of  the  eye. 

10.  A  surgeon's  amputating  knife. 

11.  A  poultice  that  may  save  your  life. 
13.  A  book  that  should  be  ofteuer  read. 

13.  A  resting-place  for  honored  dead. 

14.  A  sepulchre  in  foreign  lauds. 

15.  A  cruel  whip  with  many  strands. 

16.  A  cataract  or  waterway. 

IT.  I  take  your  senses  quite  away. 

18.  A  spicy  sauce  to  use  with  meat. 

19.  A  class  of  workers  with  four  feet. 

20.  A  kind  of  ivy  often  found. 
21-22.  Sciences  of  reflected  sound. 

23.  A  heavy  armor  used  of  old. 

24.  The  doctrines  of  the  church,  I'm  told. 

25.  A  mineral  used  for  isinglass. 

26.  A  useful  herb  you  often  pass. 

27.  An  engine  used  for  throwing  stones. 

28.  A  remedy  for  broken  bones. 

29.  I  form  a  chain  of  many  links. 

30.  A  philosophic  list,  methinks. 

31.  Essential  to  the  violin. 

32.  I'm  noted  for  my  scaly  skin. 

*  *  * 

The  Prize  Story  Contest. 

Members  forget  that  it  takes  a  much  longer 
time  to  read  several  hundred  stories  and  weigh 
their  merits  than  it  does  to  examine  puzzle  an- 
swers. To  this  fact  is  due  the  necessary  delay 
over  our  last  Story  Competition.  But  the  deci- 
sions have  been  made,  and  the  First  Prize  Story, 
with  names  of  all  successful  contestants,  will  be 
announced  next  week. 

*  *  * 

TOlaut  Corner. 

Janet  Priest  writes  to  say  that  the  yell  of  the 
University  of  Minnesota  is  "Hah,  rah,  rah,  Ski  U- 
rnah— Varsity,  Var-ify  :  Minne-So-ta!"  and  the  col- 
ors old-gold  and  mamon.  Ralph  Cotter  and  others 
are  reminded  that  one  certificate  admits  to  all 
branches  of  the  Order.  The  new  certificates  will 
be  called  "  Patents  "  They  will  be  very  handsome. 
Due  notice  will  lie  given  when  they  are  ready,  and 
all  will  receive  who  ask  for  them.  Camera  prize 
offers  are  now  under  consideration.  M.  B.  Y. : 
Rose  Standish,  mentioned  by  Longfellow,  came  in 
the  Mayflower,  the  wife  of  Miles  Standish.  She  was 
of  English  stock,  but  we  can  find  little  about  her. 
ny  one  around  the  Table  know  of  her  early 
life?  She  died  of  famine  and  privation  in  the  next 
January  but  one  after  the  Pilgrims  landed.  It 
was  the  second  courtship  of  Miles  that  Longfellow 
describes. 


HARPER'S   HOUND   TABLE 


LARRY,  JACK,  AND  THE  BELLS. 

A  GOODLY  number  of  years  ago  there 
dwelt  iu  Ireland  two  brothers  whose 
names  were  Larry  and  Jack.  They  were 
witty  and  humorous,  and  played  many  a 
mad  prank  on  their  unsuspecting  neigh- 
bors. Now  it  seems  that  the  town  they 
'lived  in  had  iu  its  church  steeple  two  un- 
commonly large  bells,  and  the  clatter,  whrn 

rung,  was  a  source  of  auuoyauee  t any 

people.  Being  church  bells,  no  complaints 
were  made,  although  they  were  the  subject 
of  many  a  conversation. 

Larry  and  Jack  for  a  long  time  had  their 
eyes  and  minds  on  these  same  bells,  and 
iiually  they  decided  to  effectually  stop  the 
ringing  by  cutting  tin-  rope?,  oft  close  to  the 
clappers.  Accordingly  oue  night  they  ef- 
fected an  entrance  to  the  church  steeple, 
but  were  at  a  loss  how  to  reach  the  bells 
without  climbing  the  ropes, the  only  means 
of  communication.  This  they  finally  de- 
cided to  do,  but  first  they  piled  a  lot  of  pew- 
cushions  ou  the  floor  to  break  any  fall  that 
might  take  place.  Then  Larry,  throwing 
off  his  jacket,  grasped  one  of  the  ropes  and 
very  slowly  worked  his  way  up  to  the 
bells. 

It  was  either  stupidity  or  forgetfulness 
on  Larry's  part,  but  when  he  reached  the 
bells  he  whipped  out  his  knife  and  cut  the 
rope  close  to  the  bell  over  his  head.  Cou- 
sequeutly  down  came  poor  Larry,  striking 
the  cushions  with  a  sounding  thump.  It 
knocked  the  breath  out  of  him,  and  Jack 
thought  surely  the  fall  had  killed  him. 
Larry,  however,  quickly  put  him  at  ease  by 
crying  out :  "Faith,  Jack,  oi'm  all  right.  If 
it  \\asn't  in  a  church  oi  am,  oi'd  swear. 
Begoira  either  the  earth  struck  me,  or  oi 
struck  the  earth,  but  heavens  knows  we 
have  a  very  strong  attachment  for  each 
other." 

"Larry,  you're  stupid, me  boy  ;  yerhead  is 
as  thick  as  sour  cream.  Oi'll  show  yez  how 
to  manage  a  little  affair  loike  that,"  and 
Jack  commenced  climbing  the  other  rope. 
Now,  Lun y,"  In'  cried,  when  he  reached  the 
top,  "  watch  me  show  ye/,  how  to  do  it."  and, 
unlike  Larry,  he  cut  the  rope  from  under 
his  feet,  and  huug  there  dangling  without 
means  of  reaching  the  floor. 

Afraid  to  drop,  his  brother  was  forced  to 
seek  assistance  from  the  town,  and  for  a 
long  while  the  two  brothers  were  the  laugh 
of  the  county. 


A  SOLDIER'S  ANSWER. 


1  ^MPEROR  NAPOLEON,  after  oue  of  MS 
2l  Kreit  battles,  gathered  tlie  remnant  of 
liis  forces  around  him,  and  proceeded  to 
compliment  them  iu  his  characteristic  man- 
lier, so  endearing  to  the  hearts  of  his  M>1- 
diers.  Finally  Company  D,  of  the.  Guards, 
who  had  been  ill  the  thick  of  the  iij;ht,  wen- 
ordered  to  present  themselves,  and  to  the 
astonishment  of  the  Emperor  a  single  sol- 
dier appeared.  He  was  bound  up  iu  ban- 
dages, and  could  barely  walk. 

"Where  is  the  rest  of  your  company?" 
asked  the  Emperor. 

A  tear  welled  iu  the  old  soldier's  aye  as 
he  answered,  "  Your  Majesty,  they  lie  on  the 
field  dead,"  and  then  wofully  added,  "  They 
fought  better  than  I." 


IVORY  SOAP 


PURE 


When  you  pack  for  a  summer  outing,  do  not  forget  to  take  some 
Ivory  Soap.  You  will  enjoy  your  baths  the  more  for  not  having  to  use 
the  soap  furnished  by  the  hotel. 


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MONARCH 


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CARD 


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It. II.  Ingersoll &  Bro.  65  Cortlandt  tit.  -V  Y,  illy 


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Afloat   with    the    Flag 

By 

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AUTHOR    OF    "SEA     YARXS    FOR    BOYS,"  ETC. 

Illustrated.     Post  8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $i  25. 

A  good,  healthy  story,  attractively  written,  full  of  stirring  in- 
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Published  by  HARPER   &    BROTHERS,  New  York 

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639 


.  fat 


TWO   AMBITIOUS   CUBS. 


AN  EXPLANATION. 

MAMMA.  "  Willie, bow  did  that  caudle-grease  conie  to  get 
all  over  your  bureau  ?" 

WILLIE.  "I  suppose,  mamma,  it  was  because  it  couldn't 
..get  into  the  wick  to  bum  up." 


BOBBY'S  TROUBLE. 
I'M  generally  coutenter 

Tban  any  boy  I  kuow, 
I'm  satisfied  most  always 

Wbate'er  may  come  or  go. 
But  tbis  time  I'm  dissatisfied, 

A  most  peculiar  biz! 
There's  something  that  I  want  to  do, 

But  I  dou't  kuow  what  it  is. 


PHRENOLOGIST.  "  I  see  that  you  have  a  good  many  lumps 
•on  your  head;  they  all  mean  something." 

CHAULIE.  "  I  guess  they  do.  The  larger  oue  is  where 
Fred  Masou  struck  me  with  a  bat ;  the  oue  next  to  it  I  got 
from  falliug  down  the  stairs." 


MOTHER.  "  Jack,  what  are  you  goiug  to  do  with  the 
screw-driver?" 

JACK.  "  I'm  goiug  to  fasten  the  screw  which  Willie  Masou 
said  I  had  loose  this  morning." 

THE    STEAMBOAT. 
THK  steamboat  is  a  wagon ; 

On  wheels  it  runs  its  course. 
The  machinery's  the  harness, 

The  engine  is  the  horse. 

AN  EXTRAORDINARY  HAPPENING. 

"I  SAW  my  papa's  last  book  before  he  wrote  it,"  said 
Jimniieboy. 

"  How  did  that  happen  ?"  asked  the  visitor. 
"It  was  a  blank-book  then, "said  Jinnnieboy. 


BOBBY  (on  ferry-boat).  "I  kuow  why  the  river  is  so 

inrv  lo-cbiv." 

JACK.  "Why?" 

BOBBY.  ••  Because  it  is  crossed  soofteu." 


LOOKING  ON  THE  BRIGHT  SIDE. 

MAMMA.  "You  must  take  this  medicine  like  a  good  boy, 
Tommy ;  it  is  spring  medicine." 

TOMMY.  "All  right,  mamma,  if  it  will  only  make  the 
spring  coniv,  HO'S  I  cau  play  ball." 


UNCLE  JOHN.  "  Jimmie.  if  I  wriv  to  take  one  dollar  and 
-divide  it  into  four  parts,  and  give,  a,  quarter  to  each  of 
vour  brothers,  what  would  be  left  .''' 

JlMMIE.    "  1   would." 


AN  old  gentleman,  within  a  short  distance  of  the  grave, 
remarked  to  his  coachman,  "Alas,  James,  I  shall  shortly  go 
on  a  longer  journey  than  you  have  ever  driven  me." 

JAMES  (who  Jiad  often  l»-<n  Im-uM  for  revl;h-ns  driring). 
"Rest  easy,  master,  for  it's  a  journey  down  hill  all  the 
way." 

"I  DON'T  know  why  it  is,  Charlie,  but  you  are  always 
quarrelling.  I  dare  say  you  quarrel  with  yourself.'1 

"Can't  help  it;  every  oue  does  that  has  a  nose  and 
chin." 

"Why,  how  do  you  make  that  out?" 

"Words  always  pass  between  them,  you  know." 


LITTLE  fishy  in  the  brook, 

Went  out  oue  day  on  bis  own  hook, 

Despite  the  warning  of  his  mother. 

And  then,  alas, 

It  came  to  pass 

He  found  the  hook  of  Jinnuie's  brother, 
And  no  one  knows  where  he  is  at 
Since  he  went  whiskiug  oft'  on   that. 


i  ;  rsTLK.MAN.  "  Here  Pat,  pull  off  these  boots  of  mine." 
I  'A  i-  (lunkiiid  at  HIK  gaitlrmnn'e  extraordinary  large  foot). 
••  Sm,.  your  honor,  I'd  willingly  do  that  same  foryez,  but  it's 
beyond  me  power.    The  forks  of  the  road  below  here  might 
git  the  better  of  thim." 


A  CRITICISM. 
THE  baby's  picture  is  not  good, 

I  tell  you  plain  and  flat; 
Not  even  when  he's  eatiu'  food 

Is  be  as  still  as  that. 


"Diss  is  to-morrer,"  said  Russell,  as  he  waked  early  oue 

morning. 

"No,  it  ain't,"  said  Jimmieboy.     "  This  is  to-day.'1 
•  N<>.  •tain't."  said    Russell.     "Yesterday   was    to-day. 

Mamma  said  so,  and  she  said  last  night  when  1  waked  up 

it  would  be  to-niorrer.     Diss  i«  to-iuorrer." 


640 


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ROUND  TABLE 


Copyright,  1895,  by  HARPRR  &  BROTHERS.     All  Rights  Reserved. 


PUBLISHED    WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI. — NO.  817. 


NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY,  JUNE  25,  1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY 
TWO    DOLLARS   A    TEAR. 


OAKLEIGH. 


BY  ELLEN  DOUGLAS  DELAXD. 


CHAPTER     I. 

IT  was  a  large  house,  standing  well  back  from  the  broad 
highway  that  leads  from   Breutoii   to    IVlliain,  so  far 
back,  indeed,  and  at  the  end  of  such  a  long   shndy  drivt-, 
that  it  could  not  be  seeii  for  some  few  minutes  after  turn- 
ing iu  from  the  road. 

The  approach  was  pretty,  the  avenue  winding  through 
the  trees,  with  au  occasional  glimpse  of  tlie  meadows  be- 
yond. The  road  forked  where  the  trees  ended,  and  en- 
circled the  lawn,  or  the  "heater -piece "  as  the  family 
called  it,  it  being  iu  the  exact  shape  of  a  flat  iron.  The 


house  stood  on  high  ground,  and  there  were  uo  trees  very 
near. 

It  was  a  white  house,  with  given  blinds,  solid  and  sub- 
stantial looking.  The  roof  of  the  piazza  was  upheld  by 
tall  white  columns,  and  vines  growing  at  either  end  re- 
lieved the  bareness.  On  the  southern  side  of  the  house  a 
small  conservatory  had  been  added.  On  the  other  side  the 
ground  sloped  to  the  Charles  River,  though  in  summer  one 
could  see  ouly  the  water  from  the  upper  windows,  because 
of  the  trees  which  grew  so  thick  upon  the  banks. 

This  was  Oakleigh,the  home  of  the  Franklins,  so  nami  '1 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


because  of  a  giaut  oak-tree  winch  spread  its  huge  branches 
not  far  from  (lie  hack  of  lllc  house. 

As  to  tin-  Franklin*-.  1  here  were  live  of  them, and  they 
were  all  assembled  nn  the  front  porch. 

Tin, ugh  ii  was  the  last  day  of  April,  spring  was  unusually 
early  for  Massachusetts  this  year,  and  the  day  was  warm 
and  clear,  suggesting  summer  and  delightful  possibilities  of 
oul-door  fiui. 

Kdith,  the  eldest,  sat  wilh  her  work.  It  was  unusual 
work  for  a  girl  of  barely  sixteen.  A  large  olil-fashioned 
basket  was  on  the  floor  by  her  side,  with  piles  of  children's 
chillies  ill  it,  and  she  was  slowly  and  laboriously  darning  a 
slocking  o\  cr  a  china  egg. 

Tli<>  children  had  no  mother,  and  a  good  deal  devolved 
upon  Eiiiih. 

Jack  and  Cynthia,  the  twins,  came  next  in  age,  and  they 
were  just  fourteen.  They  looked  alike,  though  Jack  was 
much  the  taller  of  the  two,  and  his  hair  did  not  curl  so 
tightly  as  Cynthia's.  She  sat  on  the-  steps  of  the  piazza. 
Her  sailor  hat  was  cast  on  (he  ground  at  her  feet,  and  her 
pretty  golden-brown  hair  \\as.as  usual,  somewhat  awry. 

It  was  one  of  the  trials  of  Kdith's  life  that  Cynthia's  hair 
would  not  keep  smooth. 

Jack  lay  al  full  length  on  the  grass,  sometimes  flat  on 
his  back,  staring  al  the  sky.  sometimes  rolling  over,  the 
more  easily  to  address  his  sisters. 

Jack  had  a  project  in  his  mind,  and  was  very  much  iu 
earnest.  Cynthia,  of  course',  was  already  on  Ills  side — she 
had  known  of  it  from  the  tirst  moment  the  idea  popped  into 
his  head,  but  Edith  had  just  been  told,  and  she  needed  con- 
vincing. 

Janet  and  Willy,  "  the  children,"  were  playing  at  the 
other  end  of  the  porch.  They  were  only  six  and  live,  and 
(lid  not  count  in  the  family  discussions. 

"There's  money  in  it, I'm  sure,"  said  Jack;  "and  if  I  can 
only  get  father  to  agree  with  me  and  advance  sonic  money, 
1  can  pay  him  back  in  less  than  a  year." 

"Papa  hasn't  much  money  to  spare,  just  now,"  said  Edith, 
"and  1  have  always  heard  that  there  was  a  good  deal  of 
risk  about  raising  chickens  from  an  incubator." 

"My  dear  girl,"  returned  Jack,  with  an  air  of  lofty  au- 
thority, "  allow  me  to  say  that  yon  don't  know  much  about 
it.  I've  been  reading  upon  hens  for  two  days,  and  I  find 
that,  allowing  for  all  risks — bad  eggs,  inexperience,  weasels, 
and  skunks,  and  diseases.  \  on're  sure  to  make'  some  profit 
at  the  end  of  a  year.  Now,  I'm  late  in  thinking  of  it,  I 
know.  To-morrow  is  the  1st  of  May.  and  I  couldn't  yet 
more  than  three  hatches  this  summer,  but  that  would 
probably  pay  the  cost  of  tlir  incubator.  1  can  get  a  iirst- 
rate  one  for  forty  dollars,  and  I  can  buy  one 'brooder.'  If  I 
bought  OIIB  I  could  make  the  others  like  it." 

"But  your  eggs  ?"  said  Edith.  "  You  would  have  to  pay 
a  great  deal  for  eggs." 

"  Kggs  would  be  about  five  or  six  dollars  a  hundred,  and 
it  takes  two  hundred  to  till  the  machine.  I  should  want 
In  get  a  line  breed,  of  course  —  Brahmas,  or  Cochins,  or 
Leghorns,  probably,  and  they  cost  more  :  but,  you  see,  when 
they  begin  to  lav,  there  comes  my  monev  right  back  to 
me." 

"  Wheai  they  do,"  said  Edith,  sceptically. 

"  Edith,  don't  be  so  nn  an  !''  cried  Cynthia.  "Jack  wants 
to  begin  to  make  money,  and  I  think  he's  right.  I'm  go- 
ing to  help  him  all  I  can,  and  we  want  you  to  be  oil  our 
side  to  help  talk  over  papa.  He  is  always  telling  Jack 
that  he'll  soon  have  to  begin  to  work,  and  now  here's  a 
chance." 

"Papa  wants  Jack  to  make  some  money  to  help  support 
us  when  he  is  old  enough,  but  he  wants  him  to  finish  his 
education  first,  of  course.  And  I  am  sure  he  doesn't  want 
him  to  lay  out  a  lot  of  money,  as  lie  would  have  to  do  in 
raising  hens." 

"That's  just  like  a  girl,"  said  Jack,  scornfully.  "  Don't 
you  know  that  there's  always  a  lot  of  risk  ill  anything  you 
undertake,  and  you've  got  to  take  the  chances?  There  are 
very  few  tilings  you  don't  have  to  put  money  into." 

"Of  course,  for  a  grown  man.  But  a  boy  of  your  age 
ought  to  work  for  a  salary,  or  something  of  that  sort — riot 
go  investing." 


Cynthia  stirred  uneasily.  She  knew  this  was  just  the 
wrong  thing  to  say  to  Jack.  Unfortunately,  Edith  was 
so  apt  to  say  the  wrong  thing. 

.lack  sprang  to  his  feet.  "There's  no  use  arguing  with 
girls.  1  may  be  a  •  boy  of  my  age,'  but  I've  got  some  sense, 
and  I  knuw  there's  money  in  this.  I'm  not  going  to  say 
another  word  about  it  to  anybody  until  father  comes  home, 
anil  I  can  talk  it  over  with  him." 

And  Jack  walked  off  around  the  corner  of  the  house, 
whistling  to  Beu  and  Chester,  the  two  big  setters,  to  follow 
him,  which  they  did  wilh  joyful  alacrity. 

"There!"  exclaimed  Cynthia,  "now  he's  gone  off  mad.  I 
don't  see  why  you  said  that,  Edith." 

"Said  what?  I'm  sure  it  is  true.  The  idea  of  a  boy  of 
his  age — 

"There  you  go  again.  Jack  may  be  young,  but  he  is 
trying  awfully  hard  to  help  papa,  and  you  needn't  go  twit- 
ting him  about  his  age." 

"I'm  sure  I  never  meant  to  twit  him,"  said  Edith;  "ami 
I  think  he's  awfully  touchy.  But  it  is  half  past  four,  Cyn- 
thia, and  time  to  go  meet  papa.  Won't  you  be  sure  to 
brush  your  hair  and  put  on  a  fresh  neck-tie  or  something  ? 
You  do  look  so  untidy.  That  skirt  is  all  frayed  out  around 
the  bolt. nn." 

"Oh,  bother  my  hair  and  my  neck-tie,  and  everything 
else  !"  cried  Cynthia,  though  with  perfect  good -nature. 
"Edith,  you  make  such  a  fuss  !  Shall  I  go  meet  papa?" 

"No,  I'll  go;  but  I  wish  you  would  order  the  horse.  Now, 
Cynthia,  don't  forget  your  hair,  will  you?  Papa  hates  to 
see  yon  untidy." 

For  answer  Cynthia  banged  the  screen-door  as  she  dis- 
appeared into  the  house  and  walked  through  the  wide  hall, 
humming  as  she  went. 

"What  shall  I  do  with  these  children  ?"  sighed  Edith 
to  herself,  as  she  laid  down  the  stocking,  mended  at  last, 
and  prepared  to  put  up  her  work.  "  I'm  sure  I  do  the  best 
I  can,  and  what  I  think  Mir  mother  would  have  liked,  but 
it  is  very  hard.  If  Cynthia  only  would  be  more  neat!" 

A  loud  crash  interrupted  her  thoughts.  At  the  end  of 
the  piazza,  where  the  children  had  been  playing,  was  a 
mass  of  chairs  and  tables,  while  from  the  midst  of  the  con- 
fusion came  roars  of  pain,  anger,  and  fright. 

"What  h  the-  matter?"  cried  Edith,  running  to  the  scene, 
and  overturning  her  work-basket  in  her  flight. 

It  took  several  minutes  to  extricate  the  screaming  chil- 
dren, set  them  on  their  feet,  and  ascertain  that  no  bones 
were  broken. 

"(iet  the  red  oil!"  shrieked  Janet ;  "that  naughty  boj 
has  killed  me  !  I'm  dead!  I'm  dead!  Get  the  red  oil !" 

"It's  no  such  a  thing  !"  shouted  Willy.  "I  didn't  do  it. 
and  I'm  dead,  too.  I'uh  !  I'm  all  bludge.  Get  the  red 
oil  !" 

Cynthia  had  witnessed  the  scene  from  the  window,  and 
appeared  just  in  time  with  the  bottle  of  red  oil,  the  pan- 
acea for  all  the  Franklin  bumps  and  bruises. 

"What  were  you  doing,  you  naughty  children  ?"  said 
Edith,  as  she  wiped  the  "bludge"  from  Willy's  lips,  and 
found  that  it  came  from  a  very  small  scratch,  while  Jauet 
was  scarcely  hurt  at  all. 

"We  were  only  playing  cars,  and  Willy  icould  ride  on 
the  engine,  and  made  it  topple  over,  and — " 

"It's  no  such  a  thing!"  interposed  Willy.  "Girls  don't 
know  uothiu"bout  steam-cars,  and  Janet  went  and  put  her 
feet  on  the  back  of  uiy  chair,  and — " 

He  -was  interrupted  by  a  blow  from  Janet's  small  fat 
fist,  which  he  immediately  returned  in  kind,  and  then  both 
began  to  scream. 

"You  are  both  as  bad  as  you  can  be,  and  I've  a  good 
mind  to  send  you  to  bed,"  said  Edith,  severely,  shaking 
Janet  as  she  spoke. 

Janet  cast  herself  upon  Cynthia.  "  Edith's  horrid  to  us  ! 
She  is  so  cross.  Cynthia,  don't  let  her  send  us  to  bed.  I'm 
sorry.  I'm  sorry  I  hit  Willy ;  I'm  sorry  we  upset  the  chairs  : 
I'm  sorry  for  everything." 

"  Well,  here  conies  the  horse,  and  I  must  go,"  said  Edith. 
"  Oh,  look  at  my  basket !" 

And  it  was  indeed  a  sight.  Spools,  scissors,  china  eggs, 
stockings,  everything  lay  iu  Vrild  confusion  on  the  floor. 


G4-2 


HAEPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"Nevermind.  I'll  pick  them  up,"  said  Cynthia.  "Dou't 
bother  about  them,  Edith.  The  children  will  help  me.  Come 

along,  Willy  arid  Jauet.  Let's  see  which  can  find  the  most 
spools." 

Edith  looked  back  doubtfully  as,  having  put  on  her  hat, 
she  got  iuto  the  carriage.  What  would  her  basket  be  like 
when  she  next  saw  it  ?  But  it  was  kind  of  Cynthia,  aud 
how  ruuch  better  Cynthia  managed  the  children  than  she 
did.  What  was  the  reason  ?  She  was  thinking  it  over, 
•when  she  heard  her  name  called  loudly  from  behind,  and, 
pulling  in  the  horse  quickly,  she  waited,  wondering  what 
had  happened  now. 

Cynthia  came  flying  down  the  avenue.  "Edith!  Edith! 
Wait  a  minute !  I  forgot  to  tell  you.  Dou't  say  anything 
to  papa  about  Jack's  scheme,  will  you  ?  Let  him  tell." 

"  Oh,  Cynthia,  how  you  frightened  me !  I  thought  some- 
thing dreadful  was  the  matter." 

"But  don't,  will  you,  Edith?  Promise!  You  know — 
well,  Edith,  Jack  cau  explain  it  so  much  better  himself." 

Cynthia  was  too  kind-hearted  to  tell  Edith  that  she 
•would  spoil  it  all  if  she  said  anything  first,  but  Edith  knew 
that  was  what  she  meant.  A  sharp  reply  was  on  her  lips, 
but  she  controlled  herself  in  time. 

"  Very  well,"  she  said,  quietly, "  I  won't." 

And  then  she  drove  on,  and  Cynthia  went  back  to  the 
house  satisfied. 

Edith  had  a  quick,  impatient  temper,  and  it  was  not  an 
easy  matter  for  her  to  curb  her  tongue.  Her  mother  had 
died  five  years  ago,  when  she  was  but  eleven  years  old. 
Then  au  aunt  had  come  to  live  with  them, but  she  had 
lately  married  and  gone  to  South  America,  aud  now  there 
•was  no  one  else,  and  Edith  was  considered  old  enough  to 
keep  house  and  look  after  the  childreu. 

The  road  wound  through  the  woods,  with  here  aud  there 
a  view  of  the  river,  leading  finally  iuto  the  old  New  Eng- 
land town  and  funning;  its  main  street. 

Tall  elm-trees  shaded  the  approach  to  the  village,  and 
fiue  old  houses,  with  well-kept  lawns  in  front,  were  to  be 
seeu  on  either  side. 

The  horse  that  Edith  drove  was  by  uo  means  a  fiue  one, 
and  the  old  buggy  was  somewhat  unsteady  aud  rattled 
alarmingly.  In  other  words,  the  Franklins  were  poor,  but 
they  had  hosts  of  friends  :  and  as  Edith  entered  the  village 
she  nodded  right  aud  left,  to  the  various  people  she  met. 
Every  cue  liked  the  Franklins, aud  the  family  had  lived  at 
Oakleigh  for  generations. 

As  she  reached  the  station  the  train  came  in.  A  throng 
of  carriages  filled  the  broad  space  in  front,  aud  Edith  was 
obliged  to  draw  up  at  some  little  distance  from  the  cars. 
Presently  she  saw  her  father  coming  towards  her,  aud  with 
him  was  an  odd  little  figure, the  sight  of  which  made  Edith's 
heart  siuk  with  apprehension. 

"Oh  dear!  oh  dear !"  she  exclaimed  to  herself,  "if  there 
isn't  Auut  Betsey !" 

Then  she  shrank  back  into  the  corner  of  the  buggy,  and 
watched  the  amused  glances  that  were  cast  upon  her  rela- 
tive by  all  who  saw  her. 

Miss  Betsey  Triukett,  of  Wayborough,  was  Edith's  great- 
aunt,  aud  constituted  one  of  the  largest  thorns  in  her  side. 
She  was  old,  she  was  odd, she  was  distinctly  conspicuous; 
aud  Edith  disliked  above  all  things  to  be  conspicuous. 

Miss  Betsey  trotted  along  the  platform  by  her  nephew's 
side,  quite  uucouscious  of  the  tumult  she  was  raising  in  the 
breast  of  her  grauduiece.  She  was  dressed  in  a  short, 
scaut  velveteen  gown  that  might  have  belonged  to  her 
grandmother,  and  a  large  bonnet  of  the  same  date,  from 
which  hung  a  figured  lace  veil.  A  gay  shawl  was  folded 
about  her  slender  shoulders,  and  Mr.  Franklin  carried  her 
carpet-bag  with  the  silver  lock  and  key. 

She  waved  a  welcome  to  Edith  with  a  mitted  hand,  aud 
Edith,  recovering  herself,  nodded  in  response. 

"  How  do  yon  do,  Aunt  Betsey  ?     What  a  surprise  !" 

"Yes.  my  dear,  I  like  to  surprise  you  uow  and  then.  I 
came  up  to  Huston  town  on  business,  and  your  father  in- 
sisted upon  my  coming  out  to  see  you  all.  In  fact,  I  knew 
lie  \\nuld,  so  I  just  popped  my  best  cap  aud  my  knitting 
into  my  bag.  along  with  some  little  things  for  you  children, 
aud  here  I  am." 


Aud  she  stepped  nimbly  into  the  buggy,  followed  by  Mr. 
Franklin. 

"We  shall  be  a  'Marblehead  couple,'"  he  said,  as  he 
balanced  himself  on  the  seat  aud  took  the  reins. 

Edith  detested  "  Marblehead  couples,"  otherwise  driving 
three  on  a  seat,  aud  she  hid  herself  as  much  as  possible  in 
her  corner,  and  hoped  that  people  would  uot  know  she  was 
there. 

Miss  Betsey  chatted  away  with  her  nephew,  and  in  time 
the  three  miles  were  covered,  and  they  turned  iuto  the 
Oakleigh  drive.  Edith  had  recovered  somewhat  by  this 
time,  having  been  engaged  in  scolding  herself  all  the  way 
from  the  village  for  her  uucordial  feelings. 

The  others  welcomed  Aunt  Betsey  must  cordially.  Her 
carpet-bag  always  contained  some  rare  treat  for  the  little 
oues;  and,  besides,  they  were  a  hospitable  family. 

"  But  come  with  me,  girls,"  said  Miss  Betsey,  myste- 
riously, wheu  she  had  bestowed  her  gifts.  "  There  is  some- 
thing I  want  to  consult  you  about." 

She  trotted  up  the  long  flight  of  stairs  to  her  accustom- 
ed room  with  the  springiness  of  a  young  girl,  Edith  aud 
Cynthia  following  her.  She  closed  the  door  behind  them, 
and  seating  herself  in  the  rocking-chair,  looked  at  them 
solemnly. 

"Do  you  remark  anything  different  about  my  appear- 
ance ?" 

"Why,  of  course,  Aunt  Betsey!"  exclaimed  Cynthia ; 
"  your  hair !" 

"Well,  I  want  to  know!  Cynthy,  you  are  very  smart. 
You  get  it  from  your  great  -  grandmother  Triukett,  for 
whom  you  were  named.  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  it  .'" 

Edith  had  hastened  to  the  closet,  and  was  opening 
drawers  aud  removing  garments  from  the  hooks  in  appar- 
ently a  sudden  desire  for  neatness.  lu  reality  she  was' 
convulsed  with  laughter. 

Cynthia  controlled  herself,  and  replied,  with  gravity, 
"  Did  it  grow  there  ?" 

Miss  Betsey  rocked  with  satisfaction,  her  hauds  folded  iu 
her  velveteen  lap. 

"I  knew  it  was  a  success.  No  one  would  ever  know  it, 
would  they  ?  My  dears,  I  bought  it  to-day  in  Boston  towu. 
The  woman  told  me  it  looked  real  natural.  I  dou't  know 
as  I  like  the  idea  exactly  of  wearing  other  people's  hair, 
but  one  has  to  keep  up  with  the  times,  and  mine  was  get- 
ting very  scant.  Silas  said  to  me  the  other  night,  said  he, 
'  Betsey,  strikes  me  your  hair  isn't  as  thick  as  it  used  to  be.' 
That  set  me  thinking,  and  I  remember  I'd  heard  tell  of 
these  frontispieces,  ami  I  then  and  there  made  up  some 
business  I'd  have  to  come  to  Boston  towu  about,  aud  here  I 
am.  I  bought  two  while  I  was  about  it.  The  woman  said 
it  was  a  good  plan,  iu  case  one  got  lost  or  rumpled,  and 
here  it  is  in  this  box.  Just  lay  it  away  carefully  for  me, 
Cyuthy,  my  dear.'1 

The  old  lady's  thin  and  grayish  locks  had  been  replaced 
by  a  false  front  of  smooth  brown,  with  puffs  at  the  side, 
and  a  nice  white  part  of  must  unnatural  straightuess  down 
the  middle. 

"  You  see,  I  like  to  please  Silas,"  she  continued.  "  I'll 
tell  you  again,  as  I've  told  you  before,  girls,  Silas  Green, 
aud  I  we've  been  keeping  steady  company  now  these  forty 
years.  But  1  can't  give  up  the  view  from  my  sitting-room 
windows  to  go  aud  live  at  his  house  on  the  other  hill,  and 
he  can't  give  up  the  view  from  his  best-room  windows  to 
come  and  live  at  my  house.  We've  tried  and  tried,  aud  we 
can't  either  of  us  give  up.  Aud  so  he  just  comes  every 
Sunday  night  to  see  me,  as  he's  done  these  forty  years,  and 
I  guess  it  '11  go  on  a  while  longer." 

They  were  interrupted  by  the  sound  of  the  tea  bell. 

Miss  Betsey  hastily  settled  her  cap  over  the  new  front, 
and  they  all  went  down  stairs,  Cynthia  pinching  Edith  to 
express  her  feelings,  aud  longing  to  tell  Jack  about  Aunt 
Betsey's  latest. 

But  they  found  Jack  having  an  animated  discussion  with 
his  father,  his  thoughts  ou  business  plans  intent. 

Cynthia  anxiously  surveyed  the  t\\<>.  and  she  feared 
from  appearances  that  Mr.  Franklin  did  not  intend  to 
yield. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


643 


HARPER'S   EOUND   TABLE 


LIFE  IN  A  LIGHT-HOUSE. 

BY  A.  J.  ENSIGN. 

Ai'oi.O  biting  west  wind  was  blowing.  The  sea  close 
under  the  beach  was  smooth  and  steel  blue,  and  the 
breakers  reared  their  white  crests  slowly,  falling  in  dull 
booms  of  muttered  thunder.  Beyond  the  rollers  a  wide 
expanse  of  ice-hard  gray  water  swept  away  to  the  iron  Hue 
of  the  horizon,  where  strange  shapes  of  writhing  billows 
tossed  against  the  glow  of  the  rising  moon.  Half  a  dozen 
stars  of  the  first  magnitude  swam  in  moisture  in  the  zenith, 
and  far  away  in  the  west  a  smudge  of  black  cloud,  touched 
on  its  lower  edge  with  blood  red,  kept  the  record  of  the 
swift  winter  sunset. 

"  It   will    blow  from  the   south'ard   and  east'ard   afore 
inornin',  an'  it'll  snow,"  said  the  light-house  keeper,  as  he 
peered  out  into  the  growing  gloom,  pierced  as  it  was  by 
the  rays  of  the  lamp  which 
he  had  set  burning  half  an 
hour  before. 

"Ay, "said  his  assistant, 
"  an'  we'll  have  fog,  too, 
I'm  thiukin'." 

"Well,  get  steam  up  for 
the  siren,  an'  stan'  by  fur 
trouble  afore  dawn." 

The  predictions  of  both 
men    came    true.      Before 
two  o'clock  in  the  morning 
the  wind  had  shifted   to 
the    southeast,   and    was 
blowing    a    gale.      Great 
tangled   masses  of  brown 
cloud   were  flying    across 
the  sky  at  terrific  speed, 
and  in  and  out  of  the  rifts 
shot  the  red  moon  flaming 
like  a  comet.     The  breakers  no  long- 
er reared  and  fell  slowly,  but  hurled 
themselves  in    shrieking    masses    of 
foam  upon  the  stricken   beach.     A 
yelling  as  often  thousand  evil  spir- 
its  surrounded  the   caged    lautern; 
but   the    great   yellow  light  blazed 
out  its  •warning  upon  the  black  wa- 
ters.    But  not  for  long;  for  out  of 
the  southeast  swept  the  impenetrable 
gray  fog  that  no  light  could  pierce. 
Then  the  hoarse  moaning  blast  of  the 
steam-siren  sent  its  cry  of  warning 
out  over  the  raging  waters.     At  four 
o'clock    the    gale   was    terrific,  and 
ever  and  anon  the  shriek  of  a  steam- 
whistle  told  that   some  vessel   was 
groping    her    way  toward    the-     en- 
trance to  the  harbor.     Suddenly  the  whistle  burst  into  a 
series  of  rapid  screams. 

"  Wake  up,  Tom !"  shouted  the  assistant  keeper,  who  was 
on  watch.  "There's  a  tug  out  yonder  that's  parted  the 
hawser  of  her  tn\v." 

The  keeper  sprang  to  his  feet  and  listened  to  the  despair- 
ing screams  of  the  whistle  out  in  the  fog. 

"You're  right!"  he  exclaimed.  "And  whatever's  gone 
adrift  '11  be  ashore  in  less  than  an  hour.  They'll  never 
hear  those  whistles  at  the  station  with  the  wind  in  this 
quarter." 

He  jumped  to  the  telephone  and  called  up  the  life-saving 
slut  ion  a  mile  above. 

"There's  a  tug  off  here,"  he  said,  "and  she's  lost  her 
tow." 

"  All  right,"  came  the  answer  ;  "  we'll  look  out  for  "em." 

Half  au  hour  later  a  big  three-masted  coal  barge,  which 
thirty  years  earlier  had  been  au  English  bark,  was  in  the 
breakers  half  a  mile  above  the  life-saving  station ;  but 
owing  to  the  sharp  lookout  for  her,  all  her  )>.-o|>le,  three 
men,  a  boy,  and  a  woman,  were  taken  ashore  safely  in  the 
breeches  buoy.  At  sunup  the  other  barge,  which  had 
been  in  tow  of  the  tug,  was  seen  three  miles  off  shore  hove 


to  under  her  leg-of-muttou  canvas.  She  was  picked  up  by 
an  incoming  steamer,  and  towed  into  the  harbor. 

That  is  a  sample  of  the  experience  of  a  light -house 
keeper  whose,  light  is  on  the  land.  He  has  a  comparatively 
comfortable  berth  ;  but  all  lights  are  not  so  pleasantly 
situated.  Some  are  situated  at  considerable  distances  from 
the  shore,  on  dangerous  reefs.  Jlost  of  the  houses  so  situ- 
ated are  built  on  iron-screw  piles,  like  those  at  Thimble 
Shoals,  Virginia,  Fowey  Rocks,  Alligator  Reef,  and  Som- 
brero Key,  Florida.  These  bouses  stand  on  iron  legs,  which 
are  screwed  down  into  the  rocks  on  the  bottom,  and  the 
keeper's  only  means  of  leaving  his  confined  dwelling  is  by 
the  boat,  which  swings  at  davits,  as  it  would  aboard  a  ship. 
It  has  been  found  that  a  light-house  built  in  this  manner 
will  stand  the  shocks  of  heavy  weather  much  better  than 
oue  made  of  solid  masonry.  The  storm  wave  of  the  At- 
lantic Ocean  travels  at  the  rate  of  about  thirty  miles  an 

liour,  aud  when  one  of 
these  waves,  towering 
from  fifteen  to  thirty-five 
feet,  strikes  au  obstacle, 
such  as  a  light-house,  it 
deals  a  blow  whose  force 
cau  be  measured  only  in 
hundreds  of  tons.  The 
iron  -  screw  pile  -  house, 
however,  is  elevated  far 
enough  above  the  level  of 
the  sea  to  escape  the  blows 
of  the  waves,  which  meet 
with  no  greater  resistance 
than  that  offered  by  the 
slender  legs  of  the  struc- 
ture. 

Let  us  imagine  the  ex- 
perience of  a  keeper  of  one 
of  these  lights  iu  a  great 
storm.  It  is  September. 
All  day  the  sea  has  been 
deathly  calm,  but  with  a 
slow  swell  of  ominous 
breadth  aud  weight.  The 
sky  has  been  of  a  dead 
gray  color,  and  has  seem- 
ed to  hang  so  low  that 
one  might  almost  reach  it 
from  the  top  of  the  lan- 
tern. Toward  night  the 
wind  begins  to  come  in 
fitful  gusts  that  moan 
around  the  light  -  house 
like  the  voices  of  warn- 
ing spirits.  The  keeper 
goes  out  on  the  balcony 
aud  looksanxiously  around 

the  horizon.  He  knows  that  they  are  in  for  a  bad  night, 
and  he  knows  that  even  iron-screw  light-houses  have  been 
carried  away  in  great  gales.  But  he  goes  calmly  and  care- 
fully about  his  work.  He  sees  that  the  boat  and  all  other 
objects  outside  the  house  are  well  secured.  He  sees  the 
lamp  well  supplied  with  oil  and  trimmed  wicks.  He  gives 
the  lenses  aud  reflectors  a  few  more  affectionate  rubs,  and 
as  the  sun  goes  down  fire-red  into  a  crimson  sea  he  lights 
the  wicks  and  goes  down  to  his  supper. 

The  gusts  of  wind  outside  increase  iu  number  aud  in 
force.  Strange  shriekiugs  and  moauings  break  from  the 
crannies  of  the  light-house.  It  is  blowing  half  a  gale  now, 
and  the  sea  is  beginning  to  rise.  Fiercer  aud  fiercer  be- 
come the  blasts.  The  light-house  begins  to  vibrate  like  a 
fiddle.  A  strange  humming,  as  of  the  giant  strings  of  some, 
enormous  -<£olian  harp,  is  added  to  the,  shriller  screams  of 
the  wind.  It  is  the  gale  singing  through  the  iron  leys  and 
braces  of  the  structure.  And  now  a  squall  more  violent 
than  any  that  have  preceded  it  comes  yelling  across  the 
sea.  It  tears  the  foaming  crests  off  half  a  dozen  waves, 
aud  sends  them  swirling  down  to  leeward  in  shivering 
sheets  of  snowy  spoondrift.  With  fearful  force  the  blast 
strikes  the  light-house,  at  the  same  time  hurling  some  of 


A    RESCUE    FROM    THE    LIGHT. 


044 


HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE 


TAKEN    ASHORE    IJJ    A    BREECHES-BUOY. 


the  spoondrift  against  its  weather  side  with  a  crash.  What 
•was  that?  Did  the  whole  building  sway? 

The  keeper  shuts  his  lips  tightly  ami  goes  up  to  look  at 
the  lamp.  It  is  burniug  brightly.  lie  descends  again, 
and  puts  on  his  oil-skins  and  sou'wester.  Waiting  for  a  lull 
iu  the  gale,  he  bolts  out  upou  the  balcony,  hastily  closing 
the  door  behind  him.  For  a  inomeut  be  stands,  clinging 
with  all  his  might  to  the  iron  railing,  while  the  mad  wind 
seems  to  try  tp  strip  bis  clothing  from  him.  How  the 
building  trembles  under  the  furious  assaults  of  the  wind! 
What  an  awful  roar  the  conflicting  elements  make  around 
its  iron  walls!  The  keeper's  eyes  are  half  blinded  by  tbe 
driving  rain  and  salt  spray.  But  he  can  see  by  the  light 
of  the  faithful  lamp  above  him  towering  walls  of  black  and 
shining  water  sweeping  down  out  of  the  fathomless  dark- 
ness beyond  as  if  to  engulf  his  little  refuge.  They  rush 
forward  and  disappear  within  the  circle  of  gloom  below  the 
light,  and  the  next  instant  he  bears  them  hissing  and 
shrieking  around  tbe  sturdy  iron  leg. 

There!  There  is  the  monster  wave  of  all,  heaving  its 
mighty  crest  twenty-five  feet,  so  that  the  keeper  sees  it 
level  with  his  eyes  as  he  gazes,  fascinated.  It  is  coming, 
it  is  coming.  Ah,  it  is  too  big  to  pass  the  reef  without 
breaking.  See!  It  has  toppled  over,  and  goes  boiling 
under  tbe  gallery  in  a  wild  mass  of  ghostly  foam.  The 
keeper  shivers  a  little,  shakes  his  head,  and  goes  back  to 
bis  warm  room,  muttering  a  prayer  for  the  safety  of  the 
sailors  on  the  sea.  You  and  I  would  mutter  one  for  our 
own,  perhaps,  if  we  stood  on  a  swaying  balcony  above  a 
storm-torn  ocean. 

Before  morning  the  keeper  hears  the  report  of  a  gun. 
He  knows  too  well  tbe  meaning  of  that,  sound.  It,  is  a  sig- 
nal of  distress.  He  rushes  out  on  tbe  balcony  again,  and 
SITS  the  dim  form  of  a  dismasted  ship  driving  upon  the 
reef.  What  can  he  do  ?  Not  a  thing.  He  calls  up  his 
assistants,  and  they  helplessly  watch  the  vessel  strike. 
They  hear  the  cries  of  her  people.  They  see  the  waves 
burst  over  her  in  great  clouds  of  seething  spray.  Sud- 
denly one  of  the  men  utters  a  shout. 

"  See !  There's  a  spar  driving  down  on  us  with  some  one 
on  it." 


Now  the  keeper  and  his  assistants  can  do  something,  and 
they  move  with  the  rapidity  of  men  whose  wits  are  accus- 
tomed to  the  emergencies  of  tbe  deep.  Projecting  from 
one  side  of  the  house  is  an  iron  arm,  at  the  end  of  which 
hang  a  block  and  tackle.  This  is  used  for  hoisting  sup- 
plies from  the  boat  which  brings  them  off.  Quickly  a  line 
is  fastened  around  the  hook  at  the  bottom  of  the  tackle. 
This  is  to  give  the  shipwrecked  mariner  something  by 
which  to  hold.  The  broken  and  half-buried  spar  sweeps 
down  toward  the  light-house.  Two  men  are  clinging  to 
it  with  the  strength  of  despair.  The  tackle  is  lowered, 
and  as  the  spar  drives  against  one  of  the  stout  iron  legs 
of  the  light-house  one  of  the  two  men  catches  the  rope, 
and  is  quickly  hauled  up  to  the  gallery.  At  once  the 
tackle  is  lowered  again,  and  the  other  man  is  hauled  up. 
Half  blind,  half  drowned,  staggering  with  exhaustion,  they 
are  taken  into  the  bouse  where  warm  drinks  and  dry  cloth- 
ing revive  them.  Then  they  sit  beside  the  stove  and  tell 
the  dreadful  story  of  the  wreck,  while  the  howling  of  the 
wind,  the  thunder  of  the  seas,  and  the  swaying  of  the 
house  remind  them  all  that  the  storm  still  rages  without. 

Finally  the  great  gale  ends,  and  gradually  the  sea  goes 
down.  The  shipwrecked  seamen  are  anxious  to  reach  land, 
and  the  light-house  keeper,  upon  whose  stores  two  extra 
mouths  make  serious  inroads,  is  willing  to  have  them  go. 
Late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  third  day  they  see  smoke  on 
the  horizon.  By-and-by  the  smoke  appears  to  rise  from  a 
little  black  speck.  Gradually  the  speck  grows  larger,  and 
at  length  it  assumes  the  outlines  of  a  small  steam-vessel. 

"That's  her,"  says  the  keeper.  "Now  you'll  be  able  to 
get  ashore." 

"Is  it  the  tender?"  asks  one  of  tbe  wrecked  sailors. 

"Yes,"  says  the  keeper.  "She  was  due  here  just  about 
tbe  time  the  gale  set  iu." 

It  is  the  stanch  little  light-house  tender,  whose  duty  it  is 
to  visit  the  various  lights  iu  her  district,  and  replenish 
their  supplies.  Many  a  rough  time  she  has  at  sea,  and 
many  a  narrow  escape  ;  but  the  pressing  necessities  of  the 
keepers  of  the  isolated  lights  embolden  tbe  captains  of 
tenders  to  brave  many  dangers.  The  tender  is  alongside 


RECEIVING    SUPPLIES    IN    CALM    WEATHER. 


645 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


the  light-house  in  due  time,  and  the  tackle  which  so  lately 

:   human  liv.-s  hoists  up  boxes  of  provisions,  cans  of 

d  other  articles.     The  two  shipwrecked  sailors  are 

,mi   aboard  the  tender  tb  l>o  landed  at   the  nearest  port, 

;,,,,!  in  ii  short  tin"-  the  little  vessel  is  once  more  a  smudge 

uf  smoke  upon  tin;  horizon. 

And  so  lei  us  l.id  good-by  to  the  light-house  and  the 
kc.,.|M-r.  We  know  now  that  lie  is  a  brave  and  faithful  fel- 
low, who,  if  need  be,  will  lower  :iway  bis  little  boat,  and 
pull  to  the  rescue  of  those  in  danger.  We  know  that  in 
spring  and  in  .summer,  in  autumn  and  in  winter,  in  calm 
,.i  storm,  in  clear  weather  or  in  fog.  in  health  or  in  sickness, 
he  will  be  found  always  at  his  po*t,  always  at  his  duty. 
•We  know  that  when  the  skies  are  clear,  and  the  sea  smooth, 
and  the  stars  bright,  the  hini|>  will  burn  and  send  its  gentle 
\ellow  rays  out  upon  the  inky  waters  to  guide  the  mariner 
o\  ,r  the  trackless  sea.  \Ve  know  that  when  the  gray  cur- 
tain of  the  fog  hides  the  light,  the  hoarse  scream  of  the 
steam-siren  or  brazen  clang  of  the  fog-bell  will  echo  over 
the  water,  and  warn  the  sailor  against  hidden  dangers. 
For  always  and  everywhere  the  light -house  keeper  is  a 
brave,  honest,  faithful  man  ;  humble,  indeed,  but  the  re- 
liance and  the  guide  of  "  those  who  go  down  to  the  sea  iu 
ships."  


r*t  ot'  Amateur  Photneraphera,  and  the  Editor  will 
ubject  so  far  as  possible      Correspondents  should 


This  Department  is  conducted  in  the  inU 
be  plpased  to  answer  any  question  ,M,  the 
iMitor  Camera  Club  Department. 

PAPERS   FOR   BEGINNERS,  No.  6. 
SIMPLE  DEVELOPMENT. 

A  GIRL  who  was  taking  her  first  lesson  in  developing 
said  that  developing  was   dozens   of   "\\hens"   and 
"  it's,"  and  one  must  learn  them  all  at  once  or  else  spoil  all 
one's  plates. 

Our  first  directions  for  development  will  not  be  with  the 
kind  of  pictures  which  the  beginner  usually  takes,  but  the 
kind  he  ought  to  take,  and  which  are  simplest  and  easiesi 
to  develop.  These  are  time  landscape  pictures. 

By  time  pictures  is  meant  those  which  are  taken  with  a 
short- time  exposure  instead  of  with  a  drop-shutter  in 
bright  sunlight.  The  day  for  makiug  a  successful  time 
picture  is  when  the  sky  is  slightly  clouded  and  the  light 
soft,  so  that  there  are  uo  deep  shadows. 

The  picture  being  made,  and  everything  ready  for  de- 
velopment, remove  the  plate  from  the  holder  and  lay  it  face 
up  in  the  tray.  Turn  the  developer — which  is  ready  in  the 
glass  graduate — quickly  over  the  plate,  taking  great  care 
that  the  whole  surface  is  flooded  instantly.  If  the  de- 
veloper is  not  applied  uniformly  patches  will  appear  on  the 
negative  which  print  darker,  the  dark  spots  being  where 
the  developer  did  not  reach  the  plate  as  quickly  as  it  did 
the  other  parts. 

Ac,  soon  as  the  developer  has  covered  the  plate,  move  the 
tray  gently  to  and  fro,  tipping  it  this  way  and  that,  but  not 
enough  to  expose  the  plate.  In  about  a  half-minute  the 
high  lights  will  begiu  to  appear.  The  high  lights  are 
those  parts  of  the  plate  which  have  been  exposed  to  the 
strongest  light,  and  which  will  show  white,  or  light,  in  the 
printed  picture.  The  sky,  which  has  reflected  the  strongest 
light,  will  appear  first.  It  will  show  as  black  patches 
hen'  and  there  at  one  edge  of  the  plate. 

By  the  time  the  sky  is  well  out  other  objects  will  begiu 
to  show,  those  which  were  iu  the  deepest  shadow  will  be 
the  longej-t  coining  out.  After  the  image  is  well  defined 
on  the  plate,  lift  it  carefully  from  the  tray  and  look  through 
it  towaid  i  he  light,  holding  rather  near  the  lantern  so  as  to 
see  if  the  detail  is  out. 

To  explain  what  is  meant  by  detail,  we  will  suppose  that 
there  is  a  mass  of  shrubbery  in  the  picture.  If  this  part 


of  the  picture  is  developed  far  enough,  the  lights  and 
shadows  and  the  forms  of  the  bushes  will  show  when  the 
plate  is  looked  at  against  the  light,  but  if  the  glass  is  clear 
iherc  is  uo  detail, and  the  development  has  not  been  car- 
ried far  enough.  It  must  be,  put  back  in  the  developer  and 
allowed  to  remain  longer. 

When  the  plate  has  been  sufficiently  developed,  which 
will  be  in  from  three  to  five  minutes,  the  yellow  color  will 
beginto  fade,  and  the  outlines,  which  have  been  quite  sharp, 
will  grow  dim.  At  this  point,  if  one  looks  at  the  plate  the 
picture  can  be  quite  distinctly  seen  on  the  back. 

Take  the  plate  from  the  developer,  rinse  it  thoroughly  in 
clean  water,  and  place  it,  film  side  up.  iu  the  tray  of  hypo 
solution,  which  is  made  by  dissolving  1  oz.  of  hyposulphite 
of  soda  in  4  oz.  of  water. 

This  bath,  which  is  usually  called  the  fixing-bath,  though 
the  proper  term  would  lie  clearing-bath,  removes  from  the 
negative  the  sensitive  .silver  salts  which  have  not  been  af- 
fected by  light  or  by  development,  and  makes  the  image 
permanent.  After  the  plate  has  remained  iu  the  clearing- 
bath  for  five  minutes  it  will  be  found  on  looking  at  the 
back  of  the  plate  that  the  yellow  color  has  almost  entirely 
disappeared,  leaving  on  the  glass  the  clear  image  of  the 
landscape.  The  plate  should  remain  iu  the  hypo  for  ten 
minutes,  so  that  the  salts  of  silver  may  be  thoroughly  dis- 
solved, or  the  plates  will  look  streaked,  aud  will  not  make 
satisfactory  prints. 

The  plate  must  next  be  washed  to  remove  all  traces  of 
hypo.  Hypo  stains  the  negative,  and  if  not  thoroughly 
washed  out  is  apt  to  form  again  iu  crystals  aud  ruin  the 
negative. 

An  hour  is  long  enough  to  wash  the  negative  in  running 
water,  and  two  hours,  with  four  or  five  changes  of  water, 
where  there  is  no  running  water.  When  the  negative  has 
been  washed  long  enough,  take  a  small  wad  of  soft  cotton, 
aud  holding  both  plate  and  cotton  in  the  water  wipe  the 
film  gently  with  the  cotton  to  remove  any  dirt  which  may 
have  settled  iu  the  film.  If  one  has  no  drying-rack  set  the 
plate  on  a  shelf,  with  the  film  side  toward  the  wall  to  avoid 
the  settling  of  dust  iu  the  film. 

When  the  negative  is  dry,  place  it  iu  au  envelope,  num- 
ber and  mark  it,  and  place  it  in  some  place  where  it  may 
be  found  without  trouble. 


BILL    TYBEE    AND    THE    BULL. 

YARN  OF  A  WHALEMAN  ON  SHORE. 

BY  W.  J.  HENDERSON. 

ND  didn't  yeon  never  have  uothiu'  more  to  do  with 
whalin'  ?"  asked  Farmer  Joe. 

"Oh,  well,"  Handsome  answered,  "I  never  said  that  I 
gave  up  whaling  for  good  and  all.  You  kuow.sailors  nev- 
er know  when  they're  well  oft'." 

"  Waal,"  said  Farmer  Joe,  '•  it  'pears  to  me  that  this  'ere's 
niiaout  a  good  time  to  tell  us  some  more  ou't." 

"  Did  I  ever  tell  you  about  going  whaling  on  shore  ?" 

"  Git  aout!"  exclaimed  Farmer  Joe. 

"  You  don't  believe  it,  eh  ?  Did  you  never  hear  of  Aina- 
gansett,  Long  Island  ?  That's  where  all  good  whalemen 
go  when  they  get  to  be  too  old  to  go  to  sea.  They  have 
their  boats  there,  and  when  a  whale  heaves  in  sight  off 
shore  they  put  right  out  through  the  surf,  aud  generally 
there's  one  dead  whale  iu  those  parts  when  they  come 
back.  But  it  isn't  about  that  I'm  going  to  tell  you,  be- 
cause chasing  whales  iu  boats  is  all  the  same  whether  you 
start  from  shore  or  a  ship.  But  dowu  there's  where  I  met 
old  Bill  Tybee." 

"  Who  were  he  ?"  asked  Farmer  Joe. 

"  He  was  a  very  old  sailor,  who'd  quit  the  sea,  and  was 
running  a  sort  of  express  business.  That  is,  he  had  a  horse 
and  wagon,  aud  used  to  cart  things  for  people.  He  was  a 
great  old  chap,  I  tell  5-011,  and  the  yarns  he  used  to  tell 
would  have  scraped  barnacles  oft'  the  back  door  of  the 
North  Pole.  His  horse  was  so  old  he  couldn't  move  at  any 
pace  except  a  sort  of  dog-trot,  and  the  wagon  rumbled  and 
squeaked  like  a  fife-aud-drum  corps.  One  day  I  said  to 
Bill  that  I'd  like  to  know  why  he  didn't  get  a  new  horse 


646 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


and  wagon,  and  then  he  told  me  a  regular  liair-twi.ster. 
I'm  going  to  tell  it  to  you.  anil  I'm  going  to  tell  it  just  the 
way  Bill  told  it  to  me." 

Handsome  shifted  his  seat  a  fnot  or  two,  took  a  round 
turn  around  his  foot  and  tested  tin-  splice  which  he  had 
been  making,  and  then  screw  ing  his  face  up  in  imitatiou  of 
"  old  Bill  Tybee,"  he  began. 

"Git  a  new  boss  an'  waggiu,  hoy?  I  ain't  no  dndr. 
Nex'  thing  I  'spect  you'll  be  waiitiu'  mo  to  run  a  tally-hoo 
coach  to  take  beach  -  combers  mil  a  clam-diggiii'.  New- 
boss  an'  waggin  !  Say,  I  had  Yin  oncer,  an'  I  don't  want 
'em  no  more.  I  got  all  the  trouble  I  want  now,  without 
bavin' a  cantankerous  young  colt  a  tryin'  to  jump  tVnn^ 
with  me  an'  the  waggin.  Say,  I'm  goiu'  to  tell  you  'bout 
the  new  boss  an'  waggin  I  had  oncet,  an'  then  I  leave  it  to 
you,  if  you  was  me  an'  I  was  you,  would  you  try  it  on  some 
more.  'Bout  two  year  ago  come  Thanksgivin'  I  got  so 
sot  up  in  bizniss  that  I  bought  Farmer  Hiram  Smoggs's 
brown  colt,  that  were  jes  seven  year  old  that  fall,  an'  his 
one-boss  farm  waggin  wot  Fin  Dooh-y  had  jes  painted 
redder  'n  a  new  can-buoy  mi  the  starboard  side  o'  a  ship 
channel.  I  gave  him  this 'ere  boss  an' waggin  wot  I'm 
a-drivin'now  to  boot.  Werry  good.  I  got  aboard  my  new 
waggin,  and  h'isted  my  whip,  an' whistled  the  'Star-Span- 
gled Banner,'  and  sez  I,  '  Thar,  gol  bust  ye.  you're  in  com- 
mission, ye  wall-sided  hooker,'  sez  I.  Then  I  got  under 
way  fur  my  fust  cruise.  It  were  plain  sailin'  gittin'  out  o' 
the  harbor, an',  as  the  weather  wore  fair  with  a  stiddy  wind, 
I  let  the  colt  go  along  under  plain  sail.  Waal,  I  hadn't  gone 
more'u  a  couple  o'  cable  lengths  wVn  ole  Widdy  Moriarty 
she  comes  down  to  the  sea-wall  on  her  place,  an'  sings  out 
to  me.  So  I  hove  the  colt  to,  an'  I  axes  her,  '  Wot's  up, 
mate  ?'  An'  she  says  she  wants  me  fur  to  take  a  box  o' 
heggs  down  to  the  Fraser  Bellew's  grocery  store.  So  I 
tilled  away  on  the  colt,  an'  luffed  up  alongside  o' the  sea- 
wall, an'  made  him  fast  to  a  pile  wot  were  stickin'  up.  I 
got  the  heggs,  an'  stowed  'em  right  forrard  in  the  forepeak 
o'  the  waggin.  I  got  aboard,  an'  tilled  away  on  my  course 
Etg'in. 

"Werry  good.  Nex'  I  war  hove  to  by  Pete  Magnff,  a 
cnlliul  man,  who  put  a  bar'l  o'  maple  syrup  aboard.  Then 
Jiui  Penu  he  puts  in  a  bar'l  o'  flour  fur  me  to  take  back  to 
ole  man  Bellew  'cos  'twarn't  the  right  kind.  Them  two 
bar'ls  pooty  nigh  filled  up  the  whole  waist  u' the  waggin. 
Howsuuiever,  w'eu  Hank  Mosber  axed  me  to  take  a  bar'l 
o'  apples  aboard  I  carkilated  I  could  git  her  under  the 
break  o'  the  tailboard,  an'  I  did.  Pussoually,  I  war  now 
usin'the  box  o' heggs  fur  a  bridge,  an' were  a-steerin' the 
colt  from  there.  Bern'  loaded  right  down  to  the  Plimsoll's 
mark,  I  didn't  go  to  crackin'  on  sail,  but  let  the  colt  go  along 
under  his  lower  tops'ls  like.  All  right,  sez  yon.  But  allus 
keep  a  bright  lookout  fur  squalls,  sez  I.  Werry  good.  I 
hadn't  logged  off  more'u  half  a  knot  w'eu  Farmer  Powley's 
ten-acre  pasture  were  on  my  starboard  hand,  an'  his  black- 
an'-white  bull.  Napoleon  Bonyparty,  were  stamliu' plum  in 
the  middle;  o'  the  same.  Now  w'eu  that  'ere  bull  seed  that 
'ere  red  waggin  he  kuowed  it  warn't  the  ole  merchant 
hooker  wot  he'd  seed  me  a-steeriu'up  an' down  that  road 
so  long.  Nope;  he  med  np  his  mind  it  were  a  foreign 
cruiser,  an' sez  he  to  hisself, 'This  are  where  I  shows 'em 
wot  kind  o'  a  coast-defeuse  ram  I  are.'  So  he  blowed  one 
whistle,  hooked  on,  an'  come  down  the  Held  under  forced 
draught,  turnin'  np  a  mos'  terrible  staru  wave  o'  dust  on 
account  o'  the  pasture  bein'  werry  shallow  water.  I  hailed 
him,  an'  told  him  it  war  me,  but  he  eoutdn't  hear  uothiii'. 
All  ho  could  do  war  to  see  a  red  waggin.  So,  seeiu'  that 
he  war  a-goin'  to  ram,  I  ups  an' I  lets  fall  to'gallauts  an' 
royals  onto  the  colt,  an'  away  we  went  dead  afore  the  wind 
at  a  twelve-knot  gait.  The  bull  didn't  stop  fur  to  jump 
the  fence.  Ho  jes  went  through  it.  Now  it  were  a  staru 
chase  right  up  the  bill. 

"Werry  good.  But  afore  I'd  got  fur  I  heard  a  thump, 
an,'  lookin'  round  I  seed  Hank  Mosber's  bar'l  o'  apples  'd 
bounced  out  over  the  stum,  an'  were  a-rolliu'  down  the  hill 
at  a  giuerally  lively  gait.  (.Josh!  You'd  ort  to  see  the 
bull  clear  that  bar'l.  Say,  flyin'-tish  would  have  to  take 
lessons  from  him.  Waal,  bavin'  lighteued  ship  by  losin' 
some  o'  my  cargo  I  reckoned  I'd  make  better  speed  ;  but  I 


didn't  seem  to  gain  werry  much  onto  the  bull.  He  follered 
me  right  slap  inter  town,  an'  then  there  war  a  sort  o'  grand 
general  mixification,  sich  as  never  war  seed  afore  or 
sence. 

"Fust  place,  everybody  begin  fur  to  yell.  One  sez  mnr- 
der,  an'  another  sez  tire.  Wimmeii  screeched  un'bo\s  hol- 
lered, an'  the  bull  he  bellerod  hmder'n  any  on  'em.  Joli'^a- 
phat  Book, the  oulliid  dominie.  lie  run  out  an' tried  to  jump 
inter  the  waggin.  Je.s  at  that  minute  the  bar'l  o'  ilmir 
give  a  bounce  up  in  the  air.  The  head  o'  the  bar'l  fell  out, 
an'  the  bar'l,  flour,  an'  all  came  down  over  Jehosaphat's 
head.  Afore  lie  could  git  it  off  the  bull  war  there,  an' he 
jes  [licked  up  Jehos  an'  his  llar'l  an'  tired  'em  right  through 
the  winder  o'  the  school  -  haouse.  Jehus  landed  in  the 
middle  o'  the  floor,  an'  comin'  out  o'  the  bar'l  lie  war  all 
white.  The  chillen  set  up  a  yell, '  Ghost !  ^liost  !'  an'  afore 
the  teacher  knowed  wot'd  happened  school  war  out.  Jehos 
picked  hisself  up,  an'  saw  hisself  in  the  lookin'-glass.  Then 
be  let  out  a  squeal  an'  started  fnr  the  street.  He  thort 
he'd  turned  white. 

"But  that  warn't  the  wnst  oft.  That  there  bar'l  o' ap- 
ples a-rolliu'  down-hill  had  fotched  up  ag'iu  the  feet  o'  Blind 
Billy  Bunker's  team  o'  mules,  an'  they'd  started  off  on  a 
dead  run  with  bar'l  hoops  a  tlappin' round  tteirlegs.  They 
came  into  town  a  quarter  o'  a  mile  astaru  o'  me,  and  jes  in 
time  to  meet  Jehos  w'eu  he  come  out  in  the  street  all  white. 
He  scared  them  mules  so  bad  that  they  stopped  right  in 
their  tracks.au'  Billy  Bunker  war  shot  off  the  seat  o'  his 
waggiu  an' out  into  the  road  on  his  he,ad.  He  got  up  an' 
made  a  grab  fur  the  fust  thing  That  he  could  feel,  an'  it 
were  Jehos.  Billy  war  so  mad  that  ho  punched  Jehos's 
head  an'  Jehos  punched  back,  an'  there  was  the  cullud  min- 
ister, all  white,  a-fightin'in  the  middle  o' the  street  with  a 
blind  man.  An'  the  sheriff  he  came  along  an' arrested 'em 
both,  an'  Jedge  Sooter  fined  Jehos  five  dollars  fnr  disturbiu' 
o'  the  peace,  w'en  he'd  ort  to  have  fined  the  bull. 

"  But  that  warn't  the  wust  of  't.  All  this  time  me  an'  the 
bull  was  still  a-goin'.  Somebody  'd  hollered  fire,  an'  some- 
body else'd  run  off  to  the  fire-engine  house,  an'  told  'em  that 
they'd  got  to  come  quick  or  the  whole  blooiniu'town 'd  go. 
Jes  then  the  red  waggin  hit  a  stone  in  the  middle  o'  the 
street,  an' she  pitched  so  hard  she  hove  her  tailboard  right 
up  into  the  air  an'  overboard.  That  tailboard  were  jes  as 
red  as  anythin',  an' w'en  the  bull  seed  it  soarin'  in  the  air 
like  a  ole-time  round  shell  with  a  navy  time-fuse,  he  jes 
got  clean  crazy.  He  kctehcd  it  onto  his  horns,  an' loweriu' 
his  bead  scraped  up  about  two  tons  o' dust,  an' hove  dust 
an'  all  right  through  the  big  front  winder  o'  Jeremiah 
Boggs's  book  an'  newspaper  store.  The  firemen  seein'  all 
the  dust,  thought  it  war  smoke,  an'  they  comes  up  with 
their  engine  an' lets  drive  a  stream  o' water  a  foot  thick 
right  through  the  hole  in  the  winder,  an'  completely  sp'iled 
the  whole  shop. 

"  But  that  warn't  the  wnst  oft.  Jeremiah's  briudle  bull- 
dog were  asleep  under  the  counter,  au'  that  there  stream  o' 
water  hit  him  ca-plum  in  the  middle  o'  the  back.  He  let 
out  one  yell,  an'  out  o'  the  shop  he  went  an'  down  the  street 
all  drippin'  wet  au'  sqnealin'  like  a  pig.  Every  body  wot  seed 
him  hollered 'Mad  dog!  mad  dog!'  An' then  ole  Willum 
Henry  Peet,  the  constable,  he  got  clean  rattled,  an' pulled 
out  his  rewolwer  an'beginned  to  shoot  all  over  the  coun- 
try. As  me  an' the  bull  was  still  a-goiii'I  didn't  see  that, 
but  I  could  hear  it.  Waal,  Willum  Henry's  shootin'  started 
up  some  other  folks,  an'  putty  soon  there  war  a  whole  rigi-  • 
mint  o'  people  out  in  the  street  a-shootin',  an'  not  hittin' 
anythiii"ceptiu' winders,  w'ich  the  same  they  busted  forty- 
seven.  '  The  firemen  findin'  they'd  made  a  mistake,  an'  there 
warn't  no  (ire,  said  as  how  Jeremiah  'd  sent  out  a  false  alarm, 
an' they  started  to  lick  him.  Some  o'his  friends  come  to 
help  him,  an'  in  five  minutes  there  war  a  reg'lar  riot  right 
out  in  front  o'  his  store. 

"All  this  time  me  an'  the  bull  war  still  a-goin'.  I  didn't 
seem  to  gain  much  onto  him,  so  I  set  the  royals  an'  the 
stu'ns'ls  onto  the  colt,  although  it  were  werry  stormy 
weather,  an'  I  made  up  my  mind  that  if  somethin'  didn't 
carry  away  I'd  be  able  to  hold  him  right  where  he  war. 
I  had  to  keep  goiu'  right  straight  ahead.  'Cos  w'y  :  it'  I'd  'a' 
put  the  helm  bard  over  fur  to  turn  a  corner,  I'd  'a'  rolled 


G47 


'ALL   THE   TIME   THE   BULL    WERE    ATTENDIN'   STRICTLY   TO    BIZNESS." 


tbe  deck-lioiise  right  oft'u  my  red  hooker.  Waal,  a  leetle 
furder  up  the  street  \ve  comes  to  Peanut  Brewer,  with  his 
black  horse  a-staiiiliu"  dead  still.  He'd  bulked,  an'  Peanut 
war  sittin'  on  top  o'  a  load  o'  hay  a-sayiu'  bad  words  at 
Lim.  Mrs.  Mehitabel  Saggs's  little  boy  come  out  with  a 
big  tire-cracker  to  set  oft'  under  the  boss  au"  make  him  start. 
At  that  werry  minute  Pete  Maguff  s  bar'l  o' maple  syrup  on 
my  waggin'  give  a  jounce,  and  went  by  the  board  over  the 
port  rail.  That  there  bar'l  rolled  right  under  Peanut's  boss 
jes  as  the  fire-cracker  busted.  It  sot  fire  to  the  bar'l,  an' 
she  blazed  right  up.  'Now,'  sez  Peanut,  'my  ole  black 
Loss  '11  start,'  sez  he.  An'  so  he  did.  He  started  an'  went 
jcs  fur  enough  to  pull  the  waggiu'  right  over  the  fire,  an' 
then  he  stopped.  Waal,  sir,  Peanut  had  to  jump  fur  his 
life,  fur  that  load  o'  hay  blazed  up  ill  half  a  second.  The 
liiv  rniupaiiy  war  on  the  dead  run  fur  home  w'eu  they  seed 
the  blaze, an' down  they  come  at  their  finest  gait,  with  Jer- 
emiah Boggs  an'  his  gang  astaru  o'  them,  keepin'  up  a 
permiskious  fire  o'  stones,  sticks,  an'  terniatter  cans  an' 
sich  things.  Jes  then  Jeremiah's  dog  come  around  the 
corner  with  forty  boys  a-chasin'  him  an'  yelliu'  'Mad  dog.' 
He  run  right  under  Peanut  Brewer's  black  hoss,  an'  that 
started  him.  Yaas,  sir,  he  got  right  up  onto  his  hind  legs, 
an'  away  he  went  down  the  street  licketty -split,  pnllin' 
a  load  o'  hay  on  fire.  By  that  time  everybody  iu  town 
were  putty  nigh  crazy,  an'  the  President  o'  the  village  had 
telegraphed  fur  the  militia  to  come. 

"  All  the  time  the  bull  were  attendiu'  strickly  to  biz- 
ness.  The  colt  war  all  covered  with  foam,  an'  I  made  up 
my  mind  that  afore  long  he  war  a-goiu'  fur  to  give  out,  an' 
me  an'  the  bull  would  have  to  settle  the  question  atweeu 
ourselves,  iu  w'ich  case  the  bettin'  would  all  'a'  bin  in  favor 
o'  the  bull.  So  I  kinder  considers  a  little,  an'  all  on  a  sud- 
dnit  I  ivcomniriiihrivd  them  heggs.  I  yanked  the  top 
ofifn  the  box,  an'  diskivrred  that  most  o'  the  heggs  was 
scrambled — raw — but  still  scrambled.  Howsmuever,  then- 
was  a  few  that  wasn't.  80  I  took  one  o'  them  an'  hove  it 
at  the  bull.  It  hit  him  smack  on  the  middle  o'  the  fore- 
head. Waal,  if  he'd  been  mad  afore,  he  war  crazy  now.  He 
let  out  a  roar  that  made  my  bones  rattle,  an'  he  opened  out 


his  last  link  o'  speed.  Now  he  commenced  fur  to  gain  ou 
me,  hand  over  fist;  so  I  made  up  my  mind  to  do  somethiu' 
desprit.  I  put  the  helm  hard  a-starboard,  an'  steered  the 
colt  into  a  narrer  channel  wot  led  right  down  to  the  bay. 
The  bull  he  tried  to  cut  short  goin'  round  the  corner,  an'  he 
run  into  the  lamp-post,  w'ich  the  same  he  knocked  clean 
down  into  Parker's  basement,  where  Johannes  Pfeiffeu- 
schneider,  the  cobbler,  works,  an'  scared  Johannes  so  that 
he  sp'iled  Miss  Beasley's  Sunday  shoes,  an'  lost  putty  nigh 
all  his  trade. 

"  Down  at  the  foot  o'  the  street  war  Mark  Rogers's  oyster 
sloop  lii'tsey  Jane,  lyin'  alongside  o'  the  wharf.  Ou  the 
wharf  war  about  ten  million  oyster  shells,  all  piled  up. 
'  Now,'  sez  I  to  myself,  sez  I,  '  here's  where  I've  got  to  stop 
the  bull.'  I  steered  the  colt  right  straight  at  that  reef  o' 
shells,  trustiu'  to  our  speed  an'  our  shaller  draft  to  carry  us 
right  over.  There  war  a  smash,  crash,  biff!  an'  over  we 
went.  Then  I  jumped  up,  grabbed  the  box  o' scrambled 
heggs,  an'  hove  'em  straight  iu  the  bull's  face.  Waal,  gol 
bust  me  if  that  there  bull  didn't  look  like  the  grau'father 
o'  all  omlets.  He  was  clean  blinded  fur  a  minute,  an'  he 
kicked  out  with  all  four  legs  iu  the  middle  o'  the  reef,  till 
the  air  war  white  with  flying  oyster  shells.  He  kicked  so- 
many  of  'em  into  the  bay  that  Mark  had  to  dredge  out  a 
new  channel.  Then  he  got  his  eyes  clear  a  minute  au'  he 
seed  me  a-laffin'.  He  jes  made  one  jump,  an'  he  got  under 
the  waggiu'  with'his  head.  The  next  thing  I  knowed  I 
war  in  the  bay.  That  there  bull  jes  picked  up  waggiu', 
colt,  an'  me,  au'  he  hove  us  straight  off  the  dock  an'  into 
the  bay." 

"And  what  happened  after  that  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Waal,  we  had  to  swim  out,  o'  course.  It  killed  the  colt, 
that  cold  bath  arter  beiu'  so  heated,  an'  the  waggiu'  was- 
busted  into  kiudliu'  wood.  An'  the  bull  ?  Oh,  yaas,  the 
bull.  Waal,  he  was  puffickly  satisfied,  an'  he  went  up  along, 
the  side  o'  the  road  an'  eat  grass  jes  as  if  he'd  never  did 
nothin'  else  in  all  his  life.  Now,  my  sou,  you  know  w'y  I 
don't  git  a  new  hoss  an'  waggiu'.  I  bin  there,  an'  w'eu  I 
bin  to  a  place  wot's  not  to  my  likiu'  I  knows  enough  not 
to  go  back.  Git  ep !" 


G48 


SNOW-SHOES    AND    SLEDGES. 


BY     KIRK     M  U  N  R  O  E. 


CHAPTER     XXXIII. 
LOST  IN   A   MOUNTAIN   BLIZZARD. 

fl^IRED  as  were  the  occupants  of  that  lonely  camp  after 
I  a  day  of  exhausting  climbing  through  the  timber, 
their  slumbers  "were  broken  and  restless.  The  uncertain- 
ties of  the  morrow,  the  peculiar  nature  of  the  road  they 
had  yet  to  travel,  and  the  excitement  consequent  upou 
Hearing  the  end  of  their  journey,  which  none  of  them  be- 
lieved to  be  over  fifty  miles  away,  all  combined  to  render 
them  wakeful  and  uneasy.  So  they  were  up  by  the  first 
sign  of  daylight,  and  off  before  sunrise. 

As  there  were  now  but  three  dogs  to  a  sledge,  the  load 
of  the  one  driven  by  Serge  was  divided  between  it  and  the 
one  that  brought  up  the  rear  in  charge  of  Jalap  Coombs. 
A  few  sticks  of  dry  wood  were  also  placed  on  each  sledge, 
so  that  in  crossing  the  upper  ice-fields  they  might  at  least 
be  able  to  melt  snow  for  drinking  purposes. 

"Now  for  it!"  cried  Phil,  cheerfully,  as  they  emerged 
from  the  scanty  timber,  and  shivered  in  the  chill  blast  that 
swept  down  from  the  towering  peaks  above  them.  Be- 
tween two  of  these  was  a  saddlelike  depression  that  they 
took  to  be  the  pass,  and  to  it  the  young  leader  determined 
to  guide  his  little  party. 

"Up  you  go,  Musky  !"  he  shouted.      "  Pull,  Luvtuk,  my 
pigeon!     Amook,  you  old  rascal,  show  what  you  are  good 
for!     A  little  more  work,  a  little  more  hunger,  and  then 
rest,  with  plenty  to  eat.    So  stir  your- 
selves and  climb!" 

With  this  the  long  whip-lash  whis- 
tled through  the  frosty  air,  and  crack- 
ed with  a  resounding  report  that 
would  have  done  credit  to  the  most 
expert  of  Eskimo  drivers,  for  our  Phil 
was  no  longer  a  novice  in  its  use,  and 
with  a  yelp  the  dogs  sprang  forward. 

Up,  up,  up  they  climbed,  until,  as 
Phil  remarked,  it  didn't  seem  as 
though  the  top  of  the  world  could  bo 
very  far  away.  The  sun  rose,  and 
IliHided  the  snow -fields  with  such 
dazzling  radiance  that, hut  for  their 
protecting  goggles  our  travellers  must 
have  been  completely  blinded  by  the 
glare.  The  deep  gulch  whose  wind- 
ings they  followed  held  in  summer- 
time a  roaring  torrent,  hut  now  it  was 
filled  with  solidly  packed  snow  from 
twenty-five  to  one  hundred  feet  deep. 

As  they  advanced  the  gulch  grew 
more  and  more  shallow,  until  at  length 
it  was  merged  iu  a  broad  uniform 
slope  so  steep  and  slippery  that  they 
were  obliged  to  cut  footholds  in  the 
snow,  and  at  frequent  intervals  carve 
out  little  benches  two  feet  wide. 
From  one  of  these  to  another  they 
dragged  the  sledges,  one  at  a  time, 
with  rawhide  ropes.  Even  the  dogs 
had  to  be  -assisted  up  the  glassy  in- 
cline, on  which  they  could  gain  no 
hold.  So  arduous  was  this  labor  that 
three  hours  were  spent  in  overcoming 
the  last  five  hundred  feet  of  the  as- 
cent. Thus  it  was  long  past  110011 
when,  breathless  and  exhausted,  the 
party  reached  the  summit,  or  rather 
a  slope  so  gentle  that  the  dogs  could 
once  more  drag  the  sledges. 

Here,  at  an  elevation  of  nearly  five 
thousand  feet  above  the  sea,  they 
paused  for  breath,  for  a  bite  of  lunch, 
and  for  a  last  look  over  the  way  they 
had  come.  From  this  elevation  their 
view  embraced  a  sweep  of  over  one  hun- 


dred miles  of  mountain  and  plain,  river  and  forest.  It  was 
so  far-reaching  and  boundless  that  it  even  seemed  as  if 
they  could  take  in  the  whole  vast  Yukon  Valley,  and  locate 
points  that  common-sense  told  them  were  a  thousand  miles 
beyond  their  range  of  vision.  Grand  as  was  the  prospect, 
they  did  n.ot  care  to  look  at  it  long.  Time  was  precious  ; 
the  air,  iu  spite  of  its  sunlight,  was  bitterly  chill,  and,  after 
all,  the  mighty  wilderness  now  behind  theui  held  too  many 
memories  of  hardship,  suffering,  and  danger  to  render  it  at- 
tractive. 

S",  "  Hurrah  for  the  coast !"  cried  Phil. 

"Hurrah  for  Sitka!"  echoed  Serge. 

"Hooray  for  salt  water!  Now,  bullies,  up  and  at 'em  !" 
roared  Jalap  Coombs,  expressing  a  sentiment,  and  an  order 
to  his  sailor-bred  dogs,  iu  a  breath. 

In  a  few  moments  more  the  wonderful  view  had  disap- 
peared, and  the  sledges  were  threading  their  way  amid  a 
chaos  of  gigantic  bowlders  and  snow -covered  landslides 
from  the  peaks  that  rose  on  both  sides.  There  was  no 
sharp  descent  from  the  summit,  such  as  they  had  hoped  to 
find,  but  instead  a  lofty  plateau  piled  thick  with  obstruc- 
tions. About  them  no  green  thing  was  to  be  seen,  no  sigu 
of  life;  only  snow,  ice, and  precipitous  cliifs  of  bare  rock. 
The  all-pervading  and  absolute  silence  was  awful.  There 
was  no  trail  that  might  be  followed,  for  the  hardiest  of  na- 
tives dared  not  attempt  that  crossing  in  the  winter.  Even 
if  they  had,  their  trail  would  have  been  obliterated  almost 


FOE    A    MOMENT    THE    SENSATION    WAS    SICKENING. 

649 


HARPER'S  ROUND   TABLE 


as  soon  as  made  by  tin1  tierce  storms  of  these  altitudes.  So 
tbeir  only  guide  u'as  that  of  general  direction,  which  they 
knew  to  be  south,  and  In  this  course  Phil  endeavored  to 
hold. 

That  night  they  made  a  chill  camp  iu  the  lee  of  a  great 
bowlder:  that  is. in  as  much  of  a  lee  as  could  be  had  where 
the  icy  blast  swept  in  circles  and  eddies  from  all  directions 
at  once.  They  started  afire,  butits  feeble  flame  wasao  blown 
hither  and  thither  that  by  the  time  a  kettle  of  snow  was 
melted,  and  the  ire  was  thawed  from  their  stew,  their  sup- 
ply of  wood  was  so  depleted  that  they  dared  not  use  more. 
So  they  ate  their  scanty  supper  without  tea, fed  the  dogs 
on  fro/en  porridge,  and  huddling  together  for  warmth  dur- 
ing the  long  hours  of  bleak  darkness  were  thankful  enough 
to  welcome  the  gray  dawn  that  brought  them  to  an  end. 

For  three  days  more  they  toiled  over  the  terrible  plateau. 
driven  to  long  detours  by  insurmountable  obstacles, buffeted 
and  lashed  by  fierce  snow-squalls  and  ice-laden  gales,  but 
ever  pushing  onward  with  unabated  courage,  expecting 
with  each  hour  to  find  themselves  descending  into  the  val- 
ley of  the  Chilcat  River.  Two  of  the  dogs  driven  by  Serge 
broke  down  so  completely  that  they  were  mercifully  shot. 
The  third  dog  was  added  to  Jalap  Coombs's  team,  and  the 
load  was  divided  between  the  remaining  sledges,  while  the 
now  useless  one  was  used  as  firewood.  After  that  Phil 
plodded  on  iu  advance,  and  Serge  drove  the  leading  team. 

The  fourth  day  of  this  terrible  work  was  one  of  leaden 
clouds  and  bitter  winds.  The  members  of  the  little  party 
were  growing  desperate  with  cold,  exhaustion,  and  hunger. 
Their  wanderings  had  not  brought  them  to  a  timber-line, 
and  as  poor  Phil  faced  the  blast  with  bowed  head  and 
chattering  teeth  it  seemed  to  him  that  to  be  once  more 
thoroughly  warm  would  be  the  perfection  of  human  happi- 
ness. 

It  was  already  growing  dnsk,and  he  was  anxiously  cast- 
ing about  for  the  sorry  shelter  of  some  bowlder  behind 
which  they  might  shiver  away  the  hours  of  darkness,  when 
he  came  to  the  verge  of  a  steep  declivity.  His  heart 
leaped  as  he  glanced  down  its  precipitous  face ;  for,  far  be- 
low, he  saw  a  dark  mass  that  he  knew  must,  be  timber. 
They  could  not  descend  at  that  point;  but  he  thought  he 
saw  one  that  appeared  more  favorable  a  little  further  on, 
and  hastened  iu  that  direction.  He  was  already  some  dis- 
tance ahead  of  the  slow-moving  sledges,  and  meant  to  wait 
for  them  as  soon  as  he  discovered  a  place  from  which  the 
descent  could  be  made. 

Suddenly  a  whirling,  blinding  cloud  of  snow  swept  down 
on  him  with  such  fury  that  to  face  it  and  breathe  was  im- 
possible. Thinking  it  but  a  squall,  he  turned  his  back  and 
stood  motionless,  waiting  for  it  to  pass  over.  Instead  of  so 
doing,  it  momentarily  increased  iu  violence  and  density.  A 
sudden  darkness  came  with  the  storm,  and  as  he  anxiously 
started  back  to  meet  the  sledges  he  could  not  see  one  rod 
before  him.  He  began  to  shout,  and  in  a  few  minutes  had 
the  satisfaction  of  hearing  an  answering  cry.  Directly 
afterwards  Serge  loomed  through  the  driving  cloud,  urging 
on  his1  reluctant  dogs  with  voice  and  whip.  The  moment 
they  were  allowed  to  stop,  Musky,  Luvtnk,  and  big  Amook 
lay  down  as  though  completely  exhausted. 

"  We  can't  go  a  step  further,  Phil !  We  must  make  camp 
at  once,"  panted  Serge.  "  This  storm  is  a  regular  poorga, 
and  will  probably  last  all  night. " 

"But  where  can  we  camp?"  asked  Phil,  in  dismay. 
"There  is  timber  down  below,  but  it  looks  miles  away,  and 
we  can't  get  to  it  now." 

"No,"  replied  Serge  ;  "  we  must  stay  where  we  are  and 
burrow  a  hole  in  this  drift  big  enough  to  hold  us.  We've 
got  to  do  it  in  a  hurry  too." 

So  saying,  Serge  drew  his  knife,  for  the  outside  of  the 
drift  close  to  which  they  were  halted  was  so  hard  packed 
as  t"  render  run  ing  necessary,  and  outlined  a  low  opening. 
From  this  he  removed  an  unbroken  slab,  and  then  began  to 
dig  furiously  in  the  soft  snow  beyond. 

Iu  the  meantime  Phil  was  wondering  why  Jalap  Coombs 
did  not  appear ;  for  he  had  supposed  him  to  be  close  behind 
Serge;  but  now  his  repeated  shoutings  gained  no  reply. 

"He  was  not  more  than  one  hundred  feet  behind  me 
when  the  storm  began,"  said  Serge,  whose  anxiety  caused 


him  to  pause  in  his  labor,  though  it  was  for  the  preserva- 
tion of  their  lives. 

••  He  must  be  in  some  trouble,"  said  Phil,  "  and  I  am  ^o- 
ing  back  to  tind  him." 

"You  cau't  go  alone!"  cried  Serge.  "  If  you  are  to  get 
lost,  I  must  go  with  yon." 

"No.  One  of  us  must  stay  here  with  Nel-te,  and  it  is 
my  duty  to  go;  but  do  you  shout  every  few  seconds,  and  I 
promise  not  to  go  beyond  sound  of  your  voice." 

Thus  saying,  Phil  started  back,  and  was  instantly  swal- 
low e,l  iii  the  vortex  of  the  blizzard.  Faithfully  did  Serge 
sin. ut.  and  faithfully  did  Phil  answer,  for  nearly  fifteen 
minutes.  Then  the  latter  came  staggering  back,  with  hor- 
ror-stricken face  and  voice. 

"  I  can't  find  him,  Serge!  Oh,  I  can't  find  him  !"  he  cried. 
"I  am  afraid  he  has  gone  over  the  precipice.  If  he  has,  it 
is  my  fault,  and  I  shall  never  forgive  myself,  for  I  had  no 
business  to  go  so  far  ahead  and  let  the  party  get  scat- 
tered." 

Serge  answered  not  a  word,  but  fell  with  desperate  en- 
ergy to  the  excavating  of  his  snow-house.  His  heart  was 
nigh  breaking  with  the  sorrow-  that  had  overtaken  them, 
but  he  was  determined  that  no  other  lives  should  be  lost  if 
his  efforts  could  save  them.  The  excavation  was  soon  so 
large  that  Phil  could  work  with  him,  but  with  all  their 
furious  digging  they  secured  a  shelter  from  the  pitiless 
jii>i>ri/<t  none  too  soon.  The  sledge  was  already  buried  from 
sight,  and  poor  little  Xel-te  was  wellnigh  smothered  ere 
they  lifted  him  from  it  and  pulled  him  into  the  burrow. 

CHAPTER     XXXIV. 
COASTING    FIVE    MILES    IN    FIVE    MINUTES. 

IN  spite  of  their  faint-ness  and  weakness  from  hunger 
and  exhaustion,  Phil  and  Serge  were  so  stimulated  by  the 
emergency  that  within  half  an  hour  they  had  dug  a  cavity 
in  the  great  drift  sufficiently  large  to  hold  the  three  dogs 
as  well  as  themselves.  The  excavation  was  driven  straight 
for  a  few  feet,  and  then  turned  to  one  side,  where  it  was  so 
enlarged  that  they  could  either  lie  down  or  sit  up.  Into 
this  diminutive  chamber  they  dragged  their  robes  and  sleep- 
ing-bags. The  shivering  dogs  crept  iu  and  curled  up  at 
their  feet.  The  sledge  was  left  outside,  and  the  opening 
was  closed  as  well  as  might  be  by  the  slab  of  compacted 
snow  that  had  been  cut  from  it.-  Poor  little  Nel-te,  who 
was  numbed  and  whimpering  with  cold  and  hunger,  was 
rubbed  into  a  glow,  comforted  and  petted,  until  at  length 
he  fell  asleep,  nestled  between  the  lads,  and  then  they 
found  time  to  talk  over  their  situation.  For  a  while  they 
had  no  thought  save  for  the  dear  friend  and  trusty  com- 
rade, who,  alive  or  dead,  was  still  out  in  that  terrible  storm, 
and,  as  they  believed,  lost  to  them  forever. 

"  I  don't  suppose  there  is  the  faintest  hope  of  ever  seeing 
him  again, "said  Phil.  "If  he  went  over  the  precipice  he 
must  have  been  killed,  and  is  buried  deep  in  the  snow  by 
this  time.  Even  if  he  did  riot,  and  is  still  wandering  some- 
where iu  this  vicinity,  he  must  perish  before  morning.  Oh, 
Serge,  can't  we  do  anything  for  him?  It  makes  me  feel 
like  a  cowardly  traitor  to  be  sitting  here  in  comfort  while 
the  dear  old  chap  may  be  close  at  hand,  and  perishing  for 
want  of  our  help.  And  it  is  my  fault,  too!  The  fault  of 
my  inexcusable  carelessness.  It  seems,  old  man,  as  if  I 
should  go  crazy  with  thinking  of  it." 

"  But  you  mustn't  think  of  it  in  that  way,  Phil,"  answered 
Serge,  soothingly.  "As  leader  of  the  party  it  was  your 
duty  to  go  ahead  and  pick  out  the  road,  while  it  was  ours 
to  keep  yon  iu  sight.  If  either  of  us  is  to  blame  for  what 
has  happened.  I  am  the  one.  I  should  have  looked  back 
ofteuer  and  made  sure  that  he  was  still  close  behind  me. 
Now  there  is  nothing  we  can  do  except  wait  for  daylight 
and  the  end  of  the  storm.  We  have  our  parents,  this  child, 
and  ourselves  to  think  of  first.  Nor  could  we  accomplish 
anything  even  if  we  tried.  The  storm  has  doubled  in  fnry 
sinee  we  halted. '  'A  foot  of  snow  must  already  have  fallen, 
ami  to  venture  a  single  rod  outside  of  this  place  would  serve 
to  lose  us  as  certainly  as  though  we  went  a  mile.  We 
mustn't  give  up  all  hope,  though.  Mr.  Coombs  is  very 
strong,  and  well  used  to  exposure.  Of  course,  if  he  has 


650 


HARPER'S   EOUND   TABLE 


goue  over  the  precipice  there  is  little  chauce  that  we  shall 
ever  see  him  agaiu ;  but  if  lie  escaped  it,  and  has  made 
a  burrow  for  himself  like  this  one,  he  will  pull  through 
all  right,  aud  I  feel  sure  we  shall  find  him  iu  the  moru- 
ing." 

••  Why  haven't  we  dug  places  like  this  before  ?"  asked 
Phil.  "It  is  actually  getting  warm  and  comfortable  in 
here.  We  might  have  had  just  such  a  warm  cave  every 
night  that  we  have  been  iu  the  mountains  and  spent  so 
miserably." 

"Of  course  we  might,"  agreed  Serge,  "aud  we  would 
have  had,  but  for  my  stupidity  iu  not  thinking  of  it  sooner. 
While  I  never  took  refuge  iu  one  before,  I  have  often  heard 
of  them,  and  ought  to  have  remembered.  I  didn't,  though, 
until  this  storm  struck  us,  and  I  knew  that  without  shelter 
we  must  certainly  perish.'' 

•'  If  you  hadn't  thought  of  a  suo\v-burrow,"  said  Phil,  "it 
is  certain  I  never  should.  It  is  snug,  though,  and  if  only 
poor  Jalap  were  with  us,  aud  we  had  food  and  a  light  of 
some  kind,  I  wouldn't  ask  for  a  better  shelter.  I  can  under- 
stand now  how  an  Eskimo  stone  lamp,  with  seal  oil  for  fuel, 
and  a  wick  of  moss,  can  give  out  all  the  heat  that  is  needed 
iu  one  of  their  suow  Uuts,  and  I  only  wish  we  had  brought 
one  with  us." 

After  this  the  boys  grew  drowsy,  their  conversation 
slackened,  aud  soon  all  their  troubles  were  forgotten  iu 
sleep.  Outside  through  the  long  hours  the  gale  roared 
and  shrieked  wi,th  impotent  rage  at  their  escape  from  its 
clutches.  It  hurled  its  suow  legions  against  their  place 
of  refuge  until  it  was  deep  buried,  and  then  in  a  frenzv 
tore  away  aud  scattered  the  drifted  accumulation,  until 
it  could  once  more  beat  directly  upon  their  slender  wall 
"f  ill-fence.  But  its  wiles  and  its  furious  attacks  were  alike 
in  vain,  aud  at  length  its  fierce  ravings  sank  into  whispers. 
The  j«x»v/«  spent  its  force  with  the  darkness,  and  at  daylight 
had  swept  on  to  inland  fields,  leaving  only  an  added  burden 
of  millions  of  tons  of  suow  to  mark  its  passage  across  the 
mountains. 

When  the  boys  awoke  a  soft  white  light  was  filtering 
through  one  side  of  their  spotless  chamber,  and  they  knew 
that  day  bad  come.  They  expected  to  dig  their  way  to 
the  outer  air  through  a  great  mass  of  snow,  and  were 
agreeably  surprised  to  find  only  a  small  drift  against  the 
doorway.  As  they  emerged  from  it  they  were  for  a  few 
minutes  blinded  by  the  marvellous  brilliancy  of  their  sun- 
lit surroundings.  Gradually  becoming  accustomed  to  the 
intense  light,  they  gazed  eagerly  about  for  some  sign  of 
their  missing  comrade,  but  there  was  none.  They  followed 
back  for  a  mile  over  the  way  they  had  come  the  evening 
before,  shouting  aud  firing  their  guns,  but  without  avail. 

No  answering  shout  came  back  to  their  straining  ears, 
and  there  was  nothing  to  indicate  the  fate  of  the  lost  man. 
Sadly  aud  soberly  the  lads  retraced  their  steps,  aud  pre- 
pared to  resume  their  journey.  To  remain  longer  in  that 
place  meant  starvation  aud  death.  To  save  themselves 
they  must  push  on. 

They  shuddered  at  the  precipice  they  had  escaped,  and 
over  which  they  feared  their  comrade  had  plunged.  At  its 
foot  lay  a.  valley,  which,  though  it  trended  westward,  and 
so  away  from  their  course,  Phil  determined  to  follow  ;  for. 
far  below  their  lofty  perch,  and  still  miles  away  from  where 
they  stood,  it  held  the  dark  mass  he  had  seen  the  night  be- 
fore, and  knew  to  be.  timber.  Besides,  his  sole  desire  at 
that  moment  was  to  escape  from  those  awful  heights  aud 
reach  the  coast  at  some  point;  he  hardly  cared  whether  it 
were  inhabited  or  not. 

So  the  sledge  was  dug  from  its  bed  of  snow  aud  reload- 
ed; the  dogs  were  harnessed.  Poor  little  Xel-te, crying  with 
hunger,  was  slipped  into  his  fur  travelling-bag,  and  a  -tart 
was  made  to  search  for  some  point  of  descent.  At  length 
they  found  a  place  where  the  slope  reached  to  tho  very  top 
of  the  cliff,  but  so  sharply  that  it  was  like  the  roof  of  a 
house  several  miles  in  length. 

••  I  hate  the  looks  of  it,"  said  Phil,  "but  as  there  doesn't 
seem  to  be  any  other  way,  I  suppose  we've  got  to  try  it.  I 
should  say  that  for  at  least  three  miles  it  was  as  steep  as 
the  steepest  part  of  a  toboggan  slide,  though,  and  I'm 
pretty  certain  we  sha'u't  care  to  try  it  more  than  ouce." 


"I  guess  we  can  do  it  all  right,"  replied  Serge,  "but 
there's  only  one  way,  aud  that  is  to  sit  on  a  snow-shoe  and 
slide.  We  couldn't  keep  on  our  feet  a  single  second." 

They  lifted  Xel-te,  fur  bag  and  all,  from  the  sledge,  tight- 
ened the  lashings  of  its  load,  which  included  the  guns  and 
extra  snow-shoes,  and  started  it  over  the  verge.  It  flashrd 
down  the  declivity  like  a  rocket,  and  the  last  they  saw  of 
it 'it  was  rolling  over  and  over. 

"Looks  cheerful,  doesn't  it  ?"  said  Phil,  firmly.  "Now 
I'll  go  ;  then  do  you  start  the  dogs  down,  and  come  yourself 
as  i|uick  as  you  please." 

Thus  saying,  the  plucky  lad  seated  himself  on  a  snow- 
shoe,  took  Nel-te,  still  iu  the  fur  bag,  iu  his  lap,  and  launch- 
ed himself  over  the  edge  of  the  cliff.  For  a  moment  the 
sensation,  which  was  that  of  falling  from  a  great  height, 
was  sickening,  and  a  thick  mist  seemed  to  obscure  his 
vision. 

Then  if,  cleared  away,  aud  was  followed  by  a  feel- 
ing of  the  wildest  exhilaration  as  he  heard  the 'whistling 
backward  rush  of  air,  and  realized  the  tremendous  speed  at 
which  he  was  whizzing  through  space.  Ere  it  seemed  pos- 
sible that  he  could  have  goue  half-way  to  the  timber-line 
trees  began  to  fly  past  him,  and  he  knew  that  the  worst 
was  over.  In  another  minute  he  was  floundering  in  a 
drift  of  soft  suow,  iuto  which  he  had  plunged  up  to  his 
neck,  aud  tho  perilous  feat  was  successfully  accom- 
plished. 

Poor  Serge  arrived  at  the  same  point  shortly  afterwards, 
head  first,  and  dove  out  of  sight  in  the.  drift;  but  fortu- 
nately Phil  was  in  a  position  to  extricate  him  before  he 
smothered.  The  dogs  appeared  a  moment  later,  with  some- 
what less  velocity,  but  badly  demoralized,  aud  evidently 
feeling  that  they  had  been  sadly  ill-treated  by  their 
driver.  So  the  sledge  party  had  safely  descended  in  five 
minutes  a  distance  equal  to  that  which  they  had  spent  half 
a  day  aud  infinite  toil  in  ascending  on  the  other  side  of 
the  mountains. 

When  Nel-te  was  released  from  the  fur  bag  aud  set  ou 
his  feet  he  was  as  calm  aud  self- possessed  as  though  nothing 
out  of  the  usual  had  happened,  and  immediately  demanded 
something  to  eat. 

After  a  long  search  they  discovered  the  sledge,  with  only 
one  rail  broken  aud  its  load  intact. 

"Now  for  a  fire  and  breakfast !''  cried  Phil,  heading  tow- 
ards the  timber,  as  soon  as  the  original  order  of  things 
was  restored.  "After  that  we  will  make  one  more  effort 
to  fiud  some  trace  of  poor  Jalap,  though  I  don't  believe 
there  is  the  slightest  chance  of  success." 

They  entered  the  forest  of  wide-spreading  but  stunted 
evergreens,  and  Phil,  axe  in  hand,  was  vigorously  attacking 
a  dead  spruce,  wheu  an  exclamation  from  his  companion 
caused  him  to  pause  in  his  labor  and  look  around.  "What 
can  that  be?"  asked  Serge,  pointing  to  a  thick  hemlock 
that  stood  but  a  few  yards  from  them.  The  lower  end  of 
its  drooping  branches  were  deep  buried  iu  snow,  but  such 
part  as  was  still  visible  was  in  a  strange  state  of  agita- 
tion. 

"  It  must  be  a  bear,"  replied  Phil,  dropping  his  axe  and 
springing  to  the  sledge  for  his  rifle.  "His  winter  den  is 
there,  and  we  have  disturbed  him.  Get  out  your  gun — 
quick!  We  can't  afford  to  lose  him.  Meat's  too  scarce  in 
camp  just  now."  Even  as  he  spoke,  and  before  the  guns 
could  be  takeu  from  their  moose-skin  cases,  the  motion  of 
the  branches  increased,  then  came  a  violent  upheaval  of 
the  suow  that  weighted  them  down,  and  the  boys  caught  a 
glimpse  of  some  huge  shaggy  animal  issuing  from  the  pow- 
dered whiteuess. 

"Hurry!"  cried  Phil.  "No,  look  out!  We're  too  late! 
What  ?  Great  Scott !  It  can't  be.  Yes,  it  is  !  Hurrah  ! 
Glory,  hallelujah  !  I  knew  he'd  pull  through  all  right,  and 
I  believe  I'm  the  very  happiest  fellow  in  all  the  world  at 
this  minute." 

••  Mebbe  you  be,  son,"  remarked  Jalap  Coombs,  "and 
then  again  mebbe  there's  others  as  is  equally  joyful.  As 
my  old  friend  Kite  Eoberson  uster  say, '  A  receiver's  as  good 
as  a  thief,'  aud  I  sartainly  received  a  heap  of  pleasure 
through  hearing  you  holler  jest  now." 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


651 


STORIES    OF     AMERICAN     LITERATURE. 


BY    HENRIETTA    CHRISTIAN    WRIGHT. 


JAMES     F  E  N  I  M  0  R  E     C  0  0  P  E  R. 


LATE  in  the  eighteenth  century  the  Tillage  of  CoQpers- 
town  lay  almost  in  the  midst  of  the  primeval  forest, 
which  extended  for  miles  around.  Here  the  future  novel- 
ist James  Fenimore  Cooper  had  been  brought  while  yet  an 
infant  by  his  father,  who  had  built  the  family  mansion,  Ot- 
sego  Hail,  iu  this  secluded  spot,  far  from  the  highways  of 
travel,  designing  to  make  it  the  centre  of  a  settlement  of 
siinie  note,  if  possible.  Here,  as  the  boy  grew  older,  he 
learned  wood-lore  as  the  young  Indians  learned  it,  face  to 
face  with  the  divinity  of  the  forest.  He  knew  the  language 
of  the  wild  animals,  and  could  distinguish  their  calls  far 
across  the  gloomy  spaces  of  the  wood ;  he  could  follow  the 
deer  and  bear  to  their  retreats  iu  dim  secluded  recesses ; 
he  could  trace  the  path  of  the  retreating  wolf  by  the 
broken  cobwebs  glistening  iu  the  early  sunlight;  and  the 
crv  of  the  panther  to  its  mate  high  overhead  in  the  inter- 
lacing boughs  of  the  pines  and  hemlocks  was  of  a  sj 
as  familiar  as  his  own  tongue. 
When  he  was  thirsty  he  made  a 
hunter's  cup  of  glossy  leaves  and 
drauk  iu  true  Indian  fashion  ;  when 
fatigued,  ho  could  lie  down  and  rest 
with  that  feeling  of  security  that 
only  comes  to  the  forest-bred ;  when 
thoughtful,  he  could  learn  from  the 
lap  of  the  waves  against  the.  shore, 
the  murmur  of  leaves,  and  the  rus- 
tle of  wiugs  those  lessons  which 
Nature  teaches  in  her  quiet  moods. 

These  experiences  and  impressions 
sauk  into  Cooper's  heart,  and  were 
relived  again  long  after  in  the  pages 
of  his  romances  with  such  vividness 
that  they  are  plainly  seen  to  be  real 
memories. 

Leaving  his  home  while  still  a 
young  boy,  Cooper  went  to  Albany 
to  study  under  a  private  tutor,  and 
in  1803  entered  Yale  College,  which, 
owiug  to  some  trouble  with  the  au- 
thorities, he  left  in  the  third  year  of 
his  course.  It  was  now  decided  that 
he  should  enter  the  uavy,  and  he 
left  New  York  in  the  autumn  of  1806, 
being  then  in  his  fifteenth  year,  on 
a  vessel  of  the  merchant  marine. 
There  was  then  no  Naval  Academy 
iu  America,  and  a  boy  could  only  fit 
himself  for  entering  the  navy  be- 
fore  the  mast;  his  ship,  the  Sterling, 
visiting  Portugal  and  Spain,  carry - 
inu  cargoes  from  port  to  port,  and  taking  life  in  a  leisure- 
ly manner  that  belonged  to  the  merchant  sailing-vessels 
of  that  day.  It  was  a  time  of  interest  to  all  seamen,  and 
Cooper's  mind  was  keenly  alive  to  the  new  life  around  him. 
The  English  were  expecting  a  French  invasion,  and  the 
channel  was  full  of  ships  of  war,  while  every  port  on  the 
soul  hern  coast  was  arming  for  defence.  The  Mediterranean 
was  yet  subject  to  incursions  of  the  Barbary  pirates,  who 
would  descend  uuder  cover  of  night  upon  any  unprotected 
merchant- vessel,  steal  the  cargo,  scuttle  the  ship,  and  carry 
away  the  crew  to  be  sold  as  slaves  to  the  Tripolitau  and 
Algerian  husbandmen,  whose  orchards  of  dates  were  culti- 
vated by  many  a  white  person  from  across  the  Atlantic,  held 
there  in  cruel  slavery. 

The  waters  of  the  Mediterranean  were  full  of  merchant- 
men of  all  nations.  Here,  side  by  side,  could  be  seen  the 
Italian,  French,  and  English  sailor,  while  the  flags  of 
Russia,  Turkey,  Egypt,  and  Greece  dotted  the  farther 
horizon. 

Cooper  passed  through  all  these  stirring  scenes,  known 
to  those  around  him  only  as  a  boy  before  the  mast,  but  in 
reality  the  clever  student  and  observer  of  men  and  events. 


HE  DISTlXGflSHED  THE  CALL  OF  ANIMALS. 


His  work  was  hard  and  dangerous  ;  he  was  never  admitted 
to  the  cabin,  though  an  equal,  socially,  to  the  officers  of  the 
ship ;  in  storm  or  wind  or  other  danger  his  place  was  on 
the  deck  among  the  rough  sailors,  who  were  his  only  com- 
panions during  the  voyage.  But  this  training  developed 
the  good  material  that  was  iu  him, and  when,  iu  1808,  he 
received  his  commission  as  midshipman,  he  entered  the 
service  better  equipped  for  his  duties  perhaps  than  many 
a  graduate  of  Annapolis  to-day. 

Cooper  remained  iu  the  navy  three  years  and  a  half,  see- 
ing no  active  service.  He  finally  resigned  his  commission, 
and  passed  several  succeeding  years  of  his  life  partly  in 
Westchester  County,  New  York,  and  partly  in  Cooperstowu, 
and  having  no  ambition  beyond  living  the  quiet  life  of  a 
country  gentleman. 

It  was  not  until  1820,  when  he  was  in  his  thirty- first 
year,  that  he  produced  his  first  book  or  novel  of  English 
life,  which  showed  no  talent,  and 
which  even  his  most  ardent  admi- 
rers in  after- years  could  not  read 
through.  It  was  not  until  the  next 
year,  1821,  that  a  novel  appeared 
from  the  hand  of  Cooper  which 
foreshadowed  the  greatness  of  his 
fame,  and  struck  a  new  note  in 
American  literature.  American  so- 
ciety was  at  that  time  alive  with 
the  stirring  memories  of  the  Revo- 
lution. Men  and  women  were  still 
active  who  could  recall  the  victo- 
ries of  Bunker  Hill  and  Trenton,  and 
who  had  shared  iu  the  disasters  of 
Monmouth  and  Long  Island.  It  is 
natural  that  in  choosing  a  subject 
for  fiction  he  should  turn  to  the  re- 
cent struggle  for  his  inspiration,  and 
American  literature  owes  a  large 
debt  to  him  who  thus  threw  into  lit- 
erary form  the  spirit  of  those  thrill- 
ing times. 

His  first  important  novel,  Tlic  Sj>i/, 
was  founded  upon  a  story  which 
Cooper  had  heard  many  years  before, 
and  which  had  made  a  profound  im- 
pression upon  him.  It  was  tin- 
story  of  a  veritable  spy,  who  had 
been  iu  the  service  of  one  of  the 
liV\  olutionary  leaders,  and  whoso 
daring  and  heroic  adventures  were 
related  to  Cooper  by  the  man  who 
had  employed  him. 

Cooper  took  this  old  spy  for  his  hero,  kept  the  sc^ue  in 
Westchester,  where  the  man  had  really  performed  his  won- 
derful feats,  and  from  these  facts  wove  the  most  thrilling 
and  vital  piece  of  fiction  that  had  appeared  in  America. 

The  novel  appeared  in  December,  1821,  aud  in  a  few 
mouths  it  was  apparent  that  a  new  star  had  risen  in  the 
literary  skies.  The  book  made  Cooper  famous  both  -in 
America  and  Europe.  It  was  published  in  England  by  the 
same  publisher  who  had  brought  out  Irviug's  Sketeli-BooJc., 
and  it  met  with  a  success  that  spoke  highly  for  its  merit, 
since  the  story  was  one  telling  of  English  defeat  and  Amer- 
ican triumph.  It  was  put  into  French  by  the  translator 
of  the  Waverley  novels,  and  before  long  versions  appeared 
in  every  tongue  in  Europe.  It  was  regarded  not  merely 
as  a  talc  of  ad\  cnture  in  a  new  department  of  story-telling, 
but  it  was  generally  conceded  to  be  a  fine  piece  of  lietimi 
in  itself,  and  its  hero,  Harvey  Birch,  won,  and  has  kept  for 
himself,  a  place  hardly  second  to  any  creation  of  literature'. 
Cooper  had  now  fouud,his  sphere,  and  his  best  work 
henceforth  was  that  in  which  he  delineated  the  features 
of  American  history  during  the  struggle  for  independence. 
His  greatest  contributions  toliterature  are  found  in  the  short 


652 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


•series  of  novels  called  "The 
Leather-stocking  Tales,"  and  iu 
ills  novels  of  the  sea.  "The 
Leatherstocking  Tales  "consist 
•of  five  stories,  in  winch  the 
same  hero  figures  from  first  to 
last.  The  series  began  with 
the  publication  of  Cooper's 
second  novel,  The  Pioneers,  but 
the  story  of  the  hero  really  be- 
gins iu  the  fascinating  pages 
•of  The  Deerslnyer,  where  he  is 
represented  iu  the  first  stage 
of  his  career. 

The  series  grew  much  as 
Tennyson's  Idylls  of  the  Kimj 
.grew,  the  same  man  being 
introduced  iu  different  parts 
of  his  career,  though  each  sep- 
arate book  did  not  follow  iu 
•exact  order  from  the  author's 
hand.  The  success  of  The 
Pioneers  was  remarkable.  Thir- 
ty-five hundred  copies  were 
sold  before  uoou  on  the  day 
of  publication,  and  although, 
perhaps,  the  least  powerful  of 
the  "Tales, "it  was  read  with 
the  same  interest  that  had 
been  given  to  T7«-  Spy. 

Iu  the  new  novel  Leather-stocking  was  first  introduced 
as  the  philosopher  of  nature,  ignorant  of  books,  but  wise  in 
the  lore  that  is  taught  by  the  voices  of  Nature.  It  is  a 
story  of  the  primitive  life  of  the  frontiersmen  of  that  day, 
and  their  occupations,  interests,  anil  ambitions  form  the, 
background  to  the  picture  of  the  hero,  Leatberstockiug, 
who  embodies  the  author's  idea  of  chivalrous  manhood, 
and  whose  creation  is  one  of  the  uoblest  achievements  of 
fiction. 

The  scene  of  The  Pioneers  was  laid  iu  the  vicinity  of 
Cooper's  boyhood  home,  and  all  the  exquisite  pictures 
wrought  iuto  the  setting  are  vivid  and  lifelike  illustra- 
tions of  the  little  frontier  village,  where  rnau  received  his 
sustenance  first  hand  from  Nature,  and  where  all  his  sur- 
roundings partook  almost  of  the  simplicity  of  the  first  ages 
of  the  world.  It  was  an  appropriate  theatre  for  the  actions 
of  that  rustic  philosopher  Lentherstockiug,  and  there  is  a 
veiu  of  tender  reminiscence  through  the  book  that  must 
always  give  it  a  charm  apart  from  the  rest,  though  iu  itself 
it  is  the  least  perfect  story  of  the  series. 

The  story  of  Leatherstocking  begins  in  The  Deersl/ii/i  i , 
though  it  was  not  written  until  twenty  years  after  the 
publication  of  The  Pioneers.  The  scene  was  laid  on  Otsego 


COOPER    READING 


HIS    PLACE    WAS    ON    THE    DECK    AMONG    THE    SAILORS. 


Lake,  and  the  character  of  Leatherstocking  was  drawn  as 
that  of  a  young  scout  just  entering  upon  manhood.  The 
next  year,  18-11,  came  The  Pathfinder,  having  for  its  back- 
ground the  shores  of  Lake  Ontario,  with  which  Cooper  had 
become  familiar  during  the  winter  there  iu  the  service  of 
the  navy. 

In  these  two  books  Cooper  reached  the  highest  point  of 
his  art.  Leatherstocking  appears  in  The  lleerntiiyer  as  a 
young  rnau  full  of  the  promise  of  a  noble  manhood.  And 
this  ideal  character  is  developed  through  a  succession  of 
stirring  adventures,  the  like  of  which  are  to  be  found  only 
iu  the  pages  of  Scott.  Side  by  side  with  Leatherstockiug 
stand  those  pictures  of  Indian  character,  which  became  so 
famous  that  the  Indian  of  that  day  has  passed  iuto  history 
as  represented  by  Cooper. 

The  Pathfinder  carries  Leatherstocking  through  some  of 
the  most  exciting  episodes  of  his  adventurous  career,  and 
belongs  to  the  same  part  of  bis  life  as  The  Lust  of  tin-  Mnlii- 
euim,  published  sixteen  years  before,  the  scene  of  which  is 
laid  near  Lake  Cbamplaiu.  Tin-  Laxt  of  the  Mohicans  takes 
rank  with  Tin-  Decrxluyer  and  The  Pathfinder  in  represent- 
ing Cooper  at  his  best.  In  these  three  novels  we  see  Lea- 
therstockiug as  a  man  in  the  prime  of  life  battling  with 
the  stirring  events  that  were  making  the 
history  of  the  country.  All  the  story  of 
the  war  of  the  white  mau  with  nature,  with 
circumstances,  and  with  bis  red  brother  in 
civilizing  the  frontier,  is  told  in  these  books. 
It  is  the  romance  of  real  history,  and  Leath- 
erstocking had  his  prototype  iu  many  a 
brave  frontiersman  whose  deeds  were  un- 
recorded, and  whose  name  was  never  known 
beyond  bis  owu  little  circle  of  friends. 

Iu  The  Pioneers  Leatherstocking  has  be- 
come an  old  mau  who  has  sought  a  borne  in 
the  forest  to  avoid  the  noise  and  strife  of 
civilized  life,  and  he  closes  bis  career  iu  The 
Prairie,  a  novel  of  the  plains  of  the  great 
West,  whither  the  old  mau  has  gone  to 
spend  his  last  days.  It  is  the  story  of  a 
lonely  life  of  the  prairie-hunter  of  those 
days,  whose  love  for  solitude  has  led  him 
far  from  even  the  borders  of  the  frontier, 
and  whose  dignified  death  is  a  fitting  end- 
ing to  his  noble  and  courageous  life.  It  is 
supposed  that  this  end  to  Leatherstockin^'s 
career  was  suggested  to  Cooper  by  the  ever- 
famous  Daniel  Booue,  aud  some  of  the  inci- 


AN    OLD    SHIPMATE. 


653 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


dents  ul'  the  storj  read  like  real  life.  One  of  Cooper's 
must  famous  descriptions— that  of  the  prairie  on  tin — 
occurs  in  tins  I k  — ;i  scene  excelled  only  by  the  descrip- 
tion i. I'lli.'  panther-tight  in  Tlif  Pioneers, or  the  combat  be- 
tween Deerslayer  aud  his  foe. 

; 'ooper  began  his  scries  of  sea  novels  by  the  publication 
of  Tin  I'iliit  in  l-.M.and  stands  as  the  creator  of  this  de- 
partment lit'  lictinii.  He  was  the  first  novelist  to  bring 
int. i  tietion  the  nrdinary,  every-clay  life  of  the  sailor  afloat, 
whether  employed  on  a  merchant  vessel  or  lighting  hand 
to  hand  in  :i  naval  encounter.  Scott's  novel,  The  1'ii'nli, 
had  been  criticised  by  Cooper  as  the  evident  work  of  a  man 
who  had  never  been  at  sea,  and  to  prove  how  much  better 
an  effect  could  he  produced  by  one  familiar  with  ocean  life 
he  bewail  his  story,  Tin  1'ilnl. 

The  period  of  the  story  is  the  American  Revolution,  and 
the  hero  was  that  famous  adventurer  John  Paul  Jones, intro- 
duced under  another  name.  It  was  such  a  new  thing  to 
put  into  fiction  the  technicalities  of  ship  life,  to  describe 
the  details  of  au  evolution  in  a  naval  battle,  and  to  throw 
in  as  background  the  vast  and  varying  panorama  of  sea 
and  sky,  that  Cooper,  familiar  as  he  was  with  ocean  life,  felt 
some  doubt  of  his  success.  In  order  to  test  his  powers,  he 
read  one  day  to  an  old  shipmate  that  famous  account  of  the 
pa^age  of  the  ship  through  the  narrow  channel  in  one  of 
the  thrilling  chapters  of  the  yet  unfinished  work.  The  ef- 
fect was  all  that  Cooper  could  desire.  The  old  sailor  got 
into  snch  a  fury  of  excitement  thai  lie  could  not  keep  his 
seat,  but  paced  up  and  down  the  room  while  Cooper  was 


reading;  in  his  excitement  he  was  for  a  moment  living  over 
anain  a  stormy  scene  from  his  own  life;  aud  the  novelist 
laid  down  the  manuscript,  well  pleased  with  the  result  of 
his  experiment.  The  Pilot  met  with  an  instant  success 
both  in  America  and  Europe.  As  it  was  his  first,  so  it  is 
perhaps  his  best  sea  story.  In  it  he  put  all  the  freshness 
of  reminiscence,  all  the  haunting  memories  of  ocean  life 
that  had  followed  him  since  his  boyhood  days.  It  was  bio- 
graphical in  the  same  sense  as  The  1'immi-x,  a  part  of  the 
romance  of  childhood  drafted  into  the  reality  of  after- 
life. 

Red  Hnri'i;  the  next  sea  story,  came  out  in  1828.  Other 
novelists  had  begun  to  write  tales  of  the  sen,  but  they  were 
mere  imitations  of  The  PU/it.  In  the  1'ail  Itnn-i-  the  genuine 
adventures  of  the  sailor  class  were  again  embodied  in  the 
thrilling  narrative  that  Cooper  alone  knew  how  to  write, 
and  from  its  first  appearance  it  has  always  been  one  of  the 
most  popular  of  the  author's  works.  In  these  pages  occurs 
that  dramatic  description  of  the  last  sea  fight  of  Red  Rover, 
one  of  Cooper's  finest  achievements. 

Cooper's  popularity  abroad  was  equalled  only  by  that  of 
Scott.  His  works  as  soon  as  published  were  translated  into 
almost  every  tongue  of  Europe,  and  were  sold  in  Turkey, 
Prussia,  Egypt,  and  Jerusalem  in  the  language  of  those 
countries.  It  was  said  by  a  traveller  that  the  middle  classes 
of  Europe  had  gathered  all  their  knowledge  of  American 
history  from  Cooper's  works,  and  that  they  had  never  un- 
derstood the  character  of  American  independence  until  re- 
vealed by  this  novelist. 


PRIZE  =  STORY      COMPETITION. 


FIRST-PRIZE    STORY. 

Betty's  Ride:  A  Tale  of  the  Revolution. -By  Henry  S.  Canby. 


THE  sun  was  just  rising  and  showering  his  first  rays  on 
the  gambrel-ronf  and  solid  stone  walls  of  a  house  sur- 
rounded by  a  magnificent  grove  of  walnuts,  and  overlook- 
ing one  of  the  beautiful  valleys  so  common  in  southeastern 
Pennsylvania.  Close  by  the  house,  aud  shaded  by  the 
same  great  trees,  stood  a  low  building  of  the  most  seven' 
type,  whose  time-stained  bricks  aud  timbers  green  with 
moss  told  its  age  without  the  aid  of  the  half-obliterated 
inscription  over  the  door,  which  read,  "  Built  A.  D.  1720." 
Oue  familiar  with  the  country  would  have  pronounced  it 
\\ithoitt  hesitation  a  Quaker  meeting-house,  dating  back 
almost  to  the  time  of  William  Penu. 

When  Ezra  Dale  had  become  the  leader  of  the  little  band 
of  Quakers  which  gathered  here  every  First  Day,  he  had 
built  the  house  under  the  walnut-trees,  and  had  taken  his 
wife  Ann  and  his  little  daughter  Betty  to  live  there. 
That  was  in  1770.  seven  years  earlier,  and  before  war  had 
wrought  sorrow  and  desolation  throughout  the  country. 

The  sun  rose  higher,  and  just  as  his  beams  touched  the 
broad  stone  step  in  front  of  I  he  house  the  door  opened,  and 
Ann  Dale,  a  sweet-faced  woman  in  the  plain  Quaker  garb, 
came  out,  followed  by  Betty,  a  little  blue-eyed  Quakeress 
of  twelve  years,  with  a  gleam  of  spirit  in  her  face  which 
ill  became  her  plain  dress. 

••  Hetty,"  said  her  mother,  as  they  walked  out  towards 
i  In-  great  horse-block  by  the  mail-side,  ••  thee  must  keep 
house  to-day.  Friend  Robert  has  just  sent  thy  father  word 
that  the  redcoats  have  not  crossed  the  Brandywine  since 
Third  Day  last,  and  thy  father  aud  I  will  ride  to  Chester 
to-day,  that  there  may  be  other  than  corn-cakes  and  bacon 
for  the  friends  who  come  to  us  after  monthly  meeting. 
Mind  thee  keeps  near  the  house  aud  finishes  thy  sampler." 

••  Yes,  mother,"  said  Betty  ;  "  but  will  thee  not  come  home 
early  ?  I  shall  miss  thee  sadly.'' 

Just  then  Ezra  appeared,  wearing  his  collarless  Quaker 
coat,  and  leading  a  horse  saddled  with  a  great  pillion,  into 
which  Ann  laboriously  climbed  after  her  husband,  aud  with 
a  tiual  warning  aud  "farewell"  to  Betty,  clasped  him 


tightly  around  the  waist  lest  she  should  be  jolted  oil  a< 
they  jogged  down  the  rough  and  winding  lane  into  the 
broad  Chester  highway. 

Friend  Auu  had  many  reasons  for  fearing  to  leave  Betty 
alone  for  a  whole  day,  and  she  looked  back  anxiously  at 
her  waving  "farewell"  with  her  little  bonnet. 

It  was  a  troublous  time. 

The  Revolution  was  at  its  height,  and  the  British,  who 
had  a  short  time  before  disembarked  their  army  near  Elk- 
tun.  Maryland,  were  now  encamped  near  White  Clay  Creek, 
while  Washington  occupied  the  country  bordering  on  the 
Brandywine.  His  force,  however,  was  small  compared  to 
the  extent  of  the  country  to  be  guarded,  aud  bands  of  t  In- 
British  sometimes  crossed  the  Braudywiue  aud  foraged  in 
the  fertile  eouuties  of  Delaware  aud  Chester.  As  Betty's 
father,  although  a  Quaker  and  a  non-combatant,  was 
known  to  be  a  patriot,  he  had  to  suffer  the  fortunes  of  war 
with  his  neighbors. 

Thus  it  was  with  many  forebodings  that  Betty's  mother 
watched  the  slight  figure  under  the  spreading  branches  of 
a  great  chestnut,  which  seemed  to  rustle  its  innumerable 
leaves  as  if  to  promise  protection  to  the  little  maid.  How- 
ever, the  sun  shone  brightly,  the  swallows  chirped  as  they 
circled  overhead,  aud  nothing  seemed  farther  off  than  bat- 
tle aud  bloodshed. 

Hetty  skipped  merrily  into  the  house,  and  snatching  up 
some  broken  corn-cake  left  from  the  morning  meal,  ran 
lightly  out  to  the  paddock  where  Daisy  was  kept,  her  own 
horse,  which  she  had  helped  to  raise  from  a  colt. 

"Conic  thee  here.  Daisy,"  .she  said,  as  she  seated  herself 
on  the  top  rail  of  the  mossy  snake  fence.  "  Come  thee 
here,  and  thee  shall  have  some  of  thy  mistress's  corn-cake. 
Ah!  I  thought  thee  would  like  it.'  Xow  go  and  eat  all 
thee  cau  of  this  good  grass,  for  if  the  wicked  redcoats 
come  again,  thee  will  not  have  another  chance,  I  cau  tell 
thee." 

Daisy  whinnied  and  trotted  off,  while  Betty,  feeding  tin- 
few  chickens  (sadly  reduced  in  numbers  by  numerous 


654 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


raids),  returned  to  the  bouse,  and  getting  her  sampler,  sat 
dowu  under  a  walnut-tree  to  sew  ou  the  stint  which  her 
mother  had  given  her. 

All  was  quiet  save  the  chattering  of  the  squirrels  over- 
head and  the  drowsy  hum  of  the  bees,  when  from  around 
the  curve  in  the  road  she  heard  a  shot;  then  another 
nearer,  and  then  a  voice  shouting  commands,  and  the  thud 
of  hoof-beats  farther  dowu  the  valley.  She  jumped  up 
witli  a  startled  cry:  "The  redcoats!  The  redcoats!  Oh, 
what  shall  I  do!"  ' 

Just  then  the  foremost  of  a  scattered  band  of  soldiers, 
their  buft'autl  blue  uniforms  and  ill-assorted  arms  showing 
them  to  be  Americans,  appeared  in  full  flight  around  the 
curve  in  the  road,  and  springing  over  the  fence,  dashed 
across  the  pasture  straight  for  the  meeting-house.  Through 
the  broad  gateway  they  poured,  and  forcing  open  the  door 
of  the  meeting-house,  rushed  within  and  began  to  barri- 
cade the  windows. 

Their  leader  paused  while  his  men  passed  in,  and  seeing 
Betty,  came  quickly  towards  her. 

"What  do  you  here,  child  f"  he  said,  hurriedly.  "Go 
quickly,  before  the  British  reach  us,  and  tell  your  father 
that,  Quaker  or  no  Quaker,  he  shall  ride  to  Washington,  ou 
the  Brandywine,  and  tell  him  that  we,  but  one  hundred 
men,  an-  besieged  by  three  hundred  British  cavalry  in  Clii- 
chester  meeting-house,  with  but  little  powder  left.  Tell 
him  to  make  all  haste  to  us." 

Turning,  ho  hastened  into  the  meeting-house,  now  con- 
verted into  a  tort,  and  as  the  doors  closed  behind  him 
Betty  saw  a  black  muzzle  protruding  from  every  win- 
dow. 

With  trembling  fingers  the  little  maid  picked  up  her 
sampler,  and  as  the  thud  of  horses'  hoofs  grew  louder  and 
louder,  she  ran  fearfully  into  the  house,  locked  and  bolted 
the  massive  door,  and  then  flying  up  the  broad  stairs,  she 
seated  herself  in  a  little  window  overlooking  the  meeting- 
house yard.  She  had  gone  into  the  house  none  too  soon. 
Up  the  road,  with  their  red  coats  gleaming  and  their  har- 
ness jangling,  was  sweeping  a  detachment  of  British  cav- 
alry, never  stopping  until  they  reached  the  meeting-house 
— and  then  it  was  too  late. 

A  sheet  of  flame  shot  out  from  the  wall  before  them,  and 
half  a  dozen  troopers  fell  lifeless  to  the  ground,  and  half  a 
dozen  riderless  horses  galloped  wildly  dowu  the  road.  The 
leader  shouted  a  sharp  command,  and  the  whole  troop  re- 
treated in  confusion. 

Betty  drew  back  shuddering,  and  when  she  brought  her- 
self to  look  again  the  troopers  had  dismounted,  had  sur- 
rounded the  meeting-house,  and  were  pouring  volley  after 
volley  at  its  doors  and  windows.  Then  for  the  first  time 
Betty  thought  of  the  officer's  message,  and  remembered  that 
the  safety  of  the  Americans  depended  upon  her  alone,  for 
her  father  was  away,  no  neighbor  within  reach,  and  with- 
out powder  she  knew  they  could  not  resist  long. 

Could  she  save  them  ?  All  her  stern  Quaker  blood  rose 
at  the  thought,  and  stealing  softly  to  the  paddock  behind 
the  barn,  she  saddled  Daisy  and  led  her  through  the  bars 
into  the  wood  road,  which  opened  into  the  highway  just 
around  the  bend.  Could  she  but  pass  the  pickets  without 
discovery  there  would  be  little  danger  of  pursuit ;  then 
there  would  be  only  the  long  ride  of  eight  miles  ahead  of 
her. 

Just  before  the  narrow  wood  road  joined  the  broader 
highway  Betty  mounted  Daisy  by  means  of  a  convenient 
stump,  and  starting  oft'  at  a  gallop,  had  just  turned  the 
corner  when  a  voice  shouted  "  Halt !"  and  a  shot  whistled 
past  her  head.  Betty  screamed  with  terror,  and  bending 
over,  brought  down  her  riding-whip  with  all  her  strength 
upon  Daisy,  then,  turning  for  a  moment,  saw  three  troopers 
hurriedly  mounting. 

Her  heart  sank  within  her,  but,  beginning  to  feel  the  ex- 
citement of  the  chase,  she  leaned  over  and  patting  Daisy 
on  the  neck, encouraged  her  to  do  her  best.  Onward  they 
sped.  Betty,  her  curly  hair  streaming  in  the  wind,  the 
color  now  mounting  to,  now  retreating  from  her  cheeks,  led 
by  five  hundred  yards. 

But  Daisy  had  not  been  used  for  weeks,  aud  already  felt 
the  unusual  strain.  Now  they  thundered  over  Naaman's 


Creek,  now  over  Concord,  with  the  nearest  pursuer- only 
four  hundred  yards  behind  ;  and  now  they  raced  beside  the 
clear  waters  of  Beaver  Brook,  and  as  Betty  dashed  through 
its  shallow  ford,  the  thud  of  horse's  hoofs  seemed  just  over 
her  shoulder. 

Betty,  at  first  sure  of  success,  now  knew  that  unless  in 
some  way  she  could  throw  her  pursuers  off  her  track  she 
was  surely  lost.  Just  then  she  saw  ahead  of  her  a  fork  in 
the  road,  the  lower  branch  leading  to  the  Brandywine,  the 
upper  to  the  Birmingham  Meeting-house.  Could  she  but 
get  the  troopers  ou  the  upper  road  while  she  took  the 
lower,  she  would  be  safe;  and,  as  if  in  answer  to  her  wish, 
there  flashed  across  her  mind  the  remembrance  of  the  old 
cross-road  which,  long  disused,  and  with  its  entrance  hid- 
den by  drooping  boughs,  led  from  a  point  in  the  upper  road 
just  out  of  sight  of  the  fork  down  across  the  lower,  and 
through  the  valley  of  the  Braudywiue.  Could  she  gain 
this  road  unseen  she  still  might  reach  Washington. 

Urging  Daisy  forward,  she  broke  just  in  time  through 
the  dense  growth  which  hid  the  entrance,  and  .sat  trem- 
bling, hidden  behind  a  dense  growth  of  tangled  vines,  while 
she  heard  the  troopers  thunder  by.  Then,  riding  through 
the  rustling  woods,  she  camo  at  last  into  the  open,  and 
saw  spread  out  beneath  her  the  beautiful  valley  of  the 
Brandywine,  dotted  with  the  white  tents  of  the  Continental 
army. 

Starting  oft' at  a  gallop,  she  dashed  around  a  bend  in  the 
road  into  the  midst  of  a  group  of  officers  riding  slowly  up 
from  the  valley. 

"  Stop,  little  maiden,  before  you  run  us  down,"  said  one, 
who  seemed  to  be  in  command.  "Where  are  you  going  in 
such  hot  haste  ?" 

"Oil,  sir,"  said  Betty,  reining  in  Daisy,  "  can  thee  tell 
me  where  I  can  find  General  Washington  ?" 

"Yes,  little  Quakeress,"  said  the  officer  who  had  first 
spoken  to  her;  "I  am  he.  What  do  you  wish?" 

Betty,  too  exhausted  to  be  surprised,  poured  forth  her 
story  in  a  few  broken  sentences,  and  (hearing  as  if  in  a 
dream  the  hasty  commands  for  the  rescue  of  the  soldiers  in 
Chichester  Meeting-house)  fell  forward  in  her  saddle,  and, 
for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  fainted,  worn  out  by  her  noble 
ride. 

A  few  days  later,  when  recovering  from  the  shock  of  her 
long  and  eventful  ride,  Betty,  awaking  from  a  deep  sleep, 
found  her  mother  kneeling  beside  her  little  bed,  while  her 
father  talked  with  General  Washington  himself  beside  the 
fireplace ;  and  it  was  the  proudest  and  happiest  moment  of 
her  life  when  Washington,  coming  forward  and  taking  her 
by  the  hand,  said,  "  You.  are  the  bravest  little  maid  in 
America,  aud  an  honor  to  your  country." 

Still  the  peaceful  meeting-house  and  the  gambrel-roofed 
home  stand  unchanged,  save  that  their  time-beaten  timbers 
and  crumbling  bricks  have  taken  ou  a  more  sombre  tinge, 
and  under  the  broad  walnut-tree  another  little  Betty  sits 
and  sews. 

If  you  ask  it,  she  will  take  down  the  great  key  from  its 
nail,  and  swinging  back  the  new  doors  of  the  meeting- 
house, will  show  you  the  old  worm-eaten  ones  inside,  which, 
pierced  through  aud  through  with  bullet-holes,  once  served 
as  a  rampart  against  the  enemy.  And  she  will  tell  you,  in 
the  quaint  Friend's  language,  ho'w  her  great-great-grand- 
mother  carried,  over  a  hundred  years  ago,  the  news  of  the 
danger  of  her  countrymen  to  Washington,  on  the  Brandy- 
wine,  aud  at  the  risk  of  her  own  life  saved  theirs. 


KING   ARTHTJK  AND    HIS   KNIGHTS. 

IV.—  -THE   FINAL  TRIAL. 

"  rilEX  Knights,  as  before,  were  put  by  the  stone  to  guard 

-L   it  until  the  new  trial,"  continued  the  Story-tHh-r. 

"  The  Archbishop  was  not  going,  through  lack  of  care,  to 

have  it  said  that   anything  had  been  done  to  the  stone 

meanwhile  to  make  it  harder  for  the  contestants  to  pull 

forth  the  sword,  or  easier  for  Arthur  to  perform  that  feat." 

"  I'll  bet  those   Knights  practised  on  it,  though,"  said 

Jack.      "  I  would  have.'' 


655 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


THEY    ALL    KNELT    BEFORE    HIM,  AND    HE    WAS   CROWNED. 


"It  wouldn't  have  doue  any  good,  I  imagine,"  said  his 
father.  "  There  was  something  mysterious  about  it  all,  and 
whatever  that  was  it  worked  in  favor  of  Arthur  and  against 
all  the  others." 

"  I  don't  believe  all  ten  of  'em  together  could  have  pulled 
it  out,"  Mollie  put  in.  "  It  was  one  of  those  trick  swords, 
like  men  swallow  at  circuses,  I  guess,  and  I'm  certain  that 
Mr.  Merlin  put  it  there,  and  showed  Arthur  how  the  trick 
worked.  It  had  a  spring  in  it,  which  he  could  touch  with 
his  thumb  to  make  it  come  out.  maybe." 

"  Maybe  so,"  said  her  father,  "  although  I  doubt  it.  There 
were  lots  of  queer  tilings  happening  in  those  days  that  we 
of  to-day  would  hardly  believe  if  we  saw  them  with  onrowu 
eyes — things  that  sound  in  the  telling  of  them  quite  like 
fairy  stories." 

"Like  Merlin  being  able  to  toll  what  was  goiug  to  hap- 
pen next  week?"  suggested  Jack. 

"Exactly,"  said  the  Story-teller.  "If  anybody  claimed 
to  be  able  to  do  that  now,  we'd  laugh  at  him." 

"  He'd  be  a  great  man  for  a  newspaper,"  said  Jack.  "  If 
a  newspaper  had  a  man  like  that  on  it,  it  could  tell  the  peo- 
ple in  advance  that  such  and  such  an  accident  was  going 
to  happen  at  such  and  such  a  time  on  such  and  such  a  rail- 
road, aud  then  the  people  wouldn't  go  on  that  road  at  that 
time,  and  their  lives  would  be  saved." 

••  That's  so,"  said  Mollie.  "And  if  the  accident  was  go- 
ing to  happen  because  a  switchman  was  asleep,  somebody 
could  be  sent  ahead  to  wake  him  up,  so  that  the  accident 
wouldn't  happen  at  all." 

"There  is  no  doubt  about  it,"  said  the  Story-teller.  "A 
man  like  Merlin  would  be  very  useful  in  these  days,  but  his 
Kind  is  very  much  like  the  leviathans  and  mastodons  that 
lived  before  the  flood.  The  race  has  died  out,  and  t  rue 
prophets  are  as  scarce  now  as  huckleberries  in  December. 
But  to  come  back  to  the  story,  whether  there  was  a  spring 
in  the  sword  or  not,  Merlin  was  undoubtedly  responsible 
for  it,  and  whatever  he  did,  he  did  it  in  Arthur's  behalf,  for 
when  Candlemas  day  eame  about  again  the  same  thing 
happened  that  had  happened  before.  The  sword  would 
uot  budge  for  any  one  but  Arthur,  and  a  great  many  people 
began  to  be  convinced  that  he  was  the  rightful  King. 
Tli. -re  were  en. mgh  dissatisfied  persons,  however,  to  make 
one  more  trial  necessary,  aud  the  Archbishop,  yielding  to 
these,  set  one  more  date,  that  of  Easter,  for  the  final  cou- 
test." 


••  He  had  to  earn  it,  didn't  he,"  said  Mollie. 
"  You  bet  he  did,"  said  Jack.  "  It  must 
have  been  like  our  medals  at  school.. 
You've  got  to  win  it  six  times  in  succession, 
once  every  mouth,  before  it's  yours  for 
keeps." 

"  But  you  kuow  about  that  rule  before 
you  begin,"  said  Mollie.  "  It's  fair  enough 
in  school,  but  it  seems  tome  Arthur  won 
it  at  the  start,  aud  ought  to  have  had  it." 
'•  He  certainly  did  win  it  at  the  start,  un- 
der the  terms  of  the  contest,"  said  her  fa- 
ther. "Still  it  was  just  as  well,  under 
the  circumstances,  tha-t  there  should  be  no 
dissatisfactiou  among  those  who  lost,  and 
as  it  wasn't  at  all  hard  for  Arthur  to  pull 
the  sword  out,  he  couldn't  complain.  The 
others  had  to  work  a  great  deal  harder 
than  he  did,  and,  in  the  end,  got  nothing 
for  their  pains." 

"  I  guess  the  Archbishop  kind  of  liked 
to  see  all  those  people  pulling  and  haul- 
ing at  it,"  suggested  Jack,  with  a  grin. 
"  It  must  have  been  something  like  a  circns- 
for  him,  anyhow,  with  all  those  knights  in 
their  line  spangles,  and  their  horses  with, 
splendid  harness,  and  all  that." 

"  Very  likely,"  said  the  Story  -  teller. 
"  That  view  of  it  never  occurred  to  me  be- 
fore. It  has  always  been  a  matter  of  won- 
der to  me  that  the  Archbishop  made  poor 
Arthur  go  through  the  ordeal  so  many 
times,  but  now  I  begin  to  understand 
it.  He  wanted  to  bo  entertained  as  much  as  anybody 
else,  and  very  possibly  he  ordered  so  many  repetitions- 
of  the  performances  to  that  end,  knowing,  of  course,  that 
by  so  doing  he  could  not  injure  Arthur's  chances.  Arthur 
had  to  be  very  careful  of  himself,  however,  between  times. 
The  other  Kuights  were  too  anxious  for  the  prize  to  stop  at 
playing  tricks  on  him,  aud  Sir  Ector  saw  to  it  that  wher- 
ever he  went  he  had  a  stroug  guard  about  him  to  keep  him 
from  harm.  These  guards,  made  up  of  the  most  faithful 
men  in  his  father's  service,  kept  watch  over  him  night  and 
day  until  Easter,  when  the  final  trial  came  off  with  no 
change  in  the  result.  Arthur  pulled  the  sword  lightly  out 
of  the  stone,  but  despite  their  struggles  the  others  could  do 
nothing  with  it.  Then  the  people  themselves  were  satis- 
fied. The  Knights  may  not  have  liked  it  any  better  than 
before,  but  the  people  did,  and  they  cheered  him  to  tbe- 
echo,  and  said  that  the  question  was  now  settled  for  once 
and  for  all,  and  offered  to  slay  any  man  who  now  dared  to 
say  that  Arthur  was  uot  entitled  to  the  throne.  They  all- 
knelt  before  him,  and  he  was  knighted  by  one  of  the  brav- 
est men  of  the  day,  and  shortly  after  he  was  crowned.  It 
\vas  a  long  trial  for  him,  but  he  was  patient  and  worthy, 
and  withstood  every  test,  and  in  the  end  he  got  his  re- 
ward." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  of  it,"  said  Jack.  '•  The  way  they  made 
him  work  for  it  seems  to  me  to  have  entitled  him  to  it." 

"Papa,"  said  Mollie,  after  a  little  thought  on  the  matter^ 
"was  this  King  Arthur  any  relation  to  the  man  Jack-the- 
Giant-Killer  was  always  sending  giant's  heads  to." 

"  He  was  the  very  same  man,"  replied  her  father.  "  Why?'' 
"I  was  only  thinking, "said  Mollie,  "that  if  it  was  the- 
same  man,  Jack  couldn't  have  tried  to  pull  that  sword  out, 
because  I'm  pretty  certain  he  could  have  done  it." 

" Perhaps,"  said  her  father,  "but  that  could  only  have 
left  the  question  as  to  the  rightful  King  unsettled." 

"I  don't  think  so,"  cried  Jack.  "Because  then  they'd 
have  had  to  have  a  match  between  Arthur  and  Jack.  That 
would  have  settled  it." 

"  Aud  who  do  you  think  would  have  won  in  that  event?" 
asked  the  Story-teller. 

"  Well,"  said  Mollie,  dubiously,  "  of  course,  I  don't  know, 
but  I'd  have  stood  for  Jack." 

"I'm  with  you,  then,"  said  the  modern  Jack.  "A  boy 
who  could  handle  giants  the  way  he  did  wouldn't  have  had 
much  trouble  with  a  fellow  like  Arthur." 


656 


I 

L 


iINTERSCHOKASTIC 


THE  RIVALRY  BETWEEN  WORCESTER  AND  PHILLIPS 
Andover  academies,  which  has  existed  ever  since  the  two 
big  schools  first  met  on  track  aiid  field  in  the  New  Eug- 
land  Interscholastics,  was  made  even  greater  by  the  dual 
games  held  at  Worcester  on  the  8th.  Andover  had  felt 
confident  of  winning,  but  a  combination  of  hard  luck  and 
a  poor  and  unfamiliar  track  tended  to  cause  her  defeat. 
As  at  Hartford, for  the  Connecticut  H.-S.A.A.  games  on  the 
same  day,  there  was  a  bad  wind  blowing  up  the  track  wliich 
interfered  with  good  time  for  the  sprints,  the  100  being 
done  to  the  exceedingly  slow  time  of  Hi  sees.  The  score 
of  62  to  50,  however,  does  not  by  any  means  show  how 
close  the  contest  was,  for  first  one  side  was  ahead  and  then 
the  other;  so  that  it  was  not  until  the  last  event  of 
the  day  had  been  decided  that  the  Worcester  contingent 
felt  certain  of  their  victory.  To-day  the  Andover  men  are 
doubtless  somewhat  consoled  by  the  way  their  athletes 
turned  the  tables  on  their  Worcester  rivals  at  the  Inter- 
scholastics  on  the  15th,  and  the  regrets  for  defeat  must 
be  considerably  lessened  by  the  conviction  that  should 
the  Worcester  contest  be  held  again,  the  result  would  cer- 
tainly be  different.  Andover  made  25  points  at  Cambridge, 
while  Worcester  Academy  scored  but  9|. 

WHERE  ANDOVER  SUFFERED  MOST  at  Worcester  was  in 
the  bicycle  race  and  in  the  100-yard  dash.  Manning  was 
fully  ten  yards  ahead  of  the  field  in  the  former  event,  and 
it  looked  as  if  the  dark  blue  were  here  sure  of  six  points  at 
least,  for  Palmer  was  coming  along  rapidly  behind  him, 
when  the  leader  lost  control  of  his  wheel  and  fell.  Palmer 
rushed  up  and  tumbled  almost  at  the  same  spot,  leaving 
Forsyth  the  only  Audover  man  in  the  race.  The  latter 
forged  ahead,  and  by  a  powerful  spurt  passed  Campbell  of 
Worcester,  who  was  leading.  He  thought  he  had  won  as 
he  shot,  past  the  winning  post,  but  he  had  gone  only  seven 
laps,  and  as  he  slowed  up  the  three  Worcester  riders  went 
by  him  to  take  all  the  points  at  the  finish.  In  the  100  the 
judges  made  a  bad  decision.  Every  one  on  the  field — ex- 
cepting those  whose  province  it  was  to  do  so — saw  Seun  of 
Audover  win  the  race  by  about  a  foot.  Sargent  was  an- 


Barker,  W.A.         Gaskell,  P  A.        Munn,  P.A. 

THE  220-YARD  RUN,  \VORCE3TER-ANDO  VER  GAMES. 

nounced  the  victor,  however,  and  for  some  odd  reason  Au- 
dover made  no  protest.  Perhaps  they  were  too  confident  of 
victory.  But  even  if  Seuu  had  been  awarded  the  first 
place  (all  the  other  events  resulting  as  they  did),  the  score 
would  still  have  been  in  Worcester's  favor — 59  to  53,  so  the 


mistake  of  the  judges  was  of  little  consequence,  except  to 
Seun  as  an  individual. 

HOLT  OF  ANDOVER  DID  THE  BEST  WORK  for  the  visiting 
team.  He  captured  the  high  hurdles  in  18j!  sees.,  put  the 
16-lb.  shot  33  ft.  6  in.,  and  threw  the  12-lb.  hammer  104  ft. 


Holt,  P.A.  Hlne,  P.A.  Cliase,  W.A. 

120- YARD  HURDLE  RACE,  ANDOVER-WORCESTER  GAMES 

6  in.  In ,  the  weight  events  he  did  not  equal  his  own» 
best  records.  Laing  ran  a  good  race  in  the  half-mile  and 
the  mile,  leading  all  the  way  in  both  events,  and  in  the 
latter  lie  was  followed  home  by  two  of  his  schoolmates. 
It  is  noteworthy  that  in  almost  all  sports  where  Andover 
men  enter  they  are  particularly  strong  in  the  long-distance 
runs.  The  field  events  were  the  most  exciting  for  the  spec- 
tators, because  the  score  was  such  that  all  depended  on  the 
result  of  these.  Here  the  Audover  men  excelled,  but  on 
the  track,  as  will  readily  be  seen  from  the  table  of  results 
printed  in  this  Department  last  week,  the  Worcester  ath- 
letes were  superior.  On  the  whole,  the  meeting  between 
the  two  teams  was  most  successful,  and  Worcester  Academy 
deserves  great  praise  for  her  victory.  She  won  it  by  hard 
work,  and  deserved  every  point  scored.  At  the  present 
moment  the  Worcester  schools  may  justly  claim  first  place- 
in  the  ranks  of  track  athletic  sports;  for  after  the  High- 
School's  performance  on  Holmes  Field,  on  the  15th,  it  is 
plain  that  few  scholastic  associations  could  hope  to  worst 
them. 

ON  THE  FOLLOWING  WEDNESDAY  Andover  did  better. 
The  nine  met  the  Lawrenceville  baseball  team  on  their  own 
grounds  and  it  was  theirs.  Everybody  was  surprised;  even 
Audover.  Not  so  much  at  the  victory,  perhaps,  for  P.A.  men 
are  always  sanguine, but  uo  one  anticipated  a  whitewash. 
Audover  put  up  the  best  game  of  the  year,  and  I  have  not 
seen  Lawrenceville  play  worse.  Men  who  had  scarcely  made 
any  errors  during  the  entire  season  muffed  and  fumbled 
like  a  lot  of  novices;  and  in  betweeutimes  the  Andover  men 
pounded  the  ball,  and  the  crowd  helped  things  along  gen- 
erally by  plenty  of  shouting.  Perhaps  the  crowd  and  the 
unfamiliar  field  had  something  to  do  with  Lawreuceville's 
defeat,  but  it  is  hard  to  understand  why  the  Jersey  play- 
ers, who  have  been  batting  well  all  the  spring,  could  not 
find  the  ball  when  they  had  men  on  second  and  third. 
Possibly  Sedgwick  can  explain  this.  Sedgwick  was  a  host 
in  himself,  and  he  received  such  support  as  has  not  been 


657 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


NEW   ENGLAND   I.S.A.A.  GAMES,  HOLMES  FIELD,  CAMBRIDGE,  JUNE  15,  1S95. 


Event. 

.VE  1  ,>.A   A. 

Made  by 

Winner  June  15,  IS95. 

Performance. 

Points  m«de  by  Schools. 

100-yard  dash  
•-'•^"-\  ;u'd  run  

14U-v;U'd  nil]    

ID  1-5  sec. 

•!•!  -2-5     " 
60  3-5    " 
•_'  in.    6           " 
4  "   34  2-5    " 
T  "   36           " 
17  2-5    " 
2T           " 
2  "   41  3-5    " 

5  ft.    7  3-4    in. 

21  "     6           " 
10  "     63-4     " 
125  " 
39  "     3            " 

F.  H.  Bigelow,  W.H.-S.,  1394 
F.  H.  Bigelow,  W.H.-S.,  1894 
T.  E.  Burke,  E.H.-S.,  1S94 
s.  Wesson,  W.A.,  1S94 
W.  T.  Lain.j,  P.A.,1S94 
P.  J.  McLaujjhlin,  W.H.-S..  '93 
W.  W.  Ilovt,  R.L.S.,  1S93 
A.  II.  Hiiic,  P.  A.,  1S94 
A.  A.  Densmore,  Hopkinson,  '93 

C.  J.  Paine,  Hopkinson,  1S93 

C.  Brewer,  Hopkinson,  1890 
W.  W.  Hoyt,  R.L.8.,  1894 
R.  F.  Johnson,  B.H.-S.,  iv.n 
M.  O'Brien,  E.H.-S.,  1S94 

J.  T.  Roche,  W.H.-S. 
J.  T.  Roche.  W.H.-S. 
R.  S.  Hull,  W.H.-S. 
A.  Albertsim,  W.H.-S. 
D.  T.  Sullivan,  W.H.-S. 
C.  V.  Moore,  N.U.-S. 
A.  H.  Hine,  P.  A. 
A.  H.  Hine,  P.A. 
H.  Freyberg,  W.H.-S. 
F.  Holt,  K.L.S.        | 
R.  Ferguson,  E.H.-S.  f 
E.  L.  Mills,  S.II.-S. 
B.  Johnson,  W.  A. 
M.  Sargent.  Hopkinson 
E.  Holt,  P.A. 

10  3-S  sec. 
23  2-5    " 
533-5    " 
2m.    5          " 
4  "   42  4-5    " 
1  "    IS  3-5 
18  1-5    " 
2T4-5    " 
2  "   40  3-5    " 

5ft.    71-2  in. 
20  "      3           " 

in  "    T 

119  "      4 

•M  "   11  1-2  " 

Worcester  H.-S  33 

English  H.-S  121-2 

Worcester  Academy     9  2-5 
HopUinson  6 

Newton  H.-S  51-5 

l.'ii-vard  hurdle  
•.'•-"'-yard  hurdle  

Somerville  H.-S  5 
Noble's  4  1-5 

Roxbnry  Latin  31-2 
Cambridge  H.  and  L.     3 
Lynn  II  -S    21-5 

Running  high  jump  .  . 

Running  broad  jump. 
Pole  vault 

C'helaeaH.-S  2 
L'hauncey  Hall  1 
Total  ."112 

Throwing  12-11).  ham'r 
Puttins;  16-lh.  shot  .. 

Firsts  count  5.        Seconds  2.        Thirds  1. 


given  by  the  Audover  players  to  any  pitcher  this  season. 
He  struck  out  nine  of  his  opponents  and  gave  only  two 
bases  on  balls,  whereas  he  was  hit  safely  only  six  times. 
Drew,  who  caught  him, played  an  errorless  game;  iu  fact, 
every  mau  on  the  team  did,  with  the  exception  of  Harker, 
who  made  in  the  first  inning  the 
— I  only  misplay  for  the  side. 


THE  HARD  HITTING  OP  THE 
home  team  would  have  won  the 
game  even  if  Lawrenceville  had 
shown  better  field-work.  P.A. 
made  twelve  hits,  including  a 
A  t  two-bagger,  two  three-base  hits, 

and  a  home  run.  Greeiiway  led 
with  two  singles  and  a  three- 
bagger,  while  Barton  made  a 
two-bagger  and  a,  home  run.  As 
for  the  error-making,  Lawrence- 
ville took  the  lead  in  that  in  the 
fourth  inning.  Sedgwick  got  his 
base  on  balls,  and  was  thrown  out 
at  second;  Greeuway  took  tirst 
on  an  error  and  second  on  an  er- 
ror; Elliott  got  to  first  on  balls  ; 
Dayton  followed  him  on  an  er- 
ror, which  let  Greenway  home ; 
Waddell  went  to  first  after  being 
struck  by  a  ball,  and  after  Davis 
had  struck  out  both  Dayton  and 
Elliott  scored  on  an  error.  For- 
rmiately  for  Lawrenceville,  the 

A.  H.  HINE.  inning  was  closed  by  Waddell's 

being  thrown  out  at  third. 


THIS  is  TIII-:  Tiinui  CONSECUTIVE  DEFEAT  that  Lawrence- 
ville has  suffered  at  the  hands  of  Audover  in  baseball,  and 
never  before  has  the  victory  of  the  Massachusetts  team 
been  so  decided.  The  only  way  to  account  for  the  Jersey- 
nifii's  weakness  is  that  they  were  affected  by  the  long 
journey,  and  were  probably  "  rattled "  by  the  Anclover 
crowd.  Tliis  LawrenceviLlii  nine  can  do  better.  A  team 
that  can  play  the  University  of  Pennsylvania  6-ff  and 
Princeton  2-5  ought  not  to  succumb  to'Audover  by  11-0. 
The  following  day  Lawrenceville  met  Exeter,  but  only 
seven  innings  were  played,  as  the  visitors  had  to  catch  a. 
train  for  home.  When  play  was  stopped  the  score  stooil 
3-3,  and  there  was  considerable  dissatisfaction  on.  Exeter's 
part  because  the  last  two  innings  could  not  be  finished. 
Lawrenceville  showed  better  form  than  was  exhibited  at 
Audover,  making  only  two  errors ;  but  Exeter  was  pla\  ing 
good  ball  too,  and  it  is  an  open  question  now  as  to  which 
is  the  better  team.  Next  year  more  careful  arrangements 
should  lie  made,  for  the  memory  of  this  season's  game  will 
always  be  unsatisfactory. 

THE  CHAMPIONSHIP  PKNNAVT  OF  THE  NEW  ENGLAND 
I.S.A.A.  remains  at  Worcester.  It  was  carried  down  there 
by  the  High-School  athletes  last  March,  and  they  made 
their  title  to  it  secure  on  Holmes  Field  a  week  ago  Satur- 
day by  rolling  up  a  score  twenty  points  greater  thau  any 


Boston  school  —  greater,  in  fact,  than  the  scores  of  all  the 
Boston  schools  put  together.  Audover  had  the  satisfac- 
tion of  finishing  second,  with  her  old  rival,  the  Worcester 
Academy,  who  defeated  her  the  week  before,  in  fourth 
place.  Tin'  games  were  well  managed,  and,  considering  the 
fact  that  there  were  335  entries,  the  events  were  run  off 
with  commendable  promptness.  Four  records  were  broken, 
and  a  good  many  others  that  are  up  pretty  high  already 
were  closely  approached,  as  the  accompanying  table  will 
show.  The  marks  that  wnt  were  the  half-mile,  the  walk, 
the  bicycle,  and  the  pole  vault.  Albertson,  AV.H.-S.,  has 
held  the  record  for  the  1000-yard  run  for  two  years,  and 
his  practice  at  that  distance  has  made  him  a  capable  run- 
ner for  the  half.  He  kept  well  back  in  the  bunch  when 
the  race  started,  and  waited  until  the  very  last  corner  was 
behind  him  before  he  attempted  to  pull  away  from  hi.s  com- 
panions. Then  he  spurted,  and  passed  the  three  men  ahead 
of  him,  winning  easily  a  full  second  under  record  time. 

THE  BIGGEST  ALTERATION  of  figures,  however,  was  made 
after  Moore  of  Newton  H.-S.  had  won  the  mile  walk.  He 
was  looked  npou  as  a  winner  at  the  start,  but  no  one  an- 
ticipated such  au  excellent  performance  as  7  min.  18£  sec. 
He  is  as  graceful  in  his  work  as  any  man  can  be  in  this 
acrobatic  event,  and  will  surely  be  heard  from  in  years  to 
come  if  the  walk  is  not  abolished  from  the  amateur  and 
collegiate  programmes. 
The  probabilities  are, 
however,  that  in  a  very 
few  years  the  walk, 
like  the  tug-of-war,  will 
be  a  back  number;  but 
Moore  is  a  good  athlete, 
and  he  will  surely  be 
able  to  be  just  as  prom- 
inent in  some  other 
branch  of  sport.  The 
spectators  were  almost 
as  deeply  interested 
in  Rudischhauser  and 
Williams's  contest  for 
last  place,  as  they  were 
in  M 
first. 


A  PLEASING  FEATURE 
of  the  bicycle  races 
was  the  absence  of  acci- 
dents. There  was  not 
a  single  spill,  and  every 
man  rode  for  all  he  was 
worth.  New  men  took 
the  points;  and  that  is 
a  good  thing.  Both 
Freyberg  and  Druett 
broke  the  tape  ahead 

of    record    time     in    the    second    heat,  but    in 
they    ran     four     seconds    behind.      The     final 


A 


E.  G.  HOLT. 


the  finals 
heat,    al- 


though not  the  fastest,  was  the  most  interesting  Sis 
men  started,  and  for  the  first  quarter  Freyberg  held  the 
lead.  Then  he  was  passed  by  Boardman  and  Cunningham, 


638 


HARPEE'S   ROUND   TABLE 


who  set  the  pace  for  a  lap,  after  which  the 
W.H.-S.  rider  pushed  ahead,  and  left  every 
one  belaud.  The  finish  spurt  •was  good,  but 
it  was  evident  that  every  ridrr  was  tired 
from  the  eft'ects  of  the  trial  heats.  It  would 
be  well  next  year  to  follow  the  plan  adopt- 
ed by  the  Inter-collegiate'  Association  of 
having  the  preliminary  heats  on  the  previ- 
<>n>  day. 

XOXK  OF  THE  FIELD  EVENTS  were  particu- 
larly interesting,  except  the  pole  vault,  in 
\\  In  I'll  Johnson  of  Worcester  Academy  broke 
Hoyt's  record  by  a  quarter  of  an  inch.  The 
high  jumpers  only  reached  ~>  ft.  71  in.,  where 
Holt,  E.L.S.,  and  Ferguson,  E.H.-S.,  tied  for 
first  place.  Mills  of  Somerville  High  came 
iu  as  an  unknown  quantity,  and  took  the 
broad  jump  with  a  leap  of '20  ft.  3  in.  Au- 
dover's  strong  men  were  Holt  and  Hiue. 
At  the  dual  games  at  Worcester,  Holt  did 
giant's  work,  but  at  the  Interscholastics  he 
only  took  one  first,  in  the  shot,  defeating 
O'Brien,  whom  many  had  looked  upon  as  a 
sure  winner,  and  a  place  with  the  hammer. 
Hiue's  hurdling  was  most  graceful,  and  both, 
races  were  exciting.  In  the  bigh  finals  the 
racers  kept  well  abreast  for  thirty  yards; 
then  Hine  forged  slowly  ahead,  but  was  o\  er- 
taken  by  Ferguson,  whom  lie  beat  home  by 
a  few  feet  only.  The  low  hurdles  were  even 
more  thrilling.  Fuller  led  at  the  start,  but 
was  caught  by  Hine  at  the  fourth  hurdle. 
Then  it  was  jump  and  jump  for  twenty-live 
or  thirty  yards;  but,  Hine  had  better  form, 
and  came  in  several  feet  ahead.  The  day 
was  most  satisfactory  from  the  point  of  view 
of  sport,  and  every  performance  of  the  New- 
Englanders  made  ine  wish  they  might  meet 
the  New  York  school  athletes  on  an  open 
track  and  a  level  field.  What  a  contest  that 
•would  be!  No  effort  should  be  spared  to 
bring  it  about,  and  the  only  way  to  do  it  is 
to  form  one  large  all-embracing  Interscho- 
lastic  Association. 

ONE  coiiiucsn  INDENT  UUGES  Hartford  as 
the  most  suitable  place  for  the  meeting.  He 
believes  it  would  be  preferable  to  New 
Haven  for  many  reasons,  one  of  whicb  is 
that  the  Yale  field 'track  is  only  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  around,  whereas  the  track  at  the 
Charter  Oak  Park  is  a  mile  in  circumfer- 
ence and  sixty  feet  wide.  'It  is  a  question 
whether,  for  the  purposes  of  an  Interscbo- 
lastic  meet  of  this  kind,  a  mile  track  would 
be  as  good  as  a  lesser  one.  The  time  made 
might  be  faster  if  the  road-bed  were  in  good 
condition,  but  tbe  spectators  would  not  en- 
joy the  races  so  much  as  if  the  runners 
passed  the  grand  stand  a  number  of  times; 
and  the  men  themselves  would  find  greater 
difficulty  in  gauging  their  speed,  most  of 
them  being  accustomed  to  four  or  five  lap 
tracks.  A  better  argument  in  favor  of  Hart- 
ford is  that  three  railroads  centre  there. 

OF  THE   SCHOOL  ATHLETES  who  took  part 

in  the  New  York  A.C.  games  at  Travers  Isl- 
and, several  secured  places.  Baltazzi  won 
first  in  the  high  jump,  clearing  5  ft.  101  in. 
Fisber  went  into  the  100  and  the  220,  but 
was  distanced,  and  Powell  got  a  tumble  in 
the  bicycle  race.  Whether  it  was  his  own 
fault  I  cannot  say ;  but  there  are  very  few 
races  he  has  ridden  in  this  year  where  he 
has  been  able  to  keep  in  bis  saddle  all  the 
•way  around  the  course.  He  retained  his 


seat  in  the  Interscholastics  and  won.  W. 
T.  Laing  came  down  from  Andover,  and  en- 
tered the  mile  with  t'onnett'  and  Ortou.  He 
had  40  yards  handicap,  and  came  in  second, 
with  Ortou  behind  him.  Orton,  however, 
v.  as  pretty  well  fagged  out  from  the  eft'ects 
of  his  half-mile  race  with  Walsh.  F.  W. 
Phillips,  of  Bryant  and  Stratum's,  had  a 
handicap  of  6  inches  iu  the  pole  vault,  and 
by  making  an  actual  leap  of  10  ft.  3  iu.,  se- 
en red  first,  over  Baxter  at  scratch,  who  clear- 
ed 10  ft.  6  iu. 

SOME    CREDITABLE    PERFORMANCES    Were 

made  at  the  field  meeting  of  tbe  Pittsbnrg 
Intel-scholastic  A.A.,  which  was  held  at  tbe 
Pittsburg  Athletic  Club  Park  last  week. 
Only  four  schools  were  represented,  but  the 
crowd  was  enthusiastic  and  the  events  well 
managed.  Graff,  of  Shadyside  Academy, 
did  the  best  all-round  work.  He  wou  the 
100  iii  10f  sec.,  and  the  220  in  24  sec.,  besides 
taking  first  in  the  hop,  step,  and  jump  (an- 
other of  those  acrobatic  events  which  have 


been  handed  down  from  the  Dark  Ages),  and 
third  iu  the  shot.  If  the  Pittsburg  H.-.S. 
athletes  had  been  better  trained  they  would 
have  made  a  more  creditable  showing,  for 
there  is  good  material  there.  As  n 
they  managed  to  score  21  points  out  of  a 
possible  135.  Shadyside  Academy,  the  win- 
ner, got  51,  and  was  followed  by  the  Park 
Institute  with  44.  Allegheny,  the  tail-euder, 
scored  19  points. 


THE  CHAMPIONSHIP  of  the  Southern  Con- 
necticut Baseball  League  went  to  the  Black 
Hall  School  again  this  year.  The  final 
game  was  played  on  June  1st,  against  the 
Norwich  Free  Academy.  The  Black  Hall 
team  suffered  only  one  defeat  out  of  the  six 
games  of  the  series — a  very  creditable  per- 
formance, considering  the  numerical  size 
and  athletic1  strength  of  the  other  schools 
in  the  League.  Their  success  was  due  to 
the  steady  work  of  the  battery,  their  strong 
batting,  and  careful  base-ruuuiug. 

THE  GRADUATE. 


ADVERTISEMENTS. 


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659 


HAEPEE'S   EOUND   TABLE 


Bicycle  route. 
Fair  ticyde  rosd.: 
Dangerous hi/I. 
Hi  for  poor  road, 

—^-Railway  station 

•f-  HoM. , 


o.     ©      © 


BICYCLING 


Copyright,  1895,  by  Harper  &  Brothers. 


This  Department  is  conducted  in  the  interest  of  Bicyclers,  and  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to- 
answer  any  question  on  the  subject.  Our  maps  and  tours  contain  much  valuable  data  kindly 
supplied  from  the  official  nmjis  and  road-books  of  the  Leajiue  of  American  \Vhetlmen.  Recog- 
nizing tho  value  of  the  work  being  done  by  the  L-  A.  W.,  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to  furnish 
subscribers  with  membership  blanks  and  information  so  far  as  possible. 

THE  map  this  week  continues  from  the  point,  Tarry- 
town,  reached  on  map  published  in  No.  810  of  the 
ROUND  TABLE,  to  Ponghkeepsie,  a  ride  of  over  forty  miles, 
which  would  he  another  and  second  stage  on  the  route 
from  New  York  to  Albany.  All  routes  of  this  nature  must, 
of  course,  be  divided  by  wheelmen  reading  this  Department 
into  sections  of  a  length  which  is  most  suitable  for  their  own 
special  purposes.  It  is  perfectly  simple,  for  example,  for  a 
good  rider  to  go  from  New  York  to  Poughkeepsie  in  one 
day.  On  the  other  hand,  for  one  who  is  unaccustomed  to- 
long  distances  the  route  shown  on  this  map,  from  Tarry- 
town  to  Poughkeepsie,  is  a  very  good  ride.  When  the 
series,  therefore,  covering  a  distance  from  New  York  to 
Albany  is  published,  by  putting  the  maps  together  each 
wheelman  may  choose  how  far  he  will  go  each  day. 

Running  out  of  Tarrytowu,  the  rider  takes  the  Albany 
Post  Road  and  passes  the  Andre"  Monument  (1),  which  he 
should  pause  to  examine.  After  leaving  this  monument  he 
will  come  to  St.  Paul's  Methodist  Episcopal  Church.  Here 
he  should  turn  to  the  left  and  go  down  a  long  hill,  thence 
following  the  turnpike,  which  is  unmistakable,  until  he 
reaches  Sing  Sing,  a  distance  of  seven  miles.  If  the  wheel- 
man takes  time  for  it,  he  may  turn  down  to  the  river,  about 
a  mile  before  reaching  Sing  Sing,  and  stop  a  moment  to 
take  a  look  at  the  State-prison.  From  Sing  Sing  the  road 
to  Peekskill  is  direct;  but  it  is  a  difficult  twelve-mile  ride, 
with  hills  all  along  the  way,  especially  just  before  crossing 
to  Croton  Point,  again  on  the  Point,  and  then  all  the  way 
up  to  Peekskill.  The  road  itself  is  sandy,  and  occasionally 
covered  with  loam.  The  riding  is  not  very  good,  and  the 
wheelman  is  wise  if  he  dismounts  frequently.  After  leav- 
ing Croton,  and  when  approaching  Verplank  Point,  he  can 
look  across  the  river  to  Haverstraw,  and  see  Treason  Hill, 
where  the  meeting  between  Arnold  and  Andre"  took  place, 
and  the  terms  of  the  surrender  of  West  Point  were  made. 
From  Peekskill  the  rider  runs  out  about  half  a  mile  to  the 
north,  then  turns  to  the  left  and  follows  the  telegraph- 
poles  to  Garrison's.  Immediately  after  crossing  the  bridges, 
on  going  out  of  Peekskill,  he  will  notice  on  the  left  the 
State  Camp  (4).  The  road  is  sandy,  and  there  are  some  had 
hills  over  these  eight  miles. 

If  the  rider  has  time  to  stop  for  a  look  at  historic  places, 
he  should  turn  to  the  left  after  leaving  the  Peekskill  en- 
campment-grounds  and  run  down  to  Highland  Station, 
from  whence  he  can  see  across  the  river  the  site  of  old  Forts 
Clinton  and  Montgomery  (5  and  6).  Keeping  on  this  road 
and  running  up  to  Garrison's  along  the  shore,  he  will  pass 
Beverly  House,  Arnold's  old  headquarters  (7).  At  Garri- 
son's is  the  old  Phillipse  Manor,  and  directly  across  the 
river  is  the  United  States  Military  Academy  of  West  Point. 
The  best  road  from  this  point  to  Wappinger's  Falls  is  to  fol- 
low the  black  route  on  the  map,  keeping  to  the  right  be- 
yond Garrison's,  and  running  on  through  Fishkill  to  Wap- 
pinger's Falls,  a  distance  of  eighteen  miles. 

It  is  possible,  however,  to  keep  to  the  left  just  beyond 
Garrison's,  and  following  the  fair  bicycle  route,  keep  to  the 
shore  of  the  Hudson.  The  road,  however,  is  much  more 
hilly  through  these  highlands.  By  taking  this  route  the 
wheelman  may  cross  the  ferry  at  Fishkill  village  to  New- 
bnrg.  where  he  may  see  the  Washington  headquarters  (10), 
and  Knox's  headquarters  and  winter  camp  (11)  just  outside 
New  burg.  On  the  road  from  Fishkill-on-the-Hudsou  to- 
Fishkill  itself  he  will  pass  the  State  Hospital  for  the  In- 
sane (12).  The  road  from  Wappiuger's  Falls  into  Pmigh- 

NOTK.—  Map  of  New  York  city  asphalted  streets  in  No.  809.  Map  of 
route  from  New  York  to  Tarrytown  in  No.  810.  New  York  to  Stamford, 
Connecticut,  in  No.  Sll.  New  York  to  Slaten  Island  in  No.  812.  New- 
Jersey  from  Hoboken  to  Pine  Brook  in  No.  813.  Brooklyn  in  No.SU. 
Brooklyn  to  Babylon  in  No.  815.  Brooklyn  to  Nortbport  in  No.  S16. 


660 


HAEPEE'S   EOUXD   TABLE 


keepsie,  a  distance  of  eight  arid  a  quarter 
miles,  is  moderately  good.  The  roads  are 
easy  riding,  and  the  grades  are  not  bad. 
The  rider  should  turn  to  the  right  on  leav- 
ing Wappinger's  Falls,  cross  Wappinger's 
Creek,  and  take  South  Avenue  direct  into 
Pouglikeepsie.  On  tin-  way  lie  passes  at 
the  right  of  the  Gallaudet  Home  for  Deaf- 
Mutes  (13).  and  if  he  cares  to,  after  reach- 
ing Pouglikeepsie,  he  may  struggle  up  the 
Ponghkeepsie  Hills  to  take  a  look  at  Vassnr 
College  (.14).  

A   CITY   BOY'S   CONCLUSION. 
THE  cricket  'neath  the  old  rail  fence 

His  song  forever  toots. 
And  sounds  MS  if  he's  breaking  in 

A  brand-new  pair  of  boots. 


PUDDING 


This  Department  is  conducted  in  the  interest  of  t.Jirls  and  Yonne 
Women,  and  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to  answer  any  question  on 
the  subject  so  far  as  possible.  Correspondents  should  address  Editor. 

AMONG  tbe  accomplishments  which  girls 
may  cultivate  to  advantage  none  sur- 
passes that  of  reading  aloud  to  the  satisfac- 
tion of  others.     It  is  singular  that  more  of 
.us  do  riot  acquire  this  delightful  art.     I  do 
not  mean  that  we  should  become  elocution- 
ists, or  study  to  be  proficient  in  dramatic 
•effects;  I  simply  advise  girls  who  wish  to 
.give  pleasure  to  their  families  and  friends 
practise  the  art  of  reading  intelligently, 
u   a  clear  and  distinct  voice,  pronouncing 
heir  words  plainly,  giving  each  sentence  its 
ull  meaning,  and  being  careful  not  to  drop 
he  voice  too  suddenly  at  the  end  of  a  para- 
graph.    It  is  so  natural  to  let  the  voice  fall 
;oo  much  and  too  far  at  the  close  of  a  para- 
graph,that  those  who  wish  to  be  heard  make 
point  of  learning  how  to  use  the  rising  in- 
[ection — not  to  the  degree   which  implies 
nterrogatiou,  but,  so  to  speak,  leaving  off 
with  tones  on  the  level,  so  that  the  voice 
arries  well  across  the  room. 

DURING  VACATION*  you  will  have  oppor- 
iunities  to  exercise  this  gift  if  j-ou  possess 
t.     Half  a  ddzen  girls  may  enjoy  the  same 
tory  if  one  reads  aloud  while  the  rest  work. 
?he  dear  auntie  whose  sight  is  failing,  and 
who  is  bidden  by  the  doctor  to  rest  her  eyes, 
•ill  be  very  much  obliged  to  you  if  you  will 
ead  to  her  an  hour  or  more  a  day  at  inter- 
vals, as  she  and  you  may  find  convenient. 

I  HAVE  FOUND  in  my  own  experience  that 
When  I  am  reading  with  a  view  to  remem- 
lering  a  poem  or  essay  or  chapter  of  his- 
ory,  it  is  fixed  upon  my  mind  more  readily 
han  otherwise  if  I  read  the  passage  aloud 
;o   myself.     Hearing  as  well  as  seeing  the 
words,  two  senses  aid  in  carrying  the  mes- 
a^e  to  the  brain.  I  like  to  read  poetry  aloud 
vhen  I  am  alone,  thus  doubly  enjoying  its 
music  and  its  IV-eliug. 

•As  KVKP.Y  BRIGHT  young  woman  should 
be  informed  about  current  events,  my  girl 
friends  hardly  need  the  reminder  to  read 
.he  daily  papers.  In  doing  this,  read  ac- 
cording to  system.  You  will  be  able  to  se- 


cure better  results  if  yon  have  a  plan  than 
if  you  scan  the  journal  taken  in  your  home 
in  a  slip-shod,  heedless  way. 

EVERY  NEWSPAPER  has  its  summary  of 
contents,  in  which  the  news  of  that  day  and 
paper  are  condensed  and  presented  in  a  com- 
pact form.  Head  this  first.  Select  from  this 
what  you  most  wish  _to  read — the  foreign 
letters,  the  society  gossip,  the  political  lead- 
ers, the  description  of  a  prominent  person- 
age. Whatever  you  read,  read  with  your 
whole  attention,  and  learn  how  to  skip  a 
great  many  things  which,  while  coming  un- 
der the  head  of  news,  are  riot  important  to 
yon.  Reports  of  crime,  for  example,  must 
be  published,  but  yon  and  I  can  very  well 
omit  reading  them. 

.SOMEBODY  IN  THE  HOUSE,  and  it  may  as 
well  be  you, dear  daughter  Jane  or  Charlotte, 
should  take  upon  herself  to  see  that  the  daily 
papers  are  not  spirited  off  to  line  closet- 
shelves  or  kindle  the  kitchen  fire  before 
they  are  a  week  old.  Father  often  wishes 
to  refer  to  last  Thursday's  Sun  or  Tribune, 
Brother  Tom  wants  another  look  at  yester- 
day's Hernld  or  the  Weekly  Record  or  Eegin- 
ln',  whatever  the  favorite  paper  may  be. 
Nothing  is  more  annoying  than  to  search 
the  house  over — mother's  room,  the  library, 
the  back  parlor,  the  halls — and  discover  no 
trace  of  the  longed-for  sheet,  which  prob- 
ably has  been  dissolved  into  ashes,  fluff,  and 
smoke,  to  save  Bridget  a  little  trouble.  You 
might  charge  yourself  with  seeing  that  no 
paper  is  ever  destroyed  until  it  is  a  whole 
week  old.  Also  when  a  paper  contains  an 
item  or  a  story  which  will  probably  interest 
grandmother  or  Uncle  Roger  in  another 
town,  it  is  very  sweet  in  you  to  slip  a  wrap- 
per around  the  paper,  first  marking  the  col- 
umn in  question,  and  mail  it  to  the  person 
to  whom  it  will  give  pleasure.  Do  not  for- 
get the  marking.  Nobody  likes  to  spend  a 
morning  hunting  for  the  reason  why  a  pa- 
per has  been  sent  to  him. 


&. 


DON'T  WOURY  YOURSELF 

and  don't  worry  the  baby:  avoid  both  unpleasant  con- 
ditions by  giving  the  child  pure,  digestible  food. 
Don't  use  t-olid  preparations.  Infant  Health  is  a 
valuable  pamphlet  for  mothers.  Send  your  address  to 
the  New  York  Condensed  Milk  Company,N.  Y.  —  [Adv.], 

ADVERTISEMENTS. 


Ipostagc  Stamps, 


100  all  dif.  Venezuela,  Costa  Rica,  etc.,  only 
lUc.;  2110  all  rlif.Hayti,  Hawaii,  etc.  ,only  50c. 
Ag'ta  wanted  at  50  per  ct.com.  List  FREE! 
C.A.Stegiiiaiin,27'22EadsAv.,St.Louis,lI<). 

var.,  all  dif.,  5c.;  12  var.  Heligoland, 
_      _       15c.;  6var.  Italy,  1858tolS62,  5c.;  3  var. 
Hanover,  5c.:  SB  var.  C.  American,  50c.  Agents  wauled. 
F.  W.  MILLER,  904  Olife  St.,  St.  Louis,  Mo. 

all  different,  China,  etc.,  10c.;  5  Saxony,  10c.; 
4"  Spain,  inc.:  C  Tunis,  14r.;    10  U.  S.  Ufv- 
enues,  lOc.  Agts.  wtd.,  50^  com.;  '95  list  free. 
CRITTENDEN  &  BORGMAN  CO.,  Detroit,  Mich. 


061 


100 


a   Living     Picture 

of  health  —  because  she  uses  Pond's  Extract 
at  her  toilet,  and  appreciates  the  fact  that  no 
substitute  can  equal  it. 

Avoid  substitutes;  accept  genuine  only, 
with  bull  wrapper  and  yellow  label. 

POND'S    EXTRACT   CO.,  76  Filth   flve..  New  York. 

Sick  Headache 

.  .  and  .  . 

Constipation 

are  quickly  and  pleas- 
antly cured  by 

Tarrant's 
Effervescent 
Seltzer  Aperient. 

The  most  valuable 
family  remedy  for 

Disordered 
Stomach 

.  .  and  .  . 

Impaired 
Digestion. 

SO  Cents  and  $1.00— All  Druggists. 

FREE — Palmer  Cox's,  The  Brownies'  Discovery — Illustrated. 

TARRANT  <S  Co.,  Chemists,  New  York. 


The  Eight  Numbers  of  the  Franklin 
Square  Song  Collection  contain 

1600 

of  the  Choicest  Old  and  New  Songs 
and  Hymns  in  the  Wide  World. 

Fifty  Cents  per  Number  iu  paper;  Sixty  Cents  in 
substantial  Board  binding;  One  Dollar  in  Cloth. 
The  Eight  Numbers  also  bound  in  two  volumes  at 
$3.00  each.  Address  Harper  &  Brothers,  New  York. 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Prize  Story  Awards. 

The  Bouud  Table  offered  a  First  Prize  of  $50,  a 
Second  of  $25,  and  a  Third  of  J25  for  the  best  original 
stories  written  by  authors  who  had  not  passed  their 
eighteenth  birthday.  .There  was  no  condition  about 
the  kind  of  a  story  required,  but  appearance  of  manu- 
script, spelling,  construction,  character,  and  plot  were 
to  be  considered.  Stories  were  required  to  contain 
not  more  than  two  thousand  nor  fewer  than  one  thou- 
sand words.  There  were  a  few  under  five  hundred 
contestants,  some  of  whom  were  as  young  as  ten,  and 
iu  one  case  seven  years.  Many  stories  were  extremely 
clever,  considering  the  ages  of  their  authors. 

The  First  Prize  is  won  by  a  Knight  who  lives  in 
Delaware.  His  name  is  Henry  S.  Canby,  aged  sixteen. 
A  Knight,  also  from  a  Southern  State  (South  Carolina), 
won  the  first  prize  in  the  Table's  previous  story  con- 
test The  Second  Prize  is  won  by  a  Lady.  She  is 
thirteen,  and  lives  in  Minnesota.  Her  name  is  Nancy 
Howe  Wood,  and  the  title  of  her  story,  which  will  be 
published  in  order,  is  "An  Exciting  Game."  The 
story  standing  third  is  "Joey's  Christmas."  It  reached 
us  bearing  no  name  of  the  writer,  although  it  said  it 
was  intended  for  this  contest.  Owing  to  this  oversight 
by  the  author  we  cannot  award  it  the  Third  Prize. 
We  will,  however,  give  the  author,  when  found,  an 
extra  prize  of  $10.  Will  he  or  she  write  us?  The 
Third  Prize  is  awarded  to  the  story  standing  fourth. 
It  is  "The  Beverly  Ghost,"  by  Jennie  Mae  Blakeslee, 
aged  fifteen,  a  resident  of  New  Jersey.  The  Table 
congratulates  the  winners. 

Stories  by  the  following  authors  are  specially  com- 
mended, the  order  of  that  praise  being  indicated  by 
the  order  in  which  names  are  printed :  Upton  B.  Sin. 
clair,  Jnn.,  Frances  Chittenden,  Constance  F.  Wheeler, 
Edith  den  Bleyker,  Alice  E.  Dyar,  Maude  Newbolt,  A. 

D.  Parsons,  Oliver  Bunce  Ferris,  Agnes  Barton,  Fanny 
Fullertou,  Joseph   B.  Ames,  Helen   H.  Hayes,  Louis 

E.  Thayer,  George  Clarkson  Hirts,  George  W.  Halli- 
well,  Jim.,  Janet  Ashley,  Ray  Bailey  Stevenson,  Edith 
Eckfield,  Guy  Hugh  Leland,  Helen  L.  Biruie,  Virginia 
Louise  De  Caskey. 


An  Old  Civil  War  Veteran. 

Living  here  is  the  oldest  cavalry  horse  of  the 
civil  war.  Ha  belongs  to  Sergeant  B.  F.  Crawford, 
Company  C,  Sixteenth  Pennsylvania  Cavalry,  who 
captured  him  iu  Virginia  .lust  after  his  owner  had 
beeu  shot  from  his  back.  He  was  then  eight  years 
old.  Now  he  is  forty,  as  black  as  coal,  save  for 
some  gray  hairs  iu  mane  and  tail,  and  still  fond  of 
martial  music,  especially  on  Decoration  day,  the 
local  parade  of  which  he  always  forms  a  part. 
Last  year  he  went  to  the  National  Encampment 
of  the  Grand  Army  at  Pittsburg,  but  he  is  too 
feeble  to  go  to  another.  "  Old  Ned  "  is  his  name, 
and  he  is  a  universal  favorite.  His  greatest  war 
service  was  his  three  days  at  Gettysburg,  where  he 
was  in  at  the  beginning  and  finish,  and  didn't  get 
a  scratch.  HARKY  MOORUEAD. 

MOBTH  EAST,  PA. 


Care  and  Food  of  Fresh-water  Turtles. 

Several  members  ask  about  the  care  and  food  of 
turtles— really  fresh-water  tortoises.  They  should 
be  kept  iu  a  tank  or  vessel,  with  some  sort  of  an 
island  upon  which  they  may  crawl  when  tired  of 
swimming.  The  best  food  for  them  is  fresh  ani- 
mal food— flies,  worms,  or  very  tiny  live  fish.  If  a 
live  fly  is  put  on  the  water  so  that  it  will  kick,  the 
tortoise  will  come  up  and  get  it,  as  he  will  not  be 
so  apt  to  do  with  a  dead  one.  A  worm  may  be 
dropped  in  for  him  once  in  a  while ;  but  as  these 
are  sometimes  hard  to  find,  he  may  be  fed  with 
bits  of  meat,  raw  or  Cooked.  As  a  rule,  tortoises 
will  not  eat  vegetables  or  bread,  though  these  will 
not  hurt  them.  They  can  go  for  a  long  time  with- 
out food,  but  it  is  better  to  feed  them  every 
day. 


A  Jaunt  Up  Mount  Macedon. 

One  fine  day  in  December  a  few  girl  friends  and 
I  thought  of  walking  from  Woodend  to  the  top  of 
Mount  Macedon  and  back  aSain.  The  first  part  of 
the  road  leading  to  the  Mount  was  smooth,  and 
the  shade  thrown  by  ttie  eucalyptus-trees  was  very 


pleasant.  As  we  got  further  on  it  became  rather 
hot,  and  we  were  glad  to  rest  and  eat  our  luncheon 
in  a  cool  spot  about  half-way  up  the  Mount.  Lilac 
Walk  is  a  beautiful  spot  at  the  top  of  Mount  Mace- 
don, and  is  so  called  because  wild  lilac  blooms 
there  in  profusion.  The  trees,  which  are  tall,  in- 
terlace and  form  arches,  which  almost  shut  out 
the  sun. 

The  Camel's  Hump  is  the  highest  peak  of  Mount 
Macedon.  It  was  a  very  steep  climb,  but  we  were 
rewarded  for  it.  We  could  see  around  us  miles 
and  miles  of  beautiful  country,  with  here  and  there 
a  tiny  house  among  the  trees.  On  a  fine  day  you 
can  see  Port  Phillip  Bay,  which  is  over  forty  miles 
distant.  On  our  way  back  we  saw  a  beautiful 
place  thickly  covered  with  ferns,  with  a  tiny 
stream  running  through  it.  We  did  not  feel  very 
tired  when  we  got  there,  although  we  had  walked 
fourteen  miles.  I  intend  forwarding  you  next 
time  a  brief  description  of  the  Hanging  Rock  near 
Woodend.  EVELINE  WALLACE,  E.  T.  L. 

TASUA,  MOKKLAND  RD.,  W.  COBUEG. 


What  Shall  Our  Badges  Be? 

The  Founders  decided  the  Order  is  to  have  a  new 
badge,  to  be  made  iu  two  styles.  One  is  to  be  of 
silver,  or  at  least  of  some  material  that  may  be 
secured  at  a  low  price,  say  ten  cents,  and  the  other 
of  gold,  or  gold  and  enamel,  to  cost  as  much  as 
fifty  cents,  perhaps ;  certainly  little  if  any  more. 
A  score  or  more  Founders  suggested  that  designs 
be  submitted.  Very  good.  Now  where  shall  we 
get  the  designs?  Do  members  wish  to  give  us 
some?  If  so.  send  them  in.  Draw  them  in  either 
India  or  wash,  that  we  may  reproduce  them. 

Here  is  the  top  of  what  is  said  to  be  the  original 


King  Arthur's  Table.  It  is  preserved  iu  the  ca- 
thedral at  Winchester,  England.  The  figure  i*  that 
of  Arthur,  and  the  names  are  those  of  the  original 
Knights.  It  was  suggested  that  the  badge  be  a  re- 
production of  this,  but  if  the  entire  table-top  be 
employed  designs  will  be  so  small  they  cannot  be 
read.  Besides,  we  Americans  hardly  want  to  wear 
badges  bearing  a  figure  of  royalty,  do  we?  Why 
not  use  the  rose  in  the  centre— the  rose  is  historic 
—and  vary  the  inscription  around  it? 

In  making  designs,  be  careful  to  consider  the 
time  and  nation.  One  member  sends  us  a  design  in 
which  appears  the  fleur-de-lis,  which  is  French,  not 
English.  The  sword,  ancient  pattern,  the  red  and 
white  rose,  the  cross,  other  than  the  Latin— all 
these  may  be  used.  Of  course  we  will  keep  the 
"K.  L.  O.  R.  T."  If  need  be.  the  words  could  >>e 
spelled  out:  "Knights:  Ladies:  Order:  Round: 
Table."  Let  us  have  your  designs  at  once.  Any 

662 


who  wish  may  submit  them.  The  two  or  three 
best  will  be  published,  if  made  so  we  can  repro- 
duce them.  Possibly  an  artist  can  select  the  best 
features  of  several  and  combine  them.  So  send 
along  your  ideas. 


How  to  Plan  a  Gala  Evening. 

For  July  or  August  there  are  few  entertainments 
more  novel  and  delightful  than  out-of-door  ones. 
Why  not  have  some  in  aid  of  the  School  Fund  ?  Or 
they  might  be  partly  in  aid  of  the  Fund  and  partly 
for  the  benefit  of  a  Chapter.  The  way  to  begin  is 
to  get  together  from  six  to  a  dozen  friends,  and 
then  write  to  us  for  particulars. 

Here  is  briefly  what  we  shall  recommend,  but  be 
sure  to  write,  because  we  can  give  you  more  ex- 
plicit directions  than  we  have  space  for  here.  We 
shall  give  you  titles  of  some  very  funny  farces  and 
pantomimes, similar  to  those  that  college  students 
give  as  burlesques,  and  which  any  company  of  per- 
sons of  any  age  can  learn  and  render  with  very 
little  trouble  and  with  certain  success.  We  shall 
also  tell  you  how  to  build  a  rustic  stage  out  of 
doors,  to  arrange  hemlocks  or  spruces  for  "  scen- 
ery," etc.  A  good  way  is  to  charge  a  fee  of  twenty- 
five  cents,  and  give,  after  the  stage  entertainment 
is  over,  a  plate  of  ice-cream  free.  You  will  have 
plenty  of  fun— and  help  a  good  cause,  and  perhaps 
yourselves.  Write  us,  sure. 


A  Natural  History  Bit. 

There  are  a  great  many  violets  about  here,  and 
the  ones  we  have  the  most  of  are  the  swamp  vio 
lets  and  the  little  ones  that  grow  in  the  fields.  The 
swamp  violets  are  a  very  light  purple  with  darker 
lines  on  the  lower  petal 
There  are  from  two  to 
twenty  violets  on  one 
plant.  They  grow  iu  the 
wen  ids  and  in  wet  places 
The  white  violets  also 
grow  in  the  woods.  They 
are  very  much  smaller 
and  are  entirely  white 
except  the  lower  petal 
which  has  purple  lines 
They  are  very  sweet.  : 
have  never  seen  more 
than  seven  or  eight  vio 
lets  on  one  plant. 

There  are  three  cither 
kinds  that  I  know  of  tha 
grow  in  the  woods 
One  is  the  yellow  violet 
It  grows  in  dry  places 
and  there  is  usually  mure 
than  one  violet  on  a  stem. 
The  leaves  also  grow  on 
the  stem,  instead  of  start- 
ing from  the  roots,  as 
most  others  do.  The 
flower  is  a  bright  yellow, 
with  purple  lines  on  the 
lower  petal.  There  is  the 
crow's-foot  violet,  which 
grows  iu  dry  places  and 
is  a  deep  purple ;  also  a 
little  purple  violet  whose 
name  I  do  not  know.  It 
grows  much  like  the  yel- 
low violet,  only  it  is  much 

smaller,  and  often  grows  on  rocks  where  there  is 
very  little  earth. 

Thf  violet  that  grows  in  the  fields  is  very  small, 
and  is  oftenest  a  deep  purple,  but  sometimes  the 
petals  are  purple  and  white  mottled  together. 

CONNECTICUT.  H.  W.  S. 


A  Bit  of  An  Old  Fort. 

Not  very  far  from  Bluffton  near  Beaufort  is  situ- 
ated the  island  called  Paris  Island.  A  friend  ot 
my  fa  flier's  owns  a  part  of  this,  and  he  says  that  ou: 
it  are  the  remains  of  old  Fort  Charles,  built  by  the- 
Huguenots  in  1562.  Will  some  one  please  write  fa 
me?  I  am  fourteen.  Bluffton  is  in  the  very  south- 
\Yi>t<Tti  part  of  Beaufort  County,  S.  C.  The  steam-) 
er  Alpha  plies  between  Bluffton,  Beaufort,  and  Sa- 
vannah, but  she  is  the  slowest  steamer  in  existence. 

BLUFFTON.  AUGUST  MlTTELL. 


HARPER'S   ROUND  TABLE 


STAMPS  I 

«*»*-'»Jl»CTiJV»mj*.»J.»  :m*P*OK»lOB»JB»J*J«J>m3i-»jimtlM^; 


colli-cturj.  and  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to  aDswer  fluy  question  on 
these  subjects  so  far  as  possible.  Correspondents  should  address  Editor 
Sutmp  Department. 

T1HE  STAMP  EDITOR  wauts  to  make  this 
coltiinu  as  interestiug  and  as  useful  as 
possible  to  all  the  boys  and  girls  \vlio  collect 
stamps.  Is  there  any  subject  on  which  you 
would  like  to  have  information?  Shall  we 
talk  about  the  United  States  stamps?  Or 
about  the  great  rarities  which  are  so  eagerly 
sought  by  the  advanced  collectors  that  they 
art.-  willing  to  pay  from  $100  to  $-2.")OU  each 
for  these  interesting  lit.tle  bits  of  paper? 
Or  about  the  different  stamps  issued  in  the 
Oonl'rdrratr  Siaifs  during  the  great  civil 
war  .'  Or  about  the  different  water-marks, 
perforations,  papers,  etc.,  which  will  make 
two  stamps  which  "look  just  alike"  worth  in 
the  one  case  two  cents  and  in  the  other  s.Mi .' 
Or  about  auctions  of  rare  stamps  ?  Or  any 
other  subject?  Let  us  hear  from  you,  boys 
and  girls.  This  is  your  column,  and  it  shall 
be  made  as  interesting  as  possible.  Do  you 
keep  the  back  numbers, so  that  you  can  refer 
to  them?  If  you  do,  it  will  be  possible  to 
auswerfully  some  ijui'stions  which  are  asked 
frequently  by  simply  referring  to  some  other 
n In-r  in  (In-  current  volume. 

SEVEHAL  COLLBCTOI;.--  ASK  lioxv  to  distin- 
guish the  provisional  stamps  used  in  IVru 
during  the  war  in  1661-b:!  between  Chili 
and  Peru.  Counting  all  the  different  types 
of  each  stamp,  there  are  over  one  hundred 
in  all,  and  their  enumeration  in  the  stand- 
ard stamp  catalogues  covers  three  or  four 
pages.  Collectors  who  make  a  specialty  of 
Peruvian  stamps  make  the  number  much 
larger.  In  general,  these  stamps  are  simply 
the  regular  Peruvian  issue  of  1874-79  with 
different  surcharges.  The  victorious  Chil- 
ians printed  their  coat  of  arms  on  these 
stamps — sometimes  alone,  and  at  other  times 
the  arms  and  a  band  in  a  horseshoe  frame, 
with  the  words  "  Union  Postal  Universal — 
Peru."  The  Peruvians  used  the  same  horse- 
shoe baud  as  a  surcharge,  but  without  the 
Chilian  arms.  Another  Peruvian  surcharge 
is  the  triangle  with  the  word  "  Peru,"  and 
above  it  a  character  intended  to  represent 
the  sun.  As  almost  all  these  surcharges 
were  printed  by  a  hand-stamp,  they  are  ea- 
sily counterfeited,  and  collectors  should  be 
careful  to  buy  these  stamps  from  responsi- 
ble dealers  only. 

Gii.itKitT  JACKSON. — There  are  five  varieties  of  the 
$5  United  States  Internal  Revenue  stamps' first  issue. 
The  perforated  ones  are  worth  from  two  cents  to 
thirty-five  cents  each.  There  are  eleven  fl  stamps  of 
the  same  issue,  worth  from  one  cent  to  $2  50  each. 
Twelve  varieties  of  the  fifty-cent  stamp,  worth  from 
one  cent  to  $1  each. 

J.  R.  P. — The  1815  reprints  of  1809  are  on  very  white 
paper.  The  2c.  of  this  issue  is  worth  $3.  Many  of 
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HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE 


FKEDDY  (fire  years  old).  "Boys, 
keep  away  from  me." 

CHORUS.  "  Why,  what's  the  mat- 
ter ?" 

FREDDY.  "The  teacher  said  I 
was  sharp  to-day,  and  you  might 
set  cut," 


MOTHER.  "Frank,  what  is  baby 
crying  about  ?" 

FRANK.  "  I  guess  because  I  took 
his  cake  and  showed  him  how  to 
eat  it." 


"NOW    I    KNOW    PUSSY    ATE   UP    MY    GOLDFISH,   FOR    YOU    OAN    BEE   THE   BONES   STICKING    OUT 
OF   UKli   OUKKK8.  " 


A   QUESTION   OF   PEDIGREE. 
"Now   who  is  that  ?"  asked  a  dignified  hen; 

"That  chicken  in   white  aud  gray? 
.She's  very  well  dressed,  but  from  whence  did  she  come  ? 

And  her  family,  who  are  they?" 

"  She  never  can  move  in  our  set,  my  dear," 

Said  the  old  hen's  friend  to  her,  later; 
"I've  just  found  out — you'll  bo  shocked  to  hear — 

She  iron  /(«/(•/«•</  in  mi   incubator!" 


THERE  is  a  story  going  the  rounds 
of  the  British  press  about  two  very 
distinguished  archaeologists —  Sir 
William  Wilde  and  Dr.  Donovan. 
It  seems  that  these  two  gentlemen 
made  an  excursion  to  the  Isles  of 
Arran,  where  interesting  remains  of 
archaeological  nature  have  been 
found. 

They  came  across  a  little  rough 
stone  building,  aud  both  entered 
into  a  fierce  argument  as  to  the  ex- 
act century  of  its  erection.  Final- 
ly each  claimed  a  date,  one  giving 
it  the  sixth  century,  aud  the  other  a 
later  one. 

A  native  who  had  listened  with 
gaping  mouth  and  ears  to  the 
lengthy  aud  learned  terms  used  by 
the  disputants,  broke  into  the  con- 
versation with  the  remark,  "  Faix,  you're  both  wrong  as  far 
as  that  little  bnildin'  is  consumed;  it  was  built  just  two 
years  ago  by  Tint  Doolau  for  his  jackass." 


PATRICK,  in  answer  to  an  advertisement  fora  coachman, 
applied  for  the  position.  He  was  one  of  three  applicants, 
and  patiently  waited  until  his  turn  arrived  to  offer  his  ser- 
vices. The  gentleman  who  wanted  the  coachman  loved  a 
joke,  and  when  the  first  applicant  had  answered  a  few  of 
his  questions,  he  finally  asked  him, 

"How  near  to  the  edge  of  a  precipice  would  you  under- 
take to  drive  ruy  carriage  ?" 

"  Your  Honor,  I'd  come  within  a  foot  of  it." 

The  same  question  was  put  to  the  second  applicant,  who 
replied, 

••  I'll  drive  within  three  inches  of  it  all  the  way,  aud  never 
slip  a  wheel." 

Patrick  was  then  asked  what  he  would  do.  "Faith,  your 
Honor,  I'd  kape  as  far  away  from  the  idge  as  possible."  Pat- 
rick was  engaged. 


A  higliwnyman  grim— here's  a  picture  ol  him — 
A  traveller  ouce  did  waylay, 


KVKUY  hoy  and  girl  has  doubtless  heard  of  the  great 
composer  Handel.  Here  is  a  little  story  told  of  him  and  of 
Dr.  '. Maurice  Green,  a  musician  whose  compositions  were 
urMT  remarkably  line.  It  seems  he  had  sent  a  solo  an- 
them tn  Handel  for  bis  opinion,  and  Handel  invited  him  to 
Like  breakfast,  and  In-  \\onM  say  what  he  thought  of  it. 
After  coffer,  Green's  patience  became  exhausted,  aud  he  said, 
••  Well,  sir,  what  did  you  think  of  it  ?" 

"  Ob,  your  anthem  !     Ah,  I  did  t'ink  dat  it  wanted  air." 

"  Air!"  cried  Green. 

••  Yes,  air :  and  so  I  did  bain;  it  out  of  de  vindow,1'  replied 
Handel. 


But  his  pistols  were  rusted ;  he  fired :  they  busted. 


"JAMES, "asked  the  school-teacher,  "what  do  you  do  \\iih 
your  odd  moments  after  school  .'" 

"I  waits  until  they  adds  up  into  an  hour,  and  then  I 
goes  fishin'." 


Ami  the  traveller  went  on  his  way. 
THE   HIGHWAYMAN   AND    THE  TRAVELLER. 


6G4 


HARPERS 


\W3 


ROUND  TABLE 


Copyright,  1S95,  by  HARPKK  &  BROTHERS.     All  Rights  Reserved. 


F  U  BL1SHED     W  EEKLV. 
VOL.  XVI. — NO.  818. 


NEW  YOEK,  TUESDAY,  JULY  2.  1895 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY 
TWO    DOLLARS    A    TEAI 


A     MISPLACED     "FOURTH." 


BY    JAMES    BARNES. 


THE  male  population  of  MitUHetoii,  Ohio,  in  the  early 
summer  of  186—  appeared  to  consist  altogether  of  old 
men  and  boys.  True,  a  few  young  men,  most  of  them 
dressed  in  blue  coats  with  brass  buttons,  were  to  be  seen  on 
the  streets,  but  nearly  all  of  them  carried  their  arms  in 
slings,  and  one  tall  lad  of  twenty,  who  had  once  been  the 
"best  runner  in  the  village,  hobbled  along  on  crutches,  with 
an  empty  trouser  leg  pinned  up  at  the  knee. 

One  bright  morning  three  Middleton  boys  were  sitting 
astride  the  top  rail  of  a  zigzag  fence  that  ran  along  a  liill- 
side  at  the  edge  of  a  thicket  of  underbrush.  A  long  Ken- 
tucky ride  lay  across  a  near-by  log.  One  of  the  boys  lirld 
in  his  hand  a  glass  bottle  stopped  with  a  bit  of  rag.  An- 
other had  on  a  leather  belt  with  "  U.S. "on  the  brass  plate. 
— upside  down.  The  third  boy  was  digging  at  the  rail  with 
a  dull  jackkuife. 

"I  came  near  to  running  away  and  goiu'as  a  drummer- 
boy,"  said  the  youngster  with  the.  belt,  "but  they  wouldn't 
take  me  on  account  of  my  age.  I'll  be  old  enough  this  fall." 
he  added.  ••  Then  you'll  see." 


"  Your  mother  wouldn't  let  you  go,  Skinny,"  said  the  boy 
with  the  bottle.  "  She  told  Grandad  that  two  was  enough." 

"  Father  'd  let  me  go  if  lie  wani't  with  Sherman,"  said 
Skinny,  "and  brother  Bill  said  I  drummed  good  enough." 

••  My  father  wants  me  to  stay  home  and  look  after  ma," 
the  second  boy  sighed.  There  had  been  no  news  of  his  fa- 
ther for  six  mouths,  now. 

"I've  got  a  letter  from  Alfred,  written  jes  before  he  was 
taken  prisoner,  I  guess,"  said  the  third  boy,  closing  his 
knife.  He  drew  out  of  his  pocket  an  envelope  with  the 
picture  of  an  American  flag  on  it. 

"Go  on  and  read  it  to  us, "said  the  oldest  boy,  wriggling 
himself  up  closer.  And  Hosmer  Curtis  began — following 
the  words  with  his  thumb: 

"  CUU.UMS'S  LANDING. 

"DEAR  BROTIIKI:, — I  wish  I  was  to  home  to-night,  with 
you  all  sitting  in  the  kitchen,  and  mother  reading  to  us  the 
way  she  used  to,  rather  than  being  here.  I  am  writing 
this  by  moonlight  mostly,  as  it  is  getting  late.  We  have. 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


I. .1.1  a  bin  light  all  day.  but  drove  the  Uebs  back  across  :i 
crick  into  a  s\\  ani[>,  w  lien-  \vc  raptured  a  lot  of  them  stuck 
in  I  lie  mud.  1  am  dreadful  sorry  to  say  that  Tom  Ditchard 
was  killed.  Poor  Tom!  I  suppose  the  home  papers  will  tell 
all  a  In  Hi  I  it:  he  was  shot  lording  the  crick.  1  have  his  watch  ; 
he  ga\e  ii  to  me  to  bring  back  home.  1  hope  I  shall  do  SO. 
'I'o  mo)  ni\v  we  will  move  westward  to  head  nil' Morgan.  I 
guess  :  1  hope  we  w  on't  march  Car,  tor  in.v  boots  are  all  worn 
out. and  my  left  are  sore.  JJut  I  am  well  ;  ]o\c  to  all,  and 
kiss  motliei.  1  \\iote  her  two  days  ago. 

"Your  aflec  brother.  ALFKKII. 

"P.S. — The  Fourth  of  July  will  soon  be  hen:.  I  suppose 
you  will  have  uo  tire  works,  though  perhaps  KT  shall.  Good- 
by." 

"I  don't  kuow  as  I'd  like  to  be  a  soldier,"  said  the  ho\ 
with  the  gunpowder  bottle  —  he  was  also  the  proud  pos- 
sessor of  the  loug  rifle.  ••  'Tisn't  so  much  fun,  I  guess.  Think 
so,  Skinny?" 

"You're  a 'fraid-eat,'' returned  The  buy  with  the  belt. 
"That's  what  yon  are.  Will  Tex  is." 

The  other  flushed,  but  said  nothing;  he  was  by  far  the 
smallest  of  the  three. 

"How  do  you  know  Alfred  was  captured  ?"  said  the  thin 
one,  after  a  silence  of  a  minute. 

"He  was  on  the  missing  list — that's  all  we  kuow, "said 
Hosujer,  putting  the  letter  hack  into  his  pocket. 

"It  will  be  the  Fourth  in  two  days,  now ,"  remarked 
Skinny,  as  if  to  change  the  subject.  "But  I  hain't  heard 
any  talk  about  any  celebration.'' 

"Let's  have  one  all  to  ourselves,"  suggested  Hosmer. 

"What  with  .'"asked  the  smallest  boy.  "I  guess  this  is 
all  the  gunpowder  there  is  in  town."  He  held  up  the  bottle. 
"  'Tain't  more'n  three  charges,  any  how;"  he  added. 

"  I  kuow  where  there's  all  the  powder  you  want  to  look 
a  I. "said  the  thin  warrior,  who  jumped  suddenly  down  from 
the  feuce.  "Oh!  and  I  say,  you  know  the  two  old  iron 
cannon — if  we  could  only  get  them  out — hey  ?" 

"  They're  locked  up  in  the  engine-house," rejoined  Master 
Tevis. 

"What's  the  matter  with  au  anvil  ?  It  makes  a  lot  of 
noise,"  suggested  Hosmer.  "  Where  do  you  get  the  powder, 
Skiuuy  ?" 

"  Skinny,"  whose  real  name  was  Ambrose  F.  Skinner,  J  tin., 
assumed  a  very  mysterious  air. 

"Now,  listen,  and  I'll  tell  you,"  he  said.  "  You  remember 
when  they  had  that  smash  up  on  the  railroad  last  week — 
don't  yon  "' 

"You  menu  the  train  going  South  to  the  army  ?"  asked 
Hosmer. 

"Yep,  that's  it.  Happened  last  Thursday."  responded 
Ambrose,  growing  excited.  "Well!  they  ran  twobangcd- 
U))  cars  back  on  the  siding  above  the.  river-bridge,  aud  left 
'em.  1  guess  they  forgot,  p'r'aps.  Hut  the  worst-busted 
car  is  loaded  with  powder.  I  -aw  the  barrels:  one  of  them 
had  a  big  hole  in  it.  I  say,  come  along,  I'll  show  vou. 
'Tain't  far." 

"Come  on  ;  let's!"  was  the  united  answer.  The  two  lis- 
teners jumped  to  the  ground,  and  Master  Tevis  picked  up 
the  rifle.  Then  the  three  struck  off  across  the  hill,  aud 
walked  along  a  path  through  the  thicket  of  scrub-oak. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  boys  were  standing  beside  two 
heavy  freight-cars  on  a  crooked  timber  su  itch.  The  end 
of  one  had  been  broken  in  as  if  by  a  collision,  and  the 
trucks  of  both  were  injured. 

Skiuny  climbed  into  the  wrecked  car,  and  lifted  the  end 
of  a  tarpauling  that  co\ered  some-barrels. 

"There  you  are,"  he  said,  triumphantly.  "All  the  powder 
you  want — uutt'to  blow  up  the  town." 

"I  dou't  suppose  they'll  let  'em  stay  here  very  loug, "said 
Hosmer. 

"But  they  can't  send  them  South  on  the  road  now, "re- 
marked Tevis.  "The  big  bridge  is  down  ten  miles  below 
— heard  tell  of  it  last  night.  They  will  have  to  go  back 
tlie  other  way;  uot  a  train's  been  through  for  forty 
hours." 

Tevis's  grandfather  was  the  station-agent  at  Middletoii, 
and  he  spoke  with  au  air  of  certain  knowledge. 


"Come,  hand  up  your  bottle  and  we  w  ill  hll  her  up," said 
Skinner,  extending  his  hand. 

Will  Te\  is  paused.  "I  say,  fellows,"  he  said,  "  I  don't 
think  it,  would  be  right.  Do  you,  Hosmerf" 

"A  bottleful  would  never  be  missed,"  interposed  Skinny. 
•'There's  more'n  that  spilled  here  on  the  floor.  We  iimxl 
celebrate  the  Fourth.  Why  not,  boys  ?  Eh!" 

It  was  evident  that.  Master  Skinner's  intentions  were 
liable  to  change',  however,  and  that  some  scruples  were 
arising  even  in  his  miud,  for  he  said,  testily, 

"  You're  a  'fraid-cat ,  Will  Tevis." 

The  latter  put  down  the  rifle.  "If  you  say  that  again, 
Ambrose  Skinner.  I'll  light  you,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  come,  don't  talk  like  that, "said  Hosmer,  quietly. 
"Will  is  right.  Skinny  ;  we  oughtn't  to  touch  the  powder. 
It  belongs  to  I'nele  Sam." 

"He  would  not  miss  a  handful,"  said  Skinny,  shame- 
facedly. Then  he  added,"!  guess  von  «/r  right,  though, 
come  to  think.  Let's  go  back  to  the  village;  it's  most  four 
o'clock." 

The  boys  walked  down  the  grade.  A  mile  away  was  a 
wooden  box-bridge  with  a  carriageway  on  one  side  aud 
the  single  track  on  the  other.  It  spanned  a  deep  and 
swiftly  running  stream  that  opened  into  the  Ohio  River  a 
few  leagues  below.  It  was  here  the  accident  had  taken 
place. 

As  they  caiue  into  the  village  street  they  saw  that  a 
crowd  had  collected  around  the  post-office. 

"News  from  the  front!"  shouted  Tevis,  in  the  familial- 
words  they  had  so  often  heard  ;  aud  the  trio  started  for- 
ward on  a  run. 

On  the  outside  of  the  post-office  shutters  was  a  big  pla- 
card drawn  hastily  up  in  red  ink: 

THE  KE13ELS  AKE  IN  OHIO ! 

GUNK  UAL      MOliGAX      CHOSSES      T11K      lUVKli! 
GREAT   ALAK.M  !   TWO   BATTLES   FOUGHT! 

These  words  stared  them  iu  the  face.  The  news  had 
come  by  telegram  from  Turkeyville  ;  but  soon  after  the  line 
had  ceased  to  work,  and  uo  particulars  could  be  obtained. 
It  was  late  that  night  when  the  boys  went  to  bed.  The 
morrow  was  to  lie  an  eventful  oue  for  Middleton,  and  there 
was  a  feeling  of  uneasiness  ill  the  air. 

The  next  day  was  the  3d  of  July. 

Will  Tevis  was  awakeued  by  a  tremeudous  clangor  of 
bells. 

"Fire!"  shouted  Will,  making  one  dive  from  the  bed  to 
the  window. 

He  opened  the  shutters  with  a  crash;  but  not  a  sigu  of 
smoke  w  as  there  to  be  seen.  What  could  it  mean  ? 

"Sounds  like  the  Fourth,"  he  said,  leaning  over  the  sill 
aud  craning  his  neck  to  right  aud  left. 

The  Tevis  house  was  far  up  the  slope, on  which  the  vil- 
lage stood,  and  Will  could  look  dowu  one  of  the  long- 
streets.  He  saw  people  ruuuiug  from  the  houses  ami 
heading  for  the  Court-house  square. 

He  hurried  on  his  clothes,  jumped  down  the  back  stairs, 
and  rushed  to  the  street,  joining  his  grandfather  on  the 
way.  At  the  gate  as  they  turned  into  the  dusty  road  they 
met  Ambrose  Skinner. 

"  Heard  the  news  ?"  he  yelled,  as  he  approached. 

"  What  is  it  ?  Has  any  oue  surrendered  .*"  asked  old  Mr. 
Tevis.  breathlessly. 

"  No  !"  shouted  Skinny,  at  the  top  of  his  lungs,  although 
he  was  quite  near.  "The  Eebels  are  coming!  I'm  off  to 
summon  Judge  Black.  They're  going  to  hold  a  meeting  at 
the  Court-house."  Ou  he  ran. 

Grandfather  Tevis  surprised  himself,  for  in  his  excite- 
ment he  had  struck  into  a  long  swinging  gait  that  com- 
pelled Will  to  his  best  efl'orts  to  keep  up. 

At  the  square  all  was  coufusiou.  The  Middletou  "  Home 
Guards  "were  there,  forty-eight  in  number,  composed  most- 
ly of  uieu  who  were  too  old  for  service.  There  was  not  a 
leader  among  them. 

Mr.  Tevis  forced  his  way  iuto  a  room  ou  the  grouud- 
floor  of  the  Court-house.  Somebody  held  up  his  hand  to 
enjoin  silence. 

"They  are  receiving  a  telegram  from  Dresden  down   the 


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ri\i  r."  whispered  a  short,  pale-faced    mail,  in   Mr.  'IV vis's 
ear. 

There  was  a  single  win-  connecting  Middleton  with 
Dresden,  twenty-one  miles  tn  tin-  westward.  The  nervous 
<i]irratur  was  translating'  the  dots  and  dashes  into  words. 

"The-rebels-are-in-fiill  -  sight.  -  now  -  entering-  the- town. 
The -home -guards- ha  ve-run-away."  Then  there  "as  ;t 
pause.  "  The  -  rebels-are-breakiug-iuto-the-stores.  They- 
kavi'-not-come-to-t  he-rail  way-station-yet." 

"  He  is  a  brave  man  to  stick  to  his  post  so,"  said  Mr. 
Tevis,  out  loiul. 

"  Hush,"  said  the  pale-faced  man  ;  "  here  he  comes  again." 

••  Tick-a-tick,"  began   the    instrument.      "  A-battery-of- 
artillery-is-with-them.    They-are-here-at-the-statiou.    I — 
The  instrument  stopped  suddenly. 

"  Something  has  happened, ''said  the  operator,breathlessly. 

"  Call  him  up,"  said  some  one. 

"He  does  not  answer."  said  the  operator,  after  a  feu- 
minutes.  But  as  he  spoke  a  slow  ticking  came  from  the 
receiver. 

'•  Hello!"  it  spelled, laboriously. 

"That  isn't  Jed  Worth,"  said  the  operator.  "Some  one 
else  has  got  hold  of  the  wire." 

"  Hold  on  ;  ask  who  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Tevis. 

Then  an  idea  came  in  Will  Tevis'  head,  and  he  spoke  up. 
"Ask  if  it  is  Frank, "he  said. 

"  What  for?'7  inquired  the  operator,  with  his  fingers  on 
the  key. 

"Because  if  they  answer  yi-s,  you  will  know  they  are 
trying  to  fool  you,"  he  said. 

There  was  a  murmur  of  approval. 

"Is-that-you-Frauk  .'"  telegraphed  the  operator. 

"Yes,"  came  the  unhesitating  answer. 

"  Ask  him  if  he  has  seen  anything  of  the  Rebs,"  suggested 
Mr.  Tevis. 

'•  No."  was  the  response  to  this  inquiry,  '•  not  one." 

"  He's  a  pretty  good  liar,"  said  the  pale-faced  man,  half 
to  himself.  The  instrument  began  to  work  again. 

"Are  there  any  troops  at  Middleton,"  slowly  asked  the 
Reb  operator  down  the  line. 

An  answer  was  clicked  hack  hastily. 

"I  told  him  that  we  had  a  regiment  and  two  batteries 
of  artillery,"  whispered  the  young  man  at  the  desk,  smiling. 

"Why  under  the  sun  didn't  you  make  it  an  army  corps," 
said  Mr.  Tevis. 

The  operator  tried  again,  but  no  answer  came.  Dresden 
had  switched  off  for  good.  A  bustle  and  a  cheer  outside  in 
the  square  showed  that  something  was  going  forward. 
Judge  Black  had  arrived.  The  Judge  was  a  veteran  of  the 
Mexican  war;  his  age  alone  had  prevented  him  from  accept- 
ing a  commission  in  the  army;  but  the  village  had  a  great 
resprrt  for  his  military  knowledge.  He  was  offered  the 
command  of  the  forces  by  the  Mayor;  about  four  hundred 
had  gathered:  but  there  were  no  more  than  seventy  muskets, 
with  less  than  four  rounds  apiece.  A  search  of  the  town  shops 
disclosed  the  fact  that  there  Were  but  ten  pounds  of  good 
powder  to  be  had.  Now  •'  Skinny  "  came  to  the  rescue  with 
the  same  words  he  had  used  ou  the  day  before. 

"  I  know  where  there's  all  the  powder  you  want,"  he 
said,  and  he  told  of  the  freight-car  ou  the  siding.  Despite 
the  broken  truck  it  was  brought  down  the  grade  to  the 
station,  and  two  barrels  were  unloaded. 

•'  Why  not  blow  up  the  bridge  ?"  suggested  Will  to  his 
grandfather  in  a  whisper,  which  the  Judge  overheard. 

"  We  may  have  to  come  to  that,"  said  the  Judge,  turning. 

"We'll  leave  that  to  the  last,  though.  Now  we  must 
throw  up  iutreuchmeuts,  and  mount  our  two  field-pieces. 
What's  in  those  crates  *" 

"  Uniforms,  by  jingo!"  said  a  man  inside  the  car. 

"  Get  them  out,"  said  the  Judge ;  "  our  forces  must  be  uni- 
formed. Have  those  mounted  scouts  been  sent  out  .'"  he 
added. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  Mayor ;   "  an  hour  ago." 

In  a  short,  time  the  slope  below  Middleton  presented  a 
curious  sight;  four  hundred  men  and  boys  dressed  in  new 
uniforms  with  shining  brass  buttons  were  digging  a  long 
trench  that  stretched  from  the  railway  track  to  a  steep 
bluff' on  the  east.  The  old  iron  guns  were  in  a  position  to 


command  the  bridge  and  the  further  bank.  The  freight- 
ear  with  over  two  tons  of  gunpowder  on  board  was  anchored 
firmly  in  the  centre  of  the  bridge. 

One  man  was  left  at  the  bridge  to  fire  the  train  of  powdei 
if  the  enemy  advanced.  About  four  o'clock  a  very  respect- 
able fortification  had  been  made  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill, 
aud  the  few  guns  were  distributed  along  it.  The  little 
army  paused  to  rest.  The  women  and  children  bad  long' 
ago  been  sent  north  across  the  hills.  At  half  past  four  a 
man  on  horseback  thundered  across  the  bridge ;  he  was 
closely  followed  by  two  others. 

"The  Rebs  are  coming!"  they  shouted.  "Thousands  of 
them." 

In  fact,  almost  at  their  heels  rose  a  cloud  of  dust,  and 
two  or  three  cavalrymen  rode  out  on  the  bank  of  the  river. 
They  appeared  surprised  at  the  line  of  earthworks,  and  the 
blue  coats  that  here  and  there  showed  plainly.  In  a  few 
minutes  more  the  bank  was  lined  with  rebel  horsemen. 

"Why  doesn't  he  light  the  fuse?"  said  the  Commander-in- 
chief,  nervously  looking  toward  the  bridge. 

As  he  spoke  a  man  ran  up  the  track  from  the  bridge  ;  he 
turned  aud  looked  back  two  or  three  times  as  if  expecting 
something  to  happen.  But  nothing  happened. 

"It  failed  to  go  oft"," said  the  man,  out  of  breath,  as  he 
jumped  into  the  trench. 

The  Judge  scowled  at  him.  "Let  go  that  battery,"  he 
said.  "  Commence  firing." 

At  the  first  discharge  one  of  the  old  cannons  burst,  Inckily 
hurting  no  one,  and  the  straggling  volley  that  followed 
only  showed  to  the  enemy  the  weakness  of  their  opponents. 
A  rebel  with  a  powerful  field-glass  had  climbed  a  tree  aud 
taken  in  the  situation.  The  enemy  was  preparing  for  au 
advance.  That  was  evident. 

"  Hang  that  fool!"  said  the  Judge  ;  "  if  he'd  kept  his  wits 
about  him,  we'd  be  safe.  I  don't  believe  he  waited  to  strike 
a  match.  They  could  never  ford  the  river." 

But  he  or  no  one  else  had  seen  a  figure  in  a  uniform 
much  too  big  for  his  small  body  steal  across  the  track  and 
crawl  on  all-fours  down  the  embankment  ou  the  further 
side.  AU  at  once  they  saw  him  emerge  into  sight  and  dive 
into  the  shadow  of  the  bridge.  It  was  Will  Tevis. 

Just  as  the  cavalry  were  preparing  to  charge,  he  came 
into  sight  again,  running  swiftly  down  the  middle  of  the 
track.  A  faint  smoke  arose  from  the  bridge  entrance, 
several  shots  were  fired  at  him ;  but  on  he  came.  The  in- 
treuchments  now  broke  out  into  flame  just  as  there  came  a 
terrific  roar,  a  bursting  rending  sound,  and  the  bridge 
disappeared.  Will  Tevis  in  the  ill-fitting  uniform  was  a 
hero.  The  rebels  were  forced  to  keep  the  other  side  of  the 
swollen  river,  but  exchanged  shots  for  some  time  before 
they  drew  away. 

Coming  up  the  hill  late  in  the  evening  Hosnier  and 
Will  met  Skinny.  "  Where  have  you  been?"  they  asked. 

"  Up  in  town  looking  for  a  drum,"  Skinny  replied,  flush- 
ing. "  Will,  I  'pologize  for  calliu'  you  a  'fraid-cat." 

The  next  day  there  was  again  no  powder  in  the  village ; 
but  Judge  Black  made  a  speech  which  began,  "On  this 
glorious  occasion." 

"I  wish  we  had  some  fireworks  for  to-night, "said  Hos- 
mer,  after  the  old  veteran  had  concluded. 

"Never  mind  that,  boys,"  said  Grandfather  Tevis,  who 
had  overheard.  "You  boys  had  your  Fourth  yesterday." 


SNOW-SHOES    AND    SLEDGES.* 

BY     K  I  K  K     M  U  N  R  O  E. 

C  H  A  P  T  E  1!     XXXV. 
HOW  JALAP   COOMBS  MADE   POUT. 

THE  things  ou  which  we  are  apt  to  set  the  highest  value 
in  this  world  are  those  that  we  have  lost,  aud  even  our 
friends  are,  as  a  rule,  most  highly  appreciated  after  they 
have  been  taken  from  us.     Thus,  in  the  present  instance. 
Phil  and  Serge  had  so  sincerely  mourned  the  loss  of  their 
quaint  hut  loyal  comrade,  that  his  restoration  to  them  alive 
*  Beguu  iu  UAKPEB'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  Nu.  30 


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and  well,  "hearty  and  hungry,"  as  he  himself  expressed  it, 
filled  them  with  unbounded  joy.  They  hung  about  him, 
and  lovingly  brushed  the  snow  from  his  fur  clothing,  and 
plied  him  with  many  questions. 

Even  Nel-te  showed  delight  at  the  return  of  his  big 
playmate  by  cuddling  up  to  him,  and  stroking  his  weather- 
beaten  cheeks,  and  confiding  to  him  how  very  hungry  he 
•was. 

"  Me  too,  Cap'u  Kid !"  exclaimed  Jalap  Coombs  ;  "  and  I 
must  say  you're  a  mighty  tempting  inossel  to  a  man  as  nigh 
starved  as  I  be.  Jest  about  boiling  age,  plump  and  tender. 
Cap'u  Kid,  look  out,  for  I'm  mighty  inclined  to  stow  ye 
away." 

"Try  this  instead,"  laughed  Phil,  holding  out  a  chunk  of 
frozen  pemmicau  that  he  had  just  chopped  off.  "We're  in 
the  biggest  kind  of  luck  to-day,"  he  continued.  "  I  didn't 
know  there  was  a  mouthful  of  anything  to  eat  on  this 
sledge,  and  here  I've  just  found  about  five  pounds  of  pem- 
micau. It  does  seem  to  me  the  very  best  pemmicau  that 
was  ever  put  up,  too,  and  I  only  wonder  that  we  didn't  eat 
it  long  ago.  I'm  going  to  get  my  aunt  Ruth  to  make  me 
a  lot  of  it  just  as  soon  as  ever  I  get  home." 

As  they  sat  before  the  fire  on  a  tree  felled  and  stripped 
of  its  branches  for  the  purpose,  and  munched  frozen  poiu- 
micau,  and  took  turns  iu  sipping  strong  unsweetened  tea 
from  the  only  cup  now  left  to  them,  Jalap  Coombs  de- 
scribed his  thrilling  experiences  of  the  preceding  night. 

According  to  his  story,  one  of  his  dogs  gave  out,  and  he 
stopped  to  unharness  it  with  the  hope  that  it  would  still 
have  strength  to  follow  the  sledge.  While  he  was  thus 
engaged  the  storm  broke,  the  blinding  rush  of  snow  swept 
over  the  mountains,  and  as  he  looked  up  he  found  to  his 
dismay  that  the  other  sledge  was  already  lost  to  view.  He 
at  once  started  to  overtake  it,  urging  ou  the  reluctant  dogs 
by  every  means  in  his  power;  but  after  a  few  minutes  of 
struggle  against  the  furious  gale,  they  lay  down  and  re- 
fused to  move.  After  cutting  their  traces  that  they  might 
follow  him  if  they  chose,  the  man  set  forth  alone,  with 
bowed  and  uncertain  steps,  ou  a  hopeless  quest  for  his 
comrades.  He  did  not  find  them,  as  we  know,  though 
once  he  heard  a  faint  cry  from  off  to  one  side.  Heading  iu 
that  direction,  the  uext  thing  he  knew  he  had  plunged 
over  the  precipice,  and  found  himself  sliding,  rolling,  and 
bounding  downward  with  incredible  velocity. 

"The  trip  must  have  lasted  an  hour  or  more,"  said  Jalap 
Coombs,  soberl3',  iu  describing  it,  "and  when  I  finally 
brung  up  all  standing,  I  couldn't  make  out  for  quite  a  spell 
•whether  I  were  still  ou  top  of  the  earth,  or  had  gone 
plumb  through  to  the  other  side.  I  kuowed  every  rib  and 
timber  of  my  framing  were  broke,  and  every  plank  start- 
ed; but  somehow  I  managed  to  keep  my  head  above  wa- 
ter, and  struck  out  for  shore.  I  made  port  under  a  tree, 
and  went  to  sleep.  When  I  woke  at  the  end  of  the  watch, 
I  found  all  hatches  closed  and  battened  down.  So  I  were 
jest  turuiug  over  again  when  I  heerd  a  hail,  and  knowrd 
I  were  wanted  on  deck.  And,  boys,  I've  had  happy  mo- 
ments iu  my  life,  but  I  reckon  the  happiest  of 'em  all  were 
when  I  broke  out  and  seen  you  two  with  the  kid,  standing 
quiet  and  respectful,  and  heerd  ye  saying,  'Good-morning, 
sir,  aud  hoping  you've  passed  a  quiet  night,'  like  I  were 
a  full-rigged  cap'u." 

"As  you  certainly  deserve  to  be,  Mr.  Coombs,"  laughed 
Phil, ''and  as  I  believe  you  will  be  before  long,  for  I  don't 
think  we  can  be  very  far  from  salt  water  at  this  mo- 
ment." 

"  It's  beeu  seeming  to  me  that  I  could  smell  it !"  exclaimed 
the  sailorrnau,  eagerly  sniffing  the  air  as  he  spoke.  "Aud, 
ef  you're  agreeable,  sir,  I  moves  that  we  set  sail  for  it  at 
once.  My  hull's  pretty  well  battered  and  stove  in,  but  top 
works  is  solid,  standing  aud  running  rigging  all  right,  aud 
I  reckon  by  steady  pumping  we  can  navigate  the  old  craft 
to  port  yet." 

"All  aboard,  theu !  Up  anchor,  aud  let's  be  oft'!"  shouted 
Phil,  so  excited  at  the  prospect  of  a  speedy  termination  to 
their  journey  that  he  could  not  bear  a  moment's  longer  de- 
lay iu  attaining  it. 

So  they  set  merrily  and  hopefully  forth,  and  followed 
the  windings  of  the  valley,  keeping  just  beyond  the  forest 


edge.  In  summer-time  they  would  have  found  it  filled  with 
impassable  obstacles — huge  bowlders,  landslides,  a  network 
of  logs  aud  fallen  trees,  and  a  roaring  torrent;  but  now  it 
was  packed  with  snow  to  such  an  incredible  depth  that  all 
these  things  lay  far  beneath  their  feet  and  the  way  was 
made  easy. 

By  nightfall  they  had  reached  the  mouth  of  the  valley, 
and  saw,  opening  before  them,  one  so  much  wider  that  it 
reminded  them  of  the  broad  expanse  of  the  frozen  Yukon. 
The  course  of  this  new  valley  was  almost  north  and  south, 
aud  they  felt  certain  that  it  must  lead  to  the  sea.  In  spite 
of  their  anxiety  to  follow  it,  darkness  compelled  them  to 
seek  a  camping-place  iu  the  timber.  That  evening  they 
ate  all  that  remained  of  their  pemmican,  excepting  a  small 
bit  that  was  reserved  for  Nel-te's  breakfast 

They  made  up,  as  far  as  possible,  for  their  lack  of  food 
by  building  the  most  gorgeous  camp-fire  of  the  entire  jour- 
ney. They  felled  several  green  trees  close  together,  aud 
placed  it  ou  them  so  that  it  should  not  melt  its  way  down 
out  of  sight  through  the  deep  snow.  Then  they  felled  dead 
trees  and  cut  them  into  logs.  These,  together  with  dead 
branches,  they  piled  up,  until  they  had  a  structure  forty 
feet  long  by  ten  feet  high.  They  set  lire  to  it  with  the  last 
match  in  their  possession,  and  as  the  flumes  gathered  head- 
Way  and  roared  aud  leaped  to  the  very  tops  of  the  sur- 
rounding trees  even  Phil  was  obliged  to  acknowledge  that 
at  last  he  was  thoroughly  and  uncomfortably  warm. 

The  following  morning  poor  Jalap  was  so  stiff  and  lame 
that  his  face  was  contorted  with  pain  when  he  attempted 
to  rise.  "  Never  mind,"  he  cried,  cheerily,  as  he  noted  Phil's 
anxious  expression,  "  I'll  fetch  it.  Just  give  me  a  few  min- 
utes' leeway." 

And  sure  enough  in  a  few  minutes  he  was  on  his  feet 
rubbing  his  legs,  stretching  his  arms,  and  twisting  his 
body  "to  limber  up  the  j'ints."  Although  in  a  torment  of 
pain  he  soon  declared  himself  ready  for  the  day's  tramp, 
aud  they  set  forth.  Ere  they  had  gone  half  a  mile,  how- 
ever, it  was  evident  that  he  could  walk  uo  further.  The 
pain  of  the  ett'ort  was  too  great  even  for  his  sturdy  deter- 
mination, aud,  when  he  finally  sank  down  with  a  groan, 
the  boys  helped  him  on  the  sledge,  and  attached  themselves 
to  its  pulliug-bar  with  long  thongs  of  rawhide. 

The  two  stalwart  young  fellows,  together  with  three  dogs 
made  a  strong  team,  but  the  snow  was  so  soft,  aud  their 
load  so  heavy,  that  by  noon  they  had  not  made  more  than 
ten  miles.  They  had,  however,  reached  the  end  of  their 
second  valley,  aud  came  upon  a  most  extraordinary  scene. 
As  far  as  the  eye, could  reach  ou  either  side,  stretched  a  vast 
plain  of  frozen  whiteness.  On  its  further  border,  directly 
iu  front  of  them,  but  some  ten  miles  away,  rose  a  chain  of 
mountains  bisected  by  a  deep  wide  cut  like  a  gateway. 

"  It  must  be  an  arm  of  the  sea,  frozen  over  aud  covered 
with  snow,"  said  Phil. 

"  But,"  objected  Serge,  "  on  this  coast  no  such  body  of 
salt  water  stays  frozeu  so  late  in  the  season ;  for  we  are 
well  into  April  now,  you  know." 

"Theu  it  is  a  great  lake." 

"I  never  heard  of  any  lake  ou  this  side  of  the  moun- 
tains." 

"I  don't  reckon  it's  the  sea;  but  salt  water's  mighty 
nigh,"  said  Jalap  Coouibs,  sniffing  the  air  as  eagerly  as  a 
hound  on  the  scent  of  game. 

"  Whatever  it  is, "said  Phil,  "  we've  got  to  cross  it,  and  I 
am  going  to  head  straight  for  that  opening." 

So  they  again  bent  to  their  traces,  and  a  few  hours  later 
had  crossed  the  great  white  plain,  and  were  skirting  the 
base  of  a  mountaiu  that  rose  on  their  left.  Its  splintered 
crags  showed  the  dull  red  of  iron  rust  wherever  they  were 
bare  of  snow,  and  only  thin  fringes  of  snow  were  to  be  seeu 
in  its  more  sheltered  gorges. 

Suddenly  Phil  halted,  his  face  paled,  and  his  lips  quiver- 
ed with  emotion.  "The  sea !"  he  gasped.  "Over  there, 
Serge !" 

Jalap  Coombs  caught  the  words,  aud  was  ou  his  feet  in 
an  instant,  all  his  paiu  forgotten  iu  a  desire  to  ouce  more 
catch  a  glimpse  of  his  beloved  salt  water. 

'•  Yes,"  replied  Serge,  after  a  loug  look.  "  It  certainly  is 
a  narrow  bay.  How  I  wish  we  knew  what  one !  But,  Phil ! 


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what  is  that,  down  there 
near  the  foot  of  the  elift's? 
Is  it — can  it  be — a  house  ?" 
"Where?"  cried  Phil. 
"Yes, I  see!  I  do  believe 
it  is!  Yes,  it  certainly  is  a 
house." 

CHAPTER     XXXVI. 

THE  MOST  FAMOUS  ALASKAN 
GLACIER. 

THAT  little  house  nest- 
ling at  tlie  base  of  a  pre- 
cipitous mountain,  and 
still  nearly  a  mile  away, 
was  just  then  a  more  fas- 
cinating sight  to  our  half- 
starved,  toil-worn  travel- 
lers than  even  the  sea  it- 
self, and  tilled  with  a  hope- 
ful excitement  they  has- 
tened toward  it.  It  was 
probably  a  salmon  cannery 
or  saltery,  or  a  trading- 
post.  At  any  rate  the  one 
house  they  had  discovered 
was  that  of  a  white  man  ; 
for  it  had  a  chimney,  and 
none  of  the  Tlingits  or 
natives  of  southern  Alaska 
build  chimneys. 

While    Phil    and    Jalap 
Coombs  were  full   of  con- 
fidence that  a  few  minutes 
more  would    find   them   in 
a  settlement  of  white  men, 
Serge  was  greatly  puzzled, 
and,  though  he  said  little, 
kept  up   a   deal  of  think- 
ing as   he  tugged  at   the 
rawhide  sledge-trace.      He 
felt  that  he  ought  to  know 
the  place,  for  he  did  not  be- 
lieve  they  were  one   hun- 
dred miles  from  Sitka;   but  he  could  not  remember  having 
heard  of  any  white  settlement  on  that  part  of  the  coast, 
except  at  the  Chilkat  cannery,  and  this  place  did  not  cor- 
respond in   any    particular  with   what    he   had  heard  of 
that. 

At  length  they  rounded  the  last  low  spur  of  the  ridge, 
and  came  upon  the  house  only  a  few  rods  away.  For  a  few 
moments  they  stood  motionless,  regarding  it  in  silence,  and 
•with  a  bitter  disappointment.  It  was  roughly  but  sub- 
stantially constructed  of  sawed  lumber,  had  a  shingled  roof, 
two  glass  windows,  a  heavy  door,  and  a  great  outside  chim- 
ney of  rough  stone.  But  it  was  closed  and  deserted.  No 
hospitable  smoke  curled  from  its  chimney,  there  was  no 
voice  of  welcome  nor  sign  of  human  presence.  Nor  was 
there  another  building  of  any  kind  in  sight. 

"  I  suppose  we  may  as  well  keep  on  and  examine  the  in- 
terior, now  that  we've  come  so  far,"  said  Phil,  in  a  disgusted 
tone  that  readily  betrayed  his  feelings.  "There  doesn't 
seem  to  be  any  one  around  to  prevent  us.  I  only  wish  there 
was." 

So  they  pushed  open  the  door,  which  was  fastened  but 
not  locked,  and  stepped  inside.  The  cabin  contained  but 
a  single  large  room  furnished  with  several  sleeping  bunks, 
a  stout  table,  and  a  number  of  seats,  all  home-made  from 
uuplaned  lumber.  Much  rubbish,  including  empty  bottles 
and  tin  cans,  was  scattered  about;  but  it  was  evident  that 
everything  of  value  liad  been  removed  by  the  last  occu- 
pants. The  chief  feature  of  the  room  was  an  immense  and 
rudely  artistic  fire-place  at  its  farther  end.  Above  this 
hung  a  smooth  board  skilfully  decorated  with  charcoal 
sketches,  and  bearing  the  legend  "  Camp  Muir." 

As  Serge  caught  sight  of  this  he  uttered  an  exclamation. 
"Now  I  know  where  we  are!"  he  cried.  "Come  with  me, 


SEKGE'S    METHOD    OF    LIGHTING    A    FIKE. 


Phil,  and  I  will  show  you  one  of  the  grand  sights  of  the 
world." 

With  this  he  dashed  out  of  the  door,  and  ran  toward  the 
beach  ridge  behind  which  the  cabin  stood.  Phil  followed, 
wondering  curiously  what  his  friend  could  mean.  As  they 
reached  the  low  crest  of  the  ridge  he  understood ;  for  out- 
spread before  him,  bathed  in  a  rosy  light  by  the  setting 
sun,  was  a  spectacle  that  tourists  travel  from  all  parts  of 
the  world  to  gaze  upon. 

A  precipitous  Hue  of  ice  cliffs  of  marble  whiteness  or 
heavenly  bine,  two  miles  long  and  hundreds  of  feet  in 
height,  carved  into  spires,  pinnacles,  minarets,  and  a  thou- 
sand other  fantastic  shapes,  rose  in  frozen  majesty  at  the 
head  of  a  little  bay  whose  waters  washed  the  beach  at  their 
feet.  Ere  either  of  the  boys  could  find  words  to  express 
his  delight  and  wonder,  a  huge  mass  of  the  lofty  wall 
broke  away  and  plunged  into  the  sea,  with  a  thunderous 
roar  that  echoed  and  re-echoed  from  the  enclosing  moun- 
tains. For  a  moment  it  disappeared  in  a  milky  cloud  of 
foaru  and  spray.  Then  it  shot  up  from  the  depths  like 
some  stupendous  submarine  monster,  and  with  torrents  of 
wati-r  streaming  from  it  in  glittering  cascades,  floated  ou 
the  heaving  surface  a  new-born  iceberg. 

"  It  must  be  a  glacier,"  said  Phil,  in  an  awe-stricken  tone. 

"It  is  a  glacier,"  answered  Serge,  triumphantly,  "and 
one  of  the  most  famous  in  the  world,  for  it  is  the  Mnu, 
which  is  larger  and  contains  more  ice  than  all  the  eleven 
hundred  glaciers  of  Switzerland  put  together.  That  cabin 
is  the  one  occupied  by  John  Muir  and  his  companions 
when  they  explored  it  in  isiln.  To  think  that  we  should 
have  come  down  one  of  its  branches,  and  even  crossed  the 
great  glacier  itself  without  knowing  what  it  was!  I  be- 
litjvc  we  would  have  known  it,  though,  it'  the  suow  hadn't 


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HARPER'S   EOUND   TABLE 


lieen   so  deep  ;is  to  alter    tin-   whole  character  of  its  sur- 
face  " 

'•  If  tliis  is  the  Muir  Glacier,"  reflected  Phil,  "I  don't  see 
lint  \vli:il  we  jiri1  in  a  liox.  We  must  be  to  tile  westward 
ofChilkat." 

''Yes,"  said  Serge.  "It  lies  to  the  eastward  of  those 
mountains." 

"Which  don't  look  as  though  they  would  he  very  easy 
•  •yen  for  us  to  climb,  while  I  know  we  couldn't  get  Jalap 
and  N'cl-te  over  them.  I  don't  suppose  any  tourist  steamers 
will  he  visiting  this  place  for  some  time,  either." 

"Not  for  two  months  at  least,"  replied  Srr.ni'. 

"  Which  is  longer  than  we  can  afford  to  wait  without 
provisions  or  supplies  of  auy  kind.  So  we  shall  have  to 
get  away,  somehow,  and  pretty  quickly  too.  It  doesn't 
look  as  though  we  could  follow  the  coast  any  further, 
though;  for  just  below  here  the  cliffs  seem  to  rise  sheer 
from  the  water." 

"No," said  Serge,  "  we  can't.  We  can  only  get  out  by 
boat  or  by  scaling  the  mountains." 

"  In  which  case  we  shall  starve  to  death  before  we  have 
a  chance  to  do  either,"  retorted  Phil,  gloomily,  "  for  we  are 
pretty  nearly  starved  now.  In  fact,  old  man,  it  looks  as 

tl gli   the  good  fortune  that  has  stood  by  us  during  the 

whole  of  this  journey  had  deserted  us  at  its  very  end." 

By  this  time  the  boys  had  strolled  back  to  the  cabin, 
which  was  left  by  the  setting  sun  in  a  dark  shadow.  As 
they  turned  its  corner  they  came  upon  Nel-te  standing  out- 
side clapping  his  chubby  hands,  and  gazing  upward  in  an 
ecstasy  of  delight.  Following  the  child's  glance  Phil 
uttered  a  startled  exclamation,  and  sprang  through  the 
doorway.  A  moment  later  he  emerged,  rifle  in  hand. 

High  up  on  a  shoulder  of  the  mountain,  hundreds  of  feet 
above  the  cabin,  sharply  ov'.lined  against  the  sky,  and 
bathed  in  the  full  glory  of  the  setting  sun,  a  mountain- 
goat,  with  immensely  thick  hair  of  snowy  white,  and  sharp 
black  horns,  stood  as  motionless  as  though  carved  from 
marble.  Blinded  by  the  sunlight,  and  believing  himself  to 
be  surrounded  by  a  solitude  nutenanted  by  enemies,  he 
saw  not  the  quietly  moving  figures  in  the  dim  shadows 
beneath  him. 

Twice  did  Phil  raise  his  rifle,  and  twice  did  he  lower  it, 
so  tremulous  was  he  with  excitement,  and  a  knowledge 
that  four  human  lives  depended  on  the  result  of  his  shot. 
The  third  time  he  took  a  quick  aim  and  tired.  As  tin  re 
port  echoed  sharply  from  the  beetling  cliffs,  the  stricken 
animal  gave  a  mighty  lea])  straight  out  into  space,  and 
ranie  whirling  downward  like  a  great  white  bird  with 
broken  wings.  He  struck  twice,  but  bounded  off  each  time, 
and  linally  lay  motionless,  buried  in  the  snow  at  the  very 
foot  of  the  mountain  that,  had  been  his  home. 

"  Seeing  as  how  we  hain't  got  no  fire  nor  no  matches  I 
reckon  we'll  eat  our  meat  raw  like  the  Huskies,"  said  Jalap 
Coombs,  dryly,  a  little  later,  as  they  began  to  skin  arid  cut 
up  the  goat. 

"Whew!"  ejaculated  Phil.  "I  never  thought  of  that, 
lint  I  know  how  to  make  a  tire  with  the  powder  from  a 
cartridge,  if  one  of  you  can  furnish  a  bit  of  cotton  cloth." 

"  It  seems  a.  pity  to  waste  a  cartridge,"  said  Serge,  "  when 
we  haven't  but  three  or  four  left,  and  a  single  one  has  just 
done  so  much  for  us.  I  think  I  can  get  fire  in  a  much  more 
economical  way.'' 

"How?" queried  Phil. 

"Ye  won't  lind  no  brimstone  nor  yet  feathers  here,"  sug- 
gested Jalap  Coombs,  with  a  shake  of  his  head. 

"Never  mind, "laughed  Serge;  "you  two  keep  on  cutting 
up  the  goat,  and  by  the  time  your  job  is  completed  I  think 
I  can  promise  that  mine  will  be."  So  sa\  ing, Serge  entered 
the  cabin  and  closed  the  door. 

In  a  pile  of  rubbish  he  had  noticed  several  small  pieces 
of  wood,  and  a  quantity  of  very  dry  botanical  specimens, 
some  of  which  bore  fluffy  seed-vessels  that  could  be  used 
as  tinder.  He  selected  a  bit  of  soft  pine,  and  worked  a 
hole  in  it  with  the  point  of  his  knife.  Next  he  whittled 
out  a  thick  pencil  of  the  hardest  wood  he  could  find,  sharp- 
ened one  end  and  rounded  the  other.  In  a  block  of  hard 
wood  he  dug  a  cavity,  into  which  the  rounded  top  of  the 
pencil  would  tit.  He  fouuu  a  section  'of  barrel  hoop,  and 


strung  it  very  loosely  with  a  length  of  rawhide  from  a  dog 
harness,  so  as  to  make,  a  small  IPOW.  Finally  he  took  a 
turn  of  the  bow-string  about  the  pencil,  fitted  the  point 
into  the  soft  pine  that  rested  on  tin-  floor,  and  the  other 
end  into  the  hard  wood  block  on  which  lie  leaned  his 
breast. 

With  one  hand  he  now  drew  the  bow  swiftly  to  and  fro. 
causing  the  pencil  to  revolve  with  great  rapidity,  and  with 
the  other  he  held  a  small  quantity  of  tinder  close  to  its 
point  of  contact  with  the  soft  pine.  The  rapid  movement 
of  the  pencil  produced  a  few  grains  of  line  sawdust,  and 
this  shortly  began  to  smoke  with  the  heat  of  the  friction. 
In  less  than  one  minute  the  sawdust  and  tinder  were  in  a. 
glow  that  a  breath  fanned  into  a  Hame,  and  there  was  no 
longer  any  doubt  about  a  fire.* 

That,  evening,  as  our  friends  sat  contentedly  in  front  of  a 
cheerful  blaze,  after  a  more  satisfactory  meal  than  thry  had 
enjoyed  for  many  a  day,  Jalap  Coombs  remarked  that  he 
only  wanted  one  more  thing  to  make  him  perfectly  happy. 

"  Same  here,"  said  Phil.      "  What's  your  want  ?" 

"A  pipeful  of  tobacco,"  replied  the  sailor,  whose  whole 
smoking  outfit  had  been  lost  with  his  sledge. 

"  All  I  want,"  laughed  Phil,  "  is  to  know  how  and  when 
we  are  to  get  out  of  this  trap  and  continue  our  journey  to 
Sitka.  I  hate  the  thought  of  spending  a  couple  of  months 
here,  even  if  there  are  plenty  of  goats." 

"I  can't  think  of  anything  else  we  can  do," said  Serge, 
thoughtfully. 

And  yet  those  who  were  to  rescue  them  from  their  per- 
plexing situation  were  within  five  miles  of  them  at  that 
very  moment. 

[TO    BE    COXTINfKD.] 


OAKLEIGH. 

BY     ELLEN     DOUGLAS     D  E  L  A  N  D. 

CHAPTE  R     II. 

THEY  were  all  in  the  "long  parlor"  after  tea.  It  was 
a  beautiful  room,  extending  the  length  of  the  house, 
and  it  was  large  enough  to  contain  four  windows  and  two 
fire-places.  The  paper  on  the  walls  was  old-fashioned — in- 
deed, it  had  been  there  when  the  children's  grandmother 
was  a  girl,  and  the  furniture  was  of  equally  early  date. 

It  was  all  handsome,  but  shabby-looking.  A  few  dollars 
wisely  spent  would  have  made  a  vast  difference  in  its  ap- 
pearance; but,  unfortunately,  there  were  never  any  dollars 
to  spare. 

Jack  had  resumed  the  argument.      "  Nonsense,  nonsense, 
Jack!"  said  Mr.  Franklin.      '-It  is    absurd    for  a  boy  like 
you  to  ask  me  for  so  much  money.     Incubators  are  of  no. 
good,  anyhow.      Give  me  a  good  old-fashioned  hen." 

"Perhaps,  papa, "said  Cynthia,  demurely,  "Jack  will  give 
you  a  good  old-fashioned  hen  if  you  let  him  buy  an  incuba- 
tor to  raise  her  with." 

Mr.  Franklin  laughed.     Then  lie  grew  very  grave  again. 

"There's  no  doubt  about  my  making  something  of  it," 
persisted  Jack.  "I  itixli  \nu  would  let  me  try, father!  I'll 
pay  back  whatever  you  lend  me.  Indeed  I  will.  It's  only 
forty  dollars  for  the  machine." 

Mr.  Franklin  was  very  determined.  He  could  seldom  be 
induced  to  change  his  mind,  and  his  prejudices  were  \  erv 
strong.  Jack's  face  fell.  It  was  of  no  use;  he  would  have 
to  give  it  up. 

Presently  Aunt  Betsey  spoke.  She  had  been  an  atten- 
tive listener  to  the  conversation,  and  now  she  settled  her- 
self anew  in  her  rocking-chair,  and  folded  her  hands  in  the 
way  she  always  did  when  she  had  something  of  especial 
importance  to  say. 

"How  much  money  do  you  need.  Jackie  ?  Forty  dollars, 
did  you  say  ?" 

'  Forty  for  the  incubator."  said  Jack,  rather  shortly.  He 
felt  like  crying,  though  he  «•«»  a  boy,  and  he  wished  Aunt 
Betsey  would  not  question  him. 

*  This  is  the  Eskimo  method;  and  I  have  seen  a  Norton  Sound  Eskimo 
woman  obtain  fire  by  this  simple  means  inside  o£  ten  seconds.— K  M. 


oTO 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"Anil  then  yon  must  buy  the  eggs,"  put  in  Cynthia. 

•'  And  what  do  the  chicks  live  in  after  they  come  out?" 
asked  Miss  Trinkett,  who  knew  something  about  fanning, 
and  with  all  her  eccentricities  was  very  practical. 

"  They  live  in  brooders,"  said  Jack,  warming  to  his  he- 
loved  subject.  "If  I  could  buy  one  brooder  for  a  pattern 
I  could  make  others  like  it.  I'd  have  to  fence  off  places  fur 
the  chicks  to  run  in,  and  that  would  take  a  little  money. 
I  suppose  I'll  have  to  have  fifty-five  or  sixty  dollars  to  start 
nicely  with  anil  have  things  in  good  shape." 

"Nephew  Johu,"saiil  Miss  Betsey,  solemnly,  turning  to 
Mr.  Franklin,  "I  don't  wish  to  interfere  between  parent 
and  child,  it's  not  my  way  ;  but  if  you  have  no  other  ob- 
jections to  Jackie's  hen-making  machine — I  forget  its  out- 
landish name — I  am  willing,  in  fact  I'd  be  very  pleased,  to 
adrance  him  the  money.  What  do  you  say  to  it?" 

Jack  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  Cynthia  enthusiastically 
threw  her  arms  about  Aunt  Betsey's  neck. 

"You  dear  thing!"  she  whispered.  "And  yon  look  sweet 
in  your  new  hair."  Upon  which  Miss  Trinkett  smiled  com- 
placently. 

Mr.  Franklin  expostulated  at  first,  but  he  was  finally  per- 
suaded to  give  his  consent.  So  it  was  finally  settled. 

"I  will  leml  you  seventy-five  dollars,"  said  Miss  Trin- 
kett. "You  maybe  obliged  to  pay  more  than  you  think, 
and  it's  well  to  have  a  little  on  hand  in  case  of  emergencies." 

The  next  day  Miss  Trinkett  took  an  affectionate  farewell 
from  her  nieces  and  nephews,  promising  to  send  Jack  the 
money  by  an  early  date. 

"And  a  book  on  raising  poultry  that  my  father  used  ti> 
cousult,"  she  added;  "I  always  keep  it  on  the  table  in  the 
best  parlor.  I'll  send  it  by  mail.  It's  wonderful  what 
things  can  go  through  the  post-office  nowadays.  These  are 
times  to  live  in,  I  do  declare,  what  with  chicks  without  a 
mother  and  everything  else." 

Aunt  Betsey  was  true  to  her  word.  During  the  follow- 
ing week  a  package  arrived  most  lightly  tied  up,  and  ad- 
dressed in  an  old-fashioned,  indefinite  hand  to  "Jackie 
Franklin,  Brenton,  Mass."  Within  was  an  ancient  book 
which  described  the  methods  of  raising  poultry  in  the  early 
days  of  the  century,  and  inside  of  the  book  were  seventy- 
five  dollars  in  crisp  new  bank-notes. 

It  was  a  week  or  two  after  the  installation  of  the.  incu- 
bator that  Edith  was  seized  with  what  Cynthia  called  "one 
of  her  terribly  tidy  fits." 

"I  am  going  to  do  some  Louse-clean  ing,"  she  announced 
one  beautiful  Saturday  morning,  when  Cynthia  was  hurry- 
ing through  her  Monday's  lessons  in  a  wild  desire  to  get  to 
the  river.  "Cynthia, you  must  help  me.  We'll  clear  out 
all  the  drawers  and  closets  in  the  '  north  room,' and  give 
away  everything  we  don't  need,  and  then  have  Martha 
clean  the  room." 

"Oh  no!" exclaimed  Cynthia  ;  '-everything  in  this  house 
is  as  neat  as  a  pin.  And  we  haven't  got  anything  we  don't 
need,  Kdith.  And  I  can't.  I  niiixt  go  on  the  river.'7 

"You  can  go  afterwards.  You  can  spend  all  the  after- 
noon on  the  river.  This  is  a  splendid  chance  for  house- 
cleaning,  with  the  children  otf  for  the  morning.  Come 
along,  Cynthia  —  there's  a  dear." 

Cynthia  slowly  anil  mournfully  followed  Edith  up  the 
stairs.  She  might  have  held  out  and  gone  on  the  river, 
but  she  knew  Edith  would  do  it  alone  if  she  deserted  her, 
and  Cynthia  was  unselfish,  much  as  she  detested  house- 
cleaning. 

"I  am  going  to  be  very  particular  to-day,"  said  Edith,  as 
she  wiped  the  ornaments  of  the  room  with  her  dusting-cloth 
and  laid  them  on  the  bed  to  be  covered,  and  took  down  some 
of  the  pictures. 

"More  particular  than  usual?" 

"  Yes,  ever  so  much.  I've  been  thinking  about  it  a  great 
deal.  In  all  probability  I  shall  always  keep  house  for  papa, 
and  I  mean  to  lie  the  very  best  kind  of  a  house-keeper.  I 
am  going  to  make  a  study  of  it.  The  house  shall  always  be 
as  neat  as  it  can  possibly  be,  and  the  meals  shall  be  per- 
fect. Then  another  thing,"  pursued  Kdith,  from  the  closel 
where  she,  was  lifting  down  boxes  and  pulling  out  drawers. 
"I  am  going  to  be  lovely  with  the  children.  They  are  to 
be  taught  to  obey  me  implicitly,  the  very  minute  I  speak. 


I  am  going  to  train  them  that  way.  I  shall  say  one  word, 
very  gently,  and  that  will  be  enough.  I  have  been  reading 
a  book  oil  that  very  subject.  The  eldest  sister  made  up 
her  mind  to  do  that,  and  it  worked  splendidly." 

"I  hope  it  will  this  time,  hut  things  arc  so  much  easier 
in  a  book  than  out  of  it.  Perhaps  the  children  were  not 
just  like  our  Janet  and  Willy." 

"They  were  a  great,  deal  worse.  Our  children  are  per- 
fect angels  compared  to  them." 

"Here  they  come  now,  speaking  of  angels,"  announced 
Cynthia,  as  the  tramp  of  small  but  determined  feet  was 
heard  on  the  stairs  and  the  door  burst  open. 

"Dear  me,  you  don't  mean  to  say  you  are  back  !"  ex- 
claimed Edith.  ''I  thought  you  were  going  to  play  out-of- 
doors  all  the  morning-" 

"We're  tired  of  it,  and  we're  terrible  hungry.'' 

"An"  we  want  sumpun  to  do." 

"If  this  isn't  the  most  provoking  thing  !"  cried  Edith, 
wrathfnlly, emerging  from  the  closet.  "  I  thought  yon  were 
well  out  of  the  way,  and  here  I  am  in  the  midst  of  house- 
cleaning!  You  are  the  most  provoking  children — don't 
touch  that !'' 

For  Janet  had  seized  upon  a  box  and  was  investigating 
its  contents. 

"Go  straight  out  of  this  room,  and  don't  come  near  me 
till  it  is  done." 

"  We  won't  go!"  they  roared  in  chorus;  "  we're  going  to 
stay  and  have  sr.nie  fun." 

Edith  walked  tip  to  them  with  determination  written  on 
her  face,  and  grasped  each  child  tightly  by  the  hand.  The 
roars  increased,  and  Cynthia  concluded  that  it  was  about 
time  to  interfere. 

"  Come  down-stairs  with  me,"  she  said,  "  and  I'll  give  you 
some  nice  crackers.  And  very  soon  one  of  the  men  is  going 
over  to  Pelhani  to  take  the  farm-horses  to  be  shod.  Who 
would  like  to  go?" 

This  idea  \\  as  sei/.ed  upon  with  avidity.  The  three  de- 
parted in  search  of  the  crackers,  and  quiet  reigned  once 
more.  When  Cynthia  came  back  Edith  said  nothing  for 
a  few  minutes.  Then  she  remarked  : 

"Those  children  in  the  book  were  \\otquitr  as  provoking 
as  ours,  but  I  suppose  I  ought  to  have  begun  right  away  to 
be  gentle.  Somehow,  Cynthia,  you  always  seem  to  know 
just  what  to  say  to  everybody.  I  ii'inlt  1  did!  Janet  and 
Willy  both  mind  you  a  great  deal  better  than  they  do  me." 

She  was  interrupted  by  a  shout  of  joy  from  Cynthia. 

"Edith,  Edith,  do  look  at  this!  Aunt  Betsey's  extra  false 
front!  She  left  it  behind.  Don't  you  know  she  told  me 
to  put  it  away  ?  It's  a  wonder  she  hasn't  sent  for  it.  There, 
look!" 

Edith  turned  with  a  brush  in  one  hand  and  a  dust-pan 
in  tlu  other,  which  dropped  with  a  clatter  when  she  saw 
her  sister. 

Cynthia  had  drawn  back  her  own  curly  bang, and  fast- 
ened on  the  smooth  brown  hair  of  her  great-aunt.  The 
puffs  adorned  either  side  of  her  rosy  face,  a-nd  she  was  for 
all  the  world  exactly  like  Miss  Betsey  Trinkett,  whose  eyes 
were  as  blue  and  nose  as  straight  as  those  of  fourteen-year- 
old  Cynthia,  who  was  always  said  to  greatly  resemble  her. 

"You're  the  very  image  of  her,"  laughed  Edith.  ••  Xo 
one  would  ever  know  you  apart,  if  yon  had  on  a  bonnet  and 
shawl  like  hers." 

"  Edith,"  exclaimed  Cynthia,"!  have  an  idea!  I'm  go- 
ing to  dress  up  and  make  Jack  think  Aunt  Betsey  has 
come  back.  He'll  never  know  me  in  the  world,  and  it  will 
be  such  fun  to  get  a  rise  out  of  him." 

Cynthia's  enthusiasm  was  contagions,  and  Edith,  leaving 
bureau  drawers  standing  open  and  boxes  uncovered,  hur- 
ried off  to  find  the  desired  articles. 

Cynthia  was  soon  dressed  in  exact  reproduction  of  Aunt 
I!etse\'s  usual  costume,  with  a  figured  black-lace  veil  over 
her  face,  and,  as  luck  would  have  it,  Jack  was  at  that  mo- 
ment seen  coming  up  the  drive.  She  hastily  descended  to 
the  parlor,  where  she  and  Edith  were  discovered  in  conver- 
sation when  Jack  entered  the  house. 

"Holloa,  Aunt  Betsey!"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  kissed  her 
unsuspectingly.  "  Have  you  conic-  hack?" 

"Yes,  Jackie,"  said  a  prim  New  England  voice   with  a 


671 


MISS    TRINKET!'    TOOK    AN    AFFECTIONATE    FAREWELL    THE    NEXT    DAY. 


slightly  provincial  accent.  "I  thought  I'd  like  to  heal- 
about  those  little  orphan  chicks,  ami  .so  I  said  to  Silas,  said 
I,  Silas- 
Edith  darted  from  her  chair  to  a  distant  window,  arid 
Cynthia  was  obliged  to  break  oft'  abruptly,  or  she  would 
have  laughed  aloud.  Jack,  however,  took  no  notice.  The 
mention  of  the  chickens  was  enough  for  him. 

"Don't  you  want  to  conie  down  and  see  the  machine? 
I  .say.  Aunt  Betsey,  you  were  a  regular  brick  to  send  me 
the  money.  Did  you  get  my  letter  .'" 

"  Yes,  Jackie,  and  I  hope  yon  are  reading  the  book  care- 
fully. You  will  learn  a  great  deal  from  it  about  hens." 

'•Yes.  Well, I  haven't  got  any  hens  yet.  Look  out.  for 
these  stairs,  Aunt  Betsey.  They're  rather  dangerous." 

This  was  too  much  for  Cynthia.  To  be  warned  alM.nl 
the  cellar  stairs,  over  which  she  gayly  tripped  at  least  a 
dozen  times  a  day,  was  the  crowning  joke  of  the  per- 
formance. She  sat  dowu  on  the  lowest  step  and  shouted 
with  laughter.  Jack,  who  was  studying  his  thermometer, 
turned  in  surprise. 

It  was  too  good.  Cynthia  tossed  up  her  veil,  and  turned 
hrr  crimson  face  to  her  brother. 

"Oh,  Jack,  Jack,  I  have  you  this  time!  Oh.  oh,  oh!  I 
nc  ver  dreamt-d  you  would  be  so  taken  iu !"  And  she  danced 
up  and  down  with  glee. 

Jack's  first  feeling  was  one  of  anger.  How  stupid  hr 
had  been  !  Then  his  sense  of  the  ludicrous  overcame  him, 
and  he  joined  iu  the  mirth,  laughing  until  the  tears  rolled 
down  his  face. 

"  It's  too  good  to  be  wasted,"  he  said,  as  soon  as  he  could 
speak.  "Why  don't  you  go  and  see  somebody?  Go  to 
those  dear  friends  of  Aunt  Betsey's,  the  Parkers." 

"I  will,  I  will!"  cried  Cynthia.  "I'll  go  right  away 
uow.  Jack,  you  cau  drive  me  there." 

"  Oh  uo!"  exclaimed  Edith.  "They  would  be.  sure  to 
find  you  out,  aud  it  would  be  all  over  town.  You  sha'u't 
do  it,' Cynthia." 

"  They'll  never  find  me  out.     If  Jack,  my  own  twin  bro- 


ther, didn't,  I'm  sure  they  wouldn't.  I'm  going!  Hurry 
up.  Jack,  and  harness  the  horse." 

.lack  went  up  the  stairs  like  lightning,  and  was  oft'  to  the 
barn.  All  Edith's  pleadings  and  expostulations  were  iu 
vain.  Cynthia  could  be  very  determined  when  she  pleased, 
and  this  time  she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  pay  uo  atten- 
tion to  the  too-cautious  Edith. 

She  waved  farewell  to  her  sister  iu  exact  imitatiou  of 
Aunt  Betsey's  gesture,  and  drove  away  by  Jack's  side  in 
the  old  buggy. 

They  drew  up  at  the  Parkers'  door,  and  Jack  polite- 
ly assisted  "  Aunt  Betsey  "  from  the  carriage.  He  ran  up 
the  steps  and  rang  the  bell  for  her,  aud  then,  taking  his 
place  again  iu  the  buggy,  he  drove  oft'  to  a  shady  spot,  and 
waited  for  his  supposed  aunt  to  reappear. 

"  Don't  be  too  long,"  he  had  whispered  at  partiug. 

It  seemed  hours,  but  it  was  really  only  twenty  minutes 
later,  when  the  frout  door  opened,  and  the  quaint  little 
figure  descended  the  steps  amid  voluhle  good-byes. 

"So  glad  to  have  seen  you,  my  dear  Miss  Trinkett!  I 
never  saw  you  looking  so  well  or  so  young.  You  are  a 
marvel.  And  you  won't  repeat  that  little  piece  of  news  I 
told  you,  will  you?  You  will  probably  hear  it  all  iu  good 
time.  Good-by!" 

It  was  a  very  quiet  aud  depressed  Aunt  Betsey  who  got 
into  the  carriage  and  drove  away  with  Jack,  very  differ- 
ent from  the  gay  little  lady  who  had  entered  the  Parkers' 
gates. 

"  Well,  was  it  a  success  ?  Did  she  know  you?  Tell  us 
about  it,"  said  Jack,  eagerly. 

"  Jack,  don't  ask  me  a  word." 

"Why?  I  say,  what's  up?  What's  the  matter  ?  Did 
she  liud  you  out?" 

"No,  of  course  not.  She  never  guessed  it.  But — but — 
oh,  Jack,  she  told  me  something." 

••  lint  what  was  it?" 

"I — I  dou't  believe  I  cau  tell  you!" 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


672 


THE     KNAv'E     OF     HEARTS 


a 


JMav?    in    ©ne    act. 


BY. ALBERT     LEE. 
CHARACTERS: 


QUEEN  OF  CLUBS.      QUEEN  op  SPADES.       KING  OF  SPADES.       JOKER 
QUEEN  OF  HEARTS.    QCEEN  OF  DIAMONDS.  KING  OF  DIAMONDS. 


KING  OF  HEARTS. 
KING  OF  CLUBS. 


KNAVE  OF  HEARTS.    KNAVE  OF  DIAMONDS. 
KNAVE  OF  SPADES.     KNAVE  OF  CLDBS. 


SCENE. — Audience -chamber  in  the  palace  of  the  King  of 
Hearts.  The  thrones  of  the  King  and  Queen  in  the  centre 
of  the  stage  at  back.  Xear  the  Kind's  throne  a  sma/l  gilded 
three-legged  stool.  Entrances  R.  ««rf  L.  Three  arm-chairs 
R.  A  bench  L.  At  the  rising  of  the  curtain  the  Joker  is 
discorered  seated  on  the  King's  throne,  leaning  on  one  elboie, 
Ms  rattle  hanging  idly  in  the  other  hand.  He  is  apparently 
meditating.  He  speaks  slowly,  with  a  pause  between  each 
sentence. 

Joker.  Peradveuture  it  may  seem  improper  for  a  fool  to 
leave  his  lowly  place  and  climb  upon  the  throne.  But  no 
one's  here  to  say  me  nay;  ami  by  my  faith  fools  have  sat 
on  thrones  before.  What  odds,  then,  if  there's  one  fool 
more  or  one  fool  less  beneath  the  dais?  To  be  sure,  my 
crown's  a  fool's  cap  and  my  sceptre's  a  rattle,  and  so,  per- 
haps, not  imposing ;  but  it  pleases  me  to  sit  here  and  fancy 
myself  a  King.  Nay,  laugh  not.  It's  the  province  of  a  fool 
to  bo  foolish.  And  verily  am  I  not  a  king?  Am  I  not 
monarch  of  all  I  survey  ?  lu  truth  I  am,  for  I  survey  no- 
thing, and  am  therefore  King  of  Nothing.  There's  a  title 
for  you — his  Majesty  the  King  of  Nothing!  (Yawns  and 
xtrclclicx  anil  rixesfrom  the  throne;  picks  up  his  stool,  places 
it  ni'iir  the  front,  and  sits  dote  it.)  In  faith  the  throne's  no 
softer  than  the  stool,  and  perhaps  it  is  best  for  me  to  cling 
to  this.  It  affords  at'  least  one  advantage  over  the  King. 
If  he  falls — and  I  fall — he  gets  the  greater  injury,  for  h" 
tumbles  from  a  higher  place.  (Laughs  softly,  and  then 
sings  :) 

"  For  it's  nonny,  hey  nonny,  tiie  Jester's  song, 

It's  nonny,  hey  nonny,  hey  oh  ! 
For  it's  nonny,  hey  nonny,  no  life  is  long; 
Oh,  merry  be  ye  here  below !" 

[Js  he  sings  the  last  line  there  is  a  loud  noise  of  exploding 
fire-crackers  behind  the  scenes, and  the  four  Knaves  come 
tiiiiih/ini/  in  nt  the  door  L.  in  great  confusion,  all  talk- 
ing at  once.      The  Knave  of  Hearts  holds  a  lighted  ta- 
per in  his  hand,  and  the  other  Knaves  carry  fire-crackers 
and  other  fireworks  under  their  arms. 
Kuare  of  Spades.  Thou  ilidst  it. 
Jut  are  of  Hearts.  Thou  speakest  false.     'Twas  he. 
Knave  of  Diamonds.  Never.     Hearts  did  it. 
Enare  of  Clubs.  Hearts  held  the  taper.     He  did  it.     Thou 
didst  it. 

Knare  of  Spades.  Ay,  ,ay,  'twas  he. 
Knave  of  Hearts.  I  say  tliee  nay. 
Enare  of  Diamonds.  He  gives  him  the  lie  direct. 
A  n  a  re  of  Clubs.  I  saw  him.     I  saw  him. 
Joker  (rising,  shakes  the  stool  in  one  hand,  tin    rattle  in   the 
other,  and    shouts).    Silence!    silence,   ye    riotous    varlets ! 
What  is  this  now?     What  is  it?     Why  all  this  uoise  and 
debate  ? 

Knare.  of  Hearts.  Nay,  Sir  Joker,  but  it  was  the  Knave 
of  Spades. 

Knarc  of  Spailes.  Thou  speakest  false. 
Knare  of  Diamonds  and  Knare  of  Clubs.  Ay,  ay,  Hearts 
held  the  taper. 

[The  Kuave  of  Hearts  quickly  blows  out  the  taper  and 


throws  it  away.  The  Knaves  all  begin  to  talk  to  the 
Joker  at,  once.  He  stops  liix  enrx  and  shouts. 

Joker.  Silence,  I  beg  of  ye !     Silence !     What  is  it,  I  say  ? 

The  four  Knares  (speaking  all  together).  Good  Sir  Joker, 
let  me  explain. 

Joker.  One  at  a  time,  I  pray  of  ye!  Now  speak  thon, 
Spades.  What  is  this  alarum?  Whither  go  ye?  And 
what  bear  ye?  And  bearing  what,  whither  do  you  hear 
it? 

Knare  of  Spades.  Good  Sir  Joker,  if  yon  would  ask  but 
one  question,  and  that  direct,  making  it  simple  too,  it  were 
the  easier  to  give  a  reply. 

Joker  (sitting  down  again).  Troth,  for  a  fat  Knave  thou 
speakest  plainly.  'Tis  to  be  hoped  thou  canst  hear  as  well. 
Now  listen.  Whither  go  ye  ? 

Knave  of  Spades.  To  the  banquet  hall. 

Joker.  And  what  bear  ye? 

Knare  of  Spades.  Fireworks. 

Joker.  Fireworks? 

K  n  a  re  of  Spades.  Indeed,  fireworks. 

Knare  of  Hearts  (poking  a  targe  fire- cracker  into  the 
Joker's  face).  Art  blind?  Canst  not  see? 

Joker  (much  alarmed).  Away  there,  varlet,  away  ! 

Knare  of  Spades.  Ay,  fireworks,  Sir  Joker,  for  to-day  'tis 
the  glorious  Fourth. 

Joker.  To-day  the  Fourth  of  July? 

Knare  of  Diamonds  (to  /lit-  other  Knaves  in  a  muckiity 
tone).  He  was  well  named  "  Fool." 


••I1EAKTS    DID    IT!" 


073 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


'ART    BUND?     (JANST    NOT    SEE  ?" 


Knurr  of  Clubs.  In  truth  lie  was;  yet  no  name  was  neces- 
sary. 'Tis  plain  writ  upon  liis  face. 

[  Tin'  Knaves  laugh  londln. 

Joker.  Marry,  for  a  pack  of  rowdy  varlets  ye  four  do  ver- 
ily liolil  first  claim,  although  yon  rotiintl  Knave  of  Similes 
dulli  possibly  deserve  exemption.  I  prithee,  Spades,  why- 
foreall  this  preparation?  Why  these  fireworks?  And  why 
so  many  large  red  tire-craekers? 

Snare  of  Spades.  Have  yon  not  heard  of  the  King's 
banquet? 

Kiiare  til'  Hearts  (tilting  diiirii  nil  tin  bench  mill  slinking  his 
Innil  in  mill/).  Nay,  Spades,  ask  him  not.  He  has  the  ass's 
ears,  but  hears  naught. 

Knurr  (if  Iliamonds.  Or  hearing,  understands  naught. 

•In/in-,  By  my  halidame  an  ye  ruffians  liridlc  not  your 
tongues,  I  will  even  on  this  torrid  night  fall  to  and  smite 
ye  till  ye  whine  like  hounds  for  mercy! 

[Threatens  tlinn  irilli  liin  rattle. 

Tlirfinir  Knares.  Oh,bnt  that  is  .a  fierce  threat! 
[They  noil  their  heads  li>  inn-  another  in  mock  seriousness, 
mill  jioint  nt  tiir  Joker  irilli  tin  liig  fin --crackei -s. 

Joker.  And  now,  Spades — ? 

linnri  of  Xpades.  Ay,  Sir  Joker,  to-night  the  King  and 
Queen  of  Hearts  do  hold  a  sumptuous  feast,  and  afterward 
there  are  to  be  fireworks  galore.  To  the  banquet  have 
been  invited  the  King  and  Queen  of  .Spades,  the  King  and 
Queen  of  Diamonds,  and  the  King  and  Queen  of  Clubs. 

Joker.  A  right  royal  company,  Spades. 

Kniire  of  Npodes.  Indeed  right  royal.  And  the  feast  too 
shall  be  right  royal.  My  liege  the  King  of  Spades  brings 
with  him  his  tiddlers  three. 

Joker.  So,  so!      Ha,  ha!  [Kings. 

"Old  King  Kole 

Was  a  merry  old  soul, 
A  merry  old  soul  was  he; 

He  culled   for  his  pipe, 

He  called  for  his  bowl, 
And  he  called  for  liis  fiddlers  three." 

Kinire  nf  Hearts.  Nay.  but  methinks  the  Joker  hath  his 
rhyming  mood  to-day.  Sit  thee  down,  Diamonds,  a,nd  be  a 
comfortable  listener. 

[The  Knave  of  Diamonds  nils  i/oirn   on   the  liein-h  bexiile 
lln  Knave  of  Hearts. 

.laker.  It  is  meet  that  I  should  have  my  rhyming  mood 
to-day;  for  at  the  feast  will  there,  not  be  mirth  and  rhyme 
and  wit  ? 

Kiinre  of  llenr/H.  Ay,  mirth  and  doggerel,  Joker;  but 
what  wit  there  may  be  thon'lt  not  answer  for 't. 

Joker  (rising  mill  shaking  his  ./is').  I  can  answer  for  thee, 
though,  thou  churl! 

linare  nf  Hearts  (bowing).  Grarnercy,  but  I  can  answer 
for  m\  self. 

Joker.  And 'twill  not  be  the  first  time.     Methiuks,  as  a 


thief  thou  hast  already  been  called  upon  to  answer  once. 
(Hits  ilou'ii,  ayain.)    And  now,  Spades,  I  beg  of  thee,  proeceil. 

Knnri'  of  Spades.  There  is  little  more  to  tell,  Sir  Joker, 
save  that  the  Queen  of  Hearts  herself  did  fashion  these 
larg"'  lire  crackers — eight  of  them,  that  there  should  be.  one 
for  a  salute  to  each  guest.  We  bear  them  now  to  the  ban- 
quet hall. 

Jinn  re  of  IHanionds.  Ay,  and  the  quicker  we  go  hence  the. 
•wiser;  for  time  moves  on  apace,  and  the  guests  will  soon  be 
Lere. 

Joker  (rising  from  hi.i  stool  and  milking  n  inoek  obeisance). 
My  gratitude,  gentle  Knaves,  for  your  varied  courtesies. 
(  Tin  Knaves  bull'  anil  cjrennt,  K.,  in  single  file.  Joker  puts  his 
stool  back  in  HH  place  beside  the  throne.)  Of  two  misfortunes, 
rather  let  me  sutler  that  of  being  a  fool  than  a  knave.  The 
one  knows  nothing  of  the  evil  he  does;  the  other  knows 
nothing  of  the  evil  he  does  not  do.  And  methinks  whether 
of  evil  or  of  good  those  Knaves  know  but  little  of  what  they 
now  perform.  They  bear  those  explosive  bombs  to  the 
banquet  hall  ?  Surely  they  err.  But  of  my  affair  it  is 
none,  and  so  I  shall  sagely  hold  my  peace  upon  it,  and — tap 
my  wit!  For  here  come  the  King  and  Queen. 

[Music.  Enter  the  King  and  Queen  of  Hearts,  L.,  the 
Joker  bowing  anil  dancing  before  them  as  they  come. 
They  lake  their  seats  upon  the  thrones. 

Eing  of  I/earls.  Well,  Sir  Joker,  what  was  this  riot  that 
I  lately  heard?  What  this  odor  of  powder  and  salt- 
In  •  1 1 1  •  ' 

Joker.  The  Knaves,  my  lord,  the  Knaves,  the  sorry  Knaves. 
They  did  but  even  pass  this  way  toward  the  banquet,  hall, 
bearing  fireworks.  (>S//«  iloirn  in  one  of  the  arm-chairs,  and 
jiii/i/lcs  iritli  liis  rntt/e.)  They  did  by  mischance  set  of)'  sev- 
eral of  the  pieces,  and  wellnigh  seared  me  of  the  possession 
of  my  wits. 

Kimj  of  Hearts  (laughing).  Yet  thon  hast  thy  fool's  cap 
still  well  on,  I  hope? 

Joker.  That  I  have,  sire.  So  well  on  that,  even  should 
you  wish  to  borrow  it,  you  could  not  get  it  off. 

King  of  Urartu.  Thon  needst  have  no  fear  that  I  shall 
care  to  deprive  thee  of  that  honor. 

Joker.  Nay,  but  Kings  have  played  the  fool  before. 

J\ing  of  Hearts.  True.  And  thou  mayst  well  add  — many 
a  fool  has  played  the  King. 

.laker.  But  do  not  accuse  me,  sire.  I  never  played  you. 
I  do  but  play  upon  you. 

Jfiny  of  I/carts.  Thou  playest  upon  me? 

Joker.  Only  to  hear  your  sweet  notes,  my  liege 

(fiieen  of  Hearts.  Thou  hast  a  well-turned  speech  to-day, 
Joker. 

Joker.  Well  turned,  my  Queen  ?  Yet  not  so  well  turned 
as  those  giant  lire-crackers  which  you  have  fashioned  for 
the  feast.  Those  indeed  are  royal  liombs! 

itiiiein  of  Hi  art",  liombs  V  They  are  indeed  harmless. 
There  is  nothing  in  them,  but  I  warned  the  Knaves  to  han- 


'  WE    DID    HASTEN    BEYOND    ALL    REASON!" 


674 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Me,  them   carefully,  saying  they  might  unexpectedly  ex- 
plode. [Lani/lis. 
Joker.  And  so,  if  they  exploded, 'twould  iu  truth  be  un- 
expected ! 

[Js  the  Joker  finishes  this  xjieech, enter  Knave  of  Dia- 
monds, L.  Hi  holds  tin  portieres  H/I  ini/l  a  ll  lion  HI-IS 
in  luiiil  tiutl  t'oriniil  tniics, 

Knare  i if  Diamonds.  Their  Majesties  the  King  and  Queen 
of  Diamonds. 

Music.      Enter  tin-  King  and  Queen  of  Diamonds,  L. 
Ki»n  nf  Hearts.  Welcome,  my  cousin  of  Diamonds.   Wel- 
come this  glorious  July  day. 

ijnecn  nf  Hearts.  Welcome,  fair  lady.  "  First  come,  best 
lnved,"  is  the  sayiug,  you  know — and  ye  are  the  first  come. 
Pray  bo  seated. 

[.//  tin1  entrance  of  tin  King  and  Queen  of  Diamonds  the 
King  anfl  Queen  of  Hearts  rise  to  greet  them.  Tlif 
King  of  Diamonds  hoirx  to  t/ie  King  of  Hearts  anil 
kisses  tin-  lianil  nf  the  Queen  of  Hearts.  The  Queen 
of  Diamonds  courtesies.  Site  then  sits  down  in  <ui  ann- 
eliaii-,  H.,<nnl  the  King  of  Diamonds  /akin  his  sland 
Mi  i  ad  Jier.  Tlie  Knave  of  Diamonds  drops  the  por- 
tiere anil  sils  mi  Hie  bench. 

•Inler  (to  Queen  of  Diamonds).  Even  tin'  sun,  fair  lady — 
which  is  said  by  the  poets  to  shine  brightest  this  fair  mouth 
of  .Inly — even   the    sun  fails 
to  outsparkle  your  priceless 
precious  stones. 

(Juan     nf    Diamonds.    Ah, 

you  have  a  pretty  wit,  Sir 

Joker.   But  are  they  not  truly 

the  most  brilliant  of  jewels? 

•Inker.    The  most   brilliant 

of  jeirels,  yes ;  but  they  pale 

lie  fore1  their  wearer's  beauty. 

[Takeshisscat  </n  Hie  stool 

null-  tile  throne. 
Enter,  L.,  Knave  of  Clubs, 

ir/m  aiiuoiiiiiTx, 
Knare  of  Clubs.  Their  Maj- 
esties the   King   and   Queen 
of  Clubs. 
Music.      Kuter  the   King    and 

Queen  of  Clubs,  L. 
Kin//  of  Heartx.  Welcome, 
welcome,  good     Clubs.      My 
best  wishes,  fair  lady,  my  best 
wishes! 

fjnccii  nf  Hearts  (to  Queen 
of  Clubs).  Greeting  to  you, 
and  pray  take  seat  beside  our 
cousin  of  Diamonds. 

[At  the  entrance  of  the 
King  and  Queen  of 
Clubs  the  King  anil 
Queen  of  Hearts 
arise,  as  before.  The 

King  of  Clubs  lioirx  to  tin'  King  of  Hearts,  and  kiss- 
es tin  hand  of  the  Queen  of  Hearts.  The  Queen  of 
Clubs  courtesies.  She  then  sits  dntrn  in  nit  arm-chair 
neji  to  the  Queen  of  Diamonds,  the  King  of  Clubs 
stands  behind  her,  and  the  Knave  of  Clubs  taken  hi* 
place  on  the  bench. 

(t>iu in  nl'  Hi  arts.  It  is  indeed  a  pleasure  to  have  you  here 
again.  'Tis  now  many  a  long  day  since  I  have  seen  yon. 

lthieen  of  Clubs  (fanning  her.sclf,  mid  nfleetintf  an  air  of 
i/rciil  irenriiiexx).  All,  dear  lady  of  Hearts,  you  cannot  con- 
ceive of  my  perplexities.  What  with  tournaments  and 
le\ees  and  audiences  at  large,  the  days  do  slip  so  swiftly 
by,  giving  me  no  pause  for  rest  or  recovery,  that  I  do  find 
myself  ending  the  week  ere  I  realize  it  to  have  begun. 

Joker.  Yet  time,  fair  Queen,  seems  to  have  touched  your 
comely  brow  with  a  light  finger.  The  winged  hours  fly 
swiftly  past  yon,  but  yourself  dwell  at  the  one  sweet  sta- 
tion of  constant  yoiithfuluess. 

< >m  i  n  of  Clubs  (haughtily).  So  graceful  a  speech,  Sir 
Joker,  were  worthy  of  a  knight  rather  than  of  a  fool. 

Joker.  It   is  for   the   listener  to   detect  when    the   fool 


WHAT    IS    THIS    MYSTERY? 


speaks  foolishly.     For  he  himself  is  too  great  a  fool  to  judge 
of  the  burden  of  his  speech. 

Queen  of  Diamonds  (superciliously,  to  Queen  of  Clubs). 
Methinks  his  words  have  a  double  edge. 

Joker  (to  Queen  of  Diamonds).  You  wrong  me, good  lady, 
for  he  that  playeth  with  edged  tools  is  most  apt  to  cut 
himself. 

Enter,  L.,  Knave  of  Spades,  irho  announces, 
Knnre  of  Spades.  Their  Majesties  the  King  and  Queen  of 
Spades. 
Music.      Enter,  L.,  i»  gnat  haute,  the  King  ami  Queen  of 

Spades. 

King  of  Spades  (breathlessly).  Ah,  I  so  greatly  feared,  my 
lord— 

Kin//  of  Hearts.  A  hand  to  thee,  cousin  of  Spades,  a  hand 
to  thee,  and  welcome. 

Queen  of  Hearts.  And  a  fair  day  to  you,  good  dame  of 
Spades. 

(Juan  of  Spades  (panting).  Sweet  cousin, we  did  so  great- 
ly fear  to  be  behindhand  that  we  did  hasten  beyond  all 
reason.  I  am  quite  forlorn  of  breath. 

Queen  of  Hearts.  Scat  you,  seat  you,  good  lady. 
[Tlie  King  and  Queen  of  Spades  HIT   rery  much  out  of 
hn  nth,  anil    ren/    irarin.      The    King    and    Queen    of 
Hearts,  arize    at  their  entrance  to   ///•/«  t   Iliein,  but  the 
King  if  nil  Queen  of  Spades 
are  NO  orereome  ii'itli   t.inl,1- 
nn'iil    that    the//    forget     the 
conventionalities,    and    the 
Queen  of  Spades  flops  into 
tin     I  hi  ril    ni-in-ehair    irilh- 
out    making    tint/    courtesy. 
The  King    of  Spades    tnl.ii. 
/(is  stand  behind  her,  triping 
his     linnr     rigorously    with 
liis   handkerchief,  then  sud- 
dt  nil/  n  n/eni hers  he  has  omit- 
ted  to   kiss  the  hand  of  hit 
hostess,     lie  hastens  across 
the  stage,  falling  as  he  goes, 
anil  makes  up  for  the  omis- 
sion.    The  Knave  of  Spades 
situ  on  the  bench. 
Queen     of    Hearts.     There, 
now,  rest  you  easily,  for  there 
is  small  haste  for  the  feast. 

King  of  Spades  (still  mop- 
ping his  face  and  puffing).  I 
am  much  relieved  that  we 
were  not  late  on  the  banquet. 
Kin;/  nf  Hearts.  The  ban- 
quet should  have  waited  on 
you,  cousin. 

King     of     S}>ades    (pacing 
about  the  stage,  nerrunslii  fan- 
ning himself;  occasionally  he 
stumbles  and  falls).  Ay,  but  I 
might  not  so  well  have  waited  on  the  banquet. 
Queen  of  Spades.  True,  he  hungers  mightily. 

[Fans  herself  vigorously  icith  her  handkerchief. 

i,iuccii    of  Hearts   (to   Joker).    Sir  Joker,  the  Queen    of 

Spades  suffereth  of  her  exertions.      I  beg  of  you  seek  a  fan. 

[Joker  bines,  and  ejcit  K. 

Queen  of  Clubs  (aside  to  Queen  of  Diamonds^.  I  marvel 
at  the  rapacity  of  some  folk. 

Queen  of  Diamonds.  Verily    one   might  think   that  there 

lacked  meat  and  cooks  and  scullions  in  the  land  of  Spades. 

Queen  of  Clubs.  Nay,  but   I  dare  say  they  be   short   two 

scullions  at  the  present  hour.  [They  laugh. 

Queen  of  Hearts  (In  Queen  of  Diamonds).   What  say  you? 

ijiiccii  nf  (_'lnbs.  I  was  saying  that  if  haste  might  always 

so  trim  our  cheeks  with  color  as  that  which  now  blooms 

upon  the  fair  face  of  our  cousin  o.f  Spades, it  were  worth 

the  discomfort  of  so  great  an  energy. 

Enter  Joker,  R.      //<  prexculx  fan  In  Queen  of  Spades,  ieln> 

fans  herself  boisterously. 

.Inker.  Would  I  w  ere  a  fan,  that  even  my  whispers  might 
be  of  such  grateful  reception  to  a  lady's  ear! 


(375 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"DIDST    THOU    STEAL    THE    FIRE-CRACKERS?" 

Queen  of  Spades.  Not  my  ear,  Sir  Joker,  not  my  ear.  It 
is  my  nose  that  reddens  from  my  efforts. 

Kin//  of  Spades  (wiping  his  brow  and  neck  with  his  h/ind- 
k( -rrhief).  And  as  to  me,  it  is  my  neck.  'Tis  the  pity  of  be- 
ing stout. 

Joker.  The  neck,  Sir  King  ?  Aha,  but  I  warrant  that 
even  if  it  be  moist  without,  it  is  dry  within. 

King  nt'  Spades  (with  asperity).  Ay,  marry,  fool ;  but  not 
so  dry  as  thy  wit. 

King  /if  Urartu.  Come,  come,  cousin,  heed  him  not.  (The 
Joker  inures  orer  t/j  the  throne  of  the,  Queen  of  Hearts,  and 
rulers  into  eiinirst  r/inri  rxatioii  icith  her.)  It  pleases  me  to 
hear  you  say  yon  bring  a  good  appetite  to  the  feast. 

King  of  Spades.  Verily  I  feel  as  though  I  were  one  vast 
incarnation  of  appetite. 

King  of  Hearts.  All  the  more  honor  will  you  do  us,  and 
we  shall  ever  recall  this  Fourth  of  July  as  one  that  pleased 
you.  And  the  good  lady  of  Spades,  lias  she  too — 

Queen  of  Hearts  (screams).  Ah,  me!  Ah,  laekaday,  lack- 
aday!  [Faints. 

King  of  Hearts.  What  is  this  1  What  is  this  ?  The  Queen 
faints !  A  cup !  a  cup ! 

Queen  of  Diamonds,  Queen  of  Clubs,  Queen  of  Spades  (ris- 
ing anil  rushing  t/i  the  Queen  of  Hearts'  seat.  They  pat  her 
hands  and  fan  her).  Yes,  a  cup,  a  cup! 

\_The.  three  Knaves  rush  out,  R.,  tumbling  orer  one  an- 
other and  shouting  "  Water,  irater .'"  The  Knaves 
return,  one  at  a  time,  hearing  glasses  of  irater,  lint  they 
are  met  each  time  by  the  King  of  Spades,  icho  takes 
tin  glass,  goes  half-way  to  the  Queen  of  Hearts,  and 
then,  in  liis  excitement,  drinks  the  iratir  himself.  This 
"  business "  can  In  carried  on  while  the  ensuing  dia- 
logue is  In  in//  spoken. 

',"'"«  of  Hearts  (recorering  herself).  Nay,  nay,  trouble 
not.  I  am  myself  again.  It  was  merely  the  Joker. 

['The  three  Queens  resume  their  scat*. 

King  of  Hearts  (angrily).  The  Joker? 

',"'"•«  of  Hearts.  Ay,  he  spake  in  my  ear,  and  said — 

King  of  Hearts  (threatening  the  Joker).  What,  Sir  Joker! 
Hast  thou  dared  to  frighten  or  disturb  the  Queen? 

Queen  of  Hearts  (expostulating).  Nay,  nay,  the  Joker  is 
good  !  Good  Sir  Joker,  tell  the  King.  Tell  them  all,  that 
they  may  know  ! 

King  of  Hearts  (sternly).  Come,  Sir  Joker,  what  is  this 
in  \stcry  ? 

•loker.  There  is  no  mystery,  my  lord.  It  is  all  but  too 
plain.  Her  Majesty  the  Queen,  as  you  know,  did  fashion 
eight  large  fire-crackers  of  tine  red  paper,  the  which  were 


placed  upon  the  board  for  the  banquet.  I  went  to  seek  a 
fan  for  her  Majesty  of  Spades,  and  in  passing  tlir  banquet 
hall  curiosity  did  impel  me  to  look  in  upon  the  (aides.  The 
tire-crackers  are  not  there,  luy  liege.  They  have  been  pur- 
loined. They  have  been  stolen. 

[Great  excitement.     The  Kings  anil  Queens  talk  and  ges- 
ticulate with  one  another. 

King  of  Hearts.  What?     The  fire-crackers  are  stolen  ? 

Jul'cr.  Ay,  my  lord,  stolen. 

King  of  Spades.  And  will  there  be  no  fireworks  after  the 
feast  ?  • 

King  of  Hearts.  And  the  thief? 

Joker.  It  is  but  left  for  us  to  guess. 

King  of  Hearts.  And  thou  hast  suspicion  ? 

Joker.  True,  my  lord,  I  have. 

Kiny  of  Hearts.  Name  him,  Sir  Joker. 

All.  Ay,  name  him — name  him! 

Joker.  Nay,  nay,  my  liege.  'Twere  unjust  falsely  to  ac- 
cuse— 

Kiny  of  Hearts.  Name  him,  Sir  Joker! 

All.  Ay,  name  him! 

Joker.  My  lord — 

King  of  Hearts.  Name  him.     I  command  thee! 

Joker.  Hath  no  man  stolen  before? 

King  of  Hearts.  Thou  meanest — 

Joker.  The  Knave  of  Hearts. 

All  (lifting  their  hands).  The  Knave  of  Hearts! 

King  of  Hearts.  The  rascal  Knave  !  Where  is  he?  Come, 
come,  I  must  have  him!  He  is  not  here  1  Then  hale  me 
hither  that  churlish  lout, and  heavily  shall  he  pay  his  sins! 
(Exeunt  the  three  Knaves,  L.)  Aha!  but  there  is  no  cause 
for  laughter  here ! 

King  of  Spades  (rery  much  excited,  throws  himself  in  an 
exhausted  condition  on  tin  bench,  L.).  Laughter — laughter? 
Well,  I  should  say  thee  nay !  Is  the  larder  robbed  ? 

Queen  of  Hearts.  Nay,  he  has  but  taken  the  fire-crackers. 

King  of  Spades.  The  crackers — the  crackers!  Did  be 
take  the  cheese  too  ? 

Joker.  Nothing  else  is  gone. 

King  of  Spades.  Ah,  fortune  be  praised  ! 

Queen  ofClubs(to  Queen  of  Hearts).  And  did  you  fashion 
these  fire-crackers  * 

King  of  Hearts.  With  her  own  Lauds  she  fashioned 
them. 

Joker.  One  for  each  guest. 

Queen  of  (7«fc«.  Indeed — indeed!  And  is  the  Queen  as 
dexterous  at  the  fashioning  of  lire-crackers  as  she  is  at  the 
baking  of  water-crackers  and  other  light  confections  ? 

Queen  of  Hearts.  You  are  sweet  so  to  flatter  me. 


'THE    IDENTICAL    TARTS!" 


676 


A  K  HIV  At,    OF    THE    ROYAL   GUESTS. 


Queen  of  (.'liilm.  But  I  so  well  remember  the  Christinas 
pie. 

Kiii/i  of  Nptiih-H.  Pie!  Where  is  the  pie? 

•Inker.  It  was  eaten  last  Christmas,  the  pie. 

Kini/  of  Spades.  Oh,  alack  ! 

Joker.  But  it  was  a  noteworthy  pie.  I  have  rhymed  upon 
it.  Pray  listen.  [Hint/it. 

"  Sing  a  song  of  sixpence, 

A  pocket  full  of  rye, 
Four-and-twenty  blackbirds  baked  in  a  pie ; 

When  the  pic  was  opened 

The  birds  began  to  sing; 
Was  not  that  a  dainty  dish  to  set  before  the  King?" 

King  of  Spades.  Indeed  that  must  have  been  a  tooth- 
some dish. 

[jYoi'w  and  elimination  trilliont.  Enter  tin'  Knaves,  L., 
tiro  ilrayyitty,  one  punliini/  the  Knave  of  Hearts.  He 
is  forced  to  Itis  knees  in  front  of  tin-  King  of  Hearts' 
throne. 

King  of  Hearts  (sternly).  Tliere  be  severe  accusations 
against  thee,  Knave. 

Enure  of  Hearts.  Oh,  my  King!  I  pray — 
King  (if  Hearts.  Silence,  churl !  Answer  but  my  questions. 
Didst  thou  steal  the  fire-crackers? 

Knare  of  Hearts.  Not  "  steal,"  my  lord. 
Kilty  of  Hearts.  Didst  thou  steal  the  tire-crackers? 
Knare  of  Hearts.  I  did  but  take  them  from  the  table. 
Kin;/  of  Heart*.  Thou  makest  confession,  then  ? 
K  mi  re  of  Hearts.  My  lord,  my  lord,  I  would  but  say  one 
word  in  explanation. 

Kin;/  i'f  Hi  HI-IS.  Thou  shalt  say  nothing.  This  is  the  sec- 
ond time  thou  art  taken  a  thief.  Last  summer  thou  didst 


si  ciil  the,  Queen's  tarts,  and  now  thou  takest  the  tire-crack- 
ers. Thou  shalt  pay  for  it  with  thine  head!  Thou  shall  lie 
blown  up  to-night  upon  a  monster  pile  of  fireworks. 

Knare  of  Hearts.  Mercy,  my  lord  —  mercy!  Let  me  exr 
plain. 

King  of  Hearts  (to  tlie  oilier  Knaves).  Remove  him. 

[The  Knave  of  Hearts  is  ilrayyed  mil,  L. 

Queen  of  Diamonds.  And  did  he  steal  once  before  ? 

King  of  Hearts.  That  he  did,  and  was  therefore  severely 
punished.  I  myself  did  beat  him  full  sore. 

Kin;/  of  Spnilea  (slapping  King  of  Hearts  on  tlie  back).  Do 
it  again,  cousin  —  do  it  again  ! 

King  of  Hearts  (approvingly).  That  shall  I!  ThonspeaUest 
well.  I  beg  your  patience,  ladies;  but  I  will  beat  this 
Kuave  before  he  dies. 

[Erit  King,  L.  ,rolli>iy  up  liia  sleeres. 

Kin;/  of  Spades  (to  Queen  of  Spades).  'Tis  fortunate  he 
did  but  take  the  fire-crackers.  I  should  have  grieved  sore- 
ly had  they  been  tarts  ;  for  tarts  one  may  eat,  but  fire- 
crackers they  be  somewhat  indigestible,  I  fear. 

Queen  of  Clnhs.  I  had  uot  heard  of  this  previous  theft. 

Queen  of  Hi  arts.  It  was  similar  to  this,  fair  cousin.  And 
the  Joker  hath  likewise  rhymed  upon  it. 

Queen  of  Clubs.  Indeed.  And  may  we  hear  the  verse,  Sir 
Joker? 

Joker.  It  is  a  pleasure  to  sing  it.  [.S/»</« 

"  The  Queen  of  Hearts 
She  baked  some  tarts 
All  on  a  summer's  day  —  " 


of  beatini/  without,  and  land  cries  by  tlie  Knave 
of  Hearts  of  "Ow!"  "  Ow!"  "  Mei-ey,  my  lord!" 
"Hold!"  "Hear  me!" 


077 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TAP.LE 


Queen  of  Spade*.  'Tis  evident  tin-  piiiiisliinciiHi.-itlilic.unn. 

Queen  of  Chilis.  (Hi.  tin-  poor  Knave!   the  poor  Knave! 
[.Wore  sound*  of  benliiig  ninl  more  cries.      Tin:  King  of 
Spades  lieeonie*  rerif  nnteli  excited. 

Kiny  of  Spades  (shaking  his  fiat  in  tin  direction  of  the  cries). 
H;ive  at  him,  good  cousin  of  Henri s,  have  at  him!  All,  but 
those  are  lusty  blows!  By  my  halidame,  I  would  fain 
•,<  iiiH-ss  that  controversy!  [Slap*  his  knee. 

.////,.;•.  A  most  one-sided  controversy,  my  lord. 

King  of  Spade*.  Nay,  but  I  warrant  the  King  doth  lay  it 
»n  on  In, ih  side*.  [Mare  ben  tin;/  and  cries. 

Joker.  Ay,  from  the  sounds,  ho  doth  lay  it  on.  But,  doubt- 
less, it  will  whet  his  appetite. 

King  of  Spade*.  His  appetite?  Now,  by  St.  Dagobert,  I 
ha  \  e  already  an  appetite  as  I  had  beaten  an  hundred  knaves! 

Joker.  Then  will  it  also  be  a  one-sided  controversy  when 
yon  meet  the  banquet  board. 

King  of  Spade*.  I  would  fain  go  out.  and  beat  the  Knave 

for  causing  this  delay.     (Sounds  and  eric*.)     Have  at  him! 

Have  at  him,  sir!     Now,  a  good  one  for  me,  sir,  a  good  one! 

[Tlir  sound*  and  cries  gradually  eenxr. 

Queen  of  Chili*.  Prithee,  Sir  Joker,  finish  your  rhyme: 
y lid  but  sing  the  first  lines. 

Joker  (sings), 

"  The  Queen  of  Hearts 

She  baked  some  tarts 
All  on  a  summer's  day; 

The  Knave  of  Hearts 

He  stole  those  tarts, 
And  bore  them  far  away. 

"The  Kin?  <>l   limits 

Called    lor  those  tarts, 
And  beat  the  Knave  full  sore — ' 

Enter  ttic  King  of  Hearts,  L.,  sonieirhnt  nut  of  breatli,  rolling 

ilinen  hin  sleeres,  and  I'nlloired  by  tin  Knaves  of  Diamonds, 

Clubs,  and  Spades. 

King  of  Heart*.  Ah,  but  I  did  ply  the  rod  right  lustily! 
I  am  quite  aweary-  [sit«  doirn. 

Kin/i  of  Spades  (rubbing  hi*  hand*).  We  did  much  enjoy 
the.  music  ! 

Queen  of  Hearts,  (iood  spouse,  I  would  begone  thing  of 
thee.  It  being  the  Fourth  of  July,  and  so  our  nation's  birth- 
day, spare  the  rogue  his  life.  Let  him  come  before  us  again. 
You  heard  him  say  he  would  make  explanation.  Let  him 
come,  and  speak.  Perchance  it  is  not  too  late  for  him  to 
make  restitution. 

King  of  Henri*  (in  astonishment).  Dost  thou  truly  desire 
that  the  varlet  should  be  spared? 

Queen  of  lien rtx  (pleading).  Ay,  truly,  my  lord.  And  I  do 
especially  yearn  for  the  return  of  the  lire-crackers. 

King  of  Spade*.  Ay,  cousin,  if  he  would  but  return  the 
lire-crackers,  hear  him,  I  urge,  hear  him. 

King  of  Heart*  (to  tlie  three  Knaves1).  Hale  me  hither  that 
Knave  again.  (E.niinl  /lit  Knaves,  L.)  I  greatly  doubt  me, 
s\\  eel,  lady,  that  the  thieving  churl  will  return  the  crackers. 
He  did  not  return  the  tarts.  But  if  he  can  and  does  re  turn  the 
lire-crackers,  then  at  your  request  will  I  spare'  him  his  life. 

(fiieen  i  if  III  iirl*.  Yon  make  me  promise  of  that,  my  King? 

King  of  Henri*.   You  have  my  word  upon  it. 
Killer,  L.,  //ir  tliree  Knaves  e*enrting  the  Knave  of  Hearts,  who 
is  rerif  sore  us  it  n.still  of  liis  heating. 

King  of  Henri*.  Knave,  the  Queen  hath  begged  of  me  to 
let  tl speak  ere  the  headsman  seals  thy  lips  forever. 

h' nil  re  of  Heart*.  A  blessing  upon  yon,  good  lady. 

King  of  Henri*.  And  now  speak  what  thou  hast  to  say, 
and  may  thy  words  be  brief. 

Knnre  of  Henri*.  My  liege,  I  did  not  steal  the  fire-crackers. 
I  did  but  see  them  near  the  tapers,  and  I  did  fear  lest  they 
catch  lire  and  explode  upon  the  table.  Methonglit  thev  were 
the  daintier  did  they  hold  some  sweet  contents,  and  so  I 
took  them  and  bore  them  nil',  and  found  them  void.  So 
then  I  was  about  to  bring  them  back  to  the  banquet  board, 
when  yon  messengers  did  seize  me  and  hale  me  roughlv  be- 
fore your  Majesties. 

King  of  Henri*.  And  thou  didst  have   intention  to  re- 
'  turn  them? 


Knnre  of  Heart*.  Ay,  verily,  my  liege.  Verily  I  did.  1 
plead  now  that  I  be  allowed  to  bring  them  to  the  board. 

J\iu i/  of  Henri*.  Speakcst  thou  the'  truth.  Knave? 

Kuan  of  Heart*.   Every  word  is  truth,  sire. 

King  of  Henri*.  Then  go  thou  and  seek  the  fire-crackers. 
(  To  tlie  oilier  Knaves.)  And  go  ye  with  him.  (  To  tlie  Knave 
of  Hearts.)  The  Queen  holds  my  word  that  if  thou  bring- 
est  them  back,  I  spare  thy  life.  Now  look  to  thyself.  Away  ! 

[Exeunt,  L.,  the  four  Knaves. 

Joker.  It  is  a  cheap  life  that  costeth  but  eight  lire-crack- 
ers! 

King  of  Spades.  Ay,  but  the.  fire-crackers  be  worth  more 
than  yon  Knave's  life. 

Queen  of  Heart*.  Come,  speak  no  more  of  his  life.  It  is 
no  longer  forfeit.  He  hath  promised  restitution,  and  (lie 
King  will  bestow  plenary  pardon. 

King  of  Spades.  Well,  as  for  me,  I  am  more  anxious  as  to 
the  crackers  than  as  to  any  Knave's  life. 

[Manic.  Enter,  L.,  tlie  four  Knaves,  eneh  ben  ring  tiro 
large  fire-cracker*.  Tlie  re  a  re  tart*  in  each.  Tlie  Knaves 
xtnnd  *i<le  by  *ide  along  tlie  trail,  L. 

King  of  Spade*.  Aha,  the  lire-crackers,  the  fire-crackers  ! 

Queen  of  Spade*.  And  most  wondrous,  wondrous  are  they ! 

tjHccu  of  Diamonds.  Truly  they  be  most  marvellously 
fashioned. 

Kim/  of  Heart*.  Now,  Knave,  according  to  my  promise, 
and  because  of  the  gracious  intercession  of  the  Queen,  thy 
life  is  spared,  for  thou  hast  brought  back  the  fire-crackers. 
Take  them  to  the  board.  And  if  ever  again  tbon  art  taken 
a  thief,  thou  needst  not  reckon  thy  life  at  the  hundredth 
part  of  a  farthing. 

King  of  Spade*.  But,  Sir  King,  the  Knave  did  say  he  took 
the  lire-crackers  that  he  might  place  somewhat  therein. 

King  of  Hearts.  True,  I  remember  he  said  so.  Hast  thou 
placed  aught  within  them,  Knave? 

Knnre  of  Heart*.  Ay,  my  lord.  When  I  did  first  purloin 
the  Queen's  tarts  last  summer,  methonght  to  eat  them.  But 
being  so  sorely  beaten  by  your  Majesty,  I  did  refrain,  and 
so  kept  the  tarts  uneaten.  To-day  I  return  the  tarts  in  the 
lire-crackers,  thereby  making  double  restitution  to  her  most 
charitable,  and  generous  Majesty  the  Queen  of  Hearts. 

[Tin  Knaves  open  tlie  fire-crackers  and  shake  out  tlie  Inrls 
into  a  trail  held  hi/  the  Joker. 

Qneen  of  Hearts.  The  tarts  ? 

Knnre  of  Heart*.  Ay,  my  Queen,  the  identical  tarts. 

tt>ueeii  of  <'lnli*.  But  they  must  be  stale  of  the  last  sum- 
mer? 

Joker.  Nay,  fair  lady.  These  be  royal  tarts,  and  not 
of  the  general.  Age  cannot  stale  them,  nor  can  human 
possibility  limit  their  infinite  variety. 

<t>iiceii  of  Hearts.   Taste  them,  fair  cousins,  taste  them. 
[The  Joker  pa**es  around  the  tnrtx;  eaeh  player  takes 
one. 

King  of  Sjiades.  And  do  I  not  taste  ?     Do  I  have  no  tart  ? 

Queen  of  Heart*.  Ay,  Sir  King,  there  shall  none  go  hun- 
gry here. 

King  of  Spade*  (hnring  taken  a  tart  trith  eaeli  band,  bite* 
out  of  en  eh  in  turn  an  he  *peak*).  Ah,  a  strawberry  tart  and 
a  gooseberry  tart.  But  they  bo  both  most  toothsome. 
Most  excellent,  most  excellent,  my  lady  of  Hearts. 

Queen  of  Hin.nonds.  Verily  they  are  as  if  they  had  but 
just  come  from  the  oven  ! 

tjneen  of  Club*.   Most  deliciously  sweet. 

Queen  of  Spade*.    So  good  I  never  tasted  before. 

King  of  Hearts  (to  Knave  of  Hearts).  It  is  well  for  thee, 
Knave,  that  thou  hast  so  wisely  demeaned  thyself.  The 
return  of  the  tarts  cleanses  thee  of  all  past  evil-doing. 
Henceforth  I  hope  thou  wilt  be,  as  before,  a  good  Knave,  a 
strong  Knave,  and  a  loyal  Knave.  Good  friends,  let  us  now 
to  the  banquet. 

Kiiuj  of  Sim/lex.  A  most  laudable  purpose! 
[Tbe  King  of  Hearts  offer*  hi*  hand  to  the  Queen  of 
Hearts,  and  conducts  her  from  the  throne  to  the  front  of 
the  Ktnge.  The  three  other  Queens  rise  nnd  </''""/' 
theniselres  iii  a  aeniieirele  beliind  the  King  and  Queen 
of  Hearts.  Thus,  beginning  from  the  right  side  of  the 
stage,  the  character*  stand  in  tliix  urder  in  the  semicir- 
cle :  King  of  Spades,  Queen  of  Spades,  King  of 


078 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Chilis,  Queen  of  Clubs,  King  of  Diamonds,  Queen  of 
I  liainonds,  Joker,  Knave  of  Hearts,  Knave  of  Spades, 
Knave  nf  Diamonds,  /mil  Knave  of  Clubs. 
•(•»  of  l/i-in-lx  (Hililn'ssiiii/  the  iiuilii'iiw). 


Kind   friends,  our  play  is  done. 

Tlie  crackers  are  returned  ; 
Our  end  is  won, 

The  lesson's  learned; 
And  all  that's  left  to  do 

Upon  this  festive  eve 
Is  that  we  give  to  you 

Our  thanks  before  you  leave. 
But  as  you  go,  take  this  ; 

It  is  not  quite  a  moral  — 
Yet  the  point  you  cannot  miss, 

And  so  we  shall  not  quarrel: 

Tis  well  the  Knave  did  not  retain 
These  things,  but  brought  them  back. 

Tis  good  we  made  the  King  refrain 
Krom  executing  Jack, 

Else  none  could  play  at  cards  again 

Short  one  Knave  in  the  pack. 

[CURTAIN.] 

The  costumes  of  the  Kings  and  Queens  and  Knaves  should  be 
made  to  correspond  as  nearly  as  possible  with  the  costumes  of 
those  characters  in  a.  pack  of  playing-cards,  the  colors  used  being 
red,  white,  yellow,  and  black.  The  Joker  should  be  dressed  in  the 
regulation  costume  of  a  court  jester  of  the  sixteenth  century,  with 
cap  and  bells.  This  player  should  be  selected  with  particular  re- 
gard for  his  ability  to  enact  the  part,  which  requires  gracefulness, 
some  ability  to  sing,  and  a  careless,  debonair  manner  of  speaking. 
If  there  are  enough  players  available,  the  spectacular  effect  of 
the  pieee  can  be  greatly  enhanced  by  adding  soldiers  and  court 
attendants  to  the  speaking  characters.  The  latter  should  be 
dressed  like  the  lower  Heart  cards  of  the  pack.  This  effect,  may 
be  obtained  by  dressing  the  players  in  tunics  (something  like  the 
placards  worn  by  the  "  sandwich-men  "  who  display  advertise- 
ments on  the  streets),  on  which  the  face  of  the  card  may  be  easily 
represented  with  pieces  of  red  flannel  cut  into  the  shape  of  hearts. 
•The  stage  decoration  should  be  entirely  of  hearts  arranged  in  every 
conceivable  combination.  The  fire-crackers  should  be  of  papier- 
mache,  and  made  so  as  to  open  at  one  end.  Such  can  be  obtained 
at  almost  any  confectioner's.  The  larger  they  are,  the  better.  The 
tarts  should  be  real  tarts.  Portieres  should  be  hung  in  the  two 
entrances,  and  if  possible  should  resemble  ancient  tapestry.  The 
effect  of  beating  (when  the  King  is  punishing  the  Knave  of  Hearts) 
is  easily  obtained  by  having  some  one  behind  the  scenes  beat  a 
rug  or  carpet  with  a  cane  —  the  louder  the  better.  The  fire-crack- 
ers in  the  opening  scene  should  be  set  off  in  an  empty  barrel  be- 
hind the  scenes.  The  characters  must  remember  that  they  arc 
representing  figures  on  playing-cards,  and  should  be  careful  al- 
wavs  to  take  the  attitudes  familiar  to  us  on  such  cards.  This  is 
not  required  of  the  Joker.  A  pianist  can  add  greatly  to  the 
effect  of  the  performance  by  playing  appropriate  music  at  the 
entrance  of  the  various  characters,  and  at  such  other  periods  of 
the  performance  as  may  seem  proper. 

The  four  royal  couples  are  supposed  to  represent  different  hu- 
man characteristics.  The  Hearts  are  lovable,  gentle,  well-bred 
people.  The  Diamonds  are  rich,  overbearing  persons,  and  the 
Queen  should  be  decked  out  with  jewels.  The  Clubs  represent 
social  and  political  prominence  and  arrogance,  and  should  hold 
themselves  accordingly.  The  Spades  are  the  exponents  of  the 
under-bred,  uneducated,  but  well-meaning  portion  of  society. 
Thus  the  Knave  of  Spades  should  be  a  good-natured  fat  fellow, 
meaning  no  harm,  but  not  particularly  comely  or  graceful. 

If  soldiers  are  added  to  the  cast,  they  should  enter  with  the 
King  and  Queen  of  Hearts,  and  take  up  their  positions  along  the 
back  of  the  stage  at  either  side  of  the  thrones.  They  should  also 
stand  by  the  doors,  and  should  take  the  parts  assigned  to  the 
Knaves  in  the  scene  where  the  Knave  of  Hearts  is  dragged  before 
the  King,  and  led  away  to  be  punished.  But  the  returning  of  the 
fire-crackers  must  be  done  by  the  four  Knaves. 

The  plavers  who  take  the  parts  of  the  red  cards  should,  if  pos- 
sible, be  light  haired,  those  who  represent  the  black  cards  should 
be  dark  haired. 

In  the  stage  directions,  R.  stands  for  Right;  L.  for  Left.  The 
right  and  left  sides  of  the  stage  correspond  to  the  right  and  left 
sides  of  the  spectators,  not  of  the  players. 


GEORGE.  "Mamma,  baby's  a  stupid   little   fellow:  the 
other  day  he  cried  for  an  hour,  and  then  he  didn't  get  it." 


HOW    TO   BUILD    AN    INEXPENSIVE 
SHOOTING-BOAT. 

ANY  boy  with  ordinary  intelligence  and  mechanical 
skill  can  build  this  inexpensive  and  useful  shooting- 
boat.  Because  it  is  called  a  shooting- boat  it  docs  not 
mean  that  it  can  be  used  for  shooting  only;  on  the  con- 
trary, a  great  many  of  these  little  boats  are  used  for  tenders 
to  cat-boats  on  Barncgat  Bay. 

First,  procure  two  hemlock  boards — being  the  cheapest. — 
10  feet  long.  Take  off  in  the  proper  scale,  from  body  plan 
of  boat,  Fig.  3,  the  sections  numbered  1, 2,  3,  4,  etc.  Instead 
of  cutting  out  curve  of  deck,  as  shown  in  body  plan,  make 
the  part  flat  where  the  curve  should  be,  as  shown  in  mould 
No. 6.  Carefully  draw  them  upon  pieces  of  planed  pine 
boards.  With  a  saw  go  over  the  lines  and  cut  the  sections 
out,  taking  great  care,  as  the  shape  of  your  boat  will  de- 
pend upon  these  sections. 

Lay  the  hemlock  boards  on  the  floor,  and  nail  strips  across 
them,  leaving  an  opening  of  8  inches  between  the  boards. 
Turn  the  boards  over, and  with  pencil  marks  divide,  them 
at  every  foot,  and  fasten  the  sections,  narrower  side  up, 
strongly  upon  these  boards  in  the  order  and  manner  shown 
in  Nos.  6  and  7.  It  is  better  to  fasten  the  mould  (planks 
and  sections)  together  with  screws,  as  it  will  be  easier  to 
take  apart  when  done  with,  thus  enabling  the  wood  in  it 
to  be  used  in  the.  construction  of  the  boat. 

We  will  now  commence  on  the  boat  proper.  The  work 
so  far  is  only  preparatory,  it  being  necessary  to  have  Ihr 
mould  to  hold  the  planking  of  the  boat  in  place  until  the 
braces  and  ribs  can  be  put  in.  Take  two  half-inch  pine 
boards  10}  feet  long,  and  nail  one  lightly  on  each  side  of 
the  mould.  With  a  tine  gimlet  bore  a  small  hole  through 
the  board  where  it  meets  the  angles  formed  by  each  sec- 
tion, as  shown  in  No.  7  on  mould.  Take  the  board  oil' 
again,  and  bending  a  thin  moulding  so  that  it  passes  through 
each  gimlet  hole,  trace  a  pencil  line  around  the  outside  of 
the  moulding.  After  having  done  this  with  the  four  lines 
of  holes,  go  over  the  pencil  lines  with  a  saw,  and  yon  have 
your  side  planks  finished.  Nail  one.  of  these  on  each  side 
of  the  mould  narrower  ends  to  section  No.  2,  allowing  tin- 
extra  ends  to  project  beyond  '1,  driving  the  nails  in  tin- 
holes  made  the  first  time,  using  as  few  nails  as  possible, 
and  taking  care  that  the  upper  edges  of  boards  are  on  a 
level  with  the  upper  edges  of  the  sections. 

Select  a  nice  piece  of  wood — oak,  if  possible — 18  inches 
long,  6  inches  wide  by  3|  inches  thick,  and  make  the  hori- 
zontal stern-post  (No.  9).  The  side-  and  luilf-breadth  plans 
are  shown  in  the  cut,  but  to  get  section  through  A  B  use 
section  No.  1,  body  plan  (Fig.  3).  The  rabbetting  is  half-inch 
deep,  and  is  intended  to  receive  the  side,  deck,  and  bottom 
planking. 

Cut  from  a  piece  of  three-quarter-inch  plank  the  sect  inn 
numbered  11.  This  is  the  stern-board.  Withdraw  the  nails 
holding  the  side  planks  to  section  11  in  the  mould,  and 
knock  the  section  off  the  mould,  substituting  for  it  the 
stern-board.  You  are  now  ready  to  put  on  the  bottom 
boards,  which  are  of  half-inch  material.  These  are  nailed 
on  crosswise,  the  ends  of  the  boards  resting  on  the  top  of 
the  sides.  Screw  on  the  stern-post,  putting  side  B  C  upper- 
most. 

We  have  now  finished  the  shell  of  our  boat,  and  we  must 

dispense  with  the  mould  before    the  work   can  contn 

Having  placed  braces  between  sides  at  M,N,  and  O,  Fig.  2, 
carefully  withdraw  the  nails  that  hold  the  sides  to  the  sec- 
tions, and  lift  the  mould  out. 

Take  a  three-qnarter-ineh  board  10  feet  5  inches  long 
by  4  inches  wide,  and  measure  oil  from  one  of  the.  ends  two 
points  2  feet  4  inches  and  4  feet  1J  inches  distant,  respect- 
ively, marking  these  points  with  a  pencil.  Between  these 
points  cut  with  a  chisel  a  slot  1J  inches  wide,  extending 
through  the  board,  and  at  each  end,  distant  a  half-inrh 
from  end  of  slot,  cut  a  hole  1  inch  long  and  half  an  inch  wide. 
Nail  this  plank  down  the  centre  of  the  boat,  inside,  nailing 
it  securely  and  with  plenty  .'I' nails  to  the  bottom  boards, 
where  the  slot  is  cut  in  the  plank  (keelson).  Now,  with  a 
chisel,  continue  the  slot  through  the  bottom  boards.  Take 
two  pieces  of  wood  2£  inches  wide,  1$  inches  thic-k,  and 


679 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


THE    LINES    OF   THE    BOAT. 

12J  and  10-|  inches  iu  length,  respectively,  and  cut  them  at 
one  end,  so  that  they  will  fit  tightly  in  the  little  slots  in 
keelson,  and  put  them  in  place,  the  shorter  one  nearest  bow 
(No.  5)  Cut  out  deck  beams  B  and  C,  fastening  them  at 
B  and  C,  and  knock  away  braces. 

To  get  the  .curve  of  the  deck  beams  A,  B,  and  C  (Fig.  2), 
we  will  take  curve  of  A.  To  proper  scale  draw  a  line 
equal  tu  width  of  boat  at  A.  Measure  height  from  gun- 
wale to  crown  of  deck  at  A,  and  draw  a  perpendicular  at 
centre  of  line  equal  to  this  distance.  Describe  an  arc 
touching  the  extremities  of  the  line  and  passing  through 
the  top  of  the  perpendicular,  and  this  arc  is  the  curve 
desired. 

We  will  now  plank  the  centreboard  trunk,  and  this 
should  be  done  with  care,  as  there  is  nothing  more  annoy- 
ing and  troublesome  than  a  leaky  trunk.  Put  in  brace  A, 
which  is  in  two  pieces,  extending  from  each  side  of  trunk 
to  gunwale.  Nail  on  the  keelson,  alongside  the  board 
trunk,  two  strips  of  wood,  which  will  serve  as  braces  for  the 
trunk.  At  the  top,  nail  between  A  and  B  two  strips  of  wood 
to  support  the  top  of  trunk,  making  the  upper  edges  of 
tliese  braces  come  half  an  inch  above  the  deck  beams.  Now 
fasten  in  the  beams  at  sections  4  and  5,  taking  the  curves  of 
the  beams  from  the  respective  sections.  Make  mast  step, 
and  bolt  it  to  the  middle  of  keelson.  Take  a  piece  of  wood 
2  feet  6  inches  long,  6  inches  wide,  cut  a  hole  iu  the  centre 
of  it,  and  shape  and  tit  it  in  at  D  (Fig.  2).  This  is  to  serve 
as  the  mast  brace.  Cut  from  a  piece  of  three-quarter-inch 
board  two  pieces  of  wood  3  feet  9  inches  long  and  2  inches 
thick,  and  fasten  them  between  beams  B  and  C,  one  on 
each  side,  and  eighteen  inches  from  the  centre  of  the  boat. 
Put  iu  deck  beams  6,  7,  8,  and  9  from  gunwale  to  these 
frames,  taking  the.  curves  for  the  requisite 
length  from  the  respective  sections.  Put  in 
the  rest  of  deck  beams.  Now  with  half- 
inch  boards  plank  the  deck.  Between  6 
and  7,  8  and  9,  on  each  side,  fit  in  a  piece  of 
three-quarter-inch  board,  which  is  to  hold 
the  oarlocks. 

Take  a  quarter-inch  board,  4  inches  wide, 
and  cut  from  it  two  pieces  3.J  feet  lung. 
These  will  form  the  side  coaming  of  the 
cockpit,  sen-wing  them  on  so  that  their 
In, (torn  edges  shall  he  Hush  with  bottoms  of 
cockpit  braces,  M'  N'  ( Fig.  2).  From  a  piece 
of  quarter-inch  plank  cut  the  two  pieces 
of  end  coaming,  making  these  follow  the 
curve  of  the  deck,  and  projecting  H  inches 
above  it. 

Cut  from  a  pirce  of  1 3-inch  stun"  the  oar- 
locks shown  in  No.  12.  Through  centre  of 
raised  part  bore  hole  t"  receive  iron  ring. 
Screw  projection  at  top  to  lock.  The  lock 
is  now  completed,  and  the  next  thing  is  to 


secure  it  to  the  deck  of  the  boat  with  bolts. 
The  skag  comes  next.  Out  of  a  three-quarter- 
inch  board  cut  the  pattern  shown  in  Fig.  1, 
and  with  bolts  and  screws  secure  it  to  the 
boat's  bottom  in  the  position  shown  in  Figs.  1 
and  2.  From  a  piece  of  oak  15  inches  long,  2 
inches  wide,  and  three-quarters  of  an  inch 
thick  cut  the  stern-post  shown  in  No.  10,  and 
fasten  it,  broader  side  on  stern-board  and  nar- 
rower side  on  end  of  skag.  Screw  in  the 
stern-post  the  rudder  braces,  making  one  on 
narrow  end  li  inches  from  end,  and  the  other 
10^  inches  above  this. 

Give  the  deck  of  your  boat  a  good  coat  of 
paint,  and  after  it  has  dried  tack  heavy  canvas 
over  it.  The  centreboard  is  of  the  "  dagger" 
pattern  so  commonly  seen  in  the  small  bateau 
and  skiff  on  the  Shrewsbury  Eiver  and  vicin- 
ity. Fig.  1  shows  all  the  essential  points. 
The  rudder  is  of  seven-eighths-inch  plank,  and 
after  a  careful  study  of  No.  4  its  construction 
can  be  readily  understood. 

The  hull  of  the  boat  is  now  complete,  and 
we  will  turn  our  attention  to  the  rigging. 
The  mast  is  7  feet  3  inches  long,  and  2i  inches  thick  at  the 
deck,  tapering  towards  the  top.  The  boom  is  9  feet  1  inch 
in  length,  excluding  jaws,  and  should  be  about  the  same 
thickness  throughout  the  whole  length,  having  only  a 
slight  taper  towards  the  end.  Each  jaw  should  be  made 
of  a  separate  piece  of  wood,  in  shape  shown  in  No.  2,  and 
fastened  to  boom  iu  manner  shown  iu  cut.  The  sprit  is  a 
three-quarter-inch  pole  9  feet  9  inches  long. 

The  sail  is  the  next  thing  to  attend  to,  and  being  quite 
small,  may  be  made  at  home.  Its  dimensions  are:  along 
the  mast,  5  feet ;  on  boom,  9  feet ;  top,  5  feet;  from  end  of 
boom  to  end  of  sprit,  11  feet  4i  inches.  The  general  shape 
may  be  taken  from  drawing,  and  it  will  be  necessary  to  < 
give  only  a  few  hints  in  addition.  The  extra  patches  seen 
at  corners  of  sail  are  pieces  of  heavy  canvas  put  there  to 
prevent  it  from  ripping,  the  heaviest  strain  coming  at  the 
corners.  The  eyelets  at  the  corners  had  best  be  formed  by 
first  cutting  a  round  hole  in  the  canvas,  and  then,  with  an 
"over-and-over"  stitch,  sewing  a  small  iron  ring  in  the 
hole.  The  edges  are  bound  with  strips  of  canvas  enclos- 
iug  a  small  cotton  rope.  The  sail  is  laced  to  mast  and 
boom  in  manner  shown  in  cut,  and  in  No.  3  is  seen  the 
manner  of  slinging  lower  end  of  sprit,  whilst  the  upper 
end,  which  is  sharpened,  is  poked  through  the  eyelet. 

To  reef  the  sail  it  is  only  necessary  to  remove  the  sprit, 
and  this  will  reduce  the  area  of  the  sail  nearly  half.  The 
sheet  rope  is  rigged  in  the  manner  showu  in  No.  8,  the 
boom  block  being  fastened  at  Y  (No.  1),  boom  rope  at  Z, 
and  the  snap -hook  caught  in  the  staple  P  in  deck 
(Fig.  1).  To  take  down  sail,  unhook  snap-hook,  take  out 
sprit,  raise  boom  up  alongside  the  mast,  and  lift  the  mast 
out. 


•' 

.'I  _-<••  •  —  7-7— 

leSfefc&L^ 

.™3*£>~  -r     _ 


DETAILS    OF    TI1E    BOAT. 


G80 


INTERSCHOEASTIO 


••-••••*»•• 


T^HE  CONTROVERSY  OVER  EnRicii,  the  Harvard  School 
catcher,  lias  been  settled  by  the  I.S.A.  A.  Executive 
Committee,  and  the  championship  pennant  has  been  award- 
ed to  the  protested  nine.  More  inconsistent  and  illogical 
action  could  not  have  been  taken,  and  the  way  it  was  done 
reflects  little  credit  upon  the  dignity  of  the  association. 
Controversies  such  as  this  one  are  always  regrettable;  but 
•when  they  do  arise  they  ought  to  be  settled  upon  their 
merits,  and  all  personal  feeling  in  the  matter  should  be  dis- 
regarded. Ever  since  De  La  Salle  protested  Ehrich,  the 
delegates  from  the  various  schools  to  the  I.  S.  A.  A.  have 
dodged  around  the  question  to  be  decided  by  them,  and 
have  adopted  a  policy  of  irresolution  aud  delay.  Several 
meetings  have  been  called,  but  not  until  this  last  one  was 
there  a  quorum  present — and  this  was  a  quorum  with  a 
very  small  q.  The  delay  between  the  time  the  protest  was 
filed  and  the  day  the  decision  was  made  was  put  to  very 
good  use  by  the  Harvard  scholars.  They  did  what  politi- 
cians would  call  "some  tall  lobbying."  They  did  it  to 
such  good  effect  that  the  vote  stood  15  to  5  in  favor  of 
Ehrich. 

THE  ARGUMENTS  ADVANCED  BY  THEM  iu  favor  of  their 
man  were  truly  amusing,  and  none  but  the  most  oblig- 
ing of  delegates  would  have  consented  to  allow  the 
wool  to  be  so  gracefully  pulled  over  their  drooping  eyes. 
These  arguments  were  to  the  effect  that  although  Ehrich 
had  spent  a  year  in  the  sub-Freshman  class  of  the  College 
of  the  City  of  New  York,  he  had  failed  to  pass  his  entrance 
examinations  into  the  Freshman  class  in  1894.  Neverthe- 
less, lie  was  admitted  to  that  class,  and  remained  a  member 
of  it  until  the  Christmas  term  examinations,  when  he  failed 
again,  and  so  left  C.C.N.Y.  for  the  more  congenial  precincts 
of  the  Harvard  School.  Therefore,  according  to  the  Har- 
vard representatives,  Ehrieh  was  never  really  a  member  of 
the  C.C.N.Y.  Freshman  class,  because  he  did  not  pass  his 
Christinas  examinations.  The  mere  fact  that  he  attended 
recitations  with  the  class,  and  enjoyed  other  privileges  of 
Freshmen,  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  case.  This  is  in- 
consequential, and  the  De  La  Salle  men  were  really  draw- 
ing the  line  too  fine  when  they  referred  to  it.  At  least  so 
must  have  thought  the  members  of  the  I.S.A.A.  committee, 
for  they  so  decided.  If  Ehrich  had  passed  his  examina- 
tions lie  would  have  gone  on  with  his  class  at  C.C.N.Y. 
This  was  no  doubt  his  intention  before  Christinas. 

BUT  THE  INCIDENT  is  CLOSED  NOW.  Harvard  School  lias 
the  pennant,  and  the  whole  matter  may  as  well  be  dropped. 
I  don't  suppose  the  members  of  the  I.S.A.A.  committee  feel 
very  proud  of  their  work.  They  find  themselves  now  in  a 
peculiar  position.  By  awarding  the  championship  to  Har- 
vard  they  practically  admit  that  they  had  no  business 
sending  the  De  La  Salle  nine  to  represent  the  League  at 
Eastern  Park  four  weeks  ago.  Their  only  justification  for 
sending  that  team  to  Brooklyn  would  have  been  to  award 
them  the  championship.  But  in  all  these  incidents  some  les- 
son is  to  be  learned.  From  this  one  I  think  we  can  gather 
that  protestors  should  not  wait  until  the  last  moment  to 
make  their  objections,  unless,  of  course,  the  act  to  be  pro- 
tested is  not  committed  until  this  very  last  moment  arrives. 
Another  lesson  is  that  executive  committees  ought  to  attend 
to  their  business  promptly,  and  decide  knotty  points  iu 
time  for  their  decision  to  be  of  some  value — not  a  month 
after  the  contest  to  be  affected  lias  been  settled. 

THE  STANDING  OF  THE  SEVERAL  NINES  in  the  N.Y.I. S.B.B. 

League,  according  to  the  games  played,  is  therefore  as  fol- 
lows : 


FIRST  SECTION. 

April  23.— Harvard, 8;  Berkeley,?. 

April  30. — Woodbridge,  by  default  from  Columbia  Inst. 

May  7. — Columbia  Gram. ,30;  Barnard,  4. 

May  14. — Harvard,  15;  Woodbridge,  0. 

May  21. — Harvard,  19  ;  Columbia  Gram.,  1. 

SECOND   SECTION. 

April  25.— Condon,  20 ;  Columbia  Inst.,  19. 
May  2.— Cutler,  7  ;  Drisler,  3. 
May  9. — De  La  Salle,  by  default  from  Hamilton. 
May  16. — Cutler,  13;  Condon,  0. 
May  23.— De  La  Salle,  25 ;  Cutler,  5. 

FINAL   GAME. 

May  31.— Harvard,  12 ;  De  La  Salle,  8. 

The  Harvard  School  team  suffered  no  defeat,  and  had  to 
play  three  games  to  win  the  first  section  series.  The  De 
La  Salle  team  had  only  one  game  to  play  to  win  the  second 
section,  Hamilton  defaulting  on  May  9th.  Few  of  the 
games  were  close  or  exciting,  as  most  of  the  scores  will 
show,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  next  year  a  greater  inter- 
est will  be  displayed  in  our  national  spurt. 

THE  AUTHORITIES  AT  ST.  PAUL'S  SCHOOL,  Concord,  go  to 
the  opposite  extreme,  iu  matters  connected  with  out-door 
sport,  from  the  course  adopted  by  many  other  large  schools. 
I  mean  in  regard  to  publicity.  In  New  York,  especially, 
many  principals  of  schools  believe  that  the  welfare  of  the 
institutions  over  which  they  preside  is  best  promoted  by  a 
reasonable  amount  of  newspaper  notoriety.  The  students 
at  those  schools  hold  the  same  opinion  ;  and  as  a  result  we 
read  a  good  deal  about  what  is  going  on  in  the  scholastic 
circles  in  this  city,  and  we  constantly  see  portraits  of  the 
rising  young  athletes  printed  in  the  daily  papers.  In  Bos- 
ton they  go  even  further.  For  a  column  about  schools 
printed  in  New  York  there  is  a  page  printed  in  Boston. 
The  faces  of  the  school  athletes  there  are  as  well-known 
to  the  public  as  those  of  the  most  prominent  amateurs  or 
professionals.  Too  much  of  that  sort  of  thing,  of  course,  is 
bad,  because  there  are  young  men  who  are  thus  led  to 
believe  themselves  much  more  important  than  they  are. 


ANDOVER'S    TRACK    ATHLETIC    TEAM. 


681 


HAEPEE'S   EOUND   TABLE 


WISCONSIN   INTERSCHOLASTIC   A.  A.  FIELD-DAT   AT    MADISON,  JUNE  S,  1*95. 


Events. 

Winners. 

Performance. 

Second. 

Third. 

^ 

A-  Kraenzlein,  E.S. 
A.  Kraenzlein,  E.S. 
c    M.'.vt,  S.S. 
A   Kraenzlein,  E.S. 
E.  Baer,  M.A. 
•A.  Donkle,  M.H-S. 

10  2-5  sec. 
17  3-5    " 
243-5    " 
27  4-5    " 
53  3-5     " 
2  m.  14  1-5    " 
5  "        3-5    " 
9  "   36           " 
37  ft.    7  1-2   in. 
103  "  11 
5  "     6  1-8     " 
20  "     6            " 

10  '•        1-2     " 

J.  Fox,  M.A. 
J.  Fox,  M.A. 
M.  Price,  Edg. 
S.  Lvle  M.H.-S. 
A.  Blodgett,  E.S. 
U.  stemel,  E.S. 
P.  Estes,  S.S. 
H.  Helms,  S.S. 
Worlhington,  W.  H.-S. 
Schilling,  M.H.-S. 
J.  Fox.  M.A. 
-Trott,  W.11..S. 

C.  Mej'^t,  S.S.. 

C   Kraisch,  S.S. 
"    A.  Blodgett,  E.>. 

Berryman,  M.H.-S. 
Mueller,  S.S. 
K.  Martin,  Jl  A. 
Brown,  M.H.-S. 
Knapp,  M.H.-s. 
Knapn,  M.  11.  -S. 
Wilson,  W.H.-S. 
Wilson,  \V.  11.  -S. 

Lean,  W.H  -S 

A.  Donkle.  M.I1.-S. 
P.  Shepard.  M.H.-S. 

A.  Kraenzlein,  E.S. 
R.  Worthington,  W.  H.-S. 

A.  Krnenzlein,  E.S. 
Clifford,  M.H.-S. 
\  Smith.       '  r  11    ^ 
,  Doolittle,  l  K 

Firsts  count  5.        Seconds  3.        Thirds!. 


ES    East  Side,  Milwaukee.        S.S. ,  South  Side,  Milwaukee.        M. A.,  Milwaukee  Academy.        M.H.-S.,  Madison  H 
W.H.-S.,  Whitewater  High-School.        E.H.-S.,  Evansville  High-School.        Bdg.,  Edgerton  High-School. 


M.H.-S..  Mndismi  High-School. 


Really,  the  worth  of  a  mau  iu  this  world — uo  matter  what 
his  sphere  in  life  may  be- -is  not  ganged  by  the  number  of 
inches  he  can  occasionally  command  iu  a  double-leaded 
column  with  a  spread  head  and  a  portrait. 

THE  VICK-UKCTOI;  OF  ST.  PAUL'S  is  of  the  conviction  that 
school  sports  of  late  have  run  wild,  and  that  the  best  way 
to  keep  them  within  bounds  is  to  avoid  any  publicity  what- 
ever. I  agree  with  the  vice-rector  that  this  is  a  good  enough 
way,  but  I  aui  not  at  all  of  the  opinion  that  it  is  the  best 
way.  Newspaper  enterprise  and  competition  have  become 
so  great  of  late  that  it  is  very  difficult  to  withhold  from  the 
public  any  matter  of  real  importance.  If  one  paper  does 
not  get  it, another  \\  ill.  If  the  uewsgatherer  does  not  obtain 
all  the  facts,  there  will  be  just  enough  printed  to  give  an 
erroneous  and  unfortunate  impression  to  the  reader.  It  is 
my  opinion  that  a  regulated  publicity  is  best.  Any  uews- 
gatherer who  feels  confident  that  he  is  getting. just  as  much 
as  his  neighbor,  and  that  the  information  given  to  him  is 
reliable,  will  never  abuse  the  privilege  by  making  sensa- 
tional use  of  the  material.  It  is  usually  when  information 
is  withheld  that  sensationalism  is  called  in.  The  reading 
public  wants  something,  and  the  paper  that  has  not  got 
facts  to  give  cooks  up  something  as  a  substitute.  The 
uiau  who  withheld  the  facts  seldom  like  the  substitution. 

THESE  REFLECTIONS  HAVE  BEEN  CALLED  UP  by  the  remi- 
niscence of  the  manner  in  which  the  Halcyon  and  Shattuck 
boat  club  races  of  St.  Paul's  were  conducted  three  weeks 
ago.  They  were  held  on  June  llth,  at  eleven  o'clock  iu 
the  morning;  but  as  this  fact  had  been  withheld  from  pub- 
lic knowledge  the  spectators  were  practically  limited  to 
the  boys  of  the  school.  Of  course  that  is  just  what  the 
vice-rector  wanted.  But  is  he  right  in  this  ?  Why  not  let 
the  good  people  of  Coucord  stand  upon  the  .shores  of  Peua- 
cook  Lake  and  watch  the  race  between  these  crews  of 
healthy  American  boys?  Is  there  anything  about  sport,  as 
conducted  at  .St.  Paul's  School,  that  the  vice-rector,  or  auy 
one  else,  should  be  ashamed  of?  Of  course  not!  Then 
why  not  be  open  ami  aboveboard  about,  it  ?  Why  race  when 
the  townsman's  back  is  turned?  Why  deprive  him  of  a 
little  healthful  cheering  and  an  inspiriting  sight?  He 
would  surely  be  the  better  for  it,  aud  the  St.  Paul's  crew 
would  be  none  the  worse. 

THE  RACES  THIS  YEAH  WEKE  most  interesting,  and  one 
incident  of  the  six-oared  race  was  thrilling.  At  a  point 
about  half-way  down  the  course,  while  the  Shattucks  and 
the  Halcyons  were  still  about  even,  Oglebay,  who  was  row- 
ing No.  2  iu  the  Shuttuck  boat,  broke  his  oar -lock.  Of 
course  his  muscle  was  of  no  further  avail,  and  thenceforth 
he  could  be  but  a  passenger,  so  lie  did  what  every  level- 
headed oarsman  does  under  the  circumstance — he  leaped 
into  the  water.  He  was  picked  up  by  a  boat  near  by.  But 
with  only  rive  men  the  Shattucks  were  unable  to  win.  It 
is  a  sandy  thing  to  do,  this  jumping  into  the  water  from  a 
racing-shell,  and  while  Oglebay  is  entitled  to  praise  for 
leaping, he  would  most  certainly  have  deserved  censure  if 
lie  had  not  jumped.  In  the  race  between  Vale  and  the 
Atalanta  crew  on  New  Haven  Harbor,  in  1890,  Phil  Allen, 
stroke  and  captain,  broke  his  oar  arid  jumped  into  tin  .sea. 


He  was  picked  up  by  the  referee's  tug,  aud  stood  at  the 
bow  dripping  wet  as  he  watched  his  seven  men  defeat  the 
crack  amateur  crew  of  New  York.  Allen  got  his  training 
at  St.  Paul's — in  fact,  most  of  the  best  oarsmen  of  Harvard 
and  Vale  learned  to  row  on  Lake  Penaeoolc. 

THE  FIRST  RACE  OF  THK  DAY  at  this  regatta  was  a  contest 
between  the  Halcyon  and  Shattuck  four-oared  shells,  which 
was  easily  won  by  the  former,  in  11  min. 21  sec., by  about 
six  lengths.  The  second  race  was  the  one  in  which  Ogle- 
bay  jumped,  and  the  last  was  the  contest  for  the  school 
championship  between  the  two  eight-oared  crews  of  the 
same  clubs.  The  outcome  replaced  the  Shattnck  blue 
above  the  Halcyon  crimson — the  latter  having  been  the 
champions  for  the  past  four  years.  The  Shattnck  stroke 
started  at  39  to  the  minute,  but  soon  fell  to  37,  aud  about 
half-way  down  the  course,  dropped  to  3(i.  The  winning 
crew  led  the  entire  distance,  aud  their  time  was  9  min.  14^ 
seconds. 

KOWING  AS  A  SCHOLASTIC  SPORT  has  never  been  much 
practised  iu  this  country  except  at  St.  Paul's  School,  which 
aims  rather  more  than  any  other  American  institution  to 
follow  the  manners  and  customs  of  our  Eton  and  Rugby 
cousins.  And,  as  far  as  following  the  athletic  customs  and 
usages  of  the  Britons  is  concerned,  they  could  not  do  bet- 
ter at  Concord,  or  anywhere  else.  There  have  been  races 
every  year  on  Lake  Pen acook  since  1871,  when  the  Halcyon 
crew  defeated  its  rivals  over  a  one-mile  course  in  8  min. 
32  sec.  But  St.  Paul's  has  peculiar  advantages  for  the 
sport  that  other  schools  are  deprived  of.  Years  ago  there 
was  rowing  at  St. Mark's  School. Southboro',  but  it  was  given 
up  for  a  number  of  reasons.  The  sport  is  to  be  resumed, 
however,  next  spring :  hut  the  coutests  will  be  inter-class 
affairs.  The  day  when  we  shall  see  interscholastic  boat- 
races  is  far  distant,  I  am  afraid  ;  although  there  is  uo  rea- 
son why  it  should  be. 

EXETER  AND  ANDOVER  used  to  row,  too ;  but  I  dou't  re- 
member that  there  ever  was  an  Exeter-Audover  race. 
Exeter  is  situated  near  enough  to  the  sea  to  feel  tide- 
water: and  the  .Swaiascott  River  is  very  broad  near 
the  town.  Above  it  is  dammed  oft',  and  the  upper 
portion  is  locally  knowu  as  Fresh  River.  The  row- 
ing used  to  be  done  on  Salt  River,  below  the  dam. 
Shells  were  sent  up  to  the  school  Athletic  Association  by 
Yale  and  Harvard,  who  were  anxious  to  encourage  the 
sport  so  as  to  obtain  good  material  for  their  own  crew  s.  and 
for  a  number  of  years  there  were  class  races  in  the  fall  and 
spring.  But  after  the  novelty  of  the  thing  had  worn  away, 
aud  no  race  was  arranged  with  Andover,  interest  flagged, 
and  iu  1883  or  1884  the  sport  was  abandoned,  and  the  old 
boat-house  was  left  to  decay  and  fall  to  pieces.  The  col- 
leges sent  shells  to  Andover,  too,  and  there  was  some  ilr.snl- 
tory  rowing  there  for  a  few  years,  but  it  was  finally  aban- 
doned teu  or  twelve  years  ago,  probably  for  the  same  rea- 
son that  Exeter  gave  it  up — because  no  iiiterschola-tn- 
contest  was  arranged.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  it  will  be 
revived,  for  there  is  no  better  sport  on  the  calendar,  and, 
from  a  spectacular  point  of  view,  it  is  far  ahead  of  many 
games  that  now  enjoy  wide  popularity. 


682 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


TlIK  ACCOMPANYING  TABLE  SHOWS  what 
records  were  made  by  the  athletes  of  the 
Wisconsin  I.S.A.A.  at  tlieir  first  annual  field 
day  which  occunvd  on  June  tfth,  on  the 
campus  of  the  University  of  Wisconsin  at 
Madison.  The  8tli  day  of  June  was  a  great 
one  for  track  and  ticld  sports  all  over  the 
country,  apparently.  For  a  youngster  this 
Wisconsin  association  is  in  a  flourishing 
condition,  anil  great  is  its  prowess.  Ten 
schools  constitute  its  membership,  and 
nearly  one  hundred  entries  were  down  on 
the  programme  for  the  field  day.  The 
Milwaukee  East  Side  High-School  took  first 
place  with  32  points. i">  of  which  wen-  made 
by  Kraenzlein,  who  won  five  firsts.  He  is 
a  promising  all-round  athlete.  When  it  is 
taken  into  consideration  that  he  ran  his 
three  races  w  ithin  an  hour  or  so,  such  time 
as  104  sec.  for  the  100, 17f  sec.  for  the  high, 
and  2?J  sec.  for  the  low  hurdles  is  remark- 
able. These  records  will  doubtless  stand  at 
Madison  for  some  years  to  conic. 

Tun  DAY  AFIEK  To-MoRKow  will  be  an- 
other great  day  for  out-door  sports.  The 
biggest  field  meeting  in  the  neighborhood 
of  New  York  will  be  that  of  the  New  Jersey 
Athletic  Club  at  Bergen  Point.  Several  of 
the  school  athletes  who  have  made  records 
for  themselves  the  past  season  have  entered. 
and  if  they  manage  to  do  as  well  as  they 
did  at  Travel's  Island  on  the  15th  of  last 
mouth  they  will  soon  establish  a  high  repu- 
tation. Baltazzi  will  jump,  but  only  high 
enough  to  win.  He  has  been  training  hard 
lately,  and  can  do  six  feet  now  beyond 
i|iiestiou.  But  he  is  keeping  these  extra 
inches  up  his  sleeve  for  the  Britishers  in 
September.  THE  GRADUATE. 


CPUDDING! 


This  DeiiHi-luienl  i^  umnlucti-il  in  tlif  intt>re>l  nt'  l.Jirls  au.l 
Women,  and  the  Editor  will  bt-  pleased  to  answer  any  que- 
the  subject  so  far  as  possible.  Correspondents  should  address  Editor. 

WAKM  ?  Well,  what  else  can  we  ex- 
pect ?  Here  it  is  July,  with  our 
thoughts  all  flying  out  like  banners  in  the 
breeze  toward  the  day  of  which  we  are 
proudest  in  the  whole  year,  The  Fourth! 
No  other  day  has  "the"  before  it,  and  no 
other  has  so  splendid  a  meaning  for  us 
Americans.  I  never  think  of  it  without  a 
thrill  of  .joy,  and  a  sort  of  happy  "  Hail 
Columbia"  feeling,  and  no  matter  how  sul- 
try it  may  be  I  want  to  go  to  the  piano  and 
play 

"  My  country  'tis  of  thee, 
Sweet  land  of  liberty  — 

Of  thee  I  sing; 
Land  where  my  fathers  died, 
Land  of  the  pilgrims'  pride, 
From  everv  mountain-side 
Let  freedom  ring!" 

IN  my  childhood  we  used  to  keep  Inde- 
pendence Day  in  a  very  patriotic  spirit. 
Waking  in  the  morning,  our  eyes  saw  flags 
and  festoons  of  bunting  —  the  red,  white, 
and  blue  —  interwoven  with  evergreens  on 
churches,  houses,  and  lamp-posts.  Scaffolds 
were  erected  from  which  eloquent  speakers 
addressed  open-air  meetings,  churches  held 


services,  nnd  everybody,  young  and  old, 
listened  to  the  Declaration  of  Independence 
read  by  some  Senator,  or  ex-Governor,  or 
other  distinguished  personage.  The  Sun- 
day-schools walked  in  procession,  all  the 
girls  in  white,  with  badges  or  sashes  of  the 
dear  colors  we  loved,  the  bo\  s  with  white 
duck  trousers,  and  blue  jackets  with  brass 
buttons,  and  they  had  badges  too.  It  was 
really  flue.  Soldiers  and  martial  music — 
bugles,  drums,  tiles,  playing;  their  loudest — 
picnics,  and  fire-crackers  galore  signalized 
the  day,  which  was  further  endeared  to 
children  by  cherry-pie  at  dinner,  and  ice- 
cream following  fireworks  in  the  evening. 
Tired  and  happy  we  went  to  lied,  and  we 
were  confirmed  by  these  delightfully  patri- 
otic Fourths  iu  our  love  of  country. 

FLOUENCIC  and  Eva,  looking  languidly  up 
at  this  point,  observe  that  the  Fourth  iu 
these  days  is  too  warm  for  so  much  exer- 
tion. 

IT  is  very  much  as  one  looks  at  it  whether 
one  is  to  suffer  or  enjoy  most  during  the 
summer.  Fretting  and  fidgeting  and  vio- 
lent fanning  add  to  one's  discomfort.  To  go 
right  on  with  one's  work,  and  neither  think 
nor  care  for  the  heat,  often  enables  one  to 
forget  it,  and  if  the  mind  be  only  held  su- 
perior, the  body  does  not  so  much  mind  be- 
ing too  warm  or  too  cold.  Some  foolish 


people  actually  fuss  and  fume  themselves 
into  fevers,  when  summer  is  reigning  in  her 
bounty,  ripening  fruits  and  grains,  and  giv- 
ing us  her  splendid  skies  and  sunsets. 

To  keep  the  house  cool  in  July,  air  it 
thoroughly  in  the  early  morning,  then  close 
the  windows  and  screen  doors,  and  darken 
bedrooms  and  parlors.  A  dark  closed  room 
will  be  comfortable  at  mid-day.  Select  a 
cool  window,  or  a  corner  of  the  veranda, 
and  carry  your  books  and  sewing  there,  or 
establish  yourself  under  a  tree.  Eat  cold 
di-hes  and  ripe  fruit.  Fan  moderately. 
Do  not  drink  quantities  of  iced  water.  Do 
not  let  yourself  be  annoyed  or  vexed  with 
any  one.  Bathe  at  least  twice  a  day,  and 
think  pleasant  thoughts. 

A  LAWX  PARTY  is  charming  for  a  late  af- 
ternoon iu  summer.  Invite  your  friends  to 
come  from  five  to  eight  o'clock.  .Spread 
rugs  on  the  grass,  and  bring  out  some  small 
tables  and  rocking-chairs.  For  refresh- 
ments have  lemon  sherbet,  sponge-cake, 
ice-cream,  snow-pudding,  iced  tea  or  coffee, 
thin  sandwiches,  or  anything  else  you  like. 
Play  lawn-tennis  or  croquet,  or  any  other 
game  you  choose. 


I 


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TABLE  will  be  as  full  of  matter  interesting  to  its  present  readers 
during  the  summer  months  as  it  is  now.  Many  will  go  to  dis- 
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683 


HAKPER'S   BOUND   TABLE 


BICYCLING 


Copyright,  1S95,  by  Harper  A  Brothers. 


This  Department  is  conducted  in  the  interest  of  Bicyclers,  and  the  Editor  will  he  pleased  to 
answer  any  question  on  the  subject.  Our  maps  and  tours  contain  much  valuable  data  kindly 
supplied  from  tlie  othVial  miios  and  road-books  of  the  League  of  American  Wheelmen.  Recoe- 
nizi-'i,'  the  value  of  the  work  being  done  by  the  L  A.  W.,  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to  furnish 
subscribers  with  membership  blanks  and  Information  BO  far  us  possible. 

THE  COURSE  THIS  WEEK  to  be  described  is  the  third  stage 
from  New  York  to  Albany  011  a  reasonably  slow  plan 
of  movement.  Tlie  first  two  trips,  which  have  already  been 
described  iu  the  ROUND  TABLE,  are  from  New  York  to  Tar- 
ry town,  and  from  Tarrytown  to  Poughkeepsie.  The  third 
stage  then  continues  from  Poughkeepsie  to  Hudson,  a  dis- 
tance of  somewhat  over  forty  miles.  Starting  from  the 
Nelson  House,  at  Poughkeepsie,  at  the  top  of  the  hill  running 
up  from  the  river,  the  rider  runs  out  of  Poughkeepsie  on 
the  Albany  Post  Road  to  Albany,  following  tlie  telegraph 
wires  six  miles  to  Hyde  Park.  From  this  point  the  run  up 
to  Blue  Stores,  altogether  twenty-six  or  twenty-seven  iiiilrs, 
the  road  cannot  be  mistaken,  and  over  these  twenty-seven 
miles  it  is  as  fine  a  stretch  of  bicycling  journey  as  one 
could  well  desire.  There  are  almost  no  hills,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  a  small  stretch, which  is  rolling  country  and  not 
difficult.  The  Madeline  House  at  Red  Hook  is  a  good  rest- 
ing-place, and  the  rider  on  the  journey  passes  through 
Staatsburg,  Rhiuebeck.  Red  Hook,  Upper  Red  Hook,  Clere- 
mout,  and  thence,  after  a  two-mile  run,  enters  Blue  Stores. 
From  this  point  on  to  Hudson,  a  distance  of  eleven  or  twelve 
miles,  there  are  more  hills,  though  no  very  bad  ones,  and 
the  road  is  not  so  good.  It  is  six  and  three-quarter  mile* 
to  McKinstryville.  On  leaving  Blue  Stores  the  rider  should 
keep  to  the  left  around  the  hotel,  and  the  road  is  then  di- 
rect to  McKinstryville  The  road-bed  is  of  clay,  and  is. 
rather  poor,  though  it  improves  as  you  approach  McKiustry- 
ville.  Out  of  McKiustryville  the  road  runs  direct  to  Hud- 
son, about  five  miles  away.  It  is  sandy,  with  occasional 
bits  of  loam,  and  is  by  no  means  as  good  riding  as  from 
Poughkeepsie  to  Blue  Stores. 

IT  WILL  BE  NOTICED  by  looking  at  the  map  that  the,  best 
bicycle  route,  which  is,  of  course,  the  Albany  Post  Road, 
keeps  on  the  higher  ground,  somewhat  back  from  the  river, 
after  leaving  Staatsburg.  This  is  the  road  that  is,  on  the 
whole,  wiser  for  the  wheelman  to  take.  It  is,  however,  pos- 
sible, and  to  one  who  is  anxious  to  see  the  country  and  the 
places  of  historic  interest,  it  would  perhaps  be  more  plea- 
sant to  turn  to  the  left  about  two  and  a  half  to  three  mile* 
out  of  Staatsburg,  and  run  down  to  the  river  on  the  road 
marked  as  a  fair  bicycle  road.  This  route  can  be  followed 
without  description  by  carefully  studying  the  map.  It 
keeps  the  Hudson  in  view  most  of  the  time,  passes  through 
Rhiuecliffe,  Barrytown,  Annandale,  Tivoli,  East  Camp,  Ger- 
luautowu,  North  Germautowu,  Burden,  Catskill  Station, 
and  runs  into  Hudson  near  the  two  best  hotels  in  the  town 
—the  Worth  House  and  the  Hotel  Lincoln.  Furthermore, 
if  the  rider  is  making  a  trip  to  Albany  by  much  slower 
stages,  and  thus  giving  himself  time  to  make  somewhat  ex- 
tended detours,  he  can  stop  along  this  road  at  Rhineclitt'e, 
at  Tivoli,  and  at  Catskill  Station,  and  make  short  trips 
across  the  river  and  into  the  country  on  the  other  side. 
Indeed,  if  the  time  is  at  his  disposal,  this  is  much  the  most, 
interesting  method  to  follow,  and  any  wheelman  who  plans 
to  take  the  Albany  trip  is  vigorously  urged  to  make  it  a 
matter  of  a  week  rather  than  of  two  or  three  days.  There 
are  good  hotels  at  Tivoli  ;  the  Blue  Stores  Hotel  at  Blue 
Stores  is  a  reasonably  comfortable  stopping-place.  The 
points  of  especial  interest  along  the  way  are  Vassar  Col- 
lege (1);  Hudson  River  State  Hospital  (2);  St.  Stephens 
College  (3)  ;  North  Bay,  where  the  first  steamboat  was 
built  by  Fulton  and  Livingston  (4);  New  York  State  Re- 
formatory for  Women  (5). 

NOTE. — Map  of  New  York  city  asphalted  streets  in  Nn.  809.  Mnp  of 
route  from  New  York  to  Tarrytown  in  No.  S10.  New  York  to  Stamford, 
Connecticut,  in  No.  Sll.  New  York  to  Staten  Island  in  No.  S12.  New 
Jersey  from  Hoboken  to  Pine  Brook  in  No.  813.  Brooklyn  in  No.  814. 
Brooklyn  to  Babylon  in  No.  815.  Brooklyn  to  Nortbport  in  No.  S16t 
Tarrytown  to  Poughkeepsie  iu  No.  81T. 


684 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


[STAMPS 


This  Devirtmcnt    is  ,-,,n,iuc(nl    in   tlie  interest   ,,f  ,t*ui\:  ,,,,,1  ,.„]„ 
cc.llt-eti.rs,  and  the  Editor  will   be  pleased  to  auswtjr  liny  question  on 
these  subjects  so  far  as  possible.    Correspi.udenu  shuulil  :i.l 
SUunp  Department. 

THIS  Department  is  conducted  in  tlie  in- 
terest of  the  readers  ofHARPEn's  ROUND 
TABLE  —  (l)*To  give  the  im/i<>!'t<nit  stamp 
uews  of  the  day;  (2)  to  assist  the  yumm 
collectors  to  collect  intiili/n'iithi  by  giving 
them  hints  on  those  subjects  which  are  usu- 
ally so  difficult  to  understand,  such  as  pn- 
foratious,  water-marks,  papers,  colors,  meth- 
ods of  manufacture,  varieties  of  dies,  and 
the  care  and  nuiiuigement  of  their  philatelic 
treasures:  (3)  to  aus\ver  questions  in  this 
column,  or  by  letter,  provided  a  stumpi-d 
and  addressed  envelope  bt;  enclosed  with 
the  inquiry.  I  hope,  however,  all  collectors 
will  provide  themselves  with  a  catalogue, 
sold  by  all  stamp-dealers,  as  this  will  iu  it- 
self answer  such  questions  as  "  What  is  the 
value  of  a U.  S.  stamp  *" 

MOJ.LIK  DAVIS. — The  stamp  i&  catalogued  at  2c. 
LANTIE  V.  BLUM.— I  advise  young  collectors  always 
to  buy  stamps  from  well-knowu,  respectable  dealers. 
See  our  advertising  columns  for  names. 

C.  P.  MuKiLi.opp.— The  lOc.  green  U.  S.  1851  unper- 
formed is  worth  OU  to  T5  cents.  The  same  stamp  per- 
forated is  worih  25  cents.  The  lOc.  1861  is  worth  5 
cunts;  tbe  smile  stamp  ^rillc-il  is  \vorl h  40  cents.  The 
6c.  Lincoln  1STO,  grilled,  is  worth  $4,  but  without  grill 
2  cents. 

F.  G.  CLAPI* — The  Richmond  stamp  is  a  fraud. 
Look  a  litlle  sharper,  and  you  will  flnd  the  2o.  curivni 
issue  with  a  white  line  inside  the  frame  of  the  triangle 
There  is  a  new  issue  of  I".  S.  envelopes.  The  waler- 
iniirk  has  been  changed. 

L.  II.—  The  gold  coin  has  no  premium,  owing  to  the 
monogram.  1  should  prefer  to  see  [he  Blo.id,  Boyd, 
and  Boutou  stamps  before  making  any  definite  an. 
swer,  as  you  do  not  give  the  dates  of  the  letters  to 
which  they  are  affixed. 

MUKUAY  CAMPIIELL — The  various  Confederate  bills 
are  worth  very  little.  Tbe  stamp -dealers  sell  them 
very  cheaply. 

E.  P.  Tuu'p.—  The  revenue-stamp  is  worth  2  cents. 
The  Ic.  1S51  without  the  outer  line  at  the  bottom,  and 
the  same  stamp  perforated  I.1S56'  with  the  line  are  the 
scarce  varieties. 

ROY  THOMPSON.— There  is  no  premium  on  the  frac- 
tional currency  used  during  the  war,  unless  it  is  per- 
t<vtly  fresh  and  has  never  been  circulated. 

C.  G.  ATHKRTON.— Sverige  means  Sweden.  The 
French  stamp  is  a  revenue,  not  a  postage-stamp.  The 
Brazil  is  a  newspaper-stamp. 

!  E.  C.  CKOSKTT.—  The  scarce  variety  of  the  7c.  1810 
|TJ.  S.  is  the  one  without  the  line  around  the  inner  cir- 
cles of  the  bulb. 

J.  K.— The  Kew-Kiaui:,  Wuhu,  etc.,  are  Chinese  lo- 
cal stamps,  and  were  issued  primarily  to  sell  to  collec- 
tors. 1  would  not  advise  buying  them,  as,  speaking 
philatelically,  they  are  simply  trash. 

A.  E.  BAKBOW.— English  stamps  surcharged  I.  R. —  I 
Official,  are  simply  official  stamps  used  for  govern- 
mental mail  matter.  The  blue,  green,  and  red  "Jen- 
kins Camden  Despatch  "  are  either  reprints  or  counter- 
feits. In  either  case  they  are  of  no  value.  The  New 
Zealand  and  Confederates  mentioned  by  you  are  all 
catalogued  regularly. 

A.  B.  JOHNSON.—  The  1882  re-engraved  of  U.  S.  1S70 
have  most  of  their  lines  deepened.  It  is  almost  ini- 
povsible  to  explain  by  words,  but  a  single  look  at  the 
originals  and  the  re-engiaved  will  show  you  once  for 
all  the  difference.  The  embossing  of  the  U.  S.  stumps 
was  made  on  the  supposition  that  the  cancellation  of 
an  embossed  stamp  would  make  it  impossible  to  use 
the  stamp  a  second  time.  Possibly  it  would  do  so  if 
the  embossing  were  strong  enough  to  ph-rce  the  stump 
with  numerous  holes,  but  practically  the  idea  was  a 
failure  Clear  embossing  may  be  measured  by  a  milli- 
;metre  scale.  PHILATUS. 


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From  Harper's  Young  People  Series. 

Illustrated.      Post    8ro,   Cloth,   Ornamental,  $1  •>."> 


The  Mystery  of  Abel  Forefinger. 
DRYSDALE. 


By  WILLIAM 


Raftmates.  —  Canoemates.  —  Campmates. — 
Dorymates.      By  KIRK  MUNROE. 


Young  Lucretia,  and  Other  Stories,      By  ' 


E.  WlLKINS. 

A  Boy's  Town.     By  \V   D.  HOWELLS. 
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The  Talking  Leaves. — Two  Arrows.  —  The  Red 
Mustang.  By  \V.  O.  STODDARD. 

Prince  Lazybones,  and  Other  Stories.  By  Mrs. 
\V.  J.  HAYS. 

The  Ice  Queen.     By  ERNEST  INGERSOLL. 
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Toby  Tyler. — Mr.  Stubbs's  Brother.  —  Tim    and 
Tip. — Left  Behind. — Raising  the  "  Pearl.  "- 
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The  Four  Macnicols.     By  \VII.LIAM  BLACK. 

The  Lost  City, — Into  Unknown  Seas.  l',\ 
DAVIH  KEK. 

The  Story  of  Music  and  Musicians.  — Jo's 
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gain, and  Other  Stories.  —  Han.  —  The 
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687 


JULY. 

said 
Mary, 


^^*^ 

;*'••*;*-  ' 


THE   "FOURTH." 

PlIII.ANDKR    BUIGGS  PBF.THOTED  THAT   1113    PVKOTBOHN1O  OVCLE  WOULD  BE  T1IE 
SENSATION    OF   THE   DAY.       Ar<D   IT    WAS. 


FOURTH   OF 

"ELL," 
Auut 

"  so  the  Fourth  of 
July  is  here  again. 
How  many  fiugers  do 
you  expect  it  to  leave 
you  with,  Tommy?" 

"Ten,"  answered 
Tommy,  promptly.  "I 
didn't  know  there  was 
anything  about  the 
Fourth  of  July  to 
make  extra  fiugers 
sprout  out  ou  a  boy's 
hand." 

"  There  isn't  any- 
thing about  it  that  is 
apt  to  increase  the 
number  of  a  boy's  lin- 
gers; but  there  is 
something  about  it 
that  makes  it  a  good 

time  for  a  boy  to  get  rid  of  any  extra  or  superfluous  fingers 
lie  may  have.  Bursting  cannon  aud  big  tire-crackers  are 
very  serious  things  for  fingers." 

"Well,  I  haven't  any  fingers  that  I  want  to  get  rid  of," 
said  Tommy. 

"  Of  course  you  know  what  the  Fourth  of  July  commem- 
orates ?"  remarked  Aunt  Mary. 

"The  signing  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence,"  an- 
swered Tommy,  promptly. 

"Yes.  Now  suppose  it  had  been  signed  the  15th  of 
January,  what  sort  of  a  Fourth  of  July  do  you  suppose  that 
would  have  made?" 

"  Too  cold — suo\v  would  put  out  the  fire-crackers,"  re- 
plied Tommy. 

"  Just  what  Thomas  Jefferson  said,"  returned  Auut  Mary. 
"Charles  Carroll  of  Carrolltou  wanted  to  sigu  it  on  the 
l.'ilh  of  January,  but  Jeffersou  said,  'That's  no  time  for  fire- 
crackers. The  snow  will  make 'em  sputter  aud  go  out.  We 
owe  something  to  posterity.'  " 

"  Now,  Aunt  Mary,"  broke  in  Tommy,  "  I  believe  you — 

"  Listen,"  went  ou  Auut  Mary.  "  Listen,  aud  learn  about 
history.  'I  think  it  will  do  well  enough,' said  Charles 
Carroll  of  Carrollton.  'Fire-crackers  are  dangerous  things. 
Let  posterity  go  sleigh-riding  ou  the  glorious  loth  of 
January,  and  make  a  noise  by  cracking  the  whip.  Besides, 
Thomas  A.  Edison  will  soou  invent  snow-proof  fire-crack- 
ers.'" 

"  Aunt  Mary—" 

"  Dou't  interrupt  me,  Tommy.  '  No,'  said  Jeffersou, '  Sep- 
tembrr  is  the  time.  We'll  sigu  it  on  the  27th  of  September. 
Think  of  the  glorious  '27th  !  How  the  cauuou  will  boom, 
and  the  rockets  whiz,  aud — :  'I  wou't  agree  to  put  it  off' 
a  moment  beyond  the  22d  of  February,' said  Charles  Carroll 
of  Carrollton.  'That  won't  do,' answered  Thomas  Jefferson. 
'That's  the  birthday  of  the  father  of  his  country.  Two 
holidays  rolled  into  one  wouldn't  be  the  thing.  People 
would  celebrate  too  hard.  I'm  willing  to  make  it  the  13th 
of  August.'  'Let's  settle  ou  the  10th  of  March,'  replied 
Charles  Carroll  of  Carrolltou.  '  Thirty-first  of  July,'  said 
Jefferson.  '  Fourteenth  of  April,'  answered  Carroll.  They 
finally  compromised  on  the  4th  of  July." 


"What  history  did 
you  study 1"  asked 
Tommy,  as  the  best 
way  of  exposing  his 
aunt's  romancing. 

"All  of  the  good 
ones,"  she  answered. 
"Smith's,  aud  Brown's, 
and  Thompson's,  and 
Robinson's,  and  Jones's. 
Wherever  I  found  a 
good  fact  I  picked  it 
up.  I  was  always  very 
fond  of  facts  when  I 
went  to  school.  Did 
you  ever  hear  about  the 
dispute  Thomas  Jeffer- 
son and  Charles  Car- 
roll of  Carrollton  had 
when  they  came  to 
write  aud  sigu  the  Dec- 
laration of  Independ- 
ence I" 

"No,"  said  Tommy,  wondering  what  his  aunt  would  say 
next. 

"  They  had  quite  a  little  tiff.  Jefferson,  you  see,  wanted 
to  have  it  written  on  a  typewriter,  aud — 

"  But,  Aunt,  the  typewriter  wasn't  invented  then." 
"That's  just  what  Charles  Carroll  of  Carrollton  told  him. 
But  Jefferson  insisted  on  calling  in  the  janitor,  and  having 
it  invented  while  they  waited.  '  Posterity  can'  never  read 
my  handwriting,'  said  Jefferson.  'Besides,  my  fountain- 
pen  wou't  work  to-day;  you  know  how  it  is  with  these 
fountain-pens — some  days  ink  will  shoot  out  of  them  like 
water  out  of  a  garden  hose,  and  other  times  you  can't  get 
it  out  with  a  corkscrew.'" 

"  Why  didn't  Charles  Carroll  of  Carrolltou  tell  Jefferson 
that  fountain-pens  weren't  invented  either  ?"  asked  Tommy. 
"  I  don't  think  he  knew  it.  A  great  many  people  then 
thought  that  fountain-pens  were  invented.  Aud  then  they 
talked  a  long  time,  aud  Thomas  Jefferson  tried  to  get 
Benjamin  Fraukliu  to  set  it  up  in  type  aud  print  it,  but  lie 
said  he  had  to  go  fishing  with  his  kite  that  afternoon  for 
electricity  aud  so  couldn't;  aud  then  the  others  sided  in 
with  Charles  Carroll  of  Carrolltou,  and  Jefferson  had  to 
write  it  after  all,  with  a  quill  pen,  aud  with  saud  to  dry 
the  ink  with  instead  of  blotting-paper,  because  the  man 
who  had  promised  to  invent  blotting-paper  had  joined  the 
army  aud  gone  off  to  fight  the  British.  So  you  see,  Tommy, 
the  men  that  wrote  aud  signed  the  Declaration  of  Indepen- 
dence had  their  troubles.  But  you  ought,  to  be  thankful 
that  they  did  it  in  July  instead  of  January." 

Tommy  thought  a  inomeut,  aud  then  said,  "Yes,  I  am  ; 
but  if  they'd  doue  it  about  six  weeks  earlier  it  would  have 
given  us  a  holiday  while  there  was  school,  and  1  think 
that's  a  pretty  good  time  for  holidajs." 


A    GIIAND   DISPLAY. 

WHEN  I  witness  the  destruction  of  famed  cities  of  the  past 
Reproduced  in  pyrotechnics  ou  a  scale  superb  and  vast. 
How  their  ineffectual  tires  pale  in  potent  power  to  charm 
Before  that  dollar-twelve  assortment  dad  once  set  off'  at 
the  farm! 


688 


« 


HARPEKS 


ROUND  TABLE 


JWF 


Copyright,  1895,  by  HABFKE  &  BROTHERS.     AH  Rights  Reserved. 


PUBLISHED     WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI. — NO.  819. 


NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY,  JULY  9,  1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY 
TWO    DOLLARS    A    YEAR. 


THE     RALEIGH     REDS. 


BY    JULIANA     CONOVER. 


"  1  TTENTION!  Right  dress!  Front!  Order  arms! 
J\  Carry  arms !  Present  arms !  Right  shoulder  arms ! 
Carry  arms!  Stand  straighter,  Billy.  Can't  you  fellows 
keep  iu  line?  Right  face!  Left  face!  About  face!  Oh, 
all  right,  I  won't  go  ou  with  the  drill  if  you  dou't  try 
Larder  than  that." 

"  Lot  us  oft'  this  afternoon,  Tommy  1  There's  a  good  fel- 
low," begged  Billy  Atkins,  a  fat  little  chap  of  twelve,  \vln>, 
between  the,  heat  and  his  exertions  to  keep  his  round 
body  erect,  was  nearly  used  up. 

••  Vou  won't  ever  learn  to  drill  decently,  then,"  answered 
the  discouraged  Sergeant. 

"  Oh,  yes,  we  will,  iu  double-quick  time  ;  but  it  is  so  hot, 
and  we  all  want  to  be  in  good  shape  for  to-morrow.'' 

"  What  do  you  say,  fellows  1"  asked  Tommy,  turning  to 
the  other  panting  recruits. 

"Let's  stop,"  they  all  responded,  briskly,  "and  try  to  fix 
up  some  scheme  for  the  Fourth." 

"Very  well,"  answered  the  Sergeant,  a  little  reluctantly. 
"  I  did  want  to  try  the  bayonet  exercise  ;  but  I  suppose  we 


can  do  that  some  other  time."  Then  drawing  himself  up 
iu  true  martial  style:  "  Port  arms  !  Dismissed!" 

The  boys  took  instant  advantage  of  the  command,  and 
hastily  stacking  their  arms,  they  squatted  on  the  grass  to 
try  aud  cool  off  by  means  of  mumble-the-peg  and  a  dis- 
cussion of  Fourth-of-July  plans. 

Tom  Porter,  aged  twelve,  had  spent  a  year  at  a  military 
academy,  and  had  come  home  for  his  summer  holidays 
burning  with  military  ardor,  and  primed  with  tactics 
from  the  latest  manual  of  arms. 

He  soon  h'red  the  ambition  of  the  other  boys,  and  in. a 
week  had  organized  a  company — or  "  squad,"  as  he  decided 
it  really  was — composed  of  ten  raw  recruits  and  a  band  of 
two,  mustered  under  the  banner  of  the  Raleigh  Reds. 

They  drilled  faithfully  day  after  day  under  the  command 
of  their  enthusiastic  Sergeant,  and  the  discordant  sounds 
from  the  fife  and  drum  became  a  nuisance  to  the  neighbor- 
hood. 

But  now  that  the  novelty  of  the  drill  was  wearing  off, 
the  boys  began,  to  pine  for  active  service,  aud  wild  plans 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


pf  campaigns,  with  long  marches,  bloody  liattlcs,  and  glori- 
ous victories,  floated  through  Tommy's  brain  as  he  nightly 
revolved  the  future  of  tlie  Raleigh  Reds. 

"Well.  In'"'  are  we  going  to  celebrate  the  Fourth?1' 
asked  Billy  Atkins,  throwing  down  tbe  knife  in  disgust, 
after  failing  ignominioiisly  in  the  delicate  operation  known 
as  "eating  oysters."  "It's  no  fun  just  inarching  at  the 
tail  end  of  a  parade." 

"We  might  make  another  raid  on  old  Jones's  cattle," 
suggested  Herbert  Day  ;  "  \M-  know  a  lot  more  tactics  and 
maniriivres  now." 

"Not  much,  unless  Tommy  teaches  us  some  slick  barbed- 
wire-fener  drill."  said  Dick.  "  I'ui  on  my  last  pair  of 
trousers." 

"That  irax  a  pretty  big  fizzle,"  Tommy  said,  shaking  his 
head.  "  And  how  they  did  jolly  me  at  home  !  Did  you 
ever  hear  the  poem  my  sister  wrote  about  it?" 

"No  ;  -what  was  ii  .'" 

"  Well,  it  was  sort  of  like  '  Half  a  League,'  only  different, 
about  us,  instead  of  tbe  '  Six  Hundred.'  It's  pretty  good," 
modestly. 

'•  Can't  you  say  it.  ?"  asked  Herbert. 

"Yes,  go  ahead,  Tommy,"  chimed  in  the  others. 

Tommy  blushed.  It  seemed  conceited  to  recite  his  sis- 
ter's \  erseSj  and  yet  he  was  genuinely  proud  of  them. 

"  It's  a  grind  on  us,  you  know,"  he  said,  waruiugly. 

"Oh.  tlial's  all  right;  we're  used  to  it;  lire  away." 

Thus  pressed,  Tommy  began : 

"  '  Half  a  mile,  half  a  mile, 
Dust-choked  and  solemn, 
Straight  for  old  Jones's  field 
Marched  the  brave  column. 
"Forward,  the  Raleigh  Red! 
dun-ire  for  the  bull !"  he  said. 
Into  the  grazing  herd 

Marched   tin-  firm  column. 
"  '  Forward  the  squad  brigade.' 

"That's  -wrong,  you  know,"  he  stopped  to  explain,  "but 
Alice  wouldn't  change  it;  she  said  it  didn't  matter." 

"  It  doesn't  a  bit."  Dick  answered.     "Go  on;  it's  great!" 

"  '  i'urward  the  squad  brii:. 
Went  on  Tommy. 

"  '  Was  there  a  man  afraid  ? 
Not  though  the  privates  knew 
Jones's   bull's   bad   manners. 
Theirs  not  to  make  a  row, 
Theirs  nut.  to  question  how, 
Theirs  but  to  charge  the  cow, 
Into  the  grazing  hei  d 

Marehed  the  red  banners. 
'"Cows  to  the  right  of  them. 
Cows  to  the  left  of  them, 
Cows  still  in  front  of  them, 

Peacefully  chewing. 
<ia/cd  at  in  wild  surprise, 
Boldly,  with  steady  eyes, 
Marehed  on  at  double-quick 
Shouting  their  battle-cries, 
To  their  undoing.' 

"  '  Whisked  all  the  tails  so  bare. 
Whisked  in  the   sultry  air, 
Staring,  as  cows  do  stare. 

Chewing  the  cud  the  while. 
When  from  the  close  ranks 
Broke  forth  a  muffled  beat. 
Not  of  bass  drums,  but  feet, 

Jersey  and  Alderney 
Gazed  on  this   mad   retreat, 
<!.i/ed  on  the  gav  pranks 
Of  the  old  bull,  'who  had 

Broken  the  phalanx. 

"  '  Fence  to  the  right  of  them, 
Fence  to  the  left  of  them, 
Jones's  bull  behind  them, 

Tawing  and  bellowing. 
What  need  commands  to  tell? 
Boldly  they  ran  and  well, 

Not  one  small  private  fell. 


"  •  Out  of  the  horns  of  death, 
Sergeant  and  squad  pelhnell, 
Through  the  barbed-wire  fence 

i  'i  au'led  the  torn  column. 
When  can  their  glory  fade, 
Oh,  the  retreat  they  made, 

All  Raleigh  applauded  ! 
Honor  the  Sergeant's  feet. 
Honor  the  squad's  retreat, 

Long  be  it  lauded  !'  " 

"Guy,  that's  tine!"  ejaculated  little  Billy.  "Isn't  it, 
Dick  ?"  enthusiastically. 

"  Slickest  thing  I've  ever  heard,"  answered  Dick. 

"We  did  get  to  that  fence  quick,  and  no  mistake.  And, 
George!  I  woke  up  every  night  for  a  week  dreaming  that 
the  old  bull  was  just  running  his  horns  into  me." 

"  We'll  have  to  do  something  to  get  a  better '  rep,'  "  said 
Tommy;  "we've  done  nothing  but  retreat  so  far.  Old 
Farmer  Applegate  sent  us  flying,  when  he  had  nothing  but 
cow-hide  boots  and  a  pitchfork." 

"  It  was  his  garden,"  reflected  Fatty  Simmons ;  "  that  was 
why  I  ran." 

"Well,  what  are  we  going  to  do  to-morrow,  that's  w-hat 
I  want  to  know  .'"  said  Jack  Green. 

"I  have  it!1'  exclaimed  the  Sergeant, his  eyes  sparkling. 
"The  very  thing,  fellows!  I  heard  Davis  and  Jim  White 
talking  yesterday  (they  didn't  know  I  was  there),  and  they 
were  arranging  a  scheme  for  the  Fourth,  which  it  would 
be  dand\  tun  to  break  up." 

"  What,  was  it.  .'"  the  others  asked,  eagerly. 

"You  know  the  little  cannon  in  Mr.  Scott's  field  .'  be 
thinks  no  end  of  it;  it's. a  Revolutionary:  relic  or  Waterloo 
or  something.  Well,  those  fellows  are  going  to  steal  it  to- 
night and  have  a  great  time  to-morrow.  Five  of  them  are 
in  it." 

'•  Whew  !"  whistled  Herbert  Day.  "  I  shouldn't  like  to  be 
in  their  shoes  when  Mr.  Scott  rinds  it  out ;  he'll  make  it  hot 
for  them !  But  how's  that  going  to  help  us,  Tommy ;  we're 
not  in  it  ?" 

"  I  know ;  but  what  we  want  to  do,"  answered  the  Ser- 
geant, "  is  to  guard  the  cannon  and  spoil  their  little  game. 
It  would  be  great  to  get  ahead  of  Davis  for  once." 

''Wouldn't  they  punch  our  heads?"  said  Billy,  doubt- 
fully :  "  they're  bigger." 

••  I'd  like  to  see  them,"  blustered  Fatty  ;  "  we'd  run  them 
through  with  our  bayonets." 

"  What  time  did  they  agree  to  take  the  cannon,  Tommy  ?'' 
asked  Bert. 

"  After  dark,  about  nine,  I  suppose.  They  said  they  could 
drag  it  across  the  field  to  Davis's  barn,  and  that  noboiU 
would  catch  on." 

"What  sport!"  chuckled  Green.  "We'll  go  early,  then, 
and  form  in  single  tile  round  the  old  cannon,  and  I'd  like  to 
see  the  man  w-ho  could  take  it  from  us." 

••  Mr.  Scott  has  a  big  mastiff,  hasn't  he  ?"  asked  Billy. 

"  What  of  that  ?"  scornfully,  and  Billy  was  silenced.  The 
boys  forgot  their  heat  and  fatigue  in  their  eagerness  to  pre- 
pare for  such  a  great  undertaking,  and  over  and  over  again 
the  Sergeant's  commands  rang  out:  "Load!  squad,  ready  ! 
aim  !  Jirc  !  Order  arms !  Load !  ready  !  aim  !  recover  arms ! 
/in  .'"  etc.,  for  a  full  hour. 

At  half  past  eight  that  same  evening  the  Raleigh  Reds, 
with  fife  and  drum  silent,  marched  through  the  lane  leading 
to  Mr.  Scott's  field. 

"  Squad,  halt!"  was  the  command  when  they  reached  the 
fence'.  Then  after  a  whispered  consultation  and  a  steal!  h\ 
glance,  round,  lest  the  enemy  might  attack  them  in  the  rear, 
they  climbed  carefully  over  the  rails,  and  came  down  cau- 
tiously on  the  other  side. 

"Forward,  march!"  ordered  the  Sergeant,  and  his  squad 
started  by  twos  up  the  field. 

The  cannon  was  mounted  at  the  other  end,  and  the  shad- 
ows which  the  moon  cast  across  their  path  looked  to  the 
boys'  excited  fancy  like  figures  rising  from  the  ground. 

"A  little  faster  step — hep.  hep!"  urged  the  Sergeant,  as 
they  lagged.  "  Double  time  !"  he  commanded  ;  but  alas!  a 
low  ferocious  growl,  followed  by  a  loud  bark,  caused  a  sud- 
den panic  in  the  dauntless  Reds. 


690 


HARPEE'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"The  mastiff!"  cried  Joe  Morris;  "cut  for  your  lives!" 
"Don't  you  do  it!  Charge  bayonets!"  shouted  Tom,  dis- 
mayed by  this  breaking  of  the  close-locked  ranks.  "  About 
fare  !"  yelled  Fatty  Simmons,  assuming  the  command  in  his 
terror:  ••  quick  to  the  fence,  fellows — run  !"  and  as  the  big 
dark  object  bounded  towards  them,  the  squad  for  the  sec- 
ond time  in  its  short  history  took  to  its  heels  without 
waiting  further  orders.  Before  the  Sergeant  could  col- 
lect his  scattered  wits,  a  rough  hand  seized  him  by  the  col- 
lar, and  a  grim  voice  said,  "  I've  caught  you,  hev  I  ?  You'll 
just  come  to  Mr.  Scott,  young  man  ;  he's  waitin'  for  you." 

"Call  that  dog  oft';  he'll  chew  them  fellows  up,"  gasped 
Tommy,  trying  to  wriggle  away  from  the  tight  grip. 

••  (Sarve  'em  right  for  sneaking  in  after  dark  and  stealing 
the  old  cannon  that's  stood  here  over  a  hundred  years." 

••  \Ve  didn't  steal  it,"  said  the  indignant  Sergeant.  "  We 
came  to  guard  it  !" 

"To  guard  it!  Well,  you  didn't  have  much  luck,  then, 
for  it's  been  gone  this  half-hour.  Mr.  Scott,  he's  in  a  ter- 
rible way  about  it." 

••  My,  how  early  they  must  have  corne  !"  exclaimed  Tom. 

"They?     Who?" 

"  Why,  the  fellows  we  came  to  keep  from  taking  it." 
And  then  lie  explained  to  the  astonished  farmer. 

The  result  was  that  the  "Ealeigh  Reds"  were  recalled, 
trembling,  from  their  refuge  behind  the  rail  breastwork. 
Dom  Pedro  was  quieted  down,  and  the  demoralized  squad 
was  marched  sheepishly  to  the  house  as  prisoners  of  war  of 
the  tall  farmer. 

Mr.  Scott  interviewed  them,  and  his  anger  gave  way  to 
amusement  as  the  boys  told,  in  shamefaced  confusion,  of 
their  part  in  the  evening's  work. 

"  What  your  men  need,  Captain,  is  experience,"  he  said  ; 
"so  I  will  make  a  bargain  with  you.  If  you  manage  to 
bring  the  cannon  baclrby  twelve  o'clock  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, I  will  promise  to  furnish  the  finest  display  of  fireworks 
ever  seen  in  this  town,  to  celebrate  the  valor  of  the 
'  Ealeigh  Reds.' " 

The  boys  blushed  as  crimson  as  their  colors  at  these 
words,  but  Tom  replied,  stoutly: 

"  We'll  do  it,  Mr.  Scott.  Just  see  if  we  don't.  I  know 
we  deserve  to  be  locked  up  in  the  guard-house  for  deser- 
tion ;  but  give  us  one  more  chance,  and  if  we  can't  do  any- 
thing but  retreat,  and  in  disorder  too,  then  we'd  better 
give  up  the  soldier  business  altogether." 

And  so  Mr. Scott  clinched  the  bargain. 

How  the  little  Sergeant  racked  his  brains  that  night,  as 
he  tossed  from  side  to  side,  trying  to  hit  upon  some  plan  by 
which  they  could  get  the  field-gun  away  from  its  trium- 
phant capturers ! 

It  would  be  no  easy  matter  to  drag  the  heavy  cannon  so 
far  e\.-n  if  they  bad  a  fair  field;  but  when  it  was  held  by 
the  enemy — five  big  boys — Tommy  shook  his  head  in  doubt, 
for  he  had  no  longer  confidence  in  the  courage  ot  his  squad. 

The  more  he  thought  of  it,  the  more  he  felt  convinced 
that  the  only  thing  to  do  was  to  decoy  the  guard  in  some 
way;  but  how?  Suddenly  he  sat  up  in  bed  and  looked  out 
of  the  window.  It  was  moonlight,  and  he  could  see  some 
distance  through  the  trees  into  a  large  field  at  the  end  of 
the  garden. 

"Yes,  that  will  work,"  he  murmured.  "  I  don't  want  to 
do  it,  but  it's  the  only  thing  I  can  think  of,"  and  we'vei/oJto 
get  that  field-gun  somehow." 

So,  having  at  last  made  up  his  mind,  he  turned  over  and 
fell  asleep. 

"Fire!  fire!  fire!"  clanged  the  great  iron  bell,  putting 
all  the  toy  cannons  to  shame. 

"Fire!  fire!"  shouted  the  men  and  boys  as  they  dropped 
their  pipes  and  their  fire-crackers,  and  started  in  the  direc- 
tion from  which  a  volume  of  smoke  rose  black  and  dense 
against  the  clear  sky.  There  were  not  many  fires  in  Ra- 
leigh, and  this  looked  like  a  promising  one.  From  all  parts 
of  the  little  town  the  people  swarmed,  eager  for  any  excite- 
ment that  would  help  to  celebrate  the  holiday. 

"Now's  our  chance,"  whispered  Tommy  to  the  "Reds," 
as,  ensconced  behind  a  hedge,  they  watched  the  crowd  as- 
semble. "  We've  got  to  hustle,  for  the  tire  won't  last  long." 


"  The  fellows  are  all  there,  except  Jim  White,"  returned 
Dick,  "  and  there  be  comes,  puffing  like  a  steam-engine." 

"Then  we're  safe.  Have  you  got  the  rope  all  ready, 
Billy  ?" 

"  Yes,  slip-knot  and  all;" 

"  Then  come  on,  fellows." 

And  the  boys  east  one  lingering  glance  at  the  crackling 
flames,  the  fire-engine,  and  the  crowd,  then  turned  round 
and  started  heroically  in  the  opposite  direction.  They 
knew  well  where  the  cannon  was,  for  had  not  the  victori- 
ous party  jeered  at  them  from  the  top  of  the  shed,  when, 
they  went  to  reconnoitre  early  in  the  morning  ?  They 
looked  cautiously  over  the  gate  of  Davis's  barn-yard.  All 
was  quiet.  They  opened  the  gate,  and  walked  softly  in. 
Yes,  there  stood  tbe  bone  of  contention,  alone,  unguarded, 
its  mouth  pointed  towards  the  barn. 

"Hurry  up,  Bert;  you  understand  about  putting  on  the 
rope,"  said  the  nervous  Sergeant,  as  he  watched  the  smoke 
against  the  sky  growing  perceptibly  less. 

"They'll  suspect  us,  sure,"  replied  Joe,  "when  they  find 
we're  not  there." 

"Think  of  missing  a  fire!"  groaned  Bert ;  "and  such  a 
beauty  too !" 

By  the  time  the  boys  were  ready  to  start  the  smoke  had 
almost  died  away,  and  the  shouts  had  entirely  subsided. 

"  We  must  fight  to-day,  fellows,  or  break  up  the  com- 
pany," said  Tommy,  as  they  toiled  up  the  field  dragging 
the  gun  after  them  over  the  rough  ground. 

"  Does  Pat  Kiuuey  know  we're  coming  f"  asked  Dick. 

"  Yes  ;  and  he's  going  to  bring  Dom  Pedro  to  back  us  up," 
answered  "  Fatty,"  straining  away  on  the  rope. 

"  Lucky  for  us,"  said  Billy,  his  spirits  rising. 

Just  as  they  reached  the  end  of  the  field  where  the  can- 
non always  stood,  a  shout  from  the  fence  made  them  grasp 
their  arms  and  fall  quickly  in  line  with  bayonets  fixed. 

"  Steady !"  cried  the  Sergeant,  his  knees  beginning  to 
shake — "  steady,  fellows ;  don't  run." 

On  the  big  boys  came.  Six  or  seven  of  them,  headed  by 
Davis,  bearing  down  on  the  trembling  squad  with  yells  like 
wild  Indians. 

"  Steady,"  said  the  Sergeant  again,  and  immovable  as 
the  Inchcape  Rock  the  line  received  the  charge. 

"  Get  out  of  here  or  we'll  break  your  necks !"  cried  White, 
as  the  squad  closed  in  round  the  cannon. 

"Throw  a  pack  of  big  crackers  at  them."  said  a  rough- 
looking  boy;  "that  will  break  their  ranks,"  and  a  shower 
of  fire-crackers  followed  these  words. 

Still  the  squad  stood  firm. 

"All  right,  then,"  said  Harvey,  solemnly;  "if  you  don't 
surrender  we'll  have  to  wade  in  and  do  you  up.  Won't  we, 
Davis  .'" 

"  Yield !"  shouted  Davis,  nourishing  a  big  stick;  "the 
cannon  or  your  life !" 

"Come  on, "cried  the  undaunted  little  Sergeant,  a.-  a 
twenty-five-cent  cracker  went  oft"  under  his  nose.  "  We'll 
never  surrender !" 

"We'll  never  surrender!"  echoed  the  rest  of  the  squad, 
spurred  on  to  resistance  by  their  leader.  "Come  on!" 

And  the  next  moment  the  bayonets  were  shuttered  by 
the  charge,  the  guns  wrenched  from  the  boys' hands,  and 
down  they  went  on  the  ground  a  wriggling  mass  of  arms 
and  legs. 

It  began  to  look  very  bad  for  the  Raleigh  Reds,  when,  to 
their  great  relief,  the  reserve  force  came  up  on  a  full  gallop, 
urged  on  by  the  command  of,  "At  'em,  Pedro,  at  'em !" 

This  time  Dom  Pedro  discriminated  between  his  allies 
and  the  foe,  for  he  dashed  at  Davis  with  a  growl  that 
struck  terror  to  the  stoutest  heart. 

"Here  comes  Mr.  Scott,  boys !"  cried  White,  scrambling 
up  from  Dick's  prostrate  form ;  "  we'd  better  skip ;"  and  leav- 
ing the  still  uncouquered  squad  fighting  manfully  on  their 
backs,  the  big  boys  made  for  the  fence,  with  Dom  Pedro  in 
hot  pursuit. 

The  Reds  picked  themselves  up,  and  looked  ruefully  for 
their  scattered  arms.  They  were  pretty  well  battered  and 
broken,  but  the  cannon  was  safe. 

"  Fall  in,"  commanded  the  Sergeant,  as  Mr.  Scott  walked 
up,  holding  Pedro  by  the  collar. 


691 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"Good  for  yon.  hoys,"  he  said,  smiling ;  "you  held  your 
own  well.  I  watched  from  behind  the  fence,  and  was  de- 
lighted with  the  way  you  .stood  up  to  those  big  fellows." 

Tommy  blushed  with  pride  and  pleasure.  "They  would 
have  whipped  us,"  he  replied,  modestly,  "if  Doni  Pedro 
hadn't  scared  them  off.'' 

••At  any  rate  yon  brought  the  field-gnu  back,  and  you 
de.-i-rvf  git-at  rretlit  for  the  way  you  stuck  to  your  colors. 
But  what  is  this  that  Kiuuey  tells  me  about  setting  a  barn 
on  fire  f" 

"It  belonged  to  Tommy,"  said  the  others.  "It  was  an 
old  tool- house  which  his  father  gave  him  to  keep  our 
things  in.  It  made  a  beautiful  fire."  Regretfully. 

"  And  you  burnt  it  up  just  so  as  to  decoy  the  boys  ?"  In- 
credulously. 

"It  was  the  only  way  to  get  the  cannon,"  Tommy  an- 
swered. "  And  the  roof  leaked,  anyway." 

"  It  certainly  was  a  clever  scheme,  though  rather  a  risky 
one,"  said  Mr.  Scott. 

"  I  asked  my  father,"  Tommy  hastened  to  explain.  "And 
first  he  said  no,  we  mustn't  do  it,  but  when  I  told  him  that 
it  was  military  tactics,  and  how  we  wanted  to  prove  to  you 
that  we  were  not  such  miserable  cowards,  he  gave  in  and 
said  to  go  ahead." 

"Well,  you  certainly  have  proved  it,  and  fulfilled  your 
part  of  the  contract  with  honor,  so  now  1  want  to  do  my 
part.  So  you  may  invite  everybody  yon  want — the  whole 
town,  if  you  wish — in  my  name,  to  a  grand  exhibition  of 
fireworks  in  honor  of  the  Raleigh  Reds." 

The  little  Sergeant  beamed  from  ear  to  ear.  "  Guy  !"  he 
ejaculated,  fervently,  "what  a  slick  old  time  we'll  have!" 
Then,  turning  to  the  smiling  and  embarrassed  line,  he  cried, 
41  Squad,  salule .'"  aud  every  hand  went  up  while  the  de- 
moralized fife  and  drum  favored  Mr.  Scott  with  their  wild- 
est and  most  discordant  tones. 

Then  down  the  field  they  marched  triumphantly,  with 
torn  banner  flying,  aud  Com  Pedro  stalking  gravely  on 
ahead. 


THE   LITTLE   MINUTE-MAN. 

BY  H.  G.  PAINE. 

ALL  during  the  winter  Briutou  had  beeu  saying  what 
he  would  do  if  the  redcoats  came,  and  grieving  be- 
cause his  age,  which  was  eight,  prevented  him  from  going 
•with  his' father  to  fight  under  General  Washington. 

Every  night,  w  hen  his  mother  tucked  him  in  his  bed  aud 
kissed  him  good-night,  he  told  her  not  to  be  afraid,  that  he 
had  promised  his  father  to  protect  her,  aud  he  proposed  to 
do  it. 

His  plau  of  action,  in  event  of  the  sudden  appearance  of 
the  enemy,  varied  somewhat  from  day  to  day,  but  in  general 
outline  it  consisted  of  a  bold  show  of  force  at  the  front 
gate  and  a  flank  attack  by  Towser,  the  dog.  Should'these 
tactics  fail  to  discourage  the  British,  he  intended  to  retire 
behind  a  stone  fort  he  had  built  on  the  lawn,  between  the 
two  tall  elms,  and  to  fire  stones  at  the  invaders  until  they 
fell  back  in  confusion,  while  his  mother  would  look  on  aud 
encourage  him  from  the  front  pon-li. 

When  the  redcoats  unexpectedly  appeared  in  the  distance, 
one  afternoon  in  May.  what  Briutou  really  did  was  to  run 
helter-skelter  down  the  road,  up  the  broad  path  to  the 
house,  through  the  front  hall  into  the  library,  close  the 
door,  aud  then  peep  out  of  the  window  to  watch  them 
no  by. 

When  he  first  caught  sight  of  the  soldiers  Briutou  was 
sure  that  there  was  at  least  a  regiment  of  them,  but  when 
they  were  opposite  the  front  n;i1r  all  that  he  could  see 
•were  a  corporal  aud  three  privates.  Instead  of  keeping  on 
their  way,  however,  they  turned  up  the  path  toward  the 
house,  and  then  it  seemed  to  Briutou  that  they  were  the 
most  gigautie  human  beings  that  he  had  ever  seen. 

His  mother  was  away  for  the  day,  and  had  taken  Towser 
with  her.  This,  together  with  the  fact  that  the  enemy 
•were  now  between  him  and  his  fort,  entirely  spoiled  Brin- 
tou's  plan  of  campaign,  and  he  decided  to  seek  at  once 
some  more  secluded  spot,  and  there  to  devise  something  to 


meet  the  changed  conditions.  But  when  he  started  to  run 
out  of  the  room,  he  found  that  in  his  hurry  he  had  left  the 
front  door  open,  so  that  any  one  in  the  hall  would  be  in 
plain  sight  of  the  soldiers,  who  were  now  very  near. 

rnfiirtunately  there  was  no  other  door  by  which  Briuton 
could  leave  the  room.  What  was  worse,  there  was  no  closet 
in  which  he  could  hide.  The  soldiers  were  now  so  close  at 
hand  that  he  could  hear  their  voices,  and  a  glance  through 
the  window  showed  him  that  two  of  them  were  going 
around  to  the  back  of  the  house,  as  if  to  cut  off  any  possi- 
ble escape  in  that  direction. 

And  his  mother  would  not  be  back  until  six  o'clock.  In- 
stinctively his  eyes  sought  the  face  of  the  tall  timepiece  in 
the  corner.  It  was  just  three;  aud  he  could  hear  the  sol- 
diers' steps  on  the  front  porch ! 

The  clock! 

Surely  there  was  room  within  its  generous  case  for  a  very 
small  boy. 

In  less  time  than  it  takes  to  write  it  Brinton  was  inside, 
aud  had  turned  the  button  with  which  the  door  was  fast- 
ened. As  he  pressed  himself  close  against  the  door,  so  that 
there  should  be  room  for  the  pendulum  to  swing  behind 
him,  he  heard  the  corporal  enter  the  room.  He  knew  it 
must  be  the  corporal,  because  he  ordered  the  other  man  to 
go  np  stairs  and  look  around  there,  while  he  searched  the 
room  on  the  other  side  of  the  hall. 

Briuton  could  hear  the  footsteps  of  the  men  as  they 
walked  about  the  house,  and  their  voices  as  they  talked  to 
each  other.  Then  all  was  quiet  for  a  long  while.  He  was 
just  on  the  point  of  peeping  out,  when  all  four  men  en- 
tered the  room. 

"  \Vfll,"  said  a  voice  that  he  recognized  as  the  corporal's, 
"it  is  plain  there  is  no  one  at  'ome.  Me  own  himpressiou 
is  that  the  bird's  flown.  'E's  probably  started  back  for 
camp,  aud  the  wife  and  the  kid  with  Mm.  I  don't  believe 
in  payink  no  hattentiou  to  Vat  them  Tories  says,  nohow, 
goiuk  back  on  their  own  neighbors — and  kin,  too,  like  as 
not.  It's  just  to  curry  favor  with  the  hofncers,  it's  me  own 
hopiuiou.  'Ow  did  'e  know  the  Major  was  comiuk  'ome 
to-day,  anyhow  ?" 

Nobody  answered  him.  Perhaps  he  didn't  expect  any 
one  to. 

The  Major!  Briutou's  own  father!  He  was  coming 
home!  This,  then,  was  the  surprise  that  his  mother  had 
said  she  would  bring  him  when  she  went  off  with  Towser 
in  the  morning  to  go  to  Colonel  Shepard's.  And  now  those 
redcoats  were  going  to  sit  there  aud  wait  until  he  came,  and 
then — Briutou  did  uot  know  what  would  happen,  whether 
he  would  be  shot  on  the  spot,  or  merely  put  in  prison  for 
the  rest  of  his  life. 

Oh,  if  he  could  only  get  out  and  run  to  meet  his  father 
aud  warn  him !  But  the  men  seemed  to  give  no  signs  of 
leaving  the  room. 

"Prehaps  he  haven't  come  at  all  yet,"  suggested  one  of 
the  privates. 

"  Perhaps  'e  hasn't,"  answered  the  voice  of  the  corporal ; 
"but  w'y,  then,  wouldn't  his  folks  be  'ere  a-waitink  for 
'im  ?  'Owever,  I'll  give  'im  hevery  chance.  It's  now  five- 
and-twenty  minutes  after  three.  I'll  give  'im  huutil  six, 
but  if 'e  doesn't  turn  hup  by  theu,  we'll  start  away  for  the 
shore  without  'im." 

"Six  o'clock!"  thought  the  boy  in  the  clock.  The  very 
time  his  mother  had  told  him  she  was  going  to  be  home 
again  "  with  something  very  nice  for  him."  And  now  she 
aud  his  brave  papa  would  walk  right  into  the  arms  of 
these  dreadful  English  soldiers,  and  he  could  not  stop 
them  ! 

11'lniiiy  .' 

What  a  noise!  It  startled  Briuton  so  much  that  he 
nearly  knocked  the  clock  over;  aud  then  he  realized  that 
it  was  only  the  clock  striking  half  past  three. 

Half  past  three!  He  had  beeu  in  there  only  half  an 
hour,  aud  already  he  was  so  tired  he  could  hardly  stand 
up.  How  could  he  ever  endure  it  until  four,  until  half 
past  four,  five,  six  ? 

••  It'  ouly  something,  some  accident  even,  will  happen  to 
detain  papa  aud  mamma!"  he  thought.  But  how  much 
more  likely,  it  occurred  to  him,  that  his  father,  having  but 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


a  short  leave  of  absence,  would  hasten,  and 
arrive  before  six. 

"  Tick-took,"  went  the  clock. 

"  Ho\v  slow,  how  very  slow!1'  thought 
Briutou,  and  he  wished  there  were  only 
some  way  of  hurrying  up  the  time,  so  that 
tbe  soldiers  would  go  away. 

Still  the  soldiers  staid  in  the  room,  all 
but  one,  who  had  gone  into  the  kitchen  to 
watch  from  there. 

"Tick-tock,"  went  the  clock,  and 
"  whang  -  whang  -  whaug  -  whang  !"  Only 
four  o'clock.  Briutou  began  to  fear  that 
he  could  not  hold  out  much  longer. 

"  Tick  -  tock,"  went  the  clock.  Each 
swing  of  the  pendulum  marked  one  second, 
Brinton's  mother  had  told  him.  If  he  could 
only  make  it  swing  quicker,  so  that  the 
seconds  would  fly  a  little  faster! 

"  Why  not  try  to  ?"  Briutou  was  on  the 
point  of  breaking  down.  He  was  desper- 
ate. He  felt  that  he  must  do  something. 
He  took  hold  of  the  pendulum  and  gave  it 
a  little  push.  It  yielded  readily  to  his 
pressure.  None  of  the  soldiers  seemed  to 
notice  it.  He  gave  it  another  push.  The 
result  was  the  same.  Briutou  began  to 
pick  up  courage,  and  he  pushed  the  pen- 
dulum to  and  fro,  to  and  fro,  to  and  fro. 

He  tried  to  keep  it  swinging  at  a  perfect- 
ly even  rate,  and  apparently  lie  succeeded. 
At  any  rate,  the  soldiers  appeared  to  notice 
nothing  different.  Yet  Briutou  was  sure 
that  he  was  causing  the  old  clock  to  tick 
off  its  seconds  at  a  considerably  livelier 
gait  than  usual.  Half  past  four  came  al- 
most before  he  knew  it,  but  by  five  o'clock 
Briutou  began  to  realize  that  he  was  vrry, 
very  tired.  He  had  already  stood  absolutr- 
ly  still  iu  that  cramped,  dark,  close  case', 
and  he  had  pushed  the  pendulum  first  with 
one  hand  and  then  with  the  other  in  that 
narrow  space  until  both  felt  sore  and  lame. 
Yet  now  that  he  had  once  begun,  he  did 
not  dare  leave  off,  and  still  it  did  not  seem 
possible  that  he  could  keep  it  up. 

The  soldiers  had  kept  very  quiet  for  a  long  time. 
ton  thought  that  two  of  them  must  be  napping. 

At  five  o'clock  the  soldier  who  was  awake  aroused  the 
corporal  and  the  other  private,  whom  the  corporal  seut  to 
relieve  the  man  on  guard  in  the  kitcheu. 

"  I  must  'ave  slept  mighty  sound,"  remarked  the  cor- 
poral. "I'd  never  believe  I'd  been  asleep  an  hour,  if  I 
didn't  see  it  hon  the  clock." 

"No  soigus  av  any  wan  yit,"  reported  the  man  who  had 
been  iu  the  kitchen,  whom  Brinton  judged  to  be  an  Irish- 
man. "  Be's  ye  going  to  wait  till  six  ?" 

"Yes,  "  answered  the  corporal.      "But,  no  longer." 

Then  they  began  talking  about  the  British  fleet  that  was 
cruising  in  Long  Island  Sound,  aud  about  the  ship  on  which 
they  were  temporarily  quartered  until  they  could  .join  the 
main  body  of  the  army,  and  how  a  neighbor  of  Brinton's 
father's  aud  mother's  had  been  down  at  the  store  when  a 
ship's  boat  had  put  in  for  water,  and  how  he  had  told  the 
officer  in  charge  that  Major  Hall,  Briutou's  father,  was  ex- 
pected home  for  a  few  hours  that  day.  and  what  a  fine  op- 
portuuity  it  would  be  to  make  an  important  capture. 

The  clock  struck  half  past  live. 

"  H'm !''  grunted  the  corporal.  "It  doesn't  seem  that 
late;  but,  you  know,  you  can't  tell  anythiuk  about  auy- 
think  in  this  blaisted  country." 

Briuton  now  began  to  be  very  much  afraid  that  his  fa- 
ther would  come  before  the  soldiers  left.  He  wanted  to 
move  the  pendulum  faster  aud  faster,  but  after  what  the 
corporal  had  said  he  did  not  dare  to.  Then,  when  the.  men 
lapsed  into  silence,  it  suddenly  came  over  Brinton  how 
dreadfully  weary  be  was,  how  all  his  boues  ached,  and  how 
much,  how  very  much,  he  wanted  to  cry.  But  he  felt  that 


Brin- 


THE    MINUTE-MAN    TAKES    HIS    POSITION. 

his  father's  only  chance  of  safety  lay  in  his  keeping  the 
pendulum  swinging  to  and  fro,  to  aud  fro. 

At  last,  however,  came  the  welcome  sound  of  the  corpo- 
ral's voice  bidding  the  men  get  ready  to  start. 

Whang- whaug- whang- whaug- whang- whang! 

"  Fall  iu  !"  ordered    the   corporal.      "  Forward,  march  !" 

As  the  sound  of  their  footsteps  died  away,  Briutou,  all  of 
a  tremble, opened  the  door  of  the  clock  aud  stumbled  out. 
He  knelt  at  the  window  and  watched  the  retreating 
forms  of  the  redcoats.  As  they  disappeared  down  the  road 
he  heard  a  noise  behind  him,  aud  jumped  up  with  a  start. 

There  stood  his  father! 

The  uext  instant  Briuton  was  sobbing  iu  his  arms. 

Brinton's  mother  came  into  the  room.  "Dear  rue!"  she 
said;  "what  ever  can  be  the  matter  with  the  clock?  It's 
half  au  hour  fast." 


SNOW-SHOES    AND    SLEDGES.* 

BY     KIRK     M  U  X  R  O  E. 

CHAPTER    XXXVII. 
BIG   AMOOK   AND  THE   CHILKAT    HUNTERS. 

A  GOAT  is  a  good  thing  so  far  as  it  goes."  remarked 
Phil,  gravely,  "  but  one   goat   divided   among  one 
man,  two  boys,  a 'little   chap,  and   three  awfully  hungry 
dogs  isn't  likely  to  last  very  long.     With  plenty  of  goats 
ready  to  come  and  be  killed  as  we  wanted  them,  we  might 
hold  out  here,  after  a  fashion,  until  the  arrival  of  a  tourist 
*  Begun  in  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  No.  801. 


690 


HAKPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


steamer.  Wouldn't  that  be  fun,  though  ?  And -wouldn't 
we  astonish  the  tourists?  «But  how  we  should  hate  goat 
by  that  time!  Still,  I  don't  think  there  is  the  slightest 
chance  of  our  having  that,  experience,  for  I  understand 
that  the,  mountain-goats  are  among  the  shyest  and  most 
difficult  to  kill  of  all  wild  animals. 

"Which  being  the  case,"  continued  Phil,  "it  won't  do 
I'"]-  us  to  lire  as  though  we  had  goats  to  squander.  Conse- 
quently, we  must  make  an  effort  to  get  out  of  here  before 
our  provision  is  exhausted.  As  we  have  no  boat  in  which 
to  go  to  Sitka,  and  the  nearest  point  at  which  we  can  ob- 
tain one  is  Chilkat.  that  is  the  place  we  .have  got  to  reach 
somehow.  So  I  propose  that  Serge  and  I  take  a  prospect- 
ing trip  into  the  mountains  to-morrow  and  see  what  chance 
there  is  for  onr  crossing  them." 

As  no  better  plan  than  this  was  offered,  Phil  and  Serge 
started  early  the  following  morning  on  their  tedious  climb. 
Each  carried  a  gun,  and  they  took  Musky  and  Luvtuk  with 
them  in  the  hope  of  getting  a  bear,  as  Serge  had  heard  that 
bears  were  plentiful  in  those  mountains.  Nel-te  was  left 
to  takc>  care  of  the  hospital,  in  which  Jalap  Coombs,  with 
Ins  many  aches,  and  Amook,  with  his  cut  feet,  were  the 
patients. 

That  afternoon  was  so  warm  that  the  door  of  the  little 
cabin  stood  wide  open.  Before  a  fire  that  smouldered  on  the 
broad  hearth  Jalap  Coombs  dozed  in  a  big  chair,  while 
Nel-te  romped  with  Amook  on  the  floor.  Now  the  little 
chap  was  tantalizing  the  dog  with  the  fur-seal's  tooth, 
which,  still  attached  to  its  buckskin  thong,  he  had  taken 
from  his  neck.  He  would  dangle  it  close  to  Amook's  nose, 
and  when  the  dog  snapped  at  it, snatch  it  away  with  a 
shout,  of  laughter. 

While  the  occupants  of  the  cabin  were  thus  engaged  the 
heads  of  several  Indians  were  suddenly  but  cautiously 
lifted  above  the  beach  ridge.  After  making  certain  that 
no  one  was  in  the  vicinity  of  the  bouse,  one  of  their  num- 
ber swiftly  but  noiselessly  approached  it.  Crouching  un- 
der a  side  wall,  he  slowly  raised  his  head. 

This  Indian  was  one  of  a  party  of  Chilkat  hunters  who 
had  come  to  Glacier  Bay  in  pursuit  of  hair  seals,  which  iu 
the  early  spring  delight  to  float  lazily  about  on  the  drift- 
ing ice-cakes.  They  had  camped  at  the  mouth  of  Muir 
Inlet  the  night  before,  and  during  the  day  had  slowly 
hunted  tbeir  way  almost  to  the  foot  of  the  great  glacier. 
While  there  they  discovered  a  thin  spiral  of  smoke  curling 
from  the  cabin  chimney.  This  so  aroused  their  curiosity 
that  they  determined  to  investigate  its  cause.  They  im- 
agined that  some  of  the  interior  Indians,  who  were  strictly 
forbidden  by  the  Chilkats  to  visit  the  coast,  had  disobeyed 
orders,  and  come  to  this  unfrequented  place  to  surrepti- 
tiously gather  in  a  few  seals.  In  that  case  the  hunters 
would  immediately  declare  war,  and  the  prospect  of  scalps 
caused  their  stolid  faces  to  light  and  their  dull  eyes  to 
glitter. 

When  it  was  discovered  that  a  white  man  was  in  the 
cabin,  the  Indians  were  greatly  disappointed,  but  concluded 
to  withdraw  without  allowing  him  to  suspect  their  presence, 
for  the  Chilkats  have  no  love,  for  white  men.  But  for 
Nel-te  and  Amook  they  would  have  succeeded  in  this,  and 
our  travellers  would  never  have  known  of  their  dusky  visi- 
tors, or  the  chance  for  escape  offered  by  their  canoes. 

If  the  fur-seal's  tooth  had  been  able  to  speak  just  then, 
it  would  have  said,  "  I  am  disgusted  with  the  ways  of  white 
people.  In  their  hands  I  am  treated  with  no  respect. 
They  lose  nir  and  find  me  again  with  indifference.  They 
even  give  me  to  children  and  dogs  as  a  plaything.  How 
different  was  my  position  among  the  noble  Chilkats!  By 
their  Shamans  and  chiefs  I  was  venerated ;  by  the  common 
people  I  was  feared:  while  all  recognized  my  extraordi- 
nary powers.  To  them  I  am  determined  to  return." 

With  this  the  fur-seal's  tooth,  which  was  at  that  mo- 
ment dangling  from  Nel-te's  hand,  gave  itself  such  a  vig- 
orous forward  swing,  that  Amook  was  able  to  seize  the 
buckskin  thong,  which  immediately  slipped  into  a  secure 
place  between  two  of  his  sharp  teeth.  As  Nel-te  attempted 
to  snatch  back  his  plaything,  the  dog  sprang  up  and  darted 
from  the  open  doorway. 

At  that  moment  the  Indian  who  had  inspected  the  cabin 


was  just  disappearing  over  the  beach  ridge.  At  sight  of 
him  Amook  uttered  a  yelp,  and  started  in  pursuit.  The 
Indian  heard  him,  and  ran.  He  sprang  into  the  canoe,  al- 
ready occupied  by  his  fellows,  and  shoved  it  oft"  as  Amook, 
barking  furiously,  gained  the  water's  edge.  Lying  a  few 
feet  away,  and  resting  on  their  paddles,  the  Indians  taunted 
him.  Suddenly  one  of  their  number  called  attention  to 
the  curious  white  object  dangling  from  the  dog's  mouth. 
They  gazed  at  it  with  ever -increasing  excitement,  and 
finally  one  of  them  began  to  load  his  gun  with  the  inten- 
tion of  shooting  the  dog,  and  so  securing  the  coveted  trophy 
that  so  miraculously  appeared  hanging  from  his  jaws.  Ere 
he  co'uld  carry  out  his  cruel  intention  little  Nel-te  appeared 
over  the  ridge  in  hot  pursuit  of  his  playmate.  Without 
paying  the  slightest  heed  to  the  Indians  he  ran  to  the  dog, 
disengaged  the  buckskin  thong  from  his  teeth,  slipped  it 
over  his  own  head,  tucked  the  tooth  carefully  inside  his 
little  parka,  and  started  back  toward  the  cabin.  Amook 
followed  him,  while  the  Indians  regarded  the  whole  trans- 
action with  blank  amazement. 

Both  Nel-te  and  Amook  regained  the  cabin,  and  were  en- 
gaged in  another  romp  on  its  floor  before  Jalap  Coombs 
awoke  from  his  nap.  An  hour  later,  when  he  was  sur- 
prised by  the  appearance  of  half  a  dozen  Indians  before, 
the  door,  he  thrust  the  child  and  dog  behind  him,  and 
standing  in  the  opening,  axe  in  hand,  boldly  faced  the  new- 
comers. Iu  vain  did  they  talk,  shout,  point  to  Nel-te,  and 
gesticulate.  The  only  idea  they  conveyed  to  the  sailor- 
man  was  that,  they  had  come  to  carry  Cap'u  Kid  back  to 
the  wilderness. 

"  Which  ye  sha'u't  have  him,  ye  bloody  pirates!  Not  so 
long  as  old  Jalap  can  swing  an  axe !"  he  cried,  at  length 
wearied  of  their  vociferations  and  slamming  the  door  in 
their  faces. 

In  spite  of  this  the  Indians  were  so  determined  to  attain 
their  object,  that  they  were  planning  for  an  attack  on  the 
cabin,  when  all  at  once  there  came  a  barking  of  other  dogs, 
and,  looking  in  that  direction,  they  saw  two  more  white 
men,  armed  with  guns,  coining  rapidly  toward  them. 

"Hello  iu  the  house!  Are  you  safe?  What  is  the 
meaning  of  this  ?"  cried  Phil,  in  front  of  the  closed  door. 

"Ay,  ay,  sir!"  replied  Jalap -Coombs,  joyfully,  flinging 
it  open.  "  We're  safe  enough  so  far ;  but  them  black 
swabs  overhauled  us  awhile  ago,  and  gave  out  as  how 
they'd  got  to  have  Cap'n  Kid.  I  double-shotted  the  guns, 
stationed  the  crew  at  quarters,  and  returned  reply  that 
they  couldn't  have  him ;  then  they  run  up  the  black-flag 
and  allowed  they'd  blow  the  ship  out  of  water.  With 
that  I  declined  to  hold  further  communication,  cleared  for 
action,  and  prepared  to  repel  boarders." 

In  the  mean  time  Serge  was  talking  to  the  natives  in 
Chinook  jargon.  .Suddenly  he  exclaimed  : 

"  They  are  Chilkats,  Phil,  and  they  want  something  that 
they  seem  to  think  is  in  Nel-te's  possession." 

"  In  Nel-te's  possession  F  repeated  Phil,  in  a  puzzled  tone. 
•'What  can  they  mean?  I  don't  see  how  they  can  know 
anything  about  Nel-te,  anyway.  They  can't,  mean  the  fur- 
seal's  tooth,  can  they?" 

"That  is  exactly  what  they  do  mean  !"  replied  Serge. 
after  asking  the  natives  a  few  more  questions.  "They  say 
it  is  hanging  about  his  neck,  inside  of  his  parka." 

"How  long  have  these  people  been  here,  Mr.  ('  >oml>s  ?" 
queried  Phil. 

"  Not  more  'n  ten  minutes." 

"  Have  they  seen  Nel-te  ?" 

"No,  for  he  hain't  been  outside  the  door." 

"  Could  they  have  seen  him  at  any  time  during  the  day  .'" 

"Not  without  me  knowing  it;  for  he  hain't  left  my  side, 
sence  you  boys  went  away." 

"  Then  it  is  more  certain  than  ever  that  there  is  magic 
connected  with  the  fur-seal's  tooth,  and  that  the  Chilkats 
are  iu  some,  way  involved  in  it.  How  else  could  they  pos- 
sibly have  known  that  it  was  in  onr  possession,  just  where 
to  find  us,  and,  above  all,  the  exact  position  of  the  tooth  at 
this  moment  ?" 

"  It  surely  does  look  ridicerlous,"  meditated  Jalap 
Coombs  ;  while  Serge  said  he  was  glad  Phil  was  becoming 
so  reasonable  and  willing  to  see  things  in  a  true  light. 


094 


HAKPEE'S  BOUND   TABLE 


"How  did  these  fellows  get  here  ?''  asked  Phil. 

"  They  say  they  came  iu  cauoes,"  replied  Serge. 

"  Ask  them  if  they  will  take  us  to  Sitka,  provided  we 
will  give  them  the  fur-seal's  tooth." 

"Xn :  the  Indians  could  uot  do  that." 

"  Will  they  give  us  a  canoe  in  exchange  for  it?" 

"  They  say  they  will,"  replied  Serge,  "  if  we  will  go  with 
them  to  their  village  aud  allow  their  Shamau  (medicine- 
man) to  examine  the  tooth,  and  see  whether  or  not  it  is  the 
genuine  article." 

••  \Vcm't  that  be  awfully  out  of  our  way  f" 

"Yes.  I  should  think  about  seventy-five  miles;  but 
then  we  may  find  a  steamer  there  that  will  take  us  to 
Juueau,  or  even  to  Sitka  itself." 

"  It  would  certainly  he  better  than  staying  here,"  re- 
flected Phil.  "  And  I  know  that  neither  Serge  nor  I  want 
to  try  the  mountain  trail  again  after  what  we  have  seen 
to-day.  So  I  vote  for  going  to  Chilkat." 

"  So  do  I,"  assented  Serge. 

"  Same  here,"  said  Jalap  Coombs  ;  "  though  ef  anybody 
lind  told  me  half  an  hour  ago  I'd  been  shipping  for  a 
cruise  along  with  them  black  pirates  before  supper-time, 
I'd  sartainly  doubted  him.  It  only  goes  to  prove  what  my 
old  friend  Kite  Roberson  useter  say,  which  were,  'Them  as 
don't  expect  nothing  is  oftenest  surprised.'" 

CHAPTER     XXXVIII. 
THE  THEACHEROUS   SHAMAN   OF   KLUKWAN. 

So  delighted  were  the  Chilkat  hunters  to  know  that  they 
were  to  have  the  honor  of  conveying  the  fur-seal's  tooth 
back  to  their  tribe,  that  they  wished  to  start  at  once.  The 
whites,  however,  refused  to  go  before  morning,  and  so  the 
Indians  returned  down  the  inlet  to  their  camp  of  the  pre- 
ceding night,  where  they  would  cache  what  seals  they  had 
obtained  in  order  to  make  room  iu  the  cauoes  for  their  un- 
expected passengers.  They  agreed  to  be  back  by  day- 
light. 

After  they  were  gone,  aud  our  travellers  had  disposed  of 
their  simple  but  highly  appreciated  meal  of  goat  meat  aud 
tea,  they  gathered  about  the  fire  for  the  last  of  those 
"  dream-bag  talks,"  as  Phil  called  them,  that  had  formed  so 
pleasant  a  feature  of  their  long  journey.  Without  saying  a 
word,  but  with  a  happy  twinkle  in  his  eyes,  Jalap  Coombs 
produced  a  pipe  and  a  small  square  of  tobacco,  which  he 
began  with  great  care  to  cut  into  shavings. 

"  Where  on  earth  did  you  get  tlirni?''  asked  Phil. 

"Found  the  pipe  in  yonder  rubbish,"  replied  the  sailor- 
man  :  ''and  C'ap'n  Kid  give  me  the  'baccy  just  now." 

"  Nel-te  gave  you  the  tobacco!     Where  did  be  get  it  ?" 

"  Dunuo.     I  were  too  glad  to  get  it  to  ask  questions." 

"  Well,"  said  Phil,  "  the  mysteries  of  this  place  are  be- 
yond finding  out." 

"This  one  isn't,"  laughed  Serge;  "though  I  suppose  it 
would  be  if  I  hadn't  happened  to  see  one  of  the  Indians 
slip  that  bit  <>('  toliarro  into  Xel-te's  hand." 

"What  could  have  been  his  object  iu  giving  such  a 
thing  as  that  to  a  child  ?" 

"  Oh,  the  Chilkat  children  use  it  as  well  as  their  elders  ; 
aud  I  suppose  he  wanted  to  gain  Nel-te's  good-will,  seeing 
that  he  is  the  guardian  of  the  fur-seal's  tooth.  I  shouldn't 
be  surprised  if  he  hoped  in  some  way  t.o  get  it  from  the 
child  before  we  reached  the  village." 

••  Which  suggests  an  idea,"  said  Phil,  removing  the 
trinket  in  question  from  Nel-te's  neck  and  handing  it  to 
Serge.  "  It  is  hard  to  say  just  who  the  tooth  does  belong- 
to  now,  it  has  changed  hands  so  frequently,  but  it  will  be 
safer  for  the  next  day  or  two  with  you  than  anywhere  else. 
Besides,  it  is  only  fair  that,  as  it  came  directly  from  the 
Chilkats  to  you,  or,  rather,  to  your  father,  you  should  have 
the  satisfaction  of  restoring  it  to  them." 

So  Serge  accepted  from  Phil  the  mysterious  bit  of  ivory 
that  he  had  given  the  latter  more  than  a  year  before  in 
distant  New  London,  and  hung  it  about  his  neck. 

"Last  night,"  said  Phil,  after  this  transfer  had  taken 
place,  "Mr.  Coombs  and  I  only  needed  a  pipeful  of  tobacco 
and  a  knowledge  of  how  we  were  to  escape  from  here  to 
make  us  perfectly  happy.  Now  we  have  both." 


"The  blamed  pipe  won't  draw  at  all,"  growled  Jalap 
Coombs. 

"While  I,"  continued  Phil,  "am  bothered.  I  know  we 
must  go  4vith  those  fellows,  but  I  don't  trust  them,  and 
shall  feel  uneasy  so  long  as  we  are  iu  their  power." 

"Do  you  think,"  asked  Serge,  "that  these  things  go  to 
prove  that  there  isn't  any  such  thing  in  this  world  as  per- 
fect happiness?" 

"No,"  answered  Phil;  "only  that  it  is  extremely  rare. 
How  is  it  with  you,  old  man?  Does  the  approaching  end 
of  our  journey  promise  you  perfect  happiness?" 

"No  indeed!"  cried  Serge,  vehemently.  "  In  spite  of  its 
hardships,  I  have  enjoyed  it  too  much  to  be  glad  that  it  is 
nearly  ended.  But  most  of  all,  Phil,  is  the  fear  that  its 
end  means  a  parting  from  you  ;  for  I  suppose  you  will  go 
right  on  to  San  Francisco,  while  I  must  stay  behind." 

"I'm  afraid  so,"  admitted  Phil.  "  But,  at  any  rate, old 
fellow,  this  journey  has  given  me  one  happiness  that  will 
last  as  long  as  I  live,  for  it  has  given  me  your  friendship, 
and  taught  me  to  appreciate  it  at  its  true  worth." 

"Thank  you.  Phil,"  replied  Serge,  simply.  "I  value 
those  words  from  you  more  than  I  should  from  any  one 
else  in  the  world.  Now,  I  want  to  tell  you  what  I  have  to 
thank  the  journey  for  besides  a  friendship.  I  believe  it 
has  shown  me  what  is  to  be  my  life-work.  You  know  that 
missionary  at  Auvik  said  he  was  more  in  need  of  teachers 
than  anything  else.  While  I  don't  know  very  much,  I  do 
know  more  than  those  Indian  and  Eskimo  boys,  and  I  did 
enjoy  teaching  them.  So,  if  I  can  get  my  mother  to  con- 
sent, I  am  going  back  to  Anvik  as  soon  as  I  can  and  offer 
my  services  as  a  teacher." 

"It  is  perfectly  splendid  of  you  to  think  of  it,"  cried 
Phil,  heartily,  "and  all  I  can  say  is  that  the  boys  who  get 
you  for  a  teacher  are  to  be  envied." 

So  late  did  the  lads  sit  up  that  night  talking  over  their 
plans  and  hopes  that  on  the  following  morning  the  Indians 
had  arrived  and  were  clamorous  for  them  to  start  before 
they  were  fairly  awake.  By  sunrise  they,  together  with 
the  three  dogs,  were  embarked  in  a  great  long-beaked  and 
marvellously  -  carved  Chilkat  canoe,  hewn  from  a  single 
cedar  log,  and  painted  black.  Two  of  the  Indians  occupied 
it  with  them,  while  the  others  and  the  sledge  went  iu  a 
second  but  smaller  canoe  of  the  same  ungraceful  design  as 
the  first. 

As  with  sail  set  and  before,  the  brisk  north  breeze  that 
ever  sweeps  down  the  glacier  the  cauoes  sped  away  among 
the  ice  floes  and  bergs  of  the  inlet,  our  boys  cast  many  a 
lingering  backward  glance  at  the  little  cabin  that  had 
proved  such  a  haven  to  them,  aud  at  the  stupendous  ice- 
wall  gleaming  in  frozen  splendor  on  their  hori/on.  Under 
other  conditions  they  would  gladly  have  staid  and  ex- 
plored its  mysteries.  Now  they  rejoiced  at  leaving  it. 

So  favoring  were  the  winds  that  they  left  Glacier  Bay, 
passrd  Icy  Strait,  and  headed  northward  as  far  as  the 
mouth  of  Lynn  Canal  before  sunset  of  that  day.  During 
the  second  day  they  ran  the  whole  fifty-mile  length  of  the 
canal,  which  is  the  grandest  of  Alaska's  rock-walled  fiords, 
entered  Chilkat  Inlet,  passed  the  canneries  at  Pyramid 
Harbor  and  Chilkat,  which  would  not  be  opened  until  the 
beginning  of  the  salmon  season  in  June,  entered  the 
river,  and  finally  reached  Klnkwan,  the  principal  Chilkat 
village. 

Here,  as  the  smaller  canoe  had  preceded  them  and  au- 
uouuced  their  coming,  our  travellers  were  welcomed  by  the 
entire  population  of  the  village.  These  thronged  the  beach 
in  a  state  of  wildest  excitement,  for  it  was  known  to  all 
that  the  long-lost  fur-seal's  tooth  was  at  last  come  back  to 
them.  Even  the  village  dogs  were  there,  a  legion  of  snarl- 
ing, flea-bitten  curs.  Ere  the  canoe  touched  the  beach, 
Musky,  Luvtuk,  and  big  Amook  were  among  them,  and  a 
battle  was  in  progress  that  completely  drowned  the  cries 
of  the  spectators  with  its  uproar.  The  fighting  was  con- 
tinued with  only  brief  intervals  throughout  the  night ;  but 
in  the  morning  the  three  champions  from  the  Yukon  were 
masters  of  the  situation,  and  roamed  the  village  with  bushy 
tails  proudly  curled  over  their  backs,  and  without  inter- 
ference. "For  all  the  world,"  said  Phil,  "like  the  Three 
Musketeers." 


695 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


THEY    WERE    WELCOMED    BY    THE    ENTIRE    POPULATION    OF    KLUKWAN. 


The  guests  of  tbe  village  -were  escorted  to  the  conncil- 
house,  to  which  were  alsn  taken  their  belongings.  Here 
they  were  supplied  with  venison,  salmon,  partridges,  and 
dried  berries  ;  and  here,  after  supper,  they  received  many 
visitors  all  anxious  for  a  sight  of  the  magic  tooth.  Most 
prominent  of  these  were  the  head  Shaman  of  the  village, 
and  the  principal  woman  of  the  tribe,  whose  name  was  so 
unpronounceable  that  Phil  called  her  "The  Princess,"  a' 
title  with  which  she  seemed  well  pleased. 

She  was  the  widow  of  Kloh-kutz,  most  famous  of  Chilkat 
chiefs,  and  the  one  who  had  presented  the  fur-seal's  tooth 
to  Serge  Belcofsky's  father.  On  the  occasion  of  this  visit 
she  wore  a  beautifully  embroidered  dress,  together  with  a 
Chilkat  blanket  of  exquisite  fineness  thrown  over  her 
shoulders  like  a  shawl,  and  fastened  at  the  throat  with  a 
stout  safety-pin.  The  Princess  devoted  herself  to  Serge, 
whom  she  evidently  considered  the  most  important  person 
iu  the  party,  and  to  little  Nel-te,  who  took  to  her  at  once. 
While  she  pronounced  the  fur-seal's  tooth  to  be  the  same 
that  had  belonged  to  her  husband,  the  Shaman  shook  his 
head  doubtfully.  Then  it  was  handed  from  one  to  another 
of  a  number  of  lesser  Shamans  and  chiefs  for  inspection. 
Suddenly  one  of  these  dropped  it  to  the  floor,  and,  when 
search  was  made,  it  could  not  be  found. 

Phil  was  furious  at  the  impudence  of  this  trick.  Even 
Serge  was  indignant,  while  Jalap  Coombs  said  it  was  just 
what  might  be  expected  from  land  sharks  and  pirates. 

The  Shaman  insisted  that  the  tooth  was  not  lost,  but  had 
disappeared  of  its  own  accord.  If  it  were  not  the  same 
fur-seal's  tooth  that  belonged  to  their  tribe  in  former  years, 
it  would  not  be  seen  again.  If  it  were,  it  would  appear 
within  a  few  days  attached  to  a  hideously  carved  repre- 
sentation of  Hutle,  the  thunder-bird  that  stood  in  one  of 
Kloh-kutz's  houses,  now  used  as  a  place  for  incantation. 

"We  don't  care  anything  about  all  that!"  exclaimed 
Phil,  when  this  was  translated  to  him.  "Tell  him  he  can 
do  as  he  pleases  with  the  tooth,  so  long  as  he  gives  us  the 
canoe  we  have  bargained  for.1' 


To  this  the  Sha- 
man replied  that 
they  should  sure- 
ly have  a  canoe  as 
soon  as  the  tooth 
proved  its  gen- 
uineness by  re- 
appearing. Iii 
the  mean  time, 
if  they  were  ^u 
such  a  hurry  to 
get  away  that 
they  did  not  care 
to  wait,  he  had 
a  very  fiue  canoe 
that  he  would  let 
them  have  at  once 
in  exchange  for 
their  guns  and 
their  dogs.  "  You 
may  tell  him  that 
we  will  wait,"  re- 
plied Phil,  grimly, 
"  but  you  ueed 
riot  tell  him  what 
is  equally  true 
that  we  shall 
only  wait  until  we 
find  a  chance  to 
help  ourselves  to 
the  best  canoe 
and  take  French 
leave." 

So  they  waited, 
though  very  im- 
patiently,in  Kink- 
wan  for  nearly 
a  week,  during 
which  time  Phil 
had  ample  op- 
portunities for  studying  Chilkat  architecture  and  totem 
poles.  The  houses  of  the  village  were  all  built  of  heavy 
hewn  planks  set  on  end.  They  had  bark  or  plank  roofs, 
with  a  square  opening  in  each  for  the  egress  of  smoke.  Many 
of  tin-in  had  glass  windows  and  ordinary  doors;  but  iu 
others  the  doors  were  placed  so  high  from  the  ground  as  to 
be  reached  by  ladders  on  both  outside  and  inside.  The 
great  totem  poles  that  stood  before  every  house  were  ten, 
twenty,  or  thirty  feet  tall,  and  covered  with  heraldic  carv- 
ings from  bottom  to  top. 

During  this  time  of  waiting  the  Shaman  made  repeated 
oft'ers  to  sell  the  strangers  a  canoe,  all  of  which  were  indig- 
nantly declined.  That  they  did  not  appropriate  one  to 
their  own  use  was  for  the  very  simple  reason  that  all,  ex- 
cept a  few  very  small  or  leaky  canoes,  mysteriously  disap- 
peared from  the  village  that  first  night. 

At  length  the  tricky  medicine-man  was  forced  to  yield 
to  the  threats  of  the  Princess,  who  had  taken  the  part  of 
our  travellers  from  the  first,  and  to  popular  clamor.  He 
therefore  announced  one  evening  that  he  had  been  informed 
during  a  vision  that  the  fur-seal's  tooth  would  reappear 
among  them  on  the  morrow. 

On  the  following  morning  Phil  and  his  companions  were 
aroused  by  a  tremendous  shouting  and  firing  of  guns,  all  of 
which  announced  that  the  happy  event  had  taken  place. 
"Now,"  cried  Phil,  "  perhaps  we  will  get  our  canoe." 
But  there  were  no  canoes  to  be  seen  on  the  beach,  and 
the  Shaman  coolly  informed  them  that,  though  the  precious 
tooth  had  indeed  come  back  to  dwell  with  the  Chilkats, 
they  would  still  be  obliged  to  wait  until  some  of  the  canoes 
returned  from  the  hunting  expeditions  on  which  they  had 
all  been  taken. 

At  this  Phil  fell  into  such  a  rage  that,  regardless  of  con- 
sequences, he  was  on  the  point  of  giving  the  old  fraud  a 
most  beautiful  thrashing,  when  his  uplifted  arm  was  Mait- 
liugly  arrested  by  the  deep  boom  of  a  heavy  gun  that 
seemed  to  come  from  the  mouth  of  the  river. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


fiflG 


OAKLEIGH. 


BY      E  L  L  E  \     DOUGLAS      D  E  L  A  N  D. 


CHAPTER    III. 

WHEST  Cynthia  asked  at  Mrs.Parker's  door  if  that  lady 
•were  at  home  it  was  not  necessary  for  her  to  give 
her  name.     The  maid  recognized  Miss  Trinkett  at  once. 

"Yes,  she's  at  home,  ma'am.  And  won't  you  please  step 
into  the  parlor,  Miss  Triukett?  Mrs.  Parker '11  he  glad  to 
see  you." 

Mrs.  Parker  came  hurrying  down. 

"  Dear  Miss  Trinkett,  how  are  yon  ?  Why,  I  should 
scarcely  have  known  you!  What  have  yon  done  to  your- 
self?" 

Cynthia  laughed  her  great-aunt's  high  staccnto  laugh. 

"  Well,  now,  I  want  to  know,  Mrs.  Parker !  Don't  you 
see  what  it  is?  Why,  my  nieces  at  Oakleigh,  they  saw 
right  away  what  the  difference  was.  I  thought  'twas  about 
time  I  -was  keeping  up  with  the  fashions,  and  so  I  bought 
me  a  fine  new  piece  of  hair  for  my  front.  I  was  growing 
somewhat  gray,  and  I  thought  'twas  best  to  keep  young  on 
Silas's  account.  It  isn't  that  I  care  for  myself,  but  you 
have  to  be  particular  about  meu-folks,  as  you'll  kuow  wheu 
you've  seen  as  much  of  them  as  I  have." 

Cynthia  was  a  good  actress,  and  she  carried  herself 
precisely  as  Miss  Betsey  did,  and  imitated  her  voice  to  per- 
fection. 

She  repeated  some  of  her  aunt's  best-known  tales,  and 
good  Mrs.  Parker  nev- 
er dreamed  of  the 
possibility  of  her  call- 
er being  any  one  but 
worthy  Miss  Betsey 
Triukett,  of  Waybor- 
ough,  whom  she  had 
known  for  years. 

Mrs.  Parker  was  a 
great  talker,  and  usu- 
ally she  was  obliged 
to  fight  hard  to  sur- 
pass Miss  Triukett  in 
that  respect.  During 
the  first  part  of  the 
call  to-day  it  was  as 
difficult  as  usual,  but 
Mrs.  Parker  presently 
made  a  remark  which 
reduced  her  visitor  to 
a  state  of  alarming 
(silence. 

"  I  suppose  you 
have  come  to  an- 
nounce the  news," 
said  the  hostess,  smil- 
ing sympathetically. 

"Now  I  don't  know 
a  bit  of  news.  Why, 
my  dear  Mrs.  Parker, 
Silas  and  I  we  nev- 
er— 

"  Ah,  but  this  has 
nothing  to  do  with 
Silas,  though  it  may 
affect  you,  more  or 
less.  Surely  yon  know 
what  I  am  allud- 
ing to  ?" 

"I  haven't  the 
least  idea." 

And  Cynthia  bridled 
with  curiosity  on  her 
0\vu  account  as  well 
as  Aunt  Betsey's. 
She  thought  some- 
thing interesting 
must  be  coming. 

'•Well,      now,      to 


think  of  my  being  the  one  to  tell  you  something  about 
your  own  family !  I  don't  know  whether  I  ought  to,  but 
I  think  it  must  be  true,  and  you'll  hear  it  in  other  ways 
soon  enough.  You  know  I  have  relatives  in  Albany,  where 
she  lives." 

'•Where  who  lives?" 

"Miss  Gordon,  Hester  Gordon.  They  say — but,  of  course, 
I  don't  know  that  it's  true,  it  may  be' just  report,  but  they 
do  say — I  don't  know  whether  I  ought  to  tell  you, I  de- 
clare! that  it  won't  be  long  before  she's  Mrs.  Franklin." 

-  Mrs.  Franklin  ?" 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  John  Franklin.  Hasn't  your  nephew  told  you? 
Well,  well,  these  men  !  They  do  beat  all  for  keeping  things 
quiet." 

"  Is  it  true  .'" 

It  was  Cynthia's  natural  voice  that  asked  this  question. 
She  quite  forgot  that  she  was  supposed  to  be  Miss  Betsey 
Trinkett. 

"  I  suppose  it  is.  But,  dear  me,  Miss  Triukett,  don't  be 
worried !  Seems  to  me  you  look  very  queer,  though  I  can't 
see  your  face  very  well  through  that  veil,  and  you  with 
your  back  to  the  light.  Your  voice  sounds  sort  of  unnatu- 
ral, too,"  added  Mrs.  Parker.  "  Let  me  get  you  some  water." 

"Oh  no,  it  is  nothing,"  said  Cynthia,  who  had  quickly 
recovered  herself,  and  was  now  summoning  all  her  energy 


"  YOUR  VOICE  SOUNDS  SORT  OF  UNNATURAL,  TOO,"  ADDED  MRS.  PARKER. 
697 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


to  finish  the  call  in  a  proper  manner.  "You  surprised  me, 
that's  all,  and  I  never  did  care  much  for  surprises.  But  I 
think  there's  not  much  truth  in  that, Mrs.  Parker.  I  don't 
believe  my  fa — nephew  is  going  to  be  married  again.  In 
fact,  I'm  very  sure  he  is  not."  And  she  nodded  her  head 
emphatically. 

"Ah,  my  dear  Miss  Trinkett,  you  never  can  tell.  Some- 
times a  man's  family  is  the  last  to  hear  those  things.  And 
it  will  be  a  good  match,  too.  She  comes  of  an  old  family, 
and  she  has  a  great  deal  of  money.  The  Gordons  are  all 
rich." 

"  Do  you  suppose  he'd  care  for  that  ?"  exclaimed  her  vis- 
itor, wrathfully. 

"Well,  well,  one  never  knows!  And  think  how  much 
better  it  would  be  for  the  children.  Edith  is  too  young  to 
have  so  much  care,  and  they  say  Cynthia  runs  wild  most  of 
the  time,  just  like  a  boy.  Indeed,  I  call  it  a  very  good 
thing.  Though  I  must  say  she  is  a  pretty  brave  woman  to 
take  on  herself  the  care  of  that  family.'' 

Here  "Miss  Betsey"  suddenly  darted  for  the  door.  It 
could  be  endured  no  longer.  Mrs.  Parker  bade  her  fare- 
well, and  then  went  back  to  tell  her  daughters  that  Miss 
Trinkett  was  sadly  changed.  Though  she  was  still  so 
young  in  appearance,  she  was  evidently  very  much  broken. 

For  some  time  Jack  could  obtain  no  reply  to  his  ques- 
tions, but  at  last  Cynthia's  resolution  broke  down,  and  she 
burst  into  tears.  They  had  turned  into  a  shady  lane  instead 
of  going  directly  home,  and  there  was  no  danger  of  meet- 
ing any  one. 

"  Jack,  Jack !"  she  moaned,  "  I'll  have  to  tell  yon.  Mrs. 
Parker  says  papa  is  going  to  be  married  again  !  What 
shall  we  do !  What  shall  we  do !" 

For  answer  Jack  indulged  in  a  prolonged  whistle. 

"Isn't  it  the  most  dreadful  thing  you  ever  heard  of? 
Jack,  how  shall  we  ever  endure  it?" 

"  Well,  it  mayn't  be  as  bad  as  you  think.    If  she's  nice — ' 

"Oh,  Jack,  she  won't  be!  Stepmothers  are  never  nice. 
I  never  in  my  life  heard  of  one  that  was.  She'll  be  horrid 
to  us  all." 

"Oh,  I  say,  that's  nonsense.  If  you  were  to  marry  a 
widower  with  a  lot  of  children  you'd  be  nice  to  them." 

"Jack,  the  very  idea!  /  marry  a  widower  with  a  lot  of 
children  !  I'd  like  to  see  myself  doing  such  a  thing!" 

Cynthia  almost  forgot  her  present  troubles  in  her  wrath 
at  her  brother's  suggestion. 

"  Well,  after  all  it  may  not  be  true.  Because  Mrs.  Par- 
ker says  so,  doesn't  prove  it.  Where  did  she  hear  it?" 

"  From  some  of  her  Albany  relations,  I  suppose.  The — 
the  lady  lives  there.  But,  oh,  Jack!  Do  you  think  there 
is  any  chance  of  its  not  being  true  ?"  cried  Cynthia,  catch- 
ing at  the  least  straw  of  hope. 

"  Why,  of  course !  Father  hasn't  tolcj  ns,  and  you  can't 
believe  all  the  gossip  yon  hear,"  said  Jack,  loftily. 

"Perhaps  it  isn't  true,  after  all,"  exclaimed  Cynthia, 
drying  her  eyes  and  smiling  once  more,  "and  I've  been 
boo-hooiug  all  for  nothing!  I  sha'u't  say  a  word  about  it 
to  Edith,  and  don't  you  either,  Jack.  It  isn't  worth  while 
to  worry  her,  and  Mrs.  Parker  is  a  terrible  gossip." 

They  went  home,  and  Cynthia  gave  her  sister  a  gay  ac- 
count of  her  visit,  carefully  omitting  all  exciting  items, 
and  then  she  helped  Edith  put  away  some  of  the  things, 
and  finally  was  free  to  go  on  the  river  in  the  afternoon. 
Jack,  boylike,  had  forgotten  all  about  Mrs.  Parker's  news. 
He  did  not  believe  it,  and  therefore  it  was  not  worth 
thinking  of.  But  Cynthia's  mind  was  not  so  easily  diverted. 
She  did  not  believe  it,  either,  but  then  it  might  be  true, 
and  if  it  were,  what  was  to  be  done?  It  seemed  as  if  a 
worse  calamity  could  not  happen. 

Jack,  her  usual  companion  on  the  river,  was  busy  with 
some  carpentry.  He  was  making  a  "  brooder"  like  one  he 
had  bought,  to  serve  as  a  home  for  the  little  chicks  when 
they  should  be  hatched.  He  used  the  "barn  chamber" 
for  a  workshop,  and  the  sound  of  his  saw  and  his  hammer 
could  be  heard  through  the  open  window. 

Cynthia  was  deeply  interested  in  poultry-raising,  but  she 
wished  it  did  not  consume  so  much  of  her  brother's  time 
and  attention. 

Edith  was  going  to  the  village  to  an  afternoon  tea  at  the 


Morgans'.  Gertrude  Morgan  was  her  most  intimate  friend, 
and  all  the  nicest  girls  and  boys  would  be  there  to  talk 
over  a  tennis  tournament.  Cynthia  was  rather  sorry  that 
she  had  not  been  asked.  She  said  to  herself  that  she  would 
be  of  more  value  in  the  discussion  than  Edith,  for  she  really 
played  tennis,  while  Edith  merely  stood  about  looking 
graceful  and  pretty.  However,  she  had  not  been  invited, 
and,  after  all,  the  river  was  more  fun  thau  any  afternoon 
tea. 

One  of  the  men  put  the  canoe  in  the  water  for  her,  and, 
with  a  huge  stone  to  act  as  ballast,  she  paddled  up  stream, 
browsing  along  the  banks  looking  for  wild  flowers,  or  steer- 
ing her  way  through  the  rocks,  of  which  the  river  was  very 
full  just  at  this  point. 

Cynthia,  fond  as  she  was  of  companionship,  being  of  au 
extremely  sociable  disposition,  was  never  lonely  on  her  be- 
loved river. 

Edith  dressed  herself  carefully  and  drove  oft'  to  the  tea. 
She  looked  very  attractive  in  her  spring  gown  of  gray  and 
her  large  black  hat,  and  as  she  studied  herself  in  the  small 
old-fashioned  mirror  that  hung  in  her  room  she  felt  quite 
pleased  with  her  appearance. 

"If  I  only  had  more  nice  gloves  I  should  be  satisfied," 
she  thought.  "  It  is  so  horried  to  be  saving  up  one  pair, 
and  having  to  wear  such  old  things  for  driving  and  whisk 
them  oft' just  before  I  get  to  a  place  and  put  on  the  good 
ones.  And  a  handsome  parasol  would  be  so  nice.  I  don't 
think  I'll  take  this  old  thing.  I  don't  really  need  one  to- 
day. I  wonder  where  the  children  are.  I  ought  to  look 
them  up,  I  suppose,  but  they  are  all  right,  somewhere,  and 
it  is  getting  late.  After  all, why  should  I  always  be  the 
one  to  run  after  those  children  ?" 

And  then  she  drove  away  to  Breuton,  leaving  house- 
keeping cares  behind  her,  and  prepared  for  a  pleasant  after- 
noon. 

About  half  a  dozen  boys  and  girls  had  already  arrived  at 
the  Morgans'  when  Edith  drove  in.  It  was  a  fine  old  house 
standing  far  back  from  the  road,  and  surrounded  with 
shady  grounds.  The  river  was  at  the  back.  A  smooth  and 
well-kept  tennis-court  was  on  the  left  of  the  drive  as  one 
approached  the  house,  and  here  the  guests  were  assembled. 

"Oh,  here's  Edith  Franklin  at  last!"  cried  Gertrude 
Morgan,  while  her  brother  went  forward,  and,  after  helping 
Edith  to  alight,  took  her  horse  and  drove  down  to  the 
stable. 

Presently  all  the  tongues  were  buzzing,  each  one  sug- 
gesting what  he  or  she  cousideredl  the  very  best  plan 
for  holding  a  tournament.  It  was  finally  arranged  to 
have  it  at  the  tennis  club  rather  than  at  the  Morgans',  as 
had  at  first  been  thought  best, and  it  would  be  open  to  all 
the  comers  who  had  reached  the  age  of  fourteen. 

"That  is  very  young,"  said  Gertrude,  "  but  we  really 
ought  to  have  it  open  to  Cynthia  Franklin.  She  is  one  of 
the  best  players  in  Brenton." 

"  By  all  means,"  said  her  brother,  who  was  always  on  tin- 
side  of  the  Franklins,  "and,  Edith,  you'll  play  with  me, 
won't  you,  in  mixed  doubles?" 

"Oh',  I  don't  play  well  enough!"  exclaimed  Edith.  "Thank 
you  ever  so  much,  Dennis,  but  you  had  better  ask  some  ono 
else.  I  don't  think  I'll  play." 

Every  one  objected  to  this,  but  it  was  finally  settled  that 
Edith  should  act  as  one  of  the  hostesses  for  the  important 
occasion,  which  was  greatly  to  her  satisfaction.  She  rather 
enjoyed  moving  slowly  and  gracefully  about,  pouring  tea 
and  lemonade,  and  handing  it  to  the  poor,  heated  players, 
who  were  obliged  to  work  so  hard  for  their  fun. 

They  were  startled  by  the  sound  of  the  clock  on  the 
church  across  the.  road.  It  struck  six,  and  Edith  rose  in 
haste, 

"  I  must  go,"  she  said.  "  I  had  no  idea  it  was  so  late  ! 
Those  children  have  probably  gotten  into  all  kinds  of  mis- 
chief while  I've  been  away,  and  papa  will  not  be  home  un- 
til late,  so  I  am  not  to  wait  in  the  village  for  him." 

The  others  looked  after  her  as  she  drove  away. 

'•  Isn't  she  the  sweetest,  dearest  girl  ?"  cried  Gertrude. 
"And  wou't  it  be  hard  for  her  if  her  father  marries  again, 
as  every  one  says  he  is  going  to  do  ?  But,  after  all,  it  may 
be  a  good  thing,  for  then  Edith  wouldn't  have  to  do  so 


098 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


much  for  the  children.     I  wonder  if  she  knows  about  it? 
She  hasn't  breathed  a  word  of  it,  eveu  to  me." 

Janet  and  Willy,  the  inseparable  but  ever-fighting  pair, 
came  in  at  the  side  door,  not  very  long  after  Edith  went  to 
the  village.  They  found  the  house  empty  and  the  coast 
clear,  and  their  active  brains  immediately  set  to  work  to 
solve  the  question  of  what  mischief  they  could  do. 

They  wandered  into  the  big  silent  kitchen.  The  ser- 
vants were  upstairs,  and  beyond  the  buzzing  of  a  fly  on  the 
window-pane  and  the  singing  of  the  kettle  on  the  range 
perfect  quiet  reigned. 

"Let's  go  down  and  see  the  inkerbaker,"  suggested 
Willy. 

"All  right,"  returned  Janet,  affably,  and  down  they  pat- 
tered as  fast  as  their  sturdy  little  legs  could  carry  them. 

They  peered  in  through  the  glass  front  at  the  eggs, 
which  lay  so  peacefully  within. 

"It  must  be  tumble  stupid  in  there, "said  Janet, pity- 
ingly. "Shouldn't  you  think  those  chickens  would,  be 
tired  of  waiting  to  come  out?" 

"Yes.     We  might  crack  a  lot  and  help  'em  out." 

"Oh,  no.  Jack  says  they  won't  be  ready  for  two  days. 
But  I'll  tell  you  what  we  might  do.  We  might  see  whether 
it's  hot  enough  for 'em  in  there.  I  guess  Jack's  forgotten 
all  about 'em.  I  don't  believe  he's  beeu  near 'em  to-day, 
nor  Martha,  either." 

"How  d'yer  find  out  whever  it's  hot  enough  ?" 

"  I  don't  know.  Guess  you  open  the  door,  and  put  your 
hand  in  and  feel." 

For  Janet  had  never  been  taught  the  significance  of  the 
thermometer  inside,  and  knew  nothing  of  the  proper  means 
of  ventilating  the  machine. 

No  sooner  said  than  done.  One  of  the  doors  was  prompt- 
ly opened,  and  two  fat  hands  were  thrust  into  the  cham- 
ber. 

"My  goodies,  it's  hot  there  !"  cried  Janet.  "We  ought 
to  cool  it  off.  Let's  leave  the  door  open  and  turn  down  the 
lamp,  and  open  the  cellar  window." 

Mounted  on  an  old  barrel,  Janet,  at  the  risk  of  her  life, 
struggled  in  vain  with  the  window.  She  chose  one  that 
was  never  used,  and  it  refused  to  respond  to  her  efforts. 
Then  she  descended,  and  returned  to  the  incubator. 

"Can't  do  it," she  said.  "But  I'll  tell  you  what  we'll 
do." 

"What  ?"  asked  the  ever-ready  Willy. 

"Pour  some  ice  water  over 'em.    That'll  cool'eiu  nicely." 

They  travelled  up  the  cellar  stairs  to  the  "  cooler,"  which 
stood  in  the  hall. 

"Wish  we  had  a  pitcher,"  said  Janet.  "You  take  the 
tum'ler,  and  I'll  get  a  dipper." 

It  required  several  journeys  to  and  fro  to  sufficiently  cool 
the  eggs,  according  to  their  way  of  thinking,  but  at  last  it 
was  accomplished,  with  much  dripping  of  water  and  splash- 
ing (if  clean  clothes. 

The  water-cooler  was  left  empty,  and  the  incubator  was 
in  a  state  of  dampness  alarming  to  behold. 

"  There  ;  I  guess  it's  cool  enough  now  !"  said  Janet,  when 
the  last  trip  had  been  taken. 

Alas,  the  mercury,  which  should  have  remained  at  103°, 
had  dropped  quietly  down  to  70°. 

"I'd  like  to  see  what's  in  those  eggs,"  said  Willy,  medi- 
tatively. "  D'yer  s'pose  they're  chickies  yet  ?" 

"  I  guess  so.  I'd  like  to  see,  too.  I'll  tell  yon  what, 
Willy  ?  Let's  take  one,  and  carry  it  off  and  SIT." 

"All  right.  I'll  be  the  one  to  take  it.  What  '11  Jack 
say  .'" 

"  He  won't  mind.  Just  one  egg,  and  he  has  such  a  lot. 
And  we've  beeu  helping  him  lots  this  afternoon,  cooling 
Vin  "If  so  nicely.  But  I'll  be  the  one  to  take  it." 

"No,  me  !" 

"  Let's  both  do  it,"  said  Janet,  for  once  anxious  to  avoid 
a  quarrel.  "  I  speak  for  that  big  one  over  there,"  and  she 
abstracted  one  from  the  "thermometer  row,"  the  row  that 
was  most  important  and  precious  in  the  eyes  of  the  owner 
of  the  machine. 

"  And  I'll  take,  dis  one.  It's  awful  heavy,  and  I  guess 
de  dear  little  chicken  '11  be  glad  to  get  out  and  have  some 
nice  fresh  air." 


"Let's  go  down  behind  the  carriage-house  and  look  at 
'em." 

They  fastened  the  door  of  the  incubator,  and  departed 
with  their  treasures. 

Half  an  hour  later,  Jack,  having  finished  his  work,  cauie 
whistling  into  the  house.  He  would  go  down  and  have  a 
look  at  the  machine,  and  then  walk  .up  the  river-hank  to 
meet  Cynthia,  whom  he  had  seen  as  she  paddled  off' early 
in  the  afternoon. 

His  first  glance  at  the  thermometer  gave  him  a  shock — 
75°  it  registered.  What  had  happened?  He  looked  at  the 
lamp  which  heated  the  chambers,  and  found  that  it  had 
beeu  turned  down  very  low.  What  could  Martha  have 
been  thinking  of,  when  he  told  her  it  was  so  important  to 
keep  up  the  temperature  this  last  day  or  so?  The  day 
after  to-morrow  he  expected  the  hatching  to  begin,  and  he 
liad  closed  the  door  of  the  incubator  that  morning.  It  was 
not  to  be  opened  again  until  the  chicks  were  out. 

Jack  was  on  tiptoe  with  excitement.  If  they  came  out 
well,  what  a  triumph  it  would  be !  If  they  failed,  what 
would  his  father  say  ? 

He  looked  again,  and  a  most  unexpected  sight  met  his 
eyes.  Water  was  dripping  from  the  trays,  aud  the  fine 
gravel  beneath  had  become  mud. 

And  there  was  a  vacant  space  iii  the  tray.  An  egg  had 
gone — and  it  was  from  the  third  row,  the  row  which  he 
had  been  so  careful  about,  which  contained  the  best  eggs. 

Aud,  yes,  surely  there  was  another  hole.  Another  egg 
gone!  What  could  have  happened  ' 

He  ran  up  stairs  three  steps  at  a  time,  shouting  for 
Martha. 

"What  have  you  beeu  doing,  Martha?"  lie  cried.  "Two 
eggs  are  gone,  and  the  thermometer  way  below  80°,  and  all 
that  water!" 

"  Sure,  Mr.  Jack,  I  haven't  been  there  at  all !  You  were 
at  home  yourself  to-day,  and  I  never  go  near  Jue  place  of  a 
Saturday." 

"  Well,  some  one  has  been  at  it.  Where's  Cynthia  ? 
Where's  Edith  ?  Why  isn't  somebody  at  home  to  attend 
to  things?" 

No  one  could  be  found.  Jack  rushed  frantically  about, 
and  at  last  heard  the  sound  of  wheels.  Edith  was  return- 
ing from  the  tea.  And  at  the  same  moment,  around  the 
corner  of  the  house  came  Cynthia,  leading  two  crying  chil- 
dren . 

They  all  met  on  the  front  porch. 

"They've  beeu  up  to  mischief,  Jack,"  said  Cynthia; 
"I  hope  they  haven't  done  much  harm.  I  found  them  on 
the  bank  behind  the  carriage-house.  They  must  have 
been  at  the  incubator,  for  they  had  two  eggs  and  the 
chickens  are  dead.  Aud  they  are  two  bad,  naughty  chil- 
dren !" 

Even  Cynthia  the  peacemaker  had  beeu  stirred  to  right- 
eous wrath  by  the  sight  on  the  river-bank. 

"You  rascals!"  cried  Jack,  in  a  fury,  shaking  them  each 
in  turn  ;  "  I'd  like  to  lick  you  to  pieces !  You've  ruined  the 
whole  hatch." 

"  Go  straight  to  bed,"  said  Edith,  sternly  ;  "  you  are  the 
very  worst  children  I  ever  knew.  I  ought  not  to  leave  the 
house  a  minute.  You  can't  be  trusted  at  all." 

They  all  went  in,  scolding,  storming,  and  crying.  In  the 
midst  of  the  confusion  Mr.  Franklin  arrived,  earlier  than 
he  had  beeu  expected.  It  was  some  minutes  before  he 
could  understand  the  meaning  of  the  uproar. 

He  looked  about  from  one  to  the  other. 

"  It  only  serves  to  justify  me  in  a  conclusion  that  I  have 
reached,"  he  said.  "  You  are  all  too  young  to  be  without 
some  one  to  look  after  you.  Take  the  children  to  bed, 
Edith,  and  then  come  to  me.  I  have  something  to  tell 
you." 

Edith,  wondering,  did  as  she  was  told.  Cynthia  gave 
Jack  one  despairing  look  aud  fled  from  the  room.  Her 
worst  fears  were  on  the  point  of  being  realized. 

And  after  tea,  when  they  were  sitting  as  usual  in  the 
long  parlor,  Mr.  Franklin,  with  some  hesitation  and  much 
embarrassment,  informed  them  that  he  was  engaged  t<>  In' 
married  to  Miss  Hester  Gordon,  of  Albany. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


699 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


BY  WILLIAM  HAMILTON  GIBSON. 
HE  pretty  works  of  my  fairy  anil 
his  companions  in  mischief  are 
seen  on  every  hand  from 
spring  until  winter,  but  few 
of  ns  have  ever  seen  the  fay, 
for  Puck  is  no  myth  nor  Ariel 
a  creature  of  the  poet's  fancy. 
Their  prototype  existed  in  entomological  entity  and  de- 
moralizing misehievousuess  ages  before  the  traditional  fay, 
in  diminutive  human  form,  had  been  dreamt  of.  The 
quaint  bow-legged  little  "brownies"  which  have  brought 
our  entire  land  beneath  the  witching  spell  of  their  droll- 
ery can  scarce  claim  prestige  in  the  ingenuity  of  their 
mischief,  nor  can  the  droll  doings  of  imps  and  elves  chroni- 
cled in  the  folk-lore  of  many  an  ancient  people  begin  to 
match  the  actual  doings  of  the  real,  live,  busy  little  fairy 
whose  works  abound  in  meadow,  wood,  and  copse,  and 
which  any  of  us  may  discover  if  we  can  once  be  brought 
to  realize  that  our  imp  is  visible.  Then  we  must  not  for- 
get that  ideal  type 
of  the  true  "fairy" 
— a,  paragon  of 
beauty  and  good- 
ness, with  golden 
hair  and  dazzling 
crown  of  brilliants, 
with  her  airy  cos- 
tume of  gossamer 
begemmed  and 
spangled,  her  .dain- 
ty twinkling  feet 
and  gorgeously 
painted  butterfly 
wings.  And  we 
all  remember  that 
wonderful  wand 
which  she  carried 

so  gracefully,  and  whose  simple  touch   could  evoke  such 
a  train  of  surprising  consequences. 

And  who  shall  say  that  our  pretty  fay  is  a  myth,  or  her 
magic  wand  a  wild  creation  of  the  fancy?     May  we  not  see 
the  wonder-workings  of  that  potent  wand  on  every  hand, 
even  though  our  fairy  has  eluded  us  while  she  cast  the 
spell  ?     There  are  a  host  of  these  wee  fairies  continually 
flitting  about  among  the  trees  plotting  all  sorts  of  mis- 
chief, and  leaving  an  astonishing  witness  of  their  visita- 
tion in  their  trail  as  they  pass  from  leaf  to  leaf  or  twig  to 
twig.     But  these  fairies,  like  those  of  Grimm  and  Labmi- 
laye,  are  agile  little  atoms,  and  are  not  to  be  caught  in 
their  pranks  if  they  know  it,  and  even  though  our  eye 
chanced  to  rest  on  one  of  tin-in,  it  is  doubtful  whether  we 
would  recognize  him,  so  different  is  the  guise  of  these  mil 
fairies  from  those  invented  creatures  of  the  books.     Once, 
when    a    mere   boy,  I 
caught  one  of  the  lit- 
tle imps  at   work,  and 
watched    her  for   sev- 
eral   minutes  without 
dreaming   that    I   had 
been  looking  at  a  real 
fairy     all     this     time. 
What   did    I    see  ,'       I 
was  sitting  in  a  clear- 
ing, partly  in  the  shade 
of  a    sapling   growth 


THE   INHABITED    ROSE    SPONGE. 


of  oak  which  sprang  from  the  trunk  of  a  felled 
tree.  While  thus  half  reclining  I  noticed  a  di- 
minutive black  wasplike  insect  upon  one  of  the 
oak  leaves  close  to  my  face. 

The  insect  seemed  almost  stationary  and  not 
inclined  to  resent  my  iutrusiou,  so  I  observed  her 
closely.  I  soon  discovered  that  she  was  insert- 
ing her  sting  into  the  midstem  of  the  leaf,  or, 
perhaps,  withdrawing  it  therefrom,  for  in  a  few 
moments  the  midge  flew  away.  I  remember 
wondering  what  the  insect  was  trying  to  do, 
and  not  until  years  later  did  I  realize  that  I  had 
been  witnessing  the  secret  arts  of  the  magician 
of  the  insect  world — a  very  Puck  or  Ariel,  as  I 
have  said — a  fairy  with  a  magic  wand  which  any  sprite 
in  eltiudom  might  covet. 

The  wand  of  Hermann  never  wrought  such  a  wonder  as 
did  this  magic  touch  of  the  little  black  fly  upon  the  oak 
leaf.  Had  I  chanced  to  visit  the  spot  a  few  weeks  later, 
what  a  beautiful  red-cheeked  apple  could  I  have  plucked 
from  that  hemstitched  leaf! 

This  was  but  one  of  a  veritable  swarni  of  mischief- 
making  midges  everywhere  flitting  among  the  trees;  and 
while  they  are  quite  as  various  in  their  shapes  as  the  tra- 
ditional forms  of  fairies — the  ou  plies  and  imps,  the  gnomes 
and  elves  of  quaintest  mien,  as  well  as  the  dainty  fays  and 
sylphs  and  sprites — there  is  one  feature  common  to  them 
all  which  annihilates  the  ideal  of  all  the  pictorial  authori- 
ties ou  fairydom.  Neither  Grimm,  nor  Laboulaye,  nor  any 
of  the  masters  of  fairy  lore  seems  to  have  discovered  that  a 
fairy  has  no  right  to  those  butterfly  wings  which  the  pages 
of  books  show  us.  Those  of  the  real  fairy  are  quite  dif- 
ferent, being  narrow  and  glassy,  and 
bear  the  magician's  peculiar  sign 
in  their  crisscross  veins. 

What  a  world  of  mischief  is  going 
on  here  in  the  fields!  Here  is  one  of 
thewitchingspritesauiougthedroop-  L 

ing    blossoms    of  the    oak.      "You 
would  fain  be  an  acorn,"  she  says, 
as  she  pierces  the  tender  blossoms 
with    her    wand,    "but 
I  charge  thee  bring  forth 
a    string    of  currants"; 
and      immediately      the 
blossoms  begin   to  obey 
the   behest,  and  erelong 
a   mimic   string  of  cur- 
rants   droops   upon  the 
stem.       Upon       another 
tender  branch  near  by  a 
jet-black    gauze-winged 
elf  is  casting   a  similar 
spell,  which  is  this  time 
followed  by  a  tiny  dow- 
ny pink-cheeked  peach. 
And  here  alights  a  tiny 
sprite,      whose       magic 
touch  evokes  even  from 
the  sunn'  leaf  a  cherry, 
or  a  coral  bead,  perhaps 
a  huge  given  apple!  How 
many    of 
us    have 
seen   tin- 
little  elf 


\ 


. 


THE    ELFIN    SPONGE    OF   THE    BRIER    ROSE. 

700 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


-' 


THE    ELFIN    SPONGE  OF   THE    OAK. 


that  spends  her  life 
among  the  tangles 
of  creeping  ciuque- 
foil,  and  decks  its 
stems  with  those 
brilliant  scarlet 

beads  which  we  may 
always  find  upon 
them,  looking  verily 
like  tempting  ber- 
ries. 

We  see  here  about 
ns  swarms  of  these 
busy  elves  in  obedience  to  their  own  peculiar  mischievous 
promptings.  What  whispers  this  glittering  midge  to  the 
oak  twig  here  to  which  she  clings  so  closely  ?  We  may 
not  guess ;  but  if  we  pass  this  way  a  month  or  so  hence 
what  a  beautiful  response  in  the  glistening  rosy-clouded 
sponge  which  encircles  the  stem  !  "But  this  sponge  is  not 
pretty  enough  by  half,"  exclaims  a  rival  fairy.  "  Wait  un- 
til you  see  what  yonder  sweet-brier  rose  will  do  for  we." 
Hovering  thither  among  its  thorns  she  imparts  her  spell, 
and,  lo!  within  a  mouth  the  stem  is  clothed  in  emerald 
fringe,  which  grows  apace,  until  it  has  become  a  dense 

pompon  of  deep  crimson 
— a  sponge  worthy  the 
toilet  of  the  fairy  queen 
herself ! 

Who  shall  still  say 
that  the  fairy  is  a  myth  ! 
These  two  fairy  sponges 
are  familiar  to  us  all,  at 
least  to  those,  of  us  who 
dwell  for  even  a  small 
part  of  the  year  in  the 
country  and  use  our  eyes. 
Indeed,  we  need  go  no 

further  than  our  city  parks,  or  even  our  "  back-yard"  gar- 
dens to  find  at  least  one  of  them,  for  the  sweet-brier  is 
rarely  neglected  by  this  particular  fairy. 

So  many  specimens  of  both  of  these  sponges  have  been 
sent  to  me  by  ROUND  TABLE  correspondents  aud  others, 
that  I  have  begun  to  wonder  how  many  of  those  other 
young  people  who  have  seen  them  and  kept  silence  have 
wondered  at  their  secret. 

The  two  fairies  which  are  responsible  for  these  sponges 
have  been  captured  by  the  inquisitive  scientist,  aud  have 


THE    ROSE    MISCHIEF-MAKER. 


had  their  portraits  taken  for  the  rogues'  gal- 
lery, aud  now  we  see  them  stuck  upon  tiny 
little  three-cornered  pieces  of  paper,  and  pinned 
in  the  specimen  case  as  mere  iiixeets — gall-Hies. 
The  one  is  labelled  Ci/injix  m'iiiiiiul<n;  the  other, 
Cyiii]>s  nimi . 

Aud  now  the  prosaic  entomologist  proceeds, 
to  supplant  fact  for  fancy.  This  gall-fly  is  a 
sort  of  cousin  to  the  wasps,  but  what  we  would 
call  its  sting  is  more  than  a  mere  sting.  Like  a  sting,  it 
seems  to  puncture  the  bark  or  leaf,  aud  at  the  same  time 
probably  to  inject  its  drop  of  venom  ;  but  at  the  same  time 
it  conveys  to  the 
depths  of  the 
wound  a  tiny  egg, 
or  perhaps  a  host 
of  them.  One 
gall-fly  is  thus  a 
magician  iu 

chemistry,          at 
least,  for  no  soon- 
er are  these  eg_ 
deposited      than 
the          wounded 

branch  begins  to  THE  FAIRY   USING  HER  MAGIC  WAND 
swell  aud  lorm  a 

cellular  growth  or  tumor  about  them,  the  character 
of  this  abnormal  growth  depending  upon  the  peculiar 
charm  of  the  venomous  touch — to  one  a  tiny  coral  globe,  to 
another  a  cluster  of  spines,  to  another  a  curved  horn,  and 
to  our  cynips  of  the  white  or  scrub  oak  a  peculiar  globular 
spongy  growth  which  completely  envelops  the  stem,  some- 
times to  the  size  of  a  small  apple.  In  its  prime  it  is  a  beau- 
tiful object,  with  its  fibrous  glistening  texture  studded! 
with  pink  points.  But  this  condition  lasts  but  a  few  days, 
when  the  entire  mass  becomes  brownish  and  woolly,  which 
fact  has  given  this  insect  the  common  name  of  "  wool- 
sower." 

Aud  now  we  must  lose  no  time  if  we  would  follow  its- 
history  to  its  complete  cycle.  If  we  put  one  of  these  faded 
sponges  iu  a  tight-closed  box,  we  shall  iu  a  few  days  learn 
the  secret  of  its  being.  For  this  singular  mimic  fruit, which 


'     7"  - 
,  -    ! 

-v^Xste-  >  t 


?;W       "'    r'  '' 

-J3P  - 

. , 


JS.BS 

m 


'&•         : 
'     •?!$       - 
'••' aul'f    - 


THE  REAL  FAIRY  OF  THE  OAK  SPONGE. 

A.  One   of  the  points  detached.      B.    Sectioii  of  the  base. 

C,  D.  Cynfps  emer^iuL^ 


701 


HAEPER'S  KOUND  TABLE 


iias  sprung  at  the  behest  of  the  gall-fly,  like  other  fruits, 
has  its  seeds  —  seeds  which  are  animated  with  peculiar 
life,  and  which  sprout  in  a  way  we  would  hardly  expect. 
Within  a  fortnight  after  gathering,  perhaps,  we  find  our 
bos  swarming  with  tiny  black  flies,  while  if  we  dissect  the 
sponge  we  find  its  long-beaked  seeds  entirely  empty,  aud 
«ach  with  a  clean  round  hole  guawed  through  its  shell,  ex- 
plaining this  host  of  gall-flies,  all  similar  to  the  parent  of  a 
few  weeks  since,  aud  all  beut  on  the  same  mischief  when 
you  shall  let  them  loose  at  the  window. 

The  beautiful  sponge  of  the  sweet-brier  has  been  called 
into  being  by  exactly  similar  means.  And  its  hard  woody 
centre  is  packed  full  of  cells,  at  first  each  with  its  tiny  egg, 
and  then  with  its  plump  larva,  followed  by  the  chrysalis, 
and  at  length  by  the  emergence  of  the  full-fledged  Cynips 
rosai. 

This  sponge-gall  of  the  rose  is  commonly  known  as  the 
Bedeguar,  aud  like  all  other  members  of  its  tribe,  as  with 
the  familiar  oak-apple,  was  long  supposed  to  be  a  regular 
accessory  fruit  of  its  parent  stalk.  Among  early  studeuts 
were  many  superstitious  connected  with  the  Bedeguar, 
the  nature  of  which  may  readily  be  inferred  from  its  other 
common  name  of  "Robin's  Pin-cushion." 


i  >STAC7V\P>S 


This  Department  is  conducted  in  the  interest  of  Stamp  and  Coio  Collectors,  and  the  Edilnr 
will  be  pleased  to  snRwer  any  queltlon  cm  these  sutjeets  so  far  as  possible.  Correspondents 
should  address  Editor  Stamp  Department. 

A  LIST  OP  DON'TS  FOR  STAMP  COLLECTORS. 

DON'T  paste  your  stamps  iuto  your  albums,  but  use 
"stickers"  or  "hinges." 

Don't  use  any  old  copy-book  if  you  cau  afford  to  buy  an 
album.  Dealers  cau  supply  albums  at  any  price  from 
twenty-five  cents  upward. 

Don't  trim  your  stamps.  Many  valuable  stamps  have 
been  ruined  by  this  process. 

Don't  cut  envelope  stamps  to  shape.  Cut  them  out 
square,  leaving  a  good  margin  on  all  sides. 

Don't  handle  your  stamps  any  more  than  you  can  help. 

Don't  buy  rare  stamps  from  any  but  responsible  dealers. 
Some  counterfeits  resemble  the  genuine  stamps  marvel- 
lously. No  oue  not  au  expert  could  tell  them  apart. 

Don't  buy  Chinese  locals,  "Seebecks,"  and  other  phila- 
telic trash,  which  is  made  purposely  for  sale  to  stamp  col- 
lectors. 

Don't  expect  to  get  something  for  uothiug. 

FV.ANK  P.  HBI.BKI.L.— The  U.  S.  12c.  1S72  issue  is  worth  15  cents.  The 
50c.  green  Mauritius  1880  issue  is  worth  60  cents,  unused;  85  cents, 
used.  The  "U.S.  Post  "is  the  1S04  issue;  worth  15  cents. 

W.  L.  L.  P.— Most  of  the  Heligoland  stamps  sold  are  reprints.  They  are 
worth  3  cents  each.  Originals  are  worth  from  15  cents  to  f5  each. 

JAMF.S  H.  CRF.[GUTON. — The  two  stamps  are  the  3c.  1S61  and  1872. 
They  are  sold  hy  stamp-dealers  at  1  cent  each. 

J.  A.  M.— There  is  no  premium  on  the  1872  U.S.  Ic.  coin. 

R.  F.  B. — The  U.  S.  2c.  stamp  bearing  a  representation  of  a  horseman 
is  the  1869  issue,  worth  8  cents  used,  25  cents  unused. 

J.  DUFF. — The  coin-dealers  ask  SI  50  for  good  copies  of  the  1S77  trade 
•dollar.  There  are  several  varieties  of  the  1801  and  1797  copper  cents, 
worth  ifom  25  cents  to  $3  each,  according  to  conditiou.  There  is  no 
premium  on  the  Canadian  coin. 

G.  G.  BF.ATTIF. — Write  to  any  stamp-dealer  whose  address  yon  find  in 
our  advertising  columns.  \Ve  cannot  give  addresses  in  this  Department. 
'The  German  coin  mentioned  has  no  premium. 

HAF.UY  Rir.F.v,  Brunswick,  Maine,  wants  to  correspond  with  some 
members  of  the  ROUNH  TAIII.K  living  in  Central  or  South  America.  Most 
-of  the  Hamburg  stumps  i"  albums  are  reprints.  When  the  word  "can- 
celled "is  printed  on  a  stamp  it  cannot  be  used  for  postage.  It  is  simply 
-a  "specimen  ''  ur  lac-simile.  The  Hong-Kong  stamps  mentioned  by  you 
iiave  not  yet  been  ratalogtied. 

G.  KNAUFF.— Mauy  thanks  tor  calling  my  attention  to  the  three  varie- 


ties of  the  present  2c.  U.  S.  (1)  The  variety  in  which  the  horizontal  Hues 
run  across  the  triangular  ornaments  in  uniform  thickness.  (2)  That  in 
which  the  horizontal  lines  between  the  outer  and  inner  lines  of  the  orna- 
ments are  deepened.  (3)  That  in  which  the  lines  are  entirely  missing 
between  the  outer  and  inner  lines  of  the  ornaments.  All  three  were 
known,  aud  in  addition  there  is  the  variety  showing  a  flaw  in  the  forehead. 
This  is  sometimes  found  strongly  marked ;  in  others  it  is  more  or  less 
distinct.  I  advise  philatelists  to  collect  all  these  varieties,  as  well  as 
all  the  shades  of  color,  which  are  almost  innumerable. 

LAUKA  WELOU.— Both  the  stamp  and  the  embossed  envelope  were  used 
by  the  War  Department  for  several  years.  This  use  has  been  discon- 
tinued many  years.  The  stamp  is  worth  5  cents,  the  Ic.  envelope,  if  on 
white  paper,  is  worth  $2  50,  if  on  amber  paper  $35,  if  on  mauila  paper  5 
cents. 

L.  P.  DODGE The  stamp  you  describe  is  one  of  the  German  locals 

which  are  not  collected  in  this  country.  There  are  many  counterfeits  of 
the  New  Orleans  Confederate  local.  It  is  impossible  to  say  whether 
your  copy  is  genuine  or  counterfeit  without  examination. 

H.  R.  C. — The  present  blue  Special  Delivery  is  collected  as  a  new 
variety.  The  Sedang  stamps  are  worthless.  Your  complaint  will  be  in- 
vestigated if  you  will  send  the  Stamp  Editor  your  full  name  and  address. 

F.  E.  WELSH,  JON.—" Regular"  perforations  cut  out  little  circles  of 
white  paper  between  each  stamp  on  the  sheet  "Pin"  perforations  are 
simply  holes  punched  into  the  spaces  between  the  stamps  without  remov- 
ing the  little  circles  of  white  paper.  Saw-tooth  perforations  are  simply 
cuts  into  the  spaces  between  the  stamps  somewhat  like  this — v  v  v  v  v  v. 
When  the  stamps  are  torn  apart  the  margins  look  just  like  the  teeth  OD 
a  saw.  Tne  Columbian  stamps  are  rapidly  advancing  in  value.  The  8c. 
Sherman  has  dropped  in  value  during  the  past  year  from  4  cents  to  a  ^ 
cent  each. 

JAMKS  F.  ANDERSON. — The  stamp  you  describe  is  the  New  Orleans 
local.  It  is  worth  at  least  SI  50. 

A.  W.  DUNOAN. — The  1S30  half-dollar  is  not  at  a  premium. 
R.  B.  H.— The  3c.  green  U.S.  is  worth  1  cent. 

F.  LOOKR. — The  1S53  dime  is  worth  face  value  only. 

GEO.  H. — We  cannot  answer  questions  regarding  dealers  in  this  column. 

B.  W.  LKAVITT.— TheSOc.  revenue-stamps  mentioned  are  sold  by  dealers 
at  2  cents  each. 

C.  C.  Coo.NF.i'..— The  Ic.  blue  1S61  is  worth  3  cents ;  the  others  are  worth 
1  cent  each. 

PHILATUS. 


THAT  SLEIGHT-OF-HAND  PEKFORMANCE. 

BY  CHARLES  M.  SHELDON. 

IT  had  been  a  very  dull  winter  at  Colby,  aud  when,  we 
college  boys  came  home  for  our  Christmas  vacation  we 
determined  we  would  liveu  it  up  for  the  village. 

As  it  happened,  curiously  enough,  a  funeral  was  the  cause 
of  the  lively  time  that  followed  our  determination. 

Old  Father^  Colby,  one  of  the  original  settlers,  had  died 
the  week  before, leaving  a  wife  aud  three  orphaned  grand- 
children in  the  old  homestead,  and,  as  it  turned  out,  very 
destitute.  So  the  idea  occurred  to  us  to  get  up  a  benefit 
entertainment,  aud  turn  over  the  proceeds  to  the  widow 
Colby  and  her  family  of  grandchildren. 

The  idea  took  with  the  neighborhood.  Aud  we  at  once 
rented  the  Town-hall,  and  proceeded  to  bill  the  village  and 
every  baru  in  the  towuship  with  the  notices  of  our  per- 
formance. 

There  were  three  of  us :  Tom  Chandler,  Jonas  Willitts, 
and  myself,  Peter  Samuels.  We  were  the  only  village  boys 
who  had  ever  been  to  college,  and  we  were  the  envy  of  all 
the  farmers'  boys  and  the  admiration  of  all  the  village  girls. 
So  we  made  the  most  of  our  brief  vacations  to  get  into 
public  notice. 

We  determined  to  give  a  sleight-of-hand  performance. 
Tom  sent  down  to  Boston  for  materials,  and  we  all  prac- 
tised diligently,  keeping  everything  as  secret  as  if  we  were 
in  a  conspiracy  against  the  United  States. 

Our  announcements,  which  were  scattered  all  over  the 
township,  were  certainly  very  attractive.  They  read  as 
follows  : 

"Extraordinary  Performance  to  be  given  at  the  Town- 
hall,  Colby,  December  20, 18 — .  Marvellous  Feats  of  Pres- 
tidigitatorism!  The  Egg  and  the  Handkerchief!  The 
Watch  Mortar  and  Magic  Pistol! 

"The  Handkerchief  that  will  not  Burn!  The  Pudding 
in  the  Hat!  The  Inexhaustible  Bottle!  And  Numerous 
other  Marvels  aud  Mysteries  lately  Imported  iroiu  ludia 
aud  the  East! 


702 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"The  above  Unrivalled  Performance  -will  be  given  for 
only  25  cents  admission.  Proceeds  to  be  devoted  to  Be- 
nevolent Cause.  Doors  open  at  7.30.  Performance  to  be- 
gin at  8.  Come  early  and  avoid  being  turned  away.  No 
reserved  seats.  Carriages  may  be  ordered  for  ten  o'clock." 

Wo  debated  some  over  the  last  line  on  the  handbills,  but 
finally  decided  to  let  it  go  in.  It  made  the  bills  look  more 
cosmopolitan  and  did  no  harm. 

Tom  and  Jouas  were  to  be  the  principal  performers.  I 
was  general  ticket  agent  and  business  and  stage  manager. 
We  all  had  our  dress  suits  with  us,  and,  of  course,  we  wore 
them  when  the  time  came. 

Well,  that  was  the  largest  crowd  that  ever  came  to  an 
entertainment  in  Colby.  There  hadn't  been  anything 
going  on  all  winter.  Most  of  the  young  people  had  never 
seen  any  sleight-of-hand  tricks,  and  all  the  old  people 
turned  out  to  help  Grandma  Colby.  Before  eight  o'clock 
the  hall  was  jammed.  Every  seat  was  taken,  and  people 
crowded  into  the  broad  aisle  and  sat  on  the  platform,  and 
stood  up  all  around  in  a  black  fringe  against  the  wall. 

We  had  rigged  up  a  curtain  in  front  of  the  narrow  plat- 
form, and  at  eight  o'clock,  when  the  hall  was  so  full  that 
no  more  people  could  get  into  it,  the  curtain  was  pulled 
aside  by  Peter  Samuels,  the  stage  director,  and  revealed 
the  Magician's  Home. 

The  first  trick  on  the  programme  was  "  The  Egg  and 
the  Handkerchief."  Jonas  was  behind  the  table  acting 
as  Tom's  assistant, -while  I  was  stationed  just  out  of  sight 
behind  a  fold  of  the  curtain,  ready  to  step  in  at  the  right 
moment,  for  the  trick  required  the  use  of  three  persons. 

It  was  simple  enough,  and  yet  Tom's  blunder  at  the  start 
led  to  the  ridiculous  accident  which  was  the  first  of  a 
series  that  made  that  sleight-of-hand  performance  a  thing 
for  Colby  people  to  reckon  time  from. 

The  trick  was,  first,  for  Tom  to  produce  an  egg  from 
Jonas's  mouth  by  rapping  him  on  the  back  of  his  head, 
Jonas  already  having  been  provided  with  a  guinea-hen's 
egg  secreted  in  his  month  for  the  purpose.  Then,  when  the 
egg  appeared,  Tom  was  to  pretend  to  place  it  in  a  handker- 
chief, really  substituting  for  it  a  china  egg  of  the  same 
size,  and  slipping  the  real  egg  into  a  little  pochette  of  his 
dress-coat.  What  he  did,  however,  was  to  drop  the  real 
egg  into  the  handkerchief, because,  as  he  afterwards  said, 
the  china  egg  stuck  in  his  pochette,  and  be  could  not  get 
it  out.  The  next  part  of  the  trick  was  to  gather  up  the 
four  corners  of  the  handkerchief  and  whirl  it  around  rap- 
idly, saying,  "Ladies  and  gentlemen,  keep  your  eyes  on 
my  assistant  yonder."  At  that  point  I  stepped  out,  holding 
on  a  plate  a  very  nice-looking  sponge-cake  previously  pre- 
pared. Then  Tom  was  to. say:  "I  will  now  cause  the  egg 
in  the  handkerchief  to  pass  into  the  cake.  Watch  closely, 
ladies  and  gentlemen." 

At  that  point  Tom  should  have  brought  the  handker- 
chief around  in  such  a  way  as  to  slip  the  china  egg  out 
into  his  other  hand.  Then  I  was  to  come  forward  and  cut 
open  the  cake,  displaying  an  egg  (also  china),  previously 
placed  within.  And  then  Tom  was  to  have  produced  the 
real  egg,  and  in  order' to  prove  that  it  was  a  real  egg  with- 
in the  cake  (exchanging  the  two  by  palming  one  of  them), 
he  was  to  break  the  real  one  into  a  dish. 

All  this,  which  sounds  so  complex  to  describe,  was  simple 
enough  as  we  had  rehearsed  it,  and  even  with  Tom's  blun- 
der of  dropping  the  real  egg  in  the  handkerchief,  might 
have  turned  out  all  right  if  he  had  not  let  go  one  of  the 
corners  of  the  handkerchief  as  he  whirled  it  around  his  head. 
I,  Peter  Samuels,  stage  manager  and  director  of  that  ex- 
traordinary performance  of  "Marvellous  Feats  of  Prestidi- 
gitatorism,"  will  never  forget  my  sensations  when,  as  I 
advanced  solemnly  with  the  cake,  a  white  body  whizzed 
through  the  air  and  struck  me  full  on  my  expansive  shirt 
bosom,  breaking  with  a  splash,  and  running  down  over  my 
vest  and  trousers  in  a  yellow  stream. 

I  remember  the  scared  look  on  Jonas's  face,  the  per- 
fectly horrified  expression  that  Tom  wore,  and  also  remem- 
ber dimly  wondering  if  a  guinea-fowl's  egg  would  make  as 
large  an  outlet  as  that  of  an  ostrich.  For  it  seemed  to  me 
as  if  I  was  swimming  in  egg  batter. 

The  next  instant  the  audience  broke  into  a  perfect  roar 


of  laughter.  I  threw  the  cake  down  on  the  table  and 
rushed  back  of  the  curtain  again,  leaving  Tom  and  Jonas 
to  get  out  of  the  blunder  as  best  they  could,  while  I  wiped 
oft'  the  egg  as  best  I  could  with  my  handkerchief. 

How  that  audience  did  roar!  Torn  stood  with  a  knife  in 
his  hand  waiting  to  cut  the  cake.  He  said  afterwards  he 
felt  mad  enough  to  jump  down  ofi'the  platform  and  pummel 
half  a  dozen  big  boys  on  the  front  seat.  But  he  kept  his 
temper,  and  when  the  laugh  died  down  he  cut  the  cake 
ppeii  and  showed  the  egg,  saying  something  about  its  being 
a  small-sized  egg  on  account  of  spilling  a  part  of  it  on  the 
way.  So  that  mystified  the  people  a  little  and  restored  the 
reputation  of  the  performance,  at  least  for  a  while. 

The  next  trick  was  an  easy  one,  -and  went  oft'  without  any 
slip,  and  was  applauded.  Tom  and  Jonas  had  the  stage  to 
themselves  fora  while,  and  I  staid  out  of  sight  and  scrubbed 
at  the  egg.  But  do  what  I  could,  my  shirt  bosom  was  ruined. 

Then  came  the  "  Watch  Mortar  "  trick,  and  to  my  dying 
day  I  shall  never  forget  how  that  turned  out.  Neither  will 
Tom. 

We  had  an  apparatus  made  to  resemble  an  old-fashioned 
druggists' mortar.  It  was  really  made  of  tin,  in  two  com- 
partments, so  that  any  heavy  object  dropped  into  it  would 
depress  a  false  bottom  and  drop  through  on  a  shelf  back  of 
the  magician's  table,  at  the  same  time  letting  into  the  up- 
per part  of  the  mortar  the  fragments  of  an  old  watch  pre- 
viously pounded  into  bits.  Then  Tom  was  to  pretend  to 
smash  the  borrowed  watch,  and  afterwards  fire  a  pistol  at 
me  and  take  the  real  watch  from  my  vest  pocket,  where  he 
would  place  it  when  he  went  back  of  the  scenes  for  his  pis- 
tol. 

He  described  his  intentions  and  asked  for  a  watch  from 
the  audience.  Uncle  Job  Cavendish,  the  village  barber, 
handed  up  an  old  silver-case  time-piece  that  was  worth 
perhaps  $3. 

Tom  took  it,  and  after  a  good  deal  of  talk,  dropped  it 
down  into  the  mortar,  picked  up  the  ridiculous  club  used 
for  a  pestle,  and  began  to  pound  away.  There  was  a  great 
smashing  sound,  and  poor  Uncle  Job  looked  serious.  But 
he  did  not  begin  to  look  half  so  serious  as  Tom  did,  and  I 
saw  in  a  minute  that  something  was  wrong. 

He  dropped  the  pestle,  and  said  hurriedly  to  the  audi- 
ence, "  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  find  I  have  left  my  pistol 
in  the  other  room.  Excuse  me  while  I  run  after  it." 

Then  Tom  came  into  the  wing  where  I  stood,  and  jerk- 
ing his  own  gold  watch  out  of  his  pocket,  thrust  it  into 
mine,  and  whispered  to  me  fiercely,  "That  mortar  stuck  in 
some  way,  and  I  smashed  Uucle  Job's  watch  into  chicken- 
feed!  Here  is  mine!  I'll  have  to  give  him  something 
back,  or  we'll  be  mobbed  out  of  the  village !" 

Then  he  grabbed  up  the  stage  pistol  and  hurried  back. 
He  rammed  the  remains  of  Uncle  Job's  poor  watch  down 
the  big  mouth  of  the  pistol,  and  I  stepped  forth,  baring  my 
egg- stained  bosom  to  the  pistol  shot.  Bang!  went  the 
powder  from  the  false  chamber  of  the  pistol,  and  Tom, 
with  a  ghastly  smile,  stepped  up  to  me  and  pulled  his 
watch  out  of  my  pocket,  and  with  the  utmost  courage 
leaned  out  over  the  edge  of  the  platform  and  handed  the 
watch  to  Uncle  Job,  saying,  "  Here  you  are,  sir!  Not  only 
as  good  as  new,  but  changed  from  silver  to  gold!" 

Uncle  Job  was  so  taken  by  surprise  that  he  sat  with 
open  mouth.  He  took  the  watch  and  looked  at  it  in  dumb 
astonishment.  The  audience  was  taken  as  much  by  sur- 
prise as  he  was. 

Tom  and  Jonas  held  a  hurried  consultation,  and  at  once 
announced  the  next  trick.  There  was  a  great  deal  of  con- 
fusion in  the  hall.  Several  voices  shouted  out,  "  Show  the 
silver  watch  !"  Tom  paid  no  attention,  and  the  next  half- 
dozen  tricks  were  so  well  done  that  the  people  applauded, 
and  we  began  to  gain  fresh  courage. 

But  alas !  The  next  on  the  programme  was  the  "  Hand- 
kerchief that  will  not  burn." 

Almost  any  one  with  a  little  practice  can  pass  a  hand- 
kerchief obliquely  through  the  flame  of  a  candle  without 
burning  it.  All  that  is  needed  is  the  proper  dexterity. 
And  this  caution  must  be  heeded.  The  handkerchief  must 
be  free  from  cologne  or  perfumery,  which  contains  spirit* 
and  is  very  inflammable. 


703 


THEN    THE    WHOLE    HAT    SEEMED   TO    LET    GO    LIKE    A    BROKEN    RESERVOIR. 


This  was  Jonas^s  trick.  He  called  for  a  lady's  handker- 
chief, and  who  should  hand  one  up  hut  Sally  Conners,  the 
prettiest  girl  in  the  village,  and  the  one  of  all  with  whom 
Jonas  was  smitten. 

But  to  the  grief  of  Jonas,  Sally  was  very  much  addicted 
to  perfumery,  and  had  that  evening  drenched  her  handker- 
chief with  it.  Jonas  lighted  the  caudle,  keeping  up  a  run- 
ning talk  about  making  the  handkerchief  enchanted,  and 
then  he  passed  it  through  the  llame. 

The  effect  could  not  have  been  more  certain  if  he  had 
poured  kerosene  on  the  candle.  Poor  Sally's  delicate  per- 
fume-drenched handkerchief  blazed  up  in  an  instant  like 
a  display  of  fireworks.  Jonas  squeezed  his  hands  around 
the  fragments  that  were  left,  and  danced  around  the  stage, 
howling  at  the  sudden  pain  of  the  burn.  And  the  audience 
•went  wild.  I  thought  it  never  would  stop  laughing.  Tom 
was  desperate.  I  could  see  he  meant  to  conclude  the  per- 
formance before  we  had  ruined  our  reputations  forever. 

With  becoming  modesty  he  addressed  himself  to  the  au- 
dience when  it  had  tired  of  laughing,  and  announced  that 
the  entertainment  would  close  with  the  startling  trick, 
"  The  pudding  in  the  hat." 

He  and  Jonas  had  practised  this  until  they  felt  sure  of 
it.  Like  all  sleight-of-hand  tricks,  it  is  easy  enough  if- 
properly  dour. 

First  Jonas  prepared  a  dish  of  batter  made  of  eggs 
broken  in.  shells  and  all,  a  little  flour,  milk,  raisins,  and  mo- 
lassrs.  A  ridiculous  mixture,  from  which,  he  assured  the 
audience,  would  come  forth  a  beautiful  pudding,  nicely 
baked  in  a  stovepipe  hat,  which  he  would  wear  on  his  own 
head  to  prove  that  there  was  nothing  in  it.  A  sentence 
which  had  a  doable  meaning,  and  to  which  Jonas  fully  as- 
sented in  every  particular  before  the  evening  was  over. 

Well,  the  dish  that  held  the  batter  was  poured  into  the 
bat,  apparently.  ( >('  course  it  was  really  poured  into  a  tin 
which  exactly  fitted  into  the  hat,  and  which  contained 
also  a  second  tin  concealing  the  pudding,  tipped  into  it  by 


Tom  at  the  proper  moment.  Then  the  next  part  of  the 
trick  consisted  in  placing  the  hat  on  Jonas's  head,  while  lie 
was  to  strut  about  the  stage  jauntily.  Then  the  hat  would 
be  removed,  and  lo!  in  the  centre  of  it  would  be  found  the 
pudding  nicely  baked. 

Now,  whether  Tom  made  some  mistake  in  getting  those 
tins  canted  into  the  hat  properly  or  not  will  never  be 
known.  Perhaps  he  pulled  the  hat  down  too  hard  over 
Jouas's  brows  when  he  put  it  on  him,  and  so  loosened 
something.  At  any  rate,  Jonas  had  not  taken  two  steps 
before  a  streak  of  batter  was  seen  running  down  over  hi.s 
face.  Then  the  whole  hat  seemed  to  let  go  like  a  broken 
reservoir,  and  the  milk  and  molasses  and  egg  and  flour 
streamed  down  in  a  shower  over  the  miserable  Jonas. 

He  tried  to  pull  the  hat  off,  and  did  so,  leaving  on  his 
head,  however,  the  tins,  which  gave  him  the  most  aston- 
ishing appearance  possible.  Tom  fell  back  on  the  table  in 
an  agony  of  laughter,  and  in  doing  so  sat  down  on  the  dish 
that  had  contained  the  batter.  The  audience  simply  cried 
itself  hoarse  with  laughter.  Sally  C'o'nners  screamed  with 
all  her  might,  and  all  the  farmers'  boys,  who  were  present 
for  miles  around,  haw-hawed,  and  the  old  folks  almost  died 
looking  at  poor  Jonas.  In  the  midst  of  it  all,  I,  Peter  Sam- 
uels, stage  director,  drew  the  curtain,  and  with  the  other 
two  performers  stole  down  the  back  stairs,  and  made  a  run 
for  home,  and  so  the  great  sleight-of-hand  performance 
came  to  an  eud. 

The  Colby  people  never  forgot  that  performance.  We 
never  did,  either.  Uncle  Job  kept  Tom's  watch  until  he 
left  for  college,  and  then  gave  it  back  to  him,  and  Tom 
bought  him  a  new  silver  time-piece.  The  widow  Colby 
and  her  grandchildren  realized  a  good  sum  from  the  enter- 
tainment, and  the  next  vacation  we  three  boys  spent  in  the 
city.  I  am  afraid  Jonas  has  lost  the  favor  of  Sally  Cou- 
riers, for  she  never  can  speak  of  him  without  laughing. 
But  then  Sally  always  did  laugh  on  almost  any  provoca- 
tion. 


704 


B      ©| 


INTERSCHOL'ASTIC" 
SPORT®! 


SO  FAR  AS  is  KNOWN,  no  schedule  of  Intel-scholastic  track 
and  field  records  has  ever  before  been  printed,  and 
although  the  table  published  in  this  issue  is  as  accurate  as 
can  be  made  utider  the  circumstances,  still  there  are  doubt- 
less a  few  errors  scattered  around  in  it  somewhere  that, 
will  be  discovered  by  sharp-eyed  readers  in  the  very  near 
future.  If  the  latter  will  inform  this  Department  of  the 
mistakes  as  soon  as  they  are  found  out,  the  table  may  be 
depended  upon  to  be  absolutely  exact  the  next  time  it  is 
printed— -and  it  certainly  will  be  ottered  in  better  form. 
To-day  I  have  been  obliged  to  put  two  bicycle  events  and 
two  hammer  and  shot  events  ou  the  list,  because  the  inter- 
scholastic  associations  in  the  various  parts  of  the  country 
are  about  evenly  divided  in  the  choice  of  distances  and  the 
use  of  weights.  I  have  left  out  entirely  such  acrobatic 
events  as  the  hop,  step,  and  jump, and  throwing  the  base- 
ball, because  they  are  not  athletic,  and  do  not  deserve  to 
be  recognized  on  any  interscholastic  programme.  Perhaps 
a  year  from  now  the  school  associations  will  have  come  to 
the  conclusion  that,  take  it  all  in  all,  it  is  really  better  to 
have  a  uniform  measure  of  efficiency  in  sport  as  well  as  in 
anything  else,  and  then  a  comparative  table  will  be  of 
more  value. 

How  is  IT  POSSIBLE  to  gauge  the  performances  of  school 
champions  with  those  of  others — college-men  and  athletic 
club  amateurs — when  we  have  no  common  ratio?  We 
cannot,  of  course.  For  instance,  take  Beers's  record  of 
lof  sec.  in  the  high  hurdles,  made  at  the  New  York  Inter- 
scholastics  last  May.  On  paper  this  looks  very  well.  It 
apparently  beats  the  inter-collegiate  record  made  by  Harry 
Williams  in  1891,  by  one-fifth  of  a  second.  But  it  really 
does  not.  Beers  ran  his  race  over  lower  hurdles,  and  so  it 
is  not  possible  to  make  a  comparison.  The  hurdles  used 
bv  the  N.Y.I.S.A.A.  are  only  3  feet  high,  whereas  the  inter- 
collegiate sticks  are  3  ft.  6  in.  Some  of  the  iuterseholastic 
associations  use  the  standard  3  ft.  6  in.  hurdles,  but  as  it 
was  impossible  to  ascertain  exactly  what  the  records  were 
that  had  been  made  over  these  at  school  meetings  in  the 
past,  I  took  the  fastest  time  over  the  dwarfed  hurdles,  and 
let  it  go  in  as  a  fit  companion  for  the  12-lb.  shot  and  ham- 
mer and  the  mile  bicycle-race. 

IN  THE  FUTURE,  HOWEVER,  I  shall  give  little  attention 
to  these  one-eyed  records.  The  college  associations  have 
set  up  a  standard  of  distance  and  weight  which  experience 
has  shown  to  be  a  good  one.  A  sufficient  number  of  inter- 
scholastic  associations  have  adopted  the  same  standard, 
thereby  making  it  clearly  evident  that  it  is  none  too  high 
for  school-boy  athletes.  Therefore,  in  making  out  a  com- 
parative table  of  college  and  school  records,  this  Depart- 
ment will  accept  the  standard  established  by  the  I.C.A.A.A. 
and  adopted  by  the  majority  of  the  interscholastic  associ- 
ations. If  in  the  near  future  a  general  interscholastic 
league  is  formed,  I  feel  sure  that  its  legislators  will  agree 
with  me  in  this,  and  will  adopt  the  same  course  when  they 
lay  out  their  programme. 

IT  is  TO  BE  REGRETTED  that  the  Oakland,  Cal.,  High- 
School  athletic  team  was  unable  to  accept  the  Stockton 
High-School's  challenge  for  dual  games  to  be  held  on  June 
15th  last,  but  unless  something  unforeseen  turns  up  the 
meeting  will  be  held  soon  after  the  next  school  term 
begins,  which  is  in  August.  The  California  schools  open 
about  five  weeks  earlier  than  our  Eastern  institutions,  and 
the  football  season  with  them,  therefore,  starts  in  the 
closing  days  of  summer.  There  will  also,  be  the  semi-an- 
nual field  day  of  the  Academic  Athletic  League  at  about 


that  time,  or  in  September,  and  bicycle  road  races,  in 
which  teams  from  the  several  schools  of  the  A.A.L.  will  be 
matched  against  one  another.  At  the  field  day  there  will 
be  a  contest  for  the  all  'round  championship  of  the  Pacific 
Coast  Association.  Five  or  six  events  will  be  selected 
from  the  programme,  and  every  competitor  for  the  cham- 
pionship will  have  to  compete  in  each  one,  the  champion 
to  be  the  winner  of  the  greatest  number  of  points. 

THE  OBJECT  OF  THIS  athletic  Department  in  HARPER'S 
ROUND  TABLE  is  not  only  to  criticise  and  comment  upon 
the  various  sports  of  the  calender,  but  also  to  explain  any 
intricate  points  of  these  games,  to  answer  questions  on 
matters  of  sport  and  athletics,  and  to  give  all  such  infor- 
mation as  shall  justly  come  under  the  head  of  Inter- 
scholastic  Sport.  A  number  of  correspondents  have  re- 
quested that  some  space  be  devoted  to  an  explanation  of 
the  "100-up"  method  of  scoring  in  tennis,  and  to  give  the 
rules  for  odds.  This  "100-up"  method,  sometimes  called 
the  "  Pastime  "  system,  was  devised  a  few  years  ago  to  meet 
the  defects  of  the  old  system  of  scoring,  which  had  been 
handed  down  to  us  from  the  ancient  English  game  of  ten- 
nis. The  latter  has  a  good  many  disadvantages  in  spite  of 
its  universal  use,  the  chief  objection  being  that  it  frequent- 
ly happens  in  a  match  that  a  player  scores  more  strokes,  or 
even  more  games,  than  his  antagonist,  and  yet  is  beaten. 
This,  of  course,  is  manifestly  unfair;  and  as  for  handicaps, 
in  which  more  than  two  players  are  competing,  the  com- 
plex and  unsatisfactory  system  of  adjusting  the  odds  ac- 
cording to  the  old  way  is  unnecessarily  complicated. 

THE  RULES  FOR  THE  "  100-up  "  method  are  comparatively 
simple  and  very  easily  reiuemhi-ivd  after  having  been  used 
once  or  twice.  The  player  who  serves  first  must  serve  six 
times  in  succession,  and  then  his  opponent  does  the  same, 
the  service  changing  always  after  each  one  -has  served  six 
consecutive  times.  One  fault  and  one  good  service ;  two 
faults;  or  one  good  service  counts  as  a  service.  After  the 
first,  third,  fifth,  or,  in  other  words,  every  alternate  series  of 
service,  the  players  change  courts,  thus  making  each  six 
successive  services  one  series  of  services.  The  first  player 
to  score  one  hundred  points  wins  the  game  ;  but  the  match 
can  be  played  for  any  number  of  points — more  or  less  than 
a  hundred — as  the  contestants  may  agree  upon  beforehand. 
The  usual  figure,  however,  is  one  hundred.  If  the  score 
comes  to  be  99-all.  play  goes  on  as  before,  uutil  one  of  the 
players  has  a  majority  of  two  points.  He  then  wins;  but 
no  game  can  be  won  by  a  lesser  majority  than  two  points. 

THE  ODDS  IN  THE  REGULAR  old  -  fashioned  method  of 
counting  are,  briefly,  thus:  A  "bisque"  is  one  point  that 
can  be  taken  by  the  receiver  of  the  odds  at  any  time  during 
the  set  except  after  a  service  is  delivered,  or,  if  he  is  serv- 
ing, after  a  fault.  "Half  fifteen"  is  one  stroke  given  at 
the  beginning  of  the  second,  fourth,  and  every  alternate 
game  of  a  set,  and  "  fifteen  "  is  one  stroke  given  at  the  be- 
ginning of  every  game.  lu  the  same  way  "  thirty  "  is  two 
strokes  given  at  the  beginning  of  every  game,  whereas 
"half  thirty"  is  one  stroke  given  at  the  beginning  of  the 
first  game,  two  at  the  beginning  of  the  second,  one  at  the 
beginning  of  the  third,  and  so  on,  two  and  one,  alternately, 
until  the  end  of  the  set.  "  Forty  "  is  three  strokes  before 
every  game,  "  half  forty  "  three  and  two,  alternately,  as  be- 
fore. "Owed  odds"  signifies  that  the  giver  of  the  odds 
starts  behind  scratch.  Thus  "owe  half  fifteen  "  means  that 
one  stroke  is  owed  at  the  beginning  of  the  first,  third,  fifth, 
and  every  alternate  game  of  the  set.  Other  "owed  iul<K 
are  reckoned  inversely  in  the  same  manner  as  given  odds. 


705 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


INTERSCHOLASTIC    RECORDS   OP   THE   VNITK1)   STATES,  1595. 


Event. 

Record 

Maker. 

School. 

Tin,.-  ami  place. 

10  1-5  sec. 
222-5    " 
503-5    " 
2  m.    4  1-5    " 
4    '   342-5    " 
7    '    17  3-5    " 
15  3-5    " 
261-2    " 
2    '341-5    " 
5    '    IS  2-5    " 
5  ft.  11          in. 
21    '     6 
10    •     7 
125    ' 
111    '   10 
40    '        3-4    " 
39    '     3 

F.  II.  Bigelow. 
F.  H   Bigelow. 
T.  E.  Burke. 
J.  A.  Me-ehan. 

\\*    T.  LailiL'. 
A.  N.  Butler. 
A.  F.  Beers, 
Field. 
I.  A.  Powell. 
Baker. 
S.  A.  W.  Baltazzi. 
C.  Brewer. 
B.  Johnson. 
R.  F.  Johnson. 
F.  G.  Beck. 
A.  ('.  Ayree 
M.  O'l'.n-n 

Worcester  II.-S. 
\Vorcesier  11.  -s. 
Boston  Engibh  H.-S. 
Condon,  N.Y. 
Phillips  Academy,  Amlover. 
Hillliouse  H.-S  ,  New  Haven. 
De  La  Salle,  N.Y. 
Hartford  H.-S. 
Cutler,  N.Y. 
Hotchkiss,  Lakeville,  Conn. 
Harvard,  N.Y. 
Hopkinson,  Boston. 
Worcester  Academy. 
Brookline  H.-S. 
Hillhouse  H.-S.,  New  Haven. 
Condon,  N.Y. 
Boston  English  H.-S. 

N.E.I.S.A.A.  games,  1894. 
N.E.I.S.A.A.  games,  1S94. 
N.E.I  S.A  A.  games,  1894. 
N.Y.I  s.A  A.  game-  May  11   1S95 

Mile  run 

N.E.I.S.A.A.  games,  1-U4. 
Conn.  H.-S.A.  A.  games.  June  S,  1S95. 
N.Y.I.  S.A.  A.  .games.  .May  11,  1S95. 
Conn.  H  -S.A.A.  games,  June  S.  1S95. 
N.Y.I.  S.A.A.  games,  May  11,  1S95. 
Conn.  II  -s  A.  A.  games,  June  9,1896. 
N.Y  I..  S.A.A.  LMiii'-s,  Mav  11,  1S95. 
N  E.I.  S.A.  A.  games,  1390 
N.E.I.S.A.A.  games,  June  15,  1S95. 
N.E.I  S.A  A.  games  1S94. 

Running  high  jump  
Running  broad  jump  .  .  . 

Throwing  12-11).  hammer 
Throwing  16-lb.  hammer 

Conn.  H.-S.A.  A.  games,  June  S,  1895. 
N.Y.  I.  S.A.  A.  games,  Jlay  11,  1895. 
N.E.I.  S.  A.  A.  games,  1894. 

Putting  16-lb.  shot  

If  a  player  gives  odds  of  "  half  court,"  lie  agrees  to  play  in 
a  rrrtain  half  of  the  court,  either  the  right  or  the  left,  and 
he  loses  a  stroke  wheuever  he  returns  a  ball  outside  any  of 
the  lines  that  bound  that  half  court. 

BUT  THE  NEWEST  OF  ALL  the  systems  of  odds,  and  the  one 
now  most  generally  used  by  experts,  is  called  the  "quarter  " 
system.  In  this  method  fifteen  is  divided  into  four  quar- 
ters, and  thus  a  closer  handicap  may  be  obtained.  "One 
quarter  "of  fifteen  is  one  stroke  given  at  the  beginning 
of  the  second,  sixth,  and  every  fourth  game  thereafter  in 
the  set.  "Two  quarters"  (the  "half  fifteen"  spoken  of 
above)  is  one  stroke  at  the  beginning  of  the  second,  fourth, 
sixth,  etc.,  games.  "Three  quarters"  is  one  stroke  at  the 
In  Burning  of  the  second,  third,  fourth,  sixth,  seventh,  and 
eighth  games,  and  so  on.  When  it  is  "odds  owed,"  as  be- 
fore, "one  quarter"  is  one  stroke  in  the  first  aud  fifth 
games;  "  two  quarters  "  is  one  stroke  iu  the  first  and  third  ; 
and  ".three  quarters"  is  one  stroke  in  the  first,  third,  and 
fourth  games,  and  so  on  to  the  end  of  the  set.  In  order  t<> 
get  odds  at  a  similar  ratio  when  the  match  is  being  sroivd 
on  the  "  100-up  "  system,  the  following  table  of  equivalents 
has  been  adopted : 


1  quarter  of  15=  5  points  per  100 

2  quarters    "        11      " 

3  "         "        15     " 
15            ••         "        22      " 

15.1  "          "        27      " 

15.2  "          "        32      " 


15.3  q't'rs  of  15=3S  points  per  100 
30  '        43 

80.1  '        49         "  " 

30.2  •       54 

30.3  '        59         "  " 
40                   '        65        " 


THE  pRixcii'Ai,  DiFKici'LTY  about  this  new  system  of 
odds,  except  for  experts  and  for  those  who  play  constant- 
ly, is  the  difficulty  of  remembering  it.  It  certainly  takes 
more  study  to  become  familiar  with  it  than  with  the  old 
halt-point  system.  In  that  the  odds  change  at  every  game, 
aud  change  duvet  ly  back  again  even  when  most  compli- 
catecl, so  that  i rally  all  thrrr  is  tn  rruiember  is  which  odds 
came  \\ith  tin- service.  The  chief  advantage  of  the"  quar- 
fcer"system  is  that  it  affords  greater  accuracy,  and  to  ex- 
perts this  is  a  siit'lirient  compensation  for  its  intricacy.  I 
should  not  advise  the  average  player,  however,  to  bother 
with  it,  for,  unless  he  intends  to  try  for  a  national  cham- 
pionship, life  is  too  short  to  devote  many  hours  of  study  to 
the  "  quarter"  system. 

ANOTHER  CORKKSI'C  INDENT  ASKS  tor  information  as  to  the 
best  way  to  get  up  a  tennis  tournament,  and  now  that  we 
are  on  the  subject  of  tennis,  his  query  might  just  as  well  be 
disposed  of.  A  tournament,  like  anything  else,  demands 
time  and  care  in  preparation  if  it  is  to  be  a  success.  Dou't 
put  off  everything  until  the  last  moment,  or  the  day  will 
surely  he  a  failure;  whereas,  if  thought  is  given  to  all  the 
small  details  that  go  to  make  such  an  occasion  enjoyable, 
everything  will  go  as  easily  as  rolling  off  a  log.  In  the 
liist  plaor.  those  who  want  to  arrange  a  tournament,  or  the 
committee  which  has  been  chosen  to  make  the  arrange- 
ments, should  get  together  and  discuss  the  situation  and 
decide  what  they  want  to  do  and  bow  they  want  to  do  it. 
In  this  preliminary  talk  a  calculation  of  expenses  should 
first  be  made.  Find  out  how  much  money  will  probably 
be  required,  and  then,  as  a  measure  of  safety,  add  about 
ten  per  cent,  to  that,  for  expenses  are  usually  uuderest ima  led. 


Having  determined  how  much  money  will  be  needed,  make 
arrangements  for  securing  that  amount  either  by  subscrip- 
tion, entrance  fees,  or  sale  of  tickets.  If  the  tournament  is 
to  be  conducted  by  a  club,  there  will  probably  be  some  money 
in  the  treasury  that  can  be  used.  It  is  not  usually  advis- 
able, and  seldom  practicable  at  an  impromptu  summer 
tennis  tournament,  to  demand  admission  fees  of  the  spec- 
tators. 

THE  FINANCIAL  PART  OF  THE  enterprise  having  now  been 
attended  to,  a  treasurer  should  be  appointed  to  take  charge 
of  the  funds,  and  to  keep  an  account  of  all  receipts  and  ex- 

INTER-COLLEGIATE  EECOKDS  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES,  1895. 


Event. 

Record. 

Made  by. 

f  E.  3.  Wendell,  Harvard  ;  W. 
Baker,    Harvard  ;    C.  H. 

'^1  4-5  " 

Princeton  ;    E.'  S.  Rams- 
[     dell,  Penn. 

Quarter-mile  run  

47  3-4  " 

W.  Bakerf'Ha'rvard. 

4  ll   23  2-5  " 

120-yard  hurdle  
220-yard  hurdle  
Two-mile  bicycle  
Running  high  ]ump.  . 
Running  broad  jump. 

154-5  " 
243-5  " 
4  "   10          " 
r,  ft.    4        in. 
23  " 
11  "     2  3-4  " 

H.'L.  Williams,  Vale. 

J.  L.  Breiner,  Harvard. 
W.  D.  Osgood,  Penn. 
W.  B.  Page,  Penn. 
L.  P.  Sheldon,  Yale. 

Throwing  16-lb.  ham'r 
Putting  16-lb.  shot.. 

135  "     7  1-2  " 
44  "     1  1-2  " 

W.  O.  Hickok,  Yale. 
W.  O.  Hickok,  Yal.-. 

peuditures.  Of  course,  if,  as  I  have  said  before,  the  tourna- 
ment is  being  held  by  a  club,  many  of  these  details  are  al- 
ready fulfilled  by  previous  organization.  The  date  shmihl 
be  the  nest  thing  decided.  In  each  instance  then-  \\ill 
be  many  circumstances  affecting  this  date.  If  the  idea  of 
having  a  tournament  is  being  discussed  with  a  view  to 
holding  it  later  iu  the  summer,  find  out  what  players  will 
be  in  the  neighborhood  at  that  time,  and  try  to  invite 
players  to  visit  the  locality  at  about  that  period.  If  you 
only  have  a  week  or  ten  days  in  which  to  make  your  prep- 
arations (for  a  small  tournament),  try  to  lix  on  a  day  when 
there  will  be  nothing  else  of  importance  going  on  near  by. 
The  chief  object  of  the  managers  or  of  the  committee 
should  be  to  secure  as  large  an  attendance  as  possible,  for  a 
crowd  will  encourage  the  players  to  better  effort. 

THE  DATE  HAVING  BEEN  settled  upon,  send  out  notices. 
State  clearly  all  the  facts.  Say  at  what  place,  on  what 
date,  and  at  what  time  of  day  the  tournament  is  to  be  held  : 
aud  also  under  whose  auspices.  Give  a  list  of  the  events 
— such  as  men's  singles,  doubles,  women's  singles,  mixed 
doubles, or  whatever  there  is  to  be;  state  the  requirements 
for  entrances,  and  give  the  date  when  entries  close.  Be 
sure  to  give  the  name  and  address  of  the  person  who  has 
been  assigned  to  receive  these  entries.  State  also  in  the  no- 
tice the  hours  of  play,  the  number  of  sets  to  the  match,  the 
kind  of  balls  that  are  to  be  used,  aud  announce  any  special 
regulations  that  it  may  have  been  found  necessary  to 
adopt.  Finally,  enumerate  the  prizes;  but  remember  that 
it  is  always  in  better  taste  to  make  these  inexpensive  aud 
more  iu  the  nature  of  souvenirs  of  the  occasion  than 
trophies. 


706 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


THE  NOTICES  DISPOSED  OF  and  sent  out, 
the  managers  should  now  see  that  the  courts 
are  rolled  and  otherwise  put  in  order,  so 
tbat  they  may  be  in  the  best  possible  con- 
dition on  the  day  sot  for  the  tournament. 
There  should  be  a  plentiful  supply  of  halls, 
for  sometimes  an  entire  box  is  used  in  a 
match.  In  large  tournaments  I  have  seen 
the  players  dispose  of  a  box  every  set.  At 
each  end  of  the  net  put  up  a  couple  of 
chairs  on  boxes  for  the  umpires,  and  arrange 
seats  about  the  court  for  the  spectators. 
If  there  are  not  enough  chairs  and  benches 
handy,  lay  boards  on  boxes,  and  so  produce 
impromptu  setters.  Don't  fail  to  hire  a 
couple  of  boys  to  pick  up  the  balls. 

ALL  THESE  DETAILS  ARE  necessary  ones ; 
there  are  a  few  others  that  might  be  termed 
luxuries, such  as  having  printed  tickets  and 
programmes,  and  an  awning  stretched  along 
one  side  of  the  court  to  shelter  the  ladies 
from  the  sun.  One  more  necessary  point, 
however,  is  to  secure  competent  judges  and 
umpires,  otherwise  something  might  occur 
during  play  that  would  mar  the  pleasure  of 
the  day.  Of  course  it  would  be  a  misunder- 
standing, but  this  can  be  easily  avoided  by 
having  officials  fully  conversant  with  the 
game  and  familiar  with  the  duties  required 
of  them. 

AFTER  ALL  THE  RXTHIES  have  been  re- 
ceived, raalie  the  drawings,  and,  if  possible, 
post  them  somewhere  where  all  those  in- 
terested in  tiie  coming  tournament  will  be 
able  to  see  them.  When,  on  the  day  set, 
the  hour  to  begin  play  arrives,  start  prompt- 
ly. Delay  is  always  fatal  to  the  success  of 
any  sporting  event.  People  don't  like  to  sit 
around  and  wait.  But  all  that  I  have  said 
here  is  merely  in  the  line  of  suggestion. 
Many  little  matters  crop  up  as  soon  as  any 
enterprise  of  this  kind  is  entered  iuto,  and 
these  questions  have  to  be  settled  accord- 
ing to  the  emergency.  Let  the  central  idea 
De  to  anticipate'  anything  that  might  hap- 
pen; then,  as  a  rule,  nothing  will  happen. 
THE  GRADUATE. 


This  Department  is  coti.hu  tt:<l  in  Hie  interest  of  stamp  and  coin 
collectors,  and  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to  answer  any  question  on 
these  subjects  so  far  as  possible.  Correspondents  should  address  Editor 
Stamp  Department. 

HOW  TO  CATCH  CLOUDS. 


7th. 

llth. 
14th. 

ITth. 
21st. 
2Sth. 
31st. 


About 

this 

time 

look 

oat 

for 

storms. 


THIS  was  usually  the  weather  warning 
in  the  old -time  almanacs  which  the 
farmer  was  intho  habit  of  consulting  night- 
ly, in  order  to  make  his  plans  for  his  haying 
or  harvesting,  his  sowing  or  reaping,  the 
success  of  which  depended  on  the  state  of 
the  weather. 

The  amateur  photographer  who  makes  a 
specialty  of  landscapes  should  put  this 
warning  iu  his  note-book,  substituting  the 
word  clouds  for  that  of  storms,  changing  it 
to  read,  "  About  this  time  look  out  for 
clouds." 


A  picture  of  a  landscape  with  clouds  in 
the  sky  is  much  finer  than  where  the  sky  is 
perfectly  white,  and  cloud  pictures  them- 
selves are  very  interesting. 

It  is  not  an  easy  matter  to  catch  the 
clouds  even  when  the  sky  is  full  of  them. 
If  they  are  obtaiued  iu  the  negative,  they 
are  usually  lost  in  the  printing,  as  the  land- 
scape portion  of  the  negative,  being  less 


PHOTOGRAPH    TAKEN    IN    THE    TYROL,   SHOWING 
CLOUD    EFFECT. 

dense  than  the  sky,  prints  much  more  quick- 
ly, and  to  obtain  a  print  of  the  clouds  the 
lines  of  the  landscape  would  be  almost  black 
from  over-printing. 

There  is  a  device  called  a  "  cloud-catch- 
er," which  is  a  shutter  so  arranged  with  ad- 
justable disks  that  the  foreground  or  laud- 
scape  part  of  the  picture  is  given  a  time 
exposure,  while  the  sky  is  taken  instanta- 
neously. This  is  supposed  to  give  the 
proper  tiuie  of  exposure  for  each  part  of  the 
picture. 

The  amateur  cannot  always  afford  such 
an  attachment,  and,  in  order  to  obtain 
clouds  in  his  landscapes,  must  resort  to  va- 
rious devices  of  developing  and  printing. 


The  most  common  method  is  to  take  two 
pictures,  one  exposed  for  the  sky,  and  tho 
other  for  the  landscape,  and  print  from 
both  negatives.  In  printing  from  a  "  sky  "- 
and-"  landscape"  negative,  print  the  sky 
li-st.  covering  the  part  of  the  sensitive  paper 
•_>n  which  the  landscape  is  to  be  printed. 
After  printing  the  sky,  place  the  other 
negative  iu  the  frame  and  print  the  land- 
scape. It  does  not  matter  if  the  opaque 
paper  which  covers  the  landscape  does  not 
follow  the  horizon  lines  exactly,  as  the 
darker  tones  of  the  landscape  will  bint  nut 
tlie  outlines  of  the  clouds  if  they  lap  on  the 
horizou. 

If  one  has  a  negative  where  the  clouds 
are  good  but  will  not  print  out  unless  tho 
rest  of  the  picture  is  over-printed,  a  good 
print  may  be  obtained  by  this  simple  de- 
vice :  Take  an  empty  tin-can  a  little  longer 
than  the  printing-frame.  Cut  off  the  inp 
and  bottom,  and  cut  the  can  iu  two  the  long 
way.  Tliis  will  give  you  a  piece  of  rolled 
tin.  Flatten  one  edge,  leaving  the  other 
curved.  Attach  the  flat  edge  to  the  side  of 
the  printing-frame  so  as  to  shield  the  laud- 
scape  part  of  the  negative.  This  will  make 
a  shade  for  this  part  of  the  negative,  which 
prints  the  fastest,  and  thus  retard  the 
printing,  allowing  the  denser  portions  a 
longer  time  to  print.  A  shaded  negative 
should  always  be  printed  iu  diffused  light, 
not  iu  the  direct  rays  of  the  sun. 

Pictures  of  clouds,  or  ratber,/a/se  clouds, 
are  made  by  holding  the  negative  over  the 
llame  of  a  caudle  and  letting  the  glass  side 
become  covered  with  lamp-black.  Then, 
with  a  soft  tuft  of  cotton, wipe  oft' the  smoke 
in  places,  leaving  the  outlines  of  clouds  on 
the  glass.  Very  good  clouds  can  be  made 
by  this  method  with  a  little  practice.  Au- 
other  way  is  to  attach  a  piece  of  fine  tissue- 
paper  to  the  negative  and  sketch  clouds  in 
the  sky  portion,  unless  the  sky  is  very  dense. 
A  thin  sky  is  often  improved  by  these  sham 
clouds. 

The  picture  which  we  reproduce  here  was 
taken  115-  Sir  Knight  Sidney  Stearns,  of 
Cleveland,  Ohio.  It  was  taken  at  Halle  in 
the  Tyrol,  time  nearly  sunset.  The  sun,  as 
may  lie  seen  by  looking  at  the  picture, 
is  at  the  left  of  the  camera  and  well 
1n\\ard  the  front.  This  is  usually  the  best 
direction  from  which  the  strongest  light 
should  tall,  either  from  the  left  or  right  and 
near  the  front  of  the  camera.  Oueslmnlil 
seldom  or  never  take  a  picture  with  the 
sun  directlv  behind  the  camera. 


ADVERTISEMENTS. 


Highest  of  all  in  Leavening  Power. — Latest  U.  S.  Gov't  Report 


Baking 
Powder 


ABSOLUTELY  PURE 


WONDER  CABINET  FREE.  Missin*  Link 
Poiila  Devil's  Bottle.  Pocket  Camera,  Uuit 
WlwPnwte,  Spook  Photos.  Book  of  Sleigbtof 
Hand,  Total  Value  GOc.  Sent  free  with  immenM 
' 


707 


HARPER'S  BOUND  TABLE 


route. 

lul  /*/•  b/cyc/e  foaa. 
tvdy  station. 


BICYCLING 


c      o 


Copyright,  1S95,  by  Harper  &  Brothers. 


This  Department  is  conducted  in  the  interest  of  Bicyclers,  and  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to 
answer  any  question  on  the  subject.  Our  maps  and  tours  contain  much  valuable  data  kindly 
supplied  from  the  official  maps  and  road-bonks  of  the  League  of  American  Wheelmen.  Recog- 
nizing the  value  of  the  work  being  done  by  the  L  A.  W.,  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to  furnish 
subscribers  with  membership  blanks  and  information  so  far  aa  possible. 

fT^HE  FINAL  RUN  IJCTO  Albany  on  the  road  from  New  York, 
JL  according  to  the  plan  which  we  have  been  following — 
that  is,  of  making  the  journey  in  four  days — is  from  Hud- 
son to  Albany,  a  distance  of  twenty-eight  to  thirty  miles. 
Leaving  Hudson,  which  was  the  northernmost  point  reach- 
ed on  last  week's  map,  the  rider  goes  out  on  to  the  main 
road  by  the  way  of  Fourth  Street  and  Pond  Road,  and 
thence  follows  the  telegraph  poles  direct  to  Stockport, 
passing  through  Stottville.  The  road  is  hilly  while  run- 
ning from  the  town  of  Hudson,  and  about  half-way  from 
Stottville  to  Stockport  there  is  another  rather  stiff  hill. 
The  distance  is  a  little  over  five  miles,  and  the  road  is  poor, 
on  the  whole, owing  to  its  rolling  nature  and  the  fact  that 
the  road-bottom  is  largely  clay.  From  Stockport  to  Stuy- 
vesaut  Falls  it  improves  a  little,  though  it  is  somewhat 
hilly.  The  rider  should  follow  the  telegraph  poles  all  the 
way,  and  keep  a  sharp  lookout  for  L.A.W.  signs,  which  will 
be  of  great  assistance  wherever  they  are  found.  This  rim 
is  ahout  three  and  three-quarters  or  four  miles,  and  the 
uext  stage,  from  Stuyvesaut  Falls  to  Kiuderhook,  is  four 
miles.  There  is  no  difficulty  in  following  the  road, 
with  the  possible  exception  of  an  abrupt  fork  about  one 
and  one-half  or  two  miles  out  of  Stuyvesant  Falls.  Here, 
of  course,  the  rider  should  keep  to  the  right  on  the  main, 
road.  From  Kiuderhook  to  Pine  Grove  is  a  little  under  five 
miles.  Keep  to  the  left  at  Kiuderhook  after  leaving  the 
Kinderhook  Hotel,  keeping  always  to  the  Albany  Post  Koad 
with  the  telegraph  poles.  Thence  continue  from  Pine 
Grove  to  Schodack  Centre,  and  -when  you  have  made  four 
and  one-half  miles,  and  crossed  two  small  bridges,  turn  to 
the  right  at  Willow  Trees,  whence  the  run  to  Schodack 
Centre  is  clearly  marked,  a  distance,  in  all,  of  a  little  over 
eight  miles.  From  here  the  run  to  the  Hudson,  opposite 
Albany,  passes  through  East  Greenhush,  three  miles  away, 
and  finally  brings  up  at  the  Hudson  at  South  Bridge,  a 
little  less  than  five  miles  further.  This  last  stage  of 
the  journey  is  somewhat  hilly  again,  and  there  is  a  bad 
descent  just  before  reaching  Greenbush,  where  the  rider 
should  take  the  utmost  care,  owing  to  the  fact  that  the 
hill  itself  is  bad,  and  the  difficulty  complicated  by  a  rail- 
road crossing.  On  reaching  the  Hudson  the  rider  should 
cross  on  South  Bridge,  and  running  into  Albany  turn  into 
Broadway,  thence  to  State  Street,  thence  to  North  Pearl 
Street,  and  finally  put  up  at  the  Keumore  Hotel. 

WHILK  THIS  RUN  FROM  New  York  to  Albany  is  in  parts 
hilly,  and  while  occasionally  the  rider  will  strike  a  bit  of 
difficult  road,  it  is  nevertheless  one  of  the  best  bicycle  trips 
in  the  United  States,  not  only  on  account  of  the  condition 
of  the  roads,  but  on  account  of  its  picturesque  and  his- 
torical interest.  As  was  said  last  week,  any  one  who  in- 
tends to  take  the  trip,  or  who  can  give  the  time  to  it,  is 
strongly  advised  to  take  a  week  to  do  it  in,  to  cross  the 
Hudson  several  times  on  the  way,  and  make  short  runs  into 
the  country  on  the  other  side.  It  is  possible  in  this  way 
for  a  rider  of  reasonable  experience  to  see  practically  the 
whole  of  the  Hudson  River  valley  between  these  two  points, 
and  to  have  a  fine  outing  without  doing  too  much  "scorch- 
ing," or,  on  the  other  hand,  taking  the  journey  too  slowly. 
The  distance  from  New  York  to  Albany,  or  rather  from 
Central  Park  and  110th  Street  to  the  Kenmore  Hotel,  is 
one  hundred  and  fifty-three  and  three-quarter  miles,  and 
by  taking  seven  or  eight  days  to  the  trip,  the  rider  cau 
easily  cover  three  to  four  hundred  miles  in  his  excursions 
off  the  main  route. 

NOTK.— Map  of  New  York  city  asphalted  streets  in  No.  809.  Map  of 
route  from  New  York  to  Tarrvtown  in  No.  810.  New  York  to  Stamford. 
Connecticut,  in  No.  Sll.  New  York  to  Staten  Islaiid  in  No.  812.  New 
Jersey  from  Hobokeu  to  Pine  Brook  in  No.  813.  Brooklyn  in  NIL  M4 
Brooklyn  to  Babylon  in  No.  815.  Brooklyn  to  Nortbport  in  No.  816. 
Tarrvtown  to  Poughkeepsie  in  No.  317.  Poughkeepsie  to  Hudson  in. 
No.  SIS. 


708 


HAKPEK'S   ROUND   TABLE 


THE 

HPUDDING 
STICK 


Tliis  Department  is  con.lucted  in  the  interest  of  Girla  and  Young 
Woinpn,  and  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to  answer  any  question  on 
the  subject  ao  fur  as  possible.  Correspondents  should  address  Editor. 

I  HA  YE  talked  to  you  about  notes  aud 
letters  iu  a  previous  number  of  the  pa- 
per, but  some  of  my  ROUND  TABLE  readers 
ask  to  have  the  subject  treated  again,  with 
special  atteutiou  to  correspondence  of  a 
ceremonious  character. 

A  note  of  invitation  should  be  very  cor- 
dial, affectionate,  and  explicit.  You  should 
state  clearly  in  such  a  note  the  day  aud 
train  which  you  would  like  your  friend  to 
take,  and  the  length  of  time  you  expect  her 
to  stay  with  you.  Formerly  it  was  regard- 
ed as  inhospitable  to  limit  in  any  way  the 
duration  of  a  frieud's  visit,  but  we  under- 
stand now  that  it  is  more  convenient  aud 
comfortable  for  all  concerned  to  have  the 
precise  number  of  days  or  weeks  indicated. 
This  arrangement  enables  your  friends  to 
make  other  engagements,  aud  leaves  you 
free  to  invite  other  friends  if,  as  often  hap- 
pens, you  can  have  the  pleasure  of  euter- 
taiuing  successive  guests  during  a  summer. 
Let  me  give  you  some  examples. 

Mary  Hills  wishes  to  ask  Abby  Lewis  to 
spend  a  week  with  her  at  Dove's  Nest  in 
the  Catskills,  Mary's  country  home.  Her 
letter  of  iuvitation  might  be  written  as  fol- 
lows: 

DOVE'S  NKBT,  TANNERSVILI.E  P.O., 
NEW  YOKK. 

DEAREST  ABBY,  —  It  seems  very  long 
since  I  saw  you.  Mamma  and  I  were  talk- 
ing last  night  about  the  delightful  visit  we 
had  at  your  home  just  before  the  Vau  Blar- 
•coms  went  abroad.  It  is  very  lovely  at 
Dove's  Nest  now,  and  we  are  anxious  to 
have  you  see  the  pla.ce  while  our  sweet- 
pease  and  nasturtiums  are  in  bloom.  Won't 
you  come  on  Thursday,  the  twentieth,  by 
the  ten-o'clock  train  (West  Shore),  and  stay 
with  me  till  Monday,  the  thirty- first?  I 
will  meet  you  at  the  station  on  Thursday 
afternoon.  We  have  a  new  golf  course,  aud 

1  sorts  of  pleasant  things  are  going  on. 

Hoping  soon  to  see  you,  I  am,  dear  Abby, 
Yours  lovingly, 

MARY  HILLS. 

July  fifteenth,  eighteen — 

Abby's  reply  would  probably  be  sorne- 
•what  like  this: 

1S2  SEVENTY-EIGUTH  STREET,  NEW  YORK. 
DEAR,  DEAR  MAUY, — How  good  you  are 
to  ask  uie  for  so  charming  a  visit!  It  will 
give  me  the  greatest  pleasure  to  go  to  yon 
on  the  twentieth  aud  to  stay  for  ten  days, 
as  you  suggest.  You  may  expect  to  see  me 
flying  down  the  station  to  meet  you  when 
the  ten-o'clock  train  reaches  the  mountains 
on  that  afternoon.  I  can  hardly  wait  for 
the  blissful  time  to  arrive.  Mamma  sends 
her  love,  and  I  am,  as  ever, 

Devotedly  yours, 

ABBY  LEWIS. 

A  household  critic  suggests  to  ine  at  this 
point  that  "  Dearest  Abby  "  aud  "  Dear, 
•dear  Mary,"  are  rather  gushing,  aud  not 
quite  in  the  approved  literary  style  which 
ought  to  be  shown  to  girls.  But  I  am  talk- 
lug  to  real  girls,  aud  I  know  how  they  write, 


and  I  don't  mind  in  the  least  a  little  effer- 
vescence in  the  way  of  adjectives.  I  like 
girls  to  call  me  "Dearest"  when  they  write 
to  me,  aud  I  don't  mind  their  saying  "  Dear" 
to  one  another  over  aud  over  again. 

How  much  luggage  you  must  take  wheu 
going  on  a  visit  depends  on  the  length  of 
the  visit  and  the  number  of  engagements  it 
will  include.  As  a  rule,  iu  our  changeable 
climate  you  will  need,  iu  going  away  from 
home,  something  thick  and  something  thin. 
A  trunk  is  a  great  comfort,  though  one  can 
manage  with  a  large  bag  or  a  telescope, 
while  a  man's  suit-case  lends  itself  finely  to 
the  folding  of  a  girl's  gown. 

With  two  or  three  pretty  shirt-waists 
and  a  nice  skirt,  a  simple  dress  for  evenings, 
and  a  warm  stuff  costume  of  serge  or  flan- 
nel for  cool  or  rainy  mornings,  a  girl  will 
be  supplied  for  every  needful  requirement. 
One's  own  dainty  home  wardrobe  is  suf- 
ficient for  a  visit,  and  if  the  sailor  hat  be 
trim,  the  shoes  and  gloves  in  order,  and  the 
girl  carry  herself  gracefully,  nobody  will 
think  a  second  time  about  her  dress. 

As  soon  as  possible  after  a  journey  lay 
aside  your  travelling  dress,  and  make  a  fresh 
toilette  before  joining  the  family.  Try  to 
ascertain  the  family  habits,  aud  conform  to 
them. 

I  heard  not  long  ago  of  a  girl,  said  to 
be  very  clever  and  bright,  who  exclaimed  : 
"Make  my  own  bed!  Why,  I  wouldn't 
know  how  to  begin  !  I  couldn't  get  the 
sheets  on  straight  !"  She  wasn't  a  Pudding 
Stick  girl  of  mine,  I'm  happy  to  say.  More 
on  this  subject  next  time. 


SICKNESS  AMONG  CHILDREN 
is  prevalent  at  all  seasons  of  the  year,  but  can  be 
avoided  largely  when  they  are  properly  cared  for. 
/«/a?iC  Health,  is  the  title  of  a  valuable  pamphlet 
accessible  to  all  who  will  send  address  to  the 
New  York  Condensed  Milk  Co.,  N.  Y.  City.—  [Adv.] 


ADVERTISEMENTS. 


ne  £AJ>  Go 


MISSES'  ANCHILDREN'S 

Wash 
Suits 

GREATLY  REDUCED  PRICES, 


? 

NEW    YORK. 


1    in  6l. 


Trilby's  Foot 

was  perfect  (perhaps 
yours  is),  but  even  per- 
fect feet  get  tired,  and 
nothing  takes  out  the 
tired  aches  like  Pond's 
Extract. 

Avoid  substitutes;  accept  genuine  only, 
with  bull  wrapper  and  yellow  label. 

POND'S    EXTRACT    CO.,  76  Filth  Ave.,  New  York. 

Jlostnge  dtnmps,  &c. 

fififw^S  100  all  dif.  Venezuela,  Costa  Hicn,  etc.,  only 

FSf  1 1  ra  inc. ;  200  all  dif.  Hayti,  Hawaii, etc.  ,only  BOc. 

VJIMl'jIJjJ  Api'tswautedatSOperctcom.   ListPREE! 

MJUUBfl  C.A.Stegm«nn,2722BadsAv.,St.Loai8,Mo. 

t  f\f\  all  different,  China,  etc.,  lOc.;  5  Saxony,  lOc.: 

I  40  Spain,  40c.;  6  Tunis,  Uc.;   10  TJ.  8.  Rev- 

I  WU  ennes,  We.  Agts.  vvtd.,  60*  com.;  '95  list  free. 

CRITTENOEN  &  BORG  MAN  CO.,  Detroit,  Mich. 


the  best  things  in  Prose  and  Poetry,  always  includ- 
ing good  Songs  and  Hymns.  It  is  surprising  how 
little  good  work  of  this  kind  seems  to  be  done  in 
the  Schools,  if  one  must  judge  from  the  small  num- 
ber of  people  who  can  repeat,  without  mistake  or 
omission,  as  many  as  Three  good  songs  or  hymns- 


and  accurate  Memory  work  is  a  most  excellent 
thing,  whether  in  School  or  out  of  it.  among  all  ages 
and  all  classes.  But  let  that  which  is  so  learned  be 
worth  learning  and  worth  retaining.  The  Franklin 
Square  Song  Collection  presents  a  large  number  of 


and  Hymns,  in  great  variety  and  very  carefully 
selected,  comprising  Sixteen  Hundred  in  the  Eight 
Numbers  thus  far  issued,  together  with  much 
choice  aud  profitable  Reading  Matter  relating  to 
Music  and  Musicians.  In  the  complete  and  varied 


which  is  sent  free  on  application  to  the  Publishers, 
there  are  found  dozens  of  the  best  things  in  the 
World,  which  are  well  worth  committing  to  mem- 
ory; and  they  who  know  most  of  such  good  things, 
and  appreciate  and  enjov  them  most,  are  really 
among  the  best  educated  people  in  any  country. 
They  have  the  best  result  of  Education.  "For  above 
Contents,  with  sample  pages  of  Music,  address 

Harper  &  Brothers,  New  York. 


709 


PRIZE  =  STORY     COMPETITION. 


SECOND=PRIZE     STORY. 

An    Exciting    Game.     By  Nancy    Howe    Wood. 


IT  was  wlien  I  was  a  struggling  young  physician  iu  ;t 
small  country  town  that  I  passed  through  au  adventure 
which   I   would  not  care  to   repeat,  although   now   I   can 
plainly  see  its  humorous  aspect. 

I  hail  but  shortly  before  graduated  from  a  medical  col- 
lege, and  was  trying  hard  to  get  my  living  in  a  little  vil- 
lage when-  there  were  two  other  older  and  more  experi- 
enced doctors.  I  was  becoming  greatly  disheartened,  when 
.one  day,  on  my  return  from  a  visit  to  a  poor  woman,  of  the 
village,  I  found  au  official-looking  letter  awaiting  me.  I 
opened  it  with  some  degree  of  excitement,  and  was  aston- 
ished to  find  that  it  was  an  offer  to  me  of  the  position  of 
resilient  physician  in  the  Blaukville  Insane  Asylum,  sit- 
uated about  two  miles  away.  A  salary  was  named  which 
seemed  a  fortune  to  me,  poverty-stricken  as  I  then  was.  (I 
afterwards  learned  that  the  offer  was  made  to  rue  through 
the  ei't'cirts  (if  an  influential  friend.) 

At  first  the  letter  gave  me  unlimited  joy,  and  I  shouted  like 
a  seli'Hil-lmy  :  but  when  I  began  to  think  what  it  would 
actually  mean  my  heart  sank.  All  my  life  I  had  had  a  ner- 
vous horror  of  insane  persons,  and  if  I  should  accept  this 
offer  I  would  he  obliged  to  stay  with  them,  cat  with  them, 
and  live  among  them  almost  as  one  of  themselves.  At  this 
thought  I  fairly  shuddered,  and  was  forced  to  confess  to 
myself  that  I  could  never  endure  such  a  strain  on  my 
nerves,  doctor  though  I  was. 

The  next  morning,  however,  when  I  again  read  the  letter, 
the  offer  seemed  so  tempting  that  I  saiil  tn  ni\  --elf:  "Pshaw! 
I  will  not  be  conquered  by  an  attack  of  nerves.  Come, 
brace  yourself  up,  num.  Why,  a  few  years  at  that  salary 
will  be  enough  to  set  you  up  for  life!"  Nevertheless,  I  de- 
termiued  to  go  up  the  following  day,  and  luol  ortr  the  place 
I ie lure  deciding  on  my  final  answer. 

So  early  the  next  morning  I  presented  myself  at  the  asy- 
lum, all  my  nervousness  gone.  I  was  so  politely  shown 
about,  and  everything  looked  so  orderly  and  well  cared  for, 
and  the  grounds  without  seemed  so  peaceful  and  quiet, 
that  I  was  delighted  with  it  all.  My  misgivings  hail  al- 
most vanished,  and  I  had  so  nearly  made  up  my  mind  to  ac- 
cept the  lucrative  offer,  that  I  said  to  the  smiling  and 
complaisant  guard  who  was  acting  as  my  guide : 

"  Tell  the  superintendent  that  if  he  will  kindly  allow  me 
to  stroll  iu  the  garden  and  think  the  matter  over,  I  will 
give  him  my  final  answer  within  the  hour."  So  saying,  I 
be^an  to  pace  up  and  down  the  flower-bordered  walks. 

I  was  by  this  time  in  such  a  well-satisfied  frame  of  mind 
that  I  promptly  dispelled  the  last  remnants  of  my  former 

ller\  iillstiens. 

I  was  just  on  the  point  of  re-entering  the  asylum  to  say 
to  I  lie  Superintendent  that  I  gratefully  accepted  his  offer 
when  I  was  startled  by  the  si  in  ml  of  crackling  twins  belli  ml 
me.  Turning  quickly.  I  found  myself  face  to  lace  with  a 
man  whom  I  supposed  at  first  to  be  one  of  the  guards.  But 
as  sunn  as  I  moved  away  from  him  to  go  toward  the  house 
lie  sprang  forward  with  baud  outstretched  to  clutch  me, 
uttering  an  idiotic  chuckle.  Cold  shivers  chased  up  ami 
don  n  my  back  as  the  thought  Hashed  upon  me  that  it  was 
au  escaped  patient !  With  a  shriek  I  ran  down  the  path  at 
the  top  of  my  speed,  my  fear  increased  by  the  sound  of  pur- 
suing steps  behind  me. 

I  doubled  and  tinned  on  the  track,  striving  to  distance 
or  elude  m\  dreaded  pursuer,  but  iu  spite  of  my  frantic  ef- 
forts, he  kept  closely  at  my  heels.  Finally  in  one,  of  my 
windings  1  was  confronted  by  the  six-foot  stone  wall  that 
surrounded  the  asylum  on  every  side.  Glanciii",  back- 
ward, I  saw  that  the  maniac — as  I  now  knew  him  to  be — 
was  almost  upon  me,  and,  making  a  desperate  effort,  I  suc- 
ceeded iu  reaching  the  top  of  the  wall.  For  a  moment  I 
fancied  myself  secure ;  but  my  pursuer  darted  behind  the 
shrubbery,  and  pulled  out  a  small  ladder,  evidently  used  by 
the  gardeners.  Seeing  him  thus  prepared  to  follow  me,  I 


hurriedly  dropped  to  the  ground  outside,  and  scrambled  to 
my  feet  just  as  the  lunatic's  head  appeared  above  the  top 
of  the  Avail.  Again  I  had  only  a  short  start  before  he  was 
once  more  on  my  track. 

And  now  began  au  exciting  race  "  over  brush,  brake,  and 
brier";  sometimes  I  stumbled  over  a  protruding  root  and 
fell  headlong,  but  was  up  again  iu  a  twinkling ;  sometimes 
my  pursuer  was  so  close  upon  me  that  I  could  easily  hear 
his  panting  breath.  At  the  eud  of  the  first  mile  and  a 
quarter  I  thought  myself  done  for,  but  my  college  training, 
which,  luckily,  I  had  not  forgotten,  stood  me  iu  good  stead, 
and  I  desperately  ran  on. 

"  Oh,"  thought  I,  wildly,  "  where  are  the  villagers  ?  Isn't 
anybody  near  ?"  But  there  was  no  road  leading  out  of  the 
village  in  that  direction,  and  few  people  passed  that  way. 
At  last,  after  years,  it  seemed  to  me,  we  entered  the  village, 
and  tore  at  full  speed  down  the  main  street.  If  I  had  long- 
ed before  for  some  human  soul  to  help  me,  I  now  as  earnest- 
ly prayed  that  I  might  unobserved  gain  my  own  door,  and 
so  be  safe.  But  no;  some  small  boy, busily  engaged  doing 
nothing,  soon  raised  the  cry, 

"  Say,  here  comes  the  fresh  young  doctor  a-teariug  down 
the  street  like  a  steam-engine!" 

Then,  almost  tired  out,  and  seeing  the<  door  of  a  small 
house  standing  open,  I  dashed  in,  passed  through  the  hall 
and  dining-room,  where  the  astonished  family  were  sitting 
at  dinner,  and  out  into  the  back  yard,  where,  completely 
exhausted,  aud  utterly  unable  to  run  a  step  further,  I 
dropped  behind  a  ban  el. 

My  hope  had  been  that  the  people  of  the  house  would 
have  understood  my  predicament  and  stopped  the  madman, 
but  they  evidently  had  not  taken  in  the  situation,  or  else 
he  had  been  too  quick  for  them,  for  from  behind  the  barrel 
where  I  had  concealed  myself  I  could  hear  him  come  through 
the  open  doorway  aud  search  the  yard  for  me. 

And  now  I  feared  that  my  panting  breath  would  betray 
me — and  it  did,  for  I  heard  his  stealthy  steps  approach  the 
spot  where  I  lay  quaking,  and  his  ugly,  leering  face  peered 
round  at  me,  and  he  sprang  forward  and  touched  me,  call- 
ing out,  as  I  fell  back  almost  fainting  with  terror:  "  Tug! 
Yiiu'rc  it!" 

In  an  instant  the  meaning  of  his  words  flashed  over  me, 
aud  I  cursed  myself  for  my  foolish  nervousness.  The  con- 
founded fool  had  taken  it  for  a  game  of  tag! 

By  this  time  quite  a  little  crowd  of  villagers  had  gather- 
ed around  me,  and  the  escaped  lunatic  was  secured  to  wait 
for  the  arrival  of  his  keeper,  and  I  managed  to  reach  my 
home,  after  being  fortified  by  a  glass  of  wiue. 

It  was  several  days  before  my  nerves  recovered  their 
usual  steadiness,  and  it  is  perhaps  needless  to  add  that  I 
did  not  accept  the  situation. 


"Jibe 


IfoauiX 


The  Lancelot  Chapter,  of  Newtonville,  Mass.,  has  nine  members 
aud  each  earned  twenty-five  cents.  Then  the  Chapter  added  a  little, 
and  the  secretary  funvarded  £3  with  the  best  of  Lancelot  w>he> 
Names  of  the  contributors  are  Ella  A.  Gould,  Marion  Drew  Bassett. 
Adella  J.  Sauuderson,  Ethel  T.  Gammous,  Alice  L.  Harrison,  Esther 
H.  Dyson.  Lulu  I'lmer,  Mabel  Glazier,  aud  Hazel  L.  Bobbins. 

The  Edisou  Chapter,  of  Bangor,  Me.,  send  $2  for  the  Fund.  This 
Fund  is,  you  kuow.  to  help  build  the  Bound  Table  Industrial  School- 
house  at  Good  Will  Farm,  where  poor  boys  are  educated.  The 
Table  is  raising  this  Fund,  and  it  asks  contributions  from  all  who 
want,  first,  to  help  chivalrous  young  persons  who  are  trying  to  help 
others,  aud  second,  to  help  in  the  best  possible  way  boys  who  need 
help. 

Any  sums,  sent  by  anybody,  will  be  thankfully  received  aud  ac- 
knowledged in  the  Table.  Members  of  the  Edison  Chapter,  which 
sent  the  S-  the  other  day.  earned  the  money  folding  aud  carrying 
papers,  getting  out  ashes,  and  washing  dishes  — truly  practical 
methods  of  being  truly  generous. 

Founders  of  the  Order  of  the  Round  Table  want  $1000  to  complete 
this  School  Fund.  Who  will  help  them? 


no 


HAEPEE'S   EOUXD   TABLE 


From  Some  Far-Away  Members. 

The  Table  loves  to  hear  from  far-distaut  places, 
and  to  have  members  tell  us  how  their  country 
looks,  and  what  the  people  do.  Here  is  news  from 
three  friends : 

SPKI.VG  CEKKK,  M*ELBoBOfGB,  XEW  ZEALAND. 

New  Zealand  is  a  far-away  country  to  you,  yet  I 
have  seen  some  letters  from  here.  The  town  I  live 
near  is  not  very  large.  It  is  subject  to  floods,  and 
last  year  the  water  came  thirteen  times  into  some 
of  the  shops.  I  have  not  travelled  about  much,  so 
I  cannot  describe  to  you  my  journeys  as  many 
other  girls  do.  The  North  Island  of  New  Zealand 
is  very  volcanic,  especially  near  the  centre.  There 
are  many  hot  springs  there,  some  just  warm,  and 
others  boiling.  The  Maories,  as  the  natives  are 
called,  boil  their  potatoes  in  them,  by  letting  them 
down  into  the  springs  in  baskets. 

Out  of  one  of  the  volcanic  mountains  the  lava 
that  streamed  down  the  sides  was  a  pale  pink.  It 
was  formed  into  terraces  all  down  the  mountain- 
side. On  another  mountain  it  was  much  the  same, 
only  the  terraces  were  white.  A  few  years  ago  a 
great  eruption  caused  them  to  entirely  disu|.)»-;ir. 
Since  then  some  brown  ones  have  begun  to  form, 
but  they  are  very  inferior  to  the  former  ones. 
\Vheu  the  eruption  took  place  there  were  loud 
noises  heard  almost  all  over  New  Zealand.  Many 
people  who  lived  near  were  welluigh  smothered 
with  mud,  and  for  miles  the  country  was  covered 
with  ashes  and  mud,  in  many  places  several  feet 
thick.  Host  of  the  deposit  was  of  a  steel-gray 
color,  and  just  like  knife -polish  in  texture.  My 
younger  sister  and  I  collect  stamps.  As  yet  we 
have  very  few.  I  have  seen  letters  asking  for 
girls  to  write  and  exchange  stamps.  I  would 
much  like  some  girls  to  write  to  me,  and  send  the 
stamps  of  their  countries.  In  return  I  will  send 
them  New  Zealand  ones.  JEAN  CHATTOB. 

BLENHEIM,  MABLBOBOUGH,  NEW  ZEALAND. 

I  am  collecting  stamps,  and  would  be  glad  if  any 
girls  would  write  to  me  and  send  me  some  stamps 
of  their  country,  and  I  will  send  them  some  of 
mine.  There  is  a  Maori  pah  about  two  miles  from 
here.  Some  time  ago  the  chief  died,  and  they  had 
a  great  tangi,  which  lasted  for  a  fortnight.  In  old 
times  Maoris  used  to  bury  their  dead  head  down 
and  all  their  goods  with  them,  and  then  stick  a 
cauoe  at  the  head  of  the  grave. 

CONSTANCE  CHATTOR. 

BLENHEIM,  MAHLBOROUI;H,  NEW  ZEALAND. 

There  was  a  chrysanthemum  show  here  last 
Thursday,  and  there  were  some  lovely  flowers  at  it. 
I  think  the  chrysanthemums  are  beautiful  ttuwcrs. 
especially  the  Japanese  ones.  We  have  big  floods 
in  Blenheim.  I  think  they  are  great  fun,  but  they 
do  great  damage,  especially  to  the  farms.  Once 
•when  we  had  a  big  flood  my  sister  was  sitting  <m 
the  bed  taking  off  her  boots.  She  forgot  about  the 
water,  and  dropped  her  boots  into  it,  and  they  float- 
ed about  the  house  all  night. 

A  month  ago  Rev.  Mr.  Brittain,  a  Melanesian  mis- 
sionary, and  twenty-two  Melanesia!!  boys  came  to 
Blenheim;  only  a  few  of  the  boys  could  speak 
English.  The  others  speak  Mota.  It  was  interest- 
ing hearing  all  about  the  islands.  At  Norfolk  Isl- 
and there  is  a  large  college.  There  is  also  a  beau- 
tiful church.  All  the  seats  are  inlaid  with  mother- 
of-pearl.  Last  summer  all  our  family  and  several 
others  went  down  to  White's  Bay,  which  is  about 
ten  miles  from  Blenheim,  camping.  We  had  three 
tents.  We  staid  two  weeks,  and  had  a  splendid 
time.  I  collect  stamps,  and  would  be  very  glad  if 
any  of  the  girls  would  write  to  me  and  send  some, 
and  I  in  return  would  send  them  some  New  Zea- 
land ones.  MILLIE  DOBSON. 
*  * 

Chin-Kiang,  China. 

I  wrote  a  long  letter  which  was  accepted  for 
publication  in  the  Table,  and  every  time  I  get  a 
new  number  I  look  for  it,  but  am  always  disap- 
pointed. In  the  last  one  there  was  a  letter  from 
Juliet  Bredon,  with  whom  I  spent  several  weeks 
in  Japan,  which  interested  me  very  much,  and 
made  me  wish  all  the  more  to  see  mine  in  print.  It 
will  be  soon,  won't  it  ?  I  will  write  something  more 
about  Chiu-Kiang  by-and-by  if  it  will  interest  .  >t  lin- 
members  of  the  Table.  MILDRED  C.  JONES. 

Your  letter  shall  appear  in  due  time.  Yes.  tell 
us  more  about  China,  and  the  Chinese.  We  are 
much  interested— all  of  us. 


IVORY  5  GAP 


IT  FLOATS 


When  you  pack  for  the  sea  shore  or  the  mountains,  fill  a  tray  of 
your  trunk  with  Ivory  Soap  and  require  your  laundress  to  use  it. 
Light  summer  garments  should  be  washed  only  with  a  pure  white 
soap. 


THE  PROCTER  &  GAMBLE  Co..  OINTI. 


The  KOAXBI 


GALLONS  FOR  25 ; 

Not  of  the  preparations  of  coloring  = 
matter  and  essential  oils  so  often  3 
si  ild  under  the  name  of  rootbeer,  s 
but  of  the  purest,  most  delicious,  = 
health-giving  beverage  possible  to 
produce.  One  gallon  of  Hires'  is 
worth  ten  of  the  counterfeit  kind. 
Suppose  an  imitation  extract  costs 
five  cents  less  than  the  genuine 
Hires;  the  same  amount  of  sugar 
and  trouble  is  required;  you  save 
one  cent  a  gallon,  and — get  an  un- 
healthful  imitation  in theend.  Ask  i 
:  for  HIKES  and  get  it. 

HIRES 

I  Rootbeer 

THE  i  Hvs.  E.  HIRES  CO.,  Philadelphia. 
aiiilililllllllllllllllliiin 


Carry  in  pocket.  Takes  25  perfect  pictures 
in  one  loading— re-loading  costs  20c.     Ask 
your  dealer  for  it,  or  send  for  free  booklet 
All  About  the  Kombi." 

ALFRED  C.  KEMPER, 
Branches:  London,  Berlin.      132-134  Lake  Street,  Chicago 


YOL  can  m*kfl  money  with  it.  A  font  of 
>rttty  type,  also  Indelible  Ink,  Type  Holder;  Pads 
ind  Tweezers.  Rest  Linen  Marker;  worth  (1  00 
Sample  ranl.d  FKKE  for  lUc.  stamps  for  posUfeon 
outfit  and  large  catalogue  of  1000  Bargains. 
U.ll.  liifiTsullA,  Ilru.  GaCortludt  St.N.Y.  City 


UC»D 
II  CM  lid 


„  than   all   other  ie- 

es  combined.     Whispers   II  CM  lid.     Help  ears  as  classes 
doeyes.  F.  liiecox,  858  B'dway,  N.  Y.  Bookof  proofs  FREE 


Harper's  Catalogue, 

Thoroughly  revised,  classified,  and  in- 
dexed, will  be  sent  by  mail  to  any  ad- 
dress on  receipt  of  ten  cents. 


By  W.  J.  HENDERSON 

Elements  of  Navigation 

With    Diagrams.       i6mo,    Cloth,    $i    oo. 

Afloat  with  the   Flag 

Illustrated.     Post  Svo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $i    25. 

Sea  Yarns  for   Boys 

SPUN  BY  AX  OLD  SALT.     Illustrated.     Post  Svo,  Cloth,  Or- 
namental, $i    25. 

Published    by    HARPER    &    BROTHERS,   New    York 

For  sale   by   all  booksellers,    c-  the  publishers,  post  a 

on  reetif!  of  the  price. 


711 


THE    BABY    ELEPHANT'S    MISADVENTURE,  OR    THE    SATISFACTION    OF    HAVING    AN    EFFICIENT    PARENT. 


A  SAFE  METHOD. 

THE  treasures  of  the  Bank  of  France  are  said  to  be  bet- 
ter guarded  than  those  of  any  other  bank  iu  the  world.  At 
the  close  of  business  hours  every  day,  when  the  money  is 
put  into  the  vaults  in  the  cellar,  masons  at  ouce  wall  up 
the  doors  with  hydraulic  mortar.  Water  is  then  turned  ou 
and  kept  running  until  the  cellar  is  flooded.  A  burglar 
would  have  to  work  in  a  diving  suit  and  break  down  a  cem- 
ent wall  before  he  could  even  start  to  loot  the  vaults. 
When  the  officers  arrive  the  next  morning,  the  water  is 
drawn  off,  the  masonry  is  torn  down,  and  the  vaults  opened. 


AN  INDIAN  TRADITION. 

HERE  is  an  Indian  version  of  the  story  of  the  flood,  as  it 
was  taken  by  a  writer  connected  with  au  Australian  jour- 
nal. Says  he :  "All  of  the  northern  coast  Indians  have  a  tra- 
dition of  a  flood  which  destroyed  all  mankind  except  a  pair 
from  which  the  earth  was  peopled.  Each  tribe  gives  the 
story  a  local  coloring,  but  the  plot  of  the  story  is  much  the 
same.  The  Bella  Coola  tradition  is  as  follows :  The  Cre- 
ator of  the  universe,  Mes-mes-sa-la-nik,  had  great  difficulty 
in  the  arrangement  of  the  laud  and  water.  The  earth  per- 
sisted iu  sinking  out  of  sight.  At  last  he  hit  upon  a  plan 
which  worked  very  well.  Taking  a  long  line  of  twisted 
walrus  hide,  he  tied  it  around  the  dry  laud,  and  fastened 
the  other  end  to  the  corner  of  the  moon.  Everything 
worked  well  for  a  long  time ;  but  at  last  the  Spirit  became 
very  much  offended  at  the  action  of  mankind,  and  in  a  fit 
of  auger  one  day  seized  his  great  stone  knife,  and  with  a 
uiighty  hack  severed  the  rope  of  twisted  skin.  Immediate- 
ly the  land  began  to  sink  into  the  sea.  The  angry  waves 
rushed  in  torrents  up  the  valleys,  and  in  a  short  time  no- 
thing was  visible  except  the  peak  of  a  very  high  mountain. 
All  mankind  perished  in  the  whelming  waters,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  two,  a  man  and  his  wife,  who  were  out  fishing  iu 
a  great  canoe.  These  two  succeeded  in  reaching  the  top 
.of  the  mountain,  and  proceeded  to  make  themselves  at 
home.  Here  they  remained  for  some  time,  until  the  anger 
.of  Mes-mes-sa-la-nik  had  cooled,  which  resulted  in  his  fish- 
ing up  the  severed  thong  and  again  fastening  it  to  the 
moon.  From  this  pair  thus  saved  the  earth  was  again 
populated." 


WHERE   IT   WENT. 

LUNATICS  often  assume  a  superiority  of  intellect  to  others 
which  is  quite  amusing.  A  gentleman  travelling  in  Eng- 
land some  years  ago,  while  walking  along  the  road  not 
far  from  the  side  of  which  there  ran  a  railway,  encountered 
a  number  of  insane  people  out  for  exercise  iu  charge  of  a 
keeper.  With  a  nod  toward  the  railway  tracks,  he  said  to 
one  of  the  lunatics, 

••  Where  does  this  railway  go  to  ?" 

The  lunatic  looked  at  him  scornfully  a  moment,  and  then 
replied: 

"  It  don't  go  anywhere.  We  keep  it  here  to  rim  trains 
on." 


A   HUGE  PIE. 

THE  largest  pie  ever  known  was  that  described  iu  the 
Newcastle  Clironide  for  the  6th  January,  1770.  It  was 
shipped  to  Sir  Henry  Gray,  Baronet,  London,  Mrs.  Dor- 
othy Patterson,  housekeeper  at  Hawic,  being  the  maker. 
Into  the  composition  of  this  great  pie  entered  two  bushels 
of  flour,  twenty  pounds  of  butter,  four  geese,  two  turkeys, 
two  rabbits,  four  wild  ducks,  two  woodcocks,  six  snipe,  four 
partridges,  two  ueats'  tongues,  two  curlews,  seven  black- 
birds, and  six  pigeons.  It  weighed  twelve  stone,  and  was 
nine  feet  in  circumference  at  the  bottom.  It  was  furnished 
with  a  case  on  wheels, for  convenience  in  passing  it  round 
to  the  guests. 

The  receipt  for  this  pie  is  given  here  as  a  hint  to  those 
of  our  readers  who  may  be  thinking  of  getting  up  a  picnic 
within  the  next  two  or  three  weeks.  A  half  dozen  pies  of 
this  size  ought  to  be  enough  for  at  least  one  picnic. 


A   STRANGE   SUIT. 

ACCORDING  to  the  Pittsburg  Journal,  Peter  Gruber,  the 
Rattlesnake  King  of  Veuaugo  County,  has  made  the  most 
unique  costume  any  man  ever  wore.  It  consists  of  coat, 
vest,  trousers,  hat,  shoes,  and  shirt,  and  is  made  entirely  of 
the  skins  of  rattlesnakes.  Seveu  hundred  snakes,all  caught 
and  skinned  by  Gruber  during  the  past  five  years,  pro- 
vided the  material  for  this  novel  costume.  To  preserve  the 
brilliancy  and  the  flexibility  of  the  skins  in  the  greatest 
possible  degree,  the  snakes  were  skinned  alive,  first  being 
made  unconscious  by  chloroform.  They  were  then  tanned 
by  a  method  peculiar  to  Gruber,  and  are  as  soft  and  elastic 
as  woollen  goods.  The  different  articles  for  this  outfit  were 
made  by  Oil  City  tailors,  shoemakers  and  hatters,  and  the 
costume  is  valued  at  §1000. 


A   FEW  NOTES  ABOUT  COINS. 

THE  rei  of  Brazil,  like  the  mill  of  our  own  money  table, 
is  an  imaginary  coin,  no  piece  of  that  denomination  being 
coined.  Ten  thousand  reis  equal  $5  45. 

Vermont  was  the  first  State  to  issue  a  coinage  on  its  own 
authority.  Copper  coins  were  issued  in  1785. 

The  first  woman's  face  represented  on  a  coin  was  that  of 
Pulcheria,  the  Empress  of  the  Eastern  Empire. 

The  Chinese  stamp  bars  or  ingots  of  gold  or  silver  with 
their  weight  and  fineness,  and  pass  them  from  hand  to  hand 
as  coin. 

The  first  Maryland  coins  were  minted  iu  1662,  and  were 
put  iu  circulation  by  act  of  Council  ordering  every  house- 
holder to  bring  in  sixty  pounds  of  tobacco  and  receive  ten 
shillings  of  the  new  money  in  exchange  for  it. 

In  1634  the  Massachusetts  General  Assembly  made  bul- 
Lets  a  legal  tender  by  the  following  enactment:  "It  is  like- 
wise ordered  that  muskett  bulletts  of  a  full  boare  shall 
pass  currently  for  a  farthing  apiece.  Provided  that  uoe 
man  be  compelled  to  take  above  Xlld  att  a  tyme  in  them." 


712 


.     .    ZaE^A  -  rCJ  ~-       -" 

ROUND  TABLE 


Copyright,  1895,  bv  HA 


All  Rizhts  Reserve.!. 


PUBLISHED     WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI. — NO.  820. 


NEW  YORK.  TUESDAY,  JULY  16.  1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY 
TWO    DOLLARS    A    TEtAH. 


HOW    JACK     LOCKETT    WON     HIS     SPURS. 

BY  G.  T.  FERRIS. 
A   STORY  OF  THE  REVOLUTIONARY   WAR   FOUNDED  ON    FACT. 


THE  chips  flew  merrily  under  Jack  Locke tt's  axe  to  tlie 
tune  of  his  whistling,  for  he  was  chopping  the  night's 
supply  of  firewood,  and  the  dark  was  shutting  down  apace 
on  the  cold  January  day.  He  had  already  made  the  horse 
and  the  cows  snug  in  the  barn,  and  his  young  appetite  was 
sharp  sot  for  the  supper  which  would  be  ready  with  the 
finish  of  his  chores.  He  looked  out  on  the  dreary  waters 
of  the  bay  with  the  gleam  of  a  dull  twilight  on  them,  and 
saw  shining  through  the  dusk  a  white  sail  skimming  shore- 
ward. "  Some  belated  fisherman.  Br-r-r,  how  cold  it  must 
be  out  there  !"  Jack  said  to  himself,  as  he  breathed  on  his 
frosted  fingers  and  smote  the  wood  with  still  harder  strokes. 
This  stalwart  lad  of  fourteen,  with  his  fearless  blue  eyes 
and  tanned  face,  looked  more  than  his  years,  for  he  lived  in 


parlous  times,  which  ripened  men  early.  His  father,  Col- 
onel Lockett,  of  the  Connecticut  line,  was  away  with  the 
army  in  winter-quarters  at  Valley  Forge,  and  his  young  sun 
had  to  shoulder  a  heavy  burden.  He  could  not  yet  carry  a 
firelock  in  battle,  perhaps,  but  he  could  toil  patiently  for 
his  mother  aud  sisters,  with  many  a  sigh  that  there  was  no 
beard  to  his  chin,  while  his  brave  father  faced  cold  and 
hunger  in  camp  or  the  lead  and  steel  of  the  redcoats  in  the 
field.  When  he  had  lugged  in  the  last  armful  of  t':r-"'-- 
and  sat  down  at  the  smoking  supper  table,  the  common 
thought  found  vent  on  his  lips. 

"  I  feel  as  if  I  couldn't  eat  a  thing,  hungry  as  I  am,  mo-, 
ther,  when  I  remember  dear  old  daddy  at  Valley  Forge. 
They  say  that  General  Washington  himself  has  scant  ra- 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


tiniis.  ami  ini'ii  die  every  day  from  Ininger.    What '11  be  the 
<-nd  of  \t  all?" 

"  IVrhaps  tin1  stories  belie  the  truth"  (there  hadn't  been 
:i  \viinl  from  the  absent  soldier  for  mouths),  said  the  mo- 
ther, trying  to  keep  Ijaek  the  tears.  "But  look — look, 
Jark.al  the  window!"  with  almost  a  shriek.  "That  face! 
Whin,  is  it?" 

The  cold  had  begun  to  coat  the  glass  with  a  crystal  veil. 
Somebody  stood  out  there,  and  by  melting  the  frost  with 
the  breath,  now  looked  in  on  them  with  shadowy  features 
and  gleaming  eyes.  Jack  staved  with  open  mouth  at  the 
apparition.  Then,  with  a  wild  whoop,  and  a  spring  which 
almost  upset  the  table, lie  yelled,"  Why,  don't,  you  see  it's 
daddy  come  home  ?"  and  executed  a  "war-dance  of  joy  to  the 
door. 

Colonel  Lockett  was  almost  eaten  up  by  his  wife  and 
children  before  be  was  permitted  to  retaliate  on  the  savory 
dishes  of  the  supper  table.  He  had  been  all  day  in  an  open 
boat  on  the  water  (the  unsuspecting  Jack  had  had  a 
glimpse  of  him),  and  without  food  since  daybreak. 

'"Twas  unsafe  to  cross  the  enemy's  lines  by  land,"  he 
said,  with  a  sigh  of  delicious  contentment,  sitting  before  the 
great  blazing  crackling  hearth  ami  looking  into  the  loving 
tares  of  his  young  people  aud  their  mother.  "To  get 
through  even  as  far  as  Sandy  Hook  was  a  narrow  shave  of 
capture.  So,  then,  'twas  off  uniform  and  on  fisherman's 
suit,  lent  me  by  a  kind  heart,  who  also  gave  me  a  cast  in 
his  dory  to  the  Great  South  Bay.  Thence  across  Long  Isl- 
and to  Glen  Cove,  aud  'twas  easy  there  to  find  a  sail-boat  to 
fetch  me  home  over  the  Sound." 

"And  you  didn't  know  of  the  British  ship  Tartar  lying 
off  the  place,  here  ?"  said  Jack,  with  wonder  and  alarm. 

"Not  till  too  late.  And  having  thus  ventured,  'twould 
have  been  a  coward's  job  to  have  gone  back,"  answered 
the  father,  with  a  smile. 

"But,"  said  Mrs.  Lockett,  with  a  face  as  white  as  the 
suow  without,  "you're  not  in  uniform.  Should  you  bo 
taken?"  Even  the  youngest  of  the  children  knew  what 
that  meant,  and  they  shuddered  with  the  vision  of  him  they 
loved  standing  with  the  fatal  noose  about  his  neck  amidst 
the  jeers'of  a  brutal  soldiery. 

"Tut,  tut,  good  wife,"  quoth  the  Colonel,  gayly.  "These 
be  but  soldiers'  risks,  aud,  trust  me,  the  hemp  you  fear  is 
not  yet  spun.  And  now  away  with  grewsome  thoughts. 
Tell  me  how  you  make  matters  here,  for  I've  long  been 
•without  news." 

"  Lackaday,"  said  the  wife,  "'tis  hut  a  dull  story.  All 
the  good-men  away,  and  none  but  lads  and  grandfathers  to 
till  the  fields  and  care  for  the  women.  The  Cowboys  and 
the  Skinners*  scour  the  country  like  wolves.  What  the 
one  leaves  the  other  takes.  We've  suffered  with  our  neigh- 
bors, but  bear  it  lightly,  dear  heart,  for  thought  of  you  all 
in  the  thick  of  the  trouble." 

"No  tongue  can  speak  what  the  poor  fellows  endure," 
said  the  soldier.  "  Uniforms  in  rags,  without  blankets  to 
keep  'em  warm  at  night,  scarcely  one  good  meal  a  day, 
shoeless  feet  that  drip  blood  a-walking  post  in  the  snow. 
His  Excellency  had  me  to  dinner  the  night  before  I  left 
camp.  One  tough  smoked  goose  for  eight,  but  'twas  wash- 
ed down  with  the  General's  choice  Madeira.  Tears  came 
to  his  brave  patient  eyes  as  he  talked.  'Oh,  for  some 
brave  heroic  deed,'  he.  said, 'some  dashing  stroke,  some- 
thing to  shoot  a  thrill  of  cheer  through  these  downcast 
spirits !  'Twonld  be  better,  methiuks,  than  the  coming  of  a 
great  supply  traiu.'  Even  Ins  irou  soul  sometimes  falters. 
And  now,  .lack,  about  the  Tartar.  Docs  she  trouble  the 
country  overmuch  ?  I  made  a  long  beat  to  'scape  the  look- 
out." 

The  boy  clinched  his  teeth.  "'Tis  a  brazen  jackanapes, 
that  Captain  Askew.  His  boat  parties  do  as  much  mis- 
chief as  the  Cowboys.  There's  scarcely  a  ham  left  in  tin- 
place  from  the  Christmas  killing.  Only  two  days  since  I 


"  Durintr  the  Revolution  I  here  were  gangs  of  ruffian?,  little  less  than 
bandits,  who  spr.-ml  terror  iluoiiL'ti  the  region  adjupent  t lie  field  occn- 
I'ied  liv  tin1  tinnles.  Within  ;i  radius  ot  twenty  miles  troni  New  York 
ihen  in  possession  of  the  I'.iitish,  these  bands  were dllbhed  Cowboys  and 
Skinners,  the  first  nommiilly  Tories,  the  olhcrs  Patriots,  both  outcasts 
whose  only  thought  was  plunder. 


impress  me  on  the  Tcirttn-  for  a  powder-monkey.  There 
was  a  scowl  on  his  red  face.  '  Look*  ye,  yon  rebel  spawn, 
they  say  your  father  calls  himself  a  Colonel  under  Mr. 
Washington.  Some  day  I  shall  come  and  take  ye  aboard 
to  serve  his  Majesty,  and  introduce  ye  to  his  Majesty's 
faithful  servant,  the  cat.'"  The  boy  stoppc-d.  and  then 
started  as  if  sunn-thing  burned  him.  "  Oh.  daddy,  think  of 
what  General  Washington  said  !  If  we  could  only — " 

The  same  thought  leaped  like  an  electric  spark  between 
t'.tem — brave  father  and  gallant  boy.  No  need  of  words. 
Eye  flashed  it  to  eye.  To  capture  and  destroy  the  Tartar 
— a  small  matter  indeed  in  the  sum  of  the  struggle,  but 
might  it  not  be  like  a  spark  of  flame  in  dead  dry  wood  to 
kindle  fire  and  hope? 

Colonel  Lockett  lay  quietly  at  home  during  a  -whole 
week.  Scarcely  a  soul  seemed  to  know  of  his  coming.  Bnt 
Jack  took  long  rides,  to  his  mother's  wonderment,  by  night 
and  by  day  through  the  country.  The  secret  talks  be- 
tween Jack  and  his  father,  the  look  of  excitement  that 
kept  his  face  aglow — some  mystery  alarmed  her.  At  last 
she  learned  with  terror  of  the  enterprise  afloat  to  cut  out 
the  British  ship,  and  she  made  the  boy's  father  promise  that 
Jack  should  not  go  with  the  boats. 

"No!  no!"  he  said  to  the  agonized  lad.  "You  are  my 
faithful  Lieutenant  ashore,  but  must  stay  behind  from  the 
attack.  Should  aught  happen  to  yon,  what  will  come  to 
your  mother  and  sisters  when  I  am  gone  1"  Poor  Jack  bit 
bis  lip  in  silence.  'Twas  a  hard  strain  on  filial  obedience, 
for  his  hot  young  blood  had  tingled  with  the  thought  of 
what  was  to  come. 

A  large  barn  stood  in  a  lonely  place  about  three  miles 
from  the  Lockett  house.  One  night  a  passer-by  would 
have  fancied  something  strange  going  on  there.  Many  a 
horse  was  hitched  to  the  trees  of  the  adjacent  wood,  lan- 
tern-lights twinkled  through  the  crevices,  and  every  few 
minutes  little  groups  came  up  and  slipped  through  the 
barn-door.  When  all  had  gathered,  the  tall  form  of  Colonel 
Lockett  arose  in  their  midst,  and  the  roll  was  called  to  see 
that  none  tvas  there  except  those  apprised. 

"You  know  what  you've  come  for,  friends  and  neigh- 
bors," said  he.  "  We  are  about  to  strike  a  gallant  blow  for 
the  good  cause.  It's  not  too  late  for  those  to  withdraw' 
who  fancy  the  hazard  overbold.  For  half-armed  country- 
men to  storm  a  royal  ship  seems  heavy  odds  of  failure.  But 
courage  ou  one  side  aud  panic  on  the  other  will  right  the 
scales.  And  there  are  no  better  weapons  than  yours  for  a 
hand-to-hand  fight.  A  pitchfork  with  a  short  handle,  a 
scythe  set  in  a  stick,  make  the  best  of  boarding-pikes.  We 
need  no  firelocks.  The  ship  must  be  taken  by  surprise, 
and  carried  with  a  rush.  The  decks  once  swept  aud  the 
hatches  battened  down,  and  she  is  ours.  There  is  no  moon, 
and  the  air  and  sky  betoken  a  great  snow-storm  brewing. 
When  that  comes,  whether  to-morrow  night  or  later,  we  at- 
tack." And  so  he  gave  them  stirring  words,  saying  that 
this  feat  would  ring  like  the  peal  of  a  trumpet. 

He  proceeded  to  tell  off  the  boat-crews,  appoint  the  offi- 
cer of  each  division,  and  give  careful  instructions. 

"Aud  now,  old  men  and  beardless  boys,  it  rests  with  you 
to  do  what  will  set  men's  hearts  thmnping  when  'tis 
known,"  was  his  parting,  as  each  went  his  way  fired  with 
the  thought  of  a  gallant  deed  to  be  done. 

The  next  night  proved  propitious.  It  was  a  thick,  wind- 
less snow-storm,  and  the  white  smudge  of  flakes  blinded 
eyesight  better  than  the  blackest  black.  An  hour  after 
midnight  the  tour  whale-boats  which  floated  the  expedi- 
tion pushed  off  from  the  little  cove.  Jack  had  gone  to  the 
landing  to  say  "  good-by  "  to  his  father,  his  head  buzzing 
with  things  that  didn't  get  to  his  tongue,  and,  curiously 
enough,  he  had  slipped  a  heavy  hatchet  under  his  coat. 

"  It's  for  you  to  be  hero  at  home  just  now,"  was  the  Col- 
onel's last  word.  -'Two  years  hence,  if  the  struggle  still 
goes  on,  my  brave  lad  shall  have  a  chance  to  strike  a  blow." 
Jack,  whose  coiiM-ience  smote  him  sorely,  mumbled  some- 
thing as  his  lather's  boat  moved  out  into  the  storm  with 
muffled  oars.  But  as  the  last  boat  slid  iuto  deep  water  the 
boy  gave  a  spring  and  landed  in  the  stern,  light  as  a  fea- 
ther. '"Sh  !  Not  a  word,"  said  he,  in  a  low  voice.  "I'm 
going  if  I  have  to  swim." 


ru 


HARPER'S   EOUND   TABLE 


The  officer  of  tlie  boat,  an  old  farmer,  who  had  seen  ser- 
vice in  the  French  and  Indian  wars,  scratched  his  gray  poll 
ill  grave  doubt.  ''Waal,  I  like  yer  grit  fust  rate,  and  ye 
come  by  it  naturally.  I  guess  I'll  liev  to  see  ye  through,  ef 
it  is  agin  the  Kuruel's  orders.  But  ye  ha'nt  no  we'p'n?" 
Jack  pulled  out  his  hatchet,  and  the  old  chap  laughed  again 
to  himself.  '•  Blessed  ef  breed  don't  tell  ary  time,  when 
it's  a  bull-pup.'' 

The  Tartar  lay  at  anchor  two  miles  off  the  point,  and  ou 
such  a  blind  night,  with  its  smother  of  snow,  it  was  easy  to 
miss  the  goal.  Orders  had  been  strict  that  the  boats 
should  keep  bunched  together  almost  within  oar's-leugth. 
True,  the  men  of  the  crews  knew  their  waters  so  well  that 
they  might  have  bragged  they  could  smell  their  way  to  the 
frigate  over  that  smooth  black  pitch  like  hounds  on  the 
scent.  But  cockstireness  was  tricky  ou  such  a  night.  They 
pulled  with  slow  strokes,  straining  to  catch  a  sound  or  :i 
glimpse.  It  had  begun  to  get  intensely  cold,  and  the  spit 
of  the  snow  stung  their  faces  and  stiffened  their  fingers. 
Jack's  young  blood  was  proof  against  rigor  of  frost,  for  his 
ears  sang  with  a  roaring  music,  as  if  a  pair  of  sea-shells  had 
been  clapped  against  the  sides  of  his  skull.  His  veins  beat 
like  hammer-strokes.  He  thought  he  felt  a  new  sensation. 
"Can  it  be  I'm  afraid  ?"  he  repeated  to  himself. 

No,  Jack,  fear  never  conies  that  way.  Fear  strikes  the 
coward  to  a  lump  of  jelly.  What  you  feel  now  quivering 
to  your  finger-tips  is  the  thing  which  gives  fire  and  mettle 
to  every  gallant  heart,  and  nerves  the  muscles  to  greater 
strength.  No  tighter  worth  his  salt  ever  failed  of  this  gal- 
loping music  in  his  veins  on  the  eve  of  action.  Whisper  to 
that  gray  beard  by  your  side  whether  he  doesn't  feel  the 
same  leap  of  pulse,  though  his  sinews  have  got  stiff  at  the 
plough-tail,  and  his  blood  sluggish  with  years  since  he  smelt 
powder.  And  don't  you  remember,  too,  Jack,  that  you  felt 
a  little  of  the  same  sort  of  thing  that  time  you  "pitched 
in  "  and  "  licked  "  the  hulking  bully  nearly  twice  your  size, 
for  insulting  the  "school-marm,"  till  he  bellowed  like  a 
calf? 

It  seemed  that  more  than  an  hour  must  have  passed. 
Could  they  have  missed  the  ship,  was  the  thought  of  all. 
This  meant  failure.  There  was  not  the  faintest  ripple  in 
the  dead  silence.  But  hark  !  there  suddenly  boomed  on  the 
night  the  sweet  muffled  notes  of  a  ship's  bell,  and  with  it 
there  was  a  dim  flicker  to  starboard,  as  of  a  light  shining 
tine. ugh  a  port-hole.  Luck  was  with  them,  after  all, and 
now  the  time  was  close  at  hand.  A  denser  black  loomed 
against  the  darkness,  vaguely  outlining  the  ship's  hull,  and 
the  head-boat  grated  on  the  long  hawser  holding  the  after 
anchor,  thrown  out  to  take  lip  the  swing  of  the  ebb-tide. 
And  hark  again!  Through  the  cabin  windows,  suddenly 
thrown  open  as  if  for  a  breath  of  fresh  air,  floated  the 
sounds  of  laughter  and  singing,  the  chorus  of  a  Baccha- 
nalian catch.  Captain  Askew  and  his  subs,  late  as  it  was, 
were  still  making  merry  with  song. 

"Gad!  'tis  dark  as  Erebus, "said  one  of  the  voices  at  the 
grating.  "  What  a  night  for  a  cutting-out  party !" 

A  dozen  strokes  parted  the  boats  to  port  and  starboard, 
and  they  dashed  for  the  ship's  sides.  Up  they  swarmed 
into  the* chains  and  clambered  aboard,  though  not  with  the 
sailor's  light  foot.  The  watch  on  deck  were  asleep  or  dcz- 
ing  in  sheltered  nooks.  They  sprang  to  arms  with  a  shout, 
but  were  speedily  killed  or  disabled.  A  dozen  lanterns 
flashed  over  the  decks  as  the  crew  tumbled  up  out  of  the 
fo'c's'le  hatch,  for  all  others  had  been  spiked  down.  Half 
naked,  and  scarcely  awake,  they  yet  fought  doggedly.  The 
Captain  and  his  officers  trooped  out  of  the  cabin,  flustered 
with  wine,  but  loaded  to  the  muzzle  with  pluck,  and  fell  to 
with  sword  and  pistol.  Colonel  Loekett  had  detailed  a 
dozen  picked  men  with  bags  of  slugs  and  powder-canisters 
to  make  ready  and  wheel  around  fore  and  aft  a  couple  of 
the  deck-carrouades.  The  assailants  were  in  the  waist  of 
the  ship,  and  the  fury  of  the  assault  had  begun  to  drive  men- 
o'-war's  men  under  hatch,  for  the  ship  was  undermanned, 
and  the  crew  somewhat  outnumbered.  Scythe  and  pitch- 
fork did  their  work  well.  It  was  at  this  moment  that  one 
of  the  carronades  sent  its  rain  of  buckshot  into  the  thick 
of  the  British  sailors  and  completed  the  rout. 

Instantly  they  had  boarded,  Jack,  swinging  his  hatchet, 


looked  about  for  his  father,  and  pressed  forward  to  his  side, 
though  the  Colonel  did  not  see  him,  thinking  him  at  home 
watching  with  his  mother.  When  Captain  Askew  made 
the  dash  from  the  cabiu  the  two  leaders  instinctively  knew 
farh  other  and  crossed  blades,  for  Colonel  Loekett  had 
snatched  a  cutlass  from  a  fallen  sailor.  They  cut  and  par- 
ried fiercely  on  the  half-lit  deck  for  a  few  moments,  when 
the  Colonel's  foot  slipped  on  the  wet  wood.  That  second 
would  have  been  his  last, but  Jack's  uplifted  hatchet  fell 
like  lightning  ou  Captain  Askew's  shoulder,  and  smote  him 
flat  to  the  deck.  With  this  the  battle  was  ended. 

Colonel  Loekett  looked  on  the  lad's  panting  flushed  face 
with  amazement.  "  Why,  Jack,  I  ordered  you  not  to  come. 
What  does  this  mean  ?  You  deserve  a  good  horsewhip — 
Why,  Jack,  Jack, you  disobedient  young  villain, you've  saved 
your  father's  life!"  and  with  tears  rolling  down  his  face  he 
clasped  the  brave  lad  in  his  arms.  The  Tartar  was  taken 
up  to  New  Haven,  and  the  Captain,  who  was  only  severely 
wounded,  with  the  other  prisoners,  delivered  over  to  the 
Continental  officer  in  charge  of  the  post. 

When  Colonel  Loekett  returned  to  Valley  Forge,  which 
he  did  without  delay,  Washington  thanked  him  in  general 
orders  for  his  brave  feat.  Jack  got  his  heart's  wish,  and 
the  last  year  of  the  war  actually  served  ou  the  staff  of  the 
Commauder-iii-Chief,  yiiung  as  he  was. 


QUILL-PEN,  ESQUIRE,  ARTIST. 

BY  JOHN  KEliDKICK  BANGS. 

JIMMIEBOY  had  been  looking  at  the  picture-books 
iu  his  papa's  library  nearly  all  the  afternoon,  aud  as 
night  came  on  he  fell  to  wondering  why  he  couldn't  draw 
pictures  himself.  It  certainly  seemed  easy  enough,  to  look 
at  the  pictures.  Most  of  them  were  made  with  the  fewest 
possible  lines,  and  every  line  was  as  simple  as  could  be; 
the  only  thing  seemed  to  be  to  put  them  down,  and  iu  the 
right  place. 

"  Why  don't  you  try  ?"  said  somebody. 

"Eh?"  asked  Jimmieboy,  with  a  sudden  start,  for  he  had 
supposed  he  was  alone. 

"I  say  why  don't  you  try?"  replied  the  strange  some- 
body. 

"Try  what?"  queried  Jimmieboy,  who,  not  having  spoken 
a  word  ou  the  subject  of  drawing  pictures,  was  quite  sure 
that  the  question  did  not  apply  to  that  matter — iu  which 
certainly  he  was  very  much  mistaken,  as  the  strange  some- 
body's nest  remark  plainly  showed. 

"Try  drawing  pictures  yourself?"  said  the  voice. 

"I  can't  draw,"  said  Jimmieboy,  peering  over  into  the 
corner  whence  the  voice  came,  to  see  who  it  was  that  had 
spoken. 

"You  cau't  tell  unless  you  try,"  said  the  voice. 

"A  man  might  do  a  million  things 

If  he  would  be  less  i^liy, 
That  all  his  life  he  never  does, 
Because  he  will  not  try. 

Why  don't  you  try  ?'•' 

"Who  are  you,  anyhow  ?"  asked  Jimmieboy.  "Tell  me 
that,  and  maybe  I  will  try." 

"  Why,  you  know  me,"  said  the  voice.  "  I  am  the  Quill- 
peu  over  here  on  your  mamma's  table.  Don't  you  remem- 
ber how  you  nearly  drowned  me  in  the  ink  yesterday?" 

"I  didn't  want  to  drown  you,'' said  Jimmieboy,  apolo- 
getically. "I  wanted  you  to  write  a  letter  for  me  to  my 
Uncle  Periwinkle,  askiug  him  to  send  me  everything' he 
thought  I'd  like  as  soon  as  he  could." 

The  Pen  laughed.  "I'll  do  it  some  time — along  about 
Christmas,  perhaps,"  he  said.  "  But  about  this  picture 
business.  I  think  you  could  make  pictures." 

"Can  you  make  'em?"  queried  Jimmieboy. 

"I  never  tried,  so  I  don't  know,"  answered  the  Pen. 

"Then  you  try,  and  let's  see  how  trying  works,"  sug- 
gested Jimmieboy.  "I'll  get  a  piece  of  paper  for  you." 

"I'm  afraid  we  can't. "said  the  Pen.  "I'm  very  dry, 
and  don't  think  I  could  make  a  mark,  unless  you  get  me  a 
glass  of  ink. 


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r 


.L 


•NOW,"  SAID    THE    PEN,  "LET    US    BEGIN." 


"  For  just  as  skates  are  not  much  use 

Without  a  skating  rink, 
So  pens — of  steel  or  qnills  of  goose — 
Are  worthless  without  ink." 

"Oh,  I'll  get  plenty  of  ink,"  returned  Jimmieboy,  "though 
I  think  water  would  be  saferer.  Water  would  look  plea- 
santer  ou  the  carpet  if  \ve  upset  it." 

"  I  can't  make  a  mark  with  water,"  laughed  the  Peu. 

"How  do  you  kuow?"  asked  Jimmieboy.  "Did  you  ever 
try  ?" 

"No,  I  never  tried.  Because  why  ?  What's  the  use?" 
replied  the  Pen. 

"  I  do  not  try  to  touch  the  sky 

Or  jump  upon  the  star.-; 
I  do  not  try  to  make  a  pie 

Of  rusty  iron  bars  ; 
I  do  not  try  to  change  into 

A  baby  elephant, 
Because  I  know — and  always  knew — 

"Tis  useless,  for  I  can't." 

,  "That's  all  very  good,"  retorted  Jimmieboy  ;  "  but  a  min- 
ute ago  you  were  saying  that 

"'A  man  might  do  a  million  things, 

If  he   would  be  less  shy, 
That  all  his  life  he  never  does, 
Because  he  will  not  try.'  " 

"You've  got  me  there,"  said  the  Pen,  with  a  smile. 
"Perhaps  we  had  better  use  water.  Now  that  I  think  of  it, 
I  have  enough  dried  ink  011  me  to  make  a  mark  if  I  am 
moistened  up  a  bit  with  water.  You  get  the  water  and 
the  paper,  and  I'll  see  what  I  cau  do." 

Jimmieboy  ran  into  the  dining-room  and  brought  a  glass 
brimming  over  with  water  to  the  Pen,  and  in  another  min- 
ute he  had  a  large  pad  of  paper  ready. 

"  Now,"  said  the  Pen,  "  let  us  begin.  What  shall  I  draw 
first  .'" 

"I  don't  know,"  Jimmieboy  replied.  "Why  not  make 
a — er — a  zebra  f  " 

''What's  a  zebra?"  asked  tlie  Pen,  who  had  never  been 
to  the  circus,  as  Jimmieboy  had,  and  who  was  therefore,  of 
course,  ignorant  about  some  things  of  very  great  impor- 
tance. "  Is  it  a  piece  of  furniture  ?" 

"The  idea!"  laughed  Jimmieboy.  "  Of  course  not.  It's 
a  sort  of  a  small  animal  like  a  horse,  and  ha: " 


"  Oh,  I  know,"  interrupted  the  Pen.  "Here's  one."  Then 
he  dipped  his  head  lightly  into  the  water,  and  wiggled 
himself  about  on  the  pad  for  a  minute.  -'There,"  he  said, 
"How's  that  for  a  zebra?" 

Jinmiieboy  laughed  long  and  loud. 
'•What  (in  earth  are  those  wiggle- 
waggles  all  over  him  ?"  he  asked. 

••Those  are  the  Zees,"  explained  the 
Quill.  "Isn't  that  right?" 

"No!"  roared  Jimmieboy.  "He 
hasn't  a  Z  to  his  name." 

"Oh  yes, he  has," replied  the  Quill. 
"I know  that,  much,  anyhow.  I  have 
written  many  a  zebra,  though  I  never 

drew- one  before.     They  always  begin  with  a  Z,  ami  end 
with  a  bray —like  a  donkey." 

"I  don't  mean  it  that  way.  I  mean  he  hasn't  any  Zees 
printed  on  him,"  explained  Jimmieboy.  "  He's  striped  like 
the  American  flag." 

"Why  didn't  you  say  so  in  the  beginning  ?"  said  the 
Quill. 

"I  was  going  to,  but  you  interrupted  me,  and  said  yon 
knew  all  about  it,  and  I  supposed  you  did,"  said  the 
boy. 

"Well,  let's  try  it  again.  He's  a  horse  that  looks  like 
the  American  flag,  you  say  ?" 

••  Yes,"  said  Jimmieboy — a  little  dubiously, however.  He 
thought  perhaps  the  zebra  more  closely  resembled  a  piece 
of  toast,  but  as  be  had  mentioned  the  flag,  he  thought  it 
would  be  better  to  stick  to  it. 

"How  is  this!"  asked  the  Quill,  presenting  the  following 
picture  to  Jimmieboy.  "  Is  that  any  more  like  a  zebra  ?" 

"  It's  the  most  ridiculous  thing  I 
ever  saw,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "  I 
didn't  say  he  had  stars  on  him." 

"I  know  you  didn't,"  retorted  the 
Pen.  "But  that  square  might  pass 
for  a  chest-protector,  i  f  any  body  ever 
criticised  it." 

"Well,  it   isn't    anything    like    a 
Zebra,"    said      Jimmieboy,     firmly. 
"You'd  better  try   making  an    ele- 
ZEBRA.  pbant." 

"That's  easy  /'returned  the  Quill. 

"I  never  saw  an  elephant,  but  I've  heard  what  they  look 
like.  Sort  of  like  pigs,  with  two  tails,  big  flop  ears,  and 
paper-cutters  for  teeth,  and  great,  big  huge  large  legs  that 
look  like  bolsters.  Oh,  I  can  draw  an  elephant  with  my 
eyes  shut." 

This  the  Pen  proceeded  to  do  at  once,  and  here  is  bis 
idea  of  the  L-ephant. 

"That's  more  like  an  elephant 
than  either  of  the  two  zebras  was 
like  a  zebra, "said  Jimmieboy,  with 
a  grin. 

"Thank  you, "said  the  Pen,  sim- 
ply. "Which  part  have  I  done 
best,  the  L  or  the  'ephant  ?" 

"Well,  it's  hard  to  say,"  smiled 
Jimmieboy.  "I  think  the  hair  ou 
his  forehead  is  very  much  like  that 

of  the  elephants  I  have  seen,  and  then  you've  got  his  eye 
'  just   right.     I've   seen    elephants   look   exactly   like    that 
when  they  have  caught  sight  of  a  peanut." 

"How  is  this  for  a  swarm  of  bees?"  asked  the  Quill, 
gratified  at  his  success,  and  dashing  off  this  little  artistic 
gem  in  an  instant. 

"Ho!"  ejaculated  Jimmieboy.  "What 
kind  of  bees  are  those?  They  aren't  the 
honey  kind  that  sting." 

"  No.  they  are  bees  you  can  spoil  with, 
and  dou't  sting,"  returned  the  Pen.  "  I 
like  'em  better  than  the  other  kind." 

"Can  you  draw  ostriches?"  asked  Jim- 
mieboy. 

"I  can  try  one,"  said   the   Pen.      "How 
THK  SWARM  OF   will  this  do  ?"  he  added,  producing  the  fol- 
BEES.  lowing.  "  The  horse  part  is  all  right, but  I'm 


I.-EPHAXT. 


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HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


THE    OSTRICH. 


afraid  the  strich  isn't  so  good,"  said  the 
artist,  as  Jimmieboy  threw  himself  on  the 
floor  in  a  paroxysm  of  laughter.  "I  never 
saw  a  strieh,so  why  should  I  make  a  good 
one  ?  I  think  it's  real  mean  of  yon  to  laugh." 
"Well,  really,  Penny,"  said  Jimmieboy, 
"  I  don't  want  to  hurt  your  feelings,  but 
that's  the  worst-looking  animal  I  ever  saw. 
But  never  mind;  it's  a  better-looking  crea- 
ture than  most  monkeys." 

"I  never  saw  a  monkey,"  said   the   Pen. 
"  How  many  legs  has  it  ?" 

"Two  legs,  two  arms,  a  tail,  and  a  head,"  Jimmieboy 
answered. 

"Something  like  this  ?"  queried  the  Quill,  dashing  off  a 
picture  complacently — he  felt  so  sure  that  this  time  ho  was 
right. 

"Very  much  like  that,"  Jimmieboy  re- 
plied, smothering  his  mirth  for  fear  of  of- 
fending the  Quill,  though  if  you  will  refer 
to  the  drawing  you  will  see  that  the  Quill 
was  quite  as  inaccurate  in  his  picture  of 
the  monkey  as  he  was  with  his  zebras. 

"I   thought  I'd  get   you  to  admit  that 
that  was  a  good  monkey,"  observed   the 
Quill, regarding  his  work  with  pride.    "I've 
THE  MON-KEV.  seeu    a   good    many   keys,  and,   of  course, 
when  you  said  the  creature  had  two  legs, 
two  arms,  a  tail,  and  a  head,  I  knew  that  he  was  nothing 
but  a  key  to  whom  had  been  given  those  precious  gifts  of 
nature.     To  draw  a  key  is  easy,  aud  to  provide  it  with  the 
other  features  was  not  hard." 

Jimmieboy  was  silent.  He  was  too  full  of  laughter 
even  to  open  his  mouth,  and  so  he  kept  it  tightly  closed. 

"  What  '11  I  draw  next  ?"  asked  the  Quill,  after  a  minute 
or  two  of  silence. 

"Can  you  do  mountains '?"  queried  Jimmieboy. 
"  What  are  they  ?"  asked  the  Quill. 

"They're  great  big  rocks  that  go  up  in  the  air  and  have 
trees  on  'em,"  explained  Jimmieboy. 

The  Quill  looked  puzzled,  and  then  he  glanced  reproach- 
fully at  Jimmieboy. 

"  I  think  you  are  making  fun  of  me,"  lie  said,  solemnly. 
"No, I'm  not, "said  Jimmieboy.    "  Why  should  you  think 
such  a  thing  as  that?" 

"Well,  I  know  some  things,  aud  what  I  know  makes  me 
believe  what  I  think.  I  think  you  are  making  fun  of  me 
when  you  talk  of  big  rocks  going  up  in  the  air  with  trees 
on  'em.  Rocks  are  too  heavy  to  go  up  in  the  air  even 
when  they  haven't  trees  on  'em,  aud  I  don't  think  it's  very 
nice  of  you  to  try  to  fool  me  the  way  you  have." 

"I  don't  mean  like  a  balloon,"  Jimmieboy  hastened  to 
explain.  "It's  a  big  rock  that  sits  on  the  ground  aud 
reaches  up  into  the  air  and  has  trees  on  it." 

"I  don't  believe  there  ever  was  such  a  thing,"  returned 
the  offended  Quill.  "Here's  what  one  would  look  like  if 
it  could  ever  be,"  he  added,  sketching  the  following: 

"What  on  earth!"  ejaculated  Jim- 
mieboy. 

"  What  ?  Why,  a  mountain — that's 
what!"  retorted  the  Quill.  "Don't 
you  see,  my  dear  boy,  you've  just 
proved  you  were  trying  to  fool  me. 
I've  put  down  the  thing  you  said  a 
mountain  was,  and  you  as  much  as 
say  yourself  that  it  can't  be." 

"But — how  do  you  make  it  out? 
That's    what    I    can't    see,"    remon- 
strated Jimmieboy. 

"It's  perfectly  simple,"  said  the  Quill.  "You  said  a 
mountain  was  a  rock;  there's  the  rock  in  the  picture. 
You  said  it  had  trees  on  it;  those  two  things  that  look 
like  pen-wipers  on  sticks  are  the  trees." 

"  But  that  other  thing?"  interrupted  Jimmieboy.  "That 
arm?  I  never,  never,  never  said  a  mountain  had  one  of 
those." 

"  Why,  how  you  do  talk  !"  cried  the  Quill,  angrily.  "  You 
told  me  first  that  the  rocks  went  up  in  the  air,  and  when 


Mill  'STAIN. 


----- 


I  showed  you  why  that  couldn't  be,  you  corrected  yourself, 
and  saiil  that  they  reached  up  into  the  air." 
"  Well,  so  I  did,"  said  Jimmieboy. 

"Will  you  kindly  tell  me  how  a  rock  could  reach  up  in 
the  air,  or  around  a  corner,  or  do  any  reaching  at  all.  in 
faet,  unless  it  had  an  arm  to  do  it  with?"  snapped  the 
Quill,  triumphantly. 

Again  Jimmieboy  found  it  best  to  keep  silent.  The 
Quill,  thinking  that  his  silence  was  due  to  regret,  immedi- 
ately became  amiable,  and  volunteered  the  .statement  that 
if  he  knew  the  names  of  flowers  he  thought  he  could  draw 
some  of  them. 

"Pausies,  cowslips,  aud  geraniums,"  suggested  Jimmie- 
boy. 

"Good!  Here  you  are,"  returned  the  Quill,  rapidly 
sketching  the  following: 

"That  pansy, "he  said,  as  Jimmie- 
boy gazed  at  his  work,  "  is  a  frying- 
pausy.  How  is  this  for  a  battle 
scene?"  he  added,  drawing  the  fol- 
lowing singular-looking  picture. 

"  Very  haud- 
A    PANSY.      A  COWSLIP,  some !"        said 

A    POTTED    G-KANIl'M.          J  i  1U  111  i  6  b  O  y . 

"But — er — just 
what  are  those  things?     Snakes?" 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  the  Quill.    "  The 
idea!     Who  ever  saw  a  snake  with 
wings?     One  is  a  C  gull  and  the  other  is  a  J  bird." 
"Can  you  draw  a  blue  bird?"  asked  Jimmieboy. 
"I  think  so,"  auswered  the  Quill,  as  he  carefully  drew 
this  strange  creature. 

"  You  haven't  given  him  any  wings,"  said 
Jimmieboy,  after  carefully  examining  the  pic- 
ture. 

"No:  that's  the  reason  he  is  blue.     He  has 
to  walk  all  the  time.     That's  enough  to  make 
A  BLUEBIRD     any  body  blue,"  explained  the  Quill.      "Here's 
a  puzzle  for  you !"  he  added.     "  Guess  what 
it  is,  and  I'll  write  to  your  Uncle  Periwinkle  and  tell  him 
if  he'll  come  up  here  on  Saturday  with  two  dollars  in  his 
pockets,  you  will  show  him  where  you  and  he  can  get  the 
best  soda-water  made. 

This  is  the  picture  the  Quill  then 
presented  to  Jimmieboy's  astonished 
gaze. 

"Humph!"  said  Jimmieboy.  "Ft 
looks  like  two  men  on  horseback  run- 
ning after  something,  but  what,  I'm 
sure  I  don't  know." 

"  What  does  it  look  like  ?"  asked  the      STEEPLE-CHASING. 
Quill. 

"  Nothing  that  I  ever  saw." 

"  Nonsense !"  returned  the  Pen.  "Does  it  look  like  a 
fox,  or  a  Chinese  laundry,  or  a  what?" 

"  It  doesn't  look  like  any  of  'em,"  insisted  Jimmieboy. 
"Dear  me!   How  dull  you  are!"  cried  the  Quill.    "Why, 
boy,  it's  a  church  steeple,  that's  what.     Now  what  is  the 
whole  tiling  a  picture  of?" 

"  A  steeple-chase  !"  cried  Jimmieboy. 
"Exactly,"  said  the  Quill,  very  much  pleased  that  after 
all  Jimmieboy  had  guessed  it.     "Aud  now  I'll  write  that 
letter  to  Uncle' Peri  winkle." 
And  so  he  wrote; 

P.  S. — DEAR  UNCLE  PERIWINKLE, 

Come  up  on  Saturday.  Bring  all  the  money  you've 
got,  and  the  soda-water  we'll  have  will  sail  a  yacht.  If 
you  can't  come,  send  the  money,  and  I'll  look  after  sailing 
the  yacht.  Yours  affectionately,  JIMMIEBOY. 

"  Will  that  do  ?"  asked  the  Quill. 

"Yes,"  said  Jimmieboy.     "  And  now  put  it.  hi  an  envel- 
ope, aud  I'll  put  it  with  the  letters  to  be  mailed." 
"  Now  draw  some  more,"  he  said,  alter  this  had  been  mailed. 

But  the  Quill  auswered  never  a  word.  He  had  evidently 
fallen  asleep.  Strange  to  say,  Uncle  Periwinkle  never  got 
his  letter,  and  the  pictures  the  Quill  made  all  faded  from 
sight,  and  so  were  lost. 


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SNOW-SHOES    AND    SLEDGES.* 

BY     KIRK     MUNROE. 

CHAPTER   XXXIX. 
INVADING   A  CAPTAIN'S  CABIN. 

AN  earthquake  could  hardly  have  caused  greater  con- 
sternation iu  the  village  of  Klukwan  than  did  the 
boom  of  that  heavy  gun  as  it  came  echoiug  np  the  pali- 
saded valley  of  the  Chilkat.  Not  many  years  before  tin- 
Indians  of  that  section  had  defied  the  power  of  the  United 
States,  and  tilled  several  American  citizens.  A  gunboat, 
hurried  to  the  scene  of  trouble,  shelled  and  destroyed  one 
of  their  villages  in  retaliation.  From  that  time  on  no 
sound  was  so  terrible  to  them  as  the  roar  of  a  big  gun. 

While  Phil  and  his  companions  were  chafing  at  the  delay 
imposed  upon  them  by  the  greed  of  the  Chilkat  Shaman  a 
government  vessel  arrived  in  the  neighboring  inlet  of  Chil- 
koot,  bearing  a  party  of  scientific  men  who  were  to  cross 
the  mountains  at  that  point  for  an  exploration  of  the  up- 
per Yukon,  and  the  locating  of  the  boundary  line  between 
Alaska  and  Canada. 

The  Princess,  learning  of  its  presence,  and  despairing  of 
assisting  her  white  friends  in  any  other  way,  secretly  de- 
spatched a  messenger  to  the  Captain  of  the  ship  with  the 
information  that  some  Americans  were  being  detained  in 
Klukwau  against  their  will.  Upon  receipt  of  this  news 
the  Captain  promptly  steamed  around  into  Chilkat  Inlet 
and  as  near  to  its  head  as  the  draught  of  his  vessel  would 
allow.  As  he  dropped  anchor,  there  came  such  a  sound  of 
firing  from  up  the  river  that,  he  imagined  a  fight  to  be  iu 
progress,  and  fired  one  of  his  o\vn  big  guns  to  give  warning 
of  his  presence. 

The  effect  of  this  dread  message  was  instantaneous. 
Phil  Ryder  dropped  his  uplifted  arm.  The  Chilkat  Shaman 
scuttled  away,  issued  an  order,  and  within  five  minutes  a 
new  and  perfectly  equipped  canoe  was  marvellously  pro- 
duced from  somewhere  and  tendered  to  Serge  Belcofsky. 
Five  minutes  later  he  and  his  companions  had  taken  a 
grateful  leave  of  the  Princess,  and  were  embarked  with  all 
their  effects,  including  the  three  dogs. 

Phil  stationed  himself  in  the  bow,  Serge  tended  sheet, 
and  Jalap  Coombs  steered.  As  before  the  prevailing 
northerly  wind  their  long-beaked  canoe  shot  out  from  the 
river  into  the  wider  \yaters  of  the  inlet,  and  they  saw,  at 
anchor,  less  than  one  mile  away,  a  handsome  cutter  flying 
the  United  States  revenue  flag,  the  three  friends  uttered  a 
simultaneous  cry  of,  "The  Phoca!" 

"Hurrah!"  yelled  Phil. 

"  Hurrah !"  echoed  Serge. 

"  Bless  her  pretty  picter!"  roared  Jalap  Coombs,  standing 
up  and  waving  the  old  tarpaulin  hat  that,  though  often 
eclipsed  by  a  fur  hood,  had  been  faithfully  cherished  during 
the  entire  journey. 

At  that  r.inmeiit  one  of  the  cutter's  boats,  in  command 
of  a  strange  Lieutenant,  with  a  howitzer  mounted  in  its 
bow,  and  manned  by  a  dozen  heavily  armed  sailors,  hailed 
the  canoe  and  shot  alongside. 

"What's  the  trouble  up  the  river  1"  demanded  the  officer. 

"There  isn't  any, "answered  Serge. 

"What  was  all  the  firing  about?" 

"Celebrating  some  sort  of  native  Fourth  of  July.  Is 
Captain  Matthews  still  in  command  of  the  Phocaf" 

"  Yes.     Does  he  know  you  ?" 

"  I  rather  guess  he  does,  and,  with  your  permission,  we'll 
report  to  him  iu  person." 

"Pull  up  the  hoo'ds  of  your  parkas,"  said  Phil  to  his 
companions,  "and  we'll  give  the  Captain  a  surprise  party." 

A  minute  later  one  of  the  Plioca's  Quartermasters  reported 
to  the  Captain  that  a  canoe-load  of  natives  was  almost 
alongside. 

"  Very  well ;  let  them  come  aboard,  and  I'll  hear  what 
they  have  to  say." 

In  vain  did  the  Quartermaster  strive  to  direct  the  canoe 
tn  the  port  gangway.     The  natives  did  not  seem  to  under- 
stand, and  insisted  on   rounding  up  under  the  starboard 
*  Begun  iu  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  No.  801. 


quarter,  reserved  fur  officers  and  distinguished  guests.  One 
of  them  sprang  out  the  moment  its  bow  touched  the  side 
steps,  clambered  aboard,  pushed  aside  the  wrathful  Quar- 
termaster, anil  started  for  the  Captain's  door  \\ith  the 
sailor  in  hot  pursuit. 

"  Hold  on, you  blooming  young  savage!  Ye  can't  go  in 
there, "he  shouted,  but  to  heedless  ears. 

As  Phil  gained  the  door  it  was  opened  by  the  Commander 
himself,  who  was  about  to  come  out  for  a  look  at  the  na- 
tives. 

"  How  are  you,  Captain  Matthews  ?"  shouted  the  fur-clad 
intruder  into  the  sacred  privacy  of  the  cabin,  at  the  same 
time  raising  a  hand  iu  salute.  "It  is  awfully  good  of  yon, 
sir,  to  come  for  us.  I  only  hope  you  didn't  bother  to  wait 
very  long  at  the  Pribyloft's." 

"Eh  ?  What  ?  Who  are  yon,  sir  ?  What  does  this  mean  ? 
Phil  Ryder!  Yon  young  villain!  You  scamp!  Bless  my 
soul,  but  this  is  the  most  wonderful  thing  I  ever  heard  of!" 
cried  the  astonished  Commander,  staggering  back  into  the 
cabin,  and  pulling  Phil  after  him.  "May,  daughter,  look 
here!" 

At  that  moment  there  came  a  yelping  rush,  and  with  a 
chorus  of  excited  barkings  Musky,  Luvtuk,  and  big  Amook 
dashed  pell-mell  into  the  cabin.  After  them  came  Serge, 
Jalap  Coombs,  and  the  horrified  Quartermaster,  all  striving 
in  vain  to  capture  and  restrain  the  riotous  dogs.  As  if  any 
one  could  prevent  them  from  following  and  sharing  the 
joy  of  the  young  master  who  had  fed  them  night  after 
night  for  months  by  lonely  camp-fires  of  the  Yukon  Valley  ! 

So  they  flung  themselves  into  the  cabin,  and  tore  round 
and  round,  amid  such  a  babel  of  shouts,  laughter,  barkings, 
and  crash  of  overturned  furniture  as  was  never  before  heard 
iu  that  orderly  apartment. 

Finally  the  terrible  dogs  were  captured,  one  by  one,  and 
led  away.  May  Matthews  emerged  from  a  safe  retreat, 
where,  convulsed  with  laughter,  she  had  witnessed  the 
whole  uproarious  proceeding.  Her  father,  still  ejaculating 
"Bless  my  soul!"  at  intervals,  gradually  recovered  suf- 
ficient composure  to  recognize  and  welcome  Serge  and 
"  Ipecac  "  CoonTbs,  as  he  persisted  in  calling  poor  Jalap. 
The  upset  chairs  were  placed  to  rights,  and  all  hands  be- 
gan to  ask  questions  with  such  rapidity  that  no  one  had 
time  to  pause  for  answers. 

Frolu  the  confusion  Captain  Matthews  finally  evolved 
an  understanding  that  the  boys  were  still  desirous  of  reach- 
ing Sitka,  whereupon  he  remarked  : 

"Sitka,  Sitka.  It  never  occurred  to  me  that  you  had 
any  desire  to  visit  Sitka.  I  thought  your  sole  ambition 
was  to  attain  the  North  Pole.  If  you  had  only  mentioned 
Sitka  last  summer  I  might  have  arranged  the  trip  for  you, 
but  now  I  fear — 

At  this  moment  there  came  a  knock  at  the  door,  and 
when  it  was  opened  the  Quartermaster  began  to  say,  "Ex- 
cuse me,  sir,  but  here's  another — :  Before  he  could  finish 
his  sentence  a  small  furry  object  jerked  away  from  him 
with  such  force,  that  it  took  a  header  into  the  room  and 
landed  at,  the  feet  of  the  Commander  on  all  fours,  like  a 
little  bear. 

"  Bless  my  soul !  What's  this  ?"  cried  Captain  Matthews, 
springing  to  one  side  iu  dismay. 

"  It's  a  baby!"  screamed  Miss  May,  darting  forward  and 
snatching  up  the  child.  "A  darling  little  Indian  in  furs. 
Where  did  it  come  from?" 

"  Great  Scott!"  exclaimed  Phil,  remorsefully.  "To  think 
that  we  should  have  forgotten  Nel-te!" 

"Are  there  any  more  yet  to  come  ?"  demanded  the  Cap- 
tain. 

"No,  sir;  the  whole  ship's  company  is  present  and  ac- 
counted for,"  replied  Jalap  Coombs.  "  But  with  your  leave, 
sir,  I'll  just  step  out  and  take  a  look  at  our  boat,  for  she's 
a  ticklish  craft  to  navigate,  and  might  come  to  grief  iu 
strange  hands." 

So  saying,  the  honest  fellow,  who  had  made  an  excuse  to 
escape  from  the  cabin,  where  he  felt  awkward  and  out  of 
place,  as  well  as  uncomfortably  warm  iu  his  fur  garments, 
pulled  at  the  fringe  of  long  wolf's  hairs  surrounding  his 
face,  and  shuffled  away.  A  few  minutes  later  saw  him  in 
the  forecastle,  where,  divested  of  his  nusailorlike  parka, 

718 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


puffing  with  infinite  zest  at  one  of  the  blackest  of  pipes 
tilled  with  the  blackest  of  tobacco,  and  the  centre  of  an  ad- 
miring group  of  seamen,  he  was  spinning  incredible  yarns 
of  Ills  recent  and  wonderful  experiences  with  snow-shoes 
and  sledges. 

In  the  mean  time  May  Matthews  was  delightedly  win- 
ning Nel-te's  baby  affections,  while  Phil  and  Serge  were 
still  plying  the  Captain  with  questions. 

"  Were  yon  saying,  sir,  that  you  feared  you  couldn't  take 
us  to  Sitka?"  inquired  Serge, anxiously. 

'•Not  at  all, my  lad, "replied  the  Captain.  "I  was  about 
to  remark  that  I  feared  you  would  uot  care  to  go  there 
now,  seeing  that  there  is  hardly  any  one  in  Sitka  whom  you 
want  to  see,  unless  it  is  your  mother  and  sisters  and  Phil 
Ryder's  father  and  Aunt  Ruth." 

"What!"  cried  Phil,  "iny  Aunt  Ruth  !  Are  you  certain, 
sir?" 

"Certain  I  am,"  replied  Captain  Matthews,  "that  if  both 
the  individuals  I  have  just  mentioned  aren't  already  in  Sit- 
ka, they  will  bo  there  very  shortly,  for  I  left  them  in  San 
Francisco  preparing  to  start  at  once.  Moreover,  I  have  or- 
ders to  carry  yonr  father  to  St.  Michaels,  where  he  expects 
to  find  you.  So  now  you  see  in  what  a  complication  your 
turning  up  in  this  outlandish  fashion  involves  me." 

"  But  how  did  my  Aunt  Ruth  ever  happen  to  come  out 
liere?"  inquired  Phil. 

"  Came  out  to  nurse  your  father  while  his  leg  was  mend- 
ing, and  incidentally  to  find  out  what  had  become  of  an 
iindiitifnl  nephew  whom  she  seems  to  fancy  has  an  apti- 
tude for  getting  into  scrapes,"  laughed  the  Captain. 

"  Has  my  father  recovered  from  his  accident  ?" 

"So  entirely  that  he  fancies  his  leg  is  sounder  and  bet- 
ter than  ever  it  was." 

"  And  are  you  bound  for  Sitka  now,  sir?" 

"Certainly  I  am,  and  should  have  been  half-way  there 
by  this  time  if  I  hadn't  been  delayed  by  a  report  of  some 
sort  of  a  row  between  the  Chilkats  and  a  party  of  white's. 
Now,  having  settled  that  difficulty  by  capturing  the  entire 
force  of  aggressors,  I  propose  to  carry  them  to  Sitka  as 
legitimate  prisoners,  and  then  turn  them  over  to  the  au- 
thorities. So,  gentlemen,  yon  will  please  consider  your- 
selves as  prisoners  of  war,  and  under  orders  not  to  leave 
this  ship  until  she  arrives  at  Sitka." 

"With  pleasure,  sir,"  laughed  Phil.  "Only  don't  you 
think  you'd  better  place  us  under  guard?" 

"I  expect  it  will  be  best,"  replied  the  Captain,  gravely, 
"  seeing'  that  yon  are  charged  with  seal-poaching,  piracy, 
defying  government  officers,  and  escaping  from  arrest,  as 
well  as  the  present  one  of  making  war  011  native  Ameri- 
cans." 

CHAPTER  XL. 
IN   SITKA  TOWN. 

THE  long-beaked  and  wonderfully  carved  Chilkat  canoe 
was  taken  on  the  P/ioco's  deck,  the  anchor  was  weighed, 
and,  with  the  trim  cutter  headed  southward,  the  last  stage 
of  the  adventurous  journey,  pursued  amid  such  strange 
vicissitudes,  was  begun.  As  the  ship  sped  swiftly  past  the 
overhanging  ice-fields  of  Davidson  Glacier,  out  of  Chilkat 
Inlet  into  the  broad  mountain-walled  waters  of  Lynn  Ca- 
nal, and  down  that  thoroughfare  into  Chatham  Strait,  Cap- 
tain Matthews  listened  with  absorbed  interest  to  Phil's  ac- 
count of  the  remarkable  adventures  that  he  and  Serge  had 
encountered  from  the  time  he  had  last  seen  them  at  the 
Pribyloff  islands  down  to  the  present  moment. 
.  "  Well,"  said  he,  when  the  recital  was  finished,  "  I've  done 
a, good  bit  of  knocking  about  in  queer  places  during  thirty 
years  of  going  to  sea,  and  had  some  experiences,  but  my 
life  has  been  tame  and  monotonous  compared  with  the  one 
you  have  led  for  the  past  year.  Why,  lad,  if  an  account 
of  what  you  have  gone  through  in  attempting  to  take  a 
quiet  little  trip  from  New  London  to  Sitka  was  written  out 
and  printed  in  a  book,  people  wouldn't  believe  it  was  true. 
They'd  shake  their  heads  and  say  it  was  all  made  up,  which 
only  goes  to  prove,  what  I  never  believed  before,  that  truth 
is  sometimes  stranger  than  fiction,  after  all." 

".Yes,"  replied  Phil ;  "  and  the  strangest  part  of  it  all  is 


the  way  that  fur-seal's  tooth  has  followed  us  and  exerted 
its  influence  in  our  behalf  from  the  beginning  to  the  very 
end.  Why,  sir,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  that,  tooth  you  wouldn't 
have  come  to  Chilkat,  and  we  shouldn't  be  in  the  happy 
position  we  are  at  this  very  moment." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say,"  cried  Captain  Matthews,  "  that 
it  turned  up  again  after  your  father  lost  it?" 

"Oh  yes,  sir,  and  it's  been  with  us,  ott'  and  on,  all  the 
time." 

"Then  at  last  I  can  have  the  pleasure  of  showing  it  to 
my  daughter.  Would  you  mind  letting  me  have  it  for  a 
few  minutes?" 

"Unfortunately,  sir — : 

"Now  don't  tell  me  that  yon  have  gone  and  lost  it 
again." 

"Not  exactly  lost  it,"  replied  Phil.  "At  the  same  time, 
I  don't  know  precisely  where  it  is  nor  what  has  become  of 
it,  only  it  is  somewhere  back  in  Klnkwau,  where  it  ori- 
ginally came  from,  and  I  have  every  reason  to  believe  that 
it  is  in  possession  of  the  principal  Chilkat  Shaman." 

"I  declare  that  is  too  bad!"  exclaimed  the  Captain.  "If 
I  had  known  that  sooner  I  believe  I  should  have  kept  right 
on  and  shelled  the  village  until  they  gave  me  the  tooth,  so 
strong  is  rny  desire  to  get  hold  of  it." 

"And  so  secured  to  yourself  the  ill  luck  of  him  who 
steals  it,"  laughed  Phil. 

That  afternoon  the  Plioca  turned  sharply  to  the  right, 
and  began  to  thread  the  swift-rushing  and  rock-strewn 
waters  of  Peril  Strait,  the  narrow  channel  that  washes  the 
northern  end  of  Baranoft'  Island,  on  which  Sitka  is  situated. 
Now  Serge  stood  on  the  bridge  beside  his  friend,  so  nervous 
with  excitement  that  he  could  hardly  speak.  Every  roaring 
t  ide  rip  and  swirling  eddy  of  those  waters,  every  rock  with 
its  streamers  of  brown  kelp,  every  beach  and  wooded  point 
were  like  familiar  faces  to  the  young  Russo-Americau,  for 
just  beyond  them  lay  his  home,  that  dear  home  from  which 
he  had  been  more  than  three  years  absent. 

Suddenly  he  clutched  Phil's  arm,  and  pointed  to  a  lofty 
snow -crowned  peak  looming  high  above  the  forest  and 
bathed  in  rosy  sunlight.  "There's  Mount  Edgecumbe!"  he 
cried;  and  a  few  minutes  afterward,  "There's  Verstoroi." 
Phil  felt  the  nervous  fingers  tremble  as  they  gripped  his 
arm;  and  \\hcn,  a  little  later  the  cutter  swept  fiom  a  nar- 
row passage  into  an  island -studded  bay,  he  could  hardly 
hear  the  hoarse  whisper  of:  "  There,  Phil!  There's  Sitka! 
Dear,  beautiful  Sitka!" 

And  Phil  was  nearly  as  excited  as  Serge  to  think  that, 
after  twelve  months  of  ceaseless  wanderings,  the  goal  for 
which  he  had  set  forth  was  at  last  reached. 

The  Plioca  had  hardly  dropped  anchor  before  another 
ship  appeared,  entering  the  bay  from  the  same  direction. 

"The  mail-steamer  from  Puget  Sound, "announced  Cap- 
tain Matthews. 

This  boat  brought  but  few  passengers,  for  the  season  was 
yet  too  early  for  tourists ;  but  on  her  upper  deck  stood  a 
gentleman  and  a  lady,  the  former  of  whom  was  pointing 
out  objects  of  interest  almost  as  eagerly  as  Serge  had  done 
a  short  time  before. 

"  It  is  lovely, "said  his  companion, enthusiastically,  "but 
it  seeins  perfectly  incredible  that  I  should  actually  be  here, 
and  that  this  is  the  place  for  which  our  Phil  set  out  with 
such  high  hopes  a  year  ago.  Do  yon  realize,  John,  that  it 
is  just  one  year  ago  to-day  since  he  left  New  London  ?  Oh, 
if  we  only  knew  where  the  dear  boy  was  at  this  minute! 
And  to  think  that  I  should  have  got  here  before  him!" 

"Now  he  will  probably  never  get  here,"  replied  Mr. 
Ryder.  "  For,  on  account  of  that  California  ofter,  I  shall  be 
obliged  to  return  directly  to  San  Francisco  from  St.  Mi- 
chaels without  even  a  chance  of  going  up  the  Yukon, 
which  I  know  will  be  a  great  disappointment  to  Phil. 
But  look  there,  Ruth.  You  have  been  wanting  to  see  a 
canoe-load  of  Indians,  and  here  comes  as  typical  a  one  as  I 
ever  saw.  A  perfect  specimen  of  an  Alaskan  dugout,  na- 
tives in  full  winter  costume,  Eskimo  dogs,  and  a  sledge." 

"And,  oh!"  cried  Miss  Ruth,  "there  is  a  tiny  bit  of  a 
child,  all  in  furs,  just  like  its  father.  See?  Nestled  among 
the  dogs,  with  a  pair  of  wee  snow-shoes  on  his  back  ton  ? 
Isn't  he  a  darling?  How  I  should  love  to  hug  him!  '  >h, 

Hi) 


'AUNT    RUTH,   YOU'RE    A    BRICK!    A    PERFECT    BRICK!" 


John,  we  must  find  them  when  we  get  ashore ;   for  that 
child  is  the  very  cutest  thing  I  have  seen  iu  all  Alaska^" 

By  this  time  the  steamer  was  made  fast,  and  the  passeu- 
gers  were  already  going  ashore.  When  Mr.  Ryder  and  his 
sister  gaiued  the  wharf  they  were  surprised  to  see  that  the 
canoe  in  which  they  were  interested  had  come  to  the  land- 
ing-stage, where  its  occupants  were  already  disembarking. 
The  next  moment  she  uttered  a  shriek  of  horror,  for  one 
of  them  had  thrown  his  arms  around  her  neck  and  kissed  her. 

"Aunt  Ruth,  you're  a  brick!  a  perfect  brick!"  he  cried. 
"  To  think  of  you  coming  away  out  here  to  see  me  '."  Then 
turning  to  Mr.  Ryder,  and  embracing  that  bewildered 
gentleman  in  his  furry  arms,  the  excited  boy  exclaimed : 
"And  pop!  You  dear  old  pop!  If  you  only  knew  how- 
distressed  I  have  been  about  you.  If  you  hadn't  turned 
up,  just  as  you  have,  I  should  have  dropped  everything  and 
gone  in  search  of  you." 

"Oh,  Phil!  How  could  you?"  gasped  Aunt  Ruth.  "You 
frightened  me  almost  to  death,  and  have  crushed  me  all 
ont  of  shape.  You  are  a  regular  polar-bear  in  all  those 
furs  and  things.  What  do  you  mean,  sir?  Oh  you  dear, 
dear  boy !"  At  this  point  Miss  Ruth's  feelings  so  com- 
pletely overcame  her  that  she  sank  down  on  a  convenient 
log  and  burst  into  hysterical  weeping. 

"  There,  you  young  scamp !"  cried  Mr.  Ryder,  whose  own 
eyes  were  full  of  joyful  tears  at  that  moment.  "  See  what 
you  have  done !  Aren't  you  ashamed  of  yourself,  sir  ?" 

"  Yes,  pop,  awfully.  But  I've  got  something  that  will 
cheer  her  np  and  amuse  her.  And  here's  Serge  and —  No 
he  isn't,  either.  What  has  become  of  Serge?  Oh,  I  sup- 
pose he  has  gone  homo.  Don't  see  why  he  need  to  be  in 
such"a  hurry,  though.  No  matter;  here's  Jalap  Coombs. 
You  remember  Jalap,  father  ?  And  here,  Aunt  Ruth,  is  the 
curio  I  promised  to  bring  you.  Look  out;  it's  alive!" 

With  this  the  crazy  lad  snatched  Nel-te  from  the  arms  of 


Jalap  Coombs,  who  had  just  brought  him  up  the  steps,  and; 
laid  him  iu  Miss  Ruth's  lap,  saying,  "He's  a  little  orphan, 
kid  I  found  iu  the  wilderness, and  adopted  for  you  to  love."' 

Miss  Ruth  gave  such  a  start  as  the  small  bundle  of  fur 
was  so  unexpectedly  thrust  at  her  that  poor  Nel-te  rolled 
to  the  ground.  From  there  he  lifted  such  a  pitifully  fright- 
ened little  face,  with  such  tear-tilled  eyes  and  quivering  lip, 
that  Miss  Ruth  snatched  him  np  and  hugged  him.  Then 
she  kissed  and  petted  him  to  such  an  extent  that  by  the 
time  he  was  again  smiling  he  had  won  a  place  iu  her  loving 
heart  second  only  to  that  occupied  by  Phil  himself. 

With  this  journey's  end  also  came  the  partings  that  al- 
ways form  so  sad  a  feature  of  all  journeys' ends.  Even  the 
three  dogs  that  had  travelled  together  for  so  long  were- 
separated,  Musky  being  given  to  Serge,  Lnvtnk  to  May 
Matthews,  to  become  the  pet  of  the  Plioca's  crew,  and  big 
Amook  going  with  Phil,  Aunt  Ruth,  Nel-te,  the  sledge,  the 
snow-shoes,  and  the  beautiful  white  thick-furred  skin  of  a 
mountain  goat  to  distant  New  London. 

Mr.  Ryder  and  Jalap  Coombs  accompanied  them  as  far  as. 
San  Francisco.  Dear  old  Serge  was  reluctantly  left,  be- 
hind, busily  making  preparations  to  carry  out  his  cherished 
scheme  of  returning  to  Auvik  as  a  teacher. 

In  Sail  Francisco  Mr.  Ryder  secured  for  Jalap  Coombs  the 
command  of  a  trading  schooner  plying  between  that  port 
and  Honolulu.  When  it  was  announced  to  him  that  he 
was  at  last  actually  a  captain,  the  honest  fellow's  voice 
trembled  with  emotion  as  he  answered: 

"  Mr.  Ryder,  sir.  mill  Phil,  I  never  did  wholly  look  to  be  a 
full-rigged  cap'n,  though  I've  striv  and  waited  for  the  berth 
nigh  "ii  to  forty  year.  Now  I  know  that  it's  just  as  my  old 
friend  Kite  Koberson  useter  say;  for  he  allers  said, "old  Kite 
did,  'That  them  as  waits  the  patientest  is  bound  to  see 
things  happen.'" 

THK  END. 


OAKLEIGH. 


BY      E  L  L  E  X     DOUGLAS      D  E  L  A  N  D. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

MR.  FRANKLIN'S  announcement  at  first  almost  stunned 
his  children.     They  could  not  believe  it.     Jack  and 
Cynthia,   were   somewhat  prepared    fur  it,  it   is   true,  but 
when   they  heard  the  news  from  their  father's  o\vn  lips  it 
was  none  the  less  startling. 

To  Edith  it  came  like  a  thunderbolt.  She  had  never  had 
the  smallest  suspicion  that  her  father  would  marry  again. 
She  had  always  supposed  that  she  would  be  sufficient  for 
him.  She  would  never  marry  herself,  she  thought,  but 
would  stay  at  home  and  be  the  comfort  of  his  declining 
years.  It  had  never  occurred  to  her  that  her  father,  still  a 
young  and  good-looking  man  of  barely  forty,  would  be  ex- 
ceedingly likely  to  marry  a  second  time. 

And  now  what  was  to  happen  ?  A  stranger  was  coming 
to  rule  over  them.  Edith  would  never  endure  it,  never! 
She  would  go  away  and  live  with  Aunt  Betsey.  Anything 
would  be  better  than  a  step-mother. 

When  she  spoke  her  voice  was  hard  and  unnatural. 

"Haven't  I  done  right,  papa  ?  Weren't  yon  satisfied 
with  me?  I  have  tried." 

"My  dear  child,  you  have  done  your  best,  but  you  are 
too  young.     No  one  can  expect  a  girl  of  sixteen  to  take 
entire  charge  of  a  house  and  family.     And   it  is  not  only 
that.     Hester    is    a    charming  woman.     She    reminds    me 
something    of   your    mother,  Edith.     It    was    that    which 
first    attracted    me.       She 
will  be  a  companion  to  you 
— -a  sister." 

"Thank  yon,  hut  I  don't 
need  either.  Cynthia  is  all 
the  sister  I  want.  Oh,  papa, 
papa,  why  are  you  going  to 
doit!" 

She  went  to  her  own  room 
and  shut  the  door.  After 
this  one  outbreak  she  said 
no  more.  Small  things 
made  Edith  storm  and  even 
cry,  dignified  though  she 
was.  This  great  shock 
stunned  her.  She  did  not 
shed  a  tear,  and  she  bore  it 
in  silence  ;  but  a  hard  feel- 
ing came  into  her  heart, 
and  she  determined  that 
she  would  never  forgive 
this  Miss  Gordon  who  had 
entrapped  her  father  (so 
she  put  it),  and  was  coming 
to  rule  over  them  and  or- 
der them  about.  She,  for 
one,  would  never  submit  to 
it. 

Jack  did  not  mind  it  in 
the  least,  and  Cynthia,  who 
idolized  her  father,  was  sure 
from  what  he  said  that  he 
was  doing  what  he  consid- 
ered was  for  his  happiness. 
Of  course  it  was  terrible  for 
them,  bnt  they  must  make 
the  best  of  it. 

They  passed  a  dreary 
Sunday,  but  Monday  was 
expected  to  be  an  exciting 
day,  for  on  that  date  the 
chickens  were  to  appear. 
But  when  the  children  re- 
turned from  school  there 
were  but  small  signs  of  the 
anticipated  hatch  in  the 
incubator;  one  shell  only 
had  a  little  crack  on  the  end. 


Cynthia  took  up  her  position  in  front  of  the  machine 
with  a  book,  and  waited  patiently  hour  after  hour.  No- 
thing came.  The  next  morning  there  was  another  crack 
in  the  next  egg,  and  the  first  had  spread  a  little,  but  that 
was  all.  The  children  all  \\ent  to  school  but  Edith,  and 
she  felt  too  low-spirited  to  go  down  to  the  cellar  to  watch. 

Janet  and  Willy  were  forbidden  to  go  near  the  place. 
As  punishment  for  their  conduct  on  Saturday,  they  were 
not  to  be  present  at  the  hatching.  It  was  thought  that 
owing  to  what  they  had  done  the  chickens  were  not  forth- 
coming, and  indeed  it  had  been  most  disastrous. 

When  Jack  and  Cynthia  returned  from  school  they 
found  that  t\vo  little  chicks — probably  the  only  two  which 
had  escaped  the  cold  bath — had  emerged  from  their  shells, 
and  were  hopping  dismally  about  in  the  gravel  beneath 
the  trays.  One  hundred  and  ninety-eight  hoped-for  com- 
panions failed  to  appear. 

Jack's  first  hatch  was  anything  but  a  success.  He  bore 
it  bravely,  but  it  was  a  bitter  disappointment.  After  wait- 
ing many  hours  in  the  vain  hope  of  seeing  another  shell 
crack,  he  removed  the  two  little  comrades  to  the  large 
brooder  built  to  hold  a  hundred,  and  then,  nothing  dauuted, 
sent  for  more  eggs.  He  still  had  some  of  Aunt  Betsey's 
money  left. 

Jack  was  plucky,  and  his  pride  would  not  permit  him 
to  give  up.  He  would  profit  by  his  experience,  and  next 


'CYNTI1Y    FRANKLIN,  IT    IS    MORE    THAN    TIME    YOU    HAD    A    MOTHER." 

721 


HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE 


time  he  would  be  victorious.  He  feared  that,  besides  the 
mischief  done  l>y  the  children,  he  had  been  overfussy  in 
liis  eare  of  the  eggs,  and  he  determined  to  act  more  wisely 
in  every  respect. 

In  after-years  Cynthia  looked  hack  upon  the  first  hatch 
ns  one'  of  the  most  depressing  events  in  her  life.  The 
rhildrrii  in  disgrace,  Edith  silent  and  woe-hegone  in  her 
own  room,  sin-  and  Jack  watching  hour  after  hour  in  the 
big  cellar  for  the  chickens  that  never  came,  and,  above 
all.  the  impending  arrival  of  the  second  Mrs.  Franklin. 

Aunt  Betsey  journeyed  down  from  Wayborough  as 
soon  as  she  heard  the  news.  They  did  not  know  she  was 
coming  until  they  saw  one  of  the  station  carriages  slowly 
approaching  the  house,  with  Miss  Triukett's  well-known 
Unmet  inside  of  it.  She  waved  her  hand  gayly,  and 
opened  the  subject  at  once. 

"Well,  well,"  she  cried,  "this  is  news  indeed!  I  want 
to  know!  Nephew  John  going  to  be  married  again  !  Just 
what  I  always  thought  he  had  best  do  for  the  good  of  you 
children.  Have  you  seen  the  bride,  and  what  is  she  like  ?" 
It  was  a  warm  June  day,  and  the  Franklins  were  on  the 
piazza  when  this  was  shouted  to  them  from  the  carriage 
iu  their  aunt's  shrill  voice.  Edith  writhed.  Though  the 
news  was  all  over  Breutou  by  now,  this  would  be  a  fine 
bit  for  the  driver  to  take  back. 

Jack  and  Cynthia  offered  to  help  Aunt  Betsey  to  alight, 
but  she  waved  them  aside. 

"Don't  think  you  must  help  me,  my  dears.  This  good 
news  has  put  new  life  into  me.  How  do  you  all  do  f" 
giving  each  one  of  her  birdlike  kisses,  and  settling  herself 
in  a  favorite  rocking-chair. 

The  younger  children  ran  to  her,  hoping  for  treasures 
from  the  carpet-bag. 

••  I   do   declare,"  exclaimed  she,  "  if  I  didn't  forget  all 
about  you  iu  the  news  of  the  bride!     Never  mind;   wait 
till  next   time,  and   I'll   bring  yon   something  extry  nice 
when  I  come  to  see  the  bride." 
••  What's  a  bride?"  asked  Willy. 

"La,  child,  don't  yon  know?  They  haven't  been  kept 
in  ignorance,  I  hope  ?" 

"Oh  no,  bu,t  they  haven't  heard  her  called  that,"  ex- 
plained Cynthia. 

"  Do  yon  mean  the  lady  that  is  coming  here  to  live  ?" 
asked  Janet.  "Well,  we  don't  like  her,  me  and  Willy. 
Shu's  made  Edith  cross  and  sobby,  and  she's  made  you 
forget  our  presents,  and  she's  made  a  lot  of  fuss.  We 
don't  want  her  here  at  all." 

Miss  Triukett  looked  shocked.  "My  dear  children!" 
she  exclaimed,  too  much  aghast  to  say  more.  Then  she 
turned  to  Edith. 

"  But  now  tell  me  all  about  it.  Have  you  seen  her,  and 
is  she  young  ?" 

"  I  have  7iot  seen  her,  Aunt  Betsey,  and  I  don't  wish  to. 
I  don't  know  whether  she  is  young  or  old,  and  I  don't  care. 
Won't  yon  take  me  home  with  yon,  Aunt  Betsey  ?  Can't 
I  live  with  you  now  ?  I'm  not  needed  here." 
Miss  Betsey  stared  at  her  in  amazement. 
"Edith  Franklin,"  she  said,  folding  her  hands  in  her 
lap,  "I  am  astonished  at  the  state  of  things  I  find  in  this 
household!  Rebelling  against  circumstances  in  this  way, 
and  wishing  to  run  away  from  your  duties!  No,  indeed, 
my  dear.  Much  as  I'd  admire  to  have  you  live  with  me — 
and  there's  a  nice  little  chamber  over  the  living-room  that 
would  suit  you  to  a  T — I'd  never  be  the  one  to  encourage 
\inir  leaving  your  family.  You  are  setting  them  a  bad 
example  as  it  is,  teaching  these  young  things  to  look  with 
disfavor  mi  their  new  mother  that  is  to  be.  No,  indeed. 
Far  be  it  from  me  to  encourage  you.  And,  indeed,  I 
should  have  no  right,  when  my  own  mother  was  a  second 
wife.  Why,  in  the  early  days  of  the  colonies  it  was 
thought  nothing  at  all  for  a  man  to  marry  three  or  four 
times,  as  you'd  know  if  you  had  read  Judge  Sewall's  l>im-y 
.•is  much  as  I  have,  or  other  valuable  works." 

Miss  Triukett  rocked  violently  when  she  had  finished 
this  harangue.  Edith  did  not  reply.  She  had  looked  for 
sympathy  from  Aunt  Betsey;  but  she,  like  all  the  rest  of 
the  world,  seemed  to  think  it  the  best  thing  that  could 
happen. 


As  for  Miss  Betsey,  she  too  was  somewhat  disappointed. 
She  had  hoped  for  some  interesting  items,  and  none  seemed 
to  be  forth-coming. 

"Where's  your  father?"  she  asked,  presently. 

Edith  did  not  reply. 

"He  has  gone  to  Albany,"  said  Cynthia. 

"  Well,  well !     And  when  is  the  wedding  to  be  ?" 

Edith  rose  and  went  into  the  house.  Cynthia  glanced 
after  her  regretfully,  and  then  answered  her  aunt's  ques- 
tion. 

"  It  is  to  be  in  a  week.  It  is  to  be  very  quiet,  because 
— because  Miss  Gordon  is  in  deep  mourning." 

"Do  tell!  I  want  to  know!"  ejaculated  Miss  Triukett. 
"And  are  none  of  you  going  .'" 

"No;  papa  did  not  think  it  was  best.  Hardly  any  one 
will  be  there.  Only  her  brother  and  one  or  two  others." 

"So  she  has  a  brother.     Any  other  relatives?" 

"I  think  not.  She  lost  her  father  and  mother  when  she 
was  very  young,  and  her  grandmother  died  rather  lately." 

"I  want  to  know!     And  when  are  they  coming  home  ?" 

"Very  soon,"  said  Cynthia,  almost  inaudibly. 

"Do  tell!" 

Miss  Betsey  said  no  more  at  present,  but  her  mind  was 
busy. 

"  Where  is  Jackie  ?"  she  next  asked. 

"  I  don't  know.  Gone  to  see  about  the  chickens,  I  sup- 
pose." 

"Oh,  those  little  orphans.  Well,  I  haven't  time  to  ask 
about  them  now,  for  I  think,  Cynthia,  I  would  like  to  call 
upon  my  friend,  Mrs.  Parker.  It  is  a  long  time  since  I  was 
there." 

"Oh,  Aunt  Betsey!"  exclaimed  Cynthia.  It  would  never 
do  for  her  aunt  to  see  Mrs.  Parker.  The  secret  of  her  es- 
capade at  that  good  lady's  house  would  surely  be.  found 
out.  "  Why  do  yon  go  there  this  afternoon  ?" 

"Because,  my  dear,  I  am  here  only  for  a  night,  and  I 
must  see  Mrs.  Parker." 

Cynthia  groaned  inwardly. 

"  And  hear  all  the  village  gossip  about  papa,"  she  thought. 

It  must  be  prevented. 

But  Miss  Trinkett  was  not  to  be  turned  from  her  pur- 
pose. Go  she  would.  Every  available  excuse  in  the  world 
was  brought  up  to  deter  her,  but  the  end  of  it  was  that 
Jack  drove  around  in  the  buggy,  and  Miss  Betsey  departed 
triumphantly. 

Cynthia  awaited  her  return  in  suspense.  She  wished 
that  she  could  run  away.  Her  impersonation  of  her  aunt 
did  not  seem  such  a  joke  as  it  had  at  the  time,  and  then 
she  had  heard  the  dreadful  news  there. 

Miss  Trinkett  came  back  before  very  long  in  high  dud- 
geon. Cynthia  was  alone  on  the  piazza,  for  Edith  had  not 
appeared  again.  She  noticed  that  Jack  was  apparently 
enjoying  a  huge  joke,  and  instead  of  taking  the  horse  to 
the  barn,  he  remained  to  hear  what  Aunt  Betsey  had  to 
say. 

Miss  Triukett  sank  into  a  chair  and  untied  her  bonnet 
strings  with  a  jerk. 

"  Maria  Parker  is  losing  her  mind, "she  announced.  "As 
for  me,  I  shall  never  go  there  again." 

"Why  not,  Aunt  Betsey?"  murmured  Cynthia,  preparing 
herself  for  the  worst. 

"  She  declares  that  I  was  there  two  weeks  ago,  and  that 
she — s/ie  told  me  the  news  of  my  own  nephew's  engage- 
ment !  She  actually  had  the  effrontery  to  say, '  I  told  yon 
so!'  My  own  nephew!  When  his  letter  the  other  day 
was  the  first  I  heard  of  it,  and  I  said  to  Silas,  said  I, '  Silas, 
nephew  John  Franklin  is  going  to  marry  again,  and  give 
a  mother  to  those  children,  and  I'm  glad  of  it,  and  I've  just 
heard  the  news.'  And  now  for  Maria  Parker  to  tell  me 
that  she  told  me,  and  that  I  was  there  two  weeks  ago !  Is 
the  woman  crazy,  or  am  I  the  one  that  has  lost  my  mind? 
Why  don't  you  say  something,  Cynthy  ?  Is  it  possible  you 
agree  with  Mrs.  Parker?  Come,  now,  answer  a  question. 
Was  I  here  two  weeks  ago,  and  did  I  go  and  see  Maria 
Parker?" 

"No,"  murmured  Cynthia,  her  face  crimson,  her  voice 
almost  inaudible.  But  Aunt  Betsey  was  too  much  excited 
to  notice. 


722 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"  Jackie,"  she  said,  tnruiug  to  him,  "will  you  answer  me 
a  question  ?  Did  I  visit  you  two  weeks  ago,  ami  did  I  call 
upon  Mrs.  Parker?" 

Jack  gave  one  look  at  Cynthia,  and  then,  dropping  on 
the  {trass,  rolled  over  and  over  in  an  ecstasy  of  mirth. 

"You're  in  for  it  now,  Miss  Cynthia!"  he  chuckled. 

MUs  Betsey  drew  herself  up. 

"You  have  not  answered  my  questions.  Was  I  here  two 
weeks  ago,  and  did  I  call  upon  Mrs.  Parker?" 

"No,  no,  Aunt  Betsey!"  shouted  Jack.  "You  weren't! 
You  didn't!  Go  ahead,  C'ynth !  Out  with  it!  My  eye, 
I'm  glad  I'm  here  and  nowhere  else!  I've  been  waiting 
for  this  happy  day.  Now  you'll  get  paid  up  for  fooling 
me." 

And  again  he  rolled,  his  long  legs  beating  the  air. 

"I  think  you  are  mean,  Jack,  when  you  were  the  one 
that  made  me  go!"  exclaimed  Cynthia,  indignantly.  Then 
she  relapsed  into  silence.  How  could  she  ever  confess  to 
Aunt  Betsey? 

Miss  Trinkett  hastened  the  climax. 

"I  don't  know  why  Jack  finds  this  so  amusing.  It  is 
not  so  to  my  mind ;  but  if  you  are  quite  sure  that  I  was 
not  here,  and  that  I  did  not  call  upon  Mrs.  Parker,  I  must 
ask  you  to  drive  down  with  me  at  once  and  state  the  facts 
to  her.  I  cannot  have  it  insinuated  that  I  am  no  longer 
capable  of  judging  for  myself,  and  of  knowing  what  I  do 
and  what  I  don't  do.  She  actually  told  me  to  my  face 
that  I  was  getting  childish.  What  would  Silas  say  ?  But 
I'll  never  tell  him  that.  I  would  like  to  go  at  once." 

Alas,  there  , was  no  help  for  it.  Cynthia  must  confess. 
If  only  Jack  had  not  been  there! 

She  rose  from  the  step  where  she  had  been  sitting,  and 
standing  in  front  of  her  little  grandaunt  she  spoke  very 
rapidly. 

"  You  are  right,  and  so  is  Mrs.  Parker.  You  weren't  here, 
but  I  dressed  up  and  went  to  see  her.  I  pretended  I  was 
you.  I  found  your  other  false — I  mean  your  new  hair. 
You  left  it  in  the  drawer.  I  looked  just  like  you,  anil  we 
thought  it  would  be  such  fun.  I'm  awfully  sorry,  Aunt 
Betsey,  indeed  I  am.  It  wasn't  such  great  fun,  after  all." 

At  first  Miss  Betsey  was  speechless.  Then  she  rose  in 
extreme  wrath. 

"  Cynthy  Franklin,  it  is  more  than  time  you  had  a  mo- 
ther. I  never  supposed  you  could  be  so — impertinent ;  yes, 
impertinent!  Made  yourself  look  like  me,  indeed,  and  go- 
ing to  my  most  intimate  friend !  Poor  Mrs.  Parker.  There's 
no  knowing  what  she  might  have  said,  thinking  it  was  I. 
And  I  telling  her  to-day  she  was  out  of  her  mind,  and  vari- 
ous nthcr  things  I'm  distressed  to  think  of.  Why,  Cyntliy .'" 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  sorry,"  cried  Cynthia,  bursting  into  tears. 
"Do  forgive  me,  Aunt  Betsey." 

"  I  am  not  ready  to  forgive  you  just  yet,  and  whether  I 
ever  will  or  not  remains  to  be  proved.  I  am  disappointed 
in  you  all.  Edith  going  and  shutting  herself  up  when  I 
come,  because  she  doesn't  want  a  step -mother,  and  you 
making  fun  of  an  aged  aunt  —  not  so  very  aged  either. 
Why,  when  Silas  hears  this  I  just  dread  to  think  what  he'll 
say.  I  am  going  home  at  once,  Jack.  You  are  the  only 
well-behaved  one  among  them.  Y'ou  may  drive  me  to  the 
train." 

"Oh,  Aunt  Betsey,  not  to-day!     Please  don't  go." 

"I  couldn't  answer  for  my  tongue  if  I  staid  here  to- 
night. I  had  best  go  home  and  think  it  out.  When  I 
remember  all  I  said  to  Maria  Parker,  and  all  she  said  tome, 
I'm  about  crazy,  just  as  she  said  I  was." 

And  presently  she  drove  away,  sitting  very  stitt'  and  very 
erect  in  the  old  buggy  that  had  held  her  prototype  two 
weeks  before,  and  Cynthia  was  left  in  tears,  with  one  more 
calamity  added  to  her  already  burdened  soul. 

\Vhy  had  she  ever  played  a  practical  joke  ?  If  she  lived 
a  hundred  years  she  never  wonld  again. 

Edith  heard  the  news  of  Aunt  Betsey's  sudden  departure 
in  silence,  and  Cynthia  received  no  sympathy  from  her. 
And  very  soon  it  was  temporarily  forgotten  in  prepara- 
tions for  the  advent  of  the  bride. 

The  day  came  at  last,  a  beautiful  one  in  June.  The 
house  was  filled  with  lovely  flowers  which  Cynthia  had 
arranged — Edith  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  it — and 


the  supper-table  was  decked  with  the  finest  China  and 
the  old  silver  service  and  candelabra  of  their  great-grand- 
mother. 

The  servants,  who  had  lived  with  them  so  long,  could 
scarcely  do  their  work.  They  peered  from  the  kitchen 
windotvs  for  a  first  sight  of  their  new  mistress,  and  won- 
dered what  she  would  be  like. 

"These  are  sorry  times," said  Mary  Ann,  the  old  cook,  as 
she  wiped  her  eyes  with  the  corner  of  her  apron. 

Outside  the  place  had  never  looked  so  peacefully  lovely. 
It  was  late,  and  the  afternoon  sun  cast  long  shadows  from 
the  few  trees  on  the  lawn.  In  the  distance  the  cows  were 
heard  lowing  at  milking-time.  At  one  spot  the  river  could 
be  seen  glinting  through  the  trees,  and  June  roses  filled  the 
air  with  fragrance. 

All  was  to  the  outward  eye  just  as  it  had  always  been, 
summer  after  summer,  since  the  Franklins  could  remember, 
and  yet  how  different  it  really  was. 

Jack  had  gone  to  the  station  to  meet  the  travellers. 
Edith,  Cynthia,  Janet,  and  Willy  were  waiting  on  the 
porch,  all  in  their  nicest  clothes.  The  children  had  been 
bribed  to  keep  their  hands  clean,  and  up  to  this  moment 
they  were  immaculate.  Ben  and  Chester  lay  at  full  length 
on  the  banking  in  front  of  the  house;  they  alone  did  not 
share  the  excitement. 

The  sound  of  wheels  was  heard. 

"They  are  coming,"  whispered  Cynthia. 

As  for  Edith,  she  was  voiceless. 

And  then  the  carriage  emerged  from  the  trees. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


STORIES   IN   AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

BY    EIENRIETTA   CHRISTIAN  WRIGHT. 
NATHANIEL   HAWTHORNE. 

IN  the  old  seaport  town  of  Salem,  with  its  quaint  houses 
with  their  carved  doorways  and  many  windows,  with 
its  pretty  rose  gardens,  its  beautiful  overshadowing  elms, 
its  dingy  court-house  and  celebrated  town  pump,  Haw- 
thorne passed  his  early  life,  his  picturesque  surroundings 
forming  a  suitable  setting  to  the  picture  we  may  call  up 
of  the  handsome  imaginative  boy  whose  early  impressions 
were  afterward  to  crystallize,  into  the  most  beautiful  art 
that  America  has  yet  known.  Behind  the  town  stood  old 
Witch  Hill,  grim  and  ghastly  with  the  memories  of  the 
witches  who  had  been  hanged  there  in  colonial  times.  In 
front  spread  the  sea,  a  golden  argosy  of  promise,  whose 
wharves  and  store-rooms  held  priceless  stores  of  merchan- 
dise. 

Hawthorne's  boyhood  was  much  like  that  of  any  other  boy 
in  Salem  town.  He  went  to  school  and  to  church,  loved 
the  sea,  and  prophesied  that  ho  would  go  away  on  it  some 
day  and  never  return,  was  fond  of  reading,  and  was  not 
averse  to  a  good  fight  with  any  of  his  school-fellows  who 
had,  as  he  expressed  it,  "a  quarrelsome  disposition."  He 
was  a  healthy,  robust  lad,  and  life  seemed  a  very  good  thing 
to  him,  whether  he  was  roaming  the  streets  of  Salem,  sit- 
ting idly  on  the  wharves,  or  at  home  stretched  on  the  floor 
reading  one  of  his  favorite  authors.  As  a  rule  all  boys  who 
have  become  writers  have  liked  the  same  books,  and  Haw- 
thorne was  no  exception.  When  reading,  he  was  living  in 
the  magic  world  of  Shakespeare  and  Milton.  Spen.-cr,  Frois- 
sart,  and  Pilgrim's  Progress.  This  last  was  a  great  and 
special  favorite  with  him,  its  lofty  and  beautiful  spirit  car- 
rying his  soul  with  it  into  those  spiritual  regions  which 
the  child  mind  reverences  without  understanding. 

For  one  year  of  his  boyhood  he  was  supremely  happy  in 
the  life  of  the  wild  regions  of  Sebago  Lake,  Maine,  where  the 
family  moved  for  a  time.  Here,  he  says,  he  lived  the  life  of 
a  bird  of  the  air,  with  no  restraint,  and  in  absolute  supreme 
freedom.  In  the  summer  he  would  take  his  gun  and  spend 
days  in  the  forest,  shooting,  fishing,  and  doing  whatever 
prompted  his  vagabond  spirit  at  the  moment.  In  the 
winter  he  would  follow  the  hunters  through  the  snow,  or 
skate  till  midnight  alone  upon  the  frozen  lake,  with  only 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


(he  shadows  of  tbe  hills  t,o  keep  liirn  company,  and  some- 
times passing  the  remainder  of  the  night  in  a  solitary  log 
cabin,  whose  hearth  would  blaze  with  the  burning  trunks 
of  I  he  fallen  evergreens. 

II,.  entered  Bowdoin  in  1821,  and  had  among  his  fellow- 
studeuts  Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow,  Franklin  Pierce 
afterward   President    of  the    United    States,  and  several 
others  who  distinguished  themselves  in  later  lite.     L,on 
rfterward  Hawthorne  recalls  his  days  at,  Bowdoin  as  among 
',!„•   happiest  of  his  life,  and  in  writing  to  one  of  bis  old 
college  friends  speaks  of  the  charm  that  lingers  around  the 
memory  of  the  place,  where  he  gathered  blueberries  in  study 
hours,  watched  the  great  logs  drifting  down  from  the  lum- 
bering districts  above  along  the  current  of  tbe  Androscog- 
„  ,„  fished  in  the  forest  streams,  and  shot  pigeons  and  squir- 
rels at  odd  hours  which  ought  to  have  been  devoted  t 
classics.  , 

After  leaviu^  Bowdoin,  Hawthorne  returned  to  Salem, 
where  he  passed  the  next  twelve  years  of  bis  life,  and  dur- 
in.r  which  he  must  have  marked  out  authorship  as  his  pro- 
fession, as  he  attempted  nothing  else.  Here  he  produced, 
from  time  to  time,  stories  and  sketches  which  found  their 
way  to  the  periodicals  of  tbe  day,  and  which  won  for  him 
a  reputation  among  other  American  writers.  But  it  is  re- 
markable that  the  years  which  a  man  devotes  usually  t< 
tbe  best  work  of  his  life  were  spent  by  Hawthorne  m  a 
contented  half-dream  of  what  he  meant  to  accomplish  later 
on;  for  exquisite  as  is  some  of  the  work  produced  at  this 
time,  it  never  would  have  won  for  the  author  the  highest 
place  in  American  literature.  Tbese  stories  and  sketches 
were  collected  later  on,  and  published  un/ler  the  titles 
Tirk-i'-Totd  Tales  and  Snow  Image.  They  are  full  oi  the 
grace  and  beauty  of  Hawthorne's  style,  but  in  speaking  of 
them  Hawthorne  himself  says  that  there  is  in  this  result 
of  twelve  years  little  to  show  for  its  thought  and  industry. 
But  whatever  may  have  been  the  cause  of  delay,  the  prom- 
ise of  his  genius  was  fulfilled  at  last.  In  IsSO,  when  Haw- 
thorue  was  forty -six  years  old,  appeared  his  first  great 
romance.  In  writing  this  book  Hawthorne  had  chosen  for 
bis  subject  a  picture  of  old  Puritan  times  in  New  England, 
and  out  of  the  tarnished  records  of  the  past  be  created  a 
work  of  art  of  marvellous  and  imperishable  beauty. 

In  the  days  of  which  he  wrote  a  Puritan  town  or  village 
was  exactly  like  a  large  family  bound  together  by  mutual 
interests,  in  which  tbe  acts  of  each  life  were  regarded 
as  affecting  the  whole  community.  In  this  novel  Haw- 
thorne imprisoned  forever  tbe  spirit  of  colonial  New  Eng- 
land, with  all  its  struggles, hopes,  and  fears;  and  tbe  con- 
science-driven Puritan,  who  lived  in  the  new  generation 
only  in  public  records  and  church  histories,  was  lifted  into 
the  realm  of  art. 

In  Hawthorne's  day  this  grim  figure,  stalking  in  the 
midst  of  Indian  fights,  village  pillories,  town  meetings, 
witch-burnings,  and  church  councils,  was  already  a  mem- 
ory. He  had  drifted  into  tbe  past  with  his  steeple-crowned 
bat  and  bis  matchlock.  He  had  left  the  pleasant  New 
England  farm-lands  with  their  pastures  and  meadows,  hills 
and  valleys  and  wild-pine  groves,  and  lurked  like  a  ghost 


ONE    OF   THE    BOY'S    FAVORITE    OCCUPATIONS. 


NATHANIEL    HAWTHORNE. 

among  tbe  old  church-yards  and  court-houses  where  his 
deeds  were  recorded. 

Hawthorne  brought  him  back  to  life,  rehabilitated  him  in 
his  old  garments,  set  him  in  the  midst  of  his  fellow-elders 
in  tbe  church,  and  gave  him  a  perfect  carnival  of  trials  and 
worries  for  conscience'  sake.  He  made  the  old  Puritan  live 
anew,  and  never  again  can  his  memory  become  dim.  It  is 
embalmed  for  all  time  by  the  cunning  art  of  this  master- 
hand, 

This  first  romance,  published  under  the  title  T/ie  Scarlet 
Letter,  revealed  both  to  Hawthorne  himself  and  the  world 
outside  the  transcendent  power  of  his  genius. 

Hawthorne,  when  the  work  was  first  finished,  was  in  a 
desperate  frame  of  mind,  because  of  the  little  popularity 
his  other  books  had  acquired,  and  told  his  publisher,  who 
saw  the  first  germ  of  the  work,  that  be  did  not  know 
whether  tbe  story  was  very  good  or  very  bad.  The  pub- 
lisher, however,  perceived  at  once  tbe  unusual  quality  of 
the  work,  prevailed  upon  Hawthorne  to  finish  it  immedi- 
ately, and  brought  it  out  one  year  from  that  time,  and  the 
public,  which  had  become  familiar  with  Hawthorne  as  a 
writer  of  short  stories,  now  saw  that  it  had  been  entertain- 
ing a  genius  unawares, 

Hawthorne's  next  work,  Tin-  //»««•  uf  tin  Si  ri-n  UabJcx,  is 
a  story  of  the  New  England  of  his  own  day.  Through  its 
pages  flit  the  contrasting  figures  that  one  might  find  there 
and  nowhere  else.  The  old  spinster  of  ancient  family  who 
is  obliged  in  her  latter  years  to  open  a  toy  and  ginger-bread 
shop,  and  who  never  forgets  the  time  when  the  house  with 
seven  gables  was  a  mansion  whose  hospitality  was  honored 
by  all.  is  a  pathetic  picture  of  disappointed  hope  and 
broken-down  fortune  So  also  her  brother,  who  was  im- 
prisoned under  a  false  charge  for  twenty  years,  and  who  is 
obliged  in  his  old  age  to  lean  upon  his  sister  for  support. 
The  other  characters  are  alike  true  to  life— a  life  that  has 
almost  disappeared  now  in  the  changes  of  the  half-century 
since  its  scenes  were  made  the  inspiration  of  Ila«  (home's 
romance. 

Tin1  HIIIIXI  i if  tin-  .Vri  //  (litlili-x  was  followed  by  two  beau- 
tiful volumes  for  children:  Tin  H'mider-Houk,  in  which 
the  stories  of  the  Greek  myths  are  retold,  and  Tanglewood 
Tales. 


124 


HARPER'S   EOUND   TABLE 


lu  Tin-  Wonder-Book  Haw- 
thorne writes  as  if  lie  were  a 
cliihl  himself,  so  delicious  is 
the  charm  that  lie  weaves 
around  these  old,  old  tales. 
Not  content  with  the  myths, 
he  created  little  incidents  and 
impossible  characters,  which 
^liinre  in  ami  out  with  elfin 
fascination.  One  feels  that 
these  were  the  very  stories 
that  were  told  by  the  ceu- 
taurs,  fairies,  aud  satyrs  them- 
selves in  the  shadows  of  those 
old  Grecian  forests.  Here  we 
learn  that  King  Midas  not 
ouly  had  his  palace  turned  to 
gold,  but  that  his  own  little 
daughter  Marigold,  a  fancy  of 
Hawthorne's  own,  was  also 
converted  iuto  the  same  shin- 
ing metal.  We  are  told,  too, 
the  secrets  of  many  a  hero 
and  god  of  this  realm  of  fancy 
which  had  been  unsuspected 
by  any  other  historian  of  their 
deeds.  No  child  in  reading 
The  Wonder-Book  would  doubt 
for  a  moment  that  Hawthorne 
had  obtained  the  stories  first 
hand  from  the  living  charac- 
ters, and  would  easily  be- 
lieve that  he  had  hobuobbed  many  a  moonlit  night  with 
Pan  and  Bacchus  aud  other  sylvan  deities  iu  their  vine- 
covered  grottos  by  the  famed  rivers  of  Greece.  This  dainty 
ethereal  touch  of  Hawthorne  appears  especially  in  alibis 
work  for  children.  It  is  as  if  he  understood  and  entered 
into  that  mystery  which  ever  surrounds  child  life  aud  sets 
it  sacredly  apart.  It  is  the  same  quality,  nearly,  which 
gives  distinction  to  his  fourth  great  iiovel,  in  which  he  is 
called  upon  to  deal  with  the  elusive  character  of  a  man 
who  is  supposed  to  be  a  descendant  of  the  old  fauns.  We 
feel  that  this  creation,  which  is  named  Douatello,  from  his 
resemblance  to  the  celebrated  statue  of  the  Marble  Fauu 
by  that  sculptor,  is  not  wholly  human, aud  although  he  has 
human  interests  and  feelings,  Hawthorne  is  always  a  mas- 
ter iu  treating  such  a  subject  as  this.  He  makes  Donatello 
ashamed  of  his  pointed  ears,  though  his  spirit  is  as  wild 
and  untamed  as  that  of  his  crude  ancestors.  In  this  book  — 
which  takes  its  name  from  the  statue — The  Mitrble  FUHII, 
there  is  a  description  of  a  scene  where  Douatello,  who  is 


t 


AT    BROOK    FARM. 


THE    OLD    MANSE. 


by  title  an  Italian  count, joins  iu  a  peasant  dance  around 
one  of  the  public  fountains.  Aud  so  vividly  is  his  liulf- 
hmnaii  nature  brought  out  that  one  feels  as  if  Hawthorne 
must  have  witnessed  somewhere  the  mad  revels  of  the  ver- 
itable fauns  and  satyrs  in  the  days  of  their  life  upon  the 
earth.  In  the  whole  development  of  this  story  Hawthorne 
shows  the  same  subtle  sympathy  with  natures  so  far  out 
of  the  commonplace  that  they  seem  to  belong  to  another 
world.  The  mystery  of  such  souls  having  the  same  charm 
for  him  as  the  secrets  of  the  earth  and  air  have  for  the 
scientist  and  philosopher. 

The  book  coming  between  Tlie  House  of  the  Keren  Guiles 
aud  Tin-  J/iicfc/c  Fiiint  is  called  Tlir  lilitlierlale  Hiimtn/ri.  It 
is  founded  partly  upon  a  period  of  Hawthorne's  life  wheu 
he  became  a  member  of  a  community  which  hoped  to  im- 
prove the  world  by  showing  that  to  live  healthily,  manual 
labor  must  be  combined  with  intellectual  pursuits,  anil 
that  self-interest  and  all  differences  in  rank  could  only  be 
injurious  to  a  country.  This  little  society  of  reformers 

lived  in  a  suburb  of  Boston, 
and  called  their  association 
Brook  Farm.  Each  member 
was  supposed  to  perform 
some  manual  labor  on  the 
farm  or  iu  the  house  each 
day,  although  hours  were  set 
aside  for  study  and  intellec- 
tual work.  Here  Hawthorne 
ploughed  the  fields  like  a 
farmer  boy  in  the  daytime. 
and  in  the  evening  joined 
in  the  amusements,  or  sat 
apart  while  the  other  mem- 
bers talked  about  art  and 
literature  and  science, 
danced,  sang,  or  read  Shake- 
speare aloud. 

>> of  the  cleverest  men 

and  women  of  New  England 
became  members  of  this  com- 
munity, the  rules  of  which 
obliged  the  men  to  wear  plaid 
blouses  and  rough  straw  hats, 
and  The  women  to  content 
themselves  with  plain  calico 
gowns. 


725 


HAKPER'S   SOUND   TABLE 


This  company  of  serious-minded  men  arid /women,  who 
tried  to  solve  a  great  problem  by  leading  the  lives  of  Aca- 
dian shepherds,  at  length  dispersed,  each  one  going  back 
iuto  the  world  aud  working  on  as  bravely  as  if  the  exper- 
iment had  been  a  great  success.  The  record  of  the  life 
and  experiences  of  Brook  Farm  are  shadowed  forth  in  The 
lllilhaliilf  HoiHtince,  although  it  is  not  by  any  means  a  lit- 
eral narrative  of  its  existence. 

Hawthorne's  early  married  life  was  spent  at  Coucord, 
near  Boston,  in  a  quaint  old  dwelling  called  the  Manse, 
and  as  all  his  work  partakes  of  the  personal  flavor  of  his 
own  life,  so  his  existence  here  is  recorded  in  a  delightful 
series  of  essays  called  Mosses  from  an  Old  JJinme.  Here 
we  have  a  description  of  the  old  house  itself  and  of  the 
author's  family  life,  of  the  kitchen-garden  and  apple  or- 
chards, of  the  meadows  and  woods,  and  of  his  friendship 
with  that  lover  of  nature,  Henry  Thoreau,  whose  writings 
form  a  valuable  contribution  to  American  literature.  The 
Mtisxi-xfriini  <ni  old  Mnusf  must  ever  be  famous  as  the  his- 
tory of  the  quiet  hours  of  the  greatest  American  man  of 
letters.  They  are  full  of  Hawthorne's  own  personality, 
and  reveal,  more  than  any  other  of  his  books,  the  depth  and 
purity  of  his  poetic  and  rarely  gifted  nature. 

In  1853  Hawthorne  was  appointed  American  Consul  at 
Liverpool  by  his  old  friend  and  school-mate  Franklin  1'ierce, 
then  President  of  the  United  States.  He  remained  abroad 
seven  years,  spending  the  last  four  on  the  continent.  The 
results  of  this  experience  are  found  in  the  celebrated  Hiirlih- 
Faun,  published  in  Europe  under  the  title  Transformation. 
It  was  written  in  Rome,  and  it  is  interesting  to  know  that 
the  story  was  partly  suggested  to  Hawthorne  by  an  old 
villa  near  Florence  which  he  occupied  with  his  family. 
This  old  villa  possessed  a  moss-covered  tower, "  haunted," 
as  Hawthorne  said  in  a  letter  to  a  friend,  "by  owls  and  by 
the  ghost  of  a  monk  who  was  confined  there  in  the  thir- 
teenth century,  previous  to  being  burnt  at  the  stake  in  the 
principal  square  of  Florence."  He  also  states  in  the  same 
letter  that  he  meant  to  put  the  old  castle  bodily  in  a  ro- 
mance that  was  then  in  his  head,  and  he  carried  out  this 
threat  by  making  the  villa  the  old  family  castle  of  Doua- 
tello. 

After  Hawthorne  returned  to  America  he  began  two 
other  novels,  one  founded  upon  the  old  legeud  of  the  elixir 
of  life.  This  story  was  probably  suggested  to  him  by  Tho- 
ivaii,  who  spoke  of  the  house  in  which  Hawthorne  lived  at 
Concord,  after  leaving  the  old  Manse,  as  having  been  the 
abode,  a  century  or  two  before,  of  a  man  who  believed  that 
he  should  never  die.  This  subject  was  a  charming  one  for 
Hawthorne's  peculiar  genius,  but  the  story,  with  another — 
the  liiilllnr  Romance — was  never  completed,  the  death  of 
Hawthorne  in  1864  leaving  the  work  unfinished. 


Thin  Department  is  conducted  in  tlie  interest  of  A 
be  pleased  tu  answer  am-  question  on  the  subject  i 
address  Editor  Camera  Club  Department. 


Pbotnsrrupliere,  and  tl.r-  K.IU.T  will 
s  possible     Correspondents  should 


HOW   TO   DEVELOP   CLOUD  PICTURES. 

PICTURES  taken  simply  of  clouds,  without  special  at- 
tention to  the  landscape,  should  be  developed  very 
slowly  in  order  to  bring  out  all  the  soft  shadows,  which  are 
lost  if  the  development  is  hurried. 

Where  clouds  and  landscape,  have  been  taken  in  one  pic- 
ture, the  printing  quality  of  the  negative  may  beouade  uni- 
form by  careful  development  of  the  plate. 

Place  the  plate  in  a  rather  weak  developer,  and  as  soon 
as  the  outlines  of  the  landscape  begin  to  appear  take  it 
out  and  place  in  a  dish  of  clean  water  so  as  to  arrest  the 
development.  I'onr  off  the  developer,  put  the  plate  bad;  in 
the  tray,  and  tini.-li  the  plate  with  brush  development.  To 
do  this  take  a  soft  camel's-hair  brush  or  a  small  wad  of 


surgeon's  cotton,  dip  iuto  the  developer,  aud  brush  over 
the  part  of  the  plate  which  develops  more  slowly,  which 
will  be  the  landscape.  As  soon  as  this  part  is  nearly  de- 
veloped flood  the  plate  with  a  weak  solution  of  developer, 
increasing  it  iu  strength  till  the  sky  is  fully  developed. 
Brush  development  requires  a  careful  hand,  but,  like  any 
other  part  of  photography,  becomes  easy  by  repeated  trials. 

Another  way  of  developing  one  part  of  the  plate  at  a 
time  is  to  take  the  plate  from  the  tray  as  soon  as  the  out- 
lines appear;  turn  off  the  developer,  and  wash  the  plate 
Put  it  back  in  the  tray,  aud  tip  the  tray  so  that  the  sky 
will  be  out  of  the  developer,  turn  iu  the  developer,  and  rock 
the  tray  gently  to  and  fro,  but  do  not  allow  any  of  the  de- 
veloper to  touch  the  sky  until  the  shadows  in  the  landscape 
are  well  out. 

When  the  shadows  are  nearly  or  quite  developed  flood 
the  whole  plate  with  the  developer  The  sky  will  develop 
very  quickly,  and  if  the  process  is  carefully  watched  a  fine 
even-printing  negative  will  be  the  result.  This  plan  of 
development  is  most  successful  where  the  horizon-line  is 
not  too  much  broken. 

Having  once  succeeded  iu  catching  the  clouds,  one  will 
never  be  quite  satisfied  with  a  landscape  picture  which  has 
a  perfectly  clear  sky. 

WE  DEVOTE  A  LITTLE  of  our  space  this  week  to  tell  the 
Camera  Club  something  about  two  publications  which  have 
beeu  sent  to  the  editor  for  inspection,  and  which  are  the 
work  of  some  of  the  members  of  our  club. 

The  first  is  entitled  the  focus,  a  magazine  issued  by  the 
Niepee  Corresponding  Club,  and  published  by  Sir  Knight 
Arthur  F.  Atkinson,  of  Sacramento,  California. 

The  literary  matter  is  typewritten,  aud  the  illustrations 
are,  with  one  exception,  original  photographs  by  members 
of  the  Chapter.  The  first  illustration  is  a  fine  platinum 
print  of  the  first-prize  landscape  picture  which  was  pub- 
lished in  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  March  26,1895.  The 
first  article,  entitled  "Rural  Photography,"  is  a  most  amus- 
ing account  of  one  J.  Focus  Snapschotte's  attempt  to  take 
pictures  in  the  country.  The  pen  ami-ink  sketch  of  "Si- 
las "  does  great  credit  to  the  artist,  who  we  suspect  is  the 
publisher  of  the  magazine,  as  the  initials  A.  F.  A.  are  the 
same 

The  other  articles  are  part  of  a  continued  story,  a  de- 
scription of  the  prize  landscape,  an  account  of  the  capital 
of  California,  and  matters  connected  with  the  club.  The 
photographs  do  great  credit  to  the  members,  and  the 
whole  magazine  is  very  nicely  arranged  and  embellished. 

The  second  magazine  is  entitled  Hints,  and  is  published 
by  Sir  Knight  George  D.  Galloway  and  Sir  Knight  George 
Johnson,  Jpn.,  of  Eau  Claire,  Wisconsin. 

As  its  name  indicates,  it  is  intended  to  help  the  amateur 
to  do  better  work.  Its  object  is  stated  at  the  beginning: 
"  This  is  a  practical  periodical,  and  we  kuow  all  who  see  it 
will  say  so  too.  From  all  the  prints  that  are  here  exhibit- 
ed you  will  get  liinta,  aud  you  will  notice  that  your  work 
will  improve  steadily  in  all  respects." 

This  magazine  is  also  illustrated  with  original  photo- 
graphs, among  which  we  notice  one  which  also  appeared  iu 
the  Camera  Club  Department  a  short  time  ago.  It  is  by 
Sir  Knight  Andrew  Phillips,  of  Nunda,  New  York,  and  is  eu- 
titled  ••  Knights  and  Ladies  of  the  Camera  Club." 

Both  of  these  publications  cannot  fail  to  be  helpful  to 
those  members  who  have  the  privilege  of  examining  them, 
for  one  is  sure  to  learn  something  by  "exchanging  ex- 
periences." The  Chapters  which  issue  these  magazines 
have  reason  to  feel  very  proud  of  them. 

A  ooiiEESpONiiENT  who  signs  herself  "Sweet  Marie"  asks:  1.  How  to 
prepare  the  best  anil  cheapest  developer  2.  How  to  make  sensitive  pa- 
per. 3.  How  to  prepare  a  polishing  solution  for  ferrotype  plates.  4. 
How  to  make  a  ruby  lamp.  5.  What  is  stronger  water  of  ammonia.  6 
What  is  bromide  of  ammonia. 

As  there  are  almost  as  many  formulas  for  developers  as  there  are  ama- 
teur photographers,  it  would  be  quite  impossible  to  say  which  one  is  the 
cheapest  and  best.  Sir  Knight  William  C  Davids,  of  Rutherford,  New 
Jersey,  sends  the  following  formula,  which  he  recommends  very  highly. 
We  shall  publish  in  our  papers  for  beginners  several  formulas  for  devel. 
oping  solutions,  with  prices  of  chemicals. 

Hydroquinon  /viv^-r.—Sodiiim  sulphite,  460  grains;  sodium  carbon- 
ate, 960  grains ;  hydroqiiinon,  9C  grains ;  water,  16  ounces 


7-26 


HAKPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


I.  Mix  and  filter  before  using.  In  No.  786  will  be  found  a  simple  devel- 
oper for  instantaneous  pictures.  2.  Directions  for  preparing  sensitive 
paper  will  be  found  in  Nos.  786  and  803.  3.  Directions  for  polishing 
ferrotype  plates  will  be  found  in  Nos.  797  and  805.  4.  A  ruby  light  for 
dark-room  work  may  be  made  by  taking  a  wooden  starch-box,  cutting  a 
square  hole  in  the  cover,  and  pasting  two  thicknesses  of  red  fabric  over 
the  opening.  A  hole  must  be  made  in  one  end  of  the  box— which  answers 
for  the  top  of  the  lantern — to  allow  for  ventilation.  This  must  be  shield- 
ed so  as  to  prevent  the  escape  of  actinic  rays.  This  may  be  clone  by 
pieces  of  tin  bent  so  that  air  can  enter,  but  no  white  light  escape.  A 
candle  should  be  used  with  this  style  of  lantern.  5.  Ammonia  in  its  pure 
state  is  a  gas  which  combines  readily  with  water, water  taking  npof  the  gas 
five  hundred  times  its  own  volume.  This  is  liquid  ammonhi,  or  stronger 
water  of  ammonia.  By  diluting  it  with  water  it  becomes  the  spirits  of 
hartshorn,  or  ammonia  water.  6.  Bromide  of  ammonia  is  formed  in  the 
simplest  manner  by  the  addition  of  bromine  to  water  of  ammonia.  It  is 
very  useful  in  photographic  work.  It  gives  grent  sensitiveness  to  gelatine 
and  collodion  emulsions — combined  with  pyro  for  a  developer  it  prevents 
fog— and  is  employed  in  the  preparation  of  sensitive  papers. 


This  Department  is  conducted  in  the  interest  of  Girls  ftnd  Yonns  Women,  and  the  Eiiit-r  will 
be  pleased  to  answer  any  question  on  the  subject  so  fur  as  possible.  Correspondents  should 
address  Editor. 

LILLIE  M came  to  see  me  yesterday,  and  after  she 
had  gone,  Maria  G ,  who  was  putting  a  new  braid 

011  my  second-best  gown,  said: 

"That  Miss  Lillie  uses  very  nice  perfumery.  It's  so  faint 
and  tine,  nut  anything  you  can  smell  a  long  way  off,  but 
something  which  makes  you  think  of  roses  or  violets  when 
she  passes  you  on  the  street.  How  does  she  manage  it?" 

Maria  G likes  perfumes,  but  does  not  know  how  to 

use  them. 

"Not  by  putting  cologne  on  her  handkerchief,"  I  an- 
swered, decidedly.  "Nobody  should  carry  about  scents 
poured  on  their  garments."  I  had  to  say  this. 

Perfumes  are  used  sparingly  by  elegant  people,  yet  a 
touch,  a  vague  sense  of  fragrance,  does  add  something  of 
daintiness  to  a  girl's  toilette.  It  is  right  for  you  to  have 
perfumes  about  you  if  you  love  them. 

FKESH  rose-leaves  thrown  into  your  bureau  drawers  and 
scattered  in  the  boxes  where  you  keep  your  laces  and  hand- 
kerchiefs, and  sprigs  of  lavender  or  lemon  verbena  left  there 
to  dry  will  impart  a  pleasant  sweetness  to  whatever  lies 
among  them.  Orris-root  powder  in  little  sachet  bags  of 
China  silk,  or  strewn  lightly  between  folds  of  tissue-paper, 
will  give  to  your  clothing  in  closet  or  wardrobe  a  delight- 
ful faint  odor  of  violet.  If  yon  use  delicate  soap  with  a 
sweet  clean  perfume,  not  of  musk  or  anything  strong  and 
pronounced,  and  put  a  few  drops  of  alcohol  or  ammonia  in 
the  water  when  you  bathe,  you  need  not  be  afraid  of  any 
unfavorable  comment  on  your  daintiness.  Perfect  cleanli- 
ness is  always  dainty.  Soil  and  stain,  dust  and  dirt,  are 
never  anything  but  repulsive. 

ROSE-LEAVES  pulled  from  the  perfect  flower  and  laid  in 
your  box  of  note-paper  when  they  are  fresh  will  dry  there, 
and  insure  your  sending  to  your  friends  notes  which  will 
associate  you  with  fragrance.  There  is  an  exquisite  per- 
fume in  dried  roses. 

How  do  you  seal  your  letters,  by-the-way  ?  I  hope  you 
have  at  hand  a  bit  of  sponge  and  a  tiny  glass  of  water  with 
which  to  moisten  the  mucilage  on  the  flap  of  your  envelope. 
Better  still  is  a  little  glass  cylinder  in  a  glass  jar,  a  very 
ornamental  and  thoroughly  clean  affair,  which  can  be  pro- 
cured at  any  stationer's.  The  glass  jar  holds  water.  You 
turn  the  cylinder,  and  on  its  wet  surface  place  your  en- 
velope. Postage  stamps  may  be  moistened  in  the  same 
•way. 

WHEN  friends  call,  on  these  very  sultry  days,  you  offer 
them  fans,  do  you  not,  and,  if  they  wish  it,  a  glass  of  cold 
water  or  lemonade?  Palm-leaf  or  Japanese  fans  should  be 


in  every  room  in  profusion  during  the  summer  solstice. 
When  fans  are  broken  at  the  edges  renew  them  by  a  ribbon 
binding,  and  tie  a  jaunty  bow  on  the  handle.  "Very  few 
things  should  be  thrown  aside  as  useless.  While  an  article 
can  be  mended  or  renovated  it  is  worth  keeping,  and  a 
thrifty  person  never  discards  a  household  implement  of 
any  kind  until  she  is  convinced  that  it  is  worn  out. 

RIBBON  plays  an  important  part  in  decoration.  A  bow 
on  the  corner  of  mamma's  sewing-chair,  on  the  dressing- 
glass  which  hangs  over  the  table,  on  the  little  birthday 
package  you  send  your  friend,  gives  each  a  sort,  of  gala 
look.  The  plainest  furniture  in  the  plainest  bedroom  may 
be  brightened  and  made  attractive  by  good  taste,  a  few 
yards  of  cheap  netting  or  lace,  and  the  judicious  use  of 
ribbon.  Clever  fingers  can  accomplish  wonders  with  very 
little  money. 

A  GUJL  showed  me  one  day  a  beantiful  sewing -chair, 
white  and  gold  as  to  frame  -  work,  and  cushioned  with  a 
lovely  chintz,  a  white  ground  thickly  sprinkled  with  daisies. 

"There!"  she  said.  "Mamma  gave  me  permission  to  use 
anything  I  could  find  in  our  attic,  and  I  hunted  around 
till  I  came  across  this  chair.  Such  a  fright!  It  was  dingy 
and  broken,  and  fit  for  nothing  but  firewood.  Look  at  it 
now.  Two  coats  of  white  paint,  some  gilding,  and  this 
lovely  cushion,  and  then  this  ravishing  frill  and  box  of  yel- 
low satin  ribbon  !  Isn't  it  a  triumph  ?" 

I  said,  very  sincerely,  that  I  thought  it  was. 

BERTHA  wishes  me  to  tell  her  why  lemonade  is  not  al- 
ways the  rich  refreshing  drink  it  should  be.  Well,  Ber- 
tha, everybody  does  not  know  how  to  make  lemonade.  I 
squeeze  my  lemons  in  a  glass  lemon-squeezer,  mix  in  my 
granulated  sugar  with  a  lavish  hand,  and  add  the  thinly 
pared  rind  of  a  lemon,  dropping  it  in  in  circular  strips.  On 
this  I  pour  boiling  water,  setting  it  by  to  cool,  and,  when 
cold,  putting  it  away  in  the  refrigerator.  Then  when 
served  I  add  a  strawberry,  or  a  bit  of  sliced  orange  or 
banana,  and  some  pounded  ice,  and  the  lemonade  is  de- 
licious. 


/ 


WHIPPOORWILL. 

UNSEEN  in  the  thicket  a  lone  little  bird 
Cries  over  and  over  the  sorrowful  word, 
Till  the  children,  whose  sweet  lisping  prayers  have  been 

said. 

Turn  over,  half  waking,  and  call  from  their  bed, 
"Do  make  that  bird  stop  calling  down  from  the  hill 
His  mournful  old  story,  Whip,  whip,  oh!  poor  Will." 

What  could  Will  have  done  in  the  days  long  ago 

That  this  bird's  great-grandfather  hated  him  so? 

Did  he  rifle  a  nest,  did  he  climb  up  a  tree, 

Did  he  meddle  where  he  had  no  business  to  be  ? — 

When  we  find  out,  dear  children,  what  'twas  Katy  did, 

The  secret   with  those  funny  wood  gossips  hid. 

We  are  likely,  and  not  before  then,  to  discover 

The  rune  that  the  poor  little  songster  runs  over, 

Who,  hour  by  hour,  up  there  on  the  hill. 

Calls  mournfully,  urgently,  Oh!  whip  poor  Will. 


MODERN   WHALING. 

IT  is  natural  enough  that  the  Norwegians  should  be  the 
most  expert  people  in  capturing  whales.  They  live  in 
their  cold  country  up  near  the  best  whaling-grounds  in  the 
world,  except,  perhaps,  the  regions  about  the  northern  part 
of  Alaska.  For  centuries  the  old  Norsemen  have  been  good 
whalers  and  famous  at  throwing  the  harpoon,  but  it  was 


727 


HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE 


THE  MODERN  HARPOON  AND  WHALE  BOAT. 


left  for  a  famous,  perhaps  tbe  most  famous,  whaler  the 
world  has  known  to  discover  a  weapon  which  made  the  old 
hand-thrown  harpoon  a  hack  number.  The  man  was  a 
Norwegian  called  Svend  Foyn,  and  an  account  of  his  life 
would  make  an  interesting  and  exciting  story  of  adveu- 
I  inv.s,  escapes,  dangers,  and  finally  riches. 

Old  Sveud.  who  died  not  long  ago  at  an  advanced  age, 
was  a  cabin-hoy  when  he  was  eleven  years  old, and  did  not 
have  enough  money  to  keep  him  ashore  a  month.  He  used 
to  sail  in  different  kinds  of  vessels  in  his  early  days,  keep- 
ing his  eyes  open,  and  watching  to  learn  what  there  was 
for  a  cabin-boy  to  learn.  This  was  in  1S20.  Gradually, as 
he  grew  older,  he  began  to  save  a  few  krone  here  and  there, 
and  when  he  came  ashore  after  a  long  trip  he  would  take 
as  much  of  his  wages  as  he  could  possibly  spare  and  put 
them  in  the  bank  at  home  in  Jonsberg.  But  it  was  slow 
work,  and  he  was  little  more  than  a  cabin-boy  iu  1845,  ex- 
cept that  he  was  thirty-six  years  old  and  had  a  neat  little 
sum  in  the  bank.  Then  the  idea  came  to  him  1o  buy  a 
little  vessel  of  his  own,  and  try  to  make  for  himself  the 
profits  he  saw  others  making  out  of  his  own  and  other  men's 
services. 

He  scraped  together  all  he  hail  or  could  raise,  and  bought 
a  brig,  and  in  a  very  short  time  he  had  made  a  big  catch  of 
seals  in  the  north,  and  had  $'20,000  in  the  bank,  besides  the 
brig  in  the  wa.ter.  Sveud  seems  to  have  had  all  the  shrewd- 
ness for  which  Norwegians  have  long  been  famous,  and 
much  of  the  daring  and  self-reliance  of  the  same  great  race. 
For  he  started  iu  1863,  with  a  little  steamer  which  he  had 
bought,  to  the  whaling- grounds,  and  tried  to  harpoon 
whales. 

This  did  uot  seem  to  succeed  very  well,  and  he  made  up 
liis  mind  that  spearing  whales  with  a  harpoon  thrown  by 
the  hand  of  man  was  a  doubtful  thing.  He  went  to  work, 
HiiTefore,  to  think  of  something  more,  powerful  and  more 
'(it. i in  iu  its  aim  than  a  mail's  arm,  with  the  result  that  he 
invented  a  harpoon  which  was  fired  from  a  gun,  and  which 
carried  along  with  it  a  shell'  that  exploded  inside  the 
\\  half's  vitals  and  almost  invariably  killed  it  at  once. 
This  harpoon-gnu  is  now  used  all  over  the  world,  and  has 
made  whaling  a  wonderfully  profitable  business. 

The  gun  is  placed  in  the  bows  of  small  steamers  built 
especially  for  the  purpose,  and  is  aimed  and  fired  much  as 
any  other  gun.  When  a  whale  is  sighted  the  craft  is  steer- 
ed iu  its  direction,  and  moves  silently  up  behind  the  big 
monster  as  he  lies  on  the  water  taking  long  breaths  or  rest- 
ing. When  the  how  is  within  about  twenty  or  thirty  yards 


of  the  whale  the  gunner  takes 
careful  aim  at  his  most  vital  parts, 
and  fires  the  harpoon  and  shell 
combination,  which  is,  of  course, 
attached  to  the  vessel  by  a  long 
line,  just  as  in  the  case  of  the  old 
harpoon.  The  spear  goes  deep 
into  the  whale,  but  the  moment 
he  rushes  forward  or  turns  flukes 
he  tightens  the  line,  and  the 
end  of  the  spear  is  therefore  pull- 
ed out  behind.  This  acts  on  the 
flukes  of  the  harpoon  in  such  a 
way  that  they  are  pulled  out  and 
catch  in  the  flesh  of  the  whale, 
as  shown  iu  the  accompanying 
illustration,  and  he  cannot  there- 
t'ciif  get  away. 

But  besides  this,  the  flukes,  in 
thrusting  themselves  out,  break  a 
little  glass  tube  inside  a  shell, 
which  can  be  seen  in  the  illustra- 
tion just  ahead  of  the  flukes.  In 
this  tube  there  is  an  acid,  and 
outside  the  tube  but  still  inside 
the  shell  is  another  acid.  When 
the  glass  is  broken  and  the  acid 
inside  mingles  with  the  other, 
they  chemically  form  a  third  sub- 
stance, which  is  a  remarkably  ex- 
plosive gas  that  expands  so  very 

quickly  and  to  such  enormous  proportions  that  the  shell 
bursts  and  explodes  inside  the  whale.  If  the  poor  beast  is 
not  killed  at  once,  he  is  so  severely  wounded  that  he  is  soon 
captured  and  hauled  alongside  the  steamer. 

Sometimes,  however,  the  harpoon  does  not  penetrate  far 
enough  or  fails  to  hit  a  vital  part,  and  then  the  explosion 
only  wounds  the  whale  slightly  and  angers  him.  At  such 
times  there  is  a  long  and  a  hard  chase  iu  which  the  steamer 
is  hauled  through  the  water  at  thirty  miles  an  hour  for  dif- 
ferent lengths  of  time.  Sveud  tells  a  story  of  being  so 
towed  by  au  euormous  whale  for  ten  hours  at  more  than 
twenty-eight  miles  an  hour  up  agaiust  a  hard  gale  of  wind. 
At  the  end  of  that  time,  as  the  whale  did  uot  seem  to  get 
tired,  and  as  the  steamer  still  held  together,  the  cable  at- 
tached to  the  harpoon  broke,  and  the  whale  disappeared. 

There  is  a  good  deal  of  danger  connected  with  this  mod- 
ern harpooning  other  than  the  usual  danger  of  the  dying 
"  flurry  "  of  the  whale  and  the  long  tows  that  may  result,  if 
he  is  not  killed  at  once.  This  danger  has  proved  very  real 
in  several  instances.  Occasionally,  for  one  of  a  thousand 
reasons,  the  shell  does  not  explode  in  the  whale.  Perhaps 
the  harpoon  does  not  pull  back  and  break  the  little  glass 
tube,  or  there  may  not  be  sufficient  strain  put  on  the  rope 
to  break  the  glass,  or  the  whale  may  be  killed  by  the  force 
of  the  harpoon  aloue,  and  not  live  long  enough  to  strug- 
gle and  explode  it.  In  such  cases,  and  they  have  oc- 
curred occasionally,  when  the  whale  is  hauled  alongside, 
the  harpoon,  in  being  withdrawn,  may  cause  the  shell  to 
explode,  when  a  great  deal  of  havoc  results.  On  more 
than  one  occasion  the  side  for  many  feet  of  the  steam- 
er's length  has  been  blown  out,  and  the  steamer,  of 
course,  sunk.  So  that  whaling  in  modern  days,  while  it 
may  be  more  paying,  is  not  by  any  means  less  dangerous 
than  formerly. 

This  kind  of  harpooning,  or  something  on  the  same  gen- 
eral plan,  is  coming  into  general  use,  and  the  result  is  that 
the  whale  is  fast  being  killed  oft',  for  the  big  fish  are  being 
demolished  iu  euormous  quantities  compared  with  what 
men  were  able  to  do  with  the  hand  harpoou  before  its  in- 
troduction. 

Svend  Foyn  made  an  immense  fortune  out  of  his  inven- 
tion, for  he  patented  it  iu  many  countries,  and  fitted  out  a 
fleet  of  small  steamers  himself;  and  then,  when  he  had  be- 
come rich,  he  did  what  most  men  would  not  have  done. 
He  founded  many  asylums,  hospitals,  education  and  chari- 
table institutions,  and  used  his  fortune  to  help  mankind  in 
general  and  his  own  countrymen  in  particular. 


728 


1INTERSCHOKASTIC 


•. 

- 


-••••*«-•••-»-•«•'«.•• 


AT  LAST  I  HAVE  THE  MUCH-NEEDED  space  to  answer  the 
m.iiiy  questions  that  have  been  pouring  in  for  some 
time  past,  and  also  the  discussion  of  a  number  of  interesting 
subjects  that  are  unfortunately  shut  ont  during  the  season 
of  active  interscholastic  contests.  These  will  resume  in 
August  with  the  tennis  tournament  at  Newport,  followed 
by  the  opening  of  the  football  season  everywhere. 

WHAT  I  WANT  TO  SPEAK  OF  principally  this  week  is 
'cross-country  running.  It  is  a  branch  of  sport  that  re- 
ceives far  too  little  attention  from  school  aud  college  ath- 
letes in  this  country,  yet  is  one  of'the  oldest,  simplest, 
and  healthiest  pastimes  on  the  calendar.  In  England  it 
has  been  popular  for  years,  where  there  are  a  number  of 
'cross -country  running  clubs  of  long  standing,  but  in 
America  we  have  known  the  sport  scarcely  twenty  years, 
and  not  very  intimately  at  that.  It  was  first  introduced 
to  us  in  1878  by  some  members  of  the  old  Harlem  Athletic 
Club,  their  first  paper-chase  being  held  on  Thanksgiving 
day  of  that  year.  The  American  Athletic  Club  then  took 
it  up,  and  later,  in  1883,  the  New  York  Athletic  Club  held  a 
race  for  the  individual  championship  of  the  United  States. 
The  sport  became  firmly  established  in  1887  with  the  or- 
ganization of  the  National  'Cross-Country  Association  of 
America.  This  is  a  very  brief  history  of  the  sport ;  but  it 
is  brief  of  necessity,  for  'cross-country  running  is  still  in  its 
youth. 

THEIIF.  ARE  TWO  KINDS  of 'cross-country  running — the 
paper-chase,  sometimes  called  hare  and  hounds,  and  the 
club  run  over  a  fixed  course.  In  the  former  there  should 
be  two"hares,"a"master  of  the  hounds,"and  two  "whips." 
The  hares  carry  a  bag  of  paper  torn  up  into  small  bits, 
and  it  is  their  duty  with  this  paper  to  lay  a  fair  aud  contin- 
uous trail  from  start  to  finish,  except  in  the  case  of  the  break 
for  home.  The  master  of  the  hounds  runs  with  the  pack, 
and  has  full  control  of  it.  In  other  words,  he  is  the  captain. 
He  sets  the  pace,  or,  if  he  chooses,  he  can  appoint  any  other 
hound  to  do  so.  It  is  usual  to  travel  no  faster  than  the 
slowest  runner  in  the  pack.  The  whips  are  chosen  from 
among  the  strongest  runners,  because  it  is  their  duty  to 
run  with  the  hounds,  and  to  keep  laggards  up  with  the 
bunch,  or  assist  those  who  become  seized  with  the  idea 
that  they  cannot  move  another  step.  These  five  men  are, 
so  to  speak,  the  officers  of  the  chase.  There  may  be  any 
number  of  hounds. 

THE  HARES  ARE  USUALLY  allowed  from  five  to  ten  min- 
utes' start  of  the  pack,  and  as  soon  as  they  get  out  of  sight 
they  begin  to  lay  the  trail.  They  choose  their  own  course, 
but,  they  are  not  allowed  to  double  on  their  track,  and  they 
must  themselves  surmount  all  obstacles  over  which  they 
lay  the  trail.  They  may  cross  fordable  streams  only,  aud 
must  always  run  within  hailing  distance  of  each  other. 
With  the  hounds  the  master  takes  the  lead,  following  the 
trail,  and  the  pack  is  supposed  to  keep  back  of  him  until 
the  break  for  home  is  ordered.  The  break  is  usually  made 
about  a  mile  from  home.  It-should  never  be  started  at  a 
greater  distance  than  that,  because  it  is  generally  a  hard 
sprint  all  the  way.  The  point  from  which  the  break  begins 
is  indicated,  as  a  rule,  by  the  hares'  dropping  the  bag  in 
which  they  have  been  carrying  the  paper,  or  by  scattering 
several  handfuls  of  paper  different  in  color  from  that  which 
has  been  used  to  lay  the  trail.  As  soon  as  the  break  is  or- 
dered the  pack  gives  up  all  formation,  aud  each  man  runs 
at  his  best  speed.  If  at  any  time  during  a  chase  the  pack 
catches  sight  of  the  hares,  it  may  not  make  directly  for 
them,  but  must  follow  the  trail,  thus  covering  the  same 


ground  gone  over  by  the  hares.  It  frequently  happens  in 
an  open  country  that  the  hounds  are  actually  within  a  few 
hundred  yards  of  the  hares,  but  perhaps  half  a  mile  behind 
them  along  the  trail.  Such  an  occurrence  always  adds  ex- 
citement to  a  run. 

IT  is  ADVISABLE  FOR  THE  HARES,  the  day  before  -a  run 
is  to  be  held,  to  get  together  and  lay  ont  in  a  general  way 
the  course  they  intend  to  follow.  A  great  deal  of  the  plea- 
sure and  interest,  as  well  as  the  benefit  in  a  run,  depends 
upon  this.  The  more  varied  the  course  the  less  tiresome 
will  be  the  chase.  Try  to  select  one  that  will  pass  over 
hills  and  through  woods,  with  occasionally  a  short  run  along 
a  flat  road  for  a  rest.  To  add  to  the  excitement,  lay  your 
course  across  a  few  streams  that  have  to  be  jumped  or 
waded.  If  a  runner  falls  into  the  water,  his  ducking  will 
do  him  no  harm  if  he  keeps  on  exercising  and  gets  a  good 
rub-down  when  he  reaches  home.  The  pace  going  up  hill 
should  never  be  more  rapid  than  a  slow  jog-trot ;  but  run- 
ning down,  take  advantage  of  the  incline  and  hit  the  pace 
up  as  fast  as  yon  choose.  This  will  make  up  for  all  the 
time  lost  in  the  ascent. 

THE  LENGTH  OF  THE  COURSE  should  be  determined  by 
the  strength  and  proficiency  of  the  runners.  It  is  bad  to 
attempt  to  indulge  in  long  runs  at  first.  I  would  advise 
those  who  intend  to  take  up  'cross-country  running  this 
fall — for  the  autumn  is  the  prime  season  for  that  sport — 
to  practise  trotting  a  mile  or  two  once  or  twice  a  week  be- 
tween now  and  then,  just  to  get  the  muscles  hardened^ 
Don't  do  too  much  running  in  the  summer,  because  the- 
air  is  not  so  bracing  then  and  the  heat  causes  evil  results.. 
Between  Thanksgiving  aud  Christmas,  after  the  football 
season,  when  there  is  nothing  particular  going  on,  before- 
the  snow  has  come,  and  while  the  roads  are  hard  and  tbe- 
hills  at  their  best,  then  is  the  time  for  'cross-country  run- 
ning. Then,  if  you  are  in  good  condition,  you  can  have  a. 
chase  of  five  or  eight  miles  that  will  make  you  feel  like  a 
fighting-cock,  aud  will  not  stiffen  you  up  the  next  day.  It 
is  far  better  to  make  two  or  three  short  runs  in  various, 
sections  each  week,  rather  than  to  make  one  long  run  once- 
a  week — a  long  run  that  leaves  you  aching  and  sore. 

THE  CLUB  RUN  is  VERY  much  like  the  paper-chase,  ex- 
cept that  no  scent  is  laid.  It  is  more  of  a  race  among  in- 
dividuals. A  course  is  laid  out  across  country  by  means- 
of  stakes  with  Hags  nailed  to  them,  and  the  runners  must 
follow  this  as  faithfully  as  they  would  a  paper  trail.  The- 
rnles  for  this  kind  of  run  are  the  same  as  for  the  chase.. 
There  are,  of  course,  a  great  many  minor  regulations  which, 
it  is  impossible  to  set  down  here  ;  but,  after  all,  unless  you 
want  to  go  into  the  sport  scientifically,  or  to  get  up  con- 
tests for  prizes,  the  fewer  rules  you  have  the  butter.  Let 
common-sense  be  your  guide,  aud  you  will  be  pretty  snre- 
to  come  out  all  right  in  the  end. 

As  TO  THE  OUTFIT  required  for  'cross-country  running,, 
little  needs  to  be  said.  Every  runner  has  his  own  views- 
about  what  suits  him  best.  In  runs  for  exercise,  knicker- 
bockers, stout  shoes,  heavy  woollen  stockings,  and  a  flannel! 
shirt  are  usually  worn.  The  stockings  should  be  heavy,  so- 
as  to  resist  being  torn  by  thorns  and  briars,  and  the  sleeves 
of  the  shirt  ought  to  be  of  a  good  length  for  the  same  rea- 
son. In  club  runs,  experts  who  are  ill  for  making  the 
greatest  possible  speed  sometimes  wear  light  shirts  with 
no  sleeves,  and  regular  running  shoes  without  any  stock- 
ings. They  reach  home  with  their  arms  and  legs  scratched, 
and  torn  from  contact  with  bushes  and  twigs,  aud  their, 


729 


HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE 


•knees  bruised  from  climbiug  over  stone  walls.  This  sort 
•of  tiling  may  be  all  vt-ry  well  for  those  who  make  labor  of 
their  recreation,  but  it  does  iiot  pay  for  the  amateur  sports- 
man. Be  contented  with  getting  exercise,  and  let  others 
look  after  the  records. 

WHILE  SPEAKING  OF  'CROSS-COUNTRY  RUNNING,  it  is  in- 
teresting to  recall  the  greatest  race  of  the  kind  that  ever 
occurred  iu  this  country.  It  was  in  the  early  days  of  tli<' 
sport,  at  the  time  when  those  athletic  clubs  which  had  teams 
of  'cross-country  runners  each  wanted  to  be  regarded  as  the 
best  exponent  of  the  sport.  The  race  was  a  club  run  over 
n  marked  course,  and  was  held  at  Fleetwood  Park.  The 
Suburban  Harriers  had  made  quite  a  reputation  for  them- 
selves as  'cross-country  runners,  their  star  man  being  E.  C. 
Carter.  The  Manhattan  Athletic  Club  also  had  a  team  of 
'cross-country  men,  and  felt  jealous  of  their  rival's  fame. 
They  therefore  brought  over  from  Ireland  a  famous  'cross- 
country runner,  who  has  since  become  well  known  iu 
American  sport,  Thomas  P.  Conneff,  and  challenged  the 
Suburban  Harriers.  They  felt  all  the  more  confident  of  vic- 
tory because  their  imported  runner  had  defeated  Carter  iu 
a  four-mile  race  in  Dublin  a  few  mouths  before. 

THE  RACE  STARTED  WITH  about  seventy  competitors,  but 
Carter  and  Connetf  soon  drew  out  of  the  buuch,  and  pulled 
rapidly  away  from  the  others.  The  spectators  paid  little 
attention  to  this  crowd;  their  interest  was  centred  in  the 
•duel  between  the  two  cracks.  Connetf  let  Carter  take  the 
lead  and  set  the  pace,  and  he  followed  along  at  his  heels. 
It  was  plain  that  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  dog  his  rival, 
and  to  depend  upon  a  burst  of  speed  at  the  finish  to  win. 
Carter,  on  the  other  haud,  seems  to  have  determined  to 
outrun  his  opponent  all  the  way,  if  possible — to  lead  him 
such  a  hard  chase  that  there  would  be  no  speed  left  in  him 
at  the  finish.  Over  the  entire  course  the  two  men  retained 
their  respective  distances  and  positions.  The  field  was 
rsoou  left  far  in  the  rear.  At.  last  they  entered  on  the  final 
mile  around  the  Fleetwood  track.  Both  men  looked  wea- 
ried by  their  hard  run,  but  it  was  impossible  to  judge  even 
~theu  which  must  win  in  the  end.  They  travelled  half- 
way around  the  track,  and  then  had  to  pass  behind  a  low 
liillock,  which  hid  them  from  the  sight  of  the  spectators. 
All  were  watching  with  the  greatest  excitement  the  spot 
where  the  track  again  came  into  view.  Carter  came  out 
•from  behind  the  elevatiou  trotting  doggedly  ou.  All  looked 
•for  Couneff,  but  Conneft'  was  not  to  be  seen.  The  gap  be- 
Jiind  Carter  widened,  and  Conneft"  came  not.  Ho  had  done 
his  best;  lint  he  was  not  strong  enough,  and  he  had  gone  to 
pieces.  He  had  dropped  to  the  ground  back  of  the  hill, 
iiuable  to  move  another  step. 

A  BIG  RACE,  SUCH  AS  THAT,  is  most  exciting;  but.  just  as 
much  sport  can  be  had  by  less  able  runners.  Several  of 
the  colleges,  notably  Harvard  and  Yale,  have  hare  and 
hounds  in  the  fall — although  I  do  not  believe  there  were 
ever  any  inter -collegiate  contests  in  that  branch  of  sport. 
If  the  schools  should  take  it  up  in  New  York  or  Boston,  the 
men  would  soon  tind  that  these  runs  out  into  the  country 
are  worth  the  trouble,  and  full  of  living  interest.  Fancy 
trotting  across  Long  Island,  or  through  Westchester,  or  up 
the  Hudson,  or  out  beyond  Cambridge,  if  you  live  in  Boston, 
anil  through  all  that  delightful  Massachusetts  country 
where  the  British  first  introduced 'cross-country  running 
about  120  years  ago. 

SINCE  WRITING  ABOUT  THE  SCORING  of  games  and  the 
arrangement  of  tennis  tournaments  last  week,  I  have  beeu 
asked  to  tell  of  a  good  system  of  drawings.  The  easiest 
and  fairest  way  is  to  write  the  name  of  every  player  on  a 
separate  slip  of  paper,  and  drop  these  into  a  hat.  Shake 
the  slips  well,  so  that  they  will  get  thoroughly  mixed,  then 
draw  them  out  one  by  one,  writ  ing  down  each  name  as  it  ap- 
pears. The  names,  of  course,  are  written  down  the  page  in 
a  column,  one  under  the  other.  If  there  are  several  men 
from  the  same  club  entered  for  the  tournament,  it  is  best 
to  make  the  drawing  from  several  hats,  placing  all  the 
names  of  players  from  one  club  in  the  same  hat.  This 
prevents  them  from  coming  together  iu  the  early  rounds  of 
ihe  tournament.  The  idea  is  to  arrange  the  players  in  the 


first  round  so  that  they  will  form  a  group  of  2,  4,8,  16,  or 
any  power  of  2.  When  there  is  an  odd  number  of  entries 
a  preliminary  round  must  be  introduced, iu  which  the  extra 
players  contest  for  a  place  in  the  first  round. 

THIS  ARRANGES  MATTERS  so  that  in  the  preliminary  round 
the  number  of  matches  played  will  always  equal  the  uum- 
berof  extra  entries.  Perhaps  the  following  diagram,  which 
was  gotten  up  by  Dr.  James  Dwight,  will  make  the  ques- 
tion a  little  more  clear: 


bye 
bye 


A 
B 

(J  I    

D  f   

E,  I 

F  |    ~ 

G  I    

H  f    - 
I         bye 
J         bye 
K        bye 


I 


>  Wins 


The  byes,  or  positions  iri  the  first  rouud,  are  usually  given 
to  those  whose  names  come  out  of  the  hat  first  and  last. 
If  the  number  of  byes  is  uneven,  the  odd  one  goes  to  the 
first. 

THE  INTEUSCHOLASTIC  TENNIS  TOURNAMENT  will  no  doubt 
be  held  this  year  during  the  first  week  of  the  single  cham- 
pionships at  Newport.  This  begins  Tuesday,  August  20th, 
and  so  the  school-players  will  no  doubt  get  on  to  the  courts 
about  Friday  or  Saturday  following.  From  present  in- 
dications the  Intel-scholastics  this  year  will  be  one  of  the 
important  features  of  tournament  week, and  better  players 
will  represent  the  schools  than  ever  before.  More  men 
have  already  entered  than  for  any  previous  Newport  inter- 
scholastic  tournament,  and  several  cracks  have  not  yet 
been  heard  from. 

AS  IN  MATTERS  OF  THIS  KIND  GENERALLY,  I  believe  that 
players  should  always  be  well  supported  by  their  adherents. 
As  many  scholars  as  possible  should  make  it  a  point  to  be 
at  Newport  when  the  tournament  is  going  on  to  cheer  the 
scholastic  players.  If  the  tennis  men  feel  that  their  own 
friends  and  classmates  are  as  much  interested  in  their  in- 
dividual work  as  if  they  were  a  football  team  or  a  baseball 
team,  they  will  surely  strive  harder  and  accomplish  more. 

IN  SPITE  OF  THE  FACT  THAT  we  are  iu  the  middle  of 
the  summer,  with  the  track-athletic  season  several  weeks 
behind  us,  the  interest  in  the  formation  of  a  geueral 
iuterscholastic  athletic  association  seems  to  be  just  as 
lively  as  ever.  I  judge  this  from  the.  number  of  letters 
I  receive  every  week.  Some  of  these  letters  are  short,  ap- 
proving the  scheme,  and  hoping  for  its  fulfilment;  others 
are  long,  suggesting  new  ideas,  or  taking  exception  to 
theories  that  have  already  been  advanced.  All  are  inter- 
esting, and  many  have  offered  valuable  suggestions.  I 
should  like  to  print  some  of  these  communications,  and,  no 
doubt,  some  time  during  the  coming  month  the  Department 
will  be  able  to  devote  some  space  to  that  purpose. 

THE  SUMMER-TIME  is  not  the  best  for  a  discussion  of  this 
kind,  and  for  that  reason  I  have  felt  somewhat  inclined  to 
let  the  matter  drop  for  the  present.  It  is  not  desirable  that 
it  should  drop  out  of  sight  altogether,  however — although 
there  is  scant  danger  of  that — and  so,  even  without  any 
hope  of  achieving  an  immediate  result,  I  shall  now  and  then 
take  up  the  subject.  A  number  of  readers  in  various  lo- 
calities have  sent  me  pictures  of  the  tracks  in  their  neigh- 
borhood, aud  descriptions  of  the  good  points  of  each.  It 
will  be  iuterestiug  when  all  counties  are  heard  from  to 
compare  notes,  and  see  what  suggestions  can  be  made  to 
the  committee  that  will  have  the  question  of  locality  to 
decide.  There  seems  to  be  a  growing  opinion  that  New 
York  would  be  the  best  city  iu  which  to  hold  the  meeting, 
not  only  on  account  of  the  good  tracks  available  here,  but 
because  there  are  better  facilities  for  transportation  to  and 
from  and  within  the  city,  and  also  because  there  are  more 
well-known  athletes  and  officials  here  whose  services  could 
be  availed  of.  To  my  great  surprise,  few  of  the  distant 
leagues  find  any  objection  to  travelling  any  number  of 
hours,  in  view  of  the  great  meet  there  would  be  after  they 
reached  their  destination.  THE  GRADUATE. 


730 


PRIZE  =  STORY      COMPETITION. 


THIRD=PRIZE    STORY. 

The    Beverley    Ghost.      By  Jenny   Mae    Blakeslee. 


I. 


THE  old  Beverley  ]>lace  was  haunted.    At 
least  tliat  is  what  everybody  said,  aud 
•when  "everybody"  says  a  thing   is  so   of 
course  it  is  so,  especially  iu  a  little  town 
like  Ellistou. 

There  certainly  was  a  singular  melan- 
choly air  brooding  over  this  old  mansion, 
although  it  had  been  deserted  only  for 
about  rive  years.  The  heir  to  the  property, 
young  Henry  Beverley,  had  gone  abroad  on 
tin-  death  of  his  father,  leaving  the  place 
unoccupied,  and  his  stay  had  beeu  unex- 
pectedly prolonged. 

The  house  was  a  stately  structure  of 
stone,  and  would  seem  a  safe  place  in  which 
to  store  the  valuables  that,  according  to  ru- 
mor, had  beeu  left  there — old  family  plate, 
rich  mahogany  furniture,  and  costly  bric-a- 
brac.  Reports  of  all  this  had  aroused  the 
spirit  of  covetousness  in  the  breasts  of  at 
least  the  less  scrupulous  of  the  neighboring 
villagers.  A  rumor,  however,  that  the  late 
Mr.  Beverley 's  shade  made  nightly  visita- 
tions to  guard  his  sou's  possessions  had 
probably  so  far  kept  away  these  would-be 
burglars,  if  such  existed. 

Farmer  Bagstoek  stood,  one  August  after- 
noon, in  the  doorway  of  Mr.  Smytlie's  little 
store — one  of  the  kind  that  keeps  the  whole 
range  of  necessities  from  muslin  to  mow- 
ing-machines. His  thin  sawlike  features 
wore  an  expectant  expression,  and  his  eyes 
were  lightened  by  a  look  of  cunning  and 
greed  as  he  occasionally  glanced  down  the 
road.  Farmer  Bagstock  was  not  rich  in 
this  world's  goods,  and  the  nature  of  his  ef- 
forts to  become  so  might,  it  is  feared,  dam- 
age his  prospects  in  the  next.  His  patient 
waiting  was  at  last  rewarded,  for  a  long 
lank  figure  presently  appeared  far  dowu  the 
street,  evidently  making  for  Mr.  Smythe's 
establishment. 

When  this  individual,  known  as  Hoke 
Siinpkius,  mounted  the  steps  the  farmer 
greeted  him  in  a  rather  surly  way. 

"Ben  waitin'  long  enough, I  should  think." 

"Couldn't  git  here  no  sooner,  'pon  my 
word,"  responded  Hoke,  apologetically. 

After  a  word  or  two  with  the  talkative 
storekeeper,Bagstock  bestowed  a  wink  upon 
his  friend,  aud  suggested  that  they  "  walk 
down  the  road  a  piece."  Hoke  complied, 
and  presently  they  left  the  highway  aud 
entered  a  small  piece  of  woodland.  Fol- 
lowing the  course  of  a  brook  for  some  dis- 
tance, they  reached  an  immense  oak-tree 
and  seated  themselves  underneath  it.  The 
surrounding  underbrush  and  the  oak's  thick 
truuk  concealed  them  from  the  view  of  any 
one  who  might  chance  to  pass  along  by  the 
stream. 

II. 

A  short  time  before  this,  James  Stokes, 
one  of  the  village  boys,  came  down  to  the 
brook  to  try  his  luck  at  trout-fishing..  The 
afternoon  was  sultry  and  rather  cloudy,  and 
it  was  probable  that  the  fish  would  bite,  if 
there  were  any  there.  But  these  contrary 
trout  evidently  turned  up  their  noses  at  his 
tempting  Hies,  and  at  last  he  gave  up  in 
despair.  But  Jimmy  would  not  relinquish 
all  hope  of  a  "  catch  "  yet,  so  he  wandered 
further  up  the  stream.  He  walked  quite 


noiselessly  for  fear  of  scaring  the  fish,  and 
at  last  halted  just  back  of  a  large  oak-tree. 
Before  he  had  had  time  to  cast  his  fly  Jim- 
my heard  the  sound  of  men's  voices  speak- 
ing in  low1  and  cautious  tones.  Now  he 
was  a  typical  small  boy,  .and  of  a  shrewd 
and  inquiring  turn  of  mind,  so  he  dropped 
quietly  down  ou  the  bank  and  listened, 
screening  himself  from  possible  observation 
by  getting  behind  a  large  stump.  Soon  he 
caught  a  sentence  which  made  him  hold  his 
breath  to  hear  more. 

"Waal,"  slowly  said  a  voice  which  he 
could  not  at  first  recognize,  "  the  only  thing 
is,  we'll  haf  ter  break  a  winder.  I  found 
everythin'  fastened  when  I  skirmished  round 
t'other  night." 

"It  'ud  make  an  awful  racket,  break  in' 
the  glass.  'Twould  be  better  to  take  a  pane 
out,  I  reckon,"  answered  the  other  man. 

Jimmy  was  quite  certain  that  this  speak- 
er was  Hoke  Simpkins. 

"Yaas,  it  might,"  said  the  other,  medita- 
tively ;  "that  big  winder  at  the  end  of  the 
hall." 

"Folks  say  there's  piles  o'  silver  and 
things  worth  a  heap  o'  money.  How  I'd 
like  to  get  holt  on  it!" 

And  Jimmy  knew  that  Farmer  Bagstock 
had  spOAi'ii. 

"Don't  see  why  we  can't  cut  out  a  pane 
right  under  the  ketch.  Then  we  c'u  raise 
the  winder  in  a  jiffy." 

"Waal,  it  might  do  that  way,"  answered 
Bagstoek.  "  What  d'  ye  say  to  next  Mon- 
day night  ?  That  ain't  too  soon,  be  it?" 

Hoke  said  he  thought  not. 

"Then,"  went  on  the  farmer,  "we  want 
dark  lanterns,  aud,"  with  a  chuckle,  "I 
don't  think  an  old  meal-bag  or  flour-sack 
'u'd  be  onhandy.  We  could  git  there  about 
nine,  cut  the  pane  aout,  then  go  off  fur  a 
spell,  fur  if  any  one  was  a-lookiu'  it  'u'd 
throw  'em  off  the  scent.  After  a  cousid'a- 
ble  space  we  could  sneak  back  and  git  in. 
Thar,  how's  that  for  a  scheme  ?"  he  finished, 
triumphantly. 

"Fine,"  said  Hoke,  admiringly.  But  he 
added,  rather  slowly,  "  Folks  say  old  Bever- 
ley's  spook's  around  there,  y'  know,  but  I 
ain't  afraid,  be  you  ?" 

"Spooks!"  laughed  Bagstock,  scornfully. 
"They  ain't  no  sech  thing.  Ef  there  was, 
they  couldn't  hurt  us." 


Both  were  rather  silent  for  a  moment, 
however,  after  this  brave  speech,  and  soon 
the  fanner  suggested  that  they  had  said 
enough  for  the  present,  aud  might  as  well 
move  on.  They  rose  to  leave  their  retreat, 
and  Jimmy  made  himself  as  small  as  possi- 
ble back  of  the  stump.  As  he  was  on  the 
other  side  of  the  brook  from  the  men,  they 
passed  by  without  seeing  him,  and  were 
presently  lost  to  his  view. 

Then  Jimmy  rose  to  his  feet,  shook  him- 
self, looked  around,  and  gave  vent  to  his 
feelings  by  a  long  whistle  and  the  exclama- 
tion, "  Jimiuy  Clirismus,  if  I  could  only — 

He  stopped  short,  seeming  to  remember 
that  "  discretion  is  the  better  part  of  valor," 
and  that  some  one  might  be  listening  to 
hear  what  lie  was  going  to  say.  So  he  only 
walked  away  very  slowly,  almost  forgetting 
to  pick  up  his  fishing-tackle  in  his  absorp- 
tion. On  arriving  home  he  laid  his  rod  on 
the  front  porch,  and  without  lingering  a 
moment,  dashed  across  the  lawn,  got  through  ( 
a  hole  in  the  fence,  and  then  raced  across 
lots  to  the  village  store.  He  encountered 
hi§  bosom  friend  Will  Smythe  in  front  of 
his  father's  establishment,  aud  greeted  him 
excitedly. 

"Hullo,  Bill!  I've  got  something  to  tell 
you.  Quick!  Come  over  to  the  orchard; 
I  can't  wait  a  minute." 

Full  of  curiosity  Bill  followed  Jimmy's 
lead,  and  they  were  soon  in  their  favorite 
haunt,  an  old  apple-tree. 

"Now, "said  Jimmy, "  wait  till  you  hear 
what  I  have  to  tell  you.  Whew!  It's  im- 
mense !" 

Billy  was  breathless  with  interest,  and 
Jim  unfolded  the  plot  he  had  heard.  Will 
became  as  excited  as  his  friend  could  wish, 
and  exclaimed  : 

"The  scoundrels!  Can't  we  head  them 
off?" 

"If  we  could  only  hit  on  something  with- 
out letting  any  one  know.  That  miserly 
Bagstock  !  Father  always  said  he  wouldn't 
trust  him  with  a  dime,  and  Hoke  Simpkins 
would  do  anything  Bagstock  told  him  to. 
He's  a  coward,  anyway." 

Billy  was  lost  in  thought.     Suddenly  he 

exclaimed:   "Hurrah!     I  have  it.     Just  the 

thing."     In  his  eagerness  he  nearly  fell  out 

of  the  tree.     When  he  had  managed  to  tell 

(Continued  on  pag€  733.) 


A-DVERTISTCMKNTS. 


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731 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Bicycle  route 
Fair  bicycle  road 
Railway  stahon. 


BICYCLING 


This  Department  is  conducted  i  i  the  interest  of  Bicyclers,  and  the  Editor  will  he  pleased  to- 
answer  any  question  on  the-  subject.  Our  maps  and  tours  contain  much  valuable  data  kindly 
supplied  from  ttie  official  maps  ami  road-books  of  the  Leairue  of  American  Wheelmen.  Recop- 
nizii'c  the  value  <•!  the  work  heinf:  done  by  the  L.  A.  W..  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to  furbish 
subscribers  with  membership  blanks  and  infonji'ttiou  so  far  as  possible. 

IN  No.  812  we  published  a  map  ot'Staten  Island,  showing 
tin'  run  across  the  Island  to  Totteuville.  It  was  a  route 
which  \vc  then  called  attention  to  as  a  good  short  ride 
within  the  reach  of  any  New-Yorker  for  a  Sunday  afler- 
noou  or  a  holiday  spin.  This  bicycle  route  from  St.  George's 
to  Tottenville  is  also,  however,  the  lirst  stage  in  a  run  to 
Philadelphia,  which  in  many  ways  is  as  pleasant,  a  tonr  as. 
any  one  in  the  vicinity  of  New  York  city  or  Philadelphia 
conld  well  take. 

THIS  MAP  this  week  takes  np  the  route  from  Tottenville 
and  carries  it  on  to  Trenton,  New1  Jersey,  a  distance  of 
thirty-five  or  thirty-six  miles.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  if  you 
are  planning  to  take  the  Philadelphia  tonr,  it  is  wise  to- 
make  a  night  stop  at  New  Brunswick  instead  of  Totten- 
ville. Then,  by  stopping  at  Trenton  the  next  night,  the 
third  day  will  bring  you  into  Philadelphia.  As  has  often 
been  said  in  this  Department, these  distances  are  not  for 
"scorchers"  or  old  and  long-distance  riders.  They  are  for 
people — young  people  especially — who  are  riding  for  the  fun 
of  ruling,  and  who  will  find  mnch  more  amusement  if  they 
take  the  runs  which  have  been  proved  to  be  the  best  in 
their  vicinity.  And,  by-the-way,  no  readers  need  be  angry 
because  the  maps  so  far  have  been  all  in  the  viciuity  of 
New  York.  As  time  goes  on  it  is  our  purpose  to  treat  the 
neighborhood  of  Philadelphia  and  Boston  as  we  have  treat- 
ed New  York,  and  then  to  cover  territory  in  the  vicinity  of 
other  cities  also. 

Tins  Ki'N  TO  PHILADELPHIA  can  be  made  in  one  day  by 
a  good  man.  It  can  be  done  in  two  days  with  less  than 
fifty  miles  each  day ;  but  if  you  arc  wise,  and  if  yim  want 
to  see  the  country,  and  get  some  pleasure  out  of  the  ride, 
do  it  slowly  and  take  three  days.  Crossing  the  ferry  at  Tot- 
tenville, Stateu  Island,  you  run  out  of  Perth  Amboy  direct, 
bearing  right  in  a  diagonal  fashion  one  block.  This  will 
bring  you  in  a  short  time  to  the  Metuchen  road,  and  this 
should  lie  kept  to  for  about  four  miles  beyond  Perth  Am- 
boy. Here,  instead  of  keeping  on  into  Metuchcn,you  will 
save  distance  and  get  a  better  road  by  turning  to  the  left 
to  Woodville,  and  then  running  through  Bonhamton,  Pis- 
cataway,  into  New  Brunswick.  This  is  about  twenty-six 
miles  from  St.  George's,  and  a  good  place  to  stop  for  the 
night  is  the  Palmer  House.  Running  out  of  New  Bruns- 
wick yon  cross  the  bridge,  and,  passing  out  Albany  Street, 
turn  to  the  left  and  go  through  Franklin  Park,  Bunker 
Hill,  into  Kingston  ;  thence,  crossing  the  bridge,  keep  to  the 
left,  and  run  on  into  Princeton,  where  a  pleasant  stop  may 
be  made  at  the  Princeton  Inn.  From  New  Brunswick  to 
Kingston  is  largely  down  hill  and  is  thirteen  miles,  and 
from  thence  to  Priucetou  is  three  miles  further. 

TKOM  PRINCETON  TO  TRENTON  is  thirteen  miles,  the 
road  being  of  clay  and  shale,  and  pretty  good  if  not  too 
wet.  Keeping  to  the  road  running  along  in  front  of  the 
Princeton  Inn  the  rider  runs  into  Lawreuceville,  about  five 
miles  out,  and  from  here  he  makes  direct  for  the  old  Tren- 
ton Turnpike.  Turning  left  into  this  his  road  is  straight 
to  Trenton,  a  distance  of  six  miles  from  Lan  reuceville  and 
twenty-nine  miles  from  New  Brunswick,  the  road  being  on 
the  whole  a  gentle  decline  all  the  way,  with  occasional 
small  but  no  bad  hills. 

NOTK.— Map  of  New  York  city  asphalted  streets  in  No.  809.  Map  of 
route  from  New  York  to  Tarrytown  in  No.  810.  New  York  to  Stamford, 
Connecticut,  in  No.  Sll.  New  York  lo  Stnten  Islaud  in  No.  812.  New 
Jersey  from  Hobokeu  to  Pine  Brook  in  No.  813.  Brooklyn  in  No.  814- 
Brooklyn  to  Babylon  in  No.  815.  Brooklyn  to  Northport  in  No.  816. 
Tarrytown  to  Poughkeepsie  in  No.  817.  Poughkeepsie  to  Hudson  in 
No.  SIS.  Hudson  to  Albany  in  No.  819. 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


(Continued  from  page  731.) 

his  plan  it  met  with  tivmetulons  applause 
from  Jimmy.  What  caiia-  of  Will's  bold  iu- 
spiratiou  remains  to  be  seen. 

III. 

Monday  evening  was  moonless,  just  the 
night  for  a  reckless  deed.  The  conspirators 
thought  that  they  were  especially  favored. 
By  nine  both  were  at  the  meeting-place, and 
repaired  in  silence  to  the  old  house.  The 
night  was  one  of  the  kind  that  ghosts  nsu- 
jilly  select  for  a  promenade,  and  this  thought 
may  have  occurred  to  the  minds  of  the 
fanner  and  Hoke.  Each  assured  himself 
that  such  an  idea,  was  nonsense,  but  just  the 
same  this  delicate  subject  was  not  mention- 
ed. 

The  window  being  found,  Bagstock  pro- 
ceeded to  pry  out  the  paue.  Then  both,  af- 
ter glancing  cautiously  about,  stole  away  to 
Simpkius's  house,  which  was  not  far  distant. 
It  was  fully  an  hour  before  they  returned 
.ami  viewed  the  window.  All  was  as  they 
liml  left  it,  aud  Bagstock  said,  in  a  hoarse 
whisper, 

"Now, then, you  climb  in  first." 

Hoke  drew  back  a  little.  The  house, 
somehow,  looked  unusually  dismal. 

"What,  you  ain't  afraid,  be  you?"  ejacu- 
lated the  farmer. 

Hoke  said.  "  Of  course  not,"  but  for  some 
unaccountable  reason  his  voice  shook  slight- 
ly. He  consented  to  be  boosted  up,  and  in- 
serting his  hand  in  the  opening,  easily  nn- 
<lid  the  catch  and  raised  the  lower  sash. 
Both  of  them  would  have  been  seized  with 
consternation  had  they  imagined  that  hut  a 
short  time  before  other  hands  than  their 
own  had  made  the  same  use  of  this  very 
window. 

Now,  Hoke  was  an  awkward  youth,  aud 
in  climbing  over  the  sill  his  foot  caught, 
which  very  shortly  deposited  him  on  the 
floor.  This  mishap  added  to  his  misgiv- 
ings, but  he  picked  himself  up  and  helped 
in  the  impatient  Bagstock.  They  were  now 
inside  the  walls  which  sheltered  the  coveted 
treasure.  What  to  do  next? 

With  the  aid  of  their  dark  lanterns  they 
groped  along  the  hall,  which  ran  from 
front  to  back,  as  in  most  old  houses  built  in 
the  colonial  style.  Poor  Hoke  found  his 
knees  beginning  to  shake  in  a  distressing 
manner.  Any  corner  might  suddenly  reveal 
something  to  strike  them  with  terror.  If 
he  had  not  discarded  his  hat  before  enter- 
ing it,  would  have  been  at  present  resting 
on  the  ends  of  his  abundant  crop  of  hair. 
He  was  obliged  to  catch  hold  of  the  fanner 
to  steady  himself,  which  called  forth  a 
growl  from  that  quarter,  fop  Bagstock  was 
having  all  he  could  do  to  stifle  some  little 
misgivings  of  his  own. 

"Where  the  dickeus,"  he  muttered,  ••  can 
the  thiugs — 

He  stopped  suddenly.  The  hall  was  wide 
as  well  as  long,  and  they  had  now  nearly 
reached  tin1  front  end.  At  one  side  stood  a 
large  heavy  chest,  suggestive  of  riches 
stored,  perhaps,  in  its  depths.  Near  it  was 
a  heap  of  furniture  and  rubbish.  Bagstock 
had  taken  a  step  forward,  aud  almost  had 
his  hand  on  the  chest,  when  his  lantern 
flashed  on  something.  This  "something" 
made  his  knees  shake  more,  his  hair  rise 
higher,  and  his  eyes  bulge  out  further  than 
Hoke's  ever  thought  of  doing.  Seated  on 


that  very  chest  was  an  object  in  white,  per- 
fectly motionless,  its  head  evidently  turned 
toward  the  men.  The  fanner  was  trans- 
fixed with  horror,  and  what  Hoke  was  un- 
dergoing at  that  moment  may  be  imagined 
but  not  described.  He  only  gave  vent  to  a 
kind  of  howl  and  dropped  with  a  thud  on 
the  floor.  Bagstock  looked  as  though  his 
shaky  knees  would  oblige  him  to  follow 
Hoke's  example,  when  suddenly  the  figure 
moved.  It  rose  slowly,  slowly,  to  its  full 
height,  raised  one  long  arm,  and  pointing  to 
the  chest,  said,  in  low,  blood-curdling  tones : 

"Yoiifb-r  lies  the  treasure.  Jtrtnirt  .'  Touch 
it  not,  <ir  //<'  <lii- .'" 

They  waited  to  hear  no  more.  Somehow 
they  reached  that  window  by  a  succession 
of  bumpings  and  scrapings,  and  finally,  with 
a  particularly  heavy  and  emphatic  thump, 
Hoke  found  himself  on  the  ground.  Before 
he  could  struggle  up  the  farmer  was  on  top 
of  him.  After  they  had  extricated  them- 
selves it  did  not  take  long  for  both  to  put  a 
good  half-mile  between  themselves  and  the 
haunted  house. 

A  rumor  that  two  men  had  attempted  to 
burglarize  the  Beverley  house, but  had  been 
nearly  frightened  out  of  their  wits  by  the 
famous  ghost,  aud  taken  themselves  oft'  in 
terror,  caused  much  excitement  in  the  vil- 
lage. The  names  of  the  two  men  no  one 
seemed  able  to  find  out,  but  Bill  Sniythe 
and  James  Stokes  had  many  a  laugh  in  pri- 
vate over  the  sheepish  look  which  the  faces 
of  Farmer  Bagstock  and  Hoke  Simpkins  al- 
ways wore  when  the  subject  of  the  burglary 
was  mentioned. 


YOUNG  MOTHERS 

should  early  lejiru  the  necessity  of  keeping  on  hand  a 
supply  of  Gail  Borden  Eagle  Brand  Condensed  Milk 
for  uiimni:  babies  as  well  as  for  general  cooking.  It 
has  stood  the  test  for  30  years,  and  its  value  is  recog- 
nized.— [Adv.  ] 


HOSIERY 

Ladies'   Knit 

Bicycle  Jackets 


Men's  Golf  Hose 


a 

NEW  YORK. 


Walter  Baler  i  Go.  Limited. 

The  Largest  Manufacturers  of 

PURE,  HIGH  GRADE 

COCOAS  and  CHOCOLATES 

,_    On  this  Continent,  have  received 

HIGHEST  AWARDS 

from  the  great 

Industrial  and  Food 

EXPOSITIONS 
IN   EUROPE  AND  AMERICA. 

Caution  :  man^TrmUtions 
of  the  labcla  and  wrappers  on  our 
goods,  coneumerB  should  mnkr  'ure 
that  our  place  of  manufacture, 
namely,  J>  or  Chester,  31  ;»*•- 
IB  printed  on  each  package. 


SOLD  BY  GROCERS  EVERYWHERE. 


WALTER  BAKER  &  CO.  LTD.  DORCHESTER,  MASS. 

OFFICIAL  ANNOUNCEMENT  <*"»;™i 

CILLOTT'S  PENS  ut  the  CHICAGO  hsrosmoN. 
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grindintr  which  leaves  tlu-  pens  free  from  defects.  The 
tempering  is  excellent  and  the  action  of  tho  finished 
pens  perfect."  (Signed)  FRANZ  VOGT, 

.H.  I.  KIMBALL.  IndividualJudge. 

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Song 

Collection- 


The  "Franklin  Square  Library " 
has  given  many  valuable  numbers, 
but  none  so  universally  attractive  as 
this.  Nowhere  do  we  know  of  an 
equally  useful  collection  of  School, 
Home,  Nursery,  and  Fireside  Songs 
and  Hymns  which  everybody  ought 
to  be  able  to  preserve,  and  which 
everybody  will1  be  able  to  enjoy. — 
Springfield  Journal. 

Price,  50  cents:  Cloth.  Si. op.  Full  contents  of 
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733 


HARPER'S   ROUND  TABLE 


Suggestions  for  that  Gala  Night. 

So  many  want  to  know  how  to  have  Hint  "Gala 
Evening"  ihat  we  print  the  directions. 

It  is  intended  for  out-of-doors — a  lawn  or  vacant 
lot.  II'  need  lie,  build  a  platform  16  by  20  feet,  but 
where  the  grass  is  smooth  this  may  uot  be  necessary. 
Get  evergreens  from  the  woods  for  "scenery,"  and 
use  two  pairs  of  portieres  sewed  together  fora  curtain. 
For  mnsic  use  an  upright  piauo,  if  nothing  better 
offers;  for  lights  use  lanterns— head  lights,  if  you  can 
get  them  ;  and  for  seats  borrow  benches  from  a  church 
or  hall,  or  they  may  easily  be  made  from  some  bor- 
rowed lumber. 

A  capital  programme  will  be  a  pantomime  and  a 
farce.  Nobody  has  anything  to  learn  in  the  former, 
so  if  yon  want  to  get  it  all  np  in  two  nights'  practice 
select  two  pantomimes.  Here  are  some  good  ones: 
"The  Mistletoe  Bough,"  to  be  had  of  French  &  Son, 
28  West  23d  Street,  New  York,  price  15  cents;  and 
"Aunt  Betsy,"  "  Priscilla,"  and  "Dresden  China," 
Harper  &  Brothers,  New  York,  price  5  cents  each.  If 
you  can  try  a  farce,  get  "A  Ticket  to  the  Circus  "  or 
"The  Tables  Turned,"  Harper  &  Brothers,  price  6 
cents  each,  or  "Who's  Who?"  "Turn  Him  Oul," 
"The  Delegate,"  "Quiet  Family,"  or  "  Bountiful  For- 
ever," price  15  cents  each,  to  be  had  of  French. 

An  ideal  programme  is  "The  Mistletoe  Bough," 
followed  by  either  "A  Ticket  to  the  Circus"  or 
"  Wlio's  Who  ? '  The  former  takes  eighteen  or 
twenty ;  the  latter  four.  A  good  way  is  to  send  for 
one  copy  of  several  farces  and  pantomimes,  then  read 
and  select  what  is  best  suited  to  your  needs. 

Sell  your  tickets  in  advance  at  25  cents  each.  When 
I  hey  are  presented,  give  a  small  blue  or  red  check, 
which  you  explain  is  good  fora  plate  of  cream  after 
the  performance.  Let  the  ice-cream  man  attend  to 
all  details,  and  you  cash  all  his  checks  next  day  at  5 
cents  each.  He  will  do  this,  and  your  guests  will  be 
satisfied. 

Do  not  fear  an  element  of  discord  from  the  neigh- 
borhood small  hoy  because  the  performance  IB  out-of- 
doors,  nor  need  you  fear  people  will  come  in  without 
paying  if  you  have  no  rope  stretched.  You  will  have 
no  trouble  from  these  sources.  The  thing  is  novel, 
being  out-of-doors.  There  is  no  rent  to  pay.  The 
ice-cream  to  be  had  free  will«draw  if  you  advertise  it. 
And,  by  confining  yonr  programme  to  pantomimes, 
yon  can  learn  all  in  two  evenings.  Even  farces  take 
little  longer,  and  you  cannot  fail  in  rendering  them. 

One  member  asks  if  Chapters  have  to  help  the 
School  Fund.  Our  Order  has  no  "  have  tos."  A  com- 
pany of  young  persons  might  give  the  "  Gala  Even- 
ing," present  a  small  sum  to  the  Fund  or  some  other 
charity,  and  with  the  balance  get  each  one  taking 
part  HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE  for  one  year.  But  of 
course  you  do  as  you  please  with  yonr  own.  The 
gala  evening  or  gala  afternoon  is  the  thing. 


Making  Small  Journals. 

The  Table  is  much  interested  in  amateur  jour- 
nalism, and  is  able  to  print  herewith  two  morsels 
that  may  be  of  benefit  to  all.  Ralph  T.  Hale  is  co- 
editor  with  F.  W.  Beale,  of  the  Amatmr  Collector, 
11%  Spring  Street,  Newburyport,  Mass.,  and  Ed- 
ward Lind  edits  the  Jug,  Box  633.  East  Oakland, 
Cal.,and  is  greatly  interested  in  the  National  Press 
Association.  Both  papers  are  models,  the  Table 
thinks,  of  what  play  journals  should  be.  Of  course 
Sir  Ralph  may  send  us  that  natural  history  morsel. 
He  writes : 

"  When  a  person  has  decided  to  publish  an  ama- 
teur paper,  he  first  prepares  a  'dummy'  showing 
the  size  of  his  pages  and  their  number,  the  number 
of  columns  on  a  page,  the  place  where  he  intends 
to  print  his  sub-heading  and  editorials,  and  the 
amount  of  space  he  intends  to  give  to  advertise- 
ments. Then  he  goes  round  among  his  friends 
and  asks  their  subscriptions,  and  likewise  solicits 
advertisements  from  his  business  acquaintances. 
Having  established  his  paper  on  a  comparatively 
firm  financial  basis,  he  next  proceeds  to  prepare 
copy  for  his  first  issue,  first  consulting  a  printer  as 
to  prices  which  he  should  pay  for  a  good  job. 
After  he  has  published  his  first  number  it  is  much 
easier  to  secure  subscriptions  and  advertisements, 
as  he  has  a  paper  to  show  to  doubtful  persons. 

"The  prices  for  printing  depend  largely  on  the 
quality  of  work  and  the  size  ;md  number  of  papers 
printed.  Printers  will  generally  print  five  hundred 
papers  at  about  the  same  price  as  that  asked  for 


one  hundred.  Remember  that  it  is  the  amount  of 
type  which  a  printer  has  to  set  which  decides  the 
price.  Sometimes  the  price  is  as  high  as  seven  or 
eight  dollars  per  hundred,  and  again  it  is  as  low  as 
two  dollars  and  a  half  for  five  hundred. 

"Of  course,  if  you.  are  lucky  enough  to  have  a 
press  of  your  own,  the  cost  of  au  amateur  paper  is 
not  so  large,  but  for  a  boy  busy  with  school-work 
it  pays  better  in  the  end  to  hire  the  greater  part 
of  his  printing  done.  The  size  of  an  amateur  paper 
is  one  of  the  most  important  points  to  be  consid- 
ered. It  should  not  be  too  large,  for  then  it  has 
an  overgrown  appearance,  nor  yet  too  small.  A 
medium  size  is  preferable.  Good  sizes  are  S  by  5)£ 
inches,  and  7  by  10  for  each  page.  I  am  very  much 
interested  in  botany,  and  would  like  to  correspond 
on  that  subject.  May  I  write  ngain  on  natural 
history?  RALPH  T.  HALE." 

As  there  are  amateur  papers,  there  are  also  ama- 
teur printers.  As  a  rule,  these  printers  do  good 
work  for  a  much  less  price  than  professional  print- 
ers charge.  Perhaps  the  cheapest  amateur  printer 
is  M.  R.  King,  of  Cobleskill,  N.  Y  Mr.  King  will 
print  500  copies  of  a  paper,  size  page  of  HARPER'S 
MAGAZINE,  for  $1  per  page.  The  National  Amateur 
Press  Association  convenes  at  Chicago  July  16-18. 
The  ticket  below  is  the  one  favored  most  by  the 
Pacific  coast:  For  President,  David  L.  Ilollub,  of 
San  Francisco  ;  for  First  Vice- President,  C.  W.  Kis- 
singer, of  Reading,  Pa. ;  for  Kecordiiig  Secretary, 
A.  E.  Barnard,  of  Chicago,  111. ;  for  Corresponding 
Secretary,  E.  A.  Hering,  of  Seattle,  Wash.  ;  for 
Treasurer,  Alson  Brubaker,  of  Fargo,  N.  D  ;  for 
Official  Editor,  Will  Hancock,  of  Fargo,  N.  D. ;  for 
Executive  Judges,  C.  R.  Burger,  Miss  E.  L.  Ilauck, 
and  J.  F.  Morton,  Jun. 

The  Pacific  coast  is  the  most  active  amateur 
centre  in  the  world.  There  are  thirty-four  ama- 
teur papers  in  San  Francisco.  Seattle  has  a  live 
amateur  press  club  of  thirl y  members.  I  shall  be 
glad  to  send  sample  copies  of  amateur  papers  and 
to  give  further  information.  EDWAHD  LIND. 


Answers  to  Kinks. 

No.  87.  —  Buoli-worm  —  Bookworm. 

No.  88.—  A  Study  in  Cats  :  1.  Cat-alogue.  2.  Cat- 
aclysm. 3.  Cat-amaran.  4.  Cat-fall.  5.  Cat-block. 
6  Cat-salt.  1.  Cat-achresis.  8.  Cat-erpillar.  9.  Cat- 
aract. 10.  Cat-ling.  11.  Cat-aplasm.  12.  Cat-e- 
chism.  13  Cat-afalque.  14.  Cat-acomb.  15.  Cat- 
o'-nine-tails.  16.  Cat-adupe.  17.  Cat-alepsy.  18.  Cat- 
sup. 19.  Cat-tie.  80.  Cat's-foot.  21.  Cat-acoustics. 
22.  Cat-aphonies.  23.  Cat-aphrect.  24.  Cat-echn- 
men.  25  Cat-silver.  2f>.  Cat-nip.  27.  Cat-apult. 
28  Cat-agmalic.  29.  Cat-enatiou.  30.  Cat  egory. 
31.  Cat-gut.  32.  Cat-kin. 


ibclpino 


s>    Ikinhs.   o 

No.  89.—  AN    ARBORET   FROM    THE    POEl'S. 

Foil  SPIIING-TIMK. 

1.  "Swelled  with  new  life  the  darkening  *  *  * 

on  high 

Prints  her  thick  buds  against  the  spotted 
sky." 

2.  "On  all  her  boughs  the  stately  ******** 

cleaves 

The  gummy  shroud  that  wraps  her  embryo 
leaves." 

3.  "Far  away  from  their  native  air 

The   *«***«    »*,,*    their  green   dress 

wear; 
And   *******    swing    their    long,  loose 

hair." 

4.  "The  *********  spread  their  palms  like 

holy  men  in  prayer." 

5.  "The  wild  *****-*,**,  waste  their  fra- 

grant stores 
In  leafy  islands  walled  with  madrepores 

And  lapped  in  Orient  seas, 
When  all  their  feathery  palms  toss,  plume- 

like,  in  the  breeze." 

6.  "Give  to  Northern  winds  the  »***-»*** 

oil  our  banner's  tattered  field." 

7.  "The  *****  —dreamy  Titans  roused  from 

sleep  — 

Answer  with  mighty  voices,  deep  on  deep 
Of  wakened  foliage  surging  like  a  sea." 

8.  "The  *»*»-*»***,  tall  and  bland, 

The  ancient  *  *  *  *,  austere  and  grand." 

9.  "The  *****  *'s  whistling  lashes,  wrung 

By  the  wild  winds  of  gusty  March." 

10.  "Take  what  she  gives,  her  *  *  *  *'s  tall  stem, 

Her  *  *  *  with  hanging  spray  ; 
She  wears  her  mountain  diadem 
Still  in  her  own  proud  way." 

11.  "Look  on  the  forests'  ancient  kings, 

The  ******  *'s  towering  pride." 
13.  "  O  *****  ,*-*,**.  O****»«,  -*,*«! 
How  faithful  are  thy  branches  ! 
Green  not  alone  in  summer-time, 
But  in  the  winter's  frost  and  rime  I" 


Fill  blanks  with  names  of  trees,  and  give  the 
authors. 

734 


The  Harry  Harper  Chapter,  of  Newtown,  Conn., 
gave  an  entertainment  the  other  evening  in  aid  of 
the  School  Fund.    It  scored  a  success,  of  course, 
though  at  this  writing  it  is  too  early  to  have  a  re- 
port of  the  proceeds.    The  Table  thanks  the  Chap- 
ter and  gives   the  programme,  that   others  may 
adapt  it  to  their  purposes.    The  Chapter  had  the 
help  of  an  older  person  in  Mr.  Andrews,  who  gave 
many  hints,  decided   hard  questions,  and  on   ihe 
programme  gave  a  talk  on  "Mother  Hnbbard." 
There  was  an  introduction  by  Curtis  Morris,  who 
told  about  Good  Will,  the  Order,  and  the  Chapter. 
A   solo   followed,  "Ten    Little   Nigger  Boys,"  (by  1 
Charlie  Jonas,  and  Katie  Houlihan  gave  a  recita-  ] 
tion.    Arthur  Plait  rendered  well  a  violin  solo,  ] 
and   the    entertainment    concluded   with  a  very! 
funny  farce,  The  Frorj  Hollow  Lyceum, 

*  *  * 

The  Order's  New  Patents. 

Late  applicants  for  Patents  in  the  Round  Table  , 
Order  are  asked  to  wait  a  few  days  for  responses.  I 
Patents  of  the  new  design  are  being  prepared  and 
will,  of  course,  be  sent  as  soon  as  possible. 

*  *  * 

More  About  Young  Journalists. 

Two  of  the  most  creditable  specimens  of  ama- 
teur journals  that  have  come  to  the  Table  in  a  long  1 
time  are  the  Club  Register,  51   Third  Av'e.,  Long  | 
Branch,  N.  J.,  and  the  Marklttonian,  Markleton,  Pa. 
The  latter,  published  by  Fred  G.  Patterson,  is  about 
as  neat  in  appearance  as  any  amateur  paper  we 
ever  saw.    He  wants  contributors,  and  will  send  a 
sample  free.    Harris  Reed.  Juu.,  president  of  the  j 
Nineteenth  Century  Club  (Chapter  604),  of  Phila- 
delphia, is  much  interested  in  the  Register.    This 
paper  wants  contributors,  and  the  Club  wants  mem- 
bers.   Sir  Harris's  address  is  1119  Mt.  Vernon  St. 

*  *  * 

Questions  an&  answers. 

W.  H.  LEGGETT.—  What  you  have  made  is  a  truss, 
not  slings  at  all.    Slings  are  chains  running  from  a 
mast-head  cap  down  through  the  hounds,  and  are 
used  to  support  a  lower  yard  which  is  fastened 
to  the  mast  by  a  truss,  and  is  not  intended  to  be  I 
raised  or  lowered.    A  yard  which  is  to  be  hoisted  i 
and  lowered  should  be  secured  to  the  mast  by  a  : 
parral  of  leather,  and  should   be  raised   by  lifts  \ 
and  halyards.    (2.)  Clew-lines  lead  from  the  deck 
through  a  clew-block  under  the  yard,  find  through  • 
the  clew-line  block  in  the  sail,  the  standing  part  I 
being  taken  between  the  head  of  the  sail  and  the  I 
yard,  and  made  fast  to  the  arm  of  the  truss.    (3.)  I 
Lead  the  braces  to  the  main-top.    (4.)  Your  dimen-   : 
sions  are  not  good,  unless  your  draught  is  to  be  in- 
creased by  a  heavy  lead  keel.    Your  proportion  of  I 
more  than  five  beams  to  the  length  is  bad.    She! 
ought   to   have  more  beam—  say,  sixteen  inches.  :j 
The  capstan  ought  to  be  on  the  forecastle-deck. 
The  dimensions  of  spars  are  good. 

FRANK  J.  SMYTH.  —  Snch  a  set  of  rules  as  you  ask  '( 
for  would  occupy  too  much  space  in  this  paper. 
The  racing  rules  of  the  American  Model  Yacht 
Club  were  printed  in  Forest  and  Stream  for  Novem- 
ber 24,  1894.    Send  ten  cents  and  postage  to  the  J 
office  of  that  paper,  318  Broadway,  and  get  a  copy. 

HERBERT  ARNOLD.—  Dimensions  of  a  good  dory 
would  be  sixteen  feet  long  on  the  bottom,  seven- 
teen feet  over  all.  three  feet  six  inches  wide  on  the 
bottom  amidships,  four  feet  eight  inches  wide  at 
the  gunwale  amidships,  and  two  feet  deep.  You 
could  not  have  a  safer  boat  in  any  waters. 


HAKPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


STAMPS 


Tins   Impertinent    is  ccimlnrteil    i 

lectors,  and  the  Editor  will  he  pleased  to  answer  any  question  ou 
these  subjects  so  far  as  possible.  CorrespoDdents  should  address  Editor 
Stamp  Department. 

QriTE  A  NUMBER  OF  inquiries  have  come 
to  me  as  to  \vli:it  is  "embossiug"  or  "grill- 


ing." Both  words  mean  the  same  thing  in 
philately.  Above  are  two  illustrations  from 
the  lri67-G8  stamps.  It  seems  at  one  time 
the  government  feared  that  cancelled  post- 
age-stamps could  be  used  a  second  time. 
They  therefore  adopted  (in  1867)  a  method 
of  impressing  or  embossing  ou  the  backs  of 
the  stamps  after  they  had  been  gummed  a 
series  of  small  squares,  each  square  having  a 
sharp  point.  The  idea  was  that  these  points 
or  squares  would  break  the  tibre  of  the  paper, 
so  that  the  gum  and  cancellation  ink  would 
go  right  through  the  stamp,  and  thus  make 
a  second  use  impossible.  At  first  the  entire 
stamp  was  grilled,  and  these  are  now  quite 
rare,  and  the  3c.-stamps  are  worth  about 
$20  used,  or  $25  unused.  This  was  soon 
given  up,  and  a  grill  measuring  13x16  mil- 
limeters was  used.  These  stamps  were  in 
turn  soou  discontinued,  and  are  now  scarce, 
tliis  3c. -stamp  is  worth  $5  used, §20  unused. 
The  grills  were  then  reduced  to  11x13  mm. 
and  Ux  13  mm.  Of  the  first  variety  of  grills 
the  1,  2,  3, 10, 12,  and  15c.  are  found.  Of  the 
latter  all  values  from  1  to  90c.  are  found. 
In  1869  the  new  issue  of  stamps  brought  a 
still  smaller  grill  into  use,  9i  x9imm.  Then 
in  1870  the  new  issue  had  a  grill  9  x  Hi  mm. 
The  1,2,  and  3c.  of  this  issue  are  common, 
but  all  the  other  values  are  rare,  especially 
the  12 c.  and  24c.,  which  are  worth  from  $25 
to  $35  each.  In  1871  a  grill,  frjx  1<H,  was 
used  on  the  1,  2,  and  3c.  only,  but  soon  dis- 
continued, and  since  then  no  U.  S.  stamps 
have  beeu  so  made.  Peru  used  the  same 
grills  on  some  stamps,  but  has  also  discon- 
tinued the  practice.  A  number  of  double 
grills  and  odd-sized  grills  are  kuown,  and 
are  much  sought  after  by  specialists. 

n.  M.  POYNTKK. — The  5-frauc  piece  1809,  France,  is 
Bold  by  dealers  at  $1. 

L.  A.  D.— The  1861  and  1868  U.  S.  stamps  are  printed 
from  the  same  dies  in  the  same  colors,  but  the  1S6S 
are  "grilled."  An  early  number  of  the  ROUND  TAIILK 
will  conta.n  illustrations  of  these  grills.  The  Costa 
Rica,  Honduras,  Salvador,  etc.,  unused,  are  probably 
remainders. 

F.  EDGHUTON.— Postmarks  have  no  value. 

J.  G. — The  quotation  was  on  one  million  assorted, 
and  the  vulue  depends  altogether  on  the  number  of 
varieties  in  each  lot.  Apply  to  any  dealer. 

HAROLD  SIMONPS. — The  stamps  are  part  of  the  "Ju- 
bilee" issue  of  New  South  Wales,  all  of  which  bear 
the  inscription,  "  One  Hundred  Years."  They  were 
issued  in  1888  to  commemorate  the  one-hundredth  an- 
niversary of  the  first  settlement  made  in  1788. 

F.  H.  L.— The  halt-dollar  without  rays  is  the  scarce 
one.  The  coins  mentioned  do  not  command  a  pre- 
mium. 


IVORY  5  GAP 


PURE 


At  all  grocery  stores  east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  two  sizes  of  Ivory  Soap- 
are  sold  ;  one  that  costs  five  cents  a  cake,  and  a  larger  size.  The  larger  cake  is  the 
more  convenient  and  economical  for  laundry  and  general  household  use.  If  your 
Grocer  is  out  of  it,  insist  on  his  getting  it  for  you. 


THE  PROCTER  &  GAMBLE  Co-  OIN-TI. 


EARN  A  TRICYCLE! 

We  wish  to  introtUiee  our 
Teas.  Spiffs. un«l  linking 
Powilc r.  Sell  ai  His.  and 
we  will  give  you  a  Fairy 
Tricycle  :  sell  26  Ibs.  for 
aSoliciSilvei  Wutfband 
Chiiin  ;  60  Ibs.  fora  Gold 
Watchaml  chain ;  75  Ibs. 
for  a  Bicycle ;  10  Ibs. 
for  a  Beautiful  (Jold 
Ring.  Express  prepaid 
11  r;ish  is  sent  for  goods. 
Write  lor  catalog  and 
On  ler  sheet. 

W.  G.  BAKER, 

SPRINGFIELD,  MASS. 


[CARD  PRINTERffffF 


GEND  for  Catalogue  of 
*J  the  Musical  liistru- 
meitt  you  think  of  buying. 
Violins  repaired  l»v  the 

Cremona  System.  C.  STORY, 
26  Central  St..  Boston.  Mass. 


Lour.     YOU  c 

pretty  type,  also  Indel 


ita  500  ofcrds  a 


_ 

it.     A  font  of 
Ink.  Type  HoM«r.  Pad* 
L-  ----     ,,,o.   Linen   Marker;   worth   81.  IK). 
usil.  .1  FREE  for  lOo.  stamps  for  poetic  oa 
z.  _  i    uuiit  and  lurfie  catalogue  of  lOw  Bargains. 
It.  1  1.  1  iLf-  n-,,1  1  &  Bro.  66  t'ortlandt  St.  N.T.  Cltj- 


Harper's  Catalogue, 

Thoroughly  revised,  classified,  and  in- 
dexed, will  be  sent  by  mail  to  any  ad- 
dress on  receipt  of  ten  cents. 


Reading  for  the  Vacation 

By  THOMAS  W.  KNOX 

THE  "BOY    TRAVELLERS"   SERIES 

Copiously  Illustrated.      Square  8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $3  oo  per  volume. 


ADVENTURES    OF    TWO    YOUTHS— 


IN  THE  LEVANT. 
IN  SOUTHERN  EUROPE. 
IN  CENTRAL  EUROPE. 
IN  NORTHERN  EUROPE. 
IN  GREAT  BRITAIN  AND 
IRELAND. 


IN  MEXICO. 

IN  AUSTRALASIA. 

ON  THE  CONGO. 

IN  THE  RUSSIAN  EMPIRE. 

IN  SOUTH  AMERICA. 


IN  CENTRAL  AFRICA. 

IN  EGYPT  AND  PALESTINE. 

IN  CEYLON  AND  INDIA. 

IN  SIAM  AND  JAVA. 

IN  JAPAN  AND  CHINA. 


OTHER    BOOKS    BY    COLONEL    KNOX: 

HUNTING  ADVENTURES   ON  LAND  AND   SEA 

2  vols.      Copiously  Illustrated.      Square  8vo,  Cloth, 
Ornamental,  $2  50  each. 

THE  YOUNG  NIMRODS  IN  NORTH  AMERICA.  -  -  THE  YOUNG  NIMRODS  AROUND  THE  WORLD. 


Published  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  New  York 

The  above  works  are  for  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  will  be  mailed  by  the  publishers,  postage 
prepaid,  on  receipt  of  the  priee. 

735 


HARPER'S    ROUND   TABLE 


TWO    OF    A    KIND. 


AN   APPEAL. 
I  WISH  you  would  buy  me  a  wheel,  daddy  dear, 

Ob,  really  and  truly  I  do. 
It.'s  worth  quite  a  million  of  dollars  to  me, 

Arid  costs  but  twelve  dollars  for  yon. 

And  nothing  I  know  of  in  all  of  this  world, 
No  matter  how  hard  I  may  think, 

So  easily  keeps  me  from  mischief  at  home, 
Like  cutting  up  pranks  with  your  ink. 

So  buy  me  a  bicycle,  papa,  I  pray, 
A  wheel  that  will  spin  like  a  breeze, 

And  keep  me  from  getting  in  trouble  iu-doors; 
I  am  truly  so  anxious  to  please. 


PATRICK  had  a  nice  little  trade  in  ice  in  the  small  town  of 

B ,  and  everything  progressed  smoothly,  until  one  day 

a  rival  set  up  business,  and  by  degrees  took  Pat's  custom- 
ers away.  Patrick  was  very  mad  and  swore  vengeance-, 
but  was  at  a  loss  how  to  accomplish  the  matter.  At  last  he 
hit  upon  a  plan,  and  immediately  proceeded  to  put  it  into 
•execution. 

He  visited  each  of  the  customers  he  had  lost,  and  solemn- 
ly assured  them  that  his  rival  only  sold  warm  ice. 


A  THEATRICAL  malinger  had  considerable  trouble  with 
his  star  actor,  who  was  constantly  meeting  with  accidents 
•or  falling  sick.  One  day,  as  the  story  goes,  the  star  was 
hurt  in  a  boiler  explosion.  When  the  manager  heard  of  it 
he  remarked  to  his  agent,  "  I  am  sick  of  this  sort  of  thing. 
Advertise  him,  as  usual,  and  add  that  we  intend  bringing 
•out  a  new  piece,  in  which  the  great  star  Mr.  D will  ap- 
pear in  screral  parts." 

BctniiY.  "1  wish  the  Lord  had  made  the  world  in  two 
days." 

JACK.  "  Why  ?" 

BOBBY.  "Then  we'd  have  had  three  Sundays  a  week." 


AT  THE  CAT   SHOW. 

MRS.  S.  "  What  is  the  name  of  yam  cat?" 
MRS.  W.   "Claude." 

MRS.  S.  "Why  do  you  call  it  Claude  P" 
MRS.  W.  "Because  it  scratched  me." 


Ax  old  darky  lived  in  the  South  who  was  a  great  bar- 
terer,  and  it  was  very  hard  to  beat  him  on  a  trade.  It 
seems  he  had  sold  a  mule, guaranteeing  him  faultless.  The 
purchaser  shortly  after  came  back  in  a  great  rage,  and 
said, 

"Look  here, you  rascal,  that  mnle  you  sold  me  is  blind  in 
one  eye;  you  assured  me  he  had  no  faults." 

"  Dat's  right,  sah  ;  dat  mule  babe  no  faults.  If  he  am 
blind  in  one  eye,  dat  am  his  misfortune,  not  his  fault." 


"  I  THINK  I  ought  to  stay  home  from  school  to-day,"  said 
Bobbie. 

"  Why  so,  Bobbie  ?'' asked  his  father.  "You  aren't  ill,  are 
you  ?" 

"No,  poppy;  but  I  dreamed  I  was  in  school  answering 
questions  all  last  night,  and  I  think  I've  had  enough  for 
one  day,"  said  Bobbie. 


"Do  you  know  your  letters,  Jack?" 

"No,  sir;  but  the  postman  does,  and  he  always  tells.     I 
don't  need  to  know  "em." 


"HAVE  you  tried  the  ROUXD  TABLE  bicycle  maps,  Wil- 
bui  ?"  asked  Wilbur's  father. 

"Yes,  I  have,"  said  Wilbur;  "but  the  trouble  is,  daddy, 
sometimes  I  get  'em  upside  down,  and  sort  of  have  trouble 
finding  my  way  home." 


•On!" 


•An!" 


•My!"  "Evit!" 

BABY    ELEPHANT    AND    BUBBLES. 


730 


HARPERS 

ROUND  TABLE 


'npyrighl,  1895,  by  HARPKH  &  BROTHHBS.     All  Rights  Reserved. 


PUBLISHED    WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI.— NO.  821. 


NEW  YORK,   TUESDAY.  JULY  23.   IS'.i:, 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY 
TWO    DOLI.AKS    A    TEAR. 


CORPORAL    FRED. 

A  Story  of  the  Riots. 

BY     CAPTAIN     CHARLES     KING,     U.S.A. 


CHAPTER     I. 


IT  was  a  TV  arm  June  evening,  and  the  family  was  taking 
the  air  on  the  back  porch  —  father  and  mother,  two 
stalwart  young  men,  the  elder  sons,  two  slender  girls,  and 
a,  romping  boy  of  nine — the  little  Benjamin  of  the  tribe. 
It  was  a  placid  homelike  group;  father  deep  in  the  daily 


paper  and  his  easy-chair,  mother  absorbed  in  chat  with 
the  girls  even  while  keeping  watchful  eye  on  "the  baby," 
the  family's  pet,  pride,  and  torment  by  turns,  and  the  two 
elder  sons  sitting  on  the  edge  of  the  porch,  talking  in  low 
tone  of  an  event,  that  had  called  for  no  little  discussion  all 
over  the  neighborhood  —  the  strike  of  the  switchmen  in 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


the  great  freight  yards  only  a  block  away.  Five  railway 
companies  rolled  their  trains  in  anil  out  ol'  the  thronging, 
far-spreading  metropolis  to  the  eastward — the  great  city 
•whose  hum  aud  iinirninr  were  borne  to  them  on  the  soft 
breeze  sleeping  inland  from  the  cool  bine  bosom  of  the 
Jake.  For  two  miles  along  a  number  of  parallel  tracks 
•were  idly  resting  now  by  hundreds  the  grimy  freight  cars 
of  a  dozen  lines,  while  the  gleaming  steel  rails  on  the 
"through  "  tracks,  kept  cleared  from  end  to  end,  were  as 
silent,  as  deserted,  as  the  long  tangents  over  the  boundless 
prairies  miles  to  west  and  south,  for,  except  on  the  mail 
trains,  over  the  whole  system  since  the  stroke  of  five  that 
afternoon  not  a  wheel  was  turning.  Never  before  in  all 
their  seven  years  of  residence  in  this  homelike  little  frame 
cottage  had  the  Wallace  household  known  such  utter  silence 
at  "  the  yards."  They  missed  the  rush  and  roar  of  the  great 
express  engines,  the  clatter  of  the  puffing  little  "switch- 
ers," the  rumble  aud  jar  of  the  heavy  freight  trains,  the 
dancing  will-o'-the-wisp  signals  of  the  trainmen's  lights, 
the  clang  of  hell,  and  hiss  of  steam.  There  was  something 
unnatural  in  the  stillness,  something  almost  oppressive, aud 
mother  and  the  girls,  glad  ordinarily  to  have  both  Jim  and 
Fred  at  home,  seemed  weighted  with  a  sense,  of  something 
strained  and  troublous  in  the  situation.  Jim  had  been  a 
railway  man  for  several  years,  rising  by  industry,  intelli- 
gence, and  steadiness,  to  his  present  grade  as  a  freight  con- 
ductor. Fred,  the  younger,  held  a  clerkship  in  the  great 
"plant"  of  the  Amity  Wagon-works.  He  had  received  a 
good  High-School  education,  while  Jim's  wages,  added  to 
his  father's,  had  supported  the  family  and  built  the  little 
suburban  home.  The  elder  brother's  hands  were  browned 
by  long  contact  with  grimy  brake  and  blistering,  sun-baked 
car  roofs.  The  younger's  were  white  and  slender — hands 
that  knew  no  labor  other  than  the  pen.  Both  boys  were 
athletic  and  powerful ;  Jim,  through  long  years  in  the  open 
air  and  active,  energetic  life,  Fred,  through  systematic 
training  in  the  gymnasium  and  the  camp  aud  armory  of 
the  National  Guard,  for  Fred  had  been  three  years  a  sol- 
dier in' a  "crack"  city  regiment,  and  the  corporal's  chev- 
rons on  his  uniform  were  his  greatest,  pride.  Even  in  boy 
days  he  had  begun  his  training  in  the  cadet  corps  of  the 
public  school,  where  military  drill,  especially  the  "setting- 
up"  system  of  the  regular  army,  had  been  wisely  added  to 
the  daily  course  of  instruction  ;  and  while  Jim's  biirly  form 
was  a  tritie  bowed  and  heavy,  Fred's  slender  frame  was 
erect,  sinewy,  and,  in  every  motion,  quick  and  elastic. 
"Jim  could  hug  the  breath  out  of  yon,  Fred,  like  a  thun- 
dering big  bear  if  he  once  got  his  arms  around  you,  and 
Fred  could  dance  all  around  and  hammer  you  into  pulp, 
Jim,  while  you  wen-  trying  to  grip  him,''  was  the  way  the 
father  expressed  it,  and  old  Wallace  knew  young  men  in 
general  and  his  own  boys  in  particular  as  well  as  might  be 
expected  of  the  clear-eyed,  shrewd-beaded  veteran  that  he 
was.  He  himself  had  served  the  Great  Western  railway 
faithfully  from  the  days  when  it  was  only  the  struggling 
Lake  Shore,  aud  now  as  a  first-class  mechanic  in  the  repair 
shops  he  was  a  foreman  whom  officials  and  operators  alike 
respected.  He  had  lived  a  sober,  honest,  industrious  life, 
had  reared  his  family  on  the  principle  of  mind  your  own 
business  and  pay  as  you  go,  and  was  looking  forward  to 
retiring  within  a  year  or  two,  and  giving  his  aching  old 
bones  the  rest  they  deserve. 1,  and  enjoying  the  fruits  of 
his  life  of  toil,  when  the  long-predicted  irruption  began 
with  the  strike  ordered  by  the  Switchmen's  Union. 

With  anxious  face  Mr.  Wallace  was  reading  the  news- 
paper accounts  of  the  stormy  meetings  held  the  previous 
night  aud  well  along  into  the  dawning  day.  Some  of  the 
men  involved  were  his  life-long  friends,  others  of  them  he 
had  known  many  years.  Their  uames  were  not  among 
those  of  the  speakers  whose  tiery  oratory  had  finally  pre- 
vailed. They  were  of  the  silent,  almost  passive  element, 
which, largely  in  the  majority  at  lirst,  found  itself  little  by 
little  swinging  over  under  the  lash  of  the  more  aggressive, 
and  at  last  giving  reluctant  "aye'1  or  sitting  in  moody  si- 
lence rather  than  face  the  furious  denunciation  of  the  agi- 
tators that  followed  sharp  on  every  "no."  At  two  o'clock 
in  the  morning  the  members  of  the  union,  three-fourths  of 
whom  were  originally  bitterly  opposed  to  the  project,  had 


passed  a  resolution  that  unless  certain  men  discharged  by 
the  management  of  one  of  the  five  roads  using  the  yards 
were  ivinMaled  b\  twelve  o'clock  that  day  they  would 
(pi it  work  to  a  man,  and  tie  up  the  business  of  that  and  all 
the  others.  At  nine  in  the  morning  the  committee  h;nl 
waited  on  the  division  superintendent  with  their  ultima- 
tum. The  superintendent  replied  that  the  three  men  dis- 
charged were  freight  handlers  who  had  refused  to  touch 
the  contents  of  certain  cars  of  the  Air  Line  because  of 
some  unsettled  disagreement  between  the  officials  of  that 
line  and  their  employees.  "We  know  nothing  of  that 
matter,"  said  the  superintendent.  "It  is  none  of  our  busi- 
ness. We  employed  these  meu  to  handle  any  and  all 
freight  run  into  these  yards,  aud  we  have  no  use  for  men 
who  refuse  to  do  so.  They  not  only  fhitly  refused  to  han- 
dle that  Air  Line  stuff,  hut  said  they'd  see  to  it  that  no 
one  else  did.  That  ended  the  matter  so  far  as  we're  con- 
cerned. Now  you  come  and  demand  that  men  be  restored 
to  work  who  not  only  will  not  work  themselves,  but  will 
not  let  others  work.  You  aud  I  have  grown  up  together, 
some  of  you,  at  least,  in  the  employment  of  this  road.  You, 
Morton,  aud  you,  Toohey,  were  switchmen  here  under  me 
when  I  was  yard-master  six  years  ago.  You  know  and  I 
know  that  what  you  ask  is  utterly  absurd.  No  road  can 
do  business  on  any  such  principles  as  that.  Even  if  these 
discharged  men  did  not  richly  deserve  their  discharge, 
what  affair  is  it  of  yours?  You  are  switchmen.  You've 
never  had  a  grievance  that  I  know  of.  You  never  would 
have  come  to  me  with  such  a  demand  in  this  world  but 
that  you  had  been  bamboozled  or  bulldozed  into  it  by  fel- 
lows who  have  no  earthly  connection  with  you.  and  whose 
only  business  in  life  is  to  go  round  stirring  up  trouble 
among  honest  men,  living  on  their  contributions,  and  tak- 
ing precious  good  care  to  keep  out  of  the  way  when  the 
clash  comes.  No,  lads,  I've  been  your  friend,  and  you  know 
it.  Between  you  and  injustice  of  any  kind  I'm  as  ready 
to  stand  to-day  as  ever  before,  but  I'd  be  no  friend  of  yours, 
I'd  deserve  your  contempt  as  well  as  that  of  our  employers 
and  the  whole  people,  if  I  allowed  my  freight  handlers  to 
dictate  to  me  whose  freight  they  should  handle.  Those 
men  courted  discharge  and  they  got  it.  Out  they  went 
and  out  they  stay  if  I  have  to  handle  every  pound  of 
freight  myself." 

There  was  dead  silence  a  moment  in  the  office.  The 
committeemen  stood  uneasily  before  their  old  friend  and 
chief;  three  of  them  looked  as  though  they  wished  they 
hadn't  come  and  wanted  to  quit,  two  were  more  deter- 
mined. It  was  one  of  these  who  spoke. 

"Then,  Mr.  Williams,  you  refuse  to  listen  to  our  appeal 
for  justice  ?" 

Mr.  Williams  whirled  around  in  his  chair,  sharply  con- 
fronting the  speaker;  his  clear  blue  eyes  seemed  to  look 
him  through  and  through,  a  flush  almost  of  anger  swept 
over  his  face  a  moment,  and  he  waited  before  he  spoke.  He 
had  picked  up  a  ruler,  and  was  lightly  tapping  the  edge  of 
the  desk  as  he  tilted  back  in  his  chair. 

"Your  name  is  Stoltz,  I  believe.  I  refuse  nothing  of  the 
kind,  and  you  know  it.  I  have  listened  with  more  pa- 
tience than  it  deserved.  None  of  these,  the  old  bands, 
would  have  hinted  at  such  a  thing,  and  if  they  aud  their 
fellows  will  take  the  advice  of  a  man  they've  known  ten 
years  to  your  ten  months  they'll  not  again  be  led  by  a  word- 
juggler.  Now  if  there's  any  other  matter  any  of  the  rest 
of  you  wish  to  bring  up,"  and  here  the  Superintendent 
looked  frankly  around  upon  the  anxious,  almost  crest-fallen 
faces  of  the  other  men,  ••  I'll  listen  to  you  gladly,  but  you, 
Stoltz,  have  been  far  too  short  a  time  an  employ^  of  the 
road  to  presume  to  speak  for  those  who  have  served  it  al- 
most as  long  as  I  have." 

"Yes,  and  what  have  they  got  for  it?  Do  they  sit  in  a 
swell  office,  ride  in  parlor  cars,  drive  fast  horses,  sport 
handsome  clothes — "  began  Stoltz,  sueeringly. 

"  That's  enough,  Stoltz.  They  know  that  with  a  railvv  a\ 
as  with  an  army  the  men  cau't  all  be  generals  and  colonels. 
Say  to  your  friends,  boys,"  he  continued,  in  kindly  tone, 
"  that  when  they  want  anything  of  the  road  hereafter 
they'll  be  far  more  apt  to  get  it  by  coming  themselves 
than  l>y  sending  Stoltz.  That's  all,  then." 

738 


HAMPER'S  ROUND  TABLE 


"No,  it  isn't  all!"  declaimed  Stoltz,  angrily.  "You 
haven't  heard  our  side.  If  those  three  men  ain't  back  in 
their  places  at  twelve  o'clock,  we  of  the  Switchmen's  I'nion 
go  out  to  a  man, "and  the  spokesman  paused  to  let  this  an- 
nouncement have  its  due  effect.  It  had. 

"So  far  as  oue  of  the  Union  is  concerned  he  goes  out 
here  and  iiow,  and  that  one,"  said  Jlr.  Williams,  "is  your- 
self. The  others  will,  I  hope,  think  twice  before  they  act." 

"Yon  mean  I'm  discharged!" 

"On  the  spot."  said  Mr.  Williams,  "  and  there  is  the  door." 

For  hours  that  hot  June  day  had  the  story  of  that  inter- 
view sped  from  tongue  to  tongue.  The  managers  of  the 
Switchmen's  Union  had  been  shrewd  and  wise  in  naming 
as  members  of  their  committee  three  of  the  oldest,  stanch- 
est,  and  most  faithful  hands  in  the  employ  of  the  company. 
They  were  sure  of  a  hearing.  Then  to  do  the  aggressive, 
this  comparatively  new  man,  Stoltz,  was  named,  together 
with  a  kindred  spirit  of  less  ability,  and  these  two  men  were 
the  backbone,  so  said  the  managers,  of  the  first  attack. 
Stoltz  was  a  German-American  of  good  education,  though 
deeply  imbued  with  socialistic  theories,  and  a  seductive, 
plausible  speaker  on  the  theme  of  the  wiougs  of  the  labor- 
ing man.  It  was  he  who,  under  the  guidance  of  shrewd 
agitators  and  "walking  delegates,"  had  been  most  active 
and  denunciatory  at  the  switchmen's  meetings.  Honest 
laboring  men  are  slow  of  speech,  as  a  rule,  and  fluency 
often  impresses  them  where  logic  would  have  no  effect. 
The  committee  came  away,  two  of  them  exultant  and  eager 
for  the  fray.  They  had  been  disdainfully  treated,  said 
they,  sneered  at,  reviled,  and  one  of  them  summarily  "  tired  " 
as  the  result  of  this  visit  to  the  magnate.  The  others  were 
gloomily  silent.  It  was  too  late  to  recede.  The  javeliu 
was  already  thrown.  At  the  stroke  of  five  every  man  on 
duty  quietly  quit  his  post.  Many  left  the  yard.  Others, 
eager  to  see  what  the  officials  might  do,  remained.  Stopped 
at  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  no  trains  came  in.  Only  the 
evening  mail  crept  out,  its  own  crew  manning  the  success- 
ive switches. 

.  It  was  now  8.45,  and  barely  dark.  The  western  sky  was 
still  faintly  illumined.  Old  Wallace  could  no  longer  read, 
and  bent  down  to  take  a  hand  in  the  talk  between  his 
boys.  Silence  still  reigned  in  the  deserted  yards.  Men 
hovered  in  muttering  groups,  and  watched  the  few  of- 
ficials who  flitted  about  with  lanterns  in  their  hands.  A 
rumor  was  going  around  that  the  management  had  deter- 
mined to  send  out  all  the  night  passenger  trains  as  usual, 
and  the  first  of  these  should  be  along  by  ten  o'clock.  As 
Mr.  Wallace  bent  over  Jim's  broad  shoulder  his  wife  and 
daughters  ceased  their  low  chatter.  Evidently  something 
was  i>n  the  old  man's  minil. 

"There's   no  danger  of  its  spreading  to  your  people,  is 
there,  Jim  ?     Would  you  go  out  if  they  did  ?" 
.    "Father,"  said  the  young  man,  slowly,  "you  know  the 
ties  by   which  we  are  bound.      Suppose   now  that  Fred's 
regiment  were  ordered  out,  would  you  ask  him  would  he  go?" 

Old  Wallace  looked  graver  still.  "  I  consider  that  a  very 
different  proposition,"  said  he.  "I  was  hoping — "  he  fal- 
tered, when  a  young  fellow  in  soiled  blue  flannel  garb 
slipped  quietly  in  through  the  rear  gate,  and  coming  up  to 
the  freight  conductor,  said  the  two  words, 

"Wanted,  Jim." 

Jim's  bronzed  cheek  turned  a  shade  lighter. 

"What  hour.'" 

"At  once." 

And  before  the  others  could  ask  explanation  of  this  scene 
a  bicycle  came  flashing  up  to  the  same  gate,  and  the  tall 
rider  dismounted  and  strode  quickly  toward  the  party. 
Young  Fred's  eyes  glistened  at  sight  of  him. 

"Orders,  Sergeant  ?"  he  eagerly  inquired. 

"Y'es.  Notify  your  squad  to  make  arrangements  with 
their  employers,  and  be  ready  to  report  at  the  armory  at  a 
moment's  notice." 

The  two  brothers  stood  facing  each  other  a  little  later, 
then  silently  clasped  hands.  Oue  at  the  beck  of  a  secret 
protective  organization,  the  other  at  the  call  of  duty  to 
State  and  nation,  parted  at  their  father's  gate  to  go  their 
separate  ways. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


A  BOY'S   AQUARIUM. 

BOYS  who  live  in  the  city  do  not,  perhaps,  get  quite  the 
freedom  of  action  and  fun  generally  that  a  country 
boy  can, but  they  do  manage  to  ha\e  a  pretty  good  time, 
even  if  they  have  to  work  a  little  harder  for  it.  It  is  hard 
to  keep  pets  in  the  city.  Dogs  need  a  lot  of  exercising, 
birds  are  apt  to  be  a  nuisance  to  the  neighbors,  if  not  to  the 
boy's  family,  and  yet  pets  are  a  necessity  to  every  well- 
brought-up  boy's  happiness. 

An  aquarium  is  always  dear  to  every  boy's  heart.  And 
aquariums  are  not  impossible  in  a  city  house.  Fortunately 
i  hey  can  be  just  as  well  taken  care  of  in  the  city  as  in  the 
country.  A  medium-sized  aquarium  which  will  hold  quite  a 
lot  of  stuff  can  be  bought  for  si  '<><  or  81  75.  This  must  be 
filled  with  gravel  or  sand  to  the  depth  of  four  inches.  In 
the  sand  must  be,  securely  fastened,  some  water-grasses, 
which  arc  for  sale  at  any  of  the  stores  where  fish  are  to  be 
bought.  The  boys  who  succeed  best  with  their  aquariums 
are  those  who  study  the  matter  pretty  thoroughly  before 
they  begin,  and  read  up  the  scientific  books  of  natural  his- 
tory. The  simpler  works  of  this  sort  contain  any  amount 
of  practical  information  which  any  boy  can  apply  to  his 
own  use. 

A  porous  stone  seems  to  be  necessary  in  the  middle  of  the 
aquarium.  As  for  the  placing  of  the  water  plants,  they 
must  be  left  to  the  boy's  own  taste  and  judgment.  Indeed, 
the  arrangement  of  the  whole  aquarium  must  be  left  to  the 
boy  who  owns  it.  In  this  place  I  must  stop  and  say  that 
it  is  foolish  for  any  boy  to  consult  many  of  his  playmates 
as  to  how  the  thing  should  be  arranged,  for  when  he  has 
asked  and  received  much  advice,  he  will  find  that  most  of 
it  is  directly  opposed  to  what  he  already  knew,  and  be- 
sides is  so  varied  as  to  be  nearly  useless.  A  glass  tube  for 
removing  the  manure  from  the  sand  must  be  kept  beside 
the  aquarium,  if  the  scavengers,  such  as  pollywogs  and 
snails,  fail  to  do  their  duty  in  cleaning  up. 

An  extreme!}'  pretty  aquarium  has  lately  been  fitted  up 
by  a  boy  about  eleven  years  old.  It  is  not  a  very  large 
one. and  stands  on  a  small  table  near  the  window  of  his 
room — too  near,  it  may  be  said,  for  the  sun  these  summer 
days  having  unusual  power  has  caused  the  untimely  death 
of  two  many-tailed  Japanese  gold-fish  and  four  extremely 
graceful  little  silver-fish.  With  the  exception  of  this  mor- 
tality, the  death  rate  has  been  quite  low.  The  original  oc- 
cnpantsof  the  aquarium  before  these  recent  deaths  consisted 
of  two  pair  of  Japanese  gold-fish,  two  pair  of  silver-fish, 
two  pollywogs — one  small  one,  who  worked  busily  all  day 
trying  to  do  his  'share  of  the  work  in  keeping  the  place 
.clean,  and  oue  big  fat  pollywog,  who  sadly  neglected  his 
duty  and  spent  his  time  trying  to  turn  into  a  frog  as  quickly 
as  he  possibly  could.  Six  snails,  who  were  put  in  the  aqua- 
rium to  keep  the  glass  clean,  worked  hard  and  satisfactorily 
in  accomplishing  their  mission  (in  the  beginning  one  snail 
was  at  first  relegated  to  this  work,  but  the  task  was  be- 
yond his  power,  and,  after  making  a  superhuman  effort  to 
go  the  whole  round,  he  yielded  up  his  life). 

The  water  in  the  aquarium  is  changed  twice  a  month,  and 
when  that  is  done  the  fish  are  lifted  out  very  tenderly  and 
carefully  with  a  little  scoop  net,  and  put  in  a  basin  near 
by  overnight,  until  every  impurity  of  the  sand  shall  have 
settled  and  the  water  is  absolutely  transparent.  This  per- 
formance is  always  one  of  deep  anxiety,  and  requires  un- 
remitting attention  to  be  sure  that  everything  is  replaced 
exactly  as  it  was  before,  so  that  the  fishes  will  know  their 
home  when  they  get  back  to  it.  There  was  a  lizard  put  in 
this  aquarium,  to  begin  with,  but  he  proved  of  a  very 
quarrelsome  disposition,  and  tried  to  bite  the  tails  of  the 
fish,  so  that  he  had  to  be  removed  to  a  basin,:where  he  lives 
a  life  of  solitude.  The  pleasure  given  by  this  little  aqua- 
rium has  far  exceeded  the  outlay  of  money,  and  many  a 
useful  lessou  in  neatness  and  care  has  been  learned  in 
looking  out  for  the  needs  of  the  fish.  A:XXE  HKLME. 


MIITHEI:.  "Jack,  why  is  it  you  have  so  many  holes  in 
jour  pocket-  .'" 

JACK.  "  I  guess  it's  my  money  which  burns  through." 


739 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


PERILS   OF    THE  NEWFOUNDLAND 
BANKS. 

BY  W.  J.  HENDERSON. 

IT  was  blowiu^  half  a  gale  from  the  southward  and  east- 
ward, aud  the  Captain  said  it  would  be  worse  before  it 
was  better.  Tbe  Moliau-k  was  plunging  bead  first  over  the 
raffed  seas,  with  a  great  roaring  of  thunderous  foam  under 
ber  bawseboles  as  she  fell  into  the  wide  hollows,  aud  a 
sickening  upward  swirl  of  her  lean  stem  as  she  rose  again 
to  meet  the  reeling  cliffs  of  water  that  swept  down  upou 
her  out  of  the  windward  ghiuiii.  The  streamer  of  browu 
smoke  that  rushed  from  her  tall  black  funnel  went  wreath- 
ing aud  shuddering  away  to  leeward,  where  it  seemed  to 
add  a  blacker  tinge  to  the  gray  wall  of  the  hard  clouds. 
The  sea  was  not  yet  torn  to  spoon-drift  by  the  wind ;  but 
there  was  a  huge  under-running  sweep  of  swell  that  made 
one  thiuk  that  bad  weather  lay  behind  the  windward 
horizon. 

Ever  and  anon  the  propeller  would  leap  out  of 
the  water,  aud  as  it  revolved  in  the  air,  set  the  ship  full 
of  rumbling  quivers.  Most  of  the  passengers — aud  they 
were  not  many,  for  it  was  not  one  of  the  big  "liners" — lay 
below  decks  in  the  unspeakable  agony  of  early  seasickness, 
for  the  ship  was  not  long  out,  aud  had  just  reached  the 
edge  of  the  Newfoundland  banks.  A  lew  of  the  ocean 
travellers,  however,  mostly  men  who  had  seen  salt  spray 
before,  sat  huddled  in  their  rugs  under  the  lee  of  the  deck- 
house, conversing  upon  such  cheering  topics  as  collisions, 
and  icebergs,  and  leaks.  One  who  had  not  crossed  the  sea 
before,  hut  who  was  free  from  sickness,  said, 

"  I  am  told  that  we  are  now  on  the  banks  of  Newfound- 
laud,  where  foolish  men  go  iu  small  sailing-vessels  to 
fish." 

"Foolish  you  may  well  call  them,"  said  an  old  voyager, 
"for  they  lie  there  in  thick  weather  and  thin  without 
making  a  sign  of  their  presence.  I  remember  once,  steam- 
ing slowly  through  a  dense  fog  on  a  great  Cuuarder,  we 
heard  the  fog-horn  of  a  single  sailing  craft,  and  presently 
that  ceased.  A  minute  later  the  fog  lifted,  and  there  were 
thirty  sail  of  them  within  the  circumference  of  a  mile.  I 
tell  yon,  those  fellows  are — 

"Sail  ho!"  cried  the  lookout  forward,  and  several  pas- 
sengers sprang  to  their  feet.  They  knew  that  it  was  out 
of  the  common  order  of  things  on  a  merchant  steamer  to 
make  a  noise  about  a  passing  sail,  such  fussiness  being 
left  to  men-of-war  that  have  uothing  more  to  do.  They 
crowded  to  the  rail  of  the  ship,  aud  far  ahead  they  saw 
what  seemed  to  be  a  small  sloop  staggering  over  the  big 
seas  under  very  scant  canvas.  The  lookout  and  the  offi- 
cer on  the  bridge  exchanged  some  words,  from  which  the 
passengers  learned  that  the  sailor  made  the  vessel  out  to 
be  in  distress. 

"Call  away  the  whale-boat!"  cried  the  officer,  and  in  a 
moment  the  boatswain's  pipe  was  screeching,  and  three  or 
four  seamen  trotted  aft  in  their  oilskins. 

"A  rescue!"  exclaimed  the  new  voyager.  "I  had  no 
hope  that  I  should  ever  be  so  fortunate  as  to  see  such  a 
thing." 

"  I'm  not  so  certain  that  you'll  regard  it,  as  good  fortune," 
said  an  old  voyager.  "Sometimes  these  tilings  are  tragic, 
especially  in  a  rising  gale,  when  your  own  boat's  crew  may 
be  lost  in  the  attempt." 

'•  Do  you  thiuk  it  may  come  to  that?" 
"Ay,  man,  it  may  in  such  a  sea;  but  let  us  hope  for  the 
best.  See,  we  are  coming  abreast  of  the  cripple.  But  we 
must  cross  to  the  other  side;  our  ship  will  go  to  windward 
of  her."  Aud  marvelling  at  the  old  voyager's  sea  lore,  the 
new  one  went  with  the  others  to  the  weather-rail,  where 
the  force  of  the  gale  came  upon  them  aud  beat  their  breath 
back  into  their  nostrils. 

"Heaven's  mercy!"  exclaimed  the  new  voyager,  "but  it 
is  a  sad  sight." 

She  was  a  little  schooner  of  some  fifty  tons.  Her  fore- 
mast had  been  carried  away  about  ten  feet  above  the  deck, 
and  bad  taken  with  it  her  jibbonm  and  her  maintopmast. 
The  forecastle  deck  was  a  litter  of  broken  timbers  and 
tangled  cordage  that  washed  pitiably  from  side  to  side  as 


the  waters  rolled  over  the  splintered  rail,  or  sobbed  through 
its  gaping  seams.  The  mainboom  was  lashed  amidships, 
and  a  jib-headed  storm  trysail  was  sheeted  aft.  A  spare 
jib  had  been  set  from  the  mainmast  head  to  the  stump 
of  the  foremast,  aud  under  these  two  cloths  the  poor 
maimed  craft  was  desperately  striving  to  keep  her  shat- 
tered head  to  the  threatening  seas.  High  up  iu  the  main 
rigging  flew  the  United  States  flag,  union  down,  poor  Jack's 
red,  white,  and  blue  cry  for  help.  There  was  an  ominous 
heaviness  about,  the  fall  of  her  bows  into  the  restless  hol- 
lows that  told  the  Captain  of  the  Moliawk  that  she  had  not 
long  to  live. 

"  We'll  send  a  boat  for  you,"  he  roared  down  the  wind, 
as  his  steamer  slipped  slowly  ahead. 

The  hapless  wretches  on  the  schooner  waved  their  hands 
and  uttered  a  faint  cheer.  The  whale-boat  was  lowered 
away  when  the  Mohawk  was  half  a  mile  to  windward  of 
the  wreck.  The  buoyant  little  craft  leaped  over  the 
waves,  disappearing  between  them,  aud  then  tossing  high 
in  air  on  their  foamy  crests. 

"  It's  all  a  wonder  to  me  that  she  doesn't  capsize,"  said 
the  new  voyager. 

"A  good  whale-boat  will  outlive  a  poor  ship,"  said  the 
veteran . 

Aud  now  watching  with  their  glasses  the  passengers  saw 
the  whale-boat  sweep  down  under  the  stern  of  the  schooner, 
and  round  up  under  her  lee,  while  the  bowmau  stood  up  aud 
hurled  a  line  to  one  of  the  schoouer's  people.  By  the  aid  of 
this  the  whale-boat  was  dropped  under  the  lee  quarter  of  the 
cripple,  and  at  each  upward  swing  of  the  smaller  craft  one 
of  the  shipwrecked  marines  contrived  to  tumble  into  her. 
Six  men  and  a  boy  of  some  fifteen  years  they  were.  Mean- 
while the  steamer  was  dropped  slowly  down  until  she  was 
within  a  fair  pull  of  the  schooner.  The  whale-boat  came 
leaping  and  dancing  over  the  seas,  the  men  laying  down 
their  broad  backs  to  the  oars,  aud  the  white  smoke  of  the 
spray  flying  on  either  bow.  It  was  no  small  task  to  get 
the  men  out  of  the  boat  without  crushing  her  like  paper 
asainst  the  iron  side  of  the  steamer  as  it  swung  downward, 
yet  by  patience  and  seamen's  skill  it  was  accomplished. 
The  whale-boat  was  hoisted  to  her  davits,  and  the.Mohau'k 
resumed  her  voyage,  while  the  shipwrecked  men  were 
taken  below  to  be  given  warm  drinks,  food,  and  dry  cloth- 
ing. 

"  Will  not  their  schooner  drift  about  iu  the  path  of  pass- 
ing ships?"  asked  the  new  voyager. 

"No,  I  fancy  not,"  said  the  veteran;  "she  will — look!" 
At  that  instant  the  little  schoouer's  steru  rose  high  into 
the  air,  where  it  hung  poised  for  a  moment.  Then  she 
was  swiftly  absorbed  by  the  pitiless  sea,  and  ber  fluttering 
ensign  made  a  bright  spot  above  a  patch  of  angry  green 
for  a  moment  and  was  gone. 

"  I  never  saw  a  sadder  sight,"  said  the  new  voyager, 
gazing  with  humid  eyes  upou  the  blank  sea. 

"There  is  none  sadder,"  replied  the  veteran  passen- 
ger. 

They  all  returned  to  their  sung  seats  under  the  lee  of 
the  deck-house,  and  for  a  long  time  were  lost  iu  medita- 
tion. Then  the  new  voyager  looked  up  aud  said,  "  I  should 
like  to  bear  their  story." 

"  That  is  possible,"  answered  the  veteran  ;  "  come." 
The  Captain  of  the  J/o/micfr  was  found  and  the  request 
made.     He  sent  for  the  skipper  of  the  lost  schooner,  and 
said  :   "  Do  you  feel  able,  now  to  tell  me  your  story  ?     If  so, 
these  gentlemen  also  would  like  to  hear  it." 

"Well,  Captain,"  began  the  wrecked  skipper,  "it's  a 
common  enough  story,  that's  a  fact,  sir,  and  I  reckon  it 
hasn't  anything  in  it  that  you  never  heard  before,  though 
perhaps  some  of  your  passengers  here  never  got  nearer  to 
it  than  a  newspaper  at  a  breakfast  table.  That  was  the 
schooner  ihinj  Anthony,  from  Gloucester,  and  I'm  her  mas- 
ter— that  is,  I  was — Joshua  Clark  by  name,  and  the  boy's 
my  son  on  his  first  v'yage.  That  schooner  was  about  all  I 
had  iu  the  world,  gentlemen,  for  I  owned  her  myself,  and 
when  she,  went  down  a  little  while  ago  the  hard  work  of 
seventeen  years  went  down  with  her.  But  I  s'pose  I 
mustn't  complain,  because  we  take  our  lives  and  fortunes 
in  our  hands  whenever  we  come  out  to  the  Banks  to  fish, 


740 


THE    PASSENGERS    SAW    THE    WHALE-BOAT    SWEEP    DOWN    UNDER    THE    STERN    OP    THE    SCHOONER. 


and  that's  a  fact.  We  got  under  way  from  Gloucester  ou 
as  sweet  a  morning  as  ever  yon  saw,  gentlemen,  with  a 
whole-sail  breeze  from  the  southwest.  The  Mary  Anthony 
was  a  smart  sailer,  though  I  do  say  it,  and  she  wasn't  long 
in  getting  the  land  below  the  horizon,  and  that's  a  fact. 
When  we  reached  the  Banks  we  found  a  fairly  large  fleet 
on  the  ground,  and  we  were  soon  at  work  among  the  best 
of  them.  It  isn't  worth  while  trying  to  describe  the  mere 
matter  of  fishing  to  you,  gentlemen,  because,  of  course,  that 
isn't  what  you  want  to  hear  about.  It's  enough  for  me  to 
say  that  we'd  been  on  the  Banks  three  days  and  had  very 
good  luck  before  the  accident  befell  us.  I  s'pose,  Captain, 
yon  didn't  see  anything  of  a  fog  last  night,  did  you  ?" 
"No;  we  must  have  heen  well  outside  of  it." 
"Two  steamers  passed  us  before  the  fog  set  in,  and  of 
course  they  had  no  trouble  keeping  clear  of  the  fleet.  Yes- 
terday afternoon  I  slipped  away  to  the  southward  of  the 
rest  of  them,  some  half  a  dozen  miles,  following  a  school  of 
fish,  and  all  of  a  sudden  I  saw  the  fog  coming  up.  I  made 
up  my  mind  that  there  wasn't  any  use  of  going  back,  and 
so  I  lay  to  right  where  I  was.  The  fog  came  down  thicker 
than  cheese,  and  not  long  afterward  the  heavy  swell  set  in 
from  the  southward  and  eastward,  and  I  knew  there  was 
weather  brewing.  So  I  had  all  the  dories  got  aboard  and 
stowed  amidships.  The  swell  kept  ou  increasing,  and  the 
fog  was  so  thick  you  couldn't  see  the  length  of  the  schooner. 
It  was  just  after  three  bells  in  the  midwatch  when  I  heard 
a  yell  from  my  lookout.  Before  I  could  tumble  out  of  my 
bunk  there  was  a  tremendous  thump  that  threw  me  half- 
way across  my  cabin.  I  jumped  on  deck  just  in  time  to 
see  the  huge  black  hull  of  a  steamer  towering  above  us. 
She  slipped  away  into  the  fog,  and  was  gone.  There  were 
a  few  shouts  from  her  deck,  but  we  neither  saw  nor  heard 
any  more  of  her. 

"  I  sprang  forward  to  see  what  damage  had  been  done.  I 
found  my  little  schooner  had  been  mortally  hurt,  gentle- 
men, and  that's  a  fact.  The  foremast,  as  you  must  have 
noticed,  had  been  snapped  off  about  ten  feet  above  the 
deck,  and  had  carried  a  lot  of  our  rig  with  it.  But  that 
was  not  all.  The  wreckage  from  aloft  had  fallen  so  that 


something — the  foretopmast,  I  suppose — had  smashed  our 
dories  into  kindling  wood.  I  sent  my  mate  below,  and  he 
came  back  with  the  report  that  we  were  taking  in  water 
through  half  a  dozen  seams  forward.  I  set  two  bauds  at 
work  to  try  to  stop  the  leaks,  while  the  rest  of  us  cleared 
away  some  of  the  wreckage.  Meanwhile  the  swell  had  in- 
creased so  that  we  were  rolling  dreadfully,  and  there  was 
great  danger  that  some  one  would  be  hurt  by  the  loose 
timbers.  I'm  thankful,  however,  that  we  escaped  that  mis- 
fortune. Toward  daylight  the  wind  rose  and  blew  the  fog 
off.  I  saw  that  we  were  in  for  a  blow,  and  I  decided  to  run 
toward  the  laud  as  long  as  I  dared.  I  set  the  canvas  that 
you  saw,  and  started  her  off  ahead  of  the  gale.  All  hands 
were  sent  to  the  pumps,  but  in  spite  of  our  hardest  work 
the  water  gained  on  us.  The  gale  increased  and  the  sea 
rose,  and  then  I  found  that  the  schooner  was  so  heavy  with 
the  water  in  her  that  she  was  in  great  danger  of  being 
pooped — that  is,  gentlemen,  having  a  sea  break  over  her 
stern  and  sweep  her  decks.  That  would  have  been  the  end 
of  us,  and  not  a  soul  would  have  known  what  had  become 
of  us,  for,  you  see.  we  had  no  boats  to  take  to,  they  being 
smashed.  So  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  heave  her  to 
and  wait,  hoping  that  some  ship  might  come  along  and 
take  us  off.  Gentlemen,  it's  cruel  hard  to  work  at  the 
pumps  till  your  arms  are  numb  and  your  back  feels  as  if  it 
were  being  cut  with  a  saw,  and  still  to  know  that  your  ves- 
sel is  settling  under  yon,  and  that  in  a  short  time  she  must 
go  down.  I  tell  you  we  cast  mighty  anxious  looks  around 
the  horizon  every  time  we  rose  on  a  sea;  and  we  felt  like 
cheering  when  we  saw  the  smoke  from  yonr  funnel  down 
iu  the  west.  Then  came  another  time  of  anxiety  before  we 
were  sure  you  were  coming  our  way,  and  even  after  that 
we  wereu't  positive  that  yon  would  take  us  off." 

"What!"  exclaimed  the  new  voyager;  "is  it  possible 
that  there  are  men  so  inhuman  as  to  leave  fellow-creatures 
ou  a  sinking  vessel f" 

"  There  are  a  few  such  fellows  on  the  sea,"  said  the  Cap- 
tain of  the  schooner  ;  "but  I  don't  think  any  of  them  sail 
under  the  flag  that  yonr  Captain  ran  up  to  his  peak  when 
he  saw  our  signal  of  distress." 


741 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


THE  SWEETMEAT   AGE. 

LONG  ago  when  tlie  moon   was  one  big  jiie 
For  all  little  boys  to  <-;ii. 
Then  some  of  the  stars  were  sugar-plums, 
And  some  of  them  raisins  SWIM -t  : 

Then  the  glorious  snu  was  a  custard  pudding 

Served  up  in  a  vast  blue  dish  ; 
And  the  whole  of  the  sea  was  soda-water 

Half  filled   with   ice-cream  lish; 

The  great  round  earth  was  a  luscious  peach, 

The  grass  was  the  pnckery  fuzz — 
If  it  doesn't  seem  true  to  all  and   each, 

Let  him   believe  it  who  does — 

Then  the  mountain-peaks  were  chocolate  drops, 

And  the  icebergs  Roman  punch  ; 
And  the-  dark  storm-clouds  rained  lemonade — 

People  dug  up  the  mud  for  luuch. 

When   it  hailed,  the  hailstones  were  fine   popcorn, 

And  pulverized  sugar  it  snowed  ; 
And  the  brooks  as  they  ran  by  the  candy-trees 

With  lovely  root-beer  o'erflowed. 

Ah  !  that  was  the  time,  in  the  long  ago, 

When  children  worked  hard,  tooth  and  tongue; 

But  most  of  them  suffered  from  overfed  stomachs, 
And,  somehow,  they  all  died  young.         E.  H. 


WINNING  A  WATERMELON. 

O  CRATCHBONES  is  certainly  not  a  very  elegant  name, 
O  and  yet  the  animal  to  whom  it  belonged,  a  very  ragged- 
looking  mule,  was  proudly  claimed  by  its  owner,  Goliath 
Washington  Jackson,  an  equally  ragged-looking  Southern 
darky,  to  be  the  philosopher  of  the  mule  tribe.  Why  he 
claimed  this  has  never  been  definitely  settled,  and  \\lien- 
ever  any  question  was  put  to  Goliath  regarding  the  excel- 
lence of  Scratchbones's  intelligence,  the  reply  would  be 
something  like  this: 

"Yes,  sah!  How  I  know  dat  mule  am  intelligent?  He! 
'he!  be!  but  dat's,  funny.  Yon  'member  de  ole  school- 
massa  ?  Well,  sah,  he  owned  dat  mule  once,  au'  ueber 
feeded  'im  up  to  de  handle.  One  day  Scratch  was  hungrier 
dan  usual,  an'  be  chewed  de  ole  man's  books.  He  neher 
forgot  dat  eddication."  And  here  Goliath  would  chuckle 
to  himself. 

Our  town  recently  received  an  innovation  in  the  shape 
of  a  splendidly  asphalted  street,  and  one  very  hot  day.  shortly 
after  its  completion,  Goliath  drove  up  to  the  door  of  the 
hardware  store  with  Scratchhones.  Coming  in,  he  began 
boasting,  as  usual,  of  his  wonderful  mule,  and  how  well  he 
stood  the  hot  weather.  None  of  us  young  fellows  cared  to 
question  the  heat,  and  as  for  the  mule,  we  thought  it  was 
either  stand  it  or  lie  down.  He  evidently  preferred  to 
stand,  for  there  he  stood  in  the  blazing  snu  staring  blankly 
down  the  street. 

Goliath  had  dropped  in  to  make  some  purchases,  which, 
of  course,  necessitated  a  great  deal  of  talk  and  time.  In 
the  mean  while  Seratehbones  was  patiently  waiting  in  the 
hot  suu  outside,  scarcely  budging,  unless  it  was  an  occa- 
sional switch  of  his  tail.  A  thunder-storm  had  beeu  brew- 
ing, and  when  Goliath  finally  started  for  the  door  down 
came  the  rain,  sending  up  steam  from  the  hot  street.  No- 
thing suited  him  better  than  to  have  an  excuse  to  further 
regale  us  with  a  list  of  his  mule's  remarkable  talents. 
Among  the  many,  he  spoke  of  his  ability  to  drive  Scrateh- 
liones,  and  how  well  he  obeyed  him.  Now,  while  this  talk 
bad  been  going  on.  I  had  occasionally  glanced  at  Scratch- 
bones,  and  he  seemed  uneasy,  especially  since  the  rain  had 
started,  and  was  nervously  switching  his  tail  back  and 
forth.  I  thought  it  was  on  account  of  the  storm,  but  casu- 
ally glancing  at  him.  I  noted  si •thing  that  made  me 

smile,  and,  slipping  off  my  seat,  I  quietly  told  the  other 
boys. 


"Goliath,"!  said, "  I'll  wager  a  large  .juicy  watermelon 
that  your  mule  won't  obey  you  if  I  tell  him  not  to." 

"Ha!  ha!  ha!  He!  he!  yonse  is  fooliu'  dis  yere  ole 
man,Massa  Harry." 

"No,  no,I  mean  it.  All  I'll  do  is  to  say  something  to 
myself,  and  your  mule  wou't  budge  when  yon  say  '  gee,' 
but  simply  wag  his  tail." 

'•  It's  done,  Massa  Harry.  1'se  '11  take  dat  wager,  but  de 
melon  has  to  he  de  largest  yon  can  git." 

"All  right,"  I  said.  And  as  it  had  stopped  raining, 
Goliath  proceeded  to  his  wagon,  and,  climbing  up  on  the 
seat,  picked  up  the  ropes  he  called  reins  and  shouted,  "Gee 
up  dere,  Scratch."  Bat,  as  I  predicted,  Scratch  never 
moved  a  leg,  but  only  switched  his  tail. 

"Gee  up  dere;  what's  de  mattah  wif  yonse  ?"  But  not 
a  move  did  that  mule  make.  We  stood  in  the  doorway 
laughing  so  heartily  that  Goliath  grew  suspicions,  and 
climbing  down,  walked  slowly  around  the  mule  and  wagon, 
doubtless  to  discover  if  we  had  played  him  a  trick. 

Everything  appeared  all  right,  aud  getting  on  the  wagon, 
he  tried  it  again.  "Get  along  dere,  Scratch,  yon  long-eared 
hone-yard.  Gee  up !" 

It  was  useless;  Scratch  wouldn't  move,  and  Goliath. with 
a  woe-begone,  puzzled  expression  on  his  face,  clambered 
down  and  surveyed  old  Seratehbones.  His  eyes  wandered 
along  every  stitch  of  the  harness,  and  finally  down  to 
Scratch's  feet.  A  very  curious  look  covered  his  face,  and 
stooping,  he  discovered  the  reason  why  Scratch  wouldn't 
gee. 

Scratchboues  aud  the  wagon  had  stood  so  long  on  that 
new  asphalt,  and  unfortunately  in  a  place  made  softer  than 
the  rest  by  the  sun,  that  he  actually  had  sunk  i»/«  it.  and 
the  tarry  stuff  had  gathered  around  his  hoofs.  The  rain- 
fall cooled  it  off,  hardening  it.  and  consequently  both  mule 
and  wagon  were  locked  to  the  street. 

Goliath  was  mad,  and  claimed  we  had  put  up  the  joke 
on  him.  However,  he  lost  the  melon,  aud  as  it  took  an 
hour  or  so  to  dig  Scratch  out,  we  made  him  get  it.  and  final- 
ly got  him  into  good  humor,  but  told  him  never  to  boast 
of  his  wonderful  mule. 

"  I's  done  boastiu'  of  dat  mule.  Neher  no  more,  masses, 
dat  mule  done  need  no  one  to  boast  of  'im.  He  done  show 
bow  proud  he  am  when  he  can't  stau'  in  de  street  widour. 
gettiu'  stuck  on  'imself."  HUBERT  EARL. 


A    MEAN    MAN. 

A  FRENCH  paper  tells  of  a  man  who  ought  to  be  set 
down  as  the  meanest  man  of  his  time.  His  name  is 
Rapincau.  and  he  is  the  happy  father  of  three  children. 
His  chief  claim  to  meanness  lies  in  the  fact  that  he  has 
lately  discovered  a  plan  to  reduce  his  weekly  expenditure. 
Every  morning,  when  sitting  down  at  table,  he  makes  the 
following  proposal :  "  Those  who  will  go  without  breakfast 
shall  have  twopence."  "  lie — me  !"  exclaim  the  youngsters 
iu  chorus.  Rapineau  gives  them  the  money  and  suppresses 
the  breakfast.  Iu  the  afternoon,  when  the  children  were 
anxiously  expecting  their  first  meal,  liapincau  calls  out, 
"  Those  who  want  their  dinner  must  give  twopence  ;"  and 
they  all  pay  hack  what  they  received  in  the  morning  for 
going  without  their  breakfast,  aud  in  that  way  Rapineau 
saves  a  meal  a  day. 


JOHN  KILBURNE'S  FORT. 

BY  JAMES  OTIS. 

SEVEN   miles  from  that  settlement  iu   the  province  of 
New  Hampshire  which  is  now  known  as  Kt-ene.  John 
Kilburne  built,  iu  the  year  1754,  a  log  house  of  such  strength 
aud  so  well  adapted  for  defence  that  his  neighbors  spoke  of 

it  as  a"  garrison, "and  re  than  one  ridiculed  the  idea  of 

erecting  a  fort  when  only  a  dwelling-house  was  required. 

It  troubled  stout-hearted  John  Kilburne  not  one  whit 
that  his  acquaintances  found  subject  for  mirth  in  the  pre- 
cautions he  took  against  a  savage  foe.  "In  case  the  lud- 
iaus  do  make  an  attack  upon  rue  and  mine,  I  shall  he  in 


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HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


better  condition  to  receive  them  in  a  building  of  this  kind 
than  in  cue  erected  flimsily,  and  if  tliey  do  not,  my  wife  and 
two  boys  will  sleep  all  the  more  soundly  for  knowing  I  have. 
protected  them  from  possible  intruders."  This  the  owner 
of  the  "  garrison  "  repeated  again  and  again,  until  finding 
he  would  make  no  other  reply  to  their  bantering,  his  friends 
ceased  to  speak  derisively  of  the  structure. 

In  one  year  from  the  time  the  fortlike  bouse  had  been 
built  John  Kilburue  had  good  cause  for  satisfaction  with 
himself.  England  was  again  at  war  with  the  French  re- 
garding her  possessions  in  the  New  World,  and  the  Indians 
were  making  indiscriminate  attacks  upon  the  settlers  in  the 
easternmost  provinces. 

Benjamin  and  Arthur  Kilbnrne,  sons  of  John  and  Mar- 
tha bis  wife,  although  but  fourteen  and  twelve  years  of 
age  respectively,  were  well  versed  in  the  use  of  fire-arms, 
for  in  those  days  the  assistance  of  even  the  children  of  a 
household  might  become  necessary.  Rumors  of  Indian 
depredations  were  rife,  yet  they  felt  little  fear  of  an  at- 
tack. Within  the  walls  of  the  "  garrison  "  their  father  and 
themselves  would  be  able  to  hold  in  check  a  large  body  of 
savages,  and  be  exposed  to  but  little  danger. 

The  crops  had  been  harvested;  the  cattle  were  inside  the 
stockade,  where  was  ample  food  for  them  in  case  qf  a  siege, 
and  where  they  would  serve  as  food  if  the  larder  of  the 
house  needed  replenishing. 

Early  on  the  morning  of  the  9th  of  October  John  Pike, 
his  wife,  and  two  sisters  arrived  at  the  "garrison"  with  a 
pitiful  tale.  The  Indians  had  killed  Daniel  Twitchel  and 
Jacob  Flynt  the  night  previous,  and  the  visitors  had  but 
just  escaped  from  their  home  before  it  was  set  on  fire  by 
the  cruel  enemy. 

"I  doubt  not  they  will  make  an  attack  here  before  an- 
other day,  friend  Kilbnrne,  yet  I  beg  shelter  of  you,  and 
my  rifle  may  not  come  amiss." 

"You  would  be  welcome  to  stay,  even  though  unarmed," 
was  the  hearty  reply.  "The  garrison  is  large  enough  for 
all,  and  I  would  that  Daniel  Twitchel  had  spent  more  time 
strengthening  his  own  dwelling  against  an  attack  instead 
of  trying  to  find  flaws  in  the  way  I  chose  to  provide  for  my 
family.  Ben,  you  and  your  brother  had  better  mould  liul- 
lets.  It  will  serve  to  keep  you  in-doors,  and  no  one  can  say 
how  much  ammunition  may  lie  needed." 

As  the  boys  set  about  the  task.  Mr.  Killmrne  listened 
again  to  the  sad  news  brought  by  his  neighbor.  There 
was  nothing  to  be  done  iu  the  way  of  making  ready  for 
defence,  because  that  had  been  attended  to  when  no  dan- 
ger threatened. 

John  Pike  had  not  finished  giving  his  story  in  detail, 
when  Mrs.  Kilbnrne,  who  had  stepped  out  of  the  house  to 
get  water  from  the  pump,  which  stood  close  at  hand,  sprang 
back  suddenly,  her  fare  so  pale  that  there  was  no  necessity 
of  asking  the  cause  of  her  alarm. 

The  two  men  were  at  the  loop-holes  in  an  instant,  and 
that  which  he  saw  caused  Mr.  Kilbnrne  to  say  sharply : 

"  Ben,  I  leave  the  north  side  of  the  house  to  you  and  your 
brother.  Our  lives  may  depend  upon  your  vigilance,  and 
there  is  to  be  no  waste  of  ammunition;  every  bullet  must 
strike  its  target.  Mary,"  he  added,  to  his  wife, ''you  and 
your  friends  will  keep  the  spare  guns  loaded,  and  finish 
what  the  boys  have  left  undone  at  the  fire.  I  do  not — 

"It  is  a  regular  army  that  has  come  upou  us, "Mr.  Pike 
interrupted.  "I  have  counted  not  less  than  forty  savages 
in  the  edge  of  the  thicket,  and  there  must  be  as  many  more 
on  either  side  of  the  house!" 

It  was  learned  later  that  the  enemy  numbered  a  hun- 
dred and  seventy,  all  well  armed. 

Ben  and  Arthur  were  peering  eagerly  out  through  loop- 
holes cut  on  each  side  of  the  shuttered  window,  and  the 
former  was  the  first  to  discharge  his  weapon. 

'•  I  saw  a  bead  over  the  top  of  the  stockade,"  he  said,  iu 
reply  to  his  father's  question. 

"Their  number  is  so  large  that  they  will  likely  put  on  a 
bolder  front  than  usual, "Mr.  Kilburue  muttered  to  himself, 
and  despite  the  strength  of  the  "garrison,"  he  felt  decided- 
ly anxious  regarding  the  result  of  the  attack. 

During  an  hour  the  men  and  boys  remained  on  watch, 
while  the  women  attended  to  their  portion  of  the  work, 


and  hardly  a  sound  was  heard,  save  when  the  brothers 
whispered  together.  After  the  first  shot  had  heen  fired 
the  enemy  remained  completely  hidden  iu  the  thicket 
which  surrounded  the  house. 

Then,  and  almost  at  the  same  instant,  each  of  the  watch- 
ers discharged  his  weapon.  On  either  side  of  the  stockade 

plui 1  heads  had  suddenly  come  into  view,  and  a  hundred 

bullets  struck  the  building. 

There  was  a  low  moan  from  that  portion  of  the  room 
where  Mr.  Kilburne  was  stationed;  but  owing  to  the  re- 
ports of  the  fire-arms,  it  was  not  heard  by  the  inmates. 

The  first  intimation  the  defenders  had  that  one  of  their 
number  had  fallen  under  the  heavy  fire  was  when  I'.i  n 
turned  to  take  up  the  spare  gnu  his  mother  had  placed  by 
his  side,  and  saw  his  father  lying  on  the  floor  with  a  thin 
stream  of  blood  issuing  from  his  lips. 

"Oh.  father!"  he  cried,  as  he  ran  toward  the  wounded 
man  ;  but  when  be  would  have  raised  the  dear  head  he  was 
motioned  away  : 

"Remember  your  mother,  my  boy!  Yon  can  do  me  no 
good,  and  now  there  is  additional  reason  why  yon  should 
not  neglect  your  duty." 

By  this  time  Mrs.  Killmrne  was  at  her  husband's  side, 
and  Ben  took  his  station  at  the  loop-hole  once  more ;  but 
the  tears  blinded  him,  until  it  became  necessary  to  brush 
them  away  before  he  could  see  the  feather-bedecked  bodies 
which  were  here  and  there  upon  the  stockade  ready  to 
leap  into  the  enclosure. 

During  the  next  half-hour  neither  of  the  boys  had  an 
opportunity  to  so  much  as  glance  toward  their  father. 
Should  the  enemy  succeed  in  getting  into  the  enclosure, 
the  result  might,  and  probably  would,  be  fatal  to  the  de- 
fenders of  the  house. 

John  Pike  made  valiant  battle,  nor  were  the  boys  lack- 
ing in  skill  and  courage.  More  than  one  of  the  foe  had 
met  death  before  he  could  leap  down  from  the  top  of  the 
stockade,  and  four  who  did  succeed  were  met  by  bullets 
«  hile  creeping  up  close  to  the  building,  where  the  timbers 
would  shelter  them  from  the  deadly  aim  of  those  within. 

After  this  desperate  struggle  there  was  a  lull  in  the 
storm  of  battle,  and  Arthur  said,  in  a  low  tone,  as  he  stood 
with  his  eye  to  the  loop-hole, 

"  Is  father  badly  wounded  .'" 

"  I  fear  so.  The  blood  was  gushing  from  his  mouth  when 
I  saw  him,  and  he — ' 

"I  will  take  your  place,  my  son,  while  you  bid  your  fa- 
ther good-by  for  evermore  in  this  world,"  Mrs.  Kilburne 
said,  in  a  voice  half  stifled  with  emotion,  as  she  pushed 
Ben  gently  aside. 

His  father  was  dying,  and  he  could  stop  only  for  an  in- 
stant to  receive  a  last  pressure  of  the  enfeebled  hands! 

When  Ben  returned  he  was  heroically  drying  bis  eyes, 
that  he  might  resume  his  duty  as  sentinel,  and  Mrs.  Kil- 
burne motioned  Arthur  to  follow  his  brother's  example. 

"It  is  hard  father  should  lie  the  one  sacrificed,"  J!eu 
said,  huskily,  to  his  mother,  not  able  to  glance  toward  her. 
"But  one  bullet  has  found  its  .way  into  the  building,  so 
Master  Pike  says,  and  that  entered  his  body,  instead  of 
mine." 

••  It  is  not  for  us  to  repine,  my  sou.  Remember  that  He 
doeth  all  things  well.  I  now  look  to  you  and  Arthur  for 
protection,  and  you  can  best  show  your  grief  by  doing  as 
your  father  would  have  yon  do  this  day." 

"I  wish  those,  painted  fiends  would  show  themselves 
again  ;  there  is  some  little  satisfaction  iu  shooting  them 
down." 

'•  Vengeance  should  not  be  iu  your  mind  at  this  moment. 
It  is  necessary  to  fight  that  our  lives  may  be  saved,  but 
only  for  such  purpose.  Revenge  will  not  lessen  the  blow 
or  soothe  your  father's  pain." 

Then  the  wife  was  by  her  husband's  side,  and  Arthur  at 
his  station  as  watcher. 

During  the  next  ten  minutes  the  sound  of  hatchets 
against  the  logs  of  the  stockade  could  be  heard,  and  then 
three  of  the  heavy  timbers  fell  inward. 

"  Now  stand  steady  !"  Pike  shouted.  "  They  will  make'  a 
rush,  expecting  to  overpower  us  by  press  of  numbers,  and 
we  must  be  prepared." 


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HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


RUNNING    OUT    QUICKLY    HE    FILLED    ONE    BUCKKT. 


The  two  boys  ran  to  that  side  of  the  house  which  was 
most  sorely  threatened,  and  had  hardly  gained  new  posi- 
tions when  the  assault  was  made. 

It  was  now  a  question  of  loading  and  discharging  their 
muskets  as  rapidly  as  possible,  only  delaying  sufficiently 
long  to  taUe  careful  aim,  and  when  half  an  hour  had  passed 
Ben  heard,  us  if  in  a  dream,  Mrs.  Pike  say  to  her  husband, 
as  she  banded  him  a  gun, 

"John  Kilburne  is  at  rest!" 

The  boy  bravely  forced  himself  to  forget,  for  the  time 
being,  the  sorrow  which  had  come  npou  him  ;  and  when  the 
conflict  was  hottest,  a  shrill  cry  of  pain  burst  from  John 
Pike's  lips  as  he  swayed  to  and  fro  an  instant,  and  then 
fell  backward  to  the  floor  dead. 

"Yon  and  I  must  do  the  work  of  four  now!"  Arthur 
cried,  as  if  thinking  his  brother  needed  encouragement. 
"Take  cure  of  that  fellow  near  your  corner;  once  he  is  on 
the  other  side  of  the  house  we  shall  be  smoked  out." 

A  musket-shot  was  the  answer,  and  as  the  stifling  cloud 
in  the  dwelling  was  increased  yet  more,  the  danger  pointed 
out  by  Arthur  had  been  dispelled. 

Now  Mrs.  Kilburue  was  at  one  of  the  loop-holes,  using 
her  husband's  weapon  with  wonderful  skill,  and  when  the 
enemy  beat  a  hasty  retreat,  unable  to  face  longer  the  dead- 
ly hail  poured  upon  them, she  said  to  her  brave  sons: 

"It  may  be  possible  we  have  driven  them  back." 

"Not  yet,"  Ben  replied,  gravely.  "There  are  so  many 
that  they  will  not  abandon  the  attack  now,  but  be  the 
more  eager  for  our  blood.  How  is  the  powder  holding 
out  ?" 

"Mrs.  Pike  was  bringing  another  keg  from  the  cellar 
wheu  her  husband  was  killed.  I  have  heard  your  father 
say  he  had  enough  in  the  house  to  withstand  a  siege  of  a 
week." 

"Two  of  the  oxen  are  dead,"  Arthur  cried,  as  he  looked 
hastily  through  one  of  the  apertures  at  the  rear  of  the 
house.  "  How  did  they  get  out  of  the  barn  ?  I  am  certain 
all  the  cattle  were  fastened  in  the  stalls  when  neighbor 
Pike  came." 

Ben  rushed  to  his  brother's  side. 

"  Some  of  the  Indians  have  gained  shelter  there !"  he 
cried,  nervously.  "  Go  back  to  mother,  and  I  will  watch 
here." 

He  had  hardly  spoken  when  three  savages  were  seen 
coming  cautiously  out  of  the  building,  and  again  the  dis- 
charge of  the  muskets  in  the  room  prevented  the  besieged 
from  hearing  any  movement  or  words  from  each  other. 


It  was  an  hour 
past  noon  when 
the  defenders  of 
the  "garrison"  had 
another  opportu- 
nity for  rest,  and 
then,  while  the  wo- 
men watched,  Ben 
and  Arthur  cooled 
the  heated  barrels 
of  the  muskets 
by  pouring  water 
through  them. 

Before  the  work 
had  been  com- 
pleted the  supply 
of  the  precious  li- 
quid was  exhaust- 
ed, and  without  an 
intimation  to  his 
mother  or  brother 
of  what  he  was 
about  to  do,  Beu 
unbarred  the  door. 
Running  out 

quickly,  he  filled 
one  bucket,  and 
was  in  the  act  of 
stepping  upon  the 
threshold,  when 
the  single  report 

of  a  gun   was  heard,  and  he  staggered  forward,  his  face 
growing  pale  beneath  the  grime  of  powder. 

Arthur  had  fastened  the  door  again  before  he  paid  any 
attention  to  his  brother,  and  then  with  heavy  heart  he 
stepped  to  the  side  of  his  mother,  who  was  cutting  oft'  the 
sleeve  of  the  coat,  which  was  red  with  blood. 

"  It  is  only  a  flesh-wound ;  bind  it  up  quickly,  and  I  will 
get  to  work  again," Ben  said,  with  an  effort  to  speak  cheer- 
ily. "Thinking  they  have  killed  another  of  us,  the  savages 
will  make  one  more  attempt  to  carry  the  house  by  storm." 
It  was  as  he  had  feared  ;  before  the  wound  was  properly 
bandaged  Arthur  and  Mrs.  Pike  were  firing  with  the  utmost 
rapidity,  and  Ben  joined  them  while  the  blood  was  yet  run- 
ning in  a  tiny  stream  down  his  side. 

This  time  the  enemy  displayed  more  courage,  and  were 
less  eager  to  shelter  themselves  against  the  shower  of  bul- 
lets. They  ran  directly  up  to  the  walls  of  the  house,  having 
made  their  way  through  the  break  in  the  stockade,  and  not 
until  nearly  sunset  did  the  two  boys  and  their  mother  have 
an  opportunity  to  cease  from  the  struggle. 

During  this  time  Mrs.  Pike  and  her  sisters  did  their  full 
share  of  the  work  by  cooling  the  spare  guns,  reloading  the 
weapons  as  rapidly  as  they  were  discharged,  or  darting 
from  one  unprotected  loop-hole  to  another  to  make  certain 
the  savages  were  not  adopting  new  tactics,  and  in  a  corner 
of  the  room  lay  the  lifeless  bodies  of  the  two  victims. 

The  desperation  with  which  the  defenders  of  the  house 
had  fought  was  shown  by  the  bodies  of  the  enemy  strewn 
between  the  stockade  and  the  building. 

Of  the  hundred  and  seventy  which  made  the  attack, 
thirty-one  had  paid  forfeit  with  their  lives,  or  been  so  griev- 
ously wounded  as  to  be  unable  to  regain  shelter,  and  that 
there  were  many  more,  beyond  view  of  the  defenders,  who. 
were  wounded  seemed  probable. 

The  boys  fully  expected  the  most  desperate  hour  would 
come  after  the  earth  was  wrapped  in  darkness,  but  in  this 
they  were  mistaken. 

Vigilant  watch  was  kept  by  all  in  the  dwelling,  but  only 
now  and  again  could  an  Indian  be  seen,  and  then  as  he 
was  dragging  away  the  bodies  of  his  fellows 

When  the  sun  rose  next  morning  no  sign  of  the  enemy 
could  be  seen.  The  dead  had  been  removed,  and  the  song 
of  birds  in  the  thicket  told  that  no  intruder  was  concealed 
by  the  foliage. 

The  savages  believed  the  "  garrison  "  had  more  defenders 
than  they  at  first  supposed,  and  had  beat  a  retreat  when 
only  two  boys  and  four  women  were  opposed  against  them. 


744 


OAKLEIGH. 


15  Y   EL  LEX  DOUGLAS   DELAXD. 


DO  yo 
Fra, 


CHAPTER    V. 

you  tbink  they  will  really  like  me  ?"  asked  Mrs. 
•"ranklin  for  the  hiindreiltli  time,  ami  fur  the  huu- 
drnltli  time  her  husband  answered,  smiling,  "J  think  they 
really  will." 

They  were  just  arriving  at  Brenton.  Many  inquiring 
eyes  had  been  turned  towards  them  iu  the  train,  for  every 
one  knew  John  Franklin,  and  every  one  surmised  at  ouce 
that  this  was  the  much-discussed  second  wife. 

It  was  decided  by  those  who  saw  her  that  she  was  a 
very  attractive-looking  woman.  She  was  rather  slight  and 
of  medium  height,  and  she  was  quietly  dressed  in  black, 
for  she  was  in  mouriiiug.  Though  not  actually  pretty,  she 
had  a  charming  and  very  expressive  face,  and  she  was  very 
young-looking.  Somebody  who  sat  in  front  of  her  said 
that  her  voice*was  low  and  very  musical. 

Brenton  decided  at  the  first  glance  that  Mr.  John  Frank- 
lin had  done  very  well  for  himself. 

••  There  is  the  carriage,"  said  he,  as  they  crossed  the  sta- 
tion platform. 

••  And  this  is  Jack,  I  am  sure,"  said  his  wife,  holding  out 
her  hand  with  a  smile  which  won  her  step-son  on  the  spot. 
He  was  too  shy,  lion  ever,  to  do  more  than  grasp  it  warmly 
as  lie  stood  beside  her  with  uncovered  head. 

"  He,  is  a  dear,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  and  just  like  John. 
If  only  the  others  are  as  cordial.  Somehow  I  dread 
Edith." 

She  was  quite  as  ex- 
cited as  were  her  step- 
daughters when  she  drove 
up  the  avenue,  and  her 
e\  es  fell  for  the  first  time 
upon  the  group  on  the  pi- 
azza. 

Cynthia  walked  down 
the  path  to  meet  her,  hold- 
ing Janet  and  Willy  by 
either  hand.  Edith  re- 
mained standing  ou  the 
step. 

"  How  do  you  do  ?"  said 
Cynthia,  with  a  cordial 
smile. 

Mrs.  Franklin  looked 
at  her.  Then  she  put 
her  arms  around  her  and 
kissed  her. 

"This  is  Cynthia,  I  am 
SUIT. "she  whispered,  trem- 
ulously, "and  these  are 
'  the  children.'" 

She  kissed  them  and 
passed  on  to  her  hus- 
band's eldest  daughter, 
while  they  greeted  their 
father. 

Edith  was  very  tall,  aud 
her  position  on  the  step 
gave  her  the  advantage 
of  several  inches  in  addi- 
tion. She  fairly  towered 
above  the  new-comer. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mrs. 
Franklin?"  she  said,  hold- 
ing out  a  very  stiff  hand 
and  arm.  She  had  made 
np  her  mind  that  she  for 
one  would  not  be  kiss- 
ed. 

"  And  are  you  Edith  ?" 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Franklin.  I 
am  Edith.  I  hope  your 
journey  has  not  tired 
you?" 


"  Not  at  all.     I  am  not.  easily  tired." 

Edith  kissed  her  father,  then  turned  again  to  the  stranger. 

"  Let  me  show  you  the  way  upstairs." 

And  thus  Mrs.  Franklin  entered  her  new  home. 

"  I  am  afraid  it  is  going  to  be  war  with  Edith  at  lir.-t, 
but  1  won't  be  disheartened,"  she  thought.  "I'll  make 
her  like  me.  It  is  natural  for  her  to  feel  so,  I  suppose. 
Ah  me,  I  am  in  a  difficult  position." 

Edith  and  Cynthia  shared  the  same  room.  It  was  a 
large  one  with  a  bay-window,  which  commanded  a  fine 
view  of  the  winding  river  and  the  meadows  beyond. 

One  could  tell  at  a  glance  upon  entering  the  room  which 
part  of  it  Edith  occupied,  and  which  Cynthia.  Cynthia's 
dressing-table,  with  its  ungainly  pin-cushion,  its  tangle  of 
ribbons  and  neckties  tossed  down  anywhere  that  they 
might  happen  to  fall,  its  medley  of  horseshoes,  tennis 
balls,  aud  other  treasures,  was  a  constant  source  of  trial  to 
Edith,  whose  possessions  were  always  kept  in  perfect  neat- 
ness. Sbe  scolded  and  lectured  her  sister  in  vain  ;  Cyn- 
thia was  incorrigible. 

"It's  too  much  bother  to  keep  things  in  order,"  she 
would  say.  "After  you  have  been  around  with  your 
<luster  and  vour  •  tixings-up  I  never  can  find  a  thing, 
Edith." 

The  night  of  Mrs.  Franklin's  arrival  they  talked  over  the 
new  state  of  family  affairs. 


DON'T    LIKE    HEK,  AND    I    WONT!" 


745 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"I  think  she  is  nice,'' snid  Cynthia,  witli  decision.  "I 
like  her,  and  so  does  Jack." 

She  was  perched  on  the  side  of  the  bed,  leaning  against 
the  tall  post,  her  favorite  position  when  she  had  anything 
of  especial  interest  to  discuss. 

"  I  don't,"  said  Edith,  who  was  brushing  out  her  long 
hair  with  great  vigor.  "  I  don't  like  her,  and  I  won't ."' 

"That  is  just  it,  Edith.  You  have  made  up  your  mind 
you  won't  like  her  just  because  you  didn't  want  her  to 
come.  Now  she  is  here,  why  don't  you  make  the  best  of 
it  ?  What  do  you  dislike  about  her?" 

"Her  coming  here.    She  had  no  right  to." 

"Edith,  how  silly  yon  are!  She  wouldn't  have  come  if 
papa  had  not  asked  her,  and  she  wouldn't  have  if  she  had 
not  loved  papa.  I  should  think  you  would  like  her  for 
that  if  nothing  else.  I  do.  And  she  is  pretty  and  sweet 
and  dear,  and  I  am  going  to  help  her  all  I  can.  I  think  I 
shall  even  call  her  '  mamma.' " 

"Cynthia.,  I  shall  never  do  that.  Never,  to  my  dying 
(lay !» 

"Well,  I  shall ;  that  is,  if  she  doesn't  mind." 

"She  will.     It  will  make  her  seem  too  old." 

"I  don't  believe  she  would  mind  that,  and  any  one  can 
see  she  isn't  a  bit  old.  I  think  we  are  very  fortunate,  as 
long  as  papa  was  going  to  marry  again,  to  have  him  tind 
such  a  nice,  lovely  woman. 

Edith  did  not  reply.  She  finished  her  braid  and  tied  it 
up.  Then  she  said  : 

"Of  course,  it  is  a  great  deal  harder  for  me  than  for  the 
rest  of  you.  I  thought  I  was  always  going  to  help  father, 
and  now  1  can't." 

"Of  course  it's  hard,  Edith,  but — but  don't  you  think 
you  could  still  help  him  if — if  you  were  nice  to  his  wife?" 

"I  don't  want  to  help  him  that  way,"  said  Edith,  hon- 
estly, as  she  blew  out  the  light. 

The  next  day  when  Cynthia  asked  somewhat  timidly  if 
she  might  call  her  step -mother  "  mamma,"  she  was  sur- 
prised and  touched  by  the  expression  that  came  into  Mrs. 
Franklin's  face. 

"Oh,  thank  you,  Cynthia!"  she  said.  "I  thought  I 
would  not  ask  yon,  I  would  just  leave  it  to  you,  but  I 
should  like  it  so  much." 

And  so  they  all  called  her  by  her  new  title  except  Edith. 

Preparations  for  the  tennis  tournament  were  in  full 
swing,  and  Cynthia  and  Jack,  who  were  to  play  together 
in  mixed  doubles,  were  practising  hard. 

The  court  at  Oakleigh  was  not  a  good  one,  so  they 
were  in  the  habit  of  going  to  the  tennis  club  at  the  village 
when  they  could  get  there  in  the  afternoon.  It  was  not 
always  easy,  for  they  were  short  of  horses,  and  it  was  too 
far  to  walk  both  ways. 

"Why  do  we  not  have  some  more  horses?"  said  Mrs. 
Franklin  one  morning  when  the  question  was  being  dis- 
cussed. 

"Why,  we  can't  atford  to,"  replied  Cynthia,  in  some 
surprise.  "  Besides  the  farm  horses  we  only  have  two, 
you  know,  and  they  get  all  used  up  going  to  and  from 
the  village  so  much." 

Mrs.  Franklin  glanced  at  her  husband.  Then  she  said, 
"It  seems  as  if  we  ought  to  have  more.  You  know, 
John,  there  is  all  that  money  of  mine.  Why  not  buy  a 
horse  and  trap  for  the  children  to  use?" 

"My  dear  Hester,  I  can  never  consent.  You  know  I  wish 
you  to  keep  all  your  money  for  your  own  exclusive  use. 
You  may  have  all  the  horses  you  want  for  yourself,  but — 

"John,  don't  be  absurd.  What  can  I. do  with  all  that 
money,  and  no  one  but  Neal  to  provide  for?  Your  chil- 
dren are  mine  now,  and  I  wish  them  to  have  a  horse  of 
their  own." 

The  thing  of  all  others  for  which  Edith  had  been  long- 
ing for  years.  But  she  determined  that  she  would  never 
use  her  step-mother's  gift. 

"Is  Neal  your  brother?"  asked  Cynthia. 

"Yes.  Haven't  I  told  you  about  him?  He  is  my  dear 
and  only  brother.  He  is  off  on  a  yacht  now,  but  hi-  is 
coming  here  soon.  He  is  older  than  you  and  Jack,  just 
about  Edith's  age." 

Jack  looked  up  with  interest. 


"I'm  glad  there's  another •  fellow  coming,"  he  said. 
"There  are  almost  too  many  girls  around  here." 

"Jack,  how  hateful  of  you,  when  you  always  have  said 
I  was  as  good  as  another  fellow!"  exclaimed  C'ynthia. 

"Well,  so  you  are,  almost;  but  I'm  glad  he's  coming, 
anyway." 

The  new  horse  was  bought,  and  a  pretty  and  comfort- 
able cart  for  them  to  use,  a  "  surrey  "  that  would  hold  two 
or  fiiur,  as  occasion  required.  At  h'rst  Edith  would  not 
use  it.  She  jogged  about  with  the  old  horse  and  buggy 
when  she  went  to  the  village,  thereby  exciting  much  com- 
ment among  her  friends.  Every  one  suspected  that  Edith 
could  not  reconcile  herself  to  the  coming  of  her  step- 
mother. 

The  day  of  the  tournament  arrived.  Ho  fore  Mr.  Frank- 
lin went  to  Boston  that  morning  he  called  Edith  into  the 
library  and  closed  the  door. 

"  I  have  something  to  say  to  you,  Edith.  I  have  been 
perfectly  observant  of  your  conduct  since  I  came  home, 
though  I  have  not  spoken  of  it  before.  I  preferred  to 
wait,  to  give  you  a  chance  to  think  better  of  it.  Your 
treatment  of  my  wife  is  not  only  rude,  it  is  unkind,  as 
rudeness  always  is." 

"  Father,  I  haven't  been  rude.  Why  do  you  speak  to 
me  so?  It  is  all  her  fault.  She  has  made  you  do  it." 

"  Hester  has  not  mentioned  the  subject  to  me,  Edith. 
You  are  most  unjust.  You  are  making  yourself  very  con- 
spicuous, and  are  placing  me  in  a  very  false  light  by  your 
behavior.  Are  you  going  to  the  tennis  tournament  to-day  ?" 

"  Yes,  papa." 

"How  do  you  intend  to  get  there?" 

"Drive  myself  in  the  buggy,  of  course." 

"There  is  no  'of  course'  about  it,"  said  her  father, 
growing  more  and  more  angry.  "If  you  go,  you  will  go 
as  the  others  do,  in  the  surrey.  I  will  not  have  them  go 
down  ATI th  an  empty  seat,  while  you  rattle  in  to  the 
grounds  in  the  old  buggy  in  the  eyes  of  all  Brentou." 

"Then  I  won't  go  at  all.  The  buggy  was  good  enough 
before  ;  why  isn't  it  now  ?" 

"Not  another  word!  I  am  ashamed  of  yon,  Edith,  and 
disappointed.  I  have  no  time  for  more,  but  remember 
what  I  have  said.  You  go  in  the  surrey  to  the  tourna- 
ment, or  yon  stay  at  home." 

He  left  her  and  hurried  off  to  the  train.  Edith  went  to 
her  own  room  and  shut  herself  in.  For  more  than  an  hour 
a  bitter  fight  raged  within  her.  Her  pride  was  up  in  arms. 

If  she  gave  up  and  drove  to  the  club  in  the  surrey,  every 
one  would  know  that  she  was  countenancing  her  step- 
mother, as  she  expressed  it,  and  she  had  told  Gertrude 
Morgan  that  she  would  never  do  it.  If  she  staid  at  home 
she  would  excite  more  comment  still,  for  it  was  generally 
known  that  she  was  to  act  as  one  of  the  hostesses,  and  she 
had  no  reasonable  excuse  to  offer  for  staying  away. 

Altogether  Edith  thought  herself  a  much-abused  person, 
and  she  cried  until  her  eyes  were  swollen,  her  cheeks  pale, 
and  her  nose  red. 

Cynthia  burst  in  upon  her. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Edith?  You  look  like  a  perfect 
fright!  Are  you  ill?" 

"111!  No,  of  course  not.  I  wish  you  would  leave  me 
in  peace,  Cynthia.  What  do  you  want?" 

"To  come  into  my  own  room,  of  course.  But  what  is 
the  matter,  Edith  ?  Was  papa  scolding  you  ?" 

Edith,  longing  for  sympathy,  poured  out  the  story,  but 
she  did  not  receive  much  from  that  practical  young  person. 

"I  wouldn't  cry  my  eyes  out  about  that.  Of  course  you 
will  have  to  do  as  papa  says,  or  he  won't  like  it  at  alL 
And  it  is  a  thousand  times  nicer  to  drive  in  the  surrey 
than  that  old  rattle-trap  of 'a  buggy.  The  surrey  runs  so 
smoothly,  and  Boss  goes  like  a  breeze.  You  had  better  give 
in  gracefully,  Edith.  But  see  this  lovely  silver  buckle  and 
belt  mamma  has  just  given  me  to  wear  this  afternoon. 
Isn't  it  perfect?  She  says  she  has  more  than  she  ran 
wear.  It  was  one  of  her  own.  /  think  she's  a  dear.  But 
there  is  Jack  calling  me  to  practise." 

And  happy-hearted  Cynthia  was  off  again  like  a  flash. 

Edith  bathed  her  face  and  began  to  think  better  of  the 
subject.  After  all,  she  would  go.  It  was  a  lovely  day, 


746 


HARPER'S   HOUND   TABLE 


every  one  would  be  there,  and  it  was  not  worth  while  to 
make  people  talk.  Above  all,  she  would  be  sorry  to  miss 
the  affair  to  which  she  had  l>eeu  looking'  forward  for  weeks. 

She  dressed  herself  that  afternoon  in  a  simple  gingham 
that  bad  seen  the  wash-tub  many  times,  and  took  her  place 
on  the  back  seat  of  the  surrey,  with  Mrs.  Franklin,  Jack 
and  Cynthia  sitting  in  front.  Mrs.  Franklin  was  in  the 
daintiest  of  summer  frocks,  and  Kdith  glanced  at  her  some- 
what enviously. 

"I  wish  we  were  the  ones  that  had  the  money,"  she 
thought,  "  and  that  she  were  poor.  I  believe  then  I  should 
not  mind  having  her  so  much." 

Mrs.  Franklin  had  a  gay  and  cheery  disposition,  and  she 
tried  to  pay  no  attention  to  Edith's  coldness. 

"I  wish  I  were  going  to  play  myself,"  she  said 

"Why,  do  yon  play?"  asked  Cynthia,  in  surprise. 

"To  be  sure  I  do.  I  used  to  play  a  great  deal  at.  one 
time.  I  mean  to  ask  your  father  to  have  the  tennis-court 
at  Oakleigh  made  over,  and  then  we  can  have  some  games 
there." 

"How  jolly!"  exclaimed  Jack  and  Cynthia  together. 

"We  cannot  afford  to,1'  put  in  Kdith,  coldly. 

Mrs.  Franklin  paid  n-o  attention  to  this.  "It  will  be 
nice  when  Neal  comes,"  she  added. 

"Neal,  always  Neal,"  .thought  Edith.  "Pleasant  for  us 
to  have  a  strange  boy  here  all  the  time.  Oh,  dear,  how 
hateful  I  am!  I  don't  feel  nice  towards  anybody.  If  only 
papa  had  never  seen  or  heard  of  the  Gordons,  how  much 
happier  we  should  all  have  been." 

But  she  was  the  only  one  of  the  household  that  thought 
so.  The  younger  children  had  been  completely  won  ovei', 
and  it  was  a  constant  source  of  surprise  and  chagrin  to 
Edith  to  see  how  easily  their  step-mother  managed  the' 
hitherto  refractory  pair. 

Before  long  the  party  reached  the  grounds.  The  Bren- 
ton  Tennis  Club  was  a  very  attractive  place.  The  smooth 
and  well-kept  courts  stretched  away  to  the  river,  which 
wound  and  curved  towards  the  old  town,  for  the  club  was 
on  the  outskirts  of  the  village.  The  river  was  wider  here 
than  it  was  farther  up  at  Oakleigh,  and  picturesque  stone 
bridges  crossed  it  at  intervals. 

Benches  had  been  placed  all  about  the  grounds,  from 
which  the  spectators  conld  watch  the  game,  ami  under  a 
marquee  was  a  dainty  table,  with  huge  bowls  of  lemonade 
and  plates  of  cake.  Edith  presided  at  the  tea-kettle,  look- 
ing very  pretty,  notwithstanding  her  old  gown  and  the 
stormy  morning  she  had  passed. 

Mrs.  Franklin,  upon  whom  most  of  the  Brentou  people 
had  already  called,  sat  on  one  of  the  benches  with  some 
friends,  and  was  soon  absorbed  in  the  game. 

Cynthia  played  well.  She  Hew  about  the  court,  here, 
there,  everywhere  at  once,  never  interfering  with  her  part- 
ner's game,  lint  always  ready  with  her  own  play.  She  and 
Jack,  though  younger  than  the  other  players,  held  their 
ground  well. 

It  was  only  a  small  tournament,  and  "mixed  doubles" 
were  finished  np  in  one  afternoon,  Jack  and  Cynthia  carry- 
ing off  second  prizes  with  great  glee. 

"Just  what  I  wanted,  mamma,"  said  Cynthia,  as  she  dis- 
played a  line  racket  of  the  latest  style  and  shape  ;  "  I  hope 
they  will  have  another  tournament  before  the  summer  is 
over,  so  that  I'll  have  a  chance  to  win  first  prize  with  this 
new  racket." 

They  were  driving  home  in  the  dusk,  for  the  game  had 
lasted  late,  when  they  overtook  and  passed  a  boy  who  was 
walking  on  the  road  to  Oakleigh,  with  a  bag  slung  over  his 
shoulder  on  a  stick,  while  a  black  spaniel  trotted  along  at 
his  heels.  Mrs.  Franklin  did  not  see  him. 

"  I  say  there,  Hessie!  Can't  you  give  a  fellow  a  lift?" 
he  shouted. 

"Why,  Neal!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Franklin  ;  "where  did  you 
come  from?  Jack,  stop,  please.  It  is  Neal!  Yon  dear 
boy,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  yon  !  This  is  my  brother,  children  ; 
and,  Neal,  here  are  Edith,  Cynthia,  and  Jack  Franklin." 

"Whew,  what  a  lot!  I  say,  Hessie,  what  were  you 
thinking  of  when  you  married  such  a  family  as  that?  But 
I  fancy  you  haven't  got  room  for  me  in  there.  I  can  walk 
it  easilv  enough.  Don't  mind  a  bit." 


"Nonsense!  we  can  squeeze  up,"  said  his  sister,  which 
they  did  forthwith,  and  Neal  Gordon  climbed  into  the 
cart. 

"  No  room  for  yon,  Bob,"  he  remarked  to  the  spaniel,  who 
danced  about  the  road  in  a  vain  endeavor  to  follow  his 
master;  "yon  can  go  ahead  on  your  own  legs." 

He  was  a  tall,  well- developed  fellow,  with  a  hearty, 
cheery  voice,  and  a  frank,  sometimes  embarrassing,  way  of 
saying  the  first  thing  that  came  into  his  head. 

"  What  a  crowd!"  he  continued.      "Any  more  at  home  *" 

"  Yes,  two,"  said  his  sister,  gayly — "  Janet  and  Willy.  I 
am  so  glad  you  have  come,  Neal.  But  why  didn't  you  let 
us  know  ?" 

"Couldn't.  The  Dulphin  put  in  at  Marblehead,  and  I 
had  gotten  rather  tired  of  it  aboard,  so  I  thought  I'd  cut 
IOCIM'  and  drop  down  on  yon  awhile.  Got  out  of  cash  too." 

"Oh,  Neal!" 

"Now  you  needn't  say  anything.  Yon  didn't  give  me 
half  enough  this  time.  Too  much  absorbed  getting  mar- 
ried, 1  suppose.  I  say,"  he  added,  turning  to  Jack,  "what 
kind  of  a  step-ma  does  Hessie  make?" 

"Bully,"  replied  Jack,  laconically. 

"I  thought  she  would,  but  she's  on  her  best  behavior 
now.  She'll  order  you  all  round  soon,  the  way  she  does 
me." 

"  They  don't  deserve  it  as  you  do,  yon  silly  boy,"  said  his 
sister. 

They  were  a  merry  party  that  night  at  supper.  It 
seemed  as  if  Neal  would  be  a  great  addition  to  the  family, 
anil  even  p'dith  thawed  somewhat.  This  pleased  Mr. 
Franklin,  who  had  been  thoroughly  annoyed  by  her  be- 
havior, and  who  had  been  really  afraid  that  she  would 
stay  at  home  from  the  tournament  rather  than  use  his 
wife's  gilt. 

"  Everything  will  run  smoothly  now,"  he  said  to  himself, 
and,  manlike,  lie  soon  fin-got  all  about  the  trouble. 

"  By-the-way,  what  relation  am  I  to  this  family  f  asked 
Neal,  presently.  "If  Hester  is  your  mother,  of  course  I 
must  be  your  uncle.  I  hope  yon  will  all  treat  me  with 
proper  respect." 

"I  hope  we  shall  be  able  to,"  said  Cynthia,  looking  up 
with  a  saucy  smile.  She  liked  the  new-comer  immensely. 

"Did  you  ever  run  an  incubator;"  asked  Jack,  after 
supper. 

"Not  I.     Have  yon  got  one  '!" 

"  Yes.      Come  along  down  and  see  it.' 

They  descended  to  the  cellar,  and  Jack  turned  the  eggs 
while  he  explained  his  methods  to  his  new  friend. 

"Is  there  money  in  it  f" asked  Neal. 

"Lots,  I  hope.  But  the  trouble  is,  you've  got  to  spend 
a  lot  to  start  with,  and  if  you're  not  successful  it's  a  dead 
loss.  My  first  hatch  went  to  smash." 

"How  would  yon  like  to  take  me  into  partnership?  I 
want  to  make  some  money." 

"  First-rate." 

They  were  deep  in  a  discussion  of  business  arrangements 
when  they  went  back  to  the  others. 

"We'll  make  a  'go'  of  it,"  said  Neal.  "It's  just  the 
thing  I've  been  looking  tor." 

"I  have  an  idea,  Jack,"  said  Mrs.  Franklin,  as  they  came 
in.  "When  are  the  chickens  to  come  out  ?" 

"  Next  Thursday." 

"Then  we  will  celebrate  the  event  in  proper  style.  We 
will  ask  our  friends  to  come  to  a  '  hatching  bee.'  " 

"But  suppose  they  don't,  hatch  ?  Suppose  they  act  the 
way  they  did  before?"  said  Jack,  dubiously. 

"Oh,  they'll  hatch,  I  will  answer  for  them.  You  have 
learned  how  to  take  better  care  of  them,  and  no  one  has 
interfered,  and  —  oh,  I  am  sure  they  will  be  out  in  fine 
shape !" 

Only  Edith  objected  to  this  proposition,  and  she  dan  il 
not  say  so  before  her  father. 

Apparently  the  Gordons  were  going  to  carry  all  before 
them,  and  she,  who  until  so  recently  had  been  to  all  in- 
tents and  purposes  the  mistress  of  the  house,  was  not  even 
asked  if  she  approved  of  the  idea.  She  went  to  bed  feeling 
that  her  lot  was  a  very  hard  one. 

|  TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


747 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


WHEN   ROYALTY    TRAVELS. 

BY   WILLIAM   IIEMMINGWAY. 

TO  live  like  a  king  is  all  very  well,  but  to  travel  like 
oue — may  we  all  be  delivered  from  such  a  fate!     The 
modern   monarch   Hits   from   his  palace  like   the  pheasant 
from  bis  covert.     True,  the  hunter  may  not  pot  him  this 
time,  but  the  danger  of  being  killed  is  very  great,  and  the 
king,  like  the  golden-lined  bird,  knows  that  many 
of  his  brothers  have  fallen  before  the  destroyer, 
who  is  constantly  ou  the  alert.     Pheasants  may 
be  sliot  only  during  certain  weeks,  but  anarchists 
never  cease  devising  and  trying  new  ways  of  king- 
killing. 

Whenever  a  monarch  starts  on  a  journey  he  is 
haunted  by  the  belief  that  the  anarchists  must 
have  found  out  all  about  it  beforehand  in  their 
usual  way,  and  that  they  are  busy  with  plots  for 
his  destruction.  Even  Queen  Victoria,  that  best- 
beloved  wearer  of  a  crown,  is  bound  to  use 
as  many  precautions  as  the  Czar  of  Russi 
common  traveller 
has  so  much  to  be 
thankful  for  at  the 
end  of  a  journey  as  a 
safely  arrived  mon- 
arch. It  is  much 
pleasauter  to  be  a 
President  of  the 
United  States,  pay 
your  own  fare,  and 
feel  afraid  of  nobody. 

When  the  Queen 
of  Great  Britain 
starts  for  Windsor  or 
Balmoral,  or  on  any 
other  railway  jour- 
ney, a  time  is  chosen 
that  will  cause  the 
least  inconvenience 
to  traffic  ;  for  the  in- 
variable rule  is  that 
no  other  trains  may 
run  over  the  road 
the  Queen  is  using. 
AH  the  switches  are 
locked.  Preceded  and 
followed  by  gallop- 
ing troopers  of  the 
Household  Guard, 
the  Queen's  carriage 
is  driven  to  the  rail- 
way station  at  a  fu- 
rious pace.  No  one 
— I  mean  no  ordinary 
person  —  knows  the 
hour  at.  which  she 
vi  ill  start  or  the 
streets  through 

which  she  will  go. 
The  special  royal 
train  is  waiting  at 
the  platform,  and  the 
royal  carriage  goes 

whirling  toward  it  through  the  most  unexpected  streets. 
Every  loyal  Briton  loves  to  show  his  love  for  her  Majesty 
by  a  hearty  roar,  lint  no  one  has  a  chance  to  cheer  her  on 
her  travels.  There  is  a  distant  clatter  of  hoofs;  it  comes 
nearer,  and  yon  hear  the  rattling  of  sabres  and  whir  of 
wheels.  A  blur  of  redcoats  and  nodding  pinnies  shoots 
past,  and  the  hoof-beats  are  dying  in  the  distance  before 
yon  can  say,  "  There  goes  the  Queen." 

Of  course  the  royal  coach  goes  at  a  sedate  pace  during 
a  royal  progress  or  parade.  Then  there  are  more  soldiers 
along  the  streets  than  you  or  I  could  count,  and  the  Queen 
appears  bowing  in  her  open  carriage  of  state,  with  all  her 
outriders  and  officers  and  guards  and  the  burly  English 
footmen  and  Scotch  gillies  necessary  tor  display. 


1 

rr 

JNUHfcf 
<. 


211 

lltrn 


'THERE    OOES    THE    QUEEN." 


When  the  Queen  of  Great  Britain   and  Ireland  and  F.tn- 
press  of  India  travels   she   occupies  her  own   special  car. 
A  special  locomotive  is  reserved  for  her.  and  it  is  run  by  a 
special  engineer,  always  the  most  experienced  man  in  the 
company's    service.      Ou    the   London    and    Southwestern 
Railway,  for   example,  engine  No.  575   draws  the  Queen's 
car.     Thomas  Higgs,  a  tine,  keen-eyed  old  Briton,  an   en- 
gineer for  nearly  forty  years,  holds  the  lever  and  the  throt- 
tle.    It  is  his  boast 
that  during  this  long 
period  of  service  not 
oue    of  his  millions 
i       of    passengers     has 
ever  been  killed.  Not 
one  even    has   been 
injured.     lie  is  more 
careful     than     ever 
when  her  Majesty  is 
aboard.         Between 
\Vindsor     and    Gos- 
port  alone  there  are 
fifteen        junctions, 
and     every    one     of 
these    is    a   possible 
danger-spot.      A   pi- 
lot train  runs  a  short 
distance  in  advance 
of  the  Queen's  spe- 
cial   to    make    sure 
that  the  way  is  clear, 
and    that    the  track 
has  not  beeu  put  out 
of  order. 

The     interior     of 
the    Queen's     car    is 
furnished    after    the 
fashion    of  the  white  drawing-room  at 
Windsor  Castle.     There  are  white  silk 
cushions,  embroidered  with  the  initials 
V.R.  (  f'ictoria   Keginn),  and  the  Garter 
and  its  motto,  all  in  gold  thread.     The 
carpet  is  of  velvet.     The  curtains  at  the 
windows  are  hung  on  silver  poles,  and 
the  door-handles  are  plated  with-  gold.     The 
Queen's  own  comfortable  arm-chair  is  at  the 
rear  of  the  saloon  and  faces  the  engiue,  and 
there    are    three    other   arm-chairs.      The 
walls  of  the  car  (Englishmen  call  it  a  "car- 
riage") are   of  polished    satin -wood.     The 
whole  car  cost  about  $35,000.    The  Queen  and 
her  suite  are  furnished  with  special  time-ta- 
bles printed  in  purple   ink  on  white  satin, 
adorned  with  the  royal    arms    and    an  em- 
bossed border  of  gold.     In  winter  the  car  is 
heated  with  hot-water  pipes,  and  in  summer 
it   is   cooled    by    an    extra   rooting    of   wet 
cloths,  which   are    frequently   soaked    with 
very  cold  water,  and  by  blocks  of  ice  placed 
in  the  interior  of  the  car. 

If  by  auy  chance  the  railroad  journey  in- 
cludes a  night  of  travel,  her  Majesty  .sleeps 
in  her  own  bed  in  her  car.  The  Prince  of 
Wales  has  a  private  car  too,  but  he  often 
travels  in  an  ordinary  first -class  coach. 
Whenever  it  becomes  known — such  things  will  leak  out 
at  times — that  the  Queen  or  the  Prince  is  travelling  over 
the  line,  great  crowds  gather  at  the  stations  and  hurl 
cheer  after  cheer  at  the  royal  train.  This  is  much  nicer 
than  the  Russian  style  of  hurling  something  explosive. 

The  King  and  Queen  of  1'ortugal  have  a  train  of  three 
special  cars  that  were  built  for  them  in  France  upon 
American  plans.  This  shows  what  wide-awake,  intelligent 
persons  the  King  and  Queen  of  Portugal  are.  They  are 
not  particularly  afraid  of  dynamiters  or  any  other  kind 
of  assassins,  and  although  poor — among  kings — they  man- 
age to  have  a  fairly  good  time  on  wheels. 

In  planning  the  royal  train  King  Charles  of  Portugal 
went  so  far  in  his  Americanism  as  to  demand  vestibuled 


748 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


platforms.  Of  course,  any  one  may  ride  in  a  vestibuled 
train  in  our  country  by  simply  paying  a  few  dollars,  but 
in  Europe  it  talies  a  king  of  strong  will  power  to  obtain 
such  luxury. 

The  royal  train  of  Portugal  consists  of  a  dining-car,  a 
car  fur  the  royal  ministers, etc., and  the  car  especially  re- 
served for  the  King  and  Qut-eu.  All  three  are  of  the  size 
and  general  appearance  of  high-class  American  cars.  Out- 
side their  color  is  a  dark  rich  green,  relieved  with  tracings 
of  gold  and  red.  The  escutcheon  of  the  royal  arms  of  Por- 
tugal is  painted  iu  the  middle  of  each  side.  The  dimug- 
car  is  fitted  up  in  the  style  of  Louis  XV.  The  table  can 
be  folded  and  put  away  when  not  in  use.  The  interior  or- 
namentation of  carved  oak,  amaranth,  citron-wood,  etc.,  is 
very  rich  iudeed.  Next  to  the  dining-room  is  the  smoking 
salon,  where  the  King,  or  even  Queen  Amelia,  may  relieve 
the  monotony  of  travel  with  a  cigarette. 

There  are  four  sleeping-rooms  in  the  royal  car  besides 
rooms  for  the  attendants.  The  most  remarkable  thing 
about  this  car  is  the  dais  and  divan  at  one  end  of  the  salon. 
No  one  may  sit  on  this  raised  divan  but  the  King  or  the 
Queen.  A  drapery  of  silk  velvet  forms  the  background. 
Above  the  back  of  the  divan  the  royal  arms  are  carved. 
Probably  it  diverts  bis  Majesty's  mind  to  sit  here  on  high 
now  and  then  while  journeying  and  call  his  ministers 


showed  himself  a  brave  man  by  going  to  the  aid  of  the 
wounded  as  soon  as  he  could  climb  out  of  the  wreck.  All 
the  ears  iii  the  train  were  of  wood. 

The  new  train  of  1H89  was  made  of  wood  too,  but  the  ears 
were  armored.  The  outside  of  each  car  was  of  heavy  iron, 
in.-iile  of  which  was  a  layer  of  eight  inches  of  cork.  All  of 
the  four  ears  in  the  tiain  were  exactly  alike  outwardly,  so 
that  ;i  nihilist  would  find  it  hard  to  pick  out  the  Czar's  car 
should  he  by  any  accident  get  within  shooting  distance. 
When  the  Czar  travelled  he  often  spent  his  time  in  a  car 
that  was  so  built  and  painted  as  to  look  like  a  baggage-car 
from  the  outside.  When  the  Czar  visited  Emperor  Wil- 
liam III.,  at  Berlin,  iu  October,  1889,  six  Russian  \\orknicn 
put  gratings  of  wrought-iron  at  the  tops  and  bottoms  of 
all  the  chimneys  of  the  old  Schloss  and  palace  at  Potsdam, 
which  the  Czar  occupied.  This  was  to  keep  out  nihilists' 
bombs.  Armed  sentries  patrolled  the  roofs.  When  the 
Czar  started  for  home  all  the  railroad  bridges,  as  well  as 
t  he  st  reels  of  Berlin,  Marieuburg,  and  Dantzic,  were  guard- 
ed by  soldiers,  policemen,  and  detective's.  Not  until  after 
the  Czar  left  Dautzic  was  it  known  whether  he  had  pro- 
ceeded by  train  or  on  the  imperial  yacht  Dcrjara.  When 
the  train  started  for  the  border  50,000  Russian  troops  wen- 
placed  on  guard  along  the  railroad  tracks.  Every  journey 
the  unhappy  ruler  made  was  attended  by  similar  precautions. 
When  Fraucais  Felix  Fa  lire,  the  newly 
elected  President  of  the  French  Republic,, 
made  his  first  railroad  journey  alter  elec- 
tion, he  found  that  being  a  mere  President 
is  almost  as  unpleasant  us  playing  king. 
For  fear  of  anarchists  a  strong  force  of  sol- 
diers and  tour  sappers  and 
miners  guarded  each  of  the 
railway  bridges  and  giade 
crossings  between  Versailles, 
and  Paris.  Extra  policemen 
and  a  little  army  of  live 
hundred  detectives  watched 
the  palace  in  which  the 


around  him  and  ask 
them  questions  and 
make  wise  comments, 
as  Kings  always  do — 
in  certain  books. 

Downright  worry 
drove  Czar  Alexander 
III.  of  Russia  to  his 
death.  Taller  and 
stronger  than  any 
of  his  subjects,  not 
one  of  whom  could 
cope  with  him  in 
wrestling,  this  im- 
perial giant  was  actually  tormented  into  his  grave  by  fears 
of  nihilistic  plots  to  destroy  him.  Nowhere  was  this  fear 
greater  than  when  on  railroad  journeys.  Again  and  again 
Alexander  abandoned  long  trips  at  the  last  moment  because 
the  nihilists  had  learned  his  plans,  and  there  was  reason  to 
believe  that  they  had  dug  mines  under  the  railroad  track 
and  were  ready  to  blow  him  and  his  train  to  fragments. 
His  sou  has  not  been  on  the  throne  long  enough,  the  nihil- 
ists say,  for  them  to  decide  whether  or  not  they  shall  try  to 
kill  him. 

Alexander's  train  was  a  fort  on  wheels.  It  was  built  in 
1889,  two  years  after  a  terrible  underground  explosion 
of  dynamite,  which  wrecked  the  Czar's  train  at  liorki.  when 
he  was  on  his  way  from  the  Crimea  to  St.  Petersburg  with 
the  Empress  and  their  family.  In  that  accident  twenty- 
one  persons  were  killed  and  thirty-six  were  wounded,  but 
not  one  of  the  imperial  family  was  injured.  The  Czar 


THE    FKENCII    PRESIDENT    ON    THE    WAY    FROM    VERSAILLES. 


National  Assembly  sat.  A  strong  battalion  of  lancers  anil 
more  foot  soldiers  than  yon  could  count  escorted  the  new 
President  to  the  special  train  in  waiting  at  Versailles  at  8 
o'clock  on  Friday  morning,  January  ISHi.  Fortunately 
no  anarchist  got  a  sliot  at  the  President  as  he  was  whirled 
along,  but  as  he  emerged  from  the  St.  Lazare  railway  sta- 
tion in  Paris  voices  in  the  crowd  yelled  at  him,  "!)O\MI 
with  the  check-takers!" — a  pointed  hint  that  M.Faure  was 
implicated  in  the  Panama  Canal  scandal. 


A    CORRECTION. 

"I'VE  dot   two  Mower  Gciose~." 
Said   Mollie.      "If  you   please." 

Said  Johnny,  "Don't  say  Gooses, 
Because  it's  Mother  Geese." 


749 


DR.    RAINSFORD'S     ADVICE    TO     BOYS. 


WHEN  we  were  boys  we  did  things  without  thinking; 
much  about  them.  Boys  do  not  generally  think 
much ;  yet  I  think  even  when  I  was  a  boy  I  foiuul  myself 
sometimes  wondering  why  it  was  so  hard  to  do  the  things 
I  wanted  to  do  well.  It  was  ever  so  much  Larder,  of  course, 
to  do  well  the  things  that  one  did  not  specially  want  to 
<lo.  I  want  to  talk  to  you  a  little  about  the  reason  that 
lies  back  of  this  difficulty  of  doing  things  well. 

When  I  was  thirteen  my  father  gave  me  a  gun.  That 
birthday  loug  ago  is  one  of  the  very  reddest  of  red-letter 
{lays  in  iny  life.  I  have  had  many  a  good  time  since;  but 
none  of  these  good  times,  I  think,  have  quite  come  up  to 
that  hour,  so  full  of  astonishment  and  delight,  when  I  saw 
the  very  tiling  I  had  beeii  longing  for  and  dreaming 
about  so  long — saw  the  soft-looking  brown  barrels  lying 
snugly  against  the  green-baize  lining  of  the  case,  and  felt 
the  ring  of  the  lock  under  my  lingers  as  I  drew  the  ham- 
mers of  my  own  gun  back.  (Those  were  the  days  of  muz- 
zle-loaders, boys.)  But  when  I  liad  got  that  gun — the  de- 
sire of  my  eyes,  the  pride  of  my  life — it  was,  oh,  how  long, 
before  I  could  hit  things  flying  with  it.  On  Saturday 
half-holidays  (we  had  only  one  half  a  holiday  a  week  when 
I  was  .at  school),  I  used  to  practise  steadily.  All  my  sav- 
ings went  to  shot,  powder,  and  wads.  I  almost  lost  the 
desire  for  candy  with  its  disuse.  I  even  turned  my  back 
on  the  pond  where  we  used  to  fish  for  roach.  I  had  seen 
my  father  kill  birds  flying,  one  with  each  barrel,  anil  there 
was  neither  rest  nor  satisfaction  for  me  till  I  could  ilo  the 
same.  I  think  I  took  to  shooting  naturally;  yet  how  long 
it  was,  and  how  hard  I  had  to  work,  before  I  learned  to 
shoot  steadily  and  well. 

It  was  the  same  story  over  again  when  I  had  grown  older 
and  gone  to  college.  There  I  determined  to  row.  If  ever 
you  are  in  old  Eugliind  in  May,  go,  if  you  can,  to  Oxford  or 
Cambridge,  if  it  is  only  to  see  the  college  races.  The  river- 
banks  then  are  green,  so  green,  and  the  hedges  and  trees 
are  one  waving  nosegay.  The  big  buttercups  grow  in 
yellow  bunches  by  the  brink.  Where  the  meadows  slope 
down  to  the  stream  crowds  of  gayly  dressed  people  are 
.standing,  for  the  sisters  and  friends  of  every  college  lad 
have  come  up  to  see  the  sight.  This  is  on  one  side  of  the 
river;  on  the  other  stretches  the  towing-path,  and  along  it 
surge  a  mighty  throng  of  "  men  "  clad  in  all  the  colors  of 
the  rainbow,  wild  with  excitement,  shouting  themselves 
hoarse.  They  are  out  to  see  their  college  crew  row.  And 
what  a  sight,  those  crews  are!  Round  the  bend,  here  they 
come  at  last,  the  eight-oar  crews,  the  men's  bodies  swinging 
like  pendulums,  the  eight  pair  of  hands  dropping  at  the  end 
of  each  stroke  as  one,  and  then  shooting  out  altogether. 
With  a  sweep  and  a  swish  they  dash  by,  and  the  rushes  of 
college  color  struggle  to  keep  up  with  them.  Ah,  the  very 
memory  of  it  makes  me  thrill  still !  When  first  I  saw  their 
ease  and  splendid  strength,  how  simple  it  looked.  Surely, 
any  fairly  strong  mini  could  make  those  broad-bladed  oars 
tome  swishing  through,  leaving  behind  them,  well  below 
the  surface,  a  clear  track  of  white  water.  So  it  seemed  to 
me, and  I  determined  there  and  then,  that  first  May  morn- 
ing, I  too  would  row.  But  I  tell  yon  it  costs  something 
to  sit  in  a  good  eight-oar.  Long  months  of  hard  work, 
obedience  to  orders,  and  patient  drudgery  have  to  be  under- 
gone before  the  broad-bladed  oar  comes  swishing  through 
as  I  have  tried  to  describe  it.  Your  hack  aches,  yonr  wrists 
feel  limp  as  wet  strings,  and  your  chest  is  absolutely  burst- 
ing, and  yet  you  do  not  seem  to  be  able  to  put  one  good 
stroke  in  ;  the  boat  slips  away  from  you  all  the  time.  So 
for  weeks  anil  months  runs  your  daily  experience.  But 
when  the  rudiments  of  rowing  are  mastered  at  last,  when 
patient  attention  and  hard  exercise  have  made  yon  strong, 
and  taught  you  when  and  where  to  use  your  strength,  then 
comes  the  reward.  And  whatever  delightful  experiences 
life  may  have  in  store  for  yon.  few  indeed  of  them  can  sur- 
pass the  exhilaration,  the  sense  of  triumphant  power,  that 
none  know,  perhaps,  so  well  as  those  who  have  rowed  on  a 
first-class  eight-oar  crew. 

Do  you  see  what  I  am  driving  at?  I  have  been  talking 
of  our  pleasures,  the  things  we  want  to  do  and  choose  to  do. 


These,  I  say,  cost  us  trouble,  and  a  great  deal  of  care  and 
painstaking.  If  any  boy  thinks  he  can  command  success, 
even  in  his  sports,  without  putting  into  them  all  the  will 
and  all  the  brains,  as  well  as  all  the  brawn,  he  has  as  his 
own,  he  must  soon  find  himself  left  out  in  the  cold.  At 
best  he  can  only  be  a  second-rate.  Now  this  law  of  life, 
namely,  that  you  must  work  hard  to  succeed  in  anything, 
does  not  apply  to  us,  who  are  lords  of  creation,  alone.  One 
of  the  most  wonderful  things  about  our  world  is  that  the 
rules  of  the  game  of  life  are  obeyed  by  the  smallest  atom 
that  lives  as  well  as  by  "  king  mail  "  himself.  If  any  liv- 
ing thing  neglects  or  disobeys  those  rules,  that  disobedient 
being,  whether  it  be  common  or  low,  suffers  for  its  disobe- 
dience. If  it  obeys  those  rules,  it  grows  stronger  by  obe- 
dience, and  increases  and  develops  its  own  power. 

Let  me  tell  yon  one  or  two  instances  of  obedience  by  the 
creatures  round  us  to  these  hard  rules  of  life. 

Have  yon  ever  seen  a  little  salmon?  A  dainty,  plucky 
little  fellow  he  is.  It  takes  him  two  years  to  grow  from 
the  egg  to  yonr  finger's  length.  These  two  years  of  baby- 
hood are  spent  in  the  quiet  waters  of  his  river  home.  By 
the  time  the  second  summer  is  passed  he  is  about  five  inches 
long,  golden-sided,  with  bright  crimson  spots,  and  weighs 
perhaps  two  ounces.  Then  he  starts  on  his  first  great 
journey  to  waters  unknown.  No  one  knows  where  he  goes, 
what  lonely  places  he  visits,  where  in  the  great  sea  the  lit- 
tle adventurer  makes  his  winter  home.  Certainly  the 
Arctic  Ocean  is  not  too  cold  for  him,  for  the  waters  of  the 
far  Mackenzie,  emptying  themselves  into  the  polar  sea, 
swarm  with  salmon  ;  but  wherever  the  little  fellow  does 
winter,  the  climate,  food,  and  life  must  agree  with  him 
amazingly.  He  goes  seaward  in  August.  Next  summtr 
he  is  back  in  the  same  old  river;  and  not  only  that,  but  in 
the  very  pool  in  it  where  he  was  hatched  out.  He  is  the 
same,  but  not  the  same;  for  now  he  weighs  from  three  to 
five  pounds.  In  the  river  it  took  him  two  years  to  grow 
five  inches  and  weigh  two  ounces.  In  those  six  months  of 
sea  life  he  has  gained  at  least  twenty-four  times  his  own 
weight.  There  is  a  reward  for  you!  He  felt  lie  ought  to 
go  away  and  fight  it  out  in  the  great  sea  He  went,  he 
fought,  he  won,  and  now  he  revisits  the  old  river  a  very 
different  fish  indeed.  There  is  no  longer  any  reason  why 
he  need  lurk  behind  stones  and  dash  aside  to  avoid  the  rush 
of  the  voracious  trout.  The  very  trout  that  once  tried  to 
gobble  him  must  move  out  of  the  way,  for  he  is  almost  a 
salmon.  What  has  made  him  the  strong  beautiful  fish  he 
is  ?  One  thing,  and  one  only — the  struggle  with  the  deep 
sea,  and  all  the  deep  sea  means.  If  he  had  been  content 
to  stay  behind  his  fellows  in  the  warm  clear  river  he 
would  be  scarcely  any  bigger  than  he  was  last  fall.  His 
red  spots  would  not  be  quite  so  bright,  nor  he  himself  so 
vigorous.  Nature  whispered  to  him  to  go  forth  and  strive 
and  grow,  and  since  he  obeyed  her,  and  did  his  best,  she  kept 
her  word  with  him. 

Have  yon  ever  tried  to  crawl  up  on  a  bunch  of  wild 
ducks,  or  sat  behind  a  bliud  while  yonr  wooden  decoys 
were  spread  on  the  water  all  around  you?  If  you  have 
done  either,  I  know  yon  will  agree  with  me  when  I  say  the 
wild  duck  is  a  very  smart  fellow  indeed.  His  eye  is  keen, 
he  is  full  of  sense,  and  very  hard  to  fool.  Now  his  cousin, 
the  tame  duck,  is  next  door  to  an  idiot.  He  cannot  hide 
himself  or  protect  himself  in  any  way.  Strangely  enough, 
too,  while  the  wild  duck  finds  one  wife  and  one  family 
quite  all  be  can  attend  to,  the  big,  hulking  tame  duck  is  a 
regular  Mormon,  and  prefers  a  dozen  wives,  and  neglects 
his  children  sadly.  It  is  not  hard  to  guess  why  these  two 
birds  are  so  different.  The  tame  duck  is  only  a  wild  duck 
domesticated,  that  is,  put  in  such  a  position  that  he  could 
not  continue  to  live  the  natural  sort  of  life  that  was  best 
for  him,  the  life  of  continuous  struggle.  He  is,  in  short, 
a  degenerate  wild  duck;  his  wings  are  not  so  broad  or  so 
strong,  the  muscles  of  his  breast  have  grown  puny  anil 
shrunken;  he  does  not  even  want  to  fly  far  north  in  spring 
or  far  south  in  winter.  He  is  content  with  his  farm-yard 
and  puddle.  He  has  stopped  trying,  and  so  has  stopped 
growing  too. 


750 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


One  more  instance  I  will  give  you,  boys,  of  Ilie  impor- 
tant place  this  law  of  struggle  plays  in  the  lives  of  tin-  very 
beasts.  I  was  visiting  some  time  ago  the  museum  in  <>ne 
of  our  universities.  One  of  the  professors  was  with  ine, 
and  wt;  came  to  a  case  full  of  plaster  casts  of  brains,  the 
brains  of  animals.  While  looking  at  these  you  could,  of 
course,  easily  compare  their  size  and  character,  and  form 
some  opinion  of  the  intelligence  of  the  animal  itself.  The 
professor  pointed  out  to  me  one  very  interesting  brain  cast. 
It  was  taken  from  the  head  of  a  rhinoceros  that  had  lived 
very  long  ago — lived  at  the  same  time  as  mammoths  and 
other  antiquated  animals.  It  was  quite  a  large  and  well- 
developed  brain.  We  nest  went  to  another  case  and  took 
out  the  cast  of  a  common  rhinoceros,  such  a  one  as  lived 
iu  our  own  times,  and  it  was  very  evident  that  the  present- 
day  rhino  was  not  nearly  so  large  or  intelligent-  as  his  pro- 
genitor of  long  ago.  This  seemed  at  first  very  strange;  for 
why  should  the  rhino's  brain  have  degenerated  while  they 
are  still  struggling  forward  in  the  march  of  life?  The  an- 
swer is  to  be  found  in  the  sort  of  battle  they  have  to  light. 
When  the  antediluvian  rhino  lived,  the  world  was  peopled 
with  terrible  monsters,  brutes  of  great  strength  and  sav- 
agery. With  these  he  had  no  easy  time  of  it  He  had  to 
match  himself  against  them.  Great  strength  alone  was  not 
enough  ;  he  needed  cuuuing  as  well.  Struggle  he  must, 
and  struggle  hard  or  go  under;  and  he  survived  because 
he  did  struggle  hard  and  did  not  go  under.  When,  how- 
ever, most  of  the  monstrous  forms  of  life  had  gradually 
passed  away,  the  rhinoceros  had  no  enemy  he  stood  much 
iu  dread  of.  The  milder  animals  of  a  later  day  get  out  of 
his  way.  There  is  nothing  to  be  gained  by  contending 
with  him.  He  needs  no  longer  to  strive ;  life  comes  easily, 
and  food  is  plenty.  Thus  it  is  that  a  perpetually  "good 
time  "  resulted  in  weakening  his  head  and  lowering  his  in- 
telligence. He  is,  indeed,  the  degenerate  descendant  of  a 
noble  parent. 

So,  boys,  wherever  we  look,  the  same  result  is  taught  us. 
The  very  beasts  of  the  field  can  only  hold  their  own  by  do- 
ing their  best.  We,  their  kings  and  lords,  must  put  our 
right  hand  to  the  work,  too.  We  can  only  live  our  best 
life,  develop  our  true  self,  by  striving.  The  tallest  and 
strongest  trees  are  what  they  are  because  they  have  over- 
come the  mighty  force  of  gravitation  that  seeks  to  drag 
down  and  hold  down  to  the  earth  every  particle  of  matter 
within  them.  Life,  even  in  the  tree,  means  something 
that  iirci-fiimcK,  rises  above  a  force  that  holds  it  down  ;  ami 
yet  only  holds  it  down  that  its  most  beautiful  and  best  na- 
ture may  be  developed  to  the  full.  So  it  is  with  us  men. 
The  brave  man  is  not  he  who  never  felt  fear.  If  a  man  is 
intelligent  he  must,  under  fearful  circumstances,  feel  fear; 
bnthe  who,  feeling  fear,  overcomes  his  feeling  and  stands 
unmoved,  or  does  in  spite  of  danger  the  right  and  brave  thing 

this  man  has  true  courage,  this  man  is  the  real  hero.    Yon 

may  have  heard  the  story  of  the  officer  who,  when  the  can- 
non balls  began  to  cut  down  files  of  his  men,  stood  all  trem- 
bling in  front  of  the  regiment.  It  looked  as  though  he  was 
terribly  afraid.  His  knees  were  shaking  under  him,  and 
his  face  was  set  and  white.  Some  one  standing  near  heard 
him  talking  to  himself,  heard  him  say,  as  he  looked  down 
at  his  trembling  legs,  "If  yon  only  knew  where  I  was  go- 
ing to  take  yon,  you  would  give  way  altogether."  That,  I 
take  it,  is  true  courage.  On  the  walls  of  a  great  school- 
room in  one  of  the  largest  public  schools  in  England  is 
written  this  motto — and  yon  cannot  timl  a  better: 

"  So  near  is  glory  to  our  dust, 

So  near  is  God  to  man  ; 
When  Duty  whispers,  'Lo,  thou  must!' 
The  youth  replies,  'I  can.'" 

W.  S.  RAINSFOKD. 


my 


BOBBY'S  GARDI5N. 
BOBBY.  "I   have  just  finished  digging  and   rakin; 

garden,  and  now  I  want  five  cents." 

MAMMA.  "  What,  "five  cents  for  making  your  garden  '!" 
BOBBY.  "  No,  mamma,  not  for  making  the  garden,  but  to 

buy  a  package  of  succotash  seed." 


Th:s  Depnrtme 

h*  flensed  to  an 
address  Editor  O 


r.,1  tin 
•sj.ii.ni 


T 


onducted  in  the  interest  nf   ^mnteni    Photnera 

my  quest!.. I Ihe  gnlijr,  t   K  l:.i    n,   |™,.sil,),, 

Cliil.  D  .|.!irlin..nr 

PAPERS    FOR   BEGIXXKKS,  Xo.  8. 
OVER-EXPOSED  PLATES,  AND  HOW   TO  TREAT  THEM. 

HE  process  of  developing  a  negative  would  be  very 
easily  and  quickly  mastered  if  the  exposure  of  the  sen- 
sitive plates  were  always  timed  exactly  right.  Correct 
exposure,  however,  is  the  exception  rather  than  the  rule  of 
amateur  photography.  To  get  good  negatives,  therefore, 
the  amateur  must  learn  to  distinguish  between  a  correct 
and  incorrect  exposure  of  the  plate,  and  how  to  treat  it,  if 
incorrectly  exposed,  in  order  to  preserve  the  image  which 
is  impressed  on  it. 

Over-exposure  is  the  most  common  fault  of  the  beginner 
in  photography.  A  properly  exposed  plate  grows  into  a 
negative  step  by  step,  until  the  whole  image,  with  all 
its  delicate  gradations  of  lights  and  shadows,  is  fully  de- 
veloped. An  over-exposed  plate  acts  in  a  very  different 
manner.  When  placed  iu  the  developer,  instead  of  the 
high  lights  first  appearing  and  the  objects  coming  out 
gradually,  the  whole  image  comes  out  almost  at  once — 
"flashes  up"  is  the  technical  and  really  appropriate  term. 
If  the  plate  is  left  in  the  developer,  the  image  will  fade 
away  almost  as  quickly  as  it  came  out,  and  the  result  will 
be  a  thin  negative,  from  which  satisfactory  prints  cannot 
be  made. 

TREATMENT. 

As  soon  as  the  image  Hashes  up,  showing  that  the  plate 
has  been  over-exposed,  take  it  from  the  developer  and 
place  it  in  a  dish  of  clean  water  to  stop  development. 
Turn  the  developer  from  the  tray  and  rinse  the  tray.  Mix 
up  a  weak  solution  of  developer,  or  dilute  this  same  devel- 
oper one-third  with  water.  Add  to  this  weak  developer  a 
few  drops  of  a  solution  of  bromide  of  potassium,  prepared 
with  a  quarter  of  an  ounce  of  bromide  of  potassium  and 
five  ounces  of  water.  This  solution  should  be  mixed  and 
kept-  always  ready  for  use.  Label  the  bottle  "Restrainer.'r 
The  bromide  is  called  a  restrainer,  as  it  makes  the  develop- 
ment of  the  image  proceed  more  slowly. 

Put  the  plate  back  in  the  tray,  and  turn  the  developer, 
to  which  the  bromide  has  been  added,  over  it,  rocking  the 
plate  gently.  Watch  the  development  closely,  and  if  the 
ima^e  still  comes  up  too  fast  add  a.  iew  more  drops  of 
bromide.  Unless  the.  plate  has  been  very  much  over- 
exposed, by  taking  it  from  the  developer  and  using  the  re- 
strainer  carefully,  a  good  negative  can  usually  be  obtained. 
If  the  plate  has  been  too  much  over-exposed,  there  is  no 
way  of  saving  it. 

If  one  knows  or  thinks  that  a  plate  has  been  over-ex- 
posed, the  plate  should  not  be  put  in  a  normal  developer — 
that  is,  a  developer  which  would  he  used  for  a  correctly 
exposed  plate — but  it,  should  be  put  into  the  weak  devel- 
oper to  which  bromide  has  been  added. 

Some  amateurs,  in  developing,  have  three  trays  of  devel- 
oper. The  first  tray  contains  normal  developer,  the  secoud 
tray  contains  developer  prepared  for  over-exposed  plates, 
and  the  third  for  under-exposed  plates. 

If  a  plate  is  found  to  be  under  or  over  exposed,  it  is 
washed  and  removed  to  the  tray  containing  the  proper 
solution.  This  is  a  very  good  plan  if  one  has  a  quantity 
of  plates  to  develop  which  have  been  exposed  at  different 
times  and  under  different  circumstances,  as  it  saves  prepar- 
ing fresh  developer  after  development  has  been  started. 

Sn:  KMOMT  FT.ANK  KANB  asks  what  is  meant  by  a  flat  negative.  A 
flat  <>i  thin  negative  is  one  which  has  been  over-exposed,  and  not  suffi- 
ciently developed  to  give  the  uccvRsury  density,  so  that  the  light  passes 
through  all  parts  qnicklv,  and  gives  a  flat  picture,  wanting  in  contrast. 
The  next  number  ot  the  Romp  TAUI.E  will  give  methods  for  strengthen- 
ing or  redeveloping  thin  negatives. 


7ol 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


THE    RAINBOW*    TABLE. 


A   RAINBOW  TEA. 

BY    MARY    J.     S  AFFORD. 

SUGGESTIONS  for  pretty  effects  at  church  fairs  are  al- 
ways in  order,  and  one  which  I  attended  recently  was 
so  attractive  in  its  arrangements,  and  so  well  carried  out 
in  every  detail,  that  a  description  may  be  of  service  to 
those  who  are  planning  a  sale. 

Even  the  tirkrls  were  in  harmony  with  the  remainder 
of  the  decoration.  They  bore  diagonally  across  the  centre, 
the  upper  left-hand  and  the  lower  right-hand  corners,  a 
rainbow,  while  the  lettering  ran  : 

RAINBOW  TEA. 

IN    All)    <M<' 

Tin'..  - 


Admission,  '25  cents. 

Entering  the  room  one  saw  directly  opposite  to  the  door 
the  seven  tables,  each  representing  one  of  the  colors  of  the 
rainbow.  All  were  the  same  length  and  width,  covered 
with  the  pretty,  inexpensive  crepe  cloth,  and  bordered  with 
a  frill  of  crepe-paper  the  same  shade.  From  the  end  of 
each  table  ran  a  width  of  the  crepe  cloth,  through  whose 
centre  was  a  strip  of  satin  ribbon  the  same  shade  about 
four  inches  wide.  These  extended  to  a  small  square  table 
and  fastened  on  the  top.  This  table  was  placed  midway 
between  the  red  and  the  violet  oue,  which  stood  on  the 
same  line,  perhaps  six  feet  apart,  the  other  five  tables  being 
set  between  in  the  order  of  the  colors  of  the  rainbow,  the 
green  at  right  angles  with  the  red  and  the  violet,  and  the 
remainder  slanting.  The  effect  of  the  semicircle  was  ex- 
tremely pretty,  and  it  also  afforded  room  for  attendants  and 
buyers  to  gather  around  the  lower  ends  of  the  respective 
tables. 

The  central  ornament  of  each  was  a  banquet-lamp,  cor- 
responding in  color  with  the  table  on  which  it  stood  ;  that 
on  the  red  one  had  a  red  porcelain  vase  in  an  iron  stand, 
with  a  red  shade;  the  green  lamp  had  a  greeu  pillar  and 
green  shade ;  the  yellow  table  bore  a  brass  lamp,  etc. 

The  red,  orange,  and  violet  tables  contained  a  bewilder- 
ing variety  of  articles  for  sale,  and  it  was  an  interesting 
study  to  note  the  ingenuity  with  which  the  respective 
colors  had  been  introduced  into  the  fancy -work,  painted 
china,  etc.,  displayed  to  tempt  purchasers. 


On  the  orange  table,  for 
instance,  were  small  gilded 
straw  baskets,  filled  with 
delicious  home  -  made  mo- 
lasses candies,  tiny  emery- 
cases  covered  with  brown 
velvet,  and  surrounded  by 
petals  cut  from  deep  yel- 
low cloth,  perfectly  repre- 
senting the  dnisylike  flow- 
er known  as  "  Mack-eyed 
Susan,"  sunflower  penwip- 
ers, handkerchief-  cases, 
made  by  folding  an  em- 
broidered handkerchief 
over  a  square  of  yellow 
perfumed  silk,  the  four  cor- 
ners meeting  in  the  centre, 
laundry -bags,  embroidered 
with  yellow  silk,  sachet- 
cases  with  yellow  butter- 
cups strewn  over  them, 
teacups  decorated  with 
gold,  etc. 

The  red  table  bore  sim- 
ilar testimony  to  the  clev- 
erness of  those  who  had 
supplied  its  wants,  while 
the  violet  one  was  a  mar- 
vel of  daintiness  and  sug- 
gestion of  spring-time  love- 
liness. The  banquet-lamp 

had  a  silver  stand  and  shade  of  violet  silk  and  white  lace  ; 
near  it  was  a  sofa  cushion  of  sheer  white  linen  lawn  em- 
broidered with  violets,  and  surrounded  by  a  wide  insertion 
of  lace,  finished  with  a  ruffle  edged  with  lace.  Beside  this 
was  a  little  bag,  of  white  silk,  with  a  pattern  of  lilac  sweet- 
pease,  in  the  bottom  of  which  a  needle-book  was  inserted, 
and  not  far  off  lay  a  table-centre  embroidered  with  violets. 
The  yellow  table  was  tempting,  with  a  large  glass  bowl 
filled  with  lemonade,  served  with  a  variety  of  yellow  cakes. 
The  green  one  dispensed  ice-cream.  The  blue,  besides  tea, 
sold  pretty  blne-and-white  china  cups  and  saucers,  tied  to- 
gether with  blue  ribbon;  and  the  indigo  one  was  sought 
by  lovers  of  chocolate. 

The  attendants  at  each  table  wore  its  colors.  And  an- 
other pretty  feature  of  the  occasion  was  a  largo  pine-tree, 
standing  in  one  corner  of  the  hall,  from  whose  branches 
hung  oranges  made  of  yellow  paper,  each  oue  containing 
some  prize  for  the  purchaser. 


QUEER   MONEY. 

HERE  is  an  amusing  account  of  a  traveller  who  went 
many  years  ago  to  Mexico,  and  found  the  natives 
using  a  strange  kind  of  currency.  Says  he  : 

"  In  one  of  the  small  towns  I  bought  some  limes,  and 
gave  the  girl  oue  dollar  in  payment.  By  way  of  change, 
she  returned  me  forty-nine  pieces  of  soap  the  size  of  a  small 
biscuit.  I  looked  at  her  in  astonishment,  and  she  returned 
my  look  with  equal  surprise,  when  a  police  officer,  who  bad 
witnessed  the  incident,  hastened  to  inform  me  that  for 
small  sums  soap  was  legal  tender  in  many  portions  of  the 
country. 

"  I  examined  my  change,  and  found  that  each  cake 
was  stamped  with  the  name  of  a  town  and  of  a  manufacture 
authorized  by  the  government.  The  cakes  of  soap  were 
worth  three  farthings  each.  Afterwards,  in  my  travel,  I 
frequently  received  similar  change.  Many  of  the  cakes 
showed  signs  of  having  been  in  the  wash-tub  ;  but  that  I 
discovered  was  not  at  all  uncommon.  Provided  the  stamp 
was  not  obliterated,  the  soap  did  not  lose  any  value  as  cur- 
rency. Occasionally  a  man  would  borrow  a  cake  of  a 
friend,  wash  his  hands,  and  return  it  with  thanks.  I  made 
use  of  iny  pieces  more  than  ouce  iu  my  bath,  and  subse- 
quently spent  them." 


752 


INTERSCHOEASTIQ1 


IN  LOOKING  OVER  THE  PROGRAMMES  of  the  different  scho- 
lastic athletic  associations,  I  find  that  the  Connecticut 
High-School  A. A.  is  about  the  only  one  which  has  the  same 
list  of  events  as  that  approved  by  the  I.C.  A.A.A.  It  also 
uses  the  same  system  of  scoriug — 5, 2,  and  1 — whereas  most 
of  the  other  interscholastic  associations  award  three  points 
to  the  winner  of  second  place.  This,  however,  is  a  differ- 
ent question,  and  one  that  I  hope  to  treat  of  later.  One  thing 
at  a  time;  and  if  we  can  get  the  card  straightened  out  by 
next  spring  I  shall  be  satisfied.  If  I  can  persuade  all  the 
executive  committees  to  adopt  the  list  of  events  in  use  by 
the  colleges  I  shall  consider  that  this  Department  has  done 
some  good, ami  has  accomplished  at  least  one  valuable  thing 
in  its  own  sphere  of  usefulness.  I  am  optimistic  enough 
to  believe  that  a  year  from  now  every  association  will  have 
adopted  the  uniform  schedule. 

THE  CONNECTICUT  ASSOCIATION  at  one  time  had  the 
standing  high  and  broad  jumps  as  well  as  the  running 
high  kick  on  their  card  ;  but  when  Yale  offered  a  silver  cup 
for  competition  among  the  schools  in  1891,  one  of  the  con- 
ditions attached  to  the  gift  was  that  the  programme  must 
be  made  to  correspond  with  the  inter-collegiate  schedule. 
To  the.  New  Haven  college,  -therefore,  is  largely  due  the 
credit  for  the  Connecticut  H. -S. A. A. 's  present  emancipation 
from  acrobatics.  The  events  on  their  card,  like  those  of  the 
I.C.A.A.A.,  comprise  the  100  and  220-yard  dashes ;  the  quar- 
ter, tho  half,  and  the  mile  runs;  the  mile  walk;  the  120- 
yard  hurdle  race  over  3  ft.  6  in.  hurdles,  and  the  220-yard 
hurdle  race  over  2  ft.  6  in.  hurdles ;  the  2-mile  bicycle  race  ; 
the  polo  vault;  the  running  high  and  broad  jumps;  the 
shot  and  hammer,  both  of  sixteen  pounds. 

IT  is  ONLY  NATURAL  that  a  university  or  college  associ- 
ation which  takes  an  active  interest  in  the  sports  of  its 
preparatory  schools  should  wish  to  have  the  athletes  who 
are  making  ready  to  enter  its  ranks  familiar  with  the  events 
on  the  inter-collegiate  card.  We  all  know  very  well  that, 
no  matter  how  great  the  college-man's  interest  may  be  in 
sport,  as  such,  he  is  not  going  to  waste  his  time  and  money 
and  energy  in  training  and  encouraging  young  men  who 
do  not  expect  to  go  to  college,  or  who  practise  high  kick- 
ing and  standing  jumps,  or  other  feats  of  which  he  takes 
no  notice.  He  very  justly  argues  that  there  are  enough 
young  athletes  in  the  country,  who  want  to  do  what  he 
does,  for  him  to  give  all  his  attention  to  them.  Therefore 
if  school  associations  want  the  colleges  to  take  a  lively 
interest  in  their  efforts,  to  send  them  trainers,  and  to  offer 
them  cups,  I  would  advise  them  to  work  along  the  lines 
that  college  athletes  have  found  most  suitable  for  their 
purposes,  and  to  let  other  matters  alone.  No  one  to  whom 
I  have  spoken  of  this  matter  so  far  has  disagreed  with  me. 
If  any  readers  of  this  Department  have  any  arguments  for 
the  other  side,  I  am  sure  we  shall  all  be  glad  to  hear  them. 

A  VERY  GOOD  EXAMPLE  of  what  might  justly  be  called  a 
"  freak  "  programme  is  that  of  the  Iowa  State  High-School 
Athletic  Association.  Their  field  day  was  held  at  Mnsca- 
tiue  on  May  25th  last,  and  I  insert  a  table  showing  the  re- 
sults of  the  games  more  as  an  interesting  curiosity  than  as 
a  valuable  contribution  toward  athletic  records.  Of  the 
seventeen  events  on  the  card,  only  nine  appear  on  the  I.C. 
A.A.A.  schedule,  and  one  of  these — the  12-lb.  shot — ought 
to  be  left  out.  If  the  hurdles  are  undersized,  then  the 
lowaus  have  really  only  six  numbers  on  their  list  that 
would  admit  them  to  competition  with  the  Interscholastic 
Association  of  the  United  States,  which  we  hope  to  see  in 
full-fledged  running  order  next  spring.  Iowa  has  a  claim 


to  recognition  in  .athletics,  her  university  having  sent  to 
the  Mott  Haven  games  this  year  the  fastest  sprinter  that 
has  entered  for  many  a  year.  Let  me  therefore  urge  the 
younger  athletes  to  train  themselves  for  events  that  they 
can  achieve  renown  in  rather  than  to  waste  their  lime 
in  high  kicking.  Crum  would  have  received  scant  atten- 
tion at  Mott  Haven  even  if  he  could  have  hopped,  stepped, 
and  jumped  from  one  end  of  the  Oval  to  the  other. 

FOUR  SCHOOLS  WERE  REPRESENTED  on  the  Fair  Grounds 
at  Mnscatiue,  and  Clinton  H.-S.  took  the  cup  with  50 
points.  The  Clinton  team  consisted  of  fourteen  boys  only, 
and  as  they  have  trained  themselves  without  any  assist- 
ance from  older  athletes,  their  performances  are  creditable. 
While  it  is  true  that  none  of  them  as  yet  threaten  the  In- 
terscholastic  records,  it  must  be  remembered  that  our  East- 
ern schools  have  been  in  athletics  many  years  longer  than 
the  lowaus,  and  enjoy  far  greater  advantages  from  trainers 
and  coaches  than  can  be  had  in  the  West.  In  a  very  few 
years,  however,  matters  will  no  longer  be  thus,  and  I  con- 
fidently look  to  see  several  of  these  records  held  beyond  the 
Mississippi.  My  young  friends  on  the  Pacific  coast  are 
going  to  raise  a  few  of  the  marks  too.  Look  out  for  them !: 

IF  THE  PLAN  NOW  PROPOSED  in  the  middle  West  can  be 
carried  out,  we  shall  see  next  year  an  Interscholastic  Asso- 
ciation composed  of  the  principal  schools  of  Iowa,  Illinois, 
Wisconsin,  and  Minnesota.  This  organization  will  be  a 
powerful  one,  and  its  meetings,  where  the  entries  will  be 
restricted  to  the  firsts  and  seconds  of  the  State  contests, 
ought  to  be  productive  of  good  records.  Such  competition 
cannot  fail  to  elevate  sport  in  that  section,  and  then  the 
East  will  have  to  look  to  its  laurels. 


CLINTON    HIGH-SCHOOL   TRACK-ATHLETIC    TICAM. 
Champions  of  the  Iowa  State  High-School  Athletic  Association. 

AT  A  MEETING  OF  THE  SCHOOLS  represented  in  the  Senior 
and  Junior  football  leagues,  held  in  Boston  early  last  May, 
some  good  changes  were  made  in  the  manner  of  running 
things,  and  several  excellent  rules  were  adopted.  The  con- 
stitution now  governs  both  leagues,  which  are  united  un- 
der the  single  title  of  "  The  Interscholastic  Football  Asso- 
ciation " — of  New  England,  I  suppose.  Henceforth  the  pres- 
ident of  the  association  will  practically  be  elected  by  goals 
and  touch-downs,  because  the  office  goes  to  the  Captain  of 
the  winning  eleven  of  the  Senior  League.  The  vice-presi- 
dent is  similarly  chosen,  the  office  going  to  the  Captain  of 
the  champion  team  of  the  Junior  League.  There  are  to  be- 


753 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 

IOWA   STATE   HIGH-SCHOOL  ATHLETIC   ASSOCIATION    GAMES,    MUSCATINE,  MAY    25,  1895. 


Event. 

Winner—  5  points. 

Performance. 

Id  —  3  points. 

3d  —  1  point. 

Points  Made. 

5  3-5  sec. 

Holbrook   T 

Clinton  50 

Holbrook  T 

11            * 

Month    I    C 

Dean    M 

Holbrook,  T. 

20  1-3      ' 

H<>rshurgh,  T 

Alnsriitiiie  ....                30 

Morlaiid   T 

5  m    18            ' 

Half-mile  bicycle  

Cole,  C. 

1   "    16            ' 

Kiirss,  L  C. 

Mahiu,  M. 

Total  Tsi 

Ilali-inih'  nui  

Demorest,  M. 

4  "    12            ' 

Swisber.  I.  C. 
Reed,  T. 

Mmhuitl,  T. 

lliilhrimk   T 

284-5     ' 

Conger  C 

55  2-5     ' 

Hertz,  I.  C. 

Holbrook  T 

244-5     ' 

Dean   M 

7  ft.     6         i  i. 

Lcefers   T 

5    *      3            * 

Booth   I  C 

Running  Imp,  step,  and  jump  

Booth,  I.  C. 

39    '      3            ' 
314    ' 

Freeman,  I.  C. 
Conger  C 

Hortoii,  M. 
Dean   M. 

Keister,  C. 

38    '      3            ' 

11.  .hues,  C. 

Hnlbruok  T 

9    '      93-4' 

Ilolhrook   T 

9    '      3            * 

Booth,  I  C 

Tipton,  T.        Clinton,  C,        Masculine,  M.         Iowa  City,  I.  C. 


graduates  on  the  executive  committee,  which  is  perfectly 
proper, but  that  these  should  he  chosen  from  one  college 
alone  is  tinwise  aud  unfair.  The  ne\v  scheme  is  to  have 
the  executive  committee  consist  of  the  Captain  of  tht>  Har- 
vard football  team,  three  undergraduates  of  the  schools  in 
the  league,  -with  the  president  ex  officlo,anA  two  graduates 
of  Harvard. 

THE  OBJECTION  I  MAKE  to  this  arrangement  is  that  it  is 
hardly  right  to  look  upon  the  IntiTscholastic  Football  As- 
sociation as  a  feeder  for  Harvard  alone.  It  is  probably 
true  that  Harvard  has  done  more  for  football  in  the  Boston 
schools  than  has  any  other  college,  and  even  inure  than  any 
other  college  ever  will  do;  but  still  men  do  go  from  Boston 
schools  to  other  places  than  Cambridge,  and  these  men 
might  feel  that  there  is  a  little  too  much  crimson  ink  on 
those  regulations.  It  would  be  better  to  have  it  set  down 
in  the  constitution  that  certain  members  of  the  committee 
shall  be  graduates  of  the  schools  that  are  members  of  the 
leagues  (college  graduates,  too,  if  you  like,  and  even  ex- 
members  of 'varsity  teams,  if  practical  football  knowledge 
is  wanted), but  let  the  eligibility  to  committee  membership 
depend  upon  the  candidate's  school  relations  rather  than 
upon  his  college,  connection.  It  might  happen'some  year, 
or  for  srvrral  years  in  succession,  that  the  football  men  of 
the  Boston  schools  would  go  to  Tufts  College  or  to  the 
Massachusetts  Institute  of  Technology,  Then  both  those 
institutions  would  feel  that  their  interest  in  the  welfare  of 
the  Interseholastic  League  entitled  them  to  an  eye  in  its 
supervision.  I  remember  that  in  1888,  the  year  the  Inter- 
scholastic  League  was  formed  by  Harvard  to  train  players 
for  the  Cambridge  eleven,  several  of  the  best  players  of  one 
of  the  strongest  teams  went  to  Yale. 

THE  TEAMS  ix  THE  SENIOR  LEAGUE  are  now  limited  to 
six,  and  before  the  series  of  games  begins  in  the  fall  each 
school  must  hand  in  its  list  of  players  for  the  year.  It  is  also 
required  that  each  player  shall  have  at  least  twelve  hours 
a  week  at  his  school,  aud  be  uot  over  twenty-one  years  of 
age.  The  Seniors  get  considerable  advantage  over  the 
Juniors  in  the  matter  of  voting,  they  being  allowed  two 
votes  to  the  hatter's  single  ballot. 

IT  is  ALMOST  IMPOSSIBLE  to  avoid  typographical  errors, 
especially  in  matter  consisting  largely  of  numerals,  like  the 
tabulated  records  so  frequently  printed  in  this  Department. 
I  remember  once  of  a  publisher  in  London  who  made  up 
his  mind  to  publish  a  book  that  should  have  no  typograph- 
ical errors  whatever.  He  had  his  proofs  corrected  by  his 
own  proof-readers,  until  they  all  assured  him  that  there 
were  uo  longer  any  errors  in  the  text.  Then  he  sent  proofs 
to  the  universities  aud  to  other  publishing  houses  offering 
a  prize  of  several  pounds  sterling  in  cash  for  every  typo- 
graphical mistake  that  could  be  found.  Hundreds  of  proofs 
were  sent  out  in  this  way,  and  many  skilled  proof-readers 
examined  the  pages  in  the  hope  of  earning  a  prize.  A  few 
errors  were  discovered.  Then  all  the  proof-sheets  having 
been  heard  from,  the  publisher  felt  assured  that  his  book 
would  appear  before  the  public  an  absolutely  perfect  piece 


of  composition.  He  had  the  plates  cast,  the  edition  print- 
ed and  bound  between  expensive  covers — because  as  a  per- 
fect specimen  of  the  printers'  art  it  was  of  course  unique  in 
literature,  and  exceedingly  valuable  to  bibliophiles.  The 
edition  sold  well  and  was  spread  all  over  the  country.  The 
publisher  was  very  much  pleased  with  himself  for  having 
done  something  that  had  hitherto  been  considered  an  im- 
possibility. Then  his  pride  had  a  fall,  for  six  or  eight 
months  later  he  received  a  letter  calling  his  attention  to 
an  error  in  a  certain  line  on  a  certain  page.  Then  came 
another  letter  announcing  the  discovery  of  a  second  error 
in  this  perfect  book.  I  believe  before  the  year  was  up 
four  or  five  mistakes  were  found. 

THIS  ONLY  GOES  TO  SHOW  that,  even  with  the  greatest 
care,  absolute  perfection  -is  impossible.  The  next  best 
thing,  therefore,  is  to  correct  unavoidable  errors  as  soon  as 
they  are  discovered.  This  Department  depends  largely 
upon  its  readers  to  find  its  occasional  slips,  and  I  shall  take 
great  pleasure  in  calling  attention  to  the  misprints  as  soon 
as  I  know  of  them.  There  are  many  who  preserve  the 
Hcifxi)  TABLE  ami  depend  upon  the  accuracy  of  the  figures 
given  for  reference  in  the  future.  They  can  make  their 
tables  absolutely  true  by  noting  in  ink  on  the  margin  of 
the  pages  any  corrections  given  here  later.  The  errors  I 
have  discovered  thus  far  follow: 

HACKETT'S  TIME  ix  THE  MILE  WALK,  shown  in  the  table 
on  page  538,  should  be  7  min.  46|  see.,  instead  of  7  inin. 
4f  sec.  On  page  537,  Meehan's  time  at  the  end  of  the  lirst 
lap  in  the  half-mile  run  should  have  been  given  as  61  sec., 
not  as  GO.  In  the  table  of  the  Connecticut  H.-S.&.A.  games 
printed  on  page  634,  Beck's  shot-put  is  given  as  36  ft.  8!  in. 
His  actual  performance  was  37  ft.  8t  inches.  At  the  dual 
games  between  the  Hillhouse  High-School  and  the  Board- 
man  Manual  Training-school  of  New  Haven,  Beck  made  a 
put  of  39  ft. 5  in.  This  would  therefore  correct  his  inter- 
.seholastic  record  in  the  table  on  page  706,  where  it  shows 
39  ft.  3  in.  The  order  of  the  finish  in  the  bicycle  race  at 
the  Connecticut  H.-S.A.A.  games  was  Baker,  Steele,  Kntx. 
This  is  stated  correctly  in  the  table,  but  not  in  the  text. 

A  FEW  YEARS  AGO,  long  before  photography  had  reached 
the  stage  of  accuracy  which  we  now  enjoy,  instantaneous 
photographs  were  made  of  a  horse  in  action,  aud  it.  was 
shown  that  the  old  conception  of  a  galloping  steed  with 
four  feet  oil' the  ground,  the  animal  posed  very  much  like  a 
Roman  arch,  was  absolutely  erroneous.  The  actual  posi- 
tion of  a  moving  horse  was  shown  to  be  entirely  different 
and  somewhat  peculiar.  Motion  is  so  swift  that  our  e\es 
cannot  keep  up  with  it — cannot  even  catch  one  of  its  ele- 
ments. Thus  we  get  a  very  imperfect  idea  of  moving 
objects  that  we  look  at,  and  not  until  photographs  come 
to  our  assistance  do  we  really  know  just  what  we  have 
seen. 

WHAT  THE  READERS  or  THIS  Department  are  presumably 
most  interested  in  just  now  is  sport,  and  more  particularly 
that  sport  participated  in  by  their  schoolmates,  and  by 


754 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


young  athletes  of  tlieir  own  age  in  other 
schools.  Each  individual,  no  doubt,  has  bis 
own  favorite  branch  of  athletics,  aud  lie 
naturally  strives  to  reach  as  great  a  degree 
of  perfection  as  he  is  capable  of  in  that 
special  kind  of  work.  It  is  not,  always  easy 
to  succeed  in  becoming  perfect.  Books  and 
descriptive  articles  are  valuable,  but  they 
must  lack  a  great  deal.  The  next  best  thing 
to  actual  physical  demonstration,  therefore, 
will  be  a  series  of  instantaneous  photo- 
graphs that  show  each  element  of  an  ath- 
letic performance  from  the  beginning  of  the 
action  until  the  end.  This  Department  will 
endeavor  from  time  to  time  to  offer  these 
series  of  elements  to  its  readers,  aud  will 
begin  .next  week  by  showing  just  how  the 
high  jump  is  performed.  The  photographs 
that  will  accompany  the  text  show  now 
each  motion  of  the  jump  is  made,  where  the 
jumper  is,  and  how  he  looks  during  the  en- 
tire transit  over  the  bar. 

THE  GRADUATE. 


This  Department  is  roliilurted  in  the  interest  ol'  stHuip  mt.l  coll] 
••'ill. -i 1«rs.  and  the  Editor  "ill  tie  pleased  to  answer  any  question  rm 
these  suhjects  so  fur  as  pussihle.  Correspondents  should  address  Editor 
Stamp  Department. 

1HAVE  a  number  of  inquiries  every  week 
regarding  water-marks  in  stamps,  espe- 
cially siuce  the  U.S.  has  begun  the  practice. 
Many  governments  have  used  this  method 
as  a  prevention  to  counterfeiting.  The 
water-mark  is  made  in  the  paper  while  in 
process  of  manufacture.  When  the  paper 
pulp  is  somewhat  solidified,  a  roller  is  run 
over  it  under  pressure.  This  roller  has  on 
the  outside  a  pattern  made  in  brass  or  cop- 
per, and  as  it  passes  over  the  wet  sheet  it 
thins  the  paper  wherever  the  pattern  has 


pressed  it.  If  well  done,  the  water -mark 
can  be  seen  by  looking  through  the  paper. 
If  poorly  done,  the  water-mark  can  be  seen 
{Indistinctly.  Philatelists  look  for  indis- 
tinct water-marks  by  placing  the  stamp 
face  downward  on  a  piece  of  black  paper, 
or  japanned  iron,  and  then  apply  pure  ben- 
zine to  the  back  of  the  stamp  with  a  camel's- 
hair  brush.  This  method  reveals  water- 
marks better  than  any  other.  Formerly 
most  paper  had  a  water-mark,  but  as  a  rule 
to-day  it  is  used  on  fine  qualities  of  writ- 
ing-paper only. 

England  and  hercolonies  have  used  water- 
marks in  stamps  siuce  1854.  In  that  year 
the  Small  Crown  was  used  for  Id.  red  and  2d. 
blue.  The  V.  R.  was  used  on  the  6d.  violet 
issued  in  the  same  year.  In 
1855  the  Garter  was  used  for 
tin-  4il.  in  three  sizes  known 
as  the  "  Large,  Medium,  and 
Small  Garters."  To  give  an 
idea  of  the  difference  in 
value  according  to  water- 
marks I  quote  from  a  late 
catalogue  : 


Unused.  Used. 

Small  garter,  4d.  on  bluish  paper,  $75  00  SI  25 

"       100  00  2  50 

"         60  00  1  00 

"         75  00  2  00 

1  75  S 


lu  1856  the  "Large  Crown"  aud  the 
"Heraldic  Emblems,"  or  "Four  Flowers," 
were  used  on  the  Id.,  l£d.,  2d.,  3d.,  6d.,l-d., 
and  Is.  stamps. 


Eleven  years  later  the  "  Spray  of  Rose  " 
was  used  on  all  stamps  from  :!d.  to  2s.    The 
"  Anchor  "  was  used  on  the  2*d.  in  1875,  and 
the   "Orb"   on  the  same  stamp  five  years 
later.     The  "Maltese  Cross" 
was    used    on   the    10s.    and 
£1  in  1878.     This  completes 
the  water-marks  on  English 
stamps,  with    the    exception 
of     ^d.     stamp,  which    was 
printed    on    sheets    marked 
"  half-penny." 


J.  HALT.. — All  TT,  S.  stamps  since  1S57  should  have 
been  perforated.  Any  unperforated  U.S.  stamps  since 
then  are  the  results  of  accidenl,  and  should  not  be 
catalogued.  They  are  "  freaks."  Proofs  are  not  per- 
forated, and  can  be  distinguished  from  stamps  by  their 
having  been  printed  on  card-board  or  India  paper. 

A.  P. — I  should  like  to  follow  your  suggestion  and 
give  a  list  of  all  the  new  issues  if  space  permitted. 

A.  LOHTJKI.I.. — There  are  three  varieties  of  the  cur- 
rent. 2c.  U.  S.  with  the  triangle  more  or  less  different. 
Types  I.,  II.,  and  III. 

B.  K.  H.— I  strongly  advise  yon   not  to  buy  the 
Chinese  local  stamps.     They  are  simply  philatelic 
trasb,  aud  will  probably  be  worth  less  money  ten  years 
from  now  than  they  cost  to-day.     Buy  good  stamps 
from  a  responsible  dealer.     As  a  rule  the  higher  the 
value  the  more  likely  to  increase  in  the  future.     This 
applies  to  all  but  the  first-class  rarities  now  worth 
from  S50  apiece  upward. 

W.  F.  BUOWN. — No  addresses  of  dealers  can  be  given 


in" this  column.  I  believe  the  dealers  have  a  full  sup- 
ply of  all  the  Columbian  stamps,  except  the  $1  and  $2, 
which  are  sold  for  $7  aud  $4  respectively.  There  is  no 
7c.  Columbian  stamp. 

M.  S.  C.— The  coin  dealers  sell  the  1S03  cent  for  10 
cents.  The  English  coins  mentioned  are  all  common. 

L.  V.  Br.tss. — Thanks  for  your  suggestion.  I  would 
adopt  the  same  at  once,  but  the  postal  laws  do  not 
permit  the  printing  of  any  illustration  of  a  U.S. 
stamp,  or  even  part  of  such  and  the  absence  of  illus- 
trations would  make  such  articles  uninteresting'  and 
very  difficult  to  understand. 

H.  GROSSMAN.— England  1840  Id.  black,  2d.  blue. 

RAY  B.  BAKKIL.— The  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  1861,  Id. 
red  is  worth  60  cents,  the  wood-black,  $15,  the  wood- 
black  error,  same  isMie,  Si'iii.  Th.-  \,d.  1S71  is  sold 
for  6  cents.  $1,  $2,  and  $5  Columbian,  $7,  $1,  $5  50  re- 
spectively. 

O.  A.  P.— It  is  not  a  coin,  and  is  worth  nothing. 

HELEN  O.  KAUPEII.—  The  90c.  orange,  1890,  is  sold  by 
dealers  for  Jl  50  ifnused,  75  cents  used.  The  coins  are 
worth  face  value  only. 

B.  W.  LKAVITT.— A  2c.  stamp  should  always  be  en- 
closed with  a  letter  of  inquiry. 

C.  McQrxEN.— The  values  of  all  the  Columbians  are 
about  the  same  as  six  months  ago,  except  that  the  $1 
has  advanced  to  about  so  in  value,  aud  the  $2  is  hard 
to  get  at  less  than  J4. 

H.  H.  BOWMAN. — The  3c.  1861  mentioned  by  you  is 
the  regular  rose  issue,  but  oxidized  by  time.  All  red 
stamps  witli  cochineal  are  subject  to  oxidization  from 
dampness,  sulphur  fumes,  etc. 

H.  C.  DniUR.—  I  congratulate  you  on  your  discovery 
of  a  rare  local. 

J.  B.  DAGGKTT.  —  There  are  three  varieties  of  the  1803 
cent  The  small  circle  is  sold  for  10c.,  the  large  circle 
for  40c.,  the  1-100  and  1-1000  for  35c.  The  Kossuth 
medal  has  no  value. 

W.  S.  FOWI.EK. — The  first  postage-stamp  ever  made 
was  the  1  p.  black  of  1840.  It  is  sold  for  Sc.  The  1  p. 
red  was  used  from  1841  to  1880.  There  are  many 
minor  varieties,  some  of  which  are  rare. 

E.  P.  Novrs.— The  silver  dollar  does  not  command  a 
premium. 

J.  S.  GUEKN. — No  premium  on  the  eagle  cent.  The 
Dutch  penny  has  no  value  in  the  U.  S. 

W.  H.  KKIIK. — The  two  Siam  provisional*,  1  att  on 
64  alts  and  2  atts  on  64  atts,  are  worth  lOc.  or  15c.  each. 
The  other  stamp  is  a  "sick-fund  "stamp  from  Ger- 
many. 

C.  C.  PEUPAI.U — The  difference  in  the  stamps  is 
caused  by  imperfect  printing. 

Asn. — The  $3  gold  pieces  do  not  command  any  pre- 
mium. The  dates  given  are  the  common  dates. 

M.  C.  W. — The  two  stamps  are  revenue  stamps  from 
Bosnia.  They  cannot  lie  used  in  payment  of  postage. 
Embossing  was  described  in  the  last  number  of  the 
ROUND  TABLE.  Stamps  vary  in  value  from  year  to 
year,  and  even  mouth  to  month.  Generally  there  is 
an  increase  year  by  year,  but  in  a  few  instances  they 
decrease  in  value.  No  catalogue  can  fix  prict-s.  and  the 
same  issue  may  be  cheap  or  dear,  according  to  the 
condition  of  the  individual  stamp. 

PllILATUS. 


A.  r>  V  K  R.T  I S  K  M  K  N  'i' S. 


Highest  of  all  in  Leavening  Power. — Latest  U.  S.  Gov't  Report 


Baking 


Powder 


ABSOLUTELY    PURE 


HARPER'S   NEW   CATALOGUE, 

Thoroughly  revised,  classified,  and  indexed,  will  be  sent 
by  mail  to  any  address  on  receipt  of  ten  cents. 


755 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Bicycleroute. 

Fair  bicyc/eroad. 
/way  s/afion. 
[^  Hill  or  poor  road. 
•f*  Hotel. 

if 
" 


BICYCLING 


This  Department  is  conducted  in  the  interest  of  Bicyclers,  and  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to 
answer  any  question  on  the  subject.  Our  maps  and  tours  contain  much  vnlu  Uile  ilnt:t  kindly 
supplied  from  the  official  maps  and  road-books  of  tile  League  of  American  Wheelmen.  Reeop- 
nizirs  tlie  value  of  the  work  being  done  by  the  L  A.  W.,  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to  furnish 
subscribers  with  membership  blanks  and  information  so  far  as  possible. 


T^HE  last  stage  of  the  run  from  New  York  to  Philadelphia 
is  given  in  this  week's  map.  The  distance  is  thirty- 
one  miles,  and  the  road,  good  iu  the  main,  is  greatly  helped 
by  being  generally  a  little  down  grade.  On  leaving  Treutou 
by  Warren  Street  the  rider  will  soon  come  to  the  Delaware 
River,  which  he  should  cross  by  the  Warren  Street  Bridge. 
Hi-  then  runs  into  Morrisville  on  the  other  side.  Imme- 
diately after  crossing,  turn  left  to  the  Bristol  turnpike,  aud 
on  reaching  this  turn  to  the  right  into  it.  The  run  is  direct 
then  to  Tullytowu  aud  theuce  to  Bristol.  Between  Tully- 
town  aud  Bristol  the  run  is  along  the  river,  and  at  times 
the  road  is  quite  good,  especially  if  rain  has  not  made  the 
reddish-yellow  earth  soggy  aud  muddy.  For  a  good  deal 
of  the  distance  from  Trenton  to  Bristol  —  a  distance  of  nine 
miles  or  more  —  you  will  do  well  to  take  the  side  path,  which 
here,  as  elsewhere  over  such  generally  level  country  as  New 
Jersey  aud  this  part  of  Pennsylvania,  is  likely  to  be  good. 

FROM  BRISTOL  TURN  TO  THE  RIGHT  at  the  hotel  aud  run 
on  to  the  cemetery,  where  you  should  take  the  left  fork,. 
which  will  carry  you  direct  to  Frankford-on-Pike,  a  dis- 
tance of  fifteen  miles.  From  here  the  run  to  the  outskirts 
of  Philadelphia  is  but  two  miles.  On  this  run  from  Bristol 
you  pass  by  Bridgewater,  Eddingtou,  Holmesburg,  near 
Tacony,  and  into  Frankford,  and  there  is  but  oue  hill  of 
any  note,  which  is  just  before  entering  Holmesburg. 
Indeed,  this  is  not  a  bad  hill  compared  with  some  of  the 
Western  Massachusetts  hills,  and  some  of  those  on  the 
New  York-Albany  route.  Entering  Philadelphia  you  run 
along  Lehigh  Avenue,  until  reaching  Broad  Street,  where 
you  turn  left  into  the  latter,  aud  rim  ou  to  the  public 
buildings  iu  the  centre  of  the  city. 

PHILADELPHIA  is  A  MAGNIFICENT  CITY  for  bicyclists,  and 
we  propose  next  week  to  give  a  map  of  all  the  asphalted 
and  macadamized  streets  within  the  city  limits,  which  iu  the 
coining  weeks  will  be  followed  by  short  routes  iu  the  vicinity. 
The  New  York-Philadelphia  rim  is  a  capital  oue,  and  can 
be  made  if  the  trip  is  taken  at  easy  stages,  as  we  have  de- 
scribed if,  by  any  one  -who  can  ride  a  wheel.  Many  -women 
could  do  it  without  difficulty,  and  it  has  the  added  advan- 
tawe  of  being  part  of  the  way  on  the  great  New  York- 
Washington  run.  So  that  if  you  arrive  at  Philadelphia, 
and  want  a  little  longer  journey,  especially  if  it  is  in  the 
fall  of  the  year,  and  Washington  is  in  full  feather,  there  is 
a  fine  opportunity  for  a  good  long  trip  of  easy  stages  to- 
Washington  and  return  to  New  York.  Inquiries  are  con- 
stantly being  made  to  the  Department  regarding  trips,  and 
the  best  roads  from  one  town  or  city  to  another.  Partly 
because  of  the  absolute  inadequacy  of  space,  and  partly  be- 
cause maps  of  many  of  these  routes  could  not  be  judiciously 
published,  we  have  been  unable  to  answer  these  questions. 

wever,  in  regard  to 
isiou  in  the  State- 

rhere  you  reside,  you  pay  |2,  and  receive  a  copy  of  the  road 
book  of  that  State,  if  one  has  been  issued,  besides  maps 
showing  the  best  bicycle  roads.  These  are  sent  you  free 
of  charge.  You  can  procure  road  books  of  other  States  by 
•writing  to  the  Secretary  of  the  L.A.W.  Division  for  the 
State  of  --  ,  naming  the  particular  State  iu  question. 
These  will  cost  from  $1  to  $2  each.  Using  these  there  will 
be  no  difficulty  in  laying  out  the  best  roads  between  al- 
most any  two  points  you  desire. 

MOTH  —Map  of  New  York  city'asplmlted  streets  in  No.  809.  Map  of 
roule  from  New  York  to  Tarrytown  in  No.  810.  New  York  to  Stamford, 
Connecticut  in  No  Sit.  New  York  lo  Stnten  Island  in  No.  812.  New 
Jersej  from  HeSbohen  to  Pine  Brook  in  No.  813.  Brooklyn  in  No.  814. 
Brooklyn  to  Babylon  in  No.  815.  Brooklyn  to  Norlhport  in  No.  816. 
T-irrvtmin  lo  Ponghkeepsde  in  No.  SIT.  Ponghkeepsie  to  Hudson  in, 
No  SIS  Hudson  to  Albany  in  No.  819.  Tottenville  to  Trenton  in  820. 


A  general  suggestion  can  be  made,  howeve 
this  matter.     If  you  join  the  L.A.W.  Divisic 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


.  THE 
fPUDDING 


Tliis  Department  ii  conducted  in  the  interest  of  Girls  and  \,.nni! 

W ii    iiii.l  ilie    E.lit.ir  will  be  pleased  to  answer   any  qu,..ti..n  <>M 

the  subject  so  fur  as  |,n*sible.     Correspondents  should  address  Editor. 

GOING  to  the  country  ?     City  girls  think 
as  much  of  their  summers  among  green 
lii-lils  ns  country  girls  do  of  coming  to  lowu, 
and  one  cau  say  no  more  than  that. 

SCHOOL  is  over,  and  the  lessons  done  with 
for  the  present,  and  now  you  may  enjoy  the 
sense  of  freedom  from  rules,  which  is  one 
•of  tho  really  charming  things  iu  a  vacation. 
If  I  were,  you,  though.  I  would  not  spend  all 
the  summer  weeks  without  learning  some- 
thing, either  about  Nature  and  her  wonders, 
•or  else  about  housekeeping  and  sewing. 

AT  Aunty's  iu  the  mountains  help  is  hard 
•to  get,  and  Aunty  and  her  daughters  make 
their  own  beds,  and  do  much  of  the  house- 
work outside  of  the  kitchen.  Do  you  know 
liow  to  make  a  bed?  It  looks  very  easy, 
yet  there  is  an  art  iu  doing  it  well. 

IN  the  first  place  you  must  thoroughly 
air  your  bed  every  day.  Pull  the  bed- 
clothes apart,  set  the  mattress  on  end,  if  it 
is  in  two  pieces  so  that  yon  cau  mauage  it, 
and  open  the  windows  widely.  Leave  bed 
and  bedding  this  way,  exposed  to  air  aud 
sunlight,  for  at  least  an  hour.  Then  spread 
your  under  sheet  smoothly  on  the  mattress, 
tucking  it  well  in  at  the  top.  Similarly 
tuck  the  upper  sheet  iu  with  great  care  at 
the  bottom  of  the  bed,  so  that  it  will  not 
work  loose  and  leave  the  feet  of  a  restless 
sleeper  exposed.  Be  sure  in  laying  on  your 
blankets  that  the  open  end  of  them  is  at  the 
top  of  the  bed.  A  person  often  requires  a 
second  thickness  of  blanket  before  morn- 
ing, and  can  arrange  it  as  she  wishes  if  the 
closed  end  of  the  blanket  is  at  the  bottom  of 
•the  bed. 

Now  comes  your  dainty  upper  spread,  to 
be  folded  up  and  laid  aside  at  night,  your 
bolster,  and  your  pillows.  I  would  enjoy 
sleeping  in  a  bed  made  by  one  of  my  girls  if 
she  followed  these  directions. 

OF  course  you  are  going  to  begin  making 
jour  Christmas  presents  this  summer.  The 
beautiful  centre-pieces,  doilies,  aud  other 
hits  of  embroidery  which  you  intend  to  send 
here  and  there  to  dear  friends  must  be 
planned  for  and  finished,  from  the  first  care- 
ful stitch  to  the  last,  during  your  summer 
leisure.  A  set  of  towels  or  handkerchiefs 
with  a  monogram  in  the  corner  of  each  will 
delight  mamma,  and  Arthur  will  be  very 
much  pleased  if  his  sister  makes  a  cover  for 
his  mantel  or  his  chiffonier.  It  will  be  well 
to  select  your  materials  and  take  them  in 
your  trunk,  and  then  set  apart  a  definite 
part  of  each  day  for  your  work. 

SOME  of  you  belong  to  the  Needle-work 
Guild,  and  are  pledged  to  send  a  certain 
number  of  finished  garments  to  the  head- 
quarters of  the  society  in  the  autumn. 
You  must  make  these  little  garments,  slips, 
petticoats,  aprons,  or  whatever  they  may 
be,  with  the  utmost  nicety.  Let  only  lov- 
ing, careful  stitches  go  into  your  work  for 
the  poor. 


LAST  summer  a  beautiful  girl  from  town 
found  part  of  her  pleasure  in  teaching  some 
little  children  in  a  sea-side  village  how  to 
sew.  Her  little  class  came  to  her  vine- 
shaded  veranda  every  week,  and  there  she 
showed  them  how  to  hem  and  over  -hand 
and  fell  and  back-stitch,  and  when  work 
was  over  she  gave  them  a  little  treat  of 
candy  and  fruit.  Do  you  suppose  they  for- 
got her  when  the  long  winter  came,  and 
don't  you  think  they  are  hoping  to  see  her 
again  this  summer  .' 

WILL  you  all  take  notice  that  if  you  wish 
letters  answered  in  this  column  you  must 
send  them  a  fortnight  in  advance  of  the  oc- 
casion? It  is  impossible  for  me  to  answer 
iu  "next  week's  paper"  an  inquiry  which 
comes  to  me  on  the  Saturday  or  Monday 
just  before  an  issue.  Please  give  your- 
selves and  me  a  little  longer  time. 


I 


A   READY  ANSWER. 

THE  poorer  classes  among  the  Maltese 
have  a  ready  wit,  if  the  story  told  by 
a  returned  traveller  is  true.  An  English 
officer  stationed  at  Malta,  failing  to  make 
a  Maltese  understand  what  he  meant,  called 
the  poor  man  "  a  fool."  Understanding  this 
much,  the  man,  who  had  travelled  about  a 
good  deal,  though  he  did  not  understand 
English,  replied  by  asking,  "Do  you  speak 
Maltese  t"  "  No."  "  Do  you  speak  Arabic  ?" 
"  No."  "  Do  you  speak  Greek  ?"  "  No."  "  Do 
you  speak  Italian  ?"  "No."  "Then  if  I  be 
one  fool,  yon  be  four  fools." 


A  POUND  OF  FACTS 

is  worth  oceans  of  theories.  More  infants  are  suc- 
cessfully raised  on  the  Gail  Borden  Eagle  Brand  Con- 
densed Milk  than  upon  any  other  food.  Infant 
Health  is  a  valuable  pamphlet  for  mothers.  Send  your 
address  to  N.  Y.  Condensed  Milk  Co.,  N.  Y.— [Adv. 


U^Dvn 
une  CA3  Go 


Chudda  Shawls 

IN  TAN  SHADES, 
from    75C.      to     3.50    each 

Less  than  half  price. 

1  916  dt. 


NEW  YORK. 
757 


Columbia 

Bicycle 

advertising  has  for  months 
been  conspicuous  by  its  ab- 
sence. 1895  Columbias  at 
$100 — finest,  easiest-running 
bicycles  ever  produced  at 
any  price — have  been  doing 
their  own  advertising. 

For  the   first  time  this   year  we  can  assure 

reasonably  prompt  d'eliverv  of  regn- 

larly  equipped  Columbias 

and  Hartfords. 

You  See  Them  Everywhere 

Pope  Manufacturing  Co. 

Gf  neral  Offices  and  Factories,  Hartford,  Conn 

BRANCH  STORES:  Boston,  New  York. 
Chicago,  Providence,  Philadelphia, 
Buffalo,  Brooklyn,  Baltimore,  Wash- 
ington, San  Francisco. 


Stamps, 


100  all  dif.  Venezuela,  Costa  Rica,  etc.,  only 
JT3I    Hit-.;  20U  ;M  dif.  Hay  ti.Hawnii.etc., only  50c. 
Ag'tswautedatSOperctcom.  LMFKEE1 
C.  A. Stegmaii  n,2722  EadsAv., St. Louis,Mo. 


I  f\f\  all  different,  China,  etc.,  10c.;  5  Saxony,  10c.; 

I  40  Spain,  4uc.;  6  Tunis,  14c.;    10  U.  S.  Rev- 

I  UU  enues,  lOc.  Agts.  wtd.,  <M%  com.;  '95  list  free. 

CRITTENDEN  &  BORGMAN  CO.,  Detroit,  Mich. 


Commit  to 


Memory. 

In  Qermany  the  children  in  the  schools  Commit 
to  Memory  the  words  they  are  accustomed  to 
sing,  and  they  are  seldom  at  a  loss  for  Music  any- 
where; especially  when  great  numbers  are  as- 
sembled do  they  sing  together,  in  mighty  chorus, 
the  songs  and  hymns  of  the  Fatherland  without 
reference  to  a  book  "for  the  words."  This  is 
a  grand  result  coming  out  of  the  Schools.  In 
America  too  much  time  is  occupied  in  teaching, 
not  enough  in  learning,  and,  as  a  result,  when 
we  want  to  sing— perhaps  only  the  National 
Hymn— "nobody  knows  the  words."  Let  it  be 
regarded  an  essential  part  of  School  work,  daily 
or  weekly,  for  Teacher  and  pupil  to  Commit  to 
Memory  some  good  thing  in  Prose  or  Verse. 

The  Franklin  Square  Song-  Collection  comprises 
Eieht  Numbers,  which  may  be  had  bound  sepa- 
rately or  in  different  styles.  These  numbers  may 
also  be  had  in  two  volumes  at  $3.00  each.  For  full 
list  of  contents,  sixteen  hundred  songs  and  hymns, 
alphabetically  arranged,  address 

Haxper  &  Brothers,  New  York. 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Something  New  In  Puzzles. 

Here  is  something  quite  new  in  puzzles.  There 
is  contained  in  the  following  story  a  foui;-line  verse 
from  one  of  Alice  Gary's  most  familiar  poems. 
The  first  two  lines  contain  seven  words,  the  third 
line  six,  and  the  last,  eight.  Every  other  line 
rhymes.  The  verse's  subject  is  a  moralone — about 
right  living.  It  is  not  concealed  in  any  way.  It  is 
not  made  up  of  parts  of  words,  nor  of  letters  omit- 
ted, or  words  misspelled.  But  it  is  there— openly 
and  plainly  there.  Who  can  find  ir  ? 

The  author  of  this  puzzle  is  Mi<s  M;unie  Denton, 
who  lives  in  Grand  i:  ipids,  Mich.  No  prizes  are 
offered  for  finding  this  verse,  hut  we  hope  you 
will  try  to  find  it.  We  will  print  it  in  a  week  or 
two.  The  following  is  the  puzzle  : 

This  is  the  true  story,  dear  aunt  Ruth  and 
Ulyses,  of  my  trip  to  Europe.  We  started  October 
twenty-fifth,  from  Kockport,  Texas.  How  many 
days  we  were  upon  the  water  I  cannot  tell,  as 
Sarah,  my  sister,  was  very  ill  on  the  way,  and  I  de- 
voted myself  constantly  to  her.  Nevertheless  we 
at  last  arrived  at  our  destination,  which  was  Brus- 
sels, where  Eva  Irving  was  awaiting  us.  Near 
our  hotel  was  a  shop  owned  by  Gustav  Narheisen, 
whose  sign  bore  this— 'Oysters  To  Sell.' 

Every  member  of  the  family  appeared  in  the 
window  as  our  carriage  stopped  at  the  hotel,  but 
auntie  explained  to  us  that  their  neighbors  were 
particular  friends  of  hers,  and  it  was  out  of  com- 
pliment to  us  that  they  were  watching  our  advent 
so  eagerly.  Eleven  heads  we  counted  before  we 
entered  our  hotel,  the  Meisterschaft,  where  we  ate 
a  hearty  supper,  and  I  retired  at  once. 

Next  day  Gustav  called,  bringing  his  wife,  Irene, 
and  his  two  daughters.  Nerissa  and  Dorcas.  Our 
first  impression,  I  must  say,  was  not  favorable; 
but  Nerissa  was  really  a  beautiful  girl.  Genuine 
worth,  however,  cannot  long  copceal  itself,  and  we 
were  not  slow  to  discover  the  noble  qualities  of 
Eva's  friends.  Auntie  took  us  out  next  day.  Com- 
ing home,  we  found  auntie's  maid  packing  her 
trunk,  and  learned  that  we  were  to  start  for  Havre 
that  afternoon.  Delighted  at  the  thought  of  new 
scenes  were  we.  After  discussion  we  decHt-il  to 
go  by  an  overland  route  as  far  as  the  river  V'unie. 
down  which  we  sailed  until  we  reached  them«mrh. 
Then  from  there  we  sailed  to  Havre. 

As  we  were  tired  out  we  were  glad  to  rest  at  the 
Thiers  house.  Going  out  next  day,  we  met  an  old 
friend, Olive  Easton,  who  had  married  and  settled 
in  a  small  village  on  the  Seine,  near  Beauveau. 
Yet  we  were  glad  to  leave  this  lively  seaport  town 
behind  us  and  sail  up  the  Seine  again.  Our  <lesti- 
nation  this  time  was  Marseilles.  Entering  it,  we 
purchased  a  copy  of  the  Literary  Idler.  This  we 
hastened  to  peruse,  reading  very  eagerly  tin-  tn-ws 
from  Toulon  and  Tameraque.  Lest  inquiries 
should  be  made  respecting  this  paper,  let  me  say 
that  it  is  one  of  the  few  English  papers  published 
in  foreign  cities. 

Gustav  sent  us  a  letter  containing  an  invitation 
to  the  wedding  of  his  daughter  Olivia,  which  was 
to  take  place  in  October,  and  as  this  was  December, 
he  thought  that  we  might  be  there  in  time.  Neris- 
sa also  sent  us  a  note,  telling  us  in  confidence  that 
her  marriage  was  to  follow  Olivia's,  as  soon  as  her 
Theodore  was  able  to  provide  a  cozy  home  for 
her.  I  was  anxious  to  attend  the  wedding. 

Next,  morning  while  poring  over  a  copy  of  ]>r<  ams, 
with  Raphael,  the  hotel  cat,  curled  up  in  rny  lap, 
Eva  entered  and  announced  that  an  old  friend  of 
ours  from  Austin  was  in  Marseilles  and  would  call 
upon  us  the  next  afternoon.  •  I  was  in  a  flutter  of 
joy,  and  forgetting  my  book,  ran  away  to  Ml  mv 
sister  of  the  good  news.  Nothing  ever  ruffled  rny 
sister's  composure,  but  the  light  in  her  eyes  told 
that  she  would  be  glad  to  see  George  Ogden.  Five 
years  ago  we  three  played  together  as  children, 
George  always  treating  my  sister  with  admiring 
deference,  but  finding  fault  with  me  whenever  op- 
portunity offered. 

Ruby  Eliot  had  written  to  us  that  her  cousin 
from  Austin  was  wintering  in  Toulon,  but  we  had 
nut  i  IK  night  of  meeting  him  here.  The  next  after- 
noon our  maid  Harriette  was  nearly  crazed  by  tbe 
demands  made  upon  her  time  and  taste.  I  gave 
rip  in  despair,  and  confined  myself  to  looking  like 
a  fright  in  a  dark  red  silk.  Not  so  with  my  sister, 
who  was  perfectly  exquisite  in  a  dove-colored  silk 


and  white  lace.  George  called  at  half  past  four, 
and,  of  course,  gave  all  his  attention  to  Sarah 

The  sequel  to  this  s'ory  cannot  be  written,  but 
those  two  were  only  friends,  after  all,  and  some 
people  admire  elves  in  red  dresses  more  than 
saints  in  gray.  Our  next  move  was  cross  country 
by  rail,  and  after  many  days  sailing  through  bays, 
channels,  and  straits  we  landed  at  Dover,  where 
we  ivrnaine'l  until  October,  when  we  crossed  the 
strait  t<»  llruss.-K  arriving  in  time  for  the  double 
wedding. 

Yesterday  something  happened  to  convince  me 
that  there  was  no  place  like  Austin  in  \vMHi  to 
spend  the  rest  of  my  days.  Now  as  we  are  about 
to  return  to  our  native  country  a  slight  feeling  of 
disappointment  will  arise  that  Dover  was  the  only 
city  in  Britain  visited  by  us.  Yet  how  glad  we 
shall  all  be  to  return  to  our  native  land. 


Seeing  the  "  Defender's  "  Launching. 

I  really  wish  I  had  had  every  member  of  the 
Round  Table  that  is  interested  in  boats  with  me 
on  Saturday,  June  29th.  On  that  memorable  day  I 
went  with  a  party  of  friends  on  board  of  a  sloop- 
yacht  to  witness  the  launching  of  the  Defender. 
We  left  Warren  about  9.30  A.  M.  We  dropped  an- 
chor in  Bristol  Harbor  just  in  time,  for  about  five 
minutes  later  the  big  boat  glided  down  the  ways 
amid  the  banging  of  guns  and  the  shrill  whistles 
from  the  numerous  steamboats.  The  only  thing  to 
mar  the  occasion  was  that  the  launching  was  not 
as  successful  as  expected,  for  the  boat  stuck  on 
the  ways  and  was  not  floated  till  two  days  later. 

As  soon  as  the  launching  was  over,  I  looked 
around  to  see  what  yachts  were  in  the  harbor. 
At  our  left,  was  the  Colonist,  the  practice  boat  for 
the  crew  of  the  Defender,  consisting  of  thirty-three 
men.  Among  the  other  yachts  were  the  Valiant, 
the  handsome  Conqueror,  of  F.  W.  Vanderbilt,  the 
Shearwater,  Sakonnet,  and  many,  many  others.  The 
harbor,  indeed,  presented  a  beautiful  picture  from 


AT    THE         DK.FKMiKK  >         I.Al'XCHING. 


the  shore.  After  lunch,  my  chum  and  myself  went 
in  one  of  the  row-boats  up  near  the  cup-defender. 
thus  getting  a  finer  view  of  it  than  ever. 

Souvenirs  have  been  floating  around  Bristol  and 
vicinity  for  a  month  in  the  shape  of  aluminum 
rings  ;  but  other  souvenirs  were  sold  on  the  launch- 
ing-day.  Some  were  stick  -pins  made  from  the 
bronze  of  tbe  rudder-post.  A  bout  3.30  a  stiff  breeze 
set  in,  and  many  of  the  yachts  took  advantage  of 
it  and  started  out  on  a  spin-  When  we  got  back 
to  our  yacht  the  waves  were  dancing  merrily 
about  its  bow,  much  to  our  delight. 

When  we  got  "under  way"  and  fairly  flew  out 
of  the  harbor,  the  crew  of  the  C'olo»ia  took  off  their 
caps  and  waved  to  us  (Captain  "  Hank  Huff"  also), 
and  it  is  needless  to  say  the  salute  was  returned. 
and  kept  up  for  at  least  three  minutes.  With  our 
spinnaker  "  set"  we  just  skimmed  homeward, 
reaching  Warren  in  an  hour.  The  spray  came 

758 


over  the  boat  as  we  sped  along.  For  my  part,  I 
got  an  extra  coat  of  tan.  1  should  like  to  know  if 
any  other  members  of  the  Table  were  at  the  launch- 
inu'.  Ln>E  DE  ALCAZAK,  R.  T.  L. 

WARRBN,  R.  I. 


Questions  anJ>  answers. 

Ida  Fitzpatrick  :  We  believe  there  is  no  active 
Chapter  in  Hempstead  now.  J.  C.  Failing  :  There  is 
no  active  mineral  Chapter.  Can't  \v  hair  one  in 
Oregon?  All  Chapters  interested  in  minerals  also 
collect  stones,  flowers,  etc.  Noah  Ruark  :  It  is  like- 
ly that  we  shall  have  some  attractive  offers  to  I 
make  to  members  in  September.  Watch  fur  them. 
They  are  not  quite  ready  now.  Will  Frances  A. 
Rice  send  her  address,  that  we  may  return  some 
stamps? 

We  have  to  thank  Katherine  Warren  for  her 
morsel  about  Bermuda.  We  fear,  however,  we 
shall  not  have  space  for  it.  Does  any  member 
know  of  a  rule,  condition,  or  whatever  it  might  be 
called,  regarding  the  title  of  the  Emperor  of  Ger- 
many, or  German  Emperor— one  that  was  fixed  at 
tbe  time  William  I.  was  proclaimed  at  Versailles? 
The  question  is  whether  "German  Emperor"  is 
the  correct  title,  or  "  Emperor  of  Germany,"  and 
why?  Who  knows  about  it? 

Tom  S.Winston  says  he  is  immensely  f.md  of 
machinery.  Are  you?  He  lives  at  Abbeville,  La. 
—away  down  near  the  Texas  line.  He  wishes  the 
Table  had  a  Chapter  of  amateur  machinists  or  en- 
gineers. He  may  tell  us  about  that  stock  ranch. 
Isabel  McC.  Lemmon,  Englewood,  N.J.,asks  if  El- 
sie G.  Unruh  will  send  her  address?  She  wishes  to 
forward  some  pressed  flowers.  Berthold  Landau, 
310  East  Third  Street,  New  York,  wants  to  join  a 
literary  Chapter. 

Dudley  Polk  asks  if  tbe  "literature  of  to-day 
tends  toward  the  realistic  or  the  idealistic."  We 
believe  the  critics  say  it  tends 
--.  toward  the  former.  Some  say 
that  they  think  the  day  of  lit- 
erary realism  is  about  over. 
G.  G.  B.  asks  the  cost  of  a  chick- 
en-coop such  as  Mr.  Chase  re- 
cently described.  The  cost  of 
material  varies  so,  according 
to  locality,  that  it  is  difficult 
to  name  any  fixed  sum.  The 
cost  can  easily  be  figured  out, 
as  the  drawing  is  made  ac- 
cording to  a  scale.  Find  the 
number  of  square  feet  of  lum- 
ber required,  and  the  cost  of 
the  window-frame  at  any  lum- 
ber dealer's. 

C.  L.  B.  Beach,  Hull,  Iowa, 
wants  to  trade  pressed  flow- 
ers. He  also  wants  specimens 
of  the  "fly -catcher"  and  of 
the  "pitcher-plant."  Andrew 
Neill :  The  numbers  of  HAR- 
PER'S YOUNG  PEOPLE,  Novem- 
ber to  April,  and  of  HARPER'S 
ROUND  TABLE,  April  30tb  to  the 
end  of  the  year,  will  be  bound 
into  one  volume,  not  two.  Be- 
ginning with  the  change  in 
form  and  name,  pages  contain- 
ing advertisements  will  be  bound  into  the  volume, 
not  cut  out  as  formerly.  Platinum  and  iridium 
are  found  in  the  Ural  Mountains,  in  Brazil,  Cali- 
fornia, and  Ceylon  Th'-y  are  original  or  primary 
substances,  not  manufactures.  Platinum  is  used 
in  telegraph  keys,  and  indium,  being  very  hard, 
for  nibs  in  the  ends  of  gold  pens. 

Helen  P.  Hubbard  :  Common  oyster-shells  con- 
tain lime,  nitrogen,  iron,  sulphur,  manganese.  HI;IL,'- 
m-sia,  flour,  bromine,  phosphoric  acid,  and  iodim-, 
and,  ground  to  a  powder,  were  once  used  as  merli- 
cine.  since  all  of  the  substances  are  good  for  Imikl- 
ing  up  the  system-  Walter  Henry,  of  Wisconsin, 
asks  where  he  can  procure  silk-worm  eggs.  We 
think  he  can  get  them  from  the  American  Silk-Cul- 
ture Association,  Arch  Street,  Philadelphia,  Pa.,  or 
from  the  Department  of  Agriculture.  Washington, 
D.  C.  At  any  rate,  both  will  be  glad  to  give  him 
information  where  he  can  get  them. 


HARPER'S  EOUND  TABLE 


RICH  TIMES. 

CALIFORNIA  was  a  rich  spot  for  olie  to 
live  in  Hack  in  tin-  lil'iic-.  'T  In-fore 
then.  The  follow-in;;  arr.uint  of  nuggets  of 
gold  found  in  California  in  thr  olcliln\s.  re- 
cently given  by  an  authority,  almost  makes 
one  wish  that  one  hail  been  living  there  at 
that  time,  although  the  hardships  endured 
by  the  pioneer  si-t  tiers  were  .something  which 
uo  amount  of  gold  could  compensate  for. 

The  largest  mass  of  gold  ever  found  in 
California  was  that  dug  out  at  Carson  Hill, 
Calaveras  County,  in  1*54.  It  weighed  195 
pounds.  Other  lumps  weighing  several 
pounds  were  found  at  the  same  place.  Au- 
gust 18,  l«iO,  \V.  A.  Farish  and  Harry  Warner 
took  from  the  Monumental  Quartz  Mines, 
Sierra  County,  a  mass  of  gold  and  quartz 
weighing  133  pounds.  It  was  sold  to  E.  B. 
Woodward,  of  San  Francisco,  for  $21,(W>  :••!. 
It  w-as  exhibited  at  Woodward's  Gardens 
for  some  time,  then  was  melted  down.  It 
yielded  gold  to  the  value  of  $17,654  94. 

August  4,  1858,  Ira  A.  Willard  found  on 
the  west  branch  of  the  Feather  River  a 
ungget  which  weighed  54  pounds  avoirdu- 
pois before  and  49i  pounds  after  melting. 
A  nugget  dug  at  Kelsey,  El  Dorado  County, 
was  sold  for  S4700.  In  1864  a  ungget  was 
found  in  the  Middle  Fork  of  the  American 
River,  two  miles  from  Michigan  Blutf,  that 
weighed  18  pounds  10  ounces,  and  was  sold 
for  S4-JH4  for  the  tinder.  In  1850  at  Corona, 
Tuolumne  County,  was  found  a  gold-quartz 
nugget  weighing  151  pounds  6  ounces.  Half 
a  mill'  east  of  Columbia, Tuolumne  County, 
near  the  Kuapp  Ranch,  a  Mr.  Strain  found 
a  nugget  which  weighed  50  pounds  avoir- 
dupois. It  yielded  ss.-)HU  when  melted.  In 
1849  was  found  in  Sullivan's  Creek,  Tuo- 
lumne County,  a  nugget  that  weighed  28 
pounds  avoirdupois.  In  1871  a  nugget  was 
found  in  Kanaka  Creek,  Sierra  County,  that 
weighed  9t>  pounds.  At  Rattlesnake  Creek 
the  same  year  a  nugget  weighing  106  pounds 
2  ounces  was  found.  Aquartz  bowlder  found 
in  French  Gulch,  Sierra  County.  l^~>l,  yielded 
$8000  in  gold.  In  1867  a  bov.  Ider  of  gold 
quartz  was  found  in  what  is  known  as  the 
"Bowlder  Gravel"  claim,  from  which  many 
smaller  gold-quartz  nuggets  have  been  taken 
at  various  times. 

Outside  of  California  few  nuggets  of  note 
have  been  found  iu  any  of  the  Pud  tic  coast 
States  and  Territories.  The  largest  nugget 
ever  found  iu  Nevada  was  one  taken  out 
of  the  Osceola  Placer  Mine  about  twenty 
years  ago.  It  weighed  24  pounds,  and  is 
supposed  to  have  contained  nearly  84000  in 
gold.  A  hired  man  found  and  stole  it.  but 
repenting,  gave  up  to  the  owners  in  a  month 
or  two  over  $2000  in  small  bars — all  he  had 
left  of  the  big  chunk.  In  the  same  mine, 
about  a  year  ago,  a  nugget  worth  $2190  was 
found.  Montana's  largest  nugget  w-as  one 
found  by  Ed.  Rising  at  Snow-Shoe  Gulch,  on 
tin-  Little  Blackfoot  River.  It  was  worth 
$:;:>5ii.  It  la\  t  welve  feet  below  the  surface, 
and  about  a  foot  above  the  bedrock.  Col- 
orado's biggest  nuggetwas  found  atBreckin- 
ridge.  It  weighed  1  pounds,  but  was  mixed 
with  lead,  carbonate,  and  quartz. 

JACK.  "What  two  professions  are  the 
same  ?" 

BOBBY.  "  Don't  know." 

JACK.  ''The  dentist  and  the  artist;  they 
both  have  to  draw  ." 


IVORY  SOAP 


IT  FLOATS 


Try  it  for  just  one  wash.  Ivory  Soap  costs  a  little  more,  but  it  takes 
less  to  do  the  work,  and  how  much  whiter  clothes  are  when  they  have 
been  washed  with  it. 


THE  PROCTER  &  GAMBLE  Co..  CIN'TI. 


EARN  A  TRICYCLE! 
We  wish  to  introduce  our 
Teas,  spices,  ui  I*  I  Uaking 
Powder.  Sell  80  Ibs.  and 
we  will  give  you  a  Fairy 
Tricycle;  sell  25  Ibs. for 
aSoMSUvei  W;iti:haml 
Chain;  50  Ibs.  fora  Gold 
Watch  and  ( 'h:i  in ;  75  Ibs. 
for  a.  Bicycle  ;  10  Ibs. 
for  a  Beautiful  (iold 
Eing.  Express  prepaid 
If  cash  is  sent  for  goods. 
"Write  for  catalog  and 
Order  sheet. 

W.  G.  BAKER, 

SPRINGFIELD,  MASS. 


•  WONDER  CABINET  FREE.  Miaainp  Link 

IPmile,    Devil's    Bottle.    Pocket   Camera.  Latest 

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ind.  Total  Value  60c.  Sent  free  nith  immeirf* 

talocue  nf  HXIO  Bargains  for  lOc  forFoatage. 

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VACATION     READING 

From    Harper's  Young    People    Series. 


Iff  ii  at  rated.      Post  8co,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1  S3  each. 


The  Mystery  of  Abel  Forefinger.     By  WILLIAM 
DRYSDALE. 

Raftmates.  —  Canoemates.  —  Campmates.  — 
Dor/mates.     By  KIRK  MUNROE. 


l^oung  Lucretia,  and  Other  Stofies.     By  MARY 

E.  WILKINS. 

A  Boy's   Town.     By  W.  1).  HOWELLS. 
Diego  Pinzon.     By  J.  R.  CORYELL. 


I  ft  nut  rated.      Square  Himo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1  OO  each. 


Wakulla.  —  The  Flamingo  Feather.  —  Derrick 
Sterling.  —Chrystal,  Jack  &  Co.,  and  Delta 
B/xby.  By  KIRK  MUNKOK. 

The  Talking  Leaves.— Two  Arrows.  — The  Red 
Mustang.  By  W.  O.  SK>I>I>ARD. 

Prince  Lazybones,  and  Other  Stories.  By  Mrs. 
W.  J.  HAYS. 

The  Ice  Queen.     By  ERNEST  INGERSOLL. 
Uncle  Peter's  Trust.     By  GEORGE  B.  PERRY. 


Toby  Tyler.— Mr.  Stubbs's  Brother.— Tim  and 
Tip. — Left  Behind. — Raising  the  "  Pearl.  "- 
Silent  Pete.     By  JAMES  OTIS. 

The  Four  Macnicols.     By  WILLIAM  BLACK. 

The  Lost  City.  —  Into  Unknown  Seas.  By 
DAVID  KER. 

The  Story  of  Music  and  Musicians.  — Jo's 
Opportunity. — Rolf  House. — Mildred's  Bar- 
gain, and  Other  Stories.  —  Han.  —  The 
Colonel's  Money.  —  The  Household  of  Glen 
Holly.  By  LUCY  C.  LILLIE. 


Published  by  HARPER   &    BROTHERS,  New  York. 

or  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  will  be  mailed  by  the  publishers,  postage  prepaid,  on  receipt  of  the  price. 
7o9 


WICKED    WILLIE'S    DREAM. 

THE   COMBINATION    OF   TOO    MUCH    UUOKLFUEKRY    PPDPING    AND    A   GUILTY    OONSOIBNOE   AFTEK    ANNOYING   UlS   SISTER'S   PET    KITTEN. 


TKACHEU.  "Now,  girls,  you  all  know  what  liquid  measure 
is.  Little  Alice  may  tell  me  what  measure  treats  of  iucbes, 
feet,  and  yards." 

E  ALICE.  "  Tape  measure,  teacher." 


AUNTIE  was  a  Southern  mammy  who  had  come  North 
•with  the  family  she  was  born  in,  for  the  first  time  in  her 
life.  The  sights  and  peculiarities  of  the  Northern  people, 
so  strange  to  her  eyes,  caused  her  a  great  deal  of  trouble 
and  confusion,  and  also  provoked  much  mirth.  Now 
Auntie  had  seen  but  little  ice  in  the  South,  and  one  very 
warm  day  she  addressed  her  young  missus:  "Lor',  chile, 
I's  dot  a  powerful  headdake." 

"Why,  Auntie,  I'll  get  you  some  ice,"  which  the  young 
lady  did,  telling  her  to  put  some  in  a  handkerchief  around 
her  head,  and  take  a  small  piece  in  her  mouth. 

Auntie  started  to  do  as  she  was  directed,  but  evidently 
•overdid  it,  for  in  a  short  time  she  burst  into  the  dining- 
room,  shouting, 

"  O  Lor',  missee,  I's  frizzed,  I's  gwiue  ter  die.  O  Lor1  er 
massy,  gim  me  some  hot  water,  quick,  befo'I's  a  dead  mam- 
my." 

"Why,  what  on  earth  is  tlie  matter,  Auntie?" 

After  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  the  following  explanation 
was  given : 

"I's  done  swallow  dat  piece  of  ice  as  youse  tole  me,  an' 
it  stuck  in  my  chest,  an' den  it  began  ter  freeze  all  my  chest, 
an' I  done  feel  it  er  reachiu'fer  iny  heart.  Dat  settled  it 
sure'nough.  Xothin' would  stop  that  freczin' till  I  swal- 
lered  de  hot  water  ter  melt  it.  Yes,  I's  better  now,  but  I 
•don'  want  no  more  ob  dat  ice." 


TEACHER.  "  If  your  father  was  to  hear  of  your  bad  con- 
duct it  would  make  his  hair  turn  gray." 

BOBBY.  "I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  my  father  hasn't  any 
hair  left." 


TUMMY.  "Why  does  the  sun  rise  in  the  east?" 
BOBBY.  "  I  guess  there  must  be  a  (y)east  factory  over 
that  way." 


FIRST  BOY.  "  Did  you  hurt  yourself  when  you  fell  that 
time  ?" 

SECOND  BOY.  "Nop,uot  when  I  fell;  it  was  when  I  hit 
the  ground  I  hurt  myself." 


THE  HORNETS'  NEST. 
THE  hornets'  nest  is  football-shaped 

About  the  rose-bush  curled, 
But  I  would  never  raise  my  foot 

To  kick  it  for  the  world. 


A  GENTLEMAN  once  asked  a  lawyer  what  he  would  do 
provided  he  had  loaned  a  man  $500,  and  the  man  left  the 
country  without  sending  any  acknowledgments. 

"  Why,  that's  simple  ;  just  write  him  to  send  an  acknow- 
ledgment for  the  $5000  you  lent  him,  and  he  will  doubtless 
reply  stating  it  was  only  $500.  That  will  suffice  for  a  re- 
ceipt, and  you  can  proceed  against  him  if  necessary." 


760 


HARPERS 


ROUND  TABLE 


Copyright,  1895,  by  HABPRB  &  BROTHERS.     All  Rights  Reserved. 


PUBLISHED    WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI. — NO.  822. 


NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY.  JULY  30,  1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO    DOLLARS    A    YEAR. 


r 


JOE'S     SCHEME. 


BY    J.    SANFORD     BARNES,    JUN. 


THE  sharp  crackliug  of  the  gravel,  aud  the  sound  of  a 
horse's  hoofs  coining  up  the  driveway  which  led  to 
the  Thompsons'  house,  told  Joe  that  Ned  was  going  to  be 
as  prompt  as  he  always  was  when  the  two  boys  had  made 
any  appointment,  so  he  dropped  his  book,  and  ran  to  the 
door  just  as  a  neat  little  buckboard  pulled  up  at  the  door- 
step. 

"Hello,  Ned!"  said  Joe  ;  "just  on  time.  I  knew  that  was 
you  the  moment  I  heard  the  rig  turn  in  the  gate.  Wait 
till  I  get  my  hat  and  I'll  drive  to  the  stable  with  you.  Say, 
will  you  stay  to  lunch  7  Jerry  '11  take  care  of  him,"  he 
nodded  toward  the  little  roan,  aud  disappeared  in  the  door- 
way. In  a  moment  he  was  back  again,  aud  jumping  in 
with  Ned  they  spun  oft'  to  the  stable,  where  Jerry,  the 
coachman,  promised  to  see  that  Tot  should  get  his  full 
measure  of  feed  at  noon. 


"  Now,  to  work,"  said  Joe,  "  and  after  lunch  we'll  start 
oil'  for  the  lake.  Just  you  wait  till  you've  heard  my  scheme, 
and  you'll  think  it  a  dandy;  see  if  you  don't." 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?"  said  Ned.  "  There's  no  use  keeping  it 
to  yourself  forever." 

"Come  up  in  the  workshop,  for  we've  got  to  spend  the 
rest  of  the  moruing  there,  and  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it." 

The  boys  on  leaving  the  stable  turned  down  towards 
the  farm  barns,  where  in  one  of  the  vacant  rooms  Mr. 
Thompson  had  fitted  up  a  neat  little  carpenter  shop  for  his 
son.  In  one  corner  was  a  first-class  lathe  for  all  kinds  of 
wood-turning,  and  across  the  room  was  a  long  carpenter's 
bench  with  all  the  appliances  complete,  while  over  in  one 
of  the  other  corners  was  what  remained  of  Joe's  first  scroll- 
saw,  rather  dilapidated  and  cheap-looking  now,  but  still  of 
some  service.  Joe  would  not  have  parted  with  it  even  if 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


he  did  not  use  it,  for  with  it  be  developed  his  first  loye  for 
carpentry,  which  had  finally  led  to  the  present  shop. 

"  Now  look  here,"  said  Joe  ;  "  my  scheme  is  the  simplest  in 
tin-  world;  it's  a  plan  to  catch  those  bass  iu  Laurel  Lake 
which  we  can't  get  any  way  we've  tried  so  far.  It  isn't 
the  bait.  Jingo !  we've  tried  everything,  from  grasshoppers, 
dobsoiis,  and  live  bait  down  to  worms;  they  just  look  at  it, 
and  then  look  up  at  the  boat  over  their  heads,  and  scoot. 
liVnieinber  that  monster  we  saw  off  Sea  Lion  last  Tuesday  ? 
AVbat  would  you  give  to  get  him,  eh?" 

••What  would  I  give?  Why,  Joe,  he's  the  biggest  bass 
in  that  lake.  I'd  give — now,  let  me  see."  said  Ned,  scratch- 
ing his  head  as  he  turned  it  from  one  side  to  the  other; 
'•  I'd  be  willing  to  throw  my  new  rod  in  the  lake  and  stop 
li>liing  the  rest  of  the  summer." 

"So  would  I,"  said  Joe.  "But  look  here,  just  get  that 
cross-cut  saw  and  help  me  get  this  plank  so  that  we  can  get 
at  it,  and  I'll  explain  as  we  go  along."  Joe  measured  off 
on  the  board  ten  divisions  of  eight  inches  each,  and  started 
sawing  across  the  first  line.  "Now,  you  see,"  said  he, 
"what  I  propose  is  that  we  take  each  of  these  ten  pieces, 
cut  up  that  old  line  of  mine  into  lengths  of  about  eight  or 
nine  feet,  and  then — see?  Isn't  that  easy?  The  beauty 
of  it  is  that  we  have  a  chance  iu  ten  different  places;  just 
string  them  along  the  shore,  leave  them,  and  while,  we  wait 
jump  in  and  play  fish  ourselves  ott'  Baldwin's  Cliff;  we  can 
easily  wat.cli  the  floats  from  there.  Catcli  ?'' 

Ned  had  been  listening  eagerly,  and  approved  the  scheme 
heartily,  only  wondering  why  it  had  not  occurred  to  them 
before.  When  Joe  finished,  Ned  raised  the  question  of  bait, 
hut  was  put  off  by  Joe's  saying  there  would  be  time  enough 
to  get  all  the  grasshoppers  and  crickets  they  wanted,  and 
maybe  a  few  frogs,  so  they  went  to  work,  coats  off,  and 
sleeves  rolled  up  in  a  businesslike  manner.  In  the  course 
of  an  hour  or  more  they  bad  that  part  of  the  w  ork  all  done, 
and  a  short  time  afterwards  they  started  up  to  the  stable 
with  their  arms  full  of  their  invention,  and  deposited  it 
eiimplete  in  the  box  under  the  seat  of  Ned's  huckhna.nl. 

"  Now  for  bait,"  said  Joe  ;  "  you  take  this  box  and  keep 
along  by  that  old  stone  wall  and  look  sharp  for  crickets. 
There  are  lots  of  old  boards  and  stones  there;  turn  them 
all  over  and  you'll  get  enough.  I'll  stick  to  this  field  and 
get  the  'hoppers.'' 

They  separated,  and  were  soon  hard  at  work,  both  using 
their  hands  to  catch  the  wily  bait;  Ned  said  he  never  had 
any  luck  with  'hoppers  or  crickets  that  were  caught  with  a, 
buttertly  net.  After  an  hour  they  decided  they  had  enough, 
and  turned  clown  toward  a  small  stream  which  ran  through 
the  meadow,  and  got  a  dozen  or  more  frogs,  and  so  com- 
plete in  all  the  details  of  their  plan  they  came  into  the 
house  and  sat  down  to  lunch.  It  seemed  to  both  the  boys 
entirely  too  long,  and  Joe  fidgeted  so  much  that  his  father 
noticed  it,  and  tried  to  find  out  what  the  cause  was. 

"No,  nothing's  the  matter,  only  we  want  to  hurry  up  and 
get  to  the  lake.  We've  got  a  scheme,  and  later  we're  going 
to  have  a  swim," 

"What  is  it,  Joe?"  said  Mr.  Thompson.  "What's  up? 
You're  not  going  to  catch  that  Jonah's  whale  you  told  me 
about  with  dynamitc>  or  anything  like  that,  are  you?  You 
had  better  try  putting  sail  on  his  tail,"  he  added, .jokingly, 
and  he  quietly  passed  the  salt-cellar  to  Joe.  "Come,  fill 
your  pockets  ;  you'll  need  it." 

Now  it  might  as  well  he  said  right  here  that  Mr.  Thomp- 
son owned  many  a  fine  split  bamboo  rod,  and  two  or  three 
beautiful  guns,  and  that  there  were  pictures  of  partridges 
and  woodcock  iu  his  den.  Two  fishing  pictures  in  particu- 
lar, which  had  always  been  Joe's  delight,  hung  near  the 
door,  one  of  a  great  trout  rolling  up  to  take  a  fly  as  it 
ski  mined  the  surface  of  the  water,  while  the  other,  its  mate. 
was  of  a  line  small-mouthed  bass  clearing  the  water,  and 
shaking  him-ell'  in  i  he  air  iu  his  efforts  to  hrea"k  away  from 
the  hook  which  had  tempted  him.  In  fact,  Mr.  Thompson 
was  a  sportsman  of  the  truest  kind.  Little  did  Ned  and 
Joe  know  how  near  he  came  to  adding  set  lines  to  dynamite 
when  talking  seriously  before  be  mentioned  the  salt.  If 
he  had  been  told  "  the  scheme  "  this  story  would  never  have 
been  written,  but  the  boys  went  off  unaware  of  what  Mr. 
Thompson's  views  were  on  the  method  they  had  devised 


to  try  the  bass  in  Laurel  Lake.  They  took  their  rods  and 
bait, of  course,  hut  kept  mum  about  what  wasrattling  under 
the  seat  as  Jerry  drove  Tot  up  to  the  door. 

A  mile  and  a  half  and  they  turned  in  at  old  Farmer 
Sayre's.  hitched  and  blanketed  the  pony,  and  with  their 
variety  of  equipment  went  down  to  the  shore  of  the  lake, 
where  their  boat  was  made  fast. 

"Go  ahead,  Ned,  you  row,"  said  Joe;  "  we'll  get  there 
quicker,  and  I'm  most  crazy  to  see  how  she  works  ;  aren't 
yon  ?" 

"You  bet,"  replied  Ned.  "Shove  off.  Let  fall,"  he 
added,  giving  himself  part  of  the  orders  he  had  picked  up 
hut  a  week  before,  while  on  a  visit  to  a  friend  on  the  Sound. 
"  Give  way  ;  how 's  that  for  nautical,  Joe  ?" 

"Never  mind  nautical,"  said  Joe;  "git  there  is  what  we 
want.  One,  two — now,  now  !"  He  grunted  out  each  word  to 
help  Ned,  who  w  as  pulling  with  all  his  might,  and  the  light 
little  boat  jumped  ahead  at  each  stroke. 

Around  the  point,  which  formed  the  hay  in  which  the 
boat  was  kept,  on  the  shore,  but  partly  hidden  by  the  trees, 
was  an  old,  rather  dilapidated  ice-house;  it  was  called  that 
by  courtesy,  for  it  was  no  house  at  all ;  it  had  no  roof — it 
never  had  one — but  it  was  used  once  to  store  ice  in,  and 
the  fishing-ground  along  the  shore  in  front  of  it  had  always 
been  designated  by  the  boys  as  "off  the  ice-house."  Ned 
and  Joe  claimed  to  themselves  that  they  alone  knew  of  the 
existence  of  a  certain  ledge  which  ran  for  some  distance 
parallel  to  the  shore,  but  much  farther  out  than  the  average 
fisherman  would  think  of  dropping  anchor. 

As  they  approached  the  place,  in  order  to  get  the  right 
spot  to  leave  the  first  float,  which  had  a  choice  fat  frog 
wriggling  at  the  end  of  the  line,  Ned  slowed  down  and  be- 
gan to  row  quietly.  He  got  a  certain  stump  on  a  point  of 
land  iu  line  with  the  roof  of  a  barn  way  hack  on  the  hill- 
side, and  was  watching  for  the  cross  line,  a  clump  of  bright 
willows  with  a  scraggly  dead  tree  some  distance  behind 
them. 

"Whoa,  slowly,"  said  Joe,  who  was  also  watching. 
"There  !  hold  her,  and  I'll  let  him  go.  There,  my  tine  friend,'' 
he  added,  addressing  the  frog;  "  good-by  to  you  and  good 
luck  to  UN.  Now.  a  stroke  or  two  :  there,  let  her  slide  !  And 
to  you, Mr.  Hoppergrass,good-bj ,  and  good-luck.'1  He  gently 
dropped  the  line  over  the  side,  and,  so  with  the  others,  all 
had  a  farewell  given  them  as  they  were  dropped  over  at 
intervals.  Then  the  hoys  rowed  on  towards  Baldwin's 
Cliff,  keeping  their  eyes  on  the  small  floats  as  they  left 
them  bobbing  under  and  over  the  tiny  waves. 

About  four  o'clock  Ned  and  Joe  had  had  enough  swim- 
ming and  diving,  and  fetching  white  stones  from  the  bot- 
tom ;  they  had  been  in,  as  was  usually  the  case,  too  long, 
yet  both  wanted  to  stay  in  longer.  Nothing  had  happened, 
as  far  as  they  could  see,  to  their  floats,  and  they  felt  keenly 
disappointed.  They  had  hardly  noticed  that  the  clouds 
were  gathering  over  the  hills,  and  that  the  wind  had  risen 
so  that  little  white  caps  had  sprung  up,  and  were  dancing 
in  towards  shore.  But  a  low  mutter  of  thunder  startled 
them,  and  they  saw  now  no  way  but  to  adopt  a  means  for 
shelter  which  they  had  followed  before  to  keep  dry. 

"Hurry  up,  Ned,"  said  Joe;  "make  for  the  boat;  that 
storm's  a  dandy,  and  coming  like  thunder,  too.  It's  pouring 
at  the  end  of  the  lake  already." 

The  boys  put  for  the  boat  as  hard  as  they  could,  and  a 
moment  later  had  her  beached  and  rolled  over,  and  their 
clothes  snugly  tucked  away  under  perfect  shelter. 

"Here  she  is!"  they  both  cried  at  the  same  moment,  as 
the  rain  started  to  come  down  in  large  noisy  drops,  and  the 
wind  caught  the  spray  from  the  water  aud  whirled  it  along 
in  sudden  gusts. 

"Let  her  rain,'' said  Joe;  "but  doesn't  that  sting  your 
back.it  does  mine;  and  that  wind's  cold,  too.  I'm  going 
to  swim  out  a  way,  the  water's  warmer  than  here." 

So  Joe  plunged  in  and  swam  out  from  the  shore. 

Ned  watched  him  as  he  paddled  around  in  the  deep  wa- 
ter; he  did  not  exactly  like  the  idea.  The  whole  scene, 
with  the  dark  lowering  clouds,  broken  now  aud  then  by 
the  jagged  streaks  of  lightning,  each  one  followed  by  a 
sharp  and  startling  smash  and  roar,  made  him  shiver,  and 
the  large  drops  and  an  occasional  hailstone  made  him  skin. 


762 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


around  on  the  beach.  The  situation  was  exciting,  though, 
anil  Joe,  now  quite  a  way  out,  felt  the  tingles  creep  through 
him.  Finally,  as  Ned  was  still  watching  Joe,  he  saw  him 
start  forward  with  the  overhand  Indian  stroke,  making 
straight  for  the  middle  of  the  lake.  He  put  his  hands  to 
his  month  and  shouted  : 

"  Say,  Joe !  come  back  here !   Don't  be  a  fool ;  come  back !" 

Joe  paid  no  attention  ;  he  did  not  hear  the  call,  which 
was  carried  back  into  the  woods  by  the  gusts  of  wind;  he 
kept  on  straight  ahead,  swimming  as  though  in  a  race. 

Ned  turned  and  looked  at  the  boat  and  then  at  Joe.  "I 
know  what's  the  matter,"  he  said,  aloud  ;  "  he's  seen  one  of 
the  floats  way  out  there,  and  he's  after  it;  but  he  can't 
stand  it,  I  know  he  can't ;  he'll  be  all  tired  out  when  he 
gets  there,  and  then  when  he  has  to  tread  water  and  play 
that  fish — '  Here  he  stopped,  and  gave  a  long  low  whistle. 
"By  jingo!  he  must  be  a  monster!  why,  he's  towed  that 
float  nearly  a  hundred  yards  dead  against  this  sea.  No, 
sir !  Joe  can't  do  it,  and  here  goes  for  wet  clothes  to  get 
home  in." 

Ned  had  hardly  finished  speaking,  and  inwardly  calling 
Joe  some  hard  names  for  his  foolishness,  when  he  heard  a 
cry  from  the  water: 

"  Ned,  oh,  Ned !  he's  a  whale !  Hurry  with  the  boat ;  I'm 
tuckered !  Hurry !" 

The  last  call  to  hurry  was  rather  faint,  and  sounded  al- 
most as  bad  to  Ned  as  if  it  had  been  "help  "  that  Joe  had 
cried  ;  it  made  his  heart  leap  in  his  throat. 

"  Let  go  the  line,"  Ned  cried  back,  "  and  keep  your  head, 
and  I'll  be  there  in  a  moment." 

Again  the  words  were  lost  in  the  wind, and  Joe  continued 
his  struggle.  In  his  excitement  he  felt  that  letting  go  that 
line  would  be  like  cutting  it,  and  lie  hung  on,  now  thrash- 
ing and  splashing  as  the  fish  started  to  twine  the  line 
around  his  legs,  and  the  sharp  points  of  his  fins  pricked 
him.  It  was  a  case  of  the  fish  playing  Joe,  a  pretty  even 
struggle,  but  Joe  was  game  and  bound  to  have  him.  He 
did  not  appreciate  that  his  strokes  and  kicks  to  keep  his 
head  up  over  the  choppy  surface  of  the  lake  were  leaving 
him  weaker  and  weaker. 

As  Joe  turned  his  head  a  moment  towards  shore  lie  saw 
Ned  pulling  towards  him  with  all  his  strength;  a  moment 
later  a  wave  struck  him  full  in  the  face  and  caught  him 
with  his  mouth  open;  he  gulped  and  choked,  and  again 
started  thrashing  and  struggling  to  gain  liis  breath, but  all 
he  could  do  was  to  give  a  feeble  cry  of  "  help,"  then  he  sank 
out  of  sight,  holding  fast  to  the  line. 

Ned  heard  the  faint  cry,  and  turned  as  he  rowed  against 
the  storm,  which  was  now  luckily  falling  as  quickly  as  it 
had  come  up.  The  only  thing  he  saw  was  I  he  small  piece 
of  board  tip  np  on  its  side  and  disappear.  "Thank  good- 
ness he  had  hold  of  that  line!"  murmured  Ned.  "Now 
brace  yourself,"  he  added,  aloud,  "and  keep  cool, keep  cool, 
keep  cool." 

It  seemed  to  Ned  that  he  said  those  words  a  thousand 
times;  lie,  was  right  on  the  spot,  and  was  standing  and 
waiting.  The  strain  was  something  awful.  He  knew  a 
good  deal  about  swimming  and  about  its  dangers,  and 
knew  that  a  person  had  to  come  np  twice,  and  that  the 
third  time  down  was  down  for  good.  He  thought  that  Joe 
had  not  called  before,  yet  he  could  not  tell ;  but  there  was 
only  one  thing  to  do — wait,  and,  as  he  had  said,  "keep 
cool." 

Ages  and  ages  seemed  to  pass  as  Ned,  shivering  and  pale, 
strained  Ins  eyes  to  see  the  block  of  wood  appear  again. 
Suddenly  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  bit  of  wood  s]o\\]y 
rising  close  by  the  side  of  the  boat,  and  below  it,  as  it  came 
up  zigzagging  to  the  surface,  lie  saw  the  white  body  follow- 
ing. It  was  a  lucky  tiling  that  a  stout  trolling-liue  had 
been  used  in  the  scheme,  for  Xed  reached  far  over  the  gun- 
wale and  firmly  seized  the  line,  then  gently  and  steadily 
pulled  the  heavy  weight  to  the  surface.  There  were  no 
signs  of  life  in  Joe's  limp  body;  his  cramped  hand  held  tin- 
line  twisted  about  his  fingers,  his  eyes  were  closed,  and  his 
mouth  half  open. 

Ned  grasped  the -wrist  which  appeared  first,  and  drew 
Joe  along  towards  the  bow  of  the  boat,  so  that  there  would 
be  uo  chance  of  capsizing.  He  lay  out  flat  over  the  bow 


and  held  Joe  under  the  arms,  keeping  his  head  well  out  of 
water,  and  waited.  There  was  nothing  to  be  done  now  but 
iniit;  no  one  was  in  sight,  and  shouting  would  have  done 
no  good,  so  he  held  on  in  his  cramped  position  and  watched 
the  boat  get  a  little  headway  in  drifting  towards  shore, 
driven  by  the  light  wind.  The  sun  had  come  out  again, 
and  blue  patches  of  sky  were  appearing  through  the  fast- 
flying  clouds. 

As  the  boat  reached  the  shallow  water,  Ned  leaped  out 
up  to  his  waist,  still  clinging  to  Joe's  wrist;  a  moment 
more  and  he  had  him  safe  on  shore,  and,  strange  to  say, 
there,  too,  was  the  cause  of  the  trouble,  the  huge  bass,  still 
fast  to  the  hook,  which  was  far  out  of  eight  down  his  throat. 
The  fight  had  been  too  much  for  him,  and  as  Ned  half  car- 
ried Joe  np  the  beach  to  a  mossy  bank,  he  also  hauled  the 
monster  bass,  that  showed  not  a  quiver  of  the  gills  or  a 
movement  of  fin  or  tail.  Ned  placed  Joe  softly  down,  with 
his  feet  up  on  the  bank  and  his  head,  face  downward,  over 
a  soft  rotten  log,  and  then  began  the  work  which  meant 
life  or  death.  He  had  kept  cool  up  to  this  time  in  a  wonder- 
ful way,  but  now  he  began  to  get  excited.  He  rolled  Joe 
over  and  over,  and  kneaded  him  with  his  hands.  Occasion- 
ally he  stopped  to  listen  to  Joe's  heart  and  feel  for  the 
chance  of  a  single  breath.  It  was  a  strange  sight  but  a 
most  impressive  one — a  young  boy  working  for  the  life  of 
his  friend  with  all  the  fervor  a.nd  love  that  a  close  friend- 
ship could  call  forth.  Finally  Ned's  efforts  began  to  have 
effect ;  there  was  a  slight  movement,  a  slow  turning  of  the 
limp  body,  and  Ned  felt  that  Joe  was  safe,  and  he  uttered  a 
sigh  that  meant  everything. 

Gradually  Joe's  eyes  opened,  and  finally,  after  more  rub- 
bing, he  slowly  sat  up,  and  for  the  first  time  let  go  the  line 
which  he  had  held  stronger  than  a  vise  up  to  this  time. 

"Ned, "he  said,  feebly,  "  where  am  I?  Where  have  I 
been  ?  I  can't  remember  anything.  I  am  awful  cold,"  he 
continued,  and  a  shiver  ran  over  him.  "  I  must  have  swal- 
lowed half  the  lake.  But  I'll  lie  all  right  in  a  moment. 
There!  now  I'm  more  comfortable,"  he  added,  ias  Ned 
propped  him  up  against  an  old  stump.  "Is  that  the  fish? 
Oh!  Now  I  remember  it  all.  He  is  a  whale;  I  told  you 
so;  and  I  got  him  too!" 

The  excitement  of  seeing  the  fish  changed  his  thoughts 
from  himself,  and  the  blood  began  to  flow  through  his 
veins.  The  wind  had  died  out,  and  the  sun  was  warm  and 
cheering.  The  spirits  of  the  boys  rose,  and  they  began  to 
forget  a  little  of  their  narrow  escape. 

"  Joe,"  said  Ned.  •'  is  my  hair  gray  ?  It  ought  to  be  ;  you 
scared  me  half  to  death." 

"I'm  sorry, Ned," replied  Joe,  "but  I  didn't  do  it  on  pur- 
pose; but  I'm  feeling  rather  queer.  Let's  get  home." 

They  put  on  their  clothes,  wet  as  they  were,  and  Joe 
staggered  to  the  boat  and  fell  into  the  stern  seat  and  lifted 
the  hass  into  his  lap,  where  he  could  look  at  him  and  feel 
him. 

As  Ned,  tired  out  and  pale,  took  the  oars  and  rowed  slow- 
ly over  the  now  glassy  water  towards  the  bay,  Joe  listless- 
ly took  a  small  pair  of  scales  from  his  pocket  and  weighed 
the  fish,  and  when  he  found  that  he  weighed  over  sis 
pounds, just  a  little,  he  gave  a  long  sigh. 

"  That's  the  biggest  bass  on  record  for  this  lake,  don't 
you  think  so  ?" 

Ned  did  not  reply ;  he  was  too  tired  to  even  speak. 

The  other  floats  had  been  washed  ashore  or  had  disap- 
peared somewhere ;  the  boys  did  not  look  for  them,  or  even 
think  of  them. 

Tot  seemed  to  know  that  he  was  pulling  two  very  tired 
boys,  and  went  along  gently,  and  turned  in  of  his  own  ac- 
cord at  the  gate  of  the  Thompsons'  place. 

Joe  tottered  as  he  got  out  of  the  bnckboard,and  held  the 
bass  up  by  the  gills,  to  the  astonishment  of  his  father  and 
mother,  who  were  at  the  door  to  meet  them.  They  had 
seen  (lie  storm  come  np,  and  had  anxiously  awaited  the 
boys'  return.  As  he  stepped  forward,  the  set  line  and 
block  fell  on  the  steps. 

The  long  story  was  being  told  in  a  slow  and  labored  way 
by  Joe  after  Ned  had  gone,  when  it  was  interrupted  by  Mr. 
Thompson,  who  saw  that  his  sou  was  growing  pale  and 
faint. 


763 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"  That  '11  <lo  for  the  present,"  he  said.     "  Now  come  with 


'So  you  caught  him  on  a  set  line,  did  you?"  said  Mr. 


me,  old  man,"  and  putting  his  arm  around  Joe's  waist,. he      Thompson,  as  he  sat  by  the  bed-side,  holding  Joe's  hand, 
gently  helped    him    into  the   house   and   up  to  his  own      "Now  listen  to  a  word  of  advice.     Don't  ever  use  set  lines 


room,  where  he  was  undressed  and  carefully  tucked  into 
bed. 


again.     Fish  with  your  rod  and  reel  if  you  want  to  be  call- 
ed a  true  sportsman." 


BOYS    AND     GIRLS     AS     RULERS     OF    MEN. 
ALFONSO    XIII.,  KING    OF    SPAIN. 


BY     MRS.    SERRANO. 


THERE  have  been  a  great  many  Kings,  since  Kings  first 
began  to  rule ;  but  perhaps  the  little  boy  who  to-day 
wears  the  Spanish  crown  is  the  only  one  among  them  all 
who  was  boru  a  King;  his  father,  Alfonso  XII.,  having  died 
more  than  five  mouths  before  his  birth,  the  throne  remain- 
ing vacant  during  that  time. 

For  the  young  people  of  America  Alfonso  XIII.  possesses 
an  interest  apart  from  and  superior  to  that  which  attaches 
to  his  exalted  position  as  the  ruler  of  a  great  nation,  in  be- 
ing a  descendant  of  the  noble-minded  and  great-hearted 
Queen,  the  illustrious  Isabella,  who,  by  her  encouragement 
and  assistance,  enabled  Columbus  to  undertake  the  voyage 
across  unknown  seas  which  resulted  in  the  discovery  of  a 
new  world. 

He  is  descended  also  from  Henry  of  Navarre — the  fa- 
mous Henry  of  Navarre  whose  white  plume  so  often  led 
his  soldiers  on  to  victory — through  Philip,  Duke  of  An.jou, 
Henry's  great-grandson,  who  succeeded  to  the  Spanish 
crown,  under  the  title  of  Philip  V.,  on  the  death  of  his  un- 
cle Charles  II.  of  Spain.  Philip  was  the  first  of  the  Bour- 
bon family  who  reigned  in  Spain,  as  Henry  of  Navarre  was 
the  first  of  that  family  who  reigned  in  France. 

To  the  Spanish  people,  who  sincerely  mourned  the  death 
of  Alfonso  XII..  who  had  endeared  himself  to  them  by  his 
frank  and  amiable  disposition  and  by  his  many  good  quali- 
ties, the  birth  of  the  young  King,  which  took  place  in  the 
royal  palace  in  Madrid  on  the  17th  of  May,  1886,  was  a 


THE   KING   OF   SPAIN. 

joyful  event.  It  was  announced  to  all  Spain  by  the  firing 
of  twenty-one  cannon  in  every  city  throughout  the  king- 
dom. On  the  same  day  the  infant  was  proclaimed  King, 
his  mother,  Queeu  Maria  Cristina,  who  had  acted  as  Re- 


gent from  the  time  of  the  late  King's  death,  continued  to 
fill  the  same  office  during  the  young  King's  minority. 

A  few  weeks  afterward,  Queen  Maria  Cristiua  went 
with  the  royal  infant,  in  accordance  with  the  Spanish  cus- 
tom, to  the  church  of  Atocha.  She  drove  to  the  church  in 
a  magnificent  state  carriage  drawn  by  six  horses  covered 
with  plumes  and  glitteriug  with  gold,  and  followed  by 
many  other  splendid  carriages.  The  Queeu  was  dressed  in 
deep  mourning,  and  from  time  to  time  she  held  up  the  lit- 
tle Alfonso,  who  wore  neither  cap  nor  other  head-covering, 
to  the  view  of  the  people,  who  cheered  and  crowded  for- 
ward to  obtain  a  sight  of  the  infant  King,  while  the  band 
played  the  Royal  March. 

The  little  Alfonso  grew  and  thrived,  more  or  less  like 
other  babies,  until  he  was  two  years  old,  when  he  was  taken 
in  state  to  several  of  the  provinces  to  show  him  to  his  peo- 
ple. Then  he  first  experienced  the  uneasiness  to  which 
the  head  that  wears  a  crown  is  said  by  Shakespeare  to  be 
subject,  for  the  incessant  cheering  of  the  people  and  the 
ear-piercing  strains  of  the  martial  music,  wherever  he  was 
taken,  disturbed  him  so  greatly  at  last  that  he  would  cry 
out  in  his  baby  accents,  "  Stop,  stop,  no  more!"  Very  soon, 
however,  he  began  to  grow  accustomed  to  the  honors  paid 
him,  and  when  he  was  taken  out  walking  by  the  Queen, 
whose  greatest  pleasure  it  was,  after  he  had  learned  to 
walk,  to  go  out  walking  unattended  with  her  children,  Al- 
fonso holding  her  by  the  hand  while  his  two  sisters  walked 
iu  front,  he  would  wave  his  hand  to  every  one  who  passed. 
Sometimes  he  would  forget  to  return  a  bow  or  a  wave  of  a 
handkerchief,  and  then  the  Queen  would  say  to  him,  "  Bow, 
Alfonso." 

At  this  time  the  little  King  had  to  take  care  of  him  and 
to  attend  upon  him  a  Spanish  nurse  and  an  English  nurse 
and  tin  Austrian  and  a  Spanish  lady,  besides  his  own  spe- 
cial cook.  The  Spanish  nurse  of  the  royal  children  is  al- 
ways brought  from  one  particular  part  of  Spain,  the  valley 
of  Paz,  in  the  province  of  Santauder,  where  one  of  the  court 
physicians  goes  to  select  the  healthiest  and  most  robust 
among  the  various  candidates  for  the  position.  As  the 
young  King  is  of  a  delicate  constitution,  thought  to  have 
been  inherited  from  his  father,  the  greatest  care  has  been 
lavished  upon  him  ever  since  his  birth,  the  Queeu  herself 
exercising  a  watchful  supervision  over  every  detail  of  his 
daily  life. 

About  four  years  a<;o  Alfonso  had  a  very  serious  illness, 
which  everybody  fejired  would  terminate  fatally,  and  which 
was  probably  due  to  a  cause  that  has  made  many  another 
little  boy  ill.  Being  in  the  apartments  of  his  aunt,  the  In- 
fanta Isabel,  the  elder  sister  of  the  Princess  Eulalia,  whose 
visit  to  us  at  the  time  of  the  opening  of  the  exposition  at 
Chicago  made  so  pleasant  an  impression  upon  everybody, 
the  Infanta  gave  the  little  boy  a  box  of  bonbons  of  a  par- 
ticularly delicious  kind,  which,  seeing  that  he  was  observed 
by  no  one,  he  went  on  eating  until  he  had  finished  the  box. 
During  his  illness  he  would  often  inquire  after  a  little  lame 
girl  to  whom  he  used  to  give  money  iu  his  drives  to  the 
country,  wonder  what.she  was  doing,  and  ask  that  bonbons 
should  be  sent  to  her.  All  Spain  followed  the  course  of  his 
illness  with  profound  anxiety,  and  there  was  no  one  who 
did  not  sympathize  with  the  widowed  mother  in  her  afflic- 
tion, and  rejoice  with  her  when  the  dangerous  symptoms 
passed  away  and  the  sick  boy  began  to  recover. 

In  October,  1892,  Alfonso  had  another  serious  illness,  the 


764 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


result  of  a  cold,  contracted  probably  at  the  celebration  of 
tbe  fourth  centenary  of  the  discovery  of  America  at  Huel  va, 
where  he  presided  at  the  inauguration  of  the  monument 
erected  to  Columbus  on  the  hill  of  La  Rabida.  This  sick- 
ness also  caused  for  a  time  the  greatest  uneasiness. 

Tbe  young  King  begins  the  day  by  saluting  the  national 
flag  from  his  windows  in  the  palace  that  look  out  upon  tbe 
Plaza  de  Armas,  where  the  relieving   of  the  guard  takes 
place  every  morning  at  ten  o'clock,  a  ceremony  which  he 
loves  to  witness.     He  is  passionately  fond  of  everything 
military.    He  takes  a  great  interest  in  the 
soldiers,  in  what   they  eat,  and  in  other 
details  of  their  life,  and  he  often  expresses 
pity  for  the  cold    which  the  sentinels  on 
guard  at    the   palace  must  feel.      In  the 
park  nt  Miramar,  when  the  troops  are  re- 
turning to  their   barracks   after  drill,  he 
may  often  be  seen   delightedly  watching 
the   soldiers   forming   in    line,  and  he  re- 
turns their  salute  with  a  military  salute. 
He  is  very  fond  of  horses,  and  the  bigger 
they  are  the  better  he  likes  them,  as  he 
himself  says.     He  delights   in    military 
music  and  military  evolutions,  and  a  re- 
view of  the  troops   is  oue   of  his  great 
pleasures.    On   his  seventh   birthday  he 
held  a  grand  review  of  the  troops,  riding 
then  for  the  first  time  in  public.     On  that 
occasion  40,000  troops  were  reviewed. 

Since  that  time  his  education  has  been 
directed  less  exclusively  by  women  than 
before.  His  chief  companions  are  bis  tu- 
tor, and  the  General  who  is  the  Captain 
of  the  King's  guard,  with  whom  he  loves 
to  talk  about  military  matters.  He  still 
has  his  little  playmates,  however,  and 
toys  in  abundance.  He  is  fond  of  riding 
and  driving,  and  he  has  a  little  carriage 
of  bis  own,  with  two  small  Moorish  don- 
keys to  draw  it,  which  looks  very  odd 
among  all  the  large  carriages  in  the  royal  stables  in 
Madrid. 

When  the  weather  is  fine  he  spends  almost  the  whole'  of 
the  day  at  the  royal  villa,  called  tbe  Quiuta  del  1'arao. 
situated  a  little  outside  Madrid.  He  is  driven  there  in  a 
carriage  generally  drawn  by  four  mules,  and  is  accompanied 
by  his  royal  escort  wearing  their  splendid  uniforms  and 
long  white  plumes.  He  knows  personally  all  the  soldiers 
who  form  his  escort,  and  tbe  moment  he  sees  the  Captain, 
as  soon  as  the  carriage  leaves  the  palace  gate,  he  speaks  to 
him,  and  continues  chatting  with  him  all  the  way  to  the 
villa,  the  Captain  riding  beside  the  carriage  door.  He  is 
accompanied  by  his  tutor,  his  governess,  and  generally  oue 
other  person. 

In  the  villa  he  is  instructed  in  the  studies  suitable  to  his 
age,  particular  attention  being  paid,  however,  to  military 
science.  The  venerable  priest,  who  is  his  religious  instruct- 
or, teaches  him  also  the  Basque  language,  which  is  alto- 
gether different  from  the  Spanish.  In  the  afternoon  his 
two  sisters,  Isabel  Teresa  Cristiua  Alfousa  Jaciuta,  the  Prin- 
cess of  Asturias,  who  is  now  about  fourteen  years  of  age, 
and  Maria  Teresa  Isabel  Eugenia  Patrocinio  Diega,  the  In- 
fanta of  Spain,  who  is  about  twelve1,  often  go  out  to  take 
afternoon  tea  with  him.  In  the  gardens  of  the  villa  he 
runs  about  and  plays,  after  lessons  are  over,  just  like  other 
boys  of  his  age, playing  as  familiarly  with  the  children  of 
the  gardener  as  if  they  were  the  sous  of  princes.  Whatever 
money  he  happens  to  have  with  him  he  gives  to  the  chil- 
dren of  the  guard  and  to  such  poor  people  as  he  may  chance 
to  meet  on  the  way,  for  he  is  extremely  charitable  and  gen- 
erous, both  by  nature  and  education,  the  Queen,  his  mother, 
instilling  into  his  mind  the  best  and  noblest  sentiments. 

In  appearance  Alfonso  is  interesting  and  attractive.  His 
complexion  is  very  fair,  bis  hair  light  and  curly,  bis  expres- 
sion rather  serious.  His  usual  dress  is  a  sailor  jacket  and 
knickerbockers,  sometimes  sent  from  Vienna  by  his  grand- 
mother, the  Archduchess  Isabel,  sometimes  ordered  from 
London  bv  tbe  Infanta  Isabel,  his  aunt. 


He  is  a  very  intelligent  child,  is  very  vivacious,  and  his 
manners,  notwithstanding  the  high  honors  that  have  been 
paid  to  him  since  his  birth  as  the  chief  of  a  great  nation, 
are  entirely  free  from  arrogance  and  self-conceit.  When  the 
Queen  Regent  is  holding  audience  in  her  apartments  in  tbe 
palace,  which  are  directly  below  his,  he  will  often  go  down 
and  salute  those  who  are  waiting  in  the  antechamber,  giv- 
ing them  his  hand,  even  though  he  may  never  have  seen 
them  before,  this  frankness  of  manner  being  a  trait  of  the 
Spanish  people,  who  are  of  all  people  the  most  democratic. 


ALFONSO    XIII.,   WITH    HIS    MOTHER    AND    SISTERS. 

He  is  very  affectionate  in  his  disposition,  although  he 
has  a  very  firm  will;  and  be  tenderly  loves  his  mother, 
whom  he  also  greatly  respects,  and  his  sisters,  who  are  his 
favorite  playmates. 

He  seems,  as  he  grows  older,  however,  to  be  perfectly 
conscious  of  his  exalted  position.  He  knows  that  he  is  the 
King,  and  in  the  official  receptions  and  ceremonies  at  which 
he  has  to  be  present  he  rarely  becomes  impatient  however 
long  and  solemn  they  may  be.  One  of  these  rare  occasions 
was  during  a  royal  reception  in  the  throne-room.  He  u;is 
sitting  at  tbe  right  liand  of  the  Queen,  and  all  the  high 
functionaries  and  courtiers  were  defiling  past  him,  when 
he  began  to  play  with  the  white  wand  of  office  of  the  Duke 
of  Mediua-Sidouia,  a  great  officer  of  the  palace.  Suddenly 
leaving  his  seat  and  tbe  wand  of  the  Duke  he  ran  down  the 
steps  of  tbe  throne,  and  mounted  astride  one  of  the  bronze 
lions  that  stand  on  either  side  of  it.  The  act  was  so  en- 
tirely childlike  and  spontaneous,  and  was  performed  with 
so  much  grace,  that  it  gave  every  oue  present  a  sensation 
of  real  pleasure.  Even  the  Queen  herself,  while  she  re- 
gretted that  the  young  King  should  have  failed  in  the  eti- 
quette of  tbe  occasion,  could  not  help  smiling. 

On  another  occasion  of  a  similar  kind  he  amused  himself 
greatly  watching  the  Chinese  diplomats,  looking  with  won- 
der and  delight  at  their  silk  dresses,  which  he  would  touch 
from  time  to  time  with  his  little  hands. 

What  most  attracted  his  attention,  however,  was  tbe 
Chinese  ministers  pigtail.  He  waited  a  long  time  in  vain 
for  a  chance  to  look  at  it  from  behind,  for  the  Chinese 
are  a  very  polite  people,  and  the  minister  would  never 
think  of  turning  his  back  upon  the  King.  At  last  it  oc- 
curred to  Alfonso  to  run  and  hide  himself  in  a  corner  of 
the  vast  apartment,  and  wait  for  his  opportunity,  which  he 
did.  After  a  while  the  President  of  the  Cabinet,  seeing 
him  in  the  corner,  went  over  to  him,  and  said,  "What  is 
your  Majesty  doing  here  ?"  "  Let  me  alone,"  answered  the 
boy ;  "  I  am  waiting  for  the  Chinese  minister  to  turn  round, 
so  that  I  may  steal  up  behind  him,  and  look  at  his  pigtail." 


765 


HARPER'S    ROUND   TABLE 


The  boy  King,  like  most  other  boys,  is  very  fond  of  boats, 
ns  may  be  gathered  from  the  following  auecdote.  About 
three  years  ago  the  Queen  gave  a  musical  at  San  Sebas- 
tian, a  sea-port  where  the  royal  family  spend  some  months 
every  summer  for  the  sea-bathing,  at  which  the  Command- 
nut  of  the  Port  was  present.  The  little  Alfonso  was  very 
I"  .1  of  the  Commandant,  and  had  asked  him  for  a  boat, 
which  the  Commandant  had  promised  to  give  the  boy.  He 
had  not  yet  done  so,  however,  and  seeing  him  at  the  con- 
cert, the  young  King  ran  from  one  end  of  the  room  to  the 
other,  when  the  concert  was  at  its  best,  and,  stopping  in 
front  of  him,  said,  "  Commandant,  when  are  yon  going  to 
bring  me  the  boat  .'" 

In  San  Sebastian  the  royal  family  have  a  magnificent 
palace  called  the  palace  of  Ayete,  where,  however,  they  live 
very  simply.  Alfonso  plays  all  day  on  the  beach  with  his 
sisters  and  other  children,  running  about  or  making  holes 
in  the  sand  with  his  little  shovel,  in  view  of  everybody.  lie- 
takes  long  drives  also  among  the  mountains  and  through 
the  valleys.  Sometimes  there  is  a  children's  party  in  the 
gardens  of  the  palace,  when  he  mingles  freely  with  his 
young  guests.  Indeed,  it  is  not  always  necessary  that  lie 
should  know  who  his  playmates  are.  Not  long  since  he 
was  getting  out  of  the  carriage  with  his  mother  at  the  door 
of  the  palace  in  Madrid,  when  two  little  boys  who  were 
passing  stopped  to  look  at  the  boy  King.  "  Mamma,  may  I 
ask  those  two  hoys  to  come  upstairs  to  play  with  me  ?"  Al- 
fonso asked  the  Queen.  "If  you  like,"  was  the  answer. 
He  accordingly  went  over  to  the  two  boys,  and  asked  them 
upstairs  to  play  with  him,  and  all  three  ran  together  up 
the  palace  stairs  to  the  King's  apartments. 

The  young  King's  birthday  is  always  observed  as  a  fes- 
tival in  the  palace,  and  on  his  Saint's  day,  also,  which  is  the 
23d  of  January,  there  is  always  a  grand  reception.  On  this 
day  it  is  the  custom  to  confer  decorations  on  such  public 
functionaries  as  have  merited  them. 

As  a  descendant  of  Queen  Isabella  there  is  something  ap- 
propriate in  Alfonso  having  sent  an  exhibit — a  small  brass 
cannon — to  the  great  Fair  in  Chicago,  at  which  he  was  the 
youngest  exhibitor. 

It  is  fortunate  for  the  young  King  and  for  the  country 
over  which  he  is  to  rule  that  the  important  work  of  form- 
ing his  character  and  educating  his  heart  has  fallen  to 
a  womau  so  admirably  qualilied  for  the  task  as  the  Queen 
.Regent. 

Born  on  the  21st  of  July,  1858,  Maria  Cristina  is  now  in 
the  early  prime  of  life.  Her  appearance  is  distinguished  and 
majestic;  her  manners  are  simple  and  amiable.  She  has 
a  sound  understanding  and  a  cultivated  mind,  well  stored 
with  varied  information.  She  is  of  a  serious  disposition, 
and  is  religious  without  bigotry,  and  good  without  alleeta- 
tion.  During  the  lifetime  of  King  Alfonso,  her  husband, 
she  took  no  part  whatever  in  politics,  so  that  when  she  was 
called  upon  to  assume  the  important  responsibilities  of  the 
regency  she  was  able  to  place  herself  above  political  par- 
tie*,  and  to  be  the  Queen  of  the  nation.  She  has  had  the 
good  fortune,  in  the  midst  of  her  personal  grief — for  the 
death  of  her  husband,  whom  she  loved  devotedly,  was  a  ter- 
rilile  blow  to  her — to  win  the  good-will  of  the  greater  part 
lift  he  Spanish  people,  and  the  respect  of  all  by  the  wisdom 
and  discretion  with  which,  through  her  ministers  and  ac- 
cording to  the  constitution,  she  has  governed  the  country. 
She  is  exceedingly  charitable,  and  delights  especial  ly  in  re- 
lieving the  wants  of  children  ;  she  gives  large  sums  to  chil- 
dren's aid  societies.  She  educates  at  her  own  expense  the 
children  of  public  functionaries  who  have  been  left  in  pov- 
erty ;  she  is  constantly  taking  upon  herself  the  care  of  or- 
phaned children,  and  no  mother  ever  asks  her  help  in  vain. 


"TAIL-PIECE."  This  title  Hogarth,  the  celebrated  Eng- 
lish painter,  gave  to  his  last  work.  It  is  said  that  the  idea 
for  it  was  first  started  when,  in  the  company  of  his  friends, 
they  sat  around  the  table  at  his  home.  His  guests  had  con- 
sumed all  of  the  eatables  and  et  vii'lcra,  and  nothing  re- 
mained Imt  the  empty  plates  and  glasses.  Hogarth,  glan- 
cing over  the  table,  sadly  remarked,  "  My  next  undertaking 


shall  be  the  end  of  all  things."  "If  that  is  the  ease,"  re- 
plied one  of  his  friends,  "your  business  will  be  finished, 
for  there  will  be  an  end  of  the  painter."  "There  will  be," 
answered  Hogarth,  sighing  heavily. 

The  next  day  he  started  the  picture,  and  he  pushed  ahead 
rapidly,  seemingly  in  fear  of  being  unable  to  complete  it. 
(Grouped  in  an  ingenious  manner,  he  painted  the  following 
list  to  represent  the  end  of  all  things :  a  broken  bottle ;  the 
lint-end  of  an  old  musket;  an  old  broom  worn  to  the  stump; 
abow  unstrung;  a  crown  tumbled  to  pieces;  towers  in  ruins; 
a  cracked  bell;  the  sign-post  of  an  inn,  called  the  "  World's 
End,"  falling  down;  the  moon  in  her  wane;  a  gibbet  fall- 
ing, the  body  gone,  and  the  chains  which  held  it  dropping 
down;  the  map  of  the  globe  burning;  Phoebus  and  his  horses 
lying  dead  in  the  clouds;  a  vessel  wrecked;  Time  with  his 
hour-glass  and  scythe  broken  ;  a  tobacco-pipe  with  the  last 
whift'  of  smoke  going  out;  a  play-hook  opened,  with  the 
e.rt'iint  OIIIHCK  stamped  in  the  corner ;  a  statute  of  bankruptcy 
taken  out  against  nature;  and  an  empty  purse. 

Hogarth  reviewed  this  work  with  a  sad  and  troubled 
countenance.  Alas!  something  lacks.  Nothing  is  wanted 
but  this,  and  taking  up  his  palette,  he  broke  it.  and  the 
brushes,  and  then  with  his  pencil  sketched  the  remains. 
"Finis, 'tis  done!"  he  cried.  It  is  said  that  he  never  took 
up  the  palette  again,  and  a  month  later  died. 


M' 


PEISCILLA. 

ILES  STANDISH  was  a  fellow 

Who  understood  quite  well,  oh, 
In  fighting  with  the  redskins  how  to  plan,  plan,  plan. 
But  I  think  him  very  silly 
When   he  wished  to  woo  1'riscilla 
To  send  another  man,  man,  man. 

For  she  said  unto  this  other, 
Whom  she  loved  more  than  a  brother, 
"Why   don't   you    speak,  John    Alden,  for   yourself,  self, 

self?" 

So  of  course  John  Alden  tarried, 
And  the  fair  Priscilla   married, 

And  they  laid  poor  Captain  Standish  on  the  shelf,  shelf, 
shelf. 


CORPORAL    FRED. 

A  Story  of  the  Riots. 

BY     CAPTAIN     CHARLES     KING,     U.S.A. 


CH  A  PTER     I  I. 

%  17" HEN  morning  came,  old  Wallace's  face  had  grown  a 
TT  year  older.  Up  to  midnight  he  had  hoped  that  bet- 
ter counsels  might  prevail,  and  that  the  meetings  called  by 
the  leaders  of  kindred  associations,  such  as  the  Trainmen's 
Union,  would  result  in  refusal  to  sustain  the  striking 
switchmen;  but  when  midnight  came, and  no  Jim,  things 
looked  ominous.  A  sturdy,  honest,  hard-working  fellow- 
was  Jim,  devoted  to  his  mother  and  sisters,  and  proud  of 
the  little  home  built  and  paid  for  by  their  united  efforts. 
Content,  happy,  and  hopeful,  too.  he  seemed  to  be  for  sev- 
eral years  ;  but  of  late  he  had  spent  much  time  attending 
the  meetings  at  Harmouie  Hall  and  listening  lo  tin-  ad- 
dresses of  certain  semi-citizens,  whose  names  and  accent 
alike  declared  their  foreign  descent,  and  whose  mission  \\  as 
the  preaching  of  a  gospel  of  discord.  Their  griev  ance  «  as 
not  that  their  hearers  were  hungry  or  in  rugs,  down-trod- 
den or  oppressed,  but  that  the  higher  officials  of  the  road 
owned  handsome  homes  and  cijiiipages,  and  lived  in  a  style 
and  luxury  beyond  the  means  of  the  honest  toilers  in  the 
lower  ranks.  Jim  used  to  come  home  with  a  smile  of  cou- 


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HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


tent  as  lie  looked  upon  tlie  happy  healthful  faces  of  his 
mother  and  sisters,  but  for  months  past  his  talk  had  been 
of  the  way  the  Williams  people  lived,  how  they  rode  in  their 
parlor  car  and  went  to  the  sea-shore  every  summer  and  to 
the  theatre  or  opera  every  night,  drove  to  the  Park  in  car- 
riages, and  hobnobbed  with  the .swells  in  town.  "  Why,  I 
knew  Joe  Williams  when  he  was  yard-master  and  no  bigger 
a  man  on  the  road  than  I  am  to-day,"  said  Jim,  ''and  now 
look  at  him."  His  mother  laughingly  bade  him  take  com- 
fort, then,  from  the  contemplation  of  Williams's  success. 
If  he  could  rise  to  sueli  affluence,  why  shouldn't  Jim  '.  Hi- 
sides,  Mr.  Williams  had  married  a  wealthy  woman.  "Yes, 
the  daughter  of  another  bloated  bondholder,1'  said  Jim.  A 
year  or  two  before  they  regarded  it,  one  and  all  of  them,  as 
no  bad  thing  that  there  were  men  eager  to  buy  the  bonds 
and  meet  the  expense  of  extending  the  road  ;  but  since  the 
advent  of  Messrs.  Steinman  and  Frenzel,  the  orators  of  the 
.Socialist  propaganda,  Jim  had  begun  to  develop  a  feeling 
of  antipathy  towards  all  persons  vaguely  grouped  in  the 
"capitalistic  class." 

He  had  long  since  joined  the  Brotherhood  of  Train- 
men, having  confidence  in  its  benevolent  and  protec- 
tive features.  There  was  no  actual  coercion,  yet  all 
seemed  to  find  it  to  I  heir  best  interest  to  belong  to  the 
union,  even  though  they  merely  paid  the  small  dues  and 
rarely  attended  its  mcci  ings.  These  latter  were  usually 
conducted  by  a  class  of  men  prevalent  in  all  circles  of  so- 
ciety, fellows  ofsome  gift  for  speech-making  or  debate.  The 
quiet,  thoughtful,  and  conservative  randy  spoke,  and  more 
frequently  differed  than  agreed  with  the  speakers,  but  all 
tb  rough  the  year  the  nice  lings  hail  become  more  t  nil  HI  lent 
and  excited,aud  little  by  little  men  who  had  been  content 
and  willing  wage-workers  became  infected  with  the  theo- 
rjea  ^o  glibly  expounded  by  the  speakers.  They  were  the 
bone  and  sinew  of  the  great  corporation;  why  should  not 
they  be  rolling  in  wealth  they  won  rather  than  seeing  u 
lavished  on  the  favored  few,  their  employers  ?  The  only 
way  for  working-men  to  get  their  fair  percentage  of  the 
profits,  said  these  leaders,  was  to  strike  and  stick  together, 
for  the  men  of  one  union  to  "back"  those  of  another,  and 
then  success  was  sure.  Called  from  his  home  to  a  meeting 
of  the  trainmen,  Jim  Wallace  was  one  of  the  five  hundred 
of  his  brethren  to  decide  whether  or  no  they  too  should 
strike  in  support  of  their  fellows,  the  switchmen,  demand- 
ing not.  only  tin-  restoration  of  the  discharged  freight- 
handlers,  but  now  also  that  of  Stoltz.  Old  Wallace  had 
firmly  told  him  No;  they  had  no  case.  But  by  midnight 
the  trainmen  bad  said  Yes. 

An  hour  after  midnight,  anxious  and  unable  to  sleep,  tin- 
father  had  stolen  quietly  up  into  the  boys'  room.  Jim's  bed 
was  unoccupied  ;  but  over  on  the  other  side  lay  Corporal 
Fred,  his  duties  early  completed,  sleeping  placidly  and 
well.  With  two  exceptions,  all  the  companies  of  his  regi- 
ment were  made  up  of  men  who  lived  in  the  heart  of  the 
city.  The  two  junior  companies."  L"  and  "  M,"  hail  been 
raised  in  the  western  suburb,  and  as  many  as  a  dozen 
\  omig  fellows  living  almost  as  far  west  as  the  great  freight- 
yards  were  members  of  these.'  According  to  the  system 
adopted  in  some-  of  the  Eastern  States,  each  company  was 
divided  into  squads,  so  that  in  the  event  of  sudden  need 
for  their  services  the  summons  could  be  quickly  made. 
Every  man's  residence  and  place  of  work  or  business  were 
duly  recorded.  Each  Lieutenant  had  two  sergeants  to  aid 
him,  each  sergeant,  two  corporals;  and  immediately  on 
receipt,  of  notification,  it  was  the  business  of  each  corporal 
to  bustle  around  and  convey  the  order  to  the  seven  men 
comprising  his  squad.  By  ten  o'clock  on  the  previous 
evening  Fred  Wallace  had  seen  and  notified  every  one  of 
his  party,  and  then,  returning  home,  had  gone  straightway 
to  bed.  "There  won't  be  much  sleep  after  we're  called 
out,"  said  he,  "  so  now  is  my  time." 

It  would  have  been  well  for  all  his  comrades  had  they 
followed  his  example,  but  one  or  two  of  the  weak-headed 
among  them  could  uot  resist  the  temptation  of  going  to  the 
freight  -  yards  to  see  how  matters  were  progressing,  and 
there,  boy  like,  telling  their  acquaintances  among  the  silent, 
Bloomy  knots  of  striking  railway  men,  that  they  too,  "the 
(.iiiards,"  were  ordered  out.  It  was  not  strictly  true,  but 


young  men  and  many  old  ones  rejoice  in  making  a  state- 
ment as  sensational  as  possible.  It  would  not  surprise  or 
excite  a  striker  to  say  "  we've  received  orders  to  be  in  readi- 
ness." It  did  excite  them  not  a  little  when  Billy  Foster 
told  them  in  so  many  words.  ••  S,i\ .  we've  got  our  orders, 
and  you  fellows 'II  have  to  look  out." 

'  "There  need  be  no  resort  to  violence,"  said  the  leaders. 
"  We  can  win  at  a  walk.  The  managers  have  simply  got  to 
come  down  as  soon  as  they  see  we're  in  earnest."  And  at 
ten  o'clock  at  night  the  striking  switchmen,  many  of  them 
ill  at  ease, had  been  waiting  to  see  the  prophesied  "come 
down"  which  was  to  be  the  immediate  result  of  the  tie- 
up.  What  the  leaders  failed  to  mention  to  their  followers 
as  worthy  of  consideration  was  that  superintendents,  yard- 
masters,  conductors,  engineers,  brakemen,  and  firemen,  one 
and  all  had  risen  from  the  bottom,  and  could  throw  switches 
just  as  well  as  those.  en)pl<>\  ed  for  no  other  purpose.  It  w  as 
inconvenient,  of  course.  It  meant  slow  work  at  the  start, 
but  so  far  from  being  paralyzed,  as  the  leaders  predicted, 
the  officials  went  to  work  with  a  vim.  Silk-hatted  man- 
,-i^ers.  Kid -gloved  superintendents,  and  "  dude  -  collared" 
clerks  were  down  in  the  train-shed  swinging  lanterns  and 
handling  switches,  and  so  it  had  resulted  that  all  the  night 
express  trains  of  the  five  companies  using  the  (Jreat  West- 
ern tracks,  one  after  another,  slowly,  cautiously,  but  surely 
had  threaded  the  maze  of  green  and  red  lights,  and  safely 
steamed  over  the  four  miles  of  shining  steel  rails  between 
the  Union  depot  in  the  heart  of  the  city  and  t liesc  outlying 
freight  -  yards,  and,  only  an  hour  or  so  behind  time,  had 
flaunted  their  long  rows  of  brilliantly  lighted  plate-glass 
windows  in  the  sullen  faces  of  the  striking  operatives,  and 
then  gone  whistling  merrily  away  to  their  several  destina- 
tions over  the  dim,  starlit  prairies.  The  managers  were 
only  spurred,  not  paralyzed. 

"We'll  win  yet, "said  Stoltz,  in  a  furious  harangue  to  a 
thousand  hearers, one-tenth  of  them,  only,  rail  way  employes, 
the  others  being  recruited  from  the  tramps,  the  ne'er-do- 
weels, the  unemployed  and  the  criminal  classes,  ever  lurk- 
ing about  a  great  city.  "  The  managers  cannot  play  switch- 
men more  than  one  night,  and  no  men  they  hire  dare  at- 
tempt to  work  in  your  places — if  you're  the  men  I  take  you 
to  be.  Now  I'm  going  to  the  trainmen's  meeting  to  de- 
mand their  aid."  And  go  he  did,  with  the  result  already 
indicated. 

Half  an  hour  after  midnight, despite  the  protests  of  the 
old  and  experienced  men,  the  resolution  to  strike  went 
through  with  a  yell,  anil  when  the  dawn  came,  faint  and 
pallid  in  the  eastern  sky,  and  the  myriad  switch-lights  iu 
the  dark, silent  yards  began  to  grow  blear  and  dim,  there 
stood  the  long  rows  of  freight  cars  doubly  fettered  now, 
for  not  only  were  there  m>  switchmen  to  make  lip  the  trains, 
there  were  no  crews  to  man  them  and  take  them  to  their 
destination.  Jim  Wallace  had  struck  with  the  rest. 

It  was  two  o'clock  when  at  last  the  father  heard  the 
heavy  footfalls  of  his  first-born  on  the  wooden  walk  with- 
out. There  he  seemed  to  pause  for  some  few  words  in  low 
tone  with  a,  companion  who  had  walked  home  with  him 
from  the  yards.  Old  Wallace,  going  to  the  door  to  meet  his 
son,  heard  these  words  as  the  other  turned  away.  "And 
you  tell  Fred  what  I  say.  I'm  a  friend  of  yours,  and  al- 
ways have  been,  but  the  boys  won't  stand  any  nonsense. 
It'll  be  the  worst  for  him  if  he  don't  quit  that  militia  busi- 
ness at  once,  and  if  he  don't,  he  won't  be  the  only  one  to 
suffer." 

"  Who  is  that  ?"  demauded  old  Wallace,  stepping  prompt- 
ly out  from  his  front  door.  "  WTho  threatens  my  son  or  my 

people  .'" 

The  stranger  had  stepped  away  into  the  shade  of  an 
ailantns-tree  before  he  answered.  Jim  Wallace  stood  iu 

in ly  silence,  confused  by  his  father's  suddeu  appearance, 

and  ashamed  that  such  menace  as  this  against  him  and  his 
should  have  been  spoken  without  instant  rebuke.  "What 
I  said  was  meant  in  all  friendship  to  you  and  yours.  Mr. 
Wallace.  You  don't,  know  me,  but  I  know  yon,"  said  the 
stranger,  with  marked  foreign  accent,  but,  in  civil  tone.  "  I 
want  to  avert  trouble  from  your  roof  if  I  can,  and  i  here  I  ore 
told  Jim  to  get  Fred  out  of  that  tin-soldier  connection.  No 
sou  of  yours  ought  to  be  used  in  the  intimidation  of  hon- 


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HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


'WHO    THREATENS    MY    SON    AND    MY    PEOPLE?"    DEMANDED    OLD    WALLACE. 


est  workingmeu  who  only  seek  their  rights,  and  if  be  is 
wise  he'll  quit  it  now  and  at  once." 

"No  son  of  mine  shall  be  intimidated  from  doing  a  sworn 
duty  by  any  such  threats  a.s  yours,"  said  Wallace,  with  ris- 
ing wrath;  "and  if  that's  the  game  you  play  I'm  ashamed 
to  think  that  son  of  mine  has  had  anything  to  do  with  you. 
Who  are  you,  anyway?  What  do  you  mean  by  coming 
round  'intimidating  honest  workingmen,' as  yon  say,  at 
this  hour  of  the  night?  You're  no  trainman.  Man  and 
boy  I've  known  the  hands  on  this  road  nearly  forty  years, 
and  I  never  thought  to  see  the  day  when  rank  outsiders 
could  come  in  and  turn  them  against  one  another  as  you 
have.  Who  are  yon,  I  say  ?" 

"Never  mind  who  I  am,  Mr.  Wallace.  I  speak  what  I 
know,  and  my  voice  is  that  of  ten  thousand  working — or 
more  than  working — thinking  men.  If  you're  wise  you'll 
see  to  it  that  this  is  the  last,  time  your  boy  carries  orders  to 
his  fellows  to  turn  out  against  us,  for  that's  what  he  has 
done.  If  you  don't,  somebody  may  have  to  do  it  for  you." 

"That  isn't  all!"  shouted  the  old  Scotchman,  as  the 
other  turned  away,  "  and  you  hear  this  here  and  now.  My 
voice  is  that  of  ten  million  law-abiding  people,  high  and 
low,  rich  and  poor,  and  it  says  my  boys  shall  stand  by  their 
duty,  the  one  to  his  employers,  the  other  to  his  regiment, 
you  and  your  threats  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding. 
You  haven't  struck,  have  you,  Jim  ?"  he  asked,  turning  iu 
deep  anxiety  to  his  silent,  crestfallen  son. 

And  for  all  answer  Jim  simply  shrugged  his  broad  shoul- 
ders and  made  a  deprecatory  gesture  with  his  brown,  hairy 
hand,  then  turned  slowly  into  the  little  hallway,  and  went 
heavily  to  his  room.  At  breakfast-time  he  was  gone. 

Fred  came  bounding  in  at  half  past  six,  alert  and  eager, 
yet  with  grave  concern  on  his  keen  young  face.  "I've  been 
the  length  of  the  yards,"  he  said,  "and  I'm  hungry  as  a 
wolf,  mother.  They  say  they're  going  to  block  the  incom- 
ing trains,  and  prevent  others  going  out.  Big  crowds  are 
gathering  already,  and  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  we  were 
ordered  on  duty  this  very  day.  Where's  Jim  ?" 

"He  got  up  and  dressed  after  you  went  out,  Fred,"  was 


the  reply.  "He  said 
he  wanted  no  break- 
fast. Father  has 
gone  early  to  the 
shops.  He  thought 
he  might  meet  you." 
"Well,  I'll  stop 
there  to  see  him  on 
my  way  to  the  office. 
I've  got  to  see  Mr. 
Manners  first  thing 
about  getting  off  if 
the  call  comes." 

"I  hope  he'll  say 
no,"  said  Jessie  Wal- 
lace, promptly.  She 
was  the  younger, 
prettier  sister,  and 
the  more  impulsive. 
"  You  thought  the 
regiment  beautiful 
on  Memorial  day, 
Jess,  and  were  glad 
enough  to  go  and  see 
the  parade,"  said 
Fred,  with  a  mouth 
nearly  full  of  por- 
ridge. 

"That's  different. 
I  like  the  band,  and 
the  plumes  and  uni- 
forms, and  parading 
and  drilling,  but  I 
don't  want  yon  to 
be  shot  or  stoned  or 
abused  the  way  the 
other  regiment  was 
at  the  mines  last 
spring." 

"Well,  there's  where  you  and  Manners  don't  agree.  He 
objects  to  my  belonging  because  of  the  parades  and  drills 
and  summer  camp,  says  it's  all  vanity,  foolishness,  and  that 
only  popinjays  want  to  wear  uniforms.  I  guess  he'd  be 
glad  enough  to  have  us  in  line  if  a  mob  should  make  a 
break  for  the  works,  but  I  own  I'm  worried  about  what 
he'll  say  to-day." 

And  Fred  might  well  be  worried.  Dense  throngs  of  ex- 
cited men  were  gathered  along  the  yards  as  he  wended  his 
way  to  the  works  after  a  few  words  with  his  father  at  the 
gloomy  shop.  An  engine  with  some  flat  cars  had  come  out 
with  newly  employed  men  to  man  the  switches.  Engineer, 
firemen,  and  the  newly  employed  had  to  flee  for  their  lives, 
and  the  assistant-superintendent  was  being  carried  to  the 
emergency  hospital  in  a  police  patrol  wagon.  Nobody  was 
being  carried  to  the  police  station.  "There'll  be  worse  for 
the  next  load  that  comes,"  shouted  Stoltz  from  the  side- 
walk, and  a  storm  of  jeers  and  yells  was  the  applauding 
answer.  These  sounds  were  still  ringing  iu  young  Wallace's 
ears  when  he  came  before  the  manager.  Mr.  Manners 
turned  round  in  his  chair  when  Fred  told  him  of  his  orders 
of  the  night  before. 

"  Wallace,"  said  he,  "I  told  you  last  month  that  no  man 
could  serve  two  masters.  We  can't  afford  to  employ  young 
ineu  who  at  any  time  may  be  called  out  to  go  parading 
with  a  lot  of  tin  soldiers." 

"This  isn't  parade,  sir;  It's  business.  It's  protecting 
life  and  property." 

"  Fudge !"  said  Manners  ;  "  let  the  police  attend  to  that — 
or  the  regulars.  It's  their  business.  If  you  leave  your 
desk  on  any  such  ridiculous  orders  you  leave  it  for  good." 

And  at  four  o'clock  that  afternoon,  towards  the  close  of 
a  day  filled  with  wild  rumors  of  riot,  bloodshed,  and  de- 
struction, a  young  man  in  the  neat  service  dress  of  a  ser- 
geant of  infantry — blue  blouse  and  trousers,  and  tan-colored 
felt  hat  and  leggings — walked  in  to  Corporal  Fred's  office 
with  a  written  slip  in  his  hand,  and  Corporal  Fred  walked 
(int. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


768 


OAKLEIGH. 


BY      ELLEN      DOUGLAS      D  E  L  A  X  D. 


CHAPTER    V  I. 

JACK  and  Neal  entered  into  partnership  in  the  poultry 
business. 

"You  see,  I  sha'n't  have  a  cent  of  my  owii  until  I  am 
twenty-live,"  explained  Neal,  "and  my  old  grandmother 
left  most  of  the  cash  to  Hessie.  She  had  some  crazy  old- 
fashioned  notions  about  men  being  able  to  work  for  their 
living,  but  women  couldn't.  It's  all  a  mistake.  Nowadays 
women  can  work  just  as  well  as  men,  if  riot  better.  Be- 
sides, they  marry,  and  their  husbands  ought  to  support 
them.  Now,  what  am  I  going  to  do  when  I  marry  ?" 

Cynthia,  who  was  present  at  this  discussion,  gave  a  little 
laugh.  "Are  you  thinking  of  taking  this  important  strp 
very  soon?  Perhaps  you  will  have  time  to  earn  a  little 
first.  Chickens  may  help  you.  Or  you  might  choose  a 
wife  who  will  work — you  say  womeu  do  it  better  than 
men — and  she  will  be  pleased  to  support  yod,  I  have  no 
doubt." 

They  were  on  the  river,  tied  up  under  an  overhanging 
tree.  Cynthia,  who  had  been  paddling,  sat  in  the  steru  of 
the  canoe  ;  the  boys  were  stretched  in  the  bottom.  It  was 
a  warm,  lazy-feeling  day  for  all  but  Cynthia.  The  boys 
had  been  taking  their  ease  and  allowing  her  to  do  the 
work,  which  she  was  always  quite  willing  to  do. 

"I'll  tell  you  how  it  is,"  continued  Neal,  ignoring  Cyn- 
thia's sarcasm.  "I'll  have  a  tidy  little  sum  when  I  am 
twenty-five,  and  until  then  Hessie  is  to  make  me  an  allow- 
ance and  pay  my  school  and  college  expenses.  She's  pretty 
good  about  it — about  giving  me  extras  now  and  then,  I 
mean — but  you  sort  of  hate  to  be  always  nagging  at  a  girl 
for  money.  It  was  a  rum  way  of  doing  the  thing,  anyhow, 
making  me  dependent  on  her.  I  wish  my  grandmother 
hadn't  been  such  a  hoot-owl." 

Cynthia  looked  at  him  reprovingly.  "You  are  terribly 
disrespectful,"  she  said,  "and  I  think  you  needn't  make 


such  a  fuss.     You're  pretty  lucky  to  have  such  a  sister  as 
mamma." 

"Oh,  Hessie  might  be  worse,  I  don't  deny.  It's  immense 
to  hear  you  great  girls  call  her  'mamma,'  though.  I  never 
thought  to  see  Hessie  marry  a  widower  with  a  lot  of  chil- 
dren. What  was  she  thinking  of,  anyway  ?" 

"  Well,  you  are  polite !  She  was  probably  thinking  what, 
a  very  nice  man  my  father  is, "returned  Cynthia,  loftily. 

"  He  is  a  pretty  good  fellow.  So  far  I  haven't  found  him 
a  bad  sort  of  brother-in-law.  I  don't  know  how  it  will  be 
when  I  put  in  my  demand  for  a  bigger  allowance  in  the 
fall.  I  have  an  idea  he  could  be  pretty  stiff  on  those  occa-- 
sions.  But  that's  why  I  waut  to  go  into  the  poultry  busi- 
ness." 

"And  I  don't  mind  having  you,"  said  Jack.  "Sharing 
the  profits  is  sharing  the  expense,  and  so  far  I've  seen  more 
expense  than  profit.  However,  when  they  begin  to  lay 
and  we  send  the  eggs  to  market,  then  the  money  will  pour 
in.  I  say  we  don't  do  anything  but  sell  eggs.  It  would 
be  an  awful  bore  to  get  broilers  ready  for  market.  By-the- 
way,  I  think  we  had  better  go  back  now  and  finish  up  that 
brooder  we  were  making." 

"Oh,  no  hurry,"  said  Neal.  "It  won't  take  three  min- 
utes to  do  that,  and  it's  jolly  out  here.  It's  the  coolest 
place  I've  been  in  to-day.  Let's  talk  some  more  about  the 
poultry  business.  We'll  call  ourselves  'Franklin  &  Gor- 
don, Oakleigh  Poultry  Farm.'  That  will  look  dandy  ou 
the  bill-heads.  And  we'll  make  a  specialty  of  those  pure 
white  eggs.  I  say,  Cynthia,  what  are  you  grinning  at  1" 

"I  am  not  grinning.     I  am  not  a  Cheshire  cat." 

"  I  don't  know.  I've  already  felt  your  claws  once  or 
twice.  But  you've  got  something1  funny  in  your  head. 
The  corners  of  your  mouth  are  twitching,  and  your  eyes  are 
dancing  like — like  the  river." 

Cynthia  cast   up   her  blue   eyes   in   mock   admiration. 


"YOU    ARE    A    PERFECT    DEAR!"    SHE    WHISPERED. 

769 


•EVERYTHING    IS    NICER    SINCE    YOU    CAME." 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"Hear!  bear!  He  grows  poetical.  But  as  you  are  so  ver.y 
anxious  to  know  what  I  am  'grinning'  at,"  she  added,  de- 
murely, "I'll  tell  you.  I  was  only  thinking  of  a  little 
proverb  I  have  heard.  It  had  something  to  do  with  count- 
ing chickens  before  they  are  hatched.'' 

"Oh,  come  off!"  exclaimed  Jack,  while  Neal  laughed 
good-naturedly. 

"And  I've  also  a  suggestion  to  make,"  went  on  Cynthia. 
"  From  what  I  have  gathered  .during  onr  short  acquaint- 
ance, I  think  Mr.  Neal  Gordon  isn't  over-fond  of  exerting 
himself.  I  think  it  would  be  a  good  idea,  Jack,  when  you 
sign  your  partnership  papers,  or  whatever  they  are,  to  put 
in  something  about  dividing  the  work  as  well  as  the  ex- 
pense and  the  profits." 

'•  There  go  your  claws  again,"  said  Neal.  "  Let's  change 
the  subject  by  trying  to  catch  a  '  lucky-bug." "  And  he 
made  a  grab  towards  the  myriads  of  insects  that  were  dart- 
ing hither  and  thither  on  the  surface  of  the  water.  "I'll 
give  a  prize — this  fiue  new  silver  quarter  to  the  one  who 
catches  a  '  lucky-bug.' '' 

He  laid  the  money  on  the  thwart  of  the  boat  and  made 
another  dash. 

"  When  you  have  lived  on  the  river  as  long  as  I  have 
you'll  know  that  'lucky -bugs'  can't  be  caught,"  said  Cyn- 
thia. "  Now  see  what  yon  have  done,  you  silly  boy!" 

For  with  Neal's  last  effort  the  quarter  had  flown  from 
the  canoe  aud  sunk  with  a  splash  iu  the  river. 

"  Good-by,  quarter!"  sang  Neal.  "I  might  find  you  if  I 
thought  it  would  pay  to  get  wet  for  the  likes  of  you." 

"  If  that  is  the  way  you  treat  quarters,  I  don't  wonder 
you  think  your  allowance  isn't  big  enough,"  said  Cyuthia, 
severely  ;  "  aud  may  I  ask  you  a  question  ?" 

"  You  may  ask  a  dozen ;  but  the  thiug  is,  will  I  answer 
them  ?" 

"You  will  if  I  ask  them.  Were  you  ever  in  a  canoe 
before?" 

"A  desire  to  crush  you  tempts  me  to  say  'yea,'  but  a 
stern  regard  for  truth  compels  me  to  answer  'nay.'" 

"  You  couldn't  crush  me  if  you  tried  for  a  week,  aud  you 
couldn't  make  me  believe  yon  had  ever  been  iu  acauoe  be- 
fore, for  your  actions  show  yon  haveu't.  People  that  have 
spent  their  time  on  yachts  aud  sail-boats  think  they  can  go 
prancing  about  in  a  canoe  and  catch  all  the  lucky-bugs 
they  want.  When  you  have  upset  us  all  you  will  stop 
prancing,  I  suppose." 

"  Claws  again,"  groaned  Neal,  iu  exaggerated  despair. 

"  I  say,  Cynth,  let's  go  back  and  put  him  to  work  on 
that  brooder,"  said  Jack,  who  had  been  enjoying  this  spar- 
ring-match. "  We'll  see  what  work  we  can  get  out  of 
him." 

And,  notwithstanding  his  remonstrances,  Neal  was  pad- 
dled home  aud  put  to  work.  Cynthia's  "claws"  did  take 
effect,  aud  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  began  to  feel  a 
little  ashamed  of  being  so  lazy. 

Jack  was  one  of  the  plodding  kind.  His  mind  was  not 
as  brilliant  as  Neal's,  nor  his  tongue  as  ready,  but  at  the 
end  of  the  year  he  would  have  more  to  show  than  Neal 
Gordon. 

Mrs.  Franklin  carried  out  her  plan  of  inviting  their 
friends  to  the  "hatching  bee,"  and  Thursday  was  the  day 
on  which  the  chicks  were  expected  to  come  out.  As  the 
morning  wore  on  Cynthia's  excitement  grew  more  and  more 
intense,  aud  all  the  family  shared  it. 

"  What  shall  we  do  if  they  dou't  come  out !"  she  exclaim- 
ed a  dozen  times. 

At  one  o'clock  a  crack  was  discovered  in  one  of  the  eggs 
in  the  "thermometer  row."  At  three  it  was  a  decided 
break,  and  several  others  could  be  seen.  Cynthia  declared 
that  she  heard  a  chirping,  but  it  was  very  faint. 

Mi's.  Franklin  remained  upstairs  to  receive  the  guests, 
who  came  down  as  soon  as  they  arrived.  There  were  about 
a  dozen  girls  and  boys.  Fortunately  the  cellar  was  -large 
ami  airy,  aud  the  coolest  place  to  be  found  on  this  warm 
summer  day. 

And  presently  the  fun  began.  Pop  !  pop  !  went  one  egg 
after  another,  aud  out  came  a  little  struggling  chick,  which 
in  due  time  floundered  across  the  other  eggs  or  the  desert- 
ed egg-shells,  and  flopped  dowu  to  the  gravel  beneath  on 


the  lower  floor  of  the  machine.  It  was  funny  to  see  them, 
and,  as  they  gradually  recovered  from  their  efforts,  and 
their  feathers  dried  off,  the  little  downy  balls  crowded  at 
the  front,  and,  chirping  loudly,  pecked  at  the  glass. 

Mrs.  Franklin  joined  them  now  and  then,  and  at  hist, 
when  about  seventy  chicks  had  been  hatched,  she  insisted 
upon  all  coming  np-stairs  for  a  breath  of  fresh  air  before 
supper. 

Here  a  surprise  awaited  them.  Unknown  to  her  daugh- 
ters Mrs.  Franklin  had  given  orders  that  the  supper-table 
should  be  arranged  upon  the  lawn  iu  the  shade  of  the  house, 
aud  when  Edith  stepped  out  on  the  piazza  she  paused  in 
astonishment. 

What  terrible  innovation  into  the  manners  and  customs 
of  Oakleigh  was  this  ?  Last  year,  for  a  little  party  the 
children  gave,  she  had  wanted  tea  ou  the  lawn,  but  it  could 
not  be  accomplished.  How  had  the  new-comer  managed 
to  do  it  ? 

"  Isn't  this  too  lovely!"  cried  Gertrude  Morgan,  enthu- 
siastically, turning  to  Edith.  "  My  dear,  I  think  you  are 
the  luckiest  girl  I  ever  knew,  to  have  any  one  give  you 
such  a  surprise.  Didn't  you  really  know  a  thing  about  it  ?" 

"I  have  been  consulted  about  nothing,"  returned  Edith, 
stiffly.  She  would  have  liked  to  run  upstairs  and  hide, 
out  of  sight  of  the  whole  affair. 

"  I  hope  you  like  the  effect,  Edith,"  said  Mrs.  Franklin, 
coining  up  to  her  as  she  stood  on  the  piazza  step.  "  I 
thought  it  would  be  great  fun  to  surprise  you." 

•'  I  detest  surprises  of  all  kinds,"  replied  Edith,  turning 
away,  "  and  it  seems  to  me  I  have  had  nothing  else 
lately." 

Much  disappointed  and  greatly  hurt,  Mrs.  Frauklin  was 
about  to  speak  again,  but  at  this  moment  Cynthia,  enchant- 
ed with  the  success  of  the  hatch,  aud  with  the  pretty  sight 
ou  the  lawn,  rushed  up  to  her  step-mother  aud  squeezed 
her  arm. 

"You  are  a  perfect  dear!"  she  whispered.  "Everything 
is  nicer  since  you  came.  Even  the  chickens  came  out  for 
you,  aud  last  time  it  was  so  dreadful."  And  Mrs.  Franklin 
smiled  again  and  felt  comforted. 

The  table  was  decorated  with  roses  and  lovely  ferns, 
strewn  here  aud  there  with  apparent  carelessness,  but  really 
after  much  earnest  study  of  effects.  Bowls  of  great  uu- 
hulled  strawberries  added  their  touch  of  color,  as  did  the 
generous  slices  of  golden  sponge-cake.  The  dainty  china 
and  glass  gleamed  in  the  afternoon  light,  aud  the  artistic 
arrangement  added  not  a  little  to  the  already  good  appe- 
tites of  the  boys  aud  girls. 

Fortunately  Oakleigh  was  equal  to  any  emergency  iu 
the  eating  line,  aud  as  rapidly  as  the  piles  of  three-cornered 
sandwiches,  fairylike  rolls,  and  other  goodies  disappeared 
the  dishes  were  replenished  as  if  by  magic. 

After  supper  the  piano  was  rolled  over  to  the  front  win- 
dow in  the  long  parlor. 

"  Put  it  close  to  the  window,"  said  Mrs.  Franklin,  "  and  I 
will  sit  outside,  like  the  eldest  daughter  in  The  I'eterkins, 
to  play.  That  will  give  me  the  air,  and  you  can  hear  the 
music  better." 

They  dauced  on  the  lawn  and  played  games  to  the 
music;  then  they  gathered  on  the  porch  and  sang  college 
songs,  while  the  sun  sank  at  the  end  of  the  long  summer 
day,  aud  the  stars  came  twinkling  out,  aud  by-aud-by  the 
full  moon  rose  over  the  tree-tops  aud  flooded  them  with 
her  light. 

Altogether,  Jack's  second  "  hatching  bee  "  was  a  suc- 
cess. A  good  time,  a  good  supper,  and,  best  of  all,  one 
hundred  aud  forty  chickens.  Yes,  it  really  seemed  as  if 
poultry  were  going  to  pay,  aud  "Franklin  &  Gordon,"  of 
the  Oakleigh  Poultry  Farm,  weut  to  bed  quite  elated  with 
prosperity. 

The  next  morning  at  breakfast  they  were  discussing  the 
matter,  and  Mr.  Franklin  expressed  his  unqualified  approval 
of  the  scheme. 

"If  you  succeed  in  raising  your  chickens, now  that  they 
are  hatched,  Jack,  my  boy,  I  think  you  are  all  right.  You 
owe  Aunt  Betsey  a  debt  of  thanks.  By-the-way,  where  is 
Aunt  Betsey  ?  Have  you  heard  from  her  lately  ?" 

There  was   no   answer.      Jack   exploded   into   a   laugh 


770 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


which  he  quickly  repressed,  Edith  looked  very  solemn, 
while  Cynthia  had  the  appearance  of  being  on  the  verge 
of  tears. 

"I  want  to  see  Aunt  Betsey,''  said  Mrs.  Franklin,  as  she 
Imttered  a  roll  for  Willy.  "I  think  she  must  be  a  very 
interesting  character." 

"It  is  very  extraordinary  that  we  have  heard  nothing 
from  her,"  went  on  Jlr.  Franklin.  ''  What  can  be  the  mean- 
ing of  it  ?  When  was  she  last  here,  Edith  ?" 

"  In  Jinn1 

"Was  it  when  I  was  at  home?  Hasn't  she  been  here 
since  the  time  she  gave,  Jack  the  money  for  the  incuba- 
tor ;" 

"That  was  in  May.  You  were  in  Albany  when  she  was 
here  tin-  hist  time." 

"It.  is  very  strange  that  she  has  never  written  nor  come 
to  see  you,  Hester.  It  can't  be  that  she  is  offended  with 
something,  can  it?  I  must  take  you  up  to  Way  borough 
to  see  the  dear  old  lady.  I  am  very  foud  of  Aunt  lirtsrx, 
and  I  would  not  hurt  her  feelings  for  the  world." 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then  into  the  silence  came  Janet's 
shrill  tones  : 

"I  know  why  Aunt  Betsey's  feelings  are  hurted.  They 
was  turribly  hurted.  Edith  an'  Cynthia  an' Jack  all  knows 
too.'' 

"Janet,  hush!"  interposed  Edith. 

••  Not  at  all  ;  let  the  child  speak,"  said  her  father. 
"  What  do  you  know,  Janet?" 

••  Aunt  Betsey  came,  an'  she  went  to  see  Mrs.  Parker,  an' 
Mrs.  Parker  said  she'd  been  there  before  an' Aunt  Betsey 
said  she  hadn't,  an'  it  wasn't  Aunt  Betsey  at  all,  it  was 
Cynthia  dressed  up  like  her,  an'  Aunt  Betsey  said  we  was 
all  naughty  "cause  we  didn't  want  the  bride  to  conic,  an' 
the  bride  was  mamma,  an'  we  didn't  want  her,  it  was  the 
trnfe,  an' Aunt  Betsey  went  ott"  mad 'cause  Cynthia  dressed 
up  like  her.  She  wouldn't  stay  all  night,  she  just  went  oft' 
slam-bang  hopping  mad." 

"What  does  the  child  mean!"  exclaimed  her  father. 
"  Will  some  one  explain  ?  Edith,  what  was  the  trouble  ?" 

"I  would  rather  not  say, "said  Edith,  her  eyes  fastened 
cm  her  plate. 

"  That  is  no  way  to  speak  to  your  father.     Answer  me." 

"Papa,  I  cannot.     It  is  not  my  affair." 

"  It  is  your  affair.     I  insist." 

"  Wait,  John,"  interposed  Mrs.  Franklin. 

"  Not  at  all ;  I  can't  wait.  Edith  was  here  in  charge  of 
the  family.  Something  happened  to  offend  Aunt  Betsey. 
Now  she  must  explain  what  it  was.  I  hold  her  responsible." 

"Indeed  she's  not,  papa,"  said  Cynthia,  at  last  finding 
her  voice.  "Edith  is  not  to  blame;  I  am  the  one.  I 
found  Aunt  Betsey's  false  front,  and  I  dressed  up  and  looked 
exactly  like  her,  and  Jack  drove  me  to  see  Mrs.  Parker. 
Edith  didn't  want  me  to  go,  but  I  would  do  it.  Keally, 
papa,  Edith  isn't  a  bit  to  blame.  And  then  when  Aunt 
Betsey  came  soon  afterwards  she  went  to  see  Mrs.  Parker, 
and  she  didn't  like  it  because  she  said  she  had  been  there 
two  weeks  ago  and  told  her — I  mean,  Mrs.  Parker  told  me 
abon  t — 

Cynthia  stopped  abruptly. 

"  Well,  go  on,"  said  her  father,  impatiently. 

Still  Cynthia  said  nothing. 

"Cynthia,  will  you  continue?     If  not — 

"Oh  yes,  papa  ;  though — but — well,  Mrs.  Parker  told  me 
that  yon  were  going  to  marry  again.  And  then  when 
Aunt  Betsey  really  went,  Mrs.  Parker  said, 'I  told  yon' so.' 
Aunt  Betsey  didn't  like  that,  and  when  she  asked  ns  if  she 
had  been  here,  of  course  we  had  to  say  no,  and  she  was  go- 
ing right  back  to  tell  Mrs.  Parker  what  we  said  ;  so  I  had 
to  confess,  and,  of  course,  Aunt  Betsey  didn't  like  it,  and 
she  went  right  home  that  day." 

Mr.  Franklin  pushed  back  his  chair  from  the  table,  and 
began  to  walk  up  and  down. 

"I  am  perfectly  astonished  at  your  doing  such  a  thing, 
and  more  astonished  still  that  Edith — 

"  Papa,  please  don't  say  another  word  about  Edith.  She 
didn't  want  me  to  go,  and  I  would  do  it." 

"  Why  have  yon  not  told  me  all  this  before  ?" 

"Because,  you  see,  I  couldn't.     I  had  heard  that    you 


were  going  to  bo  married,  anil  1  didn't  believe  it  until  you 
told  me  ;  at  least — 

Cynthia  paused  and  grew  uncomfortably  red. 

"Poor  chihl!"  said  Mrs.  Franklin,  smiling  at  her  sympa- 
thetically. "It  must  have  been  very  hard  for  you." 

"  It  was,"  said  Cynthia,  simply;  "  only  you  know,mamma, 
I  don't  feel  a  bit  so  now.  And  then  when  you  came  home, 
papa,  it  was  all  so  exciting  I  forgot  about  it,  and  I  have 
only  thought  of  it  once  in  a  while,  and — well,  I've  been 
afraid  to  tell  you,"  she  added,  honestly. 

"I  should  think  so!  I  am  glad  you  have  the  grace  to 
be  ashamed  of  yourself,  Cynthia.  Has  no  apology  gone  to 
Aunt  Betsey  .'" 

"No,  papa." 

"It  is  outrageous.  The  only  thing  to  do  is  to  go  there 
at  once.  Jack,  get  the  Pathfinder." 

The  Pathfinder,  boon  of  New  England  households,  was 
brought,  and  Mr.  Franklin  studied  the  trains  for  Way- 
borougli. 

"  Hester,  you  had  better  come  too.  It  is  only  proper 
that  I  should  take  you  to  call  on  Aunt  Betsey.  Get  ready 
now,  and  we  will  go  for  the  day." 

The  Franklins  were  quite  accustomed  to  these  sudden 
decisions  on  the  part  of  their  father,  and  Mrs.  Franklin  did 
not  demur.  She  and  Cynthia  hurried  off  to  make  ready, 
and  the  carriage  was  ordered  to  take  them  to  the  station. 

Cynthia's  preparations  did  not  take  long.  Her  sailor- 
hat  perched  sadly  on  one  side,  her  hair  tied  with  a  faded 
him;  ribbon,  one  of  the  cuffs  of  her  shirt-waist  fastened 
with  a  pin.  All  this  Edith  took  in  at  a  glance. 

"  ( '\  nthia,  you  look  like  a  guy." 

"I  guess  I  am  one." 

"Don't  be  so  terribly  Yankee  as  to  say  'guess.'" 

"  I  am  a  Yankee,  so  why  shouldn't  I  talk  like  one  ?  Oh, 
Edith,  what  do  I  care  about  ribbons  and  sleeve-buttons 
when  I  have  to  go  and  apologize  to  Aunt  Betsey." 

Kdith  was  supplying  the  deficiencies  in  her  sister's  toilet. 

"It  is  too  bad.  Janet  ought  not  to  have  told.  But  it 
is  just  like  everything  else — all  Mrs.  Franklin's  fault." 

"Edith,  what  do  yon  mean?  Mamma  did  not  make 
Janet  tell ;  she  tried  to  stop  papa." 

"I  know  she  appeared  to.  But  if  papa  had  not  married 
again  would  this  ever  have  happened?  You  would  not 
have  heard  at  Mrs.  Parker's  that  he  was  going  to,  Mrs. 
Parker  wouldn't  have  said  'I  told  you  so'  to  Aunt  Betsey, 
Aunt  Betsey  wouldn't  have  found  out  yon  were  there  — 

"Edith,  what  a  goose  you  are!  Any  other  time  you 
would  scold  me  for  having  done  it,  and  I  know  I  deserve 
it.  Now  yon  are  putting  all  the  blame  on  mamma.  You 
are  terribly  unjust." 

''There,  now,  you  have  turned  against  me,  all  because 
of  Mrs.  Franklin.  I  declare  it  is  too  bad  !" 

"Oh,  Edith,  I  do  wonder  when  you  will  rind  out  what 
a  lovely  woman  mamma  is!  Of  course  you  will  have  to 
some  day ;  yon  can't  help  it.  There,  they  are  calling,  and 
I  must  run  !  Good-by." 

Hastily  kissing  her  sister,  Cynthia  ran  off. 

Neal  had  much  enjoyed  the  scene  at  the  breakfast-table. 
He  only  wished  that  he  had  been  present  when  Cynthia 
impersonated  her  aunt.  It  must  have  been  immense.  He 
wished  that  he  could  go  also  to  Wayborough,  but  he  was 
not  invited  to  join  the  party.  He  was  to  be  left  alone  for 
the  day  with  Edith,  for  Mr.  Franklin  had  decided  that 
Jack  should  accompany  them,  to  thank  Aunt  Betsey  once 
more,  and  to  tell  her  himself  of  the  success  of  the  hatch. 

"I'll  have  to  step  round  pretty  lively,  then,"  said  Jack. 
"Those  birds  must  get  to  the  brooders  before  I  go.  Come 
along,  Neal.  It's  an  awful  bore  having  to  go  to  Waybor- 
ough  the  very  first  day.  You'll  have  to  look  after  the 
chicks,  and  don't  you  forget  it." 

The  chickens  safely  housed,  and  the  family  gone,  Neal 
prepared  to  enjoy  the  day.  He  had  made  up  his  mind 
to  see  something  of  Edith,  and  he  had  no  idea  of  working 
by  himself,  especially  as  there  was  no  absolute  necessity 
for  it, 

"The  day  is  too  hot  for  work,  anyhow,"  he  said  to  him- 
self. 

[TO    BE    CONTINCED.] 


771 


STORIES     OF     OUR     GOVERNHENT. 

THE    PRESIDENT'S    CABINET. 


BY     THE    HONORABLE    THEODORE    ROOSEVELT. 


TIIHE  executive  business  of  the  national  government  is 
_L  divided  into  eight  departments,  and  the  heads  of 
these  eight  departments  are  known  as  Cabinet  officers,  and 
form  the  President's  Cabinet. 

It  often  happens  that  we  use  the  same  name  that  is  used 
in  Eugland  for  an  officer  or  an  institution,  which  is  not, 
however,  quite  the  same,  aud  is  sometimes  widely  different, 
and  we  must  always  be  on  our  guard  not  to  be  confused  by 
such  seeming  similarity.  This  is  true  in  our  political  life, 
just  as  it  is  true  in  our  sports.  For  instance,  we  could  not 
get  an  international  match  between  Harvard,  Yale,  or 
Princeton,  and  Oxford  or  Cambridge  on  the  football  field, 
because,  although  football  is  played  at  all  of  them,  yet  the 
game  in  the  American  colleges  is  so  different  from  that- 
played  iu  the  English  universities  that  it  would  be  impos- 
sible to  have  Americau  aud  English  teams  meet  on  the 
same  ground,  any  more  than  we  could  put  a  baseball  nine 
against  a  cricket  eleven.  It  is  just  the  same  way  in  our 
politics.  The  Senate  is  sometimes  spoken  of  as  corres- 
ponding to  the  House  of  Lords ;  but  they  really  have  few 
points  of  resemblance,  save  that  they  are  both  second 
chambers.  So  the  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Representatives 
is  sometimes  spoken  of  as  if  his  position  corresponded  to 
that  of  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Commons.  This  is  not 
true  at  all.  The  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Commons  is, 
properly,  merely  a  moderator,  like  the  moderator  of  a  New 
England  town  meeting,  and  his  duty  is  to  preside  and  keep 
order,  but  not  to  be  a  Speaker,  iu  our  sense  of  the  word,  at 
all,  not  to  give  any  utterance  to  party  policy.  In  the 
American  House,  on  the  contrary,  the  Speaker  is  the  great 
party  leader,  who  is  second  iu  power  and  influence  only  to 
the  President  himself.  The  functions  of  the  two  officers 
have  nothing  iu  common,  save  iu  the  mere  presiding  over 
the  deliberations  of  the  body  itself. 

So  in  England  the  cabinet  officers  are  all  legislators, 
exactly  as  the  Prime  Minister,  their  chief,  aud  they  are 
elected  by  separate  constituencies  just  as  he  is.  In  Amer- 
ica the  cabinet  officers  are  not  legislators  at  all,  and  have 
no  voice  in  legislation.  Instead  of  beiug  elected  by  their 
own  constituencies,  they  are  appointed  by  the  President, 
and  he  is  directly  responsible  for  them.  It  is  upon  his 


THE   CABINET-ROOM 


Cabinet  officers  that  the  President  has  to  rely  for  informa- 
tion as  to  what  action  to  take,  in  ordinary  cases,  and  lie 
has  to  trust  to  them  to  see  the  actual  executive  business 
of  the  government  well  performed. 

The  chief  of  them  all  is  the  Secretary  of  State.  At  the 
Cabinet  meetings  he  sits  on  the  right  hand  of  the  Presi- 
dent. He  would  take  the  President's  place  should  both  the 
President  and  the  Vice-President  die.  It  is  he  who  shapes 
or  advises  the  shaping  of  our  foreign  policy,  and  who  has 
to  deal  with  our  ministers  aud  consuls  abroad.  He  does 
not  have  nearly  as  much  work  to  do,  under  ordinary  cir- 
cumstances, as  several  other  Cabinet  officers;  but  whereas 
if  they  blunder  it  is  only  a  question  of  internal  affairs,  and 
is  a  blunder  that  we  ourselves  can  remedy,  if  the  Secretary 
of  State  blunders  it  may  involve  the  whole  nation  in  war, 
or  may  involve  the  surrender  of  rights  which  ought  never 
to  be  given  up  save  through  war.  Questions  of  grave 
difficulty  with  foreign  powers  continually  arise  :  now  about 
fisheries  or  sealing  rights  with  Great  Britain,  now  about  an 
island  in  the  Pacific  with  Germany,  now  about  some  Cuban 
lilibnsterinu;  expedition  with  Spain,  and  again  with  some 
South-American  or  Asiatic  power  over  insults  offered  to  our 
flag,  or  outrages  committed  on  our  citizens.  Allot"  these  ques- 
tious  come  before  the  Secretary  of  State,  and  it  is  his  duty 
to  digest  them  thoroughly,  and  advise  the  President  of  the 
proper  course  to  take  iu  the  matter.  The  Secretary  of  State 
very  largely  holds  iu  his  hands  the  national  honor. 

Next  iu  importance  to  the  Secretary  of  State  comes  the 
Secretary  of  the  Treasury.  The  great  economic  questions 
which  the  country  always  has  to  face  are  those  connected 
with  the  currency  and  the  tariff',  and  the  Secretary  of  the 
Treasury  has  to  deal  with  both.  On  his  policy  it  largely 
depends  whether  the  business  of  our  merchants  is  to  shrink 
or  grow,  whether  the  workiugmen  in  our  factories  shall  see 
their  wages  increase  or  lessen,  whether  our  debts  shall  be 
paid  in  money  that  is  worth  more  or  less  than  when  they 
were  contracted,  or  in  money  that  is  worth  practically  the 
same.  I  do  not  uieau  by  this  to  say  for  a  moment  that  the 
Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  or  any  other  official,  can  do  any- 
thing like  as  much  for  the  prosperity  of  any  class  or  of  any 
individual  as  that  class  or  individual  can  do  for  itself  or 
himself.  Iu  the  end  it  is  each  man's  in- 
dividual capacity  aud  efforts  which  count 
for  most.  No  legislation  can  make  any 
mau  permanently  prosperous ;  and  the 
worst  evil  we  caii  do  is  to  persuade  a 
man  to  trust  to  anything  save  his  own 
powers  aud  dogged  perseverance.  Nev- 
ertheless, the  Secretary  of  the  Treasury 
can  shape  a  policy  which  will  do  great 
good  or  great  harm  to  our  industries  ;  and, 
moreover,  he  has  to  work  out  the  finan- 
cial and  tariff'  policies  which  he  tiiiuks 
the  President  aud  the  party  leaders  de- 
mand. The  position  is  therefore  one  of 
the  utmost  importance. 

The  Postmaster  -  General  has  to  deal 
with  more  offices  than  auy  other  official, 
for  he  lias  to  control  .ill  the  post-offices 
of  the  United  States.  He  is  the  great  ad- 
ministrative officer  of  the  country.  Un- 
fortunately, under  our  stupid  spoils  sys- 
tem, postmasters  are  appointed  merely  for 
political  reasons,  aud  are  changed  with 
every  change  of  party,  no  matter  what 
their  services  to  the  community  have 
been.  This  is  a  very  silly  and  very  brutal 
practice,  and  all  friends  of  honest  govern- 
ment are  striving  to  overthrow  it  by 
bringing  in  the  policy  of  civil  service  re- 
form. Under  this  all  these  postmasters 
will  be  appointed  purely  because  they 
will  make  good  postmasters,  and  will  ren- 


772 


.1.  D.  Mm  ton,  ARN 


H.  Smith,  Interior 


J.  G.  Carlisle,  Treasury.  H.  Herbert,  Navy.  R.  Oiney,  State. 

A    MEETING    OF    THE    CABINET. 


D.  Lainont,  War. 


der  faithful  service  to  the  people  of  their  districts,  and 
they  will  be  kept  so  long  as  they  do  reiuler  it,  and  no  lon- 
ger. 

The  Secretary  ol'the  Interior  lias  to  deal  with  the  disposal 
anil  management  of  the  great  masses  of  lands  we  have  in 
the  West,  aud  also  he  has  to  deal  with  the  management.  «f 
the  Indians,  and  with  the  administration  of  the  pension 
laws.  All  three  are  most  difficult  problems,  and  their  so- 
lution demands  the  utmost  care,  patriotism,  and  intelli- 
gence. 

The  Attorney-General  is  the  law  officer  of  the  govern- 
ment. He  sees  to  the  execution  of  the  Federal  laws 
throughout  the  country,  auU  appoints  his  agents  to  do  this 
work  in  every  district  of  every  State,  and  he  also  advises 
the  President  and  heads  of  departments  on  all  legal  mat- 
ters. 

The  Secretary  of  Agriculture  is  a  man  of  mixed  duties. 
A  good  many  bureaus  of  one  kind  and  another  are  under 
his  supervision,  and  most  of  the  scientific  work  of  the  gov- 
ernment is  done  under  him.  Some  of  the  scientific  bureaus, 
however,  are  under  other  departments.  The  work  done 
by  these  scientific  bureaus,  as  by  the  coast  survey  and  the 
geological  survey,  and  by  the  zoologists  in  the  department, 
lias  been  of  the  very  highest  value,  and  has  won  cordial  rec- 
ognition from  all  European  countries.  Much  of  the  work 
of  the  early  scientific  explorers  in  the  West  reads  like  a 
veritable  romance;  and  this  governmental  work  has  added 
enormoiislv  to  our  knowledge  in  all  branches  of  science, 
from  the  natural  history  of  mammals  and  birds,  to  the  ge- 
ological formation  of  mountains,  aud  the  contour  of  the 
coasts. 

The  remaining  two  officers  are  the  Secretary  of  the  Navy 
and  the  Secretary  of  War.  The  Secretary  of  the  Navy, 
again,  occupies  a  most  important  position,  for  upon  the 
navy  depends  to  a  very  great  extent  the  nation's  power  of 
protecting  its  citizens  abroad,  and  of  enforcing  the  respect 
to  which  it  is  entitled.  Most  fortunately  for  the  last  ten 
or  twelve  years  the  secretaries  of  the  navy  have  done  ad- 
mirable work.  Each  has  built  on  the  good  work  of  his  pre- 


decessor, so  that  we  are  gradually  getting  our  navy  to  a 
pitch  where  it  can  worthily  uphold  the  honor  and  dignity 
of  the  American  nag. 

The  Secretary  of  War  is  an  officer  whose  duties  are  usu- 
ally not  very  important,  as  he  has  comparatively  little  of 
consequence  to  do  during  time  of  peace,  but  is  perhaps 
the  most  important  officer  of  the  Cabinet,  with  the  sole  ex- 
ception of  the  Secretary  of  State,  whenever  a  war  arises.  He 
has  all  kinds  of  work  to  do  even  in  peace,  however.  Thus 
during  the  last  two  or  three  years  the  experiment  has  been 
tried  on  a  large  scale  of  working  the  Indians  in  as  soldiers; 
and  although  hitherto  this  experiment  has  not  had  the 
success  its  promoters  anticipated,  yet  good  has  been  ob- 
tained by  it.  But  when  war  conies,  the  Secretary, _if  not  a 
powerful  man,  will  be  crushed  helplessly  ;  and  if  a  power- 
ful man,  cau  do  great  good  for  the  country  aud  win  a  great 
name  for  himself,  for  in  war  he  stands  as  one  of  the  supreme 
officers,  and  upon  his  energy  aud  capacity  depends  much 
of  the  success  of  the  contest. 

A  strong  President  will  usually  make  up  his  mind  on 
certain  policies  aud  carry  them  out  without  regard  to  his 
Cabinet,  merely  informing  them  that,  their  duty  is  to  do  the 
work  allotted  to  them;  but  except  in  the  case  of  these  few- 
policies,  to  which  the  President  is  committed,  and  the 
workings  of  which  he  thoroughly  understands,  he  has  to 
rely  on  his  advisers. 

The  necessary  advice  is  given  him  in  these  Cabinet 
meetings  as  well  as  privately.  At  these  meetings  the  busi- 
ness of  the  departments  is'disenssed,  and  also  all  questions 
of  public  policy  of  sufficient  importance  to  make  the  Presi- 
dent feel  he  would  like  advice  about  them.  Of  course  the 
importance  of  the  questions  thus  discussed  may  vary  much, 
ranging  between  the  adoption  of  a  course  of  policy  which 
may  force  Great  Britain  into  war  with  us  on  the  one  hand, 
and  on  the  other  the  abolition  of  the  annual  football  games 
between  Annapolis  and  West  Point.  The  average  Cabinet, 
officer  has  a  great  responsibility,  and  can  exert  a  most 
powerful  influence  for  good  or  for  evil  throughout  the  en- 
tire republic. 


773 


HARPER'S  ROUND  TAJ'.LE 


^r^»i^TTg\jp 


Thi«  Departme.if  is  conducted  in  ih.  inl,.i...i  ..rcirls  and  Yonne  W.inun,  and  llw  EJilnr  nil] 
be  plensed  to  answer  any  question  oil  the  subject  so  far  as  possible.  Correspondents  should 
ad.lrtss  Editor. 

YOU  can  tell  uie  nothing  about  it,  girls,  nothing  that  I 
do  not  perfectly  understand  when  yon  confide  to  me 
that  yon  find  vacation  days  rather  slow  of  pace.  Jenny 
Lucille  spent  last  year  in  college,  studying  hard,  and  under 
high  pressure  from  her  entrance  as  a  Freshman  till  the  day 
she  passed  her  examinations  triumphantly,  and  was  ready 
to  begin  her  work  as  a  Sophomore.  It  was  due  to  her 
parents,  who  were  making  a  great  sacrifice  in  sending  her 
from  home,  that  she  should  do  her  best,  and  be  an  honor 
and  credit  to  them,  and  being  a  girl  of  acute  sensitiveness 
am!  much  devotion  to  duty,  Jenny  would  have  been  inca- 
pable of  wasting  her  time.  Then  it  is,  after  the  first  feeling 
of  homesickness  wears  oft',  a  gay  and  exciting  world,  this 
college  world  where  so  many  young  women  are  gathered, 
where  there  are  sports  and  games  and  pleasant  social  even- 
ings, and  the  feeling  that  something  worth  while  is  hap- 
pening every  day.  The  time  flies,  especially  the  last  half 
of  the  last  term,  and  at  last,  when  there  is  a  breaking-np, 
and  the  girls  separate  and  take  their  different  ways  for 
borne,  notwithstanding  their  gladness  that  they  are  going 
to  meet  their  dear  home  people,  tears  fill  many  eyes,  and 
overflow  furtively,  and  wet  dainty  handkerchiefs,  and  not 
till  the  train  or  the  boat  is  fairly  otf  are  the  faces  quite 
bright  again. 

WELL,  home  is  reached,  and  home  is  sweet.  How  kind 
and  hearty  the  father's  greeting,  how  loving  the  mother's 
word  and  look,  how  much  the  children  have  grown,  how 
nice  it  is  to  be  in  one's  own  room  again,  and  to  sit  in  one's 
own  old  seat  at  the  dear  home  table  !  But  after  a  little,  if 
the  household  be  a  quiet  one,  and  the  village  or  town  a 
place  in  which  little  goes  on,  the  girl  is  vexed  to  find  her- 
self a  wee  bit  blue.  She  wouldn't  let  anybody  divine  it; 
she  shakes  herself,  and  calls  herself  names  in  private,  but 
she  has  to  tight  to  be  cheerful,  and  now  and  then  she  sits 
down  and.  writes  a  long  letter  to  her  chum,  and  indulges  in 
a  good  comfortable  cry,  with  nobody  to  guess  that  she  is 
not  entirely  contented,  as  indeed  all  sensible  people  would 
say  she  ought  to  be.  The  chniii  at  Bar  Harbor  or  Put-iu- 
Bay,  or  some  nook  in  the  White  or  Green  or  Blue  Moun- 
tains, some  perch  in  the  Rockies,  or  springs,  or  beach,  or 
other  gay  resort,  has  had  no  time  to  be  bine,  and  lier  letter 
back  will  be  a  complete  contrast  to  Jenny's. 

Now,  my  dear  Jenny,  listen  to  me  !  This  fit  of  low  spirits 
will  pass  presently,  and  you  will  be  none  the  worse  for 
it,  if  yon  will  just  credit,  it  to  the  account  of  reaction. 
Take  hold  of  whatever  work  there  is  to  do  in  the  house,  the 
harder  the  better,  and  do  it  with  both  hands.  Read  an  en- 
tertaining book,  not  a  study  book,  but  a  bright  story,  the 
novel  people  are  talking  about,  or  else  the  novel  of  yester- 
day, which  you  have  always  felt  yon  ought  to  read,  but  have 
not  yet  had  time  to  attack  in  earnest.  Hawthorne,  Wilkie 
Collins,  Thackeray,  Dickens,  choose  your  author  and  your 
book,  and  float  oft'  into  the  life  of  imagination,  which  cheats 
the  life  of  the  actual  of  so  much  of  its  pain. 

WHATEVER  else  you  do,  resolutely  speak  brightly  and 
look  cheerful.  The  brave  effort  to  be  bright  aud  cheerful 
on  the  outside  braces  up  the  inside  wonderfully,  soul  aud 
body,  as  you  know,  being  such  inseparable  partners. 


WEATHER  INDICATIONS. 

IF  you  can't  afl'ord  a  barometer  to  tell  yon  what  kind  of 
Weather  you  are  going  to  have,  perhaps  the  following 
old  proverbs  will  prove  of  use  in  helping  you  to  prophesy 
as  to  whether  it  will  rain  to-morrow  or  not : 

If  spiders  in  spinning  their  webs  make  the  termination 
filaments  long,  we  may,  in  proportion  to  the  length,  con- 
clude that  the  weather  will  be  serene,  and  continue  so  for 
ten  or  twelve  days. 

If  many  gnats  are  seen  in  the  spring. expect  a  fine  au- 
tumn; if  gnats  lly  in  compact  bodies  in  the  beams  of  the 
setting  sun,  there  will  be  fine  weather. 

If  the  garden  spiders  break  and  destroy  their  webs  and 
creep  away,  expect  rain  or  showery  weather. 

If  sheep,  rams,  aud  goats  spring  around  in  the  meadows. 
and  fight  more  than  usual,  expect  rain. 

If  cattle  leave  oft'  feeding,  and  chase  each  other  around 
the  pastures,  rain. 

If  cats  back  their  bodies  and  wash  their  faces,  rain. 

If  foxes  and  dogs  howl  and  bark  more  than  usual,  if 
dogs  grow  sleepy  and  dull,  rain. 

If  moles  cast  up  hills,  rain. 

If  horses  stretch  out  their  necks  and  sniff  the  air  aud  as- 
semble in  the  corner  of  a  field  with  their  heads  to  leeward, 
rai  n . 

If  rats  and  mice  be  restless,  rain. 

If  peacocks  and  guinea  fowls  scream,  and  turkeys  gobble, 
and  if  quails  make  more  noise  than  usual,  rain. 

If  the  sea  birds  lly  toward  land,  and  laud  birds  toward 
the  sea,  rain. 

If  the  cock  crows  mine  than  usual,  and  earlier,  expect 
rain. 

If  swallows  fly  lower  than  usual,  expect  rain. 

If  bats  flutter  and  beetles  fly  about,  there  will  be  line 
weather. 

If  birds  in  general  pick  their  feathers,  wash  themselves, 
and  fly  to  their  nests,  rain. 

Some  of  the  queerest  miscellaneous  quips  received  are  to 
the  effect  that: 

If  there  are  no  falling  stars  to  be  seen  on  a  bright  summer 
evening,  you  may  look  for  fine  weather. 

If  there  be  many  falling  stars  on  a  clear  evening  in  sum- 
mer, there  will  be  thunder. 

A  rainbow  in  the  morning  is  the  shepherd's  warning. 

If  fish  bite  more  readily,  and  gambol  near  the  surface  of 
the  ponds  and  streams,  then  look  out  for  rain. 

If  porpoises  and  whales  sport  about  ships,  expect  a  hur- 
ricane. 

The  best  proverb  of  all,  however,  is  the  following  coup- 
let: 

A  coming  storm  your  toes  anil  teeth  presage  ; 
Your  corns  will  ache,  your  hollow  molars  rage. 


I 


f 


HOW   TO  MAKE  A  HERBARIUM. 

BY  CAROLINE  A.  CREEVEY. 

A  YOUNG  lady  who  was  a  great  lover  of  wild  flowers 
once  brought  me  a  number  of  pressed  specimens  to 
name.  They  were  carefully  pressed,  lint  were  loosely  laid 
between  the  pages  of  a  magazine.  Among  them  were  sev- 
eral choice  plants,  one  or  two  of  the  rarer  orchids,  and  n 
ginseng  that  I  had  never  found.  In  handling  them  tin- 
leaves  and  flower  petals  had  become  broken. 

"Your  specimens  are  being  ruined,"  I  said.  "Why  do 
you  not  gum  them  each  on  a  separate  piece  of  paper  and 
lay  them  in  a  box?  Y'on  have  here  an  excellent  begin- 
ning for  a  herbarium." 

"Oh  dear,  no!"  she  said.  "I  never  could  take  tin- 
trouble  to  make  a  herbarium.  I  don't  care  for  the  ling- 
ers after  I  know  what  they  are.  Y'ou  may  have  them  all, 
aud  welcome.'' 

She  had  doubtless  seen  the  longing  look  in  my  eyes.  I 
was  generous,  however,  and  tried  to  persuade  my  friend  ti> 


774 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


treasure  her  own  flowers,  \\  hieh  slie  had  been  at  some  pains 
to  press,  assuring  her  that  the  herbarium  did  certainly  pay 
for  its  trouble,  and  that  unless  she  were  a  collector  she 
would  fail  of  becoming  a  real  botanist.  My  arguments 
had  no  ett'ect,  and  I  fell  heir  to  my  friend's  specimens. 

Another  time  a  lady  (a  member  of  a  botanical  club)  said 
to  me:  "I  don't  care  to  make  a  collection.  I  would  as 
soon  look  at  hay  as  dried  plants.  What  I  want  to  study 
is  lifintf  nature." 

This  sounds  like  a  fine  sentiment,  and  if  the  herbarium 
were  to  take  the  place  of  out-door  study,  we  would  better 
burn  our  entire  collection. 

Here  are  the  questions,  then  :  How  will  the  herbarium 
help  us  in  our  study  of  flowers  ?  and  Why  is  it  not  better  to 
confine  our  study  to  "living  nature"? 

We  cannot  deny  that  the  herbarium  is  a  matter  of  time 
and  trouble;  but  nothing  worth  having  can  be  acquired 
without  trouble.  There  is  a  lever  which  lightens  all  tasks 
wonderfully.  That  lever  is  enthusiasm.  If  you  are  en- 
thusiastic about  anything,  you  will  be  pretty  sure  to  suc- 
ceed, whether  that  thing  bo  music,  drawing,  or  even  arith- 
metic. This  is  especially  true  of  nature  studies.  The  suc- 
cessful student  of  insects,  birds,  flowers,  shells,  or  rocks 
must  love  his  work  with  a  passionate  ardor,  He  must  al- 
most be  a  man  with  a  hobby. 

Now  perhaps  you  will  say,  •'  I  have  not  this  enthusiasm, 
and  therefore  I  shall  not  be  successful."  Let  me  tell  you 
a  secret.  Nature  herself  inspires  enthusiasm.  You  have 
but  to  work  iu  any  one  of  her  departments,  and  you  will 
learn  to  adore  her.  She  is  like  a  story-book.  The  first 
few  pages,  and  especially  the  preface,  are  somewhat  dry. 
Rut  pretty  soon,  as  the  story  opens  up,  you  can  hardly  leave 
it  for  your  meals  or  your  sleep. 

The  principal  value  of  a  herbarium  is  that  one  has  it 
always  on  hand  for  reference  when  the  living  flower  can- 
not be -studied.  After  the  summer  comes  winter.  My 
young  lady  who  threw  away  her  flowers  forgot  their  names 
during  the  winter.  She  could  not  help  forgetting  some  of 
them,  for  the  botanical  names  of  flowers  are  often  hard  to 
learn,  being  composed  of  Latin  or  Greek  words,  or  of  prop- 
er names  with  Latin  terminations;  and  sometimes  it 
would  seem  that  the  smaller  and  more  unpretentious  the 
plant  the  longer  and  more  jaw-breaking  its  name. 

When  early  spring  conies,  one  can  make  a  point  of  re- 
viewing his  herbarium  and  refreshing  one's  memory,  so  as 
to  begiu  where  he  left  off  last  fall.  Thus  each  season's 
work  is  clear  gain.  The  very  labor  necessary  to  make  a 
herbarium  impresses  the  flower  and  its  peculiarities  vivid- 
ly upon  the  memory.  If  you  handle  and  linger  over  your 
flowers,  they  will  seem  to  you  like  pets  whose  sweet  faces 
you  cannot  forget. 

You  want  your  herbarium,  then,  for  reference,  just  as  you 
need  au  encyclopaedia  in  your  library.  You  want  it  when 
the  snow  is  on  the  ground  and  there  is  no  "  living  nature  " 
iu  the  flower  realm  to  study. 

Every  page  of  the  herbarium  should  look  neat  and  pretty. 
In  order  to  secure  this  result  you  must  first  know  how  to 
press  your  flowers.  A  flower  once  wilted  can  never  be 
made  to  look  nice  on  paper.  It  is  therefore  necessary  to 
keep  fresh  the  specimen  you  wish  to  preserve.  You  might 
carry  a  large  book,  and  shut  your  flowers  in  it  as  soon  as 
plucked.  But  that  would  be  inconvenient.  A  better  way 
is  to  buy  a  botany  box  and  carry  it  with  you  iu  all  your 
walks.  You  never  know  when  you  may  find  some  new 
thing.  The  box  is  of  tin,  opening  on  one  side,  and  it  may 
hang  by  straps  from  your  shoulder.  If  you  lay  a  little  wet 
moss  inside,  and  close  the  door  every  time  you  lay  in  a 
flower,  your  plants  will  keep  fresh  iu  their  cool  dark  nest 
for  three  or  four  days. 

To  press  them  tear  up  newspapers  into  uniform  sizes. 
Newspapers  are  porous,  and  absorb  the  moisture  from  plant 
stems  and  leaves  better  than  brown  wrapping-paper.  In- 
sert several  leaves  of  the  newspaper  between  the  single 
flowers.  When  all  are  ready,  place  the  whole  pile  between 
two  boards,  the  same  size  as  the  papers  (any  carpenter  will 
cut  them  for  yon),  and  lay  the  whole  under  a  heavy  weight, 
like  a  trunk  or  pile  of  large  books.  Once  a  day  look  over 
your  plants,  and  put  those  not  quite  pressed  into  cleau  dry 


papers.  The  papers  already  used,  unless  badly  stained,  can 
be  spread  out,  dried,  and  used  agnin.  The  problem  is  how 
to  dry  the  plant  quickly  and  thoroughly.  The  quicker  it 
is  dried  the  better  it  retains  its  colors.  The  petals  will 
fade,  but  careful  pressing  will  make  them  look  very  well, 
not  at  all  like  hay.  If  the  plant  be  taken  out  of  its  press 
too  soon  its  leaves  will  wrinkle.  Some  delicate  plants  »  ill 
dry  iu  twenty-four  hours'  time,  others  take  three  or  four 
days,  or  even  a  week. 

Have  ready  sheets  of  nice  white  paper.  These  you  can 
get  a  printer  to  cut  for  yon  of  uniform  size.  The  regula- 
tion size  is  17  by  11  inches.  If  the  specimen  be  too  long  for 
the  paper,  bend  the  stem  once  or  twice.  A  botanical  speci- 
men should  include  the  whole  stalk  down  to  the  root,  un- 
less, like  some  of  the  taller  sunflowers,  it  be  quite  too  long 
for  the  page.  Place  only  one,  specimen  on  a  page,  and 
fasten  it  iu  several  places  with  narrow  strips  of  gummed 
paper.  Last  fall  I  had  a  bright  idea.  After  the  election  I 
collected  a  number  of  unused  ballot  pasters.  From  these 
next  summer  I  shall  cut  blank  strips,  already  gummed,  and 
I  shall  moisten  them  with  a  wet  camel's-hair  brush,  and 
use  them  for  my  herbarium.  Large  leaves  will  stay  down 
better  if  a  drop  of  mucilage  be  placed  in  their  centre. 
When  the  stern  is  very  heavy  I  sew  it  with  double  thread 
tied  on  the  under  side,  or  I  cut  two  small  slits  in  my  paper, 
and  slip  the  stem  through.  As  fast  as  sheets  are  prepared, 
leave  them  under  a  large  book  till  the  mucilage  is  dry.  The 
page  is  then  ready  for  labelling.  Write  now  in  the  lower 
right-hand  corner  your  own  name,  the  botanical  and  com- 
mon name  of  the  flower,  where  and  when  found;  or  yon 
can  get  labels  with  your  name  printed  on  them,  which  you 
can  paste  on  the  bottom  of  your  page. 


HERBARIUM  OF  J.  BKOWN. 

Caltha  palustris 

(Marsh-  Mar  I  go  Id). 

IN    MARBU    NKAR   BiintGP.rcMiT,    MAY   3,   1694. 


The  papers  belonging  to  the  same  family  should  now 
be  placed  inside  of  family  covers,  made  of  still  brown  paper, 
and  these  again  should  be  inclosed  in  a  box.  I  use  the 
boxes  iu  which  tailors  send  my  husband's  shirts  and  suits 
of  clothes.  On  the  cover  of  the  box  write  the  families 
which  it  contains.  That  plan  facilitates  finding  any  par- 
ticular specimen.  Certain  families,  as  ferns  and  orchids, 
go  well  together;  mints  and  iigworts  are  allied.  Compo- 
site should  have  a  box  to  themselves,  and  the  species 
should  be  gathered  into  genus  covers. 

The  botany  gives  directions  for  poisoning  plants,  if  you 
are  likely  to  be  troubled  with  insects.  Many  of  my  mounted 
specimens  are  ten  or  twelve  years  old,  yet  I  have  never  had 
any  such  annoyance.  Therefore  I  do  not  poison  my  plants. 
I  always  use  mucilage.  Perhaps  flour  paste  or  starch 
would  afford  food  for  insects. 

It  is  pleasant  to  keep  a  flower  calendar  as  part  of  the 
herbarium.  Procure  a  diary,  and  note  the  day  when  you 
first  find  certain  flowers.  This,  if  kept  several  successive 
years,  will  show  interesting  variations  of  season,  and  of  the 
time  of  the  flowering  of  the  same  plants. 

For  study  of  trees  keep  a  leaf  album.  I  know  of  no 
other  way  to  learn  the  many  species  of  oak  and  maple. 

The  herbarium  is  never  a  finished  book.  Each  year,  as 
you  visit  different  parts  of  the  country,  you  will  add  to  its 
beautiful  pages.  You  may  well  show  it  to  your  friends 
with  pride.  It  is  an  achievement,  a  monument  of  your  in- 
dustry, and  proof  of  your  knowledge.  To  yourself  it  will 
be  a  source  of  never-ending  pleasure.  Here  a  leaf  will 
recall  a  visit  to  a  friend,  a  trip  to  the  mountains,  or  a 
month  at  the  sea-side.  This  flown-  suggests  a  picnic, or  a 
shady  walk,  or  mountain  stroll  with  choice  companions. 
Turn  to  the  herbarium  on  a  day  iu  January,  when  the 
wind  and  snow  are  having  a  merry  dauce  outside,  and  \ou 
will  see  visions  of  sweet  woods,  fresh  fields,  and  blooming 
wild  flowers,  biding  their  time,  but  sure  to  come  again. 


775 


5. 


S.  A.   W.  BALTAZZI. 


8. 

THE    KUXN'IXG    HIGH    JUMP    IX    DETAIL. 

From    instantaneous    photographs   of    Mr.    Bultazzi    jumping. 

776 


7. 


1INTERSCHOEASTIC 


THE  PICTURES  ON  THE  OPPOSITE  PAGE  are  reproductions 
of  instantaneous  photographs  taken  especially  for  this 
Department  of  HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE.  They  clearly 
show  the  exact  position  and  form  of  an  athlete  at  the  va- 
rious stages  of  action  in  the  running  high  jump,  and  a 
careful  study  of  them  will  prove  of  great  usefulness  to  any 
one  desirous  of  perfecting  himself  in  this  particular  branch 
of  out-door  athletics.  The  striking  feature  of  the  series 
is  that  it  proves  that  a  man  practically  steps  over  the  bar 
with  one  stride,  instead  of  flying  over  it  in  a  compact  bunch 
as  he  appears  to  do  wheu  watched  by  the  naked  eye.  But 
before  describing  the  jump  itself,  it  will  be  best  to  give 
certain  general  directions  about  the  necessary  lay-out,  and 
a  few  points  on  preliminary  work. 

IN  THE  FIRST  PLACE,  no  one  should  start  in  to  train  for 
this  event  until  after  he  is  eleven  or  twelve  years  old.  In 
fact,  it  is  safe  to  say  that  no  boy  under  this  age  ought  ever 
to  go  into  any  kind  of  systematic  athletic  work,  for  his  ambi- 
tion is  liable  to  lead  him  to  injurious  over-exertion.  Don't 
do  any  high-jumping  in  the  winter  mouths ;  for  running  on 
a  hard  board  floor  is  not  a  good  thing,  and  yon  are  apt  to 
slip  and  get  injured.  If  you  want  to  take  up  jumping  as  a 
specialty,  spend  the  winter,  or  the  in-door  season,  in  pulling 
weights  so  as  to  strengthen  the  back  and  chest,  and  in  go- 
ing through  leg  motions  to  fortify  the  limbs.  No  one  can 
ever  succeed  as  a  high-jumper  unless  he  has  a  well-devel- 
oped chest  and  back.  As  will  be  seen  later  on,  the  strain 
on  the  dorsal  muscles  is  practically  what  lifts  the  man  over 
the  bar.  This  sounds  very  much  like  lifting  one's  self  up 
by  the  boot  -  straps,  but  it  is  nevertheless  correct.  The 
leg  exercises  are  simple.  There  are  two  kinds.  One  is  to 
lift  yourself  up  on  your  toes.  Start  in  by  doing  it  about 
twenty-five  times  every  day  for  a  week  ;  then  increase  the 
number  until  you  get  up  to  about  three  hundred  times. 
An  expert  high-jumper  can  lift  himself  five  hundred  times 
without  great  fatigue.  The  second  exercise  is  the  "frog 
motion."  This  consists  of  placing  the  heels  near  together 
aud  of  squatting  and  rising.  Do  this  a  few  times  only,  to 
start  with,  and  gradually  bring  yourself  to  the  hundreds. 
Exercise  the  chest,  as  I  have  said  before,  with  weights  and 
dumbbells.  Strengthen  the  back  by  bending  over  with 
the  legs  stiff,  the  arms  thrown  out  in  front  until  the  finger- 
tips touch  the  floor  easily. 

THE  JUMPING  COSTUME  should  consist  of  a  jersey  suit 
rather  than  of  a  linen  blouse  and  trousers,  because  the 
knit  goods  cling  to  the  form  aud  keep  the  muscles  warm. 
The  trousers  should  never  reach  the  knees,  which  have  to 
be  kept  free.  The  feet  are  encased  in  shoes  made  of  kan- 
garoo-skin, laced  in  front  like  running  shoes,  and  are  worn 
without  socks.  The  left  shoe  is  made  several  ounces  hea- 
vier than  the  right,  and  is  about  twice  as  heavy  as  a 
sprinter's  foot-wear.  The  heel  is  made  of  quarter-inch 
sole  leather,  and  has  two  spikes.  Some  men  jump  with 
one  spike  in  the  middle  of  the  heel,  but  this  is  very  bad, 
because  when  the  jumper  alights  his  heel  bone  pounds  on 
the  spike  and  soon  raises  a  stone  bruise.  If  you  have  two 
spikes  fixed  at  the  extremities  of  diagonals  drawn  through 
the  centre  of  the  heel  this  bruising  is  easily  avoided.  There 
are  no  spikes  on  the  heel  of  the  right  shoe,  but  the  heel 
itself  is  made  slightly  thicker.  In  the  toes  of  both  shoes 
there  should  be  six  spikes. 

A  GREAT  MANY  ATHLETES  who  have  gone  in  for  high 
jumping  have  abandoned  the  sport  after  a  few  weeks  of 
training  because  of  sore  heels.  They  should  remember 
that  the  heel  must  be  toughened  as  well  as  the  other  mus- 


cles, but  as  soon  as  it  begins  to  feel  sore,  rest  until  it  is 
in  good  condition  again.  A  good  way  to  avoid  soreness 
of  the  heel  and  ankle  is  to  keep  that  part  of  the  foot  thick- 
ly painted  with  iodine  all  the  time.  Keep  the  ankle  ab- 
solutely black  for  several  months,  until  the  muscles  there 
have  become  so  tough  aud  strong  that  there  is  no  danger 
of  straining  or  bruising.  For  the  leg  muscles,  rubbing 
with  alcohol  is  good,  but  do  not  resort  to  this  too  fre- 
quently. Aud  in  order  to  have  the  leg  muscles  in  the  best 
of  condition,  do  not  indulge  in  the  frog  motion  and  other 
exercises  for  a  week  or  two  previous  to  a  match. 

FOR  PRACTICE  THE  JUMPER  should  have  two  square  posts 
about  two  inches  thick,  made  of  almost  any  kind  of  wood, 
and  bored  with  holes  one  inch  apart  np  to  five  feet  eight 
inches,  aud  half  an  inch  apart  above  that.  The  pegs  should 
be  three  inches  long,  and  the  bar,  made  of  pine,  should  be 
about  twelve  feet  long  and  one  inch  square.  The  posts 
are  placed  eight  feet  apart,  and  it  is  usual  to  hang  a 
handkerchief  over  the  centre  of  the  crossbar,  so  that  it  can 
be  seen  better.  A  jumper  must  alirays  keep  his  eye  on  the 
bar  from  the  time  he  starts  to  run  until  he  lands  safely  on 
the  other  side.  The  runway  should  be  eight  feet  wide  and 
about  forty  feet  long.  It  should  be  made  of  cinders,  well 
rolled,  aud  ought  to  be  kept  dampened  so  as  to  make  it 
springy.  Beyond  the  posts  the  earth  should  be  turned 
over  aud  raked,  so  as  to  make  a  soft  landing-place. 

THERE  is  NO  RULE  about  how  far  off  from  the  bar  a 
jumper  should  start  to  run.  The  nearer  the  better,  because 
less  power  is  then  wasted  on  the  approach.  In  No.  1  the 
jumper  has  just  started.  He  takes  an  easy  gait  at  first, 
with  his  eye  fixed  on  the  bar,  and  he  regulates  his  speed 
and  his  step  so  as  to  come  to  the  "take-off"  with  his  left 
foot.  In  jumping  all  the  work  is  done  with  the  left  foot. 
A  good  way  for  a  beginner  to  determine  how  far  from  the 
bar  to  take-off  is  to  stand  before  it  on  one  foot  aud  lift  the 
other  until  he  can  touch  the  cross-piece  with  his  toes.  He 
takes  -  off  as  far  back  as  he  can  thus  place  one  foot  and 
touch  the  bar  with  the  other.  This  distance  from  the  base 
line  between  the  posts  to  the  take-off  is  usually  equal  to 
the  height  of  the  bar  from  the  ground. 

As  THE  JUMPER  APPROACHES  the  bar  he  runs  as  fast  as 
he  can,  and  in  picture  No.  2  he  reaches  the  take-off  with  his 
left  foot.  His  heel  strikes  first  (as  may  clearly  be  seen 
from  the  heavy  mark  underneath  it),  and  gives  the  power 
for  the  jump.  The  toe  merely  gives  direction  to  the  mo- 
tion imparted  by  the  heel  and  the  big  shin  muscle  which 
connects  with  the  heel.  The  leap  has  now  begun,  aud  with 
the  right  foot  rising  the  jumper  begins  to  sail  over  the  bar. 
His  line  of  travel  is  a  perfect  semicircle,  beginning  at  the 
take-off,  and  ending  in  the  soft  ground  on  the  other  side  at 
exactly  the  same  distance  from  the  base-line  of  the  posts. 
No.  3  shows  him  still  rising  from  the  ground,  his  right  foot 
giving  the  direction  of  the  leap.  The  muscles  of  the  arms 
and  back  are  now  just  coming  into  play  to  raise  the  torso 
and  the  left  leg — and  all  the  time  the  eye  is  firmly  fixed  on 
the  bar.  In  No.  4  the  right  foot  is  just  passing  over  the 
handkerchief,  and  the  arms  and  back  are  seen  straining  with 
the  exertion  of  bringing  up  the  left  leg.  Notice  that  muscle 
of  the  neck.  It  connects  with  the  muscles  of  the  side  aud 
abdomen,  and  these  harden  like  steel  to  force  the  quick  mo- 
tion that  has  to  be  made  to  lift  that  side  of  the  body.  The 
strain  on  this  neck  muscle  and  the  working  of  the  back  aud 
arms  are  even  better  displayed  in  Xo.  ">.  where  the  left  leg  is 
almost  up,  and  is  about  to  clear  the  bar.  Considerable 
practice  is  required  for  this  motion,  because  it  has  to  be 


777 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


done  very  quickly.  The  left  foot  has  to  be  brought  iu  very 
close  to  the  right  thigh,  and  yet  the  sharp  spikes  must  be 
kept  from  tearing  the  flesh.  Note  how  the  eye  is  con- 
stantly on  the  bar. 

IN  THE  NEXT  PICTURE,  No.  8,  the  bar  has  been  cleared, 
the  whole  body  is  over,  and  the  right  leg  has  dropped.  It 
is  now  no  more  used,  except  as  a  balance  to  the  body,  the 
entire  work  of  the  jump,  as  before  stated,  being  done  with 
the  left  leg.  The  jumper's  eye  is  still  fixed  on  the  bar,  and 
not  until  he  is  well  over  it,  as  shown  in  No.  7,  does  he  re- 
.move  his  gaze.  As  he  clears  the  stick  his  back  muscles 
give  a  twist  to  his  flying  form,  and  his  right  arm  thrown 


G.  B.  FEARING'S  FORM  IN  HIGH  JUMPING. 


into  the  air  aids  him  in  turning,  so  that  he  will  fall  facing 
the  bar.  The  left  leg  has  now  passed  the  right,  and  is 
making  ready  to  sustain  the  weight  of  the  body  on  land- 
ing, while  the  right  is  thrust  slightly  backward  to  sustain 
a  proper  equilibrium.  The  strain  on  the  back  and  arms  is 
relaxed.  In  No.  8  he  is  just  about  to  land,  and  the  camera 
has  given  us  a  beautiful  display  of  the  looseness  of  the  arm 
muscles,  showing  the  right  arm  still  in  the  air  and  a.bontto 
drop  as  soon  as  the  feet  strike  the  ground.  The  body  is 
lying  along  the  curve  of  the  semicircle  through  which  the 
jump  has  been  made. 

THE  BAR  IN  ALL  THESE  PICTURES  was  at  5  ft.  8  in.,  and 
each  photograph  necessitated  a  separate  jump.  This  alone 
is  enough  to  show  in  what  excellent  form  the  young  athlete 
worked,  for  a  kinetoscope  could  not  have  caught  his  sepa- 
rate actions  in  one  leap  to  better  effect  than  these  photo- 
graphs have  shown  them  in  eight  different  leaps.  The 
ninth  picture  is  a  portrait  of  the  clever  young  athlete,  who 
is  shown  iu  action  in  all  the  others.  He  is  S.  A.  W.  Bal- 
tazzi,  of  the  Harvard  School  of  this  city,  who  holds  the  in- 
terscholastic  high-jumping  record  not  only  of  the  N.Y.I.S. 
A. A.,  but  of  the  United  States.  At  the  Interscholastics 
last  May  he  cleared  5  ft.  11  in.,  but  since  then  he  has  cov- 
ered 0  ft.  in  practice,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  will  de- 
feat the  Englishman  who  is  coining  over  to  represent  the 
I. iiiidon  Athletic  Club  at  the  international  games  this  fall. 
Baltazzi  is  seventeen  years  old,  and  weighs  135  pounds.  He 
began  jumping  while  at  St.  Paul's  School,  Garden  City,  in 
1891,  and  won  first  in  a  school  competition  with  4  ft.  9  iu. 
At  the  school  games  of  1892  he  took  first,  with  a  jump  of 
5  ft.  $iu.,  and  iu  189:?,  as  a  member  of  the  Harvard  School, 
he  established  the  in-door  scholastic  record  of  5  ft.  3£  in., 


at  the  Berkeley  School  winter  games.  The  following  year, 
at  the  same  games,  he  raised  the  record  to  5  ft.  6|  in.,  and 
subsequently  took  lirst  in  the  Wilson  ami  Kellogg  games 
with  a  jump  of  5  ft.  5  in.  At  the  Interscholastics  of  1894, 
lialtaz/.i  and  Rogers  tied  for  first  place  at  5  ft.  9  in.,  break- 
ing Fearing's  Interscholastic  record  of  5  ft.  8i  in.  In  Sep- 
tember of  that  year  he  won  first  at  Travers  Island,  jumping 
5  ft.  7  in.,  and  later  in  the  winter  he  took  first  in  the  Bar- 
nard games  with  5  ft.  8  in.  Having  taken  first  in  the 
Berkeley,  Poly.  Prep.,  and  Columbia  College  handicap 
games  of  1895,  he  lifted  the  Interscholastic  mark  up  to 
~<  ft.  11  in.  at  the  Berkeley  Oval  in  May.  The  following 
week,  at  the  Inter-city  games,  he  cleared  5  ft.  10|  in.,  and 
took  lirst  at  the  N.Y.A.C.  spring  games  with  the  same  figure. 
Balta/.iii  expects  to  enter  Columbia  College  this  fall;  and 
if  he  does,  there  are  five  points  sure  for  the  New-Yorkers  at 
Mutt  Haven  for  some  years  to  come. 

TIIK  PICTURE  PRINTED  ON  THIS  PAGE  is  a  reproduction  of 
a  photograph  taken  of  G.  B.  Fearing,  the  Harvard  high 
jumper,  in  1892.  Fearing  held  the  record  of  the  N.Y. 
I.S.A.A.  until  Rogers  and  Baltazzi  broke  it  in  1894.  His 
form  was  entirely  different  from  Baltazzi's.  As  he  clears 
the  bar  in  this  picture,  both  his  feet  appear  to  be  curled 
ii]i  under  his  body,  and  his  head  is  thrown  forward  and 
down.  He  seems  to  be  almost  reclining  on  his  side, 
whereas  Baltazzi  makes  the  leap  with  his  body  practically 
perpendicular,  although  he  necessarily  bends  forward  in 
the  motion  which  lifts  the  torso  over  the  stick.  Feariug's 
form  as  displayed  in  this  photograph  does  not  give  the 
same  idea  of  power  and  assurance  as  that  shown  by  Baltaz/.i. 

THE  PROSPECTS  FOR  RECORD-BREAKING  in  the  N.Y.I.S.  A.A. 
next  year  are  not  very  bright,  for  most  of  the  record-break- 
ers are  leaving  school,  lie-sides  Baltazzi,  Tappin.  the  mile 
runner  of  Cutler's  winning  team,  will  go  to  Columbia. 
Yale  will  get  Meehan,  who  is  a  clever  half-miler,  Ayres, 
the  hammer-and-shot  man  of  Condon's,  Powell,  the  bicy- 
cli.st.  and  Ilackett,  the  mile  walker.  The  first  three  in  this 
last  group  hold  United  States  interscholastic  records  in 
their  events.  Princeton's  track  team  will  no  doubt  secure 
three  of  Barnard's  best  athletes,  Syme,  Simpson,  and  Moore, 
whereas  Harvard  will  only  get  one  good  man  from  the 
N.Y.I.S.A.A.,  Irwin-Mart.in.  Cowperthwaitc,  broad  jumper, 
and  Beers,  who  holds  the  high  hurdling  record,  will  also 
leave  school  for  college.  This  will  make  room  for  new 
men.  and  ought  to  be  a.  good  thing  for  the  association. 

A  CORRESPONDENT  SUGGESTS  that  the  schools  of  New 
York — and  I  don't  see  why  it  would  not  be  just  as  good  an 
idea  for  schools  of  other  cities — hold  an  interscholastic 
bicycle  meet  this  fall.  At  first  thought  this  sounds  like  a 
very  good  scheme.  There  are  few  scholars,  comparatively, 
•who  are  strong  enough,  or  who  have  the  inclination  to 
play  football,  and  now  that  use  of  the  bicycle  has  become 
so  universal  these  could  devote  the  fall  season  to  prepar- 
ation for  a  bicycle  contest.  Far  he  it  from  my  intention 
to  suggest  to  even  the  weakest  football-player  that  he  give 
up  the  gridiron  for  the  bicycle;  but  I  have  seen  so  many 
young  men  standing  around  football  fields  watching  the 
game,  with  no  ability  or  desire  to  participate  in  it.  that  I 
weli-iime  the  suggestion  of  making  the  autumn  a  bicycle 
season  too. 

IT  is  VEKY  PROBABLE  that  the  inter-collegiate  association 
will  do  away  with  bicycles  at  the  Mott  Haven  games  next 
spring.  If  they  do,  the  iuterscholastic  associations  will  no 
doubt  follow  suit,  and  then  the  wheelmen  will  find  them- 
selves, to  a  certain  extent,  out  of  it,  if  they  have  not  already 
prepared  for  separate  contests.  It  is  right  that  bir\.  le 
events  should  be  excluded  from  track  and  I'n-ld  meetings, 
because  a  running  track  is  not  the  proper  place  for  a  bicycle 
race.  Bicycle  races,  however,  ought  not  to  be  given  up  en- 
tirely or  left  to  professionals,  because  such  racing  is  pro- 
ductive of  good  sport.  The  best  course  to  pursue  under 
the  circumstances,  then,  is  to  have  a  meet  especially  for 
bicyclists.  I  am  sure  there  are  enough  wheelmen  iu  the 
schools  to  make  it  worth  while,  and  the  fall  season  with 


HAEPEE'S   ROUND   TABLE 


cold  days  and  bracing  air  is  .just  the  time 
for  sucli  sport. 

IF  A  BICYCLE  FIELD  DAY  cannot  be  gotten 
up  this  fall,  there  is  no  reason  why  there 
should  not  be  an  Intel-scholastic  road  race. 
The  executive  committee  of  the  N.Y.I.S.A.A. 
could  easily  arrange  such  a  contest,  and 
olt'cr  a  pennant  to  the  winning  school.  Let 
each  school  of  the  association  enter  two 
riders,  and  let  the  managers  of  the  race 
adopt  a  course.  This  can  be  easily  done  by 
looking  over  the  back  numbers  of  HARPER'S 
ROUND  TABLE,  and  choosing  :t  good  road 
from  one  of  the  many  bicycle  maps  of  the 
vicinity  of  New  York  that  have  recently 
been  printed.  This  would  be  a  novelty  in 
the  way  of  school  contests,  in  this  section 
at  least,  although  it  is  quite  a  common 
event  with  the  California  school  associ- 
ations. THE  GRADUATE. 


This  Department  is  <  «i,,Un  it-.l  iu  tli*  interest  of  stamp  MM.I  ,nm 
collectors,  and  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to  answer  any  question  on 
these  subjecta  so  far  as  possible.  Correspondents  should  address  Editor 
Stamp  Department. 

THIRTY  years  ago  there  were  probably 
fifty  coin-collectors  where  there  is  one 
to-day.  As  a  consequence  coins  have  now 
little  value  unless  they  are,  first,  coins  of 
great  rarity;  or,  second,  scarce  coins  in  ab- 
solutely uncirculated  condition,  or  "mint 
state." 

Dealers  in  coins  whom  I  have  questioned 
say  that  there  is  very  little  demand,  and 
that  in  many  instances  they  sell  coins  now 
at  a  lower  price  than  they  would  have  paid 
for  them  a  generation  ago.  Further,  if 
coins  could  be  sold  as  quickly  as  stamps, 
they  could  afford  to  sell  them  at  an  even 
lower  price.  As  it  is,  the  interest  on  the 
capital  locked  up  in  stock  and  the  cost  of 
doing  business  are  so  large,  that  they  make 
very  little  profit.  The  common  obsolete 
coins  (except  U.  S.)  are  bought  by  the  deal- 
ers at  the  price  of  old  metal.  There  is  no 
money  iu  collecting  coin,  but  lots  of  fun. 

Jos.  GOT.IISMITH.— Tlie  green  5c.  Confederate  unused 
is  sold  by  dealers  at  50c.  The  value  of  common  stumps 
by  the  million  depends  on  the  assortment.  I£  there 
is  a  fair  quantity  of  1,  2,  3,  4. 5,  6,  8,  10,  and  15c.,etc., 
they  bring  a  good  price.  For  Ic.  and  2c  only  there  is 
little  demand.  Dealers'  addresses  are  not  given  in  tin's 
column. 

HKT.RN  MAOKAY. — The  used  3d.  Canada  unperforated 
is  quoted  in  catalogues  at  20c.  on  wove  paper,  $1  on 
laid  paper,  $1  50  on  ribbed  paper. 

L.  M.  I. — The  current  bine  special-delivery  is  printed 
from  the  same  dies  as  the  previous  blue,  but  the  lines 
have  been  deepened  and  two  cross  lines  added  under 
the  words  TEN  and  CENTS. 

WII.I.IK  K. — No  premium  on  the  coins.  The  stamp 
is  the  3c.  blue  1869  U.  S. 

G.  TAKT.F.TON. — U.  S.  fractional  currency  has  no  value 
beyond  face  unless  it  is  absolutely  uncirculated. 
There  ought  to  be  a  demand  for  these  interesling  war 
relics,  but  practically  there  is  none.  Dealers  sell  them 
at  a  small  advance  over  face. 

D.  R.  O'Sui.T.iVAN. — There  is  no  premium  on  the 
coins  mentioned.  Rare  coins  if  worn  by  use  have  very 
little  value.  Hiirh  prices  are  paid  for  rare  coins  if  in 
"  mint  state,"  that  is  the  condition  w'aen  the  coins  are 
new  and  uncirculated. 


A.E.BAKKON,  Tarrytown,  N.  Y.,  wants  to  correspond 
and  trade  with  stamp-collectors.  He  has  the  begin- 
ning of  a  good  collection. 

H.  B.  TUAW — The  Bloods  Penny  Post  is  catalogued 
at  50c.  There  are  three  varieties  of  the  Bloods  De- 
spatch worth  from  15c.  to  $4  each.  The  Adams  Ex- 
press is  not  a  stamp.  It  is  probably  a  trade-mark. 

R.CRAIG. — State  Revenues,  as  a  rule,  are  collected 
only  in  the  State  using  them.  General  collectors  do 
not  buy  them,  and  consequently  they  are  not  cata- 
logued. 

A.  LOWKOWSKY.—  The  letter-sheets  will  no  longer  be 
made.  There  are  eight  main  varieties— series  1, 2, 3, 4, 
5, 6, 7,  and  the  first  issue  without  series  number.  They 
are  not  classed  as  stamps,  but  as  envelopes,  and  envel- 
opes are  not  collected  as  generally  as  adhesive  stamps. 
I  believe  you  can  buy  the  $3,  f4,  and  $5  Columbian 
stamps  at  face  from  the  Washington,  B.C.,  Post-office. 

R.  G.  HUGHES.—  It  is  a  Colombian  revenue  stamp. 
These  stamps  are  not  generally  collected  except  in 
Colombia,  and  hence  no  value  can  be  given.  Your 
sketch  is  admirably  well  done. 

R.  MOODY.— The  stamp  is  the  3c.  1869  U.  S.,and  is 
sold  by  dealers  at  2c.  The  coin  has  no  premium. 

LEWIS  E.  B. — If  the  coins  are  in  mint  condition  the 
dealers  will  probably  buy  at  a  premium.  If  not  un- 
circulated they  are  worth  face  only. 

L.  KKNTON.  —The  coin  and  bank  token  do  not  com- 
mand a  premium. 

P.  B.  EVANS.— The  lOc.  U.  S.  you  mention  is  the  1861 
issue  if  not  grilled.  If  grilled  it  is  the  1S6S  issue.  Your 
questions  as  to  values  have  been  answered  several 
times  in  this  column.  You  can  get  a  late  catalogue  of 
any  dealer  at  a  small  price. 

M.  N. — If  in  mint  condition  the  dealers  will  buy, 
otherwise  they  are  worth  face  only. 

ROUBKT  CEAIO.— Not  worth  more  than  face. 

G.  L.  MUKPIIY.— Not  generally  collected  in  the  U.  S., 
hence  no  value  can  be  quoted. 

A.  MITTEI..—  The  coin  is  probably  the  William  III. 
of  England.  The  stamp  is  the  current  He.  postage- 
due. 

A.  BKB. — The  unused  U.  S.  and  British  North  Ameri- 
can Colonies  stamps  issued  before  1865  are  all  ad- 
vancing in  price  rapidly.  The  used  stamps  are  also 
advancing,  but  slowly. 

J.  WOLFKRT. — If  the  stamps  you  mention  are  in  good 
condition  I  would  advise  you  to  sell  them  by  auction. 
Rarities  bring  a  higher  price  when  all  the  big  collectors 
compete  for  them.  Common  stamps,  on  the  other 
hand,  do  not  bring  catalogue  price  at  auction. 

W.  J.  HOLBKOK. — The  Mobile  5c.  blue  is  quoted  at 
$7  50.  If  on  the  envelope  do  not  take  it  off. 

J.  ADAMS. — The  present  $1  black  U.  S.,  it  is  said, 
will  soon  be  printed  in  another  color.  The  Sc,  with 
triangular  ornaments  is  on  sale  at  many  officrs.  No 
copies  have  yet  been  seen  with  the  white-framed  tri- 
angular ornaments. 

FEANK  T.— Almost  any  dealer  can  supply  you  with 
a  complete  set  of  the  U.  S.  stamps  (cancelled)  show- 
ing die  varieties  between  1870-lSSi  It  consists  of  the 
Ic.,  3c.,  6c. ,  7c.,  10c.,  and  12c.,  and,  counting  shades, 
numbers  about  twenty  stamps.  Prices  vary. 


M.  C.  WRIOUT.— The  best  way  is  to  go  to  responsible 
stamp-dealers,  look  over  tlu-ir  stock,  and  taUe  no  dam- 
aged stamps  at  any  price,  however  low. 

ROUND  TABLE.—  I  do  not  know  to  what  "  ISM  penny" 
you  refer.  The  dimes  have  no  premium. 

S.  T.  Dot)T>.— Yes.  The  present  issue  of  U.  S.  will 
probably  all  be  printed  on  water-marked  paper. 

PHILATDS. 


War-time  Memories. 

My  grandmamma  is  an  old  lady,  and  lived  in  At- 
lanta, Ga  ,at  the  time  Sherman  and  his  soldiers,  on 
their  famous  march  to  the  sea,  took  possession 
of  that  city.  She  buried  her  plate  and  valuables 
under  the  house.  Her  husband  was  away  in  the 
service  of  the  Confederate  Army,  and  she  was  left 
alone  with  two  or  three  little  children. 

One  night  two  young  officers  came  and  knocked 
on  the  door,  demanding  admittance,  which  she  re- 
fused. They  grew  angry  and  made  some  terrible 
threats.  Grandmamma  had  an  army  musket  in  the 
house.  She  told  them  if  they  didn't  desist  she 
would  fire  through  the  door  at  them.  After  some 
further  parley  they  left.  But  they  returned  the 
next  morning  and  told  her  she  was  the  spunkiest 
little  woman  they  ever  saw. 

One  day  grandmamma  received  some  fresh  >ait- 
sage  from  the  country.  Pivsentlyin  entered  a  man 
wearing  the  blue.  He  took  those  sausage  and 
stuffed  his  pockets  full.  On  the  table  was  a  large 
sugar-bowl,  filled.  He  picked  it  up  and  carried  it 
away,  dipping  the  raw  sausage  in  the  sugar  and 
eating  it. 

Finally,  grandmamma  obtained  guards  to  protect 
the  house.  One  cold  night  one  of  the  guards  was 
dozing  in  front  of  the  fire  when  in  stalked  a  huge 
Indian.  Planting  himself  iu  front  of  the  fire,  he 
began  to  act  and  talk  in  a  shocking  way.  The 
giiiird  promptly  ejected  him. 

Such  were  a  few  of  the  many  experiences  of  my 
grandmother  during  the  "times  that  tried  men's 
souls," 

Correspondents  wanted. 

UMITILLA,  FLA.  HAKBT  R.   WHITCOMB. 


On  the  La  Viga  Canal. 

I  will  tell  you  about  our  big  canal.  La  Viga.  At 
the  park  called  the  "  Zocalo  "  one  takes  the  tram. 
After  going  through  a  good  many  dirty  streets  the 
tram  lands  you  at  the  "  Embarcadero,"  a  clean 
spot,  where  you  get  into  flat-boats  that  look  like 
barges.  The  first  town  you  come  to  is  called 
Jamaica.  Here  there  are  lots  of  canoes  filled  with 
vegetables,  which  are  very  cheap  indeed.  Along 
the  route  you  usually  meet  women  in  catioes  sell- 
ing tamales.  These  are  made  of  corn  boiled, 
crushed,  some  "  chile  "  added,  and  then  the  whole 
put  into  cornhusks  They  are  good  eating.  The 
next  t"\\ii  V"ti  come  to  is  Santa  Anita,  where  you 
get  off,  if  you  wish,  eat  some  tamales,  and  drink 
some  pulque.  Leaving  Santa  Anita,  you  reach,  a 
little  way  out,  what  used  to  be  floating  gardens — 
now  delightful  places  for  picnics. 

CITY  OF  MKXICO.  R.  L.  MILLER,  JuN. 


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|/       -^      \          O          0         O          O          O         O 

If  BICYCLING 

^J^*^       O          O         O         O          O         O         O 


TPHE  map  this  week  shows  the  macadam- 
_L  ized  and  asphalted  streets  in  Philadel- 
phia  and  its  vicinity;  and  for  all  bicycle- 
riders  who  live  near  the  Quaker  City,  or 
who  think  of  going  there,  this  map  \vill 
prove  of  great  value.  It  will  be  very 
•easily  seen  that  Philadelphia  is  eminently 
adapted  to  bicycling.  In  the  first  place, 
Broad  Street  runs  from  League  Island  en- 
tirely through  the  city,  and  out  to  the  Wil- 
low Grove  turnpike  on  the  north.  To  get 
in  and  out  of  Philadelphia  either  to  the 
i  south  or  the  north,  therefore,  one  needs 
but  to  take  the  shortest  route  to  Broad 
Street,  which  is  kept  in  admirable  condi- 
tion. Furthermore,  one  can  get  with  the 
utmost  ease  to  the  river — i.  e.,  the  Delaware 
— by  turning  from  Broad  Street  either  down 
Chestnut,  Walnut,  Locust,  Spruce,  or  Pine. 
The  Market  Street  ferry  is  perhaps  best 
reached  by  taking  Chestnut  Street,  and  then 
turning  a  block  north  just  before  reaching 
the  river. 

In  making  this  map  it  has  been  found  ad- 
visable, for  the  better  clearness  of  the  re- 
production, to  omit  a  good  many  unimpor- 
tant streets  in  the  heart  of  the  city.  Every 
I  asphalted  or  macadamized  street  in  Phila- 
delphia is  given,  but  in  many  cases  other 
streets  are  omitted,  or  every  alternate  street 
is  given.  The  wheelman  who  studies  the  map 
I  may  very  likely  count  a  certain  number  of 
blocks  on  the  map  to  the  place  where  he 
wishes  to  go,  and  iu  that  case  he  would  lie 
somewhat  mystified  in  making  this  map 
agree  with  his  count.  Names  are  given  in 
I  the  case  of  macadam  or  asphalt  streets,  and 
you  have  only  to  watch  for  those  names  on 
the  signs  to  find  any  place  in  the  city  and 
to  keep  the  situation  before  your  eyes. 

Within    the   next  few  weeks  we  intend 
to  publish  certain  of  the  best  trips  in  the 
vicinity  of  Philadelphia,  and  it  will  be  im- 
portant to  study   this   map,  in   connection 
•with  those,  to  discover  the  best  method  of 
getting  out  of  the  city  in  different  direc- 
tions.    For  example,  to  get  out  to   Fair- 
mount  Park  from  the  public  buildings,  run 
north  on  Broad  Street  from  the  buildings 
'  to  Spring  Garden  Street,  thence  turning  left, 
I  proceed  to  or  across  the  river — the  Schuyl- 
kill.     In  either  case,  turn  to  the  right  im- 
!  mediately  before  or  after  crossing,  and  the 
run  is  direct  to  the  park.     By  not  crossing, 
and   following   the   river    up    through    the 
i  park,  you   will   come   to   the    Wissahickon 
I  road.     By   crossing,  and  running  out  Bel- 
[  mont   Avenue,   you    get    into    Montgomery 
j  County,  and  so  out  of  the  city.     German- 
town  may  be  reached  by  the  Wissahickon 

NOTE.— Map  of  New  York  city  acphalted  streets  in 
No.  8U9.  Map  of  mnte  from  New  York  to  Tarrytown 
in  No.  810  NV\v  York  to  Stamford,  Connecticut,  in 
No.  Sll.  New  York  to  Staten  Island  in  No.  812.  New 

|  Jersey    from    Hobokeu    to   Pine   Brook    in    No.  813. 

i  Brooklyn  in  No.  si 4.  Brooklyn  to  Babylon  in  No. 
815.  Brooklyn  to  Northport  in  No.  816.  Tarrytown 
to  Pou"hkeepsie  in  No.  SIT.  Poughkeepsie  to  Hud- 
son in  No.  SIS.  Hudson  to  Albany  in  No.  819.  Tot- 
tenville  to  Trenton  in  820.  Treuton  to  Philadelphia  in 
821. 


road  or  by  keeping  straight  to  the  north- 
ward on  Broad  Street  until  yon  reach  Tioga 
Street.  Turning  left  into  th:;;,  you  soon  run 
into  the  Chestnut  Hill  road,  and  can  keep 
to  this  until  entering  Germantown  at  School 
Lane.  All  through  Germantown,  and  out  to 
the  north  and  westward  there  are  beautiful 
roads  of  macadam  that  it  is  a  pleasure  to 
ride  over. 

TURNING  IN  THE  OTHEIJ  direction,  the 
rider,  by  bearing  to  the  right  into  Rising 
Sun  Lane  from  Broad  Street,  will  have  a 
clear  course  out  of  Philadelphia  to  the 
northeastward.  By  turning  right  into  Le- 
high  Avenue,  and  continuing  over  Belgian 
block  pavement  to  Kensington  Avenue,  he 
will  run  into  Frankford,  which  is  the  way 
he  has  come  from  New  York.  The  roads 
out  of  Cauidem  on  the  other  side  of  the  Del- 
aware are  clearly  marked.  Crossing  the 
Market  Street  ferry,  yon  go  south  by  Broad- 
way or  north  by  Pea  Shore  road,  and  by 
studying  the  map  the  rider  will  see  where 
are  the  best  roads  for  reaching  Essiugton, 
Derby,  Lansdowu,  and  Haverford  on  the 
southwest. 


SPEED. 

ONE  who  has  made  a  study  of  the  suh- 
ject  states  that  the  average  rates  of 
speed  attained  by  certain  travelling  things, 
are  as  follows:  A  man  walks  three  miles 
an  hour ;  a  horse  trots  seven  ;  steamboats 
run  eighteen ;  sailing  vessels  make  ten ; 
slow  rivers  flow  four;  rapid  rivers  flow 
seven  ;  storms  move  thirty-six  ;  hurricanes, 
eighty  ;  a  rifle  ball,  one  thousand  miles  a 
minute;  sound,  eleven  hundred  and  forty- 
three;  light,  ouo  hundred  aud  ninety  thou- 
sand; electricity,  two  hundred  aud  eighty 
thousand. 


A  GOOD  CHILD 

is  usually  healthy,  and  both  conditions  are  developed 
by  use  of  proper  food.  The  Gail  Borden  Eagle  Brand 
Condensed  Milk  is  the  best  infant's  food  ;  so  easily 
prepared  that  improper  feeding  IB  inexcusable  and  un- 
necessary. — [A  tlv.  ] 


.A.D  VKRTISB:;  rviKNTS. 


Go 


SPECIAL. 

Manufacturer's  Sample  Pieces 

Fine  Swiss,  Nainsook,  and 
Cambric 

EMBROIDERIES 

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<J 

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Waller  Baker  i  Co.  Limited 

The  Largest  Manufacturer!  of 

PURE,  HIGH  GRADE 

.COCOAS  and  CHOCOLATES 

On  this  Continent,  have  received 

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Industrial  and  Food 
,,.»     EXPOSITIONS 
*  \  IN  EUROPE  AND  AMERICA. 

C  *i  u  t  ion  '. 


of  the  labels  and  wrappers  on  our 
roods,  consumer!  should  make  sure 
•hat  our  place  of  manufacture 
namely,  Dorchester,  JUa». 
>  printed  on  each  package. 


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WALTER  BAKER  I  CO.  LTD.    DORCHESTER,    MASS. 

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QUALITY 

always  maintained. 
Far  more  Columbia 
bicycles  than  ever 
this  year.  Far  more 
care  that  no  imper- 
fect Coltrmbias  go 
out. 


$IOO  for  a  Columbia 
means  $2OO  of  pleas- 
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A  Good  Natural  History  Morsel. 

Vacation  and  moth-time  come  baud  in  hand  the 
first  week  in  July.  The  boys  of  the  neighborhood 
corae  yelling  from  school  to  eat  supper  and  go  to 
bed  to  be  up  at  six  o'clock.  At  six  o'clock  around 
comes  a  man  with  a  leather  pouch  filled  with  car- 
bon  sticks.  One  bv  one  the  boys,  some  on  bicycles, 
some  on  foot,  begin  to  follow  him.  Let  us  suppose 
we  have  joined  the  piocession.  \Ve  come  to  an 
electric  light.  As  the  light  is  let  down  the  boys 
begin  to  jump  up  and  down,  yell,  push,  etc.,  to  get 
first  pick. 

The  man  takes  a  fine  orush  and  quickly  cleans 
the  globe.  As  the  insects  tall  to  the  ground  there 
is  a  general  scramble.  We  are  lucky  enough  to 
get  a  fine  specimen  of  a  Luna,  and  start  for  home 
to  save  us  from  getting  mobbed.  One  of  the  most 
common  of  f.he  large  moths  found  in  the  globes  is 
the  Luna  (Attacus  tuna).  The  spread  of  the  wings 
is  from  three  to  four  inches.  The  general  color  is 
a  beautiful  tint  of  green.  The  edges  of  tun  lore 
wings  are  brown,  the  streal;  crossing  the  body. 
There  are  four  eye  spots,  one  on  each  wing.  A 
white  furry  body  and  light  golden  antennas  com- 
plete the  colors  of  this  beautiful,  delicate  moth. 

Another  of  the  beautiful  moths  is  the  Cecropia 
(Atftirus  cecropid).  The  general  color  is  a  beautiful 
brown,  and  the  usual  eye  spots  are  prevalent.  The 
Io  (tiad/rnia  lo)  is  a  rival  of  the  Luna  in  beauty.  It 
is  of  a  deep  yellow  with  purplish-red  markings  and 
the  usual  eye  spots.  The  Attacus  Prometheus  and 
Polyphemous  moths  are  occasionally  found  in  the 
globe.  The  most  common  victims  are  the  Sphinx 
moths  who  have  a  very  long  name,  Macrnscla 
guinyuemaculata. 

SFBINGFIKLD,  MASS.        ALBERT  W.  ATTVATER,  R.T  K. 


Facts  About  Alaskan  Indians 

Some  time  since.  Sir  Knight  James  F.  Rudgers, 
of  Tiffin,  Ohio,  wrote  us:  "A  man  gave  an  illus- 
trated lecture  on  Alaska  at  our  school-house.  He 
said, '  That  when  a  girl  arrives  at  the  age  of  four- 
teen she  is  taken  to  the  mountains  and  confined 
in  a  house  for  one  year ;  when  a  girl  arrives  at  the 
age  of  eighteen  her  parents  put  a  wooden  button 
in  her  lower  lip  ;  that  the  people  worship  the  white 
cn>w.1  Are  these  statements  true?" 

In  reply,  Mr.  O.T.  Mason,  Curator  of  the  Depart- 
ment of  Ethnology  in  the  National  Museum,  Wash- 
ington, very  kindly  says:  "  I  take  special  pleasure 
in  answering  the  inquiries  of  James  F.  Rodgers,  of 
Tiffin,  Ohio.  He  may  have  misunderstood  the  lect- 
urer somewhat,  and,  therefore,  without  character- 
izing it,  say.  first,  that  among  all  savage  tribes  in 
the  world  there  is  a  custom  of  separating  young 
women  when  they  come  to  be  of  marriageable  age. 
These  customs  differ  from  tribe  to  tribe,  and  the 
length  of  time  of  their  separation  varies.  There 
are  no  high  mountains  in  Alaska,  and  one  year 
seems  to  be  rather  a  long  period,  yet  the  general 
fact  remains  ;  secondly,  a  button  of  wood,  or  ivory, 
or  stone,  called  a  labret,  is  placed  in  the  lower  lip 
of  girls,  in  some  tribes  of  boys,  in  other  of  both. 
Among  the  Eskimo  and  the  Indians  of  Alaska,  as 
the  child  grows  older  and  the  orifice  becomes  en- 
larged, a  stone  or  block  of  wood  of  greater  and 
greater  size  is  inserted,  until  I  have  seen  a  block  at 
least  2X  inches  in  diameter  taken  from  the  lip  of 
an  old  woman.  The  Botocudos  of  South  America, 
on  the  Amazon,  are  especially  curious  in  this  re- 
gard, for  they  not  only  insert  enormous  blocks  in 
their  lips,  but  also  in  the  lobe  of  the  ear,  until  it 
falls  upon  the  shoulder;  thirdly. as  to  the  worship 
of  the  Alaskan  natives,  it  should  be  said  that  there 
are  two  kinds  of  natives  in  Alaska — Eskimo  and 
Indians.  The  Eskimo  have  one  sort  of  primitive 
religion,  the  Indians  quite  another  sort.  It  d<»es 
not  convey  exactly  the  right  idea  to  us  that  the 
natives  worship  anything,  certainly  it  is  very  far 
from  the  truth  to  say  that  anybody  in  Alaska  wor- 
ships the  white  crow. 

"The  Indians  of  Alaska,  like  the  other  Indians  of 
America,  are  divided  up  in  their  tribal  relations 
into  bands  or  clans  called  'Totems, 'and  these  are 
generally  named  after  some  prominent  animal  of 
the  region.  Gn-ar.  ivsp^ <_-r  U  puid  to  rlu-sp  animals, 
and  frequently  the  dan  refrains  from  eating  the 
whole  or  a  portion  of  the  totemiu  animal.  It  is  a 
very  interesting  study.  I  cannot  find  out  Th;it  ih«- 
Eskimos  have  any  definite  names  for  the  objects  of 


which  thej  stand  in  awe.  They  have  among  them 
a  class  of  men  called  '  Sbammans,1  who  believe 
in  spirits  and  ^ractise  certain  rules  for  the  influ- 
encing and  controlling  these  spirits.  The  same 
worship  is  common  all  over  Siberia  and  northern 
Europe.  None  of  these  people  have  an  organized 
form  of  worship.  Such  a  thing  would  be  impossi- 
ble iu  a  country  so  forlorn  and  cold." 


©    ikiafts.   o 

No.  90.— BEN    BOLT.    (A  FEW  VERSION.) 

THIRTY  PnopEn  NAMES  CONCEALED. 
O  don't  you  remember  old  Sally,  Ben  Bolt, 

Old  Sally  whose  hair  was  so  red. 
Her  matutinal  cry  of  "Buy  any  shad?" 

Racked  our  ears  till  we  wished  we  were  dead. 
In  a  small  back  yard  off  the  alley,  Ben  Bolt, 

The  miserly  fish-wife  of  yore 
Sits  nursing  her  hord,  while  she  counts  once  again 

Tbe  same  sheckles  she  counted  before. 
O  don't  you  remember  the  streamlet,  Ben  Bolt, 

Where  the  boys  that  played  hookey  from  school 
Sat  snug  on  the  banks  eating  taffy  and  pie, 

Or  bathed  in  the  clear  crystal  pool. 
But  next  day,  perhaps,  you  remember,  Ben  Bolt, 

We  would  fain  for  a  bed  negotiate, 
Our  respective  papas  had  the  evening  before 

Plied  the  rod  at  so  lively  a  rate. 
O  don't  you  remember  our  teacher,  Ben  Bolt, 

The  man  so  averse  to  all  tun? 
No  ham  bone  or  sparerib  sent  up  to  our  rooms 

But  he  sniffed  it  and  took  it  away. 
Near  the  church  rouud  the  coruer  they've  laid 
him  at  last. 

Where  the  willows  'n  sympathy  wave, 
And  the  mocking-bird,  chorister  meet  for  a  Czar, 

Gently  warbles  a  dirge  o'er  his  grave. 

No.  91. — PECULIAR  WORD  SQtrARC. 
1    10    11    2 

4  *     *     3 

5  *     *     6 
8     9    12    7 

1  to  2  is  exalted  reputation. 

3  to   4  is  one  of  tbe  surfaces  of  a  solid. 

5  to   6  is  a  strain  sung  by  a  single  voice. 

7  to    8  is  to  repose  or  recline  from  labor. 

1  to   8  is  a  snug  abode. 

9  to  10  is  a  summer  drink  extensively  used. 
11  to  13  is  equivalent  to  330  rods. 

1  to   2  is  a  well-known  and  beautiful  flower. 
LYONS.  M.  BEEJIAN  STOUT. 


Answers  to  Kinks. 

No.  89. 

1.  "Elm."— Holmes. 
S.  "Chestnut."— Holmes. 

3.  "  Norway  pines  ;  larches." — Phebe  Cary. 

4.  "Chestnuts." — Holmes. 

5.  "Spice-trees." — Holmes. 

6.  "  Pine-tree."* — Whittier. 

7.  "Pines." — Paul  Hamilton  Hayne. 

8.  "Piue-trees;  oaks."— J.  T.  Trowbridge. 

9.  "Willow."— Holmes. 

10.  "Pine;  elm."— Holmes. 

11.  "Hemlock." — Holmes. 

12.  "  Hemlock.  -  tree ;  hemlock -tree.  "—Longfel- 
low. 

* 

Rabbits  and  Water 

Victor  Gage  wanted  to  know  the  experience  of 
others  who  have  kept  rabbits.  I  have  kept  them 
for  the  last  five  years.  I  find  that  they  will  not 
drink  water  if  you  feed  them  on  clover,  grass,  cab- 
bage, lettuce,  turnip  tops,  and  other  green  plants. 
There  is  always  a  little  dew  on  this  food.  If  there 
is  much  dew,  they  will  get  enough  water  to  last 
them  all  day,  and  often  for  three  or  four  days.  On 
the  other  hand,  if  you  feed  them  on  dry  food,  such 
as  hay,  oats,  corn,  stale  bread,  and  other  dry  things, 
they  will  generally  drink  water  about  two  or  three 
times  a  week,  and  sometimes  every  day. 

I  keep  my  rabbits  in  a  house  somewhat  like  the 
one  Mr.  Chase  illustrated  in  the  Round  Table  some 
weeks  ago.  \Vhpii  it  rains  and  the  rabbits  are 
thirsty,  they  will  lick  the  drops  of  rain  as  they  run 
down  the  wire  netting.  I  think  that  if  Mr.  Gage 

782 


feeds  his  rabbits  on  the  dry  food  mentioned  for 
lour  or  five  days  and  then  give  them  water,  he  will 
be  convinced  that  rabbits  do  drink. 
CONCOKD,  N.  H.  LION  GARDINER. 


Questions  anfc  answers. 

Vincent  V.  M.  Beede,  East  Orange,  N.  J.,  asks 
some  members  to  describe  some  less  common 
games  of  dominoes,  and  tell  the  origin  of  tbe  game 
croquet.  Let's  have  them  iu  tbe  form  of  morsels 
lor  printing.  L.  V.  Riddle,  13  Roanoke  Avenue, 
Jamaica  Plain,  Boston,  Mass.,  is  interested  iu  bot- 
any, and  wants  to  hear  from  Albert  W.  Atwater 
aiid  all  young  naturalists  and  botanists.  Ralph 
Cain,  1041  Santa  Fe  Street,  Atchison,  Kan.,  thinks 
it  would  be  a  capital  idea  to  form  an  electri- 
cian Chapter  about  tbe  Table,  and  would  like  to 
have  other  members  join  him.  He  hopes  to  be- 
come an  electrical  engineer — an  excellent  direction 
for  one's  ambition  just  now,  we  think,  for  electric- 
ity is  to  be  the  motive  power  of  tbe  future  far 
more  than  it  is  now.  Knights  of  to-day  who  reach 
their  threescore  and  ten  iu  due  time  will  see  steam 
supplanted  by  it  on  our  railways.  Sir  Kalph  will 
find  Callaud  cells,  duplicated  for  strength,  the  bat- 
tery most  used  for  sustained  power.  The  arc 
light  is  the  result  of  frictional  not  chemical  elec- 
tricity. 

W.  D.  S. :  What  Is  the  simplest  and  cheapest 
foim  of  electric  battery  depends  upon  tbe  use  for 
which  the  battery  is  needed.  Electricians  use  the 
blue-stone  for  telegraph  or  closed-circuit  work  ; 
sal-ammoniac  or  Leclanche  and  other  open-circuit 
uatteries  for  electric  bells  and  burglar-alarms; 
acid  batteries,  such  as  Grenet,  Bunseu,  and  others, 
for  electro-plating,  and  dry  batteries  for  medical 
use.  The  cost  is  from  SI  50  to  $5  per  cell.  Books 
on  electricity  are  divided  into  subjects.  For  in- 
stance, Ayrton's  Practical  Electricity  is  a  series  of 
lectures  lor  students,  $2  50,  while  Muver's  work, 
at  $3  50,  treats  wholly  of  telegraphy.  Ask  J.  H. 
Bunnell  &  Co.,  76  Cortlandt  Street,  N.  Y.,  for  their 
catalogue,  which  they  send  free  if  you  mention 
the  Round  Table.  Mary  Newell  Eatou,  197  South 
Lafayette  Street,  Grand  Rapids,  Mich.,  wauts  in- 
door games  for  persons  of  sixteen  to  twenty.  She 
also  wants  to  bear  from  any  member  who  has  vis- 
ited or  who  now  lives  in  Italy  or  China.  She  may 
send  us  the  morsel  she  mentions. 


Joseph  H.  Duraut  hopes  we  will  publish  a  story 
every  other  week  that  young  artists  may  illus- 
trate. We  could  hardly  find  space  for  one  so 
often,  but  we  intend  to  offer  some  prizes  for  illus- 
trations. Conditions  will  be  announced  soon.  Sir 
Joseph  must  learn  to  use  India  ink  or  water-colors 
(black  only).  Pencil  cannot  be  reproduced  at  all, 
and  crayon  but  poorly.  John  H.  Campbell,  Jun., 
413  School  Lane,  Germantowu,  Philadelphia.  Pa., 
wants  to  receive  sample  copies  of  amateur  papers, 
to  join  corresponding  clubs,  and  to  hear  from  mem* 
bers  iuGermautowu  with  a  view  of  forming  a  local 
Chapter. 

Smith  Phillips  sends  us  some  odd  epitaphs  from 
tombstones  iu  a  cemetery  at  Brownsville.  Pa. 
Such  oddities  are  in  many  similar  yards.  It  is  in 
this  cemetery,  by  -  the- way,  that  tbe  parents  of 
James  G.  Blaine  are  interred.  Speaking  of  ceme- 
teries, can  any  one  tell  us  why  we  use  single  slabs 
set  up  at  tbe  head  of  the  grave,  while  in  England 
and  France,  countries  from  which  we  borrowed 
most  of  our  customs,  one  sees  quite  different  marks 
of  graves?  Where  did  we  get  our  idea,?  Who  cau 
tell  tbe  Table? 

Ronald  Cbipchase  thinks  we  should  add  swim- 
ming to  our  list  of  all-around  sport  events  when 
we  offer  another  medal.  Lloyd  Thomas  asks  how 
to  make  a  simple  telescope  for  use  in  studying  as- 
tronomy. Better  not  make  it.  at  all.  One  that  is 
of  any  real  use  can  only  be  made  by  an  expert,  and 
is  expensive.  G.  D.  Galloway.  ( lakwood  Place.  Euil 
Claire,  Wis.,  publishes  the  Albermarle,  and  wants  to 
semi  you  a  sample  It  is  a  neat  eight-page  ama- 
teur paper.  Will  Fred  Hawthorne  tell  us  about  tbe 
fruits  of  Jamaica— what  ones  are  ripe  when  he 
writes.  Compare  them,  date  for  date,  with  their 
appearance  in  Massachusetts,  and  carefully  de- 
scribe those  that  we  do  not  have.  Sir  Fred,  we 
should  explain,  lives  at  "Mona  Great  House," 
Kingston,  British  West  Indies. 


HARPER'S   ROUXD   TABLE 


CAHERA    CLUB. 

PAPERS   FOR   BEGIXXERS,   Nil.   9. 
TREATMENT  OF   UNDER-EXPOSED  PLATES. 

BY  an  "under-exposed  plntc-"  is  meant  a 
plate  which  has  not  been  exposed  long 
eiioii<rli  to  the  action  of  light  for  the  objects 
to  make  a  deep  enough  impression  in  the 
silver  salts,  or  to  cause  the.  chemical  change 
to  take  place  which  makes  the  perfect  pic- 
ture. 

The  normal  development  of  an  under-ex- 
posed plate  results  in  a  negative  in  which 
.the  high  or  white  lights  are  very  strong, 
and  have  a  chalky  appeaninee  in  the  print, 
while  the  shadows  have  little  or  no  detail; 
and  win-re  a  plate  has  been  much  under- 
exposed, only  clear  glass  is  the  result  of  the 
development.  The  reason  why  the  high 
lights  appear  so  harsh  and  strong  is  due  tu 
the  fart  that  to  get  detail  in  the  shadows 
the  development  is  carried  on  till  the  high 
lights  an-  very  mncli  over-developed  and 
the  Him  has  become  dense. 

The  practised  amateur  usually  knows 
whether  his  plate  has  been  under-exposed 
or  not.  and  treats  it  accordingly.  The  be- 
ginner, not  having  learned  how  to  gauue 
exposures  correctly,  must  learn  how  to  dis- 
tinguish an  under-exposed  plate  as  soon  as 
the  developer  begins  to  act  on  it,  so  that 
lie  may  get  a  good,  or  fairly  good,  negative. 

It' a  plate  which  has  been  under-exposed 
is  placed  in  a  normal  developer,  the  hieji 
lights  will  be  some  time  in  coining  out,  and 
the  shadows  will  not  appear  at  all,  or,  if 
they  do,  will  be  very  dim.  If  the  develop- 
ment is  continued  in  order  to  bring  out  de- 
tail, the  plate  is  apt  to  fog,  and  is  then 
spoiled  entirely. 

If  the  rest  of  the  image  does  not  follow 
the  high  lights  in  a  reasonable  length  of 
time,  take  the  plate  from  the  developer  and 
place  it  in  clean  water.  It  will  do  no  harm 
if  it  stands  in  water  I'm1  a  few  minutes, for 
\\aler  will  bring  out  detail  in  an  under-ex- 
posed plate. 

Nothing  has  been  said  about  the  different 
kinds  of  developers,  though  they  will  be 

fully  treated  in  later  papers.     Tin-  bej;i i 

should  stick  to  one  developer  till  he  h.-i- 
leai  lied  just  how  to  use  it. 

If  one  is  using  pyro,  a  fresh  solution 
should  be  at  once  made  up,  using  half  the 
ijuantity  of  pyro  given  in  the  formula,  and 
the  full  amount  of  the  alkaline  solution. 
The  pyro  is  the  developing  agent,  or  thai 
which  gives  the  required  strength  or  den- 
sit  \  .  \\  bile  the  alkaline  solution,  containing 
the  sulphite  of  soda,  prevents  the  staining 
of  the  negative  and  preserves  the  pyro. 
After  tin-  development  of  the  plate  is  fin- 
ished turn  off  the  solution,  leave  the  plate 
in  the  tray,  pour  water  over  it,  and  allow  it 
to  stand  for  tifteeu  or  twenty  minutes,  be- 
ing  careful  that  it  is  covered  from  the  light. 

If  oue  uses  hydrochinon,  which  is  a  fa- 
vorite developing  agent  with  amateurs,  di- 
lute the  developer  and  add  from  three  to 
seven  drops  of  iodide  solution.  This  solu- 
tion is  composed  of  1  grain  of  iodine.  1  ice 

of  water,  1  ounce  of  alcohol.  Mark  the  bot- 
tle ''Accelerator."  This  solution  hastens 
the  development  of  the  image  and  brings  it 
up  evenly,  and  the  contrasts  between  the 
lights  and  shadows  are  made  -oft  and  del- 
icate. 


Copyright,  1835.  bj  The  Procter  «  r.nmlik  Co.,  Cin'ti. 


Plenty  of  fresh  air,  an 
abundance  of  sleep,  a  care- 
ful diet  and  the  daily  use  of 
a  good  soap  like  the  Ivory 
will  purify  the  complexion 
as  no  cosmetic  can. 


& 


EARN  A  TRICYCLE! 

We  wish  to  introduce  our 
Teas.  Spices,  an«l  baking 
I'OW.UT,  sell  30  ibs.  and 
we  will  give  you  a  Fairy 
Tricycle  :  sell  25  Ibs.  for 
aSoiidSilver  Watch  and 
rhuin ;  GO  Ibs.  fora  Gold 
Watch  and  Chain;  76  Ibs. 
for  a  Bicycle ;  10  Ibs. 
for  a  Beautiful  Gold 
Rinp.  Express  prepaid 
11  msh  is  sent  for  gixxls. 
Write  tor  catalog  and 
Order  sheet. 

W.  G.  BAKER, 

SPRINGFIELD.  MASS. 


OFFICIAL  ANNOUNCEMENT  o^^awaM 

CILLOTT'S  PENS  at  the  CHICAGO  LZPOSITIOK. 
AtVAKD:  "  Fur  excellence  of  steel  used  in  their 
manufacture,  it  being:  line  Drained  and  elastic  -  super- 
ior workmanship,  especially  shown  by  the  careful 
grinding  which  leaves  the  pens  free  from  defects  The 
tempering  is  excellent  ;md  the  action  of  the  finished 
pens  perfect."  (Signed)  FJUNZ  VOOT, 

fH.  I.  KIMKU.I,,  IttflirirlualJudge. 

Approved:-         Pivx'f  Departmental  t'wnmittec. 
(JOHN  JJOYI)  THACHER, 

Chairman  Exec.  Cam.  on  Awards. 


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783 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


THE    CIRCUS  TRAINING    SCHOOL— AN    UNPROFITABLE    PUPIL, 


CARAWAY    SEEDS. 
I'M  going  to  plant  these  little  seeds, 

And  some  fine  day  I'll  wake 
To  find  a  pretty  spreading  stalk 

All  bending  down  with  cake. 


HARD  WORK. 

"WELL,"  said  Jack,  "  vacation  has  begun,  and  I'm  just  as 
busy  as  ever." 

"  Doing  what  ?"  asked  his  father. 

"  Finding  something  to  do,"  said  Jack.  "  And  I  tell  you, 
Daddy,  it's  hard  work." 


ALL  great  artists  have  queer  ex- 
periences during  their  lives,  which 
the  biographer  loves  to  dwell  upon  in 
his  books  of  anecdotes.  Here  is  one 
that  occurred  to  the  great  pianist 
Paderewski  iu  England.  He  re- 
ceived a  polite  letter  from  an  in- 
valid lady,  asking  him  if  he  would 
spare  the  time  to  play  her  one  piece 
during  an  afternoon,  as  her  health 
would  not  permit  of  her  going  to  any 
crowded  concert  -  room,  the  letter 
closing  with  an  otter  of  a  half  a  gui- 
nea reward. 

Paderewski  replied  with  an  invi- 
tation to  call  at  his  hotel,  appoint- 
ing an  hour  when  he  would  receive 
her.  The  lady  called,  and  Paderew- 
ski, after  pleasantly  greeting  her, 
sat  before  his  piano  and  played  a 
prelude,  a  nocturne  of  Chopin,  and 
Songs  without  Words. 

The  little  impromptu  concert  over, 
the  lady  rose,  thanked  the  virtuoso 
most  graciously,  and  extended  her 
hand  to  bid  him  adieu,  slipping  the 
promised  half-guinea  into  his  palm. 
"Ah,  what  is  this?"  Paderewski 
inquired. 

"Why,"  she  said,  sweetly,  "it's 
the  half-guinea  I  promised  you." 

"Now,  I  really  believe,"  he  au- 
answered,  with  a  smile,  "  that  I  shall 
be  able  to  get  to  the  next  town 
without  it."  And  pleasantly  return- 
ing the  coin,  he  bowed  the  lady  out. 

• 

NAPOLEON'S  smooth  face  was  a 
sure  evidence  of  his  dislike  for  a 
lirard.  In  some  anecdotes  of  the 
Russian  campaign  there  is  a  story 
told  of  the  great  Emperor  and  a  poor 
but  witty  barber,  who  had  occasion 
to  shave  him. 

Napoleon  had  made  a  rather 
lengthy  detour  from  the  line  of 
march  with  a  detachment  of  officers. 
Arriving  at  a  small  village  they  re- 
freshed themselves  with  a  good  meal 
and  baths.  Napoleon,  wishing  to  be 
shaved,  the  village  barber  was  called 
in.  While  the  poor  fellow  strapped 
his  razor  and  passed  it  industriously 
over  the  great  Emperor's  chin,  he  re- 
mained silent  and  seemingly  mel- 
ancholy, although  performing  his 
work  with  amazing  rapidity  and 

smoothness.  When  he  had  finished,  Napoleon  complimented 
him,  remarking,  "  But,  man,  why  do  you  wear  such  a  melan- 
choly face  ?  You  should  be  happy  to  have  the  privilege  of 
shaving  an  Emperor." 

"I  am  doubly  happy,  your  Majesty." 
"Then  what  is  it  that  troubles  you?" 
"Alas,  your  Majesty,  when  I  think  of  the  Kings  upon 
Kings  and  Emperors  that  have  died  without  knowing  what 
it  was  to  be  shaved  by  me,  I  am  sad  and  melancholy." 


PROOF  POSITIVE. 

PERCY.  "Don't  two  negatives  make  an  affirmative?" 
PAPA.  "Yes, Percy." 
PEHCY.  "  Then  I'm  awful  smart." 
PAPA.  "Why?" 

PEHCY.  "  Because  the  teacher  says  I'm  a  '  Know-noth- 
ing.'" 


"  WHAT  did  Washington  mean  when  just  before  the  bat- 
tle of  Trenton  he  said,  'Put  none  but  Americans  on  guard 
to-night  ?' "  asked  an  Irishman,  who  was  heatedly  defending 
the  valor  of  the  Celtic  race  in  general.  "  I'll  tell  you  what 
he  meant!  He  meant,  'Let  the  Irish  sleep;  I've  work  for 
them  to-morrow.'  " 


BOBBY.  "Mamma,  I  want  you  to  crack  me  open." 
MAMMA.  "  Why,  my  boy,  what's  the  matter  with  you?" 
BOBBY.  "Papa  said  I  was  a  bad  egg.   I  don't  believe  it." 


784 


HARPEKS 


ROUND  TABLE 


Copyright,  1895,  by  HAHPKR  &  BROTHERS.     Ail  Rights  Ref 


PUBLISHED     WEEKLY. 
VOL.   XVI. — NO.  823. 


NEW  YORK.  TUESDAY,  AUGUST  6,  1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO  DOLLARS   A    YEAR. 


GREAT    MEN'S    SONS. 

THE  SON  OF  ALEXANDER  THE  GREAT. 


BY    ELBRIDGE    S.  BROOKS. 


IT  was  all  glory  and  glitter  one  bright  day  in  Babylon. 
It    was  that    eventful    morning,  signs    and    ages   ago. 
--when  the  armies  of  the  East  and  the  armies  of  the  West, 
with  the  epigoiwi,  or  brilliant  young  "sons  of  the  Kmu, 
twenty  thousand  in  line,  with  horse-archers  and  foot-arch- 
ers, and  slingers  and  spearmen,  and  war-elephants  and  war- 
chariots,  and  all  the  galleys  and  barges  of  the  King's  navy, 
marched  and  countermarched,  sailed    and    manoeuvred,  all 
:in  honor  of  one  very  small  boy,  who  was  yet  a  very  impor- 
tant one. 

He  sat  under  a  gorgeous  canopy  upon  tl.e  gleaming  poi 
tico  of  the  palace  of  the  kings  at  Babylon,  and  clapped  his 
hands,  and  crowed  his  praises,  and  laughed  aloud  in  g 
-as  spears  were  tossed  and  shields  were  clashed  aloft,  and 
soldiers  shouted  and  generals  sainted,  and  princes  of  v 
nations  bowed  themselves  to  the  ground  in  homage  and 
miration— all  in  honor  of  this  very  small  boy  wnh  a  very 


Teat  name.  For  he  was  Alexander,  tho  Shield,  the  Great 
Lord.  Hlessed,  That,  liveth  t'cirever.  lie  was  constit  in  nuial 
King  of  JIacedon,  Captain-General  of  Greece,  Lord  of  l'j\  j.i, 
and  monarch  of  Asia.  He  was  the  son  of  Alexander,  King 
of  JIacedon,  called  by  men  the  Great  and  Conqueror  of  the 
World. 

But  Alexander  the  Great  was  dead.  And  in  the  palace 
of  the  kings  whose  empire  lie  had  conquered,  the  palace  in 
which  Belshazzar  had  feasted  and  CMIIS  had  ruled,  and  in 
which  the  all- conquering  Macedonian  had  died  at  thirty- 
two,  this  helpless  baby,  less  than  a  year  old.  and  who  had 
ne\er  seen  his  father  of  the  mights  name.  he-Id  tin-  SO 
eiijutv  that  Ale:.ander  the  (Jreat  had  established. 

'it  was  a  vast   pos>e>sion.      It    stretched    tv,.m   < 
India,  from  Egypt  to  Siberia:   it  was  MI.  li  ax  onlj  a  genius 
could  have  conquered  and  only  a  genius  could  rule.      \Vith 
Alexander  dead  and  only  a  bal>;  ' .vudy 


HAEPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


in  danger.  But  Roxaua  the  Queen  said,  boldly,  "  My  boy 
shall  be  King,"  and  all  the  "Companions  of  Alexander,"  as 
his  generals  and  ministers  were  called,  echoed  her  words: 
"The  boy  shall  be  King!"  And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  at 
thr  great  display  in  Babylon  the  little  son  of  Alexander  was 
honored  and  sainted  and  adored  as  the  successor  of  his  im- 
perial father. 

But  Alexander  the  Great  had  died  too  soon.  He  had  won- 
derful plans  as  to  what  he  would  do  if  he  had  lived,  but 
none  at  all  as  to  what  was  to  be  done  if  he  should  happen 
to  die.  He  did  die — suddenly — in  the  year  323  B.C.  And 
thereupon  each  one  of  his  leading  generals,  or  "Compan- 
ions," declared  that  he  was  the  man  to  step  into  Alexander's 
shoes,  and  have  the  charge  of  the  empire  and  the  care  of 
the  young  King  until  the  boy  should  come  of  age. 

So  they  began  to  quarrel  among  themselves  and  to  mnke 
things  very  uncomfortable  for  the  Queen  Roxana  in  the 
splendid  palace  at  Babylon,  until  finally  little  Alexander's 
grandmother,  the  Princess  Olyuipias,  declared  that  she 
would  take  charge  of  the  King  and  his  empire.  This  made 
the  generals  angry  with  Olympias,  who  was  a  very  drier- 
mined  and  a  very  vindictive  old  lady,  and  things  became 
more  mixed  up  than  ever.  But  the  Princess  Olympias  had 
considerable  power,  and  she  managed  to  get  possession  of 
little  King  Alexander  and  his  mother,  and  to  have  them 
brought,  under  a  strong  body-guard,  from  province  to  prov- 
ince and  from  camp  to  camp  from  one  end  of  the  empire  to 
the  other,  until  they  reached  her  home  in  westeru  Greece. 

Gradually  the  quarrelling  generals  who  were  fighting  for 
the  possession  of  Alexander's  empire  were  reduced,  by  vic- 
tory or  death,  to  live.  And  of  these  five  the  most  ambitious 
and  determined  was  C'assander,  the  regent  of  Macedon. 
He  hated  Alexander  the  Great ;  he  hated  the  sou  of  Alex- 
ander ;  for  the  father  had  slighted  him  when  living,  and  the 
sou,  by  living,  stood  in  his  way.  He  had  determined  to 
be  the  head  of  the  empire,  and  he  did  not  rest  until  he  had 
forced  his  rivals,  the  fighting  generals,  into  a  bitter  quarrel 
for  supremacy,  that  led  to  a  long  and  bloody  war. 

It  was  during  this  war  that  little  King  Alexander's 
grandmother,  the  Princess  Olympias.  set  out  to  punish  Cas- 
sauder.  While  he  was  fighting  in  southern  Greece,  -lie 
gathered  an  army  in  northern  Greece  and  attempted  to  in- 
vade Macedon  and  get  possession  of  its  capital  city,  Pella. 
But  Cassander  was  a  shrewd  young  general;  he  seized  all 
the  ships  he  could  get  together  and  sailed  up  the  ^Egean 
Sea  so  quickly  that  before  Olympias  knew  it  he  had  laud- 
ed his  army  and  got  between  her  and  the  road  that  led  to 
Pella.  Thereupon  the  old  Princess,  being  afraid  to  risk  a 
battle,  shut  herself  up  with  her  slender  army  and  the  little 
Alexander  and  his  mother  in  the  city  of  Pyilna,  an  old  I  ou  n 
of  Macedon  lying  at  the  head  of  what  is  now  called,  on  your 
map  of  Turkey  in  Europe,  the  Gulf  of  Sal. mica.  It  is  iu 
the  walled  town  of  Pydna  that,  in  the  year  316  B.C.,  we  get 
our  second  brief  glimpse  of  the  sou  of  Alexander,  now  a 
little  boy  of  seven. 

It  was  a  beautiful  spot  iu  which  that  old  town  of  Pydua 
was  built;  it  stood  three  miles  from  the  sea,  in  a  fair  and 
fertile  region,  and  almost  iu  the  shadow  of  that  grand  old 
hill  Mount  Olympus,  the  home  of  the  gods  of  Greece. 

It  was  anything  but  a  beautiful  home  for  little  King 
Alexander,  however,  when  he  found  himself  locked  behind 
its  thick  walls.  For  Cassander,  the  Macedonian,  inarched 
his  soldiers  against  it,  and  dug  a  great  trench  all  around 
it,  and  set  lip  all  the  dreadful  old-time  war-engines  about 
it,  and  determined  either  to  batter  down  its  walls  or  starve 
out  its  inhabitants. 

It  was  a  terrible  siege.  Provisions  gave  out,  and  poor 
little  Alexander  went  to  bed  hungry  many  a  night.  The 
horses,  the  mules,  and  the  dogs  were  killed  for  food.  The 
great  war-elephants,  having  nothing  to  eat  but  sawdust, 
grew  too  weak  to  be  of  any  use.  and,  with  their  useless 
drivers,  were  killed  and  eaten  by  the  soldiers. 

One  dark  night,  through  a  secret  doorway  in  the  city 
wall,  a  little  party  crept  softly  out  of  Pyilna  and  weut 
down  toward  the  port.  It  was  the  Princes.,  Olympian, 
with  the  little  King  and  his  mother,  accompanied  by  a  lew 
followers.  Grown  desperate  by  failure  and  famine,  they 
had  planned  to  escape  on  a  swift  galley  which  was  wailing 


for  them  in  the  harbor.  Silently  they  moved  forward,  but 
before  they  had  gone  a  mile  a  breathless  messenger  met 
them.  "  Hack,  back  to  the  city,"  he  cried;  "hack  ere  you 
are  all  made  prisoners!  Cassander  has  discovered  your 
plan.  The  galley  is  captured,  and  men  lie  in  wait  at  the 
port  to  seize  and  slay  yon  all." 

Hurriedly  the  fugitives  returned  to  the  city.  Then,  un- 
able longer  to  stand  the  horrors  and  privations  of  a  be- 
sieged town,  Olympias  the  Princess  and  little  King  Alex- 
ander, her  grandson,  surrendered  to  G'assauder,  after  getting 
him  to  promise  to  do  them  no  harm. 

But  those  were  da-ys  when  such  promises  did  not  amount 
to  much.  For  the  lying  Cassander  speedily  went  back 
upon  all  his  promises.  He  had  the  ambitions  old  Princess 
killed,  and  he  imprisoned  Alexander  and  his  mother  in  the 
gloomy  old  citadel  at  Amphipolis,  an  important  city  of 
Macedon,  on  the  river  Strymon,  three  miles  back  from  the 
sea,  at  the  head  of  what  is  now  called,  ou  your  map  of  Tur- 
key iu  Europe,  the  Gulf  of  Orfani. 

Here  in  this  massive  and  gloomy  old  citadel  of  Amphi- 
polis ("the  city  surrounded  by  water"),  where  the  boy  was 
kept  cluse  prisoner  for  live  years,  we  get  our  last  glimpse 
of  the  son  of  Alexander.  For  when  Cassander  learned  that 
there  was  a  movement  on  foot  to  set  the  young  King  free 
and  make  him  King  indeed,  he  sent  to  Glaucius,  the  com- 
mander of  the  citadel,  a  swift  messenger  bearing  a  fearful 
message.  It  was  an  order  to  make  away  with  Alexander 
and  his  mother  as  speedily  and  as  secretly  as  possible. 

The  dreadful  work  was  done.  How,  when,  or  where 
none  knows  to  this  day.  The  "taking  oft"'  of  the  thirteen- 
year-old  King  of  Macedon  was  as  great  a  tragedy  and  as 
complete  a  mystery  as  was  the  murder  of  the  English  Princes 
in  the  Tower  of  London  eighteen  hundred  years  later. 

So  the  last  of  the  race  of  Alexander  was  cut  off.  Cas- 
sauder  and  the  generals  made  themselves  kings,  and  the 
Macedonians  held  sway  in  the  East  uutil  the  growing  pow- 
er of  Rome  overshadowed  and  absorbed  all  that  was  left  of 
the  once  mighty  empire  of  Alexander  the  Great. 

It  is  evident  that  the  son  of  the  conqueror  possessed  little 
of  the  pluck  and  .spirit  of  his  famous  father,  who  was  a 
governor  at  fourteen,  a  general  at  sixteen,  a  king  at  eigh- 
teen, a  conqueror  at  twenty.  The  strength  of  his  father's 
name  was  great,  and  had  the  little  Alexander  been  of  equal 
valor  he  might  have  changed  the  history  of  the  world. 

But  he  did  not.  The  life  that  began  in  glitter  and  glory 
in  the  splendid  palace  at  Babylon,  tasted  privation  and 
misery  behind  the  gates  of  Pydua,  and  went  out  in  secrecy 
and  death  in  the  grim  dungeons  of  Amphipolis. 

ll  is  a  sad  story,  but  the  son  of  Alexander  was  not  the 
only  "  sad  little  prince"  in  the  history  of  the  world.  His 
story  is  simply  more  notable,  and  perhaps  more  pathetic, 
than  that  of  other  unfortunate  boys  because  of  the  great- 
ness and  splendor  of  his  father's  name,  and  because  not 
even  the  shadow  of  that  mighty  name  could  save  from  sor- 
row, pain,  aud  death  the  short  yonng  life  that  should  rath- 
er have  been  full  of  pleasure  and  of  promise,  aud  should 
have  made  itself  a  power  iu  the  union  of  races  and  the 
history  of  the  world. 


COBWEB   LAKE. 

BY  FRANKLIN  MATTHEWS. 

THE  most  curious  and  interesting  highway  that  I  know 
of  is  Cobweb  Lane,  and  I  very  much  doubt  if  any  of 
my  readers  ever  heard  of  it.  I  am  sure,  however,  that  some 
of  them  have  been  iu  it  iu  the  daytime,  lint  strangely 
enough  they  have  never  seen  it,  for  the  peculiar  reason  that 
Cobweb  Lane  doesn't  exist  iu  the  daytime.  It  only  exists 
at  night.  It  isn't  some  out-of-the-way  aud  quaint  place  in 
London,  as,  at  lirst  thought,  its  name  might  indicate,  but  it 
is  in  the  most  conspicuous  place  in  Greater  New  York.  I'll 
let  you  into  the  secret — I  am  quite  sure  it  is  a  secret  with 
me — aud  tell  you  where  it  is  and  what  it  is. 

Cobweb  Lane  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  the  prom- 
enade ou  the  Brooklyn  Bridge.  It  doesu't  exist  uutil  after 
midnight,  because  not  until  then  do  the  st  lands  that  hang 
from  the  big  cables  resemble  the  huge  cobwebs  that  have 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


suggested  the  name  Cobweb  Lane.  The  moon  has  to  be 
in  just  the  right  position  ;  the  great  cities  of  New  York 
auil  Brooklyn  must  have  gone  to  bed  and  left  numerous 
lights,  some  in  full  glare  and  some  turned  down  ;  the  water 
in  the  river  below  must  have  a  thin  veil  of  mist  hanging 
over  it,  and  then,  in  the  stillness  of  the  night,  if  you  will 
walk  over  the  bridge  you  will  see  Cobweb  Lane. 

There  is  East  Cobweb  Laue  and  West  Cobweb  Lane. 
The  first  is  on  the  Brooklyn  side  of  the  bridge  and  the  other 
is  on  the  New  York  side.  As  you  walk  out  on  the  prom- 
enade anil  look  over  the  cities  and  the  beautiful  harbor,  per- 
haps you  soon  will  turn  your  eyes  to  the  top  of  one  of  the 
towers  as  you  approach  it.  You  are  now  at  the  beginning 
of  Cobweb  Lane.  The  four  big  cables  curve  down  from  the 
toil  and  hide  themselves  in  some  masonry  at  your  feet,  and 
when  you  look  up  the  narrow  spaces  between  them,  as  they 
reach  away  before  you,  the  eye  catches  sight  of  strands  of 
steel  rope,  woven  regularly  and  gracefully,  hanging  from 
the  cables  and  extending  to  the  structure  on  which  you 
are  standing.  These  strands,  when  the  moon  shines  just 
right,  partly  obscured  and  lying  low  in  the  south,  are  like 
the  filmy  threads  of  a  mouster  cobweb  spun  in  the  sky. 

Just  as  you  are  entranced  with  this  fairy  picture,  and  are 
wondering  where  the  big  spider  must  be,  you  look  ahead 
of  you  on  the  promenade,  and,  as  if  coming  from  some  hid- 
den passage,  you  see  a  cloud  of  vapor.  There  is  something 
approaching,  surely.  You  wonder  atonce  if  the  spider  that 
could  have  strung  this  web  in  the  air  would  have  hot 
breath,  and  it  is  not  until  you  hear  a  noise  and  are  con- 
scious that  a  train  of  cars  has  passed  you  that  you  begin  to 
realize  that  it  really  isn't  a  spider  chasing  aloug  one  of  the 
paths  of  his  \\el>  after  you,  in  the  hope  of  catching  you 
and  making  of  you  a  very  choice  morsel  of  a  fly. 

For  nearly  five  years  1  have  been  going  over  the  Brook- 
lyn Bridge  night  and  day,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  every 
few  days  I  see  something  in  the  arrangement  of  the  details 
of  the  structure  that  I  never  saw  before.  It  is  a  constant 
delight  to  watch  the  bridge  under  the  varying  conditions 
that  affect  it  from  day  to  day.  One  can  see,  for  example, 
how  carefully  the  wires  for  the  electric  lights  are  strung. 
They  are  almost  within  reach  of  any  person  walking  across 
the  structure,  and  yet  there  is  absolutely  no  danger  from 
them.  It  is  interesting  to  watch  the  bracing  of  the  struct- 
ure, how  the  big  and  little  stays  slope  now  this  way  and 
that,  and  to  note  just  where  they  change  in  their  slanting 
direction.  It  is  also  interesting  at  the  dead  of  night  to  see 
the  workmen  splice  one  of  the  car  cables,  taking  out  some 
broken  strand  and  weaving  in  another. 

I  always  like  to  see  the  workmen  paint  these  cables.  The 
men  walk  along  the  tracks  with  pots  of  red  paint  in  their 
hands.  They  have  great  mitts  of  lamb's  wool  on  their  hands, 
and  they  use  these  for  brushes.  They  dip  their  hands  iu 
the  paint,  and  then  run  them  along  the  cables  until  the 
paint  is  transferred  from  the  hands  to  the  cable.  It  is  dan- 
gerous work,  for  not  only  must  the  workmen  guard  against 
falling  between  the  ties  to  the  water  below,  but  they  must 
face  the  danger  of  being  run  over,  for  every  minute  a  train 
of  cars  comes  along. 

I  like  to  see  the  care  that  is  taken  of  the  stations.  Every 
Sunday  morning  at  two  o'clock  the  workmen  get  out  a 
hose  and  wash  the  terminals,  just  as  sailors  wash  the  decks 
of  a  ship.  Once  every  four  years  the  structure  is  painted  in 
every  part.  It  is  fascinating  to  see  the  painters  swinging 
iu  their  chairs  far  up  one  of  the  cables  or  aloug  the  strands 
that  make  the  cobwebs  at  night.  Every  eight  mouths  a 
IH-W  flooring  has  to  be  laid  down  on  the  driveway,  and  so 
you  see  there  is  something  going  on  constantly  on  the 
bridge  that  is  worth  watching. 

I  do  not  intend  to  tell  anything  about  the  bridge  in  the 
.way  of  statistics.  The  well-known  facts  as  to  length  and 
height  and  cost  and  power  to  resist  strains  may  be  found 
in  any  of  the  newspaper  almanacs.  But  there  is  one  fea- 
ture about  the  bridge  that  I  do  not  think  is  well  known,  and 
which  has  interested  me  greatly.  I  think  it  will  be  news 
to  most  persons  that  up  in  the  towers  where  the  big  cables 
rest  there  are  a  series  of  steel  rollers  over  which  the  cables 
pass.  Each  cable  rests  in  a  sort  of  a  cradle  as  it  goes 
through  the  top  of  the  towers,  and  under  each  of  these 


cradles  are  forty- three  steel  Millers,  tour  and  a  half  feet 
long  and  three  and  one-half  inches  in  diameter.  It  is  well 
known  that  the  heat  aud  cold,  elongate  and  contract  Hie 
cables, and  most  of  those  persons  who  know  about  the.se 
rollers  think  that  they  have  been  placed  there  to  allow  Mm 
cables  to  lengthen  or  shorten  themselves  according  as  the 
weather  is  hot  or  cold.  They  are  in  error  en  this  matter, 
however, for  the  rollers  are  placed  in  the  towers  merelv  t<> 
equalize  the  strain  on  the  bridge.  The  contraction  and 
expansion  are  equal  on  both  sides  of  a  tower,  and  so  them 
would  be  no  need  of  them  on  that  account. 

If,  however,  there  should  be  a  great  weight  on  one  side 
of  the  bridge  and  not  on  the  other,  then  these  rollers  come 
into  use.  Under  these  conditions  the  weight  of  the  cables, 
and  the  structure  they  support,  is  thrown  down  the  inside 
of  each  tower  straight  to  its  foundations. 

Another  thing  I  like  to  watch  about  the  bridge  is  tlm 
slip  joint  exactly  in  the  centre.  There  are  two  others  of 
these  joints,  one  between  each  tower  aud  the  land  anchor- 
age, but  the  most  interesting  one  is  in  the  centre.  When  a 
train  of  cars  passes,  you  can  see  the  joint  expand  and  con- 
tract three-eighths  of  an  inch,  and  even  when  a  carriage 
passes  on  the  roadway  you  can  see  it  move  a  little.  These 
slip  joints  are  necessary  chiefly  because  of  the  heat  and  cold. 
In  summer  the  cables  are  fifteen  inches  longer  between 
the  towers  than  in  the  winter.  The  bridge  structure  is 
cut  in  two  iu  the  middle,  and  an  arm  is  fastened  to  one  of 
these  ends.  It  slips  into  an  opening  in  the  other  end,  and 
moves  back  and  forth  as  any  expansion  or  contraction  oc- 
curs. I  noticed  one  day  last  winter,  when  the  greatest 
crush  iu  the  history  of  the  bridge  occurred,  and  when  it  was 
estimated  that  2500  tons  of  human  beings  weie  distributed 
along  the  bridge  at  one  time,  that  this  slip  joint  in  the  mid- 
dle was  drawn  out  at  least  fifteen  inches  because  of  the 
unusual  weight.  As  each  cable,  however,  is  intended  to 
sustain  a  weight  of  12,000  tons,  this  great  crush  was  a  small 
matter.  Still,  the  constant  motion  of  the  bridge  that  seems 
so  solid  aud  inflexible  is  well  worth  studying. 

I  am  also  very  fond  of  watching  the  structure  sway  in  a 
high  wind.  I  was  talking  with  one  of  the  guards  recently, 
who  had  been  on  the  bridge  since  the  day  it  was  opened. 
He  said  that  early  one  inoinini;,  in  the  first  high  wind  that, 
came  after  the  opening,  he  looked  over  to  the  New  York 
side  and  apparently  saw  one  of  the  biggest  chimneys  in  town 
bending  this  way  and  that,  and  he  stood  there  transfixed, 
waiting  for  it  to  fall.  It  didn't  fall,  although  it  bent  far 
over,  and  he  thought  it  must  be  wonderful  mortar  that 
could  hold  so  many  bricks  together.  Suddenly  he  notic.  .1 
that  the  chimney  was  exactly  in  a  line  with  one  of  the  ver- 
tical strands  from  the  cables,  and  he  saw  at  once  that  it 
was  the  bridge  and  not  the  chimney  that  \\as  swaying. 
The  guard  was  unprepared  for  such  a  situation.  Of  course 
the  bridge  was  moving  only  a  few  inches  from  side  to  side, 
but  when  this  man  measured  by  a  chimney  a  mile  a\\a>  it 
seemed  to  move  as  much  as  the  chimney  apparently  had 
been  moving. 

This  guard  said  he  had  been  all  through  the  civil  war, 
aud  had  faced  death  a  hundred  times  in  battle,  but  he 
never  was  so  frightened  as  on  this  occasion.  He  actually 
expected  to  see  the  bridge  go  down  at  any  moment,  but  ho 
stood  at  his  post  until  relieved.  When  lie  ^nt  home  later 
in  the  morning  his  wife  asked  him  why  he  was  so  pale, 
and  he  said  that  he  had  to  go  and  lie  do\\n  lor  sexeral 
hours  to  recover  from  the  shock.  Nowadays  no  one  thinks 
anything  of  a  slight  swaying  of  the  bridge  in  a  tierce  wind, 
but  to  my  mind  it  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  things 
about  the  bridge  to  watch. 

Soon  after  the   bridge1    was   opened  word   came  to  Chid 
Engineer  Martin    that.  Liariium  was  going  to  march  In-  en 
tire  herd  of  elephants,  with  the   famous   Jumbo  at    tin-a- 
head, across  the   bridge   some   night.      There,   was  no   i.uitl" 
for  elephants,  and  the  Barnum  agents  hoped  that  the  ail 
thorities  would  refuse  to  allow  the  herd  in  pass  over.      That 
would  givi;  the  Itanium  people  a  chance  to  sa\    I  hat  Jumbo 

was  so  big  that  the  million  ridf ie  afraid  to 

lei  him  cross  the  ,-t  rueture,  and  I  he  circus   peoph     fon 

a  splendid   aih  ell  iseuienl. 

Mr.  Martin  wasn't    to  be  caught,  napping,  and  he  w.-is  on 


787 


HAEPEE'S   BOUND    TABLE 


and  interesting  things  about  the  bridge, 
you  will  be  convinced  that  the  bridge  is 
not  prosaic  after  all.  A  visit  to  Cobweb 
Laue  will  prove  it. 


YOU  ARE  NOW  AT  THE  BEGINNING  OP  COBWEB  LANE. 


hand  when  the  herd  approached.  The  man  in  charge  of- 
fered to  pay  for  crossing,  but  Mr.  Martin  said  there  was  no 
charge  for  elephants,  and  that  the  man  could  take  them 
over  at  his  own  risk.  Mr.  Martin  stipulated  that  the  ele- 
phants should  be  kept  at  regular  intervals.  But  when  the 
animals  got  out  on  the  roadway,  a  train  passing  over  fright- 
ened them,  and,  with  Jumbo  to  lead  them,  they  gathered 
in  a  group  and  trumpeted  fiercely.  Finally  the  keepers  got 
them  to  go  on,  but  they  were  so  timid  that  they  crowded 
each  other  all  the  way  over.  Mr.  Martin  ran  out  to  the 
centre  to  watch  the  effect  on  the  slip  joint,  and  found  that 
the  weight  amounted  to  nothing.  Ever  since  that  day  ele- 
phants by  the  hundred  would  not  cause  the  bridge  officials 
any  concern.  Mr.  Baruum's  elephants  got  over  in  safety, 
but  there  was  no  Jumbo  advertisement  to  be  had  out  of  the 
Brooklyn  Bridge. 

Chief  Engineer  Martin  of  the  bridge  once  said  to  me, 
when  I  asked  him  if  he  could  not  tell  me  some  of  the  inter- 
esting things  about  it  that  usually  escaped  the  ordinary 
observer : 

"There  isn't  much  to  be  said.  The  bridge  is  a  very  pro- 
saic thing." 

I  have  no  doubt  it  is  to  Mr.  Martin.  He  concerns  him- 
self with  abstract  mathematical  formulas  a  good  deal.  He 
knows  about  the  tangents  and  sines  and  cosines  and  curves 
and  strains  and  all  that,  which  some  of  us  grown-up  people 
studied  about  in  college,  and  have  been  glad  to  forget  in 
our  humdrum  lives  since.  When  I  asked  Mr.  Martin,  how- 
ever, if  he  knew  where  Cobweb  Lane  was,  he  smiled,  and 
said  he  didn't.  He  showed  in  that  way  that  the  bridge 
•was  a  very  prosaic  thing  to  him ;  but  I  am  sure  that  if  you 
take  no  thought  of  mathematics,  and  look  for  the  beautiful 


THE   WESTBRIDGE  BUEGLAR 
ALARM. 

BY  WILLIAM  DRYSDALE. 
"  I"  WONDER  we  didn't  think  of  it  long 
A  ago.  Why,  we  can  sit  in  our  rooms 
and  talk  to  each  other  as  well  as  if  we 
were  together.  The  whole  outfit  won't 
cost  us  more  than  fifteen  dollars." 

Tom  Dailey  began  to  drum  telegraphic 
dots  and  dashes  on  the  table  with  the 
ends  of  his  fingers.  He  had  just  unfolded 
to  his  two  particular  chums  his  plan  of 
connecting  all  their  houses  with  a  tele- 
graph line,  and  the  boys  agreed  that  a 
telegraph  line  was  precisely  the  thing 
they  needed. 

"  I'm  ready  to  begin  right  away,"  said 
Harry  Barker.  "The  sooner  we  have  it 
working,  the  better." 

"It's  very  easily  learned,"  Tom  con- 
tinued. "You  can  learn  the  alphabet  in. 
an  hour  or  two,  and  after  a  week's  prac- 
tice you  can  read  the  sounder  slowly.  Our 
houses  stand  just  right  for  it,  too." 

Tom  was  certainly  correct  about  that. 
Their  houses  were  in  a  cluster  in  the  sub- 
urbs of  Westbridge,  two  on  one  side  of  the 
broad  avenue,  and  one  just  across  the  way, 
with  only  about  five  hundred  feet  of 
space  between  them. 

"It  would  be  a  grand  thing,"  Joe  said, 
after  deliberating  a  little,  "but  I  don't 
know  whether  I  can  get  father  to  ad- 
vance me  the  cash.  That  canoe  about 
used  np  my  money,  and  I  may  have  trouble 
to  get  any  money  for  a  while." 

"  No,  you  won't!"  Tom  exclaimed,  very 
decidedly.  "You'll  not  have  any  trou- 
ble at  all  to  get  money  for  a  telegraph 
line.  I've  thought  that  all  out.  You  see,  this  thing  is  not 
just  a  toy  to  play  with  ;  it's  for  real  use.  You  know  what 
the  worst  drawback  is  to  living  here  half  a  mile  out  of 
town;  it's  burglars,  isn't  it?  That's  what  we  always  have 
to  be  looking  out  for,  specially  since  they  broke  iuto  your 
house  two  years  ago,  and  took  all  your  silverware.  And 
I'd  like  to  know  what  better  burglar  alarm  we  could  have 
than  a  telegraph  line  between  our  houses." 

The  three  families  all  took  kiudly  to  the  telegraph  idea, 
for  they  said  that  it  would  be  a  great  convenience  to  them 
in  asking  and  answering  questions,  and  would  save  them 
many  a  step.  Besides,  if  a  burglar  should  visit  any  of  the 
houses  it  would  be  such  a  consolation  to  know  that  they 
could  call  assistance  in  a  few  seconds.  Tom  and  Harry  put 
little,  tables  close  by  their  beds  to  hold  the  key  and  sounder, 
but  Joe  had  to  make  other  arrangements.  His  mother  was 
afraid  to  have  the  wire  so  close  to  his  head  for  fear  it  might 
conduct  the  lightning  when  there  was  a  thunder-storm,  so 
it  was  decided  that  his  work-room  over  the  kitchen  should 
also  he  his  telegraph-office.  That  was  the  room  where  he 
kept  his  printing-press  and  his  carpenter's  bench,  and  the 
turning  lathe  that  he  had  saved  up  for  mouths  to  buy. 

This  work-room  was  too  far  from  Joe's  sleeping-room  for 
him  to  hear  the  click  of  the  sounder  if  the  other  hoys 
should  call  him  at  night;  but  Harry  got  his  friend  the 
operator  to  help  put  up  the  line,  and  the  operator  made  an 
ingenious  arrangement  by  which  a  little  electric  bell  was 
rung  in  the  work-room  whenever  any  of  the  keys  were 
used.  By  leaving  the  door  open  this  bell  could  be  heard. 
"Ain'l  it  grewh !"  Harry  clicked  off  after  the  boys  had 
been  practising  a  few  days,  meaning  to  say  "Ain't  it 
great !" 


HAEPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"Biggryf  thirg  out,"  Tom  ticked  in  reply,  imagining 
that  he  had  said  "Biggest  thing  out." 

But  they  soon  did  better  thau  that,  and  in  the  course  of 
a  week  or  two  they  were  talking  over  the  wire  almost  as 
glibly  as  though  they  were  iu  the  same  room.  Their  mo- 
thers and  sisters  were  delighted  with  it,  for  Mrs.  Dai  ley 
found  that  without  the  trouble  of  going  out  she  could  ask 
Mrs.  Barker  just  how  much  flour  to  put  iu  those  new  ginger- 
snaps,  and  the  girls  made  frequent  appointments  to  walk 
down  town  together — all  by  telegraph. 

The  line  was  so  successful  that  the  boys  had  to  talk  with 
their  schoolmates  about  it,  and  through  them  the  news 
reached  the  reporter  of  the  Westbridge  Eagle,  and  he  put 
a  paragraph  in  the  paper  about  it. 

''  Our  young  townsmen  Tom  Dailey  and  Harry  Barker 
and  Joe  Bailey,"  the  Eaijle  said,  "have  added  materially  to 
the  comfort  and  safety  of  their  respective  families  by  put- 
ting up  a  telegraph  line  and  burglar  alarm  between  their 
houses.  It  is  a  regularly  equipped  line,  with  an  office  iu 
each  house.  Td  is  the  office  call  of  young  Dailey,  Hb  of 
Barker,  and  Jb  of  Master  Bailey.  The  instruments  are  in 
the  boys'  sleeping -rooms,  except  Barkers;  he  uses  his 
work-shop  for  the  purpose,  and  an  electric  bell  gives  warn- 
ing when  he  is  wanted.  Burglars  will  give  those  three 
houses  a  wide  berth  in  the  future." 

"  Give  us  a  wide  berth  !"  Tom  exclaimed.  "  Well,  I  guess 
they  will!  They  wouldn't  have  any  chance  at  all.  Father 
always  keeps  a  revolver  in  his  room,  and  I  have  my  base- 
ball bat.  Now  mind,  fellows,  if  we  hear  a  burglar  at  night, 
we  send  an  alarm  first  thing,  and  the  minute  we  get  au 
alarm  we  call  our  fathers.  I  guess  a  burglar  would  soon 
wish  he  was  somewhere  else." 

"  I  have  a  baseball  bat  all  ready  at  the  head  of  the  bed 
too,"  said  Harry.  "Do  you  suppose  it  would  kill  a  mau  to 
hit  him  over  the  head  with  it,  Torn?  I  shouldn't  like  to 
kill  a  man,  not  even  a  burglar.  I  guess  I'd  give  him  a  rap 
over  the  shoulders.  But  I'm  afraid  father  would  fire  some 
bullets  into  him  before  I  had  a  chance." 

"  I  almost  wish  we'd  have  a  chance,"  Joe  put  in.  "  But, 
of  course,  there  won't  be  any  burglars  around,  now  that 
we're  all  ready  for  them." 

However,  burglars  are  a  little  uncertain  in  their  ways, 
and  it  is  not  well  to  feel  too  secure.  Perhaps  it  was  even 
while  the  boys  were  talking  that  two  rough-looking  fellows 


had  their  heads  together  in  the  back  room  of  a  disreputable 
saloon  in  Westbridge  making  plans.  Our  was  older  tlian 
the  other,  and  the  younger  bad  a  copy  of  the  Westbridge 
Earjle  in  his  hands,  occasionally  reading  a  little  here  and 
there.  These  two  fellows  were  burglars  in  a  small  way, 
and  burglars,  like  other  people,  get  a  great  deal  of  in  I'm  i  na- 
tion out  of  the  newspapers.  When  they  see  that  "John 
Smith  and  family  have  gone  to  the  Catskills;  the  house 
is  closed  for  the  summer,"  they  find  it  more  interesting 
news  than  the  latest  election  returns. 

"  Oh,  pshaw !"  the  younger  burglar  exclaimed,  as  bis  eye 
fell  upon  the  paragraph  about  the  boys'  telegraph  line — • 
only  he  used  language  better  suited  to  a  burglar  sitting  in 
a  saloon  ;  "  those  fellows  have  put  up  a  burglar  alarm." 

"What, at  the  three  houses!"  the  other  exclaimed.  "Let 
me  see ;"  and  he  snatched  the  paper  rudely  from  the 
younger  man's  hand.  "  Oh,  my,  my,  my !"  he  went  on,  after 
he  had  read  the  paragraph  ;  "  that's  the  neatest  thing  I  ever 
saw  in  my  life."  And  he  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and 
chuckled  as  merrily  as  if  he  had  been  an  honest  man. 

"  I  don't  see  any  tiling  to  laugh  about,"  said  the  younger. 
"  We've  spent  over  a  week  getting  the  lay  of  the  land  out 
there,  and  now  all  that  labor  is  lost.  We'll  have  to  try 
somewhere  else." 

"  Will  we  ?"  said  the  older  man,  chuckling  again.  "  You 
only  think  so  because  yon're  young  at  the  business.  Jest 
leave  this  thing  to  me.  my  child.  I  kuow'd  we'd  have  au 
easy  job  out  there,  but  I  didn't  think  they'd  take  so  much 
trouble  to  make  it  easier  tor  us." 

The  rest  of  their  talk  was  in  too  low  a  tone  to  be  over- 
beard;  but  about  one  o'clock  tin-  next  morning  Tom  Dailey 
and  Harry  Barker  were  both  aroused  at  the  same  moment 
by  the  furious  clicking  of  their  sounders.  "Td,""Hb," 
the  instruments  were  calling,  and  in  a  second  or  two  both 
buys  were  sending  back  the  answering, 

"  Ay,  ay  !     Ay,  ay !" 

"Help!  Burglars!  Jb,"  both  sounders  said  at  once. 
The  message  was  repeated,  and  then  all  was  still.  Evidently 
Joe  Bailey  had  left  the  key  and  taken  up  his  baseball  bat. 

It  was  quick  work  for  Tom  and  Harry  to  arouse  their 
fathers  and  tell  them  that  there  were  burglars  over  at 
Baileys'.  Hasty  toilets  were  made,  and  the  four  sallied 
out,  father  and  son  from  each  house. 

"Isn't  it  lucky   we  put  up  that  burglar  alarm!"  Tom 


"EVERYTHING'S   UPSIDE  DOWN    HERE,"   HE   SAID,    HOLDING   THE 

789 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


•whispered  to  his  father  as  they  hastened  across  the  areune. 
"Now  you  see  what  a  lot  of  use  it  is.  We'll  have  those 
burglars  just  as  sure  as  they're  born.  You  and  I  can  watch 
one  side  of  the  house,  while  Harry  and  his  father  watch  the 
other,  and  there's  no  possible  way  for  them  to  escape." 

Tom  was  suddenly  silenced  by  the  omiuous  click  of  a  re- 
volver. They  were  in  the  Bailey  grounds  now,  and  Mr. 
Dai  ley  had  caught  sight  of  two  forms  moving  among  the 
shrubbery. 

"Stop  there!"  Mr.  Dailey  said,  in  a  low  but  very  deter- 
mined voice,  his  cocked  revolver  pointing  at  the  two  forms. 
"  Stop  there !  If  you  move  you're  a  dead  man  !" 

"  It's  all  right,  Dailey,"  came  the  reassuring  answer. 
"I'm  Barker,  and  this  is  Harry  with  me.  We'll  capture 
those  burglars  over  at  Baileys'  if  we're  smart  about  it." 

Mr.  Barker  also  had  a  revolver  in  his  hand,  and  Harry, 
like  Tom,  carried  a  baseball  bat. 

"Now  I  guess  they  see  what  use  the  burglar  alarm  is," 
Tom  found  a  chance  to  whisper  to  Harry.  "But  say,  we 
must  be  careful  where  we  hit  them.  I  don't  think  we 
ought  really  to  kill  one  of  them;  better  strike  for  their 
shoulders  and  arms." 

In  a  minute  more  Tom  aud  his  father  were  stationed 
where  they  could  watch  the  front  and  one  side  of  the 
Bailey  house,  and  Harry  and  his  father  commanded  the 
rear  aud  the  other  side.  No  one  could  possibly  leave  the 
house  without  being  seen. 

The  strangest  thing  about  it  was  that  there  was  no  light 
in  the  house,  not  a  sound  to  be  heard,  no  sign  that  any- 
thing unusual  was  going  on.  After  a  few  minutes  the 
watchers  began  to  feel  uneasy  about  this.  Mr.  Dailey 
moved  cautiously  down  toward  the  other  corner. 

"Hey,  Barker!"  he  called,  in  a  suppressed  voice.  "Any 
signs  of  a  light  around  there?" 

"Not  a  bit," Mr.  Barker  replied.  "Not  a  sound  inside, 
either." 

"I  don't  like  that,"  Mr.  Dailey  said.  "There  may  have 
been  murder  as  well  as  robbery.  Keep  a  sharp  eye  out, 
and  I'll  give  an  alarm  at  the  front  door." 

Bang!  bang!  bang!  went  Mr. Dailey's  boot  against  the 
frontdoor.  No  answer.  Bang!  bang!  again. 

"Hello !"  said  Mr.  Bailey's  voice  at  the  second-story  win- 
dow. 

"It's  all  right,  Bailey,"  Mr.  Barker  shouted.  "We're 
Barker  and  Dailey,  with  the  two  boys,  and  we're  all  armed. 
You'd  better  come  down  and  open  the  door.  They  can't 
possibly  escape." 

"Who  can't?"  said  the  voice  at  the  window. 
" The  burglars," said  Mr.  Dailey.     "They  must  be  still  in 
the  house." 

"Wait  a  minute,"  said  the  voice  at  the  window.  Aud 
those  outside  heard  a  footstep  on  the  stair,  and  in  a  mo- 
ment the  front  door  was  thrown  open. 

Mr.  Bailey  had  a  revolver  in  his  hand  when  he  opened 
the  door,  aud  he  was  in  a  great  state  of  excitement,  though 
he  had  seemed  very  cool  when  he  was  at  the  window. 

"Everything's  upside  down  here,"  he  said,  holding  the 
lamp  above  his  head;  "hats  and  coats  all  gone  from  the 
hat- rack,  chairs  upset,  doors  left  open.  They  must  have 
been  all  through  the  lower  part  of  the  house." 

"I'll  go  into  the  dining-room  with  you  to  see  whether 
they've  got  the  silver,"  said  Mr.  Dailey.  "  They  may  be  in 
there  yet.  We  have  the  outside  well  watched." 

The  two  men  found  everything  in  confusion  in  the  dining- 
room.  Burglars  had  broken  spoons  and  forks  that  they 
suspected  of  being  plated,  aud  left  the  pieces  lying  on  the 
floor.  Bullet  drawers  had  been  pulled  open  aud  ransacked, 
and  all  the  valuable  silver  was  gone.  So  were  some  tine 
pieces  of  cut  glass,  aud  other  valuable  things.  Just  as  the 
two  meu  were  about  to  extend  their  search  to  the  kitchen, 
Joe  came  down  stairs,  rubbing  his  eyes. 

"I'm  afraid  we  are  too  late,  Joe,"  Mr.  Dailey  said,  " but 
your  message  brought  us  over  in  a  hurry." 

"  My  message !"  Joe  exclaimed,  thoroughly  awake  now. 
"  What  message,  sir  ?" 

"  Why,  your  message  by  telegraph,  telling  us  there  were 
burglars  in  the  house." 

Joe  looked  thoroughly  bewildered  now. 


"  But  I  have  sent  no  message,  sir!"  he  replied.  "  I  didn't 
know  there  were  any  burglars  in  the  house,  and  I've  not 
been  near  the  key  to-night." 

"How  is  that!"  Mr.  Dailey  exclaimed;  "you  have  sent 
no  message!  A  call  for  help  certainly  came  over  the  wire. 
Go  up  aud  look  at  your  instruments  as  quick  as  you  can, 
Joe,  and  see  whether  they've  been  tampered  with." 

Joe  struck  a  light  and  went  up  to  his  work-room,  and 
returned  in  a  moment  looking  more  bewildered  than  ever. 

"It's  very  strange,"  he  said,  "but  my  bell  IKIS  been  dis- 
connected, so  I  couldn't  have  heard  a  call  if  one  had  come. 
I'm  sure  I  left  it  all  right  when  I  went  to  bed." 

"Not  strange  at  all!"  Mr.  Dailey  snapped;  and  Joe  had 
never  heard  him  speak  so  sharply.  "  We're  a  park  of  fools, 
that's  all.  There  are  burglars  in  my  house,  at  this  minute, 
Bailey, unless  I'm  very  much  mistaken,  and  in  Barker's  ton. 
I  must  get  home ;  so  must  Barker." 

The  developments  of  the  next  ten  minutes  were  highly 
interesting.  Mr.  Dailey  and  Mr.  Barker  both  Lurried  to 
their  homes,  with  Tom  aud  Harry,  and  each  found  that 
burglars  had  been  in  his  house  while  he  was  away.  In 
each  place  the  work  had  been  done  in  the  same  way,  evi- 
dently by  the  same  men.  Hats  aud  coats  were  gone,  and 
all  the  solid  silver,  aud  the  cut  glass,  aud  many  other 
things. 

But  no  burglars  were  to  be  found  in  either  place.  They 
had  done  their  work  and  escaped. 

"This  is  the  most  mysterious  thing  I  ever  saw!"  Tom 
said  to  his  father,  after  they  had  searched  the  house  aud 
taken  account  of  their  losses.  "You  say  Joe  didn't  send  a 
call  for  help,  but  it  certainly  came  over  the  wire.  And  I 
don't  see  yet  how  you  knew  while-we  were  over  at  Baileys' 
that  there  were  burglars  in  our  house." 

'•Don't  you  I"  There  was  a  lot  of  sarcasm  in  Mr.  Dailey's 
tone.  "  I  should  think  the  inventor  of  a  private  burglar 
alarm  might  see  through  a  little  thing  like  that.  One  of 
the  burglars  knew  how  to  send  a  message ;  now  do  you 
see  ?" 

"  I  don't  quite  understand  it  even  then,  sir,"  Tom  an- 
swered. 

"Oh,  it's  plain  enough,"  Mr.  Dailey  explained.  "They 
knew  all  about  your  wretched  burglar  alarm,  aud  the  par- 
agraph in  the  paper  told  them  your  signal  calls.  They 
robbed  Bailey's  house  tirst,  then  disconnected  Joe's  bell, 
and  sent  out  the  call  for  help.  Of  course  they  knew  that 
we  would  hurry  over,  leaving  our  own  houses  unprotected. 
As  soon  as  the  call  was  sent  they  stepped  out  aud  came 
over  and  robbed  our  houses  at  their  leisure,  knowing  that 
we  had  gone  to  Baileys'.  I  suppose  they're  sitting  some- 
where now  laughing  at  us." 

Mr.  Dailey  was  quite  right  about  that.  The  two  bur- 
glars were  at  that  moment  dividing  their  plunder  in  an 
empty  barn,  and  laughing  over  their  work. 

"Give  me  a  private  telegraph  line  when  you  want  to  do 
a  job  up  slick,"  said  the  older  man,  handing  out  a  cut-glass 
pitcher,  "  specially  when  there's  a  newspaper  to  tell  you 
the  office  calls.  We  don't  have  such  luck  as  that  often." 

The  Westbridge  boys  have  learned  from  experience  that 
it  is  hardly  safe  to  ask  Tom  or  Joe  or  Harry  how  he  likes 
telegraphing;  aud  the  private  burglar  alarm  has  gone  out 
of  business. 


CORPORAL    FRED. 

A  Story  of  the  Riots. 

BY     CAPTAIN     CHARLES     KING,    U.S.A. 

CHAPTER     III. 

TI1HE  situation  along  the  line  of  the  Great  Western  at 
J_  four  o'clock  this  sultry  afternoon  was  indeed  alarming. 
"  No  violence,"  said  the  leaders  of  the  strike,  "  will  be  coun- 
tenanced, though  of  course  we  cannot  guarantee  that  it 
won't  occur.  Our  men  are  bitter  at  the  refusal  to  comply 
with  their  just  demands,  aud  they  have  thousands  of  friends 
and  sympathizers  whom  we  can't  control."  Whether  friends 


790 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


of  the  striking  switchmen  and  trainmen  or  not,  there  could 
be  no  question  about  the  number  of  so-called  sympathizers. 
They  swarmed  to  the  yards  from  every  slum  in  the  city,  a 
host  of  tramps  and  thugs,  vagabonds  and  jail-birds,  re-en- 
forced by  bevies  of  noisy,  devil-may-care  street  boys,  and 
scores  of  shrill  -  voiced,  slatternly  women.  The  men  who 
ventured  to  handle  switches  under  instructions  of  the  yard 
foremen  were  stoned  and  driven  off.  •  Loyal  train  hands 
who  had  refused  to  strike  and  came  ont  with  the  mail  and 
express  trains  were  hooted,  jeered,  and  assaulted,  despite 
the  deputy  marshals  and  the  widely  scattered  police.  Some 
strange  apathy  chained  the  city  authorities  and  its  battal- 
ions of  uniformed  and  disciplined  meu  who  were  held  in 
reserve  at  the  police  stations,  while  the  pitiably  small  force, 
distributed  by  twos  and  threes  along  ten  miles  of  obstructed 
track,  made  only  shallow  pretence  of  resistance  to  the  ef- 
forts of  the  mob  or  of  protection  to  the  objects  of  its  wrath. 
Mail  trains  and  some  few  passenger  trains,  heavily  guarded, 
had  managed  to  crawl  through  the  howling  throng,  and 
this  partial  success  of  the  management  served  to  fan  the 
flame  of  fury,  and  every  window  was  smashed  by  volleys 
of  stones  and  coupling-pins  iu  the  last  train  to  be  pulled 
through.  The  track  behind  it  was  suddenly  and  speedily 
blocked  by  the  overturning,  one  after  another,  of  dozens  of 
freight-cars.  The  rioters,  guided  by  graduates  of  the  yard, 
now  worked  in  most  effective  and  systematic  fashion.  There 
was  no  need  of  assaulting  switchmen  when  they  could  so 
readily  block  the  tracks.  The  last  train  got  iu  at  noon. 
At  2  P.M.  no  trains,  even  the  mails,  could  get  either  in  or 
out. 

Then  the  authorities  had  to  take  a  hand.  The  law  of  the 
United  States  prohibited  any  interference  with  the  carriage 
of  its  mails.  The  railway  officials  represented  their  tracks 
blocked  by  mobs  and  obstructed  by  overturned  cars,  spiked 
switches,  and  nnspiked  rails.  A  wrecking  train,  under 
guard  of  both  police  and  deputy  marshals,  was  pushed  out 
to  clear  the  way.  The  rioters  jeered  the  deputies  and 
cheered  their  friends  among  the  police.  The  work  was  at- 
tempted, but  was  not  doue.  Fifty  deputies  couldn't  cover 
four  miles  of  mob,  and  five  hundred  police  winked  at  per- 
sonal acquaintances  in  the  shouting,  seething  throng,  and 
contented  themselves  with  occasional  hustling  of  some 
manifestly  friendless  tramp  or  the  vigorous  arrest  of  some 
vagrant  boy. 

Prominent  business  meu  in  a  body  went  to  the  Mayor 
and  demanded  action.  Others  had  already  wired  the  Gov- 
ernor. The  Colonels  of  the  city  regiments  who  had,  of  their 
own  accord,  warned  their  men  to  be  in  readiness,  got  their 
orders  for  service  at  3.50  iu  the  afternoon,  and  at  4.45  Cor- 
poral Fred  came  bounding  iu  across  the  threshold  of  his 
home  to  kiss  his  mother  aud  sisters  good -by  and  hasten 
into  town  where,  ready  packed,  was  his  knapsack  with  his 
blanket,  uniform,  arms,  and  ammunition,  at  the  regimental 
armory. 

The  roar  of  the  multitude  at  the  yards  only  a  block  away 
rose  hoarse  and  vibrant  on  the  sultry  air.  The  dust  was 
sifting  down  in  smothering  clouds.  Drawn  thither  by 
curiosity  numbers  of  women  and  children  had  gathered  at 
the  upper  end  of  the  street,  aud  were  thronging  the  porches, 
-windows,  aud  even  the  roofs  of  the  frame  houses  that  cov- 
ered the  neighborhood.  "  What  ever  you  do,  mother,''  said 
Fred,  "  keep  away  from  the  crowd,  and  keep  the  girls  at 
home.  Has  Jim  been  iu  ?" 

"No,  he  hasn't  come  back,"  was  the  almost  tearful  an- 
swer. "  Your  father  said  he  would  try  to  find  him  when  he 
went  to  the  shops  after  dinner.  I  wish  he  had  kept  away 
from  those  meetings.  No  good  can  ever  come  of  such  riot- 
ing." 

"  I  haven't  a  moment  to  lose,  mother,"  said  Fred,  kissing 
away  the  tears  now  brimming  iu  her  eyes,  "  but  I  must  go 
across  the   tracks  to  get  to  the  cable-cars,  aud  he  may  bo 
there.     If  so,  I'll  try  to  make  him  promise  to  come  home." 
It  was  a  tearful  group  the  gallant  young  fellow  left  be- 
hind   him   on   the  narrow   porch,  as  he  strode  swift! 
the  street.     Some  fifty  yards  away  he  turned  and  waved 
his  hat  to   them,  then    disappeared  among   the   groups  of 
women    excitedly,   nervously    watching    the    proceedings 
The  throng  grew  denser  as  he  neared  the  while  cod  gates 


that  were  lowered  to  close  the  crossing  with  every  sign  of 
coming  train  or  switch  engine.  Ordinarily  they  were  ris- 
ing and  falling  and  their  warning  gongs  trilling  e\  ei\  CPi  |,er 
minute,  bat  not  once  this  long  June  day  had  their  while 
fingers  ceased  to  point  straight  to  the  /. -nith.  At  the  cross- 
ing a  solitary  and  perspiring  policeman  was  swinging 
loosely  his  club  and  occasionally  drawling  ''Conic,  get 
back  out  of  this,"  and  laying  benevolent  hand  on  the  near- 
est spectator;  but  where  one  fell  back  a  do/en  surged  fur- 
ward,  and  the  entire  crossing  was  in  the  possession  of  a 
throng  of  strike  sympathizers, among  whom  Fred  failed 
to  recognize  more  than  three  or  four  real  railway  men. 
Prominent  among  the  more  active  and  determined  at  the 
very  front,  however,  he  caught  sight  of  a  man  named  Far- 
ley, a  brakernan,  who  was  often  one  of  Jim's  own  crew. 
He  was  shouting  and  gesticulating  to  friends  in  the  second- 
story  windows  of  a  saloon  across  the  tracks,  a  rendezvous 
of  men  who,  at  ordinary  times,  rarely  drank  a  drop  of  liquor. 

The  ground-floor  was  invisible  to  the  throng.      "  Col nit 

here,  you  fellers,"  he  was  saying.  "I  tell  you  they're  go- 
ing to  try  to  clear  these  side-tracks,  aud  we'll  need  every 
man  of  you." 

Farley  was  right  in  his  prophecy.  The  managers  real- 
ized that  it  would  take  much  longer  to  right  the  over- 
turned freight-cars  than  to  draw  away  the  long  trains  of 
empty  or  half-loaded  cars  at  the  sides,  and  so  clear  a  track 
or  two  for  the  mails  and  passengers.  At  the  crossing  of 
Allen  Street  there  were  ten  parallel  tracks,  those  in  the 
middle — numbers  five  aud  six — being  the  through  tracks. 
Freight-cars  by  the  dozen  on  tracks  four  and  seven  had 
been  toppled  over  so  as  to  completely  block  all  four,  and, 
as  Farley  spoke,  down  the  long  vista  towards  thecity  and 
over  the  heads  of  the  throng  the  smoke  of  locomotives 
could  be  seen  puffing  steadily  towards  them.  With  car- 
loads of  such  guards  as  they  could  command — deputy  mar- 
shals picked  up  and  sworn  in  anyhow — the  railway  officials 
were  coming  to  make  the.  attempt.  Fred  had  reached  the 
spot  at  the  most  exciting  hour  of  the  day.  He  should, 
perhaps,  have  pushed  on  through  the  crowd  and  hastened 
on  to  the  cable  road,  but  it  occurred  to  him  that  an  ac- 
count of  the  situation  up  to  the  last  moment  might  be  of 
use  to  his  officers,  or  that  he  might  find  a  quicker  way  of 
getting  to  town  on  a  switch  engine.  Then,  too,  he  longed 
to  speak  with  Jim  and  get  him  to  go  home.  He  deter- 
mined, therefore,  on  a  few  minutes'  delay.  Ducking,  dodg- 
ing, and  squeezing,  ho  made  his  way  through  the  crowd  to 
Farley's  side. 

"  Jerry,"  said  he,  "  I  hate  to  see  one  of  Jim's  meu  in  this. 
Surely  he  aud  you  ought  to  keep  ont  of  the  yards.  Where 
is  he?" 

"  He  has  kept  out  of  the  yards  so  far,"  answered  Farley, 
with  an  angry  oath  and  glaring  eyes.  "But  the  time's 
come  for  them  that  are  men  to  show  it,  and  them  that 
don't  step  ont  and  fight  for  their  rights  now  are  skulkers 
and  sneaks  —  skulkers  and  sneaks,"  he  shouted,  and 
the  crowd  roared  approval.  Out  through  the  densely 
packed,  mass  of  humanity  across  the  tracks  something  came 
shoving  aud  surging,  and  presently,  welcomed  by  a  cheer, 
a  dozen  burly  men  burst  into  view  ami  came  striding  out 
upon  the  rig'ht  of  way,  .lim  Wallace'  among  them.  Pale 
with  excitement  aud  apprehension  Fred  sprang  towards 
him. 

"Jim — brother — think  what  you're  doing!  For  Heaven  s 
sake  take  no  part  iu  this  rioting!  Go  to  mother  and  the 
girls.  They're  all  alone." 

"Go  yourself,  Fred,"  answered  the  elder,  thickly.  To 
Fred's  dismay  he  saw  that  his  big  brother,  his  pride 
and  protector  for  many  a  boyish  year,  had  been  drinking, 
and  was  flushed  and  unbalanced  as  a  result.  "Go  your- 
self and  keep  out  of  harm's  way.  I'm  in  this  to  >ia\  now. 
I'm  not  the  man  to  see  my  brothers  wronged  and  abused 
and  robbed  of  their  rights.  Von  go  to  them.  Fled.  Why 
are  you  not  at  the  office?"  he  added,  with  sodden  suspicion 
in  his  glittering  eye. 

"I'm  here  to  find  you,"  said  Fred,  evasively.     "Mi  !'• 
is  crying  because   of   her   anxiety  about   you.      Falh. 
be,  M  searching.      Do  come  out  of  this,  .lim,  and  home   with 


791 


"JIM,  FOR   HEAVEN'S   SAKE   TAKE   NO    PART    IN    THIS    RIOTING!" 


But  a  yell  of  wrath  aud  defiance  drowued  the  boy's 
words,  and  as  though  with  cue  simultaneous  impulse  the 
mob  heaved  aud  surged  aud  broke  into  a  ruu.  The  en- 
giues  had  switched  to  the  side  tracks  a  block  away,  and, 
protected  by  armed  guards  ou  the  tender,  the  pilot,  and 
footboard,  were  coupling  ou  to  the  standing  trains.  Fred 
felt  himself  swept  along,  tugging  at  his  brother's  arm. 
Halt'  a  dozen  agile  men  edged  out  of  the  crowd  and  dove 
under  the  cars  to  which  the  foremost  engiue  was  now  at- 
tached. Shriek  went  the  whistle,  claug  the  bell,  back 
leaped  the  guards,  some  of  them  swarming  up  the  freight- 
car  ladders.  The  engine  jetted  smoke  aud  steam  and 
backed  promptly  away,  but  a  roar  of  triumph  and  derision 
went  up  from  the  mob.  Only  one  car  followed  it.  The 
strikers  had  drawn  the  coupling-pins  of  the  rest. 

Two  of  the  deputies,  Winchesters  in  hand,  had  clam- 
bered to  the  roofs  of  the  second  aud  third  cars,  aud  uow  as 
their  comrades  were  trundled  away  there  they  stood  irres- 
olute, lustantly  those  cars  were  the  centre  of  a  jeering, 
howling  mob.  Instantly  stones,  coupling-plus,  and  mud 
begau  to  fly.  Throwing  themselves  flat  upon  their  faces, 
the  luckless  fellows  sought  to  escape  the  storm.  Missiles 
hurled  by  the  mob  on  one  side  came  raining  down  into 
the  faces  of  their  fellows  ou  the  other,  aud  even  as  Fred 
was  imploring  his  brother  to  come  away  now  and  at  once, 
a  rock,  hurtling  over  the  nearest  car,  struck  the  roof  and 
bounded  into  the  throng  below,  cutting  a  gash  ou  the 
younger  brother's  white  forehead,  and  striking  him  sense- 
less to  the  earth,  just  as  some  untaught,  undisciplined  fool 
among  the  deputies  pulled  trigger  and  fired.  Whistling 
overhead  the  bullet  went  hissing  away  up  the  tracks  the 
signal  for  a  mad  rush  of  men  aud  boys.  Au  instant  more 
aud  only  three  forms  occupied  the  ground  where  a  huudred 
were  struggling  but  the  moment  before — Jim  Wallace  aud 


a  fellow  -  trainsman  beudiug  over  the  senseless,  bleeding 
form  of  brother  Fred. 

"They've  shot  him!  They've  killed  him!"  howled  the 
retreating  crowd.  "Down  with  the  deputies!  Kill  'em! 
hang  'em  !"  were  the  furious  yells.  Three  or  four  police- 
men came  running  up  to  assist  the  fallen.  Au  old  gray- 
haired  man  dropped  the  lever  of  the  switch  engine,  calling 
to  his  assistant  to  watch  it,  and  ran  forward  along  the 
tracks,  wild  anxiety  in  his  eyes,  and  in  another  moment, 
brushing  aside  the  bluecoats,  old  Wallace  threw  himself 
upon  his  knees  and  raised  the  blood-staiued  face  of  his  boy 
to  his  heaving  breast.  "  In  God's  name,"  he  cried,  his  lips 
piteously  quivering,  "how  came  he  here?  Why  is  he  not 
at  the  office  ?" 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence.  Covering  his  face  in  his 
hands,  big  burly  Jiui  turned  almost  sobbing  away.  A 
young  man  leaping  across  the  tracks  caught  the  last  ques- 
tion as  he  joiued  them,  aud  it  was  his  voice  that  was  heard 
in  answer.  "  Because  they've  discharged  him,  Mr.  Wallace, 
as  they  have  me,  for  obeying  orders  to  join  our  regiment  at 
once." 

And  as  though  recalled  to  his  seuses  by  a  comrade's 
words.  Corporal  Fred  faiutly  opened  his  eyes  and  looked 
up  and  saw  his  father's  face.  "Don't  let  mother  know." 
he  murmured.  "It  might  frighten  her  for  nothing.  Help 
me  over  to  the  cable  road,  Charley  ;  we've  got  to  hurry  to 
the  armory." 

Aud  the.n  the  crowd  came  swarming  back  even  as  a  little 
boy,  escaped  for  the  moment  from  watchful  eyes  at  home 
and  drawn  by  eager  curiosity  to  the  gates,  now  ran  sob- 
bing back  to  tell  the  dreadful  news  he  had  heard  among 
the  women  in  the  crowd — that  brother  Fred  was  shot  aud. 
killed. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


792 


OAKLEIGH. 


BY   ELLEN  DOUGLAS  D  E  L  A  N  D. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

NEAL  dropped  into  the  hammock  that  was  hung  across 
the  corner  of  the  porch,  and  waited  for  Edith  to  come. 
This  was  where  she  was  apt  to  sit  in  the  moruing,  with  her 
work  or  a  book. 

Bob  lay  on  the  grass  near,  panting  with  the  heat.  He 
had  just  had  an  exciting  chase  after  a  bird  that  would 
perch  occasionally  on  a  low  bush,  then  flap  its  wings  tri- 
umphantly, and  fly  away  just  as  naughty  Bob  drew  near. 
He  thought  it  a  most  mistaken  arrangement  of  affairs  that 
birds  were  able  to  fly.  Now,  disgusted,  he  had  apparently 
given  up  the  game,  but  lay  with  one  eye  open,  awaiting 
further  developments.  Presently  Edith  came  out,  followed 
by  the  children  with  their  toys.  She  had  her  work-basket, 
for  she  continued  to  take  care  of  their  clothes,  notwith- 
standing Mrs.  Franklin's  remonstrances. 

She  was  not  particularly  pleased  to  see  Neal  in  her  fa- 
vorite corner.  She  said  to  herself  that  she  would  like  to 
have  one  day  at  least  free  from  the  Gordons.  Edith  felt 
cross  with  herself  and  every  one  else  this  morning. 

Neal  rolled  out  of  the  hammock  when  he  saw  her,  and 
sprang  to  draw  up  her  -chair  with  extreme  politeness  and 
courtesy. 

"And  you  would  like  this  little  table  for  your  basket, 
wouldn't  you  ?"  he  said,  lifting  it  across  the  porch. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Edith,  mollified  in  spite  of  herself. 
Then  she  stiffened  again. 

"  Where  are  Ben  and  Chester  f '  she  asked,  with  a  severe 
glance  at  Bob. 

"  I  saw  them  around  at  the  side  door." 

"  It  does  seem  a  shame  that  they  should   be   banished 
from  the  front  of  the  house.     For  years  they  have  had  the 
use  of  this  piazza; 
and    now,  just    be- 
cause .Bob   chooses 
to    monopolize   the 
place,  they  feel  that 
they  must  go." 

"Very  foolish 
feelings,"  said  Neal, 
who  had  returned 
to  his  hammock.  "If 
they  only  had  a  lit- 
tle spirit  they  would 
soon  show  Bob  his 
proper  place.  Why 
•don't  they  give  him 
u  good  shaking 
when  he  nips  their 
Jegs  ?" 

" Because  they 
are  larger  than  he, 
.and  because  they 
are  too  polite  to  do 
it  in  their  own 
home." 

Neal  laughed.  He 
had  a  hearty,  conta- 
gious langh,  and 
Edith  could  not  re- 
frain from  joining 
in  it. 

"  They  set  you  a 
•very  good  example," 
he  said.  "  Come, 
iEdith,  confess  that 
you  hate  the  Gor- 
dons, from  Bob  up." 

Edith  colorrd. 
•"  How  silly  you 
are  !"  she  said,  with 
supreme  dignity. 
•"  Why  should  I 
trouble  myself  to 
dislike  you  ?" 


"  Why,  indeed?  There's  no  accounting  fur  tastes.  Tlicn, 
'love  me,  love  my  dog.'  But  I  say,  Edith,  it  rather  pa\s 
to  make  you  mad.  You  gi-ow  two  im-h.'s  visibly,  while-  I 
shrink  in  proportion.  It  is  just  as  if  you  bad  sonic  of  that 
cake  in  your  pocket  that  Alice  came  across  in  Wonderland, 
don't  you  know  ?" 

"  Oh,  Neal,  tell  us  about  it  !'' rrird  .Janet,  dropping  her 
dolls  and  flinging  herself  on  the  end  of  the  hammock.  "  I 
just  love  your  stories." 

"  It  is  more  than  can  be  said  of  your  big  sister,  Janet,  my 
child.  Bob  and  I  are  in  disgrace." 

"  Bob's  no  good,"  said  Willy  ;  ''  he  won't  play.'' 

"His  coat  is  too  thick,"  remarked  Xral.  "Bob  wishes 
it  were  the  fashion  to  wear  short  hair  in  summer.  I  say, 
Edith,  where  are  you  going  ?"  for  she  had  put  up  her 
work. 

"  I  think  I  shall  take  the  buggy  and  go  down  to  see  Ger- 
trude Morgan.  I'm  tired  of  it  here." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Neal,  meekly. 

"  Children,  you  can  stay  here,"  she  continued.  "  I  sha'n't 
be  gone  more  than  an  hour  or  two." 

The  children  did  not  object.  They  counted  upon  having 
Neal  for  a  companion,  and  he  was  all-sufficient. 

But  when  the  old  buggy  rounded  the  corner,  and,  instead 
of  coming  up  to  the  house,  rattled  down  the  drive  on  the 
farther  side  of  the  "  heater-piece,"  Neal  sprang  out  of  the 
hammock  with  a  bounce  and  ran  across  the  grass.  Bob 
wanted  to  follow,  but  he  ordered  him  back.  He  reached 
the  fork  iu  the  avenue  before  Edith  did. 

"You're  pretty  cool,  to  go  ott' this  way  when  I'm  going  with 
you." 

"  And  you  are  very  cool,  to  come  when  you  are  not  iu- 


THEN  THEY  STARTED  HOME,  CARRYING  THE  CUSHIONS  BETWEEN  THEM. 

793 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


vited,"  said  Edith,  wrathfully,  as  Neal  climbed  into  the  car- 
riage without  waiting  for  her  to  stop. 

"I  know.  It's  pleasant  to  be  cool  on  such  a  hot  day  as 
this." 

"Where  is  your  hat?" 

"I'm  under  the  impression  it  is  on  thehall  lable  ;  but  no, 
it  may  be  in  my  room.  On  second  thoughts,  it  is  probably 
in  the  cellar.  In  fact  — 

"  Oh,  hush !"  said  Edith,  laughing  involuntarily.  "  Where 
are  yon  going  in  this  plight  ?" 

"To  see  Miss  Gertrude  Morgan." 

"Indeed  you  are  not.  I  have  no  intention  of  driving  to 
Brentou  with  a  hatless  boy." 

"  '  Then  we'll  go  to  the  woods,'  says  this  pig  "  ;  and  seiz- 
ing the  reins, he  turned  abruptly,  as  they  reached  the  gate 
of  Oakleigh,  into  a  rocky,  hilly  lane  that  led  up  through 
the  woods. 

"Now,  isn't  this  jolly  ?"  said  he,  leaning  back  in  his  cor- 
ner of  the  buggy.  "Just  the  place  for  a  hot  day." 

"  Oh,  I  must  go  back !"  exclaimed  Edith,  suddenly.  "  It 
lias  just  occurred  to  me  you  have  left  the  children." 

"They're  all  right.  They've  got  Bob,  and  we  sha'n't  be 
gone  long.  Great  Scott!  what  a  road  this  is!  I  don't  be- 
lieve these  wheels  will  stay  on  long.  Why  don't  you  use 
the  s'irrey  ?" 

"Because  the  surrey  is  not  mine,  and  this  is." 

"So  that's  your  line  of  march,  is  it?  I  suspected  as 
much.  But  I  thiuk  you  are  pretty  hard  on  Hessie.  She 
means  well,  and  she's  not  a  bad  sort,  though  I  say  it.  as 
shouldn't." 

Edith  made  no  answer. 

"Why  don't  yon  try  and  make  the  best  of  things?  I  al- 
ways do.  It  doesn't  really  pay  to  do  anything  else." 

"  Very  good  philosophy.  But  if  you  have  come  out  mere- 
ly to  lecture  me  on  my  duties  as  a  step-daughter,  I  think  we 
may  as  well  turn  round  and  go  home  again." 

"  Oh,  come  off,  Edith !  You're  a  nice,  girl  in  the  main,  and 
I  think  it's  a  howling  shame  for  you  to  make  yourself  so 
mighty  offish  and  disagreeable  to  Hessie.  Why,  if  any  one 
ought  to  mind  it — her  marrying,  I  mean — I'm  the  one.  It 
makes  a  big  difference  to  me." 

"  Will  you  let  me  get  out  and  walk  home,  if  yon  have 
not  the,  grace  to  drive  me  there  ?  You  have  no  manner  of 
right  to  talk  to  me  this  way." 

"  I  know  I  haven't,  and  I'm  awfully  sorry  if  I've  offended 
you.  I'm  afraid  I  have.  You'll  forgive  me, Edith,  please! 
Don't  go  home.  I've  put  my  foot  in  it,  like  the  great  awk- 
ward  fellow  I  am.  But  I  hate  to  see  things  all  at  sixes 
and  sevens  the  way  they  are,  and  I  thought  perhaps  if  I 
told  you  what  Hessie  really  is  you  would  feel  differently. 
If  you  only  knew  what  a  good  sister  she's  been  to  me!  You 
know  our  father  and  mother  died  when  I  was  a  little  duf- 
fer, and  Hessie's  been  an  Al  sister  ever  since.  Our  grand- 
mother didn't  take  much  stock  in  me  because  I  was  a  boy, 
but  Hessie  always  stood  up  for  me.  It's  natural  I  should 
take  her  side.  I  hate  to  see  any  one  dislike  her.  But  I  see 
it's  no  use.  and  I'm  sorry  I  spoke.  But,  say,  you  will  excuse 
me,  Edith.  You  don't  like  it,  and  I  ought  not  to  have  said 
anything,  and  I  apologize." 

This  was  Neal  in  a  new  light.  Edith  was  astonished. 
She  had  supposed  that  he  was  only  a  rollicking  boy,  too 
lazy  to  amount  to  anything,  and  too  fond  of  a  joke  to  think 
of  the  more  serious  side  of  life. 

She  hesitated.  She  was  very  angry  with  him.  Of  course 
he  had  no  business  to  speak  to  her  on  this  subject,  but  he 
•was  evidently  sorry.  His  brown  eyes  looked  very  re- 
pentant, and  there  was  not  a  shadow  of  a  smile  in  them. 

"Come  now,  Edith,"  he  urged,  "  do  it  up  handsomely, 
and  forgive  and  forget.  Give  me  your  hand  on  it." 

And  Edith  did  so,  and  -with  difficulty  repressed  a  shriek 
at  the  hearty  squeeze  that  was  given  it.  And  just  as  they 
had  reached  this  point  in  their  conversation  there  was  a 
sudden  crash.  Off  went  the  wheel,  and  down  went  buggy, 
Edith,  and  Neal  in  a  heap. 

Fortunately  the  horse  stood  still.  They  were  in  the 
depths  of  the  wood,  two  miles  from  any  house.  A  few  star- 
tled birds  fluttered  among  the  trees,  and  a  gray  squirrel 
paused  in  his  day's  work  to  view  the  scene. 


Neal  and  Edith  crawled  out  from  the  debris. 

"Here's  a  pretty  how-d'y'  do," said  Neal,  surveying  the 
wreck.  "Edith,  I  greatly  fear  you'll  never  drive  in  that 
buggy  again." 

He  unhitched  the  horse,  and  then  removed  the  remnants 
of  the  vehicle  to  the  side  of  what  road  there  was,  and  par- 
tially hid  them  in  the  bushes. 

"  On  that  rock  we  split,"  said  he,  solemnly,  pointing  to  a 
big  stone  that  rose  high  above  a  rut.  "  If  I  hadn't  been 
so  busy  apologizing,  Edith,  we  wouldn't  have  gone  to  pieces. 
However,  perhaps  now  you  will  use  the  surrey." 

It  was  a  dangerous  speech,  but  Edith  tried  not  to  mind 
it,  and  she  helped  Neal  to  clear  away  the  stuff'.  Then  they 
started  for  home,  Ned  leading  Robin,  the  old  horse,  while 
together  they  carried  the  cushions  and  a  lap-robe  that  had 
been  under  the  seat. 

Neal,  his  spirits  raised  by  the  accident,  was  in  his  gayest 
humor,  and  the  quiet  air  rang  with  his  laughter  as  they 
trudged  home  in  the  heat.  Edith  quite  forgot  her  previous 
displeasure,  and  was  so  like  her  old  self  that  Neal  in  his 
turn  was  surprised,  and  thought  she  was  almost  as  nice 
as  Cynthia.  He  had  never  seen  her  in  this  mood  before. 

When  Neal  abruptly  deserted  the  children  in  his  pursuit 
of  Edith  they  were  at  h'rst  too  much  amazed  to  do  anything 
but  stand  perfectly  still  and  watch  him.  Then,  as  the  back 
of  the  buggy  disappeared  behind  the  trees,  their  wrath 
found  words. 

"Mean  old  things!"  exclaimed  Janet.  "They've  gone 
off  and  left  us,  an'  I  tickerlarly  wanted  Neal  to  tell  us  a 
story." 

Bob  joined  the  group,  his  tail  disconsolately  lowered. 
His  master  had  been  very  harsh  and  unfeeling  to  leave  him 
at  home,  he  thought.  The  trio  stood  in  a  row  on  the  top 
step  of  the  piazza.  Then,  with  a  feeble,  and  melancholy 
wag  of  the  tail,  Bob  again  stretched  himself  on  the  grass 
and  prepared  to  make  the  best  of  a  bad  bargain. 

The  others  were  not  so  easily  appeased. 

"  We've  got  uuffin'  to  do,"  grumbled  Willy.  "  I  wish  we 
could  play  wif  de  chickens." 

"  We  can't  do  that,"  said  Janet,  decidedly.  '•  We  can't 
touch  those  chickens  if  we  don't  want  a  terrible  spanking. 
You  know  what  papa  said." 

The  chickens  presented  a  powerful  fascination  for  Willy. 
He  was  revolving  in  his  mind  the  question  as  to  whether  it 
would  or  would  not  pay  to  be  spanked  for  the  sake  of  hav- 
ing some  fun  with  the  chicks. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Janet,  who  had  no  fancy  for  a  whipping. 
"We've  got  to  do  somethiu'  else."  She  paused.  Slowly 
a  gleam  of  mischief  came  into  her  eyes,  and  a  smile  broke 
over  her  round  and  rosy  face.  "Willy,  we'll  play  barber." 

"  How  do  we  do  it  ?" 

"  I  speak  to  be  barber.  Don't  you  remember  when  papa 
took  you  to  have  your  hair  cut?  Well,  you  be  papa  an' 
you  bring  Bub,  an'  we'll  cut  his  hair.  Neal  said  it  wastur- 
rible  hot  for  him.  Neal  '11  be  glad  when  he  comes  home 
an'  finds  it  all  nicely  cut." 

"Course  he  will.     Only  I'd  like  to  Tie  barber,  Janet," 

"No,  I  will.  It  is  my  game,  so  I  can  be  barber.  Get 
the  hat  and  be  papa." 

Willy  obeyed,  and  presently  returned  in  a  large  straw 
hat  that  had  once  been  his  father's  farm  hat,  and  was  now 
relegated  to  a  back  closet  for  use  in  the  children's  games. 
Janet,  meanwhile,  had  found  a  large  pair  of  scissors  in 
Edith's  basket,  unfortunately  left  on  the  porch,  with  which 
she  was  viciously  snipping  the  air. 

'•  We'll  have  some  fun  even  if  they  did  go  off  an'  leave 
us,"  said  she.  "  Bring  along  Bob.  Here's  the  chair." 

But  Bob  refused  to  be  brought.  He  lay  stretched  on  his 
side,  now  and  then  weakly  wagging  his  tail  in  response  to 
their  commands,  but  otherwise  not  stirring.  It  was  too 
hot  to  move  for  any  one  but  his  master. 

"We'll  have  to  do  it  there.  We'll  pretend  he's  a  sick 
person  that  has  to  have  his  hair  cut  off.  They  do  some- 
times, you  know,"  said  Janet,  with  an  air  of  superior  knowl- 
edge. "You  can  he  my 'sistant.  Here's  a  scissor  for  you" 
— extracting  another  pair  from  the  too  convenient  basket. 

In  a  moment  they  were  both  hard  at  work.     Suippity, 


T94 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


snip,  clip,  clip,  went  the  two  pairs  of  scissors.  Bob's  beau- 
tiful long  black  liair.  the  pride  of  Iris  master's  heart  and  the 
means  of  securing  a  prize  at  the  last  dog-show,  lay  in  a 
heap  on  the  grass. 

"That's  nice,"  said  Janet,  surveying  the  result  with  sat- 
isfaction. "He  must  feel  lovely  and  cool.  Now  let's  do 
the  other  side." 

But  that  was  not  so  easy.  Bob  still  refused  to  stir.  They 
pulled  and  punched  and  pushed,  but  he  would  not  turn  over. 

"  Well,  we'll  just  have  to  leave  it  an'  do  it  'nether  time," 
said  Janet  at  last, with  a  parting  clip  at  ear  and  tail.  "Let's 
go  down  an'  play  iu  the  brook." 

And  flinging  the  scissors  on  the  grass,  these  two  young 
persons  deserted  the  sceue  of  their  labors,  and  were  soon 
building  a  fine  dam  across  the  brook  in  the  pasture.  Tilde 
they  remained  until  the  sound  of  the  bell  on  the  carriage 
house,  rung  to  summon  to  dinner  the  men  at  work  in  the 
distant  fields,  warned  them  that  it  was  twelve  o'clock  and 
almost  time  to  go  iu  themselves. 

Edith  and  Neal  plodded  slowly  homeward.  It-  was  very 
warm,  for  though  it  was  not  suurjy  iu  the  woods,  the  trees 
shut  off  the  air.  They  turned  in  from  the  lane  and  walked 
.up  the  avenue,  Robin's  hoofs  falling  regularly  on  the  gravel 
•with  a  hot,  thumping  sound. 

"  Jiminy,  this  is  a  scorcher!"  said  Neal,  wiping  his  fore- 
head. "  Here  comes  Bob.  He  doesn't  seem  to  mind  the 
•weather.  No,  it  isn't  Bob,  either.  What  dog  is  it?  Great 
Scott,  Edith,  it  is  Bob!  What  has  happened  to  him?" 

He  dropped  the  reins,  and  Robin  trudged  off  alone  to  his 
stall. 

•'  Why,  Neal,  I  never  saw  such  a  sight !"  cried  Edith. 

Bob,  bounding  merrily  over  the  grass,  overjoyed  at  see- 
ing his  master  return,  was  quite  unconscious  of  the  effect 
he  produced.  On  one  side  he  was  the  same  beautiful,  glossy- 
coated  creature  he  had  ever  been  ;  on  the  other,  through 
stray,  uneven  bunches  of  hair  gleamed  touches  of  whitish 
skin.  His  ears,  which  had  measured  a  proud  eighteen 
iuches  from  tip  to  tip,  flapped  on  either  side  in  ungraceful 
scantuess  ;  and  his  tail,  from  which  so  short  a  time  before 
had  waved  a  beautiful  raveu  pluuie,  uow  wagged  iu  uncom- 
promising stubby  ness. 

"  Bob,  Bob,  what  has  happened  to  you  ?  You  look  as  if 
you  had  been  iu  a  fire .'" 

Edith,  with  an  awful  foreboding  iu  her  heart,  hurried 
towards  the  house.  Yes,  her  fears  were  realized!  Two 
pairs  of  scissors  aud  a  mass  of  black  hair  told  the  tale.  She 
sank  down  on  the  steps  aud  covered  her  face. 

"The  children  have  done  it," she  murmured.  "Oh,  Neal, 
•we  ought  never  to  have  left  them  !" 

Neal  stood  there  perfectly  silent.  He  had  grown  very 
white,  and  bis  eves  looked  dangerously  dark. 

"  Oh,  those  children  !"  he  said  at  last,  between  (irmly  set 
teeth.  "You  had  better  keep  them  out  of  my  way  for  a 
time,  Edith.  I'd  just  like  to  murder  them,  the  way  I  feel 
uow." 

"Oh,  Neal,  I  am  so  sorry!  I  can't  tell  you  how  dread- 
fully I  feel.  But  we  oughn't  to  have  both  gone.  You  see, 
I  didn't  know  yon  were  coming  too." 

"And  I  didn't  know  I  was  expected  to  act  as  child's 
nurse," said  Neal,  angrily.  "The  dog  is  done  for, as  far  as 
shows  are  concerned.  His  coat  will  never  be  the  same 
again;  it  ruins  it  to  cut  it."  He  stopped  abruptly.  "I 
guess  I  had  better  get  out  of  the  way,"  he  said,  pres- 
eutly.  "I  can't  answer  for  my  temper.  Come,  Bob." 

And  he  walked  down  across  the  grass  and  went  oil'  into 
the  woods. 

Edith,  left  alone,  began  to  cry.  She  would  not  have  had 
this  happen  for  the  world.  Again  she  said  to  herself,  why 
had  the  Gordons  ever  come  there  to  disturb  their  peace  of 
mind  in  so  many  ways?  And  where  were  the  children  ? 
They  should  be  severely  punished. 

She  looked  for  them  all  over  the  house,  but  of  course 
they  were  not  to  be  found.  After  a  long  time  she  saw 
them  coming  slowly  homeward.  They  were  wet  and  be- 
draggled, for  the  stones  had  been  as  obdurate  as  Bob  and 
refused  to  move.  Willy  had  tumbled  into  the  brook,  aud 
Janet  had  followed,  in  a  vain  attempt  to  help  him  out. 


And  now  they  were  met  by  an  irate  sister,  who,  seizing 
them  roughly,  dragged  them  upstairs. 

"  Yon  shall  go  straight  to  bed  and  stay  there  !  Yon  have 
ruined  Neal's  dog,  aud  he'll  never  get  over  it.  You  are  bad, 
naughty  children !" 

"I  think  you're  silly,  Edith!"  sereaiued  Janet.  "We 
didn't  hurt  him,  and  we  only  cooled  him  off.  You're  m.  an 
to  make  us  go  to  bed  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  an'  you'd 
orternot  drag  us  this  way.  Mamma  wouldn't." 

"Idou'tcare  what  your  mamma  would  do;  it's  what  I 
do." 

Edith  did  not  realize  that  a  few  words  spoken  calmly 
but  sternly  to  Janet  and  Willy  would  have  more  lasting 
effect  than  this  summary  mode  of  punishment  The  truth 
was  she  was  too  angiy  to  trust  her  tongue  at  all.  and  this 
reference  to  Mrs.  Franklin  annoyed  her.  Everything  seemed 
against  her,  aud  the  hot  weather  made  things  worse. 

She  ate  her  dinner  in  solitude,  and  then,  when  the  after- 
noon had  worn  on  for  an  hour  or  two,  she  at  last  saw  Neal 
coming  across  the  fields. 
Edith  went  to  meet  him. 

"You  want  something  to  eat, "she  said.  "  Conie  in  and 
I'll  find  you  something.  Neal,  I  am  so  sorry." 

"Oh,  don't  say  anything.  What's  done  can't  be  undone. 
Lend  me  your  shears  after  dinner  and  I'll  finish  things  up 
with  a  flourish.  I  can  get  him  into  better  shape  than  he 
is.  He  looks  like  Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  H\de  jn>t  now.  I'm 
as  hungry  as  a  hunter,  so  I  don't  mind  accepting  your  offer 
of  a  bi  te." 

Edith  went  off  to  find  something,  and  as  she  prepared  a 
dainty  meal  for  the  boy,  she  thought  to  herself  that  he  set 
her  a  good  example.  She  knew  what  pride  he  had  taken 
in  Bob's  appearance,  aud  she  knew  how  angry  he  had  been 
at  first.  It  must  have  been  a  hard  battle  for  him. 

And  it  was.  Edith  was  far  from  realizing  what  a  tem- 
per Neal  had.  He  had  felt  that  morning  that  his  only 
safety  lay  in  flight,  and  he  had  tramped  many  miles  through 
the  woods  in  the  endeavor  to  overcome  his  auger. 

After  luncheon  he  took  the  scissors  aud  set  to  work  upon 
Bob's  other  side.  He  could  not  repress  a  groan  of  dismay 
once  or  twice. 

"  If  they  had  only  done  it  decently !"  he  said.  ••  In  some 
places  it  looks  as  if  it  had  been  torn  out  by  the  roots,  they've 
cropped  it  so  close,  and  here  again  are  these  long  pieces. 
Well,  well,  Bobby,  my  boy,  I  fancy  we  were  too  vain  of 
our  appearance.  Here  goes !" 

In  a  short  time  Bob  had  the  appearance  of  a  closely 
shaven  French  poodle. 

Edith  watched  the  process  for  a  few  minutes,  but  pres- 
ently went  to  her  room. 

"  I  shall  be  held  accountable,  for  this  too,  I  suppose,"  she 
said  to  herself.  "  Oh,  icliy  did  those  Guidons  ever  come  ?" 

[TO    lilt    OONTINUKD.J 


BUILDING  OF  MODERN  WONDERS. 

THE   BOOK. 

BY    KIRK    MUNROE. 

A  LTHOUGH  we  are  apt  to  speak  of  the  "  writing  "  or 
A\-  the  "making"  of  a  book,  rather  than  of  its  "build- 
ing," each  of  these  is  a  distinct  operation;  and  when,  a 
book,  first  written,  then  made,  is  finally  ready  for  the  reader, 
it  has  been  built  as  truly  as  a  house  or  a  ship  is  built.  It 
has  demanded  an  equal  amount  of  careful  planning,  skilled 
labor,  and  close  attention  to  the  thousand  details  that  go 
to  the  making  of  a  completed  whole.  In  reading  an  inter- 
esting book  how  very  little  we  think  of  this,  or  reali/e  the 
amount  of  time  and  hard  work  expended  in  thus  ghing  us 
a  lew  hours  of  pleasure.  Most  people  consider  writing  to 
be  a  very  easy  method  of  making  a  living,  and  nothing  is 
more  common  iu  an  author's  experience  than  to  have  his 
friends  express  surprise  when  lie  .speaks  nf  going  to  his 
work. 

••  Work  '."  they  exclaim.    "  Surely  \  on  do  not  call  ii 
to  occupy  a  pleasant    immi   at    Imnie.and    wrih 
hours  each  day?    That's  mure  like  play  than  worU.     ! 


795 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


want  to  know  what  real  work  is,  come  with  us  and  see  what 
we  have  to  do." 

So  every  one,  except  those  who  know,  imagines  book- 
writing  to  be  so  easy  that  most  of  those  who  desire  to  earn 
a  livelihood  without  very  hard  work  try  their  hands  at  it. 
The  girl  of  brains  and  education  thrown  upon  her  own  re- 
sources decides  to  become  an  author ;  and,  after  a  desperate 
struggle,  fails  because  she  lias  no  real  experiences  to  draw 
from.  The  sea-captain  who  is  too  old  to  follow  his  chosen 
profession, but  nnist  still  make  a  living,  aud  is  brimful  of 
experience  and  adventures,  decides  to  become  an  author. 
When  he  too  meets  with  failure  he  blames  everybody  and 
everything  except  himself,  aud  rarely  discovers  that  the 
reason  he  cannot  become  a  successful  author  at  his  time  of 
life  is  because  he  has  not  been  trained  to  the  business,  and 
does  not  know  how  to  write. 

Authorship,  or  book  -  writing,  is  a  trade  that  must  be 
learned  the  same  as  any  other,  and  I  believe  that  any  boy 
or  girl  of  average  intelligence  may  be  trained  to  successful 
authorship  if  only  he  or  she  is  willing  to  work  hard  enough 
and  long  enough  at  the  trade.  Even  imagination  can  be  cul- 
tivated. Of  course  the  literary  apprentice  must  know  how 
to  apply  the  rules  of  grammar,  must  practise  clearness  and 
conciseness  of  style,  must  know  how  to  use  books  of  refer 
ence,  must  have  what  is  known  as  a  liberal  education,  and, 
above  all,  must  be  possessed  of  agenuine  liking  forhis  chosen 
calling.  After  leaving  his  school  or  college  he  should  spend 
at  least  two  years — and  four  would  be  better — as  a  re- 
porter, a  private  secretary,  an  amanuensis  to  some  skilled 
writer,  or  as  assistant  editor  of  some,  first-class  publication 
that  insists  upon  the  use  of  grammatical  English  in  its  col- 
umns. During  this  apprenticeship  he  may  try  his  hand  at 
sketches,  essays,  or  short  stories,  and  must  learn  to  accept 
calmly  a  dozen  disappointments  with  each  success. 

When  the  author  is  ready  to  write  a  book  his  most  dif- 
ficult, task  is  to  select  a  subject  that  shall  be  interesting, 
timely,  and  not  already  overdone.  It  must  be  one  that  he 
can  write  about  from  his  own  experience,  or  from  the  ex- 
perience of  others.  The  latter  may  be  gained  from  books 
or  from  the  verbal  accounts  of  those  who  have  been  through 
with  what  he  desires  to  describe ;  but  a  book  compiled 
from  other  books  is  apt,  to  be  dull  and  lifeless,  while  one 
dealing  with  a  personal  experience  is  almost  certain  to  be 
interesting.  "Mark  Twain's"  best  books  are  those  based 
upon  his  own  life  on  the  Mississippi,  in  Western  mining 
camps,  or  while  travelling  abroad.  The  great  charm  of 
Miss  Alcott's  stories  lay  in  the  fact  that  she  wrote  of  her 


STJTCIJING    THE    SHEETS. 


SETTING    UP    THE    BOOK. 


every-day  surroundings.  The  absorbing  interest  of  Cap- 
tain King's  Cadet  Days  is  due  to  the  author's  absolute 
knowledge,  from  personal  experience,  of  the  joys  and  sor- 
rows, the  trials  and  triumphs,  of  West  Point  life.  Thus  to 
be  a  successful  writer  of  books  one  must  have  something 
to  say,  and  must  know  how  to  say  it.  To  these  qualifica- 
tions must  be  added  tireless  industry,  boundless  patience, 
aud  a  determination  to  succeed  in  spite  of  all  obstacles. 

Let  us  suppose  that  our  author  decides  to  write  a  book 
for  boys,  and  to  make  it  a  mining-story.  But  he  has  never 
been  down  in  a  mine,  nor  even  seen  one.  He  knows  no- 
thing about  mines  from  personal  experience.  Under 

these  circumstances  it 
is  clearly  his  duty  to 
visit  the  nearest  min- 
ing region,  and  remain 
there  long  enough  to 
become  familiar  with 
its  life,  its  scenery,  and 
its  incidents,  before  he 
attempts  to  describe 
them.  From  such  a 
trip  he  returns  to  his 
workshop  with  a  thor- 
ough knowledge  of 
what  he  desires  to 
write  about.  Before 
beginning  the  actual 
work  of  •writing  he 
must  plan  his  book, 
decide  how  many  chap- 
ters it  is  to  contain, 
and  what  shall  be  their 
length ;  lay  out,  either 
on  paper  or  in  his 
mind,  the  general 
scheme  of  his  story  ;  se- 
lect a  name  for  his 
hero,  aud,  if  possible, 
decide  upon  a  title; 
fur  it  is  better  to  fit  a 
story  to  a  title  thau  to 
fit  a  title  to  a  story. 


796 


HAKPEK'S   HOUND   TABLE 


In  these  preliminaries  the 
author  has  invested  a 
month  or  more  of  time,  and 
lias  expended  a  certain 
amount  of  money.  In  oth- 
er wordB,]he  has  paid  for  the 
stock  of  goods  upon  which 
he  hopes  to  realize  a  profit. 
Now  he  is  ready  to  enter 
upon  the  building  of  his 
book. 

As  writing  is  among  the 
most  tiresome  and  exhaust- 
ing forms  of  labor,  it  should 
never  be  allowed  to  occupy 
more  than  eight  hours  of 
each  day,  and  the  best  re- 
sults are  reached  in  four  or 
five  hours,  followed  by  a 
change  of  employment,  re- 
creation, out-of-door  exer- 
cise, or  complete  rest  for 
the  remainder  of  the  day. 
Every  book  should  be  writ- 
ten twice,  the  first  draft  be- 
ing made  on  soft  unglazed 
paper  with  a  No.  2  pencil, 
while  the  second  is  a  re- 
vised and  punctuated  copy,  written  in  ink  or  type-written 
on  sheets  of  a  medium  size.  The  neatness  of  a  manu- 
script has  much  to  do  with  its  favorable,  reception  at  the 
hands  of  an  editor  or  a  publisher's  reader.  Some  authors 
do  not  write  at  all,  but  dictate  to  a  stenographer  or  an 
amanuensis;  but  this  requires  extra  practice,  and  is  gener- 
ally so  expensive  a  method  that  it  can  only  be  adopted  by 
those  who  have  an  assured  market  for  their  work,  or  are 
uot  obliged  to  earn  a  livelihood. 

At  length  our  book  is  written  ;  a  fair  copy  of  the  original 
rough  draft  has  been  made,  and  provided  with  chapter 
headings,  title  page,  and  table  of  contents.  The  precious 
manuscript  is  put  into  a  box  the  exact  size  of  its  sheets, 
sent  off  to  a  publisher,  and,  with  his  occupation  gone,  the 
anxious  author  waits  days,  weeks,  and  sometimes  mouths, 
for  news  of  his  venture. 

Very  few  publishers  have  either  the  time  or  inclination 
for  a  personal  reading  of  books  in  manuscript,  and  for  this 
work  they  employ  skilled  readers  upon  whose  judgment 
they  can  rely.  Some  houses  thus  retain  as  many  as  six 
Biich  readers,  and  very  often  a  manuscript  book  must  pass 
through  the  hands  of  all  these,  taking  its  turn  with  scores 
of  others,  before  a  decision  is  reached  concerning  it.  Each 
reader  hands  in  a  written  opinion  as  to  its  merits  and  de- 


IN    THE    BINDERY. 


PRESS-ROOM. 


merits, its  chances  of  success  or  failure.  Sometimes, if  these 
opinions  are  conflicting,  the  publisher  hands  them  all,  to- 
gether with  the  book  in  question,  to  a  seventh  reader — a 
sort  of  a  court  of  final  appeal — and  requests  him  to  write? 
an  opinion  on  the  opinions.  Even  if  all  the  opinions  are 
favorable,  the  publisher  may  still  refuse  to  bring  out  the 
work  in  question.  There  are  a  hundred  good  reasons  for 
declining  to  publish  a  book,  and  the  manuscript  must 
run  the  gauntlet  of  them  all.  It  may  be  too  long  or  too 
short,  or  too  similar  to  something  else  already  in  hand. 
Its  principal  characters  may  he  too  young  or  too  old.  It 
may  not  be  in  a  certain  publisher's  peculiar  line,  or  it  may 
contain  sentiments  of  which  he  does  not  approve.  He  m:iv 
already  have,  accepted  as  many  hooks  as  he  cares  to  issue 
in  that  year.  This  one  may  he  interesting  but  badly  writ- 
ten, or  it  may  be  beautifully  expressed  and  as  dull  as  dish- 
water. Thus  an  endless  list  of  "mays,"  "  ifs,'' and  "lints" 
present  themselves,  by  any  one  of  which  the  fate  of  the 
hook  may  he  influenced.  The  one  question  to  which  they 
all  lead  is:  "Will  it  pay?  If  so,  we  will  publish  it;  if  not, 
we  won't." 

Of  course  publishers  and  publishers'  readers  some) inn"- 
make  mistakes  concerning  the  value  of  a  book,  and  de- 
cline one  that,  in  the  hands  of  another  publisher,  or  brought 
out  at  the.  author's  expense,  achieves  a  tremendous  success. 
lu  fact,  there  is  hardly  a  popular  book  about  which  some 
tale  of  this  kind  is  not  told. 

Our  book  having  escaped  the  many  perils  that  beset  it, 
and  been  accepted,  the  publisher  makes  the  author  one  of 
three  offers  for  it.  He  will  buy  it  outright,  publish  it  siib- 
ject  to  royalty,  or  on  shares.  If  lie  buys  it  and  its  copy- 
right outright,  he  gives  an  unknown  author  for  his  tirst 
book  from  §1(MI  to  $400,  rarely  more ;  while  oilers  to  well- 
known  and  successful  authors  often  run  up  into  tin-  thou- 
sands of  dollars. 

If  the  agreement  is  to  publish  on  the  royalty  plan,  the 
offer  to  an  unknown  author  will  lie  that  of  a  tcn-pcr-eent. 
royaltvon  the  retail  price  of  his  book  after  nne  llnnisainl 
enpies  shall  have,  been  sold.  Il  ensls  from  .-.Inn  to  >."."ii  to 
publish  one  thousand  copies  of  I  In-  ordinal -\  one  -  dollar 
book.  One  hundred  or  more  of  these  are  given  to  editors 
or  critics  for  the  sake  of  the  adv  ert  ising  emitaiiu'd  in  such 
notices  as  they  may  \v  rite  a  lion t  the  hook.  The  remainder 
are  sold  In  the  trade  .-it  a  -lil-per-cent.  discount  from  tin-  re 
tail  price.  The  disposal  in  this  manner  "!'  IMIHI  ,-,,],i, 

] k  not  only  pays  the  cost  of  its  publication,  but  generally 

yields  a  small  protit  to  the  publisher. 

By  getting  a  onc-cloil.-ir  1 k    I'm-  sixtv    cents,  or  "forty 

off,"aa  tln-x  saj  in  the  trade,  the  dry -goods  -I  MI  vs.  vv  ho  now 
sell  a  great  many  books,  and  the  regular  retail  book.-. 


797 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


are  able  to  offer  it  at  65  or  70  or  75  ceuts,  and  still  make  a 
profit  ou  it;  while  at  the  same  time  the  publisher  is  obliged, 
by  his  agreement  with  the  trade,  to  charge  the  full  list 
price  for  every  copy  of  a  book  that  he  sells  at  retail.  For 
this  reason  it  is  generally  cheaper  to  buy  a  book  from  a 
dealer  than  from  the  publisher. 

If  a  hook  is  successful  enough  to  run  into  a  second  edi- 
tion or  reach  its  second  thousand,  which  very  few  first 
books  ever  do,  then  the  author  begins  to  receive  ten  cents 
for  every  copy  sold,  it',  however,  it  fails  to  pass  its  first 
thousand,  he  receives  nothing  for  his  labor,  except  tbe  ad- 
vertising of  his  name  gained  by  the  publication  of  a  book. 
A  well-known  and  popular  author  whose  work  is  certain 
to  sell,  bringing  out  a  book  ou  the  royalty  plan,  receives 
from  10  to  15  per  cent,  on  every  copy  sold  from  the  very 
first. 

The  copyright  life  of  a.  book,  or  the  time  during  which  it 
will  pay  its  author  a  royalty,  is  fourteen  years,  and  may  be 
•extended,  by  application,  fourteen  years  longer. 

If  the  publisher  and  author  agree  to  bring  out  a  book 
"ou  shares,"  it  means  that  they  shall  share  equally  all  ex- 
penses and  profits.  In  any  case  a  long  and  formidable 
contract  is  drawn  up,  which  both  parties  must  sign  before 
the  book  can  be  "put  in  hand,"  or  enter  upon  the  second 
stage  of  its  building. 

After  a  publisher  has  arranged  to  bring  out  a  book,  the 
questions  for  him  to  decide  concerning  it  are:  At  what 
time  of  year  shall  it  appear?  Whether  or  not  it  shall  be 
illustrated?  What  shall  be  its  size,  its  style  of  type,  the 
•weight  of  its  paper,  and  the  form  of  its  binding?  How 
many  copies  shall  be  printed?  How  much  money  shall  be 
•expended  in  advertising  it.  f  etc.,  etc.  Occasionally  the 
-author  is  consulted  einieerniug  some  of  these  questions, 
especially  in  regard  to  illustrations,  tor  which  he  is  some- 
•tiines  requested  to  furnish  photographs;  hut  more  often  he 
is  not.  The  publisher,  who  bears  the  expense  of  illustrat- 
iug  the  book,  generally  reserves  the  right  to  select  the 
-artist  for  this  work  as  well  as  to  decide  upon  the  number, 
•the  style,  and  the  size  of  the  pictures. 

There  is  so  much  art  in  the  making  of  a  book  that,  by  the 
aid  of  large  typo,  wide,  spaces  between  lines,  heavy  paper, 
and  broad  margins  a  small  manuscript  may  suffice  for  a 
large  volume;  while  by  the  use  of  small  type  set  "solid," 
thin  paper,  and  narrow  margius  an  immense  amount  of 
matter  may  be  compressed  into  very  small  compass.  As  a 
rule  the  large  or  medium-sized  volumes,  especially  among 
those  known  to  the  trade  as  "  Juveniles,"  sell  best,  for  there 
are  many  people  who  in  the  purchase  of  books  follow  the 
plan  of  the  Chinaman  in  buying  shoes,  and  select  the 
largest  size  to  be  had  for  the  money. 

After  forming  the  subject  of  innumerable  consultations 
'between  those  interested  in  its  success,  our  manuscript 
book  is  finally  "  put  in  hand,"  or  sent  to  the  foreman  of 
the  composing-room,  who  scatters  its  pages  here  and  there 
among  his  printers.  As  soon  as  half  a  dozen  or  teu  or 
twenty  sheets  have  been  "set  up"  or  turned  into  type,  a 
galley-proof  is  "  pulled  "  and  handed  to  the  proof-reader  for 
correction.  The  galley  is  a  long,  narrow,  brass-lined  frame, 
in  which  a  column  of  type  is  placed.  The  face  of  this  type 
is  inked  with  a  baud-roller,  a  long  strip  of  white  paper  is 
laid  over  it,  and  the  whole  goes  into  a  hand-press.  The 
printing  thus  done  is  not  very  iine,  but  it  is  plenty  good 
enough  to  enable  the  keen-eyed  proof-reader  to  detect  any 
errors  that  have  been  made.  He  marks  these  on  the  mar- 
gius of  the  proof,  and  hands  it  back  to  the  compositors,  each 
of  whom  corrects  the  mistakes  appearing  in  the  portion  he 
has  set.  There  is  no  more  interesting  sight  in  a  composing- 
room  than  that  of  a.  skilled  compositor  making  these  correc- 
tions, picking  out  and  replacing  the  little  black  types,  trans- 
ferring whole  lines  or  paragraphs  from  one  place  to  another, 
spacing,  leading,  punctuating,  without  dropping  a  type  or 
making  a  mistake.  The  untrained  eye  can  make  nothing 
at  all  out  of  the  type  column,  which  has  the  same  effect 
as  the  mirror  reflection  of  an  ordinary  page. 

After  all  corrections  are  thus  made,  another  galley-proof, 
called  a  "  revise,''  is  pulled.  Several  copies  of  this  are  made, 
two  of  which  are  sent  to  the  author  of  the  book.  There  is 
110  prouder  iior  happier  moment  in  the  life  of  an  author 


than  when  he  receives  the  first  proofs  of  his  first  hook. 
Never  again  will  they  appear  so  beautiful  or  so  precious, 
though  every  author  who  is  interested  in  his  work  always 
enjoys  reading  the  proofs  of  each  new  book,  no  matter  how 
mauy  he  may  write.  His  ideas  present  such  a  different 
appearance  in  type  from  what  they  did  in  manuscript  that 
lie  hardly  recognizes  them.  His  characters  have  attained 
such  a  dignity  and  reality  that  he  almost  needs  au  intro- 
duction to  them. 

On  this  galley-proof  the  author  makes  such  changes  and 
corrections  as  he  pleases,  though  of  course  the  fewer  the 
better,  and  then  sends  one  copy  back  to  the  composing- 
room,  where  all  the  alterations  he  has  suggested  are  made 
in  type.  The  galley  columns  are  now  broken  into  pages 
of  the  size  previously  agreed  upon,  and  a  set  of  page-proofs 
is  pulled  and  sent  to  the  author  for  his  final  revision.  He 
must  read  this  proof  very  carefully,  for  this  is  his  last 
chance  to  make  changes,  and  whatever  passes  this  time 
must  go  into  the  finished  book.  When  this  page-proof  re- 
turns to  the  composing-room,  and  the  final  corrections  are 
made  in  the  types,  they  are  sent  to  the  foundry.  Here 
stereotypes  are  made  from  them  in  the  manner  described 
under  the  title  "The  Making  of  a  Great  Newspaper"  in  Vol. 
XV.  of  HAKPEK'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE.  For  book-printing  these 
type-metal  stereotypes  are  converted  into  electrotypes  by 
being  hung  in  an  acid  bath,  where,  ill  a  very  short  time, 
by  the  action  of  electricity,  they  are  coated  with  a  thin 
film  of  copper. 

The  finished  plates  are  sent  down  to  the  basement  of  the 
great  building,  where  are  the  book-presses  that  will  turn 
out  printed  sheets  of  from  four  to  thiity-two  pages  each, 
almost  as  fast  as  the  huge  cylinder  presses  of  a  newspaper 
office  can  turn  out  newspapers. 

On  the  press  the  printed  pages  of  our  book  meet  and 
make  the  acquaintance  of  the  illustrated  or  picture  pages 
with  which  they  are  henceforth  to  be  so  intimately  asso- 
ciated. In  the  building  of  a  book  the  artist's  part  must  by 
no  means  be  overlooked,  for  a  well-illustrated  book,  espe- 
cially if  intended  for  youthful  readers,  like  the  one  we  are 
considering,  is  doubled  iu  value  by  its  pictures.  For  ordi- 
nary books  very  little  engraving  or  wood-cutting  is  now 
done,  since  by  the  aid  of  photography  and  electricity  so 
mauy  cheap  processes  for  reproducing  drawings  have  been 
discovered  that  the  slower  methods  of  the  engraver  are 
only  employed  for  the  very  best  and  finest  work.  If 
the  picture  is  to  be  engraved  it  is  either  drawn  directly  on 
the  wood  or  transferred  to  it  by  photography;  while  if  it  is 
to  he  reproduced  by  one  of  the  cheaper  processes,  it  is  pho- 
tographed on  a  prepared  plate  of  metal,  from  which  the 
light,  spaces  are  eaten  out  by  acids,  while  the  shadows  re- 
main untouched.  The  thin  plate  is  given  a  substantial 
wood-hacking  to  preserve  its  form,  and  is  then  ready  for 
use. 

From  the  press-room  the  printed  sheets  are  sent  to  the 
bindery,  where  they  are  folded,  once  into  quartos  (4tos), 
twice  into  octavos  (8vos),  three  times  into  sextodecimos 
(16mos),  or  into  any  other  size  that  shall  have  been  agreed 
upon.  Then  the  sheets  are  stitched  together,  pressed,  their 
edges  are  cut  by  powerful  machine  knives,  and  the  whole, 
fiually  glued  into  its  cover,  is  set  aside  under  pressure  to 
dry.  ' 

The  making  of  covers  is  a  distinct  branch  of  book-build- 
ing that  gives  employment  to  a  great  many  skilled  work- 
men and  workwomen.  The  most  conspicuous  of  these  is 
the  artist  who  draws  the  cover  design,  and  suggests  its 
scheme  of  color — for  the  sale  of  a  book  depends  very  large- 
ly upon  whether  or  not  its  cover  is  attractive.  Covers  are 
made  of  paper,  cloth,  or  leather.  Most  hooks  are  bound  in 
'•  cloth."  as  it  is  called,  which  means  pasteboard,  covered 
with  muslin  stiffened  with  siziug,  and  colored  a  uniform 
tint  before  the  design  is  stamped  or  printed  ou  it.  A  book 
bound  in  "boards"  is  enclosed  between  covers  of  paste- 
board, and  one  bound  in  calf  or  morocco  has  its  heavy 
pasteboard  covers  hidden  beneath  very  thin  sheets  of  lea- 
ther. The  inside  of  covers  is  often  made  of  "marbled" 
paper,  and  one  of  the  most  interesting  corners  of  the  bind- 
ery is  that  devoted  to  marbling.  Here  a  bath  of  gum-traga- 
cauth,  looking  like  a  mass  of  smooth  black  glue  newly 


798 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


melted,  lias  wet  colors  sprinkled  over  it  from  paint-brushes. 
These  are  drawn  iuto  lines  or  figures  \vitli  coarse  wooden 
combs.  A  dampened  sheet  of  paper  is  spread  over  tlie  col- 
ored surface,  quickly  withdrawn  thoroughly  "marbled, "and 
bung  on  a  line  to  dry. 

In  another  corner  of  the  room  busy  girls  are  applying 
gilding  to  covers  from  packets  of  gold  leaf;  while  else- 
where dozens  of  others  are  doing  different  and  equally  in- 
teresting things,  all  belonging  to  the  great  trade  of  book- 
binding. 

At  length  our  book,  having  passed  through  all  these 
stages  and  processes,  is  pronounced  complete,  and  a  date  is 
set  for  its  "  publication  "  or  presentation  to  the  public.  On 
the  day  that  it  appears  half  a  dozen  copies  are  sent  to  the 
author  with  compliments  of  the  publisher.  If  the  author 
wishes  any  more  copies  of  his  book  to  present  to  his  admir- 
ing friends,  he  must  buy  them  and  pay  for  them  like  any 
one  else. 

Thus  the  building  of  the  book  is  finished,  and  it  is 
launched  on  the  stormy  sea  of  literature,  to  sink  or  swim 
according  to  whether  or  not  it  has  been  constructed  of 
poor  material  by  incapable  workmen,  or  has  been  well  and 
wisely  built. 


CLOTH   OF  GOLD. 

CLOTH  of  ermine  covered 
The  earth  awhile  ago, 
A  royal  robe  oil  every  hill; 

In  every  valley  low 
The  sparkle  as  of  diamonds, 

The  sheen  of  dancing  light, 
And  the  world  a  fairy  palace 
By  dawn  and  noon  and  night. 

Cloth  of  gold  is  woven 

To  wrap  the  earth  to-day, 
With  stars  of  many  twinkling  rays, 

Broadcast   upon  the  way. 
The  dandelions  laughing, 

The  daisies  coming  soon, 
And  the  world's  a  fairy  palace 

By  morn  and  night  and  noon.          M.  E.  S. 


ON   BOARD   THE   ARK.* 

BY   ALBERT  LEE. 


CHAPTER    f. 

T  took  a  long  time  for  Tommy  Tod- 
dles to  recover  from  the  exquisite 
sensation  of  surprise  and  wonder 
which  clung  to  him  after  his 
strange  adventures  with  the 
Sheep  and  the  ex -Pirate.  He 
used  to  talk  to  his  Uncle  Dick  con- 
tinually of  what  he  had  seen  and 
done  during  that  famous  after- 
noon, and  many  and  many  a  time 
the  two  went  out  into  the  woods 

together  and  searched  through  the  bushes  and  the  trees 
for  the  haunt  of  the  Loon,  and  for  the  lake  by  the  side  of 
which  had  stood  the  Poor-house.  But  they  never  found 
anything;  and  Tommy  was  consequently  forced  to  sit  at 
home  and  content  himself  with  recollections  and  reminis- 
cences—" which  are  decidedly  unsatisfactory  substitutes," 
thought  he. 

So  it  frequently  happened  that  the  little  boy  sat  all  alone 
in  the  big  room  at  the  top  of  the  house,  and  went  over  and 
over  again  in  his  mind  those  peculiar  incidents  in  which 
so  many  strange  creatures  had  figured,  and  in  which  so 
many  odd  things  had  been  said  and  done.  But  one  raiin 
day  he  seemed  to  be  more  aftected  by  those  reminiscences 

*  "  On  Board  the  Ark  "  is  a  sequel  to  "  The  Strange  Adventures 
of  Tommy  ToJdles,"  which  began  in  No.  790. 


than  he  had  ever  been  before,  and  so  he  settled  back  on 
the  window-seat,  and  gave  himself  up  entirely  to  thoughts 

of  the  ex-Pirate,  the  SI p,  the.  Reformed  Burglar,  and  to 

all  the,  quaint  creatures  of  his  acquaintance.  He  was  smil- 
ing quietly  to  himself  at  some  of  the  funny  things  Thing- 
Mini,  ob  had  said  on  the  beach,  when  all  of  a  siiddi-n  lie 
thought  he  heard  somebody  knocking  on  the  door.  Nobody 
ever  knocked  before  coming  into  Tommy's  play-room,  and 
so  the  little  boy  looked  up  in  a  curious  \\  a\ ,  wondering 
who  it  could  be,  and  wishing  that  no  one  would  come  in 
to  disturb  his  reverie.  The  door  was  ajar,  bnl  be  could  see 
that  there  was  some  person  standing  out  in  the  hall.  Pre- 
sently there  was  another  knock.  Tummy  straightened  up 
on  the  window-seat,  and  called  out, 

"  Come  in !" 

The  door  swung  slowly  in  ward,  and  who  should  be  stand- 
ing there  looking  straight  at  Tommy  but  his  old  friend  the 
ex-Pirate  !  It  was  the  same  old  ex-Pirate  of  days  and  da\  9 
ago,  with  his  fierce  mustaches  and  long  hair,  and  his  big 
pistols  sticking  out  of  his  sash.  He  looked  at  Tommy  for 
a  moment,  just  as  if  he  wanted  to  make  sure  that  he  was 
calling  on  the  right  little  boy, and  then  a  pleasant  smile 
spread  all  over  his  face,  and  he  walked  rapidly  across  the 
room.  Tommy  jumped  from  the  window-seat  and  hastened 
to  meet  him. 

"Why,  I'm  awfully  glad  to  see  you!"  he  exclaimed. 
"How  do  you  do, Mr. ex-Pirate ?  And  how  did  von  get  up 
here?" 

The  ex-Pirate  laughed,  and  shook  hands  with  Tommy, 
and  then  he  said  :  "Oh,  I  just  came.  Things  come  and  go. 
you  know;  and  I  just  came.  Wasn't  it  nice?" 

"Awfully  nice,"  said  Tommy,  enthusiastically.  "I've 

1 n  thinking  a  lot  about  yon.  I  was  beginning  to  think 

you  were  not  real." 

"  Oh  yes,  I'm  real,"  asserted  the  ex-Pirate.  "Just  as  real 
as  you  are." 

"Perhaps  I'm  not  real."  suggested  Tommy;  and  then, 
becoming  alarmed  at  the  thought,  he  felt  in  his  pockets, 
and  pulled  at  his  hair  to  see  if  he  was  all  there.  Reas- 
sured on  that  point  he  added,  "  Where  is  the  Sheep  ?" 

"I  guess  he's  running  yet,"  answered  the  ex -Pirate, 
laughing.  "Poor  fellow;  I  left  him  'way  behind.  But  I 
never  saw  anybody  run  like  you  in  all  my  life.  Yon  ran 
faster  than  Time,  and  Time  runs  pretty  fast  now,  I  tell  you ! 
He  can  go  pretty  near  as  fast  as  Money — and  you  know 
how  fast  Money  goes." 

Tommy  did  not  know  how  fast  money  went,  because  he 
had  never  seen  very  much  of  it,  but  he  thought  that,  from 
the  nature  of  his  past  business,  the  ex-Pirate  must  have 
had  wide  experience  in  those  matters.  So  he  said,  "I  sup- 
pose so." 

"That's  right,"  continued  the  ex-Pirate.  "That's  per- 
fectly right.  But  I  ran  as  fast  as  I  could,  and  I've  only 
just  arrived." 

"  You  must  be  tired,"  remarked  the  little  b,.\ . 

"  Not  at  all.  I  never  get  tired.  I'm  ready  to  keep  right 
on,  if  you  want  to." 

"  Keep  right  on  ?"  queried  Tommy. 

"Yes." 

"On  what?" 

"Why,  looking  for  the  animals,"  replied  the  ex-Pirate. 

"  But  I  found  them."  said  Tommy. 

"  You  did?" exclaimed  the  ex-Pirate,  in  surprise. 

"  Certainly.     They  were  right  here." 

"Where?" 

"  Right  in  this  room." 

'•  Well,  where  arc  they  now  ?" 

Tommy  Toddles  would  have  given  bis  word,  fifteen  min- 
utes before  the  ex-Pirate  asked  bun  this  question,  that  his 
Noah's  Ark  with  the  animals  in  it  was  on  the  lloor  near  the 
table;  but  when  he  went  to  look  for  it  to  show  it  Lo  bis 
friend  he  could  not  find  it  anywhere. 

"  It's  gone,"  he  said  finally,  alter  several  minutes  of  vain 
seaiehing  under  tables  and  sofas.  "  It 's  gone,  and  all  the 
animals  too." 

"They've  gone  .'"  repeated  the  ex-Pirate. 

"Yes."  said  Tomm\.  dejectedly,  "they've  gone  away 
again.  Not  only  the  animals,  but  the  AiL.' 


799 


HARPEE'S   EOUND   TABLE 


THROUGH    THK    HALLS    OF    TIME. 


"The  Ark!"  exclaimed  the  ex-Pirate. 

"  Certaiuly,"  said  Tommy.  "  My  animals  belonged  in  the 
Ark.  There  were  two  of  each." 

"  In  Noah's  Ark  ?"  said  the  ex-Pirate. 

"Yes;  did  yon  never  see  one?" 

"Why,  what  nonsense!"  laughed  the  ex-Pirate.  "That 
was  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  years  ago." 

"I  know  it  was,"  said  Tommy,  with  dignity.  "But  my 
animals  were  imitations." 

The  ex-Pirate  was  gazing  absent-mindedly  out  of  the 
window  over  toward  the  ocean.  "Your  animals  had  invi- 
tations?" he  said  presently,  recovering  himself.  "Of 
course.  They  all  did.  The  Ark  was  no  promiscuous  affair. 
There  was  admission  by  card  only.  All  those  that  had  in- 
vitations got  in;  the  others  got  drowned." 

Tommy  saw  that  the  ex-Pirate  did  not  quite  understand 
what  he  had  said  to  him,  so  he  thought  it  would  be  wiser 
to  branch  out  on  some  other  topic,  but  before  he  could  do 
so  his  visitor  remarked, 

"They  had  lots  of  fun  in  the  Ark,"  and  he  chuckled  to 
himself. 
•  "  How  do  you  know  ?"  asked  the  little  boy. 

"The  Sheep  told  me.  He  was  one  of  the  Few  Hundred. 
I  should  like  to  have  been  on  board  too." 

"So  should  I,"  assented  Tommy,  eagerly,  "especially  if 
they  were  all  as  nice  as  the  animals  we  met  the  other  day." 

"It  would  have  been  fun  to  take  that  trip,"  continued 
the  ex-Pirate,  musingly.  "I  don't  know  bnt  that  we  can, 
•even  now,  fix  it  to  go  on  board." 

"On  board  the  Ark  ?"  cried  Tommy. 

"Exactly.  We  would  have  to  go  a  long  way  back 
through  the  Ages;  but  perhaps  we  can  fix  that  up  with 
old  Father  Time.  He  might  take  us  back  and  let  us  go 
aboard." 

Tommy  stared  vacantly  at  his  peculiar  companion,  and 
wondered  silently  if  he  had  gone  mad.  Pretty  soon  the  ex- 
Pirate  said, 

"  Let's  go." 

"  Where  ?" 

"  On  board  the  Ark." 

"How  shall  we  do  it?"  asked  Tommy,  who  felt  that  it 
•could  do  no  harm  to  humor  his  caller. 


"We  will  find  Father 
Time,  and  see  if  he  will  go 
backwards  for  us.  Where 
is  the  clock?" 

"  In  the  hall  down  stairs," 
answered  the  little  boy. 

The  two  went  out  into 
the  corridor  and  down  the 
stairs  to  where  the  old 
Dutch  clock  stood  under 
the  staircase,  ticking  loud- 
ly through  the  silent  house. 
It  was  much  taller  than 
either  Tommy  or  the  ex- 
Pirate,  and  as  they  ap- 
proached the  little  boy  was 
amazed  to  see  the  clock's 
face  brighten  up  and  smile, 
and  wave  its  hands  in  greet- 
ing to  the  ex-Pirate.  The 
latter  returned  the  courte- 
ous salute,  and  knocked  ou 
the  door  below.  The  door 
immediately  opened,  and 
old  Father  Time,  with  his 
scythe  and  his  hour-glass, 
stepped  out  into  the  hall- 
way, and  nodded  cheerfully 
to  the  ex-Pirate. 

"  How  do  you  do  ?"  said 
he. 

"Sixty  seconds  to  the 
minute  as  usual,"  answered 
Father  Time,  genially. 
"  What  can  I  do  for 
you  ?" 

"Can  you  go  back  a  little?"  asked  the  ex-Pirate,  in- 
quiringly. 

"  What  for  ?"  asked  Father  Time. 

And  then  the  ex-Pirate  started  in  to  explain  what  lie 
wanted.  His  argument  was  most  involved,  and  Tommy 
Toddles  could  not  follow  it  at  all ;  but  the  latter  kept  on 
talking  as  fast  and  as  impressively  as  he  could,  and  occa- 
sionally he  pulled  out  his  pistols  and  shook  them  vigor- 
ously in  the  air  over  his  head.  Father  Time  listened  atten- 
tively, and  shook  his  head  negatively  for  a  long  time,  but 
finally  he  appeared  to  yield  to  the  ex- Pirate's  persuasive 
arguments,  and  when  he  spoke  he  said  he  would  do  what 
was  wanted. 

"Will  you  go?"  said  the  ex-Pirate,  turning  quickly  to 
Tommy.  The  little  boy  hesitated  a  moment,  because  he 
did  not  know  exactly  where  the  ex-Pirate  wanted  him  to 
go,  or  how  long  he  would  be  gone  if  he  went;  he  hesitated, 
but  it  was  only  for  a  moment,  because  he  soon  noticed  that 
Father  Time  was  growing  impatient,- and  the  ex- Pirate 
looked  slightly  displeased  at  the  delay. 
"Oh  yes,  I'll  go,"  he  said,  impulsively. 
He  had  hardly  spoken  these  words  when  Father  Time  si  ling 
his  scythe  and  his  hour-glass  over  his  shoulders,  grabbed 
the  ex-Pirate  with  one  hand  and  seized  Tommy  with  the 
other.  Then  the  old  Dutch  clock  began  burring  and  whiz- 
zing, as  if  all  the  wheels  were  revolving  as  fast  as  they 
could  turn  ;  and  they  must  have  been,  for  when  Tommy 
glanced  at  the  face  of  the  clock  to  see  what  the  hour  was 
the  hands  were  racing  around  so  fast  that  he  could  hardly 
see  them — and  they  were  turning  in  the  opposite  direction 
from  the  way  clock  hands  usually  travel.  There  was  no 
time  to  notice  this  slight  peculiarity,  however,  for  the  little 
boy  felt  himself  rudely  jerked  off  his  feet,  held  firmly  by 
the  tight  grasp  of  Father  Time,  and  before  he  could  exclaim 
or  object  or  expostulate,  he  saw  himself  flying  through 
space  at  what  seemed  to  be  the  rate  of  many  hundreds  of 
miles  a  minute.  Father  Time  was  vigorously  working  his 
wings,  and  was  speeding  backwards,  his  long  gray  beard 
flowing  in  the  wind  between  Tommy  and  the  ex-Pirate, 
who  were  sticking  out  straight  behind,  and  neither  of 
whom  had  breath  enough  left  to  he  able  to  say  anything. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


800 


SlNTERSCHOEASTICe! 


A  LTHOUGH  IT  MAY  HAVE  BEEN  a  surprise  to  many  to  see 
_ii-  Whitman  play  bis  way  through  to  the  finals  at  the 
Longwood  Tournament  last  week,  his  success  was  hardly  un- 
expected by  those  who  have  been  watch- 
ing his  work  siuce  his  defeat  by  Ware  on 
Jarvis  Field  in  May.     Ware  earned  the 
championship  of  the  Boston  schools  on 
that  occasion,  and  he  had  to  play  hard 
to  do  it,  defeating  Whitman  6-4,  6-3, 7-5, 
but  since  that  time  his  game  seetns  to 
have  fallen   off  slightly,  whereas  Whit- 
man's has  vastly  improved.     He  let  the 
champion    take   the    first  set   of  their 
match,  6-3,  but  in  the  three  that  follow- 
ed, Ware  only  pulled  out  five  games. 


counter  such  a  change  in  his  rival's  methods.  Whitman 
certainly  showed  greater  confidence  in  himself  than  he  did 
on  Jarvis  Field,  and  was  much  more  at  home  at  the  net. 


Field.  Cbapman. 

(Captaio.)     Parkhurat. 


Cady. 


IT      CANNOT     BE    SAID,  HOWEVER,  that 

Ware  played  poor  teuuis,  for  that  was 
by  110  means  the  case.  He  played  well — 
he  certainly  had  to  play  well  to  reach 
the  semi-finals— but  Whitman  played  bet- 
ter. Again  and  again,  especially  during 
the  first  part  of  the  match,  Ware  passed 
his  opponent  at  the  net,  which  is  Whit- 
man's strong  position.  That  kind  of  play 
won  him  the  first  set;  but  Whitman 
braced  after  that,  and  closed  up,  and 
although  Ware  got  the  balls  over  the 
net.  he  could  not  pass  him.  Ware  lacked 
head-work  in  placing.  He  seemed  to  lose 
much  of  his  coolness  as  soon  as  Whit- 
man came  up  to  him,  and  instead  of  lob- 
bing, as  he  ought  to  have  done,  or  of 
going  up  to  the  net  himself,  he  placed 
the  balls  frequently  to  his  opponent's 
advantage  and  to  his  own  discomfiture.  I  had  expected  to 
see  Ware  put  up  a  strong  offensive  game,  but  his  play  was 
mostly  defensive.  He  had  evidently  not  expected  to  eu- 


HARTFORD  HIGH-SCHOOL  TRACK -ATHLETIC  TEAM. 
Champions  o£  the  Connecticut  High-School  Athletic  Association. 


IT  MAY  BE  THAT  SOME  of  Ware's  weakness  was  due  to  his 
lack  of  practice,  as  he  injured  his  wrist  in  June  and  did 
not  touch  a  racquet  for  four  weeks;  hut  I  doubt  if  he  could 


L.  E.  Ware,  umpiring. 


Hovey. 


FINAL   MATCH    OF   THE   LONGWOOD   TENNIS   TOURNAMENT. 
801 


HAEPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


have  defeated  Whitman  at  Longwood,  even  if  he  had  been 
in  the  form  that  made  him  champion  at  the  Interscholas- 
tics.  He  will  have  to  do  some  hard  work  between  now 
and  the  date  of  the  Newport  Tournament  if  he  wishes  to 
hold  his  own  there.  He  must  pull  himself  together  and 
keep  from  falling  into  that  listless  style  of  play  which 
proved  so  disastrous  to  him  in  the  last  two  sets  against 
Whitman.  The  latter  now  stands  a  good  chance  of  carry- 
ing oft'  the  honors  of  the  year,  if  present  form  may  be  de- 
pended upon  to  be  prophetic.  He  has  beaten  at  Longwood 
ineu  who  were  considered  his  superiors,  and  he  only  met 
defeat  at  the  hands  of  a  man  who  is  rated  as  the  fourth 
player  in  the  United  States. 

THE  HovEY-Wm T.MAN  MATCH  was  one  of  the  most  in- 
teresting of  the  week,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  it  was  evi- 
dent from  the  start  that  the  school  player  was  outclassed. 
This  fact  might  not  have  been  so  patent  if  Whitman  had 
kept  his  nerve  better,  but  he  seemed  to  be  afraid  of  his  an- 
tagonist from  the  very  outset,  and  did  not  put  up  anywhere 
near  so  good  a  game  as  he  did  against  Ware.  Hovey  ap- 
parently realized  this  weakness,  and  kept  close  up  to  the 
net.  Whitman  made  his  greatest  mistake  in  falling  back, 
for  Hovey's  net  game  is  hard  to  beat.  This  also  gave 
the  champion  an  opportunity  to  do  some  sharp  volleying 
with  a  stitf  wrist  and  forearm — strokes  that  the  younger 
player  was  unable  to  return.  Occasionally  Whitman  made 
some  brilliant  plays,  but  he  was  overshadowed  by  the  vet- 
eran. 

HOVET  TOOK  THE  FIRST  FOUR  GAMES  Lllgely  On  his  op- 
pouent's  nervousness,  but  in  the  fifth  he  drove  out  of  court 
twice,  and  Whitman  got  in  a  first -rate  side-line  place. 
Thus  with  the  score  40-15  in  his  favor  he  ought  to  have 
taken  the  game,  but  he  let  Hovey  pull  it  up  to  deuce,  and 
then  he  drove  out,  giving  Hovey  vantage,  which  was  fol- 
lowed by  a  hot  rally,  ending  in  a  sharp  stroke  that  Whit- 
man was  unable  to  reach.  In  this  set  Whitman  made  but 
ten  points  to  Hovey's  twenty-six,  and  not  until  the  third 
game  of  the  second  set  did  the  Interseholastic  player  se- 
cure a  game.  Even  this  was  somewhat  of  a  gift,  for  Hovey 
started  in  with  a  double  fault  and  then  drove  into  the  net. 
The  fifth  game  showed  some  pretty  rocky  playing  on  both 
sides,  but  Whitman  finally  secured  his  vantage  on  a  clever 
side-line  place,  and  made  game  on  Hovey's  wild  drive  out 
of  court.  The  sixth  game  of  this  set  was  also  deuce — for 
Whitman  was  doing  his  best  work  at  this  juncture — but  it 
went  to  Hovey,  who,  having  coaxed  his  opponent  into  back 
court,  dropped  a  teaser  just  over  the  net.  The  set  score  was 
38—28,  the  closest  of  the  match. 

IN  THE  LAST  SET  Whitman  began  to  lose  some  of  the  timid- 
ity which  had  characterized  his  play  up  to  this  point,  and 
in  the  third  game,  when  Hovey  had  him  40-0,  he  worked  it 
up  to  deuce,  but  unfortunately  eventually  lost  on  drives 
out  of  court.  He  kept  his  nerve,  nevertheless,  and  earned  the 
fourth  game  with  steady, and  at  times, brilliant  work.  Hovey 
could  not  connect  on  the  young  man's  serve  and  drove  out. 
Whitman  then  ran  up  to  the  net  and  scored  a  beautiful 
side  place,  making  it  40-0.  I  cannot  help  feeling  that  if 
he  had  done  more  of  this  work  he  would  have  kept  Hovey 
playing  an  hour  longer  for  his  win.  The  score  then  went 
from  40-0  to  40-30,  but  Hovey  followed  with  a  drive  out, 
and  it  was  Whitman's  game.  This  was  the  end  of  the 
latter's  good  work.  Hovey  took  a  brace  and  had  it  all  his 
own  way  until  the  end,  giving  Whitman  only  two  points 
in  the  next  three  games,  closing  the  set  with  the  score  27- 
13.  Whitman  is  only  seventeen  years  old,  and  goes  to  Har- 
vard in  the  fall.  His  school  in  Boston  was  Hopkinson's, 
although  for  five  years  previous  to  this  last  he  attended 
the  Roxbury  Latin  School.  Ware  is  a  Roxbury  Latin 
player,  and  also  enters  Harvard  with  the  class  of'J'J. 

BESJDKS  WHITMAN  AND  WARE  another  scholastic  player 
at  Lung  wood  «  as  W.  M.  Scudder,  of  St.  Paul's.  He  has  the 
making  of  a  good  player,  but  only  got  as  far  as  the  first 
round,  when  he  met  Paret,  and  was  defeated,  1-6.  6-2,  5-7, 
6—4,6—3.  Scudder  played  a  good  game  in  this  match,  in 


spite  of  his  ill-success,  volleying  and  smashing  with  a  de- 
gree of  proficiency  that  would  have  done  credit  to  many 
an  older  player.  Paret  won  by  better  head-work,  but  I  a,m 
ciuilideiit  Scudder  will  be  heard  from  later  on. 

THE  REFERENCE  TO  NEW  ENGLAND  football  made  in  these 
columns  two  weeks  ago  has  aroused  the  interest  of  a  num- 
ber of  readers  in  that  section,  and  several  questions  have 
been  asked  about  the  origin  of  the  present  association. 
The  subject  is  of  enough  general  interest  to  receive  a  little 
more  space  than  it  was  possible  to  devote  to  it  last  time. 
It  is  of  enough  general  interest,  because  this  football 
league,  with  the  possible  exception  of  the  New  York  Inter- 
scholastic  track-athletic  organization,  was  the  first  inter- 
scholastic  association  formed  in  this  country.  It  came 
about  in  a  very  natural  way  in  the  full  of  1888.  Harvard 
football  men  had  for  several  years  been  deploring  the  ne- 
cessity of  devoting  two  or  three  weeks  at  the  beginning  of 
each  fall  term  to  the  weeding  out  and  selection  of  new 
football  material,  and  the  idea  finally  suggested  itself  that 
if  the  schools  could  be  used  for  this  purpose  the  university 
would  gain  much  by  such  an  arrangement.  It  then  be- 
came clear  that  the  way  to  use  the  schools  would  be  to  get 
up  some  sort  of  a  football  league  that  would  train  players 
who  would  eventually  enter  Harvard,  and  furnish  material 
for  the  university  eleven. 

THIS  IDEA  OF  ORGANIZING  an  iuterscholastic  league  ema- 
nated from  the  fertile  brain  of  R.  Seaver  Hale,  tlien  in  col- 
lege. He  consulted  with  Captain  Sears,  of  the  'Varsity 
football  team,  with  F.  C.  Woodman,  C.  A.  Porter,  and  A.  P. 
Butler,  members  of  the  eleven,  and  with  Fred  i'isk,  who 
took  a  living  interest  in  the  athletic  welfare  of  the.  college. 
These  six  men  discussed  Hale's  idea,  and  then  decided  to 
put  in  $25  apiece  and  to  oft'er  a  cup  which  should  be  con- 
tested for  by  football  teams  from  the  Boston  schools. 

WHEN  THE  QUESTION  WAS  SUBMITTED  to  the  school  foot- 
ball players  it  was  looked  upon  favorably  at  once  by 
them,  and  the  interseholastic  association  was  formed.  The 
schools  to  come  in  were  the  Cambridge  High  and  Latin, 
the  Roxbury  Latin,  the  Boston  Latin,  I'lnmncy  Hall,  Hop- 
kinson's, Nobles,  and  Hale's,  Nichol's,  and  Stone's  combined. 
The  six  Harvard  men  then  got  together  again,  and  drew  up 
rules  and  regulations  which  should  govern  the  playing  for 
the  cup.  Hale  was  the  Thomas  Jefferson  of  the  crowd, 
and  turned  out  a  code  of  laws  that  suited  the  schools  per- 
fectly. 

THE  FORMATION  OF  THE  LEAGUE  created  a  great  boom 
in  football  in  the  schools.  Up  to  that  time  playing  had 
been  of  a  desultory  nature,  and  games  had  been  arranged 
from  week  to  week  as  the  captains  chose.  There  had 
never  been  any  training  or  system.  Now  all  this  changed. 
Schedules  were  prepared  and  adhered  to,  and  the  players 
all  made  it  a  point  to  keep  in  as  good  training  as  possible. 
Each  school  had  its  eye  on  the  cup.  The  Harvard  men 
were  much  pleased  at  the  success  of  their  scheme,  and  the 
'Varsity  Captain  looked  hopefully  toward  the  development 
of  good  material  for  the  next  year.  The  donors  of  the  cup 
acted  as  a  sort  of  advisory  committee,  and  kept  a  general 
supervision  over  the  league. 

THINGS  PROGRESSED  FAIRLY  on  this  line  for  a  while,  until 
the  sport  was  so  generally  taken  up  all  over  the  country 
that  the  college  players  no  longer  felt  the  necessity  for 
taking  that  parental  interest  in  the  schools  which  had 
prompted  the  offering  of  a  cup.  Succeeding  'Varsity  Cap- 
tains, who  had  not  gone  through  the  labors  of  Sears  and  his 
predecessors  to  get  good  material,  did  not  quite  see  the  ne- 
cessity for  devoting  their  time  to  overseeing  scholastic 
matches,  and  so  the  schools  gradually  took  the  manage- 
ment of  their  league  into  their  own  hands.  The  teams  be- 
longing to  the  association  increased  so  in  number,  that  the 
association  had  to  be  divided  into  two  parts,  known  re- 
spectively as  the  Senior  League  aud  the  Junior  League, 
the  Seniors  playing  each  year  for  the  cup,  the  Juniors  play- 
ing for  a  pennant.  The  winner  of  the  Junior  League  eu- 


802 


HAKPEK'S   ROUND   TABLE 


tered  the  Senior  League  the  following  year. 
The  latter  was  kept  under  the  management 
of  the  donors  of  the  cup,  but  the  Juniors 
more  or  less  ran  themselves. 

THIS      METHOD     HAS     XOW     AGAIN     beeu 

changed,  as  described  in  the  ROUND  TABLE 
two  weeks  ago.  There  is  henceforth  to  he 
only  one  League  playing  in  two  divisions. 
In  the  first  are  six  Seniors  playing  for  the 
cup  ;  in  the  second,  all  the  rest  playing  for 
a  pennant.  At  the  end  of  the  season,  or  at 
the  beginning  of  the  next  season,  the  last 
team  of  the  first  section  will  play  the  first 
team  in  the  second  to  see  whether  they 
change  places.  This  arrangement  will  serve 
to  keep  the  first  division  always  made  up 
of  six  teams. 

THE  MANAGEMENT  OF  BOTH  divisions  rests 
in  one  committee  composed  of  three  mem- 
bers of  the  schools,  the  Captain  of  the  Har- 
vard eleven  two  Harvard  meu,  who  replace 
the  original  cup  donors,  and  one  graduate 
of  the  schools,  who  may  be  a  Harvard  man, 
but  who  at  present  is  a  Tufts  College  man, 
a  graduate  of  the  En<«lish  High -School. 
This  makes  seven  in  all.  It  is  well  that  one 
of  the  committee  should  not  be  a  Harvard 
man,  and  so  the  presence  of  the  Tufts  man 
makes  the  arrangement  as  just  as  it  should 
be.  Harvard  having  offered  the  cup,  should, 
of  course,  always  retain  a  controlling  voice 
in  the  councils  of  the  association. 

THE  HIGH-SCHOOL  OF  STOCKTON,  Califor- 
nia, will  apply  fur  membership  in  the  Aca- 
demic Athletic  League  of  the  Pacific  coast 
at  the  opening  of  the  next  school  term,  and 
as  there  is  no  reason  to  suppose  admission 
will  be  refused  we  shall  doubtless  see  some 
Stocktonians  in  the  front  ranks  at  the  next 
semiannual  field-day.  Stockton  H.-S.  has  a 
good  record  in  athletics,  and  in  addition  to 
the  regulation  sports  of  the  school  list  they 
indulge  in  rowing.  The  Stockton  Athletic 
Club  has  for  some  time  allowed  the  High- 
School  oarsmen  to  use  their  barges,  and  the 
interest  in  aquatics  has  become  so  lively 
that  a  race  may  soon  be  arranged  with  the 
Oakland  High-School.  O.  H.-S.  has  not 
rowed  any  yet,  but  there  is  a  movement  on 
foot  to  get  the  use  of  the  University  of  Cali- 
fornia boats  that  are  kept  on  Oakland  Creek, 
not  far  from  the  school,  and  as  this  courtesy 
will  doubtless  be  granted  to  the  boys  by  the 
U.C.  Navy,  a  water  contest  may  not  be  far 
distant. 

OF  THE  ELEVEN  MEN  who  carried  oft"  the 
championship  of  the  Connecticut  High  - 
School  A.A.  for  the  Hartford  High-School, 
Lawrence,  Field,  Ingraham,  and  Parkhnrst 
have  graduated,  and  Cady  will  go  to  Au- 
dover  for  a  year  before  entering  Yale.  These 
departures  will  greatly  weaken  the  H.H.-fc 
team,  and  the  Captain  must  now  look  to  the 
development  of  new  material,  or  else  those 
ponies  from  Lakeville  will  come  down  again 
next  spring  and  this  time  take  the  cham- 
pionship back  with  them  to  the  Hotchkiss 
School. 

HARTFOKD'S  LOSS  is  ANDOVER'S  GAIN.  At 
the  New  England  Intel-scholastics  last  June, 
Audover  took  both  the  high  and  the  low 
hurdles  with  Hine;  and  in  the  dual  games 
against  Worcester,  Audover  got  the  high 
hurdles  with  Holt,  losing  the  low  race  to 
Worcester  through  Barker.  Both  Hine  and 


Holt  graduated  this  year,  however,  and 
Audover  would  have  been  left  without  a 
hurdler  if  Cady  had  not  ileeiilrd  to  spend  a 
year  in  Massachusetts.  Cady  did  not  make 
a  very  strong  showing  at  the  Connecticut 
H.-S. A.A.  games  this  year  because  of  a  dis- 
located shoulder.  He  ran  second  to  Field 
in  the  high,  and  third  in  the  low  hurdles. 
But  I  feel  confident  that  he  has  good  speed, 
which  careful  and  systematic  training  is  sure 
to  bring  out.  He  will  make  a  valuable  ac- 
quisition to  Andover's  athletic  team.  Some 
day  he  will  he  as  good  a  man  as  his  brother. 
THE  GRADUATE. 


Any  questions  in  regard  to  photograph  matters  will  be  willingly 
iswered  by  the  editor  of  this  column,  and  we  should  be  glad  to  hear 
from  any  of  our  club  who  can  make  helpful  suggestions. 

PAPERS  FOR  BEGINNERS,  NO.  10. 
PRINTING  PROCESSES:    TUE  BLUE  PRINT. 

THE  number  of  processes  used  for  photog- 
raphy are  many.  The  very  simplest  is 
the  blue-print  paper.  This  quality  is  not 
the  only  one  which  recommends  it  alike  to 
the  beginner  and  the  advanced  amateur. 
It  is  nearly  equal  to  the  best  silver  prints 
in  detail  and  clearness,  and,  unlike  them,  is 
absolutely  permanent.  It  does  not  require 
any  manipulation  after  printing  except 
washing  in  clear  water.  It  is  only  half  the 
price  of  silvered  paper,  and  if  prepared  at 
home  is  still  less  expensive.  Then  blue 
paper  is  specially  adapted  to  water  pictures 
and  to  landscapes  where  there  are  plenty 
of  clouds  in  the  sky,  and  to  those  which 
have  a  long  perspective  with  hills  or  moun- 
tains in  the  distance. 

The  ready -prepared  paper  costs  twenty 
cents  for  a  4x5  package  containing  two 
dozen  sheets.  That  prepared  at  home  will 
cost  about  five  cents  for  the  same  quantity. 

The  process  of  printing  with  blue  paper 
is  as  follows:  Place  the  negative  in  the 
printing-frame,  glass  side  out,  lay  a  sheet  of 
blue  paper  ou  the  film  side,  fasten  in  the 
frame  and  expose  to  bright  sunlight.  Blue 
prints  may  be  made  on  a  cloudy  day,  but 
the  quicker  they  are  printed  the  clearer  and 
sharper  will  be  the  picture.  Print  until 
the  shadows  are  slightly  bronzed — that  is, 
have  a  sort  of  metallic  or  shiny  look,  and 
are  a  bluish-greeu  in  color. 


Take  the  print  from  the  frame  and  place 
it  i'aee  up  iii  a  tray  <if  clear  water,  ami  In  it 
Maud  in  the  xnn  for  a  minute,  or  two.  am! 
then  wash  I'm-  liftei-n  or  t  \\eiil.v  minute*  in 
running  water.  If  one  has  mil  running 
water,  wash  ihe  print  in  a  lew  change-,  ol 
water  till  the  water  ceases  to  he  I. 
with  tin;  blue,  color  of  the  print.  11  the  line 
detail.-,  ol'  the  pietmv  uash  out,  the  picture 
has  not  beeu  printed  long  enough.  It' the 
higher  white  lights  in  the  picture  are  tinned 
with  blue,  then  the  picture  has  been  printed 
too  long. 

After  the  print  is  washed  siifliciently.  lay 
it  between  two  clean  pieces  of  white  blot- 
ting-paper to  absorb  (lie  moisture,  then  pin 
it  up  by  the  corner  to  dry. 

It  is  very  easy  to  sensitize  the  bine  paper. 
Any  unglazed  paper  will  answer,  but  the 
Rives  paper  is  the  best.  The  following 
formula  was  sent  a  few  days  ago  by  Sir 
Knight  Willis  H.  Kerr,  University  of  Omaha, 
Bellevue,  Wisconsin  : 

No.  1. 

Citrate  of  iron  and  ammonia 1  oz. 

Water 4  " 

No.  2. 

Red  prussiate  of  potash 1    " 

Water 4   " 

Keep  the  bottles  in  a  dark  place  or 
wrapped  in  black  paper.  Mix  equal  pints 
of  No.  1  and  No.  2,  and  having  first  dampened 
the  paper  with  a  brush  or  sponge  put  on 
enough  of  the  solution  to  tint  the  paper 
evenly  and  apply  lightly  to  avoid  streaks. 
As  soon  as  the  paper  is  dry  it  is  ready  for 
use.  The  operation  of  sensitizing  the  paper 
must  be  done  by  gas  or  lamp  light. 

SIB  KNIGHT  FRANK  S.  WHITNEY  asks  liow  to  mount 
prints  made  on  Omega  paper  without  removing  tin- 
gloss,  and  also  wishes  a  good  formula  for  paste,  and  to 
know  just  how  mounting  of  prints  is  done.  Trim  the 
prints  ready  for  mounting  before  they  are  toned.  Tone 
them,  and  squeegee  them  to  the  ferrotype  plate. 
When  they  are  thoroughly  dry  apply  paste  to  the  back 
of  the  print  before  removing  it  from  the  ferrotype. 
This  will  moisten  the  print  just  euough  to  let  it  t..-  re- 
moved from  the  plate  without  tearing  or  stiekiiiL', 
loosening  the  corner  first  with  the  point  of  a  pen- 
knife. Have  the  card-mount  ready,  and  lay  the  pic- 
ture carefully  on  it  just  where  it  is  to  be  pasted.  The 
prints  treated  in  this  way  lose  little  of  the  gloss  made 
by  the  ferrotype  plate.  When  first  beginning  to  mount 
pictures  it  is  best  to  mark  the  place  on  the  card  w  l,ei  ,- 
the  picture  is  to  be  pasted.  Lay  a  piece  of  tissur-j.a- 
per  over  the  face  of  the  print,  and  rul>  the  - 
over  it  lightly.  Take  off  the  paper,  and  if  any  paste  has 
oozed  out  from  the  edges  of  the  print,  wipe  it  oft  rare- 
fullyi  Then  lay  a  fresh  piece  of  paper  over  I 
and  rub  down  smoothly.  If  one  has  no  90,11. 
smooth  silass  bottle  answers  well  for  small  prints. 
For  a  formula  for  good  paste  see  No.7S4. 


ADVERTISEMENTS. 


Highest  of  all  in  Leavening  Power.— Latest  U.  S.  Gov't  Report 

y  Baking 
_,  Powder 

ABSOLUTELY 


HARPER'S  NEW  CATALO 

Thoroughly  revised,  classified,  an.l 

by  mail  to  any  address  on  receipt  of  ten  cents. 


803 


HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE 


BICYCLING 


This  Department  ia  conducted  in  the  interest  of  Bicyclers,  and  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to 
answer  any  question  on  the  subject.  Our  maps  and  tours  contain  nm< -h  valuaMe  data  kindly 
supplied  from  the  official  maps  and  road-books  of  the  League  of  American  Wheelmen.  Recog- 
nizing the  value  of  the  work  being  done  by  the  L.  A.  W.,  the  Editor  wilt  be  pleased  to  furnish 
subscribers  with  membership  blanks  and  information  so  far  as  possible. 

ONE  of  the  prettiest  and  perhaps  the  best  trip  for  an 
afternoon  ride  in  the  vicinity  of  Philadelphia  is  to 
run  up  through  Fairmouut  Park,  following  the  Wissahiekou, 
which  is  a  branch  of  the  Schuylkill,  and  return  to  Phila- 


]Bicyc/e  route 
•Railway  station. 
L*^Hi]l  orpoor  road 
Hoi  el 


Copyright,  1895,  by  Harper  A  Brothers. 


delphia  by  Bryn-Mawr.  The  distance  altogether  is  about 
thirty-three  or  thirty-four  miles,  and  the  road  is  not  only  a 
fine  one  from  a  bicyclist's  point  of  view,  but  is  most  pic- 
turesque, cool,  and  pleasant.  Leaving  the  public  buildings 
at  Broad  and  Market  streets,  proceed  as  described  last 
week,  up  Broad  Street  to  Spring  Garden  Street ;  turning 
left  into  this  follow  it  to  the  bridge,  but  instead  of  crossing, 
this  turn  to  the  right  through  East  Park,  leaving  the  res- 
ervoir on  the  right,  and  then  keeping  to  the  Schuylkill  un- 
til Street  Lane  is  crossed.  Here  the  Wissahiekou  drive- 
begins,  and  the  grade  from  this  point  to  the  end  of  the 
drive,  while  it  is  not  the  most  level,  is  not  by  any  means 
too  hilly  for  pleasant  bicycle  riding.  At  the  end  of  the 
Wissahickon  drive  turn  left  into 
the  new  road,  which  has  been  re- 
cently opened,  thence  turn  riglit 
up  the  Ridge  Eoad,  and  continue 
on  to  Barren  Hill.  Here  you 
should  turn  sharp  to  the  left 
again,  and  run  down  a  hill,  keep- 
ing to  the  right  at  its  foot.  This 
road  carries  you  on  to  Spring 
Mill,  and  from  here  the  road  again, 
running  along  by  the  Schuylkill, 
will  bring  you  into  Conshohock- 
en,a  distance  of  seventeen  miles, 
and  a  half  from  the  public  build- 
ings in  Philadelphia.  The  road 
along  the  route  is  gravel,  but  it  is 
good  bicycling  over  almost  every 
foot  of  it.  There  is  no  very  good 
stopping-place  in  Coushohockeu, 
but  tbe  wheelman  will  tiud  a  road- 
house  which  will  serve  the  pur- 
pose of  a  noonday  meal  very  well. 

LEAVING  CONSHOHOCKEN,  cross- 
the  river,  going  south  west  ward, 
then  continuing  southward,  fol- 
low the  route  marked  on  the  map 
to  Bryu-Mawr,  the  road  from  Cou- 
shohockeu until  Lancaster  Ave- 
nue is  reached  being  easily  fol- 
lowed with  the  exception  of  a 
sharp  turn  to  the  right  soon  after 
crossing  the  river,  and  another 
turn  to  the  left  a  few  moments 
later.  From  Bryn-Mawr  through 
Arduiore,  Overbrook,  into  Market 
Street  at  the  ferry,  is  a  straight 
rim  along  Lancaster  Avenue, 
which  is  paved  with  Belgian 
block  pavement  from  the  point 
where  it  is  joined  by  Fifty-fourth 
Street  to  Forty-third  Street,  but 
is  otherwise  a  capital  bicycle 
route.  A  somewhat  pleasanter 
way  to  return  from  Coushohockeu 
is  to  follow  the  western  bank  of 
the  Sehuylrull  until  you  strike 
Belmont  Avenue.  This  is  in  cap- 
ital condition,  and  will  carry 
you  through  Fail-mount  Park.  On 
reaching  Elm  Avenue,  turn  left, 
and  again  turn  left  into  Girard 
Avenue,  and  from  this  pointeither 
continue,  crossing  the  river  and 
running  down  Grand  Avenue  to 
Grand  Street,  or  turn  to  the  right 
just  before  crossing  and  follow 
the  western  bank  of  the  river  ;is 
far  as  Spring  Garden  Street,  wlinv 
another  crossing  may  be  made, and 
the  return  to  the  public  build- 
ings followed  as  already  de- 
scribed. 

As  WAS  SAID  LAST  WEEK,  Phila- 
delphia is  most  admirably  suited 


80  i 


HAEPER'S   KOUND   TABLE 


for  bicycling,  but  it  would  be  difficult  to 
iind  a  more  picturesque  mid  than  that 
which  rims  up  through  Fairmoniit  Park  or 
Jiast  Park  and  out  towards  the  source  of  the 
\VissaIiickou, aud  this  run  is  one  of  the  best 
that  can  be  found  not  only  iu  the  vicinity 
of  Philadelphia,  but  anywhere  in  the  United 
States. 

NOTE.— Map  of  New  York  city  asphalted  streets  in 
No.  809.  Map  of  route  from  New  York  to  Tarrytown 
in  No.  S10.  New  York  to  Stamford,  Connecticut,  in 
No.  811.  New  York  to  Staten  Island  in  No.  812.  New 
Jersey  from  Hobokeu  to  Pine  Brook  in  No.  813. 
Brooklyn  in  No.  814.  Brooklyn  to  Babylon  in  No. 
S15.  Brooklyn  to  Northport  in  No.  816.  Tarrytown 
to  Ponghkeepsie  in  No.  817.  Poughkeepsie  to  Hud- 
son in  No.  818.  Hudson  to  Albany  in  No.  819.  Tot- 
tenville  to  Trenton  in  820.  Treuton  to  Philadelphia  in 
821.  Philadelphia  in  No.  221. 


IJHPUDDING; 


This  Department  is  conducted  in  the  interest  of  Girla  and  Young 
Women,  and  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to  answer  any  question  on 
•the  subject  80  far  as  possible.  Correspondents  should  address  Editor. 

THIS  Pudding  Stick  will  be  a  very  prac- 
tical aft'air.  Iu  these  summer  days, 
Tvheu  families  are  separated,  or  young  peo- 
ple are  payiug  visits  to  their  friends,  a  great 
many  letters  must  be  written,  aud  it  is  well 
to  know  what  sort  of  stationery  to  use,  what 
sort  of  ink  is  best,  and,  in  brief,  to  under- 
stand the  small  details  which  make  a  letter 
or  note  graceful  and  elegant.  The  reverse 
•of  elegance  is  caused  by  lack  of  attention 
to  what  seem  to  be  mere  trifles,  yet,  in  a 
•way,  nothing  is  trifling. 

Thick  white  note-paper  without  lines  is 
4he  approved  style  for  young  ladies,  the 
;sheet  of  note-paper  folded  once  iu  the  mid- 
•dle  to  fit  an  envelope  which  comes  with  the 
paper.  Little  girls  may  use  the  pretty 
Brownie  paper,  or  other  note-paper  with  a 
dainty  device  in  the  corner;  but  girls  over 
twelve  years  of  age  should  confine  them- 
selves to  the  clear  smooth  white  paper.  If 
you  cannot  write  without  lines  to  keep 
your  words  from  a  zigzag  course,  slip  in  be- 
tween the  folds  of  your  paper  a  heavily 
Tuled  sheet,  which  will  be  a  guide  until 
practice  enables  you  to  control  your  hand 
so  that  you  can  keep  your  writing  straight 
.and  even  without  au  outside  help. 

USH  black  ink  and  a  good  pen,  steel  or 
:gold,  as  you  prefer.  Keep  your  pen  iu  per- 
fect order. 

Ax  the  top  of  your  paper,  a  little  to  the 
Bright  hand,  write  very  plainly  your  post- 
office  address.  If  your  house  has  a  special 
name,  as,  for  instance,  "  Sunnyside,"  "  The 
Owlery,"  "The  Wren's  Nest,"  "Riverbank," 
that  will  be  first  mentioned,  but  must  be 
followed  by  the  names  of  your  town,  or 
village,  county,  aud  State.  It  is  important 
to  give  each  of  these  in  full.  If  you  reside 
in  a  city,  your  stivet  and  number  must  In- 
plaiuly  written  at  the  top  of  your  letter. 
Should  your  letters  be  sent  to  a  post-oftii/e 
box,  instead  of  to  your  bouse,  give  the  num- 
ber of  the  box.  Never  omit  these  details. 
You  cannot  be  sure  that  the  most  intimate 
friend  will  not  be  glad  to  save  herself  the 
trouble  of  looking  up  your  address,  aud  the 
proper  thing  is  to  be  methodical  aud  begin 
•a  letter  with  care. 

OF  course,  in  corresponding  with  your 
^parents,  sisters,  aud  brothers,  or  dear  school- 


mates, you  may  be  very  affectionate  in  yonr 
expressions.  "Dearest  Mother."  "  D.-iHinn- 
Papa,"  "  My  Own  Dear  Mollie,"  are  all  ap- 
propriate if  your  heart  prompts  you  to 
write  iu  this  way  to  your  home  people.  It 
is  well  to  be  less  demonstrative  with  others, 
and  "  Dear  Susie,"  or  "  My  Dear  John,"  are 
in  better  taste  when  writing  to  your  cousins 
at  a  distance.  "Dear"  is  considered  less 
formal  than  "  My  Dear."  Should  you  have 
occasion  to  write  a  letter  of  business,  make 
clear  to  your  correspondent  what  you  wish 
to  say.  Business  letters  should  be  straight- 
forward and  to  the  point,  and  as  short  as 
is  consistent  with  telling  all  that  ought  to 
be  told.  Home  letters,  and  letters  of  affec- 
tion, as  also  letters  written  when  on  a  jour- 
ney may  be  as  long  as  you  choose,  anil  as 
far  as  possible,  should  be  written  as  you 
would  talk,  a  letter  beiug  a  talk  on  paper 
to  a  friend  out  of  sight. 

No  part  of  a  letter  is  of  more  consequence 
than  the  signature.  I  sometimes  receive 
letters  from  strangers,  aud  am  wholly  un- 
able to  ascertain  the  names  of  the  writers, 
their  signature  being  so  hurriedly  written 
that  it  is  what  we  call  blind.  Do  you  not 
think  it  worth  while  to  write  your  name 
plainly  when  you  remember  that  the  name 
stands  for  you  wherever  you  go,  that  it  rep- 
resents your  character,  that  its  lack  makes 
a  legal  document  worthless,  and  adds  worth 
to  whatever  it  is  affixed?  Always  write 
your  name  in  full  at  the  end  of  every  letter, 
preceding  it  by  "  Yours  sincerely,"  or  "Faith- 
fully yours,"  or  "Your  loving  daughter,"  or 
any  other  appropriate  form  or  phrase. 


LAUGHING  BABIES 

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copy  to  New  York  Condensed  Milk  Co.,  N.  Y.—  [Adi:] 


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"1896 
Machine 
in  1895. 


Columbia 
Bicycle 

differ  from  all 
other  bicycle 
cranks.  Easy 
to  take  off, 
easy  to  clean 
bea'rings.easy 
to  put  back. 
No  nuts  or 
bolts  to  work 
loose  or  catch 
trousers. 

Look  like 
one  piece ;  are 
one  piece  me- 

V^fea,  cllamcal'y- 

'«i-  •.  • 

One  of  the 
many  i  in 
prove  m  e  n  t  s 
that  main- 
tain  Colum- 
bia Standard. 


GET  THE    NEAREST   AGENT 
TO    EXPLAIN. 


POPE    MANUFACTURING  CO. 

GENERAL   OFFICE  AND    FACTORIES,  HARTFORD,  CONN. 

BRANCH    STORES  : 

BOSTON,     NEW     YORK,    CHICAGO,     PROVIDENCE,     PHILADELPHIA 
BUFFALO,   BROOKLYN,  BALTIMORE.  WASHINGTON,  SAN  FRANCISCO 


Jtostngc  Stamps, 


100 


100  all  dif.  Venezuela,  Costa  Rica,  etc  .  only 
10c.;  200  all  clif.Hayti, Hawaii, etc., only  Mir. 
Ag'ts  wanted  at  50  per  ct.com.  List  FREE! 
C.l.Stegniaiiii,2T22EadsAv.,St.Louis,Mo. 

all  different,  China,  etc.,  10c.;  5  Saxony,  10c.: 
40  Spain,  40c.;   6  Tunis,  14c.;    10  IT.  S.  Rev- 
enues, lOc.  Agts.  wtd.,  50^  com.; '95  liet  free. 
CRITTENDEN  &  BORG  MAN  CO.,  Detroit,  Mich. 


BAKER 


ills  recitations  ami 
i"  \Viiit-T St., Boston 

CATALOGUES  FREE. 


PLAYS 


Good 
Music 


Franklin 
Square 
Song 
Collection. 


GOOD  MUSIC  arouses  a  spirit  of  good-will, 
creates  a  harmonious  atmosphere,  and  where 
harmony  and  good-will  prevail,  the  disobedient, 
turbulent,  unruly  spirit  finds  no  resting-place. 
Herbert  Spencer  puts  his  final  test  of  any  plan  of 
culture  in  the  form  of  a  question.  "  Does  it  create 
a  pleasurable  excitement  in  the  pupils  ?"  Judged 
by  this  criterion,  Music  deserves  the  first  rank, 
for  no  work  done  in  the  school  room  is  so  surely 
creative  of  pleasure  as  singing.  Do  we  not  all 
agree,  then,  that  Vocal  Music  has  power  to  bene- 
fit every  side  of  the  child  nature  ?  And  in  these 
days,  when  we  seek  to  make  our  schools  the 
arenas  where  children  may  grow  into  symmetri- 
cal, substantial,  noble  characters,  can  we  afford 
to  neglect  so  powerful  an  aid  as  Music  ?  Let  us  as 
rather  encourage  it  in  every  way  possible. 

.',/  AT  Home  or  School 

a  bcfi<->  i  ••'/</  Hymns  than 

in  the  Fi\tnklin  St/it,;*,-  Song  Collection. 

Sold  Everywhere.    Price,  50  cents  ;    Cloth 
Full  contents  of  the  Several  Numbers,  with 
nieii  Pa^es  of  favorite  Songs  and  Hymns,  sent  by 
Harper  &  Brothers,  New  York,  to  any  address. 


HAEPEE'S  EOUND  TABLE 


A  Treat  for  the  Husk  Rack. 

At  the  close  of  my  former  "  Anecdotes  of  Von 
Bulow,"  I  wrote  against  the  German  conservato- 
ries in  general,  and  against  Stuttgart  in  particular. 
Here  lire  a  few  sentences  on  the  same  subject 
taken  from  an  article  by  John  C.  Filmore  which 
appeared  in  the  December  issue  of  llusic : 

"Touch  in  general  is  of  two  kinds,  that  based 
upon  the  blow  principle  and  that  based  upon  the 
principle  of  pressure.  The  former  was  the  kind  of 
touch  universally  prevalent.  It  is  exemplified  in 
extreme  degree  in  Plaidy's  Technical  Studies,  and 
in  Lebhert  and  Stark.  Unmodified  by  other  ideals, 
it  produces  a  bard,  rigid,  unelastic  touch,  and  a  cor- 
responding dryness  and  monotony  of  tone  quality 
such  as  makes  really  expressive  and  artistic  piano- 
playing  impossible.  This  is  the  reason  why  the 
Stuttgart  Conservatory,  with  its  hundreds  of  pupils, 
yearly  turns  out  no  real  artists.  The  pressure 
principle  has  found  place  in  the  playing  of  many 
European  pedagogues  without  being  adequately 
analyzed  or  explained.  Julius  Knorr  and  his  pu- 
pils employed  this  kind  of  touch  with  beautiful  ef- 
fect; hut  if  any  of  them  even  so  much  as  mentioned 
the  distinction  between  blow  and  pressure,  I  have 
never  been  able  to  hear  of  it. 

"The  two  most  valuable  .means  of  producing 
that  condition  of  the  nervous  and  muscular  appa- 
ratus on  which  a  sympathetic  touch,  based  on  the 
pressure  principle,  depends,  are,  so  far  as  I  am 
aware,  the  two-finger  exercise  of  Dr.  William  Ma- 
son, and  the  up-arin  touch.  This  latter  is  very 
lightly  touched  upon  in  the  first  volume  of  Mason's 
Touch  and  Tedtidc  ;  but  it  is  of  enormous  value,  as 
I  have  had  occasion  to  know  in  the  experience  of 
the  last  years,  and  vastly  more  can  be  done  with  it 
than  most  players  and  teachers  are  aware." 

I  also  stated  in  my  last  that  Von  Bulow  was  not 
a  great  pianist.  But  that  he  was  a  popular  pianist 
there  can  be  no  doubt,  though  why  he  was  popular 
it  is  hard  to  understand  ;  for,  according  to  Finck, 
Von  Bulow  was  a  pianist  in  whom  the  intellectual 
greatly  overbalanced  the  technical  and  emotional ; 
and  so  his  playing,  while  it  might  be  interesting  in 
a  certain  sense,  was  really  dry  from  its  lack  of  the 
emotional  quality.  Perhaps  it'  Von  Uiilov,'  had  been 
born  half  a  century  later  he  might  have  been  a 
greater  pianist,  for  at  present  the  advantages  for 
piano  students  are  much  greater  than  formerly. 

I  suppose  that  when  Von  IJulow  was  young 
Stuttgart  and  similar  schools  were  in  the  lead,  and 
from  those  his  technic  touch  and  emotional  ten- 
dencies could  not  be  as  fully  developed  as  at  the 
present  day— not  in  Germany,  but  rather  in  Paris, 
1,1  i-vi-n  in  the  great  musical  centres  of  our  own 
country.  But  the  great  advantage  that  the  "  Home 
of  Music  "  has  over  us  is  in  her  concerts  and  opera  ; 
not  so  much  quality  as  quantity,  and  at  cheaper 
rates.  We  have  good  concerts,  but  so  few,  com- 
paratively, and  too  high-priced  for  the  average 
person  to  attend  many.  How  can  a  violin  or  a 
piano  student  in  this  country  hear  many  violinists 
or  pianists?  It  is  in  this  respect  that  Germany  is 
far  ahead  of  us  ;  while  it  is  in  her  system  of  piano 
teaching  and  playing  that  she  is  pedantic  and  be- 
hind the  age ;  and  the  sooner  she  awakens  to  a 
realization  of  the  unfortunate  truth,  the  better  it 
will  be  for  our  nevertheless  ever  dear  beloved  Ger- 
many. 

N«w  YORK  CITY.  MARIE  THEKESE  BEKGE. 


1bauD. 


We  are  glad  to  announce  that  the  sum  for  the 
Willie  A.  Grant  memorial  stone  has  been  secured, 
the  contributors  being  : 
A  Friend,  Maine  ..........................  $1 

Grant  Knauff  .............................     1 

Sallie  F.  Hodges  ..........................        25 

Grace  Pearl  Richards  .....................        25 

.1  .inn  -s  F.  Rodgers  ........................       25 

Kr.-,|  W.  Baxter  ...........................     1 

Thomas  W.  Smyt.be  ......................        60 

Helen  Hunt  Ernie  n  I  rout  ..................        50 

Fanny  C.  Mrll  value  .......................         25 

James  W.  Gerard,  India  ..................     1 

The  amount  neeileil  ......................  $6 

These  sums  are  f^iven  to  place  a  <oi-,iur  memorial 
stone  in  the  School  Building,  Sir  William  having 


contributed  to  the  Fund  83  50.    He  was  a  Brooklyn 

member,  and  died  last  year. 
The  following  contributions  have  reached  us 

since  last  report : 

Robert  I.  Wilson  10 

W.  S.  M.  Silber 1 

Hubert  and  James  Mitchell,  Truman  and 

John  Pierce,  Samuel  Caufield,  and  Allen 

Russell   520 

Miss  J.  F.  Gillespie 1  75 

George  Pierce 2 

Kirk  Muuroe  Chapter,  of  Kingmau,  Ariz.  1 

Iswa  Finchon,  South  Africa 3  55 

Henry  S.  Can  by 1 

G.  W.  Hinckley 1 

Lancelot  Chapter,  of  Newtonville,  Mass.  3 

Edison  Chapter,  of  Bangor,  Me 2 

Virgilia  M.  Porter 50 

Edith  Cartledge 5 

S.  A.Rulon.Juu 10 

Ruth  S.  Earle 10 

Belvidere  Chapter,  of  Daretown,  N.  J.  . . .  5 

Cornelius  Newman 10 

Cornelius  S.  Lombard! 1 

PaulE.Good  1 

Leonard,  Florence,  and  Helen  Whittier . .  1 

Lois  S.  Miller 1 

Esther  R.  Custer 1 


3640 

The  Order  is  to  raise  $3000,  if  possible,  and  still 
needs  about  $1000.  Any  sum  from  anybody  is  wel- 
come. The  Fund  is  to  build  an  Industrial  School- 
house  for  the  boys  at  Good  Will  Farm.  These 
boys  are  orphans  and  known  to  be  deserving. 


(.00 1>    «  11,1,    ID  i  i  i 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 
INDUSTRIAL    SCHOOL    FUND 


amount,  $. 


Contributor. 

This  money  is  contributed,  not  because  it  ie  asked  for,  but  becauat 
I  want  to  give  it. 


If  you  ose  this  Good  Will  Mite,  simply  pin  it  to  vour  letter, 
in  order  tbat  it  may  be  detached  for  filing.  If  the'  amount  is 
i.-i\  rn  liv  mure  than  one  contributor,  add  blanks  for  their  names, 
hut  :m:uh  tbe  added  sheet  firmly  to  the  Mite, that  it  may  not 

f P  detached  and  lost.     Include  a  given  name  in  each  case, 

mid  \vrite  plainly,  to  avoid  errors  on  the  Honor  Roll. 


s>    Ik  iii  I?  s.   $ 

No.  92.— BEHEADINGS. 

The  beheaded  letters,  if  rightly  guessed,  will  spell 
the  name  of  a  famous  English  revolutionist. 

1.  Behead  cowardly,  and  leave  a  large  black  bird. 

3.  Behead  a  skating  pavilion,  and  leave  a  writing- 
fluid. 

3.  Behead  a  fruit,  and  leave  to  exist. 

4.  Behead  a  red  pigment,  and  leave  a  serpent. 

5.  Behead  to  blow  gently,  and  leave  abaft. 

6.  Behead  an  occurrence,  and  leave  an  opening. 

7.  Behead  to  bind,  and  leave  a  unit. 

8.  Behead  a  den,  and  leave  atmosphere. 


No.  93. — COIN  OF  THE  REALM. 

Men  will  fight  for  sterling  silver, 
And  hoard  the  shining  gold ; 

For  the  dollar  is  almighty, 
With  uses  manifold. 

There  are  various  other  moneys 

Not  taken  in  account, 
That  have  their  special  values 

And  uses  paramount. 

1.  There's  one  that's  hard  and  brittle, 

Grayish  or  silvery  white; 
'Tis  used  in  bells  and  mirrors 
To  make  them  clean  and  bright. 

2.  One  oft  purchases  an  office. 

Whii-h  never  should  be  sold. 

3.  One's  the  heritage  of  children, 

In  goods  or  lauds  or  gold. 

806 


4.  This  one  ushers  in  another, 

5.  A  union  of  two  lives— 
Oft  a  curious  kind  of  lottery 

For  husbands  or  for  wives. 

6.  This  is  paid  as  compensation 

To  many  an  injured  wife; 

7.  And  this  is  used  as  medicine- 

Mayhap  'twill  save  a  life. 

8.  This  one  curses  every  miser, 

9.  And  this  will  bitter  be ; 

10.  This  is  useful  confirmation, 

11.  And  this  makes  all  agree. 


No.  94.— FIVE  WORDS  SQUARES. 
*    *    *    *  **** 


****  *    *    *    * 

Upper  left-hand  square.— 1.  To  exist.  2.  A  metal. 
3.  Not  good.  4.  Extremities. 

Upper  right-hand  square.— 1.  To  make  a  sound. 
2.  What  heathens  worship.  3.  A  knot.  4.  A  dale. 

Central  square.— 1.  To  utter  with  musical  sounds. 
2.  A  stone  image.  3.  Part  of  the  head.  4.  Joy. 

Lower  left-hand  square.— 1.  To  bluster.  2.  A  no- 
tion. 3.  Tidy.  4.  Outer  door. 

Lower  right-hand  square.— 1.  Snakelike  fishes. 
2.  To  publish.  3.  An  acid  fruit.  4.  Apace. 


Answers  to  Kinks. 

No.  90.— Ben  Bolt. 

Odo.  Mat.  Shadrack.  Fish.  Ord.  Count. 
Sam.  Mesheck.  Bert.  Hook.  Key.  Banks. 
Lear.  Abe.  Abednego.  Pasha.  Eve.  Herod. 
Olive.  Hi-man-.  Ham.  Ibsen.  Kit.  Wayne. 
Church.  Atlas.  Will  Low.  King.  Bird.  Sar- 
gent. 


N 
E 
S 
T 


No.  91. 
A    M    E 


I     S 
L    O 

E    R 


(SJuesttons  anfc  answers. 

Howard  Notman,  Keene  Valley,  N.  Y.,  is  inter- 
ested in  beetles,  and  wants  to  get  specimens  from 
Florida,  Mexico,  Central  and  South  America.  In 
return  he  will  send  good  American  specimens. 
Barbara  A:  The  new  badges  are  delayed  by  the 
decision  about  design.  We  shall,  if  possible,  se- 
cure the  new  gold  badges  for  fifty  cents  each. 
Margaret  Slosson,  Pittsford,  Vt.,  says:  "I  wotdd 
like  to  exchange  fresh  specimens — that  is,  ones  not 
pressed — of  ferns  described  in  Gray's  Manual  of 
the  botany  of  the  northern  United  States.  Will 
those  wishing  ferns  please  send  list  of  ferns  want- 
ed, and  list  of  ones  for  exchange  ?" 

In  the  new  form  of  the  ROUND  TABLE,  the  adver- 
tisements are  to  be  bound  into  the  complete  vol- 
ume. Not  a  few  people  think  the  advertisements 
far  too  interesting  to  throw  away.  Florence  E- 
Cowan,  who  belongs  to  a  Chapter  that  has  been 
most  active  in  helping  the  School  Fund,  suggests 
that  the  Order  gives  to  Good  Will  a  library.  We 
like  the  suggestion,  but  think  the  best  plan  is  to 

first  finish  the  Fund.  Rebekah  Philips  Dix 1513 

Jackson  Street,  San  Francisco.  Cal.,want.s  to  hear 
from  anybody  interested  in  college  yells  and  colors, 
and  especially  asks  "M.  T,"  who  started  the  dis- 
cussion about  yells,  to  write  her. 

The  Lafayette  Chapter,  Norman  Hart.  Easton, 
Pa.,  is  to  begin  pul'lieatiou  of  L>>*«/'  I!"''  *.  irnl 
wants  original  contributions  that  are  short,  say  300 
words.  The  Lafayette  is  an  active  Chapter,  and  it  j 
paper  ought  to  be  a  good  one. 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


A  Good  Trick  in  Dominoes. 

Here  is  a  trick  played  with  dominoes  which  may 
be  new  :  Spread  out  a  set  of  dominoes  upon  the 
table,  being  careful  to  extract  one  for  your  own 
use.  Inform  the  company  that  if  they  will  match 
the  dominoes  you  have  laid  down,  using  every 
domino,  you  will,  after  leaving  the  room,  deter- 
mine the  numbers  at  either  end  of  the  match.  You 
then  leave  the  room,  and  read  the  numbers  on  your 
stolen  domino.  This  will  almost  infallibly  prove 
to  be  the  end  numbers  of  the  match.  When  the 
match  has  been  formed  and  concealed  by  a  hand- 
kerchief, you  enter  the  room  and  announce  the 
end  numbers.  VINCENT  V.  M.  BEEDE. 


'his  Department  is  corxlm  ti-<l  in  tl.,-  inteu'st  of  stump  Find  coin 
collectors,  and  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to  answer  any  question  on 
these  subjects  80  far  as  possible.  Correspondents  should  address  Editor 
Stamp  Department. 

HAVE  you  noticed  that  U.  S.  stamps  are 
now  printed  on  water-marked  p;i]irr? 
The  water-mark  can  be  seen  quite  plainly 
in  the  blank  margin,  but  is  very  indistinct 
in  the  stamps  themselves.  It  consists  of 
the  letters  U  S  P  S  iu  double  line  capitals 
16  mm.  high  repeated,  and  the  probable  in- 
tention was  to  have  one  of  the  letters  on 
each  stamp.  But  if  so  the  work  has  been 
carelessly  done  by  the  paper-  makers,  as 
there  are  only  ninety  letters  to  the  one  hun- 
dred stamps,  together  with  the  two  blank 
margins  on  the  two  sides  of  each,  sheet. 
The  arrangement  is  as 


PSUSPSUSP 

SUSPSUSPS 
USPSUSPSU 
SPSUSPSUS 
PSUSPSUSP 
SUSPSUSPS 
USPSUSPSU 
SPSUSPSUS 
PSUSPSUSP 
SUSPSUSPS 

Only  nine  letters  horizontally,  to  each  of 
the  ten  lines.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  the 
Postmaster-  General  will  have  the  paper 
made  iu  such  a  way  that  each  and  everj 
stamp  will  have  the  same  water-  mark. 
Why  not  use  the  letters  U.  S.  on  each  stamp  ? 
They  could  be  made  4  or  5  mm.  high,  and  be 
plainly  seen.  The  New  South  Wales  stamps, 
for  instance,  are  marked  "  N.  S.  W.,"  with  a 
crown  above.  So  far  as  I  have  seen,  the 
present  water-mark  appears  on  the  following 
stamps:  Ic.  blue;  Sc.  rod,  on  all  three  types 
of  the  triangle  ;  8c.  purple,  and  lOc.  dark 
green. 

A.  Cor.T.—  The  dealers  sell  quarters  of  1819  at  75c., 
dimes  of  188S-39  at  20c.  each.  Age  has  nothing  to  do 
•with  the  value  of  a  coiu.  You  can  buy  gome  coins 
2000  years  oltl  and  over  at  25c.  each  at  the  dealers. 

AT.IOK  CALHOUN.  —  Impossible  to  answer  your  ques- 
tion as  value  depends  on  what  the  stamps  are.  You 
can  buy  a  packet  of  1000  varieties  of  stamps  from  deal- 
ers for  $15. 

II.  C.  W.—  Sold  by  dealers  at  8c. 

A.  BALL.—  The  initials  D.  G.  on  coins  mean  "Deo 
Gratia,  "that  is  "  By  the  grace  of  God."  Almost  all 
moitoes  and  inscriptions  on  coins  are  iu  Latin,  and 
usii:il]y  with  many  abbreviations. 

H.  B.  CAKING,  Rochester,  N.Y.—  I  have  a  letter  for 
you  which  has  been  returned  from  Rochester. 

PHILATUS 


IVORY  5  GAP 


IT  FLOATS 


At  all  grocery  stores  east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  two  sizes  of  Ivory  Soap 
are  sold ;  one  that  costs  five  cents  a  cake,  and  a  larger  size.  The  larger  cake  is  the 
more  convenient  and  economical  for  laundry  and  general  household  use.  If  your 
Grocer  is  out  of  it,  insist  on  his  getting  it  for  you. 


THE  PROCTER  &  GAMBLE  Co    CIN'TI. 


EARN  A  TRICYCLEI 

We  wish  to  introduce  our 
Teas,  Spices, and  Baking 
Powder.  Sell  30  IDS.  and 
we  will  give  you  a  Fairy 
Tricycle;  sell  25  Ibs.for 
aSolId Silver  Watch  and 
rhain  ;  50  Ibs.  fora  Gold 
Watch  and  Chain;  76  Ibs. 
fur  a  Bicycle ;  10  Ibs. 
for  a  Beautiful  Gold 
Ring.  Express  prepaid 
li  <-;i^u  is  sent  for  goods. 
Write  for  catalog  and 
order  sheet. 

w.  G.  BAKER, 

SPRINGFIELD,  MASS. 


NESS  &  HEAD  NOISES  CURED 

niy  INVISIBLE  Tubular  Cushions.  Havo  helped 
re  to  cnoa  U  C  A  R  '  "  than  all  other  de- 
vices combined,  whispers  iBbMllii.  Help  ears  aa  classes 
dueyes.  F.  lit  si-ox,  858  B'dway,N.Y.  BookofproofB  FREE 


WONDER  CABINET  FREE.  Miiiinc  Link 
;ile,  Devil's  Bottle.  Pocket  Camera,  Ln*«r 
•e  Puttie,  Spook  Photos,  Boole  of  gleipbtof 

id.  Total  Value  GOo.  Sentfr*e  with  immcnf"« 
iloeue  of  KMK)  Bargains f  or  inc  for  postage, 
1ERSOLL  &  BRO.,  C5  Cortlandt  Street  H.  T. 


Books  Worth   Having. 

AFLOAT   WITH    THE    FLAG. 

By  W.  J.  HENDERSON,  Author  of  "Sea  Yarns  for  Boys,"  etc.  Illustrated. 
Post  Svo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $i  25. 

THE    BOY  TRAVELLERS    IN   THE    LEVANT. 

Adventures  of  Two  Youths  in  a  Journey  through  Morocco,  Algeria,  Tunis, 
Greece,  and  Turkey,  with  Visits  to  the  Islands  of  Rhodes  and  Cyprus,  and 
the  Site  of  Ancient  Troy.  By  THOMAS  \Y.  Kxox.  Profusely  Illustrated. 
Square  Svo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $3  oo. 


By   KIRK    MU.VROE.     Illustrated.     Post 


By  Captain  KING.     Illustrated.     Post  Svo.  Cloth, 


THE    FUR-SEAL'S   TOOTH. 

A   Story   of  Alaskan    Adventure. 
Svo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $i  25. 

CADET   DAYS, 

A  Story  of  West  Point. 
Ornamental,  $i  25. 

OTHER   BOOKS  BY   CAPTA1X    KING: 

CAMPAIGNING    WITH    CROOK,  AND    STORIES   OF    ARMY    LIFE.       Illus- 
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OLl.IE'S   OPINION. 
IF  the  two"z's"  iu  buzzard 

Are  because  it  buzzes,  then 
I  think  that  iu  "  mosquito  " 

There  should  be  eight  or  teu. 


MAMMA.  "  Bobby,   which     rule 
school  do  you  titid  the  hardrM  .'" 
BOBBY.  "The  teacher's." 


LITTLE  Ella,  hearing  her  father 
speak  of  putting  something  aside  for 
a  rainy  day,  broke  out  with  the  re- 
mark, 

"Oh,  papa!  I've  got  an  umbrella  laid 
aside  for  that." 


DOCTOR.  "WHAT  HAVE  Ton  BEEN  FATING  LATELY?" 

PATIENT.  "Wm,L,  YESTERDAY  I  ATE  ABOUT  TUBER   DOZEN  NAILS,  TWO  TIN  PLATES, 

THBEK   OHAIR   RUNGS,  ONK-UAI.F    A   KAW   POTATO — " 

DOCTOR.  "THAT'S    IT;    YOUR  STOMACH    is    TOO    SENSITIVE    TO    STAND    UNCOOKED 

VEGKTAULKS. " 


JACK.  "  I  think  my  brother  is  an  aw- 
ful cross  fellow." 

MOTHER.  "Don't  you  think  you're 
a  little  to  blame  at  times,  Jack  ?" 

JACK.  "  No ;  because  he  can't  help 
it — it's  the  W  iu  his  name  makes  the 
ill  mil." 


THE  LITTLE  GARDENER. 

"  WHY,  Wilbur,  what  are  you  doing?"  asked  Wilbur's  fa- 
ther, as  he  saw  the  boy  burying  his  little  engine  in  the 
ground. 

"I's  plantin'  this  engine,"  said  Wilbur.  "I  warit  a  lot 
more  of 'em,  and  I's  plantiu'zis  one  so's  we'll  have  an  en- 
gine-tree." 

« 

A  WISE   CHOICE. 

"I'D  rather  be  a  policeman  than  a  burglar,"  said  Jack. 
"  Burglars  have  to  work  nights." 

"  So  do  policemen,"  said  Bob. 

"Maybe,"  said  Jack;  "  but  they  lave  uniforms  and  brass 
buttons,  and  burglars  haven't." 


JIMMY'S    FUTURE.! 
JIMMY.  "When  I   grow  up  I'm  go- 
ing to  be  a  school-teacher." 

PAPA.  "Why  do  you  want  to  be  a  school-teacher?" 
JIMMY.  '"Cos  you  don't  have  to  know  the  lessons  your- 
self— you  just  have  to  hear  them  out  of  a  book." 


AN  EXCUSE. 

"  TOMMIE,  your  spelling  report  is  very  bad,"  said  Mr. 
Hicks  to  his  boy. 

"  That's  all  right,  papa,"  said  Toinmie.  "  When  I  grow  up 
I'm  going  to  dictate  all  my  letters,  like  you  do.  It's  th« 
type-writer  that'll  have  to  know  spelling,  not  me." 


'HA!  ha!"  laughed  the  fish,  as  it  glanced  at  the  bait 

That  hung  so  temptingly  by ; 
'By  your  silence  I  see  you're  intended  to  be 

Rather  too  pointed  to  try." 


THE  GRASSHOPPER  AND  THE  CIDER  PIGGIN. 

A  HOPPERGRASS,  one  sunny  day, 
Turning  hand-springs  amid  the  hay, 

O'erleaped  himself,  and  fell  into 

A  piggiu  of  good  apple  brew. 

"  Shame  on  you,  thirsty  little  one," 
Cried  the  haymakers  iu  the  sun ; 


WHENEVER  he  felt  two  stitches  iu  his  side 
The  little  old  philosopher  cried: 

"I'm  lucky,  I  think;  don't  you? 
If  one  in  time  saves  nine,  as  they  say, 
I'd  have  had  eighteen  of  'em  some  day 

If  it  wasn't  for  these  two!" 


A   BAD   COMBINATION. 

"  FAR  as  I  can  see,"  observed  Jack,  after  his  bicycle  acci- 
dent, "  a  bicycle's  just  as  skittish  as  a  horse." 

"It's  worse,"  said  Willie.  "My  bike  not  only  threw  me 
like  a  horse,  but  turned  back  and  gored  me  with  the  bar- 
iiandles  like  a  bull." 


A  LITTLE   TOMMIE  QUESTION. 

"SAY,  mamma."  said  little  Tomrnie, lookiug  up  from  his 
tin  soldiers,  "do  angels  put  their  heads  under  their  wings 
like  turkeys  when  they  go  to  sleep?" 


HIS   MEMORY. 

JOHNNY.  "I  can't  remember  the  name  of  that  little  girl 
I  met  at  Newport." 

PAPA.  "You  must  improve  your  memory.  That  little 
girl  had  a  very  common  uauie.  Now  guess — what  happens 
before  meat  ?" 

JOHNNY".  "The  sharpening  of  the  knife." 


The  hopper  took  one  draught,  and  then, 
Ere  he  flew  oft',  addressed  the  men: 

"Good  sirs,"  quoth  he,  "although  one  swallow 
Does  not  make  summer,  it  would  follow 
That  several  swallows  were  at  fault 
If  you  had  made  that  summersault." 


si  i- 


HARPERS 


ROUND  TABLE 


Copyright,  1895,  by  HAEPKB  &  BROTHERS.     All  Rights  Reserved. 


PUBLISHED    WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI. — NO.  824. 


NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY,  AUGUST  13,  1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO   DOLLARS   A    TEAR. 


THE  STORY  OF  NOEL  DUVAL. 


BY    FKANC1S    STERNE    PALMER. 


T 


HE  summer  of  1814  was  a  troubled  one  for  the  people 
living  iu  northern  New  York.  English  troops  were 
concentrating  at  points  just  across  the  Canadian  border, 
and  there  were  rumors  that  tliey  would  soon  invade  the 
territory  of  the  States.  The  farmers  were  being  hastily 
drilled  into  militia  companies — train-bands,  as  they  \  ere 
called;  the  women  were  anxious  and  frightened;  the  1  >ys 
shared  the  general  excitement,  and  were  busy  drillin  . 

Early  one  warm  July  evening  four  persons  were  sit  ing 
in  tlie  little  lattice-covered  pnrtirool'a  cottage  in  tin-  ut- 
skirts  of  one  of  the  larger  villages  near  the  Canadian  hoi  ler. 
The  most  noticeable  of  the  little  group  was  Madam  Mar- 
stou,au  old  lady,  tall  and  straight,  one  of  the  type  that 


furnished  the  New  England  pioneers  with  «i\es  as  hardy 
and  brave  as  themselves,  (.in  tin-  bench  on  the  other  side 
of  t  lie  portico  sat  her  daughter,  the  Widow  Duval.  a  slender, 
gentle  woman,  but  with  tin'  same  look  of  detenuinai  ion  ill 
her  fine  gray  eyes.  Close,  to  her  side  \\as  Noel  Ihnal.a 
boy  of  about  fifteen,  whose  dark  skin  and  keen  :n|iiiliiu: 
features  came  from  his  French  Canadian  father,  but  who 
hail  his  mother's  eyes.  The  sharpness  of  the  box's  features 
was  emphasized  by  the  thinness  of  his  face,  which  "as 
pinched,  as  if  by  suffering.  While  a,  child  he  had  im-i 
an  accident  that  had  brought  on  a  long  il!nc-s.  and  left  one 
arm  withered  and  almost  lielpU-ss.  Hi-  sister,  little  Ni- 
nette, nestled  close  to  her  stately  ^i  and I  her. 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"Mother,"  the  boy  was  saying,  "Abrani  Dodds  made  me 
very  angry  to-day.  He  said  I  was  Dot  au  American, be- 
cause my  father  was  not,  and  because  I  have  always  lived 
in  Canada." 

"I  wouldn't  mind  what  the  boys  say.  When  they  know 
you  better  I'm  sure  they'll  stop  trying  to  tease  you."  She 
laid  her  hand  on  his  shoulder  as  if  to  check  his  impatience. 

"Nay,  daughter,"  interposed  the  older  woman,  her  eyes 
flashing,  "  let  him  stand  up  for  himself — if  he  can.  Because 
you  chose,  against  my  wishes,  to  marry  a  Canadian  is  no 
reason  why  the  boy  should  be  sneered  at.  Was  not  his 
grandfather,  Caleb  Marston,  as  good  a  soldier- as  fought  in 
the  Revolution,  and  a  captain,  too?  Let  the  boy  stand  up 
for  himself,  say  I !" 

His  mother  only  stroked  the  boy's  hair  soothingly. 
"Bide  your  time, Noel, "'she  whispered;  "your  chance  will 
come,  and  in  the  mean  time  keep  guard  over  that  quick 
temper  of  yours.  Remember  you  must  be  strong  to  take 
care  of  us  all — Ninette,  and  your  grandmother,  and  me  — 
and  a  quick  unruly  temper  ever  means  weakness." 

"  I'll  not  forget,"  said  Noel.  "  But  still,  it  angers  me  to 
be  told  I'm  not  au  American.  If  my  arm  would  only  get 
strongi'v,  I  could  be  a  soldier  like  grandfather,  and  prove 
that  I'm  an  American.  I  am,  really,  am  I  not?  for  I  was 
born  in  this  country  before  my  father  took  yon  back  to  his 
home  in  Canada." 

Noel  got  up  and  walked  off  down  the  road  toward  the 
field  where  the  boys  held  their  drills.  ID  spite  of  his  weak 
arm  lie  thought  he  could  manage  well  enough  in  the  drill- 
ing, and  he  was  anxious  to  be  asked  to  join  a  military  com- 
pany the  boys  had  organized.  This  evening  there  had 
come  together  about  twenty  boys,  all  of  whom  lived  on  the 
neighboring  farms.  Their  drill-ground  was  a  level  piece 
of  pasture-land,  bordered  on  one  side  by  the  forest,  which 
in  those  times  stretched  far  away  to  the  north,  even  to  the 
banks  of  the  St.  Lawrence  River. 

When  they  saw  Noel  coming  toward  them  the  boys  had 
just  iinished  one  of  their  evolutions  and  were  resting,  lean- 
ing on  the  wooden  staff's  which  served  them  instead  of  real 
muskets.  Jacobus  Boouter,  who  was  captain,  had  a  real 
sword — one  that  his  grandfather, Ensign  Dirk  Boouter,  had 
carried  in  the  war  of  the  Revolution.  The  boys  had  much 
respect  for  the  old  sword,  especially  when  Jacobus  pointed 
out  some  spots  on  it  that  looked  as  if  they  might  be  blood- 
stains. 

"Captain,"  said  one  of  the  boys,  "there  comes  Noel  Du- 
val.  Yon  know,  he  came  here  with  his  mother  from  Can- 
ada only  two  mouths  ago,  and  they  live  with  old  Widow 
Marstou  on  her  little  farm.  He  only  has  one  good  arm,  but 
to-day  he  wanted  to  tight  Abram  Dodds  for  saying  he  was 
not  an  American.  Shall  we  let  him  join  the  company  ?  I 
know  he  wants  to." 

Broad-faced  Jacobus  shook  his  head  gravely. 

"No,  I  think  we'd  better  not.  He's  so  lately  from  Can- 
ada that  he  maybe  an  English  spy.  You  can't  be  too  care- 
ful. They  say  he  talks  French.  Besides,  he's  only  one 
good  arm.  No,  I  think  we'd  best  not  have  him.  I  don't 
trust  him,  and  a  one-armed  soldier  wouldn't  he  good  for 
anything,  anyway." 

"  Well,  I'd  trust  him,"  said  the  first  speaker,  "  and  I 
know  him  better  than  the  rest  of  you  do.  It's  true  he's 
lived  in  Canada,  and  wheu  he  was  there  he  learned  lots 
of  clever  things  about  the  woods, too;  but  he  feels  that 
this  is  his  country,  and  he's  just  as  good  an  American  as 
any  of  us," 

However,  the  opinions  of  Captain  Jacobus  prevailed,  and 
wheu  Noel  came  up  he  was  treated  in  so  cool  a  way  by 
most  of  the  boys  that  at  first  he  felt  very  angry  ;  but  he  re- 
membered to  check  his  temper.  He  remained  and  watched 
the  drill,  in  spite  of  their  evident  intention  to  treat  him  as 
an  outsider. 

Soon  it  got  so  dark  that  the  boys  had  to  stop  drilling. 
They  were  lying  about  on  the  ground  near  the  edge  of  the 
woods,  resting  a  little  before  they  parted,  when  of  a  sudden 
thirty  or  forty  men,  each  leading  a  pony,  loomed  out  of  the 
dusk.  They  were  walking  rapidly,  anil  keeping  close  to 
the  forest.  The  startled  boys  remained  quiet,  and  the  men 
did  not  see  them  till  they  were  close  upon  them. 


"Hello!  What's  this?"  exclaimed  the  one  who  seemed 
the  leader.  "Here,  you  little  rascals,  don't  you  stir!  Not 
a  word — not  a  move!" 

The  boys  were  frightened  into  complete  submission,  and 
lay  huddled  on  the  grouud  staring  at  the  new-comers. 
These,  with  the  exception  of  the  leader,  who  wore  the  nui- 
form  of  an  English  officer,  were  all  dressed  in  deer-skin 
suits,  with  fur  caps  and  moccasins.  The  boys  saw  that 
they  had  been  captured  by  a  band  of  the  dreaded  Canadian 
scouts — about  whose  Indianlike  ferocity  many  tales  were 
told  —  and  must  of  the  young  warriors  trembled  with 
fright.  Jacobus  tried  to  say  something,  but  his  voice 
broke,  and  the  a-ttempt  ended  in  au  ignominious  mixture 
of  gulp  and  sob. 

"You  won't  be  hurt  if  you  keep  quiet,"  said  the  officer, 
trying  not  to  smile  when  he  saw  Jacobus  and  his  big  sword. 
His  voice  grew  stern  as  he  went  on  :  "Pierre  and  Antoine, 
yon  stay  and  guard  these  boys.  If  one  moves  you  are  to 
shoot  him.  Remember  that  order,  boys  ;  remember  also 
that  my  scouts  always  obey.  Be  careful,  Pierre,  to  let. 
none  of  them  escape  to  give  the  alarm.  Join  us  when  you 
hear  firing.  Come  on,  the  rest  of  you." 

In  a  moment  the  stealthy  company  of  scouts,  leading 
their  ponies,  that  stepped  care  fully,  as  if  they  too  understood 
the  need  of  quiet,  were  gone.  The  boys  would  have  thought 
it  all  an  apparition  if  the  two  stalwart  Canadians,  Pierre 
and  Antoine,  had  not  been  there  to  prove  they  had  not  been 
dreaming.  The  two  scouts  talked  together  for  a  short 
time  in  Canadian  French  ;  then,  while  the  one  called  Pierre 
stood  guard  with  his  rifle,  Autoine  picketed- their  two 
ponies,  and  next  began  to  picket  the  boys — that  is,  lie  tied 
together  the  wrists  and  ankles  of  each  one,  using  some  long 
thongs  of  deer-skin  which  he  and  Pierre  carried  wound 
round  their  waists.  When  all  were  securely  tied  the  two 
scouts  stretched  themselves  out  on  the  grass,  and,  paying 
little  further  attention  to  their  trembling  prisoners,  began 
talking  —  none  of  the  boys  save  Noel  could  understand 
French. 

"How  long  must  we  wait  here  with  these  wretched 
youngsters  ?"  said  Pierre. 

"It  will  take  an  hour  or  more  for  them  to  eucircle  the 
village ;  and  that  must  be  done  before  the  attack  is 
made." 

"And  we  must  lose  it  all!  It's  a  shame.  Well,  they 
ought  to  give  us  a  better  chance  when—  "  Here  he  dropped 
his  voice  so  low  that  Noel  could  hear  no  more. 

While  Noel's  ears  had  been  busy,  his  fingers  had  not  been 
idle.  With  the  deftness  and  patience  born  of  his  forest 
training  in  Canada  he  had  worked  at  the  knots  that  bound 
him,  and  had  at  last  succeeded,  with  the  help  of  the  dark- 
ness, in  untying  them.  He  lay  just  at  the  forest's  edge, 
and  it  required  only  one  sudden  spring  to  carry  him  into 
the  underbrush. 

The  leap  had  been  a  quick  one,  but  Pierre's  sharp  eyes 
had  seen  the  boy's  first  movement ;  and  as  Noel  crashed 
into  the  bushes,  the  scout's  knife — which  he  wore  at  his 
belt,  and  which  he  could  throw  as  an  Indian  throws  the 
tomahawk — glanced  through  the  air,  severing  a  twig  close 
to  the  boy's  cheek.  Noel  made  two  or  three  long  leaps, 
then  crouched  down,  and,  feeling  along  the  earth,  found  a 
heavy  stick,  aud  fluug  it  crashing  into  the  bushes  at  one 
side. 

Pierre,  leaving  Antoine  to  guard  the  others,  had  sprung 
after  Noel;  he  carried  his  rifle, which  had  lain  by  his  side, 
wrapped  in  his  jacket  to  protect  it  from  the  dew.  It 
was  very  dark  under  the  thick  evergreens  ;  and  as  Pierre, 
misled  by  the  sound  of  the  stick,  went  a  few  yards  to  one 
side.  Noel  rose  aud  moved  away,  his  moccasins  making  as 
little  noise  as  do  the  furry  feet  of  a  Canada  lynx  creeping 
up  to  a  moose.  But  even  a  lynx  sometimes  stirs  a  twig 
that  rustles  a  dead  leaf,  and  now  this  happened  to  Noel. 
Pierre's  ears  caught  a  slight  sound;  instantly  he  made  out 
the  crouching  figure,  and,  throwing  his  rifle  to  his  shoul- 
der, fired.  Thanks  to  the  darkness,  the  bullet  missed,  but 
whizzed  so  close  to  the  boy's  head  that  the  concussion  al- 
most stunned  him.  Yet  he  felt  like  shouting  for  joy,  for 
the  scout,  his  muzzle-loading  rifle  empty  aud  his  knife 
gone,  was  practically  unarmed. 


810 


HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE 


"  Have  you  got  liini  ?"  cried  Antoine,  from  tlie  open. 

"Not  yet,"  shouted  back  Pierre.  "But  I'll  have  him, 
alive  or  dead.  He  sha'u't  get  away!" 

Noel,  knowing  that  there  was  now  neither  knife  nor  bullet 
to  follow  him,  had  leaped  forward,  running  like  a  deer.  The 
scout  sprang  after  him  not  twenty  yards  behind.  The 
little  forest  creatures  that  run  about  at  night — weasels 
and  sables  and  hares — scrambled  out  of  their  way,  aud 
crouched  down,  wondering  at  them  as  they  came  dash- 
ing by. 

The  two  were  not  unequally  matched  ;  for  while  the 
scout  had  the  advantage  in  strength,  Noel  was  the  more 
agile.  His  small  size  was  also  of  great  advantage,  as  any- 
one who  has  tried  to  run  through  tlie  woods  will  under- 
stand. The  low-growing  branches  of  trees  did  not  trouble 
the  boy  as  they  did  the  tall  Pierre,  who  several  times 
measured  his  length  upon  the  ground. 

They  went  oil  for  what  seemed  a  long  time  to  the  man 
and  boy  plunging  through  the  underbrush  of  the  woods, 
but  which  was  probably  not  more  than  half  an  hour.  By 
that  time  Noel  felt  that  his  strength  was  fast  going.  He 
was  breathing  painfully,  and  had  been  forced  to  slacken 
his  pace,  wh,;n  he  came  upon  what  at  first  seemed  a  thick 
grn\\  th  of  bushes;  as  he  broke  through  he  found  that  it 
was  a  brush  fence  which  some  farmer  had  built  through 
the  woods  to  enlarge  his  pasture.  The  boy,  agile  and  light, 
had  little  trouble;  but  Pierre  fared  worse,  and  before  he 
could  struggle  through  the  brush  and  the  tops  of  fallen 
trees  that  composed  the  fence,  Noel  had  doubled  the  dis- 
tance between  them. 

As  Noel  hurried  on  as  fast  as  he  was  able  he  was  startled 
by  some  large  animal,  which  he  stumbled  upon  just  as  it 
was  getting  to  its  feet;  it  too  was  frightened,  and  ran  on 
ahead.  Noel  saw  that  il  was  one  of  the  farmer's  heifers. 
Here  was  an  opportunity  to  mislead  his  pursuer,  and  the 
boy  dropped  to  the  ground  by  the  side  of  a  log  and  la}' 
perfectly  quiet.  Pierre,  out  of  breath,  aud  struggling  to 
make  up  the  ground  he  had  lost,  kept  on  after  the  heifer, 
thinking  it  was  Noel.  As  he  leaped  over  the  log,  he  was  so 
near  the  prostrate  figure  that  his  foot  actually  touched  the 
boy's  jacket. 

As  soon  as  the  Canadian  was  out  of  hearing,  Noel  jumped 
up  and  started  toward  the.  clearing,  which  he  knew  was 
near  by.  There  was  no  time  to  lose,  for  Pierre  must  soon 
find  out  his  mistake  and  return.  In  a  few  minutes  Noel 
readied  the  edge  of  the  wood,  and  far  off  across  the  fields 
saw  a  black  shaft  in  the  starlight,  the  .spire  of  the  village 
church.  It  was  fully  three  miles  away;  for  he  had  been 
running  from  the  village,  rather  than  toward  it.  The  at- 
tack, he  knew,  would  be  made,  within  an  hour. 

There  was  a  stretch  of  nearly  a  mile  across  the  fields  be- 
fore a  road  could  be  reached.  Noel,  tired  from  his  dash 
through  the  woods,  started  forward  across  the  uueveu  pas- 
ture-land. In  spite  of  his  anxiety,  he  laughed  to  himself 
at  the  thought  of  Pierre's  feelings  when  he  should  discover 
that  he  was  chasing  only  a  frightened  cow. 

As  he  hurried  on  as  fast  as  his  tired  legs  would  carry 
him,  it  seemed  to  his  strained  senses  that  an  unnatural 
aud  forbidding  hush  pervaded  the  warm  night.  Even  the 
notes  of  whippoorwills  that  came  from  the  bushes  near  the 
forest  sounded  less  loud  than  usual,  and  seemed  to  foretell 
a  calamity.  The  hares  aud  other  animals  that  come  out  in 
the  darkness  had  hidden  themselves. 

Finally  he  came  to  the  road  that  led  on  to  the  village, 
still  two  miles  away.  There  was  little  danger  of  being 
overtaken  by  Pierre  ;  but  there  was  a  chance  of  his  being 
seen  by  the  sentinels  that  the  raiders  might  station  on  the 
roads  leading  to  the  village.  He  could  not  go  faster  than 
a  slow  trot  now,  and  he  was  panting  painfully.  His  moc- 
casin-clad feet  ploughed  through  the  dust,  striking  against 
the  stones  in  the  rough  road.  He  thought,  a  little  bitterly, 
that  the  other  boys  wn.  right  if  they  believed  that  he  was 
not  really  able-bodied;  the  accident  that  had  hurt  his  arm 
had  weakened  him  in  every  way.  However,  he  plodded  on 
steadily,  resolved  that  determination  should  take  the  place, 
as  far  as  possible,  of  bodily  strength. 

He  had  gone  perhaps  half  the  way  when  there  was  the 
sound  of  a  horse's  hoofs  coming  from  the  direction  of  the 


village.  He  crouched  down  in  the  shallow  of  some  bushes, 

and  w  aitcd.  In  a  i cut  the  horse  and  its  rider  came  in 

sight,  and  by  the  dim  light  Xoel  recognized  Ihc  village 
doctor,  old  Mr.  Hedding,  astride  his  white  pon\ .  .Void 
stepped  into  the  road  in  front  of  the  pony. 

"  It's  only  I,  doctor  ;  \<>cl  I  hi  \  a  I.  grandson  lo  I  he  Widow 
Marston,"  he  said,  iii  a  whisper.  "Iion'i  make  an}  noise! 
Was  every  th  ing  qniet  at  tin-  village  w  lieu  you  left  .'" 

"Quiet  as  usual,  and  that's  quiet  enough,  for  certain. 
But  what's  the  matter,  lad  ?  Why  are  yon  slopping  people 
in  the  high-road  in  this  way  1  And  why  are  yon  Ircmbling 
and  panting  so?  That's  not  like  a  highwayman." 

"They're  going  to  attack  the  village  —  raiders  from 
Canada!  There's  no  time  to  explain!  lint  yon  must  let 
me  have  the  pony!  I'm  all  tired  out — and  I  must  get  to 
the  village!" 

For  a  moment  the  doctor  scrutinized  the  boy's  face.  Then 
he  got  down  from  the  pony.  "  I  was  going  t  o  I  .1  nn.'i  Ton- 
well's,  who's  down  with  bis  rheumatism  again,  but  he  shall 
wait.  I  wouldn't  do  this  a  t  every  boy's  word,  bill  you  look 
as  if  you  know  what  you're  about,  and  I  will  take  the. 
chance." 

Already  Noel  had  sprung  to  the  saddle  and  turned  the 
pony  back  toward  the  village. 

"  Look  out  for  my  saddle-bags,"  said  the  doctor.  "  There's 
enough  costly  drugs  in  them  to  kill  all  the  English  in  Can- 
ada. I'll  follow  on  slowly,  anil  'twill  go  hard  with  you  if 
you've  been  trifling  with  me." 

Biit  the  boy  was  out  of  hearing.  It  seemed  as  if  Provi- 
dence had  come  to  the  aid  of  his  weak  body,  and  Noel,  with 
renewed  hope  of  reaching  the  village  in  time  to  give  the 
alarm,  urged  on  the  sturdy  white  pony. 

They  had  almost  reached  the  outskirts  of  the  little  town 
when  a  man  on  horseback  rode  into  the  middle  of  the  road, 
aud  confronting  Noel,  ordered  him  to  stop.  Noel  thought 
he  recognized  the  dress  of  the  Canadian  scouts.  He  bent 
low  on  the  saddle  aud  struck  the  pony  sharply.  An  in- 
stant later  a  rifle  blazed  in  his  face.  Then  he  realized 
that  in  some  way  the  white  pony  had  got  by  the  other 
horse  and  was  galloping  down  the  road,  terrified  by  the 
rifle's  flash.  The  scout's  pony  was  close  behind. 

The  white  pony  was  running  as  it  had  not  done  since  it 
was  a  colt  in  lower  Canada, and  had  carried  its  habitant 
master  in  many  a  race,  and  won  them,  too.  Noel  w  as  con- 
scious of  a  feeling  of  exultation  ;  for  he  saw  that  the  scout 
was  losing  ground.  He  cried  out  to  his  pursuer  in  French, 
and  started  to  wave  his  hand  in  a  derisive  farewell.  The 
effort  caused  a  sharp  pain  to  shoot  through  his  arm,  and  lie 
found  that  his  hand  and  wrist  were  covered  with  blood. 
The  scout's  bullet  had  toru  its  way  through  the  flesh  of  his 
forearm. 

He  grew  very  faint,  and  had  to  clutch  the  saddle  tightly 
with  his  knees  to  keep  from  falling.  His  weak  arm  had 
served  to  hold  the  reins,  but  it  was  good  for  little  else. 
lie  was  so  dizzy  that  he  could  hardly  see,  and  he  only  dim- 
ly realized  that  he  was  close  to  the  streams  of  light  coming 
from  the  windows  of  the  village  tavern.  The  sound  of  a 
galloping  horse  brought  several  men  to  the  tavern 
door. 

"Raiders  from  Canada  are  coming!  They're  dose  b\  !"  h,- 
gasped, then  his  head  swam  round  and  he  tell  from  the 
saddle.  After  that  there  was  much  shouting  and  hurry- 
ing to  and  fro,  and  finally  the  beating  of  a  drum  and  the, 
quick  clang  of  the  bell  in  the  village  church.  But  Nod, 
stretched  out  on  a  table  in  the  tavern,  was  undisturbed  by 
all  the  turmoil. 

Even  Congress  heard  of  what  had  occurred  that  warm 
.July  night  by  the  Canadian  border,  and  when  the  war  was 
ended.  Nod  Ihival  was  remembered  in  such  a  substantial 
wax  that  he  was  able  to  provide  a  good  home  for  his  mo 
(her  and  the  old  Widow  Marston  and  for  little  Ninette,  and 
to  keep  poverty  from  ever  again  pinching  tin  m, 

OIK-  day   in    the   ant  num.  Nod,  w  ho  was    now  quite    well 

of    his    wound,  was    asked     i m<     to    the    drill-ground. 

Jac i-  I'.oontcr  met  him.  and  led    him    to 

r:m>  of  boys  wi  re   drawn   up  in   liie  il,"  ho 

said.  "  we  ask  yon  if  \uti  will  pli  II  captain  f" 


811 


RASPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


THE   LAZY  HOUR. 

SO  bright  are  the  branches, 
The  shadows  so  cool, 
So  dark  is  the  water, 
So  deep  is  the  pool, 
So  hard  is  the  lesson, 

So  hot  is  the  school — 
If  I  were  the  son  of  a  merman 
I  never  should  hear  of  a  rule! 

Light  as  the  arrow 

Springs  from  the  bow, 
Off  the  big  ledges 

Down  I  should  go 
Into  the  hollow 

Whose  secret  I  know, 
I"|p  I  should  come  like  a  bubble, 
Shake  off  the  water  and  blow ! 

Now  for  a  breast  stroke 

Under  the  tide — 
Arm  o'er  arm  sweeping 

I  float  on  my  side; 
Deep  in  green  crystal 

Slowly  I  slide. 

There  goes  the  class  up  in  Caesar ! 
I  wish  I'd  a  corner  to  hide! 

HARRIET  PRESCOTT  SPOFFORD. 


ARTIFICIAL  ICE. 

SIGN-BOARDS  bearing  the  legend  "  Boston  ice  "  over  the 
doors  of  cellars  and  other  places  where  ice  was  kept  for 
sale  have  long  been  a  familiar  sight  in  the  South.    During 
the    last    twelve    years, 
however,    nearly     every 
Southern  town   of  impor- 
tance has  established  its 
own  factory  for  making 
ice,  and   the  process  has 
become    so    perfect    and 
cheap  that  the   artificial 
ice    competes    with    the 
natural    article    shipped 
from   the  New  England 
States. 

The  cost  of  transpor- 
tation, handling,  and  en- 
ormous waste  by  melting 
serves  to  make  "  Boston 
ice  "a  costly  luxury  to 
tliij  Southern  consumer. 
This  has  stimulated  the 
invention  of  improved 
methods  of  making  artifi- 
cial ice. 

On  his  first  visit  to  an 
ice  factory,  one  who  is 
not  familiar  with  ire- 
making  machinery  will 
be  surprised  to  see  large 
steam-engines  and  boil- 
ers, with  great  piles  of 
coal,  and  will  wonder 
how  the  use  of  fire  and 
steam  can  assist  in  pro- 
ducing cold;  but  a  little 
understanding  of  the 
chemistry  of  the  process 
will  enable  him  to  per- 
ceive the  need  of  such 
machinery. 

All  objects  contain   a 

certain   amount  of  heat.  AN   ICE    "CAN.' 

The  capacity  for  retain- 
ing this  heat  varies  in  different  substances.     Liquids  retain 
more  than  solids,  and  gases  more  than  liquids.     If  gases  be 
compressed,  their  heat-retaining  capacity  will  be  reduced 


hi  proportion.  Nearly  all  of  the  known  gases  may  be  com- 
pressed until  they  assume  the  liquid  form.  Gas  made  from 
ammonia  when  subjected  to  a  pressure  of  about  oue  hun- 
dred anil  fifty  pounds  to  the  square  inch,  becomes  a  liquid. 
Should  the  pressure  be  now  removed,  the  liquid  ammonia 
will  instantly  rush  into  gas  again,  and  in  doing  so  tries  to 
absorb  the  heat  which  has  been  squeezed  out  of  it. 

If  this  expansion  into  gas  be  allowed  to  take  place  in 
pipes  sunk  in  brine.it  will  draw  all  the  heat  out  of  the 
brine,  and  cause  the  brine  to  become  cold  enough  to  freeze 
fresh  water  in  cans  suspended  in  it,  and  convert  the  fresh 
water  in  the  cans  into  solid  ice. 

In  the  factories  which  freeze  the  water  in  cans  there  is 
provided  a  very  large  brine-chamber  or  vat,  so  deep  that 
the  cans  may  be  immersed  in  it  nearly  to  their  tops.  The 
cans  are  about  four  feet  deep,  and  are  made  of  galvanized 
iron.  They  are  filled  with  pure  water,  aud  let  down  into 
the  brine  through  openings  in  the  top  of  the  vat.  Between 
the  rows  of  water-cans  are  tiers  of  iron  pipes  running  back 
and  forth  through  the  brine,  aud  throughout  these  pipes 
the  expansion  of  gas  takes  place,  cooling  the  brine  to  ten 
degrees  below  zero.  Ice  soon  begins  to  form  on  the  inside 
aud  bottom  of  the  cans  under  the  influence  of  this  intense 
cold.  It  becomes  thicker  aud  thicker,  until  it  is  finally  a 
solid  mass  of  clear  crystal  ice,  usually  with  a  small  core  of 
opaque  or  snowy  ice,  exactly  through  the  centre. 

As  fast  as  their  contents  are  frozen  the  cans  are  removed 
by  a  special  lifting  apparatus,  aud  dipped  for  a  minute  into 
hot  water  to  loosen  the  block  from  the  can.  Then  it  slides 
out  easily,  aud  is  stored  away  for  use. 

There  are  other  factories  conducted  on  a  somewhat-  dif- 
ferent plan  from  the  foregoing,  in  which  the  ice  is  made  to 
form  on  iron  plates,  in  cakes  weighing  several  tons  each. 
In  such  factories  the  brine  -  chamber  is  in  the  shape  of 

double  partition  walls  of 
iron  plates,  about  four 
inches  apart.  The  parti- 
tion divides  a  deep  wood- 
en water-tank  into  two 
equal  rooms,  aud  in  the 
narrow  space  between 
the  iron  plates  the  brine 
and  pipes  for  the  ammo- 
nia gas  are  placed.  The 
rooms  are  filled  with 
pure  water,  which  is  iii 
contact  with  the  brine- 
i-hamber  on  one  side.  Ice 
soon  begins  to  form  on 
the  iron  side  plates,  pre- 
cisely in  the  same  way 
as  on  a  pond  or  river,  ex- 
cept that  the  sheet  of  ice 
is  vertical  instead  of  ho- 
rizontal. Only  about 
half  of  the  water  in  the 
rooms  is  allowed  to 
freeze. 

When  the  cakes  of  ice 
are  considered  In  be  of 
sufficient  thickness,  the 
cold  brine  is  pumped  out 
of  its  compartment  into 
another  tank,  aud  its 
place  is  filled  with  wa- 
ter of  ordinary  tempera- 
ture. This  soon  thaws 
the  ice  cakes  loose  from 
the  plates,  and  allows  the 
mass  of  ice  to  be  lifted 
out  by  hoisting  machin- 
ery. The  ice  is  then 
passed  on  to  the  sawing- 
machiue,  which  divides 
it  into  blocks  weighing 

about  two  hundred  pounds  each.  The  only  essential  dif- 
ference in  the  two  systems  described  lies  in  the  fact 
that  in  the  can  method  all  the  water  is  frozen,  and  if 


812 


HAEPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


there  be  any  impurity  in  tbe  water  the 
ice  will  contain  it.  Ill  the  plate  method 
tbe  ice  is  formed  entirely  from  one  side 
of  the  cake,  and  only  about  one-half  of  the 
water  is  allowed  to  congeal  into  solid  ice. 
Since  water,  in  freezing,  tends  to  purify  it- 
self in  the  way  in  which  the  natural  ice 
of  ponds  and  rivers  purifies  itself,  the  plate 
method  more  nearly  resembles  the  natural 
way,  and  tbe  ice  shows  its  characteristic 
structure. 

After  having  performed  its  work  in 
cooling  the  brine,  the  expanded  gas  is 
drawn  from  the  pipes  by  means  of  power- 
ful steam -pumps,  and  it  is  then  com- 
pressed into  a  coil  of  iron  pipes  kept  im- 
mersed iu  a  tank  of  cold  running  water. 
This  compression  of  the  expanded  gas  re- 
quires very  heavy  machinery,  and  the  op- 
eration develops  much  heat,  which  is  ab- 
sorbed by  the  running  water.  In  other 
words,  tbe  expanding  gas  having  absorb- 
ed much  heat  from  the  brine,  and  having 
been  made  cold  by  this  means,  must  be 
deprived  of  the  heat  thus  gained  by  com- 
pression again  into  a  coil  surrounded  by 
running  water,  which  takes  away  tbe  heat 
as  soon  as  it  is  developed  by  compres- 
sion. 

Being  now  restored  to  the  liquid  form, 
the  gas  is  ready  to  go  on  another  round, 
and  may  be  used  again  and  again.  The 
only  loss  of  gas  sustained  is  from  leaky 
joints  in  tbe  pipes. 

It  is  a  curious  sight  to  see  these  pipes  and  pumps,  even 
in  tbe  hottest  weather,  all  coated  with  a  thick  layer  of 
snow-white  frost,  so  thick  that  it  may  bo  scraped  off  with 
the  hands  and  squeezed  into  a  snowball.  The  brine-pumps 
soon  lose  their  characteristic  shape,  and  are  scarcely  recog- 


A    BLOCK    THAT    STOOD    SOME    TIME    IN    THE    SUN. 


uizalile, looking  more  like  a  fantastic  snow-drift  than  a  piece 
of  iron  machinery. 

Sometimes  we  see  fine  fruit  or  a  bouquet  of  hnndsome 
flowers  which  had  been  so  placed  iu  the  water  as  to  become 
frozen  iu  tbe  centre  of  a  large  block  of  crystal  ice.  Such 
objects  form  beautiful  ornaments  while  they  last. 

Many  people  believe  that  coal  is  really  at  the  fonmla- 
tiou  of  cheap  ice,  and  that  it  will  presently  be  cheaper  to 
use  coal  to  make  ice  than  to  use  it  iu  transporting  ice  to 
the  place  where  it  is  wanted.  Artificial  ice  is  already  pro- 
duced iu  considerable  quantities  in  districts  where  natural 
ice  is  also  cut  for  the  market. 


A    BLOCK    OF   MANUFACTURED    ICE. 


GRANDFATHER'S  ADVENTURES. 

AS   A    PIRATE. 

RALPH,"  said  Grandfather  Sterling,  one  winter's  even- 
ing, as  they  sat  together  before  a  fire  of  crackling 
logs,  and   listened  with   a  dreamy  sense  of  suuguess  and 
comfort  to  the  bowlings  of  the  storm  without,  "  did  I  ever 
tell  you  about  the  time  that  I  was  a  phate  .'" 

"Grandpop !"  exclaimed  the  startled  boy,  "yon  don't 
mean  to  .say  that  you  were  once  a  real  pirate,  the  kind  that 
rob  people  and  cut  their  throats  and  all  that. just  like  the 
story  of  Captain  Kidd  in  my  school  Reader?" 

Grandfather  Sterling  nodded  his  head  iu  assent. 

"Yes,  Ralph,  your  grandfather  once  sailed  under  the 
black-flag  having  a  white  skull  and  cross-bones  painted  on 
it,  and,  what  is  more,  he  was  a  member  of  the  crew  of  the 
pirate  schooner  .Dragon,' commanded  by  Captain  Kraml,  the 
most  notorious  pirate  that  ever  cruised  among  the  West 
India  Islands." 

An  amused  smile  crept  over  the  old  sea-captain's  face, 
and  his  eyes  twinkled  mischievously  as  be  detected  bis 
nephew's  horrified,  pained,  and  reproachful  look. 

"  Well,  Ralph,'' said  his  grandfather,  with  an  aliccied  air 
of  shame  and  remorse,  "  I'll  tell  you  how  it  happened  : 

"You  see,  it  was  in\  see I  \oyageas  I  my  on  board  of  the 

brig  Saucy,  commanded    by  Captain   Abraham    Smiili,    lie 
longini;  down  Salem  wa\  in  Massachusetts, and  tnnlini:  be- 
tween that  port  and  the  \\  <  s1  In. lies.     We  left  harbor  one 
summer  morning,  loaded  with  all  Kin. I    of  bardj  I 
which  we  expected  lo  exchange  in  Cuba  for  siiunr. 


813 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


n  fortnight  at  sea  we  sighted  San  Salvador  Island,  belong- 
ing to  the  Bahama  group,  which  island,  by-the-\vay,  was 
the  first  land  that  Columbus  discovered  ou  his  great  voy- 
age. That  afternoon  we  were  sailing  along  past  Crooked 
Island,  which  lies  jnst  to  the  southward  of  San  Salvador, 
when  a  trim-looking  schooner  with  very  tall  masts,  on 
which  were  spread  enormous  fore-and-aft  sails,  stood  out 
from  under  the  lee  of  the  laud,  and  came  down  rapidly 
upon  us.  Knowing  that  we  could  not  escape  from  her.  the 
stranger  openly  showed  his  colors — the  pirate's  black-flag. 
We  crowded  every  stitch  of  canvas  on  the  poor  little 
Haitcy,  but  in  less  than  an  hour  the  pirate  was  so  close  that 
his  shot  commenced  to  carry  away  our  spars  and  rigging. 

"  '  Men,'  said  our  Captain,  '  there's  no  good  in  trying  to 
escape,  so  let  us  heave  to.  Perhaps  when  he  finds  out  that 
our  cargo  is  of  110  value  he  will  let  us  go  our  way.' 

"  Well,  we  shortened  sail  at  once,  and  put  our  wheel 
<lowu,  waiting  for  the  enemy  to  board  us.  Seeing  that  we 
had  given  up  the  race,  the  pirate  kept  getting  iu  his  light 
.sails  as  he  swept  down  on  us,  and  after  he  had  forged  ahead 
a  little  he  tacked  ship,  leaving  his  jib  to  windward,  and  so 
laid  hove  to.  Immediately  one  of  his  boats  pulled  out  from 
under  the  lee  of  the  schooner,  and  a  minute  later  was  along- 
side of  us. 

"Preceded  by  a  fair,  handsome,  lightly  built  man,  who 
proved  to  be  none  other  than  Captain  Brand,  a  dozen 
swarthy,  evil-looking  pirates,  armed  to  the  teeth,  tumbled 
over  the  rail.  Captain  Smith  stepped  forward  to  address 
the  chief,  but  was  immediately  cut  down  with  a  cutlass 
wielded  by  the  latter,  who  haughtily  remarked, 

"  '  Excuse  me,  I've  no  time  for  conversation.' 

"The  pirate's  action  was  a  signal  to  his  men,  and  before 
our  crew  could  offer  the  slightest  resistance  they  shared 
the  master's  fate.  A  wicked-looking  scoundrel  with  an 
ugly  scar  across  his  cheek  made  a  savage  swiug  at  me  with 
his  sword,  but  before  the  blow  could  fall  the  pirate's  cut- 
lass was  aeut  flying  from  his  grasp,  and  he  uttered  a  shriek 
of  pain  and  seized  his  arm  where  Brand's  blow  had  fallen. 

"  '  I  don't  make  war  on  children,'  was  all  that  the  Cap- 
tain said. 

"Fifteen  minutes  later  the  *«»<•</  had  been  ransacked 
and  set  ou  fire,  aud  sick  at  heart  I  was  ou  board  the 
schooner,  having  been  given  to  understand  that  my  name 
had  been  entered  as  a  pirate's  apprentice,  aud  that  I  was 
a  regular  member  of  the  crew  aud  must  obey  orders. 

"  At  once  the  word  was  passed  to  get  the  vessel  under 
way,  and  I  found  myself  trailing  on  to  the  fore-topsail  hal- 
yards alongside  of  a  sad-looking  lad  of  about  my  own  age, 
who  was  addressed  by  the  men  as  Dick,  and  who,  I  took 
it  rightly,  had  been  forced  to  join  the  Dragon  under  similar 
coudit  ions  to  my  own. 

"That  night  we  two  found  ourselves  in  the  same  watch, 
aud,  after  answering  to  roll-call,  we  stowed  ourselves  away 
between  two  of  the  guns  and  exchanged  confidences.  Later 
ou  we  talked  over  various  plans  to  gain  our  freedom.  Dick 
informed  me  that  the  schooner  was  ou  her  way  to  the  pi- 
rates' stronghold,  where  he  had  been  once  before,  on  the 
island  of  Tortugas,  there  to  divide  the  spoils  of  the  voyage, 
and  to  gamble  aud  carouse  for  several  days  before  starting 
on  another  expedition. 

"  Two  days  later  we  reached  the  island  in  a  small  secure- 
ly locked  bay  ou  the  western  side.  After  lowering  aud 
furling  the  sails,  a  chest  about  two  feet  square  was  brought 
out  on  deck,  aud  its  contents,  consisting  of  gold  aud  silver, 
money  aud  jewels,  were  divided  among  the  men  by  Captain 
Braud.  After  that  a  barrel  of  rum  was  lowered  into  the 
long  boat,  aud  the  crew  entered  her  and  rowed  away,  leav- 
ing I  he  Captain  aud  we  two  boys  the  only  ones  ou  board. 

"Late  in  the  evening  Captain  Brand  ordered  Dick  to  row 
liim  ashore,  aud  I  was  left  alone.  About  an  hour  later  Dick 
,si  nlled  the  boat  quietly  alongside  out  of  the  darkness, 
climbed  ou  board,  and  addressed  me  in  an  excited  whisper: 

"  '  Now's  our  time,  Sterling  ;  the  Captain  has  gone  up  to 
his  shore  house  and  thinks  I'm  waiting  for  him  on  (lie 
beach  ;  we  will  cut  the  cable,  aud  the  wind  will  set  us  out 
of  the  bay  ;  they  can't  follow  us,  for  I've  sent  their  boat 
adrift,  with  the  plug  pulled  out  so  that  it  will  sink  !' 

••  While  Dick  ran  to  the  wheel  I  jumped  forward  aud 


sawed  my  knife  through  the  anchor  hawser,  aud  immediate- 
ly saw  the  schooner's  head  falling  oft"  against  the  stars  un- 
der the  influence  of  the  easterly  wind.  In  a  quarter  of  au 
hour  we  were  outside  the  month  of  the  harbor  and  drifting 
to  the  westward.  We  knew  that  we  never  could  hoist  the, 
sails  and  handle  the  vessel  to  sail  anywhere,  ami  thai  if  a 
galr  sprang  up  we  would  probably  founder  ;  but  these  dan- 
gers could  not  rob  us  of  great  happiuess,  for  we  realized 
that  we  were  free  from  the  pirates'  clutches. 

"During  the  night  we  took  turns  at  steering  the  schooner 
so  as  to  keep  her  before  the  wind,  but  just  before  daybreak 
it  fell  a  flat  calm.  When  the  suu  rose  Dick  was  the  first  to 
see  a  large  man-of-war  about  a  mile  away  on  our  beam, 
also  lying  becalmed.  They  made  us  out  at  the  same  time, 
and  evidently  disliking  our  looks  they  fitted  out  three 
large  launches  with  guns  in  their  bows,  aud  pulled  toward 
us.  When  they  got  within  hailing  distance  we  told  our 
story.  One  of  the  boats  then  came  alongside  and  took 
possession  of  the  pirate  craft.  Dick  aud  I  were  then  sent 
off  to  the  cruiser  to  tell  our  story  to  her  Captain. 

"  Well,  Ralph,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  the  commauder 
of  the  man-of-war  determined  to  take  the  jiirat.es  by  sur- 
prise, if  possible,  so  he  stood  off  to  the  northeast  all  day  to 
get  the  island  under  his  lee,  and  when  night  fell  he  crowded 
on  sail  and  ran  for  the  place  that  we  had  escaped  from 
twenty-four  hours  before.  We  made  the  entrance  to  the 
harbor  about  midnight,  aud  while  the  man-of-war  remained 
hove  to,  all  the  boats  were  fitted  out  aud  sent  in  to  the  bay. 

"About  an  hour  later  we  heard  the  sound  of  distant  fir- 
ing, aud  toward  morning  the  boats  returned  with  all  the 
officers  aud  men  safe  and  sound,  who  stated  that  they  had 
found  the  pirates  stupefied  with  drink,  and  had  made  short 
work  of  the  gang.  Captain  Braud,  however,  hail  not  beeu 
seen,  and  it  was  supposed  that  he  had  escaped  to  the  in- 
terior of  the  island. 

"  Now,  Ralph,  you  have  the  history  of  your  grandfather 
at  the  time  he  was  a  pirate  and  sailed  under  the  black-flag 
•with  Captaiu  Braud,  the  notorious  robber  chief." 


CORPORAL    FRED.* 

A  Story  of  the  Riots. 

BY    CAPTAIN     CHARLES     KING,     U.S.A. 


CHAPTER     IV. 

T7OUR  miles  away,  in  the  heart  of  the  great  city,  a 
m  throng  of  men  aud  women  and  children  surrounded 
the  massive  stone  walls,  and  peered  up  at  the  narrow  win- 
dows of  a  formidable -looking  building,  from  whose  lofty 
flag-staff  the  Stars  aud  Stripes  were  fluttering  in  the  fresh 
lake  breeze — a  crowd  even  denser  than  that  we  saw  iu  the 
distant  dusty  yards.  Here,  too,  among  them  were  faces 
grave  with  anxiety.  Here,  too,  among  the  women  were 
eyes  red  with  tears;  but  here  all  was  sileuce  and  order. 
Suddenly  from  within  the  huge  brown  walls  there  rose  the 
shrill  summons  of  the  bugle,  souudiug  iu  quick,  spirited 
call  the  well-known  "assembly,"  and  in  company  rooms, 
crowded  to  suffocation  by  wives,  mothers,  sisters,  sweet- 
hearts, aud  friends  of  the  guardsmen,  the  men  of  the  — th 
regiment  fell  iu  for  roll-call.  Almost  at  the  same  moment, 
iu  other  sections  of  the  city,  the  same  sigual  called  two 
other  commands  to  their  rauks.  The  State  was  waking  up 
at  last,  but  waking  up  iu  earnest. 

Down  iu  the  paved  court  below  the  chargers  of  the  field 
aud  staff  officers  were  awaiting  their  riders,  every  swish 
of  their  tails  slashing  the  faces  of  boys  aud  men  wedged  iu 
au  almost  solid  mass  about  them.  Orders  had  beeu  given 
that  only  members  of  the  regiment  and  people  having  im- 
portaut  business  with  its  officers  should  be  allowed  within 
the  walls;  but  the  summons  for  duty  had  reached  over 
eight  hundred  of  its  men  while  still  at  their  places  of  bnsi- 
uess  downtown.  There  was  no  time  to  go  home,  and  the 
Colonel  could  uot  resist  the  pleas  that  came  from  without. 
First  by  threes  aud  fours,  then  by  dozens,  scores,  aud  finally 
iu  one  uninterrupted  stream,  relatives  aud  friends,  followed 
•Begun  iu  HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE  No.  821 


814 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


V>y  mere  cnriosity-seekera,  swept  past  tlie  guarded  gates, 
until  tlir  great  interior  was  packed,  and  there  was  no  room 
for  more.      Before  it  was  possible  to  form  tin-  command  in 
the  big  drill-hall   the  guards  had  to  clear  the  court,  then 
drive  all  men  and  buys  into  the  space  thus  redeemed,  and 
post   a  solid  section  across  the  sally-port  to  hold  it  against 
further  ingress.      It  was  3.50  when  the  Colonel  was  handed 
his  orders,  and  touched   the  button  that  Hashed   the  sum- 
mons to  each  company  commander.      It   was  just  5.45  when 
he  reported  his  command  in  readiness,  and  just,  6.30  when, 
amidst  a  storm  of  cheers,  tears,  and  God-speeds,  through  a 
flashing  sea  of  \\hite  handkerchiefs  he  guided  his  stall  led. 
spirited  horse,  and  followed  by  his  staff  ami  a  solid  column 
of  fours,  eight  hundred  strong,  turned  into  the  broad  avenue 
and  led  the  way.     No  exultant  strain  of  martial  music,  no 
gayly  decked  bandsmen  at  the  head  of  the  regiment ;  only 
the  hoarse  throb  of  the  drums.      No  nodding  plumes   ami 
snowy  helmets,  cross-belts,  trousers.     This  was  war's  array, 
magnificently  stern,  but  as  magnificently  simple.     Officers 
and   men   alike   wore   the  drab   slouch  hat   of  the   regu- 
lars in  the  Held,  and  the  sombre  blouses  of  dark  blue,  the 
broad  drab  ammunition  belt,  crammed  with    copper   car- 
tridges, the  browu  equipments,  haversacks,  leggings,  etc., 
all  without  an  atom  of  show  or  tinsel.      Kven  the  popular 
idea  of  glittering  bayonet  and  gleaming  nmsUet  seemed  re- 
buked, for  the  sloping  Spiingtields  were  brown  and  busi- 
nesslike as  the  belts  and  leggings.     Out  they  strode  with 
steady   swinging   step,  and   the   heart  of  the   great  city 
seemed  to  leap  to  its  throat,  the  spray  of  the  eastward  bil- 
lows to  its  blinking  eyes,  for  riot,  insurrection,  defiance  to 
law  and  order,  peace  and  security,  had  again  burst  forth, 
and  were  raging  every  instant  nearer  and  nearer  its  very 
vitals.     Police  and  sheriff  had  grappled  or  cajoled  in  vain, 
and  here  at  last  was  its  right  arm — the  hope  and  stivimih 
and  pride   of  house  and    home,  the   pet  regiment    of  the 
Western  metropolis  was  being  sent  to  check  the  torrent 
where  it  raged  its  maddest,  through  that  mile-long  reach 
of  the  Great  Western  yards.     "Eight  hundred  strong  with 
more  a-comiug,"  as  the  papers  put  it,  the  — th  went  swing- 
ing down  the  applauding  avenue  to  face  far  more  than  ten 
times  its  weight   in  foes.      No  wonder  women  wept    and 
waved  their  hands,  and  strong  men  prayed  as  they  said 
God-speed  and  good -by. 

Ont  to  the  rioters  flashed  the  news  of  the  muster.  Train- 
men, switchmen,  one  and  all,  knew  the  coining  force.  Many 
a  time  had  they  carried  them  to  the  summer  encampments 
ill  the  interior  of  the  State.  More  than  once  within  the 
year  had  they  hurried  them  away  to  the  scene  of  some  mad 
outbreak  among  the  mines  and  iron-works.  The  masses  of 
the  mob  might  hoot  and  jeer  and  cry  derision  and  boast  of 
the  reception  they  would  give  the  "dudes,"  the  ''tin  sol- 
diers" ;  but  these  railway  men,  schooled  themselves  in  les- 
sons of  order  and  discipline,  knew  the  stern  stuff  of  which 
the  regiment  was  really  made.  Already  the  thinking  men 
among  them  had  begun  to  edge  away,  leaving  only  an  occa- 
sional crack-brained  enthusiast  like  Farley  in  the  crowd. 
Long  since  had  the  promoters  of  the  row,  such  restless  agi- 
tators as  Steinman  and  Frenzal,  slipped  off  to  shelter, 
where  neither  bullet  nor  bayonet  could  reach  them,  but 
where  they  could  dictate  further  violence  and  plan  madder 
schemes.  Over  about  the  deserted  shops,  away  from  the 
mad  tumult  of  the  yards,  numbers  of  the  strikers  stood  in 
gloomy  contemplation  of  the  wreck,  but  taking  no  further 
part  in  the  proceedings.  Work  had  been  suspended  during 
the  day,  for  such  was  the  need  of  old  and  trusted  hands  in 
the  passenger  stations  and  on  the  abandoned  switch-en- 
gines that  other  foremen  besides  stern  old  Wallace  had 
been  called  away,  and  these  were  stalwarts  to  whom  the 
strikers  had  appealed  in  vain.  Struck  between  the  eyes 
by  a  coupling-pin  while  handling  the  lever  of  a  switch-en- 
gine an  hour  before,  Mr.  Aiuslie,  the  master-mechanic  of 
the  Air  Line,  had  just  been  borne  by  in  an  ambulance  :  and 
Wallace,  looking  even  older,  sadder,  sterner,  than  he  did  at 
dawn,  bore  down  upon  the  uintt'ering  shamefaced  group  ai 
In-  returned  for  his  coat,  hanging  there  on  its  accustomed 
pen  in  the  darkening  shops.  Something  of  the  smoulder- 
ing lire  in  his  eyes  seemed  to  overawe  them,  for  they  gave 
way  in  sullen  silence,  many  of  them  turning  to  avoid  the 


glower  of  the  old  Scotchman's  ga/.e,  and  lei  him  h\  without 
a  word.  There  were  those  among  them  who  earlier  in  tin- 
day  could  have  cried  him  shame  for  his  blunt  refusal  to 
either  strike  or  sympathize.  Sloltz,  who  called  upon  him 
with  fiery  words  and  tierce  gest  iculal  ion  at  ten  «', 'lock,  had 
been  told  to  go  and  stay.  At  one,  when  mm  wen-  n, ,  .1.  ,1 
to  man  the  engines,  he  had  sent,  word  to  .lim  to  come  and 
take  his  place  in  a  cab  and  handle  the  lever  like  a  man,  or 
keep  out  of  his  si  ght  till  he  could  behave  like  one  :  ,-ind  as  no 
Jim  came,  the  father  himself  manned  the  throttle  of  the  lirst 
engine  to  force  a  way  to  the  \ards.just  in  time  to  see  his 
beloved  sou  shot  down,  apparently  by  the  senseless  folly 
of  a  deputy  trained  neither  to  aim  nor  to  endure.  His  heart 
was  hot  against  the  leaders  who  had  brought  this  madness 
on  the  men  he  had  known  and  almost  swayed  for  years, 
and  he  could  not  refrain  from  harsh  invective  now.  Halt- 
ing short,  he  turned  upon  the  sullen  group. 

"Are  yon  satisfied  with  your  v\ork  now,  \  on  blind,  mis- 
guided fools?  Have  you  gained  one  point  ?  You've  struck 
down — killed,  perhaps — the  best  man  that  ever  handled  a 
wrench  in  these  shops.  You've  stoned  my  tlesh  and  blood. 
Why  don't  you  mob  me?  I  would  have  run  that  engine 
back  until  every  track  was  clear  hail  I  had  my  way.  Why 
don't  yon  mob  me?  I  begged  Mr.  Williams  to  let  me  go 
and  fetch  away  those  trains,  car  by  car,  if  need  be.  Why 
don't  yon  mob  me,  I  say?  Your  advisers  are  frauds,  and 
you  are  fools  or  worse.  Look  there  at  your  doinn!"  he 
cried,  pointing  to  the  heaping  wreck  up  the  long  lines  of 
rail. 

They  would  not  answer  him.  Some  already  realized  the 
extent  of  their  blunder ;  others,  sullen  and  disheartened, 
knew  not  how.  All  seemed  to  start  and  turn  as  though  at 
sound  of  a  familiar  voice,  when  a  man  stepped  from  the 
open  office  door  and  began  to  speak,  calmly  at  first,  then 
with  growing  resonance  and  elli-et .  as  I  hough  he  were  again 
upon  the  rostrum  preaching  to  the  oppressed. 

"No  one  would  willingly  harm  you,  Mr.  Wallace;  no  one 
would  knowingly  have  injured  Mr.  Ainslie.  Our  people, 
even  when  wronged  and  down-trodden,  respect  gray  hairs, 
but  the  time  has  come  when  even  patience  has  its  limit. 
We  are  not  the  wreckers  yonder,  though  we  well  might  be. 
All  that  is  the  work  of  a  great  sympathetic  people,  long 
protesting  agaiust  the  tyranny  to  which  we  have  bowed  in 
the  past.  We  would  have  spared  the  road  and  its  officials 
as  we  have  spared  you,  but  let  inf.-  say  to  you  now  the  blow 
that  downed  your  son  was  a  blessing  in  disguise,  for  had 
he  joined  those  coming  minions  of  the  government — those 
fancy  soldiers  of  the  aristocratic  wards — I  would  not  be 
answerable  for  what  might  happen,  not  only  to  him,  but  to 
yon  and  yours." 

Wallace  let  the  speaker  finish  before  he  strode  a  loug 
step  nearer. 

"You  made  those  threats  last  night."  he  thundered, 
shaking  his  bony  forefinger  under  the  other's  rubicund  nose. 
"  I  know  your  voice,  and  I  want  to  know  your  name.  Who 
are  you,  I  say,  who  have  come  here  sowing  seeds  of  riot 
among  honest  Men  ?  You  dare  not  give,  your  name,  and 
these  men  will  not.  My  own  son  said  he  could  not  tell  me. 
No  man  afraid  or  ashamed  of  his  name  was  ever  in  honest 
work.  I  answer  you  that  if  he  hasn't  gone  already,  ju-i  so 
soon  as  he  can  stir  my  boy  shall  take  his  place,  musket  in 
hand,  and  you  and  yours  may  do  your  cow  a  nil  \  worst." 

"  You've  had  fair  warning,  Mr.  Wai  lace,"  said  t  he  stranger, 
backing  uneasily  away  from  the  menacing  hand  ol  the  old 
mechanic.  "You've  done  enough  already  to  merit  mob- 
bing, as  you  call  it,  and  it  was  our  mercy  and  our  for- 
bearance that  spared  yon  in  the  cab  this  day.  IJnt  as  for 
those  who  live  in  this  suburb  ami  have  gone  to  join  the 
gang  of  organized  murder,  and,  under  the  t;uise  ot  militia- 
men, to  shoot  down  their  suffering  brothers,  may  l[c-a\<-n 
help  them  if  they  once  again  show  their  faces  ' 

And  even  as  the  speaker  finished,  over  in  the  yards,  be- 
yond the  long  line  of  brown  freight  ears,  went  up  a  yell  of 
wrath,  a  savage  MU-I  of  cheer  that  seemed  to  carry  a  shud- 
der with  it,  a  sound  as  of  the  rush  of  a  thousand  fed.  and 
presently  men  came  darting  urn: nhlim;  upon  tin- 
cars,  and  gazing  eagerly  through  or  over  the  high 
that  separated  them  from  the  shop  enclosure.  ' 


815 


'YOU    MADE    THOSE    THREATS    LAST    NIGHT?"    HE    THUNDERED. 


ing  sight  of  the  gathering  at  the  main  entrance,  and  recog- 
nizing some  familiar  form,  many  among  them  began  to  ges- 
ticulate, and  cries  were  heard  of  "There  he  is!"  "Traitor!" 
"  Scab !"  "  Scoundrel !"  And  lists  were  clinched,  and  clubs 
were  brandished,  and  mure  men  clambered  to  the  car  roofs, 
and  buys  beat  upon  tlie  fence  with  stones,  and  shouted 
shrill  taunt  and  insult. 

"  Yon  hear  f "  said  the  stranger.  "  They're  talking  about 
you  now,  and  the  traitor  work  you've  done  this  day.  Will 
you  go  to  your  home  and  stay  there,  and  see  to  it  that  Fred 
makes  no  attempt  to  join  his  regiment  ?  Will  yon  promise 
— promise  to  pull  no  throttle,  handle  no  tool,  uutil  this 
trouble's  ended  ?" 

"  Will  I  deal  or  dicker  with  such  as  you,  do  you  dare  to 
think?"  burst  in  old  Wallace, mad  with  indignation.  "Out 
of  my  way,  or  I'll  handle  a  tool  to  some  purpose.  Stand 
aside  and  let  me  go  where  I  belong,"  he  ordered,  for  the 
man  stood  at  the  doorway  as  though  to  oppose  his  passage, 
but  the  fire  and  fury  in  the  Scotchman's  eye  appalled  him, 
and  instinctively  he  drew  aside.  Then  with  something  like 
the  snort  of  a  Highland  stag,  in  sheer  contempt  the  foreman 
strode  by  and  into  the  gloomy,  uulighted  shops,  just  as 
Jim,  with  alarm  and  misery  in  his  face,  came  panting  to 
the  spot. 

"  For  goodness  sake,  don't  let  them  touch  the  old  man,  fel- 
lows! Think  how  he's  worked  for  the  road  for  years  before 
we  were  horn.  It's  like  home  to  him.  You'd  feel  as  he 
does  if  you'd  worked  for  it  so  long.  Stoltz  has  been  mak- 
ing a  speech  inciting  them  to  mob  him.  They're  coming 
noV.  Speak  to  them,  Mr.  Steiuman,"  he  implored  the 
.vtran.ner.  "  Speak  to  them,  and  stand  them  off." 

"It's  his  owu  folly,"  said  Steinmau,  waving  Jim  aside, 
and  starting  to  get  out  of  the  road.  "I've  pleaded  with  him 
— warned  him  to  110  purpose.  He  insulted  me — threatened 


to  split  my  skull.  Ask  these  men  here,"  he  continued,  and 
the  nodding  heads  and  murmured  words  of  the  by -slanders- 
gave  i]iiiek  assent.  "I  promised  him  protection  if  he'd 
simply  agree  to  go  home  and  stay  there,  and  keep  that  fool 
nl  ;i  brother  of  yours  from  joining  his  regiment." 

"  He  couldn't  promise  that,"  protested  Jim,  all  breathless 
with  anxiety  and  grief.  Already  a  crowd  of  rioters  were 
surging  through  the  gate  a  hundred  yards  away,  and 
coming  threateningly  towards  them.  "The  moment  Fred 
could  get  his  head  dressed  he  left.  He's  gone  two  hours 
ago." 

"Gone!"  cried  Steiuman  ;  "to  join  men  who'd  shoot  us 
down  like  dogs!  Then  let  the  old  man  swallow  his  pill," 
and  turning  to  the  coming  throng  the  furious  leader  shouted, 
"  Conic  on  !" 

To  Jim  Wallace's  side  came  running  now,  trembling, 
weeping  with  excitement  and  fear,  a  little  boy  of  nine. 
With  one  grab  the  burly  freight  conductor  seized  and  fairly 
slung  him  through  the  doorway  into  the  dark  interior, 
sprang  after  him,  turned  and  barred  the  heavy  oaken  door, 
tln'ii  seizing  again  the  little  fellow's  hand,  rushed  him 
through  a  long  lane  of  half- completed  cars,  through  dim 
and  gloomy  aisles,  and  a  maze  of  work-benches,  until  they 
reached  the  north  end  of  the  shops,  a  long  block  away. 

"  Now,  Billy  boy,"  he  cried,  straining  his  little  brother 
one  instant  in  his  arms,  "be  a  man  for  daddy's  sake.  Run 
like  the  wind  for  the  avenue.  Fred's  regiment  can't  be  six 
blorks  away.  Tell  the  Colouel  they're  killing  father  at  the 
shops.  Away  with  yon.  laddie  !" 

And  like  an  arrow  from  the  bow  the  little  fellow  sped, 
even  as  the  sound  of  battering  beams  thundered  through 
the  resounding  arches  of  the  dark  deserted  shops,  and  Jim 
went  groping  back  to  find  his  gray-haired  father. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


816 


OAKLEIGH. 


BY      ELLEN     DOUGLAS      D  E  L  A  N  D. 


CHAPTEU    VIII. 

MISS  BETSEY  TRINKETT  had  risen  Ijetimes  this  Fri- 
day morning.     She  had  planned  to  do  some  work  in 
her  garden,  and,  besides,  Miss  Betsey  was  an  early  riser. 

Ebenezer,  the  "  hired  man,"  when  lie  came  back  from 
driving  the  cows  to  pasture,  found  her  hard  at  work,  in  her 
huge  snn-bonnet  and  garden  gloves,  pruning  the  box  that 
formed  the  border  of  the  old-fashioned  garden. 

Here  bloomed  together  in  delicious  profusion  roses — 
white,  red,  and  pink  —  sweet-william,  dahlias,  peonies, 
mignonette,  and  heart's-ease,  while  the  labyrinth  which 
wound  in  and  out  among  them  was  the  pride  of  Miss  Bet- 
sey's heart. 

After  a  time  she  straightened  herself  and  stood  gazing 
at  the  view,  her  quaint  little  figure,  in  its  old-time  gay- 
colored  gown,  looking  not  unlike  the  flowers  among  which 
it  stood. 

"  Well,  I  want  to  know  !" 
she  said,  aloud,  her  hand 
raised  to  shield  her  eyes. 
"Any  one  who  says  his 
view  is  better  than  mine 
must  be  just  about  daft. 
Landsakes!  I'd  just  about 
die  if  I  didn't  get  that 
sweep  of  the  Merrimac 
and  those  mountings  be- 
yond!" And  then,  satisfied, 
she  returned  to  her  weed- 
ing. 

Miss  Betsey's  house — 
in  which  she  had  been 
born,  and  her  father  also — 
stood  on  the  side  of  a  hill. 
Behind  was  a  steep  pas- 
ture, full  of  rocks  and 
stubby  bushes.  In  front, 
on  the  other  side  of  tin- 
road,  the  ground  sloped 
abruptly  to  the  village. 
Even,  the  old  white  meet- 
ing-house, built  on  a  hill 
though  it  was,  stood  lo«  er 
than  the  Trinkett  farm. 
Beyond  the  village  flowed 
the  beautiful  Merrimac. 
A  broad  stretch  of  mea- 
dow-land and  cultivated 
fields  rested  the  eye  with 
their  peaceful  greens,  and 
far  away  was  the  dim  out- 
line of  the  hills. 

"Silas  don't  get  a  touch 
of  the  river,"  continued 
Miss  Betsey;  "and  as  for 
the  ruedders,  they're  no- 
where to  be  seen.  He 
thinks  because  lie  can  see 
the  Common  and  the  Sol- 
diers' Monument  his  view's 
better  than  mine  !  Heex- 
pects  me  to  give  up  the 
Merrimac  for  the  Soldiers' 
Monument !  Sakes  alive!" 

She  worked  steadily  for 
some  time,  until  the  click 
of  the  gate  attracted  her 
attention. 

'•I  want  to  know!" she 
exclaimed,  laying  down 
her  tools  and  drawing  off 
her  old  gloves;  "if  here 
ain't  Nephew  John  and 


Jackie  and  that  naughty  Cynthy.  Well,  well!  And  this 
must  be  the  bride."  And  she  hurried  down  the  path  I.. 
meet  them. 

Cynthia  came  shyly  forward  after  the  introduction  of 
her  step-mother  and  the  greetings  were  over.  All  the  way 
in  the  train  she  had  been  meditating  what  she  sljuiihl  say. 
With  Jack's  help  she  had  composed  a  little  speech.  His 
help  had  consisted  in  acting  as  audience,  for  Cynthia  was 
seldom  at  a  loss  for  words.  But  when  the  time  came  the 
speech  deserted  her,  and  all  she  could  think  of  doing  was 
to  put  her  arms  around  Aunt  Betsey's  neck,  and,  looking 
into  the  depths  of  the  big  sun-bonnet,  say,  softly: 
"Aunt  Betsey, I'm  so  sorry!  Will  yon  forgive  me  ?" 
"Forgive  you,  child  !" exclaimed  the  old  lady,  her  resent- 
ment melting  at  sight  of  her  favorite  niece.  "I  want  to 
know!  Did  you  suppose  I'd  remembered  to  be  angry  all 
this  time  ?  La,  Cynthy,  when  you're  as  old  as  I  am  you'll 


•I    WANT   TO    KNOW!"    SHE    EXCLAIMED,  DRAWING   OFF   HEK   OLD    GLOVES. 
817 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


have  learned  to  take  a  little  joke.  And  don't  yon  suppose 
I'm  real  pleased  to  have  you  look  so  much  like  me  ?  If 
Mrs.  Parker  couldn't  1611  us  apart  there  must  be  some  re- 
gemblance." 

•' Nor  Jack,  either,"  put  in  Cynthia,  eagerly,  with  a  light- 
ened heart. 

'•I  think  yon  are  too  good  to  her,  Annt  Betsey."  said  Mr. 
Franklin,  as  they  walked  towards  the  house.  "  I  brought 
her  up  here  to-day  for  the  sole  purpose  of  apologizing." 

"  Do  tell!  And  I  nearly  disrcniembered  it  entirely  !  But 
I'm  reul  glad  to  see  you  and  my  new  niece.  Come  right 
into  the  best  parlor." 

She  opened  the  door,  and  with  reverent  step  ushered 
them  into  the  carefully  kept ''best  parlor."  An  immacu- 
late carpet,  ever  shielded  from  the  light  of  day,  covered  the 
floor,  and  a  horse-hair  sofa  and  a  few  chairs  of  the  same 
inhospitable  material  stood  at  regular  intervals  from  one 
another. 

A  pair  of  tall  vases  and  some  sea-shells  decked  the  man- 
tel-piece. During  their  childhood  it  had  beeu  a  rare  treat 
to  Jack  and  Cynthia  to  hold  these  shells  to  their  ears  and 
listen  to  the  "roar  of  the  ocean"  within.  On  a  table  be- 
tween the  windows  were  some  wax  flowers  under  a  glass, 
and  on  the  marble-topped  centre  table  were  a  few  books 
placed  together  in  neat  little  piles. 

Mrs.  Franklin  was  given  the  place  of  honor,  the  large 
arm-chair.  The  chair  being  a  high  one,  and  she  being  a 
rather  small  woman,  her  feet  barely  touched  the  floor,  and 
she  sat  in  constant  terror  lest  she  should  slide  ignomiui- 
ously  to  the  ground. 

It  was  so  dark  when  they  entered  the  room  that  Mr. 
Franklin  stumbled  over  a  worsted-work  footstool  which 
stood  in  a  prominent  place,  but  Miss  Trinkett  opened  the 
blinds  a  crack,  and  two  bars  of  blazing  July  sunshine  fell 
across  the  carpet.  Then  she  sat  down  to  entertain  her 
guests,  but  her  mind  wandered.  The  Franklins  all  talked, 
but  Miss  Betsey  was  unusually  silent.  '•  I  want  to  know!" 
and  "Do  tell!"  came  at  random.  Finally  she  said,  with  a 
hasty  glance  at  the  sunlight: 

"I  wonder  now  if  you'd  mind  coming  into  my  sitting- 
room  ?  I'd  be  real  pleased  to  have  you,  and  maybe  we'd 
find  it  cooler." 

They  all  jumped  to  their  feet  with  alacrity.  Miss  Betsey 
closed  her  blinds  again  with  a  sigli  of  relief,  and  in  the 
freer  atmosphere  of  the  sitting-room,  secure  in  the  know- 
ledge that  her  best-parlor  carpet  was  uo  longer  fading,  she 
found  her  tongue. 

"I  was  coming  to  see  yon,  niece,  just  as  soon  as  I  could 
see  my  way  to  it.  Marthy,  my  hired  girl,  has  been  off  for 
a  spell,  and  that's  kept  me  busy.  I'd  have  written,  but  I'm 
a  poor  hand  at  writing.  Silas  he  says  he  wonders  the  let- 
ters I  write  ever  get  there,  but  then  he's  one  of  the  doubt- 
ing kind,  Silas  is.  I've  great  faith  in  government.  I  think 
as  long  as  they  undertake  to  carry  letters  about  at  all, 
they've  got  sense  enough  to  carry  'em  safe,  even  if  I  do 
disremember  part  of  the  direction  sometimes.  And  it's 
wonderful,  as  I've  said  many  a  time  before,  what  you  can 
send  through  the  mails  nowadays.  But  now  tell  me  about 
those  poor  little  orphans  in  the  poultry-yard." 

The  success  of  the  last  hatch  was  described  to  her;  in 
fact,  all  the  uews  of  Brentou  was  asked  for  and  received, 
and  in  turn  bits  of  Wayborough  gossip  were  'told  to  the 
attentive  Mrs.  Franklin,  while  Silas's  latest  sayings  were 
repeated  and  commented  upon. 

When  Jack  and  Cynthia  had  gone  out-doors,  Miss  Betsey 
drew  her  chair  a  little  closer  to  that  of  Mrs.  Franklin. 

"My  dear — Hester,  I  think  your  name  is,  and  Hester  it 
will  be  my  pleasure  to  call  yon — my  dear  Hester,  I  want 
to  tell  yon  first  and  foremost  that  I'm  real  pleased  yon 
should  come  and  be  a  mother  to  those  children  of  Nephew 
John's.  They  needed  you ;  they  needed  you  badly.  And 
now  I'm  going  to  treat  you  as  one  of  the  family,  and  talk 
over  a  little  matter  with  you  and  John.  You've  probably 
heard  of  Silas  Green.  He's  been  courting  me  these  forty 
years,  and  now  he's  got  it  into  his  head  that  he  can't  be 
climbing  this  hill  any  more  of  a  Sunday  night.  He  wants 
me  to  fix  the  day  !  I  declare,  it  kind  of  takes  the  stiffening 
right  out  of  me  to  think  of  fixing  the  day  after  all  these 


years,  and  I  still  hold  out,  as  I  can't  give  up  my  view  of  tho 
river." 

••  What  are  yon  going  to  do  about  it,  Aunt  Betsey  ?" 

•'  That's  just  it,  John.  Well.  I'm  going  to  hold  out  a  lit- 
tle longer,  and  I  think — in  fact,  I'm  pretty  sure  —  that  Silas 
is  weakening.  You  see,  it's  kind  of  lonesome  for  him  down 
there,  now  his  sister's  dead  that  kept  house  for  him,  and  it 
is  depressing  to  have  nothing  much  to  look  at  but  the 
Common  and  the  Soldiers'  Monument.  Yes,  I  think  he's 
weakening,  and  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  you  were  to  lind  him 
here  next  time  you  come.  But  I'll  let  you  know  in  time  to 
come  to  the  wedding,  you  may  be  sure  of  that.  But  there's 
something  else  I  want  to  speak  about." 

Here  Miss  Betsey  paused.  She  folded  her  hands  anew 
in  her  lap,  and,  rocking  briskly,  waited  for  some  one  to 
speak.  The  clock  on  the  chimney-shelf  ticked  comforta- 
bly, and  Miss  Trinkett's  canary  chirped  and  hopped  about 
in  its  cage  at  the  window.  Mrs.  Franklin  looked  at  her 
husband. 

"  And  what  is  that,  Aunt  Betsey  ?"  said  he.  "  Somehow 
you  have  so  taken  uiy  breath  away  by  hinting  that  yon  are 
going  to  make  Mr.  Silas  Green  happy,  after  all  these  years, 
that  I  can't  take  in  anything  else." 

"  Ah,  now,  my  dear  boy,  don't  jump  too  quickly  at  a  con- 
clusion. Things  may  not  be  any  nearer  a  settling  now 
than  they  were  forty  years  ago.  It's  all  a  question  of  view, 
and  men  are  terribly  set  in  their  ways.  However,  to  con- 
tinue :  I  want  to  make  each  of  the  children  a  present.  I 
feel  that  I'm  getting  on  in  life — though  I'm  not  so  very  old 
either,  but  still  no  cue  knows  what  may  happen — and  I'd 
rather  do  things  up  before  I  die  than  have  it  all  a-going  on 
after  I'm  laid  away.  I  never  did  think  much  of  wills,  any- 
how. So  I'm  going  to  send 'em  each  a  present  from  time  to 
time  as  I  feel  inclined." 

"  Nonsense,  Aunt  Betsey  !"  said  Mr.  Franklin.  "  You  are 
not  going  to  die  for  many  a  year  yet,  and  you  give  the  chil- 
dren enough.  Keep  your  money." 

"Now  yon  needn't  say  a  word,  John.  My  mind's  made 
up,  and  it  takes  a  deal  to  make  me  change  it — it's  in  the 
Triukett  blood.  And  then  I  like  to  get  the  letters  the 
children  write  to  thank  me.  I  must  say  I'm  powerful  fond 
of  their  letters,  'specially  Cynthy's.  She  does  write  a  beau- 
tiful letter.  I'll  send  'em  each  in  turn,  beginning  with  Edith 
and  ending  up  with  Willy.  Of  course  they  can  do  what 
they  like  with  the  money,  but  it  would  be  uiy  advice  to  put 
it  in  the  savings-bank.  It's  wonderful  how  money  does  roll 
up  in  an  institution  of  that  kind.'1 

Miss  Betsey  could  not  be  turned  from  her  purpose,  so  her 
nephew  was  forced  to  content  himself  with  begging  her,  if 
she  sent  money  through  the  mails,  to  address  it  carefully. 

"One  would  think,  nephew,  from  the  way  you  talk  that 
I  didn't  know  how  to  write, "said  the  old  lady,  with  some 
asperity. 

Jack  and  Cynthia  in  the  mean  time  were  exploring  the 
farm.  It  was  a  never-failing  source  of  pleasure  to  them, 
accustomed  to  farm  life  though  they  were. 

"  This  is  a  really  true  farm,"  said  Cynthia  ;  "  not  a  make- 
believe,  like  ours,  with  a  hired  farmer  to  do  it  all.  And 
Aunt  Betsey's  garden  is  a  thousand  times  nicer  than  ours, 
and  her  hens  are  all  so  big  and  strong-looking." 

"That's  only  because  you've  beeu  looking  so  much  at  the 
'  little  orphans.'  By-the-way,  I  wonder  how  they're  getting 
on.  I  do  wish  I  hadn't  had  to  leave  home  to-day.  I  won- 
der if  Neal  will  attend  to  things?  Queer  kind  of  a  duf- 
fer, isn't  he,  Cyuth?" 

"  Yes  ;  but  I  like  him.  He's  awfully  lazy  and  all  that,  but 
I  think  I'd  trust  him." 

"Oh,  I'd  trust  him  far  enough,  except  where  hard  work's 
concerned.  In  that  line  I  think  I'd  rather  trust  myself. 
But  I  wish  it  was  time  to  go  home." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Cynthia,  thoughtfully.  "  I  have  a  feeling 
that  something  is  going  on  there  and  we  are  missing  it. 
Aunt  Betsey's  isn't  as  much  fun  as  usual,  though  she  was 
awfully  good  to  forgive  me  so  easily.  And  you  have  been 
frightening  me  about  it  all  the  way.  Jack." 

At  last  the  day  wore  on,  and  amid  cordial  good-byes  from 
Miss  Betsey,  her  relatives  took  leave. 

"I'll  send  you   something  for  those  little   orphans  at 


818 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Christmas- time,  Jackie/' she  called   after  them,  "though 
this  being  only  July,  I  hope  to  see  you  before  then." 

When  tbe  party  reached  home  they  found  Bob  shaven 
and  shorn,  Neal  in  his  most  careless  and  teasing  frame  of 
mind,  Edith  depressed  and  silent,  and  the  children  in  dis- 
grace. 

"Iknew  something  was  happening  while  we  were  away." 
whispered  Cynthia  to  Jack. 

"If  only  we  hadn't  missed  it !"  returned  he.  "  Smashing 
the  buggy  and  shaving  Bob,  all  in  one  day!  It's  a  regular 
shame  that  we  weren't  on  hand.'' 

"It  seems  to  me  that  yon  were  neglecting  things  some- 
what to-day,  Edith,"  said  her  father,  when  In-  heard  the 
story. 

There!  it  had  come.  Of  course  she  was  to  he  censured, 
as  she  had  expected. 

"  I  didn't  know  I  was  to  be  tied  hand  and  foot  and  look 
after  the  children  every  minute  of  the  day, "she  answered, 
crossly  ;  "  and  it  was  not  my  fault  that  we  weut  to  the  woods 
and  broke  tbe  buggy." 

"I  don't  care  iu  the  least  about  the  buggy,  but  about 
Neal's  dog." 

This  was  too  much.  Edith  felt  badly  herself  about  the 
dog,  but  surely  she  was  not  responsible.  She  bad  not  been 
tbe  means  of  bringing  him  to  Oakleigb,  she  said  to  herself. 
She  was  about  to  reply,  when  Mrs.  Franklin  interposed  and 
diverted  her  husband's  mind  from  the  subject.  This  still 
further  annoyed  Edith. 

Why  should  Mrs.  Franklin  feel  called  upon  to  interfere 
between  her  and  her  father  ?  And  she  encouraged  herself 
to  dislike  more  than  ever  the"  intruders  "at  Oakleigh. 

The  summer  went  by.  More  chickens  were  hatched,  un- 
til they  numbered  four  hundred,  and  then  "Franklin  & 
Gordon  "  concluded  that  they  would  not  fill  the  machine 
again  this  season.  The  stock  must  be  carefully  tended 
during  the  winter,  and  Jack  would  have  his  hands  full, 
though  one  of  the  men  would  help  him  if  necessary. 

Jack  was  to  go  to  Boston  to  school  this  winter.  Neal 
was  going  back  to  boarding-school ;  it  was  his  last  year, 
and  next  autumn  he  hoped  to  begin  college  life. 

One  fine  day  towards  the  end  of  the  summer  Cynthia  and 
Neal  walked  out  over  the  pasture  to  the  "  far  meadow," 
and  sat  down  iu  the  shade  of  a  huge  hay-stack.  The  air 
was  full  of  the  hum  of  fall  insects, and  grasshoppers  alighted 
here,  there,  and  every  where  about  them.  Neal  tried  in  vain 
to  catch  one  with  his  hat.  Then  he  tossed  it  to  one  side, 
and  clasping  his  hands  behind  his  head,  leaned  back  against 
the  hay  with  a  heavy  sigh. 

"What  is  the  matter  ?"  asked  Cynthia.  "I  should  think 
you  had  the  weight  of  the  world  on  your  shoulders." 

"And  so  I  have.  I've  a  good  mind  to  trot  out  tbe 
whole  story  to  you,  Cynth.  I  wonder  if  it  would  do  any 
good  ?" 

"  Of  course  it  would,"  replied  Cynthia,  promptly.  "  There 
is  nothing  like  talking  a  thing  over,  and,  besides,  I've 
wanted  dreadfully  to  know  what  has  been  the  matter  with 
you." 

"How  did  you  know  anything  was?" 

"  I  have  seen  you  growing  glummer  and  glummer.  You 
haven't  been  nearly  as  jolly  lately.  And  when  you  got  that 
letter  this  morning  you  looked  as  if  you  would  like  to  punch 
somebody." 

"  You  do  take  in  a  lot !  I  never  supposed  anybody  would 
notice.  I  wonder  if  Hessie  did  ?" 

"  I  saw  her  looking  at  you." 

"I  wish  she'd  look  to  some  purpose,  aud  hand  out  what 
I  want.  She's  so  taken  up  with  you  Franklins  nowa- 
days." 

••  What  do  you  want  ?" 

"  Money,  of  course." 

"  Why,  Neal,  mamma  gave  you  a  lot  the  other  day  !' 

"  Oh, "that  was  a  mere  drop  in  the  bucket.  Yes,  I  really 
think  I'll  have  to  tell  you  what  atix  I'm  in.  Perhaps  you'll 
see  some  way  out  of  it." 

"Do,"   said    Cynthia,   sympathetically;    "I   am    sure 
will." 

••  Well,  it's  just  this:    I  owe  a  lot  of  money  to  a  felh 
that  goes  to  St.  Asaph's,  aud  I  had  a  letter  from  him  this 


morning  asking  me  to  fork  out  at  once,  or  he  would  write 
to  my  guardians  or  speak  to  the  trustees  :it  I  he  school.  It's 
a  nasty  thing  to  do,  anyhow.  1  don'i  think  the  fellow  is 
a  gentleman." 

"Then  why  did  you  ever  have  anything  to  do  with  him  .'" 
"That's  just  like  a  girl !      I'm  son  \   Itnldyou." 
"Oh, don't  say  that!     Indeed.it  only  just  struck  me  that 
people  who  are  not  gentlemen  are  so  horrid.     1'lease  ni>  on. 
Neal,  and  tell  me  the  rest." 

"There's  nothing  to  tell  except  that  I  owe  him  a  hun- 
dred dollars." 

"One  hundred  dollars!  Neal !"  To  Cynthia  this  seemed 
a  fortune.  "Why,  how  did  yon  ever  spend  it  all?" 

"Spend  it!     Easily  enough.     Suppers  once  in  a   while, 
ginger-pop,  candy,  cigarettes  " 
"I  didn't  know  you  smoked." 

"Neither  I  do.  I  just  do  it  occasionally  to  show  I'm  up 
to  it.  But  it's  no  go  if  you're  training,  and  I'm  training 
most  of  the  time.  But  you  have  to  keep  cigarettes  on  hand 
for  the  fellows." 

"But,  Neal,  you  told  me  once  how  large  your  allowance 
is,  and  I  don't  see  how  you  ever  in  the  world  managed  to 
spend  so  much  more." 

"Easily  enough,  as  I  said  before.  You  see,  I  have  the 
name  of  being  a  rich  fellow,  and  I  have  to  live  up  to  it, 
which  makes  it  hard.  I  have  to  live  up  to  it,  when,  after 
all,  I'm  practically  dependent  on  Hessie.  I  haven't  a  cent 
of  my  own  until  I'm  twenty-live.  This  fellow  Bronsou 
offered  to  lend  me  a  liver  one  day.  ami  I  not  into  the  habit 
of  asking  him.  I  didn't  mean  to  let  it  run  on  so  long. 
He's  a  queer  lot — awfully  smooth  on  the  outside,  and  inside, 
hard  as  nails.  We  were  good  friends  at  first ;  then  he  did 
something  I  didn't  like,  and  I  cut  him  :  but  he  didn't  seem 
to  mind  it,  and  afterwards  when  he  ottered  me  the  fiver  I 
thought  I  might  as  well  take  it.  What  a  mean  will  that 
was  anyhow  of  grandmother's!" 

Neal  moodily  tugged  at  a  wisp  of  straw  which  he  held 
in  his  teeth,  and  looked  across  the  meadow.  A  herd  of 
cows  came  down  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river  for  a 
drink,  aud  Bob  barked  at  them  loudly,  running  as  near  to 
them  as  he  dared. 

For  a  time  Cynthia  did  not  speak.     Then  she  said. 
"Aren't  you  going  to  a-.k  mamma  .'" 

"I  suppose  I'll  have  to.  I  wouldn't  mind  a  bit  if  she 
were  not  married,  but  I  suppose  your  father  will  have  to 
know  about  it." 

"I  suppose,"  said  Cynthia, sagely,  "  mamma  would  have 
just  given  it  to  you  without  saying  anything,  while  papa 
will  ask  questions." 

"That's  just  about  the  size  of  it.  And  he  will  not  only 
ask  the  questions,  but  he  won't  like  the  answers.  I  think 
I  won't  tackle  them  for  a  hundred  all  at  once.  I'll  put  it 
at  fifty,  and  try  to  get  Bronsou  to  wait  for  the  rest.  I 
suppose  I'll  get  some  tips  at  Christmas-time." 

"I  think  it  would  be  ever  so  much  better, Neal,  to  tell 
the  whole  truth.  It  will  save  ever  so  much  trouble  iu  the 
end." 

"But  it  won't  save  trouble  now,  aixl  I  hate  a  fuss.  The 
fifty  business  will  be  bad  enough.  I  like  to  take  things 
quietly." 

"That's  just  it,  Neal.  Do  take  my  advice,  and  tell 
mamma  the  whole  thiug." 

••That's  the  worst  of  telling  a  girl  anything.  They  al- 
ways want  to  give  advice.  I  wonder  why  it  is  that  a  wo- 
man from  her  earliest  years  loves  to  advi.-e  .'' 

"Much  you  know  about  it."  said  Cynthia;  "and  you 
needn't  have  told  me  about  your  si-rape  if  you  didn't  want 
me  to  say  anything." 

"Well,  I've  told  you  now,  and  you  must  gi\e  me  your 
word  of  honor  that  you  will  never  yi\e  me  away.  Now 
promise,  Cynthia." 

"Of  course  I'll  promise,  Neal.  I  wouldn't  tell  it  for 
the  world  if  you  don't  want  me  to.  Hut.  oh.  I  »  ish  you 
would  tell  the  whole  thing  yourself!" 

But    Neal  was   obdurate  :   and  when    he    found    how 
brother-in-law  received  his  demand   for  fifty   doll.ii>    be 
thought  he  had  acted  wisely. 

"Of  course  it  is  not  really  my  affair."  said  Mr.  1'rankliu, 


619 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"except  that  I  am  your  sister's  hnsbaucl,  and  have  a  right 
to  advise  her.  The  mouey  is  hers,  to  do  with  it  what  she 
likes,  aud  she  cau  speud  it  all  on  you  if  she  wishes.  But  I 
think  fifty  dollars  is  a  good  deal  for  a  school-boy,  with  the 
allowance  that  you  have,  to  owe.  If  you  were  my  boy  I 
should  look  into  the  matter  pretty  carefully,  you  may  be 
sure.  However,  I  am  neither  your  father  uor  your  guardi- 
an. But  it  is  a  bad  precedent.  If  you  spend  money  in  this 
way  at  school,  what  will  yon  do  in  college  f" 

Hester  expostulated  with  her  brother,  but  wrote  a  check 
and  gave  it  to  him.  Neal  was  almost  sorry  then  that  he 
had  not  placed  the  sum  at  one  hundred. 

He  sent  the  check  to  Branson,  assuring  him  that  ho 
would  pay  him  the  balance  before  long.  This  done,  Neal 
became  as  gay  and  debonair  as  ever.  Cynthia,  knowing 
the  facts,  wondered  that  he  could  so  completely  forget  the 
burden  of  debt  that  was  still  resting  upon  him.  She 
thought  that  he  must  have  discovered  some  other  way  of 
settling  the  matter. 

[TO   BE   CONTINUED.] 


THE  UNITED  STATES    NAVY   AT    THE 
BALTIC   CANAL. 

BY    A    JUNIOR    OFFICER. 

"  /~1  EXERAL  Sigual  6421  from  flag-ship!"  cried  the  sig- 
VjT  nal  boy  to  signal  officer  of  the  U.  S.  S.  San  Francisco, 
as  our  fleet  approached  the  entrance  to  Kiel  Fiord. 

"Keport  to  the  Captain  that  we  are  ordered  by  the  llag- 
ship  to  take  position  at  head  of  column,"  replied  the  sig- 
nal officer,  referring  to  signal-book. 

Simultaneously  the  U.  S.  flag-ship  -Yew  Toi-k  stopped  her 
engines,  allowing  the  U.  S.  S.  San  Francisco  aud  U.  S.  S.  Co- 
lumbia to  steam  ahead,  leading  the  column  into  the  harbor 
of  Kiel,  Germany,  in  order  that  they  might  be  in  proper 
sequence  for  picking  up  the  buoys  assigned  them  during 
the  festivities  attending  the  opening  of  the  large-ami  im- 
portant canal  connecting  the  Baltic  with  the  North  Sea. 
Ahead,  beyond  the  light  guarding  the  entrance  to  Kiel 
Fiord,  which  is  nothing  more  'than  a  long  laud -locked 
harbor  five  miles  long  by  one  and  a  half  broad,  we  could 
see  ships  and  boats  by  the  score. 


We  are  entering  the  harbor.  Ding!  aud  the  engines  are 
stopped,  lines  are  thrown  to  the  small  lauuch  coming 
alongside,  and  a  German  officer  is  helped  aboard,  who  vol- 
unteers to  show  us  to  our  assigned  buoyage.  The  first  of 
the  unbroken  series  of  hospitalities  shown  us  by  the  Ger- 
mans during  our  entire  stay  has  been  performed.  Chan- 
ging course  to  port,  ahead  we  could  see  the  spires  and  build- 
iugs  of  Kiel  several  miles  distant ;  abeam,  the  little  town  of 
Friedrichsort  close  aboard  ;  on  our  bow,  distant  about  four 
miles,  lay  the  little  town  of  Holteuau,  really  little  else  than 
a  suburb  of  Kiel,  and  here  was  pointed  out  by  the  pilot  the' 
canal,  the  opening  of  which  we  had  come  to  celebrate.  On 
our  port  hand  the  shore  extended  evenly  from  Kiel  to  our 
port  beam,  clothed  in  verdure,  sprinkled  by  occasional  vil- 
las, and  marked  particularly  by  a  small  hill  just  opposite 
the  entrance  to  the  canal,  which  had  been  surmounted  liy 
an  immense  stand  for  the  reception  of  spectators  to  the 
yacht  races  following  the  opening  week.  In  this  harbor 
lay  the  German  fleet,  consisting  of  twenty-eight  VCSM-IS, 
aside  from  torpedo-boats,  and  the  Austrian  fleet  of  four, 
many  yachts,  tugs,  aud  steamers  chartered  for  the  functions. 
While  gazing  at  the  array  before  us  we  are  aroused  by  the. 
21-guii  salute  of  the  flag-ship,  fired  in  honor  of  the  port. 
We  now  approach  the  Gerrnau  training-ships.  The  men 
a rejn  the  rigging.  Three  cheers  ring  out  from  the  mass 
in  the  rigging.  "Stand  by  to  cheer  ship!"  yells  the  First 
Lieutenant.  "Lay  aloft!"  and  our  rigging  is  a  mass  of 
human  beings.  "Stand  by  to  cheer — hip,  hip!"  aud  the 
three  long,  hearty  cheers  of  the  Germans  are  returned. 
Again  and  again  is  this  repeated  as  we  slowly  steam  up 
by  the  line  of  ships  riding  to  their  moorings,  the  cheers 
ringing  out  even  above  the  gnus  of  the  AVtr  York,  which,  it 
must  be  remembered,  are  all  of  this  time  eugaged  in  a  nm- 
stant  fusillade  iu  extending  aud  returning  salutes  to  the 
Admirals  of  the  various  fleets. 

Arriving  at  our  buoy,  we  find  that  the  boat  which  wo 
had  manned,  ready  for  lowering,  is  unnecessary,  as  a 
German  boat  was  waiting  to  carry  out  our  hawser  to  the 
buoy.  We  are  moored.  Our  position  is  not  the  best,  but, 
being  near  the  town,  it  counterbalances  the  disadvantage 
of  being  some  distance  from  the  canal  eutrauce. 

The  two  days  now  elapsing  before  the  opening  of  the 
festivities,  the  grand  ball  at  Hamburg,  are  days  of  prepa- 


TUE    AMERICAN  SQTJADRON   AT   THE   KIEL   NAVAL   REVIEW. 

820 


THE    WAR-SHIPS    PASSING    THROUGH    THE    CANAL. 


ratiou.  The  last  touches  are  put  on  onr  white  lustrous 
sides;  the  smallest  particles  of  dirt  or  stain  are  carefully 
removed;  morning  and  evening'  the  various  ships'  boats 
are  seen  practising  for  the  coining'  races.  Entertainments 
have  already  begun.  The  officers  of  each  Germau  ship 
diligently  apply  themselves  to  the  entertainment  of  the 
officers  of  the  ship  or  ships  assigned  them,  while  the  crews 
of  our  vessels  accept  similar  hospitalities  from  the  crews 
of  theirs.  These  days  also  witness  the  arrival  of  the  other 
numerous  fleets  —  Denmark  with  two  cruisers  and  four 
torpedo-boats;  England  with  six  battle-ships,  two  large 
cruisers,  and  two  torpedo-boats,  and  two  yachts;  France 
with  the  Hoi'he,  Dupuij  lie  Lome,  and  Snrconf ;  the  Italians 
with  nine  vessels  of  all  classes;  Holland  with  two 
cruisers;  Norway  with  two;  Portugal  with  one;  Roumania 
with  two;  Russia  with  three;  Sweden 
three  ;  Spain  three  ;  and  others,  mak- 
ing a  total  iu  harbor  on  the  morning 
of  June  19th  of  eighty-six  war-vessels, 
aside  from  torpedo-boats.  Besides  this, 
the  numerous  yachts,  liners,  and  tugs 

made    the  harbor  fairly  covered  with 

floating  habitations. 

On  this  date  the  Admiral  of  our  fleet, 

accompanied  by  nis  staff,  went  to  Ham- 
burg, where  he  had  previously  ordered 

tht^    MnrliU-hi'H(1,m\r  smallest  vessel,  to 

await  him.     Here,  after  the  ball,  which 

opened  the  festivities,  he  went  aboard 

that  vessel  and  steamed  down  to  Bruns- 

biittel,  the  mouth  of  the  canal,  where  a 

column    of  sixteen    vessels,  headed   by 

H.  M.  steam-yacht  Hohen:ulh'rn,  began 

at  4  A.M.  the  passage  through  the  canal. 

This  canal  connects  the  Elbe  (at  Brnus- 

biittel)  to  the  Baltic  at  Kiel  by  a  rather 

tortuous  passage  of  65  miles  in  length. 

It  is  from  27  to  30  feet  deep,70  feet  broad 

at  the  bottom,  and  120  feet  at  the  top. 

Tin-  total  cost  was  15(5,000,000  marks— 

$39,000,000. 

At  H  A.M.,  June  20th,  the  holiday  as- 
pect suddenly    came    over    the  fleets. 


The  few  flags  and  banners  that  the  smaller  boats 
had  flown  proudly  the  past  few  days  were  put  to 
shame  when  at  one  instant,  on  the  stroke  of  eight  bells 
(A.M.),  every  ship  hoisted  her  rainbow  of  every  flag, 
extending  from  water-line  forward  over  masts  to  water- 
line  aft.  Then  the  celebration  began  at  Kiel.  At  noon 
the  exit  of  the  Emperor's  yacht  with  the  imperial  party 
aboard  was  celebrated  by  the  firing  of  thirty-three  guns  by 
each  ship  in  the  harbor,  with  rails  manned,  and  officers  iu 
full  dress. 

At  8  P.M.  the  grand  ball  was  given  at  Kiel.  Four 
thousand  people  were  present,  representing  all  nations. 
The  Emperor  and  royal  party  were  there,  and  officers  not 
having  already  met  him  were  there  presented. 

The  following  day  the  ships  were  full  dressed  at  8  A.M. 


THE    EMPEROR'S   YACHT   OPENING  THE    CANAL 
821 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


At  1  P.M.  -were  the  inaugural  ceremonies  at  the  month 
of  the  canal.  Uniform  full  dress.  Rails  were  maimed, 
ami  ships  passing  by  the  Emperor  gave  three  cheers.  Dur- 
ing the  afternoon  the  Hohenzolleru  steamed  through  the 
fleet,  anil  was  sainted  and  cheered  as  before. 

This  was  the  uight  of  the  grand  illumination.  The  com- 
manders of  the  visiting  countries  had  their  ships  outlined 
by  electric  lights,  taking  in  funnels,  masts,  rails,  etc.  Those 
of  the  United  States  had  besides  this  their  name  iu  three- 
foot  letters,  and  a  large  shield  showing  stars  and  stripes. 
Iu  the  midst  of  this  display  lights  were  suddenly  cut  oil1, 
and  for  an  hour  the  flag-ship  AV'ir  York  sent  forth  a  display 
of  fireworks  not  equalled  in  any  other  fleet.  The  most 
notable  features  were  fire-likenesses  of  President  Cleveland 
and  Emperor  William  II.  and  the  American  and  German 
conts  of  anus,  all  in  immense  frames,  16  by  20  feet. 

As  the  festivities  approach  an  end, so  do  I  near  the  point 
where  I  shall  leave  you  to  till  in  the  omissions  iu  your 
imaginations. 

On  the  22d  the  ships  did  not  again  hoist  the  rainbow,  but 
instead  floated  a  flag  from  each  mast-head.  A  German 
manoeuvring  fleet  went  out  in  the  early  morning  for  llert 
manoeuvres,  sham -battle,  and  review  by  Empress.  At 
noou  they  returned,  and  the  festival-time  of  Kiel  was  over. 

The  officers  were  still  entertained,  courtesies  extended 
as  before.  Boat-racing  received  an  impetus  as  the  time  ap- 
proached. Visitors  were  received  aboard  ship,  hut  the 
difference  could  be  felt;  the  throng  on  the  water  diminished ; 
the  town,  hitherto  so  gayly  decorated,  became  more  sober. 
Everything  pointed  that  the  festival  was  over,  the  canal 
was  open,  the  entire  celebration  was  a  grand  success. 

America's  fleet  of  snow-white  cruisers,  her  display,  her 
representation,  when  so  far  distant,  have  won  unanimous 
praise  and  applause,  and  may  be  reckoned  by  all  Americans 
as  the  grandest  success  of  all. 


fHg 


CAMERA 


This  Department  is  conducted  in  the  interest  of  Amateur  Photographers,  ami  the  Editor  will 
be  pleased  to  answer  any  question  cm  the  subject  eo  far  as  possible  Correspondents  should 
address  Editor  Camera  Club  Department. 

PAPERS  FOR   BEGINNERS,  No.  11. 
INTENSIFICATION  OR   REDEVELOPMENT. 

A  NEGATIVE  which  lias  been  overexposed  and  devel- 
oped iu  a  normal  .developer,  while  perfect  in  detail, 
will  he  thin  and  without  contrast.  This  is  because  it  is  un- 
derdeveloped, the  chemicals  acting  too  quickly  to  allow  it 
to  gain  density.  A  satisfactory  print  cannot  he  made  from 
such  a  negative,  as  the  film,  being  so  transparent,  allows  the 
light  to  reach  all  parts  of  the  paper  almost  at  once,  and  the 
print  when  toned  is  a  dull  slaty  gray. 

An  overexposed  and  underdeveloped  plate  may  be  re- 
developed, and  this  process  is  usually  called  strengthening 
or  intensifying.  Solutions  come  ready  prepared  for  use, 
but  the  amateur  who  wishes  can  prepare  his  own. 

The  bichloride-of-mereury  formula  is  one  of  the  most 
satisfactory  for  the  young  amateur.  This  is  in  three  solu- 
tions, made  up  and  kept  in  separate  bottles, labelled  respec- 
tively No.  1,  No.  2,  No.  3.  No.  1  is  composed  of  bichloride  of 
mercury,  120  grains;  chloride  of  ammonium,  120  grains; 
distilled  water,  10  ounces.  No.  2  is  composed  of  chloride  of 
ammonium,  1->0  grains  ;  water,  10  ounces.  No.  3  is  sulphite 
of  sodium  crystals,  1  ounce;  water, 9  ounces. 

Wash  the  plate  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  place  it  for 
ten  minutes  in  a  flve-per-cent. solution  of  alum, and  wash  for 
half  an  hour.  Place  the  negative  in  a  glass  tray,  and  flow 
enough  of  the  solution  marked  No.  1  to  cover  it.  Tin-  neg- 
ative will  turn  white,  and  as  soon  as  it  is  white,  or  nearly 
so,  turn  off  the  solution,  and  flow  with  No.  2  for  one  minute. 
li'inse  the  plate  again,  and  cover  with  the  solution  marked 
No.  :i.  and  let  it  remain  till  the  negative  has  changed  to  a 


dark  brown  or  black.  Wash  for  an  hour  and  dry.  No.  3 
can  be  returned  to  the  bottle,  but  the  others  had  better  be 
thrown  away  after  using  once. 

Another  method  is  to  bleach  or  whiten  the  plate  with  a 
solution  of  bichloride  of  mercury,  and  then  treat  the  plate 
with  a  hydrochiuon  developer.  Dissolve  a  quarter-ounce 
of  bichloride  of  mercury  iu  12  ounces  of  water.  Soak  tho 
plate  for  a  few  minutes  in  clear  water,  till  the  film  is  thor- 
oughly wet.  Place  it  face  up  in  a.  glass  tray,  and  turn  the 
mercuric  solution  over  it,  till  the  image  first  disappears  and 
again  becomes  visible.  Take  the  plate  from  the  tray  and 
wash  away  every  trace  of  the  mercury.  Place  it  in  a  de- 
veloping tray,  and  cover  the  plate  with  a  fresh  solution  of 
hydrochinon  developer.  (Any  formula  will  answer.)  In  a 
few  minutes  the  negative  will  come  out  almost  as  strong  as 
if  it  had  been  properly  exposed  and  developed.  Wash  thor- 
oughly and  dry.  If  the  plate  does  not  need  much  intensi- 
fying, leave  it  in  the  mercuric  solution  just  long  enough  lor 
the  surface  to  whiteu. 

Another  formula  for  intensifying  is  one  which  can  be 
used  as  soon  as  the  plates  have  been  developed  and  fixed, 
and  gives  the  required  strength  to  quite  thin  negatives. 
This  is  prepared  in  three  solutions,  and  used  in  the  same 
way  as  the  first  formula  given.  No.  1,  bichloride  of  mer- 
cury, 2  parts ;  water,  100  parts.  No.  2,  iodide  of  potassium, 
3  parts ;  water,  33  parts.  No.  3,  sodic  acetate,  4  parts ;  wa- 
ter, 33  parts. 

Caution  :  Mark  all  bottles  containing  intensifying  solu- 
tions "Poison,"  be  very  careful  in  handling,  and  keep  them 
locked  up  when  not  in  use.  Bichloride  of  mercury  (cor- 
rosive sublimate)  is  .a  violent  poison,  and  a  grain  or  two  of 
it  taken  internally  may  prove  fatal.  An  antidote  is  the 
whites  of  eggs  beaten  up  with  water  and  given  promptly, 
repeatedly,  and  abundantly.  The  albumen  of  the  egg  ren- 
ders the  salts  of  mercury  insoluble,  and  enables  the  stom- 
ach to  throw  ofl'the  poison  instead  of  absorbing  it  into  the 
system. 

MM.E.  C.  HE  GRAMONT,  Paris,  France,  asks  "  If  an  amateur  can  make 
a  non-halation  plate,  and  how,  and  what  is  ttie  best  method  of  sensitiz- 
ing the  salted  paper  described  in  No.  796?"  Plates  already  sensitized  can 
be  covered,  rendered  almost  free  from  halation  by  painting  the  back  or 
glass  side  with  a  mixture  of  collodion  and  rouge.  In  place  of  the  rouge 
uny  dark  red  or  brown  pigment  may  be  used.  The  mixture  dries  quickly, 
and  is  easily  wiped  off  the  plate  before  developing.  Another 'mixture 
may  be  mide  of  y,  oz.  gum-arabic,  1  drachm  of  glycerine,  y,  oz.  burnt 
sienna,:and  5  oz.  water.  Heal  enough  of  the  water  to  dissolve  the  gum- 
arabic,  and  when  cold  mix  all  the  ingredients  together.  Apply  with  a 
brush.  After  exposure  and  before  developing  it  should  be  wiped  off  the 
plate  with  a  cloth  wet  with  benzine.  In  No.  SOS  will  be  found  further  di- 
rections for  preparing  plain  salted  paper.  The  easiest  way  to  sensitize 
the  paper  is  to  cut  it  into  8  by  10  sheets,  lay  a  piece  on  a  pane  of  glass, 
holding  it  from  curling  by  two  or  three  letter-clips;  or,  if  preferred,  a 
smooth  board  can  be  used  and  the  paper  fastened  to  the  board  with  small 
thumb  tacks.  Appl3'  lightly  and  evenly,  first  one  way  and  then  the  other 
at  right  angles.  Be  sure  that  all  the  paper  is  covered.  Dry  iu  a  dark 
room,  pinning  the  paper  to  the  wall  or  some  smooth  surface.  After  two 
or  three  times  trying  one  can  apply  the  solution  evenly.  The  prints  are 
very  beautiful,  and  if  well  washed  do  not  fade. 

ANSWERS  TO  BICVKRAL  CORRESPONDENTS. — We  have  had  many  queries  as 
to  how  one  may  become  a  member  of  the  Camera  Club.  Any  member  of 
the  Hound  Table  may  become  a  member  of  the  club  by  sending  hie  or 
her  name  to  the  Round  Table.  We  hope  all  of  our  readers  who  own 
cameras  will  join  the  club,  as  we  expect  to  give  some  new  and  original 
plans  for  work  during  the  year. 

SIR  KNIOUT  B.  P.  ATKINSON,  Tiltou,  New  Hampshire,  asks,  1.  What  is 
Eikonogen  made  from,  and  what  is  the  chemical  name.  2.  What  is  the 
difference  between  chrome  alum  and  alum  crystals.  3.  When  we  expect 
to  have  another  photographic  contest.  4.  Is  Watkin'8  exposure  meter  a 
reliable  machine.  5.  How  can  films  be  kept  from  curling. 

1.  Eikonogen  is  the  sodium  salt  compounded  from  three  different 
chemicals,  and  comes  in  whitish-gray  crystals.  It  is  the  name  of  a  de- 
veloping agent  patented  by  Dr.  Andreson  about  six  years  ago.  It  is  not 
poisonous,  does  not  stain  the  fingers,  and  gives  a  clear  negative  with 
plenty  of  detail.  2.  The  difference  between  chrome  alum  and  alum  crys- 
tals is  principally  that  chrome  alum  has  twice  the  strength  of  alum  crys- 
tals, being  a  double  salt,  instead  of  the  commercial  aium  usually  sold. 
Both  chrome  alum  and  alum  crystals  are  used  for  the  same  purpose  in 
photography,  for  clearing  and  hardening  the  film  of  the  negative.  3. 
The  date  has  not  yet  been  fixed  for  our  next  photographic  contest,  but 
we  intend  to  have  another  soon.  4.  It  is  out  of  our  province  to  pass  judg- 
ment on  any  kind  of  photographic  apparatus  ft.  Films  may  be  kept 
from  curling  by  soaking  them  after  they  have  been  developed  and  hefore 
they  have  been  dried,  in  a  solution  of  glycerine,  i  oz.,  distilled  waler,  U 
oz  ,  for  five  minutes,  and  then  drying  as  usual. 


822 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


some  hours  in  advance  of  the  letter  you  write  at  the  first 
opportunity  after  reaching  your  friend's  house. 

No  LETTEU  should  ever  be  marred  by  excuses  and  apolo- 
gies. 


TMi  Department  is  conducted  in  the  intere§t  of  Girls  and  Young  Wnmen.  and  the  Editor  will 
)i~  i.l^i^e.i  t<>  ui-wer  any  question  on  the  subject  &o  fur  as  possible.  Correspoodents  should 
nddress  Editor. 

ONE  of  my  girls  inquires  bow  to  ask  for  nil  autograph 
of  a  person  whom  she  admires,  aud  which  she  thinks 
would  add  to  the  interest  of  her  collection.     Such  a  letter 
might  be  written  in  this  way: 

DAISY  MEAD,  BKOOKVILLE,  NEW  YOIIK. 
.\fra.Snrilli  Mill-in   I 'lifnti  i- : 

DEAR  MADAM, — I  nm  making  a  collection  of  autographs, 
and  would  feel  much  honored  if  you  would  kindly  allow 
me  to  add  yours  to  the  number  I  have  already  received.  I 
enclose  a  slip  of  paper  and  a  stamped  and  addressed  en- 
velope, and  thanking  yon  in  advance  for  granting  the  fa- 
vor I  ask,  I  am,  Very  sincerely  yours, 

ELEANOR  ALICE  AMK.S. 

Or  perhaps  yon  may  like  better  this  simpler  form  : 

No.  189  ASIITAIIFLA  STUEKT,  ROME,  ILLINOIS. 

DEAR  Mus.  LADYLOVE. — I  am  a  little  girl  twelve  years 
old,  living  a  great  many  miles  from  you,  but  I  have  read 
your  poems  and  stories,  and  like  them  very  much.  It  will 
make  me  very  happy  to  receive  your  autograph.  Please 
use  the  slip  of  paper  which  I  enclose  in  the  stamped  and 
addressed  envelope,  which  I  add  to  save  you  trouble. 

Admiringly  yours,  EMILY  ANNE  JINKS. 

The  form  of  address,  you  observe,  is  not  arbitrary.  But 
you  must  be  polite.  You  are  soliciting  a  favor.  And  you 
must  certainly  send  the  envelope  addressed  to  yourself, 
and  stamped.  Always  enclose  return  postage  in  a  letter 
which  asks  a  friend  to  do  you  a  kindness,  to  send  you  infor- 
mation, or  in  any  way  to  oblige  you.  One  little  two-cent 
stamp  is  not  very  much  to  either  your  correspondent  or 
yourself,  but  postage-stamps  soon  count  up  when  oue  has  a 
great  many  letters  to  write  and  answer. 

ANOTHER  girlie  says,  "  Please  tell  me  how  soon  I  ought 
to  answer  my  friend's  letter — the  same  day,  or  the  next,  or 
in  a  week,  or  what  ?"  Bless  your  dear  heart,  my  child,  an- 
swer as  soou  as  you  please,  and  if  you  are  writing  to  some- 
body you  love,  who  loves  you,  the  sooner  tbe  better.  A 
lady  who  has  a  large  correspondence  tells  me  that  she  al- 
ways replies  to  her  friends  while  their  letters  are  fresh  in 
her  mind,  before  the  glow  and  tenderness  have  faded.  It  is, 
as  a  rule  much  easier  to  answer  a  letter  when  you  have  re- 
cently read  it  than  when  it  lias  been  put  aside  for  days  and 
weeks.  Still,  much  depends  mi  the  style  of  the  correspond- 
ence, and  on  the  tie  which  binds  you  to  your  friend. 

I  HAVE  lately  been  reading  some  very  remarkable  letters. 
They  are  published  in  a  book  called  Letters  from  the  New 
Hebrides,  and  are  by  Maggie  Whitecross  Paton,  the  wife  of 
the  great  missionary  Dr.  John  G.  Paton.  I  think  these  let- 
ters are  very  nearly  perfect,  so  bright,  so  chatty,  so  full  of 
simple  goodness.  Mrs.  Patou  has  the  gift  of  seeing  things, 
and  then  telling  about  them  so  that  we  see  with  her  eyes. 

I  WISH  I  might  impress  on  you  the  importance  of  an- 
swering questions  which  may  have  been  asked  by  your 
correspondent.  Before  closing  a  letter  which  is  by  way  of 
reply,  why  not  read  over  the  one  which  calls  it  forth,  and 
make  siiri'  that  you  have  not  omitted  anything  concern- 
ing which  you  have  been  asked  to  give  information. 

POSTAL  CARDS  should  be  used  exclusively  for  purposes 
of  business,  the  exception  being  that  wheu  on  a  journey 
it  is  a  good  plan  to  carry  a  postal  card,  addressed  before 
you  leave  home,  pencil  ou  it  the  news  of  your  safe  ar- 
rival, and  mail  it  in  the  station  before  going  to  your  jour- 
ney's end.  This  often  gives  the  home  people  news  of  you 


f 


TRAVELLING    STONES    IN   NEVADA. 

THE  curious  "travelling  stones"  of  Australia  arc  paral- 
leled in  Nevada.  They  are  described  as  being  perfect- 
ly round,  about  as  large  as  a  walnut,  and  of  an  ivory  nature. 
When  distributed  about  on  the  floor,  table,  or  any  smooth 
surface  within  two  or  three  feet  of  each  other,  they  imme- 
diately commence  travelling  toward  each  oilier,  and  meet 
at  a  common  centre,  and  there  lie  huddled  in  a  bunch  like 
eggs  in  a  nest.  A  single  stone  removed  to  a  distance  of 
four  feet,  upon  being  released,  returns  to  the  heap,  but  if 
taken  away  as  much  as  five  feet  remains  motionless.  It  is 
needless  to  say  that  they  are  largely  composed  of  magnetic 


ON   BOARD    THE    ARK. 

BY     ALBERT    LEE. 
CHAPTER    II. 

AS  soon  as  Tommy  recovered  his  self-possession — or  as 
much  of  it  as  he  could  under  these  trying  circum- 
stances— he  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  about  him.  He  could 
not  see  much,  for  they  were  apparently  racing  down  a  dark, 
narrow  corridor,  "  like  a  telegram  in  a  pneumatic  tube,"  he 
thought.  But  his  eyes  gradually  grew  accustomed  to  the 
darkness,  and  he  could  see  that  tliere  were  pictures  ou  the 
walls — battle  pictures,  and  scenes  representing  all  sorts  of 
historical  events.  He  caught  a  glimpse  of  Washington 
crossing  the  Delaware,  and  of  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill ; 
he  saw  the  taking  of  the  Bastille,  and  the  great  London 
fire.  Soon  he  saw  the  Spanish  Armada  and  the  Crusades, 
and,  later,  the  burning  of  Rome,  Julius  C;esar  crossing  the 
Rubicon,  the  siege  of  Carthage,  the  building  of  the  Parthe- 
non, the  destruction  of  Troy,  the  fall  of  Babylon,  and  af- 
terwards many  other  things  that  he  could  not  recognize. 
They  all  seemed  to  whiz  past  him  in  a  sort  of  confused 
blur.  He  screwed  up  courage  enough  finally  to  call  out  to 
the  ex-Pirate : 

"  Wh-wh-wh-at  is  th-this  pl-pla-ce,  and  how  1-long  are 
we  g-goitig  to  go  1-like  th-this  .'" 

"  Th-th-these  are  the  halls  of  Time,"  the  ex-Pirate  shout- 
ed in  reply.  "  We  are  going  hack  through  them  as  far  as 
the  Deluge." 

This  explanation  was  not  very  satisfactory  to  Tommy, 
and  although  up  to  the  present  moment  he  had  not  had  a 
chance  to  think  of  getting  scared,  he  now  began  to  feel 
slightly  alarmed  at  what  had  happened.  lie  was  about  to 
question  the  ex-Pirate  again,  wheu  suddenly  ihcre  was  a 
great  burst  of  light,  and  they  seemed  to  shoot  out  ot'tbe 
tunnel  they  had  been  travelling  through.  Tommy  felt  the 
grasp  of  Father  Time's  hand  loosen,  aud  the  next  thing  he 
knew  he  was  rolling  head  over  heels  ou  top  of  a  liig  hay- 
stack in  the  middle  of  a  broad  sunny  licld.  He  pulled  him- 
self together  as  soon  as  he  could,  aud  found  the  ex -Pirate 
sitting  in  the  hay  beside  him  with  a  somewhat  bewildered 
expression  on  his  face. 

"I  don't  think  I  like  that  sort  of  thing  very  much."  re- 
marked Tommy. 

"I  can't  quite  say  that  I  do  either,"  said  the  ex-Pirate, 
feeling  to  see  if  his  pistols  were  still  in  his  sash. 

"  Where  is  Father  Time  .'"  continued  the  liltlr  boy. 

"I  don't  know.  Perhaps  he  is  going  ahead  HOB  ai  his 
regular  rate  of  sixty  seconds  to  the  minute." 

Tommy  scratched  his  head  meditativch  and  looked  about 
him.    The  field  in  which  the  hay-stack  stood  was  surround- 
ed by  hills  aud  forests,  and  here  and   there   could   b, 
\aiious   kinds  of  animals    travelling    in    pairs.      Over    the, 


823 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"WHY,  THAT    ARK    IS    JUST    LIKE    MINE!"    EXCLAIMED    TOMMY 


crests  of  tbe  trees,  directly  in  front  of  them,  the  little  buy 
espied  something  that  looked  like  the  roof  of  an  immense 
barn.  He  called  the  ex-Pirate's  attention  to  it. 

"That  must  be  the  Ark,"  said  the  latter,  rising.  "Let's 
go  and  rind  out." 

Tliey  clambered  down  the  hay-stack  into  the  field,  and 
started  off  in  the  direction  of  the  woods.  There  was  not 
any  path  for  them  to  follow,  and  occasionally  they  had  to 
wade  through  tall  grass  that  reached  almost  up  to  their 
waists.  lu  one  of  these  clumps  of  herbage  they  heard 
voices. 

"Oh  dear!  oh  dear!"  said  one  voice,  "I  am  sure  we 
shall  be  late.  We  are  always  late.  Oh  dear!  oh  dear!  I 
wonder  what  time  it  is!" 

Tommy  and  the  ex-Pirate,  stopped  and  looked  about 
them ;  but  they  could  not  see  any  one,  and  were  about  to 
proceed  on  their  way,  when  they  heard  the  same  plaint 
again.  They  parted  the  tall  grasses  and  followed  the  direc- 
tion whence  the  sounds  appeared  to  come,  until  they  found 
two  Turtles  plodding  along  as  fast  as  they  could  over  the 
rough  ground.  It  was  the  larger  of  the  two  Turtles  that 
was  wailing  over  the  probability  of  their  being  late  in  ar- 
riving wherever  they  were  going. 

'•  What's  the  matter?"  asked  the  ex-Pirate. 

The  Turtles  paused  and  looked  up. 

'•  The  matter  ?"  exclaimed  the  larger  Turtle.  "Look  at 
this,"  and  he  pulled  a  newspaper  clipping  out  from  under 
his  shell.  "  I  am  sure  we  shall  be  late." 

The  ex-Pirate  took  the  piece  of  paper  aud  looked  at  it. 
It  was  au  advertisement : 


DKJ.CGK  LINI:: 


THE  AUK 


Will  sail  at  NOON  precisely. 


"I  am  sure  we  shall  miss  the  boat,"  continued  the  Tur- 
tle, nervously.  "  What  time  is  it,  please  f" 

Tommy  and  the  ex-Pirate  looked  at  each  other.  Neither 
one  had  a  watch. 

"I    can't   tell    you    what    time    it    is,"   answered    the 


little  boy.  "  I'm  not  big 
enough  to  have  a  watch ; 
and  the  last,  time  I  saw  the 
clock  it  was  going  so  fast 
I  could  not  tell  what  time 
it  was." 

"  Well,"  said  the  Turtle, 
"you  are  more  polite  than 
the  Cuckoos,  anyway.  But 
I  am  sure  we  shall  be  late." 
"  I  guess  not,"  said  the 
ex  -  Pirate,  reassuringly. 
"Don't  get  nervous  about 
it.  There  is  always  a  de- 
lay. The  Ark  won't  sail 
on  time.  Aud  besides,  they 
•will  have  to  -wait  for  the 
mails." 

"  Oh  no,"  persisted  the 
Turtle.  ''They  won't  have 
to  wait  for  the  males,  be- 
cause we  are  going  aboard 
iu  pairs." 

"  Can't  we  carry  tlie 
poor  things  ?"  suggested 
Tommy.  "  It  would  be  too 
bad  if  they  got  left." 

The  Turtle  looked  up  at 
the  little  boy  with  an  ex- 
pression of  overwhelming 
gratitude.  This  was  all 
that  was  needed  to  per- 
suade the  ex-Pirate,  and 
so  he  and  Tommy  leaned 

over  aud  each  picked  up  a  Turtle  and  tucked  it  under  his 
arm. 

"This  reminds  me  of  a  conversation  I  overheard  once," 
said  the  ex-Pirate,  as  they  started  off  again.  "I  made  a  clas- 
sic out  of  it ;  and  as  the  Sheep  is  not  here  to  object  uow,  I 
will  recite  it  to  you : 

" '  It  is  much  to  be  regretted,' 

Said  the  Turtle  to  the  Snail, 
That  as  rapid  -  transit  creatures 
\Ve  so  signally  must  fail. 

"'But  yet  we  should  be  thankful 

That  Nature  still  allows  us 
To  carry  on  our  weary  'backs 
The  wherewithal  to  house  us.'  " 

"Correct!"  blurted  out  the  Turtle  from  under  the  ex- 
Pirate's  arm.  "Is  there  any  danger  of  these  pistols  going 
off?" 

"  No,"  replied  the  ex-Pirate  ;  "  they  are  loaded." 

"  That's  all  right,  then,"  he  said,  with  a  sigh  of  relief;  "  I 
was  afraid  they  were  not  loaded." 

Tommy  and  the  ex-Pirate,  with  the  Turtles  under  their 
arms,  picked  their  way  through  the  trees  toward  the  Ark. 
As  they  advanced  they  could  hear  sounds  as  of  a  vast  con- 
gregation of  creatures,  aud  at  last,  when  they  came  to  the 
edge  of  the  woods,  they  looked  out  upon  a  broad  plain,  iu  the 
centre  of  which  rested  the  huge  house-boat  that  Noah  had 
constructed.  Around  it  were  gathered  hundreds  and  hun- 
dreds of  animals,  aud  iu  the  air  above  were  flying  count- 
less birds. 

"Why,  that  Ark  is  just  like  mine!"  exclaimed  Tummy, 
"only  a  million  times  larger."  The  ex -Pirate  looked  at 
him  iu  a  half-surprised  way.  but  made  no  reply 

••  I  guess  you  can  drop  us  here,"  then  said  Tommy's  Tur- 
tle ;  '•  and  we  are  ever  so  much  obliged."  As  soon  as  the 
two  creatures  had  been  put  down  upon  the  ground  again 
they  scampered  off  in  the  direction  of  the  Ark  as  fast  as 
their  legs  would  carry  them. 

•'Now  what  shall  we  do?"  said  Tommy. 

"I  guess  we  had  better  hold  a  council  of  war.  When 
you  don't  know  what  to  do,  always  hold  a  council  of  war," 
answered  the  ex-Pirate,  aud  the  two  sat  down  in  the  shade 
of  a  big  oak  to  consult. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


INTERSCHOEASTIC 


WARE  HAS  TURNED  THE  TABI.KS  ON  WHITMAN*.  They 
met  in  tlie  finals  at  Newcastle,  but  it  was  6-4,  7-5, 
4-6,  and  5-7  before  the  interscholastic  cbanipion  could 
make  it  8-6  in  the  fifth  set,  and  call  the  tournament  liis. 
There  was  good  playing  that  day,  and  the  schools  can  take 
pride  in  the  fact  that  they  are  sending  new  material,  and 
better,  into  the  tennis  ranks  this  season  than  has  en- 
tered for  many  a  year.  These  new-comers  are  putting 
up  a  careful,  steady  game  too.  The  principal  failing  of 
yonug  and  promising  players  in  former  years  has  been 
their  inclination  to  play  more  for  the  benefit  of  the  spec- 
tators than  for  the  points  of  the  game.  But  to  sacrifice 
points  for  applause  is  a  very  evident  absurdity,  and  so  I 
was  glad  to  see  at  the  Wentworth  that  most  of  the  men 
aimed  to  put  up  a  steady  game. 

WARE  AND  WHITMAN  are  so  nearly  even  in  their  play 
that  it  is  difficult  to  determine  which  is  the  better  man. 
Ware  no  doubt  has  the  greater  powers  of  endurance, 
and  I  should  count  on  him  to  win  more  tournaments 
in  the  long-run,  but  Whitman  is  certainly  strong  in 
emergencies  and  steady  at  critical  moments.  Ware's  best 
strokes  are  his  cross-court  plays,  which  I  have  no  doubt 
lie  will  eventually  develop  to  a  standard  of  proficiency 
superior  to  that  of  any  player  in  the  country.  He  volleys 
well,  too,  and  when  in  back  court  often  puts  in  some  good 
smashes.  Whitman  is  clever  at  a  drive,  and  puts  speed 
into  his  strokes,  but  he  has  riot  the  physical  development 
to  stand  along  match.  His  game  would  no  doubt  be  great- 
ly improved  if  be  should  devote  himself  during  the  winter 
to  general  athletic  exercise.  He  smashes  well,  and  is  ex- 
cellent on  volleying.  The  performance  of  Beals  Wright 
at  the  Weutworth  tournament  was  a  surprise  to  many. 
For  a  fifteen-year-old  lad  he  certainly  can  play  tennis. 
Scudder  was  also  on  hand,  and  repeated  some  of  his  clever 
work  at  Longwood.  He  put  up  even  a  better  game  at 
Newcastle,  defeating  Budloug  in  the  second  round,  but  he 
succumbed  to  Ware  in  the  semi-finals. 


LEONARD  E.  WARE. 


liibition   of  particularly   fine   play.     The  score   seesawed, 
until  Whitman  took  the   fifth  and   sixth   games,  and  then 
Ware  got  the  next  four  and  the  set.     But  in  the  second 
set  there  was  pretty  ten- 
nis.    Whitman  did  some         _^__^^______^_ 

clever  placing,  and 
Ware's  drives  called  forth 
considerable  applause.  In 
the  eighth  game  there 
was  an  amusing  lobbing 
contest,  which  finally 
turned  to  Ware's  favor, 
and  he  followed  up  the 
advantage  with  some 
clean  passes  across  that 
added  the  ninth  to  his 
score. 

POOR  PLAY  character- 
ized the  opening  of  the 
third  set,  not  a  point  be- 
ing earned  iu  the  first 
game.  Whitman  took  it, 
and  Wrare  got  the  second 
on  his  opponent's  suc- 
cessive outs.  Then  Ware 
came  up  to  the  net  aud 
put  in  some  good  strokes  ; 
but  Whitman  was  steady- 
ing down  by  this  time, 
aud  with  some  clever 

passes   aud  good  volley-  s-  A  SYME. 

ing  he  got  his  first  set. 
He  took  the  next  one,  too, 

made  lively  by  sharp  work  on  both  sides  with  many  deuce 
games  and  plenty  of  fierce  volleying.  Then  came  the 
rubber.  Ware  was  warmed  up,  and  kept  driving  the  ball 
at  his  opponent.  Whitman  set  his  hopes  on  placing,  aud 
played  a  careful  steady  game.  AVare  took  the  first  two 
games,  and  Whitman  got  the  following  three,  aud  then  it 
was  a  seesaw  until  the  twelfth.  Deuce  was  called  five 
times  iu  the  eleventh  game  before  Whitman  could  win  it. 
He  was  leading,  then,  6-5.  But  AArare  quickly  brought  the 
score  to  games  all,  and  by  beaut  il'ul  placing  earned  the  two 
following,  the  set  and  the  match. 

IT  IS  TO  BE  REGRETTED  that  all  the  interscholastic 
cracks  will  not  meet  at  Newport.  Sheldon  of  Hotchkiss 
Academy,  wjuner  of  the  Yale  iuterscholastic  tourney,  can- 
not be  present  because  he  is  out  West,  where  In-  must  stand 
again  to  defend  the  championship  of  Ohio,  which  he  won 
last  year.  For  a  similar  reason  McMahou,  the  Brooklyn  iu- 
terscholastic champion,  will  be  absent.  He  lias  won  the 
Lelaud  House  tournament  at  Schroou  Lake  for  the  past 
two  years,  aud  if  he  wins  again  this  summer  the  Eelaud 
House  cup  is  his.  That  tournament  occurs  about  the  same 
period  as  the  Newport  Intel-scholastic  But  the  schools 
will  be  well  represented,  nevertheless,  and  we  may  look  for- 
ward to  seeing  even  better  tennis  this  year  than  at  any- 
previous  iuterscholastic  tournament. 

ALTHOUGH  IT  is  NOW  S.IMI:WIIAI  I.ATI.  IN  mi  >i  \s.'N 
to  recur  to  the  spring  championship  series  of  baseliall.it 
-.•nils  advisable  to  insert  tin-  result  of  tin-  New  England 
Intel-scholastic  League  contest,  if  oul\  for  tin-  sake  of  the 
record  which  it.  will  serve  'The  outcome  ofiln-  series  was 


WHITM  \N  WAS  APPARENTLY  not  in  the  best  of  condition  not  wholly  satisfactory,  because  the  Cambridge  High  and 

when   he  stepped  into   court  for  the  final   match,  but  he  Latin  School  nine  tied  llopkinson's  for  Brs1 

warmed  up  to  his  work  as  the  games  piled  up,  and  showed  deciding  game  was  arranged.     Had  ii   been    i 

good  form  iu  the  last  three  sets.     The  first  offered  no  ex-  meu  would  doubtless  ha\c  won 


835 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


and  in  the  Held  gave  excellent  support  to  Stearns,  who 
VMS  one  of  the  best  pitchers  in  the  association.  The  Hop- 
kiiisou  players  were  likewise  strong  at  the  bat,  but  prone 
to  get  rattled.  The  surprise  of  the  season  was  English 
I  linh's  defeat  of  the  Cambridge  team — in  a  most  exciting 
contest — after  having  lost  to  almost  every  other  nine  iu 
the  league.  The  scores  follow  : 

April  26.— Hop.,  13  ;  Som.  H.,  11. 
J/ai/  ].—  Hop. ,6;  B.L.S.,5  (12  innings). 

"     9.— B.L.S.,  5;  Som.  H.,  4. 

"   10.— Hop.,  15;  E.H.-S.,  14. 

"  11.— C.H.  and  L.,  24;  R.L.S.,  12. 

"   16.— E.H.-S.,  14;  Som.  H.,  1. 

"  17.— C.H.  andL.,  8;  Hop.,  5. 

"  21.— B.L.S.,8;  R.L.S.,6. 

"  22.— C.H.  and  L.,  7  ;  Som.  H.,  0. 

"  24.— Hop.,  19;  R.L.S.,13. 

"  2r,._ C.H.  and  L.,  17;  B.L.S.,0. 

"  28.— R.L.S.,5;  Som.  H.,  4. 

"  31.— B.L.S.,  10;  E.H.-S.,  5. 
June  4.— R.L.S.,  15;  E.H.-S.,  10. 

"     7.— E.H.-S..4;  C.H.  and  L.,3. 

CANOEING  is  ABOUT  AS  GOOD  an  out-door  sport  as  any 
for  the  month  of  August,  but  it  is  a  pastime  largely  re- 
stricted to  inland  waters.  You  cau  paddle  and  sail  a 
canoe  along  the  sea-shore,  of  course  ;  but  this  is  dangerous 
business  for  any  but  the  most  experienced  canoeist,  and 
thoroughly  unadvisable.  Canoes  were  not  intended  for 
rough  water.  But  there  is  nothing  more  delightful  than 
to  paddle  youiself  along  a  winding  stream  through  the 
quiet  woods,  or  sail  in  your  light  craft  across  some,  beau- 
tiful lake  in  the  mountains.  To  those  who  have  never 
tasted  thi.s  pleasure  it  cau  truly  be  recommended.  Oue  of 
the  objections  to  indulging  in  it,  many  will  say,  is  the  ex- 
pense involved  in  the  purchase  of  a  canoe.  But  this  may 
be  very  easily  overcome  by  any  one  gifted  with  even  the 
slightest  constructive  ingenuity.  If  you  can  saw  to  a  line 
and  plane  an  edge,  and  drive  a  nail,  you  cau  build  a  canoe 
for  yourself  at  very  small  cost. 

THE  SIMPLEST  KIND  OF  CANOE  is  made  of  canvas,  and  for 
the  purpose  of  a  novice  in  the  graceful  art  of  paddling 
it  is  just  as  serviceable  as  a  more  expensive  boat.  Very 
little  material  is  required  to  construct  one,  and  the  cost, 
including  everything,  will  not  exceed  $12.  First  procure 
two  strips  of  pine  board  12J  feet  by  2  inches  by  J  of  an 
inch;  a  bunch  of  oak  strips  li  by  i  inch,  and  about  4  feet 
long;  a  bunch  of  pine  strips  13  feet  long  by  l\  by  i  inch  ; 
and  a  piece  of  spruci;  12  feet  long  by  2  inches  by  1|  inch. 
Tliis  last  piece  is  to  be  used  for  the  keel,  to  the  ends  of 
which  are  fastened  the  stem  and  stem  posts.  These  are 
both  alike,  and  should  be  sawed  out  of  a  pine  plank  in 
the  curved  shape  displayed  in  Fig.  A.  Lay  out  your  curve 
on  the  plank  in  pencil  first,  then  saw  to  the  line,  and  level 
the  edge,  so  that  the  prow  will  slip  through  the  water 
easily.  Next,  saw  into  both  ends  of  your  keel  piece,  insert 
the  stem  and  stern  pieces ;  then  plane  the  keel  piece  so  that 
it  will  come  to  a  point  both  forward  and  aft.  Fasten  these 
uprights  to  the  keel  with  copper  nails  or  rivets.  They 
are  better  than  any  other  kind  because  they  do  not  rust. 

NEXT,  LAY  OUT  A  CROSS  SECTION  of  your  canoe  on 
a  plank,  and  saw  this  out.  Your  section  should  be  2  ft.  6 
in.  across  the  top,  which  is  the  breadth  of  beam  of  your 
canoe;  it  should  be  24  inches  high,  which  is  the  depth  of 
the  craft ;  and  the  side  lines  of  the  section,  which  will  de- 
termine the  lines  of  your  canoe,  should  be  gracefully 
rounded,  so  that  the  boat  when  finished  will  appear  as  iu 
Fig.  B.  Now,  then,  fasten  your  section  upright  on  the  keel, 
and  with  the  bow,  the  stern,  and  the  breadth  of  beam  thus 
M  tiled,  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  nail  your  two  pine  strips 
(12J  ft.  by  2  in.  by  |  in.)  to  the  bow  and  the  stern.  They 
will  get.  their  spread  from  the  mid-section.  The  skeleton 
of  the  canoe  is  now  complete,  and  the  inside  ribs  may  be 
beut  on. 

IN  oKDKit  TO  MAKE  THE  OAK  sTKirs  pliable,  boil  them  in 
water  until  you  can  twist  them  into  any  shape  you  choose. 


Then  nail  them  to  the  keel  at  their  middle  point  and  to 
the  gunwale  boards  above,  sawing  off  the  protruding  ends. 
These  strips  form  the  ribs,  and  when  they  dry  out  they 
will  keep  the  form  they  assumed  when  nailed  on.  All  the 
nails  should  be  of  copper,  and  clinched  when  driven  in  ; 
this  is  done  by  holding  a  flat  iron  against  the  points  as 
they  come  through.  There  should  be  six  inches  of  .spare 
between  each  rib.  Next  take  your  thin  pine  strips,  which 
are  of  about  the  same  length  as  your  sheer  planks,  and 
plane  them  on  one  side  only.  These  are  now  fastened  to 
the  ribs  lengthwise,  the  unplaned  side  out,  parallel  to  the 
gunwales,  about  two  inches  apart.  This  brings  all  the 
planking  on  the  outside  of  the  ribs.  Be  sure  to  have  the 
protruding  lines  (after  the  canvas  is  put  on)  run  fore  and 
aft,  and  do  not  forget  that  the  planking  is  brought  down 
to  a  tine  point  at  the  stem  and  stern,  and  is  securely 
clinched. 

THE  CANOE  is  NOW  READT  to  be  decked.  Fig.  C  shows 
about  where  the  deck  pieces  should  be  fixed  to  form  the 
cock -pit.  They  ought  to  be  inserted  about  a  quarter 
length  of  the  boat  from  each  end.  The  deck  beams  should 


Fio.  A. 


FIB.  B. 


FIG.  0. 

be  of  one-inch  square  spruce,  and  as  soon  as  they  are 
clinched  in  you  can  saw  out  your  mid-section,  which  is 
now  of  no  further  use  except  as  lumber.  As  such  it  will 
come  iu  handy  for  braces,  etc.  On  top  of  your  deck  beams 
lay  the  cock-pit  combing  of  2  in.  by  }  iu.  pine,  putting  iu 
braces  of  triangular-shaped  pine  underneath  as  a  support 
to  and  from  the  ribs.  After  all  the  ribs  are  thus  securely 
fastened,  turn  your  boat  bottom  upward  and  lay  on  the 
canvas. 

Tins  is  BY  NO  MEANS  an  easy  matter,  as  you  will  soon 
find  out,  but  patience  and  care  will  do  much  toward  mak- 
ing the  undertaking  less  difficult.  Medium-weight  sail 
duck  is  a  good  kind  of  canvas  to  get,  and  second-hand  ma- 
terial will  do,  provided  it  is  firm;  in  fact,  weather-beaten 
canvas  is  preferable,  as  it  has  a  smoother  and  more  pliable 
surface.  To  insure  its  setting  firmly  and  smoothly  make 
four  gores  along  the  upper  edge  on  each  side  and  sew  them 
h'rmly.  Sponge  the  canvas  off  on  both  sides  with  water, 
and  while  damp  tack  it  along  the  gunwale,  allowing  the 
stem  and  stern-posts  to  protrude  half  an  inch.  Use  gal- 
vanized iron  or  copper  tacks,  and  do  not  be  afraid  of  putting 
them  too  near  together.  If  yon  don't  use  plenty  of  tacks 
there  will  be  danger  of  a  leak.  Now  turn  your  boat  right 
side  up  again,  and  as  the  canvas  dries  it  will  tighten  and. 
set  with  a  firm  surface.  Have  the  canoe  dry  iu  the  sun  if 
possible. 

BEFORE  TACKING  ON  THE  DECK  CANVAS,  give  the  inside 
aud  outside  of  the  hull  a  liberal  coat  of  a  mixture  composed 
of  three-quarters  boiled  oil  to  one-quarter  raw  oil,  with 
some  patent  drier.  This  acts  as  a  filler  for  the  canvas,  aud 
makes  it  water-tight.  When  this  has  become  perfectly 
dry,  apply  two  coats  of  brown  ready-mixed  paint  for  the 
inside,  and  two  of  dark  green  for  the  outside.  These  are 
serviceable  colors.  But  before  applying  the  last  coat  of 
paint,  put  on  a  gunwale  -  waring  strip  of  1-iu.  spruce, 
and  a  spruce  keel  of  1  in.  by  I  iu.  As  the  keel  and 
waring  strips  are  put  on  after  the  canvas  has  been 
painted,  they  ought  to  receive  two  coats  of  filler  and  one 
of  spar  varnish.  This  adds  greatly  to  the  appearance  of 
the  canoe.  It  is  not  advisable  for  the  novice  to  attempt  to 
manufacture  his  own  paddle.  It  is  cheaper  iu  the  end  to 
buy  one,  aud  a  good  paddle  is  to  be  had  for  §3. 


820 


I-IARPEE'S   EOUND   TABLE 


THE    TWO     SCHOLASTIC    KKrr.I'.SEXTATIVES 

at  tbe  Metropolitan  championships  of  the 
A.  A. II.  held  in  Syracuse  \\riv  Syme  of  Bar- 
nard Scliool  anil  lialtazzi  of  Harvard  School. 
Syme  entered  as  a  member  of  the  New  Jer- 
sey Athletic  Chili,  while  Baltazzi  wore  the 
winded  foot.  The  latter  ilitl  not  jump  to 
his  usual  mark,  dropping  out  at  5  ft.  9  in. 
Some  excuse  fur  this  may  lie  that  he  \\  renched 
his  ankle  at  that  period  of  the  contest,  and 
could  not  do  hetter  afterwards.  But  Syme 
was  iu  better  fortune.  He  contested  the 
low  hurdles  with  Sheldon  and  Chase,  and 
won.  To  he  sure,  Sheldon  fell  oil  the  eighth 
obstacle, but  Syme  breasted  the  tape  never- 
theless in  28J  sees.  It  is  encouraging  for 
all  lovers  of  sport  to  see  how  the  school 
athletes — the  real  representatives  of  the 
younger  generation — are  getting  iu  every- 
where, aud  getting  iu  with  credit  to  them- 
selves. THE  GRADUATE. 


This  Deviurtui^iit    i-  ,  ,,n.lu.  t.<,l    ::,    lln-   u,K-i~t    nf  stamp  ftnd  coi 
collector!,  and  the  Edilor  »ill  b«  pleased  to  answer  mij-  que.ii™  o 
.  i-i'U  ao  far  as  possible.    Curresimudcnta  should  address  EJito 
Stamp  Department. 


Tl^HE  rise  in  value  of  many  scarce  stamps 
I  during  the  past  two  years  has  been 
phenomenal.  For  instance,  the  £1  brown, 
1878  issue,  with  anchor  water-mark,  in  un- 
used condition.  Two  years  ago  this  stamp 
could  be  bought  for  §15,  whereas  the  last 
copy  sold  of  which  I  have  any  record 
brought  $250.  The  one  shilling  1862,  with 
white  line  across  the  corners  of  it,  un- 
used, was  catalogued  at  650,  a  little  more 
than  a  year  ago,  but  to-day  would  probably 
bring  sunn  at  auction.  The  eurious  thing 
about  this  stamp  is  that  hitherto  not  a 
single  copy  has  beeu  found  in  used  condi- 
tion. Without  the  white  line  this  stamp 
used  is  worth  fifteen  cents,  and  hundreds 
of  thousands  were  sent  to  this  country  every 
month  for  three  years  (1802-65). 

THK  FINEST  AND  .MUST  complete  catalogue 
of  U.S.  stamps  from  \-^'i'.\  to  1870  has  just 
beeu  published  iu  England  at  ten  shillings. 
The  work  is  illustrated  by  numerous  plates 
aud  fac-similes,  and  it  takes  note  of  the 
most  minute  varieties.  It  was  written  by 
Gilbert  Harrison,  who  possessed  at  the  time 
of  his  death  the  finest  collection  of  U.S. 
envelopes  ever  made. 

ACTIVE  STEPS  HAVE  BEEN  taken  to  form 
alist  of  those  philatelic  pests,  "speculative" 
issues  which  threaten  to  bring  stamp-col- 
lecting into  disrepute.  Quite  properly  the 
initial  steps  have  been  taken  iu  London,  as 
some  of  the  earliest  as  well  as  latest  offenders 
in  this  respect  have  been  some  of  the  colo- 
nies of  Great  Britain.  All  the  so-called 
Chinese  local  stamps,  the  San  Marino  Jubi- 
lee, St.  Anthony  Jubilee  of  Portugal,  as  well 
as  mauy  of  the  surcharged  colonial  stamps, 
should  be  avoided  by  every  collector.  The 
money  spent  o»  them  is  simply  thrown 
away. 

C.  A.  S.— The  1834  dime  is  catalogued  at  40c.,  in  fine 
coudition;  20c.,  in  fair. 


M.  S.  S.—  Fifty  cents  a  thousand- 

H.  F.  Coorcit. — Tim  Paris  and  London  prinN  an- 
much  HINT  I  h, i  M  the  lielunuu  anil  Athens  print?.  The 
same  plates  being  used  in  both  places. 

W.  T.  BLAOKWKI.I.  —  "  Ke->'iiLfraved  "  stamps  mean 
tlntM'  Mamps  of  which  the  original  die  having  been 
somewhat  worn  by  llie  many  transfers,  has  its  lines 
deepened.  Tlie  n-ult  i-  always  a  commoner-looking 
stamp  than  the  uni_riiial,  and  it  the  same  ink  N  ii^'il, 
the  re-engraved  looks  much  darker  and  heavier.  An 
article  on  the  diUt-renl  kinds  ot  pain-i  will  pi-ohahly 
be  printed  soon. 

J.  II  MUSG.— Probably  no  j:  I'.S.  coin  was  iss I  in 

1504.  The  die  was  prepared  but  not  used.  About 
fifty  years  ago  the  die  disappeared  from  the  Mint,  but 
\\as  leturned  after  an  interval  of  some  months.  Ever 
since  that  time,  at  long  intervals,  one  of  the  coins 
comes  upon  the  market.  The  first  one  brought  $101111, 
the  last  one  ahont  $500. 

A.  B.  KKTCIIAM.— Always  send  a  2c.  stamp  if  you 
wish  an  answer,  or,  still  better,  a  self  -  addressed 
stamped  envelope. 

PHILATUS. 


BOUGHT  HIS  OWN  PUENITUKE. 

AN  amusing  story  is  told  of  a  gentleman 
living  in  London.  As  the  anecdote 
goes,  it  seems  that  he  had  a  passion  for  the 
purchase  of  second-hand  furniture  at  auc- 
tions, and  that  in  making  "good  bargains" 
he  had  filled  his  house  with  antiquated  and 
almoM  useless  articles.  Upon  one  occasion 
his  wife  took  the  responsibility,  without 
consulting  her  husband,  to  have  a  portion 
of  the  least  useful  of  the  pieces  removed  to 
an  auction-room  to  be  sold.  Great  was  her 
dismay  when,  on  the  eveuing  of  the  day  of 
the  sale,  the  majority  of  the  articles  came 
baek  to  the  house.  The  husband  had  stum- 
bled into  the  auction-room,  and,  not  know- 
ing his  own  furniture,  had  purchased  it  at  a 
better  bargain  than  at  first. 


INDIA-KUBBER  BAIT. 

ACCORDING  to  a  Troy  fisherman,  the 
latest  triumph  of  Yankee  inventive 
genius  is  an  India-rubber  fish-worm.  It  is 
said  to  be  a  remarkably  good  imitation  of 
the  common  earthworm,  is  indestructible, 
aud  iu  actual  use  proves  as  alluring  to  the 
fishes  as  the  genuine  article.  The  old  fisher- 
man will  be  quick  to  see  its  advantages. 
One  can  equip  himself  for  a  day's  sport 
without  digging  over  a  whole  garden  iu 
his  search  for  bait.  A  handful  of  India- 
rubber  worms  will  last  him  a  whole  season, 


am!    there     will     be    no    necessity     for     pulling 

up  the   lii very  ten   minutes  to  see   if   the 

small-fry  nibblers  have   1,-ft    ihe   | K    hare. 

It    is  possibly  hardly  necessary  to  add     here 
I  hal    t  lie   fisherman   \\  ho  lells  of    ihis   in    .  n 
tion   may  be   like  other  fishermen,   in    \\hicli 

case    the     reader     need    mil      be]ie\  e     I  IH 
unless  In-   wants   to. 


QTICK    WIT. 

ACOMl'.nlAX   in  a  French   tin-all, 
mail--  a  ureat  hit  out  of  a  painful  ac- 
cident.     One  day,  while   indulging  in  a  bit 
of  horse-play  on  the   staye.  he   hit   his  head 
violently,  entirely  an  accident,  against    (I 
nf  t  he  pillars  of  the  .scene  on  the  sia;;e.     i  i]  i 
hearing   the    thud  everybody  uttered  a  •  i 

"No  great    harm  d -,"  said   the  comedian. 

"Just  hand  me  a  napkin,  a  glass  of  \\  ater. 
and  a  salt  cellar."  These  \\ere  brought, 
and  he  sat  down,  folded  ihe  napkin  in  the 
form  of  a  bandage,  dipped  it  in  the  u!a-s, 
and  emptied  the  sal  I -cellar  on  the  \\  el  part. 
i  I  a  \  ing  thus  prepared  a  compress  neeoi  <1 1  n^ 
to  prescription,  and  when  everyone  ex  pee  led 
he  would  apply  it  to  his  ton-head,  he  ui  ave 
ly  rose  and  lied  it  round  the  pillar.  The 

effect  of  his  action  was  such  that  everj  • 

set  him  down  as  the  readiest  and  wittiest 
man  iu  his  profession. 


THE    FIEST   TELEPHONE. 

rpHE  .Sheffield  Ti  /..//•«/,//  gives  the  follow- 
.L.  ing  interesting  account  of  the  first  tele- 
phone of  which  there  is  record : 

The  first  telephone  that  was  ever  used 
was  not  electrical,  nor  was  it  a  scientific  in- 
strument in  any  sense  of  the  term.  A  little 
more  than  fifty  years  ago  the  employees  of 
a  large  manufactory  beguiled  their  leisure 
hours  by  kite  living.  Kites  large  and  small 
went  up  daily,  aud  the  strife  was  to  see  who 
could  get  the  largest.  The  twine  that  held 
them  was  the  thread  spun  and  twisted  by 
the  ladies  of  the  village. 

One  day  to  the  tail  of  the  largest  kiti 
attached  a  kitten,  sewed  iu  a  canvas  hag. 
with  a  netting  over  the  mouth  to  give,  it 
air.  When  the  kite  was  at  its  greatest 
height,  some  two  hundred  feet  or  more,  the 
mewing  of  the  Kitten  could  be  distinctly 
heard  by  those  holding  the  string.  To  the 
clearness  of  tin-  atmosphere  was  attributed 
the  hearing  of  the  kitten's  voice.  This  is 
the  first  account  we  remember  of  speaking 
along  a  line. 


.A-DVHJPtXISRIVlKNXS. 


Highest  of  all  in  Leavening  Power. — Latest  U.  S.  Gov't  Report 


Powder 


ABSOLUTELY   PURE 


HARPER'S   NEW   CATALOlil  I  . 

Jily  revised,  d.issitkd,  ami  i 
by  mail  to  any  address  on  receipt  at  ten  cents. 


827 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Bicycle  route. 

Fair  bicycle  road 
-~+~Railway  station. 
/*" 'Hill or poor  road. 

Hotel. 


BICYCLING 


This  Department  is  conducted  in  the  interest  of  Bicyclers,  atni  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to 
answer  any  question  on  the  subject.  Our  maps  and  tours  contain  much  valuable  data  kindly 
supplied  from  the  official  maps  and  road-books  of  the  League  of  American  Wheelmen.  Recog- 
nizing the  value  of  the  work  being  done  by  the  L.  A.  W.,  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to  furrish 
subscribers  with  membership  blanks  and  information  go  far  as  possible. 

IN  No.  822,  on  the  map  of  the  city  of  Philadelphia,  the 
reader  of  this  Department  will  notice  Woodland  Avenue, 
running  out  from  Market  Street,  across  the  Schnylkill 
River,  southwest.  This  is  the  beginning  of  the  route  to 
West  Chester,  a  run  of  about  twenty-seven  miles.  The  run 
itself  may  be  made  both  ways,  in  which  case  the  rider  will 
have  covered  fifty-three  or  fifty-four  miles,  or  it  may  be 
only  covered  in  one  direction,  and  the  train  from  there 
taken  back  to  Philadelphia.  Starting  from  the  public 
buildings,  and  running  westward  on  Market  Street  across 
the  ferry,  and  thence  by  a  turn  to  the  left  down  Woodland 
Avenue,  the  rider  will  find  asphalt  pavement  until  he 
roaches  Baltimore  Avenue.  Woodland  Avenue  from  here 
for  a  short  distance  down  towards  Darby  is  paved  with 
Belgian  pavement,  but  it  is  very  rideable,  and  for  the  six 
and  a  half  miles  to  Darby  is  as  good  a  road  as  it  is  possible 
to  find.  Running  out  of  Darby,  passing  the  car  stables, 
the  route,  a  mile  and  a  half,  is  direct  to  Lausdowne,  -where 
the  rider  crosses  the  railroad,  and  makes  direct  for  Haver- 
ford.  The  roads  are  here  macadamized,  in  the  best  of  con- 
dition, and  moderately  level.  On  reaching  Haverford,  the 
rider  should  turn  to  the  left  into  the  West  Chester  turnpike. 
There  is  a  sign  here-designating  that  it  is  four  miles  to 
Darby.  Passing  through  Manoa,  hardly  a  mile  further  on, 
you  continue  always  on  the  West  Chester  turnpike  through 
Broouiall,  two  miles;  Newtowu  Square,  two  miles  and 
a  half;  Edgemont,  Willistown,  and  Milltown,  to  West 
Chester,  eleven  miles.  The  road  from  Manoa  to  West 
Chester  is  macadamized  as  far  as  Newtowu  Square.  From 
this  point  on  to  West  Chester  it  is  more  sandy  and  more 
hilly,  and  the  road  is  in  a  much  poorer  condition  ;  but  by 
making  a  judicious  selection  of  side  paths,  excepting  when 
passing  through  the  villages,  you  will  find  the  road  very 
rideable.  From  Newtown  Square  to  West  Chester  there  are 
a  number  of  capital  coasting  hills.  The  road  is  straight, 
you  see  the  foot  of  the  hill  before  starting  to  coast,  and  the 
grade  in  most  cases  is  long  and  gradual.  In  fact,  this  West 
Chester  route  is  famous  for  its  good  coasting.  On  the  whole 
distance  there  is  but,  one  doubtful  turn,  and  that  is  about  a 
mile  out  of  Newtowu  Square  going  towards  West  Chester, 
when'  the  rider  should  take  the  left  fork  in  the  road.  The 
right  fork,  as  will  be  noticed  on  the  map,  also  runs  into 
West  Chester,  but  the  road  is  much  more  hilly,  and  not  in 
such  good  condition. 

IN  GIVING  THESE  DIFFERENT  Tiups  in  the  vicinity  of 
Philadelphia,  or  of  any  other  city,  it  must  not  be  understood 
that  they  are  not  by  any  means  the  only  ones,  or  that  the 
route  really  ends  at  the  point  designated  on  the  map.  The 
road  beyond  West  Chester  is  quite  as  good  riding  as  between 
West  Chester  and  Newtowu  Square,  but  this  particular  ride 
is  a  very  pleasant  one,  through  a  pleasant  country,  and 
ends  up  in  an  attractive  village,  where  the  rider  may  put 
up  without  discomfort  at  a  good  road  house  —  the  Green 
Tree.  This  same  trip,  for  example,  can  be  extended  from 
West  Chester  to  Wilmington.  Delaware,  which  is  about 
twenty  miles  further  on.  The  stop  is  arbitrarily  made  at 
West  Chester  because  that  makes  a  pleasant  day's  run  for 
the  average  rider.  Nest  week  we  shall  give  the  first  half 
of  a  two-day's  run,  and  theii,  before  treating  of  more  trips 
in  the  -vicinity  of  Philadelphia,  we  shall  move  from  New 
York  towards  Boston,  and  give  a  series  of  trips  in  the  vi- 
cinity of  Boston  itself. 

NOTE  —  Mftp  of  New  YorU  city  asphalted  streets  in  No.  809.  Map  of 
route  from  New  York  to  Tarry  town  in  No.  810.  New  York  to  Stamford, 


. 

No  818  Hudson  to  Albany  in  No.  S1S>.  Tottenville  to  Trenton  in  820. 
Trenton  lo  Philadelphia  in  821.  Philadelphia  in  No.  821.  Philadelphia 
—  Wissahickou  Route  in  No.  822. 


Copyright,  1895,  by  Harper  &  Brothers. 


HAEPEE'S  ROUND  TABLE 


THE  DEPTH  OF  THE  SEA. 

MALL  boys  often  ask  their  parents,"  How 
O  deep  is  the  sea  ?"  The  answer  depends 
entirely  upon  the  sea.  The  following  tal'li1. 
compiled  by  one  who  has  investigated,  may 
help  one  to  the  solution  of  one  of  the  small 
boy's  problems.  Average  depth  in  yards: 
Pacific,  4252;  Atlantic,  4026  ;  Indian,  3658  ; 
Antarctic,  3000;  Arctic,  1690;  Mediterrane- 
an, 1476;  Irish,  240;  English  Channel,  110; 
Adriatic,  45  ;  Baltic,  43. 

A  SUBMARINE  DINNER  PARTY. 

SOME  time  ago  the  labor  of  deepening  the 
harbor  of  Ciotat  was  completed.  To 
celebrate  the  completion  of  his  labor,  and  to 
make  the  occasion  memorable,  the  contrac- 
tor gave  to  the  members  of  his  staff  and  the 
representatives  of  the  press  a  banquet  un- 
precedented for  its  originality.  The  table 
•was  set  eight  metres  below  the  level  of  the 
sea,  at  the  very  bottom  of  the  harbor,  inside 
the  "  caisson  "  in  which  the  excavators  had 
been  at  work,  and  only  the  narrow  walls  of 
this  caisson  separated  the  guests  from  the 
enormous  mass  of  water  around  and  above 
their  heads.  The  new-fashioned  bani|in-t- 
iug-hall  was  splendidly  decorated  and  light- 
ed, and  hilt  for  a  certain  buzzing  in  the  ears, 
caused  by  the  pressure  of  air  kept  up  in  the 
chamber  in  order  to  prevent  the  inrush  of 
water,  nobody  would  have  suspected  that 
the  slightest  interruption  in  the  working 
of  the  air-pump  would  have  sufficed  to  as- 
phyxiate the  whole  party.  After  the  ban- 
quet an  improvised  concert  prolonged  the 
festivity  for  several  hours,  after  which  the 
guests  reasceuded  into  the  open  air. 


A  Visit  to  a  Famous  Furnace. 

Some  time  ago  when  I  was  staying  at  Lebanon, 
Pa.,  I  bad  the  pleasure  of  visiting  the  Colebrook 
furnace.  This  is  wbat  is  called  a  "  blast  furnace," 
because  the  draught  for  the  fires  is  made  artificial- 
ly by  the  forcing  iu  of  a  strong  current  of  air.  Much 
iron  is  smelted  in  that  region,  the  ore  coming  from 
the  famous  Cornwall  ore  hills  near  by.  The  Cole- 
brook  produces  about  175  tons  of  iron  daily. 

It  was  on  a  hazy  June  morning  that  our  party 
took  a  new  trolley-car  that  bad  been  running  only 
a  few  days,  and  after  riding  a  short  distance  into 
the  country,  alighted  quite  near  the  furnace,  which 
seemed  to  be  composed  of  a  few  gray  stone  build- 
ings, and  several  high  red  stacks.  After  passing 
over  some  waste  land  and  a  little  bnmk  we  came 
to  the  office,  where  we  inquired  whether  we  had 
better  have  a  guide  to  show  us  around,  or  go  by 
ourselves.  A  young  gentleman  who  belonged  to 
the  establishment  offered  to  go  with  us.  He  was 
very  kind,  explaining  everything,  and  was  never 
tired  of  answering  questions. 

Th«y  cast  twice  a  diiy  ;  there  are  two  furnaces, 
one  used  for  the  casting  in  the  morning,  and  the 
other  iu  the  afternoon.  We  began  our  tour  of  in- 
spection by  visiting  one  of  the  furnaces.  Of  course 
we  found  it  quite  warm  near  it.  When  they  wished 
to  see  whether  the  fire  was  burning  all  right,  they 
used  to  have  to  open  large  doors,  but  now  there 
are  pipes  with  holes  and  some  kind  of  glass  iu 
them  that  they  can  look  into  and  see  the  fire.  The 
gas  that  is  thrown  off  by  the  burning  of  the  coke 
and  ore  is  returned  to  the  furnace  and  used  as 
fuel,  hence  there  is  a  great  saving  of  coke. 

Next  we  went  to  see  the  "roasters."  The  ore 
has  to  be  roasted  before  it  is  put  Into  the  furnace, 
to  get  as  much  sulphur  out  of  it  as  possible.  After 
it  comes  out  of  a  "  roaster,"  instead  of  it  being  of 
a  gray  color,  most  of  it  has  a  reddish  tint.  After 
being  roasted  and  before  being  put  into  the  fur. 
nace  limestone  is  added.  There  are  over  twenty 
roasters.  The  next  place  we  visited  was  callei 
"tunnel  head"— in  plain  language,  the  top  of  fur- 


nace number  two.  We  went  up  in  an  open  eleva- 
tor that  quite  took  one's  breath  away.  At  the  top 
of  the  furnace  is  the  "  bell  and  hopper,"  which  is  a 
circular  opening  with  a  bell-shaped  cover  which 
keeps  iu  the  gas.  In  the  opening  the  ore  and  coke 
are  put  in,  then  the  bell  is  let  down,  and  the  fuel 
and  ore  is  dropped  into  the  furnace. 

After  we  came  down  from  the  tunnel  heml  it 
was  suggested  that  we  should  visit  the  "drawing- 
room."  I  wondered  whether  a  furnace's  drawing- 
room  was  like  one  in  a  private  house,  but  when  we 
arrived  there  I  found  that  it  was  quite  different. 
Instead  of  tables  and  chairs  it  contained  four  en- 
gines, each  having  two  fly-wheels  about  twenty- 
two  feet  in  diameter.  These  engines  made  the 
draught  to  "draw"  the  fires,  so  the  place  they 
were  in  was  called  the  drawing-room. 

To  see  the  "casting"  we  had  some  time  to  wait 
after  we  had  completed  our  tour,  baving  been  al- 
most everywhere,  except  on  top  of  the  roasters. 
A  railroad  comes  right  to  the  furnace,  and  while 
we  were  waiting  a  train  of  eight  cars  containing 
coke  passed  by. 

At  last  it  was  almost  ten  o'clock,  so  we  drew 
near  the  build>ing  where  they  were  to  cast.  We 
could  hear  and  see  them  opening  the  furnace-door 
to  let  out  the  ore  and  cinders.  A  locomotive  and 
several  "  cinder-tubs,"  the  tubs  looking  like  large 
iron  pots,  were  on  a  track  beside  the  building,  the 
front  tub  being  under  a  trough  where  the  cinders 
came  out.  When  one  tub  was  full,  a  man  would 
hold  the  cinders  back,  and  the  engine  would  go 
forward  until  another  tub  was  under  the  trough 

Afterward  the  contents  of  the  tubs  were  dumped 
ou  the  bank  of  the  stream  near  the  furnace.  The 
iron  and  the  cinders  can  easily  be  separated,  as  the 
iron  is  heavier  and  goes  to  the  bottom. 

The  moulds  for  the  iron  are  made  ou  the  floor  of 
the  building  with  sand.  The  pig-iron  is  made  in 
small  troughs.  In  order  to  keep  the  metal  flowing 
in  the  large  troughs,  men  have  to  loosen  it  con- 
stantly with  long  poles.  The  iron  as  it  comes  from 
the  furnace  looks  like  melted  gold. 

FLU-SHIM.  GRANT  KNiUFF. 

*  *  * 

Questions  anO  answers. 

Frank  Dubois:  The  ROUND  TABLE  is  to  publish, 
about  August  15th,  a  handy  book  which  will  con- 
tain just  the  information  you  ask  for.  Besides 
memorandum  pages.it  will  contain  lists  of  words 
often  misspelled,  cost  of  college  courses,  values  of 
the  rare  stamps,  a  calendar,  and  about  1000  other 
facts  worth  knowing.  It  will  be  sent  free  to  all 
who  ask  for  it.  Indeed,  copies  will  be  sent  for  all 
members  of  a  Chapter,  a  class,  a  school.  The  book 
is  yyt  by  4  inches,  and  has  thirty-six  pages. 

Elizabeth  A.  Hyde,  1458  Euclid  Place,  N.  W.  Wash- 
ington, D.  C.,  desires  to  hear  from  Washington 
[Members.  Will  you  send  her  your  name  and  ad- 
dress? Her  purpose  is  to  arrange  an  entertain- 
ment iu  aid  of  the  School  Fund. 


THE  SECOND  SUMMER, 

iniiny  mothers  believe,  is  the  most  precarious  in  a 
child's  life  ;  generally  it  maybe  true,  but  you  will  find 
that  mothers  and  physicians  familiar  with  the  value  of 
the  Gail  Bordeu  Eagle  Brand  Condensed  Milk  do  not 
so  regard  it. — [Adv.] 


ADVERTISEMENTS. 


Walter  Baker  i  Go.  Limited, 

The  Largest  Manufacturer,  of 

PURE,  HIGH  GRADE 

COCOAS  ^  CHOCOLATES 

On  thil  Continent,  have  receiv.d 

HIGHEST  AWARDS 

from  the  great 

Industrial  and  Food 

EXPOSITIONS 
IN  EUROPTANDJMERICA. 

-Caution :    n?anyieTrniuftiunt 

of  the    labels  and   wrapper!  on   our 

ithat     our     place     of    manufacture, 
namely.  Dorehenter,   3L  :»»•. 

it  printed  on  each  package. 


SOLD  BY  GROCERS  EVERYWHERE. 


WALTER  BAKER  &  GO.  LTD.  DORCHESTER,  MASS. 


C\J  Co 

Ladies'     Fine    Cheviot 
and  Chambray 

SHIRT  WAISTS 


$1.00  and  $1.50  each; 

Reduced  from  $2.75. 


u 

J 


91  & 


NEW  YORK. 


Stamps, 


UNEQUALLED 

COLUMBIA 
BICYCLE 


100  all  dif.  Venezuela,  Costa  Rica,  etc.,  only 
IQc, ;  200  all  dif.  Hay  ti, Hawaii, etc., on  lySOc, 
Ag'LSwautedatMpercf  com.  I,i-i  KKKE! 
C.A.Stegniui  u,2722  EadsAv.,St.Loais,Mo. 

I  ROO  line  mixed  Victoria,  Cape  of  G. 
1  !   K.,Iiidta.  Japan,  etc.,  with  fine  Stamp 
"ly     JO*-.       N  <-•><••   Bo-p,    riiLC.li>-!     !>,•«•- 
._    .janlfd  &t  f.O%  commission.     STANDARD 
f  STAMP  Co..  4  XL  IH.K..II  Place.  St.  Louis,  Mo.    Old 
U.  S.  and  Confederate  Stamps  bouyht. 

m?m  pERioDicE 

Her  Vear: 

HARPER'S  MAOAZINK I'oMaiit  Fi .'. ,  1 1  00 

HARPER'S  WEElvLY 

HARPER'S   HA/.AH 

HARPER'S  ROl'ND  TABLE 

r,,      PoatTiuUtera  tlAliaftl    r *i<^rri;>- 

pttonn  *'»'  <<ir,',-t  f"  ft>    ' 

,  "f  llrnft. 


BAUl'EK  &  BROTHERS.  Franklin  Squarr.  X.  V, 


829 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Mr.  Kirk  Munroe  to  the  Round  Table  Order. 


My  Dear  Fetlew-membera  of  the  Round  Table: 

1  have  just  returued  from  a  visit  that  I  wish  every 
one  of  yon  might  have  mnde  with  me.  It  was  to  the 
G.IOI.  Wu.i,  FAUM  away  down  in  the  State  of  Maine. 
Tliere  I  spent  two  happy  days,  and  from  there  I  have 
come  nway  tilled  with  enthusiasm  for  the  most 
splendid  charity  of  which  I  have  any  knowledge.  If 
you  could  only  see  what  I  have  seen,  and  hear  what  I 
have  heard,  that  manual  training-school  that  we  are 
proposing  to  build  for  the  Good  Will  boys  some  time 
would  long  since  have  been  built  and  iu  active  oper- 
ation. As  you  can't  see  it,  and  probably  know  just 
as  little  about  it  as  I  did  before  going  there,  which 
was  practically  nothing  at  all,  I  am  going  to  try  and 
give  you  a  slight  idea  of  what  the  GOOD  WILL  FARM 
is,  and  what  it  is  doing. 

The  man  who  conceived  the  idea  of  GOOD  WILL 
FARM,  and  has  made  it  his  life-work,  is  the  Rev.  G. 
W.  Hinckley,  a  splendid,  manly,  whole-souled  Chris- 
tian, who  when  he  was  a  boy  had  as  a  playmate 
the  son  of  a  very  poor  widow.  This  woman  went 
a\v;iy  from  home  every  day  to  work  after  giving  her 
boy  his  breakfast.  Then  she  locked  the  house,  and 
left  the  boy  to  shift  for  himself  outside  until  she  came 
home  at  night  and  prepared  the  second  and  only  oth- 
er meal  of  the  day.  Between  those  two  meals  the 
boy  used  to  get  awfully  hungry,  and  one  day  he  was 
caught  with  his  hand  in  a  workman's  dinner  pail. 
For  this  he  was  sent  to  a  State  reform  school,  from 
which  he  emerged  three  years  later  a  thorough-going 
young  criminal,  ruined  tor  life  iu  body  and  mind. 
Distressed  at  the  sad  fate  of  his  young  playmate,  Mr. 
Hinckiey  then  and  there  declared  his  intention  of  de- 
voting all  the  energies  of  his  life  to  the  saving  of  des- 
titute boys  from  reform  schools.  By  years  of  hard 
work  he  laid  np  $2000,  with  which,  less  than  six  years 
ago,  he  purchased  a  farm  of  240  acres  on  the  upper 
Kennebec  River  in  Maine,  about  midway  between  the 
cities  of  Waterville  and  Skowhegau.  Here,  in  an 
old  farm-house,  -he  began  his  work  with  three  boys. 
He  had  no  source  of  income,  and  the  work  is  carried 
on  entirely  by  voluntary  subscriptions.  These  come 
from  everywhere,  and  generally  from  straugers,  of 
whom  Mr.  Hinckley  has  had  no  previous  knowledge. 

To-day  Goon  WILL  FARM  owns,  besides  the  original 
farm-house,  which  lias  been  wholly  rebuilt,  five  hand- 
some cottages,  each  in  charge  of  a  matron,  and  in 
each  of  which  fifteen  boys  between  eight  and  sixteen 
years  of  age  find  a  comfortable,  happy  home.  There 
are  now  seventy -six  boys,  most  of  them  orphans, 
many  without  a  relative  in  the  world,  and  nearly  all 
of  them  of  American  parentage,  living,  working,  and 
growing  up  to  a  useful  manhood  amid  the  splendid  in- 
fluences of  this  farm.  Each  of  the  cottages  in,  which 
these  boys  live  has  cost  $3000,  and  has  been  present- 
ed as  a  free  gift  to  the  farm  either  by  individuals  or 
by  societies,  such  as  the  Christian  Endeavor  Society 
of  Maine,  who  presented  the  one  that  is  named  after 
it,  and  iu  which  I  was  lodged. 

Beside  these  cottages  there  is  a  splendid  brick 
school  building  that  cost  S20,000,  which  was  present- 
ed by  two  Maiue  ladies  as  a  memorial  to  their  brother. 

The  farm  needs  more  cottages,  many  more  of  them, 
for  Mr.  Hinckley  has  been  obliged  to  refuse  nearly 
700  applications  for  admission  to  GOOD  WILL  this 
year  for  lack  of  accommodations.  It  also  needs  a 
manual  training-school,  and  needs  it  very  much  in- 
deed. We,  the  Kuights  and  Ladies  of  the  Round  Ta- 
ble, promised,  more  than  two  years  ago,  to  build  that 
school  for  them;  but  we  haven't  done  it  yet,  and 
when  visitors  to  the  farm  ask  to  be  shown  the  Round 
Table  building  they  are  led  to  a  most  beautiful  site, 
on  which  rest  two  great  piles  of  stone,  hauled  there 
for  the  foundations.  They  are  told  that  here  is  where 
the  school  will  stand  whenever  the  young  Knights 
and  Ladies  get  ready  to  build  it ;  and  Mr.  Hinckley 
always  adds,  "They  are  certain  to  do  it,  for  they  have 
promised,  and  I  have  never  yet  been  disappointed  iu 
any  promise  mnde  iu  connection  with  this  work." 

It  made  me  feel  awfully  ashamed  to  think  that  we 
made  that  promise  two  years  ago  and  had  not  fulfilled 
it  yet.  How  do  you  feel  aboui  it  ? 

All  the  work  of  the  farm  is  done  by  the  boys  them- 
selves. They  chop  wood,  and  fetch  water,  and  plough, 
and  make  liny,  and  bake  all  the. bread,  and  wait  on 
table,  and  sweep,  and  do  a  thousand  other  things,  be- 
sides having  regular  study  hours  aud  drills.  In  addi- 
tion to  all  this  they  somehow  Mud  time  to  attend  to 
their  own  little  private  gardens — the  produce  of  which, 


is  bought  by  the  Farm  at  the  regular  market  price- 
to  pl.iy  ball,  go  in  swimming,  build  "Cubbies"  or 
cubby  houses  down  by  the  river  out  of  hits  of  refuse 
lumber,  aud  do  almost  everything  else  that  hearty, 
happy  boys  rind  to  do  iu  the  country. 

The  most  striking  features  of  the  farm  are  the  utter 
absence  of  profanity  or  even  vulgar  language,  for  I 
did  not  hear  a  word  while  there  that  could  not  have 
been  uttered  with  perfect  propriety  in  a  Sunday- 
school  ;  the  prompt  obedience  to  orders;  the  happy, 
homelike  air  pervading  the  whole  farm,  and  Mr. 
Hinckley's  infinite  patience  in  dealing  with  the  boys. 
He  is  always  ready  to  listen  to  them,  always  ready  to 
advise  them,  and  is  always  interested  in  their  most 
trivial  affairs.  As  he  says,  "If  I  encourage  them  to 
come  to  me  freely  with  their  little  perplexities,  they 
will  come  to  me  for  advice  concerning  their  greater 
affairs  later  on." 

One  boy  is  kept  at  the  farm  by  an  Odd  Fellows 
Association,  of  which  his  father  was  a  member,  and 
who  have  pledged  $100  per  year  for  his  support  until 
he  is  fitted  to  care  for  himself.  The  head  waiter  of 
the  dining-room,  a  merry-faced,  curly-headed,  sixteen- 
year-old  chap,  is  to  be  sent  through  Bowdoin  by  this 
year's  graduating  class  of  that  college;  while  this 
year's  class  of  Colby  has  promised  to  send  another 
Good  Will  boy  through  that  university. 

Many  of  the  boys  don't  want  to  go  to  college,  but  are 
very  anxious  to  learn  trades.  The  present  facilities 
for  teaching  them  are  two  carpenter  benches  and  a 
few  tools,  all  huddled  iuto  one  little  room  in  the  <ild 
farm-house.  Now  dou't  you  think  this  is  a  splendid 
charity,  and  that  those  boys  need  that  manual  train- 
ing-school, aud  that  it  is  a  fine  thing  for  us  to  work 
for?  I  do;  though  I  must  confess  that  I  wasn't  very 
greatly  interested  before  I  went  there.  But  that  was 
because  I  didn't  know  about  it,  and  the  reason  the 
school  building  that  we  promised  isu't  occupying  the 
lovely  site  set  apart  for  it  is  because  yon  haven't 
really  known  about  it.  But  now  you  know  about,  it, 
for  I  have  been  there  and  have  told  you  something  of 
what  I  saw ;  and  I  feel  certain  that  you  will  believe 
that  all  I  have  said  is  true.  So  now  we  will  go  to 
work  and  build  that  school,  won't  we  ?  Do  you  know 
that  even  five  cents  apiece  from  each  Knight  and  Lady 
of  the  Round  Table  would  do  it  ?  Who  will  follow  me 
if  I  head  a— let  me  say,  ten-cent  subscription  list  for 
the  GOOD  WILL  FARM  INDUSTRIAL  SOIIOOL?  I  am  sure 
every  member  of  all  the  "  K.  M."  chapters  will,  and  I 
am  almost  certain  that  every  member  of  our  splendid 
order  of  modern  chivalry  will.  At  any  rate,  I  am  going 
to  try  it,  aud  shall  enclose  a  dime  iu  this  very  letter 
to  Messrs.  Harper  »fc  Bros.  Next  summer  I  want  to 
go  agaiu  to  GOOD  WILL  FARM  ;  but  I  shall  not  unless 
that  school  building  is  ready  for  dedication.  In  the 
mean  time,  I  lemaiu  to  all  the  Kuights  and  Ladies  of 
the  Round  Table,  their  loving  friend  aud  fellow-mem- 
ber, 

Kutii  MUNKOB. 


The  "Do- Without"  Society. 

.Should  one  ask  which  has  been  the  most  heroic 
age  of  the  world  we  believe  that  the  right  an- 
swer would  be  "  the  nineteenth  century."  In  past 
centuries  a  few  were  imbued  with  the  spirit  of 
self-sacrifice.  To-day  this  spirit  is  manifest  in 
nearly  every  life.  Everybody  seems  to  be  trying 
to  help  somebody  else  — to  lift  those  just  below 
them  to  a  higher  plane  of  living  aud  of  thinking. 
It  is  said  that  the  oldest  book  in  existence  is  one 
devoted  to  a  harangue  on  the  evils  of  the  time, 
and  a  longing  for  the  good  old  times.  Doubtless 
the  last  book  that  will  ever  be  written  will  be  in 
the  same  vein.  But  for  all  that  the  world  is  grow- 
ing better. 

During  the  last  dozen  years  there  have  been 
many  efforts  made  to  urge  people  to  indulge  in 
certain  little  self-sacrifices  of  their  own  choosing 
in  order  to  save  money  for  charity.  Special  soci- 
eties have  been  formed  with  this  end  in  view. 
Large  societies  have  inaugurated  annual  self-de- 
nial weeks,  and  have  sent  out  envelopes  in  which 
the  self-denial  money  was  placed.  The  returns 
from  the  small  collections  have  massed  enormous 
sums. 

A  story  issued  iu  the  interest  of  this  feature  of 
charity  tells  how  a  little  girl,  because  of  her  pov- 
erty, had  nothing  to  give  up  for  the  sake  of  another, 

830 


so  she  decided  to  sell  her  pet  dog,  that  she  might 
have  an  offering.  The  ways  in  which  "  do-without 
money  "is  obtained  are  many.  Some  go  without 
certain  articles  of  food.  Others  walk  instead  of 
ride  in  the  street  cars.  Entertainments  and  ex- 
cursions are  given  up  and  their  cost  duly  noted. 

*  *  * 
A  Suggestion  and  a  Promise. 

P.  E.  Hawkins  writing  from  Taunton,  Mass.,  tells 
how  to  cure  skins— information  we  have  printed 
from  other  sources,  but  we  had  not  done  so  when 
he  wrote— and  adds: 

"  A  pretty  mat  for  a  lamp  or  ash-receiver  can  be 
made  by  cutting  the  skin  its  entire  length  on  the 
lower  side  of  the  animal.  Then  cut  felt  or  cloth 
after  the  shape  of  the  skin  but  larger,  and  sew  the 
skiu  to  it.  The  mat  will  be  prettier  if  the  felt  or 
cloth  be  scalloped  or  'pinked.'  Any  bright  color 
will  do.  May  write  again  describing  the  method 
of  catching  herring  iu  the  Taunton  River,  and  the 
way  the  fish  get  above  the  East  Taunton  darn." 

Let  us  have  the  herring  morsel.    Thanks. 


The  Fun  of  the  Amateur  Editor. 

In  answer  to  your  request  in  your  issue  of  June 
llth,  I  write  to  tell  you  that  I  do  not  hire  my  paper 
printed  as  the  other  correspondent  does.  The 
name  of  my  paper  is  Our  Young  People,  and  the 
printing  on  each  of  its  four  pages  measures  five  by 
six.  slightly  larger  than  the  Amateur  Collector.  Our 
Young  People  is  eleven  by  eight  when  open.  As  we 
print  it  ourselves  it  does  not  cost  much  actual 
nionry.  but  it  does  cost  quite  a  good  deal  of  work. 

Our  press  has  a  five  by  eight  chase—  that  is,  it 
can  print  about  five  by  seven.  Our  outfit  cost  six- 
ty dollars  in  the  first  place  ;  but  this  once  bought, 
it  does  not  cost  much  money  to  keep  the  paper 
running.  At  first  it  may  be  harder  work  to  print 
one's  own  paper  than  to  hire  it  printed,  but  in  the 
course  of  a  few  months  one  gets  used  to  the  work, 
and  it  is  easy  to  get  out  an  edition.  You  save  the 
money  you  would  have  had  to  pay  the  printer  if 
you  hired  it  done.  But  of  course  there  are  many 
difficulties  where  one  prints  his  own  paper. 

I  find  that  I  am  much  hampered  for  type.  Al- 
though there  is  plenty  of  body  type,  I  do  not  have 
.-in.  ugh  varieties  to  print  advertisements,  small 
Land-bills,  etc.,  very  well.  Many  a  time  I  have 
spilled,  or  "  pied  "  the  printers  say,  something  after 
I  have  had  it  all  set  up.  But  nowadays  this  does 
not  happen  as  often  as  it  used  to.  These  are  sam- 
ples of  our  difficulties,  but  I  have  said  nothing 
about  the  pleasures  aud  fun  which  far  outnumber 
the  difficulties.  So  I  am  not  sorry  for  having  tried 
to  become  an  editor  in  a  small  way.  I  would  be 
glad  to  exchange  Our  Young  People  with  other  ama- 
teur papers,  and  to  send  a  sample  copy  to  any  one 
who  wants  it.  CLEMENT  F.  ROBINSON, 

BEUNSWICK,  Ms.  Editor  of  Our  Young  People. 

Sir  Clement  wants  to  belong  to  the  New  England 
Amateur  Press  Association.  Will  the  secretary  of 
that  association  kindly  send  him  particulars? 


Childish  Wisdom. 

A  boy  of  three  was  in  the  garden.  Going  up  to 
a  rose-bush  he  exclaimed,  "Oh,  grandma,  iliese 
flowers  have  teeth  !"  L.  L  V. 

NEW  HAVIN. 


<.<><*!»     WILL,      »llll 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 
INDUSTRIAL    SCHOOL    FUND 


Amount,  $. 


•ntributfd,  net  because  it  is  asked  fur,  Irut  titcuti 
I  want  to  give  it. 


If  you  use  this  Good  Will  Mite,  simply  pin  it  to  your  letter, 
in  order  that  it  may  be  detached  for  tilinir.  If  the"  amount  is 
L'tven  hy  more  than  one  contributor.  .iiM  M  ml.-  l<.r  lljeir  names, 
but  attach  tbe  added  sbeet  firmly  to  tlie  Mite,  that  it  iniiy  not 
become  detached  and  lost.  Include  a  given  name  ill  each 'case, 
and  write  plainly,  to  avoid  errors  on  the  Honor  Roll. 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TAJ5LE 


More  About  Von   Biilow. 

Von  Bfllow  had  a  continual  headache,  and  that 
was  sufficient  excuse  for  liis  irritability.  After  his 
death,  in  accordance  with  his  wishes,  an  autopsy 
was  made,  and  it  was  found  that,  a  displaced  bone 
pressed  against  his  brain,  and  this  was  the  cause 
nf  his  trouble.  But  Von  Bulow  as  a  conductor 
u:lx  supremely  great.  His  stronghold  was  as  a 
Beethoven  conductor,  and  he  considered  Ilfi'thci- 
ven  the  greatest  composer.  He  said  that  the  Nint  h 
Symphony  could  not  be  appreciated  in  one  hear- 
ing, so  he  played  it  twice  at  a  certain  concert. 
Needless  to  say  the  hall  was  almost  empty  during 
the  repetition. 

He  did  a  similar  thing  once  at  another  time  with 
a  composition  of  Brahms.  His  great  mentality 
made  him  an  ardent  admirer  of  Brahms;  and  on 
this  occasion  the  people  were  not  all  enthusiastic, 
upon  which  Von  Bulow  turned  to  the  audience  and 
said,  sharply,  "  Whatl  you  do  not  like  it?  I  shall 
make  you  like  it  I"  And  he  immediately  had  the 
whole  piece  repeated,  to  the  dismay  of  the  audi- 
ence. After  that  lesson  the  people  applauded 
loudly  whenever  a  Brahms  piece  was  played.  I 
winder  if  Dr.  Holmes  would  not  have  classed  Von 
Bulow  among  the  men  who  have  "squinting 
brains, "as  he  calls  them? 

Von  Biilow  could  not  endure  having  any  one 
pivi-ent  at  his  rehearsals,  though  it  is  said  that  peo- 
pli-  \\.mld  be  willing  to  risk  a  good  deal  for  that 
enjoyment.  A  very  good  story  is  told  on  this  sub- 
ject about  a  few  ladies  who  once  gained  access  to 
the  hall  just  before  the  rehearsal  was  to  begin. 
Vou  Biilow  saw  them,  of  course— for  he  wanted  to 
see  everything  that  was  to  be  seen. and  also  wh:it. 
was  not  to  be  seen— and  he  determined  to  get  them 
away  without  speaking  to  them.  So  he  sad  I  to 
the  orchestra,  "  We  will  commence  to-day  by  prac- 
tising the  bassoons."  Thirty-two  burs  rest  to  be- 
gin with,  during  which  Von  Bulow  beat  time  un- 
flinchingly— then  a  snort  here,  and  a  snort  there, 
for  a  little  while — then  sixty-four  bars  rest — then  a 
repeat — but  the  would-be  auditors  of  the  rehearsal 
had  made  their  exit.  1 

At  a  certain  concert  the  audience  was  very  en- 
thusiastic over  a  Meyerbeer  March,  I  think  it  was, 
which  his  orchestra  had  just  played,  and  which 
Von  liaison,  director  for  the  opera,  had  also  re- 
cently played.  Seeing  the  immense  excitement, 
he  turned  and  said.  "No  wonder  you  like  it  after 
hearing  it  at  the  circus  which  Von  Halson  runs." 
Some  time  after  came  the  memorial  concert  for 
Vou  Halson.  The  conductor,  fearing  that  there 
might  be  some  trouble,  said  he  would  not  have 
Von  Biilow  in  the  house.  So  he  gave  all  the  ushers 
portraits  of  Von  Bulow,  and  told  them  to  turn  him 
out  of  the  hall.  It  was  done;  but  Von  Biilow 
knew  well  his  own  favoritism,  and  the  next  day 
took  a  clever  revenge,  which  rather  turned  the 
tables.  He  was  to  play  the  piano  at  a  concert,  and 
f.»r  i  ine  of  his  selections  he  chose  a  popular  air  of 
Mozart,  the  words  of  which  happened  to  fit  the  oc- 
casion, and  played  variations  to  it.  The  house  of 
course  saw  the  joke,  and  there  was  an  immense 
round  of  laughter  and  applause. 

Von  Biilow  was  once  playing  an  accompaniment 
for  a  certain  singer.  She  had  sung  but  a  few 
phrases,  when  Von  Bulow's  admiration  and  emo- 
tion were  excited  to  their  fullest  extent ;  and  he 
was  then  prompted  to  do  a  strange  thing.  Rising 
from  his  seat,  he  pushed  the  stool  aside,  and  kneel- 
ing down  before  the  instrument,  he  finished  the  ac- 
companiment in  that  position,  saying  that,  he  could 
not  accompany  such  a  voice  except  on  his  knees. 

Do  we  not  love  Vou  Biilow  the  better  for  this? 
MABIE  THEUESE  BERQE. 

NEW  YORK  CITY. 


Did  You  Find  that  Verse  ? 

Did  you  find  the  verse  by  Alice  Cary  in  that  travel 
story  by  Miss  Denton?    Here  it  is; 

"True  worth  is  in  being,  not  seeming, 

In  doing  each  day  that  goes  by 
Some  little  good,  not  in  dreaming 

Of  great  things  to  do  by-and-by." 
The  capitals  in  the  story,  arranged  in  regular 
order,  spell  it. 


IVORY  5  CAP 


PURE 


Keep  the  refrigerator  clean.  Use  hot  water,  a  cake  of  Ivory  Soap 
(it  leaves  no  odor)  and  a  clean  scrubbing  brush;  scrub  the  sides, 
corners,  racks,  outlet  pipe  and  drip  cup;  rinse  with  cold  water  and 
wipe  dry. 


THE  PROCTER  &  GAMBLE  Co..  OIN'TI. 


OFFICIAL  ANNOUNCEMENT  ofth°  JwaTd 

CILLOTT'S  PENS  tit  the  CHICAGO  EXPOSITION. 
*AtVAKI>:  "For excellence  of  steel  used  in  their 
manufacture,  it  being  fine  grained  and  elastic  ;  super- 
ior workmanship,  especially  shown  by  the  careful 
grinding  whlcb  leaves  the  pens  free  from  defects.  The 
tempering  is  excellent  anil  the  action  of  thf  finished 
pens  perfect."  (Signed)  FRANZ  VOGT, 

iH.  I.  KIMBALL,  IndividualJudae, 

approved:-^        Pres't  Departmental  Committee. 
(JOHN  BOYD  THACHER, 

Chairman  Exec,  Com.  on  Atcards. 


SEND  for  Catalogue  of 
ill"  Musical  Iiistru- 
nifiit  V"ii  think  of  buying. 
Violins  r«-i»air«'<l  l'\  tin- 
t'l-i'iMoiKi  Systt-m.  <•.  STiHiY. 
2G  <  Vntnil  St..  Huston.  Mass. 


EARN  A  TRICYCLE! 
Wewiah  to  introduce  onr 

'l'.'a-.  S|.|r,  -..  ui.  i   |-..lkllltf 

Pmvilri.     St.- II  ;aj  lljs.and 
we  will  give  you  a  Fairy 
Tricycle  ;  sell  -j5  II.-.  for 
aSoildSil 
Chain  ;  f-Hh-  t 
Watchauilt  bain;751bs. 
for  a  Bicycle  ;    m  !!>-- 
for   u    Beautiful     • 
Ring.     Express  pr.-it:nii 
It  i';tsh  i^  ^fn t  lor  KOI  «ls. 
Write   tni    caUi 
r  >heet. 

w.  G.  BAKER, 

SPRINGFIELD,  MASS. 


WONT)ER  CABI!fET  FREE. »""imt  UDk 

P>»«l?,    I>«U'«    B..IU*.   I'oScl   C»mcr».  UU.I 
W[r.-  I'unlc,   Spook  Photos.  Book   Of  Sleictitof 
Hand,  Total  Value  GOc.  Scot  free  with  imcj*r."> 
cftUloeuouf  KKM.I  B»rp"n«fof  I'T   fi.rro-Ucc. 
[NG]  RS01  L&BRO  r  >    Y 


Harper's  Young  People  Series 

Illustrated.     Post  8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1   25  each: 


The   Mystery   of  Abel   Forefinger.      By 

WILLIAM  DKYSDALE. 
Raftmates. — Canoemates. — Campmates. 

By  KIRK  MUNROE. 
Young  Lucretia,  and  Other  Stories.     By 

MARY  E.  WII.KINS. 

A  Boy's  Town.     By  W.  D.  HOWELLS. 
Diego  Piiizou.     By  J.  R.  CORYELL. 


The  Moon   Prince,  and  Other  Nabobs. 

By  R.  K,  Mr.NKrniui  K. 

The  Midnight  Warning,  and  Other  Sto- 
ries.     By  E.  II.  II<  'i     i  . 

Phil  and  the  Baby,  and  False  Witness. 

By   I.i-i'Y  C.    LlLLIE. 
Flying    Hill   Farm.  —  The    Mate    of   the 

"Mary  Anne."     By  SMTHIE  S\\i  i  i. 


Illustrated.     Square    16mo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1   00  each: 


Wakulla.  —  The    Flamingo   Feather.  - 

Derrick  Sterling.  —  Chrystal,  Jack  & 

Co.,  and    Delta   Bixby.  —  Dorymates. 

By  KIRK  MUNKOE. 
The  Talking   Leaves.— Two    Arrows.— 

The  Red  Mustang.    By  \V.  O.  STODDARD. 
Prince  Lazybones,  and   Other   Stories. 

By  Mrs.  W.  J.  HAYS. 

The  Ice  Queen.     By  ERNEST  INGERSOLI.. 
Uncle    Peter's    Trust.      By    GEOROF.    B. 

PERRY. 
The  Adventures  of  Jimmy  Brown.— The 

Cruise  of  the  Canoe  Club.— The  Cruise 

of  the  "Ghost."— The  Moral   Pirates. 

The  New  Robiusou  Crusoe.    By  \V.  L. 

ALDEN. 


Toby  Tyler.  — Mr.  Stubbs's  Brother.  Tim 
and  Tip.— Left  Behind. — Raising  the 
"Pearl. "—Silent  Pete.  By  J  \MI  -  OTIS. 

The  Four  Macm'cols.    l!> 

The  Lost  City. — Into  Unknown  Seas. 
|:\  1 1  u'ln  KEK. 

The  Story  of  Music  and  Musicians. — Jo's 
Opportunity. — Rolf  House. — Mildred's 
Bargain,  and  Other  Stories. — Nan. — 
The  Colonel's  Money.  —The  Household 
of  Glen  Holly.  I'y  lr<  \  C.  I.II.L.IE. 

Who    Was    Paul    Grayson  ?       !'•> 
II  \l.l  .  RTON. 

Captain  Polly.     I'.y  Snrim   SWETT. 
Strange  Stories  from  History.    I 

> 


Published  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  New  York 

The  above  works  are  for  sa 

fn-j\  • 


831 


I 


IV 


v 


A    SWIMMING    LESSON. 


WISE  CHILD. 

"PAPA, I  know  why  Napoleon  needed  to  sleep  only  four 
hours  every  night." 
"Why,  my  soiif" 
"  Because  he  took  a  Xap  everywhere  he  went." 


A  DISTRICT  school  teacher  in  New  Hampshire  has  had 
great  difficulty  in  explaining  adverbs  to  a  class  of  children. 
After  toiling  faithfully  with  them,  he  said :  "  Bring  in  a  list 
of  adverbs  to-nn>rro\v.  Remember  that  a  great  many  ad- 
verbs ends  in  ly." 

The  next  day  one  boy's  list  began :  Slowly,  fastly,  lily, 
emily ! 

MAMMA  labelled  her  jars  of  sweets, 

"Put  up  by  Mrs.  Kay"; 
Later  it  read  upon  those  meats, 

"Put  down  by  Tommy  Jay." 


A  PUZZLER. 

Mits.  TEECHUM.  "That  small  engine  pounding  away  in 
the  corner, Toby, is  called  a  donkey-engine." 

TOBY.  "  And  yet  the  engineer  says  it  works  with  a  four- 
horse-power.  That's  funny,  isn't  it?" 


AT  THE  ZOO. 

BERTIE.  "  You  say  that  is  the  bird  of  freedom,  mamma  f " 
MAMMA.  "  Yes,  Bertie." 
BEKTIE.  "  Then  why  is  it  in  a  cage  ?" 


"  MAMMA,  where  do  eggs  come  from  ?" 
"  Chickens,  my  dear." 

"  Well,  that's  funny.   Papa  says  that  chickens  come  from 
eggs." 


CHARLES  MATHKWS,  the  celebrated  English  comedian, 
was  probably  one  of  the  best  mimics  the  world  ever  pro- 
duced. Born  June  28,  1776,  after  a  successful  career  he 
died  011  the  same  date,  1835,  fifty-nine  years  later. 

One  of  his  favorite  amusements  was  that  of  mimicking 
children.  One  day  in  Suffolk,  England,  he  walked  up  to  a 
group  of  boys  all  about  eight  years  of  age,  who  were  playing 
marbles,  and  adopting  their  actions  and  tone  of  voice,  he 
asked  permission  to  join  in  the  game.  They  were,  of  course, 
rather  startled  at  this  big  lad,  and  stared  at  him  in  silence. 
However,  everything  he  did  was  so  like  themselves  that  a 
little  'fellow  in  the  party  cried  out,  "  I  say,  fellows,  what's 
the  harm;  let  him  play;"  and  then  turning  to  Mathews 
asked  him,  "  Have  you  got  auy  marbles?" 

"  No,"  said  Mathews,  "  but  I've  got  a  penny." 

"  Well,  then,  you  can  buy  some  of  ours,"  which  he  did, 
and  then  knuckled  down  and  proceeded  to  play. 

The  boys  by  this  time  had  ceased  to  regard  him  as  other 
than  one  of  themselves,  never  entertaining  the  slightest  sus- 
picion that  it  was  the  celebrated  comedian  they  had  among 
them. 

In  a  short  time  he  squabbled  with  the  hoys,  and  the  talk 
was  something  like  the  following: 

"  You,  Bill  Atkins  !     I  say  you've  no  right  to  that." 

"  I  have,"  said  Bill. 

"I  say  you  haven't!" 

"  I  say  I  have." 

"Ah!  you  cheat!     I  won't  play  with  you  uo  more." 

This  shortly  led  to  a  quarrel,  and  taking  off  his  coat 
Mathews  offered  to  fight  any  of  the  boys.  One  of  the  little 
fellows  immediately  threw  his  coat  and  hat  on  the  ground, 
and  squaring  up  to  the  big  fellow,  urged  him  to  come  on. 
Mathews  got  out  of  the  row  by  giving  his  adversary  the 
marbles  he  had  won,  thus  restoring  good  humor,  aud  he  left 
the  scene,  delighted  with  the  amusement  he  had  received 
from  it,  although  retaining  his  mimicry  to  the  end  by  call- 
iug  out  as  he  quitted  them,  '•  I  ninst  go  to  my  ma." 


832 


=^  '=^^=— ; r^^L 

HARPE       __ 

ROUND  TABLE 


Copyright,  1895,  by  HABPRB  4  BEOTBIES.     All  Rlgbla  Reserve.!. 


PUBLISHED    WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI. — NO.  825. 


NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY.  AUGUST  20,  1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO    DOLLARS   A    YB4R. 


BRADDY'S     BROTHER. 


BY  JULIANA   CONOVER. 


T  was  the  ending  of  the  ninth  inn- 
ing; the  score  stood  H  to  7  in 
Princeton's  favor,  lint  Harvard  had 
only  one  man  out,  and  the  ININC^ 
were  full. 

Was  it  any  wonder  that  the 
Freshmen  couldn't  keep  their 
seats,  and  that  the  very  air  seemed 
to  hold  its  lu-ealli  while  liradtield, 
'98,  twisted  the  Imll  .' 

lu  the  centre  of  the  grand  stand. 

where  the  orauge  and  black  was  thickest,  but  Hie  enthu- 
siasm more  controlled,  stood  .a  boy,  his  whole  body  quiver- 
lug  with  nervous  excitement,  liis  eyes  glued — as  were  all 
others — to  the  pitcher's  box. 


"Come  in,  now!  look  out!  lead  off!"  the  Harvard  roach 
\\as  sa\  iny.  as  the,  umpire's  ••  one  strike,  two  balls,  two 
strikes,  three  halls,"  raised  and  da>hetl  ;ii4:nii  ilu  : 
of  Princeton.  Then  came  a  moment  of  horrible  nerve- 
destroying  suspense,  and  then  the  umpire's  ealm  and  .judi- 
cial— "striker  out." 

Above   the   el rs.  which  literally  tore  the  air.  the  shrill 

discordant  noii-  of  the  bo\ 's  \oiee  eoiihl  In'  ueard, yelling 
like  mad  for  Princeton  anil  '!K 

"\Vhoisthat  little  fellow f"  said  a  girl  jusl  behind  him 
to  her  companion.      Tin1  boy  turned   like  a  llasli. 

"I'm   Hradily's  brother."  he  said,  his  chest  still  hc:i\iiig, 
and  his  cheek  gluwin^.       "  I  le's  si  ruck  out  seven  men  !" 

The  girl  smiled,  and  an  upper  classman.  «  ho  \\  as  next  to 
him,  patted  him  on  the  back. 


HARPER'S  'ROUND   TABLE 


"  ll's  ;i  proud  day  for  Bradely's  breithe-r,"  he  said,  "and 
(m';H  and  Princeton,  that  is,  if  Harvard  doesn't — "  For  a 
m  on  i< -lit  ii  hioked  as  if  Harvard  would,  for  the  regular  thud 
e.l'the-  ball  against  the  catcher's  glove  was  interrupted  by 
I  he  ominous  crack  of  the  bat,  and  the  men  on  liases  ran 
for  their  lives  on  the  bare  chance  of  a  hit,  or  possibly  an 
error. 

But,  '9rt  was  not  going  to  let  a  hard-earned  victory  slip 
between  her  lingers  like  that ;  the  short-stop  fielded  the 
swift  grounder  beautifully,  and  the  rim  nor  was  out  at 
first. 

There  was  a  short  cheer,  then  a  long  wordless,  formless 
burst,  of  triumph  swelling  out  from  a  hundred  throats. 
The  crowd  swarmed  on  the  diamond,  the  Freshman  nine 
was  picked  up  and  carried  off  the  field,  "  B ruddy  "  riding  ou 
the  crest  of  a  dangerous-looking  wave  which  was  formed 
by  a  seething,  howling  mob. 

"  Well,"  said  the  Senior,  turning  to  his  small  neighbor, 
'•bow  does  'Braddy's  brother'  feel  now?" 

But  "  Braddy's  brother's  "  feelings  were  too  deep  for  ut- 
terance ;  besides,  he  was  trying  to  remember  just  how  many 
times  the  Princeton  Freshmen  had  won  from  Harvard  in 
the  last  six  years. 

"Hullo,  Dave!  Dave  Hunter!"  called  Bradfield,  as  a 
small  boy  passed  near  the  group  ou  the  front  campus. 
"  Dou't  you  want  to  take  my  brother  off  for  a  little  while, 
and  show  him  the  town  ?" 

Dave  came  up  blushing  with  pleasure  at  having  the  man 
who  bad  just  pitched  a  winning  game  single  him  out. 

"This  is  Dave  Hunter,  a  special  friend  of  mine,  Bing," 
I  '.raddy  continued,  turning  to  the  little  chap  who  was  lying 
stretched  out  on  the  grass  beside  him,  and  who  felt  by  this 
time  as  if  he  owned  the  whole  campus  and  all  the  college 
buildings,  for  hadn't  he  been  in  the  athletic  club-house,  the- 
cage,  and  tin'  'gym.' .'  and  wasn't  lie  actually  going  to  eat 
at  a  Freshman  club,  and  sleep  up  in  a  college  room?  It 
was  the  greatest  day  of  his  life,  his  lirst  taste  of  inde- 
pendence':  and  the  glory  of  being  "Braddy's  brother" 
seemed  lo  him  beyond  compare. 

••I'on't  keep  him  too  long,  Dave."  said  Bradfield,  as  the 
two  boys  stalled  off;  "we'll  have  to  get  through  dinner 
early  if  we.  want  to  hear  the  Seniors  sing." 

Young  Bingham  Bradlield  nodded  and  blushed  and  smiled 
all  the  way  down  to  the  gate,  as  men  in  the  different  groups 
which  they  passed  called  out: 

"There  goes  'Braddy's  brother,' "  or,  "Hullo.  little- 
Brad,"  or,  "  What's  the  matter  with  'lh-  ?"  and  one  who  knew 
him  at  home  sang  out,  "  B-I-N-G-O — B'nujo  '."  It  was  awful- 
ly e\eiiing. 

"They're  going  to  have  a  fire  to-night,"  Dave  said,  as 
ih.\  walked  ii]i  Nassau  Street.  "I  heard  some  of  the 
Freshmen  sa\  thai  they  would  begin  and  collect  the  wood 
as  soon  as  it  was  dark.'' 

••  Where  do  ihcy  get.  it?''  asked  Biiighani. 

"  Oil,, j  nst  take  it,"  Dave  answered,  carelessly.  "They  lake 
fences  and  gates, and  boards  and  barrels,  and,  oh,  anything 
they  can  find.  That  would  be  a  elamK  one,"  pointing  to  a 
half-broken-down  rail  fence  which  divided  an  orchard  from 
a  newly  opened  road. 

"It  wouldn't  let  any  cows  or  horses  out,  you  see.  They 
stole  our  barn  gate  once,  and  the  horses  got  loose  on  the 
front  lawn  and  tore  up  all  the  grass.  We  didn't  mind, 
though,"  with  true  college  spirit,  "for  we'd  beaten  Yale." 

"Yale  Freshmen  .'"eagerly. 

"  No,"  with  great ..scorn  ;  ••  the  'Varsity.  Nobody's  much 
stuck  on  Freshmen  in  Princeton,"  he  continued,  "except, 
of  course,  your  brother.  lie's  great  ;  he'll  make  the  'Varsity 
next  year,  sure.'1 

Bingo's  feelings  were  southed.  Hi  thought  all  the  Fresh- 
men "  great,"  bin  was  satisfied  if  others  only  appreciated 
Braddy. 

They  grew  very  chummy,  the  two  boys,  and  Braddy's 
brother  had  learned  a  great  deal  about  college  life  by  the 
time  he  was  brought  back  to  the  campus. 

It  was  in  the  middle  of  >.  nim-  singing,  when  the  shadows 
from  the  tall  old  elms  were  being  .•swallowed  up  in  the 


gathering  darkness,  and  the  groups  in  white  duck  trousers 
scattered  about  the  grass  were  beginning  to  be  indistiu- 
gm>hablc.t  hat  slim  figures  were  seen  hurrying  mysteriously 
to  and  fro,  and  the  peace  of  the-  evening  was  rudely  broken 
into  by  the  preparations  for  a  "Freshman  tire." 

The  victory  had  already  beeu  celebrated  on  Old  North 
steps,  for  had  not  Bingo  himself  heard  the  Seniors  sing,  as 
an  encore  to  a  favorite  scdo.  these  never-to-be-forgotten 
lines,  composed  for  the  occasion  : 

"The  Freshmen   nine  came   from   Harvard  for  to  show 

How   they  played  the  game  of  ball; 
Bui  found  when  Bradfield  got  in  his  finest  curves 

They  couldn't  hit  the  ball  at  all. 
The  game  stood  in  our  favor  8  to  7 

When  they  came  to  the  bat  once  more. 
Their  Captain  said,  '  'Tis  the  ending  of  the  flth, 

We've  got  to  tie  the  score.' 
C/iorus. — Then  when  he  saw  the  bases  full 
His  sides  with  laughter  shook. 

But  when  lie  heard  the  umpire  shout 
'Two  strikes' — then  'striker  out!' 
He  wore  a   worried  look — 
He  wore  a  worried   look." 

That  brought  even  a  finer  glow  to  the  boy's  cheek  than 
when  the  familiar  "Bingo!  Bingo!  Bingo! — 'way  down  on 
the  Bingo  farm!"  had  drawn  the  attention  of  his  brother's 
friends  to  him,  and  made  him  feel  for  a  moment  as  though 
he  were  a  college  hero. 

The  singing  had  ceased  with  "Old  Nassau,"  and  the 
campus  was  alive  now  with  hnrr\  ing  groups.  The  usual 
night  cries  filled  the  air:  "  Hullo, Billy  Apjdetou  !"  "  Hullo, 
Benny  Butler!"  "  Come  over  here!"  "See  you  later," 
etc.,  and  the  Freshmen  were  shouting  and  rushing  wildly 
about.  "Where's  Porter?"  "  Where's  Tommy  ?'•'  "Where's 
Dad.'"  was  heard  on  all  sides.  "'93  this  way, '9^  this 
way!" 

•-  Mick  to  me,  Bing,"  said  Braddy,  as  he  started  over  to 
his  room  in  Witherspoon;  "stick  close  to  me,  or  you'll 
surely  get  lost." 

"We  haven't  half  enough  wood,  Park,"  said  a  '9*  man. 
coming  up  to  tin'  class  president,  who  was  standing  near 
Bradfield:  "it  won't  make  any  sort  of  a  fire." 

"Can't  yon  get  morel'  We  must  have  a  good  one,"  an- 
swered Porter.  "(Jet  a  fence,  or  a  house — any  old  thing 
will  do.  l'\e  got  to  find  li'nnt  and  Bunny  now,  and  see 
about  a  wagon  for  Hie  nine.  Will  meet  you  later." 

"Come  on.  Bingo, ".said  Braddy. 

He'.  Bradeh  .  ought  not  to  stay  round  and  hear  all  the 
arrangements  for  a  celebration  which  was  to  be  in  his 
honor.  The  nine'  was  supposed  to  keep  modestly  out  of 
the  way.  and  know  nothing  whatever  about  it. 

"  ( 'oine  on,  Bing  !" 

But  Bingo  didn't  "come  ou,"  be  has  business  of  his  own 
to  transact.  The-  Freshman  fire,  his  first  fire,  must  be  a 
success,  and  he  knew  when'  a  good  fence  was.  Quick  as 
thought  he  dropped  behind  his  brother,  and  was  soon  lost 
in  the  crowd,  then  he  made  a  break  for  the  street.  At  the 
corner  he  met  Dave  Hunter. 

"  Hullo !  where  you  going  ?" 

It  was  a  secret,  but  he  told,  and  Dave,  like  "Ducky 
Daddies,"  "  Cocky-locky,"  etc.,  in  the  old  Grimm  fairy-tale 
of  Hcnny-Pcniiy,  said,  "Then  I'll  go  too." 

It  was  a  full  hour  later,  and  the  Freshmen  were  crowding 
about  the  old  cannon,  round  which  a  pile  of  boards,  fence 
rails,  barrels,  etc.,  were  stacked,  all  ready  to  light.  The 
resources  of  the  town  had  beeu  about  exhausted,  and  the 
raiders  were  returned  "bringing  their  sheaves  with  them." 
Homan  candles  and  fire-crackers  still  went  off  at  intei  \al- 
in  different  parts  of  the  campus,  but  they  were  only  a  side- 
issue,  the  fire  was  the  real  business  of  the  evening.  The 
college  was  there  almost  to  a  man,  and  the  cheering  for 
and  by  '98  was  "frequent  and  painful  and  free,"  or  would 
be  to  one  whose  nerves  wen-  be-low  par;  to  a  health\  en- 
thusiast it  was  soul-stirring  and  exhilarating. 

Even  the  upper  classmen  added  their  thundeT  from  well- 
trained  iron  lungs  when  the  old  wagon  containing  the  vic- 
torious nine  came  up,  dragged  by  a  lot  of  wild,  reckless, 


834 


HAEPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


muscular  Freshmen.  Only  true  heroes  could  so  calmly  have 
imperilled  their  lives,  for  these  bold  young  spirits  were 
actually  standing  up  and  singing,  as  i  In-  «  au.ui  lurched  and 
pitched  and  wobbled  over  curbstones,  and  down  into  MJH- 
ters,  and  up  agaiu.  But  fortune  favors  t  he  brave,  and  t  hey 
reached  the  tire  without  a  siugle  accident,  and  were  halted 
at  the  cannon's  mouth  in  the  front  row.  Everything  was 
ready,  yet  there  seemed  to  be  some  hitch.  The  crowd 
began  to  get  impatient. 

"What's  the  matter?"  they  cried.  "Why  don't  you 
light  her  ii|>  .'" 

"  We're  wailing  for  Braddy,"  came  back  the  answer. 

"Where  is  he?'' 

"Give  it  up." 

"He's  hunting  his  brother."  said  one.  "He's  down  ou 
the  Bingo  farm,"  cried  another. 

This  was  rather  "fresh,"  but  there  was  a  general  laugh, 
which  turned  into  a  cheer  as  Braddy,  wearing  a  worried 
look, pushed  his  way  through  the  crowd. 

"  I  can't  Hud  the  kid,"  he  said,  anxiously. 

"Oh,  he  will  turn  up  all  right,'1  said  the  others;  "he's 
sure  to  come  to  the  tire.  Brace  up  and  light  her,  Jen- 
nings." 

Just  t  lien  I  here  was  a  shout  from  behind,  and  the  closely 
packed  mass  opened  up  to  let  a  fence  come  in,  which 
two  small  Unshed  and  panting  boys  were  dragging  after 
them. 

"  Great  Scott,  it's  Braddy's  brother!"  said  the  Senior  who 
had  sat  next  to  him  at  the  game.  "Where,  in  the  world 
did  you  get  all  that  fence,  and  how  did  you  manage  to  drag 
it  here  .'" 

Bingo  was  far  too  breathless  to  answer,  but  Dave  spoke 
up. 

"A  lot  of  fellows  helped  us,"  he  said.  "We  brought  it 
round  a  back  way,  but  Brad  and  I  brought  it  through  the 
campus  alone." 

"  Give  them  a  cheer,  fellows,"  cried  the  Senior,  "  and  start 
the  tire." 

"  Here's  to  Braddy's  brother,"  sang  the  Freshmen,  as  they 
threw  the  lighted  matches  into  the  pile,  "drink  her  down! 
Here's  to  Braddy's  brother,  and—  - 

"  Dave  Hunter!"  shouted  Bingo,  who  had  found  his  voice. 

" — and  Dave  Hunter  lie's  the  other;  drink;  her  down, 
drink  her  down,  drink  her  down,  down,  down!"  etc.,  ending 
up  with  a  rousing  B-I-N-G-O — J-liiii/n.' 

Then  the  fire  began  to  crackle  and  si/zle  and  blaze  up 
and  roar,  and  the  Freshmen  cheered  and  sang  and  shouted, 
and  the  bright  light  revealed  groups  of  girls  with  brothers 
and  friends  who  had  come  to  see  the  celebration,  and  myri- 
ads of  small  boys  who  had  come  to  see  the  fun. 

It  was  a  beautiful  sight.  The  wood  had  been  piled  up 
in  pyramid  form,  and  the  flames  rose  red  aud  yellow  almost 
to  the  tops  of  the  tall  elms,  those  still  sentries  of  the 
campus.  How  it  spluttered  aud  hissed  and  crashed  and 
roared  !  and  not  eveu  the  Freshmen  could  drown  the  mighty 
voice,  which  spoke  in  so  many  different  tongues,  though 
they  did  their  best;  and  as  Braddy's  brother,  standing  near 
the  wagon  which  held  the  nine,  watched  the  shooting, 
dancing,  devouring  flames  his  heart  thumped  so  that  it  al- 
most broke  out  of  bounds,  aud  he  drew  long,  very  long 
breaths. 

The  tire  had  died  down  .somewhat,  the  cheering  was  more 
spasmodic  aud  subdued,  the  time  for  speeches  had  come. 
Every  one  crowded  closer, aud  the  wagon,  not  the  burning 
pile,  became  the  centre  of  attention. 

••Speech!  speech!"  cried  ''J8.      ••  A  speech,  Braddy." 

Bradlicld  was  not  only  the  pitcher,  but  the  Captain  of 
the  Freshman  nine.  So  they  forced  him  upon  the  high  seat, 
and  yelled  for  quiet.  Braddy  looked  down  upon  the  densely 
packed  mass,  hushed  for  the  moment  into  something  like 
si  illness,  and  his  nerve  completely  deserted  him.  There  he 
stood,  fair  and  boyish,  a  target  for  all  eyes,  hut  he  could  not 

SM\  a  word,      lie  opened  his  n th,  he  even  gestured,  bul 

no  sound  came.  It  was  a  ease  of  pure  stage-fright,  and  the 
awkwardness  increase. 1  \\ilh  every  second.  "  Fellows,"  ho 
managed  to  si  a  miner  out — "  fellow  s  — 

But  there  he  stopped.  Suddenly  the  painful  pause  iva 
broken  hy  a  high  excited  voice.  "Tell  'cm  Princeton's 


the  biggest  college  in  the  world,  Tom,  and  lhai  '96  can  heal 
an\    Freshman  nine  in  ilie  country  !" 

It  broke  the  spell.  Long  and  loud  were  the.  cheers  that 
followed  this  outburst,  and  ••  liraddv's  hrol  her."  covered 
with  confusion,  was  hoisted  by  a  do/en  hands  inl»  the 
wagon  beside  I  he  nine.  I'.y  Ihc  time  Ihat  quiet  had  onci 
more  been  restored  Tom  Bradlicld  had  recovered  his 
"nerve,"  and  his  speech  on  that  memorable  occasion  will 
go  down  to  posterity  as  one  of  the  best  on  record.  All  the 
speeches  were  good,  »/il<  inliil.  Bingo  thought,  for  he  heard, 
and  understood,  and  thrilled  with  e\ery  word.  When  the 
final  sentence  had  been  delivered,  and  '!H  had  once  mom 
chained  thenine  in  triumph  round  the  now  visible  cannon, 
and  cheered  them  hoarsely  for  the  last  time,  and  when  the 
crowd  had  begun  to  disperse,  leaving  the  smouldering  em- 
ber-, ami  shouting  a  ml  singing  as  they  wen  I,  Braddy  turned 
to  his  brother  with  a  smile  and  said, 

"  Well,  Biug,  ready  for  bed  t" 

And  Bingo  answered  with   a  sigh,  "  I  suppose  a  fellow 
has  to  go  to  bed  even  after  a  Freshman  fire." 


"THE   OLD-FASHIONED   LAWYER." 

LAURA'S  cousins  were  coming  to  stay  overnight,  so 
she  asked  mamma  if  she  might  not  invite  sonic  of  her 
school  friends,  and  .some  of  brother  Will's,  to  spend  the 
evening.  And  as  these  friends  were  pretty  sure  to  conic-, 
mother  and  daughter  held  a  conference  as  how  best  to  en- 
tertain them. 

"  Why  not  have  games  .'" 

"  The  very  thing!  What  would  I  do  without  your  help, 
mother  dear,1'  was  the  impulsive  answer. 

"And  the  best  game  I  know  to  start  with  would  be  The 
Old-fashioned  Lawyer.  That  will  rub  away  all  shyness, 
and  all  will  feel  as  though  they  were  friends  for  a  year." 

I, aura  was  delighted,  and  contentedly  ran  off  to  tell  her 
brother.  But  Will  did  not  know  the  game,  and  Laura  had 
to  explain. 

"We'll  need  an  odd  number  of  players.  But  that  can 
be  arranged  by  you  or  I  dropping  out. 

"The  odd  one  must  be  Judge,  to  settle  disputed  point's. 

"The  players  must  sit  opposite-  each  other  in  two  rows, 
and  the  Lawyer  is  to  stand  in  the  centre  between  the  rows. 
The  Judge  can  sit  in  Ihc-  big  given  chair,  lie-cause-  it  is 
high  ;  for  he  must  keep  all  the-  players  in  full  vie-w. 

"The  game  begins  by  the  Lawyer  putting  a  question  to 
the^  person  at  cither  end  of  one  of  the  rows.  But  the-  01^ 
to  answer  is  not  the  one  addressed.  And  there,  Will,  is 
when1  the  fun  comes  in." 

"Who  is  to  answer?" 

"The  person  at  the  extreme  end  of  the-  opposite  row. 
Aud  should  he  not  correctly  answer  be-fore-  the-  Lawyer 
counts  five,  he  must  e-hange  places  with  Ihe-  Lawyer.  And 
the  Lawyer  begins  to  count  slowly  out  loud  as  soon  as  he- 
asks  the  question." 

"  What  if  the  person  addressed  ivplic  a    " 

"Then  he  must  pay  a  forfeit. 

"After  the  first  i|iie'stion  is  answered.  Ihe-  l.aw\er  may 
address  whomever  he  pleases,  but  the  parly  addiv.s.-cd  mnsi 
remain  silent;  it  is  the  opposite  one  who  must  answe-r. 
The  Lawyer  must  of  course  ask  questions  that  are  possible 
to  answer.  If  he  should  take-  advantage-.  I  In  re  's  the-  J 
to  keep  him  in  order." 

"What  kind  ofqneslious  irnnlil  \on  ask  .'" 

"  Why,  ordinary  onc-s.  \Vhc.(hcr  or  not  a  person  paints 
from  nature  .'  Who  is  your  lavorile-  mii.Mcian  .'  \Vhn-h  do 
you  prefer,  rowing  or  sailing,  tennis  m  noli'.'  All  Kinds  of 
questions  like  that.  1  don't  believe  oiie  of  us  couhl  ti-;i 
the-  date-  of  i  he-  tirst  crusade,  or  who  invented  ink  and 
when. 

"And  another  I  hing.  never  look  at  the-  individual  you  in- 
tend lie-\l  I"  i|lle-sl  ion.  I'.ir  both  he'  and  his  opposite-  Uejgll- 

bor  would  t.heu  he-  prepared.     Yon  must  plaj   \  cry  rapidly 
or  it's  no  fun.      Ami  if  anj   question   or  di>eiisMon   occur.-, 

Ihe'  .1  udi;e-   III  ilsl    dc< 

"That  will  be  right  jolly,  Laura.     Hu  \ou  think  th- 
will  all  comet" 


835 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


CORPORAL    FRED.* 

A  Story  of  the  Riots. 

BY     CAPTAIN     CHARLES     KING,     U.S.A. 


CHAPTER    V . 

FOR  a  mile  after  leaving  its  armory  the  regiment  bad 
marched  through  the  beautiful  residence  portion  of  the 
city,  cheered  and  applauded  to  the,  skies.  Turning  "  column 
right,"  it  had  then  threaded  a  narrow  street,  shop-lined  and 
less  sympathetic,  had  tramped  in  cool  disregard  through 
half  a  mile  of  railway  property  where,  iu  groups  of  tweuty 
or  thirty,  strikers  and  sympathizers  recoiled,  but  scowled 
and  cursed  them,  yet  prudently  refrained  from  further  vio- 
li-nce.  Once  in  a  while  some  street  arab  let  drive  a  stone, 
then  dove  under  the  nearest  car,  and  scurried  away  into 
hiding.  Then  came  the  lumber  district,  the  swaying 
bridges  when'  they  broke  their  cadenced  stride,  and  crossed 
at  route  step.  Then  in  the  gathering  darkness  the  head  of 
the  column  reached  the  outlying  wards.  Square  upon  square, 
section  on  section  of  frame  two-story  houses,  the  homes  of 
citizens  of  only  moderate  means,  and  here,  too,  people 
clustered  on  door-steps  or  ran  to  gather  at  street  corners 
and  murmur  God-speed  and  blessing,  for  less  than  a  mile 
;iw:iy  now  the  western  sky  was  lighting  up  with  the  glare 
of  conflagration,  and  the  direful  word  was  going  round  t  hat 
tin-  mob  was  tiring  the  freight-cars,  and  that,  despite  the 
efforts  of  fearless  and  devoted  firemen,  the  flames  were 
spreading  to  warehouses  and  factories  along  the  line.  Only 
ii  few  minutes  after  sundown  the  first  summons  had  bauged 
on  the  gongs  of  the  engine  and  truck  houses  of  the  west 
side.  Then  every  fire-box  for  four  miles  along  the  lines  of 
the  (Jreat  Western  seemed  to  have  been  "pulled,"  and  in  a 
wild  confusion  of  alarms  assistant  chiefs  were  driving  their 
clanging  buggies,  followed  by  rushing  hose- wagons  and 
steamers,  all  over  the  outlying  wards,  unreeling  their  hose 
only  to  have  it  slashed  and  ruined  by  swarming  rioters,  and 
they  themselves,  the  tire-fighters  of  the  people,  men  whose 
lives  were  devoted  to  duty,  humanity,  and  mercy,  brutally 
clubbed  and  stoned  by  overpowering  gangs  of  "  toughs  " 
bent  on  mad  riot  and  destruction.  For  hours  from  every 
direction  the  vicious,  the  desperate,  the  unemployed  of  the 
great  city  had  been  swarming  to  the  scene,  and  the  police 
force  that,  properly  led  and  handled  at  the  outset,  could 
easily  have  quelled  the  incipient  tumult,  was  now  as  power- 
less as  the  firemen.  Oh,  what  if  a  prairie  gale  should  rise 
and  fan  these  flames,  as  once,  long  years  before,  it  swept  be- 
fore it  an  ocean  of  fire  that  left  only  a  ruined  city  iu  its 
wake ! 

Marching  at  route  step  now,  but  still  in  stern  silence, 
the  column  seemed  to  quicken  its  pace  and  push  eagerly 
ahead.  Open  spaces  between  the  houses  or  one-storied 
cottages  became  more  frequent.  Fiercer  aud  wilder  the 
flames  seemed  shooting  on  high.  Over  the  low  hoarse 
murmur  of  the  distant  throng  could  now  be  heard  occa- 
sional crackle  of  pistol  shots,  followed  by  tierce  yells.  Out 
at  the  front,  a  hundred  yards  in  advance  of  the  staff,  an 
alert  young  officer,  with  a  dozen  picked  men,  scoured  the 
streets,  the  front  yards,  the  crossings,  sweeping  the  way  for 
the  main  column  ;  and  now  as  they  came  within  six  blocks 
of  the  scene,  the  roar  of  the  riot  mingling  with  that  of  the 
mounting  flames  drowned  all  other  sounds  about  them. 
Women  at  squalid  saloons  and  corner  groceries  were  laugh- 
ing aud  jeering.  Women  at  quiet  homes  were  weeping 
aud  wringing  their  hands.  Somewhere  up  at  the  front, 
Leyoud  the  black  bulk  of  a  row  of  warehouses,  a  sudden  flash 
and  glare  lit  up  the  westward  front  of  every  house,  aud 
shone  on  scores  of  pallid  faces.  A  volume  of  flame,  a 
burst  of  beams,  sparks,  and  billowing  smoke  flung  high  iu 
air,  aud  an  instant  later  a  dull  roar  and  rumble  shook  the 
windows  close  at  hand,  letting  some  loose  sashes  dowu  with 
startling  clash  and  jangle.  From  the  sidewalks  arose 
stifled  shrieks  and  louder  wailing.  From  the  head  of  the 
column,  where  some  horses  shied  iu  sudden  fright,  came  the 
firm,  low-toned  orders  of  the  Colonel:  "Forward  the  first 
*  Beguu  iu  HABPEK'S  ROUND  TABLE  No.  821. 


company!  Clear  that  street  ahead!"  For,  as  if  hurled  back 
by  the  explosion,  a  dense  mass  of  rioters  came  flooding  into 
the'  broad  thoroughfare,  blocking  it  from  curb  to  curb. 
Promptly  at  double  time  the  foremost  company  went  dancing 
by,  forming  front  into  line  as  it  cleared  the  group  of  mounted 
officers,  and  then  the  Colonel  turned  in  his  saddle,  and  look- 
ed back  beyond  his  staff  to  a  second  rauk  of  orderlies  and 
buglers,  to  where  a  pale  young  fellow,  hatless,  and  with 
heavily  bandaged  head,  rode  side  by  side  with  the  signal 
sergeant,  his  dark  eyes  fixed  on  the  soldierly  form  of  his 
commander. 

"  Corporal  Wallace !"  called  the  Colonel,  and  our  wounded 
Fred  urged  his  horse  to  the  commander's  side.  "  Yon  know 
all  these  buildings  hereabouts.  Can  you  judge  what  they're 
blowing  up  ?" 

"  That's  uear  the  shops,  sir.     They  may  have  fired  them." 

"  Which  is  Alleu  Street  ?  The  police  officials  are  to  meet 
us  there." 

"  Second  street  ahead,  sir ;  jnst  this  side  of  the  crowd." 

"  What's  that  big  plant  off  there  to  the  northward  ?" 
asked  the  Colonel,  indicating  a  group  of  factorylike  build- 
ings whose  walls  and  windows  were  illumined  by  the  glare 
of  the  flames  iu  the  freight-yards. 

'•The  Amity  Wagon-Works,  sir,  where  Sercombe  and  I 
wen-  discharged  this  afternoon." 

"Yes.  I  heard  about  that.  Similar  cases  occurred  in 
town.  Never  you  mind,  my  lad,  there'll  be  employers 
enough  for  both  of  you  when  this  trouble's  over,  and 
troubles  enough  for  the  employers  who  discharged  you. 
Now  ride  close  by  me  ;  we'll  need  guides  here,  aud  that's 
\\  by  you're  mounted.  What  an  infernal  row  they're  mak- 
ing yonder,"  he  added,  as  though  to  himself,  as  yeils  of  rage 
aud  triumph  mingling  rose  madly  over  the  hiss  of  the 
flames. 

Already  the  advance  company  was  neariug  the  crossing 
of  the  second  street.  At  the  hydrant  on  cue  side  stood  a 
fire-engine  blowing  off  its  useless  steam.  In  a  buggy,  sur- 
rounded by  a  dozen  heluieted  police  on  foot,  sat  an  inspec- 
tor of  the  department,  alternately  eying  the  flames  and  the 
surging  mob  on  one  side,  aud  on  the  other  the  dim  column 
swinging  up  the  dusty  street.  Already  dozeus  of  excited 
men  were  rushing,  ducking,  and  darting  along  the  side- 
walks, speeding  to  their  fellows  in  the  mob  to  say  the  sol- 
diers were  close  at  hand.  The  little  squad  iu  advance  had 
reached  the  crossing,  when  the  official  in  the  buggy  raised 
his  hand,  signalled  halt,  and,  obedient  to  the  time-honored 
republican  principle  of  the  subordination  of  the  military 
to  the  civil  power,  the  Lieutenant  respected  the  order. 
The  leading  company  marched  straight  to  the  crossing, 
then,  too,  in  its  turn,  as  one  man,  halted  short  at  the  com- 
mand of  its  stalwart  captain,  and  dowu  came  the  musket 
butts  on  the  woodeu  pavement.  The  Colouel  spurred  for- 
ward, his  Adjutant  and  Corporal  Fred  following  iu  his 
tracks.  There  was  little  of  gratification  iu  the  soldier's 
face  as  he  recognized  the  official  in  the  buggy;  but,  the 
laws  of  his  State,  which  he  had  sworn  to  obey,  as  well  as 
the  orders  of  the  Governor  and  the  officers  appointed  over 
him,  prevailed.  The  Governor's  orders  placed  the  troops  at 
the  disposal  of  the  Mayor.  The  Mayor  ordered  the  Colonel 
to  report  to  the  Inspector  of  Police.  It  was  something  un- 
heard of  in  military  tradition,  but  this  was  no  time  to  ex- 
postulate or  object.  The  gentleman  and  soldier  touched 
his  hat  to  the  ex-ward  politiciau.  "  Mr.  Morrissey,  I  report 
with  my  regiment  for  your  instructions."  And  the  long 
column  behind  him,  battalion  by  battalion,  came  to  the 
halt. 

I  p  the  side  street  among  some  piles  of  lumber  arose 
ahov.-  the  tumult,  or  rather  pierced  its  low,  deep-throated 
roar,  the  shrill  cries  of  a  child  iu  mad  excitement  and  dis- 
tress. "  Oh,  let  me  go  !"  it  wailed.  "  I  must  see  the  Colo- 
nel! I  want  my  brother !  They're  killing  my  father!  Oh, 
don't  stop  me!  Fred!  Fred!"  it  screamed,  and  in  the 
grasp  of  a  burly  policeman  at  the  outskirts  of  a  crowd  of 
womeu  and  children  a  little  hatless  boy  could  he  seen 
madly  struggling. 

"Ah,  go  home  to  your  mother  wid  yer  fairy  stories,"  was 
the  cajoling  answer,  as  the  officer  "strove  'to  thrust  the 
youngster  back  among  the  by-stauders ;  but  all  in  an  iu- 


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HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


staut  a  lithe  young  fellow  in  the  uniform  of  a  corporal  had 
spring  from  his  saddle  and  rushed  to  the  scene.  ID  an- 
other moment  be  had  raised  the  boy  in  his  arms,  and  with 

s  burrleu  clinging  sobbing  at  his  neck,  Fred  Wallace  came 
bounding  back  down  the  street. 

"  Hear  him,  Colonel,  oh,  hear  him  !"  he  cried.  "  He  has 
com,,  straight  from  the  shops.  Jim,  my  brother,  sent  him 
to  beg  for  help.  They're  mobbing  father." 

'Sure  they  tired  the  shops  good  fifteen  minutes  ago. 
Tliej  're  all  in  a  blaze," said  an  officer  of  police,  iu  a  tone  of 
remonstrance.  '•  There's  no  use  going  there." 

"Who  sent  the  kid?"  asked  the  Inspector,  doubtfully. 
"How  do  yon  know  this  isn't  all  a  fake?" 

"li's   my  brother,"  cried  Fred,  nearly   mad  with   inrpa- 


"C'an't  I?"  shouted  the  Colonel,  eagerly  grasping  the 
implied  permission.  -Out  of  the  \\:ly  there,  \,,n  people!" 
he  cried  to  some  women  and  children  SI-IIIT\  inn  across  the 
street.  "Come  up  with  the  rest  of  that  lirst  liattalii.n  '." 
ran;;  his  voice,  clear  anil  thrilling,  over  the  throng. 
"Mount,  corporal ,  you  must  show  us  the  way.  The  police 
will  take  care  of  the  little  man.  Forward.  Company  I!! 
Tumble  that  crowd  into  the  gutter!" 

"Forward, double  time!"  ordered  the  Captain. as  the  In- 
spector whipped  his  Im^v  out  of  the  way,  and  the  rilles 
bounded  up  to  the  right  shoulder.  "March!"  lie  added, 
an  instant  later,  aud  straight  up  the  broad  avenue,  steady, 
solid,  unswerving,  went  the  Ion",  double  ranks,  ih,  (  lolonel 
aud  his  little  party  trotting  close  behind,  the  senior  Major. 


IN    ANOTHER    MOMENT    HE    HAD    RAISED    THE    BOY    IN    HIS    ARMS. 


tience  and  dread.  "  Oh,  for  pity's  sake,  let  us  go,  Colonel  I 
Jim  sent  you  himself,  didn't  he.  Billy  f" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  sobbed  the  little  fellow,  "and  they  were 
screaming  aud  bursting  in  the  door." 

"  Who  is  he,  anyhow  ?"  went  on  the  official,  still  bent  on 
investigation,  when  the  Colonel  sharply  interposed. 

"This  is  no  time  for  talk.  I  believe  the  story.  Yon  can 
see — hear  it's  true.  I  demand  the  right  to  drive  back  thai 
mob,  or  the  whole  country  shall  ring  with  the  story  of  your 
refusal." 

"Mv  goodness,  Colonel!  I'm  not  to  blame.  I've  got  my 
orders  just  as  you  have.  I'm  told  to  use  force  only  as  a  last 
extremity,  aud  not  to  fire  at  all.  You  can't  scatter  that 
mob  without  tiring." 


with  his  three  companies,  follow  ing  sturdily  in  their  wake 
while  the  Lieutenant-colonel,  ordering  the  bugle  aigliala 
"attention"  and  "  for  ward,"  prepared  to  support  them  with 
the  rest  of  the  column.  Yelling  and  jeering.  Mil  seat  lering 
rinht  and  left,  tin-  nearest  rioters  leaped  for  the  sidewalks. 
or  turned  and  tied  into  tin-  thicker  mass  ahead,  less  able 
from  its  own  solidity  to  move.  "  Port  arms!"  was  the  next 
command,  ami  down  came  the  brown  barrels  across  ihe 
broad  blue  chest*,  "(live  'cm  the  but  I  if  I  hey  keep  in  the 
way."  grow  led  the  burly  Captain.  "Steady  there  in  the 

centre.       Keep   ih   line,"  he  cautioned,  as  siilne  eai;el    tellows 

strove   to  quicken   the   pace   and   lead   in    the  anticipated 

chaise,  and  so  I  ram  p.  tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  in  the  quick  ca- 
dence of  the  dancing  feel,  sixty -six  M  inn;;,  the  seuiol  cuni- 


837 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


pain  led  the  ready  column  straight  into  the  heart  of  the 
mob,  straigbt  through  the  gates,  where  two  fool hardy  fellows 
striving  to  lower  tliem  were  flattened  out  by  tin-  \\  liack  of 
musket-butts,  and  weut  down  like  stock-yard  catllr  under 
the  blow  of  the  steel.  Over  the  gleaming  lines  of  track*. 
in  the  glare  of  blazing  rows  of  freight-cars,  right,  and  left, 
sweeping  the  cursing  rioters  like  chaff  before  them,  reck- 
less of  flying  missile  or  savage  oath,  through  the  broad 
gates  be\ond  the  yards,  with  clearer  ground  ahead,  they 
kept  their  steady  way,  then  slowed  down  to  quick  time, 
their  triumphant  passage  safely  forced.  Then,  once  oiit- 
side  the  yards,  leayiug  to  their  comrades  in  the  rear  the 
easy  duty  of  facing  and  standing  off  the  raging  lint  impo- 
tent throng,  the  foremost  company.  led  now  by  the  Colonel, 
with  Corporal  Fred  in  close  attendance,  broke  once  more 
into  column  of  fours,  and  plunged  into  a  narrow  street 
lighted  by  the  flames  shooting  aloft  from  the  repair  shops 
of  the  Great  Western  road.  Ahead  of  them,  separated  from 
the  yards  by  the  high  picket- fence,  was  au  open  space 
wellnigh  packed  with  rioting  men,  their  savage  faces  ruddy 
in  the  glare.  The  fence  itself  was  blazing  from  the  neigh- 
boring cars,  and  a  broad  section  almost  opposite  the  shops 
had  been  hurled  down  by  the  mob. 

"  Back  with  you,  Captain  !"  called  the  Colonel  to  his  Ad- 
jutant. "Turn  the  second  battalion  into  the  yards  and 
up  to  that  gap.  We'll  hem  them  on  two  sides  there! 
Close  up!  Close  up!"  he  shouted  to  the  rearward  compa- 
nies. "Now,  Captain  Fulton,  form  line  again  the  moment 
you  clear  this  lane."  The  Adjutant  went  clattering  back 
full  gallop.  Another  minute,  and  the  rush  and  roar  of  the 
crowd  beyond  the  fence  told  that  the  ready  second  was 
sweeping  all  before  it  down  among  the  blazing  cars. 
Presently  the  long  rows  of  drab  felt  hats  could  be  seen 
dancing  along  in  the  fire-light. 

"Never  fear,  corporal,  we'll  be  there  in  time,"  said  the 
Colonel.  "See,  the  flames  haveu't  reached  half  their  length. 
Now,  Fulton,  right  turn  and  drive  them  north.  Split  'em 
up!  Give  'em — fits!"  he  added,  with  a  gulp,  for  he  was  a 
pious  man,  and  opposed  to  the  use  of  terms  that  come  "  far 
more  natural"  at  such  a  time.  And  the  next  thing  Fred 
knew  Captain  Fulton's  men  were  again  double-timing  up 
another  street,  whirling  the  crowd  before  them.  "G," 
"H,"  and  "L" — Fred's  own  company — were  sweeping  the 
broad  space  in  front  of  the  shops  from  one  side,  and  fairly 
pitching  the  mob  into  the  faces  of  their  comrades  of  the 
second  battalion  as  they  neared  the  gap.  If  there  were 
broken  noses,  blackened  eyes,  battered  heads  all  through 
those  suburban  streets  and  lanes  that  grewsome  night  it 
surely  wasn't  the  fault  of  the  Colonel's  "  boys,"  but  a  score 
of  these  fellows,  following  the  lead  ofthehatless  corporal, 
who  sprang  from  his  horse  opposite  the  hlaziug  entrance, 
bending  low  to  avoid  the  stifling  smoke,  pushed  on  across 
the  little  court-yard,  past  a  wrecked  and  dismantled  wing 
whose  roof  was  just  crackling  and  bursting  into  fierce 
flames. 

Behind  them,  sure  of  protection  now,  adozeu  firemen  came 
dragging  their  hose.  A  knot  of  ragged,  raging  "toughs," 
issuing  from  a  narrow  door,  hurst  away  at  sight  of  them — 
not  so  quick  as  to  escape  some  resounding  thumps  of  those 
hated  rifle-butts,  and  through  this  smoking  portal  leaped 
Fred,  closely  followed  by  his  comrades.  The,  shooting  flames 
overhead  and  down  the  main  building  lit  :i  pathway  even 
through  the  stifling  clouds  of  smoke,  and  a  moment  more 
brought  the  foremost  of  the  party  to  a  little  room  parti- 
tioned off.  There  on  its  accustomed  peg  hung  old  Wallace's 
coat. 

Here,  there,  and  everywhere,  overturned  benches  and 
chairs  and  scattered  tools,  and  scraping,  struggling  font- 
prints  on  the  dusty  floor  told  of  some  recent  and  des- 
perate battle.  Something  warm  and  wet  was  sprinkled 
all  about  the.  place,  at  touch  of  which  Fred  grew  sick  and 
faint;  but  not  another  sign  was  there  of  old  Wallace  or 
of  Jim,  until  from  under  a  blazing,  half-finished  car  some 
fifty  feet  away  the  firemen  dragged  a  battered,  bleeding 
form,  and  the  younger  brother  threw  himself  by  the  sense- 
less elder's  side,  madly  imploring  him  to  say  what  had  be- 
fallen father. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


I1IS   SCORCHING  WAS  NOT    IN  VAIN. 

BY   WILLIAM    IIKMMIN«WAY. 

Al.'THUR  CLARK  believed  himself  the  victim  of  gross 
injustice-.  His  bicycle  had  brought  him  into  dis- 
grace. Me  Imd  come  home  flushed  with  victory,  ready  to 
be  hailed  as  the  uncrowned  king  of  scorchers,  and  here 
he  \\a>  virtually  a  prisoner  in  his  room,  whither  he  had 
been  sent  directly  after  a  wretched  supper  of  oatmeal  por- 
ridge. 

"  I  wouldn't  mind  it  if  I  had  been  ordered  not  to  go  into 
the  road  race,"  he  said  to  himself, for  the  fiftieth  time,  as 
he  rolled  impatiently  in  his  bed;  "but  just  because  I 
promised  my  father  I  wouldn't  do  any  riding  that  would 
exhaust  me,  he  has  packed  rue  off  to  bed  as  if  I  were  a 
mere  child.  That's  pretty  rough  on  a  fellow  of  fourteen. 
Anyhow,  I  beat  all  the  scorchers  ill  our  school,  and  that's 
something." 

Arthur  could  not  go  to  sleep.  Re  twisted  and  squirmed 
from  one  side  of  the  bed  to  the  other,  listening  to  the 
solemn  protests  of  the  katydids  and  the  shrill  chirping  of 
the  crickets.  That  industrious  prompter,  conscience,  be- 
gan to  annoy  him  shamelessly.  Now  that  the  first  flush  of 
his  resentment  had  died  away,  he  thought  that  perhaps 
his  father  was  right  after  all.  True,  he  had  beaten  all  the 
other  fellows  easily;  but  then,  what  if  it  had  been  a  hard 
struggle  ?  Wouldn't  it  have  exhausted  him  ?  It  occurred 
to  him  that  he  had  broken  his  word. 

Arthur  fell  asleep  very  late.  He  usually  slept  so  fast 
and  so  hard  that  from  bedtime  until  the  rising  bell  seemed 
like  one  minute.  But  now  he  tossed  restlessly.  His  sleep 
was  light.  Suddenly  he  found  himself  sitting  bolt-up- 
right iu  bed.  He  saw  a  streak  of  pale  whitish  light  on 
the  floor  and  across  his  bed,  and  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 
moon.  Oh,  yes,  it  was  the  moon  that  had  awakened  him. 
Queer  that  had  never  happened  before.  He  would  go  to 
sleep  again.  Then  a  rough,  rather  hoarse  voice  startled 
him.  It  came  from  his  father's  room. 

"You're  comin'  right  down  ter  de  bank,  dat's  wat  you're 
goiii'  ter  do,"  the  voice  said,  "  an'  if  ye  don't  open  de  safe 
ye'll  he  learned  how — see  ?" 

"I  shall  not  go  one  step.  You  may  do  your  -worst."  It 
was  his  father's  voice  now. 

"Hurrah  for  you,  father!"  Arthur  could  hardly  keep 
from  shouting.  Then  there  was  silence  for  a  moment.  He 
heard  two  sharp  clicks  that  told  of  the  cocking  of  a  re- 
volver; then  his  mother's  voice  pleading  with  his  father 
to  remember  the  children.  Now  there  was  the  sound  of 
a  struggle.  The  burglar  won,  although  he  feared  to  use 
his  revolver  least  the  noise  might,  summon  help.  Arthur 
understood  it  all.  His  father  was  the  cashier  of  the  Traders' 
Bank.  The  burglar  probably  had  au  accomplice  outside 
who  would  help  take  his  father  to  the  bank  and  force  him 
to  open  the  safe. 

Help  must  be  got.  The  bank  was  iu  Plaiufield,  three 
miles  away.  If  only  there  were  some  way  of  telephoning 
to  the  police,  station  !  He  knew  that  a  sergeant  sat  there 
all  night.  Men  slept  upstairs.  But  there  was  no  tele- 
phone. Now  a,  thought  came  to  him  that  almost  made  him 
shout  for  joy.  In  ten  seconds  he  had  jumped  into  his 
sweater  and  kuickerbockers,  and  was  lacing  on  his  rubber- 
soled  bicycling  shoes.  He  did  not  wait  for  a  hat  or  stock- 
ings. He  peered  anxiously  over  the  edge  of  the  porch  roof 
into  the  backyard.  No,  there  was  no  one  watching  there. 
Noiselessly  the  boy  lowered  himself  over  the  edge,  and 
climbed  down  one  of  the  pillars,  crushing  the  honeysuckle 
vine  as  he  went.  He  found  his  bicycle  leaning  against  the 
house,  where  he  had  left  it  that  afternoon  after  the  race. 

He  picked  up  the  wheel  and  walked  on  tiptoe  across  the 
grass  at  the  rear  of  the  house.  He  threaded  his  way  be- 
tween the  rows  of  corn-stalks  in  the  kitchen-garden.  He 
made  a  long  circuit,  and  at  last  came  out  in  the  road. 
Then  he  mounted  his  bicycle  and  wheeled  away  at  a  pace 
that  would  have  astonished  bis  friends.  Going  down  hill 
he  was  very  cautious.  He  bacU  pedalled.  There  must  be 
no  falling;  therefore  no  coasting.  Again  on  the  level  road, 
he  shot  forward  like  a  racer.  He  knew  that,  if  the  burg- 
lars got  his  father  into  the  bank  they  would  try  to  make 


Sis 


HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE 


him  open  the  safe  in  which  $70,000  had  been  deposited  that 
day.  His  father  would  resist,  he  knew.  lie  remembered 
what  hail  happened  to  other  bank  cashiers  who  resisted. 
The  thought  choked  him.  He  bent  over  his  handle  bar, 
and  the  wheels  seemed  to  fly.  The  pale,  sinking  moon,  the 
silent,  road  that  stretched  its  white  length  before  him,  the 
tall  trees,  mysterious  in  their  own  dark  shadows,  the  grass 
shining  with  dew,  all  made  a  picture  that  he  never  forgot. 
Above  all,  a  scene  stood  ont  that  he  could  not  shut  from  his 
mind,  try  as  he  might — his  father  in  the  hands  of  the  two 
ruffians,  resolutely  defying  them  in  face  of  awful  danger. 

The  sergeant  nodding  in  his  chair  in  the  police  station 
at  one  o'clock  in  the  morning  was  startled  by  the  vision  of 
a  bareheaded,  white-faced  boy. 

"Hurry!"  the  boy  exclaimed.  "The  Traders'  Bank! 
Robbers!"  In  less  than  a  minute  the  sergeant  and  two  of 
his  men  were  on  their  way  to  the  bank.  Arthur  followed 
them  closely.  He  hid  with  them  in  the  dark  vestibule  of 


the  hank.     It  seemed  to  the  boy  us  il  year    passed  before 

hi'    at     la. I     heard     footsteps    ill     the    silent    street.        Then     the 

minutes  were  hours  long.  At  last,  the  two  robbers  :ind 
their  victim  arrived  :it  I  be  outer  door.  They  pushed  mm 
in  and  told  him  to  lie  ]i\  el  y  a  I  H.I  it  unlock  iii",  that  dour.  At 

that   instant   the  police] jumped  forward  ami  presented 

their  pistols  at   the  heads  of  the  burglars.      The;,    made   no 
resistance.       The\    were  too  surprised.      Arthur  ami  his  fa- 
ther walked  home  side,  by  side,  Arthur  pnsliing  his  bi.  \rle 
by  the   handlebar.      Fora    h.nu   time  thej   bad  nothil 
say  to  each  other,  for  each  was  busy  with  his  llmuvJiK. 

"Arthur,"  said  his  fat  her  at   length.  "  I'm  "Ja. 
scorcher  in  the  family,  but  I — 

"  Yes,  sir."  interrupted  the  hoy,  eagerly  ;  "but  1  want  to 
tell  yon  I'm  sorry  I  went  into  the  road  race  t"  <la\ ." 

"Perhaps  I  was  too  hasty,"  said  Mr.  Clark.  "  lint  the 
bicycle  has  done,  one  good  thing.  It  has  shown  me  that 
my  sou  is  as  quick-witted  as  he  is  brave." 


GREAT    MEN'S    SONS. 

THE     SON     OF    CIIAL!  LEMAGNE. 


BY  ELBRIDGE  S.  BROOKS. 


the  summer  days  of  the  year 
?sl  an  odd  sort  of  a  procession 
marched  through  France. 

There  were  fluttering  stand- 
ards and  melodious  trumpets; 
there  were  gallant  knights,  and 
grave  men  in  robes  and  gowns, 
and  noble  ladies,  and  a  long  train 
of  servants;  there  were  spear- 
""'"  :I1R1  howinen  and  horsemen 
iu  Iuartial  array;  and  the  cen- 
tral figure  of  all  this  parade  and 
pomp  was  a  very  small  boy  of  but  three  years  old. 

Strangest  of  all  was  this  small  boy's  dress.  He  was  hut 
little  more  than  a  baby,  and  yet  he  rode  upon  a  stately 
war-horse  housed  in  purple  and  gold.  He  was  clad  in 
complete  armor  of  polished  steel;  on  his  head  he  wore-  a 
casque  of  steel  and  gold,  surmounted  with  a  tiny  golden 
crown;  in  his  small  hand  he  bore  a  truncheon,  and  about 
his  neck  was  slung  a  cross-handled  sword  of  steel  and  gold. 
A  stalwart  knight  rode  at  the  little  boy's  bridle-rein,  his 
protecting  arm  holding  the  small  rider  firmly  in  the.  sail- 
die  :  the  royal  banner  .fluttered  ahead,  and  at  the  boy's 
right  hand  rode  his  governor  and  guardian,  Count  William, 
called  the  snub-nosed — well,  because  it  was. 

From  castle  and  cottage,  from  town  and  hamlet,  came 
thronging  men  and  women,  boys  and  girls,  with  smile  and 
cheer  and  shout  of  hearty  welcome  :  "  Heaveu  bless  his 
little  Grace!  God  guard  our  little  King!  Long  live  King 
Louis!" 

For  this  very  small  hoy  of  three  was  indeed  a  King  en- 
tering his  dominion.  He  had  been  clowned  by  the  Pope 
at  Rome  King  of  Aquitaine.  Then,  from  his  father's  splen- 
did palace  in  Aachen,  or  what  is  now  the  German  city  of 
Aix-la-Chapelle,  he  had  started  with  his  glittering  escorl 
to  take  possession  of  his  kingdom  in  southwestern  France. 
Over  the  first  part  of  the  route  he  was  carried  in  his  cradle  ; 
but  when  he  left  the  city  of  Orleans,  and,  crossing  the 
Loire,  set  foot  within  his  own  dominions,  this  cradle-trav- 
elling, so  the  old  chronicle  tells  us,  "  beseemed  him  no 
longer."  He  was  a  King,  and  this  was  his  kingdom;  there- 
fore" like  a  King  he  must  make  bis  royal  progress.  So  upon 
this  little  three-year-old  was  put  a  suit  of  shining  armor, 
made  expressly  for  him.  w  itli  sword  and  truncheon  "equally 
proportioned"  ;  they  set  him  on  horseback,  and  thus  royally 
attended  he  entered  Aquitaiue.  and  marched  on  to  his  own 
royal  palace  at  Toulouse.  Ho  must  have  looked  "  awfully 

cunning" — thisthr year-old  in  armor — but  just  thinkhow 

tired  the  poor  little  fellow  must  ha\e  been. 

Aquitaine.  was  that  large  section  of  soul  h  western  France 
that  stretched  from  the  river  Loire  to  the  Pyrenees,  ami 


from  the  Bay  of  Biscay  eastward  to  the  banks  of  the 
Rhone.  It  had  been  brought  under  subjection  by  the  con 
qneriug  monarch  whose  short-lived  empire  embraced  all  of 
Europe  from  Rome  to  Copenhagen,  and  from  the  English 
Channel  to  the  Iron  Gates  of  the  Danube,  and  who,  parcel- 
ling out  his  dominion  among  his  bo\s.  hail  set  over  the 
principality  of  Aqnitaine  as  Kinj;  his  little  three-year-old 
Louis,  forever  famous  as  the  sou  of  Charlemagne. 

Here,  in  his  palace  at  Toulouse,  did  Louis  rule  as  King 
of  Aquitaiue  for  thirty-two  years,  subject  only  to  his  re- 
nowned father,  Charles  the  Emperor,  called  Carolus  Mag- 
nus, or  Charlemagne.  This  mighty  man,  "  the  greatest  of 
Germans"  —  great  in  stature,  in  aim,  in  energy,  and  iu 
authority — looked  sharply  after  the  small  boy  he  had  made 
King  of  Aqnitaine.  He  had  the  lad  carefully  and  thor- 
oughly educated,  and  Louis  grew  to  be  an  intelligent, 
bright-faced,  clear-eyed,  sturdy,  and  strong  young  man  , 
but  he  was  sober  and  sedate,  skilled  in  the  >enptuies  and 
learned  in  Latin  and  Greek,  unsuited  to  the  rough  war 
days  in  which  he  lived,  more  a  scholar  than  a  soldier,  and 
more  a  priest  than  a  prince. 

So  the  years  slipped  by.  Then  trouble  came  to  the  t;n  ,-n 
Emperor.  One  by  one  the  sons  of  Charlemagne  .sickened 
and  died — those  brave  and  stalwart  bo\  s  upon  whom  the 
father  had  relied  as  the  stay  and  help  of  his  old  a^c.  Ins 
successors  in  his  plan  of  empire.  At.  last  only  Louis  the 
Clerk  was  left . 

llludwig  Froinme  he  was  called  by  his  subjects  of  Aqui- 
tainc — that  is.  Louis  the  Kind;  and  thus,  though  wrongly 
rendered,  the  name  of  this  good  and  peace-loving  son  of 
Charlemagne  has  come  down  to  us  as  Louis  the  Pious,  or 
Louis  le  Debonair. 

Nowadays  we  are  apt  to  think  of  debonair  as  meaning 
ua\ .  careless,  fashionable,  and  "  dudish";  but  Louis-,  the  son 
of  Charlemagne,  was  anything  but  ibis,  lie  was  kind. 
courteous,  loving,  gentle,  and  true  ;  In  it  be  was  also  strict. 
dutiful,  and  just.  He  was  strong  of  limb  and  stout  of 
arm;  none  could  bend  bow  better  nor  coiicli  lance  truer 
1 1  KM  i  be  :  i  in  i  lie  never  cared  for  sport  nor  the  roue  h  ••  horse- 
plav  "  of  his  da\  ;  he  seldom  laughed  aloud  :  he-  w  as  ^\-\\\  e. 
prudent,  and  wise,  ••  slow  to  anger,  su  ift  to  pity,  liberal  in 
both  ",i\  ing  and  forgi\  ing." 

He  won  the  lo\  alt\  of  his  subjects  of  Aqnitaine  by  lo\e 
and  not  b\  t\r,-imi\  ;  he  kept  at  ba\  the  pagan  Moors  of 
Spain,  and,  under  wise  counsellors,  sought  t"  I-.OM-IU  his 
kingdom  justly  and  well. 

But  when  his  brothers  died, and  be,  the  youngest  of  the 
three,  was  summoned  to  bis  father's  .side,  he  let'i  his  i 
by    tie-    Garonne,  ill     pleasant     Toulouse,   and    haslci 
Aix-la-Chapelle.  bis  fat  ber's  capital. 

It  was   the   year  813.      An   assembly  of  t :  fthc 


839 


'HEAVEN    BLESS    HIS    LITTLE    GRACE." 


empire  met  the  great  King  in  his  capital,  and  promised  to 
recognize  King  Louis  of  Aqnitaine  as  heir  to  the  throne  of 
Charlemagne.  Then  in  the  great  church  that  he  hail  built 
at  Aix-la-Chapelle  the  old  monarch,  dressed  in  magnificent 
robes  (which  he  never  liked  and  would  but  rarely  put  on), 
stood  before  the  vast  assembly  of  princes  and  nobles  of 
Germany,  leaning  upon  the  shoulder  of  his  sturdily  built 
and  kindly  looking  son. 

The  sounds  of  prayer  and  song  that  opened  the  ceremony 
were  stilled,  and  then  the  old  Emperor,  facing  his  son,  told 
him  that  the  lords  and  barons  of  the  empire  bad  sanc- 
tioned his  appointment  as  associate  and  heir. 

"You  will  reign  in  my  stead,"  he  said.  'Tear  God,  my 
son,  and  follow  His  law.  Govern  the  Church  with  care,  and 
defend  it  from  its  enemies.  Preserve  the  empire ;  show 
kindness  to  your  relations;  honor  the  clergy  as  your  fa- 
thers, and  love  the  people  as  your  children.  Force  the 
proud  and  the  evil  ones  to  take  the  paths  of  virtue;  be 
the  friend  of  the  faithful  and  the  'helper  of  the  poor. 
Choose  your  ministers  wisely;  take  from  no  man  his  prop- 
erty unjustly,  and  keep  yourself  pure  and  above  reproach 
in  the  eyes  of  God  and  man." 

Then  Charlemagne  bade  Louis  take  up  the  iron  crown 
of  Rome  and  the  empire  that  lay  upon  the  altar,  and  place 
it  upon  his  head.  "Wear  it  worthily, O  King, my  son, "the 
father  said,  "as  a  gift  from  God,  your  father,  and  the  na- 
tion." 

And  when  the  son  of  Charlemagne  had  thus  crowned  him- 
self Emperor,  turning  to  the  great  assembly  the  old  man 
said:  "Behold,  I  present  to  you  your  sovereign  and  your 
lord.  Salute  him,  all  people,  as  Emperor  and  Augustus !" 

A  mighty  shout  of  loyalty  and  welcome  filled  the  crowd- 
ed church,  and  thus  was  the  sou  of  Charlemagne  crowned 
as  his  great  father's  associate  and  successor.  And  when, 
in  the  year  814,  Charlemagne,  still  a  sturdy  old  man,  sud- 
denly fell  sick  of  a  fever,  and  died  in  his  palaee  at  Aix-la- 
G'hapelle,  at  the  age  of  seventy-one,  Louis  ascended  the 
throne  of  what  was  called  the  Holy  Roman  Empire  as  its 
sole  and  sovereign  lord. 

He  came  to  his  vast  power  with  high  hopes  and  lofty 


aims.  The  solemn  words  of  his  father  upon  his  coronation 
day  lived  in  his  memory,  and  he  determined  to  rule  ia 
peace,  in  justice,  in  wisdom,  and  in  love.  He  would  abstain 
from  war;  he  would  lift  his  people  higher;  he  would  make 
his  court  learned,  retiued,  and  pure . ;  he  would  he  father 
and  friend  to  all  his  people,  and  make  his  realm  rejoice. 
Louis,  called  the  Pious  and  the  Kind-hearted,  should  rather 
have  been  called  Louis  the  Well-intentioned. 

But  alas  for  good  intentions  if  strength  of  will  be  want- 
ing! Louis  lived  in  harsh  and  brutal  days,  and  men  could 
appreciate  neither  his  gentle  manners  nor  his  worthy  aims. 
He  had  neither  his  father's  strength  of  mind  nor  firmness- 
of  will,  nor  had  he  what  is  called  magnetism — the  power 
to  compel  men  to  do  as  one  elects.  His  noble  aims  were 
speedily  brought  to  naught;  his  high  purpose  was  swiftly 
overthrown  ;  his  ambitious  sons  opposed  him,  quarrelled 
with  him,  defied  him,  assailed  and  dethroned  him;  and  af- 
ter a  stormy  reign  of  twenty-six  years,  during  which  he 
many  times  wished  to  give  up  his  crown  and  become  a 
monk.  Louis  the  Well-intentioned  died,  in  the  summer  of 
the  year  H-10,  on  one  of  the  little  islands  in  the  river  Rhine, 
a  discrowned,  defeated,  and  sorrowing  King,  conquered  by 
his  sons. 

The  great  empire  his  father  had  left  him  was  speedily 
broken  asunder,  and  from  its  remains,  after  long  years  of 
disorder  and  of  blood,  came  at  last  the  nations  of  France 
and  Germany — the  outgrowth  of  that  vast  heritage  of  pow- 
er which  the  son  of  Charlemange  had  received  from  bis- 
mighty  father,  but  had  neither  wit  nor  will  enough  to  gov- 
ern or  hold  unbroken. 

A  noble  man  in  many  ways  was  Louis,  the  son  of  Charle- 
magne. But  he  lived  in  advance  of  his  times,  for  stormy 
seas  demand  a  strong  hand  at  the  helm,  and  great  matters 
require  the  head  to  plan  and  the  will  to  do.  In  all  of  these 
requirements  for  royalty  was  Louis  deficient;  and  while 
history  accords  him  praise  for  honesty  of  purpose,  gentle- 
ness of  heart,  good  intentions,  and  lofty  aims,  it  still  writes 
him  down  as  an  unsuccessful  ruler,  because  a  weak-willed 
son  could  not  uphold  the  heritage  of  a  father  who  indued 
was  great. 


OAKLEIQH. 


BY  ELLEN  DOUGLAS  DELAND 


CHAPTER     IX. 

THE  last  excitement  of  the  summer  before  school  began 
•was  a  river  picnic,  given  by  Gertrude  Morgan.    A  note 
was  brought  to  Edith  one  afternoon  which  ran  thus: 

"Mv  DEAREST  EDITH,  — Will  you,  Cynthia,  Jack,  and 
Neal  Gordon  join  us  on  the  river  to-morrow?  My  cousins, 
Tom  and  Kitty  Morgan,  are  here,  and  another  fellow,  aw- 
fully nice,  that  Tom  brought  with  him,  and  we  want  to  do 
something  to  entertain  them.  This  is  such  perfect  weather 
for  the  river.  We  will  come  up  from  Brentou  early,  and 
reach  Oakleigh  before  noon.  You  can  join  us  in  your 
boats,  and  we  will  go  higher  up  above  the  rapids  for  din- 
ner. If  you  will  bring  your  chafing-dish  and  your  alcohol 
lamp  for  the  coffee  it  is  all  I  ask.  On  the  whole,  you  need 
not  bring  the  lamp.  We  will  build  a  fire.  But  the  chafing- 
dish  would  be  nice.  .Do  come!  Don't  f  nil.  A  u .  reroir  un- 
til to-morrow  at  about  twelve.  Devotedly, 

"  GERTRUDE. 

"  P.S. — I  am  sure  you  will  lose  your  heart  to  Tom's  friend. 
I  have !" 

The  next  day,  shortly  before  noon,  the  Franklins  were 
awaiting  their  friends  on  the  Oakleigh  boat -landing. 
They  had  two  canoes,  one  that  the  family  had  owned  for 
a  year  or  two,  and  another  that  Mrs.  Franklin  had  given 
her  brother  on  his  birthday. 

Baskets  were  packed  in  the  boats,  containing  the  chafing- 
dish,  some  sandwiches,  and  delicious  cake  that  Mrs.  Frank- 
lin had  had  made  as  her  contribution  to  the  picnic,  and  a 
large  box  of  candy  which  Neal  had  bought. 

It  was  a  glorious  day.  The  September  sun  shone  bright- 
ly, and  a  trifle  warmly,  on  the  dancing  river.  The  gay 
foliage  along  the  banks — for  the  autumn  tints  had  come 
early  this  year — was  reflected  in  the  clear  water,  and  a 
gentle  wind  stirred  the  white  birches.  An  army  of  crows 


had  encamped  near  by,  ami  the.  woods  rang  with  their 
cawing  as  they  carried  on  an  important  debate  among 
themselves. 

Presently  arou  IM  I  il urve  '• <•  ihe  ;nl\  ance  ymmi  of 

the  picnic,  a  canoe  containing  Dennis  Mori;.-!!!  and  his 
cousin  Kitty,  while'  closely  following  them  was  another, 
paddled  by  Tom  Morgan,  in  which  sat  iJerinide  and  a 
stranger. 

They  all  waved  their  hats  and  handkerehM's,  and  when 
they  came  within  speaking  distance  Gertrude  shouted  • 

"Isn't  it  fun?  Such  a  perfect  day,  and  more  fellows 
than  girls!  You  know  my  cousins,  don't  you,  except 
Neal?  Kitty  and  Tom,  let  me  present  Mr.  Gordon,  and 
this  is  Mr.  Bronsou.  The  Misses  Kdith  and  Cynthia  Frank- 
lin, Mr.  Tony  Brouson.  There,  now,  did  I  do  it  correctly? 
Did  I  mention  the  ladies'  names  first,  and  then  the  gentle- 
men's? I  picked  up  a  book  on  etiquette  in  a  shop  the 
other  day,  and  it  said  you  must." 

Every  one  laughed,  and  no  one  noticed  but  Cynthia  that 
Neal's  face  darkened  when  he  heard  Bronsou's  name  and 
saw  him  for  the  first  time.  Of  course,  she  knew  at  once 
who  he  was. 

"There  ought  to  bo  a  grand  change  of  partners,"  con- 
tinued the  lively  Gertrude,  "  but  it's  too  much  trouble. 
However,  Tom,  you  had  better  get  out  and  take  one  of  the 
Oakleigh  canoes,  and  an  Oakleigh  girl  and  Jack  can  get 
in  here — unless  Mr.  Bronson  would  rather  be  the  one  to 
change." 

This  was  said  with  a  coquettish  glance  at  Bronson,  who 
in  a  low  voice  hastened  to  assure  her  that  he  was  more 
than  satisfied  with  his  present  position. 

He  was  a  handsome  fellow  of  about  seventeen,  tall  and 
of  somewhat  slight  build,  with  very  regular  features.  His 
eyes  were  his  weak  point.  They  were  of  a  pale  greenish- 
blue,  and  were  too  close  together. 

His  greeting  to  Neal  was  most  cordial.     "  Holloa,  old 


THE    START    FROM    OAKLEIGH. 
841 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


fellow!"  lie  said;  "tins  is  a  piece  of  luck.  Miss  Morgan 
told  me  you  were  stopping  here,  so  I  was  prepared  for  the 
pleasure." 

"As  if  he  hadn't  known  it  before,"  muttered  Neal  to 
Cynthia,  as  lie  helped  her  iuto  the  canoe,  and  they  pushed 
oil'.  •'  He  sent  that  letter  here  and  he  got  mine  from  here. 
He's  a  hypocritical  ass." 

"Look  out, Neal!"  cautioned  Cynthia;  "  you  know  how 
sound  carries  on  the  water."  And  she  was  quite  sure  from 
the  expression  on  Brnnson's  face  that  he  had  heard. 

There  was  some  discussion  as  to  where  their  destination 
should  he. 

"Let's  go  as  high  as  we  can,"  said  Gertrude.  "Ahove 
Charles  River  village.'' 

"But  there  is  the  ' carry,'"  objected  her  liruther. 

"What  of  that?     We've  often  carried  liefnre." 

"Not  with  an  average  of  one  fellow  to  a  boat.  No;  I 
say  we  stop  the  other  side  of  the  small  rapids.  If  any  one 
wants  to  explore  above  there  on  his  own  account  he  can 
do  so." 

It  was  finally  settled  thus,  and  the  party  set  forth.  It 
Tvas  a  pretty  sight.  The  cedar  canoes,  with  gay  carpets 
and  cushions,  and  freight  of  girls  and  hoys  in  white  boat- 
ing costumes,  gave  the  needed  touch  of  life  to  the  peace- 
ful Charles  River.  So  Mrs.  Franklin  thought  when  she 
came  down  to  see  them  off. 

"  I  have  not  been  invited,"  she  said,  "hut  I  really  think 
I  must  drive  up  this  afternoon  and  see  your  encamp- 
ment." 

"Oh,  do,  Mrs.  Franklin!"  cried  Gertrude,  enthusiasti- 
cally. "We  would  just  love  to  have  yon  come,  and  we 
ought  to  have  a  chaperon,  though  we  are  all  brothers  and 
sisters  and  cousius!  She  is  the  most  perfect  creature.'1 
she  added  to  Bronson,  as  they  moved  off.  "You  know 
she  is  the  Franklins'  step -mother.  Isn't  she  a  dear, 
Jack?" 

Jack,  who  was  paddling,  acquiesced.  Brouson  sat  at 
ease  in  the  bow.  He  was  always  lazy.  Neal,  though 
averse  to  hard  work  which  was  work  only,  was  ready  for 
anything  in  (lie  way  of  athletics.  He  was  now  an  ac- 
complished paddler,  and  had  already  far  outstripped  the 
others. 

Their  destination  was  some  two  or  three  miles  up  the 
river.  The  water  was  low,  and  Cynthia  kept  a  sharp  look- 
out for  rocks. 

"Keep  to  the  left  here,  Neal,"  she  directed;  "that 
Jedge  runs  all  across  the  river." 

"I  bet  those  Brentou  fellows  will  scrape  going  through 
here.  Not  one  in  a  hundred  would  take  the  left.  I  haven't 
scraped  once  since  I  had  the  canoe.  The  bottom  is  as 
smooth  as  the  day  she  came,  and  that  is  saying  a  good 
deal  when  the  river  is  as  low  as  it  is  now." 

They  skirted  a  huge  oak-tree  which  had  fallen  half 
across  the  river,  and,  passing  through  some  gentle  rapids, 
reached  the  cleared  shady  spot  on  the  bank  where  they 
were  to  eat  their  luncheon.  The  others  soon  arrive.il,  and 
preparations  were  immediately  begun  for  building  a  fire. 
The  hoys  explored  the  neighborhood  for  dry  sticks,  and  a 
cheerful  little  blaze  was  soon  crackling  away  on  the  bank. 
I'otatoes  had  been  buried  beneath  to  roast  in  the  ashes, 
and  the  coffee-pot,  filled  with  water  from  a  neighboring 
spring,  was  placed  above.  Dennis  Morgan,  whose  coffee 
was  far-famed  and  unrivalled,  superintended  this  part  of 
the  work. 

The  girls  unpacked  the  baskets,  and  spreading  a  table- 
cloth, arranged  the  goodies  most  temptingly  thereon. 

"Edith,  you  must  do  the  oysters  on  the  chafing-dish," 
said  Gertrude;  "no  one  does  them  like  you." 

"Oysters!  Have  you  really  got  oysters?  How  per- 
fect!" cried  Cyuthia,  who,  laden  with  cups  and  saucers, 
was  stumbling  over  some  stray  boughs  at  the  imminent 
risk  of  herself  and  the  crockery. 

"Let  me  help  you,  Miss  Franklin,"  said  Brouson,  com- 
ing languidly  forward. 

"Oh  no,  thanks!"  returned  Cynthia,  tartly.  "I  would 
not  trouble  you  for  the  world.  You  have  quite  enough  to 
do." 

Dennis  Morgan,  who  heard  her,  turned  away  to  hide  a 


laugh.  Bronson  had  been  leaning  against  a  tree  uiu;l  of 
the  time  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 

"Come,  now,  don't  be  too  hard  on  a  fellow,  Miss  Frank- 
lin. I'll  do  anything  you  ask.  A  fellow  feels  kind  of 
out  of  place,  don't  you  know,  with  so  many  working." 

"Really!  Well,  if  you  are  truly  anxious  to  make  your- 
self useful,  perhaps  you  will  get  some  ferns  to  decorate 
the  table  ?" 

"  Certainly,"  said  Brouson,  looking  about  him  in  a  help- 
less way  :  "  will  these  do?"  and  he  broke  off  a  large  brake. 

"No,  of  course  not.  The  ones  I  want  grow  at  quite  a 
distance  from  here,  over  in  those  -woods  there,"  pointing. 
"  Please  get  some." 

"Oh,  Miss  Franklin,  so  far?  But  you  will  go  with  me, 
of  course." 

'"Of  course,'  did  I  hear  you  say?"  asked  Cynthia, 
straightening  herself  from  her  arrangement  of  the  table 
and  standing  very  erect,  with  a  bottle  in  one  hand  and  an 
olive  on  the  end  of  a  fork  in  the  other.  "What  can  you 
be  thinking  of?  Of  course  not  I  am  busy.  But  you 
have  no  time  to  lose  if  you  want  to  get  them  here  before 
lunch  is  ready.  It  is  a  good  half-mile  there  and  back." 

"When  Miss  Franklin  commands  I  have  but  to  obey," 
said  Bronson,  with  a  bow,  though  there'  was  a  disagreeable 
light  in  his  steely  eyes.  "Who  will  take  pity  on  me 
and  go  with  me?  Miss  Morgan,  surely  you  will  be  so 
good  ?" 

Gertrude  was  much  pleased  at  being  singled  out  by  the 
guest  of  the  occasion,  and  although  she  knew  that  the 
ferns  which  were  growing  in  profusion  all  about  them 
would  adorn  the  table  just  as  well,  she  gave  no  hint  of 
it,  for  she  was  not  averse  to  taking  the  walk  with  Brou- 
son. 

"Tell  me  about  the  Franklins,"  said  he,  as  he  took  her 
red  umbrella  and  opened  it.  "  Are  they  fond  of  their 
step-mother  .'" 

"  All  but  Edith,  and  she  can't  bear  her,  and  I  don't 
think  she  is  over-fond  of  Neal,  either.  Tell  rue  something 
about  him,  Mr.  Bronson.  He  is  a  school-mate  of  yours, 
you  say  ?" 

"Oh,  don't  ask  me!  I  think  it's  awfully  bad  form  for 
one  fellow  to  give  away  another,  don't  yon  know.  Of 
course,  some  fellows  would,  but  I'm  not  that  kind." 

Gertrude  admired  these  sentiments  extremely.  She 
wished  that  Bronsou  would  hold  the  umbrella  at  an  angle 
that  would  shield  her  a  little  more.  It  was  entirely  over 
him,  while  she  herself  was  in  the  sun,  and  it  was  rather 
warm  walking.  However,  it  was  a  pleasure  to  have  her 
umbrella  carried  by  such  an  elegant-looking  individual, 
even  though  she  derived  no  benefit  from  it. 

From  his  words  and  manner  Gertrude  gathered  the  idea 
that  Brouson,  if  he  chose,  could  tell  something  very  much 
against  Neal  Gordon,  but  his  high  sense  of  honor  held  him 
back. 

"What  a  lovely  fellow  he  is!"  thought  Gertrude;  then 
she  said  aloud,  "Of  course  I  would  uot  have  you  for  the 
world.  I  have  always  fancied  there  might  be  something, 
don't  you  know?" 

Now  Gertrude  had  really  never  fancied  anything  of  the 
kind,  and  yet  she  did  uot  dream  of  being  untruthful.  It  was 
an  idea  horn  of  the  moment.  Her  vanity  prompted  her  to 
agree  with  Branson,  who  was  apparently  such  a  very  charm- 
ing fellow. 

"Oh,  don't  say  that,  Miss  Morgan!  I  didn't  mean  to 
give  you  that  idea.  You're  so  awfully  clever,  you  have 
guessed  what  I  never  iuteuded  to  say.  Don't  ever  tell 
what  I  said,  will  you?  I  wouldn't  take  away  the  fellow's 
character  for  the  world." 

Gertrude  blushed  and  promised,  pleased  to  find  herself 
in  the  position  of  having  a  secret  with  Brousou.  She  told 
her  cousin  Kitty,  afterwards,  that  he  really  talked  most 
confidentially  with  her. 

When  they  returned,  luncheon  was  ready.  Cyuthia 
took  the  ferns  with  a  cool  "Thank  you,"  looked  at  them 
critically  and  somewhat  dubiously,  and  laid  them  on  the 
impromptu  table. 

"Terribly  anty,"  she  said,  shaking  a  spray  vigorously  in 
the  air.  "  Ugh  !  look  at  the  ants!" 


842 


HARPER'S  ROUND   TABLE 


"  Perhaps  those  that  grow  over  here  would  not  have  had 
any  ants,"  said  Bronson,  -  hut  I  am  so  much  obliged  to  you 
for  sending  me  for  these,  Miss  Franklin.  I  had  such  a 
•charming  walk.  It  quite  repaid  me,  even  though  you  are 
so  chary  of  your  thanks." 

"I'm  so  glad,"  returned  Cyuthia,  "but  not  as  glad  as  1 
am  famished." 

She  left  BrunsOD,  and  walking  around  to  the  farther  side 
of  the  table,  sat  down.  Neal  followed  her,  ami  presently 
they  were  all  seated  and  enjoying  the  dainty  meal. 
Never  was  there  such  clear  and  fragrant  coffee,  and  the 
rich  cream  that  the  Franklins  had  brought  mads  it  "equal 
to  the  nectar  of  Olympus,"  said  Bronsou;  he  was  addicted 
to  airy  speech. 

The  oysters  were  done  to  a  turn  and  seasoned  to  a 
nicety,  and  the  sandwiches  melted  in  one's  mouth.  In  the 
midst  of  the  feast  they  heard  the  sound  of  wheels  on  tin- 
bridge,  and  looking  up,  they  saw  Mrs.  Franklin,  who  was 
•driving  herself. 

"You  see  I  couldn't  stay  away,"  she  called  to  them. 
"  Jack,  come  tie  Bess  for  me,  and  then  let  mo  have  a  bite, 
if  you  have  anything  to  spare." 

Edith's  face  clouded.  "Why  did  she  hare  to  come  so 
soon  ?"  she  thought,  and  her  expression  was  not  lost  on 
Brousou. 

"  So  this  is  the  rich  sister  and  step-mother,"  thought 
Brouson  ;  "  and  the  eldest  daughter  doesn't  like  her  com- 
iug.  Now,  I  don't  exactly  sec  why  Gordon  can't  settle  the 
balance  if  she  has  such  a  pile.  But  I'll  lie  low  and  work 
him  easily." 

Ilr  watched  his  opportunity,  and  after  luncheon  he  fol- 
lowed Neal  to  the  river-bank,  where  he  was  getting  a  pail 
of  water  for  dish-washing  purposes. 

"  I  say,  Gordon,  old  fellow,  I  haven't  had  a  chance  before 
to  thank  you  for  sending  me  the  fifty.  You  see  I  was  in  a 
confounded  hole  myself,  and  there  was  no  way  out  of  it  but 
to  ask  you.  I  hated  to  dun  you.  As  for  the  rest,  there's 
no  hurry  about  that  whatever." 

Neal  looked  at  him.  His  brown  eyes  could  be  very 
searching  when  occasion  required.  Bronsou  stooped,  and 
picking  up  aflat  stone  from  the  little  beach  on  which  they 
were  standing,  he  tossed  it  across  the  river. 

"  Five  skips,"  said  he,  lightly,  as  he  turned  away. 

"  Hold  on  a  minute,"  said  Neal.  "  Your  offer  is  very 
kind,  but  you  may  be  pretty  sure  that  I'll  pay  you  as  soon 
as  I  can.  I've  no  wish  to  be  under  obligations  to  you  any 
longer  than  is  necessary." 

••  As  you  like,"  returned  Bronson,  with  a  shrug.  "  I  only 
thought  it  might  ease  your  mind  to  know  that  there's  no 
.actual  hurry.  Ah,  Miss  Franklin,"  as  Cynthia  drew  near, 
"  can't  I  persuade  you  to  go  out  ou  the  river  with  me  ?" 

"  I  am  afraid  not..  I  should  think  that  you  hadn't  pad- 
dled a  great  deal,  as  I  noticed  that  you  took  your  ease 
coming  up." 

"Miss  Franklin,  I  never  should  have  imagined  that  you 
were  timid  on  the  water.  How  little  one  can  tell !" 

"  I  am  not  a  bit  timid,  but  I  don't  care  to  be  upset." 

'•  Upset!"  laughed  Bronson.  "  Why,  I've  been  upset,  a 
dozen  times.  lu  such  a  shallow  ditch  as  this  it  wouldn't 
make  nfiich  difference,  as  long  as  we're  suitably  dressed." 

Cynthia  looked  at  him  slowly,  criticisingly,  scornfully. 
Thru  she  said  : 

"  I  should  think  bathing  clothes  were  the  only  things 
suitable  for  upsetting.  And  the  Charles  River  isn't  a 
ditch.  Of  course  you  didn't  know,  and  we  can  pardon  the 
ignorant  a  good  deal." 

Bronson  turned  away  and  left.  them. 

"That  last  was  a  scorcher," chuckled  Neal,  who  hail  been 
listening  attentively.  "  If  there  is  one  thing  Bronson  hates 
.above  another,  it  is  to  be  thought  not  to  'know  it  all,'  and 
he  caught  on  to  wluvt  you  meant." 

Cynthia,  however,  felt  a  little  remorseful.  She  was  quite 
sure  that  she  had  been  rude.  Bronson  was  a  .stranger,  and 
should  have  been  treated  with  the  politeness  due  to  such. 
But  then  he  was  Ncal's  enemy,  and  Cynthia  could  never 
be  anything  but  loyal  to  Neal.  Thus  she  soothed  her  cou- 
acience. 

When  luncheon  had  been  cleared  away  and  the  baskets 


packed  to  go  home,  Bronson  asked  Kdith  if  she  would  go 
out  with  him  mi  the  river. 

"Just  for  a  little  paddle,  Miss  Franklin,"  he  said.  "  Do 
come !" 

Cynthia  heard  him,  and  she  frowned  and  shook  her  head 
\  iiMiroiisly  at  her  sister,  hoping  that  she  would  not  gi>,  but 
Edith  had  110  intention  of  declining  the  invitation.  She 
said  yes,  with  one  of  her  prettiest,  smiles,  ami  accompa- 
nied Brouson  to  the  place  where  the  canoes  wen-  drawn  up 
on  the  bank. 

"I  suppose  it  doesn't  make  any  difference  which  one  1 
take,"  he  said,  and,  either  by  accident  or  design,  he  single.] 
out  Neal's  boat  and  put  it  into  the  water.  Kdith  steppe,! 
in,  and  then  watched  Bronsou's  movements  with  somo 
trepidation.  Ho  did  not  seem  to  know  much  about  the 
management  of  a  canoe,  and  they  rocked  alarmingly  with 
his  short,  uncertain  strokes. 

"  I'll  soon  get  the  hang  of  it,"  he  said,  reassuringly.  "  I 
have  never  been  much  ou  a  river,  but  it's  easy  enough." 

Cynthia  walked  along  the  bank,  watehing  them. 

'•  I  hope  you've  got  a  life-preserver,  Edith  !  Mr.  Bronson 
says  he  is  in  the  habit  of  upsetting — likes  it,  in  fact — and 
I'm  dreadfully  afraid  for  you.  You  know  you  can't  swim, 
and  Mr.  Brousou  will  never  he  able  to  save  yon  «»  inll  tin 
himself.  Do  be  careful  of  my  sister,  Mr.  Bronson.  The  ditch 
is  rather  deep  just  there.  Oh,  look  at  him  wiggle!"  she 
added  to  Neal,  who  had  followed  her. 

"And  the  fellow  has  taken  my  canoe!"  growled  Neal. 

"Poor  Neal!  Yon  boasted  too  soon.  You'll  never  again 
be  able  to  say  there  isn't  a  scratch  on  the  bottom." 

"I  only  hope  I  shall  ever  see  the  boat  again.  He'll 
probably  smash  her  all  to  smithereens." 

"I  suppose  it  makes  no  difference  if  Edith  is  'smashed 
to  smithereens,'  only  the  canoe,"  remarked  Cynthia,  de- 
murely. 

In  the  mean  time  Edith  was  haviug  an  exciting  voyage. 
Bronson  paddled  slowly  and  unevenly  up  the  river  until  he 
found  himself  in  the  rapids,  which  were  much  swifter  and 
more  dangerous  than  those  they  had  passed  through  on  the 
way  from  Oakleigh.  The  canoe  scraped  and  creaked  over 
the  rocks.  The  only  wonder  was  that  a  hole  was  not  stove 
at  once  in  the  bottom. 

They  were  in  the  midst  now  of  the  rushing  water.  Sud- 
denly the  boat  lodged  for  a  moment  on  a  rock,  and  swayed 
to  and  fro.  Down  to  the  very  water's  edge  went  first  one 
side  and  then  the  other.  A  half-inch  more  and  they  would 
have  capsized. 

Edith  sat  perfectly  silent,  scarcely  daring  to  breathe. 
Bronsou,  never  before  so  quick  in  his  movements,  righted 
the  craft,  and  with  a  vigorous  push  of  the  paddle  got  off  the 
dangerous  rock. 

"I — I  think  it  would  be  rather  pleasanter  to  tie  up," 
faltered  Edith. 

"Sodol.  Wish  you  hail  said  so  before.  Noi  that  I  mind 
exploring,  but  it's  hot  work  such  a  day  as  this  " 

The}'  found  a  shady  bank  and  drew  up  under  the  bnslies. 
Edith  gave  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"  Do  you  mind  if  I  smoke  '"  asked  Bronsuu.  get  I  ing  out  a 
silver  cigarette-case  with  a  ?i/ii«'air. 

••Oh,  not  at  all." 

"That's  nice.  Now  we  can  lie  comfortable.  I  am  so 

glad  you  came  with  me  tlii^  afterno for  I  want  to  talk 

to  yon,  Miss  Franklin.  1  want  to  talk  freely  to  you  about 
something." 

Edith's  faee  expressed  her  astonishment. 

"You  look  surprised,"  he  continued.  "  hut  \  ou  will  imt 
be  when  I  tell  you  what  it  is.  "i  on  are  the  only  person 
whom  1  can  ivl\  on  to  manage  the  matter  well  and  to  help 
me.  It  is  connected  with  Neal  i."i.lou." 

[TO    UK    CHlNTlNtlKI'.] 


AN    EXPLANATION. 

MAMMA.  "  Why  do  you  • in  evi 

thing  i"  eat,  Herhei  i  ."' 

lli:i:ni:i:i.   "  liccausc.  mamma.  I  :im  MI  small  that  I  cannot 
eai  enough  to  last  me  over  an  hour." 


843 


ON     THE     EARTH    AND     IN    THE     SKY. 


THE  EARTH   YESTERDAY,  TO-DAY,.  TO-MORROW. 

BY    N.    S.     SHALER, 
PEOFESSOR  OF  GEOI.OGV  AT  HARVARD  UNIVERSITY. 


FROM  ancient  days  men  have  been  seeking  to  learn 
the  history  of  the  earth  ;  how  it  came  to  be  set  in  the 
orderly  array  of  the  heavenly  bodies;  how  it  has  step  by 
step  come  forth  from  the  ancient  chaos  to  the  existing  per- 
fection ;  how  and  to  what  end  it  is  to  go  forward  in  ages 
beyond  our  own.  In  this  century  many  thousands  of  able 
men  have  been  engaged  in  these  inquiries. 

The  studies  of  astronomers  have  made  it  evident  that  in 
the  olden  days,  indeed  before  days  began,  at  a  time  which 
is  to  be  reckoned  as  many  hundred  million  years  ago,  the 
sun  and  the  other  bodies  of  the  solar  system,  including  our 
earth,  the  kindred  planets  and  their  satellites,  were  parts 
of  a  great  mass  of  vapor  or  star  dust,  which  extended 
throughout  the  spaces  in  which  these  spheres  now  swing 
about  the  sun.  As  time  went  on  this  nebulous  mass, 
just  like  many  such  masses  which  the  telescope  reveals 
in  the  distant  heavens,  drew  together,  because  its  par- 
ticles were  impelled  by  gravitation  towards  the  central 
point,  and  as  it  contracted  it  began  to  revolve,  much  as 
our  earth  and  the  other  spheres  as  well  now  turn  on  their 
axes.  Thus  turning,  it  divided  into  successively  formed 
rings,  each  of  which  in  time  broke  up,  the  matter  of 
the  ring  gathering  into  a  separate  planet.  At  first  this 
planet,  like  the  original  mass,  was  gaslike,  and  when  sepa- 
rated from  the  sun  it  began  to  gather  in  on  itself,  in  most 
cases  forming  rings,  which  in  time  were  to  alter  into  the 
lesser  spheres — the  moons.  The  earth  and  all  the  planets 
lying  further  away  from  the  sun  have  these  little  bodies 
about  them,  but  in  one  case,  as  if  to  show  the  stages  of  crea- 
tion, the  unbroken  ring  remains,  forming  the  magnificent 


circles  which  girdle  Saturn.  When,  in  the  history  of  these 
wonderful  processes  of  growth  which  have  taken  place 
in  our  solar  system,  our  earth  parted  from  the  shrinking 
sun,  the  separate  life  of  the  sphere  began.  In  the  course 
of  ages  it  set  ott'  the  mass  of  the  moon,  and  after  that  pro- 
cess was  effected  by  further  shrinking,  it  was  reduced  from 
a  body  several  hundred  thousand  miles  in  diameter  to  a 
relatively  small  sphere.  Such  are  the  steps  which  led  to 
the  birth  of  nnr  planet. 

As  the  earth's  matter  gathered  into  a  smaller  bulk,  its 
heat  was  greatly  increased,  so  that  for  a  time  it  was  a  hot, 
shining  star  like  the  sun.  Gradually,  however,  it  parted 
with  so  much  of  its  heat  that  it,  as  we  may  say,  froze  over 
or  became  covered  with  a  solid  crust  which  soon  became 
cool  enough  to  permit  the  waters  hitherto  in  the  state  of 
steam  to  descend  upon  the  surface  of  the  sphere.  AVith 
this  descent  of  the  waters,  which  led  to  the  formation  of 
the  seas,  another  stage  of  great  importance  in  the  history 
of  the  earth  began.  In  the  earlier  ages  the  heat  of  the 
earth,  which  came  from  within  its  mass,  was  so  great  that 
the  temperature  coming  from  the  sun  was  of  no  conse- 
quence, but  when  the  earth  acquired  a  crust  of  cold  rocks, 
a  new  period  began,  that  in  which  the  solar  heat  was  there- 
after to  be  the  source  of  most  of  the  movements  that 
occurred  in  this  limited  world.  Thenceforward  to  the  pres 
ent  day,  and  yet  on  through  the  ages,  the  sun  and  earth, 
are  linked  together  in  their  actions  in  a  marvellously  en- 
tangled way. 

When  the  sun's  heat  began  effectively  to  work  on  the 
earth  in  the  manner  which  we  now  behold,  the  winds  be- 


A    RING    THROWN    FROM    THE    SUN    FORMING   A    SEPARATE    PLANET. 

844 


THE    ICE    SHEET    WAS    DEEP    ENOUGH    TO    FLOW   OVER    THE    TOP   OF    MOUNT    WASHINGTON. 


gau  to  blow,  the  ocean  waters  under  their  influence  to  cir- 
culate currents,  and  the  moisture  to  rise  into  the  air  to  be 
carried  to  and  fro  and  to  fall  as  rain.  It  seems  likely  that 
these  movements  of  air  and  water,  which  we  know  to  be 
due  to  the  action  of  the  sun's  heat,  took  place  at  first  upon 
the  surface  which  was  everywhere  covered  by  the  ocean, 
avast  continuous  sea  through  which  the  lauds  had  not  yet 
pierced,  and  in  which  living  creatures  had  not  begun  to 
dwell.  This  universal  field  of  waters  could  not  have  long 
continued,  and  this  for  the  reason  that  certain  changes  iu 
the  earth  itself  brought  about  the  creation  of  broad  folds 
on  the  sea-bottom,  which  grew  upward  until  dry  lands  ruse 
above  the  level  of  the  waters.  The  way  iu  which  this  pro- 
cess took  place  can  in  general  be  easily  understood. 

After  the  earth  had  cooled  to  the  point  where  its  outer 
parts  were  what  we  term  cold,  and  the  whole  of  its  mass 
approximately  solid.it  remained  as  it  does  to-day,  exceed- 
ingly hot  iu  its  central  portions,  and  therefore  kept  on 
slowly  cooling.  What  we  call  the  outer  or  crust  part,  he- 
cause  it  had  already  become  cool,  had  little  heat  to  lose. 
The  greater  portion  of  the  temperature,  which  crept  away 
into  the  frigid  places  of  the  heavens,  where  the  thermom- 
eter is  always  some  hundred  degrees  below  the  freezing- 
point,  came  from  the.  interior  of  the  sphere,  lieeanse  of 
this  cooling  iu  the  deeper  parts  of  the  earth  the  mass  shrunk 
in  its  interior  portion,  while  the  outer  part,  losing  less 
heal,  because  it  had  less  to  lose, did  not  contract  to  any- 
thing like  the  same  extent.  Thus  it  ra about  that  this 

crust  portion  which  forms  the  surface,  and  that  which  is 
below  to  the  depth  of  many  miles,  were  forced  to  wrinkle  in 
order  to  tit  the  diminished  centre.  The  action  may  be  com- 
pared, in  a  way,  to  what  takes  place  when  in  an  apple  or 
other  similar  fruit  or  vegetable  with  a  distinct  skin  the 
wafer  dries  out  of  the  interior  parts.  The  skin  wrinkles,  lie- 
cause  it  has  little  water  to  lose.  Let  us  conceive  thai  the' 
heat  which  keeps  the  particles  of  matter  apart  in  our  earth 
answers  to  the  water  which  separates  the  solid  portions  of 
the  fruit,  and  the  likeness  becomes  clear. 


When  the  great  wrinkles  of  the  earth's  crust  were 
high  enough  to  bring  their  surfaces  in  part  above  the  level 
of  the  oceau,  another  important  stage  in  the  history  ot 
the  sphere  was  begun.  Before  that  time,  the  «atn  «  hid 
the  sun's  heat  had  lifted  into  the  air,  and  sent  liacK  to  tin 
earth  in  the  form  of  rain,  had  fallen  into  the  ocean  \vh.  n. . 
it  came  without  in  any  way  affecting  the  solid  parts  of  tin 
crust.  But  now  a  portion  of  it  came  down  on  what  we 
call  the  dry  laud,  making  the  beginning  of  the  rivers  and 
the  lakes,  and  iu  its  course  to  the  sea  wearing  away  the 
rocks  over  which  it  flowed,  conveying  the  debris  to  the 
oceans,  where  it  served  to  I  mild  layers  of  rocks  upon  the  bol 
torn,  which  with  the  further  upward  growth  of  the  conti- 
nent might  in  turn  rise  above  the  sea.  Thus  \\e  may 
fairly  reckon  the  appearance  of  the  land  aho\e  the  seas  as 
the  third  great  event  in  the  history  of  the  earth. 

After  the  earth  had  cooled  down  so  that  the  \\alers  hail 
something  like  their  present  temperature,  and  probably 
after  the  lands  had  appeared,  came  the  fourth  and.  on 
many  accounts,  the  most  inieiesting  episode  in  the  histon 
of  the  planet.  This  was  the  beginning  of  \\hat  we  call  life, 
those  little  temporary  gatherings  of  the  earth's  substauce 
which  rake  shape  in  the  form  of  animals  ami  plants.  As 
\et  we  do  not  know,  we  are  not  likely  indeed  ever  to  know  . 
just  wheu  or  how  this  change  from  the  earlier  stane  in 
which  the  earth  knew  no  living  creatures  to  that  in  which 
they  were  to  abound  in  seas  ami  on  land.  All  that  has 
been  found  out  concerning  the  matter  leads  us  to  hdie\e 

that  the  first  steps  led  to  the  creation  of  very  simple  S)M  n,  - 

— jellylike  forms  having  but  few  of  the  qualities  \\hidi  \\e 

com nl\   associate  with  living  beings,    lint  th.-  first  steps 

taken  in  the  i  in  memorable  ages,  the  others  followed  iu  quick 
succession,  so  that  the  earliest  fossil  remains  which  \\  e 
find  in  rocks  formed  on  the  sea-bottom,  a  hundred  million 

or  more  years  ago, show  that  the  earth  was  richly  p 

with  a  lowly  lite. 

Probably  at   some  time  alter  the  lands  hail  risen 
the  sea,  and  hail  begun  to  yield  their  waste  in  the  form  of 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


mud,  sand,  and  pebbles,  to  provide  strata  on  tlie  sea-bot- 
toms, volcanoes  began  to  break  forth  on  tlie  sea-bottom  and 
along  the  margins  of  the  continents.  These  strange  out- 
bursts, mainly  of  steam,  but  often  accompanied  by  molten 
rock,  appear  to  owe  their  formation  to  the  accumulation  of 
beds  on  the  bottom  of  the  ocean,  which  as  they  are  formed 
are  to  a  great  extent  filled  with  water.  Accumulated  to 
A  thickness  of  many  miles,  the  water  in  the  lower  part  of 
these  strata  gradually  becomes  exceedingly  heated.  In 
the  end  it  breaks  forth  in  steam,  having  a  temperature 
quite  as  hot  as  molten  iron,  so  that  it  may  melt  ordinary 
rocks. 

The  beginning  of  volcanic  action  on  the  earth  was 
in  a  way  important,  though  the  event  is  less  noteworthy 
than  any  of  those  which  have  beeu  previously  remarked, 
for  tremendous  as  a  volcanic  eruption  may  be  (that  of 
Kratakoa  in  1883  shook  a  large  part  of  the  earth's  surface, 
perturbed  all  its  atmosphere,  and  sent  its  dust  to  every 
part  of  the  world),  they,  after  all,  are  not  leading  fea- 
tures in  the  earth's  history,  but  rather  incidents.  It,  is 
otherwise  with  the  last  great  physical  event  in  the  history 
of  the  earth,  which  we  shall  now  have  to  consider. 

As  the  earth  became  divided,  so  that  there  were  a  num- 
ber of  continents  and  oceans,  its  climate  became  diversi- 
fied. This  was  in  part  accomplished  by  the  changes  in  the 
course  of  the  ocean  currents,  such  as  our  Gulf  Stream;  in 
part,  it  may  have  been  by  slight  variation  iu  the  sun's  heat. 
However  brought  about,  from  very  ancient  days  to  the 
present  time  large  portions  of  the  earth's  surface  have  oc- 
casionally had  climatal  conditions  which  cause  the  rainfall 
to  descend  in  the  form  of  snow,  the  snow  falling  in  such 
quantities  that  it  did  not  melt  away  in  the  summer  season. 
This  condition  now  exists  about  either  pole,  and  to  a  cer- 
tain extent  on  the  high  mountains,  even  those  of  tropical 
lands. 

From  time  to  time,  owing  to  the  variable  adjust- 
ments of  climate,  these  periods  of  excessive  snow  have  en- 
duivd  for  ages,  in  which  the  glacial  sheet  has  extended  iu 
either  hemisphere  far  towards  the  equator.  In  our  present 
day  the  earth  is  just  escaping  from  the  last  of  these  won- 
derful ice  epochs.  At  a  time  so  recent  that  it  may  be 
called  a  geological  yesterday  the  greater  part  of  Europe 
and  of  North  America  was  buried  beneath  accumulations 
of  snow,  or  rather  of  ice  formed  from  it,  the.  sheets  having 
iu  places  the  depth  of  u  mile  or  more,  and,  according  to 
their  strange  nature,  moving  slowly  over  the  surface,  crush- 
ing and  grinding  the  rocks  as  they  went,  until  the  ice 
either  reached  the  sea,  where  it  would  float  off  as  icebergs, 
or  a  place  on  the  land  where  it  was  far  enough  south  to  be 
melted  away. 

On  the  surface  of  North  America  the  ice  sheet,  the  rem- 
nant of  which  still  covers  Greenland,  expelled  all  life  from 
the  region  of  Canada  and  the  United  States  from  a  line  a 
little  to  the  east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  in  general 
north  of  the  Ohio  and  the  Mississippi  rivers  to  the  sea-coast. 
It  was  deep  enough  to  How  over  the  top  of  Mount  Wash- 
ington in  New  Hampshire,  and  a  primitive  man  (for  there 
were  such  in  those  days)  might  possibly  have  journeyed 
over  all  the  realm  without  discerning  the  least  trace  of  the 
earth's  cock  surface,  for  even  the  higher  mountains  were 
buried. 

We  do  not  yet  know  bow  many  of  these  glacial  periods 
t  here  have  been,  or  whether  they  occur  at  the  same  time  in 
both  the  northern  and  southern  hemispheres,  but  it  is  clear 
that  they  have  been  of  frequent  occurrence.  Iu  the  inter- 
vals between  the  ice  epochs  warm  conditions  appear  to 
have  prevailed  even  up  to  the  pole  of  the  hemisphere, 
which  was  shortly  afterwards  to  experience  the  dreadful 
winter  of  an  ice-time.  Thus,  at  a  period  which  in  its  geo- 
logical sense,  was  not  long  before  the  last  glacial  epoch,  the 
Greenland  district  bore  a  forest  much  like  that  which  now 
exists  in  parts  of  the  Southern  States  of  this  country.  It 
seems  probable  from  the  history  of  the  past  that  the  next 
revolution  iu  our  northern  hemisphere  will  dissipate  the 
ice  about  the  arctic  pole, and  make  a  wide  realm  now  uniii- 
liabitahlc  to  man  tit  for  his  use. 

The  foregoing  little  sketch  of  a  feiv  of  the  great  events 
•of  the  earth's  history  does  not  take  into  account  the  great- 


est of  them  all,  the  coining  of  man.  But  the  conditions 
which  surround  the  appearance  of  this  flower  of  the  earth 
are  as  yet  so  imperfectly  known  that  they  cauuot  well  be 
considered. 


HINTS   TO    YOUNG   BOTANISTS. 

MY  CAROLINE  A.  CREEVY. 

ROOTS. 

TXT  HEN  we  are  about  to  do  a  thing  thoroughly  and  sys- 
VV  tematically  we  often  say  we  will  "begin  at  the  root 
of  the  matter."  That  is  because  the  root  of  a  plant  is  sup- 
posed to  be  the  first  thing  in  its  life.  It  is  indeed  the 
foundation,  the  substructure  of  a  plant,  but  not  strictly 
the  first  thing  that  starts  to  grow.  The  little  stem  feels 
the  first  quiver  of  life,  and  the  root  follows.  You  can  see 
the  little  stem,  or  eanlifle,\n  fat  seeds  like  squash  and 
melon,  beans  aud  pease.  Split  a  squash  seed,  aud  between 
the  two  fat  sides  the  caulicle  lies  cozily  tucked,  like  a  tiny 
tail  or  handle.  Plant  a  squash  seed  in  the  earth.  The 
caulicle,  fed  by  the  two  fat  sides,  pushes  its  way  upward 
into  the  air,  making  a  stem  with  leaves,  and  finally  a  big 
vine,  while  from  its  lower  end  the  root  develops  and  pushes 
itself  as  fast  as  possible  into  the  earth. 

The  roots  of  some  plants  are  small.  I  think  most  weeds 
make  pretty  large  and  strong  roots,  which  are  Lard  to  pull 
up.  But  when  a  tree  has  grown  to  its  full  size  its  roots 
are  almost  as  large  as  its  branches.  I  once  saw  a  fiue  old 
maple-tree  cut  down,  and  its  roots  dug  up  to  make  room 
for  a  cellar.  I  was  surprised  to  see  what  a  big  hole  the 
roots  made.  Two  men  dug  for  several  days  before  they 
had  the  roots  all  up. 

The  work  for  the  roots  to  do  is  to  drink  water.  The 
upper  half  of  the  plant  is  very  thirsty,  and  calls  constantly 
for  water.  The  roots  push  aud  dig  into  the  moist  soil, 
drink  in  water,  and  pass  it  up  by  a  sort  of  pumping  pro- 
cess. Only  think,  drinking  and  pumping!  That  is  what 
roots  do.  And  so  if  the  earth  is  dry,  and  the  roots  can 
liuil  nothing  to  drink,  the  plant  will  die.  But  after  a 
shower  see  how  glad  the  leaves  seem,  and  how  stiff  and 
straight  they  stand,  because  the  roots  are  sucking  up  great 
draughts  of  water. 

To  protect  roots  iu  their  hard  burrowing  work  a  little 
cap  of  hard  cells  is  fitted  over  their  tips.  Little  hairs 
grow  all  over  them,  whose  purpose  is  to  help  absorb  mois- 
ture. 

Some  thick  and  fleshy  roots  are  good  to  eat.  They  form 
many  of  our  best  vegetables.  Beets,  turnips,  parsnips,  aud 
carrots  are  such  roots.  They  belong  to  biennial  or  two- 
year  plants.  The  first  year  they  store  up  food  iu  their 
roots;  the  second  year  draw  upon  this  food,  aud  produce 
flowers  aud  fruit.  They  are  named  from  their  shapes. 
Fusiform,  like  radishes,  when  thicker  in  the  middle,  taper- 
in.n  at  both  cuds.  Carrots  are  cow ical,  thicker  at  the  top. 
Turnips  bulge  out  in  the  middle,  and  are  napiform.  When 
clustered  like  a  dahlia  the  roots  are  fawk-lt-J.  All  are  tup- 
roots,  or  main  roots.  Besides  these  primary  roots  there  are 
ercoudary.  You  may  have  noticed  secondary  roots  spring- 
ing from  the  joiuts  of  a  corn  -  stalk  above  ground.  The 
wonderful  banyan-tree  sends  down  roots  from  its  branches, 
making  new  trees,  until  one  tree  is  the  mother  of  a  colony. 

There  are  plants  which  take  their  nourishment  from  the 
air  alone,  and  not  from  the  soil.  They  need  roots  as  hold- 
fasts, not  as  drinking-cups.  Some  lovely  orchids  grow  in 
that  way.  Those  leathery  patches  which  you  have  seen 
on  old  fence-rails  and  rocks  are  lichens.  They  have  roots 
for  attachment  only,  and  such  are  called  aerial  root*. 

Then  there  are  cl'im bing  rootlets.  Look  at  the  poison- 
ivy,  but  do  not  touch  it,  and  you  will  see  it  climbing  over 
tree -trunks  and  fence- posts  by  means  of  rootlets.  The 
trumpet-creeper  will  show  yon  the  same  thing.  These 
rootlets  are  very  strong,  us  you  will  find  if  you  try  to  pull, 
us  I  did  once,  a  trumpet-creeper  out  of  a  grape-vine. 

A  large  class  of  plants  are  beggars  and  thieves.  This  is 
a  hard  thing  to  say  of  them,  but  what  would  yon  call  them 
when  they  press  their  roots  into  the  bark  of  other  plants 
and  suck  their  sap,  which  is  the  same  to  the  plant  as  life- 


840 


HARPER'S    HOI'M)   TABLE 


blood?  Why  can't  tliey  dig  in  the  soil  I'm-  themselves? 
Some  of  these  plants  wear  line  clothes,  and  look  innocent 
enough.  There  is  the  beautiful  yellow  fox-glove.  Many 
times  I  have  seen  it,  tall  and  showy  on  hill-sides  and  in 
woods.  But  they  were  root- parasites,  that  is,  fastened 
by  their  roots  on  the  roots  of  other  plants,  sucking  juices 
dishonestly.  The  delicate  purple  gerardia  sometimes  does 
the  same  thing.  So,  yon  SIT,  appearances  are  deceptive, 
arid  in  plants,  as  well  as  people,  yon  cannot  always  tell 
character  from  the  outside. 


"TucraassHBi 


PUDDING 
STICK 

...J^,-.3Cb,.^rfx--^«-^    ^iaK*&- 


This  Dejmrtmt 

be  plenserf    to  tin 
address  Editor, 


.Illiji-i  t     ; 


V..Hi,-\V.i,,u.,i.ni,,l  thrEiliti.nvil1 
i  possible.     Correspondents  should 


IT  does  not  surprise  me  to  find  a  number  of  bright  girls 
asking  for  directions  about  the  entrance  to  the  difficult 
road  of  authorship.  It.  is  quite  common  for  young  people 
to  think  that  nothing  on  earth  can  be  so  delightful  as  to 
write  songs  and  stories,  and  have  them  published  for  the 
world  to  read.  The  fact,  dear  girls',  that  many  of  you 
overlook,  is  that  no  trade  or  profession  or  business  is  ever 
learned  without  time,  study,  and  effort — what  I  might  call 
the  serving  of  an  apprenticeship.  Very  few  authors  suc- 
ceed at  the  beginning,  although  there  is  a  contrary  impres- 
sion. Even  those  who  seem  at  once  to  achieve  eminence 
have  really  been  getting  ready  for  their  work  all  their 
lives.  Von  can  see  what  I  meau  if  you  will  read  Miss  Al- 
cotl's  Lift'  uiitl  Li  tiers,  ar-  Mrs.  Burnett's  story  of  Tin'  Our  I 
Kiiriu  I  lie  lii'xt  of  -III,  or,  better  than  either,  a  charming  little 
essay  by  Roliert  Louis  Stevenson,  in  which  he  describes  the 
books  lie  read  as  a  boy,  and  the  pains  he  took  to  cultivate 
a  good  and  clear  style. 

IT  is  perfectly  right  for  any  reader  of  the  ROUND  TABLE 
to  wish  to  become  an  author.  In  days  to  come  the  youth- 
ful Knights  and  Ladies  for  whom  Kirk  Muuroe,  Ellen 
Douglas  Deland.  \V.  J.  Henderson,  Captain  Charles  King, 
and  your  friend  of  the  Pudding  Stick  are  now  writing,  will 
be  grown  men  and  women,  and  some  of  them  will  be  fur- 
nishing the  literature  of  the  next  generation.  I  cannot 
say  too  strongly  to  all  my  correspondents,  who  are  inter- 
ested in  this  subject,  be  patient,  be  fearless,  be  thorough. 
Do  not  be  in  haste  to  send  some  busy  editor  the  story  which 
you  have  just  written.  Never  send  anything  to  an  editor 
until  you  have  written  it  four  or  five  times  over,  and  are 
satisfied  that  it  is  the  very  best  thing  that  yon  can  do,  and 
that  it  is  expressed  in  the  briefest  possible  compass.  A 
very  good  school  for  aspiring  young  authors  is  found  in  the 
beautiful  little  amateur  papers  which  many  young  people 
publish  for  circulation  among  their  friends.  The  several 
school  and  college  literary  papers  arc  also  excellent  fields 
for  beginners  in  journalism.  Among  the  rising  authors 
of  the  day  I  know  a  half-dozeu  whoso  first  laurels  were 
gained  in  school  and  college  magazines. 

I  WOULD  like  to  suggest  that  some  of  you  who  belong 
to  Round  Table  Chapters  should  try  the  plan  of  having  a 
little  paper  in  connection  with  your  Chapter.  You  could 
easily  appoint  one  member  of  the  Chapter  the  editor,  then 
different  girls  and  boys  could  furnish  contributions.  In 
every  neighborhood  there  are  a  great  many  interesting 
things  happening  from  day  to  day,  so  that  your  local  col- 
nmu°might  be  very  spicy  and  entertaining.  You  could 
<nve  your  paper  an  attractive  name,  and  should  any  of  the 
members  possess  a  typewriter  you  could  have  as  many 
copies  made  each  week  as  you  have  subscribers.  Perhaps 
somebody  among  your  friends  has  a  little  hand-press  mi 
which  the  little  'paper  could  be  printed.  Subscribers 
would  be  willing  to  pay  two  or  three  cents  for  a  number 
of  the  paper,  and  thus  you  could  have  a  little  fund  over 
uses  for  the  charities  of  the  Chapter.  Wouldn't,  that 


be  charming?  I  cannot  enter  into  all  the  litllc  details  of 
such  an  enterprise,  but  if  any  of  you  shall  adopt  Ihis  sug- 
gestion I  hope  to  hear  all  about  il,  and  to  know  whether 
yon  think  that  il  pays.  I  once  knew  a  family  in  which  a 
little  home  paper  was  kept  up  for  years,  each  brut  her  and 
sister  in  turn  acting  as  editor,  and  dillerenl  members  of 
the  household  copying  out  the  matter.  They  had  a  serial 
story,  which  ran  on  in  the  most  exciting  \va\  tor  a  long 
lime,  and  on  Saturday  evenings  father,  mother,  children, 
and  friends  always  assembled  to  read  and  listen  to  the 
new  number.  This  paper  was  called  Tlir  /,'HM/  /;<•<-. 

A  I'KW  sentences  ago  I  said,  let  mo  know  if  yon  think  it 
pays.  Speaking  of  payment,  do  not  make  tin-  mistake  of 
supposing  that  I  principally  mean  payment  in  dollars  and 
cents.  The  money  one  earns  by  writing  is  the  smallest  part 
of  the  pleasure  it  gives.  Several  girls  inquire  of  me  what 
price  they  ought  to  put,  on  their  poems  and  stories,  and 
what  sort  of  letter  they  should  send  with  a  contribution 
•when  addressing  an  editor.  All  that  is  really  necessar\  in 
the  case  is  to  write  your  full  name  and  post-office  address 
plainly  at  the  top  of  your  opening  page,  in  the  right-hand 
corner.  In  brackets  at  the  other  side  you  may,  if  you  choose, 
write  "ottered  at  usual  rates."  Be  sure  always  to  write 
only  on  one  side  of  your  paper,  to  send  a  folded  and  never 
a  rolled  manuscript,  to  have  it  typewritten,  if  you  can  ;  if 
not,  to  have  your  writing  very  legible,  and  to  send  an  enve- 
lope addressed  to  yourself,  and  enough  stamps  to  pay  return 
postage  should  your  manuscript  be  declined.  The  stamps 
may  be  loose,  or  may  be  attached  to  the  envelope,  as  yon 
prefer.  As  a  rule  the  first  contributions  of  young  people 
are  worth  very  little  money,  and  it  is  not  good  form  to  set 
a  price  on  what  you  write  unless  you  are  an  author  of  as- 
sured reputation.  You  must  remember  that,  publishers- 
pay  for  work  according  to  its  market  value,  just  as  we 
pay  for  sugar  and  soap,  and  calico  and  note-paper,  chairs- 
and  tables,  or  anything  else  we  buy.  When  you  go  to  a 
shop  you  always  try  to  get  good  value  for  the  money  you 
give  in  return  for  goods.  It  is  the  same  with  articles  and 
poems  which  are  ottered  to  the  press.  Hundreds  and  thou- 
sands of  people  are  writing,  and  you  must  expect  to  face 
difficulties  and  have  a  struggle  before  yon  find  your  place,, 
even  if  you  are  very  well  prepared  for  it. 

I  WOULD  like  the  Chapters  of  the  ROUND  TABLE  which 
have  paid  me  the  honor  of  naming  themselves  for  me  to 
write  me  a  letter  through  their  secretaries.  I  have  a  reason 
far  asking  this  favor.  I  would  also  like  to  receive  copies 
of  amateur  papers,  published  by  young  people  who  read  I  lie 
ROUND  TABLE. 


0 


expenses  for  the  charities 


ON   BOARD    THE    ARK. 

BY     ALBERT    LEE. 

I'll  A  I'TK  i:     III. 

rriOMMY  often  wondered  afterwards   why  it  \\:is  that   lie 

\_     did  not  feel  frightened  when  he  found  himself  so  i  lose 

to  this  great  congress  of  wild  animals.     But  at  the  time  lie 

did  not  feel  in  the  least  alarmed,  and  he  ami  1 1 x-Pirate 

sat  together  for  some  time  under  the  oak  planning  as  to 
what  they  had  better  do.  Perhaps  Tommy  felt  no  fear,  be- 
cause all  the  animals  seemed  to  lie  on  such  good  icrms 
with  one  another,  and  so  gave  evidence  that  they  would 
not  harm  any  one  else.  The  little  bo\  noticed  the  Lion 
and  the  Lamb  lying  down  together;  the  Fox  was  pla\  ing 
tag  with  the  Geese  ("Ko\  and  (iccse,  1  suppose,"  thought 
Tommy);  the  Red  Wolf  Has  strolling  about,  aim  in  arm, 
with  a  bearded  Goat  and  his  kids:  and  hall' a  do/en  Mice 
were  having  all  sorts  of  fun  with  an  old  Tom  Cat  wh» 
wanted  to  sleep. 

"I  guess  the  only  thing  for  us  to  do,"  remarked  the  cs- 
Pirate  at  last,  ••  is  to  just  walk  over  and  go  aboard,  Ther.  '- 
no  use  sitting  here  any  longer.  We  have  not  any  iiiu- 


847 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


'WHAT    AKE    YOU    DOING    UP    I1ERE?     WHY    AREN'T    YOU    OUTSIDE?1' 


brellas,  and  it  is  liable  to  begin  to  rain  at  any  moment. 
Let's  try  our  luck." 

"Perhaps  it  would  be  best  for  us  to  walk  around  to  the 
other  side,"  suggested  Tommy.  "  There  doesn't  seem  to  be 
so  many  animals  there." 

His  companion  approved  of  this,  and  they  started  oft" 
together,  making  a  circuit  which  soon  brought  them  to 
the  other  side  of  the  huge  house-boat.  There  were  scarce- 
ly any  beasts  in  sight,  and  so  they  boldly  approached  the 
great  craft  which  towered  high  up  above  their  heads. 
When  they  had  come  quite  close,  the  ex-Pirate's  keen  eye 
caught  sight,  of  a  small  port-hole  near  the  stern,  and  after 
calling  Tommy's  attention  to  it  they  decided  to  try  to  get 
in  that  way.  The  port-hole  was  very  narrow,  and  it  was 
with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  the  two  managed  to 
squeeze  through.  But  they  succeeded,  nevertheless,  and 
found  themselves  in  a  sort  of  dark  chamber  where,  there 
was  a  ladder  that  led  to  the  upper  regions  of  the  Ark. 

"We're  all  right  now,"  said  the  ex-Pirate.  "Do  yon 
think  this  will  be  too  much  for  yon  ?" 

"What?"  asked  Tommy,  who  did  not  quite  understand. 

"The  ladder." 

"Not  a  bit.      Why:"' 

"  It's  more  than  you." 

"How  do  you  mean?"  asked  the  little  boy,  now  some- 
what puzzled. 

"You  are  a  lad,  aren't  you  ?"  said  the  ex-Pirate. 

"  Yes." 

"Well,  this  is  a  ladder." 

There  was  not  anything  that  Tommy  could  very  well 
answer  to  any  such  statement ;  but  then  he  had  long  since 
given  up  any  idea  of  following  the  peculiar  arguments  and 
reasonings  of  the  ex-Pirate.  Yet  in  order  to  show  him 
that,  even  if  the  ladder  was  more  than  he,  he  was  certainly 
equal  to  climbing  it.  he  seized  the  rungs  and  clambered  up. 
It  ended  at  a  trap-door  which,  when  lifted,  opened  into  a 
very  large  room  that  appeared  to  occupy  the  entire  length 
of  the  Ark. 

"Aha!"  exclaimed  the  ex-Pirate.  "This  is  where  they 
have  the  boxing-matches." 

"Will  they  have  any?"  asked  Tommy,  eagerly,  and  his 
eyes  opened  very  wide. 

"I  don't  know,"  returned  the  ex-Pirate,  "  but  this  is  the 
spar-deck." 

"Ho\v  did  you  get  here?"  suddenly  asked  a  familial- 
voice  from  behind  them,  which  so  startled  Tommy  that  he 


almost  stepped  into  the 
open  trap.  When  lie  look- 
ed around  lie  saw,  to  his 
great  joy,  that  it  was  the 
Sheep. 

"  Oh,  we  just  came,"  an- 
swered the  ex -Pirate, 
quickly.  "Things  come 
and  things  go,  you 
know." 

"  Yes,  I've  heard  that  be- 
fore," interrupted  the 
Sheep.  "  But  if  Noah 
catches  you,  he'll  put  you 
ashore.'' 

"  But  we  don't  want  to 
go  ashore,''  said  Tommy, 
who  at  seeing  his  old 
friend  the  Sheep  had  en- 
tirely recovered  from  his 
momentary  alarm. 

"  Well,  I'm  very  busy 
now, "continued  the  latter, 
"and  the  animals  will  be 
coining  in  pretty  soon.  If 
you  want  to  see  them,  you 
had  better  go  up  to  the 
other  end  of  the  Ark  and 
sit  on  a  rafter  over  the 
entrance.  But  don't  let 
the  Bull  see  yon.  He's  iu  a 
mighty  bad  humor.  Good- 

by,"  and  the  Sheep  trotted  off  and  disappeared  almost  as 
suddenly  as  he  had  come. 

"  Guess  we'd  better  do  that,"  said  the  ex-Pirate,  medita- 
tively. "  We  don't  want  to  get  put  out."  So  they  walked 
to  the  other  end  of  the  big  room,  being  very  careful  to 
make  as  little  noise  as  possible,  and  when  they  came  to 
the  large  arched  entrance  with  the  heavy  bolted  doors  the 
ex-Pirate  helped  Tommy  climb  up  a  post,  and  the  two  slid 
out  on  a  rafter,  from  which  they  could  obtain  a  first-rate 
view  of  anything  that  might  happen.  Just  below  where 
they  sat,  and  directly  opposite  them,  was  a  wiudow  with  a 
small  counter  iu  front  of  it  and  the  words  "Ticket  Office" 
painted  over  it.  Below  the  counter,  nearer  the  floor,  was 
another  window,  only  smaller — "for  the  little  animals,  I 
suppose,"  thought  Tommy.  When  their  eyes  had  become 
accustomed  to  the  semi-obscurity  of  their  surroundings 
they  found  that  they  were  not  the  only  occupants  of  bal- 
cony seats.  A  few  feet  away  from  them  sat  a  Gopher.  He 
wore  a  pink  sun-bonnet,  and  looked  somewhat  timidly  at 
the  intruders.  As  soon  as  the  ex-Pirate  saw  him,  he  said: 
"What  are  you  doing  up  here?  Why  aren't  you  out- 
side .'" 

"Lost  my  ticket,"  answered  the  Gopher,  timorously. 
"Lost  your  ticket?"  repeated  the  ex-Pirate. 
"Yes,  sir,"  continued  the  little  animal,  meekly.     "Not 
exactly  lost.  it.     I  put  it  iu  my  mouth,  and  forgot,  and 
swallowed  it.     I've  got  it  inside." 

"Oh,"  said  the  ex-Pirate.  "Well,  you'll  get  it  back  as 
soon  as  we  start." 

"Please  may  I  stay  ?"  asked  the  Gopher. 
"  Why.  certainly,"  replied  the  ex-Pirate,  affably,  waving 
his  hand  in  a  grandiose  way,  just  as  if  he  had  been  the 
proprietor  of  the  Ark ;  whereupon  the  Gopher  looked  much 
pleased  and  relieved,  and  settled  down  comfortably  again 
at  his  end  of  the  rafter. 

Just  then  the  shutter  of  the  ticket  window  was  thrown 
up  with  a  loud  hang  that  made  Tommy  jump,  and  the  Bull 
stuck  his  head  out  and  peered  up  and  down  the  large  room. 
He  was  a  very  fierce-looking  Bull,  and  he  wore  on  his  head 
a  cap  with  the  word  "Purser"  embroidered  on  it  in  gold 
letters. 

"All  aboard!"  he  bellowed,  in  a  voice  that  fairly  made 
the  timbers  tremble,  and  scared  the  Gopher  half  out  of  his 
wits.  And  then  some  one  from  the  outside  opened  the 
heavy  doors  and  the  animals  began  coming  in. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


848 


ilNTERSCHOIIASTIC 
'dSPORTi 


THE  ANNUAL  MEET  of  the  American  Canoe  Association, 
which  is  now  in  progress  on  Lake  Champlaiu,  is  de- 
cidedly the  most  important  sporting  event  of  the  year  to 
canoe  lovers.  For  the  past  week  hundreds  of  enthusiasts 
have  been  paddling  and  sailing  and  racing  off  Bluff  Point, 
and  every  known  kind  of  canoe  has  been  seen  on  the  water. 
It  is  only  twenty-live  years  since  canoeing  as  a  sport  found 
favor  in  this  country,  but  since  then  it  has  grown  steadily, 
and  now  there  are  cauoe  clubs  in  every  State.  Although 
the  cauoe,  both  as  a  paddling  and  a  sailing  craft,  is  dis- 
tinctly American  in  its  origin,  it  is  a  fact,  nevertheless,  that 
cauoe  cruising  and  the  sport  of  cauoe  sailing  were  intro- 
duced from  England.  About  thirty  years  ago  a  Scotchman 
named  John  MacGregor  built  a  canoe,  which  he  called  the 
Soh  Soy.  It  resembled  an  Esquimau  kayak,  being  low  and 
narrow  and  decked  all  over,  except  for  a  narrow  space  in 
the  middle.  It  had  a  small  lateen-sail,  but  the  mode  of  pro- 
pulsion used  most  by  MacGregor  was  his  two-bladed  pad- 
dle. In  this  queer  little  boat  he  explored  many  of  the 
waters  of  Great  Britain,  and  cruised  extensively  in  Holland, 
Germany, Norway,  and  Sweden,  meeting  with  many  adven- 
tures, an  account  of  which  he  afterwards  published  under 
the  title  of  A  Thousand  titles  in  the  Bob  Soy  Canoe.  He 
has  also  written  several  other  interesting  accounts  of  other 
trips.  The  most  delightful  account  ever  writteu  of  a  cauoe 
cruise,  however,  is  Stevenson's  Inland  Journey.  Any  young 


ALTHOUGH  MR.  VAUX,  one  of  the  must  experienced  of 
canoeists,  said,  "There  is  no  such  tiling  as  a  lirst  eaiuie," 
he  did  not  mean  that  there  was  no  such  thing  as  the  best 


• 


BIRCH-BARK  CANOES. 


SAILING    BEFORE    THE    WIND. 

kind  of  canoe  for  certain  purposes.  He  was  particulariz- 
ing. He  meant  that  it  was  impossible  for  any  man  to  tell 
another  what  particular  make  of  canoe  would  suit  his 
tastes  best.  It  really  depends  entirely  on  what  you  want 
to  do  with  your  boat.  If  you  wish  to  cruise  in  inland 
lakes  and  deep  open  rivers  where  there  is  plenty  of  wind, 
but  no  very  heavy  seas,  and  where  you  will  use  sail  and 
paddle  in  about  equal  proportion,  get  a  canoe  of  the  "  Nau- 
tilus" type.  But  for  narrow  streams  and  running  rapids 
I  should  recommend  a  "  Peterborough."  The  latter  are 
of  different  sizes  aud  varieties,  and  are  built  at  the  Cana- 
dian town  of  Peterborough.  They  are  modelled  after  the 
Indian  birch  -  bark  canoe,  aud  are  made  of  basswood  or 
cedar.  They  cost  from  $:iO  to  $50,  according  to  finish,  aud 
are  very  serviceable.  The  basswood  boats  are  not  so  liable 
to  leak  as  others. 

ANOTHER  ADVANTAGE  OF  THE  "  Peterborough  "  is  that  it 
will  carry  more  passengers  and  duthV  than  any  other  style 
of  cauoe,  and  can  easily  be  carried  over  land  or  around 
locks  if  yon  are  travelling  along  a  caual.  It  is  easy  to 
paddle,  sails  fast  before  the  wind,  and  is  the  best  craft  in 


man  who  has  the  slightest  inclination  toward  the  sail  and      , , 

the  naddle  will  surely  take  them  up  with  enthusiasm  after      the  world  to  shoot  rapids.     At  uight  it  can  be  drawn  up 
reading  these  books.  ou.  shore  and  turned  upside  down,  thus  making  a  dry  aud 


THE  CHOICE  OF  A  CBAFT  is  always  dif- 
ficult, especially  to  one  who  has  had  lit- 
tle or  no  experience  in  couoeing.  I  told 
last  week  how  an  inexpensive  canoe 
might  be  built  of  canvas,  but  for  cruis- 
ing purposes  a  boat  made  of  wood  is 
necessary.  It  is  taken  for  granted  that 
auy  one  who  can  afford  the  time  for  a 
cruise  can  also  afford  the  money  to  pur- 
chase a  suitable  craft  for  his  journey. 
A  good  cedar  canoe  nowadays  costs 
from  $80  to  $150,  but  boats  made  of 
less-expensive  woods  may  be  had  for  as 
little  as  $30.  The  building  of  these 
li-lit  canoes  has  become  such  a  big  busi- 
ness that  there  are  over  fifty  varieties 
made  now  where  there  were  only  half 
a  dozen  fifteen  years  ago.  But  in  spite 
of  all  the  varieties  there  are  only  about 
three  classes— tbe  racing-canoe,  the  pad- 
dling canoe,  and  the  cruising  canoe— 
•which  use  both  sail  aud  paddle. 


849 


HAKPER'S   EOUND   TABLE 


comfortable  shelter.  Tlie  "Nautilus"  style  of  canoe  is 
from  twenty-eight  to  thirty  iuches  wide  and  about  fifteen 
feet  long.  It  is  fitted  with  a  centreboard,  and  is  an  excel- 
lent cruising  craft.  It  will  curry  one  person  comfortably, 
and  two  at  a  pinch,  and  the  air-tight  compartments  forward 
and  aft  make  it  a  life-boat,  uusiukable.  Beneath  the  decks 
and  hatches  there  is  plenty  of  room  for  dry  stowage.  At 
night  the  owner  of  a  "Nautilus"  canoe  can  either  haul  his 
craft  ashore  or  anchor  in  deep  water.  In  the  latter  case, 
he,  hoists  his  canoe  tent  above  his  head,  unfolds  his  mat- 
tress, and  sleeps  comfortably  in  the  cockpit.  Personally, 
however,  I  prefer  to  land  and  pitch  camp. 

IT  is  ALWAYS  ADVISABLE  to  select  your  camping-ground 
and  be  in  camp  before  sunset.  Pnll  the  canoe  up  out  of 
water,  take,  your  duffle  out,  and  turn  the  boat  upside  down 
over  it.  Then  make  your  fire  ;  see  that  there  is  no  danger 
of  its  spreading,  and  that  the  breeze  is  blowing  the  sparks 
away  from  your  camp  or  your  canoe.  The  fire  well  started, 
take  a  pail  and  a  glass  jar  and  go  to  the  nearest  farm-honse 
for  milk  and  eggs.  When  you  get  back,  you  will  find  that 
the  tire  has  made'  a  nice  bed  of  coals  on  which  you  can  do 
your  cookiug.  Never  attempt  to  cook  over  a  blaze.  It 
sometimes  happens,  however,  that  the  ground  is  wet,  or 


CKU1SING    CANOE    UNDER    PADDLE. 

that  a  storm  will  interfere  with  your  fire.  For  such  emer- 
gencies it  is  well  to  have  an  alcohol  lamp  in  your  outfit, 
for  on  this  you  can  boil  enough  water  to  cook  eggs  and 
make  a  cup  of  cofi'ee,  and  if  you  are  an  expert  with  a  (.'hat- 
ing dish  yon  can  rival  the  best  of  city  restaurants.  But  it 
is  not  probable  that  yon  will  have  such  a  luxury  as  a  chaf- 
ing dish  among  your  equipments.  Yon  will  probably  have 
a  saucepan  instead — in  fact  it  is  necessary  that  you  should 
have  a  saucepan.  And  with  a  little  practice  you  can  cook 
almost  anything  in  the  latter  that  you  can  in  a  chafing  dish. 
The  other  necessary  cooking  utensil  is  a  coffee-pot.  With 
that  and  the  saucepan  and  a  small  kettle  yon  can  live 
very  comfortably.  There  are  a  number  of  small  books  of 
convenient  pocket  size  that  will  tell  yon  all  yon  want  to 
know  about  camp  cookiug.  This  is  a  good  subject  to  study 
up  before  starting  on  a  cruise. 

THE  SUPPLIES  THAT  A  CANOEIST  takes  with  him  in  his 
boat  should  consist  of  a.  few  pounds  of  sugar,  a  box  of  salt, 
three  or  four  pounds  of  ground  coffee  in  a  tin  box  with  a 
close-fitting  screw  top,  some  bacon,  a  pound  of  tea,  a  couple 
of  jars  of  marmalade  or  jam,  a  tin  of  deviled  ham,  and  a 
pound  or  two  of  pilot-bread  or  hardtack.  There  will  be 
lots  of  place.-,  along  the  course  of  your  cruise  where  you 
will  be  able  to  replenish  these  stores  should  they  run  short . 
and  at  the  villages  yon  pass  you  can  secure  fresh  meal  if 
you  care  for  it  or  are  skilful  enough  cook  to  prepare  it. 
Always  lia\e  a  line  and  some  fish  -  hooks  with  you,  for  a 
canoeist  should  be  a  good  fisherman. 

A  MESS-CHEST  ISA  GOOD  THING  to  have  if  you  are  travel- 
ling in  a  "  Peterborough."  This  is  a  tin  box  three  feet 
long,  one  foot  high,  and  about  eighteen  inches  wide.  Its 


RACING    CANOE. 


top  should  have  a, 
cover  of  painted 
canvas,  wit  li  Haps 
that  will  come 
down  over  the 
edges.  In  this 
box  your  provis- 
ions and  a  change 
of  under -clothes 
may  be  kept  per- 
fectly dry.  Car- 
ry plenty  of 
matches  and  a 
good  lantern. 
Your  matches 
should  be  kept  in 

a.  glass  jar   with  a  screw  top — an  old  preserve  jar  is  just 
the  thing.     Then  they  cannot  get  damp. 

As  TO  THE  CHUISE  ITSELF,  it  should  be  carefully  planned 
beforehand.  Never  start  off  with  only  a  general  idea  of 
where  you  want  to  go.  It  is  a  bad  thing  to  trust  to  luck 
in  canoeing.  Plan  your  trip  so  that  yon  will  start  at  the 
head  of  some  river,  or  as  near  the  head  as  yon  can  find 
good  water,  and  cruise  down.  Don't,  attempt  to  cover  too 
great  a  distance  in  one  day.  Twenty-five  miles  a  day  is 
enough,  and  is  more  than  you  will  care  to  make  if  most  of 
it  has  to  be  paddled.  Further — never  hurry.  Take  plenty 
of  time  to  fish,  bathe,  land,  visit  the  country,  and  eat 
your  meals  regularly.  If  you  have  only  a  certain  number 
of  days  to  devote  to  your  cruise,  lay  out  the  distance  you 
must  cover  each  day,  and  try  to  stick  to  your  schedule  as 
closely  as  camping-grounds  will  allow.  Keep  a  record  of 
your  adventures  in  a  log-book;  this  will  prove  not  only 
interesting  but  valuable  in  the  future. 

No  ONE  SHOULD  EVER  THINK  of  taking  a  canoe  cruise  un- 
less he  can  swim.  The  canoeist  gets  too  many  upsets  to 
risk  venturing  into  deep  water  unless  he  can  take  care  of 
himself.  It  is  a  good  thing  to  practise  upsetting  in  shal- 
low water,  so  as  to  learn  how  to  climb  back  into  your  boat 
again.  Having  fallen  into  the  stream  or  the  lake,  which- 
ever it  may  be,  swim  back  to  your  canoe  and  seize  the  side 
nearest  to  you  at  the  middle  with  your  left,  hand.  Then 
reach  across  the  cockpit  to  the  opposite  gunwale  with  your 
rifjit,  and  extend  your  body  horizontally  on  the  surface  of 
the  water.  By  a  quick  motion  you  cau  easily  draw  your- 
self across  the  cockpit  and  into  the  canoe  again.  It  is  well 
to  keep  your  paddle  tied  to  a  thwart  with  a  stout  string 
long  enough  not  to  interfere  with  your  work.  Then  it  can- 
not float  away  when  you  upset. 

THE  SAILS  MOST  COMMONLY  used  on  canoes  are  the  leg- 
of-mutton  sail  and  the  standing  lug.  On  racing  canoes 
you  usually  see  the  bat  sails — but  racing  canoes  are  mere 
machines  that  are  not  good  things  to  have  or  to  imitate, 

and    tlie    better    element 

among  canoeiugsportsmen 

to-day  are  frowning  them 

down.     A  leg -of- mutton 

sail    requires  a  tall  mast, 

which  some  canoeists  re- 
gard as  a  serious  objec- 
tion. The  sail,  ho\ve\  er, 

runs  to  such  a  small  point 

aloft  that  there  is   really  . 

very  little  surface  exposed 

to  the  wind,  and  very  little     STANDING  LDG. 

weight  up  there.    It  is  the 

most  simple  form  of  sail,  too.  and  can  be  easily  raised  i^ud 
lowered,  or  reefed,  and  is,  I  believe,  the  sates!  kind  of  a  sail 
for  a  canoe.  It  can  be  used  to  very  good  advantage  on  a 
boat  of  the  "  Nautilus"  type. 

FOK  A  CANOE  of  the  "Peterborough"  type  the  best  kiud 
of  a  sail  is  the  standing  Ing.  It  is  very  nearly  square  (and 
if  you  want  to  manufacture  one  yourself  you  can  make  it 
square),  and  very  good  for  ruuuiug  before  the  wind.  It  is 


LEG-OF-MUTTON. 


850 


easily  managed,  and  serves  admirably  as  a 
tent  or  awning  when  yon  are  camping  with 
your  canoe  turned  up  for  shelter. 

ONE    OF  THE  GUEATEST  PLEASURES  of  C3 

noeing  is  that  the  impressions  yon  <'et  are 
BO  vivid  and  real.     All  the  world  seems  so 
big  and  strong.     Your  crafr  is  so  tiny  that 
everything    else  appears  to  be  very  lar«-e. 
A  breeze  that  would  be  welcome  to  a  yacht 
is  a  gale  to  a  canoe,  and  what  are  moderate 
waves  to  a  sail -boat  of  ordinary  size  are 
heavy  seas  to  a  "Peterborough."    And  then, 
in  a  canoe,  yon  are  your  own   captain   and 
your  own  crew.   You  can  go  as  close  in-shore 
as  you  wish,  and  the  panorama  that  passes 
by  you  is  so  near  that  you  almost  feel  you 
can  touch  the  fields  and  hills,  or  pick  up  the 
cows  from  the  pastures  and  put  them  dow  ,, 
again.     And  then  the  expense  of  eai ing- 
is  so  moderate.     You  can  live  ou  your  voy- 
ages at  the  rate  of  about  fifty  cents  a,  day 
You  carry  your  house  along  with  you;  youi 
only  expenses  are  for  provisions.     I  should 
be  glad  to  give  more  space  to  the  sul.jeet, 
but  while  I  believe  that  a  great  many  of 
the  readers  of  these  columns  are  interested 
in  canoes  —  or  would  l,e  if  they  had  ever 
tried  one— I  realize,  too,  that  there  are  oth- 
ers who  are  just-as  eager  for  bicycling  and 
cat-boat  sailing  and  mountain  climbing  and 
hunting  and  fishing.     And  to  them  I  shall 
talk  later.     But  if  there  is  anything  about 
canoes  that  any  reader  of  the  ROUND  TABLE 
desires  to  know,  I  shall  be  glad  to  reply  to 
his  questions. 


FOOTBALL  PKACTICE  has  begun  in  Cali- 
fornia. The  school  term  opens  iu  August  ou 
the  Coast,  and  the  football  men  of  the  Aca- 
demic Athletic  League  are  already  ou  the 
gridiron.  The  Oakland  High-School  eleven 
promises  to  be  a  strong  oue  again  this  year 
in  spite  of  losses  by  graduation.  Lynch  will 
probably  fill  McDonnell's  place  at  tackle, 
and  Walton  will  no  doubt  play  half-back. 
Euss,  the  clever  half- miler,  is  trying  for 
quarter.  He  is  nof  particularly  apt  at  the, 
game,  and  is  too  good  a  track  athlete  to  risk 
his  legs  in  a  scrimmage.  If  the  O.H.-S.  Cap- 
tain can  find  another  man  for  the  position, 
it  will  be  best  for  the  general  welfare  of  the 
school's  sport  to  keep  Russ  on  the  cinder 
track.  C'hickcring  will  be  on  the  end  again. 
and  Guppy  is  pretty  sure  to  hold  the  other 
flank. 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 

man  signs  a  business  letter  when  writing  to 

"""•'••"-'I  these  can  be  answered  in  due 

mere!     !,!•' w'iT   C°m6   SiS'"''1  wi"'    initi:'''s 
addresses.     LstTt^esf  wrTt'erTe^pectme 

t°  answer  them  through  the  coin  inns  of  the 
"••I-"""...!.*.     This  is  not  always  possible 
or  advisable.     The  subjects   .spoke!,   of  in 
the  letters  may  not  be  of  sufficient  general 
interest  to  deserve  space  here,  yet  they  maj 
be  of  sufficient  importance  lo  warrant '-,  per 
sonal  reply.     I  always  cn(i(,;mn.  t(,  .„.,.,„,„ 

ledge  in  some  way  all  the  letters  that  , - 

to  the  Department,  hut  I  can  not  promise  to 

answer  anonymous  coinn ications. 

'I'm-:  (iu.Mii  ATI:. 


CAPTAIN  ANDERSON  WILL  KEHP  his  old 
position  at  full-back.  He  has  speed,  endur- 
ance, and  pluck;  he  runs  low,  uses  good 
judgment,  and  plays  hard  all  the  time. 
His  principal  fault  is  that  he  runs  too  far 
out  in  circling  the  ends.  It  is  better  foot- 
ball to  make  for  a  hole  and  to  depend  on 
your  end  rush  to  hold  the  opposite  end  off. 
A  down  inside  the  end  is  better  than  a  hard 
runaway  around  with  the  risk  of  beiug  forced 
beyond  the  line.  A  two-inch  gain  is  better 
than  a  run  across  the  field.  What  the  team 
needs  most  is  a  good  punter  and  place  kicker, 
and  the  ends  ought  to  learn  to  get  down  the 
field  quicker  on  punts,  and  to  follow  the  ball 
better  than  they  do  now. 

A  GREAT  MANY  LKTTF.ks  come  to  this 
Department  every  week  asking  questions 
and- making  suggestions.  .Most  of  them  arc- 
signed  by  the  writers,  just  as  any  gentle- 


Thi,  n.  i ,  ,         iact, 

:ollectors,  an,]  the  Eiliior  will  be  pi 

f«*InepaDbe^"™f".a*PO*8lb''i'    °m*m*M*a*»M*ta< 

high  prices  for  the  Great  Britain  4d., 
red  or  blue  paper,  garter  water-mark' 
quoted  in  the  ROUND  TABLE,  No.  821  Ins 
stimulated  the  readers  of  this  Department 
to  look  over  their  collec- 
fions,  and  several  think  they 
have  the  rare  varieties,  lint 
are  notcertaiu  thatthey  know 
the  difference  between  the, 
three  garter  water- marks. 
Therefore,  I  gi  ve  fac-similes  of 
all  three — small,  medium,  and 
large  garters.  There  is  not 
only  a  difference  iu  size  be- 


tween  the  medium  and  the  large,  but  also  a 
slight  difference  iu  the  design.  There  must 
be  many  copies  of  these  stamps,  as  bhej 
were  quite  common  for  many  years,  and 
prices  did  not  advance  much 'until  about 
1888.  They  are  frequently  found  in  old  col- 
lections. 


THE  newest  development  in  the  collection 
'•stamps  Minn  of  plate  niimhers  and 
san.psshouingall  or  part  of  the  imprint. 

U""\  I-.i-KlU.  Mamps  hearths  plate  , 

berson  thestamps  themselves   Inif  tbeU.S 
ll;^  Dever  followed   this  example.     Collec- 

'"'s  "'"'   have  a  chi e  k  ovei 

r"""1'"  ""  ^"  "'   theii   post    office, should 

'"V      "' '"•"•'"   stamps  they  can  find 

"itl,  the  anginal   imprint  and   plate  nnm- 
,'.';' '•:'.'"ll">  ""•"!:» for  future  exchange 

.I'"--    is    especially    true    of    all     the     Stanipf 

issued  previous  to  L890.  Many  of  the 
smaller  offices  have  stamps  of  previo, 
Biies.  Only  the  other  day  a  collector  bonghl 
>f  a  local  postmaster  complete  sheets  of 
several  1870  issues,  and  abouf  a  rear  aeo  a 
sheet  of  M;«...M,-..«.,,I w  aj  (  I 

SOld   immediately   for  $200. 

S.S.S.S.  These  four  initials  stand  lor  the 
^Society  for  the  Suppress! f  Speculative 

fetamps,      whirl,    hasjusteondcn ,1   the  fol- 

«-mg  issues  as  not  woitln  of  collection : 
Portugal  ••  San  Antonio"  Centennial  Stamps, 
tne4,10,20,30,and40c.8nrcharged  on  the 
'"»•  dollar  stamp  of  North  Borneo  and  I  -,- 
buan,  and  the  various  Chinese  locals. 

THE  annual  meet  of  the  American  Phila- 
telic Association  is  about  to  hold  its  con- 
vention at  Clayton,  N.Y.  I,  8een,8  prob- 
able that  Mr.  Tiffany,  of  St.  Louis,  will  re- 
tire from  the  presidency,  and  Mr.  Alvah 

Davison  be  elected  in  his  place.  'J  )„.  8O. 
ciety  now  numbers  about  1-jliii  members 
put  lately  has  not  occupied  the  command- 
ing position  it  formerly  held. 

J.  O.  P.— No  premiums  on  the  coins  mentioned. 

CONSTANT  RKAWII..— It  is  the  St.  Anthony  Jnliilee 
issued  by  Portugal.    It  has  litll,-  value,  ,,s  Ih.-se  slampg 
were  made  for  the  purpose  of  ».\\wt,  „,  collectors 
primarily,  and  for  postal  i;si-  necnndarily      I 
think  Portugal  will  fiud  it  very  profitable, 
are  growing  shy  of  philatelic  Irash. 

A.  B.  STKKN,  Asbury  Park.— It  is  a  medal  or  t,,keil 
not  :i  coin,  and  it  has  no  money  value. 

J.  V.  D. -Priest's  Pui.l  1),-N,:,,,  I,  stamp  i*  wo.th 
from  S5  to  $20,  according  to  varu-ty  a..d  i-onditiou 
The  ISIS  half-dollar  is  raid  hy  dealers  hu-;.v. 

F.  M.  I,,     n.-ulc-i-s  iju.,1,.  n 

I.NTKIIKSTtl)    liKAPE.-.. -Y.Mir  Ollill    l>   l-ith.-r   A.l-h  i  HI 

or  Russian,  probably  the.   iu>t.     TI,,.  value  It 

N-  ''•  ''•  !  hen  are  four  vaM.-ii.-.s  ,,i  n,,.  i^H-  ,111(1 
Bve  varieties  ,,i  the  I-.M-J  i,-.  «..i-iii  n.,m  -jn  i,.  ;.-„-  TI,,. 

"Army  ami  Navy"  i>  nut    a  , 

"i  token.     Th'-i.  .  ,  ;i sands  • 

these  luki-ns  issued  from  IsC.I  n,  ;-, 

I'm, 


Highest  of  all  in  Leavening  Power. — Latest  U.  S.  Gov't  Report 


Baking 


Powder 


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by  mail  tu  any  .uJdn 


851 


HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE 


Bicycle  route 
airbicycleroad 
Railway  station 
f'l  t^Hill  orpoorroac 


BICYCLING 


This  Department  is  conducted  in  the  interest  of  Bicyclers,  an.l  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to 
.newer  uny  question  on  the  subject.  Our  maps  and  tours  contain  much  valuable  data  kindly 
nil). lied  from  the  official  injifis  anil  road-books  of  the  League  of  American  Wheelmen.  Recog- 
lizing  the  value  of  the  work  being  done  by  the  L  A.  W.,  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to  furnish 
ubscribera  with  membership  blanks  and  information  so  far  as  possible. 

fTlHIS  week  we  have  divided  the  trip  from  Philadelphia 
I  to  Atlantic  City  into  two  parts,  of  thirty -one  and 
thirty- five  miles  each.  It  is  perfectly  possible  for  a 
good  rider  to  go  from  Philadelphia  to  Atlantic  City  in 
cue  day,  but  if  he  can  take  two  days  to  it,  the  ride  will 
be  pleasauter,  he  will  see  more  of  the  country,  and  he  car* 
then  take  the  train  back  to  Philadelphia  instead  of  riding 
the  return. 

LEAVING  Philadelphia  by  Market  Street,  go  east,  across 
the  ferry  to  Camden,  and  thence  proceeding  by  Federal 
Street  turn  into  Haddou  Avenue.  Upon  reaching  Line 
Street,  keep  to  the  left  until  the  city  line  is  reached ;  then 
take  the  right  fork.  The  rider  passes  through  Collings- 
wood,  Haddonfield,  Greenland,  to  Kirkwood,  a  distance  of 
ten  miles  or  more  over  a  reasonably  good  road,  though  not 
of  the  best  nor  in  the  best  condition.  Keep  to  the  left  in 
going  out  of  Kirkwood,  and  be  careful  of  the  railroad  cross- 
ing, which  is  a  bad  one.  After  passing  over  this  crossing, 
turn  to  the  right  at  the  paint  works,  passing  by  Lakeside 
Park  to  Gibbsboro,  a  distance  of  two  miles.  Here  the 
grade  is  very  good,  but  the  road  is  in  a  pretty  bad  condi- 
tion, aud  the  rider  had  better  keep  to  the  side  paths  when 
outside  of  the  town.  From  Gibbsboro  to  Berlin  is  four 
miles  over  a  gravel  road  not  in  any  too  good  condition,  and 
side  paths  will  again  be  a  boon.  The  road  is  direct.  It  is 
also  direct  through  Wilton  to  Blue  Anchor,  a  distance  of 
eight  miles.  There  will  be  no  difficulty  in  recognizing  the 
road,  it  being  very  straight,  and  in  most  cases  showing  by 
its  size,  as  compared  with  branch  roads,  which  is  the  main 
road. 

RUNNING  out  of  Blue  Anchor,  the  rider  takes  the  middle 
road  of  three  forks,  and  shortly  after  passing  this  main  fork 
he  arrives  at  another,  where,  keeping  to  the  left,  he  runs- 
two  miles  into  Winslow  Junction.  Crossing  the  track,  he 
will  find  the  road  to  Rosedale,  a  distance  of  a  mile  and  a 
half,  still  gravel  and  not  in  the  best  of  condition,  but  it  is. 
prrfeftly  easy  to  tell  which  is  the  correct  road.  At  Rose- 
dale  the  tracks  are  crossed  again  at  the  station,  aud  the 
run  into  and  through  Hammoutou  is  made,  the  road  bting 
pretty  good  if  yon  keep  to  the  side  paths.  This  makes  in 
all  about  thirty  or  thirty-one  miles,  and  the  rider  can  stop  at 
Hammontou  for  the  night,  though  there  are  very  few  good 
accommodations,  or  even  passable  ones,  to  be  found  any- 
where on  the  route  from  Philadelphia  to  Atlantic  City; 
but  the  lack  of  good  accommodations  is  really  the  one  ob- 
jection to  making  a  two-days-trip  of  the  Atlantic  City 
route. 

A  WOHD  should  lie  said  here  as  to  riding  long  distances. 
Any  oue  who  practises  on  a  bicycle,  i.  e.,  any  one  who  rides 
a  certain  number  of  miles  a  day  fur  a  certain  number  of 
days,  depending  on  the  particular  make-up  of  the  individual, 
will  get  himself  into  such  a  condition  that  he  can  ride  any 
reasonable  distance  ;  i.  e.,  up  to  one  hundred  miles  in  a  day. 
It  is  not,  therefore,  a  particularly  desirable  or  difficult-to- 
be-attained  facility  to  ride  long  distances  in  a  day.  Some 
men  like  to  ride  long  distances  fast;  others  like  to  ride  a 
short  distance  fast,  and  then  stop  and  walk  or  make  a  de- 
tour; while  still  others  like  to  do  a  certain  amount,  say 
thirty  or  forty  miles,  taking  a  whole  day  for  it,  at  a  slow  gait. 

MOTH.— Map  of  New  York  city  asphalted  streets  in  No.  809.  Map  of 
route  from  New  York  to  Tarrytown  in  No.  810.  New  York  to  Stamford, 
Connecticut,  in  No.  811.  New  York  lo  Staten  Island  in  No.  812.  New 
Jcrs.'v  trom  Hobokell  to  Pine  Brook  in  No.  813.  Brooklyn  in  No.  814. 
Brooklyn  to  Bahylon  in  No.  SIS.  Brooklyn  to  Northport  in  No.  816. 
Tarrytown  to  Poii^hkeepsie  in  No.  817.  Poughkeepsie  to  liudeon  iu 
No  818.  Hudson  to  Albany  in  No.  819.  Totti-iiville  lo  Trenton  in  820. 
Trenton  to  Philadelphia  in  821.  Philadelphia  in  No.  822.  Philadelphia 
-  WNsahickon  Koute  iu  No.  823.  Philadelphia  to  West  Chester  in  No. 
S24. 


Any  questions  in  regard  to  photoEraph  matters  will  be  willingly 
answered  by  the  Editor  of  this  column,  and  we  should  be  gl«d  to  hear 
from  any  of  our  club  who  can  make  helpful  suggestions. 

PAPERS    FOR    BEGINNERS,  NO.  12. 
PRINTING  AND  TONING. 

THERE  are  so  many  brands  of  sensitive 
paper  on  the  market,  and  they  are  so 
cheap,  fresh,  evenly  sensitized,  and  easy  of 
manipulation,  that  it  is  a  waste  of  time  and 
money  for  the  amateur  to  attempt  to  pre- 
pare his  own.  Even  professional  photog- 
raphers are  taking  advantage  of  the  pre- 
pared papers,  and  huy  the  paper  ready 
sensitized. 

The  gelatine  papers  have  almost  entirely 
taken  the  place  of  the  .albumen  paper,  a 
paper  which  was  always  hard  for  tin-  ama- 
teur to  handle.  The  gelatine  paper  prints 
quickly,  tones  easily,  and  many  different 
tones  can  be  obtained  in  the  same  bath  by 
removing  pictures  at  a  longer  or  shorter 
time.  The  combined  toning  and  fixing 
bath  is  very  popular,  but  the  real  gold  tones 
can  be  obtained  much  better  with  a  toning 
and  tixing  bath  prepared  separately. 

See  that  the  glass  side  of  the  negative  is 
perfectly  clean.  Place  it  in  the  printing- 
frame,  the  glass  side  out,  adjust  a  piece  of 
sensitive  paper  over  the  film  side,  fasten  in 
the  printing-frame,  and  expose  to  the  light 
till  tile  picture  is  a  little  darker  than  re- 
quired for  a  finished  print.  As  soon  as  it  is 
dark  enough, remove  it  from  the  frame,  and 
put  it  in  a  book,  aud  put  the  book  in  a 
drawer.  Do  this  with  each  print  till  all  are 
printed.  Thin  negatives  must  be  printed 
in  the  shade,  but  a  good  negative  may  be 
printed  in  direct  sunlight. 

For  beginners  who  wish  to  use  the  com- 
bined toning  aud  tixing  bath,  it  is  better  to 
buy  it  already  prepared.  A  bottle  of  pre- 
pared developer,  which  costs  fifty  cents,  will 
tone  from  one  hundred  to  one  hundred  aud 
fifty  prints  4X5. 

Place  the  prints  one  by  one  in  the  tray, 
taking  care  that  no  air-bubbles  form  ou  the 
surface  of  the  print.  If  not  immediately 
broken  they  will  leave  dark  spots  ou  the 
prints.  As  the  prints  tone  very  quickly 
they  must  be  kept  in  motion  all  the  while. 
The  best  way  to  secure  uniform  tones  is  to 
slip  the  bottom  print  out  and  place  it  face 
up  on  top  of  the  others,  which  should  be 
face  down  iu  the  tray.  As  soou  as  the  last 
print  has  been  turned  iu  this  way,  turn  the 
whole  batch  face  down  and  repeat  the  oper- 
ation. By  handling  the  prints  iu  this  man- 
ner, the  toning  process  is  seen  at  once,  and 
as  soou  as  a  print  has  received  the  desired 
tone  it  can  be  taken  from  the  tray  aud 
placed  in  a  dish  of  running  water. 

The  prints  should  wash  half  au  hour  or 
more.  The  color  obtained  in  the  bath  will 
remain.  It  does  nut  fade  as  does  the  albu- 
men print  on  being  removed  from  the  ton- 
ing bath. 

The  gelatine  prints  should  be  toued  at 
once  after  printing.  Even  if  they  are  kepi 
in  a  perfectly  dark  place,  the  half  tones  aud 
high  lights  quickly  discolor. 

The  separate  toning  baths  are  easily  pro 


HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE 

pared.  What  is  called  the  stock  solution 
is  made  as  follows:  15 grs.  chloride  gul.l  and 
sod  mm,  H  oz.  of  water. 

Dissolve  and  keep  in  a  tightly  <r.,rK,-d 
bottle,  marked  "Gold  Solution."  Chlorid.' 
of  gold  and  sodium  comes  already  pivpaml 
in  15  grain-quantities, and  costs  t'hirU  cents 
a  bottle. 

The  other  stock  solution  is  a  saturated 
solution  of  bicarbonate  of  soda.  A  satu- 
rated solution  is  a  solution  which  contains 
a  little  more  of  the  substance  dissolved  in 
it  than  it  can  hold  in  solution.  This  is 
shown  by  a  deposit  ou  the  bottom  of  the 
bottle. 

To  make  the  toning  bath,  take  3t  OB. of 
water  in  the  graduating  glass  and  add  ;  ••/. 
of  the  gold  solution.  Dip  a  piece  of  bin.- 
litmus  paper  into  the  solution,  and  it'll  ,1,,,-s 
not  turn  the  paper  red  add  a  little  more  of 
the  gold  solution  until  it  does.  Then  add 
ruough  cif  the,  bh-arlmiiati-  of  .soda  solution 
till  it,  turns  the  litmus  paper  back  to  bine. 
A  few  drops  of  the  soda  solution  should  1m 
added  at  a  time,  stirring  the  solution  \\  iili 
a  glass  rod. 

Mix:  the  bath  half  an  hour  before  wanted 
for  use.  Place  the  prints  in  this  bath  with- 
out previous  washing,  and  tone  till  the  re- 
quired color  is  obtained.  Rinse  and  place 
in  a  fixing  hath  composed  of  1  oz.  of  hypo- 
sulphite of  soda  and  8  oz.  of  water.  Leave 
them  in  this  tixing  hath  five  minutes,  then 
wash  for  half  an  hour  in  running  water. 

In  preparing  stock  solutions,  label  the 
bottles  and  write  the  formula  with  direc- 
tion for  use  ou  the  label.  This  saves  time 
and  trouble. 

In  preparing  chemical  solutions  one  must 
he  very  exact,  as  a  little  more  or  less  of  one 
ingredient  sometimes  produces  chemical 
changes  in  the  solution,  rendering  it  useless 
for  the  purpose  for  which  it  was  intended. 

PAULINB  asks  how  to  fume  paper.  Fuming  albu- 
men paper  makes  it  easier  lo  print  and  tone.  Freshly 
sensitized  paper  does  not  need  fuming,  but  paper  that 
has  been  prepared  some  time  should  be  fumed  before 
using.  To  do  this  pin  the  paper  inside  a  box,  a 
wooden  soap-box  is  just  the  thing,  and  set  it  over  a 
saucer  of  ammonia  water.  Cover  the  box  with  a 
blanket,  aiid  Jet  it  remain  for  fifteen  minutes.  Use  at 
once. 


STARVED  TO  DEATH 

in  niiiist  of  plenty.  Unfortunate,  yet  we  tiear  of  it. 
The  Gail  Burden  Eagle  Brand  Condensed  Milk  is  un- 
doubtedly the  safest  and  best  infant  food.  Infant 
Health  is  a  valuable  pamphlet  for  mothers.  Send  your 
address  to  N.  Y.  Condensed  Milk  Co.,  N.  Y.—  [Ado.] 


Co 


Entire  Stock  of  Misses' 
and  Children's  fine 

WASH  DRESSES 

$5,    $7,    and    $9    each- 


Sizes  from  4  to  14  years. 


NEW     YORK. 


Stamps, 


100  all  dit  Venezuela,  Costa  Rica,  etc.,  oulj 

10c.;  200  all  dif.Haytl.Hawaii.etc  only  MIC. 
Ag'te  wanted  at  BO  pet  ctcora,    LintFRREI 


I  f\f\ 

I 

1  *•"•' 


nil  different.,  China,  etc.. 

411  Spain,  4(lr.;   6   Tunis.   14,    ;    10  1     s    Rev- 
enui's,  inc.  Au't,-.    wtd.,  5I«  com.;  '95  list  free. 
CRITTENDEN  &  BORG  MAN  CO..  Detroit,  Mich. 


0-O-O<XX><X><K>CK>CKKX>CK>O 


u 

the  best  things  in  Prose  and  Poetry,  always  includ- 
ing' Krood  Songs  aud  Hymns.  It  is  surprising  how 
little  wood  work  of  this  kind  seems  to  he  done  in 
the  Schools,  if  one  must  judge  from  the  small  num- 
ber of  people  who  can  repeat,  without  mistake  or 
omission,  as  many  as  Three  good  songs  or  hymns- 

§1         o  i          "~f\  r  *i 
bar,  pl;ar|i*  JLJelimk, 

and  accurate  Memory  work  is  a  most  excellent 
t  h  i  n  u  .  whether  in  School  ur  out  of  it.  among  all  ages 
and  all  classes.  Hut  let  that  which  is  so  learned  be 
worth  learning  and  worth  retaining.  The  1'ranklin 
Square  Song  Collection  presents  a  large  number  of 


b  IJrtu  jS 


and  Hymns,  in  great  variriv  and  very  carefully 
selected,  comprising  Sixteen  Hundred  in  thr  Hipht 
NmnUrs  thus  far  issued,  together  with  much 
choice  i 

Music  and  Musicians.     In  the  complete  and 


of  Camlet! 


s. 


which  is  sent  free  oil  application  to  the  Pub!i>hcrs. 
nc   found  du/.ens  of  the   lirst    thtni:-    in   the 
M.  \\lmh    arc  will  worth  cummin  a 
dd  they  who  knmv  nuist  of  MJ..-II  . 
1    I-HHIV    thrill    inn-' 
•     th-'    br»l    .  ,!• 

Thev  have  the  U-t  rrMilt  ,  I   ' 
Contents,  with  sample  i> 

Harper  &  Brothers,  New  Tork. 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


The  OrJer's  Badges. 

The  Founders  decided  to  have  new  badges  and 
asked  for  designs  for  the  same.  Old  badges  are 
still  official,  and  those  who  have  llieru  need  not 
feel  call  HI]  upon  to  buy  the  new  style.  Designs 
were  received  from  about  a  score  of  members,  but 
almost  none  of  the  suggestions  were  practicable. 
An  old  Founder,  who  has  excellent  taste  in  such 
nuii ters,  suggests  an  outline  star;  a  centre  the 
rose  from  the  top  of  the  King  Arthur  Table,  and 
the  letters  K.  L.  O.  R.  T.,  one  on  each  of  the  star's 
five  points.  The  star  is  American,  and  the  rose 
historic— a  relic  from  the  Order  from  which  we 
get  our  name. 

There  can  be  two  styles  of  badges,  one  a  silver 
.stick-pin  t<>  cost  about  ten  cents, and  the  other  a 
gnld  and  "enamel  pin.  same  design,  with  pin  and 
catch,  to  cost  about  $1,  and  handsome  enough  to 
be  worn  as  a  scarf  or  dress  pin,  instead  of  a  pin 
of  any  other  design.  When  so  considered,  it  is  not 
a  direct  outlay  for  the  Order,  since  nearly  every 
person  has  and  wears  a  pin  of  some  sort.  The  de- 
signs are  not  yet  made,  of  course,  but  they  will  be 
if  the  Table  agrees  to  them.  Founders  need  not 
write  unless  they  disapprove  of  the  suggested  de- 
signs. Badges  will  be  prepared  at  the  earliest  pos- 
sible momeut,  and  orders  filled. 

*  *  * 
A  Walk  in  the  West  Indies. 

The  other  day  I  took  a  walk  among  the  moun- 
tains wiih  others  of  our  family.  We  started  in 
the  morning  before  the  sun  had  time  to  g;iin  his 
full  heat,  and  walked  along  the  bank  of  a  river  un- 
til we  leached  higher  ground  From  the  top  of 
one  of  the  mountains  wTe  could  see  wide  stretches 
of  blue  sea,  and  green  sugar-cane  fields,  and  the 
whole  of  Kingston  lying  in  the  broad  v;illey  far 
away  and  beyond  us  We  saw  Port  Royal  and  the 
old  Spanish  ship  Urgent,  lying  at  anchor  in  the  har- 
bor. 

All  this  we  looked  at  as  we  rested,  and  it  was 
the  best  sort  of  resting,  too.  Then  we  turned 
our  hacks  on  it,  and  walked  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion. Higher  and  higher  we  climbed,  and  I  found 
a  wild  rose,  a  white  one,  growing  by  the  pur h,  and 
some  butterfly- weed  further  on — a  veritable  breath 
of  America.  The  path  is  only  wide  enough  for 
mules  and  donkeys,  and  people  single  file.  We 
met  some  negro  women  with  frnit.s  on  their  heads, 
and  the  ground  was  covered  with  mangoes,  green 
and  yellow,  some  with  large  bites  in  them,  for  all 
the  negroes  eat  them.  Parts  of  the  river  crossed 
our  path, sometimes  witb  occasional  little  water- 
falls ;  and  we  drank,  partly  from  thirst  and  partly 
from  pure  pleasure  in  drinking  water  so  clear  and 
sweet  and  cold. 

We  passed  a  coffee-mill  with  big  barbecues,  and 
men  spreading  out  the  coffee  on  them  with  shov- 
els. There  seemed  to  be  a  great,  deal  of  it,  but 
there  are  only  a  very  few  people  here  who  have 
succeeded  in  making  their  "  pile  ''  by  raising  coffee. 
The  big  mill-wheel  was  silent ;  it  is  turned  by  water 
power,  and  was  probably  out  of  order.  I  never 
heard  of  any  thing. Jamaican  that  wasn't  the  latter. 
It  was  deliciously  cool  up  there,  with  a  strong  wind 
bii>\\  ing,  and  occasional  small  patches  of  shade 
from  thick-leaved  mango-trees.  There  were  plenty 
of  banana- 1  rees,  but  only  a  few  palms.  I'alms 
$;i-ow  better  further  down.  The  mountains  were 
becoming  misty  already  when  we  turned  to  go 
back.  They  generally  do  in  tlie.  afternoon. 

GWICNUOLEN  HAWTHORNE. 

JUUDKN  TOWN,  JAMAICA,  B.  \V.  I. 


Hbc  Ibclpmo  1ban&. 

Another  memorial  stone,  is  promised  for  the 
School  Buildinu'.  It  is  to  bear  the  name  of  J.  Paul 
Ciiarlton.  who  was  a  Canadian  Knight  and  a  Found- 
er of  our  Order.  His  uncle  sends  $10  to  the  Fund, 
and  says  he  will  provide  the  st.one  as  soon  as  the 
size  is  given  him.  The  stone  will  cost  $3  to  $0. 
The  Table  will  be  glad  to  hear  from  others  who 
m, iy  wish  t,o  place  memorial  stones  in  the  building. 
It  is  not.  lu-T.-ssarv  that  the  person  belonged  in  life 
to  the  Onl'-r.  \Vt-  hope  iiio»L  uf  the  Chapters  will 
al>o  give  itnnif  Atones. 

Wnat  do  \ou  Miink  of  Mr    Mini  roe's  ;ippe;il?     We 

ajrree  with  him  that  -  r,  /•//  mt.'iibtr  onyht  fob-   /••/"''- 

ou   the  Honor  Hull.     Have  you  forwarded 


your  dime  yet?  Let  us  raise  the  balance  of  this 
Fund  and  crown  our  efforts  with  success.  Ten 
cents  from  you,  will  do  it.  We  have  received  since 
last  report .  Josephine  Howard,  10  cents.  A  friend, 
$1.  Kirk  Munroe,  10  cents.  \V.  A.  I'harlton,  Juii., 
$10.  M-  Le  Roy  Arnold,  25  cents.  Harry  Harper 
Chapter,  of  Newtown,  Conn.,  $10.  A  friend  (K), 
$10.  Mary  Barnes,  g2.  Total  $33  45. 


Note  to  Washington  Members. 

It  is  intended  to  have  an  entertainment  in  Wash- 
ington, toward  the  end  of  September,  in  aid  of  the 
School  Fund,  and  all  readers  there  are  cordially 
invited  to  attend.  Due  notice  will  be  given  of 
place  and  exact  date.  Any  who  are  willing  to  help 
at  selling  tickets  are  asked  to  send  word  to  Eliza- 
beth W.  Hyde,  1418  Euclid  Place,  N.  W.  The  tickets 
will  be  twenty-five  cents, and  the  entertainment  a 
most  attractive  one. 

*  *  * 
A  Sparrow's  Ride. 

In  this  city,  and  not  far  from  our  house,  my  father 
owns  a  large  mill  in  which  is  a  great  deal  of  ma- 
chinery. The  other  day  a  workman,  busy  beside  a 

iiTillu\r  tliiir    line   -r.<, i.i'.    in    if-   Miifl    :i    liollotv   nolle;  for 


olnuery.  The  other  day  a  workman,  uusy  uesiae 
pulley  that  has  spokes  in  it  and  a  hollow  cone,  f 
a  rim,  noticed  an  English  sparrow  fly  rapidly  t 


bird  had  gone  into  the  pulley,  me  nrst  wont  in  a 
could  not  believe  it,  and  so  he  did  not  stop  the  m; 
chinery. 


was  found  that  the  sparrow  had  made  nearly  twei 
ty  thousand  revolutions,  and  was  still  unharmed. 

LA.-ai.NG.  JOHN    U.  KBTCUAM. 


Help  Wanted. 

The  Little  Women  Chapter,  of  Upper  Nyack,  N. 
Y.,is  to  hold  a  fair  in  aid  of  the  School  Fund,  and 
asks  for  contributions  of  fancy-work  and  money. 
It  also  wants  kitchen  aprons,  fur  they  always  sell. 
Send  articles,  postage  prepaid,  to  Sophie  Moeller, 
president,  Upper  Nyack,  N.  Y.,  at  any  lime  within 
three  weeks.  We  ask  the  Table  to  help  this  Chap- 
ter. 


s>    Ik  in  I?  5.   ® 

No.  95. — IN  A  GARDEN. 
Supply  blanks  by  mimes  of  plants. 

A  —           —  stood  off  apart, 
Clad  iu  ber ,  sbe  cried  ; 

"How  can  1  stanch  my  — 
Siuce  my died?" 

Often  she at 

To  go  to  feed  her  ; 

She  also  watered  all  tlie  , 

And  put  in  their . 

She  tried  to  keep  a  notions  shop 
For  sale  of  fancy  gomls. 

Like  —  —  for  a , 

too,  and  —         — . 

But  nothing  brought  or  — , 

Till  one an  — 

Gave  advice  that  gave  —  . 

This  was  his  pleasant  plan! 

Said  he,  "Your •  shines,  and  — 

Your  ,  sweet  as  hom'y. 

Tbf  re's  —                    — ,  and  I  think 
You'd  best  try ." 

No.  96.— HOLLOW  ST.  AMIKEW'S  Cuoss. 

Upper  Iff! -hand  diamond.— 1.  In  crystal.  •.'  A 
small  fish.  '•',.  Ventured.  4.  The  e;ivi:>  uf  a  nmf. 
:>.  l.xi-iini,'.  ti.  To  ni"]sten.  T.  In  crystal. 

Upper  Hghl-buid  diamond.— 1.  In  crystal.  2  A 
larire  wuuilrii  vrssel.  3.  Pacifies.  4  Thunders. 
5.  Henealh.  0.  To  stitch.  7.  IllCryslal. 

Lower  left-hand  diamond. —1.  lucrysial.    ~'.  The 
854 


end  of  a  piece  of  lace.  3.  Modified.  4  Fanatics. 
5.  Having  the  qualities  of  beer.  (i.  Arid.  7.  In 
crystal. 

Lower  right- band  diamond.— 1.  In  cryslal  3. 
Unci inked.  3.  Committed  to  memory.  4.  Relat- 
ing to  the  arch-fiend.  5.  Winds.  C.  An  English 
prefix  meaning  "separated.".  7.  In  crystal. 

VINCKNT  V.  M.  BEEDE. 


No.  97. 

First  is  a  prinia  donna. 

Second  is  a  city  in  Germany. 

Third  the  capital  of  New  Jersey. 

Fourth  are  the  celebrated  falls  of  the  United 
States. 

Filth  is  une  of  the  five  great  lake  ports. 

Sixth  is  the  president  of  the  United  States. 

Seventh  is  a  country  in  Europe. 

Eighth  is  a  well-known  temperance  lecturer. 

Ninth  is  a  celebrated  English  novelist. 

Tenth  is  an  American  explorer. 

My  whole  counted  down  the  centre  is  a  cele- 
brated American  poet.  LINDA  MOHIIMANN. 


Answers  to  Kinks. 

No.  93. 

Name,  Cromwell.  1.  Craven,  raven.  2  Ilink, 
ink.  3.  Olive,  live.  4.  Madder,  adder.  5  Waft, 
aft.  6.  Event,  vent.  7.  Lace,  ace.  8.  Lair,  air. 

No.  93. 

1.  Anti -ninny.  2  Si  -  mony.  3.  Patri  -  nnmy. 
4.  Cere-mony.  5.  Matri  -  nnmy.  6.  Ali-muny. 
7.  Scam  •  rnony.  8.  Parsi -mony.  9.  Acri-mouy. 
10.  Testi-mouy.  11.  Ilar-mouy. 


No.  94. 


LIVE 
IRON 


v  o  i 

END 


D 


DING 
IDOL 
NODE 


S  I  N  G  L  E  N 

IDOL 

NOSE 

DINGLEEELS 
IDEA  EDIT 
NEAT  LIME 
GATE  STEP 


Two  Facts  about  Germantown. 

It  was  in  GermanUHvu  that  the  mariners'  quad- 
rant was  invented  by  Thomas  Godfrey  in  173(1;  and 
that  Christopher  Sower,  Sr.,  printed  the  flr.«t  Iliiila 
in  America,  a  copy  of  which,  with  Sower's  imprint. 
could  have  been  seen  at  the  Centennial  Exhibition 
iu  Philadelphia  in  1876. 

PHILADELPHIA.  JOHN   H.  CAMPBELL,  JuN. 


Questions  ano  answers. 

Charles  Bellas,  South  Auburn,  Neb.,  wants  sam- 
ples of  amateur  papers,  and  George  W.  Buchanan, 
Searcy,  Ark.,  wants  to  correspond  with  editors  of 
such  papers.  "  O.  E.  S."  wants  us  to  offer  prizes 
for  nm-ic  settings.  We  will  do  so.  A  "  member" 
asks  all  about  chicken  raising.  He  will  find  this 
information  in  a  long  illustrated  article  in  the 
KOUND  TABLE.  No.  806,  which  he  can  order  through 
any  dealer.  It  is  too  soon  to  reprint  it.  E.stiella 
E.  Ulrich,  age  sixteen,  is  a  member  who  lives  at 
liuckland's  Ifoad,  Onehiinga,  Auckland,  New  Zea- 
land, and.  sends  us  a  puzzle  answer  "too  late, "as 
sh«  says,  "  for  the  competition. but  to  let  you  see 
that  children  born  and  brought  up  in  this  out-of-, 
the -way  corner  of  the  world  know  something 
about  authors  of  England  and  America  "  If  Lady  . 
Estrella's  excellent  answer  is  a,  sample  of  what  , 
Auckland  Ladies  can  do,  we  will  have  to  admit  v 
that  New  Ze;ilam1ers  are  well  informed  on  liter, M  y 
matters.  Will  you  jjive  the  Table  a  morsel  abour 
Auckland? 

Annie  Kidiler:  It  is  impossible  to  tell,  at  this' 
distance  of  time,  who  was  the  onirirm  I  of  "  Lit  tie. 
Blue  Jacket,"  the  picture  published  hy  this  [>;ipn 
nearly  nine  yt-ars  air<>  It  was  from  a  photo-jr,, 
taken  in  London,  and  we  doubt  if  any  rtcoul  ran 
uow  be  found  of  it.  We  uave  none. 


HARPER'S  ROUND   TAHLE 


CHOCOLATE   CREAMS. 

THE  favorite  candies  illustrate  the  use 
of  fomlaiit  both  tor  the  centre  of  can- 
dirs  and  for  the  outside  or  "dipping,"  as 
candy-makers  call  it.  In  the  first  place 
get  everything  in  readiness.  A  fork,  some 
sheets  of  oiled  paper — paper  rubbed  with 
olive  oil — or  waxed  paper,  a  large  bowl,  and 
three  small  saucepans  or  basius,  your  flavor- 
ing, the  chocolate,  and  your  mass  of  fon- 
dant are  what  you  will  need.  Take  a  half- 
pound  of  fondant  and  work  into  it  half  a 
teaspoouful  of  vanilla  drop  by  drop.  Then 
break  off  small  bits  and  shape  them  into 
balls  or  pyramids.  Stand  them  on  the 
papers  so  they  will  not  touch  each  other, 
and  let  them  harden  in  a  dry  cool  place — 
not  the  refrigerator — for  two  or  three  hours. 
When  the  creams  are  ready  to  dip  take 
half  a  pound  of  unsweetened  chocolate  or 
cocoa  and  put  it  in  the  bowl,  and  place  this 
in  one  of  the  basins  or  saucepans  into  which 
boiling  water  bas  been  poured.  You  can 
add  ;i  trifle  of  boiling  water  to  the  chocolate 
to  hasten  its  melting.  When  it  is  melted 
add  an  equal  amouut  of  melted  fondant, 
and  stir  constantly  till  the  mixture  is  like 
thick  cream.  To  melt  the  fondant  put  it 
into  a  saucepan,  and  set  this  into  a  second 
filled  with  hot  water.  Never  place  the  basin 
with  the  fondant  in  it  directly  on  the  stove. 
It  will  scorch  and  burn  in  a  twinkling.  In 
melting  fondant  for  dipping  you  must  never 
forget  to  stir  it,  because  unless  stirred  it 
will  go  back  into  clear  syrup.  lie  very 
can-till  no  water  splashes  into  if.  If  when 
the  chocolate  and  fondant  are  mixed  to- 
gether they  are  too  thick  for  a  smooth  cov- 
ering add  a  few  drops  of  hot  water,  drop  by 
drop,  until  it  is  as  desired.  If  you  get  the 
fondant  too  thin  it  is  useless.  When  the 
mi xi  nrc'  is  rc.-uly  bring  it  to  the  table,  sauce- 
pan and  all.  Drop  into  it  one  of  the  balls, 
and  take  it  up  on  a  fork,  and,  shaking  it  a 
bit,  turn  it  on  the  oiled  paper.  This  must 
be  rapidly  done,  as  the  hot  mixture  will 
melt  the  balls  if  they  are  in  it  too  long.  If 
the  mixture  for  dipping  gets  too  still  lake 
it  to  the  stove  and  let  the  water  in  the 
under  basin  heat  again,  or  replace  the  cold 
water  with  hot  from  the  kettle,  carefully 
stirring  the  fondant  every  moment.  If  the 
chocolate  runs  off  too  much  and  shows  the 
white  cream  underneath,  the  dipping  mix- 
ture was  too  hot.  Take  it  out  of  its  lia.sin 
of  hot  water  and  stir  it,  letting  it  cool  a 
.ittle  before  beginning  the  dipping  again. 
The  method  of  dipping  candies,  whatever 
lay  be  their  centres  or  their  flavors,  is  the 
same,  so  that  once  you  can  make  chocolate 
creams,  you  can  make  any  of  the  cream  can- 
dies. 


GOOD    HEALTH    WORK. 

OOME  conception  of  the  constant  dauger 
>O  to  the  public  health  of  >'ew  York  may 
je  had  by  reading  the  last  i|imrtcrly  report 
)f  the  Board  of  Health.  The  sanitary  in- 
spectors, who  are  kept  more  steadily  at  \\  ink 
w  than  ever  before,  since  the  orjjani/.alion 
>f  the  Department  of  Health,  in  addition  to 
their  other  labor,  dest  roved  Clin.oiill  pound* 
if  vegetables  until-  for  food,  "1111,11110  pounds 

it'   meat.  13,000  pounds  of  lisli.  and    ! ' 

ninds  of  confectionery,  so  called  —  the 
poisoned  sni;ar  stuff  sold  to  children  at  the 
>euiiy  shops  all  over  town. 


Copyright,  1895,  by  The  Procter  4  Gamble  Co..  dull. 


r- 


Plenty  of  fresh  air,  an 
abundance  of  sleep,  a.  care- 
ful diet  and  the  daily  use  of 
a  good  soap  like  the  Ivory 
will  purify  the  complexion 
as  no  cosmetic  can. 


EARN  A  TRICYCLE! 

We  wish  to  introduce  our 
TeaB(3plcestand  i;;ikiuy 
J*o\vd<:r.  Sell  30  lus.  ana 
we  will  give  you  a  Fairy 
Tricycle:  sell  25  Ibs.for 
aSolidgUver  \V;urli:ni<l 
Chain;  50  lljs.  fora  Gold 
Watchandi  li:mj;T:.ll«. 
for  a  Bicycle ;  10  Ibs. 
for  a  Beautiful  Gold 
Ring-  Express  prepaid 
11  cash  is  sent  for  goods. 
Write  for  catalog  and 
on  lt-r  sheet. 

w.  G.  BAKER, 

SPRINGFIELD,  MASS. 


HE ACNESS  &  HEAD  NOISES  CURED 

IJ  F  II  n  by  my  INVISIBLE  Tu(.iil«r  Cushions.  Have  helped 
•    more  to  ffootl   U  C  A  D  '      than  all  other  de- 
vices combined.      Whispers  flkHnd.    Help  ears  as  glasses 
doeyea.  F.Hleeox,  868  B*dway,N.Y.  Bootof  proofs  FREE 


mm'!  PERIODICALS. 

I'er   Year: 

HAKl'EK'S  MAGAZINE /Wa./e  fi'»->,)4  cm 

IIAKI'EK'S  WEEKLY )  OU 

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tions.  XvtiKfr//'t,i>ii*  M'/I/  direct  /•<  the  publinhers  ahoultl 
be  accompanied  by  /W-'.//Nr  ,1/c/if//  Onier  or  Draft. 

HAUPER  &  BROTHERS,  Fraukliu  Square,  H.  V. 


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MEN   OF    IRON. 

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Or,  Seasoning  for  Young  Folk.  Superbly 
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THE  ROSE  OF  PARADISE. 

Being  a  detailed  Account  of  Certain  Advtriu- 
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in  Connection  with  the  famous  Pirate,  I 
ward  England,  in  the  Year  1720,  off  the  Isl- 
and of  Juanna,  in  the  Mozambique  Channel, 
writ  by  himself,  and  now  fur  the  lirst  time 
published.  Illustrated  by  the  Author.  IVM 
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A  MODERN  ALADDIN; 

Or,    the    Wonderful    Adventures    "I     Oliver 
MimicT.      An    Extrava  ;anza    in    KOCH     \ 
Illustrated  l>v  the  Author.      Post 
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CHARLES 
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Fascinating  Historical  Works 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN. 

THE  BOYS  OF  76. 

THE  STORY  OF  LIBERTY. 

OLD    TIMES    IN    THE    COL- 
ONIES. 

BUILDING  THE  NATION. 

A  History  of   the   Rebellion 
in  Four  Volumes  : 

DRUM-BEAT  OF  THE  NATION. 
MARCHING  TO  VICTORY. 
REDEEMING  THE  REPUBLIC. 
FREEDOM  TRIUMPHANT. 


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HARPER   &    BROTHERS,  Publishers,  New   York. 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 

MoTHRii.  "I  really  don't  see  how  I'rri  going  to  make  both 
ends  meet." 

BOBBY.  "Why,  mamma,  you  give  me  hold  of  one  end, 
and  you  take  the  other,  aud  we'll  stretch  it." 


THE  MERRY  OWLETS. 
THERE  were  three  little  owls  that  had  slept  all  day 

lu  their  dowuy  nest  iu  a  dead  tree's  hollow; 
Said  the  first:   "It's  time  to  go  out  aud  play, 

I  hear  the  good-night  of  the  chimney-swallow!" 
"Ohuo,"said  the  second;  "the  suu  is  high, 
Who  wants  to  be  blind  as  a  bat? — uot  I!" 
But  the  third  said:  "Eats!  we  have  slept  euough! 
Let's  go,  anyhow,  and  play  bliudmau's-buff!" 


SAMMY.  "  Who  is  the  father  of  his  country  ?" 
JIMMIE.  "George  Washington." 
SAMMY.  "Correct.     Who  is  his  uncle?" 
JIMMIIC.  "  Why.  I  don't  know." 
SAMMY.  "  Uncle  Sain." 


WILLIAM   PENN. 

BOBBIN  aud  Dobbin,  William  Penn, 

He  was  one  of  the  best  of  men. 

He  was  a  Governor  good  and  great 

Of  Pennsylvania's  early  State. 

Aud  he  ruled  by  love,  as  a  man  should  do, 

For  he  was  a  Quaker  kind  and  true. 

Bobbin  aud  Dobbin,  William  Penn, 

He  was  one  of  the  best  of  meu. 


A  BEE  is  a  "  busy  bee,"  for  it  is  said  that  in  order  to  ob- 
tain enough  honey  for  a  load  it  has  to  visit  many  huudreds 
of  flowers.  It  averages  twenty  trips  a  day,  aud  from  twenty 
to  fifty  pounds  of  honey  are  yearly  produced  by  the  hive, 
according  to  its  size.  Statistics  taken  from  European 
countries  place  the  number  of  beehives  aud  their  output 
of  honey  yearly  as  follows: 

Germany,  1,910,000  hives,  with  an  output  of  45,00(1,000 
pounds;  Spain,  1,61)0,000  hives,  with  an  output  of  42,000,000 
pounds  ;  Austria,  1,550,000  hives,  with  an  output  of  40,000,- 
000  pounds;  France  has  950,000  hives,  producing  23,000,000 
pou mis ;  Holland,  240,000  hives,  producing  6,000,000  pounds ; 
Belgium  with  200,000  hives  produces  5,000,000  pouuds,  aud 
Russia  with  110,000  hives  produces  2,000,000  pounds. 

Europe  is  estimated  to  yield  from  its  beehives  40.000  tons 
of  honey,  valued  close  on  to  $11,000,000,  and  its  wax,  15,000 
tons,  valued  at  $7,500,000. 

This  is  a  large  aud  rich  amount  of  sweets  for  the  little 
busy  bee  to  bring  to  maukind  yearly  for  uothiug. 


MOTHER.  "Didn't  I  tell  you  to  put  the  miuce  pie  away 
this  morning?" 

JACK.  "  Yes,  mamma,  you  did  ;  but  you  didu't  say  where 
to  put  it,  so  I  stored  it  away  iu  my  stomach." 


MOTHER.  "Jack,  what  have  you  done  with  the  niouey 
yon  saved  up  last  week?" 

JOHNNY.  "  Papa  told  me  to  save  for  a  rainy  day;  yester- 
day was  the  first  one  we  had,  so  I  spent  it." 


A   STUDY    IN    NATURAL    HISTORY. 

"CAN  WK  CATOU  THAT  OLD  or.ow  ?" 

•'WjiLi.,  IF  ONK  ot-  us  CAN'T  DO  IT,  WK'LL  BKB  WUAT  TWO  CAN  DO.' 

'HA,UA!  WK'LL  auow  YOU  WHAT  TOUCAN  no!" 

856 


HARPE 

___Z     "^Ey  x—*1  •r-^M 

ROUND  TABLE 


Copyright,  1895,  by  HARPKB  &  BROTHKRS.     All  Rights  Reserved. 


VOL.  svi.— NO.  826.  NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY,  AUGUST  27    1895  F1VE  CENTS  A  COPY 

! ..  TWO    DOLLARS   A    TEAR. 


' 


OAKLEIGH. 


BY  ELLEN  DOUGLAS  DELAM) 


T 


CHAPTER    X. 

1ONY  BRONSON  was  the  son  of  a  man  who  bad  made  a 
great  deal  of  money  in  a  doubtful  lino  of  business  by 
rather  shady  proceedings.  In  other  words,  he  was  not 
strictly  honest,  and  had  amassed  a  large  fortune  in  a  man- 
ner that  would  not  bear  investigation. 

Of  this  Tony,  of  course,  was  ignorant;  but  he  inherited 
from  his  father  a  mean  spirit  and  a  determination  to  turn 
«very  circumstance  to  his  own  account.  He  had  been  sent 
•early  to  St.  Asaph's  School  that  he  might  associate  with 
•the  sous  of  gentlemen  and  become  a  gentleman  himself, 
but  he  had  acquired  only  the  outward  veneering.  His 
(manners  were  most  courteous,  his  language  carefully  cho- 
sen, and  be  had  sufficient  wit  to  enable  him  to  readily 


ada.pt  himself  to  his  companions,  but  he  had  not  tin-  in- 
stincts of  a  true  gentleman.  He  was  mean,  he  was  some- 
thing of  a  coward,  and  lie  was  ver\  much  of  a  bully. 

Years  ago,  soon  after  the  two  ho\  s  lir.st  met  at  St. 
Asaph's,  Neal  detected  Tony  in  a  cowardly,  dishonorable 
action,  and  had  openly  accused  liim  of  it.  Tony  never 
forgave  him,  but  lie  bided  his  time.  With  an  unlimited 

amount    of  pockel-i icy   of  hi-   own.  he   soon    di-rovcied 

that  Xeal  was  running  short.  \Vhen  a  convenient  oppor- 
tunity came  he  o  tie  red  to  lend  him  a  small  sum.  Neal, 
after  a  moment's,  hesitation,  weakly  accepted  the  n 
assuring  himself  that  it  wa>  onl\  t'oi-a>lioi;  t  i:ne.  and  that 
he  could  easily  repay  it.  and  then  have  no  nioiv  i<>  >[«  with 
Hronson.  It  saved  him  trouble. 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Tbus  it  had  gone  on.  Tlie  time  never  came  when  Neal 
felt  able  to  pay  the  debt;  on  the  other  hand,  lie  borrowed 
more,  and  now  it  had  readied  alarming  proportions.  His 
monthly  allowance,  when  it  arrived,  was  gone  in  a  Hash, 
for  Neal  had  never  been  in  the  habit  of  denying  himself. 
It  would  have  been  hard  for  him  to  explain  why  he  did 
not  go  fr.in lily  to  his  sister,  tell  her  the  whole  story,  and 
ask  for  her  help,  except  that  he  was  thoroughly  ashamed 
of  having  placed  himself  in  such  straits  and  did  not  want 
to  acknowledge  it. 

Tony  Brouson  had  become  intimate  with  Tom  Morgan 
at  St.  Asaph's,  Tom  not  being  particular  in  his  choice  of 
friends.  In  that  way  he  had  come  to  visit  the  Morgans 
in  Brenton.  His  handsome  face  and  apparently  perfect 
manner  attracted  many  to  him  who  could  not  see  beneath 
the  surface,  and  his  languid  man-of-the-world  air  made  an 
impression. 

He  cultivated  this  to  the  last  degree.  He  was  not  natu- 
rally so  lazy,  but  he  thought  it  effective. 

When  he  said  to  Edith  that  he  wished  to  tell  her  some- 
thing about  Neal  Gordon, she  looked  at  him  in  still  greater 
surprise. 

"I  want  to  ask  your  help,  Miss  Franklin.  A  girl  can 
manage  these  things  so  much  better  than  a  fellow.  I  like 
Gordon  immensely,  and  I  want  to  do  all  I  can  to  help  him 
out  of  a  scrape." 

"Does  he  kuow  that  you  are  speaking  to  rue  about 
him  f ' 

"  No,  of  course  not.     The  fact  is — 

"Then  I  think,  Mr.  Bronsou,"  interrupted  Edith,  gently, 
but  with  decision,  "  that  perhaps  it  would  be  better  for  us 
not  to  discuss  him." 

"But  yon  quite  misunderstand  me,  Miss  Franklin.  I 
am  speaking  only  for  his  own  good.  I  can't  bear  to  see 
a  fellow  going  straight  to  the  bad,  as  I  really  am  very 
much  afraid  he  is,  and  not  lift  a  linger  to  help  him.  I 
tliiinght  if  I  told  you  that  perhaps  you  might  speak  to  his 
sister — 

Edith  interrupted  him  again,  with  heightened  color.  "  I 
can  do  nothing  of  the  sort.  Nothing  would  induce  me 
to  speak  to  Mrs.  Franklin  on  the  subject.  I — I  couldn't 
possibly." 

Bronsou  looked  at  her  compassionately. 

"Ah,  it  is  as  I  thought!  You  and  Mrs.  Franklin  are 
not  congenial.  I  am  so  sorry." 

Edith  said  nothing.  She  knew  that  he  should  not  make 
such  a  remark  to  her,  a  perfect  stranger.  She  felt  that  he 
did  not  ring  true.  And  yet  she  could  not  bring  herself  to 
administer  the  reproof  that  Cynthia  would  have  given  un- 
der like  circumstances. 

"I  am  afraid  I  have  offended  you,"  said  Brouson,  pres- 
sently  ;  "do  forgive  me!  And  if  you  like  I  will  say  no 
more  about  the  bad  scrape  Gordon  is  in.  I  thought  per- 
haps I  could  prevent  a  letter  coming  from  the  faculty,  but 
I  see  it's  of  no  use.  I'm  awfully  sorry  for  the  fellow. 
You  don't  really  think  you  could  do  anything  to  influence 
his  sister?" 

At  last  Edith  found  her  voice. 

"I  don't  think  I  can.  And  if  you  don't  mind  I  would 
rat  her  not  discuss  the  Gordons — I  mean,  Mrs.  Franklin  and 
her  brother." 

"Certainly  not,  if  you  don't  wish,  and  you  won't  re- 
peat what  I  said,  of  course.  If  we  can't  help  him,  of 
course  we  had  better  not  let  it  get  out  about  Gordon  any 
sooner  than  necessary.  But  holloa!  What's  this?  The 
carpet  seems  to  be  getting  damp." 

It  undoubtedly  was,  and  gave  forth  a  most  unpleasantly 
moist  sound  when  pressed.  Upon  investigation  they  found 
that  the,  bottom  of  the  canoe  was  filled  with  water.  They 
had  sprung  a  leak. 

"We  had  better  get  back  as  quickly  as  possible,"  said 
Edith,  rather  relieved  to  have  the  conversation  come  to  au 
cull.  "Is  there  a  sponge  there  ?  I  can  bail  if  it  gets  any 
worse." 

But  no  sponge,  was  to  be  found,  and  it  rapidly  grew 
worse  ;  Edith's  skirts  were  damp  and  draggled.  Presently 
there  was  an  inch  of  water  above  the  carpet. 

"  \\V  shall  sink  if  this  goes  on,"  she  said. 


"Oh,  I  fancy  not,"  returned  Bronsou,  easily  ;  "we  haven't 
very  far  to  go." 

But  their  progress  was  not  rapid,  and  the  pool  in  the 
canoe  grew  deeper. 

"Perhaps  you  will  lend  me  your  cap,"  said  Edith;  "I 
cau  use  it  as  a  dipper."  He  did  so,  and  she  bailed  vigor- 
ously. "It  must  be  a  very  large  leak.  I  suppose  we  got 
it  on  that  rock  in  the  rapids,  and  we  scraped  again  just 
before  we  tied  up,  which  made  it  worse.  If  it  were  our 
boat  I  would  not  care,  but  I  think  it  is  Neal's." 

She  was  so  occupied  that  she  did  not  see  Bronson  smile. 
His  smile  was  not  attractive,  though  his  teeth  were  per- 
fect. 

Matters  would  have  gone  badly  with  them  if  they  had 
not  at  this  moment  met  Jack  and  Kitty  Morgan  in  the 
Franklins'  canoe. 

"  What's  the  row  ?"  called  Jack. 

"Nothing  rnncb,"said  Bronsou.  "We've  sprung  a  little 
leak,  that's  all." 

"A  little  leak!  I  should  think  so.  My  eye!  Why, 
man,  you  must  have  a  regular  hole  for  the  water  to  come 
in  like  that.  Where  have  you  been,  anyhow?  You  had 
better  put  in  here  at  this  little  beach  and  step  over  into 
my  boat." 

"What's  the  matter  with  stepping  over  right  where  we 
are  ?  No  need  of  going  to  shore." 

Jack  eyed  him  with  curiosity  and  contempt.  He  looked 
so  much  like  Cynthia  that  Bronson  felt  withered.  He  did 
not  care  for  Cynthia,  for  he  knew  that  she  did  not  like 
him. 

Jack  did  not  speak  at  once,  but  paddled  towards  the 
bank.  Then  he  said: 

"You  won't  try  stepping  from  one  canoe  to  another  in 
mid-stream  if  I  have  anything  to  say  about  it." 

The  change  was  safely  accomplished,  and  they  proceeded 
down  the  river  towing  the  injured  boat,  the  carpet  and 
cushions  having  been  transferred  with  the  passengers. 
Relieved  of  the  weight  it  did  not  fill  as  rapidly,  and  they 
at  last  reached  the  picnic-ground. 

Brouson  was  mortified  at  coming  back  in  such  ignomin- 
ious plight,  but  he  made  the  best  of  it. 

"I  am  awfully  sorry,  Gordon,  if  it  is  your  canoe.  It 
must  have  been  pretty  frail,  though,  to  go  to  pieces  at  a 
mere  scratch." 

"She's  the  finest  cedar  canoe  to  be  found  in  the  city  of 
Boston,  and  it  would  take  more  than  a  mere  scratch  to  do 
her  up  this  way.  From  appearances  I  should  say  you  had 
pounded  round  on  the  rocks  pretty  freely,"  growled  Neal, 
who  had  turned  the  boat  upside  down,  and  was  examining 
it  carefully. 

Bronson  stooped  over  him.  For  the  moment  they  were 
alone. 

"  Of  course  I  would  feel  worse  about  it  if  it  were  auy 
one's  but  yours.  As  it  is,  we'll  just  call  ten  off  that  fifty 
still  owing.  That  will  go  towards  repairs.  More  than 
cover  them,  I  should  say." 

Then  he  sauntered  off,  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 

"What  a  cad  the  fellow  is!"  muttered  Neal.  "It  would 
give  rue  real  pleasure  to  knock  him  down." 

"I  heard  him,"  said  Cynthia.  Her  cheeks  were  red 
and  her  blue  eyes  had  grown  very  dark.  "He  is  au  odi- 
ous, hateful  creature,  and  I  de-spise  him  !" 

Having  delivered  herself  of  this,  Cynthia  felt  better. 

They  all  went  home  soon  afterwards,  Edith  leaving  ear- 
lier iu  the  carriage  with  Mrs.  Franklin,  for  her  shoes  and 
skirts  were  too  wet  for  her  to  wait  for  the  slower  move- 
ments of  the  canoes.  It  was  an  unfortunate  ending  to  the 
day,  and  Edith  was  uncomfortable  also  about  her  conversa- 
tinn  with  Brouson.  She  knew  that  she  ought  not  to  have 
listened  to  a  word  of  it. 

She  wondered  if  id  were  really  true  that  Neal  was  in  dif- 
ficulty. She  thought  she  must  talk  it  over  with  Cynthia 
that  night.  Of  course  Cynthia  would  stand  up  for  Xeal. 
that  went  without  saying,  but  it  was  always  a  relief  to 
Kdiih  to  talk  things  over  with  her. 

It  was  a  rather  silent  drive  home,  and  Mrs.  Franklin 
sighed  to  herself  when  Edith  barely  replied  to  her  remarks. 
li  seemed  perfectly  hopeless;  she  and  Edith  would  never 


858 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


grow  any  nearer  to  each  other;  but  there  was  nothing  to 
be  done. 

That  night,  when  the  girls  went  to  their  room,  Edith  was 
spared  the  necessity  of  opening  the  subject,  for  Cynthia 
began  at  once. 

"What  a  perfectly  hateful  creature  that  Brouson  is!  I 
don't  see  how  you  could  go  on  the  river  with  him,  Edith.  I 
think  you  got  well  paid  for  it." 

"I  don't  see  why  you  dislike  him  so,  C'ynthia.  You 
taUr  such  tremendous  prejudices.  He  is  awfully  hand- 
some." 

"Handsome!  I  don't  admire  that  style.  That  la-da- 
(la-it-is-I-just-please-look-at-me  kind  doesu't  go  down  with 
me." 

C'ynthia  thrust  her  hands  into  imaginary  pockets,  leaned 
languidly  against  the  bedpost,  and  rolled  her  eyes. 

"  Er — Miss  Franklin — carn't  I  persuade  you  to  go  out  on 
the  rivah  ?"  she  said,  with  an  exaggerated  manner  and  ac- 
cent, and  a  throaty  voice. 

Edith  laughed.     Cynthia  was  a  capital  mimic. 

"  I  like  a  broad  A,  and,  of  course,  I  never  would  use  any- 
thing else  myself,  but  his  is  broader  than  the  Mississippi. 
It  just  shows  it  isn't  natural  to  him.  To  hear  him  talk 
about  '  darmp  grarss,'  and  he'd  just  come  from  '  Sonth- 
i/;-////iton.'  He  is  a  regular  xlinrm  himself.  I  dare  say  he 
was  brought  up  to  say  'ca'm'  and  'pa'ru'  and  '  hain't  '  and 
'ain't.'" 

"Cynthia,  what  a  goose  you  are!" 

"Well,  I  can't  bear  him,  and  neither  can  Neal.  Jack 
doesu't  like  him  either." 

"There,  that  is  just  it.  You  are  so  influenced  by  Neal 
and  Jack.  Tony  Bronsou  spoke  very  nicely  of  Neal,  as  if  he 
were  a  true  friend  of  his." 

"Pooh!    Much  friend  h.-!" 

"Well,  h<-  did.  Cynthia,  and  that  is  just  what  I  want 
to  talk  over  with  you.  Neal  must  be  iu  some  terrible 
scrape." 

"Has  that  Bronsou  been  telling  you  about  that?"  cried 
Cynthia,  indignantly. 

"  Oh,  then  it  is  really  true  !    I  thought  it  must  be." 

"  No,  it  isn't — at  least,  not  what  Brousou  told  you.  I  am 
just  certain  that  whatever  lie  told  you  wasn't  true,"  said 
Cynthia,  who  felt  that  she  had  said  more  than  she  should. 
"  I  shouldn't  think  you  would  have  discussed  Neal  with  him. 
Neal  is  one  of  our  family." 

"I  didn't,"  said  Edith,  somewhat  curtly,  "though  I  don't 
exactly  see  why  you  should  speak  of  Neal  Gordon  as  one  of 
our  family.  I  told  Mr.  Brouson  I  preferred  not  to  talk 
about  him.  But  he  spoke  so  nicely  of  Neal,  and  said  he 
wanted  to  help  him,  and  lie  was  afraid  the  faculty  would 
write  about  him,  and  he  wanted  to  get  him  out  of  the  scrape 
if  he  could." 

"Oh,  the  hypocrite!  But  what  is  the  scrape?  Did  he 
say  :'" 

"No,  I  wouldn't  let  him.  But  it  is  absurd  to  call  him  a 
hypocrite,  Cynthia.  I  shall  never  believe  it  unless  you  tell 
me  why  you  think  so." 

"I  can't  do  that,  but  I  know  he  is," said  Cynthia,  stonily. 
"Yon  have  just  got  to  take  my  word  for  it,  for  I  can't  ex- 
plain." 

The  girls  talked  far  into  the  night,  but  Edith  was  not 
convinced.  She  felt  that  then;  was  something  at  the  bot- 
tom of  it  all,  for  Cynthia  could  uot  deny  it.  After  all,  she 
was  sorry.  Edith  liked  Neal,  a,  Gordon  though  he  was. 
But  she  ilid  not  doubt  that  he  was  in  a  difficulty  of  some 
kind. 

The  summer  was  over  and  the  glorious  autumn  leaves 
dropped  from  the  trees,  leaving  the  branches  bare  and  ready 
for  the  coining  of  snow.  One  could  see  the  course  of  the 
river  plainly  now  from  Oakleigh  windows.  Beautiful  Oc- 
tober was  swallowed  up  by  chill  November,  aud  the  wind 
grew-  biting.  One  was  glad  of  the  long  evenings,  when  the 
curtains  could  be  drawn  and  the  lamps  lighted  early  to  shut 
out  the  gray  skies  and  dreary  landscape. 

\eal  was  back  at  St.  Asaph's,  and  the  winter  work  had 
begun.  Cynthia  aud  Jack  weut  every  day  to  Boston,  and 
Edith  also  went  iu  three  times  a  week  for  lessons.  She 
objected  to  this  on  the  plea  of  expense,  much  as  she  desired 


a  thorough  education,  she  greatly  leave,!  her  step-mother 
bad  lii-ought  it  about.  Bui  her  father  reprimanded  her 
sharply  when  she  said  something  of  this,  and  insisted  that. 
she  should  do  as  he  desired. 

The  poultry  had  already  begun  to  bring  in  a  little  mon- 
ey, for  Jack  sold  a  few  "broilers"  I,,  his  mother  at  mai 

ket  prices,  though  she  usually  added  a  few   cents  iv  a 

pound. 

"  They  are  so  delicious,  Jack,"  said  she  ;  "better  than  1 
could  get  anywhere  else,  and  worth  the  moncv ." 

He  kept  his  accounts  most  carefully,  and  it  was  pleasant 
to  write  down  a  few  tigures  on  the  page  for  rei-eipis.  \\  Inch 
thus  far  had  presented  an  appalling  blank. 

In  due  time  came  a  present  to  Edith  from  Aunt  Betsey  : 
a  package  containing  au  old-fashioned  camel's-hair  scarf 
that  had  belonged  to  "Grandmother  Trinket!,"  and,  scat- 
tered among  its  folds,  five  ten-dollar  gold  pie.es. 

Government  had  proved  worthy  of  the  old  lady's  tnist, 
for  the  money  had  come  safely;  but  theu  she  had  artuallv 
addressed  the  package  clearly  and  correctly. 

Edith,  of  course,  was  much  pleased,  aud  notwithstanding 
her  aunt's  suggestion  that  she  should  place  it  in  the  sav- 
ings-bank, she  determined  to  expend  the  money  in  a  hand- 
some winter  suit  aud  hat.  She  dearly  loved  nice  clothes. 

Cynthia  looked  somewhat  scornfully  at  the  new  gar- 
ments. 

"If  Aunt  Betsey  sends  me  fifty  dollars,  you  won't  catch 
me  spending  it  on  finery,"  she  informed  her  family.  "  I  have 
other  things  to  do  with  HI.//  money.'' 

She  did  not  know  how  truly  she  spoke,  nor  what  would 
be  the  result  of  her  manner  of  spending  Aunt  Betsey's  pres- 
ent. 

The  fall  slipped  quickly  by,  and  the  Christmas  holidays 
drew  near.  Neal  was  coming  to  Oakleigh,  and  many  things 
were  planned  for  the  entertainment  of  the  young  people. 

Cynthia  went  about  fairly  bursting  with  excitement  and 
secrets.  This  was  her  best-loved  time  of  the  whole  year. 
and  she  was  making  the  most  of  it. 

The  25th  of  December  fell  on  a  Wednesday  this  year, 
and  Neal  came-  down  from  St.  Asaph's  on  Monday,  to  be  in 
good  season  for  the  festivities  of  Christmas  Eve.  1'lentv 
of  snow  had  fallen,  and  all  kinds  of  jolly  times  were  looked 
for. 

Outside  the  scene  was  wintry  indeed,  aud  the  white 
walls  of  Oakleigh  looked  cold  aud  dreary  in  the  setting  of 
snow  -which  lay  so  thickly  over  river,  meadow,  and  hill,  but 
in  the  house  there  was  plenty  of  life  and  cheery  warmth. 
Great  fires  burned  briskly  iu  all  the  chimneys,  and  the 
rooms  were  bright  and  cozy  with  warm-looking  eaipets 
and  curtains  and  comfortable  furniture.  There  had  been  a 
good  deal  done  to  the  house,  both  outside  and  in,  since  tin- 
coming  of  Mrs.  Franklin.  Edith  still  maintained  to  herself 
that  she  did  not  like  it,  but  every  one  else  thought  matters 
vastly  improved. 

"Hurray!  hurray !"  cried  Jack, rushing  intothe  house  ou 
Tuesday  and  slamming  down  his  books;  "good- by  to 
school  for  ten  days!  It  was  a  mean  shame  that  we  had  to 
have  school  at  all  this  week.  Neal,  you  \\ereiu  luck.  St. 
Asaph's  must  be  mighty  good  fun.  anyhow.  By-lhc-wa\." 
continued  he,  holding  his  chilled  hands  to  the  lite.  "  1  saw- 
that  Bronsoii  fellow  in  town  to-day — the  one  that  smashed 
your  canoe." 

"  Von  did  .'"  said  Neal,  glancing  up  from  his  book.  \\  hile 
Cynthia  gave •xclamation  of  disgust . 

"Yes. "said  Jack,  "anil  he  said  the  Morgans  had  asked 
him  out  here  for  the  holidays,  so  I  guess  \\  e  arc  in  Tor  an- 
other dose.  It  strikes  me  they  must  lie  prettv  hard  up  for 
company  to  want  him." 

Neal  said  nothing.  Edith  looked  up  from  her  work  and 
watched  him  sharply.  Imt  his  face  told  little. 

••  Hateful  thing !" exclaimed  Cynthia.  ••  1  would  like  to 
pack  my  trunk  and  lake  a  train  .M,I  of  HIV m, in  as  he  comes 
in  on  a  IM  it  her." 

••  1  can't  see  «  h\  \  ou  all  dislike  him  so."  ol,ser\  ed  Kdlth. 
•'  Yon  detest  him,  don'l  \  on,  N< 

"Oh,  Edith,  do  hush  !"  eried  C.\  nt  hia.  "  Yes.  of  coir 
does:  he's  hateful."  But  Neal  still  said  nothing,  and  : 
got  no  sa  t  Utart  ion. 


859 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Christmas  Eve  closed  iu  early.  At  about  four  o'clock  it 
began  to  snow,  and  the  wind  blew  great  drifts  against  the 
side  of  the  house.  Every  one  said  it  was  going  to  be  an 
old-fashioned  Christmas. 

It  was  the  custom  in  the  Franklin  household  to  look  at 
the  presents  that  night.  As  Cynthia  said,  when  arguing 
the  point  with  some  one  who  thought  it  a  shocking  idea 
to  see  one's  gifts  before  Christmas  morning,  it  made  it  so 
much  more  exciting  to  open  their  own  packages,  and  to 
look  at  their  treasures  by  lamplight.  Then  in  the  morning 
they  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  them  a  second  time,  and  of 
investigating  their  stockings,  which,  of  course,  were  hung 
ready  for  the  coming  of  Santa  Claus. 

After  supper  Jack  and  Neal  carried  in  the  great  clothes- 
basket  which  for  days  had  been  the  receptacle  for  pack- 
ages of  all  sizes  and  kinds,  those  that  had  come  by  post  and 
those  which  the  family  themselves  had  carefully  tied  up, 
until  now  it  looked  like  Santa  Claus's  own  pack. 

Mrs.  Franklin  presided  at  the  basket  and  read  the  names, 
and  when  the  colored  ribbons  were  untied  and  the  tempt- 
ing-looking white  parcels  were  opened,  there  were  shrieks 
and  exclamations  of  delight,  for  every  one  declared  that 
this  particular  gift  was  just  what  he  or  she  most  desired. 

Each  one  had  a  table  covered  with  a  white  cloth,  upon 
which  to  place  his  treasures,  and  when  all  was  done  the 
"long  parlor"  at  Oakleigh  looked  like  a  fancy  bazar, so 
many  and  varied  were  the  articles  displayed. 

There  was  an  odd-looking  package  addressed  to  Jack 
and  Cynthia.  It  was  heavy  and  covered  with  postage- 
stamps  iu  consequence,  and  proved  to  be  a  large  box  stuffed 
with  straw. 

"What  under  the  sun  is  it?  Of  course  it's  from  Aunt 
Betsey, "said  Jack,  as  he  rooted  down  into  the  hay, scatter- 
ing it  in  all  directions.  Out  came  what  appeared  to  be  an 
egg  tied  up  with  old-fashioned  plaid  ribbon,  and  an  an- 
cient-looking beaded  purse.  The  purse  was  marked  "Cyn- 
thia," so  Jack  appropriated  the  egg,  but  with  an  exclama- 
tion of  chagrin. 

"  She  is  sending  coals  to  Newcastle,"  said  he.  "  Aunt 
Betsey  must  have  thought  it  was  Easter.  But  it  is  the 
queerest-feeling  egg  I  ever  came  across.  It's  as  heavy  as 
lead." 

He  shook  it  and  held  it  up  to  the  light. 

" Ha,  ha !"  said  he ;  "a  good  egg !  I'd  like  to  have  the 
machine  packed  with  just  such  eggs." 

Inside  were  ten  five -dollar  gold  pieces,  and  Cynthia 
found  the  same  in  her  purse. 

"I  will  put  mine  away  for  a  'safety'  iu  the  spring," said 
Jack,  clinking  his  gold  with  the  air  of  a  miser,  and  exam- 
ining the  empty  egg-shells.  "  Isn't  Aunt  Betsey  a  daisy 
and  no  mistake?  Just  see  the  way  she's  fixed  up  this 
egg-shell;  she  cut  it  in  half  as  neat  as  a  pin.  I  don't  see 
how  she  ever  did  it." 

"  I  wish  I  had  an  Aunt  Betsey,"  remarked  Neal ;  "  those 
gold  pieces  would  come  in  pretty  handy  just  now." 

"Aunt  Betsey  is  so  fond  of  giving  gold,"  said  Cynthia. 
"She  always  says  it  is  real  money,  and  bills  are  nothing 
but  paper.  I  shall  put  mine  away  for  the  present,  until  I 
think  of  something  I  want  terribly  much,  and  then  I  will 
go  grandly  to  Boston  and  buy  it  like  a  duchess.  Goody 
Two-shoes,  but  I  feel  rich!" 

And  she  danced  gayly  up  and  down  the  room,  waving 
her  purse  iu  the  air. 

Neal  had  very  nice  presents,  but  he  was  disappointed  to 
find  that  there  was  no  money  among  them.  He  suspected, 
and  correctly,  that  his  sister  and  her  husband  had  thought 
it  wiser  uot  to  give  him  any  more  at  present. 

"Then  I'm  in  for  it,"  thought  he.  "I'll  have  to  ask 
Hessie,  and  there'll  be  no  end  of  a  row.  Of  course  she 
will  give  it  to  me  in  the  end,  but  it  would  have  been  nicer 
all  round  if  she  had  come  out  handsomely  with  a  Christ- 
mas check.  Of  course  these  skates  are  dandy,  and  so  is 
the  dress-suit  case  and  the  nobby  umbrella  and  the  sleeve- 
buttons;  but  just  at  present  I  would  rather  have  the  cash 
they  all  cost." 

He  said  something  of  this  afterwards  to  Cynthia. 

"  Brouson  is  screwing  me  for  all  he's  worth,"  said  he. 
"I'll  have  to  get  the  money  somehow,  and  fifty  dollars  is 


no  joke.  Of  course,  I'm  uot  going  to  take  off  the  ten  lie 
so  kindly  offered  for  the  canoe;  I'd  like  to  see  myself! 
If  Hessie  doesn't  see  matters  in  the  same  light  I'll  have  to 
do  something  desperate.  But,  of  course,  she  will  give  it 
to  me." 

"Neal,"  said  Cynthia,  impulsively,  "if  mamma  doesn't 
give  you  the  money  you  must  borrow  it  of  me.  There  is 
that  fifty  dollars  Aunt  Betsey  has  given  me.  You  can 
have  it  just  as  well  as  not." 

"Cynthia,  you're  a  brick,  and  no  mistake,"  said  Neal, 
looking  at  her  affectionately,  "  but  you  know  I  wouldn't 
take  your  money  for  the  world.  You  must  think  me  a 
low-down  sort  of  fellow  if  you  think  I  would." 

"  How  absurd !  It  is  a  great  deal  better  to  owe  it  to  me 
instead  of  to  a  stranger  like  Bronson,  or  any  one  else.  I'm 
sure  I  think  of  you  just  as  if  you  were  my  brother,  and 
Jack  wouldn't  mind  taking  it.  You  can  pay  it  back  when 
you  get  your  own  money." 

"Yes,  nine  years  from  now,"  said  Neal.  "No,  indeed, 
Cynth,  I'll  have  to  be  pretty  hard  up  before  I  borrow  of  a 
girl."  ' 

"I  think  you  are  too  bad,"  said  Cynthia,  almost  crying. 
"  I  don't  see  the  difference  between  a  girl  and  anybody 
else.  I  don't  need  the  money ;  I  don't  know  what  to  buy 
with  it.  I  would  just  love  to  have  you  take  it.  It  would 
be  lovely  to  think  my  money  had  paid  your  debts,  and 
then  you  could  start  all  fresh.  Please,  .Neal,  say  you  will 
if  mamma  does  uot  give  it  to  you." 

But  Neal  would  not  promise. 

[TO  BE   CONTINUED.] 


A   MILITARY    BICYCLE    CORPS'    OUTING. 

THE  bicycle  corps  of  a  military  academy  near  Chicago 
recently  made  a  journey  on  wheels  from  that  city  to 
Springfield  and  back  again,  camping  at  night  wherever 
darkness  overtook  them,  foraging  among  the  neighboring 
farm-houses  for  their  subsistence,  and  conducting  them- 
selves on  the  whole  as  if  they  were  actually  in  the  field  on 
active  service.  A  guard  was  posted  as  soon  as  camp  was 
pitched  iu  the  evening,  and  sentries  kept  watch  throngh- 


WATCHING    THE    EVENING    POT    BOIL. 


SCO 


TEE   BICYCLE   CORPS   AT   DRESS   PAKADE. 


out  the  night,  keeping  away  all  intruders,  and  seeing  to  it 
that  none  of  the  cadets  ran  the  lines  to  visit  a  uear-liy  vil- 
lage, or  to  milk  some  unprotected  cow  in  a  neighboring 
farm  -  yard.  The  boys  did  their  own  cooking,  which  at 
times  was  marvellous  to  look  upon,  and  fearful  to  digest ; 
but  they  all  lived  through  the  experience,  and  got  back  to 
the  school  in  the  best  of  health  and  condition.  A  week 
was  occupied  in  making  the  trip,  and  the  experience  and 
general  knowledge  of  bicycling  which  the  cadets  acquired 
in  that  time  was  such  as  they  doubtless  could  never  have 
obtained  in  any  other  way.  There  were  seventeen  in  the 
party,  including  the1  Major  commanding,  who  was  one  of 
the  instructors  at  the  academy,  and  each  wheelman  carried 
about  thirty  pounds  of  baggage,  consisting  of  a  change  of 
under-clothing,  a  blanket,  a  shelter  tent,  arms,  .and  cooking 
utensils.  The  incidents  of  the  journey  were  many,  and  the 
element  of  adventure  was  not  lacking. 

Of  course  there  were  a  number  of  accidents  to  the  ma- 
chines, one  of  the  most  serious  occurring  about  the  fourth 
or  fifth  day  out  when  about  eighty  miles  from  Springfield. 
It  was  a  creeping  tire,  and  no  amount  of  cement  ortire-tape 
could  be  made  to  stop  it.  A  total  of  eight  valves  was  torn 
off  in  that  one  day,  which,  with  the  delay  caused  by  punc- 
tures from  thorn-Ledges,  cost  a  great  loss  of  time.  When 
within  ten  miles  of  Springfield,  with  a  heavy  thunder-storm 
coming  up  behind  them,  the  tires  of  two  wheels  got  badly 
punctured,  and  a  halt  had  to  be  called.  It  was  thought 
that  repairs  could  be  quickly  effected,  but  this  proved  not 
to  be  the  case,  and  the  rnaiu  body  was  thereupon  ordered 
to  push  on,  while  the  disabled  riders  were  left  to  complete 
their  patching,  with  orders  to  catch  up  as  soon  as  possible. 
But  night  and  the  storm  came  on  rapidly,  and  under  these 
unfavorable  circumstances  the  cadets  were  unable  to  locate 
the  punctures.  They  therefore  determined  to  camp  for  the 
night,  and  having  found  shelter  behind  a  hay-stack,  they 
put  up  their  shelter  tents  over  their  wheels  and  slept  com- 
fortably in  the  storm  all 
night.  The  next  morning 
repairs  were  effected,  and 
by  fast  riding  the  strag- 
glers overtook  their  com- 
panions. 

The  foraging  was  a 
source  of  about  as  much 
fun  to  the  boys  as  the 
cooking.  The  first  even- 
ing of  the  trip  the  for- 
agers brought  back  to 
camp  among  other  things 
a  bag  of  oatmeal.  A  spe- 
cial order  was  given  to  the 
guard  that  uigbt  to  notify 
the  three-o'clock  detail  to 
put  the  oatmeal  on  the 
fire  to  cook  slowly  at  3.30 
A.M.  The  guard  obeyed 
lii>  instructions  as  far  as 
they  went,  but  not  being  a 
cook,  and  having  received 
no  further  orders,  he  did 
not  look  at  the  oatmeal 
again,  with  the  result  that 
this  particular  breakfast 
dish  was  not  much  of  a  suc- 
cess. But  sleeping  in 


the  open  air  sharpens  the  appetite,  and  burnt  as  it  was,  the 
oatmeal  was  entirely  consumed.  On  another  occasion — 
this  time  it  was  for  luncheon — foragers  were,  as  usual,  de- 
tailed to  supply  the  commissariat.  All  who  had  been  sent 
out  returned  to  camp  within  a  reasonable  time,  except  two, 
and  it  was  soon  deemed  expedient  by  the  Major  to  send  a 
corporal's  guard  in  search  of  these.  The  guard  remaining 
absent  very  much  longer  than  seemed  necessary,  the  Major 
himself  mounted  his  wheel  and  started  to  gather  in  the  de- 
linquents. He  found  them,  corporal's  guard  and  all,  com- 
fortably  seated  behind  a  hay-stack  eating  pork  and  beans 
and  cold  chicken,  and  drinking  fragrant  hot  coffee  from  a 
geuerous  earthen  pot.  The  farmers  all  along  the  route 
were  most  geuerous  to  the  bicyclists.  In  a  number  of  cases 
they  absolutely  refused  to  accept  any  pay  for  provisions 
furnished.  At  a  place  near  Bloomington  the  country  peo- 
ple were  notably  hospitable.  One  man  brought  to  the 
camp  seven  dozen  eggs,  another  six  spring  chickens,  and 
another  a  pail  of  milk,  while  one  thoughtful  mother  sent 
all  the  pies  she  had  in  the  house.  Then  the  good  natives 
sat  around  on  the  grass  and  watched  the  boys  cook  and 
eat. 

Wherever  it  was  possible  to  do  so,  camp  was  pitched  near 
water.  One  of  the  prettiest  spots  found  was  on  the  shore 
of  the  Kaukakee  River,uear  Wilmington,  where  the  corps 
brought  up  late  one  afternoon  after  a  hot  and  dusty  ride. 
Tents  were  never  before  so  quickly  raised,  and  a  minute 
later  the  quiet  stream  was  being  churned  into  foam  by  the 
swimmers.  At  Lincoln  the  camp  was  on  State  property. 
and  the  boys  had  the  use  of  the  National  Guard's  swimming 
pool.  But  this  was  not  the  only  courtesy  they  received  at 
the  bands  of  the  militia.  At  this  same  Camp  Lincoln  tin- 
Adjutant -General's  department  had  provided  good-sized 
tents  for  the  bicyclists,  with  extra  blankets,  and  a  cooking- 
stove,  on  which  hot  coffee  was  steaming  when  the  corps  ar- 
rived. Further  on  iu  the  run  the  same  hospitality  was 


A   QUIET   CAMP    BY    THE    \VAV. 


861 


HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE 


listen 


shown.  At  Streator  a  good-natured  merchant  distributed 
free  soda-water  checks  to  all,  and  as  many  as  each  Wanted. 
One  lady  invited  the  cadets  into  her  house  and  gave  them 
cake  and  lemonade,  and  had  all  the  girls  of  the  neighbor- 
hood in  to  serve  it.  The  notes  of  the  ''Assembly  Call  "  w  ere1 
mighty  unwelcome  sounds  that  afternoon. 

But  besides  the  fun  and  the  exercise  and  healthfulness 
of  the  journey,  a  good  deal  of  useful  information  was  ab- 
sorbed. On  the  run  out  from  Chicago  the  road  follow- 
ed the  line  of  the  new  drainage  canal,  giving  all  a  good 
opportunity  to  witness  the  blasting  and  the  working 
of  the  giant  mac.liine  shovels.  At  Springfield  the  corps 
visited  the  Legislature,  then  in  session,  and  the  home  of 
President  Lincoln.  They  were  also  received  by  the  Gover- 
nor. At  Joliet  they  were  taken  through  the  penitentiary, 
and.  among  other  souvenirs  of  the  place,  each  one  carried 
away  a  piece  of  striped  cloth  from  the  tailor  shops.  These 
pieces  did  important  duty  later  in  the  journey,  most  of 
them  returning  to  Chicago  in  the  form  of  patches  to  the 
w  ell- worn  uniforms. 

On  the  whole  the  trip  proved  most  successful,  and  there 
is  not  much  those  boys  don't  know  to-day  about  the  hand- 
ling of  bicycles. 


A   PILOT'S  STORY. 

FOR  a  number  of  years  I  have  been  a  traveller  on  the 
North  River  ferry-boats  running  between  New  York 
and  Jersey  City.  One  of  the  pleasures  of  these  short  trips 
has  been  in  my  interest  and  admiration  for  the  skilful  way 
in  which  such  large,  unwieldy  boats  are  handled  by  their 
pilots.  The  tides  in  the  river  are  at  times  very  strong, 
and  especially  so  near  the  ferry  slips.  To  prevent  mishaps 
it  requires  the  most  careful  manoeuvring,  as  a  small  error 
of  judgment  might  send  the  heavily  laden  boat  crashing 
into  the  bulkheads.  Such  an  accident  would  endanger 
the  lives  of  the  people  on  board. 

When  the  heavy  gong  sounds,  and  the  rumble  of  the 
paddle-wheels  stops,  and  the  boat  glides  silently  over  the 
water,  it  is  then  that  the  pilot  and  his  engineer  are  on  the 
alert — one  with  his  hand  on  the  wheel,  moving  it  this  way 
and  that,  and  the  other  with  his  hand  on  the  lever  bar, 
ready  to  back  water  or  go  ahead,  according  to  his  sig- 
nals. 

I  remember  a  story  that  a  pilot  told  me,  of  which  he  was 
the  hero.  He  did  not  tell  it  boastiugly,  but  in  a  simple, 
quiet  way,  and  not  before  a  great  deal  of  persuasion  was 
brought  to  bear  upon  him.  We  were  standing  at  the  time 
on  the  lower  deck  of  a  ferry-boat  belonging  to  the  line 
upon  which  he  was  then  employed.  Pointing  to  a  grimy 
young  bootblack  who  was  industriously  polishing  away, 
he  said:  "At  one  time  I  polished  boots  the  same  as  that 
youngster  is  doing  there.  I  loved  the  boats  and  the 
crowds,  but  more  especially  I  loved  to  watch  the  pilot  and 
the  engineer  at  work.  To  see  the  latter  polishing  and  oil- 
ing his  machinery  as  carefully  as  a  mother  would  dress  a 
baby  was  my  chief  enjoyment.  I  dare  say  I  knew  every 
part  of  the  engine  as  well  as  he  did,  or  at  least  I  thought 
so,  and  many  a  shine  I  let  pass  simply  to  see  him  work  the 
boat  in  and  out  of  the  slip.  This  curiosity,  or  rather  in- 
terest, on  my  part  stood  me  in  good  stead  at  one  time,  as 
you  will  see.  We  were  unusually  crowded  on  the  trip 
when  my  stroke  of  good  luck  took  place,  both  gangways 
running  past  the  engine-room  being  choked  up  with  horses 
and  wagons. 

"Most  of  the  drivers  had  gone  forward,  and  I  sat  in  my 
usual  place  on  the  ledge  at  the  engine-room  door  alone. 
Hang!  the  first  bell  sounded  to  reduce  her  to  half  speed, 
and  Iglanced  around  to  watch  the  engineer  shut  off  .strain. 
He  was  sitting  facing  the  engine  in  his  arm-chair,  his  ehin 
in  his  hand,  and  his  arm  resting  on  the  side  of  the  chair. 
I  was  surprised  to  see  that  he  made  no  move,  and,  think- 
ing be  was  asleep,  I  ran  in  to  shake  him.  By  this  time 
the  pilot,  evidently  thought  something  was  wrong,  and  the 
big  bell  sounded  twice,  meaning,  as  you  probably  know,  to 
slop  the  engine.  I  could  not  make  the  engineer  move, 
and.  \\itliont  hesitating,  I  stepped  across  to  the  engine, 


and  grasping  the  wheel,!  shut  off  the  steam  and  discon- 
nected the  eccentrics. 

"Of  course  the  engine  stopped,  and  the. pilot,  thinking 
everything  was  all  right,  commenced  to  send  down  his 
signals.  I  was  a  little  frightened — more  at  the  idea  of  my 
working  the  big  engine  than  at  making  any  mistakes,  for 
I  knew  exactly  what  to  do.  Well,  we  had  some  trouble 
making  the  slip,  and  I  had  to  back  her  out.  I  can  tell  you, 
working  that  lever  bar  was  no  easy  job.  Then  came  the 
sharp  tinkle  for  full  speed,  and  shortly  I  had  her  well  out 
into  the  river.  Then  came  the  hells  to  stop  her,  and  again 
to  reverse  and  go  ahead  under  half  speed. 

"By  that  time  I  was  very  tired,  hut  no  longer  nervous, 
and  when  we  again  ueared  the  slip  and  the  welcome  bell 
to  stop  the  engine  sounded,  I  was  very  glad.  The  double- 
signal  to  back  water  came,  and  I  pushed  the  lever  bar  up 
and  down  twice  before  I  got  my  last  signal  to  stop.  When 
I  heard  the  rattle  of  the  chains  as  they  tied  her  in  the 
slip  I  was  worn  out,  and  it  seems  to  me  I  must  have  faint- 
ed, for  when  I  came  to  it  was  in  the  presence  of  the  pilot 
and  some  of  the  officers  of  the  line.  They  told  me  the  en- 
gineer had  died  of  heart-disease ;  and  in  recognition  of  my 
services  they  placed  me  at  school  and  gratified  my  ambi- 
tion to  become  a  pilot,  as  you  see."  HUBERT  EAUL. 


CORPORAL    FRED.* 

A  Story  of  the  Riots. 

BY     CAPTAIN     CHARLES     KING,     U.S.A. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

minutes  later,  while  police  and  firemen,  both  pro- 
tected  by  the  First  Battalion,  were  devoting  their  en- 
ergies to  checking  the  flames  that  were  rapidly  sweeping 
through  the  great  repair  shops,  and  the  other  two  battalions 
of  the  regiment  were  clearing  the  blazing  freight-yards  of 
the  last  skulkers  of  the  mob,  the  surgeon  had  established  a 
temporary  field-hospital  in  the  open  enclosure  between  the 
main  entrance  and  the  yards.  Thither  had  been  driven 
the  two  ambulances,  conspicuous  by  the  red  cross  of  Geneva. 
Here, feebly  moaning,  lay  poor  Jim,  kicked  and  clubbed  into 
most  unrecognizable  pulp.  Here  beside  him  knelt  Fred, 
still  praying  for  tidings  of  his  father.  Slinking  away  from 
the  scene  of  their  recent  triumph  the  rioters  fled  before  the 
solid  ranks  of  the  troops, only  to  regather.  though  in  smaller 
force,  and  resume  the  work  of  pillage  and  destruction 
farther  along  the  line.  And  now  the  Colonel  began  to  ap- 
preciate the  full  effect  of  orders  to  serve  under  police  in- 
struction. First  he  had  to  send  Major  Flint  with  his  bat- 
talion to  report  to  Police  Captain  Murray  a  mile  away  in 
one  direction.  Then  Major  Allen  with  the  second  was 
despatched  far  out  to  Prairie  Grove.  Ten  minutes  more 
and  a  third  detachment  was  de'inamled  to  assist  Police 
Sergeant  Jaeger,  now  struggling  with  the  strikers  at  the 
elevators  along  the  canal,  and  when  ten  o'clock  came  the 
Colonel  with  his  staff,  his  hospital,  and  something  like  a 
dozeu  officers  and  men,  whose  heads  were  cut  by  stones 
and  coupling-pins,  had  just  one  company  left  in  his  imme- 
diate command.  "B''had  gone  to  the  Prairie  A\enue 
crossing,  where  a  mail-train  was  stalled,  and  ••  I, ."  Fred's 
own,  was  posted  at  the  storage  warehouse,  halt  a  mile 
northward.  Fred  himself  still  remained  by  his  brother's 
side,  while  police  and  firemen,  lantern-bearing,  were  search- 
ing through  what  was  left  of  the  long  line  of  repair  shops 
in  vain  quest  of  the  old  foreman.  With  Fred,  too,  by  this 
time  were  his  mother  and  sister  Jessie.  Poor  little  Billy, 
led  home  by  sympathizing  women,  had  told  his  story,  and 
the  brave  wife  and  mother,  leaving  to  the  elder  daughter 
the.  duty  of  caring  for  the  house,  had  taken  Jess  and  made 
her  way  through  the  now  scattering  crowd,  through  the 
still  blazing  yards,  through  the  friendly  lines  of  National 
Guardsmen,  over  the  well-known  pathway  to  the  shops, 
there  to  take  her  place,  by  her  stricken  first-born's  side.tear- 
*  Begun  iu  HARPER'S  KOUND  TABLE  No.  821. 


802 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


fully,  prayerfully  waiting  for  tidings  of  the  husband  and 
father, even  while  devotedly  tending  the  son.  By  10.15  the 
flames  about  the  buildings  were  extinguished,  and  I  lie  fire- 
men turned  their  attention  to  the  blazing  ruins  in  the 
yards.  And  now  the  searching  parties  were  raking  through 
the  burued-out  sections  of  the  shops  iu  the  belief  that 
there,  and  only  there,  could  old  Wallace  be  found.  Time 
and  again,  as  some  one  caine  out  from  the  grimy  gateway, 
the  sorrowing  woman  lifted  her  white,  piteous  face  in  mute 
appeal.  Jessie,  weeping  sorely,  was  clasping  Jim's  blood- 
stained, nerveless  hand.  Fred  had  gone  to  join  the  search- 
ers. Far  down  the  tracks  toward  Prairie  Grove  the  glare 
of  new  conflagrations  reddened  the  skies.  From  up  the 
yards  near  the  warehouses  came  stories  of  fresh  gatherings 
of  the  mobs.  The  police  thought  more  soldiers  should  bo 
sent  there,  and  the  Colonel  said  he  had  but  one  company 
left.  Out  iu  front  of  the  shops  an  elevated  iron  foot-bridge 
crossed  the  freight-yards.  It  had  been  red  hot  iu  places 
uutil  the  firemen  turned  their  streams  and  cooled  it  off. 
Then  Fred's  friend,  the  signal  sergeant,  with  a  couple  <.f 
men, had  mounted  it,  and  sent  their  night  torches  swing- 
ing. "Hurrah  for  Colton,'' said  the  Colonel.  "That  boy's 
worth  his  weight  in  gold."  for  presently  a  bugler  came 
running  up  to  report  the  sergeant  had  established  commu- 
nication with  Prairie  Grove, and  soon  after  with  Captain 
Wagner's  post  far  up  the  tracks.  The  first  message  from 
below  told  of  fresh  fires  and  outbreaks,  as  was  to  be  ex- 
pected. The  first  from  above  set  the  Colonel's  eyes 
adancing. 

"  Police  report  rioters  gathering  iu  force  about  the  Amity 
Wagon-Works.  Twelve  loaded  cars  on  their  tracks  there. 
Think  they  mean  mischief." 

"Hullo!"  cried  the  Colonel.  "Where's  Corporal  Wal- 
lace T" 

And  poor,  sad- faced  Fred,  just  back  from  unsuccessful 
searching, and  now  kneeling  by  bis  mother's  side, promptly 
sprang  to  his  feet  and  approached  his  commander. 

"What's  in  those  cars  at  the  Amity  Works,  corporal ? 

"New  wagons,  sir.  Loaded  yesterday  and  ought  to  have 
started  last  uight,  but  they  couldn't  get  anything  out." 

"  I  can't  bear  to  take  you  away  from  your  mother,  my 
lad,  until  we  hear  of  your  father ;  but  I  feel  sure,  somehow, 
that  he  is  safe,  and  the  doctors  tell  me  your  brother  will 
recover,  though  he  may  be  laid  up  some  time.  It  is  more 
than  likely  we'll  be  called  on  for  more  duty  presently,  and 
if  we  are" — and  here  he  glanced  keenly  at  the  young  fel- 
low from  under  the  brim  of  his  scouting  hat. 

"I'm  read.y,  sir," said  onr  corporal,  grimly.  "I'd  welcome 
a  chance,"  he  added, as  he  glanced  back  at  the  group  about 
his  brother's  battered  form,  at  his  mother's  white  face,  and 
Jessie's  weeping  eyes;  anil  just  then  Jim  feebly  rolled  his 
bandaged  head  from  side  to  side,  and  his  swollen  lips  were 
seen  to  be  striving  to  form  some  words.  Eagerly  the  mo- 
ther bent  her  ear  to  catch  them.  All  others  ceased  their 
low-toned  chat ;  all  eyes  seemed  fastened  on  them — anxious 
mother  and  stricken  sou.  Only  she  to  whom  his  earliest. 
baby  lispiugs  were  intelligible,  inexpressible  music  could 
understand  his  meaning  now. 

"  Did  father — get  home  safe  ?" 

Then  Jessie's  sobs  broke  forth  afresh,  and  a  young  rail- 
wayman, whose  bruises  the  surgeon  had  been  dressing, 
could  stand  it  no  longer.  He  was  one  of  the  striking  traiu- 
uieu,  and  knew  Jim  well. 

••  Mrs.  Wallace,"  he  cried,  struggling  to  his  feet  and  com- 
ing towards  her,  "  I'm  a  Brotherhood  man  and  bound  to 
them  in  every  way,  but  I  can't  stand  this.  I  know  w  bat's 
happened,  though  I  had  no  hand  in  it,  as  God's  my  judge! 
The  old  man's  sale,  ma'am — sate  and  out  of  harm's  way, 
though  I  don't  know  where.  ,lim  wrapped  him  in  bis  own 
coal  with  our  badge  on  it, ami  run  him  out  thi.mgh  the 
south  gate  when  they  burst  in  here.  I  saw  him.  Tbere 
were  only  a.  tew  fellows  down  there,  and  lie-  got  him  out,  all 
right,  and  made  him  promise  to  keep  away.  I  saw  the  old 
man  cross  the  street  into  the  lumber-yards, aud  gave  Jim 
m\  vrord  I  wouldn't  peach.  I'm  no  traitor  to  our  fellows, 
hut  I  couldn't  see  the  old  man  hurt."  (And  here  his  eyes 
wandered  to  where  .lessie  crouched  beside  her  brother,  i 
"I  tried  to  keep  'em  oil' from  Jim,  but  he  would  go  back 


ami   brave  them, and   then-  were  m.-n  among   them   n 

could  influence  after  once  Stoltz  said  hisi-ay.    1  got  M,. 

he  added,  half  in  sham.-,  "  battling  against  •  ow  o  pi 

try  ing  to  save  him,  but.  they  were  fat  I lauy  for  both  of 

us.       They    were,    madlikc.  and    most,  of  them    were   black 
guards  we'd  not  be  seen  with  an  \  other  time.    They  dow  ned 
him,  and    nearly  kicked    the    I  if,,   out  of  him.  because    he 
wouldn't    say  which  way  the  old  man  went    or  where   he'd 
hid  him." 

Then,  at  least,  the  old  foreman  was  not  in  the  ruins 
might,  indeed,  have  escaped  from  the  rioters.  V,  i  Mi,. 
Wallace,  was  not  much  comforted.  Again  and  again  she 
implored  Jim  to  say  whether  he  had  designated  any  par- 
ticular place  as  his  father's  refuge;  but  Jim  had  drifted  nil 
again  into  the  borderland  between  the  oilier  wurld  ami 
this.  His  ears  were  deaf  to  her  appeal.  If  father  had  been 
spared, she  said, surely  he  would  have  made'  his  uay  home 
to  reassure  them.  In  vain  Fred  pointed  out  that  to  do  so 
he  must  again  venture  through  the  mile-long  yard  of  riot 
ers,  tiring  cars, and  mad  with  glut  and  t  rinmph.  He  would 
surely  have  been  recognized,  and  by  that  time  every  strik- 
ing sw  ili  hniau  aud  trainman  knew  it  was  he  w  ho  held  the 
throttle  of  the  first  engine  to  essay  to  break  the  morning's 
blockade — more  than  enough  to  ruin  him.  They  might. 
not  themselves  use  violence, but  they  or  their  women  would 
point  him,  out  to  the  bloodhounds  in  the  mob  men  who 
were  ready  for  any  deed  of  violence,  no  matter  how  brutal 
or  cowardly,  aud  the  brave  old  fellow  would  have  met  the 
martyr's  faJte  at  their  hands. 

"He  never  would  have  gone  and  left  poor  Jim  to  go  hack 
and  face  them  all  alone,"  cried  Mrs.  Wallace , breaking  dow  u 
at  last;  and  then  Fred  had  to  tell  her  that  Jim  was  him- 
self a  leader  iu  the  strike,  a  personal  friend  of  Steinman. 
and  completely  influenced  by  him.  Neither  father  nor 
Jim  believed  that  they  would  assault  cue  of  their  own 
Brotherhood,  the  man  whose  contributions  had  exceeded 
those  of  any  other,  aud  whose  heart  had  been  hot  for  ac- 
tion days  before.  They  did  not  realize  that  men  are  turn- 
ed to  tigers  at  the  touch  of  blood  or  riot,  aud  that  for  lack 
of  other  material — just  as  the  mob  of  Paris  guillotined  their 
own  leaders  when  gentler  blood  was  all  expended — so  would 
these  mad  dogs  turn  for  victims  upon  their  kind. 

"Go  you  and  search, "said  Inspector Morrissey  to  two  of 
his  bluecoats.  "You  know  every  hiding-place  about  hen-. 
Find  him,  or  trace  of  him  quick  as  you  can." 

And  the  wearied  officers  turned  away.  They  had  had  a 
wretched  time  of  it  for  over  thirty  hours,  and  not  a  wink 
of  sleep.  Scattered  by  twos  aud  threes  they  had  bceu  ex- 
pected to  preserve  the  peace  even  though  repeatedly  cau- 
tioned not.  to  use  force.  An  important  elect  inn  was  close 
at  hand.  The  city  officials,  now  seeking  re-elect  ion,  bad  for- 
feited long'  since  the  respect  of  the  educated  classes  of  the 
community,  and  their  only  hopes  lay  now  wiih  the  nival 
mass  of  the  populace  in  which  the  strikers  were  I 
represented,  and  from  which  their  supporters  and  sympa- 
thizers were  without  exception  drawn.  li  would  not  do 
to  club  or  intimidate,  and  thereby  uli'eiid  these  thousands 
of  voters,  ami  the  police,  brave  and  determined  individu- 
ally, and  long  schooled  iu  handling  the  ••tough"  element, 
now  found  themselves  absolutely  crippled  and  hampered. 
lirst  by  a  feeling  of  personal  friendship  for  many  of  tin- 
railway  men  themselves,  Second  by  absence  "I '  n  ,.  r  .sup- 
port or  approval  when  it  came  (o  handling  t  he  i  ioters.  Not 
until  the  mob  bad  burst  all  hounds,  and  the  safety  oi'  the 
grea<  city  was  at,  stake  did  the  oflieials  ieali/e  the  force  of 
the  torrent  they  had  turned  loose. and  then  gave  reluctant. 
half-hearted  orders  to  suppress  the  riot  e\cn  though  Bome- 
bo,l\  had  to  be  hurt.  When  at  last  the  oitj  tn»ins  were 
marched  to  the  several  scenes,  the  wearied  police  took  heart 
again,  and  many  of  them  went  to  work  with  then  old-time 
vim. 

Just  before  eleven  o'clock  Jim  was  tenderly  lifted  into 
one  of  the  regimental  ambulances,  and  witb  his  mother  and 
Jess  carefully  driven  overborne,  where  sympathi 

bors  gathered  and  ministered  to  i and  all.      Haifa 

of  Jim's    associates,  strikers    t  helll.selves,  but    appalle. 
disgusted  now  at    the    contemplation   of    the   resull   Ol 
established    thclnseh  uard     at     till 


863 


'DID    FATHER— GET 


SAFE?" 


while  others  eagerly,  fearfully  joined  in  the  search  for  the 
honored  old  Scotchman  who,  with  too  good  reason,  many 
feared,  had  fallen  a  victim  to  the  fury  of  the  rioters.  Far- 
ley, Jim's  brakeman,  had  not  been  seen  for  hours,  and  this 
was  significant.  Fred,  leaving  his  brother  safely  stowed 
away  in  bed,  with  all  possible  comfort  secured  for  the  night, 
kissed  his  mother's  tear-stained  face  and  told  her  he  must 
go.  She  clung  to  him  shuddering  a  moment,  yet  could  not 
say  no.  He  was  a  man  now,  just  twenty-one,  and  knew  his 
duty.  Had  not  the  Colonel  said  there  was  further  work 
ahead  ? 

It  came,  quickly  enough.  A  man  in  a  buggy  with  a 
prancing,  frightened  horse,  was  eagerly  importuning  the 
imperturbable  gray-mustached  Colonel,  as  Corporal  Fred 
returned  to  his  post,  aud  the  conversation  \vas  more  than 
interesting. 

"  I  /in IT  appealed  to  the  police.  They  say  they're  power- 
less. They've  got  all  they  can  do  now.  There's  two  com- 
panies of  your  regiment  right  there  near  them  within  four 
squares.  Colonel,  if  you  will  only  order  them  to  go  with 
me  we  can  disperse  that  mob,  and  save  the  plant,  cars,  and 
all." 

"How  many  rioters  are  there,  Mr. — Mr.  Manners  ?" 

"There  must  be  five  hundred  ;  five  hundred  at  least,  aud 
they've  set  tire  to  the  cars  twice,  aud  driven  off  the  firemen 
and  police." 

"But,  Mr.  Manners,  two  companies  of  /i«  soldiers  can't 
drive  away  five  hundred  strong  men;  and  I  understand 
you  spoke  of  uiy  men  to-day  as  such." 

"Don't  kick  a  mau  when  he's  down,  Colonel.  I  may  have 
said  something  foolish — any  man's  liable  to  make  mistakes  ; 
but  four  hundred  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  property  is 
burning  up  there,  and  my  watchmen  are  being  stoned  and 


killed.  We  discharged  some  bad  characters  last  week,  and 
they're  heading  the  mob  now." 

"Yes,  this  does  seem  to  give  your  discharged  men  a 
chance.  Now  there  were  two  or  three  given  their  walking 
papers  to-day,"  continued  the  Colonel,  with  provoking  cool- 
ness, his  lips  twitching  under  his  handsome  gray  mus- 
tache. 

"Oh,  for  heaven's  sake,  Colonel,  don't  rub  it  in!  I'll 
make  it  all  right  with  those  men.  Just  think  what's  hap- 
pened to  the  Amity  Works  all  the  time  you've  been  keep- 
ing me  waiting  aud  begging." 

"I  know  what's  been  happening, Mr.  Manners,"  said  the 
veteran  officer,  calmly,  "  and  you  don't  know  what  wouldn't 
have  happened  but  for  the  prompt  action  of  the  very  regi- 
ment you  saw  fit  to  ridicule,  and  the  very  men  you  kicked 
out  of  their  clerkships  because  they  obeyed  the  order  to 
turn  out,  as  it  turned  out,  to  save  you  and  your  works.  I 
ordered  two  companies  tin-re  twenty  minutes  ago.  The 
mob  scattered  at  their  coming,  and  not  a  dollar's  worth  have 
you  lost.  I  only  kept  you  here  out  of  danger  for  a  while, 
and  now,  if  you  please,  Corporal  Wallace  of  my  head- 
quarters party — with  whom  possibly  you're  acquainted — 
will  conduct  you  safely  back.  Jump  into  the  gentleman's 
buggy,  corporal.  Your  uniform  will  pass  him  through 
our  lines  without  detention.  Good -night,  Mr.  Manners. 
Next  time  we  send  a  summons  to  the  works,  it  '11  probably 
be  for  Sergeant  Wallace,  and  I  hope  to  hear  of  no  further 
objection  on  your  part." 

And  despite  sorrow  for  Jim  and  anxiety  about  his  father, 
Corporal  Fred  couldn't  help  feeling,  as  he  drove  with  his 
abashed  employer  swiftly  through  the  dim  yet  familiar 
streets,  that  life  had  some  compensation  after  all. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


864 


FIGHTING    THE     ELEMENTS. 


BY  W.  .1.  HENDERSON. 


•'  T  TELL  you  rlie  steamship  is  a  wonderful  machine." 

JL  That  was  the  exclamation  of  Mr.  Powers  as  he  sat 
on  the  deck  of  the  .V.  /Y/r/-.s7<«)v/.  Away  above  him  tow- 
ered the  three  funnels  from  which  the  brown  smoke  went 
swirling  away  to  leeward.  Away  below  him  throbbed  the 
giant  quadruple-expansion  engines, turning  the  twin  screws 
over  nearly  ninety  times  a  minute,  and  hurling  the  massive 
fabric  forward  through  the  sea  of  sapphire  and  silver  twen- 
ty-one knots  an  hour.  Little  Harry  Powers,  who  sat  beside 
his  grandfather,  thought  the  steamer  a  fine  thing  too,  but 
he  was  not  rjuite  so  much  impressed  with  it  as  was  the  old 
man.  because  he  had  not  lived  in  the  days  when  there  were 
no  steamers. 

"No  buffeting  head  winds  and  head  seas  for  months  at 
a  time  now,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Powers.  "Steam  is  invin- 
cible." 

"  Urn — yes,  generally,"  said  Captain  Ferris,  who  was  go- 
ing over  as  a  passenger  to  bring  out  from  Gourock  a  new 
yacht. 

"  Why  not  always  ?"  asked  Mr.  Powers. 

"Well,  in  order  to  answer  that  question,"  replied  the 
Captain,  thoughtfully,  "I  must  tell  you  that  some  steam- 
ers are  not  as  large  and  powerful  as  others." 

"  Of  course  I  know  that,"  said  Mr.  Powers,  rather  impa- 
tiently, "  but  they  all  manage  to  get  across  in  defiance  of 
the  winds." 

"Perhaps  I'd  better  tell  you  of  an  instance  I  have  in 
mind,"  said  the  Captain. 

"  Do  so  by  all  means,"  answered  Mr.  Powers ;  and  Harry 
leaned  forward  attentively,  because  he  perceived  that  a 
yarn  of  the  sea  was  forth-coming.  Captain  Ferris  settled 
himself  comfortably  in  his  chair,  cast  a  look  around  the 
horizon,  and  then  launched  into  his  story. 


"Three  years  ago,"  lie  said,  "  1  was  in  Hamburg  in  com- 
mand of  tlie  steamship  llrixluir.  She  is  ,-i  vessel  of  alionl 
1200  tons,  and  is  in  the  carrying  trade,  though  she  occasion- 
ally takes  half  a  do/en  passengers  al'  low  rates.  I  was 
ready  to  get  under  way  for  \Y.w  Vm-li  when  u  man,  ae,  ,,, 
pa  i  lied  by  a  boy  about  (lie  age-  ol'y.mr  grandson  there,  came 
aboard  and  applied  for  passage,  lie  said  thai  lie  Uid  conn- 
to  Europe  on  business,  and  bad  received  word  thai  his  wife 
was  very  sick  in  New  York.  He  was  anxious  to  get  home, 
and  my  ship  was  the  tirst  that  was  going.  I  advised  hini 
to  wait  three  days  and  take  the  Hamburg-American  liner, 
which  would  arrive  fully  five  days  before  us  ;  Imt  he  said 
he  bad  riot  money  enough  to  go  that  way  except  in  the 
steerage,  and  he  could  not  think  of  doing  that  because  his 
boy's  health  was  none  too  good.  So,  of  course,  I  agreed  to 
take  the  two.  The  boy  looked  up  at  me  and  said, 

"  '  Thank  yon,  sir  ;  and  please  make  the  ship  hurry,  be- 
cause mamma  is  waiting  for  us.' 

"  I  promised  him  I'd  do  my  best,  and,  indeed,  I  did  make 
up  my  mind  to  push  the  ship  as  she'd  never  been  pushed 
before.  We  sailed  at  three  o'clock  on  June  28th — I  remem- 
ber that  date  well  enough.  It  was  a  lowering- damp  after- 
noon, with  a  brisk  southwesterly  wind,  and  as  soon  as  we 
got  fairly  out  into  the  North  Sea  the  ship  began  to  butt 
into  a  nasty  chop  that  sent  the  spray  flying  over  her  bo\\s. 
But  I  was  able  to  escape  the  worst  of  it  by  hugging  the 
Holland  coast,  and  so  got  down  into  the  English  Channel 
in  some  comfort.  But  now  it  was  no  longer  possible  to 
hug  the  coast,  for  that  would  have  carried  me  too  far  out 
of  my  course.  However,  the  Bristow  made  good  progress 
till  we  passed  Fastuet  Rock  and  got  well  out  into  the  At- 
lantic. And  there  our  troubles  began.  The  morning  of 
our  third  day  out  dawned  with  a  hard  low  sky,  a  dead 


FOB   TWO    WEEKS,  INCH    BY   INCH,  THE    "BKISTOW"   FOUGHT   AGAINST    A    SERIES    OF    Wlis TICKLV    GALE 

865 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


calm,  ami  a  deep,  long,  oily  swell  uuderrunning  the  ship. 
She  rolled  pitiably  indeed.  The  barometer  began  to  fall, 
and  the  wind  rose  and  became  very  unsettled.  I  think 
that  before  noon  it  blew  from  every  point  of  the  compass, 
and  some  of  the  gusts  were  regular  white  squalls.  The 
swell  was  running  from  the  south,  but  the  wind  was  chief- 
ly from  the  west,  southwest,  and  northwest.  Toward  even- 
in  s:  the  wind  settled  down,  and  by  dark  it  was  dead  calm. 
But  the  terriffic  swells  that  swept  up  from  the  south,  the 
gradual  fall  of  the  barometer,  and  the  lurid  state  of  the  sky 
told  me  that  there  was  a  lot  of  trouble  ahead  of  us  yet. 
We  were  about  400  miles  west  of  Fastnet  at  ten  o'clock, 
and  I  lay  down,  giving  my  first  officer  instructions  to  call 
me  in  case  the  wind  rose.  Just  before  midnight  I  was 
aroused,  and  went  on  deck  to  liud  the  wind  coming  in  short 
angry  blasts  from  the  uor'west.  At  midnight  it  came  out 
with  the  full  force  of  a  hurricane  right  in  our  teeth.  In  a 
short  time  a-  terrible  confused  sea  was  running.  It  was  a 
frightful  night.  At  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  a  thun- 
der-storm swept  over  with  the  gale.  Fierce  lightning  and 
a  deluge  of  rain  combined  to  make  an  appalling  scene. 
Daylight  found  the  ship  reeliug  and  staggering  over  huge 
jagged  walls  of  water  that  loomed  up  ahead  of  her  as  if 
they  would  swallow  her.  Just  after  four  o'clock  a  fearful 
sea  fell  bodily  over  the  starboard  quarter  and  stove  in  one 
side  of  the  cabin,  iilling  it  with  water.  I  saw  that  it  was 
madness  to  try  to  drive  the  ship  against  such  weather,  and 
I  hove  her  to.  When  I  went  to  my  breakfast,  Mr.  Howard, 
my  passenger,  and  his  son  were  there,  very  quiet  and  with, 
white  faces. 

"  '  Will  the  ship  sink,  Captain  ?'  asked  the  boy. 

"  '  Oh  no,'  I  answered ;  '  she's  all  right.' 

"  '  But  we  sha'n't  get  home  to  mamma  so  soon,'  murmured 
the  boy,  mournfully. 

"I  had  hove  the  ship  to  so  as  to  bring  the  damaged  side 
of  the  deck-house  to  leeward,  and  I  set  the  carpenter  at 
work  repairing  it.  We  were  hove  to  for  twenty-eight 
hours,  and  then,  the  weather  moderating  somewhat,  I  start- 
ed the  Sristoii'  ahead  at  half  speed.  We  had  drifted  back 
fully  seventy-live  miles,  and  as  we  did  not  make  more  than 
three  knots  an  hour  ahead,  it  took  us  fully  a  day  to  recover 
the  lost  ground.  Although  the  force  of  the  \viud  had  abated, 
it  was  still  blowing  a  gale,  and  the  sea  was  sufficiently  heavy 
to  impede  our  progress  very  much.  In  all  my  experience 
at  sea  I  have  never  met  with  such  heart-breaking  weather. 
If  the  wind  had  only  shifted  to  our  beam  I  would  have  been 
profoundly  grateful,  while  a  hurricane  on  our  quarter,  dis- 
turbing at  any  other  time,  would  have  filled  me  with  joy. 
That  boy's  pale  anxious  face  and  the  thought  of  the  sick 
mother  at  home  haunted  me  as  I  walked  the  reeling  bridge 
or  clung  to  its  rail,  and  held  my  breath  when  some  green 
wall  crashed  down  upon  our  forecastle  deck.  But  the 
westward  sky  seemed  to  be  made  of  chilled  steel,  and  out 
of  its  pitiless  lips  blew  one  gale  after  another,  and  all  full 
of  a  biting  cold  that  made  the  name  of  summer  a  foolish 
jest.  For  two  Weeks,  inch  by  inch,  the  Hristoic,  running 
her  engine  at  its  full  power,  fought  her  way  against  a  series 
of  westerly  gales.  The  decks  were  white  with  crusted  salt, 
and  the  iron-work  became  browned  with  rust,  until  the  ship 
began  to  look  old  and  haggard  from  her  struggle  with  the 
elements.  But  the  worst  had  not  come  yet.  Ou  the  sev- 
enteenth day  out,  while  I  was  at  my  dinner,  the  palr-faeed 
boy  and  his  fa! her  sitting  opposite  to  me  and  gazing  at  me 
in  mournful  silence,  the  chief  engineer  came  to  me  with  a 
grave  eniintciianee.  and  asked  me  to  step  aside  that  he  might 
speak  with  me. 

'"  Captain, 'said  he, 'I  am  sorry  to  tell  you  that  the  coal 
in  our  bunkers  is  getting  very  low,  and  that  unless  we 
make  better  headway  it  will  run  out  before  we  make 
port.' 

'"Cut  up  all  the  spare  wood  in  the  hold,' I  said, 'and 
feed  that  to  the  furnaces.' 

"The  engineer  went  away  shaking  his  head,  and  then 
the  boy  came  up  to  me  and  said, 

"  '  Captain,  are  we  erer  going  to  get  home  f 

"'Oh  yes.' I  said,  with  an  effort  to  appear  ehcerfnl;  'of 
course  \\  e  are.  We're  doing  very  well  now.' 

••  The  hoy  looked  at  me  reproachfully  and  walked  away. 


His  father  hadn't  said  a  word  to  me  for  two  days.  But  I 
declare  it  wasn't  my  fault.  Well,  you  may  think  we  had 
had  our  share  of  trouble,  but  we  were  not  through  yet. 
On  the  afternoon  of  July  20th  several  large  ice-floes  were 
.sighted,  and  that  night  the  ship  ran  into  a  dense  field  of 
ice.  By  this  time  most  of  our  spare  wood  had  been  burned, 
and  we  were  depending  largely  on  our  sails  to  carry  us 
along,  while  the  wind,  which  was  still  blowing  half  a  gale, 
was  almost  dead  ahead.  And  here  we  were  in  an  ice-field 
that  hemmed  us  in  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see.  The  tem- 
perature of  the  air  was  bitterly  cold,  and  it  seemed  as  if 
we  had  been  plunged  into  the  midst  of  arctic  regions.  The 
ice-floes  crashed  and  groaned,  gulls  whirled  phantomlike 
and  screaming  above  our  stained  spars,  and  all  the  time 
the  wind  blew  aguinst  us  as  if  some  supernatural  force 
were  bent  on  driving  ns  back.  On  the  evening  of  the  21st 
the  ship's  carpenter  came  to  nie  and  said, 

"  '  Captain,  there  are  six  inches  of  water  in  the  hold.1 

"  For  a  minute,  I  think,  I  could  not  speak,  for  this  new 
misfortune  quite  stunned  me. 

"  '  Have  you  found  the  leakf  I  asked  at  length. 

"  '  Not  yet,  sir,'  he  answered.  '  It  is  somewhere  forward, 
though.' 

"•Make  a  close  search  for  it,  and  let  me  know  at  ouce,' 
I  said. 

"  He  went  below,  and  in  about  half  an  hour  reported  that 
one  of  the  plates  in  our  starboard  bow  had  been  cracked 
by  the  ice.  The  break  was  below  the  water-line,  but  I 
succeeded  in  stopping  it  up  by  melting  some  tar,  which  I 
fortunately  had  aboard,  and  pouring  it  into  the  crack.  Our 
engine  was  stopped  altogether  now,  because  the  ice  w  as  so 
thick  that  it  was  dangerous  to  push  the  vessel  ahead. 
There  was  a  good  deal  of  sea  nnderruuuiug  the  ice,  and  it 
required  the  greatest  skill  and  watchfulness  to  prevent 
disaster.  To  avoid  injury  altogether  was  quite  impossible. 
At  four  bells  in  the>  morning  watch  on  July  23d,  while  we 
were  still  in  the  ice-field,  there  was  ajar  and  a  crash.  I 
sprang  from  my  bunk,  in  which  I  had  been  lying  dressed, 
and  jumped  on  deck. 

"  '  What  in  the  world  lias  happened  now  ?'  I  cried. 

"  '  Carried  away  our  rudder,  sir,'  called  the  second  mate, 
who  was  leaning  over  the  tatt'rail. 

"The  pale-faced  boy  came  up  to  me,  and  looking  into 
my  face  with  his  great  solemn  eyes,  said, 

" '  What  shall  we  do  now  ?' 

"  '  Rig  another,'  I  answered  as  bravely  as  I  could. 

"I'm  not  going1  to  describe  to  you  the  rigging  of  a  jury- 
rudder,  because  it's  one  of  the  commonest  feats  of  sea-en- 
gineering ;  but  I  will  tell  you  that  it  cost  us  a  day's  hard 
work,  and  required  the  use  of  some  spare  stuff  which  I 
would  have  been  very  glad  to  put  into  the  furnaces,  for 
the  coal  supply  was  becoming  smaller  and  smaller,  and  we 
were  seven  hundred  miles  from  the  nearest  port.  Well. 
we  were  twelve  long,  heart-breaking  days  in  the  ice.  For- 
tunately it  rained  heavily  during  two  of  those  days,  and  by 
using  everything  we  had  on  board,  including  the  boats,  to 
catch  the  lain,  I  succeeded  in  fairly  replenishing  the  sup- 
ply of  water  in  our  tanks.  We  were  fortunate  in  having 
an  unusually  large  supply  of  food,  and  this  alone  saved  ns 
from  falling  into  the  straits  of  hunger.  We  had  plenty  of 
everything  except  beef  and  pork.  These  articles  were  ex- 
hausted, and  we  had  to  depend  upon  canned  food,  bread, 
crackers,  tea,  and  coffee.  But  we  had  enough  of  those  to 
last  us  three  months,  so  that  I  did  not  deem  it  necessary 
to  shorten  the  allowances.  On  August  2d  we  got  clear  of 
the  ice,  and  began  to  make  progress  at  the  rate  of  four 
knots  an  hour  under  sail  and  a  little  steam,  but  three 
points  off  our  course.  In  all  this  time  we  had  sighted  no- 
thing save  one  distant  sail;  but  on  August  3d,  to  our  in- 
tense joy.  a  steamer  rose  over  the  horizon  ahead  of  us.  I 
set  signals  of  distress,  and  they  were  seen.  The  steamer 
proved  to  be  the  Argonaut,  from  Halifax  for  Liverpool,  and 
her  Captain  agreed  to  towr  us  into  Halifax.  It  was  a  long, 
long  way,  and  we  kue\v  it  would  be  a  slow  task,  but  the 
thought  of  it  lightened  every  heart.  My  men  jumped 
eagerly  to  the  task  of  passing  the  great  hawser,  and  at 
four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  it  was  stretched,  and  the 
Argonaut  began  to  drug  us  westward  at  six  knots  an  hour. 


-HC, 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Our  ship's  comi>iiiiy  gathered  ill  tlie  bow  and  gave  a  cheer, 
and  the  boy  smiled  and  said, 

'  'At  last  we  shall  get  home  to  fnamma.' 
"I  turned  iu  after  that  and  slept  the  .sleep  of  exhaus- 
tion.    The  Argininiit  towed  us  gallantly  for  a&O  miles  ;  and 
then,  on  the  uigut  of  August  5th,  we  ran  into  another  gale 
from  the  nor'west.     It  was  uot  as  bad  as  those  we  had  pre- 
viously encountered,  but  it  checked  our  advance,  and  be- 
fore morning  had  raised  a  heavy  sea.     At  eight  o'clock  the 
tow-line  parted  with  a  report  like  that  of  a  gun.     To  think 
of  stretching  it  again  iu  such  a  sea  was  hopeless,  but  the 
.li-i/iiHKiit  lay  by  us  all  day.     Several  times  in  the  course  of 
the  following  night  we  saw  her  lights,  but  before  morning 
tin-  wind  shifted  to  the  southeast,  a  fog  came  up,  and  we 
never  saw  the  Argonaut  again.     Sadly  we  set  sail  on  the 
/>Yi*/»ir,aml  began  to  move  slowly  through  the  still  troubled 
waters.     But  at  nine  o'clock  the  fog  cleared  off,  the  wind 
hauled  to  the  eastward,  and  the  sea  became  moderate.     I 
was  now  able  to  set  every  stitch  of  canvas  on  the  vessel 
with  a  fair  wind,  and  I  laid  rny  course  for  St.  John's,  New- 
foundland.    We  forged  ahead  at  four  knots  an  hour,  and 
hope  revived  iu  every  breast.     But  before  night  the  wind 
fell  light,  and  our  progress  became  nothing  better  than  a 
drift  of  two  knots  hourly.     Still  we  were  going  ahead,  and 
we  diil  not  despair.     Calm  weather  and  light  winds  con- 
tinued till  August  10th,  and  then  the  wind  came  in  ahead. 
We  were  now  about  two  hundred  miles  from  Cape  Race. 
Two  schooners  passed  us  in  the  course  of  the  day,  and  I 
signalled  to  them  our  condition,  asking  them  to  report  us, 
and  they  promised  to  do  so.     I  now  determined  to  use  the 
last  fuel  I  could  tiud  aboard  the  ship.     Our  coal  had  been 
exhausted,  and  I  did  not  dare  to  strip  the  spars  from  the 
masts  lest  I  should  still  need  them  to  make  sail.     All  the 
bulkheads  in  the  ship  were  iron,  hut  I  had  every  available 
bit   of  wood-work  cut  away,  including   the  doors,  and  so 
made  enough  steam  to  start  the  engine  again.     We  went 
ahead  very  slowly  all  that  day,  but  the  following  morning, 
when  38  miles  southeast  of  Cape  Race,  we  came  to  a  stand- 
still.    Our  fuel  was  all  gone,  and  the  boilers  were  cold. 
' '  What  shall  we  do  now  ?'  asked  the  pale-faced  boy. 
' '  Send  a  boat  to  Cape  Race  for  help,'  said  I. 
"My  first  officer,  Hiram  Baker,  and  four  seamen  volun- 
teered to  make  the  voyage,  and  at  nine  o'clock,  with  a  well- 
provisioned  and  unsinkable  life-boat,  they  pushed  off  from 
the  ship.      We   watched   them   out  of  sight  with    aching 
hearts  and  throbbing  eyes.     There  was  a  light  breeze  from 
tin-  westward,  and  the  life-boat  was  able  to  work  to  wind- 
ward, so  she  could  come  pretty  near  laying  her  course.    The 
weather  seemed  settled,  and  I  felt,  that  unless  some  unfore- 
seen accident  occurred  she  would  reach  her  destination  be- 
fore the  next  day.     And  so,  indeed,  she  did.      Two  power- 
ful sea-going  tugs  were  despatched  from  St.  John's,  and  on 
the  afternoon   of  August  12th   they  hove  in    sight.     Two 
hours  later  they  had  us  in  tow,  and  that  night  we  arrived 
in  St.  John's,  six  weeks  and  three  days  out.     The  boy  and 
his  father  hurried  off  to  the  telegraph  office  and  sent  a 
message  to  New  York.     In  the  morning  a  messenger  came 
aboard  with  an   answer.     I  can  never   forget   with  what 
eager  hands  Mr.  Howard  toro  open  the  envelope.     Then  he 
threw  his  arms  around  his  buy  and  said, 
"  '  She  is  much  better!' 

'"Then  we  shall  be  at  home  in  time,  after  all.' 
"And  he  came  up  to  me  and  gave  me  a  kiss,  which  re- 
warded me  for  all  my  struggles.'' 


IN  the  thirteenth  century  the  Chinese  government  issued 
some  paper  currency.  To-day  there  are  probably  hut  two 
notes  ol  that  issue  extant.  One  is  in  the  British  Museum, 
and  the  other  in  the  possession  of  the  Oriental  Society  of 
St.  Petersburg.  These  notes  were  issued  in  the  reign  of 
Hung  Woo,  the  founder  of  the  Ning  Dynasty,  who  died  in 
1393.  The  face  value  of  the  notes  is  about  a  dollar,  .-mil 
that  issue  of  paper  currency  was  the  only  one  ever  guaran- 
teed by  the  Chinese  government.  To-day  these  notes  are 
probably  the  rarest  and  most  valuable  of  currency  issues. 
Nearly  all  note  collectors  and  Chinese  bankers  are  fully 
aware  of  their  existence  and  their  value. 


STKWED   QUAKKi;. 

BY     MAHIiAKKT     L.     SANGSTER. 

T   DON'T  like   to  be  very  ill  — just   ill   enough    to  make 
L      her, 

(My  grandmamma)  say  softly,  "Child,  I'll    lix    Vou   sm.ic 
stewed  Quaker." 

It's  sweet  and   thick  and  very  nice,  ami   has  molasses  .11 

it, 

And  lots  of  vinegar  and  spice;  yon  want  it  every  min- 
ute. 

And  being  medicine,  of  course  you  sip  and  say  it's  dandy. 
Just  only  think!  it's  medicine,  and  tastes  like  'tally  candy! 

Now    castor-oil    and    squills,  and   stuff  that   wrinkles   up 

your  forehead, 
And   puckers   up   your  mouth,  and   gags   and    burns,  are 

simply  horrid. 

/  don't  mind  being  ill  at  all,  if  darling  grandma  '11  make 
her 

Nice  dose  she  used  to  make  for  pa  when  he  was  young 

stewed  Quaker. 


HIS   WHEEL  SAVED  HIS  LIFE. 

flMlE  bicycle  has  proved  useful  as  a  life-saving  machine 
.  in  many  instances,  but  it  remained  for  John  O'Hara, 
of  Broome  Street,  in  New  York,  to  discover  how  good  a  bi- 
cycle is  as  a  means  of  escape  from  a  mad  dog.  John  is  a 
well-grown  lad,  and  is  so  fond  of  bicycle-riding  thai  he 
goes  on  wheeling  trips  through  the  streets  of  the  Kast  Side. 
All  of  these  streets  are  crowded,  but  probably  no  one  of  them 
is  so  jammed  full  of  pedestrians  and  push-carts  and  ped- 
dlers' wagons  as  Forsyth  Street.  Experts  say  that  mi  oili- 
er part  of  the  world  is  so  thickly  populated  as  this  neigh- 
borhood, so  you  can  easily  imagine  how  difficult  it  must  ho 
to  go  wheeling  a  bicycle  through  it. 

John  O'Hara  was  enjoying  a  pleasant  spin  on  the  smooth 
asphalt  pavement  of  Forsyth  Street,  near  Broome,  at  noon 
the  other  day,  when  he  noticed  the  crowd  .seattering  right 
and  left,  and  diving  into  open  hallways  and  down  cellar 
stairs.  Presently  he  heard  a  cry  of  "Mad  dog!"  |[, 
wheeled  around  and  turned  to  flee  to  the  southward.  As 
he  hurried  away  he  looked  back  over  his  shoulder,  and  saw 
a  big  white  dog  galloping  after  him,  its  red  tongue  lulling 
out.  and  yellow  foam  dripping  from  its  open  jaws.  As  the 
dog  ran  it  turned  and  snapped  viciously  right  and  left. 
The  cries  of  the  crowds  on  the  sidewalk  warned  everybody 
on  the  pavement,  so  that  there  was  a  clear  Held  ahead  of 
O'Hara  for  several  blocks.  He-  pushed  hard  on  the  pedals, 
and  sprinted  away  as  hard  as  he  could.  If  he  could  only 
be  sure  of  plenty  of  headway  he  knew  he  would  l,e  sale. 
The  dog  was  not  running  very  fast.  I'm-  his  gait  was  ill 
tain, and  he  wavered  from  side  to  side. 

If  O'Hara  had  turned  out  into  any  of  the  side  streets  he 
would  have  been  safe,  but  in  the  excitement  of  the  moment 
he  did  not  think  of  this.  His  one  idea  was  to  run  ahead  as 
fast  as  possible.  Now  and  then  the  carls  and  wagons  in 
the  street  were  slow  in  turning  out,  and  U'Hara  had  to 
slow  up.  In  this  way  he  ran  live  blocks,  n<>\v  gaining  on 
the  dog,  and  now  almost  oxei-taUi-n.  At  Canal  stn.t  tin-re 

was  such  a  jam  of  vehicles  that   the   bicycle  rider  al si 

had  to  stop.      The  d->L:  LVilh'ped  ahead  ol'  him.  snappi 

the  n  heel  as  it  went  past.      O'llara  might  ha\e  e\.n  Ihen 

turned   northward    for   safety,   hut  he    was   too  excited,  as 

plohahly    must    of   us   would    ha\e    1 n    ill    his   place        II,- 

kcpt   straight    ahead,  and  as   the  dog  fell    in    I'mnt    u|'  him, 
the  wheels  of  the  bicycle  pass,  ,1  ,,\,-i-  its  neck  and  stunned 
it.      Away  went  <  )'IIara  at  full  speed,  and  a   policemai 
Innately    near  al    hand,  shot    and   killed   the   dog   before  it 
could  recover.      I'rohahh   this  is  the  first   time  that  a 
cle  was  ever  used  as  a  weapon  as  well  as  a  means  of  flight 
from  danger. 


867 


HAKPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


TWO   BRAVE  MEN. 

IT  has  frequently  been  asserted  that  no 
fortifications  of  masonry   could   resist 

modern   ordnance,  and    this   is  doubtless 

true  so  far  as  heavy  siege  guns  are  con- 
cerned. But  iu  the  recent  war  against 

China  the  Japanese  troops  found  on  sev- 
eral occasions  that  with  their  light  bat- 
teries of  field  and  mountain  artillery  they 

•were    unable   to    make    any    impression 

upon  the   heavy  stone   defences  of  some 

of  the  walled  Chinese  towns.     The  gates, 

especially,  seemed    able    to    resist    any 

amount  of  bombarding,  for  the  masonry 

was  much  thicker  and  higher   at  these 

points,  and   frequently  there  were  three 

and  four  heavy   iron-bound  oaken  doors 

to   be   broken   open    before   an   entrance 

could  be  effected.     The  attacks  on  these 

walled  towns  furnished  occasions  for  a 

number  of  brave  deeds  on  the  part  of  the 

Japanese  soldiers,  who  proved  themsch  <•> 

to  be  reckless  in  the  display  of  courage, 
and  absolutely  fearless  in  thr  t'.-ic-c-  of  the 
greatest  dangers.  One  of  the  first  occa- 
sions of  the  kind  was  at  Kin-chow,  a  good- 
sized  town  surrounded  by  a  verv  high  stone 
wall  with  only  a  few  gates.  The  Japanese 
artillery  had  been  firing  at  the  principal  gate  for  an  hour 
or  so  without  effect,  and  the  infantry  had  made  assault 
after  assault  against  the  perpendicular  walls  without  being 
able  to  dislodge  the  euemy,  who  were  well  screened  behind 
battlements  and  embrasures.  At.  last  the  commander  of 
the  attacking  force  decided  that  the  only  way  to  get  into 
the  town  would  be  to  blow  open  the  gate  with  dynamite 
or  uitro-glycerine.  It  was  all  very  well  to  decide  upon 
this,  after  looking  at  the  heavy  doors  from  a  distance 
through  field-glasses,  but  it  was  an  entirely  different  mat- 
ter to  put  the  explosive  iu  place  anil  set  it  off. 

Nevertheless,  as  soon  as  it  was  announced  that  it  had 
been  determined  by  the  commander  to  blow  open  the  gates, 
Onoguchi  Tokuyi,  a  private  soldier  of  the  corps  of  engineers, 
volunteered  to  take  the  cartridge  and  place  it  under  the 
doors.  He  rushed  from  among  his  companions  and  ran 
straight  for  the  wall,  from  the  top  of  which  the  Chinese 
poured  a  perfect  hail  of  bullets  at  him.  But  the  Chinese 
soldiery  never  aim,  and  usually  fire  with  their  eyes  closed, 
so  that  Tokuyi  reached  the  gate  unharmed.  He  placed  the 
bomb  under  one  of  the  hinges,  lit  the  fuse,  and  only  had 
time  to  retreat  a  few  steps  when  with  a  roar  and  a  crash, 
the  great  oaken  doors  were  torn  to  pieces  and  fell  inward. 
The  soldier  was  knocked  down  by  the  force  of  the  explo- 


MIMURA    CLIMBING   THE   WALLS   OF   PING-YANG. 

868 


TOKUYI    BLOWING    UP    THE    GATES    OF    KIN-CHOW. 


siou,  but  he  quickly  picked  himself  up,  and,  leaping  through 
the  dust  and  smoke,  placed  a  second  cartridge  under  the 
inner  gate  and  blew  that  open  iu  the  same  way.  By  this 
time  a  perfect  avalanche  of  Japanese  infantry  was  pouring 
through  the  opened  doorway,  and  in  a  very  few  minutes 
the  Chinese  were  in  full  rout.  Tokuyi  was  found  uncon- 
scious after  the  fight,  lying  near  the  second  door.  He  had 
been  hit  iu  the  shoulder  by  a  bullet  as  he  entered  the  outer 
gate.  He  was  treated  by  the  army  surgeons,  and  sent  home 
to  Japan  to  get  well,  and  then  he  was  decorated  for  his 
bravery  by  the  Mikado. 

A  similar  exhibition  of  courage  was  given  by  an  infan- 
tryman at  the  storming  of  the  Genimuu  Gate  at  Ping-Yang. 
There,  too,  the  thick  stone  walls  proved  impervious  to  Jap- 
anese shot  and  shell,  and  after  two  fruitless  assaults  it  was 
derided  to  try  some  other  method.  Lieutenant  Minmra 
volunteered  to  open  the  gate  single-handed,  but  Private 
Harada  stepped  out  and  said  he  would  follow  along  and 
help.  Both  men  then  ran  for  a  corner  of  the  gateway, 
while  their  comrades  diverted  the  attention  of  the  Chinese 
defenders  by  keeping  up  a  hot  fusillade.  Jlimura  and 
Harada  clambered  quickly  up  the  face  of  the  wall  by  pla- 
cing their  hands  and  feet  in  the  chinks  between  the  stones. 
They  succeeded  in  reaching  the  top  without  being  seen  by 
the  Chinese,  who  were  busy  blazing  away 
at  the  maiu  body  of  the  euemy,  and  then 
jumped  down  and  rushed  for  the  inside  of 
the  gate.  They  had  to  cut  their  way 
through  a.  horde  of  Chinamen  as  soon  as 
they  had  gotten  inside  the  town;  but  they 
finally  beat  them  off,  aud  threw  the  bolts 
of  the  heavy  gates,  that  were  at  once 
shoved  in  by  the  attacking  force  outside. 
Both  Lieutenant  Mimura  and  Private 
Harada  were  promoted  the  next  day. 

Two  neiiilrnien  had  a  rather  lively  dis- 
pute, which  finally  wound  up  in  a  an  agree- 
ment to  tight  it  out  in  a  duel.  One  of  the 
gentlemen  was  extremely  thin  aud  the 
other  stout.  The  stont  gentleman  com- 
plained that  it  would  be  useless  for  him  to 
fire  at  such  a  shadow,  for  one  might  as 
well  expect  to  hit  the  edge  of  a  razor  as  to 
hit  the  man.  Whereupon  the  lean  man 
made  the  proposal  to  chalk  a  line  down 
the  fat  man,  and  if  his  shot  failed  to  take 
effect  within  the  narrow  side  of  the  line  it 
wouldn't  count. 


GREAT    MEN'S     SONS. 

THE   SOX   OF   LUTHER. 

BY    ELBRIDGE    S.  BROOKS. 


,     - 
/"       i.V*. 


on  a  Saxon  hill-side  over- 
looking the  pleasant  val- 
ley of  the,  Itz,  and  in  the 
shadow  of  the  loftier 
Fraukenwalds,  stands  an 
old  castle  now  gray  with 
age  and  rich  in  memories. 
In  one  of  its  many  guest 
rooms,  near  an  open  win- 
dow, about  which  crows 
and  jackdaws  liniig  with 
swirl  aud  clamor,  there 
sat,  many  years  ago,  a 
stockily  -  built,  firm  -  fea- 
tured, fearless-eyed  man  writing  a  letter. 

Armed  men  (ill  the  castle;  upon  its  walls  aud  on  its 
highest  turrets  watchmen  stand  on  guard;  above  it  floats 
the  standard  of  the  Elector  of  Saxony  ;  and  the  great  gate 
opens  only  to  the  summons  of  those  who  come  with  creden- 
tials or  password. 

The  time  is  one  of  anxiety  aud  excitement,  for  the  Prot- 
estant Princes  of  northern  Germany  have  taken  a  hold 
^and  against  their  lord  the  Emperor.  Messengers  ride 
daily  to  and  from  the  castle,  aud  letters  are  sent  now  this 
way  aud  uow  that,  freighted  with  important  measures  or 
hot  with  words  of  protest,  counsel,  aud  appeal,  strength- 
ening those  who  waver,  restraining  those  who  are  over- 
hold! 

As  by  his  open  "window  in  the  ancient  castle  of  Cohnrg, 
where  his  presence  is  honored  and  his  word  is  law,  the 
strong  man  sits  at  work.  What  is  the  letter  that  he  writes  .' 
Who  is  the  Prince  or  preacher  for  whom  his  words  of  wisdom 
are  penned  ?  Is  he  a  soldier  issuing  commands,  or  a  coun- 
cillor sending  advice  to  Elector,  Duke,  or  King  .' 


We  draw  near  the  writer,  and  as  we  ]n.,k  c>\  IT  his  slinul- 
der,  following  the  queer  old  (iermaii  script  his  qniek  <|iiill 
traces  on  the  paper,  this  is  what  we  read: 

"Grace  and  peace  in  Christ.  My  lie.-ir  little  son,  I  am  glad  in 
hear  that  thou  learnest  well  and  pnivest  'lili^-'iitU •.  [in  tins,  mv 
son,  and  continue  it;  when  I  return  home  I  will  bring  ihee  a  tine 
fairing. 

"I  know  a  beautiful  cheerful  garden,  in  which  many  children 
walk  about.  They  have  golden  coats  on,  and  gather  beautiful  ap- 
ples under  the  trees,  and  pears  and  cherries  and  plums  ;  they  sii:;_', 
and  jump  about,  and  are  merry  ;  they  have'  alsn  tine  little  horses 
with  golden  bridles  and  silver  saddles.  And  I  asked  the  man, 
'  Whose  children  are  they?'  He  replied,  'Tin'-*1  ;nf  th<'  i-hiMi-'u 
who  like  to  pray  and  learn  and  are  pious.1  Tin -n  I  said,  '  \h  good 
man,  I  have  a  son  j  his  name  is  John  Luther,  niav  he  IIMI  also 
come  to  this  garden  to  eat  such  nice  apples  and  pears,  and  ride 
such  fine  little  horses  and  play  with  these  children?'  And  tin 
man  said, '  If  he  likes  to  pray  and  learn  and  is  pious,  he  shall 
come  to  this  garden  with  Philip  and  James;  and  when  tl .• 
come  together  they  shall  have  pipes  and  cymbals,  lutes  and  c.thi-r 
musical  instruments,  and  dance,  and  shoot  with  little  em — how-. 

"And  he  showed  me  a  fine  meadow  in  the  garden  prepared  for 
dancing,  there  being  nothing  but  golden  pipes,  cymbals,  and 
beautiful  silver  cross-bows.  But  it  was  yet  early  and  tlir  rliilihvn 
had  not  dined.  Therefore  I  could  not  wait  fur  the  dancing,  and 
said  to  the  man,  'My  good  master,  I  will  go  quickly  and  write  all 
this  to  my  dear  little  son  John,  that  he  may  pray  diligently,  learn 
well,  and  be  pious,  that  lie  also  may  be  admitted  into  this  garden  ; 
but  he  hath  an  Aunt  Lena  whom  he  must  bring  with  him.'  The 
man  answered, 'So  be  it;  go  and  write  this  to  him.' 

"Therefore,  my  dear  little  son  John,  learn  and  pray  with  all 
confidence;  and  tell  this  to  Philip  and  James,  that  they  also  may 
learn  and  pray;  and  ye  will  all  meet  in   this  beautiful  g.i 
Herewith  I  commend  thee  to  Almighty  God.     (iive  greeiim:-  to 
Aunt  Lena,  and  also  a  kiss  from  me.     Thy  father  who  loves  thee. 

"  19th  June,  1530.  MARTIN  LUTHKR." 


JOHN    WAS    THE   COMPANION    OF    HIS    FATHER    IN    MANY    EXPEDITIONS 

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A  cheery,  bright,  helpful,  storylike  letter  to  a  boy,  is  it 
not  ?  And  written  from  that  old  German  castle  in  a  time  of 
danger  a  nd  of  controversy.  And  the  writer  is  neither  soldier, 
jirince,  uor  priest,  but  greater  than  soldier,  prince,  or  priest, 
flic  one  man  who  gave  the  death-blow  to  the  ignorance  of 
the  Dark  Ages,  and  changed  the  history  of  the  world.  For 
the  writer  was  Martin  Luther,  the  apostle  of  the  Reforma- 
1  ion,  the  "  renegade  monk  "  who  dared,  in  spite  of  Pope  and 
Orders,  to  tell  the  world  that  alike  the  Word  of  God  and 
the  conscience  of  man  were  free,  and  who,  in  the  year  1521, 
commanded  by  Pope  and  Emperor  to  take  back  his  bold 
words,  heroicly  said,  in  the  midst  of  enemies,  and  in  the  face 
of  almost  certain  death:  "I  may  not,  I  cannot  retract; 
for  it  is  neither  safe  nor  right  to  act  against  conscience. 
Here  stand  I.  I  cannot  do  otherwise.  God  help  me." 

And  the  little  four-year-old  boy  to  whom  this  storylike 
letter  was  written  was  Luther's  first-born,  the  dearly  loved 
"sou  John."  He  was  named  for  his  grandfather  Hans  (or 
John)  Luther,  the  Saxon1  miner,  and  he  was  born  in  June, 
1526,  iu  the  cloister-home  in  Wittenberg,  where,  his  father, 
Martiu  Luther,  had  first  lived  as  monk,  and  afterwards  as 
master.  For  when  that  monk  made  his  heroic  stand,  and 
the  nieu  of  North  Germany  followed  him  as  a  leader,  the 
Prince  of  his  homeland,  the  Elector  of  Saxony,  gave  him  as 
his  home  the  Angnstinian  convent  at  Wittenberg,  deserted 
by  the  monks,  who  would  not  follow  him  whom  they  called 
"  the  renegade." 

Here  in  the  cloisters  of  the  old  convent,  close  to  the  city 
wall,  and  almost  overhanging  the  river  Elbe,  Martin  Lu- 
ther and  his  wife  Catherine  made  their  home;  here  they 
received  into  their  household  students,  professors,  travel- 
lers, and  guests — men  anxious  to  hear  the  glad  tidings 
of  religions  freedom  that  this  great  leader  proclaimed  to 
Germany  and  the  world,  and  here,  as  I  have  told  you,  iu 
June,  1526,  little  '•  Hanschen,"  or  "Johnny"  Luther  was 
born . 

Luther  was  a  man  who  loved  home  and  family  ties,  and 
from  babyhood  little  John  was  most  dear  to  him.  The  Re- 
former's letters  to  his  friends  are  full  of  references  to  the 
small  stranger  who  had  come  into  the  Wittenberg  home; 
and  neither  hot  religious  disputes,  knotty  theological  prob- 
lems, nor  grave  political  happenings  could  crowd  Johnny 
out  of  the  father's  heart. 

We  get  these  glimpses  of  "  our  John"  frequently. 
•'Through  the  grace  of  God  there  has  come  to  us,"  he 
writes  to  oue  of  his  friends,  "a  little  Hans  [John]  Luther, 
a  hale  and  hearty  first-born  "  ;  and  a  few  days  later  he  says 
that,  with  wife  and  son,  he  envies  neither  Pope  nor  Em- 
peror. Of  the  year-old  boy  he  writes,  iu  May,  1527,  "My 
little  Johnny  is  lively  and  robust,  and  eats  and  drinks  like 
a  hero." 

That  yenrof  1527  some  terribly  contagious  disease,  called, 
as  all  such  "catching"  illnesses  then  were,  "  the  plague," 
visited  Wittenberg  and  converted  the  Luther  household 
"into  a  hospital."  "Thy  little  favorite,  John" — thus  he 
closes  a  letter  to  a  friend — "does  not  salute  thee,  for  he  is 
too  ill  to  speak,  but  through  me  he  solicits  your  prayers. 
For  the  last  twelve  days  he  has  not  eaten  a  morsel.  'Tis 
wonderful  to  see  how  the  poor  child  keeps  up  his  spirits; 
he  would  manifestly  be  as  gay  and  joyous  as  ever,  were  it 
not  for  the  excess  of  his  physical  weakness."  It  was  in  the 
midst  of  the  poverty  and  worry  that  the  plague  and  the 
other  crosses  he  endured  brought  about  that  Luther  wrote 
his  great  hymn,  "Eiu  feste  Burg  ist  unser  Gott,"  one  of  the 
grand  and  triumphant  "Hymns  of  the  Ages,"  and  we  can 
imagine  that,  with  his  powerful  voice,  he  rang  the  hymn 
out  gladly  when,  iu  December,  1527,  he  could  write  thank- 
fully, "Our  John  is  well  and  strong  again." 

Luther  was  a  great  letter-writer,  and  in  the  midst  of 
pressing  duties  and  important  deeds,  away  from  his  loved 
ones,  he  could  always  tiud  time  to  write  home.  Many  of 
I  hcse  "  letters  home  "  remain  on  record,  beginning  "  To  the 
gracious  dame  Catherine  Luther,  my  dear  spouse,  who  is 
tormenting  herself  quite  unnecessarily";  or,  "  To  my  sweet 
wife  Catherine  Luther  von  Bora.  Grace  and  peace  iu  the 
Lord.  Dear  Catherine,  we  hope  to  be  with  you  again  this 
week,  if  it  please  God."  But  one  of  the  most  famous  of  the 
Luther  letters  is  that  one  which,  when  "  our  John  "  was 


just  four  years  old,  his  father  wrote  from  the  old  castle  of 
Coburg,  in  the  shadow  of  the  Saxon  mountains,  and  in  the 
midst  of  stirring  times,  sitting  at  the  window,  as  we  have 
seen,  while  outside  the  crows  were  cawing  and  the  jack- 
daws were  chattering,  and  armed  men  guarded  the  great 
letter- writer  as  the  most  precious  of  Germany's  posses- 
sions. 

Five  boys  and  girls  blessed  that  cloister-home  at  Witten- 
berg. The  Luthers  were  never  "  well-to-do";  sometimes 
they  were  so  short  of  money — for  Luther  was  overgenerous 
iu  his  charities — as  to  feel  the  pinch  of  poverty.  But  Lu- 
ther had  friends  in  high  places  who  would  not  let  him 
want,  and  he  was  therefore  able  to  give  his  boys  tutors  at 
home  and  good  instruction  later  on  in  life. 

"Sou  John  "  could  scarcely  be  called  a  brilliant  scholar. 
Indeed,  he  was  a  bit  dull,  and  inclined  to  take  things  easy. 
In  this  his  mother  seems  to  have  been  just  a  trifle  paitial 
to  her  first-born,  and  inclined  to  help  him  thus  take  things 
easy.  So,  when  he  was  sixteen,  "  son  John "  was  sent 
away  to  school. 

From  the  letter  which  he  bore  from  his  father  to  Mark 
Crodel,  the  teacher  of  the  Latin  school  in  the  Saxon  town 
of  Torgau,  young  John  seems  to  have  entered  the  school  as 
a  sort  of  "pupil-teacher,"  for  thus  the  letter  runs: 

"According  to  our  arrangement,  my  dear  Mark,  1  send 
thee  my  son  John,  that  thon  niayst  employ  him  iu  teaching 
the  children  grammar  and  music,  and  at  the  same  time 
superintend  and  improve  his  moral  conduct.  If  thou  suc- 
ceedest  iu  improving  him.  I  will  send  thee  two  other  sous 
of  mine.  For,  though  I  desire  my  children  to  be  good 
divines,  yet  I  would  have  them  sound  grammarians  and  ac- 
complished musicians." 

Young  Joint  would  seem  to  have  been  sent  to  Torgau  as 
one  needing  correction  ;  and,  indeed,  I  am  afraid  he  was 
not  always  a  good  or  a  dutiful  son  ;  otherwise  it  is  hard  to 
explain  the  words  of  Luther  when  one  of  his  friends  spoke 
of  the  boy's  frequent  attacks  of  illness.  "Ay,"  said  Dr. 
Luther,  "  'tis  the  punishment  due  to  his  disobedience.  He 
almost  killed  me  once,  and  ever  since  I  have  but  little 
strength  of  body.  Thanks  to  him  I  now  thoroughly  under- 
stand that  passage  where  St.  Paul  speaks  of  children  who 
kill  their  parents  uot  by  the  sword,  but  by  disobedi- 
ence." 

Just,  how  the  sou  "  near]}*  killed"  his  father  we  cannot 
say.  It.  may  have  been  the  great  man's  strong  way  of  put- 
ting things,  but  evidently  "son  John"  also  needed  refor- 
mation. 

However  that  may  be,  we  catch  more  glimpses  of  John's 
good  side  than  of  his  bad.  He  was  the  companion  of  his 
father  in  many  of  his  expeditions  about  Germany,  and  he 
was  with  him  on  that  fatal  trip  to  Eislebeu  iu  January, 
1546,  to  reconcile  the  quarrelsome  Counts  of  Mansfeld. 

With  his  boy  he  forded  the  icy  rivers  Mulde  and  Saale, 
where  they  nearly  lost  their  lives,  and  where  the  Reformer 
doubtless  "  caught  his  death."  Escorted  by  horsemen  and 
spearmen,  Luther  and  his  son  entered  Eislebeu  ;  the  Counts 
of  Mausfeld  were  reconciled,  but  Luther  fell  sick,  aud  that 
very  night,  the  18th  of  February,  he  died. 

All  Germany  mourued  the  great  man's  death ;  all  Ger- 
many hoped  that  his  sous  might  follow  iu  the  father's  steps. 
lint  the  three  boys  seem  only  to  have  turned  out  respecta- 
ble men,  without  any  of  the  elements  of  greatness  or  lead- 
ership. 

Johu  Luther  made  a  fairly  good  lawyer.  He  married  the 
daughter  of  oue  of  his  professors  at  Konigsberg  University  ; 
served  as  a  soldier  iu  the  German  army ;  settled  down,  aud 
died  at  Kiiuigsberg,  in  the  year  1576,  at  the  age  of  fifty. 
His  uame  is  chiefly  remembered  as  the  "dear  Johnuy  "  and 
"  sou  John  "  of  his  great  father's  letters,  and  of  the  happy 
home  circle  in  the  cloister-house  at  Wittenberg.  He  left 
neither  name  nor  deed  to  make  his  memory  a  word  in  the 
mouths  of  men  ;  yet  we  cannot  but  feel  that,  as  the  sou  of 
Luther,  he  must  have  been  proud  of  the  great  father  whom 
he  remembered  only  with  love  and  reverence,  and,  let  us 
hope,  rejoiced  to  see  the  regard  the  world  paid  to  the 
masterful  ways  of  the  great  Reformer  and  leader,  whose 
gifts  the  son  did  not  inherit,  aud  whose  name  lie  but  feebly 
upheld. 


870 


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THE 

PUDDING 

STICK 


This  Department  isconducted  in  the  interest  ot'  Girls  and  \'m\nz  Women,  mid  the  Editnr  will 
be  pleased  to  answer  any  question  on  the  subject  BO  far  as  possible.  Correspondents  should 
address  Editor. 

THE  last  Pudding  Stick  was  especially  designed  for 
young  people  who  wish  to  write  for  the  papers.  This 
one  is  also  to  be  about  writing,  but  in  rather  :i  different 
line.  I  hope  none  of  you  will  be  offended  if  I  urge  upon 
yon  the  importance  of  learning  to  spell.  It  always  gives 
me  a  little  quiver  of  pain — something  like  thr  sudden  start 
of  a  nerve  in  a  tooth  which  is  sensitive — when  I  read  a 
letter  from  one  of  my  girls,  and  tind  that  she  uses  two"l's" 
where  she  should  use  one,  or  one  "t"  where  two  are  re- 
quired. I  think  it  is  easier  for  some  than  for  others  to  spell 
correctly.  Spelling  is  largely  a  matter  dependent  on  at- 
tention. You  may  not  know  it,  but  your  eyes  are  always 
teaching  you  how  to  spell,  and,  unconsciously,  as  you  read 
interesting  books  or  the  daily  paper,  you  see  how  words 
are  spelled,  and  learn  to  spell  correctly  yourself.  There  is 
no  excuse  for  any  girl  who  has  both  sight  and  hearing  to 
blunder  in  her  spelling,  when  Helen  Keller,  who  can  neither 
srr  iiur  hear,  spells  without  ever  making  a  mistake.  Helen 
writes  a  beautiful  legible  hand,  and  uses  a  type-writer  to 
perfection,  and  yet  she  has  never  had  the  advantages 
which  most  of  us  possess,  having  been  blind  and  deaf  ever 
since  her  babyhood.  The  thing  is  to  pay  close  attention 
if  you  desire  to  be  a  good  speller.  » 

VERY  much  more  than  we  fancy  we  are  dependent  for 
our  style  of  speech  in  writing  and  conversation  on  the  au- 
thors we  read.  Here,  too,  we  need  to  be  attentive.  No 
bright  American  girl  can  afford  not  to  read  a  few  pages  of 
some  good  author  every  day  of  her  life.  Mere  story-books 
are  not  sufficient.  Keep  on  hand  a  book  which  is  a,  serious 
undertaking,  and  plod  straight  through  it.  I  have  made 
this  a  rule  all  my  life,  and  I  advise  you  to  do  the  same. 

THOSE  who  have  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  early  taught 
another  language  besides  your  own,  and  who  understand 
French  or  German,  should  keep  on  hand  a  book  in  one  of 
those  languages,  and  read  a  chapter  or  two  every  day.  If 
I  could  I  would  like  to  persuade  you  of  the  importance  of 
doing  something  along  the  line  of  a  study  or  an  accomplish- 
ment every  single  day.  Even  a  few  minutes  regularly  de- 
voted will  tell  in  time  to  advantage.  The  president  of  one 
of  our  great  New  England  colleges  used  to  say  to  the 
students,  "Nothing  can  stand  before  the  day's  works." 
People  who  set  apart  a  little  while  every  morning  or  every 
afternoon  for  a  definite  purpose,  and  then  never  allow 
themselves  to  lose  that  time,  making  it  up  if  they  are  in- 
terrupted by  extra  effort  on  the  next  day,  soon  surpass  the 
brilliant  people  who  are  capable  of  great  exertions  now 
and  then,  but  never  do  anything  patiently  day  by  day.  I 
wish,  too,  that  I  could  say  to  you  as  strongly  as  I  feel,  "  love 
your  work."  "The  labor  we  delight  in  physics  pain."  It 
seems  to  me  a  dreadful  thing  to  go  to  one's  work  with  the 
spirit  of  a  slave.  We  should  always  put  into  our  work  our 
best  thoughts,  our  best  hope,  and  the  motive  of  true  love. 
No  matter  what  the  work,  the  way  we  go  about  it  gives  it 
worth  and  dignity,  or  makes  it  petty  and  mean. 

ANOTHER  CAUTION  is,  do  not  talk  very  much  about  what 
you  arc-  doing.  Nothing  is  so  weak  as  vanity.  Somewhere 
iu  the  world  there  is  always  someliody  doing  such  work  as 
ours  quite  as  well  as  we  can  do  it,  and  we  have  no  right  to 
inllict  upon  our  friends  the-  story  of  onr  personal  endeavors 
or  failures.  It  is  well  to  omit  from  our  daily  conversation 
as  much  as  possible  references  to  ourselves  and  In  what  we 
are  engaged  upon.  I  want  my  girls  to  become  interesting 
women,  and  the  woman  who  is  really  interesting  thinks 
and  talks  of  others  more  than  of  herself. 


IT  IS  A  GOOD  PLAX,  in  order  to  fix  on  your  mind  what  yon 
read  and  wish  to  remember,  to  keep  a  commonplace  bonk. 
Here  you  may  copy  poems  which  please  you,  dates  of  strik- 
ing events,  bits  of  description,  and  entertaining  anecdotes 
One  girl  friend  of  mine  succeeded  thus  in  making  a  \  ei  \ 
beautiful  compilation,  which  was  afterwards  published. 
and  which  ga\e  great  pleasure  In  her  friends. 


£. 


ON  BOARD   THE   ARK. 

BY    ALBERT  LEE. 
CHAPTER      I  V. 


animals  poured  into  the  Ark  like  the  tide  through 
a  sluice.  They  pushed  and  shoved  and  crowded,  and 
many  tried  to  get  to  the  Purser's  window  ahead  of  their 
turns.  The  big  ones  brushed  the  little  ones  aside  with  a 
total  disregard  of  gentleness  or  consideration.  But  the 
Bull  soon  put  a  stop  to  this  sort  of  thing.  He  stuck  his 
head  out  of  the  window  and  said  all  sorts  of  horrible 
things,  and  vowed  he  would  have  the  doors  closed  if  tin- 
beasts  did  not  preserve  better  order.  Things  went  along 
better  after  that. 

The  larger  animals  came  in  first:  Lions,  Tigers,  Ele- 
phants, Hippopotami,  Rhinoceroses,  Camels,  Giraffes,  Drom- 
edaries, Buffaloes,  Polar  Bears,  Grizzly  Bears,  and  evcr\ 
other  kind  of  Bear.  Tommy  thought  he  had  never  seen  sn 
many  different  animals  in  all  his  life.  It  beat  a  circus  all 
hollow,  and  it  reminded  him  of  the  college  song  his  Uncle 
Dick  used  to  sing  about  : 

"The  animals  came  in  two  by  two, 

Hurrah  !     Hurrah  ! 
The  animals  came  in  two  by  two, 

Hurrah  !     Hurrah  ! 
The  animals  came  in  two  by  two, 
The  Elephant  and  the  Kangaroo, 
And  they  all  got  into  the  Ark  before  it  began  to  rain  !" 

After  the  large  animals  followed  a  long  procession  of  deer 
—  Elk,  Antelopes,  Gazelles,  Chamois,  Moose,  and  Caribou. 
Behind  these  came  dogs  of  every  kind  —  big  dogs,  bull- 
dogs, thin  dogs,  fat  dogs,  ga\  ilngs.  sad  dogs,  shaggy  dugs. 
sleek  dogs,  and  all  colored  dogs;  Greyhounds.  Mastitis. 
Pugs.  St.  Bernards,  Fox  Terrier.-.,  Setter.-.  Pointers,  Poodle-. 
Great  Danes,  Skyes,  Black-and-Tans.  and  follies.  Toward 
the  end  of  the  procession  came  a  long-bodied  brown  dog 
w-ith  big  ears  and  long  straight  legs.  Toicmy  had  uevei 
seen  that  kind  before. 

"What  is  he?"  he  said,  point  ing  downward. 

The  ex-Pirate  shook  his  head,  lint  the  Gopher  answered, 
"That's  a  Dachshund." 

"A  Dachshund  f"  repeated  Tommy;  "  I  gnevsnot.     I'aeh 
shunds    are    not    built   like'     that.       Look     at     his 
legs." 

"Well,  that  i.s  a  Dachshund,  in-i-ted  the  Gopher;  and 
then  lie  pulled  his  siinlmniiel  o\er  hi.-  head  ai  il  closed  his 
eyes  for  a  nap. 

The  French  Poodle  was  the  onl\   one  thai   li  nl  RUJ   trim 
hie  with  the  Hull,  because  the  i'.illl  could  not  speak  I'l.  n.  h 
and  refused  to  understand  what    the  Poodle  said,      'rummy 
plainly  heard  the  dog  muttering  to  himself  as  lie   1.  I 
w  indow  : 

-•  K.-pece  dc  John  Bull  !      II  cst  ton  joins  commi 

Knl  the  little  hoy  could  not  understand  w  ha!  the  Poodle 
meant  any  mine  than  the    liull  could,  because   li. 
gotten  along  any  further  in  hi-  French  e\eivi-e-book  than 
"Have  \on  srr  n  the  g  .....  1  General's  red  slippers  under  tl 
green  table   of  the  \\ine-merrlianr-   beautiful    i-:"iher-ii 


871 


HAEPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


'WHAT    DO    YOU    MEAN    BY    SENDING    ME    A    MINIATURE    TICKET    LIKE    THIS?" 


law?"  And  be  did  not  recognize  any  of  the  words  in  the 
Poodle's  plaint. 

Tbe  Bull  had  been  losing  his  temper  pretty  rapidly  ever 
since  the  doors  opened,  and  he  seemed  to  he  waiting  for  a 
chance  to  do  or  say  something  ugly.  Pretty  soon  a  couple 
of  harmless  and  sleepy-looking  Oxen  came  plodding  up  the 
gang-plank  and  strolled  through  the  doorway. 

"Look  here!"  the  Bull  shouted  at  them,  "you've  got 
to  leave  your  chewing-gum  outside!  No  gum-chewing  al- 
lowed on  the  Ark!" 

One  of  the  Oxen  protested,  but  the  Bull  asserted  that  if 
the  Ox  made  any  trouble  he  would  come  outside  and  settle 
the  matter  himself;  and  so  both  Oxen  regretfully  stuck 
their  chewing-gum  under  the  gang-plank  and  passed  in.  A 
little  while  later  a  Lizard  came  along  and  handed  in  his 
ticket  through  the  small  window  near  the  floor.  The  Bull 
looked  at  it  and  frowned,  and  then  stuck  his  head  out  over 
the  counter  and  glared  at  the  little  Lizard,  who  positively 
turned  green  with  fright. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  presenting  this  ticket?"  asked 
the.  Bull,  savagely.  ' 

"  Please,  sir,  I  want  to  come  iuto  the  Ark,"  replied  the 
Lizard,  meekly. 

"Well,  yon  can't  get  in  on  this  ticket — see?" 

"Please,  sir,  it's  the  only  one  I  have,"  continued  the 
Lizard,  trembling. 

"  Well,  look  here,  young  fellow,"  snorted  the  Bull,  getting 
angrier  as  he  spoke;  "this  ticket  is  your  shape,  but  it,  is 
not  your  size.  Yon  bought  it  from  a  speculator  outside!" 

"  Oh  no,  sir!"  exclaimed  the  Lizard. 

"I  don't  care  what  you  say.  This  is  the  Crocodile's 
ticket,  and  it  ain't  your  size,  and  yon  can't  get  in  on  it !" 

"Please,  sir,  I  did  not  know,"  mildly  protested  the  Lizard. 
"  I  can't  read,  sir." 

"  Well,  don't  you  know  that  the  pauper,  the  insane,  and 
the  illiterate  are  not  allowed  on  this  Ark  ?"  rnared  the 
Bull,  apparently  deriving  much  pleasure  out  of  the  fact 
that  he  was  scaring  the  Lizard  half  to  death.  The  little 
fellow  ili.l  not  in  the  leaM  understand  the  meaning  of  these 
big  words,  but  he  was  so  frightened  by  the  Bull's  ferocious 
manner  that  he  turned  away  and  .scurried  frantically 
down  the  gang-plank,  and  hid  under  a  big  stone  in  the1  sand. 

"  How  awfully  mean  for  the  Bull  to  talk  like  that  to  such 


a  little  animal!"  whisper- 
ed Tommy  to  the  ex  -  Pi- 
rate. 

"  That's  what  he  always 
does.  Never  takes  a  fel- 
low his  size,"  answered  the 
ex-Pirate.  "  He  bullies  the 
little  ones;  that's  why  he's 
called  a  Bull." 

Presently  a  Crocodile 
came  stamping  up  the  gang- 
plank. He  had  a  business- 
like expression  in  his  eye, 
and  a  cold  sarcastic  smile 
displayed  his  glistening 
rows  of  sharp  teeth.  He 
stepped  right  up  to  the  tick- 
et-window, and  thrust  his 
long  snout  in  so  suddenly 
that  he  almost  knocked  the 
Bull  off  his  stool. 

'•  What  do  you  mean  by 
sending  me  a  miniature 
ticket  like  this  ?"  he  shouted, 
fiercely. 

The"  Bull  stuttered,  "I 
beg  your  pardon,  sir;  but 
won't  you  allow  me  to  look 
at  the  ticket  ?" 

The  Crocodile  passed  the 
paper  in. 

"Oh,  it's  all  a  mistake," 
began  the  Bull,  apologetic- 
ally. "  I  assure  you  it  is  all 
a  mistake — 

"I  should  say  it  was,"  interrupted  the  Crocodile,  who 
appeared  to  be  in  an  exceedingly  unpleasant  frame  of 
mind.  "Do  you  think  for  a  moment  that  I  am  going  to 
take  any  such  accommodations  as  that  ?  Do  yon  think  I  can 
sleep  in  any  berth  that  was  built  for  a  Lizard  '.'" 

"It's  a  mistake,"  repeated  the  Bull,  affably.  "Your 
quarters  are  on  the  main-deck,  starboard  side,  No.  417,"  and 
he  passed  out  the  ticket  he  had  taken  away  from  the  Liz- 
ard. 

The  Crocodile  did  not  appear  satisfied.  He  stuck  his  nose 
through  the  window  again  and  shouted: 

"  Well,  I  want  satisfaction  !  I  want  satisfaction,  and  I'm 
going  to  have  it — : 

But  the  crowd  of  animals  in  line  behind  the  Crocodile, 
tired  nf  waiting,  gave  a  push  that  sent  the  latter  past  the 
window  and  out  into  the  main  hall,  still  mumbling  some- 
thing about  "satisfaction."  The  Bull  looked  out  of  his  of- 
fice, much  relieved,  and  shouted  down  the  line, 
"Somebody  tell  that  Lizard  lie  cau  come  in." 
It  did  not  take  so  long  as  Tommy  thought  it  would  for 
all  the  animals  to  get  on  board.  When  the  last  one  had 
passed  in,  preparations  were  made  to  haul  up  the  gang- 
plank, for  the  wind  had  freshened,  the  skies  had  darkened, 
and  the  general  appearance  of  the  heavens  betokened  the 
approaching  storm.  Just  as  the  big  plank  was  about  to  be 
taken  aboard,  faint  voices  were  heard  from  the  ground  out- 
side: 

"  Wait  a  moment!  wait  a  moment !"  they  cried.  "  Wait 
for  us  ;  we're  almost  there !" 

It  was  the  Turtles.  By  so  close  a  margin  did  they  get 
into  the  Ark.  The  Bull  scolded  them  as  they  passed,  and 
then  slammed  down  the  window,  and  the  Gopher,  on  the 
rafter  next  to  Tommy,  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief. 

Soon  afterwards  it  began  to  rain.  The  big  drops  fell 
noisily  upon  the  shingled  roof  of  the  Ark,  and  pattered  on 
the  window-panes. 

"  What  is  that  noise?" asked  a  little  Armadillo. 
"  That's  the  rain,  dear,"  replied  its  parent. 
"Oh  no,"  said  the  little  one;  "the  reindeer  are  sleeping 
down-stairs." 

And  then  there  was  a  great  jolt,  and  the  Ark  floated  off 
on  the  flood. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


872 


INTERSCHOEASTIC 


THE  INTERSCHOLASTIC  MATCHES  AT  NEWPORT  promise  to 
be  more  interesting  this  year  than  ever  before.  The 
game  put  up  by  the  various  players  who  are  to  represent 
the  schools  in  the  national  tournament  has  been  of  so  much 
highrr  an  order  than  that  of  any  previous  season,  that  it 
has  attracted  more  than  the  usual  amount  of  attention 
from  sportsmen  not  directly  interested  in  the  schools. 
There  is  better  material  blossoming  this  August  than  has 
come  forward  for  many  years,  and  most  of  it  is  coming  out 
of  the  schools.  The  new  players  who  are  making  them- 
selves prominent  are  all  young  men — not  men  who  have 
been  playing  many  years  and  have  finally  developed  skill. 
Thus  it  is  very  evident  that  the  formation  of  the  Interscbo- 
lastic  Tennis  Association  has  been  a  good  thing,  and  if 
properly  supported — as  I  have  no  doubt  it  will  be — it  is 
bound  to  aid  materially  the  progress  and  refinement  of  the 
game.  It  means  the  early  development  of  good  players 
and  a  higher  standard  in  inter-collegiate  tennis.  Already 
iuterscholastic  tennis,  in  its  first  champion,  has  given  us  a 
national  representative  who  last  year  saved  our  trophy 
from  foreign  hands. 

THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  MOVEMENT  may  be  summed  up  in 
few  words.  It  was  initiated  by  the  Harvard  University 
Lawn -Tennis  Club  at  the  suggestion  of  its  secretary, 
William  D.  Orcutt,  in  1891,  when  the  first  tournament  was 
held  upon  the  college  grounds,  Saturday,  May  2d,  ten 
schools  having  replied  to  the  circulars  and  letters  by  send- 
ing representatives — twenty-five  in  all.  The  tournament, 
played  off  in  two  days  without  a  default,  was  won  by  R. 
D.  Wreuu,  of  the  Cambridge  Latin  School,  and  created  no 
small  amount  of  interest  both  in  college  and  schools  as  the 
large  audience  at  the  courts  testified.  From  this  beginning 
grew  the  idea  of  an  Interscholastic  Association,  with  an 
annual  tournament  as  a  national  fixture.  In  1892,  there- 
fore, Harvard  sent  out  further  circulars  inviting  prepara- 
tory schools  to  send  representatives  to  a  second  tournament, 
to  be  held  under  the  auspices  of  the  United  States  National 
Lawn-Tennis  Association,  by  the  Harvard  Club,  with  the 
intention  of  forming  a  permanent  association  of  the  schools 
at  a  meeting  to  be  called  on  the  day  of  the  tournament.  In 
response  sixty-six  entries  were  received,  representing  at 
least  twenty-four  schools.  The  tournament,  held  May  7th, 
was  won  by  M.  G.  Chace,  another  who  has  since  distin- 
guished himself  among  onr  ranked  players,  and  afterwards, 
as  had  been  proposed,  the  association  was  formed. 

THE  FORMATION  OF  THE  HARVARD  Interscholastic  Associ- 
ation was  an  incentive  to  other  colleges  to  attempt  similar 
organizations,  and  in  1893,  Yale,  Princeton,  and  Columbia 
started  such  associations,  and  held  tournaments.  The  four 
winners  of  these  events  met  that  year  in  Newport,  at  the 
time  of  the  national  tournament,  to  determine  the  Inter- 
scholastic  champion,  and  again  in  1894,  after  similar  pre- 
paratory tournaments. 

The  following  table  shows  the  Interscholastic  champions 
up  to  date  : 


Ye,, 

Played  »t 

Singles. 

School. 

1891  .... 
1892  .  .  . 
1893  .  .  . 
1S94  .... 

Cambridge 
Cumbridjje 
Newport, 
Newport 

R.  D.  Wrenii 
M.  G.  Cl'ace 
C.  R   Endlong 
W.  G.  Parker 

Cambridge  Latin. 
Univ.  Grammar,  Prov. 
High,  Providence. 
Tutor,  New  York. 

THESE  IXTEKSCHOLASTIC  LISTS  have  already  introduced 
several  fine  tennis  players.  E.  D.  Wrenii  is  the  present 
national  champion.  M.  G.  Chace  ranked  fourth  in  the  ten 
of  1893,  and  by  the  new  method  is  in  '94  ranked  in  Class  2. 
C.  R.  Endlong  entered  the  first  ten  the  year  of  his  inter- 


scholastic  championship,  and  now,  with  W.  G.  Parker,  is 
placed  in  Class  4,  (i  15).  It  is  natural  that  the  older  play- 
ers should  watch  the  ranks  of  the  interscholastics  with  .sonic 
interest,  for  it  is  here  that  the  coming  players  are  most  apt 
to  show  themselves  first. 

THIS  YEAR  THE  CONTESTANTS  at  Newport  will  be  L.  E. 
Ware,  Roxbury  Latin  School,  of  the  Harvard  I.S.L.-T.A. ; 
M.  W.  Beaman,  Lawrenceville,  of  the  Princeton  I.S.L.-T.A. ; 
and  Waltz,  Leal's  School,  of  the  Columbia  I.S.L.-T.A.  J.  P. 
Sheldon,  Jun.,  of  Hotchkiss  Academy,  Lakeville,  won  the 
Yale  Intel-scholastic  tournament,  but  may  not  be  able  to  be 
present  at  Newport  this  week.  Of  these  four  players  the 
chances  seem  in  favor  of  Ware,  who  has  already  some  prac- 
tical tournament  experience  to  back  his  good  play.  Last 
year  he  won  the  Harvard  Interscholastic,  but  was  defeated 
at  Newport  by  W.  G.  Parker,  winner  of  the  championship. 
At  Longwood,  last  year,  he  showed  excellent  form  in  his 
match  against  Lamed,  from  whom  he  won  the  first  two 
sets,  and  at  Saratoga  he  was  "runner-up"  in  the  tourna- 
ment for  the  New  York  State  Championship.  This  season 
he  has  also  appeared  in  several  tournaments.  At  Long- 
wood,  having  reached  the  serai-final  round,  he  lost  to  M.  D. 
Whitman,  whom  he  had  before  defeated  in  the  Harvard 
Iuterscholastic.  In  the  double  contests  at  Elniira,  Ware 
and  W.  M.  Scudder  played  a  close  match  in  the  finals  against 
Fisher  and  Paret.  In  his  game,  Ware's  strong  ground 
stroke,  quick  judgment,  and  self-  possession  give  good 
promise  of  a  future  player. 

THE  NAMES  OF  THE  OTHER»THREE  contestants  do  not 
figure  so  conspicuously  in  large  tournaments.  Sheldon 
has  played  in  Western  State  championships,  winning  in 
Ohio,  but  he  has  not  had  the  experience  of  Ware  against 
onr  best  Eastern  players.  He  easily  won  the  Yale  Inter- 
scholastic, not  losing  a  set  even  to  the  winner  of  that 
event  last  year.  He  is  good  both  back  and  at  the  net, 
placing  with  some  accuracy,  and  certainly  in  these  prelim- 
inary contests  he  showed  a  very  good  understanding  of  the 
game.  If  he  keeps  his  steadiness  and  coolness  under  the 
excitement  of  closely  contested  matches  he  should  prove  a 
formidable  adversary  for  Ware.  Concerning  Beaman  and 
Waltz  it  is  more  difficult  to  pass  judgment,  these,  as  \et, 
having  given  little  public  exhibition  of  their  games.  Waltz 
ranks  as  a  third-rate  local  player,  having  been  easily  beaten 
in  local  matches  by  the  Miles  and  by  Holcouibe  Ward  at 
Orange. 

IT  IS  TO  BE  REGRETTED  that  Whitman  is  ineligible  for 
the  Newport  event,  for  he  is  a  strong  man.  and  has  shown 
wonderful  improvement  since  Ware  defeated  him  on  I  Inline* 
Field  in  May.  He  is  sure  to  become  a  prominent  pla\er  in 
the  early  future.  Some  of  the  other  good  men  that  the 
schools  have  produced,  and  who  will  doubtless  lie  at  New- 
port, are  Beals,  Wright,  Henderson,  and  Jloerau  of  South- 
ampton, and  Palmer  of  Hohokns 

IT  CANNOT  HE  Iioriiiin  that   larger  co-operation  In    tin- 
different   colleges    in    this    tield    of   iuterscholastic    tennis 
would  be  of  the  greatest  benefit  to  the  game  in  this  cmm- 
try.      It   would   oiler    early    incenthe    to    youim    pi 
throughout  the  land,  ami  CSTrj  a  step   further  the   general 
system  of  sectional  tournaments  already  instituted  In   i  In- 
central  assoeiaiinn  to  spur  our  players  to  greater  and  more 
scientific  effort.      The   contests  last   year  at    flov  pOl 
again  this  spring  at  tin-  Neighborhood  Club.  West  Newton. 
Massachusetts,  where   onr  men    came  in   contact   \\ith    lor- 
e in n ers.  brought  out   both  onr  weakness  and  our  stn 
it  showed  clearly  that  our  worst  fault  is  the  unsteadiness 


873 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


of  Ainericau  players.  That  this  early  tournament  playing, 
accustoming  young  meu  to  watch  their  strokes  and  play 
carefully,  must  aid  in  remedying  this  evil  among  the  rising 
players  hardly  needs  to  be  pointed  out,  while  the  new  op- 
portunity of  meeting  equal  or  better  players  must  also 
promote  skill  and  brilliancy  in  play.  Add  to  this  the  closer 
ron tact  of  school  and  college,  and  there  seems  strong  argu- 
ment for  the  more  vigorous  support  of  such  a  cause. 

IN  LESS  THAN  A  MONTH  football  will  be  taking  np  most 
of  the  time  and  attention  that  school  athletes  can  devote 
to  sport.  The  coming  season  should  be  a  notable  one  in 
the  history  of  the  game  too,  for  it  will  show  whether  or 
not  the  schools  are  going  to  allow  themselves  to  be  influ- 
enced by  the  better  or  the  worse  element  that  is  identified 
with  the  game.  The  better  element  is  the  one  which  has 
been  trying  for  years  to  arrange  a  code  of  rules  that  would 
purge  the  sport  as  much  as  possible  of  opportunities  for 
the  practice  of  rough  and  unsportsmanlike  methods.  The 
other  element  is  the  one  which  has  been  trying  for  just  as 
many  years  to  evade  the  rules  laid  down.  If  the  school 
players  will  frown  upon  all  unfair  methods,  and  refuse  to 
countenance  sharp  practice  in  the  game,  if  they  will  in- 
sist upon  adhering  to  the  spirit  as  well  as  to  the  letter  of 
the  law,  they  will  soon  swell  the  ranks  of  the  better  ele- 
ment of  football  men  to  such  proportions  that  the  other 
class  will  find  itself  entirely  overruled. 

IT  IS  UNFORTUNATE  that  we  should  be  forced  to  admit 
that  sharp  practice  occurs  in  football  to  a  greater  extent, 
probably,  than  in  any  other  sport.  But, nevertheless,  I  think 
this  is  true.  More  acts  of  meanness  are  performed  in  the 
course  of  one  football  game  almost  than  in  a  whole  season 
of  baseball  or  tennis  or  track  athletics.  Meu  will  punch 
and  kick  one  another  when  the  referee  is  not  looking,  and 
they  will  resort  to  all  sorts  of  small  tricks  that  they  would 
blush  to  acknowledge  afterwards.  But,  remember,  this  is 
not  the  fault  of  the  game,  it  is  the  fault  of  the  man.  And 
the  endeavor  of  every  true  sportsman  should  be  to  get  this 
sort  of  man  out  of  the  way.  We  don't  want  him.  He  does 
more  harm  than  good,  even  if  he  is  the  best  player  on  the 
eleven. 

IT  is  CONSIDERED  CLEVER  by  many  to  do  as  many  small 
and  mean  acts  as  possible  in  a  match  game  of  football. 
To  resort  to  petty  practices  is  looked  upon  by  them  as 
good  pla.yiug.  But  there  is  no  good  playing,  except  fair 
and  honest  playing.  These  same  men  who  will  kick  their 
opponents  in  the  shins  when  the  umpire  is  not  looking  are 
those  who  encourage  players  to  attend  school  during  the 
football  season,  not  caring  whether  they  remain  afterwards 
or  not.  It  is  surprising  how  much  of  this  is  done,  and  I 
have  actually  heard  meu  say  (instead  of  refusing  to  play 
with  a  team  composed  of  such  men)  that  they,  too,  have 
hired  or  obtained  players  to  meet  their  rivals' crooked  tac- 
tics. What  an  argument!  Where  would  the  ethics  of 
sport  end  up  if  such  logic  were  to  be  accepted?  Why  caii- 
not  we  all  become  thoroughly  imbued  with  the  idea  of 
sport  for  sport's  sake  only?  We  do  not  play  to  ir'm.  We 
play  for  the  sake  of  playing — for  the  sake  of  the  sport, 
the  exercise,  the  fellowship,  and  good  blood  that  is  to  re- 
sult. 

LAST  YEAR  AND  THE  YEAl:  BEFORE  there  was  more  than 
one  school  in  the  Connecticut  High-School  Lea.gue  that  re- 
sorted to  practices  not  entirely  consistent  with  true  sports- 
manship. I  speak  of  these  now  because  my  attention  has 
I.e.  ii  directly  called  to  them,  and  because  I  believe  from 
personal  investigation  that  they  were  guilty  certainly  of  a 
portion  of  the  misdeeds  that  rumor  credited  them  with.  In 
the  other  scholastic  football  associations  I  have  known  of 
irregularities,  but  of  none  quite  so  flagrant  as  those  of  Con- 
necticut. There  several  football  players  have  suddenly 
been  seized  with  a  desire  to  attend  school  just  as  the  sea- 
son opened,  and  have  lost  all  inclination  to  study  imme- 
diately after  Thanksgiving. 


IT  is,  OF  COURSE,  IMPOSSIBLE  TO  SAY  outright  that  these 


men  are  improperly  induced  to  enter  school,  for  such  a 
thing  is  very  hard  to  prove.  But  it  is  perfectly  just  to  say 
that  no  Captain  of  an  amateur  eleven  or  of  a  school  e!e\en 
should  allow  any  man  to  play  on  his  team  whom  he  does 
not  believe  to  be  a  bona  fidf  scholar  who  means  to  remain 
in  school  until  the  end  of  the  year — a  scholar  who  has 
come  to  learn  what  is  taught  in  the  class-room,  not  what 
is  practised  on  the  football  field. 

IT  is  RIDICULOUS  for  any  Captain  to  assert  that  he  does 
not  know  what  the  meu  on  his  team  intend  doing  a  month 
hence.  It  is  his  business  as  Captain  to  know  this.  He 
should  know  where  his  players  come  from,  how  long  they 
are  to  be  in  school,  and  all  about  their  football  experience. 
If  he  does  not  know  all  this  he  is  a  mighty  poor  Captain. 
and  ought  to  be  replaced.  And  the  Captain  who  allows  a 
man  to  play  on  his  eleven  whom  he  suspects  of  having  in- 
tentions of  leaving  school  before  the  year  closes  is  not  a  fit 
leader  for  an  honest  school's  football  team,  and  should  like- 
wise be  replaced.  The  best  Captain  in  the  end  is  the  most 
honest  Captain,  and  the  most  honest  Captain  is  the  best 
sportsman. 

WHILE  SPEAKING  OF  SPORTSMEN  and  sportsmanship  I 
should  like  to  call  the  attention  of  all  the  readers  of  this 
Department  to  a  definition  of  "sportsman,"  published  in 
the  "Amateur  Sport"  columns  of  //«rynr's  ll'i  </,///  of  August 
17th :  "  A  sportsman  engages  in  sport  for  sport's  sake  only, 
and  docs  by  others  as  lie  would  be  done  by.  A 'sporting 
man' or 'sport' enters  sport  for  mercenary  motives,  and 
prefers  to  'do'  others."  This  is  only  one  sentence  from  a 
very  good  sermon.  I  recommend  the  entire  article  to  every 
one  interested  in  the  welfare  of  sport. 

THE  ACADEMIC  ATHLETIC  LEAGUE  of  California  has  track- 
athletic  sports  as  well  as  football  in  the  autumn  term. 
Their  next  semi-annual  field-day  is  to  be  held  September 
28th,  and  from  present  reports  the  new  material  in  the 
schools  is  going  to  make  a  showing.  As  the  meet  is  to  be 
held  on  the  University  of  California  track,  which  has  the 
fastest  100-yard  course  ou  the  Coast,  the  A.A.L.  sprinting 
records,  which  are  at  present  lOf  and  25-1  sees.,  ought  to  be 
reduced.  Parker,  Hanilin,  and  Chick  are  the  most  promis- 
ing meu  to  do  the  work,  Chick  being  a  new  man  and  a 
brother  of  the  University  of  California  sprinter.  Lynch 
of  the  B.H.-S.  has  gone  to  Oakland  to  live,  and  will  wear 
the  O.H.-S.  colors  at  the  next  field-day.  He  has  improved 
greatly  in  his  hammer  throwing.  The  O.H.-S.  team,  by-the- 
way,  stands  a  good  chance  of  retaining  the  interscholastic 
championship  of  the  Coast,  and  if  the  teams  are  increased 
from  seven  to  ten  men,  as  is  now  proposed,  the  other  schools 
will  have  to  work  hard  to  defeat  them. 

THE  CALIFORNIA  SCHOOL  ATHLETES  certainly  go  ahead 
of  their  Eastern  brethren  in  enthusiasm  and  true  love  of 
sport.  This  Department  has  for  some  time  been  urging 
the  formation  of  a  general  Interscholastic  Association  ;  but 
as  yet  nothing  has  been  done  toward  any  such  organiza- 
tion, although  I  understand  that  active  steps  in  this  di- 
rection are  to  be  taken  here  as  soon  as  the  schools  open 
next  month.  It  may  be  due  to  the  long  summer  vacation 
that  nothing  has  been  done  yet.  But  in  California  inter- 
est in  sport  seems  to  be  so  lively  that  there  is  no  vacation 
interference.  In  a  recent  letter  from  Oakland,  one  of  the 
prominent  meu  of  the  A.A.L.  says:  "In  regard  to  your 
proposition  for  a  general  American  Interscholastic  League, 
I  can  say  that  it  meets  with  the  approval  of  the  boys  here, 
and  we  would  be  glad  to  join  it  if  it  is  formed.  The  only 
difficulty  to  our  participating  in  such  a  field-day  would  be 
the  expense  for  travelling  to  and  fro.  If  \ve  joined  such  a 
league  we  would  try  to  raise  the  necessary  sixteen  hun- 
dred dollars.  For  it  would  take  t  hat  much,  at  least,  which 
is  quite  a  good  deal  for  High-School  boys  to  raise.  Will 

you  kindly  let  me  know  of  any  advances  in  this  direct! 

ami  also  give  me  an  outline  of  what  is  intended  f" 

WITH  SUCH  A  SPIRIT  as  is  displayed  in  this  letter  the 
sportsmanship  of  the  Pacific  coast  is  bound  to  thrive. 


874 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


These  lads  are  not  only  willing  to  join  the 
Interscholastic  Association  at  once,  but  they 

l>elie\e  they  can  collect  enough  money  to 
I iay  c.\ | ii 'uses  to  come  East  and  lie  present  at 
the  first  meet.  I  hope  they  will  have  the 
chance,  aud  from  the  letters  I  ha\e  received 
front  sportsmen  along  the  Atlantic  >ca  lu»;i  1 i 1, 
I  helieve  that  in  a  very  lew  months  the 
inneh-needed  association  of  the  schools  of 
the  country  will  be  in  runniii",  order.  Per- 
haps one  reason  why  the  Califoriiians  are 
so  anxious  to  come  here  and  try  their  skill 
is  that  they  believe  they  can  win.  Their 
records  are  not  up  to  those  of  the  Eastern 
leagues,  but  another  writer  from  Hie  A.A.L. 
says:  "One  of  the  University  of  California 
team  told  me  the  Eastern  schoolboys  are 
clever,  but  that  an  Oakland  High -School 
team  could  pull  a  field-day  away  from  the 
best  school  of  'em.  That  makes  me  wish 
w  c  hail  a  l!20  straight-away  herje,  to  see  how 
Dawson  and  \Vnolsey  would  appear  along- 
side of  Syme."  Dawson  holds  the  local 
luuh  hurdles  record  at  19J-  sec.,  aud  WooUey 
holds  the  low-hurdles  record  at  31  sec.  The 
si  ieUs  are  3  ft.  6  in.  and  -2  ft.  6  in.  high,  re- 
spectively. 

IN  OTHER  MATTERS  OF  SPOUT  the  Califor- 

nians  are  just  as  progressive  as  they  are  in 
their  desire  to  come  East.  They  have  recog- 
nized the  justness  of  the  ROUND  TABLE'S 
advocacy  of  uniformity  in  Held  and  track 
programmes,  and  are  trying  to  adjust  the 
A.A.L.  list  to  the  university  schedule.  They 
have  already  adopted  a  440-yard  run,  which 
they  did  not  have  before,  and  at  an  early 
meeting  of  the  executive  committee  on  ath- 
letics a  motion  will  be  made  to  use  a  lli-lb. 
hammer  instead  of  a  12-lb.  weight  at  the 
coming  games.  The  shot  is  already  a  six- 
teeu-pouuder.  TUB  GRADUATE. 


STAMPS 


This  Deprtrtin^nt    ia  hi   li-'l    m   tin'   int.'ie,!    .,1   glum] I    com 

collectors,  anil  [lie  Eiliior  will   IP*  |.]c"i-ol   !<    nnawei 

thesi.-  snlijeuts  so  fur  as  p..sMl>le.     Ci.rreiimmi.jnts  slioul.l  ».Mr«5s  Eiliti.r 

Stamp  Department. 

ONE  of  the  greatest  "finds"  in  the  his- 
tory of  stamp  collecting  has  just  been 
made  in  Kansas  (Jity.  The  letters  of  an  old 
firm  were  about  to  be  de- 
stroyed when  the  atten 
tion  of  a  stamp-collector 
was  called  to  them.  He 
immediately  bought  the 
entire  lot  of  letters  for  a 
small  sum.  Among  the 
lot  were  about  oue  hun- 
dred letters  each  bearing 
oue  or  more  of  the  rare  St.  Louis  stamp* 
issued  in  1843,  and  remaining  in  use  until 
1-17.  The  5c.  stamp  has  hitherto  brought 
fromSl">n  tos-.Min  :,t  auction;  the  lOc.  about 
$7">,  and  the  only  copy  of  tin-  -He.  in  the  mar- 
ket was  soid  in  1S94  by  the  veteran  dealer 
J.  \V.  Scott,  usually  called  "the  father  of 
philately,"  to  a  collector  in  liangor,  Maine, 
for  !jir>0lt.  Tliis  gentleman,  it  is  said,  re- 
fused ail  otter  of  *•>;><« I  for  llle  stain].. 

In  this  new  lot  are  a  number  of  pairs  of 
all  tine, •  varieties  and  several  strips  ot  three. 


The  immediate  result  will  prohabh  he  lower 
prices  on  :ill  three  St.  Loui.s  stamps,  Inn  i  he 
demand  will  probably  fully  equal  the  sup 
ply. 

FIIED.—  No  premium  on  tire  English  shilling',  1MT. 

J.  HALL.— Very  few  gold  dollar*  were  evet  coined, 
aud  many  Imve  found  their  way  lo  the  melting  IIMI, 
or  have  been  practically  destroyed  ti.v  rum<-»i<>ii  into 
hjuiL'li'S.  Hence  the  dealers  ask  from  $1  50  upward 
for  all  U.S.  dollars  in  gold. 

H.  STEVENS. — It  is  impossible  to  give   nnylliiii^ 

more  Iban  a  rough  estimate  as  to  the   muni 

stamp-  collectors  and  dealers,  or  the  value  of  tbe 
stamps  now  in  existence  in  albums,  or  the  amount  "1 
annual  business  done  in  st:unp>.  I  hope  to  give  some 
statistics  on  all  these  points  in  u  future  isaue. 

M.  C.  W — It  would  be  very  difficult  to  explain  the 
dillrivnces  in  the  Brazils  and  Guateinalas  without  il- 
1  us  1 1  at  inns,  or  within  the  narrow  limits  of  this  column. 
I  congratulate  you  on  your  "  find  "  of  \Vurtembergs. 

R  B.  HADDOCK.— The  1S64  and  1S6S  2c.  coppers  are 
quoted  by  dealers  at  lOc.  eacli  for  "  good,"  and  50c. 
each  for  "flue." 

I'IIII.A  us. 

AN   ASTUTE   SEA-LION. 

IT  has  always  been  a  question  in  the  minds 
of  naturalists  whether  or  not  animals  have 
any  means  of  conversing  or  of  communica- 
ting to  oue  another  more  thau  the  most  ele- 
mentary ideas  of  danger,  hunger,  and  afl'ec- 
tioii.  It  would  seem  from  what  lately  hap- 
pened at  Lake  Merced  that  seals,  at  least, 
must  certainly  have  the  powers  of  descrip- 
tion aud  persuasion  well  developed.  Lake 
Merced  was  at  oue  time  a  favorite  resort  of 
fishermen  from  San  Fraucisco.  The  trout 
that  were  pulled  out  of  its  quiet  waters  were 


said    to   be   the   best,  but    so    much    annhii", 

was  done  that   the  l l  linally  disappear  d. 

and  on  I  \  carp  (Vere  to  be  caught.  'I  hen  I  he 
iisll  col issioners  decided  lii  slock  the  lake 

with  in  nska  I  hinge,  iii  t  lie  hope  lhal  the  latter 
would  destroj  i  In  \  m  jeions  earp,  and  even- 
tually at'bird  g I  catches  them.M-hes. 

l.aKe  Merced  is  nut  very  far  inland  from 
Seal  li'iieK,  and  in  sonic  manner  an  old  sea- 
lion  found  his  way  from  the  ocean  to  the 

i|llielcr     waters     bevolld.        lie     lasted    of    the 

carp  and  enjo\ed  his  meal,  and  h.  in-  a 
genial  sort  of  a  sea-lion,  he  returned  to  the 
rock,  where  he  must  have  told  his  friend* 
nf  his  adventure.  He  nnisl  have  told  them. 
and  lie  must  have  organized  a  picnic  party, 
because  the  next  night  a  number  id  seals 
Mopped  their  way  into  Merced,  i:\ei\thing 
was  just  as  the  old  lion  had  represented,  a  ml 
the  band  decided  to  remain. 

Scion  afterwards  some  cniplines  of  the 
commissioners  drew  a  net  across  tin  lake 
to  see  how  the  innskallonge  were  getting 
on.  The  seals,  now  permanent  resident.*  of 
the  lake,  laughed  loudly,  after  the  fashion 
of  their  race,  and  wa\cd  their  tlappei*  at 
the  net-men  as  if  to  eneonia^e  them  to  keep 
on  and  find  out  how  many  musk  allonge  w  en- 
left.  For  the  mnskallonge  had  got  to  the 
last  dozen  or  so  of  carp,  and  the  sea-lions 
had  gobbled  the  muskallonge,  and  only  a 
few  cat-fish  were  found  in  the  lake. 

The  seals  are  still  in  Merced,  but  then  is 
a  firm  conviction  iu  the  minds  of  those  \\  ho 
live  near  by  that  unless  the  lake  is  stocked 
again  the  greedy  fellows  will  return  n>  the 
rock  in  the  sea. 


Highest  of  all  in  Leavening  Strength. —  Latest  U.  S.  Gov't  Report 

J  Baking 
Powder 
JSLY  PURE 


Go 


Camel's  =  Hair 

Chudda  Shawls, 

75C  to  $3-5°  each- 

Worth  from  $2.00  to  $10.00. 


t-G  1t£<$L 


J 

NEW    YORK. 
875 


OFFICIAL  ANNOUNCEMENT  «'"»;«* 

CILLOTT'S  PENS  at  tht.-  mi.  A..U  LjcrosmoH. 
•  A  IV  Alt!):    "Forexi-ell.il  used  in  their 

manufacture,  it  bem^  MI,-  L/I  ;uin->i  ;uui  *•  last  if  ;  super- 
ior workmanship,  espvcinlly  .shown  by  the  careful 
KTindintf  \\  hii-li  l.-av.-s  tin-  pens  free  fnnii  dffffts.  The 
tempering  is  i-xi'ellciit  ;ind  the  action  >•!'  Ilir  tinished 
pens  perfect."  d)  FKAN7  \ 

,  H.  I.  K  IMP.  u.l.  .  TndtvidvalJvdge. 

Approved  :-, 

(JOHN  UnYl"    I  11  U 

(  'ItnirjiHiti  /-Ir.-.-.  Com.  on  Awards. 


: 


I'i'r  \  ear. 

HAKI'KliS    MAI.A/.IM':. 
HAHl'KICS  WEKK1.Y   .......... 

I,  VEPBR'S    IJAZAR 

HAKfi:i;  s  lan  M>  rutLE... 


.•,! 


/Jn.lA  N 

II  Utl'KI!  X  liUOl  IIKKS.  >i'i\  ^oik.  N.Y. 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Bicycle  route, 
bicycle  ro 
Railway  station 
Hill  or  poor  road. 


BICYCLING 


Copyright,  ISEtS,  by  Harper  &  Brothers. 


/CONTINUING  the  trip  from  Philadelphia  to  Atlantic 
V_^  City,  the  first  stage  of  which  was  given  in  the  ROUND 
TABLE  for  last  week,  we  start  from  Hainmouton.  The  run 
from  here  to  Atlantic  City  is  somewhat  roundabout, owing 
to  the  nature  of  the  country  through  which  you  must  pass, 
and  the  run  is  about  forty  miles  in  all.  Leaving  Hammon- 
ton  proceed  through  New  Columbia,  five  miles  away,  to 
Butsto.  The  condition  of  the  road  is  not  of  the  best ;  but 
there  are  almost  no  hills,  and  the  side  path  will,  in  many 
places,  save  you  a  good  deal  of  hard  riding.  There  is  no- 
difficulty  iu  finding  the  road,  except  about  three  miles  and 
a  half  out  of  New  Columbia  you  should  keep  to  the  left  at 
a  fork  in  the  roads.  From  Batsto  to  Greenbauk  is  five 
miles  over  a  gravel  road  in  capital  condition,  and  from  this 
point  on  to  Wading  River  and  New  Gretna  there  will  be 
little  or  no  difficulty  iu  finding  the  way.  The  road  becomes 
poorer  as  you  approach  Wading  River,  and  the  side  paths 
should  be  resorted  to  wherever  possible. 

THERE  ARE  SEVERAL  bridges  to  be  crossed  during  this 
part  of  the  ride,  from  Greeubank  to  Chestnut  Neck,  and 
indeed  there  are  a  number  of  bridges  over  the  entire  route. 
It  may  not  be  out  of  place  to  say  a  word,  therefore,  about 
bicycle-riding  over  bridges.  Most  bridges  iu  the  country 
are  composed  of  horizontal  supports,  running  lengthwise 
witli  the  bridge,  along  the  tops  of  wooden  posts.  Across 
tin--:'  at  right  angles  to  the  direction  of  the  bridge  are  laid 
logs,  sometimes  nailed  down  to  the  supports  underneath, 
sometimes  not  fastened  at  all.  If  they  are  nailed  the  wood 
wears  away  quickly,  and  the  heads  of  the  nails  stick  up 
perhaps  half  an  inch,  and  offer  one  of  the  most  admirable 
opportunities  for  puncture  that  could  be  found.  Never 
ride  over  a  bridge  of  this  sort  at  speed,  therefore,  and  al- 
ways keep  a  line  between  the  rows  of  nails,  so  that  you 
may  not  run  the  chance  of  thrusting  one  of  the  nail-beads 
through  your  pneumatic  tube.  If  yon  are  riding  at  night, 
and  want  to  be  on  the  safe  side,  it  is  wise  to  dismount,  and 
either  carry  or  push  the  bicycle  across  the  bridge. 

FROM  GREENBANK  TO  CHESTNUT  NECK,  through  New 
Gretua,  is  twelve  miles.  From  Chestnut  Neck  you  should 
then  proceed,  following  the  main  road,  to  Port  Republic, 
Smithville,  Oceanville,  Absecom,  a  distance  altogether  of 
ten  miles.  Shortly  after  passing  out  of  Chestnut  Neck  the 
rider  must  keep  to  the  right  at  the  fork,  and  run  into  Port 
Republic.  On  running  out  of  Port  Republic  he  should 
bear  always  to  the  left,  going  down  through  Smithville  as 
described.  There  is  a  road  direct  to  Absecom,  as  the  map 
will  show,  but  it  is  by  no  means  as  good  a  road,  and  passes 
over  several  hills,  that  can  be  avoided  by  following  the 
maiu  road,  which  runs  along  the  valley.  From  Absecom  to 
Pleasautville,  a  distance  of  three  miles,  the  road  is  clear 
enough.  At  Pleasautville  a  sharp  turn  to  the  left  should 
be  made,  and  the  road  thence  to  Atlantic  City  is  very  easily 
followed.  It  follows  the  track  until  after  crossing  the 
bridge,  then  crosses  the  track  and  follows  it  to  Atlantic 
City  on  the  other  side.  This  part  of  the  road  is  in  moder- 
ately good  condition,  considering  that  it  is  so  near  the 
water,  and  that  the  sand  and  gravel  do  not  readily  admit 
of  good  hard  road  bed. 

NOTE. — Map  of  New  York  city  asphalted  streets  in  No.  809.  Map  of 
route  from  New  York  to  Tarrytown  in  No.  810.  New  York  to  Stamford, 
Connecticut,  in  No.  811.  New  York  to  Staten  Island  in  No.  812.  New 
Jersey  from  Hoboken  to  Pine  Brook  in  No.  813.  Brooklyn  in  No.  814. 
Brooklyn  to  Babylon  in  No.  815.  Brooklyn  to  Nortbport  in  No.  816. 
Tarrytown  to  Poughkeepsie  in  No.  817.  Poughkeepsie  to  Hudson  in 
No.  818.  Hudson  to  Albany  in  No.  819.  Tottenville  to  Trenton  in  820. 
Trenton  to  Philadelphia  in  821.  Philadelphia  in  No.  822.  Philadelphia 
— Wisenhickon  Route  in  No.  823.  Philadelphia  to  West  Chester  in  No. 
824.  Philadelphia  to  Atlantic  City— First  Stage  in  No.  S25. 


876 


HAEPER'S   EOUND   TABLE 


Any  questions  in  regard  'to  photogmph  matters  will  be  willingly 
answered  by  the  Editor  of  this  column,  and  we  should  he  glnd  to  hear 
from  any  of  our  club  who  can  make  helpful  suggestions. 

PAPERS  FOR  BEGINNERS,  NO.  13. 
DARK-ROOM   HINTS. 

IN  guides  to  photography,  directions  are 
always  given  fur  varnishing  the  uega- 
tive,  but  with  ordinary  care  a  negative  need 
not  be  varnished  except  for  the  purpose 
of  retouching.  Retouching  means  covering 
the  spots  in  the  h'lm  with  some  non-actinic 
substance.  Small  spots  are  covered  by 
touching  them  lightly  with  a  rather  soft 
lead-pencil.  Sometimes  water-color  is  used 
applied  with  a  delicate  brush,  and  some- 
times crayons  are  used. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  varnish  a  negative 
in  order  to  retouch  it;  for  a  fluid  can  be 
bought  for  this  purpose,  called  "retouching 
fluid,"  which  is  applied  locally  with  a  piece 
of  surgeon's  cotton.  To  "apply  locally" 
means  to  put  the  fluid  on  the  part  of  the 
plate  which  needs  retouching,  instead  of 
covering  the  whole  plate.  A  bottle  of  re- 
touching fluid  costs  twenty-five  cents,  and 
will  last  a  long  time.  Full  directions  for 
use  come  with  each  bottle. 

Fine  retouching  is  an  art,  but  the  ama- 
teur can  easily  learn  to  cover  the  spots  in 
his  negative  which  would  disfigure  or  spoil 
his  prints. 

The  small  clear  spots  on  negatives  are 
usually  caused  by  dust  on  the  plate.  They 
make  what  are  called  pin-holes,  and  wher- 
ever these  occur  in  the  negative  a  black 
spot  will  show  on  the  print.  Amateurs  are 
often  advised  to  dust  their  plates  with  a 
brush  before  placing  them  iu  the  holders. 
It  requires  a  very  soft  brush  and  a  careful 
hand  to  dust  a  sensitive  plate  without 
scratching  the  film,  and  if  the  plate-holders 
and  camera-bellows  are  wiped  frequently 
•with  a  damp  cloth  there  will  be  little  dan- 
ger of  pin-holes  from  dust  spots  iu  the  sen- 
sitive plate. 

Transparent  spots  iu  the  negative  are 
caused  by  air-bubbles  forming  on  the  plate 
when  the  developer  is  turned  over  it,  and 
the  bubbles  not  being  broken,  the  developer 
does  not  have  a  chance  to  act  on  the 
film. 

Larger  spots  on  the  plate  or  near  the 
«dge,  which  seem  less  intense  than  the  rest 
of  the  negative,  are  caused  by  the  plate  not 
being  covered  all  at  once  with  the  devel- 
oper. The  undeveloped  plate  should  be 
placed  in  the  tray  and  the  developing  solu- 
tion turned  over  it  quickly  with  a  sort  of 
sweeping  motion,  and  the  tray  rocked  in  all 
directions  till  the  plate  is  completely  cov- 
ered. 

Never  place  a  negative  in  sunshine  or 
uear  a  stove  to  dry.  The  heat  causes  the 
gelatine  to  melt  and  run  off  the  plate.  If 
for  any  reason  one  wishes  to  dry  a  negative 
quickly,  wash  it,  after  removing  it  from  the 
hypo,  for  about  half  an  hour,  wipe  off  the 
water  with  a  piece  of  damp  surgeon's  rot- 
ton,  lay  the  negative  iu  the  tray,  ami  n.v.-r 
it  with  alcohol.  Let  it  remain  iu  the  ah-o- 
hol  for  a  minute  or  two,  then  take  it  out 


and  set  it  up  to  dry.  It  will  dry  in  from 
five  to  ten  minutes,  ready  for  printing. 

Sometimes  in  warm  weather  I  lie  edges  of 
the  sensitive  plate  will  come  loose  from  the 
glass.  This  is  called  "frilling,"  and  occurs 
when  the.  developer  is  too  warm.  If  the. 
plate  begins  to  frill,  remove  it  to  a  dish  of 
cold  water,  and  lower  the  temperature  of 
the  developer  by  setting  it  for  a  few  min- 
utes iu  a  dish  of  ice-water.  The  tempera- 
ture of  solutions  should  not  rise  above  85°, 
or  sink  below  65°  if  good  results  are  desired. 

In  a  later  paper  full  directions  will  be 
given  for  retouching  negatives,  improving 
the  high-lights,  blocking  out  backgrounds, 
etc.  But  these  belong  to  the  finer  part  of 
the  mechanical  work  of  photography. 

Siu  KNIGHT  GLOVKKBKABDBLEY,  Auburn,  New  York, 
asks:  1,  it  one  cau  use  a  ruby  light  safely  when  put- 
ling  a  plate  in  the  holder;  2,  if  a  plate  should  be  left 
in  the  water  after  being  taken  from  the  hypo,  or  if  it 
can  be  washed  off  and  put  to  dry  at  once ;  3,  in  the 
formula  for  making  blue  prints,  where  it  says  add  one 
and  one-half  ounce  of  citrate  of  iron  and  ammonium, 
if  it  means  three-quarters  ounce  each,  and  does  it  mean 
the  ammonium  In  a  liquid  or  solid  form.  1.  One  may 
use  a  ruby  light  with  safety  in  filling  plate-holdera.  It 
is  wise  not  to  bold  the  plate  too  near  the  light.  2.  Neg- 
atives should  be  washed  at  least  half  an  hour  iu  run- 
ning water,  and  one  hour  if  one  has  not  running  water, 
changing  the  water  four  or  five  times.  3.  "Citrate  of 
iron  and  ammonium"  is  a  double  salt  formed  of  ferric 
citrate  and  citrate  of  ammonium,  and  comes  in  brown 
shining  leaflets.  Ask  for  "citrate  of  iron  and  ammo- 
nium" when  buying  the  ingredients  for  the  formula. 

SIR  KMOIIT  A.  SMITU,  Trenton,  New  Jersey,  asks  for 
a  good  developing  solution,  how  to  polish,  ferrotype 
plates,  and  how  to  keep  films  from  curling  when  dry- 
ing. Makers  of  dry  plates  always  put  in  each  box  of 
dry  plates  formulas  for  developing,  with  full  directions 
for  preparation  and  use.  These  will  always  be  found 
reliable.  In  No.  786  will  be  found  a  simple  developer 
for  instantaneous  pictures,  and  we  shall  shortly  pub- 
lish a  set  of  formulas  with  full  directious  for  use.  In 
Nos.  797  and  805  will  be  found  directions  for  prepar- 
ing a  ferrotype  plate  so  that  prints  will  not  stick.  If 
the  prints  are  trimmed  before  toning,  they  can  be 
pasted  before  removing  from  the  ferrotype,  and  thus 
most  of  the  gloss  made  by  the  plate  will  be  retained. 
Films  may  be  kept  from  curling  by  soaking  the  film, 
after  fixing  and  washing,  in  a  solution  of  one-quarter 
ounce  of  glycerine  and  16  ounces  of  water.  Pin  them 
at  the  corners  to  a  flat  board,  removing  all  drops  of 
water  with  a  soft  cloth.  Set  the  board  in  an  upright 
position  till  the  films  are  dry.  Do  not  use  any  more 
glycerine  than  the  proportions  given,  as  it  will  make 
the  negatives  sticky. 


RECALLED  STORMY  TIMES. 
"  WEI.I.,  that  looks  natural,"  snid  the  old  soldier, 
looking  at  a  can  of  condensed  milk  on  the  breakfast- 
table  In  place  of  ordinary  milk  that  failed  on  account 
of  the  storm.  "  It's  the  Gail  Borden  Eagle  Brand  we 
used  during  the  war." — [Adv.] 


Walter  Baker  4  Go.  Limited, 

The  L»rgtlt  liinuftcturtrl  of 

PURE,  HIGH  GRADE 

COCOAS  and  CHOCOLATES 

)n  thi«  Continent,  htvc  received 

HIGHEST  AWARDS 

from  the  great 

Industrial  and  Food 

,  \       EXPOSITIONS 
\  ;,\  IN   EUROPE  AND  AMERICA. 

IflCaution:  JL"M?'T«Hlf,,XS 

' 'of  the  laheli  and  wr«|»p«ri  on  our 
(TfH»i«,  eonnnneri  ihould  mikefure 
that  our  jilnce  of  manufacture, 
namely.  Df»rrbe*ter,  »!«»•. 
IB  printed  on  each  package. 


SOLD  BY  GROCERS  EVERYWHERE. 
WALTER  BAKER  &  CO.  LTD.    DORCHESTER,    MASS. 

'""iiiiiHimiiijiiHjiiiiiiijiiiuiiiiniiiHuiimiiiiiiiy 

a 


lot-. 


Noah's  Ark 

with  animals,  will  be  sent  postpaid  to  I 
any  address  on  receipt  of  three  2-cent 
stamps.  Theanimals  are  on  cardboard 
— two  and  three  inches  high,  naturally 
colored,  and  will  stand  alone.  They 
can  be  arranged  iu  line  or  groups, 
making  an  interesting  object  lesson 
in  natural  history.  This  offer  is 
made  solely  for  the  purpose  of  ac- 
quainting mothers  with  the  merits  of 

WILLIMANTIC 

Star -A- Thread. 

Sendforasetforeachofthechlldren.  AtMreas    | 
WILLIMANTIC  THREAD  CO., 
\VIHlmuutlc,  Conn. 

iiittHiiMlnltllllllllllllllllllllllinilllllllllllllllllllllltttiiinttitJB 


IV  A  UTCn      Short  stories  mid  articles  fm  the  B.>ys', 
nHPIlLU.    <iirK,  and    Laities'  Depart  mean 
Weekly  Magazine  ;    also  cuntnljiiiicni*  on  all  impor- 
tant subjects,  all  to  be  written 
P.  F.  COLLIER,  Publisher.  .VJI  IV.  I  .".Hi  St.,  >.  T. 


|)ostngc  Stamps, 


I          !  Ir.. 

.-t^-fiKf  r.  .»<(<.>  ;il   ftUt   '     ; 

Mo.     Uld 
U.  S.  and  Conrederate  Stamps  bought. 


100  all  dif.  Venezuela.  ( v>u  !{:<  :i.  <-tc.,  only 

• 
• 
.  k.t>tegnunii,272i  Emii'.u  ,S 


|>IT    10(1    paid   f"r   cant' 

-I'unp-.    K.ir  partirn!     - 
•i  i.;amp-  fir,-.     A|.|  i 

H.  P.  H  ALB  RAN,  10]  TIIM"-.  STRUT,  i 


877 


HARPEK'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Notice  to  all  Hembers. 

It  is  desired  to  correct  the  Order's  records,  es- 
pecially all  changes  in  addresses.  The  new  Patent 
is  now  ready,  and  all  will  want  it.  It  is  far  hand- 
somer tbau  the  old  certificate.  We  make  a  special 
request,  therefore,  to  all  Founders  and  memln  rs 
to  send  us  at  once  their  names  and  permanent  ad- 
dresses. Use  English  capital  letters,  which  you 
can  easily  make  with  your  pen,  and  spell  out  in 
full  at  least  one  Christian  or  given  name. 

A  "  given  "  name  is  the  name  given  you  by  your 
parents,  as  distinguished  from  your  last  name, 
which  you  have  from  your  father.  Use  a  postal 
card,  not  a  letter,  and  put  no  other  matter  upon  it. 
Address  the  card  Messrs.  Harper  &  Brothers,  Pub- 
lishers, New  York,  and  put  in  the  lower  left-band 
corner  the  words  "Round  Table."  On  the  back  of 
the  card  write  the  letter  "A, "and  follow  it  with 
name,  as  directed,  and  address  in  full— street  and 
number  if  any,  town  or  city,  and  State.  If  you  are 
a  Founder,  write  that  word  in  full  anywhere  on 
the  card.  Your  new  Patent  will  then  bear  that 
word.  If  you  were  not  a  Founder,  do  not  use  the 
word. 

Remember  that  if  a  certificate  was  ever  issued 
to  you,  you  are  still  a  member,  no  matter  if  you 
have  now  passed  your  eighteenth  birthday.  Chap- 
ter officers  are  asked  to  send,  on  postal  cards,  mimes 
and  addresses  of  their  Chapter  members.  They 
are  also  asked  to  send  names  of  any  grown-up 
friends  of  the  Chapter  whom  they  may  wish  to 
honor  by  making  them  Patrons  of  the  Round  Table 
Order. 

All  who  have  not  passed  their  eighteenth  birth- 
day, even  if  not  formerly  members,  are  urged  to 
send  postal  cards  as  directed.  So,  too,  are  grown 
folks  interested  in  the  Order.  If  you  have  passed 
your  eighteenth  birthday,  and  have  not  previously 
held  a  certificate  of  membership,  send  your  name 
and  address  and  use  the  letter  "  D."  Members  are 
urged  to  send  names  and  addresses  of  their  friends, 
that  we  may  give  Patents  to  them.  Your  teacher 
may  be  made  a  Patron. 

To  all  who  comply  with  these  suggestions  we  will 
send  Patents  in  the  Order,  inuring  their  names,  cre- 
ating them  Founders,  Knights,  ladies,  or  Patrons. 
The  advantages  of  belonging  to  the  Order  will  be 
attached — and  there  are  many.  We  will  also  send 
our  prize  offers  for  1895-6.  in  which  money  incen- 
tives are  to  be  offered  for  pen-drawing,  story-writ- 
ing, i>oems,  nonsense  verses,  entertainment  pro- 
grammes, photography,  and  music  settings,  and 
for  distributing  some  advertising  matter  about 
Harper's  Round  Table. 

This  matter  consists  of  announcements  and  a 
Handy  Book.  The  latter  is  a  neat  memorandum- 
book,  which,  besides  blank  pages,  contains  lists  of 
words  often  misspelled,  interscholastic  sport  rec- 
ords, a  calendar,  list  of  books  to  read,  hints  about 
amateur  newspapers,  how  to  get  into  West  Point, 
values  of  rare  stamps  and  coins,  and  a  great  num- 
ber of  other  useful  facts. 

Of  course  no  member  or  Patron  is  required  or 
even  asked  to  undertake  this  work  any  more  than 
they  are  asked  to  compete  for  prizes.  Many  mem- 
bers wish  to  earn  the  rewards  offered  by  the  Table, 
and  to  all  such  we  desire  to  offer  the  first  chance. 
These  rewards  consist  of  Order  badges  in  silver  and 
gold,  rubber  stamps  bearing  your  name  and  ad- 
dress, fifty  visiting  cards  with  the  copper  plate, 
and  a  very  limited  number,  because  we  have  only 
a  few  copies,  of  bound  volumes  of  HARPER'S  YOUNG 
PEOPLE  for  1893  or  1894.  These  rewards  are  offered, 
not  for  subscriptions,  but  for  giving  printed  matter 
to  your  friends.  The  offer  is  limited,  since  we  can 
allow  only  one  member  or  Patron  to  accept  it  in 
each  town  or  neighborhood. 

We  repeat  that  the  Order  has  no  "have  to's. " 
But  it  has  many  literary  and  prize  advantages. 
We  want  the  names  and  permanent  addresses 
again  in  order  to  correct  our  records.  To  all  who 
M'ii.1  us  such  we  forward  the  Order's  new  Patent 
and  our  prize  offers.  Use  a  postal  card— and  write 
as  soon  as  convenient. 


Who  can  give  Us  a  Morsel  on  This  ? 

An  experience  I  once  had  with  a  garter-snake 
leads  me  to  believe  that  the  family  to  which  it  be- 
longs consists  of  more  than  one  variety.  One  warm 
d;jy  in  May.  while  scouring  the  woods  in  search  of 


something  of  interest,  I  came  upon  a  small  pool  at 
the  edge  of  the  woods,  seemingly  a  drinking-place 
for  cattle.  Yet  the  water  was  black  with  a  myriad 
of  tadpoles,  presided  over  by  a  monster  frog — the 
largest  I  have  ever  seen.  1  was  interested  in  the 
queer  little  wigglers,  and  did  not  notice  the  ap- 
proach of  a  large  snake,  making  its  way  to  the 
pool,  till  it  had  taken  its  fill  of  water,  as  I  then 
supposed.  I  quickly  picked  up  a  stone  and  killed 
the  snake,  at  first  thinking  it  to  be  a  water-adder. 
A  second  glance  showed  it  to  be  an  unusually 
large  garter-snake,  less  brilliantly  striped  than  any 
I  had  before  seen. 

I  was  about  to  leave  the  pool  when  I  saw  that 
the  reptile's  paunch  was  considerably  swollen,  and 
that  in  it  some  live  creature  was  imprisoned.  This 
aroused  my  curiosity,  and  in  another  moment  I 
had  opened  the  paunch.  To  my  astonishment 
seven  squirming  tadpoles  wriggled  out  upon  the 
ground.  I  placed  them  in  the  pool,  and  all  swam 
off  as  briskly  as  before  they  had.  Jonah-like,  been 
swallowed  by  a  hungry  monster. 

Since  this  experience  I  have  questioned  in  vain 
whether  or  not  there  is  a  separate  variety  of  the 
garter-snake  which  lives  in  or  near  the  water;  or 
whether  the  snake  was  of  the  common  variety, 
and  simply  forced  by  hunger  to  make  a  meal  of 
tadpoles.  Can  some  one  enlighten  me? 

VINCENT  V.  M.  BEEDE,  R.T.F. 

EAST  OUANGII,  N.  J. 


One  Way  to  Learn. 

One  of  the  best  ways  to  broaden  one's  mental 
horizon,  to  make  one  think  of  more  than  the  fa- 
miliar things  about  him,  is  to  enter  into  corre- 
spondence with  persons  who  live  in  distant  States 
and  countries.  You  can  find  such  correspondents 
in  a  variety  of  ways.  Look  in  your  geography  and 
see  the  name  of  a  town  in  a  far  distant  part  of  the 
country.  Perhaps  it  is  a  small  village.  It  has  a 
principal  of  a  public  school.  Write  him  a  letter, 
briefly  stating  your  purpose,  and  ask  him  for  the 
name  of  a  pupil  who  wishes  to  correspond  with 
you. 

Are  you  interested  in  stamps,  bugs,  butterflies, 
minerals,  rocks,  plants,  autographs,  cameras,  ama- 
teur papers— anything?  Enclose  in  your  letter  a 
good  specimen.  It  will  interest  somebody  and 
hardly  fail  to  bring  you  a  response.  You  can  also 
find  addresses  through  Sunday-school  teachers, 
Round  Table  Cuapters,  etc.  Or  you  can,  upon 
meeting  a  1'riend,  ask  him  or  her  for  names  of  rela- 
tives who  might  like  to  correspond,  trade  speci- 
mens; etc. 

Use  your  ingenuity  to  find  persons  with  the 
same  hobby  as  your  own.  When  you  find  them, 
write  them  a  really  good  letter ;  that  is,  treat  them 
well,  not  ill.  Do  not  ask  any  one  to  excu--^  blots 
in  letters.  Busy  business  men  even  do  not  dv  that. 
They  write  the  letter  over  again,  and  their  time  is 
more  valuable  than  yours.  Never  say,  "  That  isn't 
the  best  I  could  do,  but  it  is  good  enough."  Only 
the  best  is  good  enough.  Treat  your  correspond- 
ents well,  and  you  will  derive  much  of  both  know- 
ledge and  pleasure  from  them. 


A  Fire  by  the  Esquimaux  Method. 

I  read  about  the  Esquimaux  method  of  lighting 
fires  iu  Snow-shoes  and  Sleclffes.  I  had  read  about 
the  method  before,  but  had  always  been  somewhat 
sceptical  on  the  subject.  But  as  the  directions 
were  plainer  than  any  I  had  previously  seen,  I 
thought  I  would  try  it  myself.  I  procured  a  piece 
of  soft  pine  and  worked  a  hole  in  it  with  my  knife. 
The  pencil  I  made  of  oak,  and  the  piece  that  went 
on  top  of  the  pencil  I  made  of  whitewood. 

I  then  took  an  old  bow,  and  taking  the  string  off, 
put  on  a  larger  one  about  an  eighth  of  an  inch  in 
diameter.  I  took  a  turn  of  this  around  the  oak 
pencil,  and  drew  the  bow  back  and  forth.  At  first 
I  could  perceive  no  fire,  but  before  long,  to  my  sur- 
prise, the  wood  began  to  smoke,  and  when  I  took 
the  pencil  out  I  found  it  was  somewhat  charred. 
I  have  tried  it  several  times  since  with  more  or 
less  success.  I  would  like  to  know  whether  any 
one  else  has  tried  this  experiment,  and  how  they 
have  succeeded. 

I  would  like  some  correspondents. 

BANPIBLD,  MICH.  CiSSIUS  MORFORD. 

878 


Questions  anJ)  answers. 

Avis  K.  Smith,  Box  84.  San  Luis  Obispo,  Cal., 
wants  to  hear  from  a  Chapter  that  admits  corre- 
sponding members.  GSrasime  Duhois,  21  Chaussie 
du  Vouldy,  Troyes,  Champagne,  France,  is  a  French 
Knight  of  the  Order,  and  wants  to  correspond  in 
French,  German,  or  English,  to  improve  his  own 
and  his  correspondents'  language  construction.  He 
will  write  in  any  or  all  of  the  languages.  O.  Prus- 
sack,  R.  T.  K.,  84  Norfolk  Street,  New  York,  wants 
to  join  a  literary  Chapter. 

Elizabeth  A.  Hyde,  1458  Euclid  Place,  N.  W.,  Wash- 
ington, D.  C.,  wants  to  hear  from  other  Washing- 
ton members  willing  to  help  her  get  up  au  enter- 
tainment in  that  city  iu  aid  of  the  School  Fund. 
S.  L  Barksdale,  a  Mississippi  Knight,  says  he  has  a 
good  many  correspondents.  It  is  their  custom,  be- 
sides describing  places  each  may  have  visit ed.to 
propound  questions.  They  differ  about  answers 
sometimes,  and  so  they  send  us  five  questions, 
agreeing  to  abide  by  our  decisions.  What  is  the 
Flower  City  and  what  the  Flour  City?  Springfield, 
111.  and  Rochester,  N.  Y.  respectively.  How  does  a 
spider  get  his  web  from  one  tree  to  another?  How 
does  he  spin  a  round  web 5  How  does  he  keep 
lines  the  same  distance  apart?  And  what  keeps 
him  from  falling? 

The  spider  possesses  no  special  ability  to  get 
from  one  tree  to  another.  He  depends  upon  the 
wind  generally.  He  spins  a  single  thread  long 
enough  to  reach  across  and  then  trusts  to  the 
wind.  If  the  end  attaches  itself  at  what  he  deems 
the  wrong  place,  he  goes  over  it  where  it  is,  or 
around  by  way  of  the  ground  and  adjusts  it.  He 
makes  the  web  regular,  both  in  size  and  distances 
apart,  because  he  possesses  mathematical  and  me- 
chanical instinct,  just  as  does  the  bee,  only  in  less 
degree.  He  keeps  from  falling  by  clinging  to  his 
web.  He  possesses  no  peculiar  power  in  this  re- 
spect over  other  insects.  We  cannot  express  an 
opinion  whether  a  certain  firm  is  reliable  or  not. 
The  price  of  Abbott's  Life  of  Najmleon  is  $5  iu 
cloth. 

The  rules  of  knucks  up,  with  marbles,  vary  great- 
ly. Here  is  one  way  to  play  it  t  Dig  three  holes  in 
the  ground  three  inches  in  diameter  and  four  feet 
or  more  apart.  The  first  player  starting  at  the 
first  hole  tries  to  get  his  marble  into  the  second 
hole.  I  The  succeeds  he  takes  a  span  with  his  hand 
and  proceeds  to  the  third  ;  if  he  fails,  the  next  play- 
er follows.  Should  he  manage  to  get  into  the  hole, 
he  plays  again,  ami  can  either  try  for  the  third  hole 
or  try  to  knock  his  opponent  further  away  from 
the  hole.  He  also  has  the  privilege  of  a  span.  If 
he  should  hit  his  opponent's  marble,  the  hit  counts 
another  hole  for  him,  but  he  must  put  his  marble 
into  the  hole  he  was  playing  for  before  he  can  shoot 
at  his  opponent's  marble.  There  is  a  point  to  be 
gaiued  in  carrying  your  opponent's  marble  from 
hole  to  hole.  You  can  finish  the  game  in  this 
way. 

The  players  continue  iu  this  way  until  one  or  the 
other  has  gone  up  and  down  three  times.  The 
player  who  has  lost  the  game  places  his  clinched 
fist  on  one  side  of  any  of  the  holes,  with  his  marble 
iu  front  of  his  fist.  The  winner  gets  on  the  oppo- 
site side.  He  then  takes  aim,  closes  his  eyes,  and 
shoots.  He  does  this  three  times,  his  eyes  closed, 
and  every  time  he  misses,  or  hits  his  opponent's 
marble,  he  has  to  put  his  knuckles  up  on  his  side  of 
the  hole  while  the  loser  shoots  at  them.  These  are 
called  the  "blind"  shots.  Then  lie  shoots  three 
times  at  the  loser's  knuckles  with  his  eyes  open. 
These  shots  he  very  seldom  misses.  It  is  best  not 
to  have  too  many  players,  because  there  is  likely 
to  be  confusion  in  the  marbles  and  the  holes.  You 
can  also  play  partners  in  the  same  way. 

The  largest  city  in  the  United  States  is  New  York, 
and  its  population,  recently  enumerated,  is  only  a 
little  below  2,000,000.  The  following  States  fought 
for  the  Southern  cause  of  1861.  passing  secession 
ordinances  on  dates  in  the  order  named  :  South 
Carolina,  Mississippi,  Florida,  Alabama,  Georgia, 
Louisiana.  Texas,  Virginia,  Arkansas,  North  Caro- 
lina, and  Tennessee.  The  States  of  Missouri,  Ken- 
tucky. Maryland,  and  Delaware  refused  to  secede, 
lint  passed  ordinances  declaring  themselves  to  be 
neutral. 


HAEPEE'S   Eor.ND   TABLE 


A   VILLAGE   OF   CHESS- 
PLAYERS. 

WE  learn  from  a  foreign  jonrnnl  that 
the  village  of  Stroebeck  is  known 
throughout  the  whole  of  Germany  as  the 
"chess -play ing  village."  For  centuries 
every  native  of  that  village,  from  the  pros- 
perous freeholder  down  to  the  poor  shep- 
herd, has  been  an  enthusiastic  and  a  more 
or  less  efficient  chess-player. 

From  time  immemorial  the  knowledge 
and  love  of  the  game  have  been  handed  down 
from  one  generation  to  a-uother,  and  parents 
a,r6  still  in  the  habit  of  teaching  it  to  their 
children  as  soon  almost  as  they  are  able  to 
walk.  It  is  one  of  the  regular  subjects 
taught  at  the.  village  school. 

Once  a  year,  at  Easter,  the  children's 
knowledge  of  the  game  is  tested  by  a  kind 
of  examination  conducted  by  an  examining 
committee  of  peasants,  of  which  the  clergy- 
man is  the  president  and  the  school-master 
the  vice-president.  Forty -eight  of  the 
scholars  are  selected  by  lot,  and  matched 
against  each  other  by  a  similar  method. 
The  twenty-four  winners  in  the  series  of 
single  combats  then  enter  upon  a  second 
struggle  among  themselves,  and  the  remain- 
ing twelve  on  the  third.  The  six  winners 
in  the  threefold  contest  are  declared  the 
champion  players  of  the  school.  They  each 
receive  a  prize,  consisting  of  a  chess-hoard 
and  chessmen,  ami  are  escorted  home  by 
their  parents  and  friends  after  the  manner 
of  the  Olympian  victors  among  the  ancient 
Greeks.  Afterwards  a  feast  is  given  in  their 
honor  to  which  all  the  friends  and  relations 
are  invited. 


MARSHMALLOW  PASTE  AND 
CANDIES. 

DISSOLVE  five  ounces  of  l>est  white 
gum-arabic  iu  twenty  table-spoonfuls 
of  water,  and  strain  it.  Put,  it  with  a 
pound  of  powdered  sugar  into  a.  basin,  and 
place  tins  basin  iu  another  containing  water. 
A  farina  or  double  boiler  is  especially  good 
to  use  for  this  cookiug.  Stir  constantly  till 
the  mass  is  very  stiff  and  very  w.hite.  Di- 
vide the  paste  while  still  hot  into  parts, 
flavoring'  one  with  vanilla,  another  with 
rose  ami  a  frw  drops  of  pink  coloring  mat- 
ter, and  another  with  orange-flower  water, 
if  strong  and  fresh.  Then  pour  the  paste 
into  tin  dishes  dusted  with  corn-starch. 
When  cool  divide  into  squares  -with  a  sliaip 
kuifu,  using  it  with  a  quick  stroke.  A  va- 
riety of  candy  can  be  made  with  this  paste 
by  (lipping  the  squares  when  perfectly  cold 
iii  fondant.  The  fondant  should  be  melted 
in  small  quantities,  and  each  portion  difl'er- 
rntiv  colored  and  flavored.  From  marsh- 
mallow  paste  is  made  another  attractive 
candy,  called  Neapolitan  nougat.  Make  the 
marshmallow  paste  as  before,  but  when 
i  thick  and  white  add  the  well-beaten  white 
lot'  an  em;.  When  well  blended  remove  the 
jniass  from  tin:  fire,  flavor  with  vanilla,  and 
•idd  a  pound  of  blanched,  chopped  almonds, 
and  an  onncr  of  pistache  nuts,  also  blanched 
and  chopped.  When  well  mixed  press  into 
,i  box,  and  when  cold  cut  into  bars  and  wrap 
(  earh  bar  in  douMe  \va\i-d  paper.  A-  tins 
landj  will  not  keep  long  put  it  into  an  air- 
isrht  box. 


IVORY  5  GAP 


PURE 


Elisabeth  R.  Scovil  in  her  book,  "  The  Care  of  Children,"  recom- 
mends the  use  of  Ivory  Soap  for  bathing  infants,  and  says:  "  There  is 
rfo  particular  virtue  in  Castile  Soap,  which  has  long  been  consecrated 
to  this  purpose." 


THE  PROCTER  &  GAMBLE  Co..  CIN'TI. 


EARN  A  TRICYCLE! 

We  wish  to  introduce  our 
Teas,  Spices, and  IJuking 
Powder.  Sell  so  Ibs.  and 


nd 

Chain;  50  \\>s.  fora  Gold 
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for  :i  Beautiful  i.nid 
Ring.  Express  prepaid 
If  cash  is  sent  for  goods. 
Write  for  catalog  and 
order  sheet. 

w.  G.  BAKER, 

SPRINGFIELD,  MASS. 


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WOMJEK  CABINET  FREE.  Mitting  Link 
Puxtle,   Devil'i    Bottle,  Pocket  C»ro*r»,  Utti  I 

Wir.-  I'm,  •  i       ' 

Until,  T"<  i  •  t'.-r  w,lh  imBii-r.j-« 

•   oMOOOBargiliurorlOc   r.TirostK*. 
IN'iERSOLLi  «KO.,G5  Cortlan.lt  Str- I  .\.  V. 


BY  KIRK  MUNROE 


Snow=Shoes  and  Sledges. 

A  Sequel  to  "The  Fur-Seal's  Tooth."     Illustrated.     Post  8vo, 
Cloth,  Ornamental.     (Nearly  Ready.) 

Mr.  Munroe  long  ago  established  himself  as  one  of  our  ablest  juvenile  writ- 
ers, and  this  latest  work  from  his  pen  is  perhaps  the  best  that  he  has  published. 
The  story  continues  the  adventures  of  two  boys — Phil  Ryder,  a  New-Kn^lander, 
and  Serge  Belcofsky,  an  Alaskan — from  St.  Michaels,  in  the  northern  part  of 
Alaska,  through  a  aooo-mile  trip  with  dog-sleds  and  snow-shoes  up  the  Yukon 
River  and  across  the  mountains  to  Sitka. 

The    Fur=Seal's  Tooth. 

A  Story  of  Alaskan  Adventure.     Illustrated.     Post  Svo,  Cloth, 
Ornamental,  $i  25. 

A  fresh  and  well-told  narrative.  .  .  .  One  \\mild  not  willingly  lose  a  page 
of  this  charming  story. — Philadelphia  LcJ^ir. 


PREVIOUS    y  GLUMES    BY    MR.    M UN ROE: 

Raftmates. — Canoemates. — Campmates.— Dorymates.     IVst  Svo.  Cloth. 

Ornamental,  Si  2^  each.       The  Four  Volumes  in  a  Box.  Su  oo. 
Wakulla.— Flamingo    Feather.— Derrick    Sterling.— Chrystal,  Jack    & 

Co.,   and    Delta    Bixby.       Illustrated.       Square     idmo,   Cloi! 

mental.  Si   oo  each. 


HARPER    &    BROTHERS,    Publishers,   New  York 


879 


HARPER'S  ROUND   TABLE 


Ml'XVILLK    IB    AN     INGKN1OU8    LAD.        WlTH     HIS    OLD    HOBBY-HORSE    AND    SOME    PARTS    OF    AN    OLD 
UIOYOI.E   UE   I1A6  A    6TEKD   TUAT   GOMES   MEABF.ll   A   KKAL    ANIMAL   THAN    ANYTHING    YET   8KEN. 


STOEIES   BY   GRANDMA. 

REMARKABLE    HARVEST   OF   WILD   ANIMALS. 

"  /"I  RANDMA,"  said  Ralph,  "  what  did  Uncle  James  go 

\JT  to  Borneo  for?" 

"  Well,  I  declare,"  answered  Grandma ;  "  who  ever  said 
that  anybody  ever  went  anywhere?" 

"  You  did,  Grandma,  you  know  you  did ;  you're  trying 
now  to  get  out  of  telling  me  a  story." 

"  But  telling  you  what  he  went  to  Borneo  for  isn't  astory." 

"No;  but  it's  a  good  start  for  one,"  insisted  Ralph. 

"Well,  then,  he  went  there  for  his  health,  I  believe," 
answered  Grandma. 

"  What  was  the  trouble  with  his  health  ?" 

"The  doctor  said  he  had  indigestion." 

"  So  he  went  to  Borneo,  did  he  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"But  you  are  no  tantalizing,  Grandma.  Why  is  Borneo 
good  for  indigestion  ?" 

"Well,  the  doctor  advised  him  to  exercise  by  riding 
horseback.  He  told  yonr  uncle  that  the  shaking  up  which 
it  would  give  him  would  be  good  for  him.  But  he  didn't 
like  to  ride,  so  he  went  to  Borneo  instead." 

"Well,  I  don't  understand  it  at  all,"  and  Ralph  drew  a 
long  breath  and  looked  deeply  perplexed. 

"  Why,  yon  see  the  earthquakes  there  come  so  often  that 
they  keep  a  person  bouncing  up  and  down  just  as  if  he 
were  riding  horseback  all  the  time — so  yonr  uncle  said. 
He  would  often  tell,  too,  of  what  a  good  place  it  was  to 
sleep,  because  there  are  three  or  four  earthquakes  every 
night  which  toss  yon  up  and  turn  you  over  and  save  you 
the  trouble." 

"I  don't  hardly  flunk  I'd  like  it,"  said  Ralph. 

"Perhaps  not,"  returned  Grandma.  "It  makes  some 
-people  nervous.  He  said  himself  that  it  was  the  most 
fidgety  and  excitable  island  that  he  was  ever  on.  It  would 
be  a  good  place  to  play  jackstones — don't  you  think  so? — 
the  earthquake  would  toss  'em  for  you,  and  all  you'd  have 
to  do  would  be  to  hold  out  your  hand  and  look  on." 

Ralph  smiled  a  little,  then  he  said,"  JVbir  tell  me  the  story 
about  Uncle  James  and  Borneo." 

"Oh,  dear;  I  thought  perhaps  you'd  forgotten  that. 
Well,  you  know  Borneo  is  full  of  wild  animals — lions  and 
tigers  and  leopards  and  hyenas  and  jackals  and  ant-eaters 
and  chimpanzees  and — 


"What  are  jimpausies?" 
asked  Ralph. 

"  Chimpanzees  are  a  big 
kind  of  monkey — you've  seen 
pictures  of  them.  Your  un- 
cle James  noticed  that  dur- 
ing every  earthquake  the  ani- 
mals were  shaken  all  over 
the  country.  They  would  go 
rattling  and  rolling  around 
on  the  ground  everywhere, 
like  pop -corn  in  a  popper. 
He  looked  at  the  wikl-animal- 
inarket  reports  in  the  news- 
papers and  saw  that  they 
brought  good  prices  to  sell  to 
circuses  and  park  museums, 
so  he  made  up  his  mind  to 
catch  a  few  ship-loads  and 
send  them  back  to  this  coun- 
try. 

"The  first  thing  he  did  was 
to  hire  a  hundred  Chinamen. 
He  set  them  at  work  digging 
a  big  hole  in  the  ground.  He 
made  it  two  hundred  feet 
long,  a  hundred  feet  wide, 
and  twenty  -  five  feet  deep; 
and  when  it  was  all  done  he 
went  home  to  his  bamboo 
house  and  waited  for  a  big 
earthquake.  In  a  day  or  two 
one  came.  It  shook  the  ani- 
mals out  of  the  woods  till  the  ground  was  all  covered 
with  them,  rolling  about  everywhere.  There  was  every 
kind  of  animal,  from  wild  dogs  and  porcupines  to  elephants 
and  hippopotami.  They  soon  began  to  roll  into  the  hole, 
and  as  the  earthquake  kept  on  it  gradually  tilled  up. 
Pretty  soon  it  was  full,  and  ferocious  and  bloodthirsty 
beasts  were  boiling  up  out  of  it  just  like  foam  out  of  a 
glass  of  soda-water — so  I  remember  your  uncle  said.  Then 
just  as  the  earthquake  stopped  he  went  out  with  the 
Chinamen  and  put  a  big  net  over  the  hole,  and  staked  it 
down  all  around;  and  there  he  had  a  hundred  thousand 
bushels  of  fresh  wild  animals. 

"  As  soon  as  he  could,  your  uncle  began  to  take  out  the 
animals  and  load  them  into  freight  cars  to  ship  to  the 
coast.  He  didn't  get  them  out  any  too  soon,  either,  be- 
cause the  earthquake  had  rattled  all  of  the  little  ones  to 
the  bottom  and  the  big  ones  to  the  top,  aud  the  little  fel- 
lows were  pretty  nearly  smothered.  One  chimpanzee  was 
so  cross  over  being  squeezed  that  he  hit  an  orang-outang 
on  the  nose,  and  if  the  men  hadn't  separated  them  there 
would  have  been  a  serious  fight.  There  were  a  few  natives 
mixed  with  the  animals,  so  your  uncle  said;  but  he  sorted 
them  out  very  carefully,  because  he  didn't  want  the  folks 
he  sold  them  to  to  say  that  he  was  trying  to  adulterate 
his  animals  with  natives." 

"That's  a  very  •intfrcHtiiif/  story,"  said  Ralph,  "but  it 
seems  to  me  that  it  is  a  pretty  hard  story  to  believe." 

"  It  seems  that  way  to  me,  too,"  replied  Grandma.  "  But 
I  suppose  that  is  because  we  never  travelled  in  distant 
lauds.  Perhaps  when  you  grow  up  you  can  go  to  Borneo 
aud  see  if  you  can  find  the  hole  in  which  your  uncle  caught 
the  animals."  H.  C. 


AT  a  recent  School  Board  examination  in  India,  where 
the  task  was  an  essay  to  be  written  ou  boys,  the  following 
was  handed  in  by  a  girl  of  twelve  years: 

"The  boy  is  not  an  animal, yet  they  can  be  heard  to  a 
considerable  distance.  When  a  boy  hollers  he  opens  his 
big  mouth  like  frogs  ;  but  girls  hold  their  tongue  till  they 
are  spoke  too,  aud  theu  they  answer  respectable  and  tell 
just  how  it  was.  A  boy  thinks  himself  clever  because  he 
cau  wade  where  it  is  deep  ;  but  God  made  the  dry  land  for 
every  living  thing,  and  rested  on  the  seventh  day.  When 
the  boy  grows  up  he  is  called  a  husband,  and  then  he  stops 
wading,  but  the  grew-np  girl  is  a  widow  aud  keeps  house." 


880 


HARPE 


psgspisisi? 

-di^lVv  — - 


ROUND  TABLE 


•-i>iu 


,  1895,  by  H.HPUH  A  BBOTHSHB.     A!]  RIBl,t,  Re,erv, 


VOL.  XVI.— NO.  827. 


NEW  YORK,   TUESDAY.  SEPTEMBER  3,   1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO    DOI.LA  KS    A      ',   KAIt 


A     FIGHT    IN    THE     FOG. 


BY   YATES  STIIiLING,  JUN.,  ENSIGN  U.S.N. 


"  A  LL  liniuls  to  muster!"  rang  out  from  the  harsh  throats 
-£\-  of  the  boatswain's  mates  of  the  U.S.S.  Keurmiriji', 
and  the  iTe\v  came  tumbling  aft  tn  the  quarter- deck. 
Tliey  were  as  tine-looking  a  set  of  bluejackets  as  one 
would  care  to  see,  the  cream  of  the  navy  and  the  uaval 
reserve. 

The  new  /ii-ui-min/i'  was  cruising  off  the  coast  of  (ireat 
Britain  for  the  purpose  of  intercepting  one  of  the  enemy's 
finest  cruisers,  which  was  known  to  have  recently  left  Eng- 
land, and  was  on  the  way  to  join  her  sister  ships  in  her 
•own  country. 

Every  one  aboard  the  American  ship  was  wild  to  meet 
the  enemy,  and  the  Kearsargefs  crew  had  not  a  fear  that 
the  fight  would  result  differently  from  the  one  fought  by 
•her  namesake  forty-live  years  before. 

The  lookout  had  .just  reported  smoke  to  ihe  eastward, 
from  which  direction  the  enemy  was  expected.  When  all 
hands  weie  "up  and  aft."  the  Captain  addressed  his  men 
aipon  the  impending  conflict. 

"Men,"  he  said.  "  we  are  here  to  fight  the  must  formida- 


ble of  our  enemy's  cruisers.  She  is  equal  in  every  iv-pect 
to  the  mighty  ship  upon  which  we  stand.  There  are  no 
chances  in  our  favor.  The  battle  will  depend  upon  your 
coolness  and  courage. 

"Men  of  the  main  battery,  upon  you  depends  the  result 
of  the  action.  Your  target  is  t  lie  at red  .sides  and  turrets. 

"Men  of  the  secondary  batter\.  \oiir  nei  \  e  and  endur- 
ance are  to  be,  put  to  the  crucial  test.  Your  guns  inii-i  In- 
directed  at  the  unar red  gun  parts  and  torpedo  tubes. 

"Remember,  all  of  you,  a  lucky  shot  may  turn  the  tide 
of  battle. 

"Officers  and  men,  upon  you  depends  whether  the  new 
l\inr»nr</>'  shall  win  a  name  as  lasting  and  illustrious  a-, 
did  the  noble  ship  IV which  that  na was  inherited. 

"The  eyes  of  the  world  are  upon  you." 

A  few  minutes  later  the  Captain  and  the  cxeenti\e 
cers  are  upon  the  forward  bridge.  di-en--iii'.;  the  miie 
tails  of  the  plan  of  action,  and  casting  apprehensi' 
at  the  low  line  ..I"  1,1  ark  .-moke  on  t  he  eastern  i  • 

The  former  i-  a  line-looking  \ g  "Mi   i-r,  who  ha- 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


rapidly  advanced  to  commanding  rank  through  Ins  zeal 
and  untiring  labors  to  perfect  the  navy  of  his  country. 

Many  an  article  from  his  pen  on  how  a  ship  should  lie 
fought  has  been  published  in  the  scientific  papers  of  Amer- 
ica :  but  uo\v  he  must  put  his  theories  to  the  test — to  learn 
by  experience,  bitter  or  sweet,  whether  he  merited  the  com- 
mendation which  his  numerous  articles  on  naval  science 
have  won  for  him. 

The  Eeanarge,  which  was  launched  in  1900,  is  an  armored 
cruiser  of  9000  tons  displacement,  4^0  feet  in  length,  and 
64  feet  in  breadth.  The  main  battery  consists  of  four  10- 
inch  breech-loading  lilies,  tiring  projectiles  weighing  500 
pounds;  two  mounted  in  a  Ill-inch  armored  turret  forward 
on  midship  line,  and  two  in  a  similarly  placed  turret  aft, 
and  four  sMiich  breech  -  loading  rifles,  firing  projectiles 
weighing  y.">0  pounds,  mounted  two  each  in  a  6-inch  ar- 
mored turret  on  either  beam. 

The  secondary  battery  consists  of  twelve  5-inch  rapid- 
fire  gnus  and  eight  6-ponnder.s  mounted  in  armored  spon- 
sous  on  a  covered  gnu-deck.  On  her  superstructure  rail, 
about  l."i  feel  aho\r  the  spar-deck,  she  carries  twelve  :»7- 
millimeter  revolver  cannon  and  four  long  1-ponnders. 
With  this  tremendous  battery  she  can  hurl  two  tons  of 
steel  from  one  broadside  of  her  main  battery  every  minute, 
and  362  pounds  of  steel  from  her  secondary  broadside  every 
li  \  e  seconds.  The  velocity  of  this  metal  on  striking  within 
battle-range  would  be  about  twenty-five  miles  a.  minute. 
The  heavy  shells,  if  striking  within  the  biting  angle,  can 
penetrate  the  armor  of  any  war-vessel  afloat. 

On  her  berth-deck  she  carries  five  torpedo-tubes  with 
two  automobile  Wliiteliead  torpedoes  for  each  tube.  The 
charge  used  is  sufficient  to  sink  any  cruiser  afloat  if  ex- 
ploded within  ten  yards  of  her  bottom  plating.  The  armor 
on  her  sides  is  5  indies  of  steel,  and  her  protective-deck  is 
3  inches  in  thickness. 

Among  the  inventions  which  her  Captain  has  given  to 
his  navy  is  a  sound-detector,  by  means  of  which  a  sound 
can  be  magnified  to  a  very  great  degree,  and  its  direction 
accurately  ascertained. 

The  AYdr.Miri/r  had  been  fitted  with  one  of  these  detectors 
before  leaving  the  United  States,  for  the  Captain  knew  that 
many  dense  fogs  would  be  met  with  oft' the  English  coast. 

She  has  been  cruising  abont  in  wait  for  her  prey  for  over 
a  week.  The  crew  have  been  given  incessant  drill  and 
sub-calibre  target  practice.  The  plan  of  attack  has  been 
discussed  so  often  that  it  is  known  by  all  the  officers. 

The  ship  is  "cleared  for  action."  Every  stanchion  and 
boat-davit  has  been  lashed  to  the1  deck.  Every  movable 
object  on  the  deck  below  has  been  sent  to  the  protective- 
deck  to  avoid,  as  far  as  possible,  the  danger  from  flying 
splinters. 

The  smoke  on  the  horizon  has  approached,  until  now  it 
is  seen  from  the  top  to  come  from  two  smoke-pipes  framed 
l>\  something  that  looks  suspiciously  like  two  military 
fighting-masts. 

The  crew  are  gathered  on  the  forecastle.  The  enemy  is 
now  in  sight,  and  the  Captain's  glass  is  upon  her.  A  care- 
ful scrutiny  shows  her  to  be  a  war-vessel  similar 'in  ap- 
pearance to  his  own.  At  a  sign  from  him  the  drummer 
beats  to  "  quarters."  This  sound  calls  every  man  to  some 
station.  The  Captain  goes  to  the  running-tower,  a  small 
hea\  ily  armored  turret  beneath  the  bridge.  An  aid  enters 
with  him  to  steer  the  ship  by  his  direction  from  the  wheel 
within.  A  small  opening  near  the  top  gives  the  occupants 
a  view  around  the  horizon,  and  numerous  speaking-tubes 
and  telephones  put  them  in  communication  with  all  the 
vital  parts  of  the  ship.  Crews  of  twelve  men  each  enter 
the  turrets  in  charge  of  an  officer.  Steam  is  turned  on  the 
turret-engines.  The  gnus  ou  the  deck  below  are  divided 
between  two  divisions  of  men.  each  division  in  charge  of  a 
lieutenant,  who  has  an  ensign  and  midshipman  as  assist- 
ants. 

The  men  are  stripped  to  the  waist,  and  their  gnus  are 
ready  for  battle;  division  tubs  are  filled  with  water,  and 
the  decks  are  covered  with  sand.  On  the  berth  -  deck 
hatches  and  scuttles  are  opened,  tackles  are  hooked,  and 
the  cooks  are  Hoisting  powder  and  shell  for  the  battery. 

The   torpedo  crews  are  charging  their  deadly  weapons 


with  compressed  air.  Below  the  protective-deck  are  half- 
nakeil  men  in  the  magazines  and  shell  rooms,  handling  the 
missiles  that  are  soon  to  speed  towards  the  approaching 
enemy. 

Down  in  the  depths  of  the  steel  hull  the  firemen  feed  the 
mighty  furnaces  to  a  white  heat.  It  is  all  the  same  to 
them  now  as  when  the  monsters  are  engaged  in  a  death- 
struggle.  The  sounds  of  the  discharges,  of  the  explosion 
of  shells,  and  the  cries  of  the  wounded  will  be  too  distant 
and  miimVd  to  give  them  an  idea  of  what  is  going  on  in  the 
world  above  them.  The  first  news  will  come  when  the 
terrible  torpedo  explodes  against  their  ship's  side,  doom- 
ing them  to  a  watery  grave,  or  the  merciless  ram  sinks  into 
its  very  bowels, or  when  a  heavy  shell  penetrates  one  of 
the  huge  boilers,  dooming  all  hands  in  the  terrific  explo- 
sion that  will  follow. 

The  stranger  has  altered  her  course  and  is  steaming  in 
the  direction  of  the  Kenrsarije.  There  are  her  two  military 
masts,  but  no  flag  as  yet  to  show  her  nationality.  Sud- 
denly something  flutters  from  her  mast-head.  It  is  the 
flag  of  England!  There  is  no  time  now  to  consider  what 
must  be  done.  The  ships  are  but  five  miles  apart,  steam- 
ing for  each  other  at  twenty -knots  speed.  One  minute 
more  and  the  cruisers  will  be  within  battle-range. 

The  Captain  is  a  man  of  quick  judgment,  and  his  mind  is 
made  up  in  an  instant. 

From  his  point  of  vantage  on  the  bridge  he  takes  a  care- 
ful look  at  the  stranger  and  then  at  the  drawing  he  has  of 
her,  furnished  by  the  Navy  Department.  It  is  the  same 
vessel ;  yet  why  would  she  be  cleared  for  action  if  a  Brit- 
ish crui-i  i  ' 

Starboard  ! 

The  mighty  ship  swings  around  in  answer  to  her  helm, 
and  is  heading  perpendicularly  to  the  course  of  the  stran- 
ger. 

Two  midshipmen  stationed  at  the  range-finders  iu  the 
tops  are  pointing  the  delicate  instruments  towards  the  ap- 
proaching ship.  Dials  at  each  gun  automatically  show 
that  the  distance  is  rapidly  diminishing.  The  marines 
have  taken  their  rifles  to  the  superstructure-deck,  and  are 
crouching  behind  a  breastwork  constructed  of  closely  lash- 
ed hammocks.  The  doctors  have  removed  their  medicines 
and  instruments  to  the  ward-room,  and  the  long  mess-tables 
are  in  readiness  to  receive  the  dead  and  wounded.  The 
chief  quartermaster  stands  ready  aft  with  a  spare  ensign  to 
hoist  over  the  ship  should  his  country's  flag  be  shot  away. 

When  the  range-finder  registers  three  and  a  half  miles 
the  Captain  orders  the  forward  turret  to  fire  at  the  stranger. 
The  air  is  rent  immediately  by  the  blast  of  the  discharge. 

The  crew  wait  breathlessly  while  the  shells  reach  the 
height  of  their  trajectories.  One  strikes  the  sea  short, 
while  the  other  strikes  the  stranger  and  explodes. 

The  irrevocable  step  is  taken.  England's  flag  has  been 
fired  upon. 

All  hands  wait  to  see  what  the  stranger  will  do.  Three 
miles  told  the  range-finder. 

A  brown  mist  shoots  from  the  stranger's  forward  turret ; 
at  the  same  time  the  British  flag  is  hauled  down,  and  the 
flag  of  the  enemy  floats  defiance  iu  its  stead.  Two  10- 
inch  shells  fall  but  a  few  yards  short  of  the  Kearsarye.  and 
a  moment  later  the  sound  of  the  discharge  reaches  the  ears 
of  her  crew. 

Two  miles  and  a  half  registers  the  range-finder,  and  all 
the  officers  are  directed  to  open  fire.  Shot  after  shot 
belches  forth  from  the  Krttrxitr<i<'>i  broadside  and  speeds 
towards  the  enemy,  exploding  against  her  armor  and  top- 
sides. 

As  yet  the  Kmrxnrye  has  not  been  hit,  but  now  the  va- 
por from  the  enemy's  smokeless  powder  shoots  from  the 
muzzles  of  a  score  of  guns  not  two  thousand  yards  away. 
and  two  tons  of  steel  are  launched  on  their  deadly  flight. 

The  havoc  aboard  the  Ecurxnryr  will  never  be  forgotten. 
The  armor  is  pierced,  the  topsides  are  riddled.  The  carnage 
among  the  unprotected  men  on  the  gun-deck  and  super- 
structure is  awful.  But  worst  of  all,  many  men  not  wound- 
ed by  shot  and  shell  are  laid  insensible  by  some  unseen 
power. 

Sknlonite  is  the  word  that  passes  from  lip  to  lip.     The 

882 


HAEPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


poisonous  gas  is  the  aftermath  of  the  explosion  of  shells 
loaded  w,th  this  deadly  compound 

Tl ''"  ar?  ™™ed  *''•"">  the  compartments  filled  with 

the   vapor   and   the  air-nght  doors  are  closed    to   prevent 
the  spreading  of  the  noxious  fumes  to  tie 
engine-rooms. 


li"  magazines  and 


Ihe  cruisers  are  now  but  fifteen  hundred  vards  apart 
steaming  in  opposite  directions.  As  they  circle  abont  one 
another  l,ke  m.ghty  birds  of  prey  they  are  fast  approach! 
ing  within  range  at  winch  a  new  weapon  will  I,,,  launched 
against  the  other's  steel  hull,  the  silent  but  relentless  tor- 
Ihen  the  ram  will  soon  crash  through  one  of  the 
crmsers.  Which  will  it  be? 

Tin-  AV«rw  ,•,/,.'»  fire  is  becoming  more  desultory  as  the 
crew  of  one  guu  after  another  succumbs  to  the  'terrible 
influence  of  the  skulonite. 

Suddenly  a  steel  tishlike  weapon  is  seen  shootiuo-  from 
the  enemy's  side.  The  Captain  of  the  Eearsarqc  watches 
wtth  breathless  anxiety  the  line  of  bubbles  on  the  water's 
surface,  as  the  torpedo  approaches  his  ship  at  a  terrific 
speed.  It  suddenly  swerves,  and  goes  but  a  few  yards 
clear  of  her  stern. 

The  Kearsarge's  breast  torpedo  is  launched  at  the  enemy 
'ttith  a  splash  it  leaps  from  her  side  and  speeds  on  its 

errand  ,,t  destrucl The  bubbles  in  its  wake  show  the 

aim  is  good.     It  must  strike.     But  no,  it  has  gone  under 
the  enemy's  ram. 

What  is  that  hazy  line  to  windward,  but  half  a  mile  dis- 
tant ?  It  is  a  most  welcome  sight  to  the  brave  man  in  the 
conning-tower,  and  he  heads  his  crippled  ship  for  the  on- 
coming mist.  Soon  she  is  swallowed  up  in  the  dense  fog- 
bank,  and  shut  out  from  her  euemy's  view. 

The  enemy  gives  chase,  as  the  American  commander  had 
expected.  He  turns  the  trumpet  of  his  sound-detector  in 
the  direction  of  the  pursuing  vessel,  and  from  its  dial  ascer- 
tains her  course. 

The  enemy  is  still  tiring,  but  the  guns  of  the  _AY<i/-.wn/r 
have  ceased  to  roar,  and  "  silence  fore  and  aft  "is  com- 
manded of  the  crew.  The  fleeing  ship  goes  on  until  her 
Captain  is  sine  that  his  foe  has  entered  the  fog,  then  the 
helm  is  [int  hard  over,  and  the  ship  swings  around  until 
the  instrument  indicates  that  the  other  is  dead  ahead. 

Again  the  Captain  is  hopeful  of  success,  as  he  realizes 
that  the  enshrouding  mist  and  the  instrument  before  him 
place  rhe  advantage  in  his  favor.  His  eye  is  fixed  on  the 
pointer  of  the  dial,  ever  responsive  to  the  electric  current 
set  up  by  the  sound  waves  beating  upon  the  sensitive 
diaphragm  in  the  trumpet.  The  ship  leaps  forward  until 
he  hears  through  the  ear-piece  the  throb  of  the  euemy's 
engines.  His  heart  beats  fast,  but  he  knows  that  he  must 
be  self-controlled. 

The  ships  are  coming  together  bows  on.  The  American 
commander  causes  his  ship  to  swing  to  starboard  a  little 
so  as  to  point  her  bow  away  from  the  approaching  enemy. 
The  instant  for  action  has  come.  He  starboards  his 
helm  in  order  to  lay  his  ship  across  the  course  of  the  enemy. 
"Prepare  to  ram"  is  telephoned  by  the  aid  at  his  side. 
The  ship  swings  around.  The  pointer  swerves  from  the 
direction  of  her  starboard  bow  to  dead  ahead.  Has  he 
been  too  late?  Will  he  pass  across  her  wake,  or  will  he 
cross  her  path  in  time  to  receive  her  ram  prow  in  his  owu 
broadside  f  The  needle  points  ahead  when  the  huge  side 
of  the  enemy  looms  up  through  the  fog. 

In  a  moment,  with  a  terrific  shock,  the  ram  bow  of  the 
victorious  AY«/'.wc</<  enters  the  side  of  the  enemy,  cleaving 
armor  and  deck-plating  as  though  it  were  wood. 

Slowly  the  victor  backs  off  from  her  sinking  enemy. 
The  rammed  ship  commences  to  deliver   death-dealing 
shots  ;  but  she  is  fast  sinking. 

She  can  no  longer  elevate  her  gnus  enough  to  strike  the 
Kearsarge.  She  has  heeled  too  far.  The  firing  ceases. 

Al!  the  Kearsarge's  boats  that  are  not  disabled  are 
manned  and  ready  to  render  assistance  to  the  vanquished. 
Not  a  moment  too  soon.  The  ill-fated  ship  1 Is  to  star- 
board, her  stern  rising  high  in  the  air,  her  sere"  s  thrashing 
the  fog  in  their  upward  flight,  the  flag  under  which  her 
brave  defenders  had  so  well  fought  still  waving  at  her 
trucks,  and  slowly  sinks  beneath  the  waves,  sending  up 


THE  SAD   STORY   OP  THE   MOUSE. 

BY  KATHARINE  PYLE. 

ONE  winter,  when   mamma  was  ill, 
And  scarce  could  move  at  all, 
There  used  to  come  a  little  mouse 
From  out  the  l.edroom  wall. 

Mamma  would  scatter  crumhs  for  it; 

'Twas  company,  she  said  ; 
She  liked  to  see  it  run  about 

While  she  was  there  in  bed. 

And  when  mamma  was  well  again, 
The  mouse  would  still  come  out,' 

And  nose  around  in  search  of  food, 
And  scamper  all  about. 

At  last  one  day— oh  dear!  oh  dear! 

A  naughty  hoy  was  I; 
I  set  a  trap  to  catch  that  mouse  ; 

I'm  sure  I  don't  know  why. 

I'd  hardly  closed  the  cupboard  door 

Before,  the  thing  went,  Snap ! 
I  was  afraid  to  go  and  look 

At  what  was  in  the  trap. 

At  last  I  looked;  the  mouse  was  there! 

I  carried  it  away; 
I  never  told  a  soul  of  it ; 

I  could  not  play  all  day. 

And  after  that  mamma  would  sav, 
"Why,  where's  our  little  mouse? 

It  must  have  found  some  other  place 
I  think,  about  the  house." 

But,  oh,  I'd  give  my  bat  and  ball, 

My  kite  and  jackknife  too, 
To  see  that  mouse  run  round  again 

The  way  it  used  to  do. 


SHOOTING  THE   CHUTE. 

BY  WALTER  CLARK  NICHOLS. 

MORE  swiftly  than  the  lightest-feathered  swallow  wings 
her  llight  southward  in  the  fall,  more  rapidly  than  any 
railroad  train  in  tin-  world  .sweeps  along  its  iron  road,  you 
speed  down  a  long  slide  at  an  angle  of  about  tliirt\ 
degrees.  Your  heart  leaps  into  your  throat  as  the  boat  you 
are  in  strikes  the  water  and  skims  unevenly  over  the  sur- 
face of  a  small  pond,  and  then  your  heart  comes  back  to  its 
right  plaee  as  you  find  you  are  unhurt.  Then  you  give  a 
gasp  of  pleasure,  and  are  ivady  to  try  it  all  over  again. 
For  you  have  "shot  tlie  chute." 

"Shooting  the  chute"  is  tlie  invention  of  that  intrepid 
swimmer  and  bold  paddler  Captain  1'aul  Boy  ton.  Captain 
Boyton,  who  is  as  brave  as  he  is  modest,  is  the  man  who 
has  paddled  over  twent  \  ti\  e  t  IHUISJIH!  miles  on  the  princi- 
pal rivers  of  the  world  in  a  peculiarly  constructed  rnlihcr 
suit, over  great  falls,  anil  through  dark  canons,  in  Kiiiope, 
Africa,  and  America;  who  lias  I'onght  sharks  and  seals,  ami 
has  had  all  sorts  of  strange  ad\  ciitmvs.  The  idea  of  the, 
"chute"  first  came  to  him.  he  sa\s.  while  shooting  down 
the  raging  Tagns  in  Spain.  In  his  hooK  In  sa\s: 

"The  thought   struck  me  as  I  was  going  into  some  sub- 
terranean passage,  the  ]  perpendicular  walls  seem  !• 
in  and  swallow  up  the  entire  river.      1  was 
the  mighty  current,  and  was  bcginn:  -ure  that  I 


883 


YOU  SEE  THE  BOAT  LEAP  FORTY  FEET  AT  A  JUMP. 


was  being  carried  into  some  underground  rapids,  when  I 
was  suddenly  dumped  into  a  deep  pool,  where  the  course 
of  the  river  was  running  smooth  and  placidly  along." 

The  first  chute  in  America  was  built  in  Chicago,  and 
opened  for  business  on  July  4, 1894.  It  is  nothing  more  nor 
less  tli nn  an  inclined  roadway  of  wood  or  iron,  starting  at 
a  height  of  from  60  to  75  feet,  which,  with  a  run  of  about 
250  feet,  descends  to  the  surface  of  the  water.  On  this 
roadway  there  are  tracks  upon  which  boats,  each  holding 
eight  passengers,  glide  rapidly  down.  When  the  boat 
strikes  the  water,  the  impetus  acquired  in  the  descent 
causes  it  to  "skim"  over  the  water  in  a  series  of  bounds, 
like  a  stone  thrown  by  a  boy  in  "ducks  and  drakes,"  some 
300  feet  to  a  landing-stage,  where  the  passengers  are  dis- 
embarked. 

But  such  a  brief  description  doesn't  even  suggest  the  fun 
and  the  excitement  of"  shooting  the  chute."  It  is  a  sport 
where  old  and  young  can  meet  on  common  ground.  In 
fact  one  poet  has  recently  told  how 

"Little  Jimmy  was  a  scholar, 

And  liis  aptitude  was  such 
That  his  parents  and  his  teacher 

Were  afraid  he'd  know  too  much. 
So  his  grandmamma  said,  'Bless  him, 

I  will  take  him  into  town, 
And  we'll  go  to  Captain  Boytou's, 

Where  they'll  water-shoot  us  down.'  " 

Suppose  you  were  to  go  down  to  the  chute — for  there 
are  four  chutes  in  different  parts  of  the  country  now.  in 
Chicago,  Atlanta,  Baltimore,  and  at  Coney  Island — you 
would  see  something  like  this:  There  is  a  big  enclosure, 
with  a  high  board  fence  around  it,  from  which  a  huge  in- 
cline stretches  up.  It  looks  like  a  toboggan  slide,  only  far 
bigger  than  most.  The  man  at  the  stile-gate  says,  "  Tick- 
ets, please."  So  you  pay  twenty  cents  for  each  ticket, 


admitting  you  to  the  grounds  and  one  ride  each  on  the 
chute.  Just  as  you  go  in  you  hear  a  roaring,  rattling 
sound,  and  a  boat  comes  rushing  down  the  slide  into  the 
lake  in  front  of  yon.  You  see  the  boat  leap  forty  feet  at  a 
jump  over  the  surface  of  the  water,  like  some  ocean  demon, 
until  it  finally  quiets  down  and  allows  itself  to  lie  paddled 
easily  up  to  the  bank.  As  the  people  in  the  boat  are  helped 
out  by  several  of  the  fifty  attendants  dressed  in  sailor  suits, 
you  expect  them  to  cry  out  some  expression  of  disapproval, 
for  you  certainly  heard  them  shouting  out  in  a  frightened 
manner  as  they  rode  down  the  chute.  But  no. 

"  Wasn't  it  perfectly  splendid?"  says  one  woman. 

"  It  beats  tobogganing  !"  exclaims  another. 

"  Let's  do  it  again  !"  says  a  small  boy. 

A  little  reassured,  you  move  around  with  the  crowd  tow- 
ards the  entrance  to  the'slide,  and,  after  giving  your  tick- 
ets to  the  gateman,  you  all  get  into  little  cars — similar  to 
those  in  use  at  Niagara  Falls  running  down  to  the  whirl- 
pool rapids — attached  to  endless  chains,  which  drag  you 
up  to  the  top  of  ttie  chute  as  slowly  as  the  boats  in  the 
other  part  go  rapidly.  As  yon  get  a  little  more  than  half- 
way up,  a  boatload  of  people  rattles  by  within  ten  feet  of 
you,  and  you  wonder  again  whether  you  will  have  the 
courage  to  make  the  first  trial. 

Once  up,  you  follow  the  others  around  to  the  other  side 
of  the  chute,  where  boats  are  sent  down  every  fifteen 
seconds.  You  glance  down  the  slide.  It.  looks  very  long, 
and  the  water,  which  the  steersman  says  is  only  three  feet 
deep,  seems  very  far  away  and  very  deep.  At  last,  with  a 
sudden  gulp  of  courage,  you  jump  in,  holding  tight  to  the 
railings  as  the  guard  bids  you.  You  see  little,  streams  of 
water  bubbling  up  and  trickling  down  every  few  inches  or 
so  along  the  slide,  and  'way  below  the  big  pool  of  water 
looks  yawuingly  upward.  The  boat-despatcher  has  his 
hand  on  the  lever  which  holds  the  boat  back.  And  now 
that  is  turned. 


884 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"  Hold  fast,  ladies  and  gentlemen.  Hats  under  (lie  seal  ! 
Now,  then,  you're  off!" 

Quickly  the  boat  rattles  into  the  incline.  A  fraction  of 
a  second, and  you  are  rushing  along  so  fast  that  you  almost 
scream.  A  second  or  two  more,  and  yon  are  going  at  the  rate 
of  seventy-four  miles  an  hour.  You  have  lost  your  breath, 
but  the  fresh  air  that  rushes  into  your  lungs  gives  you  a 
delicious  sensation.  You  feel  as  if  you  were  flying  through 
the  air. 

Boom!  Splash!  The  boat  strikes  the  water,  almost 
jolting  you  off  your  seat,  and  whirling  the  spray  high  into 
the  air.  The  people  on  the  banks  of  the  little  pond  whiz 
by,  for  the  speed  is  still  terrific,  and  the  boat  jumps  for- 
ward in  crazy  leaps.  After  two  or  three  of  these  spas- 
modic efforts  the  boat  glides  to  the  landing,  thanks  to  the 
assistance  of  the  man  in  the  stern.  Your  breath  comes 
back.  Yon  find  yon  weren't  hurt  a  bit,  or  even  wet.  You 
feel  as  if  yon  jumped  from  the  top  of  the  barn  into  the 
lowest  but  softest  hay-mow.  You  give  an  ecstatic  gasp, 
this  time  of  extreme  delight,  and  plead  with  papa  or  Uncle 
Tom  to  "try  it  again." 

Yon  "  try  it  again,"  and  this  time  you  are  not.  scared  a 
bit,  just  simply  delighted.  As  you  are  being  paddled  over 
to  the  shore  after  the  last  violent  plunge  of  the  ride,  you 
take  a  look  at  the  boat,  and  notice  that  it  is  very  strongly 
built — of  hickory  and  oak,  the  boatman  says,  and  costing 
over  a  hundred  dollars.  It  has  a  long  slope  upward  in  the 
prow,  less  sharp  than  a  yacht's  bow,  and  thus  the  danger 
of  getting  wet  is  almost  entirely  done  away  with.  Each 
boat  has  four  seats,  seating  eight  people  altogether,  be- 
sides the  man  who  steers. 

Perhaps  yon  go  down  the  chute  a  few  times  more.  If 
you  do,  you  will  have  acquired  the  "  chute  craze,"  and  then 
it  is  only  a  question  of  how  much  money  you  can  have 
spent  for  you.  Abroad,  several  of  the  royal  families  ac- 


(|uircd  the  "chute  craze,"  and  some  of  (hem  have  had 
amusing  times  on  it.  When  the.  present  Kmperor  of  Kus- 
sia,  then  the  Czarovitch,  was  visiting  England  in  July, 
1893,  he,  the  Prince  of  Vales,  and  the  King  of  Denmark, 
went  to  Captain  Boyl.on's  water-show  to  "  shoot  t  lie  chute." 
An  eye-witness,  who  wrote  about  it  to  a  Chicago  paper, 
said : 

"They  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  high  incline',  anil  Hi  • 
Czarovitch,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  invited  the  Kin;;  "t 
Denmark  to  take  the  front  seat  in  the  boat  in  which  they 
\\rii  to  make  the  swift  descent.  His  Majesty  took  Hie 
place,  and  his  nephew  quietly  stepped  in  behind  and  put 
his  silk  liat  under  the  seat.  The  Indian  guide  pushed  off, 
and  in  a  moment  the  boat  was  flying  like  mad  down  the 
steep  incline.  The  King,  who  thought  the  boat  would 
certainly  plunge  under  the  waters  of  the  lake  when  it 
struck,  crouched  down  and  held  on  like  grim  death.  The 
Czarovitch  stood  up  and  yelled  with  excited  glee.  The 
llat-liottomed  boat  dashed  into  the  water  with  a  tremen- 
dous splash,  leaped  four  or  live  feet  into  the  air,  and  a 
drenching  shower  of  spray  covered  his  Majesty  on  the  front 
seat.  As  the  boat  approached  the  opposite  shore  the 
Czarovitch  turned  to  the  Indian  who  was  steering,  grinned, 
and  put  out  his  hand;  the  Indian  grinned  wickedly,  and 
something  slipped  into  his  fingers.  There  had  been  a 
similar  bit  of  pantomime  before  the  boat  started,  and  as 
skilful  guides  can  take  their  boats  through  the  exciting 
trips  without  wetting  their  passengers,  it  is  supposed  that 
the  young  Czarovitch  played  a  little  joke  on  his  royal 
uncle.  The  Prince  of  Wales  came  down  in  another  boat, 
and  they  all  liked  it  so  much  that  they  all  went  back  and 
tried  it  again." 

So  popular  has  the  pastime  been  at  the  chute  near  New 
York  that  over  30,000  persons  have  frequently  "  shot  the 
chute  "  in  a  day. 


TI1E    "CHUTE." 


THE    FIRST   JUMP. 


THE    SECOND    JUMP. 


•TKYIXU    IT   AGAIN." 


885 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


OAKLEIGH.* 

BY  ELLEN  DOUGLAS  DELAND. 


C  H  A  P  T  K  K    X  I. 

/""1HRISTMAS  morning  dawned  cloudy  and  very  cold,  bnt 
\J  it  bad  stopped  snowing,  and  after  a  while  the  sun 
came  out  and  turned  the  country  into  a  radiant,  dazzling 
spectacle. 

The  Franklins  were  to  have  a  party  during  the  holidays, 
and  it  had  been  planned  for  the  following  Tuesday — New- 
Year's  eve. 

"  If  we  had  only  arranged  to  have  it  earlier  we  might 
have  escaped  that  horrid  Brouson,"  said  Cynthia,  regret- 
fully, the  day  after  Christmas.  "  Now,  of  course,  he  will 
come  with  the  Morgans,  and,  worse  still,  we  shall  have  to 
l>e  polite  to  him  in  our  own  house." 

"  I  should1  hope  so,"  said  Edi  Hi.  "  You  were  rude  enough 
to  him  at  the  picnic,  and  I  do  think  good  manners  are  so 
attractive.  I  am  going  to  cultivate  them  as  much  as  pos- 
sible. No  one  will  ever  like  you  unless  you  are  polite, 
Cynthia." 

"I  seem  to  have  plenty  of  friends.'  ivtnrned  her  sister, 
composedly,  "aud  I  don't  really  can'  to  have  Brouson  like 
mi.1.  In  fact,  I  would  rather  prefer  that  he  shouldn't.  I 
wouldn't  consider  it  much  of  a  compliment  to  be  liked  by 
a — a — creature  like  that!" 

It  would  be  impossible  to  convey  an  idea  of  the  cou- 
tempt  in  Cynthia's  voice  as  she  said  this. 

"  And  if  you  are  going  to  have  such  lovely  manners,  I 
should  think  it  would  lie  just  as  well  to  begin  at  home," 
.she  added. 

"  What  do  yon  mean  ?" 

"Well,  I  don't  suppose  you  will  like  it,  but  really,  Edith, 
sometimes  it  does  seem  as  if  you  just  tried  to  hurt  mamma's 
feelings.  I  know  I  ought  not  to  say  this,  perhaps,  for  you 
think  I  am  only  a  younger  sister,  I  suppose,  and  haven't 
any  right  to  lecture  yon;  but  when  I  remember  how  nice 
you  really  are,  I  can't  bear  to  have  you  act  so.  If  you 
only  would  try  to  like  her,  instead  of  trying  not  to  like 
her!  There,  don't  cry,  dear;  I  didn't  mean  to  hurt  your 
feelings." 

Aud  Cynthia  threw  her  arms  around  her  sister  and 
kissed  ber. 

"You  have  hurt  them,"  said  Edith,  with  a  sob,  "but  I 
deserve  it.  I  don't  know  what  has  gotten  into  me  since 
the  Gordons  came.  I  can't  like  her  being  here.  Oh,  Cyn- 
thia, you  don't  know  how  I  fed  sometimes!  I  wish  I  didn't 
have  such  bad,  wicked  thoughts." 

"  Do  you  really  try  to  get  over  it,  Edith  ?" 

"No-o,  not  very  hard,"  she  faltered.  "  I  can't  forgive  her 
for  coming  and  taking  my  place,  aud — and — I  don't  want 
to  forgive  her.  There,  I  know  you  will  think  I  am  bad  and 
horrible  and  everything  else,  but  I  can't  help  it." 

And,  rising  abruptly,  she  left  the  room. 

"Poor  old  Edith  !"  sighed  Cyuthia,  compassionately. 
"She  will  come  round  some  time;  she  can't  help  it." 

On  New-Year's  eve  was  to  be  the  Franklins'  party. 

"Edith,  we  must  have  it  very  original  aud  unique,  some- 
thing quite  different  from  anything  we  have  ever  had  in 
our  lives,"  said  Cynthia,  a  few  days  before. 

"  How  can  we  ?     There's  nothing  new." 

"Yes, there  is, right  in  my  head.    I  have  an  idea." 

"What  in  the  world  is  it?" 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you,"  aud  she  proceeded  to  unfold  it. 

It  proved  to  be  a  good  one,  and  with  Mrs.  Franklin's  help 
it  was  carried  into  effect.  The  suggestion  was  to  have  a 
"  character"  party,  but  to  enact  the  parts  without  dressing 
especially  for  them.  A  list  was  made  of  persons  well  known 
in  history  or  fiction,  and  from  this  list  Mrs.  Franklin  chose 
those  she  considered  the  best,  and  wrote  against  each  name 
i  ii.i  ni1  -"i i H •  MJfi  or  boy  in  Brenton.  This  she  did  without 
telling  her  daughters  how  she  had  apportioned  the  parts, 
I  hat  they  might  be  as  ignorant  as  their  guests  about  one 
another's  characters. 

*  Begun  in  HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE  No.  81T. 


"  It  is  a  truly  Bostonese  party,"  said  Mrs.  Franklin,  laugh- 
ing, when  they  talked  it  over.  "There  is  au  intellectual 
flavor  to  it  that  you  wouldn't  find  far  away  from  'the 
Hub,'  but  it  is  a  capital  idea,  nevertheless,  Cynthia." 

When  the  list  was  duly  made  Mrs.  Franklin  drove  about 
Brenton  to  the  various  girls  aud  boys  -who  were  expected, 
aud  invited  them  for  Tuesday  evening,  explaining  to  them 
at  I  he  same  time  what  they  were  to  do. 

It  was  an  old-fashioned  tea-party,  and  the  guests  began 
to  arrive  at  six  o'clock.  There  were  twenty  in  all.  and  they 
came  hurrying  in  out  of  the  cold,  aud  up-stairs  to  remove 
their  heavy  wraps,  the  girls  tripping  down  again  in  their 
dainty  evening  dresses,  while  the  boys  stood  about  the 
doorways  in  rather  an  aimless  fashion,  wondering  what 
they  were  expected  to  do  at  such  a  very  peculiar  tea-party 
as  this  seemed  to  he. 

It  added  to  the  mystery  that  each  was  given  a  card  with 
bis  or  her  name  prettily  printed  upon  it, and  a  little  pen- 
cil attached. 

"I  never  heard  of  anything  like  it,  don't  you  know," 
drawled  Brousou.  "I'll  be  hanged  if  I  know  what  to  talk 
about." 

After  supper,  which  was  very  jolly  and  effectually  broke 
the  ice,  Mr.  Franklin  made  a  little  speech. 

"Yon  are  all  supposed  to  be  somebody,  and  no  one  but 
my  wife  knows  which  is  which,"  he  said.  ''The  object  is 
for  each  one  to  guess  as  many  characters  as  possible  from 
their  conversation,  and  when  you  have  made  up  your  mind 
who  some  one  is,  you  will  write  the  name  on  your  card, 
with  the  name  of  the  person  yon  are  guessing  about. 
When  your  card  is  tilled  with  twenty-four  names,  which 
HUMUS  that  you  have  given  a.  guess  about  every  one  here, 
you  will  hand  it  in.  Then  the  prizes  will  be  bestowed." 

"Prizes!"  was  murmured  by  the  girls;  "how  lovely!" 
while  the  boys  looked  relieved  as  the  matter  became 
clearer. 

C\  uthia  turned  to  her  neighbor  and  began  to  talk. 

"Good-evening!"  she  said  ;  "did  you  see  anything  of  my 
broom  ?  I  forgot  to  bring  it  along.  Dear  me,  there's  a  lot 
to  be  done  up  there," gazing  towards  the  ceiling;  "why 
didn't  I  bring  it  along  .'" 

The  neighbor  chanced  to  be  Dennis  Morgan. 

"I  haven't  seen  your  broom,"  he  replied,  "but  I'm  going 
to  find  out  why  you  want  it.  The  trouble  is,  I've  come 
too  soon,  I  think,  and  I  can't  find  my  way;  but  I  can't  tell 
you  where  I  want  to  go,  or  you  would  guess  me  on  the 
spot." 

"Ho!"  laughed  Cynthia;  "I  know  where  yon  want  to 
go.  I  think  you  would  like  a  glass  of  water,  wouldn't  you? 
For  I  am  sure  you  have  burned  your  mouth,"  she  added. 

Then  she  wrote  on  her  card :  "Dennis  Morgan — Man  in 
the  Moon." 

"Pshaw!  How  did  you  gness  me  so  soon  t  Aud  I  haven't 
the  ghost  of  an  idea  who  you  are.  Let  me  see,  you  want 
your  broom.  I  can't  imagine  why  you  need  a  broom." 

"Cobwebs,  cobwebs  everywhere,"  murmured  Cynthia, 
as  she  turned  away  and  listened  to  the  conversation  that 
was  being  carried  on  between  Neal  and  Gertrude  Morgan. 

"I'm  a  wonderful  man,"  said  Neal.  "In  fact  I  don't 
know  but  what  I'm  about  as  great  a  person  as  yon  ever 
heard  of.  You  can't  mention  my  name  without  alluding 
fo  it." 

"  I  don't  believe  you  are,  half  as  great  as  I  am,"  retorted 
Gertrude,  "only  I  don't  talk  as  much  about  it.  Why,  I 
am  a  queen." 

"And  I  am  a  king.     What  kind  of  a  queen  are  you?" 

"I  rule  over  a  very  important  kingdom,  and  not  only 
do  I  reign  bnt  I  can  cook,  too.  I  am  one  of  those  very 
convenient  people  to  have  about  that  can  turn  their  hand 
to  almost  anything,  but  I  am  chiefly  celebrated  for  rny 
cookery.  I  made  something  nice  one  hot  summer  day — 

"TaUe  care,  Gertrude!"  cried  Cynthia;  "I  know  you." 
And  she  wrote  on  her  card :  "  Gertrude  Morgan — Queen 
of  Hearts." 

"Oh,  come,  Cyuth,  that's  too  bad!"  exclaimed  Neal.  "I 
can't  guess  her  at  all,  but  it's  because  I  am  so  taken  up 
reading  a  wonderful  book  when  I  am  very  young,  and 
making  colored  candles,  aud  all  that  sort  of  thing." 


886 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"I  thought  you  said  you  were  a  king?"  said  Gertrude. 
'  bo  I  am  ;  a  terribly  good  sort,  too." 
At  last  Gertrude  guessed   him,  and  wrote  "Alfred  the 
Great"  with  his  name  on  her  card. 

Neal,  however,  could  not  discover  who  she  was,  not  be- 
ing as  well  posted  in  "Mother  Goose"  as  was  Cynthia. 

The  one  who  was  most  mysterious  was  Edith.  For  a 
long  time  no  one  could  imagine  who  she  was. 

"I  have  had  a  great  many  adventures,"  she  said,  as 
they  gathered  about  her.  "I  have  travelled  to  places  that 
the  rest  of  you  have  never  been  to.  I  have  played  games 
with  a  duchess,  and  I  have  taken  care  of  a  duchess's  baby. 
A  great  many  of  my  friends  talk  poetry.  I  have  long  light 
hair,  and  sometimes  I'm  tall  and  sometimes  I'm  short." 

"Never  short,  Edith,  I'm  sure,"  said  Neal.  Everyone 
laughed,  for  they  teased  Edith  about,  her  stately  height. 

"I  know  you!  I  know  yon!"  c-ried  Cynthia,  dancing 
with  glee.  "  You  told  too  much  that  time,"  and  she  has- 
tily scribbled  "Alice  in  Wonderland  "  on  her  card. 

She  herself,  as  the  "Old  woman  who  swept  the  cobwebs 
from  the  sky,"  was  easily  guessed,  much  to  her  own  cha- 
grin. 

At  last  each  one  had  written  twenty-four  names  on  his 
or  her  card,  and  they  were  given  to  Mrs.  Franklin  for  in- 
spection. Some  funny  mistakes  were  made,  and  as  they 
were  read  out  they  created  much  merriment. 

Somebody  thought  Yankee  Doodle  must  be  Paul  Re- 
vere, because  he  had  been  spoken  of  as  a  rider;  Julius 
Cii'sar  and  Columbus  were  hopelessly  mixed,  both  having 
mentioned  themselves  as  crossing  the  water,  and  it  beiner 
impossible,  from  the  description  given,  to  distinguish  be- 
tween the  Rubicon  and  the  Atlantic  Ocean;  the  Lady  of 
the  Lake  and  Pocahontas  were  confused,  as  they  each 
saved  a  life;  and  every  one  mistook  the  Old  Woman  that 
lived  in  a  Shoe  for  Puss  in  Boots,  because  of  her  persistent 
talk  about  foot-wear. 

Cynthia  had  made  a  greater  number  of  correct  guesses 
than  any  one,  but  as  she  was  one  of  the  hostesses  she 
could  not,  of  course,  claim  a  prize,  so  it  fell  to  Tony  Bron- 
son,  who  was  next  on  the  list.  Cynthia  turned  away  to 
hide  the  grimace  which  she  could  not  repress  when  the 
dear  little  clock  in  a  red-leather  ease  was  given  to  him  as 
first  prize. 

Kitty  Morgan,  Gertrude's  cousin,  was  awarded  the 
"booby"  prize,  for  having  made  the  poorest  guesses — a 
dainty  little  pin,  which,  she  said,  quite  lepaid  her  for  her 
stupidity;  while  one  of  the  Brenton  girls,  whose  list  was 
next  best  to  Bronson's,  received  a  pretty  silver- framed 
calendar  as  "  Consolation.'' 

It  made  a  merry  evening,  and  after  the  game  was  over 
they  danced  and  played  other  games  until  it  was  Him-  to 
go  home.  It  waS  eleven  o'clock  w  lieu  the  last  sleigh  drove 
away. 

"Only  an  hour  to  midnight,"  said  Cynthia;  "can't  we 
sit  up  and  see  the  old  year  out?  Do,  papa,  let  us!  We 
never  have,  and  it  must  be  such  fun.  We  couldn't  go  to 
sleep,  anyhow,  after  such  an  exciting  evening." 

Mr.  Franklin  consented,  and  they  sat  about  the  fire  dis- 
cussing the  success  of  the  game  and  the  girls  and  boys 
who  had  been  there,  one  or  two  of  whom  remained  for 
the  night  at  Oakleigh. 

Neal  and  Cynthia  were  alone  for  a  few  moments.  They 
had  goue  out  into  the  hall  to  see  the  hour  by  the  tall 
clock,  and  they  found  the  hands  pointing  to  ten  minutes 
of  twelve. 

"Let  us  wait  here  for  it  to  strike," said  Cynthia,  going 
to  the  window. 

The  lamp  had  gone  out  in  the  hall,  and  it  was  but  dimly 
lighted  from  the  room  where  the  family  vv  e-re  sit  ling,  (.hit- 
side,  the  moon  was  .sinning  on  the  white,  fields  and  fruzen 
river.  The  old  year  was  el}  ing  in  a  flood  of  glory. 

"  I  always  feel  BO  full  of  good  resolutions  on  New -Year's 
F.ve-,"  saiel  Cynthia,  in  alow  voice;  "I  wish  I  could  keep 
them  all." 

••  s.i  do  I,"  returned  Neal.      "  I  am  always  turning  over 
a  new  leaf.     I  must  have  turned  over  three  \  olumes  of  new- 
leaves  by  this  tune.      But  they  don't  amount  In  mu.-h." 
"It  is   discouraging,  isn't   it?      I  have    never  said   any- 


thing about  it,  to  any  one  before.      It  seems  io  me  I  am  al- 
ways breaking  my  g I  resolutions." 

"  I  don't  see  how.  First  of  all,  if.  doesn't,  seem  as  il  • .mi 
did  anything  that  is  wrong— a  girl  doesn't  have  mil.  h 
chance  to." 

"Oil  yes,  she  does.  You  don't  know.  And  I  have-  s.i 
many  faults.  There  are  my  bureau  drawers  I  can'l  ke-,-p 
them  neat,  and  my  clothes  would  be  all  in  tal  ters  if  it  were 
not  for  Edith  and  mamma.  And,  worst  of  all,  tin-re  is  my 
tongue." 

"  Your  tongue  t" 

"  Yes.  It  is  such  fun  to  make  fun  of  people  and  say 
sharp  things  when  I  don't  like  them— the  kind  of  tiling  I 
am  always  saying  to  that  Bronson." 

Xeal  laughed,  and  then  he  sighed. 

"You  are  putting  me  into  a  bad  corner.  If  you  think 
your  faults  are  so  tremendnus.  what  must  you  think  of 
mine  .'  I'm  a  thief  and  a  coward." 

"Neal!" 

"  Yes,  I  am.  I  am  a  thief  because  I  don't  pay  that 
money.  I  had  no  business  to  borrow  it  in  the  first  place. 
and  I  could  save  it  out  of  my  allowance  if  I  would  lake 
the  trouble, but  I  am  too  lazy  :  and  I  am  such  a  coward  I 
won't  ask  Bessie  for  it.  because  I  am  ashamed  to  have  your 
father  know  il.  It's  all  a  nasty  business,  anyway." 
•  He  looked  moodily  out  on  the  snow  ,  drumming  his  lingers 
on  I  lie  window-pane. 

"Neal,"  said  Cynthia,  softly  touching  his  arm  with  her 
hand  as  she  spoke,  "let's  turn  over  one  more  new  leaf.  I 
will  look  out  for  my  tongue  and  my  bureau  drawers,  and 
you  will  tell  mamma  everything  and  start  fivsh.  Will  v  on, 
Neal?  Promise!'' 

Before  he  answered  the  clock  began  to  strike. 

"Happy 'New-Year!  Happy  New-Year!"  was  heard  from 
the  parlor.  "Neal  and  Cynthia,  where  are  yon  ?  Come  in 
here,  that  we  may  all  be  together  when  the  clock  stops 
striking." 

So  the  old  year  died,  and  Neal  had  not  given  the  required 
promise." 

One  day,  shortly  before  he  returned  to  St.  Asaph's,  he  said 
to  his  sister, 

"Hessie,  if  I  had  been  of  age  I  think  1  would  have  tried 
to  break  the  will  of  grandmother's." 

"Oh,  Neal  dear,  don't  say  that!      What  do  you  mean  .'" 

"  Well,  it  isn't  that,  I  mind  your  having  the  money;  yon 
have  always  been  a  brick  about  keeping  me  supplied  :  but 
the  trouble  is,I  need  more  than  yon  give  me." 

"Neal,  I  am  afraid  von  are  spending  too  much."  .said 
Mrs.  Franklin,  looking  at  him  anxiously.  ••  Are  yon  in 
debt  again?  You  know  I  would  love  to  give  you  all  I 
have,  but  your  guardians  and  tin-  trustees  of  t lie  estate  and 
John  all  think  that  you  have  a  very  large'  allowance  for  a 
school-boy,  and  it  would  not  be  a  good  plan  to  let  you  have 
any  more." 

"Bother  them  all!"  exclaimed  Neal.  s.-i/ing  the  poke-l- 
and giving  the  lire  an  angry  thrust.  A  showe-r  e.f  sparks 
tlew  out,  but  he  let  one  burn  a  heile  in  the  rug  withemt 
noticing.  "I'm  tin-el  of  he-ing  tieel  to  voni  apron-siring. 
I've  a  good  mind  to  cut  leiose  alteige-ther." 

"Don't  say  that  I"  e-rie-el  Mrs.  Franklin,  in  distress,  going 
te>  him  and  putting  her  arm  threuigh  his.  He  was  taller 
than  she,  and  she-  had  to  look  up  at  him. 

"If  it  were  only  you.it  would  be  elill'eie-nt,"  e-eintinin-el 
her  brother;  "but  vein  se-e-  .ve.n're-  married  ii"W,  ami  every- 
thing is  dimmed." 

"  But  Jedin  is  t'eniel  of  vein.  Xeal  :  1  kneiw  he  is.  But  he 
knows  all  about  boys, and  his  advie-e-  is  gooel.  Would — 
vveinhl  live  dollars  he-lp  ve.n 

"You're'    a     neeeid     lltlle-    send.    Ilessic,"    saiel     Xral.  leieik  ing 

eleiwn  at  h.-r  alicc ate-ly,  his  monie-nl  ary  ill-hn i    pass- 
ing. "  anil  I  suppose'  it  is  not  \  emr    fault    if  yon   e-an't    give 

any    me. re.       No.  lhank    von:    I    ivon'l    lake    llie-    fiver. 

1  lein'l    weirry  al I    me.       lleic  comes  .laek    m    the-   e-uile-r; 

w  .-'re  geiing  le.  i  he  v  il]a".e>."      And  in  a  menui-nl  he  w  as  oil. 

The  next  day  he'  wi-ni  back  te>  St.  Asaph's. 

The-    winter   passe-el    quiekly   al'ie-r  Christmas    had    • 
ami  geine>.  ami  all  had   sctll.il    ehiwn    again    tei    the-   ivgtilar 
ioiiiiue    of   work.      Mrs.   Franklin    could    not    he-lp    lee-ling 


f  -  r 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


THE    GIRLS    CAME    TRIPPING    DOWN    IN  THEIR    DAINTY    EVENING    DRESSES. 


anxious  about  Neal.  She,  confided  her  fears  to  her  hus- 
liand,  but  he  made  light  of  them. 

"The  boy  only  wanted  more  spending-inouey,  Hester. 
Ke  is  very  extravagant,  and  you  will  be  doing  very  wrong- 
ly if  you  supply  him  with  more  money.  His  allowance  is 
too  large,  at  any  rate,  for  a  boy  of  his  age.  Jack  gets 
along  perfectly  well  with  just  one-fifth  the  amount." 

"  But  Jack  is  different." 

"Very  different,  and  Neal  ought  to  be  different,  too. 
You  paid  his  debts  in  the  fall,  which  were  enormous  for  a 
school-boy,  and  then  he  was  free  to  start  afresh.  You  will 
never  cure  him  of  extravagance  if  you  keep  him  supplied 
with  a.ll  the  money  he  wants.'' 

Mrs.  Franklin  was  forced  to  acknowledge  the  truth  of 
her  husband's  remarks.  She  said  no  more,  though  she  was 
none  the  less  worried. 

C.Mithia  noticed  that  her  step-mother  was  nut  as  light- 
hearted  as  formerly.  They  were  going  in  to  Boston  one 
Saturday  morning  to  do  some  shopping  together.  Cynthia 
had  decided  to  buy  a  watch  with  Aunt  Betsey's  money, 
and  she  had  brought  the  gold  pieces  with  her. 


"I  am  so  afraid  of  losing 
them  I  don't  know  what  to 
do,"  she  said.  "Fifty  dollars 
is  so  enormous,  isn't  it  ?  Please 
take  it  in  your  bag, mamma;  I 
know  I  shall  lose  it." 

Mrs.  Franklin  smiled  absent- 
ly, and  when  she  had  put  away 
the  money  she  looked  out  of  the 
window  again. 

"  Mamma,"  said  Cynthia,  lean- 
ing towards  her,  "you  are  wor- 
ried about  something,  aren't 
you?  Tell  me,  is  it  Neal?" 

Mrs.  Franklin  looked  startled. 
"  I  did  not  know  I  had  such 
a  tell-tale  face,"  she  said.  "  Yes, 
yon  have  guessed  it,  Cynthia.  I 
cannot  help  feeling  worried 
about  him.  I  have*  not  heard 
from  him  for  some  time,  and 
that  makes  me  uneasy.  But  it 
is  just  fancy,  and  will  pass  off. 
Probably  there  will  be  a  letter 
from  him  to-night." 

Cynthia  also  had  remarked 
on  Neal's  silence,  and  this  con- 
tinued her  fears.  She  did  not 
say  anything  more  to  Mrs. Frank- 
lin, however,  for  Neal  had  again 
made  her  promise  to  repeat  no- 
thing he  had  told  her. 

"  I'll  never  confide  in  yon 
again  if  you  tell,"  he  had  said  ; 
so,  of  course,  Cynthia  had  prom- 
ised. 

Her  mind  was  busy  during- 
the  remainder  of  the  trip  to 
Boston,  and  when  the  train  glid- 
ed into  the  station  she  had  de- 
termined to  put  her  thoughts 
into  action. 

"We  will  go  to  Shreve's  and 
then  to  Bigelow's  to  look  at 
watches,"  said  Mrs.  Franklin,  as 
they  walked  across  the  Com- 
mon. "  We  had  better  look  at 
both  places  before  you  decide." 
"I  have  changed  my  mind, 
mamma.  I  don't  think  I  will 
buy  a  watch." 

"Why,  Cynthia!"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Franklin,  almost  stopping 
short  in  her  surprise;  "you 
want  one  so  much  !" 

"No,  I  don't  think  I  do — at 
least  not  just  now.  Let  us 

just  go  buy  the  clothes,  and  I'll  keep  Aunt  Betsey's  money 
a  little  longer." 

She  would  give  no  further  explanation,  and  her  mother 
could  not  induce  her  even  to  glance  at  the  watches  in 
Shreve's  window.  No;  she  had  decided  that  she  did  not 
need  one. 

When  they  reached  home  she  took  the  money  and  went 
to  her  own  room.  She  was  standing  by  the  window,  care- 
fully packing  the  coins  in  a  little  box  with  cotton,  and 
about  to  do  it  up  for  the  mail — for  she  knew  no  better 
way  of  sending  the  money — when  she  heard  the  sound  of 
\\  heels  on  the  drive. 

Looking  out,  she  saw  one  of  the  depot  carriages  ap- 
proaching, and  in  the  vehicle  was  Neal  himself. 

Full  of  apprehension,  dreading  she  knew  not  what, 
Cynthia  dropped  the  box  of  money  and  flew  down 
stairs. 

It  was  not  vacation,  it  was  the  middle  of  the  school- 
term. 

Why  had  Neal  come  home  ? 

[TO   BE   CONTINUED.] 


888 


CORPORAL    FRED, 


A  Story  of  the  Riots. 

BY     CAPTAIN     CHARLES     KING,     U.S.A. 


CHAPTER     VII. 

EVEN  that  drive  of  a  dozen  Mocks  was  full  of  excite- 
ment. As  the  bnggy  whirled  away  from  the  post  of 
the  outermost  sentry,  after  a  brief  impatient  interview, 
the  sergeant  of  the  guard  sang  out  to  the  only  occupant 
whom  he  knew  or  in  whom  he  felt  personal  interest,  "Look 
out  for  'toughs'  down  the  street,  Fred.  A  gang  of 'em's 
just  been  scattered  over  at  the  Amity  Works." 

'•That's  where  we're  hound,"  was  the  answer  shouted 
back  over  the  lowered  buggy  top,  and  then  our  corporal 
tinned  to  his  whilom  "  boss,"  but  now  silent  and  embar- 
rassed convoy.  "Now,  Mr.  Manners,  whether  they  recog- 
nize you  or  not  they'll  see  my  uniform,  and  while  they're 
meek  enough  in  front  of  a  company,  they're  bold  as  a  lion 
against  a  single  militiaman.  Hoist  the  buggy  top.  That'll 
fend  off  rocks  from  the  back  and  sides,  anyhow,  and  if  any- 
body tries  to  stop  us  before  we  get  to  the  works,  whip  up 
and  drive  for  all  you're  worth." 

It  was  good  counsel.  Turning  out  of  the  avenue  with 
its  electric  lamps,  the  buggy  was  spinning  through  a  dimly 
lighted,  unpaved  cross  street.  Knots  of  people  were  still 
hovering  about  the  corners — even  women  and  children. 
Loud,  harsh  voices  were  wrangling  in  a  saloon,  but  for 
three  or  four  blocks  northward  the  buggy  whirled  unmo- 
lested, theu  ahead  could  be  seen  groups  of  uncouth-looking 


men  arguing  under  the  lamp-posts  or  skulking  about  the 
street  corners,  and  presently,  as  Manner's  swil'i  roadster 
came  springing  up  the  st  reel,  ihe  gas-light  fell  one  instant 
on  the  buttons  and  white  chevrons  of  t  lie  corporal's  blon>c. 
A  burst  of  yells  and  taunts  was  the  result  as  they  drove 
h\  the  first  group.  This  drew  the  attention  of  the  others, 
and  redoubled  yells  and  a  crash  of  stones  followed  from 
the  next,  and  presently  the  si  reel  ahead  was  alive  with 
straggling  rioters  running  out  to  head  off  this  lone  vehicle, 
freighted  with  they  knew  not  what,  but  quickly  divined  I" 
be  of  the  hated  "capitalistic  class."  Manners  reached  for 
his  whip  and  lashed  his  spirited  mare  over  the  haunches. 
She  seemed  to  leap  into  air,  amazed  and  indignant,  and 
two  rough  fellows  who  sprang  at  her  head  were  handed 
aside  as  easily  as  an  ironclad  would  burst  through  a  shad 
net.  But  up  the  street  the  crowd  was  thicker.  Only  live 
blocks  away  now,  around  the  second  turn  to  the  right, 
were  the  Amity  Works  and  Fred's  comrades  of  Company 
L,  but  between  them  lurked  some  hundreds  of  the  foiled 
and  furious  mob,  balked  in  their  scheme  of  wrecking  and 
burning  the  laden  ears  and  the  magnificently  inflammable 
plant  of  the  wealthy  corporation,  and  eager  to  revenge 
themselves  either  on  the  owners  or  on  those  who  had  be- 
come its  guardians  and  protectors.  Some  one  recognized 


"STAND    BACK!"   HE    SHOUTED,  "OR    I'LL    FIRE!" 
b89 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


ami  shouted  liis  name.  "Head  'em  off!''  "Stop  'em!" 
"Shout  'em!"  "Kill  the  hlood\  hound-!"  were  the  only 
intelligible  yells,  and  the  gangs  of  "toughs"  and  tramps 
along  the  street  and  among  the  lumber  piles  yelled  mad 
.'cho  to  ihe  cry.  Stones  and  other  missiles  came  whirling 
through  the  night,  some  striking  the  mare  and  redoubling 
lier  wild  speed,  some  clattering  upon  the  buggy  top,  some 
few.  better  aimed,  and  from  the  front,  whiz/ing  into  the 
buggy  itself.  One  of  these  stung  Manners  on  the  cheek, 
just  as  Fred,  bending  low  to  dodge  another,  shouted  to  his 
companion,  "Turn  her  to  the  right — next  street — it's  our 
only  chance." 

Not  a  seeoud  too  soon.  Galloping  now,  the  game  little 
mare  was  hard  to  guide,  but  Manners  stood  np  and  fairly 
dragged  her  around  the  corner,  the  dust  whirling  in  clouds 
from  the  llashing  wheels,  the  buggy  nearly  capsizing  by 
the  sudden  turn.  Here  they  came  face  M  fare  anil  easily 
burst  through  a  little  knot  of  rioters  running  to  join  the, 
crowd  on  the  street  they  had  just  left,  a  yell  of  baffled 
rage  following  them  as  they  went  dashing  away  up  the 
dim,  dusty  lane.  ••Courage!  Only  three  blocks  more  and 
•we're  safe,"  said  Fred,  as  the  manager,  his  grim  mouth  set, 
gripped  hard  at  the  reins  and  strove  to  regain  control. 
But  the  mare  was  mad  with  fear  and  excitement  now,  and 
at  the  very  next  cross  street  swerved  to  the  left,  the  short- 
est line  to  her  stable.  The  buggy  careened,  whirled  against 
I  he  wooden  curb,  and  in  another  instant,  shooting  its  oc- 
cupants across  the  sidewalk,  went  bounding  and  dashing 
up  the  street,  shedding  spokes,  tires,  cushions,  and  springs 
with  every  jump,  and  landing,  a  moment  later,  only  a  dan- 
gling wreck  at  the  heels  of  the  reeking  mare  in  the  hands 
of  Company  L,  still  ranked  in  front  of  the  shops. 

"  It's  Manners's  buggy,"  cried  Sercombe, "  and  he's  spilled 
out  somewhere  np  the  street.  The  mob  have  got  him. 
Save  him  if  it's  a  possible  thing." 

So,  too,  said  the  Captain,  and  forty  men  of  the  ''Back- 
woods Boys, "as  L  was  facetiously  termed  by  the  city  com- 
panies, went  doubling  down  the  dusty  street,  peering  eager- 
ly ahead  through  the  darkness. 

Not  a  moment  too  soon,  either.  Stunned,  bruised,  and 
blinded,  Mr.  Manners  lay  like  a  log  upon  the  wooden  walk  ; 
but  Fred,  light  and  athletic,  had  bounded  to  his  feet,  de- 
spite the  shock,  and  in  an  instant  had  picked  up  his  ritlc 
and  run  to  the  succour  of  his  companion.  With  a  yell  of 
triumph  the  nearest  rioters  came  rushing  down  upon  them 
around  the  corner.  Two  blocks  further  away  the  gas-light 
showed  other  parties  of  excited,  wolflike  men  hastening  in 
pursuit.  The  nearest  were  some  sixty  yards  away,  but  at 
least  a  dozen  of  them,  with  exultant  howls  and  renewed 
cries'  of  "  Kill  'em  !"  '•  Slash  'em!''  "  Lynch 'em  !"  bore  clown 
on  the  luckless  manager  and  his  sole  defender.  Instantly 
Fred  slipped  one  of  the  long  copper  cartridges  in  the  breech 
and  slammed  the  block.  "Stand  back!"  he  shouted,  "or 
I'll  tire!"  Then  as  they  still  rushed  on  lie  quickly  raised 
the  long  brown  Springfield  to  his  shoulder  and  sighted 
square  at  the  foremost  man.  ''Halt,  or  I'll  drop  you  in 
your  tracks!"  and  the  coward  knew  he  meant  it,  and 
crouched  and  dodged,  Availing  for  others  to  reach  him. 
Then  again,  encouraged  by  the  yells  of  those  behind,  on 
they  came,  but  slower,  skulking  close  to  the  fence,  bending 
low,  ducking  and  dancing  to  disconcert  his  aim.  And  then 
the  words  of  his  Colonel  at  the  armory  came  ringing  in  his 
ears,  "  Not  a  shot,  men — not  a  finger  ou  the  trigger  except 
at  the  order  fire!" — and  there  was  none  to  order  here.  Yet 
dauntless  and  determined  there  he  stood,  aud  that  one  gal- 
lant Yankee  boy,  in  whose  veins  the  fighting  blood  of  the 
Highland  clans  was  boiling,  in  the  simple  service  dress  of 
the  National  Guard,  was  just  enough  to  hold  ten  city 
"toughs"  at  bay  one  vital  and  all  -  important  moment,  for 
when,  re-enforced  by  the  coming  of  their  fellows  from  the 
rear,  I  hey  finally  rushed  ou  to  work  their  cowardly  hate  on 
t  he  one  prostrate  man  with  his  sole  defender,  they  were  met 
face  to  face  by  the  charge  of  Company  L,  and  got  the 
hammering  they  so  richly  deserved. 

And  so  morning  dawned  at  last,  on  smoking  yards,  on 
half-burned  shops,  ou  slowly  but  surely  moving  mail  and 
passenger  trains, on  the  glistening  walls  and  windows  of 
the  unharmed  Auiity  Works,  all  stoutly  guarded  by  busi- 


nesslike detachments  of  the  city's  crack  regiment,  and  the 
great  mobs  of  the  previous  day  and  night  were  scattered 
far  anV!  wide.  All  night  police  and  patrol  wagons  had 
been  busily  at  work,  and  drunken  or  still  riotous  characti-i  - 
were  being  gathered  in  and  trundled  to  the  station-houses, 
or  pitched  neck  and  crop  into  some  freight-car  temporarily 
turned  guard-house.  The  Steinmans.  Fivnzels.  and  other 
instigators  had  disappeared.  Just  as  they  had  kept  well 
behind  the  fighting  line  when  the  struggle  was  hottest,  so 
now  were  they  nowhere  to  be  found  when  by  their  deluded 
followers  as  well  as  by  the  police  they  most  were  wanted. 
Stoltz,  too,  had  been  spirited  away,  aud  was  in  hiding  some- 
where among  the  outlying  wards,  but  with  a  crack  in  his 
skull,  said  the  doctor  who  gave  first  aid  to  Ihe  wounded, 
that  would  neutralize  "  the  wheels  in  his  head  "  for  months 
to  come.  This  at  least  was  comfort  to  many,  and  the  Wal- 
laces were  in  sore  n 1  of  comfort,  for  np  to  eight  o'clock 

on  this  second  morning  of  the  strike  not  one  word  had  been 
heard  of  the  loved  husband  and  father.  At  six  the  Colonel 
himself  had  ridden  over  to  the  Amity  Works  with  a  little 
escort,  finding  the  neighborhood  deserted,  aud  only  a  few 
scowling,  skulking  rioters  left.  Taking  Fred  with  him,  he 
had  patrolled  the  streets,  and  then  given  his  anxious  guide 
a  chance  to  visit  his  home.  "Stay  as  long  as  necessary, 
corporal ;  but — I've  heard  about  last  night,  and  shall  want 
\on  later  to-day  after  you've  found  your  father." 

But  when  and  how  were  they  to  find  father  was  the  ques- 
t  ion.  Jim,  under  the  influence  of  opiates,  still  slept  heavily. 
The  policemen  told  oft'  to  search  came  back  crestfallen  to 
say  they  could  hear  nothing  of  the  old  man.  No  one  had 
seen  him  since  he  left  the  shops  the  previous  day.  Anx- 
iety deepened  with  every  minute,  and  at  nine  o'clock  pool- 
Mrs.  Wallace  had  practically  abandoned  hope.  "They've 
murdered  him,"  she  sobbed;  "I  know  they  have.  They 
hated  him  for  standing  by  his  duty." 

And  even  as  she  spoke  there  was  a  stir  and  excitement 
on  the'  street  without.  "  1'olice  patrol  coming!"  said  some 
one,  ami  come  it  did  at  rapid  trot,  but  without  clang  of  bell 
or  warning  cry.  It  reined  up  abruptly  in  front  of  the  little 
cottage,  and  then  there  went  up  a  shout  of  delight,  and 
Mrs.  Wallace,  rushing  from  the  house,  sobbing  anew  in  re- 
lief from  dread  and  sorrow,  seized  and  clasped  her  husband 
in  her  arms  as  with  calm  dignity  lie  stepped  from  the  wagon. 
The  police  seemed  desirous  of  creating  a  pleasant  impres- 
sion. They  were  assiduous  in  their  care  of  Mr.  Wallace. 
They  begged  Mrs.  Wallace  lo  understand  that  he  had  had 
the  best  breakfast  money  could  buy.  There  was  evident 
cause'  of  embarrassment  and  something  to  be  explained  and 
extenuated,  yet  everybody  crowded  around  Wallace,  ami 
nobody  seemed  to  care  to  listen  to  them.  They  hung  about 
as  though  they  wanted  to  shake  hands  with  him,  but  the 
old  foreman  only  very  formally  touched  his  hat  as  he  said 
good-by. 

"Where  have  I  been?  How  did  I  escape?"  ho  finally 
said  in  answer  to  appeals  of  friends  and  neighbors.  "I'\e 
been  spending  the  night  in  jail — with  other  desperate  char- 
acters.  I  escaped  by  being  arrested  —  in  Jim's  coat — as  a 
leader  of  the  riot.  Where's  Jim  ?" 

This  was  actually  the  case.  Too  few  in  number  to  effect 
anything  in  face  of  such  a  mob.  some  police  officers,  scout- 
ing about  their  heels,  had  caught  sudden  sight  of  old 
Wallace  issuing  with  defiant  air  from  the  side  door  of  the 
threatened  shops.  These  officers  were  new  to  that  section 
and  had  never  seen  him  before',  but  his  demeanor,  his  dress, 
his  badge  all  stamped  him  as  a  man  prominent  in  the  out- 
break, and  despite  his  protestations  they  bundled  him  with 
a  load  of  other  prisoners  into  a  patrol  wagon,  and  sent  him 
to  the  main  station  two  miles  away, 
ing  could  he  secure  recognition  and 
man  was  exceeding  wroth,  but  his 
"He'd  have  been  killed,"  said  she, 
jailed." 

But  despite  his  indignation,  old  Wallace  was  on  hand  a 
few  hours  later  when  a  pleasing  little  ceremony  was  enacted 
at  the  Amity  Works.  There  the  "backwoods  boys"  \\ere 
drawn  up  in  line  to  listen  to  some  remarks  of  their  Colonel. 
A  man  of  few  words  was  that  veteran  when  on  duty,  but 
everybody  seemed  to  know  what  was  coming  as  he  halted 


Not  until  this  morn- 
a  hearing.  The  old 
wife  \\  as  thankful. 
•  if  he  hadn't  been 


890 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TA1U.K 


in  front  of  them,  ;incl  Corporal  Fred  brought  bis  rifle-  to  the 
tarry,  stepped  a  tew  paces  forward,  and  stood  there  a  little 
white,  a  little  tremulous  with  emotion. 

"Men  of  Company  L."  the  Colonel  said. '•  you've  done 
soldierly  service — valuable-  service,  one  and  all,  and  sonic 
day  1  hope  you'll  get  the  recognition  you  deserve;  but 
tin-re's  one  of  your  number  who  even  inure  than  the  resl 
deserves  a  word.  "Within  twelve  hours  of  the  call  I'm- duty 
Corporal  Fred  Wallace  has  had  the  conspicuous  honors  of 
being  discharged  from  his  clerkship  for  obeying  the  sum- 
mons, being  knocked  senseless  while  doing  it,  being  the 
guide  of  his  regiment  into  the  thick  of  the  riot,  and  filially 
of  saving  tlie  life,  at  the  risk  of  his  own,  of  the  very  man 
who  discharged  him. 

"It  has  been  your  province  during  the  night  to  convert 
some  few  lioters.  but  il  has  been  his  to  convert  what  is 
termed  'a  soulless  corporal  ion,' and  I  know  you'll  all  be 
glad  to  hear  him  promoted  sergeant  on  the  spot.  80  much 
for  our  side.  Now  we'll  hear  Mr.  Manager  Manners." 

And  amidst  shouts  of  laughter  and  applause  Mr.  Man- 
ners limped  forward  from  a  group  of  stockholders,  while 
tlie  Colonel  heartily  shook  his  \ming  guide  by  the  hand. 
And  behind  Manners  there  loomed  up  in  the  doorway  of  the 
simps  a  goodly  stack  of  luscious  fruit  and  boxes  of  cigars, 
and  it  was  evident  the  company  meant  to  royally  enter- 
tain its  defenders. 

And  Mr.  Manners  was  understood  to  express  himself  sub- 
stantially as  follows: 

"Gentleman  of  Company  L.  If  these,  works  had  been 
destroyed  last  night  half  a  million  dollars  would  have  gone 
up  in  smoke.  We  couldn't  get  insurance  for  more  than 
quarter  of  its  "value.  You  saved  it.  Never  until  last 
night  did  I  know,  or  my  associates,  these-  genl  lemen,  what 
it  meant  to  have  a  National  Guard.  We  thought  it  was 
the  same  thing  as  the  militia  we  used  to  join  and  have  fun 
with  forty  years  ago  when  we  were  young,  and  so  had  de- 
termined to  have  no  more  of  it  in  our  business.  We've 
learned  we  didn't  know  the  first  tiling  about  it.  We're 
clean  converted.  We  lind  that  young  men  nowadays  are 
doing  better  by  themselves,  their  State,  and  their  country 
than  we  did.  Now  I've  got  a  boy  at  home — a  good  boy,  if 
I  do  say  it — who  wanted  to  join  you  three  mouths  ago.  and 
I  wouldn't  let  him,  and  I'm  going  home  this  day  to  beg  his 
pardon,  as  I  beg  yours,  and  tell  him  I'll  be  a  proud  father  if 
he  can  wear  the  uniform  in  the  same  company  with  you 
and  Wallaee  and  Sercombe.  You've  made  Wallace  a  ser- 
geant. Well,  the  Amity  Works  will  stand  by  what  they've 
done,  too.  They  discharged  Mr.  Wallace  from  what  we'll 
call  a  second-class  clerkship  yesterday  afternoon,  and  they 
now  till  the  vacancy  by  the  promotion  thereto  of  his  friend 
Sei  combe  from  the  shops.  They  have  established  another 
first-class  clerkship,  and  to  fill  that  original  vacancy  tliey 
name  Sergeant  Fred  Wallace,  of  Company  L,  and  we'll 
drink  his  health  in  the  best  and  coolest  lemonade  to  be  had 
in  the  whole  State." 

"  Well."  said  old  Wallace,  as  he  sat  later  iu  the  day  with 
tin-  mother's  hand  in  his,  "I  didn't  take  much  stock  in  that 
soldier  Inisine.-s  either.  But  where  would  we  all  have  been 
this  day  but  for  Fred — Fred  and  his  regiment !" 

THE    END. 


HINTS   ON  A  RACING  CAT-BOAT  AND    ITS 
CARE. 


rillUC  popular  idea  that  a  racing  cat-boat  is  an  expensive 
-L  luxury  has  doubtless  arisen  from  the  cost  entailed  upon 
those  who  keep  a  racing  boat,  anil  either  cannot  or  will  not 
themselves  attend  to  the  labor  connected  with  keeping  such 
a  craft  in  the  best  of  condition.  Many  boat-owners  after 
entering  for  a  race  put  their  boats  in  the  hands  of  boat 
builders  to  be  gotten  into  condition  so  abundant  around  riv- 
ers and  bays  where  boat-racing  is  popular.  To  these  men 
are  usually  intrusted,  besides  getting  the  boai  into  condi- 
tion, the  procuring  and  training  of  the  crew,  and  if  the  race 
is  important,  the  command  of  that  too.  Most  likely  tin- 
crew  will  be  composed  of  mermen,  amply  compensated  for 
their  services,  and  an  amateur  or  two,  one  of  which  perhaps 


is  the  owner,  of  course  all  this  costs,  the  builder  having 
to  be  paid  for  his  labor  of  getting  (In-  boat  ready,  and  if  he 
wins  the  race  he  naturally  expects  sc -I  hing  extra. 

There  are  some  owners,  however,  who  attend  to  all  the-, 
matters  personally,  and  then  expenses  an  rednee-d  to  a  v  ei  \ 
low  figure. 

If  a  boy  has  become  the  happy  possessor  of  a   Loal 
is  desirous  of  In-coming  a  good  sailor.  Ilieiv  is  no  reason 
why  he  shouldn't  have  the  pleasure  of  racing  his  I, .,.-,:    . 


IN    WINTER    QUARTERS. 

if  his  supply  of  pocket  money  is  limited,  provided  he  per- 
sonally attends  to  all  the  work  connected  with  his  boat. 
Besides  saving  much  expense,  it  will  serve  to  thoroughly 
acquaint  him  with  every  part  of  his  craft,  a  perfect  idea  of 
her  construction  and  rigging.  If  he  makes  a  point  of  rin- 
ging her  in  the  spring  and  dismantling  her  in  the  fall,  he 
will  know  what  to  do  if  some  part  of  his  ligginj  gives 
way  when  he  is  sailing:  and  not  lie  obliged  to  do  as  the 
owner  of  a  line  boat  on  the  Shrewsbury  b'iver  did  last  vear 
when  the  lashings  of  a  throat-halyard  block  gave  wav. 
lower  sail  and  wait  for  a  friend  to  tow  him  in. 

We  will  suppose  it  to  be  spring  and  the  boat  to  be  in 
winter  quarters  on  shore.  Naturally  it  is  to  be  supposed 
that  after  being  out  of  water  for  some  months  her  scam, 
will  have  opened  considerably.  Do  not  attempt  to  calk 
her  in  this  condition,  for  if  you  should. you  would  run  a  good 
risk  upon  the  boards  swelling  of  badly  warping  the  plank- 
ing. First  of  all.  put  the  boat  in  the  water  and  allow  hei  to 
till,  letting  her  remain  in  this  condition  until  the  plank::i . 
has  swollen  to  the  utmost  ;  then  pull  the  boat  up  on  land 
and  let  her  diy  for  a  day  or  so, so  that  the  paint  will  take. 
If  the  bottom  is  dirty,  take  a  scrubbing  -In  -us],  and  water 
and  thoroughly  clean  it.  After  the  boat  is  dry.  examine 
all  the  seams  carefully,  and  where  the  openings  appear  too 
large  to  be  stopped  with  paint  till  them  with  calking  cotton 
soaked  in  white  lead,  (io  over  all  the  oilier  seams  with 
white  lead,  and  allow  the  whole 'to  dry.  Give  the  bot- 
tom a  good  coat  of  either  copper  or  arsenic  paint,  ami 
paint  the  above  water  body.  After  these  coats  have  dried. 
go  over  the  hull  earefnllv  with  sandpaper,  and  remove  all 
inequalities.  (iive  the  bottom  ami  upper  body  at.- 
coat,  laying  it  smoothly  so  as  to  give  that  tine  gloss  so 
pleasing  to  the  eye  and  so  essential  to  the  raeing  boat. 
Take  up  the  flooring  and  give  the  inside  of  your  hoai 
couide  of  good  coats  of  paint,  devoting  particular  atleinion 
to  the  centreboard  trunk  where  it  .joins  ih<  keelson. 

Examine  the  deck,  particularly  the  joint  with  the  coai g. 

Where  there  are  any  large  openings,  it  the  deck  is  painted, 
calk  them  with  cotton,  if  varnished,  till  them  w  ith  putty. 

If  the  deck  is  a  varnished  one.  remove  all  the  remai. 
last   year's    varnish    with    sandpaper,  ami   give    the    dee  k 
several  coats  of  marine  varnish.      The  deck  should  be  var- 
nished at  le-ast  once  a  month  during  tlie  si  ason  to  keep   it 
in  good  condition.      At  this  time  it  would  be  well  to  1-iing 
v  o  n  r  sail  out  and  lay  il  on  the  ground    in  1  be  sun   so  as  to 
allow  it  to  bleach,  and  give  the  centreboard  a    a 
ing  and  varnishing  or  painting,  as  the  case  mav  be.     Tin 
boat  is  now   ready  to  be  put    in   the  water.      Itring   01 

and  spars,  scrape  w  ith  glass  and  sandpaper,  and  var- 
nish  them.      Now    slep    the    masi.      It    the   boat    is  a  small 
one  it  mav    Lie  lifted   iii  by  hand,  but   if  it    is  a    1.1 
pair  of  .sheai  -   IB  See    sketch.)      Tlu- shears 

consist    ol    two    poles,  about    ball'  tlie    length    of  th- 
bet  t  er  il"  longer),  two  ex  I  re  mi  ties  of  which  are   las' 
gether,  and  the  others  planted   lirmly   in   the  g 


891 


HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE 


METHOD   OF   SCRAPING    BOTTOM. 


whole  being  sup- 
ported at  an  angle 
of  about  45°  by  a 
guy-rope.  At  the 
junction  of  the 
two  poles  lash  one 
of  the  blocks  of 
the  throat  -  hal- 
yards, allowing 
the  other  to  swing 
free.  Attaching 
the  mast  or  any 
other  very  heavy 
weight  to  this 

block  it  may  be  lifted  in  with  ease.  Put  the  gaff  and  boom 
in  place,  and  lace  the  sail  on.  It  will  be  quite  a  time  before 
the  sail  will  stretch  to  its  fullest  extent,  ami  it  will  be 
necessary  to  stretch  it  along  the  gaff  and  boom  after  every 
onting  for  some  time  to  come  or  it  will  not  set  properly. 

A  few  words  here  about  the  care  of  the  sail  may  not  be 
out  of  place.  Novel'  roll  a  sail  np  when  wet.  Nothing 
will  rot  and  mildew  it  more  quickly.  If  yon  are  compelled 
to  [int  the  boat  up  for  the  night  when  the  sail  is  damp,  tic 
a  few  stops  around  it  at  intervals,  and  allow  it  to  hang 
loosely  between  them,  just,  using  a  sufficient  number  to 
prevent  the  sail  from  thrashing  about  in  case  of  a  strong 
wind  during  the  night.  As  soon  as  possible  after  a  rain 
hoist  the  sail  and  let  it  dry.  The  quickest  way  to  dry  a 
sail  is  to  hoist  it  to  the  full  extent  along  the  mast  and  drop 
the  peak,  and  raise  the  boom  quite  high  with  the  toppen 
lift.  This  will  cause  the  sail  to  bag  greatly,  and  the  wind 
shaking  it-  will  soon  dry  the  moisture  out. 

Your  boat  has  been  in  the  water  for  some  time,  and  you 
have  entered  it  for  a  race.  The  first  thing  to  do  in  this 
case  is  to  examine  its  bottom.  This  may  be  effected  by 
selecting  a  shelving  beach,  and  running  your  boat  as  far 
np  as  possible  at  high  water,  having  previously  removed 
all  extra  weights.  Secure  two  guy -ropes  to  the  mast- 
head, ami  drive  stakes  on  each  side  of  the  boat  about  twenty 
feet  off.  Fasten  the  ropes  to  these  stakes,  so  when  the  tide 
goes  out  they  will  hold  the  boat  on  an  even  keel,  and  on 
the  receding  of  the  tide  it  will  be  an  easy  matter  to  ex- 
amine the  under  body  of  the  boat. 

If  the  bottom  is  so  foul  as  to  require  repainting, construct 
ways  and  haul  out,  scraping  and  painting  as  in  the  begin- 


niug  of  the  season.  If  the  bottom  should  need  only  a 
slight  cleaning  and  polishing  slacken  one  of  the  guy-ropes 
so  that  the  boat,  will  rest  on  its  side,  and  scrub  clean  with 
water  and  a  stiff  brush,  polishing  with  cloths.  After  this 
side  is  finished  pull  the  boat  up  to  an  even  keel  and  slack 
away  the  other  rope  so  it  will  rest  on  the  other  side,  thus 
permitting  you  to  get  at  the  rest  of  the  tinder-water  body. 
If  yon  are  so  fortunate  as  to  possess  a  racing-sail  and  spars, 
unship  the  old  ones  and  ship  the  racing-spars  and  sail. 
If  you  have  not, 
your  boat  is 
about  ready.  Re- 
move all  extra 
weights  (except- 
ing ballast),  and 
if  movable  bal- 
last is  permitted 


STEPPING    MAST    WITH    SHEAKS. 


A    FLYING    START. 


take  it  aboard. 
Examine  all  your 
rigging  careful- 
ly, and  do  not 
omit  to  go  over 
it  again  just  be- 
fore starting  in 
the  race.  All 
this  should  be 
finished  the  day  before  the  race. 

Ranking  almost  equal  in  importance  to  the  condition  of 
the  boat  is  the  training  of  the  crew.  The  length  of  time 
required  before  the  race  to  get  the  crew  in  condition  will, 
of  course,  depend  upon  the  knowledge  of  the  individuals. 
If  the  members  have  a  fair  idea  of  their  business  a  few 
hours  before  the  race  will  be  sufficient,  but  if  they  do  not, 
the,  sooner  the  training  commences  the  better.  For  a  racing 
crew  to  be  handy,  every  man  in  it  must  know  his  especial 
part  in  all  the  manoeuvres,  and  when  a  manoeuvre  is  or- 
dered must  do  it  quickly  and  with  the  least  confusion  pos- 
sible, and  not  try  in  an  excess  of  zeal  to  attempt  to  do 
more  than  his  part,  unless  so  ordered.  Above  all,  every 
man  must  obey  implicitly  and  without  question  any  order 
of  the  Captain,  for  no  boat  can  be  handled  properly  by  its 
crew  when  anybody  but  the  Captain  is  permitted  to  give 
orders.  As  to  the  number  of  the  crew,  the  average  cat-boat 
of.  let  us  say,  eighteen  or  twenty  feet  will  require  a  helms- 
man.usually  Captain,  sheet-tender,  centreboard-temler,and 

a  man  to  look  after  the  hal- 
yards. If  your  boat  is  so 
small  as  not  to  have  so 
many  men  allotted  to  it,  the 
centreboard  and  halyards 
may  tie  tended  by  one  man. 
If,  on  the  contrary,  more 
men  than  the  requisite  num- 
ber are  allowed,  take  the  ex- 
tra men,  if  the  day  is  windy, 
as  ballast  only,  or  if  movable 
ballast  is  permitted,  as  shift- 
ers. 

Do  not  divide  the  work 
ii]i  into  small  parcels  and 
give  each  one  a  little  to 
do,  it  creates  too  much  mov- 
ing about  when  under  \\  ay, 
a  thing  not  in  the  least  de- 
sirable. Yon  might,  how- 
ever, have  an  understanding 
\\ith  them  as  to  what  they 
are  to  do  in  an  ciiieigi-ncy, 
such  astakingin  or  shaking 
out  a  reef.  Here  a  slight  di- 
gression on  taking  in  a  reef 
when  under  way  may  be 
pardoned.  When  under  way 
diop  the  sail  so  that  the  de- 
sired reef-points  are  about 
in  a  line  with  the  boom, 
and  when  they  are  in  the 
right  position  let  the  boat 


892 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


come  up  into  the  wind  so  that  tin-  boom 
will  be  inboard.  Then  order  the  crew  to 
spread  along  the  boom,  and  when  the  bow- 
man has  fastened  the  desired  cringle  at 
the  jaws  of  the  boom,  have  them  catch 
hold  of  the  sail,  stretch  it  along  the  boom, 
the  sheet-tender  making  fast  the  cringle 
on  the  leach  (outer  edge)  to  the  boom.  As 
soon  as  this  is  accomplished  tie  the  reef  in. 
When  all  the  reef-points  are  tied,  let  the 
boat's  head  fall  off  and  continue  on  course, 
as  the  peak  and  throat  may  be  properly 
hoisted,  especially  when  you  are  strongly 
manned,  nearly  as  well  tinder  way  as  when 
in  the  wind.  This  operation,  so  long  on 
paper,  may,  with  a  well- trained  crew,  be 
accomplished  almost  in  the  time  it  takes 
to  read  this.  Shaking  out  a  reef  is  a  very 
easy  matter,  and  will  need  no  mention. 
The  whole  aim  in  the  training  of  a  racing 
crew  may  be  summed  up  as  follows:  Ev- 
ery man  to  know  his  part  and  do  it  when 
required.  The  lirst  thing  after  explaining 
clt'arly  to  each  man  his  particular  station 
is  to  get  the  crew  accustomed  to  the  boat. 
A  good  way  to  do  this  is  to  take  a  spin  at 
every  opportunity  with  them  over  the 
course,  making  a  careful  note  yourself  of 
tin1  bearings  of  the  different  marks  by  ob- 
jects on  shore, so  that  yon  will  nut  lose 
valuable  time  in  the  race  in  finding  them. 
Do  not  allow  any  lagging  in  these  spins, 
for  it  is  liable  to  lead  to  a  blunder  in  the 
rare,  luil  maintain  the  same  discipline  as 
you  would  at.  that  time. 

The  hour  of  the  race  is  at  hand.  Your  crew  is  aboard, 
and  after  a  careful  examination  of  the  running-  rigging, 
blocks,  mast-hoops,  sail  and  its  lacings,  you  set  out  for  the 
starting-point.  Arriving  there,  procure  your  racing  num- 
ber, and  after  fastening  it  upon  the  sail,  take  your  boat 
out  and  cruise  around  in  the  vicinity  of  the  starling-line, 
using  this  opportunity  to  practise  yum  cn-w  in  tacking, 
gybing,  and  other  evolutions  likely  to  be  encountered  dur- 
ing a  race.  Upon  hearing  the  preparatory  gun,  it  is  best 
tu  yet  near  the  line.  If  you  feel  confident  that  you  have 
your  boat  well  in  hand,  yon  might  mana'nvre  for  a  Hying 
start,  but  if  you  are  a  little  uncertain,  it  is  best  to  secure  a 
good  position,  and  let  your  sail  flap  in  the  wind  close  as 
the  boat  lies  stationary  close  to  the  line. 

If  the  first  leg  is  close  hauled  or  a  thrash  to  windward, 
it  is  advantageous  to  get  away  as  near  the  front  as 
possible,  as  the  boats  slower  in  starting  usually  get  oil'  in 
a  hunch  and  cut  up  each  other's  wind.  If  the  start  is  off 
the  wind  this  is  not  so  important.  A  Hying  start  is  \er\ 
desirable,  but  it  requires  careful  calculation  and  handling 
to  bring  your  boat  to  the  line  at  the  right  moment;  and 
if  by  some  mistake  you  should  cross  a  few  seconds  before 


RIGHTING    A    CAPSIZED    BOAT. 


FINISHING    BEFORE    THE    WIND. 


the  gun,  yon  would  lose  lots  of  valuable  time  in  recrossiug 
again.  In  a  one-gun  start  the  importance,  of  getting  off 
quickly  is  greater  than  iu  a  two-gnu.  Hang!  goes  the 
starting  gun.  You  are  over  the  line,  close -hauled  must 
likely,  on  the  starboard  tack  (on  account  of  having  right 
of  way).  Do  not  make  the  common  mistake  of  hauling 
\oiir  boom  in  nearly  amidships  and  jamming  your  boat  up 
into  the  wind;  it  will  not.  pay.  It  increases  the  drift,  and 
\oiir  boat  will  not  "foot"  it  as  fast  as  one  that  is  allowed 
a  little  more  leeway.  Again,  do  not  let  your  boat  sag  off 
too  far  or  a  heavy  gust  may  cause  a  "  knockdown."  with 
the  consequent  loss  of  much  ground.  Always  be  ready  to 
luff  and  take  advantage  of  any  little  gnsi  of  wind,  and  it 
is  astonishing  the  amount  of  windward  gain  a  clever  sailor 
makes  iu  this  way.  This  does  not  mean  to  luff  so  much  at 
every  putt  as  to  dump  the  wind  out  of  your  sail,  or  attempt 
to  sail  so  close  to  the  wind  as  not  to  yet  its  full  power. 

The  amount  of  sail  carried  should  be  proportionate  to  the 
wind  ;  it  is  a  great  mistake  to  oversail  a  boat  so  that  it 
w  allows  through  the  seas,  necessitating  luffing  or  dumping 
out  the  wind  in  the  squalls  and  lowering  of  the  peak  when 
running  before  the  wind.  The  angle  of  heel  ai  \\hich 
your  boat  sails  best  can  only  be  determined  by  experi- 
ment, and  it  is  a  great  blunder  lo  carry  sail  so  as  to  heel 
her  to  a  greater  one.  When  sailing  clo.se  hauled  or  to 
windward,  all  obstructions  that  may  catch  the  w  hid  should 

be  placed  below  deck  if  possible,  or  if  it   should   he  

sary  to  have  the  crew  up  to  windward,  let   them   la\ 
to  the  deck.     (See  sketch  of  start.  1 

As  to  the  distribution  of  weight,  aim   to   h:ne    \niir  boat 
sail    on    the,   proper  water-line    at    all  limes:  do  not   allow 
your  crew,  when  bcaliuy  to  windward,  to  pile  all.  so  as  in 
escape  spray,  and  so  lifl  the  how  out, al  t  be  same  timi 
not  get  \ourbow  too  deeply  in.      When  ica.h    to  go   aboiil 
(go  on  other  tack),  gi\  <•  t  he  order  "  hard  a  lee,"  and  '• 
the'  tiller,  the   unbalanced  action   of  the  wind    on    the    sail 
will    bring   the    boat    up   into    the    wind    \\iih    a    sweeping 
curve,  and  then  use  the  rudder  to  put  her  on  the  other  tack. 

hi  this  way  you  will  go   about    ca-il\.  and  will    not    log- 
head wa% .  as  is  I  lie  case  w  hen  t  he  t  iller   is  jammed   OVi 
the  beginning.      Immediate!)    on  heariny  the   uruer  ••  hard 
a   lee,"  the    crew    should    stand    reaih    to   shift    the'    ballast, 
and  as  the  buat  rounds  up  should  chanye  it   rapidly, 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


to  have  it  to  windward  when  tin-  sail  fills  on  the  other 
tack.  A  manoeuvre  of  the  same  character  should  be  ex- 
ecntcd  when  luffing  around  a  mark. 

Always  be  sure  before  going  about  that  you  have  plenty 
of  board  down.  We  will  suppose  that  you  have  lutt'ed 
around  the  lirst  mark,  and  tin-  next  leg  is  a  run  with  the 
wind  at'l  of  abeam.  This  will  not  l>c  particularly  exact- 
in;;,  the  only  points  to  keep  in  mind  being  to  have  your 
u  ater-line  on  pro]>rr  trim,  a  full  sail,  and  a  straight  course. 
The  second  mark  will  have  to  be  gybed  around.  This 
is  a  manienvie  your  crew  cannot  be  too  well  drilled  in. 
(.Jive  yourself  plenty  of  room,  and  do  not  attempt  to  shave 
too  closely.  I  witnessed  last  summer  the  capsizing  of  a 
boat  resulting  from  this  desire. 

The  mark  was  a  buoy  placed  near  a  heavy  stake,  and  the 
helmsman  of  the  boat  wishing  to  make  a  close  shave  steered 
too  near  it,  and  in  passing  fouled  Ins  sheet-rope  oil  the  stake 
bcfoK  gybing;  the  lesulf  was  the  boat  became  unmanage- 
able, and  its  momentum  carrying  it  around  gybed  the  sail 
over,  causing  an  upset.  As  yon  near  the  mark  have  the 
man  forward  stand  by  the  peak-halyard,  ready  to  let  go  if 
anything  happens  wrong.  As  you  arc  about  to  turn,  have 
the  hoard  raised  and  conic  around  with  an  easy  sweep;  but 
not  so  rapidly  that  the  sheet-tender  cannot  haul  all  the 
sheet-rope  in.  The  sheet  should  lie  brought  in  with  a 
steady  pull,  and  allowed  to  run  out  evenly.  If  any  amount 
of  slack  is  given  as  the  sail  goes  over,  the  wind  on  catching 
on  the  other  side,  if  it  does  not  capsize  the  boat  or  carry 
away  something,  will  bring  her  head  up  into  the  wind  with 
such  force  that  it  will  be  some  seconds  before  you  can  over- 
come it  with  the  rudder. 

The  remaining  leg  of  our  course  we  will  suppose  to  lie 
nearly  free.  When  running  this  way  the  board  should  be 
kept  up,  ami  all  the  weight  in  the  boat  aft,  as  a  boat  under 
the  great  pressure  exerted  1>\  the  wind  when  running  this 
way  has  a  tendency  to  dig  its  nose  under.  It  is  not  neces- 
sary for  your  crew  to  lay  down  now,  and  you  may  allow 
them  to  stand  and  stretch  themselves,  as  whatever  wind 
they  will  catch  will  help  the  boat  instead  of  retarding,  as 
in  the  other  cases.  (See  sketch  of  finish.)  The  ouly  thing 
to  be  looked  out  for  when  running  fiee,  or  nearly  so,  is  a 
"goose-wing."  This  ha ppens  when  the  wind  is  so  strong 
as  to  cause  the  boom  to  jump  up  parallel  to  the  mast,  and 
the  sail  wrap  around  it.  If  when  running  before  the  wind 
you  find  your  boom  is  jumping  too  much,  lowering  the  peak 
a  little  will  lessen  the  pressure  on  the  sail,  and  stop  it. 

It  is  impossible  to  prophesy  the  result  of  the  race,  but  I 
can  say  that  it  depends  equally  on  your  boat  and  \om 
management,  with  the  training  of  the  crew  a  close  sec- 
ond. 

A  few  hints  on  how  to  right  a  capsized  boat  may  not  he 
out  of  place  here.  If  you  should  happen  to  be  near  some 
boat  that  has  capsized  you  w  ill,  doubtless,  feel  it  your 

duty  to  assist  the 
unfortunate.  It  is 
not  a  difficult  mat- 
ter to  right  a  boat 
when  yon  go  about 
n  in  the  proper 
way.  Kun  your 
boat  alongside  of 
the  capsized  one's 
mast  and  strip  ils 
sail  oft',  unfastening 
the  throat  and  peak 
blocks,  nnrecN  mi; 
the  sheet-rope,  and 
cuttiugtuelashings 
of  the  sail  to  the 
mast  -  hoops.  (15e 
careful  that  the  sail 

does  no  sink.)  Put  your  boat  iu  a  position  alongside  the 
bottom  of  the  upturned  boat,  and  unfasten  your  throat-hal- 
yard block  from  the  gatl'.  Fasten  this  to  the  mast  of  the 
capsi/ed  boat,  as  shown  In  sketch.  It  will  then  be  an  easj 
mattei' to  pull  the  boat  up  to  an  even  keel,  when  she  may  be 
pumped  out. 

\Ye  will  suppose  the  autumn  to  have  arrived,  and  you 


PEAK    LOWERED    TO    AVOID 
'•GOOSK-WI.M.;  " 


are  ready  to  put  your  boat  in  winter  quarters.  After  re- 
moving ballast,  mast,  sail,  spars,  etc.,  construct  ways  as 
shown  in  the  sketch  of  w  inter  quarters.  They  consist 
principally  of  two  skids,  ou  which  the  boat  is  run  and  hauled 
out,  but  if  you  care  for  the  condition  of  the  boat's  bottom, 
a  cradle  .had  better  be  made  following  the  idea  shown  in 
sketch.  Pull  the  boat  out  to  the  end  of  the  skids,  and  if  it 
is  desirable  to  get  it  farther  away  from  the  water,  lay 
beams  in  front  of  the  skids  and  pull  the  boat  on  them. 
When  free  of  the  skids  take  them  up  and  lay  them  in  front 
of  the  beams, repeating  this  operation  until  the  boat  is  at 
the  distance  desired.  After  removing  everything,  cover  the 
deck  and  cockpit  w  ith  canvas.  The  sail  should  be  sprinkled 
with  salt  and  a  little  lime,  not  too  much  or  it  will  cause 
rotting,  the  lime  being  used  to  bleach  the  sail  only.  This 
should  be  rolled  up  and  [lacked  away  iu  a  dry  place,  and 
the  mast  and  spars  should  also  be  under  shekel,  but  not 
where  there  is  too  great  heat. 

We  have  lollowed  the  fortunes  of  our  boat  from  the  be- 
ginning of  the  season  until  the  end.  Unfortunately  the 
limited  space  ot  this  article  compels  the  mere  mention  of 
some  points  on  which  whole  volumes  could  be  written. 
Il  is  only  the  purpose  of  this  paper  to  treat  this  subject 
in  the  broadest  fashion,  and  to  give  only  general  hints 
for  the  use  of  the  beginner  in  one  of  the  most  manly  of 
sports.  prni.EY  D.  F.  PAHKEK. 


PUDDING 
STICK 


Tills  Department  iscondncted  in  tile  interest  of  Girls  and  Yonn?  Women,  tinrl  tni.  K.m..r»ill 
!».•  |>[. M-.'. I  t'i  miiwfi  a  iv  ijiiesu'iu  on  Hie  suliji-i't  so  fur  its  possible.  Correspondents  snouM 
li.Mir:..  I-Mil-r. 

IHEAKD  a  girl  spoken  of  the  other  day  by  one  of  her 
friends  as  a  perfect  candy  fiend.  It  made  me  laugh, 
because  I  knew  the  girl  in  question,  and  I  had  never  ob- 
served anything  fiendish  or  malevolent  about  her.  How- 
ever, it  is  so  much  the  fashion  for  girls  to  use  sweeping 
expressions,  that  I  am  never  a  bit  surprised  when  I  hear 
••awful,''  "dreadful,"  "horrible,"  "terrible."  and  other 
strong  words  of  that  kind  used  without  much  reference  to 
their  exact  meaning.  I  suppose  the  young  girl  described 
so  alarmingly  is  very  fond  of  candy,  for  which  nobody  can 
blame  her;  not  I,  certainly,  especially  if  it  be  home-made. 
Hut  I  will  imagine  that  each  of  my  girls  has  an  allowance, 
so  much  given  her  a  week  to  spend  as  she/  pleases.  What 
proportion  of  this  should  she  devote  merely  to  gratifying 
her  taste  for  sweet  things?  Do  yon  not  think  it  rather 
foolish  to  spend  so  much  on  bonbons,  caramels,  and  creams, 
that  a  girl  has  nothing  left  when  she  wishes  to  help  clothe 
a  poor  family  whose  house  has  been  burned  over  their 
heads,  to  buy  a  pretty  framed  photograph  for  her  room, 
or  to  make  a  Christmas  present  for  her  mother  or  dear 
friend  ? 

IT  is  quite  time,  by-the-w  ay,  for  us  to  begin  the  consider- 
ation of  our  Christmas  presents  in  these  bright  days  of  late 
summer.  By  giving  a  little  thought  and  time  to  the  mat- 
ter, paying  attention  to  small  wishes  and  wants  which  ale 
spoken  of  in  the  family,  we  can  often  give  our  friends  and 
ourselves  much  more  pleasure  than  can  be  done  when  e\  er\  - 
thing  is  left  to  the  hurry  of  the  last  few  weeks  of  the  \  ear. 

I  heard  a  lady  say  the  other  evening,  "I  have  at  least  six 
•;irl  friends  who  knit  beautifully,  and  I  do  wish  one  of  them 
would    make    me    a    fascinator.''     "And   pray   what   may  a 
fascinator  be  .'"said  I.      Ami  I  learned  that  it  was  simply  a 
beautiful  tleecy  thing  to  wear  upon  the  head  in  the  evening. 

II  used  to  be  called  a  "  cloud''  when  I  was  a  girl ;  and  in  my 
girlish   days   I   always  kept  one   on   hand  to    use   up  odd 
moments.      It   is   pretty,  dainty   work.      Bedroom  slippers. 
crocheted  and  made  up  over  lamb's-wool  soles,  are  welcome 
gifts  to  receive,  and  not  hard  to  make.      Jlay  I  add  that  a 
present  is  much  more  likely  to  give  satisfaction  to  the  re- 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TAIJLE 


fastened  on  the  cover  ..fit  one  dewy,  long-stemmed  rose. 


broke    into   joyous    brays.       Afterward    the\    ran    aioumi. 


\  11  ii  .,  '"       J'-V   "l  •  '  I  <l   \   .-»,  Jlll»lUill'lllH\I,(ll;tl 

A  caudle  and  candle-stick  is  a  graceful  and  useful  present.      jumped,  kicked,  and  rolled  on    the  grass  as  if  mad. 

11)11      K  1H  )  \Y      I   M  M  I.     (111O     <^ll  f  til      I  I       'lln-.n-c.      ]>  n  i-r.      „       I,,,.! ...     11_  1       1  •        I      .  ,-     n 


You  know 
ni 


The 


that  one  should  always  have  a  bedroom  caudle      delight  of  freedom,  the  sun,  and  the  pure  air  were  more  to 
It   is  a  comfort  to  have  it  standing  on  a  little      them   than   the   food   tliey  refused    to  eaf   when   it  was  put 
table  near  the  bed  with  a  supply  of  matches.     One  never      before  them. 
need  then  be  in  the  dark  a  moment  if  a,  light  happen  to  be 
necessary.     I  saw-  a  very  quaint  and  charming  caudle-stick 
the  other  day.      It  was  in  the  shape  of  a  monk  with  a  cowl 
and  robe,  and  he  was  patiently  holding  up  a  long  crimson 
candle.      Candles  may  lie  had  in  many  colors,  some  of  them 
very   ornamental,  and  candle-sticks   come    in   china,  silver, 
and  bronze,  and  sometimes  very  pretty  ones  in  tin,  though 
I  do  not  recommend   \ou   to  give  a  fin  candle-stick  as  a 
present  if  you  can  afford  one  in  another  material. 


ON    BOARD    THE    AKK. 

I!  V    A  Li;  KKT    I,  EE. 

<•  II  A  I-T  i:  i:    v. 
OMMY  and    the   ex-Pirate   and   the  Gopher  remained 


quietly  perched  on  the  rafter  for  some  minutes  afler 
the  big  Ark  hail  begun  to  move;  but  when  they  found  that 
none  of  the  animals  nut  iced  them,  -i  nee  all  seemed  so  husv 


PRESENTS  of  one's  own  work  are  always  very  much  ap-      attending  to  their  own    affairs,  they    slid 


predated,  and  there  are  many  beautiful  things  in  linen, 
such  as  doilies,  centre-pieces,  and  the  like,  which  are  wel- 
come additions  to  your  mother's  table,  so  that  yon  cannot 
go  wrong  in  choosing  something  in  linen  to  embroider  for 
her.  A  set  of  towels  with  a  monogram  in  the  corner  makes 
a  very  tasteful  gift,  and  I  can  imagine  nothing  lovelier 
than  for  a  family  of  girls,  or  a  class,  to  embroider  a  bed- 
spread for  a  mother  or  teacher.  This,  of  course,  would  be  a 
large  undertaking,  and  should  be  begun  many  months  be- 
fore the  time  it  is  wanted, and  you  would  have  great  fun 
in  keeping  the  affair  a  secret.  I  saw  a  very  beautiful  bed- 
spread some  weeks  ago  at  a  house  where  I  was  a  guest. 
The  lady  who  is  making  it  has  been  engaged  on  it  for  years, 
and  il  is  very  elaborate — cream-colored  linen  of  the  finest 
texture,  covered  all  over  with  beautiful  vines  and  flowers. 
She  has  worked  always  from  the  flowers  themselves,  copy- 
ing them  faithfully  in  shape  and  tint. 

WIIKX  you  are  writing  to  me  it  would  be  very  pleasant 
to  have  you  tell  me  of  beautiful  Christmas  gifts  yon  intend 
to  make.  A  girl  in  Maine  might  have  a  suggestion  which 
would  be  acted  upon  by  a  girl  in  Nebraska.  I  will  be  ex- 
tremely pleased  to  be  the  medium  through  which  girls 
both  North  and  South  may  give  each  other  happy  thoughts 
and  charming  suggestions  about  presents  which  are  to  be 
made  for  the  next  Christmas  holidays.  May  I  quote  a  bit 
from  your  letter,  dear  Tillie  T.?  It  may  give  some  of  the 
girls  an  idea  on  which  they  may  like  to  act.  Tillie  says: 
"With  the  help  of  two  of  my  friends  I  am  making  a  hospi- 
tal box.  Can  you  tell  me  some  children's  hospital  to  send 
it  to?  And  is  it  a  very  childish  thing  to  do?  For  we 
really  enjoy  making  the  things,  as  well  as  thinking  of  the 
pleasure  they  will  "jve  the  children  later.  We  have  made 
cambric  scrap  -  leaves,  paper  dolls  with  dresses  of  tissue- 
paper,  a  menagerie  and  circus  of  paper  animals,  and  over 
Sixty  colored  paper  dolls- -the  sort  which  have  dresses  to 
come  off." 

PERHAPS  somebody  can  suggest  an  addition  to  Tillie's 
already  generous  list.  St.  Mary's  Free  Hospital  for  Chil- 
dren. West  Thirty-fourth  Street.  New  York  city,  will  be 
very  glad  to  receive  any  gifts  which  our  readers  would  like 
to  send  to  it. 


Tin;  poor  patient  mules  that  drag  the  tram-cars  far  down 
in  the  mines  rarely  enjoy  the  light  of  day.  Sometimes 
intervals  of  years  pass  before  they  are  brought  to  the  sur- 
face, and  far  below  in  the  dense  darkness  of  the  mines  they 
toil  from  mouth  to  mouth,  seeing  no  light  other  than  that 
of  the  miners'  flickering  lamps. 

Recently  some  mules  that  had  for  a  number  of  years 
hauled  the  trams  in  the  lower  tunnel  of  a  coal-mine  were 
brought  to  the  surface.  The  strong  li^ht  of  the  sun  dazzled 


ig  I  he  beam 

until  they  could  look  out  into  the  main  room  and  see  what. 
was  going  on.  That  is.  Tommy  and  the  ex-Pirate  slid 
along,  but  the  Gopher  remained  where  he  was,  apparently 
sound  asleep. 

"What  do  you  suppose  they  will  do  next  ?"  asked  the 
little  boy. 

"Fight  or  eat,  I  guess,"  answered  the  ex-Pirate.  "All 
animals  fight  or  eat." 

"I  don't  think  I  should  like  to  see  them  fight," continued 
Tommy.  And  then  he  added.  "Don't  you  think  it  is  getting 
dark  in  here  ?" 

"Very  much  so,"  said  the  ex-Pirate,  looking  about.  "  I 
suppose  they  will  light  up  pretty  soon.  It's  alwa.\s  dark 
on  a  rainy  day,  you  know." 

"What  kind  of  lights  do  you  suppose  they  will  have  .'" 

"Ark -lights,  of  course,"  said  the  ex -Pirate.  "What 
other  kind  would  you  expect  on  a  boat  of  this  kind  '!  Did 
you  suppose  the  two  Tapirs  would  be  bright  enough  ?  If 
you  had  ever  had  any  dealings  with  a  Tapir  you  would 
know  what  a  stupid  beast  he  is.  Don't  you  remember  my 
classic  about  him  : 

"Said   the   Monkey  to  [lie  Tapir, 

One  Sunday  afternoon, 
'Won't  you  ler  me  have  some  paper,  etc.,  etc.  ... 

The  Tapir  sold  writing-paper,  you  see.  But  he  was  too 
stupid  to  get  along  in  the  business.  That's  why  it  is  called 
a  stationary  business." 

Tommy  was  about  to  answer — he  hardly  knew  what — 
when  a  bump  and  a  squeal  interrupted  the  conversation. 
The  sleeping  Gopher  had  fallen  off' the  rafter.  This  acci- 
dent might  have  caused  a  good  deal  of  trouble  if  a  i;n  at 
hubbub  had  not  started  at  the  other  end  of  the  room  at  tin- 
same  moment.  There  were  squeals  and  howls  ami  yelps, 
as  if  one  was  being  killed.  In  the  rush  and  confusion  the 
liopher  mixed  with  the  crowd,  and  Tommy  could  only  oc- 
casionally catch  a  glimpse  of  his  pink  sun-bonnet  bobbin^ 
up  now  and  then  in  the  swarui  that  was  struggling  in  the 
distance. 

"I  wonder  what  has  happened  .'"  said  the  little  boy. 
leaning  as  far  forward  as  he  dared. 

"First  light,  I  guess,"  muttered  the  ex-Pirate  "  lint  I 
think  we  had  better  stay  up  here  and  wait  till  it's  all 
over." 

"I  guess  we  had,"  assented  Tommy.  But  they  did  not 
have  to  wait  very  long,  for  the  Gopher  so ame  scurry- 
ing back  and  climbed  quickly  up  beside  them. 

"  Goodness!      Goodness  me  '."  he  cried. 

••  What's  the  matter  '"  asked  I  he  ex- Pi  rate,  eagerly. 

"The  Dachshund  was  phnin".  lag  with  a  Chinese  Pim. 
and  he  fell  through  the  trap-door." 

"Oh,  my  !"  exclaimed  Tommy. 

"  You  ought  to  see  him,"  pursued  I  he  Gopher.  "  He  fell 
all  the  way  dowu  to  the  hold,  and  his  legs  are  jammed 
away  up  into  his  body  and  twisted  all  out  of  shape,  flux  're 
only  about  three  inches  long  now. and  even  the  Klephant 
could  not  pull  them  out  straight.  lie  is  disli-nicd  for  all 
time." 


895 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


•LET'S    ORGANIZE!  . 


WHAT    IS    LIFE    WITHOUT    ORGANIZATION? 


"Can't  any  one  help  liini  '!"  asked  the  ex-Pirate. 

"He  won't  let  any  one.  The  Duck,  who  was  educated 
in  divers  practices,  offered  his  services  as  doctor,  but  the 
Dachshund  would  not  have  him.  Said  he  was  a  quack." 
There  was  a  brief  silence  ;  then  the  Gopher  added:  "They 
are  trying  to  find  out  who  opened  the  trap-door,  and  so  I 
ran  away.  I  came  in  that  way;  but  I'm  sure  I  shut  the 
trap  after  me." 

"We  came  in  that  way  too," said  the  ex-Pirate. 

"  Yes,  and  I  came  np  tirst,"  put  in  T my.  "  Yon  were 

last  up.  Did  you  shut  the  door?" 

"I  guess  I  did  not,"  admitted  the  ex-Pirate.  "But  it 
was  the  Sheep's  fault ;  he  put  it  out  of  my  mind." 

By  this  time  the  excitement  had  abated,  and  the  animals 
were  scattered  in  groups  again.  The  Dachshund  went 
waddling  about  the  floor  on  his  short  crooked  legs,  to  the 
great  amusement  of  the  Storks  and  Cranes,  who  still  had 
long  straight  legs,  and  Tommy  said, 

"  Well,  I  never  knew  before  how  it  happened  that  those 
dogs  had  such  funny  legs."  But  the  Gopher  said  nothing, 
and  still  trembled  for  fear  some  one  would  find  out  he  had 
come  in  through  the  trap. 

The  wind  was  blowing  fiercely  outside,  and  as  it  howled 
around  the  corners  and  under  the  eaves  of  the  Ark  it 
sounded  notes  like  those  of  an  ^Eolian  harp. 

"  Music,  isn't  it?"  remarked  Tommy.  "It  sounds  like  a 
fiddle." 

The  ex-Pirate  almost  jumped  oft"  the  rafter. 

"  Fiddle!"  he  exclaimed.  "  Who  said  fiddle?  Is  there  a 
fiddle  on  board  ?  If  there  is,  I'm  going  to  jump  !" 

'•  1  did  not  say  there  was  a  fiddle  on  board,"  remonstrated 
Tommy.  "I  said  it  sounded  like  a  fiddle." 

"Oh!" 

"  What  are  you  so  afraid  of  a  fiddler  for?" 

"If  I  tell  you  yon  will  easily  understand,"  answered  the 
ex-1'iratc,  with  a  deep  sigh. 

••  \Vell,  tell  us.     Is  it  interesting?" 

"Yes,  and  I  can  give  it  to  you  in  rhyme.  Will  you 
have  it  in  four  verses  or  in  six  ?" 

"I  gness  four  will  do,"  answered  the  little  boy,  and  lie 
leaned  over  and  pulled  the  Gopher  up  closer.  "  Come  and 
hear  the  poetry,"  he  said. 

The  ex-Pirate  turned  toward  his  audience  on  the  rafter, 
and  recited: 


"There  once  was  a  fiddler 
whose  name  was 
MePhee, 

And  he  fiddled,  he  fiddled, 
did  lie. 

He  fiddled  so  loud  and  lie 
fiddled  so  long 

That  the  neighbors  all 
thought  there  must  be 
something  wrong 

With  this  fearful  old  fel- 
low, this  fiddler  Me- 
Phee, 

For  he  fiddled,  he  fiddled, 
did  he. 

"So  one  day  the  neighbors 
all  went  up  to  see 

What  the  cause  of  this  un- 
ceasing fiddling  could 
be. 

They  appointed  committees 
to  go  in  and  speak 

In  behalf  of  them  all  to 
this  fiddling  freak, 

Who  had  fiddled  all  day  and 
all  night  for  a  week  ; 

But  their  efforts  all  failed 
with  this  frightful 
McPliee, 

Who  fi  Idled  for  fun,  he 
fiddled,  did  he. 


"  The  first  man  to  face  the 

tiddler  MePhee 
Was  a  fat  little  fellow,  who 

said,  '  Sir,'  said  he, 

'  You  fiddle  all  night  and  you  fiddle  all  day, 
You  fiddle  and  fiddle  your  whole  time  away; 
Won't  you  tell  us  the  reason   why  all  this  should  be?' 
But  the  fiddler  still  fiddled,  he  fiddled,  did  he. 

"But  finally,  while  fiddling,  he  said,  'Sir,'  said  he, 
'You  will  greatly  oblige  me  by  letting  me  be; 
All  your  fussing  and   fretting  and  fuming,'  said  he, 
'Is  nothing  at  all — it's  fiddledidee  !' 
So  he  kept  on  a  fiddling,  this  fellow  MePhee, 
And  he  fiddled,  and  fiddled,  and  fiddled,  did   he. 

"And  I  was  one  of  the  neighbors,"  added  the  ex-Pirate. 

"And  did  not  Mr.  Mcl'hec  stop  .'"  a.sked  Tommy. 

"No.  We  all  had  to  move.  He  had  a  ninety-nine  years' 
lease." 

"  I  don't  blame  yon,"  said  the  Gopher. 

The  ex-Pirate  was  about  to  propose  reciting  four  more 
verses  when  there  occurred  another  commotion,  and  the 
Hippopotamus  stood  up  on  bis  awkward  hind  legs  and 
shouted  : 

"  Let's  organize!  We  ought  to  organize  !  What  is  life 
without  organization  ?  I  move  we  elect  a  president — 

But  before  he  could  express  his  views  any  further  the 
Lion  walked  up  to  him  and  buffeted  him  with  his  paw, 
and  growled: 

"  Sit  down  !  If  there  is  any  organizing  to  be  done,  /  will 
do  it.  I  want  yon  to  understand  that  I  am  the  King  of 
Beasts,  and  we  won't  have  any  presidents  this  trip." 

Whereupon  the  poor  old  Hippopotamus  rubbed  his  sore 
jowls,  and  waddled  slowly  off  to  another  part  of  the  room. 
Then  the  Lion  got  up  on  a  big  chair,  with  the  Lioness 
at  his  side,  and  made  a  speech.  Tommy  and  the  ex-Pirate 
could  not  hear  what  he  said,  because  they  were  so  far 
away  :  but  the  animals  all  seemed  very  attentive  and  much 
pleased,  for  they  continually  nodded  their  heads,  and  at  the 
close  of  the  oration  the  Gopher,  who  in  some  manner  had 
managed  to  catch  every  word,  waved  his  sun-bonnet  in  the 
air  and  cried  : 

•'  Hooray  !     We're  going  to  eat  !" 

"I  told  you  so,"  whispered  the  ex-Pirate;  and  then  he 
suggested  to  Tommy  that  they  go  down  to  the  floor  and 
mingle  with  the  animals,  and  try  to  find  the  Sheep,  so  as 
to  have  a  chance  at  the  meal,  if  that  were  possible. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


896 


u 


JKINTERSCHOI£\STIG 


T^HE  LAWN-TENNIS  TOURNAMENT  for  the  Interscholastic 
championship  of  the  United  States  was  finished  at  New- 
port last  week,  first  honors  being  carried  off  by  Leonard  E. 
Ware,  of  the  Roxlinry  Latin  School,  Boston,  Mass.  Ware  is, 
beyond  doubt,  the  best  man  of  the  four  players  who  came 
to  represent  the  schools,  and  he  proved,  both  by  his  play  in 
the  two  iuterscholastic  matches  and  by  the  work  he  has  done 
on  various  courts  this  summer,  that  he  has  unquestionably 
the  .strongest  claim  to  the  title  of  interscholastic  champion. 
He  defeated  both  Beaman  and  Sheldon  without  any  trou- 
ble, the  latter  being  the  stronger  rival,  and  standing  for  the 
full  five  sets.  In  the  first  match  Beatnan  took  the  first 
set  from  Ware,  but  after  that  the  latter  warmed  up  and  had 
everything  his  own  way.  Sheldon's  contest  with  Waltz 
was  a  walk-over  for  the  Hotchkiss  School  player,  as  the 
score  will  show.  The  summaries  follow: 


L.  E.  Ware, 
M.  G.  Beaman, 


Ware,  3-6,  6-2,  6-4,  6-3. 


J.  P.  Sheldon,  Jan.,  I  HHoi,i,,,,  01   a  o  «  1 
C  F  Wultz  t"  oneluou,  b-1,  o-2,  o-l. 


Ware,  6-4,  2-6,  7-5,  6-8,  6-1. 


THE  BEST  PLAYING  WARE  DID  during  the  entire  period 
of  the  tournament  at  Newport  was  in  his  match  with  Foote 
of  Yale,  whom  he  met  in  the  third  round.  Foote  won — 
4-6,  6-4,  6-0,  8-10,  8-6 — but  it  was  a  hard-earned  victory, 
and  gave  the  spectators  some  of  the  best  tennis  to 
watch  that  the  tournament  afforded.  WTare  will  undoubt- 
edly rank  as  one  of  the  leading  players  of  the  country  next 
year,  and  I  count  on  him  to  hold  the  national  champion- 
ship before  he  gets  out  of  college.  His  strongest  quality 
seems  to  be  steadiness,  and  in  addition  to  this  he  possesses 
determination  and  sand. 

WAI:K  WON  ins  FIRST  SET  against  Foote  by  good  lobbing 
and  clever  side-line  strokes.  His  back-hand  strokes  along 
the  side-lines  were  especially  fine.  In  the  first  game  of  the 
second  set  deuce  was  called  three  times  before  Foote  got 
the  score,  and  several  times  afterwards  there  were  equally 
exciting  moments.  The  third  set  was  a  love,  one  for  the 
Yale  man.  He  defeated  Ware  by  playing  a  lobbing  game 
whenever  he  could.  The  latter  was  especially  weak  in 
placing  his  smashes,  most  of  them  being  returned  within 


Foote's  easy  reach.     This  is,  no  doubt,  Ware's  weak  point, 
for  it  was  mainly  by  this  that  he  lost  the  set. 

THE  FOURTH  SET  was  the  most  sensational  of  (he  live. 
and  it  was  here  that  the  scholast  ic.  player  showed  the  pluck 
that  was  in  him.  In  the  first  game  he  placed  prettily, 
winning  at  fifteen,  and  he  scored  again  in  tin-  second  by 
the  same  tactics,  and  in  the  third  by  wonderful  side-line 
work.  Exciting  rallies  were  the  features  of  the  next  two 
games,  in  the  latter  Ware  bringing  the  score  from  love  forty 
up  to  deuce;  but  after  deuce  was  called  four  times  Foote 
scored,  mainly  through  his  persistent  lobbing.  Perhaps 
the  best  tennis  of  all  was  shown  in  the  tenth  game,  when 
applause  by  the  spectators  was  almost  continuous.  Ware 
won  it,  although  Foote  had  him  40-lf>,  and  was  within  one 
point  of  the  match.  Losing  that  point  gave  him  another 
set  to  play.  Eighteen  games  were  required  to  decide  this 
set,  which  was  the  longest  and,  beyond  a  doubt,  one  of  the 
most  exciting  of  the  tournament. 

TUB  FIFTH  SET  consumed  one  solid  hour  of  play,  and 
went  to  Foote — 8-6.  As  in  the  former  sets,  Ware  gave  a 
great  exhibition  of  pluck,  and  with  the  score  2-4  against 
.  him,  tied  the  figures.  It  was  then  nip  and  tuck  until  each 
man  had  secured  five  games.  At  a  critical  point,  however, 
and  one  which  probably  would  have  altered  the  result  con- 
siderably, Ware  was  unfortunate  in  getting  an  obviously 
poor  decision  from  one  of  the  linesmen.  The  whole  set 
was  largely  a  question  of  endurance  rather  than  of  profi- 
ciency, and  in  this  the  older  and  stronger  player  natural- 
ly excelled. 

THIS  DEPARTMENT  HAS  BEEN  QUESTIONED  a  number  ..t' 
times  as  to  how  the  racing  length  of  a  yacht  is  determined. 
As  the  International  Cup  races  are  interesting  every  sports- 
man just  now,  and  as  the  ROUND  TABLE  this  week  gives  mi 
another  page  an  article  descriptive  of  cat-boat-racing,  this 
seems  a  particularly  apt  time  to  devote  a  few  paragraphs 
to  this  very  complicated  feature  of  yachting.  We  all  know, 
of  course,  that  upon  the  difference  between  the  r;i<  nm 
lengths  of  two  yachts  depends  the  time  allowance  whirh 


THE   NEWPORT   TENNIS    COURTS. 
897 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


one  boat  must  allow  the  other  in  a  contest  of  speed.  This 
length  is  obtained  by  adding  the  square  root  of  the  sail 
area  to  the  length  of  the  load  water-line,  and  dividing  the 
result  by  two.  The  quotient  is  the  racing  length. 

THE  LOAD  WATER-LINE,  which  is  the  distance  between 
the  points  of  the  bow  and  stern,  exclusive  of  the  rudder- 
]>o-i.is  ascertained  as  follows:  Strip  the  yacht  of  every- 
thing except  what  she  will  carry  in  the  race,  and  assemble 
amidships  the  crew  which  is  to  man  her.  Then  drop  a 
plumb-line  from  her  bow  to  the  water,  and  measure  accu- 
rately the  distance  between  the  point  where  the  line 
strikes  the  water  and  the  intersection  of  the  forefoot  with 
the  water.  Repeat  the  same  operation  at  the  stern.  Then 
mark  oft'  these  distances  on  the  deck,  the  first  being  mea- 
sured back  from  the  bow,  and  the  second  forward  from  the 
stern.  The  distance  between  these  two  points  is  the  length 
of  the  load  water-line  of  the  yacht.  It  is  measured  oil  the 
deck,  because  the  rounding  of  the  hull,  of  course,  makes  it 
impossible  to  get  a  straight  line  from  bow  to  stern  on  the 
water. 

To  GET  THE  CORRECT  SAIL  AREA  requires  more  labor.  It 
is  determined  by  the  dimensions  of  the  spars  and  those  of 
the  jib-topsail  stay.  If  it  were  not  for  the  length  of  the 
gaft' a  triangle  would  be  formed  by  the  base-line,  the  stay 
and  the  leach  of  the  topsail  and  mainsail.  Then  the  area 
could  be  easily  calculated.  But  the  projection  of  tin/  gait 
spoils  the  triangle,  and  so  the  first  thing  to  do  is  to  measure 
the  distance  from  the  end  of  the  boom  to  the  forward  side 
of  the  mast.  From  that  point  measure  to  a  point  on  the 
bowsprit  half-way  between  the  jib-stay  and  the  jib-topsail 
stay.  These,  added  together,  give  the  actual  base-line. 
Then  take  the  height  of  the  mast  and  the  height  of  the 
topmast.  "The  length  of  the  gaft'  is  next  ascertained,  and 
from  this  is  subtracted  eight-tenths  of  the  height  of  the 
topmast.  The  difference  between  these  is  added  to  the 
actual  base-line,  the  result  giving  the  corrected  base-line. 

EXPERIENCE  SHOWS  that  this  addition  offsets  very  ac- 
curately the  number  of  square  feet  of  sail  lying  between  a 
straight  line  drawn  from  the  end  of  the  boom  to  the  sheave 
of  the  topsail  halyards,  and — considering  that  line  as  a  base 
— the  two  legs  of  the  triangle  extending  from  the  end  of 
the  boom  to  the  peak  of  the  gaff,  and  from  the  peak  of  the 
gaft'  to  the  topmast.  Then  the  length  of  the  corrected  base- 
line is  multiplied  by  the  height  of  the  mast,  taken  from 
the  deck  to  the  sheave  on  the  topmast,  and  the  result  is  di- 
vided by  two.  After  obtaining  these  measurements,  pro- 
ceed as  stated  above — that  is,  add  the  square  root  of  the 
sail  area  to  the  length  of  the  load  water-line,  and  divide  by 
two.  Then  you  have  the  yacht's  racing  length.  There  is 
no  doubt  that  it  is  a  complicated  problem. 

BUT  THIS  METHOD  is  for  sloop  measurement.  To  get  the 
area  of  a  cat-boat  sail  there  is  a  simpler  way,  although 
it  is  not  so  absolutely  exact.  Draw  a  line  from  the  throat 
to  the  leach  parallel  to  the  foot  of  the  sail,  and  let  fall  from 
the  point  of  intersection  of  this  line  with  the  leach  another 
line  parallel  to  the  luff.  The  sail  is  then  divided  into  a 
rectangle  formed  by  these  two  lines,  the  luff,  and  part  of 
the  foot,  and  two  triangles,  one  of  which  is  bounded  by  the 
head  of  the  sail,  a  part  of  the  leach,  and  your  first  line;  the 
second,  by  a  part  of  the  leach,  a  part  of  the  foot,  and  your 
second  line.  To  compute  the  areas  of  these  two  triangles 
and  the  rectangle,  and  to  add  them,  is  a  matter  of  simple 
mathematics.  And  then  you  have  the  area  of  your  sail. 

BETWEEN  NOW  AND  THE  TIME  of  the  opening  of  the  foot- 
ball season  I  want  to  say  something  each  week  about  the 
game,  more  especially  about  tho  cany  training  for  it,  and 
the  elementary  principles  of  play  which  so  many  enthusi- 
asts overlook  at  first,  and  consequently  go  in  and  fail.  No- 
body was  ever  born  a  football  player.  To  become  proficient 
in  the  game  you  must  devote  many  months  to  praet  iee.  and 
several  years  to  actual  study  of  the  game.  Football  is  a 
science, just  as  chess  is  a  science — and  there  arc  very  IV w 
gieat  chess-players.  There  are  very  few  great  football 


players.  My  advice  to  the  young  man  who  wants  to  excel 
on  the  gridiron  is  first  to  find  out,  if  he  can,  what  position 
he  is  best  suited  for  (not  what  position  he  likes  best),  and 
then  to  study  and  play  that  position  steadily  and  fcrr  all  he 
is  worth.  Go  to  as  many  big  games  as  possible,  and  watch 
the  ineu  who  play  your  chosen  position.  See  wherein  they 
excel,  and  note  your  own  short-comings.  In  addition, 
read  everything  you  can  get  hold  of  about  the  science  and 
strategy  of  the  game.  There  are  a  number  of  books  on  the 
subject.  And  after  yon  have  read  pretty  thoroughly, 
think.  No  man  can  be  a  good  football  player  unless  he  can 
think  out  football  problems  for  himself. 

BUT  MORE  OF  THAT  LATER.  The  important  question  now 
is  that  of  preliminary  training,  and  by  far  the  most  impor- 
tant thing  about  preliminary  training  is  to  do  not  too 
much  at  first.  It  is  .not  only  unwise  to  work  hard  at 
first,  but  it  is  dangerous.  Most  of  the  men  have  been 
away  on  long  vacations,  and  very  few,  if  any,  of  them  have 
been  taking  any  regular  or  systematic  exercise.  Conse- 
quently their  muscles  are  not  prepared  to  endure  the  sud- 
den strains  and  wrenches  to  which  they  are  being  .subject- 
ed. It  is  a  matter  of  record  that  more  sprains  and  bruises 
occur  during  the  first  few  weeks  of  practice  than  at  any 
other  time  of  the  season. 

FOR  THE  FIRST  WEEK  OR  so  the  careful  Captain  will  see 
that  his  men  perform  only  very  light  work.  He  will  put 
them  through  easy  exercises,  he  will  have  them  pass  and 
kick  the  ball  and  practise  falling  on  it.  Then  he  will  have 
his  men  take  short  runs  across  country,  and  do  such  general 
light  work  for  wind  and  muscle  as  will  enable  them  to  take 
up  hard  practice  without  danger.  Every  mau  should  have 
a  heavy  sweater  or  an  overcoat  at  hand  to  put  on  as  soon 
as  play  is  stopped, for  every  precaution  should  be  taken  to 
avoid  catching  cold.  Every  football  team  should,  if  pos- 
sible, have  hot  and  cold  water  shower-baths  convenient  to 
their  dressing-rooms  —  for  cleanliness  is  as  important  a 
matter  to  the  welfare  of  the  players  as  fresh  air.  Long 
hot  baths  are  weakening  and  should  be  avoided,  except 
when  a  cold  has  settled  in  the  muscles,  and  then  hot  water 
is  of  value. 

FOOTBALL  PLAYERS  should  be  regular  in  their  daily  hab- 
its. They  should  rise,  take  their  meals,  and  retire  to  bed 
at  the  same  hours  every  day  ;  and  it  is  likewise  a  good  thing 
to  have  the  practice  at  the  same  hour  each  afternoon,  and, 
if  possible,  at  that  hour  of  the  day  when  matches  will  most 
probably  be  played  later  in  the  season.  The  men  should 
have  plenty  of  sleep,  say  from  ten  at  night  until  seven 
in  the  morning,  and  on  rising  they  should,  if  possible,  take 
a  short  walk  before  breakfast.  And  now  that  the  word 
breakfast  has  fallen  into  the  discussion  let  us  look  at  the 
commissariat  side  of"  the  football  question. 

THERE  WAS  A  TIME  when  a  fooball  player  was  supposed 
to  make  a  martyr  of  himself,  as  far  as  the  good  things  of 
the  kitchen  were  concerned.  His  bill  of  fare  was  made  up 
chiefly  of  raw  beef,  and  he  was  permitted  to  drink  only  so 
many  glasses  of  water  a  day.  This  barbarous  custom. 
however,  has  now  been  done  away  with,  and  from  personal 
experience  I  can  vouch  for  the  delicious  fare  of  the  train- 
ing-table of  the  present  day.  A  football  player's  diet 
must  be  restricted,  of  course,  but  there  is  an  ample  list  left 
that  he  may  choose  from.  Roast  beef,  beefsteak,  lamb 
chops,  roast  lamb,  broiled  chicken,  oatmeal,  rice,  mush,  and 
all  kinds  of  cereal  food,  potatoes  cooked  in  any  style  except 
fried,  vegetables,  eggs,  apple  sauce,  baked  apples  (never  any 
raw  apples),  prunes,  oranges,  grapes,  tigs,  dates,  and  all  fruit 
in  season  ;  rice  and  bread  pudding,  stale  bread,  and  dry 
toast — all  these  can  go  on  the  bill  of  fare.  The  forbidden 
dishes  are  pie,  cake,  salad,  pork,  veal,  rich  dressings,  any- 
thing fried,  ice-cream,  candy,  soda-water,  and  any  kinds  of 
drinks,  alcoholic,  malt,  or  soft.  No  tea,  no  coffee,  no  choco- 
late, and — but  this  should  go  without  saying — no  tobacco. 

ANOTHER  IMPORTANT  THING  for  the  Captain  of  a  football 
team  to  give  his  closest  attention  to  is  the  condition  of  his 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


men.  He  should  watch  them  continually, 
and  note  the  slightest  tendency  toward 
overtraining,  i'i>r  overtraining  is  much  easier 
to  prevent  than  to  remedy.  As  soon  as  a 
player  gets  into  this  condition  he  should 
take  absolute  rest  for  several  days,  and 
thereafter  he  should  only  play  for  a  short 
time  each  day.  A  change  of  diet  is  a  good 
thing,  too.  Remove  all  restrictions  from 
the  diet  of  the  overtrained  man,  and  let  him 
eat  what  he  chooses  for  a  few  days.  Over- 
training shows  itself  in  various  ways,  but 
the  most  common  is  for  a  player  to  feel 
worn  and  tired  and  disinclined  to  work 
hard  on  the  Held.  This  is  simply  an  evi- 
dence that  his  muscles  have  heeu  worked 
too  hard,  and  have  become  so  fatigued  that 
they  cannot  recuperate  their  full  vitality 
between  one  day's  practice  and  the  nest. 

WHILE  SPEAKING  OF  DIET  I  omitted  say- 
ing that  ice-water  should  he  shunned  al- 
most as  if  it  were  an  alcoholic  beverage. 
Never  have  ice  water  on  the  training-table. 
Drink  cold  water,  but  do  not  have  it  iced. 
Ir  is  a  bad  thing,  too,  to  allow  players  to 
drink  anything  during  practice  or  until  an 
lioiir  after  practice  lias  been  stopped.  This 
will  prove  a  hardship  at  lirst,  as  the  mouth 
gets  dry  and  parched.  Have  a  pail  of  water 
near  the  field  and  a  tin  cup,  and  let  the  men 
rinse  their  mouths,  but  do  not  pen. lit,  tin-in 
to  drink.  After  a  week  or  so  they  will  be- 
come accustomed  to  the  abstinence,  and 
their  saliva  glands  will  act  more  freely. 
Gum-chewing  is  a  bad  practice,  too.  Con- 
stant mastication  stimulates  the  glands;  but 
it  is  injurious  in  the  end.  just  as  all  arti- 
ficial methods  are  in  whatever  sphere  they 
may  be  practised. 

THE  FOOTBALL  TEAM  should  work  on  the 
field  every  day,  rain  or  shine.  Practice  on 
,a  wet  and  muddy  ground  is  necessary,  be- 
cause it  frequently  happens  that  the  most 
important  game  of  the  year  (usually  played 
at  the  end  of  the  season)  has  to  be  con- 
tested on  a  rainy  day.  Thus  practising  in 
the  rain  will  accustom  the  players  to  run- 
ning and  dodging  in  the  mud,  and  to  hold- 
ing a  wet  and  slippery  ball.  If  the  storm 
is  such,  however,  that  work  in  the  open  air 
is  out  of  the  question,  the  team  should 
practise  in  -  doors.  Rehearsing  signals  is 
ooo. I  occupation  for  such  occasions,  and 
practice  in  passing  the  ball  and  in  tackling 
can  also  be  had.  But  unless  in-door  work 
is  unavoidable  it  should  never  be  indulged 
in  during  the  active  season.  The  work  on 
the  field  demands  all  the  energy  of  the 
players.  THE  GRADUATE. 


STAMPS 


This  Department   19  conducted    in  the  interest  of  stnmp  and  coin 

collectors,  and  the  Editor  will  be  ple.isrd  !<>  m^wer  sny  question  on 
tbese  subjects  so  far  as  possible.  Correspondents  sli.iul.l  in  Id  res*  Editor 
Stamp  Department. 

THE  American  Philatelic  Association  has 
just  been  holding  its  annual  convention 
tit  Clayton,  New  York.     Two  sessions  were 
held   each  day  August  13th,  14th,  loth,  and 
Ib'th.     This  should  be  a  very  powerful  so- 


ciety, but  is  not  on  account  of  poor  manage- 
ment. For  1S95-96  the  following  officers 
were  elected:  J.  K.  Titt'any,  president ;  Al- 
vah  Davison,  vice-president;  N.W.  Chan- 
dler, treasurer;  C.  W.  Kissinger,  secretary. 
The  next  annual  meeting  will  probably  be 
held  in  Wisconsin  or  Minnesota. 

THE  YEAI:  1888  the  Belgium  government 
withdrew  the  5 -franc  stamp  from  use. 
During  its  life  about  45,000  were  used,  most 
of  which  were  probably  saved  by  collectors. 
A  short  time  ago  2400  of  these  stamps,  un- 
used, were  found  in  the  Brussels  post-office, 
and  these  have  just  been  .sold  by  auction  to 
one  man,  who  paid  36,000  francs  for  the  lot, 
more  than  three  times  their  face  value. 

THE  MAKING  OF  NEW  ISSUES  of  postage- 
stamps  primarily  to  sell  to  collectors  has 
not  been  stopped.  Peru  intends  to  issue 
one  commemorative  stamp  on  September 
10, 1895.  Uruguay  will  issue  three  stamps 
in  commemoration  of  Joaquin  .Suarez  on 
October  8, 1895.  The  pious  Belgium  post- 
master proposes  to  make  two  series  of  local 
stamps  for  use  in  Liege  and  Brussels  in 
commemoration  of  St.  Lambert,  the  first 
bishop  of  Belgium.  France  has  surcharged 
her  own  15,  •_'.">.  HO,  50  centimes,  and  1  franc 
stamps  D.  S.  for  use  in  the  colony  of  Diego 
Suarez.  I  advise  collectors  to  leave  all 
the  above  out  of  their  collections.  Any 
money  spent  for  them  is  simply  thrown 
away. 

THE  NEW  3, 5, 30,  and  50  cent  postage-due 
stamps  have  been  reported  as  issued;  but  uo 
copies  have  yet  reached  the  New  York  post- 
office. 

IT  IS  RUMORED  in  stamp  circles  that  the 
U.  S.  government  is  going  to  use  paper  wa- 
ter-marked with  an  eagle  for  use  in  print- 
ing stamps.  I  hope  the  postal  authorities 
will  see  that  the  water-mark  will  be  made 
sufficiently  clear  to  be  seen  distinctly  on 
every  stamp.  The  present  system  is  simply 
laughable.  In  99  instances  out  of  every  100 
the  present  water-mark  can  be  seen  only 
on  the  margins  of  the  sheets,  and  one  stamp 
may  contain  the  water-mark  of  a  portion  of 
one  letter  only,  while  others  have  parts  of 
two  letters.  Other  governments  seem  to 
have  no  difficulty  in  making  clear  and  ar- 
tistic designs  for  use  as  water-marks.  See, 
for  instance,  the  numerous  Great  Britaiu 
water-marks  illustrated  in  HAKPER'S  ROUND 
TABLE  No.  821. 


STILL  THERE'S  MORE  to  follow.  Another 
batch  of  the  St.  Louis  stamps  has  turned  up, 
and  philatelists  are  wondering  how  many 
there  were  in  that  Louisville  find  (not  Kan- 
sas City  as  stated  in  last  week's  issue).  Per- 
haps some  one  has  the  plate.  About  a.  \  ea  i 
ago  a  New  York  dealer  was  approached  Ipy 
a  man  who  claimed  to  have  the  plate  in  his 
possession  and  offered  to  print  a  lot,  but  the 
dealer  was  shy,  and  declined  to  make  any 
bargain  until  after  a  sample  sheet  had  been 
shown  to  lam  for  examination.  As  this  was 
not  done,  negotiations  ceased. 

R.  T  K  —The  token  inscribed  on  the  reverse,  "Not 
one  cent  (or  tribute,  millions  fur  defence,"  issued 
1841,  is  very  interest  hi<_'.  Ir  is  one  of  the  "  hard- 
money  tokens'"  issued  between  1837  and  1842,  and 
are  very  common.  They  have  no  money  value.  The 
1871  U.  S.  dollar  is  worth  face  only. 

E.  PATTISON. — The  coins  mentioned  are  quite  com- 
mon, and  are  worth  face  only 

W.  GOFF. — There  is  no  way  of  cleaning  c:in'''-llr(l 
postage-stamps,  hence  the  high  value  of  nmst  UIHI^T! 
compared  with  used  specimens.  For  inMain •<•.  Mu- 
ll. S.  3C.-1S57,  with  outer  line,  used  sells  for  25c.,bnt 
unused  commands  S15. 

E.  F.  KDT.TZ.—  The  K  die  U.  S.  envelope  1S53  iseue 
on  buff  can  be  bought  for  $3  and  less,  whether  the 
stamp  shows  cancellation  mark  or  not.  If  the  entire 
envelope  is  unused  and  clean  it  is  worth  $10  and  up- 
ward. On  white  paper  the  prices  are  much  higher. 

C.  C.B.— The  dealers  pay  $1  15  each  Inr  the  I  s. 
gold  dollars  dated  1850  to  1S55,  and  sell  them  fin  out 
$1  50.  These  are  the  common  dates.  The  valuable 
gold  dollars  are  tjiose  of  which  a  few  copies  only  were 
coined  within  the  past  twenty  years. 

B.  MAGKI.SKN. — There  are  not  two  varieties  of  any 
Columbian  stamp,  but  almost  every  denomination  <-:ni 
be  found  in  two  or  more  distinct  shades.  Purple  is  a 
very  difficult  ink  to  compound,  so  are  certain  reds. 
For  instance,  there  are  over  100  different  shades  <  it  llie 
current  2c. -stamp,  all  printed  within  the  past  year,  and 
all  nominally  the  same  color. 

J.  SMYTHK. — There  are  not  many  collectors  of  U.  S. 
envelopes  bearing  express  names,such  as  Wells, Fargo, 
&  Co.,  etc.  Hence  the  envelopes  are  rarely  worth 
more  than  the  regular  issues. 

SAN  ANTONIO.— The  San  Antonio  of  Padua  jubilee 
issue  now  current  in  Portugal  and  the  Azores,  al- 
though good  for  postage  in  those  countries,  is  frowned 
upon  by  collectors,  as  their  postal  use  is  a  mere  side 
issue,  the  chief  reason  why  they  were  made  being  for 
sale  to  collectors.  There  are  fifteen  varieties 
1%,  5, 10, 15,  20,  25,  50,  75,  SO,  100,  150,  200,  300,  51)0,  and 

1UOO  reis,  also  one  10-reis   postal-card.     The  ^i 

stamps  are  surcharged  Acores  for  use  in  that  colony. 

A.  LKWKAWSKY.—  There  are  no  reprints  of  U.  S. 
stamps  issued  after  1S70.  If  yon  can  buy  the  $1  and 
$2  Columbian  issue  do  so  by  all  meaus.  They  are 
going  up  in  value  rapidly.  The  present  $1  stamp  it  is 
said  will  be  printed  in  some  other  color.  If  so.  Hie 
chances  are  that  the  black  ones  will  advance  in  price 
materially. 

PHILATUS. 


A.TD  VKK.TISK.IVI  K'.NXS. 


Highest  of  all  in  Leavening  Strength. —  Latest  U.  S.  Gov't  Report 


Baking 
Powder 


ABSOLUTELY  PURE 


HARPER'S  NEW  CATALOGUE, 

Thoroughly  revised,  classified,  and  hide: 

by  mail  to  any  address  on  receipt  uf  ten  cents. 


899 


HAEPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Bicycle  route. 

Fair  bicycle  road. 
••*•» Ran I  nay  station. 
ir~Hill  or  poor  road. 
«f.  Hotel 


BICYCLING 


This  Department  is  conducted  in  the  interest  of  Bicyclers,  and  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to 
answer  any  question  on  the  subject.  Our  maps  and  tours  contain  much  valuable  data  kindly 
supplied  from  the  official  maps  and  road-books  of  the  League  of  American  Wheelmen  Recog- 
nizing the  value  of  the  work  being  done  by  the  L  A.  W..  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  t»  tun  isb 
subscribers  with  membership  blanks  and  information  so  far  as  possible. 

ANOTHER  pleasant  ride  out  of  Philadelphia  into  New- 
Jersey  is  to  the  town  of  Vineland  by  way  of  Salem. 
The  entire  distance  is  sixty-two  miles,  aud  the  run  can,  of 
course,  be  made  in  one  day,  with  a  stop  at  Salem  for  dinner. 
It  is  pleasanter,  however,  to  make  a  two-days  trip  out  of 
it.  If  the  weather  is  good  and  you  still  want  to  ride,  a  run 
can  be  made  from  Vineland  to  Philadelphia  direct  on  the 
third  day,  though  the  roads  are  not  in  either  good  condition 
or  well  made  originally  over  the  direct  route.  The  first 
stage  will  carry  us  to  Salem,  thirty-two  miles  from  Phila- 
delphia. Leaving  the  city  at  Market  Street,  cross  to  Caui- 
deu  and  run  down  to  Gloucester,  or  cross  at  the  South  Street 
Ferry,  if  you  choose,  direct  to  Gloucester.  Thence  turning 
to  the  right  at  the  end  of  the  Ferry  Street,  follow  a  direct 
road  to  Westville,  which  you  enter  just  after  crossing  the 
track.  The  road  is  macadamized,  is  very  level,  aud  in 
pretty  fair  condition.  From  this  point  to  Woodbury  is 
direct  by  the  same  macadamized  road,  the  track  being  again 
crossed  a  little  over  half-way  to  the  latter  place.  The  dis- 
tance from  Gloucester  to  Woodbury  is  about  four  miles. 

ON  LEAVING  WoonBUJiY,  take  the  right  fork  at  the  break 
in  the  roads  just  outside  of  the  village  and  run  direct  to 
Berkley,  which  is  to  the  westward  of  yon,  passing  through 
Clarksboro,  where  the  end  of  the  macadam  is  readied  and 
a  gravel  road  begins.  The  road  is  not  uncertain  anywhere 
along  the  route,  but  from  C'larksboro  to  Swedesboro  it  is  as 
nearly  straight  as  a  road  could  well  be.  The  railroad  runs 
along  on  the  western  side  half  a  mile  or  more  away,  passing 
through  Mickletown  and  Wolferts.  Just  after  crossing  the 
road  which  runs  into  Wolferts  station  you  will  come  to  a 
hill  which  is  somewhat  difficult,  owing  partly  to  the  condi- 
tion of  the  roadbed  and  partly  to  the  steepness  of  the  hill 
itself.  It  is  best  to  keep  on  the  main  road,  even  if  you  dis- 
mount and  walk  over  the  hill  itself. 


AT  SWEDESBORO  A  STOP  can  be  made  for  dinner  or 
lunch  at  Ford's  Hotel.  You  have  now  ridden  fifteen  miles 
and  covered  about  half  the  distance.  Leaving  Ford's 
after  a  rest  keep  to  the  left  instead  of  crossing  the  track, 
and  run  along  close  by  the  rails  seven  miles  to  Woodstown. 
A  number  of  roads  come  together  as  you  enter,  aud  to. 
reach  the  centre  of  the  village  itself  yon  should  keep  to  the 
left  fork  and  run  along  into  the  central  square.  If  yon  do 
not  mean  to  stop,  keep  to  the  right  fork  after  crossing  the 
railroad,  and  run  direct  to  Salem,  ten  miles  away.  A  rider 
can  keep  always  to  the  left  forks  if  he  chooses  on  leaving 
Woodstown  until  he  has  gone  about  two  miles  out,  when 
he  should  turn  to  the  right  at  a  fork  and  meet  the  main 
bicycle  road  five  or  six  miles  from  Woodstown.  On  the 
whole,  it  is  better  to  keep  to  the  straight  turnpike.  The 
whole  route  to  Salem  is  remarkably  level  as  country  roads 
go,  and  while  the  bed  is  gravel  beyond  Clarksboro,  it  is 
nevertheless  in  reasonably  good  condition  all  the  way.  At 
Salnu  the  Xelson  House  is  a  good  place  to  stop  for  the 
night. 

NOTE.— Map  of  New  York  city  asphalted  stieets  in  No.  809.  Map  of 
route  from  New  York  to  Tarrytown  in  No.  810.  New  York  to  Stamford, 
Connecticut,  in  No.  811  New  York  to  Staten  Island  iu  No.  812.  New 
Jersey  from  Hoboken  to  Pine  Brook  in  No.  813.  Brooklyn  iu  No.  S14. 
Brooklyn  to  Babylon  in  No.  S15.  Brooklyn  to  Northport  in  No.  816. 
Tan-ytown  to  Poughkeepsie  in  No.  817.  Ponghkeepsie  to  Hudson  in 
No.  SIS.  Hudson  to  Albany  ill  No.  819.  Tottenville  to  Trenton  in  820. 
Trenton  to  Philadelphia  in  821.  Philadelphia  in  No.  822.  Philadelphia 
— Wissahickon  Route  in  No.  823.  Philadelphia  to  West  Chester  in  No. 
824.  Philadelphia  to  Atlantic  City— Firat  Stage  in  No.. 825;  Second 
Stage  iu  No.  826. 


Copyright,  1695,  by  Harper  i  Brothers. 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Any  questions  in  regard  to  photograph  matters  will  be  willingly- 
answered  by  the  Editor  of  this  column,  and  we  should  be  glad  to  hear 
from  any  of  our  club  who  can  make  helpful  suggestions. 

WATERSCAPES. 

TITHE  amateur  who  lives  inland,  ami  lias 
J.  made  a  success  of  landscapes,  is  usually 
quite  disappointed  with  his  pictures  of  wa- 
terscapes when  he  takes  his  summer  outing 
at  the  sea  or  lake  shore.  The  photographs 
are  for  the  most  part  thin  and  flat,  .-md, 
while  detail  is  not  lacking,  there  is  no 
contrast  between  light  and  shadow. 

The  reason  is  that  one  is  not  prepared  for 
the  intense  light  with  which  the  whole 
scene  is  flooded,  and  consequently  the  plate 
is  exposed  too  long.  The  reflection  from 
the  water  almost  doubles  the  intensity  of 
the  light.  This  may  be  noticed  when  fo- 
cussing the  image.  Every  part  of  the  scene 
reflected  on  the  ground -glass  is  so  well 
illuminated  that  there  are  none  of  those 
dark  masses  of  shadows  which  appear  on 
inland  pictures.  This  the  amateur  at  first 
thinks  is  an  advantage.  In  one  respect  it 
is,  for  it  enables  one  to  get  a  sharp  focus 
much  more  easily.  This  seeming  advantage 
is  really  a  great  disadvantage.  The  strong 
light  on  every  object  renders  the  developed 
negative  flat  and  without  contrast. 

One  way  to  bring  out  the  contrast  is  to 
use  a  small  diaphragm.  Focus  with  a  larger 
diaphragm  and  then  put  in  a  small  one. 
The  change  iu  the  image  on  the  ground- 
glass  will  be  at  once  noticed.  Instead  of 
being  evenly  lighted,  the  shadows  are  soft- 
ened, and  if  a  quick  exposure  is  made,  and 
the  negative  carefully  developed,  a  picture 
will  be  obtained  with  as  artistic  gradations 
between  the  lights  and  shadows  as  iu  those 
•of  a  landscape. 

In  developing  instantaneous  pictures 
taken  at  the  sea-shore  a  great  deal  of  judg- 
ment must  be  exercised.  In  the  first  place, 
as  the  light  to  which  the  plate  has  been  ex- 
posed is  very  strong,  the  picture  must  be 
put  in  the  developer  iu  a  very  dim  light, 
uot  allowing  any  of  the  direct  rays  from  the 
a'ed  light  to  strike  the  plate.  As  soon  as 
the  plate  is  covered  with  the  developer  put 
a  cover  over  the  tray,  and  do  not  expose  to 
the  light  till  time  for  the  picture  to  begin 
to  appear.  If  it  comes  up  too  quickly,  take 
it  at  once  from  the  tray  and  put  it  in  a  dish 
of  clear  water.  Mix  a  fresh  weak  developer, 
or  dilute  the  same  developer  and  add  a  few 
•drops  of  bromide  of  potassium. 

A  weak  solution  of  developer  should  be 
•used  to  start  the  development.  Let  the' 
picture  come  up  rather  slowly. and  after  ile- 
tail  is  well  out  take  the  plate  from  the  de- 
veloper, rinse  in  clear  water,  and  put  it  in  a 
stronger  solution  of  developer  till  it  has  at- 
tained the  right  density.  Examine  by  hold- 
ing to  the  light,  and  do  not  depend  on  the 
image  on  the  back  of  the  plate  as  a  guide 
to  density.  If  the  picture  lacks  iu  detail, 
•add  a  few  drops  of  bicarbonate  of  soda  to 
the  developer;  if  lacking  in  density,  a  few 
drops  of  solution  of  bromide  of  potassium 
should  be  used. 

Fog,  which  one  would  natnrallysuppo.se 
would  obscure  or  deaden  the  light,  has  in- 


stead  great  illuminating  power.  Instan- 
taneous pictures  taken  on  a  foggy  day  are 
often  the  most  beautiful  of  waterscapes. 

A  good  rule  when  taking  pictures  at  the 
sea-shore  is  to  use  a  small  stop,  and  tlie, 
quickest  exposure  of  the  shutter  provided 
with  the  hand  camera. 

Remember  that  the  light,  is  more  than 
double  the  strength  on  the  sea  than  on  the 
laud,  and  that  the  water  reflects  the  light 
instead  of  absorbing  it. 

SIR  KNIGHT  RAY.MONI>  J.  SrooNEH  would  like  to 
know  how  to  mount  prints  on  paper  so  that  they  will 
lie  smooth.  He  inteuds  to  use  drawing-paper  8x10 
for  4X5  prints  and  then  have  them  bound.  Make  a 
rather  thin  paste  of  laundry  starch.  Soak  the  prims 
in  water  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  lay  them  one  by 
one  face  down  on  Borne  hard  smooth  surface,  like  a 
pane  of  glass  or  the  bottom  of  a  porcelain  toning-tray. 
Blot  each  one  as  it  is  taken  out  o£  the  water,  remov- 
ing all  the  superfluous  moisture.  Bave  the  sheet  of 
drawing-paper  ready,  and  moisten  the  place  where  the 
print  is  to  be  placed  very  slightly  with  a  damp  sponge. 
Paste  the  back  of  the  print,  using  only  enough  paste 
to  cover  it,  lift  the  corner  with  the  point  of  a  knife, 
and  lay  it  pasted  side  down  on  the  mount.  Lay  a 
piece  of  tissue-paper  over  the  face  of  the  mouut  and 
roll  the  print  smooth  with  a  squeegee.  A  smooth 
glass  bottle  can  be  used  if  one  has  no  squeegee,  or  a 
new  wooden  rolling-pin  answers  every  purpose.  Lay 
the  print  when  mounted  between  two  pieces  of  clean 
blotting-paper  and  put  a  weight  on  it;  as  the  prints 
are  mounted  they  can  be  laid  one  on  top  of  the  other 
with  blotting-paper  between.  Be  very  careful  that  no 
paste  is  on  the  face  of  the  print.  The  object  iu  moist- 
ening the  mount  is  that  the  print  may  not  make  it 
shrink;  drawing-paper,  being  lighter  weight  than  a 
card-mount,  is  apt  to  do  this  unless  it  is  first  moistened 
as  directed. 

ANSWERS  TO  QDKRIKS.— Sin  KNIGUT  A.  SMITU  wishes 
to  know  what  will  keep  fllms  from  curling  when  in 
the  developer  The  films  should  he  soaked  in  water 
till  they  become  limp  before  they  are  placed  in  the 
developer.  To  keep  them  from  curling  after  develop- 
ment they  should  be  placed  before  drying  in  a  solution 
of  glycerine  and  water,  composed  of  glycerine  %  oz., 
water  S  oz. 


FALSE  ECONOMY 

is  practised  by  people  who  buy  inferior  articles  of 
food.  The  Gail  Borden  Eagle  Brand  Condensed  Milk 
is  the  best  infant  food.  Infant  Health  is  the  title  of  a 
valuable  pamphlet  for  mothers.  Sent  free  by  New 
York  Condensed  Milk  Co.,  New  York.—  [Atla.] 

ADVERTISEMENTS. 


Cortffeifcf 


Co 


"Autumn  Styles" 

Ladies'  Golf  Capes 

In  Great  Variety. 

Foreign  and  Domestic  Makes. 


(J 

NEW    YORK. 

901 


You  See  Them 
Everywhere 


Satisfaction   and 
Speed  in 

Columbia 
Bicycles 

The  famous  Hartford  Single-Tube 
Tires  with  which  Columbia  Bicycles 
are  equipped  add  much  to  the  pleas- 
ure Columbia  riders  have  in  bicy- 
cling. Even  the  dreaded  puncture 
loses  its  terrors  with  Hartford 
Single-Tube;;.  Repaired  in  a  min- 
ute. Anyone  can  do  it.  Dunlop 
tires,  best  of  double  tubes,  if  you 
prefer. 


POPE    MFG.   CO. 


Stamps, 


i  nnn  Mixed  Foreign  Postage  Stamps,  including 
I  UUU  Fiji  Islands,  Samoa,  Hawaii,  HongKoug,  for 
34c.  iu  stamps  ;  10  varieties  D.  S.  Columbian  si  amps, 
25c.;  entire  unused  5c.  and  lOc.  Columbian  Enve- 
lopes, 25c.  the  pair.  Only  a  limited  number  were  is- 
sued by  U.  S.  Government.  E.  F.  GAMES,  Box  2G31, 
San  Francisco,  Cal.  Established,  1872. 

100  all  dif.  Venezuela,  Costa  Rica,  etc  ,  only 
10c.;200alldif.Hayti,IIawaii,etc.,<>nlyMic. 
A g'l swantedat50perct.com.  ListFREEI 
I'.A.Stegman  n,2722  EadsAv.,St.Louis, Mo. 


100 


all  different,  China,  etc.,  10c.;  5  Saxony,  10c.; 
4ll  Spain,  40c.;  6  Tunis,  14c.:    10  f.  S.  Rev- 
enues, luc.  Agts.  wtd.,  50£  com.;  '95  list  free. 
CRITTENDEN  &  BORG  MAN  CO..  Detroit,  Mich. 


Good 
Music 


Franklin 

Square 

Song 

Collection. 


GOOD  MUSIC  arouses  a  spirit  of  good-will, 
creates  a  harmonious  atmosphere,  and  where 
harmony  and  good-will  prevail,  the  disobedient, 
turbulent,  unruly  spirit  finds  no  resting-place. 
Herbert  Spencer  puts  his  final  test  of  any  plan  of 
culture  in  the  form  of  a  question,  "  Does  it  create 
a  pleasurable  excitement  in  the  pupils?11  Judged 
by  this  criterion,  Music  deserves  the  first  rank, 
for  no  work  done  in  the  school  room  is  so  surely 
creative  of  pleasure  as  singing.  Do  we  not  all 
agree,  then,  that  Vocal  Music  has  power  to  bene- 
fit every  side  of  the  child  nature  ?  And  in  these 
days,  when  we  seek  to  make  our  schools  the 
arenas  where  children  may  grow  into  symmetri- 
cal, substantial,  noble  characters,  cm  we  afford 
to  neglect  so  powerful  an  aid  as  .Music  ?  Let  us  as 
rather  encourage  it  in  every  way  possible. 

Nowh  •  'can  von  find  for  Home  or  S 

a  betU'r  Srlt'cfion  of  S\>ngs  ami  Hymns  than 
in  the  Franklin  Square  Song  Collection. 

Sold  Everywhere*  Price,  50  cents;    Clot1. 
Full  contents  of  the  Several  Numbers,  witb 
men  Pa^es  of  favorite  Soni^    it  nil    \\\  m 
Harper  ^&  Brothers,  New  York,  to  any  add:  L 


HARPEE'S   BOUND   TABLE 


Mangoes  and  Bilberries  in  Jamaica. 

All  tbe  mangoes  are  ripe  now,  and  we  get  plenty 
of  them.  There  are  about  six  kinds  :  the  Number 
Eleven,  the  Black,  tbe  Yam,  the  Kidney,  and  tbe 
Ea-.t  Indian.  I  like  the  Black  best,  though  tbe  Num- 
ber Eleven  is  considered  the  choicest.  The  Black 
mangoes  are  gray  with  black  spots  ou  them  ;  the 
Number  Eleven  are  a  bright  orauge  color;  and  tbe 
Yarn  mangoes  are  yellow  and  red,  and  might  be 
taken  by  strangers  for  huge  peaches  as  they  lie  ou 
the  ground.  The  East  Indian  variety  is  big  aiid 
green,  with  black  spots. 

We  also  have  bilberries.  They  are  about  the 
color,  shape,  and  size  of  our  huckleberries,  and 
they  taste  about  the  same.  We  have  them  in  the 
morning  fur  breakfast.  We  also  have  coeoamus 
on  our  place.  When  they  are  young  the  milk  is 
good  to  drink,  aiid  is  very  refreshing.  Our  cook 
often  makes  soup  of  them,  which  is  very  rich  in 
flavor.  At  one  time  I  saw  our  cook  with  her  din- 
ner on  her  bead.  It  consisted  of  baked  plantain 
and  yam,  and  was  smoking  hot.  She  was  walking 
around  the  yard,  taking  off  a  bit  of  her  dinner  now 
and  then  to  eat  it. 

Coffee  does  not  seem  to  grow  well  in  this  place, 
judging  from  that  which  is  here.  It  grows  better 
in  higher  regions.  There  is  to  be  a  "  Sky  Meeting  " 
at  Up- Park-Camp  on  the  20th  of  July,  given  by  the 
EriL'IKh  officers,  it  includes  horse -racing,  etc. 
This  place  iu  which  we  are  now  living  is  called 
*'  Garden  House."  The  first  mangoes  in  the  island 
were  planted  here,  and  all  the  others  came  from 
them.  There  are  sixteen  acres  of  coffee.  The  peo- 
ple prune  their  coffee  after  it  has  begun  bearing. 
I  would  like  a  few  correspondents. 

FRED  HAWTHORNE. 

GABDHN  HoUBK,  KINGSTON,  JAMAICA. 


Gold  and  Silver  from  Ores. 

I  visited  a  huge  smeltery  not  long  ago,  and  saw 
how  gold  and  silver  were  separated  from  their  ores. 
The  lead  ore,  or  galena,  which  contains  also  gold, 
silver,  and  copper,  is  brought,  from  Utah.  The  av- 
erage yield  of  silver  of  the  ore  used  here  is  about 
one  hundred  ounces  to  the  ton.  Tbe  amount  of 
gold  and  silver  in  the  ore  is  determined  in  the  as- 
saying-room in  this  manner: 

A  piece  of  the  silver- bearing  lead  is  carefully 
weighed  in  a  very  delicate  balance,  and  is  then 
placed  in  a  little  cup  of  bone  ash,  called  a  cupel. 
Then  the  cupel  is  put  into  a  very  hot  furnace  so 
arranged  that  a  current  of  air  passes  over  it.  The 
air  oxidizes  the  melted  base  metals,  but  the  gold 
and  silver  are  not  affected.  Tbe  cupel  has  the  re- 
markable power  of  absorbing  the  oxides  of  metal, 
and  so  in  an  hour  or  so  there  is  nothing  left  in  it 
save  a  little  bead  of  silver  and  gold.  This  bead  is 
then  weighed,  and  in  this  way  it  is  known  what 
proportion  of  gold  and  silver  there  is  in  the  ore. 

To  extract  the  metals,  the  ore  is  mixed  with 
limestone  and  coal,  and  is  thrown  into  a  blast-fur- 
nace, which  resembles  an  inverted  cone.  A  fire  is 
started  in  tbe  bottom  and  a  blast  of  air  is  forced 
through  tbe  pipes  into  the  furnace.  When  the 
metal  has  been  melted  from  the  ore  the  furnace  is 
tapped  at  tbe  bottom,  and  the  metal,  consisting  of 
gold,  silver,  copper,  and  lead,  runs  out  into  large 
pots.  It  is  then  run  into  moulds.  This  metal  is 
called  "  bullion." 

The  next  process  is  to  separate  the  lead  from  the 
other  metals.  The  bullion  is  melted  in  a  large  deep 
basin  and  molten  zinc  is  added.  The  zinc  forms 
an  alloy  with  the  gold,  silver,  and  copper,  which  is 
lighter  than  the  lead,  and  therefore  floats  on  the 
surface.  Then  this  alloy  is  skimmed  off  and  taken 
to  another  part  of  the  works,  where  it  is  placed  in 
furnace's  and  the  zinc  burned  out.  After  all  the 
zinc  has  been  gotten  rid  of  the  metal  is  taken  to  a 
large  room  which  contains  a  row  of  small  furnaces. 
Inside  of  these  furnaces  are  shallow  cupels  over 
whirh  a  current  of  air  passes.  After  tbe  metal  has 
been  melted  in  these  cupels  it  is  run  out  into 
moulds,  which  shape  the  metal  into  plates  about 
twenty  inches  long  and  ten  in  width. 

The  metal  of  these  plates  consists  of  gold  and 
silver,  which  still  have  to  be  separated.  The  plates 
are  hung  iu  gauze  bags  and  pfct  in  strong  nitric 
acid.  This  acid  dissolves  the  silver,  but  does  not 
affect  the  gold,  which  drops  down  into  tbe  bags 
and  is  caught  there.  About  three  inches  distant 


from  the  sack  containing  the  gold  and  silver  plate 
is  a  very  thin  plate  of  silver.  This  plate  and  the 
one  in  tbe  sack  are  connected  to  a  dynamo.  The 
current  of  electricity  causes  the  dissolved  silver  to 
deposit  itself  on  the  plate.  After  all  the  silver  has 
been  collected  it  is  cast  into  blocks  weighing  one 
thousand  ounces  each.  The  gold  is  likewise  cast 
into  blocks. 

I  saw  about  $100,000  worth  of  silver  in  tbe  vaults 
and  in  the  works.  There  are  other  methods  of 
separating  these  metals,  but  I  think  this  is  the 
most  common  way.  Some  ores  are  more  easily 
worked  than  others. 

PITTBBUBO,  PA.  HOMER  L.  STEWART,  R.T.F. 


The  Lyre-Bird. 

The  lyre-bird  is  a  very  beautiful  bird,  and  is  to  be 
found  iu  the  eastern  part  of  Australia.  The  form 
and  structure  of  the  tail  resemble  an  ancient 
Grecian  lyre,  hence  its  name.  The  size  of  this  bird 
is  about  that  of  the  common  hen,  the  eyes  are  dark 
hazel,  large,  mild  iu  expression,  and  very  beautiful. 
The  wings  are  short  aud  hollow,  rendering  great 
assistance  when  running,  but  of  little  use  in  flying. 

The  bird's  running  powers  are  extraordinary, 
and  it  is  not  easily  overtaken.  The  legs  are  rather 
long,  the  color  of  the  body  is  reddish-brown,  aud 
ii-  gi'iieral  appearance  is  very  graceful.  It  is  of  a 
gentle  disposition  and  altogether  harmless.  The 
lyre-bird  will  soon  be  lost  to  us  forever.  The  tail 
feathers  were  formerly  sold  iu  Sydney  at  a  low 
price,  but  now  that  the  beautiful  creatures  are 
nearly  exterminated  the  price  has  risen  exceeding- 
ly. CARRIE  WELLENBROCK,  R.T.L. 

*  »  * 
Prizes  for  Poems. 

Three  prizes  of  $5,  $4.  $3  each  are  offered  by 
HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE  for  the  best  short  poems. 
Any  subject  allowed.  Limited  to  five  stanzas;  the 
best  to  be  printed  in  the  ROUND  TABLE.  Competi- 
tion open  to  all  members  of  the  Order.  Forward 
not  later  than  December  1, 1895. 


A  Special  Offer. 

Teachers,  students,  superintendents  of  Sunday- 
schools,  ladies,  members  of  the  Round  Table,  and 
others  willing  to  distribute  ten  to  seventy  -  five 
Prospectuses  and  personally  commend  HARPER'S 
ROUND  TABLE,  will  receive,  according  to  number 
of  Prospectuses  distributed,  bound  volumes  of 
HARPER'S  YOUNO  PEOPLE  for  1893,  gold  badges  of 
the  Round  Table  Order,  packet  of  fifty  engraved 
visiting-cards,  bearing  their  name,  with  copper 
plate  for  future  use,  rubber  stamp  bearing  their 
name  and  address,  nickel  pencil  resembling  a  com- 
mon nail,  or  silver  badge  of  the  Round  Table  Order. 
This  offer  is  restricted  to  one  person  in  a  town  or 
neighborhood.  In  applying,  state  how  many  cir- 
culars you  can  place  in  the  hands  of  those  sure  to 
be  interested  in  them,  what  are  your  facilities  for 
distributing  them,  and  what  prize  you  seek. 


In  Aid  of  the  Fund. 

At  "  Pine  Top,"  on  tbe  afternoon  and  evening  of 
September  21st,  there  is  to  be  a  lawn  festival  and 
sale  in  aid  of  the  Good  Will  School  Fund.  Pine 
Top  is  at  162d  Street  and  Edgecombe  Road,  in  the 
upper  part  of  New  York  city,  and  the  festival  is 
under  tbe  auspices  of  the  Misses  Scbrenkeisen, 
Dey,  and  Hubert.  Tbe  admission  is  ten  and  five 
cents,  and  all  are  invited. 


Saving  on  Age. 

Thrift  is  an  admirable  trait.  Tbe  way  to  acquire 
it  is  to  cultivate  it.  The  way  to  cultivate  it  is  to 
deny  yourself,  and  faithfully  lay  by  the  money  you 
were  tempted  to  spend.  Of  course  you  do  not  lay 
the  money  by  for  the  sake  of  having  it  to  spend 
later  on.  People  save  money  for  the  money,  it  is 
true.  This  is  right  because  it  is  provident.  One 
might  fall  ill,  and  if  he  had  no  money  saved  up  he 
might  become  a  burden  upon  those  illy  able  to  sup- 
port him. 

But  tbe  best  thing  about  the  habit  of  saving  is 
the  habit  itself.  Having  the  habit  well  fixed  iu 

902 


one's  character  renders  one  self-controllable— in 
other  words,  thrifty.  Thrift  applies  to  more  things 
than  money-saving,  for  the  man  who  saves  money 
begins  to  save  other  things.  Waste  is  wrong— a 
sin. 

Did  you  ever  know  one  to  save  on  his  age — that 
is,  to  lay  by  as  many  dimes  or  dollars  each  year  as 
he  is  years  old?  Suppose  you  are  fourteen.  Dur- 
ing that  year  you  save  $14,  and  with  it  buy  a  cer- 
tificate of  deposit,  a  share  of  stock,  or  something 
that  is  complete  iu  itself— a  bond  that  represents 
your  age  that  year.  Next  year  you  are  fifteen,  and 
you  buy  a  $15  bond.  Or,  if  you  cannot  save  as 
many  dollars  as  you  are  years  old,  try  saving  as 
many  half-dollars  or  dimes.  Keep  your  money  in 
your  own  name,  not  in  the  name  of  somebody  else 
who  happens  to  have  a  bank-book  when  you  do 
not,  and  draw  it  out  only  when  you  are  very  sure 
you  need  it.  Get  your  age  bond  first,  and  your 
luxury  afterward. 

If  you  begin  at  fourteen,  a  dollar  for  each  year, 
you  will  have  at  twenty-one  seven  bonds,  repre- 
senting $119.  You  will  also  have  some  interest 
money.  But  you  will  have  much  more,  namely, 
the  hatil  of  saving— systematic  economy,  which  is 
an  education  of  itself,  and  one  which,  if  necessary 
to  gain,  you  could  well  afford  to  throw  away  the 
$119  that  you  saved. 


"Cbe 

Some  kind  friends  in  St  Louis  put  a  lemonade 
stand  on  Delaware  Boulevard  the  other  day,  and 
as  a  result  sent  $1  50  to  us  for  the  School  Fund. 
Two  readers  living  in  West  Grotou,  Mass.,  took  up 
a  ten-cent  collection  among  their  acquaintances, 
and  remitted  $1.  The  William  D.  Moffat  Chapter, 
of  Oakland,  Md.,  exhibited  some  rare  manuscripts 
which  a  friend  loaned  them,  and  sent  us  $10. 

The  letter  of  Mr.  Muuroe  was  cordially  received 
by  the  Order,  and  everybody  praised  the  idea  that 
each  member  be  represented,  so  that  the  building 
would  stand  as  a  monument  to  the  chivalry  of  the 
whole  Order.  Since  the  last  report  the  following 
sums  have  reached  us:  Roderick  and  William  J. 
Beebe,  $2.  William  D.  Moffat  Chapter,  Oakland, 
Md.,  $10.  Lucy  L.  Verrill,  $1.  H.  E.  Banning,  40 
cents.  Rosaline  and  Edith  dine,  SO  cents.  E.  J. 
and  F.  G.,  20  cents.  Carrie  Wellenbrock,  $1.  Otto 
Prussack,  5  cents.  Dorothy  and  Piueo,  5  cents. 
M.  C.  Haldeman,  25  cents.  Myra  F.  Chapiu.  10 
cents.  Carroll  D.  Murphy,  10  cents.  Harold  W. 
Bynnrr,  10  cents.  Gerard  Stafford  King,  10  cents. 
Two  devoted  readers,  $1.  Anna  E.  Sibley,  26  cents. 
Carolyn  G.  Thome,  50  cents.  Ernestine  Pattisou, 
$2  50  Amy,  D.  A.,  and  W.  H.  Bowman,  Maud  Hin- 
gen,  Marie  and  Morris  Sadler.  Jun.,  $1  50.  Kather- 
ine  A.  Waller,  25  cents. 

These  sums  come  from  every  part  of  the  country, 
showing  a  wide  interest.  The  Little  Women  Chap- 
ter, of  Upper  Nyack,  N.  Y.,  Sophie  Moeller,  presi- 
dent, is  to  hold  a  fair,  and  wants  contributions; 
tbe  members  of  the  Order  residing  in  Washington, 
D.  C.,  and  in  Cincinnati.  O..  respectively  are  to  have 
entertainments;  and  Mr.  Kirk  Munroe  is  to  give 
in  New  York  city,  in  November,  a  reading  from  his 
own  books.  Washington  members  may  send  word 
to  Elizabeth  W.  Hyde,  1418  Euclid  Place,  N.  W..  and 
Cincinnati  members  to  tbe  Robert  Louis  Stevt-nsnii 
Chapter,  J  H.  Bates,  Juu., 503  East  Third  Stivei. 


«.(MI|>      \1    ll.l         M  I    b    I 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 
INDUSTRIAL    SCHOOL    F  f  N  II 


il"' .      '  ' 
1  Jim 


Contributor 

r,  t'/i!  '"f.i^s 


If  you  use  this  Good  Will  Mite,  Biin]ily  pin  il  to  your  letter, 
in  ..nl,.r  Hint  il  may  be  detached  for  tiling.  If  the  amount  is 
Sh'en  by  more  than  one  contributor,  add  blanks  for  then  names. 
but  attach  the  aiided  sheet  lirnih  t..  tlf  Mitr,  that  il  HK,\  m.t 
become  detached  and  lost.  Include  a  iriven  name  in  each  case, 
and  write  plainly,  to  avoid  errors  on  tile  Honor  Roll. 


HARPEE'S   ROUND   TABLE 


s>    Ikinfes.   © 

No.  98.— ENIGMA. 

38,  21,  44,  20,  7,  35,  IS.-To  justify. 
29,  41,  5,  14,  33.— To  err. 
27,  31,  43,  15,  36.— A  judgment. 
«.  19,  47,  SB,  34,  40,  11,  30.— A  mechanical  bold. 
32.  6,  46.  26.  34.— A  kind  of  flax 
36,  18,  28,  45,  23.— Suspense. 
17,  1,  22,  24,  10,  8.— A  near  relative. 
9,  39,  35,  2,  25,  36.— Accustomed. 
3,  46,  37,  24,  13,  4,  33.— Course  of  life. 
The  whole  a  verse  of  Scripture  in  the  Old  Testa- 
ment. ALBEHT. 


No.  99.— RIDDLES. 

Animal,  nor  vegetable. 

Nor  mineral  am  I ; 
A  natural  product,  I  exist 

From  two  to  six  feet  high. 
I  am  not  she,  I  am  not  lie, 

But  just,  between  the  two; 
You'll  often  see  me  take  my  place, 

And  sometimes  hear  me  too. 
I  have  no  breadth,  I  have  n<i  length, 

I'm  neither  thin  nor  thick, 
I'm  used  to  show  a  faithful  love, 

And  mark  a  traitor's  trick. 
I'm  mentioned  oft  in  Ilnly  Writ, 

Both  in  the  Old  and  New, 
And  strongly  recommended  there 

liy  holy  men  and  true. 


No.  100 

Born  in  the  fields  as  free  as  air. 

Then  early  torn  from  home, 
And  in  the  mansions  of  the  (treat, 

A  slave  I'm  forced  to  roam. 
From  room  to  room  I  wander  there, 

But  never  go  alone, 
I'm  always  taken  by  the  hand. 

Until  my  task  is  done. 
Although  the  badge  of  royal  race, 

I'm  found  with  mean  and  poor. 
And  oft,  \viih  them,  I  hide  my  face 

Behind  the  kitchen  door. 


No.  101. 

I'm  insignificant  and  small. 

But  still  my  power  is  great; 
Before  a  barrier  stout  and  strong 
Both  force  and  strength  may  tarry  long, 

Until  I  come  at  call. 
When  with  ;i  gentle  touch  I  do 
What  all  their  might  could  not  get  through. 


Answers  to  Kinks. 

No.  95. 

1.  Mourning-bride.  2.  Weeds.  3.  Bleeding-heart. 
4.  Sweet- \Villiiim.  5.  Rose.  6.  Four-o'clock.  7. 
Phlox.  8.  Stuck.  9.  Corn.  10.  Box.  11.  Lmlv's- 
slippers.  12.  Hop.  13.  Fox-gloves.  14.  Monk- 
hoods. 15  Balm.  ]6  Hearts- ease.  17.  Thyme. 
18.  Old-mini.  19  Sage.  20.  Sweet-pease.  21  Ky«- 
bright.  3-3  Pink.  23  Tulips.  24.  Noue-so-pretty. 
25.  Matrimony. 


No.  96. 

1.— 1.  L.  2.  Dab.  3.  Dared.  4.  Launier.  5.  Be- 
ing. 6.  Deg.  7.  R. 

2.— 1.  T.  2.  Tub.  3.  Tames.  4.  Humbles.  5. 
Below.  0  Sew.  7.  S. 

3.— 1.  R  1.  Tab.  3.  Tuned.  4.  Ranters.  5.  Beery. 
6.  Dry.  7  S. 

4.—1.  S.  2.  Raw.  3.  Roted.  4.  Satanic.  5.  Wends 
6.  Dis.  7.  C. 


No.  97. 

Longfellow .— 1.  Melha.  2  Hanover.  3.  Trenton. 
4.  Niagara.  5  Buffalo.  6.  Cleveland.  7.  Holland. 
8.  Willard.  9.  Scott.  10.  Lewis. 


One  cau  be  genteel  and  neat, 
and  still  indulge  a  love  of  out-door 
sports. 

A  fall  with  nothing  worse  than 
mud  stains  is  not  serious;  Ivory 
Soap  will  remove  troublesome  spots 
and  restore  the  original  freshness 
to  a  good  piece  of  cloth. 

l'i.r,i-ni.hi   I"!I5,  The  Procter  4  Gamble  Co. 


EARN  A  TRICYCLE! 

We  wish  to  introduce  pnr 
Teas,  SpiceB,and  Baking 

Powder.  Sell  so  Ibs.  and 
we  will  give  you  a  Fairy 
Tricycle  •  sell  25  Ibs.  for 
aSoIidSuveE  Watchand 
Chain;  50  Ibs.  fora  Cold 
Watch  and  (.'hum ;  75  Ibs. 
for  a  Bicycle  ;  10  Ibs. 
for  a  Beautiful  (lold 
Ring.  Express  prepaid 
It  rush  is  sent  for  goods. 
Write  for  catalog  and 
onler  sheet. 

w.  G.  BAKER, 

SPRINGFIELD,  MASS. 


BALTIMORE!! 


-PRESS 


lias  earned  more  money  for 

than  nil  other  presses  in  the  mar- 
ket. Bi»ys,  don't  idle  nwny  your 
time  when  yon  can  buy  a  self- 
inking  printing-press,  type,  and 
complete  outfit  for  $5.00.  Write 
for  particulars,  there  is  money 
in  it,  for  you. 

THE   J.  F.  W.  I»ORMAN   CO., 
Itiiltimore,  Mil..  U.S.A. 


$100  PRIZE 

l-'.-r  IH-I  MMI. \\nid  Essuy.  Open  to  girls  under  17. 
Second  prize,  $2S.  Snlij.-rt  "Silk,"  but  essays  must 
conialn  some  reference  to  Cutter's  Little  Spool  tst'\v- 
inir  silk,  ;i n cl  is i;it emeu t  of  points  of  superiority.  <'jr- 
ciilar  of  full  pnriicnlnrs  upon  application  to  JOHN 
U.  C'UTTUU  «fc  CO.,  mnluM-H  of  Cutter's  "  Lit- 
ile  Spool  "  Sewing  Silk,  rnion  s<|ii;m>,  NowlorkCity. 

I  WONDER  CABINET  FREE.  MiMln«IJnk 

Puiile,  Devil's  B-ittLo.  Pocket  Camera,  L»UH 
Wire  Futile,  Spook  Photos,  Book  of  Sleiebtof 
Hand.  Tout  Vnlue  GOc.  Sent  free  with  immenf>« 

ipatalntruo  i>f  IiMH)  Harpninsf  fir  ll'c   fcr  fott&ec. 
IMlF.R^Ol.Li  HltU  .  ":-;.  CoTttimH  Street  N,  T. 


&  HEAD  NOISES  CURED 

b-T  niy  INVISIBLE  Tul.iilar  Cushions.  Have  helped 
more  t.i  L'""'l    IIC  AD  ><>g  than  all   other  <le- 
ea   r.u.ihineil.     Whispers  nfcMllil.    Help  ears  as  glasses 
ujes.  IMllnoox,  858B'dway,N.y.  Boot  of  proofs  FREE 


HARPER'S  NEW  CATALOGUE, 

Thoroughly  revised,  classified,  and  indexed,  will  be  sent 
by  mail  to  any  address  on  receipt  of  ten  cents. 


Harper's  Young  People  Series 

Illustrated.     Post  8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1   25  each: 


The   Mystery   of  Abel   Forefinger.      By 

WILLIAM  DKVSH  \i  i 

Raftmates. — Cauoenrates. — Campmates. 

By  KIRK  MUNROK. 

Young  Lucretia,  and  Other  Stories.     By 

MARY  E.  WILKINS. 


Prince,  and   Other  Nabobs. 


The   Moon 

By  K.  K. 

The  Midnight  Warning,  and  Other  Sto- 
ries.    liv  E.  H.  IInrsK. 


Flying    Hill   Farm. —  The    Mate   of   the 
"Mary  Anne."     By  SurniE  SWETT. 


Phil  and  the  Baby,  aud  False  'Witness 

By  Li'CY  C.  LILLIE. 

A  Boy's  Town.     By  W    I).  HOWF.LI.S. 
Diego  Finzoii.     By  J.  R.  CORYELL. 

Illustrated.     Square    16mo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1   00  each: 

Toby  Tyler. -Mr.  Stubbs's  Brother.— Tim 
and  Tip. — Left  Behind. — Raising  the 
"Pearl." — Silent  Pete.  By  |AMI>  Ol'lS. 

The  Four  Macnicols.    By  WILLIAM  BLACK. 


Wakulla.  —  The  Flamingo  Feather.  — 
Derrick  Sterling.  —  Chrystal,  Jack  & 
Co.,  and  Delta  Bixby.  —  Dorymates. 

By  KIRK  MUNKOF,. 

The    Talking    Leaves. — Two    Arrows. — 

The  Red  Mustang.    By  W.  O.  STOIIHAKI.. 

Prince   Lazybones,   arid   Other   Stories. 

By  Mrs.  \V.  J.  HAYS. 

The  Ice  Queen.     By  ERNEST  INGKKMH.L. 
Uncle    Peter's    Trust.       By    GEORGE    B. 
PERRY. 

The  Adventures  of  Jimmy  Brown. — The 
Cruise  of  the  Canoe  Club. — The  Cruise 
of  the  "Ghost."— The  Moral  Pirates. 
— The  New  Robinson  Crusoe.  By  W.  1.. 

ALDEN. 


The   Lost   City.— Into   Unknown   Seas. 

By  OAVID  KER. 

The  Story  of  Music  and  Musicians.— Jo's 
Opportunity. — Rolf  House. — Mildreds 
Bargain,  and  Other  Stories. — Nan. — 
The  Colonel's  Money. — The  Household 
of  Glen  Holly.  By  I.ICYC.  I.ILI.IE. 

Who    Was    Paul    Grayson  ?       I  ~\ 

1 1  \i;i;i  k  I  <iN. 

Captain  Polly.     By  SOPHII   Swi  i 
Strange  Stories  from  History.    By  GEORGE 

<    AkY   lifiilLESl  i  IN. 


Published  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  New  York 

The  above  i>  •  >>r  snii7  I'v  al, 

'   the  price. 

903 


"'^i^{% 

\/r, 
..f.  " .       \(£3 


IT    WAS    A    BEAUTIFUL    SCHEME,   BUT    THE    OLD    LADY    WAS    ONTO    THEIK    GAME. 


POOR  Jimmie  lisped,  and  his  teacher  entirely  misunder- 
stood his  meaning  when  he  said,  in  answer  to  her  command 
to  conjugate  the  verb  sink, "  think,  thank,  thinking,  thnuk.'' 


BOBBY.  "  I  don't  like  a  bicycle  built  for  two." 

JACK.  "You  don't!  why?"' 

BOBBY.  "  Because  it  encourages  back  talk." 


THE  OBLIGING  BEAK. 

A  lIoxKY-LOVixG  grizzly-bear, 

In  a  great  bee-tree  made  his  lair ; 

"There  is  a  law,"  he  told  the  bees, 
"That  honey  sha'n't  be  kept  in  trees. 

"  I'll  take  it  out  for  you,"  said  he. 

"Nay,  nay,  sir,"  cries  the  old  queen  bee, 

"Take  yourself  off!"  and  then  and  there 
The  stinging  bees  fell  on  the  bear. 


HE  WANTS  TO  KNOW. 

TOMMY  TRADDLES.  "  Papa,  you  call  that  little  bit  of  a 
tiny  wee  engine  a  donkey-engine,  don't  you?" 
MR.  TRADDLES.  "  Yes,  my  boy." 

TOMMY.  "Well,  papa,  won't  that  donkey-engine  have  to 
grow  a  great  deal  bigger  before  it  can  have  any  horse- 
power f" 

• 

"PAPA,  I've  got  some  mending  for  you  to  do.  My  roller- 
skates  are  broken." 

"  Well,  put  them  away  till  morning.  It's  too  late  to  mend 
anything  now." 

"Why!  you  said  this  morning  that  it  was  never  too  late 
to  mend." 


BECKY  WOOD. 

BAREFOOT,  pit-a-pat,  pious,  poor,  and  good, 

Walking  to  the  Meeting-House  was  little  Becky  Wood. 

Up  rode  great  William  Penu  :  "Little  girl,"  quoth  In-. 

"Jump  upon  my  palfrey  here  and  ride  along  with  me." 

Trot,  trot,  canter,  canter,  all  along  the  street, 

William  Peuu  took  Becky  Wood  with  her  bare  brown  feet, 

Trot,  trot,  canter,  canter,  to  the  very  door. 

Never  was  a  barefoot  girl  quite  so  proud  before. 


A   BLUNDER  AND  NO   MISTAKE. 

JABEZ  (slapping  Ichabod  OH  the  back).  "  Hello  Tony  !" 
ICHABOD  (u-liiciiig).  "But  I'm  not  Tony." 
JABKZ  (discovering  liis  error).    "Oh,  I   beg   pardon.     I 
thought  you  were  another  fellow." 
ICHABOD.  "And  so  I  am." 


IT  SEEMS   SO. 

"PAPA, "said  Harry,  "  when  a  boy  keeps  on  doing  some- 
thing wrong  of  his  own  accord  he's  wilful,  isn't  he  f" 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Rigid. 

"Thfii  if  he  doesn't  do  nothing  of  nobody  else's  accord, 
he's  woutful,  isn't  he  f ' 


THK  following   extracts  are   from   examination    papers 
recently  handed  in  :it  a  public  school  in  Connecticut  : 

1.  From  what  animals  do  we  get  milk  f     From  the  camel 
and  the  milkman. 

2.  The  hen  is  covered  with  feathers.     With  what  is  the 
cat  covered?     The  cat  is  covered  with  fleas. 

3.  Name  an  animal  that  has  four  legs  and  a  long  tail. 
A  mosquito. 

4.  Name  two  kinds  of  nuts.       Peanuts  and  for-get-me- 
rjuts. 


904 


HARPERS 

UNO  TABLE 


n 


Copyright,  1895,  by  HARPBB  &  BROTHERS.     All  Rights  Reserved. 


PUBLISHED     WEKKLY. 
VOL-   XVI- — NO.  828, 


NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY.  SEPTEMBER  10,  1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO   DOLLARS   A    TEAR. 


HOW     REDDY    GAINED     HIS    COMMISSION. 


BY  CAPTAIN   CHARLES   A.  CURTIS,  U.S.A. 


Part  fi. 

GUARD-MOUNTING  was  over.  The  commanding  officer 
in  the  Adjutant's  office  was  occupied  with  tlie  daily 
routine  business  of  a  frontier  post.  At  tables  near  him  sat 
the  Post- Adjutant,  the  acting  Sergeant-Major,  and  a  soldier 
clerk,  writing  and  making  up  the  semi- weekly  mail  for  the 
post-office  beyond  the  neighboring  river. 

Upon  a  bench  outside  the  door,  serving  his  tour  as  office 
orderly,  lounged  a  boy  musician.  He  leaned  listlessly 
against  the  wall  of  the  building,  apparently  oblivious  to 
the  grandeur  of  the  views  around  him.  To  the  south, 
across  an  undulating  plain,  seventy  miles  away,  were  the 
twin  Spanish  Peaks.  To  the  west,  the  Cuerno  Vnde  range 
let  itself  down  to  the  plain  by  a  succession  of  lesser  elevs 
tions,  terminating  in  rounded  foot-hills,  forty  miles  distant. 
Eighty  miles  to  the  northwest  the  forest  and  granite  clad 
form  of  Pikes  Peak  towered  in  majesty. 

The  fort  was  occupied  by  a  troop  of  cavalry  and  a  com 
pany  of  infantry,  the  Captain  of  the  infantry  being  in  com- 
mand.    This   officer  was  now  attaching   bis   signature  t 
various    military  documents.     When    the  last   paper 
signed  the  young  orderly  entered,  and,  standing  at  "att< 
tiou  "  before  the  Captain,  said, 

"  Sir,  my  mother  would  like  to  speak  to  the  comman 


"Very  well,  Maloney  ;  take  these  papers  to  the  quarter- 
master and  the  surgeon,  and  tell  your  mother  to  come  in." 

The  orderly  departed,  anil  soon  aftrr  a  ruddy-faced  and 
substantial-featured  daughter  of  Erin  entered,  ber  >lrr\  rs 
rolled  above  her  elbows,  and  her  vigorous  hand.-.  sh.. «inn 
the  soft,  moist,  and  wrinkled  appraranre  that  indicates 
recent  and  long-continued  contact  with  the  contents  of  the 
wash-tub.  Dropping  a  courtesy,  sin-  said, 

••  <  'an  the  commanding  officer  spare  me  a  fe\\  minutes  of 
his  toime  .'" 

-  With  pleasure.  Sergeant-Ma.]. .1.  plan-  a  chair  for  Mrs. 
Maloney,"  said  Captain  Bartlett. 

"  Oi  want  to  spake  a  wiu-md  about  me  b'y  '[V.I.I 

"What  is  it  about  your  son  .'  I'ors  he  need  disciplin- 
ing ?v 

Seating  li.-i-.rir  upon  the  edge  of  the  proffered  chair,  the 
Irish  woman  clasped  her  moist  hands  in  her  hip.  and  said, 

••  Small  doubt  but  he  nades  dis.'i/diniug.  Captain  :  but  it 
is  of  the  great  danger  to  his  loife  in  .•arryin'  tli'  mail  oi 
want  t'  spake." 

"A  mother's  nervous  fear,  perhaps.     11.  cellent 

horseman.      Von  are  not  afraid  he  will  be  thro 

"Oh,  not  at    ahl.  at    alii.  sor.     He    sfhick*   to  the  mm 
[oike   a   bur-r-r.      I    bi  inckiu'  bast. 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


It's  that  roarin'  river  oi'm  afeared  of.  The  min  at  the  hny- 
camp,  whose  business  it  is  to  row  the  mail  acrass  the  strame, 
let  Teddy  and  Eeddy  do  it,  do  ye  know,  sor,  and  oi  fear  in 
the  prisint  stage  of  the  wathcr.  ami  the  dispisition  of  the 
h'\s  to  be  larkin'  in  the  boat,  they'll  overset  it,  and  be 
dhrowned." 

"  Arc  you  quite  sure  the  hoys  use  the  boat  ?"  asked  the 
Captain. 

••  I  \  'ry  mail-day  for  the  last  two  wakes,  sor." 

"And  you  really  think  them  iu  danger,  Mrs.  Maloney  ? 
I  am  sure  they  both  swim." 

"That's  jist  it,  sor!  They're  not  contint  to  ro\v  quiately 
over  loike  min,  but  they  must  thry  all  sorts  of  antics  with 
th'  boat.  'Rowin' aich  other  round' is  one  of 'em.  Whin 
oi  spake  about  it  they  says  they  can  swim.  Small  chance 
aven  a  good  swimmer  would  have  in  that  roariu'  river,  with 
its  ijuicksands,  its  snags,  and  its  bars." 

"  Well,  I  will  order  the  hay-camp  detail  to  do  the  boat- 
ing hereafter,  Mrs.  Maloney  ;  so  you  need  have  no  further 
anxiety ." 

"Thank  you,  sor.  It's  no  liss  than  oi  expicted  from  a 
koindly  and  considerate  gintlenian  loike  th'  Captain.  Oi 
hope  you'll  overlook  a  mother's  anxiety  and  worrimint 
over  her  only  b'y.  It's  not  mesilf  would  be  interfarin'  with 
the  commanding  officer's  duties,  but  oi  kuowed  that  you 
niver  mint  for  Beddy  and  Teddy  to  be  rowin'  that  bit  of  a 
skift,  whin  it  belonged  to  the  miu  at  the  hay-camp  to  do 
the  same.  Good-day,  sor,  and  many  thanks  for  your  kind- 
ness, Captain."  And  with  much  ceremonious  leave-taking 
the  laundress  backed  out  of  the  office  and  hurried  back  to 
her  tubs. 

"Mr.  Dayton,"  said  the  commanding  officer,  "write  Cor- 
poral Dutfey  to  hereafter  allow  no  person  not  .'c  member  of 
his  party  to  row  the  mail-boat  across  the  river,  unless  he 
brings  authority  from  this  office." 

"  'i  is,  sir." 

The  letter  had  been  written  and  sealed  when  Teddy  re- 
turned, having  changed  the  full-dress  coat  and  helmet  of 
guard-mounting  for  a  blouse,  forage-cap,  and  leather  leg- 
gings. Nearly  an  hour  before  his  drum  had  rattled  an 
exhilarating  accompaniment  to  the  fife,  as  the  guard  of 
twelve  privates'  and  three  non  -  commissioned  officers 
marched  in  review  and  turned  oil  to  the  guard-bouse.  Now 
he  stood  at  the  door  with  spurred  heels  and  gauntleted 
hands,  ready  to  receive  the  mail-pouch  and  ride  his  little 
zebra-marked  mule  to  the  crossing,  two  miles  from  the  fort. 

The  Sergeant-Major  handed  him  the  pouch  and  the  letter 
addressed  to  the  corporal,  with  this  injunction: 

"Von  are  to  deliver  this  letter  to  Corporal  Dnffey  at 
the  hay-camp,  and  he  will  give  you  some  instructions  which 
you  are  to  carefully  obey." 

Slinging  the  pouch  over  his  shoulder,  and  tucking  the 
letter  under  his  waist-belt,  the  boy  went  to  his  mnle  behind 
the  office,  mounted,  and  rode  away.  Passing  the  quarter- 
master's corral,  another  boy,  similarly  attired,  and  mounted 
on  a  piebald  mustang,  dashed  out  with  a  whoop,  and  the 
two  went  cantering  down  the  slope  to  the  meadow  be- 
low. 

Arriving  side  by  side  at  a  soapweed  which  marked  the 
southern  limit  of  the  river-bottom,  the  boys  put  their  beasts 
to  the  height  of  their  speed,  and  rode  for  a  dead  cotton- 
wood  which  raised  its  bleached  and  barkless  branches  be- 
side the  road  three  hundred  yards  beyond. 

This  stretch  was  raced  over  every  mail-day,  with  varying 
victory  for  horse  and  mule.  To-day  the  mule  reached  the 
tree  half  a  length  ahead,  and  Teddy  was  consequently  iu 
high  glee. 

"Ah,  Eeddy,  my  boy!"  he  shouted.  "  Eight  times  to  your 
six!  Better  swap  that  pony  for  a  inule,  if  you  want  to 
stand  any  chance  with  Puss!" 

"Pshaw!  You  were  nearly  a  length  ahead  when  we 
readied  the  soapweed,  and  I  almost  made  it  up.  Brouc  can 
beat  Puss  any  time  when  they  start  even." 

"I  should  say  so!"  with  great  disdain.  "How  about 
I  hat  day  when  you  got  oft'  a  length  and  a  half  ahead,  and  I 
led  yon  half  a  neck  at  the  cottonwool  .'" 

••  Vou  mean  the  day  Bronc  got  a  stone  iu  his  shoe  ?  Of 
course  he  couldn't  run  then." 


The  two  young  soldiers  rode  on  at  an  easy  canter,  warmly 
disputing,  for  the  hundredth  time,  over  the  merits  of  their 
well -matched  animals. 

Redmond  Carter  was  the  fifer,  as  Edward  Maloney  was 
the  drummer,  of  the  infantry  company.  The  latter,  the  son 
of  a  laundress,  was  a  graceful  and  soldierly  hoy,  dark-com- 
plexioned, with  black  eyes  and  hair,  who  bestrode  his  mule 
with  easy  confidence,  riding  like  a  Cossack.  The  other 
boy,  a  blond-haired,  blue-eyed  lad  of  the  same  age,  quite  as 
tall,  but  more  delicately  built,  showed  less  reckless  activity 
in  the  saddle,  but  he  was  a  fine  and  graceful  equestrian 
nevertheless.  He  had  enlisted  a  year  before,  in  Philadel- 
phia, naming  that  city  as  his  residence;  but  certain  pe- 
culiarities of  speech  led  Captain  Bartlett  to  believe  him  a 
New-Englauder.  He  used  better  language  than  his  fellows, 
and  it  seemed  he  had  received  good  school  advantages  be- 
fore entering  the  army. 

For  instance,  one  day  when  it  was  Carter's  turn  to  be 
office  orderly,  while  sitting  at  the  door  he  overheard  Cap- 
tain Bartlett,  who  was  writing  a  private  letter,  ask  the 
Adjutant,  "  How  does  that  Latin  quotation  run,  Dayton — 
'  Timeo  Ilitnit/is  ct  dona  ferentes,'  or  '  Dunaos  iimeo  ft  cluiia 
ferenies?'" 

"Blest  if  I  know  We  don't  waste  time  on  dead  lan- 
guages at  the  Point,  as  you  college  men  do.  I  can  give  you 
the  equation  of  a  parabola  if  you  want  it." 

Captain  Bartlett  did  not  ask  for  the  equation,  or  explain, 
his  reason  for  wanting  the  proper  order  of  the  Latin  sen- 
tence, but,  the  morning's  office  work  concluded,  and  the 
orderly  having  departed,  as  he  and  the  Adjutant  were 
passing  out  of  the  doorway  the  latter  noticed  a  leaf  of  a 
memorandum-pad  lodged  against  the  leg  of  the  bench  just 
vacated.  A  drawing  on  its  surface  attracting  his  atten- 
tion, lie  picked  it  np.  It  was  a  very  creditable  sketch  of  a 
huge  wooden  horse  standing  within  the  wall  of  an  ancient 
city,  and  a  party  of  Grecian  soldiers  in  the  act  of  descend- 
ing by  a  ladder  from  an  opening  in  its  side.  Beneath  tin- 
drawing  \\  as  written  "  tjitirqiiid  id  cut,  time/)  Utiiiiiox  rt  ilniiii 
fi'rciites.—JEaehl,  II.,  4'J." 

"  Here,  Captain,"  said  Mr.  Dayton,  handing  the  paper  to 
the  post  commander;  "here's  the  answer  to  your  ques- 
tion." 

"What — that  boy  Carter?  How  does  a  boy  like  that 
come  to  be  a  musician  in  the  army?" 

"Can't  tell.  Probably  for  the  same  reason  that  an  occa- 
sional graduate  of  a  foreign  university  turns  up  in  the 
ranks — hard  times  and  want  in  civil  life,  and  plenty  of 
clothing  and  food  in  military  life." 

"He  is  indeed  a  bright  boy,  and  I  have  noticed  a  certain 
refinement  of  manner  and  precision  of  speech  not  common 
to  men  in  the  ranks.  1  must  inquire  about  him." 

The  two  "music  boys,"  Teddy  and  Eeddy,  were  fast 
friends  and  constant  companions.  They  made  common 
cause  in  all  quarrels  and  disputes,  and  to  ill-treat  one  was 
to  ill-treat  both.  Teddy  was  frequently  in  trouble,  and  his 
friend  often  pleaded  for  him  at  headquarters.  Indeed,  the 
Adjutant  frequently  declared  that  "but  for  that  rampage- 
ous young  Celt,  Carter  would  never  be  in  trouble."  He 
was  quiet  by  nature,  and  punctilious  iu  the  observance  of 
the  most  exacting  requirements  of  discipline  j  while  Teddy, 
through  carelessness,  was  now  and  then  subjected  to  pun- 
ishment. Mrs.  Malouey,  while  bestowing  a  tender  mother's 
love  upon  her  darling  son,  entertained  a  kindly  regard  miu- 
gled  with  great  respect  for  his  friend,  and  looked  after 
Reddy's  clothing  and  belongings  quite  as  carefully  as  after 
Teddy's. 

Eeddy  divided  the  duty  of  mail-carrier  and  office  orderly 
with  his  fellow-musician,  yet  it  rarely  happened  that  one 
rode  without  the  other's  company.  An  indulgent  corral- 
master  had  obtained  the  consent  of  the  quartermaster  to 
allow  two  '-surplus  animals"  to  be  used  exclusively  by  the 
boys,  provided  they  would  take  care  of  them. 

On  reaching  the  river  the  boys  drew  up  before  two 
tents  pitched  in  a  small  grove  of  cottonwoods  upon  the 
Brassy  hank,  and  occupied  by  a  corporal  and  three  privates, 
whose  duty  it  was  to  keep  the  cattle  of  the  neighboring 
ranchmen  from  trespassing  upon  the  meadows  of  the  mil- 
itary reservation. 


906 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


The  lads  dismounted,  Teddy  going  to  the  corporal's  tent 
to  deliver  the  Adjutant's  letter.  But  the  corporal  was  not 
in,  having  gone  with  two  of  his  men  to  drive  some  cattle 

olll    of  (lie    bottom. 

"  I  will  take  the  letter  to  Corporal  Duffcy,  Ted,"  said  Ucd- 
moml,  "  while  you  row  over  with  the  mail-bag.  Row  well 
up  .-i  ream  before  you  attempt  to  cross,  so  as  not  to  get 
sucked  into  the  rapids." 

"  All  right,"  replied  the  orderly  ;  "  and  when  I  come  back 
we'll  sec  which  can  row  the  other  round." 

"That's  already  settled.  I  rowed  you  round  the  last 
two  times,"  said  Reddy. 

'•  Yes;  one  day  when  my  wrist  was  lame,  and  the  other 
when  I  had  cut  my  thumb." 

"  Anything  ail  you  to-day  ?" 

"  I  believe  not." 

''Then  we  will  try  it  again  ;  and  be  sure  if  I  row  yon 
round,  yon  are  not  to  lay  your  defeat  to  sprains,  cuts,  or 
rheumatism." 

Redmond  remounted  his  pony  and  started  into  the 
meadow,  while  Teddy,  having  picketed  his  mule,  stepped 
into  a  neat  wherry  tied  to  the  bank.  He  was  not.  uncon- 
scious that  he  was  disobeying  orders,  for  his  mot  her  had 
told  him  the  result  of  her  interview  with  the  commanding 
ofiieer:  but  the  order  was  not  officially  published,  and  he 
wanted  to  have  one  last  pull  on  the  river. 

It  was  in  July,  the  season  of  freshets  in  streams  having 
their  sources  in  the  Rocky  Mountains,  when  tlie  wanner 
the  weather  the  faster  the  snows  melt  and  the  deeper  ami 
more  rapid  the  stream.  The  silt -laden  current  swept 
swiftly  down  the  middle  stream,  swelling  into  rolling 
waves,  which  caught  the  soldier  hoy's  oars  as  the  boat  rose 
on  their  crests  and  sank  in  their  troughs. 

li'eaching  the  other  side,  he  carried  the  mail -punch  to 
the  overland  stage  station,  and  returned  to  the  boat.  Re- 
peating the  precaution  of  rowing  up  stream  before  ventur- 
ing to  cross,  he  arrived  at  the  tents  just  as  Reddy  returned 
from  an  unsuccessful  search  for  the  corporal. 

The  Adjutant's  letter  was  left  in  the  tent,  Bronc  picketed. 
and  the  boy.-,  drew  lots  for  the  oars.  Teddy  won  the 
choice,  ami  selected  the  bow.  The  contest  was  to  maintain 
an  even-time  stroke,  and  see  which  could  turn  the  boat 
toward  his  opponent  —  "  pnll  him  round,"  as  the  phrase 
is. 

Bare  loo  ted,  barelegged,  bareheaded,  and  coatless,  the  boys 
stepped  into  the  boat.  Confident  in  their  united  strength, 
they  did  not  row  up  the  eddy,  but  pulled  directly  from  the 
shore,  beginning  the  struggle  from  the  start.  The  wherry 
leaped  ahead,  refusing  to  turn  to  the  right  or  left.  The 
boys  were  evidently  as  well  matched  as  their  mounts, Puss 
and  Brouc. 

The  boat  rose  and  fell  in  the  current  waves,  and  the  oars 
tripped  and  splashed  in  the  roily  crests,  until  there  sud- 
denly came  a  sharp  snap,  and  Teddy  fell  backward,  hold- 
ing aloft  the  bladeless  half  of  an  oar.  Reddy  ceased  row- 
ing; the  skiff  lost  headway  and  floated  down  the  river. 

In  the  confusion  of  the  accident  neither  boy  saw  a  threat- 
ening danger.  In  the  middle  of  the  river  was  the  trunk  of 
a  dead  cotton  wood,  standing  at  an  angle  of  forty-live  de- 
grees, its  roots  firmly  anchored  to  the  bottom.  The  boat 
il.iateil  against  the  snag, striking  amidships.  Its  starboard 
side  rose,  its  port  side  lowered,  the  water  poured  over  the 
gunwale,  and  in  an  instant  Teddy  was  clinging  to  the  trunk, 
and  Reddy  swimming  in  the  boiling  current.  The  boat 
hung  for  a  moment,  as  if  uudecided  whether  to  drop  to  the 
right  or  left  of  the  snag,  twisting  and  struggling  in  the 
Berce  tide,  and  at  last  slid  off  astern  and  floated  away 
down-stream. 

A  foot  above  the  water  was  a  large  knot  and  a  swell  in 
the  trunk  of  the  tree.  Teddy  climbed  above  this,  and  sat 
astride  of  il,  clasping  the  trunk  in  his  arms.  He  was  at 
Brsl  in, dined  to  treat  the  accident  with  bravado,  and  he 
waved  a  hand  above  bis  head  and  shouted;  but  the  sight 
of  l.vddy  lloaling  towards  the  rapids  froze  his  utterance 
anil  pnralvzcd  his  arm. 

It  was  plainly  impossible  for  his  comrade  to  swim  to  the 
shore— he  was  too  near  the  dangerous  fall— but  he  hoped 
he  might  reach  the  jam  in  the  middle  of  it.-,  crest 


AT    THE    SKA-SIDE. 
a  Suggestion  for  n  Summer  Entertainment. 

BY  CAROLINE    A.   rREEVEY   AND    M  \  l;<;.\  I;KT    K.   SANOSTER. 
I'llARACTERS: 

CHARLOTTE  HmVAl-.i..  loner    K\KRTIIN. 

Vu:T"i:[A   MAM.N  HKI.KN    SA^KKS. 

Il>,\   MOC.KK.  Mr-v   S..vi  MI  1:1  IRI.II. 

OLIVE  BRANDON.  i 

MADOK  FULLER  CAPTAIN  JAKE. 

SCENE. — A  miniiiu/r-liodse  n»  the  l><n<l>,  in  I'm,,/  ,,/  II,,    .!/„//,.. 

wan  Hotel. 
OCCASION. — A  relii-tirxiil  for   it  n  i  n  I,  rlnni  m-'iit    I,,    I,,    i/in-n  in 

the  hotel  parlors  for  Hit-  him  Hi  <;/'  iln-  N<«-.MI/,   Home. 
PHESENT.— Charlotte,  Victoria,  Ida,  Olive,  Gi:n  .-. 

I'iiinriit.  What    a    perfectly   glorious     afternoon,   girls! 
The   sunshine  is  dazzling.      The  surf  is   music  itself;    tin- 
sails   out   yonder   are    so    white;    and    the-    air!    I    canno 
breathe    it    into  my  lungs  deep  enough.      There's  no  place 
like  the  sea-side  after  all. 

Chnrlnttf.  Mamma  is  begging  papa  to  take  her  to  the 
mountains. 

Ida.  Oh,  what  a  shame!  Just  as  we  are  getting  so  well 
acquainted,  and  can  plan  so  many  nice  things  to  do.  It 
would  be  wicked  for  you  to  leave  us. 

Victoria.  Have  you  met  that  new  arrival,  Miss  I>ais\ 
James?  She's  English,  you  know.  She  talks  about  her 
boxes,  not  trunks. 

Olive.  She  has  luggage,  not  baggage. 

Iiln.  Yes,  I  was  talking  to  her.  She's  funny.  She  says 
there  isn't  any  Gulf  Stream.  Says  the  Captain  of  her  steamer 
has  sailed  for  thirty  years,  and  has  never  seen  it.  So,  if 
you  please,  the  Gulf  Stream  "is  a  myth." 

Grace  She's  the  most  disdainful  thing,  and  uses  such 
queer  words!  She  says  raw  clams  are  "nasty."  and  she 
called  bananas  "those  beans.'' 

OUre.  Perhaps  she  will  improve  on  acquaintance.  We 
mustn't  be  too  hard  on  her. 

I'li/n-Iotte.  Where  are  all  the  girls?  We  ought  to  begin 
our  rehearsal. 

I'ietoria.  There's  Madge  Fuller  now.    She  has  that  sweet- 
looking  young  lady  who  played  so  beautifully  with  her. 
Enter  Madge  Fuller  and  Miss  Sommerrield. 

JI/OT/</f.  Halloa,  girls!     Am  I  late?     I  was  reading,  and  I 

almost   forgot  our  rehearsal.      But   I  have    brought   :i    n 

recruit.     Miss  Sommerfield,  girls.     Miss  Howard,  Miss  M; 
son,  Miss  Moore,  Miss  Brandon,  and  Miss  Everton. 

Grace.  Otherwise  Charlotte,  Victoria  or  Vic,  Ida,  Olive, 
and  myself,  Grace.  No  airs.  Madge. 

Olire.  We  are  so  glad  you  asked  Miss  Sommerfield  to 
help  us,  Madge  dear. 

Mi**  XuiiiiiH'rJii'lil.  I  will  help,  but  don't  let  me  intrude 
What  are  your  ideas  of  an  entertainment  .' 

llnirr.  Ideas  are  just  what  we  are  after.  The  only  set- 
tled thing  is  that  the  tickets  are  to  be  fifty  cents. 

c/iiirliitlf.  We  thought  we  would  each  recite  or  read 
something.  Original  preferred.  The  object  is  the  Sea-side 
Home. 

Miss  Sommerficld.  It  is  a  lovely  object.  I  went  all  over 
the  one  on  Seney  Island. 

Virtoria.  Oh.  then  yon  can  tell  us  about  it. 

Mixx  Siiinnnrtii'lil.  They  take  sick  children  and  babj. 
two  weeks.      The  house  is  large  and  clean,  and  quite  near 
the  water.     Verandas  go  around  three  sides  on  evcr\ 
All  the  bedrooms  open  on  to  these  verandas,  and  there,  in 
the  open  air,  the  babies  are  \\  heeled,  or  rocked,  or  swung  in 
hammocks.     So  they  breathe  that  invigorating  air  day  and 
niii'lit.      The  older  children,  as  soon  as  they  are  aide,  die    n 

the  sand,  sheltered  by  tents.      They  ha\e   plenty  of  •_: I 

milk  to  drink,  bread  and  hi  si1  nit.  oatmeal  and  unit  I  on  broth. 
The  mothers  have,  in  addition,  meat,  potatoes,  tea.  and 
coffee.  The  babies  pick  up  surprisingly.  They  L"  av,  ,.\ 
rosy  and  hearty.  Many  a  life  is  saved 

nlii-i'.  What  a  pity  they  must  go  aua\. 

Charlotte.  Well,  a  fortniulit  is  better  than  nothing.  Isn't 
it  the  sweetest  of  charities  '  1  am  sure  everybody  in  the, 
hotel  will  f e  h.  our  entertainment. 

M]XH  SoHinii-rtiflii.  1  heard  one  of  the  nurses  sinj 
laby  while  rocking    some  darling  twin   bahic*   to  sleep. 


907 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


thought  it  so  pretty  I  have  remembered  it.   Would  you  like 
to  hear  it  ? 

All.  Please  do.     Yes,  indeed. 

[Miss  Sommerfielil  repeats  lullaliy. 

By-by,  babies,  hushaby, 

Night  and  sleep  are  drawing  nigh, 

Little  birdies  seek  the  nest, 

Tired  lambkins  drop  to  rest, 

By-by,  babies,  hushaby, 

Stars  are  lighting  up  the  sky, 

Angels  come  to  watch  your  beds ; 

Slumber,  little  curly-heads. 

Enter  Heleu  Sayres  and  Daisy  James. 
Helen.  Good-afternoon,  girls.     I  am  awfully  late,  but  I 
met  Miss  James  and  got  talking  to  her,  and  didn't  realize 
how  time  was  passing.     Miss  James,  young  ladies. 

[All  nod  rattier  stiffly.  Miss  Sommerfield  extends  her 
hand,  and  Miss  James  touches  it  with  the  tijis  of  her 
fingers. 

Miss  James.  So  happy,  I  am  sure.     I  was  quite  by  me- 
self,  do  you  know,  and  Miss  Sayres  kindly  spoke  to  me. 
Do  you  not  find  it  rather  lonely  here  ? 
Olire.  Oh,  not  at  all. 

Victoria.  It's  simply  perfect.  We  all  know  each  other, 
and  how  could  we  be  lonely? 

Miss  James.  You  all  know  each  other?  Just  fancy!  A 
party  of  girls  travelling  together.  How  very  odd ! 

Olire.  No,  Miss  James,  we  have  made  each  other's  ac- 
quaintance since  we  came  here.  But  American  girls  get 
acquainted  easily. 

Miss  James.  Only  fancy  that,  now!  It  is  truly  a  demo- 
cratic country.  In  England,  you  know,  at  the  watering- 
places,  I  stay  with  mamma  a  whole  season,  and  we  never 
speak  to  strangers.  Mamma  is  very  particular. 

Madge.  Well,  Miss  James,  to  make  you  feel  easier  about 
us,  we  will  give  you  references. 

Miss  James.  I  dare  say  you  :ire  all  right.  But  in  Eng- 
land it  is  so  different,  so  much  more  established,  you  know. 
This  is  the  land  of  the  people. 

Grace.  Have  you  been  to  Chicago  ? 
Miss  James.  No ;  but  we  are  going  there,  of  course. 
Grace.  Chicago  is  tine,  when  you  get  there;  but  it's  dan- 
gerous travelling.     Great  herds  of  buffalo  wander  on  the 
plains,  and  bands  of  Indians  lie  in  ambush  for  the  trains. 
Miss  James.  Only  fancy  !     How  do  the  trains  ever  pass  ? 
Grace.  It  all  depends  on  your  engineer.     If  he  under- 
stands his  business,  he  shoots  at  lightning  speed  through 
Indians  and  buffaloes.     But  you  can't  feel  quite  safe  till 
you  get  there. 

Miss  James.  I  must  tell  mamma  of  this.  I  am  sure  she 
will  not  go. 

Miss  Sommerfield.  We  should  go  on  with  our  prepara- 
tions, girls.  Has  anybody  a  suggestion  to  make? 

Helen.  I  have  an  idea.  We  have  among  the  hotel  guests 
a  fine  pianist.  Perhaps  he  would  play  for  us. 

Grace.  You  mean  that  gloomy-looking  man  with  such  a 
name? 

Olire.  With  a  long  mustache,  and  eyes  with  white  in 
them? 

Helen.  Speak  of  him  respectfully.  He  plays  like  an. 
angel. 

Victoria.  What's  his  name  ? 
Helen.  Stradelerewsky. 

Charlotte.  Oh,  horrors!     Say  it  again  slowly. 
Helen.  Strad-e-  (think  of  the  Stradivarius  fiddle)  le-rewsky 
(think  of  PaderewiTcy).     Now,  say  it  altogether. 
All.  Strad-e-le-rew-sky. 

Charlotte.  That  name  alone  on  the  programme  would  be 
worth  the  price  of  admission. 

Victoria.  Well,  who's  going  to  bell  the  cat? 
.)/;»* -.lames.  Beg  your  pardon  ?     What  cat  ? 
Grace.  She   means   who   is  going   to  ask   that  scowling 
ever-with-a-cigar-in-his-mouth  musician  to  play  for  us. 

.l/;*s  James.  I  prefer  not  to.  I  have  uot  been  introduced, 
and  mamma — 

Grace.  Will  you, Miss  Sommerfield? 

Miss  Sommerfield.  Oh  yes,  I  have  been  introduced. 

Grace.  Is  he  French? 


Victoria.  No  ;  unmistakably  Italian. 
Hi  li  ii.  Or  Polish,  or  Russian,  or  some  sort  of  a  Slav. 
Miss  Sommerfield.  Russian,  I  think.     He  speaks  English 
and  French. 

Ida.     Did  you  talk  French  with  him? 
Miss  Sommerfield.  Yes. 

Ida.  I  wish  I  could  speak  French.   I  can't  even  conjugate 
avoir. 

Miss  James.  It  is  easy:/«i,  tit  es,  il — 
Ida.  Oh,  please,  Miss  Sommerfield,  go  now,  there's  a  dear, 
and  speak  English,  so  that  you  can  report  what  he  says. 

Miss   Sommerfield.     All   right.      I  go.     There's  no   time 
like  the  present.  [Exit. 

Grace.  Madge,  she's  a  darling. 
Madge.  I  knew  you  would  like  her. 

Charlotte.  Girls,  let's  go  on  with  our  rehearsal.  Has  any 
one  found  a  poem,  or  written  one,  for  this  occasion  ? 

Olire..  I  have  found  a  dainty  thing  on  sea-weeds.  Will 
you  hear  it  ? 

Madije.  Please,  dear. 
Olire  (reads) : 

The  violet  gems  the  forest, 
The  daisy  stars  the  field, 
And  every  wayside  bank  and  brook 

Their  fragrant  treasures  yield. 
Oh,  sweet  the  air  of  summer, 

With  thoughts  of  God  in  flowers! 
For  bloom  and  beauty  hand  in  hand 
Walk  down  the  passing  hours. 

But  naught,  dear  child,  is  fairer, 

Nor  lovelier  tinting  shows, 
Than  those  fair  things  which  cradled  are 

Where  oft  the  storm-wind  blows. 
The  sea-weed's  hues  are  rarer 

Than  painter's  art  can  trace; 
And  only  fairy  looms  can  weave 

The  sea-weed's  floating  lace. 

.  Helen.  Why,  Olive,  that's  just  sweet.    Where  did  you  find 
it? 

Olire.  In  my  mother's  day-book.  Mother  writes  a  poem 
now  and  then,  and  locks  it  up  in  her  drawer.  She  says  it 
isn't  good  enough  to  publish. 

Victoria.  It  is  good  enough.     The  magazines  print  a  lot 
of  things  not  so  good  as  that. 
Olire.  Thank  you. 

Victoria.  Girls,  do  you  want  anything  funny?  My  bro- 
ther Charlie  dashed  off  some  rollicking  lines  for  me  last 
night. 

Charlotte.  Oh  yes.     Let's  have  something  funny. 
Victoria.  It's  arrant  nonsense. 
Mad  <ie  : 

"A  little  nonsense  now  and  then," 

Said  good  old  Dr.  Lee, 
"Is  relished  by  the  best  of  men. 
That's  just  the  case  with  me." 

The  doctor  was  jumping  a  rope  when  he  said  that. 
Victoria,  (readx)  : 

ODE   TO    A    CLAM. 
Oh  !  clam  at  high-water, 
Here's  somebody's  daughter 

A  sighing  and  crying  your  measure  to  take  ; 
She  cares  for  you  only, 
Poor  bivalve  so  lonely, 

Because  you  are  good  in  a  Yankee  clambake. 
Perhaps  she'll  shout  louder 
To  see  you  in  chowder. 
Poor  clam,  for  your  sake 
I've  a  dreadful  heart-ache. 

Charlotte.  Capital.  We  wouldn't  miss  that  for  anything. 
Who  else  is  ready  ? 

Ida.  I  have  a  little  poem  about  a  shell.  [Itcud*. 

What  is  the  song  you  are  singing  forever, 

8;ul  as  the  sound  of  a  knell, 

Deep  as  the  tone  of  a  bell, 

Oh  !  sorrowful,  murmuring  shell, 
Singing  and  singing  forever? 


(Iraee.   Mine  is  about  sweet  charity. 


[Beads. 


908 


"WAAL.  ONE   NIGHT    I    WAR   ON    DECK    ALONE." 


Of  all  things  touched  with  heavenly  clarity, 

There's  nothing  can  compare  with  sweet,  sweet  charitv! 

Charlotte.  Girls,  we  ought  to  have  some  singing.     Do  you 
know  that  old  tune, "  Home  Again  "  f  Why  not  sing  that?  It 
will  please  the  older  ones,  and  seem  a  compliment  to  them. 
It  might  do  for  the  last  thing  on  the  programme. 
Ida.  That's  beautiful. 

Mm/, /i.  .Sing  the  tune,  Charlotte,  aud  let  me  catch  the 
rhythm.  [Charlotte  and  the  others  sing. 

Home  again,  home  again, 
From  a  foreign  shore ; 
And,  oh !  it  fills  my  soul  with  jov 
To  see  my  friends  once  more. 

Enter  Miss  Soiumerlield. 

All.  Oh,  Miss  Sommerh'eld!  Did  you  see  him  f  Will  he? 
What  did  he  say  ?  Did  he  hypnotize  you  ? 

Mian  Siiuniierfti'ln.  One  at  a  time,  youug  ladies.  Let  me 
tell  my  story,  please.  I  found  this  wonderful  mau  just 
where  I  hail  left  him.  I  said,  "Professor."  He  started, 
kicked  over  a  chair,  threw  away  his  cigarette,  stared  at  me, 
and  said,  "  Pardon,  niees,  I  was  so  rude."  "Not  at  all,  Pro- 
fessor," I  said ;  "  I  am  sorry  to  interrupt  your  reading."  "  I 
am  most  happy  to  be  interrupted  by  a  so  charmaut  a  young 
lady."  IIB  said,  gallantly. 

G-race.  That  was  uice  in  him. 

Minx  Xuiiiinerjield.  So  then  I  told  him  about  you  and  your 
request,  and  implored  him  to  play  for  you.  He  listened, 
stroked  his  mustache,  and  toyed  with  his  big  diamond 
ring.  "It  is  for  the  poor  sick  little  children."  "Ah!"  he 
said,  "America  is  von  grand  country  for  poor  leetle  chil- 
dren. They  are  efer  doing  something.  Very  well;  why 
should  I  not  play  for  these  young  ladies,  aud  the  poor  sick 
little  children?"  "Then  yon  will?"  I  said.  "With  plea- 
sure." he  said.  "I  do  not  play  to  eferybody.  See  ?  I  do 
not  become  comniou.  But  this  is  different."  "Oh,  Pro- 
fessor," I  said,  "how  cau  I  thank  you  enough?  Dare  I  ask 
what  you  will  select  ?"  And  he  said,  '•  A  thing  from  Chopin 
aud  one  of  my  own  compositions." 


Miss  Sommcrfeld.  But  hear  the  rest,  aud  see,you  naughty 
girls,  what  a  position  you  have  got  me  into.  He  said,  '  Do 
yon  not  perform  the  piano,  mademoiselle  ?"  "A  little,  a 
very  little,"!  said.  "We  shall  then  give  a  four-hand  pi.  .  . 
Yes?  Charmant!  I  have  a  uice  thing,  superb.  We  shall 
close  the  parlor  doors,  and  practise  together." 

J/orfc/c  (Imaging  her).  The  dear.  See  her  blush.  It  will 
be  simply  an  elegant  affair. 

Miss  Somiiierjield.  But  I  am  afraid  to  play  with  such  a 
l)ig  musician.  My  heart  will  be  in  my  mouth. 

Charlotte.  On  no  account,  my  dear.  The  practice  will  do 
you  good.  And  the  honor  will  be  overwhelming. 

Grace.  Indeed,  you  are  a  beautiful  player,  and  think  how 
your  name  coupled  with  that  of  Skewsky  will  look.  Every- 
body will  turn  green  with  envy. 

Miss  Xtimiiii  I'lii  lil.  If  I  don't  spoil  everything. 

Ida.  Girls,  I  see  Uncle  Jake.     He's  an  old  sailor  wh<.  is 
hired  to  keep  the  grounds  in  order.     He  *pins  the  mu.-i  <!.- 
licious  yarns.     I'm  going  after  him.  and  lei's  see  if  u,   can 
set  him  a-going.  [l.'j-ii. 

I'ietoria.  What  fun ! 

'  'hiirlotte.  But  we  ought  to  let  nothing  interfere  with  our 
rehearsal. 

Helen.    Oh,  bother  the  rehearsal!      I  have  read  lh.i>.   <  n,\ 
Sailor's  yarns   in    HARPER'S    Korxo  TABU-:,  haven't 
But  I  never  heard  a  real  sailor  talk. 

.1/i.v.x  .limns.  I  would  better  be  going.  If  there's  to  be  a 
man  in  the  party,  mamma  might  not  like — 

.1/i.s.v  Siiiiiini  i-Jii  lil.  You  will  not  olfend  your  mamma.  I  am 
sure.  This  old  sailor  is  a  harmless, good-natured  fellow. 

Grace.    Mow  doe^  Ida  eome  t"  know   I'nele  ,I;il,i    ' 

t'ictoi'in.  Her  brother  follows  the  sea.  and  iiatmalh  *1» 
makes  up  to  sailors. 

Olire.   Ida  is  a  darling. 

I-' nli  /    Ida  mill  I  'nele  .lake. 

Ida.  I  have  fetched  him,  girls;  but  be  sa\s  lie\  in  a  hur- 
ry,aud  can  only  say  how-de.      (.Ixiile  In  the  <//'iV.O      I1 
him  talking.      His  storie.-  are  genuine  Bailors  yarns. 
How-de-do,  I'm  le  .lak.   .' 


909 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


i'  hiniiilli:  We  :in>  right  glad  to  see  you.  Do  sit  and  rest 
n v,  bile  on  this  bench. 

.I/;**  *,n,iiitrr /!rlil.  We  hope  you  are  well,  Uncle  Jake? 

r,n/,  ./,(/,(.  Tol'able.  ma'am,  tol'able.  My  knees  are  stiff 
around  the  j'ints. 

It/n.  Uncle  Jake,  we  are  getting  up  an  entertainment  to 
In-  given  in  the  hotel  for  the  benefit  ol'thr  Sea-side  Home. 

I  iii'lc  Juke.  Now  that's  a  good  tiling,  Calc'hite  to  fetch 
up  there  myself  one  of  these  days. 

}'irtfiriii  (laui/hiiii/ '.  I!iit.  Uncle  Jake,  this  is  not  a  home 
for  old  sailors.  It's  for  sick  and  poor  babies.  Yon  see, 
they  would  die  in  their  overcrowded  hot  tenements;  but 
they  com"  to  the  home  and  get  well. 

/  iic/i  Juke.  <  >h.  land  sakes  !  That  must  be  what  the  old 
gentleman  referred  to.  Sick  babies.  Yes,  that's  it. 

<  'liiirlritti:  What  old  gentleman  ? 

1'iiclt  Juke.  The  one  I  met  in  the  Saragossa  Sea. 

1/ln.  Elegant.  Girls,  he's  going  to  spill  a  yarn.  Uncle 
Jake,  do  please  tell  us  about  that.  Was  it  an  adventure  ? 

fiic-Je  Jake.  Quite  so,  miss.  But  1  interrupt  your  pro- 
ceedings. 

>'i  rrrnl  at  Once.  Oh,  go  on.  Do.  Never  mind  the  pro- 
ceedings. 

{'tide  Jake.  Well,  that  there  was  a  tight  scrape,  and  no 
mistake.  I  was  second  mate  of  the  Slue  Turquoise.  It 
was  a  first-class  voyage  till  we  hove  right  inter  the  Sara- 
gossa Sea,  and  there  we  war  becalmed  and  stuck  as  fast  as 
a  tly  in  mucilage.  That  Saragossa  Sea  is  a  ciirns  place. 
Sea-weeds  grow  a  mile  long,  with  blossoms  big  as  sun- 
flowers. Monsters  swim  around,  and  squat  on  the  branches 
and  squint  at  the  ships  a-Iyiu'  becalmed.  It  made  me 
kinder  shiver  to  see  them  cretnrs'  hungry  looks.  They 
knew  a  ship  would  rot  to  pieces, only  give  her  time.  Our 
< 'apt  ing  war  powerful  mad  when  he  see  he'd  got  inter  the 
Saragossa  Sea.  But  gettin'  mad  arter  a  thing  is  done 
don't  do  uo  good.  Waal,  it  war  a  red  and  fiery  ball  of  a 
sun.  How  I  wished  I  could  a  set  oucet  more  under  a  tree. 
Truly  I'd  ha'  given  my  bottom  dollar  to  be  a  settin'  under 
thai  old  oak  that  we  had  to  hum,  an'  a  breeze  a-stirrin'  the 
branches.  Somethiu'  to  dry  up  the  perspiration.  Willie 
war  cabin-boy,  and  homesick  and  down  in  the  mouth,  poor 
youngster.  The  Capting's  face  warn't  reassuring.  He  was 
plumb  beat  out. 

J/('ss  Siiiiuntrfu-lil.  Girls, do  you  recall  Coleridge's  "Ancient 
Mariner"? 

uliri'.  Yes. 

"  As  idle  as  a  painted  ship 
Upon  a  painted  ocean." 

Go  on,  Uncle  Jake. 

1'nc/i  Juke.  Waal,  one  night  I  war  on  deck  alone.  Willie 
he  was  thar  too.  The  Captiug  he  come  up.  "Ain't  no 
change,  mate  ?"  says  he.  "No,  sir," says  I.  "Bad  business," 
says  he.  "  Better  soon,  I  hope,"  says  I.  "  We're  in  the 
oideutical  spot  we  was  in  two  weeks  ago, "says  he.  "  Mate, 
the  perwisions  is  givin'  out, "says  he,  in  a  hoarse  voice.  "I 
know  it,  sir,"  says  I.  It  was  the  wnst  feature  of  the  case. 
Thar  war  Willie  standin'  by,  monrnfnl-like.  I  tried  to 
hearten  up  the  Captiug  a  bit,  but 'twarn't  no  use.  "I'd 
rutlier  be  in  a  whirlpool,"  says  he,  "than  here.  I'm  goin' 
below.  If  there's  a  change  call  me,"  says  he.  So  he  went 
below,  and  pretty  soon  I  heerd  him  and  the  rest  of  the  crew 
snoriu'.  There  warn't  a  solitary  blessed  thing  for  the  men 
to  do,  and  they  war  all  turned  in.  Willie  and  me  we  staid 
lip  and  watched  the  heavens  of  brass.  It  might  ha' been 
midnight  when  I  sighted  a  speck  a  long  ways  oft'.  There 
warn't  no  wind,  yet  it  came  on  wonderful  fast.  "D'ye  see 
that,  Willie,  my  boy?"  says  I.  "  It  are  a  curus  craft."  But 
Willie  warn't  asleep.  He  seen  it  too.  Come  near,  there 
Avar  a  'normons  shell  with  a  fine  hearty  old  gentlemau 
sittin'  in  it,  and  by  his  side  the  harndsomest  young  lady 
(ban-in' present  company)  that  I  ever  seed.  She  war  a 
beautiful  cretnr,  with  black  eyes  shinin'  like  stars,  and  long 
golden  hair,  which  she  war  a-combiu'out  the  snarls.  The 
shell  was  drawed  by  two  white  sea-horses.  Their  backs 
•was  like  great  fishes,  ami  their  tails  lay  on  top  the  water 
like  fishes'  tails.  Their  forrnd  part  war  like1  horses,  and 
their  manes  was  like  tossiu'  waves.  Bless  my  soul,  but 
they  made  a  putty  pictur'.  When,  they  was  hove  close  to 


us  the  old  gentleman  hauled  up  his  horses,  and  "  Helloh  !" 
says  he  to  me.  "  Helloh!"  says  I.  "  What's  the  name  of 
this  ere  wessel  ?'' says  he.  The  "Blue  Turquoise,"  sa\  s  1. 
"  Jes  so."  says  he.  "Becalmed,  ain't  ye  ?"  "You're  right 
there,  sir,"  says  I.  "What  may  I  call  you,  sir ?"  says  I. 
"Oh,  I'm  Father  Neptune. "says  he. 

Mix*  Julius.  Oh.  now.  Uncle  Jake.     That's  impossible. 

Iila.  Nothing  is  impossible.     Don't  interrupt. 

I'lH-le  Juki:  I' nly  telliu' ye  what  he  said.  He  had  a 

pitchfork  in  his  hand  'stead  of  a  whip. 

.I//™  James.  That  wasn't  a  pitchfork.  It  was  a  trident, 
which  had  three  prongs,  and  was  a  symbol  of  Neptune. 
Mamma — 

t'irluria.  Miss  James,  you  must  be  a  realist.  Now,  please 
let  the  story  go  on.  Pitchfork  it  is,  Uncle  Jake. 

Uncle  Jake.  Yes,  ma'am,  it  war.  "Well,"  says  I,  "that 
harudsome  gal  is  Miss  Neptune,  I  suppose."  With  that  the 
young  lady  laughed  fit  to  kill.  "  Not  by  a  long  shot."  says 
she.  "I  am  Miss  Lorelei."  Then  she  giv  me  one  of  them 
piercin'  glances  of  hern,  and  I  shivered.  Willie  he  felt 
oueasy  too.  "I  beg  your  pardon,  nia'am,"  says  I.  "Be 
you  the  pusson  what  sits  on  a  rock  and  draws  sailors  to 
their  own  destruction?"  "The  very  same,"  says  she.  ami 
she  kep'  ou  laughin'  and  laughin'.  "  If  you  please,  ma'am," 
says  I,  "  I'd  ruther  not  be  drawed.  Though 'twould  be  a 
change  on  staying  here."  "You're  safe,"  says  she.  "I 
ain't  in  the  drawiu' business  now,"  says  she.  "Father 
Neptune  and  me 's  takin' a  trip  round  the  world."  Father 
Neptune  he  spoke  up,  and  says  he,  "  Ever  been  to  America  ? 
They  say  it's  a  fine  country.  We're  goin' there.  I  want 
to  see  their  big  ships  that  cross  the  ocean  in  five  days,  seven 
hours,  and  fifty-nine  minutes.  That  beats  me.  And  then 
their  life  -  savin' stations,  and  light- houses,  and  sea-side 
homes  for  poor  sick  babies.  I  want  to  see  them  all.  Sea- 
air  is  good  for  babies,  eh  f  Good  enough  for  me.  I've  lived 
on  it  several  hundred  years.  "You're  lookiu'  hale  and 
hearty,  sir.  I'm  sure,"  says  I. 

"  Well,  good- by, and  good  luck  to  ye, "says  he,  pulliu'  at 
the  reins. 

"Hold  on,  your  Honor,"  says  I,  for  an  idee  had  taken 
possession  of  me.  "Can't  ye  give  us  a  pull  out  er  this?" 
He  talked  low  with  Miss  Lorelei,  and  she  didn't  seeui  to 
object.  "All  right,  throw  us  your  hawser,"  says  he.  I 
was  all  of  atremble,  but  Willie  and  me  got  that  there  rope 
loose  in  a  hurry,  and  threw  one  end  to  Father  Neptune,  and 
m.-ide  fast  the  other.  "Ain't  you  afraid?"  says  Willie. 
"  No,  my  boy,"  says  I.  "  The  end  justifies  the  means."  Miss 
Lorelei  took  hold  of  the  hawser,  and  Father  Neptune  give 
his  horses  a  poke  with  his  pitchfork,  and  my  eyes!  the  old 
thing  groaned  and  started.  The  Blue  Turquoise  was  actu- 
ally under  way,  and  them  horses  foamiu'  and  prancin'  for 
all  they  was  wnrth,  'twaru't  long  before  we  was  flyin'  and 
churniu' the  waves  behind.  Miss  Lorelei  looked  back  with 
them  wicked,  beautiful  eyes  of  hern,  and  tossed  her  golding 
hair,  aud,  "You  see  I  am  back  again  in  the  drawin'  busi- 
ness," says  she,  with  a  laugh  like  the  rattle  of  silver. 

Up  come  the  Captiug.  "  Got  a  wind,  eh  ?"  says  he. 
"  Why,  no,  not  a  breath.  What  in  thunder  makes  her  go?" 
Theu  he  spied  the  hawser  drawn  tight  over  the  bow,  and 
he  turned  pale,  his  knees  knocked  together,  his  teeth  chat- 
tered. You  might  have  pushed  him  down  with  a  straw. 
It  war,  no  mistake,  a  curus  position,  aud  I  never  blamed 
the  Captiug  for  feeliu'  queer.  "  It's  all  right,  sir,"  sa\  s  I ; 
"  \\e're  bein'  tugged." 

"  Who's  a-doin1  the  tuggiu'  f"  says  he.  Father  Neptune 
war  nothiu'  more'n  a  speck  on  the  water  by  this  time,  aud 
Capting  couldn't  make  him  out.  I  told  the  facts  to  the 
(.'aptiug,  and  Willie,  he,  j'ined  in,  aud  said  it  war  blessed 
Gospel  truth.  But  the  Capting's  wind  was  clean  out  of  his 
sails.  I  set  him  a  steamer-chair,  and  Willie  fauued  him 
with  a  newspaper  before  he  fairly  come  to.  "Lord,"  says 
I,  "Capting,  what's  the  odds  how  you  git  out  of  this,  s'long 
's  you  only  git  out  ?"  which  I  hold  to  be  a  pretty  good 
p'int. 

We  were  pulled  clear  out  of  the  Saragossa  Sea,  aud  the 
wind  sprang  up,  aud  we  made  port  iu  a  week  arter. 

/  irloriii.  Did  Father  Neptune  let  go  the  hawser? 

I 'mil  Ji/Li.  No.  miss.     Ye  see,  I  had  forgot  to  tell  him 


910 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


•we  was  bound  south,  and  nachelly  In-  licin'  headed  for  the 
Seaside  Home,  was  a-goin'  north.  We  cut  the  hawser. 
But  I'll  never  forgit  the  good  turn  lie  ,li,l  us. 

Ida.  My  brother's  name  is  Willie.     He  is  a  sailor. 

Uncle  Jal-f.  What's  his  last  name? 

I,l«.  Willie  Moore. 

Uncle  Juki:  Bless  my  soul,  if  that  warn't  the  identical 
chap. 

•  Ida.  But  my  brother's  first  voyage  was  on  the  /'fir/wi.vr. 
She  sailed  to  the  West  Indies. 

Uncle  .fnki:  It  tear  the  Porpoise.  Beats  all,  how  my 
memory  fails.  The  Blue  Turquoise  war  the  next  ship  I 
sailed  in. 

Ida.  Willie  never  spoke  of  that  adventure  at  home,  Cap- 
tain Jake. 

Captain  Jala:  Ask  him,  ask  him.  'Mind  him  of  the  Sar- 
agossa  Sea,  and  how  the  Blue — I  mean  the  Porpoise — war 
tugged.  He'll  recollect.  Mention  Miss  Lorelei  with  her 
goldiug  hair.  But  good-day,  young  ladies.  Pleased  to 
meet  ye  again. 

All.  Good-day,  Captain  Jake. 

Miss  Homiutrfielil.  And  many  thanks  for  your  pretty  tale. 

[Exit  Captain  Jake. 

Miss  James.  I  fear  that  old  man  does  not  always  speak 
the  truth.  Neptune  is  a  pure  myth. 

Helen.  Like  the  Gulf  Stream. 

Miss  Jamcfi.  And  I  seriously  doubt,  Miss  Moore,  if  that 
was  your  brother  Willie. 

Ida.  Don't  you  worry. 

Cliarlotte.  I  see  Madge  has  found  the  old  lyric  mamma 
loves.  Read  it,  Madge,  two  lines  at  a  time,  and  we  will 
sing  it  to  the  time  of  "  What  fairylike  music  steals  over 
the  sea."  * 

"  What  fairjlike  music  steals  over  the  sea, 
Entrancing  the  senses  with  charm'd  melody? 
'Tis  the  voice  of  the  mermaid,  that  floats  o'er  the  main, 
As  she  mingles  her  song  with  the  gondolier's  strain. 
'Tis  the  voice  of  the  mermaid,  that  floats  o'er  the  main, 
As  she  mingles  her  song  with  the  gondolier's  strain." 

[Madge  reads,  and  tin-  />lln  is  MH<;. 

When  we  have  the  entertainment,  we'll  let  this  be  the  last 
thing  on  the  programme. 


GREAT    MEN'S    SONS. 

BY    ELBRIDGE    S.  BROOKS. 

THE   SON    OF  NAPOLEON. 

•"  I^TINETEEN — twenty — twenty-one,"  the  people  in  the 

i.1  Garden  of  the  Tnileries  counted.  Then,  with  open 
ears,  they  listened  breathlessly.  "  Twenty-two !  Hurrah  ! 
hurrah!"  they  shouted.  "A  boy  ;  it  is  a  boy!"  they  cried. 
'•  Long  live  the  Emperor!  Long  live  the  King  of  Rome!'' 

It  was  the  20th  of  March,  1811.  A  baby  had  been  born 
in  the  palace  of  the  Tnileries.  The  booming  cannon  an- 
nounced the  great  event,  and  the  people  knew  that  for  a 
girl  twenty-one  guns  would  be  fired;  for  a  boy,  one  hun- 
dred. So  wheu  the  twenty-second  gun  boomed  out  there 
was  no  need  for  further  counting.  All  the  people  knew 
that  an  heir  to  the  throne  of  France  had  been  born,  and 
with  loud  acclamations  they  shouted  "welcome"  and 
"long  life"  to  the  sou  of  Napoleon. 

He  was  a  bright,  pretty  little  fellow,  and  his  father  loved 
him  from  the  start.  At  his  very  first  cry  Napoleon  caught 
him  up,  and  hurrying  to  the  great  chamber  in  which  the 
foremost  men  of  the  empire  were  waiting,  presented  to 
them  "  his  Majesty  the  King  of  Rome !" 

It  was  at  the  height  of  Napoleon's  power.  All  Europe 
lay  at  his  feet.  Thrones  and  principalities  were  his  to  nive 
away;  but  for  his  son  he  reserved  the  title  that  would  re- 
vive the  greatness  aud  glory  of  the  ancient  days  and  recall 
the  widespread  sway  of  Charlemagne;  the  little  Napoleon 
was  to  be  King  of  Rome,  and  heir  to  the  Empire  of  France. 

But  a  King  must  have  a  royal  guard.  So  one  day  in 
September,  It'll,  a  brigade  <>f  bo\  s.  none  of  them  over  twelve 
years  old,  marched  into  the  Coin-  du  Carrousel,  where  the 
*  Page  112,  Vol.  I.,  Franklin  Square  Library. 


Emperor  was  reviewing  his  army,  aud  drew  up  in  line  «if 
battle  opposite  the  famous  Old  Guard  of  ihc.  KIII|M  mi.  ,\n>l 
Napoleon  .said  :  "  Soldiers  of  my  guard,  there  are  your  chil- 
dren. I  confide  to  them  the  guard  of  my  son,  us  I  hav.  <  on 
fided  myself  to  you."  And  to  the  boys  he  said  :  -JI\  chil- 
dren, upon  you  I  impose  a  difficult  duty,  lint  I  rely  upon 
you.  You  are  pupils  of  the  guard,  and  your  service  is  ihe 
protection  of  the  King  of  Rome." 

There  were  days  of  splendor  and  ceremonial,  of  fAto  aud 

display,  in  the  early  life  of  the  little  King  of  I,' e.     His 

father  was,  literally,  Kings  of  Kings  ;  he  mad.-  and  unmade 
so\  ereigns.  he  carved  up  nations,  and  cut  out  sta 

Suddenly  came  the  collapse.  All  Europe  arrayed  itself 
against  this  crowned  adventurer— this  man  who, through 
a  hundred  years,  lias  remained  at  once  the  marvel  and  the 
puzzle  of  history.  There  came  days  of  preparation  and 
leave-taking,  of  war  and  battle,  of  defeat  and  disi: 
When  the  days  of  war  aud  struggle  came,  the  old- 
time  lire  and  dash  and  courage  of  the  conqueror  seemed 
to  have  left  him;  his  hopes  were  with  his  boy  and  that 
boy's  future  rather  than  in  the  rush  and  grapple  of  armies. 

So  Napoleou's  star  set  fast.  With  all  Europe  arrayed 
against  him  for  his  overthrow,  the  great  Corsican  suddenly 
became  little,  and  everything  went  wrong. 

On  the  25th  of  January,  1814,  the  father  saw  his  son  for 
the  last  time.  Holding  by  the  hand  the  boy,  then  nearly 
three  years  old,  the  Emperor  presented  himself  before  the 
eight  hundred  officers  of  the  National  Guard  of  Paris,  as- 
sembled in  the  gorgeous  Hall  of  the  Marshals.  "Officers 
of  the  National  Guard,"  he  said,  "  I  go  to  take  my  place  at 
the  head  of  the  army.  To  your  protection  I  confide  my 
wife  aud  my  son,  upon  whom  rest  so  many  hopes.  In  your 
care  I  leave  what  is  next  to  France — the  dearest  thing  I 
have  in  the  world." 

But  disaster  overwhelmed  both  the  Emperor  aud  the  na- 
tion. The  guards  were  powerless  to  guard.  The  armies 
of  Napoleon  were  defeated  ;  he  himself  was  banished  to 
Elba;  aud  the  little  Napoleon  with  his  mother  escaped  to 
the  court  of  his  grandfather,  the  Emperor  of  Austria. 

With  a  final  burst  of  courage  Napoleon  escaped  from 
Elba  aud  roused  France  once  again  to  war.  It  was  in  vain. 
His  power  and  his  luck  were  gone.  Waterloo  gave  him  his 
death-blow,  and  the  lonely  island  of  St.  Helena  became  his 
prison  and  his  grave. 

Four  days  after  Waterloo,  on  the  22d  of  June,  1815,  Na- 
poleon issued  his  last  proclamation.  "I  niici  m\>elf  in 
sacrifice  to  the  hatred  of  the  enemies  of  France,"  he  an- 
nounced. "My  political  life  is  ended,  and  I  proclaim  my 
son,  under  the  title  of  Napoleon  II.,  Emperor  of  the  French. 
....  Let  all  unite  for  the  public  safety,  and  iu  order  to  re- 
main an  independent  nation.  NAPOLEON." 

But  the  nation  was  paralyzed  by  disaster.  Union  was 
impossible.  The  boy  thus  proclaimed  Emperor  was  far 
from  France,  held  by  the  enemy,  lie  was  never  to  see  his 
native  land  again,  never  to  see  his  father. never  to  reign 
Emperor  of  the  French. 

For  seventeen  years  the  boy  lived  at  the  Austrian  court, 
practically  a  prisoner.  His  mother  cared  little  for  him,  and 
for  years  did  not  see  him  ;  his  name  of  Napoleon  was  denied 
him  ;  his  titles  of  Emperor  and  King  were  taken  from  him, 
and  ho  was  known  simply  as  the  Duke  of  Reiclistadi. 

His  grandfather,  the  Emperor  of  Austria,  was  kind  to 
him,  and  tried  to  make  an  Austrian  of  him,  but  he  grew 
from  a  bright,  handsome  little  fellow  into  a  lonely,  low- 
spirited,  and  brooding  boy,  who  remembered  his  former 
grandeur  aud  the  high  position  to  which  he  hail  been 
and  fretted  over  the  knowledge  that  he,  the  sou  of  Napo- 
leon, could  inherit  no  portion  of  his  father's  glory,  and  was 
denied  even  the  empty  honor  of  his  name. 

At  five  he  was  a  beautiful  boy,  who  rebelled  when  his 
tutors  tried  to  teach  him  German,  and  delighted  to  play 
jokes  on  his  royal  grandfather;  it  has  even  been  solemnly 
averted  that  he  tied  the  imperial  coat  taiU  to  a  chair,  and 
filled  the  imperial  boots  with  ^ra\el.  At  se\en  lie  put  on 
the  uniform  of  a  private  in  the  Austrian  lioyal  Guard,  and 
displayed  a  liUing  for  military  life,  lli^  2 
change  to  reticence  and  a  [i  litude  as  lie  grew  old 

enough  to  appreciate   his  position.     One  of  the   Austrian 


911 


'HIS   MAJESTY    THE    KING    OF    ROME." 


Generals  was  discoursing  to  the  boy  one  day  ou  the  three 
greatest  warriors  of  the  world. 

"I  know  a  fourth,"  said  the  young  Napoleon. 

"  And  who  is  that?"  the  commandant  asked. 

"My  father,"  replied  the  boy, proudly,  and  walked  away 
from  tin-  lecturer. 

He  was  ten  years  old  when  his  great  father  died  in  his 
exile  at  St.  Helena  (on  the  5th  of  May,  1821).  The  boy 
wept  bitterly  when  he  was  told  the.  news,  and  shut  himself 
up  for  several  days.  He  put  on  mourning,  but  the  Austrians 
compelled  him  to  put  it  off,  and  permitted  him  to  show  no 
grief  for  his  dead  father. 

After  this  he  grew  still  more  quiet  and  secretive ;  he  took 
to  his  books,  became  quite  a  student,  and  wrote  an  able 
treatise  upon  Caesar's  Commentaries.  When  he  was  fifteen 
he  was  permitted  to  read  books  about  his  father  and  the 
history  of  France,  and  at,  sixteen  he  was  instructed  in  the 
forms  of  Austrian  government,  and  the  false  theory  known 
as  "  the  divine  right  of  Kings." 

When  he  was  twenty  he  "came  out"  into  society,  and 
was  made  Lieutenant-Colonel  of  infantry  in  the  Austrian 
army,  but  he  never  "  smelled  powder"  nor  saw  war.  Brood- 
ing and  solitude  weakened  his  constitution;  ill  health 
resulted;  his  lungs  were  touched  with  disease  ;  and  ou  the 
22d  of  July,  in  the  year  1832,  having  reached  tin-  age  of 
twenty-one,  the  son  of  Napoleon  died  in  the  palace  of  Selii'>n- 
briinu,  of  consumption. 

It  seems  hard,  but  death  was  the  only  solution  of  what 
might  have  been  a  problem.  Without  the  will,  the  energy, 
the  genius,  or  the  sel6shness  of  bis  remarkable  father,  the 
son  of  Napoleon  had  yet  ambition,  persistence,  and  a  rev- 
erence for  his  father's  memory  that  amounted  almost,  to  a 
pa»ion.  Without  any  special  love  for  France,  he  cherished 
that  dream  of  empire  that  his  father  had  made  come  true. 
Had  he  lived  and  joined  ability  to  strength,  his  name  might 


have  raised  up  armies,  and  again  drenched  Europe  in 
blood — the  tool  of  factions  or  the  prey  of  his  own  ambitious. 
He  died  a  lonely  invalid,  and  Europe  was  spared  the  horror 
of  a  possible  "might  have  been." 

Ou  the  plain  bronze  tomb  that  marks  this  boy's  place  of 
burial  in  the  Carthusian  Monastery  at  Vienna — near  to 
that  of  another  unwise  and  unfortunate  Prince,  the  Aus- 
trian usurper  Maximilian  of  Mexico — the  visitor  may  read 
this  inscription,  placed  there  by  the  Emperor,  his  grand- 
father: To  the  eternal  memory  of  Joseph  Charles  Francis. 
Duke  of  Reichstadt,  sou  of  Napoleon,  Emperor  of  the 
French,  and  Marie  Louise,  Archduchess  of  Austria.  Born 
at  Paris.  March  211,  1811.  when  in  his  cradle  he  was  hailed 
by  the  title  of  King  of  Rome  ;  he  was  endowed  with  every 
faculty,  both  of  body  and  mind;  his  stature  was  tall;  his 
countenance  adorned  with  the  charms  of  youth,  and  his 
conversation  full  of  affability;  he  displayed  an  astonish- 
ing capacity  for  study,  and  the  exercise  of  the  military  art : 
attacked  by  a  pulmonary  disease,  he  died  at  Schoubrnnn. 
near  Vienna,  July  22,  1832. 

The  epitaph  tells  but  one  side  of  this  boy's  story;  the 
other  side  is  sad  enough.  A  young  life  he-gun  in  glory 
went  out  in  gloom  ;  the  Prince  of  the  Tuileries  became  the 
prisoner  of  Vienna  ;  the  dream  of  empire  was  speedily  dis- 
pelled, and  death  itself  mercifully  removed  one  who  might 
have  been  a  menace  and  a  curse  to  Europe. 

What  he  might  have  been  had  his  father  remained  con- 
ijneror  and  Emperor  none  may  say.  But  the  star  of  Na- 
poleon, that  had  blazed  like  a  meteor  in  Europe's  startled 
sky,  flickered,  fell,  and  went  out  in  disgrace.  Thencefor- 
ward the  shadow  of  the  father's  downfall  clung  to  the  boy. 
and  the  son  of  Napoleon  had  neither  the  opportunity,  the 
energy,  nor  the  will  to  display  any  trace  of  that  genius  for 
conquest,  that  made  the  name  of  Napoleon  great  in  his  day. 
and  greater  since  his  downfall  and  his  death. 


912 


OAKLEIQH. 


BY  ELLEN  DOUGLAS  DELANO. 


CHAPTER      XII. 


'  "\TTHY  has  be  come  IK .'" 

w 


This  was  the  question  ou  the  lips  of  each  oue  of 
the  family  when  they  heard  of  Neal's  arrival. 

It  was  soon  answered.     He  had  been  suspended. 

He  would  give  little  explanation;  he  merely  asserted 
that  he  was  innocent  of  that  of  which  he  was  accused. 
Some  of  the  boys,  the  most  unmanageable  at  St.  Asaph's, 
had  plotted  to  do  some  mischief.  Neal,  being  more  or  less 
intimate  witli  the  set,  was  asked  to  join  in  the  plot,  but  re- 
fused. He  was  with  the  boys,  however,  up  to  the  moment 
of  their  putting  it  into  execution.  Afterwards  circum- 
stances pointed  to  his  having  been  concerned  in  it,  and  his 
known  intimacy  with  these  very  boys  condemned  him. 

There  was  but  one  person  who  could  prove  absolutely 
that  he  had  not  been  with  the  culprits  that  night, and  that 
person  held  his  peace. 

Of  course  Cynthia  rightly  suspected  that  it  was  Bronsou. 

A  letter  came  from  the  head  master  of  the  school,  stating 
the  facts  as  they  appeared  to  him,  and  announcing  with 
regret  that  he  had  been  obliged  to  suspend  Neal  Gordon  for 
the  remainder  of  the  term. 

It  was  au  unfortunate  aft'air  altogether.  Neal  was  moody 
and  low-spirited,  and  he 
•was  deeply  offended  that 
his  story  was  not  general- 
ly believed,  for  the  house- 
hold was  divided  iu  regard 
to  it. 

Jack  and  Cynthia  stoutly 
maintained  his  innocence, 
Mr.  Franklin  and  Edith 
looked  at  the  worst  side 
of  it,  while  Mrs.  Franklin 
was  undecided  in  her  opin- 
ion. 

She  wanted  to  believe  her 
brother's  word,  she  did  be- 
lieve it,  and  yet  all  the 
proved  facts  were  so  hope- 
lessly against  him.  The 
other  boys  that  had  been 
suspended  were  his  friends. 
Neal  bad  been  reproved  be- 
fore for  mischief  that  he 
had  been  in  with  them.  It 
was  oue  of  those  sad  cases 
•when  a  man's  past  record 
counts  against  him.  no 
matter  how  innocent  he 
may  be  of  the  present  of- 
fence. But  Hester  could  not 
believe  that  her  brother 
would  lie  to  her. 

One  morning  Edith  drove 
her  father  to  the  train.  Not 
a  vestige  of  snow  was  left 
near  the  road  ;  only  a  patch 
or  two  ou  the  hills,  and 
even  that  was  rapidly  dis- 
appearing iu  the  spring 
sunshine  which  every  day 
grew  warmer. 

"  Have  you  heard  much 
about  St.  Asaph's  from  any 
one  but  Neal  ?"  asked  Mr. 
Franklin,  quite  abruptly. 
"  Doesn't  that  cousin  of  the 
Morgans  go  there?" 

"Do  you  mean  Tom, 
papa?  Yes,  he  does,  and 
Tony  Bronson,  too,  who 
stays  at  the  Morgans'  oc- 
casiouallv."  POOR 


"  I  think  I  remember.  Hid  yon  ever  hear  either  of  them 
speak  of  Neal.  or  discuss  him  iu  any  way?" 

Kdith  hesitated. 

"Tom  Morgan  never  did,"  she  said  at  last. 

"And  the  other  fellow?" 

"Yes,  he  said  something.  Really,  papa,  I  wish  you 
wouldn't  ask  me." 

••  What  nonsense!  Of  course  it  is  your  duty  to  tell 

Edith.  It  is  right  that  I  should  know  how  Neal  stands 
with  his  class.  What  did  the  boy  say?" 

"  He  spoke  as  if  Neal  were  in  some  scrape,  and  he  wished 
that  he  could  help  him  out." 

"  He  is  a  friend  of  NeaPs,  then  ?" 

"I  don't  know.  He  spoke  very  nicely  of  him,  and  really 
seemed  to  want  to  help  him;  but  Cynthia  didn't  believe 
that  when  I  told  her.  She  seemed  to  think  he  was  an  ene- 
my of  Neal's.  But  then  Cynthia  can't  bear  him,  you  know. 
She  took  one  of  her  tremendous  prejudices  against  Tony 
Bronsou,  the  way  she  often  does,  and  she  wouldn't  believe 
that  there  was  a  bit  of  good  in  him." 

"lint  you  liked  him?" 

"Yes,  very  much.  I  think  he  is  conceited,  but  then  so 
many  boys  are  that.  As  far  as  I  could  see  he  is  a  very 


* 


BOB !    HIS  JOV  HAD  BEEN'  QUICKLY  TURNED  TO  MO1 
913 


HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE 


nice  fellow,  and  the  Morgans  like  him  ever  so  much.  The 
only  people  that  I  know  of  who  don't  like  him  are  Jack 
and  Cynthia  and  Neal." 

"  I  don't  believe  there  is  much  doubt  that  Neal  has  been 
very  wild  all  the  time  he  has  been  at  St.  Asaph's,"  observed 
Mr.* Franklin.  "  This  only  goes  to  prove  it.  Brousou  was 
not  in  that  set,  evidently,  as  he  was  not  one  of  those  win. 
were  suspended,  and  I  have  no  doubt  he  is  a  very  good  sort 
of  fellow.  It  is  a  pity  Neal  doesn't  see  more  of  him." 

They  drew  up  at  the  post-office,  and  Mr.  Franklin  went 
in  to  get  the  letters.  He  came  out  with  quite  a  budget, 
and  stood  at  the  carriage  looking  hastily  over  them. 

"All  of  these  are  to  go  home,"  he  said,  giving  a  number 
to  Edith.  "  Here  is  one  for  me  with  the  St.  Asaph's  post- 
mark. I  will  see  what  it  is." 

He  tore  it  open,  and  glanced  at  the  signature.  Then  he 
looked  up  quickly. 

"  What  was  that  Bronson  fellow's  name,  Edith?" 

"  Tony." 

"Then  this  is  from  him.  Odd  we  should  just  have  been 
talking  about  him.  Humph!" 

Mr.  Franklin's  face  grew  grave,  then  angry,  as  he  read 
the  letter. 

"  That  boy  will  come  to  no  good  end,"  he  muttered.  '•  I 
don't  know  what  we  are  going  to  do  with  him." 

Edith  watched  him  curiously.  She  wished  that  her  fa- 
ther would  give  her  the  letter  to  read,  but  he  did  not. 
People  were  hurrying  by  to  the  station,  which  was  but  a 
few  steps  from  the  post-office. 

"You  will  miss  your  train,  Franklin,"  said  some  one,  tap- 
ping him  on  the  shoulder. 

Mr.  Franklin  glanced  at  the  clock  iu  the  station  tower, 
found  that  he  had  but  half  a  minute,  and  with  a  hasty 
good-by  to  Edith,  and  strict  injunctions  not  to  mention 
Bronson's  letter  at  home,  he  ran  for  his  train,  thrusting  the 
mysterious  note  into  his  pocket  as  he  weut. 

Edith  did  the  errands  and  drove  home  again,  after  a 
brief  call  upon  Gertrude  Morgan,  who  was  full  of  curiosity 
about  Neal's  return. 

"I  always  knew  he  was  pretty  gay,"  she  said.  "Of 
course  Tom  and  Tony  Brousqu  wouldn't  say  much — boys 
never  do,  you  know;  but  I  gathered  from  certain  things 
that  Neal  was — well,  rather  sporty,  to  say  the  least." 

Edith  drove  homeward  rather  slowly.  She  was  very 
sorry  about  it  all:  sorry  for  Neal  himself,  whom  she  liked, 
despite  the  fact  that  he  was  a  Gordon ;  sorry  for  her  step- 
mother, whom  she  told  herself  she  disliked ;  and  yet  Mrs. 
Franklin's  unvarying  kindness  and  sweet  temper  had  not 
been  without  good  results.  Edith  had  softened  greatly 
towards  her,  more  than  she  herself  was  aware  of.  She 
still  continued  to  assure  herself  that  it  was  an  unfortunate 
day  for  them  when  the  Gordons  came,  and  she  worked  her- 
self into  a  temper  when  she  thought  of  the  added  worri- 
nient  it  gave  her  father  to  have  Neal  behave  as  he  had 
done. 

"Papa  looked  so  anxious  this  uioruiug  when  he  read 
that  letter,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  It  is  too  bad.  I  do 
wonder  what  was  iu  it,  and  from  Tony  Brousou,  too !  What 
would  Gertrude  have  said  if  I  had  told  her?" 

In  the  mean  time  Mr.  Franklin  was  reading  his  letter 
again. 

"MY  DEAR  MR.  FRANKLIN  [it  ran], — It  is  with  great  re- 
gret that  I  am  obliged  to  call  a  little  matter  to  your  atten- 
tion. I  had  hoped  that  it  would  not  be  necessary.  Your 
brother- in- law.  Xeal  Gordon,  owes  me  a  small  amount, 
fifty  dollars,  in  fact,  aud  I  am  at  present  really  in  need  of 
the  money.  I  have  waited  for  it  a  good  while,  nearly  a 
year,  and  there  are  one  or  two  bills  that  I  am  expected  to 
pay  out  of  my  allowance,  which  I  am  unable  to  do  until 
Gordon  pays  uie. 

"  Of  course  I  dislike  very  much  to  dun  him  for  it  when 
he  is  in  disgrace,  but  really  I  see  no  other  way  out  of  the 
difficulty  than  to  ask  you  if  you  will  kindly  forward  a 
check  to  my  order.  Very  truly  yours, 

"ANTHONY  BRONSON. 

"St.  Asaph's,  April  2d." 
This  letter  had  cost  the  writer  much  thought.     He  had 


written  several  copies  before  he  was  altogether  satisfied, 
but  at  last  the  result  pleased  him. 

"I  call  it  rather  neat,"  lie  said,  as  he  folded  it  carefully 
and  addressed  the  envelope  with  an  extra  flourish.  "This 
will  bring  the  roof  down  on  our  tine  high-and-mighty  Mr. 
Gordon,  if  nothing  else  does.  I  fancy  that  brother-in-law 
of  his  has  a  nice  little  temper  of  his  own,  and  it  will  be- 
so  pleasant  for  Gordie  to  be  nagged  by  a  brother-in- 
law  !" 

When  Editli  got  back  to  Oakleigh  the  morning  that 
Brouson's  note  was  received  she  found  wild  excitement 
raging,  which,  for  a  time,  made  her  forget  the  letter. 

Some  of  the  Leghorn  pullets,  which,  unfortunately,  could 
fly  high,  had  escaped  from  the  yard,  notwithstanding  the 
wire  netting  which  enclosed  them,  aud  had  been  having  a 
fine  time  scratching  and  pecking  iu  entirely  new  hunting- 
grounds,  when  Bob  happened  along. 

Here  was  his  chance.  For  many  mouths  he  had  been 
waiting  for  this  very  moment.  What  was  the  use  of  being 
a  sporting  dog,  if  he  could  not  now  and  then  indulge  his 
hunting  proclivities?  His  master  had  gone  ou  the  river 
and  left  him  at  home— his  master  did  not  treat  him  well, 
nowadays.  Bob  felt  neglected.  He  would  have  oue  good 
time. 

He  waited  his  opportunity,  and  when  it  camo  he  made 
the  most  of  it.  A  fine  fat  hen,  peacefully  picking  a  worm, 
found  the  tables  suddenly  turned.  Instead  of  the  worm 
being  in  her  mouth,  she  found  herself  iu  the  mouth  of  the 
horrible  black  object  which  she  had  often  seen  peering 
greedily  at  her  through  the  fence.  Oh,  that  she  had  never 
flown  over  that  fence!  She  gave  one  despairing  "cluck" 
as  she  was  borne  madly  through  the  air,  aud  then  was 
silent  forever. 

Janet  and  Willy,  playing  near,  heard  the  noise  and  fol- 
lowed iu  pursuit,  calling  Cynthia  as  they  did  so,  who,  see- 
ing what  was  the  matter,  flew  from  the  house,  dogwhip  in 
hand.  The  boys  were  both  ou  the  river. 

For  a  time  the  chase  was  hopeless.  Bob  had  not  waited 
all  these  mouths  for  nothing;  he  had  no  intention  of 
dropping  the  prize  at  the  first  command.  Round  aud 
round  he  tore,  leading  his  pursuers  a  pretty  dance  through 
orchard  and  field,  over  the  lawn,  and  through  the  currant- 
bushes.  Cynthia  fell  at  this  particular  point,  with  Janet 
and  Willy  ou  top  of  her,  but  they  picked  themselves  up  aud 
started  again. 

At  last  Mrs.  Franklin,  coming  out,  headed  Bob  oft',  aud 
Cyuthia  grasped  his  collar. 

"Bad  dog!"  she  cried.  "Neal  told  me  I  was  to  punish 
you,  and  I  mean  to  do  it." 

She  cut  him  with  the  short  whip,  but  it  was  of  no  avail. 
Bob  had  dropped  the  chicken,  and,  wild  with  excitement, 
sprang  from  her  hand.  She  only  succeeded  in  lashing  her- 
self with  the  whip. 

"It's  no  use,"  she  said  at  last.  "  I've  got  to  punish  him 
some  other  way.  The  boys  won't  he  home  for  ever  so  long, 
and  it  won't  do  to  wait." 

"I  have  always  heard  the  only  way  of  curing  a  dog  of 
killing  hens  was  to  tie  oue  around  his  neck,"  said  Mrs. 
Franklin,  doubtfully.  "Perhaps  it  had  better  be  done. 
We  will  call  oue  of  the  men." 

"  No,  I  will  do  it  all,"  said  Cynthia  ;  "  it's  not  a  very  nice 
piece  of  work,  but  I'll  do  it." 

Cord  was  brought,  aud  she  finally  succeeded  in  attaching 
the  defunct  hen  to  Bob's  collar.  Poor  Bob!  His  joy  had 
been  quickly  turned  to  mourning.  And  now  this  «tern 
Cyuthia — she  who  had  hitherto  been  apparently  so  affably 
disposed  towards  him — fastened  him  to  the  bitch  ing-post, 
and  came  with  a  horrid  horsewhip  to  chastise  him!  Bob 
never  forgot  that  morning.  He  always  thought  of  Cyuthia 
with  more  respect  after  that. 

When  Neal  came  home  he  highly  approved  of  all  the  pro- 
ceedings except  the  horsewhip. 

"  Couldn't  you  do  it  with  his  own  whip  ?"  he  asked.  "  It 
places  a  dog  at  a  meau  disadvantage  to  tie  him  up  and 
then  whip  him.  It  is  so  lowering  to  his  dignity." 

"One  of  us  had  to  be  at  a  disadvantage,"  said  Cynthia, 
indignantly,  "and  I  should  thiuk  it  was  better  for  Bob  to 


914 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


be  at  it  than  for  me.     And  as  for  his  diguity,  I  think  it 
ought  to  be  lowered." 

To  which  wise  remark  Neal  was  forced  to  agree 

Jack  was  much  disgusted  at  losins  one  of  his  best  hens. 
Vt  hat  with  the  fox  last  winter,  and  a  neighbor's  do-  that 
had  killed  seveu,  aud  a  peculiar  disease  which  had'takeu 
<>ft  nfty,lnck  seemed  to  he  against  the  poultry  business 
But,  uudiscouraged,  Jack  had  refilled  the  machine  and  «  as 
awaiting  results.  Some  of  last  year's  hens  had  be^un  to 
lay,  aud  he  was  sending  eggs  to  the  Boston  markets 
There  were  actually  a  few  more  figures  on  the  page  for  re- 
ceipts. 

Bob's  misdemeanor  temporarily  diverted  the  minds  of 
the  family  from  the  trouble  about  Neal,  but  Mr.  Franklin'* 
return  that  night  brought  up  the  subject  again  to  some  of 
them. 

He  told  his  wife  that  he  wished  to  speak  with  her,  and 
together  they  went  into  the  library  and  shut  the  door.  He 
laid  two  letters  before  her  on  the  table — the  one  he  had  re- 
ceived that  morning  from  Brouson,  and  a  second  one  from 
the  same  source,  which  had  come  by  the  evening  mail.  The 
latter  was  very  brief: 

"  MY  DEAR  MR.  FRANKLIN,— The  very  day  that  I  sent  my 
letter  to  you  I  received  a  money-order  from  Gordon  for  the 
amouut  lie  owed  me. 

"Regretting  very  much  that  I  should  have  troubled  yon, 
I  have  the  honor  to  be 

"  Very  truly  yours, 

"  ANTHONY  BRONSON." 

••  What  does  it  mean  !"  asked  Mr.  Franklin,  when  his  wife 
had  finished  reading  the  letters. 

"  I  cannot  imagine,"  said  she,  looking  up,  completely 
mystified. 

"Did  you  lend  him  the  money  f 

"No,  certainly  not.  I  should  have  told  you,  John,  if  I 
had,"  she  added,  reproachfully. 

"  I  know,"  he  said,  as  he  walked  up  and  down  the  room, 
'•but  I  could  not  account  for  it  in  any  other  way.  It  is  ex- 
traordinary." 

"  Suppose  we  send  for  Neal  and  ask  him  about  it." 

When  Neal  came  he  was  given  the  two  letters  to  read. 
He  did  so,  and  laid  them  down  without  a  word. 

"  Well,  what  have  you  got  to  say  for  yourself?''  asked  hi.s 
brother-in-law,  impatiently. 

"Nothing." 

"  Neal  dear,  you  must  explain,"  said  Hester. 

"  Why  should  I  explain  f  I  paid  the  debt.  It  doesn't 
make  any  difference  to  either  of  you  how  I  did  it." 

"  It  makes  a  great  deal  of  difference,"  exclaimed  Mr. 
Franklin,  who  was  rapidly  growing  angry.  •'  In  the  first 
place,  how  did  you  come  to  be  owing  fifty  dollars  so  soon 
after  the  other  debt  was  paid  ?  What  did  yon  do  with  the 
first  fifty  your  sister  gave  you  in  the  fall  ?'•' 

"Spent  it." 

"  Neal !"  cried  Hester.  "  Didu't  you  pay  your  debts  then  ? 
Why  didn't  you  f ' 

He  said  nothing. 

"It  is  an  abominable  affair  altogether,"  said  Mr.  Frank- 
lin. "You  were  in  debt,  which  you  had  no  business  to  be. 
You  obtained  money  from  Hester  to  pay  the  debt,  and  then, 
according  to  your  own  words,  you  spent  it  otherwise.  You 
get  into  a  bad  scrape  and  are  suspended.  Aud  now  you 
obtain  money  in  some  peculiar  way,  and  refuse  to  explain 
how." 

"  Hold  on  a  minute,  Mr.  Franklin,"  said  Neal,  who  was  in 
a  towering  rage  by  this  time.  •'  You  go  a  little  too  far.  I 
don't  consider  that  it  is  at  all  necessary  for  me  to  explain 
to  you,  but  I  am  willing  to  do  it  on  Hessie's  account.  I 
did  not  say  that  I  spent  her  money  otherwise.  I  merely 
said  that  I  spent  it,  which  was  perfectly  true.  I  spent  it 
paying  half  my  debt.  I  owed  a  hundred  dollars  at  that 
time,  instead  of  fifty  as  I  told  you.  I  paid  half  then,  and 
the  rest  I  paid  a  few  days  ago,  and  it  doesn't  make  any 
difference  to  you  or  any  one  else  how  I  got  the  money. 
As  for  the  scrape.  I  was  not  in  it.  You  can  believe  my 
wurd  or  not,  as  you  like.  I've  said  all  I  am  going  ti>  saj 


and  if  you  don't  mind  I'll  leave  you.  I've  had  , non-1,  of 
this." 

He  stalked  out  of  the  library,  and  went   up  to  his  own 
'""in      No  one  saw  him  again  that  evening. 

"  You  are  too  hard  ou  him,  John,"  said  Mrs.  Franklin. 
'Hard  on  him!     It  would  have  beeu  b.-tter  forth,-  boy 
if  some  one  had  begun  earlier  to  be  hard  on  him      It  is  ih'.. 
most  extraordinary  thing  where  In-  IM.I  thai  mOni 

Nothing  was  said  to  the  others  about  it  all.  They  Knew 
that  Neal  was  in  fresh  disgrace,  but  Mr.  and  Mr.-.  Franklin 
withheld  the  details  at  present.  Neal  himself  was  dumb. 
Not  even  to  his  only  confidante,  Cynthia,  did  he  unburden 
himself.  He  was  too  angry  with  her  father  to  (rust  himseH 
to  speak  to  her  ou  the  subject,  and  his  silence  mad,  Cyu 
thia  miserable. 

'  Neal  did  not  acknowledge  for  a  moment  flint  the  stand 
taken  by  Mr.  Franklin -was  perfectly  justifiable  and  natural, 
and  he  allowed  his  resentment  to  burn  furiously,  making 
no  effort  to  overcome  it. 

His  mistake  from  the  beginning  had  been  concealment, 
but  this  he  had  yet  to  realize.  He  fancied  that  it  AMU, 1,1 
be  lowering  to  his  pride  to  make  any  explanation  what- 
ever. 

Let  them  think  what  they  liked,  he  did  not  care,  he  said 
to  himself  again  and  again. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


THE   RIGHT  AND  THE  WRONG   OF  IT. 

rilHERE  is  perhaps  a  question  as  to  what  is  the  proper 
-L  position  for  the  best  aud  healthiest  bicycle  riding. 
Some  good  riders  sit  in  one  position,  have  one  length  of 
pedal  stride,  and  use  one  kind  of  ankle  motion,  and  others 
— just  as  good  riders — believe  in  something  entirely  differ- 
ent, aud  prove  it  by  riding  long  distances  or  at  i;r,-at  speed 
without  either  injury  or  discomfort  to  themselves.  The 
suggestions  given  below  must  stand,  therefore,  only  as  sug- 
gestions, which  can  only  he  proved  by  you  yourself  to  he 
correct  after  you  have  followed  them  for  some  time,  and 
found  them  of  benefit  to  yourself.  They  are  followed  by 
many  good  road  riders  aud  racers,  and  that  is  some  recom- 
mendation, aud  for  the  practical  pleasure  of  wheelman  thej 
are  probably  the  best  that  can  be  had. 

In  the  first  place.it  is  taken  for  granted  that  you  are  lid- 
ing  a  bicycle  for  pleasure,  not  as  a  business;  that  you  ride 
of  an  afternoon  say  thirty  miles  or  so,  not  much  more,  that 
occasionally  yon  make  a  day's  trip  to  some  place  and  do 
fifty  miles,  and  that  perhaps  you  take  a  fortnight's  trip  of 
five  or  six  or  seven  hundred  miles.  In  other  word.-,  ihe 
readers  of  the  EOVND  TABLE,  both  boys  and  girls,  are  the 
subject  of  this  article.  They  do  not  ride  five  hundred 
miles  in  twenty-four  hours  on  a  track  on  thousand-dollar 
wagers,  and  they  refrain  from  trying  to  do  a  mile  in  a  min- 
ute and  fifty  seconds.  They  do  not  "train  "  lor  then  tups. 
but  they  treat  their  wheels  as  they  would  cat-boats  .1, 
horses  or  tennis,  or  any  other  healthy  out-door  sport. 

For  such  people  bicycle  riding  is  not  by  any  means  the 
healthiest  exercise  that  could  be  found.  In  the  hist  place. 
it  is  an  extraordinary  stimulus  to  the  heart.  If  yon  dis- 
mount after  working  up  a  bad  hill  you  may  very  po-.-ihl\ 
find  your  pulse  at  1;">0  —  something  unusual  in  al 
any  running  name.  Then  again,  while  riding  exercises 
certain  muscles  of  the  legs  admirably,  the  shoulders  and 
back  muscles  are  not  only  not  getting  much  training,  but 
in  certain  too  common  positions  they  are  actualU  being 
distorted.  Still  again  there  is  a  constant  tcndenex  to  overdo 
the  thing,  to  ride  too  much,  and  especially  in  tin-  rase  ,,t' 
girls  to  tire  yourself  out,  and  bring  a  strain  on  the  system 
that  may  result  in  something  more  or  less  permanent  in  the 
shape  of  injury. 

All  this  is  not  set  down  at  the  beginning  to  scare  any 
one  away  from  bicycling.  Imperfect  exerei.se  is  better  than 
none,  and  many  people  ride  a  wheel  religiously  who  \Mnil, 1 
not  be  persuaded  to  take  any  other  regular  exercise.  The 
hours  in  the  open  air  on  a  wheel  are  far  better  than  noth- 
iug,  therefore,  and  then,  too,  a  good  many  other  exercises 


915 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


which  are  far  more  general, 
are  for  oue  reason  or  an- 
other beyond  the  reach  of 
some  of  us.  Horseback 
riding,  for  example,  is  a 
much  more  general  and 
temperate  exercise,  but  we 
cauuot  all  support  a  sta- 
ble. Walking  is  no  doubt 
better  than  bicycling  ;  but 
few  of  us  will  walk  regu- 
larly day  after  day  teu 
miles  in  the  proper  form 
and  costume,  while  just 
now  we  are  all  willing  to 
do  twice  that  amount  on 
a  wheel  and  in  correct  cos- 
tume. So  that  bicycling, 
iu  spite  of  its  drawbacks, 
is  distinctly  to  be  encour- 
aged. There  is,  however, 
a  right  way  and  many 
wrong  ones,  and  though 
people  may  disagree  on 
some  of  the  details,  they  do 
not  fail  to  agree  on  general 
principles. 

Bicycling  for  boys  is  dif- 
ferent in  most  details  from 
bicycling  for  girls,  and  we 

TOO  LONG  A  HEAi  II  must   speak    separately   of 

these,  as  indeed   the    two 

should  be  enjoyed  separately  generally.  A  boy  always 
has  more  endurance,  and  can  tire  out  a  girl  in  four 
miles.  He  should  therefore  either  ride  only  in  com- 
pany of  his  own  sex,  or  he  should,  when  riding  with  a  girl, 
keep  to  her  standard  rather  than  try  to  bring  her  up  to 
his.  This  is  hard  work  for  the  boy,  and  needs  his  constant 
attention  during  the  ride,  so  much  so,  indeed,  that  he  will 
do  better  not  to  ride  with  girls  at  all. 

To  begin  with,  then,  let  us  take  the  ordinary  upright  po- 
sition, such  a  position  as  will  correspond  to  the  upright  po- 
sition assumed  by  any  oue  who  is  walking,  by  a  good 
horseman  in  the  saddle,  by  a  cross-country  runner  in  his 
run.  There  are  rules  for  all  these,  and  they  are  relatively 
the  same.  You  want  to  give  yourself  plenty  of  room  tn 
breathe  in.  The  chest  ought  to  be  well  out,  therefore,  the 
shoulders  thrown  back,  and  the  head  up,  so  that  you  will 
not  be  crowding  all  the  veins  that  send  blood  into  your 
head  by  letting  your  neck  sink  into  your  shoulders.  This 
is  the  same  iu  horseback  riding,  running,  walking,  and 


rowing.  You  can  assume  this  position  while  sitting  and 
reading  this  article  by  following  this  simple  rule:  Sit 
scjuarely  cm  the  chair.  Then  tix  your  mind  on  an  imagi- 
nary spot  in  your  chest  bone  or  "  sternum,"  just  half-way 
between  your  pectorals  and  on  a  line  with  them.  Tin -n 
try  to  "lift"  this  point  up  as  high  as  you  can.  Your  abdo- 
men will  naturally  be  contracted,  or  will  "go  in,"  as  you 
say.  The  small  of  your  back  will  curve  iu,  and  the  back  of 
your  neck  at  the  base  of  the  brain  will  press  backwards, 
while  your  chin  is  brought  in  close  to  your  neck  in  front, 
at  the  same  time  the  shoulders  are  pressed  back.  When 
this  position  is  exaggerated,  it  looks  somewhat  pompous 
and  idiolic,  but  it  is  the  correct  position  for  the  trunk  of 
the  body,  and  when  it  becomes  natural  it  looks  natural. 

This  is  the  position  you  should  assume  when  you  are  in 
the  saddle  of  a  bicycle.  Of  course  no  one,  man  or  lin\.can 
keep  up  in  this  position  all  the  time,  but  you  should  keep 
as  near  it  as  you  comfortably  can.  Comfort  is  really  the 
basis  of  all  such  positions, and  while,  to  a  certain  extent, 
comfort  is  the  result  of  habit,  still  a  more  upright  position 
is  more  natural  to  one  than  to  another  rider. 

This  upright  seat  is  dependent  on  itself.  That  is  to  say, 
you  should  get  in  the  habit  of  taking  it  so  easily  that, 
supposing  you  could  ride  with  handles,  you  would  sit  thus 
nevertheless.  In  other  words,  you  should  not  depend  on 
your  hands  and  the  grip  they  have  on  the  handles  for  sup- 
port at  all.  The  hands  and  arms  are  not  needed  as  you  sit 
in  a  chair,  nor  as  you  walk,  nor  as  you  ride  a  horse,  except 
as  guides  in  one  ease  to  guide  the  horse,  iu  the  other  to  keep 
your  balance  while  walking,  and  finally  on  the  bicycle  to 
guide  the  wheel  and  keep  yourself  balanced  on  it.  If  you 
will  examine  the  two  cuts  accompanying  this  article,  en- 
titled, respectively,  "correct  road  position  "and  "incorrect 
road  position, "you  will  at  once  see  the  difference.  The  incor- 
rect position  shows  a  rider  "  leaning  "  on  his  hands  and  arms. 
The  seat  is  a  very  common  one,  unfortunately,  and  if  you 
examine  the  next  twenty  riders  you  meet,  especially  those 
who  have  ridden  fifteen  or  twenty  miles,  you  are  likely  to 
find  most  of  them  in  this  condition.  The  arms  are  rigid, 
the  body  is  leaning  on  them.  This  thrusts  the  shoulders 
back  uutil  the  shoulder-blades  touch  each  other  behind  the 
shoulders.  The  lungs  and  neck  are  pushed  forward,  and 
every  single  muscle  and  nerve  in  the  upper  part  of  the 
trunk  and  neck  is  out  of  place.  The  result  is  that  neither 
heart  nor  lungs  get  good  opportunity  for  action,  and  the 
shape  of  your  upper  body  is  slowly  but  surely  being  deform- 
ed. In  the  other  position,  the  correct  one,  the  rider  could  at 
any  moment  take  his  hands  from  the  handle-bar  and  not 
alter  his  position  in  any  way.  The  two  contrasted  speak 
for  themselves. 

It  may,  of  course,  be  said  that  when  a  rider  becomes  tired 


CORRECT  ROAD  POSITION. 


INCORRECT  ROAD  POSITION. 


916 


HARPER'S   ROUXD   TABLE 


CORRECT  SCORCHING. 


INCORRECT  SCORCHING. 


•with  riding,  the  incorrect  position  is  a  great  rest.  lu  the 
first  place,  tins  is  uot  true  if  he  has  raithfiilly  learned  to 
riile  in  the  upright  scat.  Then  the  other  becomes  nneom- 
fortalilr.  In  the  correct  position  the  wheelman  bas  his 
arms  a  trifle  bent  at  the  elbow,  so  that  when  he  goes  over 
any  uneveiiuess  in  the  road  his  arms  give,  and  he  avoids 
the  shaking  of  his  whole  body  by  the  jounce,  to  say  no- 
thing of  the  certainty  of  giving  his  wheel  an  unpleasant 
shaking  np. 

In  the  most  modern  wheels  the  position  of  the  rider  is 
almost  that  of  a  pedestrian — that,  is,  the  pedals  are  almost 
under  the  saddle,  so  that  be  treads  directly  up  and  down. 
This  helps  him  in  keeping  his  seat  without  the  aid  of  hands 
and  anus, and  it  makes  all  the  muscles  of  the  legs  and  thighs 
work  in  their  proper  places,  and  the  whole  action  of  his 
body  thus  becomes  natural.  All  this  can  be  seeu  iu  the 
"  correct  position,"  anil  there  can  hardly  be  a  question  that 
this  is  the  natural  position  for  a  man  to  take  when  be 
mounts  his  wheel  for  a  run  of  a  few  miles.  It  naturally 
brings  part  of  the  weight  of  the  body  on  the  pedals, 
relieves  the  very  uncomfortable  weight  on  the  saddle,  and 
helps  a  rider  to  balance  himself  without  the  use  of  han- 
dle -  bars,  thus  avoiding  the  "wriggling"  of  the  wheel, 
which  is  so  tiresome  and  so  deadening  to  a  steady  road 
gait. 

The  position  of  a  man  who  is  racing  is,  of  course,  quite 
different,  and  it  has  a  parallel  iu  horse-racing.  A jockey 
when  he  is  riding  a  racing  horse  iu  a  big  race  rises  in  bis 
stirrups,  leans  far  forward,  and  crouches  on  the  horse's  neck; 
but  because  a  jockey  does  this  iu  a  ran- — and  advisedly  so 
— is  no  reason  for  a  gentleman  to  do  the  same  when  he  is 
out  for  a  janut  on  his  cob  of  au  afternoon.  The  two  seats 
are  both  correct,  but  each  belongs  to  its  sphere.  So  it  is 
with  the  bicycle.  The  racing  or  "  scorching  "  position  is  a 
difficult  one  to  represent  in  a  photographic  reproduction, 
because  each  man  has  his  own  particular  ideas,  and  as  most 
men  who  race  make  a  study  of  the  subject,  the  result  is  that 
there  are  many  different  ideas.  The  general  principle  is, 
however,  to  get  a  strong  purchase  on  the  handles  in  order 
to  give  yourself  greater  power  in  thrusting  down  on  the 
pedals,  and  at  the  same  time  to  curl  up  the  body  in  order 
to  give  as  little  resistance  to  the  air  as  possible.  Any  one 
who  has  ridden  against  the  wind  will  realize  what  au 
enormous  difference  the  air  makes  on  bis  speed,  and  this 
is,  of  course,  multiplied  when  the  rider  is  going  at  a  record- 
breaking  speed. 

But  there  are  correct  and  incorrect  racing  positions,  and 
the  two  illustrations  on  the  subject  will  give  you  a  sugges- 
tion of  these.  A"  scorching"  position  cannot  be  taken  on 
a  bicycle  where  the  saddle  and  handle-bars  have  been  ar- 
ranged for  the  upright  road  position.  This  can  be  easily 
seen  by  referring  to  the  illustrations  again.  In  the  convet 
scorching  position  the  handles  are  very  low  down,  and  the 


seat  is  raised  and  tipped  forward,  so  that  the  rider,  while 
pulling  up  strongly  on  the  handles,  is  practically  only  lean- 
ing against  the  saddle,  and  putting  all  his  weight  on  the 
pedals.  The  back  is  curved  rather  than  straight,  because  a 
much  greater  purchase  can  be  obtained  in  this  way  :  and 
indeed  the  curved  back  makes  a  much  more  vigorous  and 
symmetrical  attitude. 

The  important  point  to  remember  is,  however,  that  you 
cannot  assume  the  scorching  position  and  the  upright  mail 
position  on  the  same  bicycle  without  putting  on  different 
handle-bars.  Hence,  when  you  see  a  man  tr\ing  this  po>i- 
tiou  with  high  handles  you  know  he  is  wrong.  On  I  In- 
other  hand,  to  start-  out  for  a  pleasant  afternoon  run 
through  the.  country  for  twenty-five  miles  in  a  scorching 
position  is  just  as  absurd  as  it  would  be  if  a  man  riding  a 
horse  'in  the  Park  for  pleasure  should  assume  the  jockey 
seat.  There  is  neither  rhyme  nor  reason  iu  it.  Finally,  a 
half-way  position — one  between  the  upright  and  the  scorch- 
ing positions — is  worst  of  all. 

Another  important  point  iu  road-riding  is  the  height  of 
the  saddle  above  the  lowest  point  iu  the  arc  described  by 


CORRECT  LENGTH  OF  REACH. 


917 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


tin-  pedals.  Experience  has  shown  that  when  the  pedal  is 
nt  its  lowest  and  you  are  sitting  squarely  on  the  saddle, 
your  heel  should  he  on  a  level  with  the  toe  of  the  hoot 
and  your  knee  a  trifle  bent.  Or,  to  put  it  differently,  it  should 
be  possible  for  yon  to  plaee  the  ball  of  your  foot  on  the 
pedal  and  follow  it  around  in  its  circle  without  absolutely 
straighteuiug  your  leg  to  its  utmost.  Or,  still  again,  as 
other  people  describe  it,  you  should  be  ahle  to  put  the  toe 
of  your  shoe  under  the  pedal  and  keep  it  there  all  the  way 
round,  the  leg  being  straightened  at  the  longest  stretch. 
The  illustration-representing  this  shows  the  correct  length 
of  stride,  and  by  referring  to  another  cut  you  will  see  what 
results  when  the  rider  has  raised  his  seat  so  high  that  he 
is  obliged  to  let  his  toes  point  down  with  a  straight  leg  in 
order  to  follow  the  pedal  around.  This  illustration,  repre- 
senting too  long  a  stride,  shows  by  the  wriukles  in  the 
rider's  trousers  and  shirt  that  he  is  compelled  to  lower  not 
only  his  hips  but  his  whole  side  and  shoulder,  and,  of 
course,  the  same  is  repeated  alternately  on  the  other  side. 
As  these  photographs  were  taken  by  an  instantaneous 
>lidr,  and  the  riders  were  in  motion,  they  are  all  actual  po- 
sitions during  riding,  and  as  such  illustrate  exactly  what 
happens  in  each  case. 

In  this  case  of  too  long  a  stride  there  is  real  danger  to 
health  in  the  long-run.  The  wheelman  makes  many  thou- 
sand revolutions  in  a  week,  and  rides  throughout  a  good 
part  of  the  year,  anil  any  one  can  see  in  a  moment  that  this 
constant  working  of  all  the  vital  parts  of  the  body  must  be 
anything  but  healthy.  Furthermore,  aside  from  the  ques- 
tion of  health  altogether,  a  wheelman  becomes  quickly  tired 
out  with  this  continual  shifting.  He  may  not  kuow  what 
is  the  cause  of  his  weariness,  but  it  is  sure  to  be  parth  due 
to  it  if  he  rides  in  that  way.  There  is  no  reason  why  a 
rider  should  want  to  have  a  long  stride.  It  does  not  make 
any  greater  speed,  and  it  actually  detracts  from  the  power 
of  his  stroke. 

Now  a  word  as  to  the  ankle  movement.  Of  course  the 
force  applied  through  the  foot  to  the  pedal  at  the  moment 
when  the  latter  is  one-quarter  way  round  the  circle  from 
the  top,  or,  in  other  words,  half- way  "down,"  is  the  most 
valuable  and  powerful.  Just  as  in  rowing,  the  strength  put 
into  the  oar  wheu  it  is  exactly  at  right  angles  with  the 
boat  is  the  most  valuable.  And,  furthermore,  the  earlier 
or  later  the  strength  is  applied  to  the  pedals  the  less  and 
less  powerful  it  becomes  so  far  as  sending  the  wheel  ahead 
goes.  If  you  press  down  hard  when  the  pedal  is  nearly  or 
fully  down  to  its  lowest  point  you  are  scarcely  seudiug  the 
wheel  ahead  at  all,  and  all  your  exertion  goes  for  nothing 
therefore.  Practically  speaking,  in  order  to  get  the  best 
of  your  strength  in  at  the  quarter-circle  point  you  should 
begin  to  push,  aud  push  vigorously,  the  moment  the  pedal 
has  passed  by  its  highest  point.  The  push  should  be  quick 
and  short,  and  should  stop  as  soon  as  possible  after  the 
quarter-circle  point  has  been  passed.  There  is  an  instant 
of  rest  there,  and  then  the  heel  should  be  raised  a  little  and 
a  sharp  upward  and  backward  pull  made  on  this  same 
pedal  at  the  same  instant  that  the  downward  push  is  being 
made  on  the  other  pedal  with  the  other  foot.  As  a  result, 
the  rider  is  pulling  up  with  one  foot  while  he  is  push- 
ing down  with  the  other,  and  there  are  therefore  two  dis- 
tinct motions  with  each  leg  during  a.  single  revolution  of 
the  pedal.  Many  riders  only  push  downward,  and.  allow 
the  pedals  to  rise  of  their  own  accord,  so  to  speak,  but  they 
waste  a  part  of  the  force  of  each  revolution  by  this — not  a 
half,  but  fully  one-third  of  what  they  might  easily  put 
into  it. 

As  a  result  of  this  the  heel  takes  a  different  position  rel- 
ative to  the  toe  at  different  parts  of  one  revolution  At 
the  top  and  bottom  the  two  are  on  the  same  level,  but  the 
heel  goes  down  quicker  than  the  toe  and  comes  up  quicker. 
This  is  very  tiresome  for  the  beginner,  aud  he  soon  finds 
the  calves  of  his  legs  aching  sharply,  but  in  time  he  will 
become  accustomed  to  it,  and  the  added  amount  of  speed 
which  he  gets  out  of  his  machine  is  surprising  even  to 
himself. 

There,  is  not  space  enough  left  to  say  anything  of  girls' 
riding,  but  some  time  in  the  future  this  should  have  a  short 
article  by  itself. 


MAY   BE  SO. 

BY   RUTH   JIcENERY   STUART. 

SEPTEMBER  butterflies  flew  thick 
O'er  flower-bed  and  clover-rick, 
When  little  Miss  Penelope. 
Who  watched  them  from  grandfather's  knee. 

Said,  "(iraudpa.  what's  a   butterfly.'" 

And,  "Where  do  flowers  go  when  they  die?" 

For  questions  hard  as  hard  can  be 

I  recommend  Penelope. 

But  grandpa  had  a  playful  way 
Of  dodging  things  too  hard  to  say, 
By  giving  fantasies  instead 
Of  serious  answers,  so  he  said, 

"  Whene'er  a  tired  old  flower  must  die, 
Its  soul  mounts  in  a  butterfly; 
Just  now  a  dozen  snow- wings  sped 
From  out  that  white  petunia  bed  ; 

"And  if  you'll  search,  you'll  find,  I'm  sure, 
A  dozen  shrivelled  cups  or  more; 
Each  pansy  folds  her  purple  cloth, 
And  soars  aloft  in  velvet  moth. 

"So  when  tired  sunflower  doffs  her  cap 
Of  yellow  frills  to  take  a  nap, 
'Tis  but  that  this  surrender  brings 
Her  soul's  release  on  golden  wings." 

"But  is  this  so?     It  ought  to  be," 
.Said  little  Miss  Penelope, 
"Because  I'm  sure,  dear  grandpa,  you 
Would  only  tell  the  thing  that's  true. 

"Are  all  the  butterflies  that  fly 
Eeal  angels  of  the  flowers  that  die  ?" 
Grandfather's  eyes  looked  far  away 
As  if  he  scarce  knew  what  to  say. 

"Dear  little  Blossom,"  stroking  now 
The  golden   hair  upon   her  brow, 
"  I — can't — exactly — say — I — know — it, 
I  only  heard  it  from  a  poet. 

"  And  poets'  eyes  see  wondrous  things, 
Great  mysteries  of  flowers  and  wings, 
And  marvels  of  the  earth  and  sea 
And  sky,  they  tell  us  constantly. 

"  But  we  can  never  prove  them  right, 
Because  we  lack  their  finer  sight ; 
And  they,  lest  we  should  think  them  wrong, 
Weave  their  strange  stories  into  song 

''So  beautiful,  BO  xicmini/  true, 
So  confidently  stated  too, 
That  we,  not  kuowiug  yes  or  no, 
Can  only  hupe  they  may  In    10." 

"  But,  grandpapa,  no  tale  should  close 

With  i/8  or  but*  or   iinty-Iie-*<»-. 

So  let  us  play  we're  poets,  too, 

Aud  then  we'll  AHOIC  that  this  is  true." 


NEW  THINGS  THAT  ARE  OLD. 

IN  spite  of  the  protests  of  inventors,  aud  of  those  who 
believe  they  have  investigated  everything  since  the 
deluge,  that  there  is  nothing  new  under  the  sun,  the  Psalm- 
ist was  right  wheu  he  put  that  thought  into  the  colloquial 
language.  On  the  Assyrian  slabs,  and  on  more  than  one 
old  European  fresco,  is  seen  the  paddle-wheel  for  boats, 
although  the  propeller  is  not  in  evidence.  The  bicycle 
seems  to  have  been  known  iu  China  more  than  two  hun- 
dred years  ago,  and  the  velocipede  was  seen  iu  Europe  even 
before  that.  On  a  pane  of  the  ancient  painted  glass  iu 
the  old  church  at  Stoke  Pogis,  England,  may  be  seen  the 
representation  of  a  young  fellow  astride  of  one  of  these 
machines.  He  is  working  his  way  along  with  the  air  of 
a  rider  who  has  introduced  a  novelty,  and  is  the  object  of 
the  unbounded  admiration  of  a  multitude  of  witnesses. 


918 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


HE 
PUDDING 


I".'  ]>l.':l*i'.i     tO     II 

iddreis  Editor. 


subject  si 


.  if,,-  K,lil.,rMil] 
]..-rtilfiiU  $h<>uld 


VACATION   is   almost   over.     Indeed,  for  some  of  yon 
school  has  already  begun  again,  and  I  like  to  tain  \  \o" 
as  taking  up  your  studies  with  renewed  zest  and  ardor. 
"The  rich  air  is  sweet  with  the  breath  of  September, 

The  sumach  is  .staining  the  hedges  with  red; 
Soft  rests  on  the  hill-slopes  the  light,  we  remember, 

The  glory  of  days  which  so  long  ago  fled, 
When,  brown-cheeked  and  ruddy, 

Blithe-hearted  and  free, 
The  summons  to  study 

We  answered  with  glee. 
Listen  !  oh,  listen  !  once  more  to  the  swell 
Of  the  masterful,  merry  Academy  bell." 

This  stanza  describes  the  feelings  of  grown  people,  mothers 
and  aunties,  and  grandmothers,  who  used  to  go  to  school, 
anil  have  now  arrived  at  the  stage  on  the  road  where  the 
mile-stones  are  inscribed  ''Remember."  Yon  have  not  yet 
roinc  ill  sight  of  these  mile-stones.  Yours  are  still  marked 
with  "Hope,"  "Onward,"  "Courage,"  and  similar  cheery 
words. 

IF  I  were  a  girl  again,  and  could  go  to  school,  I  would  be 
careful,  at  least  I  think  I  would  be  careful,  not  to  lose  any 
time.  Yours  is  foundation-work,  ami  it  is  very  important 
that  this  should  be,  because  the  habits  of  care  and  dili- 
gence you  are  forming  iu  yonr  class-rooms  will  help  you 
through  your  whole  lives.  It  is  really  less  what  you  study 
than  the  way  you  study  it  which  is  the  main  thing  to  be 
considered  now. 

A  GIRL  at  school  cannot,  of  course,  always  be  provided 
with  every  appliance  for  her  work,  but,  as  a  rule,  she  ought 
to  have  her  own  books,  her  own  pads,  pencils,  ink-eraser, 
crnyons,  drawing-paper,  penknife,  and  whatever  else  she 
needs  in  order  to  do  her  work,  so  that  she  is  under  no  ne- 
cessity to  borrow  from  her  friends.  What  would  you  think 
of  a  carpenter  who  came  to  your  house  without  tools, 
and  had  to  ask  the  loan  of  some  ?  or  a  doctor  who  forgot 
his  prescription-hook  or  his  medicines,  and  had  to  lose  time 
and  pains  until  he  could  send  around  to  an  acquaintance 
and  procure  others,  while  his  patient. was  waiting  to  lie  re- 
lieved?  Have  your  tools,  girls,  and  keep  thrm  in  ordrr, 
and,  if  you  must  sometimes  lend,  exact  a  speedy  return, 
politely  and  gently,  but  firmly,  for  we  must  sometimes  insist 
on  our  rights,  and  then  just  as  firmly  resolve  not  to  borrow 
unless  the  circumstances  are  exceptional.  Have  your  own 
tools. 

SCHOOL-BOOKS  should  be  laid  aside  as  you  leave  them 
for  other  and  more  advanced  books,  neither  given  away 
nor  parted  with  out  of  the  family,  though  you  may  allow  a 
younger  sister  or  brother  to  use  them,  if  you  choose.  By- 
and-by  you  may  he  glad  to  have  your  school-books  to  refer 
to,  and  you  will  find  that  they  are  as  useful  as  much  larger 
volumes,  and  easier  to  keep  at  hand;  they  have  been  pre- 
pared by  learned  and  thoughtful  experts,  and  have  the 
advantage  of  being  carefully  condensed.  After  your  school- 
life  is  over  you  will  very  much  enjoy  the  possession  of  a 
shelf  full  of  text-books,  once  your  daily  companions. 

YOUR  teachers  will  tell  you  of  histories,  books  of  travel, 
poems,  and  novels  which  they  would  like  yon  to  read  out- 
side of  your  regular  work.  Time  spent  in  this  svaj  is  rerj 
pleasant,  so  do  not- shirk  your  supplementary  reading. 
Do  not,  in  fact,  shirk  anything.  School  days  are  such 
happy  days  thnt  they  ought  to  he  free  from  any  omissh.n- 
of  which  conscience  will  have  a  right  to  complain. 

YOUR  dearest  friend,  and  the  next  and  next  dearest,  an- 
at  school  with  > on,  ami  what  pleasures  yon  share,  what 
ambitious,  what  confidences !  Do  not  let  any  stupid  person 


laugh  at  you  for  bring  enthusiastic  about  your  friend  -. 
you  have  a  beautiful  time  with  her,  and  she  has  with  you 
and  if  any  one  makes  fun  of  it,  she  shows  that  she  has 
r..rv,<.tten  how  girls  feel.  Mothers  nc\er  eonsider  then- 
da  lighter's  friendships  as  mailers  of  small  importance,  and 
usually  they  love  Maivia's  an.  I  K.  lull's  friends  almost  as 
dearly  as  the  girls  themselves  do.  Re  sure  to  ha\e  friends 
whom  you  are  proud  to  introduce  to  the  dear  mother.  \\  ho 
is  a  girl's  very  truest  friend,  \\hen  all  is  said. 

MAY  I  SI-KAK  to  you  now  about  something  else  .'  All  this 
summer  I  have  been  travelling  twice  a  day  on  a  suburban 
train.  Early  in  the  morning  I  have  left  the  beautiful 
mountains,  and,  whirling  through  pleasant  villages  and 
thriving  towns,  finally  skirting  lo\e]y  meadows  and  nroad 
marsh-lands,  I  have  come  to  this  busy,  bustling  city  ol'N'ew 
York.  In  the  afternoon  I  have  gone  back  over  the  same 
way,  leavingthe  city  behind  me.  and  returning  to  the  beau- 
tiful country  in  the  hills  in  time  to  see  the  lingering  sun- 
set. From  day  to  day,  through  the  car  windows,  I  have. 
had  glimpses  of  the  most  beautiful  (lowers.  This  morning 
the  meadows  and  swamps  were  gorgeous  with  the  bloom 
of  the  marshmallow  —  a  vivid,  blushing  pink.  I  have  never 
seen  so  many  wild  roses  hi  my  life  as  this  summer,  nor  such 
acres  of  daisies  in  the  day  of  them,  and  now  the  whole 
country  is  gay  and  glowing  with  our  beautiful  American 
flower,  the  golden-rod.  My  views  through  the  ear  win- 
dows have  been  charming,  but  inside  the  car  I  have  some- 
times observed  what  was  very  much  less  pleasant  to  see. 
For  example,  on  a  warm  afternoon  a  young  girl  will  calmly 
take  a  whole  seat,  when  she  is  entitled  only  to  half  of  it, 
piling  her  bags  and  bundles  on  the  other  half,  on  the  shady 
side  of  the  car  too  j  then,  becoming  absorbed  in  a  hook,  she 
will  pay  no  heed  to  the  needs  of  other  people,  who  have  to 
seat  themselves  in  the  sun.  The  other  day  a  girl  persisted 
in  keeping  a  window  open,  though  this  was  evidently  to 
the  great  discomfort  of  an  elderly  gentleman,  unmistakably 
an  invalid,  who  was  sitting  quite  near.  Do  not  let  us  fail 
in  small  courtesies  on  the  road  of  life.  We  shall  be  much 
happier  at  the  end  of  the  day  if  we  have  always  been  polite 
and  kind  to  every  one  whotu  we  have  met. 


ON 


BOARD    THE    ARK. 

BY   ALBERT  LEE. 
CHAPTER    VI. 

NONE  of  the  animals  paid  the  slightest  attention  to 
Tommy  and  the  ex-Pirate  when  they  came  dow  n  from 
their  uncomfortable  perch  on  the  rafter,  and  strolled  about 
the  big  room.  The  Gopher,  probably  emboldened  by  his 
neighbors'  action,  descended  too,  a  ml  mingled  with  the  other 
beasts.  But,  for  some  reason,  he  managed  to  remain  within 
sight  of  Tommy  and  the  ex-Pirate,  so  that  if  anything  had 
happened  to  him  he  could  have  run  to  them  for  protection 
or  assistance.  Occasionally  he  joined  them  and  coin,  rsi  •! 
for  a  few  moments,  and  then  he  would  wander  off  again  by 
himself. 

"I  guess  they  take  us  for  a  pair  of  animals."  obsi  m  .1 
Tommy,  as  he  glanced  about  at  the  peaceful  beast.-. 
"Some  new  kind,"  he  added. 

"That  must  he  it,"  said  the  ex-Pirate,  absent-mindedly  : 
"  but  I  wish  we  could  find  the  Sheep." 

"  In  this  crowd  ?"  exclaimed  the  Gopher,  who  came  up  at 
that  moment.  "  Why,  that's  like  looking  for  a  beetle  in  a 
smoke-stack." 

The  three  walked   along   for  some  time   iu   silence,  and 
they  saw  all  sorts  of  queer  things  as  they  went.      In   a  re- 
tired corner  the  Hippopotamus  was  shaving  himself  with 
a  razor-backed  Hog,  much  to  the  displeasure   of  the    II..",. 
who  kept  up  a  perpetual  snorting  and  grunt  inu.      N. 
an  old  mother  Pig  was  putting  her  little  Pigs'  tails  up  in 
curl-papers  for  the  night.      Further  along  the  Armadill 
the  Turtles,  the  Hedgehog,  and  the  Porcupine  squatted  c 


919 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


'THEY    WON'T    LET    HIM    PLAY    BECAUSE    HE'S    A    CHEETAH.' 


the  floor  together,  •were  playing  dominoes.  A  Leopardlike 
creature  sat  near  by  watching  the  game,  looking  very  much 
disappointed  aud  mournful. 

"They  won't  let  him  play,"  volunteered  the  Gopher, 
"because  he's  a  Cheetah." 

All  this  time  there  was  much  bustle  and  preparation 
going  on  in  the  middle  of  the  hall.  The  Monkey  tribe,  of 
which  there  must  have  been  a  hundred,  were  bringing  up 
tables  and  stools  and  benches  from  down  below  some- 
where, aud  were  stretching  these  out  the  entire  length  of 
the  big  room.  Tbey  made  a  banqueting  board  much 
longer  than  Tommy  had  ever  seeu  before,  aud  then  they 
laid  plates  and  mugs  along  the  edges,  enough  to  accommo- 
date all.  The  Monkeys  made  first-rate  waiters,  and  the 
big  Gorillas  bossed  them  around,  and  kept  them  working 
"just  like  real  waiters  in  a  restaurant,"  thought  Tommy. 

"There's  tbe  Sheep!"  shouted  the  ex-Pirate,  suddenly, 
and  he  pointed  out  their  old  friend  sitting  on  a  bench  about 
a  third  of  the  way  down  from  the  head  of  the  long  table. 
They  hastened  toward  him,  followed  by  the  Gopher,  who 
was  doubtless  afraid  of  being  crowded  out,  for  the  animals 
were  taking  seats  rapidly. 

The  Sheep  was  overjoyed  when  the  ex-Pirate  sat  down 
beside  him,  and  he  moved  up  closer  to  his  neighbor  on  the 
other  side  so  as  to  make  room  for  Tommy  aud  the  Gopher. 
The  little  boy  sat  on  the  bench  with  the  ex-Pirate  on  his 
left,  and  the  Gopher  on  a  high  stool  at  his  right.  The  Lion 
aud  Lioness  occupied  the  head  of  the  table,  some  distance 
away,  and  the  Bull  sat  at  the  foot. 

"  I  have  been  looking  all  over  for  yon,"  began  the  Sheep, 
"but  you  were  so  well  concealed  I  could  not  find  you. 
When-  did  yon  pick  up  that  Gopher  ?" 

"  Oh,  lie's  all  right,"  answered  the  ex-Pirate.  "  He's  got 
his  ticket  in.-idr." 

The  Gopher  almost  fell  oft"  his  stool.  He  whispered  to 
Tommy,  "Tell  him  not  to  talk  about  my  ticket." 

But  before  Tommy  could  deliver  the  message,  the  Monk- 
eys began  bringing  the  soup  in  on  trays,  and  placed  a  plate 
full  in  front  of  each  one  at  table.  The  Gopher  seized  his 
plate  and  lifted  it  greedily  to  his  face  and  swallowed  all  at 
one  gulp.  Then  he  threw  the  plate  under  the  table,  and 
began  snapping  his  fingers  londly,just  as  if  he  had  not 
been  served  at  all. 

"  You  must  uot  do  that,"  remonstrated  Tommy. 

"Oh  yes,  I  must,"  said  the  Gopher.     Aud  then  he  held 


up       both      hands      and 
snapped  all  fingers. 

"What  dreadful  table 
manners  the  Gopher  has," 
said  the  little  boy  to  the 
ex-Pirate.  "Did  you  see 
what  he  did  ?" 

"  Yes."  answered  the 
latter.  "  It  was  very  rep- 
reheusible.  Worse  than 
anything  I  ever  saw. 
Worst-  than  the  liishop 
of  Shinnikoree." 

"  The  Arch  -  Bishop," 
put  in  the  Sheep. 

"  Arch  -  Bishop  no- 
thing," retorted  the  ex- 
Pirate.  "He  was  only  a 
Bishop." 

"  But  ho  is  an  Arch- 
Bishop  »!««',"  persisted 
the  Sheep. 

"He's  dead  now,"  retort- 
ed the  ex-Pirate. 

"  Yes ;  and  they  carved 
him  in  stone,  and  put  him 
up  over  the  entrance  of 
the  Cathedral,  and  so  be 
is  an  Arch-Bishop,  aiu't 
he?" 

"  Well,  I  suppose  so. 
Anyhow,  he  was  mighty 
queer  at  table." 

"You  never  told -me  about  the  Bishop  before,"  said 
Tommy. 

"I  know  it,"  answered  the  ex-Pirate.  "But  if  I  had 
the  third  volume  of  my  collected  poems  here,  I  could  read 
to  you  about  him.  He  was  dreadful.  Worse  than  the 
Gopher." 

"Can't  you  remember  about  him?"  pleaded  the  little 
boy. 

"  Part,  I  guess.  Let  me  see,"  aud  the  ex-Pirate  reflected 
in  silence  for  a  moment.  Then  he  began  : 

u  There  once  was  a  Bishop 

Whu  tossed  every  dish  up 
The  moment  lie  sat  down  to  table; 

At  juggling  with  plates 

Full  of  apples  and  dates 
He  was  really  exceedingly  able. 

"  He  would  stand  on  his  head 

When  he  buttered  his  bread, 
And  his  neighbors  he  gayly  would  banter, 

While  he  gave  a  wild  whoop 

At  the  sight  of  pea  soup 
Which   was  served  in  a  cut-glass  decanter. 

"  With  fish-balls  and  prunes, 

And  fresh  macaroons, 
The  Bishop  was  likewise  quite  clever; 

To  pile  them  up  high, 

And  swallow  them  dry, 
Was  his  constant  consistent  endeavor. 

"  He  could  drink  salad  oil 

By  the  pint,  and  not  spoil 
The  perfect  success  of  digestion ; 

And  having  well  dined, 

And  copiously  wined, 
He  could  turn  a  handspring  without  question." 

"  Goodness,"  commented  Tommy.  "  Where  did  you  say 
he  bishoped?" 

"At  Shiuuikoree,"  answered  the  ex-Pirate. 

"I  did  uot  hear  that  last  verse,"  broke  in  the  Gopher, 
swallowing  his  sixth  plate  of  soup.  "Can't  you  recite  it 
again  ?" 

••  No,  I  cannot,"  replied  the  ex-Pirate,  severely.  "  If  you 
don't  look  out  I'll  write  a  piece  about  you." 

This  seemed  to  frighten  the  Gopher,  for  he  snapped  his 
fingers  again  and  took  another  plate  of  soup. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


920 


*INTERSCHOEASTIC& 


LAST  WEEK  THIS  DEPARTMENT  DISCUSSED  the  preparatory 
•work  and  training  of  football-players ;  in  this  issue  I  want 
to  speak  briefly  of  team-play.  The  American  game  has 
now  become  such  that  team-work  is  its  most  important 
feature.  Brilliant  individual  players  are  valuable,  and  ev- 
ery captain  should  bo  glad  to  have  as  many  as  he  can  get ; 
but  I  should  much  prefer  to  captain  an  eleven  made  up 
of  inferior  players  who  worked  well  together,  than  a  team 
of  brilliant  individuals  who  played  each  for  himself. 
Walter  Camp  says  that  "  team-work  is  the  road  to  victory," 
and  he  ought  to  know.  It  is  plain  that  if  yon  have  eleven 
men  working  as  one,  and  directing  all  their  force  against  a 
single  point,  you  have  a  much  more  formidable  engine  than 
if  the  individuals  making  up  the  team  are  doing  their  best 
according  to  their  own  conceptions  of  the  requirements  of 
the  situation. 

THERE  is  A  GREATER  OPPORTUNITY  for  team-work  in  de- 
fensive than  in  aggressive  play.  The  former  aft'ords  an 
excellent,  chance  for  the  placing  of  the  men  so  that  they 
can  concentrate  their  efforts  to  the  best  advantage  in  the 
resistance  of  the  opponents'  play.  The  captain  decides  be- 
forehand who  shall  go  through  to  tackle  behind  the  line, 
who  shall  wait  to  see  where  the  ball  is  coming  through, 
and  then  block  the  runner,  who  shall  wait  back  of  the  line 
as  a  reserve  force,  only  to  act  if  the  ball  is  carried  into 
his  territory.  There  is  also  always  plenty  of  opportunity 
for  team-play  in  the  working  together  of  several  rush-line 
men  in  the  defense,  as,  for  instance,  when  two  or  three 
block  off  the  attack's  interference  while  another  tackles 
the  man  with  the  ball. 

THE  BEST  TEAM-WOHK  in  the  rush-line,  however,  is  to  be 
obtained  by  the  playing  together  of  the  centre  and  his  two 
guards.     It  is  absolutely  necessary  that  these  men  should 
act  like  a  machine,  with  precision  and  celerity,  for  they  are 
the   keystone  of  the   whole   team.     They   should 
not  only  have  a  perfect  understanding  among  one 
another,  but  with  the    men   behind  them.     They 
must  watch  the  opposing  backs,  and  try  to  let  their 
own  rear  men  through  upon  them  wherever  a  cer- 
tain   defense  for   certain    plays    may    seem    best. 
The  ends  and  tackles  form  another  division  of  the 
rush-lini-  which  acts  as  a  unit.     It  is  the  business 
of  these  men  to  stop  the  runs  around  the  ends,  of 
course,  but  now  that  the  development  of  the  game 
has  brought  in  so  many  rushes  through  the  line, 
between  tackle  and  end,  or  tackle  and  guard,  tin- 
four  end  men  must  play  into  one  another's  hands 
in   the  tackling  of  opponents  and  in  the  blocking 
of  holes  that  the  men  opposite  are  trying  to  make. 

THE  MEN  HACK  OF  THE  LINE  must  also  have  a 
perfect  understanding  among  themselves  as  to 
what  each  one  will  do  in  certain  emergencies.  As 
in  chess,  they  must  have  one  or  more  "defenses" 
for  known  attacks,  and  they  must  know  which  one 
of  these  defenses  it  is  best  to  use  under  given 
conditions.  The  backs  supplement  the  work  of 
the  for  wards  in  defensive  play  against  rush-line 
work,  but  the  conditions  are  reversed  in  resisting 
a  kick.  Against  a  kick  the  backs  are  the  main  de- 
fense— that  is,  the  team  as  a  whole  depends  upon 
one  of  the  four  men  back  of  the  line  to  make  the 
next  play,  and  each  man  of  the  four  must  know 
as  soon  as  the  kick  is  made  which  one  is  to  get 
the  ball.  In  the  defense  against  a  kick,  therefore, 
the  rushers  supplement  the  work  of  the  backs. 


WHEN  I  SAY  THAT  THE  IJUSH-UNE  supplements  the  work 
of  tin1  backs,  I  do  not  mean  that  their  efforts  are  to  be 
considered  in  any  way  secondary.  At  the  beginning  of  a 
kick  play  it  has  been  their  work  to  hold  the  opposing  line 
as  long  as  possible  in  order  to  keep  the  attacking  forwards 
off  their  own  men,  who  are  engaged  in  receiving  and  hand- 
ling the  kick.  Frequently  the  ends  take  an  important 
part  in  the  defense  against  a  kick  by  coming  back  with 
their  opponents,  bothering  them  as  much  as  possible,  and 
being  always  ready  to  block  or  interfere  for  their  own  back 
should  he  see  a  good  opportunity  open  for  a  run. 

Now  THAT  THE  RULES  have  been  amended  so  as  to  re- 
quire actual  kicks,  it  is  interesting  to  note  some  of  the  new 
plays  that  have  been  adopted  to  give  the  rushers  the  op- 
portunity to  get  possession  of  the  ball  again  as  quickly  as 
possible.  Last  year  the  big  college  teams  tried  all  sorts 
of  expedients  to  achieve  this  end.  One  method  put  to  the 
test  was  to  kick  the  ball  against  the  opponents  with  suffi- 
cient force  to  insure  its  bounding  back  out  of  the  immedi- 
ate reach  of  the  man  whom  it  struck.  This  method,  al- 
though it  sometimes  worked,  is  hardly  a  satisfactory  one, 
ami  will  probably  be  used  only  as  an  occasional  trick  in 
unimportant  games  this  year.  Another  experiment  was  a 
rolling  kick  between  the  rushers,  but  in  a  diagonal  direc- 
tion so  extreme  as  to  give  an  eud  or  a  tackle  a  chance  of 
securing  it. 

IN  THE  SAME  MANNER  a  diagonal  kick,  short,  over  tin- 
heads  of  the  first  men  of  the  opponents,  was  exploited  by 
some  of  the  adventurous  captains.  But  toward  the  end  of 
the  season  the  problem  narrowed  itself  down  to  a  question 
of  the  relative  value  of  a/kick,  short  enough,  and  in  a  suf- 
ficiently high  slanting  direction,  to  enable  the  rushers  to 
get  fairly  well  down  to  its  falling-point,  and  a  long  kick 
driving  the  opponents  back,  admitting,  it  is  true,  of  a  run 


THE     \VE1H.;  K    FORMATION. 


921 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


in  because  the  rushers  cannot  reach  the  dropping-point  iu 
time  to  down  the  mail  receiving  the  ball.  Both  methods 
found  strong  advocates,  and  were  used  iu  about  equal  pro- 
portions. 

AND  THEN  AS  TO  THE  RETURNING  of  the  kick.  Until  the 
rules  were  changed  "  returning  a  kick  "  meant  catching  the 
punt  -of  an  opponent,  and,  without  stopping  for  a  down, 
pnntiug  it  back  again  before  the  opponents  could  prevent. 
Naturally  this  was.  among  the  big  teams,  much  more  talk 
than  practice,  for  it  was  a  rare  exception  when  such  an 
opportunity  offered.  With  the  new  kick-off,  however,  there 
is  certainly  an  excellent  chance  for  a  return  kick.  A  man 
can  make  the  most  of  his  run  in,  and  just  before  the  op- 
ponents meet  him  he  can  get  iu  his  kick,  if  that  is  his  play. 

ANOTHER  INTERESTING  MATTER  is  the  distribution  of  the 
men  on  the  line-up  for  the  kick-off,  and  it  gives  ample  room 
for  the  ingenuity  of  coaches  and  captains.  One  effective 
placing  of  the  men  is  this : 


o  C 


LG  O 


O  RG 


LT  O 


O  RT 


OQB 


i,  i: 


o 

HB 


F  B 


O 
H  B 


ORE 


As  the  ball  comes  sailing  over,  the  forwards  swing  into  its 
direction,  and  become  most  effective  running  interference 
for  whichever  back  catches  aud  runs  with  the  ball.  This 
play,  if  frequently  practised,  can  be  made  very  effective. 

IN  DEFENSIVE  TEAM-WORK  one  of  the  most  important 
things — uext  to  watching  the  ball,  of  course — is  for  every 
man  to  try  to  discover  what  play  the  opposing  eleven  is 
going  to  make  next.  Having  found  what  it  will  probably 
be,  their  endeavor  must  be  to  throw  their  wbole  force 
against  it.  It  is  frequently  possible  to  determine  not  only 
what  the  enemy's  probable  move  will  be,  but  exactly  what 
it  will  be.  This  can  most  frequently  be  done  by  noting 
how  the  half-backs  stand,  or  how  the  quarter-back  is  stand- 
ing or  looking.  Men  will  unconsciously  glance  in  the  di- 
rection tbey  are  about  to  run.  If  a  rusher  is  to  take  the 
ball,  it  is  easier  to  uote  that  fact  than  when  the  leather  is 
going  to  a  half-back,  because  the  rusher  is  bound  to  a»nnic 
a  somewhat  different  position  from  that  he  would  take  if 
he  were  only  going  to  block,  or  make  a  hole,  or  break 
through. 

As  SOON  AS  THE  CAPTAIN  or  any  other  player  discovers, 
or  feels  reasonably  confident  that  he  has  discovered,  what 
the  next  play  of  the  opposing  team  is  going  to  be,  he  should 
impart  the  information  to  the  rest  of  the  team.  He  should 
try  to  do  this  as  secretly  as  possible,  however,  or  else  the 
opponents  will  have  time  to  change  their  signal  and  make 
an  entirely  different  advance.  It  is  in  a  case  like  this  that 
quick  work  counts,  for  if  yon  line  up  aud  give  your  signal 
quickly  the  opposing  players  can  scarcely  have  time  to  no- 
tice the  many  little  points  that  give  away  the  next  move, 
and  so  it  is  harder  for  them  to  meet  it. 

QUICK  PLAY  is  ESSENTIAL  to  successful  aud  effective 
team-work.  After  a  scrimmage  aud  a  tlown,  play  should 
begin  at  ouce,  i.e.,  just  as  soon  as  the  centre  can  secure  the 
lull.  Every  man  in  the  rush-line  aud  all  the  backs  should 
be  in  their  positions  without  the  slightest  loss  of  time  after 
they  are  sure  the  man  who  was  running  is  down,  and  all 
should  be  alert  for  the  signal  for  the  next  play,  which  is 
given  during  the  line-up.  Nothing  should  ever  be  allowed 
to  interfere  with  this  rapid  resumption  of  positions  except 
a  serious  injury,  and  then  the  injured  player  should  call  to 
his  captain  for  time.  Any  delay,even  by  one  man,  might 
spoil  the  next  play,  aud  thus  injure  the  chances  of  the 
whole  team. 


AND  NOW  FOR  A  FEW  WORU.S  about  aggressive  play.     Iu 


this,  team-work  is  fully  as  important  as  in  the  defense,  and 
in  some  cases  more  so.  With  the  majority  of  football  elev- 
ens team-work  iu  aggression  is  much  better  doue  and  more 
fully  developed  than  in  defensive  play,  but  it  is  the  team 
that  can  offer  the  best  organized  defense — all  other  things 
being  equal — that  will  stand  the  better  chance  of  success. 
The  chief  aggressive  move  now  in  use,  aud  the  one  thai  has 
been  most  widely  adopted  by  football-players  in  the  past 
five  years,  is  the-  interference  wedge.  This  play  reached 
such  a  stage  of  development  iu  Harvard's  Hying  wedge, 
three  years  ago,  that  it  was  the  main  cause  for  the  latr.st 
revision  of  the  rules  of  the  game.  But  the  old  interference 
wedge  is  a  perfectly  legitimate  football  formation,  aud  can 
be  made  effective  without  being  dangerous. 

Tun  FORMATION  OF  THE  MEN  for  this  play,  as  every  one 
knows,  is  that  of  a  V,  with  the  point  directed  toward  the 
opposing  line.  The  man  who  is  to  run  with  the  ball  stands 
inside  the  two  walls  of  humanity  formed  by  his  mates,  and 
it  should  be  his  endeavor  to  keep  on  running  even  after 
the  original  wedge  formation  has  been  destroyed  by  the 
resistauco  of  the  opponents.  The  latter,  of  course,  never 
know  what  the  runner's  intention  may  be,  whether  tu  rush 
out  at  the  apex,  or  through  one  of  the  sides,  or  to  dodge 
out  backwards  aud  attempt  a  long  run  around  the  end. 
Consequently  they  cannot  devote  their  entire  force  toward 
one  point,  and  the  possibilities  of  gaiuiug  ground  are  thus 
increased  iu  the  favor  of  the  ruuuer. 

IT  is  NOT  WELL,  HOWEVER,  for  the  ruuuer  to  use  his 
own  discretion  as  to  the  manner  in  which  he  shall  escape 
from  the  wedge  after  it  has  come  against  the  opposing 
line.  Team-work  is  invariably  injured  and  weakened  when 
one  player  holds  discretionary  power  in  a  mass  play.  It 
is  best  to  decide  beforehand  where  the  runner  will  break 
through,  aud  have  it  understood  by  two  of  the  rushers  that 
they  are  responsible  for  a  hole.  Of  course,  the  ruuuer  should 
not  always  pass  out  between  the  same  pair.  There  should 
be  variations  in  the  play,  and  the  Captain  should  decide 
when  the  line-up  is  made  just  which  hole  to  use,  judging 
of  this  from  the  appearance  of  the  opposite  line-up,  and 
selecting  the  point  of  egress  where  he  thinks  there  will  be 
the  weakest  resistance.  As  a  rule,  it  is  best  to  use  the 
wedge  only  when  the  opponents  are  restrained  from  ad- 
vancing, as  iu  the  kick-off,  the  kick-out,  and  after  a  fair 
catch,  but  some  of  the  larger  college  teams  have  of  late 
beeu  adopting  the  trick  after  ordinary  downs.  In  the 
Harvard-Yale  game  of  1891,  Yale,  with  the  score  12  to  0 
against  her.  worked  a  wedge  from  the  middle  of  the  field 
to  the  goal-line  and  scored.  Every  play  was  a  wedge  that 
pouuded  the  Harvard  centre,  and  won  a  few  feet  each  time, 
and  at  the  ten  -  yard  line  the  quarter- back,  instead  of 
pounding,  as  he  had  beeu  for  twenty  minutes,  ran  back  and 
went  around  the  end  for  a  touch-down.  But  such  continual 
wedging  as  that  should  be  adopted  only  in  the  most  des- 
perate, case,  and  could  never  be  successful  except  when 
played  by  a  thoroughly  disciplined  team  in  the  best  of 
physical  condition.  Even  so,  it  was  a  severe  strain  on  the 
players'  staying  powers. 

A  WELL-FORMED  WEDGE  is  bound  to  make  some  gain  for 
the  side  using  it,  but  there  are  many  ways  of  meeting  the 
play.  The  most  simple,  and  the  one  which  is  probably 
used  more  than  any  other,  is  that  of  lying  down  before  it. 
There  is  nothing  very  scientific  about  this  kind  of  defense, 
but  it  has  the  compensating  advantage  of  effectiveness  iu 
most  cases.  It  prevents  any  further  advance  of  the  mass, 
for  the  men  at  the  peak  are  forced  to  fall  over  their  pros- 
trate opponents.  The  danger  of  using  too  many  men  for 
this  sort  of  blocking, however, is  that  should  the  runner 
escape  through  a  hole  in  the  side,  or  at  the  opening  iu  the 
rear,  there  are  few  players  left  to  tackle  him. 

THERE  ARE  THE  BACKS,  of  course,  upon  whom  this  duty 
of  tackling  the  runner  should  devolve,  but  rapid  aud  judi- 
cious interference  at  the  proper  moment  may  overcome 
their  ettorts,  and  give  to  the  eueuiy  a  clear  field.  Perhaps 
the  safest  way  to  meet  an  on-coming  wedge  is  to  try  to 
force  the  peak — that  is,  to  so  concentrate  your  resistance  as 


922 


HAKPER'S   BOUND   TABLE 


to  change  the  course  of  the  aggressors  and 
drive  them  across  the  field.  They  are  thus 
exerting  just  as  much  of  their  strength  as 
if  they  were  advancing,  and  yet  are  gaining 
little  or  no  ground.  Some  of  the  other 
methods  1  have  seen  used  are  breaking  iuto 
the  peak  by  main  strength  (and  this  is  the 
method  usually  adopted  against  a  weaker 
team);  and  sending  a  man  over  the  heads 
of  the  loaders,  a  kind  play  of  which  Heffel- 
n'uger  of  Yale  was  the  best  exponent. 

THE  BEST  TEAM-PLAY  to  defeat  the  object 
of  a  kick  is  still  a  matter  of  dispute.  There 
are  so  many  possibilities  in  the  case  and  so 
many  different  directions  for  the  ball  to 
take  that,  after  all,  no  method  can  be  deter- 
mined iipnn  beforehand  as  the  best  defense. 
But  every  team  should  be  provided  with 
several  moves  for  snch  occasions,  and  as 
usual  it  devolves  upon  the  captain  to  decide 
which  play  to  put  in  operation. 

A  VERY  GOOD  WAY  is  to  send  one  or  two 
extra  men  up  into  the  forward  line  (the 
quarter-back  and  a  half-back,  preferably), 
and  then  to  attack  the  kicking  side  at  any 
point  along  which  the  ball  travels  in  its 
course.  In  other  words,  put  as  many  men 
forward  as  you  cau  with  the  object  of  secur- 
ing the  ball  as  soon  after  it  is  put  into  play  ' 
as  possible — while  it  is  being  snapped  bark 
to  the  quarter,  while  it  is  on  its  way  to  the 
half,  while  the  half  is  catching  it,  while  he 
is  preparing  to  kick,  while  lie  is  kicking, 
and  just  as  it  leaves  his  foot. 

IF  THE  KICK  is  SAFELY  MADE,  every  en- 
deavor should  go  toward  neutralizing  its 
effect.  This  cau  be  done  by  good  and  rapid 
team-play  only,  for,  after  all,  the  longest  kick 
is  of  no  great  avail  to  your  opponent  unless 
he  can  keep  the  ball  in  the  territory  he  has 
sent  it  into.  The  tirst  thing  to  do,  there- 
fore, to  neutralize  his  attack  is  to  stop  the 
opposing  ends  who  are  following  the  ball, 
and  the  next-  important  thing  is  to  give  full 
and  perfect  protection  to  your  own  man, 
who  is  receiving  the  ball.  It  depends  upon 
the  style  of  the  kick,  however,  as  to  which 
of  these  two  moves  is  of  the  greatest  im- 
portance, for  if  the  kick  is  a  high  one  little 
can  lie  done  against  the  on-coming  ends,  and 
every  effort  should  be  made  to  protect  the, 
catcher.  Ou  the  other  hand,  if  the  kick  is 
a  long  aud  low  one,  the  catcher  will  need 
less  protection,  and  more  men  cau  be  spared 
to  head  off  the  advance,  of  the  opposing 
rush-line. 

THE  FINAL  POINT  of  the  play  is  the  re- 
turn of  the  ball,  ami  on  the  quickuess  and 
coolness  of  the  back  depends  its  success. 
As  a  rule  it  is  better  for  him  to  run  with  the 
ball,  for  the  field  is  scattered  with  players, 
and  comparatively  clear,  and  by  running 
the  side  retains  possession  of  the  ball  and 
the  chance  to  make  one  or  more  attacking 
moves  that  may  end  iu  a  full  recovery  of 
the  ground  covered  by  the  opponents' 
kick. 

THE 


This   D,,|>  irtm.-rit     is     i  ..n.  hi,  I,    ! 
collectors,  and  the  E,m,,r  »-ill  In-  ,,l,...|-.,l 
these  subjects  so  I'm        ,  ''  Trespunilelits  should  «,Mn 

Stamp  Department. 


"You  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  ride  that 
wheel/' 

••  Why  ?     That's  what  it's  made  for." 
"Can't  yon  see  that  it's  'tired'?" 


states  that  only  73*  U.S. 
silver  dollars  were  coined  in  1894,  and  that 
it  bids  fair  to  rival  its  hundred-year  older 
brother  (1794)  in  rarity  and  value. 

The  National  Bank-Note  Company  print- 
ed all  the  U.  S.  stamps  from  1870  to  1872. 
In  1873  they  turned  over  all  the  plates  to 
the  Continental  Bank-Note  Company  which 
printed  the  U.S.  stamps  until  the  formation 
of  the  American  Bank  -Note  Company  in 
1879.  To  distinguish  the  stamps  printed 
by  them,  the  Continental  Company  placed 
secret  marks  on  probably  every  plate,  al- 
though there  is  still  some  doubt  as  to  the 
secret  marks  on  the  15c.  and  30c.  stamps. 
The  distinguishing  marks  are  as  follows: 

1  CENT.  —  A  minute  dash  with  ends  up- 

turned placed  in  the 
pearl  at  the  left  of 
the  numeral  of  value. 
Proof  specimens  show 
.•i  faint  trace  on  the 

ball  to  the  right  of  the  numeral.     The  halls 

iu  the  original  are  all  white. 

2  CENTS.  —  The  white  line  which  encloses 
the  words  "  U.  S.  Pos- 

tage"  turns   up   in   a, 

ball  on  each  side  ;  the 

ball  above  the  "  U  "  in- 

terrupts four  shading 

lines   of  the  frame,  the  "mark"  closes  up 

the  iuuer  space  aud  leaves  it  solid,  while  iu 

the  original  it  is  opeu. 

3  CENTS.  —  The  ribbou  inscribed  jvith  the 

value  has  the  border 
where  it  is  turned 
under  at  the  left  side 
made  dark:  in  the 
original  it  has  a  white 
edge  surrounding  it. 

6  CENTS.  —  The    ribbon    inscribed    with 
the    value    has    four 

dark  lines  of  shading 
where  it  turns  under 
at  the  left  side;  in 
the  original  these 
lines  are  much  shorter  and  thiner. 

7  CENTS.  —  The  angles  of  the  ball  in  the 


right  low  er  eoi  n.  i   of 
frame,  arc'  capped  by 

a.   minute    senile 

of  colcii- ;    in    i  lie    ori- 
ginal IPO!  h  lo\\  c  i  col 

in  rs  are  1  he  same-. 
Ill  t'r.XTs. -The  label    containing  the-  in- 
scription "II.  S.  Pos- 
tage "      is      bordered 
\\ilh    a    white'    line 
which  turns  up  in  a 
ball     at     each    end. 
That    at    1  lie  right    encloses  a  minute  semi- 
circular marls  :  on   the  original  the-  hall  is 
white  on  each  side. 

la  CENTS.  —  The 
ligmv  y  at  the  tin  n 
encloses  a  colored 

clot     ab,,\e     and     be- 
low;    the     01  ii: 
d t  show   color. 

24  CENTS.— The  last  of  the  half -circle  of 
thirteen  stais  ha». 
the-  .shading  of  the 
four  lower  points 
deepened;  in  the 
original  the  shading 
is  equal  throughout,  and  the  same  as  on  the 
other  stars. 

90  CENTS. — The  shading  of  the  four  low- 
er IMlilltsof  the  1  iullt- 

hand  star  has  been 
ih  e|,eiied ;  iu  the 
original  both  stars 
an1  shaded  the  same'. 
15 CENTS. — The  secret  mark  on  this  value 
has  not  yet  been  satisfactorily  identified. 
Some  think  that  the  mark  lies  in  the  outer 
lines  of  the  triangle  at  the  lower  left  cor- 
ner, as  some  of  the  Continental  printed 
stamps  show  a  much  hea\  ier  shading  on  the 
enclosing  lines  than  is  to  be  found  in  the 
National  printed  stamps. 

30  CENTS. — Also    doubtful.      Some-  claim 
that  there  is  a  little  dot  to  the'   left  of  the 
oval  frame,  but  this  is  probably  only  a  i 
fer  guide. 

One  dealer  in  New  York  supplies  four 
varieties  of  the  lc.,  two  of  the-  -.V..  tin.,  of 
the  3c.,  three  of  the  6c..  t  AC,  of  the  7.  .  three 
ol  lhc>  10c.,  and  two  of  the  r.'e..  nineteen 
varieties  in  all.  including  the  ie  engra  ed 
stamps  for  S3  25. 

M.  C.  H.— The  best  way  to  detach  stamps  from  en- 
velopes is  to  wet  them  thoroughly,  when   they  can 
readily  be  taken  off. 
J.  T.  DKLANO,  JUN.— The  coins  are  worih  f:u-e  value 

only. 

Tun  Air-. 


Highest  of  all  in  Leavening  Strength. —  Latest  U.  S.  Gov't  Report 


Baking 
Powder 


ABSOLUTELY  PURE 


HARI'RR'S    M:W    CAP  VI  Hi  J  I 
Thoroughly  revised,  classified,. iml  indexc 
by  mailt,oany  address  on  receipt  of  ten  cents. 


HAEPEE'S   EOUND   TABLE 


Bjcyc/e  foufc. 
Fair  bicycle 
Rai/way  sfafion. 

Hilt  or  poor  road 
Hotel. 


BICYCLING 


This  Department  is  conducted  in  the  interest  of  Bicyclers,  and  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to 
answer  any  question  on  the  subject.  Our  maps  and  tours  contain  much  valuable  data  kindly 
supplied  from  the  official  maps  and  ruad-books  of  the  League  of  American  Wheelmen.  Recog- 
nizing thy  value  of  the  work  beinp  done  by  the  L.  A.  W.,  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to  furoiflh 
subscribers  with  membership  blanks  and  informatioa  so  far  aa  possible. 

/"CONTINUING  the  two-days  trip  out  of  Philadelphia  into 
\^J  New  Jersey  to  Vineland,  we  start  from  Salem,  where 
we  stopped  last  week,  and  where  the  bicyclist  stops  for  the 
Tiight.  From  Salem  the  best  route  is  the  shortest.  Moving 
southward  out  of  the  village  from  the  Nelson  House,  you 
keep  generally  to  the  left,  and  run  out  over  a  straight  road, 
over  a  gravel  road  in  very  good  condition,  to  Qiiinton. 
Thence  crossing  the  track,  keep  always  on  the  main  road, 
turning  neither  to  the  left  nor  right,  though  the  direction 
is  generally  to  the  right  immediately  after  crossing  the 
track.  From  Qninton  it  is  smooth  sailing  along  a  straight 
road  past  Bordens  Hill  into  Shiloh.  As  shown  on  the  map, 
you  come  into  a  road  running  into  Shiloh  from  the  north 
just  by  the  town,  and  should  turn  right  into  this,  being 
careful  to  keep  to  the  left  again  at  the  meeting  of  several 
roads  in  the  village.  From  this  point  the  road  is  again 
direct  to  Bridgeton.  The  distance  from  Salem  to  Bridge- 
ton  is  seventeen  miles,  and  the  road  is  all  the  way  as  good 
as  a  gravel  road  can  well  be.  It  is  kept  in  good  condition 
also,  and  if  you  do  not  have  a  strong  wind  against  you, 
you  are  pretty  sure  to  have  a  capital  run. 

IF  DESIRED,  A  STOP  can  be  made  at  the  Cumberland 
House  in  Bridgetou  for  lunch  and  a  short  rest,  though  the 
whole  run  to  Vineland  is  riot  a  long  one  to  take  at  one 
stretch.  On  leaving  Bridgeton,  take  the  turnpike  direct  to 
Millville,  a  distance  of  eleven  miles.  It  is  a  good  road-bed, 
but  not  a  particularly  interesting  road  so  far  as  scenery 
goes.  Still,  it  is  the  shortest  and  best  road  to  Millville, 
though  hardly  the  shortest  way  to  go  to  Vineland.  The 
admirable  condition  of  the  road  is  enough  to  persuade  many 
to  go  that  way.  From  Millville  to  Viueland  is  a  distance 
of  six  miles,  also  along  a  capital  road,  side  paths  being,  of 
course,  taken  where  possible. 

THE  SHORTER  ROUTE  runs  out  of  Bridgeton  on  the  road 
to  Finlr.v.  but  the  rider  should  turn  oft'  to  the  right  shortly 
after  crossing  the  railway  about  three  miles  out  from 
Bridgeton,  and  keeping  on  into  Pleasant  Grove.  Thence 
he  continues  to  Eosenhayn  and  Bradway.  Keeping  to  the 
left  of  Bradway,  the  best  road-bed  is  found  by  keeping  on 
towards  the  northeast,  as  shown  on  the  map,  until  a  fork — 
a  meeting  of  roads — is  reached  just  out  of  Mill  Road.  Here 
a  very  sharp  turn  is  made  to  the  right,  and  in  less  than  a 
mile  yon  come  to  the  main  road  into  Mill  Road,  whence  the 
direction  is  straight  into  Viueland.  The  Baker  House  is  a 
good  stopping-place  at  Vinelaud, and  the  second  night  can 
be  comfortably  spent  there.  On  the  following  day  a  run 
can  be  made  into  Philadelphia  direct,  or  the  wbeelmnn  can 
take  a  train  back  if  ho  docs  not  want  to  risk  the  chance  of 
poorer  roads.  This  whole  run,  as  has  been  said,  can  be  made 
in  one  day,  since  it  is  only  sixty-two  miles  by  the,  shortest 
and  sixty -six  miles  by  the  Millville  routes  from  Phila- 
delphia. It  is  a  pretty  run  through  picturesque  country, 
and  makes  one  of  the  best  trips  out  of  Philadelphia.  There 
an-  many  other  attractive  trips  out  of  Philadelphia,  but  it 
will  lie  necessary  for  us  now  to  move  on  towards  Boston,  and 
give  some  runs  in  and  around  that  city.  We  shall  begin 
next  week,  therefore,  by  starting  from  Stamford,  Connecti- 
cut, anil  moving  on  towards  Boston  in  easy  stages. 

NOTK  —Map  of  New  York  city  asphalted  streets  in  No.  809.  Map  of 
route  from  New  York  to  Tarrytown  in  No.  810.  New  York  to  Stamford, 
Connecticut,  in  No.  811.  New  York  to  Staten  Island  in  No.  812.  New 
Jersey  from  Hoboken  to  Pine  Brook  in  No.  S13.  Brooklyn  in  No.  814. 
Brooklyn  to  Babylon  in  No.  815.  Brooklyn  to  Northport  in  No.  816. 
Tarrvtown  to  Ponglikeepsie  in  No.  817.  Poughkeepsie  to  Hudson  in 
No  818  Hudson  to  Albany  in  No.  819.  Tottenville  to  Trenton  in  S2p. 
Trenton  lo  Philadelphia  in  821.  Philadelphia  in  No.  S22.  Philadelphia 
— Wiswihickon  Rojite  in  No.  823.  Philadelphia  to  West  Chester  in  No. 
824  "Philadelphia  to  Atlantic  City— First  Stage  in  No.  828 ;  Second 
Stage  in  No.  826.  Philadelphia  to  Salem  in  No.  827 


Copyright,  1S95,  by  Harper  &  Brothers. 


924 


HAEPEE'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Any  questions  in  reRurd  t 
answered  by  the  Editor  of  this 
from  any  of  our  club  who  can 


photograph  matters  will  be  willingly 
column,  and  we  should  be  glad  to  hear 
make  helpful  suggestions. 


SOME  SUMMER  USES  FOR  BLUE  PAPER. 

BLUE  paper  is  so  easily  made,  and  the 
materials  are  so  cheap,  that  one  can  use 
a  great  deal  of  it  and  still  not  go  to  much 
expense. 

Nothing  is  better  for  a  photographic  out- 
ing than  the  blue  paper.  The  materials 
•can  be  carried  dry  and  made  up  as  needed, 
all  that  is  necessary  being  to  mix  them  with 
clear  water.  Any  good  unglazed  paper  can 
be  used  for  the  solution,  though,  of  course, 
the  photographic  papers  are  the  best. 

Blue  prints  do  not  curl  or  exhibit  any  of 
the  disagreeable  traits  of  other  sensitive 
papers,  and  therefore  are  specially  fine  to 
.illustrate  letters  or  journals,  and  being  so 
cheap  can  be  used  profusely. 

Letter-paper  may  be  sensitized,  and  a  pic- 
ture printed  at  the  top,  making  a  very  at- 
tractive and  original  letter-head.  Use  im- 
glazed  writing-paper,  ami  sensitize  a  strip 
at  the  top  a  little  larger  than  the  picture  to 
be  printed  on  it.  As  all  the  sensitizing  so- 
lution not  exposed  to  the  light  washes  off 
when  placed  in  water,  cover  all  parts  of  t  hr 
paper  to  which  it  has  been  applied  while 
printing.  After  printing  put  the  whole 
sheet  in  the  water  and  wash  till  clear. 
After  it  is  washed,  blot  off  the  superfluous 
•moisture,  and  place  the  prints  between  cli-an 
sheets  of  white  paper,  and  put  them  under 
a  press  till  dry.  A  letter-press  is  the  best. 
though  it  must  not  be  screwed  down  too 
tight.  Several  heavy  books,  a  box  half  full 
of  stones,  or  a  smooth  board  with  several 
stones  laid  on  top  make  good  presses. 

Impressions  of  wood  treasures  may  be 
taken  on  bine-print  paper.  The  printiug- 
fraine  must  have  a  clear  glass  which  just  tits 
it.  On  this  clear  glass  lay  whatever  flower, 
leaf,  spray  of  which  yon  desire  to  make  the 
outline.  Put  a  sheet  of  blue  paper  over  it, 
aud  expose  to  the  sun  till  the  paper  is  slight- 
ly bronzed.  Wash  in  several  changes  of 
water  and  dry. 

When  dry  take  a  fine  brush  and  a  cake 
of  French  bine  water-color  and  trace  the 
veins  of  the  leaf  or  flower  in  the  outline. 
Moths  and  butterflies  can  be  photographed 
in  this  way.  Lace  patterns  can  be  printed 
on  bine  paper.  Designs  for  fancy  or  needle 
work  can  be  made  with  leaves  aud  flowers 
oil  blue  paper,  and  are  much  prettier  than 
those  bought  in  shops,  besides  being  true  to 
Nature.  If  one  has  not  the  gift  or  ace  ..... 
plishmeut  of  drawing,  this  is  an  excellent 
way  to  make  patterns,  and  they  are  sure  to 
be  correct. 

Two  formulas  have  been  given  in  these 
columns  for  bine  prints.    We  add  one  more  : 

No.  1. 
Citrate  of  iron  aud  ammouiii  ........  178  oz. 

Water  ..............................  8        " 

No.  2. 
Red  prassiate  of  potash  ...  .  .  1  7-S  oz. 

Water  ...............................  S 

The  iron  mixture  may  be  made  up.  and 
will  keep  for  a  long  time.  The  potash  mix- 
ture will  not  keep  over  live  or  six  days. 


Place  the  paper  on  a  flat  board  and  dampen 
it  with  a  sponge.  Turn  equal  parts  of  each 
mixture  into  a  saucer,  mix  thoroughly,  and 
apply  to  the  paper  with  a  flat  brush.  A 
letter -copying  brush  is  the  best  kind  of 
brush,  as  it  is  broad  aud  soft.  Put  on  just 
enough  to  cover  the  paper  evenly  without 
streaking  it.  As  soon  as  the  solution  has 
set,  hang  the  paper  up  to  dry.  It  should 
dry  quickly,  for  if  it  is  a  long  time  in  drying 
it  will  be  streaked. 

SIR  KNIOHT  MAOM.  TOWNEE  writes  that  a  short  time 
ago  he  made  some  blue -print  paper  from  directions 
given  in  the  Camera  Club,  and  \vhen  finished  ttie  paper 
was  yellow,  with  blue  spots  in  it,  and  usks  what  is  the 
reason.  The  trouble  is  in  preparing  the  solution. 
Mix  the  two  solutions  thoroughly  before  using,  arid 
apply  lightly  and  evenly.  Sir  Kenneth  says  he  pre- 
pared the  paper  by  lamp-light,  though  the  directions 
did  no  tell  whether  to  do  so  or  not.  Referring  to  the 
copy — No.  797 — which  contains  the  directions  for  blue 
prints,  we  find  it  reads,  "  The  paper  must  be  sensitized 
by  gas  or  lamp  light,  and  dried  in  adark  room."  "To 
sensitize,"  means  to  apply  the  solution  to  the  paper. 
If  Sir  Kenneth  has  any  more  trouble  in  preparing  his 
paper,  he  is  requested  to  send  a  sample  to  the  Camera 
Club.  The  phiin  salted  paper  which  Sir  Kenneth  asks 
where  to  buy  can  be  obtained  of  any  dealer  in  photo- 
graphic goods,  or  if  he  does  not  have  it  in  stock,  he 
will  order  it.  It  should  he  freshly  salted. 

»  *  * 
Natural  History  Morsel. 

Have  you  ever  noticed  the  caterpillar  as  it  spins 
its  tiny  web  from  the  branches  of  trees,  descending 
as  the  web  is  completed  to  the  ground  and  return- 
ing by  its  newly  made  ladder?  If  you  have  never 
noticed  it,  you  would  be  well  paid  to  watch  cater- 
pillars in  their  work.  I  have  spent  a  great  deal  of 
time  watching  them,  and  find  them  an  interesting 
study.  I  would  like  to  have  a  few  foreign  corre- 
spondents, and  have  stamps  to  trade. 

Cms«n,  N.  J.  CHARLES  E.  ABBEY,  K.T.K. 


FEED  THEM  PROPERLY 

and  carefully  :  reduce  the  painfully  large  percentage 
of  infant  mortality.  Take  no  chauces  and  make  no 
experiments  in  this  very  important  matter.  The  Gai! 
Borden  Eagle  Brand  Condensed  Milk  has  saved  thou- 
sands of  little  lives.—  [A  dv.] 


ADV  BiRXISKMENXS. 


There  are  two 
classes  of  bicycles— 

COLUMBIAS 

and  others 


Columbias  sell  for  $100  to  everyone 
alike,  and  are  the  finest  bicycles  the 
•world  produces.  Other  bicycles  sell 
for  less,  but  they  are  not  Columbias. 

POPE   MFG.  CO.,   HARTFORD,  CONN. 

You  See  Them 
Everywhere 


Walter  Bauer  &  Go.  Limited, 

The  LtrgMt  Manufacturer!  of 

PURE,  HIGH  GRADE 

COCOAS  ^  CHOCOLATES 

On  thii  Continent,  have  received 

HIGHEST  AWARDS 

from  the  great 

Industrial  and  Food 

EXPOSITIONS 
IN  EUROPE  AND  AMERICA. 



f  ai>4inn  •      In    view    of  the 

caution .   miny  iTniution. 

of  the  label  •  and  wripp*n  on  our 
(roods,  consumers  thould  make  rure 
.that  our  place  of  manufacture, 
'namely,  Dorchester,  Jil  u«*. 

it  printed  on  each  package. 


SOLD  BY  GROCERS  EVERYWHERE. 


WALTER  BAKER  A  CO.  LTD.    DORCHESTER,    MASS. 


Constable  <^v3  Co 

Novelties  in  Lace 

Gau{e  Sr  Chiffon  Neckwear, 
Marie  Antoinette  Fichus, 

Mousseline    de    Sole,     Batiste. 
and  Lace  Collars. 


OSTRICH  BOAS 


NEW    YORK. 


}pootagc  Stamps,  Src. 


CT  A  MDO   I  1:<>O  fi)ic  »''«d  Victoria.  Cape  of  G. 
„.   OlAIYIrO   !   H.,liiiira,Japaii.etc..witlifineStainp 
A  Album,    only     JOc.        New   80- p.    1'rice  •  list     !>»•«-. 
Si  Jftur*  Tinted  at  f.O*  commission.     STANDARD 
TAMP  CO..  4  Nil  hots  11   H.ite.  Si.  Louis.  Mo.     Old 
S  ;uul  Confederate  Stamps  bought. 


100  all  dif.  Venezuela,  C'ostn  I. 
_  I0c.;ffliiiiill  dif.Haytl,Hawaii,etc.,onlyBOc. 
Wllilc!    Ag'tswautedatBOperctcom.    List! 

C.A.Stegraann,2V2S  K;i.l>  Av.,st.Linii!..M ••. 


Harper's  Catalogue, 

Thoroughly  revised,  classified,  and  in- 
dexed, will  be  sent  by  mail  to  any  ad- 
dress on  receipt  of  ten  cents. 


HAEPEE'S    EOUND    TABLE 


Caring  for  Some  of  Our  Pets. 

Thfft  question  "Do  rabbits  drink  water?"  has 
brought  out  much  interesting  discussion.  It  seems 
that  the  idea  they  never  drink  is  one  of  those  er- 
roneous notions  that  get  into  the  popular  mind 
and  never  get  out.  We  have  to  thank  Agnes  Palm 
for  her  letter  on  the  subject,  and  a  San  Francisco 
member  writes: 

"  Having  been  informed  that  rabbits  required  no 
water.  I  failed  to  supply  it  to  some  pets  that  were 
presented  by  a  friend.  They  lived,  but  did  not 
thrive,  and  when  the  young  ones  came  the  mo- 
ther rabbit  became  frantic,  and  killed  two  of  the 
baby  rabbits,  and  acted  like  something  insane  with 
distress  and  longing.  I  recalled  seeing  the  men 
run  in  great  haste  to  give  meat  and  drink  to  the 
mother  of  little  pigs,  saying  she  had  gone  insane, 
and  was  going  to  eat  the  little  ones.  Instead  of 
beating  her,  they  fed  and  comforted  her  until  she 
became  quiet  and  contented. 

"  I  shall  never  forget  with  what  great  relief  the 
rabbits  drank  the  water  and  milk  that  I  gave  them. 
Thereafter  I  always  kept  them  supplied  with  water, 
and  the  rabbits  never  again  killed  the  baby  rab- 
bits. AH  animals  require  food,  drink,  and  shelter, 
and  almost  every  pet  will  appreciate  a  comfortable 
bed,  and  are  not  so  different  from  ourselves  in 
needs  as  we  sometimes  think.  Even  the  wildest  or 
most  stupid  can  appreciate  love.  Would  you  have 
your  pets  happy  and  contented?  Love  them,  and 
you  will  put  a  humanizing  element  into  your  care 
that  will  react  upon  yourself.  NELLIE  ELLIS." 


A  Brand-new  Game. 

Here  are  the  directions  for  playing  balle-et-po- 
teau,  a  modification  of  croquet : 

Drive  a  croquet  stake  into  the  ground  in  some 
level  spot,  and  draw  a  circle  around  it  having  a 
radius  of  two  mallet  lengths.  Arrange  six  balls 
around  the  stake,  placing  the  remaining  two,  called 
"marteaux,"  five  mallet  lengths  from  the  ring. 
Let  the  player  who  has  first  "  heurt "  drive  his  ball 
toward  those  in  the  ring  and  endeavor  to  displace 
them.  If  he  touches  one  or  more  of  the  balls  he  is 
entitled  to  another  turn,  and  now  tries  to  drive 
one  of  the  balls  outside  the  ring,  naming  his  choice 
by  color.  If  he  succeeds  in  knocking  out  a  ball, 
he  again  tries,  continuing  to  play  until  he  fails  to 
touch  a  ball.  The  second  player  then  drives  his 
ball  toward  the  ring,  having  the  further  advantage 
of  hitting  his  opponent's  marteau.  Doing  this,  he 
may,  (1)  if  the  other's  marteau  is  within  the  circle, 
knock  the  same  outside,  thereby  gaining  all  his  op- 
ponent's balls ;  (this  play  is  called  a  "  gagnant "). 
or  (2)  he  may  make  the  usual  croquet  shots  with 
the  ball. 

The  game  is  played  until  all  the  halls  have  been 
knocked  out,  the  player  winning  the  game  who 
has  the  greatest  number  of  balls  in  his  possession. 
The  chief  feature  of  the  game,  is-  the  ga^nant  play. 
To  avoid  being  played  upon  in  this  manner,  it  is  a 
wise  plan  to  place  the  stake  between  the  two  mar- 
teaux. VINCENT  V.  II.  BEEDE. 


A  Visit  to  Baden-Baden. 

The  most  beautiful  summer  resort  I  ^iav^  seen 
while  travelling  in  Europe  is  Baden-Baden-,  situ- 
ated in  the  Black  Forest.  Many  people  go  there, 
one-fourth  of  whom  are  Americans.  The  air  of 
the  pine  forest  is  very  healthy.  It  is  said  that  the 
climate  in  winter  is  very  cold,  so  there  are  not 
many  foreigners;  but  in  the  summer  it  is  lovely. 
When  you  go  walking  in  the  woods  you  do  not 
notice  you  are  climbing,  as  the  roads  are  so  well 
kept. 

M»st  of  the  hotels  are  situated  on  the  large 
"  Lichtenthaler  Allee,"  which  goes  from  the  rail- 
way station  along  the  little  river  Oos  to  a  village 
called  Lichtenthal.  Every  hotel  has  a  small  gar- 
den in  front,  which  is  connected  with  the  allee  by 
a  small  bridge  crossing  the  river,  so  that  the  whole 
place  looks  like  one  large  garden.  There  are  quite 
a  good  many  pretty  villas  on  the  hills  and  in  the 
town. 

The  forest  deserves  its  name  Black  Forest,  be- 
cause the  pine-trees  stand  so  close  together  that 
from  a  distance  it  looks  as  black  as  coal.  The 
prettiest  walk  near  Badeu  is  near  a  lake  In  the 


woods.  On  the  way  there  one  passes  the  Russian 
church  with  its  gilded  domes.  It  is  so  pretty  to 
see  the  gold  against  the  dark  forest.  You  can  see 
the  church  from  nearly  all  the  surroundings  of 
Baden,  and  it  often  serves  as  a  guide. 

About  twenty  minutes'  walk  from  the  church  is 
the  lake  in  the  woods.  When  you  reach  it  and  are 
tired  of  walking,  there  are  plenty  of  benches  to  sit 
down  on  and  feed  the  swans.  To  go  home  you 
have  your  choice  between  half  a  dozen  roads,  no 
one  prettier  than  the  other.  I  found  some  little 
American  friends  in  Baden  to  play  with,  but  no 
members  of  the  Round  Table.  I  hope  that  some 
members  will  go  there  and  enjoy  themselves  as 
much  as  I  did.  MAX  LILIENTHAL,  R.T.K. 

WlLDUNGKN. 


Prizes  for  Pen-drawings. 

HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE  wishes  to  have  illus- 
trated one  of  the  stories  to  which  it  awards  a 
prize  in  its  Story  Contest  ending  January  1, 1896. 
Do  you  want  to  try  your  hand  ?  $10  is  offered  for 
the  best  illustration,  and  we  will  print  it  with  the 
story  as  soon  as  it  can  be  suitably  reproduced. 
What  is  wanted  is  a  pen-drawing  that  will  be, 
when  printed,  about  3%  by  5  inches  in  size.  It 
should  be  drawn,  therefore,  5  by  10  inches.  Use 
Bristol-board  and  India-ink.  If  you  wish  to  sub- 
mit a  drawing,  send  to  HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE, 
New  York,  previous  to  January  1,  1896,  a  written 
request  for, the  story  in  proof.  When  you  receive 
the  proof  you  select  your  own  subject,  make  the 
drawing  in  your  own  way,  and  return  it  with  the 
proof.  If  after  you  receive  the  proof  you  do  not 
wish  to  submit  a  drawing  in  the  competition,  you 
simply  tear  up  the  proof.  Competition  is  open  to 
those  only  who  have  not  passed  their  eighteenth 
birthday. 


A  Very  Kind  Offer. 

Mr.  Kirk  Munroe,  whose  visit  to  Good  Will  Farm 
has  much  aroused  his  interest  in  the  Round  Table 
School  there,  offers  to  give  a  reading  from  his  own 
works  in  New  York  city  toward  the  end  of  Novem- 
ber, the  exact  date  to  be  fixed  later,  the  proceeds 
to  go  toward  the  Fund. 

Why  can't  we  make  this  a  memorable  occasion? 
Let  us  hear  from  New  York,  Brooklyn,  Newark, 
and  all  other  near-by  members.  Where  shall  we 
have  this  reception  and  reading?  Will  you  help  to 
make  it  a  success?  We  want  the  assistance  of  all 
who  live  near  enough  to  attend.  Tell  us  if  you 
will  help. 


New  Idea  in  Puzzles. 

Are  you  familiar  with  the  puzzles  that  have  been 
published  in  HARPEU'S  ROUND  TABLE?  They  have 
been  exceptionally  good,  and  of  many  styles.  A 
new  style  of  puzzle  is  wanted.  That  is,  an  idea  in 
puzzles  that  has  not  hitherto  been  used.  We  do 
not  mean  new  material  in  an  old  form,  but  a  new 
catch  or  form.  If  you  cannot  make  the  entire  puz- 
zle., write  cfut  the  suggestion.  $5  is  offered  for  the 
idea— the  best  one  we  receive,  provided  that  it  is 
new.  Competition  open  to  anybody,  any  age. 
Send  suggestions,  either  by  description  or  iu  a  puz- 
zle, not  later  than  December  1, 1895. 


Special  to  all  Readers. 

It  is  desired  to  correct  the  records  of  the  Order, 
especially  the  addresses.    We  ask,  therefore, 

1.  That  Founders  will  send  us  their  names  and 
addresses  on  a  postal  card,  spelling  out  a  first 
name,  printing  all  In  English  capitals,  and  adding 
the  word  "Founder."    Use  simply  the  sign  "A." 

2.  That  all  members  will  do  the  same,  except  that 
'they  will  not  use  the  word  Founder.    Remember 

-that- you  remain  a  Knight  or  Lady  of  the  Order 
even  if,  since  becoming  such,  you  have  passed  your 
eighteenth  birthday. 

3.  That  persons  over  eighteen,  not  now  members, 
who  wish  our  Order  well,  will  send  us  names  and 
addresses,  and  receive  a  Patron  Patent.    Use  sim- 
ply the  letter  "D." 

4.  That  members  send  us  names  and  addresses 

926 


of  friends  whom  they  wish  Patents  for ;  say  wheth- 
er such  friends  are  over  or  under  eighteen. 

If  you  wish  to  distribute  Round  Table  Prospec- 
tuses, make  the  request  on  a  separate  postal  card 
from  the  one  on  which  you  ask  for  a  new  Patent. 
Only  one  person  may  accept  this  offer  in  one  town 
or  neighborhood.  In  applying  say  how  many  Pro- 
spectuses you  can  place,  whom  you  intend  to  give 
them  to,  what  are  your  facilities  for  giving  them 
out,  and  what  prize  you  seek.  The  prizes  are : 
Bound  volumes  of  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  for 
1893  or  1894 ;  gold  badges  of  the  Order ;  packet  of 
fifty  visiting-cards  bearing  your  name,  with  the 
plate  for  future  use ;  rubber  stamps  bearing  your 
name  and  address;  pencils  resembling  a  common 
nail ;  and  silver  badges  of  the  Order. 

These  Prospectuses  must  not  be  thrown  into 
front  yards,  nor  given  out  three  or  four  to  a  family. 
They  must  be  given  each  to  a  different  family,  and 
those  families  known  by  you  to  be  such  as  are 
likely  to  be  interested  in  them.  There  may  be  de- 
lay at  times.  If  you  do  not  receive  a  prompt 
response  to  your  request,  do  not  write  a  second 
time.  A  response  will  reach  you  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble. 


All  About  Naval  Apprentices. 

Please  tell  me  all  about  naval  apprentices  and 
how  to  become  one.  GEORGE  SYKES. 

PLUM  VALLKY,  NEB. 

Boys  between  the  ages  of  fifteen  and  eighteen 
years  may  enlist  to  serve  in  the  navy  until  they 
shall  arrive  at  the  age  of  twenty-one  years.  The 
consent  of  parents  or  guardians,  however,  must 
first  be  obtained.  These  boys,  after  being  sworn 
in,  are  sent  on  board  of  naval  vessels  and  are  care- 
fully trained  for  the  service  of  the  navy.  Before  a 
boy  is  accepted  he  is  obliged  to  pass  the  examin- 
ing board  of  officers,  satisfying  them  that  he  is  of 
robust  frame,  intelligent,  of  good  moral  character 
— for  the  navy  is  in  no  sense  a  reformatory — that 

he  has  a  perfectly  sound  and  healthy  constituti 

and  that  he  is  able  to  read  and  write.  The  ele- 
ments of  an  ordinary  English  education  are  given 
the  apprentices,  and  their  professional  studies  em- 
brace the  knotting,  splicing,  hitching,  and  bending 
of  rope;  fancy  marlinespike  seamanship;  sewing 
canvas ;  bending,  reefing,  and  furling  sail ;  the 
names  and  use  of  the  various  gear  in  the  way  of 
standing  and  running  rigging  ;  and  the  manner  in 
which  it  should  be  set  up  and  rove  ;  terms  for  the 
different  parts  of  the  ship;  military  tactics;  broad- 
side exercise;  rifle  drill;  the  loading  and  firing  of 
the  great  guns,  as  well  as  the  handling  of  smaller 
pieces  of  ordnance,  such  as  Hotchkiss  and  Gatling 
guns,  etc.  Auxiliary  to  these  studies  the  boys  are 
taught  rowing  and  swimming. 

Apprentices  are  enlisted  as  "third-class  boys," 
and  receive  $9  50  per  month.  Their  food  is  also 
given  to  them;  but  their  outfits  of  clothes,  fur- 
nished to  them  by  the  paymaster  of  the  vessel 
when  they  join, are  charged  against  their  accounts, 
and  they  receive  no  money  until  the  indebtedness 
has  been  wiped  out.  While  serving  on  board  of 
naval  training  vessels,  apprentices  may  be  pro- 
moted to  "second-class  boys."  and  have  their  pay 
increased  to  $11  50  per  month,  and  when  doing 
duty  on  cruisers  of  the  navy  they  are  eligible  to 
higher  ratings  and  pay  as  a  reward  of  proficiency 
and  good  conduct. 

The  highest  rank  that  an  apprentice  my  hope  to 
gain  is  that  of  warrant-officer,  so  that  he  cannot 
look  forward  to  a  grade  beyond  that  of  gunner  or 
boatswain  — the  pay  of  which,  however,  reaches 
81800  a  year  after  a  certain  period  of  service. 
Warrant-officers  are,  like  all  other  officers  of  the 
navy,  retired  after  reaching  the  age  of  sixty-two 
years,  and  a  generous  percentage  of  their  active- 
service  salary  is  paid  to  them  as  long  as  they  live. 

Recruiting  stations  for  apprentices  are  to  be 
found  in  New  York,  Philadelphia,  and  San  Fran- 
cisco, where  boys  may  apply  at  any  time.  A'Mivss 
"Recruiting  Station  for  Naval  Apprentices,  Navy- 
Yard."  The  naval  school,  known  as  the  Naval 
Academy,  is  situated  at  Annapolis,  Md..  and  is  en- 
tirely distinct  from  the  apprentice  branch  of  the 
service.  At  the  latter  institution  young  men  are 
prepared  to. become  officers  in  the  line  and  in  the 
engineer  corps  of  the  navy.  During  the  war  of 
the  rebellion  the  Naval  Academy  was  temporarily 
transferred  to  Newport  in  Rhode  Island. 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


S>    IktltfiS. 


No.  102.—  RIGHT  TRIANGLE. 
All  words  begin  and  end  with  same  letter. 

1.  „—  A  letter. 

2  *  *  —  A  preposition. 

3.  *  *  *—  To  possess. 

4.  ,  *  *  s—  A  sign. 

B.  ,  *  *  *  *—  A  vegetable. 

6.  *  •  *  *  *  «—  To  continue  in  use. 

7.  ******  *—  Notion. 

8.  *»,****  *—  Act  of  blunting. 

9.  ********  *  —  Adverse  reason. 
in    v  v  *******  *  —  Business. 

11.  **********  *—  Display. 

12.  ***********  *—  Extinction. 

ALBERT. 

No.  103.—  ZIGZAG. 

If  the  cross-words—  of  equal  length—  are  correct- 
ly i;ii"ssed.  the  zigzag,  beginning  at  the  upper  left- 
hand  runier.  will  spell  the  name  of  the  eldest 
dau^htff  of  the  Emperor  Arcadius  (born  A.D.  399). 

CROSS-WORDS.  —  1.  A  fruit.  2.  To  chew.  3.  Burn- 
ing. 4.  To  instruct.  5.  A  covered  entrance.  6. 
Slumber.  1.  To  compel.  8.  An  episcopal  crown. 
9.  Starwurr 

No.  104.—  HOUR-OLASS. 

1.  To  equalize.    2.  Shy.    3.  Fixed.    4.  A  letter. 
5.  A  metal,    6.  Ahorse.    7.  Brought  Into  life. 
The  ceutrals  give  the  name  of  a  continent. 

SIMON  T.  STERN. 


No.  105.— THE  SUPPER  TABLE. 

1.  A  convulsion  of  the  lungs,  and  a  reward. 

2.  A  kind  of  deer,  and  a  grain,  served  in  a  flat 

form. 

3.  A  kind  of  cutting  and  girls. 

4.  Natural  jewel-boxes. 

5.  An  unruly  menilu-r. 

6.  A  portion  and  a  height. 

7.  Fireworks. 

8.  A  billy-goat. 

9.  Earth  and  a  useful  toilet  article. 

10.  Two-thirds  of  a  small  destructive  animal,  and 

part  of  the  table  service. 

11.  A  sailor's  desire. 
13.  Counterfeit  agony. 

13.  An  island  in  the  Atlantic. 

14.  Ghnvts. 

15.  A  vessel,  an  article,  and  part  of  the  foot. 

16.  A  country  in  Europe. 

17.  One  of  Noah's  sous. 

18.  A  crowd. 

19.  Health-drinking. 

20.  Something  occurring  in  baseball. 

21.  What  every  one  walks  on. 

22.  A  pronoun  and  an  ornament. 

23.  Something  to  which  many  martyrs  were  fast- 

ened. 

24.  A  flirt  and  the  eighteenth  letter.    . 

25.  The  bird  which  is  afraid. 

26.  Fruit  of  a  tree  useful  to  our  remote  ancestors. 

I.  M.  C. 


Answers  to  Kinks. 

No.  98.— FIRST  CHRONICLES,  xxxvi.,  18. 

At  Parbar  westward,  four  at  the  causeway,  and 
two  at  Parbar. 

Warrant,  stray,  award,  purchase,  abaca,  doubt, 
father,  wonted,  pathway. 


No.  99— A  kiss. 
A  key. 


No.  100.— A  broom.    No.  101.— 


Questions  ant>  answers. 

Joseph  H.  Durant :  The  new  badges  will  be  ready 
about  the  middle  of  September,  and  an  ru-Tirl*1 
about  the  rearing,  care,  and  training  of  pi^uus 
will  sunn  be  printed  in  the  RODND  TABLE.  It  will 
be  by  Mr.  Chase.  Helen  Hunt  •  Prizes  for  next 
year  will  include  amateur  photography,  pen-draw- 
ing, story-writing,  music-settings,  nonsense  verses, 
poems,  and  puzzles  Announcement  of  conditions 
will  be  made  as  soon  as  possible. 


IVORY  5  GAP 


High  priced  toilet  soaps  cost  more  than  the  Ivory,  not  because  the 
soap  itself  is  any  better,  but  by  reason  of  the  expensive  wrappings, 
boxes  and  perfume.  Then  the  profit  on  toilet  soaps  is  much  greater. 


THE  PROCTER  ft  GAMBLE  Co.,  OiN'TI. 


OFFICIAL  ANNOUNCEMENT  °*theawa«i 

CILLOTT'S  PEN  S -it  the  CHICAGO  EXPOSITION. 
A  l\  A  1C  II;  "  For  excellence  of  steel  used  in  their 
manufacture,  it  bein^  tine  irraim-d  and  elastic  ;  super- 
ior workmanship,  especially  shown  by  the  careful 
grinding-  which  leaves  tlir  pens  free  from  defects  The 
tempering  ia  excellent  and  the  action  of  the  finished 
pens  perfect."  (Sijrned)  FRANZ  VOGT 

I  H.  I.  KIMBALL,  Individual  Judge 

Approved:-f        Preset  Departmental  Committee, 
UOHN  BOYD  THAOHER, 

Chairman  Exec.  Com.  on  Awards. 


WONDER  CABINET  FREE.  MiMlng  Link 
Puttie,  Devil'a  Bottle,  Pocket  Camera,  L»t«f  I 
Wire  Puczle,  Spook  Photos,  Book  of  SloiRhtof 
Hand,  Total  Value  OOc.  Sentfree  with  irncicnp* 
catalogue  of  1000  Ii&rgsiDBfor  lOc.  forpoHtai-e. 
INGERSOLL&  BRO.,  05  Cortlnndt  Street  H.  T. 


i  PERIODICUS. 


Per  Year: 

HARPER'S  MAGAZINE  ..........  Postage  Free,  $4  00 

HARPER'S  WEEKLY  ............  4  00 

HARPER'S  BAZAR  ..............  "  4  on 

HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE...,  200 


Booksellers  and  Postmasters  UMUill-rj  receive  subscrip- 
tions.   Subscriptions  sent,  direct  to  the  publisher/ 
be  accompanied  by  Post-nffice  Money  Order  or  Draft. 


HARPER  &  BROTHERS.  New  York,  N.  Y. 


Entertaining  Books 

BY  THOMAS  W.  KNOX 


The  manner  in  which  all  these  things  are  told  is  so  bright  and  pleas- 
ing that  the  boy  reader  may  fancy  that  he  is  only  following  with  delight- 
ed attention  the  adventures  of  two  boys  like  himself,  when  he  is  actually 
becoming  possessed  of  information  which  he  will  not  easily  forget.— 
Boston  Journal. 

THE   "BOY    TRAVELLERS"    SERIES 

Copiously  Illustrated.      Square  8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $3  oo  per  volume. 
Adventures  of  Two  Youths— 

IN  THE  LEVANT. 

SOUTHERN  EUROPE. 


IN 

IN 
IN 
IN 

IN 
IN 


CENTRAL  EUROPE. 

NORTHERN   EUROPE. 

GREAT    BRITAIN    AND 

IRELAND. 

MEXICO. 

AUSTRALASIA. 


ON  THE  CONGO. 

IN  THE   RUSSIAN   EMPIRE. 

IN  SOUTH   AMERICA. 

IN  CENTRAL    AFRICA. 

IN  EGYPT  AND  PALESTINE. 

IN  CEYLON   AND  INDIA. 

IN  SIAM   AND  JAVA. 

IN  JAPAN    AND   CHINA. 


OTHER    BOOKS    BY    COLONEL    KNOX: 

HUNTING  ADVENTURES  ON  LAND  AND  SEA. 

2  vols.     Copiously  Illustrated.     Square  Svo,  Cloth,  Ornamental.  §2  =,<  <  c. 


THE    YOUNG    NIMRODS    IN    NORTH 
AMERICA. 


THE  YOUNG  NIMRODS  AROUND  THE 
WORLD. 


Published  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  New  York. 


927 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


IN  these  days  of  bicycle  mania  all  sorts  of  bicycle  stories 
are  told,  but  this  anecdote  is  said  to  be  a  true  oue.  A  Chi- 
cago lawyer  named  Harris  had  a  case  in  a  police  court  sit- 
uated in  one  of  the  outlying  districts  of  the  city.  He  rode 
to  the  court  and  left  his  wheel  at  the  door,  with  a  tag  at- 
tached to  the  handle  bar,  on  which  he  wrote:  "  This  bicycle 
is  the  property  of  a  legal  gentleman  who  will  lie  back  iu 
twenty  minutes."  After  losing  his  case  before  the. judge, 
Mr.  Harris  came  out  to  find  that  his  bicycle  \\as  missing.  ^ 
The  tag  hung  from  a  nail  on  the  wall  near  by,  and  beneath  - 
the  lawyer's  inscription  was  another :  "  To  the  legal  gen- 
tleman :  Your  wheel  was  taken  by  another  gentleman  who's 
a  '  scorcher.'  He  won't  be  back  at  all." 


'  Don't  you  think 


"MY  tooth  aches  awful,"  said  Willie. 
I'd  better  not  go  to  school  to-day  ?" 

"No,  you  needn't  go  to  school.  I'll  take  yon  to  the  den- 
tist instead, "said  his  mother. 

"  I  think— I  guess  I — I'd  better  go  to  school  after  all," 
rejoined  Willie.  "The  tooth  aches,  but — it  don't  hurt 
any."  ^ 

DON'T : 

"I'M  tired  of 'dou'ts',"  said  Margaret  B, 
"  Just  as  tired  of '  dou'ts '  as  I  can  be, 
For  it's  '  don't'  do  this,  and  '  don't'  do  that, 
'  Don't '  worry  the  dog, '  don't '  scare  the  cat, 
'Don't' be  untidy,  and 'don't '  be  vain, 
'Don't' interrupt,  •don't' do  it  again, 
'Don't'  bite  your  nails, 'don't'  gobble  your  food, 
'Don't 'speak  so  loud,  it's  dreadfully  rude, 
'Don't' mumble  your  words, '  don't '  say 'I  won't,' 
Oh!  all  day  long -it's  nothing  but 'don't'! 
Some  time  or  other  I  hope — '  don't '  you  ? — 
Some  oue  or  other  will  say, 'Please  DO'!" 


HIS    FIRST    VIEW    OF    AN    ELEPHANT. 

BLDER  BROTHER.  "  LOOK  AT  HIB  TAIL,  JIMMY,  LOOK  AT 
IIIB  TAIL!" 

JIMMY.  "Wuiou  ONR,  BOB;  rue  ONE  BEFORE  on  DK  ONE 
HKHIND?" 


CHANGING  THE   SUBJECT. 

"  FRANCES,"  said  a  mamma,  severely,  to  her  seven-year- 
old  daughter. 
"  Yes'm." 

"  Who  made  all  these  colored  crayon  marks  on  the  par- 
lor wall  paper  ?" 

"Mamma,"  replied  Frances,  "did  you  know  that  Mrs. 
Dicer  called  to  see  you  while  you  were  out  ?" 

"Frances, I  want  to  know  who  put  all  those  marks  on 
the  parlor  wall." 

"Mamma,  I  think  some  of  the  little  girls  on  this  street 
are  very  bad.  Lucy  Bunting  ran  oft"  with  my  doll." 

"  Frances,  I  don't  want  to  discuss  Lucy  Bunting.  I  \\  ant 
to  know  who  made  all  those  dreadful  marks,  and  spoiled 
the  wall  paper." 

"  Mamma,  you  ought  to  have  seen  my  little  kitty  run  up 
the  tree  just  before  you  came  home.  She 
went  almost  to  the  top." 

"I  don't  care  anything  about  the  kitty, 
Frances.  What  I  want  to  know  is  about 
this  paper  in  the  parlor,  which  is  covered 
with  red  and  yellow  marks." 

"  Mamma,  what  do  you  think  would  be  a 
nice  birthday  present  for  papa?" 

"  Now,  Frances,  listen  to  me !  Who  made 
those  marks  on  the  parlor  wall  ?" 

"  Oh,  mamma,"  sobbed  Frances,  "  why  do 
you  keep  talking  about  the  parlor  wall 
paper  when  you  see  me  trying  so  hard  to 
change  the  subject  ?" 


PAPA.  "Who  has  put  all  these  ink  spots 
on  my  desk  ?" 

BOBBY.  "Why,  papa,  those  are  not  ink 
spots;  it's  a  letter  which  I  wrote  to  yon." 

PAPA.  "Jack,  how  did  you  get  that  lump 
on  your  forehead  ?" 

BOBBY.  "Jack  hit  me  with  a  stick." 
PAPA.  "  Did  you  strike  him  back  ?" 
BOBBY.  "No." 

PAPA.  "That  was  quite  right." 
BOBBY.  "Because  I  hit  him  first." 


"WHAT  makes  the  baby  cry  so?" asked 
Willie. 

"  He's  cutting  his  teeth,"  said  the  nurse. 

"Why  do  yon  let  him  do  it?"  asked  Wil- 
lir.  "Yon  won't  even  let  me  cut  my  own 
nails." 


A    NATURAL    INQUIRY. 

BOBBIE.  "\VII\T  iiiiicK  IT  HOST  TO  MAKE  A  LETT  KB  uo  ?" 

POSTMAN.   "Two  HUNTS." 

BOBBIE.  "DON'T  von  TAKE  'KM  FOR  CHILDREN  AT  HALF  PP.ICK?" 

928 


WILLIE  (u-lm  «•«-.  trareUing  alone  fur  I  lie 
first  time,  to  eoiidiietor).  "  What  is  the  mean- 
ing of  '  W  '  and  '  R'  on  the  sign-posts  along 
the  road  ?" 

CONDUCTOR.  "Ring  and  whistle." 
WILLIE  (after  a  pause).  "I  can  see  how 
'W  stands  for  wring,  but  I'm  blessed  if  I 
can  see  how  '  R'  can  stand  for  whistle." 


HARPERS 


ROUND  TABLE 


pyMclH,  1895,  by  HABPKH  4  BEOTHBHS.     All  RiEhts  Re.erveil. 


VOL.  XVI.— NO.  829. 


NEW  YORK.  TUESDAY,  SEPTEMBER  17,   1895 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO   DOLLARS   A    YEAR. 


A    CARGO    OF     BURNING    COAL. 


BY   AN  OLD  SHIPMASTER. 


T 


1HE  reader  may  think  that  while  coal  must  be  a  dirty 
cargo  it  is  iu  other  respects  an  innocent  one;  but 
there  is  no  shipmaster  who  does  not  dread  a  long  voyage 
with  this  kind  of  freight,  for  many  a  fine  vessel  has  been 
lost  owing  to  the  coal  taking  fire  through  spontaneous 
combustion  ;  therefore  the  greatest  care  is  exercised  in  car- 
rving  it.  and  whenever  the  weather  will  permit,  the  hatches 
are  opened  in  order  to  give  the  gases  in  the  hold  an  op- 
portunity to  escape.  The  regular  coal-carriers  :ire  fitted 
\\  ith  ventilators  set  in  different  parts  of  the  deck,  and  tin; 
holds  of  the  vessels  are  kept  pure  aud  wholesome  by  turn- 
ing tin-,  gaping  mouths  of  a  number  of  the  huge  funnels  so 
that  the  wind  will  pour  into  and  down  them  to  the  interior 
of  the  ship,  ami  keep  up  a  circulation  by  escaping  through 
other  ventilators  that  are  turned  iu  a  contrary  direction. 

A  good  many  years  back,  when  I  was  an  able  young  sea- 
man on  board  the  bark  Hnlri</li,  I  had  an  experience  that 
was  both  exciting  aud  strange.  Our  vessel  was  loaded 


with  coal,  and  bound  from  Philadelphia  to  Australia.  The 
run  down  to  the  equator  hail  liccii  a  slow  1ml  pleasant  inn-. 
owing  not  only  to  the  mild,  beautiful  weather  that  \ve  had 
held  right  along  since  sailing,  but  because  the  I,'nli-i;ili  had 
whai  was  something  of  a  novelty  in  iho.se  da\s.  in  the  way 
of  an  excellent  and  kindly  set  of  officers.  \Ve  were  what 
is  called  a  ''  happy  ship." 

After  reaching  about  the  parallel  of  twenty  degrees  south 
we  got  a  stress  of  weather  for  over  a  week,  in  w  hich  .several 
of  our  sai's  were,  blown  away  ami  a  number  nl'  mir  li^ht 
spars  \\  ere  w  recked.  All  our  live  stock  of  pigs  and  chickens 
were  drowned,  owing  to  the  Hooding  ofonr  decks,  for  we 
sal  \  ery  low  in  the  water. 

On  the  day  that  we  ran  into  pleasant  weather  aga 
started  to  lake  nil'  I  he  hatches,  when  a  gassy. choking 
poured  out  of  I  !,e  npening.      The  caruo  w  as  on  lire.      There 
was   only   one    thing   to   do — to  replace  the    ha 
holes  through  them,  and  pump  streams  of  water  into  the 


HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE 


Lold,  endeavoring  to  drown  tlie  fire  before  it  gained  addi- 
tional  headway.  All  bauds  were  called  to  the  task,  and 
far  twenty-four  liours  we  worked  for  our  lives, the  crew 
being  divided  into  relief  gaugs  so  that  the  deck -pumps 
might  be  kept  constantly  going. 

Before  another  morning  came,  however,  we  knew  that 
the  ship  was  doomed,  for  the  decks  grew  hot  under  our 
tret,  and  through  various  crevices  the  weakening,  nauseat- 
ing  fumes  of  coal-gas  poured,  overpowering  us  at  times  as 
wi-  plied  the  pump-handles.  The  wind  died  away, leaving 
the  ship  becalmed,  and  over  and  around  her  bnng  a  sickly 
blue  pall  of  vapor.  Then  the  order  was  given  to  provision 
the  boats  and  desert  the  Kaleigli.  We  pulled  a  little  way 
from  the  vessel  and  rested  ou  our  oars,  watching  the  noble 
ship.  As  long  as  she  floated  there  we  seemed  to  have 
something  to  cling  to  ou  the  wide  desolate  reach  of  wa- 
ters. 

Shortly  afterward  the  mainmast  swayed  like  a  druuken 
man,  then  with  au  awful  crash  it  pitched  over  the  side, 
dragging  with  it  the  foretop-gallaut  mast  and  the  mizzen- 
topmast.  Through  the  broken  deck  a  column  of  winding 
sulphurous  ilame  shot  into  the  air.  The  pitch  ran  wrig- 
gling out  of  the  seams  of  the  Salcii/h's  planking,  and  Ml 
hissing  in  little  showers  into  the  water  alongside  as  the 
vessel  rolled  sluggishly  ou  the  swells.  An  hour  later  the 
bark  was  a  mass  of  flames,  and  we  pulled  away  to  escape 
from  the  heat. 

There  were  two  boats,  the  Captain  commanding  one  and 
the  chief  mate  the  other.  Each  had  beeu  provided  with  a 
chart  and  compass,  and,  in  addition  to  these  instruments, 
the  two  officers  had  carried  away  their  sextants  in  order  to 
navigate  by  the  sun  and  stars.  Into  each  boat  had  been 
stowed  food  and  water,  which  it  was  calculated  would  last 
about  ten  days  by  putting  all  hauds  ou  short  allowance; 
but  it  was  hoped  that  before  the  provisions  were  con- 
sumed we  would  either  be  picked  up  by  a  passing  vessel 
or  successful  in  sailing  to  Rio  Janeiro,  distant  from  us 
something  less  than  six  hundred  miles.  The  Captain's 
boat  being  the  larger  of  the  two  carried  the  second  mate, 
steward,  cook,  and  eight  seamen,  while  the  mate's  boat  held 
the  carpenter  and  four  seameu — myself  included  among 
the  latter. 

The  boats  laid  alongside  of  one  another  while  the  Cap- 
tain and  mate  decided  upon  the  course  to  be  steered  ;  then 
•we  separated,  made  sail  to  the  southeast  breeze  that  had 
set  in,  and  stretched  away  into  the  northwest,  the  Captain's 
boat  in  the  lead.  The  wind  gathered  strength  from  the 
southeast,  giving  us  a  following  breeze  for  the  port  toward 
which  we  were  steering,  and  both  boats  made  good  weather 
of  the  moderate  sea  then  ruuuiug,  sweeping  along  at  the 
rate  of  live  knots  to  the  hour. 

All  that  afternoon  the  boats  kept  within  sight  of  oue 
another,  and  •when  night  fell  not  over  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
divided  us.  With  the  first  flush  of  dawn  we  swept  the 
expanse  of  waters,  but  nothing  was  to  be  seen.  We  were 
alone.  Every  little  while  during  the  day  that  followed  we 
•would  scan  the  horizon,  hoping  to  lift  the  long-boat's  sail 
into  view  ;  but  in  vain.  We  never  saw  her  again,  or  heard 
tidings  of  the  twelve  brave  souls  from  whom  we  had  parted 
only  a  few  hours  before.  That  she  never  reached  port  is 
certain;  but  what  her  ultimate  fate  proved,  no  one  knows. 

It  blew  up  a  gale  of  wind  that  afternoon,  and  I  heard  the 
mate  say  that  the  storm  experienced  during  the  week  that 
was  past  had  recurved,  and  that  we  would  get  it  worse 
than  ever  on  its  back  track.  To  prevent  the  boat  from 
foundering,  we  unstepped  the  mast,  made  a  span  to  it  by 
securing  a  length  of  rope  to  each  end,  and  to  the  middle  of 
this  bridle  we  bent  the  boat's  painter.  Then  we  dropped 
this  sea-anchor  over  the  bows,  anil  rode  to  it,  the  strain 
upon  the  painter  keeping  the  bead  of  the  boat  to  the  seas 
tliat  rolled  down  on  us. 

When  night  settled  upon  the  deep  it  shut  out,  oue  of  the 
wildest  sights  of  ocean-lashed  waters  that  I  had  ever  seen; 
but  the  darkness  only  intensified  the  terror,  for  in  the  black- 
ness we  would  feel  the  frail  boat  swung  with  dizzy  velocity 
up  and  up  and  up  on  some  mountainous  SIM,  .-is  though  she 
was  never  going  to  stop:  then,  uhilr  the-  great  seething 
crest  was  roaring  in  a  thousand  diabolical  voices  about  us. 


she  would  drop  down, down, down  with  a  motion  that  was 
like  falling  through  space. 

It  might  have  been  the  middle  of  the  night  when,  worn 
out  from  the  labor  of  bailing  without  intermission  for  mauy 
hours,  I  threw  myself  down  in  the  bows  of  the  boat,  and 
locking  my  arms  around  one  of  the  thwarts  to  keep  from 
being  pitched  about,  I  fell  into  an  exhausted  sleep.  I  don't 
know  how  long  I  slept,  but  I  was  brought  to  my  senses  by 
a  sea  bursting  iuto  the  boat,  and  I  found  my  legs  wedged 
under  the  seat  as  I  sat  half  suffocated  on  the  flooring  with 
the  water  np  to  my  armpits.  Looking  aft,  I  could  see  by 
the  phosporescent  glow  of  the  breaking  seas  that  no  shapes 
of  men  were  visible  against  the  background  of  sky.  My 
companions  were  gone. 

The  gunwale  of  the  boat  was  withiu  a  few  inches  of  the 
water,  and  it  needed  ouly  the  spume  of  another  wave  fall- 
ing in  the  boat  to  sink  her.  There  was  no  time  for  indulg- 
ing in  grief  over  the  loss  of  my  shipmates — there  was  time 
only  for  work,  and  very  little  for  that,  if  I  was  to  save  my 
life.  Tearing  oft"  my  cap,  I  used  it  as  a  bailer  and  worked 
desperately. 

At  last  another  morning  came,  and  with  it  the  gale  broke; 
but  I  allowed  the  boat  to  remain  hove  to  during  that  clay 
and  following  night,  so  as  to  give  the  seas  a  chance  to  go 
down. 

The  second  morning  dawned  clear  and  beautiful,  with 
the  ocean  subsided  into  long  even  swells,  and  the  wind  set- 
tled down  again  to  the  regular  trades.  Most  of  the  provi- 
sions had  beeu  ruiued  by  the  sea  that  had  filled  the  boat, 
but  I  found  two  water-tight  tins  filled  with  pilot-bread 
that  promised  to  supply  my  needs  for  some  time  to  come. 
The  fresh  water  iu  the  boat-breakers  had  kept  sweet  owing 
to  the  bungs  being  in  place. 

I  had  opened  oue  of  the  tins,  and  was  sitting  ou  a  thwart 
making  a  breakfast  from  its  contents,  when,  happening 
to  look  astern,  I  made  out,  not  more  than  a  mile  away, 
the  wreck  of  a  small  vessel.  Everything  about  the  fore- 
mast was  standing  below  the  cross  -  trees,  but  only  the 
splintered  stumps  of  her  maiu  and  mizzeu  masts  were  to  be 
seen  above  the  deck,  while  the  spars  themselves,  together 
with  their  gear,  were  hanging  in  a  wild  confusion  over  the 
side.  I  got  in  my  drag,  restepped  the  mast,  set  the  sail, 
and  bore  down  upon  the  •wreck.  As  I  drew  close  to  her  I 
expected  to  see  some  signs  of  her  crew,  for  the  vessel  sat 
fairly  high  iu  the  water,  and  looked  seaworthy  enough  to 
be  navigated  into  port  by  making  sail  upon  the  fore,  and 
rigging  up  jury-masts  on  the  two  stumps  abaft — plenty  of 
material  for  such  to  be  found  in  the  raffle  alongside.  No 
evidence,  however,  of  life  showed  itself  when  I  rounded  uu- 
der  the  stern,  reading  the  name  Mercedes  in  large  white  let- 
ters. Letting  fly  my  sheet,  I  caught  the  leeward  chain- 
plates,  aud  jumping  on  board  with  the  painter,  I  seinnd 
the  same  to  a  belayiug-pin,  aud  looked  about  me. 

I  was  at  once  sensible  that  there  was  some  water  in  the 
hold  by  the  peculiar  motion  of  the  vessel  as  she  rose  and 
fell  to  the  seas  that  underrau  her;  but  at  the  same  time  it 
was  apparent  that  there  could  not  be  anything  like  a  dan- 
gerous quantity,  otherwise  the  plane  of  the  deck  would 
have  floated  much  closer  to  the  surface  of  the  sea.  With- 
out regarding  the  nationality  of  the  name,  it  was  clear  to 
me  that  the  vessel  was  either  a  Portuguese  or  Italian 
trader  by  the  rainbow  character  of  her  paint -work,  the 
slovenliness  of  the  rigging,  that  was  yet  almost  intact  upon 
the  fore,  aud,  in  spite  of  the  drenching  that  she  had  re- 
ceived, the  unmistakable  evidences  of  dirt  everywhere. 
There  were  no  boats  left,  but  whether  they  had  beeu  crush- 
ed iu  the  wreck  of  the  masts  or  had  received  the  crew  of 
the  liarkentine — for  such  I  saw  had  been  her  rig — I  could 
not  tell. 

Entering  the  cabiu,!  overhauled  the  four  state-rooms  it 
contained,  finding  in  three  of  them  nothing  but  such  odds 
and  ends  as  are  peculiar  to  sailors'  chests,  and  in  the  fourth 
loiim.  which  had  been  used  as  a  pantry,  quite  an  assort- 
ment of  boxes  and  barrels  of  provisions,  although  there 
was  proof  that  some  of  them  had  been  broken  into  and 
rummaged  quite  recently. 

Then  I  went  on  deck  again  and  lifted  oft' one  of  the  main 
hatch  covers.  Xo  cargo  of  any  nature  was  to  be  seeu,uo- 


930 


HAKPEE'S   BOUND   TABLE 


thing  but  a  mass  of  black  oily  water  washing  from  side  to 
side.  It  was  plain  that  the  vessel  was  in  ballast,  that  she 
had  sprung  a  leak  in  the  last  gale  of  wind,  that  her  crew 
had  become  frightened,  had  giveu  her  up  for  lost,  and  taken 
to  i  lie  I. outs.  It  was  also  clear  that  the  Irak  had  stopped 
itself  in  some  manner — possibly  when  the  old  tub  had 
ceased  straining  after  the  sea  went  down  —and  that  if  I 
could  pump  out  the  hull  I  might  be  able  to  put  her  before 
the  wind  by  making  sail  on  the  fore,  and  so,  with  the  favor- 
ing trade  winds,  let  the  Jin-cedes  drift  along  to  the  port 
dead  away  to  leeward. 

A  sailor  is  never  idle  long  after  laying  out  bis  work. 
First  I  emptied  my  boat  of  its  water-breakers  and  pro- 
visions, then  let  it  tow  astern.  Next  I  got  an  axe  out  of 
the  boatswain's  locker  and  chopped  away  the  rigging  that 
held  the  broken  spars  to  the  bark,  then  when  the  vessel 
was  clear  I  squared  the  topsail-yard  by  the  braces,  ran 
aloft,  cast  off  the  gaskets  that  held  the  sail,  descended  to 
the  deck,  where  I  sheeted  home  the  topsail  as  well  as  pos- 
sible, and  carried  the  halyards  through  a  leading  block  to 
the  capstan,  on  which  I  hove  away  until  I  had  lifted  the 
yard  as  high  as  my  strength  allowed.  Next  I  ran  up  the 
jib,  sheeted  it  down,  and  raced  aft  to  the  wheel.  I  put  the 
tiller  up,  and  the  old  bucket  at  once  answered  her  helm. 
When  I  got  her  fairly  before  the  wind  I  lashed  the  wheel, 
and  seeing  that  she  would  steer  herself,  with  only  a  little 
watching,  I  got  to  work  at  the  pumps. 

By  the  time  night  arrived  I  had  sunk  the  water  in  the 
hold  to  half  its  original  depth.  Then  I  settled  away  the 
topsail  and  let  it  hang.  The  jib  I  left  standing,  knowing 
that  it  would  help  to  keep  the  vessel  out  of  the  trough, 
even  if  it  did  little  or  no  good  in  the  way  of  forcing  the 
bark  ahead.  The  weather  promised  to  continue  clear  and 
moderate,  so  I  built  afire  in  the  galley  range,  brought  a 
quantity  of  stores  from  the  pantry,  and  made  a  hearty  meal. 
I  "  turned  in  all  standing,"  as  seamen  say  when  they  go  to 
bed  without  undressing,  and  slept  long  and  heavily. 

The  next  morning  I  again  set  my  topsail,  and  scudded 
away  to  leeward  while  I  finished  clearing  the  bark  of  water. 

It  was  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  I  had  gone 
up  on  the  little  top-gallant-forecastle  to  have  a  look  at  the 
Mi-i-i-i'iles  ground-tackle,  when  I  made  out,  about  two  points 
on  the  bow,  and  less  than  a  mile  away,  a  ship's  boat  filled 
with  men.  They  had  discovered  the  bark,  for  they  were 
pulling  to  get  in  her  path.  As  soon  as  I  appeared  to  them 
there  was  a  waving  of  hats  and  a  confusion  of  cheers  and 
calls.  By  the  time  that  I  had  settled  away  the  topsail- 
balvards  and  pulled  the  jib  down  the  boat  was  alongside, 
and  her  late  occupants  were  tumbling  over  the  rail.  The 
first  one  to  touch  the  deck  was  a  fat  little  man,  almost  as 
swarthy  as  a  Malay,  and  twice  as  dirty,  who  wore  enormous 
gold  hoops  in  his  ears,  and  a  dilapidated  red  fez  upon  a 
mop  of  greasy  black  hair.  He  rushed  np  to  me  so  wild 
with  excitement  that  lie  kept  hopping  up  and  down  like  a 
jumping -jack,  while  he  smote  his  breast  and  screamed 
something  in  Portuguese. 

I  shook  my  head  and  said,  thumping  my  own  breast, 
"  No  speakee  Portuguese  ;  me  American  !" 

At  this  he  yelled,  accompany  ing  his  words  with  such  a 
tremendous  smiting  of  his  poor  ribs  that  I  thought  he 
would  beat  them  in. 

"Me  speakee  Americano!  Me  Capitauo !  Me  Capitano 
this  sheep!  How  you  come  ?  me  say!" 

I  saw-  how  it  was.  I  had  picked  up  the  crew  of  the 
Mercedes  three  days  after  they  bad  abandoned  the  vessel  to 
which  they  had  just  returned. 

I  held  up  my  hand  as  a  sign  to  the  frantic,  jabbering 
monkeys  to  keep  silence,  then  I  explained  partly  by  broken 
English  and  the  rest  by  signs  how  I  had  found  the  bark 
deserted,  had  pumped  her  out,  and  was  trying  to  reach  the 
eoast  of  South  America  in  her.  I  ended  by  telling  t  lie  Cap- 
tain that  I  was  glad  to  see  him,  and  to  give-  him  back  his 

Vessel. 

He  was  so  overpowered  with  gratitude  and  joy  at  such 
an  unexpected  and  happy  ending  to  his  troubles  lh.it  he 
tlini";  his  dirty  arms  around  my  neck  and  kissed  my  cheeks 
effusively  in  the  fulness  of  his  heart.  I  was  an  honored 
guest  oil  board  the  Captain's  "sheep  "  from  that  time 'forth, 


and  several  days  later  when,  crippled  and  torn,  tin-  ) •  old 

Mercedes  staggered  into  the  beautiful  harbor  of  Kio  Janeiro, 
and  I  took  leave  of  the  uncouth  but  kindly  and  grateful 
sailor,  he  repeated  his  kissing  act,  and  forced  into  ni\  hand 
a  small  bag  of  gold  pieces,  representing  piol.ably  all  his 
savings,  while  he  said, 

"You  take  dees.     Me  love  brave  Americano   sailor  who 
save  me  sheep." 


CARRIER-PIGEONS. 

BY   ANNE    IIELME. 

IN  the  middle  of  the  square  around  which  the  HeraliJ 
building  is  built  in  New  York  city  is  a  carrier-pigeon 
house  on  a  level  with  the  roof.  It  is  a  square  house,  large 
enough  for  a  good-sized  play-honse,  and  has  a  piazza, 
a  porch  fenced  in  with  wire,  where  the  birds  can  exercise 
until  they  have  learned  enough  to  be  allowed  to  fly  around 
the  city,  for  pigeons  require  a  great  deal  of  exercise  not 
only  in  flying, but  in  walking.  Just  notice  the  next  time  you 
see  a  flock  of  pigeons  wheu  they  light  on  the  ground,  or 
on  the  roofs  of  buildings,  how  they  walk  up  and  down  fora 
long  time. 

Great  care  is  taken  with  the  pigeons.  Their  pedigree  is 
kept  and  they  are  all  named.  Then,  too,  a  mark  is  stamp- 
ed on  their  under  w  ings,  so  there  shall  be  no  mistake,  and 
by  this  means  they  have  often  been  recovered  and  sent 
home  when  they  have  lost  their  bearings  or  have  been 
stolen.  The  man  whose  duty  it  is  to  attend  to  them  takes 
a  personal  interest  in  each  and  every  bird. 

At  night,  when  the}'  come  home,  he  looks  to  see  that  all 
are  there,  and  to  prevent  any  strangers  from  mixing  with 
his  own  particular  Hock.  Pigeons  are  very  homelike  in 
their  tastes,  and  rarely  does  a  day  pass  that  several  strange 
birds  do  not  join  them.  They  are  fed  chiefly  on  cracked 
corn,  but  they  require  more  water  than  food — and  water 
is  absolutely  necessary  to  their  health  and  happiness. 
The  amount  they  consume  is  almost  incredible — more  than 
double  that  of  other  birds. 

Their  home  instinct,  which  is,  of  course,  their  distinguish- 
ing characteristic,  is  very  marvellous.  So  strongly  devel- 
oped is  it  that  it  is  impossible  to  keep  the  older  birds 
away,  and  the  gift  of  a  pair  of  old  birds  is  a  very  thank- 
less one,  as  they  will  inevitably  fly  home  the  moment  they 
are  liberated,  although  they  may  be  carried  miles  and 
miles  away,  and  in  a  covered  basket.  The  birds  chosen  to 
carry  the  messages  from  the  yachts  or  steamers  are  sent 
down  the  Bay  for  several  days,  so  that  they  may  prove 
how  swiftly  they  can  fly  back,  and  each  day  are  liberated. 
and  a  record  kept  of  the  time  they  make  in  getting  back  to 
the  office. 

When  a  newspaper  tug  starts  down  the  bay  for  the  yacht- 
races  which  are  taking  place  just  now,  one  of  the  principal 
articles  taken  aboard  is  the  big  basket  filled  with  carrier- 
pigeons,  and  each  bird  has  a  brass  band  on  its  foot.  At 
different  times  during  the  race  messages  are  written  on  the 
thinnest  of  paper  and  made  into  small  parcels.  Tbe^ 
attached  to  the  baud,  and  the  birds  thrown  up  into  the  air. 
A  pair  are  usually  sent  off  together,  as  they  fly  better,  it  is 
thought,  in  that  way. 

For  a  moment  they  wheel  about  apparently  dazed,  poise 
themselves  for  perhaps  a  second,  and  then  lly  .straight  tot- 
home. 

On  one  of  these  races  from  half  an  hour  to  thirty-five 
minutes  was  the  longest  time  taken  from  the  moment  they 
were  thrown  into  the  air  until  they  arrived  at  their  des- 
tination, ami  the  messages  were  taken  from  their  feet.  It 
was  a  beautiful  sight,  and  a  wondrous  one.  to  see  these 
birds  arrive.  Curiously  enough,  in  some  instances  lbe\ 
brought  back  with  them  strange  pigeons  who  had  joined 
them  on  the  trip,  evidently  much  interested  to  Know  the 
outcome  of  the  yacht-race.  The  strange  birds  did  not  stay 
at  the  cote  alter  nightfall,  and  apparently  felt  ' 
selves  quite  out  of  place  with  pigeons  of  such  intellt-. 

It  is  now  well  proved  that  carrier-pigeons  can  be  used 
to  good  purpose,  for  the  news  of  the  yachts  was  by  their 
aid  cou\e\ed  much  sooner  to  headquarters  than  othc 


931 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


CARRIER-PIGEONS    COMING    TO    THEIR    COTE. 


would  have  been  possible,  and  tlie  question  is  nonr  being 
discussed  as  to  whether  it  will  not  be  advisable  for  all 
ocean  steamships  to  carry  them,  so  that  it' any  vessel  were 
disabled  at  sea,  and,  as  lias  often  happened,  met  with  no 
other  steamer,  by  their  means  word  might  be  sent  back  to 
shore.  An  interesting  article  on  this  very  subject  was 
published  recently  iu  one  of  the  daily  papers,  giving  au 
account  of  an  experiment  that  was  tried  and  with  great 
success.  Five  thousand  pigeons  were  put  on  board  the 
Uanoiibia,  sailing  from  Saint  Nazaire,  and  at  distances  va- 
rying from  one  hundred  to  five  hundred  miles  were  lib- 
erated. 

The  results  were  beyond  the  most  sanguine  hopes,  for 
within  a  shorter  time  than  had  been  deemed  possible  they 
had  all,  almost  without  exception,  returned  to  their  pigeon- 
houses. 

It  would  not  mean  a  great  addition,  either  in  money  or 
care,  to  have  these  birds  on  every  ship  that  left  the  port, 
and  certainly  great  good  might  be  done  and  endless  anxiety 
saved  in  many  instances,  it'  intelligence  as  to  a  disabled 
ship's  whereabouts  could  reach  her  owners. 

In  order  to  make  carrier-pigeons  at  home  in  any  place 
they   must  be  taken   there  very  young.      Even   birds   six 
weeks  old  will  make  their  way  back  to 
the    nest,  the    instant    they   are   liber- 
ated, as  distance  is  as  nothing  to  them.  HHHHHI 
One  pair  sent  out  to  Wilmington,  Dela- 
ware, were  kept  shut  up  for  six  weeks, 
fed  and  watered  with  the  utmost  care 
and  regularity.     The  seventh  week  they 
were  set  free,  and  at  once  disappeared. 
Their  owner   telegraphed  to  their  old 
home,  and  received  an  answer  that  the 
birds  had  arrived  there  before  his  tele- 
gram was  received. 

One  pair  of  the  pigeons,  which  were 
named  Annie  Rooney  and  McGinty,  were 
given  tn  a  boy  of  eleven  who  lives  in 
New  York  city.  They  were  very  young 
when  they  were  given  to  him,  and  he  de- 
termined to  train  them  so  that  they 
would  always  make  their  home  at  his 
house.  For  six  weeks  he  kept  them  in 
his  room  in  a  mocking-bird  cage,  and 
was  very  careful  about  the  food  and 
water.  In  the  day-time  he  put  the  caue 
outside  the  window,  and  wheu  it  rained 
covered  it  with  a  cloth,  for  pigeons, 
while  they  use  a  great  deal  of  water 
both  to  bathe  iu  and  to  drink,  do  nut 
like  to  be  out  in  the  rain. 


When  six  weeks  were  passed  he  opened 
the  cage  door  and  fastened  it  so  that  the 
birds  could  go  out.  At  first  they  were 
contented  to  poke  their  heads  out  of  the 
open  door,  but  finally,  after  a  great  deal 
of  conversation  (pigeons  are  great  con- 
versationalists), out  they  flew.  They 
seemed  hardly  to  know  the  use  of  their 
wings  at  first,  and  circled  around  in  a 
dazed  way,  alighting  on  the  top  of  a 
neighboring  roof,  where  they  apparently 
had  again  a  great  deal  to  say  to  each 
other.  For  twenty  minutes  they  talked, 
then  seemed  to  have  made  up  their  minds 
to  try  a  long  flight,  for  with  one  graceful 
swoop  into  the  air,  oft'  they  flew.  Hours 
went  by,  and  they  did  not  return,  and 
when  it  was  nearly  dark  all  hope  was 
abandoned;  but  suddenly  there  was  a 
whir  of  wings,  and  Annie  Rooney  came 
home.  McGinty  still  was  absent.  An- 
nie Rooney  perched  herself  on  her  roost, 
every  feather  rumpled  up  most  disconso- 
lately, while  the  boy  who  owned  them 
went  to  bed  very  low  in  his  mind.  At 
daylight  next  morning  he  was  awakened 
by  such  a  cooing  as  he  had  never  heard 
before.  Rushing  to  the  window,  there  he  saw  McGinty,  in 
the  wildest  excitement,  and  with  his  head  almost  buried 
in  the  little  dish  which  held  the  drinking  water. 

From  that  day  the  cage  was  left  outside,  and  the  door 
taken  oft',  so  that  the  birds  might  come  and  go  as  they 
chose. 

Then,  alas!  began  their  troubles.  So  pleased  were  they 
with  their  little  journey  into  the  world  that  they  at  once 
set  out  to  explore  the  houses  near  by,  and  every  day  a  note 
was  sent  iu  from  some  neighbor  to  the  effect:  "Extremely 
sorry ,  but  your  pigeons  fly  into  my  bedroom  and  knock 
down  all  the  ornaments."  "  Your  birds  insist  upon  walk- 
ing up  and  down  under  my  bed,  making  most  unearthly 
sounds ;  I  am  afraid  of  birds  and  cannot  stand  having  them 
in  my  house."  "Again  your  birds  have  flown  into  my 
windows,  and  are  in  the  children's  doll-house.  They  re- 
fuse to  come  out,  and  make  such  a  hideous  noise  as  to 
alarm  the  children." 

These  three  notes  were  only  samples  of  others,  and  after 
a  family  conclave  it  was  decided  the  pigeons  must  be  sent 
away  Summer  was  coming  on,  and  it  was  finally  con- 
cluded the  country  was  the  best  place  for  them. 

Their  owner  took  them  in  a  covered  basket  to  a  farm  ou 


THE    INTERIOR    OF    THE    PIGEONS'    HOME. 


932 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


MoGINTY,  ANNIE    ROONEY,  AND    A    GUEST. 

Long  Islaud,  where  they  -were  put  into  a  pigeon-house,  and 
provided  with  water  and  food.  The  next  day  they  were 
apparently  happy,  so  with  many  regrets  they  were  told 
good-by,  and  the  boy  returned  to  town. 

It  was  a  loug  journey — some  hours — and  it  was  rather 
a  sad-faced  youth  who  mounted  the  steps  and  told  his  mo- 
ther he  had  left  his  Vjirds  in  the  country.  It  was  then  sis 
o'clock  in  the  evening.  At  ten  minutes  past  six  there  was 
a  great  fluttering  of  wings,  and  lo  and  behold,  Annie  Roouey 
and  McGiuty  had  returned,  and  prouder  and  happier  pi- 
geous  never  were  seen. 


ON    BOARD    THE    AEK. 

BY   ALBERT  LEE. 
CHAPTER     VII. 

IT  seemed  to  Tommy  as  if  the  Gopher  would  never  get 
enough.  The  little  boy  had  never  before  witnessed 
such  voracity.  By  actual 
count  he  had  seen  seven- 
teen plates  of  soup  vanish 
into  his  neighbor's  system, 
and  yet  there  was  no  ap- 
parent ill  effect.  The  Go- 
pher threw  each  empty  dish 
under  the  table,  so  that  the 
pile  of  crockery  was  now 
so  high  in  front  of  his  chair 
thai  he  could  rest  his  feet 
on  it. 

"Really,"  said  Tommy  at 
last,  "I  never  saw  such  a 
greedy  thing  as  you  in  all 
my  life." 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  an- 
swered the  Gopher,  com- 
placently ;  "  the  eating 
question  is  a  most  impor- 
tant, one,  and  I'm  afraid 
they'll  all  get  up  and  say 
dinner  is  over  before  I've 
had  half  enough." 

"  It  seems  to  me  that 
yon  have  had  more  than 
enough.  And,  besides,  I 
have  an  aunt  who  says  one 
should  always  arise  from 
the  table  hungry." 

"Never  you  mind  that 
Ant,"  said  the  Gopher. 
"Ants  don't  count.  They 
are  so  little  they  can't  hold 


anything,  anyhow.  As  for  getting  up 
t'riiTii  the  table.  hungry,  that  is  .something 
I  cannot  nuclei-stand.  1  always  sit  down 
hungry  ;  and  it  would  never  do  to  lie  hun- 
gry at  both  ends  of  the  meal,  now  would 
it?" 

On   relleetion  Tommy  did  not    think  it 

would,  and  as  he  had  lieei re  than  half 

inclined  at  the  oiilset  inward  the  (Ciph- 
er's view  of  the  ease,  they  s agreed  mi 

this  point.      Then  the  little  animal  said. 
-"  Thtsuawll)  t'miyiinsnt  ?" 
"I  can't  understand  you  when  you  talk 
with  your  mouth  full,"  replied  Tommy. 

The  Gopher  made  a  great  effort,  and 
swallowed  so  hard  that  his  eyes  fairly 
bulged.  Then  he  said, 

"That's  an  awfully  funny  one,  isn't  it?" 
"What  one?" 
"The  one  next  to  you." 
"Him?"  said  Tommy,  pointing  at  the 
ex-Pirate. 

"Um,"  continued  the  Gopher,  nodding 
his  head,  for  his  mouth  was  full  again. 
"Ain't  he?" 

"  He  is  a  very  nice  gentleman,"  remarked  Tommy,  for 
lack  of  anything  more  definite  to  say. 
"What  kind  is  he?"  asked  the  Gopher. 
"He's  an  ex-1'irate." 

"  A  Pie  Rat  ?     Goodness,  how  he  has  changed !" 
"Oh  yes,  he  has  changed,"  continued  Tommy.     "He  is 
very  good  now.     He  has  entirely  reformed." 

"I  should  say  he  had.  His  form  is  entirely  different,  I 
knew  a  Pie  Rat  once,  but  he  was  not  at  all  like  this  one. 
He  does  not  look  like  a  Pie  Rat  at  all." 

"Oh  yes  he  does!"  exclaimed  Tommy,  eagerly,  although 
he  realized  as  soon  as  he  had  spoken  that  he  had  never 
seen  any  real  active  pirate.  But  he  added,  "He  is  all 
tixed  up  just  like  a  real  pirate." 

"Well,  he  isn't,"  said  the  Gopher,  dictatorially.  "The 
Pie  Rat  I  kuew  looked  like  any  other  rat,  but  he  only  ate 
pie.  Does  this  one  eat  pie  ?" 

"  Did  you  say  rat  ?"  asked  Tommy. 

"  I  said  Pie  Rat,"  answered  the  Gopher. 


THE    LION    CALLED    THE    ASSEMBLED   MULTITUDE   TO   ORDER. 
933 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"  Well,  you  don't  want  to  let  him  hear  you  say  rat.  You 
must  say  ex-Pirate  ;  that,  means  that  he  is  not  a  pirate  any 
more." 

"That's  just  what  I  said," persisted  the  Gopher.  "I  said 
he  did  not  look  like  a  Pie  Rat,  and  so  he  is  not  a  Pie  Rat, 
and  that's  all  there  is  to  it."  Then  he  threw  up  his  hands 
and  shouted.  "  Oh  my  !  look  at  that !" 

Tommy  glanced  up  toward  the  head  of  the  table,  and  saw 
that  the  Lion  was  helping  himself  to  fully  half  of  what,  had 
been  placed  before  him. 

••What  a  lot  he  takes!"  remarked  the  little  hoy,  in  sur- 
prise. 

"  Always,  "said  the  Gopher.  "But  it's  the  Lion's  share, 
and  I  suppose  he  is  entitled  to  it.  I  wish  I  was  a 
Lion."' 

"I  don't, "said  Tommy,  hastily,  for  he  felt  that  he  much 
preferred  a  small  animal  like  the  Gopher  for  a  neighbor  to 
a  possible  Lion. 

"Well, I  don't  really  believe  I  would  like  to  he  a  Lion, 
after  all,"  the  Gopher  went  on  to  say.  "If  I  could  make 
myself  all  over  a^ain,  I  should  be  part  Elephant,  part Camel, 
and  part  Giraffe." 

"What,  a  funny-looking  creature  you  would  be!" 

"Oh,  I  would  not  mind  that.  I  don't  care  much  about 
appearances.  Eating  is  what  interests  me." 

"I  should  think  so,"  commented  Tommy. 

"And  then  think  of  the  advantages  of  such  a  combina- 
tion," pursued  the.  Gopher.  "If  I  were  part,  Elephant  I 
should  be  as  big  as  any  animal:  and  if  I  were  part  Camel 
I  should  have  four  stomachs;  and  then  I  should  want  a 
Giraffe's  neck.  Just  think  of  how  long  things  taste  good 
ill  a  Giraffe's  throat.  Why,  it's  two  yards  long!  And 
mine  is  only  about  half  an  inch.  How  many  times  better 
does  a  piece  of  pie  taste  to  a  Giraffe  than  it  does  to 
me?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Toimnv  Toddles,  verv  prompt- 

]y- 

"Well,  I've  figured  it  all  out  many  a  time,"  added  the 
Gopher,  "and  I  can  tell  yen.  A  throat  two  yards  loug  is 
twice  thirty-six  inches  loug,  isn't  it?" 

"  Yes." 

"That's  seventy-two  inches.  And  if  my  throat  is  only 
half  an  inch  loug,  the  Giraffe's  throat  is  one  hundred  and 
forty-four  times  as  long  as  mine,  and  so  the  pie  tastes  one 
hundred  and  forty-four  times  as  good." 

Tommy  marvelled  at.  the  Gopher's  proficiency  in  arith- 
metic, but  his  mind  soon  reverted  to  the  question  at  hand, 
and  he  began  to  wonder  how  much  better  pie  would  taste 
if  his  own  neck  was  one  hundred  and  forty-four  inches 
long.  He  was  going  to  ask  his  neighbor  for  further  infor- 
mation on  the  subject,  but  when  he  turned  around  toward 
the  Gopher  he  saw  that  the  little  animal  had  in  some  way 
gotten  possession  of  the  soup-tureen,  and  had  thrust  his 
head  into  it,  and  was  almost  drowning  because  he  could 
not  get  it  out.  And  then,  just  as  the  ex-Pirate  and  Tommy 
had  rescued  the  Gopher  from  a  soupy  grave,  the  Lion  arose 
at  the  head  of  the  table,  and  pounded  loudly  on  the  board 
and  called  the  assembled  multitude  to  order. 

When  silence  had  spread  over  the  room,  the  King  of 
Beasts  announced  that  the  Goat  had  eaten  the  passenger 
list  and  other  important  notices  off  the  bulletin  board,  and 
that  it  was  thus  impossible  for  him  as  toast-master  to  know 
who  was  present  and  who  was  not,  and  so  he  could  not  call 
on  anyone  by  name-  to  make  a  speech.  He  added,  however, 
that  any  one  who  desired  to  make  a  speech  might  do  so,  or, 
instead  of  a  speech,  any  animal  could  sing  a  song  or  tell  a 
story.  Having  made  this  announcement,  the  Lion  sat  down 
again  :  and  all  the  animals  glared  frowningly  upon  the  Goat, 
who  stroked  his  whiskers  nervously  and  looked  etnbar- 
ra-;si'd.  either  because  of  these  rebuking  glances  or  pos- 
sibly because  of  the  antediluvian  ink  on  the  passenger 
list, 

"I  feel  awfully  sorry  for  that  Goat,"  whispered  the  Go- 
pher to  Tommy. 

''Why  don't  you  get  up  and  make  a  speech  then,  and 
distract  the  general  attention  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  any  speech,"  answered  the  Gopher ;  "  hut 
I  know  a  joke." 


"Tell  the  joke,"  urged  Tommy;  and  so  the  Gopher  stood 
up  in  his  chair,  and  took  oft"  his  pink  sun-bonnet,  anil  said 
he  wanted  to  tell  his  joke. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


A  STORY  OF  CORN -BREAD   AND  CROWS. 

BY  DORA  READ  GOODALE. 

O  sportsmen  one  morning,  right    dashing  to  view 
In  velvet  and  buckskin  from   helmet  to  shoe. 
Were  passing  the  field  where  the  river  runs  by, 
When  they  chanced  in  the  distance  a  figure  to  spy — 
Such  a  figure  as  farmers,  from  time  out  of  ken, 
Convinced  that  in  clothes  is  the  measure  of  men, 
Have  fashioned  in  spring-time  of  brushwood  and  bay 
For  the  cheating  of  Solous  more  crafty  than  they. 

"Sir  Scarecrow;  behold  him!"  the  first  hunter  cries — 
"What  a  marvel  of  rags  which   a  Jew  would  despise! 
Here's  a  fig  for  the  bird  that  so    witless  appears 
When  he's  lived  among  Yaukees  a  good  fifty  y:n- 
If  the  fowl  really   tlics  that  his   corn-bread  would  miss 
For  a  wooden-legged,  broken-backed  puppet  like  this! 
Come,  choose  a  few  nubbins  to  roast  on  the  spot, 
While  I  pepper  his  crown   with   a  capful  of  shot." 

Now  the  farmer  that  morning  was  tilling  his  soil, 
Flushed,  ragged,  and  snnbrowned,  and  grimy  with  toil, 
When  pausing  a  moment,  as  all  farmers  will, 
He  spied  our  two  friends  coming  over  the  hill. 
"Good  laud!"  quoth  the  rustic,  "a   nice  thing  it  is 
Fer  two  city  fellers  to  ketch  me  like  this!" 
Then,  dropping  his  hoe,  he  exclaims  with  a  grin, 
"  Youug  chaps,  I'll  be  blessed  ef  I  don't  take  you  in!" 

So,  urging  his  slow  wits  to  cope  with  the  case, 
He  jerks  his  old  hat  down  to  cover  his  face, 
Stretches  limb  like  a,  windmill  that  spreads  to  the  breeze, 
Draws  his   fists  up  like  turtles  and  stiffens  his  knees; 
Yet  a  tremor  of  fun  through  the  homespun  appears 
As  the  sound  of  that  parley  floats  back  to  his  ears, 
And  the  honest  ears  burn  as  it  calls  up  the   words 
Which  declare  that  in  plumes  is  the  making  of  birds! 

One  moment  the  huntsman  his  target  surveys, 
Wliile  his  laughing  companion   is  gleaning  the  maize, 
When  that  fetich  of  bumpkins,  that  burlesque  in   bran. 
Starts,  twitches,  grows  limber,  shouts,  moves — is  a  man  : 
"Git  enough  fer  a  roast,  while  ye're  gittin',"  drawls  hi, 
"Ef  I  ain't  quite  the  blockhead  you  tuk  me  to  be. 
W'y,  it's  nater  seuce  Adam  to  run  arter  clo'es, 
But  Ftl  go  sort  o'  slow  as  to  GOTn-brcud  an'  croir*  .'" 


HOW    REDDY    GAINED 
COMMISSION. 


HIS 


BY    CAPTAIN    CHARLES     A.   CURT  IS,  U.S.  A. 

Part  IE. 

WHEN  Reddy  found  himself  in  the  water,  he  realized 
the  impossibility  of  swimming  to  the  shore,  and  be- 
gan to  struggle  in  an  effort  to  reach  the  jam.  This  jam 
had  its  origin  in  a  group  of  sandstone  bowlders  in  the 
centre  of  the  river,  on  the  edge  of  the  rapids.  The  river 
debris  had  collected  and  compacted  about  them  into  sev- 
eral square  yards  of  solid  surface.  To  the  corporal  and 
his  fellow  soldiers,  now  gathered  on  the  shore  and  watch- 
ing the  swimmer,  it  seemed  that  the  hoy  must  be  carried 
pasi  to  certain  death. 

They  were  about  giving  him  up  for  lost  when  they  sa  w 
him  snatch  at  a  branch  attached  to  the  edge  of  the  jam 
and  swing  himself  a.bout,  then  reach  a  protruding  log  :l1"' 
climb  out.  Instantly  he  ran  to  the  outer  end  of  the  log 
and  reached  his  floating  oar.  With,  the  oar  he  caught  the 


934 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


prow  of  the  boat,  and  swinging  it  within  reach  of  his  hands, 
drew  it  out  of  the  water. 

The  soldiers  gazed  at  the  stranded  boys  in  perplexity. 
Tliere  seemed  no  chance  of  rescuing  them.  They  knew  ol 
no  other  boat  nearer  than  the  next  government  post,  nor 
would  a  raft  be  of  use  at  the  head  of  the  roaring  fall.  The 
stream  was  too  deep  for  wading  and  too  near  the  plunge, 
for  swimming.  The  corporal  quickly  mounted  the  mule 
and  rode  to  the  fort  to  report  the  lads'  plight  to  the  com- 
manding officer. 

As  soon  as  possible  an  ambulance  containing  the  officers 
and  Mrs.  Maloney  started  for  the  river.  They  brought 
some  tools,  a  spare  oar,  and  several  coils  of  rope.  A  IV  w 
moments  later  nearly  all  the  men  of  the  garrison  not  on 
duty  lined  the  southern  shore.  Mrs.  Maloney's  worst  fears 
seemed  to  be  realized  when  she  saw  her  sou  clinging  help- 
lessly to  the  suag  iu  mid-stream.  Her  auguish  was  heart- 
rending. 

"Ah,  Teddy  b'y!"  she  screamed,  oblivions  to  the  fact 
that  he  could  not  hear  her  voice  above  the  roar  of  the  wa- 
ter, "  don't  ye  let  go  the  tray,  darlint !  Howld  on  till  hilp 
gets  t'  yez !" 

But  how  to  get  to  tliem,  or  to  get  anything  to  them, -was 
a  serious  question.  The  soldiers  were  brave  and  willing 
men,  but  they  did  not  possess  the  skill  of  river-drivers  nor 
the  appliances  and  tools  of  the  craft.  If  the  boys  were 
only  a  mile  farther  up  stream,  clear  of  the  rapids,  a  score 
of  swimmers  could  take  lines  out  to  them;  or,  for  that 
matter,  the  boys  could  swim  ashore  without  assistance. 
The  close  vicinity  of  the  snag  to  the  plunging  and  tumult- 
uous descent  in  the  river  made  all  the  difference. 

Experiment  after  experiment  was  tried.  Several  brave 
fellows  in  turn  tied  the  end  of  the  rope  to  their  waists  and 
swam  out;  but  the  current  pulling  at  the  slack  between 
them  and  the  shore  drew  them  back.  Another  went  far 
up  stream  and  swam  out,  while  the  shore  end  of  the  rope 
was  carried  down  by  comrades  at  the,  same  rate  as  the  flow 
of  the  current.  He  succeeded  in  grasping  the  snag;  but 
the  instant  he  paused  the  titanic  force  of  the  water  tore 
him  away,  burying  him  beneath  the  surface.  He  was 
drawn  ashore  nearly  drowned. 

The  commanding  officer  was  about  to  send  to  the  fort 
for  material  for  a  raft  and  an  anchor,  when  his  attention 
was  called  to  the  boy  on  the  jam.  After  the  failure  of  the 
last  attempt  to  rescue  bis  friend,  Reddy  was  seen  to  ap- 
proach the  boat  and  launch  it.  He  then  drew  it  to  the 
end  of  the  log  previously  mentioned,  held  it.  by  the  stern, 
with  the  prow  pointed  downward,  and  appeared  to  be  look- 
ing for  a  passage  through  the  submerged  bowlders.  Pres- 
ently lie  turned  towards  his  friends  on  shore,  swung  the 
oar  over  his  head,  stepped  on  board,  and  was  quickly  out 
of  sight. 

A  cry  of  alarm  went  up  from  the  soldiers  when  Reddy 
disappeared,  and  they  with  one  accord  started  on  a  run 
down  the  shore.  At  the  foot  of  the  steep  descent  they 
found  the  brave  boy  paddling  his  skiff  into  a  quiet  eddy. 

He  was  greeted  with  vociferous  enthusiasm,  and  a  dozen 
men  shouldered  him  and  the  boat,  and  carried  them  back 
to  the  landing.  There  a  line  was  attached  to  the  stern  of 
the  skiff,  and  a  strong  man  rowed  out  toward  the  suag, 
but  the  current  dragged  it  back  precisely  as  it  had  the 
swimmers.  Captain  Bartlett  next  ordered  the  boat  to  be 
towed  a  quarter  of  a  mile  up  stream,  and  as  it  floated  down 
and  was  rowed  outward  be  directed  the  shore  end  of  the 
line  to  be  carried  along  with  it. 

It  became  quickly  evident  to  the  spectators  that  the 
skiff"  would  reach  the  snag,  aud  an  involuntary  cheer  went 
up,  Mrs.  Maloney  waving  her  apron  and  screaming  with 
tearful  joy.  But  through  some  blunder,  or  lack  of  skill, 
the  original  accident  was  repeated.  The  wherry  dropped 
sideways  against  the  tree  and  was  swamped.  This  time, 
however,  a  line  being  attached,  the  skiff  was  drawn  free, 
and  swung  back  to  the  shore  by  the  pull  of  the  current. 
The  man  clung  to  the  boat  and  was  lauded  at  the  crest  of 
the  rapid. 

The  anguish  of  the  poor  mother  at  the  faiUiro  of  what 
had  promised  to  be  a  certain  rescue  of  her  son  w:is  pitiful. 
She  fell  upon  her  knees,  wrung  her  bands.  -ind  sobbed  in 


abject  despair.     Reddy  approached,  stoop,-,!  1,,-side  her,  and 
placing  an  arm  about  her  neck,  said  : 

"Do  not  cry,  Mrs.  Maloney  ;  I'm  going  to  ask  the  Captain 
I"  lei  me  no  I,,  Teddy,  ami  I'll  have  him  here  with  vou  in 
no  time." 

"No,  no, child.  Don't  y,  be  dhrownded,  too.  \,, thing 
can  save  me  b'y  now  aid  the  inin  have  failed." 

"But  I  mean  to  try  it,  Mrs.  Malonev.  I  M  \  your  tears 
and  watch  me  do  it." 

Teddy  Maloney  on  the  snag  in  midstream  was  now  suf- 
fering intensely.  Seated  upon  a  tree  trunk  barely  ten 
inches  in  diameter,  and  kept  IV, mi  slip], ing  down  its  slope 
by  a  rugged  knot,  bis  position  was  almost,  unendurable. 
For  five  hours  he  had  clung  there  hatless  and  coat  less,  with 
his  back  to  a  broiling  sun.  Dazed  by  suffering  and  diy/.icd 
by  the  leaping,  gliding,  and  wrinkling  water  that  gurgled 
and  pulled  at,  his  half-submerged  legs,  he  was  still  eon  M- ions 
of  the  efforts  being  made  for  his  rescue.  He  saw  Reddy 
shoot  the  rapids,  and  with  a  growing  conviction  that  he 
could  not  hold  on  much  longer,  he  wondered  whv  his  boy 

friend  did  not  come  to  his  aid.     "  He  is  tin ly, one  in  the 

whole  crowd  that  knows  anything  about    a    boat.     Why 
don't  they  let  him  do  something  f"  thought,  poor  Te,l,l\ . 

As  if  in  answer  to  this  silent  appeal,  Kedmond  Carter  at 
the  same  moment  approached  Captain  Bartlett  and  begged 
permission  to  go  for  his  comrade. 

"  But,  Carter,  how  can  you  expect  to  accomplish  what 
these  older  and  stronger  meu  have  failed  to  do  Tasked  the 
Captain. 

"They  do  not  know  what  to  do,  sir.  I  was  born  on  the 
Kennehec,  sir.  I  have  run  barefooted  on  booms,  rafts,  and 
jams,  and  have  boated  in  birch  canoes,  dugouts, punts,  and 
yawls,  and  I  can  run  a  rapid,  as  you  have  just,  seen." 

"A  Kennebec  boy,  Reddy  !"  said  the  officer,  for  the  first 
time  using  the  boy's  pet  name.  "I  know  what  Kennebec 
boys  could  do  when  I  was  one  of  them.  You  may  try  it ; 
but  he  careful." 

Reddy  sprang  into  the  boat  and  began  rowing  up  stream 
iu  the  shore  eddy.  Reaching  the  desired  distance  he  turned 
into  the  middle  of  the  river,  aud  changing  his  seat  to  the 
stern  aud  using  an  oar  for  a  paddle,  he  dropped  down  the 
current  toward  the  snag.  As  he  neared  it,  he  saw  Teddy's 
hands  relax  and  his  body  sway  dightly  to  the  right. 

"Hold  on, Teddy !"  he  shouted.  "  Keep  your  grip!  I'm 
right  here !" 

Gliding  along  the  right  side  of  the  trunk  he  stayed  the 
motion  of  the  skiff' by  grasping  it  with  his  left  hand. 

"Tumble  iu, Teddy — quick!"  he  said. 

Teddy  obeyed,  literally  falling  into  the  bottom  of  tin- 
boat,  limp  and  sprawling  between  the  thwarts. 

Reddy  let  go  the  trunk,  went  towards  the  rapids,  raking 
the  crest  at  the  same  place  he  had  taken  it  before.  Down, 
down  the  boiling,  foaming,  roaring  descent  be  sped,  plying 
his  oar  with  all  his  might,  lest  in  turning  a  frothing  Scylla 
he  might  be  burled  upon  a  threatening  Charybdis.  His 
former  success  attended  him. 

Again  the  soldiers  ran  to  meet  him  at  the  foot  of  the 
watery  slope,  filling  the  air  with  shouts  as  they  ran.  Hut 
thesightof  Teddy  lying  senseless  in  the  bottom  of  tin-  boat 
checked  further  joyous  demonstration.  He  was  tenderly 
lifted  iu  stalwart  arms  and  borne  |,>  :i  grass\  knoll  near 
by,  where  he  was  received  by  his  anxious  mother  and  the 
smut-on  Restorative  treatment  brought  him  b.-i.-k  to  eon- 
seionsness,  and  lie  was  taken  at  once  to  the  fort, 
wln-rry  was  again  carried  to  the  landing  before  the  hay- 
camp,  and  the  crowd  of  soldiers  dispersed  through  the  ra- 
vines and  groves  in  the  direction  of  their  barracks. 

Captain  Bartlett  accompanied  Redmond  Carter  to  the 
place  where  the  mule  and  pony  were  picketed,  and.  say- 
ing that  he  would  ride  Puss  to  t  he  post,  ordered  01 f  the 

men  to  saddle  her, aud  entered  into  conversation  with  the 

••  1  think  you  are  out  of  place  in   the  arms .  (  alter.' 
he. 

-What,  sir!     Have  I  not  always  done  my  duty  well 

asked  1,'eddy,  in  dism:i.\ , 

••  Much  better  tbiin  the  average  soldier,      lint  that  • 
what    I    mean.      You    seem  qnalilic.d    for  something    b 


935 


DOWN,  DOWN    THE    BOILING,  FOAMING,  ROAUINO    DESCENT    HE    SPED. 


than  the  position  you  occupy.  You  are  not  of  the  material 
from  which  the  army  is  usually  recruited.  This  slip  of 
paper,  found  beside  the  orderly  bench  at  the  office,"  ob- 
served the  officer,  handing  the  boy  his  sketch  of  the  Trojan 
horse  with  the  accompanying  Latin  sentence,  "shows  that 
you  have  been  a  student.  I  do  not  know  what  accident 
brought  you  here,  but  I  think  school  is  the  proper  place  for 
you." 

"Nothing  would  please  me  better,  sir,  than  to  be  able  to 
return  to  school ;  but  it  is  not  possible  at  present." 

"Are  you  willing  to  tell  rue  how  you  come  to  be  in  the 
service?" 

"Yes,  sir;  it  is  not  a  long  story,"  replied  the  young  sol- 
dier. "My  father  and  mother  died  when  I  was  too  young 
to  remember  them,  aud  I  was  left  to  the  care  of  a  guardian, 
•who  sent  me  to  school,  aud  afterwards  to  an  academy, 
where  I  prepared  for  college.  I  passed  my  entrance  exam- 
ination to  the  Freshman  class  in  June,  and  expected  to 
go  on  in  September;  but  the  failure  of  companies  in  which 
my  property  had  been  invested  left  me  destitute,  and  I  gave 
it  up." 

"  But  you  have  relatives  ?" 

"Lots  of  them;  but  they  showed  little  inclination  to 
help  me.  There  had  been  some  family  differences  thai  I 
never  understood,  and  I  was  too  proud  to  go  begging  for 
assistance.  I  shipped  on  a  granite-schooner  for  Philadel- 
phia. I  was  miserably  seasick  the  whole  trip,  aud  was  dis- 
charged by  the  master  of  the  vessel  without  pay.  Having 
no  money  I  could  not  find  food  while  looking  for  work.  I 
obtained  an  odd  job  now  and  then,  but  soon  wore  my 
clothes  to  rags,  so  that  no  respectable  establishment  would 
think  of  hiring  me.  I  slept  on  the  streets,  and  frequently 
passed  a  day  without  proper  food.  One  day  I  passed  a 
recruiting-office,  and  it  suggested  a  means  of  escape  from 
destitution.  I  enlisted  as  a  lifer,  and  was  assigned  to  your 
company." 

"  And  you  have  been  with  me  ten  mouths,"  said  the  Cap- 
tain. "  I  suppose  your  relatives  cannot  trace  you  ?" 

"They  might  trace  me  to  Philadelphia,"  replied  Eeddy; 
"  but  the  trail  becomes  dark  there.  Even  if  they  suspected 
I  had  enlisted — which  is  not  likely — they  could  not  find 
me,  for  the  recruiting  sergeant  blundered  in  registering 
my  name.  He  put  me  down  as  Redmond  A.  Carter,  when 
he  should  have  written  it  Raymond  J.  Corser." 

"  Not  a  rare  mistake  of  the  recruiting  officer.  So  you 
are  of  the  General  Corser  family  ?" 


"  He  was  my  grandfather." 

"Then  you  have  only  to  communicate  with  your  rela- 
tives in  order  to  get  out  of  the  army.  Yours  is  an  influen- 
tial family." 

"I  shall  serve  out  my  enlistment,  sir.  The  army  has 
served  me  a  good  turn,  and  when  I  am  discharged  I  shall 
be  in  better  condition  to  find  employment  than  in  Phila- 
delphia." 

"  But  what  has  become  of  your  college  aspirations  ?" 

"It  will  still  be  possible  to  accomplish  that.  Sergeant 
Von  Wald  and  I  are  studying  together,  and  I  think  I  shall 
be  able  to  enter  Sophomore.  Poor  boys  have  worked  their 
way  before." 

"  I  have  noticed  Von  Wald.     Is  he  a  scholar  f" 

"Please  not  to  mention  it, sir;  he  is  a  German  univers- 
ity man.  When  I  am  discharged  I  shall  have  most  of  my 
five  years' pay,  aud  considerable  savings  on  clothing  not 
drawn.  I  expect  it  will  amount  to  nearly  eight  hundred 
dollars." 

For  a  few  moments  the  officer  said  nothing,  but  gazed 
reflectively  across  the  rushing  and  roaring  river.  At  last 
he  turned  again  toward  the  boy  and  asked, "  How  would 
you  like  to  be  an  officer  in  the  army,  Carter?" 

"I  should  like  it  above  all  things, sir;  but  it  is  not  pos- 
sible. While  I  might  make  a  struggle  single-handed 
through  college,  I  could  scarcely  hope  to  secure  an  appoint- 
ment to  West  Point." 

"Still  there  is  a  way.  The  late  Congress  passed  a  law 
allowing  men  who  have  served  two  years  in  the  army,  and 
been  favorably  recommended  by  their  officers,  to  be  exam- 
ined fur  appointment  to  the  grade  of  second  lieutenant. 
You  have  a  little  more  than  four  years  to  serve.  In  that 
time  you  will  have  reached  the  required  age,  and  Lieuten- 
ant Dayton  aud  I  can  give  you  the  necessary  instruction. 
What  do  you  say?" 

"  I'll  make  a  hard  struggle  for  it,  sir,  if  you  will  afford 
me  the  chance." 

Five  years  later  Sergeant  Redmond  A.  Carter  passed  a 
successful  examination  for  a  second  lieu  ten  an  tcy  in  the 
army,  and  was  commissioned  in  the  artillery  under  his 
proper  name,  Raymond  J.  Corser. 

Edward  Maloney,  who  excelled  in  physical  rather  than 
intellectual  attainments,  continued  in  the  service,  becom- 
ing at  the  time  of  his  second  enlistment  first  sergeant  of 
Captain  Bartlett's  company. 


936 


OAKLEIGH. 


BY  ELLEN  DOUGLAS  DKLAND. 


CHAP!  K  I!     XII  I. 

DURING  these   early  months  of  the  year  a  change  had 
come,   over  Miss  Betsey  Triukett's  life.     Silas  Green 
hail  died. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Franklin  went  to  Waybnrongh  for  the 
funeral,  and  found  Miss  Betsey  quite  broken. 

"  To  flunk  that  the,  day  was  tixed  at,  last,"  she  said,  "  and 
he  died  only  the  week  hclore.  Well,  well,  it  does  seem 
passing  queer,  after  all  these  years.  It  doesn't  do  to  put 
a  thins  otf  too  long.  Anil  yet,  perhaps,  it's  all  for  the 
best,  for  if  I'd  given  up  and  gone  down  there  to  live,  I 
should  have  had  nothing  now  to  look  at  hut  the  Soldiers' 
Monument,  and  I'd  have  felt  real  lonesome  without  the 
Merrimac." 

And  with  this  consolation  the  old  lady  took  up  her  life 
again,  and  found  it  very  much  the  same  thing  it  had  been 
before,  with  the  exception  of  Sunday  night.  On  that  even- 
ing she  would  not  have  the  lamps  lighted,  but  would  sit 
in  her  favorite  window  and  look  out  across  the  valley  at 
her  beloved  view,  her  eyes  turned  in  that  direction  long 
after  it  became  too  dark  to  see. 

Sometimes  then  she  regretted  that  she  had  not  yielded 
to  Silas's  arguments,  and  gone  to  live  in  the  house  in  the 
village.        It    would    have 
pleased  him.     And  it  seem- 
ed     very      lonely     Sunday 
night  without  Silas. 

After  a  while — it  was  a 
day  or  two  after  the  com- 
munications came  from 
Bronson — Mr.  Franklin  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  his 
aunt.  She  wa.s  pretty  well, 
but  felt  as  if  she  had  not 
heard  from  them  for  a  long 
time.  She  would  send 
Willy's  present  soon.  Had 
Janet's  been  placed  in  the 
savings  -  bank  ?  She  had 
not  heard  from  Janet  since 
she  sent  it.  Why  did  not 
the  child  write  ? 

As  nothing  had  come  to 
Janet  from  Miss  Trinkett, 
this  caused  some  surprise. 

"  I  am  afraid  Aunt  Bet- 
sey  has  trusted  to  govern- 
ment once  too  often,"  said 
Mr.  Franklin,"  for  evident- 
ly the  package  has  gone 
astray.  I  wonder  what  was 
there  besides  the  gold  dol- 
lars ;>" 

"Something  to  make  it 
an  odd -looking  package, 
you  may  he  sure,  papa," 
said  Cynthia.. 

Mr.  Franklin  inquired  of 
the  postmaster.  That  per- 
sonage was  a.  nervous  little 
man.  much  harassed  with 
the  responsibilities  and  du- 
ties of  liis  position. 

"Something  lost,  Mr. 
Franklin  ?  Now  that's  \  ery 
strange.  I  can't  think  it's 
lost.  Yes,  I  remember  a 
number  of  odd -looking 
packages  that  have  come 
for  your  family  from  Way- 
borongh.  There  may  have 
been  one  lately,  though  I 
can't  say  for  sure.  Let  me 
see.  I  remember  young 


Gordon  coming  for  the  mail  one  day,  and  gel  I  in-  no, 
he  didn't  get  one,  he  sent  it — a  money-order.  Mappi-n 
to  remember  it  because  he  paid  for  it  in  gold.  That's  .-ill 
I  ean  safely  say  about  anything,  Mr.  Franklin.  Theiv  mav 
have  been  a  package —  What  did  yon  say, miss  ?  stamps 
and  postal -cards?  Yes,  yes."  And  the  Imsy  little  man 
turned  to  the  next  coiner. 

Mr.  Franklin  left  the  office  with  a  thoughtful  far,-.  Mi- 
was  a  very  impulsive  man,  too  apt  to  say  the  first  thing 
that  occurred  to  him,  without  regard  to  consequences. 
Therefore  when  he  got  into  the  carriage  and,  taking  the 
reins  from  Edith,  drove  hurriedly  out  High  Street  towards 
Oakleigh,  he  exclaimed : 

"I  am  almost  inclined  to  believe  that  Neal  knows  more 
about  Aunt  Betsey's  present  to  Janet  than  any  of  us." 

Janet,  who  was  perched  on  the  back  seat,  heard  her 
own  name  mentioned,  and  proceeded  to  listen  attentively. 
Both  her  father  and  sister  forgot  that  she  was  there,  and 
she  took  especial  pains  not  to  remind  them  of  her  presence. 

"How  do  you  mean,  papa?"  asked  Edith. 

"  I  think  it  is  a  remarkable  coincidence,  if  nothing  more. 
I  had  a  letter  the  other  day  from  young  Bronson,  stating 
that  Neal  owed  him  fifty  dollars.  The  same  night  I  had 


•Oil,  I    DON'T    KNOW    WHAT    HE    SAID,  AND    I'VE    TOLD    YOU    TEN    HUNDRE 

937 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


another  letter  from  him,  saying  that  IIP  had  received  a 
money-order  from  Neal  for  the  amount.  We  questioned 
Neal,  and  lie  would  give  no  satisfactory  answer  as  to 
where  he  got  the  money.  The  postmaster  tells  me  that 
Neal  paid  for  his  money -order  in  gold.  Aunt  Uelse\'s 
present  to  Janet  is  missing;  we  all  know  that  Aunt  Betsey 
always  sends  gold.  The  postmaster  seems  to  think  that  a 
package  may  have  come  through  the  office  to  us,  though 
In-  is  not  absolutely  certain  of  it.  What  more  natural 
thau  to  suppose  that  the  gold  Neal  had  was  meant  for 
Janet  ?  He  may  have  called  for  the  mail  that  day,  recog- 
nized the  package  from  Aunt  Betsey,  and  the  temptation 
was  too  much  for  him." 

"Oh,  papa!"  cried  Edith,  much  shocked,  "I  can't  be- 
lieve that  Neal  would  do  a  thing  like  that." 

"1  can't  either,"  said  her  father,  cutting  the  air  with 
his  whip  in  his  impatience,  and  making  his  horse  prance 
madly — ''I  can't  either,  and  I  am  sure  I  don't  want  to! 
Let  us  forget  that  I  said  it,  Edith.  Don't  think  of  it  again, 
and  on  no  account  repeat  what  I  said.  The  idea  came  into 
my  head,  and  I  spoke  without  thinking.  I  wouldn't  have 
Hester  know  it  for  the  world.  But  it  is  strange,  isn't  it, 
that  Neal  paid  gold  for  his  money-order.  Where  did  he 
get  it  .'" 

"It  is  strange, papa,  but  indeed  I  think  Neal  is  honest. 
I  am  sure — oh,  I  am  very  sure — that  it  couldn't  have  been 
Janet's." 

"  Then  where  did  he  get  it  ?"  repeated  Mr.  Franklin,  with 
another  cut  of  his  whip. 

"Perhaps  Mrs.  Franklin  gave  it,  to  him." 

"Of  course  she  didn't,"  exclaimed  her  father,  with  irri- 
tation, "and  I  wish  you  would  oblige  me,  Edith,  by  not 
tailing  my  wile  '  Mrs.  Franklin.'  If  you  do  not  choo.se  to 
speak  of  her  as  the,  rest  of  my  children  do,  you  can  at 
least  call  her  '  Hester.'  You  annoy  me  beyond  measure." 

Edith  turned  very  white  as  she  said:  '•  I  am  sorry,  papa. 
Then  I  will  call  her  nothing.  I  can't  possibly  say  'mamma1 
to  her,  and  I  don't  feel  like  speaking  to  her  by  her  first 
name," 

"  What  nonsense  is  all  this!"  said  Mr.  Franklin.  "I  am 
thoroughly  disappointed  in  you.  Edilh." 

"I  don't  know  why  you  should  be.  papa.  I  have  no- 
thing to  do  with  it.  If  the  Gordons  had  not  come  hen-  this 
would  never  have  happened.  The  money  would  not  be 
missing,  you  wouldn't  have  had  the  letters  from  Tony 
Bronsou,  and  I — oh,  I  would  have  been  so  much  happier!" 

"If  you  are  not  happy,  it  is  entirely  your  own  fault," 
«aid  her  father,  sternly.  "Now  let  me  hear  no  more  of 
Iheiie  absurd  notions  of  yours.  1  have  too  much  to  think 
of  that  is  of  more  importance." 

Edith  wanted  to  cry,  but  she  controlled  herself.  She 
was  to  drive  with  her  father  over  to  Upper  Falls,  where 
he  had  to  attend  to  some  business,  and  now  she  had  made 
him  seriously  augry,  she  knew.  She  swallowed  the  lumps 
that  rose  in  her  throat,  and  presently  she  managed  to 
speak  on  some  iuclitt'erent  subject ;  but  her  father  made  no 
reply,  and  they  soon  turned  in  at  Oakleigh  gates.  Janet, 
tin-  small,  quirt  persou  on  the  back  seat,  could  scarcely 
wait  to  get  home.  She  must  tind  Neal  at  once. 

But  Neal  was  not  easily  to  be  found.  She  trotted  up  to 
his  room,  but  he  was  not.  there.  She  went  to  the  cellar 
stairs  and  called,  but  Neal  had  neglected  his  duties  of  late  as 
partner  in  the  poultry  business  ;  in  fact,  he  had  retired  al- 
together, ami  the  eggs  reposed  there  alone.  Janet  was  not 
allowed  to  descend  the  stairs  because  of  her  misdemeanors 
last  year. 

She  went,  to  the  workshop,  but  all  was  quiet.  Look- 
ing out  from  the  upper  window,  however,  she  spied  l!ob 
in  the  pasture;  perhaps  Neal  was  with  him.  She  went 
down  and  unfastened  the  big  gate  that  opened  iuto  the 
barn-yard. 

Country  child  though  she  was,  Jauet  was  sorely  afraid 
of  venturing  through  the  barn -yard  alone.  Were  there 
any  pigs  there?  Yes,  there  were  a  great  many.  Jauet 
detested  pigs,  ugly -looking  creatures!  And  there  were 
some  cows  also,  and  she  had  on  her  red  .jacket.  She 
promptly  laid  it  aside  and  made  a  bold  rush  through  the 
yard. 


On  the  whole,  she  rather  enjoyed  the  excitement.  She 
was  alone,  for  Willy  had  gone  to  Boston  with  her  mother, 
and  Cynthia  and  Jack  were  at  school.  Janet,  felt  herself 
enjoying  an  unlooked-for  holiday  owing  to  the  illness  of 
her  teacher,  and  she  was  about  to  fulfil  the  proverb  which 
tells  of  the  occupation  that  is  found  for  idle  hands  to  do, 
though  in  this  case  it  was  an  idle  tongue. 

The  dangers  of  the  barn-yard  overcome,  Jauet  pursued 
her  way  along  the  cart-road  that  led  to  the  far  meadow, 
and  there,  sitting  on  a  rock  near  the  river,  she  found  the 
object  of  her  search.  He  was  whittling  a  boat  while  he 
pondered  moodily  about  his  affairs. 

"Neal,  Neal !" she  called,  breathless  from  excitement  and 
haste,  "I  want  to  speak  to  you.  What  have  you  done  with 
my  present?" 

"Where  did  you  come  from,  you  small  imp?"  said  Neal, 
with  lazy  good-nature.  Preoccupied  though  he  was,  he 
was  fond  of  children,  and  particularly  of  mischief-loving 
Janet,  and  lie  was  not  sorry  to  have  his  solitude  relieved 
by  her  coming. 

"Where's  my  present  ?"  repeated  Janet;  "I  want  it 
dreadful  bad." 

"  Your  present !  What  do  you  mean,  young  one?  You 
don't  suppose  for  an  instant  that  I'm  making  this  boat  for 
yon,  do  you  ?" 

"Boat!"  cried  Janet,  disdainfully  ;  "I  don't  want  any 
old  boat;  I  want  Aunt  Betsey's  present." 

"I  suppose  you  do.  I  would  myself  if  I  were  so  lucky 
as  to  own  an  Aunt  Betsey.  But  I'm  afraid  1  can't  help  you 
in  that  line,  my  child." 

"Yes, you  can,"  said  Janet,  tugging  at  his  elbow;  ''you 
can  too.  You've  got  it.  Papa  said  so." 

"Got  what?" 

"Aunt  Betsey's  present.  lie  and  the  postmaster  man 
said  you  took  it." 

"Said  I  took  it?" 

••Yes.  Come,  Neal,  give  it  to  me.  I  don't  want  the 
gold  dollars — you  can  have  those — but  I'd  like  the  funny 
thing  she  sent  with  them.  Aunt  Betsey  allus  sends  funny 
things.  Come  along,  Neal.  Give  it  to  me." 

"  Did  your  father  say  I  took  that  money  ?" 

"Yes,  he  did.  Didn't  I  say  so  lots  of  times  ?  Edith  said 
yon  didn't,  and  papa  said  you  did.  What's  the  matter 
with  your  face?  It  looks  awful  funny." 

"Never  mind  what  it  looks  like.  Tell  me  what  your 
father  said." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  what  he  said,  and  I've  told  you  ten 
hundred  times.  Don't  hold  my  arm  so  tight;  it  hurts. 
Let  me  go.  Neal." 

"I  won't,  till  you  tell  me  what  he  said." 

"  I'll  never  tell  unless  you  let  go.  I'll  scream,  and  peo- 
ple '11  know  you're  killing  me  dead,  aud  then  you'll  get 
punished." 

She  opened  wide  her  mouth  and  gave  a  long,  piercing 
shriek. 

"Oh,  hush  up!''  exclaimed  Neal,  roughly;  "if  I  let  go 
will  you  tell  me?" 

"Ws,  if  you'll  give  me  that  boat.  I  think  I'd  like  it, 
after  all." 

Neal  released  her  and  thrust  the  boat  into  her  hand. 

"Now  what?"  he  said. 

"Oh,  nothing  much,  except,  papa  came  out  of  the  post- 
office  aud  told  Edith  the  postmaster  man  said  maybe  you'd 
taken  Aunt  Betsey's  package,  'cause  you  gave  him  some 
gold  dollars.  Aud  papa  said  it  must  have  been  my  pres- 
ent,'cause  you  couldn't  get  gold  dollars  any  other  way.  no- 
how, and  papa  was  mad,  I  guess. 'cause  his  face  looked  the 
way  it  does  when  some  of  us  chillens  is  naughty,  with  his 
mouth  all  shut  up  tight.  There,  that's  all.  Now,  Neal, 
give  me  the  thing  Aunt  Betsey  sent." 

"  1  haven't  got  it  aud  I  never  had  it.  And  now  good-by 
to  you,  every  oue  of  you,  forever!  Do  you  hear?  Forever! 
I'm  not  going  to  stay  another  minute  in  a  place  where  I'm 
insulted." 

He  strode  away,  and  Janet,  frightened  at  she  knew  not 

what,  sat  down  on   a  rock  aud  begau  to  cry.     How  very 

queer  Neal  was.  and  how  queer  his  face  looked!     She  \\on- 

•  dered  what  he   was  going  to  do.     Perhaps  he   was  going 


938 


II AIDER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


<li)\vn  to  the  cellar  to  smash  all  the  eggs,  lie  looked  that 
way. 

Sin1,  sat  there  awhile,  hut  it  was  cool  without  the  red 
jacket,  left  on  the  other  side,  of  the  barn-yard  — for  although 
it  was  spring  according  to  the  almanac,  there  was  still  a 
sharpness  iu  the  air — anil  very  soi.n  she  too  went  towards 
home.  She  had  not  found  Aunt  Betsey's  present .  al'i  rr  all. 
and  she  had  nothing  to  repay  her  for  her  .si-arch  hut  a  half- 
made  wooden  boat  and  an  aching  arm. 

And  there  wen-  thoxe  pi^s,  still  at  large.  She  got 
through  safely,  but  left  the  gate  open,  theivl,\  allowing 
the  animals  to  escape,  and  incurring  the  wrath  of  the. 
farmer. 

When  she  reached  the  house  Xc-al  was  mil  to  be.  found. 
There  was  no  one  at.  home,  for  Edith  and  her  father  had 
driven  over  to  I'pper  Falls  on  business,  alter  leaving  Janet 
at  the  door.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  go  out  and 
tease  the  good-natured  kitchen-maid  into  giving  her  a 
huge  slice  of  bread  and  butter  and  sugar.  Mary  Ann  and 
Martha,  the  old  servants,  would  never  do  it,  but  the  youth- 
ful Amanda  was  more  lenient. 

"Where's  Neal, 'Manila  ?''  asked  Janet,  as  she  munched 
the  delicious  portion  which  was  placed  before  her.  They 
were  in,  the  pantry,  beyond  the  sight  of  the  other 
maids. 

"I  don't  know.  He  came,  a-stalkin'  past  the  kitching 
windies  a  little  while  ago,  an'  I  heard  him  run  up  stairs 
an'  down  like  a  house  a-tire,  an'  out  the.  front  door  with  a 
bang." 

"(iness  he's  excited,"  murmured  Janet,  with  her  mouth 
full  ;  "  guess  that  must  be  it.  He's  gone  oil'  mad.  We  had 
a  light  out  in  the  pasture." 

"La,  child!      What  do  you  mean  f" 

"Oh,  I'm  not  going  to  say  any  more,  Yept  me  and  Neal, 
we  tit  a  light  in  the  pasture.  I  inado  him  awful  mail," 
with  another  huge  bite. 

"  La,  child,  you  do  beat  everything!  Hut  there's  Mary 
Ann  calling  me.  Don't  you  take  a  bit  more  sugar.  Now 
mind  !'' 

But  Janet,  left  to  herself  iu  the  pantry,  made  a  tine  re- 
past . 

The  family  came  home  to  dinner,  with  the  exception  of 
Mr.  Franklin  and  Edith,  and  although  Xeal's  absence  was 
commented  upon,  no  one  thought  anything  of  it.  lie  fre- 
quently went  (iff  for  a  long  day  alone  on  the  river. 

When  the.  meal  was  nearly  over  and  dessert  had  been 
placed  upon  the  table,  Janet  thought  that  she  would  an- 
nounce what  had  taken  place.  She  felt  quite  important  a.t 
being  the  cause  of  Neal's  disappearance. 

"Guess  Neal's  awful  mad  with  me,''  she  said,  suddenly. 
No  one  paid  much  attention.  She  would  try  again. 
"Guess  Neal's  awful  mad  with  me  'bout  what  I  said  'bout 
Aunt  Betsey's  present." 

"  What  did  you  say  about  it?"  asked  Jack,  who  sat  next 
to  her.  There  was  a  lull  in  the  conversation,  and  every 
one  heard  her  reply. 

"Oh,  I  told  him  to  give  it  to  me.  I  said  papa  said  he 
took  it,  and  he  could  have  the  gold  dollars,  but  I  wanted 
the  funny  thing.  Why,  maybe  it  was  a  doll  or  a.  purse  or 
some  other  nice  thing.  Course  I  wauted  it.  My,  though, 
Neal  was  mad  !" 

"What  did  you  tell  him,  Janet?"  asked  Mrs.  Franklin, 
in  much  astonishment;  "that  your  father  said  Neal  had 
taken  your  present"  When  did  he  say  so,  and  what  do 
you  mean  ?" 

••  Goody,  mamma,  you're  asking  'most  as  many  questions 
as  Neal  did.  Guess  you're  excited,  like  he  was.  I  told 
him  papa  said  he'd  taken  my  present  from  Aunt  Betsey. 
The  postmaster  man  said  so  this  morning.  And  Neal  look- 
ed awful  queer  when  I  told  him,  and  he  hnrted  iny  arm, 
awful  bail.  And  then  he  went  oft' and  left  me." 

Mrs.  Franklin  became  very  white.  "I  think  yon  will 
have  to  excuse  me,  children.  I — I  do  not  feel  very  well. 
I  will  go  lie  down.  Jack,  your  arm,  please." 

Jack  sprang  to  help  her,  and  led  her  from  the  room. 
Cynthia  only  waited  to  scold  Janet  for  her  idle  chatter, 
and  then  followed. 

"But  it's  true,  Cynthia,"  her  small  sister  called  after  her. 


"It's  true,  and  you're  real  mean  losayit  isn't.     You  just 
ask  Edith." 

When  Mr.  Franklin  returned  and  learned  that  his  hastily 
uttered  words  of  the  morning  had  been  repeated  to  his  u  it',- 
and  lo  Neal, lie  was  distressed  beyond  measure.  ••  My  dear, 
I  never  meant  it, ''he  said.  "  Hester,  you  must  know  thai. 
1  could  not  really  believe  that  Neal  would  do  such  a  thing. 
li  was  impossible  to  help  remarking  upon  the  singular  co 
inciilencc.  I  never  thought  the  child  would  hear  me.  What 
shall  I  ilo  with  her  .'  She  ought  not  to  have  repeated  what 
I  said." 

"  Do  nothing,  John.  Janet  is  nol  to  Manic-:  naturally  a. 
child  of  her  age  would  net  it  wrong.  I'.ul  oh,  [  a  in  rc-hc-M-d 
to  lind  you  did  not  re-ally  think  it!  It  gave  me  such  a 
shock  to  hear  that  yon  thought  him  capable  of  such  an  ac- 
tion." 

"Where  is  the  hoy?     I  want  to  tell  him  myself." 

But  Neal  could  not  be  found.  Cynthia  and  Jack  hunted 
over  the  place,  looking  for  him  in  all  his  haunts.  He  was 
not  on  the  river,  for  his  canoe  was  iu  its  place.  He  had  not 
'4"iie  to  the  village,  for  no  horse  was  out,  and  whether  In- 
had  walked  or  driven,  his  sister  would  have  met  him  when 
she  returned  from  Boston.  He  could  not  have  gone  for  a 
walk,  for  Bob  had  been  left  at  home,  and  Neal  never  walked 
wit  hout  Bob. 

A  horrible  foreboding  seized  Cynthia.  What  if  Xeal  had 
run  away?  But  no;  surely  he  would  never  do  such  a  thing. 
The  idea  of  her  even  thinking  of  it,  when  sxich  a  course 
would  only  make  people  believe  that  he  had  really  taken 
the  money.  Cynthia  scolded  herself  severely  for  having 
allowed  the  supposition  to  come  into  her  mind.  But  where 
was  he?  Asa  last  resource  she  called  Jauet  to  her  and 
again  questioned  the  child  closely.  They  were  standing 
on  the  drive  in  front  of  the  house. 

"  What  did  Neal  say  to  you,  Janet,  when  he  went  off?" 

"<>h,  he  was  awful  mad,  I  told  yon,  Cynthia.  He  was 
just  mad." 

"  But  did  he  say  anything  .'" 

"  Oh  yes,  lots.     But  I  forget  what." 

"  Can't  yon  remember  anything,  Jauet  ?  Not  one  word  ? 
Did  he  say  where  he  was  going?" 

"No-o,"  drawled  Jauet,  "he  just  said —  My,  Cynthia, 
look  at  that  bluebird!  It's  a  real  bluebird, snre's  you're 
alive.  Wish  I  could  catch  him." 

"But,  Jauet,  never  mind  the  bird.  What  did  Xeal 
saj  .'" 

"  Oh,  he  said  good  -  by  and  he  was  going.  Cynthia,  I 
h'lieve  if  I  had  some  salt  to  put  on  that  bird's  tail  I  could 
catch  him.  Mayn't  I,  Cynthia?  Mayn't  I  get  some  salt 
and  put  it  on  his  tail  ?'' 

"  No,  you  can't !"  cried  Cynthia,  stamping  her  foot.  "I 
do  wish  you  would  tell  me  all  Xeal  said." 

"There,  now, you're  in  an  angry  passion,"  observed  her 
small  sister, gazing  at  her  calmly  ;  "you've  let  your  angry 
passions  rise.  You  frightened  that  bird  away,  a-staiupin" 
of  your  foot  that  way.  Aren't  you  "shamed!" 

"Oh,  Jauet,  never  mind.  Please  tell  me.  Did  he  really 
say  good-hy  ?" 

"Will  you  give  me  your  coral  necklace  if  I  tell  yon  all 
he-  said  ?"  said  Janet,  who  was  ever  prompt  to  seize  an  op- 
portunity. 

"Yes,  yes!     Anything!" 

"  Wc-11,  he  said —  Are  you  sure  you  mean  it,  Cynthia  ?  1 
want  the  coral  necklace  with  the  nice  little  gold  clasp 
and— 

"Yes,  I  know,"  groaned  Cynthia.  "I've  only  got  one 
coral  necklace,  yon  dreadful  child  !  Go  on,  do  go  on  !" 

"My,  Cynthia!  You're  terrible  impatient,  and  I  guess 
your  angry  passions  have  riz  again.  Well,  he  said, '  Cioml- 
by  forever;  I'm  going  away;'  and  off  he  went." 

"  Was  that  all  ?     Truthfully,  Janet?" 

"  Yes,  truthfully  all.  He  said  he  wouldn't  stay  any  longer 
'cause  he  was  salted,  or  something." 

"Salted!" 

"  Yes,  or  'suited,  or  some  word  like  that." 

"  /Hsnlted.  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  guess  so.     And  now  w here's  the  necklace?" 
[TO    HE   CONTINUED.] 


939 


STORIES    OF    AMERICAN    LITERATURE. 


BY  HENRIETTA    CHRISTIAN  WRIGHT. 


HENRY  WADSWORTH  LONGFELLOW 


I  ATE  on  almost  any  summer  day  early  in  this 
century     a     blue -eyed, 
;*:£;>  brown-haired  lad  might 

j^J'R  liave    been    seen    lying 

i\^i*  under  a  great  applc-t  ive 

^-.-Mrfte^T^  ju  the  garden  of  an  old 

house  in  Portland,  for- 
get ful  of  every  tbiug  else 
in  the  world  save  the 
book  he  was  reading. 

The  boy  \v:is  Henry 
Wadsworth  Longfel- 
low, and  the  book 
might  have  been  L'ohiii- 
sun  Crusoe,  The  Ar/iliinn 

\ii/lils,  Dun  <>n<j-ol< ,  nil  of  which  were  favorites  ;  or  possibly 
it  was  Irving's  Sketeli  JlunJc,  of  which  he  was  so  fond  that 
even  the  covers  delighted  him.  and  whose  charm  remained 
unbroken  throughout  life.  Years  afterward,  when,  as  a 
famous  man  of  letters,  he  was  called  upon  to  pay  his  tribute 
to  the  memory  of  Irving,  he  could  think  of  no  more  tender 
praise  than  to  speak  with  grateful  affection  of  the  book 
which  had  so  fascinated  him  as  a  boy,  and  whose  pages 
.slill  led  him  back  into  the  "  haunted  chamber  of  youth." 

It  was  during  Longfellow's  childhood  that  the  British 
ship  Boxer  was  captured  by  the  Enterprise  iu  the  famous 
sea-light  of  the  war  of  1812;  the  two  captains  who  had 
fallen  in  the  battle  were  buried  side  by  side  in  the  ceme- 
tery at  Portland,  and  the  whole  town  came  together  to  do 
honor  to  the  dead  commanders.  Long  years  afterward 
Longfellow  speaks  of  this  incident  in  his  poem  entitled 
"  My  Lost  Youth,"  and  recalls  the  sounds  of  the  cannon 
booming  over  the  waters,  and  the  solemn  stillness  that  fol- 
lowed the  news  of  the  victory. 

It  is  in  this  same  poem  that  we  have  a  picture  of  the 
Portland  of  his  early  life,  and  are  given  glimpses  of  the. 
black  wet  wharves  where  were  the  ships  moored,  and  the 
Spanish  sailors,  "  with  bearded  lips,"  who  seemed  as  much 
a  mystery  to  the  boy  as  the  ships  themselves.  These  came 
and  went  across  the  sea,  always  watched  and  waited  for 
with  greatest  interest  by  the  children  who  loved  the  ex- 
citement of  the  unloading  and  loading,  the  shouts  of  the 
surveyors  who  were  mea- 
suring the  contents  of cask 
and  hogshead,  the  sougs  of 
the  iiegroes  working  the 
pulleys,  the  jolly  good  na- 
ture of  the  seamen  stroll- 
ing through  the  streets, 
and,  above  all,  the  sight 
of  the  strange  treasures 
that  came  from  time  to 
time  into  one  home  or  an- 
other— bits  of  coral,  beau- 
tiful sea-shells,  birds  of  re- 
splendent plumage,  for- 
eign coins,  which  looked 
odd  even  in  Portland, 
where  all  the  money  near- 
ly was  Spanish,  and  the 
hundred  and  one  things 
dear  to  the  hearts  of  sail- 
ors and  children.  It  was 
during  his  school-boy  days 
that  Longfellow  publish- 
ed his  first  bit  of  verse. 
It  was  inspired  by  hearing 
the  story  of  a  famous  tight 
which  took  place  on  the 
shores  of  a  small  lake  call- 
ed LovelPs  Pond,  between 
the  two  Lovells  and  the 
Indians.  Longfellow  was 


deeply  impressed  by  this  story,  and  threw  his  feeling  of 
admiration  into  four  stanzas,  which  he  carried  with  a  beat- 
ing heart  down  to  the  letter-box  of  the  Portland  fiii;itli-, 
taking  an  opportunity  to  slip  the  manuscript  in  when  no 
one  was  looking. 

The  next  morning  Longfellow  watched  his  father  nn- 
folil  the  paper,  read  it  slowly  before  the  fire,  and  finally 
leave  the  room,  when  the  sheet  was  grasped  by  the  boy  and 
his  sister,  who  shared  his  confidence,  and  hastily  scanned. 
The  poem  was  there  in  the  "poets'  corner"  of  the  <ia:ette, 
and  Longfellow  was  so  filled  with  exultant  joy  that  he 
spent  the  greater  part  of  the  remainder  of  the  day  in  read- 
ing and  rereading  the  verses,  becoming  convinced  toward 
evening  that  they  promised  remarkable  merit.  His  happi- 
ness was  dimmed,  however,  a  few  hours  later,  when  the 
father  of  a  boy  friend,  with  whom  he  was  passing  the  even- 
ing, pronounced  the  verses  stiff  and  entirely  lacking  in 
originality.  Longfellow  slipped  away  as  soon  as  possible 
to  nurse  his  wounded  feelings  in  his  own  room,  and  instead 
of  letting  the  incident  discourage  him,  began  with  renewed 
vigor  to  write  veises,  epigrams,  essays,  and  tragedies, which 
he  produced  in  a  literary  partnership  with  one  of  his  hoy 
friends.  None  of  these  effusions  had  any  literary  value, 
being  no  better  than  any  boy  of  thirteen  or  fourteen  would 
produce  if  he  turned  his  attention  to  literature  instead  of 
to  bat  and  ball. 

Longfellow  remained  in  Portland  until  his  sixteenth 
year,  when  he  went  to  Bowdoin  College,  entering  the  Soph- 
omore Class.  Here  he  remained  for  three  years,  gradually 
coining  a  name  for  scholarship  and  character  that  was 
second  to  none.  However  much  he  enjoyed  college  sports 
and  fun,  he  never  distinguished  himself  iu  any  act  that 
called  for  even  the  mildest  censure  from  the  college  au- 
thorities. The  love  of  order,  the  instinct  of  obedience  to 
proper  authority,  and  his  naturally  quiet  tastes  kept  him 
from  any  transgression  of  the  rules  that  seemed  irksome  to 
those  of  more  excitable  natures  ami  less  carefully  trained. 
Through  his  entire  college  career  Longfellow  kept  the  re- 
spect and  affection  of  many  of  the  students  whose  natural 
tendencies  led  them  often  into  mischief,  but  who  none  the 
less  highly  esteemed  the  graver  qualities  of  their  friend. 

Immediately  after   his   graduation    he   was   ottered   the 


THE    SPANISH    SAILORS    WITH    liEARDED    LH'S. 
040 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


chair  of  modern  lan- 
guages in  Uowdoin, 
w  n  h  iiermission  from 
the  college  authori- 
ties to  visit  Em"|h 
for  the  purpose  of  fit- 
ting himself  for  his 
new  duties.  Accord- 
ingly at  the  age  of 
nineteen  Longfellmv 
sailed  for  France,  vis- 
iting also  Spain, 
Italy,  and  Germany, 
meeting  with  adven- 
ture everywhere,  ami 
storing  up  memory 
after  memory  that 
came  hack  in  afler- 
ye.-irs  tn  serve  some 
purpose  of  his  art. 
We  have  thus  pre- 
served in  his  works 
the  impressions  that 
Europe  then  made 
upoii  a  young  Amer- 
ican who  had  come 
there  to  supplement 
his  education  by 
studying  at  the  uni- 
versities, and  whose 

mind  was  alive  to  all  the  culture  denied  it  in  his  own 
land.  The  grandeur  of  the  world  of  antique  art  pre- 
served in  the  museums,  the  works  of  living  artists 
whose  names  were  famous,  the  magnificence  of  the  cathe- 
drals and  palaces,  the  thousand  memories  clustered  around 
the  old  historic  towns  and  cities,  the  picturesque  details  of 
peasant  life,  the  gay  student  life  which  was  so  unlike  that 
of  the  American  youth  that  it  seemed  a  different  world,  all 
struck  Longfellow  with  a  new  and  pleasant  feeling  of  rich- 
ness, as  if  the  world  had  suddenly  become  wider,  and  full 
of  stores  of  unsuspected  wealth.  One  of  Longfellow's  great 
pleasures  while  on  this  trip  was  the  meeting  with  Irving 
in  Spain,  where  the  latter  was  busy  with  his  Life  of  Co- 
lutiibus. 

The  vividness  of  his   impressions  of  European  life  was 
SITU  upon  all  hi*  work,  anil  was  perhaps  the  first  reflection 

of  the  old  poetic 
European  influ- 
ence that  began 
to  be  felt  in  much 
American  poetry, 
where  the  charm 
of  old  peasant 
love  songs  and 
rnnndclays,  heard 
for  centuries 

among  the  lower 
classes  of  Spain, 
France,  and  Italy, 
was  wrought  into 
translation  and 
transcription  so 
perfect  and  spirit- 
ed that  they  may 
almost  rank  with 
original  work. 

Longfellow  re- 
turned to  Ann1!  iea 
after  three  years' 
absence,  and  at 
once  began  his 
duties  at  Bowdoiu 
College,  remaining 
three  \ears.  when 
he  left  to  take  a 
Professorship  at 
Harvard,  which  he 
HIS  FIRST  POEM.  liacl  accepted  with 


LONGFELLOW'S    HOME    AT    CAMBRIDGE. 


It 


the  understanding  that  he  was  to  spend  a  year  and  a  half 
abroad  before  commencing  his  work.  Two  years  after  his 
return  he  published  his  first  vol  nine  of  poems,  and  his  ro- 
mance Hyperion.  In  Hyperion,  Longfellow  relates  some 
of  the  experiences  of  his  own  travels  under  tin-  guise  of 
the  hero,  who  wanders  through  Europe,  and  the  book  is 
full  of  the  same  biographical  charm  that  belongs  to  lliitrr 
Her.  Here  the  student  life  of  the  German  youths.the  songs 
they  sang,  the  books  they  read,  and  even  their  favorite 
foods  are  noted,  while  the  many  translations  of  German 
poetry  opened  a  new  field  of  delight  to  American  readers. 
It  was  well  received  by  the  public,  who  appreciated  its  line 
poetic  fancy  and  its  wealth  of  serious  thought,  lint  it  was 
not,  by  his  prose  that  Longfellow  touched  the  deepest  sym- 
pathies of  his  readers,  and  the  publication  of  his  Ihst  vol- 
ume of  poetry  a  few  months  later  showed  his  real  position 
in  the  world  of  American  letters  This  little  book,  \\hich 
was  issued  under  the  title  I'niee*  nt'  tin  .\i;//it.  consisted  of 
the  poems  that  had  so  far  appeared  in  the  various  maga- 
zines and  papers,  a  few  poems  written  in  his  college  days, 
and  some  translations  from  the  French,  German,  and  Span- 
ish ports.  In  this  volume  occurs  some  of  Longfellow's 
choicest  work,  the  gem  of  the  book  being  the  celebrated 
••  I'-alm  of  Life." 

It  is  from  this  point  that  Longfellow  goes  onward,  al- 
ways as  the  favorite  poet  of  the  American  people.  The 
"Psalm  of  Life  "  had  been  published  previously  in  a  maga- 
zine without  the  author's  name,  and  it  had  no  sooner  1>< •< -n 
read  than  it  seemed  to  find  its  wa\  into  everj  heart  Min- 
isters read  it  to  their  congregations  all  over  the  country , 
and  it  was  sung  as  a  hymn  in  main  elmreli.-s.  It  was 
copied  in  almost  every  newspaper  in  the  I'niied  States,  it 
was  recited  by  every  school-child,  and  years  afterwards  one 
of  America's  greatest  men  said  that  in  one  of  the  darkest 
hours  of  his  life  he  had  been  cheered  and  uplifted  l.\  its 
noble,  spirit.  To  young  and  old  alike  it  brought  its  mes- 
sage,'and  its  voice  was  recognized  as  that  of  a  tine  le:nh  i 
The  author  of  Outre  .!/«•  and  Hiiprrion  had  well  touched 
hands  with  millions  of  his  brothers  and  sisters,  and  the 
clasp  was  never  unloosed  while  he  lived. 

In  the  same  collection  occurs  "  The,  Footsteps  of  Ani;i  Is," 
another  well-beloved  poem,  and  one  in  which  the  spirit  of 
home  life  is  made  the  inspiration. 

Longfellow's  poems  now  followed  one  another  in  rapid 
succession,  appealing  generally  at  tirst  in  some  magazine, 
and  afterward  in  book  form  in  various  collections  under 
different  titles. 

His  greatest  contributions  to  American  literature  arc  his 

941 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"  Evaugeline"  ami  ••  Hiawatha,"  and  a  score  of  shorter 
poems,  which  iii  themsehes  would  give  the  author  a  high 
place  in  any  literature. 

In  "  Evangeline  "  Longfellow  took  for  his  theme  the  story 
of  tin-  destruction  of  the  Acadian  villages  ill  Nova  Scotia 
by  the  English  during  the  French  and  Indian  war.  Long- 
fellow lias  made  of  tliis  sad  story  a  wondroiisly  beautiful 
tale  that  reads  like  an  old  legend  of  Grecian  Arcadia. 

The  description  of  the  great  primeval  forests  stretching 
down  to  the  sea:  of  the  villages  and  farms  scattered  over 
the  land  as  unprotected  as  the  nests  uf  the  meadow-lark; 
of  the  sowing  and  harvesting  of  the  peasant  folks,  with 
their  fetes  and  chnrch-going.  their  weddings  and  festivals ; 
and  the  pathetic  search  of  Evangeliue  for  her  lost-  lover 
Gabriel  among  the  plains  of  Louisiana — all  show  Longfel- 
low in  his  finest  mood  as  a  poet  whom  the  sorrows  of  man- 
kind touched  always  with  reverent  pity,  as  well  as  a  writer 
of  noble  verse. 

Everywhere  that  the  English  language  is  read,  "Evange- 
liue" has  passed  as  the  most  beautiful  folk-story  that  Amer- 
ica has  produced  :  and  the  French  Canadians,  the  far-away 
brothers  of  the  Acadians.  have  included  Longfellow  among 
their  national  poets.  Among  them"  Evangeline"  is  known 
by  heart,  and  the  eases  are  not  rare  where  the  people  have 
learned  English  expressly  for  the  purpose  of  reading  Long- 
fellow's poem  in  the  original,  a  wonderful  tribute  to  the 
poet  who  could  thus  touch  to  music  one  of  the  saddest 
memories  of  their  rare. 

In  "  Hiawatha"  Longfellow  gave  to  the  Indian  the  place 
in  poetry  that  had  been  given  him  by  Cooper  in  prose. 

"Hiawatha"  is  a  poem  of  the  forests  and  of  the  dark- 
skinned  race  who  dwelt  therein,  who  were  learned  only 
in  forest-lore,  and  lived  as  near  to  nature's  heart  as  the 
fanns  and  satyrs  of  old.  Into  this  legend  Longfellow  has 
put  all  the  poetry  of  the  Indians'  nature,  and  has  made  his 
hero,  Hiawatha,  a  noble  creation,  that  compares  favorably 
with  the  King  Arthur  of  the.  old  British  romances.  From 
first  to  last  Hiawatha  moves  among  the  people  a  real 
leader,  showing  them  how  to  clear  their  forests,  to  plant 
grain,  to  make  for  themselves  clothing  of  embroidered  and 
painted  skins,  to  improve  their  fishing-grounds,  and  to 
live  at  peace  with  their  neighbors.  From  the  time  when 
he  was  a  little  child,  and  his  grandmother  told  him  all  the. 
fairy-tales  of  nature,  up  to  the  day  when,  like  Arthur,  he 
passed  mysteriously  through  the  gates  of  the  sunset,  all 
his  hope  anil  joy  and  work  were  for  his  people.  He  is  a 
creature  that  could  only  have  been  born  from  a  mind  as 
pure  and  poetic  as  that  of  Longfellow.  All  the  scenes  and 
images  of  the  poem  are  so  true  to  nature  that  they  seem 
liUe  very  breaths  from  the  forests.  \Ve  move  with  Hia- 
watha through  the  dewy  birchen  aisles,  learn  with  him  the 
language  of  the.  nimble  squirrel  and  of  the  wise  beaver  and 
mighty  hear,  watch  him  build  his  famous  canoe,  and  spend 
hours  with  him  fishing  in  the  waters  of  the  great  inland 
sea,  bordered  by  the  great  pictured  rocks  painted  by  nature 
itself.  Longfellow's  first  idea,  of  the  poem  was  suggested, 
it  is  said,  by  his  hearing  a  Harvard  student  recite  some 
Indian  talcs.  Searching  among  the  various  hooks  that 
treated  of  the  American  Indians.be  found  many  legends 
and  incidents  th:il  preserved  fairly  well  the  traditional 
history  of  the  Indian  race,  and  grouping  these  around  one 
central  figure,  and  tilling  in  the  gaps  with  poetic  descrip- 
tions of  the  forests,  mountains,  lakes,  rivers,  and  plains 
which  ruade  up  the  abode  of  these  picturesque  people,  he 
thus  built  up  the  entire  poem.  The  metre  used  is  that  in 
'which  the  "KalevalaTheau,"  the  national  epic  of  the  Finn, 
is  written,  and  the  Finnish  hero  Wainamoinen,  in  his  gift 
of  song  and  his  brave  adventures,  is  not  unlike  the  great 
Hiawatha. 

Among  Longfellow's  other  long  poems  are  ".The  Spanish 
student. "a.  dramatic  poem  founded  upon  a  Spanish  ro- 
mance :  "The  Divine  Tragedy  "and  "The  Golden  Legend," 
founded  upon  the  life,  of  Christ ;  "The  Courtship  of  Miles 
Standish."  a  tale  of  puritan  love-making  in  the  time  of  the 
early  settlers;  and  "Tales  of  a  Wayside  Inn,"  which  are  a 
series  of  poems  of  adventure  supposed  to  he  related  by  the 
guests  at  an  inn. 

But  it   is  with  such   poeins  as  "  Evaugeliue"  and  "  Hia- 


watha, "and  the  shorter  famous  poems  like  the  "Psalm  of 
Life,"  "  F.xcelsior."  "The  Wreck  of  the  _//<*/» 'nix."  "The 
Building  of  the  Ship,"  "The  Footsteps  of  Angels,"  that  his 
claim  as  the  favorite  poet  of  America  has  its  founda- 
tion. "  The  Building  of  the  Ship  "  was  never  read 
dm  ing  the  struggle  of  the  civil  war  without  raising  the 
audience  to  a  passion  of  enthusiasm  ;  and  so  in  each  of  these 
shorter  poems  Longfellow  touched  with  wondrous  sym- 
pathy the  hearts  of  his  readers.  Throughout  the  land  he 
was  received  as  the  poet  of  the  home  and  heart  :  the  sweet 
singer  to  whom  the  fireside  and  family  gave  ever  sacred 
and  beautiful  meanings. 

Some  poems  on  slavery,  a  prose  tale  called  "  Kavanajh." 
and  a  translation  of  the  "  Divine  Comedy  "  of  Dante,  must 
also  be  included  among  Longfellow's  work  ;  but  these  have 
never  reached  the  success  attained  by  bis  more  popular 
poems,  which  are  known  by  heart  by  millions. 

Longfellow  died  in  Cam  bridge  in  1882,  in  the  same  month 
in  viliich  was  written  his  last  poem, "The  Bells  of  San 
Bias,"  which  concludes  with  these  words, 

"It  is  daybreak  everywhere." 


H 


JOHN    CABOT. 

ICKETV.  pickety,  John  Cabot 


Longed    to  discover  a   brand-new  spot. 
He  found  Cape   Breton,  and.  well  content. 
As  fast  as  the   billows  would  take  him,  he  went 
Back  to  his   home  with   a   \ery  high   head, 
And  unto   King  Henry  the  Seventh   he  said, 
"1   have   found   China,  that  empire  old. 
Give  me   a  garment  all  trimmed  with  gold." 
Hickcty,  pickety,  John  Cabot, 
Garments   and   titles   and  honors  he   got. 
And  he   said  to  his  barber  one  summer  day, 
"I  have    an   island  to  give  away. 
An  island   in   China,  a  very  nice  spot. 
I  hope  you   will  like  it,"  quoth  John   Cabot. 
Hickety,  pickety,  bless  my  heart, 
To  o\\n   an   island  is  very  smart. 
"To  own  an  island  is  great  indeed," 
The  barber  he  said,  "and  a  title  I'll  need. 
And  I'll  wear  a  mantle   all  trimmed  with  lace, 
And  never  again  will  I  shave  a  face." 
But  alas   for  the  barber,  and  poor  John  too, 
Their  titles   and   honors  and  airs  fell  through. 
It  was  only  a  corner  of  Canada,  not 
The  Chinese  Empire  which  John  Cabot 
Had  found  in   1497 

And  unto  his  barber  so  freely  had  given. 
So  then  this  poor   barber  of  John  Cabot 
Back  to  his  shaving  went  trit-ty-te-tmt, 
Both  of  his  island  and  title  bereft, 
Lucky  indeed  that  his  razor  was  left. 
But  hickety,  pickety,  John   Cabot 
b'eally  discovered  a  brand-new  spot. 


w 


THE  KACING  YACHT  OF  TO-DAY. 

BY   L.  A.  TEKEBEL. 
HEN   the   Anterifti's  Cup  was   first   contested   for,  a 


good  many  years  ago, the  boats  that  competed  for  it, 
were  out-and-out  yachts — pleasure  craft  that  could  be  of 
service  to  their  owners  for  other  purposes  besides  cup- 
hunting  and  cup-defending.  But,  the  craft  that  we  see 
taking  part  in  the  international  races  nowadays  are  no- 
thing more  nor  less  than  racing-machines.  These  are  built 
solely  to  take  part  in  the  struggle  with  the  Britisher,  just 
us  the  Britisher  is  built  solely  to  sail  against  the  fastest 
Yankee;  and  after  the  cup  contests  are  over  these  $250,000 
beauties  are  of  no  further  use,  except,  of  course,  to  win 
other  races.  When  I  say  that  they  are  of  no  further  use, 
I  do  not  mean  this  statement  to  he  taken  as  literally  true, 
because  the  boats  can  be  reconstructed  and  remodelled 
for  cruising  purposes,  and  sometimes  are,  but  they  cannot 
he  used  for  anything  but  racing  when  in  the  condition  they 


942 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


.smaller  boat.-,  and  Lord  Dunraven  himself  has  been  re- 
ported as  saying  In-  thought  it  would  be  advisable  to  re- 
strict the  length  of  the  racers  to  seventy-five  feet.  A  few 
years  ago  there  were  110  such  restrictions,  but  when  Puri- 
l/in  was  luiilt  to  meet  Gcnesta  it,  was  uiiitually  decided  by 
the  Englishmen  and  the  Americans  that  the  sloops  should 
not  exceed  ninety  feet  on  the  water-line. 

But   the   builders  have,  to  a  certain  extent  neutralized 
this  rule  by  giving  their  yachts  such  an  overhang  fore  and 


.  rapid- 
ly. Following  this  natural  phenomenon,  the  keel  of  !><•- 
fenili'i-  is  bulging  at  the  bow  and  tapering  at  the  stern. 

Just  as  the  size  and  position  of  c\cry  stone  in  a  lari;e 
building  are  figured  out  before  the  work  is  liegun.  so  was 
every  part  of  Difi •nilir  design •<!  and  laid  out  in  the  mould 
loft  at  Bristol  long  before  Ilie  net  mil  work  of  construction 
could  commence.  The  mould  loft  is  a  very  large  room, 
with  a  spacious  floor  and  plenty  of  light.  On  the  floor 
every  part  of  Defender  was  sketched  out  in  chalk  to  the 


aft  that  they  can  stand  much  more  sail  than  other  sloops  of      actual  size  required.      Every  beam  and  section  was  at 


larger  dimensions.  We  have  probably  reached  the  limit  in 
expense  of  yacht-building  this  year,  however,  and  I  doubt 
if  any  cup  defender  will  ever  be  built  to  cost  more  than  the 
present  one.  A  new  class,  called  half-raters  (restricted  to 
15  feet  racing  length),  is  coming  into  popularity,  and  the 
•Seawanhaka-Corintliia.li  Yacht  Club  is  to  hold  international 
races  of  boats  of  that  kind  next  month.  This  new  class  in 
international  matches  will  doubtless  claim  some  of  the  in- 
terest that  has  been  given  to  the  giant  single-stickers,  and 
in  years  to  come  the  expense  involved  in  the  defense  of  the 
American  Cup  ought  not  to  be  so  excessive. 

But  to  return  to  the  yachts  themselves,  and  to  what  I 
said  about  their  uselessness  as  cruisers.  The  Valkyrie  that 
sailed  against  Defender  on  September  7th  was  not  the  Val- 
kyrie that  crossed  the  ocean  in  August.  The  racer  is  an 
empty  shell,  with  a  towering  mast  and  thousands  of  square 
feet  of  sail,  whereas  the  travelling  Valkyrie  was  the  home 
•of  the  forty  or  forty-five  men  who  constituted  her  crew,  and 
she  was  a  two-masted  craft — with  stubby  masts  at  that. 
As  the  one  aim  of  both  Valkyrie  and  Defender  is  to  attain 
the  highest  possible  speed,  everything  is  done  that  experi- 
ence and  money  can  do  to  make  the  boats  as  light  and  as 
swift-sailing  as  possible.  The  one  thought  of  the  builders 
from  the  moment  they  got  the  orders  to  design  the  yachts 
was  to  make  the  shape  of  each  boat  the  best  to  cut  through 
the  water,  and  the  sails  the  most  efficient  to  catch  every 
breath  of  air  stirring  overhead. 

In  order  that  his  rival  might  not  know  what  kind  of  a  boat 
was  going  to  be  turned  out,  both  the  English  and  the  Ameri- 
can architects  worked  with  the  greatest  secrecy,  and  even 
after  the  boats  had  been  launched  and  seen  by  the  public 
their  true  measurements  were  withheld.  But  enough  is 
known  about  the  construction  of  racing  sloops  in  general, 
and  sufficient  has  leaked  out  about  the  building  of  Defemli  / 
in  particular,  for  us  to  have  a  pretty  good  knowledge  of  the 
boat  that  was  depended  upon  to  keep  the  America's  Cup  on 
this  side  of  the  water. 

About  three  mouths  were  required  for  the  construction 
of  Defender.  She  was  built  at  Bristol,  Rhode  Island.  The 
plans  were  first  fully  discussed  by  the  owners  and  the  archi- 
tect and  his  assistants,  and  were  then  laid  out  on  paper  to 
a  scale,  probably  one  inch  to  the  foot — although  this  would 
make  a  pretty  large  working  plan.  But  still,  the  larger  a 
plan  is  the  better,  and  in  an  important  matter  of  this  kind 
no  pains  arc  spared  to  reach  perfection.  A  model  of  a  yacht 
under  construction  is  unnecessary,  and  is  seldom  made,  ex- 
•cept  for  the  pleasure  or  curiosity  of  the  owner. 

It  was  decided  to  give  up  the  centreboard  this  year — 
much  to  the  disappointment  of  a  great  many  patriotic 
yachtsmen,  for  the  centreboard  is  a  purely  American  insti- 
tution— and  the  plaus  were  consequently  designed  for  a 
keel  boat.  Defender's  keel  is  of  lead,  and  weighs  80  tons. 
It  is -5  feet  6  inches  high,  3  feet  6  inches  wide,  and  :!5  feet 
long  on  top,  and  was  cast  in  the  shop  where  the  yacht 
was  built,  for  such  a  weight  as  that  could  not  very  well 
be  moved  from  one  end  of  a  ship-yard  to  the  other.  A 
•cross  section  of  this  lead  keel  would  look  very  much  like 
the  cross  section  of  a  pear  cut  lengthwise,  with  the  bulge 
at  the  bottom.  Fore  and  aft  it  is  shaped  somewhat  like  a 
whale,  or  a  cat-fish — that  is,  it  is  largest  for \\aid  and  tapers 
toward  the  stern.  This  doubtless  seems  strange  to  a  great 
•many  unobservant  landsmen,  who  know  that  ships  are  nsu- 


rately  laid  down,  and  the  workmen  made  wooden  moulds 
or  patterns  from  these  sketches.  To  these  wooden  moulds 
the  metal  ribs  and  frames  were  afterwards  bent.  This 
work  was  done  on  the  "  bending  table"  by  methods  fully 
described  in  an  article  on  ship-building  published  in  No. 
784  of  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE.  When  the  steel  ribs 
were  satisfactorily  completed,  and  had  been  found  to  be 
exactly  as  designed  in  the  mould  loft,  they  were  taken  into 
the  shed  where  the  yacht  was  being  constructed.  This 
shed,  by-the-way,  was  a  harder  place  to  get  into  than  the 
palace  of  the  Czar.  The  doors  were  kept  locked  all  the 
time,  and  watchmen  were  on  duty  day  and  night  to  drive 
away  intruders.  Only  the  owners,  the  architects,  and  the 
workmen  were  permitted  to  enter. 

The  keel,  which  is  made  of  cast  brass  in  three  sections, 
was  bolted  to  the  lead  with  great  screws  from  six  to  eight 
inches  long,  and  the  ribs  were  riveted  to  the  keel  and 
steadied  across  the  top  with  wooden  cross  spalls  until  the 
deck  beams  were  ready  to  be  put  on.  The  latter  are  of 
aluminium  bronze.  Everything  in  the  make  up  of  the 
yacht  so  far  has  been  metal,  and  everything  will  be  metal 
to  the  end.  Even  the  stern  and  stem  are  brass  castings, 
and  there  is  no  wood  in  the  body  of  Defender,  except  the 
deck,  which  is  of  d!  -inch  light  pine.  The  two  or  three  parti- 
lions  inside  of  her  are  made  of  canvas  stretched  on  light 
pine  frames,  and  the  only  other  wood  on  board  is  in  the 
mast.  Even  the  boom  is  metal — that  is,  since  Viilkiii-ie  came 
over  with  a  steel  boom. 

To  the  ribs  were  riveted  the  plates,  which  are  of  man- 
ganese bronze,  which  is  a  kind  of  refined  brass,  only  three- 
sixteenths  of  an  inch  thick,  and  the  upper  two  streaks  are 
of  aluminium.  This  aluminium  is  said  to  be  almost  pure, 
and  is  the  lightest  metal  known. 

Valkyrie  is  not  such  a  metallic  boat  as  Defender.  She  is 
of  the  composite  type.  Her  stem  and  stern  aie  of  wood, 
and  she  is  planked  on  the  outside  with  American  elm  below 
water  and  spruce  on  top.  This  elui  is  an  excellent  wood  for 
yacht  construction.  It  will  not  decay  if  kept  under  water, 
but  spoils  if  allowed  to  be  wet  and  dry  by  turns.  It  is  n^-d 
a  great  deal  in  England,  and  yet,  strange  as  this  may  seem, 
it  cannot  be  bought  in  the  New  York  lumber  market.  It  is 
scarcely  known  here.  It  comes  from  Canada,  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Quebec,  and  the  whole  supply  is  shipped  to 
England  In  Canada  the  elms  are  grown  in  plantations, 
and  cultivated  so  that  they  are  straighter  and  taller  than 
those  we  have  in  the  United  States.  Here  elm  is  seldom 
used  in  the  construction  of  ships  except  for  knees.  It  is  also 
a  favorite  wood  for  the  hubs  of  wheels.  But  this  elm  is 
the  common  elm,  not  the  American  elm  of  the  English  mar- 
ket, which,  as  I  have  said,  is  hardly  ever  seen  on  this  CIM-I. 

But  although  Valkyrie's  hull  and  stern  are  of  wood,  her 
frames  are  of  nickel  steel  strapped  together  with  steel  rib- 
bons running  at  an  angle.  Thus,  before  her  planking  was 
put  on,  she  must  have  looked  like  a  huge  steel  basket. 

The  masts  of  both  yachts  are  of  Oregon  pine.  And  with 
re uard  to  this  Oregon  pine  another  peculiar  feature  of  tin- 
Atlantic  coast  lumber  market  becomes  apparent.  Ten 
years  ago  Oregon  pine  was  not  known  here.  Ship-builders 
did  not  use  it.  But  the  Britishers  did,  and  all  the  Oregon 
pine  that  could  be  purchased  used  to  be  shipped  to  1  » 
land  in  sailing-vessels  that  went  around  Cape  Horn  from 
Puget  Sound.  When  our  ship-builders  finally  discovered 


U43 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


PRPRNPKIl. 

THE    CHALLENGER    AND    DEFENDER    OF    THE 


"  VALKYRIE.'1 

'AMERICA'S"    CUP    IN    DRY    DOCK. 


that  tliis  pine  was  about  the  best  that  could  be  had  for 
masts  and  spars,  they  tried  to  buy  some,  but  they  foil  ml 
they  had  to  go  to  English  markets  to  get  it.  Within  the 
past  few  years,  however,  more  and  more  Oregon  pine  has 
been  offered  for  sale  on  this  coast,  and  it  is  probable  that 
Dt  fender's  mast  was  not  imported  from  England.  The  first 
boom  of  Defender  was  also  of  Oregon  pine.  This  bootn 

cost  nearly  $2000, 
and  was  Imilt 
like  a  barrel,  or 
rather  like  two 
barrels  —  one  on 
the  outside  of  the 
other.  This  was 
to  give  addition- 
al strength.  The 
inner  boom  was 
hooped  together 
with  steel  bands, 
ami  then  the  out- 
er layer  of  pine 
staves  was  fitted 
on  and  hooped 
with  brass  rings. 
But  when  Frt/ti/- 

••  I.IHIMIKI:."  ,•„     appeared    in 

dry  dock  he-re 
and  begun  to 

put  on  her  racing  togs,  the  Defender  syndicate  saw  the 
Britisher's  steel  boom,  and  forthwith  set  about  to  build  one 
like  it.  fiilki/rie'*  boom  is  the  first  of  the  kind  ever  seen 
in  this  country,  and  probably  the  first,  of  the  kind  ever 
made.  Some  of  the  big  sailing  ships  of  commerce  have  had 
steel  yards,  and  racing-boats  abroad  have  sometimes  been 
fitted  with  spars  of  drawn  steel ;  but  nothing  like  this  boom 
of  Talki/riv  had  ever  before  been  attempted.  It  is  hollow, 
of  course,  and  although  of  steel,  is  about  one  ton  lighter 
than  the  pine  boom  that  Defender  first  carried.  The 
American  yacht's  steel  boom  is  now  a  counterpart  of  her 
rival's.  It  is  made  in  sections  that  are  riveted  together 
through  flauges  that  project  on  the  outer  side.  It  is  built 
on  the  plan  of  an  elevated  railroad  pillar,  and  looks  very 
much  like  one,  being  of  about  the  same  thickness,  only 
round  instead  of  square,  and  about  twice  as  long  as  the 
average  elevated-road  pillar  is  high. 

The  sails  of  the  racers  are  probably  the  most  wonderful 
part  nf  their  whole  make  up.  liefender,  when  she  has  her 
mainsail,  her  jib,  her  jib  topsail,  her  staysail,  and  her  work- 
ing topsail  up.  carries  12,000  square  feet  of  canvas.  And 
when  she  substitutes  for  these  working-sails  her  balloon 
jib,  her  club  topsail,  and  puts  out,  her  spinnaker  she  almost 
doubles  that  area.  These  sails  cost  thousands  of  dollars, 
because  there  must  be  several  of  each  in  case  of  accident 
to  one  or  another,  and  for  use  in  the  different  kinds  of 
wind  that  may  prevail  in  a  race.  There  is  a  heavy  main- 
sail for  strong  winds,  of  sea  -  island  cotton  or  Egyptian 
cotton  or  ramie  cloth,  while  the  jibs  are  made  of  lighter 
grades  of  the  same  material,  until  they  come  down  to  the 


constituency  of  a  coarse  pocket-handkerchief.  One  of 
Defender's  spinnakers  is  of  Scotch  linen.  In  1H93  it  was. 
reported  that  one  of  Valkyrie  II.'s  big  spinnakers  was  of 
silk,  but  it  was  not;  it  was  of  exceedingly  fine  Irish  linen. 

Taking  all  these  matters  into  account,  and  considering 
that  each  boat  must  have  from  forty  to  fifty  sailors  to 
man  her,  it  becomes  evident  that  the  building  and  main- 
taining of  such  a  yacht  is  a  matter  of  no  small  expense. 
Mr.  George  Gould  spent  no  less  than  $40,000  to  put  I'ii/ilnut 
in  condition  to  race  with  Defender  in  the  preliminary  trials 
this  year.  The  crew  has  to  be  engaged  and  trained  for 
weeks  before  the  racer  is  put  into  commission,  and  kept 
at  work  for  a  couple  of  months  before  the  great  contests 
for  the  Cup  are  held.  These  sailors,  of  course,  cannot  live 
on  the  yacht,  since  there  is  no  room  for  bunks  or  locker* 
or  a  galley  on  the  modern  racing-machine.  Therefore  both 
Defeinler  and  1'iilki/i-ie  have  steam-tenders. 

There  is  really  something  humorous  about  a  crew  of  sail- 
ors leaving  their  hollow  unbunked  boat  every  evening  to 
go  to  bed  in  a  tender  near  by.  At  meal -time,  too,  the  gal- 
lant tars  have  to  seek  their  floating  hotel.  When  Defender 
was  with  the  New  York  Yacht  Squadron  on  this  summer's 
cruise  she  reached  port  one  evening  ahead  of  most  of  the 
fleet,  and  of  her  slow  consort.  She  was  too  deep  of 
draught  to  net  far  into  the  harbor,  and  being  a  "racer"  she 
had  nothing  aboard  but  men  and  sails,  a  small  anchor,, 
and  a  small  dingy.  Consequently  the  crew  sat  on  the 
deck  for  several  hours,  with  their  legs  hanging  over  the 
sides,  waiting  for  the  Hattie  Palmer  to  come  along  and 
give  them  their  supper. 

A  great  num- 
ber of  Ameri- 
cans— and  I  am 
one  of  them — 
would  have  pre- 
ferred to  see 
Defender  built 
on  the  Amer- 
ican centre- 
board plan,  all 
of  American  ma- 
terial, and  with- 
out borrowing 
British  ideas,  es- 
pecially as  to 
the  boom.  They 
were  sorry  to 
hear  that  Mr. 
Gould  last  year 
wanted  Mr.  Rat- 
sey,  Valleyne's 

sail-maker,  to  make  Vigilant'*  sails,  and  they  were  very  glad 
when  the  loyal  and  patriotic  Ratsey  (credit  be  to  him  for 
it !)  refused  tn  take  the  order.  But,  after  all,  this  great 
number  of  Americans  has  nothing  to  say  in  the  matter, 
and  all  they — and  I — want  is  to  see  Defender  win  by  fair 
means  the  matches  she  was  built  to  race  in,  aud  the  Cup 
she  was  built  to  defend. 


944 


INTERSCHOEASTIC 


THE    ONLY   SCHOOL    IN    THIS    COUNTRY   that   I   know    of 
where  rowing  takes  the  leading  position  in  sports  is  St. 
Paul's  of  Concord.     There  is  rowing  done  at  other  schools, 
of  course,  as  at  Cascadilla,  near  Ithaca,  and  at  St.  John's, 
Delafield,  Wisconsin,  but  at  none  of  these  institutions  has 


the  membership  of  each.  Since  then  the  interest  and  en- 
thusiasm in  the  sport  have  grown  so  steadily,  that  the  annu- 
al race  ill  June  between  the  Halcyon  and  Shattuck  crews  is 
looked  upon  as  the  principal  athletic  event  of  the  school 
year.  Each  club  puts  three  crews  on  the  water — a  first 
crew  of  eight  men  and  a  cockswain,  using  a  regular  racing- 
shell;  a  second  crew  of  six  men  and  a  cockswain,  using  a 
gig;  and  a  third  crew  of  four  men  and  a  cockswain,  also 
using  a  gig.  Captains  are  elected  for  every  crew,  and  the 
captains  of  the  first  crews  are  the  captains  of  their  clubs. 
The  rowing  is  done  on  Lake  Penacook,  which  affords  a  very 
good  mile-and-a-half  course,  and  is  within  easy  distance 
of  the  school  buildings. 


Whitbeck,  5.       Glidd 


Sturpes,  stroke. 


NieJechen,4.  Stewarl,  stroke.  Hart,  cock'n.  Wheeler,  6  (Capt).    McDuffie,  7. 

THE    HALCYON    CREW. 

the  art  reached  the  stage  of  perfection  which  characterizes 
the  work  of  the  St.  Paul's  oarsmen.  It  is  doubtless  because 
rowing  has  been  indulged  in  there  for  almost  twenty-five 
years, -whereas  at  the  other  schools  I  have  mentioned  boat- 
ing is  a  comparative  novelty.  It  is  growing  in  popularity 
as  a  scholastic  sport,  however,  and  in  a  few  years  I  have  no 
doubt  that  every  school  situated  close  enough  to  a  lake  or 
a  river  will  have  a  crew,  just  as  almost  every  school  nowa- 
days has  an  eleven  and  a  nine. 

IT  WAS  IN  1871  THAT  THE  TWO  ROWING  CLUBS  were  formed 
at  St.  Paul's,  and  the   scholars  divided   about  evenly  in 


THE    SHATTUCK    CREW. 

THE  FIRST  RACE  between  the  rival  clubs  was  held  in  1871, 
the  year  of  their  organization.  The  crews  rowed  in  four- 
oared  barges  over  a  two-mile  course.  The  best  time  made 
was  8  minutes  and  53  seconds.  In  1874  the  course  was 


BHATTTJOK. 

THE    ST.  PAUL'S    CREWS    IN    THE    WATER. 
945 


HAEPER'S   BOUND   TABLE 


changed   to   If  miles,  and  each  clul>   organized  a  second  SF.OONH  OEKW. 

crew,  owing  to  the  increasing  number  of  candidates  for  a  Howard  L  o,Fal,       stroke  alld  o.ptai,, s^f-Z      "lio"'        is"* 

scat  in   the  boat.     These  crews  also  rowed  in   tour-oared  Albert  L.  Nickerson,  No.  5 6  i  165 

barges,  as  did  the  thirds,  which  were  organized  a  few  years  Jame^Dk  ^'BR^e'No'.s *  U  3"4       J^ 

lain-,     lu  1883  the  first  crews  rowed  in  six-oared  barges  for  [.||.,<|fi"Co'<;iebay,<'Nne'2.0.'.V.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'./.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.  5  81-2        160 

the  first  time.     The  course  was  made  two  miles.   This  gave  George  c°Besick,  bow...  5  9  140          n  5 

a  new  interest  to  the  sport,  and  many  fine  oarsmen  began  to  Averages 5101-2       1492-3     178 

develop.     The  best  time  for  the  two  miles  was  made  in  Cockswain,  Harold  C.  Meal,  weight  90  Ibs. 

\->  minutes  32  seconds,  which  is  a  very  good  showing  for  a  TUTKI>  OEKW. 

crew  made  up  of  novices.     In  1891  the  first  crews  of  both  ^  H^U.        w,g,        ^ 

clubs  began  to  row  in  eights,  and  the  course  was  made  a  Constuiit  D.  Huntington,  No.  3 6  is  T 

mile  and  one-half  without  a  turn.    The  fastest  eight  rowed  James  Q.  Averell,  No.  2 

over  the  course  in  8  minutes  25  seconds,  and  although  the  DouSlas  Halliday,  bow. . . 

ere w  of  '94  claim  8  minutes  and  8  seconds,  the  former  figure  Averages  ---^-^-^^ ; -J, •  » %  lb,  »»  ' 

stands  as  the  record  at  the  present  time. 

HALCYON  BOAT  CLUB. 
THE  ROUTINE  OF  TRAINING  IS  SIMILAR  to  that  of  the  col-  FIUST  OKKW. 

lege  crews.     Soon  after  the  Christmas  recess  all  applicants  jnhn  T  S(  M  ^^ ™*u        w*ht.        fr. 

are  taken  in  charge  by  the  trainer  and  the  older  men  trom  Harry  JUcDuffie,  No.  7 6  165          18 

former  crews.    The  candidates  are  divided  into  squads  and  Herbert  Wheeler, No. « and  Captain. ..  169          17  5^ 

put  to  work  at  calisthenics,  weight-pulling,  and  the   first  J,^"1,  xiede'cke^No.  i'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.  6  174  174 

principles  of  rowing  on  the   hydraulic  rowing-machines.  Richard  N.  Wilcox,  No.  3 511 

This  goes  on  through  the  winter,  and  one  by  one  the  poor-  J|^&Bgg££fcsv; .' ; "  ::;;;::;  ;:::::;;:  g  9l  If,          \l  5 

er  material  is  dropped  and  the  crews  are  chosen.     As  soon 

as  the  snow  is  off  the  ground  the  running  begins;  short  c^S^.HicrJG.HarV/^lBht  iboibs.5 

distances  at  first,  increasing  to  two  or  three  miles      The 

gymnasium  work  meantime  continues,  ami  the  mysteries  SKOOND  CREW. 

of  the   stroke  are  gradually  unfolded   at   the  machines,  Gri8wold  Greer,)8t,.oke  and  Captain "T"        "m"        ifs 

and   each   member  of  the   crew  is  coached,  prodded,  and  Livingston  L  Biddle,  No.  5 510 

scolded  into  proper  form,  until  at  Easter  the  men  have  gggjg^^ai::::":::::      '.:::'.'.'.'.:  «'  156          III 

learned  the  full  stroke.  Leonard  M.  Thomas,  No.  2 58  146          17  2 

Frederick  C.  Biugham,  bow 56  135 

WHEN  THE  SCHOOL  EEOPENS  after  the  Easter  recess  the  Averages     .  5S2-3      1481-3  1761-2 

daily  work  continues,  with  practice  in  the  water  on  a  small  Cockswain,  James  C.  Cooley,  weight  105  Ita. 

pond  by  the  gymnasium.     A  working  boat  of  two  or  four  THIRD  OEEW. 

oars,  with  the  coach,  for  a  cockswain,  is  used  for  this  pur-  Heieht.       Weight.        *ee. 

pose.     As  soon  as  the  course  at  Lake  Penacook  is  open  the  |SS'?^SSSX«""':"         '•'"•"  '*  "*        ™          "  <> 

crews  row  there  everv  afternoon,  except  Sundays,  going  Augustus  B.  Berger,  No.  2 56  126  165 

and  coming  in  four-horse  barges.   Here  the  drudgery  stops,  Joseph  D.  Forbes,  bow 583-4       _149 

and  the  interesting  though  hard  work  begins.     The  coach  Averages 581-2        140      1691-2 

shouts  and  gesticulates  from  a  pair  oar,  men  are  changed 

about  in  the  boats,  cockswains  are  taught  to  use  the  seem-  - 

in.lv  simple  rudder,  and  the  captains  exhort  their  crews  in       ,  IT'S  APPARENT  AT  ONCE  from  these  tables  that  both  of 

lan,niage  which  strangers  might  consider  superexpressive.  <h«   "»*  crews  we™  m»de.  "P  ?f .fT    «    ^   f1,  aU<1 

Wife,,  hands  are  sureAud  muscles  harder  the  full  course  is  ^3  young  men.     Of  the  two  eighty  the  fehattucks  how- 

a,  tempted,  and  the  time  is  taken.     This  is  generally  repre-  "'er,  proved  themselves  the  better.    Their  time  and  blade- 

sented  to  the  oarsmen  as  rather  poor,  and   the   necessity  «'°'k  "'ere  I?00/'  bu*  '»  «}>lte  °    th's  they    ravel  edtl.von.uh 

for  doing  better  is  constantly  impressed  upon  them.  »ue  ^\  ^l™  tu™  .^e'r  ','"'      J  f          *  "",?  ,7 

Nus.  4  and  5,  will  certainly  be  heard  from  in  college,  as  they 

are  both  good  athletes  and  fine  oars.  The  former  goes  to 

ON  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  VICE-RECTOR'S  views  as  to  how  ath-  Yale  aud  tbe  ,atter  to  Harval.d.  Tbe  Halcyons  excelled 
letics  should  be  conducted  in  his  school,  the  date  for  the  oyel.  tbe  sbattllcUs  iu  ,,^.,,,.,..,1  forn,;  but  still  their  blade- 
final  race  iu  June  is  never  set  or  definitely  announced  much  u.or,.  was  hard)  satisfactorv.  Of  the  Halcyons,  Whr.-ln-, 
before  the  day  of  the  event.  Tins  is  done  so  that  the  good  who  rroes  tQ  Pl.iliceton  au(l  Stewart,  who  goes  to  Yale,  were 
people  of  Concord  shall  not  know  when  the  races  are  to  be,  t]]e  begt  oars  Botb  crewg  ^.ere  ma(le  up  of  o](1  meu  wl)0  had 
and  may  thus  not  avail  themselves  of  the  opportunity  to  rowed  beforei  aud  consequeiitly  a  very  close  race  was  ex- 
see  some  good  rowing.  This  spring,  in  order  to  carry  this  tcd  wben  th  n]et  <)U  Lake  Peuacoob.  It  was  thought 
principle  to  an  extreme,  the  races,  as  was  told  m  this  De-  ,  tbe  Halcyol)S'tll.,f  thcv  wolll(1  will  „„  tileir  evel,  stroke 
partment  of  July  2d,  were  rowed  iu  the  morning  instead  of  aud  8mooth  finish.  Aud  tue  backers  of  the  "  Shads  "  inain- 
in  the  afternoon,  as  has  been  usual,  and  only  the  members  taiued  that  tbe  g^eugtij  of  their  crew  would  pull  them  out 
of  the  school  knew  of  this  in  time  to  reach  the  shores  of  abead  Tbe  race  was  ,,owed  Qn  t]]e  moruing  of  Jlule  mu, 
Peuacook.  There  is  always  a  great  deal  of  excitement  and  tbe  „  ghads  „  wiunin<r  by  five  iengti,s.  They  lost  the  second 
enthusiasm  displayed  on  the  occasion  of  the  contests,  and  after  a  luck  race  and'a]so  tbe  third.  The  Halcyons  wnv 
at  the  close  of  the  day  the  colors  of  the  winning  club  are  ratber  m)t  of  jt  most  of  tbe  time  Tbey  bad  not  tbe  ,,sr. 
hoisted  ou  the  school  flag-pole.  ing  powel.  to  keep  1]p  tbeir  pacej  and  so  wljiie  tbeir  form 

grew  poorer,  that  of  the  Shattucks  improved.  The  ti 

THE  CREWS  THIS  YEAR  were  made  up  as  follows:  9  minutes  30  secouds  was  very  poor;  but  as  the  crews  had 

never  rowed  iu  the  morning  before,  this  must  be  taken  into 

SHATTUCK  BOAT  CLUB.  account. 

FIRST  OEEW. 

HeiBht        Weicht.  THE    GRKAT    FAULT   OF  THE    CREWS  at    St.  Paul's    is  that 

Walter  K.  Stnrges,  stroke 5  i  1-2         159 

Allan  s.  Woodle,  No.  T 5101-2      164          17  u  they  are  very  liable  to  lose  their  form  in  the  excitement  oi 

Geoi  ;e  Small, No  «  and  Captain... .  a  race,  and  each  man  gets  to  row  his  own  stroke.     This  is 

Jame8erKHHoTly!tNeo':14.I!<          '.I'.'. '.'.'.I'.'.'. '•'.  6  165  1810  not  so  noticeable  in  the  first  crews  as  iu  the  seconds  and 

William  F.Cocnran,  No.  3 583-4        134          194  thirds.      Nevertheless  the  Concord   School  turns   out   the 

H±yMMG1Lodcekwo?d,2bovv:::  I.":::  8  ll  1-2       ™          II  2  best  oarsmen  that  go  to  the  universities,  some  of  tbe  best 

8  101  2       159 1  2     jjY"  known   being  Phil  Allen,  George  Brewster,  Stillman,  Goet- 

Coctawafn9,Pavker  Wnitney,'weight9o'lbs.  chius,  Hickock,  and  Fenessy.    But  it  is  to  be  regretted  that, 

946 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


THE  UNIVERSITY   OP   CHICAGO   INTERSCHOI.ASTK  •    LAWN-TENNIS   TOVKNAMENT. 


Preliminary  Round. 


H.  H.  Lay  (M.P.A.l. 
H.  Poppen  (H.P.H.). 
P.  D.  McQiiiston  (C.A.). 
M.  A.  Warren  (L.F.A.). 
W.  C.  Powell  (L.V.H.). 
0.  M.  KavmiMnl  (H.S.) 
P.  Staley  (N.D.H.). 
K.  White  (E.H.) 


First  Round. 
W.  Besjgs  (C.M.). 
Anderson  (P  Y.). 

j-Lay,  6-3,3-6,6-0. 

[  ^!  collision,  2-6, 1-5,  6-1. 

!•  Powell,  6-4,  6-0. 

j- Staley,  6-1,6-1. 

A.  Vernon  (E.H.M.). 
A.  Johnston  (W.U.). 


Second  Round, 
j-  Beggs,  6-1,  7-5. 

(•Lay,  6-1,  6-3. 


V  Staley,  6-1,  6-3. 
.-  A.  Vernon,  6-1,  8-6. 


Final  Round. 


Beggs,  6-1,  6-3. 


Sl:il,.y,  6-1,  4-6,  0-3.  . 


Beggs,  2-0,  6-2,  6-2,  3-6,  6-2. 


Preliminary  Round. 


Beggs-GoblefC.M.). 
Gore-Garnet!  (H.P.II.l. 
Boyce-Puillson  (H.S.). 
Vermin-Clark  (E.H.M.). 
Stalev- Keith  (N.D.H.). 
Anderaon-Halsey  (P.Y.). 


McQiiiston  Brothers  (C.A.I. 
Waneii-Stearns  (L.F.A.). 

j-  Beggs  and  Goble,  3-6,  6-3,  6-4. 
j-  Buyce  and  Puillson,  default. 

}  Stnley  and  Keith,  7-5,  3-6,  6-3 
'  Powell  and  Fallen  (L.V.H.). 


j-  McQuiston  Brothers,  6-1,  6-2. 
VBeggs  and  Goble,  6-2,  6-2. 

!•  Staley  and  Kelt)),  6-1,  9-7. 


Begge  and  Goble, "] 
'•  -'.  'J-7. 


Drake  and  Blaclcwelder  (M.P.A.).    I  „ 

Wallace  andJohnston  (W.D.U.).      (Drake  and  Blackwelder,  2-6,  6-3,  6-3.    J 


Staley  and  Keith, 
default. 


Staley  and  K.:ilb, 
6  -1,  6-4. 


C.M.— Chicago  Manual  Training  School 
P. Y.— Princeton-Tale  School. 
M.P.  A.— Morgan  Park  Academy. 
H.P.H.— Hyde  Park  High-School. 
C.A. — Chicago  Academy. 
L.F.A.— Lake  Fort  Academy. 


L.V.H.— Lake  View  High-School. 

U.S.— Harvard  School. 

N.D.H.— North  Division  High-School. 

E.H.— Englewpod  High-School. 

E.H. M.— English  High  and  Manual  Training  School. 

W.D.—  West  Division  High-School. 


with  snch  fine  men,  and  such  well- trained 
crews  and  t°i>ntl>:ill  tf.-iins.  ami  l>.-isi;balluiues, 
it  should  be  the  policy  of  the  school  to  pro- 
hibit interscholasiic  contests.  St.  Paul's 
never  meets  any  other  school  on  field  or 
water. 

THE  IXTERSCHOLASTIC  TENNIS  TOCRNA- 
MEXT  of  the  University  of  Chicago  was  held 
in  that  city  last  June,  the  results  being 
shown  in  the  accompanying  table  of  scores. 
Points  counted  as  follows:  First  in  singles, 
5;  second  in  singles,  :S ;  first  in  doubles,?; 
second  in  doubles,  4.  The  North  Division 
High-School  took  the  championship  by  win- 
ning first  place  in  the  doubles,  and  second 
ill  the  singles,  earning  thereby  a  total  of  10 
points.  Second  place  went  to  the  Chica.go 
Manual  Training  School,  whose  representa- 
tives took  first  in  the  singles  and  second  in 
the  doubles,  total,  9  points.  The  school 
winning  the  greatest  number  of  points 
in  three  years  will  obtain  permanent  pos- 
session of  the  trophy.  The  tournament 
was  a  success,  and  the  formation  of  the  MS 
sociatiou  is  bound  to  stimulate  the  growth 
of  the  game  in  tho  schools  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Chicago.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that 
Beggs  was  not  sent  to  Newport.  The  win- 
ner of  next  year's  tournament  should  cer- 
tainly conic  East.  THE  GRADUATE. 


TEACHER  (tnciaxs  in  pliiloxnjiltii).  "What 
are  the  properties  of  heat,  Willie?" 

WILLIE.  "The  properties  of  heat  are  to 
bake,  cook,  roast — 

TEACHEK.  "  Stop — next.  What  are  the 
properties  of  heat  .'" 

.IIIIINNY.  -The  properties  of  beat  is  that  it 
expands  bodies,  while  cold  contracts  them." 

TEACHER  "Very  good.  Can  yen  give  me 
an  example  ?" 

JOHNNY.  "  Yes,  sir.  In  summer,  wben  it 
is  very  hot,  t!"J  day  is  'ong  ;  in  winter,  \\  lieu 
it  is  cold,  \<  gets  i  be  very  short." 


Highest  of  all  in  Leavening  Strength. —  Latest  U.  S.  Gov't  Report 


Baking 

Powder 

ABSOLUTELY  PURE 


Fall  Importations  of 

BLACK  AND  COLORED 

Dress  Goods 


Exclusive  Novelties 


CAJ  1  916  6t. 


j 

NEW  YORK. 

947 


Good    ™in 

Music ;  iontction. 

GOOD  MUSIC  arouses  a  spirit  of  good-will, 
creates  a  harmonious  atmosphere,  and  where 
harmony  and  good=will  prevail,  the  disobedient, 
turbulent,  unruly  spirit  finds  no  resting-place. 
Herbert  Spencer  puts  his  final  test  of  any  plan  of 
culture  in  the  form  of  a  question,  "  Does  it  create 
a  pleasurable  excitement  in  the  pupils  ?"  Judged 
by  this  criterion,  Music  deserves  the  first  rank, 
for  no  work  done  in  the  school  room  is  so  surely 
creative  of  pleasure  as  singing.  Do  we  not  all 
agree,  then,  that  Vocal  Music  has  power  to  bene- 
fit every  side  of  the  child  nature  ?  And  in  these 
days,  when  we  seek  to  make  our  schools  the 
arenas  where  children  may  grow  into  symmetri- 
cal, substantial,  noble  characters,  can  we  afford 
to  neglect  so  powerful  an  aid  as  Music  ?  Let  us  as 
rather  encourage  it  in  every  way  possible. 


ttit  find  for  Home  or  School 
a  better  Selection  of  Songs  and  Hymns  than 
in  the  Franklin  Square  Song  Collection. 

Sold  Everywhere.     Price.  50  cents:    Cloth 
Full  contents  of  the  Several  Numbers,  with 

men  Pages  of  favorite  Sontr>    and   Hymns,  sent  by 
Harper  &  Brothers,  New  York,  to  any  ,-uU;: 


Ifafflictedwtthi 

SORE  EYES 


:l5MC-gHRJO|ljEYEWATER 


HAKPER'S   EOUND   TABLE 


Bicycle  route 
fair  bicycle  road. 
Railway  station 
oor  road. 
•f-  Hofe I 


BICYCLING 


Copyright,  IS95.  by  Harper  &  Brother*. 


This  Department  is  conducted  in  the  interest  of  Bicyclers,  and  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to 
answer  any  question  on  the  subject.  Our  maps  and  lonrs  contain  much  valuable  data  lundlv 
supplied  Iron,  the  official  maps  and  road-boohs  of  the  l.eagne  of  American  Wheelmen.  Recog- 
nizing the  value  "f  the  work  being  done  by  the  L.  A.  W.,  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to  furnish 
subscribers  with  membership  blanks  and  information  so  far  as  possible. 

WE  have  now  finally  to  turn  to  the  eastward  of  New 
York,  and  take  up  the  route  from  New  York  to 
Boston.  The  trip  from  New  Y'ork  to  Stamford  (see  map  in 
No.  811)  has  already  been  given  in  the  ROUND  TABLE,  and 
for  an  ordinary  rider  who  is  taking  the  trip  easily  this 
might  serve  as  the  first  day's  trip,  being  a  distance  of 
about  twenty-eight  miles.  On  leaving  Stamford  the  next 
morning,  proceed  by  the  Post  Road  and  turnpike  direct  to 
Darien.  The  road  itself  from  Stamford  to  New  Haven  is 
along  the  shore,  which,  at  the  same  time  that  it  necessitates 
the  crossing  of  several  bridges  during  a  day,  also  offers 
many  beautiful  views  of  the  Sound,  and,  as  a  usual  thing, 
is  one  of  the  coolest  rides  in  summer.  The  road-bed,  as  a 
rule,  is  in  reasonably  good  condition  ;  but,  where  available 
between  villages,  the  side  path  maybe  taken  to  advantage, 
except  in  one  or  two  instances,  which  are  especially  men- 
tioned. From  Darien  to  South  Norwalk,  a  distance  of  four 
miles,  is  one  of  these,  where  the  rider  should  avoid  side 
paths.  Crossing  the  railroad  at  Darieu,  the  road  runs  di- 
rect to  South  Norwalk.  At  South  Norwalk  again  cross  the 
railroad  on  the  east  of  the  station,  and  the  road  turning 
northward,  to  avoid  an  inlet,  should  be  followed  along  the 
shore  to  Sangatuck  Church,  which  is  close  by  the  railroad. 
Here  the  rider  should  take  Riverside  Avenue,  and,  follow- 
ing the  horse-car  tracks,  proceed  to  Westport  to  the  draw- 
bridge, which  he  should  cross,  and  thence,  proceeding 
straight  ahead,  run  into  Southport,  passing  by  Green's 
Farm,  and  always  following  the  main  road  as  laid  down 
on  the  map. 

BY  REFERRING  To  THIS  MAP,  moreover,  the  rider  will 
see  that  it  is  possible  to  turn  to  the  left  about  one 
and  a  half  miles  out  of  Westport  after  crossing  the  draw- 
bridge, and  rim  up  a  more  direct  road  to  Southport.  The 
road,  however,  is  not  as  good,  and  the  rider  will  do  well  to 
follow  the  bicycle  route  exactly  as  marked  on  the  map.  At 
Soutliport  the  railroad  is  again  crossed  at  the  station 
and  the  direct  road  for  Fairh'eld  taken,  which  continues 
without  many  turnings  to  Bridgeport.  At  Bridgeport 
more  than  half  the  journey  to  New  Haven  is  done,  a  dis- 
tance of  twenty-two  or  twenty-three  miles,  and  you  can 
put  np  for  dinner.  After  finishing  dinner,  cross  the  river 
at  Bridgeport  near  the  depot,  and  take  the  turnpike  to 
Stratford,  thence  to  Naugatnck  to  Milford,  a  distance  of 
nine  miles.  Running  out  of  Milford  turn  to  the  right  and 
keep  to  the  shore  road  always.  About  two  and  a  half 
milt's  out  of  Woodmont  you  pass  into  the  turnpike  road  di- 
rect to  West  Haven,  and  from  here  the  run  into  New  Haven 
is  easily  found  and  but  a  short  distance,  and  here  you  may 
put  up  very  comfortably  at  the  New  Haven  House,  and  take 
the  opportunity  that  afternoon,  if  yon  arrive  in  town 
early  enough,  or  the  next  morning  before  you  start  on  the 
next  stage,  to  go  over  the  grounds  and  through  the  buildings 
of  Yale  University. 

This  trip  from  New  York  to  Boston  is  a  capital  one  for 
any  one  to  take  during  the  fall,  and  we  shall  therefore 
follow  it  out  by  the  following  stages:  1.  From  New  York 
to  Stamford;  2.  From  Stamford  to  New  Haven;  3.  From 
New  Haven  to  New  London  ;  4.  From  New  London  to  Sliau- 
n nek;  5.  From  Shaunuck  to  Providence;  6.  From  Provi- 
dence to  Boston. 

NOTR.— Map  of  New  York  city  asphalted  streets  in  No.  809.  Mnp  of 
route  from  New  York  to  Tarrytown  in  No.  810.  New  York  to  Stamford, 
Connecticut,  in  No.  611.  New  York  lo  Stnten  Island  in  No.  812.  New 
Jersey  from  Hobokeu  to  Pine  Brook  in  No.  813.  Brooklyn  in  No.  814. 
Brooklyn  to  Babylon  in  No.  815.  Brooklyn  to  Northport  in  No.  816. 
Tarrytown  to  Ponghkeepsie  in  No.  SIT.  Ponghkeepsie  to  Hudson  in 
No.  818.  Hudson  to  Albany  in  No.  819  Tottenville  lo  Trenton  in  8'20. 
Trenton  to  Philadelphia  in  S'Jl.  Philadelphia  in  No.  822.  Philadelphia 
— Wissahickon  Route  in  No.  823  Philadelphia  to  West  Chester  in  No. 
824.  Philadelphia  to  Atlantic  Citv— First  Stat;e  in  No.  825;  Second 
Stage  in  No.  826.  Philadelphia  to'Viuelaud  —  First  Stage  in  No.  827; 
Second  Stage  in  No.  828. 


948 


HARPEE'S   EOUND  TABLE 


This  Depnrtnient  is  conducted  in  the  interest  <M'  GirU  'irid  Yoiini* 
Women,  and  the  Editor  will  be  plenseil  to  answer  any  i|u.'  IIMII  MM 
the  subject  ao  fur  as  possible.  Correspondents  ahfmM  addre  k,M.,i. 

T  AM  going  to  have  a  little  chat  with  yon, 
L  girls,  on  the  obligations  cif  good  hivcdiiiir, 
and  first  I  will  begin  by  relating  an  inci- 
dent. 

A  friend  of  mine  was  in  a  Broadway  cable- 
car  the  other  day.  You  girls  who  live  in 
New  York  know  just  how  the  big  cable-cars 
swing  along,  how  fast  they  go,  and  how 
many  people  they  cau  accommodate.  Most 
of  you  have  taken  rides  in  electric  cars 
\vhich  to-day  are  to  be  found  all  over  our 
country,  scurrying  along  like  mad  in  some 
of  the  rural  places,  where,  once  out  of  sight 
of  tlio  village,  and  on  a  level  stretch  of  road, 
they  fairly  fly.  I  could  tell  you  of  one  line 
•where  the  cars  rush  along  over  a  down  grade 
at  a  furious  rate  of  speed,  while  the  smiling 
passengers  cling  to  the  seats  or  frantically 
hold  on  to  their  hats  ami  parasols,  and  once 
safely  out,  everybody  takes  a  long  breath 
of  relief.  But  this  is  diverging.  I  was 
going  to  te)l  you  of  my  friend's  adventure, 
in  the  New  York  car,  a  sober-moving  thing 
in  comparison  with  its  country  cousin.  And 
my  tale  has  nothing  in  the  world  to  do  with 
the  speed  or  slowness  of  the  car,  anyway. 

MY  friend  took  his  seat,  and  presently 
began  to  be  very  uncomfortable.  For 
everybody  seemed  amused  at  him,  glances 
were  levelled  in  his  direction,  girls  giggled, 
elderly  ladies  drew  their  faces  into  a  pucker, 
and  the  atmosphere  of  the  place  was  as 
electric  as  the  fluid  which  sent  the  car 
through  space.  After  a  short  interval  the 
puzzled  gentleman  discovered  that  it  was 
not  he  who  was  the  object  of  mirth  to  his 
comrades  on  the  road,  but  a  poor,  shy, 
blushing,  tearful,  trembling,  frightened 
girl  who  was  sitting  by  his  side.  She,  poor 
child,  was  dressed  in  an  outre  fashion,  which 
did  not  please  the  set  of  people  in  that,  con- 
veyance, and,  evidently,  she  had  met  with 
an  accident,  for  her  clothing  was  tumbled 
and  torn,  her  face  was  bruised  aud  cut,  and 
one  hand  had  been  wrenched  aud  seemed 
to  be  paining  her  very  much.  I  can  imag- 
ine nothing  more  brutally  ill-bred  and  rude- 
ly ignorant  and  unfeeling  than  the  beha  vinr 
of  those  silly  girls  and  boys,  and  still  more 
silly  grown-up  people  in  that  car.  Can 
yon  ?  They  were  laughing  at  a  child  who 
had  met  with  au  accident  on  her  wheel ! 


Now,  for  au  opposite  picture.  One  after- 
noon lately,  at  the  terminus  of  a  great  rail- 
road, in  a  crowded  waiting-room,  a  foreign 
lady  with  her  attendants  attracted  some 
observation,  but  was  neither  stared  nor 
laughed  at.  Yet  her  costume  was  really 
extraordinary.  Around  her  neck  she  wore 
a  dozen  chains  of  gold,  linked  together  aud 
sparkling  with  rare  gems.  The  chains  hung 
to  her  waist,  and  gleamed  like  a  gorgeous 
breast-plate.  Pendants  of  diamonds  hung 
from  her  small  brown  ears.  Her  small  dark 
hands  were  loaded  with  jewelled  ring*  :  IHT 
head  was  enveloped  in  many  folds  of  white 


silken  gauze.  Open-worked  silk  stockings 
covered  her  little  fuet,  and  she  wore  lnK\i- 
heeled  slippers  with  painted  toes.  Her 
travelling-';""'!!  was  a  rich  shiimnmiif; 
brocade,  ill  fitting  and  with  a  long  train. 
Her  raaids,  one  fair  and  white,  the  other 
black  as  ebony,  were  loaded  with  baskets 
and  bundles,  and  her  servitor  held  in  Irash 
two  magnificent  collies,  while  a  green  ami 
yellow  parrot  chattered  from  his  perch  on 
the  man's  arm. 

All  this  was  a  sight  to  arouse  attention 
and  excite  curiosity,  but  this  was  a  well- 
bred  throng  of  people  gathered  in  the  wait- 
ing-room, anil  tin-  lady,  probably  a  princess 
from  some  tropic  island,  was  annoyed  by  no 
looks,  laughter,  or  remarks. 

ONE  of  the  first  rules  to  be  adopted  by  a 
thoroughly  polite  person  is  this  :  Never 
show  surprise,  except  of  the  genuinely  gra- 
cious kind,  the  kind  that  expresses  cordial 
interest  and  pleasure.  Never  laugh  at  an 
awkward  predicament,  at,  for  example,  a 
fall,  or  a  mistake  made  by  another.  Be 
careful  never  to  pain  any  one,  friend  or 
stranger,  by  ridicule,  or  by  thoughtlessly 
plain  speaking. 


ILL-TEMPERED  BABIES 

are  not  desirable  in  any  home.  Insufficient  nourish- 
ment produces  ill  temper.  Guard  against  fretful 
children  by  feeding  nutritious  and  digestible  food. 
The  Gail  Burden  Eagle  Brand  Condensed  Milk  is  the 
most  successful  of  all  infant  foods. — [4dy.] 


ADVERTISEMENTS. 


Oh,  Boys  and  Girls, 

AND   ALL   WHO  ARE   YOUNG   AT    HEART 
IF  NOT  IN  YEARS, 

HERE  IS  FUN  FOR    YOU! 

WATERLOO  is  novel  and  exciting!     It 

costs  $1.25    ($1.50,  express   prepaid   from 
publishers).     It  is  one  of  the  famous 

Parker  Games 

Our  Illustrated  Catalogue,  including  "  Inno- 
cents Abroad,"  "Chivalry,"  "Authors," 
"  Napoleon,"  "  Yankee  Doodle,"  and  loo 
others,  for  two-cent  stamp.  "  Brownies  "  and 
"  Wonderland,"  by  mail,  35  cents  each.  Look 
I  for  the  imprint 

PARKER  BROTHERS, Salem,  Mass., U.S.A. 

949 


n^~ 

\^^^r      There 
H^^^  classes  of  1 

nni  IIHJI 


are  two 
classes  of  bicycles — 


COLUMBIAS 

and  others 


Columbiasscll  for  $100  to  everyone 
alike,  and  arc  the  finest  bicycles  the 
world  produces.  Other  bicycles  sell 
for  less,  but  they  are  not  Coiumbias. 

POPE    MFG.   CO.,    HARTFORD,   CONN. 

You  See  Them 
Everywhere 


Oh,    Boys! 

The 

"Rugby'Watches 

have  been  designed  especially  for  you. 
They  have  nickel,  sterling-silver,  or  gold- 
filled  cases,  and  cost  from  four  to  ten 
dollars. 

The  silver  have  etched  designs,  and  the 
gold-filled  are  handsomely  engraved. 

Just  Right  Size  for  Your  Pocket. 

Perfect  time-keepers,  and  warranted  in 
every  particular. 

Send  to  us  for  the  "  Rugby ' '  Catalogue, 

and  ask  any  jeweler  to  show  the  watches. 

The  Waterbury  Watch  Co., 


Waterbury,  Conn. 


Stamps,  Src. 


jnnn    Mixed   Foreign  Postage  Stumps,   including 
lUUU    Fiji  Island?,  Samoa,  Hawaii.  HMUL'  K.HIL',  for 
34c.  in  stamps  :   Kl  varu-tir-  CT.  S.  I 
25c.;    entire    unused   5c.   aud    lOc.   <'»]um'ii:iii    Enve- 

lope*,  'J.'M-     tin-    |1;i;r        Only  a  lilu: 

sued  l>y  U.  S.  Government.     K.  F.  ciAMUS,  1; 
San  Francisco,  Cal.    Establish'  •!,  !•.;•_• 

100ulldif.Venezuela,Bo 

•JlH>alldi!.IIayli,lIa».'r 

w't'datfiOperct  «'i".     l.ii-t  I'liKK:   c.  v. 
Stegm«nn,5941CoteBriliante,St.Ix) 

Mixed  Australian,  etc  .  I'1''.:    1O.S  v;iri.-- 

lies,  anil  niri'.ill"iiii.  I'"-  :  II!    I 
OAfricftjlOc.;  15Asia.lOc.  F.I'.  Vimvnl.rhathain.  V  Y 


WONDER  CiniXET  FREE.  M-!i«U»k 

Pultlp,    Prul's    B..MI*.    1'ockc:    OlBm,l«lMI 

Wirv  Cut 
Hmd.  T  •(  • 

• 
lN-;K[:.-<  :  i      i  ' 


HARPEE'S    ROUND    TABLE 


A  Very  Generous  Offer. 

I  would  be  glad  to  send  to  members  about  the 
Table  specimens  of  the  slate  schists  and  gold-bear- 
ing quartz  from  this  section  of  the  Appalachian 
Bange,  the  oldest  geological  formation  of  the  con- 
tinent. My  father  is  engaged  in  gold-mining  in 
this  country,  and  I  have  collected  a  large  number 
of  beautiful  specimens. 

We  have  no  express  office  near,  but  as  much  as 
four  pounds  can  be  sent  by  mail  at  one  cent  an 
ounce.  All  I  ask  is  that  whoever  sends  for  quartz 
enclose  postage-stamps  for  as  many  ounces  as  they 
desire.  I  will  label  the  specimens,  pack  and  mail 
them  for  the  sake  of  giving  to  my  fellow-readers 
of  the  ROUND  TABLE  an  opportunity  of  possessing 
some  rare  geological  specimens  of  this  almost  un- 
discovered country.  MARGARET  L.  JOHNSON. 

MABGANNA,  VA. 


Junior  $50  Word  Hunt. 

Fifty  dollars  will  be  given  by  HARPER'S  ROUND 
TABLE  to  the  persons,  under  eighteen,  who  make 
out  of  the  letters  composing  "  Harper's  Round 
Table"  the  greatest  number  of  English  words 
found  in  Webster  or  Worcester.  Letters  may  be 
used  in  any  order.  No  proper  names  or  plurals 
allowed.  $25  to  first,  $10  to  second,  $5  to  third, 
and  $1  each  to  next  ten.  Write  words  one  below 
another,  and  number  them.  Put  your  own  name 
and  address  at  top  of  sheet.  Post  lists  not  later 
than  November  35, 1895,  to  HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE, 
New  York. 


Senior  $50  Word  Hunt. 

Fifty  dollars  will  be  given  by  HARPER'S  ROUND 
TABLE  to  the  persons  (any  age)  who  make  out  of 
the  letters  composing  "Harper's  New  Monthly" 
the  greatest  number  of  English  words  found  in 
Webster  or  Worcester.  Letters  may  be  used  in 
any  order.  No  proper  names  or  plurals  allowed. 
$35  to  first,  $10  to  second,  $5  to  third,  and  $1  each 
t«>  next  ten.  Write  words  one  below  another,  and 
number  them.  Put  your  own  name  and  address  at 
top  of  sheet.  Post  lists  not  later  than  November 
25, 1895,  to  HARFEK'S  ROUND  TABLE,  New  York. 


Lunar  Attraction. 

Jacques  Ozanam,  the  famous  French  mathema- 
tician, invented  this  startling  illusion,  which  I  will 
describe  for  the  benefit  of  the  Round  Table. 

Make  a  box  three  feet  square,  or  of  any  con- 
venient size,  and  place  a  board  of  the  same  dimen- 
sions in  the  bottom,  slightly  inclined,  with  a  ser- 
pentine groove  in  it,  so  that  a  ball  of  lead  can  roll 
in  it  freely.  Extend  a  plain  mirror  from  the  ele- 
vated end  of  the  board  to  the  opposite  upper  cor- 
ner, with  the  reflecting  side  down.  Cut  a  small 
hole  in  the  end  of  the  box  facing  the  mirror,  and 
in  such  a  position  that  the  grooved  board  itself 
cannot  be  seen.  If  a  ball  of  lead  rolls  along  the 
groove,  it  will  appear  to  ascend. 

VINCENT  V.  M.  BEEDE. 


For  Lovers  of  Figures. 

Here  are  two  ingenious  problems,  of  French  ori- 
gin, which  mathematically  inclined  members  will 
enjoy : 

1.  Fifteen  Christians  and  fifteen  Turks  were  at 
sea  in  the  same  vessel  when  a  dreadful  storm  came 
on  which  obliged  them  to  throw  all  their  merchan- 
dise overboard.  This,  however,  not  being  suffi- 
cient to  lighten  the  ship,  the  captain  informed 
them  there  was  no  possibility  of  its  being  saved 
unless  half  the  passengers  were  thrown  overboard 
also.  He  therefore  arranged  the  thirty  in  a  row, 
and  by  counting  from  nine  to  nine,  and  throwing 
every  ninth  person  into  the  sea,  beginning  again 
at  the  first  of  the  row  when  it  had  been  counted 
t»  tli-'  end,  it  was  found  that  after  fifteen  persons 
had  been  thrown  overboard,  the  fifteen  Christians 
remained.  How  did  the  capta.in  arrange  these 
thirty  persons  so  as  to  save  the  Christians? 

KEY.— The  method  may  be  deduced  from  this 
Latin  sentence : 


Populeam  virgam  mater  regina  ferebat.  Or  from 
this  French  couplet : 

Mort,  tu  ne  failliras  pas, 
En  mt  Iterant  ie  trtpas. 

2.  Three  gentlemen  and  their  valets  desiring  to 
cross  a  river  find  a  boat  without  a  boatman ;  the 
boat  is  so  small  that  it  can  contain  no  more  than 
two  of  them  at  once.  None  of  the  masters  can  en- 
dure the  valets  of  the  other  two,  and  if  any  one  of 
them  were  left  with  any  of  the  other  valets,  he 
would  infallibly  cane  them.  How  can  these  six 
persons  cross  the  river,  two  and  two,  so  that  none 
of  the  valets  shall  be  left  in  company  with  any  of 
the  masters  except  when  his  rightful  master  is 
present? 

The  answers  to  these  problems  will  be  given  next 
week. 


Amateur  Journalism. 

Many  hundreds  of  young  persons  having  literary 
taste  write  stories  and  verses  for  the  amateur 
journals.  A  few  hundred  young  persons  more 
ambitious  than  the  others  publish  these  miniature 
newspapers.  These  publishers,  editors,  and  con- 
tributors have  long  been  organized  into  the  Na- 
tional Amateur  Press  Association — the  "N.A.P.A." 
for  short.  Every  year  a  national  convention  is 
held,  at  which  a  great  deal  of  time  is  spent  discuss- 
ing methods  and  men.  and  a  great  deal  of  enthu- 
siasm displayed  in  behalf  of  favorite  candidates  for 
president  and  other  offices.  Of  course  there  is  the 


r 


WILL  HANCOCK,  President  N.A.P.A. 

social  side,  and  scores  of  delightful  acquaintances 
are  formed  that  have  been  known  to  last  a  life- 
time. 

The  last  national  convention  was  held  in  Chica- 
go, when  Mr.  Will  Hancock,  editor  of  the  Pi-airie 
Breezes,  which  "  blow  monthly,"  was  elected  presi- 
dent. He  lives  at  Fargo,  N.  D.,  and  will  send  a 
copy  of  his  paper  to  any  member  of  our  Order  who 
asks  him  to  do  so.  He  wants  to  get  acquainted 
with  as  many  members  as  possible,  in  order  to  in- 
vite you  to  join  the  ranks  of  the  N.A.P.A.  The 
other  officers  are:  First  Vice-president.  Arthur  J. 
Robinson, Bohemia,  Chicago,  111.;  Second  Vice-presi- 
dent, Zelda  R.  Thurman,  Vhicaqoan,  Chicago,  111.; 
Recording  Secretary,  Albert  E.  Barnard,  Writer, 
Chicago,  111.;  Corresponding  Secretary,  Edward  A. 
Hering.  Er,  >•//>; , ,,  State,  Seattle,  Wash.;  Treasurer, 
George  L.  Colburn,  The  Mirror,  Pekin,  111.;  Official 
Editor,  Edith  Missiter. 

Judiciary  Committee:  Ex  -  president,  John  L. 
Tomlinson,  editor  Commentator,  Spokane,  Wash., 
Chairman  :  Miss  Stella  Truman.  Opelousas.  La.,  edi- 
tor The  Smith.  ex-President  Southern  A. P. A. .Secre- 
tary ;  and  Charles  R.  Burger,  Jersey  City,  N.  J.,  edi- 
tor Progress. 

Na  t  ional  Laureate  Recorder,  Mabel  C.  Lucas,  edi- 
tor SeareJi-ltght,  Spokane,  Wash. 

Secretary  of  Credentials,  Nathan  Hill  Ferguson, 
Level  Plains,  North  Carolina,  author. 

950 


Chairman  Recruiting  Committee,  Harrie  C.  Mor- 
ris, editor  Ocean  Wares,  San  Francisco,  Cal. 

Librarian,  Ella  Maud  Frye,  Halifax,  Nova  Scotia. 

The  convention  of  1896  is  to  meet  in  Washington, 
D.  C.  Dues  in  the  N.A.P.A.  are  small.  Address 
Recruiting  Committee  or  Mr.  Hancock.  There  is 
also  a  New  England  Press  Association,  of  which 
Miss  Susan  D.  llobbins,  Abiugton,  Mass.,  is  presi- 
dent. She  will  give  information  concerning  it  to 
all  who  ask. 


Celebrating  the  "Fourth  "  Abroad. 

The  other  day  we  went  in  the  cars  to  a  little  town 
on  the  Elbe's  bank,  and  there  took  a  steamboat 
and  went  up  the  river.  The  view  was  lovely,  and 
looked  like  a  mixture  of  the  Rhine  and  the  pali- 
sades on  the  Hudson,  with  high  cliffs  on  each  side 
—some  green  with  trees,  and  others  with  the  bare 
gray  rocks  worn  by  the  wind  and  rain  into  a  thou- 
sand queer  shapes.  In  some  places  there  were 
quarries  for  the  soft  buff  sandstone  of  which 
these  cliffs  are  composed,  lending  another  color 
(yellow)  to  the  cliffs  of  gray  and  green.  You  can 
well  imagine  how  lovely  it  was. 

As  we  neared  the  town  the  country  changed,  and 
now  it  resembled  the  Thames,  with  villas  here  and 
there  among  the  trees.  The  King  of  Saxony  has 
his  summer  palace  here,  with  pleasure  -  boats 
moored  to  the  wharf.  We  reached  the  brightly 
lighted  city  on  our  return  just  at  twilight,  wishing 
our  journey  was  not  over  so  soon. 

We  went  to  the  Belvedere  on  the  Fourth  of  July. 
It  is  a  large  garden  by  the  river.  It  is  crowded 
every  night,  a  good  half  of  the  people  being  English 
and  Americans.  Of  course  the  "Fourth"  was  a 
great  American  night,  the  programme  being  print- 
ed in  English.  The  hand  played  everything  it  knew 
of  American  music,  with  some  of  the  English  com- 
posers for  the  English  part  of  the  audience.  You 
should  have  heard  the  clapping  for  "  Hail  Colum- 
bia." The  musicians  played  the  beautiful  "  Largo  " 
too,  and  the  husli  that  fell  over  every  one  was  nice 
to  see,  even  a  lot  of  students  who  sat  at  the  next 
table  stopped  talking  and  laughing. 

Last  of  all  came  a  great  mixture  of  all  the  Ameri- 
can tunes.  Everybody,  or  at  least  a  great  number, 
sang;  and  you  can  well  imagine  the  noise  when 
"Yankee  Doodle  "  came.  "Marching  through  Geor- 
gia "  was  sung  loudly,  every  one  clapping  in  time. 
By  everybody  I  mean  the  Americans.  "  Old  Black 
Joe"  was  most  highly  appreciated,  and  when  it 
came  to  "  Way  Down  upon  the  Suwanee  River," 
the  voices,  it  seemed  to  me,  beat  any  opera  chorus 
in  the  world.  A  great  many  voices  were  "  quav- 
ery" at  "Home,  Sweet  Home," and  my  sister  and 
I  indulged  in  rather  a  "  watery  "  smile. 

I  never  knew  the  pathos  of  that  song  till  I  was 
in  a  German  garden,  with  some  of  my  countrymen 
around  me, three  thousand  miles  from  "home."  I 
could  just  hear  the  waves  beating  on  the  beach  at 
dearold  East  Hampton,  wilh  the  moonlight  shining 
over  all;  the  light  in  the  dear  little  "chalet," and 
our  footsteps  sounding  on  the  board  walk,  as  we 
came  in,  in  time  for  dinner,  with  the  bright  table 
and  father  just  in  from  town.  And  I  could  see  the 
funny  old  house  with  the  willows  in  front,  and  the 
quiet  old  graveyard  bright  in  the  still  white  light. 
Across  the  way  Daisy's  house  with  the  yellow  lamp- 
light shining  through,  and  Daisy's  black  shadow 
passingacross  the  light  through  the  window.  John 
Howard  Payne  must  have  seen  the  same  "  Home, 
Sweet  Home  *'  as  I  did  that  minute. 

DBBSDKN,  GIEMANV.  EDITH  S.  MILLS. 


A  South  Carolina  Plantation. 

We  live  on  a  plantation.  The  clearing  is  about 
400  acres  in  extent.  On  the  east  is  a  salt-water 
river,  a'nd  on  the  north,  south,  and  west  is  the  for- 
est. On  the  other  side  of  the  river  is  a  marsh.  On 
this  marsh  there  grows  a  kind  of  grass.  In  the 
winter  the  marsh  dries  and  breaks  off,  and  in 
spring,  when  we  have  high  tides,  the  grass  floats 
upon  the  beach,  and  people  haul  it  away  to  put  in 
the  stables  for  the  horses  and  cows.  There  are 
many  large  live-oaks  scattered  over  the  clearing, 
with  lots  of  moss  hanging  from  them.  The  moss 
is  lovely.  Along  the  river-shore  on  our  side  are 
palmettos,  oak-trees,  and  hushes. 

BLDFPTOK,  S.  C.  MlLLIB  MlTTKl.I..  R    T.  L 


HARPER'S  BOUND   TABLE 


This  Deptirtmi-nl  n  conducted  in  the  Interest  of  stamp  nn<l  oiin 
collectors,  and  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to  answer  any  question  on 
these  subjects  so  far  as  possible.  Correspondents  should  address  E.iitur 
Stamp  Department. 

COREAN  money  is  made  of  copper  or 
brass,  each  piece  about  as  large  as  our 
old  copper  cents,  with  a  square  hole  in  the 
centre.     It  takes  six  hundred  of  these  coins 
to  equal  in  value 
one  of  our  silver 
dollars.     Ten  dol- 
lars  -would    be   a 
good    load    for    a 
man       to      carry 
about,    and     fifty 
dollars   would   be 
a  good  load  for  a 
horse. 

Where  does  the 
capitalist  keep  his 
money?  We  have 
to  build  immense 
vaults  in  Wash- 
ington to  store 
away  onr  silver 
bullion  and  silver 
dollars  that  no 
one  cares  to  carry 
about  as  we  prefer 
good  gold  or  pa- 
per money.  There 
are  no  banks  or 
safe-deposit  companies  with  fire-proof  vaults 
in  Corea,  so  the  Corean  capitalist  is  forced 
to  devise  a  met  hod,  and  has  hit  upon  a  very 
novel  one.  He  lends  out  the  money  early 
in  the  spring  at  50  per  cent,  or  60  per  cent. 
per  year,  all  loans  to  be  repaid  in  full  with 
interest  late  in  the  autumn.  The  money, 
therefore,  comes  back  about  the  beginniiij; 
of  winter.  The  Corean  digs  a  big  hole  in 
his  yard  the  first  freezing  night  and  spreads 
out  a  layer  of  cash  on  the  bottom.  On  top 
of  this  be  throws  some  earth  a,nd  wets  it 
thoroughly.  As  soon  as  this  is  frozen  hard, 
he  spreads  out  another  layer  of  cash  and 
covers  it  with  wet  earth  ;  this  freezes  in  turn 
and  another  layer  of  cash  is  put  away. 
When  he  gets  through  the  whole  is  wet 
again  and  it  naturally  freezes  solid.  Thus 
each  Corean  capitalist  has  his  own  security 
vault,  and  the  winter  is  such  that  there  is 
no  danger  of  any  one  trying  to  dig  up  the 
money  until  warm  weather  in  the  spring. 

W.  J.  MoGAijvEY. — Continental  and  Confederate 
bills  have  little  value,  owing  to  the  enormous  quantity 
Btill  in  existence.  A  collection  of  these  would  be  of 
at  least  as  much  interest  as  a  collection  of  stamps, 
and  the  expense  would  not  be  very  great. 

H.  H.  LurriER.—  The  Colombian  half-dollar  is  in  reg- 
ular circulation  at  face  value.  There  is  little  prospect 
of  its  increasing  in  value. 

V.  S.  B.— The  dealers  sell  the  1830  half -dollar  fur 
75c. 

R.  STAUKK  —Ten-cent  stamp  ajbntns  are  not  recom- 
mended lo  even  a  beginner.  A  very  good  album  can 
be  bought  for  $1. 

S.  A.  DYAR.—  The  coin  described  is  Spnnisli.aml  is 
worth  about  12c.,  face  value.  De-ilera  quote  one-dollar 
gold  pieces  at  $1  60,  quarter  eagles  at  $3, 182S-S2  half- 
cent  15c. ;  1858  copper  cents  5c. 

PHILATUS. 


THE  LUXURY  OF 
SECURITY  IS 
FOUND  IN  THE 
DELONG  PAT- 
ENT HOOK 


SEE  THAT 


RICHARDSON  S-DE  LONG 
BROS.   PHILADELPHIA 


One  can  be  genteel  and  neat, 
and  still  indulge  a  love  of  out-door 
sports. 

A  fall  with  nothing  worse  than 
mud  stains  is  not  serious;  Ivory 
Soap  will  remove  troublesome  spots 
and  restore  the  original  freshness 
to  a  good  piece  of  cloth. 

Copyright  1695,  The  Procter  A  Gamble  Co. 


BALTIMOREAN   PRINTING-PRESS 

has  earned  more  money  for  hoys 
than  all  other  presses  in  the  mar- 
ket, lioyy,  don't  idle  fiway  your 
time  when  you  can  buy  a  self- 
iukln.tr  print  ing-press,  type,  and 
complete  outfit  for  $5.00.  Write 
for  particulars,  there  is  money 
in  it  for  you. 

THE  J.'F.  W.  DORMAX   CO., 
Baltimore,   M.I.,   I  .  v  V. 


nCACNESS  &  HEAD  NOISES  CURED 

u  c  A  r  tesm^&ss-ssifs. 

vices  cnnihlns.l.  Whispers  flLHn  I  Help  ears  an  Classes 
do  eyes.  F.  HUt-ox,  858  B'dway.N.Y.  Boot  of  proofs  FREE 

Harper's  Catalogue, 

Thoroughly  revised,  classified,  and  in- 
dexed, will  be  sent  by  mail  to  any  ad- 
dress on  receipt  of  ten  cents. 


SOME   POPULAR   BOOKS 


AFLOAT  WITH   THE   FLAG. 

By  W.  J.  HENDERSON,  Author  of  "  Sea  Yarns  for  Boys,"  etc.  Illus- 
trated. Post  Svo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $i  25. 

THE  BOY  TRAVELLERS  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

Adventures  of  Two  Youths  in  a  Journey  through  Morocco,  Algeria, 
Tunis,  Greece,  and  Turkey,  with  Visits  to  the  Islands  of  Rhodes  and 
Cyprus,  and  the  Site  of  Ancient  Troy.  ByTii<>MA>  W.  KNOX. 
Profusely  Illustrated.  Square  Svo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $3  °°. 

TWILIGHT    LAND, 

Written  and  Illustrated  by  HOWARD  PVLE,  Author  of  "The  \Yuii- 
der  Clock,"  "Pepper  and  Salt,"  "Men  of  Iron,"  etc.  8vo.  Half 
Leather,  Ornamental,  $2  50. 

THE    STORY    OF    BABETTE, 

A  Little  Creole  Girl.  By  RUTH  MrExERY  STUART.  Author  <.f 
"Carlotta's  Intended,"  "A  Golden  \Yc<klini;."  etc.  Illustrated. 
Post  Svo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  §i  50. 

THE    FUR  =  SEAL'S    TOOTH. 

A  Story  of  Alaskan  Adventure.       By  KlKK  MUNROE.       [llusti 
Post  Svo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  si  25. 

HARPER   &    BROTHERS,  Publishers,  New  York 

951 


ViKW    OF    A   SEEMINGLY    F.STINCT   VOLCANO. 


STARTLING  CHANGES  IN  6AME  CAUSED  HY  A  SUDDEN  ERUPTION. 


'A    SEEMINGLY    EXTINCT    VOLCANO." 


TOMMY'S  SUGGESTION. 

MAMMA.  "You  should  always  take  the  smaller  piece  of 
anything  offered.  You  just  took  the  larger  piece  of  cake, 
and  left  the  smaller  piece  for  your  elder  hrother." 

TOMMY.  "  But,  mamma,  as  Willie  is  my  elder,  I  think  the 
plate  should  have  beeu  passed  to  him  first." 


HARD  TO  TELL 

"WHAT  on  earth  is  that  baby  crying  for?"  asked  the 
baby's  father. 

"  He  says  he  wants  a  wolly-bully-um,"  said  mamma. 

"  Well,  for  goodness'  sake  give  it  to  him." 

"  I  will,  if  you'll  tell  me  what  it  is,"  said  mamma. 


HE   WAS   WONDERING. 

"MAMMA,"  said  little  Willie  the  other  day,  "  don't  some 
people  think  that  when  folks  die  they  turn  into  animals 
and  birds  ?" 

"I  believe  so,  Willie,"  replied  his  mother ;  "but  why  do 
yon  ask  that  question  ?" 

"  Only."  said  Willie,  "  because  I  was  wondering  if  all  the 
uegroes  turn  into  chicken-hawks." 

CHOP    LOGIC. 

TILLIE.  "  A  man  who  keeps  a  bakery  is  a  baker,  isn't  he  f" 

HILLY.  "  Of  course.     And  a  mau  who  keeps  cellery  is  a. 

seller,  but  a  man  who  keeps  a  buttery  isn't  a  butter,  is  he  f 


VERY  LIKELY. 

"I  CAN'T  understand  why  it  is  that -the  baby  keeps  put- 
ting his  hands  in  his  mouth  all  the  time,"  said  Bob. 

"  I  guess  lie's  trying  to  hold  his  tongue,"  suggested 
Mabel. 


A   SPAT   AT  THE  MUSEUM. 

"You  are  a  fraud,"  cried  the  Fat  Man  to  the  Living 
Skeleton.  "  I  can  see  through  you." 

"  Of  course  you  can,"  retorted  the  Living  Skeleton. 
"That  merely  proves  what  a  living  skeleton  I  am." 


TOMMY'S   NOSE. 

TOMMY.  "Papa,  I  wish  you  would  buy  me  a  set  of  box- 
ing-gloves." 

PAPA.  "  I'll  do  no  such  thing.     Do  you  want  to  get  your 
nose  broken  ?" 

TOMMY.  "  No;  I  only  want  to  learnhow  to  keep  it  from 
getting  broken." 

* 

DREAMS. 

MABEL.  "  Don't  dreams  always  go  by  contraries  ?" 
MAMMA.  "  I  have  heard  so." 

MABEL.  "  Well,  last  night  I  dream- 
ed that  I  asked  you   for   a  piece  of 
—  cake,  and    you    wouldn't   give   it    to 

me." 


THE  VENDER'S  HORSE. 

WHEN  little  Rupert  saw  a  ven- 
der's horse  whose  ribs  were  plainly 
visible  the  other  day,  he  said  to  his 
nurse : 

"Oh,  Ellen,  just  look  at  the  horse 
with  cordnrov  skin!" 


HIS  OBJECTION. 

"  I  SIMPLY  wish  we'd  never  had 
any  American  Revolution,"  sighed 
Tommy,  after  school  the  other  day. 
"  It's  made  my  life  miserable." 

"How  so?"  asked  his  uncle. 

"  So  many  more  history  dates  to 
remember,"  said  Tom. 


r 


HE    KNEW. 


TEACHER.  ''Now  WHICH  OF   YOTT  BOYS  CAN   TELL  ME   WUAT  SEA   WATER  CONTAINS 

BE8IDK8   THE   SODIUM    nni.ORIPK   .TITST   MENTIONED?" 

TOMMY    TATTERS.  "MoGiNTY!" 

952 


LIKE   THE   REST. 

"  An,  Jack,  I  hear  you  go  to  kinder- 
garten." 

"Yes." 

"  What  do  you  do  there?" 

"Oh — we  make  things." 

"  Indeed  ?  And  what  do  you  mako 
chiefly?" 

"  Noise,"  said  Jack. 


HARPER'S 


ROUND  TABLE 


,  1895,  by   HARPKH  &   BHOTHKBS.     All   Rights  Reserved. 


eUBUMlKD     WKKKLY. 
VOL-   XVI.— NO.  830. 


NEW   YORK,   TUESDAY,  SEPTEMBER  2-4,   1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO    DOLLARS    A    YEATI. 


AN    OWN     RELATION. 


BY    SOPHIE    SWETT. 


THE  couutry-week  girl  came  up  the  lane  with  her  head 
in  the  air,  so  Gideon,  who  was  watching  her  from  the 
crotch  in  the  old  sweet-apple  tree,  afterwards  remarked  to 
little  Adoiiiram. 

After  some  hesitation  Gideon  dropped  down  at  her  feet. 
Aunt  Esther  had  especially  enjoined  it  upon  him  to  be 
kind  to  the  country-week  girl.  Aunt  Esther  mould  remem- 
ber that  lie  used  to  get  under  the  bed  when  a.  girl  came  to 
see  Phemie  ;  but  that  was  wheii  he  was  small. 

"Is  this  Sweet  Apple  Hill?  Be  you  Trneworthys?"  de- 
manded the  girl,  looking  critically  At  Gideon. 

"  Yes,  "in,"  said  Gideon,  and  then  reddened  and  scorned 
himself  because  he  had  been  overpolite.  But  the  girl  was 
tall  for  fourteen — "  Grazelia  Hickins,  aged  fourteen,"  the 
letter  from  the  Country-week  Committee  had  rrad — and 
she  wore  a,  wide  sash  and  a  scarlet  feather  in  her  hat  and 
carried  a  pink  parasol. 

Phemie,  who  came  around  the  corner  of  the  house  just 
then,  saw  at  a  glance  that  the  tiuery  was  shabby,  but  Gid- 
eon thought  that  Grazella  Hickins  was  very  stylish. 

Grazella  dropped  her  bundle  upon  the  grass  opposite  the 
front  gate  aud  seated  herself  upou  it, meditatively.  She  did 


not  arise  from  it  as  Phemie  opened  the  gate,  but  she  sur- 
veyed her  with  an  air  of  friendly  criticism  ;  1'heinie  \\  as 
fourteen  too. 

"  I  like  your  looks  real  well,"  she  remarked  at  length, 
with  a  trine  of  condescension.  Her  glance  sought  Gideon 
and  little  Adoiiiram,  who  peeped  from  behind  the  friendly 
shelter  of  the  big  black-currant  bush.  "I  think  boys  are 
kind  of — middling,"  she  added.  It  was  evident  that  a 
more,  severe  adjective  than  this  had  been  withheld  only 
from  motives  of  politeness.  "l'\e  LV'I  an  own  relation, 
thiiiigh,  that's  an  awful  m<-e  boy — awful  smai  t  too;  \  mi 
never  know  what  he's  going  to  do  next." 

Little  Adoiiiram  pricked  up  his  ears;  Aunt  Ksllicrhad 
been  known  to  say  that  of  him  without  meaning  to  be  com- 
plimentary. City  standards  cif  behavior  seemed  to  He 
cheerfully  ditlerent  from  those  of  l',a\H.  nv  Corner. 

"  I  wouldn't  have  said  a  won!  if  Jicksy  cmilil  have  come 
too,"  continued  (na/ella,  and    her   snapping    Idark 
slowly  tilled  with  tears.      "  A  cousin  is  a  real  comfort  " 

"Do  you    mean    I  hat  \  on    didn't  waul  to   com. 
Phemie,  ill  a  disappointed  tone. 

"I'm  in  Ihe  newspaper  business:   'twas  kind  of  risl 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


leave  ii  :  there's  so  many  iiushiu'  iu.  But  they  don't  want 
me  to  Lome  ;  mother  she's  married  again,  and  lie  don't  like 
me.  Jicksy  is  all  I've  got  that's  really  my  own.  ]fhe 
could  have  come  too  — 

She  swallowed  a  lump  in  her  throat  with  determination, 
and  raised  her  eyes  to  the  old  sweet  apple-tree  whose  fruit 
was  yellowing  in  the  August  sunshine. 

••Are  them  apples?"  she  asked.  "They  ain't  near  so 
shiny  and  handsome  as  Judy  Magrath  keeps  on  her  stand  : 
.ln.ly  shines  'em  with  her  apron.  I  never  was  in  the 
country  before,  and  I  don't  know  as  I'm  going  to  liUe  it. 
But  I'm  run  down,  they  say,  and  I've  got  a  holler  cough  . 
so  I  had  to  come." 

Phemie  had  almost  begun  to  wish  that  they  had  not 
taken  a  country- week  girl ;  but  now  she  noticed,  sudden- 
ly, tin1  meagreiiess  of  the  tall  form,  and  the  deep  hollows 
under  tlie  snapping  black  eyes,  and  repented.  It  was 
proverbial  that  people  grew  plump  and  strong  on  Sweet 
Apple  Hill. 

Aunt  Esther  came  out,  and  the  girl's  manner  softened 
under  the  influence  of  her  tactful  kindness.  She  seemed 
to  like  Grandpa  Trneworthy  too ;  she  said  she  had  a 
grandpa  once,  and  'twas  the  must  she  ever  did  have  that 
was  like  other  folks. 

But,  after  all,  it  was  she  and  Gideon  who  seemed  most 
congenial.  Gideon  explained,  with  a  gravely  approving 
wag  of  the  head,  that  she  was  "  business."  Gideon  flat- 
tered himself  that  he  had  abilities  in  that  line,  and  lie  was 
cultivating  them  diligently.  He  had  not  expected  to  get 
any  hints  from  a  girl  ;  but  the  country-week  girl  was  as- 
sistant at  a  newspaper  stand,  and  she  also  "  tended  "  for 
Judy  Magrath  when  Judy,  as  she  explained  with  sad  and 
severe  head-shakings,  Tvas  obliged  to  go  to  a  funeral;  but 
it  was  Judy's  only  infirmity,  she  added,  very  charita- 
bly. 

Of  course  girls  did  not  generally  have  such  business  op- 
portunitics  as  these,  and  it  was  Gideon's  opinion  that  she 
was  ''considerable  of  a  girl,  anyhow."  It  must  be  con- 
fessed that  Aunt  Esther  was  a  little  anxious,  and  the  min- 
ister expressed  a  doubtful  hope  that  she  would  not  prove 
"a  corrupting  influence."  Gideon  told  Grazella  all  his 
business  plans,  which  Phemie  never  cared  to  listen  to  It 
was  after  tea  one  evening,  and  he  and  Grazella  were  sitting 
on  the  orchard  wall,  while  Phemie  and  little  Adoniraiii 
shook  the  old  damson-plum-tree.  He  told  her  of  the  con- 
tract he  hud  made  with  the  owners  of  the  canning  factory 
at  Bayberry  Port,  to  supply  them  with  berries  for  the 
w  hole  season,  and,  what  he  wouldn't  tell  any  fellow,  of  the 
groat  find  he  had  made — a  blackberry  thicket  over  on  the 
other  side  of  Doughnut  Hill,  almost  an  acre,  and  the  ber- 
ries just  beginning  to  ripen!  He  was  going  to  sell  the 
plums  oil' his  trees, too,  and,  later  on.  his  crab-apples,  he'd 
got  a  business  opening,  she'd  better  believe  ; 

( Jra/ella's  eyes  snapped,  and  her  thin,  sallow  cheeks  red- 
dened suddenly.  "You'd  ought  to  have  a  partner !''  she 
cried. 

Gideon  shook  his  head  doubtfully.  "It's  awful  risky 
takin' partners,"  he  said.  '•  If  they  ain't  smart,  you  have 
to  do  all  the  work;  ifthev  are,  they  are  apt  to  cheat 
you." 

"Jicksy!"  suggested  Grazella,  wistfully,  breathlessly 
"  1 — I've  got  a  job  for  him  up  here — a  little  one  ;  I  didn't 
tell,  because  I  was  afraid  your  aunt  wouldn't  ask  me  to 
stay  another  week  if  she  knew;  she's  seairl  of  me,  and  I 
expect  she'd  be  scairter  of  Jicksy."  (The  country-week 
girl's  eyes  were  sharp.)  " Mr.  Suell,  across  the  field,  said 
he'd  give  him  Ins  board  to  help  him  take  care  of  his  cattle, 
and  1  heard  they  were  wanting  a  boy  to  blow  the  organ 
iu  chureh.  It  wouldn't  suit  Jicksy  to  throw  away  his 
talents  workiu'  for  his  board  ;  but  he's  crazy  for  the  coun- 
try, and  the  doctor  said 'twould  be  the  niakin'  of  him,  ac- 
i  mini  of  his  heart  beatin'  too  fast,  and  whatever  he  has  to 
eat  he  always  thinks  it  enough  to  go  'round  among-.!  a 
dozen  that's  poorer  than  him.  He  could  blo\v  the  organ, 
for  when  lie  belonged  to  the  show  he  blew  up  the  fat  man 
— all  the  iugy-rubber  tbciu's  that  made  him  fat,  yon  know, 
everj  day:  and  once  he  worked  for  a  balloon-man.  But 
if  you'd  take  him  for  a  partner  in  your  business — ' 


Grazella's  eyes  were  so  anxious  that  Gideon  found  it 
hard  to  shake  his  head  with  the  proper  decision,  although 
he  felt  strongly  doubtful  whether  Jicksy  were  "  the  man 
for  his  money ." 

••  lie's  coming  up  to  Mr.  Suell's,  anyway,"  said  Grazella, 
made  hopeful  by  Gideon's  evident  weakness.  "And  when 
you  see  Low  smart  he  is,  you'll  say  you  wouldn't  have  no- 
body else  for  a  partner!  He  ain't  jest  common  folks,  like 
you  and  me,  anyhow,  Jicksy  ain't  ;  his  adopted  father  was 
a  lion-tamer  iu  a  circus,  awful  famous  and  talented,  and 
Jicksy  himself  has  rode  elephants  and  camels,  and  travelled 
'round  in  the  boa-constructor's  cage,  and  his  own  uncle  is 
the  wild  man  of  the  South  Seas!" 

Gideon's  prudent  mind  still  hesitated;  he  doubted 
whether  these  wonderful  opportunities  especially  fitted  a 
boy  for  the  berry  business. 

Nevertheless,  when  Jicksy  arrived,  he  succeeded  in  con- 
vincing Gideon  of  his  desirability  as  a  partner,  and  this  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  his  appearance  was  not  pleasing.  His 
face  was  so  thin  and  wizened  that  it  made  him  look  like  a 
little  old  man,  and  his  black  hair  standing  upright  above 
the  snapping  black  eyes,  that  were  remarkably  like  Gra- 
zella's, gave  him  a  fierce  and  combative  aspect.  Farmer 
Snell  professed  himself  satisfied;  he  said  he  was  up  an' 
comiu'  if  he  wa'u't  very  likely-lookin'.  And  he  secured 
the  position  of  organ-blower  at  the  village  church,  an  easy 
matter,  because  it  was  not  coveted  by  the  Bayberry  boys, 
owing  to  the  fact  that  the  wind  iu  the  ancient  instrument 
would  occasionally  give  out  with  an  appalling  screech,  and 
the  luckless  aud  innocent  blower  was  always  soundly 
cuffed  therefor  by  the  sexton,  who  held  that  this  summary 
measure  was  necessary  to  preserve  the  public  respect  for 
the  organ — which  the  parish  hoped  to  sell  to  a  struggling 
young  church  at  the  Port  as  soon  as  it  could  afford  a  new 
one. 

And  Aunt  Esther  did  invite  Grazella  to  stay  another 
week.  The  neighbors  thought  the  reason  that  she  gave  a 
very  queer  one — because  she  was  kept  awake  nights  by  tlie 
hard  little  cough  in  the  room  next  hers. 

Gideon  had  been  influenced  by  Jicksy's  ready  tougue. 
He  confided  to  Phemie  that  there  ought  to  be  one  good 
talker  in  a  business  firm,  and  also  by  the  fact  that  he  didn't 
expect  an  equal  share  of  the  profits,  but  realized  the  value 
of  Gideon's  capital  and  experience.  (Gideon  had  seven 
dollars  and  fifty-nine  cents,  which  he  kept  tucked  away 
under  the  ticking  of  his  bed  aud  counted  over  every 
night.) 

Jicksy  wasn't  extravagant  either,  as  Gideon  had  feared 
that  he  would  be.  He  discovered  at  once  that  they  were 
paying  Steve  Peunyphair,  the  stage-driver,  too  much  for 
carrying  the  berries  to  the  Port.  Freedom  Towle,  the  milk- 
man, would  carry  them  among  his  cans  for  half  as  much. 
Gideon  had  thought  of  asking  Towle,  but  the  fact  was 
Bobby  Towle  often  went  on  the  route  instead  of  his  father, 
and  Bobby  w  as  known  to  be  greedy.  Jicksy  managed  that 
difficulty  by  fastening  some  canvas  (old  hay-caps)  securely 
over  the  tops  of  the  baskets.  Gideon  had  thought  of  the 
plan  ;  he  had  lain  awake  half  of  two  nights  reckoning  how 
large  a  hole  the  price  of  canvas  enough  would  make  in 
that  seven  dollars  and  fifty-nine  cents;  he  hadn't  thought 
of  those  old  hay-caps  that  Jicksy  had  found  in  the  barn 
chamber 

Jicksy  was  truly  honest,  aud  before  the  end  of  the  sec- 
ond week  of  the  partnership  he  began  to  wonder  whether 
an  ability  to  think  of  things  ought  not  to  offset  experience ; 
and  he  had  brought  home  from  the  Port  library  a  very 
large  book  on  the  relations  of  capital  aud  labor.  But  be- 
fore he  had  settled  these  knotty  problems  of  the  partner- 
ship in  his  mind  something  happened  that  caused  a  great 
excitement  at  Bayberry  Corner,  aud  made  many  people  say 
they  were  glad  they  had  known  better  than  to  take  coun- 
try-week children,  for  if  the  girl  had  not  been  sent  to  Sweet 
Apple  Hill  the  boy  would  not  have  come.  Jicksy  had  gone 
to  the  canning  factory  at  the  Port  to  collect  a  bill,  and  he 
bad  not  returned.  The  amount  of  the  bill  was  twenty- 
four  dollars  aud  sixty-four  cents;  Gideon  had  "done"  the 
addition  seven  times  over,  and  then  had  Phemie  do  it ; 
strangely  enough,  thought  Gideon,  Phemie  had  "  a  head  for 


904 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


figures."  He  had  run  a  pitchfork  iuto  his  foot,  so  he  could 
not  go  and  collect  the  money  himself,  aud  although  he  had  a 
prudent,  mind,  he  had  not  thought  of  distrusting  his  part- 
ner. Hut  he  had  heard  from  the  factory  that  Jicksy  had 
collected  the  money — aud  he  had  disappeared. 

As  soon  as  the  fact  liecnme  known  there  was  another 
development;  the  minister's  watch  was  also  missing.  Jick- 
sy had  Mown  the  orgau  for  three  services  with  fidelity  and 
sun-ess;  only  once  had  that  fatal  scream  interrupted  the 
devotions  of  the  congregation,  and  then  it  was  in  a  mild 
and  mitigated  form.  But  after  the  evening  service  the 
minister  had  thrust  his  watch,  which  he  kept  on  the  desk 
while  he  preached,  iuto  the  absurd  little  pocket  with  a 
tight  little  elastic  aud  a  blue  ribbon  bow  which  his  wife 
hail  made  in  the  embroidered  cover  of  his  sermon-case. 
He  explained  that  he  put  it  there  because  he  knew  that 
his  wile  liked  to  have  him  (he  was  young  and  newly  mar- 
ried), and  therefore  he  was  sure  that  his  memory  was  not 
at  fault.  He  had  carelessly  left  the  serruou-case  on  the 
desk,  where  the  sexton  had  found  it — without  the  watch. 
The  boy  who  blew  the  organ  was  the  only  one  who  had  an 
opportunity  to  take  it.  It  was  the  day  after  this  loss  that 
Jicksy  took  "French  leave";  he  had  "killed  two  birds  with 
one  stone,"  Bay  berry  people  said. 

(irazclla's  eyes  snapped  continually;  grandpa  said  she 
was  as  hoppiu'  as  a  parched  pea.  She  said  folks  had  ought 
to  be  ashamed  of  themselves  that  could  b'lieve  such  things 
of  Jicksy.  The  probabilities  of  the  case  made  no  impres- 
sion whatever  on  Grazella's  mind. 

The  minister's  wife,  who  had  taken  a  fancy  to  the  girl, 
ottered  her  consolation  at  the  sewing  circle,  which  met  at 
the  Trueworthys'  two  days  after  Jicksy's  departure. 

"You  mustn't  think  we  hold  yon  responsible  for  what 
he  has  done,"  she  said,  gently.  "He  is  only  your  cou- 
sin." 

Grazella  stood  up,  her  little  bony  cheeks  aflame.  "  He 
ain't  neither  only  my  cousin.  I  just  let  on,  because  he'd 
got  up  iu  the  world,  and  I  didn't  want  folks  heaviu'  it  at 
him  that  he  had  a  sister  that  tended  for  Judy  Magrath. 
He's  my  own  brother  as  ever  was  in  the  world,  and  when 
folks  are  thinkin'  he's  a  thiij',  I  just  want  'em  to  know  that 
lie's  my  brother^  Jicksy  is  sniarter'n  other  folks,  aud  you 
never  know  what  he'll  do  next;  but  I  told  Gideon  that 
he'd  find  him  an  awful  square  partner,  aud  I  stick  to  it — 
now." 

There  were  melancholy  head -shakings  in  the  sewing 
circle;  in  fact,  the  whole  circle  shook  its  head  as  one  wo- 
man ;  but  it  was  whispered  that  the  girl  was  probably  hon- 
est :  that  the  little  scamp  had  deceived  her,  as  he  deceived 
others. 

But  at  that  very  time  an  exciting  rumor  was  circulating 
about  Bayberry  Corner.     Iky  Snell  shouted  it  at  the  open 
window  of  the  room  where  the  sewing  circle  sat  at  supper. 
A  boy  had  been  seen  on  the  turnpike-road  coming  tow- 
ards Sweet  Apple  Hill,  leading  a  giraffe. 

"  Looks  as  if  he  had  a  circus  procession  all  to  himself," 
declared  Iky,  enviously ;  and  if  several  persons  who  had 
seen  him  were  not  very  greatly  mistaken,  the  boy  was 
Jicksy 

•'  If  some  boys  should  come  home  leadin'  a  giraffe,  why,  I 
might  be  kind  of  surprised,"  remarked  grandpa;  "but  it 
does  seem  jest  like  Jicksy." 

Grazella,  who  had  been  trying  to  swallow  blackberry  tart 
mingled  with  tears,  tried  very  hard  to  be  calm,  though  her 
thin  little  face  paled  aud  flushed.  "  You  never  know  what 
Jicksy  will  do  next,"  she  said,  proudly. 

Sweet  Apple  Hill  turned  out;  so  did  half  Bayberry  Cor- 
ner; every  one  ran  towards  the  turnpike-road;  even  the 
sewing -circle  supper- table  was  deserted  in  undignified 
haste. 

It  «•«»  Jicksy,  footsore  and  begrimed,  aud  accommodating 
his  gait  to  the  tread  of  a,  creature  whose  body  seemed  to 
be  set  upon  stilts,  and  whose  neck  might,  as  I'liemie  de- 
clared, lie  tied  iuto  a  double  bow-knot.  The  animal  was 
lame,  and  its  head  wagged  iu  a  curious  fashion. 

i  (ideon,  seeing  his  partner  afar  oft',  felt  a  thrill  of  delight 
in  his  uonesty,  which  seemed  probable  since  he  was  return- 
in..,  but  if  was  followed  by  a  painful  doubt  couceruiug  his 


"  business  bump."  Jieksy  had  wished  to  liny  Aaron  (Jreen's 
old  horse, which  Aaron  \\uuld  sell  for  fuenty  dollars.  It 
was  a  good  horse  for  the  money,  and  it  i-ould  easilv  In-  Kept 
on  their  little  farm  ;  aud  the  old  blue  carl  in  the  barn  could 
be  repaired  at  very  small  expense,  and  perhaps  what  Jiek- 
sy said  was  true  that  yon  had  lo  have  some  style  lo  :L 
business  to  ad vertise  it.  Nevertheless,  <  'idcon  bad  not cou 
sented  to  buy  Aaron  Grec-n's  horse;  he  had  Cell  that  the 
twenty-four  dollars  and  sixty-four  cents  must  go  under  his 
bed-ticking  with  the  seven  dollars  and  fifty-nine  cents. 
where  he  could  count  it  every  night.  lie  Celt,  a  wild  fear 
that  Jicksy  had  bought  the  giratle  to  draw  the  blue  cart, 
following  his  theory  that  there.  \\  as  not  hing  like  attracting 
attention  to  your  business. 

"I  didn't  run  away!"  Jieksy  was  saying  angrily,  as 
Gideon  pressed  through  the  crowd,  "(iid  understood  that 
it  \N  as  business  that  kept  me,  didn't  yon  (Jid  f"  But  Gideon 
looked  away;  he  couldn't  say  that  lie  had  understood,  and 
he  was  certain  that  he  didn't  understand  now  about  that 
giraffe. 

"I  heard  that  McColloh's  show  was  stranded  down  to 
\\Ystport;  that's  the  show  I  b'louged  to  once;  couldn't 
pay  their  bills,  aud  the  sheriff  was  after  'em;  I  thought 
maybe  I  could  get  a  horse,  cheap."  There  was  sileuce  as 
the  crowd  listened  to  Jicksy's  explanation  ;  only  now  and 
then  a  shrill  question  interrupted  him.  "Foot  it?  Of 
course  I  did."  (It  was  twenty  miles  to  Westport.)  "I 
wasn't  goiu'  to  fool  away  the  linn's  money.  Comiu'  back 
I  had  the  giraffe  ;  they're  slow  travellers,  and  Squashy  is 
lame.  There  wasn't  any  horse  that  I  could  buy — trained 
horses  and  Shetland-ponies,  aud  they  were  selling  high. 
Squashy  is  lame  aud  old,  and  sometimes  he  gets  ngly." 
(The  crowd  withdrew  from  Squashy's  viciuity.)  "Me  aud 
Nick  Pridgett  could  always  manage  him.  Nick  is  partner 
in  a  show  now,  and  it's  down  to  Hebron.  I  saw  that  in 
the  paper.  When  Jim  McColloh  says  to  me, '  There's  old 
Squashy;  gets  on  to  his  tears  worse  than  ever;  you  can  have 
him  for  twenty  dollars  if  you  want  him.'  A  giraffe  for 
twenty  dollars!  If  you  knew  the  show  business  as  well  as 
I  do  you'd  know  that  was  a  big  bargain."  Jicksy  addressed 
this  remark  to  Gideou,  but  his  partner  was  unresponsive  ; 
he  saw,  iu  faucy,  the  giraffe  harnessed  to  the  old  blue  cart, 
the  equipage  was  attended  by  crowds;  but  the  berry  busi- 
ness was  not  a  circus.  "  Quicker  'n  scat  I  give  him  the 
inonej',"  pursued  Jicksy,  and  Gideon  groaned.  "Then  I 
telegraphed  to  Nick  Pridgett,  '  Will  yon  pay  fifty  dollars 
for  Squashy?'  'Bring  him  along  and  the  money  is  yours.' 
telegraphs  Nick.  So  I'm  briugiu'  him  along."  The  crow 
cheered;  Gideon's  face  brightened;  this  was  business. 
"  Aud  I've  got  to  bring  him  along  pretty  lively,"  continued 
Jicksy,  "for  there  isn't  a  building  in  town  big  enough  to 
hold  him,  unless  it's  the  church." 

That  made  every  one  think  of  the  watch  ;  but,  queerly 
enough,  just  at  that  moment  the  minister  was  seen  rnuuiug 
iu  a  very  undignified  manner  up  the  lane.  In  dressing  to 
officiate  at  a  wedding  at  the  Port  he  had  discovered  his 
watch,  chain,  aud  all,  in  one  of  his  coat-tail  pockets.  He 
said  that,  knowing  it  was  his  duty  to  put  it  in  some  un- 
usual place,  aud  being  absent-minded,  he  had  stowed  it 
away  there. 

Grazella  hushed  every  one's  exclamations  before  they 
reached  Jicksy's  ears.  She  said  her  cousin  was  proud,  and 
she  didn't  want  him  to  know  that  he  had  been  suspected 
of  stealing.  Her  cousin!  The  sewing-circle  ladies  looked 
at  each  other;  but  she  held  her  head  in  the  air,  and  looked 
so  steru  that  no  one  .land,  or  had  the  heart  to  contra- 
dict her.  Jicksy  was  up  in  the  world  again,  and  she  was 
not  going  to  have  him  dragged  down  b\  a  sister  who  bad 
tended  for  Judy  Magraih!  When  Jicksy  relumed  tn.ii, 
Westport,  bringing  a  dollar's  worth  of  bine  paint  lo  paint 
the  old  cart,  the  partnership  was  set  lied  upon  a  linn  basis. 

Jicksy  said  Bayberry  Corner  was  a  place  that   suited   I 

"down    in   the  ground," aud  the  minister's  wife  had  taken 
Grazella  to  live  v>  it  h  her.     That  made  him  waul   to 
I  bey  hadn't  any  real  ow  n  folks,  but  just  each  other.     I  • 
said  that  seeing  Jieksy  had  put  some  capital  into  thi 
ness,  as   \nii   mighi    nay,  henceforth    thej    would  share  and 
share  alike. 


955 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


FOUE  YOUNG  RUSSIAN  HEROES. 

BY  V.  GRIBAYEDOFF. 

HE  death  last  .spring,  at  Astrakhan,  in 
southeastern  Russia,  of  Captain  Nich- 
olas Novikoff,  :i  retired  naval  officer, 
recalls  some  of  the  principal  events  of 
the  Crimean  war.  Novikoff  was  the 
last  survivor  of  a  famous  quartet 
of  heroes.  They  were  cabin-boys  cm 
board  ships  of  the  Russian  Black 

Sea  fleet  at  the  outbreak  of  the  war  against  Turkey,  in 
1853,  and  their  ages  ranged  at  the  time  from  twelve  to 
fourteen  years.  The  other  three  were  Vasili  Rinitzik. 
Ivan  Robert,  and  Sergins  Farasionk. 

The  day  after  the  Russian  defeat  at  the  Alma,  on  Sep- 
tember 20. 1854,  Menschikoff,  Commander-in-chief,  sent  per- 
emptory orders  to  Admiral  Kornilotf  in  Sebastopol,  the 
great  Crimean  port  of  war,  to  sink  in  the  passage,  at  the 
entry  of  the  "Roads,"  his  live  oldest  line -of- battle  ships 
and  two  frigates,  in  order  to  prevent  the  Anglo -French 
fleet  from  forcing  an  entrance.  These  orders  were  carried 
out  on  the  night  of  September  22d.  The  doomed  vessels, 
pierced  with  holes,  sank  in  the  roadstead  in  the.  presence 
of  their  crews,  drawn  up  in  parade  formation  alongshore. 
Scarcely  a  dry  eye  watched  the  mournful  event.  The 
sailors  and  marines  who  had  humbled  the  Turk  but  a  few 
mouths  before  in  the  harbor  of  Sinope  now  bent  their 
energies  to  the  defense  of  Russia's  great  stronghold.  The 
men  who  had  navigated  and  fought  the  Czar's  proudest 
men-of-war  were  assigned  to  the  duty  of  throwing  up  iu- 
trenchments,  constructing  subterranean  mines,  handling 
heavy  siege  ordnance,  and  of  performing  numerous  other 
tasks  incident  to  warfare  ashore. 

Among  those  brave  defenders  of  the  great  fortress,  our 
four  young  heroes  soon  distinguished  themselves  by  their 
splendid  courage  and  devotion.  Their  share  in  the  defense 
of  Sebastopol  was  a  modest  one,  but  it  consisted,  neverthe- 
less, of  eleven  mouths' arduous  service  in  the  casemates  of 
the  MalakhotT  and  the  Redan,  during  which  time  two  of 
their  number  were  seriously  disabled.  Novikoff  made  the 
finest  record  of  all  by  creeping,  unperceived  during  a  fog, 
close  to  the  advance  ranks  of  the  British,  opposite  the 
Redan  fort,  late  in  June  of  1855,  and  discovering  the  pickets 


THE   FOUR   CABIN    BUYS. 


asleep.  He  promptly  returned  with  the  information,  and 
this  enabled  the  besieged  to  make  a  successful  sally,  re- 
Milting  in  the  capture  of  forty  Englishmen. 

Farasionk  and  Rinitzik  were  engaged  in  the   Malakhoff 
Jcri    in    i  he   transport  of  munitions,  but  during  the  great 


bombardment  in  June  18th  they  were  suddenly  called  to 
help  man  a  fifty-pound  gun,  and  performed  this  duty  with 
such  pluck  and  fortitude  that  Admiral  Nakhimoff  person- 
ally complimented  them,  and  promised  them  the  Cross  of 
Merit.  The  final  assault  on  the  fortress,  which  culminated 
in  its  capture,  saw  the  boys  on  the  ramparts  one  night, 
almost  in  the  front  ranks  of  the  defenders.  Two  of  them, 
Robert  and  Farasiouk,  had  just  recovered  from  wounds  re- 
ceived three  weeks  earlier.  They  had  been  sent  to  the 
Redan  fort  to  aid  in  the  establishment  of  a  lazeretto,  and, 
when  the  English  rather  unexpectedly  appeared  on  the 
parapets  in  great  force,  every  available  man  among  the  de- 
fenders, including  even  the  hospital  assistants,  rushed  to 
the  front.  The  overwhelming  defeat  of  Colonel  Wynd- 
ham's  columns  was  due  to  the  desperate  bravery  of  the 
Redan's  defenders,  who,  though  greatly  outnumbered, 
fought  like  demons.  The  four  cabin-boys  were  in  the  thick 
of  the  fight,  Novikoff  especially  distinguishing  himself  by 
deftly  tripping  up  an  English  lieutenant,  and  forcing  him 
at  the  pistol's  po^int  to  surrender  his  sword. 

At  the  conclusion  of  peace,  among  the  first  to  benefit 
from  the  imperial  good-will  and  gratitude  were  the  four 
sailor  lads.  The  Emperor  pinned  a  gold  medal  on  each 
boy's  breast,  and  took  them  under  his  special  protection. 
Although  they  were  of  humble  birth,  he  placed  them  in  the 
School  of  Naval  Cadets  at  St.  Petersburg,  and  launched 
them  on  an  honorable  career  in  the  service  of  their  coun- 
try. Three  of  them  lived  to  attain  the  rank  of  Captain  in 
the  Russian  navy.  The  fourth,  Farasiouk,  was  drowned 
shortly  after  his  promotion  to  lieutenant  in  the  very  harbor 
of  Sebastopol,  which  he  had  helped  so  bravely  to  defend. 


GREAT    MEN'S     SONS. 


BY    ELBRIDGE    S.  BROOKS. 


THE     SON     OF     CROMWELL. 

IN  tue  famous  old  English  village  of  St.  Ives — famous  be- 
cause of  a  certain  nursery  rhyme  concerning  a  man 
who,  travelling  toward  the  town,  met  seven  wives  with 
their  cats  and  kits — there  once  lived  a  farmer  who,  later 
in  his  life,  became  more  famous  than  St.  Ives  itself. 

Out  West  they  would  have  called  him  a  ranchman.  He 
was  really  a  cattle  farmer,  with  a  big  grazing  farm  that 
lay  along  the  river Ouse,  in  what  is  termed  "the  feu  coun- 
try "  of  England.  Here,  where  the  Ouse  slipped  thickly 
and  lazily  through  those  low,  green,  boggy,  marshy  fields 
called  the  feus,  this  farmer  raised  his  beef,  his  pork,  and 
his  mutton;  and  here  lived  his  son  Richard,  as  lazy  and 
sluggish  of  nature  as  the  river  along  whose  banks  he 
lounged  or  fished  or  wandered  as  a  boy,  until  it  was  time 
to  send  him  off  to  Felsted  School,  in  Essex,  where  his 
brothers,  before  and  after  him,  were  placed  for  such  edu- 
cation  as  those  days  provided. 

A  slow,  good  -  Matured,  easy  -going  fellow  was  this  boy 
Dick — "lazy  Dick,"  his  father  often  called  him.  He  was 
neither  as  bright  in  mind  or  manner  as  his  younger  brother 
Harry,  nor  as  promising  a  lad  as  his  elder  brother  Robert. 
Robin  was  what  this  elder  brother  was  called;  he  was  the 
delight  and  hope  of  his  fond  father — then  called  by  his 
neighbors  "  the  Lord  of  the  Fens,"  because  of  the  stand  he 
took  against  the  King's  threatened  "improvement"  of  the 
marshy  fen-lands.  To-day  the  world  honors  and  revers 
that  sturdy  farmer  of  the  fens  as  Britain's  mightiest  man — 
Oliver  Cromwell,  Lord  Protector  of  the  Commonwealth  of 
England. 

We  catch  afe\v  glimpses — not  many,  unfortunately — of 
the  quiet  home  at  St.  Ives,  in  which  the  Cromwell  boys  and 
girls  lived.  It  was  a  happy  and  united  home,  blessed  with 
a  mother  whom  her  children  revered,  and  having  as  its 
bend  a  father  they  honored  and  never  dared  to  disobey. 

But  fathers  in  those  days — two  hundred  and  fifty  years 
and  more  ago — though  stern  iu  their  ways  with  children, 


956 


HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE 


were  as  fond  and  as  loving  as  are  the  fathers  of  to-day 
and  Cromwell  the  farmer,  Cromwell  the  General,  Cromwell 
the  Lord  Protector,  loved  Ms  children  dearly,  and  labored 
for  their  good  alike  in  the  great  palace  at  Whitehall  as  in 
the  low,  timber-framed  house  upon  the  one  street  of  St. 
Ives,  where  the  willows  shivered  in  the  wind,  and  the  cattle 
grazed  and  fattened  upon  the  wide  marshy  meadows  that 
lined  the  sluggish  0-use. 

How  little  Dick  Cromwell  fared  as  a  boy  at  St.  Ives  we 
have  little  means  of  knowing.  When  he  was  ten  years 
old — in  the  year  1636— the  Cromwells  moved  into  a  bigger 
house  at  Ely,  fifteen  miles  away.  It  was  called  Ely  from 
the  eels  that  wriggled  about  in  the  muddy  Ouse,  and  is 


things  that  have  come  down  to  us,  we  know  how  his  busy 
father,  who  was  as  ambitions  for  his  hoys  as  all  fathers  are, 
had  but  little  patience  with  lazybones  :iny\\  here,  and  re- 
proved boy  Dick  for  his  carelessness  as  lie  found  fault  with 
young  Mr.  Dick,  in  later  years,  for  his  shiftless  ways. 

Troublesome  times  came  to  England.  The  people  rose 
in  defence  of  their  rights.  The  King  tell.  The  throne-  and 
crown  were  abolished.  The  Parliament  bent  before  the 
iron  will  of  the  people's  champion,  and  from  the  Captain 
of  a  troop  and  the  General  of  an  army  the  determined 
farmer  of  the  fens  took  the  helm  and  steered  his  country 
through  reefs  and  breakers,  until,  under  the  leadership  of 
Oliver  Cromwell,  the  commonwealth  of  England  became 


RICHARD    PREFERRED    HUNTING    TO    POLITICS. 


that  famous  cathedral  town  of  the  feus  where  King  Canute, 
who  tried  to  order  back  the  tide,  once  bade  his  rowers  stop 
his  boat  that  he  luight  hear  the  monks  of  the  cathedral 
slug. 

Probably  boy  Dick  thought  more  of  bobbing  for  eels  in 
the  Ouse  than  of  King  Canute  and  the  monks;  for  there 
were  no  monks  singing  in  England  when  Richard  Cromwell 
was  a  boy.  There  was  soon  to  be  no  King  in  England, 
either,  and  in  that  great  uprising  against  principalities 
and  powers  Dick  Cromwell's  lather  was  to  bear  an  impor- 
tant part. 

We  would  like  to  know  more  of  Richard  Cromwell's  boy- 
hood. We  would  like  to  know  how  he  lived  and  what  he 
did  as  a  small  boy  on  that  cattle  turm  among  the  feus  at 
St.  Ives,  and  at  the  more  spacious  homestead  in  the  shadow 
of  the  great  gray  towers  of  Ely  Cathedral.  We  would  like 
to  know  whether  he  liked  sport,  as  most  boys  do,  or  whether 
he  was  too  lazy  to  exert  himself  at  play.  We  would  like 
to  know  how  he  studied,  and  what  he  learned  at  the  Free 
Grammar  School  at  Felsted,  where,  one  after  the  other, 
four  of  the  Cromwell  boys  were  sent;  whether  he  loved 
football  as  much  as  his  father  did,  and  became  a  champion 
full-back  as  his  father  did  when  he  was  a  boy. 

I  am  afraid  Richard  Cromwell  was  just  as  careless  at  his 
books  as  at  the  hirer  duties  that  came  to  him ;  for,  from 


the  first  power  in  Europe,  unconquerable  on   the  land,  in- 
vincible on  the  sea. 

Step  by  step  Cromwell  rose  to  power.  Against  his  own 
desire  he  rose,  the  one  strong  man  in  England.  And,  as  he 
advanced,  his  family  rose  with  him  into  notice  and  position. 
One  by  one  the  older  boys  died.  Robert,  a  promising  lad  of 
seventeen,  died  at  Felsted  School;  Oliver,  the  second  son. 
named  for  his  father  and  a  Captain  in  the  cavalry,  died  just 
before  the  great  victory  of  Marstou  Moor,  and  Richard 
Cromwell  thus  became  the  eldest  living  son,  heir  to  the 
estates,  successor  in  po\\  er.  but  never  heir  to  1  he  fame  I  hat 
his  mighty  father  attained. 

For  there  was  in  "lazy  Dick"  nothing  of  his  father's 
masterful  manner  or  genius  in  leadership,  nothing  of  the, 
display  and  vast  hospitality  that  made  famous  his  ancestor, 
known  us  "the  Golden  Knight  of  lliiicliinUrook,"  nothing 
of  the  dash  and  daring  that  marked  his  more  remote  an- 
cestor, "  Diamond  Dick,"  who  unhorsed  all  his  rivals  at  a 
tournament,  and  so  defended  the  kind's  colors  that  the 
pleased  monarch,  bluff  King  Henry  the  Kighth.  called  the 
victorious  champion  his  "  diamond." 

\\  e  are  iven  certain  that  Richard  Cromwell  fought 

in  the  wars  againsi  the  King,  as  did  hishrothci  0 

Henry.      We  cannot  tind  thai  he  desired  cit  her  the  position 

or  prominence  that  his  father's  rise  to  grc:i 


957 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Richard  Cromwell  cared  only  to  live  and  die  a  quiet,  inof- 
fensive, lazy  country  .squire.  At  any  other  time  in  the 
history  of  the  world  he  might  easily  have  lived  unknown, 
iinhonnred,  and  unsung.  It  was  his  father's  fame  that 
brought  him  into  notice;  it  was  because  he  had  neither 
tin1  «ill. the  inclination,  nor  the  ability  to  take  up  his 
father's  work,  and  carry  it  forward  for  the  greatness  and 
glory  of  England,  that  to-day  the  world  holds  in  such 
•slight  esteem  this  quiet  sou  of  Cromwell. 

We.  should  not  blame  people  for  not  doing  what  they 
cannot  do.  It  may  In-,  indeed,  that  "lazy  Dick"  was  not 
shiftless,  though  he  was  lazy,  nor  a  numbskull  simply  be- 
cause he  was  not  great.  Richard  Cromwell  liked  to  take 
tilings  easy;  he  hated  tube  bothered:  he  liked  to  keep  out 
of  trouble,  and  was  willing  to  let  the  world  wag  as  it 
would  so  long  as  he  had  a  comfortable  home  and  nothing 
particular  to  do. 

There  is  nothing  really  bad  in  this;  but  boys  and  men 
of  that  stamp,  you  kuow,  never  help  the  world  along.  And 
I  am  afraid  that  "lazy  Dick,"  notwithstanding  all  his  op- 
portunities and  the  high  position  to  which  he  was  finally 
advanced,  never  did  anything  to  help  the  world  along. 
If  a  good  thing  came  iu  his  way  he  took  it,  enjoyed  it 
if  he,  could,  and  got  out  of  it  if  it  proved  troublesome  and 
laborious. 

When  he  was  twenty  his  father  tried  to  make  him  a 
lawyer ;  but  he  soon  dropped  that  profession.  He  offered 
him  a  command  in  the  army,  but  Dick  seems  never  to  have 
accepted  it.  When  he  was  twenty-three  he  married  a  nice 
girl  in  Hampshire.  Oliver  Cromwell  loved  her  dearly,  but 
he  and  her  father  had  their  hands  full  trying  to  make 
Dick  "  toe  the  mark." 

Whenever  he  could,  Richard  Cromwell  would  slip  away 
from  the  work  his  father  wished  him  to  do  and  go  out 
hunting,  or  have  a  good  time  with  other  rich  do-nothings 
at  his  Hampshire  farm.  He  disliked  the  almost  kingly 
court  of  his  father  at  Whitehall  Palace,  and  though  sent  to 
Parliament,  he  did  little  and  said  less.  And  when  he  was 
made  one  of  his  father's  chief  advisers — a  privy  councillor 
— his  counsels  amounted  to  nothing,  and  his  position  was 
simply  what  politicians  call  a  sinecure. 

When,  at  last,  his  great  father's  life  went  out,  and  Eng- 
land was  left  without  a  head,  Richard  Cromwell  was 
named  as  his  successor,  and  made  Lord  Protector.  Lazy 
Dick  became  King  of  England,  without  the  title,  but  with 
more  of  power  than  many  a  King  before  and  after  him 
possessed. 

But  he  had  neither  the  skill  nor  the  sense  to  hold  what 
the  people  had  given  him.  I  doubt  if  he  cared  either  for 
the  place  or  the  power.  And  they  were  his  but  a  short 
time.  Dissatisfaction  broke  into  revolt.  The  nation  was 
divided.  The  King  came  to  his  own  again.  Charles  the 
Second  was  placed  upon  the  throne  from  which  his  father 
had  been  hurled,  and  Richard  Cromwell,  without  a  word 
of  protest,  without  striking  a  blow  for  his  power,  stepped 
quietly  down  from  the  Lord  Protector's  chair  his  father 
had  set  up,  and  slipped  back  into  private  life,  too  weak  to 
be  defended  by  his  friends,  too  insignificant  to  be  perse- 
cuted by  his  foes. 

He  lived  to  be  an  old,  old  man,  and  died  at  eighty -six 
amid  his  rose-gardens  at  Cheshuut,  near  London,  nnhonored 
and  disregarded  by  the  England  his  father  had  liberated, 
but  which  the  sou  was  too  weak  to  uphold  as  a  free  com- 
monwealth. 

We  must  not  be  too  hard  on  "  lazy  Dick."  He  had  not 
a  spark  of  greatness  in  him,  and  should  not  be  blamed  for 
failing  to  maintain  his  father's  glory.  It  is  a  hard  thing 
for  a  small  son  to  live  up  to  the  fame  of  a  great  father. 
And  yet  the  world  does  not  take  lack  of  ability  into  ac- 
count. Richard  Cromwell  to-day  has  no  place  in  the 
world's  esteem.  His  name  lives  because  he  was  his  father's 
sou;  because  he  was  a  failure'  where  his  father  had  been  a 
success;  and  because  his  life  was  so  sad  and  stupid  a 
sequel  to  the  people's  stand  for  liberty  in  the  days  made 
glorious  in  English  history  by  the  might  and  power,  the 
grandeur  and  manliness,  the  strength  and  patriotism  of 
England's  greatest  man — Oliver  Cromwell,  great  father  of 
a  small  son. 


ITS   MEANING. 

(Tommii  loq.) 

UPON  the  quiet  river, 
Enamelled  and  serene, 
Great  flakes  of  oil  are  floating 
In  bine  and  pink  and  green. 

"They  look  like  maps  all  colored 

In  my  geography, 
Blue  China,  and  green  Ireland, 
And  pink  Algiers  I  see. 

"And  still  I  think  the  meaning 

Of  all  this  oil  I've  found  ; 
It's  this — a  school  of  sardines 
Right  here  is  swimming  round." 


THE  WATERMELON   TIDE. 

BY  EARLE  TRACY. 

rTUIE  great  still  tide  that  comes  from  the  Gnlf  when  no 
A  one  is  expecting  it  reached  up  through  the  marshes 
one  summer  night,  and  spread  itself  over  the  banks  of  the 
bayou,  and  found  numberless  things  in  places  of  safety,  and 
when  it  was  ready  to  go  out  again  it  took  them  along. 

Among  its  discoveries  was  a  schooner- load  of  water- 
melons, about  which  Captain  Lazare  and  the  boss  of  the 
big  farm  had  disagreed  so  radically  that  the  melons  had 
been  left  in  a  pile  on  the  lauding  to  wait  for  other  trans- 
port. The  tide  charged  itself  with  them,  and  when  morn- 
ing broke  they  were  on  their  way  to  New  Orleans. 

Bascom  had  been  tossing  in  his  sleep  as  the  little  Mi/xtrni 
did  when  the  tide  went  in  one  direction  along  Potosi  Chan- 
nel and  the  wind  went  in  the  other.  With  the  first  glim- 
mer of  light  he  was  up  and  down  at  the  beach. 

"Me,  but  it's  been  high,"  he  gasped,  coming  up  from  his 
first  plunge  and  leaning  back  in  the  water  as  if  it,  were  a, 
steamer-chair.  "It  would  be  beautiful  to  run  out  with 
in  the  Mystery — an'  me  goin'  to  pick  figs  all  day  iu  them 
dumb  ole  trees!  I  wish  the  canning  factory  would  bust!" 

Bascom  was  ready  for  the  hardest  kind  of  work  at  sea, 
but  things  on  shore  were  unutterably  lifeless  to  him,  and 
how  Captain  Tony  could  have  contracted  to  sell  his  figs  in- 
stead of  letting  the  birds  take  care  of  them  was  past  Bas- 
com's  understanding. 

While  he  was  floating  and  thinking  mournfully  of  the 
figs,  one  of  the  watermelons  struck  him  softly  on  the  cheek. 
He  bounded  clear  out  of  the  water  with  fright,  and  as  he 
made  for  shore  another  melon  came  up  under  him  and  sent 
him  pelting  through  the  shoals.  He  was  not  followed,  and 
when  he  felt  grass  under  his  feet,  aud  realized  that  he  had 
fled  shoreward  for  safety  aud  that  he  had  not  been  hurt  at 
all,  he  felt  very  queer. 

"If  they  was  popusses  they'd  be  a-splashiu',"  he  reason- 
ed; "an"  if  they  was  sharks  they'd  have  eaten  me — least- 
ways they  wouldn't  have  beeu  so  polite  about  lettiu'  rue 
excuse  myse'f.  I  wonder  what  they  is  ?" 

He  moved  gingerly  into  the  deep  water  again,  and  at  last 
swam  ont  to  investigate.  He  could  see  two  or  three  dark 
round  surfaces  letting  the  tide  sway  them  easily  away  from 
shore.  At  his  approach  they  neither  dived  nor  turned  to 
attack  him.  "They  mighty  tame,"  said  Bascom, laying  his 
hand  on  one.  "They — they's  watermelons!" 

"Where  did  you  come  from?"  he  asked,  taking  the  near- 
est iu  his  arms.  "What  po'  dumb  idiot  let  you  get  away 
like  this?  Did  you  ax  permission  to  come  here  visitin'  me? 
I'm  mighty  glad  to  see  you,  anyways.  You's  jus'  who  1  was 
a-thinkiu'  of." 

He  capered  round  them  for  a  while,  then  gathered  them 
all  in  a  line  within  his  arm.  They  were  too  many  for  him, 
but  the  wrestle  to  keep  them  from  bobbing  over  or  under 
and  getting  away  was  sheer  delight.  "Three  melons!"  he 
repealed:  "cooled  in  this  high  tide!  Three  of'em!  What'll 
Captain  Tony  say?" 

He  was  so  interested  in  thinking  of  Captain  Tony's  sur- 
prise that  the  outside  melon  escaped  from  him,  and  he  conld 
not  get  it  again  without  losing  the  other  two. 

"  I'll  come  back  for  you," he  promised;  "you  can't  go  far 


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HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


'thontcn  yciur  fins  grow."  He,  took  the  other  two  and  put 
them  under  a  clump  of  palmettoes,  where  they  would  make 
no  new  acquaintances  while  he  was  gone.  "Don't  know 
as  anybody  else  is  .up,"  he  said;  "but  they  might  lie.  It 
was  a  terrible  hot  night." 

As  he  waded  out  again  over  the  sharp  oyster-shells  the 
sky  had  grown  blue  instead  of  gray,  and  a  brightness 
sprang  across  the  water,  touching  hundreds  and  hundreds 
of  glistening  green  watermelons  undulating  with  the  fall- 
ing tide. 

Baseom's  heart  stood  still.  He  stopped  right  where  he 
was,  and  his  browu  face  grew  tense  with  round-eyed  won- 
der. The  water  lapped  against  his  breast.  He  almost  let 
it  take  him  off  bis  feet.  "I  knowed  they  was  called  water- 
melons," be  said,  slowly,  "but  I  never  caught 'em  growing 
iu  the  water  by  night  before.  How's  wegoin'  to  get  Vm  in  .'" 

He  looked  from  the  melons  toward  the  shore,  where  Cap- 
tain Tony's  long  seine  bung  on  the  poles  beside  the  sub- 
merged pier.  "  Usses  can  haul 'em  in, "he  said. 

Although  it  was  exceedingly  early  there  was  no  time  to 
lose.  It  would  take  two  good  hours  to  get  the  melons  in, 
and  the  people  on  the  bay  would  he  only  too  glad  to  help 
in  the  rescuing  as  soon  as  they  woke  up.  "Folkses  is  al- 
ways so  interested  iu  what  I  Hud,"  Bascom  grumbled;  but 
for  once  no  one  troubled  him.  He  roused  Captain  Tony, 
and  they  hitched  the  net  between  two  boats  and,  row  ing 
apart,  circled  around  the  melons  with  it,  gathering  them  in, 
until  they  were  fairly  rafting  them  before  it  toward  the 
shore.  The  net  bulged  in  a  great  crescent,  and  Bascom 
could  hardly  keep  his  boat  abreast  of  the  Captain's.  The 
weight  they  were  towing  made  it  seem  as  if  his  oars  were 
pulling  through  stiff  clay.  No  net  ou  all  the  coast  had 
ever  had  such  a  full  haul  before.  Bascom  and  the  Captain 
exulted  in  it, even  while  their  faces  grew  scarlet. 

"We  can'd  take  iu  anoder  one,"  the  Captain  declared; 
"  de  uet  cau'd  Stan'  de  strain."  And  closing  together  as 
much  as  the  mass  between  them  would  permit,  they  pulled 
ashore  and  rolled  the  melons  out  in  a  line  upon  the  beach. 
The  tide  was  going  out  so  fast  that  each  haul  made  a  sepa- 
rate rank  farther  aud  farther  out  from  the  high  drift-mark 
in  the  grass. 

It  was  glorious  hard  work,  aud  before  it  was  finished  the 
suu  bad  turned  the  water  violet,  then  red,  then  gold  and 
blue,  and  yet  uo  one  had  come  to  take  a  share  in  the  sal- 
vage, and  uo  one  had  come  to  claim  the  melons.  "  I  tell 
you," said  Bascom,  as  he  wheeled  the  last  barrow-load  up 
from  the  beach — "  I  tell  yon  they's  mascots,  and  they's  come 
right  in  from  the  deep  sea.  Do  you  reckon  they's  too 
many  of 'em  for  usses  to  eat ,  f" 

The  Captain  straightened  himself,  and  measured  the 
heap  of  cracked  melons,  which  he  had  left  out  as  he  piled 
the  good  oues  symmetrically  under  one  of  the  live-oaks. 
"Yo'  boy,"  he  said,  "if  yo'  jus'  made  way  wid  de  busted 
oues  I'd  be  paintin'a  black  ring  rouu'de  mas' of  de  little 
Mystery  'fo'  sunset,  an'  w'ad  would  I  do  'bond  pickiu'  de  figs 
faw  de  cannin'  factm  \  .'" 

"  0-h-h,"  groaued  Bascom,  "  I'd  forgot  about  the  figs. 
Cau't  they  wait  till  we  take  these  melous  off  iu  the  Mystery 
aud  sell  'em  ?" 

"  De  melous  cau  waid,  ya-as,  now  we  got  dem  all  safe," 
said  the  Captain.  "  De  cracked  oues  will  not  keep  uoway, 
an'  de  good  oues  will  las'  bettah  dan  de  tigs.  An'  w'ad  is 
mo'  to  de  point,  dere  is  de  ownah  of  de  melous  to  consult." 

"But  he  isu't  here," Bascom  said,  "  an'  wo  don't  know 
where  he  is.  They  didn't  bring  his  address  with 'em  when 
they  come  in  ou  the  tide." 

"I  reckon  I  kuow  his  address,"  the  Captain  answered, 
"an' maybe  yo' would,  also,  if  yo' let  yo'se'f  t'iuk 'bond  id. 
De  big  tide  washed  dem  offde  landiu'  up  de  bayou.  Lazare 
wasa-tellin'me  ycstahday  dat  he  an' de  boss  ad  de  big  fahm 
had  a  quahl  boud  de  price  o'  melous,  an'  Lazare,  who  was  to 
have  take  dem  in  de  Alphoualne,  he  go  off  mad,  an'  de  melons 
dey  stay  iu  a  pile  on  de  landiu',  au'  I  was  t'iukiu'  bond  goiu' 
up  to  see  de  boss  me  aftah  de  tigs  was  pick'.  I  reckon  now 
de  bes'  way  is  faw  me  to  go  ad  ouce  while  yo'  pick  de  fi 

"  But  we  ought  to  start  right  now  while  the  tide  is  goiu' 
out, "objected  Bascom. 

"  Dere  will  be  oder  tides,  au'  dey  is  waitiu'  faw  de  figs  ad 


de  factory."  said  the  Captain.  ••  so  I  t'ink  yo' bettah  go  to 
pickiu',  boy  ";  and  without  slopping  f,,r  I'm  iher  persuasion 
from  Itasi-oi.i  he  ^oi  into  his  skiff  and  headed  toward  the 
mouth  of  Bayou  Porto. 

As  Bascom  carried  the  last  of  the  melons  to  a. Id  to 
heap  il  slipped  limn  liis  hands  accidentally,  and  split  into 
licb  red  pieces  ou  the,  sand.  ••  I'-m."  he  said;  "lucky  it 
was  a  cracked  one."  He  took  it  up  to  eat  it  in  the  shade 
of  the  live-oak.  "Too  bad,"  he  added,  "  after  you  was  so 
euterprisin'  to  start  out.  by  yourse'f  that  me  an'  Captain 
Tony  couldn't  agree  to  take  you  right  along.  Queer  how 
folkses  can't  agree  'bout  you.  It' it  wasn't  for  them  dumb 
ole  figs!  S'pose  when  I'm  done,  cat  in"  I  i/ul  to  ^o  up  an' 
go  to  pickin'.  Seems  like  such  a  sailor  as  Captain  Tony 
hadn't  ought  to  fuss  with  things  ou  shore." 

His  arms  were  aching  from  the  heavy  pull,  and  they  did 
not  feel  drawn  toward  the  sticky  rigs,  and  mud  daiihcis 
were  sure  to  be  in  the  trees  ready  to  sting  interfering  peo- 
ple, and  he  had  not  finished  with  the  melon  when  Peter 
Pierre,  or  Peter  I'm',  as  the  Creoles  pronounce  it,  came 
hopping  leisurely  along  the  beach,  with  one  leg  wrapped 
around  the  other  like  a  stork's.  He  was  a  neighbor's  boy. 
and  had  been  seut  to  borrow  Captain  Tony's  axe.  There 
would  be  no  morning  coffee  at  his  house  until  Captain 
TOH\  's  axe  had  chopped  wood  enough  to  build  a  tire. 
"  H-o !"  said  Peter  Peer. 
"  H-o !"  replied  Bascom. 

"Whose  is  dose  melons?"  cried  Peter  Peer.  •' Wheah 
did  dey  come  from  ?" 

"  Came  down  the  bayou,"  said  Bascom.     "They's  mine. 
Mine  an'  ( 'aptaiu  Tony's." 
"  Gimme  one?" 
"Nop,"said  Bascom. 
"Sell  one?" 

"N-nop,  I  reckon  not.    They  ain't  so  many  as  they  look." 
"  Heap  o'  cracked  ones,"  said  Peter  Peer.     "  I'll  trade  \  o1 
my  play  boat  faw  one." 

"Eatin'  the  cracked  ones,"  said  Bascom,  taking  another 
mouthful;  "they's  mighty  sweet." 

"Yo'  cau'd  eat  dem  all!"  cried  Peter  Peer,  his  eyes  roll- 
ing hungrily  from  side  to  side. 

"Look  a-here,  kid,"  said  Bascom;  "if  you  want  one  so 
bad  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  I'll  let  you  pick  figs  for  'em. 
I  was  want-in'  to  pick  'em  myse'f,  but  it  looks  like  I  got  to 
stay  aud  take  charge  of  these.  I'll  give  you  a  cracked 
melon  for  every  basket  of  figs  you  pick." 

"All  right,"  said  Peter  Peer;  "gimme  de  basket." 
Bascom  gave  him  a  corner  of  melon  to  seal  the  bargain 
and  keep  the  basket  from  looking  too  huge,  and  Peter  Peer 
was  soon  whistling  in  the  trees  behind  the  Captain's  house. 
Bascom  bad  scarcely  settled  himself  under  the  live-oak 
wheu  Sonny  Ladnier  and  his  younger  brother  came  iu  sight 
with  their  red-sailed  cat-boat,  bent  on  au  early  trip  to 
Potosi.  They  saw  the  pile  of  melons,  and  it  drew  them 
like  an  undertow. 

"Wheah  yo'  ged  all  dem  melous  f"  they  shouted. 
"Crowed  'em,"  replied  Bascom;  "do  you  want  some  .'" 
"Yo'  bet  yo'!"  cried  Sonny,  tying  up  the  boat.     "Hand 
one  ovah." 
-What  for?" 

"Wat  faw-?     W'y.  to  eat." 

"I  mean,  what  will  von  give  me?"  Bascom  explained. 
"Two  bits  faw  two." 

Bascom  shook  his  head.     There    was   only  one   way   in 
which  those  melous  could  be  had.     After  some  argument 
Sonuy  and  his  little  brother  repaired  to  the  tig-trees 
with  a  chunk  of  melon  iu  one  hand  and  a  basket  in   the 
other.      Sonny   Ladnier    was  big   enough   to  have    tried   to 
bully  Bascom',  but  the  people  on  the  bay  bad  a  r.  sp. 
foudness  for  him,  not  to  mention  his  partner. 

During  the  hour.  Narcisse  I'ontaine,  big  Noel  1,'ou.et. 
Rubier  Peer,  who  came  to  look  tor  Peter,  and  Patrice  Kod- 
rigiiex,  with  his  pointed  beard  and  bis  reputation  for  duel- 
ling, added  themselves  to  I'.asco m's  force  behind  the  Cap- 
tain's house,  and  the  tigs  were  fairly  charmed  from  the 
trees.  Bascom  did  not  think  it  sale  to  h-a\e  the 

or  more  than  a  moment  at  a  time,  and  be  was  - 
alone  beside  it,  aud  had  ju.«t  cleaved  open  the  crack  of  a 


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HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"MAKE    'BM    PICK    YOUR    FIGS!"    HE    SHOUTED 

long  striped  "  rattlesnake,"  when  a  strange  schooner  passed 
by  a  length  or  two,  then  came  about,  and  anchored  off  the 
point.  She  was  the  Luna  May,  from  Pass  Christian,  and 
he  had  never  seen  her  before.  As  three  men  got  down  in 
her  tender  he  could  hear  their  voices  as  plainly  as  if  they 
were  talking  to  him. 

"  'Cose  dey  sell  dem.     Wat  dey  have  detn  faw  ?" 

"  Bud  we  got  no  money.     We  speu'  it  all  las'  night." 

"We  cau  trade  'im  out  of  some.  I  give  my  kuife  faw 
one  o'  dem  big  ones.  It's  a  terrib'  hot  day.  Dat  little 
chap  be  mighty  easy  to  bargain  wid.  Yo'  see." 

"You  see,"  echoed  Bascom,  chuckling,  as  they  left  their 
skiff,  and  came  sauntering  up  to  him.  "  Somethiu'  I  can 
do  for  you  geiitleuians  to-day?"  he  inquired. 

"  Whose  is  dese  melons  ?"  asked  the  first  schooner-man. 

"Mine,  jus'  now,"  said  Bascom. 

"  Aw,  get  away." 

"Well,  they  is." 

"Den  I  reckou  yo'  lookiu'  faw  a  chance  to  get  rid  o' 
some  o'  dem." 

"Not  as  I  knows  on,"  Bascom  said. 

"W'at?"  cried  the  second  schooner-man.  "I'll  give  yo' 
dis."  He  took  out  a  big  Spanish  pocket-knife  that  opened 
with  a  spring.  "  Yo'  can  have  it  faw  free  of  dem." 

"I  don't  reckon  I  need  any  knife,"  B;iscom  said. 

"Aw,"  said  the  third  schooner-man,  impatiently,  "a  lot 
of  dem  is  good  faw  not'ing.  He  got  to  give  us  some.  If 
he  ain't  got  de  sense  to  trade  faw  dem  we  take  dem." 

He  spread  Bascom  out  swiftly  with  his  hands,  and  sat 
down  on  him,  directing  his  mates  to  pile  melons  in  their 
skiff.  After  the  first  instant  Bascom  did  not  offer  the 
slightest  resistance.  He  lay  gathering  breath  against  the 
weight  of  the  man  on  his  chest,  and  when  he  was  quilt'  sun- 
of  himself  he  let  it  out  again  in  a  terrific  howl  for  help. 
The  man  clapped  a  hand  on  his  mouth,  but  Bascom  had  no 
need  to  speak  again.  A  posse  of  men  and  boys  came  dash- 
ing round  the  lionsr.  some  of  them  putting  down  the  bask- 
ets, and  others  brandishing  sticks  as  they  ran. 

The  schooner-men  jumped  into  iheir  skill',  but  Patrice 
and  Knbier  and  Noel  and  Sonny  Ladnier  rushed  into  the 
water  afrer  them,  and  brought  them  back.  A  dozen  hands 
rescued  the  stolen  melons,  while  with  Irish  expletives  and 
Creole  fierceness  Patrice  pounded  the  biggest  man  as  a  pre- 
paration to  bidding  them  good-by.  The  crowd  was  following 
hisexample,  audit  would  have  gone  hard  with  the  strangers 
if  Bascom  had  not  had  a  different  mind. 


'MAKE    'EM    PICK    YOUR    FIGS!" 


"Make  'em  pick 
your  figs!"  he  shout- 
ed. "Make 'em  pick 
your  figs!  They'll 
look  handsome  in 
the  trees  !  Make  'em 
pick  for  you  !" 

The  cry  found  fa- 
vor, and  the  ver- 
dict became,  "  If  yo' 
want  to  go  free  yo' 
got  to  pick  de 
h'gs!" 

When  Captain 
Tony  and  the  boss 
of  the  big  farm  ap- 
proached the  point, 
and  saw  a  strange 
schooner  anchored 
there,  the  Captain 
felt  anxious.  "I 
hope  de  boys  not 
bavin'  trouhl',"  he 
said.  "  I  don'  see 
w'at  dat  boat  wan' 
stop  dere  faw." 

As  they  landed, 
Bascom  met  them 
and  explained. 

"  I've  got  the  crew 
of  that  schooner 
pickiu'  tigs  for  me, 

an'  some  of  the  boys  from  round  here  is  watchiu'  that 
they  do  it  lively.  They  was  honiu'  for  some  cracked  water- 
melons, an'  I  thought  they'd  better  do  a  little  work,  seeiu' 
as  they  got  out  of  temper." 

The  boss  was  a  Northern  man.  He  looked  at  Bascom's 
agile  weather-beaten  figure,  and  they  all  went  round  to 
see  the  force  of  overseers  and  the  three  men  in  the  trees. 
"That's  about  the  way  I  have  to  work  it, "he  said.  "More 
overseers  than  men;  but  how  do  yours  manage  to  make 
the  men  work  so  lively  ?" 

"Ho!"  said  Bascom,  "easy  enough.  They're  workin'  by 
the  job.  Can't  go  till  they're  done." 

But  it  was  not  until  Patrice  told  why  the  strangers  sat 
so  glum  and  warm  and  active  in  the  trees  that  the  Captain 
and  the  boss  understood. 

"  Yo'  boy,"  said  the  Captain,  as  they  went  back  to  the 
melon-pile,  "an'  y«'  uevah  picked  a  fig  yo'se'f?" 

"Not  a  one,"  said  Bascom,  candidly.  "The  boys  came 
along  at  first  an'  wanted  to  pick  for  cracked  melons,  au' 
then  'bout  the  time  they  was  gettiu'  tired  this  schooner 
hove  in  sight.  After  I  begun  to  have  comp'uy,  looked  like 
it  was  best  for  me  to  watch  the  melons." 
"And  before?"  laughed  the  boss. 

"  I'd  had  the  misfortune  to  drop  one,"  Bascom  said.  "  It 
busted,  and  I  was  lookiu'  after  the  pieces." 

The  boss  clapped  Bascom  on  the  shoulder.  "  You're  the 
man  I've  been  hunting  for  down  here,"  be  declared.  "  Don't 
ycm  want  to  come  up  and  help  me  run  the  farmf" 

liascoin  looked  over  at  the  little  Mystery,  the  deep  bine 
of  the  bay,  and  the  tree  fringe  on  Deer  Island,  beyond  which 
lay  the  Gulf. 

"  I  reckon  they'd  have  to  be  a  mighty  long  calm,"  he  au- 
s\\  ered ;  "  wouldn't  they,  Cap'u  Tony?" 

"They  suah  would,"  the  Captain  agreed.  "In  sailin' 
weathah  me  an'  Bascom  mostly  sails." 

They  counted  the  melons  as  they  loaded  them  on  board 
the  Mystery, agreed  on  a  rate  of  salvage  and  a  price,  and 
arranged  for  future  dealings  as  the  crop  went  on.  The 
schooner-men  finished  their  work,  and  Bascom  paid  offtlic 
overseers  genernn.sly  ;  then  the  Mi/«ti'r>i  raced  the  Luiui  J/«// 
to  the  bridge. and  passed  through  first. 

'•  Well,"  sighed  Bascom,  when  they  had  left  the  figs  at 
the  canning-factory,  and  their  faces  were  turned  toward 
the  welcome  reaches  between  Potosi  and  New  Orleans,  "  if 
it  hadn't  a-been  for  that  honey  of  a  tide  I'd  be  up  in  them 
dumb  ole  trees  a-studyiu' 'bout  pickiu'  dem  tigs." 


960 


OAKLEIQH. 


BY   EL  LEX  DOUGLAS  DELAXD. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

IT  was  true,  then.     Neal  bad  gone. 
Cynthia  went  to  her  mother's  room  and  told  her  what 
Janet  had  said. 

••  It  is  what  I  feared,"  cried  Mrs.  Franklin  ;  "  he  has  left 
me  forever!  My  dear  and  only  brother!  And  where  is 
be  ?  Cynthia,  Cynthia,  why  did  he  go?  It  almost,  makes 
me  think  he  may  have  taken  the  money." 

"Mamma,  how  can  yon!"  exclaimed  Cynthia,  indignant- 
ly. "Neal  never  took  it.  I — I — oh,  I  knoir  hr  didn't  take 
it !  Can't  yon  believe  me,  mamma  ?"  She  was  crying. 

"Dear  child,"  said  Mrs.  Franklin,  looking  at  her  affec- 
tionately, "you  have  more  faith  in  him  than  I  have.  But 
this  running  away  is  so  much  against  him,  Cynthia.  If 
he  had  been  innocent,  would  he  not  have  braved  it  out?" 

"  No ;  he  is  so  proud,  mamma.  That  is  the  reason  he 
went,  I  am  sure.  He  thought  papa,  suspected  him.  Oh, 
why  did  papa  ever  think  it  ?  Why  did  he  say  anything  to 
Edith  for  Janet  to  hear?" 

"  Hush, dear.  Your  father  spoke  thoughtlessly,  hut  it  was 
natural ;  of  course  it  was  natural.  But  Neal  should  not 
have  gone.  It  is  a  false  kind  of  pride.  If  he  is  innocent 
he  should  have  the  pride  of  innocence  and  stay  here." 

It  was  what  they  all  said.  Cynthia  went  from  one  to 
the  other,  trying  to  convince  them  and  to  imbue  them,  with 
her  own  belief  in  Neal,  but  she  could  not.  Even  Jack,  her 
beloved  twin-brother,  was  on  the  other  side. 

"Of  course  I  want  to  believe  in  Neal,  Cynth,"  lie  said. 
"  I  like  him,  and  I  never  supposed  before  he'd  do  a  low- 


down  thing  like  this.  In  fact,  I  can't  really  believe  it  now. 
But  why  on  earth  did  tlie  fellow  rim  away  '  If  lie  e.-nne 
by  the  money  all  fair  and  square,  why  under  tint  sun  didn't 
he  say  so,  instrad  of  slum  in;;  himsrlf  ii|>  like  an  i>\stcr, 
and  never  letting  on  where  he  gut  il  .'" 

"He  had  his  reasons."  persisted  Cynthia.  "Oh.  .lark, 
can't  you  believe  me  .'  You  :ilwa\  s  used  I..  l>elie\e  me." 

"Well,  you  used  to  tell  a  fellow  more  ihaii  you  do  now. 
You  get  mighty  shut  up  yourself  now  and  then.  You 
won't  tell  me  what  you're  going  to  do  with  Aunt  Betsey's 
money,  or  why  you  didn't  buy  a  watch,  or  anything.  I'm 
sure  I  don't  want  you  to  if  you  don't  want  to,  but  there's 
no  reason  why  I  should  always  think  as  yon  do." 

If  they  had  not  been  sitting  side  by  side.  Jack  could  not 
.  have  failed  to  notice  the  peculiar  expression  that  came  into 
Cynthia's  face  when  he  mentioned  Aunt  Betsey's  present. 
They  were  on  the  stone  wall  which  crossed  the  river  path. 
Bob  was  with  them,  darting  hither  and  thither,  perhaps  in 
the  vain  hope  of  finding  his  master. 

"I  don't  need  a  watch,  I've  told  you  over  and  over 
again,"  said  Cynthia.  "But  oh,  Jack,  I  wish  you  would 
agree  with  nie !  Indeed,  Neal  is  honest." 

"I  believe  he  is  myself,  on  the  whole,"  said  Jack  at, 
last ;  "  but  it's  a  mighty  queer  thing  he  doesn't  own  up  and 
tell  where  he  got  that  money,  and  lie's  a  great  ass  not  to. 
You  see,  the  postmaster  thinks  that  perhaps  the  park:!-. 
did  come  from  Aunt  Betsey,  and  Xeal  paid  gold  just  a  few 
days  later.  Of  course  it  looks  queer." 

It  was  the  same  way  with  Edith.     She  would  not  be 


"OUGHT    I    TO    TELL?"    SUE    SAID    AGAIN    AND    AGAIN. 
961 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


convinced,  and  after  a  vain  argument  with  her  Cynthia  re- 
tired to  the  only  place  where  she  was  sure  of  being  un- 
disturbed, and  cried  until  her  eyes  smarted  and  her  head 
ached.  It  was  to  the  garret  that  she  went  when  she 
wished  to  be  alone,  and,  amid  the  piles  of  empty  paper 
boxes  and  bars  of  soap  and  all  the  varied  possessions  that 
were  stored  there,  she  sat  and  thought  over  the  matter. 

"Ought  I  to  tell  ?"  she  said  again  and  again,  speaking 
iu  a  hoarse  whisper.  "  Oh,  why  did  I  ever  promise  ?" 

For  Cvuthia  had  at  last  prevailed  upon  Neal  to  borrow 
her  money  to  pay  Brouson  with,  and  had  promised  that  she 
would  not  tell,  and  Cynthia  had  a  very  strict  sense  of  honor. 

"Ought  I  to  tell?"  she  repeated.  "No;  a  promise  is  a 
promise,  and  I  have  no  right  to  break  it.  I  was  silly,  I 
was  idiotic  ever  to  promise  such  a  thing,  bnt  how  did  I 
know  it  was  coming  out  this  way  ?  Perhaps  he  will  come 
back  soon  ;  then  I  can  make  him  tell." 

But  Neal  did  not  come  back.  lustead  of  that,  the  next 
morning  Mrs.  Franklin  received  a  letter  from  him.  He 
repeated  the  same  words.  He  could  not  stay  where  he 
was  insulted.  If  they  could  not  believe  him  he  would  go. 
He  had  a  perfect  right  to  use  the  money  which  he  had 
paid  for  the  money-order,  and  he  would  never  condescend 
to  explain  where  he  got  it.  He  was  visiting  a  friend  at 
present,  bnt  he  was  going  at  once  in  search  of  some  work. 
He  intended  to  support  himself  henceforth. 

It  was  a  very  absurd  letter,  and  it  made  Mr.  Franklin 
more  angry  than  ever  and  his  wife  more  distressed. 

"It  is  perfect  nonsense,"  said  he.  "The  boy  is  not  of 
age  and  he  can  be  stopped.  I  will  write  at  once  to  his 
guardians.  In  the  mean  time  we  will  look  him  up  in  Bos- 
ton ;  from  the  postmark  I  suppose  he  is  there." 

"  Oue  of  his  guardians  is  abroad,  and  the  other  is  that 
Quaker  cousin  of  my  mother's,"  sighed  Mrs.  Franklin. 

••  Give  me  his  address,  and  don't  worry,  Hester.  The 
affair  will  come  around  all  right,  I  have  no  doubt.  He  is 
a  headstrong  boy  and  he  needs  a  leash." 

They  could  not  find  him  in  Boston.  On  going  to  the 
houses  of  his  various  friends  there  the}'  learned  that  he 
had  spent  the  night  with  one  of  them,  but  had  left  to  go 
to  his  guardian  in  Philadelphia,  they  said. 

"I  am  inclined  to  let  it  stand  as  it  is," said  Mr.  Franklin, 
when  he  returned ;  "  if  he  has  gone  to  Philadelphia  let 
him  stay  there.  His  old  guardian  will  probably  keep  him 
in  better  order  than  we  can ;  perhaps  it  will  be  better  not 
to  interfere.  I  don't  want  to  prejudice  him  against  the 
boy,  and  yet  how  can  I  explain  why  he  left  here  ?  He  can 
tell  his  own  story." 

His  wife,  however,  wrote  a  letter  to  her  brother,  and  ad- 
dressed it  to  the  care  of  her  cousin,  William  Carpenter,  of 
Philadelphia.  She  hoped  for  an  answer,  but  none  came,  and 
iu  a  few  days  Mr.  Franklin  wrote  to  Mr.  Carpenter,  asking 
if  his  brother-in-law  had  arrived,  and  then,  without  wait- 
ing for  a  reply,  he.  concluded  to  go  himself  to  Philadelphia. 

The  following  Sunday  was  Easter  day — it  came  late  this 
year.  Cynthia,  sitting  iu  the  Franklin  pew,  saw  to  her  dis- 
may Tony  Bronson  on  the  other  side  of  the  church.  He 
was  with  the  Morgans. 

"  Dear  me,"  thought  Cynthia,  "there  will  be  more  trouble 
now  that  he  has  come,  for  he  will  tell  hateful  things  about 
Neal,  I'm  sure.  I  do  hope  Edith  won't  see  him." 

Her  thoughts  wandered  duriug  the  service.  When  it 
was  over,  and  the  congregation  streamed  out  of  church 
into  the  mild  spring  air,  the  Morgans  invited  Edith  to  come 
home  with  them  to  dinner.  This  she  agreed  to  do,  much 
to  her  sister's  disgust;  but  Cynthia  was  still  further  in- 
censed when  Edith  came  back  that  afternoon  and  an- 
nounced, in  a  wonld-be  careless  manner,  that  she  had  prom- 
ised to  drive  with  Tony  Bronson  the  next  day. 

"Why,  Edith!"  said  Cynthia,  indignantly  ;  "I  shouldn't 
think  you  would  have  anything  to  do  with  that  Bronsou. 
He  has  been  hateful  to  Neal." 

"  I  don't  know  why  you  should  say  that,"  returned  Edith  ; 
"any  one  would  say  that  he  had  been  exceedingly  nice  to 
Neal.  He  lent  him  all  that  money,  I'm  sure.  And,  be- 
sides, what  difference  does  it  make  ?  Neal  has  behaved 
badly  and  run  away.  There  is  no  reason  why  we  should 
give  up  people  that  Neal  doesn't  happen  to  like.  Papa 


said  the  other  day  that  Tony  Bronson  was  a  very  good  sort 
of  fellow,  because  he  wasn't  in  that  last  scrape  of  Neal's." 

"  Papa  doesn't  know  a  thing  about  him,  and,  at  any  rate, 
papa  wouldn't  let  you  go  to  drive  if  he  were  at  home.  You 
know  he  wouldn't." 

Mrs.  Franklin  came  into  the  room  just  at  this  moment. 

"Would  not  let  Edith  go  to  drive,  Cynthia?"  she  said. 
"What  do  you  mean,  dear?" 

"Go  to  drive  with  strange  men  like  that  Bronson." 

"  What  nonsense  !"  said  Edith,  crossly  ;  "  of  course  I  can 
go.  Papa  never  in  his  life  forbade  my  going  to  drive  with 
any  of  the  boys.  How  silly  you  are,  Cynthia!" 

"Were  yon  going  to  drive  with  Tony  Bronson,  Edith  ?" 
asked  her  stepmother. 

"  Yes,  I  am  going,  to-morrow." 

"I  think  I  agree  with  Cynthia,  then.  I  hardly  think 
your  father  would  wish  you  to  go." 

"  Why, how  perfectly  absurd!"  exclaimed  Edith,  growing 
very  angry.  "There  has  never  been  any  question  of  my 
going  to  drive  with  any  one  who  asked  me.  Do  you  sup- 
pose I  am  going  to  give  it  up  now  ?" 

"I  suppose  you  are,  Edith,"  said  Mrs.  Franklin,  quietly, 
but  with  decision.  "  In  your  father's  absence  you  are  In 
niy  charge,  and  I  do  not  consider  it  desirable  for  you  to 
drive  with  Mr.  Bronson,  nor  with  any  other  young  man 
whom  yon  know  so  slightly.  It  is  not  in  good  taste,  to  say 
the  least.  Please  oblige  me  by  giving  it  up  this  time.  If 
I  am  mistaken  in  your  father's  views  on  the  subject  you 
can  go  after  he  gets  home." 

"I  won't  give  it  up  !"  exclaimed  Edith,  hotly.  "Tony 
Brouson  will  be  gone  when  papa  gets  home,  and,  besides, 
what  can  I  tell  him  ?  I've  said  I  would  go." 

"It  is  always  possible  to  break  an  engagement  of  that 
kind, "said  her  mother;  "yon  can  tell  him  that  you  find  I 
have  made  other  plans  for  yon." 

"I  sha'n't  tell  him  any  such  thing,  Mrs.  Franklin.  I 
think  it  is  too  bad.  You  have  no  right  to  order  me." 

"  No  right,  Edith  ?  I  have  at  least  a  right  to  be  spoken 
to  with  respect,  and  you  will  oblige  me  by  doing  so.  Please 
send  a  note  to  Mr.  Brouson  by  the  man  to-night." 

She  left  the  room,  and  Cynthia,  who  had  restrained  her- 
self with  great  difficulty,  now  gave  vent  to  her  feelings. 

"I  don't  see  how  you  can  be  so  horrid  to  mamma,  Edith. 
What  are  you  thinking  of?  And  when  she  is  so  worried 
about  Neal,  too." 

"Neal!  Why  should  we  suffer  for  Neal?  She  has  no 
right  to  order  me ;  I  won't  be  treated  that  way.  The  idea 
of  it  not  being  in  good  taste  to  drive  with  Tony  Brouson  !" 

"Don't  be  so  absurd,  Edith.  Why,  even  I  know  papa 
wouldn't  want  you  to.  It's  very  different  from  going  with 
the  Brenton  boys  that  we  have  known  all  our  lives.  You 
think  I'm  such  an  infant,  but  I  know  that  much,  and  any 
other  time  you  would  yourself.  It  is  just  because  it  is  that 
hateful  Bronson.  I  can't  understand  what  yon  and  Ger- 
trude see  in  him.  You  are  both  so  silly  about  him." 

"  I  am  not  silly.  I  think  he  is  very  nice,  that's  all.  I 
wish  you  wouldn't  interfere,  Cynthia.  You  are  silly  to  have 
such  a  prejudice  against  him.  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to 
write  that  note,  and  I  do  hate  to  give  in  to  Mrs.  Franklin. 
Oh,  why,  why,  why  did  papa  marry  again  ?" 

She  raised  her  voice  irritably  as  she  said  this,  and  added: 

"All  this  fuss  about  Neal  and  everything!  We  never 
should  have  had  it  if  the  Gordons  hadn't  come  into  the 
family.  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,  I  didn't  see  you."  For 
standing  in  the  doorway  was  her  stepmother. 

"I  am  sorry  that  the  coming  of  the  Gordous  has  caused 
yon  so  much  trouble,  Edith.  We — we  are  unfortunate." 

She  turned  away  and  went  up  stairs. 

"Edith,!  don't  see  how  you  can,"  exclaimed  Cynthia. 
"Mamma  had  so  much  trouble  when  she  was  a  young  girl, 
and  she  was  so  alone  until  she  came  here,  and  now  all  this 
about  Neal.  Eeally,  I  don't  see  how  you  can." 

And  she  ran  after  her  mother. 

Edith,  left  alone,  was  a  prey  to  conflicting  emotions. 
She  knew  she  had  done  wrong — very  wrong.  She  was 
really  sorry  for  the  grief  that  Mrs.  Franklin  was  suffering 
on  Neal's  account,  and  she  had  not  wanted  to  hurt  her. 

"Of  course,  I  did  not  intend  her  to  hear  me.     How  did  I 


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HAKPER'S   EOUND   TABLE 


know  she  was  there?    It  makes  me  so  angry  to  thiuk  that 
I  can't  do  what  I  want." 

That  was  the  gist  of  the  whole  matter.  Edith  wanted 
her  own  way,  and  she  was  determined  to  have  it.  She  sat 
for  a  long  time,  thinking  it  all  over.  She  did  riot  make 
any  great  effort  to  quench  her  resentment,  and  so,  of  course, 
it  became  more  intense.  After  a  while  she  went  to  the  desk. 

"  I  simply  can't  write  him  that  I  won't  go,"  she  said  to 
herself.  "How  they  would  all  laugh  if  I  said  Mrs.  Frauk- 
lin  '  had  made  other  plans  for  me,'  as  if  I  were  Janet's  age  ! 
No, I'll  write  Gertrude  that  I'll  comedown  and  spend  the  day 
with  her,  and  perhaps  when  I  get  there  I  can  induce  Tony 
to  play  tennis,  or  something,  instead  of  going  to  drive.  I'll 
try  and  get  out  of  it,  as  long  as  I  must,  but  I'm  going  to 
have  a  good  time  of  some  sort." 

She  wrote  the  note,  and  it  was  sent  to  the  Morgans' that 
night.  Mrs.  Franklin  supposed,  of  course,  that  it  was  mere- 
ly to  give  up  the  drive ;  so  she  was  surprised  when  Edith 
announced  that  she  was  going  to  spend  the  next  day  with 
Gertrude.  However,  she  raised  no  objections,  nor  indeed 
did  she  have  any.  Her  mind  was  too  full  of  Neal  to  think 
of  much  else.  Even  tbe  altercation  with  Edith  failed  to 
make  any  lasting  impression.  Hester  longed  for  her  hus- 
band to  return  and  tell  her  what  he  had  learned. 

Cynthia  did  not  take  it  so  quietly. 

"I  think  you  are  a  goose,  Edith,"  she  said,  the  nest 
morning.  "Every  one  will  think  you  are  running  after 
Tony  Brousou.  You  were  there  to  dinner  yesterday,  and 
now  you  are  going  again  to-day." 

Edith  was  greatly  incensed. 

"I  am  not  running  after  him.  How  can  you  say  such 
things?  I  often  go  there  two  days  in  succession." 

And  she  went  off  holding  her  head  very  high,  being 
driven  to  the  village  by  Jack.  Arrived  at  the  Morgans', 
she  was  warmly  greeted  by  all. 

"  So  good  of  you  to  come,"  murmured  Brousou ;  "  now 
we  can  start  from  here  on  our  drive,  and  go  over  to  Blue 
Hill." 

"  I  think  I  can't  go  to  drive  to-day.  I — I  thought  per- 
haps we  could  play  tennis  instead." 

"Oh,  Miss  Edith!  After  your  promise?  I  am  not  go- 
ing to  let  yon  off  so  easily.  No,  indeed;  we  are  going  to 
drive.  It  is  a  flue  day,  and  I've  engaged  a  gay  little  mare 
at  the  livery -stable." 

Edith  remonstrated  feebly,  but  Bronson  would  not  listen. 

When  she  and  Gertrude  were  alone  she  said : 

"  Why  don't  you  go  too  ?    We  might  all  go  to  Blue  Hill." 

"  No  indeed !"  laughed  Gertrude.  "  I  am  not  going  a 
step.  I  haven't  been  asked,  and  I  wouldn't  intrude." 

"But  it  would  be  such  fun,"  persisted  Edith;  "you 
know  we  used  to  go  in  a  crowd,  and  walk  up  the  hill." 

"Times  have  changed,"  returned  her  friend,  pointedly. 
"  This  time  you  are  asked  to  go  alone.  If  it  were  any  one 
but  yon,  Edith,!  should  be  wildly  jealous." 

Edith  blushed  and  looked  conscious,  and  afterwards 
when  Brouson  renewed  his  pleading  she  consented  to  go 
with  him.  Unless  they  chanced  to  meet  some  of  the  family, 
why  need  she  tell  that  she  had  been  to  drive  at  all  ? 

Thus  she  deceived  herself  into  thinking  that  she  was 
doing  no  wrong,  and  gave  herself  up  to  the  enjoyment  of 
the  moment. 

That  afternoon  Mrs.  Parker,  Miss  Betsey  Trinkett's  old 
friend,  called  at  Oakleigh. 

"So  glad  to  tiud  you  at  home,  Mrs.  Franklin,"  she  said. 
"  I  met  Edith  a  while  ago,  and  she  did  look  so  sweet  and 
pretty,  driving  with  that  nice  young  man  that  stays  at  the 
Morgans'.  What's  his  name  ?" 

"  You  cannot  mean  Mr.  Brouson  ?" 

"Bronsou,  yes;  that's  it  —  Bronson.  Yes,  they  were 
driving  away  over  towards  Milton.  And  now  do  tell  rue 
about  your  brother.  They  say  all  kinds  of  things  in  Bren- 
tou,  but  you  can't  believe  half  of  them.  I  dare  say  you 
know  just  where  he  is,  after  all." 

"  My  brother  went  to  Philadelphia,  Mrs.  Parker,"  said  her 
hostes's,  controlling  herself  with  difficulty.  The  shock  of 
hearing  that  Edith  had  directly  disobeyed  her  was  almost 
too  much  for  her. 

"  To  Philadelphia !     Have  you  friends  there  ?' 


"Yes,  I  have  a  cousin." 

"Well,  now,  I'm  glad  to  hear  that!  I'll  just  tell 
and  stop  their  tongues;  they  do  say  so  much  they  don't 
mean.  Why,  only  this  afternoon  somebody  said  they'd 
been  told  that  Neal  Gordon  had  been  seen  walking  over 
the  Boston  road.  That's  the  very  reason  I  came  up  here, 
to  see  if  it  was  true,  and  here  he  is  away  off  in  Philadel- 
phia!" 

"  The  Boston  road  f" 

"Yes,  and  to  think  of  his  being  in  Philadelphia  all  the 
time!  Well,  I  must  be  going,  Mrs.  Franklin.  Edith  did 
look  sweet.  You  dress  her  so  prettily.  I  always  did 
think  those  girls  needed  a  mother.  Here's  Cynthia." 

Walking  up  across  the  green  from  the  river  came  Cyn- 
thia, with  a  paper  in  her  hand  which  she  was  reading.  At 
sight  of  Mrs.  Parker  and  her  mother  standing  at  the  car- 
riage door,  she  hastily  thrust  the  paper  into  her  pocket. 

Cynthia  had  been  after  wild-flowers  to  plant  in  the  bed 
she  had  for  them.  She  was  in  the  woods  not  far  from 
home  when  a  small  and  ragged  boy  approached  her. 

"  Be  you  Cynthy  ?"  he  asked. 

She  looked  up  from  her  digging,  startled. 

"  Yes,"  she  said. 

"  Then  here's  for  yer,  and  yer  not  to  tell  nobody." 

So  saying,  the  messenger  disappeared  as  rapidly  and 
mysteriously  as  he  had  come. 

Cynthia  opened  the  crushed  and  dirty  paper,  and  to  her 
astonishment  found  Neal's  handwriting  within. 

"  Meet  me  on  Brenton  Island  near  the  bridge,  Tuesday, 
as  early  as  you  can.  And  don't  tell  I  am  here.  Kemeru- 
ber,  don't  tell." 

The  last  words  were  heavily  underlined. 

Cynthia's  heart  stood  still  from  excitement.  Neal  so 
near,  and  his  sister  not  to  know  it!  But  she  would  pre- 
vail upon  him  to  come  home.  He  could  not  refuse  her 
after  all  they  had  been  through  on  his  account. 

Full  of  hope,  she  gathered  up  her  trowel  and  her  basket 
of  plants  and  ran  towards  the  house.  Fortunately  that 
tiresome  Mrs.  Parker  was  there,  and  so  her  mother  would 
not  notice  her  excitement.  For  once  Cynthia  was  glad  to 
see  the  lady.  Since  her  escapade  of  the  year  before  she 
had  always  been  somewhat  ashamed  of  meeting  her. 

An  hour  or  two  later  a  closed  carriage  came  slowly  up 
the  avenue.  Dennis  Morgan  was  on  the  box  with  the 
coachman.  Inside  were  Gertrude,  Dr.  Farley,  and  Edith, 
and  Edith  was  unconscious. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


BY  WILLIAM  HAMILTON  GIBSON. 

ft  F  all  the  insects  which  occasionally 
claim  our  attention  in  our  connii\ 
rambles,  there  is  probably  no  example 
more  entitled  to  our  distinguished 
consideration  than  the  plebeian,  com- 
monly despised,  lull  admittedly  amus- 
ing beetle  known  the  country  over 
as  tlie  funny  "  tumble-bug."  As  we 
see  him  now, so  he  has  always  been 
the  same  in  appearance, the  same  in 
habits,  yet  how  has  lie  fallen  from 

grace!    how    humbled    in    the    eyes    of    man     i'min    that 
original   high    estate    when,  in    ancient    Egypt,    he    en- 
joyed the  prestige  above  all  insects,  where,  as   the   sacred 
"scarabs>us,"  he  was  dignified  as  the  emblem  of  immortality, 
and  worshipped  as  a  god !     The  arcba-i.logical   histoi 
Egypt  is  rich  in  reminders  of  his  former  eminence. 
only  do  we  see  his  familiar  shape  (as  shown  in  our  initial 


- 


963 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


, 

• 

.        ' 


design  >  everywhere  among  those  ancient  hieroglyphs  en- 
graved iu  the  rock  or  pictured  on  the  crumbling  papyrus; 
but  it  is  especially  in  association  with  death  and  the  tomb 
that    his   important  significance  is  emphasized.     The  dark 
mortuary  passages  and  chambers  hewn  in  solid  rock  often 
hundreds    of   feet    below    the    surface,   where    still    sleep 
the1    mummied   remains  of  an    entire   ancient   people,  ami 
which  honeycomb  the 
earth      beneath      the 
feel    of    the   traveller 
in    certain    parts    of 
I  Igj  | it.  are    still    elo- 
quent  iu    tribute    to 
the     saered      searab. 
Tin1  lantern  of  the  an- 
tiquarian explorer  in 
those1  dark  dungeons 
of     death      discloses 
the  suggestive  figure 
of   this  beetle  every- 
where   engraved     in 
high   relief  upon   the 
walls,  perhaps   enliv- 
ened    with     brilliant 
color  still  as  fresh  as 
«  ben    painted    three 
thousand    years   ago, 
emblazoned    in    gold 
and     gorgeous    hues 
upon  the  sarcophagus 
and  the  mummy-case 
within,     and      again 
upon   the   outer  cov- 
ers of  the  wind- 
ing-sheet, finally, 
iu    the    form   of 
small  ornaments 
the   size    of  na- 
ture, beautifully 
car\ed    on     pre- 
cious   stones  en- 
closed wit  hill  t  lie 
wrappings  of  the 
mummy  itself. 

What  other 
insect  has  been  thus 
glorified  and  immortal- 
ized? For  the  sake  of 
its  proud  lineage,  if  no- 
thing else,  is  not  out- 
poor  tumble -bug  de- 
serving of  our  more 
than  passing  attention  ? 
Au  insect  which  has 
thus  been  distinguished 
by  an  entire  great  peo- 
ple of  antiquity  has 
some  claims  on  our  re- 
spect and  considera- 
tion. 

But  aside  from  his 
historical  fame,  he  will 
well  repay  our  careful 
study,  and  serve  to 
while  away  a  pleasant  ,' 

hour  in  the  observance 
of  his  queer  habits.    He 

is  now  no  longer  the  awe-  MR.   AND   MRS.   TUMBLE-BUG 

inspiring  sacred  scarab, 

but  Mr.  Tumble-bug,  or  rather  "  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tumble-bug," 
for  a  tumble-bug  always  pictured  in  the  ancient  hieroglyph 
is  rarely  to  be  seen  iu  its  natural  haunts.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Tumble-bug  are  devoted  and  inseparable,  and  as  a  rule  vie 
with  each  other  in  the  solicitude  for  that  precious  rolling 
ball  with  which  the  insects  are  always  associated.  From 
June  to  autumn  we  may  find  our  tumble-bugs.  There  are 
a  number  of  species  included  in  the  group  of  ScarabsBus  to 
which  they  belong.  Two  species  are  particularly  familiar, 


one  of  a  lustrous  bronzy  hue,  with  a   very  rounded  back, 
usually  found  at  work  ou  the  country  highway  in  the  track 
of  the  horse,  and  the  other,  the  true  typical  tumble-but;,  a 
flat-backed,  jet-black  lustrous  species  which  we  naturally 
associate  with  the  barn-yard  and  cow-pasture.      The  latter 
may  be  taken  as  an   illustrative   example  of  his  class,  ami 
his  ways  are  identical  with  that  of  his  ancient  sacred  con- 
gener and  present  inhabitant 
of  Egypt. 

When    we    first    see   them 
they   are   generally   manipu- 
lating the  hall — a  small  mass 
of  manure  in   which   an  egg 
has  been   laid,  and  which   by 
rolling  in   the  dust  has  now 
become  round  and  lirmly  in- 
crusted  and  smooth.      l,et  us 
follow  the  couple  in  their  ap- 
parently  aimless  though   no 
less    expeditious    and    vehe- 
ment labors.     They  have  now 
brought  their  globular  charge 
through   the    grassy  stubble, 
and    have    reached    a    clear 
spot  of  earth  with  scattered 
weeds.      Of    course    we    all 
know    from    the   books    that 
their   intention  is    to   find   a 
suitable  spot  in  which  to  bury 
this  ball,  and  such  being  the 
ca~e,  \\ith    what    astonishing 
stupidity    do    they    urge    on 
that  labor!  Here 
certainly    is  just 
the  right spot  I'm 
yon.   Mrs.   Tum- 
ble-bug!      Stop 
rolling  and  dig! 
But  no.  she  will 
not  listen  to  rea- 
son.   She  mounts 
the    top    of    the 
ball,  and,  deep- 
ing far  out  upon 
it,  pulls   it    over 
forward  with  her 
back  feet,  while 
Mr.   Tumble-bug 
helps    her    in    a 
most        singular 
fashion.   Does  he 
stand  up  ou  his 
hind  legs  on  the 
opposite        side, 
and    push    with 
his          powerful 
front   feet?     Oh 
no:  he  stands  ou 
his      head,      and 
pushes    with    his    hind    legs. 
As  he  pushes,  and  as  the  ball 
rolls    merrily    on,   Mrs.  Tum- 
ble-bug is  continually  lolled 
around     with     it,  and     must 
needs  climb    backwards  at  a 
lively  rate  to  keep  her  place. 
A  foot    or  two  is  thus   trav- 
elled    without     special      in- 
cident, when    a    slight    trou- 
ble   occurs.       The    ball    has    struck    an    obstacle     which 
neither  Mrs.  Tumble  -  bug's   pull    nor    Mr.  Tumble  -  bug's 
push  can    overcome.       Then   follow   an   apparent    council 
and  interchange  of  Tumble-bug  talk,  until  at  length  both 
put  their  shovel-shaped  heads  together  beneath  the  sphere, 
ami  over  it  goes  among  the  weeds.     It  is  soon  out  again 
upon  the  open.  Now,  Mrs.  Tumble-bug,  everything  is  plain- 
sailing  for  you  ;  here  is  a  long  down  grade  over  the  smooth 
Why,  the  ball  would  roll  down  itself  if  you 


'••'-.     •      , 
• 

••'•"• 

'        '  '    '•"..'• 

'V'' 


ROLLING    THE    BALL. 


clean  dirt ! 


964 


I 

,     . 

• 

*.*  • 


FROM   HIS 


1U(J  DIGGING 
DUNGEON. 


pauses,  and  the  ball  rests. 
and  both  beetles  now  creep 
about,  shovelling  up  the 
dirt  here  and  there  with 
their  very  queer  little  flat 
beads.  Ah.  perhaps  they  are 
going  to  start  that  //»/. 
which  all  the  books  tell  us 
about.  But  no;  the  place  is 
evidently  not  quite  satis- 
factory, both  of  them  seem 
so  to  conclude,  like  two 
souls  with  but  a  single 
thought.  Mrs.  T.  is  up  on 
the  bridge  in  a  jiffy, and  Mr. 
T.  takes  his  place  at  the 
helm ;  and  now  what  au  easy 
time  they  will  have  of  it 
down  this  little  slope;  but. 
no,  again;  tumble-bugs  don't 
seem  to  care  for  an  easy 
time.  A  hundred  times  on 
i  heir  tra\  els  will  they  pass 
the  very  best  possible  spot 
for  that  burrow,  a  hundred 
times  will  they  persist  in 
guiding  that  lil tie  world  of 
theirs  over  an  obstruction, 
\\heu  a  clear  path  lies  an 
inch  to  the  right  or  left  of 
them.  And  here,  when  their 

labors  might  be  so  easily  lightened  by  a  downward  grade, 
what  do  they  dot  they  deliberately  turn  the  ball  about 
and  bustle  it  along  up  liiU,  and  that  too  over  dirt  that  is 
not  half  as  promising.  Tip  they  go!  Mrs.  T.  now  seems  to 
have  the  best  of  it,  and  I  sometimes  have  my  suspicious 
whether  she  is  not  playing  a  prank  on  thai  unsuspecting 
spouse  working  so  hard  at  her  back,  for  he  now  has  not 
only  the  ball,  but  Mrs.  T.  as  well,  to  shove  along,  for  the 
most  that  she  can  do  is  to  throw  the  weight  of  her  body 
forward,  which  in  a  steep  up  grade  amounts  to  nothing  as  a 
help. 

But  if  she  is  imposing  ou  Mr.  T.  in  thus  guiding  the  ball 
up  hill,  she  soon  gets  the  Roland  for  her  Oliver.  Mr.  T.  is 
put  to  great  extra  labor  by  this  whimsical  decision  of  hers, 
and  woe  to  Mrs.  T.  when  that  little  chance  valley  or  inequal- 
ity of  surface  is  reached.  Even  though  she  can  see  it  com- 
ing and  holds  the  wheel, she  rarely  seems  to  take  advan- 
tage of  it  to  save  herself  or  her  ship,  while  Mr.  T.,  going 
backward  in  the  rear,  of  course  cannot  be  expected  to  know 
what  is  coming,  nor  be  blamed  for  the  consequences.  With 
kick  after  kick  from  his  powerful  hind  feet,  united  with 
the  push  of  his  mighty  pair  in  front,  the  ball  speeds  np  the 
slope.  Now  for  some  reason  he  gives  a  backward  shove  of 
more  than  usual  force  when  it  was  least  necessary.  The 
ball  had  chanced  upon  the  crest  of  aslope,  when,  kick!  over 
it  goes  with  a  pitch  and  a  bound,  and  Mrs.  T.  with  it, though 
this  time  not  ou  top.  Happy  is  she  if  the  ball  simply  rolls 
upon  her  and  pins  her  down.  Such,  indeed,  is  a  frequent 
episode  in  her  experience  of  keeping  the  ball  arolliug,  but 
occasionally  the  tumble-ball  thus  started,  and  oui  01  the 
control  of  her  spouse  at  the  rear,  may  roll  over  and  over  for 
a  long  distauce,  but  never  alone.  No  amount  of  demoraliza- 
tion of  this  sort  ever  surprises  her  into  losing  her  grip  on 
her  precious  globular  bundle.  When  at  last  it  fetches  up 
against  a  stone  or  stick,  and  she  assures  herself  that  she 
and  her  charge  are  safe  and  sound.no  doubt  she  immedi- 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 

ately  mounts  to   its  crest  to  signal   the   lone  Mi.  T.  afar  oil', 

who  is  quickly  back   of  her  again,  ami  bolh   arc   pr ptly 

off  on  a  fresh  journey.     And  so  they  keep  it  up.appan  ui  K 
-  .  for  sport,  perhaps  for  an  hour. 

At  length  \\  hen  t  hey  have  played  long  enough  — for  there 
is  no  other  reason  apparent  to  litimn  »«/;ii  n>  ihe\  decide 
to  plant  their  big  dirty  pellet.  The  place  \\  Inch  tliey  have 
chosen  is  not  half  as  promising  as  many  they  have  passed. 
but  that  doesn't  seem  to  matter.  Mrs.  T.  has  said.  "  It  shall 
would  only  let  it:  but.no,  go  here,"  and  that  ends  it. 

.she    will    Hui    let    it.      She  I  hen  follows  a  most  singular  exhibition  of  excavation 

and  burial.  The  ball  is  now  resting  quietly  on  the  dirt, 
and  the  two  beetles  are  apparently  rummaging  around  be- 
neath it,  trying  the  ground  with  the  sharp  edge  of  their 
shovel-shaped  faces.  And  now,  to  avoid  confusion,  we  will 
dismiss  Mr.  T.,  and  confine  our  observation  strictly  to  the 
female,  who  usually  (in  my  experience)  conducts  the  rcsi 
of  the  work  alone. 

She  has  evidently  found  a  spot  that  suits  her.  and  we 
expect  her  to  fulfil  the  directions  of  the  books  and  entomo- 
logical authorities.  She  must  "dig  a  deep  hole  lirst.aud 
then  roll  the  ball  into  it,  and  till  it  up  a._ain."  I'.nt  we  will 
look  in  vain  for  such  obedience.  Instead  of  this  she  per- 
sists in  ploughing  around  beneath  the  ball,  w  hich  seems  at 
times  almost  balanced  on  her  back,  until  all  the  earth  at 
this  point  is  soft  and  friable,  and  she  is  out  of  sight  under 
it.  Presently  she  appears  again  at  the  .surface,  and  as 

quickly  disappears  again. 
this  time  going  in  upside 
down  beneath  the  ball. 
which  she  pulls  downward 
with  her  pair  of  middle 
feet,  while  at  the  same 

-...  ^o-'Vi.    i1^"  time    with    hind    legs    and 

powerfuldigging  from  legs 
she  pushes  outward  and 
upward  the  loose  earth 


*'     .  .   V  L  v- 

,  •-  \  I  - 

.  ^  •-,, 


•  ••    /~- 

.  -:i«.vr.   1 

«$£&<rui 
'-^•tf-^'^M 


. 


SINKING    THE    BALL. 


965 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


•which  she  has  accumulated.  Visibly  the  ball  sinks 
into  the  cavity  moment  by  moment  as  the  earth  is  low- 
ered for  a  space  of  half  an  iuch  in  the  surrounding  soil, 
and  continually  forced  upward  outside  of  its  circumfer- 
ence, lu  a  few  moments  the  pellet  has  sunk  level  with 
the  ground,  and  in  a  few  moments  more  the  loose  earth 
pushed  upward  has  overtopped  it  and  it  is  out  of  sight. 
Still,  for  hours  this  busy  excavator  continues  to  dig  her 
hole  and  pull  the  ball  iu  after  her  with  shovel  head  and 
molelike  digging  feet,  scooping  out  a  circular  well  much 
larger  than  the  diameter  of  the  ball,  which  slowly  sinks  by 
its  own  weight,  aided  by  her  occasional  downward  pull  as 
this  same  loosened  earth  is  pushed  upward  above  it.  The 
burrow  is  thus  sunk  several  inches, when  the  beetle  ploughs 
her  way  to  the  surface  and  is  ready  for  another  similar  ex- 
perience. 

The  remaining  history  of  the  ball  and  its  change  is  soon 
told.  The  egg  within  it  soon  hatches,  the  larva  finding 
just  a  sufficiency  of  food  to  carry  it  to  its  full  growth, 
when  it  transforms  to  a  chrysalis,  and  at  length  to  the 
tumble-bug  like  its  parent.  The  formerly  loose  earth  above 
him  is  now  firmly  packed,  but  he  seems  to  know  by  in- 
stinct why  those  powerful  front  feet  were  given  to  him, 
aud  he  is  quickly  working  his  way  to  the  surface,  and  iu  a 
day  or  so  is  seen  iu  the  barn-yard  rolling  his  ball  as  skil- 
fully as  his  mother  had  done  before  him. 

Such  is  the  method  always  employed  by  the  tumble-bug 
as  I  have  seen  him.  And  yet  I  have  read  in  many  natural 
histories  and  have  heard  careful  observers  claim  that  the 
hole  is  dug  first  and  the  ball  rolled  in.  Perhaps  they  vary 
their  plan,  but  I  doubt  it.  Here  is  a  matter  for  some  of 
our  boys  aud  girls  to  look  into. 


process  of  erection — in  fact,  of  anything  which  came  iu  his 
way  which  he  could  get  pay  for,  and  the  result  is  that  he 
has  a  snug  sum  in  the  bank,  and  looks  on  his  camera  as  a 
financial  friend. 

Working  for  a  prize  stimulates  one  to  do  his  best,  and 
even  though  one  should  not  be  fortunate  enough  to  win  a 
prize  the  effort  to  excel  will  not  be  lost.  It  will  be  a  help 
in  more  ways  than  one.  This  year  we  hope  that  at  least 
half  of  the  prizes  will  be  carried  off  by  our  Ladies.  A 
camera  is  specially  adapted  to  be  a  girl's  companion  and 
source  of  pleasure.  Cameras  are  now  made  so  very  light 
and  compact  that  they  are  no  burden  to  carry,  and  if  one 
uses  films  they  are  still  lighter.  Girls  as  a  rule  are  more 
careful  workers  than  boys,  and  should  therefore  make  the 
best  amateur  photographers,  for  it  takes  care  as  well  as 
skill  to  produce  a  good  picture. 

Look  over  your  pictures  that  yon  have  made  this  sum- 
mer, select  those  which  you  think  are  the  best,  finish  them 
up  iu  a  neat  and  tasteful  manner,  aud  seud  them  in  before 
the  competition  closes.  If  you  have  none  which  you  think 
worthy  of  a  prize,  set  about  making  some  without  delay. 
If  you  do  not  win  a  prize  you  will  have  the  benefit  of  care- 
ful criticism,  aud  will  stand  a  better  chance  of  winning 
another  time. 

Any  questions  iu  regard  to  the  prizes,  or  about  making 
pictures  for  the  competition,  will  be  auswered  promptly. 

Sic  KNIGHT  AI.FHKI>  C.  BAKKR  encloses  two  very  pretty  waterscapes, 
and  asku  the  cause  of  the  black  marks  near  the  edge  of  one  of  the 
pictures,  and  also  asks  to  have  the  pictures  criticised,  both  from  a 
technical  and  artistic  point  The  black  spots,  as  far  as  can  be  judged 
from  the  finished  print,  seems  to  be  caused  by  scratches  on  the  41m. 
If  so,  the  print  can  be  trimmed  just  enough  to  cut  them  off  from  the 
picture.  The  print  which  is  numbered  141  is  the  better  picture.  It  li'iis 
more  contrast  of  light  and  shade,  the  perspective  is  betier-  The  old  log 
in  the  foreground  and  the  stretch  of  shore  give  the  effect  of  distances 
which  the  other  picture  lacks.  Another  thing  which  makes  this  picture 
more  attractive  than  the  other  is  the  alight  ripple  on  the  water.  It  has 
the  same  effect  as  do  clouds  in  the  sky.  If  Sir  Alfred  will  study  the 
two  prints  he  will  readily  sue  what  is  meant.  No.  140  would  be  im- 
proved if  about  half  an  inch  of  the  foreground  were  trimmed  away. 
No.  141  would  make  a  very  nice  platniuum  print  or  plain-paper  print. 


Ttvs  Department  is  conducted  in  the  Interest  of  Amateur  Photographers,  and  the  Editor  will 
be  pleased  to  answer  any  question  on  the  subject  so  fur  us  possible.  Correspondents  should 
address  Editor  Camera  Ciub  Department. 

OUR    PEIZE    OFFER. 

THE  members  of  the  Camera  Club  will  notice  that  our 
competitiou  this  year  is  confined  to  three  subjects  or 
classes — Marines,  Landscapes,  aud  Figure  Studies.  All  the 
prizes  are  in  money,  and  there  are  ten  prizes.  The  mem- 
bers are  not  restricted  as  to  the  number  of  prints  they 
may  send  in,  nor  are  they  barred  from  any  class.  A  mem- 
ber may  compete  in  each  of  the  five  classes,  and  has  ten 
chances  of  winning  a  prize. 

We  want  every  Knight  and  Lady  of  our  Camera  Club  to 
compete  for  these  prizes.  We  also  want  you  to  tell  your 
friends  about  them,  and  get  them  to  join  the  Camera  Club. 
A  circular  which  tells  all  about  the  Club  has  just  been 
issued  by  Harper  &  Brothers.  It  tells  what  the  Club  is  for, 
gives  prospectus  for  the  coming  year,  gives  the  formula  for 
plain  paper,  which  so  many  of  you  have  been  writing 
about,  aud  also  gives  the  prize  offers,  rules,  etc.,  of  the  com- 
petitiou. Copies  of  the  circular  will  be  sent  to  any  mem- 
ber who  applies  for  them,  and  we  would  like  each  member 
to  help  iu  distributing  them. 

Last  year  but  few  Ladies  of  the  ROUND  TABLE  sent  in 
pictures  for  the  prize  competition.  This  year  we  want  all 
the  Ladies  who  belong  to  the  Camera  Club  to  seud  iu  pic- 
tures. One  of  the  Sir  Knights  who  took  a  prize  last  year 
was  so  encouraged  by  his  success  that  he  has  beeu  work- 
ing steadily  all  the  year,  and  has  made  quite  a  good  deal 
of  money.  A  letter  received  from  him  a  few  weeks  ago 
states  that  he  should  never  have  thought  of  making  money 
with  his  camera  if  he  had  not  won  a  prize,  but  the  ten- 
dollar  check  which  he  received  for  his  picture  suggested 
to  him  that  if  he  could  take  a  picture  good  euough  to  win 
a  prize  he  could  take  good  euough  pictures  to  sell.  He  has 
made  pictures  of  boats,  of  children,  of  pets,  of  buildiugs  iu 


THE  BELLS  OF  NINE   O'CLOCK. 

SLEIGH-BELLS  iu  winter,  ship's  bells  at  sea, 
Church  bells  on  Sunday — oh  !  man}'  bells  there  be — - 
But  the  cheery  bells  of  nine  o'clock 
Are  the  merriest  bells  for  me. 

School  bells  at  nine  o'clock,  and  straightway  the  street 
Breaks  into  music  with  the  rush  of  little  feet. 
Clatter,  patter,  swift  they  go,  wide  stands  the  door, 
School  bells  are  ringing  now,  holidays  are  o'er. 

Silver  bells  and  golden  bells,  aud  bells  with  iron  throats, 
Cowslip  bells  and  lily  bells,  aud  bells  with  tripping  notes, 
Oh  !  many  bells  and  merry  bells,  aud  liquid  bells  there 

be, 
But  the  sturdy  bells  of  uiue  o'clock  are  the  clearest  bells 

for  me.  M.  E.  S. 


This  Department  is  conducted  in 
be  pleased  to  answer  any  question 
address  Editor. 


PUDDING 

e  interest  of  Girls  and  Youne  Women,  and  the  Editor  wil  I 
11  the  subject  so  far  as  possible.     Correspondents  should 

TTTHAT  must  I  wear?  is  a  question  quite  often  on  girlish 
*  *  lips,  and  a  girl's  satisfaction  with  herself  depends  a 
good  deal  on  the  answer  to  it.  Nobody  enjoys  being  badly 
or  strikingly  dressed,  and  in  this  matter  I  am  much  of  the 
opinion  of  Mrs.  John  Hancock,  the  great  lady  whose  hus- 
band's signature  stands  out  so  splendidly  on  our  Declara- 
tion of  Independence.  Mrs.  Hancock  said  in  substance 


966 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


that  she  could  not  approve  of  a  girl  who  was  indifferent  to 
her  dress,  nor  of  one  who  showed  that  she  was  thinking 
about  it,  and  that  she  was  pleased  with  the  effect  she  made. 
A  girl  must  not  strut  about  like  a  vain  peacock  ;  she  must 
wear  her  clothes  as  the  plant  wears  its  flowers  —  uncon- 
sciously. 

IK  YOU  ARE  SENSIBLE  and  clear-headed  girls  you  will  not 
wish  to  have  many  frocks  at  once.  A  strong  serviceable 
serge  for  every  -day  wear,  a  pretty  cashmere  or  silk  for 
best,  a  simple  white  frock  for  evening,  two  or  three  sep- 
arate waists,  and  an  extra  skirt  to  relieve  the  serge,  are 
sufficient  for  the  winter  wardrobe  of  a  well-dressed  young 
girl.  In  summer  one  requires  more  changes,  but,  print  and 
muslin  and  gingham  frocks  are  cheap,  and,  if  neatly  made, 
are  always  appropriate.  Of  under-clothing  have  as  simple! 
a  supply  as  you  can  take  care  of.  The  dainty  girl  likes  to 
be  clothed  in  fresh  and  clean  garments  next  the  skin,  aud 
where  her  clothing  is  not  seen.  These  garments  may  be 
of  tine  and  nice  material,  but  the  school-girl  aud  the  young 
woman  should  avoid  elaborate  frills  and  puft's  and  tucks, 
embroideries  and  laces,  for  these  are  easily  torn,  and  are 
hard  upon  the  laundress.  Of  stockings  a  half-dozen  pairs 
are  necessary,  of  handkerchiefs  two  or  three  dozen,  and  of 
linen  for  the  neck  and  wrists  enough  to  insure  one's  per- 
sonal perfect  neatness  on  every  occasion.  Gloves  and  shoes 
are  important  parts  of  a  young  lady's  outfit.  Of  the  former 
two  pairs,  oue  for  best  and  one  for  common  wear,  will 
probably  be  enough  to  have  at  once,  and  of  the  latter,  if 
you  can'  afford  it,  have  three  or  four  pairs,  for  out-door  and 
iu-door  uses.  A  young  woman  whose  gloves  aud  boots  are 
good  of  their  kind,  and  in  nice  order,  will  always  appear 
well  dressed.  A  water-proof  cloak,  a  thick  warm  jacket, 
aud  two  hats,  one  a  toque,  trim  and  dainty,  the  other  a 
wider  and  more  picturesque  affair,  with  a  brim,  and  lea- 
thers. ribbons,  or  flowers  for  trimming,  will  meet  all  ex- 
igencies. Don't  wear  birds  or  wings  on  your  hats.  No 
ROUND  TABLE  Lady  must  countenance  the  cruel  killing  of 
little  birds  that  her  hat  may  be  adorned  iu  a  barbaric  fash- 
ion. The  prejudice  humane  people  feel  against  the  wear- 
ing of  slain  birds  does  not  extend  to  ostrich  feathers. 


while  on  the  land  the  same  could  only  lie  heard  at  70  feet. 
Professor  Tyndall,  when  on  Mont  Blanc,  found  tin1  report 
of  a  pistol-shot  no  louder  than  the,  pop  of  a  champagne 
bottle.  Persons  in  a  balloon  can  hear  voices  from  the  earth 
a  long,  time  after  they  themselves  arc  inaudible  to  people 
below. 


/ 


SOME  CURIOUS  FACTS  CONCERNING 
HEARING. 

AN  inquiry  was  recently  made  in  London  as  to  the 
greatest  distance  at  which  a  man's  voice  could  be 
heardt leaving,  of  course,  the  telephone  out  of  considera- 
tion. The  reply  was  most  interesting,  and  was  as  follows : 
Eighteen  miles 'is  the  longest  distance  on  record  at  which 
a  man's  voice  has  been  heard.  This  occurred  in  the  Grand 
Canon  of  the  Colorado,  where  oue  man  shouting  the  name 
"  Bob  "  at  one  end  his  voice  was  plainly  heard  at  the  other 
end,  which  is  eighteen  miles  away.  Lieutenant  Foster,  on 
Parry's  third  arctic  expedition,  found  that  he  could  con- 
verse with  a  man  across  the  harbor  of  Port  Bowen,  a  dis- 
tance of  6696  feet,  or  about  one  mile  and  a  quarter;  and 
Sir  John  Fraukliu  said  that  he  conversed  with  ease  at  a 
distance  of  more  than  a  mile.  Dr.  Young  records  that  at 
Gibraltar  the  human  voice  has  been  heard  at  a  distance  of 

ten  miles. 

Sound  has  remarkable  force  in  water.  Collation,  by  ex- 
periments made  in  the  Lake  of  Geneva,  estimated  that  a 
bell  submerged  in  the  sea  might  be  heard  a  distance  ot 
more  than  sixty  miles.  Franklin  says  that  he  heard  the 
striking  together  of  two  stones  in  the  water  half  a  mile 
away  Over  water  or  a  surface  of  ice  sound  is  propagated 
with 'great  clearness  and  strength.  Dr.  Huttou  relates 
that  on  a  quiet  part  of  the  Thames  near  Chelsea  he  could 
hear  a  person  read  distinctly  at  the  distance  of  1 


ON    BOARD    THE    ARK. 

BY   ALBERT  LEE 
CHAPTER   VIII. 

TI^HE  Lion  bowed  in  a  dignified  manner  to  the  Gopher. 
_I_  aud  rapped  on  the  table  again  to  bring  the  Parrots  to 
order,  aud  then  the  Gopher  said,  very  slowly  aud  delib- 
erately : 

"When  is  a  door  not  a  door?" 

The  animals  stared  at  one  another,  and  whispered,  and 
gazed  up  and  dowu  the  table  as  if  they  thought  they  might 
possibly  derive  inspiration  from  the  dishes.  Tommy  and 
the  ex-Pirate  said  not  a  word.  Presently  the  Gopher  re- 
peated : 

"  When  is  a  door  not  a  door  ?" 

But  no  one  could  guess,  and  after  a  few  moments  more 
of  anxious  aud  strained  silence  the  Gopher  said  : 

"  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  tell  you.  A  door  is  not  a  door 
when  it  is  ajar." 

The  animals  fairly  roared  and  shrieked  with  laughter. 
They  bellowed  aud  howled  and  pounded  ou  the  table,  and 
the  Gopher  became  so  much  affected  with  appreciation  of 
his  own  wit  that  he  fell  over  backwards,  and  almost  stunned 
a  Newfoundland  puppy  who  was  trying  to  get  his  nose  above 
the  table  to  see  what  it  was  all  about.  Tommy  had  never 
realized  before  what  the  expression  "to  roar  with  laugh- 
ter" really  signified,  and  he  concluded  he  never  wanted 
to  experience  such  a  realization  again.  The  noise  was  so 
great  that  he  had  to  put  his  fingers  to  his  ears.  When  the 
merriment  had  partially  subsided,  the  little  hoy  leaned 
over  to  the  ex-Pirate  aud  said: 

"  I  have  heard  that  joke  before  ;  haven't  you  ?" 
"  Indeed  I  have,"  answered  the  ex-Pirate,  "  many  a  time." 
"  It's  au  awfully  old  one,  isn't  it?" 

"I  always  suspected  it  was  first  gotten  oft"  in  the  Ark," 
said  the  ex-Pirate,  shaking  his  head  knowingly ;  "  but  I  did 
not  know  the  Gopher  was  responsible  for  it." 

By  this  time  the  animals  had  recovered  themselves,  aud 
some  were  shouting  to  the  Gopher  for  more  jokes.     He 
got  up  and  protested  that  he  did  not  know  any  more;  and 
then, suddenly  pointing  to  the  ex-Pirate,  he  exclaimed: 
"  He's  a  funny  one.     He  can  recite  things !" 
Thereupon  the  animals  all  gazed  at  the  ex-Pirate,  aud 
the  Lion  said,  "  Recite  things." 

The  ex-Pirate  never  needed  much  urging  to  do  this  sort 
of  thing,  and  so  when  Tommy  whispered  to  him  to  read 
the  seventeenth  chapter  of  his  autobiography  which  he 
knew  his  friend  had  in  his  pocket,  aud  of  which  the  little 
.  boy  had  only  heard  the  first  few  lines,  the  ex-Pirate  arose. 
anil,  bowing  in  his  visual  way  to  all  his  hearers,  he  pulled 
his  manuscript  from  his  coat  and  began  to  read : 

The  following  day  the  sun  rose  up  as  usual  from  the  East 
The   sea   was"  calm,  the    sky    was    clear,  the   stormy    win 

The  Black  Avenger  sped  along  before  a  gentle  breeze, 
And  the   starboard   watch    loafed   on    the    deck    111    true    pir: 

ease. 

I  took  my  breakfast  down  below,  and  when  I  came  on   decK 
I  looked  'about,  and  far  away   I   saw  a   little  speck 
Upon  the  blue  horizon,  and  I  knew   it    wa-  a  sail, 
For   in  matters  of  this  nature,  my  eyesight  could  not   fail. 
I  called  my  swarthy  Bo's'n,  and  I  said  to  him,  said   I 
"If  we  don't  overtake  that  ship,  I'll   kno«    the  reason   why; 
If  we  don't  overtake  her  ere  the  sun   shines   overhead 
I'll  cut  the  whiskers  off  tin-  crew   before  I   go  to  bed! 

The  Bo's'n  nodded  cheerfully  and  swore  a  tearful  oath, 
(He  called  upon  the  Sun  and  Moon,  an, 1  scandalized  them  bi 
And    then    he    hitched    his   trousers  up   aud  piped    his 
shrill, 


967 


HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE 


THE  ANIMALS  ROARED  WITH  LAUGHTER  AT  THE  GOPHER'S  JOKE. 


And  made  the  loafing  pirates  heave  the  halyards  with  a  will. 
The  Bin'-}:'  Arin'hi-  i-| »."  1  along  and  ploughed  the  boiling  sea, 
The  rigging  creaked,  the  sails  stood  out,  the  foam  flew  fast  and 

free. 

The  pirates  gathered  on  the  deck  and  buckled  on  their  swords, 
Rolled  up  thru   sleeves,  and  combed  their  beards,  and  spoke  pi- 
ratic words. 

But  suddenly  the  Ro's'ii  came  a-rushing  up  to  me, 
His    face  was  pale,  his   nose  was   red,  he   spoke:    "Good  sir," 

said  he, 

"  Yon  vessel  is  from  Switzerland,  and,  verily,  I  fear 
We'll  find  she  is  not  what  she  seems,  as  soon  as  we  get  near; 
She  looks    to    me    as   though   she    might — might    be    a    priva- 
teer !" 

(But  when  he  found  she  wasn't  one,  he  shed  a  private  tear.) 
Said  I:   "Load  up  the  cannons,  boys,  with  ten-pound  cannon- 
balls  ; 

I  care  not  what  yon  ship  may  be,  into  my  hands  she  falls  ! 
We'll  take  her,  and  we'll  take  her  guns,  her  captain,  and  her 

crew, 

HIT  cook,  her  cabin  steward,  and  her  precious  cargo,  too  !" 
So   the    Gunner   and    the  Gunner's    Mate  they  lifted  up  the 

hatch, 
And  they  called    upon   the   pirates  who   formed   the   starboard 

watch 

To  help  them  lift  the  cannon-balls  from  out  the  magazine 
Where  all  the  cannon-balls   were   kept,  wrapped    up   in    bomba-  • 

zine. 

But  presently  the  Gunner's  Mate  came  rushing  to  the  rail, 
His  hair  was  standing  up  on  end,  his  face  was  very  pale, 
He  cried:   "Oh,  Captain,  woe  is   me,  no  cannon-balls   are   left; 
Of  shot  and  shell  of  every  kind  the  magazine's  bereft. 
There's  not  a  piece  of  shrapnel,  no  canister  or  grape, 
There's  not  enough  of  buckshot  to  kill  a  good-sized  ape !" 

The  Bo's'n,  who  stood  near  at  hand,  gazed  sadly  at  us  both, 
And  then  he  pulled  his  pistols  out  and  swore  a  mighty  oath: 
"How  shall  we  take  yon  Switzer  ship,"  he  said,  "without  a 

shell  ?" 
"We've  yot  to  fight,"  I   answered  him.     "Won't   cheese   do 

just  as  well?" 

For,  two  days  previously,  you  know,  we  met  a  brigantine 
From  Amsterdam  for  Zululand,  by  name  the  Bandnl'mr, 
And  in  her  hold  she  carried  a  fine  cargo,  if  you  plra-r, 
Cnn-iMing  of  a  hundred  thousand  dozen  Edam  cln 
We  took  a  hundred  dozen   and  stowed  them  on  the  poop 
l!ct ween  the  after  cannon  and  the  Captain's  chicken-coop. 
(The   crew   had    used    the   cheeses  and  some  bottles    from    the 
galley, 


The  day  before,  to  impro- 
vise a  sort  of  bowling- 
alley.) 

Said  f :  "  We'll  take  these 
Edam  cheese  and  put 
them  in  the  guns, 
Add     shoot     them     at     the 
Switzer    ship    until    she 
sinks  or  runs; 
For   surely   such   proceeding 
will  be  worse  than  shot 
or  shell, 

Just  think  of  being  hit  with 
cheese  —  say  nothing  of 
the  smell !" 

The  pirates  laughed  and 
vowed  my  scheme 
would  give  them  lots 

of  fun  ; 

And  soon  a  big,  red,  round, 
Dutch  cheese  was 
rammed  in  every  gun. 
It  was  not  long  before  the 
Biatk  Amwjer  came 
abreast 

And  hailed  the  ship  from 
Switzerland  with  true 
piratic  zest ; 

But  not  a  Switzer  said  a 
word,  nor  made  they 
any  sign, 

But  all  the  sailors  on  the 
ship  were  ranged  along 
in  line, 

And  leaned  upon  the  star- 
board rail,  with  sunken 
pallid  cheeks 

As  though  they  had  not  tasted  food  for  six  or  seven  weeks. 
The  swarthy  Bo's'n  hailed  again,  and  as  no  answer  came 
The  Gunner's  Mate  averred  it  was  high  time  to  start  the  game. 
I  spoke  the  word,  and  seven  guns  all  loaded  up  with  cheese 
Were  fired  at  the  Switzer  ship  as  nicely  as  you  plea-e; 
And  then  a  second  volley  went,  and  soon  again  a  third, 
And  when   the  smoke  had   cleared   away  we  saw  what  had  oc- 
curred. 
Each    cheese    had   hit   the   Switzer   ship    and    flattened   on    her 

decks, 

The  Switzer  men  were  wailing  in  the  cheese  up  to  their  necks. 
We  waited  then  to  see  what  sort  of  fighting  they  would  make, 
And  wondered  how  much  cheese  these  Switzer  sailor-men  could 

take. 

But  as  we  waited  silence  came  all  o'er  the  Switzer  craft, 
And  not  a  seaman  seemed  to  move,  or  forward  or  abaft. 
I  called  the  Bo's'n  to  the  bridge,  and  "Take  the  gig,"  said  I; 
"Go  board  yon   ship,  where  all   is  still,  and   learn   the  reason 

why." 

The  Bo's'u  quick  got  in  the  gig  with  sixteen  of  the  crew, 
He  took   along  a  cannon  and  an  Edam  cheese  or  two. 
And  half  an  hour  he  was  gone,  then  slowly  rowed  he  back ; 
He  said  to  me:   "Good  Captain,"  he  sobbed,  "alas,  alack  ! 
Upon  that  floating  vessel  there's  no  one  left  to  fight ; 
There's  not  a  living  creature,  not  a  living  thing  in  sight. 
No  man  remains  to  give  reply  to  any  kind  of  question : 
The  Switzers  ate  up  all  the  cheese,  and  died  of  indigestion." 

There  was  another  great  demonstration  of  approval  as 
soon  as  the  ex-Pirate  had  concluded,  but  Tommy  paid  little 
attention  to  the  noise  this  time,  because  he  bad  become 
somewhat  accustomed  to  it. 

"You  see,"  said  the  ex -Pirate,  apologetically,  "  I  could 
riot  very  well  read  anything  like  that — all  about  cheese — 
in  the  presence  of  the  Welsh  Rabbit ;  could  1  "" 

"Of  course  not,"  agreed  Tommy  ;   "  but  is  it  true  that — 

"  I  say,"  interrupted  the  Gopher,  leaning  in  front  of  Tom- 
my and  addressing  himself  to  the  ex-Pirate;  "I  know  an- 
other joke  LIOW.  I  know  what  the  BoYn  said  to  the  Guu- 
iier's  Mate  wheu  he  told  him  to  shoot  at  the  ship." 

••  Well,  what  did  he  tell  hiui  ?"  asked  the  ex-Pirate,  in- 
raiir  ioiisly. 

"Cheese  it!" shouted  the  Gopher,  who  was  immediately 
seized  with  such  a  violent  fit  of  laughter  that  he  fell  under 
the  table,  and  almost  buried  himselfttuderthe  pile  of  broken 
soup  plates. 

[TO   BE   CONTINUED.] 


963 


u 


5INTERSCHOEASTIG 


ALTHOUGH  THE  CASCADILLA  SCHOOL  has  not  practised 
rowing  so  long  as  St.  Paul's,  of  which  this  Department 
spoke  last  week,  it  has  made  rapid  strides  ever  since  the 
sport  \vas  introduced  there  two  years  ago,  and  now  boasts 
of  a  well-equipped  navy.  Owing  to  the  school's  location  on 
Caynga  Lake,  aquatics  will  become  the  distinctive  form  of 
athletics  there  in  the  future,  although,  as  a  member  of  the 
New  York  State  Intersc!) elastic  League,  football  and  base- 
ball teams  are  also  pnt  into  the  field.  But,  it  is  a  good 
thing  to  have  rowing  developed  in  some  of  the  preparatory 
institutions,  and  I  shall  not  regret  to  see  some  of  the  vast 
amount  of  energy  that  now  appears  to  be  running  riot  in 
track  athletics  turned  into  this  new  channel.  Every  large 
school  situated  near  a  watercourse  or  a  lake  ought  to  add 
rowing  to  its  list  of  sports,  if  it  is  possible  to  do  so. 

•  THE  PRINCIPAL  DIFFICULTY  in  the  way  of  such  progress 
at  present  lies  in  the  fact  that  so  few  schools  have  crews, 
that  interscbolastie  contests  are  hard  to  arrange.  The 
Cascadilla  oarsmen  are  fortunate  in  having  the  Cornell 
crews  to  row  against,  and  each  year  they  get  races  with 
tin;  Freshmen  and  'Varsity  eights.  Thus  far  they  have  se- 
cured no  victories  over  either  of  these  rivals,  but  as  the 
sport  grows  older  with  them  they  should  make  a  better 
showing  from  year  to  year.  The  Cascadilla  commodore  is 
now  negotiating  with  a  school  near  Philadelphia  that  has 
taken  steps  toward  the  organization  of  a  crew,  and  it  is 
possible  that  next  summer  will  witness  the  tirst  of  a  series 
of  iuterscholastic  regattas  between  these  progressive  insti- 
tutions. 

THE  SAME  LACK  OF  A  SCHOLASTIC  RIVAL  hampers  rowing 
at  St.  John's   Academy,  Uelatield,  Wisconsin,  where   the 


school  eight  have  to  seek  as  their  opponents  the  crews 
of  Madison  University.  Last  spring  tlie\  defeated  the  W 
crew  by  three  lengths  in  an  exciting  nice  over  the  Naga- 
wicka  course  in  Ilie  excellent  time  of  s  min.3  sec.  This  \  ie- 
tory  was  all  the  more  creditable  tVom  the  fact  that  several 
of  the  Madison  'Varsity  men  had  seats  in  t he  '97  boat.  I 
have  spoken  of  the  rowing  which  is  done  in  the  several 
schools  mentioned  to  show  that  it  is  possible  for  young 
men  not  yet  in  college  to  approximate  the  work  performed 
by  older  athletes.  The  Department  has  devoted  space  to 
the  description  of  the  crews  and  their  methods  in  the  hope 
of  encouraging  other  institutions  to  take  up  the  sport  dur- 
ing the  coming  winter  and  next  spring.  It  is  an  excellent 
exercise,  and  a  seat  in  the  'Varsity  boat  is  looked  upon  as 
the  greatest  athletic  honor  a  college  man  may  attain,  ex- 
cepting, of  course,  a  captaincy.  It  must  be  the  same  in 
every  school  where  rowing  is  practised,  and  the  school  that 
has  a  crew  in  the  spring  is  bound  to  have  a  better  football' 
team  in  the  fall,  for  the  training  done  in  the  winter  and 
the  rowing  done  later  develop  new  material,  and  strength- 
en the  older  men. 

THE  PROPOSITION  TO  ORGANIZE  a  National  Interseholastic 
Athletic  Association,  modelled  upon  the  Inter-collegiate 
Association,  made  in  these  columns  in  the  early  part  of 
last  spring,  is  looked  upon  favorably  not  only  by  the 
schools  and  associations  in  this  part  of  the  country,  but 
also  by  the  schools  on  the  Pacific  coast.  In  fact,  the  West- 
erners have  shown  a  much  greater  spirit  of  enterprise  and 
sportsmanship  in  the  matter  than  have  the  managers  of 
scholastic  athletic  interests  in  the  East.  It  is  probable, 
however,  that  the  apparent  stagnation  in  this  quarter  has 
been  due  to  the  summer  vacation,  and  the  consequent  ces- 
sation of  school  sports,  and  the  absence  from  town  of  those 
who  could  take  hold  of  the  scheme  and  put  it  through. 
Now  that  the  fall  term  is  about  to  open,  this  matter  prom- 
ises to  be  taken  up  with  the  energy  required  for  such  an 
undertaking,  and  all  we  need  is  the  hearty  co-operation  of 
the  many  interscholastic  associations  from  every  State  in 
the  Union.  On  October  8th  there  will  be  a  meeting  of  the 
New  York  I.S.A.A.,  and  I  am  assured  that  at  that  meeting 
the  first  steps  towards  the  formation  of  the  National  Inter- 
scholastic League  will  be  taken. 

STEPS  HAVE  ALREADY  BEEN*  TAKEN  in  California  toward 
joining  the  League  as  soon  as  it  shall  be  started,  and  the 
San  Francisco  newspapers  are  already  talking  of  it  as 
though  it  were  an  accomplished  fact.  This  is  all  due  n> 
those  lively  young  sportsmen  of  the  Oakland  High-School, 
who  are  not  only  eager  to  enter  a  general  association,  lint 
are  anxious  to  send  a  team  of  athletes  to  the  l.crkeh-v  ( Ival 
to  threaten  the  supremacy  of  the  Eastern  schools  in  track 


THE   CASCADILLA   CREW    AND    BOAT-HOUSE. 

969 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


and  field  sports.      Here  is  what  the  San  Francisco  Cull  of 
September  4th  says  on  the  subject: 

The  Oakland  High-School  decided  to-day  that  it  would  join  the 
National  League  of  High-Schools,  and  send  a  team  to  New  York 
next  year  to  join  in  the  national  High-School  contests.  The  team 
will  consist  of  ten  of  the  best  athletes  in  the  school,  and  the  boys 
anticipate  being  capable  of  holding  their  own  and  capturing  some 
of  the  trophies.  They  have  received  much  encouragement  from 
the  recent  tour  of  the  Berkeley  team.  The  Oakland  High-School 
lias  for  some  time  been  a  member  of  the  league  of  which  HAR- 
PER'S ROUND  TABLE  is  the  organ,  and  now  that  they  have  decided 
to  branch  out  and  seek  national  honors,  athletics  will  receive  a 
boom,  as  there  is  much  rivalry  as  to  who  will  ultimately  be  the 
ones  chosen  to  uphold  the  honor  of  Oakland's  High-School  in  the 
Empire  State.  A  general  meeting  will  be  held  in  a  few  days,  and 
a  manager  will  be  elected  who  will  at  once  put  into  practice  all 
the  available  material.  After  that  the  boys  will  commence  to 
obtain  pledges  for  financial  aid,  as  it  will  require  about  $1600  to 
defray  the  expenses  of  the  trip.  The  next  national  High-School 
contests  will  be  held  in  the  summer;  but  entries  are  now  being 
made,  and  Oakland  will  not  be  dilatory  in  outlining  the  events 
for  which  she  will  seek  to  carry  off  the  honors.  "The  send- 
ing East  of  our  team  will  be  one  of  the  best  things  that  ever 
the  High-School  undertook,"  said  one  of  the  O.H.-S.  athletes  to- 
day. "It  will  call  attention  to  our  school  and  to  Oakland,  and 
will  let  thousands  of  people  know  that  we  exist  who  are  in  doubt 
just  now  as  to  where  Oakland  is.  We  have  been  debating  the 
proposition  of  sending  a  team  East  all  this  year,  but  after  we 
saw  what  a  lot  of  attention  was  shown  to  the  Berkeley  team  we 
could  see  no  reason  why  we  should  not  try  a  similar  tour  among 
the  crack  Eastern  High-Schools.  We  do  not  anticipate  any 
trouble  in  raising  the  necessary  funds,  as  we  think  the  noise  we 
shall  make  will  prove  a  very  valuable  advertisement  for  this  city." 

A  GOOD  MANY  OF  THE  STATEMENTS  made  by  the  Call 
are  inaccurate,  but  the  main  announcement,  that  theO.H.-S. 
will  come  East,  is  authentic.  It  behooves  the  Eastern 
sportsmen,  therefore,  to  get  ready  to  receive  them.  As  I 
have  said  befoie,  the  KOUND  TABLE  will  do  everything  in 
its  power  to  further  the  organization  of  a  National  Asso- 
ciation of  the  schools,  and  these  columns  are  open  to  cor- 
respondents who  care  to  make  suggestions  for  the  advance- 
ment of  the  scheme.  Perhaps  a  better  idea  of  what  the 
Califoruians  have  actually  done,  and  will  do,  can  be  ob- 
tained from  this  letter,  which  caiue  to  the  ROUND  TABLE 
from  the  Captain  of  the  O.H.-S.  athletic  team: 

"  The  newspaper  reports  are  not  at  all  accurate,  but  they  will 
serve  to  show  what  we  have  been  doing  lately.  While  they  do  not 
convey  the  exact  truth,  they  have  aroused  great  enthusiasm  among 
the  Oakland  people,  and  we  have  great  hopes  of  taking  an  Eastern 
tour.  We  are  only  awaiting  the  formation  of  the  Big  League 
to  go  right  to  work,  and  we  have  a  big  job  on  hand.  I  suppose 
that  the  Field  Day  will  be  held  about  the  latter  part  of  June,  and 
that  the  list  o£  events  will  be  made  to  coincide  exactly  with  the 
Inter-collegiate  programme.  If  we  came  East  we  could  doubtless 
make  arrangements  for  a  series  of  dual  games  with  three  or  four 
of  the  crack  schools  in  the  vicinity  of  New  York  in  addition 
to  [be  Big  Field  Day.  Of  course  this  could  all  be  arranged 
later  on  ;  what  we  are  worried  about  now  is  getting  started.  I 
wish  you  would  prod  the  schools  up  and  get  them  to  take  imme- 
diate action.  We  want  to  get  to  work  right  away,  for  to  raise 
$3000  is  quite  a  job.  The  U.C.  boys  are  in  favor  of  the  trip,  and 
will  help  us  in  every  way.  I  wish  you  would  inform  us  of  any 
steps  taken  in  this  regard,  ami  also  put  us  in  touch  with  the  offi- 
cers, so  we  could  correspond  with  them.  Would  it  be  necessary 
to  be  the  winning  or  champion  team  of  our  league  to  join  in  the 
Field  Day,  or  could  the  O.H.-S.  alone  join  the  League  and  uphold 
the  honor  of  California  in  the  scholastic  world  in  the  East?" 

It  strikes  me  that  the  New  York  I.S.A.A.  will  lose  an 
opportunity  that  may  never  offer  again  if  it  fails  now  to 
take  the  initiative  in  the  formation  and  foundation  of  the 
National  Interscholastic  Athletic  Association  of  America. 

LAWRENCKVILLE  OPENED  LAST  THURSDAY,  and  the  foot- 
ball men  went  to  work  at  once.  Some  of  the  old  players 
got  back  a  week  earlier, an. d  saw  to  it  that  the  eight  fields 
\\c-re  put  into  shape,  and  laid  out,  and  now  every  afternoon 
one  may  see  sixteen  elevens  hard  at  work  rushing  and 
kicking  and  otherwise  developing  new  material.  This 
system  of  requiring  everybody  to  join  in  the  game  is  an 
excellent  one.  The  boys  at  Lawreuceville  are  arranged 


according  to  size,  and  are  taught  how  to  play,  and  thus  it 
is  plain  that  in  the  course  of  a  year  or  two  the  Captain  of 
the  school  team  has  plenty  of  good  material  to  pick  from. 
The  first  and  second  teams  have  the  additional  advantage 
of  being  coached  by  some  of  the  instructors  who  were  star 
football  players  in  their  college  days,  and  the  benefit  of 
whose  experience  goes  largely  toward  making  the  Law- 
renceville  eleven  the  successful  one  that  it  usually  is. 

LAST  YEAR,  FOR  INSTANCE,  Lawrencevillb  defeated  the 
Hill  School,  'j'J-0,  the  Yah1  Freshmen,  16—0,  and  Audover, 
20-6,  besides  disposing  of  every  other  school  team  they  met. 
They  tried  to  arrange  a  game  with  the  Princeton  'Varsity, 
but  were  not  successful,  for  the  reason,  they  believe,  that 
in  1803  they  scored  4—8  on  the  orange  and  black  champions. 
Of  course  this  is  probably  not  the  reason,  for  Princeton 
should  be  only  too  glad  to  get  such  excellent  practice  even 
from  a  school  team,  and  this  year  no  donbt  there  will  be  a 
match,  and  another  probably  with  the  University  of  Penn- 
sylvania. 

A    FEATURE    OF    THE   FOOTBALL   RECORD    of    this    school, 

which  it  is  pleasing  to  be  able  to  call  attention  to,  is  that 
in  the  twelve  years  the  game  has  been  played  there  no 
dispute  has  ever  arisen  and  no  serious  accident  has  oc- 
curred. Moreover,  as  far  as  I  am  able  to  ascertain,  no  boy. 
ever  went  to  the  school  because  he  could  play  football. 
All  this  tends  to  create  a  genuine  and  healthy  interest  in 
the  sport,  and  not  only  the  scholars  themselves,  but  the 
graduates  of  the  school  take  pride  in  such  a  record.  This 
is  shown  by  the  fact  that  the  Alumni  have  presented  a 
$300  cup  for  class  championship  contests,  each  winning 
class  getting  its  numeral  engraved  upon  the  trophy ;  and 
an  alumnus  has  also  ottered  a  cup  to  be  played  for  by  the 
House  teams,  and  to  become  the  property  of  the  House 
winning  the  greatest  number  of  times  within  ten  years. 
The  boys  live  in  Houses  at  Lawreuceville,  as  they  do  at 
Rugby  and  Harrow,  and  each  House  has  its  eleven. 

Or  LAST  YEAR'S  FIRST  SCHOOL  TEAM  five  men  return: 
Emerson,  full-back ;  Dibble  and  Davis,  half-backs;  Cad- 
walader  and  Edwards,  guards.  This  is  a  first-rate  nucleus, 
and  Dibble,  the  new  Captain,  is  expected  to  bring  forward 
a  team  equal,  if  not  superior,  to  that  of  last  year.  There 
are  few  better  half-backs  in  the  schools  than  Dibble.  He 
is  a  great  sprinter,  having  covered  the  100  in  10  seconds 
at  the  school  games  last  June.  Davis,  the  other  half-back, 
and  Emerson,  the  full-back,  will  surely  improve  this  fall 
over  their  last  year's  style,  while  no  better  guards  are  ne- 
cessary than  Cadwalader  and  Edwards.  They  weigh  210 
and  218  pounds  respectively. 

THE  CANDIDATES  FOR  END  RUSH  are  Noble  and  Rigbter, 
and  unless  some  new  pheuonieuons  develop,  they  will  hold 
the  positions.  The  tackles  will  have  to  be  taken  from  the 
incoming  classes,  and  the  hardest  position  to  till  will  be 
quarter-back.  Captain  Dibble  may  well  watch  the  pliiy 
of  the  inau  in  this  position,  if  he  expects  the  team  to  be 
engineered  as  well  as  De  Saulles  did  it  last  year.  De 
Saulles  is  a  wonderful  quarter-back,  and  will  no  doubt 
make  the  Yale  'Varsity  in  a  year  or  so.  A  large  number 
of  new  Fourth  Form  boys,  or  SeTiiors,  have  been  entered 
this  fall,  and  it  will  be  strange  if  in  a  school  of  350  enough 
available  material  cannot  be  trained  to  bring  the  eleven 
up  to  its  usual  standard  of  excellence. 

THE  TEAMS  OF  THE  NEW  ENGLAND  LEAGUE  are  also  in 
the  field,  and  in  a  few  days  practice  games  between  schools 
will  begin.  Boston  Latin  is  scheduled  to  meet  Charlestowu 
High  to-morrow,  and  English  High  meets  Dorchester  on  the 
same  day.  There  is  unusual  promise  of  good  new  material 
c\  ny  where,  and  the  championship  matches  ought  toifur- 
uish  good  football.  Only  three  members  of  the  Cambridge 
Manual  Training  School's  champion  eleven  are  back  this 
fall,  and  the  candidates  for  positions  are  mostly  small,  light- 
men.  Captain  Murphy,  however,  has  signified  his  intention 
of  t  lying  to  make  up  for  the  probable  lightness  of  his  team 
by  perfecting  it  in  team  work. 


970 


HAEPEE'S   EOUND   TABLE 


THE  BOSTON  LATIN-  Srii.iur,  \v;:s  the  first 
to  get  its  men  into  training,  and  has  a  start 
of  nearly  a  week  over  its  rivals.  Many  of 
last  year's  players  have  returned  to  school, 
and  most  of  tln'iu  are  heavy  fellows.  Lowe, 
oue  of  the  guards,  is  t,ho  biggest  man  <it  I  he 
aggregation,  and  weighs 210 pounds.  Kadm 
at  centre  vs'igli.s  I'.H  pounds,  and  his  <>i  her 
guard,  Xagle,  tips  the  scales  at  185.  'II:.  se 
tluvr  have  jilayecl  together  for  B.L.S.  for 
the  pas*  three  \. MIS,  and  are  undoubtedly 
the  strongest  ceutre  in  the  League.  The 
cackle  positions  are  open,  and  one  of  them 
will  probably  be  tilled  !>.\  l.'.,iil<in.  who  was 
a  substitute  last  year.  D.  Lockiu,  who 
showed  some  of  the  liest  end  work  of  any 
of  the  school  players,  is  back  in  his  old  po- 
sition. 

CAPTAIX  MAOUIKE  WILL  KEEP  HIS  OLD 
place  at  full-back,  and  ought  to  manage  to 
develop  a  strong  eleven.  He  is  familiar  with 
the  line  points  of  the  game,  and  has  been  a 
member  of  the  team  for  two  years  past. 
Last  year  he  proved  himself  oue  of  the  clev- 
erest ground-gainers  in  the  League,  and  in 
the  game  with  English  High  bis  punting 
aided  materially  toward  the  securing  of 
victory.  His  tackling  and  interfering  have 
improved,  and  will  doubtless  grow  better  as 
the  season  advances. 

THE  SHOWING  MADE  in  the  early  work  of 
the  English  High -School  players  has  not 
been  very  encouraging  thus  far.  Like  the 
C.M.T.S.  men,  the  candidates  are  small,  but 
all  of  them  are  apparently  hard  workers. 
It  is  fortunate  for  Captain  Callahau  that 
there  are  not  so  very  many  positions  to  fill, 
but  on  the  other  hand  the  vacancies  occur 
in  places  where  strong  and  reliable  players 
are  required.  If  things  are  allowed  to  run 
along  in  the  slipshod  way  that  character- 
ized E.H.-S.'s  endeavors  last  year,  however, 
the  team  will  be  a  poorer  one  than  has  rep- 
resented the  school  for  some  time.  Only 
continuous  and  careful  work  can  bring  the 
team  into  championship  form. 

THE  TWO  SCHOLASTIC  REPRESENTATIVES 
iii  the  A.A.U.  championships  at  Manhattan 
Field  on  the  141  h  managed  to  hold  their  ends 
up  pretty  well.  Baltazzi  took  second  to 
Sweeney  in  the  higli  jump,  with  5  feet  lOi 
inches,  defeating  Cosgrove,  and  Syrne  got 
first  in  the  low  hurdles.  He  ran  his  trial 
heat  in  26f  seconds,  but  got  the  medal  with 
28J  seconds.  His  victory  was  in  some  re- 
spects a  repetition  of  his  success  at  Syra- 
cuse in  the  Metropolitan  championships. 
There  he  met  Sheldon  and  Chase,  the  latter 
falling  over  the  eighth  hurdle.  At  Man- 
hattan Field,  Cosgrove  led  up  to  the  ninth 
hurdle  in  the  trials,  and  then  took  a  crop- 
per, leaving  Syrne  to  win  the  heat.  In  the 
finals,  Syme  and  Cady  had  it  neck  and  neck 
to  this  same  ninth,  when  the  scholastic  run- 
ner struck  the  timber  so  heavily  as  to  break 
it,  but  recovered  in  time  to  see  Cady  go  som- 
ersaulting over  the  tenth.  Before  the  Vale 
man  could  recover,  Syme  had  breasted  the 
tape.  THE  GRADUATE. 


of  the  large  dry-goo, Is  simps  was  found  to 
have  been  carrying  what  e\ervliody  sup- 
posed  to  be  a  baby;  but  what  in  realitj 
turned  out  to  be  a  huge  doll  with  a  was 
face  and  hollow  leathern  body.  It  was  the 
.thief's  custom  to  conceal  the  stolen  articles 
as  quickly  as  she  got  her  lingers  on  them, 
gloves,  laces,  and  so  forth, in  the  cavernous 
and  spacious  interior  of  the  "  baby." 

SOME  STKANGE  VISITING- 
CARDS. 

CALLING  in  Corea  must  he  a  very  dilli- 
cult  performance,  if,  as  a  London  jour- 
nal has  recently  stated,  the  ordinary  visit- 
ing-cards there  are  a  foot  square.  The  same 
journal  goes  on  to  say  that  the  savages  of 
Dahomey  announce  their  visits  to  each  oth- 
er by  a  wooden  board  or  the  branch  of  a 
tree  artistically  carved.  This  is  sent  on  in 
advance,  and  the  visitor,  on  taking  leave, 
pockets  his  card,  which  probably  serves  him 
for  many  years.  The  natives  of  Sumatra 
also  have  a  visiting-card,  consisting  of  a 
piece  of  wood  about  a  foot  long  and  decor- 
ated with  a  hunch  of  straw  and  a  knife. 


A   NEW  USE  FOR  A  DOLL. 

ANEW  use  for  a  doll  has  been  discovered 
by  an  ingenious  London  thief.     A  wo- 
man who  was  arrested  for  stealing  from  one 


So.MK    NOVEL    RACES. 

A  LONDON  newspaper  some  \ears  ago 
contained  an  account  of  a  si  range'  -.ml 
of  contest  which  two  noblemen  on,,  gol  >i|, 
for  their  own  amusement.  It  consisted  of 
marching  a  tlock  of  turkeys  and  a  lloi-U  of 
geese  for  a  race  on  the  I,, union  and  Nor- 
wich road,  in  the  middle  of  the  last  century. 
The  turkeys  would  insist  upon  (lying  up 
into  the  roadside  trees  to  roost ;  while  the 
geese,  keeping  up  a  steady  waddle  all  night, 
reached  London  from  .Norwich  two  days 
ahead.  The  same'  journal  also  mentions  the 
feats  of  the  Hon.  Tom  Coventry's  ^priming 
pig.  In  1803  this  speedy  animal  was  mat,  h,  ,1 
against  a  celebrated  runner,  and  started  a 
strong  favorite  on  the  day  of  the  rare.  \\  hirh 
she  won  with  ease.  The  pig  had  been 
trained  to  run  the  distance  each  day  for  its 
dinner.  Another  strange  contest  of  rhis 
time  took  place  be!  ween  I  wo  sporting  noble- 
men, who  raced  against  cadi  other  on  a 
windy  day  on  Hampslead  Heath,  one  run- 
ning backwards  in  jack-boots,  and  the  other 
holding  up  an  open  umbrella,  and  running 
forwards. 


Highest  of  all  in  Leavening  Strength. —  Latest  U.  S.  Gov't  Report 


Baking 

Powder 

ABSOLUTELY  PURE 


Dress  Goods 

English  and  Scotch  Mixed  Suit- 
ing's, French  Boueles,  Jaequards, 
Crepons,  Bourette  and  Tufted 
Vigognes. 

English  Mohairs  and  Mohair  and 
Wool  Mixtures. 

Scotch  Tartans  and  French 
Plaids,  English  and  French  Diago- 
nals in  Cloth  colors;  Crepes,  Cash- 
meres, and  novelties  in  Silk  and 
Wool  fabrics  for  evening  wear. 


\ 


NEW  YORK. 


971 


dmmrnt  la  fts 


u 

the  best  things  in  Prose  and  Poetry,  always  includ- 

JtiCT-  onrwl   Slniiirt;    aiiH     T-Tvinn«         J[    jg  Surprising  HOW 

ins  to  be  done  in 
m  the  small  nu  til- 


ing good  Songs  and  Hyuius.     It  is 

little  good  work  of  this  kind  seen 

the  Schools,  if  one  must  judge  from  the  small  num- 

ber of  people  who  can  repeat,  without  mistake  or 

omission,  as  many  as  Three  good  songs  or  hymns- 

Sfetr,  jSfjarp,  Jbfimb, 

and  accurate  Memory  work  is  a  most  excellent 
thing,  whether  in  School  or  out  of  it,  among  all  ages 
and  all  classes.  But  let  that  which  is  so  learnt  -il  be 
worth  learning  and  worth  retaining.  The  Franklin 
Square  Song  Collection  presents  a  large  number  of 


anh  If  tro 


and  Hymns,  in  great  variety  and  very  carefully 
selected,  comprising  Sixteen  Hundred  in  the  Ei^ht 
Numbers    thus    far    issued,    together    with    much 
choice  and  profitable  Reading  Matter  rel;it 
Music  and  Musicians.     In  the  complete  and  varied 


of  Gtmltnb. 


which  is  sent  free  on  application  to  the  Publi^lu-rs. 
there  are  found  dozens  of  the  best  things  in  the 
World,  which  are  well  worth  committing  to  mem- 
ory; and  they  who  know  most  of  such  good  things, 

;nid    Appreciate   ;md   enjoy   them    most     ,tr<_    n.allv 
among  the  best  educated  people  in  any  country. 
They  have  the  best  result  of  Education.     Fu- 
Contents,  with  sample  pages  of  Music,  cid'"; 

Harper  &  Brothers.  Wew  York. 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Bicycle  route. 
Fair  bicyc/e  road 

y  Station. 

poor  road 


•i/%c3rnra 


BICYCLING 


This  Department  is  conducted  in  the  interest  of  Bicyclers,  :>nd  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to 
answer  any  question  on  the  subject.  Our  maps  and  tours  conutin  mnch  valuable  data  kindly 
supplied  from  the  official  maps  and  road-books  of  the  League  ol  American  Wheelmen.  Recog- 
nizing the  value  of  the  work  being  di.ne  by  the  L  A.  W.,  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to  furuisa 
subscribers  with  membership  blanks  and  information  so  far  as  possible 

T1HE  THIRD  STAGE  of  the  trip  from  New  York  to  Boston 
by  the  shore  road  demands  our  attention  this  weeic. 
It  extends  from  Now  Haven  to  New  London,  a  distance  of 
forty-five  miles  or  more,  and  though  the  rider  can,  if  ho 
desires,  stop  at  Saybrook,  thirty- three  miles  distant  from 
New  Haven,  it  is  wiser  to  make  tlie  run  to  New  London  in  one 
day,  as  the  accommodations  at  New  London  are  better, 
and  the  next  stage,  from  New  London  to  Shanuuck,  which 
comes  on  the  next  day,  is  much  lighter. 

LEAVING  NEW  HAVEN  and  going  eastward  the  rider 
should  keep  always  to  the  right  on  going  into  the  suburbs 
of  the  city, and  continue  to  the  south  ot'Fair  Haven  through 
East  Haven.  One  and  a  half  or  two  miles  out  of  East 
Haven  the  road  crosses  the  railroad  track,  and  then  runs 
on  another  mile  into  BranforU,  whicli  is  eight  miles  from 
New  Haven.  From  Brauford  the  road  is,  in  the  main, 
easily  followed,  the  general  tendency  being  to  keep  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  railroad,  and  near  the  shore  of  Long  Island 
Sound.  It  is  well  for  the  rider,  where  possible,  outside  of 
villages,  to  take  the  side  path,  as  the  road  is  not  in  the  best 
of  condition  in  certain  places,  and  the  side  path  is  usually 
very  good.  From  Bran  ford  to  Stony  Creek  is  a  distance 
of  about  three  miles.  Thence  to  Leetes  Island,  two  miles 
further,  where  the  road  is  clear,  there  is  little  to  be  de- 
scribed. There  are  almost  no  hills  of  importance,  and  the 
side  path  usually  offers  a  very  good  substitute  for  the  road 
itself  when  the  latter  becomes  sandy. 

FROM  LEETES  ISLAND  to  Guilford,  about  three  miles 
further  on,  the  road  winds  about  a  good  deal,  crossing  the 
railroad  track  twice  before  entering  Guilford  in  order  to 
make  a  detour  to  the  north  and  cross  a  creek.  After  leav- 
ing Guilford  the  road  runs  down  close  by  the  shore,  and 
keeps  its  position  in  passing  East  River  and  Madison. 
Between  Madison  and  Clinton,  and  between  Clinton  and 
Grove  Beach,  a  distance  altogether  of  between  h've  and 
six  miles,  the  road  is  lair  in  general  and  very  poor  in  spots. 
The  side  path  should  be  taken  wherever  available,  but, 
everything  considered,  it  is  not  one  of  the  best  bicycle 
roads  that  could  be  desired.  From  Grove  Beach  into  Say- 
brook,  a  distance  of  six  miles,  the  rider  passes  through 
West-brook,  and  the  road  does  not  alter  its  condition,  being 
in  the  main  fair,  but  very  sandy  in  spots. 

IF  POSSIBLE,  THE  RIDER  should  start  from  New  Haven 
early  in  the  morning,  and  make  Saybrook  some  time  about 
noon,  stopping  there  for  lunch  or  dinner.  This  is  a  dis- 
tance of  thirty -three  miles  altogether.  To  be  sure,  it  only 
leaves  a  run  of  thirteen  or  fourteen  miles  to  New  London, 
but  the  accommodations  there  are  so  much  better  than 
along  the  line  that  it  is  advisable  to  try  and  reach  it,  and 
at  the  same  time  it  is  always  well  to  do  more  than  half 
the  journey  in  the  morning.  Leaving  Saybrook  the  rider 
should  proceed,  still  on  the  turnpike,  to  the  Connecticut 
Ivivt-r  bank  at  Lyme  Ferry.  Crossing  by  this  he  turns  to 
tlie  right  and  runs  into  Lyme  over  a  capital  road.  Thence 
tin-  road  runs  along  over  a  reasonably  ^ood  bit  of  country 
to  the  north  of  the  railroad  into  South  Lyme,  live  miles 
further  on,  with  the  exception  of  a  spot  a  mile  or  more  be- 
yond Black  Haii,  where  the  road  crosses  a  creek  and  is  poor 


Copyright,  1S9S,  by  Harper  A  Brothers. 


,n  to  Babylon  in  No.  815.     Brooklyn  to  N( ,, 

Tjirrytown  to  Po'n^hkeept-ie  in  No.  S17.  PoaghktjepBie  to  Hudson  in 
No.  818.  Hudson  t.o  Albany  in  No.  819  Toi  l<-m  ilie  I"  Trenton  in  820. 
IVnton  10  Philadelphia  in  821.  Philadelphia  in  No.  822.  Philadelphia 
\ViM-aliiclion  Route  in  No.  823  Philadelphia  In  \Vi-M  rhrster  in  No. 
824.  Philadelphia  to  Atlantic  City— First  St»(rr  i"  N" .  sas ;  Second 
Stjige  in  No.  826  Philadelphia  to  Vinelund  —  First  Stage  in  N»  327. 
Second  Staye  in  No.  828.  New  York  to  Boston— Second  Stage  in  No.  829. 


HAEPER'S   ROUND   TAliLE 


riding  for  a  short  space.  From  South  Lyme 
to  Niaiilic-  is  about  three  miles,  and  after 
passing  East  Lyine,  a  short  distance  out  of 
Juan  tic,  the  rider  crosses  a  long  bridge  over 
an  inlet  of  the  Sound.  From  this  point, 
keeping  to  the  left  just  after  crossing  the 
bridge,  he  runs  through  Jordanville  into 
Nc\v  London,  :iml  may  there  put  up  at  the 
Crocker  House  in  the  middle  of  the  town. 

THERE  ARE  SEVERAL  ALTERNATIVES  over 
the  last  part  of  the  course.  For  example, 
after  crossing  the  Lyme  Ferry  and  passing 
through  Lynic,  instead  of  keeping  to  the 
right  it  is  possible  for  the  rider  to  turn  to 
the  left,  and  follow  the  secondary  bicycle 
route  marked  on  the  map,  which,  on  the 
whole,  is  neither  as  short  nor  as  good  rid- 
ing as  the  other.  The  road  passes  through 
Grauiteville  and  joins  the  turnpike  -  re. ;id 
near  Jordanville.  In  the  case  of  a  strong 
head  wind,  especially  if  it  is  a  little  to  the 
southward  of  east,  it  will  save  a  great  deal 
of  time  and  labor  for  the  rider  to  take  this 
more  inland  route.  On  the  southern  route, 
after  passing  Niantic  and  East  Lyme  and 
crossing  Hie  long  bridge,  the  rider  may  turn 
sharp  to  the  right,  follow  the  route,  marked 
on  the  map,  crossing  another  inlet  of  the, 
Sound,  leaving  Jordanville  on  the  north,  and 
thence  run  on  to  the  month  of  the  Thames 
River,  where  he  can  put  up  at  the  Pequot 
House,  a  summer  hotel,  which  will  be  a  wel- 
come place  after  such  a  ride. 


r 


STAMP'S, 


This  Department    is    conducted  in  the  iutem 
colU  -tors,  and  the  Editor  will  b*  pleased  to  am 
these  subjects  so  fur  as  possible.     Co rrespon dents  should  adtlrt 
Stamp  Department. 


T 


Duke  of  York  is   prepared  to  sell   liis 


highest  bidder.  Lord  Rothschild  has  made 
the  most  liberal  otferthus  tar,  but  he  would 
prefer  to  buy  the  rarest  specimens  only. 

C.  B.  AnuKV.— U.  S.  stamps  are  printed  on  plates  of 
200  or  400  stamps  divided  iuto  panes  of  1UU  stamps 
each.  A  sheet,  of  100  stamps  as  sold  by  the  Post-Oflice 
is  one  of  these  panes.  Every  plate  bears  a  unmlier, 
and  this  number  is  printed  on  the  margin  of  each 
pane.  For  instance,  the  current  2c.  red  is  printed 
from  plates  of  400  stamps  which,  alVr  printing,  is  cut 
into  four  sheets.  I  illustrate  plate  No.  112. 
No.  112.  N".  112. 


No.  112.  No.  112. 

I  know  of  no  stamp  chapter  in  Newark. 
II.  B.  THAW.— The  12  sen  1875,  Japan,  is  worth  70c., 
the  15  sen,  same  issue,  60c. 


L,  M.  C.— Dealers  quote  two  varieties  of  the  halt- 
dime  of  1838,  one  at  Utc.,  the  other  at  30c. 

A.  Wum-KMOKie. — No  stamp  was  touud  in  your  en- 
velope when  opened. 

D.  C.  S— The  stamps  are  Costa  Eica  revenues. 
There  are  several  varieties  ot  0.  S.  Ic.  Proprietary 
worth  from  Ic.  to  lOc.  each. 

J.  K.  MOUI.AN.— The  current  Is.  Great  Britain  pos- 
tag'.'-'tainii  is  catalogued  at  2c.  if  used.  As  there  are 
many  thousand  varieties  of  North,  Central,  and  South 
American  stamps,  I  cannot  quote  values,  but  advise 
you  to  buy  a  catalogue. 

F..  H.  MAUUKU.—  The  81  values  of  U.  S.  poslage- 
stauips  are  largely  used  to  pay  postage  on  packages 
..i  I'oiMis  sent  from  the  U.  S.  lo  Europe.  The  "pink" 
1861  is  exiremi'ly  raiv.  It  is  a  peculiar  shade  which 
cannot  be  described  in  words. 

H.  L.  WATBOM,  Paris.— It  is  probably  a  fraud.  The 
only  Jones  Express  known  in  America  bears  Wash- 
ington's portrait,  and  is  printed  on  pinls  paper. 

A.  E.  BARROW. — No  coins  enclosed.  I  cannot  say 
what,  dealers  will  pay  for  stamps.  That  depend*  on 
snirrny,  condition,  and  quantity.  An  unsevered  pair 
of  any  scarce  stamp  is  always  worth  more  than  two 
single  stamps  of  the  same  kind.  The  Columbus  and 
1853  dollars  can  both  be  bought  from  dealers  at  a 
slight  .-idvance. 

D.  E.  POUTKK  — The  coin    is  a  Connecticut  cent 
dated  1187.     IJealels  catalogue  it  at  15c. 

J.  T.  DKLANO. — What  dealers  payjfor  coins  we  do 
noi  know.  You  can  buy  the  1832  half-dollar  in  good 
condition  for  75c.,  the  1853  quarter  for  S5c.,  the  1864 
two-cent  copper  for  lOc. 

P.  S  BimvKi.i.,  Ju».— No  premium  on  the  shilling. 

E.  B.  Tim'i'.— Dealers  quote  the  1857  and  1858  cents 
at  5c.  each,  1822  half-dollar  at  75c.,  silver  three-cent 
pieces  at  lOc. 

C.  MARTIN. — Levant  stamps  are  used  for  local  pur- 
poses, and  tor  prepayment  of  postage  on  letters  to  the 
home  countries. 

PHLLATUS. 


DON'T  WORRY  YOURSELF 

and  don't  worry  the  b;iby:  avoid  both  unpleasant  con- 
ditions by  giving  the  child  pure,  digestible  food. 
Don't  use  solid  preparations.  Infant  Health  is  a 
valuable  pamphlet  for  mothers.  Send  your  address  to 
the  New  York  Condensed  Milk  Company, N.Y.— (Adv.] 


You   Saa  Them   Everywhere 


Walter  Baker  4  Go.  Lilted, 

The  Largest  Manufacturers  of 

PURE,  HIGH  GRADE 

COCOAS  and  CHOCOLATES 

On  this  Continent,  have  roctivod 

HIGHEST  AWARDS 

from  the  greet 

Industrial  and  Food 
EXPOSITIONS 

\  IN  EUROPE  AND  AMERICA. 

Caution :   J^P'Tmiuu™6, 

of  the  labels  and  wrapper;*  on  our 
Coods,  consumer^  should  make  cure 
that  our  place  of  manufacture, 
'namely,  Dorchester,  .tl  :«•». 
u  printed  on  each  package. 


SO.-D  BY  GROCERS  EVERYWHERE. 


WALTER  BAKER  &  CO.  LTD.    DORCHESTER,    MASS. 


Any  man 
seeing  a 


Rugby 

Watch 


will  wish  himself  a  boy  again. 

Never  before  have  such  elegant  watches 
been  made  for  the  boys. 
Boys,  you  are  in  it   this   year,  suie. 
Send   for  "  Rugby  "  Catalogue,  and 
it  will  make  you  open  your  eyes. 

The  Waterbury  Watch  Co., 

202  Waterbury,  Conn. 


S  lamps, 


100  all  dif.  Venezuela. Bolivia. etc., only  lOc,: 
200  all  dit.  Hay  ti,  Hawaii, etc  ,"lily  Sl'i  .  A-  ''- 

w't'd at W per ct.com.    ListFRBB!   0.  A. 

StefJriiiaiin,.F>y41Cote  Briliante,Sl.Louis,Mo. 

rrtrr  25  STAMPS.  Japan,  Mexico,  Koumania,  etc., 

rriLL  for  2c.  si  amp;   100  all  dif.,  lOc.;  8  Samoa,  inc. 
J.    A.     WILSON,    1108    Fairmount,    Phila.,   Pa. 

29    varieties    of    genuine,    unused 
stamps    for    fiO   cents.      C'atalnL-iie 
value,  $3.41.    K.  X.  PAUKKK,  Bethlehem,  Ta. 


25 


var.foreign  stJimpsanrl  price-list  Tie--  for?r.  st;imj.. 
tXCKLSIOK  STAMP    CO.,  Keyport,  X.  J. 


ST  4  M  PS.    Hi"  lor  12c.;  40  U.S.,  25c.;  tio  r-ulibish. 
~_  60S  com.   KEYSTONE  STAMP  CO.,  Lebanon,  Pa. 


Harper's  Catalogue, 

Thoroughly  revised,  classified,  and  in- 
dexed, will  be  sent  by  mail  to  any  ad- 
dress on  receipt  of  ten  cents. 


973 


HARPER'S    ROUND    TABLE 


Our  Photographic  Prize  Competition. 

The  CameraC'lub  Department  of  HARPER'S  ROUND 
TABLE  is  t,lie  only  one  of  the  kind  published  regu- 
larly in  the  interests  aud  for  the  help  of  the  yuun^ 
amateur.  It  contains  matter  also  for  those  more 
advanced  in  the  art  of  photography.  Its  aim  is  to 
raise  the  standard  of  amateur  photography  amohg 
young  people,  and  to  direct  them  how  to  make  the 
best  use  of  their  cameras. 

To  stimulate  all  to  do  their  best,  the  ROUND  TABLE 
offers  prizes  for  the  best  specimens  of  photograph- 
ic work  submitted  by  the  members.  Any  ama- 
teur may  become  a  member  of  the  Camera  Club 
by  simply  sending  name  and  address  to  HAMPER'S 
ROUND  TABLE,  and  stating  that  you  wish  to  become 
a  member.  There  are  no  fees  or  dues.  Those 
wishing  to  become  members  are  asked  to  state  in 
their  application  whether  they  have  or  have  not 
passed  their  eighteenth  birthday.  Thuse  under 
eighteen  are  made  members,  aud  those  over  eigh- 
teen are  made  Patrons  of  the  Round  Table. 

The  following  are  our  annual  prize  offer.-;  \viru 
renditions.  Part  of  these  are  opeu  to  all  amateurs 
without  regard  to  age. 

PHOTOGRAPHIC  PRIZE  COMPETITION. 

CLASS  I.— HAUINKS. 

First  Prize $15 

Second  Prize 10 

Entries  iu  this  class  will  close  October  15, 1895. 

CLASS  II.— I^NUSC..i'ES. 

First  Prize $15 

Second  Prize 10 

Entries  in  this  class  will  close  November  15, 1895. 

CLASS  III.  — FIGURE  STUDIES. 

First  Prize $25 

Second  Priz    10 

Entries  in  this  class  will  close  December  15, 1895. 
RULES  OF  COMPETITION. 

1,  This  competition  is  open  to  all  Knights  and 
La-iie*  who  have  not  passed  their  eighteenth  birth- 
day. 

2.  All  photographs  offered  must  be  the  work  of 
the  competitor  from  the  exposure  of  the  plate  to 
the  mounting  of  the  finished  print. 

u.  No  photographs  must  be  sent  which  have  taken 
prizes  or  have  been  submitted  for  prizes  iu  other 
competitions. 

4.  No  picture  less  than  4  X  5  or  larger  than  8  X  10 
must  be  sent. 

u  Any  printing  process  may  be  used  with  the  ex- 
ception of  blue  prints. 

(J.  All  pictures  must  be  mounted,  but  not  framed, 
and  the  carriage  prepaid. 

7.  Each  picture  must  be  marked  with  the  name 
and  address  of  the  sender,  the  class  to  which  it  be- 
longs, and  the  statement  whether  or  not  the  artist 
has  passed  his  or  her  eighteenth  birthday.     No 
other  writing  is  necessary.    Any  picture  not  thus 
marked  will  be  ruled  out. 

8.  As  the  competition  closes  at  different  dates, 
all  entries  for  each  class  must  be  forwarded  not 
later  than  the  date  named  uuder  each  class.    The 
packet  must  be  marked  on  the  outside  "  Harper's 
Round  Table  Photographic  Competition,"  in  addi- 
titui  to  the  name  and  address  of  this  journal. 

OPEN  TO  ALL  AMATEURS. 
The  following  prizes  are  open  to  all  amateurs, 
without  regard  to  age  : 

CLASS  A.— LANDSCAPES. 

First  Prize $15 

Second  Prize 10 

Entries  in  this  class  will  close  November  1, 1895. 

CLASS   B. — FIGUKE    STUDT. 

First  Prize $25 

Sect »nd  Prize 10 

Entries  iu  this  class  will  close  December  15, 1895. 

RULES  OF  COMPETITION. 

1,  This  companion  is  open  to  all  amateur  pho- 
tographers, without  regard  to  age  limit. 

The  other  rules  governing  This  competition  are 
t.V-  same  as  t  Imse  in  the  competition  open  for  those 
who  have  not,  passed  their  eighteenth  birthday. 
Special  attentiou  is  called  to  Rules  3  and  7. 

JUDGING. 

Each  picnuv  submitted  in  eirher  competition 
will  be  judged  :  1  Originality  ;  ->.  Artistic  merits  of 

r'.iuiH'Mtion  ;  ;;  Illustrative  value;  4.  Technical  ex- 


cellence of  finish.  The  one  having  the  highest  per- 
centage receiving  the  highest  award  in  each  class, 
etc.  Pictures  which  fail  to  take  a  prize,  the  per- 
centage of  which  is  over  seventy,  will  receive  hon- 
orable mention. 

Please  pay  special  attentiou  to  the  different  dates 
at  which  the  classes  close.  This  plan  has  been 
adopted  to  simplify  the  work  of  handling  the  pic- 
tures. Photographs  which  do  not  take  prizes  or 
are  not  retained  tor  publication  will  be  returned 
to  the  senders  at  the  close  of  the  competition  if 
postage  is  enclosed. 

Watch  this  column  for  hints  in  regard  to  finishing 
pictures.  Class  No.  1,  "Marines,"  closes  first.  Ama- 
teurs living  in  waterports  take  notice. 


Help  for  those  Lovers  of  Figures. 

Answers  to  the  Turk  aud  Christian  and  Valet 
problems  published  last  week:  I.  Turk  and  Chris- 
tian Puzzle. — In  the  Latin  sentence  and  French 
verse  given,  attention  must  be  given  to  the  vowels 
o,  e,  i,  0,  u  contained  in  the  syllables,  letting  a  equal 
one,e  two,  i  three,  0  four,  and  u  five.  Begin  by  ar- 
ranging four  Christians  together,  because  the  vow- 
el iu  the  first  syllable  is  o  ;  then  five  Turks,  because 
the  vowel  in  the  second  syllable  is  u,  and  so  on  to 
the  end.  By  proceeding  in  this  manner,  it  will  be 
found,  taking  every  ninth  person  circularly,  begin- 
ning at  the  first  of  the  row,  that  the  lot  will  fall  en- 
tirely on  the  Turks. 

2.  Valet  Puzzle.— Two  valets  cross  first,  and  one 
of  them,  rowing  back,  carries  over  the  third  valet. 
One  of  the  three  valets  then  returns  with  the  boat, 
aud,  remaining,  allows  the  two  masters  whose  val- 
ets have  crossed  to  go  over  in  the  boat.  One  of 
the  masters  then  carries  back  his  valet,  and  leav- 
ing him  on  the  bank,  rows  over  the  third  master. 
In  the  last  place,  the  valet  who  crossed  enters  the 
boat,  and,  returning  twice,  carries  over  the  other 
two  valets. 


A  Famous  Chess  Problem. 

This  is  a  famous  problem,  aud  several  notable 
chess-players  of  the  old  school  have  amused  them- 
selves with  it: 

To  make  the  knight  move  into  all  the  squares  of  the 
chess-board  in  succession^  without  passing  twice  over 
the  same. 

Of  the  four  solutions  to  the  problem,  Demoivre's 
is  the  easiest  to  follow.  I  will  furnish  Montmort's, 

Mairau's,  or  M.  W 's  solution  to  any  member 

so  desiring,  provided  a  stamp  is  sent  for  reply. 
Following  is  Demoivre's  solution : 


34 

49 

22 

11 

36 

39 

24 

1 

21 

10 

35 

50 

S3 

IT 

37 

40 

48 

33 

63 

57 

38 

25 

a 

13 

9 

20 

51 

54 

._ 

60 

41 

2ii 

32 

47 

58 

61 

IT 

53 

14 

3 

19 

8 

55 

52 

59 

64 

27 

42 

40 

31 

6 

17 

44 

29 

4 

15 

7 

18 

45 

30 

V 

16 

43 

28 

VINCKNT  V.  M.  BEKDK,  R.  T.  F. 

17  WKBSTBB  PLACB,  EAST  OUANGK,  N.  J. 


Wants  a  Round  Table  Reunion. 

Those  of  us  who  were  in  Boston  during  the  week 
of  the  Templars' Conclave  will  never  forget  the  pa- 
rade. Twenty-five  thousand  men,  with  the  mot- 
to, "Frateruicy,"  "Fidelity,"  "Charity,"  marched 
from  eleven  o'clock  iu  °Uie  morning  to  six  in  the 
evening.  The  flying  banners,  emblematic  signs, 
playing  bands,  and  general  feeling  of  good-fellow- 
ship  all  combined  to  make  one  wish  that  the  Round 
Table  c<mM  have  Mime  similar  convenr.iou.  We 
have  the  same  friendly  feeling  towards  each  other ; 
we  have  emblems;  we  have  Chapters ;  and  we  have 
a  Imndreil  thousand  inemh'Ts. 

\\~hat,  could  we  not  do  in  a  three  days'  conven- 
tion? We  could  hold  our  nil-round  athletic  cham- 
pionship tournament  for  the  gold  medal ;  we  could 

1174 


have  an  exhibition  of  the  Table's  handicraft  work  ; 
we  could  organize  aud  have  a  "  Grand  Master," 
as  the  Templars  have  ;  aud  think  how  it  would 
"boom"  the  membership  aud  promote  good-fel- 
lowship. I,  for  oue,  am  iu  favor  of  holding  a  con- 
vention this  year  iu  New  York,  and  several  of  my 
correspondents  hold  the  same  ideas.  If  some  one 
with  a  "  planning  head  "  will  '•  take  hold  "  and  de- 
velop my  ideas  I  will  be  glad  to  hear  from  them. 

]9  OiiAriGs  STRKHT,  WOHCKSTHR,  MASS.  M.D.O. 

We  print  this  morsel  because  it  is  full  of  praise- 
worthy enthusiasm.  We  fear  that  our  Order  could 
uot  accomplish  what  an  old  fraternity  is  able  to. 
But  what  say  all  of  you? 


Answers  to  Kinks. 


No.  102. 


O 

O  N 
OWN 
OMEN 


3 

4. 

5.  O  N 


I  O  N 

O  B  T  A  I  N 

OP  I  N  I  O  N 

OB  T  U  S  I  O  N 

OB  J  E  C  T  I  ON 

OC  CUPATI  ON 

O  S  TEN  T  ATI  ON 

OB  LITE  HAT  ION 


No.  103. 

Puleheria— 1.  Peach.  S.  Munch.  3.  Calid.  4. 
Teach.  5.  Porch.  6.  Sleep.  7.  Force.  8.  Mitre. 
9.  Aster. 

No.  104. 

LANCE 


B    A 
T     I 

S 

T 

P    A    C 
C    R    E     A 


M  I     D 

E  T 

R 

I  N 


E    R 
T    E    D 


No.  105.— THE  SUPPER  TABLE. 

1.  Coffee.  3.  Buckwheat  cakes.  3.  Molasses. 
4.  Oysters.  5.  Tongue.  6.  Partridge.  7.  Crack- 
ers. 8.  Butter.  9.  Terrapin.  10  Radish.  11.  Port. 
12.  Champagne,  13.  Madeira.  14  Spirits.  15.  Po- 
tato. 16.  Turkey.  17.  Ham.  18.  Jam.  19.  Toast. 
20.  Fowl.  21.  Sole.  22.  Herring.  23.  Steak.  24. 
Croquette.  25-  Quail.  26.  Fig. 


(Questions  aut>  Huswers. 

It  is  not  known,  dear  Sir  Knight  Latham,  who 
was  the  wearer  of  the  Iron  Mask.  There  are  many 
theories,  but  no  positive  knowledge.  F.W.L.Buut- 
iug,  Abbott  Street,  Cairns,  Queensland,  Australia, 
is  a  Knight  who  is  fond  of  letter-writing,  and  a 
stamp  collector  in  for  trading.  He  wants  to  hear 
from  you.  Charles  E  Abbey,  Chester,  N.  J.,  asks 
if  James  Dixon,  a  former  prize-wiuner  in  one  or 
two  of  our  contests,  will  write  him.  He  wants  to 
trade  minerals  and  stones  with  anybody. 

Edith  Cliue,  Lewisberry,  Pa.,  wa.its  to  receive  a 
ribbon  with  your  name,  address  and  date.  She 
will  send  hers  Edith  F.  Morris  is  now  secretary 
of  the  Durham  Stamp  Exchange.  Her  address  is 
213  Third  Avenue,  New  York.  J.  Crispia  Bebb  is 
informed  that  there  has  been  no  change  in  the 
Table's  colors.  We  regret  yon  can  find  no  other 
Knights  in  Seattle.  Ask  for  some  blank  Patents 
and  give  them  to  friends.  Maybe  when  they  read 
on  the  last  page  of  the  Patent  the  advantages  of 
the  Table  they  will  consent  to  let  you  fill  out  a 
Patent  for  them. 

Fred  G.  Patterson,  Markleton,  Pa.,  had  a  live  rat- 
tlesnake which  he  was  willing  to  sell  to  the  highest 
bidder,  the  proceeds  to  go  to  the  School  Fund.  His 
best  bid  at  writing  was  $5.  Wonder  what  he  got, 
and  how  the  snake  is  doing  in  eaptivit.y  by  this 
time?  sir  John  II  Campbell  sends  us  the  yells  and 
colors  of  Vanderbilt  University  at.  Nashville,  Tenn.: 

"  Vamlt-rhilt  !  'Rah.  'Rail.  'Rah!  Whiz,  Boom! 
Zip.  Boom  !  'Rah,  'Rah,  'Hah  !  The  colors  are  old- 
gold  aud  black. 


HAEPEE'S   EOUND  TABLE 


TTbe  Helping  1baut>. 

I  want,  to  make  a  suggestion  bow  the  members 
in  this  city  can  raise  Borne  money  for  the  Fund.  It 
is  tn  (rive  a  "trolley  party."  I  suppose  you  know 
what  a  trolley  party  is.  A  party  of  young  people 
charter  a  car  for  the  evening,  and  ride  all  over  the 
city  and  into  the  suburbs.  The  trolley  party  is  a 
craze  iu  this  city  at  present.  It  is  very  common  to 
see  strings  of  illuminated  cars  coming  down  the 
streets  iu  twos,  generally  accompanied  by  a  band 
of  music.  It  was  not  long  ago  I  saw  a  large  trolley 
parly  of  sixty-five  cars  one  after  each  other;  This 
party  was  for  the  benefit  of  the  German  Hospital, 
and  was  a  great  success. 

Don't  you  think  a  trolley  party  could  be  gotten 
up  iu  this  city  if  all  the  members  were  iu  real  sym- 
pathy with  the  Order's  work?  I  think  we  could 
easily  give  a  trolley  party,  say,  some  week  in  Octo- 
ber. Mr.  Putton  has  consented  to  help  me,  and  we 
want  at  least  three  more  members  iu  this  city  aged 
about  sixteen  years.  The  cost  of  a  party  varies 
according  to  the  distance  and  the  electrical  dec- 
orations. 

There  are  several  fine  routes.  Germantown, 
Chestnut,  Hill,  Angora,  Darby,  and  Willow  Grove. 
The  two  last  ones  are  preferable  on  account  of  the 
length  of  the  lines.  The  cost  is  about  $16  per  car, 
decorated.  We  need  at  least  three  things  for  a 
success  financially— united  action  on  the  part  of 
the  members,  publicity,  and  a  good  nisiht 

CHAULES  C.  CANFJELD. 

FAIRUUUNT  STATION,  PHILADELPHIA,  PA. 

This  is  an  admirable  suggestion.  Let  us  hear 
from  all  Quaker  City  members  who  will  go. 


Origin  of  Three  Common  Things. 

Some  of  our  most  common  symbols  have  inter- 
esting derivations.  Take,  for  instance,  the  dollar 
sign  ($).  which  every  one  knows  and  loves— to  a 
more  or  less  extent.  Several  explanations  have 
been  given  of  its  origin.  The  most  probable  is  that 
it  is  a  modification  of  the  figure  8,  denoting  the  fa- 
mous "piece  of  eight"  of  pirate  lure,  a  Spanish 
silver  piece  of  the  value  of  our  dollar.  Another 
theory  is  that  it  represents  the  scroll  and  pillars 
depicted  on  certain  Spanish  coins.  Still  another 
makes  us  question  whether  it  is  not  u  monogram 
of  the  letters  "U.S."  It  has  even  been  state. 1  that 
this  mark  at  one  time  appeared  on  the  flag  of  Sara- 
gossa,  a  city  famous  for  its  two  months'  siege  by 
the  French  in  1808. 

The  symbol  B,  standing  for  i-efi/ie—  take-  was  ori- 
ginally V.a.  sign  placed  at  the  head  of  a  medical 
formula  to  propitiate  Jove,  that  the  compound 
might  act  favorably.  The  character  &,  formerly 
written  3.  is  a  corruption  of  the  Latin  word  et,  the 
letters  being  written  as  one. 


Hunting  Deer  in  California. 

I  wish  you  could  see  the  picturesque  spot  where 
we  are  spending  tne  summer.  We  are  iu  a  deep 
c.iniin.  surrounded  by  the  Santa  Cruz  Mountains, 
all  of  -them  over  2000  feet  high.  Llagas  Creek, 
which  abounds  in  cataracts,  runs  through  the  ra- 
vine. But  the  attractive  feature  of  the  place  is 
that  deer  abounds  on  the  hill-sides.  The  season 
opened  on  the  15th  of  July.  At  three  o'clock  on 
that  morning  thirteen  hunters,  dressed  in  leggings 
and  corduroys,  mounted  their  horses  aud  started 
out,  followed  by  a  large  pack  of  hounds,  for  the 
deer  haunts. 

The  leader  of  the  party  iu  an  hour's  time  had 
reached  a  convenient  spot  and  divided  his  men 
into  sets  of  two  or  three,  stationing  them  iu  cer- 
tain spots  where  the  deer,  scented  by  the  dogs, 
would  be  likely  to  pass.  Within  three  hours'  time 
we  heard  the  crack  of  rifles,  and  then  the  blowing 
of  the  horns  brought  us  the  joyful  news  that  the 
hunters  had  been  successful.  By  eight  o'clock  the 
party  returned  to  tue  house,  one  of  them  leading 
on  the  back  of  a  horse  a  fine  buck  weighing  100 
pounds,  exclusive  of  head  and  antlers.  To-day  we 
have  been  feasting  from  some  choice  bits,  aud  feel 
that  though  we  did  not  do  the  shooting  ourselves, 
we  were  decidedly  "in  it.'' 

LLAG.S.CAL.  GB1IALD1NE  SCUPHAM. 


IVORY  SOAP 


PURE 


Have  you  noticed  when  discussing  household  affairs  with  other 
ladies  that  each  one  has  found  some  special  use  for  Ivory  Soap,  usually 
the  cleansing  of  some  article  that  it  was  supposed  could  not  be  safely 
cleaned  at  home. 


THE  PROCTER  ft  GAMBLE  Co.,  Om'Tl. 


Oh,  Boys  and  Girls, 

AND  ALL   WHO   ARE    YOUNG   AT    HEART 
IF  NOT  IN  YEARS, 

HERE  IS  FUN  FOB    YOU! 

WATERLOO  is  novel  and  exciting!     It 

costs  $1.25   ($1.50,  express  prepaid  from 
publishers).    It  is  one  of  the  famous 

Parker  Games 

Our  Illustrated  Catalogue,  including  "  Inno- 
cents Abroad,"  "Chivalry,"  "Authors," 
"Napoleon,"  "Yankee  Doodle,"  and  100 
others,  for  two-cent  stamp.  "  Brownies  "  and 
"  Wonderland,"  by  mail,  35  cents  each.  Look 
for  the  imprint 

PARKER  BROTHERS,  Salem,  Mass.,  U.S. A. 


OFFICIAL  ANNOUNCEMENT  <*  the  award 

CILLOTT'S  PE  N  Sat  the  CHICAGO  EXPOSITION. 
•"AiVAIJD:  "  For  excellence  of  steel  used  in  their 
manufacture,  it  bein^  line  irmined  and  elastic  ;  super- 
ior workmanship,  especially  shown  by  the  careful 
grinding  which  leaves  the  pe'ns  free  from  defects.  The 
tempering  is  excellent  and  the  action  of  the  finished 
pens  perfect."  (Signed)  FRANZ  VOGT, 

(  H.  I.  KIMBALL,  IndividitalJudge 

Approved:-         Pres't  D^xirtmental  Committee. 

(JOHN  JiOYD  THACHER.  « 

Chairman  Exec,  Com.  on  Awards. 


unpin  PERIODIC^. 

Fer  Year: 

HAKPEK'S  MAGAZINE J'uala,/e  F, et,  $4  liu 

HAMPER'S  WEEKLY 4  lia 

HARl'ER'S  BAZAR "  4  00 

HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE...  "  8  DO 


Bwikvellerv  and  Potitmaitterti  usually  receive  f*ubs<  i  ij>- 
tionti.  Suln*crii>tionx  *ent  direct  to  the  publishers  should 
be  ac«nnt>ftui>'<i  bit  I'vst-u/ice  Money  Order  or  btafl. 


H  UiPEK  &  BHOTHEItS,  Sew  York,  N.  Y. 


PUBLISHED    TO-DAY: 

Snow-shoes  and  Sledges 

A  Sequel  to  "  The  Fur-Seal's  Tooth."      By  KIRK  MUNROE. 

Illustrated.       Post  Svo,  Cloth,  Ornamental. 

Mr.  Munroe  long  ago  established  himself  as  one  of  our  ablest  juvenile 
writers,  and  this  latest  work  from  his  pen  is  perhaps  the  best  that  he  has  pub- 
lished. The  story  continues  the  adventures  of  two  boys — Phil  Ryder,  a  Xe\v- 
Englander,  and  Serge  Belcofsky,  an  Alaskan— from  St.  Michaels,  in  the  northern 
part  of  Alaska,  through  a  2ooo-mile  trip  witli  dog  sleds  and  snow-shoes  up  the 
Yukon  River  and  across  the  mountains  to  Sitka. 

BY  THE    SAME   AUTHOR: 

THE  FUR-SEAL'S  TOOTH.  —  RAFTMATES.  — CANOEMATES.  —  CAMI>M.\  1 1.>. 
DORYMATES.     Each  one  volume.     Illustrated.     Post  Svo,  Cloth,  >i   25. 

WAKULLA.— THE  FLAMIXI;<>  FEATHER.  —  DERRICK  STERLING.— Cum  si. \i.. 
JACK  &  Co.,  and  DELTA  BIXBV  :  Two  Stories.— Each  one  volume.  Illustrated. 
Square  i6mo,  Cloth,  $1  oo. 

HARPER   &    BROTHERS,  Publishers,  New  York 

'J75 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


GREEDY    THOMAS. 


BY     KATHARINE     P  Y  L  E. 


"No,  Thomas,  no,"  his  good  nurse  said. 

"  ludeed,  you  should  not  take 
At  tea-time  such  a  very  I.'MLT 

And  plummy  piece  of  cakt.-." 

In  vain  it  was  for  nurse  to  speak, 
Young  Thomas  paid  no  heed; 

The  slice  of  cake,  both  plum  aud  crumb, 
He  ate  with  eager  greed. 


But,  ah!  that  night,  when  all  the  house 
Was  wrapped  in  slumber  deep, 

Then  Thomas  had  a  dreadful  dream, 
For  he  was  fust  asleep. 

He  dreamed  he  was  a  plummy  cake 

Of  most  enormous  size. 
The  icing  was  his  nose  and  mouth, 

And  currants  were  his  eyes. 


He  dreamed  the  door  swung  softly  back, 

The  dream-man  entered  in; 
Aud  spectacles  were  on  his  nose, 

And  bristles  on  his  chin. 

He  held  a  great  knife  in  his  hand, 

And  tiptoed  to  the  bed. 
*'Oh,  pray  don't  cut!  I'm  not  a  cake, 

I'm  Tommy,"  Thomas  said. 


In  vain  to  speak,  for  Thomas  knew 
He  looked  too  brown  and  nice  ; 

He  saw  the  dream-man  lift  his  knife 
As  if  to  cut  a  slice, 

And    then  —  young    Thomas    shrieked    and 
woke, 

And  sat  up  straight  in  bed. 
"Oh,  dear!   I'll  never  eat  rich  cake 

Again  at  night,"  he  said. 


STORIES  BY  GRANDMA. 

SOME   TERRIBLE   ADVENTURES   WITH   WOLVES. 


RANDMA,"  said  Ralph,  "  what  do  you  suppose  Uucle 

yJT  Henry  said  f" 

"Well,"  answered  grandma,  "  it  wouldn't  surprise  me  if 
lie  said  it  was  a  cold  day,  or  —  : 

"No;  I  mean  what  do  you  suppose  he  told  me;  what 
kind  of  a  story?" 

"Oh,  dear!  your  uncle  Henry  is  such  a  hand  to  tell 
stories  that  I  could  hardly  guess.  About  animals,  I  sup- 
pose, though,  aud  nothing  smaller  than  elephants,  I'll  war- 
rant." 

"No;  wolves.  They  chased  him  onee.  Got  away  by 
climbing  a  tree  and  pulling  the  tree  up  after  him." 

"  Dear  me  !  what  an  extraordinary  occurrence  !'"  exclaim- 
ed grandma. 

"  Hut  do  you  believe  it,  grandma  .'"  asked  Ralph. 

"Oh  no;  certainly  not.  I  uever  believe  any  of  your 
uncle  Henry's  animal  stories." 

••  Well,"  said  Ralph,  slowly,  "  I've  been  a  little  afraid  of 
some  of  them  myself,  lie.  couldn't  pull  up  a  tree  he  was  in, 
could  he,  grandma?" 

"I  don't  believe  he  could,  unless  he  pulled  pretty  hard. 
I  remember  my  uncle  Henry  used  to  tell  a  wolf  story  when 


I  was  a  little  girl.  He  said  that  one 
day,  when  he  lived  in  Vermont,  two 
wolves  came  after  him,  and  he  ran  as 
fast  as  he  could.  Hy-and-by  he  be- 
gan to  get  tired.  Just  then  he  came 
to  a  big  rock,  half  as  big  as  a  house, 
and  leaped  upon  it.  The  wolves  were 
close  behind,  and  so  furious  that  they 
were  almost  or  quite  blind.  One 
rushed  around  the  rock  one  way,  and 
the  other  the  other  way.  They  met 
on  the  farther  side,  and  each  thought 
he  had  caught  Uncle  Henry,  and  they 
began  to  tight  like  cats  and  dogs. 
Pretty  soon  they  stopped  to  rest,  and 
saw  their  mistake,  aud  Uncle  Henry 
said  he  never  saw  two  wolves  look  so 
disgusted." 

"  Do  you  believe  that  story  ?"  asked 
Ralph.  ' 

"  Well,"  answered  grandma,  "  it 
does  seem  to  have  its  hard  points.  I 
think  he  may  have  stretched  it  a 
little." 

"Tell  me  a  true  wolf  story,  grand- 
ma," pleaded  Ralph. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  don't  know  any  more 
wolf  stories  —  except,  the  one  about 
Little  Red  Riding-hood.  Once  on  a 
time — 

"  Oh,  I've  heard  that,  grandma.  Tell 
uie  another  about  your  uncle  Henry." 
"  Well,  another  time,  when  Uncle 
Henry  was  living  in  Vermont  a  long 
time  ago,  two  wolves  came  and  sat 
down  on  his  door-step.  His  house  was 
a  little  log  cabin  with  only  one  door. 
It  was  a  very  cold  winter,  with  deep 
snow,  so  there  wasn't  much  for  wolves 
to  eat.  These  two  wolves  were  pretty 
hungry,  and  they  thought  that  they 
would  wait  ou  the  door-step  till  Uncle 
Henry  came  out,  and  just  eat  him  for 
dinner,  and  perhaps  stir  around  and 
get  the  stage -driver  for  supper,  aud 
depend  on  luck  for  breakfast  the 
next  morning. 

"  Uucle  Henry  happened  to  look  out 
of  the  window  and  saw  the  two 
wolves  sitting  on  the  door-step  ;  so  he 
just  staid  in  and  said  uotbiug.  He 
staid  in  and  kept  on  saying  nothing 
for  two  whole  days,  and  still  those 

wolves  sat  there  and  waited  for  dinner  to  serve  itself. 
They  were  friendly  for  a  longtime,  aud  sat  facing  each  other, 
discussing  the  weather  aud  other  things,  I  suppose  ;  but 
after  a  while,  when  they  began  to  get  pretty  hungry,  they 
had  a  little  tiff,  and  turned  their  backs  ou  each  other. 
Then  Uncle  Henry  took  a  clothes-pin,  reached  through  the 
crack  under  the  door,  and  slipped  it  ou  their  tails  where 
they  crossed  just  as  cool  as  if  he  had  been  pinning  a  wet 
stocking  on  a  clothes-line.  It  held  their  tails  together  like 
a  vise.  'Stop  pinching  my  tail,'  said  one  wolf.  'You — ' 
"  Now,  grandma!''  broke  in  Ralph,  reprovingly. 
"I'm  telling  this  story  just  as  Uncle  Henry  told  it  to  me 
when  1  was  a  little  girl.  I  don't  suppose  he  meant  that 
the  wolf  really  said  that  out  loud,  but  thoni/lit  it,  and  lookid 
it.  'Let  go  my  tail,'  said  one  wolf;  and  he  scowled  over 
bis  shoulder  at  the  other.  'Quit  pinching  my  tail,' said  the 
other;  and  lie  looked  over  liis  shoulder  and  scowled. 
Then  they  sprang  at  each  other,  and  began  to  tight  as 
bard  as  they  knew  how.  Uucle  Henry  said  he  never 
heard  such  a  noise  iu  his  life.  But  after  a.  while  it  be- 
came all  still,  and  he  went  out ;  but  he  couldn't  find  any- 
thing except  a  little  wolf  fur  floating  about  in  the  air, aud 
the  clothes -pin;  so  lie  concluded  that  they  had  either 
fought  each  other  completely  out  of  existence,  or  got,  tired 
out  and  gone  oft'.  H.  C. 


976 


HARPERS 


ROUND  TABLE 


Copyright,  1895,  by  HAHPKB  A  BBOTHHRS.     All  Rights  Reserved, 


PUBLISHED     WEKKL.Y. 
VOL.  XVI.— NO.  831. 


NEW   YORK,   TUESDAY,  OCTOBER  1.    1895. 


K1VE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO    DOLLARS    A    YEAH. 


SEA     RANGERS. 


BY     KIRK     M  UN  ROE, 


AUTHOR  OF  "ROAD  RANGERS,"  THE  "MATE"  SERIES,   "  FUR-SEAL'S  TOOTH,"  "  SNOW-SHOES  AND  SLEDGES,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER      I. 
EARNING    THEIR    BICYCLES. 

"  T  SAY,  Hal,  do  you  realize  that  the  Ready  Rangers  will 

J.  have  been  in  existence  a  whole  year  on  the  30th  f" 
asked  Will  Rogers,  as  he  and  Hal  Bacon  walked  homeward 
from  school  one  aftemoou  of  the  May  following  the  Ran- 
gers' memorable  trip  to  New  York.  I  remember  the  exact 
date,  because  it  was  Decoration  day,  aud  the  first  time  I  was 
out  after  my  accident." 

"That's  so,"  replied  Lieutenant  Hal,  "and  I  think  we 
ought  to  do  something  in  the  way  of  a  celebration." 

"My  idea  exactly;  and  at  the  meeting  to-night  I  want 
to  talk  it  over.  So  bring  along  any  suggestions  you  can 
pick  up,  and  let's  see  what  cau  be  done." 

Never  had  the  Berks  boys,  who  were  also  Rangers,  worked 
so  hard  as  during  the  winter  just  passed.  In  spite  of  the 


allurements  of  skating,  coasting,  and  all  tin-  other  fasci- 
nating winter  sports  of  country  life,  they  had  never  lost 
sight  of  the  coveted  bicycles  that  TUMI  Burgess's  father  had 
promised  to  let  them  have  at  much  less  than  cost,  if  only 
they  could  earn  the  money  to  pay  for  them.  At  tlie  sug- 
gestion of  Reddy  Cnddeback,  their  ne\\  est  member,  of  whom 
they  were  intensely  proud,  because  he  lield  the  live-mile 
racing  record  of  the  United  Slates,  they  had  decide. ]  in 
make  a  common  fund  of  all  their  earnings,  and  place  it  in 
the  hands  of  honorary  member  Pop  Miller  I'm-  sate  keeping. 
They  did  this,  because,  while  it  was  necessary  to  the  suc- 
cess of  their  organization  that  every  member  .should  o«  i  a 
bicycle,  some  of  them  were  possessed  ot'greater  advantages 
or  abilities  for  earning  money  than  others.  AUo  ilmse 
who  already  owned  machines,  and  so  were  not  obliged  to 
earn  them,  could  still  work  with  enthusiasm  for  the  fund. 
Besides  these  reasons  the  Kangers  proposed  to  raise  some 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


of  the  money  by  giving  entertainments,  the  proceeds  from 
which  would  necessarily  go  into  a  common  fund. 

So,  while  several  of  tlie  boys  under  direction  of  "Crack- 
er" Bob  Joues,  who  had  a  great  head  for  business,  gathered 
nuts  in  the  an  I  mini  for  shipment  to  New  York,  caught  fish 
through  the  ice  during  the  winter,  and  sold  them  in  the 
village,  and  made  maple  sugar,  to  order,  iu  the  earl}'  spring. 
others  split  wood  or  did  similar  chores  for  neighbors.  Will 
Rogers  and  Hal  Bacon  organized  a  mail-and-package  de- 
livery service.  Beth  Barlow,  working  ou  behalf  of  her 
brother,  the  naval  cadet  member,  made  the  caramels  and 
pop-corn  balls  that  little  C'al  Moody  sold  to  his  school- 
mates at  recess,  while  Reddy  Cuddeback,  who  proved  to  be 
possessed  of  decided  dramatic  talent,  arranged  and  man- 
aged the  several  entertainments  given  by  the  Rangers  dur- 
ing the  winter. 

One  of  these  was  a  minstrel  show,  the  first  ever  seen  iu 
Berks.  Another  was  a  Good  Roads  talk,  given  by  a  dis- 
tinguished highway  engineer,  and  illustrated  by  stereopti- 
coii  views,  while  the  third,  which  was  the  crowning  suc- 
cess of  the  season,  was  a  play  written  by  Will  Rogers  and 
Beth  Barlow.  It  was  called  Jilue  Billows — a  title  cribbed 
from  liaftmates — or,  Fiijlitimj  for  the  Old  Flag :  a  nautical 
drama  in  two  watches,  founded  on  facts  more  thrilling 
than  fiction.  This  play  was  suggested  by  the  story  of 
Reddy  Cuddeback's  father,  as  told  by  Admiral  Marliu  to 
his  Road-Ranger  guests  the  summer  before,  and  in  order 
that  it  should  present  a  realistic  picture  of  naval  life,  its 
leading  scenes  and  all  of  its  conversation  were  iu  closest 
imitation  of  Pinafore,  which  the  Rangers  had  been  taken 
to  see  iu  New  York,  and  which  was  their  chief  source  of 
knowledge  concerning  life  ou  the  ocean'  wave.  So  they 
had  a  Little  Buttercup,  only  she  was  called  Pink  Clover, 
a  rnidshipmite  represented  by  little  Cal  Moody,  a  Jack 
Jackstraw,  a  Bill  Bullseye,  and  a  close  imitation  of  Sir  Jo- 
seph Porter,  named  Sir  Birch  Beer.  They  sang  sea-songs, 
danced  what  they  believed  to  be  hornpipes,  hitched  their 
white  duck  trousers,  shivered  their  timbers,  and  were  al- 
together so  salt  and  tarry,  that  had  not  the  dazzled  spec- 
tators known  better  they  might  have  believed  the  Rangers 
to  be  regular  oakuui-pickers  who  had  never  trod  dry  land 
in  their  lives.  So  well  was  this  performance  received  in 
Berks  that  the  boys  were  iuduced  to  repeat  it  iu  Chester, 
w  hereby  they  added  a  very  tidy  sum  to  their  fund. 

This  was  their  final  eti'ort  at  money-making,  for  about 
this  time  a  letter  was  received,  from  Mr.  Burgess  stating 
that  he  found  it  necessary  to  dispose  of  his  stock  of  bicy- 
cles at  once,  and  asking  if  the  Rangers  were  not  ready  to 
relieve  him  of  them.  So  the  meeting  called  by  Captain 
Will  Rogers,  to  be  held  in  Range  Hall,  as  the  boys  term- 
ed Pop  Miller's  house,  was  for  the  purpose  of  learning 
the  amount  of  the  fund  and  deciding  upon  its  disposal. 
The  speculations  as  to  its  si/.e,  and  what  it  would  purchase, 
Avere  as  numerous  as  there  were  members,  and  as  diverse 

as   were   the   characters   of  the  boys.     Little.   Cal  JI ly 

hoped  it  might  reach  the  magnificent,  sum  of  one  hundred 
dollars ;  while  "  Cracker"  Bob  Jones  thought  one  thousand 
dollars  would  more  nearly  represent  the  amount  obtained. 
"That's  what  we've  got  to  have,"  he  argued,  "for  there 
are  ten  members  without  wheels,  not  counting  what  I  owe 
Reddy  Cuddcback  on  mine,  and  1  dou't  believe  eveu  Mr. 
Burgess  can  afford  to  sell  such  beauties  as  those  we  rode 
last  fall  for  less  than  a  hundred  apiece.  So  there  you  are  ; 
and  if  we  haven't  got  a  thousand  dollars,  some  of  us  will 
have  to  go  without  wheels,  or  else  only  own  'em  ou  shares." 
This  statement  from  so  eminent  an  authority  caused 
considerable  uueasiuess  among  the  other  boys,  and  they 
almost  held  their  breath  with  anxiety  as  Mr.  Pop  Miller 
wiped  his  spectacles,  and,  producing  a  small  blue  bank- 
book, prepared  to  make  the  important  announcement. 

"Mr.  President  and  fellow-members  of  the  most  honora- 
ble body  of  Ready  Rangers,"  began  the  little  old  gentle- 
man, beaming  upon  the  expectant  faces  about  him.  "It 
is  with  gratified  pride  and  sincere  pleasure  that  I  contem- 
plate the  wonderful  success  now  crowning  your  tireless 
efforts  of  the  past  winter.  I  must  confess  that  both  your 
perseverance  and  the  result  accomplished  have  exceeded 
luy  expectations,  and  1  congratulate  you  accordingly.  As 


treasurer  of  the  Rangers'  bicycle  fund,  I  have  the  honor 
to  announce  that,  with  all  expenses  for  entertainments,  etc., 
deducted,  there  is  now  on  deposit  in  the  First  National 
Bank  of  Berks,  and  subject  to  your  order,  the  very  credita- 
ble sum  of  three  hundred  and  eighty-five  dollars  and  twelve 
cents.  All  of  which  is  respectfully  submitted  by 

"  P.  MILLEH,  Treasurer." 

••  Hooray  !"  shouted  little  Cal  Moody,  forgetting  his  sur- 
roundings in  the  excitement  of  what  he  regarded  as  the 
vastness  of  this  sum.  As  no  one  else  echoed  his  shout,  he 
blushed,  looked  very  sheepish,  and  wished  he  had  kept  his 
month  shut. 

The  Rangers  had  done  well, remarkably  well,  as  any  one 
must  acknowledge  who  has  tried  to  raise  money  under 
similar  conditions;  but  in  view  of  "Cracker"  Bob's  re- 
cent statement,  most  of  them  felt  that  their  grea.t  under- 
taking had  resulted  in  what  was  almost  equivalent  to  fail- 
ure, and  were  correspondingly  cast  down. 

"It  is  too  bad!"  exclaimed  Sam  Ray,  breaking  a  gloomy 
silence.  "Of  course  we've  got  to  pay  the  thirty-five  dol- 
lars that  Bob  still  owes  Reddy,  for  that,  is  promised,  and, 
besides,  I'm  certain  that 'Cracker'  has  earned  more  than 
that  amount  himself.  After  that  is  done, though,  we  shall 
have  only  three  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  left,  which  isn't 
more  than  enough  to  purchase  three  and  a  half  or  four 
machines  at  Hie  most,  and  that  will  leave  six  of  us  with 
nothing  to  show  for  our  winter's  work." 

"  I  move,"  said  Mif  Bowers,  who  having  been  a  performer 
in  Blue  Billows,  was  fully  persuaded  that  he  was  cut  out 
for  a  sailor,  "that  we  don't  buy  wheels  at  all,  but  put  our 
money  into  a  yacht,  and  go  on  a  cruise  down  the  Sound 
this  summer." 

"Second  the  motion!"  cried  Alec  Crnger,  who,  having 
acted  the  part  of  Bill  Bnllseye,  was  equally  auxious  to  put 
his  recently  acquired  nautical  knowledge  to  practical  use. 

"The  motion  is  not  in  order,"  announced  Will  Rogers, 
firmly.  "This  money  was  raised  for  an  especial  purpose; 
and,  whether  it  is  much  or  little,  it  must  be  devoted  to 
that  purpose." 

"  That's  so,"  agreed  Sam  Ray,  who  wanted  a  bicycle  more 
than  anything  else  in  the  world,  "and  I  move  that  the 
money  be  sent  to  Mr.  Burgess,  with  the  request  that  he 
return  just  as  many  wheels  as  it  will  buy.  We  can  take 
turns  at  riding  them,  and  work  all  through  long  vacation 
for  money  to  get  the  rest." 

"Second  the  motion!"  cried  Si  Carew. 

"All  in  favor  of  Sam  Ray's  motion  say  'aye.'" 

••A\e!"  responded  half  a  dozen  voices,  though  not  very 
enthusiastically,  for  most  of  the  boys  were  greatly  disap- 
pointed, and  did  not  relish  the  prospect  of  several  months 
more  of  hard  work  for  an  object  they  had  believed  already 
attained.  Still  no  one  voted  against  the  motion,  and  so  it 
was  pronounced  carried. 

"If  we  had  got  the  machines  I  was  going  to  suggest  a 
grand  parade  in  celebration  of  our  birthday,"  said  Hal 
Bacon,  after  the  meeting  had  broken  up;  "  but  now  I  sup- 
pose it's  no  use." 

So  the  three  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  was  forwarded  to 
Mr.  Burgess,  together  with  a  note  from  the  Captain  of  the 
Rangers,  stating  all  the  circumstances,  and  hoping  that  the 
owuer  of  the  coveted  wheels  would  sell  just  as  many  for  the 
sum  enclosed  as  he  could  possibly  afford. 

'An  answer  to  this  momentous  communication  was 
awaited  with  such  deep  anxiety,  that  during  the  next  few 
days  the  Rangers  fairly  haunted  the  railway  station  as 
though  expecting  to  see  their  longed-for  bicycles  come  roll- 
ing, of  their  own  accord,  up  the  track. 

CHAPTER     II. 
A    NOTABLE    A1SMVAL    IN   HEHKS. 

"  Hi-no  !  Hi-ho !"  The  well-known  call  of  the  Rangers 
summoning  them  to  immediate  assembly  at  the  engine- 
house  rang  out  clear  and  shrill  up  and  down  the  quiet  vil- 
lage street.  It  was  early  morning,  the  sun  was  just  rising, 
and  though  there  was  already  much  activity  in  kitchen 
and  barn-yard,  the  long  elm-shaded  and  grass-bordered 
thoroughfare  was  almost  as  deserted  as  at  midnight.  Still 


97S 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


thru-  \v:is  one  team  iu  sight,  and  one  boy.  The  former  was 
that  belonging  to  Squire  Bacou ;  and,  driven  by  Evert 
Banns,  it  was  coining  from  the  direction  of  the  railway  sta- 
tion, where  it  had  been  to  deliver,  fur  the.  early  morning 
Ira. n,  the  very  last  russet  apples  that  would  be  shipped 
from  BerUs  that  year.  The  hoy  was  little  Cal  Moody,  «  ,. 
was  eanihig  tweuty-five  cents  a  week  towards  his  bicycle 
by  driving  a  neighbor's  co\v  to  and  from  pasture  every 
morning  and  evening.  He  had  just  completed  his  task  for 
that  morning,  and  was  on  his  way  home  when  he  noticed 
the  approaching  team. 

It  does  not  take  much  to  arouse  curiosity  iu  a  quiet  little 
place  like  Berks,  and  the  boy's  attention  was  instantly  at- 
tracted to  the  fact  that  Squire  Bacou's  wagon  bore  a  very 
queer-looking  load.  As  it  passed  through  occasional  level 
shafts  of  sunlight  that  were  darting  between  the  trees  it 
seemed  to  be  full  of  Hashes  and  bright  gleamings.  What 
could  it  be?  Cal  stopped  to  rind  out. 

The  nearer  it  approached  the  more  he  was  puzzled,  ajid  it 
was  not  until  the  learn  was  actually  passing  him,  when  the 
good-natured  driver  sang  out :  "  Here  they  are,  Cal!  Came 
at  last  on  the  night  freight,  and  I  thought  I  might  as  well 
bring  'em  along  up,"  that  the  mystery  was  solved. 

With  a  g-reat  tingling  wave  of  joyful  excitemeut  sweep- 
ing over  him.  Cal  Une\v  that  Squire  Bacon's  wagon  held  a 
load  of  bicycles  in  crates,  and  that  they  were  being  taken 
to  the  engine-house  on  the  village  green.  He  tried  to  give 
a  shout  of  delight,  but  at  first  could  only  gasp  without  ut- 
teriug  a  souud.  Theu,  as  he  recovered  his  voice,  the  Ran- 
ger rallying  cry  of  "Hi-ho!  Hi-ho!"  rang  shrilly  out  on 
the  morning  air  with  a  distinctness  that  instantly  roused 
the  sleepy  village  into  full  activity.  The  meaning  of  the 
cry  was  well  understood  by  this  time,  and  believing  that  it 
now  indicated  the  breaking  out  of  a  fire,  every  one  within 
hearing  instantly  repeated  it,  at  the  same  time  running 
toward  the  place  whence  it  first  issued.  So  within  two 
minutes  the  exciting  cry  was  sounding  from  end  to  end  of 
the  village,  and  even  far  beyond  its  limits.  Sam  Ray  heard 
it  in  the  new-  house  up  on  the  hill,  aud  Reddy  Cuddeback 
heard  it  in  the  mill  settlement  down  by  the  river.  Will 
Rogers  heard  it  while  he  was  dressing,  aud  rushed  out  with- 
out stopping  to  complete  his  toilet.  Thus  the  echoes  of 
Cal's  first  summons  had  hardly  died  away  before  every 
Ranger  iu  the  village  was  tearing  up  or  down  the  long 
street  toward  the  engine-house,  aud  yelling  at  the  top  of 
his  voice. 

The  first  to  arrive  got  there  even  ahead  of  Evert  Bangs, 
and  were  already  running  out  the  natty  little  red-and-gold 
engine  as  he  drove  up. 

"Hold  on!"  he  shouted.  "I  ruther  guess  your  engine 
won't  be  wanted  just  yet.  Seems  to  rue  you  boys  get  het 
up  terrible  easy.  No,  your  'Hi-ho!'  don't  mean  fire  this 
time,  nor  nothing  like  it.  What  it  means  is  bicycles,  and 
here  they  be.  I  was  calculating  to  have  'em  all  unloaded 
before  any  of  you  fellers  showed  up,  as  a  sort  of  surprise, 
yon  understand;  but  seeing  as  you're  on  hand,  1  guess 
you'd  better  help." 

Better  help!  Wouldn't  they,  though  ?  and  weren't  they 
just  glad  of  the  chance?  So  many  aud  so  eager  were  the 
hands  upraised  to  grasp  the  precious  crates,  that,  even 
while  some  of  the  later  arrivals  were  still  asking, "  where 
was  the  tire?"  the  last  one  was  lifted  out,  carried  into  the 
engine-house,  aud  there  carefully  deposited. 

"  How  many  are  there  ?"  asked  ••  Cracker  "  Bob  Jones, 
anxiously,  as  Evert  Bangs  drove  off  with  his  empty  wagon, 
and  the  engine-house  doors  were  closed  to  all  except  Ran- 
gers. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Will  Rogers.  ''  Let's  count 
them." 

As  all  began  to  count  aloud  at  the  same  moment,  it  is 
not  surprising  that  several  different  results  were  announced. 
'•  Fifteen  !"  shouted  Si  Carew.  "Eight!"  called  little  Cal 
Moody. 

"Oh,  pshaw!"  laughed  Will  Rogers.  "You  fellows  are 
so  excited  that  I  don't  believe  any  one  of  you  could  say  his 
A  B  C's  straight  through.  Keep  quiet  for  a  moment  aud 
let  me  count  them.  One,  two.  three,  four,  ti —  There!  I 
believe  I've  missed  one  already.  One,  two,  three — 


"  Here's  a  letter  for  you,  Will,"  shouted  Hal  Bacou,  who 
had  been  to  the  post-oMiec,  and  came  running  breathlessly 
in  at  that  moment.  -What's  all  this  1  hear  abnnl  bi- 
cycles? Oh,  my  eye!  What  a  lot!  How  did  they  get 

^'Just  wheeled  themselves  up  from  New  York,"  laugh..! 
Will,  at  the  same  time  tearing  open  his  letter,  which  was 
postmarked  at  that  city.  After  a  hasty  glance  at  Us  eon- 
tents,  he  called  for  sileuce,  aud  read  the  following : 

William  Rogers,  &q..  Captain  JJ, ,•/,•«  }.'<„,/,,  Rangers; 

DEAK  SIR,— Your  favor  of  Huh  iust.  with  check  for  three  hun- 
dred and  fifty  dollars  enclo.-ed,  is  .it  hand,  and  contents  noted. 
As  per  request  I  forward  by  freight,  charges  prepaid,  three  hun- 
dred and  fifty  dollars' worth  of  bicycles,  or  ten  (10)  in  all. 

I  urn  greatly  pleased  at  the  energy  and  perseverance  shown  by 
the  Rangers  in  earning  this  sum  of  money,  which  I  may  as  well 
admit  is  larger  than  I  believed  they  would  raise,  and  I  congratu- 
late  them  most  heartily  upon  their  success. 

Tom  does  not  expect  to  spend  this  su icr  in   Berks,  but  is 

making  arrangements  for  a  most  delightful  outing  el.-ewhere.     Iu 
it  he  hopes  his  fellow  Rangers  will  be  able  to  join  him.      It  is  no- 
thing more  nor  less  than  a —     But  I  must  not  anticipate,  1101 
him  of  the  pleasure  of  telling  you  his  plans  himself. 

With  best  wishes  for  the  ( tinned  prosperity  and  happiness  of 

the  Ready  Rangers,  I  remain, 

Sincerely  their  friend, 

Ij.  A.  BURGESS. 

"Ten  bicycles  for  three  hundred  and  tii'ty  dollars  !''  cried 
••Cracker"  Bob  Jones.  "And  all  of  "em  first-class,  A  No.  1 
machines.  That  beats  anything  I  ever  heard  of.  If  Mr. 
Burgess  has  got  any  more  to  sell  at  the  same  price  I'd  like 
to  take  them  off  his  hands,  that's  all." 

"But  he  hasn't,"  declared  Will  Rogers.  "Don't  you  re- 
member that  ten  was  the  exact  number  he  happened  to 
have?" 

"And  it's  the  exact  number  that  happens  to  make  just 
one  apiece  for  us,"  commented  Abe  Cruger.  "  Seems  to  me 
that's  about  as  big  a  piece  of  luck  as  I  ever  ran  across." 

"If  it  is  luck,"  added  Hal  Bacon,  shrewdly. 

"Let's  opeu  'em  right  away,"  cried  Cal  Moody,  jumping 
up  and  down  in  his  excitement.  "  It  doesn't  seem  as  if  I 
could  wait  another  minute." 

"  Yes.     Let's  open  'em  I"  shouted  half  a  dozen  voices. 

"  Hold  on,"  commanded  Will  Rogers.  "  We  haven't  time 
to  open  all  the  crates  aud  put  the  machines  together 
now.  Besides,  Pop  Miller  isn't  here,  uor  lots  of  people 
who  have  helped  us  get  these  bicycles,  and  who  would 
be  awfully  interested  iu  seeing  them  opened.  So  I  propose 
that  we  leave  them  just  as  they  are  uutil  after  school,  and 
then  hold  what  you  might  call  an  opening  reception." 

Although  the  Rangers  agreed  to  this  proposition,  it  was 
with  reluctance;  and  that  their  thoughts  remained  with 
those  precious  crates  all  day  was  shown  in  more  ways  than 
one.  In  school,  for  instance,  when  little  Cal  Moody  \\as 
asked  to  spell  and  define  the  word  biennial,  he  promptly 
replied,  with  "  Bi — Tii,  cy — cy,  cle — cle — bicycle — a  machine 
having  two  wheels;"  aud  when  "Cracker"  Boh  Jones  was 
requested  to  favor  the  arithmetic  class  with  an  example  in 
percentage  he  complied,  by  stating,  "that  if  teu  bicycle.-. 
listed  at  |125  each,  could  be  bought  for  i-:'..">ii.  and  sold  at 
their  listed  price,  the  percentage  of  profit  would  be — : 
Just  here  he  was  interrupted  by  a  shout  of  laughter,  in 
which  even  the  teacher,  who  thoroughly  understood  and 
sympathized  with  the  situation,  was  forced  to  join. 

\Vheu  the  hour  for  the  opening  of  the  crates  at  length 
arrived,  half  the  village  was  there  to  see,  and  when  the 
teu  glittering  bicycles, each  of  which  bore  a  small  silver 
plate  inscribed  with  the  name  of  its  new  ow  ncr.werc  finally 
put  together  and  displayed  to  the  ail  miring  public  of  Berks, 
there  were  no  happier  nor  prouder  boys  in  the  I'nited 
States  than  the  young  Rangers  who  had  earned  them. 

From  that  time  on,  they  rode,  their  bicycles  during  e\  n  \ 
leisure  moment,  and  on  the  !>iMh   of  May  they  celebrated 
their  birthday  by  giving  an  exhibition   parade   as   In 
fire   scouts,  that   was    pronounced  the   \ei\    line-t   thing  of 
its   kind   ever  seen   in  that   section    of  country.      In    ihis 

parade  each  machine  carried  a  tire  bucket,  and  n  hile  8 

also  bore  axes,  others  were  equipped  with  the  i 


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HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


that  Will  Rogers  and  Sam  Ray  had  used  so  effectively,  a 
fire-net,  blankets,  spades,  and  other  articles  to  be  used  in 
an  emergency. 

Tbe  Chester  Wheel  Club  came  over  to  join  in  the  parade, 
and  with  them  came  the  bicycle-supply  man,  who  was  so 
impressed  with  the  fact  that  ISerUs  was  becoming  a  bicy- 
cling centre  that  he  at  once  established  a  branch  of  his 
business  there,  and  appointed  Pop  Miller  his  agent. 

Best  of  all  was  a  visit  from  Tom  Burgess,  who  came  on 
from  New  York,  not  only  to  take  part  in  the  parade,  but  to 
unfold  the  gorgeous  plan  he  had  evolved  for  the  summer 
vacation,  and  in  which  he  wished  his  fellow  Rangers  to 
join.  He  first  confided  it  privately  to  Will  Rogers,  and 
when  he  concluded,  the  latter  exclaimed  : 

"  Tom  Burgess,  it  seems  almost  too  good  to  be  true,  but 
with  the  experience  we've  already  gained  in  Blue  Billotrs 
1  believe  we  can  carry  it  through.  If  we  only  can,  it  will 
be  the  biggest  thing  tbe  Rangers  have  undertaken  yet." 

[TO    BE    CONTINUKD.] 


GREAT    MEN'S    SONS. 

BY    ELBRIDGE    S.  BROOKS. 


THE    SOX    OF   SHAKESPEARE. 

MANY  years  ago  had  yon  been,  let  us  say,  a  tinker  trav- 
elling with  your  wares  or  a  knight  riding  by,  yon 
might  have  passed,  upon  a  small  arched  bridge  that  spanned 
a  little  river  in  the  heart  of"  Merrie  England,"  a  small  boy, 
hanging  over  the  railing,  now  watching  the  rippling  water, 
or  with  eager  eyes  looking  along  the  roadway  that  ran 
between  green  meadows  toward  that  distant  London,  from 
which,  perhaps,  you  were  tramping  or  riding. 

I  think,  as  you  passed,  you  would  have  looked  twice  at 
that  small  boy  on  the  bridge,  whether  you  were  low-down 
tinker  or  high-born  knight.  For  he  was  a  bright, sweet- 
faced  little  ten-year-old  in  his  quaint  sixteenth-century 
costume,  and  the  look  of  expectancy  in  his  eyes  might,  as  it 
fell  upon  your  face,  have  shaped  itself  into  the  spoken  ques- 
tion, "  Have  you  seen  my  father  as  yon  came  along  ?" 

Whereupon,  had  you  been  the  lordly  knight  you  might 
bave  said,  "  And  who  might  your  father  be,  little  one  ?"  Or 
had  you  been  the  low-down  tramping  tinker  you  would 
probably  have  grunted  out:  "Hoi,  zurs!  An'  who  be'est 
yure  feythur.lad?" 

To  either  of  which  questions  that  small  boy  on  the  bridge 
would  have  answered  in  some  surprise — for  he  supposed 
that,  surely,  all  men  knew  his  father — "  Why,  Master  Wil- 
liam Shakespeare,  the  player  in  London." 

For  that  little  river  is  the  Avon;  that  small  bridge  of 
arches  is  Clopton's  mill-bridge,  that  small  boy  is  Haumet, 
the  only  son  of  Master  William  Shakespeare,  of  Henley 
Street,  in  Stratford-on-Avon.  And  in  the  year  1595  the 
name  of  William  Shakespeare  was  already  known  in  Lon- 
don as  one  of  the  Lord  Chamberlain's  company  of  actors, 
and  a  writer  of  masterly  poems  and  plays. 

Perhaps  if  you  were  the  tinker,  you  might  be  tired  enough 
with  your  tramping  to  throw  off  your  pack,  and,  sitting  upon 
it,  to  talk  with  the  little  lad;  or,  if  you  were  the  knight, it 
might  please  your  worship  to  breathe  your  horse  upon  the 
bridge  and  hold  a  moment's  converse  with  the  child. 

Were  you  tinker  or  knight  the  time  would  not  be  mis- 
spent, for  you  would  find  young  Hamuet  Shakespeare  most 
entertaining. 

He  would  tell  you  of  his  twin  sister  Judith — something 
of  a  "  tomboy,"  1  fear,  but  a  pretty  and  lovable  little  girl, 
nevertheless.  And  as  Hamnet  told  you  about  Judith,  you 
would  remember — no,  you  would  not,  though,  for  neither 
tinker  nor  knight  nor  any  other  Englishman  of  1595  knew 
what  we  do  to-day  of  Shakespeare's  plays;  but  if  you 
should  happen  to  have  a  dream  of  the  little  fellow  now, 
you  might  remember  that  Shakespeare's  twins  must  have 
been  often  in  the  great  writer's  mind ;  for  they  stole  into 
his  work  repeatedly  in  such  shapes  as  tha.t  charming  bro- 
ther and  sister  of  his  Twelfth  High  (—Sebastian  and  Viola — 


"An  apple  cleft  in  two  is  not  more  tnin 

Than  these  two  creatures," 

or  the  twin  brothers  Autipholus  of  Ephesus  and  Syracuse, 
and  those  very,  very  funny  twin  brothers  of  the  I'omrdi/  of 
Errors,  forever  famous  as  the  Two  Dromios. 

And  if  young  Hamnet  told  you  of  his  sister  he  would  tell 
you, doubtless, of  his  grandfather  who  was  once  the  bailiff 
or  head  man  of  Stratford  town,  and  who  lived  with  them 
in  the  little  house  in  Henley  Street;  and  especially  would 
he  tell  you  of  his  own  dear  father,  Master  William  Shake- 
speare, who  wrote  poems  and  plays,  and  had  even  acted,  at 
the  last  Christmas-time,  before  her  Majesty  the  Queen  in 
her  palace  at  Greenwich.  For  you  may  be  sure  boy  Ham- 
net  was  very  proud  of  this — thinking  more  of  it,  no  doubt, 
than  of  all  the  poems  and  plays  his  father  had  written. 

Then,  perhaps,  you  could  lead  the  boy  to  tell  you  about 
himself.  He  might  tell  you  how  he  liked  his  school — if  he 
did  like  it;  for  perhaps, like  his  father's  schoolboy,  he  did 
sometimes  go  > 

"  with  his  satchel 

And  sinning  morning  face,  creeping  like  snail 
Unwillingly  to  school." 

He  would,  however,  be  more  interested  to  tell  yon  that 
he  went  to  school  in  the  chape)  of  the  Holy  Cross,  because 
the  old  school-house  next  door,  to  which  his  father  had 
gone  as  a  boy,  was  being  repaired  that  year,  and  he  liked 
going  to  school  in  the  chapel  because  it  gave  hiui  more 
holidays. 

Ah,  he  would  tell  you,  he  did  enjoy  those  holidays.  For 
the  little  house  in  Henley  Street  was  a  bit  crowded,  and  he 
liked  to  be  out  of  doors,  being,  I  suspect,  rather  a  boy  of 
the  woods  and  the  fields  than  of  the  Horn-Book,  the  Queen's 
Grammar,  and  Cato's  Maxims.  He  and  Judith  had  jolly 
times  abroad,  for  Judith  was  a  good  comrade,  and  really 
had  it  easier  than  he  did — so  he  would  tell  you — for  .Judith 
never  went  to  school.  In  fact,  to  her  dying  day,  Judith 
Shakespeare — think  of  that,  \  on  Shakespeare  scholars  ! — a 
daughter  of  the  greatest  man  in  English  literature  could 
neither  read  nor  write! 

So  the  Shakespeare  twins  would  roam  the  fields,  and 
knew,  blindfold,  all  that  bright  country-side  about  beau- 
tiful Stratford.  Their  father  was  a  great  lover  of  nature. 
You  know  that  from  reading  his  plays,  and  his  twins  took 
after  him  in  this.  Young  Hamnet  Shakespeare  loved  to 
hang  over  Clopton  Bridge,  as  we  found  him  to-day,  watch- 
ing the  rippling  Avon  as  it  wound  through  the  Stratford 
meadows  and  past  the  little  town.  He  knew  all  the  turns 
and  twists  of  that  storied  river  with  which  his  great  fa- 
ther's name  is  now  so  closely  linked.  He  knew  where  to 
find  and  how  to  catch  the  perch  and  pike  that  swam  be- 
neath its  surface.  He  and  Judith  had  punted  on  it  above 
and  below  Cloptou  Bridge,  and  on  many  a  warm  summer 
day  he  had  stripped  for  a  swim  in  its  cooling  water. 

He  knew  Stratford  from  the  Guild  Pits  to  the  Worcester 
road,  and  from  the  Salmon  Tail  to  the  Cross-on-the-Hill. 
He  could  tell  you  how  big  a  jump  it  was  across  the  stream- 
let in  front  of  the  Bother  Market,  and  how  much  higher  the 
roof  of  the  Bell  was  than  of  the  Wool-Shop,  next  door — for 
he  had  climbed  them  both. 

He  knew  where,  in  Stratford  meadows,  the  violets  grew 
thickest  and  bluest  in  the  spring,  where  the  tall  cowslips 
fairly  "  smothered"  the  fields,  as  the  boys  and  girls  of  Strat- 
ford affirmed,  and  where,  in  the  wood  by  the  weir-brakes 
just  below  the  town  the  fairies  sometimes  came  from  the 
Long  Couipton  quarries  to  dance  and  sing  on  a  midsummer 
night. 

He  had  time  and  time  again  wandered  along  the  Avon 
from  Luddington  to  Charlecote.  He  had  been  many  a  time 
to  his  mother's  home  cottage  at  Shottery,  and  to  his  grand- 
father's orchards  at  Snitterfield  for  leather-coats  and  \\ar- 
deus.  He  knew  how  to  snare  rabbits  and  "  conies "  in 
Ilmiugtou  woods,  and  he  had  learned  how  to  tell,  by  their 
horns,  the  age  of  the  deer  in  Charlecote  Park — descendants, 
perhaps,  of  that  very  deer  because  of  which  his  father  once 
got  into  trouble  with  testy  old  Sir  Thomas  Lucy,  the  lord 
of  Charlecote  Manor. 

The  birds  were  his  pets  and  playfellows.  And  what 
quantities  there  were  all  about  Stratford  town  !  Hamnet 

980 


r 


"HAVE    YOU   SEEN    MY    FATHER    AS    YOU   CAME    ALONG?" 


knew  their  ways  and  their  traditions.  He  could  tell  you 
why  the  lark  was  hanged  for  treason;  how  the  swan  cele- 
lirated  its  own  death;  how  the  wren  came  to  be  king  of 
the  birds;  and  how  the  cuckoo  swallowed  its  stepfather. 
He  could  tell  you  where  the  nightingale  and  the  lark  sani; 
their  sweetest  "  tirra-lirra"  in  the  weir-brake  below  Strat- 
ford Church,  and  just  how  many  thievish  jackdaws  made 
their  iiests  in  Stratford  spire.  He  could  show  you  the  very 
fallow  in  which  he  had  caught  a  baby  lapwing  scudding 
away  with  its  shell  on  its  head,  and  in  just  what  field  the 
crow-boys  had  rigged  up  the  best  kind  of  a  "  manuuet"  or 
scarecrow  to  frighten  the  hungry  birds. 

So.  you  see,  little  Haimiet  Shakespeare  could  keep  you  in- 
terested with  his  talk  until  it  was  time — if  you  were  the 
tramping  tinker — to  toss  once  more  your  heavy  pack  on 
your  shoulders,  or,  if  you  were  lordly  knight,  to  cry  "get 
on  "to  your  now  rested  horse.  And  by  this  time  you  would 
have  discovered  that  here  was  a  boy  who,  with  eyes  to  see 
and  ears  to  hear  all  the  sights  and  sounds  of  that  beautiful 
country  about  Stratford  and  along  the  Avon's  banks,  had 
learned  to  find,  as  his  father,  later  on,  described  it : 

"tongues  in  trees,  books  in  the  running  brooks, 
Sermons  in  stones,  and  good  in  everything." 

A  clatter  of  hoofs  rings  upon  the  London  highway.  The 
boy  springs  to  his  feet ;  he  scarcely  waits  to  give  you  his 
hasty  good-day,  but  with  a  hop,  skip,  and  jump,  flies  across 
the  bridge  and  along  the  road.  And,  as  he  is  lifted  to  the 
saddle  by  the  well-built,  handsome  man  with  scarlet  doub- 
let, loose  riding -cloak,  white  ruft",  auburn  hair  and  beard, 
who  sits  his  horse  so  well,  you  know  that  father  and  sou 
are  riding  home  together,  and  that  there  will  be  joy  in  the 
little  house  in  Henley  Street.  For  Master  William  Shake- 
speare, the  London  player,  has  come  from  town  to  spend  a 
day  at  home  in  the  Stratford  village  he  loved  so  dearly. 

Perhaps,  two  or  three  years  later,  you  may  be  led  again 
to  tramp  or  ride  through  Stratford  town.  As  you  loiter 
awhile  at  the  Bear  Tavern,  near  the  Clopton  Bridge,  you 
recognize  the  arches  and  the  pleasant  river  that  Hows  be- 
iieath  them,  and  then  you  remember  the  little  boy  with 
whom  you  talked  on  the  bridge. 


To  your  inquiries  the  landlord  of  the  Bear  says,  with  a 
sigh  aud  a  shake  of  the  head, 

"A  gentle  lad,  sir,  and  a  sad  loss  to  his  father." 

"What— dead?"  you  ask. 

"  Yes,  two  years  ago,"  the  landlord  replies.  "  Little  Ham- 
net  was  never  very  strong,  to  be  sure,  but  he  sickened  aud 
died  almost  before,  we  knew  aught  was  wrong  with  him.  A 
sad  loss  to  his  father.  Master  Shakespeare  dearly  loved 
the  lad,  and  while  he  was  gathering  fame  and  wealth  he 
thought  most,  I  doubt  not,  of  the  boy  to  whom  lie  was  to 
pass  them  on." 

"So  Master  William  Shakespeare  has  grown  rich  as  well 
as  famous,  has  he  ?"  you  say,  for  all  England  knows  by  that 
time  of  his  wonderful  plays. 

"Indeed  yes,"  the  landlord  answers  yon.  "See,  across 

the  trees,  that  big  house  yonder?  It  is  New  Plan*.  1 ulit 

iu  the  spring  of  this  very  year  of  1597,  by  Master  Shake- 
speare, aud  put  into  fine  repair.  And  there  all  his  family 
live  now — his  old  father,  Master  John,  his  wife,  Mistress 
Ann, aud  all  the  children.  But  little  Hamnet  is  not  there, 
aud  I  doubt  not  Master  Shakespeare  would  yladly  give  all 
New  Place  and  his  theatre  in  London  too,  for  that  sou  of 
his  back  again,  alive  and  well,  aud  as  happy  of  face  as  he 
used  to  be  iu  the  old  house  in  Henley  Street." 

The  landlord  of  the  Bear  is  right.  Hamnet  Shakespeare 
ended  his  short  life  on  the  llth  of  August,  1596,  being  then 
but  eleven  years  old. 

We  know  but  little  of  his  famous  father's  life ;  we  know 
even  less  of  the  son  he  so  dearly  loved.  Nor  can  any  one 
say,  had  the  boy  but  lived,  whether  he  would  have  in- 
herited anything  of  his  father's  genius. 

The  play  of  Hamlet  may  have  been  called  in  memory  of 
the  boy  Harnuet,  so  nearly  are  the  names  alike  ;  even  more 
is  it  possible  that  the  lovely  boy,  Prince  Arthur,  whose 
tragic  story  is  a  part  of  Shakespeare's  play  of  King  John, 
may  have  been  drawn  in  memory  of  the  writer's  dead  boy. 
For  Kimj  John  was  written  in  the  year  of  young  Hamnet 
Shakespeare's  death,  and  with  the  loss  of  ihr  buy  In1  M> 
dearly  loved  weighing  upon  his  s.iul  the  givat  writer, 
whose  name  and  fame  the  years  only  make  \t-t  more  grc;it, 
may  thus  have  put  into  words  :i  tender  memory  of  the 
short-lived  little  Hamuet,  the  geutlo  son  of  Shake:  tjeare. 


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HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


THE  DEMON  OF  SNAGGLE-TOOTH  ROCK. 

BY  AGNES  CARE  SAGE. 


HERE  were  weeping  and  wailing 
within  the  Siiunders'  modest  "one- 
story-and-a-jump"  cottage.  Mo- 
nnngahela's  eyes  were  red  from 
crying;  the  twins,  Dallas  Lee  and 
Jemima  Calline,  had  for  once  lost 
their  appetite,  even  for  corn-pone 
and  molasses;  and  Washington 
Beanregard,  the  eldest  of  the 

^^^^  brood     of     youngsters,     frowned 

gloomily,  ami  ground  his  teeth  in, 

ileep  if  silent  rage  as  he  polished  tip  his  antiquated  old  rifle 
.and  thought  upon  vengeance.  Only  the  baby  crowed  and 
gnrgled  as  lustily  as  ever,  slinking  his  gourd  rattle  in  bliss- 
ful infantile  ignorance  of  the  loss  that  had  befallen  the 
family — a  loss  most  keenly  felt  by  the  children,  for  it  was 
that  of  the  bonny  ewe-lamb,  their  pet  and  plaything  by 
day,  and  almost  their  bedfellow  by  night;  while  the  man- 
ner of  its  disappearance  was  shrouded  in  profound  mys- 
tery. 

"Mebbe  'twas  Hutcher  Killem  who  tuck  him,"  suddenly 
suggested  the  lugubrious  boy  twin.  "Tuck  him  to  make 
masts  'n'  chops  of;  'n'  if  it  was,  we  may  be  eatin'  Cotton 
Ball  for  dinner  some  of  these  fine  days." 

A  dire  prediction,  which  immediately  sent  Jemima  Cal- 
line off  into  a  wild  paroxysm  of  grief,  flinging  herself  flat 
upon  the  floor,  and  drumming  a  funereal  tattoo  with  her 
best  Sunday  shoes  on  the  gay  rag  carpet  of  domestic  manu- 
facture. "I'll  never  taste  mutton  again  ;  never,  never,  the 
longest  day  I  live,"  she  howled. 

"Now,  Dallas  Lee,  see  what  you've  done!"  scolded  Mo- 
nongahela,  usually  called  Monny  for  short.  "You've  set 
her  off  agin,  and  we'll  have  her  in  'sterics  directly.  Thar 
ain't  no  need  of  any  sech  fool  talk  cither,  and  slanderin' 
your  neighbor  into  the  bargain.  Mr.  Killem  is  an  honest 
man,  who  buys  'n'  pays  for  all  the  critters  he  cuts  np.  Be- 
.siih's,  I  caught  the  lamb  myself,  and  shet  her  up  in  the  wood- 
shed before  ever  we  started  for  the  bnsh-mcetin'.  I  locked 
I  he  door  'n'  took  the  key  in  my  pocket.  The  door  was  still 
locked  when  we  came  back." 

"Ya — as;  but  ye  couldn't  lock  the  hole  in  the  roof," 
drawled  Wash, looking  up  from  his  polishing.  "The  hole 
pap  'n'  I  hev  been  calculatin'  to  mend  for  some  time  back, 
but  'ain't  got  at  yit,  more's  the  pity.  Tliar's  where  the  thief 
come  in.  For  thai-  on  the  shingles  is  where  the  locks  of 
wool  are  a-hangiu'." 

"But  I  can't  see  how  anybody  could  clamber  np  tliar, 
drop  through  a  hole,  and  git  back  agin  with  a  bigkickin' 
beast  in  his  arms  ;  for  if  he'd  killed  it  on  the  spot  ther'd 
be  blood  spattered  'round." 

"Mebbe  nobody  could,  but  mebbe  nometlrinr/  might." 
"Some  thing!      What  sort  of  a  thing"      A  fox  or  any 
ol  her  animal  .'" 

"P'r'aps  so,"  but  Wash  would  say  no  more.  He  was  fa- 
mous for  holding  bis  own  counsel,  and  did  so  now,  until  the 
yellow  moon  had  risen  from  behind  the  glorious  mountain 
peaks  surrounding  their  little  primit  ive  West  Virginia  home, 
and  he  arid  his  favorite  sister  wandered  out  together  into 
the  soft,  pine-scented  night.  Then,  however,  their  thoughts 
naturally  reverted  to  the  mysterious  disappearance,  and 
the  girl  asked  somewhat  curiously,  "So,  Washington  Bean- 
regard,  you  won't  allow  that  the  'ornery'  thief  what  stole 
our  pet  come  on  two  legs  ?" 

"No,  Mouny,  nor  on  four  legs  nuther,"  answered  her 
brother.  '•'Though  I  didn't  want  to  say  much  afore  the 
ohillen.  But  I've  been  a-stndyin'  over  this  matter,  and  I 
begin  to  fear  that  he  comes  on  wings." 

"On  wings!  Law,  then,  he  must  be  a  bird  !  But  I  never 
saw  a  hawk  or  even  an  eagle  big  and  strong  enough  to  tote 
off  a  half-grown  sheep  like  Cotton  Ball.  Strikes  me  it's 
dumb  foolishness  you're  talkin',  Wash." 

••  \\  aal.  I  duuno  about  that.  Hevn't  you  heard  the  old 
hunters,  o:j  winter  nights,  tell  of  a  curisome-wiuged  thing 


that  once  made  its  nest  over  yonder  on  Snaggle  Tooth  ?" 
ami  the  youth  pointed  to  a  high,  dark,  jagged  crag  sil- 
houetted against  the  purplish-blue  sky.  "  It  did  a  po\\cr 
of  mischief  in  this  neighborhood,  totin'  off  chickens  'n'  dogs 
'n'  sheep,  and  some  say  even  tackliu'  a  calf.  'Twas  a  cute 
old  fowl,  so  nobody  could  git  a  crack  at  it;  but  was  up  to 
so  much  devilment,  that  they  called  it  the  Demon  of 
Snuggle-Tooth  Rock." 

"  Oh,  yaus.  I've  heard  o'  that  often ;  but  it  was  years  ago, 
before  you  or  I  were  born,  an'  the  critter  hasn't  been 
raound  here  since." 

"That's  so;  but  what  has  been  kin  be;  and  the  other 
day  Tim  Harkins  tole  me  a  yarn  about  jest  sech  a  bird 
havin'  been  seen  lately  over  Stonycliff  way.  A  mon- 
strous chap,  something  like  a  golden  eagle,  only  bigger  an' 
wickeder-lookin',  with  a  more  crooked  beak,  an'  feathers  of  a 
dirty  brownish-gray.  At  the  time  I  thought  Tim  was  jest 
a-bnmbuggin',  but  after  the  little  beast  disappeared  so  un- 
accountable like,  I  begun  to  reckon  it  must  be  true,  sure 
enough." 

"Oh,  Wash,  I  can't,  bear  to  think  of  it!"  and  Monny's 
face  looked  quite  pale  in  the  moonlight.  "Poor,  dear  lit- 
tle Cotton  Ball!  Fancy  that  demon  and  his  mate  tearing 
her  limb  from  limb.  It  'most  breaks  my  heart."  And  long 
after  the  girl  hail  climbed  the  ladder  leading  to  the  low 
attic  under  the  clapboard  roof,  which  she  had  shared  with 
the  younger  children  ever  since  their  mother's  death  one 
year  before,  she  lingered  at  the  tiny  two-paned  window 
gazing  off  at  the  peaceful-seeming  hills,  but  in  imagina- 
tion following  the  lost  lambkin  to  the  eagle's  grim  eyrie 
on  wild,  inaccessible  Snaggle-Tooth  Rock. 

"It  is  dreadful,  dreadful ;  but  I  won't  tell  Jemima  Cal- 
line," was  her  last  thought  as  she  crept  into  bed  beside  her 
sister. 

For  Monongahela  was  old  beyond  her  fourteen  years, 
and  bravely  strove  to  fill  the  place  of  their  lost  parent  to 
the  motherless  little  ones,  sending  them  trim  and  tidy  to 
school  and  "  Methody  meetin',"  feeding  them  on  plenty  of 
bacon,  corn-dodgers,  and  apple-butter,  and  every  morning, 
in  spite  of  grimaces,  dosing  them  all  round  with  "whiskey 
and  burdock  "  as  an  antidote  against  dyspepsia,  the  curse 
of  that  hog -eating,  excessive  coffee -drinking  commu- 
nity. 

Within  a  few  days  Washington's  fears  were  painfully 
confirmed.  Our  young  mountain  folk  were  out  one  after- 
noon on  the  hill-side  gathering  ginseng  and  other  herbs, 
when  they  met  the  circuit-rider  who  visited  in  turn  the 
churches  of  their  vicinity,  and  whom  Mr.  Saunders  had  fre- 
quently entertained.  He  paused  for  a  chat,  and  informed 
them  of  the  consternation  created  in  a  neighboring  valley 
by  the  appearance  of  the  terrible  bird  to  prey  upon  any 
poultry  or  small  animals  left  out  over  night  ;  while  one 
man  had  been  severely  wounded  in  an  almost  hand-to-claw 
tussle  in  order  to  save  his  dog. 

The  following  morning,  then,  when  Monny,  with  the 
baby  toddling  by  her  side,  went  out  early  to  milk  the  cow, 
she  heard  a  continuous  tiring,  and  came  upon  her  brother 
armed  with  the  old  flint-lock  rifle  which  he  had  inherited 
from  his  grandfather,  popping  away  at  the  brown  and  pur- 
ple eoiies  on  the  top  of  a  tall  pine-tree,  and  deftly  .snap- 
ping off  the  one  at  which  he  aimed  uiue  times  out  of 
ten. 

"Well,  Washington  Beauregard,  I'll  allow  you  are  a 
pretty  fair  marksman,"  she  remarked,  after  a  moment  of 
admiring  watching.  "Not  many  private  hunters  kin  wing 
a  bird  as  well  as  you,  kin  they?" 

"Reckon  I  could  hold  my  own  agin  most  of  they-nns  if 
I  only  had  a  new-fangled  gun,"  returned  the  boy.  "This 
old  fowlin'-piece  ain't  wuth  much,  and  I  do  hope  I  kin  sell 
enough  'sang'*  this  year  to  buy  another.  'Tain't  much 
fun  to  git  a  fine  aim  at  a  buck  and  lose  him  'cause  \oiir 
gun  misses  fire.  As  it  is,  though,  I  believe  I  could  snip  a 
curl  off  the  baby's  head  an'  hardly  scare  the  darlin'.  Jest 
hold  him  up,  honey,  an'  let  me  hev  a  try."  But  to  this 
William  Tell  arrangement  Monny  objected  in  honor,  and 
scurried  off  with  the  infant,  followed  by  Wash's  roar  of 
laughter  aud  shout  of  "Ho,  scare  rabbit!  But  anyhow  I 
*  Ginseng. 


982 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


mean  to  keep  in  practice,  'n'  liov  ;i  cold-lead  welcome  ready 
fur  rliat  air  eagle  if  he  ever  shows  hisself  this  way  agin." 

The  bird  did  not  conic;  lint  about  noon  Tim  Harkins 
did,  ambling  aliing-  on  a  rawboned  sorrel  nag.  and  reined 
up  at  the,  gate  with  a  long-drawn-out  "  Whoa,  thar!" 

•'  Wash  Saunders!  Oh,  Wash!''  he  called, and  that  youth, 
rising  from  the,  dinner-table,  appeared  in  the  ramshackle 
porch. 

"  Hello,  Tim,  is  that  you  ?     Step  in  an'  liev  a  bite,  won't 

\  el1  .'" 

"  No,  thankee.  I'm  jest  on  my  way  to  a  gander-pull  over 
nigh  the  Springs,  'n'  on'y  stopped  to  fotch  you  a  message. 
Ye  wouldn't  keer,  naow,  to  hire  out  for  a  few  weeks,  at  a 
dollar  a  day,  would  ver?" 

"What  to  do?" 

"Oh,  jest  to  show  a  gentleman  through  the  mountings, 
an'  pint  out  the  bants  o'  the  wild  birds.  'Pears  this  Per- 
fe.ssor,  as  they  call  him,  is  stoppin'  over  to  the  Spring  Hotel, 
an'  the  landlord.  Poke  Dickson,  axed  me  ef  I  knowed  any 
o'  the  neighborhood  boys  who  would  like  the  job.  Somenu 
what  wuz  a  tirst-rate  shot, an"quainted  with  all  the  trails. 
Yaas,  Itole  him  Wash  Saunders  am  the  very  chap,  ef  you 
kin  git  him.  But,  1  added,  the  Saunders  air  pooty  ticky. 
an'  Wash,  mebhe,  won't  relish  playin'  pinter-dorg  to  any 
one.  For,  sez  I,  his  pappy  am  a  forehanded  man,  who 
keeps  his  fambly  comf'ble.  He  hez  a  good  corn 'u'  tobaccy 
field,  'n'  the  gyurls  hez  a  kyarpet  on  the  liest  room,  'n'  cur- 
tings  to  the  windys,  'n'  everything  mighty  slick.  Still,  sez 
I,  'twon't  do  no  harm  to  ax,  so  here  I  be." 

"Sho,  Tim,  you  know  I  ain't  so  ticky  as  that.  Dunno 
but  I'd  like  it  tirst  rate,  for  I'm  sti'iviu'  to  get  a  new  rifle, 
(iranddaddy's  old  '  Sally  Blazer,'  as  he  used  to  name  it,  is 
about  played  out." 

"Waal,  naow,  then,  here's  your  chance,  'n'  I'm  real  tic- 
kled. But  I  must  be  ajoggin'.  G'laug,  Juniper!  Shall  I 
tell  Poke  you  will  go  over  'n'  see  the  Perfessor?" 

"  Yes,  I  will,  this  very  eveniu'";  which  the  boy  did,  and 
returned  jubilant.  "It's  a  snap,  a  reg'lar  snap,"  lie  de- 
elaied  to  the  group  of  brothers  and  sisters  who  ran  to 
meet  him.  "  Professor  Stuart  is  real  quality,  an'  no  mis- 
take. He's  an  orni — orni — waal,  I  don't  rightly  remember 
the  name,  but  he's  plumb  crazy  about  birds,  'n'  coined  here 
a  purpose  to  see  those  what  live  in  West  Virginia.  It's  a 
curons  notion,  b.ut  he's  nice,  'u'  so  is  Mis'  Stuart,  though 
she  lies  on  a  sofy  most  of  the  time,  and  looks  drefiul  white 
'u'  pindlin'." 

"Air  there  any  chilluns?"  inquired  Jemima  Calline. 

"  Yaas,  two.  An  awful  pooty  gyurl,  with  eyes  like  brown 
stars,  an'  all  rigged  out  in  white,  same  as  an  angel,  with 
big,  puft'y  sleeves  ;  an'  the  jolliest  small  boy  you  ever  see. 
He's  a  downright  little  man,  though  he's  only  live  year  old, 
an'  he's  curls  down  to  his  waist." 

"  Waal,  then,  sence  they  were  so  friendly,  I  s'pose  you 
came  to  some  bargain  ?''  said  Monougahela. 

"Sartain;  an'  I'm  to  meet  Mr.  Stuart  to-morrer  mornin' 
at  the  cross-roads  an'  show  him  a  red-bird's  nest.  He 
wants  to  collect  eggs  an'  live  specimens." 

When,  then,  the  Professor  rode  up  to  the  appointed  ren- 
dezvous on  the  following  day,  he  found  Wash  awainng 
him,  "  Sally  Blazer  "  in  hand,  and  a  powder-horn  and  shot- 
pouch  sluug  from  his  neck  by  a  leather  strap.  His  tret. 
too,  were  encased  in  moccasins  that  his  footfall  might  not 
startle  the  shy  creatures  of  the  wildwood. 

"Ah,  my  lad,  I  see  you  understand  the  business,"  remark- 
ed the  ornithologist,  with  an  approving  nod,  "  and  I  predict 
we  shall  be  tine  friends." 

Thus,  too,  it  proved  and  for  both.  That  -was  the  begin- 
ning of  a  month  of  happy,  halcyon  days  spent  in  the  open  ; 
a  perpetual  picnic,  sealing  the  rough  but  ever-enchanting 
hills,  wandering  through  the  beautiful  solemn  pine  for- 
ests, following  Nature's  most  winsome  things  to  their  cho- 
sen haunts,  and  always  breathing  in  the  resinous  health- 
giving  mountain  air.  Sometimes,  when  the  tramp  was  not 
to  be  too  long  a  one,  small  Royal  accompanied  his  father, 
gay  and  joyous  as  a  dancing  grig,  and  looking  like  a  little 
Highland  princeling  in  his  outing  costume  of  Scotch  plaid, 
proudly  flourishing  a  tiny  wooden  gun. 

"  We  are  good  chums,  ain't  we,  Wash  ?"  he  would  say,  in 

983 


his  precocious  friendly  little  way — "good  chums,  going 
limiting  together.  But  we  mustn't  kill  things  just  for  fun. 
That  is  naughty.  Papa  says  i',,,,,!  ,,,  science  is 'the  only  ex- 
cuse. He  never  takes  but  one  egg  IVum  a  nest,  and  would 
rather  snare  birds  than  shoot  them." 

Occasionally,  too,  pretty  Jean  would  join  the  party  at  a 
given  point, driving  over  with  a.  dainty  1 -h  from  the  ho- 
tel, and  then  there  would  be  a  merry  out-door  meal  in  some 
cozy  green  nook,  near  to  one  of  the  cold  clear  mountain 
springs  which  furnished  the  purest  and  must  refreshing 
beverage. 

And  what  a  revelation  this  experience  was  to  poor  little 
Washington  Beauregard  i  Not  only  the  bits  of  knowledge 
he  picked  up  from  the  ornithologist's  learned  discourses  on 
the  gorgeous  Virginia-cardinals  and  orioles,  the  red-capped 
woodpeckers  and  flitting  humming-birds,  but  in  a  different 
style  of  girlhood  and  more  refined  mode  of  life  than  he  had 
ever  known.  Day  by  day,  too, he  became  fonder  of  and 
more  devoted  to  his  new  friends,  and  looked  forward  with 
dread  to  the  time  when  they  must  part.  All  too  speedily, 
then,  that  date  drew  on  apace,  until  the  morning  set  for 
their  last  pleasant  tramp  dawned.  The  Professor  and 
Washington  started  early,  while  at  noon  Jean  and  Eoyal 
met  them  on  the  hills  above  Stonycliff,  climbing  the  last 
rough  incline,  that  being  too  steep  for  the  horses  and  car- 
riage, which  were  left  with  the  driver  at  a  small  clearing 
part  way  down  the  mountain. 

"And  just  think,  papa,"  cried  Jean,  "  we  found  the  squat- 
ter's wife  at  the  log  house  below  in  sore  trouble.  Yester- 
day that  horrible  eagle,  of  which  we  have  heard  so  much, 
swooped  down  and  carried  off  her  milch-goat  almost  before 
her  very  eyes,  and  now  what  she  is  going  to  do  for  milk  for 
her  baby  she  does  not  know." 

"  Well,  that  is  a  misfortune  truly,"  said  the  Professor, 
"and  we  must  see  what  we  can  do  to  help  her,  but  I  wish 
I  had  been  here  to  have  a  peep  at  that  abnormal  bird.  I 
imagine  the  stories  regarding  it  are  much  exaggerated,  but 
if  not,  it  cannot  be  an  eagle,  must  belong  to  the  semi- 
vulturine  family,  though  those  are  rarer  than  white  black- 
birds in  this  part  of  the  world.  I  really  am  curious  to  get 
a  glimpse  of  the  creature."  And  as  it  chanced,  he  was  des- 
tined to  have  his  curiosity  satisfied  in  a  way  he  little  dream- 
ed of. 

The  collation  eaten  that  day  under  the  trees  was  an  un- 
usually bountiful  one,  reflecting  credit  on  mine  host  of  the 
Spring  House,  and  after  it  the  ornithologist  stretched  him- 
self out  to  enjoy  an  afternoon  cigar,  while  Jean,  followed 
by  her  small  brother,  wandered  off  to  sketch  a  charming 
view  that  had  taken  her  fancy.  Meanwhile  Wash  cleared 
away  the  remains  of  the  feast,  packing  the  dishes  in  the 
hamper,  and  carefully  saving  any  fragments  of  good  things 
for  the  little  ones  at  home. 

He  had  jnst  completed  his  task,  when  a  frightened  cry 
of  "Sister,  oh,  sister!"  and  a  blood-curdling  shriek  from  the 
girl  made  him  snatch  up  his  fowling-piece  and  fly  in  the 
direction  the  young  Stuarts  had  taken.  The  Professor 
also  sprang  to  his  feet  and  followed  suit,  while,  as  they 
emerged  from  the  shadow  of  the  wood,  both  were  almost 
paralyzed  by  the  sight  they  beheld.  For  then-  Mood  Jean, 
white  to  the  very  lips,  but  bravely  endeavoring  with  her 
climbing-statl  to  beat  off  an  enormous  bird,  in  vt  I  osi  un  :it 
cruel  talons  struggled  little  Royal,  upon  whom  had  been 
made  a  sudden  ami  fierce  attack. 

"My  goodness!  it's  the  demon  .'"  gasped  Wash,  while  me 
father,  overcome  by  a  sickening  horror,  fell  back  againsi  a 
tree.  Even  too,  as  they  approached,  the  huge,  rcpnUi\e 
creature  spread  its  big  dusky  wings  and  began  slowly  to 
rise,  bearing  off  in  its  claws  the  poor  child,  who  stretched 

out  his  tiny  hand, sobbing  piteously,  "Ob,  papa.  sa\e  !" 

There  was  one  terrible  nightmarish  second,  when  nobody 
had  power  to  move,  and  then  the  Professor.  \\  nh  a  wild 
lunge  forward,  caught  at  his  vanishing  boy.  But  the  gay 
kilt  slipped  through  his  fingers,  and  still  the  bird  of  prey 
soared  relentlessly  upward  and  onward. 

Km  at  that  moment  Granddadd\  Saunders's  old  rille 
was  raised  aud  levelled  at  the  monster. 

"  Oh,  Wash, pray  bo  careful;  yon  may  hit  the  wee  lad- 
die," cried  Jean,  sinking  dowu  and  covering  In  i 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


'MAY    OLD    'SALLY    BLAZERS'    NOT    MISS    FIRE    THIS    TIME!1 


No  one  kuew  the  danger  better  than  the  mountain-bred 
youth,  but  he  held  himself  well  in  hand  and  kept  cool.  "I 
must  only  maim,  not  kill,  the  critter  outright,"  he  thought, 
"and  may  old  '.Sally  Blazers'  not  miss  lire  this  time!" 

Then  he  took  careful  aim,  a  bullet  whistled  through  the 
air,  and  the  "demon's"  left  wing  dropped  powerless  at  hi.s 
side.  They  could  see  the  wrathful  red  gleam  in  the  crea- 
ture's eyes  as  it  paused,  wavered,  and  careened  to  one  side, 
but  the  right  pinion  still  flapped  vigorously,  and  kept  it 
up,  while  it  still  retained  its  clutch  on  the  little  fellow,  who 
uo  longer  screamed,  but  now  appeared  ominously  quiet  and 
white. 

"  Ef  he  gits  over  the  precipice  all  is  lost,"  murmured  the 
young  sportsman,  with  a  glance  toward  the  edge  of  the 
cliff  upon  which  they  stood,  and  he  wasted  no  time  in  re- 
loading" and  firing  again.  Aud  oh, joy!  again  he  winged 
his  victim,  which,  uttering  an  unearthly,  discordant  cry, 
began  to  flutter  slowly  downward.  But  now  a  fresh  dan- 
ger threatened  Royal,  for  the  bird,  maddened  by  pain,  sud- 
denly released  its  hold,  and  the  fair  little  head  must  surely 
have  been  crushed  on  the  jagged  rocks  beneath,  had  not 
Wash  been  prepared  for  this,  and,  springing  forward,  caught 
him  in  his  strong  young  arms,  although  the  precipitancy 
with  which  the  child  came  almost  flung  both  to  the  ground. 
There  was  just  an  instant,  too,  in  which  to  stagger  to  one 
side,  before,  with  a  whirl  and  a  whir,  the  mighty  fowl  was 
upon  them,  striking  the  stony  ledge  with  a  dull,  sickening 
thud.  Wounded,  but  by  no  means  dead,  was  the  Suaggle- 
Tooth  demon,  and  he  fought  desperately  with  beak  and 
claws,  and  beat  himself  against  the  granite,  until  a  third 
shot  from  old  "  Sally  Blazers"  finally  ended  his  career  for- 
ever. 

Meanwhile  poor  little  Royal  lay  stretched  on  a  bed  of 
moss,  pale  aud  unconscious,  his  garments  torn  to  tatters, 
and  blood  streaming  from  bis  chubby  legs  and  arms. 


"He  is  dead;  my  bonny  wee  laddie  is 
dead,  and  how  ever  shall  I  tell  his  mo- 
ther?" sobbed  the  Professor,  completely 
unnerved;  but  Jeauie  never  stopped 
chafing  the  dimpled  hands,  and  bathing 
the  white  forehead  with  cold  water; 
until,  after  what  seemed  an  eternity,  a 
low  sigh  issued  from  between  the  child's 
pah-  lips. 

"  No,  papa  dear,  he  is  breathing,  and 
it  is  Wash,  good  brave  Wash,  who  has 
saved  him";  and  when  the  young  girl 
turned  aud  thanked  him,  and  her  eyes 
filled  with  grateful  tears,  the  uncouth 
buck  woods  boy,  though  he  could  only 
stammer  and  blush,  felt  it  to  be  the  proud- 
est moment  in  all  his  fifteen  years  of 
lite. 

Soon  Royal  regained  consciousness,  but 
seemed  so  dazed  and  frightened,  clinging 
to  his  sister  and  imploring  her  to  "hide 
him  from  the  awful,  scratching  claws," 
both  father  and  daughter  looked  wor- 
ried. "For  it  will  kill  mamma  to  see  him 
in  this  condition,"  groaned  Jean. 

"Oh,  then, "put  in  Wash,  eagerly," jest 
tote  him  down  to  our  house.  Monnv 
would  admire  to  hev  yer,  'u'  she's  a  fust- 
rate  miss." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  Would  your  sister 
really  not  object?" 

"'Deed  no;  she  will  be  plumb  right 
glad." 

So  it   was    decided,  and  so  the   young 
Stuarts  made    the    acquaintance   of  Mo- 
nongahela,   Jemima   Calliue,  Dallas   Lee, 
and  the  baby,  and  slept  in  the  room  with 
the   "  rag    kyarpet    and    the    curtiugs," 
which  was  hastily  prepared   for  the  un- 
expected guests,  while  by  the  fitful  light 
of  six  pine  knots  the  killing  of  the  Snag- 
gle-Rock  demon  was  rehearsed  again  and 
again.      Monny  lost  her  heart  to  gentle, 
ladylike  Jean,  and   concocted  such  a  bowl  of  "yarbtea" 
for  Royal  that  he  slept  soundly  all  night,  and  awoke  his 
own  bright,  bonny,  little  self. 

"  It  has  been  a  strange  conclusion  to  a  most  satisfactory 
summer,"  said  Mr.  Stuart,  w  hen  he  appeared  at  the  cottage 
the  next  day.  "  And  but  for  you,  Washington,  would  have 
been  a  very  tragic  one." 

But  when  he  attempted  to  reward  the  boy  with  money, 
he  stiffened  in  a  moment.  "No,  thankee,  sir,"  he  said.  "I 
can't  take  it.  Why,  I  love  that  leetle  R'yal  most  as  much 
as  I  do  Dallas  Lee,  'n'  I  won't  be  paid  for  rescuin'  him. 
Besides,  I  had  a  grudge  agin  that  air  eagle,  on  my  own  ac- 
count, all  along  of  Cotton  Ball." 

"That  vulture,  you  mean;  for  I  was  not  mistaken.  It 
belongs  to  the  vulture  family,  though  sometimes  erroneous- 
ly called  the  'golden  eagle.'  Well,  I  am  not  sure  but  you 
can  get  a  nice  little  sum  for  that  specimen,  as  it  is  a  rare 
and  unusually  large  one.  Suppose  I  taUe  it  to  the  city, 
and  see  what  I  can  do  for  you  ?" 

To  this  Wash  agreed,  and  the  huge  bird  of  prey,  which 
was  found  to  measure  fourteen  feet  from  tip  to  tip  of  its 
broad  wings,  after  lying  in  state,  and  being  visited  by  half 
the  county,  was  shipped  to  New  York,  while  the  amount 
returned  by  the  Professor  for  the  great  carcass  seemed  a 
veritable  fortune  to  the  Sauuders,  whom  the  neighbors  say 
are  more  "  ticky  "  than  ever. 

Certainly  St.  George  never  won  more  local  fame  by  his 
dragon  slaving  than  did  Washington  Beauregard  by  his 
lucky  feat,  and  he  is  proud  of  the  handsome  silver-mounted 
Winchester  rifle,  the  gift  of  "  his  grateful  friend  Royal 
Stuart,"  that  hangs  side  by  side  with  the  ancient  gun 
which  shot  the  voracious  bird  of  prey  now  adorning  a  city 
museum,  labelled  "  The  Lammergeir,  or  Bearded  Vulture" 
but  which  in  the  West  Virginia  mountains  will  go  down  to 
history  as  the  Demon  of  Sn  aggie-Tooth  Rock. 


984 


OAKLEIQH. 


B  Y      K  L  LEX      DOUGLAS     D  E  L  A  N  D. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

Till;  drive  to  Bine  Hill  bad  been  delightful  and  the  view 
from  tin'  tup  exceptionally  fine,  it  being  one  of  tliose 
clear,  slill  days  when  distant  objects  arc  brought  near.  It 
seemed  almost  possible  to  ]ay  one's  finger  upon  the  spires 
of  Boston  and  the  glistening  dome  of  the  State-house  miles 
away. 

Bronson  had  exrrteil  himself  to  the  utmost.  He  wished 
to  stand  well  with  all  men,  and  particularly  with  the 
Franklin  family.  From  a  worldly  point  of  view  it  would 
ha\ij  a  most  excellent  effect  for  him  to  he  seen  driving 
with  pretty  Edith  Franklin,  of  Oakleigh.  He  was  glad 
whenever  they  passed  a  handsome  turnout  from  Milton, 
and  he  was  obliged  to  take  off  his  hat  to  its  occupants.  He 
felt  that  he  had  really  gone  up  in  the  world  during  the 
last  year  or  two.  It  was  a  lucky  tiling  for  him,  he  thought., 
that  he  had  fallen  in  with  Tom  Morgau  at  St.  Asaph's.  By 
the  time  he  left  college,  which  he  was  entering  this  year, 
lie  would  have  made  quite  a  number  of  desirable  acquaint- 
ances. 

Hi*  talk  was  clever,  hut  every  now  and  then  he  said 
something  that  made  Edith  wince.  He  spoke  of  Neal,  and 
was  sorry  he  had  gone  to  the  bad  altogether.  Had  he 
really  disappeared? 

Edith  hesitated;  she  had  not  the  ready  wit  with  which 
Cynthia  would  have  parried  the  question. 

"We  think  he  is  in  Philadelphia,"  she  said,  finally. 

Bronson  laughed. 

••  Hardly, "he  said;  "I  saw  him  in  Boston  a  day  or  two 
ago.  He  looked  rather  seedy,  I  thought,  and  I  felt  sorry 
for  him,  but  I  didn't  stop  and  speak.  Thought  it  wouldn't 


do.  don't  you  know  ;  and  I'm  glad  I  didn't,  as  you  feel  this 
way." 

"I  hardly  know  what  yon  mean," said  Edith,  somewhat 
distantly  ;  "  we  are  sorry  N'eal  went  away,  that  is  all." 

Though  she  thought  he  must  have  taken  the  money. 
Edith  felt  obliged  to  defend  Ifeal  for  the  sake  of  the  fam- 
ily honor.  She  had  suffered  extremely  from  the  talk  that 
there  had  been  in  Brenton  ;  she  did  so  dislike  to  be  talked 
about,  and  this  affair  had  given  rise  to  much  gossip. 

"You  are  very  good  to  say  that, "said  Bronson.  "How 
generous  you  are  uot  to  acknowledge  that  Gordon  stole  the 
money  to  pay  me." 

"Stole!"  repeated  Edith,  shuddering. 

"I  beg  pardon,!  shouldn't  have  stated  it  so  broadly; 
but  I'm  so  mixed  up  in  it,  don't  you  know.  It  was  really 
my  fault,  you  see,  that  he  felt  obliged  to— er — to  take  it. 
But,  of  course,  I'd  no  idea  it  would  lead  to  any  such  thing 
as  this.  I  fancied  Gordon  could  get  hold  of  as  much  money 
as  he  wanted  by  perfectly  fair  means.  Will  you  believe  me, 
Miss  Edith,  when  I  tell  you  how  awfully  sorry  I  am  that  I 
should  have  indirectly  caused  you  any  annoyance?" 

He  looked  very  handsome,  and  Edith  could  not  see  the 
expression  of  triumph  in  his  steely  eyes.  It  was  nice  of 
him.  perhaps,  to  say  this,  even  though  there  was  something 
"out  "in  his  way  of  doing  it. 

What  was  it  about  Bronson  that  always  affected  her 
thus, even  though  she  liked  him, and  was  flattered  In  In- 
attentions? She  said  to  herself  that  it  was  merely  the  ef- 
fect of  Cynthia's  outspoken  dislike.  Unreasonable  though 
it  was,  it  influenced  her. 

But  now  it  came  over  Edith  with  overwhelming  force 


'YOU    WERE    AFRAID    TO    BRAVE   IT    OVT.     AFRAID!" 
985 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


that  she  had  done  very  wrong  to  come  with  Tony  Bronsou 
this  afternoon.  She  was  disobeying  her  step-mother,  be- 
sides acting  most  deceitfully.  Yes;  she  had  deliberately 
deceived  Mrs.  Franklin  when  she  wrote  the  note  the  day 
before;  for  had  she  not  had  it  in  her  mind  then  to  allow 
herself  to  be  over-persuaded  in  regard  to  the  drive  ?  These 
thoughts  made  Edith  very  silent 

And  theu  they  had  driven  through  Brenton.  Unfortu- 
nately an  electric  car  reached  the  corner  just  as  they  did. 
The  gay  little  mare  from  the  livery-stable,  which  had  been 
rather  resentful  of  control  all  the  afternoon,  bolted  and 
ran.  A  heavy  ice-cart  barred  the  way.  There  was  a  crash, 
and  Bronson  and  Edith  were  both  thrown  out. 

It  was  all  over  in  a  moment;  but  Edith  had  time  to 
real::  •  what  was  about  to  happen,  and  again  there  flashed 
through  her  mind  the  conviction  of  how  wrongly  she  had 
behaved.  What  would  mamma  say  ? 

It  was  significant  that  she  thought  of  Mrs.  Franklin  then 
for  the  first  time  as  "  mamma.'' 

Bronson  escaped  with  a  few  bruises,  but  Edith  was  very 
much  hurt — just  how  much  the  doctor  could  not  tell.  She 
•was  unconscious  for  several  hours. 

Cynthia  never  forgot  that  night;  her  father  away  ;  her 
mother,  with  teuse, strained  face,  watching  by  the  bedside; 
and,  above  all,  the  awful  stillness  in  Edith's  room  while 
they  waited  for  her  to  open  her  eyes.  Perhaps  she  would 
never  open  them.  What  then?  Beyond  that  Cynthia's 
imagination  refused  to  go. 

She  was  sorry  that  she  had  been  so  cross  with  Edith 
about  Bronson.  Suppose  she  never  were  able  to  speak  to 
her  sister  again !  Her  last  words  would  have  been  angry 
ones.  She  would  not  remember  that  Edith  had  done 
wrong  to  go;  all  that  was  forgotten  in  the  vivid  terror 
of  the  present  momeu' . 

The  tall  clock  in  the  hall  struck  twelve.  It  was  midnight 
again,  just  as  it  had  been  on  New  Year's  Eve  when  she 
and  Neal  stood  by  the  window  and  looked  out  on  the 
snow.  The  clock  had  struck  and  Neal  had  not  promised. 

Reminded  of  Neal,  she  put  her  hand  in  her  pocket  and 
drew  out  the  crumpled  note.  It  had  quite  escaped  her 
mind  that  she  was  to  meet  him  to-morrow.  To-morrow? 
It  was  to-day!  Sue  was  to  see  Neal  to-day,  and  bring  him 
back  to  her  mother.  Poor  mamma!  And  Cynthia  looked 
lovingly  at  the  silent  watcher  by  the  bed. 

Edith  did  not  die.  The  doctor,  who  spent  the  night  at 
Oakleigh, spoke  more  hopefully  in  the  morning.  She  was 
very  seriously  hurt,  but  he  thought  that  in  time  she  would 
recover.  She  was  conscious  when  he  left. 

The  morning  dawned  fair,  but  by  nine  o'clock  the  sun 
was  obscured.  It  was  one  of  those  warm  spring  days 
when  the  clouds  hang  low  and  showers  are  imminent.  Mrs. 
Franklin  was  surprised  when  Cynthia  told  her  that  she 
was  going  on  the  river. 

"  To-day,  Cynthia?  It  looks  like  rain,  and  you  must  be 
tired,  for  you  had  little  sleep  last  night.  Besides,  your 
father  may  arrive  at  any  moment  if  he  got  my  telegram 
promptly,  and  theu,  dear  Edith  !" 

"  I  know,  mamma,"  faltered  Cynthia.  It  was  hard  to 
ex  plain  away  her  apparent  thoughtlessness.  "  But  I  sha'u't 
be  gone  long.  It  always  does  me  good  to  paddle,  and 
Jack  will  be  at  home  and  the  nurse  has  come.  Do  you 
really  need  me,  mamma  ?" 

"Oh  no,  not  if  you  want  to  go  so  much.  I  thought  per- 
haps Edith  would  like  to  have  you  near.  But  I  must  go 
back  to  her  now.  Don't  stay  away  too  long,  Cynthia.  I 
like  to  have  you  within  call." 

Cynthia  would  have  preferred  to  stay  close  by  Edith's 
side.  l>nt  there  was  no  help  for  it;  she  must  go  to  NYal. 
Afterwards,  when  she  came  back  and  brought  Neal  with 
her.  her  mother  would  understand. 

She  was  soon  in  the  canoe,  paddling  rapidly  down-stream. 
A  year  had  not  made  great  alteration  in  Cynthia's  appear- 
ance. As  she  was  fifteen  years  old  now  her  gowns  were 
a  few  inches  longer,  and  her  hair  was  braided  and  looped 
up  at  the  neck,  instead  of  hanging  in  curly  disorder  as  it 
once  did;  and  this  was  done  only  out  of  regard  for  Edith. 
Cynthia  herself  cared  no  more  about  the  way  she  looked 
than  she  ever  did.  She  did  not  want  to  grow  up,  she  said. 


She  preferred  to  remain  a  little  girl,  and  have  a  good  time 
just  as  long  as  she  possibly  could. 

It  was  quite  a  warm  morning  for  the  time  of  year,  and 
the  low-hanging  clouds  made  exercise  irksome,  but  Cynthia 
did  not  heed  the  weather.  Her  one  idea  was  to  reach  Neal 
as  quickly  as  possible  and  bring  him  home.  How  happy 
her  mother  would  be!  She  wondered  why  he  had  not  re- 
turned to  the  house  at  once,  instead  of  sending  for  her  in 
this  mysterious  fashion  ;  it  would  have  been  so  much  nicer. 
However,  she  was  glad  he  had  come,  even  this  way.  It  was 
far  better  than  not  coming  at  all. 

Her  destination  lay  several  miles  from  Oakleigh  ;  but  the 
current  and  what  breeze  there  was  were  both  in  Cynthia's 
favor,  and  it  was  not  long  before  she  had  passed  under  the 
stone  bridge  which  stood  about  half-way  between.  She 
met  no  one;  the  river  was  little  frequented  at  this  hour  of 
the  morning  so  far  from  the  town,  for  the  numerous  curves 
in  the  Charles  made  it  a  much  longer  trip  by  water  than 
by  road  from  Oakleigh  to  Brentou.  A  farmer's  boy  or  two 
watched  her  pass,  and  criticised  loudly,  though  amiably, 
the  long  free  sweep  of  her  paddle. 

Cynthia  did  not  notice  them.  Her  mind  was  fully  oc- 
cupied, aud  her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  distance.  As  each 
bend  in  the  river  was  rounded  she  hoped  that  she  might 
see  Neal's  familiar  figure  waiting  for  her. 

Aud  at  last  she  did  see  him.  He  was  sitting  on  the 
bank,  leaning  against  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  and  when  she 
came  in  sight  he  ran  down  to  the  little  beach  that  made  a 
good  landing-place  just  at  this  point. 

"  Cynthia,  you're  a  brick !"  he  exclaimed.  "  I  was  afraid 
you  were  not  coming." 

" Oh,  Neal, I'm  so  glad  to  see  you!     Get  in  quickly,  and 
we'll  go  back  as  fast  as  we  can.      Of  course  I  came,  but  we 
mustn't  lose  a  minute  on  account  of  Edith.     Hurry  !" 
"What  do  you  mean  ?     I'm  not  going  back  with  you." 
"Not  going  back?     Why,  Neal,  of  course  you  are." 
"Not  by  a  long  shot.     Did  you  think  I  would  ever  go 
back  there  ?" 
"  Neal !" 

Cynthia's  voice  trembled.  The  color  rose  in  her  face  aud 
her  eyes  tilled  with  tears. 

"  Neal,  you  can't  really  mean  it  ?" 
"  Of  course  I  do." 

"Then  why  did  you  send  for  me?" 

"Because  I  wanted  to  see  you.  There,  don't  look  as  if 
you  were  going  to  cry,  Cynthia.  I  hate  girls  that  cry.  and 
you  never  were  that  sort.  I'll  be  sorry  I  sent  for  you  if 
you  do." 

Cynthia  struggled  to  regain  her  composure.  This  was  a 
bitter  disappointment,  but  she  must  make  every  effort  to 
prevail  upon  Neal  to  yield. 

"I'm  not  crying,"  she  said,  blinking  her  eyes  very  hard. 
"Tell  me  what  you  mean." 

"  I  don't  mean    anything    in    particular,  except   that    I 
wanted  to  see  you  again,  perhaps  for  the  last  time."     This 
with  a  rather  tragic  air. 
"The  last  time?" 

"  Yes.  I've  made  tip  my  mind  to  cut  loose  from  every- 
body, and  just  look  out  for  myself  after  this.  If  my  only 
sister  suspects  me  of  stealing,  I  don't  care  to  have  any- 
thing more  to  do  with  her.  I  can  easily  get  along  until 
I'm  twenty -five.  I'll  just  knock  round  and  take  things 
easy,  aud  if  I  go  to  the  bad  no  one  will  care  particularly." 

"  Neal,  I  had  no  idea  you  were  such  a  coward !"  exclaimed 
Cynthia,  indignantly. 

"Coward!  You  had  better  look  out,  Cynthia.  I  won't 
stand  much  of  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  You've  got  to  stand  it.  I  call  you  a  coward.  You  ran 
away  like  a  boy  in  a  dime  novel,  just  because  you  couldn't 
stand  having  anything  go  wrong.  You  were  afraid  to 
brave  it  out.  J/Voirf.'" 

There  was  no  suspicion  of  tears  now  in  Cynthia's  voice. 
She  knelt  in  the  canoe  very  erect  and  very  angry.  Her 
cheeks  were  crimson,  and  her  blue  eyes  had  grown  very 
dark. 

"I  tell  you  again  to  take  care,"  said  Neal,  restraining 
his  anger  with  difficulty.  ''I  did  not  scud  for  you  to  come 
dowu  here  aud  rave  this  way." 


980 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"  And  I  never  would  have  come  if  I'd  thought  you  were 
going  to  behave  this  way.  I'm  dreadfully,  dreadfully  dis- 
appointed in  you,  Neal.  I  always  thought  you  were  a  very 
uice  hoy,  and  I  was  awfully  fond  of  you — almost  as  foud  of 
yon  as  I  am  of  Jack,  and  now — 

She  broke  off  abruptly  and  looked  away  across  the 
river. 

If  Neal  was  touched  by  this  speech  he  did  not  show  it  at 
the  moment.  He  stood  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  kick- 
ing the  toe  of  his  boot  against  a  rock. 

••of  course  I  couldn't  stay  there,"  he  said,  presently. 
"  Your  father  as  good  as  called  me  a  thief." 

"He  didn't  at  all.  He  didn't  really  believe  you  had 
taken  the  money  until  yon  ran  away.  Then,  of  course, 
e\er\  one  thought  it  strange  that  you  went,  and  I  don't 
wonder.  And  I  couldn't  tell  how  it  really  was,  because  I 
had  promised  you ;  but  I'm  not  going  to  keep  the  promise 
any  longer,  Neal.  I  am  going  to  tell." 

"  No,  you  can't.  You've  promised,  and  I  won't  release 
you.  I  am  not  going  to  demean  myself  by  explaining; 
they  ought  to  have  believed  in  me.  But  I  wish  you  would 
stop  scolding,  Cynthia,  and  come  up  here  on  the  bank.  I 
can't  talk  while  you  are  swinging  round  there  with  the 
current." 

After  a  moment's  hesitation  Cynthia  complied  with  his 
request.  It  occurred  to  her  that  perhaps  she  could  accom- 
plish more  by  persuasion  than  by  wrath.  Neal  drew  up 
the  boat  and  they  sat  down  under  the  tree. 

"  Where  have  yon  been  all  this  time  ?"  asked  Cynthia. 
"In  Boston,  first.  I've  been  staying  with  several  fel- 
lows. I  gave  out  that  I  was  going  to  Philadelphia,  for  I 
thought  yon  would  be  looking  for  me,  and  it  is  true,  for  I 
am  going,  some  time  soon.  Then  I  went  to  Roxbury,  and 
yesterday  I  walked  out  from  there  and  found  that  little 
shaver  to  take  the  note  to  you." 

"  Have  you  told  your  friends  that  you  ran  away?" 
"No.      Why   should   I?      Fortunately   I   took    enough 
dollies,  though  these  are  beginning  to  look  a  little  shabby. 
I  spenl   last  night  in  a  shed.      I've  only  got  a  little  money 
left,  but  it  will  answer  until  I  get  something  to  do." 

"Neal,  do  you  know  you  are  just  breaking  mamma's 
heart  :'" 

N'eal  said  nothing. 

••  She  has  looked  so  awfully  ever  since  you  left,  and  she 
wrote  to  yon  in  Philadelphia,  and  papa  went  on,  but  we 
had  to  send  for  him  to  come  back  on  account  of  Edith." 
"  What  about  Edith  ?" 

"Oh,  didn't  I  tell  you?  Edith  had  a  fearful  accident 
\ .  sterday.  She  was  driving  with — she  went  to  drive,  and 
\\as  thrown  out  and  was  terribly  hurt." 

"I'm  awfully  sorry,"  said  Neal,  with  real  concern  in 
his  voice.  "How  did  it  happen?  Was  it  one  of  your 
horses  ?" 

"No,"  said  Cynthia,  hurrying  over  that  part  of  it,  for 
she  did  not  want  Neal  to  know  that  Edith  had  been  with 
Brousou;  "but  she  was  very  much  hurt,  Neal.  She  was 
unconscious  nearly  all  night,  and  the  doctor  thought  per- 
haps she— she  would  die.  Oh,  Neal,  won't  you  come  back  ? 
Won't  yon  please  come  back?" 

Neal  rose  abruptly,  and  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the 
little  clearing. 

••I  wish  you  wouldn't,  Cynthia,"  he  remonstrated;  "I've 
told  you  I  couldn't,  and  you  ought  not  to  ask  me.  I'm  aw- 
fully'sorry  about  Edith,  and  I'm  sorry  Hessie  feels  so  badly 
about  me.  I'll  give  in  about  one  thing.  You  can  tell  her 
yon  have  seen  me  and  that  I  am  well.  You  needn't  say  I'm 
going  tot  he  bad,  but  very  likely  I  shall.  You  mustn't  say  a 
word  about  having  lent  me  the  money,  I  will  not  have 
that  explained.  There,  it  has  begun  to  rain." 

A  few  big  drops  came  pattering  down,  falling  with  loud 
splashes  into  the  river. 

"Oh,  I  must  hurry  back!"  exclaimed  Cynthia,  hastily 
drying  her  eyes. 

"  It's  only  going  to  be  a  shower.  Come  up  here  where 
the  trees  are  thicker,  and  wait  till  it  is  over.  See,  it's  all 
bright  over  there." 

Cynthia  looked  in  the  direction  indicated,  and  seeing  a 
streak  of  cloud  that  was  somewhat  lighter  than  the  rest, 


concluded  to  wait.      Perhaps  she  could  yet  prevail  upon 
Neal  to  come. 

They  went  into  the  woods  a  short  distance,  and  though 
there  were  not  many  leaves  upon  the  trees  MS  yet.  th.  \ 

were  more  protected  than  in  tl pen.     It  was  raining  hard 

now. 

"Neal,"  said  Cynthia,  in  her  gentlest  tones, "  when  you 
have  thought  it  over  a  little  more  I'm  sure  you  will  agree 
with  me.  Indeed,  you  ought  to  conic." 

"I  have  done  nothing  else  but  think  it  over,  and  I  tell 
you  I  am  not  coming,  Cynthia.  I  wish  you  wouldn't  -;iy 
any  more.  I  sent  for  you  because  I  wanted  to  see  you  once 
more,  and  now  you're  spoiling  it  all.  I  don't  believe  you 
care  a  bit  about  me." 

"Oh,  Neal,  how  can  you  say  so?  You  know  I  do  care, 
very  much.  I'm  awfully  disappointed  in  yon,  that's  all.  I 
always  thought  you  were  brave  and  good,  and  would  do 
things  you  ought  to  do,  even  when  you  didn't  want  to.  •  It 
does  seem  selfish  to  stay  away  and  make  mamma  feel  so 
badly,  when  it  would  only  be  necessary  to  come  home  and 
say  you  had  borrowed  the  money  of  me,  to  make  every- 
thing all  right.  It  seems  very  selfish  indeed,  but  perhaps 
I  am  mistaken.  I  dare  say  I'm  very  selfish  myself,  and  have 
no  right  to  preach  to  you,  but  if  you  could  see  mamma  I'm 
sure  you  would  feel  as  I  do." 

Neal  remaiued  silent. 

"But  I  still  have  faith  in  you,"  continued  Cynthia.  "I 
think  some  day  you  will  see  it  as  I  do.  I  am  sure  you  will. 
Oh,  dear,  how  wet  it  is  getting." 

The  rain  was  coming  down  in  torrents.  The  ground  was 
wet  and  soggy,  and  their  feet  sank  in  the  drenched  leaves. 
The  canoe,  drawn  up  on  the  bank,  was  full  of  water. 

"  I  ought  to  have  gone  home.  It  is  going  to  rain  all  day, 
and  mamma  will  be  so  worried." 

The  clouds  had  settled  down  heavily,  and  there  was  no 
prospect  whatever  of  the  rain  stopping. 

"I  must  go  right  away;  I  am  wet  through  now.  Oh, 
Neal,  if  you  would  only  go  with  me !  Won't  you  go,  Neal  f ' 

But  Neal  shook  his  head. 

"Very  well;  then  it  is  good-by.  But  remember  what  I 
said,  Neal.  It's  your  own  fault  that  the  family  think  you 
took  it.  And  if  mamma  or  any  one  ever  asks  me  any  ques- 
tions about  what  I  am  going  to  do  with  Aunt  Betsey's  pres- 
ent, I'm  not  going  to  pretend  anything.  If  they  choose  to 
find  out  I  lent  it  to  yon.  they  can.  You  won't  say  I  can  tell 
them  ;  so,  of  course,  I  can't  do  it,  as  I  promised,  but  I  sha'u't 
prevent  them  finding  it  out.  Oh,  Neal,  do,  do  come !" 

"I'm  a  brute,  Cynth,  I  know,  but  I  can't  give  in.  You 
don't  know  how  hard  it  is  for  me  ever  to  give  in.  I'll  re- 
member what  you  said.  Please  shake,  hands  for  good-by  to 
me,  if  you  don't  think  I'm  too  mean  and  seltish  and  heart- 
less and  a  coward,  and  everything  else  you've  said." 

"Oh,  Neal!"  cried  Cynthia,  as  she  grasped  his  hand  with 
both  of  hers,  "some  day  I'm  .sure  you  will  come.  Good-by, 
Neal." 

They  turned  over  the  canoe,which  was  full  of  rain-water, 
and  then  Cynthia  embarked.  Suddenly  an  idea  occurred 
to  her — she  would  make  one  more  effort. 

"Neal, you  will  have  to  go  part  way  with  me.  I'm  really 
afraid  to  go  alone.  It  is  raining  so  hard  the  boat  will  till 
up,  and  it  will  take  me  so  long  to  go  alone." 

Neal  could  not  resist  this  very  feminine  appeal.  H<- 
hesitated,  and  then  got  in  and  took  the  extra  paddle. 

"I'll  go  part  way,  Cynthia,  but  1  won't  go  home.  Of 
course  I  can't  let  you  go  off  alone  if  you're  afraid.  I  never 
knew  you  to  be  so  before." 

With  long,  vigorous  strokes  they  were  soon  pulling  up- 
stream. Occasionally  one  of  them  would  stop  and  bail  with 
the  big  sponge  kept  in  thclm.ii  for  emergencies. 

The  rain  splashed  into  the  river,  anil  the  dull  gray  si  ream 
seemed  to  run  more  swiftly  than  usual.  It  looked  ver\  dil- 
ferent  from  its  wont.  Cynthia  and  Neal.  ma n\  limes  :is  they 
had  been  together  on  the  Charles,  had  never  before  been 
there  iu  ;i  storm. 

"Everything  is  changed,"  tliongln  Cynthia;  "even  my 
own  river  is  different.  Will  things  ever  be  the  same  again.' 
Oh,  if  Neal  will  only  give  iu  when  we  get  near  home!" 

[TO  BE   CONTINUED.] 


987 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


A  LANDING  PARTY. 


A    WAR  FLEET    IN   TRAINING. 

BY  W.  J.  HENDERSON. 

T'HE  fleet  cruiser  Minneapolis  lies  straining  at  her  arch- 
ed cable  oft'  Tompkinsville,  Stateu  Island.  The  last 
of  the  flood  tide  is  singing  nrouud  the  outward  curve  of 
her  powerful  ram,  and  a  gentle  southerly  breeze  is  floating 
to  leeward  from  her  massive  yellow  smoke-stacks,  two 
columns  of  oily-brown  smoke,  for  the  signal  "spread  tires" 
flew  from  the  flag-ship  hours  ago,  and  the  fleet  is  in  read- 
iness to  get  under  way.  Down  in  the  fire-room  the  coal- 
passers  feed  the  giant  furnaces  that  roar  for  more.  Water- 
tenders  and  machinists  glide  hither  and  thither  watching 
the  boilers  and  the  machinery.  On  the  platforms  beside 
the  twin  engines  stand  engineer  officers  waiting  for  the 
signal  to  start  the  propellers.  Brass-work  and  steel-work 
glitter  with  the  splendor  of  a  new  polish,  and  under  all 
rumbles  the  dull  monotone  of  the  dynamo. 

On  the  bridge  stand  the  Captain,  the  Executive  Officer, 
the  navigator,  the  officer  of  the  watch,  the  cadet  whose 
duty  it  is  to  watch  for  signals,  and  a  signal  boy.  A  sea- 
man stands  by  the  wheel,  and  a  quartermaster  stands  he- 
side  him.  On  the  after-bridge  stand  the  junior. officer  of 
the  watch,  a  quartermaster,  and  two  signal  hoys.  About 
the  decks  are  hundreds  of  seamen  ready  to  jump  to  their 
allotted  stations.  All  are  silent,  eager,  alert. 

"Signal,  sir,"  says  the  cadet,  referring  to  his  fleet  signal- 
hook  ;  "137-  -get  under  way." 

A  word  from  the  Executive  Officer,  and  the  steam-winch 
rolls  in  the  cable.  A  touch  upon  an  electric  button,  a 
rattle  of  jangling  bells,  below,  and  the  mighty  engines  turn 

slowly  over,  taking 
the  strain  off  the  cable, 
and  sending  the  ship 
tip  to  her  anchor.  An- 
other string  of  flags 
runs  to  the  signal-yard 
of  the  flag-ship. 

"Form  column  of 
vessels,"  reads  the  ca- 
det from  the  signal- 
book,  "natural  order." 
A  minute  later  the 
North  Atlantic  Squad- 
ron, Admiral  Bunco 
commanding,  is  .ste.-mi- 
ing  in  single  Hie  out 
toward  the  Narrows, 
the  flag-ship  JVeu1  York 
leading,  followed  by 
the  Miiim-ii/xiUs,  i'i>- 
liiniliii/,  L'iilcii/li.  Mont- 
gomery. i.'nnliinii.  Eric- 
sson, and  titiliito  A 


SIGNALLING    FUOM    THE    FLAG-SHIP 


triangular  shape  swings  point  up   half- 
way between  the  deck  and  the  signal-yard 
of  the  Xeu-  York.     It  means  half-cruising 
speed — five  knots  an  hour — and  tin- ..ih,  i 
ships  repeat  the  signal.     Silently,  niaje.s- 
tically,  keeping  their  distances  like  sol- 
diers on  parade,  the  powerful  steel  crui- 
sers and  the   agile    torpedo- boats    move 
down  the  Conover   Channel,  around   the 
Southwest  Spit,  pa>t  the  Hook  hell-buoy, 
ont  the  Geduey  Channel,  and  past  the  old 
red  light-ship  to  the  open  sea.     Another 
string  of  signals  rises  on  the  flag-ship,  and 
the    answering    pennants    flutter  on    the 
other  ships  while  the  signal-book  says, 
"Form  double  column." 
Every  ship  knows  her  place,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  the  right  wing  is  made  of  the 
Minneapolis.    Montgomery,    1'unhini/,    and 
Stiletto,  and  the    left   of   the   others,  the 
flag-ship  at  the  head  aud  in  the  centre. 
The  speed  is  now  up  to  the  full  cruising 
limit — ten   knots    an   hour — and   as   the 
ships   go  rolling   and  bowing   over   the 
Atlantic  swells,  their  keen  prows  send  up  fountains  of  sil- 
very foam  that  spread  away  on  either  bow  iu  streamers 
of  snow   on  the  living  blue.      The  flag- ship  signals  the 
course,  aud  again  the  others  answer  with  the  pennant  of 
perpendicular   red    and    white    stripes.      The   quiet  of  an 
orderly  sea-march  settles  down  over  the  fleet,  yet  never  for 
one  instant,  night  or  day,  does  vigilance  relax,  for  at  any 
moment  signals  may  break  out  on  the   flag- ship,  though 
they  be  nothing  more  than  some  vessel's  number  to  warn 
her  that    she    is 
out  of  position 

But  other  sig- 
nals do  appear, 
for  this  is  no 
holiday  cruise, 
but  one  of  prac- 
tice and  ceaseless 
drill.  Fleet  tac- 
tics are  executed 
almost  without 
rest.  "Form  line 
of  battle,  wings 
right  and  left 
front  into  line  ;" 
'"  By  vessels  from 
the  right  front 
into  echelon," 
"  Front  into  line," 
"Squadrons  right 
turn,"  •'  Form 
line,  left  wing 
left  oblique," 

"Form      column, 

vessels  right  turn.'1  and  do/ens  of  other  orders  are  given 
by  the  flag-ship,  and  executed  with  precision  aud  accuracy 
which  would  amaze  a  land.-man,  but  which  probably  fall 
far  short  of  the  high  ideal  iu  the  Admiral's  mind.  Empty, 
paradelike  ruana-nvres  these  would  seem  to  the  ignorant, 
but  it  was  the  skill  of  his  captains  iu  the  execution  of  such 
movements,  combined  with  their  knowledge  of  his  plans, 
that  enabled  Nelson  to  hurl  his  fleet  upon  that  of  Ville- 
neiive  at  Trafalgar  with  such  fatal  accuracy  after  hoisting 
only  three  signals  to  the  yard-arm  of  the  I'ictori/. 

In  the  darkness  of  a  clomh  night  one  of  the  ships  is  de- 
tached with  secret  orders.  She  is  to  indicate  an  enetin'.s 
force,  aud  to  fall  upon  the  fleet  at  some  unexpected  hour 
the  next  day.  From  the  moment  of  her  departure  the 
lookouts  on  the  remaining  ships  doubly  strain  their  eyes, 
and  not  a  spar  rises  above  the  horizon  that,  is  not  studied 
with  all  a  seaman's  skill.  In  the  first  dog-watch  of  the 
next  afternoon,  when  the  sailors  forward  are  amusing 
themselves  with  pipe  and  song,  the  lookout  in  the  forciop 
cries, 

"  Steamer  ho!" 


FIKl.NG    FHO.M    TUi:    MILITARY    TOPS. 


988 


HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE 


In  answer  to  the  questions  of  the 
officer  of  the  watch,  he  says  the 
smoke  looks  like  that  of  a  cruiser. 
The  yew  York  has  seen  her  too,  and 
the  next  minute  signals  fly  at  her 
yard-arm.  The  Captain  noils,  and 
the  hollows  of  the  ship  are  tilled 
with  the  sharp  beating  of  a  drum, 
the  shrill  screeching  of  boatswains' 
pipes,  and  the  sound  of  heavy  voices 
bawling,  "All  hands  clear  ship  for 
action!"  That  is  a  thrilling  cry, 
even  in  time  of  peace,  and  half- 
slumbering  sailors  spring  to  their 
feet  with  staring  eyes  and  panting 
breath.  Marines  rush  to  the  arm- 
racks  to  get  their  rifles,  belts,  and 
bayonets.  Officers  buckle  on  swords 
and  revolvers,  and  spring  to  their 
stations. 

And  now  begins  a  brief  period  of 
bustling  activity,  which  to  a  lands- 
man would  seem  like  confusion  it- 
self confounded.  Boats  are  lashed 
around  with  canvas  to  keep  splinters 
from  flying,  extra  slings  are  rigged 

on  yards  and  gaffu  to  keep  them  from  falling  to  the  deck  if 
struck  by  shot,  breastworks  of  hammocks  are  made  on 
bridges,  forecastle,  and  poops,  stanchions  and  rails  are  sent 
below,  and  everything  that  can  be  removed  is  taken  from 
the  deck  so  that  the  guns  may  have  a  clear  sweep.  The 
magazines  and  fixed  ammunition-rooms  are  thrown  open, 
and  the  men  of  the  powder  division  take  the  stations  al- 
lotted to  them  for  keeping  up  a  continuous  supply  of  am- 
munition to  the 

whole         battery. 

Hatch-covers  are 
lifted,  shell-whips 
are  rigged  for 
hoisting  away  the 
heavy  charges  for 
the  big  guns,  and 
chutes  are  placed 
for  sending  empty 
carl  ridge  -  cases 
below.  The  men 
belonging  to  the 
lighting  -  tops  go 
aloft  and  hoist 
ammunition  for 
their  guns.  The 
crews  of  the  main 
batiery  open  the 
breeches  of  their 
great  weapons, 
sponge  out  the 
chambers,  insert 
the  big  steel 
shells  and  powder 
cartridges,  and  stand  waiting  for  orders. 

At  last  all  is  ready,  and  the  division  officers  report  to  the  . 
Executive  Officer,  who  in  turn  reports  to  the  Captain. 

The  flag-ship  signals  tin-  order  for  the  formation  for 
attack',  and  then  at"  full  speed  the  vessels  dash  forward. 
Signals  follow  signals,  and  tin-  ships  go  through  swift  and 
graceful  evolutions,  until  the  Admiral's  programme  has 
been  fully  carried  out.  Then  the  vessel  that  was  detached 
to  represent  the  enemy  lowers  over  her  side  a  pyramidal 
target  of  white  canvas  with  a  black  spot  painted  in  the 
centre,  she  steams  back  to  her  position  in  line.  Now  the 
vessels  in  turn  glide  slowly  along  at  a  distance  of  1000  or 
1800  yards  from  the- target,  and  t  In-  thunder  of  great  guns 
fairly  shakes  the  heavens,  \\hih-  the  massive  steel  projec- 
tiles sti  ike  the  water  around  the  target,  and  thrash  it  into 
glaring  geysers  of  milk-white  foam.  It  would  be  a  sad 
time  for  any  hostile  ship  if  she  lay  where  that  target  is. 

At  last  the  target  practice  is  over,  while  a  great  cloud  ol 
-ray  smoke  drifting  slowly  off  to  leeward,  and  the  signal 


LO.UHM;  \  ma  GUN. 


"  FORM    DOUBLE    COLUMN  !" 

"Secure"  at  the  flag-ship's  yard-arm,  are  all  that  remain 
of  the  recent  scene  of  action.  Once  again  signals  direct 
the  formation  of  the  fleet  in  double  column,  and  like  some 
giant  duck  leading  a  flock  of  monster  ducklings  across  the 
sea  the  Xeiv  1'urk  swims  away,  followed  by  her  Mcel  com- 
panions. This  time  the  fleet  steers  for  a  harbor.  Again 
the  red  and  blue  flags  blossom  at  the  -Vcic  York's  yard-arm 
like  the  magic  flowers  in  the  last  scene  of  a  fairy  play. 

"Two  thirty -seven,"  reads  the  cadet  from  the  signal- 
book  ;  "  anchor  in  column." 

With  the  precision  of  carriages  driven  to  a  church  door 
at  a  wedding  the  big  ships  and  the  little  torpedo-boats  stop 
at  their  proper  stations,  and  the  hoarse  rumble  of  cables 
through  hawse-holes  tell  that  the  anchors  have  gone  do\\  n. 
All  but  three — for  see,  there  go  the  three  torpedo-boats, 
spinning  around  on  their  heels,  and  gliding  out  of  the  har- 
bor as  silently  and  as  swiftly  as  mice.  There  is  to  be  a 
torpedo-boat  attack.  This  w  ill  be  made  under  cover  of  the 
darkness,  and  the  anchored  ships  will  strive,  by  means  of 
their  search-lights,  to  detect  the  assailants.  If  the  torpedo- 
boat  succeeds  in  approaching  a  certain  ship  within  a  given 
distance  without  being  seen,  she  is  credited  with  having 
sunk  or  disabled  that  ship,  for  that  is  what  she  would  do  in 
time  of  war. 

The   night   is   intensely  dark,  and   the   blinding  search- 
lights pierce  the  blackness  in  every   direction  with  their 
shafts  of  dazzling  white.      1'nder   the  shadow    of  the  hind, 
with  every  light  extinguished,  the  tm-pedo-bnat.s.  painted 
a  color  which  blends  with  I  hat  of  the  sea.  steal  noisele.-slv 
toward  the  fleet.      Suddenly  they  separate,  and  with  light- 
ning    speed     dash    for- 
ward.     See  !   a  brilliant 
light  falls  on  one.      She 
is  caught,  and  the  firing 
of   rifles    and    Galling- 
giins      from      the     tops 
shows  that  she  is  hotly 
received.       The     other 
two    escape    detection, 
and  make  their  presence 
known  inside  the  circle. 
Red    and    while    light;; 
flash  signals  along  the 
main  rigging  of  the  Seie 
York.     The  day's  work 
is     over,    and     erelong 
tired  blue-jackets  hear 
the     bugles     blow     the 
welcome    notes    of   the 
tattoo. 

The     next     morning 
the  flag-ship  hoists  the 


'ALL   UANItS   OLKAK   SHIP    FOB    ACTION  I 


9SO 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


signal  for  a  landing-party.  Boats  are  lowered  away,  and 
.lack  Tar  prepares  to  go  ashore  as  a  seaman-infantryman. 
With  his  brown  canvas  leggings,  his  brown  belt  and  knap- 
sack, his  formidable  rifle  and  bayonet,  the  sailor  makes  a 
serviceable  coast  soldier.  At  a  signal  from  the  flag-ship 
i  lie-  I  mats  are.  hauled  to  the  companion-ladders,  and  tin-  mm 
ponr  into  them.  Kifles  are  laid  down,  and  oars  are  taken 
ii]i,  for  Jacky  rows  himself  ashore.  Another  signal,  and  the 
boats,  shooting  out  from  the  sides  of  the  ships,  fall  into 
their  allotted  places.  Again  a  signal, and  the}1  start  for  the 
shore,  the  oars  in  the  rowlocks  beating  time  to  a  sort  of 
sea-march.  As  the  boats  strike  the  beach  the  bugle  sounds 
the  "assembly,"  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  battalion  of 
marines  and  seamen-infantry  is  formed.  The  band  from 
I  be  flag-ship  strikes  up  "  Nancy  Lee,"  and  with  that  invig- 
orating swing  that  belongs  to  Jack  Tar  alone  the  battalion 
marches  inland,  where  it  goes  through  all  the  evolutions 
of  tin-  street  riot  and  battle  drills,  and  finishes  with  a  dress 
parade  to  the  delight  of  all  the  boys  in  that  part  of  the 
land. 

And  thus  from  day  to  day  the  work  of  the  squadron 
goes  on,  the  Admiral  constantly  propounding  new  topics 
for  its  study;  for  no  one  knows  better  than  a  naval  officer 
the  necessity  of  being  ready  for  active  service  at  a  mo- 
ment's notice.  That  readiness  can  be  attained  only  by 
obeying  the  good  old  maxim:  "In  time  of  peace  prepare 
for  war." 


BUTTERFLY  BOWS. 

BY   MILDRED   HOWELLS. 

ONCE  a  little  girl  existed 
Who  was  fond  of  pomps  and  shows, 
And  upon  her  braids  insisted 
Tying  two  great  scarlet  bows. 

Though  her  father  couldn't  bear  them, 

And  her  gentle  mother  said 
Thrtt   she   wished  her  child  should  wear  them 

Tied  with  modest  bows  instead. 

Hut  their  wishes  she  made  light  of, 

And  her  gaudy  ribbons  grew 
Iligger  every  day,  in  spite  of 

All   her  friends  could  say  or  do. 

Till  this  child,  all  counsel  spurning, 
Found  with  horror  and   surprise 
That    her  bows  were  slowly  turning 
Into  monstrous  butterflies. 

First  they  gently  swayed  and  fluttered, 
Then   with  spreading  wings  they  flew. 
Ere  one  sad  farewell  was  uttered, 
Straight  into  the  welkin  blue. 

So  she  vanished;  still   her  mother 

Hopes  those  wandering  bows  will  bring 

Back  her  daughter,  when  the  other 
Butterflies  return  with  Spring. 


PUDDING!^ 


This  Department  is  conducted  i 
be  plenseil  to  answer  any  questio 
address  Editor. 


?  interest  of  l^irls  and  Ym 
I  the  subject  so  far  as  pos 


and  the  Editc.rwill 
respoudeuU  sliould 


IT  isn't  a  very  hard  task  to  set  the  table,  is  it,  girls  ? 
Yet  I  find  that  it  takes  skill,  taste,  and  pains  to  do  this 
simple  thing  so  very  nicely  that  the  family  coming  to  the 
table  three  times  a  day  will  have  the  feeling  that  they 
have  been  expected,  and  their  comfort  and  pleasure  planned 
for. 

ONE  important  thing  to  he  considered  when  setting  the 
table  is  the  table-cloth.  This  should  be  of  fair  white  linen, 
if  possible,  with  a  pretty  pattern  of  ferns  or  blocks  or  clo- 
ver leaves,  but  even  if  it  be  coarse,  and  not  beautiful  in  de- 
sign, it  must  always  be  spotlessly  clean.  Do  not  let  the 
laundress  starch  your  table-cloth.  No  starch  is  needed.  It 
must,  however,  be  ironed  with  exquisite  nicety,  folded  even- 
ly down  the  middle,  and  the  crease  made  by  folding  shown 
plainly  by  the  pressure  of  the  flat-iron.  A  table-cloth  must 
not  be  laid  upon  the  bare  table.  Next  to  the  table  you  must 
have  a  heavy  nudercloth  of  felt  or  Canton  flannel.  This 
serves  several  purposes.  It  removes  the  danger  of  injury  to 
the  table  itself  from  hot  dishes,  which  sometimes  leave  a  dis- 
figuring white  rim  or  scarred  edge  upon  a  polished  surface, 
it  deadens  sounds,  and  it  brings  out  well  the  pretty  figures 
on  the  cloth.  If  used  with  care,  an  nudercloth  of  this  kind 
will  last  a  long  time,  and  I  have  found  Canton  flannel  much 
more  satisfactory  than  felt. 

WHEN  you  begin  to  set  your  table  for  breakfast  or  din- 
ner, decide  on  the  places  for  the  different  members  of  the 
family,  and  then  do  not  chauge  these  except  when  you 
have  guests.  Mamma  will  have  before  her  the  tray  with 
the  cups  and  saucers,  the  tea  things,  and  the  coffee  urn.  I 
hope  yon  make  tea  and  coffee  on  the  table;  it  is  a  graceful 
occupation  for  the  house-mother,  and  insures  your  always 
having  clear  coffee,  and  hut,  delicious  tea,  and  is,  besides, 
very  little  trouble  once  the  habit  has  been  established.  A 
simple  French  coffee-pot  with  an  alcohol  lamp,  a  small  tea- 
kettle also  with  a  lamp,  a  tea-caddy,  and  a  rule  always  ad- 
hered to,  will  make  these  processes  simple.  Cups  aud  sau- 
cers aud  the  cream -jug,  sugar- bowl,  aud  spoon  -  holder 
should  be  beside  the  mother's  place. 

Oatmeal  aud  other  cereals,  if  served  on  the  table  at 
breakfast,  should  stand  by  the  sister  or  brother  who  dis- 
penses them.  It  is  best  to  begin  with  a  fruit  course,  and. 
therefore,  finger  -  bowls,  fruit  doilies,  and  plates,  with  the 
knives,  forks,  and  spoons  needed  for  this,  sliould  be  on  the 
table  when  the  family  seat  themselves.  If  yon  wish  to 
save  trouble,  and  have  the  meal  pass  on  in  an  orderly  man- 
ner, you  may  place  by  each  plate  all  the  knives,  forks,  and 
teaspoons  which  will  be  required  during  a  meal.  These 
will  be  used  one  by  one,  always  beginning  with  that  on 
the  outside,  farthest  from  the  plate,  and  as  the  maid  changes 
the  plates  for  each  course  she  will  remove  the  knives  and 
forks  which  belong  to  that. 


FLOWERS  should  form  a  point  of  beauty  for  the  eye,  aud 
decorate  every  home  table.  You  do  not  need  many  ;  a 
single  rose  or  cluster  of  lilies,  three  or  four  pinks  with 
a  few  sprays  of  mignonette,  a  few  stalks  of  sal  via,  a  half- 
dozen  asters,  with  geranium  leaves  or  lemon  verbena,  or 
sweet- peas  in  the  season,  nasturtiums,  golden  and  glow- 
ing as  llame,  are  very  ornamental.  A  cut  glass  bowl,  or 
a  clear  bowl  of  pressed  glass,  if  bright  and  free  from 
lint,  a.  china  vase,  or  any  pretty  bouquet- holder  will 
answer  for  the  purpose  of  holding  the  flowers,  which  must 
be  removed  and  replaced  by  others  the  moment  they  be- 
come withered  and  faded;  never  keep  dying  or  dead  flow- 
ers in  any  living-room,  and,  above  all.  never  let  them  rc- 


990 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


main  an  hour  on  your  table.  Wild  flowers  are  the  loveliest 
things  for  ornamenting  the  table,  and  you  may  have  as 
many  of  them  as  you  can  mass  effectively. 

IT  is  optional— that  is,  you  may  do  as  you  like  about 
the  placing  of  food  on  the  table.  But  I  think  the  prettier 
way,  when  it  can  be  done,  is  to  set  the  roast  on  the  table 
for  the  fathiT  to  carve,  and  serve  the  vegetables  from  a  side 
table.  Salad,  with  thin  wafer  crackers  and  cream  cheese, 
is  a  course  by  itself.  Dessert  follows  this;  coffee  comes 
last  at  dinner,  and  you  may  ask  people  if  you  choose  to  step 
from  the  table  to  the  library,  or  the  porch,  if  it  be  in  the 
summer-time,  and  sip  their  after-dinner  coffee  there. 

PUETTY  bread-and-butter  plates,  with  knives  of  their 
own,  are  a  great  convenience,  and  if  you  are  saving  up 
your  money  as  a  family  to  give  mother  a  particularly  ac- 
ceptable Christmas  gift,  why  uot  buy  her  a  set  of  these? 


/ 


This  Department  is  romhu'U'il  in  the  interest  of  Amateur  Photnerapliers.  nml  th.'  E.iitnr  will 
be  pleased  to  answer  HTIV  question  on  the  subject  so  far  us  possible.  Correspondents  sin  ulil 
address  Editor  Camera  Club  Department. 

MARINES. 

LAST  year  many  of  the  pictures  sent  in  labelled  "  Ma- 
rines" were  really  landscapes  showing,  perhaps, a  tiny 
bit  of  water.  A  marine,  strictly  speaking,  means  a  MM 
picture,  but  when  prizes  are  offered  for  marines,  views  on 
lakes  and  rivers  are  always  admitted,  so  that  one  need  uot 
necessarily  send  in  a  picture  taken  at  the  sea-shore. 

Among  the  most  attractive  of  marine  views  are  those 
showing  a  view  of  rugged  cliffs  with  the  surf  beating 
against  them,  where  wave  after  wave  "  breaks  on  the  rocks, 
which,  stern  and  gray,  shoulders  the  broken  tide  away."  To 
obtain  the  most  successful  picture  of  such  a  scene  one  should 
use  a  tripod,  and  get  as  clear  a  focus  as  possible.  Get  the 
plate  ready,  set  the  shutter,  and  then  wait  till  a  big  wave 
comes  rolling  in,  and,  breaking  against  the  rocks,  sends  the 
spray  high  in  air.  At  the  very  instant  that  it  strikes  the 
rock  snap  the  shutter,  and  if  the  exposure  has  been  all 
right,  the  picture  will  be  everything  to  be  desired  of  the 
breaking  waves.  Use  a  small  diaphragm  (3°,  being  a  good 
size),  and  make  a  quick  exposure.  If  the  day  is  rather 
dull  use  a  size  larger  diaphragm  and  a  trifle  slower  ex- 
posure. 

A  stretch  of  sandy  beach  with  the  tide  comiug  in  makes 
a  good  marine,  especially  if  there  are  plenty  of  clouds  in 
the  sky.  Such  a  picture  must  have  some  object  in  the 
foreground  in  order  to  secure  the  effe'ct  of  distance  and 
perspective.  A  piece  of  drift-wood,  an  old  wreck,  or  any 
object  of  suitable  size  that  one  finds  along  the  shore,  will 
do  to  break  the  level  of  the  sand. 

Marine  views  also  include  pictures  of  water-craft.  Yachts 
are  the  most  graceful  of  water-craft,  but  the  old  dory  is  not 
to  be  despised.  One  of  the  marines  which  took  a  prize 
last  year  was  entitled,  "  Stranded."  It  was  the  picture  of 
a  once  handsome  yacht,  which  had  been  driven  ashore  by  a 
storm,  and  was  lying  partly  on  its  side  on  the  beach.  Tin' 
cloud  effects  in  this  picture  were  very  good,  and  added 
much  to  the  beauty  of  the  picture.  The  picture  was  well 
taken,  and  the  subject  a  rather  uncommon  one  for  a  photo- 
graph. 

Another  marine  sent  in  last  year  was  a  picture  of  a  light- 
house, built  on  jagged-looking  rocks,  taken  when  the  tide 


was  just  coming  in.  Still  another,  which  was  nut  strietly 
a  marine,  was  a  view  of  a  long  line  of  vessels  draw  n  up  at 
the  dock.  The  picture  had  the  effect  of  a  street  of  ships 
iustead  of  houses. 

The  prizes  offered  for  marine  and  landscape  \ir\\x  :n.' 
less  than  those  offered  for  lignre  si  ndics.  as  marines  or  land- 
scapes are  usually  much  easier  pninns  to  make  than 
figures. 

The  entry  for"  Marines  "closes  on  Ori..l>.  r  Kith.  I'm-  after 
that  date  there  is  usually  little  opportunity  for  making 
successful  water  pictures.  Be  sure  and  gel  your  pictures  in 
at  least  a  "week  before  this  date.  Take  special  pains  with 
the  finishing  and  mount  ing,  as  technical  excellence  is  one 
of  the  points  for  which  the  pictures  arc'  to  be  marked. 

Sir.  KNIOIIT  JOHN  H.  CIIAMIIKKS  says  ilmt  his  last  batch  of  negatives 
were  so  black  thai  lie  could  get  no  prints,  and  asks  if  there  is  any  way  to 
remedy  them.  The  plates  were  developed  loo  long  and  are  too  dense. 
This  can  be  reduced  by  the  following  process:  Cyanide  of  potassium, 
%  oz. ;  water,  10  oz.  Dissolve  and  add  2  drachma  o£  bromine  water. 
Soak  the  plate  in  clear  water  tor  :i  tew  minutes  lill  the  film  is  softened, 
'and  then  immerse  in  this  solution  tor  :\  few  seconds.  Take  out  and 
wash,  and  if  the  negative  is  still  ton  ili-nsr  iniincix-  il  again.  Repeat  the 
process  till  the  film  is  reduced  sufficiently.  Label  the  bottle  il  Poison,1' 
and  keep  it  carefully  locked  up  when  not  in  use.  One  should  li;ive  :c 
plate  lifter.or  use  rubber  finger-tips  when  handling  the  plates  wiih  this 
solution.  Sir  John  also  says  that  the  L'elatine  gets  black  first  on  the  side 
next  to  the  plate  when  developing.  If  the  tray  is  Ut'pt  gently  ro-.king 
during  development  the  development  should  be  from  the  top  downward. 
When  the  image  is  seen  from  the  back  of  the  plate  it  is  supposed  that 
development  has  proceeded  as  far  as  it  will,  and  llie  plate  is  left  in  the 
developer  simply  to  acquire  the  proper  densily.  This  can  be  judged  by 
looking  through  the  plate  toward  the  light, holding  it  rather  near  the  light. 
Sir  John  says  he  would  like  to  start  a  Camera  Club  or  Chapter,  and  wants 
members  of  the  club  to  write  and  send  suggestions  and  also  to  join  the 
Chapter.  We  have  several  successful  Chapters  already,  and  would  like 
to  have  more  among  our  members. 

Sit:  KNIOUT  OCTAVE  DK  MAVJKCAO,  P.  O.  Box  S96,  Middletown,  Connecti- 
cut, would  like  correspondence  from  Sir  Knights  or  chapters  interested 
in  photography.  Will  answer  all  letters,  and  would  also  like  to  exchange 
photographic  prints. 

Siu  KNIGHT  HAKKV  H.  LIITUKR,  of  Nantucket, Massachusetts,  says  he 
would  like  to  become  a  member  of  the  Camera  Clul>.  We  are  very  glad 
to  add  the  name  of  Sir  Harry  to  our  club  list.  As  he  writes  from  Nan- 
tucket,  Massachusetts,  we  shall  expect  some  fine  marine  pictures  from 
him  for  the  runiing  contest.  Sir  Harry  a^ks  for  papers  on  retouching, 
special  toning,  formulas,  etc.  These  papers  are  ready  for  publication  and 
will  soon  appear. 


ON    BOARD    THE    ARK. 

BY   ALBERT   LEE. 
CHAPTER    IX. 

rPHE  ex-Pirate  very  good-naturedly  put  his  head  under 
JL  the  table  and  pulled  the  Gopher  out  from  the  pile  of 
debris  and  broken  crockery.  The  little  beast  did  not  ap- 
pear to  have  suffered  any  injury  beyond  tearing  a  gash  in 
his  pink  sun-bonnet,  and  as  soon  as  he  had  resumed  his 
place  at  the  table  he  looked  about  him  and  smiled  just  as 
if  nothing  had  happened. 

"  You  don't  seem  to  mind  your  fall  a  bit,"  remarked  the 
Sheep,  somewhat  surprised. 

"Ob,  I  don't  mind  it  at  all,"  answered  the  Gopher,  com- 
placently. 

"I  thought  yon  would   be  dreadfully  cut  up."  put  in  the 
ex-Pirate. 

"So  did  I,  at  first,"  continued  the Copher:  -but  only  m> 
sun-bonnet  got  cut,  and  that  was  badh  nit  in  the  b.  a 
ning  anyway,  so  that  this  extra  slash  dues  not  make-  any 
particular  difference.     And  what    do  yon    suppose'   I    saw 
under  the  table?" 

"Feet,"  said  the  ex-Pirate,  at  a  venture 

"That's  pretty  good  for  a  first  guess,"  retorted  the  Gopher; 
"  but  I  saw  something  else." 

"What  did  yon  see?"  quickly  asked  Tommy,  who  was 

beginning  to  feel  that  he  had  been  out  of  the  t. rei 

quite  long  enough. 

"I  saw  It,"  answered  the  Gopher. 

"You  don't  say  so!"  exclainmd  the'  Sheep. 

"Indeed  I  did.     Do  you  want  to  pla\  a  game?' 

"Certainly.     I'm  getting  awfully  tired  of  sitting  here. 
Let's  play  a  game." 


991 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


•MY 


"I  wish  yon  would  explain,"  broke  in  Tommy.  "You 
are  talking  about  all  sorts  of  things,  and  I  can't  understand 
a  word.  Wliat  is  tliis  all  about  ?  What  is  it  the  Gopher 
saw  under  the  table  ?" 

"Why,  lie  saw  It,"  answered  the  ex-Pirate. 

"Well,  what  is  that  ?''  asked  Tommy. 

"Don't  you  know  what  It  is?"  exclaimed  the  ex-Pirate, 
his  eyes  opening  very  wide  with  surprise. 

"No,  I  don't."  replied  the  little  boy,  bluntly,  "and  I  wish 
you  would  explain." 

"Gooducss!"  gasped  the  Gopher.  "Where  did  you 
come  from  ?  Did  not  you  ever  play  :iny  games?" 

"Certainly,"  said  the  little  boy;  "but  what  has  that  to 
do  with  it?" 

'•  You  could  not  very  well  play  any  games  without  It," 
insisted  the  Gopher. 

"  It, "declared  the  ex-Pirate  very  slowly  aud  impressively, 
"is  the  one  that  runs  after  you  when  you  are  playing  tag, 
and  the  one  that  hides  his  face  ami  shuts  his  eyes  when  yon 
play  hide-and-go-seek." 

"  Oil,  I've  played  those  games  lots  of  times,"  said 
Tommy. 

"Then  you  must  have  seen  It,"  put  in  the  Sheep. 

"Never,"  said  Tommy. 

"How  did  you  play,  then  ?"  asked  the  ex-Pirate. 

"  Oue  of  us  was  it,  of  course,"  explained  Tommy;  "aud 
when  he  caught  another,  the  other  was  it." 

"How  funny,"  said  the  Gopher.  "Why,  with  us  It  is 
always  It.  That's  the  fun  of  the  game." 

"Of  course  it  is,"  added  the  ex-Pirate.  "I  don't  see 
how  you  could  play  without  It.  We  had  an  It  on  board 
the  Slack  Arenger,  and  we  used  to  play  tag  for  exercise 
when  we  were  becalmed.  But  one  day,  iu  a  storm,  It  was 
washed  overboard,  and  we  had  to  go  without  playing 
games  all  thcTest  of  the  voyage." 

"How  stupid  of  you!"  remarked  Tommy.  "\Vliy  did 
mil  you  take  turns  being  it?" 

"  Never  thought  of  such  a  thing. "admit ted  the  ex-Pirate, 
frankly.  "You  will  explain  to  us  how  it  is  done,  some 
time,  w  mi'l  VIPII  .'" 

"  Wli\ .  nl'  eour.-e,"  replied  Tommy.  "I'm  sure  it's  very 
simple." 

"Is  it  simpler  than  dominoes?"  inquired  the  Gopher.  "I 
never  could  understand  dominoes.  You  see,  there's  no  It 
in  that,  and  that  makes  it  so  complicated." 

"Yes,  the  lack  of  an  It  complicates  games  very  much," 


said  the  ex-Pirate.  "But  let  us  play  an 
easy  game  now.  Go  down  and  butt  him 
out  from  under  the  table,"  he  added,  turn- 
ing to  the  Sheep. 

The  latter  obligingly  jumped  to  the  Hour 
and  disappeared  under  the  table.  A  few- 
moments  later  Tommy  heard  a  thump,  fol- 
lowed by  a  whizzing  sound,  and  then  a 
queer-looking  something  sped  out  from  un- 
der the  table  and  slid  along  the  floor  as 
though  it  had  been  shot  out  of  a  catapult. 
"That's  It."  said  the  Gopher,  uncon- 
cernedly. Ami  then  they  all  got  up  and 
walked  over  to  where  a  new  sort  of  a 
queer  creature,  such  as  Tommy  had  never 
seen  before,  was  getting  itself  together  af- 
ter its  encounter  with  the  Sheep's  head. 
Tommy  took  in  the  peculiar  features  of 
the  new-comer  as  carefully  and  complete- 
ly as  he  had  taken  in  the  other  unusual 
events  of  the  day. 

It  was  an  undersized  being  that  walked 
on  two  legs,  and   corresponded    somewhat 
to  the  little  boy's    idea  of   \\hat   a    dwarf 
ought  to  be,  except  that  Tommy  had  always 
thought  of  dwarfs  as  being  round  aud  fat, 
whereas    this    creature    was    exceeding! v 
thin,  almost  bony,  "by  reason  of  his  con- 
stantly playing  games,"  explained  the  ex- 
Pirate.     Its    head    went    up    almost  to   a 
point,  on   top  of  which   grew  a  little  tuft 
of  hair,  which  Tommy  at  first  took  to  be  a 
small  fur  cap;  aud  the  utter  lack  of  expression  in  his  pal- 
lid face    hetokene.il  that    It  had   no  understanding  what- 
ever beyond  his  own  sphere  of  utility. 

"  Perhaps  that's  why  he  is  willing  to  be  it  all  the  time." 
thought  Tommy.  "  I'm  sure  he  does  not  look  as  if  he  kuew 
enough  to  object." 

By  this  time  the  Sheep  had  rejoined  the  group  aud  was 
ready  to  pla\ . 

"I  don't  want  to  play  any  game  of  chance, "said  the  ex- 
Pirate  w  hen  the  Gopher  asked  what  it  should  be. 

"No;  we  won't  have  any  game  of  chance,"  agreed  the 
Sheep. 

"I  don't  see  how  you  could,"  ventured'Tommy,  "  if  It  is 
in  the  game.  It  strikes  me  that  if  It  is  always  It,  there  is 
no  c/utitft'  for  him." 

"Of  course  not,"  answered  the  ex-Pirate;  "there's  no 
chance  for  him  ever.  But  we  don't  consider  him.  ll'e 
take  all  the  chances." 

Tommy  did  not  understand,  but  this  was  nothing  new  to 
him,  and  he,  consented  to  play  anything  that  would  please 
the  rest. 

They  decided  to  have  a  game  of  Bumpolump.  It  took 
the  ex-Pirate  fully  fifteen  minutes  to  explain  to  the  little 
boy  how  Bumpolump  was  played,  and  even  then  Tommy 
never  got  a  clear  idea  of  it,  and  was  unable  to  give  his 
Uncle  Dick  the  slightest  explanation  of  how  it  was  done, 
except  that  It  had  an  inordinate  amount  of  running  about 
to  do,  while  the  others  seemed  to  get  all  the  fun.  And  at 
the  end  everybody  got  a  prize  except  It. 

"  I  should  not  think  you  would  like  this,"  said  Tommy  to 
It.  sympathetically. 

"  I  don't,"  answered  It.  "  I've  gotten  quite  beyond  that. 
My  life  is  one  long  pursuit  of  the  unattainable.  How  does 
it  feel  to  succeed?" 

T<i y,  not  knowing  just  what  to  say  under  the  circum- 

stanees,  hesitated  :  hut  before  he  could  reply  It  continued: 
"  You  see,  I  always  apparently  succeed  in  all  I  do — just 
as  in  Bumpolump — but  I  never  enjoy  the  fruits  of  success. 
The  others  always  get  the  prizes,  and  I  have  to  start  all 
over  again.  Some  day — 

But  just  then  an  Ibex  came  along,  aud  saying  "  Excuse 
me  "to  Tommy,  he  butted  It  up -to  the  other  end  of  the 
room,  where  a  lot  of  little  Ibexes  aud  Zebus  immediately 
began  to  hop  about,  apparently  playing  some  game  with  It, 


who  was  laboring: 


with  his  utmost  energy. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


992 


*INTERSCHOL9\STICi: 


WILL  BE  TWO  SETS  OF  FOOTBALL  RULES  ill  use  by 
J  the  college  teams  this  fall.  Yale  and  Princeton  wiil 
be  governed  by  one  code,  while  Harvard,  Pennsylvania,  and 
Cornell  will  play  their  games  according  to  another.  The 
official  rules  of  last  year  will  also  stand,  to  be  adopted  by 
the  smaller  colleges,  the  athletic  clubs,  and  possibly  by  the 
schools,  although  I  should  advise  the  schools  to  accept  the 
amendments  made  by  the  universities,  and  adopt  either  the 
Harvard  or  Yale  code,  with  a  preference  in  favor  of  the 
latter. 

THE  FIHST  IMPORTANT  CHANGE  is  found  in  Rule  8,  and 
relates  to  the  fair  catch.  Yale  and  Princeton  have  it,  that 
a  fair  catch  is  a  catch  made  directly  from  a  kick  by  an 
opponent,  or  from  a  punt-out  by  a  player  on  the  side  having 
the  ball,  provided  the  man  making  the  catch  does  not  ad- 
vance beyond  a  mark  which  he  must  make  with  his  heel, 
and  provided  also  no  other  player  on  his  side  has  touched 
the  ball.  The  player  is  not  required  to  raise  his  hand  as  a 
sign  that  he  intends  to  make  a  catch,  and  if  he  is  inter- 
fered with,  or  thrown  by  an  opponent,  he  will  receive  fifteen 
yards,  unless  that  would  carry  him  across  the  goal-line,  in 
which  case  he  receives  only  half  the  distance.  Iu  the  Har- 
vard regulations  the  definition  of  a  fair  catch  is  the  same 
as  the  one  just  given,  but  the  player  catching  the  ball  can- 
not run  with  it,  although  he  may  pass  it  back  to  one  of  his 
own  side,  who  may  then  run  with  it  or  kick  it.  If  this  is 
not  done  the  ball  must  be  put  in  play  where  the  catch  was 
made.  In  case  the  player  fails  in  his  attempt  at  making 
the  catch,  the  opponents  have  an  equal  chance  at  the  ball. 

THE  MOST  RADICAL  CHANGE  made  by  Yale  and  Princeton 
(and  an  excellent  one)  is  in  regard  to  mass  plays.  The 
rule  covering  this  point  states  that  in  scrimmages  not  more 
than  one  man  shall  start  forward  before  the  ball  is  in  play, 
and  not  more  than  three  men  shall  group  themselves  at  a 
point  behind  the  line  of  scrimmage  before  the  ball  is  put  in 
play,  although  the  man  playing  the  position  of  either  end 
rush  may  drop  back,  provided  he  does  not  pass  inside  the 
position  occupied  by  the  man  playing  adjacent  tackle  be- 
fore the  ball  is  put  in  play. 

As  TO  THE  OFFICIALS  OF  THE  GAME,  Yale  also  makes  an 
innovation.  This  year  there  will  be  an  umpire,  a  referee,  a 
linesman,  and  an  assistant  linesman,  any  one  of  whom  may 
disqualify  a  player  under  the  rules,  subject,  of  course,  to  the 
approval  of  the  umpire,  who  alone  may  be  appealed  to  by 
the  captains  regarding  fouls  and  unfair  tactics.  These  of- 
ficials are  also  empowered  to  formulate  ground  rules  prior 
to  each  game,  governing  the  disposition  of  the  ball  in  case 
it  touch  or  be  obstructed  by  some  person  or  object  snr- 
rouudiijg  the  field  of  play,  but  the  referee  must  announce 
the  rules  as  made  to  the  captains  before  calling  play. 

IN  THE  TRIPLE  ALLIANCE  there  are  to  be  two  umpires,  a 
referee,  and  a  linesman,  the  umpires  being  judges  of  the 
conduct  of  the  players,  the  referee  being  judge  of  the  posi- 
tion and  progress  of  the  ball,  and  the  linesman  being  judge 
of  time,  and  of  the  distance  gained  and  lost  by  each  play. 
The  umpires  shall  also  see  that  no  coaching  is  done  while 
the  game  is  in  progress,  and  they  have  the  power  to  send 
behind  the  ropes  any  substitute  or  other  person  who  at- 
tempts to  advise  the  players  while  the  ball  is  iu  play. 

OFF-SIDE  PLAY  WILL  BE  PUNISHED  by  Yale  and  Princeton 
by  the  enforcement  of  the  rule  that  says  that  if  a  player 
when  oft' side  touches  the  ball  inside  the  opp nt's  ten- 
yard  line  the  ball  shall  go  as  a  touch-back  to  the  opponents. 


These  colleges  further  legislate  that  seven  men  or  more 
must  be  in  the  rush  line  until  the  ball  has  been  put  in 
play,  except  in  the  case  I  have  already  cited,  where  the 
ends  may  drop  back. 

IT  IS  HARDLY  NECESSARY  for  me  to  say  to  every  man  who 
is  playing  football  this  year  that  the  lirsl  thing  for  him  to 
do  is  to  secure  one  of  the  new  hooks  of  rules  and  study  all 
the  changes  that  have  been  made.  Space  permits  me  to 
make  but  a  very  brief  mention  here  of  a  few  of  the  innova- 
tions. The  man  who  is  playing  on  the  field,  however,  must 
have  every  clause  at  liis  finger-tips,  and  know  the  spirit 
and  the  letter  of  the  law  by  heart.  Every  scholastic  league 
should  decide  at  once  which  code  it  will  use  this  year,  so 
that  the  captains  of  the  teams  may  begin  to  train  their  men 
iu  the  new  methods  that  some  of  the  changes  require. 

THE  TEAMS  OF  THE  CONNECTICUT  LEAGUE  have  been  at 
work  for  two  weeks  or  more  now,  and  several  unimportant 
practice  games  have  been  played.  The  Hartford  High 
School  players  started  in  with  preliminary  uulimbering  at 
Crescent  Beach  early  in  September.  Only  five  men  of  last 
year's  team  are  back  again,  although  Captain  Bryant  con- 
lidently  counted  on  six.  Smith,  who  played  centre  last  fall, 
shot  himself  iu  the  foot  recently,  and  will  he  laid  up  for 
some  time.  Bryant,  therefore,  will  try  it  between  the 
guards  for  a  while,  and  if  Smith  comes  back  later,  he  will 
be  put  in  at  tackle.  Goodell  will  be  the  other  tackle,  while 
Ingalls,  the  hammer- thrower,  and  Lyman  will  go  in  at 
guards.  The  ends  are  much  in  doubt,  lint  Monahan,  Ral- 
yea,  and  Garvau  stand  good  chances.  Stnrtevant  "ill 
probably  make  quarter-back,  while  Chapman  and  Jenkins 
will  no  doubt  be  found  at  half  at  the  end  of  the  season. 
Lure,  who  did  good  work  on  the  quarter-mile  track  last 
spring,  is  the  strongest  candidate  for  full-back.  On  the 
whole,  the  team  is  a  light  one. 

THE  PROSPECTS  FOR  A  GOOD  TEAM  at  Exeter  are  bright 
this  year, although  so  far  no  game  has  been  arranged  with 
Andover.  The  old  fend  seems  to  be  still  on  deck.  (But  I 
.hope  to  devote  some  space  to  that  bit  of  childishness  later. 
Now  we  are  talking  football.)  Five  of  last  year's  players 
are  back  at  P.E.A. — Scaunell,  K:is.son,  llreen,  (Jihhons.  and 
Hawkins.  Scauuell  is  Captain,  and  besides  being  a  good 
player  himself,  he  is  able  to  put  life  into  his  men.  He 
graduated  from  the  Newmarket  High-School  iu  '89,  and  en- 
tered the  academy  in  the  fall  of  '92.  That  season  he  made 
the  second  eleven,  and  played  a  good  game.  In  the  spring 
term  he  made  the  baseball  team,  and  filled  the  position  of 
centre-field  with  credit  to  himself  and  honor  to  the  acade- 
my. He  is  a  hard  worker.  He  is  a  little  heavy  for  tackle, 
but  liis  quickness  overcomes  this  handicap,  and  by  the  end 
of  the  season  he  will  doubtless  train  down. 

CENTRE  RUSH  WILL  BE  taken  care  of  by  Kassmi.  w  ho  did 
nood  work  on  the '94  eleven,  and  he  will  ha\e  a  veteran  in 
Breeu  as  his  right  guard,  unless  Connor  proves  a  better 
man.  A  candidate  for  tackle  is  Higley.  \\lio  held  that 
position  last  year  for  Audover.  Another  is  Evans  from 
Lowell,  who  was  Captain  of  his  High -.School  team  last 
year.  During  the  season  the  school  had  a  long  string  "t 
victories  and  retrieved  its  reputation,  which  was  fast 
dwindling  iu  the  defeats  of  the  fn  e  |u.  \  ion*  \ .  -ai  -  Evans 
appears  to  be  a  brilliant  man. but  lie  doe-  nni  know  the 

M •  well  enough  to  play  at  Phillips  Exeter  witboni  a  yreat 

deal  of  coaching.      He  stands  f>  feel  10  indie.-,  and  weighs 
170  pounds.    For  ends  Gibbons.  Shaw,  and  Robinson  are  t 
most    likely    candidates.     Hawkins.  Martiu,  and    Botcher 


993 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


will  try  t\n-  quarter-back.  Hawkins  <litl  good  work  last 
year,  ami  is  plucky,  That  he  will  not  give  up  his  position 
without  a  tussle  is  very  evident  from  his  practice-work. 
Martin,  formerly  of  Andover,  will  press  him  hard.  When 
at  Andover  he  played  quarter  on  the  second  eleven,  and  did 
good  work:  He  is  active  and  cool-headed. 

FOR  HALF-BACKS,  J.  B.  Gibbons  is  sure  of  one  position, 
lie  played  an  excellent  game  last  year,  and  will  undoubt- 
edly develop  further  this  fall.  McLane  will  probably  take 
care  of  the  other  side.  Whitcomb  and  Headdeu  are  trying 
for  full-back.  Whitcomb  is  a  swift  runner,  and  distin- 
guished himself  last  spring,  when  he  smashed  the  school 
record  in  the  quarter-mile  race.  He  is  showing  up  well, 
and  plays  a  good  game.  Headdeu  is  uot  so  sure  a  man  as 
Whitcomb,  and  will  require  a  great  deal  of  coaching.  The 
Kxeicr  team's  lirst  game  of  the  season  was  played  against 
South  Berwick  on  September  17th,  and  resulted  in  a  vic- 
tory for  the  crimson  and  gray  by  a  score  of  6-0. 

IN  THE  NEW  ENGLAND  LEAGUE  it  looks  as  if  there  would 
be  a  hot  contest  again  this  year  for  the  championship. 
Cambridge  High  and  Latin  has  nearly  all  of  last  year's 
team  back.  There  will  be  only  three  vacant  places  in  the 
line,  Baldwin,  right  end,  Stearns,  right  guard,  and  Colum- 
bus, left  end,  not  having  returned  to  school.  Among  the 
new  men  with  the  squad  are  Hawes,  Seaver,  and  Barnes. 
The  backs  will  probably  be  the  same  as  last  year,  Camp- 
bell, Curry, and  Parker,  with  Saul  for  quarter-back. 

LAST  FRIDAY  the  Newton  High-School  eleven  played  the 
Ilrookline  High -School  team  at  Brookliue  to  determine 
which  one  should  be  takeu  into  the  Senior  League,  the 
former  having  been  the  tail-ender  in  the  Senior  League  last 
year,  while  Brookliue  was  an  easy  winner  in  its  owu  class. 
The  contest  occurred  too  late  in  the  week  for  me  to  be  able 
to  comment  on  it  here,  but  I  hope  to  say  something  of  the 
game  next  time- 
As  TO  THU  TWO  ELEVENS,  Brooldine  had  a  good  nucleus 
to  build  up  on.  Morse,  Hutchins,  Aechtler,  Gillespie,  North, 
Lewis,  and  Cook  are  on  deck,  the  latter  as  Captain.  Hutch- 
ins,  who  was  one  of  the  best  centres  in  the  Junior  League, 
last  fall,  will  play  the  same  position  this  year.  He  is  quick 
on  his  feet,  snaps  back  quickly,  and  breaks  through,  well. 
Gillespie,  at  right  tackle,  is  another  good  man.  He  is  quick 
iu  breaking  through  and  smashing  up  the  opponent's  inter- 
ference. North,  who  played  end  last  year,  has  beeu  moved 
up  to  left  half-back,  where  he  is  wiuniug  new  laurels  by 
his  tine  running  and  dodging.  For  the  position  of  full- 
back, Boyce,  substitute  on  last  year's  eleven,  has  the  best 
chance.  He  hits  the  line  hard  and  low,  and  is  good  at 
punting.  Two  new  men,  both  named  Talbot,  have  secured 
the  position  of  right  and  left  guards.  They  are  brothers, 
and  know  little  about  football,  but  since,  the  beginning  of 
hard  practice  they  have  developed  wonderfully  under  care- 
ful coaching.  Seaver  and  Parker  are  both  trying  to  make 
quarter-back.  Parker,  though  handicapped  by  his  light 
«  eight.  1  Is  pounds,  has  proved  himself  the  best  man  for  the 
place  so  far. 

NEWTON'S  TKA.M,  on  t.he  other  hand,  is  badly  handicapped 
by  the  loss  of  most  of  last  season's  players,  and  the  new 
mi'ii  do  not  seem  to  be  built  of  the  stuff  that,  grabs  cham- 
pionships. Captain  Lee  is  beyond  question  the  best  man 
on  the  team.  He  is  a,  veteran  in  his  position  of  centre 
rush,  and  is  an  earnest  and  conscientious  worker.  He  has 
been  obtaining  a  lot  of  good  coaching  as  a  candidate  for 
the  Newton  Athletic  Club's  eleven,  and  the  points  he  has 
thus  picked  up  he  has  taught  his  men.  He  is  5  feet  10 
inches  in  height,  and  weighs  1*0  pounds.  He  is  an  ag- 
gressive player,  and  quick  to  take  advantage  of  an  oppo- 
nent's weakness. 

OF  THE  NEW-COMERS  he  has  got  to  lick  into  shape,  How- 
ard is  the  most  promising  candidate.  He  is  trying  for  the 
positiou  of  right  guard,  the  place  left  vacant  by  Paul,  who 
was  the  star  player  of  last  year's  team,  and  who  is  trying 


for  a  place  in  the  line  of  the  Newton  Athletic  Club  this  sea- 
sou.  Howard,  while  rather  slow  on  his  feet,  has  the  mak- 
ing of  a  good  player.  Van  Voorhees  will  be  found  at  left 
guard,  and  Brigham,  who  gained  much  experience  on  the 
Newton  Athletic  second  eleven  last  year,  will  prove  a  for- 
midable man  at  left  tackle.  He  is  quick  in  getting  through 
the  interference,  and  tackles  hard  and  low. 

THE  OTHER  TACKLE  will  probably  be  Johnson,  who  is 
pretty  light  for  such  a  place,  but  his  activity  may  make 
up  for  other  deficiencies.  Colbing  will  make  right  end  a 
hard  place  to  get  a  gain.  Forssen,  a  new  man,  will  go 
in  at  quarter,  while  the  halves  will  be  Chase  and  Burdon. 
Chase  is  the  surest  ground-gainer,  and  can  lie  depended  on 
to  advance  the  ball  every  time  it  is  given  to  him.  Burdou 
is  good  for  aronud-the-end  plays,  as  he  is  a  fast  runner, 
good  dodger,  and  uses  his  blockers  to  the  best  advantage. 
His  chief  fault  is  in  uot  starting  the  second  the  ball  is 
snapped.  Bryant  is  pretty  sure  of  full-hack,  as  he  is  the 
best  punter  on  the  team.  He  runs  low  and  hard,  hut  is 
apt  to  fumble. 

WHAT  HAS  WEAKENED  the  Newton  team  more  than  the 
lack  of  old  material,  however,  is  the  preference  the  candi- 
dates for  positions  on  the  eleven  have  been  showing  for 
tennis.  For  the  past  ten  days  a  tennis  tournament  has 
beeu  in  progress,  and  many  of  the  football-players  have 
been  trying  for  the  prizes  there  in  preference  to  practicing 
with  the  eleven  on  the  school  grounds. 

THE  INTEREST  IN  FOOTBALL  and  baseball  has  always 
been  greater  in  the  New  England  schools  than  in  almost 
any  other,  as  I  have  frequently  found  occasion  to  mention 
in  these  columns.  An  additional  proof  of  this  fact,  if  any 
such  proof  were  needed,  is  that  the  Boston  English  High- 
School,  besides  putting  a  strong  school  team  into  the  field, 
is  supporting  class  teams.  The  class  of '98  especially  is 
doing  good  work  in  that  direction,  and  intends  to  arrange 
games,  if  possible,  with  all  the  first-year  classes  in  Boston. 
Such  teams  are  bound  to  be  a  good  thing  for  the  institu- 
tions that  have  them,  as  there  is  no  better  way  of  develop- 
ing material  which  will  eventually  prove  of  vast  benefit  to 
the  first  team. 

THE  KICKING  GAME  of  the  present  .will  he  taken  advan- 
tage of  by  the  Cambridge  M.T.S.  eleven,  for  Captain  Mur- 
phy has  among  his  new  men  as  good  a  punter  as  there  is 
on  any  team.  This  man  is  Yeager.  Last  year  he  made 
some  reputation  by  returning  for  Brewer  and  Fairchild  of 
the  Harvard  eleven  in  their  practice  before  the  Spring- 
field game.  After  catching  the  longest  punts  he  would 
return  the  ball  by  a  punt  of  the  entire  distance.  As  a 
rusher  Yeager  has  not  such  a  good  reputation,  but  with 
White  and  Thompson  as  side  partners  he  will  easily  be 
brought  up  to  the  standard.  Another  good  man  that  Cap- 
tain Murphy  may  rely  upon  is  Seaver,  who  used  to  go  to 
Brown  and  Nichols'.  He  has  of  late  been  practising  with 
C.  H.  and  L.,  and  will  try  for  an  end  on  the  C. M.T.S.  team. 
La*t  year  he  broke  his  arm  at  the  first  of  the  season,  hut 
his  play  improves  daily.  Brown,  who  tried  for  an  end  in 
'94,  is  out  agaii.  for  the  same  position.  Francis  and  Young 
are  other  candidates  for  end.  All  these  men  are  light, 
wiry  fellows,  but  seem  to  have  ability,  which  needs  only 
careful  coaching  to  bring  it  out. 

THE  OTHER  MEN  BEHIND  THE  LINE  give  promise  of  de- 
veloping into  clever  players — Sawiu  especially.  He  did 
well  at  quarter-back  a  season  ago,  but  his  light  weight 
makes  him  practically  useless  in  interference,  and  easily 
stopped  when  running  with  the  ball.  But  he  is  pln<K\, 
and  that  counts  for  much.  White  and  Thompson  will  be 
the  halves,  the  latter  coming  in  from  full-back,  where 
\Vager's  punting  makes  it  necessary  to  keep  him.  White 
developed  into  a  speedy  rusher  last  year,  and  was  always 
in  place  in  the  interference.  He  has  a  peculiar  style  of 
running,  and  when  he  strikes  the  line  whirls  around;  but 
nevertheless  he  proved  a  ground-gainer  in  last  season's 
games.  Thompson  is  a  veteran.  He  gains  the  most  grouud 


994 


HARPER'S   ROUND  TABLE 


when  figuring  in  centre  plays,  but  this  year 
he  will  lie  trained  for  runs  around  the  end. 

THE  PLAYKRS  for  the  vacancies  are  an  en- 
terprising lot,  who,  with  proper  training,  can 
be  moulded  into  shape.  The  men  for  the 
forward  positions  are  Hazeu,  Hayinan,  and 
Hums  for  centre,  and  Frye,  Gray,  and  Whit- 
ney for  guards.  Hazeu  is  a  big  fellow,  but 
has  never  played  innch,  while  Bnrus,  though 
eight  pounds  lighter,has  played  off  and  on 
for  the  last  two  years.  Frye  played  full- 
back on  the  Salem  High-School  team  last 
year,  but  is  better  qualified  for  a  line  posi- 
tion. He  is  a  strongly  built  fellow,  and 
•weighs  168  pounds.  Gray,  a  substitute  in 
'94,  will  try  for  guard  again  this  year. 
Whitney,  another  candidate,  tips  the  scales 
at  162  pounds.  This  is  a  light  team,  take 
it  all  in  all,  but  there  are  lots  of  good  stuff 
in  it,  and  with  good  coaching  ought  to 
carry  the  C.M.T.S.  colors  pretty  well  to  the 
top  by  November.  THE  GRADUATE. 


RASPBERRY   AND   COCOANUT 
CREAMS. 

HERE  are  two  receipts  for  delicious  can- 
dies that  yon  will  like  to  make,  but 
they  will  require,  as  many  candies  do,  con- 
fectioner's sugar  for  kneading  purposes.  A 
pound  of  this  will  be  enough  to  buy  at  first. 
Add  to  a  dessert-spoonful  of  raspberry  jam 
enough  confectioner's  sugar  to  make  a  paste. 
If  the  flavor  is  not  acid  enough  add  a  tiny 
bit  of  tartaric  acid,  crushed  very  fine.  Koll 
the  sugar  and  jam  into  small  balls  with  the 
palms  of  your  hands.  Then  take  some  of 
tin-  hardest  fondant  that  you  have  and  melt 
it  in  a  cup  in  boiling  water,  just  as  you  did 
in  making  chocolate  creams.  Add  a  drop 
or  two  of  cochineal  coloring  to  make  it  a 
pale  pink.  Now  dip  your  balls  in  this 
exactly  as  in  the  chocolate  creams.  If  the 
lit  tie  balls  are  not  smoothly  or  neatly  covered 
they  can  be  dipped  twice,  allowing  HUM 
enough  for  the  first  coat  to  harden.  For 
cocoannt  creams  take  two  table-spoonfuls 
of  grated  cocoaunt  and  dry  it  in  a  cool  oven, 
or  you  can  use  desiccated  cocoaunt  instead. 
Work  the  cocoanut  well  into  half  as  much 
fondant  candy,  and  then  .shape  into  balls, 
using  confectioner's  sugar  to  stiffen  tlie  mass 
sufficiently  for  handling.  Melt  some  fon- 
dant, flavor  it  with  vanilla,  and  dip  the  balls 
in  it,  as  directed  in  the  other  receipts.  Dip- 
ping the  candies  twice  will  probably  be  the 
rule,  as  they  will  rarely  look  smooth  enough 
after  the  first  coating. 


A    CLEVER  SUGGESTION. 

book -agent  who  really  means  to 
_  make  his  way  in  the  world  has  to  be  a 
person  of  an  inventive  turn  of  mind.  Peo- 
ple rarely  want  to  buy  the  books  he  has  to 
sell,  and  it  is  his  hard  fate  often  to  have 
to  argue  long  and  strongly  in  favor  of  his 
wares.  The  most  ingenious  of  these  hard- 
working people  that  has  yet  come  to  notice 
is  the  one  told  about  by  one  of  the  London 
papers.  The  agent  in  question  had  a  vol- 
ume to  sell  that  did  not  go  off  exactly  like 
hot  cakes,  and  at  one  particular  house  he 
was  met  with  a  most  decided  rebuff. 

"  It's  no  use  to  me.     I  never  read,"  said 
the  householder. 


"  lint   there's  your  family,''  said  the  cau- 
,'asser. 

"Haven't    any   family  —  nothing    but    a 
at." 

"  \\Y11,  yon  may  want  something  to  throw 
i!   the  cat," suggested  the  agent. 
The  book  was  purchased. 

A   NOVEL   FLY- CATCHER. 

EVERY  year  some  uewscheme  is  brought 
forth  for  the  purpose  of  catching  flies 
and  relieving  housekeepers  of  the  buzzing 
ittle  nuisances.  But  up  to  date  nobody 
lias  ever  thought  of  employing  a  mouse  in 
:liat  capacity,  until  a  certain  ambitions 
mouse  proved  his  talents  for  that  sort  of 
liing.  It  is  not  known  positively  whether 
all  mice  have  a  taste  for  flies,  but  it  is  cer- 
tain that  one  particular  little  representa- 
tive of  the  mouse  family  has  gained  great 
fame  by  the  able  manner  in  which  he  has 
lisposed  of  all  the  insects  within  reach. 
The  Shepherdstown  (West  Virginia)  Si-f/ixiir 
has  sung  his  praises,  and  he  is  quite  a  noted 
character  in  that  town.  This  mouse  made  a 


hole  for  himself  inside  llie  sho\\ 
a  drug-store  in  Shepherdstown,  and   when  a 
number  of  llies   were  alioul    Ins   nun 
appeared   from   his   abiding  place        li    luaf 

teled      not      ho\\      ]ll;MI\      people     si  ood      \\illlill 

the  store  or  blocked  the  pa\enient  outside. 
He  seemed  to  know  thai  he  would  noi  In- 

lesled.   and    devoted    himself  exellishely 

to  the  fly-Catching  business.  Standing  mi 
his  hind-legs,  \\ith  his  forcpaw.s  resting 
against  the  glass,  lie  would  grab  a  tlv  and 
then  retreat  behind  sr •  boxes  and  eat  n. 

Again     llr    \\olllit    eateh     the    illseet     while    on 

I  lie  \\  ing.  jumping  into  the  air  and  dealing 
it  a  blow  with  one  tiny  paw,  but  quick  as 
thought  in  securing  his  prey.  lie  would 
eat  all  of  the  fly  except  tin-  wings  with  the 
greatest  relish,  and  after  one  of  his  la.ds 
the  window-  would  be  covered  with  tin  die 
carded  wings  of  his  victims.  It  would  lie- 
quite  interesting  to  get  the  opinions  of  this 
little  hunter  in  regard  to  his  unusual  diet. 
and  find  out  whether  he  looked  upon  tlies 
in  the  light  of  ordinary  beefsteak,  or  re^aid- 
ed  them  as  delicacies,  sueh  as  quail  on  toast 
or  terrapin. 


ADVICRTISTCIVIJCNTS. 


Highest  of  all  in  Leavening  Strength. —  Latest  U.  S.  Gov't  Report. 


Baking 
Powder 


ABSOLUTELY^URE 

Say,    Boys ! 


We  cfo  Co 

GLOVES 

"  Conrooissier"    "Dent,  All- 
croft  S-  Co.,"  and  "  Fowncs." 

"  Courvoissier's"  four= 

button  Glace  Kid,  all  shades, 

$1.50  per  pair. 

MEN'S  DRIVING  GLOVES 


\ 


J 

NEW    YORK. 

<J'J3 


We  have  been  telling  you  about  the 

"Rugby'Watches 

fur  sume  time. 

If  you  have  not  sent  for  the 
"Rugby"  Catalogue,  you  are 
pretty  late.  It  is  your  mi-fortune. 

Turn  over  a  new  leaf  and  send  at 
once.  You  will  have  your  eyes  opened 
when  you  see  the  beautiful  designs 
on  the  cases.  The  catalogue  tells  all 
about  thrui. 

The  Waierbury   Watch  Co., 

203  \Vaterburv,  Conn. 


•  FREE.'  •   oictink 

Ipuult,    PfTil'l    b-ulp.    I'.xkcl  CAmtrK  UI..I 

I  \V;r.'  I'llt-  ' 

lUl.il.  Tot*l  Valil'  •"->,-    .-.ntfrfr  with  Iralnrn". 


ciiaoeD*  o  . 


H 


' 

class  fied,  and     in 

.will  l.e  sent  by  mail  to  any  ad- 

CATALOGU 

Lcnls.      WH  I  HUUUU 


E 


ItafllictKl  »ith 

SOStEYJS 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


'cycle  route. 
Fair  bt'cyc/e  r 

station- 

road. 


BICYCLING 


Copyrlghtj  1895,  by  Harper  4  Brothel 


This  Department  IB  conducted  in  tile  interest  of  Bicyclers,  and  ttie  Editor  wilt  be  pleased  to 
answer  iiny  question  on  the  subject.  Our  maps  and  tours  contain  iniicli  valuable  data  kindly 
supplied  from  tile  oltidal  maps  and  road  -books  of  the  League  of  American  Wheelmen.  Recog- 
nizing the  value  of  the  work  being  done  by  the  L  A.  W..  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to  fun  ish 
subscribers  with  membership  blanks  and  Information  so  far  as  possible. 

T1HE  fourth  stage  of  the  shore-line  trip  from  New  York 
to  Boston  is  a  short  one,  of  not  more  than  twenty-eight 
miles,  extending  from  New  London  to  Shannock.  Leaving 
the  Pequot  House,  if  that  is  the  point  where  you  have  put 
up  at  New  London,  you  should  proceed  into  the  city  of 
New  London  along  the  trolley-car  route,  go  at  once  to  the 
ferry  near  the  railway  station,  and  cross  to  Oroton.  There 
are  two  routes  from  here  eastward.  It  is  possible  for  you 
to  either  turn  to  the  left  immediately  on  arriving  on  the 
Groton  side  of  the  Thames,  and  proceed  some  distance  up 
the  river  (less  than  a  mile  altogether),  turn  to  the  right, 
and  run  over  through  Centre  Groton,  Burners  Corner,  and 
so  on,  following  the  secondary  route  marked  on  the  map 
through  Mystic,  and  joining  the  main  bicycle  road  again  at 
Stoningtou.  This  route  is,  however,  not  only  more  hilly, 
but,  the  road  is  in  a  poorer  condition,  and  passes  through  a 
less-picturesque  country. 

THE  rider  should  therefore  proceed  direct  from  the  ferry 
along  the  turnpike-road  to  Mystic  Bridge,  passing  over 
Poquonock  Bridge.  Crossing  the  Mystic  River  at  Mystic 
Bridge,  the  road  continues  direct  to  Stoniugton,  a  dis- 
tance of  about  ten  miles  from  New  London.  If  you  are 
making  the  journey  to  Shanuock  in  one  run — in  a  morn- 
ing, for  example — and  if  you  have  determined  to  reach 
Providence  before  night,  you  can  make  a  short-cut,  after 
crossing  the  bridge  leading  into  Stoningtou  and  before 
crossing  the  railroad,  by  turning  to  the  left  and  joining 
the  turnpike-road  again  a  mile  or  more  out  from  Stoning- 
ton.  From  here  on  the  road  through  Wequetequock  is  in 
fair  condition,  though  it  is  not  of  the  best.  In  case  you 
run  into  Stonington  and  make  a  stop,  you  should  run  out 
onto  the  main  road  by  Matthews  Street.  The  road  from 
Groton  to  Stonington  is  in  parts  remarkably  good,  and, 
especially  at  this  time  of  year,  the  whole,  route  as  far  as 
Westerly  will  be  found  to  be  a  good  bicycle  run,  if  the  side 
path  is  occasionally  resorted  to  between  villages.  Cross- 
ing the  river  at  Westerly  you  are  now  in  the  State  of 
Rhode  Island.  Thence  proceed  through  Potters  Hill,  Laurel 
Dale,  Ash  way,  to  Hopkinsou.  From  Hopkiuson  on  to  Shan- 
nock,  a  distance  of  between  seven  and  eight  miles,  the  road 
is  hilly  in  parts,  and  by  the  time  the  rider  has  passed 
through  Woodville  and  Caroline  Mills,  and  run  into  Shan- 
uock, he  will  be  ready  for  a  rest,  at  least  for  some  time, 
e.spceially  if  he  has  ridden  all  the  hills  at  a  good  speed. 

It  should  be  remembered,  as  was  said  last  week,  that 
this  run,  which  is  not  more  than  twenty-eight  or  twenty- 
nine  miles  at  the  most,  can  be  made  half  a  day's  run,  and 
the  journey  thence  continued  to  Providence.  Shannock 
would  be  about  half-way,  and  the  two  routes  might  be 
done  in  one  day,  and  can  easily  he  so  done  by  any  rider 
who  cares  to  do  between  fifty-five  and  sixty  miles.  It  is 
by  no  means  a  long  ride,  and  probably  yon  will  be  much 
more  comfortable  in  Providence  overnight  than  in  Shan- 
nock. At  the  same  time,  following  out  our  plan  of  making 
short,  easy  trips,  and  taking  it  for  granted,  as  we  have  done, 
that  the  average  rider  goes  for  pleasure,  with  time  enough, 
at  his  disposal,  we  shall  divide  this  distance  into  two 
stages. 

MOTH—  Map  of  New  York  city  asphalted  streets  in  No.  809.  Map  of 
route  from  New  York  to  Tarrytown  in  No.  810.  New  York  to  Stamford, 
Connecticut,  in  No.  611.  New  York  to  Staten  Island  in  No.  812.  New 
Jersey  from  Honoken  to  Pine  Brook  in  No.  813.  Brooklyn  in  No.  814. 
Brooklyn  to  Babylon  in  No.  815.  Brooklyn  to  Northport  in  No.  816. 
Tarrytown  to  Poughkeepsie  in  No.  817.  Poughkeepsle  to  Hudson  in 
No  818  Hudson  to  Albany  in  No.  819  Tottenville  to  Trenton  in  820. 
Trenton  to  Philadelphia  in  821.  Philadelphia  in  No.  822.  Philadelphia 

\\>-:ihiclcon  Route  in  No.  823.  Philadelphia  to  West  Chester  in  No. 
824  Philadelphia  to  Atlantic  City— First  Stage  in  No.  825 ;  Second 
Stage  in  No.  826  Philadelphia  to  Vineland  — First  Stage  in  No.  827. 
Second  Stage  in  No.  828.  New  York  to  Boston— Second  Stage  in  No.  829 ; 
ThhdStageinNo.  830. 


996 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


SOME  DON'TS  FOi!  BICYCLERS. 

BY   WILLIAM   IIEMMINGWAY. 

DON'T  try  to  do  too  much.  Ambitiou 
to  sliine  as  a  "  sturdier  "  has  seriously 
injured  tile  licaltli  of  many  :i  yooil.  strong 
rider.  Probably  no  form  of  exercise  is  so 
full  of  temptation  to  over-indulgence  as 
is  wheeling.  Except  during  the  moments 
of  hill-climbing,  it,  is  so  easy  to  send  the 
machine  spinning  along. 

How  often  you  hear  riders  say  •  "  I'm 
feeling  languid  and  draggy  to-day.  Can't 
imagine  what's  the  matter.  Had  a  splendid 
ride  of  sixty  miles  yesterday."  Isn't  that 
explanation  enough  ?  The  effects  of  too 
great  fatigue  often  last  as  long  as  life  it- 
self. If  the  muscles  alone  were  concerned 
it  wouldn't  matter  so  much,  but  the  great 
trouble  lies  in  another  quarter.  There  is 
always  danger  of  injuring  the  heart.  One 
can  recover  from  a  strained  muscle  or 
sprained  joint  or  broken  bone,  but  let  the 
heart  be  once  badly  strained,  and  you  may 
be  sure  that  the  evil  effects  will  last  a  life- 
time. 

Is  there  a  way  of  knowing  when  one  has 
ridden  enough?  Yes.  \Vht-neveryou  feel 
that  you  couldn't  dismount  and  run  a  quar- 
ter-mile at  good  speed,  it  is  time  to  stop 
wheeling.  Better  get  off  and  take  a  rest. 
Better  still,  put  away  tin-  wheel  for  the  day. 
There  will  be  many  other  days,  and  you  can 
enjoy  them  all  the  more  if  you  have  a 
sound  heart. 

Don't  wheel  up  a  steep  hill.  Leave  that 
sort  of  thing  to  fellows  who  haven't  enough 
sense  to  go  in  when  it  rains.  What  gain  is 
there  in  it,  anyhow  ?  You  can  walk  up  and 
push  your  wheel  just  as  fast,  and  with  one- 
quarter  of  the  exertion.  If  too  much  wheel- 
ing on  tin-  level  road  is  bad,  too  much  hill- 
climbing  is  ten  times  worse.  If  you  could 
look  into  the  minds  of  the  smart  hill-climb- 
ers, you  would  liud  that  they  half  kill  them- 
selves to  make  bystanders  think  they  are 
wonderful  riders.  Really,  that  sort  of 
thing  is  too  silly  to  talk  about  with  pa- 
tience. 

Don't  coast  too  much.  If  yon  feel  that 
life  without  coasting  is  a  mockery,  then  go 
to  some  hill  that  yon  are  thoroughly  fa- 
miliar with,  when'  there  are  no  crossings, 
where  you  can  watch  the  road  for  at  least 
one  hundred  miles  ahead,  and  then  take 
care.  No  matter  whether  you  have  coasted 
down  the  hill  a  hundred  times  before  or  not, 
the  danger  is  always  just  as  great.  Perhaps 
we  are  never  in  so  great  peril  as  when  we 
think  we  know  it  all. 

Don't  "scorch"  in  the  streets.  At  any 
crossing  you  are  liable  to  ruu  over  some 
pedestrian  or  to  collide  with  a  big  truck  or 
carriage.  Either  one  may  mean  a  life  lost, 
or  at  least  broken  bones.  You  wouldn't 
drive  a  horse  at  a  2.40  gait  through  the 
streets.  Remember  a  bicycle  in  quite  as 
dangerous. 

Don't  ride  on  the  left  side  of  the  street. 
Yonr  place  is  ou  the  right  side,  because  a 
bicycle  is  a  vehicle  in  the  eyes  of  the  law, 
having  the  same  rights  and  subject  to  the 
same  rules  as  any  other  vehicle.  If  any- 
thing happens  to  you  because  you  are  on 
the  wrong  side  of  the  street  you  cannot  re- 
cover damages. 

Don't  think,  because  somebody  you  kuow 


has  wheeled  .-i  "  century,"  that  yon  must  do 
it  too.  There  is  really  very  little  satisfaction 
in  riding  one  hundred  miles  merely  for  the 
sake  of  saying  that  you  have  done  it.  If 
any  other  wheelman  chooses  to  tire  his 
mnsrli-s  and  overstrain  his  heart  for  a  mere 
bit  of  boasting,  let  him  do  it.  I  know  that 
most  of  us  are  sorely  tempted  by  the  "  cen- 
tury" folly.  But  think  a  moment.  If  you 
owned  a  fine  thoroughbred  horse,  would  vou 
run  the  risk  of  ruining  him  forever  In 
speeding  him  to  the  utmost  limit  of  his 
strength  for  a  whole  day  ?  Yet  is  not  your 
o\\  n  health  more  valuable  to  you  than  all 
the  horses  in  the  world? 

Don't  let  your  cyclometer  be  your  mas- 
ter. Make  it  your  servant.  Don't  think, 
"I  have  wheeled  thirty  -  seven  miles  to- 
day, now  I'll  run  a  mile  and  a  half  up 
the  road  and  back  so  as  to  make  an  even 
forty."  Use  the  cyclometer  to  find  out  how 
soou  you  must  stop,  not  how  much  further 
yon  must  go. 

Don't  neglect  your  wheel.  Because  it 
doesn't  eat  is  no  reason  why  it  should  be 
starved.  It  needs  oil.  It  should  be  cleaned 
regularly  after  every  ride.  Be  sure  that  all 
tin'  bearings  are  oiled  at  least  once  for  ev- 
ery one  hundred  miles  travelled.  In  hot 
weather  the  oil  runs  off  faster.  Lubricate 
your  chain  every  time  you  go  out  for  a 
spin.  See  to  it  that  the  dust-caps  are  all  in 
perfect  order.  Dust  wears  out  bearings 
much  faster  than  ordinary  use. 

Don't  go  out  in  the  late  afternoon  with- 
out a  well-tilled  lamp,  especial!}'  if  you  live 
in  New  York.  Think  of  the  scores  of  wheel- 
men who  have  been  fined  for  riding  at  night 
without  lights,  to  say  nothing  of  the  danger 
of  going  milighted. 


AN  OUNCE  OF   PREVENTION 

is  cheaper  than  any  quantity  of  cure.  Don't  give 
children  imirotirs  tn-  sedatives.  They  are  unnecessary 
when  the  inl'ant  is  properly  nourished,  as  it  will  be  if 
brought  up  on  the  Gail  Burden  Eagle  Brand  Con- 
densed Milk.— [.Jdv.] 


ADVIORTISP^IETSTTS. 


You  See  Them 
Everywhere 


'""HNIIIIIIIIllll 

Satisfaction   and 
Speed  in 

Columbia 
Bicycles 

The  famous  Hartford  Single-Tube 
Tires  with  which  Columbia  Bicvcles 
are  equipped  add  much  to  the  pleas- 
ure Columbia  riders  have  in  biev- 
cling.  Even  the  dreaded  puncture 
loses  its  terrors  with  Hartford 
Single-Tubes.  Repaired  in  a  min- 
ute. Anyone  can  do  it.  Dunlop 
tires,  best  of  double  tubes,  if  you 
prefer. 


POPE    MFG.    CO. 


. 


THE  LUXURY  OFl 
SECURITY  IS  I 
FOUND  IN  THE 
DELONG  PAT- 
ENT HOOK  AND 


RICHARDSON  G-DEtONG 
BROS.   PHILADELPHIA 


"Napoleon" 

Handsome, 

instructive. 
One  of  the  new 

Parker 
Games 

For    Boys    and 
Girls. 

"Innocence 

Abroad," 
"  Waterloo," 
"  Chivalry." 
••  Yankee 

Doodle." 

ASK    FOR    THEM. 


postage  Stamps,  fcc. 

M'xe(l  Foreign  Postage  Stamps,  including 
Fiji  Islands,  Samoa,  Hawaii,  Hong  Kong,  for 
34c.  in  stamps  ;  10  varieties  U.  S.  Columbian  stamps, 
25c.;  entire  unused  5c.  aud  lOc.  Columbian  Enve- 
lopes, 25c.  the  pair.  Only  a  limited  number  were  is- 
sued by  U.  S.  Government.  E.  F.  GAMES,  Box  2631, 
San  Francisco,  Cal.  Established,  1S72. 


SHIPS 


Send  reference  and  9c.  stamp 
for  our  tine  approval  sheets  at 
50*  com.  PEWN  STAMP 
CO.,  IVliid  Gup,  Pa. 


Fine  foreign  stamps  from  China,  Queens- 
_     land,  Tasmania,   etc.,  all   different,  only 
lu  cents  ;  25  nil  different,  Persia,  etc.,  only  4  cents. 
JUDSON    N.     BURTON,   Madison,   New    York. 

100  all  dif.Veneznela.Bolivia, etc. .only  10c.; 
am  .-ill  ilif.  II nyli,  Hawaii, etc., only  ROc.  A g'tB 
w'l'dat5llperct.com.  List  Fit  UK!  ('.A. 
Stegniaiin,r>941  Cote  Briliante.si. Louis, Mo. 


Mixed  Australian,  etc.,  10c.;  1OS  varle- 
ties,  and  nice  album,  inc.:  15  unused. 10c.; 
Ill  Africa, Hlc.;  15  Ana,10c.  l'.P.Vincent,Chatham,N.Y. 

var. foreign  stumps  and  price-list  free  for  *2c.  r-t;iii)p. 
KXCKLSIOR  STAMP    CO.,  Keyport,  N.  J. 


STAMPS.    100  for  1'2c.;  40  U.S.,  25c.:  no  rubbish. 
50%  com.   KEYSTONE  STAMP  CO.,  Lebanon.  Pa. 

FREE  —  25  diff.  Japan,  Mexico,  etc.     Send  2c.  stamp. 
J.  A.  WILSON.   1108  Fail-mount.  Phila..  Pa. 


097 


HARPER'S    ROUND    TABLE 


Clever  Camping  Hints. 

The  Hound  Table  has  interested  me  greatly. 
Therefore  I  venture  to  offer  the  suggestions  which 
follow : 

When  camping  on  beach  or  in  the  mountains,  on 
prairie  or  in  forest,  it  is  a  good  plan  to  have  in  the 
outfit  a  number  of  iron  pins  or  stakes  about  half 
an  inch  thick  and  twelve  or  fifteen  inches  in  length. 
Three  of  these  should  be  driven  into  the  ground 
deep  enough  to  ensure  their  staying  upright,  mid  MI 
near  together  that  pot,  kettle,  or  pan,  and  perhaps 
the  coffee-pot,  will  stand  safely  on  the  ends  .if  the 
pins  when  the  coals  are  glowing  or  the  sticks  are 
blazing  beneath.  It  will  be  found  that  this  simple 
kitchen  range  is  for  several  reasons  better  than 
any  pole  on  forked  stakes  can  be.  and  is  incompar- 
ably better  than  a  c;nn|>-tir«-  without  some  device 
for  ensuring  the  uprightness  of  pot  or  pan. 

Many  campers  make  their  camp  fires  by  laying 
the  sticks  with  the  middle  on  the  coals  or  the 
blaze.  The  better  wuy  is  to  put  the  ends  to  the 
fire.  The  fire  can  be  managt  d  much  more  easily  in 
that  way,  by  withdrawing  a  few  slicks  if  the  heat 
is  too  great,  or  by  pushing  a  stick  or  more  in  be- 
tween the  pins  and  under  the  cooidng- vessel  if  the 
beat  is  not  enough.  Camp-fires  are  often  made  too 
big  for  the  needs  and  for  the  comtort  of  the  camp- 
ers. 

I  have  seen  a  camp-fire  made  on  the  surface  of  a 
broad  lake,  and  far  from  the  neareat  land,  yet  not 
in  the  canoe.  If  there  had  been  a  couple  '.I  shov- 
elfuls of  sand  or  earth,  the  fire  might  have  been 
made  in  the  canoe.  As  it  was,  the  Indian  gathered 
a  few  armfuls  of  green  sedges  and  grasses  and 
threw  them  on  the  water,  then  made  tbe  fire  on 
the  top  of  the  heap,  and  soon  had  roast  duck  for 
dinner. 

An  axe  is  a  clumsy  and  a  dangerous  tool  in  o; e 

and  in  camp.  It  is  awkward  in  shape,  and  heavy. 
It  can  be  used  for  many  purposes. but  the  mai-heii- 
can  be  used  for  all  the  purposes  for  which  an  axe 
is  used,  except  for  heavy  pounding,  and  is  admira- 
bly adapted  for  many  other  uses.  Millions  of  peo- 
ple from  Texas  to  Patagonia  have  long  found  the 
machete  an  ever-ready  tool. 

Machetes  are  of  many  shapes  and  sizes.  The  la- 
borer who  clears  trees  and  bush  from  land  uses  a 
broad  and  heavy  blade.  It  is  some  eighteen  or 
twenty  inches  in  length,  and  may  be.  three  inches 
wide  at  its  widest.  The  traveller  will  carry  a  ma- 
chete which  is  like  a  heavy  sword,  and  may  be 
straight  like  a  rapier,  or  curved  somewhat,  like  a 
cavalry  sword.  This  blade  may  be  two  feet  or 
even  twenty-six  inches  in  length.  For  camp  uses  I 
should  choose  one  like  those  the  laborers  use.  A 
leathern  sheath  with  belt  go  with  some  classes  of 
machetes.  With  one  of  these  an  effective  blow 
can  be  struck  for  cutting  brush,  trees  of  moderate 
size,  or  the  flesh  and  bones  of  game.  It  will  be 
useful  in  skinning  animals  or  in  cleaning  fish.  In 
short,  there  is  scarcely  any  cutting  about  a  camp 
which  cannot  be  done  far  better  with  a  machete 
than  with  the  best  of  axes,  and  the  price  is  the 
same  as  that  of  an  axe. 

I  have  found  no  better  bed  than  is  made  by  hav- 
ing a  wide  hem  turned  along  the  edges  of  very 
wide  canvas.  Through  these  hems  run  slender 
poles,  that  may  be  used  during  the  day  in  pushing 
a  canoe  over  shallow  waters.  The  ends  of  the 
poles  may  rest  in  notches  in  two  logs,  to  hold  them 
apart,  or  in  crotched  stakes  driven  into  the  ground, 
and  stayed  apart  by  sticks  lashed  to  them.  When 
not  in  service  as  a  bed  this  cot  may  be  used  as  a 
tarpaulin  to  cover  the  baggage  in  the  canoe. 

SuUTHBBlDGIi.M.SS.  B.    W.    PERRY. 


Ube  Music  IRacfe. 

SOME  ANECDOTES  OF  PAGANINI. 
Nicolo  Paganini  was  a  typical  violinist.  He  ob- 
tained a  permanent  position  at  the  court  of  Lnca 
in  liis  twenty-first  year,  after  remarkable  success 
as  a  boy,  and  there  composed  such  powerful  con- 
rerios  fortnightly  that  Napoleon's  sister,  Eliza 
Bacciocchi,  was  each  time  overcome  when  Paga- 
nini reached  the  harmonic  sounds.  One  day  Paga- 
nini announced  to  the  court  that  he  would  shortly 
play  a  novel  love-song.  He  accordingly  played  a 
wonderful  sonata  on  two  strings— 6  and  E.  G  rep- 
resented the  lady,  E  the  man.  The  court  was  car- 


ried away  with  the  beauty  of  the  piece.  At  the 
end  the  Princess  Eliza  remarked  to  Paganini, 
"Since  you  have  done  so  finely  a  thing  on  two 
chords,  can  you  make  us  hear  something  marvel- 
lous on  one?"  Paganini  smilingly  agreed;  and 
after  some  weeks,  on  the  day  of  St.  Napoleon,  exe- 
cuted a  brilliant  piece  on  the  chord  C,  which  he  en- 
titled "Napoleone." 

Paganiui,  the  elder,  was  an  avaricious  and  un- 
natural father.  When  Nicolo's  gains  had  amount- 
ed to  twenty  thousand  francs  the  father  threat- 
ened to  kill  him  if  the  whole  was  not  given  over. 
But  the  mother  was  faithful,  and  after  the  father 
had  passed  away  Paganini  said,  "I  took  care  of 
my  mother — a  sweet  duty." 

Though  loaded  with  honors  given  by  the  Pope, 
the  Emperor  of  Austria,  the  King  of  Prussia,  and 
others,  yet  the  latter  part  of  Paganini's  life  was  a 
constant  struggle.  He  was  of  a  delicate  make-up, 
and  his  whole  being  was  wrapped,  as  it  were,  in  his 
violin.  He  met  much  opposition  in  his  last  years. 
A  favorite  saying  of  his  was,  "  One  must  suffer  to 
make  others  feel."  Schottky  affirmed  that  1'aga- 
uini  possessed  a  musical  secret  by  means  of  which 
a  pupil  could  obtain  a  conception  of  the  capacities 
of  the  violiu  in  three  years.  This  secret,  which  Pa- 
ganini himself  declared  he  possessed,  was  never 
given  to  the  world. 

Many  compositions  have  been  ascribed  to  Paga- 
uini  which  are  mere  imitations.  The  few  genuine 
ones  contain  many  grotesque  turns  which  make 
them  all  the  more  fascinating.  Whatever  may 
have  been  the  faults  and  weaknesses  of  tbe  man, 
as  a  composer  Paganiui  was  a  star  among  his  con- 
temporaries. "As  a  composer  Paganini  stands 
very  high.  His  works  are  rich  in  invention,  genial, 
and  show  a  mastery  of  the  scientific  part  of  the 
art.1'  VINCENT  V  M.  BEEDE. 


mailed  to  all  applicants  about  October  1st.  There 
has  been  a  little  delay  in  publishing  the  ROUND 
TABLE  Handy  Book,  but  it  will  be  ready  October  1st 
and  forwarded  to  all  who  have  applied  for  it.  The 
Handy  Book  contains  thirty-six  pages  filled  with 
much  useful  information.  Those  who  want  Pat- 
ents should  ask  for  them,  and  in  doing  so  send  the 
names  of  friends  who  may  wish  to  belong  to  the 
Order.  Ask  for  a  Pat  run  Patent  for  your  teacher. 
The  Patents  will  be  handsomely  illuminated,  foui 
pages,  and  bear  on  the  last  page  full  information 
about  the  Order. 


Amateur  Journalism. 

The  Easton,  Pa.,  venture,  which  we  spoke  of  as 
Leisure  Hour,  came  out  at  last  as  the  Scribbler.  The 
September  issue  is  most  creditable.  It  is  small,  but 
hopes  to  grow.  We  hope  it  will.  Address  Nor- 
man Hart,  Robert  E.  James,  Jun.. or  George  F  Wil- 
son. 203.Northampton  Street.  The  Eclipse,  a  bright 
little  paper  published  by  F.  H.  Lovejoy,  Weldon, 
Pa.,  is  larger  now  than  ever— and  better.  The  fol- 
lowing-named want  to  receive  copies  of  amateur 
papers.  Harry  H.  Luther,  Hotel  Gordon.  Jamaica 
Plain.  Boston.  Mass.;  Charles  E.  Abbey,  Chester.  N. 
J.;  J.F.  Barksdale.  Hardy,  Miss.;  and  Harry  K.Whit- 
comb,  Umatilla,  Fla. 

Waller  S.  Beattie,  651  Madison  Avenue,  New  York 
city,  writes.- 

••  We  desire  original  contributions  for  our  paper, 
Sports  und  Science,  and  offer  a  handsome  book, 
monthly,  to  the  person  writing  the  best  short  story, 
poem,  or  sketch.  All  should  join  the  Sports  and 
Science  club,  and  receive  this  paper  free.  Send 
two-cent  stamp  for  postage  to  the  editor  for  all 
pan .iculurs  and  copy  of  paper. 

W.  s.  BBATTIE. 


Prizes  for  Short  Stories. 

HAKPEK'S  ROUND  TABLE  offers  five  prizes  for  the 
best  stories  of  adventure  written  by  a  Knight  or 
Lady  of  the  Round  Table.  Stories  must  contain 
at  least  five  hundred  and  not  over  fifteen  hundred 
words,  actual  count.  The  incident  must  be  a  prob- 
able one,  and  the  story  well  told,  both  in  sequence 
of-events  and  language  employed.  As  far  as  prac- 
ticable, type-write  the  story,  but  this  is  not  made  a 
condition.  At  the  top  of  the  first  page  place  your 
name,  age,  aud  address  in  full,  the  number  of  words 
iu  your  story,  and  say  where  you  saw  this  offer. 
Do  not  roll  your  manuscript.  Use  paper  about  5 
by  8  inches  in  size  ,  fold  it  or  seud  flat. 

Prepay  postage  and  enclose  return  postage.  Ad- 
dress it  not  later  than  December  25. 1895.  to  HAR- 
PER'S ROUND  TABLE,  New  York,  and  put  in  the  left- 
hand  corner  of  the  envelope  tbe  words  'Story 
Competition."  No  story  may  be  sent  by  you  that 
is  not  wholly  original  with  you,  aud  none  may  be 
submitted  that  has  ever  been  submitted  iu  any 
other  contest.  One  person  may  not  submit  more 
than  one  story.  Criticism  by  grown  persons  is  per 
missible.  The  prizes  are  $25  each  to  the  three 
best,  provided  there  are  three  good  stories.  If 
there  are  not  three  good  stories,  the  prizes  will  not 
be  awarded.  We  shall  not  award  a  prize  to  aud 
print  a  poor  story,  even  if  it  chance  to  be  the  best 
received  by  us  iu  this  competition.  One  of  the 
stories,  either  a  prize  one  or  otherwise,  as  we  may 
elect,  is  to  be  used  in  the  Peu-drawing  Contest,  aud 
printed,  if  good,  with  its  prize  illustration. 

*  *  * 
Prizes  for  Nonsense  Verses 

Nonsense  verses  are  ridiculous  jingles — the  more 
ridiculous  the  better.  They  may  be  four,  six,  or 
eight  Unas.  Five  prizes  are  offered  by  HARPER'S 
ROUND  TABLE  for  the  best— that  is,  for  the  most 
ridiculous.  Each  prize  is :  Fifty  engraved  visiting- 
cards,  in  a  neat  box,  with  copper  plate  for  future 
use.  Of  course  the  cards  bear  the  winner's  name. 
Competition  open  only  to  those  who  have  not 
passed  their  eighteenth  birthday.  Forward  not 
later  than  December  1, 1895. 

*  *  * 
About  the  Patents. 

The  new  Patents  and  also  the  Prospectuses  to 
those  who  have  asked  for  them,  in  order  that  they 
may  earn  prizes  for  placing  them  iu  the  hands  of 
families  likely  to  be  interested  in  them,  will  be 

998 


A  Visit  to  Robbers'  Cave. 

Several  summers  ago,  when  I  was  spending  my 
vacation  at  Leon  Springs,  we  were  sitting  on  the 
porch  toward  evening  when  some  one  suggested  a 
visit  to  Robbers'  Cave  for  the  next  day.  In  a  few 
minutes  all  those  idle  loungers  had  dispersed,  some 
to  see  about  a  guide  and  horses,  others  to  make 
arrangements  for  a  lunch. 

After  an  early  breakfast  we  mounted  our  horses 
and  rode  oft,  leaving  the  lunch  to  be  brought  in  the 
surrey.  When  we  reached  the  mouth  of  the  cave 
we  were  a  rather  jolted-up  crowd,  for  riding  over 
hills  in  Texas  is  not  ,ike  riding  along  a  road  in  San 
Antonio.  But  by  the  time  the  surrey,  with  the  rope- 
ladder  and  torches  arrived,  we  were  squabbling 
over  who  should  go  down  first.  To  settle  that  we 
drew  straws,  aud  it  tell  to  my  lot  to  go  down  third. 
The  entrance  to  the  cave  was  not  more  than  six 
feet  round,  and  the  boltom  was  reached  after  a  de- 
scent of  twenty-five  feet.  Just  half-way  down 
there  was  a  landing  that  leads  off  to  the  upper  part 
of  the  cave. 

We  were  first  taken  to  the  room  that  looks  as  if 
it  were  full  of  statuary  that  had  been  slightly  de- 
faced. The  most  natural  of  these  is  a  bust  of  a 
veiled  woman.  Climbing  over  some  rocks  we  cume 
to  the  spring,  which  is  about  five  feet  in  circum- 
ference. In  the  centre  is  a  miniature  castle,  with 
its  towers,  turrets,  and  chimneys.  The  light  from 
our  torches  made  it  glisten  like  diamonds.  If  you 
stand  in  the  centre  of  the  main  cave  and  whisper, 
you  can  be  heard  in  all  parts.  We  threw  pebbles 
limvn  iu  a  shallow  pit  where  we  could  see  frogs 
hopping  about.  May  I  write  aud  tell  how  the  cave 
came  to  be  called  by  this  name  ? 

SAN  ANTONIO.  P.  V.  R.  LoCKWOOD. 

Yes. 


(Sluesttons  anfc  Hnswers. 

Jules  L.  Steele  :  One  competitor  in  the  poern  con- 
test may  send  only  one  poem.  The  rule  is  so  made 
because  it  is  better  for  competitors  to  put  their  ef- 
forts upon  one  production  than  to  attempt  to  pen 
two  or  more.  Harry  H.  Luther  thinks  the  Order 
should  hold  a  reunion  every  year.  Other  members 
say  they  think  the  same  way. 

A.  F.  MeC. :  You  may  send  only  one  poem  in  the 
prize  competition.  It  may  be  the  one  mentioned 
as  having  been  printed  in  a  local  paper.  Send  it 
in  manuscript,  however. 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Tills   Dep.trtiii.-nt      -     .  ..n.ln.  led   ill 

collectors,  and  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  n,  iinswci   nn\ 
these  subjects  so  fur  as  possible.     CorrespnudenU  sbuuld  add  if  •    Editol 
Stamp  Department. 

I  NTEREST  iu  the  uewly  discovered  varie- 
1  ties  of  the  U.  S.  stumps  continues,  iiiitl 
lias  led  tt)  the  closer  examinatiou  of  all 
otberU.S. stamps, resulting  in  the  discovery 
of  still  other  varieties.  The  latest  is  thr 
lOc.  greeu  of  1861,  a  stamp  catalogued  at 
5c.  ouly,  as  it  is  to  be  found  in  large  quanti- 
ties, and  almost  every  collector  has  or  has 
had  many  duplicates. 

The  lirst  die  was  made 
with  the  five  stars  at 
the  top  of  the  stamp 
in  white  on  a  back- 
ground composed  of  line  perpendicular  lines 
ill.  It  seems  the  plate  soon 
I  I  showed  signs  of  wear  at 
the  top,  anil  a  new  die  was  II  III  1 1 1  I  I  I  I  I  I 
made  in  which  the  perpen-  i  I  '  I  Mil  II 1 1  I  I  III 
dicular  lines  ran  into  a  solid  curved  line, 
something  like  this. 

The  stamps  printed  from  the  original 
plates  an-  t|iiite  rare,  one  dealer  limling 
three  only  out  of  a  lot  of  nearly  five  hun- 
dred. The  new  variety  is  selling  at  vari- 
ous prices,  from  So  upward.  A  curious  re- 
sult of  the  new  discovery  has  lieen  the  find 
of  some  copies  with  the  1868  grill.  Of  course 
the  grill  is  counterfeit. 

NEW  JiKCRurrs  ARE  made  daily  to  the  ranks 

of  those  who  am  devoting  themselves  to  the 
collection  of  unused  U.  S.  stamps  in  blocks 
showing  the  imprint  and  plate  numbers  on 
the  margin.  Some  of  the  scarcer  1890  and 
1894  plate  numbers  are  to  be  sold  at  auction 
iu  New  York  within  a  few  weeks.  This 
branch  of  collecting  offers  special  facilities 
to  those  living  in  the  smaller  towns,  as  the 
post-offices  in  such  towns  frequently  have 
sheets  of  stamps  issued  many  years  ago, 
•whereas  in  the  large  cities  the  stamps  on 
hand  are  usually  of  tile  very  latest  printing 
only. 

THE  DLIKK  OF  YOUK  is  reported  to  have 
sold  his  collection  of  postage -stamps  to 
Baron  Ferdinand  de  Rothschild  for  $300,001). 

F.  L.  POTTS.— Dealers  offer  1S5T  half-dime  at  lOc. 

E.  v.  G.— Oiled  paper,  or  paraffine  paper,  will  pre- 
vent stamps  from  slicking  to  each  oilier.  But  the 
ordinary  "hinges"  or  "slickers"  will  not  adhere  to 
such  paper. 

A.L.EVA  MI. —U.S.  cents  are  quoted  as  follows  :  1S17 
lOc.;  the  variety  with  fifteen  stars  at  60c.  The  other 
cents  mentioned  from  5c.  to  15c.  each.  Half -cent, 
1S.M.  lOc.  Half-dollar,  1830,  T5c. 

\V  F.  T.— There  are  three  varieties  of  the  1799  silver 
dollar,  worth  $2,  $3,  $4  respectively. 

RAM.— 1842  dimes  are  quoted  at  20c.  The  1S57  and 
1858  ceiUs  at  Sc.  each. 

O.  E.  STUICI.E.—  See  answer  lo"K;iui." 

B.  MAGKI.SF.N.— Performed  stamps  from  the  centre 
as  margin  of  a  sheet,  thus  showing  one  side  without 
perforations,  are  not  so  desirahle  as  stamps  having  all 
four  tides  perforated.  Asa  rule  slumps  should  have 
all  paper  soaked  off  the  back.  The  only  exception  is 
in  the  case  of  valuable  stamps,  when  the  entire  envel- 
ope should  be  kept. 

PHILATUS. 


Copyright,  1894,  by  The  Procter  &  Gamble  Co.,  Cin'ti. 

ELISABETH  ROBINSON  SCOVIL,  Associ- 
ate Editor  of  The  Ladies  Home  Journal, 
and  a  Hospital  Superintendent  of  experi- 
ence, in  her  book,  "  The  Care  of  Chil- 
dren," recommends  the  use  of  Ivory  Soap 
for  bathing  infants,  and  says:  "There  is 
no  particular  virtue  in  Castile  Soap  which 
has  long  been  consecrated  to  this  purpose." 


lAAABBBCCGDDDEEEFFF 


GGGrjplUJJKKKLLLMM 
felNOOOPPPORRRSSSTru 


'WXXXYYYZZZMS 


CARD  PRINTERfflT 

Sets  any  name  in  one  minute;  prints  500  cards  an  hour  YOU  can 
make  money  with  it.  A  font  of  pretty  type,  also  Indelible  Ink, 
Type  Holder,  Pads  ajjd  Tweezers.  Best  Linen  karker,  worth  Sl.oo! 
Sample  mailed  FREK  for  lev.  stumps  for  postage  and  parking  on 
outht  and  large  catalogue  of  1,000  Bargains  in  household  articles 
and  novelties. 

COMICAL  i:  r  it  i:i:ic  STAMPS. 

More  fun  than  a  barrel  of  monkeys.  A  complete  set 
of  SIX  grotesque  little  people,  Policemen.  Dudes  and 
Devils,  with  everlasting  Ink  parts.  With  them  a  boy  ean 
make  a  circus  in  a  minute,  Postpaid  for  l<>  .  ,  „,» 

Address  K.  H.  INGEII.SOI.I,  .t  JSIIO 
Dept.  Sio,  27.        65  Cortlandt  St.,  Kew  York. 


SPALDINC'S 

OFFICIAL  FOOT -BALL  GUIDE 


Edited  by  Walter  Camp.  Contains  the  OFFICIAL 
RULES,  with  the  Yale  and  Princeton  and  the  Har- 
vard, Pennslyvania  and  Cornell  amendments, 

under  which  they  will  play.     Also  pictures  of  all  the 
leading  players  and  valuable  information.     10  cents. 
Handsome  catalogue  devoted  to  all  out-door  sports, 
and  containing  over  700  illustrations,  sent  free. 

A.  Q.  SPALDING  &  BROS., 


Chicago. 


Philadelphia. 


BALTIMOREAN 

lias  earned  more  money  for  boys 
than  all  other  presses  iii  the  mar- 
ket. I'.oys,  don't  idle  Hway  your 
time  when  you  cilli  buy  a  eelf- 
iukine  printing-press,  type,  and 

romplele  nulfit  for  $5.00.     Write 

for  particulars,  there  is  money 

in  it  for  yon. 

THE   J.  F.  IV.  DORM  AN    CO., 

K.ihii,, ..,-,.  Md.,  I  .».  \. 


I1CACNESS  &  HEAD  NOISES  CURED 

U  t  A  I1"'  "1V  INVISIBLE  Tubular  i  uahions.  Have  helped 
•    more  to  good   UCAB'nS  tHan   all   oilier  de- 
vices combined.      Whispers  nCMIla.     Help  ears  113  trasses 
do  eyes.  F.  Hlsrox,  858  B'dway,  N.Y.  BOOK  of  proofs  TREE 

Dialogues,  Speakers,  for  School 
Ohio  and  Parlor.  Catalogue  free. 
T.  S.  Denison.  Publisher.  Chicago  111. 


PLAYS 


BY  MARGARET  E.  SANGSTER 

Little  Knights  and  Ladies.     Verses  for  Young  People. 
Illustrated.     i6mo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $i  25. 

A  volume  of  poems  which  are  wholly  suitable  for  children's  read- 
ing, and  which  will  be  quite  as  welcome  to  the  children's  mothers. 
There  is  a  womanly  touch  which  will  win  for  Mrs.  Sangster  hundreds  of 
admirers. — N.  Y-  Times. 

A  volume  of  ballads  and  lyrical  pieces  for  young  people  by  an 
author  who  never  tires  her  readers.  .  .  .  All  are  of  high  quality. — Phila- 
delphia Bulletin. 

The  verses  in  tliis  collection  are  excellent;  all  of  them  are  sweet 
and  rhythmical.  .  .  .  Poetry  like  this  is  delightful ;  it  pleases  and  edu- 
cates, charms  and  inspires.  "  Little  Knights  and  Ladies"  will  meet  with 
a  hearty  welcome. — Brooklyn  Standard-Union. 


Published  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  New  York 


999 


HAEPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


HOP   LEE  AND   HIS  FAITHFUL  MULE-AN   EXCITING  SCENE   AT  THE   HOANG-HO    FERRY. 


JOHNNY'S    IDEA   OF   A  JOKE. 

"PA, "said  Johnny,  as  he  watched  his  father  filling  cart- 
ridges for  his  shot-gun,  "  wouldn't  it  he  a  joke  to  load  one 
of  those  cattridges  with  quiuiue  pills  and  shoot  a  hear  with 
'em." 


NOT  A   QUESTION   OF 
POVERTY. 

"SPEAKING  about  little 
folks,"  remarked  I  lie  B  shop, 
after  the  dry-goods  man  had 
gotten  through  with  his 
story  of  the  bright  thing 
which  his  little  four-year- 
old  daughter  had  said  at 
dinner  that  day  —  "speak- 
ing of  smart  little  folks,  I 
had  an  experience  with  one 
quite  a  good  many  years 
ago.  It  was  when  I  was 
candidating  for  my  first 
parish  that  I  preached  at  a 
little  village  down  iu  Penn- 
sylvania. I  was  entertained 
at  the  home  of  one  of  the 
wardens.  As  I  look  back  at 
that  sermon  now  it  must 
have  been  pretty  vealy,  but 
I  was  well  pleased  with  it 
then,  and  my  host  praised 
it  so  enthusiastically  on  the 
way  home  that  I  felt  tolera- 
bly sure  of  an  invitation  to 
occupy  the  rectory. 

"My  host  had  a  bright 
little  five-year-old  daugh- 
ter, and  she  and  I  got  to  be 
pretty  good  friends.  While 
I  was  waiting  for  the  depot 
wagon  to  come  and  bear  me 
away  from  the  scene  of  my 
triumph, the  next  morning, 
the  little  girl  suddenly  rau 
up  to  me  with  her  little  tin 
savings-bank.  The  dear  lit- 
tle thing  wanted  me  to  open 
the  bank  and  take  one-half 
of  the  money  for  myself.  I 
thanked  her  and  declined. 

"What  makes  you  think 
I  need  the  money,  dear?"  I 
asked. 

"Why,  unffin  much,  only 
when  papa  came  home  from 

church  yesterday  I  heard  him  tell  mamma  that  you  was  a 
miiililij  poor  preacher." 


AN  ERROR  SOMEWHERE. 
MY  pa  says  if  I  don't  keep  still 

Some  time,  I  won't  get  strong; 
But  when  I  watch  the  moving  sea, 
And  think  how  strong  the  waters  be, 

I  sort  of  think  he's  wrong. 


TEACHER.  "  Astronomy  is  a  wonderful  science,  Harry. 
Men  have  learned  through  it  not  only  how  far  off  the  stars 
are  from  the  earth,  but  what  they  are  made  of." 

HARRY.  "  It  seems  to  me  a  great  deal  more  wonderful 
how  they  found  out  their  names." 


PAPA.  "Are  you  sorry  you  hit  Wilbur?" 
BoBBy.   "Yes,  papa,  and  he  is  sorry  too." 


EXPLAINED. 

"WHY,  Howard,  child,  how  did  you  cut  yonr  lip  that 
way  ?"  cried  Mrs.  B. 

"Pla.ying,"  said  Howard.  "1  was  playing  I  was  a  goat, 
an'  I  tried  to  eat  a  tomatter  can." 


BOBBIE'S  COMPLIMENT. 
MY  sister  screws  her  face  np 

At  all  times  wheu  she  cries; 
But  she  can't  make  it  ngly 

However  hard  she  tries. 


BOBBY.  "If  you  fell  overboard  while  on  an  oceau  steam- 
er, what  would  yon  do  ?" 

JACK  (four  years  old).  "  I'd  go  to  sleep  on  one  of  the 
ocean's  pillows." 


A  GENEROUS  LAD. 
"TOMMY!" 
No  answer. 
"Tom-mee!!" 
"Well?" 

"  What  are  you  doing  to  your  brother  Willie  ?" 
"Nothiu'."  ' 

"Yes,  yon  are.     You  are  making  him  cry." 
"No,  I  ain't — I'm  bein' generous.     I'm  giviu'him  half  o' 
my  codliver-oil." 

A   VERY   GOOD  REASON. 
"  WISHT  I  was  a  codfish,"  said  Jack. 
"  Why  do  you  wish  that  ?"  asked  his  mother. 
"They  don't  have  to  take  codliver-oil.     They're  born 
with  all  they  need  already  inside  of  "em,"  said  Jack. 


1000 


HARPERS 


ROUND  TABLE 


Copyright,  1895,  by  HABPBB  &  BROTHKES.     All  Rights  Reserved. 


gaps 


PUBLISHED    WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI.— NO.  832. 


NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY,  OCTOBER  8,   1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COFY. 
TWO   DOLLAUS  A    TEAK. 


THE    COPPERTOWN    "STAR"     ROUTE. 


BY   W.  G.  VAN    TASSEL    SUTPHEN. 


THE  Happy  Thought,  as  will  be  remembered  by  those 
who  have  rend  "The  Lougineadow  Toll-Gate,"  was  a 
new  departure  in  bicycle  construction.  Although  provided 
with  pedals  that  could  be  used  in  an  emergency,  its  real 
motive-power  was  derived  from  naphtha  applied  through  a 
pair  of  cyliuders  built  upon  a  modification  of  the  hot-air 
priuciple,  and  working  directly  upon  the  rear  wheel.  The 
oil  was  admitted  drop  by  drop  to  the  cyliuders,  mixed  with 
air,  and  then  exploded  by  a  spark  from  an  electric  storage 
battery.  The  speed  was  regulated  by  the  flow  of  oil,  and 
the  operator  had  only  to  touch  a  hand-lever  to  get  any  rate 
he  wanted  from  one  up  to  thirty  miles  an  hour.  The  power 
could  be  instantly  shut  down  either  by  closing  the  oil  valve 
or  by  cutting  otf  the  electric  current.  Finally,  the  ma- 
chinery bad  but  few  working  parts,  and  was  therefore  not 


liable  to  get  out  of  order,  and  in  its  operation  it  was  abso- 
lutely safe,  there  being  no  boiler,  and  consequently  uo  pos- 
sibility of  an  explosion. 

The  Happy  Thought,  which  had  been  built  by  Mr.  March 
for  his  sou  Fred,  was  a  double  machine,  the  steersman  oc- 
cupying the  front  saddle  and  the  engineer  sitting  behind. 
Iu  general  appearance  the  Happy  Thought  resembled  the 
ordinary  "  tandem,"  the  only  noticeable  dift'ereuce  being  in 
its  huge  pneumatic  tires,  which  were  fully  four  inches  in 
diameter.  The  idea  was  that  they  would  ride  more  easily 
over  rough  roads,  would  not  slip  in  mud  nor  sink  in  sand, 
and  would  be  less  liable  to  puncture. 

It  was  nearly  a  year  since  that  memorable  night  when 
Fred  March  and  his  partner,  Jack  Howard,  had  run  down 
the  bank  robbers,  and  the  Happy  Thought  had  saved  the 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Jeffi  rion  Court-House  Bank  s-jn.nun  in  hard  cash.  Within 
tin1  last  six  months  copper  of  tine  quality  liad  l>een  dis- 
covered in  the  bills  west  of  Fairacre,  capital  bud  been  at- 
tracted, a  smelting  plant  was  in  process  of  erection,  and 
business  was  booming.  The  works  of  tbe  Copper  Com- 
pany were  situated  sonic  thirty  miles  away,  and  a  large 
force  of  men  were  working  night  aud  day  to  get  tbe  plant 
in  running  order.  The  company  were  building  a  branch 
rn:id  to  connect  with  the  railway  that  ran  ten  miles  to  the 
«ast  of  Fairacre,  but  at  present  the  only  means  of  communi- 
cation with  the,  outside  world  was  the  wagon-road,  which 
bad  been  constructed  over  Razor-Back  Ridge.  Tbe  govern- 
ment had  been  persuaded  to  establish  a  "  Star"  mail  route 
from  Fairacre  to  the  copper  camp,  aud  Fred,  with  the  as- 
sistance of  his  father,  had  succeeded  iu  obtaining  the  con- 
tract for  himself  and  Jack.  It  was  a  semi-weekly  route, 
the  trip  days  being  Tuesdays  and  Fridays,  and  for  two 
mouths  the  Happy  Thought  bad  run  regularly  between  the 
two  places,  leaving  Fairacre  at  one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon 
aud  returning  the  same  night. 

It  was  shortly  before  cue  o'clock  on  Friday,  tbe  31st  of 
August,  and  the  Happy  Thought  was  standing  in  front  of 
the  Fairacre  Post-office,  ready  for  her  regular  run.  Jack, 
oil-can  iu  baud,  was  giving  a  last  look  to  tlie  bearings, 
•while  Fred,  with  the  mail-bag  strapped  to  his  shoulders, 
stood  by  occasionally  glancing  at  his  watch.  It  was  al- 
most time  to  start,  but  the  boys  were  also  agents  for  the 
express  company,  and  Mr.  Simmons,  the  Fairacre  agent, 
seemed  to  lie  in  no  h'niTy  about  making  up  his  consign- 
ment. 

"One  o'clock,"  growled  Fred.  "I  don't  believe  he  has 
anything  for  us  to-day  ;"  and  then,  catching  sight  of  a  beck- 
oning linger  through  the  dusty  window-pane,  "Come  on, 
Jack,  he  wauts  to  see  us  both." 

"This  way,"  said  Mr.  Simmons,  briefly,  leading  the  boys 
to  the  back  room.  The  room  looked  into  an  enclosed  yard, 
but  Mr.  Simmons  drew  the  curtains  carefully.  Then  going 
to  his  safe,  he  unlocked  it,  and  took  out  a  thick  square  pack- 
age. "  To-morrow  is  pay-day  at  the  works,"  he  said, slowly, 
"and  there's  wages  for  three  months  coming  to  the  men. 
The  company  always  has  it  sent  up  by  express  from  the  city, 
and  $10,000  is  a  tidy  little  sum,"  he  concluded,  tapping  the 
package  gently  with  his  knuckles. 

"Of  course  we'll  be  careful,"  began  Fred. 

"In  course  you  mean  to  be,"  interrupted  Mr.  Simmons, 
gravely  ;  ••  but  I  know  what  boys  are,  and  you're  awful  care- 
less about  your  receipts." 

Fred  blushed  as  he  remembered  an  entry  on  the  Tuesday 
book  for  which  they  had  somehow  neglected  to  obtain  the 
necessary  signature  that  acknowledged  delivery. 

Mr.  Simmons  slipped  the  package  in  the  express  bag, 
locked  it,  and  handed  it  to  Jack.  "Good-by  and  good 
luck,"  he  added,  "  aud  be  sure  you  get  your  receipt." 

The  bag  with  its  precious  freight  was  quickly  strapped 
to  Jack's  back,  and  a  few  moments  later  the  Happy  Thought 
was  ploughing  down  the  dusty  road  at  twenty  miles  an 
hour 

The  distance  to  the  copper-works  was  a  trifle  over  thirty 
miles,  but  at  least  twelve  miles  of  it  was  steady  up-hill 
work.  Once  across  Razor-Back  Ridge,  it  was  better  tra\ el- 
ling,  and  the  Happy  Thought  generally  made  the  whole,  trip 
iu  a  few  minutes  over  two  hours.  The  road  was  reasonably 
smooth  aud  hard,  but  the  afternoon  suu  was  hot,  and  the 
boys  thought  longingly  of  the  cool  woods  that  covered  the 
further  side  of  the  ridge.  However,  the  Happy  Thought 
pushed  steadily  along,  aud  they  had  nothing  to  do  but  to 
keep  her  on  her  course. 

"Fifteen  minutes  late,"  said  Fred,  as  they  slid  gently 
over  the  summit,  and  slowed  down  to  oil  the  working  parts. 
"But  it's  au  easy  run, now,  and  we'll  be  in  Coppertown  by 
half  past  three — that  is,  if  nobody  stops  us  ou  the  way,"  be 
added,  with  a  short  laugh. 

"But  you  don't  think — "exclaimed  Jack, looking  up. 

"  Of  course  I  don't;  but  there  may  be  more  persons  than 
one  who  know  of  the  money  that's  going  through  to-day. 
There  isn't  a  house  between  here  and  Coppertown,  aud  you 
know  that  'Smooth  Jim'  broke  jail  ten  days  ago,  and  is 
with  his  gang  again." 


Jack  looked  disturbed. 

"But  I  don't  expect  to  see  the  gentleman,  and  anyway 
we  can  run  if  we  can't  fight — eh,  old  girl  f"  and  Fred  gave 
the  Happy  Thought  an  affectionate  pat  as  he  sprang  into 
his  saddle. 

"I  suppose  it's  what  we're  carrying  that  makes  me  feel 
nervous,"  thought  Fred,  as  they  rolled  smoothly  along  in 
the  cool  dense  shadow  of  the  beech-wood.  "There's  half- 
way." he  muttered  a  few  moments  later,  as  a  blasted  pine- 
tree  flashed  past.  "  We  are  doing  better  now,  and  the 
machinery  is  working  like  a  watch.  That  was  a  great  im- 
provement to  muffle  the  sound  of  the  exhaust ;  we  run 
along  as  quietly  as  a  cat  walking  on  velvet." 

There  was  a  touch  on  his  shoulder,aud  the  Happy  Thought 
came  to  a  dead  stop. 

"  Against  orders,  I  know,"  said  Jack,  leaning  forward  and 
speaking  under  his  breath,  "  but  look  back  there." 

The  dead  pine-tree  was  still  visible  some  four  hundred 
yards  away,  but  there  was  something  fluttering  from  oue 
of  its  branches — a  piece  of  red  flannel  rag. 

"A  signal,"  said  Fred,  shortly,  "  aud  it  means  that  some- 
body is  after  us — after  that,"  and  he  pointed  to  the  express 
bag.  "  We've  got  to  go  ou,  for  some  one  is  certainly  behind 
113.  We  can't  stay  here  and  be  gobbled  up,  and  a  rabbit 
could  hardly  get  through  that  laurel  scrub.  Besides,  there's 
just  a  chance  that  it  doesn't  mean  anything,  after  all.  We'll 
run  ahead  carefully,  aud  if  it  comes  to  the  worst,  we'll  cut 
everything  loose  and  make  a  dash  for  it.  There's  nothing 
short  of  a  rifle-bullet  that  can  catch  us." 

'•  Let  her  go,"  returned  Jack,  briefly. 

A  quarter  of  a  mile  further, and  the  boys  began  to  breathe 
easier.  They  were  on  Breakneck  Hill  now,  and  there  was 
nothing  suspicious  in  the  look  ahead.  Half-way  down,  aud 
as  they  swung  around  a  curve  Fred's  heart  suddenly  seem- 
ed to  leap  up  into  his  mouth.  His  eye  had  caught  the  mo- 
mentary gleam  of  something  moving  in  the  thick  foliage 
that  bordered  the  road  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill.  He  recog- 
nized it  iu  an  instant — the  silver  mounting  of  a  pistol.  He 
turned  aud  shouted  to  Jack. 

"Crack!  crack!"  aud  Fred  felt  the  wind  of  a  bullet  as  it 
sung  past.  "Crack!  crack!"  but  that  was  wider  of  the 
mark.  The  Happy  Thought  under  full  speed  had  bounded 
down  the  hill,  and  the  danger-point  was  passed.  He  could 
hear  faint  shouts  behind  him  and  the  short  quick  tramp  of 
horses'  hoofs.  Was  it  possible  that  they  had  escaped  ? 

With  fingers  tightly  clutched  on  the  handle-bars  Fred 
kept  the  Happy  Thought  in  the  middle  of  the  road.  The 
road-bed  was  smooth  and  bard,  but  the  front  wheel  was 
acting  oddly.  There  was  something  that  looked  like  a 
white  patch  on  the  tire,  and,  yes,  there  could  be  no  doubt 
about  it,  it  was  leaking  badly.  Evidently  the  tire  had 
been  cut  by  a  bullet,  aud  in  a  few  seconds  more  the  air 
would  be  out  of  it.  Just  ahead  was  a  curve  which  for  the 
moment  would  put  them  out  of  sight;  they  must  stop  iu 
time  to  take  to  the  woods.  In  his  excitement  Fred  put  his 
hand  behind  him  aud  shut  off  the  oil.  The  Happy  Thought 
stopped  just  around  the  curve,  and  Fred  jumped  oft'  aud 
looked  around. 

•Jin-lc  and  the  cxpresn  Ixnj  had  disappeared. 

In  his  bewilderment  and  dismay  Fred  hardly  knew  how 
he  managed  to  get  himself  and  the  Happy  Thought  under 
cover  before  the  pursuing  horsemeu  swept  by  at  a  slashing 
gallop.  There  were  four  of  them  in  all,  heavily  armed,  and 
with  their  faces  half  concealed  by  clumsy  masks.  Fred 
recognized  "Smooth  Jim"  in  the  leader  of  tbe  party,  aud 
the  sight  was  not  reassuring,  even  though  he  was  now 
looking  at  that  gentleman's  back.  Half  mechanically  he 
got  out  his  repair  kit,  and  began  to  patch  the  leaking  tire. 
"  Where  was  jack  ?"  was  the  question  that  seemed  to  dance 
in  letters  of  tire  before  his  eyes.  Could  he  be  lying  back 
there  in  the  road  with  a  bullet  in  his  head?  Was  he  a 
prisoner? 

But  wait  a  moment.  If  Jack  was  iu  their  bauds,  why 
had  lir  been  chased?  The  money  was  in  the  bag  strapped 
to  Jack's  back,  and  the  money  was  what  they  were  after. 
But  wait  again.  Was  he  sure  that  the  horsemen  were  pur- 
suing him?  Might  they  not  have  been  making  their  own 
escape,  having  secured  their  booty  ?  In  that  case  Jack  bad 


1002 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


teen  left  behind,  wounded  or  dead.  There  was  but  one 
thing-  to  do,  arid  that  was  to  steal  cautiously  back  and  find 
out. 

It  had  taken  Fred  some  ten  minutes  to  mend  the  tire  and 
come  to  this  conclusion.  At  the  point  where  he  had  made 
his  way  into  the  thicket  a  small  brook,  locally  called  a 
"  branch,"  crossed  the  road,  and  he  had  been  sitting  on  its 
bank.  As  he  rose  to  his  feet  he  happened  to  glance  up- 
stivam.  There  was  something  floating  down  with  the  cur- 
rent. Only  a  piece  of  bark.  But  stop!  The  little  craft 
carried  a  miniature  mast  made  from  a  hazel  twig,  and  in  the 
cleft  at  its  top  there  was  something  white — a  bit  of  folded 
paper. 

A  signal!  A  message!  Fred  watched  it  eagerly  as  it 
came  nearer.  Twice  it  grounded  against  an  overhanging 
branch,  but  the  current  swuug  it  clear  again.  A  moment 
more,  and  it  was  in  his  grasp.  A  note,  and  in  Jack's  hand- 
writing. Fred  tore  it  open. 

"Make  110  noise.  Don't  go  out  on  road.  There  is  a 
scour  on  each  side  of  you.  I  am  a  hundred  yards  upstream 
with  a  sprained  ankle.  Can  you  get  the  H.  T.  up  here  with- 
out noise  f  Have  a  plan.  JACK." 

A  few  minutes  later  and  Jack  was  telling  his  story.  He 
had  been  pitched  off  his  seat  by  a  sudden  lurch  just  as  the 
Happy  Thought  began  her  headlong  rush  down  the  hill, 
but  had  alighted  unhurt  in  a  clump  of  laurel.  Seeing'that 
Fred  had  safely  run  the  gauntlet,  he  had  made  his  way  into 
the  scrub  and  worked  cautiously  down  the  hill,  keeping 
parallel  with  the  road.  On  coming  to  a  little  bluff  that 
overhung  the  stream  he  had  caught  sight  of  Fred  in  his 
covert  by  the  road-side,  and  also  of  the  horsemen  who  had 
started  in  to  beat  the  bushes.  A  shout  would  have  be- 
trayed them  both.  He  must  creep  down  and  give  Fred 
warning.  Unfortunately,  in  descending  the  bluff  lie  slipped 
and  sprained  his  ankle.  Capture  seemed  certain.  And 
then  came  a  brilliant  thought.  The  water  that  flowed 
past  him  also  ran  by  Frrd.  Might  it  not  carry  the  warn- 
ing message  ?  The  rest  you  know. 

Jack  had  spent  the  time  in  making  for  himself  a  rough 
pair  of  crutches,  and  was  now  able  to  hobble  along. 

••  A  quarter  of  a  mile  further  upstream  there's  an  old 
•wood-road,"  he  went  on,  in  answer  to  Fred's  eager  query. 
"I  can  manage  to  take  care  of  myself  if  you  can  get  the 
machine  up  there.  The  road  will  take  us  straight  into 
Coppertown,  and  we'll  save  the  money  yet." 

It  was  difficult  work  up  the  stony  bed  of  the  branch,  but 
it  was  finally  accomplished,  and  the  Happy  Thought  was 
again  under  way,  though  at  a  reduced  speed,  for  the  wood 
road  was  not  in  very  good  repair.  Three,  five,  ten  miles, 
and  the  boys  begau  to  breathe.freely.  It  looked  as  though 
fortune  had  turned  in  their  favor  at  last. 

"  It  seems  to  have  grown  hazy,"  said  Fred,  a  few  moments 
later,  "  and  the  sky  and  the  sun  are  as  yellow  as  gold." 

"My  eyes  are  smarting," returned  Jack,  with  a  cough. 
"I  believe  it's  smoke;  and  look  there!" 

A  number  of  birds  were  flying  over  their  heads,  chatter- 
ing and  squawking  wildly. 

"They  fly  as  though  they  were  frightened," said  Fred, 
soberly.  "  Why,  there  are  all  kinds — quail,  blue-jays,  wood- 
cock, and  Bveu  a  couple  of  crows." 

A  deer  burst  from  the  thicket  and  came  galloping  past 
them,  with  eyes  starting  in  terror  and  dilated  nostrils. 
The  woods  seemed  suddenly  alive  with  rabbits  and  other 
small  game,  all  fleeing  as  though  for  their  lives. 

"The  woods,"  gasped  Fred — "they  are  on  fire!" 

From  their  position  of  the  moment  they  could  get  an  ex- 
tended view  around.  To  their  dismay  the  fire  was  already 
on  three  sides  of  them  and  rapidly  closing  in.  They  could 
not  go  back,  the  wind  was  driving  the  flames  directly  across 
the  road  behind  them.  The  only  chance  was  ahead,  and  it 
was  full  two  miles  to  the  open.  In  any  event  they  would 
have  to  make  a  final  dash  through  the  flames. 

It  was  little  that  Fred  could  afterwards  recall  of  that 
•wild  ride.  The  smoke  came  in  thick  eddying,  blinding, 
suffocating  gusts,  and  cinders,  first  black  and  then  redly 
alive,  fell  thick  about  them. 


"Another  half-mile,"  thought  Fred,  desperately,  as  the 
Happy  Thought  bounced  along  over  the  rough  road,  now 
lurching  to  one  side  and  now  to  another,  but  keeping  her 
feet  like  a  circus  acrobat. 

A  turn  in  the  road  and  he  could  see  the  open, but  it  was 
a  (laming  curtain  that  hung  between;  the  fire  was  across 
the  road-  And  what  was  that  that  lay  directly  athwart 
their  path,  and  in  the  very  centre  of  the  fiery  furnace  ? 
It  was  a  log  some  eight  or  ten  inches  in  diameter. 

It  was  a  snap  decision,  but  Fred  recognized  that  it  meant 
certain  death  to  stop.  To  put  the  Happy  Thought  straight 
at  the  obstruction,  like  a  steeple-chaser  at  a  hurdle — it  was 
a  slim  chance,  but  the  only  one.  He  could  feel  the  hot 
breath  of  the  fire  on  his  cheeks,  the  pungent  smoke  was 
gripping  his  throat  like  a  vise.  "Hold  hard!"  and  at 
thirty  miles  an  hour  Fred  felt  the  Happy  Thought  strike 
the  rounded  surface  of  the  log  fair  and  square.  The  slight- 
est possible  shock,  and  they  seemed  to  be  sailing  on,  on,  on, 
into  endless  space. 

When  he  opened  his  eyes  he  was  lying  on  the  counter  iu 
the  Copper  Company's  office,  with  the  superintendent  bend- 
ing over  him. 

"  All  right,  my  boy  ?" 

'•  Where's  Jack— and  the  Happy  Thought  ?" 

"  Safe  and  sound.  Your  partner  could  steer  the  machine 
from  his  seat,  you  know,  and  you  were  so  wedged  in  thai 
you  1'iiuld  not  fall.  And  I  was  driving  past  and  saw  you." 

"And  the  money — it's  safe?"  Fred  sat  up  and  pointed  to 
the  package  lying  on  the  counter. 

"  That !  Why,  that's  some  porous  plasters  I  ordered  from 
the  city.  Glad  you  brought  them  up  for  me." 

"  Porous  plasters !" 

The  superintendent  laughed.  "  My  dear  boy,  you  brought 
the  money  with  you  on  your  Tuesday  trip.  I  thought  you 
didn't  kuow  it,  for  you  forgot  to  take  my  receipt.  I've  just 
signed  for  it  now." 

"That's  what  Mr.  Simmons  meant  by  being  careful," 
put  iu  Jack.  "He  never  actually  said  that  the  money  was 
in  Iliis  package."' 

"  Well,"  said  Fred,  after  a  pause,  "  there  were  some 
other  people  that  got  fooled  too — '  Smooth  Jim,'  for  in- 
stance." 

"And  we've  got-  him,"  returned  the  superintendent, 
grimly,  "  We  were  looking  for  a  job  of  this  kind,  and  that 
is  why  the  money  was  scut  up  Tuesday.  The  fire  drove 
them  out  of  the  woods  plump  into  the  sheriff's  arms." 

'•  Tell  me,"  said  Fred  to  Jack,  when  they  were  alone, 
"  how  in  the  world  did  the  Happy  Thought  ever  jump  that 
big  log?" 

"Big  log!  Why,  Fred,  you're  dreaming.  Wait  a  minute; 
I  do  remember  going  over  a  beau -pole  just  before  you 
fainted." 

"Oh,"  said  Fred,  shortly. 

"I  declare,"  grumbled  Mr.  Simmons  the  nest  day,  as  he 
looked  at  the  express-book,  "  you  boys  are  awful  careless. 
You  never  got  a  receipt  for  them  porous  plasters." 


FEIENDS. 

NEVER  a  flower  so  debonair, 
And  full  of  a  gallant  grace, 
As  the  golden-rod  that  on  ledge  or  sod 

Seeks  but  a  foothold's  space. 
Asking  not  for  the  garden's  bed, 

Shelter  or  care  at  all, 

Standing  with  pride  by  the  highway  side, 
Or  climbing  the  mountain  wall. 

Ever  beside  her  own  true  knight 

The  dear  little  aster  lifts 
Her  purple  bloom,  in  light  or  gloom, 

Clothing  ravines  and  rifts 
With  a  royal  robe  that  is  fair  to  see, 

While  she  answers  back  the  nod, 
Queenly  and  bright,  on  vale  and  height, 

Of  her  lover,  the  golden-rod. 

MAKGARET  E.  SANGSTER. 


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HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


THE    NATIONAL    SOCIETY 

OF   THE    CHILDREN   OF  THE  AMERICAN 

REVOLUTION. 

PATRIOTISM,  that  powerful  ami  ennobliug  seutimeut, 
has  always  in  America  taken  a  deep  hold  upon  the 
hearts  of  its  people,  and  to-day  the  love  of  home  and  couu- 
Iry  is  as  strong  and  permanent  there  as  in  the  early  colonial 

period  or   the   thrilling 
times  of  '76. 

Within  the  past  few 
years  the  formation  of 
the  many  patriotic  or- 
ders of  men  and  women 
has  done  much  to  rouse 
afresh  aud  to  extend  the 
feeling  of  national  pride 
aud  devotion,  and  now 
the  childreu  of  America 
are  to  have  this  samr 
impetus,  for  the  Nation- 
al Society  of  the  Chil- 
dreu of  the  American 
Revolution  is  tilready 
fouuded,  aud  rapidly 
gathering  within  its 
hospitable  doors  the 
children  and  youth 
from  all  over  the  laud. 
Aud  the  best  part  of  it  is 

that  although  only  lineal  descendants  of  colonial  and  Rev- 
olutionary ancestors  may  become  regular  members,  an  in- 
vitation and  warm  welcome  are  extended  to  all  children  of 
uo  matter  what  ancestry  or  nationality,  to  join  in  the  pub- 
lic gatherings  of  the  society,  aud  to  enjoy  its  pleasures  and 
benefits.  In  this  way  the  true  spirit  of  patriotism  may 
reach  every  boy  and  girl,  aud  there  is  no  limit  to  the  so- 
ciety's scope  or  influence.  This  movement  may  thus  be 
said  to  be  cue  of  "the  broadest  aud  most  beueficeut  yet 
started,  and  one  that  will  tend  to  popularize  the  work  of 
the  public  schools  toward  patriotism  and  good  govern- 
ment. 

At  the  age  of  eighteen  years  the  girls  may  pass  into  the 
rauks  of  the  Daughters  of  the  Americau  Revolution,  while 
their  brothers  at  twenty-one  enter  the  Sons  of  the  Amer- 
icau Revolution. 

The  idea  of  having  a  young  folks'  organization  first  ori- 
ginated with  Mrs.  Daniel  Lothrop,  known  in  every  house- 


MRS.    D.    LOTIIROP. 


TUB    ROOM    AT    "WAYSIDE"    WHERE   THE   FIRST    CHAPTER   WAS    ORGANIZED. 


hold  numbering  children  as  "Margaret  Sidney,"  author  of 
tlint  much-loved  book  Five  Little  Peppers,  and  a  score  of 
others.  Such  a  happy  aud  far-reaching  scheme  was  sure 
to  be  the  thought  of  just  such  a  woman  as  Mrs.  Lothrop, 


for  her  warm  heart  aud  fertile  brain  have  always  been 
busy  in  helping  boys  and  girls. 

At  the  last  Continental  Congress  of  the  Daughters  of  the 
American  Revolution,  held  in  Washington  iu  February, 
Mrs.  Lothrop,  who  is  Regent  of  the  Old  Concord  Chapter 
of  that  society,  laid  her  plan  before  the  femiuine  represen- 
tatives gathered  from  all  parts  of  the  Union,  and  they 
unanimously  voted  that  such  au  organization  should  be 
formed,  with  Mrs.  Lothrop  at  its  head.  Later  she  was 
elected  its  president  for  four  years,  with  power  to  organize 
the  society  iu  accordance  with  her  own  judgment  and 
regulations. 

Thus  ou  April  5, 1895,  the  new  association  was  founded 
iu  Washington,  its  permaueut  headquarters,  and  six  days 
later  was  incorporated 
under  the  Laws  of  Con- 
gress. It  will  soon  be 
in  full  swing,  for  a  vast 
number  of  big  aud  little 
boys  and  girls  all  over 
the  country  are  enroll- 
ing themselves  as  its 
members.  Aud  what  a 
delightful  vista  opens 
before  these  juvenile 
representatives ! 

They  say  iu  their 
constitution:  "  We,  the 
children  and  youth  of 
America,  in  order  to 
know  more  about  bur 
country  from  its  forma- 
tion, aud  thus  to  grow 
up  iuto  good  citizens, 
with  a  love  for  and  an 
understanding  of  the 
principles  aud  institu- 
tions of  our  ancestors, 
do  unite  uuder  the 
guidance  and  govern- 
ment of  the  Daughters 
of  the  Americau  Revo- 
lution in  the  society  to 
be  called  the  National 

Society  of  the  Children  of  the  American  Revolution.  All 
children  aud  youth  of  America,  of  both  sexes,  from  birth 
to  the  age  of  eighteen  years  for  the  girls  aud  twenty-one 
for  the  boys,  may  join  this  society,  provided  they  descend 
in  direct  line  from  patriotic  ancestors 
who  helped  to  plant  or  to  perpet- 
uate this  country  in  the  Colonies  or 
in  the  Revolutionary  War,  or  in  any 
other  way.  We  take  for  objects  in 
this  society  the  acquisition  of  kuow- 
ledge  of  Americau  history,  so  that  we 
may  understand  and  love  our  coun- 
try better,  and  then  any  patriotic 
work  that  will  help  us  to  that  end, 
keeping  a  constant  endeavor  to  in- 
flueuce  all  other  childreu  aud  youth 
to  the  same  purpose.  To  help  to  save 
the  places  made  sacred  by  the  Amer- 
ican men  aud  women  who  forwarded 
American  independence;  to  fiud  out 
and  to  honor  the  lives  of  children  and 
youth  of  the  Colonies  aud  of  the 
American  Revolution  ;  to  promote  the 
celebration  of  all  patriotic  anniver- 
saries ;  to  place  a  copy  of  the  Decla- 
ration of  Independence  and  other  pa- 
triotic documeuts  iu  every  place  ap- 
propriate for  them  ;  and  to  hold  our 
American  flag  sacred  above  every 
other  flag.  In  short,  to  follow  the  in- 
junctions of  Washington,  who  iu  his  youth  served  his 
country,  till  we  can  perform  the  duties  of  good  citizens. 
And  to  love,  uphold,  and  extend  the  institutions  of  Americau 
liberty,  aud  the  principles  that  made  aud  saved  our  country." 


THE    MoKEE    CHILDREN. 


1004 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


The  membership  fees  are  fifty  cents  the  first  year,  and 
twenty-live  cents  each  succeeding  year. 

The  young  members  are  forming  into  many  local  socie- 
ties or  chapters,  under  their  own  control,  but  each  one 
guided  by  a  president  chosen  from  among  the  Daughters  of 
the  American  Revolution,  who  has  only  the  good  of  her 
young  charges  at  heart.  In  this  way  the  latter  will  learu 
ho\v  to  rule  a  body  of  individuals,  old  or  young,  according 
to  parliamentary  law, just  as  the  United  States  .Senate  and 
House  of  Representatives  are  ruled.  It  will  also  teach 
them  to  be  just  and  logical  in  their  words  and  actions. 
Then  they  are  going  to  strive  above  all  else  to  be  God-fear- 
ing young  citizens,  to  reverence  and  uphold  the  funda- 
mental truths  of  their  country,  and  to  respect  each  other's 
rights. 

After  these  first  sober  considerations  will  come  the 
amusements.  One  of  the  society's  vice-  presidents,  Mrs. 
James  R.  McKee,  daughter  of  ex-President  Benjamin  Har- 
rison, has  proposed  the  idea  that  the  members  be  regularly 
taught  by  a  professional  musician  to  correctly  sing  by  heart 
all  the  national  hymns.  Such  a  training  in  childhood 
would  inspire  the  young  heads  and  hearts  for  a  lifetime 
with  a  profound  love 
and  loyalty  for  the  spot 
which  is  home  to  them 
all,  whether  by  inherit- 
ance or  adoption. 

Perhaps  the  best  way 
to  gain  an  insight  into 
the  future  work  and  re- 
creation of  the  society 
is  to  glance  at  the  do- 
ings of  the  first  local  so- 
ciety, founded  May  llth, 
at  Concord,  Massachu- 
setts, the  town  of  the 
"Old  North  Bridge,"  by 
Mrs.  Lothrop  herself. 
On  the  18th  of  June  a 
reading  circle  was  form- 
ed on  the  grounds  of 
"  The  Wayside,"  Mrs. 
Lothrop's  home,  and 
the  former  abiding- 
place  of  Hawthorne 

and  Louisa  M.  Alcott,  where  the  latter  lived  "Little 
Women  "  with  her  sisters,  and  wrote  it.  Three  or  four 
young  ladies  and  gentlemen  lent  their  services,  and  read 
history  to  the  children.  They  all  meet  every  fortnight  for 
a  couple  of  hours  in  the  afternoon  and  read  the  Life  of 
Washington,  John  Fiske's  American  Revolution,  or  any  ap- 
propriate historical  book  or  sketches  connected  with  the 
early  history  of  the  nation.  A  committee  of  boys  and  girls 
is  elected  to  select  the  readers  for  each  meeting,  and  also 
the  games  to  be  played.  Then  excursions  are  made  to 
different  historical  spots ;  one  was  to  Sudbury,  where  Long- 
fellow's Wayside  Inn  stands.  The  children  had  the  Tales 
of  a  Wayside  Inn  read  to  them  before  starting,  and  spent 

several  hours  on  the  spot, 
taking  luncheon  along, 
and  going  over  the  old 
house  leisurely.  This 
fall  a  party  of  the  chil- 
dren under  Mrs.  Lo- 
throp's care  are  to  make 
a  series  of  historical 
trips  to  Old  Boston  and 
its  vicinity.  Sometimes 
the  Concord  Chapter 
draws  up  a  plan  as  if 
going  on  one  of  these 
journeys,  and  then  with 
maps  and  books  and  lit- 
tle speeches  the  children 
have  an  hour  or  two  of 
pleasant  travelling  with- 
out actually  taking  the 
tour. 


MARGARET    I,.    MANN, 
DAUUUTEB  OF  SKO.  N.S.C.A.R. 


Iii  each  local  society 
the  youthful  members 
may  put,  their  heads  to- 
gether and  originate  all 
sorts  of  delightful  and 
enterprising  w-ays  of 
promoting  their  serious 
aims,  while  leaving  time 
for  pleasant  diversions. 

The  nation's  worthiest 
and  most  distinguished 
men  and  women  are  lend- 
ing their  personal  aid  and 
encouragement  to  the 
young  society.  In  each 
State  the  Governor  and 
his  wife  with  other  lead- 
ers along  various  lines 
stand  as  its  sponsors. 

Already  many  youthful  descendants  of  America's  early 
heroes  have  flocked  to  the  society's  standard,  among  them 
the  grandchildren  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  W.  Foster,  little 
Mary  Lodge  and  Benjamin  Harrison  (Baby)  McKce,  and 
Robert  John  Walker,  great-great-great-great-grandson  of 
Benjamin  Franklin. 

It  is  hoped  and  believed  by  all  interested  in  the  organi- 
zation that  its  aims  and  endeavors  will  tend  to  indelibly 
impress  on  the  miuds  of  youthful  Americans  the  great  les'- 
sous  of  national  importance  that  have  made  the  country 
what  it  is,  and  that  before  the  society  stretches  away  a 
future  of  usefulness  almost  incalculable  in  the  possibility 
of  its  issues. 


LUCY    H.    BRECKENRIDGE, 
SEC.  CAPITAL   SOOIETT. 


MARGARET    M.    LOTHROP, 
SEO.  "  OLD  NOKTH  BRIDGE  SOOIKTY.'' 


KING  KALAKAU'S  ARMY. 

OLD  King  Kalakau  I.,  of  the  Sandwich  Islands,  had  an 
army  that  numbered  by  actual  count  thirty  men,  and 
•was  so  proud  of  his  formidable  battalion  that  he  obliged 
it  to  go  through  its  drill  twice  daily  under  the  palace  win- 
dows. On  every  possible  occasion  he  had  his  phalanx 
parade,  and  was  supremely  happy  when  visited  by  com- 
manding officers  of  the  different  cruisers  in  the  Pacific,  for 
it  gave  him  an  opportunity  to  receive  them  at  the  landing- 
place  with  all  his  military  force  drawn  up  in  honor  of  his 
guests.  One  day  an  English  man-o'-war  entered  the  har- 
bor, and  the  flag-officer  on  board  sent  word  to  his  coffee- 
colored  majesty  that  he  would  pay  him  a  visit.  Instead 
of  waiting  in  his  palace  to  receive  the  officer,  the  King  sent 
to  the  barracks,  had  his  army  hunted  up,  and  at  their  head 
marched  down  to  the  quay,  where  he  formed  his  legion  in 
line,  then  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  dock  to  await  his 
coming  guest. 

Now  in  some  way  the  old  King  had  just  obtained  a  num- 
ber of  blue  cloth  army  overcoats,  together  with  a  lot  of 
spurs,  flint-lock  muskets,  and  big  bear-skin  hats,  such  as  are 
worn  by  drum-majors.  Under  the  broiling  tropical  sun  his 
warlike  host  stood,  two  ranks  deep,  the  heavy  overcoats 
about  them,  spurs  strapped  on  bare  feet,  and  their  heads 
supporting  the  enormous  hats,  while  their  muskets  were 
pointed  in  every  couceivable  direction. 

At  last  the  Commodore's  barge  was  seen  to  leave  the 
ship  and  make  for  the  laudiug.  The  King  hastily  took  his 
position  in  front  of  his  army,  and  as  the  English  officer 
stood  np  in  his  boat  to  leave  it,  the  King  called  out  to 
"  fire  and  present  arms." 

Then  the  funniest  thing  of  all  happened. 

The  men  in  the  rear  rank  did  not  elevate  their  muskets 
sufficiently,  and  the  consequence  was  that  the  next  minute 
the  air  was  full  of  fur  and  remnants  of  bear-skin  hats 
blown  away  from  the  heads  of  the  soldiers  in  front.  In 
another  moment  the  disgusted  and  angry  King  was  chasing 
his  demoralized  and  panic-stricken  army  up  the  dock,  be- 
laboring every  oue  of  them  that  he  overtook  with  his 
royal  mace. 

The  scene  was  too  much  for  the  dignity  of  the  English 
Commodore,  who  fell  back  in  the  stern-sheets  of  his  boat 
almost  strangled  with  laughter. 


1005 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


SEA    RANGERS. 

BY     KIRK     M  U  N  R  O  E, 

AUTHOR  OF  "  ROAD  RANGERS,"  THE  "MATE"  SERIES, 
"SNOW-SHOES  AND  SLEDGES,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER    III. 


ADMIRAL  MARLIN*   BECOMES   A   RANGER. 


ESIDES  being  a  Ranger,  Tom  Bur- 
gess bud  recently  joined  a  canoe 
dull,  and,  like  all  young  members 
of  such  associations,  was  most  en- 
thusiastic overtbe  new  sport  thus 
opened  to  him.  His  club  was  to 
camp  on  an  uninhabited  island 
near  the  eastern  end  of  Long  Isl- 
and Sound  for  two  weeks  during 
the  summer,  and  the  plan  that 
he  now  unfolded  to  Will  Rogers 

was  that  the  Rangers  should  also  go  into  camp  on  the  isl- 
and at  the  same  time. 

When,  according  to  bis  custom,  Captain  Will  called  a 
meeting  of  the  band,  aud  laid  this  proposition  before  them, 
it  was  received -with  such  an  outburst  of  enthusiasm  as 
left  no  doubt  of  its  popularity. 

Although  these  inland  boys  were  totally  ignorant  of  the 
sea  and  all  that  pertains  to  it,  save  for  such  knowledge  as 
they  had  gleaned  from  books,  and  the  very  queer  ideas  of  a 
seafaring  life  acquired  from  the  extraordinary  drama  in 
which  most  of  them  had  recently  taken  part,  tliey  believed 
themselves  to  be  pretty  well  posted  in  nautical  matters, 
and  were  most  anxious  to  test  their  theories  by  practical 
experience.  So  the  motion  to  become  "  Sea  Rangers,"  and 
participate,  in  the  proposed  "salt-water  range,"  as  Captain 
Will  called  it,  was  unanimously  carried.  Then  the  meet- 
ing was  hastily  adjourned  that  the  members  might  at  once 
laythe  gorgeous  scheme,just  unfolded  to  them,  before  their 
parents,  and  strive  to  gain  their  consent  to  its  being  under- 
taken. 

Alas,  that  such  enthusiasm  should  be  dampened!  But 
true  it  is  that,  on  the  following  morning,  in  spite  of  bicycles 
and  many  other  blessings,  the  Ready  Rangers  were  the 
most  disconsolate -looking  boys  to  be  seen  in  all  Berks. 
Not  one  of  them  had  succeeded  in  persuading  the  senior 
members  of  his  family  that  the  plan,  which  appeared  to 
him  so  simple  and  easy  of  accomplishment,  was  either  wise 
or  practicable. 

"  She  wanted  to  know  how  we  thought  of  going,  and 
how  we  expected  to  raise  money  for  the  trip,  aud  who  was 
going  to  take  care  of  us,  and  all  sorts  of  things  like  that," 
remarked  little  C'al  Moody,  sadly,  in  reference  to  his  inter- 
view with  his  mother.  "  She  said  she  never  heard  of  any- 
thing more  foolish,  even  from  the  Rangers,  aud  that  there 
was  no  use  in  even  thinking  about  it,  for  it  couldn't  be 
considered  for  a  minute." 

"  As  if  a  fellow  could  help  thinking  about  a  chance  that 
may  not  lie  ottered  again  in  a  lifetime,"  said  Cracker 
Bob  Jones.  "  But  my  folks  talked  just  that  same  way.'' 

••  Mine  too,"   added  boy  after  boy,  mournfully. 

"  I  don't  see,"  argued  Sam  Ray,  "  why  parents  are  never 
willing  to  own  up  that  some  boys  at  least  are  perfectly 
well  able  to  take  care  of  themselves." 

'•  They  might  give  us  just  one  chance  to  prove  whether 
we  are  or  not,"  broke  in  Mif  Bowers;  "  but  they  won't  even 
do  that.  They  just  say,  '  No,  and  that's  the  end  of  it.'  I 
declare  it's  enough  to  destroy  all  a  fellow's  ambition,"  he 
added,  bitterly. 

The  canoe  club  to  which  Tom  Burgess  belonged  had 
chartered  a  small  steamer,  that  was  to  take  them  from  New 
York  to  the  island  selected  for  their  encampment,  leave 
them  I  here,  and  call  for  them  again  at  the  end  of  two  weeks. 
As  the  Berks  hoys  contrasted  their  own  prospects  with 
those  thus  outlined  for  their  city  friends,  they  felt  more 
and  more  sorry  for  themselves,  and  longed  for  the  time 


when,  with  advancing  years,  they  should  throw   oft'  the 
shackles  of  boyhood. 

So  the  summer  wore  on,  school  dosed,  the  first  mouth  of 
vacation  was  passed,  and  as  the  time  arrived  for  the  canoe 
club  to  go  into  its  sea-side  camp,  the  Rangers,  to  whom  the 
topic  was  still  one  of  constant  conversation,  became  more 
and  more  depressed  aud  inclined  to  take  gloomy  views  of 
life  in  general. 

Suddenly,  as  though  by  magic,  everything  was  changed, 
and  in  a  twinkling  the  darkness  of  disappointment  was 
dissipated  by  the  golden  light  of  realized  hopes.  All  op- 
position to  their  cherished  scheme  was  swept  away  in  the 
space  of  a  few  hours;  and  while,  they  could  still  hardly 
credit  their  good-fortune,  the  Rangers  found  themselves 
working  like  beavers  to  make  ready  for  their  salt-water 
cruise.  They  were  to  do  the  thing  up  in  a  style  that  would 
beat  that  of  the  canoe  boys  out  of  sight,  too.  Oh!  it 
seemed  incredible,  and  they  had  to  reassure  each  other  of 
their  wonderful  good-fortune  every  time  they  met  in  order 
to  believe  in  its  reality. 

It  all  came  about  through  their  friend  Admiral  Marlin, 
who,  according  to  promise,  visited  Berks  to  determine  its- 
desirability  as  a  place  of  summer  residence.  Of  course  he- 
renewed  his  acquaintance  with  Will  Rogers,  and  was  taken 
to  the  engine-house,  where  he  admired  the  "  Ranger,"  and 
met  the  rest  of  the  band.  Of  course,  too,  the  blutT  old 
sailor  at  once  won  their  hearts  and  their  confidence  to  such 
an  extent  that  they  unfolded  to  him  all  their  longings  for 
a  seafaring  life,  and  their  recently  shattered  hopes  in  that 
direction. 

The  Admiral  took  their  part  at  once,  aud  said  it  was  too' 
bad;  that  every  boy  in  the  country  ought  to  know  some- 
thing of  the  sea,  and  that  the  more  he  knew  in  that  line 
the  better  it  would  be  both  for  him  and  the  country. 
Then  he  went  to  call  on  his  old  shipmate,  Mr.  Redmond 
Cnddeback,  who,  through  his  invention,  had  now  become  a 
large  stockholder  in  the  Berks  Mills. 

From  that  visit  the  big-hearted  old  sailor  returned  with 
a  beaming  face  and  the  air  of  one  who  is  charged  with  an 
urgent  mission.  That  afternoon,  in  company  with  Squire 
Bacon,  be  drove  from  house  to  house  until  he  had  held  a  per- 
sonal interview  with  the  parents  of  every  Ranger  in  Berks. 
Then  he  desired  Will  Rogers  to  call  a  special  meeting  of 
the  band  for  that  very  evening,  as  he  wished  to  make  them 
a  communication  of  the  greatest  importance. 

Never  had  the  Rangers  found  their  parents  so  smiling 
and  also  so  reticent  as  at  supper-time.  The  very  air  seem- 
ed tilled  with  a  pleasant  mystery,  and  when  the  members 
of  the  band  reached  Range  Hall  they  were  fully  impressed 
with  the  idea  that  something  big  was  about  to  happen. 
Nor  were  they  disappointed,  for  they  found  Admiral  Marlin 
occupying  Pup  Miller's  one  particular  chair,  aud  so  impa- 
tient to  address  them  that  he  could  hardly  wait  for  the 
formal  preliminaries  with  which  their  meetings  were  al- 
ways opened. 

As  soon,  therefore,  as  he  was  invited  to  speak  he  plunged 
at  once  into  his  subject  as  eagerly  as  though  he  were  a  boy 
himself,  by  saying: 

"It's  all  right,  lads,  and  you  can  go  on  that  salt-water 
cruise  just  as  quick  as  ever  you  have  a  mind." 

"Hurrah!"  shouted  Will  Rogers,  who  was  the  first  to 
grasp  the  full  meaning  of  this  astonishing  statement. 

Then  how  all  the  others  did  cheer,and  clap  their  hands,  and 
give  utterance  to  various  expressive  though  unintelligible 
exclamations  of  joy!  During  this  demonstration  the  Ad- 
miral smiled  and  bowed,  and  beamed  upon  them  as  though 
his  happiness  were  fully  equal  to  theirs. 

When  quiet-  was  at  length  restored,  he  continued:  "Yes, 
boys,  it's  all  arranged.  I've  applied  to  the  several  heads 
of  department,  and  obtained  leave  of  absence  for  every  one 
of  you,  with  permission  to  cross  the  sea.  But  it's  to  be  a 
regular  cruise  instead  of  a  mere  camping  frolic,  and  although 
you  will  visit  the  canoe  club  island, and  have  a  chance  to  join 
in  all  that  is  going  on, you  will  live  on  board  ship,  which 
is  to  my  mind  a  much  more  sensible  arrangement." 

"  Of  course  it  is!"  shouted  Jack  Jackstraw  and  the  "  mid- 
shipmite"  both  together. 

"The  ship,"  continued  the  Admiral,  only  smiling  at  this 


1006 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


interruption,  "  is  the  good  sloop  Millgirl  that  recently  came 

- tl  e  river  with  supplies  for  Berks  Mills,  and  is  now  lying 

"   o,  t  five  miles  down-stream,  at  the  head  of  navigation, 

waiting  for  a  return  charter.     She  has  been  pressed  into 

be  service  by  my  old  friend  Mr.  Redmond  Cnddebaok.who, 

throuM,  me,  tenders  her  to  the  Rangers  for  th,s  crnise. 

"Three  cheers  for  Mr.  Cmldeback!"  cried  Si  Carew,  and 
they  were  given  with  such  heartiness  as  to  be  heard  mor. 
tban  a  mile  away.  „  ,  , 

"  I  have  examined  Captain  Crotty.her  commander,    add- 
ed the  speaker, "  and  find  him  to  be  a  good  seaman.    He  is 
therefore  well  tilted  to  take  charge  of  a  lot  of  reckless  young 
landlubbers  like  you,  and  will  keep  au  eye  on  you  a 
time  you  are  away.     He  has  orders  to  maintain  strict  dis- 
cipline, and  to  give  you  such  instruction  m  seamanship  a 
the  length  of  the  cruise  will  allow.     So  now,  lads,  what  do 
you  say?     Are  you  prepared  to  ship  for  the  voyage  sign 
the  articles  of  war,  become  Sea  Rangers,  and  show  these 
New' York  lads  the  difference  between  sailing  tinder  -mv  as 
and  travelling  in  a  tea-kettle,  betwixt  living  aboard  a  ship 
that  will  rock  you  to  sleep  like  a  cradle  every  night  and 
campTn"  on  a 'dull,  unchanging  shore'-as  the  poet  chap 
rthtlv  calls  it-between  handling  a  sea-boat  and  paddl.ng 
about  in  a  toy  canoe?     I'm  waiting  for  an  expression  of 


prevented  by  his  duties  at  the  mills  from  taking  part  in 
the  present  expedition. 

"Waal  I'll  be  Mowed!"  exclaimed  Captain  Jabez  Crotty, 
as  the  Sea  Rangers  tumbled  out  of  Squire  Bacon's  big 
wan-on  that  had  brought  then,  down  to  where  the  MiUgirl 
was  moored,  and  boarded  the  sloop  with  a  rush. 

"  Good-morning,  noble  skipper.     I  trust  that  you  are  a 
ready  for  skipping!"  cried  Will  Rogers,  at  the  same  time 
making  a  profound  bow,  and  scraping  his  foot  m  i 
the  master  of  the  sloop. 

"  For  he  is  the  skipper,  and  we  are  the  shippers, 
Our  ship-  is  the  bold   Skippane. 
\inl  we  ship  with  no  skipper 
Who'll  not  skip  with  his  shippers, 
Whenever  the  wind  blows  free," 

sang  the  Sea  Rangers  in  chorus,  at  the  same  time  joining 
hands  and  dancing  in  a  circle  about  the  bewildered  sailor- 


"H.-ho,Kanger!  Hi-ho,  Ranger!  Hi-ho,  Ranger  Berks 
Berks!  Berks !'' answered  the  boys,  springing  to  then-  eet 
fn  uncontrollable  enthusiasm,  waving  their  hats,  and  deliv- 
ering the  Ready  Ranger  cheer  with  such  unanninty  and 
vehemence  as  left  not  the  slightest  doubt  ot  their  willing- 
ness to  become  Sea  Rangers  then  and  there. 

"  I  move  that  Admiral  Richard  Marlm  be  elected  to  hou 
orable  membership,"  said  Hal  Bacon. 

•  Second  the  motion  !"  shouted  every  member  present. 

"All  in  favor — "  began  Captain  Will. 

"Ave!"came  the  unanimous  response,  as  though  iron 
single   voice,  even    before    the   question    was    whc 

"""'carried  without  dissent."  announced  Will,  who  was  be- 
comin"  verv  expert  in  the  use  of  parliamentary  terms. 

I  thus  adding  a  retired  Admiral  to  their  ranks  that  a  - 
rea  v  Id  Annapolis  cadet,  the  Rangers  felt  that  their 
organization  and  the  United  States  navy  were  about,  as 
go'od  as  one  and  the  same  thing. 

CHAPTER     IV. 
LITTLE   CAL   AND   HIS   MERMAID. 

Two  days  after  that  on  which  the  gloom  of  the  Rangers 
J8  so  miraculously  changed  to  extravagant  joy  the ^keel 
sloop  Uillgirl  hoisted  her  well-patched  sails  and  began  to 
5  down  with  the  current  of  the  riven     ^^ 
topmast-head  fluttered  the  red-axe  flag  of  the  Read\  Kan 
ge's  while  on  her  deck  was  gathered  the  most  remarkable 
looking  crew  ever  seen  off  the  stage  of  a  theatre.    U  ithout 
ado  M  as  to  its  being  the  correct  thing,  every  boy  who 
had  borne  a  part  in  Blue  Billow  now  appeared  m  the  cos 
tume  he  had  worn  in  that  realistic  sea-drama  ;  w  hile  those 
o  had  not  been  thus  fortunate  had  made  such  alterations 
h.  their  everv-dav  garments  as  seemed  to  them  most  nau- 
«cal   and   appropriate.      Thus    Cracker   Bob   Jones  s  tall 
fi<rure  was  arrayed  in  the  white  duck  trousers,  sh 

s^^^^M^^rS 

CalMoodys  midshipmite  costume  of  blue  picket  and  rou- 
sers  ornamented  with  gilt  buttons,  was  somewhat,  marred 
bv  the  bg  rubber  boota  that  his  mother  had  ins  sted  on  us 
wearing  for  this  trip.  Abe  Crnger,  still  sustaining  IMS 
"ter  as  Bill  Bullseye,  also  wore  rubber  boots,  a  rub- 
ber Lat,  and  an  old  sou'wester  hat  that  was  several  sizes 
too  large  for  him.  Will  Rogers  wore  his  bicyc  e  nn, torn 
except  that  the  knee-breeches  were  replaced  bj  white 
duck  trousers,  similar  to  those  worn  by  the  others.  I  he 
remaining  members  were  coatless;  b«t  all  were  arrayed  in 
™"  dy  flannel  shirts  with  leather  belts  ami  sheath-knile 
attachments  The  gorgeous  uniform  of  Sir  Birch  Beer, 
which  part  had  been  taken  by  Reddy  Cuddeback,  did  not 
figure  on  this  occasion,  as  the  newest  active  membe 


a-il  I  mil  be  Mowed!"  he  gasped  for  the  second  time. 
"  They're  as  crazy  as  flounders,  every  last  one  of  'em.  An 
I've  o-ot'em  on  my  hands  for  two  hull  weeks." 

"We're  ready  for  dnty,  sir,"  announced  Will  at  the  con- 
clusion of  the  song  and  dance,  with  another  scrape  an. 
pull   at  his  forelock.     "You'll  find  us  brave  and  able  sea- 
men, and  if  you'll  only  issue  your  orders  we'll  gladlj  o 

lb  ""oh  ve  will,  will  ye  ?    Waal,  then  you  can  break  out  the 
chain-cable  and  polish  it  till  it  shines,  clean  the  barnacle 
offn  the  ship's  bottom,  keep  a  lookout  aloft  for  the  Fl^ng 
DrtAMM.and  another  over  the  bows  for  mermaids,  prac- 
tise all  hands  at  boxing  the  compass  backwards,  get 
bells  from  the  sun,  and  keep  out  of  my  sight  till  we  re  a*  ay 
for  fear  I'll  murder  some  of  ye." 

"Ay,  ay,  most  gallant   skipper,"  answered  \\  ill, 
grin-  and  then,  hitching  their  trousers  as  they  went,  the 
whole  boisterous  crowd  tumbled  down  below  to  examine 
The  interior  of  the  strange  home  they  expected  to  occupy 


onyd  disappeared,  Captain  Crotty  and  Ja- 
bez his  son,  commonly  called  "  young  Jabe,"  a  lad  of  se^  « 
teen  who  represented  the  sloop's  crew,  cast  off  the  moonng- 
liues  and  o-ot  their  clumsy  cratt  under  way 

The  Rangers  were  delighted  with  the  accommodations 

prepared  for  them  in  the  hold,  which  was  fitted  up  with 

empoVary  bunks  for  their  use.     Each  boy  made  a  rush  for 

the  hunk  that  seemed  to  him  most  desirable,  and  scramb 

into  it  to  test  its  comfort  as  well  as  to  make  good  his  claim 


„„„  ,  a,...  sailors  always  slept  in  hammocks,   re- 
marked Mif  Bowers,  in  a  disappointed  tone. 

"Oh  pshaw'"  replied  Abe  Cruger.  "They're  no  good, 
for  I  tried  itlt  home  and  nearly  broke  my  neck  tumbling 
ou  the  minute  I  got  to  sleep.  I  expect  hammock  is  only 
^  lor's  .  an  e  for  bed,  for  no  one  could  really  sleep  ,n  one  ; 
andthen.yov,  know,  they  al  ways  call  things  different  at  sea; 
But  I  say,  Will,  isn't  old  Crotty  a  daisy?  And  didn  ,  he, 
seem  surprised  to  find  us  looking  so  much  like  regular  sail- 
ors' What  did  he  mean,  though,  by  the  things  he  t 

t0  I0  don't  exactly  understand  myself."  replied  the  Ranger 
•    -      —  got  to  try  and  do  them, 


aid  ne-^murTrns,  anyhow,  if  we  didn't  keep  out 

°';sHSSS;Ksr'=s 

[ol  Bacon       "He  won't 


it      I  suppose  he  wants  to  send 

'r  know  what  he  meant  by  '  backwards,'  but  I  gness  up- 


1007 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


CAL   MOODY'S   MERMAID. 


were  built  and  what  few  nails  they  could  pick  up.  They 
got  an  axe  out  of  the  "  kitchen,"  as  Sam  Ray  called  the  gal- 
ley, and  made  such  a  racket  pounding  with  it  that  young 
Jabe  hurried  below  to  see  what  was  up.  The  moment  he 
appeared  they  pounced  on  him  and  demanded  the  bells. 

"  What  ever  do  you  fellers  mean  f"  he  queried,  at  the  same 
time  trying  to  shake  himself  loose. 

"The  eight  bells  that  Skipper  Crotty  said  we  were  to  get 
from  his  son,"  they  shouted;  "and  if  you  don't  give  'em  to 
us  we'll  report  you,  and  you'll  be  cat-o-nine-tailed  for  ne- 
glect of  duty." 

"  Cat-  o- nothing,"  retorted  young  Jabe,  in  a  disgusted 
tone.  "  You  cau  report  all  you  want  to.  Same  time  I'll 
do  some  reporting  myself;  and  when  the  old  man  hears 
what  you're  a -doing  to  his  best  compass  I  rather  guess 
there'll  be  somebody  besides  me  in  danger  of  the  cat." 

"  He  told  us  to  box  it." 

"We're  only  obeying  orders." 

"Guess  we  know  what  we're  doing." 

So  shouted  the  Rangers ;  and  when  young  Jabe  started 
t<>  ri-port  to  his  father  the  state  of  affairs  in  the  hold,  they 
all  sprang  after  him,  determined  to  present  their  side  of  the 
question,  and  utterly  forgetting  that  they  had  just  decided 
to  keep  out  of  the  skipper's  sight  for  a  time  at  least. 

The  sloop  was.  running  dead  before  a  light  breeze,  with 
its  big  mainsail  away  out  on  the  starboard  side,  and  Cap- 
tain Crotty  was  just  then  doing  some  very  fine  steering  in 
trying  to  clear  a  sharp  bend  in  the  river  without  gybing. 


The  sudden  rush  of  young  Jabe 
and  the  excited  boys,  all  shouting 
at  the  top  of  their  voices,  and  bear- 
ing down  on  him  with  frantic  ges- 
tures, so  startled  the  skipper  that 
for  a  single  moment  his  attention 
was  drawn  away  from  the  big  sail. 
"They're  stealing  the  compass!" 
"  He  won't  give  us  the  bells!" 
As  the  opposing  factions  uttered 
these  cries  there  came  a  mighty 
sweep  of  something  over  their 
heads.  The  next  moment  young 
Jabe  and  Cracker  Bob  Jones  were 
overboard  and  struggling  in  the 
river,  the  skipper,  Will  Rogers,  and 
several  more  of  the  Rangers  were 
flnug  to  the  deck,  and  the  sloop, 
left  to  her  own  devices,  was  round- 
ing into  the  wind  with  such  a 
slatting  of  sails,  sheets,  and  blocks, 
as  caused  those  boys  who  were  still 
below  to  imagine  that  she  had  been 
struck  by  a  cyclone.  The  mainsail 
had  gybed  over,  and  though  the 
boom  was,  fortunately,  so  lifted, 
that  it  cleared  the  heads  of  those 
who  stood  on  deck,  the  sheet  had 
tripped  them,  and  flung  two  of  the 
number  overboard. 

Mercifully  no  one  was  injured  by 
the  mishap ;  and  as  the  vessel  lost 
her  headway,  the  two  who  were 
overboard  managed  to  clamber  into 
the  small  boat  towing  astern.  They 
had  hardly  gained  this  place  of 
safety  when  Cracker  Bob  again 
sprang  into  the  water  after  his  be- 
ribboued  straw  hat  which  was 
jauntily  floating  away.  Glad  as  he 
was  to  recover  this  bit  of  property, 
he  was  heavy-hearted  at  the  loss 
of  his  highly  prized  pateut-leather 
pumps,  which  had  been  kicked  off 
and  lost  in  his  first  plunge. 

By  the  time  these  two  had  clam- 
bered aboard,  with  river  water  run- 
ning from  them  in  streams,  the  oth- 
ers had  regained  their  feet,  and 
were  examining  their  bruises,  while 

the  skipper,  after  assuring  himself  that  no  serious  damage 
•was  done,  was  jamming  the  helm  hard  down,  and  getting 
the  sloop  once  more  on  her  course.  He  did  not  utter  a 
word  until  this  was  accomplished,  when,  with  a  mournful 
shake  of  his  head,  he  exclaimed,  "And  this  is  only  the  be- 
ginning of  the  cruise !" 

Then,  as  though  remembering  that  authority  must  be 
maintained  at  all  hazards,  he  sung  out: 

"You  Jabe,  go  for'ard  and  wring  yourself.  As  for  you 
other  young  pirates,  you  stay  on  deck  aud  don't  get  out 
of  my  sight  for  a  single  minute,  or  I'll  murder  ye  all." 

At  this  awful  threat  little  Cal  Moody  sincerely  wished 
himself  once  more  safely  at  home,  though  the  others  minded 
it  so  little,  that  it  in  no  wise  lessened  the  interest  with 
which  they  watched  the  sleeves  of  Cracker  Bob's  flannel 
jacket  shrink  as  they  slowly  dried  in  the  hot  sun. 

Finally,  bethinking  himself  of  a  duty  that  he  might  per- 
form, and  perhaps  thereby  win  his  way  into  the  skipper's 
good  graces,  Cal  slipped  away  forward,  and  hung  over  the 
blult  bows  of  the  sloop  to  watch  for  the  mermaids,  in  whose 
existence  he  believed  as  firmly  as  in  his  own.  As  he  ga/.rd 
dowu  at  the  parted  waters  swiftly  streaming  backward, 
the  little  chap  became  so  oblivious  of  his  surroundings, 
that  when  a  great  fish  rushing  up  from  the  green  depths 
leaped  into  the  air  directly  beneath  him,  he  uttered  a 
startled  cry,  made  a  sudden  move,  and  took  a  header  into 
the  very  waters  that  were  closing  above  the  fish. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


1008 


OAKLEIQH. 


BY  ELLEN  DOUGLAS.  DELANO. 


XVI. 

BUT  Neal  would  not  "  give  in."     Cynthia's  renewed  en- 
treaties were  of  no  more  avail  than  they  bad  been  be- 
fore. 

"I  will  not  come,"  he  repeated  again  and  again,  and  at 
last  Cynthia  gave  up  asking. 

He  got  out  of  the  canoe  just  below  the  Oakleigh  landing, 
and  where  he  was  hidden  from  the  house. 

"  I  hope  you  won't  be  ill,  Cynthia,"  he  said.  '•  I  am  sorry 
I  made  you  come  out  such  a  day;  it  will  be  my  fault  if  you 
take  cold.  One  more  bad  tiling  I  bave  done.  My  life  isn't 
a  bit  of  good,  anyhow ;  I've  a  good  mind  to  go  and  drown 
m\M'lf — I'm  half  drowned  now." 

He  laughed  somewhat  bitterly,  as  he  looked  down  at  his 
drenched  clothes. 

"  Cynthia,  I'm  a  brute.  Hurry  in  and  change  your  things. 
I'm  oft'  to  Pelham;  I'll  take  a  train  there  for  Boston.  I'll 
let  you  know  where  I  go  ;  and  I  say,  Cynth,  won't  you  write 
to  a  fellow  now  and  then?  I  don't  deserve  it,  I  know,  but 
I'd  like  to  bear  from  you,  and  I'll  want  to  know  how  Edith 
gets  along." 

"Yes,  if  you  will  let  me  know  your  address.  Good-by, 
Neal,"  she  said,  sadly. 

"  Good-by." 

He  stood  and  watched 
her.  She  rounded  the  curve 
where  the  boat-house  was, 
and  waved  her  hand  as  she 
disappeared.  She  was  only 
a  few  yards  away,  and  yet 
he  could  no  longer  see  her. 
He  could  easily  imagine  how 
it  would  all  be. 

A  mau  would  come  down 
from  the  barn  and  help  her 
with  the  canoe.  She  would 
go  up  the  hill  and  follow  tbe 
path  to  the  side  door  behind 
the  conservatory.  There 
would  be  exclamations  of 
dismay  when  she  came  in, 
all  dripping  wet.  Hester 
and  the  servants  would  hur- 
ry to  belp  her,  and  she 
would  be  thoroughly  dried 
and  warmed ;  his  sister 
would  see  to  that — his  sis- 
ter, who  thought  him  no 
better  than  a  common  thief! 

And  then  Cynthia  would 
tell  bow  she  had  met  him, 
and  that  he  would  not  come 
home.  How  astonished  Hes- 
ter would  be  to  hear  that  he 
was  so  near!  He  turned 
abruptly  when  he  thought 
of  this,  and  sprang  up  the 
bank  to  the  road  that  lay 
between  Brenton  and  Pel- 
bam.  He  crossed  the  bridge, 
and  with  one  more  look  at 
the  dark  river,  struck  out 
at  a  good  pace  for  Pelham, 
the  nearest  railway  sta- 
tion. 

He  glanced  back  once  at 
the  chimneys  and  white 
walls  of  Oakleigh  when  he 
rear  I  led  the  spot  from  which 
they  could  be  seen  for  the 
last  time  oil  the  Pelham 
road.  Then,  bidding  good- 
by  to  his  past  life,  he  has- 
tened on. 


The  road  that  runs  from  Brenton  to  Pelham  is  very 
straight  after  one  has  passed  Oakleigh.  There  are  but  few 
bouses — nothing  but  meadows,  trees,  and  bushes  on  either 

side.  Neal,  tramping  over  the  broad  expanse  of  gra.\  r I. 

bad  nothing  to  distract  his  mind  from  tbe  thoughts  that 
filled  it.  At  first  they  were  very  desperate  ones. 

"Cynthia  bad  no  right  ti>  emne  and  rant  the  way  she 
did.  The  idea  of  calling  me  a  coward,  and  telling  me  I  was 
like  a  boy  in  a  dime  novel  because  1  ian  away!  It  \\  as 
the  only  thing  to  do.  They  had  no  1;  isiuess  to  suspect 
me.  They —  Confound  it !  I  won't  put  up  with  such  treat- 
ment. I'll  stick  to  my  resolution  and  drop  the  whole  con- 
cern. What  a  long,  straight  road  this  is,  and  how  I  hate 
the  rain !" 

At  last  be  reached  tbe  end  of  it  and  entered  tbe  little 
town  of  Pelham,  uninteresting  at  the  best  of  times,  and 
doubly  so  on  such  a  day  as  this.  Tbe  inhabitants  were  all 
within  doors;  not  eveu  a  dog  was  stirring. 

"Every  one  is  dry  and  comfortable  but  me,"  thought 
Neal,  miserably,  as  he  went  into  tbe  station. 

Fortunately,  the  next  t ruin  for  Boston  was  soon  due, and  it 
did  not  take  long  for  him  to  reach  the  friend's  bouse  in  one 
of  tbe  suburbs  at  which  he  bad  left  his  possessions. 


'I    HOPE    THEE    IS    NEITHER    EXTRAVAGANT    NOR    LAZY?" 
1009 


HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE 


A  merry  party  was  staying  there,  fur  the  Easter  holidays, 
and  Neal  was  the  subject  of  much  speculation  and  concern 
v  lieu  he  appeared,  weary  and  wet,  in  their  midst.  Every 
one  supposed  that  lie  liad  gone  to  Brentou  to  visit  his  sis- 
ti'r.  and  they  wondered  why  he  had  come  back  on  such  a 
stormy  day. 

Though  the  story  of  Neal  was  well  known  in  Brentou, 
oddly  enough  it  had  not  yet  reached  his  friends  in  Boston, 
and  he  did  not  enlighten  them.  He  went  to  his  room  and 
slaid  there  for  several  hours.  With  dry  clothes  he  came 
into  a  better  frame  of  mind. 

Poor  little  Cynthia!  How  good  she  was  to  come  to  meet 
him  such  a  day,  when  she  must  have  wanted  to  stay  with 
Edith.  Aud  how  badly  she  felt  about  him;  much  more  so 
than  he  deserved.  He  was  not  worth  it.  How  she  had 
fired  up  when  she  told  him  that  he  was  a  coward  !  He  must 
prove  to  her  that  lie  was  not.  He  would  never  give  in  and 
go  back  there,  never!  But.  there  were  other  ways  of  prov- 
ing it ;  he  could  go  to  work  and  show  her  that  he  was 
made  of  good  stuff  after  all.  He  should  not  have  fright- 
ened Cynthia  by  sayiug  that  he  would  "go  to  the  bad." 
But,  then,  he  had  been  abominably  treated.  He  could  not 
go  to  college  now,  for  lie  would  never  accept  it  from  Hes- 
sie,  who  had  been  willing  to  believe  he  took  the  money. 
He  lashed  himself  iuto  a  fury  again  as  he  thought  of  it. 
He  was  utterly  unreasonable,  but  of  course  he  was  fjnite 
unconscious  of  being  so. 

Finally  the  better  thoughts  came  uppermost  again,  and 
he  decided  what  to  do.  He  would  go  to  Philadelphia  and 
ask  his  guardian  to  put  him  in  the  way  of  getting  some 
work.  He  would  tell  him  the  whole  story.  Fortunately, 
he  did  not  remember  that  Cynthia  had  said  her  father 
•went  to  Philadelphia;  if  he  had  he  would  not  have  gone, 
thinking  that  his  guardian  would  have  been  prejinlired 
against  him  by  his  brother-in-law. 

He  packed  his  valise  and  started  that  night,  though  his 
friends  urged  him  to  stay  longer.  He  felt  a  feverish  im- 
patience to  be  off  and  have  things  settled.  With  it  w.-ts  a 
feeling  of  excitement;  he  was  going  to  seek  his  fortune. 
Thrown  upon  ,-i  eohl  world  by  the  unkind  and  unjust  sus- 
picious of  his  nearest  relatives,  he  would  rise  above  adverse 
circumstances  and  "ennoble  fate  by  nobly  bearing  it!" 

It  was  a  very  heroic  martyr  that  bought  a  ticket  for 
Philadelphia  that  night. 

He  did  not  engage  a  berth  in  the  sleeping-car;  he  was  a 
poor  man  now  and  must  begin  to  economize.  Besides,  upon 

counting  his  m< y  he  found  that  he  had  but  just  enough 

\\  ith  which  to  reach  his  destination. 

He  was  very  tired  with  the  adventures  of  the  last  two 
days,  and  the  night  before,  spent  in  a  shed,  had  not  been 
comfortable,  so  he  slept  well,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that 
he  was  not  in  a  Pullman  sleeper.  He  did  not  wake  until 
it  was  broad  daylight,  and  the  train  was  speeding  along 
through  New  Jersey.  The  storm  was  over,  the  sun  was 
shining  down  upon  a  bright  and  rain-washed  world,  and 
Neal  Gordon  was  entering  upon  a  new  life. 

"So  this  is  the  'Quaker  City,'"  he  thought,  as  the  train 
glided  over  the  bridges  and  into  the  huge  station.  "I 
wonder  if  every  one  is  in  a  broad-brimmed  hat '  Aud  now 
to  find  cousin  William  Carpenter.  He's  a  Quaker  of  the 
Quakers,  I  suppose;  I  can  never  get  iuto  the  habit  of  .say- 
ing '  thee'  and  '  thou.'" 

He  did  not  see  much  of  the  Quaker  element  in  the  busy 
si  at  ion,  nor  when  he  went  down  stairs  and  out  on  to  Broad 
•Street.  He  was  on  the  point  of  jumping  into  a  hansom  to 
1)6  driven  to  his  cousin's  house,  when  he  remembered  that 
lie  had  not  a  cent  in  his  pocket  with  which  to  pay  for  it. 
It  was  a  uovel  experience  for  Neal. 

He  inquired  the  way  to  Arch  Street,  and  found  that  it 
•was  not  very  far  from  where  he  was,  and  he  soon  reached 
the  designated  number. 

"Not  a  broad-brimmer  have  I  seen  yet,"  he  said  to  him- 
self, as  he  pulled  the  bell -handle.  He  looked  up  and 
down  the  street  while  he  waited.  It,  was  wider  than  some 
that  he  had  passed  through,  and  rather  quiet  except  for  the 
jingling  horse-cars.  It  was  very  straight,  and  lined  with 
red  brick  houses  with  white  marble  steps  and  heavy  wood- 
<_'n  shutters. 


He  looked  down,  as  he  stood  on  the  dazzling  steps,  at  his 
boots  splashed  with  Boston  mud,  and  he  shuddered  at  the 
effect  they  might  have  on  his  cousins.  He  should  have 
had  them  cleaned  at  the  station  ;  but  then  he  did  not  have 
rive  cents  to  spend. 

The  door  was  opened,  and  he  walked  into  the  parlor  and 
sent  up  his  card.  It  was  a  large  room  with  very  little  fur- 
niture in  it,  and  the  few  chairs  and  sofas  that  there  were 
stood  stiffly  apart.  Not  an  ornament  was  to  be  seeu  but  a 
large  clock  that  ticked  slowly  and  sedately  on  the  marble 
mantel- piece.  There  were  no  curtains,  but  "Venetian 
blinds,"  formed  of  green  slats,  hung  at  the  windows.  It  all 
looked  very  neat  and  very  bare,  and  extremely  stiff. 

It  was  not  long  before  Neal  heard  a  step  in  the  ball,  and 
an  elderly  man  entered  the  room.  He  was  very  tall,  and 
wore  a  long,  quaint-looking  coat  that  flapped  as  he  walked. 
His  face  was  smooth,  and  of  a  calm,  benign  expression  that 
Neal  afterwards  found  was  never  known  to  vary.  He  came 
in  with  outstretched  hand. 

"  Thee  is  Neal  Gordon.  I  am  pleased  to  meet  thee  again, 
cousin.  Come  up  stairs  to  breakfast;  Rachel  will  be  glad 
to  see  thee." 

Who  Rachel  was  Neal  could  not  imagine,  as  he  followed 
his  host  up  a  short  flight  of  stairs  to  the  breakfast-room. 
He  supposed  she  must  be  a  young  daughter  of  the  house, 
for  although  William  Carpenter  was  both  his  kinsman  and 
his  guardian,  the  relationship  had  until  now  been  mere- 
ly nominal,  and  Neal  knew  very  little  about  him  or  his 
family. 

Sitting  at  the  table,  behind  the  tall  silver  urn  and  the 
cups  and  saucers,  was  an  old  lady  in  a  close  white  cap  and 
.•-prelacies.  A  snowy  kerchief  of  some  tine  white  material 
was  folded  about  her  shoulders  over  a  gray  dress.  Her 
face,  also,  was  calm  and  sweet,  and  wore  the  same  expres- 
sion as  did  her  husband's. 

"Rachel,"  said  lie,  "this  is  our  cousin.  Neal  Gordon. 
Neal,  this  is  my  wife,  Rachel." 

"I  am  glad  to  see  thee,  Neal,"  she  said,  extending  her 
hand  without  rising;  "sit  down.  Thee'll  be  glad  to  have 
a  cup  of  coffee,  doubtless,  if  thee's  just  arrived  from  the 
train,  as  thee  has  the  look  of  doing."  This  with  a  glance 
at  his  travel  -stained  clothes. 

Neal,  very  conscious  of  his  muddy  boots,  thanked  her, 
and  sat  down  at  the  table,  where  a  neat-  looking  servant 
had  made  ready  a  place  for  him.  It  seemed  funny  that 
they  took  his  arrival  as  a  matter  of  course,  but  he  sup- 
posed that  was  the  Quaker  way.  At  any  rate,  they  were 
very  kind,  and  it  was  the  best  breakfast  he  ever  ate.  Even 
if  he  had  not  been  so  hungry,  the  coffee  would  have  been 
delicious,  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  too. 

His  cousins  asked  him  no  questions,  but  after  breakfast 
he  was  shown  to  a  room  and  told  to  make  himself  com- 
fortable. 

"But  I  would  like  to  speak  to  you,  sir,"  he  said  to  his 
host — "that  is,  if  you  don't  mind.  I  came  on  to  Philadel- 
phia on  business."  This  with  a  rather  grand  air. 

"Verily,"  said  William  Carpenter;  "but  I  have  no  time 
now.  I  go  to  my  office  every  day  at  this  hour.  Thee  can 
come  with  me  if  thee  wishes,  and  we  will  converse  there." 

Neal  agreed,  and  hastily  brushing  his  clothes  and  giving 
a  dab  to  his  boots  he  set  out,  much  amused  at  the  new 
company  in  which  he  found  himself.  Mr.  Carpenter  wore 
a  tall  beaver  hat,  of  wide  brim  and  ancient  shape,  which 
he  never  removed  from  his  head,  even  though  he  met  one  or 
two  ladies  who  bowed  to  him. 

"They  don't  all  seem  to  be  Quakers,  though."  thought 
Neal,  as,  leaving  Arch  Street,  they  took  their  way  across 
the  city,  and  met  and  passed  many  people  of  as  worldly 
an  aspect  as  any  to  be  seen  in  Boston — in  fact,  his  com- 
panion's broad-brimmed  hat  seemed  sadly  out  of  place. 

The  houses  too  were  different  in  this  locality.  Easter 
flowers  bloomed  iu  the  windows  between  handsome  cur- 
tains, and  there  were  not  so  many  white  shutters  and  mar- 
ble steps — in  fact,  with  a  street  band  playing  on  the  corner 
and  the  merry  peal  of  chimes  that  rang  from  a  neighboring 
steeple  it  seemed  quite  a  gay  little  town,  thought  Neal, 
with  condescension. 

His  cousin  pointed  out  the  sights  as  they  walked. 


loin 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"There  arc  the  public-  buildings,"  lie  said,  "  and  beyond 

is  the  great  stun-  ut'  Jnhn  Waiia kcr.      This  is  Chestnut 

Street, , 'iiid  yonder  is  tlie  Mint.  Thee  will  go  there  and  to 
Independence  Hall  while  thee  is  here,  and  to  Oirard  College, 
that  is.  it'  ther  has  a  proper  amount  of  public  spirit,  as  I 
liope  to  be  the  case." 

Xeal  humbly  acquiesced,  and  then  remarked  upon  the 
distance  of  his  cousin's  place  of  business  from  his  house. 

"Do  yon  always  walk  ?"  he  asked. 

"Always.  I  have  found  that  exercise  is  good,  and  the 
car  fare  worth  saving.  'A  penny  saved  is  a  penny  gained,' 
I  have  made  my  motto  through  life,  and  for  that  reason  I 
have  never  known  want.  I  hope  thee  is  neither  extrava- 
gant nor  la/y  .'" 

This  with  a  keen,  shrewd,  not  unkindly  glance  from  be- 
neath the  level  gray  eyebrows. 

Neal  colored  and  hoped  lie  was  not,  knowing  all  the 
i  line  that  these  were  two  serious  faults  of  his. 

They  had  passed  through  the  fashionable-  part  of  tin- 
city,  and  were  walking  down  a  narrow,  low-built  street. 
In  the  distance  was  a  huge  space  rilled  with  great  piles  of 
boards  that  came  far  up  above  the  high  fence  which  sur- 
rounded the  whole  square. 

"This  is  my  ot'tiec,"  said  Mr.  Carpenter,  as  he  opened  tin- 
door  of  a  small  low  building  in  tin-  corner  of  the  great 
\  ai'd.  "I  am  in  the  In  in  her  business." 

It  was  some  time  before  he  could  say  any  more  to  his 
cousin.  There  were  letters  to  be  opened,  his  head  clerk  to 
be  interviewed,  men  to  be  directed. 

Neal  sat  at,  a  window  that  looked  out  on  the  yard,  and 
watched  some,  men  that  were  loading  a  huge  dray.  There 
wen-  boards,  boards,  boards  everywhere.  How  tired  he 
should  get  of  lumber  if  he  had  to  stay  here!  He  hoped 
that  his  business,  whatever  it  might,  prove  to  be,  would  be 
more  exciting  and  more  in  the  heart  of  things  than  this  re- 
mote lumber-yard.  He  thought  from  what,  he  had  heard 
that  he  would  like  to  be  a  stock-broker,  as  long  as  lie  was 
barred  out  of  the  professions  by  not  going  through  col- 
lege. 

He  was  just  imagining  himself  on  'Change,  in  the  midst 
of  an  eager  crowd  of  other  successful  brokers,  a  panic  im- 
minent, and  he  alone  cool  and  self- possessed,  when  his 
cousin's  voice  rudely  interrupted  his  reverie.  It  sounded 
calmer  than  ever  in  contrast  to  Neal's  day-dream. 

"Cousin, if  thee  will  come  into  my  private  office  I  will 
listen  to  thee  for  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes." 

Neal  obeyed,  but  found  it  difficult  to  begin  his  story.  It 
is  a  very  hard  thing  to  tell  a  man  that  you  are  suspected 
of  being  a  thief. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  you  know,"  he  began,  rather 
haltingly,  "that  I — that — in  fact,  I've  left  Hester  for  good 
and  all.  You  are  my  guardian,  so  you  must  know  all  about 
that  conf — that  abom — that — er — well,  that  will  of  my 
grandmother's.  Hester  didn't  give  me  a  large  enough  al- 
lowance— at  least,  I  didn't  think  it  was  enough — and  I  got 
into  debt  at  school.  It  was  not  very  much  of  a  de.bt  for  a 
fellow  with  such  a  rich  sister." 

He  paused,  rather  taken  aback  by  the  quick  glance  that 
was  shot  at  him  from  the  mild  blue  eyes  of  his  Quaker 
cousin. 

"  What  does  thee  call  '  not  much '  f" 

"A  hundred  dollars.  I  knew  they  would  think  it  a  lot, 
so  I  only  told  Hessie,  and  John  fifty,  and  she  gave  it  to  me. 
Afterwards  the  fellow  I  owed  it  to  came  down  on  me  for 
the  rest,  and  wrote  to  John,  Hessie's  husband.  In  the, 
mean  time  I  had  got  hold  of  some  money  in  a  perfectly  fttir, 
liiiiiiirnlili:  way,  and  sent  it  to  the  fellow,  and  be  wrote  again 
to  John  Franklin  and  said  I  had  paid  up.  Then,  .just  be- 
cause a  present  one  of  the  Franklin  children  expected 
at  that  time  didn't  come,  they  accused  me  of  taking  it. 
They  had  no  earthly  reason  for  supposing  it  except  that  I 
paid  fifty  dollars  in  gold  for  the,  money-order  I  sent, and 
the  child's  present  was  lit'ty  dollars  in  gold." 

"And  where-  did  thee  get  the  money?" 

The  question  came  so  quietly  and  naturally  that  Neal 
was  taken  unawares,  and  answered  before  he  thought. 

"Cynthia  Franklin  lent  it  to  me.  I  hated  to  borrow  of 
a  girl,  and  I  made  her  promise  not  to  tell;  afterwards  I  was 


glad  I  had.  If  they  choose  to  suspect  me.  I'm  not  going  t<> 
lower  myself  by  explaining.  And  I  will  ask  you,  as  a  par- 
ticular favor,  Cousin  William,  not  to  tell  any  one.  I  didn't. 
mean  to  mention  it." 

His  cousin  merely  bowed,  and  asked  him  to  continue. 

"  Well,  there's  not  much  more,  except  that  I  was  sus- 
pended from  school  before  that  for  a  scrape  1  wasn't  in, 
and  it  put  everybody  against  me,  and  now  I  want  to  get 
something  to  do.  I  am  going  to  support  myself,  and  I 
thought  I'd  come  to  you,  as  you're  my  guardian  ami  a 
cousin,  and  perhaps  yon  would  help  me." 

"Did  thee  know  that  thy  brother-in-law,  John  Franklin, 
was  here  within  a  few  days?" 

Xeal  sprang  to  his  feel. 

"He  was!  Then  he.  told  yon  all  this.  I  might  have 
known  it!" 

"Thee  may  as  well  remain  calm,  Neal.  Thee  will  gain 
nothing  in  this  world  by  giving  \  cut  to  undue  excitement . 
John  Franklin  told  me  nothing,  except,  that  thee  had  left 
his  home,  and  he  had  supposed  thee  was  with  me.  He  did 
not  tell  me  of  the  gold,  but  he  did  say  he  feared  thee  was 
extravagant,  in  which  I  agreed  with  him.  Thee  has  no- 
thing to  find  fault  with  in  what  he  said." 

Neal  felt,  rather  ashamed  of  himself.  After  all.  it  had 
been  generous  in  his  brother-in-law  not  to  prejudice  his 
guardian  against  him. 

"And  now  what  does  thee  wish  to  do?"  asked  the  old 
man,  as  he  looked  at  his  large  gold-faced  watch. 

"I  want  to  get  some  work,"  replied  Neal. 

"Is  thee  willing  to  take  anything  thee  can  get?" 

"  Yes,  almost  anything,"  with  a  hasty  glance  at  the  piles 
of  lumber  without. 

"I>oes  thee  know  that  times  are  hard. and  it  is  almost 
impossible,  for  even  young  men  of  experience  to  get  a  situ- 
ation, while  thee  is  but  a  boy?" 

"  Ye-es.      I  suppose  so." 

"Thee  need  not  expect  much  salary." 

"No, only  enough  to  live  on.  I'm  going  to  be  very 
economical." 

William  Carpenter  smiled,  and  looked  at  the  boy  kindly. 
He  was  silent  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  he  said  : 

"Neal,  as  thee  is  my  ward  and  also  my  cousin,!  am  w-ill- 
ing  to  make  a  place  for  thee  here.  We  can  give  thee  but 
a  small  stipend,  but  it,  is  better  than  nothing  for  one  who 
is  anxious  for  work,  as  thee  says  thee  is.  Thee  will  not 
have  board  and  lodging  to  pay  for,  however,  as  thee  can 
make  thy  home  with  Rachel  and  myself.  Our  boy,  had  he 
lived,  would  have  been  about  thy  age." 

This  was  said  calmly,  with  no  suspicion  of  emotion.  It 
was  simply  the  statement  of  a  fact. 

"Oh,  thank  yon.  cousin  William,  you  are  very  kind! 
But — do  you  think  I  could  ever  learn  the  lumber  business? 
It — it  seems  so — well,  I  don't  exactly  see  what  there  is  to 
do." 

"  Thee  is  too  hasty,  by  far.  Thee  could  not  be  expected 
to  know  the  business  before  thee  has  set  foot  in  the  yard. 
But  thee  must  learu  first  that  it  is  well  to  make  the  most 
of  every  opportunity  that  comes  to  hand.  Will  thee,  or 
will  thee  not,  come  into  my  home  and  my  employ?  It  is 
the  best  I  can  do  for  thee." 

And  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  and  one  wild  regret 
for  the  lost  pleasures  of  the  stock  r:\ehangc,  Xeal  agreed 
to  do  it- 
It  was  thus  he  began  his  business  life. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


IT  is  enjoyable  to  read  a  good  storj  of  the  biter  being 
bitten,  and  the  following  one  may  not  be  a  in  Us  : 

A  class  of  st  inlet  its,  holding  a  grudge  against  one  of  I  ho 
professors,  tied  a  live  goose  to  his  chair.  I'pon  enteiing 
the  room  the  professor  saw  the  goose,  and  calmly  walking 
up  to  the  desk,  addressed  the  class  as  follows: 

"  Gentlemen,  as  yon  have  succeeded  in  git  ting  an  in- 
structor so  much  belter  i|iialiiied  to  direci  the  bent  of 
your  ideas,  I  beg  you  will  pardon  me  for  resigning  the 
chair." 


1011 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


D 

"Yonstilution 


BY   ROW  AN   STEVENS. 
is  tin-  iiilr  thai  trax  told  to  me 
-*-    Hi/  a  man  with  a   lurry  queue, 
U'lm  mil  n-illi  it  X]>I/-</IIIXH  in  his  hand, 

And  ;/ii:i-il  i/u  Ilic  it-liters  blue; 
His  hair  H'IIX   ir/iite,  lint  his  c.i/c  iras  liriijlit, 

And  xlruii/ht  irux  liix   undent  form, 
And  hix  liroii-n  old  face  liort'  many  a  trace 
Of  the  battle  and  the  storm. 

I. 
Ay,  she  was  a  ship !     She  showed  her  heels 

To  the  swiftest  of  them  all  ; 
She  weathered  many  a  raging  gale 

And  many  a  roaring  squall. 
And  he — our  Captain — of  all  the  men 

That  ever  sailed  the  sea, 
There  was  never  a  one  like  Isaac  Hull 

To  handle  a  ship,  said  we. 
It  was  in  one  pleasant  summer-time 

That  the  Constitution  lay 
A  cable's  length  from  an  English  ship 

In  the  bight  of  Lisbon  Bay. 
Between  that  British  crew  and  us 
The  looks  were  grim  and  glum, 
For  we  thought  of  the  war  a  few  years  back, 

And  hoped  for  a  war  to  come. 
The  officers,  though,  were  friendly  still; 

They'd  meet  some  day  in  war, 
And  they  knew  they'd  show  their  mettle  then 

As  they'd  shown  it  well  before. 
Yes,  even  the  Captains,  they  were  chums — 

Our  own  old  Do-aud-Dare 
And  Daeres  of  that  royal  ship, 

The  saucy   (Incrriere. 
And  many  and  many  a  time  I've  seen 

The  two  walk  down   the  quay 
With    their   yard-arms    locked   and    their   chapeans 

cocked, 

To  gaze  on  the  ships  at  sea. 
But  Daeres  turned  to  Hull  one  day 
And  said :  "  They'd  make  a  rare 

Aud  even  stand-up  single  tight, 
Those  two  ships  lying  there. 
Now  what  say  yon — it'  the   war    docs 

come, 

As  I   think  right  well  it  may. 
And  the  Constitution   and  (Inerriere 

Should  meet  in  single  fray, 
I'll  bet  yon  a  hundred  pounds  or  .so — 

A  thousand,  if  you  like — 
The  Constitution  that  blessed  day 

Will  run  or  sink  or  strike." 
But  Hull  said:  "I  am  too  poor  a  man 

To  bet  a  sum  like   that, 
ILF.  WE  BAILED.     Yet  just    for   the   sake    of  the    stand 

you  take 

I'll  wager,  say,  a  hat." 
The  Captains  laughed  as  the  bet  was  made, 

And  the  ships  soon  sailed  away 
From  their  peaceful,  pleasant  anchorage 
lu  the  bight  of  Lisbon  Bav. 


The  trouble  came,  as  we   knew  it  would, 
Aiul  a  joyous  crew  were  we 


When   we  said  good-by  to  the  old  home  port 

And  weighed  for  a  cruise  at  sea, 
For  the  Press  Gang  and  the  Search  Eight 

We  had  vowed  to  bear  no  more, 
And  we  bade  farewell  to  parley, 

And  welcome  we  bade  to  war. 
Along  the  grim  New  England  coast 

For  many  a  mile  we  sailed, 
Aud  ever  a  sharp  lookout  we  kept, 

But  nevrr  a  ship  we  hailed, 
Till  five  days  out,  in  the  first  dog-watch, 

We  sighted  a  fleet  of  four 
Big  fighting  ships  that  made  quick  sail, 

And  down  upon  us  bore. 
From  their  lofty  yards  and  bending  masts 

The  bellying  canvas  blew, 
And  at  the  mizzen-peak  of  each 

The  English  ensign  flew. 
"We  can't  tight  too  many  odds,"  said  Hull, 

"  But  ere  the  day  be  done 
We'll  show  how  a  well-manned  Yankee  ship 

Can  lift  up  her  heels  and  run." 
Then  ;ve  called  all  hands 
and  we  made  all  sail, 

And  slowly  drew  away 
From  the  English  vessels 
that  followed  us 

So  sure  of  an  easy  prey. 
But  the  winds 

were      light 

and      varia- 
ble, 
Calm  fell  and 

all       moved 

slow, 

The       crowd- 
ed boats  of 

the  English 

fleet 
Took  the 

leading  ship 

in  tow. 
I  stood  by  the 

wheel    with 

a  glass  and 

saw 

That   ship  come  creeping  on, 
And  my  heart   was  in   my  throat  awhile, 

For  I  thought  that  we  were  gone. 
And  the  leading  ship  full  well  I  knew, 

The  saucy   Guerrirrc, 
And  Daeres  stood  in  her  port  fore  chains 

With  a  confident,  eager  air. 
And  I  felt  despair  for  our  gallant  crew, 

And  woe  for  our  gallant  bark, 
When  a  long  cry  came  from  the  leadsman's  lip — 

"Thirty  fathom,  by  the  mark!" 
Then  a  smile  there  came  to  the  Captain's  face, 

And  a  light  to  the  Captain's  eye, 
Aud  lie  sent  his  kedges  out  ahead, 

Aud  we  made  the  capstan  fly  ; 
We  wet  the  sails  down,  fore  and  aft, 

We  jumped  at  the  bo's'n's  call, 
We  pumped  out  water  for  lightness' sake. 

And  stood  by  davit  and  fall ; 
As  every  little  catspaw  came 

We  worked  for  the  weather-gage, 
And  we  kept  those  fellows  alee,  astern, 

And  in  an  awful  rage. 
For  three  long  days  and  three  long  nights 

They  held  us  well,  and  then 
A  squall  came  up  iu  a  thunder-cloud. 

And  we  fooled  those  Englishmen. 
For  they,  as  its  ominous  frown  they  saw, 

Stripped  down  to  the  bare,  bare  mast. 
While  we  held  on  with  our  topsails  full 

To  the  teeth  of  the  rising  blast  : 
And.  as  it,  struck  us,  we  shortened  sail 


AND   WE   KEPT   THOSE   Ff.I.T.OH'S   AI.EK,   ASTEKX 


1013 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


H|.:B    DEOKb    AIUC    EKD    WITH    1IEF.   GALLANT   DEAD. 

At  tlie  Captain's  quick  command, 
But  as  soon  as  the  full  of  its  weight  we  felt 

We  gave  her  all  she'd  stand ; 
Anil  merrily,  merrily  off  we  run, 

And  ere  the  day  was  done 
We  had  left  them  all  clean  out  of  sight 

In  the  wake,  of  the  setting  sun. 
And  Hull  looked  'round   the  quarter-deck, 

Aud  forward  he  looked,  and  aft, 
And  he  looked  astern  at  the  blank  blue  sea, 

And  he  looked  at  the  sky — and  laughed. 


And  on   through  the  summer  seas  we  bore, 

Until  oft'  stern  Cape  Clear 
Our  ship  fell   in   with   a  sloop-o'-war, 

A  Yankee  privateer. 
We  hailed  for  news,  and  the  sloop  hove  to, 

And  off  her  skipper  came 
And  boarded  us  in  a  leaky  yawl, 

With  his  wrathful  check  aflame; 
For  "Down  to  the  south'ard  he'd   been   chased 

By  a   powerful  English  ship 
That  was  just  too  slow   for  his  flying  heels, 

And  just  too  big  to  whip." 
We  sent  him  back   with  a  cheerful  heart, 

And  down  to  the  south  we  swept, 
And  a  sharp  lookout  o'er  the  vacant  sea 

Alow  and  aloft  we  kept. 

One  August  evening  we  bowled  along 

In   a  fresh  nor'wester  breeze, 
The  rigging  snug  as  along  we  swuug, 

Aud  rough   were  the  tumbling  seas. 
And  I  was  sitting  with  pipe  in   hand 

Enjoying  my  watch  below, 
AVhen  the  mast-head   lookout  hailed  the  deck 

With  a  loud  and  long,  "  Sail,  ho!" 
"Now,  where  away  ?"  the  Captain   cried, 

And  into  the  shrouds  sprang  we 
To  gaze  at  a  speck  in  the  distance  dim, 

Clear  white  on  the  blue,  blue  sea. 
She  stood  along  under  easy  sail, 

She  made  us  out   and  tacked, 
She  waited  there  with  her  lieadsails  full, 

Aud  her   big  maintopsail   backed. 

We  picked  her  up  hand  over  hand, 

We  made  her  colors  out — 
That  proud  St.  George's  Cross  we  knew. 

And  we  longed  for  the  coming  bout. 
And  Hull  sang  out.  "To  quarters,  men, 

For  the  fos  we  seek  is  there, 
By  the  look  of  her  lines  and  the  cut  of  her  jilj 

I  know  the    Hm-rrii-n- .'" 
We  shortened  sail  and  for  action  cleared, 

The  flags  to  the  breeze  we  threw, 
Aud  at  each  masthead  and  the  uiizzen-peak 

The  Yankee  colors  flew. 
Up  iu  the  tops  the  topmen   lay 

With  musket  and  grenade, 


But  down   in   the  gloomy   holds  below 

The  battle-lanterns  played. 
Stripped  to  the  waist  each  sailor  stood, 

His  cutlass  in  his  hand, 
His  long  dirk  loosened  in   its  sheath, 

His  feet    in   the  scattered  sand; 
The  gunners  stood  beside  the  gnus, 

Their  matches  all  aglow, 
With   their  ears  bent   back  to  the  quarter-deck, 

And  their  eyes  upou   the  foe. 

As  onward  to  the   <iiu-rri!-rv 

The    (.'oiixtHiitiun  swept, 
lietweeii   the   lines  of  brawny  tars 

Our  tirst  Lieutenant  stepped  : 
"  To  save  you  all  from  the  press,  my  lads, 

For  that  we  make  the  war, 
And  each  must  fight  for  the  flag  to-day 

As  he  never  fought  before." 
Theu  up  spoke  one  of  the  gunner's  mates, 

A  grim  old  man  was  lie. 
Who'd  met  the  French  and  the  Algeriues 

Iu  many  a  fight  at  sea, 
Whose  cheek  was  rough  with  a  hundred  storms, 

Aud  brown   with  a  hundred  suns: 
"If  the  quarter-deck  will  mind  the  flag, 

Why,  we  will  mind  the  guns." 

Oh,  sweet  to  see  was  the  English  ship, 

As  up  in  the  wind   she  came, 
With  her  riggiug  silhouetted  out 

Against  the  skies  aflame. 
Sudden  she  yawed,  and  from  her  bows 

A  puff  of  smoke  there  blew, 
And,  hurrying  over  their  lofty  arch, 

The  plunging  missiles  flew, 
And  each  of  us  gripped  his  cutlass  tight, 

And  each   his  muscles  set, 
And  each  looked  hard  at,  the  long  bow-gnus, 

But  the  Captain  said,  "Not  yet." 

Closer  and  closer  drew  the  foe, 

Her  shot  flew  thick  aud  fast, 
And,  singing  around  our  heads,  a  storm 

Of  musket -bullets  passed. 
We  drew  well  up  on  her  weather-beam, 

And  the  roar  of  her  guns  rose  higher, 
And  we  saw   her  gunner's  matches  gleam, 

And  the  Captain  shouted,  "  Fire!" 
With  flash  on  flash,  with  a  thunder  crash, 

Rang  out  our  red  broadside, 
Aud  the  splinters  broke  from  her  sides  of  oak, 

And  scattered  far  and  wide. 
The  smoke  rose  up  to  the  high  dim  trucks, 

As  the  battle  fury  spread, 
But  the  men  stood  true,  and  the  flags  still  flew, 

In  the  mist  at  each  masthead. 
Deadly  aud  fierce  was  the  fire  we  poured 

Upon  our  sturdy  foe, 
And  a  cheer  we  roared  as  by  the  board 

We  saw  her  mizzen  go. 
Theu  around  iu  the  dying  breeze  she  swung, 


TUIt    FIGUT   16    DUNE   AND   THE   DAY   IS   WON. 


1013 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


And  her  lion-sprit  Icunneil  o'erhead, 
And  fouled  in  our  mizzen  shrouds  she  hung. 

And   tin-   battle,  lightning  spread; 
\Ve   heard   the   splinters  ily  below, 

Where  her  :W-puundcrs  played, 
And  the  cabin  was  filled  with  smoke  and  flame 

From  her  furious  cannonade. 
Then,  long  dirk  ready  and  cutlass  keen. 

Up,  up  to  her  side   \ve  start, 
But  a  breeze  blows  over  the  darkening   sea 

And  swings  the  ships   apart; 
But  readily   'round   in   the   wind   we  go. 

And  steadily  on    we  fall. 
With  grape  and  shrapnel  and  solid  shut, 

Anil   pattering  mnsket-liall. 
And  over  her  bows  in   the  dusk  we  draw, 

While,  our   terrible   broadsides  peal, 
And  her  lingering  rolls  the  gaping   holes 

In   her  shattered  hull  reveal. 
Her  sides  we  rend,  our  shot.  x\  e  send 

Through   shroud   and  spar  and  stay, 
Till  her  main   and  fore,  with  a  crashing  roar 

Plunge  down   to  the  spouting  spray. 

The  fight   is  done  and   the  day  is  won, 

For  a  burning  wreck   is  she, 
But   her  decks  are  red  with  her  gallant  dead, 

And  never  a  Hiccr  cheer  we. 
And  over  our  side  comes  Dacres  then, 

Our  brave  but  conquered  foe  ; 
He  passes  on  by  the  silent  men, 

And  his  head  is  hanging  low. 
He  gains  the  deck,  and  he  holds  to   Hull 

The  hilt  of  his  gallant   brand, 
But  the  Captain  waves  the  sword  aside 

And   takes  him    by  the  hand: 
"The  true,  true  sword  of  a  true,  true  man 

Shall  stay  his  own  for  ay, 
But  a  hat  I'll  take  when  the  land  we  make, 

For  the  bet  at  Lisbon  Bay." 

And  up  in  tlii,  quiet  sky  the  stars 

Came  twinkling  one  by  one, 
And  over  the  quiet  sea  the  moon 

In   silver  sweetness  shone. 
Our  sails  were  white  in  the  peaceful  light 

As  westward  did  we  bear, 
And  a  fiery  shine  on  the  dim  sea-line 

Was  the  last  of  the   (ini-ri-it-ri-. 
And  here's  to  the  skipper! — of  all  the  men 

That  ever  sailed  the  sea 
There  was  never  a  one  like  Isaac  Hull 

To  handle  a  ship,  said  we. 

Anil  that  is  the  talc  Unit  teas  toJd  to  me 
I>y  Ilif  mini   ii'itli    tin    iiin'ij  qiii'iti', 

Will*     Kilt       ll'it/l      (I      K/lll-l/lllXH      ill      llix      llllllll, 

.liul  i/u:ril  on   I  hi'  ii-itlirx   him  : 
His  liuir  ii'iix   icliiti,  lull  I'i"  i'il'    inix  bright, 

^lllll   sll'llii/lll    WllH    his    Hllrilllt  fnrill. 
Anil   hi*    lii, 'il  n    nlil   I'nn    luii'i     nliiliil    it    /fin; 
(If   till'    hlltllr    inn!    till'    . 


TODDLETUMS  HAS   A   DRKAM 


OH,  papa, 
hear  all 


[>a,  I  had  a  bully  dream  last  night.  Want  to 
i r  about  it?" 

"Why,  j'es,  Toddletums.     Let's  hear  what  it  was." 

"Dreamt  I  was  dead,  and  playing  baseball  among  the 
stars  " 

"  Well,  Toddletums,  I  am  sorry  to  hear  you  speak  of  that 
as  a  '  bully  dream.'  " 

"  But  it  was.  papa.  I  was  no  more  than  dead  when  I  got 
among  a  lot  of  spirits,  big  fellows  all  dressed  in  white,  and 
they  knowed  right  away 'bout  my  being  the  best  catcher 
on  the  K'angtott-n  nine,  so  the  iirst  thing  they  said  was. 
•Hurray!  here's  our  great  catcher  at  last,' and  before  I 
knew  it  I  was  catching  back  of  one  of  those  big  white  id- 
lows,  and,  what  do  you  think,  he  was  using  the  tail  of  a 


comet  for  a  bat.  'Way  off  in  the  distance  (say,  they  have 
awful  big  diamonds  up  there)  was  another  fellow  pitch- 
ing, and  all  he  did  was  to  pluck  one  of  the  stars  out  of  the 
Milky  Way  and  throw  it  at  me  for  a  baseball.  Say,  papa, 
you've  seen  those  falling  stars?  Well,  they  say  they're 
meteors.  Now  that's  nonsense, 'cause  they're  the  balls  the 
catchers  up  there  misses. 

"By-and-by  our  side  (that's  the  Comets,  you  know)  got 
in.  and  the  score  stood  16  to  0  in  favor  of  the  Milky  Ways. 
By-and-by  it  was  my  turn  at  the  bat,  and  I  felt  kind  of 
afraid,  'cause  the  comet's  tail  looked  awful  bright,  but  I 
seized  it  and  swung  it  round  two  or  three  times,  and  it 
didn't  burn  a  bit.  '  One  ball!'  cried  the  umpire  as  the 
pitcher  sent  a  star  singing  past  me  (and  it  wasn't  fair, 
either. 'cause  they  pitched  it  when  I  was  trying  the  bat). 
I  braced  myself  Tor  the  next  one,  and  then  that  pitcher 
thought  he'd  fool  me.  Making  out  to  snatch  a  ball  from 
the  Milky  Way,  be  turned  around,  and,  reaching 'way  out, 
what  do  you  think  he  did?  Why,  he  grabbed  our  woi  Id. 
that  we're  living  on,  and  threw  it  at  me  with  all  his  might. 
Well,  they  couldn't  knock  out  the  Rangtowu  catcher  that 
way.  tor  I  just  swung  the  bat  around. and  hi t  t he  old  world 
an  awful  crack.  I  bursted  that  comet  bat  all  to  pieces  and 
hit  a  foul.  I  looked  up,  aud  there  was  the  world  a-comin' 
right  down  into  my  hands.  It  was  a  tine  chance,  and  I 
couldn't  let  it  pass,  and  I  just  caught  it. 

"All  those  fellows  began  yelling  •  foul!'  and  then  I  woke 
up.  And,  papa,  what  do  you  think?  I  had  fallen  out  of 
bed,  but  I  had  a  bully  time,  though." 


PUDDING 
STICK        ^ 

irS,.  .JL^ii,-r*«k;s.  SaaBi 


This  Department  is  conducted  in  the  interest  of  Girls  anil  Young  Women,  and  the  Editor  will 
be  pleased  to  answer  any  question  on  the  subject  so  far  as  possible.  Correspondents  should 
address  Editor. 

I~\O  write  a  Pudding  Stick  about  table  manners."  Why. 

I  /  of  course,  dear  Molly,  I  will,  if  you  wish  it,  especial- 
ly as  you  say  you  speak  forthe  girls  of  your  Round  Table 
Chapter.  I  wish  you  would  imitate  Molly,  and  often  sug- 
gest the  topics  you  like  best  —  you  young  people  of  the 
Round  Table  Order. 

There  is  nothing  very  puzzling  about  Uie  etiquette  of  the 
table.  One  who  knows  how  to  behave  elsewhere  knows 
how  to  behave  at  the  table.  The  chief  thing  to  be  remem- 
bered is  that  good  manners  everywhere  rest  on  a  strong 
foundation  of  common-sense  and  kind  feeling,  and  that  no- 
body is  clumsy  or  awkward  who  is  free  from  self-conscious- 
ness. If  one  is  thinking  of  herself  and  of  the  sort  of  im- 
pression she  is  making,  she  will  be  likely  to  blunder.  You 
must  dismiss  yourself  from  your  mind. 

"BUT  what  bothers  me,"  says  Ruth,  "is  the  fact  that 
there  is  no  fixed  rule  about  what  to  do,  and  what  not  to  do. 
Which  is  right,  to  take  my  soup-plate  from  the  waitress,  or 
to  let  her  take  my  empty  plate  and  set  the  tilled  plate  in 
its  place  herself?  And  in  some  houses  you  are  helped  to 
salad,  and  in  others  yon  have  to  help  yourself  when  it  is 
handed  to  you.  Is  it  rude  to  ask  for  a  second  helping  of 
something  you  like?  or,  when  you  decline  a  thing,  is  it 
proper  to  explain  1hat  yon  like  it,  but  it  does  not  agree 
with  \  on  .'" 

As  to  the  last  of  these  little  worries,  my  dear  child,  never 
do  ih.-n.  Never  tell  your  hostess  or  your  friends  that 
lobster  gives  you  cramps,  and  stuffed  olives  produce  heart- 
burn, and  pastry  causes  dyspepsia.  It  is  in  the  worst  taste 
imaginable  to  speak  of  these  effects,  and  wholly  needless. 
You  may  always  pass  over  or  decline  a  dish  of  which  yon 
are  not  desirous  of  partaking.  It  is  usually  right  to  ask  for 
a  second  helping  of  some  viand  which  pleases  you,  and 
your  hostess  will  consider  herself  complimented  by  your 
doing  this;  but  the  exception  is,  when  the  meal  is  a  formal 


1014 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


one  of  numerous  courses,  and  when  you  are  doing  so  would 
retard  the  orderly  progress  of  the  meal.  In  doubt  about 
any  little  detail,  look  to  your  hostess  and  follow  her  ex- 
ample. The  waitress  is  trained  to  certain  ways,  and  she 
will  do  as  she  is  accustomed  to;  you  have  therefore  no  re- 
sponsibility. 

IN  talking  at  the  table,  if  the  company  is  large,  you 
will  usually  converse  more  with  your  neighbor  thau  with 
the  circle  as  a  whole.  But  at  home  and  in  the  family,  or 
at  the  house  of  an  intimate  friend,  you  must  do  your  share 
of  the  entertainment.  Save  up  the  bright  little  story  and 
the  witty  speech,  the  funny  sayings  of  a  child,  the  scrap  of 
news  in  your  Aunt  Mary's  last  letter,  and  wheu  a  good  op- 
portunity otters,  add  your  mite  to  the  general  fund  of 
amusement. 

TIIEKB  are  dear  old  gentlemen  —  and  old  ladies  too  —  who 
have  favorite  stories  which  they  are  rather  fond  of  telling. 
People  iu  their  own  families,  or  among  their  very  intimate 
acquaintances,  hear  these  stories  more  than  once  —  indeed, 
they  sometimes  hear  them  till  they  become  very  familiar. 
Good  manners  forbid  any  showing  of  this,  any  look  of  im- 
patience or  appearance  of  boredom  ou  the  part  of  the 
listener.  The  really  well-bred  woman  or  girl  listens  to  the 
thrice-told  tale,  the  well-worn  anecdote,  says  a  pleasant 
word,  smiles,  forgets  that  she  has  heard  it  before,  and  does 
not  allow  the  dear  mruiilciir  to  fancy  that  the  story  is  be- 
ing brought  out  too  often.  Good  manners  at  the  table  are 
inflexible  on  this  poiut.  You  must  appear  pleased.  You 
must  give  pleasure  to  others.  You  must  make  up  your 
mind  to  receive  gratification  by  imparting  it. 

ONCE  in  a  while  an  accident  happens  at  a  meal.  A  cup 
is  overturned;  some  unhappy  person  swallows  "  the  wrong 
way  "  ;  somebody  makes  a  mistake.  Look  at  your  plate  at 
such  a  moment,  and  nowhere  else,  unless  you  can  sufficient- 
ly control  your  face  and  appear  entirely  unconscious  that 
anything  has  occurred  out  of  the  usual  routine.  Take  no 
notice,  and  go  ou  with  the  conversation,  and  in  a  second 
the  incident  will  have  been  forgotten  by  every  one. 


/ 


ON    BOAED    THE    ARK. 

BY   ALBERT  LEE. 
CHAPTER    X. 

TOMMY  stared  for  some  minutes  at  the  antics  of  the 
Ibexes,  and  then  turned  to  the  ex-Pirate. 

"How  very  odd!"  he  remarked. 

"Very,"  assented  the  other.  "Aren't  you  beginning  to 
feel  sort  of  queer?" 

"I  don't  notice  any  motion  at  all,"  replied  Tommy. 

"  I  don't  mean  that,"  said  the  ex-Pirate,  looking  reproach- 
fully at  the  little  boy.  "  But,  personally,  I  am  beginning 
to  become  affected  by  all  these  animals.  I  almost  feel  as 
though  I  could  become  a  second  Abon-Ben-Diu." 

"A  second  Abon-Ben-Diu  ?" 

"Yes,"  continued  the  ex-Pirate,  scarcely  noticing  the  in- 
terruption. "But  I  hardly  think  it  would  pay.  I  doubt 
if  there  are  any  other  craft  hereabouts." 

"What  are  yon  mumbling  about,  anyway?"  asked 
Tommy. 

"I  was  not  mumbling  at  all.  I  was  thinking  of  Abou- 
Beu-Diu.  Tin •)•<•  was  a  pirate  for  you!" 

"I  never  heard  of  Abou-Beu-Diu,"  said  Tommy.  "I've 
read  about  Captain  Kidd  and  theDey  of  Algiers,  and  lots 
of  others — but  that's  all." 

"Well,  it'  you  had  allowed  me  to  read  the  first  sixteen 
chapters  of  my  autobiography,"  exclaimed  the  ex-Pirate, 
becoming  ,somr\\hat  exciled.  as  he  always  did  when  the 
subject  of  his  autobiography  came  up,  "you  would  have 


known  all  about  Abon-Beu-Din  by  this  time.      He  was  a 
Hindoo." 

"But  can't  you  tell  me  about  him  now,  just  as  well?" 
pleaded  the  little  boy,  anxious  to  get  another  pirate  story. 

"I  might,"  answered  the  ex -Pirate,  meditatively.  "I 
might.  It  is  a  favorite  story  of  mine,  but  I  don't  think 
this  is  very  good  company  to  tell  it  in." 

"Why  is  not  it?" 

But  before  the  ex-Pirate  could  answer,  the  Lion  arose 
and  roared  so  fiercely  that  the  rafters  shook,  and  mauy  of 
the  birds  fell  from  their  perches. 

"What  does  this  mean  ?"  he  growled.  "What  does  all 
this  skylarking  signify?" 

"I'm  not  doing  anything,"  put  in  the  Skylark. 

"  Shut  up,"  continued  the  Lion,  even  more  fiercely.  "This 
banquet  has  not  been  adjourned  yet.  Why  are  so  many 
of  yon  standing  and  running  about  ?  Everybody  sit  down  ! 
I  want  you  to  understand  that  this  is  a  continuous  per- 
formance— booked  for  forty  days  and  forty  nights — and 
if  some  one  does  not  perform  pretty  soou,  I'll  take  a  hand 
in  the  entertainment  myself!" 

Everybody  knew  what  that  meant.  There  was  only  one 
kind  of  entertainment  that  the  Lion  knew  anything  about, 
and  that  was  eating.  He  was  very  good  at  that,  and  he 
cast  his  eyes  about  on  the  smaller  animals  gathered  at  the 
board.  But  the  warning  was  sufficient;  there  was  a  grand 
rush  for  seats  again,  and  a  general  inclination  to  be  enter- 
taining was  displayed  by  all.  Tommy  and  his  companions 
got  their  old  places,  but  the  Gopher  was  so  frightened  that 
he  retained  his  seat  with  difficulty,  and  he  trembled  so 
that  he  was  unable  to  keep  his  sun-bouuet  on  straight. 

In  the  mean  time  the  Lion  was  scowling  and  waiting  for 
some  one  to  volunteer.  His  eyes  fell  ou  the  shaking  Go- 
pher, and  he  said,  grimly, 

"Don't  you  know  another  joke?" 

The  poor  little  animal  almost  fainted  with  fright,  and 
for  lack  of  a  better  inspiration  he  pointed  at  the  ex-Pirate 
and  gasped, 

"He  knows  lots  of  things!" 

And  so  the  King  of  Beasts,  who  was  rapidly  losing  pa- 
tience, glared  at  the  ex-Pirate  and  roared, 

"Do  something!" 

The  ex-Pirate  hesitated;  but  Tommy,  who  was  not  feel- 
ing at  all  comfortable,  whispered  : 

"  Give  them  Abou-Beu-Din  !" 

"That's  a  pretty  risky  thing  to  do,"  answered  his  neigh- 
bor; "  but  I  guess  I  shall  have  to.  I  can't  think  of  any- 
thing else."  And  so  he  arose  in  his  customary  way,  and 
bowing  to  all,  announced  that  he  would  recite  another 
selection  from  his  autobiography  entitled, 

THE  BALLAD  OF  ABOU-BEN-DIN. 

Oh.  there's  many  a  tale  that  I  like  to  tell, 

And  many  a  yarn  to  spin, 
But  there's  none  1  loi'c  one-half  so  viell 

As  the  story  of  Abou- Beit-Din. 

For  Abou-Ben-Din  was  a  terrible  man, 

A  blood-thirsty  wretch  through  and  through; 

A  pirate  on  quite  an  original  plan, 
And  he  captained  a  terrible  crew. 

Not  a  man  did  he  have  on  his  swift-sailing  craft, 

But  a  hundred  ami  ten  wild  bca-t-, 
That  snarled  on  the  deck  while  Abou  stood  aft, 

And  steered  them  toward  movable  feasts. 

For  all  day  the  brutes,  with  eyes  opened  wide, 

Would  eagerly  watch  for  a  sail, 
And  as  soon  as  their  vessel  was  brought  alongside 

They  would  swarm  like  rats  o'er  the  rail. 

Then  after  the  lions  and  tigers  had  dined, 

Old  Abou  would  visit  the  ship, 
To  collect  all  the  booty  ami  goods  lie  could  find 

Then  drive  his  beasts  back   with  a   whip. 

Thus  it  soon  came  to  pass  that  the  sailors  were   few 

Who  would   sail  in  the  India  seas, 
Where  Abou-Ben-Din  and  his  man-eating  cretv 

Were  eager  ami  ready  to  seize. 


1015 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


THE    EX-PIKATE    JUMPED    UPON    THE    TABLE    AND    FIRED 


But  /  was  no  coward,  and  none  of  my  crew 

Hud  ever  been  known  to  show  fear  ; 
So  I  said,  "We  will  capture  this  nautical  Zoo; 

Toward   Abou-Ben-Din  let  us  steer !" 

The  men  all  agreed,  and  we  started  that  dav 

With  cheering  and  waving  of  caps; 
And  down  in  the  hold  I  had  hidden  away 

A  hundred  and  fifty  steel  traps. 

TlK'sc  were  brought  up  on  deck   as  soon  as  we  spied 

Old  AUm-Ben-Din  and  his  ship, 
And  were  set  and  all  covered  with  sawdust  to  hide 

The  teeth  that  were  ready  to  grip. 

Then  the  men  went  below  and  closed  down   the  hatch, 

While  I  clambered  up  on  the  mast, 
Where,  safe  from   the  lions,  'twas  easy  to   watch 

What  happened  from  first  to  the  last. 

Well,  the  pirate  approached.     He  came  alongside. 

And  the  beasts  all  scrambled  aboard  ; 
And  I  never  have  heard   such  cries  as  they  cried, 

Or  such  terrible  roars  as  they  roared. 

Each  lion  was  caught,  and  he  couldn't  get  free, 

Each  trap  held  an  animal    fast  ; 
And  the  way   that   they  struggled   was  fearful  to  see — 

And  /  saw  it  all  from  the  mast. 


But  Abou-Ben-Diu  merely  gazed  in  dismay, 
And  when  he  knew  what  had  occurred, 


He  plunged  in    the    sea,  and 

sank  straightaway, 
Without  ever   speaking    a 
word. 

Ay,  there's  many  a  tale  that 

I  like  to  'tel/, 

And  many  a  ynni   l<i  ^fin. 
But   t/nrt'x   nun:    I  love   one- 
lull  f  ,v»i   //'ill 

As  the  story  of  Abou-Ben- 
liin' 

There  was  a  dead  silence 
when  the  ex-Pirate  finish- 
ed his  recital,  and  Tommy 
noticed  that  the  lions  and 
tigers  were  shifting  about 
restlessly  in  their  chairs. 
He  turned  quickly  to  the 
Gopher,  and  said  in  low 
tones, 

"  They  don't  seem  to  like 
it." 

"  I'm  afraid  it  was  a 
trifle  personal,"  answered 
the  Gopher. 

"Perhaps  we  had  better 
retire,"  suggested  the  ex- 
Pirate,  prudently. 

"Where  can  we  go?" 
asked  Tommy. 

"  You  can  go  to  the 
dogs,"  said  the  Gopher. 

"You  must  not  .talk  like 
that,"  observed  Tommy, 
sharply.  He  had  heard 
his  Uncle  Dick  use  that 
expression  before,  and  it 
shocked  him  a  little. 

"Why  not f"  exclaimed 
the  Gopher.  "  The  dogs 
are  all  right,  even  if  they 
are  down  below.  They 
might  be  of  some  assist- 
ance to  us  if  the  lions  get 
ugly." 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  the  lit- 
tle boy,  but  before  he 
could  say  any  more  the 
Lion  coughed  very  fiercely, 
and  spoke  to  the  ex-Pirate. 

"How  many  lions  and  tigers  did  you  say  there  were  on 
board  of  that  ship  ?" 

"About  a  hundred  and  ten,  I  reckon,"  answered  the  ex- 
Pirate. 

"  One  hundred  and  ten,"  repeated  the  Lion,  slowly. 
"And  you  gathered  them  all  in  '!''  > 

"We  did.  Every  single  one."  The  ex-Pirate's  reckless- 
ness staggered  Tommy  and  the  Gopher.  Then  the  Lion 
growled : 

"That  being  the  case,  I  think  I  shall  have  to  gather  //»« 
in."  And  be  arose,  followed  by  the  tigers,  and  began  to  ap- 
proach the  ex-Pirate  and  the  little  boy.  The,  Gopher  be- 
came.  so  alarmed  that  he  dropped  under  the  table  and  was 
never  seen  again.  Tommy  was  so  scared  that  he  could  not 
move.  But  the  ex -Pirate  jumped  upon  the  table,  and 
drawing  both  his  pistols  from  his  belt,  aimed  them  at  the 
approaching  beasts  and  fired. 

The  flash,  the  bang,  and  the  smoke  caused  Tommy  to 
close  his  eyes  tightly  for  a  second,  and  he  felt  as  though 
his  heart  had  leaped  into  his  throat. 

When  he  opened  them  again  he  was  sitting  on  the  win- 
dow-seat in  his  own  room, and  his  mother  was  standing  in 
the  door\\  a  v 

"  You  must  not  leave  the  door  and  the  windows  open  at 
the  same  time,  Tommy,"  she  was  saying.  "That  causes  a 
draught  and  makes  the  door  slam.  Get  ready  for  supper; 
it  is  nearly  tea-time." 

THE    END. 


1016 


SINTERSCHOL7KSTIC 


THE  FIRST  MEETING  OF  THE  NEW  YORK  Illterscliolastic 
Athletic  Association  this  fall  will  be  held  this  after- 
noon at  Wilson  and  Kellogg's  School.  Of  the  many  questions 
that  are  to  come  up  for  discussion  and  settlement  few  can 
be  of  greater  importance  than  that  of  the  formation  of  a 
National  Interscholastic  Amateur  Athletic  Association,  and 
I  sincerely  hope  that  a  committee  will  be  appointed  to  con- 
sider the  best  ways  and  means  for  carrying  out  the  idea. 
I  have  already  said  all  I  can  in  favor  of  the  scheme,  and 
can  only  repeat  now,  at  the  last  moment,  that  the  forma- 
tion of  such  an  association  will  be  of  the  greatest  benefit 
to  scholastic  track  and  field  sports,  and  that  if  the  New 
York  association  fails  to  seize  the  opportunity  it  now  has 
for  making  history,  in  its  own  sphere,  such  a  chance  may 
never  present  itself  agaiu.  In  fact, I  hear  on  excellent  au- 
thority that  the  New  England  League,  upon  the  advice  of 
a  number  of  Harvard  graduates  who  still  retain  a  lively  in- 
terest in  school  sports,  is  seriously  considering  the  advisa- 
bility of  having  the  initial  move  in  the  formation  of  a 
National  Interscholastic  League  emanate  from  Boston. 

AT  THE  MEETING  of  the  High-School  Athletic  Associa- 
tion in  Worcester  a  week  ago  the  important  question  as  to 
whether  the  Worcester  High-School  should  secede  from 
the  New  England  I.S.A.A.  was  not  settled  owing  to  lack 
of  time  for  a  proper  debate  on  the  subject.  It  will  prob- 
ably come  before  the  newly  elected  board  of  directors  for 
consideration,  although  many  think  a  question  of  so  much 
importance  should  be  brought  before  the  entire  association. 
There  seems  to  be  considerable  feeling  over  the  matter,  but 
such  a  serious  step  should  by  no  means  be  taken  unless 
the  W.  H.-S.  athletes  are  absolutely  persuaded  that  it  is 
for  their  own  best  interests,  and  for  the  best  interest  of 
interscholastic  sport. 

THE  POINT  AT  ISSUE  is  THIS:  Last  winter  an  attempt 
was  made  to  have  the  New  England  I.S.A.A.  vote  to  divide 
the  two  schools,  and  split  up  the  points  won  at  the  recent 
games,  on  the  ground  that  they  were  two  schools,  and 
should  be  considered  such  by  the  I.S.A.A.  The  W.H.-S. 
athletes  naturally  combated  the  suggestion  (which  they 
are  persuaded  emanated  from  their  rival,  the  Worcester 
Academy),  and  presented  some  strong  arguments  in  defence 
of  their  position.  The  principal  reasons  advanced  for  op- 
posing the  plan  were  that  the  two  schools  had  but  one 
alumni  association,  one  football  and  baseball  team,  and  in 
their  field  day  competed  class  against  class  rather  than 
school  against  school.  The  students  made  such  a  good 
fight,  that  when  the  N.E. I.S.A.A.  finally  met  the  motion  to 
consider  the  Worcester  High-Schools  as  two  institutions, 
and  to  divide  the  points  accordingly,  was  lost. 

BUT,  FOLLOWING  UPON  THIS  DECISION,  the  W.H.-S.  team 
went  down  to  Cambridge  in  June,  and  not  only  won  the 
championship  at  the  Interscholastics,  but  scored  twice  as 
many  points  as  any  two  other  schools  in  the  association 
put  together.  As  a  result  of  this  the  pro-division  feeling 
at  other  schools  increased,  and  the  W.H.-S.  students  now 
fear  the  association  may  vote  a  separation  of  athletic  in- 
terests. Fearing  this,  there  is  a  strong  sentiment  in  favor 
of  withdrawing  from  the  association  before  any  such  action 
can  be  taken.  This  seems  unwise,  for  there  is  no  strong 
reason  to  believe  that  the  I.S.A.A.  will  take  any  such  action. 

THE  SECESSION  OF  THE  WORCESTER  H.-S.  would  be  a 
serious  loss  to  the  league,  for  it  is  one  of  its  largest  mem- 
bers and  one  of  the  strongest  in  athletics.  Another  reason 
why  W.H.-S.  ought  not  to  withdraw  is  the  possibility  of 


Andover  and  Worcester  Academy  making  an  arrangement 
for  annual  dual  games — such  as  they  held  last  year — and 
leaving  the  N.E. I.S.A.A.  for  that  reason.  This  would  not 
be  sufficient  cause  for  so  doing,  but  there  is  talk  of  it  both 
at  Andover  and  in  the  Academy.  With  the  loss  of  these 
three  schools  the  association  would  not  be  so  representa- 
tive of  the  New  England  schools  as  it  is  now,  and  the 
cause  of  scholastic  athletics  could  not  fail  to  be  injured. 
I  hope  there  is  more  smoke  than  fire  here. 

IT  is  GOOD  NEWS  FROM  CALIFORNIA  that  the  bicyclists  of 
the  Academic  Athletic  League  are  working  for  the  forma- 
tion of  an  association  separate  from  track  and  field  interests. 
If  the  move  is  successful  it  will  rid  the  latter  sports  of  an 
event  that  never  really  belonged  among  them,  and,  in  ad- 
dition, it  will  undoubtedly  be  of  benefit  to  bicycle-racing, 
which,  if  reasonably  and  properly  conducted,  should  be  en- 
couraged. The  Oakland  High  -  School  already  has  what 
they  call  a  "cycling  annex  "  to  their  regular  athletic  asso- 
ciation— a  branch  of  the  latter  for  the  promotion  of  bi- 
cycling, and  for  the  management  of  bicycle  races.  This 
annex  has  proved  an  excellent  institution,  and  has  served 
to  develop  remarkable  speed  in  some  of  its  members,  as 
these  records  will  show  : 

Distance.  Time.  Holder. 

1-S  mile,  flying  start,  unpaced 13  3-4  sec.  Colby. 

1-4  mile,  flying  stnrt,  unpaced 30  1-5  sec.  Gopch. 

1-4  mile,  standing  start,  unpaced 34  3-4  sec.  Childs. 

1-2  mile,  standing  start,  unpaced 1  min.    7       sec.  Gooch. 

1  mile,  standing  start,  competition   2  min.  18  1-2  sec.  Gooch. 

2  miles,  standing  start,  paced S  min.  12        sec.  Eenna. 

Smiles,  standing  start, competition,  road  race  13  min.  20       sec.  Gooch. 

5  miles,  standing  start,  paced  14  min.  19       sec.  Kurtz. 

AT  THE  MEETING  of  the  Reliance  Athletic  Club,  Septem- 
ber 7th,  Gooch  rode  third  in  the  mile,  Class  A.  The  win- 
ning time  was  2  ruin.  18  sec.,  and  the  O.H.-S.  rider  was  only 
the  length  of  his  bicycle  behind.  On  September  9th  he 
rode  third  to  2  min.  14J  sec.  in  the  Class  A  mile  at  San  Jose". 
The  winner  of  both  these  races  was  an  A.A.L.  rider — 
Squires  of  the  Berkeley  Gymnasium,  who  was  second  in  the 
half,  Class  A,  at  San  Jos6,  when  a  world's  record  was  made. 
The  records  of  the  O.H.-S.,  as  given  above,  were  made  on  the 
Oakland  Race  Track,  which  is  100  yards  short  of  a  mile  in 
circuit,  and  has  a  straightaway  quarter. 

FOOTBALL  IN  THE  NEW  YORK  SCHOOLS  is  slow  in  get- 
ting a  start  this  fall.  Almost  every  other  scholastic  league 
is  hard  at  work  in  the  field,  but  as  yet  scarcely  any  of  the 
school  teams  hereabouts  have  done  any  work.  On  L»ug 
Island  a  little  more  activity  is  being  shown,  but  not  much. 
The  slight  start  they  have  over  the  New-Yorkers,  however, 
will  be  of  benefit  to  them,  and  it  is  not  rash  to  prophesy, 
even  at  such  an  early  date,  that  the  Inter-City  champion- 
ship in  football  will  go  across  the  river,  as  the  baseball 
championship  did  this  spring,  unless  the  Mauhattanites 
display  an  unusual  degree  of  energy  between  now  and  No- 
vember. 

REFERENCE  TO  THE  INTER-CITY  game  suggests  that  in 
view  of  the  three  sets  of  football  rules  in  vogue  this  fall,  it 
will  be  advisable  for  committees  from  the  N.Y.I.S.F.B.A. 
and  from  the  L.I.I.S.F.B.A.,  to  meet  at  as  early  a  date  as 
possible  to  determine  which  set  of  regulations  these  two 
leagues  will  adopt.  For  it  stands  to  reason  that  if  they 
are  to  play  a  match  in  November  they  must  sooner  or  later 
come  to  an  understanding  on  the  subject  of  the  laws  that 
are  to  govern  the  contest.  There  ought  to  be  no  difficulty 
about  this,  the  only  important  point  being  that  the  decision 
should  be  reached  at  once  so  that  every  school  eleven  may 


1017 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


get  into  practice,  ami  learn  to  play  the  game  that  is  to  be 
required  of  them  later. 

THE  ABSURDITY  or  HAVING  tliree  different  sets  of  rules 
lias  already  manifested  itself  among  the  colleges.  Before 
the  game  between  Harvard  and  Dartmouth,  which  was 
played  ten  days  ago,  the  Captains  of  the  respective  teams 
had  to  meet  and  powwow  over  what  methods  should  hold 
good  in  the  contest.  Of  course,  Captain  Brewer  wanted  to 
play  according  to  the  Harvard-Cornell-Penusy  Ivan  i  a  scheme, 
but  Dartmouth,  having  a  Yale  coach,  preferred  tbe  Yale- 
Princeton  system.  This  difficulty  will  doubtless  crop  up 
previous  to  every  game  played  by  one  of  the  five  law-mak- 
ing colleges  with  the  other  colleges  who  had  no  say  about 
the  revision.  It  is  impossible,  of  course,  for  all  the  scho- 
lastic leagues  of  this  section  of  the  United  States  to  get  to- 
gether and  agree  ou  uniformity  of  rules,  and  this  is  un- 
necessary ;  but  I  strongly  urge  neighboring  schools  to  reach 
some  sort  of  an  understanding,  or  there  will  be  no  end  of 
squabbles  as  the  season  advances. 

OF  EARLY  GAMES  IN  NEW  ENGLAND,  Exeter  was  badly 
defeated  by  Dartmouth  College,  Audover  succumbed  to  the 
Boston  Latin  School,  and  a  few  days  afterward  the  B.L.S. 
players  disposed  of  the  Charlestown  High -School  to  tbe 
tune  of  16—4.  B.L.S.  has  a  strong  team  this  year,  beyond 
question.  The  Charlestown  players  were  confident  of  win- 
ning before  the  contest  began,  but  at  no  stage  of  the  game 
did  they  stand  the  slightest  chance  of  success:  Captain 
Maguire,  of  B.L.S.,  did  excellent  work  all  through  the  two 
halves.  He  made  several  long  runs  by  good  dodging  and 
fast  sprinting,  punted  finely,  and  tackled  hard.  Teevens 
found  the  centre  weak,  and  banged  away  at  it  fora  number 
of  good  gains.  Lowe  and  Nagle,  too,  showed  tip  well  by 
breaking  through  on  the  runner  repeatedly,  and  making 
holes  large  enough  for  the  entire  team  to  get  through. 
Ramsey  was  easily  the  best  man  on  the  Charlestown  High, 
making  all  the  large  gains,  and  being  pushed  over  tbe  line 
for  the  only  touch-down.  Cnrley  put  np  a  good  game  at 
quarter,  making  some  fine  tackles,  and  running  the  team  in 
good  shape.  Better  arrangements  should  be  made  in  the 
future  to  keep  enthusiastic  spectators  off  the  field.  This 
is  an  old-time  fault  of  games  between  schools.  The  man- 
agement of  the  home  team  should  always  consider  itself 
responsible  for  the  policing  of  the  field. 


THE  MOST  IMPORTANT  GAME  of  the  New  England  series, 
next  to  the  final  championship  contest,  was  played  at 
Brookline,  Friday,  to  determine  whether  Brookline  High 
or  Newtown  High  should  be  the  sixth  member  of  the  Sen- 
ior League.  As  was  partially  anticipated  in  these  columns 
last  week,  victory  went  to  Brookline;  but  Newton  High's 
defeat  was  much  worse  than  I  had  supposed  it  would  he. 
The  score  was  22-0,  and  this  showing  was  due  much  more 
to  Brookliue's  steady  preliminary  work  than  to  any  great 
discrepancy  in  the  make-up  of  the  two  elevens.  As  a  spec- 
tacle the  game  was  well  worth  watching,  and  the  manager 
of  the  B.H.-S.F.B.A.  saw  to  it  that  the  field  was  kept  clear. 

THE  WEAKEST  POINT  in  the  B.H.-S.  line  was  at  right 
guard,  and  the  Newton  Captain  soon  discovered  this,  and 
sent  his  men  cavorting  into  Talbot  with  good  effect.  Al- 
most all  of  Newton's  gains  were  made  through  here. 
Brookline,  on  the  other  hand,  did  not  play  much  for  centre, 
but  managed  to  get  around  the  opposing  ends  pretty  fre- 
quently, the  last  two  touch-downs  being  made  in  this  way. 
Good  individual  plays  were  made  by  Cook,  Aech tier,  Seaver, 
and  Morse  for  B.H.-S.,  the  first-named  doing  some  especial- 
ly brilliant  punting.  For  Newton  the  best  work  was  done 
by  Getting,  Lee,  and  Forseu. 

NEWTON  FUMBLED  A  <;OOD  DEAL  during  the  game,  and 
many  of  their  losses  were  due  to  this  inability  to  keep  their 
bands  on  the  bull.  At  times,  however,  Lee's  men  seemed 
to  be  able  to  brace,  making  strong  resistance  at  critical 
moments.  B.H.-S.'s  second  touch-down  was  only  secured 
after  a  stubborn  fight.  The  ball  had  been  rushed  down  to 


Newton's  five-yard  line,  when  the  N.H.-S  men  gathered 
themselves  well  together  and  held  their  opponents  for  four 
downs.  But  this  did  them  small  service  eventually,  be- 
cause of  their  woeful  fumbling.  In  the  very  first  rush  fol- 
lowing the  four  downs  the  Newton  runner  dropped  the 
ball,  and  Seaver  fell  on  it.  In  a  few  moments  the  second 
touch-down  was  scored.  If  Newton  had  only  persisted  a, 
little  longer  in  bucking  the  centre  during  the  second  half. 
I  feel  confident  they  could  have  scored. 

THE  CAMBIUDGE  MANUAL  TRAINING -SCHOOL  defeated 
Somerville  High  again  last  week,  and  put  up  some  um.d 
football.  Somerville  was  unable  to  score,  although  they 
played  hard  at  times,  especially  in  the  second  half,  when 
they  got  the  ball  within  four  yards  of  the  opponents'  goal. 
The  best  ground-gainer  for  Cambridge  was  White,  who  also 
did  some  hard  tackling.  Thompson  got  around  the  en. Is 
well  and  interfered  effectively,  and  Captain  Murphy  did 
some  excellent  rush-line  work,  making  most  of  the  holes 
through  which  he  shot  his  men.  Sawin  showed  himself 
a  level-headed  quarter- back,  and  will  doubtless  till  that 
position  for  the  rest  of  the  year. 

SOMERVILLE  HIGH'S  PLAY  was  very  loose  at  times,  and 
tho  men  seemed  to  choose  the  most  critical  moments  of  the 
game  to  do  their  fumbling.  There  was  a  noticeable  lack 
of  team  play,  which  must  be  remedied  at  once  if  Somerville 
hopes  to  do  anything  in  the  championship  series  later  on. 
The  backs  did  not  interfere  for  each  other,  except  on  rare 
occasions,  and  the  C.M.T.-S.  forwards  had  an  easy  time  of  it 
bringing  down  the  runner.  It  looks  to  me  as  if  there  was 
too  much  of  a  desire  on  the  part  of  these  Somerville  backs 
to  shine  by  brilliant  individual  work.  That  is  a  fatal  am- 
bition, and  if  it  exists  should  be  killed  by  the  captain  at 
once.  Football  to-day  is  a  game  for  team-work,  and  the 
star  player  is  a  very  rare  bird  indeed.  In  the  first  half 
S.H.-S.  had  the  ball  only  at  the  kick-off  and  after  touch- 
downs. They  did  not  seem  able  to  hold  it.  In  the  second 
half  they  did  better,  and,  as  I  said,  at  one  time  were  within 
threatening  proximity  to  the  C.M.T.-S.  line ;  but  there  is 
much  room  for  improvement  with  the  Somerville  men. 
Good  coaching  is  what  they  need. 

IT  WAS  A  HOT  GAME  that  was  played  September  28th  be- 
tween Groton  and  the  Boston  English  High-School.  For 
the  first  time  in  the  history  of  the  sport.,  Grotou  met  defeat 
at  the  hands  of  a  Boston  Preparatory  School.  The  Boston 
team  played  a  great  game  throughout,  and  won  by  their 
strength  of  line,  which  -was  impregnable  for  the  Grotou 
backs.  In  the  first  half  E.H.-S.  had  the  ball  most  of  the 
time.  Groton  got  it  but  twice,  only  to  lose  it  immediately 
on  downs.  The  E.H.-S.  players  were  lighter,  but  their 
team-work  w-as  much  superior  to  that  of  Grotou.  Calla- 
han,  Whittemore,  Ellsworth,  Higgius,  and  Murphy  played 
an  extremely  hard  game,  and  the  others'  A\  ork  was  very 
steady.  The  touch-down  was  made  in  the  first  half.  In 
the  second  E.H.-S.  had  the  ball  most  of  the  time,  but  could 
nut  score. 

THE  CHAMPIONSHIP  SCHEDULE  for  the  Senior  League  of 
the  New  England  Interscholastic  Football  Association  was 
made  out  last  week  at  a  meeting  of  the  Captains  held  at 
the  B.A.A.,  and  the  games  will  be  played  as  follows: 

English  High— Oct.  29,  Brookline  High  at  South  End 
grounds;  Nov.  12,  Hopkinson  at  South  End  grounds;  Nov. 
15,  Cambridge  High  and  Latin  at  South  End  ;  Nov. 22,  C.M. 
T.S.  (grounds  undecided);  Nov.  28,  Boston  Latin  at  South 
End. 

Brookline  High— Oct.  29,  English  High  at  South  End  : 
Nov.  4,  Cambridge  High  and  Latin  at  Brookline  Common  : 
Nov.  8,  Cambridge  Manual  at  Soldiers'  Field  ;  Nov.  22,  Bos- 
ton Latin  at  Brookliue  Common;  Nov.  27,  Hopkinsou  at 
Brookline  Common. 

Hopkinsou — Nov.  1,  Cambridge  Manual  at  Soldiers'  Field  ; 
Nov.*.  Cambridge  High  and  Latin  at  Soldiers'  Field;  Nov. 
12.  English  High  at  South  End;  Nov.  IS,  Boston  Latin  at 
Soldiers'  Field;  Nov.  27,  Brookline  High  at  Brookline  Com- 
mon. 


1018 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Cambridge  High  and  Latin  —  Oct.  29, 
Cambridge  Manual  at  Soldiers'  Field  ;  Nov.  4, 
linxikline  High  at  Brookline  Common; 
Nov.  8,  Hopkinson  at  Soldiers'  Field;  Nov. 
U,  Boston  Latin  (grounds  undecided) ;  Nov. 
15.  English  High  at  South  End. 

Cambridge  Manual — Oct.  29,  Cambridge 
High  and  Latin  at  Soldiers'  Field;  Nov.  1, 
Hopkinson  at  Soldiers'  Field ;  Nov.  8,  Brook- 
line  High  at  Soldiers'  Field ;  Nov.  15,  Boston 
Latin  at  Soldiers'  Field;  Nov.  22,  English 
High  (grounds  undecided). 

Boston  Latin — Nov.  12,  Cambridge  High 
and  Latin  at  South  End  grounds;  Nov.  15, 
Cambridge  Manual  at  Soldiers'  Field;  Nov. 
18,  Hopkinson  at  South  End  grounds;  Nov. 
22,  Brookline  at  Brookliue  Common  ;  Nov. 
28,  English  High  at  South  End  grounds. 

Tun  JUNIOR  LEAGUE  SCHHDUI.E  was  not 
made  up,  because  of  absentees  among  the 
representatives,  but  it  has  doubtless  been 
arranged  by  this  time.  The  number  of 
games  will  be  greater  this  year  than  before, 
and  as  a  matter  of  interesting  record  this 
table  of  matches  played  since  the  organiza- 
tion of  the  League  is  here  given  : 


Teams, 

- 
, 

• 

.2 
I*. 

; 
1 

Touch-downs  fnilingGonls. 

2 

1 
I 

: 

m 

1 
3 

i 
I 

1 

S 

c 

H 

3 
: 

1 

I 

1888. 
Cambridge  II.  find  L  

•ju 

1" 

4 

1T 

136 

411 

15 

i 

0 
1 

Roxhiuy  Latin  

In 
" 

i 
9 

\ 

66 

20 

56 

7S 

4 

2 

Stone,  Nichols*,  mid  Ilulus 

4 
1 

• 

1 

46 

IS 

52 
126 

3 

Noble** 

I 

9 

10S 

i 

1889. 
Cambridge  H.  and  L.  

11 
S 

:: 

6 

IIS 
46 

16 

3 

. 

0 

1 

4 

IS 

•'u 

, 

ft 

1 

24 

6S 

1 

6 

103 

t 

1890. 
Cambridge  H.  and  L  

10 
10 

•• 
7 

91 

S-, 

35 

I 

7 

8 

52 

Q 

R 

1 

.1 

IT 

4* 

I  • 

•i 

1 

1? 

80 

1 

. 

122 

0 

1* 

1891. 
Hopkinsons  

17 
9 

1 

7 
•S 

130 
79 

4 
56 

4 

0 

? 

English  Hi^h  

2 

4 

12 

60 

48 
53 

2 

9 

2 

fl 

Cambridge  H.  and  L  .  .  .  . 

135 

1 

4 

1892. 
Hopkinsons  

Manual  Training  

12 
•2 
R 

i 
3 
4 

88 
24 
46 

S 
34 

4 
1 
f, 

0 

It 

Cambridge  H.  and  L  
Boston  Latin  

1 
2 

1 

1 

10 
16 

34 
56 

1 
0 

1 

1893. 
English  High  
Manual  Training  
Boston  Lnliii  
Newton  High  
Cambridge  H.  and  L  

11 
19 
3 

1" 
5 

3 
5 
3 
3 
1 
R 

7S 
134 
30 
72 
34 
M 

56 
28 
68 

SS 
T8 
R-l 

4t 

2 
2 
1 
0 

Ot 

1 

3 

•-M 
•It 

1S94. 

9 

71 

I 

ti 

1] 

9 

6S 

26 

8 

" 

Cambridge  H.  and  L  
HopUinsons  
Boston  LsUin  
Newton  Ilitrh  .  . 

•J 
: 
3 
1 

1 

2 

16 
12 

22 

14 

98 
16 
32 

58 

2 
2 

'L 

3 
3 

t  Two  tied.  J  Forfeited. 

ST.  MARK'S  HAS  six  of  last  year's  men  hack 
in  school,  ami   a  number  of  promising  can- 
Several  minor  games  have   been 


played, l)ut  the  chief  matches  will  be  with 
Andover  next  week,  and  with  C4roton,  No- 
vember 9th.  At  the  present  writing  Gmtoii 
has  the  better  eleven,  bnt  the  St.  Mark's 
players  are  working  hard  under  good  coach- 
ing and  will  improve.  Tin-:  GRADUATE. 


A  JOKE  ON  THE  MARINES. 

AN  old  bnt  a  true  story  goes  the  rounds 
in  the  navy  concerning  an  uninten- 
tional slur  that  was  made  upon  a  body  of 
sea-soldiers  known  as  the  marines,  by  a 
venerable  chaplain  attached  to  the  frigate 
llni-lford,  at  the  time  that  vessel  was  Ad- 
miral Farragnt's  flag-ship.  It  was  the  Sun- 
day just  after  the  terrible  passage  of  the 
Mississippi  River  forts,  and  iu  his  sermon 
the  chaplain  sought  to  impress  his  large 
congregation  gathered  on  the  gun-deck  of 
the  vessel  the  fact  of  each  one  being  re- 
sponsible for  his  own  salvation.  In  con- 
cluding his  appeal,  and  with  his  face  rlusli- 
ed  from  the  warmth  of  his  argument,  he 


turned  to  the  gallant  old  Admiral,  and  ex- 
claimed, 

"  Yes,  Admiral,  yon  as  well  as  the  low  lies! 
of  the  seamen  who  are  listening  to  me  this 
morning,  cannot  escape  that  individual  re- 
sponsibility ;  and  you,  my  dear  associates  of 
the  ward-room,  and  other  officers,  you  also 
must  take  this  lesson  to  yourselves."  Then 
addressing  the  sailors,  he  said,  "There  is  uo 
man  among  you  who  can  shift  this  i|iirM  ion 
to  another's  shoulders.  Admiral,  Captain, 
otnVrrs,  and  seamen,  you  all  have  souls  ti> 
sa\ •(•.''  K'omrmbering  that  in  his  summing 
up  he  had  omitted  all  references  to  the  sol- 
diers of  the  ship,  he  hastened  to  include 
them  also  by  adding,  "Yes,  even  a  marine 
has  a  soul  to  save." 

The  joke,  although  perfectly  innocent, 
was  too  rich  not  to  tickle  the  congregation, 
and  a  titter  followed  the  chaplain's  closing 
sentence.  From  that  day  the  poor  marines 
have  been  the  butt  of  the  sailors,  who  oc- 
casionally find  the  greatest  satisfaction  in 
reminding  them  that  "  Even  a  marine  has  a 
soul  to  save." 


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i  INTERNATIONAL  J 

.DICTIONARY, 


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tention, to  the  changes  made  in 
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U  c 

J 


NEW  YORK. 


1019 


bridged.' 

THE  BEST  FOR  EVERYBODY^ 

BECAUSE 

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wanted. 

Words  are  given  their  cor- 3 
rectalpliabeucalplHceB,each;i 
one  beginning  El  paragraph.  * 

It  is  easy  to  ascertai  n  t 
pronunciation. 

The  pronunciation  issho^vn  by  the  ordinary  dla-Jl 
critically  marked  letters  used  in  the  Bchoolbooks.J 
kit  is  easy  to  trace  the  growth  of  a  word. 

The  etymologies  are  full,  and  the  different  mean-! 
ings  are  given  in  the  order  of  their  development,^ 

Sit  is  easy  to  learn  what  a  word  means. 

The  definitions  are  clear,  explicit,  and  full,  ami  (j 
each  is  contained  ia  a  separate  paragraph. 

G.  i€r  C.  MERRIAM  CO.,  Publishers^ 
Springfield,  Mass., 


Harper's  Catalogue, 

Thoroughly  revised,  classified,  and  in- 
dexed, will  be  sent  by  mail  to  any  ad- 
dress on  receipt  of  ten  cents. 


HAEPEE'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Bicyc/e  route. 

r  bteyc/eroad. 
*-•-»•  Railway  station 
r  poor  road 


BICYCLING 


This  Depai 


s  conducted  in  the  interest  of  Bicyclers,  and  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to 
.  question  on  the  subject.     Our  maps  and  tours  contain  much  valuable  data  kindly 
supplied  from  the  official  maps  and  road-books  of  the  League  of  American  Wheelmen.     Recop- 
niziitR  the  value  of  the  work  being  done  by  the  L.  A.  W.,  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to  furnish 
subscribers  with  membership  blanks  and  information  so  far  as  possible. 


T^HE  JOURNEY  FROM  SHANNOCK  TO  PROVIDENCE, 
is  the  fifth  stage  of  the  run  from  New  York  to  Boston, 
is  another  short  trip.  Ou  leaving  Sliaunock  the  rider  runs 
out  of  the  village  from  the  southeast,  and  theu  at  the  cross- 
ing of  roads  keeps  always  to  the  left,  moving  northward, 
and  soon  crossing  a  small  stream.  The  run  from  this  point 
is  unmistakable.  A  little  more  than  three  miles  out  he 
crosses  the  stream  again,  passes  over  a  bit  of  billy  country, 
and  after  crossing  the  railroad  runs  directly  into  Kingston. 
Here  a  sharp  turn  is  made  to  the  north  and  left  again,  and 
passing  Mooresfield  the  rider  runs  on  to  Slocumville  over 
a  moderately  good  road-bed,  but  through  some  pretty  hilly 
country.  In  fact  there  are  several  good  hills  between 
Shannock  and  East  Greenwich,  all  of  which  are  designated 
on  the  map.  From  Slocumville  to  Belleville  through  Al- 
lentou  is  a  clear  course  over  a  good  road,  bad  in  spots; 
and  thence  the  route  skirts  along  the  inlets  of  the  bay 
direct  to  Wickford.  Wickford  station  and  hotel  are  some 
distance  oif  the  bicycle  route,  but  it  is  hardly  necessary  to 
stop  here,  and  the  rider  would  better  keep  on  direct  to  East 
Greenwich,  where  a  stop  can  be  made  for  lunch  or  dinner, 
with  a  little  under  twenty-five  miles  done  for  the  morning's 
run.  The  road  from  Wickford  to  East  Greenwich  is  easily 
followed  if  you  take  care  to  keep  to  the  main  road  and  do 
not  swerve  to  right  or  left.  It  becomes  better  as  you  pro- 
ceed northward  as  to  road-bed  and  hills.  From  East  Green- 
wich, the  rider  follows  the  shore  of  Narragansett  Bay  up  to 
Apponaug,  and  if  he  happens  to  run  through  East  Greenwich 
without  stopping  for  dinner  he  can  find  a  reasonably  good 
meal  at  this  place,  though  011  the  whole  East  Greenwich  is 
a  much  more  satisfactory  spot.  Side  paths  can  he  used 
along  this  part  of  the  road  to  great  advantage  at  times, 
though  that  goes  without  saying  anywhere  outside  of  vil- 
lages or  towns.  On  entering  Apponaug  the  rider  turns 
sharply  to  the  right  into  the  village,  and  on  leaving  he 
keeps  on  the  same  road,  running  eastward,  until  just  before 
crossing  the  track.  At  this  point  he  turns  sharply  to  the 
left  and  runs  up  to  Marlors,  crossing  the  railroad  there. 
The  road  now1  runs  along  not  far  from  the  track,  passing 
Hillsgrove.  Thence  the  rider  should  keep  straight  on  to 
Pawtuxet.  On  entering  the  main  street  turn  to  the  left 
and  pass  directly  through  the  town,  leaving  Elinville  on 
the  left,  and  soon  afterwards,  perhaps  three  miles  further 
on,  running  into  the  most  distant  suburbs  of  Providence. 
It  is  some  distance  to  the  centre  of  the  city,  where  the  Xar- 
ragansett  House  is  a  good  place  to  stop.  Indeed  the  jour- 
ney winds  about  so  that  it  is  thirty-seven  or  thirty-eight 
miles  before  you  have  made  the  run  from  Shanuock  to 
Providence. 

IF  THE  RIDER  is  ONE  who  can  easily  do  seventy  or  eighty 
miles  in  a  day  he  can  make  a  short  detour  near  the  be- 
ginning of  the  journey  and  spend  part  of  the  morning  at 
Narragausett  Pier.  On  leaving  Kingston,  instead  of  turn- 
ing sharply  to  the  left  at  the  junction  of  the  roads,  go  east- 
ward on  the  Mooresfield  road,  and  take  the  first  right-hand 
turn.  This  will  carry  you  to  Narraugausett  Pier  in  short 
order,  as  it  is  not  many  miles  away.  In  like  manirer  the 
main  road  to  Providence  may  be  joined  again  at  Alleuton 
by  following  the  secondary  bicycle  route  designated. 

NOTK.—  Map  of  New  York  city  asphalted  streets  in  No.  809.  Map  of 
route  from  New  York  to  Tarrytown  in  No.  810.  New  York  to  Stamford, 
Connecticut,  in  No.  811.  New  York  to  Staten  Island  in  No.  812.  New 
Jersey  from  Hobokeu  to  Pine  Brook  in  No.  813.  Brooklyn  in  No.  814. 
Brooklyn  to  Babylon  in  No.  815.  Brooklyn  to  Northport  in  No.  816. 
Tarrytown  to  Poughkeepsie  in  No.  SIT.  Poughkeepsie  to  Hudson  in 
No.  SIS.  Hudson  to  Albany  in  No.  819  Tottenville  to  Trenton  in  820. 
Trenton  to  Philadelphia  in  S21.  Philadelphia  in  No.  822.  Philadelphia 
— Wissahickon  Route  in  No.  S23.  Philadelphia  to  West  Chester  in  No. 
824.  Philadelphia  to  Atlantic  City— First  Stage  in  No.  825;  Second 
Stage  in  No.  826.  Philadelphia  to  Vinelund  —  First  Stage  in  No.  S2I. 
Second  Stnge  in  No.  82S.  New  York  to  Boston— Second  Stage  in  No.  829; 
Third  Stage  in  No.  830;  Fourth  Stage  in  No.  831. 


Copyright,  1S95,  by  Harper  & 


HAEPEE'S   BOUND   TABLE 


Any  questions  in  regard  to  photograph  matters  will  be  willing] 
answered  by  the  Editor  of  this  column,  and  we  should  be  glad  to  he* 
from  any  of  our  club  who  can  make  helpful  suggestions. 

PAPERS  FOR  BEGINNERS,  No.  14. 
MOUNTING  FEINTS. 

AS  a  rule  all  priuts  should  be  trimmed 
before  toning.  This  is  not  only  econ- 
omy, but  it  simplifies  the  mounting  process. 
Aristo  prints  can  be  mounted  direct  from 
the  ferrotype  plate  or  the  ground-glass  to 
which  they  have  been  squeegeed  to  dry. 
When  thoroughly  dry,  paste  the  back  of  a 
print,  lift  the  corner  from  the  plate  with  the 
point  of  a  kuife,  aud  peel  off  the  picture. 
Place  the  upper  edge  of  the  picture  on  a 
line  with  the  top  of  the  card,  aud  let  the 
print  drop  into  place.  Lay  a  piece  of  tissue- 
paper  over  the  face  of  the  print,  aud  roll 
the  squeegee  over  it  very  lightly  and  evenly, 
taking  care  that  no  air-blisters  are  left  be- 
tween the  print  and  the  card-mount.  By 
monutiug  aristo  prints  in  this  way  oue  avoids 
getting  paste  on  the  face  of  the  picture,  aud 
it  will  retain  much  of  the  gloss  imparted  to 
it  by  the  ferrotype  plate. 

Instead  of  drying  the  priuts  before  mount- 
ing they  can  be  taken  from  the  water  one 
at  a  time,  and  placed  face  down  on  a  pane 
of  glass,  or  the  bottom  of  the  toning  tray. 
After  all  are  placed,  absorb  as  much  of  the 
water  as  possible  with  a  piece  of  blotting- 
paper.  Apply  the  paste  to  the  top  print, 
being  particular  to  have  the  edges  well 
covered.  Lift  the  print  aud  lay  it  on  the 
card-mount,  and  rub  down  with  squeegee  as 
directed.  When  the  pictures  are  dry  they 
cau  bo  buruisbed  if  desired.  Card-mounts 
come  in  all  sizes,  and  the  beginner  usually 
selects  a  mount  the  size  of  the  print  to  be 
mounted.  Now  a  picture  to  look  its  best 
should  be  mounted  on  a  card  large  enough 
to  show  at  least  an  inch  margin  all  rouud. 
A  6X8  card  is  a  good  size  for  a  4X5  print. 
Plain  card-mounts  of  creamy  white  or  soft 
gray  are  much  less  expensive  than  the  small 
mounts  with  gilt  or  faucy  edges,  aud  are 
much  more  artistic. 

Before  mounting  a  print  it  is  a  good  idea 
to  lay  it  on  the  card  and  see  what  best  ac- 
cords with  the  color.  After  the  prints  are 
mounted  write  the  name  of  the  picture  on 
each.  If  written  ou  the  back,  which  is  usu- 
ally to  be  preferred  to  the  face  of  the  print, 
any  item  of  interest  about  the  picture  can 
be  added.  Do  not  mount  a  print  unless  it 
has  some  claim  to  merit.  An  amateur  is  al- 
ways being  asked  to  show  his  pictures,  and 
it  does  not  add  to  one's  reputation  as  a 
photographer  to  exhibit  dismal  failures  and 
dignify  them  with  the  name  of  pictures. 
There  is  no  use  in  perpetuating  a  failure. 

When  visitors  ask  to  see  your  pictures  do 
not  bring  out  every  oue  which  you  happen 
to  have  mounted.  A  dozen  well-taken  and 
well-mounted  pictures  are  more  appreciated 
and  more  enjoyed  than  a  large  collection  of 
which  one  tires  before  he  gets  to  the  end. 
Always  have  a  few  good  pictures  reserved 
for  yourself.  One  so  often  hears  the  excuse, 
"  Oh,  I  haven't  any  good  prints,"  that  it  be- 
comes tiresome.  Make  at  least  a  dozen  as 


fine  priuts  as  you  cau,  aud  keep  them  for 
exhibition,  adding  fresh  ones  as  the  old  ones 
become  soiled. 

Ct.Aiti  ANDREWS  wants  to  know  what  is  meant  b, 
halation.    Halation  is  the  term  used  to  denote  the 
spreading  of  light  beyond  its  proper  place  ou  the  nega- 
tive.   In  photographing  an  interior  where  the  camera 
is  pointed  toward  a  window  the  light  from  the  windo 
is  reflected  from  the  back  of  the  negative,  and  makes 
a  sort  of  halo  or  fog  round  the  picture  of  the  window 
Plates  called  non- halation  plates  are  now  made  fo 
the  purpose  of  photographing  clouds,  windows,  lights, 
etc.,  without  having  this  fog  appear. 

E.  A.  D.  asks  if  there  is  a  way  to  take  a  photograph 
from  an  engraving,  and  how  it  is  done.  Copying  pho- 
tographs and  engravings  is  very  easily  done.  Place 
the  picture  on  a  board,  holding  it  in  place  with  clamps 
or  letter-clips,  and  set  the  board  upright.  Arrange  the 
camera,  and  focus  on  the  principal  object  in  the  pic- 
ture. The  picture  must  be  at  exactly  the  same  angle 
as  the  camera.  If  the  camera  is  exactly  horizontal  the 
picture  must  also  be  placed  in  the  same  position.  It 
is  best  to  take  the  pictures  out-of-doors,  as  the  light 
is  more  even  than  in  the  honse.  Expose  a  little  longei 
than  for  ordinary  landscapes  or  figures. 


HARD  TO  UNDERSTAND. 

HE'S  got  a  pretty  pinky  cheek ; 
He's  fat  and  fair  as  Cupid; 
But  if  /  said  things  baby  says, 
They'd  think  ine  very  stupid. 

And  yet  whene'er  he  says  those  things, 

For  twenty  minutes  after 
The  rooms  aud  hallways  loud  resound 

With  pop's  aud  mamma's  laughter. 


SICKNESS  AMONG  CHILDREN 
is  prevalent  at  all  seasons  of  the  year,  but  can  be 
avoided  largely  when  they  are  properly  cared  for. 
Infant  Health  is  the  title  of  a  valuable  pamphlet  ac- 
cessible to  all  who  will  send  address  to  the  New  York 
Condensed  Milk  Company,  N.  Y.  City.— [Adv.] 


ADVERTISEMENTS. 


You   See  Them   Everywhere 


Waller  Baiter  t  Go.  Limited 

The  Largest  Manufacturer  of 

PURE,  HIGH  GRADE 

COCOAS  and  CHOCOLATES 

On  this  Continent,  have  received 

HIGHEST  AWARDS 

from  the  great 

Industrial  and  Food 

\       EXPOSITIONS 
IN  EUROPE  AND  AMERICA. 

Caution:    LV'Tmi?.^6. 

'of  the  labels  and  wrapper^  on  our 
eoodi,  coniumeri  ihould  mate  fcure 

itnat  our  place  of  manufacture, 
nannlj.  Dorch«»ter,  Ma«». 
it  printed  on  «ach  package. 


SOLD  BY  GROCERS  EVERYWHERE. 


WALTER  BAKER  A  CO.  LTD.  DORCHESTER,  MASS. 


Boys, 


You  must  not  expect  to  have  a  watch 
build  fires  in  the  morning,  or  milk  cows 
for  you,  but  the 

"Rugby'Watches 

are  the  handsomest  watches  ever  made, 
are  perfect  time-keepers,  and 

Are  Warranted  Every  Way. 

To  thoroughly  post  yourself,  send  for 
the  "  Rugby  "  Catalogue— you  will  get 
a  few  points  about  watches  that  will  sur- 
prise you. 

The  Waterbury  Watch  Co., 

204  Waterbury,  Conn. 


OFFICIAL  ANNOUNCEMENT  °f  a«™rd 

CILLOTT'S  PEN  Sat  the  CHICAGO  EXPOSITION. 
•AWAKD:  "  For  excellence  of  steel  used  In  their 
manufacture,  it  being  fine  grained  and  elastic  ;  super- 
ior workmanship,  especially  shown  by  the  careful 
rinding  which  leaves  the  pens  free  from  defects  The 
mpering  is  t-xcellent  and  the  action  of  the  finished 
ens  perfect."  (Signed)  FRANZ  VOGT. 

(H.  I.  KIM  BALL,  Individual  Judge. 

Approved:-         IYe.i'1  Ilrjnrlmentnl  Committee. 
I  JOHN  BO  YD  THACHER, 

Chairman  Exec.  Com.  on  Awards. 


gri 
te 


|)o0tage  Stamps, 


1(10  all  dif.  Venezuela,  Bolivia,etc.,  only  10c.; 
•21  ill  all  dif.  Hayti,  Hawaii,  etc.,  only  BOc.Ag'ts 
w't'datBOperct.  com.  List  FREE!  U.  A. 
Stegniaiiii,5941CoteBriliame,St.Louis,Mo. 


B.  & 


ogue  at  $'. 
at  15c. 


t.  ^\  Telegraph  Stamps  (Forbes  &  Co.), 
\U  \J  m  full  eel,  used,  60c.;  they  cata- 
it'j.uo.  Full  set  Hoen  &  Co.,  5c.;  catalogued 
I  .  I  .  PARKER,  Bethlehem,  Fa. 


The  Eight  Numbers  of  the  Franklin 
Square  Song  Collection  contain 

1600 

of  the  Choicest  Old  and  New  Songs 
and  Hymns  in  the  Wide  World. 

Fifty  Cents  per  Number  in  paper;  Sixty  Cents  in 
substantial  Board  binding;  One  Dollar  in  Cloth. 
The  Eight  Numbers  also  bound  in  two  volumes  at 
^3.00  each.  Address  Harper  &  Brothers,  New  York. 


1021 


HA'EPER'S    BOUND    TABLE 


A  Jamaica  Sky  fleeting. 

I  shall  try  and  tell  you  about  a  Jamaica  sky  meet- 
ing, given  by  the  Garrison  Gymkhana  Club,  I  went 
to  about  a  week  ago.  The  drive  down  there  is 
eight  miles,  and  is  very  pretty.  The  hard  while 
road  winds  along,  some  of  the  way,  beside  a  deep, 
lovely,  tropical  valley  with  a  narrow  musical  lit- 
tle river  leaping  and  tumbling  among  big  gray 
rocks,  half  the  time  hidden  by  the  dense  green  foli- 
age, and  then  springing  out  in  a  silver  waterfall. 
On  the  other  side  of  the  road  the  tall  brown  moun- 
tains rise  up  almost  straight,  with  jagged  rocks 
sticking  out  of  them.  A  little  beyond  this  are 
broad  fields,  some  planted  in  sugar-cane,  and  of  a 
brilliant  green,  others  with  tall  golden-brown  grass 
sweeping  to  the  foot  of  the  mountains. 

As  we  swing  around  corners  we  come  upon  oc- 
casional squads  of  negro  women  peasants  with 
the  customary  baskets  of  miscellaneous  products, 
fruit  and  vegetable,  on  their  heads,  and  some  driv- 
ing donkeys  similarly  loaded  in  panniers.  They 
scatter  in  all  directions  as  our  coachman  cracks 
his  whip  without  deigning  to  slow  up.  At  last  we 
reached  our  destination  and  took  our  places  on  the 
grand  stand.  In  front  of  us  was  a  big  square  plain- 
To  the  left,  Long  Mountain,  while  to  the  right  lay 
the  Caribbean,  its  shores  fringed  with  cocoamit- 
palms.  The  centre  of  the  field  contained  the  re- 
freshment tent. 

The  grand  stand  now  began  to  fill  up,  and  soon 
the  first  race  was  called.  While  they  were  prepar- 
ing for  this  we  saw  about  a  score  of  musicians  in 
zouave  uniform  marching  up  from  the  barracks. 
These  constituted  the  West  India  band.  They  were 
all  negroes,  and  some  had  brilliant-colored  turbans 
on,  and  some  little  caps  with  tassels.  Lots  of  the 
Nr\\i  i^tle  soldiers  were  there,  and  their  scarlet 
coats  and  white  helmets  made  a  vivid  bit  of  color. 
Officers  on  horseback  galloped  about  with  white 
and  red  flags  shouting  out  directions.  The  zouaves 
were  now  in  position,  and  the  band-master,  who 
was.  white,  with  a  uniform  to  match,  and  a  huge 
mustache,  soon  started  the  music.  We  watched 
him  with  delight  as  he  kept  time  with  his  wand, 
making  the  delicious  gestures  that  only  a  baud- 
master  can  make. 

The  racers  were  mostly  polo  ponies,  mostly  of 
thirteen  hands.  I  won  two  of  the  races ;  one  on  a 
little  gray,  and  the  other  on  a  slender  black  with  a 
graceful  head.  We  left  after  the  sixth  race,  while 
the  band  played  with  as  much  vim  as  if  for  the  first 
— "  God  save  the  Queen  !" 

GOEDON  TOWN,  JAMAICA.  BEATRIE   HAWTHORNE. 


From  a  Knight  in  Japan. 

In  answer  to  your  request,  I  will  try  to  give  you 
a  few  ideas  about  Japan.  Japan  is  an  ancient  isl- 
and empire;  but  after  the  restoration  the  empire 
was  entirely  governed  by  the  Emperor  Mustu-Hito, 
uniil  lie  gave  to  the  people  a  constitution,  in  1S89. 
rhe  Emperor  is  assisted  in  the  government  by  a 
Prime  Minister,  a  cabinet,  and  two  bouses  of  Par- 
liament. Tokyo,  the  capital,  is  a  very  beautiful 
3ity,  one  reason  being  its  numerous  moats,  walls, 
xnd  stone  embankments,  on  which  grow  the  odd- 
shaped  Japanese  pines. 

The  parks  are  beautiful  and  very  large,  and  have 
nany  grand  old  trees  hundreds  of  years  old.  The 
population  of  Tokyo  is  nearly  a  million  and  a  half, 
ind  it  contains  a  hundred  square  miles.  It  is  very 
not  in  summer  and  very  cold  in  winter.  Our  raiuy 
season  is  in  summer,  while  our  dry  season  is  in  win- 
der. We  rarely  have  more  than  two  or  three  light 
inow-storms  a  winter. 

The  persimmon  and  orange  are  natives  of  Japan. 
jvhile  there  are  grapes  and  figs  in  plenty,  plums, 
strawberries  in  season,  a  few  apples,  and  tasteless 
Dears.  Yokohama  is  the  principal  .seaport,  and 
las  100,000  inhabitants.  It  looks  very  much  like  a 
'oreisn  city  except  for  the  tile  roofs.  The  streets 
it  all  the  cities  of  Japan  are  macadamized  and 
Beautifully  clean  Yokohama  contains  5000  for- 
eigners, 200  only  of  which  are  Americans.  The  peo- 
ple of  Japan  are  so  exceedingly  polite  and  courte- 
>us  that  they  rival  the  French  in  that  respect. 
Phey  are  very  industrious,  and,  as  the  late  war  has 
)roved,  are  patriotic  and  brave.  I  suppose  you 
ire  all  as  glad  as  I  am  that  Japan  has  been  victori- 
>us,  as  I  think  that  Americans  take  the  side  of  the 


Japanese.     I  have  lived  here  six  years,  but  was 
born  in  San  Francisco  and  lived  there  seven  years. 

TUKVU,  JAPAN.  CHARLES   H.  THORN,  R.T.K. 


Query  for  the  Natural  History  Society. 

Does  any  botanical  member  know  the  modern 
classification  (whether  as  animal  or  vegetable)  of 
the  Tremella  (Conferva  gelatinosa),  a  green  water- 
plant?  It  forms  in  stagnant  pools,  and  consists  of 
a  number  of  filaments  interwoven  through  each 
other.  According  to  the  description,  if  one  of  these 
is  moistened  and  placed  under  a  microscope,  the 
extremities  rise  and  fall  alternately,  and  move  to 
the  right  or  to  the  left,  twisting  in  various  direc- 
tions. Sometimes  it  forms  itself  into  an  oval  or  ir- 
regular curve.  If  two  are  placed  side  by  side,  they 
become  twisted  together  by  a  peculiar  motion.  If 
we  are  to  believe  the  author,  the  plant  has  the  nine 
lives  of  a  cat,  for  if  a  filament  or  mass  of  tremella 
is  dried  and  laid  away  for  several  mouths  it  will, 
on  being  moistened,  revive  and  multiply  as  before. 

The  plant  was  also  known  under  the  names  of 
Omnium  tentrrima  et  minima  and  Aquarium  limo  in. 
nascens.  Can  any  member  give  me  further  infor- 
mation on  this  subject? 

VINCENT  V.  M.  BEEDE,  K.T.F. 

HACKEITSTOWN,  N  J. 

*  *  * 

Prizes  for  Entertainment  Programmes. 

Two  prizes  of  $10  each  will  be  given  by  HARPEU'S 
ROUND  TABLE  for  the  best  programme  for  evening 
entertainments.  Of  course  the  programmes  must 
be  new.  The  performance  should  consume  at  least 
one  hour,  and  be  open  to  both  sexes,  any  age,  and 
from  four  to  an  unlimited  number  of  people.  Use 
your  ingenuity,  and  devise  something  funny  and 
interesting.  Write  the  particulars  of  it  in  full,  and 
mail  them  to  HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE,  New  York, 
uot  later  than  December  15, 1895.  Competition  is 
open  to  everybody. 

A  full  list  of  all  prizes  will  be  sent  to  all  who  ask 
for  it. 


Prizes  for  Music  Compositions. 

Four  prizes  are  offered  by  HARPER'S  ROUND 
TABLE  for  music  compositions,  competition  open 
to  everybody.  The  two  first  prizes  are  $5  each,  in 
inoney ;  the  two  second,  fifty  engraved  visiting- 
cards,  winners'  names,  with  copper  plate  for  future 
use.  Compositions  must  be  plainly  written  on  mu- 
sic paper,  and  forwarded  not  later  than  December 
15, 1895. 

The  following,  "  A  Thanksgiving  Song,"  requires 
a  hymn  composition,  with  the  four  parts— soprano, 
alto,  tenor,  and  bass.  Here  is  the  first  verse  : 

"For  sowing  and  reaping,  for  cold  and  for  heat, 
For   sweets    of   the    flowers,  and    gold   of   the 

wheat, 

For  ships  in  the  harbors,  for  sails  on  the  sea, 
O  Father  in  heaven,  our  songs  rise  to  Thee." 

The  other  one  requires  the  soprano,  or  tune,  and 
piano  accompaniment.  Here  is  the  first  verse  : 

"  We  have  an  echo  in  our  house, 

An  echo  three  years  old, 
With  dimpled  cheeks  and  wistful  eyes, 
And  hair  of  sunny  gold." 

The  concluding  verses  of  both  these  poems  will 
be  found  in  Little  Knights  and  Ladies,  by  Margaret 
E.  Sangster.  Verses  here  given  are  sufficient  for 
this  competition,  but  those  who  may  want  the  con- 
cluding verses  can  procure  the  book  from  any  book- 
seller ;  price,  $1.  Messrs.  HARPER  &  BROTHERS  are 
the  publishers,  and  will  send  the  volume,  postpaid, 
on  receipt  of  the  price.  Put  your  name  and  ad- 
dress on  the  back  of  the  competition,  and  say 
whether  you  are  over  or  under  eighteen  years  of 
age.  There  are  no  other  conditions. 


s>    Ikinfcs.   8 

No.  106. — A  STUDY  IN  FLOWERS. 
Tell  me  the  name  of  the  fatherly  flower  (1), 
And   of   that   which    expresses   permission,  not 

power  (3), 
Of  the  flower  you'd  wish,  had  you  broken  your 

arm  (3), 
Of   the   one   coining  fresh   from    the   daity  and 

farm  (4), 

1022 


Of  the  church-going  flower,  in  gorgeous  attire  (5), 
And  the  plant  you  may  use  if  the  cow  runs  dri- 
er (6) ; 

The  darling  Billy  (7),  and  the  reverend  John  (8), 
The  grass  beloved  by  every  one  (9), 
The  flower  that  bids  you  for  money  to  wed  (10), 
And  that  which  you  often  put  on  your  head  (11), 
The  flower  composed  entirely  of  hair  (12), 
And   that   both  a  dude   and   a   beast  somewhat 

rare  (13), 

The  dark-eyed  maid  (14),  and  the  tattered  tar  (15), 
The  pilgrim  of  Israel  come  from  tifar  (16), 
The  plant  full  of  money  (17),  and   that  full  of 

legs  (18), 

The  one  for  which  many  a  poor  beggar  begs  (19), 
The  flower  pretending  to  be  a  large  stone  (20), 
And  those  worn  by  a  man  who  lives  all  alone  (81). 
What   flowers    are   for   kissing    considered    the 

best  (22)! 

And    which    doth   a    dear   darky   mammy    sug- 
gest (23 1? 

Which  does  old  Reynard  wear  on  his  paw  (24)? 
And  what  does  a  lady  oft  place  on  the  floor  (85)? 
In   what   flower   are   various    vegetables   plant- 
ed (26)? 

And  what  weed  is  by  fishermen  oftentimes  want- 
ed (27)? 

In  what  flower  do  many  animals  go  (28)? 
And  which  did  the  old  Indian  cast  at  his  foe  (29)? 

G.V.B. 


Where  is  the  Richest  Gold-Mine? 

The  Black  Hills  are  in  the  western  part  of  South 
Dakota,  and  they  extend  a  little  distance  into  Wyo- 
ming. The  largest  gold-mines  in  the  world  are  up 
in  Lead  City,  a  small  town  about  four  miles  from 
here.  Silver  is  also  found  in  some  places.  There 
are  some  high  rocks  here  in  this  city  called  "  White 
Rocks, "because  they  are  of  a  white  color.  When 
visitors  come  and  learn  the  height  (6000  feet),  they 
are  filled  with  a  desire  to  climb  them.  People  often 
give  up  other  trips  to  have  a  climb  up  the  highest 
rock.  Even  invalids  attempt  the  journey.  You 
pass  the  cemetery  about  half-way  up. 

We  have  firemen's  tournaments  here  about  once 
a  year.  At  these,  firemen  take  the  hose-carts  (we 
don't  have  fire-engines  here,  for  our  water-tank  is 
up  on  a  high  hill),  and  run  races  with  other  towns, 
the  prizes  being  money,  of  course.  The  tourna- 
ments usually  last  two  or  three  days.  They  have 
coupling  contests,  too,  where  they  see  who  can  get 
water  first,  and  have  nozzle  on  far  enough  to  hold 
the  strain  of  the  water.  This  is  called  the  "  novel- 
ty coupling  contest."  The  plain  coupling  contest  is 
without  water.  They  have  to  "  break  hose,"  which 
means  to  detach  the  nozzle  from  one  end  of  the 
hose  and  attach  the  nozzle  to  the  other  end. 

DEADK-OOK,  S   D.  ETHEL   VAN   ClSE. 


1foanJ>. 

There  have  been  a  number  of  contributions  to 
the  Fund  since  our  last  acknowledgment.  The 
amounts  have  been  small,  but  every  little  helps. 
Here  are  names  of  contributors  to  date — two  weeks 
in  advance  of  the  date  of  this  issue  : 

Dorothy  and  Pinueo,  5  cents ;  Victor  R.  Gage,  $3 ; 
W.  Stowell  Wooster,  10  cents ;  George  Tempel,  10 
cents  ;  William  W.  Mursick,  10  cents  ;  Rose,  Louise, 
and  Mrs.  P.  B.  Levy,  Mignonette  Karelsou,  Hattie 
M.  lieidell,  and  Johanna  Girvius,  $1 ;  Edwin  J.  Rob. 
erts,  10  cents ;  Christine,  Ada,  and  Harry  Norris,  30 
cents  ;  Paul  Barnhart,  10  cents  ;  Ursula  Minor,  $5 ; 
Vincent  V.  M.Beede,  10  cents;  Eileen  M.  Weldon, 
10  cents;  Florence  E.  Cowan,  10  cents;  Maud  I. 
Wigfield,  10  cents  ;  Jessie  Alexander,  $1 ;  Kate  San- 
born.  10  cents;  Two  Friends,  30  cents;  Allie  and 
Julia  Russell,  20  cents  ;  Thacher  H.  Guild,  10  cents  ; 
Frederick  G.IClapp,  10  cents ;  a  member,  10  cents ; 
the  Winship  family,  50  cents ;  Mary  D.  and  Belle  A. 
Tarr,  20  cents ;  Erwin  F.  Wilson,  10  cents  ;  Charles 
E.  Abbey,  10  cents;  Tom  R.  Robinson,  10  cents; 
Chauncey  T.  Drlscol,  $1 ;  John  C.  Failing,  10  cents ; 
Traoy  French,  10  cents  ;  J.  Crispia  Bebb,  25  cents  ; 
Christina  R.  Horton,  25  cents  ;  Adella  Hooper,  10 
cents;  John  H.  Campbell,  Jun.,  10  cents;  Lyle, 
Frances,  and  H.  W.  Selby,  $1 ;  Evelyn,  Marianne, 
and  Lyle  Tate,  $1 ;  Helen  F.  Little,  10  cents  ;  Nellie 
Ilazeltine,  25  cents ;  and  Addie  Brown,  26  cents. 
Total,  $17  65. 


HARPEE'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Thi3  Department  is  comlucted  in  the  interest  of  stump  and  coin 
collectors,  and  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to  answer  any  question  on 
these  subjects  so  far  as  possible.  Correspondents  should  address  Editor 
Stamp  Department. 

SEVERAL  correspondents  have  asked  me 
aiiimt  plate  numbers  on  English  stumps, 
and  also  the  meaning  of  the  letters  in  the 
corners  of  the  same  stamps.  First,  as  to 
plate  numbers.  For  many  years  the  plate 
numbers  on  English  adhesive  stamps  were 
printed  on  the  margin  only,  hence  they  were 
cut  oft' the  imperforuted  sheets,  and  torn  ott' 
the  perforated  sheets,  and  are  as  scarce  to- 
day as  the  early  U.S.  numbers.  By  refer- 
ence to  the  one  shilling,  1865,  illustrated 
below,  the  figure  1  is  fonnd  on  either  side  of 
the  portrait.  This  signifies  that  the  stamp 
has  been  printed  on  plate  No.  1  of  the  one 
shilling.  Of  the  higher  values  few  plates 
were  required,  but  of  the  one-penny  stamp 
about  150  plates  were  necessary.  I  hope  to 


1S62. 


ENGLAND. 

give  in  an  early  number  of  the  ROUND 
TABLE  a  fairly  complete  list  of  the  English 
one-penny  stamp  varieties,  as  now  collected 
in  England.  It  will  be  very  interesting  to 
see  how  scientific  stamp-collecting  has  be- 
come. 

As  to  the  letters  in  the  angles.  The  one 
penny  and  twopenny  English  issued  in 
1840  had  letters  iu  the  lower  corners  only, 
the  fourpeuny,  sixpenny,  and  one  shilling 
had  no  letters.  In  1805  all  the  stamps  were 
issued  with  letters  iu  all  four  corners.  The 
lower  values  were  printed  in  sheets  of  240 
stamps,  the  first  stamp  bearing  the  letters 
A  B  iu  the  upper  corners,  the  next  A  C,  the 
next  A  D,  etc.  In  the  lower  corners  the 
letters  were  reversed  ;  thus  a  stamp  marked 
F  D  in  the  upper  corners  was  marked  D  F 
in  the  lower  corners.  In  the  rooms  of  the 
Philatelic  Society,  New  York,  complete 
sheets  of  the  one-penny  English  stamp  are 
to  bo  seen,  each  plate  made  up  of  240  sep- 
arate stamps.  The  labor  involved  in  making 
up  these  sheets  was  enormous,  necessita- 
ting the  examination  of  many  thousands  of 
stamps. 

B.  MAOKTSKN. — I  hope  shortly  to  print  an  article  on 
one  of  the  stamps  of  Great  Britain,  which  will  give 
a  fair  answer  to  your  questions. 

PHILATUS. 


IVORY  5oAP 

994>foo  PURE 

At  all  grocery  stores  east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  two  sizes  of  Ivory  Soap 
are  sold ;  one  that  costs  five  cents  a  cake,  and  a  larger  size.  The  larger  cake  is  the 
more  convenient  and  economical  for  laundry  and  general  household  use.  If  your 
Grocer  is  out  of  it,  insist  on  his  getting  it  for  you. 


THE  PROCTER  &  GAMBLE  Co  .  OIN-TI. 


"Napoleon" 

Handsome, 

instructive. 
One  of  the  new 

Parker 
Games 

For    Boys    and 
Girls. 

"Innocence 

Abroad." 
"  Waterloo," 
"  Chivalry," 
"  Yankee 

Doodle." 
ASK    FOR    THEM. 


CARD  PMNTCRIjjgp 

hour.    YOUcw  mS  mra^Nrith  It.    Aftjft™ 

pretty  type,  also  Indelible  Ink,  Type  Holder,  Pads 
and  TweeierB.     Beat  Linen  Marker;  worth  Jl.Oo. 
iple  nulled  FREE  for  ]0c.  stamps  for  poaUjcj  i  a 
It  uii'l  large  catalogue  of  1000  Bargains. 
B.H.Ingen,ollAiBro.  65  lortluodt  St.N.T.CIt/ 


THE     ARTISTIC    TOP, 

makes  beautiful  circles,  also  shows  the  motions  of 
the  earth.  Sent  by  mail,  postage  prepaid,  for  35c. 
Win.  I).  Hcnkel,  1214  Itaoe  St.,  Philadelphia,  P.i. 

-A.  rtocjviest.  —  Readers  of  /farmer's 
Riuiiid  Table  will  please  mention  the  paper  wheu 
answering  advertisements  contained  therein. 


SOME    NEW    BOOKS 

FOR  YOUNG   PEOPLE 


A  Life  of  Christ  for  Young  People 

In  Questions  and  Answers.      By  MARY   HASTINGS   FOOTE.      With  Map. 
Post  8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $i  25.     (Ready  October  //.) 

Snow=shoes  and  Sledges 

A  Sequel  to   "The  Fur-Seal's  Tooth."     By    KIRK   MUNROE.     Illustrated. 
Post  8vo,  Cloth.  Ornamental,  $i  2s. 

BY   THE  SAME  AUTHOR: 
The    Fur=SeaI's    Tooth.—  Raftmates.—  Canoemates.—  Campmates.—  Dory  mates. 

Each  one  volume.     Illustrated.     Post  8vo,  Cloth,  Si  25. 

Wakulla  —  The  Flamingo  Feather.—  Derrick  Sterling  —  Chrystal,  Jack   &    Co., 

and  Delta  Bixby  :   Two  Stories.     Each  one  volume.     Illustrated. 

Square  i6mo,  Cloth,  $i  oo. 

Oakleigh 

By  HLLEN  DOUGLAS   DELANO.     Illustrated.     Post  8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental. 
(Ready  early  in 


Little  Knights  and  Ladies 

Verses  for  Young  People.    By  MARGARET  E.  SANGSTER,  Author  of  "  On  the 
Road  Home,  "etc.    Illustrated.     i6mo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $i  2s. 


HARPER    &    BROTHERS,  Publishers,  New  York 


102 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


NOT  PLEASANT. 
I'M   glad  I'm    riot   a  H»I- 

lauder ; 

I  shouldn't  like  it  much 
To  have    to  learn  when  I 

would  speak 
To  say  it  all  iu  Dutch. 


THE  BABY  F.I.KPUANT  ON  RETURNING  FKOM 
HIS  OUTING  DKSIRKS  TO  LEARN  HOW  31C(JU  HK 
HAS  GAINED  IN  WEIGHT. 


Tin:  INDEX  OF  Tllr.  AIAOHINK  RKVOI.VEB  so  RAPIDLY, 

OU-ING   TO  THK   TJNUSITAL    STRAIN,    THAT    Hit    IS    UNABI.K 


TlIE     MKOUANISM     BEOOMK8     SO     1IEATKD     AS     TO 
CAUSE  THE  MACHINE  TO  BUK8T, 


A    VERY    UNSATISFACTORY  WEIGH. 


UNDER  HEAVY  EXPENSE. 

"  I  GET  an  allowance  now  of  twenty-five  cents  a  week," 
said  Jininiieboy. 

"Good!     Do  you  save  it?"  said  the  visitor. 
"No," said  Jitnmieboy.    "I  pay  it  out  iu  fines  for  being 
naughty." 

• 

ILL  LUCK. 
'  I'M  always  having  had  luck,"  said  little  Eeuheu.  "  Now 


ANECDOTES    OF    THE 
ABSENT-MINDED. 

ANOTHER  "absent- 
minded  man "  item  has 
been  received.  This  one 
refers  to  Ampere,  the  fa- 
mous mathematician,  who 
was  noted  for  his  absent- 
mindedness.  Ou  one  occa- 
sion, it  is  stated  that  while 
walking  along  the  street 
he  mistook  the  back  of  a 
cab  for  a  blackboard,  and 
as  a  blackboard  was  just 
the  thing  he  needed  at 
the  time,  to  solve  a  prob- 
lem which  had  been  vex- 
ing his  mind  for  some  mo- 
ments during  his  walk,  he 
made  use  of  it.  Taking 
a  piece  of  chalk  out  of  his 
pocket  he  proceeded  to 
trace  out  a  number  of  al- 
gebraical formula;  on  the 
cab's  back,  and  followed 
the  moving  "board"  for 
the  space  of  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  without  noticing 
the  progress  of  the  convey- 
ance. As  to  whether  the 
cabman  charged  him  by 
the  course  or  by  the  hour, 
or  even  at  all,  tbe  item 
does  not  inform  us. 

From  the  same  source 
we  have  the  following 
item  :  They  have  'a  good 
joke  just  at  present  on  a 
well  -  kuowu  lawyer  who 
is  noted  for  his  absent- 
mindedness.  He  went  up 

his  own  stairs  the  other  day,  and  seeing  a  notice  on  his 
own  door,  "  Back  at  two,"  sat  down  to  wait  for  himself. 


WlIIOH    LEAPS    TO    HIS    BEING     SU6PKOTED    OF     AN 
ATTEMPT   TO    LOOT   IT. 


TEACHER.  "  Can  any  one  explain  how  the  earth  is 
divided?" 

WILLIE  (with  reri/  important  air).  "Between  them  that's 
got  it  and  them  that  would  like  to  have  it." 


"No,  Willie  dear,"  said    mamma,    "no  more  cakes  to- 


just  because  I  knew  all  my  lessons  by  heart  to-day,  the     night.      Don't   you    know    you    cannot    sleep  on    a   full 
teacher  went  and  got  sick,  aud  wouldn't  hear  them." 


stomach  ?" 

"Well," replied  Willie,"!  can  sleep  on  my  back." 


CERTITUDE. 
WHEN  I  hang  up  the  racket, 

The  paddle,  and  bat, 
When  my  red  Tarn  o'  Shauter 

Supplauts  my  straw  hat; 
When  the  cranberry's  ripe  and 

The  turkey  is  fat, 
Thanksgiving  is  coming, 
I'm  certain  of  that ! 


FRED.  "What   does  the  grocer  do  with  the  things  he 
sells  ?" 

BEX.  "  Ties  them  up." 

FRED.  "No;  gives  them  a  weigh." 


WALTER.  "  Papa,  how  do  you  pronounce  W-o-r-c-e-s- 

t-e-r?" 

PAPA.  "Wooster." 

WALTER.  "  Well,  if  Worcester  is  pronounced  Wooster, 
why  isn't  Rochester  pronounced  Rooster  ?" 


THE   ICE  CART 
I  LOVE  to  drink  a  glass  of  milk, 

Or  cider  from  the  flagon, 
But  best  of  all  I  like  to  munch 

Cracked  ice  behind  the  wagon. 


TEACHER  (to  class  in  geography).  "Can  any  one  tell  me 
the  principal  products  of  the  Sandwich  Islands  ?" 
JOHNNIE  (confidently).  "Sandwiches." 


1024 


HARPERS 


ROUND  TABLE 


Copyrigbt,  181*5,  by  HABPKB  &  BHOTHBBS.     All  Rights 


PUBLISHED    WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI. — NO.  833. 


NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY,  OCTOBER  15,   1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO    DOLLAHS   A    YEAB. 


HARRY  BORDEN'S  NAVAL  MONSTER. 


BY    W.    J.    HENDERSON. 


IT  was  a  bright  and  beautiful  moruing  iu  June,  1927. 
The  war  between  Venezuela  ami  Euglaud  bail  beeu  in 
progress  just  three  weeks,  and  every  one  was  •wondering 
wli.y  the  big  monarchy  had  not  whipped  the  little  republic 
oil'  the  face  of  the  earth.  But  the  resources  of  the  South 
American  country  had  been  underestimated,  and  so  had 
the  immense  difficulties  which  confronted  England  in  her 
endeavor  to  carry  on  an  offensive  war  at  an  almost  inac- 
cessible distance  from  her  most  trustworthy  sources  of  sup- 
plies, ami  iu  a  climate  which  was  formidable  to  her  men. 


She  had  succeeded  in  landing  ;i  small  force  of  trained  sol- 
diers, fresh  from  her  latest  campaign  against  the  Ameer  of 
Afghanistan,  who  had  set  up  a  new  boundary-line  beyond 
Herat,  and  was  consequently  in  hot  water  with  both  Eng- 
land and  Russia. 

These  trained  Indian  curry-eaters  had  penetrated  a  vast 
forest  in  the  interior  anil  had  never  come  out,  and  it  was 
currently  reported  that  half  of  them  had  perished  in  a 
swamp,  and  the  other  half  had  beeu  destroyed  by  fevers 
and  cobras.  A  strong  fleet,  under  command  of  Vin -Ad- 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


niiral  Sir  Wallace  Bruce,  had  been  scattered  by  adverse 
winds,  anil  two  of  the  ships  had  fallen  in  with  powerful 
Venezuelan  arniov-clads,  and  had  been  most  impertinently 
sent  to  the  bottom.  Others  had  sunk  three  Venezuelan 
war-ships,  lint  the  little  republic  had  three  better  ours 
aflo.it  inside  of  a  week,  and  experts  said  that  they  looked 
very  French. 

The  war  had  broken  out  over  England's  high-handed  oc- 
cupation of  an  insignificant  island  off  the  Venezuelan  eoast. 
The  Venezuelans  had  been  amazed  by  the  proceeding,  but 
the  Marquis  of  Wintergreen.  the  Foreign  Secretary,  had  at 
once  declared  that  the  island  had  been  conquered  and  at- 
tached to  England  by  Sir  Francis  Drake  in  the  course  of 
iiis  first  voyage  to  the  West  Indies.  As  Mr.  Fronde  and 
•other  English  historians  had  proved  that  Drake  was  little 
better  than  a  pirate,  this  made  every  one  laugh,  except  the 
\Vnrzuelans,  who  said  they  were  going  to  fight  ;  and  they 
<lid.  As  soon  as  war  was  declared,  President  Roosevelt,  of 
the  United  States,  on  the  advice  of  Secretary  of  State  George 
1!.  McC'lellan,  Jun.,  called  an  extra  session  of  Congress,  and 
the  legislative  halls  at  Washington  so  rang  with  patriotic 
speeches  about  the  Monroe  Doctrine  that  the  New  York 
Sun  got  out  extras  every  two  hours,  day  and  night,  and 
had  illuminated  bulletins  covering  the  entire  front  of  the 
building.  Congress  at  length  declared  that  the  United 
States  must  net  as  an  ally  of  Venezuela,  whereupon  the 
/•>'</«  printed  itself  in  red,  white,  and  bine,  and  the  World 
despatched  correspondents  by  special  balloon  to  South 
America.  The  President  ordered  the  entire  National  Guard 
into  the  service  of  the  United  States,  and  the  various  regi- 
ments at  once  repaired  to  their  camps  of  instruction  and 
began  field  drills.  It  was  expected  that  they  would  be 
fully  equipped  and  prepared  for  service  at  the  front  in 
about  two  months.  The  naval  militia  was  also  ordered 
out,  and  immediately  began  a  series  of  cruises  alongshore 
iu  open  boats,  landing  and  sending  signals  in  every  direc- 
tion every  four  hours.  The  officers  clamored  for  coast-de- 
fense vessels  to  man,  but  there  were  only  four  such  ships, 
iind  they  were  all  in  dry  docks  undergoing  repairs  that 
would  take  three  mouths  to  complete.  The  Secretary  of 
the  Navy  issued  orders  to  Rear-Admiral  Ward  to  get  the 
North  and  South  Atlantic 'squadrons  to  the  Venezuelan 
I'oasi  as  quickly  as  possible,  and  the  Rear- Admiral  an- 
swered that  he  would  be  ready  to  sail  by  the  end  of  Au- 
gust. 

As  soon  as  the  action  of  Congress  had  been  taken,  Harry 
Bordeu,  of  Tickle  River,  went  by  express  train  to  Wash- 
ington. Iu  the  obscure  sea-coast  village  of  Tickle  River 
Harry  was  called  a  genius,  and  it  was  said  that  he  had  in- 
vented things  which  would  be  worth  millions  to  the  gov- 
ernment in  such  an  emergency  as  that  which  had  now 
arisen.  It  was  to  lay  before  the  Secretary  of  War  one  of 
these  inventions  that  the  young  man  had  gone  to  the  cap- 
ital. He  had  exhibited  a  small  working  model  of  his  con- 
trivance to  several  wealthy  men  of  his  native  State,  and 
they  had  forthwith  invented  enough  money  in  it  to  enable 
the  young  inventor  to  build  a  full-fledged  machine,  and  to 
go  to  see  the  Secretary  about  its  employment  in  the  im- 
pending conflict.  Harry  Borden  was  a  good  talker,  but  he 
could  not  talk  the  government  of  the  United  States  into 
prompt  action. 

"  My  dear  young  friend,"  said  the  Secretary,  "  I  am  sure 
that  your  invention  \\ill  pro\e  of  inestimable  value  to  the 
United  States  in  time  of  war." 

••  It's  the  time  of  war  now,  isn't  it  ?"  said  Harry. 

"Yes,  yes,  to  be  sure;  but  this  is  a  matter  which  must 
be  laid  before  Congress,  and  a  bill  must  be  introduced  re- 
garding it.  I  should  advise  you  to  see  the  Congressman 
from  your  district  about  that.  I  will  give  you  a  letter  to 
him  saying  that  I  heartily  approve  of  your  machine." 

"But,  sir,  while  all  this  is  going  on  we  are  losing  valu- 
able time.  My  machine  ought  to  be  down  there  damaging 
the  eiiein\ 

••Really,  my  dear  young  friend,  yon  must  allow  tilings 
to  take  their  course." 

"  Why  can't  you  give  me  permission  to  go  ahead  on  my 
own  hook  ?" 

"Embark   in   private  warfare?     Privateering  is  out    of 


date,  my  young  friend.  But,  ah — urn — I  may  say  that — ah 
— if  you  should  go  down  there'  and  succeed  in  indicting 
serious  damage  on  the  British  fleet,  I  think — mind,  I  say 
only  that  I  think- -the  government  would,  ignore  the  ir- 
regularity of  the  proceeding." 

"That's  enough  for  me,"  said  Harry,  springing  to  his 
feet.  "If  my  hackers  will  consent.  I'll  be  there  in  less  than 
a  week  ;  ami.  mark  my  word.  sir.  you'll  hear  of  my  machine 
down  there,  sir." 

And  before  the  astonished  Secretary  could  say  more, 
Harry  Borden  had  bounded  from  the  room. 

The  British  cruiser  Ajn.r  III.  was  steaming  at  a  speed 
of  ten  knots  through  the  bine  waters  of  the  Caribbean 
Sea.  She  had  been  carrying  certain  despatches  of  grave 
importance  from  Vice-Admiral  Sir  Wallace  Bruce  to  the 
liovernor  of  Jamaica,  and  was  now  returning  in  a  leisurely 
manner,  which  told  of  economy  in  the  coal  department. 
The  Ajaf  III.  was  an  armored  cruiser  of  about  liOOO  tons. 
She  carried  armor  eight  inches  thick  on  lief  sides,  and  had 
a  steel  protective  deck  four  inches  thick.  Her  main  bat- 
tery consisted  of  four  improved  Smith -Dodge-Hopkins 
8-inch  rapid-firing  breech-loaders,  capable  of  discharging 
four  of  the  new  steel-iridinm  conical  projectiles  every  min- 
ute, with  a  point-blank  range  of  two  miles,  and  an  initial 
velocity  of  3000  feet  per  second.  Her  secondary  battery 
consisted  of  six  4-inch  revolving  guns,  discharging  seventy 
shells  a  minute  when  operated  by  electricity.  The  cruiser 
had  the  new  compound  quintuple  engines,  capable  of  driv- 
ing her  twenty-six  knots  an  hour  nuclei1  forced  draught. 
On  the  whole,  she  was  regarded  as  a  fairly  efficient  vessel, 
though  some  of  the  leading  British  critics  declared  that 
she  belonged  to  a  type  that  was  fast  becoming  obso- 
lete. 

She  was  moving  gently  and  steadily  through  the  water. 
The  sun  was  shining  brightly,  and  his  gleaming  rays  made 
sparkling  light  along  the  cruiser's  polished  brass-work  and 
on  the  brown  chases  of  her  long  slender  guns.  Captain 
Dudley  Fawkes  was  pacing  the  after-bridge  in  conversa- 
tion with  his  Executive  Officer,  Commander  Bilton-Brooks, 
and  Lieutenant  Sir  Edward  Avon  was  the  officer  of  the 
watch  on  the  main  bridge. 

"  I  don't  believe,"  said  Captain  Fawkes,  "  that  the  United 
States  means  seriously  to  take  a  hand  in  this  tight." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  responded  Commander  Bil- 
ton-Brooks. "Congress  has  taken  action,  aud  the  Presi- 
dent has  called  out  troops." 

"True  enough,"  rejoined  the  Captain,  "  but  that  does 
not  necessarily  mean  anything.  Yon  know  the  navy  must 
be  the  aggressive  force,  and  we  have  yet  to  see  an  Ameri- 
can ship  afloat  in  these  waters." 

"That  is  quite  true,"  said  the  Executive  Officer;  "yet, 
for  the  life  of  me, I  can't  help  feeling  that  there  is  mischief 
of  some  sort  in  the  air." 

The  Executive  Officer's  words  were  more  nearly  correct 
than  even  he  suspected,  for  at  that  very  instant  the  two 
lookouts  iu  the  foretop  were  puzzling  their  eyes  and  brains 
to  make  out  a  strange  object  which  had  appeared  on  the 
lee  beam.  While  they  were  watching  it,  it  dropped  from 
the  air,  where  it  had  seemed  to  be  floating,  and  rested  on 
the  bosom  of  the  sea,  where  it  presently  resolved  itself  into 
a  cutter-yacht  some  sixty  feet  in  length. 

"It  were  a  bloom  in'  mirage,  Bill,"  said  one  lookout  to 
the  other,  as  he  lifted  his  voice  and  bawled,  "  Sail,  ho  !" 

"Where  away?"  came  the  quick  demand  from  the  bridge. 

"  On  our  lee  beam,  sir,"  answered  the  man.  "  Looks  like 
a  cutter-yacht,  sir." 

Now  in  the  year  1927  a  cutter-yacht  was  something  of  a 
curiosity,  for  electricity  had  supplanted  sail-power  for  small 
craft,  and  vessels  propelled  by  canvas  were  rare  indeed. 
The  cutter-yacht  seen  from  the  decks  of  the  Ajus  HI.  was 
on  the,  port  tack,  close  hauled  and  heading  so  as  to  intei- 
cept  the  cruiser's  course,  provided  she  had  speed  enough, 
which  was  wholly  unlikely.  She  was  under  full  canvas, 
and  though  the  breeze  was  very  light,  she  slipped  through 
the  smooth  water  at  an  amaziug  speed.  This  fact  dawned 
on  the  minds  of  the  Captain  and  his  Executive  Officer  at 
the  same  time. 


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HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


'•  She  must  Lave  an  auxiliary  electric  screw,"  said  Com- 
mander Bil  ton -Brooks. 

"  I  fancy  so."  said  the  Captain.  "  Owned  by  some  fellnw 
•who  likes  to  think  lie's  sailing,  but  has  no  patience  with 
light  breezes.  It's  rather  curious,  though,  that  he  should 
be  eriiising  in  these  waters  at  a  time  like  this,  isn't  it  ?" 

"It  certainly  is,"  answered  the  Executive  Officer.  "I 
don't  see  any  flag — do  yon.  sir  .'" 

"  No.  I  rather  fancy  I  shall  Lave  to  overhaul  this  yacht, 
and  make  her  skipper  give  an  account  of  her.  There's  a 
mysterious  air  about  her  tLat  I  don't  half  like." 

But  it  was  a  good  deal  easier  to  talk  about  overhauling 
the  cutter  than  it  was  to  do  it.  The  yacht's  sails,  which 
•were  made  of  some  extremely  light  material,  like  Chinese 
silk  in  appearance,  were  drawing  powerfully,  and  her  elec- 
tric motor — if  it  really  was  electric — was  doing  astound- 
ing work.  The  yacht  flashed  through  the  water  like  some 
great  fish,  and  so  fine  were  her  lines  that  she  left  hardly  a 
bubble  in  her  wake.  The  Captain  of  the  Ajax  III.  gave 
orders  to  increase  the  speed  of  the  cruiser,  and  presently 
the  quick  throbbiug  of  her  engines  aud  the  vibrations  of 
her  hull  told  that  she  was  tearing  across  the  long  swells  at 
&  25-knot  speed.  But  still  the  cutter-yacht  flew  along,  and 
it  was  evident  that  she  would  pass  across  the  cruiser's  bow 
if  both  held  their  courses. 

'•  We  must  stop  her  lively  skipping,"  said  Captain  Dudley 
Fawkes,  aud  he  gave  orders  to  souud  the  call  to  quarters. 
The  l.ugle  rang  out,  and  the  hearty  British  tars  jumped  to 
their  stations. 

"Cast  loose  aud  provide!"  ordered  Commander  Biltou- 
Brooks. 

The  ammunition  hoists  slipped  noiselessly  upward  bear- 
ing the  steel -iridium  shells  for  the  8-inch  guns,  and  the 
electric  chains  hauled  up  the  70-pouuders  for  the  secondary 
battery.  In  forty-five  seconds  the  ship  was  ready  to  fight, 
and  the  order  was  given  to  train  all  forward  guns  on  the 
cutter  and  stand  by  for  orders.  Then  the  Captain  and  his 
KM mtive  Officer  turned  their  glasses  once  more  on  the 
cutter. 

"What  on  earth  is  she  up  to  now?"  exclaimed  the 
Captain. 

"  Taking  in  sail — and  spars,  too!"  cried  Commander  Bil- 
ton-Brooks. 

It  was  true.  Not  only  had  the  strange  cutter  let  all  Ler 
thin  sails  run  down,  but  she  seemed  to  have  folded  up  her 
mast,  boom,  gaff,  aud  bowsprit  in  some  strange  way  aud 
stowed  them  out  of  sight. 

"  Has  she  shown  any  flag  yet  ?"  asked  the  Captain. 
••  None  that  I  Lave  seen, "answered  tLe  Executive  Officer. 
"  Then  I'll  wager  a  month's  pay  that  she's  some  Yankee 
invention,"  declared  Captain  Dudley  Fawkes. 

"What  in  the  world  are  they  doing  now  ?"said  the  Ex- 
ecutive Officer. 

A  strange  misshapen  mass  was  rising  above  the  bulwarks 
of  the  cutter  with  surprising  swiftness. 
''It's  a  balloon  !"  exclaimed  the  Captain. 
"  Hadn't  we  better  open  fire  on  her  ?"  asked  the  Execu- 
tive Officer. 

"Not  yet.  I  tLink  we'd  better  get  close  enough  to  hail 
her  first,"  answered  the  Captain.  "Slie  may  not  be  any- 
thing more  than  a  pleasure  craft,  you  know." 

The  balloon  was  inflated  by  this  time,  and  was  tugging 
at  the  heavy  steel  hawsers  by  which  it  was  attached  to  the 
•cutter's  hull.  A  cry  of  surprise  broke  from  the  crew  of  the 
British  cruiser. 

"Look!  look!     She's  going  up!" 

The  great  balloon,  inflated  with  the  newly  discovered 
gas,  mercurite,  the  lightest  aud  most  powerful  of  all  known 
gases,  was  lifting  the  cutter  bodily  into  the  air.  Her 
curiously  shaped  Lull,  modelled  after  a  shark's  body,  aud 
equipped  with  a  fin-keel  for  sailing  on  the  wind,  was  now 
fully  revealed.  At  the  same  instant  a  United  States  eusign 
was  waved  over  her  stern  by  a  young  man. 

"  Mr.  Curtis."  called  the  Captain,  who  had  not  thought  it 
necessary  yet  to  euter  the  couniug-tower,  "give  Lim  a  taste 
of  your  metal." 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir,"  answered  the  Lieutenant  in  command  of 
the  forward  8-inch  guns. 


TLe  next  instant  there  was  a  terrific  concussion,  and  one 
of  the  big  sheHs  went  screaming  toward  the  cutter:  lint 
she  was  rising  so  fast  that  the  projectile  passed  under  ln-i. 
and  plunged  foaming  into  the  sea  a  mile  away. 

••  More  elevation,  sir," cried  the  Executive  Officer. 

"Impossible!"  answered  Lieutenant  Cortis ;  "we're  too 
close  to  her,  and  the  angle  is  too  high." 

"Look  at  her  now!"  exclaimed  the  Captain.  "  SLe's  rush- 
ing toward  us!" 

'•Sailing  against  the  wind  with  a  balloon  !"  cried  Com- 
mander Bilton-Brooks. 

The  shark-bodied  cutter,  with  her  fin-keel  below  and  her 
balloon  above,  was  indeed  now  moving  toward  a  position 
above  the  cruiser. 

"  Call  away  the  riflemen  !"  cried  the  Captain. 

The  red-coated  marines  assembled  on  the  superstructures, 
aud  began  a  rapid  tire  at  the  balloon,  hoping  to  burst  it. 
But  their  bullets  simply  glanced  off  the  fine  steel  netting 
with  which  it  was  protected.  Now  the  head  of  the  young 
man  once  again  appeared  above  the  bulwarks  of  the  strange 
machine,  and  he  took  a  rapid  glance  at  the  British  ship. 
The  next  instant  a  small  port  in  the  cutter's  side  opened, 
and  from  it  dropped  a  glass  globe  about  half  the  size  of  a 
football.  TLe  globe  fell  upon  the  forward  deck  of  the 
cruiser.  There  was  an  appalling  explosion,  aud  the  whole 
forecastle  of  the  Jjax  III.  became  a  hopeless  wreck.  An- 
other globe  was  hurled  with  such  fatal  accuracy  that,  it  fell 
down  one  of  the  smoke-stacks  of  the  now  helpless  vessel. 
There  was  a  roar  as  of  thunder  away  down  in  Ler  engine- 
room,  and  pale-faced  men  poured  on  deck. 

"We're  sinking!  The  ship's  bottom  is  blown  out!"  they 
cried.  There  was  a  wild  rush  to  lower  away  the  boats.  A 
few  minutes  later  the  J /'«.>•  111.  sank  out  of  sight  under  tLe 
blue  waters  of  tLe  Caribbean  Sea.  and  Harry  Bordeu,  with 
his  balloon  stowed  and  his  canvas  spread  again,  was  sail- 
ing away  with  a  few  survivors  of  the  ill-fated  cruiser  in 
his  strange  invention  in  search  of  more  British  cruisers.  A 
month  later  the  war  was  over. 


THE  BILBERRY  SCHOOL  EXHIBITION. 

BY  SOPHIE  SWETT. 

SIMPSY  JUDKINS  was  to  "speak  a  piece,"  aud  Viola 
Treddick  to  read  an  original  composition  ;  there  was 
to  be  a  glee  sung  by  picked  voices  from  the  first  class — it 
was  all  about  the  deep  blue  sky,  aud  ':  the  sky,  the  sky,  the 
sky,"  was  repeated  in  a  very  thrilling  and  effective  man- 
ner ;  and  Tom  Burtis  was  to  display  his  powers  as  a  light- 
ning calculator.  The  exhibition  was  to  be  given  in  the  new 
Town-hall,  aud  not  only  would  all  Bilberry  be  there,  but  a 
crowd  of  people  from  the  adjacent  towns  as  well,  to  say 
nothing  of  teachers  and  pupils  from  the  Normal  School  at 
Cocheco  ;  for  the  Bilberry  Hill  School  exhibitions  had  ac- 
quired a  reputation. 

In  the  Treddick  family  the  girls  had  been  obliged 
to  take  the  family  burden  upon  their  shoulders.  When 
Father  Treddick  died,  somewhat  less  than  a  mouth  after 
Mother  Treddick,  turning  his  face  to  the  wall,  and  saying 
that  she  had  been  his  backbone  and  Lis  underpinnin',  and 
he  couldn't  live  without  her  (it  sometimes  happens  that 
way  in  spite  of  Mother  Nature),  the  rocks  still  had  the  up- 
per hands  on  the  little  farm,  and  Amasa,tLe  only  boy, 
was  but  eleven.  Lizette,  who  was  fifteen,  went  to  work 
in  the  stocking  factory.  Every  one  thought  it  was  a  pity, 
because  Lizette  was  fond  of  books  and  had  meant  to  be  a 
teacher;  she  was  slight  and  delicate,  too,  and  work  in  the 
stocking  factory  was  hard.  But  Lizette  believed  in  doing 
"  not  what  ye  would,  but  what  you  may."  with  just  as  good 
a  will  as  if  it  were  the  former.  Some  people  said  sLe  had 
taken  warning  by  her  father's  example;  he  had  always 
been  trying  to  invent  something  in  his  queer  little  work- 
shop that  was  the  wood-shed  chamber:  that  was  why  the 
rocks  had  not  been  gotten  out  of  the  farm. 

It  was  Viola  who  was  now  spoken  of  as  a  remarkably 
fine  scholar,  just  as  Lizette  had  been  before  she  went  into 
the  factory  ;  she  was  not  yet  sixteen,  but  she  Loped  !• 
the  Pine  Bank  School  to  teach  in  September.     There  were 


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HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


several  other  candidates,  all  older  than  she,  but  Viola  was 
at  the  head  of  her  class,  and  that  original  composition 
which  she  was  to  road  at  the  exhibition  was  expected  to 
make  an  impression  upon  the  committee-men.  The  teacher 
had  said  to  several  people  that  it  was  really  a  remarkable 
production  for  a  girl  of  Viola's  age,  and  the}'  thought  a 
great  deal  of  literary  gifts  in  Bilberry. 

Lizette  was  very  proud  of  Viola,  and  so,  indeed,  was 
Amasa,  who  was  fourteen  now,  but  whose  name  was  not  on 
the  programme  at  all.  To  tell  the  painful  truth  at  once, 
although  Amasa  keenly  felt  the  especial  need  there  was 
that  he  should  be  "smart,"  although  he  tried  his  best  to 
be  the  man  of  the  family  in  a  satisfactory  sense,  yet  he  was 
at  the  very  foot  of  his  class;  fractions  floored  him,  and  he 
had  a  hazy  idea  that  Timbuctoo  was  out  West,  and  that 
Captain  John  Smith  discovered  America.  When  it  came 
to  chopping  wood,  Amasa  was  pretty  sure  to  cut  his  toe,  and 
if  he  went  fishing  he  tumbled  into  the  pond.  And  he 
couldn't  get  "jobs,"  like  Cosy  Priugle,  the  hoy  in  the  next 
house,  who  had  money  in  the  bank. 

Cosy  Pringle  boasted  that  he  always  "came  out  top  of 
the  heap"  ;  but  some  people  thought  he  was  too  "smart." 

When  the  exhibition  day  came,  although  Simpsy  Jud- 
kius  had  been  announced  to  "speak  a  piece,"  it  was  Cosy 
Pringle  who  spoke  it ;  there  was  a  report  that  he  had  hired 
Simpsy  to  have  a  sore  throat.  Simpsy  had  oratorical  gifts, 
but  he  did  not  feel  the  advantages  of  appearing  in  public 
and  having  his  name  in  the  paper,  as  Cosy  did.  Cosy  held 
the  second  rank  in  declamation,  so  Sirnpsy's  sore  throat 
gave  him  an  opportunity  to  be  heard.  He  wasn't  second 
in  his  class;  he  came  sympathiziugly  near  to  Amasa  there  ; 
but  he  had  carefully  weighed  opinions — which  he  some- 
times confided  to  Amasa — concerning  the  amount  of  study 
that  "  paid." 

Mother  Nature  provided  one  of  her  loveliest  days,  as  she 
is  apt  to  do  for  school  exhibitions  in  June.  The  girls,  in 
fleecy  muslin  clouds,  were  so  much  iu  evideuce  that  the 
boys,  iu  the  background,  were  only  a  little  hampered  by 
the  embarrassment  of  full  dress.  Cosy  Priugle  wasn't 
hampered  at  all;  he  wore  his  grandfather's  large  gold 
chain  and  his  sister  Amanda's  mooustoue  ring,  and  felt  that 
he  ought  to  attract  as  much  attention  as  the  girls. 

Cosy's  voice  was  a  little  thin  and  sharp,  but  he  recited 
one  of  Macaulay's  lays  with  a  great  deal  of  "  r-r-rolliug 
drum"  very  well  indeed,  having  been  thoroughly  coached 
by  his  sister  Amanda  and  the  young  minister  to  whom 
Amanda  was  going  to  be  married. 

But  beyond  a  little  mild  clapping,  the  recitation  received 
no  attention  whatever,  while  Viola  Treddick's  composition 
was,  as  the  Bilberry  Beacon  reported,  received  with  the 
greatest  enthusiasm.  It  was  ou  "  School-girl  Friendships," 
and  there  was  some  real  fun  in  it ;  and  once  iu  a  while  it 
was  pathetic,  or,  at  all  events,  the  audience  laughed  and 
cried,  and  they  couldn't  really  do  that,  as  Cosy  averred 
they  did,  because  they  liked  Viola.  It  closed  with  a  verse 
of  original  poetry,  and  Bilberry  began  to  feel  sure  that  a 
great  poet  was  to  arise  iu  its  midst. 

Lizette  stopped  and  hugged  Amasa  behiud  a  juniper- 
tree  ou  the  way  home  from  the  exhibition.  Viola  had 
staid  to  a  spread  that  was  giveu  to  the  pupils  and  their 
friends  ;  Lizette  Lad  to  hurry  back  to  her  work  in  the  fac- 
tory ;  and  Amasa  had  felt  that  he  did  not  shine  in  society. 
Amasa  could  not  remember  ever  to  have  seen  Lizette  cry 
for  joy  before  ;  she  was  not  one  of  the  crying  kind,  anyway. 

"  She'll  have  a  chance  !  Viola  will  have  a  chance  !  She'll 
get  the  Pine  Bank  School,"  she  said,  rapturously.  "  I've 
been  so  afraid  she  would  have  to  go  into  the  factory." 

Amasa  realized  suddenly  how  hard  life  was  for  Lizette. 
Her  delicate  hands  were  calloused  and  knobby,  and  her 
shoulders  beut ;  she  looked  wistfully  at  the  library  books, 
and  never  had  time  to  read ;  she  knew  that  she  wasn't 
strong,  and  she  was  anxious  about  their  future — Viola's 
aud  his. 

It  was  the  very  next  uight,  as  Amasa  was  going  to  bed, 
that  Cosy  Pringle  came  under  his  window  aud  called  to 
him.  Amasa  went  down  aud  unfastened  the  door,  aud 
Cosy  followed  him  up  stairs. 

He  seemed  excited  aud  nervous,  and  kept  saying  "  'Sh !" 


though  there  was  no  one  stirring  in  the  house.  But  it  wa* 
like  Cosy  to  have  some  mysterious  scheme  ou  foot.  Amasa 
thought  that  hr  had  at  last  discovered  lion-  Pember  Tib- 
brtts  made  his  musk-rat  traps,  or  guessed  the  conundrum 
in  the  Count//  Clarion,  for  which  intellectual  feat  a  prize  of 
five  dollars  was  ottered.  Or  perhaps  he  had  secured  the 
job  of  weeding  Mr.  Luke  Motion's  ouiou  bed  aud  hoeing  his 
string-beans ;  last  year  he  was  paid  three  dollars  for  the 
job,  aud  hired  Amasa  to  do  the  work  for  seventy-five  cents. 
Amasa  stoutly  resolved  not  to  be  the  victim  of  Cosy's  sharp 
business  methods  this  year. 

But  Cosy's  shrewd  gray  eyes  had  a  twinkle  that  meant 
more  than  onion-weeding  or  any  "jobs." 

"That  was  an  awful  nice  composition  that  your  sister 
wrote,"  he  said,  iu  an  easy,  complimentary  manner. 

Amasa  nodded,  brightening;  it  was  more  like  Cosy  to 
make  a  fellow  feel  small  about  his  sisters  and  all  his  pos- 
sessions. 

"Folks  are  sayiug  that  she'll  get  the  Pine  Bank  School, 
if  Elkauah  Rice,  that's  school  committee,  does  waut  it  for 
his  niece.  A  good  thing,  too,  for  Lizette  is  pretty  well 
worn  out  taking  care  of  you  all."  Cosy  wagged  his  head 
with  great  solemuity.  "Aunt  Lucretia  said  she  shouldn't 
be  surprised  if  she  got  consumptive,  like  her  mother,  if 
she  worked  too  hard." 

Amasa's  heart  seemed  to  stop  beating,  aud  a  choking 
lump  came  into  his  throat. 

"But  Viola  Ml  get  the  school  fast  enough,"  continued 
Cosy,  "if — if  folks  don't  find  out  that  she  copied  the  com- 
position." 

"Copied  the  composition !"  Amasa's  brows  came  togeth- 
er iu  a  fierce  scowl,  aud  he  arose  from  the  side  of  the  bed 
where  he  was  sitting,  and  advanced  upon  Cosy  with  a 
threatening  gesture. 

"Now  just  look  here  before  you  go  to  making  a  turkey- 
cock  of  yourself,"  said  Cosy,  drawiug  a  newspaper  from  his 
pocket.  "  I  happened  to  go  down  to  Gilead  this  afternoon 
to  swap  roosters  with  Uncle  Hiram — made  him  throw  in 
a  pullet  and  a  watering-pot  because  my  rooster  had  a 
bigger  top-knot  than  his.  There  was  a  pile  of  newspapers 
in  the  wood-shed,  aud  I  went  to  get  one  to  wrap  up  some 
things  that  Aunt  M'lissy  was  sendin'  to  mother,  aud  I  came 
across  this.  'School-girl  Friendships'  caught  my  eye.  See! 
it's  signed  'Lilla  Carryl.'  Auut  M'lissy  said  she  believed 
'twas  a  girl  over  to  Gilead  Ridge.  That  paper  is  two  years 
old  now,  and  Gilead  being  ten  miles  away,  I  suppose  Viola 
thought  nobody  would  ever  find  her  out!" 

"She  never  did  such  a  thing!  Don't  you  dare  say  she 
did!"  cried  Amasa,  hoarsely. 

But  there  it  was  iu  black  aud  white ;  there  it  was  word 
for  word.  Ainasa  kuew  every  word  of  Viola's  composition, 
he  had  been  so  proud  of  it.  Cosy  whistled  softly,  with  his 
hands  in  his  pockets,  as  Amasa  ran  his  eye  over  "School- 
girl Friendships." 

"  There's  some  mistake,"  faltered  Amasa.  "  Viola  is  the 
honestest  girl." 

Cosy's  whistling  ended  in  a  sharp,  expressive,  little  cres- 
cendo squeak.  "  There's  no  telliug  what  girls  will  do,"  he 
said,  sagely.  "When  folks  know  it,  why,  Elkauah  Rice's 
niece  will  be  pretty  apt  to  get  the  Pine  Bank  School, 
aud  I'm  kind  of 'fraid  Viola  '11  have  to  take  a  back  seat  al- 
together. It'll  come  hard  on  Lizette." 

Cosy  folded  the  Gilead  Gleaner,  aud  thrust  it  firmly  aud 
impressively  into  his  pocket.  Amasa  had  been  acquainted 
with  Cosy  Priugle  siuce  they  were  both  in  long  clothes,  and 
he  understood  that  that  paper  had  its  price.  If  he  could 
pay  the  price,  why,  eveu  Lizette  need  never  kuow  ! 

"I  suppose  it's  my  duty  to  show  this  paper,"  said  Cosy, 
with  an  air  of  unflinching  virtue,  "but  still,  amongst  old 
friends,  and  if  you'll  do  a  little  good  turn  for  me  that  you 
cau  do  as  well  as  not,  why,  I'll  just  chuck  the  paper  into  the 
fire,  aud  agree  not  to  tell  anybody,  aud  we'll  call  it  square. 
I  ain't  a  mean  feller." 

Amasa's  heart  thrilled  with  hope.  What  was  the  good 
tifru  that  he  would  not  do  for  Cosy  on  those  terms?  He 
thought  of  his  fan-tailed  pigeons,  aud  of  his  dog  Trip  ou 
whom  Cosy  had  always  had  his  eye  because  he  could  do  so 
many  tricks;  it  would  be  an  awful  wrench  to  part  with 


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Trip,  but  to  save  Viola  from  disgrace  he  would  not  hesi- 
tate. 

"I  only  want  to  go  into  your  wood-shed  chamber  for  a 
few  minutes.  There's  —  there's  something  there  that  I 
waut  to  see.  If  you'll  let  me,  why,  nobody  shall  ever 
know  about  Viola's  cheating." 

"It's  father's  old  workshop;  there's  nothing  there," 
Aiuasa  said.  "  Nobody  ever  goes  near  it  hut  Lizette." 

Cosy  hesitated  a  little,  then  he  decided  that  it  would  be 
as  well  to  be  more  frank ;  Amasa  was  so  stupid.  "  She's 
up  to  something,  Lizette  is,"  he  said,  in  an  impressive 
whisper.  "I've  seen  a  light  burning  in  that  workshop 
half  the  night!  She's  trying  to  make  an  improvement  on 
the  knitting-machine  that  they  use  in  the  factory.  Of 
course  she  can't  do  it — a  girl ! — but  you'd  better  look  out  or 
it  will  kill  her,  just  as  it  killed  your  father.  How  do  I 


Amasa  spent  three  miserable  days,  filling  the  wood-box  so 
assiduously  that  Viola  asked  him  if  he  thought  she  was 
going  to  bake  for  the  County  Conference,  and  hoeing  the 
string-beans,  until  Lizette  was  tenderly  sure  that  his  back 
ached,  and  advised  him  to  go  tishing. 

But  a  1 10  may  have  troubles  of  the  mind  which  even 
fishing  cannot  cure. 

Lizette  came  home  from  her  work  with  a  radiant  face 
ou  the  third  day.  "  Amasa,  how  came  you  to  let  Cosy 
Pringle  go  into  the  work-shop?"  she  exclaimed.  "But  I 
can't  scold  you,  it  has  turned  out  so  beautifully  !  I  have 
been  trying  a  little  invention — oh,  for  a  long  time!  I 
never  thought  it  could  really  succeed  !"  Lizette  looked  as 
fresh  aud  bright  as  if  all  the  work  and  care  had  been  a 
dream.  "Cosy  saw  it  and  told  Thad  Norcross.  It  seems 
he  and  Thad  had  been  trying  to  do  the  same  sort  of  thing 


•VIOLA;   AMASA:   IIE  SAYS  IT  MAY  BIS  WORTH  A  GKEAT  DEAL  OF  MONEY:" 


know  what  she's  doing  .'  She  told  Emily  Norcross" — Emily 
Norcross  was  the  daughter  of  the  owner  of  the  factory — 
'•  and  Emily  told  Thad.  Thad  and  I  been  trying  too.  We've 
got  things  fixed  now  so'st  we  expect  to  get  a  patent.  What 
I  waut  to  see  is  whether  she's  got  anything  that's  likely  to 
interfere  with  us ;  of  course  she  hasn't  really,  but  then  girls 
think  they  can." 

Amasa  felt  desperately  that  this  was  too  great  a  problem 
to  suddenly  coufrout  a  fellow  like  him  whom  every  one  knew 
to  be  stupid.  It  seemed  a  trifle,  but  Cosy  Priugle  would 
want  nothing  but  a  good  bargain.  Still,  there  was  no  other 
way  ;  disgrace  to  Viola  would  mean,  heart-break  to  Lizette. 

"Give  me  the  paper,"  he  said,  gruffly,  and  thrusting  it 
into  his  pocket,  he  led  the  way  softly  through  the  corridor 
to  the  wood-shed  chamber. 

Cosy  was  breathlessly  eager  over  some  queer  bits  of  ma- 
chinery which  Amasa  could  not  understand.  He  staid  but 
a  few  miuutes,  as  he  had  promised,  but  he  stammered  with 
excitement  when  he  weut  away. 


— mere  boys' play,  of  course — andThad  told  his  father.  Mr. 
Norcross  will  help  me  to  get  a  patent!  Viola!  Atnasa!  He 
says  it  may  be  worth  a  great  (leal  of  money  !" 

Lizette  and  Viola  were  crying  for  joy;  but  Amasa  could 
think  only  of  the  horror  of  Viola's  disgrace,  for  now,  of 
course,  Cosy  Priugle  would  tell. 

'•You  won't  think  anything  now  of  my  little  triumph," 
said  Viola,  when  they  had  calmed  down  a  little  and  sat 
down  to  supper.  '"School-girl  Friendships'  is  to  he  pub- 
lished in  full  in  the  Bilberry  Beacon  next  Saturday,  with 
my  own  name  signed  it — not  Lilla  Carry!,  as  I  signed  it  two 
years  ago,  when  I  sent  it  to  the  Gilead  (I leaner.  Oh,  what 
a  flutter  I  was  in  then!  aud  I  never  dared  to  let  a  soul 
kuow  it !  The  editor  of  the  Beacon  made  me  write  a  foot- 
note, telling  all  about  it." 

"I'm  an  awful  jackass,"  said  Amasa,  his  voice  gruft  with 
joy  anil  shume. 

"  You're  the  dearest  boy  in  the  world,"  said.  Lizette. 
"  But  I  don't  waut  you  to  associate  with  Cosy  Priugle." 


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SEA     RANGERS. 

BY     KIRK     M  U  N  R  O  E, 

AUTHOR  OF  "  ROAD  RANGERS,"  THE  "MATE"  SERIES, 
"  SXOW-SHOES  AND  SLEDGES,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER    V. 
OVERBOAIiD   GO   THE   HANGERS. 

"  /~"1  REAT  SCOTT!  Cal's  overboard!"  cried  Will  Rogers, 
\JT  as  lie  caught  a  twinkling'  glimpse  of  a  pair  of  rubber- 
boots  disappearing  over  the  sloop's  bow.  With  the  young 
Captain  of  the  Rangers  to  think  was  also  to  act.  Tims, 
even  as  he  spoke  he  tore  oft'  his  jacket,  sprang  to  the  vessel's 
side,  and  clove  into  the  shining  waters.  He  knew  that  Cal 
could  swim  a  little,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  but  he 
dreaded  the  dragging  weight  of  those  rubber  boots,  and  also 
feared  that  the  boy  might  be  struck  and  injured  by  the 
vessel  as  she  passed  over  him. 

Apparently  every  other  Ranger  on  board  thought  the 
same  thoughts,  and  was  actuated  by  the  belief  that  it  was 
Iris  duty  to  rescue  Cal  Moody ;  for,  even  as  Will  Rogers 
sprang  overboard,  all  of  them  but  one  followed  him  like  a 
flock  of  sheep,  and  in  another  moment  the  river  behind  the 
now  swiftly  moving  sloop  was  dotted  with  the  heads  of 
swimming  boys.  The  one  Ranger  who  had  not  leaped  into 
the  water  was  Abe  Cruger,  who,  realizing  the  impossibility 
of  swimming  in  his  "  Bill  Bullseye  "  garments,  contented 
himself  with  tumbling  into  the  boat  that  towed  astern  and 
casting  her  loose.  As  this  boat  contained  but  a  single 
long  oar,  being  only  fitted  for  sculling,  and  as  Abe  had 
never  acquired  that  style  of  navigation,  he  found  himself 
about  as  helpless  in  his  new  position  as  lie  would  have 
been  in  the  water,  and  could  only  shout  impracticable  ad- 
vice to  the  swimmers  about  him. 

All  these  things  happened  with  such  bewildering  rapidity 
as  to  completely  paralyze  poor  Captain  Grotty,  and  the 
sloop  shot  ahead  several  hundred  feet  before  he  recovered 
his  senses  sufficiently  to  again  throw  her  head  into  the 
wind,  and  thus  check  her  progress.  Young  Jabe  was  below 
starting  a  tire  in  the  galley  stove,  and  knew  nothing  of 
what  was  taking  place  until  summoned  on  deck  by  his 
father's  shouts. 

"Trim  in  the  jib!  Trim  in  quick!  Now  bear  a  hand 
with  this  mainsail!  Haul  her  flat!  There,  steady!"  or- 
dered Captain  Grotty,  and  as,  close  hauled  on  the  wind,  thr 
sloop  began  slowly  to  work  her  way  back  toward  the  drift- 
ing boat,  young  Jabe  for  the  tirst  time  realized  that,  save 
for  his  father  and  himself,  there  was  not  a  soul  aboard  the 
•vessel. 

"  What's  happened  I"  he  almost  gasped. 

"Don't  ask  me,"  replied  the  other,  "for  I  don't  know. 
All  I  do  know  is  that  them  boys  is  stark  raving  lunatics 
every  last  one  of 'em,  and  if  I  get  'em  back  here  again  I'll 
head  'em  for  their  homes  quick  as  ever  the  good  Lord  '11 
let  rue.  I  never  kuowed  what  a  fool  I  could  be  till  I  under- 
took the  managing  of  a  passel  of  crazy  boys  off  on  a  lark. 
Now  I  don't  expect  nothing  else  but  that  the  half  of  'em  '11 
be  drowned,  and  I'll  be  held  responsible.  Sarve  me  right 
too !" 

By  this  time  all  the  swimmers  had  collected  about  the 
boat  containing  Abe  Cruger.  and,  holding  on  to  its  gun- 
wales, were  pushing  it  slowly  in  the  direction  of  the  sloop. 
Its  sole  occupant  stood  on  a  thwart,  gazing  anxiously  over 
the  rippling  waters. 

"Don't  you  see  anything?  Not  a  sign  ?"  inquired  one 
and  another,  anxiously. 

"No,  fellows;  I  can't  make  out  so  much  as  a  bubble," 
was  the  hopeless  reply. 

"Oh,  it's  awful!"  groaned  Will  Rogers.  "Poor  little 
Cal!  And  his  mother!  How  can  we  tell  her?" 

As  the  boat  drifted  near  the  now  anchored  sloop  Abe 
Cruger  mechanically  caught  the  line  flung  to  him  by  young 
Jabe,  and  she  was  drawn  alongside.  One  by  one  the  swim- 
mers were  hauled  up  from  the  water  by  Captain  Crotty's 
strong  hands,  and  when  at  length  they  all  stood  on  deck 


he  inquired  in  a  trembling  voice,  "  How  many's  missiugf 
Where's  the  little  one  ?'' 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  Will  Rogers,  with  something 
very  like  a  sob  choking  his  speech.  "  He  is  the  only  one 
ini.ssing;  but  I'm  awfully  afraid  we'll  never  see  him  alive 
again." 

"  Waal,"  said  Captain  C'rotty,  hoarsely,  "I  might  have 
knowed  something  of  the  kind  would  happen,  and  I'm  only 
thankful  there's  as  many  of  you  left  as  there  is.  Of  course 
this  ends  the  cruise,  and  I  shall  head  back  for  Berks  just  as 
quick  as  I  get  a  fair  wind  up  the  river.  Till  then  we'll  lie 
here  and  do  what  we,  can  towards  recovering  the  body. 
Now.  you  lads,  go  below,  get  out  of  your  wet  clothes,  give 
'em  to  Jabe  to  dry,  tumble  into  your  bunks  and  stay  there. 
'S'f«i/  tlit-n:  d'ye  hear,  till  I  give  you  permission  to  leave  'em. 
Yes,  you  too,"  he  added  to  Abe  Cruger,  who  was  beginning 
to  explain  that  he  had  not  been  in  the  water.  "I  don't 
want  to  resk  having  one  of  ye  on  deck.  Your  supper  '11  be 
brought  to  you  when  it's  ready,  so  there  won't  be  no  oc- 
casion to  stir  out  of  your  bunks  before  morning." 

The  skipper  so  evidently  meant  what  he  said  that  the 
boys  saw  it  would  be  useless  to  argue  with  him.  More- 
over they  were  too  shocked  by  what  had  happened,  and  too 
heavy-hearted  for  the  attempt.  So  they  silently  and  sadly 
went  below,  and  Captain  Grotty  followed  them  to  see  that 
his  orders  were  obeyed  to  the  letter.  Not  until  every 
Ranger  had  deposited  a  little  heap  of  wet  clothing  on  the 
lloor,  and  crawled  in  between  the  blankets  of  his  bunk,  did 
the  skipper  leave  them.  Then  he  returned  to  the  deck  for 
a  soothing  pipe-smoke  and  a  quiet  consideration  of  the 
situation.  He  had  hardly  got  his  old  black  brier-wood 
well  alight  before  it  dropped  unheeded  from  his  mouth, 
while  the  man  stood  pale  and  nervous,  as  though  he  had 
seen  a  ghost.  Of  course  he  had  not ;  but  he  thought  he 
heard  one,  which  was  almost  the  same  thing.  From  some- 
where, though  he  could  not  at  first  locate  it,  a  voice  was 
calling,  and  it  sounded  like  that  of  the  boy  whom  all  on 
board  were  mourning  as  dead. 

"Help!  help!  Will!  Hal!  help!"  This  cry  had  been 
repeated  over  and  over  again  for  some  minutes  ;  but,  owing 
to  the  confusion  on  board,  and  the  noise  made  by  the  boys, 
it  had  not  been  heard  until  now. 

The  skipper  glanced  along  the  deck,  cast  an  eye  aloft, 
and  then  over  both  sides  of  the  vessel  into  the  darkening 
waters.  No  one  was  to  be  seen,  and  the  strong  man  began 
to  tremble  with  superstitious  fear.  He  made  his  way  for- 
ward and  peered  over  the  bows,  but  saw  nothing  nor  heard 
anything,  save  the  ripple  of  the  current  against  the  anchor 
chain.  Walking  aft  he  again  heard  the  voice,  and,  as  he 
leaned  over  the  stern,  it  seemed  to  come  from  directly  be- 
neath him.  It  sounded  so  close  that  he  instinctively  start- 
ed back. 

The  small  boat  had  all  this  time  been  kept  alongside 
where  young  Jabe  had  fastened  it.  Now  hastening  to  it, 
tilled  with  hope  and  dread,  and  at  the  same  time  almost  be- 
side himself  with  excitement,  the  skipper  dropped  astern, 
where  he  could  look  under  the  overhanging  counter.  There, 
from  out  the  dark  shadow  where  swung  the  ponderous  rud- 
der, a  white  face  peered  at  him,  and  a  weak  voice  uttered 
an  exclamation  of  thankfulness. 

Two  minutes  later  Captain  C'rotty  descended  the  com- 
panion-ladder and  entered  the  sloop's  hold.  In  his  arms  he 
bore  the  dripping,  shivering,  bareheaded,  and  barefooted 
form  of  little  Cal  Moody,  the  well-loved  comrade  whose 
tragic  fate  the  Raugers  were  discussing  in  subdued  tones. 

The  lad's  face  and  hands  were  covered  with  scratches 
from  which  blood  was  oozing  ;  but  he  could  still  smile,  and 
still  had  voice  enough  to  say,  "I'm  awfully  sorry,  Will,  but 
the  mermaid  startled  me  so  that — 

Just  here  the  Rangers,  who  had  been  paralyzed  into  mo- 
mentary silence,  regained  their  senses,  and  realizing  that 
he  whom  they  had  mourned  as  dead  was  restored  to  them 
alive  and  well,  broke  into  such  a  storm  of  cheers,  shouts, 
laughter,  and  questions,  that  young  Jabe,  with  terrified 
face,  came  rushing  in  from  the  galley  filled  with  the  be- 
lief that  they  had  gone  sure  enough  crazy. 

Regardless  of  appearances  they  leaped  from  their  bunks 
and  crowded  forward,  eager  to  shake  Cal  by  the  hand,  or 


1030 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


even  to  feel  of  him,  ami  so  assure  themselves  that  lie  was 
real. 

"Where  did  you  find  him  ?" 

'•  \Vliere  lias  he  been  all  this  time  I" 

'•How  did  he  get  so  scratched  up?" 

"  Oh,  Cal,  it's  so  good  to  see  you  !" 

"  No\v  \ve  won't  have  to  go  home  after  all,  will  we  ?" 

These  were  some  of  the  questions  and  exclamations 
poured  forth  by  the  excited  boys.  But  befoiv  Cal  could  re- 
ply to  one  of  them,  Captain  Crotty,  striving  to  conceal  his 
joy  beneath  a  stern  exterior,  roared  out,  "Let  him  alone, 
\e  lubbers,  and  get  back  to  your  bunks  afore  I  murder  half 
a  dozen  of  ye!"  Then  as  the  lm\s  meekly  obeyed  this  sav- 
age order,  he  began  with  clumsy  but  gentle  fingers  to  strip 
little  Cal  of  his  wet  clothing.  Xot  until  the  lad  was  rubbed 
into  a  glow,  and  snugly  tucked  away  between  warm  blank- 
ets, was  he  allowed  to  explain  what  had  happened  to  him. 
Then  he  said : 

"  I  was  looking  for  mermaids,  because  the  Captain  told 
us  to,  you  know,  and,  besides,  I  wanted  awfully  to  see  a  real 
truly  one.  When  it  came,  though,  it  jumped  out  of  the 
water  so  kinder  sudden  that  I  tumbled  right  overboard  al- 
most into  its  arms,  aud  didn't  get  a  good  look  at  it,  either. 
I  must  have  gone  down  a  thousand  feet  before  I  got  off  my 
rubber  boots  ami  began  to  come  up.  First  I  struck  some- 
thing hard  aud  scratchy — 

"  Barnacles  on  the  vessel's  bottom,"  explained  the 
skipper. 

"  Yes,  aud  we  never  cleaned  them  off,  as  yon  told  us  to," 
said  Cracker  Bob  Jones, remorsefully. 

"Then,"  continued  Cal,  "I  caught  hold  of  something, 
and  my  head  came  out  of  water,  and  as  soon  as  I  could  I 
began  to  holler.  I  guess  I  hollered  more'u  an  hour  before 
Captain  Grotty  came,  and  I  was  afraid  nobody  ever  would 
come  ;  but  now  it's  all  right,  only  I  dou't  want  to  have 
anything  more  to  do  with  mermaids — never!" 

"I  found  the  poor  little  chap  sitting  straddle  of  the 
rudder,"  commented  the  skipper,  "aud  pretty  uigh  ready 
to  drop  off  from  exhaustion  ;  but,  thank  God,  1  was  in 
time." 

"Oh!"  cried  Will  Rogers.  "Isn't  it  splendid  to  have 
him  safe  back  again,  and  aren't  we  just  the  happiest  fel- 
lows in  t-lie  world  at  this  minute.'  But  I  say,  Captain, 
we  won't  have  to  go  back  to  Berks,  after  all — that  is,  not 
until  our  cruise  is  finished — will  we?" 

"  Humph  !''  answered  the  skipper,  as  he  turned  to  go  on 
deck;  "1  don't  know  about  that." 

C  H  A  P  T  E  U     VI. 
MUTINY     AND    SHIPWRECK. 

THE  Rangers  ate  supper  in  their  bunks,  which  they 
thought  great  fun,  aud  then  iu  their  overflowing  joy  they 
skylarked  and  threw  pillows  at  one  another,  until  an  un- 
lucky shot  brought  the  lantern  down  with  a  crash.  As 
this  disaster  not  only  came  near  to  setting  the  sloop  on 
fire,  but  left  them  iu  total  darkness,  it  also  had  the  effect 
of  so  quieting  them  that  several  actually  dropped  asleep, 
while  the  others  discussed  their  prospects  iu  low  tones, 
and  wondered  if  they  really  would  have  to  go  back  with- 
out finishing  the  cruise  as  planned. 

By  this  time  young  Jabe,  with  a  sailor's  happy  facility 
for  taking  a  nap  at  any  time,  was  sound  asleep  on  deck 
forward,  while  the  skipper  sat  aft  iu  a  big  chair,  leaning 
against  the  tiller,  thoughtfully  puffing  at  his  pipe,  aud  so 
affected  by  the  soothing  influences  of  the  night  that  he 
was  wondering  if,  after  all,  he  should  have  the  heart  to  dis- 
appoint the  boys  of  their  cruise. 

Although  a  capital  sailor  aud,  under  most  conditions,  a 
very  sensible  mau,  the  skipper  of  the  Millgirl  was  inclined 
to  be  superstitious.  So  when,  a  little  later,  by  the  swing- 
ing gleam  of  the  sloop's  riding  light,  he  saw  a  dim  white 
figure  gliding  noiselessly  along  the  deck  towards  him,  he 
gazed  at  it  in  speechless  apprehension.  To  his  dismay  it 
was  followed  by  another,  and  still  others,  until  the  deck 
seemed  crowded  with  the  phantom  forms.  All  the  stories 
of  ghostly  crews  that  he  had  ever  heard  flashed  into  the 
skipper's  mind,  and,  as  the  formless  figures  silently  ap- 


proached him,  his  face  was  bathed  iu  a  cold  perspiration. 
He  sat  motionless  until  they  were  about  to  surround  him, 
when,  with  a  mighty  effort  and  a  hoarse  shout,  he  sprang 
to  his  feet. 

At  this  the  startled  ghosts,  who  were  only  so  many  bovs 
euveloped  in  white  blankets,  fell  backward  so  precipitatcly 
that  they  tumbled  over  each  cither,  and  rolled  on  deck  w  iili 
stifled  exclamations  that  at  once  proclaimed  their  humanity 
aud  identity. 

"  Oh,  you  villains!"  roared  the  relieved  skipper.  "You 
young  pirates!  You,  yon — what  do  you  mean  by  playing 
tricks  like  this  on  your  grandfather,  eh  ?  Tell  me  that 
afore  I  murder  ye." 

"  Please,  sir,  we  didn't  mean  to  play  any  trick,"  answered 
one  of  the  blanketed  figures  meekly.  "Only  we  thought, 
perhaps,  you  were  asleep,  and  wouldn't  like  to  be  disturbed. 
You  see,  we  were  afraid  yon  might  sail  back  up  the  river 
to-night,  and  thought  we'd  better  explain  what  we'd  de- 
cided to  do  before  it  was  too  late  ;  for,  you  see,  we've  talked 
it  all  over,  and  made  up  our  minds  not  to  go  back  until 
our  cruise  is  finished." 

"Oh,  ye  have,  have  you?"  remarked  the  skipper,  in  an 
interested  tone,  at  the  same  time  throwing  a  protecting 
arm  about  Cal  Moody,  and  drawing  the  little  chap  close  to 
him  for  fear  lest  he  should  get  cold. 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  voice,  which  was  now  recog- 
nizable as  that  of  Will  Rogers  ;  "  but  we  don't  waut  you  to- 
be  blamed  for  anything  that  may  happen,  or  to  have  any 
responsibility  unless  you  want  to." 

"  I  dou't  exactly  see  how  that  is  to  be  avoided  so  long  as 
I'm  in  charge  of  the  vessel,"  interposed  the  skipper. 

"Oh,  we've  settled  all  that,"  replied  Will,  cheerfully. 
"  We'll  simply  seize  the  sloop  and  sail  her  ourselves,  and 
so  take  all  the  risk  as  well  as  all  the  responsibility." 

"You'll  simply  seize  the  vessel,"  repeated  the  skipper, 
slowly,  and  in  a  bewildered  tone,  as  though  failing  to  com- 
prehend what  he  had  just  heard.  "  In  that  case,  what's  to 
become  of  me' .'" 

"  Why,  we'll  put  you  in  irons,  or  lock  yon  into  your  state- 
room, or  let  you  walk  a  plank,  that  is,  if  you  know  how- 
walking  a  plank  is  done,  or  set  yon  ashore  on  a  desolate 
island,  or  perhaps  let  you  go  adrift  in  the  small  boat  with- 
out oars  or  sail.  Of  course  we'd  give  you  pleuty  of  pro- 
visions and  water,  aud  you'd  probably  be  picked  up,  'cause 
you  know  they  always  are.  Anyhow,  we'd  let  you  tak& 
yonr  choice  of  all  those  ways." 

"  Waal,  I'll  be  Mowed!"  exclaimed  the  skipper.  "If 
these  young  pirates  hain't  planned  out  a  regular  high-sea 
mutiny,  with  all  the  fixin's  and  trimmings,  theu  I'm  a 
farmer." 

"Of  course,"  Will  hastened  to  add,  "we  would  rather 
have  you  choose  to  be  put  in  irons,  aud  so  stay  on  board, 
because  when  wo  get  to  sea  if  we  should  strike  a  typhoon 
or  anything  we  might  waut  you  to  help  navigate  the  ship." 

"  That's  so,"  reflected  the  skipper,  gravely.  "  And  ou  the- 
whole,  I  think  I'd  better  stay  aboard  anyway.  But  now 
I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  If  yon  mutineers  will  turn  in, 
and  promise  not  to  leave  your  bunks  again  before  suurise, 
I'll  promise  not  to  make  any  move  toward  going  back  be- 
fore that  time,  aud  not  even  theu  till  we've  talked  the 
whole  matter  over  again  by  daylight." 

This  proposition  seemed  to  the  Rangers  so  satisfactory, 
and  they  were  becoming  so  shivery  iu  the  chill  uight  air, 
as  well  as  sleepy,  that  it  was  promptly  accepted;  aud, 
without  further  parley,  the  young  mutineers  left  the  deck 
aud  hastened  below.  Little'  Cal  Moody,  cuddling  close  to 
the  big  skipper,  was  already  nodding,  so  the  latter  lifted 
him  iu  his  strong  arms,  and  carrying  him  iuto  the  hold 
again,  tucked  him  snugly  into  his  bunk.  Then,  after  bid- 
ding the  mutineers  a  polite  good-night,  and  promising  to- 
carefully  consider  their  proposition,  tlie  skipper  returned 
to  the  deck.  Here  for  an  hour  or  more  he  nearly  choked 
with  suppressed  laughter,  which  refused  to  be  stifled,  and 
ever  broke  out  afresh  as  he  contemplated  the  novel  aspects 
of  the  proposed  mutiny. 

"Bless  their  honest  hearts,"  he  finally  said,  half  aloud, 
"I  couldn't  no  more  disappoint  them  boys  by  carrying  of 
'cm  back  than  a  fish  could  swim  on  a  railroad  track.  So  I 


1031 


THE    GHOSTS    OP    THE    "M1LLGIHL. 


suppose  I  might,  as  well  uiiike  a  virtue  of  necessity,  and 
surrender  at  mice." 

Thus  resolved,  Captain  Grotty  turned  in  for  a  few  hours' 
sleep;  but  lie  was  on  deck  again  by  daylight,  \vben,  with 
young  Jabe's  assistance,  he  quietly  got  np  the  anchor,  set 
the  jib,  and  was  merrily  dropping  down  stream  long  before 
a  single  Ranger  even  thought  of  opening  his  eyes. 

When  the  sleepers  were  at  length  awakened  by  young 
.lalie's  lusty  shout  of  "Breakfast!"  they  tumbled  out  of 
their  luniks  in  a  hurry,  but.  sought  iu  vain  for  their  cloth- 
ing. It.  was  not  in  cabin,  bold,  or  galley  ;  but  the  mystery 
of  its  disappearance  was  speedily  explained  by  Captain 
('roll v.  who,  thrusting  his  head  down  the  hatch,  informed 
them  that  the  cook,  learning  of  their  mutiny,  had  inaug- 
urated one  of  his  own.  "He  says,"  continued  the  skipper, 
"that  he's  going  to  keep  up  bis  mutiny,  which  is  for  the 
purpose  of  hiding  your  clothes, just  as  long  as  yon  keep  up 
you rn,  but  that  as  soon  as  you'll  give  in  he'll  give  in.  Now 
I'm  going  to  set  down  to  breakfast,  and  only  wish  you 
were  properly  dressed  to  set  down  with  me.  for  it's  an  un- 
common good  one.  I  can  tell  you — corn  muth'ns  and  flapjacks 
with  maple  syrup  an  — 

Here  the  speaker  was  interrupted  by  a  howl  from  the 
Kangers,  who  had  just  realized  how  very  hungry  they 
were,  and  how  impossible  it  would  be  to  carry  on  a  mutiny 
unless  properly  clad  for  such  an  undertaking.  Most  of 
them  were  willing  to  give  iu  at  once,  but  several  held  out, 
until,  overcome  by  a  fragrant  whift'of  coft'ee  that  came  float- 
ing iu  from  the  cabin,  human  nature  could  resist,  no  longer  : 
so  an  unconditional  surrender  was  declared,  and  their  cloth- 
ing, all  nicely  dried,  was  restored  to  them  by  the  grinning 
Jabe.  Five  minutes  later  the  recent  mutineers  were  gath- 
ered about  the  smoking  breakfast  table.  As  they  satisfied 
their  ravenous  appetites  they  also  found  occasion  to  rejoice 
that  their  mutiny  had  effected  its  purpose,  for  they  learned 
that  the  skipper  had  surrendered  even  before  they  did,  and 
that  the  sloop  was  already  headed  toward  their  desired 
destination. 

All  that  day  they  sailed  down  the  beautiful  river,  and  at 


night  the  sloop  was  anchored  at  its  mouth,  where  they 
were  cooled  by  a  sea-breeze  and  rocked  by  a  gentle  swell 
rolling  iu  from  the  Sound.  The  next  day  they  crossed  the 
Sound,  and  finally  drew  near  the  lonely  island  on  which 
they  anticipated  such  glorious  times. 

During  these  two  days  of  sailing  the  skipper  kept  the 
boys  from  mischief  by  interesting  them  iu  various  simple 
problems  of  seamanship.  He  gave  them  lessons  in  boxing 
the  compass,  splicing,  tying  knots,  naming  the  various 
sails,  spars,  and  ropes,  and  in  steering,  that  caused  them  to 
realize  with  amazement  the  extent  of  their  former  igno- 
rance concerning  such  matters.  Will  Rogers  was  espe- 
cially interested  in  all  this,  anil  became  so  expert  in  steer- 
ing that  the  skipper  allowed  him  to  hold  the  tiller  for  an 
hour  at  a  time. 

••  I  tell  you  what,  fellows,"  he  said  to  a  group  of  his  com- 
rades, after  being  relieved  from  his  trick  at  the  helm, 
••  we've  learned  such  a  lot  on  this  trip  that  I  feel  ashamed 
to  think  how  little  we  really  knew  when  we  started.1' 

"  Yes,"  replied  Cracker  Bob  Jones,  "but  we  know  more 
now  than  we  even  thought  we  did  when  we  left  Berks." 

Karly  in  the  afternoon  the  sloop  reached  the  island,  on 
which  the  excited  boys  had  already  distinguished  the  tops 
of  tents  and  a  number  of  gayly  fluttering  flags.  There  \\  as 

i  4 1  harbor  around  a  point,  but  the  channel  to  it  was 

very  narrow,  and  so  beset  with  reefs  that  the  skipper  was 
proceeding  with  unusual  caution.  Suddenly,  as  they  were 
close  to  the.  point,  a  fleet  of  canoes,  under  full  sail  and  evi- 
ilrnlly  racing,  swept  out  from  behind  it.  So  excited  were 
their  occupants  that  they  took  no  notice  of  the  on-coming 
sloop,  and  a  collision  was  imminent.  To  avert  it  the  skip- 
per jammed  his  helm  hard  down.  The  sloop  luffed  sharply 
into  the  wind,  and  in  another  moment  brought  up  with  a 
crash  that  threw  every  Ranger  to  the  deck.  She  heeled  so 
far  over  that  they  thought  she  was  surely  going  to  cap- 
size, then  slowly  slid  oft'  into  deep  water  and  righted.  As 
she  did  so  young  Jabe  rushed  up  from  below  and  reported 
that  a  torrent  of  water  was  pouring  into  the  hold. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


1032 


OAKLEIGH. 


BY      E  L  L  E  X      D  0  U  G  LAS      D  E  L  A  N  D. 


CHAPTER      XVII. 

WITH  dripping  clothes  and  a  sad  heart  Cynthia  went 
up  to  the  house  after  Neal  had  left  her.  She  was 
liitterly  disappointed  and  extremely  uncomfortable.  Her 
hail',  never  very  securely  fastened,  hail  fallen  down  and  lay 
in  a  wet  mass  about  her  face  and  neck;  her  hat  felt  heavy 
as  lead,  and  water  oozed  from  her  shoes  as  she  walked. 

"Nothing  will  ever  be  right  again, "she  thought,  as  she 
gave  a  depressed  glance  at  all  the  familiar  objects  on  the 
place.  "I  feel  as  if  it  were  going  to  rain  forever,  and  the 
sun  would  never  shine  again.  It  would  have  been  so  dif- 
ferent if  Neal  had  only  come  home!" 

Mrs.  Franklin  was  thankful  to  see  her  appear,  and  re- 
frained from  reproaching  her  until  she  had  been  thoroughly 
dried  and  wanned.  Then  all  she  said  was : 

"I  thought  you  would  never  come,  Cynthia!  Was  it 
worth  while  to  go  on  the  river  such  a  morning  as  this  ?" 

"  No,  mamma  ;  but  you  will  forgive  me  when  you  hear 
why  I  went,"  said  Cynthia,  setting  down  the  cup  of  ginger 
tea  which  Mary  Ann  had  made  so  hot  and  so  strong  that 
she  could  scarcely  swallow  it.  "But  tell  me  how  Edith  is, 
tirst." 

••She  is  about  the  same.  She  seems  anxious  about 
something.  She  is  restless  and  uneasy,  but  it  is  difficult 
for  her  to  speak.  Perhaps  she  wants  you.  I  think  that  is 
it,  for  you  know  I  do  not  satisfy  her,"  added  Mrs.  Franklin, 
with  a  sigh. 

Cynthia  knelt  beside  her,  and  put  her  arms  around  her. 
"Dear  mamma!"  she  said,  lovingly 

Mrs.  Franklin  rested  her  head  on  her  step-daughter's 
shoulder.  "Cynthia  darling,  you  are  a  great  comfort  to 
me !  Are  yon  sure  you  feel  perfectly  warm  f  You  must  not 
take  cold." 


"  I'm  as  warm  as  toast.  It  won't  hurt  me  a  bit ;  you 
know  I  never  take  cold.  But  let  me  tell  you  something — 
the  reason  I  went.  You  could  never  guess!  I  went  to  see 
some  one." 

Mrs.  Franklin    raised  her  head  and  looked  at  Cynthia. 

"You  can't  mean — 

"Yes, I  do.     Neal!" 

"Child,  where  is  he  ?     Is  ho  here  ?    Has  he  come  back  1" 

"No,  mamma,"  said  Cynthia,  shaking  her  head  sadly, 
"he  wouldn't  come.  I  begged  and  implored  him  to, but  he 
wouldn't." 

"Oh,  Cynthia,  why  didn't  you  tell  me?  I  could  have 
made  him  come;  I  would  have  gone  down  on  niy  knees  to 
him  !  Why  didn't  you  tell  me?" 

"Because  he  said  I  mustn't.  He  sent  me  a  note  yester- 
day. I  knew  he  would  never  forgive  me  if  I  told." 

"Yesterday!  You  knew  he  was  coming  yesterday? 
Cynthia, you  ought  to  have  told!" 

"  But,  mamma,  he  told  me  not  to,  and  I  didn't,  have 
time  to  think  it  over,  for  we  were  so  frightened  with 
Edith's  accident.  It  all  came  at  once.  But  you  could  not 
have  made  him  come." 

"  Where  is  he  now  ?" 

"He  has  gone  to  Pelham  to  take  the  train,  and  he  is 
going  to  write  to  me,  mamma.  He  says  he — he  is  going 
to  work." 

"  My  poor  boy  !"  said  Mrs.  Franklin,  going  to  the  window. 
"Tramping  about  the  country  such  a  day  as  this  without 
a  home !  I  wonder  if  he  has  any  money,  Cynthia  ?" 

"I  don't  know,  mamma." 

Neither  of  them  remembered  that  Neal  had  wilfully  de- 
serted his  home,  and  that  it  was  entirely  his  own  fault  if 
he  had  no  money  in  his  pockets. 


'I    CAN'T    HEAR    YOU,"    SHE    SAID.     "DON'T    TRY    TO    SPEAK 
1033 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"Cynthia,"  said  Mrs.  Franklin,  turning  abruptly  and 
facing  her  daughter,  "I  want  yen  to  umlcrstaiul  tliat  I 
(Inn'i  think  Neal  took  that  money.  1  cannot  believe  it.  I 
am  sure  lie  got  it  iu  some  other  way.  Why  do  yon  look  so 
odd,  Cynthia  '.'" 

There-  was  no  answer. 

"I  believe  you  know  something  abont  it.     Tell  me!" 

Still  no  answer. 

"Could  you  have  helped  him  in  any  way?  Where 
would  you  get  it  ?  Why,  of  course!  How  stupid  we  have 
all  been!  Yon  had  Aunt  Betsey's  present;  you  never 
spent  it.  yon  would  not  buy  the  watch.  Cynthia,  you  can- 
not deny  it ;  I  have  guessed  it!'1 

The  next  moment  Mrs.  Franklin  was  enveloped  in  a  vig- 
orous hug. 

"You  dear  darling,  I'm  so  thankful  you  have!  Ho 
wouldn't  let  me  tell,  but  I  said  this  morning  I  wouldn't 
deny  it  if  yon  happened  to  guess." 

"Oh,  Cynthia,  though  I  said  I  didn't  believe  the  other, 
Ihis  has  taken  a  thousand-pound  weight  from  my  heart!" 

They  were  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  the  nurse,  who 
came,  to  say  that  her  patient  was  growing  more  uneasy, 
and  she  thought  some  one  had  better  come  to  her.  At  the 
same  moment  Mr.  Franklin  arrived,  so  Cynthia  went  alone 
to  her  sister. 

She  found  her  perfectly  conscious,  with  large,  wide-open 
eyes,  watching  for  her.  Edith's  head  was  bound  up,  and 
the  pretty  hands,  of  which  she  had  always  been  somewhat 
vain,  moved  restlessly.  Cynthia  took  one  of  them  in  her 
warm,  firm  grasp,  and  leaned  over  the  bed. 

"Dearest,  you  wanted  me,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice;  "I 
am  going  to  stay  with  you  now." 

But  Edith  was  not  satisfied.  She  tried  to  say  some- 
thing, but  in  so  faint  a  voice  that  Cynthia  could  not  hear. 

"I  can't  hear  you,"  she  said,  iu  distress.  "Don't  try  to 
speak  ;  it  will  tire  you." 

But  still  Eilith  persisted.  Cynthia  put  her  ear  close  to 
her  sister. 

"Did  you  say  'mamma'?"  she  asked. 

The  great  brown  eyes  said  "Yes." 

"  Do  you  want  her  ?" 

No,  that  was  not  it.     Cynthia  thought  a  moment. 

"  Oh.  I  know!"  she  exclaimed.  "You  are  sorry  about 
the  drive,  Edith  ;  is  that  it  ?  You  want  mamma  to  forgive- 
yon  ?" 

"  Yes." 

Cynthia  Hew  down  stairs. 

"Mamma,  mamma!"  she  cried,  scarcely  heeding  her  fa- 
ther, whom  she  had  not  seen  before,  "come  quickly!  I 
have  found  out  what  Edith  wants.  She  wants  you  to  for- 
give her  for  going  to  drive,  and  you  will,  won't  you  f 

And  in  a  few  minutes,  satisfied,  Edith  fell  asleep  with 
her  hand  in  tliat  of  her  mother's. 

Many  people  came  to  inquire  for  Edith,  for  the  news  of 
her  accident  spread  like  wildfire.  Cynthia  was  obliged  to 
see  them  all,  as  Edith  would  scarcely  let  her  mother  go 
out  of  her  sight.  Now  that  her  pride  had  given  way,  she 
showed  how  completely  her  step -mother  had  won  her 
heart,  entirely  against  her  own  will. 

Among  others  came  Gertrude  Morgan. 

"And  how  is  your  dear  friend  Tony  Brouson  ?"  asked 
Cynthia.  "He  nearly  killed  Edith;  what  did  he  do  to 
himself?" 

"Oh,  he  didn't  get  very  much  hurt — at  least  he  didn't 
show  it  much.  He  went  home  right  away.  He  thought 
he  had  better." 

••Well,  I  should  think  he  might  have  had  the  grace  to 
come  and  inquire  for  Edith,  after  upsetting  her  in  that 
style,  and  almost  breaking  her  neck." 

"He  seemed  to  think  he  ought  to  get  home.  He 
thought  he  might  be  a  good  deal  hurt,  only  it  didn't  come 
out  just  at  first.  He  said  there  were  inward  hrui.-es." 

"Inward  bruises!"  repeated  Cynthia,  scornfully.  "I 
guess  the  inward  bruise  was  that  he  was  ashamed  of  him- 
self for  letting  the  horse  run  away.  Now  don't  you  really 
think  so,  Gertrude?  Don't  you  think  yourself  that  it 
was  outrageous  of  him  not  to  find  out  more  about  Edith 
before  he  went  ?" 


Gertrude  was  forced  to  acknowledge  that  she  did  Iliink 
so;  and,  furthermore,  she  confessed  that  her  brother  Den- 
nis was  so  enraged  at  Bronson's  conduct  that  he,  declared 
he  should  never  be  asked  there  again. 

"  I'm  glad  of  it !"  declared  Cynthia,  emphatically.  "  It's 
about  time  yon  all  found  out  what  a  cad  that  Bronson 
is.  If  you  knew  as  much  as  I  know  about  him  you  would 
have  come  to  that  conclusion  long  ago." 

"Oh,  of  course  you  are  prejudiced  by  Neal  Gordon!  I 
wouldn't  take  his  word  for  anything.  By-the-way,  have 
you  seen  him  lately  ?" 

"  Yes,  very  lately.  He  came  out  to  Brenton  the  other 
day." 

"  Did  he,  really  ?"  cried  Gertrude,  curiously.  "  I  thought 
he  was  never  coming  back.  The  last  story  was  that  your 
father  had  turned  him  out-of-doors." 

"How  perfectly  absurd!  I  should  think  I/OH  knew 
enough  abont  us  to  contradict  that,  Gertrude  !  Will  you 
please  tell  every  one  there  is  no  truth  in  it.  at  all  ?" 

"  But  where  is  he  now  ?  Is  he  here  ?  Why  has  nobody 
seen  him  ?  Wasn't  any  of  il  true  ?" 

"  Dear  me,  Gertrude,  you  are  nothing  but  a  big  interro- 
gation point !"  laughed  Cynthia,  who  bad  uo  intention  of 
replying  to  any  of  these  questions;  and  Gertrude,  battled 
and  somewhat  ashamed  of  herself,  soon  took  her  departure 
without  having  learned  anything  beyond  the  fact  thatNeal 
had  lately  been  in  town  and,  as  she  supposed,  at  his  sis- 
ter's. 

Aunt  Betsey  came  from  Wayborough  as  soon  as  she 
heard  of  what  happened.  It  was  her  first,  visit  there 
since  the  death  of  Silas  Green,  and  naturally  she  was  lunch 
affected. 

"  Cynthy,  my  dear,"  she  said,  after  talking  about  him 
for  some  time  to  her  nieces,  "  let  me  give  you  a  word  of 
warning:  Never  put  off  till  to-morrow  what  can  be  done 
to-day!  It.  is  a  good  proverb,  and  worth  remembrance. 
If  I  hadn't  put  oft' and  put  off,  and  been  so  unwilling  to 
give  up  uiy  view,  I  might  have  made  Silas's  last  years  hap- 
pier. Perhaps  he'd  have  been  here  yet  if  I'd  been  with 
him  to  take  care  of  him.  Oh,  one  has  to  give  up — one  has 
to  give  up  in  tliis  world  !" 

They  were  in  Edith's  room,  and  Edith,  listening,  felt  that 
Aunt  Betsey  was  right.  She,  too,  had  learned — many, 
many  years  earlier  in  life  than  did  her  aunt — that  one 
must  learn  to  give  up. 

Miss  Betsey  did  not  look  the  same.  The  gay  dress  that 
she  once  wore  was  discarded,  and  she  was  soberly  clad  iu 
black.  She  really  was  not  unlike  other  people  now.  but 
her  speech  was  as  quaint  as  ever. 

She  brought  Willy's  present  with  her,  and  was  shocked 
to  find  that  Janet's  had  never  beeu  received. 

"Well,  now,  I  want  to  know !"  she  exclaimed,  rocking 
violently.  •'  I  did  it  up  with  my  own  hands.  I  remember 
it  exactly,  for  it  was  a  few  days  after  the  funeral,  and  I 
was  that  flustered  I  could  scarcely  tie  the  cord  or  hold  the 
pen.  It  was  a  large  rag  doll  I  had  made  for  the  child,  just 
about  life  size,  and  a  face  as  natural  as  a  baby's.  And  I 
made  a  nice  little  satchel  to  hang  at  the  side,  and  in  the 
sat.-hel  was  the  money.  Too  bad  she  didn't  get  it!  I  re- 
member I  gave  it  to  old  Mr.  Peters  to  mail.  He  was  going 
down  Tottenham  way,  and  he  said  he'd  take  it  to  the 
post-office  there.  He'd  stopped  to  see  if  there  was  any- 
thing he  could  do  for  me  just  as  I  was  tying  it  up,  so  I  let 
him  take  it  along.  He's  half  blind,  and  just  as  likely  as 
not  he  went  to  the  meeting-house  instead  of  the  post- 
office.  He  wouldn't  know  them  apart.  You  may  depend 
upon  it,  it  warn't  Government's  fault  you  didn't  get  it.  Of 
that  I'm  very  sure." 

And,  true  to  her  principles,  the  patriotic  little  lady 
rocked  again.  No  one  told  her  of  the  suspicion  which 
had  rested  upon  Neal.  It  would  have  distressed  her  too 
deeply,  and  nothing  would  be  gained  by  it. 

"And  now,  Jack,  I  must  see  those  little  orphans,"  she 
said  to  her  great-nephew,  when  he  came  home  that  after- 
noon. "Poor  little  things,  are  they  at  all  happy?" 

Jack  led  her  in  triumph  to  the  poultry-yard. 

••Well,  I  want  to  know!"  she  exclaimed,  throwing  up 
her  mitted  hands  when  she  saw  six  or  seven  hundred  very 


1034 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


contented-looking  fowls  of  all  sizes,  kinds,  ami  ages,  each 
brood  in  its  allotted  habitation,  pecking,  running,  crowing, 
and  clucking,  and  enjoying  life  generally. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say,  Jackie,  that  not  one  of  these 
hens  over  had  any  mother  but  that  heartless  hox  in  the 
cellar:'  Well,  I  want  to  know!  They  do  look  real  con- 
tented. Do  tell!" 

Her  nephew  proudly  assured  her  that  they  appeared  to 
In-  exceedingly  happy,  and  that  he  also  was  happy;  for 
they  paid  well,  and  he  would  soon  he  able  to  return  the 
money  that  he  had  borrowed  of  her. 

And  indeed  in  a  few  weeks  Jack  travelled  out  to  Way- 
horongh,  and  with  his  own  hands  gave  back  to  his  annt 
the  seventy-five  dollars  which  she  so  kindly  had  ad- 
vanced to  him,  and  which  he  had  earned  with  his  own 
hard  work. 

Tlif.  best  part  (if  it  all  was  when  his  father  spoke  to  him 
with  unqualiliecl  praise. 

"lam  really  proud  of  my  son,  Jack,"  he  said.  "You 
have  doue  well.  I  have  watched  you  carefully,  aud  I  saw 
the  plucky  way  in  which  you  met  your  discouragements. 
It  makes  me  feel  that  I  have  a  son  worth  having.  Keep 
al  it,  my  hoy.  If  you  put  the  same  pluck  and  persever- 
ance into  everything  you  undertake  you  will  make  a  name 
some  day." 

And  when  Jack  remembered  how  his  father  had  frowned 
down  the  idea  of  the  incubator  he  felt  more  pleased  than 
ever. 

One  day  a  letter  came  to  Cynthia  from  Neal.  It  was  the 
first  they  had  received.  Mr.  Carpenter  had  written  to  Mrs. 
Franklin,  telling  her  that  Neal  was  with  him,  and  that  he 
had  taken  him  into  his  office  ;  and  Hester  wrote  to  her  bro- 
ther at  once,  hut  he  answered  neither  that  letter  nor  the 
many  that  followed.  He  was  still  obdurate.  It  was  an  ex- 
ciiing  moment,  therefore,  when  Cynthia  recognized  the 
bold,  boyish  handwriting  on  the  envelope. 

"  DEAR  CYNTH  [he  wrote], — I  promised  to  write  to  yon, 
so  hero  goes.  I  am  living  with  Cousin  William  Carpenter, 
aud  probably  shall  for  the  rest  of  my  days.  He  is  in  the 
lumber  business,  and  lumber  is  awfully  poky.  However, 
I'm  earning  my  living.  Did  you  ever  see  a  Quaker?  They 
are  a  queer  lot.  It  would  not  do  for  you  to  he  one.  I'm 
they  never  get  excited.  If  the  house  got  on  fire  Cousin 
Wiiliam  and  Cousin  Rachel  would  walk  calmly  about  and 
'  thee '  and  '  thou  "  each  other  as  quietly  as  ever.  They  don't 
say  '  thou,'  though.  Cousin  William  says  it  has  become  ob- 
solete. 

"I  do  nothing  but  measure  boards  and  write  down  fig- 
ures. Boards  are  tiresome  things.  I  go  to  Quaker  meet- 
ing sometimes,  though  I  should  say  Friends'  meeting.  They 
call  themselves  Friends.  All  the  men  sit  on  one  side  and 
all  the  women  on  the  other,  aud  the  men  keep  their  hats  on 
all  through.  Sometimes  there  isn't  any  sermon  and  some- 
times there  arc  five  or  six,  just  as  it  happens.  The  women 
preach  too,  if  they  feel  like  it.  One  day  it  was  terribly 
still,  aud  I  was  just  beginning  to  think  I  should  blow  up 
and  bust  if  somebody  didn't  say  something — had  serious 
thoughts  of  giving  a  sermon  myself— when  I  heard  a  famil- 
iar voice,  aud  I  looked  over,  and  there  was  Cousin  Rachel 
preaching  away  for  dear  life.  Aud  a  mighty  good  sermon 
it  was,  too — better  than  any  of  the  men's. 

"Cousin  William  takes  me  to  see  the  sights  on  Saturday 
(or,  rather,  Seventh  day,  as  he  would  say)  afternoon,  ami  I 
have  been  about  myself  a  good  deal.  I  would  like  to  get 
to  know  the  people,  but  have  no  chance.  I  wish  you  would 
write  to  a  fellow,  Cynth.  I  would  like  to  see  you  pretty 
awfully  much.  How  you  did  give  it  to  me  that  day  on  the 
river!  You  were  a  brick,  though,  to  come.  I  have  not  for- 
gotten what  you  said.  I  am  going  to  show  you  I  am  no 
coward,  though  you  said  I  was.  I'll  stick  at  the  lumber 
trade  until  I  die  in  the  harness,  and  here's  my  hand  and 
seal !  Yours, 

"NEAL   GOI'.DON. 


It  was  better  than  nothing,  though  Mrs.  Franklin  wished 
that  the  letter  had  been  to  her.  Still,  it  was  far,  far  better 
than  if  it  had  not  been  written  at  all.  And  then  he  had 
sent  his  love  to  her.  It  was  in  a  postscript,  and  was  prob- 
ably an  after-thought,  but  sin-  was  ^hi.l  he  did  it.  He 
seemed  well  and  moderately  happy,  aud  for  that  his  sister 
was  very  grateful.  Fortunately  Hester  could  not  read  be- 
tween the  lines,  and  learn  that  the  boy  was  eating  his 
heart  out  with  homesickness  aud  a  longing  to  see  his  only 
sister. 

Neal  found  this  quiet  life,  so  far  from  his  family  aud 
friends,  very  different  from  that  to  which  he  had  been  ac- 
customed, and  sometimes  it  seemed  very  dreary  and  hard 
to  bear.  Then,  again,  he  was  quite  unused  to  steady  occu- 
pation, and  his  cousin  demanded  iiulhigginu;  attention  to 
business.  It  was  good  for  the  hoy, just  what  he  needed; 
but  that  made  it  none  the  less  irksome. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


"P.S.— Give  my  love  to  Hessie.     I  hope  Edith  is  coming 
round  all  right." 


WATER  LIFE   AROUND   NEW   YORK. 

BY  JULIAN   RALPH. 

WHAT  an  odd  thing  a  boatman's  dream  of  the  water 
life  around  New  York  would  be  if  all  the  vessels  and 
craft  of  every  kind  should  take  to  themselves  grotesque 
shapes  and  characters,  as  familiar  objects  are  apt  to  do  in 
human  dreams!  We  have  had  some  great  aud  notable 
water  parades  in  our  harbor— the  last  and  greatest  being 
that  queer  hooting  and  tooting  procession  of  many  kinds 
of  craft  that  swept  around  the  war-ships  of  ten  or  a  dozen 
great  nations  at  our  Columbus  celebration  in  the  early 
summer  of  1893.  But  the  boatman's  dream  of  which  I  .was 
thinking  would  be  far  stranger  than  that,  because  the  Co- 
lumbian naval  review  included  only  the  handy,  easily 
manageable  steam-craft  of  New  York,  like  the  steamships 
ajid  steamboats  and  tugs  and  tow-boats.  It  left  out  all  the 
really  queer  floating  things  that  have  such  shapes  as  to  al- 
most turn  a  dream  into  a  nightmare. 

The  dreaming  boatman  of  whom  I  am  thinking  would 
see  great  water-giraffes,  which  would  really  be  our  floating 
grain-elevators;  and  a  myriad  sea-spiders  transformed  from 
our  darting  tug-boats,  and  great  groaning  mother-gulls 
dragging  large  coveys  of  helpless  babies  in  their  wake. 
Those  would  be  the  tow-boats  with  their  long  trains  of 
canal-boats.  Turtles  he  would  see  by  the  score  —  huge 
flat,  almost  round  turtles  —  some  red,  some  white,  some 
brown.  Those  would  be  the  ferry-boats,  which  really  do 
look  just  like  great  sea-turtles  when  yon  are  looking  down 
upon  their  flat  hacks  from  a  high  place  like  the  Brooklyn 
Bridge.  Like  fearful  black  ocean  .sharks  would  be  the 
Atlantic  steamers — long  and  thin — out  of  whose  way  every 
other  moving  thing  flies  when  they  approach.  Our  huge 
and  towering  palace  boats  of  the  Sound  would  turn  into 
greal  white  elephants,  trumpeting  as  if  they  had  all  caught 
cold  in  their  long  snouts.  Aud  we  shall  see  that  many 
another  animal  and  creature  would  easily  appear  to  the 
troubled  dreamer  without  greatly  altering  the  shapes  of 
the  queer  craft  that  have  grown  out  of  nearly  three  hun- 
dred years  of  needs  and  developments  in  the  water-life 
around  New  York. 

I  suppose  that  the  reader  has  heard  that  almost  every 
Chinaman  in  this  country  comes  from  the  water  popula- 
tion near  Canton.  That  must  be  a  wonderful  phase  of  life, 
where  so  many  hundreds  of  thousands  of  persons  are  ac- 
tually born  upon  the  water,  to  live  out  their  lives  upon 
the  water,  and  to  die  upon  the  water.  They  form  a  river 
population  housed  in  boats  that  make  up  a  city  far  more 
peculiar  than  Venice — a  floating  city  of  stores  aud  work- 
shops,  boarding-houses,  amusement  places,  .saloons,  and  all 
the  rest.  We  have  nothing  of  the  sort  around  New  York. 
The  nearest  approach  to  that  condition  is  to  be  seen  in  the 
large  docks  on  the  East  River  near  the  Battery,  and  one  at 
Communipaw  on  the  New  Jersey  shore,  where  the  canal- 
boats  collect  with  the  boatmen  and  their  wives  and  chil- 
dren aboard  them.  Then'  one  sees  by  the  kitchen  smol 
slacks  above  the  cabin  loots,  by  the  lines  of  drying  linen 


1035 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLK 


on  the  decks,  by  the  sight  of  women  sewiug  and  knitting' 
under  cooliug  awnings,  and  by  the  views  of  children  and 
eats  and  dogs  playing  upon  the  boats — by  all  these  things 
one  sees  how  truly  the  canal-boats  are  floating  homes  as 
well  as  merchant  vessels.  At  night  the  sounds  of  sing- 
ing and  fiddliug-T-sometimes  the  nasal  notes  of  house  or- 
gans— tell  more  of  this  strange  -water  life.  Some  of  the 
cabins  of  these  canal-boats  are  quite  attractive.  They 
show  dainty  white  lace  curtains  in  the  tiny  scjnare  win- 
dows, carpets  on  the  floors,  boxes  of  flowers  upon  the  cabin 
roofs,  and  cleanly,  neatly  clad  mothers  and  little  children. 
This  is  not  the  rule,  however,  and  we  see  enough,  whenever 
we  visit  the  canallers,  to  show  that  there  is  at  least  some 
reason  for  their  being  generally  regarded  as  a  rude  and 
rough  class. 

Yet.  apart  from  these  canallers.  \\  e  have  enough  persons 
\vho  live  on  the  water  to  form  what  would  be  called  a  city 
out  West.  They  are  mainly  men  who  sleep  in  bunks  and 
eat  in  the  cabins  of  tug  -  boats,  steam  passenger  boats. 


4|;:lVf4  X;  n* 

'    "'<'fl  «.,!•    u    \\a§J 
rtE  ^saiVt^i-is&B^Ki:* 


ICE-IS  \RGES    IN    TOW. 


freighters,  and  the.  like.  A  few  women  are  among  them — 
stewardesses  of  passenger  boats  and  the  wives  of  the  cap- 
tains of  the  other  sorts  of  vessels.  Of  course  I  do  not  in- 
clude here  tin1  men  on  the  ships  that  sail  the  ocean.  Their 
homes  are  really  at  sea.  I  only  refer  to  the  scores  of 
thousands  of  persons  wbo  live  upon  boats  that  may  be 
called  the  horses  of  the  harbor,  because  they  tie  up  regu- 
larly every  night  at  certain  piers, and  every  morning  are 
sent  to  work,  here  and  there,  at  this  place  or  that,  to  carry 
goods  or  passengers,  or  to  haul  other  boats.  It  is  doubt- 
ful whether  many  children  are  born  in  these  shifting 
homes,  but  there  is  no  doubt  that  very  many  girls  and  boys 
sleep  npon  them,  and  are  sent  from  them  to  the  city's 
schools,  and,  later,  to  the  factories  and  shops  to  earn  their 
living. 

Of  all  the  uncommon  forms  that  boats  take,  the  newest, 
instead  of  being  strange  and  complicated  like  most  nine- 
teenth-century inventions,  are  almost  as  simple  as  any- 
thing that  floats.  Only  rafts  of  logs  are  more  simple  than 
what  we  call  our  "  car-floats."  They  are  the  newest  type 
of  boats  we  know, and  have  come  into  being  because  New 
York  city  is  on  an  island,  with  only  a  few  railroads  crossing 
to  it  from  the  mainland.  The  other  great  and  little  rail- 
ways,  which  bring  and  take  goods  and  people  to  and  from 
New  Y'ork,  all  stop  on  the  opposite  shores  of  our  harbor,  in 
New  Jersey,  Staten  Island,  and  Long  Island.  Since  the  cars 
of  one  railroad  often  have  to  go  past  the  city  upon  the  other 
roads,  these  "  floats "  are  used  to  transport  them  around 
our  island,  so  that  goods  from  Boston  or  Sag  Harbor,  for 
instance,  can  be  sent  around  New  Y'ork  to  the  tracks  of  the 
roads  that  will  carry  them  to  San  Francisco  without  un- 
loading or  reloading.  The  floats  that  carry  these  cars  are 
merely  boxes,  the  shape  of  great  dominoes,  with  railroad 
tracks  laid  upon  them.  Some  carry  six  freight-cars,  some 
carry  eight, and  some  carry  ten  cars.  Tiny  little  propellers 
that  we  call  •'  tug-boats"  are  warped  or  hitched  alongside 
of  these  clumsy  floating  boxes,  where  they  look  as  a  little 
kitten  would  appear  beside  a  big  St.  Bernard  dog,  or  as  a 


locomotive  would  look  beside  a  house.  But  our  queer, 
snorting,  fussy  little  tug- boats  march  away  with  every 
floating  thing  to  which  they  are  hitched — even  dragging 
huge  Atlantic  steamships  at  their  sides — because,  they  reach 
deep  down  into  the  water,  where  their  big  screws,  driven  by 
very  powerful  engines,  obtain  a  mighty  hold.  Because  our 
tug- boats  are  so  small,  and  yet  so  strong,  they  are  able  to 
move  swiftly  when  they  have  no  burdens  to  carry.  In  the 
boatman's  dream  that  I  spoke  of  they  would  seem  like  those 
water-spiders  that  many  of  us  have  seen  darting  hither 
and  thither  on  the  top  of  placid  pools.  But  there  is  one 
reason  why  they  are  not  at  all  alike — that  is,  that  the 
water-spiders  are  as  silent  as  death,  while  the  tug-boats  are 
the  most  noisy, saucy,  boisterous  of  make-believe  animals — 
always  gasping,  and  snorting,  and  whistling,  and  thrashing 
about  as  very  little  people  are  often  apt  to  do. 

The  "floats"  that  carry  passengers  around  New  Y'ork  so 
that  they  can  go  to  Boston  from  Philadelphia  or  Chicago 
without  changing  cars  (and  even  without  getting  out  of 

bed  on  the  sleeping 
cars),  are  not  floats  at 
all.  They  are  very 
powerful  and  large 
steamboats,  with  decks 
covered  with  iron 
plates,  with  car  tracks 
on  those  decks,  and 
with  arrangements  for 
locking  the  car  wheels 
fast  to  the  tracks,  so 
that  no  matter  bow 
boisterous  the  water 
may  be  on  stormy  days, 
the  cars  cannot  break 
loose  and  roll  over- 
board. We  have  sev- 
eral queer  sorts  of 
boats  and  other  float- 
ing objects  that  look 
like  floating  houses. 

Among  them  are  what  we  call  our  floating  baths,  and  onr 
floating  docks,  and  onr  cattle  and  ice  barges.  But  there  is 
one  kind  of  floating  building  that  looks  like  a  tower  or  a 
steeple  riding  the  waters  and  steering  itself  around.  That 
strange  thing — and  we  employ  many  such — is  a  floating 
grain-elevator.  It  is  a  tall  four-sided  tower  built  npon  a 
si|iiat  snub-nosed  boat.  It  has  a  great  proboscis,  that  it 
sticks  down  into  canal-boats  full  of  grain,  which  it  sucks 
or  dips  out  so  that  it  can  load  the  grain  into  the  holds  of 
ships  that  are  to  carry  it  to  Europe.  Our  floating  baths 
are  square  one-story  houses,  hollow  in  the  middle,  where  the 
bathers  swim,  with  lattice-work  or  perforated  boards  under 
them  to  let  in  the  water  without  letting  out  the  bathers. 
They  are  decorated  with  little  towers  and  flag-stall's,  and 
look  very  strange  indeed  when  they  are  being  towed  to  the 
city  in  the  early  summer  to  be  moored  beside  a  wharf,  or 
when,  after  the  bathing  season  is  over,  they  are  dragged 
away  to  be  laid  up  for  the  winter.  Onr  floating  docks, 
upon  which  all  hut  the  very  large  ships  and  steamboats  are 
lifted  out  of  the  water  to  have  their  hulls  painted,  cleaned, 
or  repaired,  are  made  of  many  boxes  joined  together.  These 
boxes  sink  when  full  of  water,  and  thus  it  is  possible  to 
steer  a  vessel  right  over  them.  Then  the  water  is  pumped 
out  of  the  boxes,  and  the  dock  (in  reality  a  cradle  rather 
than  a  dock)  rises,  and  lifts  the  vessel  up  high  and  dry  so 
that  workmen  can  walk  all  around  and  under  her  to  scrape 
off  the  barnacles  that  have  grown  fast  to  her,  or  to  paint 
her  bottom,  or  to  sheathe  it  with  copper. 

The  barges  for  carrying  cattle  and  those  for  carrying  ice 
are  just  like  the  toys  that  are  made  for  children  anil  called 
"Noah's  Arks."  They  are  houses  built  npon  strong  boat 
hulls.  The  ice-barges  are  always  white,  and  canvas  wind- 
mill wheels  are  forever  whirling  above  them, just  as  if  they 
were  some  new  kind  of  boats  made  to  go  by  air  propellers 
instead  of  wheels  or  screws  in  the  water.  The  truth  is.  of 
course,  that  these  canvas  wheels  work  the  pumps  that 
]Hiinii  out  the  water  made  by  the  constant  melting  of  the 
ice.  But  of  all  the  kinds  of  barges  that  work  in  the  New 


1036 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


York  waters  the  hay-barges  are 
surely  the  most  interesting'. 
They  are  very  large,  and  the 
houses  built  upon  their  hulls 
are  open  at  the'  hides,  with  only 
a  railing  where  the  walls 
should  be.  These  are  two-sto- 
ried houses,  and  the  lloors  that 
support  hay  in  the  winter  are 
dancing  platforms  in  the  sum- 
mer. These  hay-barges  are  our 
picnic  boats  also.  All  winter 
long,  or  as  long  as  the  waters 
arc  unfrozen,  they  bring  down 
hay  from  the  Hudson  River 
landings,  lint  in  I  lie  summer 
I  hey  go  out  of  that  business,  and 
are  hired  out  to  Sunday-schools, 
political  clubs,  secret  societies, 
church  societies,  and  the  like,  to 
currv  picnickers  to  what  are  call- 
ed the  excursion  parks  that  are 
found  along  the  Hudson  River 
and  the  Sound  at  several  hours' 
distance  from  the  metropolis. 
Tug  -  boats  drag  these  barges 
to  the  excursion  parks,  and 

the  holiday  crowds  upon  the  two  open  decks  of  the  barges 
dance  all  the  time  to  the  music  of  the  band  that  they  hire 
for  the  occasion.  The  stop  at  the  excursion  park  is  a  short 
one — just  long  enough  for  luncheon  and  a  little  strolling 
under  the  trees,  or  bathing  on  the  beach.  Then  the  home- 
ward journey  is  begun,  and  the  dancing  ou  the  barge  is  re- 
commenced and  kept  up  until  the  city  is  reached. just  before 
bedtime.  Our  great  excursion  hteambnats.  that  run  to 
Coney  Island  and  Rockaway,  are  built  on  the  same  plan — 
\\  ide  open—  and  carry  such  great  crowds  of  pleasure-seekers 
that  they  are  black  with  passengers.  These  are  sometimes 
hired  by  richer  and  more  numerous  bodies  than  those  that 
hire  the  hay-barges,  but  I  can  assure  my  readers  that  the 
real  jubilant  fun  is  ou  the  common  barges,  where  the  people 
are  apt,  to  be  simple  and  democratic,  and  ready  to  surrender 
themselves  to  those  pleasures  of  which  they  enjoy  too  little. 
Our  pilot-boats  which  go  out  to  sea  with  many  brave 


FLOATING    GRAIN    ELEVATOR. 


THE    C'ANALLERS    ON    THE    EAST    RIVEK. 


men,  and  leave  them  one  by  one  on  the  steamships  that 
they  meet— in  order  that  those  great  vessels  may  lie-  safely 
sleeved  into  port — are.  very  romantic  boats,  but  thev  li>,,]< 
like  mere  sail-boats  or  yachts.  Some  splendid  yachts  lie- 
come  pilot-boats  when  they  grow  too  old-fashioned  to  keep 
pace  with  the  faster  and  faster  boats  that  we  are  forever 
building.  Other  such  yachts  become  o\  slei  -boats,  and  lie 
beside  FultouFish  Market  in  company  with  the  tank-steam- 
ers that  bring  tish  into  New  York.  These  tank-steamers 
go  to  Nantucket.  or  wherever  the  fishing -smacks  are  at 
work,  and  lie  there  while  sail-boat  after  sail-boat  fill  up 
with  tish  and  bring  their  loads  to  be  kept  in  tin-  refrigerateil- 
tauks  of  the  steamer,  until  she,  also,  is  tilled  and  ready  to 
come  to  the  eit  v . 

Of  the '•  whalebacks,"  or  cigar-shaped  iron  ships  that 
were  first  made  to  traverse  the  great  lakes,  I  will  say  very 
little,  because  they  belong  to  no  place  in  particular,  and 
excite  as  much  curiosity  here  as  anywhere.  Our  flouting 
pile-drivers,  which  look  like  ladders  set  upon  boxes,  are 
very  curious-looking  vessels,  but  are  familiar  at  all  ports. 
Perhaps  our  immigrant  barges,  which  carry  the  immigrants 
from  Ellis  Island  (where  they  are  landed)  to  the  wharves 
of  the  railways  by  which  they  are  to  seek  homes  in  the 
West,  are  peculiar  to  \ew  York,  but  they  are  mere  hay- 
barges  like  the  excursion  boats  I  have  already  described. 
The  busy  craft  that  carry  fresh  drinking-water  to  the  sail- 
ing-ships are  usually  very  ordinary  tug- boats,  and  are 
only  peculiar  because  each  one  carries  a  great  sii^n  bearing 
the  word  "WATER"  painted  upon  it.  To  see  such  a  ves- 
sel all  by  itself  upon  a  great  expanse  of  salt  water  suggests 
Coleridge's  line  in  Tin  Ain-ii-nl  Mui-iner. 

"Water,  water,  everywhere,  and  not  a  drop  tu  drink." 

If  it  were  not  for  those  water-hearers — serving  the  ^;inn 
purpose,  as  the  camels  laden  with  water-bags  upon  the 
desert  of  Sahara — there  truly  would  not  be  a  drop  to  drink. 

I  fancy  that  what  we  call  our  "lighters"  are  the  only 
descendants  that  recall  the  old  days  of  the'  linteh  on  Man- 
hattan Island.  They  are  sail-boats  that  aie  used  to  carry 
goods  from  or  to  vessels  that  do  not  come  to  the  whanes. 
but  lie  out  in  the  open  water.  They  arc  very  old-fashioned 

and' foreign-lookin'g.  built  almost  solidly  of  heavy  \\ I. 

and  of  a  shape  very  like  a  turtle  and  quite  as  clumsy. 
Each  one  carries  a  short  thick  mast  thai  looks  as  if  it  had 
been  broken  off,  and  a  little  narrow  sail,  absurdly  dispro- 
portioned  to  the  vessel.  Everything  these  lighters  carry 
is  put  upon  their  decks,  and  they  are  so  slow  and  so  hard 
to  steer  and  so  strong  that  all  other  craft  give  them  a  wide 
berth.  It.  is  only  a  fancy  of  mine,  yet  I  never  see  one' 
without,  thinking  that  this  style  of  boat  surely  descended 
to  us  from  the  Dutch. 


10157 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


A  FREE  ENTERTAINMENT  IN  THE 
SAHARA. 

ri^HE  learned  Professor  Ducardanoy,  and  bis  assistant, 
J_  Bouchardy,  liad  been  toiling  along  the  desert's  edge  all 
day.  They  bad  Imped  to  reach  the  Algerian  sett  lenient  i>f 
Nonvelle  Saar-Louis  before  night,  but  the  sun  was  getting 
near  the  blank  western  horizon  of  yellow  saud,  and  the 
low  mountain  upon  wliieh  Xonvelle  Saar-Louis  was  built, 
the  last  southern  foot-hill  of  the  Atlas,  was  still  some  twenty 
miles  away  to  the  east. 

"We  shall  have  to  camp  here  in  the  sand,  and  push  on 
in  the  morning,"  said  the  learned  Ducardaiioy,  who  was,  as 
all  his  contemporaries  knew,  the  most  reuowiied  living 
chiropodist. 

"  I  fear  we  shall,"  said  the  assistant,  Bouchardy,  who  was 
not,  it  must  be  understood,  an  assistant  in  Ducardaiioy 's 
surgery,  but  merely  an  unscientific  fellow  who  managed 
the  magic-lantern,  ate  wool,  and  breathed  lire,  and  did 
the  other  things  which  constituted  the  grand  free  enter- 
tainment preceding  Ducardanoy's  evening  lectures  on  the 
science  of  chiropody,  in  the  course  of  which  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  perform  a  few  gratuitous  operations  with  Ducar- 
dauoy's  Corn  Cure  to  prove  its  efficacy.  "  I  fear  we  shall," 
said  Bouchardy  ;  "  but  what  is  that  building  a  mile  or  so  to 
the  south  ?  Perhaps  we  Lad  better  go  there." 

"Ah!  ha!''  said  Ducardaiioy,  looking  through  a  field- 
glass;  "it  is  an  old  Roman  tower.  Undoubtedly  it  is,  for 
there  is  nothing  Moorish  about  it,  and  the  Romans  and 
French  are  the  only  people  who  have  erected  anything 
more  substantial  than  tents  in  this  part  of  Algeria." 

"  I  think  we  had  better  go  there,"  said  Bouchardy,  -  and 
go  rapidly,  too.  Look  behind  you." 

Away  off  to  the  west,  galloping  along  in  the  track  of 
the  setting  sun,  was  a  cavalcade  of  horsemen. 

"  Spahis,"  said  1  im-ardanoy,  calmly. 

"Perhaps  so,"  said  Bouchardy.  "Perhaps  French  cav- 
alry, and  perhaps  Arab  robbers.  Who  knows?  It  is  best 
to  he  prepared.  If  yon  choose  yon  may  stay  here  to  sleep 
in  the  saud  to-night,  and  perhaps  for  all  the  nights  there- 
after forever;  but  as  for  me,  I  am  going  to  the  Roman 
castle,"  and  he  spurred  on  his  horse  and  arrived  at  the 
tower  some  minutes  after  the  learned  Ducardaiioy,  who  was 
better  mounted  than  he,  and,  moreover,  was  not  burdened 
with  a  magic-lantern  and  other  appliances  used  in  the  free 
entertainment.  They  found  the  tower  to  he  nothing  more 
than  a  plain  round  edifice  with  a  single  upper  chamber  iu 
it,  reached  by  a  flight  of  narrow  winding  stairs  ascending 
iu  a  gentle  incline.  Up  these  stairs  they  led  their  horses, 
as  the  Roman  frontier  guards  had  done  centuries  before, 
and  then  looked  out  of  the  loop-holes  for  the  approaching 
enemy. 

"  We  can  easily  keep  any  of  them  from  coming  up  the 
stairs,"  said  Bouchardy. 

"And  they  can  easily  keep  ns  from  coming  down,''  said 
Ducardaiioy.  "  But  perhaps  they  have  not  seen  us." 

They  were  soon  satisfied  on  that  score,  for  the  cavalcade 
of  horsemen — thirty-five  wild  desert  Arabs — halted  before 
the  tower,  and  in  broken  French  commanded  the  chiropo- 
dist and  his  assistant  to  surrender.  This  command  was 
not  obeyed.  The  Arabs  laughed  and  picketed  their  horses. 
and  after  a  little  a  caravan  of  camels  bearing  tents  and 
women  and  children  arrived,  and  the  Arabs  went  into 
camp  for  the  night. 

"If  they  kill  us,  the  French  government  will  wipe  them 
fr the  fare  of  the  earth,"  said  Ducardaiioy,  along  tow- 
ard the  middle  of  the  night. 

"  If  the  French  government  finds  itont.  But  the  death 
of  those  scoundrels  will  not  bring  me  to  life,"  said  Bou- 
chardy. "  I  think  it  will  be  well  to  make  a  sortie.'' 

•'  They  would  hear  us  taking  the  horses  down  ;  and  if  we 
start  on  foot  we  can't  get  so  far  away  before  daylight  that 
they  could  not  soon  discover  us  by  making  scouts  into 
the  desert.  Besides,  I  imagine  that  the  entrance  to  the 
tower  is  guarded." 

"  When  morning  comes,  I  will  eat  wool  and  breathe  fire 
and  scare  them  away,"  said  Bouchardy. 

"To  do  that  you  must  show  yourself,"  said  Diicardanoy. 


"And  they  will  fill  you  full  of  lead  \\hile  you  are  tilling 
yourself  with  wool.  But  if  we  can  scare  them,  it  will  be 
the  only  way  we  can  get  rid  of  them." 

"  I  have  it,"  said  Bouchardy. 

A  moment  later  the  sentinel  at  the  foot  of  the  tower 
gave  an  exclamation  of  surprise,  for  there,  opposite  him, 
against  the  white  walls  of  the  Sheik's  tent,  in  the  midst 
of  a  blaze  of  light,  stood  a  French  soldier  bowing  to  him. 
I'lomptly  he  sighted  his  ancient  Hint-lock,  and  sent  a 
bullet  between  the  soldier's  eyes. 

••  Mashalhih,"  said  the  sentinel,  for  the  soldier  kept  on 
bowing,  and  the  hole  in  his  head  moved  from  his  nose  to 
the  roots  of  his  hair  and  back  again  as  he  did  so. 

"The  devil  himself,"  said  the  sentinel:  and  even  before 
he  finished  saying  it,  the  soldier  had  vanished,  and  there 
stood  the  devil — a  huge  black  fellow  grinning  and  bowing. 

Bang!  went  the  sentinel's  gun  again,  and  by  this  time 
the  whole  camp  was  aroused  and  staring  at  the  Sheik's 
tent,  muttering  and  moaning  the  while.  The  tent  flap 
opened  and  the  Sheik  himself  stepped  out.  and  immediate- 
ly there  appeared  on  the  white  robes  across  his  broad  chest 
a  great  bloody  splash,  in  the  midst  of  which  shone  a  hideous 
death's  head.  A  cry  of  terror  arose,  and  the  Arabs  begau 
scurrying  about  in  the  darkness,  saddling  their  horses  and 
camels,  the  women  and  children  screaming,  and  in  the 
midst  of  the  confusion  there  appeared  in  a  loop-hole  of  the 
tower  the  face  of  a  man  illuminated  by  the  glow  of  the  lire 
he  was  breathing.  Picket-ropes  and  saddle-girths  were 
dropped,  and  those  who  were  not  already  mounted  rushed 
away  on  foot. 

"We  took  iu  more  money  from  that  entertainment  than 
we  ever  did  in  a  year  from  the  sales  of  corn  medicine  after 
our  ordinary  entertainments,"  said  Bouchardy.  "They 
have  left  behind  them  forty  camels,  ten  horses,  twelve 
Damascus  swords,  six  silver  pipes,  eighteen  bales  of  silk, 
thirty-live  gold  bracelets,  six  dozen  rings,  eight  gold  inlaid 
bridles,  and  we  haven't  looked  in  the  Sheik's  treasure- 
chest  yet.  Let  us  abandon  the  profession  of  chiropody, 
and  buy  estates  at  Nouvelle  Saar-Louis.  It  is  a  pleasant 
place  to  live  in,  and  will  be  convenient  for  ns  in  case  we 
start  out  on  other  expeditions  to  be  robbed  by  Arab  tribes." 

W.  A.  CUKTIS. 


1 


KENNIBOY'S  CIRCUS. 

'D  like  to  own  a  circus  show.     A  splendid  one  'twould 

be; 

Unlike  the  circus  shows  that  in  these  days  boys  go  to  see. 
I  wouldn't  have  a  leopard  or  a  lion  in   the  place, 
Nor  would  I  let  a  monkey  show  his  ugly  little  face. 

But  I  would   fill  it  up  with  things  like  fairies,  rives,  and 

gnomes, 

Such  as  we  read  about  in  books  of  fairy  tales  and  "  pomes." 
I'd  have  a  big  volcano  throwing  flames  up  to  the  sky, 
And    real    cold   icy  icebergs,  with    great  whales    a -swim- 
ming by. 

And  in  a  little  side-show-  I  would  have  a   burning  lake, 
And  in  another  there  would  be  a  fearful  big  earthquake. 
And  'stead  o' camels,  'raiig-o-tangs,  and  other  stupid  things, 
I'd  have  a  lot  o'  cages  chock  up  full  o'  Queens  and  Kings. 

And  I  hen  I'd  have  a  pair  o'  huge  big  ogres  with  one  eye, 
And   foiir-aud-twenty  puppy-dogs  all   baked  into  a  pie, 
For  them  to  eat  at  show-time,  so  that  little  boys  could  see 
llo\\    really  awful  terrible  those  ogre-men   can   be. 

I'd   have    a   hen   to   lay  gold   eggs,  and    harps    that    play 

themselves, 
And    bags  and  bags   o'  beau-stalk  beans  a-climbing   over 

shelves; 

And  Jacks  and  Hopmythumbs  to  fight  the  giants  every  day, 
.lust   as  those  splendid   fairy-story  books  of  mine  all  say. 

I  wouldn't  charge  a  penny  for  admittance  to  my  show. 
Of  course,  'twould  be   a  most  expensive   thing  to  run,  I 

know. 

But   I  could  well  afford  it.     I  could  make  that  circus  pay 
By  selling  off  the  golden  eggs  the  gold  egg   heu  would 

lay.  .JOHN  KEXLMUCK  BANGS. 


1038 


HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 

EVERY  one  knows  the  story  of  Joan  of  Arc,  and  it  never 
fails  to  be  interesting  from  whatever  point  yon  look 
at  it  or  study  it.  Hut  :i  good  many  boys  and  girls  think  of 
the  story,  as  they  do  of  many  another  read  in  school  histories, 
as  being  nothing  more  than  one  of  many  lessons  learued 
and  to  be  learued.  There  is  a  great  deal  iu  the  history  of 
Joan's  short  life  that  is  interesting  as  a  practical  story,  to 
say  nothing  of  any  other  interest. 

The  little  Joan  of  Arc  was  born  in  the  southern  central 
part  of  France,  in  a  little  village  called  Domremy,  partly 
in  Lorraine  and  partly  in  Champagne,  484  years  ago,  aud 
though  she  led  armies  iu  some  of  the  most  famous  battles 
ever  fought  in  France,  aud  crowned  a  king,  she  never  reach- 
ed the  age  of  twenty,  and  never  learued  to  read  or  write. 
Her  father  aud  mother  were  peasants  in  Domremy  and 
were  poor,  as  peasants  in  France  always  have  been — so 
pour  that  little  Joan  had  to  begin  early  to  do  her  part 
of  the  work,  which  meant  three  meals  a  day  to  the 
family. 

When  she  was  old  enough  her  father  used  to  send  her  to 
watch  over  the  sheep  all  day  long  iu  the  fields  aud  woods 
near  their  home,  and  all  through  these  long  hours,  in  the 
•heat  of  summer  or  the  cold  of  fall  or  spring,  she  had  nothing 
to  do  but  think  and  watch  sheep  grazing.  It  was  a  strange 
.age  iu  France  four  centuries  aud  a  half  ago.  People  general- 
ly believed  in  visions,  iu  miracles,  iu  supernatural  powers, 
nud  were  easily  influenced  by  fanaticism  and  enthusiasm 
in  religious  and  every -day  matters.  A  huge  crowd  of 
men,  women,  and  children  would  become  possessed  with 
some  idea,  aud  would  leave  their  daily  work,  their  shops, 
their  house- keeping,  and  their  games,  aud  rush  to  mar- 
ket-place or  field  to  carry  out  this  idea.  In  many  towns 
the  whole  inhabitants  would  give  their  labor  to  build  an 
enormous  cathedral.  Hundreds  of  people  would  catch  hold 
of  a  long  rope,  and  drag  one  of  the  big  blocks  of  stone 
through  a  city's  streets  to  be  placed  on  the  cathedral  walls, 
and  hundreds  of  unfortunate  people  and  children  were 
killed  by  different  kinds  of  accidents  while  working  in  this 
fanatical  way. 

Then  it  was  common,  too,  for  some  one  to  say  that  he  or 
she  was  inspired  by  visious  and  voices  to  do  or  say  one 
thing  or  another,  and  the  people  would  rush  after  the  in- 
spired one  to  hear  or  to  do  whatever  was  ordered,  or  to  try 
aud  be  healed  by  touching  the  inspired  person.  Some  were 
rank  fakirs,  who  every  now  and  then  grew  rich  before  they 
were  discovered.  Others  really  believed  in  all  they  said 
aud  did,  and  their  confidence  in  themselves  made  hundreds 
of  people  follow  them. 

It  is  a  mistake  to  think  this  is  all  gone  by  nowadays,  for 
as  a  matter  of  fact  it  is  not.  Only  a  few  years  ago  hundreds 
of  people  in  all  the  stages  of  consumption  travelled  to  Ber- 
lin to  be  treated  by  Dr.  Koch,  because  he  gave  out,  and  no 
doubt  believed,  that  he  had  found  a  cure  for  it.  At  Lourdes, 
ii  city  iu  France,  there  is  to-day  a  grotto  where  people  go 
for  miles  and  miles  around  to  be  cured  of  all  sorts  of  incur- 
able diseases.  Aud  if  these  things  attract  people  to-day, 
when  nobody  really  believes  much  in  such  matters,  you  cau 
begin  to  realize  what  fearful  enthusiasm  there  must  have 
been  iu  a  day  when  every  one  was  only  too  glad  to  believe 
such  things,  aud  wheu  most  persous  felt  more  or  less  strong- 
ly that  they  were  some  day  going  to  have  visions  or  mis- 
sions of  soiue  kind. 

It  is  not  so  surprising,  then,  that  Joan,  after  spending 
several  years  day  after  day  alone  in  the  fields,  occasional- 
ly hearing  about  all  the  troubles  and  wars  in  France,  and 
having  hours  aud  hours  wheu  she  could  do  nothing  but 
think,  should  have  thought  she  was  Suspired  with  a  mis- 
sion to  save  her  country  from  the  English  invaders,  and 
that,  once  perfectly  persuaded  of  this,  she  should  have 
quickly  had  a  lot  of  people  running  after  her  and  spread- 
ing her  fame  abroad. 

Another  thing  was  not  so  unusual  as  it  seems  to-day. 
Joan,  when  she  finally  saw  Charles  VII.  of  France,  and  per- 
suaded him  that  he  was  the  real  King  of  France,  and  that 
all  they  had  to  do  was  to  march  to  Rheims  and  crown  him 
— Joan  wore  a  suit  of  man's  armor.  She  was  only  eighteen 


years  old,  and  a  delicate  girl  of  middle  height.  It  was 
unusual,  of  course,  for  so  young  a  girl  to  go  to  war,  but  in 
those  days  women  led  bodies  of  men,  and  some  of  them 
wore  armor.  Women,  who  by  birth  and  the  absence  of 
male  relatives  had  been  left  iu  charge  of  large  feudal  es- 
tates, had  to  keep  little  armies  to  protect  their  lands  aud 
fields  from  attack,  and  when  such  attacks  did  come  they 
had  to  go  out  in  many  eases  and  lead  their  men  them- 
selves. 

So  that  while  her  visions,  her  calm  confidence,  and  her 
male  dress  were  enough  to  attract  attention,  they  did  not 
seem  so  impossible  to  the  people  of  her  time  by  a  great  deal 
as  they  would  to  the  people  of  to-day.  And  then,  also,  every- 
body was  ready  to  follow  any  "inspired  "  person  who  foretold 
anything  which  really  happened,  or  who  carried  out  what  he 
or  she  started  to  do.  Joan,  after  going  to  the  King  aud  tell- 
ing him  that  if  he  followed  her  he  would  become  the  crowned 
King  of  France,  began  to  find  every  one  following  her,  believ- 
ing in  her  just  as  calmly  as  she  believed  iu  herself.  The 
Englishmen  had  invaded  the  north  of  France  and  held  the 
city  of  Paris,  and  the  great  Duke  of  Burgundy  was  in  league 
with  them.  They  wanted  to  crown  Henry  VI.  of  England, 
King  of  France  also,  and  they  marched  southward  and 
captured  Orleans, which  practically  opened  southern  France 
to  them. 

Joan  told  King  Charles  VII.  that  she  could  recapture 
Orleans,  and  crown  him  King  at  Rheims,  and  in  a  little 
while  he  gave  her  five  or  six  thousand  men.  Mounted  on 
her  white  horse,  in  full  armor,  she  led  these  men  on,  and,  by 
her  confidence  aud  vigor  and  good  common-sense, persuaded 
the  generals  to  attack  Orleans  in  a  certain  way.  Haifa 
dozen  times  the  besiegers  were  practically  defeated,  aud 
would  have  gone  back,  but  Joan  staid  before  the  city  gates, 
aud  no  one  could  make  her  turn  back.  Such  perfectly 
fearless  conduct  acted  just  as  it  has  always  acted, just  as 
it  acted  a  thousand  times  in  the  civil  war,  in  the  Revolu- 
tion, and  everywhere  else.  The  men  grew  crazy  with  en- 
thusiasm, and  rushed  again  and  again  after  Joan  at  the 
defences  of  the  city,  with  the  result  that  they  finally  cap- 
tured it. 

Then  any  one  was  ready  to  follow  the  young  girl,  except 
her  enemies  at  court;  aud  wheu  she  ordered  King,  court, 
army,  and'  all  to  go  quickly  northward  into  the  part  of 
France  within  the  English  control,  they  followed.  The 
result  was  that  Charles  VII.  was  crowned  King,  and  the 
first  man  crowned  meant  a  great  deal  then.  It  was  all  done 
by  a  combination  of  shrewd  common-sense,  and  the  extraor- 
dinary willingness  to  believe  absolutely  iu  inspired  peo- 
ple and  follow  them  with  religious  enthusiasm,  which 
always  has  beeu  in  history  an  irresistible  force. 

Afterward  Paris  was  attacked,  but  as  soon  as  Joan  was 
wounded  the  attack  was  dropped.  Experienced  generals 
could  not  make  men  fight  the  way  fchis  girl  could,  though 
she  knew  nothing  of  military  tactics,  and  had  never  led 
anything  but  sheep  before. 

All  this  time  the  English  were  trying  to  capture  Joan, 
and  then  prove  her  to  be  a  sorceress,  iu  order  to  show  that 
any  person  crowned  through  her  agency  must  of  course  lie 
the  wrong  man.  Hence  Henry  VI.  could  be  crowned  and 
recognized  as  the  real  King  of  France.  They  did  finally 
buy  her  of  one  of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy's  vassals;  aud 
then  began  a  bogus  trial  to  prove  she  was  a  sorceress, 
siuce  merely  putting  her  to  death  without  proving  some 
evil  agency  in  her  work  would  only  make  her  a  martyr. 
Charles  VII.,  once  being  King,  did  not  know  exactly  what 
to  do  with  Joan,  so  he  took  no  steps  to  rescue  her  from  the 
English,  aud  they  spent  many  weary  days  in  trying  to 
make  her  say  something  which  could  be  used  to  prove  she 
was  a  sorceress.  Failing  in  this,  for  she  believed  too 
strongly  in  herself  aud  in  her  visious  to  alter  her  state- 
ments, they  killed  her  by  burning  her  alive  in  the  streetsof 
Rouen,  iu  1431,  with  the  result  that  she  became  a  martyr 
at  once,  aud  her  work  for  France  became  the  sacred  belief 
of  all  French  people.  Aud  in  all  the  sad  and  fascinating 
story,  the  most  interesting  and  wonderful  point  is  the 
courage,  the  bravery,  aud  the  wonderful  brain  which  a 
young  girl  of  nineteen  or  twenty  had  to  sway  men  aud 
capture  cities  and  crown  Kings. 


1039 


THE    LTTTLE     JOAX. 

SEK  "JoiN  OF  ARC,"  PAGE   1039. 

1040 


JNTERSCHOEASTIC 


<•   * 


TWO  IMPORTANT  MATTERS  were  attended  to  at  the  meet- 
ing of  the  Xew  York  Interscholastic  Athletic  Associa- 
tion last  Tuesday.  Oue  was  the  question  which  football 
rulw  shall  govern  the  contests  held  under  the  supervision 
of  the  association  this  fall,  and  the  other  was  in  regard  to 
the  formation  of  a  National  Interscholastic  Amateur  Ath- 
letic Association. 

THERE  WAS  so  MUCH  BUSINESS  of  immediate  local  im- 
portance for  the  association  to  transact  that  it  was  not 
until  late  in  the  afternoon  that,  the  question  of  organizing 
the  National  I.S.A.A.A.  could  be  brought  up.  But  when  it 
was  brought  up  the  representatives  of  the  schools  were 
unanimous  in  their  opinion  that  the  scheme  should  be  put 
through,  and  it  was  immediately  voted  that  the  matter  be 
taken  up  by  the  association,  sitting  as  a  committee  of  the 
whole,  at  their  next  meeting.  The  first  step  in  the  matter 
has  now  been  taken,  and  we  may  consequently  look  for- 
ward confidently  to  a  new  and  brilliant  era  in  the  history 
of  school  sports. 

As  TO  THK  FOOTBALL  RULES,  but  little  discussion  was  ne- 
cessary. The  constitution  of  the  N.Y.I.S.A.A.  specifies  that 
all  games  of  the  N.Y.I.S.F.B.A.  shall  be  played  under  the 
rules  of  the  Inter-collegiate  F.B.A.,  and  as  that  association 
this  year  consists  merely  of  Yale  and  Princeton,  the  New 
York  school  games  will  he  conducted  according  to  the 
newly  made  Yale-Princeton  or  Inter-collegiate  regulations. 
As  this  code  is,  beyond  any  doubt,  the  best  one  of  the  three 
at  present  in  use,  it  is  fortunate  that  the  constitution  of 
the  N.Y.I.S.A.A.  was  so  worded  as  to  provide  for  their  adop- 
tion. 

THERE  is  xo  DOUBT  THAT  if  a  National  Interscholastic 
A.  A.  A.  lie  formed,  a  team  of  athletes  from  the  Oakland 
High-School  in  California  will  come  on  to  compete  at  the 
first  meeting.  They  are  thoroughly  in  earnest  out  there. 
A  couple  of  weeks  ago  I  quoted  from  the  San  Francisco 
papers,  which  contained  more  or  less  accurate  reports  of 
these  young  sportsmen's  intentions,  but  since  then  I  have 
received  a  copy  of  the  High-School  ^Ef/is,  Oakland  Iligh- 
School's  paper  in  which  there  is  an  article  entitled  "The 
Prospective  Eastern  Trip."  It  is  too  long  to  quote  entire 
in  these  columns,  but  a  few  paragraphs  from  it  cannot  fail 
to  be  of  interest.  The  article  begins  by  saying  that, 

"Through  the  efforts  of  HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE,  a  United  States 
Interscholastic  Athletic  Association  bids  fair  to  be  formed,  and  if 
the  consolidation  takes  place,  the  first  field  day  will  be  held  at 
Xcw  York  city  in  June,  1896.  The  association  will  consist  of 
all  academies,  preparatory  and  high  schools  in  the  United  States 
which  are  of  enough  prominence  in  athletics  to  be  eligible.  It 
will  be  afar  greater  organization  in  point  of  numbers  than  the 
Inter-collegiate  Association.  Xew  England  will  have  thirty  schools 
represented,  Xew  York  eighteen,  Long  Island  five,  and  Pennsyl- 
vania twelve,  besides  many  other  schools  in  different  parts  of  the 
country." 

The  Jli/is  is  certainly  correct  in  saying  that,  in  point  of 
numbers,  the  National  I.S.A.A.A.  would  b<;  greater  than  the 
I.C.A.A.A.  New  England  would  certaiuly  have  more  than 
thirty  schools  represented,  for  there  are  thirty  schools  in 
the  N.E.I.S.A.A.  alone,  and  many  important  institutions 
iiutside  the  organization  that  would  certainly  join.  There 
are  also  the  Maine,  the  Connecticut,  the  Western  Massa- 
chusetts, the  New  York  State,  the  Pittsburg,  the  Cook 
County  (Illinois,)  the  Dartmouth,  and  many  other  associa- 
tions, which,  by  joining,  would  bring  the  membership, 
reckoned  in  schools,  up  to  the  hundreds. 


IN  VIEW  OF  SUCH  A  REPRESENTATIVE  gathering  of  the 
schools  of  this  country,  the  -Ki/is  is  perfectly  justified  in 
remarking  that  "  tbe  school  which  wins  the  meet  at  Mutt 
Haven  next  June  will  be  the  champion  academic  school  of 
the  world;  truly  a  great  distinction."  And  continuing,  it 
asks:  "Why  should  not  the  Oakland  High-School  be  this 
school?  We  have  good  athletes,  who  are  capable  of  up- 
holding the  honor  of  the.  school  in  any  kind  of  company 
and  on  any  field."  With  such  a  spirit  as  this  the  Oakland 
athletes  cannot  fail  to  be  prominent  in  any  contest  they 
may  enter. 

THE  GENERAL  PLAN  OF  THE  TRIP  EAST,  to  be  made  by  the 
O.H.-S.  team,  is  to  come  directly  to  New  York  rid  Denver 
and  Chicago.  The  present  idea  is  to  reach  here  early  in 
June,  and  to  arrange  a  series  of  dual  games  with  some  of 
the  larger  schools.  Says  the  ^-Eijis  : 

"The  crack  schools  of  the  East,  with  which  the  O.H.-S.  team 
would  compete,  are  Andover  and  Worcester  academies  in  Xew 
England,  and  Barnard  School  of  Xew  York.  A  comparison  of 
their  records  with  the  records  of  those  athletes  now  in  school,  in 
addition  to  the  probable  records  of  the  next  field  day,  shows  that 
we  do  not  suffer  by  the  contrast.  The  fact  must  be  also  taken 
into  consideration,  that  we  have  nearly  a  year  to  improve  in, 
which  the  Eastern  schools  do  not  have,  their  track  athletics  end- 
ing with  the  spring  term,  while  ours  continue  into  winter.  The 
time  in  the  220-yard,  dash  and  220-yard  hurdle  race  is  made 
straightaway,  while  our  records  are  made  on  a  curved  track,  and 
a  very  poor  one  at  that.  The  difference  in  time  is  nearly  a  second 
and  a  half,  which  brings  our  record  in  the  220-yard  dash  down  to 
about  23J  seconds,  which  is  very  good." 

The  return  trip  might  be  made  over  the  Northern  route, 
if  the  O.H.-S.  team  can  arrange  for  games  with  the  Mnlt- 
nouiah  A.C.  of  Portland,  Oregon. 

THE  AMOUNT  OF  MONEY  NECESSARY  to  defray  all  the  ex- 
penses that  would  be  incurred  in  coming  East  is  estimated 
by  the  California  athletes  at  |2500.  They  propose  to  col- 
lect this  sum  from  the  members  and  (tliimni  of  the  school, 
from  an  entertainment  to  be  given,  and  from  contributions 
by  the  business  men  of  Oakland.  They  also  count  ou 
making  some  profit  from  their  share  of  the  gate  receipts 
at  the  various  games  in  which  the  team  will  compete. 
Again,!  cannot  urge  too  strongly  upon  the  leaders  of  ath- 
letics in  onr  Eastern  schools  the  desirability  and  advisa- 
bility of  encouraging  these  California  sportsmen  to  come 
East.  It  will  give  interscholastic  sport  a  great  boom  in 
every  way,  and  raise  the  standard  anil  importance  of  school 
contests.  I  have  no  doubt  whatever  that,  as  soon  as  the 
Eastern  trip  of  the  O.H.-S.  team  is  definitely  decided  upon, 
Audover,  Worcester,  Hartford  H.-S.,  Barnard,  Cutler,  and 
many  other  schools  will  be  eager  to  arrange  dates  for  dual 
games. 

THERE  is  seen  A  GREAT  NUMBER  of  school  football 
teams  in  and  about  Boston,  that  it  is  impossible,  of 
course,  to  include  them  all  in  one  association.  Even  the 
original  I.S.F.B.A.  has  found  it  necessary  to  divide  itself 
into  a  Senior  and  a  Junior  League,  so  great  was  its  mem- 
bership. And  so,  as  rapidly  as  new  teams  crop  up  and  find 
there  is  no  room  for  them  in  existing  associations,  they  will 
form  new  organizations  themselves,  and  eventually,  mi 
doubt,  the  great  scholastic  games  of  the  year  will  he  be- 
tween the  winning  elevens  of  different  associations,  just  as 
the  principal  scholastic  football  game  hereabouts  is  that 
between  the  teams  representing  the  New  York  I.S.F.B.A. 
and  the  Long  Island  I.S.F.B.A. 


1041 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


THE  SUBURBAN  ITn,n-Si  .-11001,  LEAGUE  is  seconil  ill  im- 
portance, iu  the  neighborhood  of  Boston,  only  to  the  old 
association  made  up  of  the  Boston  and  Cambridge  schools. 
It  is  only  a  year  old,  but  it  is  in  a  thriving  condition,  the 
principal  schools  of  its  membership  being  the  Medford, 
Maiden,  Melrose,  and  Winchester  High-Schools.  The  cham- 
pionship last  year,  the  first  of  the  League's  existence,  was 
won  by  Maiden  II. -S..  whose  team  defeated  Medford  H.-S., 
10-0,  in  the  final  game  of  the  season.  This  fall  the  Subur- 
ban League  teams  will  start  playing  their  championship 
games  on  November  2d,  when  Medford  and  Winchester 
meet  at  Medford,  and  Maiden  and  Melrose  come  together 
at  Melrose.  The  two  winning  teams  will  decide  the  cham- 
pionship on  the  9th. 

THE  MALDIOX  H.-S.  TEAM  is  in  better  condition  at  this 
early  date  than  auy  of  its  rivals  in  the  League.  Captain 
Flanders,  who  has  been  a  member  of  the  team  for  three 
\ears,  is  putting  his  men  through  a  course  of  training  that 
is  developing  all  there  is  iu  them.  He  is  a  capable  player 
himself,  having  held  almost  every  position  ou  the  team.  In 
his  lirst  year  he  was  used  in  the  rush  line,  and  finally  occu- 
pied one  end.  The  next  year  he  weut  in  at  right  half-back, 
and  this  season  he  will  play  full-back.  He  is  astroug  runner, 
and  is  better  at  half  than  anywhere  else;  although  at  full 
he  will  probably  do  a  good  deal  of  running  with  the  ball, 
and  play  close  up  as  a  sort  of  third  half-back  most  of  the 
time.  Swain  at  left  guard  has  also  played  three  years  on 
the  team.  He  is  the  heaviest  man  in  the  aggregation,  and 
there  is  no  better  man  in  the  League  at  breaking  through 
or  making  holes.  Priest  will  leave  end  and  go  to  right 
half-back,  and  Atwood  will  be  taken  from  the  line,  too,  to 
go  iu  as  Priest's  partner.  Both  men  will  require  consider- 
able coaching,  but  Atwood  is  a  fast  sprinter,  and  ought  to 
turn  out  well  in  his  new  position. 

THE  MEDFORD  H.-S.  TEAM  is  made  up  mostly  of  new 
men,  but  it  is  full  of  good  material.  Captain  McPherson 
has  had  experience  on  the,  team  for  two  years,  and  will 
have  good  control  over  his  men,  his  position  being  at 
quarter.  But  he  has  a  hard  row  to  hoe,  and  will  deserve 
no  end  of  credit  if  he  moulds  all  this  awkward  and  green 
energy  into  a  team  of  players  by  November  2d.  At  Mel- 
rose the  prospects  are  but  little  better.  The  new  men  are 
light,  and  most  of  them  are  inexperienced,  only  two  ever 
having  played  ou  school  teams  before.  These  two,  Harris 
and  Libby,  will  no  doubt  take  care  of  the  ends,  as  they 
seem  best  fitted  for  those  positions.  If  necessary,  Libby 
can  go  in  at  quarter.  The  material  back  of  the  line  is  un- 
usually light,  even  for  a  school  team.  Bemis,  however,  is 
a  bard  runner,  and  tackles  well,  and  will  no  doubt  be  the 
regular  full-back.  The  other  candidates  are  a  little  slow 
iu  their  work,  and  are  much  in  need  of  vigorous  coaching. 
They  could  well  spend  an  hour  of  every  morning  iu  passing 
and  falling  ou  the  ball. 

THERE  IS  GOOD  MATERIAL  at  Winchester,  although  only 
three  of  last  year's  eleven  are  again  in  school.  The  lack 
of  old  players,  however,  is  amply  compensated  for  by  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  new,  and  I  shall  expect  to  see  Winches- 
ter well  up  toward  the  top  of  the  ladder  at  the  end  of  the 
season.  Ordway,  the  Captain  and  full-back,  bus  played  on 
the  team  two  years,  and  is  a  good  man  to  give  the  ball  to. 
He  gets  around  the  ends  in  good  style,  and  is  not  afraid  ot 
bucking  the  centre.  Thus  far  the  candidates  are  playing 
well  together,  although  they  are  a  little  slow  at  breaking 
np  interference,  and  sometimes  fail  to  follow  the  ball  as 
closely  as  they  should.  In  a  word,  their  aggressive,  play 
is  better  than  their  defensive  work.  The  latter  should 
receive  attention. 

AXDOVER'S  PLAY  IN  THE  RECENT  GAME  against  Boston 
College  was  quick  and  snappy,  and  of  a  kind  that  may  well 
giveLawrenceville  some  anxiety.  P.  A.  rolled  np  22  points 
in  two  fifteen-minute  halves,  and  came  pretty  near  scoring 
four  more  as  time  was  called.  The  Boston  men  were  hea- 
vier, but  lacked  the  training  which  clearly  characterized 
Andover's  work.  Douglass  was  put  in  at  half  iu  place  of 


Goodwin,  who  is  temporarily  laid  np.  and  made  the  star 
play  of  the  game.  It  occurred  at  the  opening  of  the  sec- 
ond half.  Andover  kicked  oft,  and  Boston  returned  it. 
Douglass  caught  the  ball  about  in  the  centre  of  the  field, 
and  ran.  He  dodged  half  the  Boston  team,  and  crossed  the 
line  for  a  touch-down.  Bntterlicld  did  good  work  like- 
wise, making  several  gains  through  the  line.  The  Andover 
men  seemed  to  have  no  trouble  in  making  holes  in  the  Bos- 
ton College  line,  and  after  each  play  the  forwards  wen-  no- 
ticeably quick  iu  lining  up.  Andover  is  going  to  have,  a. 
good  team. 

THE  EXETER  ELEVEN  is  pretty  well  knocked  out.  Halt" 
the  men  who  were  in  good  shape  two  weeks  ago  are  more 
or  less  seriously  injured  now,  and  it  is  probable  that  the 
P.E.A.  team  this  year  will  be  as  poor  a  one  as  has  repre- 
sented the  school  for  some  time.  This  condition  of  affairs 
is  due  not  so  much  to  poor  material  as  to  bad  judgment  ou 
the  part  of  the  captain  and  the  manager.  Before  tin- 
team  was  iu  any  condition  to  perform  such  hard  work, 
games  were  arranged  with  Tufts  College,  Boston  A.  A., 
M.I.T.,  and  Dartmouth.  Each  one  of  these  teams  was 
heavier  than  the  Exeter  eleven,  and  as  a  result  several 
P.  E.  A.  men  are  limping  about  the  Academy  grounds,  and 
one  or  two  men  will  not  play  football  again  this  fall.  The 
game  agains'  Dartmouth,  especially,  was  hard  for  Extter. 
In  bucking  the  Hanover  rush -line  five  of  P.E.A.'s  best 
men  were  hurt. 

THE  MOST  SERIOUS  LOSS  was  Hawkins,  the  quarter-back. 
The  other  men  behind  the  line  had  come  to  depend  consider- 
ably upon  him,  and  when  Martin  was  put  iu  his  place  they 
weut  to  pieces.  Perhaps  they  should  be  not  too  severely 
blamed  for  this,  for  Martin  is  a  wretched  player  and  ought 
never  to  be  allowed  at  quarter-back  again  until  he  learns  a. 
good  deal  more  about  the  game.  In  the  Tufts  game  Martin 
passed  the  ball  ou  more  than  one  occasion  to  his  opponents. 
When  Thomas  took  his  place  in  the  second  half  there  was 
a  slight  recovery  from  the  previous  demoralization,  but 
P.E.A.  did  no  scoring.  If  Exeter  had  arranged  her  games 
agaiust  lighter  and  weaker  teams  in  the  early  part  of  the 
season,  and  had  fixed  the  dates  with  these  older  men  for 
now  and  the  following  weeks,  her  players  would  have  been 
better  able  to  stand  the  hard  work  required  of  them. 

IT  is  JUST  THIS  SOKT  or  THING  that  brings  football  into 
disrepute  with  people  who  don't  know  anything  about  the 
name.  They  see  in  the  papers  that  Brown,  Jones,  aud 
Robinson  are  hurt  as  a  result  of  playing  football.  They 
do  not  stop  to  reflect  that  possibly  Brown,  Jones,  and  Rob- 
inson had  no  business  playing  the  game,  but  at  once  decry 
football.  Possibly  if  Brown,  Jones,  aud  Robinson  had 
been  put  on  horseback  and  trotted  around  a  field  they 
would  have  been  much  lamer,  aud  certainly  they  would 
have  been  much  more  liable  to  get  their  necks  broken. 
Take  two  elevens  in  training  and  let  them  play  a  game  ; 
there  will  be  no  one  hurt  in  all  probability.  Take  twenty- 
two  men  who  are  not  in  auy  kind  of  training  and  set  them 
loose  ou  a  gridiron  for  two  fifteen-minute  halves  and  see 
how  many  doctors  you  will  need  at  the  end  of  the  game. 
That's  the  secret  of  most  of  the  outcry  agaiust  football. 
Half  the  men  who  get  hurt  would  not  have  gotten  hurt  if 
they  had  gone  at  it  properly,  and  it,  is  almost  always  of 
these  fellows  that  the  general  public  gets  reports.  Then- 
is  a  good  deal  for  the  general  public  to  learn  about  foot- 
ball. 

TIIEP.E  is  ONE  GOOD  THING  I  notice  in  the  methods  of 
the  Chicago  High-School  teams.  They  play  only  fifteen- 
minute  halves  in  their  football  matches,  and  that  is  a  very 
proper  arrangement  for  the  early  part  of  the  season. 
Young  players  cannot  stand  the  strain  of  full-time  play  at. 
first,  and  it  is  the  height  of  folly  to  try  to  play  two  thirtj  - 
five-minute  halves  at  present.  Even  the  big  college  teams 
do  not  attempt  such  severe  work,  playing  usually  twenty 
or  twenty-live  minute  halves  until  the  1st  of  November, 
by  which  time  the  men  have  become  seasoned,  aud  arc 
able  to  stand  the  exertion  of  full-time  play.  School  teams 
should  begiu  by  playing  short  halves,  gradually  leugtheu- 


1042 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


ing  them  until  the  full  time  is  reached  two 
or  three  weeks  before  the  important  game. 
At  first  it  is  even  better  to  play  three 
periods  of  ten  minutes,  with  a  short  rest 
between  each,  than  two  fifteen  -  minute 
halves  with  only  one  rest.  It  all  depends 
on  the  size  and  strength  of  the  men  who 
are  playing,  and  the  Captain  must  be  the 
judge  iu  these  matters.  His  idea  should  be 
to  get.  the  greatest  development  with  the 
smallest  possible  strain  on  his  men. 

THE  JUNIOR  LEAGUE  SCHEDULE  of  the 
New  England  F.  B.  A.  has  been  arranged, 
and  several  matches  have  already  been 
played.  The  dates  are  as  follows: 

Roxhury  High — October  llth,  Newton  High  at.  New- 
ton  ;  October  19th,  Chelsea  at  Franklin  Park;  Novem- 
ber 2d,  Koxbury  Latin  at  South  End  Grounds;  No- 
vember 9th,  Dedham  at  Dedliam;  November  20Ui, 
Somerville  at  Somerville;  November  23d,  Hyde  Park 
at  Franklin  Park. 

Chelsea  High— October  19th,  Roxbury  High  at 
Franklin  Park;  October  23d,  Somerville  at  ^omci- 
ville;  October 26th, Roxbury  Latin  at  Brookiine  Com- 
mon ;  November  1st,  Newton  at  Chelsea;  November 
7th,  Hyde  Park  at  Chelsea;  November  16lli,  Dedham 
at  Dedham. 

Roxbury  Latin— October  ISth,  Hyde  Park  at  Hyde 
Park;  October  26th,  Chelsea  High  at  Brookline  Com- 
mon; October  30th,  Somerville  High  at  Somerville; 
November  2d,  lioxlmry  High  at  South  End  ;  Novem- 
ber 8th,  Newton  High  at  Newton;  November  13th, 
Dedbam  High  at  Dfdliam. 

Dedham  High— October  14th,  Somerville  at  Somer- 
ville; October  25th,  Newton  at  Newton;  November 
let,  Hyde  Park  at  Dedham;  November  9th,  Roxbury 
HiL'b  at  Dedham;  November  13th,  Hoxbury  Latin  at 
Dedliam  ;  November  16th,  Chelsea  at  Dedham. 

Somerville  Ili-b— ( ictob.T  14th,  Dedham  at  Somei- 
ville;  October  23d,  Chelsea;  October  30th,  Roxbnry 
Latin;  November  l'2th,  Hyde  Park;  November  20lli, 
Roxbury  High  ;  November  22d,  Newton  High. 

Hyde  Park  High— October  18th,  Roxbury  Latin  at 
Hyde  Park  ;  November  1st,  Dedliam  High  at  Dedham  ; 
November  7th,  Chelsea  High  at  Chelsea;  November 
12th,  Somerville  High  at  Somerville;  November  15th, 
Newton  High  at  Newton;  November  23d,  Roxbury 
High  at  Franklin  Park. 

Newton  High— October  llth,  Roxbury  High  at  New- 
ton ;  October  25th,  Dedliam  High  at  Newton;  Novem- 
ber 1st,  Chelsea  High  at  Chelsea;  November  8th,  Rox- 
bury Latin  nt  Newton  ;  November  15th,  Hyde  Park  at 
Newton ;  November  22(1,  Somerville  High  at  Somer- 
ville. 

The  winner  of  the  series  meets  the  tail- 
ender  of  the  Senior  League  to  determine 
whether  or  not  they  shall  exchange  places 
next  season.  THE  GRADUATE. 


This  Department  is  coiiiinc-teil  in  tile  interest  ^.1'  st:imp  an.l  coin 
collectors,  and  the  Editor  will  he  pleased  to  answer  any  question  un 
these  subjects  so  far  as  possible.  Correspondents  should  address  Editor 
Stamp  Department. 

THE  DULL  SEASON  just  ended  has  been  ex- 
tremely interesting  from  the  fact  that 
a  large  number  of  stamps  have  been  ad- 
vancing iu  value  by  leaps  and  bounds.  80 
many  new  collectors  have  come  into  the 
h'eld  that  the  supply  of  scarce  and  rare 
stamps  has  been  much  smaller  than  the 
demand.  This  has  been  the  case  especially 
in  unused  U.S.  stamps  to  such  a  degree 
that  dealers  have  refused  to  sell,  calculating 
that  they  would  make  more  money  by  hold- 
ing otf.  The  Department  stamps  have 
scored  the  greatest  advance.  The  Execu- 
tives, Mild  a  few  years  ago  for  $4  or  $5  per 
set,  command  $25  to  $30  to-day.  The  Justice 
set,  which  could  be  bought  for  $8  or  $10  a 
aet,  are  difficult  to  find  at  $80  or  $90.  Even 
the  despised  Interior,  worth  formerly  75c. 
to  $1  per  set,  now  bring  $5  to  $6.  A  fine  set 


of  State  formerly  owned  by  the  writer,  and 
sold  for  $40  in  1891,  changed  hands  the  other 
day  at  $250. 

In  a  word  collectors  with  money — bankers, 
merchants,  noblemen,  and  even  royalties — 
have  greatly  increased  ill  numbers  during 
the  past  three  years,  whereas  there  are  no 
more  unused  U.S.  stamps  to-day  than  for- 
merly. Indeed,  there  are  fewer  stamps  on 
the  market,  as  there  is  a  constant  desinir- 
tion  of  old  albums  and  collections,  through 
tire,  water,  and  carelessness. 

Used  stamps  are  not  appreciated  to  as 
grent  an  extent  as  unused,  as  the  great  de- 
mand has  led  to  the  looking  over  of  every 
lot  of  old  letters  within  the  reach  and 
knowledge  of  collectors.  Consequently 
the  common  varieties  of  U.S.  stamps  and 
envelopes  are  somewhat  of  a  drug  iii  the 
market,  and  are  bought  by  dealers  to-day 
chiefly  on  the  chauce  of  finding  one  or  more 
of  the  scarcer  kinds  in  the  lot  of  "cheap 
trash.  " 

I  WAS  MISTAKEN  in  my  opinion  that  the 
recent  find  of  11  big  lot  of  St.  Louis  stamps 


would  bring  down  their  price.  The  exact 
contrary  has  been  the  efi'ect.  Two  or  three 
of  our  largest  collectors  are  ready  to  buy 
these  stamps  at  an  increased  valuation,  as 
they  are  now  "  plating."  That  is,  they  are 
making  up  sheets  of  these  stamps  as  orig- 
inally issued.  As  there  were  two  papers 
and  three  plates,  and  each  plate  contained 
six  stamps,  to  make  up  a  complete  set  would 
require  thirty-six  stamps  iu  all.  The  ci  -.(. 
of  such  a  set  of  six  plates  of  six  stamps 
each  would  probably  he  at  least  .*!.">. M in, 
possibly  |20,000. 

THE  NEW  CATALOGUES  are  appearing. 
The  lirst  in  the  field  was  Seuf 's,  then  Stan- 
ley Gibbon's  ;  the  next  to  appear  will  prob- 
alily  be  Scott's.  Meanwhile  J.W.Scott  lias 
issued  a  circular  of  the  new  prices  of  the 
U.  S.  issues,  and  probably  will  soon  issue  a 
new  edition  of  "Our  Catalogue,"  which 
was  the  first  ever  made  iu  the  handy  pocket 
form. 

Miss  C.  A.— The  New  Jersey  cents  are  worth  from 
25c.  to  $3  each,  according  to  condition,  etc. 

PHILATUS. 


ADVJOKTISKMENTS. 


Highest  of  all  in  Leavening  Strength. —  Latest  U.  S.  Gov't  Report. 


J  Baking 
Powder 
LUTELV  PURE 


Ladies'  and  Children's 

Furnishings 

Children's    Long  and    Short    Coats, 
School   Gou'iis, 

Capes,  Dresses,  &  Caps 

Matinees.  Tea  Goiens, 

Wrappers,  Corsets. 

Paris  Underwear 


J 

NEW  YORK. 

1043 


^wCf; 


Oh,  Boys  and  Girls, 

AND  ALL   WHO  ARE    YOUNG   AT    HEART 

IF  NOT  IN   YEARS, 

HEBE  IS  FUH  FOR    YOU.' 

WATERLOO  is  novel  and  exciting!     It 

costs   $1.25    ($1.50,  express   prepaid    from 

publishers).     It  is  one  of  the  famous 

Parker  Games 

Our  Illustrated  Catalogue,  including  "  Inno- 
cents Abroad,"  "  Chivalry,"  "  Authors," 
"Napoleon,"  "Yankee  Doodle,"  and  no 
others,  for  two-cent  stamp.  "Brownies"  r.nd 
"Wonderland,"  by  mail,  35  cents  each.  I."  k 

PARKER  BROTHERS,  Salem,  Mass.,  U.S.  A. 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


ij&\m^ 


Bicycle  route 
fair  bicycle  rovd. 

way  staf/on 

or  poor 
Hotel. 


BICYC  JNG 


This  Department  is  conducted  in  the 
-- ':~-  -n  the  subject.     " 


3  answer  any  question  on  the  subject.     Our  maps  and  tours  contain  mu( 

s-  supplied  from  the  official  map3  and  road-books  of  the  League  cf  Americ 

nizint:  the  value  of  the  work  being  done  by  the  L.  A.  W.,  the  Editor  wi 
^  subscribers  with  membership  blanks  and  information  so  far  as  possible. 


ind  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to 

valuable  data  kindly 

ricau  Wheelmen.     Recop- 
will  he  p'eased  to  furnish 


FROM  Benefit  Street  and  Gluey  Street,  Providence,  to 
the  Boston  Common  is  forty-seven  miles,  and  this  is 
the  distance  to  be  run  ou  the  sixth  and  last  stage  of  the 
two-buudred-and-tifty-eight-mile  trip  from  New  York  to 
Boston.  Wherever  you  may  put  up  in  Providence,  it  is 
well  to  make  for  Benefit  Street  first  ou  starting  for  Boston. 
Thence  proceed,  and  turn  into  Oluey  Street,  following  this 
to  East  Avenue,  when  the  run  to  Pawtucket  is  direct,  and 
it  is  a  capital  four-mile  run  at  that.  The  rider  will  do 
well,  after  crossing  the  river,  to  bear  to  the  right,  and,  cross- 
iug  the  Massachusetts  border,  rim  into  Lebanon  Mills,  just 
on  the  Massachusetts  side.  Or  to  be  more  explicit,  after 
leaving  Pawtucket  turn  to  the  left,  cross  a  stone  bridge, 
bear  to  the  left  immediately  after  crossing,  then  take  the 
next  left  fork,  and  finally  bear  to  the  right  at  the  third  fork, 
and  make  for  Lebanon  Mills  direct.  Take  Cottage  Street 
out  of  Lebanon,  and  turn  to  the  right  at  the  cemetery,  anil  fol- 
low the  maiu  road  to  Hebrouville.  Thence  the  road  is  He  ar 
through  Dodgeville  across  the  track  to  Attleborough.  From 
Attleborough,  crossing  the  river,  you  take  the  left  turn  at 
Fourth  Street,  and  run  direct,  though  by  a  somewhat  round- 
about road,  to  West  Mansfield,  which  is  a  good  twenty  miles 
from  Providence.  From  West  Mansfield  run  northward, 
keep  to  the  right,  cross  the  track,  and  run  into  Mansfield 
Junction.  Crossing  tracks,  run  ou  to  East  Foxborough,  and 
thence  leaving  Sharon  on  the  westward,  proceed  to  East 
Sharon.  The  rider  should  take  care  to  turn  to  the  right  at 
the  railroad  round-house  near  Massapoag  Pond,  and  avoid 
running  on  into  Sharon.  From  Cobb's  Tavern  at  East 
Sharon  the  run  to  Canton  is  direct  and  very  good,  as  is  also 
the  road  from  Canton  to  Ponkapog,  though  you  should  take 
care  to  take  the  right  fork  a  mile  and  a  half  out  from 
Cobb's  Tavern,  and  a  mile  and  a  half  further  ou  to  turn 
sharp  left  at  a  crossroads.  From  Ponkapog  the  rider  runs 
ou  by  Blue  Hill  ou  Blue  Hill  Avenue,  passing  down  through 
Mattapau  toAVarreu  Street,  and  on  this  to  Harrison  Avenue, 
to  Chester  Park,  to  Columbus,  to  Boston  Common.  The  fol- 
lowing are  the  directions  by  the  road  from  Boston.  The 
reverse  trip  to  Providence  is  given,  because  it  is  one  of  the 
good  runs  out  of  Boston. 

STAIITIXG  AT  COPLEY  SQUARE,  leave  Public  Library  ou 
the'  right,  and  go  out  Huntingtou  Avenue  to  Parker  Street  ; 
there  turn  to  the  left,  following  Parker  to  Tremont,  there 
turn  to  the  left  onto  Tremout,  and  at  New  Heath  Street 
turn  to  right,  at  Parker  Street  turn  to  left,  and  follow  it  to 
Centre  Street,  turn  to  right  onto  Centre,  and  take  direct 
road  to  Jamaica  Plain,  continue  till  monument  is  reached. 
then  take  South  Street  to  the  left  of  monument,  and  01 
reaching  water-trough  turn  to  the  left,  cross  over  the-  rail 
road  tracks,  and  turn  to  the  right  onto  Walkhill  Street  to 
the  fork,  when-  keep  to  right  outo  Hyde  Park  Avenue, 
which  follow  till  it  joins  Central  Park  Avenue.  Continue 
on  last-named  avenue  to  River  Street,  and  then  turn  to 
right.  Ride  across  the  square,  and  go,  via  Centre  Street 
and  River  Street,  to  Milton  Street,  turn  to  the  right.  Turn 
to  left  at  High  Street,  on  reaching  Washington  Street  take 
that  past  Memorial  Hall,  Dtdham,  to  Norwood,  past  Public 
Library,  and  at  fork  of  roads  keep  to  right  into  Walpole, 
\\here,  at  the  Common  near  Town  Hall,  turn  to  the  left, 
and  after  a  run  of  a  quarter  of  a  mile  turn  to  the  right,  and 
from  the  turnpike-road  turn  to  the  right  to  South  Walpole. 

9.     Map  of  route  from   v^v  Y..rk 
ticut,  in  No.  Sll.     New  York  to 


NOTE.—  Mun  of  NVu  York  city  asphalted  streets  in  No.  809. 
N<w  Y.-rk  I"  Stamford,  C 


to  Tarrvlown  in 

Staten  fsland  in  No.  812.  New  Jersey  from  Hc.boken  to  Pine  Brook  in  No.  813.  B-ooklyn  in 
No  814.  Brooklyn  to  Babylon  in  No.  815.  Brooklyn  to  Northport  in  No.  816.  Tarrytown 
to  Poughkeepsie  in  No.  817.  Poughkeepsie  to  Hudson  in  No.  SIS.  Hudson  to  Albany  in  No. 
M't  T'.tttsiivill.?  to  Trenton  in  No  t>20.  Trenton  to  Philadelphia  in  No.  821.  Philadelphia 
ii,  No.  B2S.  IMiihi.lelrihia— Wissahickon  Route  in  No.  823.  Philadelphia  to  West  Cheater  in 
V,  -  i  t'litla-leljiliiii  tn  Atlantic  City— First  stage  in  No  ^25;  Second  Stage  in  No.  826. 
Philadelphia  to  Vineland— First  Staee  in  No.  »27.  Second  StaCe  in  No.  828.  New  i  urk  t/. 
H-IMH—  Sec. .nd  Stape  in  No.  s>W  ;  Third  Stage  in  No.  830  ;  Fourth  SlaKe  in  No.  831 ;  Fifth 
Stage  in  N*.  332 


1044 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


In  Iraving  this  village  keep  to  left,  and  take 
East  Foxborough  road, but  on  reaching  Com- 
mon bear  to  right,  and  turn  to  right  into 
South  Street,  and  go  to  forks,  where  take 
the  left  fork  to  the  turn  of  the  road,  then 
turn  to  the  right  and  cross  Wading  River, 
and  after  passing  reservoir  you  reach  forks, 
take  left  one  to  end,  then  turn  to  right  onto 
Pleasant  Street,  which  follow  to  Park  Street. 
Turn  to  right  and  cross  railroad,  continuing 
to  fountain,  turn  to  left  onto  South  Main 
Street  to  car  track,  and  follow  car  track  to 
Hebronville,  cross  Lebanon  Bridge,  keep 
straight  road  via  Central  Avenue,  following 
car  tracks  to  Six  Corners,  there  take  left 
fork  with  car  tracks  and  Cottage  Street  to 
junction  of  car  tracks.  In  Pawtucket  turn 
to  left  on  Summit  Street,  take  first  right, 
Slain  Street,  keeping  to  left  at  the  forks, 
then  first  left  onto  School  Street,  and  bear 
to  right  at  forks  to  the  first  cross  street, 
turn  to  right  onto  Division  Street,  and  cross 
the  river,  turn  to  left  onto  Pleasant  Street, 
the  continuation  of  which  is  Seven  Point 
Road,  take  first  left  beyond  cemetery,  then 
follow  Blackstoue  Boulevard  to  the  end,  and 
continue  via  of  Butler  Avenue,  following 
car  tracks,  and  turning  to  right  at  Angell 
Street,  pass  the  asylum  wall,  take  third 
street  to  left,  follow  Cook  Street,  turn  to 
right  onto  Benevolent  Street,  right  onto 
Benefit  Street,  turn  to  left  onto  College 
Street,  and  down  hill  into  Market  Square. 


Any  questions  in  regard  to  photograph  matters  will  be  willingly 
answered  by  the  Editor  of  this  column,  and  we  should  be  glad  to  hear 
from  nny  of  our  club  who  can  make  helpful  suggestions. 

MOUNTING  PICTURES   FOR  TEE  PRIZE 
COMPETITION. 

\  LTHOUGH  directions  for  mounting 
Xi.  prints  have  been  given  in  this  column, 
etill  a  few  extra  hints  may  not  come  amiss 
to  our  competitors. 

The  mounting  of  pictures  has  a  great 
deal  to  do  with  their  artistic  finish,  and  as 
technical  excellence  is  one  of  the  points  on 
which  the  prize  pictures  are  to  be  marked, 
of  course  the  mounting  of  the  pictures  is 
included  in  this  term. 

There  are  many  styles  of  card-mounts,  and 
in  selecting  a  mount  be  sure  that  the  color 
of  the  card  harmonizes  with  the  color  of  the 
print.  Do  not  use  a  gray  mount  for  pic- 
tures with  warm  brown  tones.  A  creamy- 
white  is  the  color  that  is  best  adapted  to 
most  prints.  A  very  attractive  card-mount 
is  what  is  called  a  "plate -sunk"  mount. 
The  card  has  a  depression  in  the  centre  a 
little  larger  than  the  print  to  be  mounted, 
and  has  the  effect  of  a  frame.  This  card  is 
of  heavy  board  and  rather  expensive,  yet  it 
pays  to  buy  a  good  card -mount  for  prize 
competition  pictures. 

Never  mount  a  print  on  a  card  only  a 
trifle  larger  than  the  print.  The  picture 
should  have  at  least  an  inch-wide  margin  all 
round.  A  4  X  5  print  should  be  mounted  on 
a  6  x  8  card,  and  larger  prints  on  correspoud- 
ingly  larger  cards.  Do  not  use  what  is  called 
a  4x5  card- mount  for  a  4x5  picture.  If 
you  have  never  used  a  larger  mount  than 


one  which  just  fits  the  picture  try  an  un- 
mounted print  on  a  largo  sheet  of  plain 
paper,  and  see  how  much  the  picture  gains 
in  beaut}-  by  having  a  wider  margin  to  the 
mount. 

A  nice  way  to  mount  prints  for  exhibi- 
tion is  to  first  mount  the  print  on  a  plain 
card,  and  then  place  a  mat  over  it  of  rough 
water-color  paper,  or  such  paper  as  is  used 
to  mat  pictures.  In  using  a  mat  do  not 
trim  the  photograph  ;  mount  it  in  the  centre 
of  the  card,  and  then  place  the  mat  over  it. 

Mount  your  pictures  in  as  neat  and  at- 
tractive manner  as  possible,  and  see  if  it 
does  not  raise  your  standard  of  "technical 
excellence." 

SIB  KNIGHT  FKBI>.  P.  MOORE  asks  if  there  is  any  way 
to  fix  a  defective  plate  that  lias  holes  or  scratches  on 
the  film ;  if  chemicals  can  be  bought  at  drug  stores, 
and  are  they  cheaper  or  dearer  than  those  bought  of 
the  photograph  dealers;  and  would  also  like  the  for- 
mula for  paste  given  over  again.  A  negative  that  has 
scratches  in  the  film  can  have  the  holes  or  scratches 
filled  up  in  this  way  :  apply  retouching  fluid  to  the 
spots  in  manner  directed  on  bottle.  When  it  is  dry 
take  a  soft  lead-pencil  and  mark  or  pencil  out  the 
spots,  filling  them  with  the  soft  lead.  Be  careful  not 
to  mark  any  place  except  where  the  holes  and  scratches 
are,  as  all  such  marks  will  show  in  the  print.  It  is 
best  to  experiment  with  a  spoiled  negative  first  before 
attempting  to  retouch  a  good  plate.  A  little  practice 
and  a  steady  hand  will  soon  enable  an  amateur  to  re- 
touch the  spots  in  his  negatives  so  that  the  print  wil! 
show  a  perfect  picture.  It  is  much  cheaper  to  buy 
photographic  chemicals  at  the  regular  dealers;  for 
instance,  I  bought  5  grs.  of  ferricyanide  of  potassium 
at  the  druggist  last  week  for  which  I  paid  ten  cents, 
and  a  few  days  later  bought  an  ounce  at  the  dealers 
in  photographic  goods  for  which  I  paid  ten  cents. 
Druggists  keep  good  chemicals,  but  they  charge  more 
for  them.  The  formula  for  paste  is  as  follows :  1  oz. 
best  arrowroot,  40  grs.  sheet  gelatine,  %  oz.  methylated 
spirits,  3  drops  of  carbolic  acid.  Mix  the  arrowroot 
with  1  oz.  of  water,  then  add  7  oz.  of  water  and  the 
gelatine  broken  in  bits.  Boil  for  five  minutes,  stirring 
all  the  time,  and  when  nearly  cold  stir  in  the  spirits 
slowly,  and  then  the  acid.  Keep  tightly  corked,  and 
when  wanted  for  use  take  out  a  little  and  rub  smooth 
with  a  knife. 


TOUNG  MOTHERS 

should  early  learn  the  necessity  of  keeping  on  hand  a 
supply  of  Gail  Bordeu  Eagle  Brand  Condensed  Milk 
for  nursing  babies  as  well  as  for  general  cooking.  It 
has  stood  the  test  for  30  years,  and  its  value  is  recog- 
nized.— [Adv.]  


ADVERTISEMENTS. 


Every  whale 
has  barnacles- 
every  success 
has  imitators. 

The  De  Long 
'  Patent  Hook  and  Eye. 
\ 


See  that 


hump? 


Jtichardsoti 

&  De  Long  Srot., 

Philadelphia. 


There  are  two 
classes  of  bicycles — 

COLUMBIAS 

and  others 


Columbias  sell  for  $100  to  everyone 
alike,  and  are  the  finest  bicycles  the 
world  produces.  Other  bicycles  sell 
for  less,  but  they  are  not  Columbias. 

POPE   MFG.  CO.,   HARTFORD,  CONN. 

You  See  Them 
Everywhere 


S5 1.  $25 


MAY  BE  READILY  EARNED 
IN  LEISURE  HOURS 

By  a.  boy  or  girl  in  each   town    between 
now  and  Christmas. 

COSTS  NOTHING  TO  TRY  IT. 

Alpha  Publishing  Company,  Boston,  Mass. 


Stamps, 


&«£.  STAMPS    ON    APPROVAL  c«» 

Choicest  -i  inri|.-  at  lowest  prices. 
Send  for  one  of  these  Packets.        V.  S.  at  2556  Com. 

2.00 

15 

50  Varieties,  France          .20        « 

Brooklme,  Mass. 


ic.  to  isc.  inclusiv 


-40 


P       H- 

1  •   VJ« 


jnnn  Mixed  Foreign  Postage  Stamps,  including 
1UUU  Fiii  Islands,  Samoa,  Hawaii,  Hong  Kong,  for 
34c.  in  stamps  ;  10  varieties  U.  S.  Columbian  stamps, 
25c.;  entire  unused  5c.  and  lOc.  Columbian  Enve- 
lopes, 25c.  the  pair.  Only  a  limited  number  were  is- 
sued by  U  S  Government.  E.  F.  GAMES,  Box  2031, 
San  Francisco,  Cal.  Established,  1872. 

O  TAMPS  FKEE—  Set  unused  Turkish  for  2e.  stamp 
O  20  Heligoland,  25c.  ;  6  Sardinia,  5c.  ;  6  Bavaria,  5c. 
S  Japan,  5c.  ;  8  Samoa,  lOc.  ;  3  Corea,  lOc.  :  3  China,  6c. 
lilt),  no  two  alike,  lOc.  Albums,  5c.,  10c.,2Kc.,  and  50c. 
J.  A.  WILSON  1108  Fairmount  Ave.,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 

100  all  dif.  Venezuela,Bolivia,etc.,only  lOc.; 
2l«iiilldif.Hayti,  Hawaii,  etc.,  only  SOc.Ag'ts 
wTdat50perct.com.  List  FREE1  C.  A. 
Stegiiianii,5941CoteBriliante,St.Louis,Mo. 


var-  Canada  ice.   3  var.  New  Brunswick.  loc.  100 
r  fine  stamps  with  Album  and  Stickers.  25C.  looofine 
rmxed  forc.innumrs  «c.  Sheets  on  approval  at  soperceM.com. 

H.  F.  KETCHESON.    Box  499,  Belleville,  Out. 

Mixed  Australian,  etc.,  lOc.;  105  -varie- 
ties,  and  nice  album,  Inc.:  15  unused.lOc.; 
luAfrica.lOc.;  15Asia,10c.  F.P.Vincent,Chatham,N.Y. 

23  var  unused  stamps,10c.;  S  Samoa,  8c.;  14  Roman 
States,  8C.  EXCELSIOR  STAMP  CO.,  Keyport,  N.  J. 


104.", 


HARPER'S    ROUND    TABLE 


Conditions  for  the  "  Word  Hunt." 

Following  is  a  list  of  answers  to  some  questions 
:bich  have  been  put  to  us  concerning  the  $50 

Word  Hunt."  Many  asked  tlie  same  questions, 
ut  we  endeavor  to  answer  all  the  different  ones 
i  tbe  following  : 

No  other  authorities  than  Webster  or  Worcester 

jay  be  used.    Words  that  are  marked  "obsolete" 

i  the  Dictionary  may  not  be  used,  neither  may 

nd   words.    One  letter  may  not  be  used 

wii'ij  unless  it  appears  twice  in  the  Puzzle  Words. 

•  •r  "a"   is  a  word.    By  proper  names  is 

leant  not  only  given  names  of  persons,  but  any 

rords  that  must  be  commenced  with  a  capital  let- 

sr. 

Prefixes  and  suffixes  may  not  be  used  exrp;,t 
:uen  they  form  part  of  a  simple  word.  Words  of 
:ie  same  meaning  but  spelled  differently  are  allow- 
ble,  but  words  of  different  meanings  and  spelled 
like  are  not.  The  possessive  case,  diphthongs, 
iang  words,  abbreviations,  and  contractions  are 
ot  allowable.  Degrees  of  comparison,  the  differ- 
at  forms  of  the  verb,  and  plurals  that  are  formed 
therwise  than  by  adding  "  s  "  are  allowable,  also 
'ords  in  the  Appendix. 

Words  derived  from  !he  Latin  or  Greek  may  be 
sed.but  words  commonly  used, yet  purely  foreign, 
lay  not.  All  the  letters  contained  in  the  Puzzle 
fords  need  not  be  used ;  each  word  may  contain 
ny  number  of  letters,  no  matter  how  few,  so  long 
5  they  form  a  word.  One  person  may  try  for 
nly  one  prize— senior  or  junior. 
All  are  invited  to  compete,  whether  subscribers 
r  not.  If  you  are  not  a  member  of  the  Order  of 
16  Round  Table,  write  to  the  publishers  for  a 
[etabership  Patent.  We  request  that  answers  be 
•ritten  on  one  side  of  the  paper  only,  and  that 
ich  word  be  numbered.  Write  the  words  in 
[phabetieal  order,  as  far  as  possible,  and  do  not 
)11  the  sheets,  but  send  them  either  flat  or  folded. 


A  Delightful  Morsel  from  South  Africa. 

Winter  is  almost  over.  We  bave  had  a  very 
•arm  one.  Spring  is  not  supposed  to  come  until 
epternber,  but  already  the  trees  are  getting  quite 
reen.  and  birds  and  butterflies  are  coming  back. 
?e  very  seldom  see  snow  at  Roydon,  and  have 
ad  none  this  winter,  but  we  are  having  a  fearful 
rought.  It  is  over  a  year  since  we  bad  rain.  The 
irmers  are  looking  very  anxious  about  their  crops. 
In  October  the  "shearing"  begins.  Yon  meet 
rerywbere  bands  of  Kafirs  in  their  red  blankets, 
nob-berries  (sticks  with  a  huge  knob  at  one  end, 
Bually  carried  by  natives)  in  their  hands,  and  a 
undle  containing  a  pot,  tin  beaker,  shears,  and 
>metimes  boots,  slung  over  their  shoulders ;  these 
re  "shearers."  The  farmers  hire  them  at  the  rate 
f  about  sixpence  (twelve  cents)  for  ten  .sheep, 
bt  much,  is  it?  but  the  Kafirs  are  easily  satisfied. 
The  sheep  are  put  into  an  enclosure.  Each  Ka- 
r,  stripped  to  the  waist,  seizes  one  and  com- 
lences  to  shear  the  wool  off.  Sometimes  they 
re  careless  and  cut  tbe  flesh.  Then  a  man  stand- 
ig  by  dips  a  brush  in  tar  and  rubs  the  place  over. 
his  not  only  heals  it,  but  keeps  the  flies  off.  As 
)on  as  a  shearer  has  finished  a  sheep  he  receives 
"loikee"  (bean  or  something  of  that  sort).  At 
le  end  of  the  day  he  receives  payment  according 
>  the  amount  of  loikees  in  his  possession. 
The  wool  is  packed  into  large  bales  and  is  sold 
y  the  pound.  Dealers  send  tbe  bales  by  rail  to 
ic  seaports,  where  they  are  shipped  to  England, 
ad  come  back  to  us  in  the  shape  of  clothes.  It  is 
ist  as  well  to  keep  to  windward  of  the  shearing- 
ouse.  Not  being  addicted  to  water,  the  Kafirs 
ave  an  odor  peculiarly  their  own.  As  I  once 
eard  it  remarked,  "  it  is  enough  to  knock  a  fellow 
own."  if  you  go  too  near. 

We  M-ll  a  great  deal  of  fruit  in  the  summer.  Our 
•nit  ripens  then,  not  in  autumn.  Early  in  the 
lorning  the  men  begin  to  pick  and  pack  tbe  fruit. 
n  1893  we  sold  9100  apricots,  10,718  plums— which 
icludes  New  Orleans,  Golden  Drop,  Magnum  Bo- 
urn, Damsons,  Greengages,  and  tbe  common  blue 
lum— and  16,243  peaches  and  nectarines,  besides 
undreds  of  apples,  pears,  and  figs.  In  the  winter 
:e  bave  oranges,  lemons,  shaddocks,  and  citrons. 
ur  winter  fruit  was  a  failure  this  year  on  account 
f  the  droiiL-lit. 

We  send  most  of  our  fruit  to  East  London,  where 
,  has  a  ready  sale.  In  their  season  we  have  lo- 


quats,  granadillas,  and  walnuts.  We  almost  live 
on  fruit  in  the  summer.  The  weather  is  unbear- 
ably hot.  Last  Christmas  day  was  very  hot,  and 
all  we  felt  inclined  to  do  was  to  lie  about  in  the 
shade  and  drink  cooling  drinks.  As  evening  ap- 
proaches we  get  merry  again.  It  is  cool  almost  as 
soon  as  the  sun  sets.  We  have  no  twilight  to  speak 
of.  It  is  lovely  out-of-doors  in  tbe  evening.  We 
promenade  up  and  down  and  watch  the  stars. 

My  friend,  Douglas  Ritcbie,  who  is  thirteen  years 
of  age,  has  started  a  stamp  collection.  He  would 
like  to  exchange  South  African  stamps  for  those 
of  other  countries.  He  is  also  very  anxious  to  join 
the  Round  Table.  Will  you  send  him  a  Patent, 
please 5  His  address  is  The  Manse,  Queenstuwn, 
(.'ape  Colony,  South  Africa.  My  letter  is  getting  so 
long  that  I  must  conclude.  Will  you  please  give 
my  love  to  dear  Mrs.  Sangster,  and  tell  her  I  do  en- 
joy tbe  "Pudding  Stick  "  so  much. 

ISMA    FlNCHAM,  R.T.L. 
Rovrto.v,  QUKENSTOWN,  CAP*  COLONY,  SOUTH  AFRICA. 

Of  course  we'll  send  the  Patent.  Mrs.  Sangster 
thanks  you  warmly,  and  is  much  gratified  to  learn 
that  you  so  greatly  enjoy  her  Pudding  Stick.  She 
gives  you,  her  distant  but  not  less  dear  reader,  her 
most  cordial  greeting.  Won't  you  write  another 
just  as  good  morsel  as  this  oney 


Directions  for  Playing  "Newcomb." 

I  have  had  so  much  fun  from  the  following  game 
that  I  am  induced  to  give  it  to  the  Table.  We  boys 
of  Trinity  School,  N.  Y.,  were  the  first  to  play  it  in 
this  vicinity.  I  think  it  was  originated  by  a  lady 
gymnastic  teacher  in  New  Orleans, 'who  wished  to 
devise  some  good  healthful  game  requiring  not  too 
much  exertion. 

Two  lines  are  drawn,  one  on  each  side  of  the 
gymnasium,  about  ten  or  twelve  feet  from  the  wall. 
Two  sides  are  chosen.  Each  takes  its  place  inside 
the  line.  A  referee  and  score-keeper  are  appoint- 
ed. The  referee  tosses  a  football  (a  Rugby  is  tbe 
best)  to  one  of  the  teams.  The  man  on  the  team 
receiving  the  ball  throws  it  to  the  opposing  team, 
his  object  being  to  throw  the  ball  so  that  it  will  fall 
behind  tbe  other  team's  line.  If  he  scores  a  touch- 
down—that is,  if  it  goes  inside  the  line,  it  counts 
three  points  to  the  side  throwing  the  ball.  If  the 
ball  does  not  fall  inside,  but  outside  the  line,  it 
counts  a  foul,  and  scores  a  point  against  tbe  side 
throwing  it. 

If  a  member  of  either  team,  whether  he  is  receiv- 
ing or  throwing  the  ball,  steps  over  or  on  the  line, 
it  constitutes  a  foul,  and  scores  one  point  against 
his  side.  Of  course  tbe  swifter  the  ball  is  thrown 
the  more  unlikely  any  member  of  the  opposing 
team  is  to  catch  it.  A  certain  length  of  time  to 
play  had  better  be  agreed  upon.  I  nearly  forgot 
to  mention  that  two  lines  must  be  drawn  at  right 
angles  to  the  principal  ones— that  is.  a  line  at  each 
end.  Should  the  ball  go  outside  these  lines  it  is  a 
foul.  These  rules  can  be  perfected  and  enlarged 
according  to  any  one's  desire. 

I  give  a  diagram  showing  how  the  lines  should  be 
drawn,  and  how  the  men  could  be  arranged,  if  de- 
sired. This  diagram  is  for  a  team  of  ten  men.  The 
game  is  called  Newcomb. 


Roi  C.  MEGRUE,  R.T.K. 


Entertainments  for  the  1  10  .1 

Not  a  few  fairs  and  entertainments  are  planned 
for  tbe  near  future  in  aid  of  tbe  School  Fund. 
There  are  to  be  fairs  at  Newton,  N.  J. :  Upper  Ny- 
ai-k.  N.  Y.;  and  Edgecombe  Road,  New  York  city  ; 
and  stereopticon  entertainments  in  Washington, 
Louisville,  Dayton,  and  Piqua,  O  ;  Easton,  Pa. ; 
Sornerville,  Perth  Amboy,  and  East  Orange,  N. . I. ; 
Brooklyn  and  Utica,  N.  Y.;  Newport.  R.  I.;  and.  a 
little  later  on,  Cincinnati,  O.  Besides,  Mr.  Kirk 
Munroe  is  to  give  a  reading  and  reception  in  New 
York  city. 

Why  may  not  there  be  held,  at  or  near  tbe  boli- 

1046 


days  this  year,  say  early  in  December,  a  great  num- 
ber of  fairs?  Mr.  Munroe's  letter  describing  bis 
visit  to  Good  Will  Farm  has  aroused  much  inter- 
est. It  explains  all  about  the  work  there.  If  yon 
are  interested,  send  to  us  for  a  copy.  It  will  be 
sent  you  free.  Write  us  about  any  proposed  effort 
in  your  town.  Suppose  we  hear  from  three  «r 
four  persons  in  one  town?  We  immediately  bring 
you  together  and  there  is  a  working  force  all  ready 
to  hand.  Besides,  we  can  help  you  with  sugges- 
tions—possibly with  an  entertainment  all  ready  to 
your  hand.  How  many  can  we  hear  from  ? 


Ifoclpmo  1ban&. 

The  truth  of  the  Table's  adage  that  "everything 
conies  to  those  who  try"  was  strikingly  illustrated 
recently.  Some  Ladies  of  Newton,  N.  J.,  planned 
a  fair  in  aid  of  the  School  Fund.  Of  course  it  was 
a  delightful  occasion.  There  was  much  bard  work, 
and  there  were  some  disappointments,  but  tbe 
splendid  sum  of  $30  was  netted.  Those  who  had 
the  great  pleasure  of  giving  this  amount  to  the 
Fund  were : 

Helen  Leyton,  Mabel  T.  Roof,  Eleanor  Hay  ward. 
Mollie  Morford,  Katherine  Atwood,  Emma  How- 
ard. Edna  L.Eoof,  Mary  S.  Roof,  Harry  Howard, 
Waldemar  Howard,  Louis  Laytou,  Harry  Lubbs. 
Clarence  Howard,  Thomas  S.  Woodruff: 

At  about  the  same  lime  some  other  Ladies  in  the 
upper  part  of  New  York  city  held  a  fair.  They. 
too,  had  hard  work  and  some  discouragements, 
but  then,  like  the  Ladies  of  Newton,  they  enjoyed 
a  great  deal  of  satisfaction  in  the  end,  for  they 
were  able  to  send  to  the  Fund  $T1  60.  The  Table 
most  heartily  thanks  all  who  helped  at  these  two 
fairs.  It  also  urges  other  Ladies,  Chapters,  and  all 
readers  to  try  to  bold  fairs  for  the  same  purpose. 
Let  us  have  one  hundred  fairs  and  entertainments 
this  autumn  and  winter.  Then  we  shall  surely  lay 
the  corner-stone  of  the  building  early  iu  the  spring. 
Write  the  Table  for  suggestions,  or  see  tbe  Handy 
Book. 

*  ,  * 
/lore  Chutes  to  Shoot. 

An  interesting  article  appeared  in  the  ROUND 
TABLE  on  "Shooting  the  Chutes."  The  writer 
mentioned  that  there  were  four  "Chutes"  in  dif- 
ferent parts  of  the  country.  There  are  two  more, 
which  have  probably,  been  erected  since  the  article 
was  written, one  at  Washington  Park,  Philadelphia, 
and  the  other  at  Atlantic  City.  They  were  both 
erected  this  year.  The  one  at  Atlantic  City  was 
the  attraction  of  the  season  and  a  wonderful  finan- 
cial success.  It  earned  tbe  whole  cost  of  its  con- 
struction, $33,000.  There  will  doubtless  be  another 
one  next  year,  for  people  do  not  seem  to  tire  of 
the  exhilarating  sport. 

ATLANTIC  CITV.  IllWIN  SlIUPP,  JUN.,  R.T.K. 


An  Appeal  from  Australia. 

We  live  on  Red  Hill,  a  suburb  of  Brisbane.  We 
have  a  very  nice  view  from  our  place,  and  in  sum- 
mer a  nice  breeze  springs  up  which  mitigates  the 
intense  heat  of  the  day,  while  in  winter  it  is  rather 
cold.  We  go  to  a  state  school,  called  the  "Nor- 
mal." We  would  like  to  correspond  with  some 
girl  of  our  own  age  (thirteen  years)  from  any  for- 
eign country.  Here  is  the  address  for  any  girl  who 
would  like  to  write,  Yenie  Lawson  and  Annette 
Wilson,  Normal  School,  Brisbane,  Queensland,  Aus- 
tralia. 


Let's  have  Some  Explanations. 

After  Jotaphat  had  been  captured  by  tbe  Ro- 
mans, Josephus,  the  historian,  fled  to  a  cavern  with 
forty  other  Jews.  Ills  companions  resolved  to  kill 
each  other  rather  than  surrender.  Josephus  pre- 
tended to  agree,  but  claimed  that,  being  leader,  it 
was  bis  privilege  to  arrange  them  in  good  order 
for  death,  and  that,  beginning  to  count  from  one 
end  to  a  certain  number,  they  should  put  to  death 
the  person  on  whom  that  number  should  fall,  until 
only  one  man  should  remain,  who  should  kill  him- 
self. Tbe  men  agreed,  and  Josephus  so  arranged 
himself  and  the  forty  others  that  at  the  end  of  the 
slaughter  he  remained,  with  one  other,  whom  he 
persuaded  to  live.  How  did  Josephus  airange  his 
men  ? 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


ilpje,  t  <•>  I'.i 


nt  is  C(*nih]<  t*'l    m    tlie 
E,lu.,r  »ill    I,,    ,i. ,<:,-.•.!   to  answer    any  question  on 
3  possible.     Correspondents  sliould  nil.tress  Editor. 


I  TAKE  it  for  granted  tliat  it  is  a  class 
prophecy  which  my  correspondent,  who 
is  pn/zk-d  mi  this  score,  asks  for.  IK- re  is 
..nc  way  which  she  may  like.  Write  your 
prophecy  as  though  seen  by  the  Lady  of 
Shalot.t,  and  illustrate  liy  talileanx-vivants. 
Tin-  ]>rophet  costumes  herself  like  the  Lady 
of  Shalott.  She  should  wear  a  gauzy  white 
gown,  and  have  a  netting  wound  around 
her,  assimilating  a  spider's  web.  Her  hail- 
should  flow  loosely  about  the  shoulders,  and 
she  should  be  seated  before  a  spinning- 
wheel. 

"And  so  she  wi-.iveth  steadily, 
And  littk-  otlier  care  hath  she." 

Arrange  the  platform  to  represent  a  pret- 
tily furnished  room,  and  on  the  wall  hang 
conspicuously  a  large  mirror. 

"And  moving  thro'  a  mirror  clear 
That  hangs  before  her  all  the  year, 
Shadows  of  the   world  appear." 

The  Lady  of  Shalott  as  she  weaves  recites 
in  slow,  distinct  tones  the  prophecy,  and  as 
the  destiny  of  each  one  is  told,  have  the  per- 
son referred  to  pass  across  the  stage  before 
tin-  nniTor.aiid  so  on, out  of  sight.  The  per- 
son will  be  costumed  and  will  act  exactly 
as  the  prophecy  foretells.  The  awesome  ef- 
fect will  be  heightened  by  an  accompani- 
ment, of  slow  music. 

A  VKIIY  little  girl  asks  what  easy  thing- 
she  may  rind  to  do  for  her  mother's  birth- 
clay.  Make  a  set  of  table  -  mats,  dear,  of 
coarse  white  cotton,  crocheting  them  iu 
simple  close  work,  and  finishing  with  a  scal- 
loped edge.  I  saw  a  very  pretty  set  the 
other  day,  and  the  lady  who  owned  them 
was  proud  that  her  youngest  daughter,  aged 
eight,  had  made  them  herself. 

What  do  you  think  of  this  as  a  hint  for  a 
useful  little  gift?  A  Portia  pen-wiper  is 
practical,  unique,  new,  and  easy  of  construc- 
tion. Buy  a  china  doll  —  one  that  stands 
(irmly.  Make  for  her  several  chamois-skin 
skirts  of  different  lengths,  putting  on  the 
shortest  one  first.  Piuk  the  edges.  The 
costume  should  be  a  red  or  black  student's 
gown  and  cap,  and  put  a  tiny  roll  of  parch- 
ment in  her  hand.  If  yon  have  to  lie  tin- 
roll  in  the  hand,  use  line  silk  of  the  same 
color  as  the  parchment,  and  it  will  scarcely 
show.  The  gown  should  be  long  and  full. 
Tlie  material  may  be  silk,  velvet,  or  cash- 
mere. The  cap  should  have  a  square  top, 
fastened  to  a  narrow  band  fitting  close  to 
the  head.  The  doll  should  have  the  appear- 
ance of  stateliness.  Whenever  the  chamois 
is  soiled,  replace  the  skirts,  and  thus  the 
pen-«ip«-r  is  always  clean. 

NIL  Susie  and  Kowana.  I  do  not  care  for 
crystallized  grasses.  They  are  old-fashioned, 
aiiil  not  iu  the  least  pretty.  Do  not  put  any- 
thing in  your  vases  which  simply  gathers 
dust,  and  is  not  a  thing  of  beauty.  A  few 
growing  plants  are  a  great  attraction  in  the 
house,  and  you  can  have  geraniums  ami 
mignonette  all  winter  if  you  will  begin  to 
care  for  them  now. 

MARGARET  E.  SANGSTER. 


Copyright,  1894,  by  Tbe  Procter  &  Gamble  Co.,  Cin'ti. 

ELISABETH  ROBINSON  SCOVIL,  Associ- 
ate Editor  of  The  Ladies  Home  Journal, 
and  a  Hospital  Superintendent  of  experi- 
ence, in  her  hook,  "  The  Care  of  Chil- 
dren," recommends  the  use  of  Ivory  Soap 
for  bathing  infants,  and  says:  "  There  is 
no  particular  virtue  in  Castile  Soap  which 
has  long  been  consecrated  to  this  purpose." 


TT^VERY  boy  and  girl  interested  in  Inter- 
scholastic  Sport  should  own  a  copy  of 
"The  Book  of  Athletics  and  other  Out-of- 
])ooi  Sports."  edited  by  Norman  W.Bingham. 
.Ir.,  manager  of  the  Mo!t  Haven  Team.  1895. 

Cnmuock  of  Harvard,  Bliss  of  Vale. 
JIapes  of  Columbia,  Martin  of  Tufts,  Dwight 
the  tennis  expert,  Cracknell  the  cricket 
champion,  Bloss  the  "broad  jump"  record 
breaker,  Hart  the  golf  authority,  Mayor 
Bancroft,  of  Cambridge  ;  the  "crew"  trainer, 
Sutphen,  the  ROUND  TABLE  authority  mi 
skating,  and  other  college  men  and  famous 
amateurs  contribute  to  the  book. 

One  vol.,  cloth,  8vo,  profusely  illustrated, 
si. ."id.  For  sale  by  all  booksellers. 

Send  for  the  Lothrop  Publishing  Com- 
pany's Illustrated  Holiday  Catalogue.  It 
has  a  splendid  list  of  new  books  for  boys 
and  girls.  Mailed  free  to  any  address. 

LOTHROP  PUBLISHING  COMPANY, 

92  Pearl  Street,  Boston. 

GRATEFUL-COMFORTING. 

EPPS'S  COCOA. 

BREAKFAST-SUPPER. 

"  By  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  natural  laws  which 
•roverii  the  operations  of  digestion  and  nutrition,  and  by 
a  careful  application  of  the  fine  properties  of  well-selected 
Cocoa  Mr.  Epps  lias  provided  for  our  breakf.i-t  ami 
supper  a  delicately  flavored  beverage  which  may  save  us 
many  heavy  doctors'  bills.  It  is  by  the  judicious  use  of 
such  articles  of  diet  that  a  constitution  may  be  gradually 
built  up  until  strong  enough  to  resist  every  tendency  to 
disease  Hundreds  of  subtle  maladies  are  floating  around 
us  ready  to  attack  wherever  there  is  a  weak  point.  \Ve 
mav  escape  many  a  fatal  shaft  by  keeping  ourselves 
well  fortified  with  pure  blood  and  a  properly  nourished 
triune."— Civil  Strritf  Gazette. 

Made  simply  with  boi'mg  water  or  milk.     Sold  only 

in  half-pound  tins,  by  drocers.  labelled  thus: 

JAMES  EPPS  &  CO..  Ltd., 

Homoeopathic  Chemists.  London,  England. 

104? 


Boys, 


Have  we  again  to  shout 

"Rugby'Watches 

are  made  purposely  for  you  ?  Is  there  one 
of  you  who  has  not  sent  for  the  "  Rugby  " 
Catalogue  ? 

Do  you  think  we  are  going  to  buy 
this  paper  to  tell  you  the  story  ? 
Not  much.  Fish  a  shekel  out  of 
your  pocket,  buy  a  postal,  and  say  : 

"  The  Waterbury  Watch  Co.,  Water- 
bury,  Conn.,  send  me  a  Rugby  Catalogue." 
Sign  your  name  and  address. 

The  Waterbury  Watch  Co., 

205  Waterbury,  Conn. 


BALTIMOREAN  PRINTING-PRESS 

Ims  earned  more  money  for  bnys 
than  all  other  presses  iu  the  mar- 
ket. Boys,  don't  idle  iiwny  your 
time  when  yon  can.  buy  a  selt- 
iuking  printing-press,  type,  and 
complete  outfit  for  $5.00.  Write 
for  particulars,  there  is  money 
in  it  for  von. 

THE   J.'F.  \\\  DORMAX   CO., 
Itulllmorc,    M.I      V.S.A. 


CARD 


hour  YOU 
pretty  type. 
and  Tweeter,.  -  -.  

Sample  raailc'l  FREE  fur  In 
italosue  of 


makn  money  with  it.     A  f.>nt 
Indelible  Ink.  Type  Holder.  Pa 
II.  -t   Linen   Marker;   worth   JL 
ps  for  posti  e 

Bargains. 


i i    outtiiann  large  eataiuavje  oiiuuu  carcain* 

11.11.  IIUTI  -..II  .1  Uro.  05  I  „.  iljinli  SI   Ji.Y.  Cili 


DEAF 


NESS  &  HEAD  NOISES  CURED 

by  my  INVISIBLE  Tiii.ul.-ir  Cushions,  n«i  e  bulped 
1'1-  than  all  other  de- 
ld.    Help  ears  as  glasses 


.  , 

more  to  good  IICAR1'1-  than  all  other  de- 
vices eoriiMneil.  Whispers  nCMIld.  Help  ears  as  glasses 
rlocyes.  1.  III-.UX,  858  B'Jway.N.Y.  Boon  of  proofs  F  R  E  E 


^^  n    C)  ^f  ^2  AXD"LIST OF  4011  PKEMIUU  ARTICI.KS 

XX  ^^    •%    U  \^  IKEK.  IIAVEI;FIELDPL'B.  CO..L.I  i 


HARPER'S  KIIODIULS. 

I'er  Year  : 

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(tons     SrOncriptiomifiit  direct  to  the  ]ni 

be  accompanied  b»  ro.-t-"fi:'f  \l<m,-,,  Ortirr  or  Uin.fi. 


HAHPEU  &  BUOTHKUS.  »TV  York,  >.Y. 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


PRYING  MARY. 

BY     KATHARINE    PYLE. 


On,  curious,  prying  Mary, 
Why  was  it  you  would  try 

To  peep  in  every  bundle, 
lu  every  box  to  pry? 

M:mima  hart  often  warned  ber, 
But  still  she  pried  about, 

And  nothing  could  be  hidden 
But  Mary  found  it  out. 


it  chanced  mamma  from  shopping 
Brought  in  some  things  one  day. 

"Pray  do  not  touch  them,  Mary,"  she  said, 
"While  I'm  away." 

But  scarce  mamma  had  left  her, 
She  scarce  had  closed  the  door, 

Ere  Mary  stole  on  tiptoes 
With  haste  across  the  floor. 


She  tears  the  paper  open, 
And  stoops  with  eager  eyes. 

Puff !     In  her  mouth  and  up  her  iiose 
The  biting  pepper  flies. 

"Hittchew!  hatchew!"  she  snee/es; 

The  tears  stream  from  her  eyes. 
"Who  would  have  thought  the  bundle 

Was  pepper!"  Mary  cries. 


"Hatchew!  hatchew!"  she  sneezes, 
The  tears  drip  from  her  chin, 

And  while  she  still  is  sneezing 
Mamma  comes  softly  in. 

She  lifts  her  hands  in  wonder. 
And  Mary  hears  her  cry, 

"Some  ill-luck  always  happens 
To  children  who  will  pry." 


NOT  A  WEATHER  INDICATOR. 
AN  amusing  story  is  told  by  a 
sea-captain  in  relation  to  the  igno- 
rance of  his  steward,  whom  he  had 
directed  to  wind  the  chronometer 
in  the  cabin  every  morning  regu- 
larly during  his  contemplated  ab- 
sence from  the  ship. 

Now  a  chronometer  is  nothing 
but  a  finely  regulated  timepiece 
used  by  navigators.  On  its  face 
is  a  small  circle  having  a  hand, 
and  at  two  points  on  this  circle  arc 
the  words  "Up"  and  "Wind." 
When  the  instrument  is  wound  the 
little  arrow-hand  points  to  "Up," 
and  after  the  chronometer  has  run 
twenty-four  hours  the  arrow  stands 
against  "Wind,"  meaning  that  it 
is  time  for  it  to  he  wound. 

When  the  Captain  returned  to 
his  ship,  the  steward  reported  to 
him  that  he  had  obeyed  orders, 
and  wound  the  chronometer  faith- 
fully every  day,  and  then  added 
that  he,  personally,  did  not  think 
much  of  its  ability  to  foretell  wea- 
ther. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  asked  the 
puzzled  Captain.  '•  What  has  a 
chronometer  got  to  do  with  the 
weather  ?" 

"Why,"  replied  the  manipulator 
of  sailors'  hash  and  plnm-dntt',  '•  ev- 
ery morning  the  arrow  would  say 
that  we  were  going  to  have  wind, 
and  half  the  time  it  was  a  flat 
calm." 


A   TERRIBLE  THREAT. 

"I  DON'T  yike  yon, Aunt  Jen- 
nie," said  Wilbur,  after  his  aunt 
had  interfered  with  some  cherish- 
ed idea  he  had  in  mind.  "An'  if 
you  don't  let  me  alone  I'll  save  up 
my  pottet-niouey  an'  buy  a  tapir." 

"  A  what  ?"  asked  his  aunt. 

"A  tapir,"  said  Wilbur.  "An' 
tapirs  tlity  cats  ants  !" 


A  PROMOTION. 

"  How  are  you  getting  on  with  vour  music  lessons,  Har- 
old T" 

"  Bin  promoted." 

"  Indeed  ?" 

"Yeth;  I  play  three-finger  exercises  now,  'stead  o'  two." 


JUST  THE  OTHER  WAY. 
JIMMIEBOY  has  a  very  unbreak- 
able habit  of  getting  up  at  night 
and  running  in  to  his  father's  room 
into  bed  with  him.     He  was  once  chided  for 


EXACTLY  IT. 

"  WELL,  Jack,  I  suppose  you  keep  your  desk  in  apple-pie 
order." 

"Yes.  That's  just  about  it:  everything's  all  tumbled 
up  together  inside  of  it  just  like  the  inside  of  a  pie." 


and  juinpin 
this. 

"  I'm  glad  to  have  you  come  in  the  morning,  bnt  don't 
come  too  early,"  was  the  end  of  the  lecture.  The  next 
night,  however,  Jinimieboy  came  bouncing  in  at  one  o'clock. 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  not  to  do  this,  Jimmieboy  ?"  he  was 
asked. 

"No,"  replied  Jimmieboy.  "You  told  me  not  to  come 
early.  This  isn't  early — it's  awful  late.  After  one  o'clock." 


"  HOLLO,  Fatty,"  said  the  Copy-book  to  the  Dictionary. 

"  Hullo,  Thinny'!"  retorted  the  Dictionary. 

"  You're  a  wordy  person,  Fatty,"  said  the  Copy-book. 

"  You're  an  empty  thing,  Thinny,"  said  the  Dictionary. 

"Bound  to  have  the  last  word,  eh,  Fatty  !"  sneered  the 
Copy-book. 

"Need  it  in  my  business,  Thinuy,"  said  the  Dictionary, 
and  the  Umbrella  in  the  library  corner  laughed  so  hard 
that  it  bent  one  of  its  ribs. 


A    MISTAKE. 

"IT'S  a  great  mistake,"  said  Bobbie  Tompkins,  "to  say 
that  we  Americans  are  horn  free." 

"Why,  Bobbie?" 

"Look  at  that  baby  of  ours.  Was  he  horn  free  ?  I  guess 
not.  He  ain't  allowed  to  do  nothin'  he  wants  ter." 


"THAT  was  a  great  name  of  hall  the  Nomeals  and  Hun- 
gerfoods  played  the  other  day." 
"  Was  it  ?     What  was  the  score  ?" 
"Nothing  to  eight." 


1048 


HARPERS 


ROUND  TABLE 


HI1! 


Copyright,  1895,  by  HAEPEB  &  BEOTHBBS.    All  Rights  Reserved. 


PUBLISHED    WEEKLY. 
VOL.  XVI.—  NO.  834. 


NEW  YORK,  TUESDAY,  OCTOBER  22,   1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO    DOLLARS    A     YEAR. 


SEA     RANGERS. 


BY     KIRK     M  U  N  R  O  E, 


AUTHOR  OF  "  ROAD  RANGERS,"  THE  "MATE"  SERIES,  "SNOW-SHOES  AND  SLEDGES,"  "FUR-SEAL'S  TOOTH,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER     VII. 
LEFT  ON   A  DESOLATE   ISLAND. 

THE  damage  to  the  Milltjirl  was  of  so  serious  a  nature 
that  Captain  Crotty  instantly  realized  the  necessity 
for  prompt  action  if  he  wished  to  save  his  vessel.  So, 
while  shouting  to  the  Rangers  to  get  their  bedding,  provis- 
ions, and  everything  else  movable  np  from  the  hold,  and  so 
place  them  beyond  reach  of  the  in-rushing  waters,  he  headed 
the  sloop  for  the  nearest  beach.  As  she  grounded  in  about 
eight  feet  of  water,  and  while  still  at  some  distance  from 
the  shore,  her  sails  were  lowered,  and  preparations  were, 
made  for  transferring  the  passengers  and  their  belongings 
to  laud.  Of  course  this  disaster  put  a  sudden  end  to  the 
canoe-race  that  had  caused  it,  and  as  the  sloop's  headway 
was  checked,  the  entire  fleet  of  dainty  craft  Hocked  about 
her.  The  canoe-boys  were,  loud  in  their  expressions  of 
sorrow  over  the  sad  plight  of  the  vessel,  and  profuse  in 
their  ofl'ers  of  such  assistance  as  they  could  render. 

The  very  first  to  make  his  canoe  fast  and  scramble  aboard 


was  Tom  Burgess,  whose  appearance  was  received  with  a, 
shout  by  his  fellow  Rangers.  But  they  were  too  busy  res- 
cuing their  belongings  from  the  impending  water  for  any 
more  extended  greeting  just  then.  Besides,  they  were  loo 
greatly  excited  in  tryiug  to  realize  the  astounding  fart 
that  they  were  actually  shipwrecked,  a  situation  they  had 
never  dared  hope  for  even  in  their  wildest  dreams  of  what 
might  happen  during  this  cruise.  So  Tom  and  his  canoe 
friends  turned  in  and  worked  with  the  others,  while  all 
introductions  and  explanations  were  left  for  some  future 
time. 

Young  Jabe  made  trip  after  trip  in  the  small  boat  be- 
tween sloop  and  shore,  carrying  a  big  load  every  time,  and 
in  this  work  he  was  assisted  by  such  of  the  canoes  as  had 
cockpits  of  any  size.  Thus  provisions,  bedding,  a  huge 
tarpaulin,  several  casks  of  fresh  water,  pots,  pans,  and  :i 
certain  amount  of  table-ware  were  soon  coin  eyed  to  the 
beach,  and  there  piled  in  a  promiscuous  heap.  Last  of  all, 
the  shipwrecked  Rangers,  to  whom  the  whole  affair  \\as  a 
delightful  novelty,  were  transferred  to  the  island.  There, 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


mi  longer  restrained  by  a  polite  sympathy  for  Captain 
Crotty,  they  gave  vent  to  Hie ir  1'rplings  in  a  series  of  whoops 
and  howls,  combined  with  antics  that  would  have  done 
credit  to  a  band  of  young  monkexs. 

""Whoop-pen!"  shouted  Si  Caicw.  "Here  \ve  are  ship- 
wrecked, and  cast  away  on  a  desolate  island.  It's  the  real 
thing  too,  and  not  a  bit.  of  make-believe  about  it." 

"Just  like  llnliiHsiiu  Crnxni-  or  .Siri.s.s  Family  Unbiiimiii," 
chimed  in  little  Cal  Moody, joyously  kicking  np  i!ie  warm 
sand  with  his  bare  feet;  'only  I  hope  there  won't  be  an\ 
savages  or  pirai.es." 

".More  like  the  mutineer?-  of  the  .Bottnii/,"  suggested  llai 
Baeou,  "  for  -,ve  did  really  mutiny,  you  know,  and  came  out 
a  head,  too." 

"You  did!"  exclaimed  Tom  Burgess,  in  o-;.eu-eyed  amaze- 
ment. "  How  did  it  happen  1  Tell  us  about  it. 

So  the  story  of  the  cruise  and  its  double  mutiny  bad  to 
be  told  then  and  there  to  Tom  and  the  other  canoe-boys, 
\\ho  listened  with  envious  interest. 

"Well!"  declared  Tom, when  from  the  confused  recital 
of  half  a  dozen  Rangers  at  once  he  had  gleaned  the  main 
points  of  the  story.  "It  beats  anything  I  ever  heard  of 
outside  of  a  book,  and  I  only  wish  I'd  waited  in  Berks  so  as 
to  come  with  you.  But  look  here!  Yon  fellows  haven't 
been  over  to  our  camp  yet.  So  come  on,  and  see  what  you 
think  of  the  New  York  style  of  doing  things.'' 

Tbe  Rangers, only  too  ready  to  see  or  do  anything  new. 
sprang  up.  and  would  have  followed  him  in  a  body,  had 
they  not  been  restrained  by  practical  Will  Rogers,  who 
called  out : 

"Hold  on, fellows!  We've  got  our  own  camp  to  tix  first- 
It's  most  sundown  now,  and  it  wouldn't  be  much  fun  work- 
ing m  the  dark.  Besides,  we've;  got  supper  to  think  of." 

••I'm  thinking  of  it,  now,"  laughed  Mif  Bowers,  "  and 
wouderiug  what  we  are  going  to  do  about  it." 

"Oh,  that '11  be  all  right, "said  Tom  Burgess, hospitably. 
"You'll  all  come  over  and  eat  supper  with  us  to-night,  and 
we'll  help  you  rig  up  your  tent.  Just  wait  till  1  run  over 
and  tell  the  cook." 

The  canoe-boys,  who  knew  nothing  of  the  Rangers'  pre- 
vious training  as  firemen  and  other  things,  under  Will 
Rogers's  leadership,  were  surprised  to  see  the  businesslike, 
manner  with  which  these  country  lads  set  to  work  to  make 
themselves  comfortable.  While  some  cut  tent-poles  or  gath- 
ered firewood,  others  overhauled  the  big  tarpaulin  that  was 
to  form  their  tent,  and  provided  it  with  stout  cords  at  cor- 
ners and  sides  When  it  was  finally  raised  and  stretched 
into  position,  it  formed  a  serviceable  and  roomy  shelter, 
which,  though  lacking  the  whiteness  of  the  New  York 
tents,  was  decidedly  more  picturesque  and  in  keeping  with 
the  Rangers'  present  character  of  shipwrecked  mariners. 
Beneath  its  dingy  spread  all  the  provisions  and  camp 
equipments  were  neatly  piled  on  one  side,  while  the  blan- 
kets, spread  on  the  ground  above  some  bits  of  old  canvas, 
were  so  arranged  on  the  other  as  to  make  one  long  bed. 

All  this  was  hardly  completed  when  the.  loud  banging  of 
:in  iron  spoon  against  a  tin  pan  sounded  a  welcome  supper 
cail  from  the  other  eanip,  while  at  the  same  moment  Tom 
Burgess  appeared  to  act,  as  host  and  escort. 

The  canoe-boys  had  brought  along  a  regular  cook,  and 
their  camp  consisted  of  a  kitchen  tent,  a  mess  tent,  and  a 
big  living  or  sleeping  tent,  in  which,  however,  very  few  of 
them  ever  slept.  It  was  lots  more  fun  to  lie  in  their  canoes 
under  the  little  striped  canoe  tents  hung  from  the  masts, 
and  making  enclosures  so  charmingly  sung,  that  the  Berks 
boys  declared  them  even  superior  to  the  bicycle  shelter 
tnits  that,  had  so  excited  their  admiration  when  they  were 
Road  Rangers. 

As  the  sloop's  galley  was  flooded  with  water.  Captain 
Croltv  and  young  .lube  had  also  accepted  a  supper  invita- 
tion from  the  hospitable  New- Yorkers,  and  while  they  ate. 
the  skipper  outlined  bis  plans  for  the  future.  As  the  tide, 
had  already  turned  ebb  when  the  wreck  occurred,  he  had 
at  once  carried  an  anchor  out  on  Ihe  side  opposite  to  that, 
through  which  the  water  was  pouring.  From  this  anchor 
a  cable  was  extended  to  the'  sloop's  mast-head, and  thence 
led  down  to  the  deck.  Here  it  was  subjected  to  a  heavy 
Strain,  that,  as  the  tide  fell,  would  careen  the  vessel  to  that 


side.  By  this  means  the  skipper  hoped  to  get  at  the  hole 
on  the  opposite  side  and  plug  it.  As  he  could  only  expect 
to  do  this  in  the  crudest  manner  with  the  appliances  at 
hand,  and  as  he  knew  the  leak  would  merely  be  checked 
without  being  stopped,  he  further  proposed  to  leave  his 
passengers  where  they  were  for  a  few  days,  sail  for  the 
nearest  port.  \\  here  be  could  haul  out  for  repairs,  and  return 
for  them  as  ipiiekly  as  possible,  which  proposition  was 
hailed  with  delight  by  both  the  Rangers  and  then  newly 
made  friends. 

This  programme  was  carried  out  as  arranged.  That 
very  evening  the  stranded  vessel  was  careened  by  the  aid 
of  many  willing  hands,  so  that  a  temporary  patch  of  tarred 
canvas  and  boards  could  be  rudely  secured  over  the  jagged 
fracture  that  appeared  in  her  planking  just  under  the 
bend  of  the  bilge.  It  was  midnight  before  this  job  was 
finished,  and  the  hold  was  pumped  comparatively  free  of 
water.  At.  daylight  next  morning,  as  the  tide  served  and 
the  wind  was  fair,  the  Milli/irl,  after  being  revictualled 
from  the  tent,  sailed  away  with  Captain  Crotty  at  the 
helm,  anci  ycrng  Jabe  working  wearily  at  the  pump. 
Work  as  he  alight  he  could  not  gain  an  inch  on  the  leak, 
and,  in  spite  of  the  skipper's  cheery  assurance  that  he 
\\  ould  be  back  again  within  three  or  four  days.  Will  Rogers, 
who  of  all  the  tired  Rangers  was  sole  spectator  of  the  de- 
parture, could  not  repress  a  feeling  of  anxiety  as  the  sloop 
slowly  rounded  the  point  and  disappeared. 

He  was  aroused  from  the  reverie  into  which  he  had  fallen 
by  loud  shouts  from  the  canoe  camp,  and  looking  that  way 
saw  a  line  of  naked  figures  tearing  down  tlie  beach  and 
dashing  into  the  sparkling  waters.  The.  New-Yorkers  were 
taking  the  morning  plunge,  without,  which  no  yachtsman 
nor  canoe-man,  who  is  after  all  only  a  yachtsman  in  a  small 
way,  fails  to  begin  the  day  when  be  is  on  a  cruise.  This 
sight  at  once  altered  the  current  of  Will's  thoughts,  ami 
with  a  yell  that  effectually  startled  his  own  camp  into  wake- 
fulness  he  tore  off  his  clothing  and  took  a  splended  header 
from  a  jutting  rock.  Two  minutes  later  every  Ranger  had 
followed  him,  and  with  the  gambols  of  a  school  of  yon  ng 
porpoises  the  buys  from  Berks  were  revelling  in  their  first, 
salt- wa ter  swim. 

"Isn't,  it.  glorious!"  sputtered  Si  Carew,  as  th  •  dripping- 
lads  finally  emerge. 1  from  their  bath.  "It  beats  rive;- swim- 
ming all  to  nothing." 

"Yes, and  doesn't  it  make  a  fellow  feel  fresh  and  salty  ['" 
cried  Cracker  Bob  Jones. 

"And  shivery,"  chattered  little  C'al  Moody. 
"And  hungry."  added  Mif  Bowers.    "  What  are  we  going 
to  do  for  breakfast.  Will  !'' 

Sure  enough  !  N'o  one  had  thought  of  that,  and  the  Rang- 
ers had  not  even  started  a  fire,  while  in  the  other  camp  the 
cook  was  already  beating  lustily  on  his  big  tin  pan. 

In  this  emergency  the  canoe-boys  again  extended  the 
hospitality  of  their  mess.  Moreover,  they  offered  to  do  this 
so  long  as  tbev  remained  on  the  island  if  the  Rangers  would 
furnish  the  provisions,  as  their  own  were  nearly  exhausted. 
Of  course  the  Berks  boys  readily  entered  into  this  ar- 
rangement, though  Will  Rogers  remarked  to  Hal  Bacon 
that  he  wished  they  had  brought  along  a  larger  supply  of 
provisions,  and  wondered  how  the  New  York  boys  had  ex- 
pected to  hold  out  for  ten  days  longeron  the  scanty  allow- 
ance of  food  remaining  in  their  mess-tent. 

"  They  didn't,"  answered  Lieutenant  Hal.    "  They've  only 
got  to  live  on 'em  for  two  days  more.     This  is  Thursday, 
and  they  are  going  back  on  Saturday, you  know." 
"  What  !"  exclaimed  Will. 

"  Yes, didn't  von  know?  Cousin  Tom  asked  me  last  night 
why  we  didn't  come  sooner,  and  then  1  found  out  that  we 
had  made  a  mistake  in  the  date,  and  got  here  during  the 
second  week  of  their  camp  instead  of  the  first.  It  '11  be  all 
right,  though.  I'm  Captain  Clotty  is  sure  to  be  back  in  a 
lew  days.  In  fad,  I  think  it's  a  lucky  thing  he  had  to 
lea  \  e,  for  he'd  been  certain  to  want  us  to  go  back  when  the 
other  fellows  broke  cam  p,  w  hi  le  now.  perhaps,  w  e  can  stay 
a  whole  week  longer." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Will,  dubiously  "  I  suppose  it's  all  right; 
at  the  same  time  1  shall  be  mighty  glad  to  see  him  coming 
back  " 


1050 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


CMIAl'TK  I!     VIII. 
WAK    CANOKS,  ClilTISKRS,  AND    RACKliS. 

NEVER  in  tbeir  lives  had  tlie  Sea  Rangers  enjoyed  Iliem- 
selves  more  than  they  did  during  the  two  days  following 
that  of  their  shipwreck.  They  swum,  anil  fished,  and  pad- 
dled, anil  watched  the  most  exciting  of  match  races  be- 
r\\,'i'ii  rival  canoes, aud  at  night  gathered  about  the  roar- 
in^  camp-tires  for  songs,  stories,  and  high  jinks,  until  it 
seemed  to  them  that  no  other  form  of  life  was  half  so  well 
worth  living  as  this.  They  looked  back  with  disdain  upon 
the  i|iiiet  humdrum  of  Berks,  with  its  houses  and  beds  and 
school  and  chores,  and  regular  hours  for  meals,  and  all  such 
things.  Even  their  lire-engine  and  their  bicycles  no  longer 
seemed  to  possess  the  attractions  that  had  once  caused 
them  to  appear  so  desirable,  and  when  Sam  Ray  hoped  Cap- 
tain Crotty  would  not  be  able  to  come  for  them  in  less  than 
a  mouth,  lie  voiced  the  sentiment  of  every  Ranger  on  the 
island. 

Their  sole  present  ambition  was  to  become  canoe-men, 
and  all  their  interest  was  centred  in  the  fascinating  craft 
'>!'  I  heir  New  York  friends.  At  the  same  time  they  found  it 
impossible  to  decide  which  of  the  several  types  of  canoe 
represented  at  the  meet  was  the  most  admirable.  There 
was  the  big  war  canoe  Koslt-Kosh,  that,  required  a  dozen 
paddlers  to  urge  it  over  the  water,  and  could  carry  as  many 
more  passengers  as  well.  As  they  dashed  about  the  bay  in 
this  great  craft,  chanting  what  they  believed  to  be  war- 
songs,  and  uttering  blood-curdling  yells,  they  could  easily 
fancy  themselves  South-Sea  warriors  bound  ou  a  foray, 
against  the  cannibals  of  some  adjacent  island. 

Besides  this  huge  vessel  there  were  other  paddling  canoes, 
light  open  affairs  in  each  of  which  two  boys,  transformed 
for  the  time  being  into  Indian  hunters,  could  glide  swiftly 
ami  silently  in  and  out  of  sheltered  coves,  or  close  under 
overhanging  banks,  in  search  of  game  or  scalps,  they  cared 
not  which. 

Then  there  were  sailing  canoes  of  two  kinds — cruisers 
and  racers — dainty  bits  of  cabinet-work  built  of  cedar  and 
mahogany, Tarnished  and  polished  until  they  glistened  in 
the  sun  light,  lifted  with  spars  not  much  heavier  than  fish  ing- 
rods. silken  or  linen  sails,  delicate-looking  but  unbreakable, 
cordage,  and  cunning  little  blocks  of  boxwood  or  aluminum 
that  would  answer  equally  well  for  watch-charms.  The, 
cruisers  had  open  cockpits  long  enough  to  lie  down  in  at 
full  length.  At  night  these,  covered  by  tents  of  striped  awu- 
ing  cloth,  and  lighted  by  little  swinging  lanterns,  formed 
the  coziest  of  cabins.  Thus  housed,  the  cruising  canoe-man 
could  cook  a  meal  over  an  alcohol  lamp,  eat  it  from  a  hatch- 
cover  table,  lie  at  his  ease,  and  read,  or  turn  in  and  sleep 
through  rain  aud  storm  as  snug  aud  dry  and  thoroughly 
comfortable  as  though  in  his  own  home.  "Besides  having 
a  thousand  times  more  fun,"  as  Tom  Burgess  said,  while  all 
the  Rangers  well  agreed  that  he  spoke  the  truth. 

Tom  owned  a  cruiser,  and  to  him,  of  course,  she  was  the 
most  perfect  craft  in  the  world.  "She  can  go  anywhere 
that  a  yacht  can,  except,  of  course,  across  the  ocean,  or  on 
vo\ages  like  that,"  he  explained,  "and  into  lots  of  places 
that  a  yacht  can't,  besides,  such  as  up  small  streams  and 
down  rapids.  You  can  either  sail  or  paddle  in  her,  and  if 
a  storm  comes,  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  run  your  ship  ashore, 
step  out,  haul  her  beyond  reach  of  the  tide,  and  there  you 
are.  just  as  comfortable  and  well  fixed  as  if  you  owned  the 
l>iiv_;est  hotel  in  New  York  city." 

At  tractive  as  they  found  the  cruisers,  some  of  the  Rang- 
ers t  bought  the  racers  even  more  so.  They  too  were  decked 
over,  but  their  cockpits  were  only  little  wells- just  big 
enough  for  one's  feet.  All  else  was  water-tight  compart- 
ment, so  that,  even  if  the  canoe  were  rolled  over  and  over 
in  the  water,  she  could  not  till  or  sink,  but  would  float 
on  the  surface  like  a  bubble.  The  sails  of  a  racer  were 
t\\  ire  as  large'  as  those  of  a  cruiser,  and  to  keep  her  right 
side  up  under  her  great  spread  of  silk  or  linen  the  crew 
would  "  hike"  himself  out  ou  the  end  of  a-  long  sliding 
deck-seat,  and  there,  poised  in  mid-air,  would  skim  above 
tin1  crests  of  the  waves  with  the  speed  and  safety  of  a  sea- 
bird.  The'  racer's  sails  cannot  be  lowered,  and  are  never 
reefed;  but  if  the  squall  blows  so  heavy  that  the,  outboard 


weight  of  the  crew  can  no  longer  hold  the  canoe  up  to  it, 
he  allows  her  to  uracefiilly  capsize,  and  the  outspread  sails 
lie  flat  on  the  water,  while  he  clings  to  the  air-tight  hull,  or 
stands  on  the  brass  centre-plate  until  the  blow  moderates. 
Then,  using  his  sliding-seat  as  a  lever,  he  pulls  his  craft 
once  more  into  an  upright  position,  scrambles  aboard,  and 
speeds  away  as  though  nothing  had  happened.  This  sort 
of  work  is  like  circus-riding,  and  only  through  much  prac- 
tice may  one  attain  perfection  at  it ;  lint  as  the  Sea  Rangers 
watched  the  movements  of  the  swift-darting  racers,  it 
seemed  to  them  not  only  the  most  fascinating  sport  in  the- 
world,  but  also  the  perfection  of  sailing. 

They  were  even  ready  to  admit  that  all  their  previous 
knowledge  of  seamanship  and  sailing  was  but  ignorance 
when  compared  with  that  they  were  now  acquiring. 

As  Cracker  Bob  Jones  said  :  "  What  chumps  we  were  to 
think  we  knew  how  to  handle  a  boat  before  we  came  here. 
Now,  though,  we  have  got  the  whole  thing  down  so  fine 
that  if  ever  we  get  a  chance  to  sail  all  by  ourselves,  I 
rather  guess  somebody  '11  be  surprised." 

lu  spite  of  this  self-confidence,  all  that  Cracker  Bob  or 
any  others  of  the  Rangers  really  knew  of  canoe-sailing  was 
what  they  learned  by  looking  ou  ;  for  while  the  canoe-men 
were  perfectly  willing  to  take  them  out  paddling,  not  one 
of  them  cared  to  trust  his  fragile  craft  to  inexperienced 
hands  when  under  sail. 

If  the  Sea  Rangers  were  pleased  with  the  New  York  boys 
and  their  belongings,  the  latter  were  no  less  so  with  the 
lads  from  Berks,  and  when,  on  the  last  evening  of  the  meet, 
the,  latter  enlivened  the  camp-fire  gathering  with  several 
scenes  from  Blue  Billows  they  fairly  "brought  down  the 

house." 

In  one  way  it  is  sad  that  all  such  good  times  must  come 
to  an  end,  though  if  they  did  not  they  would  soon  cease  to 
be  good  times,  and  we  should  long  for  anything  in  the  way 
of  a  change.  The  Rangers  had  not  wearied  of  tbrs  good 
time,  though,  by  Saturday  morning,  and  when  the  steamer 
appeared  that  was  to  take  the  canoe-boys  back  to  the  big 
city  they  openly  rejoiced  that  their  own  hour  for  departure 
had  not  yet  arrived.  In  vain  did  Tom  Burgess  and  his  com- 
rades urge  them  to  take  advantage  of  this  opportunity  for 
leaving  the  island,  aud  so  return  to  Berks  by  way  of  New 
York.  They  declared  that  they  were  bound  to  await  Cap- 
tain Crotty's  return  in  the  very  place  where  he  had  left 
them,  and  found  a  dozen  other  reasons  for  declining  the  in- 
vitation. So  the  canoe -men  reluctantly  boarded  their 
steamer,  aud  with  much  cheering  and  blowing  of  the  steam- 
whistle,  and  dipping  of  flags,  and  waving  of  hats,  sailed 
away,  leaving  the  island  to  the  undisturbed  possession  of 
our  young  Sea  Rangers. 

No  sooner,  however,  was  the  steamer  lost  to  view  and  the 
boys  from  Berks  realized  that  their  sole  means  of  com- 
munication with  the  world  was  thus  cut  off,  than  they  be- 
gan to  experience  a  complete  change  of  feeling.  Will 
Rogers  was  struggling  bravely  against  it  as  he  shouted : 

"  Hurrah,  fellows!  Now  we  are  really  aud  truly  cast 
away  on  a  desolate  island,  and  thrown  on  our  own  re- 
sources. Isn't  it  fun,  though !  aud  aren't  we  in  great  luck  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  admitted  one  or  two  of  the  others, 
hesitatingly;  but  Cal  Moody  spoke  right,  out,  and  said  he 
thought  it  was  awful,  and  lie  wished  Captain  Crotty  would 
come,  or  that  they  were  safe  at  home  in  Berks,  or  any- 
where except  on  that  horrid  island.  The  little  chap  was 
about  ready  to  cry ;  but  was  prevented  by  Will  Rogers, 
who,  realizing  the  effect  of  such  despondency  on  the  ot  hers, 
sang  out: 

"  Oh,  cheer  up,  Cal  !  What's  the  matter  with  you  ?  The 
skipper's  sure  to  be  here  in  a  day  or  two,  and  is  probably 
on  his  way  to  us  at  this  very  minute.  And  we've  got  lots 
to  do  before  be  comes,  I  can  tell  you.  We  must  hoist  a  sig- 
nal  of  distress  on  the  very  highest  place  we  can  find,  and 
explore  the  island  so  as  to  discover  its  resources,  and  fortify 
our  camp  against — well,  against  anything,  you  know,  and 
all  sorts  of  things.  llesides,  we've  got  to  cook  dinner,  and 
I  think  we'd  better  start  in  on  that  the  very  first  thing." 

With  their  gloom  a  little  brightened  by  the  prospect  of 
immediate  action,  the  Rangers  set  to  work  to  prepare  the 
first  meal  that  they  had  ever  nnderiakcn  all  by  themselves. 


1051 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


They  were  somewhat  dismayed  to  discover  what,  serious 
inroads  had  been  made  in  their  stock  of  provisions;  for 
only  a  portion  of  what  was  originally  placed  ou  board  (be 
sloop  had  been  rescued  from  the  inflowing  water  when  she, 
was  wrecked,  and  in  anticipation  of  her  speedy  return  this 
had  been  used  with  the  utmost  freedom,  not  to  say  reck- 
lessness. But  this  was  a  trifling  cause  for  anxiety  when 
compared  with  the  startling  announcement  that  the  con- 
tents of  their  largest  water-barrel  had  leaked  away  until 
it  was  empty.  Only  one  small  cask  of  water  remained  to 
them;  and,  upon  learniug  this,  every  Ranger  immediately 
imagined  that  he  was  suffering  from  a,  burning  thirst. 

About  cooking  they  really  knew  very  little,  though  each 
member  thought  he  knew  enough  to  prepare  a  pretty  fair 
meal  for  people,  who  were  not  particular.  So  they  all  tried 
their  hands  at  getting  up  that  dinner,  and  a  sadder  culinary 
failure  was  never  made.  Everything  was  smoked,  burned, 
underdone,  or  in  some  other  way  made  uneatable,  and  they 
finally  partook  of  a  most  unsatisfactory  meal  of  dry  crackers 
and  smoked  herring,  which  made  them  so  very  thirsty  that 
but  for  the  firmness  of  their  young  captaiu  they  would 
have  drained  the  small  cask  then  and  there. 

The  cooking  of  succeeding  meals  was  equally  unsatis- 


factory, and  by  nightfall  of  the  second  day  after  the  de- 
parture of  their  friends  our  Rangers  had  not  only  expended 
most  of  their  provisions  aud  drunk  up  all  their  water,  but 
were  thoroughly  alarmed  at  their  situation.  The  whole 
of  that  day  had  been  spent  ou  the  highest  point  of  the  isl- 
and, gazing  with  strained  eyes  over  the  surrounding  waters 
in  the  hope  of  sighting  some  approaching  sail.  With  the 
coming  of  darkness  they  sadly  returned  to  camp,  and  fling- 
ing themselves  gloomily  down  on  their  blankets,  sought 
forgetfnluess  of  their  unhappy  situation  in  troubled  sleep. 

Some  hours  later  Will  Rogers  was  awakened  by  little 
Cal  Moody,  who  said,  iu  a  terrified  whisper:  "Oh,  Will, 
there  are  pirates  on  the  island,  and  they  are  swearing 
dreadfully,  and  I  know  we're  all  going  to  be  murdered. 
I've  been  listening  aud  watching  them  for  a  long  time. 
See  their  lights  down  there  ?" 

Sure  enough,  Will  could  see  lights,  like  moving  lan- 
terns, down  on  the  beach  aud  out  on  the  water,  where  they 
seemed  to  be  passing  to  aud  fro  betweeu  the  land  and 
a  vessel  that  was  dimly  visible  in  the  little  harbor.  He 
could  also  hear  loud  rough  voices,  and,  as  Cal  had  said, 
some  of  them  were  swearing. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


THE     BUILDING    OF    MODERN     WONDERS. 


AN  ELECTRIC  TKOLLEY-CAK. 


BY   HERBERT  LAWS   WEIiH. 


ONE  day,  not  very  long  ago,  when  electric  cars  were 
something  of  a  novelty,  a  city  official  was  talking 
about  them  to  one  of  the  electrical  engineers  in  charge  of 
a  certain  electric  railway. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  said  he,  "that  those  trolley-poles  ou 
top  of  the  cars  ought  to  be  very  much  stronger  than  they 
are." 

"  Why  so  ?"  asked  the  electrical  man.  "  We  very  seldom 
have  any  accident  with  them.  They  almost  never  break." 

"Don't  they?"  queried  the  other,  with  some  astonish- 
ment. "Well,  they  don't  look  to  me  half  strong  enough 
to  push  those  heavy  cars  along." 

I  suppose  very  few  readers  of  the  ROUND  TABLE  have 
such  very  foggy  ideas  about  electric  cars  as  that  man  had. 
But  still  it  is  something  of  a  mystery  to  many  people  how 
the  slender  wire  stretched  along  the  street  takes  the  place 
of  the  hundreds  of  tuggiug  horses  or  of  the  rattling, 
whirring  cable  that  glides  ceaselessly  through  the  long 
iron  trough  under  the  pavement. 

Many  years  ago  one  of  those  famous  scientific  men  wno 
were  always  making  experiments  to  discover  new  things 
about,  electricity,  so  as  to  enable  practical  raeu  in  these 
days  to  invent  machines  to  do  useful  work,  discovered  that 
when  he  moved  a  wire  about  in  front  of  a  magnet  an  elec- 
tric current  appeared  in  the  wire.  This  was  a  great  dis- 
covery, because  it  brought  to  light  the  wonderful  sympathy 
between  magnetism  aud  electricity.  It  made  no  difference 
whether  the  wire  or  the  magnet  were  moved;  as  long  as 
they  were  close  enough  together  any  movement  of  either 
caused  a  current  to  appear  in  the  wire. 

Then  another  famous  discoverer  found  that  by  winding 
a  wire  round  a  bar  of  iron  and  sending  a  current  of  elec- 
tricity through  the  wire  he  turned  the  bar  of  iron  iuto  a 


magnet.  As  long  as  tlio  current  was  passing  through  tha 
wire  the  iron  har  acted  just  like  a  permanent  steel  magnet ; 
it  would  attract,  pieces  of  iron  and  hold  up  nails,  but  the 
moment  the  current  was  stopped  the  bar  lost  its  magnetism, 
the  nails  or  pieces  of  iron  dropped  off,  and  it  became  just,  an 
ordinary  bar  of  irou  again.  This  invention  is  called  the 
electro -magnet,  aud  the  electro -magnet  is  used  iu  some 
form  or  other  in  every  electrical  industry. 

The  electric  dynamo  owes  its  being  to  those  two  dis- 
coveries. It  consists  of  coils  of  copper  wire  wound  on  a 
shaft,  and  that  shaft  is  revolved  close  to  a  powerful  magnet. 
The  influence  of  the  magnet  causes  electric  currents  to  be 
produced  in  the  coils  of  copper  wire,  and  these  currents  are 
delivered  by  the  coils  into  suitable  conductors  or  wires  by 
means  of  v.  bich  the  currents  are  led  to  the  place  where 
they  have  to  do  their  work.  One  very  interesting  thing 
about  the  modern  dynamo  machine  is  that,  it  is  what  elec- 
trical men  call  "  self-exciting."'  That  does  not  mean  that 
it  gets  into  a  state  of  excitement  about  itself.  It  means 
that  the  dynamo  provides  its  own  magnetism.  At  first 
dynamos  were  made  with  great  big  steel  magnets,  but 
those  were  very  expensive  aud  unsatisfactory.  Then  a 
clever  inventor  hit  upon  the  plan  of  using  electro-magnets, 
and  sending  part  of  the  current  of  the  dynamo  through 
th'sir  coils  to  give  them  magnetism.  This  is  the  action  of 
the  self-exciting  dynamo.  When  the  collection  of  coils 
wound  ou  the  revolving  shaft,  first  begins  to  turn, very  little 
current  is  produced,  because  there  is  very  little  magnetism 
iu  the  iron  magnets.  Part  of  this  current  goes  through  the 
magnet  coils  and  increases  the  magnetism  ;  this  strengthens 
the  current  in  the  coils,  and  this  process  goes  on  until,  after 
a  few  minutes,  the  magnets  are  fully  magnetized  and  the 
coils  are  giving  their  full  strength  of  current. 


Trofley    , 


7   V  >  '  i      E  . 


Diagram  showing  the  electric  circuit  through  each  car,  and  illustrating  the  method  of  sending  more  than  one  car  along  the  same  wire. 

1052 


HAEPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Some  time  aft- 
er this  was  discov- 
ered, it  became 
known  tbat  if  the 
two  wires  from  a 
dynamo  were  join- 
ed to  a  st-roiid  dyn- 
amo instead  of  to 
an  electric  lamp, 
this  second  dyna- 
mo would  revolve, 
and  could  be  used 
to  drive  a  ma- 
chine, such  as  a 
sewing  -  machine 
or  a  prill  ting-press. 

At  first  this 
electric  motor,  as 
it  was  called,  was 
used  only  for 
turning  wheels 
that  were  station- 
ary, but  it  was 
soon  seen  that 
there  was  good 
work  for  it  to  do 
in  turning  wheels 
that  should  travel 
along  over  the 
ground.  Then  be- 
gan the  electric 
railway. 

Having  got  your 
electric  motor  it 
would  seem  a  com- 
paratively easy 
job  to  mount  it  on 
a  car,  to  fix  up  a 

moving  connection  with  an  electric  wire,  and  to  make  the 
motor  turn  the  car-wheels.  It  looks  easy  enough  to-day  in 
places  where  hundreds  of  horseless  cars  are  running  about 
in  all  directions  as  if  by  magic.  In  the  beginning  it  was  no 
such  an  easy  job,  and  those  who  led  the  way  in  the  building 
and  running  of  electric  cars  had  many  difficulties  to  con- 
tend with  and  many  obstacles  to  overcome  before  they 
made  the  electric  street-car  the  practical  every-day  aft'air 
that  it  is  now. 

Just,  look  first  at  your  electric  motor.  It  is,  like  all  elec- 
trical instruments  and  machines,  a  pretty  delicate  affair, 
very  likely  to  suft'er  serious  injury  from  hard  usage  or  ex- 
posure to  bad  weather. 

To  place  such  a  machine  underneath  a  jolting  car  close 
to  the  surface  of  the  street,  and  make  it  work  properly  at 
all  times  and  in  all  weathers,  is  no  small  feat.  One  great 
difficulty  was  to  keep  the  wire  coils  of  the  motor  properly 
insulated.  If  two  neighboring  coils  get  connected  with 
each  other  the  motor  goes  wrong,  and  as  water  is  a  power- 
ful conductor  of  electricity  such  accidents  often  happened 
at  first  through  parts  of  the  motor  getting  wet  from  splash- 
ings  from  the  street.  Now  motors  are  made  water-proof, 
and  the  cars  go  along  merrily,  even  though  there  may  be 
an  inch  or  two  of  water  in  the  streets,  or  several  inches  of 
snow  or  slush. 

The  motor  is  attached  to  the  frame  of  the  car-truck,  and 
the  power  is  transmitted  to  the  axle  of  the  ear  by  means 
of  gearing.  In  some  electric  locomotives  that  have  been 
made,  the  armature  of  the  motor  is  wound  on  the  axle  it- 
self, but  for  ordinary  street  cars  it  is  found  best  to  keep 
the  motor  separate  from  the  axle,  and  to  transmit  the 
power  by  geared  wheels. 

The  current  reaches  the  motor  under  the  car  by  means 
of  the  trolley-wheel  and  pole.  The  trolley-wheel  is  a  solid 
copper  wheel,  deeply  grooved,  which  is  pressed  upward 
against  the  bare  copper  wire  stretched  over  the  middle  of 
the  track  ;  the  long  flexible  pole,  which  carries  the  trolley- 
wheel  has  a  strong  spring  which  tends  to  press  it  forward, 
and  so  keeps  the  wheel  always  firmly  pressed  against  the 
wire  however  much  the  car  may  jump  about  in  rough 


THE    TROLLEY-CAR. 


places.  An  insulated  wire  connected  with  the  trolley- 
wheel  is  led  down  the  pole  and  through  the  car  to  the 
switches  and  regulating  boxes  placed  at  either  end  of  the 
car,  just  against  the  dash-board.  No  current  can  reach 
the  motor  without  passing  through  the  switch  and  regu- 
ulating  box  under  control  of  the  motorman.  With  the 
switch  the  motormau  ean  turn  the  current  on  or  otf  com- 
pletely, he  can  regulate  the  amount  of  current  that  reaches 
the  motor  so  as  to  start  gradually  or  go  slowly  in  crowded 
places,  or  fast  in  quiet  ones,  and  he  can  even  reverse  the 
motor  and  make  the  car  go  backwards,  a  thing  that  neither 
the  driver  of  the  horse-car  nor  the  gripman  of  the  cable-car 
can  do. 

Perhaps  it  is  not  quite  clear  how  so  many  motors  can 
work  from  a  single  line.  As  a  rule  electric  railways  are 
provided  with  but  a  single  wire  from  which  the  motors 
obtain  their  supply  of  current,  and  this  system  has  come 
to  be  called  the  single  trolley  system  in  distinction  to  the 
double  trolley,  or  double  wire  system,  which  was  tried  in 
the  early  days  but  has  been  abandoned  in  all  but  one  or 
two  places.  The  single  wire  hung  over  the  centre  of  the 
track  carries  the  current  out  from  the  station  where  the 
dynamos  are  placed,  and  the  rails  and  the  earth  carry  it 
back  to  the  dynamos  after  it  has  passed  through  the  mo- 
tors and  has  done  its  work.  The  trolley  wire  is  kept  con- 
stantly charged  with  electricity,  which  the  dynamos  at  the 
power  station  pump  into  it,  much  as  if  they  were  puuipiug- 
engines  forcing  water  into  a  long  pipe.  If  any  connection 
is  made,  by  means  of  an  electrical  conductor,  between  the 
trolley-wire  and  the  ground,  the  current  will  flow  down 
into  the  ground.  The  only  connections  made  with  it  are 
those  made  by  the  cars,  and  then  the  current  has  to  pass 
through  the  motors  and  turn  the  wheels. 

The  trolley-wire  has  to  be  carefully  put  up  so  as  to  be 
just  the  right  height,  and  exactly  in  the  middle  of  the 
track.  It  must  be  properly  insulated  so  as  to  prevent  the 
escape  of  the  current  down  the  poles  or  along  the  suspen- 
sion wires,  so  at  every  point  where  it  is  attached  to  a  pole 
or  a  suspension  wire  it  is  hung  from  an  insulator  of  some 
material  that  will  not  conduct  electricity.  Every  here 


1053 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


and  there  you  will  notice  that  heavy  electric  wires  or 
cables  are  connected  with  the  trolley-wires.  These  wires 
are  called  "  feeders"  ;  they  are  ruu  out  from  the  dynamos  at 
the  power-house,  and  connect  on  to  the  trolley-wire  to  force 
fresh  supplies  of  current  into  it.  When  an  electric  cnrreut 
tiavels  along  a  wire  it  loses  a  certain  amount  of  power  by 
reason  of  the  resistance  or  electrical  friction  of  the  wire 
itself,  so  in  order  to  keep  the  supply  of  current  up  to  the 
proper  pitch  required  for  working  the  motors  at  all  points 
of  the  line,  these  "feeders"  are  run  out  from  the  power- 
house, and  they  literally  feed  the  trolley- wire  with  the 
rnnvnt  that  the  cars  are  always  demanding  from  it. 

It  is  often  said  in  the  newspapers  that  the  trolley-wire 
is  very  dangerous  to  human  life.  This  is  uot  really  so. 
Nobody  has  ever  been  killed  by  a  shock  from  a  trolley-wire. 
The  current  used  for  electric  rail  ways,  although  great  power 
is  conveyed  by  it,  has  not  the  property  of  giving  a  fatal 
shock  to  the  human  system.  There  are  just  as  great  ditfer- 
e i ires  between  the  electric  currents  used  for  different  pur- 
poses as  there  are  between  streams  of  water.  Some  streams 
have,  great  volume,  but  very  slow  flow,  others  fly  out  of  a 
half- inch  nozzle  with  sufficient  velocity  to  drill  a  hole 
through  a  man's  body  as  cleanly  as  a  rifle  bullet.  It  is  the 
same  with  an  electric  current.  You  may  have  a  current 
capable  of  fusing  bars  of  iron,  yet  you  could  not  feel  it  pass 
through  your  body,  and  another  kind  of  current  that  can 
be  carried  by  a  fine  wire  will  give  a  shock  strong  enough 
to  kill.  Therefore,  believe  me,  there  is  a  great  deal  of  non- 
sense written  in  the  newspapers  about  the  '•  deadly  trolley." 

Where  the  "  deadlines:! "  of  the  trolley  certainly  conies  in 
is  in  the  extreme  handiiiess  of  the  cars.  The  horse-car 
driver  has  hard  work  to  get  much  speed  out  of  his  team ; 
the  gripman  of  the  cable -car  can  go  no  faster  than  the 
cable  will  drag  him  ;  but  the  motormau  of  the  trolley-car 
can  with  a  twirl  of  his  wrist  send  his  heavy  car  bounding 
on  like  a  thing  of  life.  The  temptation  to  "speed  up" 
when  it  is  so  easily  done  is  too  much  for  human  nature. 
This  accounts  for  the  many  accidents  that  occur,  though  it 
is  only  fair  to  say  that  the  fault  is  partly  with  the  mothers 
who  allow  their  little  ones  to  play  in  streets  where  there 
are  car  tracks,  for  the  victims  of  the  trolley-cars  seem  to  be 
nearly  always  young  children. 


A   PARTNERSHIP  ARRANGEMENT. 

BY   WALTER  CLARKE  NICHOLS. 

A  PARTNERSHIP  once,  as  some  historians  state, 
Was  formed  on   the  banks  of  the  slow-flowing  Nile 
By  a  young  Cheshire  cat,  an  elephant  straight 
From  the  jungle,  and,  thirdly,  an   old  crocodile. 

"For  surely,"  the  elephant  plausibly  said, 

"  We  can  all  of  us  turn  in  the  forth-coming  years, 

When  sad,  to  the  crocodile,  whom  we've  been  led 
To  believe  an  exceptional  expert  in  tears." 

"Quite  right,"  quoth  the  latter.     "Wo  cannot  begin 
Too  early,  and  when  we  need  mutual  mirth 

We  can  look  to  our  pussie,  whose  broad  Cheshire  grin 
Excels  in  duration  all  others  on  earth.'' 

"And  then,  when  we're  travelling,"  chimed  in  the  cat, 
Who   had   been   for  some   moments   in   solemn    thought 
sunk, 

"' \Ve  can  carry  conveniently  coat,  shoes,  and  hat. 

Since  we'll  always  have  with  us  the  elephant's  trunk." 


MANY  boys  and  girls  have  seen  the  famous  actor  Joe 

Jefferson  in  his  great  play  Hip  I'nii  11'iitkle,  that  delight  fill 
story  of  the  Catskill  fairies,  and  in  it  that  weird  scene 
where  he  partakes  of  the  spirits  that  the  elves  give  him, 
making  him  sleep  for  twenty  years.  Well,  there  is  a  good 
.story  told  about  Jefferson  in  that  part icular  scene.  Once 
being  near  some  good  fishing- grounds,  he  spent  the  day 
drawing  in  the  gamy  trout,  and  was  thoroughly  tired 
when  the  curtain  rolled  up  for  the  evening  performance. 
Things  moved  smoothly  enough  until  he  is  supposed  to  fall 


asleep.  Now  that  sleep  in  fiction  lasts  twenty  years,  but 
on  the  stage  abmit  two  minutes.  This  time,  how  ever,  the 
two  minutes  were  lengthened  out  into  ten,  much  to  the 
amusement  of  the  audience  and  provocation  of  the  stage- 
manager.  Jefferson  had  really  fallen  asleep,  and  his  snores. 
it  is  said.  \\e,e  quite  audible  beyond  the  footlight.  Sev- 
eral remarks  were  fired  at  him  by  the  audience,  and,  final- 
ly, the  stage-manager  had  to  go  beneath  the  stage  and  open 
a  trap  near  where  Jefferson  was  lying  to  try  and  wake  him 
up. 

He  called  and  called,  but  it  was  110  use,  and  in  despera- 
tion he  succeeded  in  jabbing  a  pin  into  him,  which  made 
Jefferson  jump  up  with  a  sharp  cry.  and  quickly  realize 
where  he  was. 


"A    PIECE   OF   WORK." 

BY  JAMES    BARNES. 

npHE  train-despatcher's  window  at  the  Jimtown  crossing 
JL  commanded  a  good  view  of  the  yards.  It  was  a  \\et 
night,  with  a  penetrating  drizzle  so  fine  that  it  almost  led 
one  to  believe  that  the  earth  was  steaming  from  the  hear 
of  the  forenoon.  The  ray  of  light  that  shot  over  the  train- 
despatcher's  shoulder  as  he  looked  out  into  the  darkness 
showed,  however,  that  it  was  rain  drifting  downwards  in 
the  minutest  drops. 

It  was  almost  time  for  the  night  despatcher,  Rollins,  to 
put  in  an  appearance,  and  Mr.  Mingle  looked  at  his  watch 
and  drummed  with  his  fingers  on  the  pane  of  glass. 

The  light  of  the  switchmen's  -lanterns  occasionally 
gleamed  from  the  shining  slippery  rails.  A  noisy  little 
engine  that  had  been  drilling  freight  cars  about  the  yard 
stopped  on  the  siding  just  beneath  the  window,  and  com- 
menced to  roar  angrily  with  a  burst  of  feathery  vapor. 
The  despatcher  watched  the  fireman  open  the  door  of  the 
furnace  and  stand  for  an  instant  silhouetted  against  the 
red  glare  that  was  reflected  by  the  dampness  all  around. 
Suddenly  as  he,  glanced  up  he*saw  a  man  on  the  top  of  a 
freight  car  across  the  yards  swing  his  lantern  about  his 
head  and  make  a  jump  clear  to  the  ground  into  a  pile  of 
cinders. 

"  That  was  a  foolish  thing  to  do,"  said  Mr.  Mingle  to 
himself.  "He  might  have  broken  his  legs;  then  he'd  have 
sued  the  company." 

The  man  was  uot  injured,  however,  for  he  skipped  across 
the  tracks  and  approached  the  tower-house  on  a  ruu.  He 
stopped  and  shouted  to  the  fireman  of  the  engine  that  was 
raising  such  a  row  beneath  the  window.  The  glow  from 
the  rosy  coals  made  everything  quite  plain. 

Never  in  his  life  had  Mr.  Mingle  seen  a  face  wear  such 
a  look  as  that. 

The  tiremau  closed  the  furnace  door  with  a  slam,  and 
the  engineer,  who  had  been  out  on  the  foot-board,  hurried 
back  at  a  gesture.  Two  words,  and  he  dropped  the  bundle 
of  waste  in  his  hand  and  pulled  wide  the  throttle.  At,  the 
same  time  the  engine  shrieked  for  open  switches.  What 
could  it  mean  f  As  the  despatcher  turned  to  the  door  of 
the  staircase  he  ran  into  the  man  whose  face  he  had  seen 
in  the  glare  from  the  lire-box.  It  was  the  assistant  yard- 
master. 

"Lord,  Mr.  Mingle!"  he  exclaimed,  "is  No.  44  on  time? 
Hurry  and  find' out!  Has  she  passed  the  junction  yet?" 

The  despatcher  irr  one  stride  stepped  to  the  instrument 
on  the  desk.  With  his  fingers  on  the  key -board,  he 
paused.  "  Tell  me  quickly,"  he  said.'  "  what  has  happened. 
Talk,  man!" 

"The ore  train  ["exclaimed  the  yard-master,  sinking  back 
into  the  worn  arm-chair  and  dropping  his  hands  helplessly 
to  either  side  of  him.  "  Some  one  left  the  switch  open,  ai'd 
the  brakes  slipped  or  something.  She  pulled  out  by  her- 
self down  the  grade  on  the  main  track.  I  saw  her  going 
from  the  top  of  the  freight.  How  she  started,  Lord  knows. 
She  slipped  out  like  a  ghost,  sir." 

Mr.  Mingle  had  caught  only  the  first  few  words.  His 
nervous  hand  was  jumping  as  he  sounded  the  call  for  the 
operator  at  Selina  Junction,  twenty-five  miles  down  the 
road.  At  last  he  stopped,  and  suddenly  switched  off  for 
the  return. 


1054 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


'•Tick!  Tick!  Tiek-a-tick !"  the  auswer  came;  the 
yard-master  watched  the  drspatcher's  face  as  a  condemned 
man  might  look  at  the  face  of  a  judge — and  Mr.  Mingle 
had  grown  paler. 

"Forty-four  has  just  passed  the  junction,"  he  said,  in  a 
high  strained  voice.  Then  liis  teeth  chattered  as  if  he 
had  felt  a  blast  of  icy  wind.  Then-  was  nothing  to  do. 

Fifteen  of  that  twenty-five,  miles  was  all  down  grade  on 
a  single  track  —  a  bad  grade  that  necessitated  an  extra 
engine  to  help  its  brother  puff  and  tug  the  heavy  trains 
up  out  of  the  valley.  Between  Jimtowii  and  the  junction 
there  was  no  station,  and  only  one  siding  that  ran  out  to 
tin-  Fetterolf  quarries,  ten  miles  below. 

"The  switch  engine  has  gone  after  her,"  said  the  yard- 
master.  "If  she  can  catch  up  before  they  reach  the  strep 
grade  near  the  pine  woods  they  may  be  able  to  make  a 
flying  couple." 

••  Slic  will  never  catch  them  now,"  said  Mr.  Mingle. 
"Heaven  help  all  in  44!"  A  great  sob  like  a  shiver  shook 
him.  "Quick,  hurry,  Tomes V  he  said,  shaking  the  yard- 
master  violently.  "Make  up  a  wrecking  train,  and  send  one 
of  the  boys  to  gather  all  the  doctors.  There  are  three  of 
them  up  near  the  hotel.  I'll  telegraph  headquarters.  They 
will  be  safe  for  twenty  minutes  yet.  Hurry,  man.  Don't  sit 
there  like  a  fool !" 

The  yard-master  slipped  his  hat  on  his  head  and  plunged 
down  the  steep  stairway. 

The  despateher  rubbed  his  forehead. 

It  was  a  hard  thing  to  do!  Sixty  miles  away  they  would 
know  of  the  accident  before  it  occurred,  simply  by  his 
touching  the  little  instrument  that  his  trembling  hand 
reached  forward  for.  How  could  he  begin  the  message  ? 
The  idea  of  that  load  of  ore  gathering  frightful  headway 
every  minute,  whirling  along  through  the  darkness  toward 
that  slowly  approaching  train,  made  him  sick  and  faint. 
There  was  going  to  be  a  wreck,  and  nothing  in  the  whole 
world  could  stop  it.  In  his  mind's  eye  he  could  see  the 
crash.  He  could  see  what  that  fireman  and  engineer  of 
44  would  see  through  the  rain  -  drops  in  the  glare  from 
the  head -light,.  Old  Jack  Lane,  he  knew  him  well.  It 
would  be  Jack's  last  trip.  There  would  not  be  time  to 
think  ;  no  time  to  press  the  throttle.  It  would  be  ou  them 
all  at  once. 

The  despateher  called  up  headquarters.  Would  they 
never  auswer?  It  seemed  already  half  an  hour  since  the 
yard-master  had  left,  him. 

Somebody  thumped  up  the  stairway. 

"  Hello,  Mixer!"  said  a  cheerful  voice.  "Fine  night  for 
ducks,  eh  f"  The  speaker,  a  young  man  with  a  slight  athletic 
frame, dashed  his  hat  on  the  table.  •' What's  up,  cully  ?"  he 
asked;  as  Mr.  Mingle  turned  from  the  instrument,  and  the 
other  caught,  a  glimpse  of  his  scared  while  fare. 

Mr.  Mingle's  voice  was  hoarse,  as  if  he  had  been  shouting, 
but  lie  spoke  slowly  and  distinctly.  The  young  man  he  had 
been  addressing  had  thrown  off  his  rubber  coat.  The  tails 
had  been  pinned  up.  and  his  back  was  covered  with  a  streak 
of  mud.  When  the  despateher  had  finished,  his  companion 
reached  the  head  of  the  stairs  in  a  jump. 

"  I'll  try  for  it!"  he  said.  "There's just  one  chance.  I'll 
try  to  make  the  quarries!" 

Despite  the  fact  that  headquarters  was  now  calling 
back,  Mingle  ran  to  the  door.  He  was  just  in  time  to  see 
the  night  despateher  lifting  something  down  the  steps  out- 
side. 

"Try  for  it,  Rollie!"  he  shouted,  and  ran  out  into  the 
rain.  As  he  stood  there  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  figure 
fast  leaving  the  yards.  It  was  a  man  hent  low  over  the 
handle-bars  of  a  bicycle,  his  feet  rising  and  falling  with 
the  quickness  and  ease  of  the  trained  racer.  Mingle  caught 
a  flash  of  the  steel  spokes  as  the  night  despateher  turned 
the  corner  under  the  lamp-post,  into  the  road.  Then  he 
pulled  himself  up  the  stairs  as  if  his  feet  were  made  of 
lead,  and  telegraphed  the  message  to  headquarters  as  slow- 
ly as  if  he  had  been  a  beginner,  and  not  one  of  the  best 
operators  on  the  line. 


The  road    that   led   outside  of  Jiintown    stretched  along 
through  a  bit  of  woods,  and  then  plunged  down  the  side 


of  the  mountain  so  steeply  that,  loaded  teams  would  halt 
every  hundred  feet  or  so  to  rest  in  the  ascent. 

A  year  before  Rollins  had  < sted  down  Coon  Hill, on  a 

wager,  but  that  was  in  broad  daylight,  w  ith  his  club-mates 
Stationed  at  every  curve,  and  the  roadway  was  cleared  for 
him  as  far  as  the  sandy  stretch  before  the  railroad  crossing. 
Kvery  stone  hail  been  picked  out,  and  the  water  -  bars 
evened  up  at  the  left-hand  side.  At  one  place,  he  remem- 
bered, his  speed  had  been  reckoned,  in  a  measured  one  hun- 
dred yards,  at  forty  miles  an  hour. 

The  railroad,  to  avoid  the  grade,  followed  the  course  of 
the  Coponic,  and  circled  about  to  the  northward.  Rollins 
had  only  to  ride  four  miles  to  the  ore-cars  eleven — but 
such  a  night  for  coasting! 

The  rain  made  it  hard  for  him  to  follow  the  little  circle 
of  light  that  his  lantern  threw  before  him  as  he  scorched 
along  the  level  stretch. 

Before  he  reached  the  hill-top  it  seemed  to  him  that  he 
was  standing  still,  and  the  road  coming  up  at  him  like  the 
surface  of  a  great  wheel. 

At  last  he  felt  that  he  had  reached  down-grade.  How  he 
longed  now  for  the  brake  that  he  had  so  disdained!  He 
determined  to  keep  his  feet  going  as  long  as  he  safelv 
could,  and  he  back-pedalled  gently  to  keep  them  in  place. 

Thud!  he  struck  the  first  water-bar,  and  his  cap  came 
forward  over  his  eyes.  He  threw  it  off  with  a  backward 
toss  of  his  head. 

Another  jolt !  He  was  too  much  in  the  middle  of  the 
road.  He  must  keep  more  to  the  left.  He  was  flying  now. 
The  rain  poured  down  his  face  and  stung  him  in  a  thou- 
sand prickling  points. 

The  wind  roared  frightfully  in  his  ears,  and  he  straight- 
ened up  as  far  as  his  crooked  racing-handles  would  allow. 
He  was  at  the  first  turn.  He  swirled  about  it,  and  his  feet 
came  off  the  ratchets.  He  lifted  up  his  knees,  and  placed 
his  legs  ou  the  rests.  He  was  riding  a  runaway. 

"Hard  to  the  left!"  he  kept  saying  to  himself,  with  his 
arms  braced  straight  like  iron  rods.  The  front  wheel 
wriggled,  and  he  knew  he  had  struck  the  bit  of  sandy 
road  above  the  second  angle,  and  the  worst.  It  warned 
him  just  in  time.  He  remembered  the  huge  rock  with  the 
advertisements  on  it,  and  a  ray  from  the  lantern  caught  it 
as  he  flashed  b}1  and  then  swooped  off  to  the  right.  A 
sharp  jingle  as  a  stone  flew  up  against  the  spokes  ;  he  was 
once  more  in  the  straight  shoot  for  the  last  turn  of  all. 

With  wide-staring  eyes  he  prayed;  his  tongue  formed 
the  words  behind  his  closely  shut  teeth.  "  Bear  to  the  left 
now!"  He  knew  the  path  was  better  on  that  side. 

Again  the  front  wheel  wriggled  fiercely.  It,  was  by  no- 
thing but  luck  this  time  that  he  had  chosen  the  right,  mo- 
ment. There  was  a  hollow  thump  as  he  crossed  a  wooden 
culvert  and  bounded  for  a  moment  clear  into  the  air. 
The  greatest  danger  was  passed.  Below  him  stretched  a 
straight,  decline,  and  then  the  sandy  patch  before  he 
reached  the  crossing. 

How  could  he  stop  ?  He  could  never  catch  those  flying 
pedals.  Hul  stop  he  must  or  he  would  overshoot  his  mark 
a  half-mile  before  he  found  the  level. 

It  was  no  easy  thing  to  do  to  hold  that  struggling  front 
wheel  steady.  He  straightened  up,  and  bending  his  right 
knee,  placed  the  sole  of  his  foot,  against  the  tire  of  the 
front  wheel.  He  could  feel  it,  warming  through  the 
leather, but  he  had  partly  cheeked  the  speed.  Then  there 
was  a  ringing  sound,  a  twist,  of  both  his  arms,  and  over  he 
went  with  a  sickening  momentary  cry  of  fear. 

He  rolled  up  on  his  hands  and  knees.  To  save  his  life 
he  could  not  help  that  choking,  whimpering  sound.  His 
month  was  full  of  sand,  anil  he  felt  as  though  his  breast 
had  been  crushed  in  against  his  lungs.  A  sharp  pain  ran 
through  his  left  leg;  but  at  last  he  caught  his  breath. 

There  was  the  track  within  thirty  feet  of  when'  he  had 
fallen.  He  could  only  tell  this  by  seeing  the  ghostlike 
danger-post,  that  stretched  above  the  roadway  like  a  white 
warning  gallows.  There,  a  few  rods  down  the  track,  was 
the  switch  that  turned  through  the  sharp  cut  to  the 
quarries. 

Rollins  ga  \  e  a  cry.  "  The'  key  !"  The  switch  was  locked. 
Would  he  have  to  stand  there  and  see  the  ore-cars  rush  by 


1055 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


'I    SAY,    YOU    PEOPLE,  THEUG'S    A    DEAD    MAN    OK    SOMETHING    HERE    IN   THE    ROAD. 


hands  at  the  guard  chain  to 
But  what  was  that  standing 


him?     He  twisted  with  both 
the  lock.    It  wouldn't,  move, 
close  on  the  siding  ? 

A  haud-car  is  a  good  lift  for  two  men  at  any  time,  but  it 
seemed  as  if  made  of  pine  wood  instead  of  heavy  iron 
wheels  and  bars.  He  rolled  it  to  the  track,  and  up-ended 
it  as  easily  as  a  laborer  would  throw  over  a  wheel-barrow. 

Then  lie  heard  a  roaring  sound  above  him  along  the 
grade.  The  sharp  staccato  tooting  of  the  drilling  engine 
he  heard  also.  Then  far  below  him,  four  miles  away,  the 
long  confident  whistle  of  No.  44  at  a  grade  crossing.  The 
rails  were  slippery,  and  he  knew  that  the  train  was  coining 
slowly  up  the  grade.  As  the  hand-car  toppled  across  the 
track  be  threw  upon  the  heap  two  heavy  ties,  and  scrambled 
up  the  opposite  bank.  Now  the  roaring  was  upon  him  ! 
Crash  !  A  snap  and  a  whirl,  and  the  wheels  of  the  foremost 
ore-car  caught  the  obstruction.  The  load  piled  forward, 
and  the  flats  behind  reared  up  and  threw  their  heavy 
freight  in  all  directions.  He  had  wrecked  her  just  iu 
time. 

He  hurried  back  to  the  crossing.  A  tangle  of  wire  and 
frame-work,  the  bicycle  lay  at  the  road-side.  He  must 
have  missed  striking  that  huge  rock  by  nothing  short  of  a 
miracle.  The  lamp,  twisted  aud  broken,  was  attached  to 
the  front  fork.  He  could  smell  the  oil,  and  he  sopped  it 
•with  his  handkerchief.  His  hands  were  sticky,  and  the 
match  refused  to  light.  At  last  he  struck  a  handful  of 
them;  they  flashed  feebly,  then  sputtered  and  went  out. 
In  the  brief  space  Rollins  had  seen  that  his  hands  were 
dripping  red. 

A  great  white  eye  aud  the  tinkling  of  the  rails  told  that 
the  little  switch  engine  would  strike  the  obstruction  first. 

It  was  alongside  now !  The  young  mau  saw  that  the 
wheels  were  reversing  furiously.  Then  he  heard  a  second 
crash  and  a  screeching,  long  continued,  that  went  through 
aud  through  his  dizzy  brain. 

"  Safe  !  safe !"  he  said,  aud  fell  limp  iu  the  sand. 

"Are  you  Imrted,  Bill,  lad?"  said  the  engineer  of  the 
switch  engine,  rubbing  his  bruised  sides  aud  letting  up  for 
a  miuute  his  pull  on  the  whistle  rope.  "Them  ore-cars 
jumped  the  track." 

"No;  all  O  K,"  came  the  answer  from  the  opposite  side  of 
the  cab.  "Jest  bumped  a  bit.  Listen!  There's  old  .lack 
whistling  for  brakes." 

The  shrieking  of  the  switch  engine  was  warning  No.  44 


in  time.  They  could  make- 
out  her  head-light  through 
the  leaves  of  the  trees  just 
at  the  tangent  of  the  curve 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  below. 
Some  figures  were  running 
up  the  track,  for  they 
could  see  a  lantern  bob- 
bing up  and  down,  and 
soon  the  voices  were  quite 
close. 

"What  has  happened 
here  '<"  inquired  a  man  with 
brass  buttons,  as  he  caught 
a  glimpse  of  the  engineer 
swinging  himself  painfully 
off  the  step  to  the  grouud 
behind  the  wreckage. 

"  The  Lord's  finger,  I 
reckon,"  said  the  engineer. 
"I  swear  I  saw  a  light!" 
aud  in  a  few  words  he  told 
the  story. 

A  group  of  passengers 
had  surrounded  the  heap  of 
boards,  ore,  iron  wheels, 
and  axles.  The  head-light 
of  the  switch  engine  had 
gone  out  in  the  jar,  and 
there  was  not  a  face  shown 
in  the  dim  rays  from  the 
lantern  that  did  not  pale. 

A  drummer  in  a  silk  travelling-cap  struck  a  match  to 
light  a  paper  cigarette,  but  his  hand  trembled  so  that  he 
gave  up,  and  sat  down  on  the  ties,  and  mechanically  brushed 
(iff  his  shoes  with  his  pocket-handkerchief  as  if  it  were 
dusty  and  broad  daylight. 

Another  whistle  sounded  up  vhe  grade. 
"  There's  no  train   due,"  said  the   cttrly-headed  young 
brakemau   who  had  come  up  with  another  lantern  on  his 
arm.     A  large  crowd  of  the  passengers  of  No.  44  accompa- 
nied him. 

"J  presume  likely  that's  the  wrecking-train,"  said  the 
engineer,  "  come  down  to  pick  you  fellows  up." 

"Get  up  the  track  and  flag  her,  Billy!  Jump  quick!" 
ordered  the  conductor. 

The  brakeiuan  started  on  a  run.  As  he  passed  the  grade 
crossing  he  shouted  back, 

"  I  say,  yon  people,  there's  a  dead  man  or  something  here 
iu  the  road, "and,  without  a  pause,  he  hurried  on. 

Rollins  opened  his  eyes  and  felt  the  familiar  motion  of 
a  moving  train,  but  for  an  instaut  he  could  not  call  back 
his  wits  to  think.  He  was  lying  on  a  mattress  on  the  floorr 
and  his  head  and  shoulders  were  propped  up  comfortably. 
There  was  a  crowd  standing  about  him. 

"  You're  all  right,  my  lad,"  said  a  voice.  "  There  are  four 
of  us  here  to  look  out  for  you."  The  doctor  arose  from  his 
knees  and  laughed. 

Rollins  faintly  smiled.  "Oh,  I'm  kind  of  comfortable,"' 
he  said. 

"  The  company  ought  to  give  him  a  gold  bicycle  set  with 
diamonds,"  said  the  conductor. 

"I'd  rather  have  a  trip  to  Europe,"  said  Rollins. 

A  quiet-looking  man  standing  in  a  corner  of  the  car 
heard  this  remark  and  made  a  note  of  it. 

The  whistle  hallooed  exultantly  at  the  entrance  of  the 
Jinitown  yards. 

The  sound  reached  the  ears  of  Mr.  Mingle  as  lie  sat  with 
his  forehead  resting  on  the  edge  of  his  desk.  The  tbree 
sharp  toots  that  were  being  given  so  often  in  succession 
could  be  nothing  else  than  cheers. 

"Headquarters  there!  O  K.  My  side,  partner  saved 
the  train.  Hurrah!  Forty-four  is  safe!" 

He  twitched  the  dots  and  dashes  out  with  his  nervous 
fingers.  Then  he  drew  his  sleeve  across  his  eyes  aud  dash- 
ed down  the  steps  to  meet  the  train. 

"Rollie's  a  piece  of  work, "he  said  to  himself. 


1056 


OAKLEIGH. 


BY  ELLEN  DOUGLAS  DELANO. 


C  II  AFTER    XVIII. 

EDITH  recovered  slowly;  but  the  shock  had  told  upon 
her,  ami  it  was  thought  she  needed  a  change  of  air 

"  Take  her  to  a  city,"  suggested  the  doctor.  •'  She  re- 
quires diversion." 

And  very  hurriedly  and  unexpectedly  they  decided  to 
go  to  Washington  for  a  week  or  two,  stopping  in  Phila- 
delphia on  their  way  back  for  a  glimpse  of  Neal. 

The  party  consisted  of  Mrs.  Franklin,  Edith,  and  Cyn- 
thia, with  the  addition  at  the  last  moment  of  Aunt  Betsey. 
Each  of  the  three  Franklins  felt  a  slight  pang  of  disap- 
pointment when  they  heard  that  Miss  Trinkett  intended 
to  join  them;  it  would  have  been  just  a  little  nicer  to  go 
alone.  But  the  old  lady  never  suspected  this,  and  she  met 
them  in  Boston  on  the  morning  of  the  1st  of  June,  full  of 
excitement  and  pleasure  at  the  thought  of  seeing  "the 
inner  workings  of  this  wonderful  government  of  ours." 

Hester's  one  thought  was  that  she  should  soou  see  her 
brother  again.      During  the   last  few  weeks  a  letter  had 
come  from  the  head  master  at  St.  Asaph's,  deeply  regretting 
the  unjust  judgment  that  had  been  passed  upon  Neal  in 
suspending  him  from  school.     It  had  since  been  proved  that 
he  was  innocent,  and  the  faculty  would  be  only  too  glad  In 
wdmine  him  back.     Mrs.  Franklin  felt  that  she  could  not 
do     too     mnch     to 
atone    to   Neal    for 
having      suspected 
him,  and  she  long- 
ed to  tell  him  so. 

"And  if  I  once 
see  him  I  can  per- 
suade him  to  couie 
back.  I  know  I 
can  !"  she  said,  joy- 
fully, to  Cynthia. 

The  visit  was  an 
unqualified  suc- 
cess. The  Franklin 
party  did  a  vast 
amount  of  sight  - 
seeing,  Miss  Triuk- 
ett  being  the  most 
indefatigable  of 
all.  Indeed,  Cyn- 
thia was  the  only 
one  who  was  able 
physically  to  keep 
up  with  her  ener- 
getic little  grand- 
aunt,  and  even  she 
was  sometimes 

forced   to  plead  fa- 
tigue. 

Miss  Betsey  left 
nothing  undone. 
She  journeyed  to 
the  top  of  the  Mon- 
ument, she  made 
a  solemn  pilgrim- 
age to  Alexandria. 
She  was  never  too 
tired  to  go  to  the 
Capitol,  and  her  lit- 
tle black-robed  fig- 
ure and  large  black 
bonnet  soon  be- 
came familiar  ob- 
jects iu  the  visitors' 
gallery,  while  she 
listened  carefully 
to  all  the  speeches, 
thrilling  or  dull  as 
they  chanced  to  be. 
When  the  latter 


was  the  case,  as  frequently  happened,  Miss  Trinkett  waxed 
warm  with  indignation  at  the  lack  of  attention  paid  to 
the  prosy  old  member  by  his  inconsiderate  colleagues. 

"Look!"  she  would  whisper  to  Cynthia;  "they  are  act- 
ually reading  and  writing  and  talking  quite  loud  to  each 
other  while  that  poor  old  gentleman  is  speaking ;  and  some 
have  gone  out.  How  shocking!" 

And  she  would  lean  forward  again  in  an  attitude  of 
renewed  attention,  and  listen  to  the  reasous  for  or  against 
some  very  unimportant  project. 

At  Mount  Veruon  Miss  Trinkett's  joy  and  patriotism 
knew  mi  hounds.  She  bought  little  hatchets  by  the  score, 
and  herself  drew  up  the  bucket  from  the  General's  own 
well.  Sin-  was  even  guilty  of  breaking  off  a  twig  in  Mrs. 
Washington's  garden,  notwithstanding  the  signs  which 
informed  her  that  she  was  doing  it  under  penally  of  the  law. 

"1  just  couldn't  help  it,"  she  said  afterwards  to  her 
nieces,  in  apologetic  tones.  "To  think  of  that  labyrinth 
and  that  box-border  being  Martha  Washington's  own,  and 
me  with  the  same  thing  in  my  garden  at  home!  It  made 
me  fairly  thrill  to  think  of  Martha  and  me  having  the 
same  tastes  in  common.  I  knew  she'd  have  let  me  take  it 
if  she'd  been  here,  for  I  always  heard  she  was  real  kind- 
hearted,  if  she  iron  dignified,  so  I  just  did  it." 


"CYNTHIA    FRANKLIN,"  SHE    EXCLAIMED,  "  LOOK    THERE!" 
1057 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


But  the  most  exciting  day  of  all  was  when  they  visited 
the  Dead-letter  Office.  Miss  Triukett,  interested  as  she 
hud  always  been  in  the  mail  service,  was  much  impressed. 
She  sat  upstairs  for  hours,  and  gazed  over  the  railing  at 
the  rows  of  men  who  were  opening  and  examining  thou- 
sands of  missent  letters.  She  could  only  he  torn  away  by 
the  entreaties  of  Cynthia,  who  begged  her  to  come  see  the 
collection  of  curiosities  which  had  found  their  way  to  this 
vast  receptacle. 

At  the  first  glass  case  Miss  Betsey  stood  appalled. 

••  Cynthia  Franklin,"  she.  exclaimed.  "  look  there  !" 

Cynthia  looked.  There  was  every  conceivable  thing  in 
the  place,  from  a  beehive  to  a  baby's  rattle'. 

"  Do  you  see  f  " 

"What, Aunt  Betsey?" 

"  There  !     Look,  my  own  rag  doll !" 

"Aunt  Betsey,  it  can't  be!" 

"It  is.  Cyntliy.  Don't  I  know  the  work  of  my  own 
hands,  I  should  like  to  ask  ?  Well,  well,  J  want  to  know  ! 
I  want — to — know!  Find  me,  a  chair,  Cynthy.  I  feel  that 
taken  aback  I  don't  know  but  what  I'm  going  to  faint, 
though  I  never  did  sneh  a  thing.  But  do  tell!  do  tell! 
Oh,  this  government  of  ours!  It  is  an  age  to  live,  in,  Cyn- 
thy." 

Cynthia  brought  her  the  chair,  and  the  old  lady  seated 
herself  in  front  of  the  case. 

"I  do  declare  if  there  ain't  the  very  eyes  I  sewed  in  with 
my  own  hands — black  beads  they  are,  Cyntliy — and  the 
hair  I  embroidered  with  fine  black  yarn  !  And  the  petti- 
coats, Cynthy !  The  flannel  oue's  feather-stitched.  I  could 
tell  you  what  that  doll  has  on  to  her  very  stockings.  To 
think  that  something  I  made  so  innocently,  away  off  in 
Wayborongli,  for  our  little  Janet,  now  belongs  to  the 
United  States  government!  Well,  well,  it's  a  great  honor; 
almost  too  good  to  be  true.  But  the  little  satchel,  Cynthy 
— the  satchel  that  hung  at  her  side  with  the  gold  in  it, 
where's  that  ?" 

That  indeed  was  missing. 

"  Well,  well,  we  won't  say  anything.  I'm  sure  govern- 
ment deserves  it  for  all  the  trouble  it  takes,  opening  all 
those  letters  aud  bundles." 

But  her  family  thought,  differently,  aud  wheels  within 
wheels  were  set  in  motion  by  which  the  fifty  dollars  in 
gold  were  recovered — the  famous  fifty  dollars,  the  loss  of 
which  had  so  affected  the  fortunes  of  Neal  Gordon. 

It  seemed  that  in  her  agitation,  after  the  death  of  Silas 
Green,  Miss  Betsey,  though  she  stamped  it  generously,  had 
put  uo  address  at  all  on  the  package,  aud  having  sent  it  off 
by  the  half-blind  Mr.  Peters,  the  deficiency  had  not  been 
discovered. 

He  had  taken  it  to  Tottenham  post-office,  where  both 
he  and  Miss  Triukett  were  unknown,  aud  hurried  away, 
leaving  the  valuable  package  to  the  mercies  of  govern- 
ment. 

"And  to  think  that  government  takes  care  of  things  aud 
gives  them  back  to  yon  when  you  are  as  careless  as  all 
that !"  said  Miss  Betsey.  The  doll  she  would  not  re- 
ceive. 

"No, no, "she  said;  "let  it  stay  where  it  is.  I'll  make 
another  for  Janet  some  day.  It's  an  honor  I  never  ex- 
pected, to  have  one  of  my  rag  dolls  set  up  in  a  glass  case-  in 
a  public  building  in  the  city  of  Washington  for  thousands 
and  thousands  of  the  American  people  to  gaze  at!  Indeed, 
I  want  to  know  !" 

The  two  weeks  in  Washington  finally  came  to  an  end. 
aud  the  Franklins  bade  farewell  to  the  beautiful  city  with 
its  parks  and  circles,  its  magnificent  avenues,  its  public 
buildings,  and  towering  Monument. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Miss  Betsey,  as  she  took  her  last  look, 
"I haven't  lived  all  these  years  for  nothing!  I've  been  to 
the  capital  of  my  country,  and  I've  visited  the  tomli  of 
Washington.  And,  Cyuthy,  now  it's  all  over  aud  we're  safe- 
ly out  of  the  way,  I'm  real  glad  I  took  that  twig  from  the 
garden.  I  had  a  kind  of  an  uneasy  feeling  about  it  all  the 
time  I  was  in  town,  but  now  I  feel  better." 

When  they  arrived  at  Philadelphia.  Mr.  Carpenter  was 
waiting  for  them  at  the  station.  Neal,  he  explained,  was 
at  the  lumber-yard;  he  could  not  get  off  at  that  hour. 


They  intended  going  to  a  hotel,  but  William  Carpenter, 
with  Quaker  hospitality,  insisted  that  they  should  stay  un- 
der his  roof  while  they  were  in  the  city. 

"Kachel  expects- thee,"  he  said  to  his  cousin  when  she 
remonstrated  ;  "  she  has  made  the  necessary  preparations." 

"  But  there  are  so  many  of  us,"  said  Mrs.  Franklin. 

"There  is  room  for  all, and  more,"  he  replied,  calmly. 

Miss  Triukett  was  much  pleased  with  all  she  saw, though 
somewhat  surprised  when  she  heard  herself  called  by  her 
given  name  on  so  short  an  acquaintance." 

'•  However,  it  gives  you  an  at-home  feeling  right  away," 
she  confided  to  her  nieces.  "It  seems  as  if  I  were  back 
in  Wayborough  with  the  people  that  have  known  mo  ever 
since  I  was  born,  I  wouldn't  like  to  say  how  many  years 
ago,  though  not  so  very  many,  either." 

It  was  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  when  Neal  came  in. 
Hester  heard  his  familiar  step  coming  down  the  long 
narrow  hall  to  her  room,  where  she  was  resting.  Tin-re 
was  a  knock  at  the  door,  ami  she  called  to  him  to  come  in. 
In  another  instant  his  arms  were  around  her. 

"Neal,  Neal,"  she'  cried,  "  is  it  really  you  at  last?  Oh, 
how  I  have  longed  to  see  you  !  Let  me  look  at  you." 

She  held  herself  away  from  him,  and  scrutinized  the  face 
which  was  far  above  hers. 

"You've  grown.  You  are  taller  than  ever.  I  only 
come  up  to  your  shoulder,  Neal.  \Vbat  a  big  man  you 
are  going  to  be!  Aud  you  have  altered — your  face  looks 
different.  What  is  it?" 

"Can't  say,"  he  laughed.  ''Don't  stare  a  fellow  out  of 
countenance,  Hessie ;  it's  embarrassing.  Did  you  have  a 
good  time  in  Washington  ?" 

It  was  evident  that  he  did  not  wish  to  refer  to  past 
events,  but  Hester  insisted  upon  speaking.  She  felt  that 
something  must  be  said  sooner  or  later,  and  there  was  no 
time  like  the  present.  It  would  be  well  to  get  it  over. 

"Xeal,"  she  said,  tenderly,  taking  his  baud  as  they  sat 
together  ou  the  sofa,  "  I  never  really  thought  you  took  the 
money.  I  only  did  for  an  instant  after  yon  ran  away.  Of 
course  that  seemed  strange.  But,  Neal,  you  will  forgive 
us  for  thinking  so  at  all.  You  will  come  back,  won't  you, 
dear?  John  wants  you  to  as  well  as  I,  and  you  will  go  to 
college." 

Neal  rose  and  walked  to  the  window.  He  stood  there 
for  a  moment,  with  his  bands  iu  his  pockets.  Then  be 
turned,  and,  coming  back,  stood  iu  front  of  her. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  it  is.  Hessie,  we've  both  got  some- 
thing to  forgive.  I  was  beastly  extravagant  at  St.  Asaph's, 
aud  not  at  all  fair  aud  square  when  I  asked  you  for  the 
money  that.  time.  Then,  being  suspended  was  all  against 
me,  and  of  course  John  bad  a  right  to  get  mad.  It's  aw- 
fully hard  to  swallow  the  fact  that  be  wouldn't  believe 
me,  and  he  thought  I  would  steal;  however,  he  bad  some 
excuse  for  it.  My  old  pride  was  at  the  bottom  of  it  all. 
You  see,  I've  had  time  to  think  it  over  since  I've  been 
here;  two  months  is  a  good  long  time.  I've  been  alone 
a  lot,  aud  when  you're  not  measuring  boards  at  a  lumber- 
yard you  have  plenty  of  time  for  thinking  over  your  sins. 
And  I  suppose  I  was  pretty  well  in  the  wrong,  too.  I 
ought  not  to  have  run  away;  I  know  that." 

Now  that  Xeal  had  reached  this  conclusion  he  was  cour- 
ageous enough  to  acknowledge  it. 

"And  you  will  come  home  now,  and  go  to  college." 

"X'o.  I  don't  think  I  will.  Cousin  William  seems  to 
think  I  do  pretty  well  in  the  business,  and  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  he'd  feel  rather  badly  to  have  me  go.  He  was 
very  good  to  take  me  in.  Then  I  made  up  my  mind  I'd 
stick  at  the  old  thing  and  show  Cyii — show  some  people 
I'm  no  coward.  Then  I'm  not  very  much  gone  on  books, 
Hessie,  and  it  I  went  to  college  I'd  want  to  give  a  good 
deal  of  time  to  sports  and  all  that,  aud  I'd  need  a  lot  of 
money.  Somehow  I  don't  seem  to  be  able  to  see  other 
fellows  spending  a  pile  without  doing  likewise.  I  haven't 
got  it,  and  I  am  not  going  to  be  dependent  ou  yon,  Hessie 
dear,  much  as  I  know  you  would  like  to  give  me  every  cent 
you  own.  But,  on  the  whole,  I  think  I  like  better  to  make 
my  own  living.  I  rather  like  the  feeling  of  it." 

Hester  1'clr  that  Neal  was  .showing  that  he  was  made  of 
good  stuff.  She  was  not  a  little  proud  of  his  independent 


1058 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


spirit.  She  \vas  greatly  disappointed  that  hi-  was  nut 
going  through  college;  but,  after  all,  she  reflected,  there 
was  great  wisdom  in  what  he  said.  She  determined  to  say 
no  more  until  she  had  consulted  with  her  husband,  but  she 
knew  that  he  would  agree  with  Neal. 

"And  now  where  are  the  girls?''  demanded  Neal,  with  a 
view  to  changing  the  subject.-  "  I  want  to  see  theru." 

His  sister  called  them  in  from  the  next  room,  and  they 
had  a  merry  meeting. 

"How  funny  it  is,"  thought  Cynthia.  ''The  last  time  I 
saw  Neal  we  were  like  two  drenched  water-rats  on  the 
river  at  home.  Whoever  thought  we  should  meet  away 
oft'  here  in  a  strange  house  and  a  strange  city,  where  all  is 
so  different?  I  believe  things  are  really  going  to  come 
right  after  all,  and  that  day  I  was  perfectly  certain  they 
never  would.  Here  is  Edith  well  and  strong  when  I 
thought  she  was  surely  going  to  die,  and  mamma  has 
seen  Neal  and  seems  as  happy  as  a  lark,  and  Neal  himself 
looks  fine.  Somehow  he  seems  more  like  a  man.  I'm 
proud  of  him.'1 

All  of  which  train  of  thought  took  place  while  Cj'nthia 
was  indulging  in  an  unwonted  fit  of  silence. 

Neal  soon  suggested  that  they  should  take  a  walk,  and 
the  girls  acceding  to  it,  the  three  set  forth.  Neal  feeling 
extremely  proud  of  the  two  pretty  maidens  with  whom  1. e 
was  walking. 

"Philadelphia  has  an  awfully  forlorn  look  in  summer," 
he  said,  with  the  air  of  having  been  born  and  brought  up 
a  Philadelphia]].  "You  see,  everybody  goes  out  of  town, 
and  the  houses  are  all  boarded  up.  You're  here  at  just  the 
wrong  time." 

'•  \Vc  are  certainly  here  at  a  very  hot  time,"  remarked 
Edith, as  she  raised  her  parasol. 

"They  call  it  very  cool  for  this  time  of  year. "said  Neal. 
'•  You  forget  you  are  farther  south  than  old  Massachusetts. 
It  is  a  dandy  place,  I  think,  though  I  wouldn't  mind  know- 
ing a  few  people  that  are  not  Friends." 

"How  can  you  know  people  unless  they  are  friends?" 
asked  Cynthia,  gayly. 

"Cyuth,  what  a  pun!"  said  Neal,  with  an  attempt  at  a 
frown.  ''I  say,  though,  it's  awfully  jolly  to  have  you  two 
girls  here,  even  if  Cynthia  does  keep  at  her  old  tricks 
and  make  very  poor  puns.  How  long  are  you  going  to 
3taj  .'" 

"As  long  as  we're  bidden,  I  suppose,"  returned  Cynthia, 
with  one  of  her  well-known  little  skips,  as  they  set  foot  on 
Walnut  .Street  Bridge. 

It  was  six  o'clock,  but  being  June  the  sun  was  still  high 
above  the  horizon.  A  gentle  breeze  came  off  the  river, 
and  the  afternoon  light  threw  a  soft  radiance  over  the 
masts  of  the  vessels  which  lay  at  anchor  at  the  wharves, 
and  the  spires  and  chimneys  of  the  town. 

They  wandered  through  the  pretty  streets  of  West  Phila- 
delphia ;  Neal,  happy  in  having  companions  of  his  own  age 
again,  laughing  and  talking  in  his  old  way,  care-free  and 
fun-loving  once  more. 

To  Cynthia  the  past  year  seemed  a  hideous  dream,  now 
to  be  blotted  out  forever. 

She  and  Neal  had  one  conversation  alone  together.  It 
was  the  night  before  the  visitors  were  to  leave  Philadel- 
phia, and  the  two  were  in  the  old  garden  that  was  at  the 
back  of  Mr.  Carpenter's  house.  It  was  not  like  Aunt  Bet- 
sey's garden,  nor  the  more  modern  one  at  Oakleigh,  but  the 
roses  and  the  lilac  blossoms  suggested  a  bit  of  country  here 
among  city  bricks  and  mortar. 

Neal  was  very  quiet,  and  Cynthia  rallied  him  for  being 
>o.  as  she  herself  laughed  heartily  at  one  of  her  own  jokes. 

"  Well,  perhaps  I  am  rather  glum,''  said  he  ;  "  but  I  think 
you  are  horribly  heartless, Cynthia, laughing  that  way  when 
you're  going  oft' to-morrow,  and  nobody  knows  when  I  shall 
see  you  again." 

Cynthia  was  sobered  in  a  moment. 

"  Neal,  I  want  to  tell  you  something,"  she  said.  '•  Mamma 
told  me  that  you  have  decided  to  stay  here  and  work  in- 
stead of  going  to  college,  and  I  admire  you  for  doing  it. 
Of  course,  it's  a  great  pity  for  a  boy  not  to  go  to  college, 
but  then  yours  is  .1  peculiar  case,  and  I'm  proud  of  you, 
Neal.  Yes,  I  am!  You're  plucky  to  stick  it  out." 


"Wait  until  I  do  stick  it  out,"  said  Neal,  coloring  hotly 
at  the  unexpected  praise.  "But  it's  rather  nice  to  hear 
you  tell  me  I'm  something  besides  a  coward." 

"Hush!  Don't  remember  what  I  said  that  day.  Just 
forget  it  all." 

"Indeed,  I  won't!  It  is  written  down  in  my  brain, 
every  word  of  it,  in  indelible  ink.  There  was  something 
else  you  said,  Cynth.  You  said  you  had  faith  in  me.  I 
mean  to  show  yon  that  you  didn't  make  a  mistake.  It 
will  be  harder  work  than  ever  now,  though.  Having  seen 
you  all  makes  the  idea  of  toiling  and  moiling  here  pretty 
poky.  My  mind  is  made  up.  I  icill  stick  it  out!" 
[TO  BK  COMINUKR] 


IN  THE  VALLEY. 

Tun  night  has  tilled  the  valley  up 
Brimful  of  darkness,  like  a  cup; 
But  day   will  spill  the  mists  again 
Over  the  brim — ill  driving  rain. 

MAKKIOX  WILCOX. 


A    PARSLEY   BED. 

BY  EMMA   J.  GRAY 

I  WISH  /  could  make  a  little  money,"  said  confidential 
Florence  to  her  friend  Annette. 

Now  Annette  was  notably  practical,  and  though  a  dili- 
gent student,  managed  to  rind  time  for  apparently  every- 
thing else,  money-making  included.  Indeed,  had  she  not 
been  as  enterprising,  much  of  her  enjoyment  would  neces- 
sarily have  been  left  out.  Her  father  and  mother  had 
many  conferences  to  contrive  ways  and  means  to  supply 
their  children's  needs.  And  stern  necessity  made  frequent 
entertainments  and  many  dainty  gifts  quite  impossible. 
So  Florence  appealed  to  the  right  person,  and  her  friend's 
advice  would  apply  to  any  boy  or  girl  who,  like  Florence, 
would  like  to  make  a  little'  money. 

"  Eaise  parsley."  And  Annette  smilingly  nodded  her 
bright  little  head. 

"  WThy,  how  could  I  make  any  money  out  of  parsley  ?" 
was  the  doubting  query. 

"If,  Florie  dear,  you'll  do  exactly  as  I  will  tell  you,  you 
will  see.  Now  listen: 

"Next  spring  have  your  ground  turned  to  the  depth  of 
one  foot.  And  be  sure  to  have  it  well  manured,  for  parsley 
loves  a  rich  soil.  Some  people  put  soot  around  the  young 
plants,  and  think  it  is  very  helpful.  Before  planting  your 
seeds  soak  them  for  an  hour  in  warm  water.  Cover  them 
half  an  inch  with  soil,  and  watch  carefully.  The  ground 
must  never  be  allowed  to  become  parched,  for  your  parsley 
would  die  Eaise  as  much  as  you  can,  and  if  the  supply  is 
greater  than  the  demand,  dry  some.  Cut  off  close  to  the 
roots,  and  dry  in  a  shallow  tin  pan  in  a  moderate  oven.  It 
will  scorch  very  easily,  so  look  out.  When  it  is  dry,  pow- 
der it  in  your  ringers,  and  pack  in  paper  or  tin  boxes.  You 
will  find  the  dried  parsley  will  help  out  your  winter  supply 
wonderfully." 

"  But,  Annette,"  interrupted  Florence, "surely  you  cannot 
raise  parsley  in  the  house?" 

"Why  not?  Of  course  \<m  can.  During  September,  and 
later  at  intervals,  plant  seeds  in  boxes  and  pots,  and  place 
in  your  sunny  windows.  It  will  grow  beautifully  all  win- 
ter, and  you'll  find  you  can  get  good  prices  for  it.  By-the- 
way,  so  that  your  prices  may  be  honest,  inquire  in  any 
grocery  store,  and  aim  to  sell  at  the  same  figure.  Of  course 
in  summer  it  will  be  much  cheaper. 

"About  customers.  Arrange  for  them  while  your  plants 
are  growing.  Your  family  and  friends  will  do  to  start 
with,  and  soon  you  will  Mud  more  and  yet  more.  For  pars- 
ley has  such  multiplied  uses.  For  soups,  lisb.  entrees,  meat, 
and  game,  for  flavoring  and  garnishing.  You  know  peo- 
ple must  have  it.  And  remember  parsley  may  be  cut  down 
to  the  root  again  and  again,  and  up  it  will  come  bravely 
each  time.  But  frost  is  a  great  enemy.  Before  its  ap- 
proach gather  all  you  can  and  try  transplanting  the  roots. 
They  may  not  always  be  depended  upon,  but  often  they  will 
live  and  flourish  from  season  to  season." 


1059 


HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE 


THE  EAST-SIDE   BOY  AND   HIS  GAMES. 

P.Y    KEY.   JOHN   T.  WILDS,  D.D. 

BEING  a  boy  in   a  crowded  city  and  being  a  boy  in  a 
village  are  two  different  tilings,  though  boys  the  world 
over  arc  always  boys.     The  balance  of  fun   and  sport  is, 
after  all,  in  favor  of  the  city  lad,  the  offspring  of  the  tene- 
ment-house. 

After  spending  my  boyhood  in  a  delightful  mountain 
village,  and  after  being  much  of  a  boy,  although  a  man,  for 
years  in  the  crowded  tenement  section  of  the  East  Side  of 
New  York,  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  pity  is  greatly  mis- 
placed when  a  youthful  reader  of  the  ROUND  TABLE  spreads 
himself  in  summer  days  under  a  great  tree,  feels  sorry  for 
the  poor  East-sider  of  New  York,  and  says,  "It's  too  bad 
he  can't  be  here  with  me."  Right  now,  my  delightful  friend 
uuder  the  tree,  shouts  of'merriment  ring  in  my  ears  from 
boys  who  last,  night  slept  in  a  close  room,  or  possibly  on 
the  fire-escape,  whose  breakfast  was  most  meagre  because 
their  parents  are  poor  and  honest.  They  are  as  happy  as 
the  day  is  long.  They  are  happier  longer  than  the  day, 


BASEBALL. 


because  they  never  go  to  bed  until  ten  o'clock,  and  they 
only  go  then  because  the  hall  light  is  turned  out  at  that 
hour,  and  they  don't  like  to  climb  up  to  the  top  story,  or 
go  through  a  long  alleyway  in  the  dark  any  more  than  you 
enjoy  going  through  a  graveyard  in  the  night-time. 

Necessity  keeps  the  Kast-sider  active.  If  he  lolls  on  the 
street  the  police  stir  him ;  if  he  hangs  about  a.  store  the 
keeper  chases  him  away;  but  they  tolerate  him  when  he  is 
playing.  Necessity  also  make  him  inventive.  They  make 
their  games  and  have  them  in  season.  They  would  as  soon 
thiuk  of  wearing  an  ulster  in  summer-time  as  play  top  in 
July.  I  don't  know  but  that  they  have  a  code  quite  as 
reasonable  as  the  high-classed  youth  who  patterns  after 
the  dude. 

Our  happy  lad  of  the  tenement,  until  he  is  fourteen  when 
he  leaves  school  and  goes  to  work,  is  compelled  to  play  in 
crowded  streets  where  hundreds  of  children  swarm  like  bees, 
and  necessarily  within  a  narrow  space.  But  In;  has  broad 
ideas,  and  insists  upon  doing,  accommodating  the  space  in 
some  way.  whatever  others  do.  The  asphalt-  pavements  are 
of  the  greatest  blessing — far  better  than  roof-gardens,  and 
siuce  we  cannot  have  ninny  parks,  they  are  of  greater  im- 
portance to  all  concerned  than  the  little  squares  that  dot 
our  city.  At  evening-time,  when  the  street-organs  have 
not  gathered  all  the  girls  of  the  block  for  a  dance,  and  dur- 
ing the  day  on  the  sunny  side  of  the  street  one  may  find  a 


most  energetic  crowd  of  boys,  eager,  and  intensely  excited 
over  a  game.  The  streets  and  pavements  are  all  marked 
over  with  strange  diagrams,  each  one  of  which  tells  of  a 
conflict.  -"Tip  Cat"  is  always  popular,  but  played,  as  a 
rule,  in  the  morning ;  so  also  is  "  Kicking  the  Stick  01  Can." 
When  the  sun  is  hot  they  get  on  the  shady  side  and  play 
"Long  Branch"  and  "War."  Later  on  they  have  the 
"Hopping  Game"  and  "Spread  the  Woman."  Then  when 
night  comes — and  it  is  not  night,  for  the  streets  are  as  light, 
as  day  because  of  the  electric-light  or  gas — they  dart  about 
as  detectives  and  robbers  playing  "Relievio." 

It  will  be  observed  that  they  play  what  men  do.  You 
may  often  hear  an  imitation  of  the  tire-gong,  and  see  boys 
rush  out  before  an  imaginary  wagon  and  engine,  and  go 
through  the  motion  of  having  a  fire.  Children  are  rescued, 
the  dead  are  laid  out,  medals  are  awarded  for  bravery. 
When  the  Lndlow  Street  Jail  robbers  escaped,  the  boys  de- 
vised a  jail,  and  the  three  noted  robbers  were  impersona- 
ted, and  escaped.  The  jailer  was  in  dismay.  Detectives 
and  police  went  forth,  climbing  on  tops  of  bouses,  over 
fences,  eagerly  searching  for  the  men.  And  they  were 
successful,  be  it  said  to  the  honor  of  the 
Vjoys. 

Of  course  they  play  baseball.  What 
boy  does  not?  These  East-aiders  have 
not  the  green  diamond — if  they  had  they 
would  roll  over  the  grass,  pat  it  in  love, 
sit  down  and  look  at  it  a  long  time  before 
they  would  play  ball  upon  it.  I  have 
taken  children  to  the  Park,  far  up  to  the 
Bronx,  where  everything  is  delightfully 
free,  and  they  have  sat  down  and  rubbed 
the  grass,  and  petted  it  as  a  child  will  a 
tender  animal.  But  they  have  their  ball 
games  and  get  excited  over  them,  al- 
though the  diamond  is  on  stone,  and  not 
two  feet  square. 

They  are  always  at  something,  and  less 
frequently  in  mischief  than  one  would 
think.  They  are  divided  into  crowds, 
each  street  or  block  has  its  gang,  and  woe 
he  to  him  who  dares  encroach.  They  have 
chosen  leaders  whose  command  they  obey. 
There  is  a  vast  deal  of  honor  among  them, 
and  I  am  not  sure  but  that  he  is  some- 
what better  than  the  lad  that  hangs 
around  the  country  store  or  goes  swim- 
ming in  the  mill  -  pond  of  the  vil- 
lage. 

The  following  are  some  of  the  summer 
games  that  engage  his  attention  and  keep 
him  out  of  mischief : 


four   squares    within,  each 
Then  construct  your  score- 


BASKBALL. 

Construct  a  square  having 
marked  as  in  the  illustration, 
eard  after  the  usual  manner. 
Stand  ten  or  more  feet  off  and 
toss  a  penny  or  piece  of  lead, 
which  the  boys  call  the  lead 
digger,  into  the  squares.  If  it 
touches  a  line  or  falls  outside 
he  is  out.  If  it  falls  within 
one  of  the  squares  it  counts  for 
so  many  base  hits  as  the  square 
indicates.  For  example,  if  it.  is 
on  H. -K.,  it  is  a  score,  that 
being  a  home-ran.  If  on  2  B., 
that  means  t  \\  o-base  hit,  which 
puts  him  on  second  base.  The 
rest  of  the  game  is  like  base- 
ball. 


TIP   CAT. 

A  two-foot  circle  is  made,  or  more  commonly  with  the 
lad  of  these  parts  the  manhole  or  steam-escape  tap  se- 
lected. On  the  side  of  it  is  drawn  a  mark  which  is  called 
the  measuring  spot.  In  the  centre  of  the  circle  is  placed  a 


H  -H. 

3B. 

1  B. 

'2B. 

H 

3 
2 

1 

.  R.  —  Home-run. 
B.—  T!iree-Biisi>  Hit. 
B.—  Two-Base  Hit. 
B.—  One-Base  Hit. 

1000 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


stick  about  four  or  six  inches  long,  ta- 
pered to  one  end.  This  is  called  the 
cat.  The  batter  strikes  this  tapered  end 
so  that  it  will  fly  up,  and  then  bats  it  as 
in  baseball.  The  one  in  the  field  returns 
it.  If  he  throws  it  within  the  distance 
measured  by  the  bat  from  the  measur- 
ing spot  the  batter  is  out.  If  that  is 
not  done  the  batter  measures  to  the  cat, 
and  the  number  of  times  it  takes  the 
stick  to  reach  it  counts  so  many  tallies. 
The  game  is  limited  by  a  number  from 
one  hundred  and  up. 

REL1HVIO. 

Make  a  boundary -line  embracing  such 
territory  as  is  wise  or  as  your  space  al- 
lows, across  which  no  player  can  go.  If 
he  does  he  is  captured.  Then  make  a 
den  by  drawing  a  square  3x4  feet. 

Divide  the  players  into  t\vo  equal 
parts,  each  side  appointing  a  captain 
and  den  -  keeper.  The  two  sides  are 
called  detectives  and  robbers.  The  side 
being  out  are  the  robbers. 

The  robbers  then  hide  in  any  place 
•within  the  boundary.  When  hid  the 
captain  of  the  robbers  cries  "relievio!" 
meaning  "ready."  The  captain  of  the 
detectives  then  sends  out  his  men  to  search  for  the 
robbers.  When  a  robber  is  found  and  caught  he  must 
not  struggle  until  within  six  feet  of  the  deu,  when 
he  can  try  to  get  away.  The  work  of  the  detective  is  to 
get  the  robber  within  touch  of  the  keeper.  If  the  keeper 
touches  the  robber  he  yields  and  enters  the  deu.  It  is  ne- 
cessary for  the  keeper  to  stand  with  one  foot  in  the  den. 
If  both  feet  are  placed  in  the  den,  or  both  outside,  the 
prisoners  are  free.  If  at  any  time  a  robber,  not  captured, 
cau  place  his  foot  in  the  deu  and  cries  "relievio!"  he  sets 
the  prisoners  free.  If  in  his  attempt  to  free  the  prisoners 
the  keeper  simply  touches  him  he  is  captured.  Only  one 
detective  at  a  time  can  take  a  robber. 

When  all  the  robbers  are  captured,  the  sides  change. 

"  SPREAD  THE   WOMAN." 

A  lint  or  tin-can  is  placed  on  the  ground  betwreeu  a 
player's  feet,  whose  name  is  "  It."  All  the  other  players 
gather  near  him  for  the  purpose  of  kicking  the  object.  If 
a  player  kicks  the  object,  and  is  touched  by  It,  he  becomes 
It.  If  It  chases  the  one  who  touched  the  object,  the  others 
may  kick  it,  and  then  It  has  to 
return. 

The   game  has  time    limit. 
Each  one  plays  for  himself. 


WAR. 


"start"  and  finishiiij 
he  is  out  for  that  turn 


FL 

CW 

AMC 

FL 

J5 

J~S 

AC 

AC 

AC 

FL 

FL 

CW 

FL. 

J"J 

CW 

AMC 

FL. 

AM0 

JS 

J$ 

AC 

A/V1C 

CW 

FL 

ss 

X 


LONG      s  BRANCH 


LONG   BRANCH. 

Construct  a  diagram  like 
the  illustration  ;  place  a  pen- 
ny on  a  spot  about  six  inches 
from  lower  line,  and  shove 
it  with  the  finger  for  one  of 
the  numbered  spaces.  If  it 
touches  a  line  it  is  out.  If 
it  is  on  a  space,  that  space 
is  marked  by  a  line  first 
drawn  across,  as  seen  on  first 
line.  If  first  line  is  touched  four 
o  times  a  star  is  made,  as  seen  in 

second  space.     If  again  it  falls 

on  that  space  a  bullet  is  made,  as  seen  on  third  space.  If 
the  digger  is  on  "Long  Branch,"  it  gives  a  mark  to  each 
space.  The  side  that  has  the  most  bullets  on  the  stars,  as 
in  the  third  space,  wins.  The  players  alternate  in  playing. 
The  players  are  equally  divided.  Two  or  more  may  play. 

HolTI.NG    GAME. 

Make  a  diagram  like  the  illustration,  each  square  about 
six  inches  square,  and  five  for  each  player.  The  first 
player  hops  around  in  each  space,  commencing  with 


at  "  end."  If  he  touches  the  line 
If  he  goes  round  successfully,  he  is 
permitted  to  put 
his  initial  or  num- 
ber on  the  space  he 
may  choose.  When 
he  is  hopping  he 
may  rest  on  both 
feet  at  such  spaces, 
but  all  other  play- 
ers must  hop  over 
them.  The  game 
is  finished  when  all 
the  spaces  are  fill- 
ed, and  the  one 
whose  name  is 
most  numerous  is 
winner.  "F.  L." 
has  won  in  the  il- 
lustration. 


Construct  a  diagram  like  the  illustration  ;  place  a  penny 
on  a  spot  six  or  more  inches  from  the  last  line,  and  shove 
or  shoot  it  with  the  finger.  If  it  touches  a  line  the  play  is 
a  failure,  and  the  next  player  takes  his  turn,  but  if  it  stops 
on  a  space,  you  make  a  round 

mark    in  imitation   of  a  man's         /- 

head.  If  it  falls  on  the  part 
marked  "  War,"  it  entitles  you 
to  a  mark  in  each  space.  Af- 
ter the  head  are  formed  the 
body,  the  legs  (one  at  a  time), 
then  the  arms  (one  at  a  time), 
then  a  gun  is  placed  in  the 
soldiers'  hands;  each  play  in 
that  space  then  gives  a.  bul- 
let, so  marked  by  little  balls, 
until  there  are  three  ;  then  the 
next  successful  play  on  that 
space  fires  the  gun,  and.  ol 
course,  kills  the  enemy.  Thus 
the  game  continues  until  one 
side  has  all  its  soldiers  killed 
by  the  men  of  the  other. 

During  the  war  between  Ja- 
pan and  China,  those  two  countries  were  at  war  every  day 
on  the  sidewalks  of  the  city.      Often  I  have    heard  slnnits 
that   called    me  to  my  window,  when  I  would  see   the   tri- 
umphant party  rejoicing  over  their  victory. 


1 


_ 

EC.Q 


1001 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


HOW  A   BOY   CAN   COME   TO   NEW  YORK 
AND  GET  A  SITUATION. 

BY  H.  G.  PAINE. 

rPIIIS  is  !i  question  that  cannot  be  answered  specifically, 
-I.  or  to  meet  every  case.  It  cannot  certainly  be  answered 
in  a  way  to  meet  any  case.  All  that  I  am  going  to  under- 
take is  to  show  liow  some  boys  whom  I  have  known  have 
come  to  New  York  and  obtained  situations,  and  by  throw- 
ing some  light  on  business  methods  and  business  chances 
in  tlie  metropolis  to  help  some  other  boys  who  may  read 
this  to  find  answers  to  suit  their  own  individual  cases.  In 
the  first  place  I  will  assume  that  the  boy  to  whom  I  am 
speaking  is  living  in  the  country,  or  in  a  small  town,  aud 
that  he  wishes  to  go  to  New  York  for  the  purpose  of  get- 
ting a  position  in  a  mercantile  or  business  house,  and  that 
he  will  be  entirely  dependent  on  his  own  resources  as  soon 
as  he  leaves  home.  Of  course  I  do  not  mean  by  this  that 
lie  will  come  to  New  York  penniless.  He  must,  of  course, 
expect  to  have  enough  money  saved  or  spared  him  to  live 
on  until  he  gets  a  place.  But  he  will  expect  to  support 
himself  as  soou  as  he  finds  work.  On  this  account,  unless 
he  has  had  some  previous  experience,  or  has  some  special 
knowledge  that  he  can  make  useful,  he  would  better  stay 
at  home.  For  he  will  at  once  find  himself  competing 
against  the  city  boy,  who  lives  at  home,  and  who  therefore 
can  work  for  little  aud  sometimes  no  wages. 

That  same  word  "home,"  too,  is  a  great  stumbling-block 
to  the  boy  from  away.  "You  don't  live  at  home?  Well, 
I'm  afraid  we  can't  engage  any  boy  who  doesn't  live  home," 
will  become  a  too  familiar  sentence  to  the  inexperienced 
lad  looking  for  work  iu  a  strange  city.  Yet  this  is  per- 
fectly natural  aud  proper.  "Home"  implies  some  older 
person  to  be  responsible  for  the  boy  out  of  business  hours. 
It  implies  the  ties  of  church  and  of  school  and  of  social  life. 
For  this  reason  the  country  boy  who  wishes  to  come  to  New 
York  aud  get  a,  situation  would  better  first  try  to  get  a  sit- 
uation nearer  home.  If  there  is  no  chance  for  him  in  the 
"geueral  store"  close  at  hand,  perhaps  iu  some  near-by 
town  he  can  learn  the  rudiments  of  business — of  stock, 
of  book-keeping,  of  attending  to  customers — for  his  keep. 
Then  if  he  is  a  wide-awake  boy,  and  determined  to  try 
his  fortunes  in  a  big  city,  he  will  perhaps  make  friends,  iu 
so  far  as  he  can  properly,  with  the  salesmen  of  the  large 
city  connnissiou  and  jobbing  houses  who  sell  goods  to  his 
employer.  Many  of  these  salesmen  are  very  influential 
men  in  the  houses  where  they  are  employed;  some  of  them 
are  men  who  find  it  more  profitable  to  sell  goods  ou  com- 
mission than  to  accept  partnerships  iu  the  firms  for  which 
they  work.  I  have  known  of  several  boys  who  have  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  New  York  salesmen  by  their  bright 
and  attractive  manners,  aud  by  their  evident  knowledge  of 
their  business,  and  have  secured  employment  in  New  York 
through  their  inllnencc.  This,  however,  is  not  a  way  that 
it  would  be  safe  for  a  boy  to  count  on.  It  is  only  the  ex- 
ceptional boy  who  will  get  to  New  York  iu  this  way. 

Sometimes  a  boy's  employer  may  help  him  to  get  a  place 
in  New  York,  if  he  likes  the  boy,  and  has  influence  with 
some  of  the  big  wholesale  establishments,  or  the  boy  may" 
have  personal  or  family  friends  whose  inlluence  may  secure 
him  the  coveted  place.  This  is  the  age  of  the  summer 
boarder,  and  the  country  boy  may  be  so  fortunate  as  to  be 
thrown  every  summer  into  acquaintance  with  city  people 
who,  if  they  become  interested  enough,  may  help  him  in  his 
ambitious.  But,  after  all,  few  country  boys  cau  command 
enough  influence  to  get  places  in  the  city.  The  country 
boy,  then,  must  go  to  New  York  armed  with  the  best  re- 
commendations that  he  cau  obtain  from  his  former  employ- 
ers, and  with  as  much  experience  MS  possible.  He  uiust 
also  have  personal  letters  from  his  father  or  other  guardian, 
aud  from  the  pastor  of  the  church  which  he  attends,  and 
perhaps  one  from  his  last  school  teacher  as  to  his  mental 
progress  and  attainments.  Not  every  business  man  would 
ask  to  see  all  of  these,  but  it  is  best  to  be  fully  prepared. 

If  he  have  some  friend  to  whose  house  he  can  go.  he  will 
be  more  fortunate  than  most  boys  who  come  to  New  York, 
but  he  should  at  least  have  some  kuowu  objective  point  to 
which  to  go  on  his  arrival.  If  there  is  uo  friend  to  whose 


house  he  can  go,  at  least  temporarily,  until  he  can  find  a 
suitable  boarding-house,  he  should  endeavor  to  secure 
through  trustworthy  friends  the  address  of  some  such  house, 
and,  previous  to  leaving  home,  he  should  make  arrange- 
ments for  staying  at  least  a  week  or  two  there.  If  none  of 
these  things  be  possible  for  him,  he  may  have  to  depend  on 
the  advice  of  the  clergymau  to  whom  his  own  pastor  will 
have  given  him  a  letter.  Perhaps  there  is  no  better  way 
of  establishing  a  headquarters  for  himself,  a  place  aud  peo- 
ple to  tie  up  to,  than  by  identifying  himself  at  the  start 
with  the  Y.M.C.A.  A  letter  enclosing  a  stamp  for  a  reply 
to  the  Secretary  of  the  New  York  Branch,  Twenty-third 
Street  aud  Fourth  Avenue,  will  soon  put  him  in  possession 
of  a  great  deal  of  useful  information.  Five  dollars  will 
make  him  a  member  for  one  year,  and  give  him  many  ad- 
vantages, among  others,  what  will  be  immediately  avail- 
able, a  directory  of  cheap  but  respectable  boarding-houses, 
aud  an  employment  bureau.  Unless  a  boy  has  exceptional 
facilities  he  will  easily  save  the  cost  of  joining  iu  the  first 
few  weeks  after  coming  to  the  city  in  the  advice  and  oppor- 
tunities afforded  him. 

The  first  thing  that  the  country  boy  will  have  to  cou- 
sider  is  where  and  how  to  live.  As  a  matter  of  fact  it  is  a 
question  which  rapidly  resolves  itself  into  a  choice  of  hall 
bedrooms  in  boarding-houses.  For  in  no  other  way  can  he 
live  so  well  within  the  income  that  he  is  likely  to  earn. 
The  best  way  is  to  spend  as  little  as  is  consistent  with  de- 
cency aud  getting  enough  to  eat,  at  least  until  employment 
is  secured,  aud  then  the  style  of  living  can  be  improved  if 
the  wages  warrant  it.  They  probably  will  not  warrant  it 
xintil  after  a  year  or  two.  Good  board  aud  clean  beds 
cau  be  secured  in  New  York  for  as  low  as  live  dollars  a 
week,  aud  an  occasional  landlady  will  be  met  who  will  put 
up  a  plain  bread  and  butter  lunch  to  be  takcu  to  business 
without  extra  charge.  This  is  the  kind  of  landlady  for 
whom  the  country  boy  must  look.  Washing  aud  car  fares 
will  amount  to  a  dollar  or  a  dollar  and  a  half  more, depend- 
ing on  the  amount  of  clean  clothes  required,  and  the  dis- 
tance of  his  boarding-house  from  his  place  of  business  when 
he  gets  oue. 

The  young  adveuturer  having  now  found  a  place  to  eat 
and  sleep  iu,  aud  where  he  may  leave  his  satchel,  can  start  out 
with  the  knowledge  that  he  must  find  a  place  where  he  can 
earn  at  least  six  or  seven  dollars  a  week  to  begiu  ou.  And 
theu  he  will  have  nothing  over  for  clothes,  repairs,  emer- 
gencies, and  last  of  all  for  spending  money.  Eight  dollars 
a  week  is  about  the  smallest  sum  on  which  a  self-respect- 
ing boy,  well  brought  up,  aud  accustomed  to  decent  living, 
can  keep  himself  going.  For  the  first  year,  if  he  is  well 
stocked  with  clothes,  he  could  perhaps,  with  a  little  assist- 
ance from  home,  manage  to  scrape  along  ou  seven  or  even 
six,  but  such  an  experience  would  be  pleasauter  to  look 
back  on  than  to  pass  through. 

Boys  beginning  at  the  beginning  in  large  commercial 
houses  generally  get  about  three  or  four  dollars  a  week  if 
they  are  in  the  stock,  and  from  five  to  seven  dollars  if  they 
are  in  the  office.  But  a  boy  who  goes  into  the  stock  and 
learns  it,  aud  how  to  sell  it  to  customers,  has  acquired  a 
knowledge  of  a  business,  while  a  boy  who  goes  into  the 
office  learns  how  to  become  a  book-keeper  only.  For  this 
reason  a  knowledge  of  some  sort  of  stock  is  very  valuable 
to  the  boy  from  the  country.  If  he  can  go  into  a  business 
house  and  make  himself  immediately  useful,  instead  of 
merely  helping  around  while  he  is  learning  about  the  goods 
that  the  house  deals  iu,  he  may  be  able  to  earn  enough  at 
the  start  to  support  himself. 

It  is  the  office,  however,  which  is  very  apt  to  capture  the 
country  boy,  because  it  offers  wages  on  which  a  boy  can  at 
least  sustain  life.  Almost  any  boy  who  has  worked  iu  a 
country  store  has  picked  up  some  knowledge  of  book-keep- 
ing, aud  book-keeping  is  taught  theoretically  in  many  high- 
schools,  as  well  as  in  the  countless  business  "colleges"  of 
the  country.  It  is  not  difficult,  therefore,  for  a  boy  to  ob- 
tain sufficient  knowledge  of  its  rudiments  to  be  able  to 
take  the  first  position  above  that  of  office-boy.  To  fill 
such  a  place,  however,  he  must  be  bright,  neat,  prompt,  at- 
tentive, write  a  good  hand,  and  be  quick  at  figures.  Though 
a  boy  may  fill  the  bill  in  all  these  particulars,  and  not  be 


HH;J 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


nblr  to  find  work  at  once,  he  will  succeed  in  the  end,  keep 
his  place  when  he  gets  it,  and  win  promotion.  He  will 
look  through  the  advertisements  for  help  wanted  in  the 
daily  papers,  and  answer  all  such  as  seem  to  come  from 
good  houses. 

He  must,  however,  beware  of  a  too  common  kind  of 
swindler — the  smooth-tongued  man  who  offers  to  get  a  boy 
a  place  for  a  money  consideration.  He  usually  works  in 
with  a  partner  who  runs  a  mythical  business,  and  engages 
the  victim  at  an  unexpectedly  large  salary.  The  happy 
boy  pays  over  all  his  savings  to  the  agent,  and  suddenly 
finds  himself  discharged  on  some  trumped-up  charge,  or 
comes  down-town  nest  day  to  find  the  office  locked  and 
employer  and  "business"  flown.  Sometimes  this  game  is 
worked  by  the  "employer"  alone,  who  requires  a  deposit, 
usually  accurately  gauged  to  the  amouu.t  the  victim  has  or 
can  raise,  as  a  guarantee  of  faithfulness  in  a  position  of 
trust.  The  trust  turns  out  to  be  entirely  on  the  part  of 
the  employe, and  he  soon  finds  himself  withoutjob  or  money. 

Many  business  houses,  however,  never  advertise  for  help 
— most  of  them  have  a  list  of  applications  of  portentous 
length,  from  which  they  can  choose  people  who  come  re- 
commended by  friends  or  employe's.  It  is  well  to  make  as 
many  friends  as  you  can,  and  to  ask  them  to  let  yon  know 
of  any  vacancies  likely  to  occur.  It  is  permissible  to  go  to 
a  business  house  and  to  apply  for  a  place.  This  sort  of  work 
is  very  discouraging,  yet  I  have  known  of  many  places  ob- 
tained in  just  that  way. 

I  knew  a  boy,  an  Englishman,  a  stranger  in  the  country, 
•who  in  less  than  a  day's  seeking  got  a  place  as  entry-clerk 
at  five  dollars  a  week  in  a  large  notions  house.  He  lived 
on  it,  I  don't  know  how,  and  I  fancy  he  would  have  diffi- 
culty in  explaining,  for  six  months,  and  then  applied  for 
an  increase.  The  firm,  which  was  noted  for  its  close  meth- 
ods, refused  ;  and  the  English  lad,  who  was  nearly  desper- 
ate, simply  resigned  and  walked  into  the  place  next  door 
anil  applied  for  work.  There  was  nothing  for  him  there, 
nor  next  door,  but  before  he  had  gone  two  blocks  he  found 
employment  at  seven  dollars  a  week.  The  firm  was  doing 
a  large  business,  which  necessitated  his  staying  until  seven 
or  eight  o'clock  two  or  three  evenings  a  week.  On  such 
occasions  he  received  fifty  cents  supper  money.  This  boy 
shared  a  furnished  room  in  Brooklyn  with  a  friend,  and 
took  his  meals  at  cheap  restaurants.  His  extra  fifty  cents 
was,  therefore,  clear  gain.  The  boys  who  boarded  did  not 
fare  so  well.  One  of  them,  however,  was  able  to  find  a 
boarding-house  near  enough  for  him  to  go  lo  it  for  all  his 
meals,  and  so  secured  the  same  benefit,  and,  in  addition,  all 
the  advantages  that  come  with  having  a  settled  home  and 
regular  habits.  This  boy,  too,  had  secured  a  place  with  no 
more  influence  than  that  of  the  roommate  his  slender 
finances  compelled  him  to  take  when  he  came  to  the  city 
looking  for  work.  Both  of  these  boys  were  unusually 
bright.  Though  they  had  to  work  hard,  they  found  time 
to  study  at  night.  The  English  boy  studied  mechanical 
drawing,  and  is  now  a  successful  designer  in  an  architect- 
ural iron-works.  The  other  boy  studied  medicine,  and  is 
now  a  resident  physician  in  a  large  hospital.  A  third  boy 
in  the  same  office  is  now  an  editor.  A  fourth  is  a  success- 
ful life-insurance  canvasser,  and  has  lately  insured  the 
lives  of  the  other  three.  All  four  of  these  boys  would 
rather  have  been  in  the  stock,  but  they  couldn't  afford  to 
live  on  the  low  wages  they  would  have  had  to  take.  They 
were  too  ambitious  to  remain  clerks,  and  so  fitted  them- 
selves for  other  employments.  A  fifth  boy  had  not  suffi- 
cient application  or  ambition  to  follow  their  example,  and 
a  short  time  ago  he  was  still  a  book-keeper,  and  was  mak- 
ing not  over  twenty  dollars  a  week — not  a  rapid  advance 
in  fourteen  years.  A  sixth  boy  staid  in  the  office  until  he 
was  earning  ten  dollars  a  week,  lived  on  eight,  and  saved 
two.  When  he  had  a  hundred  dollars  he  applied  for  a 
place  in  the  stock.  As  he  had  been  four  years  with  the 
firm,  and  was  twenty-one  years  old,  they  gave  him  six  dol- 
lars a  week  to  begin  on.  This,  with  the  money  he  had 
saved,  enabled  him  to  live  as  well  as  the  year  before.  The 
following  year  he  was  raised  to  eight  dollars ;  in  six 
months,  to  twelve;  six  mouths  later,  to  fifteen,  and  he  is 
now  head  of  his  department  and  buyer  for  a  large  import- 


ing house.  He  receives  a  salary  of  five  thousand  a  year, 
and  a  share  in  the  profits  of  his  department,  which  amounts 
to  as  much.  He  makes  two  trips  every  year  to  Europe, 
and  lias  all  his  expenses  paid  while  he  is  travelling  for  the 
house.  Of  those  six  boys,  the  parents  of  only  two  lived 
in  the  city. 

Thus  far  I  have  treated  only  of  the  chances  in  whole- 
sale mercantile  establishments,  such  as  deal  in  dry  goods, 
hardware,  and  so  forth.  These,  however,  form  only  a  small 
portion  of  the  business  enterprises  in  N.ew  York.  There 
are  banking  houses,  manufacturing  concerns,  publishing 
houses,  insurance  companies,  and  hosts  of  agents  for  any- 
thing and  everything,  not  to  mention  the  great  number  of 
retail  stores,  all  of  which  employ  clerical  assistance,  and  in 
any  one  of  which  the  country  lad  looking  for  work  may 
suddenly  find  himself  employed.  It  is  a  saying,  as  true  as 
it  is  old,  that  it  is  the  unexpected  that  happens. 

I  know  a  boy  who  had  lived  all  his  life  in  the  city, 
whose  parents  were  people  of  position  and  influence.  He 
spent  three  weeks,  working  six  hours  a  day,  in  calling 
upon,  every  business  man  he  knew,  or  whom  his  father 
knew,  or  to  whom  he  could  get  letters  of  introduction,  ask- 
ing for  work,  and  finally  found  it  through  a  young  fellow 
of  his  own  age  whom  he  had  met  casually  during  his  pre- 
vious summer  vacation.  So  it  may  be  with  the  country 
boy.  The  opening,  when  it  does  come,  may  be  in  the  very 
opposite  direction  from  that  in  which  he  is  looking.  If  he 
is  wise  he  will  slip  into  it,  however  different  it  may  be 
from  what  he  wants.  He  will  at  least  be  earning  money, 
and  can  keep  up  his  search  for  what  he  does  want  until  he 
finds  it.  If  he  is  faithful  and  energetic  he  will  gain  the 
approval  of  his  employers,  and  be  able  to  take  a  city  refer- 
ence with  him  when  he  leaves  for  the  "  something  better." 

He  may  even  find  that  there  are  unsuspected  opportu- 
nities in  the  place  that  seemed  so  unpromising  to  him  when 
he  took  it.  A  great  deal  depends  upon  the  boy.  Some 
boys  will  rise  more  quickly  in  one  place  than  in  another. 
The  boy  who  is  bound  to  rise  will  get  to  the  top  no  matter 
where  he  finds  himself.  Few  boys  would  take  a  position 
behind  the  counter  iu  a  retail  store  if  they  could  get  any- 
thing better,  yet  some  clerks  rise  to  be  floor-walkers,  and 
some  floor-walkers  rise  to  be  buyers,  and  some  buyers  be- 
come partners  and  proprietors  and  amass  great  wealth. 

I  know  one  young  man  who  had  a  good  position  in  a 
wholesale  hardware  house,  who  gave  it  up  to  take  a  place 
at  lower  wages  iu  a  retail  store.  He  argued  that  as  the 
retail  hardware  business  was  not  one  which  usually  at- 
tracted energetic  and  ambitious  young  men  he  would  meet 
with  little  competition  from  his  fellow  clerks.  He  was 
right.  They  knew  only  one  side  of  hardware,  the  retail 
side.  He  knew  hardware  inside  and  out.  He  soon  found 
that  he  knew  more  than  the  proprietor,  and  showed  him 
how  he  could  buy  to  better  advantage.  Then  he  said  he 
thought  he  would  go  back  to  his  old  place,  but  his  em- 
ployer offered  him  an  interest  in  the  business,  and  he  staid. 

I  know  another  boy  who  had  some  experience  iu  retail 
clothing  in  an  interior  town.  He  came  to  New  York,  an- 
swered an  advertisement,  and  obtained  work  in  a  large 
retail  clothing  house  here.  Then  he  studied  clothes.  When 
he  had  learned  all  about  clothes,  he  studied  cloths.  He 
made  friends  with  young  men  of  his  own  age  who  were 
employed  in  importing  houses  and  commission  houses,  and 
learned  the  difference  between  English  cloths  and  French 
cloths  and  American  cloths.  Whenever  he  could  he  would 
go  into  other  clothing  stores,  price  their  goods,  perhaps  try 
on  a  suit,  and  observe  their  methods.  One  day  a  fellow- 
salesman  came  to  him,  and  said  :  "  I  have  just  come  into  a 
legacy  of  twenty  thousand  dollars,  and  I  am  going  into 
business  on  my  own  account.  But  all  I  know  is  how  to 
sell  ready-made  clothes.  I  know  very  little  about  cloth, 
and  nothing  about  manufacturing  or  buying  clothes.  If 
you  will  come  with  me  and  attend  to  that  end  of  the  busi- 
ness, I  will  give  you  a  two-fifths  interest."  That  firm  now 
imports  its  foreign  cloths  direct,  and  its  American  goods 
are  manufactured  to  its  order. 

Such  are  the  stories  of  a  few  boys  whom  I  know.  They 
show  how  some  boys  came  to  the  city  to  seek  employment 
and  found  it,  and  may  serve  to  show  the  way  to  others. 


1063 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


THE  HORSE   OF  THE   SHEIK  OF  THE 
MOUNTAIN   OF    SINGING   SANDS. 

WITH  the  money  •which  they  secured  from  the  spoils 
of  the  Arab  tribe,  Dncardauoy,  the  ventriloquist, 
ami  Bouchardy,  the  prestidigitateur,  purchased  a  fine 
vineyard  at  Nouvelle  Saar-Louis.  The  story  of  the  man- 
ner in  which  they  had  acquired  their  money  passed  from 
month  to  mouth  among  the  European  population,  and  at 
length  the  Arabs  of  the  town  heard  it,  and  repeated  it  to 
their  brethren  of  the  desert.  At  times  the  ex-chiropodists 
saw  strange  Arabs  loitering  in  the  road  before  their  prem- 
ises and  regarding  the  house  with  careful  scrutiny,  but  the 
garrison  was  not  far  away  and  no  acts  of  violence  were 
committed.  It  was  nearly  a  year,  however,  before  they 
ceased  to  have  apprehensions  of  poniard  thrusts  in  the 
baclc  or  of  awaking  to  find  their  house  in  flames. 

"  It  is  plain,"  said  Ducardanoy,  as  they  were  celebrating 
the  anniversary  of  their  arrival  at  Nouvelle  Saar-Lonis  by 
a  dinner  to  their  friends,  "  that  those  fellows  regard  us  as 
magicians  of  great  power,  else  they  would  have  sought  re- 
venge before  this." 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Bouchardy.  "Every- 
body here  is  well  acquainted  with  our  story,  and  I'll  wager 
that  the  frightened  tribesmen  themselves  now  know  that 
there  was  nothing  supernatural  in  the  entertainment  to 
which  we  treated  them.  It  is  the  proximity  of  the  garri- 
son that  has  prevented  them  from  taking  a  revenge." 

"I  would  like  another  encounter  with  the  fellows  in 
trade  or  in  battle,"  said  Ducardanoy.  "  There  would  be 
mouey  in  it,  there  would  be  money  in  it."  And  as  if  in 
answer  to  his  wish,  there  was  ushered  in  an  Arab  mulatto 
of  the  giant  stature  that  characterizes  the  cross  of  the 
Arab  and  negro.  He  was  a  messenger  from  the  Sheik  of 
the  Mountain  of  Singing  Sands,  he  said,  and  had  come  to 
request  the  professional  services  of  the  two  gentlemen  in 
the  case  of  the  Sheik's  horse  Sunlight,  who  was  grievously 
afflicted  with  a  corn  on  his  right  forefoot.  The  chiropodists 
opened  their  eyes.  Everybody  in  Algeria  had  heard  of  the 
stallion  Sunlight,  an  animal  whom  money  could  not  buy, 
and  who  was  said  to  wear  shoes  of  gold  set  with  precious 
stones. 

"  A  corn  on  a  horse's  hoof  is  not  the  same  thing  as  a  corn 
on  a  man's  foot,"  said  Ducardanoy. 

"  But  we  can  cure  it,  nevertheless,"  said  Bouchardy. 

"Do  not  interfere,  Bouchardy.  You  know  nothing  of 
surgery  of  the  feet,"  said  Ducardanoy,  scornfully.  "I 
shall  require  more  pay  for  curing  a  corn  on  a  horse's  hoof 
than  I  would  in  the  case  of  a  man." 

"  The  Sheik  will  fill  your  mouth  with  gold,"  said  the  mes- 
senger. 

The  Sheik's  camp  was  pitched  in  the  open  desert,  and  the 
men  of  science  vainly  looked  about  in  every  direction  for  the 
far-famed  hill  against  whose  western  face  lay  an  immense 
heap  of  sand  that  hummed  and  sung  whenever  its  surface 
was  disturbed  and  sent  sliding  downward.  The  Sheik 
was  himself  troubled  with  a  bad  foot,  due  to  his  imprudently 
\\earing  a  pair  of  razor-toed  patent-leather  shoes  presented 
to  him  by  the  General  commanding  the  department,  and 
Ducardanoy  was  asked  to  relieve  him  before  examining  the 
golden-shod  horse. 

"Where  is  the  Mountain  of  Singing  Sands?"  asked  Du- 
cardanoy, as  he  finished  tying  the  last  bandage  on  the 
Sheik's  foot. 

"We  do  not  always  camp  in  one  place,  you  know,"  said 
the  Sheik  ;  "  but  you  will  see  it  shortly." 

"  How  so  ?"  asked  Ducardauoy,  in  surprise.  "  It  is  not 
visible,  on  the  horizon,  and  must  be  a  day's  journey.  How 
shall  I  see  it  shortly?" 

"You  will  see  it  as  the  Evil  One  flies  through  the  air 
with  your  soul  on  the  way  to  the  abode  of  the  lost.  Mus- 
tapha,  bring  out  Sunlight  and  his  consort,  and  make  ready 
to  drag  these  infidels  asunder." 

The  chiropodists  turned  pale  as  this  command  was  given, 
and  the  horses  were  brought  forth,  one  a  dapple  gray  with 
gold  shoes,  the  other  a  dapple  gray  with  silver  shoes,  and 
they  had  not  yet  uttered  a  word  when  the  Sheik's  retain- 
ers advanced  to  bind  them. 


"Stop!"  cried  Dncardauoy.  "Why  are  we  to  be  killed? 
What  is  our  crime?" 

"Do  you  not  remember  the  time  when  by  your  devilish 
arts  you  frightened  some  true  believers  at  the  Roman  tower 
and  took  their  property?  The  Sheik  of  that  tribe  was  my 
nephew,  and  even  if  he  were  no  kin  of  mine,  you  infidel 
dogs  should  die  for  robbing  true  believers." 

"When  death  is  a  punishment,"  said  Bouchardy,  "it  is 
where  the  man  desires  to  live  and  cannot,  for  if  he  desires 
to  die,  death  can  be  no  punishment.  Now  when  you  sub- 
ject us  to  the  slow  torture  of  being  pulled  apart  by  these 
horses,  we  hail  death  with  delight  as  a  relief  to  pain,  and 
your  punishment  has  failed." 

The  Sheik  scowled  and  said  nothing. 

"  Where  death  comes  quickly  and  without  pain,"  contin- 
ued Bouchardy,  "  the  desire  to  live  is  intense,  and  death  is 
all  that  the  utmost  hate  can  ask  for  as  a  revenge." 

•'Why  do  you  point  out  these  things  to  us?"  asked  the 
Sheik's  vizier.  "If  what  you  say  is  true,  why  do  you 
point  out  to  us  a  way  to  make  your  punishment  more  ter- 
rible ?" 

"  To  show  you  how  much  wiser  we  Frenchmen  are  than 
you  Arabs.  To  make  you  see  how  hopeless  is  the  design 
you  witless  Arabs  cherish  of  driving  the  wise  French  from 
the  land.  If  my  sorrow  can  accomplish  anything  for  the 
republic,  I  willingly  endure  it." 

"Let  them  be  shot,  and  at  once,"  growled  the  Sheik. 

"I  crave  a  boon,"  said  Bouchardy.  "We  have  cured 
your  painful  foot,  and  we  have  the  right  to  ask  a  boon." 

"If  it  be  nothing  that  interferes  with  your  death  be- 
fore the  edge  of  the  sun  touches  the  horizon  it  shall  be 
granted." 

"  It  is  that  we  be  shot  with  my  revolver,  and  I  be  allowed 
to  load  it." 

The  revolver  was  loaded,  and  the  Sheik  himself  stepped 
forth  and  aimed  it  at  Bouchardy. 

Bang ! 

"  Ha!  ha!"  laughed  Bouchardy,  and  opening  his  mouth,  ho 
dropped  out  the  bullet. 

Bang  !  went  a  second  chamber  of  the  revolver. 

"Ha!  ha!"  laughed  Bouchardy  again,  and  again  he 
dropped  a  bullet  from  his  mouth. 

"  Ha!  ha!"  chuckled  a  big  dromedary  at  the  right  of  the 
Sheik,  and  the  man  turned  in  startled  fright  and  fired  at 
the  animal. 

"Ha!  ha!"  said  the  dromedary,  and  Bouchardy  stepped 
up  to  it,  and  opening  its  month,  produced  the  bullet. 

"Ha!  ha!"  said  the  dromedary.  "Ha!  ha!"  said  (ho 
donkey  of  the  Sheik's  favorite  wife.  "Ha!  ha!"  said  the 
horse  of  the  vizier. 

"  Dogs, scoundrels, cowards!"  sneered  the  dromedary. 

Bang!  But  not  the  bang  of  the  revolver,  and  the  flint- 
lock of  the  vizier  was  smoking,  and  the  dromedary  had 
fallen,  and  its  life  blood  was  pouring  out  on  the  sand. 
Bang!  bang!  went  other  flint-locks.  Bullets  whizzed  by 
Bonchardy's  ears,  and  he  did  not  take  them  out  of  his 
mouth. 

"  Hold!"  came  a  voice  from  the  mouth  of  the  dying  cam- 
el. "  The  curse  of  Allah  is  on  the  tribe.  He  has  loosed 
the  Singing  Sands  from  their  place,  and  they  are  sweeping 
over  the  desert  to  overwhelm  you.  Listen  !" 

Guns  that  had  been  raised  to  the  position  of  aim  were 
lowered,  half-drawn  swords  dropped  back  into  their  scab- 
bards, and  all  listened  as  a  low  hum  was  heard  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  rapidly  began  to  grow  louder  and  nearer. 

"  I  see  it,"  cried  Ducardanoy.     "Fly!  fly!"' 

The  Arabs  rushed  wildly  to  their  steeds.  Bouchardy  and 
Ducardanoy  sprang  upon  Sunlight  and  Moonlight  and 
spurred  away  to  the  north,  and  the  Arabs  rushed  away  to 
the  west,  and  the  hum  of  the  approaching  Singing  Sands, 
if  it  was  still  sounding,  was  drowned  in  the  confusion.  It 
was  not  until  they  had  ridden  half  an  hour  that  Bouchardy 
and  Ducardanoy  saw  the  Arabs  pause  in  their  flight  and 
finally  turn  northward. 

"They  have  begun  to  suspect  that  we  outwitted  them, 
and  are  after  us,"  said  Ducardauoy. 

"Let  them  come,"  said  Bonchardy.  "There  is  not  a 
horse  in  Africa  that  can  catch  us."  W.  A.  CURTIS. 


1064 


u 


INTERSCHOEASTIC 


IT  is  TO  BE  REGRETTED  that  the  New  York  I.S.A.A.,  at  its 
meeting  two  weeks  ago,  failed  to  take  any  decisive  ac- 
tiou  in  regard  to  the  formation  of  a  National  Intel-scholastic 
Association,  for  an  enterprise  of  this  nature  requires  much 
time  :iml  thought  to  ensure  success,  and  in  order  to  hold  a 
creditable  field  day  next  June  preparations  for  the  gather- 
ing should  be  begun  at  once.  We  may  confidently  count, 
however,  on  definite  action  being  taken  at  the  meeting  to 
be  held  a  fortnight  hence,  and  then  the  work  will  be  pushed 
along  rapidly,  and  the  plans  hitherto  merely  talked  of 
will  be  crystallized  into  permanent  form.  That  the  va- 
rious scholastic  associations  all  over  the  country  are  anx- 
ious to  have  the  scheme  put  through  there  is  no  doubt. 
The  Maine  and  the  California  associations  have  already 
given  notice,  through  their  secretaries,  of  their  desire  to 
join  a  National  Association,  and  similar  informal  notifica- 
tions have  come  from  the  New  England,  the  Pennsylvania, 
the  Connecticut,  and  the  Iowa  associations.  I  would  sug- 
gest that  all  other  interscholastic  associations  whose  senti- 
ments lean  in  this  direction  communicate  informally  with 
this  Department,  giving  the  name  and  address  of  some 
member  with  whom  the  N. Y.I. S. A. A.  committee  on  prelim- 
inary organization  may  correspond  as  soon  as  they  organize, 
and  these  communications  will  be  submitted  to  the  proper 
officers  of  the  N.Y.I.S.A.A.  in  due  time. 

ONE  OF  THE  QUESTIONS  that  must  come  up  at  the  outset, 
and  that  as  a  matter  of  fact  has  already  come  up  in  the  in- 
formal discussions  of  the  subject,  is  whether  membership 
in  the  proposed  National  Association  shall  be  restricted  to 
State  and  city  I.  S.  A.A.'s,  or  open,  as  well,  to  individual 
schools.  It  were  better  at  first,!  think, that  membership  be 
restricted  to  associations  ;  that  is,  that  the  larger  body  be 
made  up  of  smaller  organizations,  which  in  turn  are  com- 
posed of  individual  institutions.  Then  the  competitors  at 
the  national  meeting  would  represent  the  best  and  strongest 
athletic  talent  of  the  State  and  city  leagues — men  who  had 
earned  their  right  to  compete  by  having  won  in  their  event 
at  their  own  State  or  city  contest. 

SOME  SORT  OF  EXCEPTION  could  be  made  in  favor  of  large 
schools  that  do  not  belong  to  any  association,  or  whose  as- 
sociatiou,  should  they  be  members  of  one,  could  not  for  some 
reason  send  a  team  to  the  national  meeting.  The  question 
will  come  up  for  decision  in  the  case  of  the  Oakland  High- 
School  of  California.  This  school  belongs  to  the  Academic 
Athletic  League  of  the  Pacific  Coast,  and  is  imbued  with  suf- 
ficient sporting  spirit  to  wish  to  come  East,  and  enter  the 
National  Interscholastic  lists.  The  A.A.L.  might  hesitate  at 
undertaking  to  send  a  team  to  New  York  on  account  of  the 
expense;  but  because  the  A.A.L.  cannot  send  a  representative 
team  is  no  reason  why  the  O.H.-S.  should  not  be  allowed  to 
compete.  As  a  matter  of  fact  any  team  representative  of 
the  A.A.L.  would  be  largely  made  up  of  O.H.-S.  athletes. 
It  is  very  probable,  however,  that  the  A.A.L.  will  be  per- 
fectly willing,  and  even  anxious,  to  have  the  O.H.-S.  team 
come  East  (at  its  own  expense),  as  the  representative  not 
only  of  the  Oakland  School,  but  of  the  entire  Academic 
League.  It  could  place  its  reputation  in  much  worse 
hands.  But  whatever  the  A.A.L.'s  inclination  may  be,  the 
organizers  of  the  National  Association  must  formulate  some 
rule  that  shall  cover  this  and  similar  cases,  or  they  will  find 
themselves  constantly  called  upon  to  solve  knotty  and  com- 
plicated questions. 

Tim  NEW  YOUK  INTEHSCHOLASTIC  football  season  is  more 
backward  this  year  than  ever  before.  There  seems  to  be 
almost  no  interest  in  the  game  except  here  and  there,  and 


several  schools  have  announced  that  they  will  not  even 
put  teams  in  the  field.  Harvard  School  is  one  of  those. 
The  reason  given  is  that  the  principal  considers  the  game 
as  played  now  too  rough  for  his  pupils.  A  member  of  the 
school,  however,  asserts  that  the  true  reason  is  that  the 
Harvard  scholars  are  not  good  enough  at  the  game  for  the 
school  to  stand  any  chance  in  the  league  contests,  should  it 
enter.  There  is  a  good  deal  too  much  of  the  desire  to  win 
"prizes"  in  most  of  our  local  scholastic  athletics  which 
ought  to  be  strongly  discouraged.  It  is  regrettable  to  have 
to  admit  it,  but  I  am  persuaded  that  if  it  should  be  an- 
nounced that  only  ribbons  would  be  given  as  prizes  at  all 
future  track-athletic  games,  five-eighths  of  those  who  go 
into  the  games  at  present  would  cease  to  take  any  interest 
in  tin'  sports.  As  a  purifier  of  athletics  I  think  the  ribbon 
system  might  be  a  good  thing  to  try. 

THE  LONG  ISLAND  ASSOCIATION,  like  its  cousin  on  this 
side  of  the  river,  has  decided  to  adopt  the  Yale-Princeton 
football  rules.  This  is  fortunate,  because  it  will  save  con- 
siderable trouble  in  view  of  the  Inter-City  games,  and  we 
should  always  be  glad  when  we  can  get  rid  of  an  element 
of  dispute.  For  the  Fates  only  know  that  there  are  enough 
squabbles  in  athletics  already  without  borrowing  any  from 
the  colleges  or  anywhere  else.  And,  besides,  the  Yale- 
Princeton  rules  are  the  most  suitable  for  the  schools  in  this 
section.  In  New  England  it  is  different,  for  the  presence 
and  influence  of  Harvard  there  enter  into  the  question. 

THE  ST.  MARK'S  ELEVEN  is  making  every  effort  to  get 
into  form  for  the  game  with  its  old  rival,  Groton,  and  in  its 
preliminary  games  thus  far  the  men  have  shown  up  well. 
White  is  a  veteran,  and  is  playing  again  at  full-back,  where 
he  did  good  work  last  year.  The  previous  season  he  was 
at  quarter-back,  hut  his  punting  makes  him  a  more  desir- 
able man  further  back.  Nash  is  playing  right  half-back, 
and  Captain  Mills  will  probably  play  left  half.  Nash  is  a 
new  man  on  the  team,  but  has  improved  greatly  since  the 
beginning  of  the  season.  Hatch  is  another  novice  on  the 
first  eleven,  hut  had  some  practice  at  quarter-back  on  the 
second  last  yeai\ which  position  he  will  fill  on  the  first  this 
year.  In  the  line,  Watson,  right  tackle,  Hare,  left  tackle, 
and  Davis,  right  end,  tilled  the  same  positions  last  year. 
The  new  men,  Watson,  Egbert,  and  Humphreys  are  all  im- 
proving fast  under  good  coaching,  and  there  is  no  reason 
why  the  team  should  not  develop  into  a  strong  one  at  the 
end  of  the  season. 

THE  CONNECTICUT  LEAGUE  has  been  reorganized,  and  now 
consists  of  the  following  schools:  Hillhouse  H.-S.  and  Hop- 
kins Grammar,  of  New  Haven  ;  Hartford,  Bridgeport,  New 
Britain,  and  Waterbnry  high-schools  ;  and  Norwich  and  Suf- 
field  academies.  The  schedule  of  championship  games  he- 
gins  on  October  26th,  when  Hartford  meets  New  Britain, 
Suffield  meets  Norwich,  Hillhouse  meets  Bridgeport,  and 
Hopkins  Grammar  meets  Waterbury.  The  winners  of  these 
matches  will  play  on  November  2d,  and  the  championship 
will  be  decided  on  the  Yale  Field  a  week  later. 

ALL  THE  TEAMS  OF  THE  LEAGUi?  have  been  getting  good 
practice, and  have  played  a  number  of  smaller  games.  The 
Hartford  H.-S.  team  seems  to  offer  the  greatest  promise  at 
present;  but  since  their  defeat  by  the  Springfield  H.-S. 
there  has  been  a  notable  shake-up.  Bryant  is  playing  at 
tackle  again,  and  Smith,  last  year's  centre,  is  in  his  old 
place.  Grant,  a  new  man,  is  playing  guard  in  Lyman's 
place,  while  Lyman  has  moved  up  one  to  tackle.  Goodell 
has  dropped  back  of  the  line,  taking  Jenkins'  place,  who  is 


1065 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


l.-iiil  <>tf.  Mori-mil  is  licilding  down  right,  end,  vice  Twitchell. 
This  nc.w  arrangement  will  probably  be  in  e-ffect  when 
Hartford  lines  up  against  IIilllicni.se'  on  the  2d  of  next 
month. 

FOR  SOME  YEARS  PAST  there  have  been  rumors,  more  or 
less  well-founded,  that  certain  players  on  teams  of  the 
Connecticut  League  had  no  business  playing,  and  hints  of 
pecuniary  recompense  were  not  whispered  in  low  tones, 
but  called  out.  loudly.  New  Britain  came  in  for  a  gen- 
erous share  of  these  aspersions,  ami  from  all  I  am  able  to 
learn  richly  deserved  them  two  or  three  years  ago.  I  be- 
lieve, however,  that  a  better  appreciation  of  sportsmanship 
prevails  there  at  present,  and  I  doubt  if  the  other  schools 
in  the  league  will  find  it  necessary  to  protest  any  of  the 
New  Britain  players  this  year. 

COMPLAINTS  HAVE  BEEN  MADE,  to  be  sure,  but  upon  in- 
vestigation I  find  that  the  trouble  arises  out  of  the  fact 
that  the  New  Britain  Captain  has  allowed  two  or  three  out- 
siders to  play  on  his  team  in  practice  games  (notably  in 
the  recent  contest  at  Waterbmy),  rather  than  to  jeopard 
his  chances  of  victory  by  using  weak  substitutes.  I  am 
assured,  however,  that  no  such  tricks  will  be  played  in  any 
championship  match.  The  method  ought  not  to  have  been 
adopted  even  in  practice.  It  is  not  sportsmanlike,  and  is 
cowardly  in  that  the  New  Britain  men  are  knowingly  and 
unfairly  taking  advantage  of  their  opponents  if  they  allow 
players  on  their  eleven  who  are  not  in  regular  attendance 
at  the  New  Britain  High-School. 

BY  DOING  ANYTHING  OF  THIS  KIND  a  captain  not  only 
attempts  to  conquer  his  opponents  by  unfair  means  and 
false  representations,  but  he  stultifies  himself.  He  admits 
that  he  has  not  men  good  enough,  or  is  incapable  to  training 
players  who  shall  be  strong  enough,  to  defeat  the  eleven 
with  whom  he  has  agreed  to  play.  He  therefore  secures  a 
few  good-natured,  able-bodied  outsiders,  who  are  the  means 
of  earning  a  victory;  but  it  is  not  the  High-School  team 
that  has  won.  It  is  a  team  made  up  of  a  few  High-School 
players  and  a  few  others.  All  this  sounds  harsh  when  put 
into  cold  type.  The  case  seems  so  different  when  smoothed 
over  with  pleasant  words.  It  is  good  for  sport  to  have 
facts  put  in  plain  English  occasionally.  So  far  there  has 
been  no  great  harm  done  at  New  Britain  this  year,  and  I 
hope  the  players  there  will  soon  see  the  justness  of  restrict- 
ing membership  on  their  team  to  lx»ui  //</<  scholars.  And, 
in  passing,  let  me  add  that  there  are  a  number  of  other 
captains  who  may  read  the  foregoing  paragraphs  to  their 
great  advantage,  for  this  criticism  is  by  no  means  intended 
to  be  particular,  but  general. 

NEXT  SATURDAY  THE  NEW  BRITAIN  TEAM  will  play  the 
Hillhouse  High-School  eleven  on  the  Yale  Field  at  New 
Haven.  The  game  should  be.  of  interest  not  only  because 
both  teams  are  good  ones,  but  because  these  two  schools 
have  not  met  since  the  championship  game'  played  in  the 
fall  of  1893,  when  New  Britain  succeeded  in  defeating  the 
New  Haven  eleven  for  the  championship  of  the  League. 
At  the  time  a  protest  was  enierecl  against  a  player  named 
Wheeler,  of  the  New  linlain  team,  who  was  charged  with 
being  a  professional  athlete.  There-  is  little  doubt  that 
Wheeler  was  a  professional,  but  the  charges  were  not  sus- 
tained at  a  later  meeting,  and  the  trophy  went  to  the  New 
Britain  team. 

THE  BIGGEST  SCORE  AT  FOOTBALL  that  the'.  Harvard  'Var- 
3il  v  ever  ma.de  against  Exeter  was,  158  to  0.  That  was  in 
1886,  I  believe,  and  unless  I  am  mistaken  it  is  the  record 
for  big  scores  in  a  game  between  two  regularly  organized 
and  trained  elevens.  Nevertheless,  the  P.E.A.  team  that 
was  vanquished  by  this  enormous  score  went  down  to  Au- 
dover  and  defeated  their  rivals  26  to  0.  This  year  Har- 
\  aid's  scorn  against  Exeter  was  42  to  0,  and  yet  there'  is 
little  doubt  that  Andover  could  easily  take  Exeter  into 
camp  if  the  two  schools  should  meet.  This  shous  hem- 
little  teams  can  be  judged  by  comparing  scores.  The 


Exeter  eleven  this  year  is  not  a  good  one,  and  yet  the  fig- 
ures of  the  Harvard  game  would  seem  to  show  that  it  is. 
When  the  play  is  analyzed,  however,  the  truth  is  apparent. 
For  instance,  at  no  time  during  the  game  did  Exeter  suc- 
ceed either  in  advancing  the  ball  the  necessary  five  yards 
on  four  downs,  nor  were  her  men  able  to  hold  Harvard  for 
four  downs,  or  to  compel  the  Harvard  back  to  punt. 

THK  PLAY  BETWEEN  EACH  TOUCH-DOWN  was  almost 
identical.  Exeter  would  kick  off  and  the  ball  would  be 
punted  back  by  one  of  the 'varsity  players.  If  the  crimson 
forwards  got  down  the  field  fast  enough,  as  they  frequent- 
ly did,  they  secured  the  ball  and  proceeded  with  the  play 
until  they  scored.  If  a  P.E.A.  man  got  the  ball  then  Har- 
vard would  force  the  school-team  to  lose  a  few  yards,  and 
at  the  fourth  down  Williams  would  punt.  Sometimes  he 
would,  and  sometimes  he  would  not,  because  the  Exeter 
rush-line  was  seldom  able  to  hold  the  college  men.  As 
soon  as  Harvard  got  the  ball  on  a  play  of  this  kind  a  couple 
of  runs  around  the  end  or  dives  through  the  centre  would 
net  a  touch-down.  It  is  surprising  that  the  winning  score 
was  not  twice  as  large.  Two  halves  of  fifteen  minutes  only 
were  played.  If  I  remember  correctly  the  158-0  game  lasted 
two  full-time  halves,  and  in  those  days  each  half  lasted 
three-quarters  of  an  hour. 

NEW  LEAGUES  AKE  SPRINGING  up  continually.  A  few 
days  ago  the  three  most  prominent  military  schools  of  the 
West  met  in  Chicago  and  organized  the  Northwestern  Mil- 
itary School  League,  which  is  to  consist  of  the  Shattuck 
Military  School,  at  Faribault,  Minnesota;  St.  John's  Mili- 
tary Academy,  at  Delafield,  Wisconsin  ;  and  the  Michigan 
Military  Academy  of  Orchard  Lake,  Michigan.  The  organ- 
ization is  to  cover  baseball,  football,  and  track  athletics. 
It  is  to  be-  a  triangular  league  at  present,  but  other  schools 
may  be  admitted  by  unanimous  vote.  No  arrangements 
have  yet  been  made  for  baseball  or  track  contests,  but  a 
football  schedule  has  been  laid  out  as  follows:  Shattuck 
will  meet  St.  John's  at  Minneapolis  or  St.  Paul  the  Satur- 
day before  Thanksgiving,  and  the  winner  will  play  Orchard 
Lake  at  Chicago  the  week  following.  This  league  ought 
to  grow  and  prosper,  for  it  is  just  the  kind  of  thing  that  is 
needed  among  the  schools  of  the  Northwest  to  encourage 
and  foster  interscholastic  sport. 

THE  INTER-PREPARATORY  LEAGUE  and  the  Cook  County 
High-School  F.B.  League,  of  Chicago,  are  at  present  the 
most  flourishing  scholastic  associations  of  the  West.  They 
are  both  strong  in  members,  and  some  of  the  school  teams 
are  putting  up  good  football.  The  Cook  County  H.-S.F.B. 
League's  schedule  is  made  out  as  follows: 

At  Oak  Park— Oct.  19,  English  High  and  Manual  Train- 
ing ;  Nov.  2,  West  Division  ;  Nov.  16,  Hyde  Park. 

At  Chicago  Manual  —  Oct.  13,  English  High;  Oct.  19, 
North  Division;  Nov.  Hi,  Lake  View;  Nov.  2:i,  Oak  Park. 

At  Lake  View— Oct.  12,  Oak  Park;  Oct.  19,  Hyde-  Park  : 
Oct.  26,  North  Division;  Nov.  2,  Englewood. 

At  Englewood— Oct.  26,  Oak  Park;  Nov.  26,  West  Divi- 
sion. 

At  English  High — Oct.  5,  Chicago  Manual ;  Oct.  9,  Lake 
View  ;  Nov.  23,  Enulewood. 

At  West  Division — Oct.  5,  Lake  View;  Oct.  12,  English 
High;  Oct.  28,  Manual  Training;  Nov.  16, North  Division. 

At  Hyde  Park— Oct.  9,  Euglewood;  Oct.  26,  English 
High;  Nov.  20,  Manual  Training. 

At  North  Division  — Oct.  5,  Oak  Park;  Nov.  2,  English 
High  ;  Nov.  9,  Euglewood;  Nov. 23,  Hyde  Park. 

THE  SEASON  OF  BOTH  the  Chicago  leagues  began  Saturday, 
as  the;  schedules  show,  the  Inter-Preparatory  A.  L.  arrange- 
ment of  games  being  in  this  order: 

Oct.  19 — Princeton- Yale  vs.  University,  at  Lincoln  Park  : 
Harvard  c.s-.  South  Side  Academy,  at  Washington  Park. 

Oct.  26 — Princeton- Yale  vs.  Harvard,  at  Washington 
Park;  rniversiry  c*. South  Side,  at  Lincoln  Park. 

Nov.  2  --Princeton- Yale  i-.«.  South  Side,  at  Washington 
Park  ;  Harvard  rs.  University,  at  Lincoln  Park. 


1066 


HARPEB'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Nov.  ;i — Princeton-Yale  vs.  University,  at 
Washington  Park;  Harvard  Kg.  South  Side, 
;lt  Washington  Park. 

Nov.  16  —  University  ''*.  Smith  Side,  at 
Washington  Paris;  Princeton- Yale  r«.  Har- 
vard, at  Washington  Park. 

Nov.  23 — Princeton-Yale  vs.  South  Side,  at 
Washington  Park;  Harvard  c».  University. 
at  Washington  Park. 

THE  OPENING  GAME  of  the  Junior  League 
of  Huston  proved  a  walk-over  for  Newton 
High,  whose  eleven  defeated  Roxhury  High, 
30-0.  The  Newton  team  has  greatly  im- 
proved since  Brookline  High  forced  it  out 
of  the  Senior  League,  and  will  be  able  to 
give  the  Brooldinites  a  hard  tussle  should 
they  meet  again.  The  team -work,  espe- 
cially, in  the  Roxbury  game  was  good.  Ev- 
ery man  knew  his  place,  and  played  it  for 
all  he  was  worth,  and  the  interference  for 
the.  backs  was  excellent.  Roxbnry.on  the 
other  hand, put  up  a  weak  game,  and  their 
rush-line  seemed  incapable  of  shutting  off 
the  Newton  backs.  The  Roxbur}1  ends  did 
the.  best  work  for  the  visitors. 

THE  GRADUATE. 


LITTLE  MAUGAUICT.  "  Mamma,  Ijes  b'lieve 
'twas  Johnny  'at  broke  my  doll." 

MAMMA.  "Why,  dear?  What  makes  you 
think  so?" 

LITTLE  MARGARET.  "'Cause  he  said  he 
didn't  'tliout  my  askin'." 


UDDING 
STICK 


This  Department  is  conducted  in  the  Interest  of  Girls  nnd  Young 
Women,  and  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to  answer  any  question  on 
the  subject  eo  far  as  possible.  Correspondents  should  address  Editor. 

THE  prettiest  way  to  arrange  your  hair? 
Especially  if  it  is  very  long,  very  thick, 
and  a  ujost  beautiful  color,  yet  cannot  be 
worn  hanging  down  in  braids,  because  you 
are  too  tall  for  anything  so  childish,  nor 
fastened  up  in  a  graceful  Psyche  knot  at 
the  hack  of  the  head,  quite  near  the  neck, 
because  it  is  too  heavy,  and  comes  tumbling 
down  at  inconvenient  seasons.  Lovely  hair, 
but  an  embarrassment  of  riches,  is  it  not? 

If  it  were  my  hair,  and  I  were  the  dear 
young  girl  who  finds  it  a  bother  and  a  bur- 
den, I  would  coil  it.  on  top  of  my  head  and 
\\ear  it  like  a  crown.  I  wouldn't  mind  its 
having  the  effect  of  making  me  look  taller, 
and  I  would  stand  up  very  straight,  and 
look  as  tall  as  I  could.  In  my  opinion  height 
is  a  beauty,  and  I  never  care  about  a.  "ji Ts 
being  tall,  except  to  admire  her.  Tall  girls 
must  mind  that  they  carry  themselves  well, 
and  do  not  stoop  nor  crane  their  heads  for- 
ward as  if  they  had  lost  something  and 
wen>  perpetually  looking  for  it.  You  re- 
ineiuber  Tennyson's  picture,  do  you  not,  a 
word  picture  such  as  only  a  poet  could 
paint: 

"  A  daughter  of  the  gods, 
Divinely  tall,  and  most  divinely  fair." 

If  the  coronal  effect  were  unbecoming,  or 
i;;i\e  a  feeling  of  weight"  on  top  of  my  head, 
then  I  would  braid  the  hair  in  several 


strands,  and  mass  it  all  over  the  back  of  the 
head.  I  would  simply  part  it  in  the  mid- 
dle, and  avoid  fringes,  and  bangs,  and  little 
curls,  crimps,  and  other 'attempts  at  decora- 
tion in  front.  When  hair  has  a  natural  wave 
or  ripple  it  is  very  pretty,  and  should  have 
its  "ay,  but  straight  hair  is  pretty  too,  and 
girls  should  be  satisfied  to  wear  their  hair 
iu  the  style  nature  intended  for  them. 

AVOID  following  a  fashion  iu  hair-dress- 
ing simply  because  it  is  a  fashion.  Simon 
says  "  up,"  and,  presto!  a  hundred  thousand 
young  women  alter  their  way  of  arranging 
their  hair,  and  pile  it  steeple-fashion  above 
their  heads;  Simon  says  "down,"  and  in 
the  twinkling  of  an  eye  the  towers  fall. 
Now  any  sensible  girl  can  see  that  the  shape 
of  the  head,  the  shape  of  the  face,  anil  the 
general  style  of  the'  individual  are  to  be 
taken  into  account  in  her  dress,  and  her 
hair  is  an  important  part  of  this.  Choose 
a  style,  and  do  not  change  it,  except  for 
some  reason  stronger  than  a  caprice.  Do 
not  use  oils  or  liquids  of  any  kind  on  your 
head,  and  never  try  to  change  the  color  of 
I  your  hair.  Whatever  its  color,  it  is  the  one 


which  best  suits  you,  or  it  would  not  be 
yours.  Keel,  golden,  brown,  blade,  flaxen, 
whatever  be  the  tint,  lie  sure  it  is  the  one 
tint  that  matches  your  eyes  and  your  com- 
plexion better  than  any  other  could. 

WASH  your  hair  thoroughly  and  dry  it 
well  once  a  month.  Brush  it  carefully  for 
a  long  time  every  night,  and  braid  it  on  re- 
tiring. 

THE  girl  with  thin  hair  has  a  harder  prob- 
lem than  the  girl  whose  hair  is  thick.  .She 
must  beware  of  straining  it  back  and  of 
braiding  it  tightly.  Loose  coils  are  best  for 
her.  The  girl  who  insists  on  crimping  and 
waving  her  hair  should  know  that  by  wet- 
ting her  hair  with  cologne  before  putting 
hot  irons  on  it  she  can  insure  the  waves 
staying  in  fora  long  time,  and  she  must  not 
forget  that  very  great  heat  often  applied 
will  kill  the  life  of  her  hair  at  the  roots. 


Highest  of  all  in  Leavening  Strength.  —  Latest  U.  S.  Gov't  Report. 


Baking 
Powder 


LUTELY  PURE 


Co 


Fall  Underwear. 

"CARTWRIQHT  &  WARNER'S" 

Celebrated   Manufacture 
Ladies'1,   Children's,   Men's    Underwear. 


HOSIERY. 

Ladies'    Wool,    Camel 's  -  Hair,    Merino, 

and  Silk  Hose.     Cluldretfs  Hose  of 

every   style,  plain    and   ribbed. 


Golf  and  Bicycle   Hose. 

Fancy  and  Heather  Mixtures. 


NEW    YORK. 


the  best  things  in  Prose  and  Poetry,  always  includ- 
ing good  Songs  and  Hymns.  It  is  surprising  how 
little  good  work  of  this  kind  seems  to  be  done  in 
the  Schools,  if  one  must  judge  from  the  small  nnm- 
ber^of  people  who  can  repeat,  without  mistake  or 
omission,  as  many  as  Three  good  songs  or  hymns. 


and  accurate  Memory  work  is  a  most  excellent 
thing,  whether  in  School  or  out  of  it  .  among  all  ages 
and  ;ill  classes.  But  let  that  which  is  so  learned  be 
worth  learning  and  worth  retaining.  The  Franklin 
Square  Song  Collection  presents  a  large  number  of 


and  Hymns,  in  great  variety  and  very  carefully 
selected,  comprising  Sixteen  Hundred  in  the  Eigh't 
Numbers  thus  far  issued,  together  with  much 
choice  and  profitable  Reading  Matter  relating  to 
Music  and  Musicians.  In  the  complete  and  varied 


01]  §0nlmtb, 


which  is  sent  free  on  application  to  the  Publishers, 
there  are  found  dozens  of  the  best  things  in  the 
World,  which  are  well  worth  committing:  to  mem- 
ory; and  they  who  know  most  of  such  good  things, 
and  appreciate  and  enjoy  them  most,  are  really 
among  the  best  educated  people  in  any  country. 
Thev  have  the  best  result  of  Education.  *Forabo\'e 
Contents,  with  sample  pages  of  Music,  address 

Harper  &  Brothers.  New  York. 


1007 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


3ICYCLING 


Copyright,  1895,  by  Harper  &  Brothers. 


This  Department  is  conducted  in  the  interest  of  Bicyclers,  and  tlie  Editor  will  be  pleased  to 
answer  any  question  on  the  subject.  Our  maps  and  tours  contain  much  valuable  dnla  kindly 
supplied  from  the  ohVbi]  maps  and  road-books  of  the  League  cf  American  Wheelmen.  Recop- 
nizing  the  value  of  the  work  being  done  by  the  I..  A.  W.,  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to  furnish 
subscribers  with  membership  blanks  and  information  so  far  as  possible. 

AT  the  junction  of  Hnntiugton  Avenue  and  Boylsmu 
Street  is  Copley  Square,  oue  of  the  most  artistic 
spots  in  Boston,  and  a  very  convenient  and  popular  start- 
ing-point for  cycling  trips  into  the  .suburbs  and  the  out- 
lying country.  For  the  ride  to  Lexington  and  Concord 
oue  should  leave  the  Library  on  the  left,  and,  continuing 
through  Dartmouth  Street,  turn  to  the  left  into  Common- 
wealth Avenue.  At  the  statue  of  Leif  Ericsou  turn  to  the 
right  onto  Massachusetts  Avenue  and  pass  over  Harvard 
Bridge,  a  mile  in  length.  After  crossing  the  river  turn  to 
the  right  at  Norfolk  Street,  .and  then  to  the  left  onto  Har- 
vard Street.  You  now  pass  a  section  of  new  asphalt  road, 
and,  approaching  Harvard  Square,  keep  to  the  right  past 
the  College,  with  the  Common  on  the  left.  Among  the  in- 
teresting buildings  of  the  University  there  stands  out  the 
commanding  form  of  Memorial  Hall,  where  hundreds  of 
students  board.  On  the  left,  at  the  beginning  of  Brattle 
Street,  is  the  old  elm,  and  near  by  it  a  tablet  indicating 
the  spot  where  Washington  took  command  of  the  Conti- 
nental Army.  A  few  minutes'  run  out  Brattle  Street  will 
bring  one  to  the  home  of  the  poet  Longfellow,  opposite 
Longfellow  Park.  From  Cambridge  Common  the  ride  to 
Arlington  and  Lexington  is  a  direct  road  via  Massachusetts 
Avenue.  The  condition  of  the  road  is  good.  The  surface 
for  most  of  the  distance  has  been  macadamized,  while  the 
other  portions  are  gravelled  and  well  rolled. 

At  the  corner  of  Beech  Street  you  come  upon  the  line  of 
march  of  the  royal  army  which  was  sent  out  to  capture 
Adams  and  Hancock  at  Lexington,  and  to  destroy  the 
stores  collected  by  the  patriots  at  Concord.  From  this 
point  on  almost  every  old  house  has  some  historic  associa- 
tion, and  occasional  tablets  by  the  road-side  mark  scenes 
of  heroism.  In  the  vicinity  of  Lexington  the  country  be- 
comes more  rolling.  The  village  itself  is  two  hundred  feet 
above  the  sea-level.  Follow  the  main  street,  and  pass  on 
the  left  an  old-time  house  shaded  in  front  by  two  magnifi- 
cent trees.  This  is  the  Monroe  Tavern,  where  the  British 
officers  made  themselves  at  home.  On  the  rising  ground 
to  the  rear  of  this  house  were  some  of  Lord  Percy's  field- 
pieces.  Shortly  after  you  come  to  the  village  green,  where 
the  first  stand  was  made  for  liberty,  and  where  there  has 
been  erected  a  beautiful  monument  in  memory  of  the  first 
Revolutionary  martyrs.  To  the  right,  and  a  short  dis- 
tance from  the  Common  on  the  road  to  Bedford,  is  the  old 
Hancock-Clarke  house,  in  which  were  Hancock  and  Adams 
when  the  royal  troops  approached  Lexington.  From  the 
Common  keep  to  the  left  on  Lincoln  Street  to  the  Five  Cor- 
ners. There  turn  to  the  right,  into  Marrett  Street,  and  then 
turning  to  the  left  there  is  a  straight  way  into  Concord  by 
the  Lexington  road.  At  Merriam's  Corner,  not  far  from 
Concord,  is  a  stone  marking  the  beginning  of  the  British 
retreat.  Passing  this,  and  entering  the  village,  you  come 
upon  the  green  where  stands  the  old  Wright  Tavern,  a 
popular  place  for  wheelmen  to  dine.  A  run  should  be 
made  out  Monument  Street,  past  the  Thorean  House,  to 
the  monument  which  marks  the  fight  at  the  bridge.  It  is 
located  on  a  lane  leading  from  the  left  of  Monument 
Street,  and  a  sign  at  its  entrance  gives  you  the  cue. 

In  coming  back  to  Boston  follow  the  same  route  to  the 
Five  Corners,  and  there  turn  to  the  right  into  School 
Street,  and  to  the  right  again  into  Waltham  Street.  Here 

NOTI.— Map  of  New  York  city  asphalted  .treets  in  No.  809.  Map  of  route  from  -  ew  York 
to  Tarrytown  in  No  MO.  New  York  to  Stamford,  Connecticut,  in  No.  811.  New  York  to 
Stolen  Island  in  No.  812.  New  Jersey  from  Hnboken  to  Pine  Brook  In  No.  813.  Brooklyn  in 
No.  814.  "rooklyn  to  Babylon  in  No.  815.  Brooklyn  to  Northport  in  No  816.  Tarrylown 
to  Pougbkeepsie  in  No-  817.  Poughkeepsie  to  Hudson  in  No.  818.  Hudson  to  Albany  in  No. 
819.  Toltenville  to  Trenton  in  No  820.  Trenton  to  Philadelphia  in  No.  821.  Philadelphia 
in  No.  82!.  Philadelphia— Wissahickon  Route  ir  No.  823.  Philadelphia  to  West  Chester  in 
Nn  s  4.  Philadelphia  to  Atlantic  City— First  htape  in  No.  825 ;  Set  mid  Stnge  in  No.  826. 
Philadelphia  to  Vineland— First  Stage  in  No.  827.  Second  Stage  in  No.  628.  New  lorkto 
Boston— Second  Stage  in  No.  829 ;  Third  Stage  in  No  830  ,  Fourth  Slage  in  No.  831  ;  Fifth 
Stage  in  No.  832  ;  Sixth  Stage  in  No.  833. 


1068 


HARPEE'S   ROUND   TABLE 


the  rider  has  before  him  a  long  and  gradu- 
ally descending  road  with  excellent  surface 
and  good  coasting  most  of  the  way  to  Wal- 
tliain.  Keep  on  the  direct  road  until  Main 
Si  reel  is  rearlie.l.  and  there  turn  to  the  left, 
following  Main  Street  into  Watertown.  Then 
turn  to  the  right  into  North  Beacon  Street. 
This  is  practically  the  continuation  of  Com- 
monwealth Avenue,  and  the  rider  can  now 
follow  a  direct  way  to  Dartmouth  Street, 
\\  here,  turning  to  the  right,  he  passes  into 
Copley  Square. 

Distances  are :  Boston  to  Arlington,  seven 
miles;  to  Lexington,  five  miles;  to  Con- 
cord, six  miles ;  to  Waltham,  nine  miles;  to 
Watertowu,  three  miles;  to  Boston,  seven 
miles;  in  all,  thirty -seven  miles. 


NOT  ENCOURAGING. 

A  FRENCH  paper  tells  of  a  discouraging 
experience  an  ambitious  young  tenor 
once  had  when  trying  to  show  what  kind  of 
a  voice  he  had  to  a  manager.  After  he  had 
sounded  three  or  four  notes  the  manager 
stopped  him. 

"There,  that  will  do,"  he  said;  "leave  me 
your  address.  I  will  bear  you  in  mind  in 
case  of  emergency." 

"What  do  you  call  a  case  of  emergency  f 

"Well,  supposing  my  theatre  got  on 
fire." 

"Eh?" 

"Yes;  I  should  engage  you  to  sing  out, 
Fire!  fire!" 


A  POUND  OP  FACTS 

is  worth  oceans  of  theories.  More  infants  are  suc- 
cessfully raised  on  the  Guil  Bnrden  Eagle  Brand  Con- 
densed Milk  than  upon  any  other  food.  Infant 
Health  is  a  valuable  pamphlet  I'or  mothers.  Send  your 
address  to  N.  Y.  Condensed  Milk  Co.,  N.  Y.—  [Adv. 


Cycling 
Delight 


is  at  its  greatest  these 
days.  Cool,  bracing 
air ;  hard,  smooth, 
dustless  roads.  The 


COLUMBIA 


BICYCLE 


holds  $100  of  de- 
light in  every  dol- 
lar of  the  $100  it 
costs.  You  may 
just  as  well  buy 
your  machine  for 
next  year  now. 

POPE  MFG.  CO., 


HARTFORD,  CONN. 


Timely  Warning. 

The  great  success  of  the  chocolate  preparations  of 
the  house  of  Walter   Baker  &   Co.  (established 
in  1780)  has  led  to  the  placing  on  the  market 
many  misleading  and  unscrupulous  imitations 
of   their   name,    labels,    and    wrappers.     Walter 
Baker  &  Co.  are   the  oldest  and  largest  manu- 
facturers of   pure   and    high-grade   Cocoas    and 
Chocolates  on  this  continent.    No  chemicals  are 
used  in  their  manufactures. 

Consumers  should  ask  for,  and  be  sure  that 
they  get,  the  genuine  Walter  Baker  &  Co.'s  goods. 

WALTER  BAKER  &  CO.,   Limited, 

DORCHESTER,  MASS. 


WelN=Well==Well ! 

Oh,  Boys, 

How  long  are  we  to  tell  you 

"Rugby'Watches 

are  waiting  for  you  ?  We  wouldn't  jolly 
you  this  way  if  we  hadn't  something  that 
we  are  sure  you  want.  Send  for  the 
"Rugby"  Catalogue  —  never  mind  if 
you  don't  want  a  watch  now.  You  will 
have  a  pointer  when  you  are  ready. 

The  Waterbury  Watch  Co., 


206 


Waterbury,  Conn. 


We  will  help  bright  Boys  and 
Girls  in  every  town  to  earn  some 
Pocket-Money  before 
Christmas. 

It  will  be  an  easy  matter  to 
Earn  from   $5   upwards,  after 
School  hours  and  during 
Holidays  and  vacations. 
If  you  are  interested,  write 
At  once  to 

ALPHA  PUBLISHING  COMPANY, 

212  Boylston  Street,  Boston. 

OFFICIAL  ANNOUNCEMENT  °£">°*™rd 

CILLOTT'S  PENS  "it  the  CHICAGO  EXPOSITOR. 
A  kV  AICD :  "  For  excellence  of  steel  used  in  their 
manufacture,  it  being  tine  grained  and  elastic  ;  super- 
ior workmanship,  especially  shown  by  the  careful 
KrindinK  which  leaves  the  pens  free  from  defects.  The 
tempering  is  excellent  and  the  action  of  the  finished 
pens  perfect."  (Sinned)  FRANZ  VOGT, 

(H.  I.  KIMBALL.  Individual  Jtldtre. 

Approved--!        Pres't  Departmental  Committee. 
(JOHN  BOYfi  THACHER, 

Chairman  Exec.  Com.  on  Airards, 


CAE.D  PRINTER/7?flE 

hour.  YOU  can  make  1000(7  witl1  ll-  Afonto( 
BrtttT  type,  also  Indelible  Ink.  Type  Holder,  Pada 
£nd  XmeuM.  Best  Linen  Marker;  worth  fl.OO. 
Sample  resiled  FREE  for  lOc.  sUmp*  for  posl^e  on 

L-J    outfit  an.l  laree  catalogue  of  lOOu  Birp»in». 

R.H.  Ingersoll  &  Bro.  65  lortlandt  St.  N  .1.  City 

1069 


"Napoleon' 

Handsome, 

instructive 
One  of  the  nev 

Parker 
Game: 

For    Boys    an 
Girls. 


"Innocence 

Abroad, 
"  Waterloo," 
"Chivalry," 
"Yankee 

Doodle. 

ASK    FOR   THEH 


SPRUCE  GUM. 

miniature  Barrel  of  Pure  Spruce  Gum, 
by  mail,  10  cents. 

Fern  and  Wild-Flower  roots ;  Birch  hall; ;  Tree  fungi ; 
Evergreen  seedlings ;  Balsam  twigs  for  pillows,  etc. 
ADIRONDACK     FOREST     NOVEI/TY     CO.. 
K.I  IK    Valley,  New  York. 


Stamps, 


CT  fl  IWIDO  I  8»O  fine  irnaed  Victoria, Cape  of  G 
OlHIVIrO  !  H..  India.  Japan,  etc. .  with  fine  Stain] 
Album,  only  10c-.  New  8o-p.  1'rice  -  list  free 
stftnls  •na'iltJ  M  Ml  %  commission.  STANDAHI 
STAMP  CO.,  4  Nicliolsun  Place.  St.  I.onis,  Mo.  Oh 
U.  S.  and  Confederate  Stamps  bought. 

100  all  dif.  Venezuela, Bolivia, etc., only  lOc. 
jTffl  •Jiili1ilhm.Iliivli,Hawilii,etc.,only5uc.Ag't 
'"*  w't'flatBnperctcom.  List  FREEI  i:.  A 

Stegniann,fi941CoteBriliante,St.Loui8,Mo 


10c.  for  250  finely  assorted  foreigl 
stamps,  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  etc 


, 

Anv  "rude  "f  approval  sheets  sent  for  -rood  reference! 
I.AWRICNCE  TKOWBRIDGK,  Palmyra,  N.  * 

SEND  for  our  Approval  Sheets  at  50$  commission.     H 
STONEBRAKER  &  Co.,  192"  Eutaw  Place,  Balto.,  Me 


Comto  return  envelopes.     Bleiebt  of  Htnd  exposed. 

List  of  6"!  gift..    Album  of  cards     Send  Zo  stamp 

I  lor  po«BSo.  Addicsj  flannel  Canl  Co.,  C»dU,  Oluo. 


[('afflicted  with 

SORE  EYK 


HARPER'S  NEW  CATALOGUE, 

Thoroughly  revised,  classified,  and  indexed,  will  be  sei 
by  mail  to  any  address  on  receipt  of  ten  cents. 


I  he  Game  of  the  Ring. 

T''is  game  is  well  worth  trying,  even  if  it  was 
nown  to  France  in  Die  eighteenth  century  T.. 
,lav  this  game  there  must  be  no  more  than  nine  in 
be  company.  State  that  while  you  are  absent 
rom  the  room  one  of  the  company  must  slip  a.  ring 
,n  any  joint  of  any  finger  he  may  choose  Also 
iutnbereachp'-i-"  »s  1,2. 3,  etc.;  the  right hand  1, 
he  left  2  the  thumb  i;  index  finger  2,  second  finger 
,,etc.;  the  first  joint  of  each  finger-that  is,  at  the 
•xtremity— 1,  the  second  2,  and  the  third  3. 
For  example:  suppose  that  the  fifth  person  has 
be  riii"  concealed  on  the  first  joint  of  the  fourth 
inger  of  the  left  hand.  To  solve  the  problem  it  is 
,ecessary  to  discover  the  numbers  5,  8,4, 1,  which 
s  done  as  follows.  Ask  some  one  to  double  the 
irst  number,  or  that  of  the  person  (which  will  give 
0)  and  to  subtract  1 ;  ask  him  to  multiply  the  re- 
nainder  (9)  by  5  (giving  45);  next,  to  add  the  rium- 
>er  (8)  and  then  5  (which  will  make  58).  Ask  him  to 
louble  this  number  (giving  104),  and  to  subtract  I 
leaving  103);  to  multiply  this  remainder  by  5  (giving 
>15)  and  to  add  to  this  product  the  third  number 
41  Y,r  that  standing  for  the  finger  (which  will  give 
119)  Next  ask  him  to  add  5  (giving  534),  and  from 
he  double  of  the  sum  11048)  to  subtract  1;  to  mul- 
:iply  this  remainder  by  5  (giving  5235),  and  to  add 
;o  this  1,  standing  for  the  joint.  In  the  last  place, 
isk  him  to  again  add  5.  equalling  5841.  The  figures 
af  this  number  will  indicate,  in  order,  the  number 
expressing  the  person  who  holds  the  ring,  and  the 
band  finger,  and  the  joint  on  which  it  was  placed. 
With  a  little  practice  you  will  be  able  to  success- 
fully  gull  your  audience,  having  first  given  each 
person  a  pencil  and  paper  wherewith  to  make  the 
calculations.  YINCKNT  V  M.  BEEDE,  R.T.F 

*  *  * 

A  Prize-Puzzle  Story. 

When  I  was  going  to  St.  Ives,  you  know  about 
my  meeting  with  that  man  who  had  seven  wives. 
Well,  the  man.  wives,  sacks,  cats,  kits,  and  the  rest 
were' coming  from  St.  I ves, and, being  interested,! 
sat  down  by  the  road-side  and  asked  the  party 
about  their  journey  thither.  And  this  is  what  the 
man  told  me  : 

"It's  a  roundabout  journey,  tins  one  from  M 
Ives  and  queer  things  are  to  be  seen  on  t.be  way. 
Why,  we  came  through  a  county  in  North  Caro- 
lina (1)  where  nobody  ever  slept,  and  we  saw  on  a 
sign-board  this : 

••  'Be  cordial  to  all  your  fellow-beings.  Just  cor- 
dial, and  no  more.  Before  counting  them  as  friends, 
be  sure  you  can  trust  them,  and  are  certain  of  their 
true  and  generous  confidence.' 

Notice.— Take  every  ninety -ninth  word  in  the 
foregoing,  arrange  them  in  the  order  in  which  they 
are  written,  and  you  will  have  a  good  maxim  (3). 

"We  crossed  a  lake  in  Michigan  (3)  that  belongs 
to  a  drum  corps ;  a  river  of  Spain  (4)  that  school- 
children play  on  astride  a  fence  ;  a  river  of  France 
15)  that  ought  to  be  a  prison  ;  through  a  county  in 
Scotland  (6)  that,  bald-headed  people  should  go  to; 
and  through  another  county  in  Illinois  (?)  that  one 
could  use  to  furnish  his  bouse  with. 

"  We  saw  an  island  of  Greece  (8)  that  would  not 
hold  water,  and  a  lake  in  Minnesota  (9)  that  would 
not  either,  but  you  could  play  tennis  with  the  lat- 
ter Beside  a  lake  in  Scotland  (10)  that  is  always 
the  latest  style,  we  saw  another  sign  board  bearing 
this: 

•"I  will  not  go  there.    I  don't  care  where  i 
If  he  asks  me.  I'll  say  no     He  is  like  a  child  in  re- 
gard to  wisdom.     Why,  I  never  heard  of  the  like  1 
But  I'll  say  no  with  perfect  frankness.' 

Notice  —Certain  words  in  this  sign  form  an  old 
adage  (11). 

"A  river  in  Russia  (12)  that  is  always  all  right 
was  so  high  w  had  to  be  ferried  across,  and  the 
boatman  told  us  this  : 

"'A  well  known,  useful  guide  am  I; 

1  am  both  far  and  near; 
I  travel  fast,  slow,  up,  and  down. 

To  naught  <!<>  I  ailli'-n-. 
I'm  daily  sought,  by  rich  and  poor. 

My  home's  ii'iih  low  and  high; 
I'm  sometimes  seen,  and  yet  unseen, 

Somi'tinifs  in  depths  I  lie' (13). 
•-  Not  lining  an  island  of  Michigan  (14)  I  was  not 
taken  in  bv  his  tali-,  »nd  guessed  the  answer  quick- 
er than  river  in  Australia  (15)  believe  I  could— with 
so  many  wives,  ami  river  "f  Cuba  (16)  children, not 
one  of  whom  is  an  inland  off  the  Mexican  coast  (17). 


HARPER'S    ROUND    TABLE 

One  of  my  wives  indulged  in  a  game  of  island  off 
the  '  'uban  coast  (18).  She  lost  heavily,  and  when  I 
i-hidfd  her  she  was  as  short  as  pie  crust  made  with 
hike  in  Iowa  (19),  and  she  shut  me  up  like  a  moun- 
tain in  Utah  (20). 

••  This  last  happened  only  yesterday.  1  tell  you, 
if  the  road  to  St.  Ives  is  as  bad  as  that  from  there, 
you  have  no  envious  journey  My  wives  have  fall- 
en to  quarrelling.  I  see  one  river  of  Tennessee  (8 
another^  I  must  box  their  ears  with  the  island  of 
Australia  (88)  of  my  hand.  Good-day,  sir." 

As  I  resumed  my  journey  to  St.  Ives  I  earlyVound 
the  prediction  of  the  man  of  seven  wives  true. 
Here  is  a  sample  of  one  of  the  guide-board  signs : 

"I  once  was  seen  in  water,  but  by  substituting 
one  verb  for  another  I  am  now  beheld  on  land  "(23). 

Do  you  wonder  I  never  reached  St.  Ives? 


In  this  story  are  four  riddles  and  nineteen  geo- 
graphical names.  Clews  to  the  former  are  given, 
and  the  latter  are  described  in  the  text,  the  catch 
being  in  the  double  meaning  of  the  geographical 
name.  Four  prizes  are  offered  for  best  solutions : 
$10  to  the  first,  and  $15  divided  according  to  merit 
among  the  next  ten.  Put  your  name,  address,  and 
age  at  the  top  of  the  sheet,  and  write  the  answers, 
one  below  another,  numbering  each.  Post  solution 
not  later  than  December  2, 1895.  Address  HAIIPER'S 
ROUND  TABLE,  New  York.  Only  persons  may  send 
answers  who  have  not  passed  their  eighteenth 
birthday,  but  grown  persons  may  help  you  find 
answers.  Names  of  prize-winners,  with  correct 
answers,  will  be  published  in  HAUPEII'S  ROUND 
TABLE  for  December  31, 1895. 


Answers  to  Kinks. 

No.  106 

1  Poppy.     2.   Mayflower.     3.   Boneset.    4.    But- 
ter-and -eggs.    5.  Cardinal -flower.    6,  Milkweed. 
7    Sweet-william.     8.  Jack-in-the-Pnlpit..    9.  Deer 
Grass  (dear  grass).    10.  Marigold  (marry  gold)     11. 
Skull-cap     12.  Lady's-tresses.    13.  Dandelion  (dan- 
dy lion)     14.  Black-eyed  Susan.    15.  Ragged  sailor. 
16    Wandering -jew.     17.   Mint.     18.  Dutchman'8- 
breeches.      19     Pennyroyal.      20     Shamrock      81. 
Bachelor's-buttons.    22.  Tulips  (two  lips).    S3.  Hon- 
eysuckle     84.  Foxglove.     85.  Lady's-slipper.     26. 
Rose  (rows).    27.  Pickerel-weed.    28  Phlox  (flocks). 
29.  Arrow-bead.  GUACE  V.  BEDrNQEit. 

2  FORRESTER  STREET,  SALEM.  MABS. 


Fruits  in  Old  Jamaica. 

Wild  strawberries,  just  like  those  at  home,  grow 
on  the  mountains  in  Jamaica,  about  6000  feet  up, 
and  ripen  in  June.  Apples,  small  and  green,  but 
making  good  sauce,  are  brought  from  the  same 
height,  and  are  ready  in  July  and  August.  Some 
few  peaches  are  grown  up  there  also,  and  ripen  in 
June  or  July.  Grapes  vary  in  season,  according  to 
the  elevation  at  which  they  are  grown;  they  be- 
gin to  be  in  market  in  July,  coming  from  the  low- 

'  Pineapples  begin  about  the  end  of  April,  but 
June  is  the  best  month  for  them.  They  are  most 
delicious  here,  as  they  are  thoroughly  ripe  and  soft. 
Bananas  and  plantains  (a  large  variety  of  banana 
eaten  only  when  cooked)  are  ripe  all  the  year 
round.  The  early  oranges  come  in  June,  but  are 
not  really  in  season  until  October,  December  be- 
ing the  best  month  for  them.  They  last  until 
about  March.  Limes  are  in  season  all  the  year 
round,  some  trees  being  ready  at  one  time,  some 
at  another.  Melons  are  very  poor  here,  very  small, 
and  of  poor  flavor,  as  they  have  no  good  seed  ap- 
parently. They  ripen  in  spring  and  summer  Bil- 
berries ripen  from  June  till  October ;  and  wild  but 
poor  blackberries  also.  Both  these  berries  grow 
on  the  mountains  from  2000  feet  up. 

Of  tropical  fruits  the  variety  is  endless ;  some  are 
good,  others  we  do  not  care  for.  Avocado  pears 
or  alligator  pears  are  pear-shaped,  but  look  more 
like  green  and  brown  fresh  figs.  The  skin  is  peeled 
off.  and  the  pulp,  which  is  green  next  the  skin  and 
custard-color  near  the  seed,  is  about  like  baked 
custard  in  looks,  and  is  eaten  as  a  salad.  The  seed 
i<  very  large,  and  confined  in  a  loose  outer  husk. 
These  are  ripe  now,  and  continue  a  long  time  in 
season. 

1070 


Genips  or  hog  plums  are  round  green  balls  about 
the  size  of  a  large  plum.  The  skin  is  hard,  but 
cracks  easily  and  slips  off,  leaving  the  pulp,  which 
is  like  a  grape's, and  tastes  a  little  like  one.  The 
flesh  sticks  fast  to  the  seed,  and  you  can  only  suck 
them,  which  is  very  tantalizing— but  the  tree  holds 
thousands.  Rose  apples  are  very  pretty,  light  yel- 
low, smelling  like  at  tar  of  roses,  and  taste  the  same, 
and  are  insipid  when  raw,  but  delicious  crystal- 
lized. They  ripen  in  June.  Granadillas  are  some- 
thing like  melons;  they  grow  on  a  passion-flower 
vine,  and  ripen  at  different  times.  The  pulp  is 
sweet  but  rather  tasteless,  but  combined  with  the 
seeds  which  are  enclosed  it  is  good  in  a  tart  jelly. 
Star  apples  are  so  called  because  when  cut  in  two 
the  seed  division  forms  a  five-pointed  star.  They 
are  sweet,  and  ripen  in  spring. 

Naseberries  are  dark  brown  inside  and  out.  about 
the  size  of  a  small  peach,  and  with  a  rough  skin. 
The  flesh  is  good,  but  sandy  feeling  to  the  mouth. 
Gold  apples  are  brilliant  yellow;  white  pulp  and 
black  seeds  surrounded  with  jelly.  Seeds  and  all 
are  eaten.  Water  cocoanuts  are  the  green  nuts 
before  the  meat  is  formed  inside.  They  are  as 
large  as  a  man's  head  with  the  husk,  and  you  cut 
the  top  off  with  a  machete,  and  drink  the  delicious 
water,  cool  and  sweet.  Sour  and  sweet  sops  and 
custard -apples  are  all  more  or  less  alike— sweetish 
and  rather  flat.  Some  like  them. 

FIIBD  L.  HAWTHOUNE. 

GARDEN  HOUSE,  KINGSTON,  JAMAICA. 

An  excellent  morsel.    The  Table  thanks  Sir  Fred. 


A  Visit  to  a  Marble-Mill. 

Perhaps  the  Table  will  be  interested  in  the  ac- 
count of  a  visit  1  made  to  a  large  marble-mill. 
The  block  of  marble,  rough  but  regular,  being  in 
position  the  cutiing  begins.  The  saws,  which  are 
lowered  everyday  to  cut  just  so  much  on  the  block, 
are  held  in  a  big  wooden  frame  hung  above  the 
marble  These  saws  swing  back  and  forth  across 
the  block,  gradually  cutting  into  it.  A  2^-inch  pipe 
above  the  saws  pours  a  continual  stream  of  sand 
and  water  over  the  block. 

The  saws  are  kept  going  night  and  day.  yet  re- 
quiring a  week  to  saw  a  block  6  by  6  by  5  feet.  The 
saws  ate  strips  of  steel  about  3  inches  wide  and  18 
feet  long,  and  do  not  cut  more  than  15  inches  a  day. 
The  blocks  n-uallyare  sawed  into  slabs  8  inches  by 
6  feet  by  5.  or  blocks  1  by  1  by  5  feet.  When  the 
sawing  has  been  completed  stone-cutters  trim  and 
prepare  the  marble  for  shipment.  An  interesting 
thing  I  saw  was  the  marble  for  a  pavilion  in  the 
Woman's  Exhibit  at  the  Atlanta  Exposition.  Col- 
umns, caps,  and  bases  were  being  prepared.. 

The  columns  are  first  sawed  out  in  blocks  about 
1  by  1  by  7  feet.  Then  they  are  turned  on  a  lathe 
until  they  are  perfect  though  rough  cylinders. 
These  are  polished,  first  by  rubbing  sand  over  them 
to  take  off  the  saw  and  lathe  scratches,  and  then 
with  three  different  kinds  of  grit.  After  this  they 
are  rubbed  with  a  hone  perfectly  void  of  grit,  and 
polished  with  acid.  The  caps  and  bases  are  pre- 
pared in  the  same  way,  excepting  that  the  blocks 
are  of  a  different  size  (almost  square,  in  fact),  and 
that  they  are  turned  into  their  respective  shapes. 
This  mill  is  owned  by  the  Tennessee  Producers' 
Marble  Company.  The  marble  quarries  of  Tennes- 
see are  the  finest  in  the  United  States. 

KNOXVILLH,  TENNESSEE.          JAMES  MATNAKD,  R.T-K. 


Maut  Corner. 

Harold  P.  Daniels,  73  East  187th  Street.  New  York, 
collects  beetles,  and  wants  to  hear  from  others  in 
the  United  States  and  Canada  who  do  the  same. 
M.  S.  Newman,  722  East  Ninth,  New  York,  wants  to 
receive  sample  copies  of  amateur  papers.  Jessie 
Loomis  and  Mabel  Moreland,  Box  156,  Creston, 
Iowa,  publish  Our  Own  Idea,  an  amateur  paper  of 
much  merit,  and  they  want  to  exchange  with  other 
amateur  publishers. 

Wallace  Gibbs,  Galva,  III.,  publishes  The  Sunbeam, 
a  neat,  eight-page  monibly.  lie  offers  to  send  us  a 
morsel  on  the  experiences  of  an  amateur  publisher, 
if  we  want  it  We  want  it,  Sir  Wallace.  Send  it 
along.  Tell  us  the  discouragements,  the  plea-urc. 
an. I  the  advantages.  R.  L.  Miller,  Jun.,  asks  if  an 
autograph  of  President  Diaz  is  wanted  by  the 
Table.  Yes,  it  is.  Can  you  favor  us  with  one? 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


THE   HALLOWEEN  WITCH  KS 

BY   MAMIE   A.  DBNTON. 

MILDRED  and  Naomi  Dean  sat  at  op- 
posite sides  of  a  large  room  ;  Naomi 
with  her  lingers  in  her  cars,  and  her  elbows 
vest  in};  upon  her  knees,  \\  liile  Mildred  gazed 
out  nf  tlie  window  with  dreamy  eyes.  The 
two  girls  weve  in  search  of  ideas  for  a  Hal- 
loween party  :  they  wen-  t  w  in  witches,  born 
on  witches'  night,  or  Halloween,  and  had 
given  regulation  Halloween  parties  since 
their  babyhood.  Now  they  wanted  a  change, 
and  after  eagerly  vending  everything  on  the 
subject  that  came  within  their  reach,  they 
had  finally  decided  to  "  think  something 
imt  "  themselves. 

"It's  nn  use,"  Mildred  exclaimed,  sudden- 
ly. "I  can't  think  of  a  single  tiling  except 
that  we  must  have  a  party.  Aren't  you  blest 
with  an  idea  yet,  Naomi  f"  she  shouted. 

Naomi  turned  slowly,  taking  her  fingers 
from  her  ears.  "Yes, I  believe  I  am,  but  I 
don't  know  how  yon  will  like  it.  Why  can't 
we  have  the  girls  all  come  dressed  as  witches, 
and  then  we  can  give  a  prize  to  the  most  !»•- 
witching  .'" 

•'The  very  thing,  you  dear  little  conjurer. 
That  idea  is  worth  elaborating,  ami  yon 
know  1  just  exist  to  elaborate  your  ideas. 
Now  wait  till  I  finish  my  part." 

Mildred  ran  to  her  desk,  and  was  soon 
deep  in  its  mysteries — wonderful  things  had 
been  known  to  come  from  this  desk.  When 
she  finally  arose  she  handed  Naomi  two  neat 
invitations,  one  of  which  read  : 

Miss  NIXA  PIM-SCOTT, — You  are  cordially 
invited  to  attend  a  witches'  party  on  the 
night  of  the  thirty-first.  Each  lady  is  ex- 
pi-eii-d  to  represent  a  witch.  A  prize  will 
be  given  to  the  ugliest,  and  a  ''booby'' 
prize  to  the  most  attractive  witch. 

Two  WEIKD  SISTEHS  OF  HALLOWEEN. 
(Mildred  and  Naomi  Dean.) 

nil. 


"  Oh, "said  Naomi,  when  she  had  read  the 
invitation,  "  it  is  too  bad  not  to  give  the 
prize  to  the  most  attractive  witch.'' 

"No,"  replied  Mildred;  "  witches  are  sup- 
posed to  be  ugly,  and  I  think  the  one  who 
wears  the  finest  costume  should  pay  theprice 
of  her  own  vanity.  Now  read  the  other  in- 
vitation." 

Naomi  read  it  slowly  aloud  : 

Mit.  ROY  PHESCOTT, — You  are  requested  to 
art  as  one  of  tlm  judges  at  a  witches'  con- 
test oil  the  night  of  the  thirty-first,  at  the 
home  of  the  Two  WEIRD  SISTEUS, 

(Mildred  and  Naomi  Dean.) 

••  What  do  you  think  of  my  specimens?" 
asked  Mildred. 

"I  think  they  are  very  brilliant  elabor- 
ations," Naomi  answered  ;  "  but  I  must  see 
Nina,  and  caution  her  not  to  tell  her  brother 
v\  hat  she  is  going  to  wear.  Yes.  I  am  glad 
that  none  of  the  rest  are  brothers  and  sis- 
tei-B." 

On  the  night  of  the  thirty-first  the  home 
ol  t  ho  Deans  was  brilliantly  lighted,  and 
the  grounds  were  full  of  weird  lights  and 
mysterious  music.  The  hoys  were  the  first 
to  arrive,  and  \Vere  ushered  into  the  front 


IVORY  5  GAP 


Those  who  think  that  imported  soaps  must  be  the  finest,  do  not 
know  that  the  materials  for  Ivory  Soap  are  the  best  to.be  found  any- 
where. The  vegetable  oil  of  which  Ivory  Soap  is  made,  is  imported, 
almost  in  ship  loads,  from  the  other  side  of  the  world. 


THE  PROCTER  It  GAMBLE  Co.    CiN'Tt 


GRATEFUL-COMFORTING. 

EPPS'S  COCOA. 

BREAKFAST-SUPPER. 

"  By  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  natural  laws  which 
govern  the  operations  of  digestion  and  nutrition,  and  by 
acareful  application  of  the  tine  properties  of  well-selected 
Cocoa,  Mr.  Epps  has  provided  for  our  breakfast  and 
supper  a  delicately  flavored  beverage  which  may  save  us 
many  heavy  doctors'  bills.  It  is  by  the  judicious  use  of 
I  such  articles  of  diet  that  a  constitution  may  be  gradually 
built  up  until  strong  enough  to  resist  even'  tendency  to 
disease.  Hundreds  of  subtle  maladies  are  floating  around 
us  ready  to  attack  wherever  there  is  a  weak  point.  We 
may  escape  many  a  fatal  shaft  by  keeping  ourselves 
well  fortified  with  pure  blood  and  a  properly  nourished 
frame." — Civil  Service  Gazette. 

Made  simply  with  boiling  water  or  milk.     Sold  only 
in  half-pound  tins,  by  Grocers,  labelled  thus  : 

JAMES  EPPS  &  CO.,  Ltd., 
Homoeopathic  Chemists,  London,  England. 


's  PEIIIDIULS. 


Per   Year: 

HAKPEU'S   MAGAZINE  ..........  PaMarje  Fur,  ft  0(1 

HARPER'S  WERKI.Y   ........... 

HARPER'S  BAZAR  .............. 

HARPER'S  ROUND  TABLE  ..... 


4  00 
2  00 


limik*rllerx  nii'l  rixtinaiiffri  main/In  rn-rife  tubsmp- 
linns.  Ktitmcriiitimis  *fnt  direct  to  the  publishers  should 
h,  , ::,ni'iiiiir<i  btl  Posl-nfi,-f  Motley  Order  or  Draft. 


HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  New  York,  N.Y. 


parlor,  where  they  were  commanded  to  stay 
until  invited  to  eonie  out.  The  girls  were 
shown  up  stairs  ton  room  where  a  card  with 
a  large  white  niinilier  upon  it  was  pinned 
to  each  co.sinnie.  When  the  boys  were  ad- 
initted  to  the  hack  parlor  the  witches  were 
drawn  up  in  line  with  masks  on,  and  num- 
bers conspicuously  displayed.  The  two 
weird  sisters,  unmasked,  and  making  no  at- 
tempt to  conceal  their  identity,  passed  slips 
of  paper  to  each  gentleman,  and  explained 
that  he  must  write  the  number  of  the  one 
who  most  nearly  represented  his  idea  of  a 
witch,  and  also  the  number  of  her  whom  he 
considered  the  most  attractive.  One  of  the, 
boys  complained  that  this  was  not  fair,  as 
they  were  not  allowed  to  see  the  faces. 
When  the  votes  were  counted,  and  the  prizes 
awarded, the  signal  was  given,  and  the  masks 
were  dropped,  amid  much  surprise,  laughter, 
and  applause. 

The  young  lady  who  received  the  prize  as 
the  ugliest  witch  proved  to  be  one  of  the 
most  charming  when  unmasked,  and  the 
"booby"  was  a  perfect  vision  of  loveliness 
in  a  long  red  cloak  and  steeple-crowned  hat. 
She  surveyed  her  pivtty  face  complacently 
in  the  hand-mirror  which  was  given  as  the 
"  booby  "  prize. 

An  impromptu  programme  was  rendered, 
in  which  the  little  "booby"  recited  "The 
Elf  Child,"  the  "ugliest  witch  "and  the  "two 
weird  sisters"  gave  the  witch  scene  from 
.Miidii-lli,  and  several  weird  songs  were  snug 
by  different  members  of  the  company.  The 
rest  of  the  evening  was  given  up  to  fortune- 
telling,  witchcraft,  and  charms.  The  young 
people  voted  the  party  a  "grand  success," 
and  the  two  weird  sisters  the  most  bewitch- 
ing of  all  the  witches. 

1071 


collectors,  and  the  E'lili-r  will  lie  j.lea^ed  to  ansner  any  question  on 
these  subjects  ->i  !"-ir  in  pns*ilplH.  Correspondents  ahoutd  address  Editor 
Stamp  Department. 

HOW  MANY  OF  US  KNOW  where  Ipswich, 
England,  is  ?  An  exhibition  of  stamps 
has  just  been  opened  there  which  must  be 
fine,  as  English  collectors  value  the  stamps 
exhibited  at  over  $100,000.  A  few  years 
ago  the  New  York  collectors  made  au  ex- 
hibit at  the  Eden  Musee  on  Twenty-third 
Street,  which  probably  called  the  attention 
of  thousands  to  the  "old  postage-stamp 
craze,"  ami  led  to  the  making  of  hundreds  of 
ne\\  iceriiits  in  this  absorbing  hobby.  Per- 
haps the  same  collectors  may  make,  another 
exhibit  If  they  obtain  the  assistance  of 
s e  of  the  New  England  collectors  the  ex- 
hibit would  be  one  of  the  finest  ever  seen. 
One  gentleman  in  Maine  has  a  collection 
valued  at  over  $200,000,  consisting  chiefly  of 
the  great  rarities. 

A.  T.  D  —A  surcharged  stamp  is  one  which  has  had 
a  new  value  or  somi'  inscription  printed  on  the  faceof 
the  stamp.  As  a  rule  siamps  of  a  high  value  are  sur- 
chnrgerl  with  a  lower  value.  For  instance,  Ceyfon,  in 
Issfi,  surcharged  the  16,  24,  36,  48,  and  64  cents  anil 
nilier  stamps"  Five  Cents."  These  surcharged  stamps 
were  then  jr"oil  for  five  cents  only.  Provisional 
stamps  .in-  i  hose  which  are  issued  in  an  emergency, 
anil  usually  are  surcharged  stamps. 

II.  II.  r.  The  coin  dealers  ask  $3  each  for  the  com- 
monest dates  ol  the  i|iiarler-eaL'le  U.S.  The  scarce 
dates  are  wunli  niiit-li  more.  Yon  do  not  give  the 
date  nt  youi  coin 

PHILATOS. 


HAKPEE'S   ROUND   TABLE 


TWO    GLANCES    FROM    THE    ELEVATED    RAILROAD. 


AT  FIRST  GT.ANOK  OUR  1IKA  UTS  AOUK1> 
TO  8KB  6UOH  A  8WBICT  L1TTLK  GIRL  SO 
TfiRBIULY  AFrl.IOTKU;  BUT 


A   QUESTION. 

WILLIE.  "Don't  the  little  Esquimau  boys  live  ou  oil?" 
MAMMA.  "Yes, Willie." 

WILLIE.  "And  do  they  always  have  a  big  lump  of  sugar 
after  it  for  dessert  ?" 


"  EARLY    ENGLISH." 

FKOM  wise  professors,  Brother  Ned, 

In  the  college  town, 
Was  learning  "early  English." 

My!  how  it  made  him  frowu ! 
While  baby  sister  Annie 

Cooed  at  home  in  glee, 
In  purest  early  English — 

'Twas  as  easy  as  could  be! 


SOME  Irishmen  are  naturally  stupid,  but  their  mistakes 
are  at  times  so  humorous  as  to  provoke  a  laugh,  which 
makes  one  forget  the  more  serious  part  of  the  error.  Re- 
cently a  son  of  Ireland  went  out  rowing  ou  a  lake  at  a 
famous  summer  resort.  A  stiff  northwest  wind  came  up, 
and  not  being  skilful  with  the  oars,  in  a  short  time  his  boat 
shipped  considerable  water. 

A  brilliaut  idea  then  seized  him,  and  taking  the  butt  end 
of  the  oar  he  battered  away  at  the  planks  in  the  bottom  of 
the  boat,  finally  knocking  a  hole  in  them.  Fortunately  for 
him  a  steam-launch  with  a  pleasure  party  aboard  came 
along  and  rescued  him  as  his  boat  sank.  Upon  being  asked 
why  on  earth  he  drove  a  hole  through  the  boat,  he  replied  : 

"An'  phwat  else  would  yez  do  ?  Sure  the  boat  was  half 
full  of  water,  an'  so  oi  knocked  a  hole  in  the  bottom  to  let 
it  out;  but,  yez  see,  there  was  so  much  more  water  in  the 
lake  that  the  little  bit  of  a  stream  in  my  boat  had  no 
chance  to  get  out." 


SOME  time  ago  I  read  a  little  anecdote  of  Longfellow 
which  illustrated  his  love  for  children.  It  seems  that  one 
little  fellow  in  particular  was  fond  of  spending  his  time  in 
the  great  poet's  library.  One  day,  after  a  long  and  patient 
perusal  of  the  titles  (to  him  great  cumbersome  works)  that 
lined  the  shelves, the  little  chap  walked  up  to  Longfellow, 
and  asked  in  a  grieved  sort  of  way,  "Haven't  you  got  a 
Jaclc  the  Giant  Killer  ?"  Longfellow  regretted  to  say  that 
in  all  his  immense  library  he  did  not  have  a  copy. 

The  little  chap  looked  at  him  in  a  pitying  way,  and  si- 
lently left  the  room. 

The  next  morning  he  walked  in  with  a  couple  of  pennies 
tightly  clasped  in  his  rlinbby  fist,  and  laying  them  down, 
told  the  poet  that  he  could  now  buy  a  Jack  the  Giant  Killer 
of  his  own. 


WE  hear  of  veterans 
who  have  survived  the 
wars  of  years  ago,  but  here 
is  a  poor  old  veteran  of 
the  civil  war,  and  it  is 
claimed  the  only  one  liv- 
ing of  his  kind.  His  name 
is  Ned,  and  he  was  cap- 
tnred  near  Washington  by 
a  scouting  party  from  Gen- 
eral Jubal  Early's  corps. 
For  years  Ned  has  taken 
part  in  the  different  me- 
morial events  and  parades 
of  the  G.A.R.  But  during  a 
recent  parade  in  Louisville 
his  declining  years  pre- 
vented his  marching  to  the 
stirring  music  of  the  bands. 
It  grieved  the  poor  old 
fellow's  heart  so  that,  as  a 
compromise,  his  comrades 
provided  him  with  a  float, 
upon  which  he  mounted, 
and  was  dragged  through 

the  streets,  his  kindly  old  head  nodding  to  the  time  of 
the  band.  As  yon  have  doubtless  guessed,  Ned  is  an  old 
war-horse,  and  it  is  said  he  has  missed  but  one  Decoration- 
day  parade,  and  has  reached  the  ripe  old  age  of  forty  years. 


A  SKOONP  GLANCE  RKVEAI.KI)  THE  RKAT.  OWNKIl  OF  TH  V.  FRET 
IN  THE  PKR8ON  OF  TI1K  FOND  PAPA,  WHO  WAS  THUS  SKOUR1NG 
A  FEW  MOMKNT8  TO  BEAU  HIB  PAPER. 


MOTHEI;  (to  Albert,  who  came  home  from  school  looking  very 
blue).  "Why,  you  appear  unhappy,  Albert.  Didn't  you  learn 
your  lessons  to-day  ?" 

ALBERT.  "Oh  yes,  I  learned  not  to  be  sassy!" 


LITTLE  Alice  heard  her  father  say  that  her  Cousin  Jack 
has  the  small-pox,  and  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  papa,  I  think  it's 
real  mean  of  Jack  not  to  send  me  any." 


PAPA.  "Jack,  what  are  you  crying  about?" 
JACK.  "The  conjurer  at  the  circus  to-day  took  five  pi- 
geons out  of  my  hat,  and  kept  them  for  himself." 


TOM.  "Papa,  I  want  a  bicycle." 

PAPA.  "  Well,  Tom,  and  what  will  you  furnish  towards 
getting  it  t" 

TOM  (thinking  deeply  a  moment).  "I'll  furnish  the  wind 
for  the  tires." 


KEPT  HIS  WORD. 

To  the  pranks  played  by  college  boys  there  seems  to  be 
no  end,  and  Professors  are  still  suffering  as  much  as  ever 
from  the  undergraduate  trick.  An  amusing  tale  comes 
from  Edinburgh,  in  this  connection. 

An  examiner  at  Edinburgh  University  had  made  himself 
obnoxious  by  warning  the  students  against  putting  their 
hats  on  his  desk.  The  university  in  the  Scottish  capital 
is  remarkable  for  a  scarcity  of  cloak  rooms,  and  in  the  ex- 
citement of  examinations  hats  are,  or  used  to  be,  iiuug 
down  anywhere. 

The  examiner  announced  one  day  that  if  he  ever  found 
another  hat  on  his  desk  he  would  rip  it  up.  The  next  day 
no  hats  were  laid  there  when  the  students  assembled. 
Presently,  however,  the  examiner  was  called  out  of  the 
room.  Then  some  naughty  undergraduate  slipped  from 
his  seat,  got  the  examiner's  own  hat,  and  placed  it  on 
his  desk.  When  the  examiner  re-entered  the  hall,  every 
eye  was  fixed  upon  him.  He  observed  the  hat,  and  a 
gleam  of  triumph  shot  across  his  face. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "I  told  you  what  would  happen 
if  this  occurred  again."  Then  he  took  his  penknife  from 
his  pocket,  opened  it,  and  blandly  cut  the  hat  in  pieces, 
amidst  prolonged  applause.  What  he  said  when  he  dis- 
covered that  he  had  destroyed  his  own  hat  the  story  does 
not  say. 


1072 


'SSS 


y/ 


HARPEKS 


ROUND  TABLE 


Copyright,  1895,  by  HARPKH  A   BROTHERS.     All  Rights  Reset-veil. 


,H 


fUBUSHED    WEEKLY. 
VOT,     XVI. — NO.  835. 


NEW  YORK.  TUESDAY.  OCTOBER  29,   1895. 


FIVE  CENTS  A  COPY. 
TWO   DOLLAH3    A    TEA  It. 


ENGLISH     ELIZA. 


A    HALLOWEEN    STORY. 


BY    HEZEKIAH     BUTTERWORTH. 


"  VTTHAT  was  it  that  Obed  saw  ?"     That  question  used 
V  I      to  be  asked  by  chimney-corners  in  the  great  farm- 
houses of  an  old   New   England  neighborhood  for  many 
years. 

For  Obed  iu  his  boyhood  on  a  certain  last  night  of  Octo- 
ber, "  when  the  moon  was  round,"  had  seen  a  spectacle  the 
account  of  which  tilled  the  minds  of  many  good  people,  with 
wonder  and  of  simple  people  with  terror.  Even  the  cats 
and  dogs  seemed  to  be  uneasy  when  it  was  discussed  in  an 
awesome  tone  of  voice  on  old  red  settles,  for  such  animals 
seem  to  share  the  fears  of  their  masters.  "  Come,  now, 
Obed  is  no  fool,"  the  work-people  used  to  say. 

"What  do  you  suppose  it  was  that  he  saw?  It  was 
proper  strange !" 


Obed  lived  in  one  of  the  farm  neighborhoods  near  Med- 
tield.a  town  famous  in  King  Philip's  war.  The  place  lias  a 
fearful  legend  of  a  family  who  were  killed  by  the  Indians, 
and  a  very  c'lirious  story  of  a  farmer  who  saved  his  family 
at  the  time  of  the  Indian  attack  by  rolling  out  of  the  cellar 
a  barrel  of  cider. 

It  is  a  quiet  town  to-day,  not  a  long  ride  from  Boston. 
It  would  delight  a  tired  man  nr  an  artist  ;  it  is  old-fasli- 
ioued  and  full  of  rural  beauty,  a  bit  of  old  New  England 
left  over,  as  it  were.  Great  elms  throw  their  cloudlike 
shadows  over  the  trim  and  well-kept  roads  iu  summer- 
time. The  churches,  the  homes,  the  farms  all  show  a  his- 
toric pride.  Here  great  orchards  once  bloomed  ;  here  the 
Baltimore  orioles  still  swing  in  the  elms,  and  the  bo  bo- 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


links  topple  in  the  clover  meadows.  Here  the  lilacs  still 
bloom  by  door-yard  walls,  and  tin-  people  draw  water  from 
tbc  round  stone  wells  of  the  generations  gone. 

( >ln'il  was  a  "  bound  boy,"  as  an  apprentice  lad  was  called, 
lie  was  "  bound  out,"  to  use  another  old  New  England  term, 
to  a  certain  Mr.  Miller,  who  was  a  farmer  and  a  cobbler.  This 
Mr.  Miller  was  named  Brister — Brister  Miller — a  surname 
riot  uncommon  in  colonial  times. 

A  bound  boy  was  one  who  was  "let  out"  by  his  parents 
or  guardian  or  the  "  selectmen  "  to  the  service  of  another 
fora  term  of  years;  really,  a  slave  fora  limited  time.  Bris- 
ter .Miller  had  in  his  family  a  bound  boy  and  a  bound  girl. 

The  girl's  name  was  Eliza.  She  had  come  to  Boston 
from  England.  Her  parents  had  died,  and  she  Lad  been 
found  a  home  on  Brister  Miller's  bowery  farm.  Bound  chil- 
dren and  buys  and  girls  worked  hard  in  the  old  times,  and 
had  but  few  privileges.  They  were  sometimes  allowed  to 
goto  the  "  General  Training,"  and  to  share  in  the  husking 
frolics,  and  they  were  always  permitted  to  listen  for  a  time 
after  "  early  candlelight"  to  the  stories  that  were  told  on 
old  red  settles  in  cool  weather  by  the  open  fires. 

As  Eliza  had  come  from  England  she  was  called  "Eng- 
lish Eliza."  She  was  a  good-hearted,  resolute  girl.  She  be- 
came a  great  friend  to  Obed,  whom  her  warm  heart  pitied, 
owing  to  her  own  bard  and  solitary  lot. 

It  was  the  last  day  of  October.  There  had  been  a  warm 
rain,  which  had  kept  Obed  and  English  Eliza  from  the 
husk  heap.  The  weather  had  suddenly  changed  towards 
evening.  A  chill  had  come  down  from  the  north,  and  the 
family  and  work-people  had  gathered  after  supper  around 
the  crackling  fire.  Mr.  Miller  sat  shelling  corn  with  a  cob, 
and  Mrs.  Miller  began  to  knit  by  the  tallow  caudle. 

The  work-people  told  stories.  These  stories  were  of  a 
strange  and  exciting  kind,  and  related  to  the  times  of  the 
Indian  war,  or  to  people  with  haunted  consciences  who 
thought  that  they  had  seen  ghosts.  Young  people  listened 
to  such  tab's  in  terror.  English  Eliza  had  never  heard 
these  tales  before  or  any  narratives  like  them.  She  saw 
that  the  ghost  stories  filled  Obed  with  fear,  and  she  pitied 
Lim. 

On  this  particular  night,  after  a  story  had  been  told  that 
made  Obed  sit  close  to  an  older  farm -hand,  Mrs.  Miller 
paused  in  her  work,  and,  lifting  her  brows,  said, 

"  There,  English  Eliza,  what  do  yon  think  of  such  (loin's 
as  that  .'" 

Eliza  looked  at  Obed,  and  his  fixed  eyes  and  white  tare 
nerved  her  to  make  a  very  honest  and  resolute  answer. 

"  I  don't  believe  in  ghosts,  inarm." 

"Why, Eliza  f" 

"Honest  people  never  see  Vm ;  if  they  think  they  do, 
they  find  them  out.  It  is  folks  with  haunted  consciences 
that  see  such  things,  inarm;  folks  with  .something  wrong, 
or  touched  in  mind,  inarm.  I  wouldn't  lie  afraid  to  go  right 
into  a  grave-yard  at  midnight.  Why  should  I!  I  never 
did  any  one  harm.  This  is  an  awful  night  to  some  folks  in 
England — those  who  fear  a  dealh  fetch  and  have  sins  on 
their  souls.  But  to  good  people  this  is  the  merriest  night 
of  all  the  year,  except  Christinas,  only.  It  is  Halloween, 
marm." 

What  was  the  girl  talking  about  ?  A  "  death  fetch,''  and 
merrymaking  and  "  Halloween." 

Mrs.  Miller  dropped  her  knitting-work  into  her  lap.  The 
cat,  who  seemed  to  feel  that  there  was  terror  in  the  air, 
leaped  into  the  knitting.  Mrs.  Miller  gave  the  poor  scared 
little  animal  a  slap,  and  then  looking  Eliza  straight  in  the 
facr. said. 

"'Li/a,  do  you  speak  true?  Remember, 'Liza,  that  you 
are  a  bound  -nl." 

"Never  a  word  in  jest,  inarm.  My  folks  were  Lonest  peo- 
ple, marm,  and  1  an  honest  girl." 

"'Li/a,  what  is  that  awful  thing  that  you  told  about — 
thai  death  feu-hf" 

"I  hi  Halloween  a  person  goes  into  tlie  church  and  says 
a  pra\er.  and  when  lie  conies  out  into  the  church-yard  lie 
sees  all  the'  people  who  are  going  to  die  during  the  year. 
An  old  sexton  did  it.  and  he  saw  himself,  marm.  A  death 
fetch  is  a  warning,  marm.  There  is  no  truth  in  such  stories. 
marm;  my  mother  taught  me  never  to  believe 'em,  marm, 


and  she  was  an  honest,  Christian  woman,  inarm,  and  she 
used  to  say  that  a  person  who  always  did  right  had  no- 
thing to  fear.  I  would  believe  my  mother's  word  against 
the  world,  marm.  She  died  iu  peace,  inarm,  and  I  want  to 
be  just  like  her.1' 

';  'Liza,  what  is  Halloween  ?" 

Brister  Miller  stopped  shelling  corn.  The  company  on 
the  settle  snuggled  up  close  to  each  other,  and  the  poor  cat 
nlleied  a  faint  little  "  meow,"  and  received  another  slap 
from  her  mistress,  which  seemed  to  be  comfort. 

"Ghost  night, marm.  The  night  when  good  spirits  visit 
their  friends,  inarm.  It  is  All-Hallow  eve — the  eve  of  All 
Saints'  day." 

'"Liza,  remember  that  you  are  a  bound  girl." 

"  I  never  forget  it,  marm." 

"  Now,  tell  the  truth.     What  do  they  do  on  Halloween  ?" 

"They  put  apples  into  deep  tubs  full  of  water, and  bob 
for  them  with  their  heads, marm;  and  they  puts 'em  also 
on  sticks  like  a  wheel,  and  bangs  the  wheel  from  the  ceil- 
ing, with  a  burning  tallow  candle  on  one  side  of  the  wheel, 
and  you  catch  an  apple  iu  your  mouth  as  the  wheel  turns, 
ma  mi.  or  else  get  smutched  with  the  candle,  marm,  which  is 
more  likely,  and  then  you  gets  laughed  at,  marm.  And  you 
pare  apples,  and  throw  the  paring  over  your  right  shoul- 
der, and  it  makes  the  first  letter  of  the  name  of  the  man 
that  you  are  to  marry,  marm." 

Mrs.  Miller  lifted  her  bands. 

"And  you  eat  an  apple  before  a  looking-glass,  holding  a 
candle  in  your  left  hand,  and  the  one  you  are  to  marry 
comes  and  looks  over  your  shoulder  into  the  glass,  marm. 
And  they  tell  you  to  find  fern-seed,  and  you  will  become 
rich,  marm.  But  there  ain't  any  fern-seed  to  be  found, 
marm.  And  they  do  lots  of  things." 

"'Li/a,  what  do  the  saints  Lave  to  do  with  such  doiu's 
as  these  ?" 

"They  like  to  see  young  folks  enjoy  themselves,  I  ex- 
pects, marm." 

"  It  is  the  ghost  of  the  living  that  seem  to  come,  'Liza." 

"All  the  more  interesting,  marm." 

"Oh, 'Liza!  'Liza!  such  things  bode  no  good!  Mercy! 
what  \\  as  Unit .'" 

There  came  a  succession  of  loud  raps  on  the  door. 

"I  hope  that  Halloween  is  not  coming  here,"  said  Mrs. 
Miller. 

The  door  suddenly  opened  with  a  gust  of  wind.  A  tall 
girl  appeared  out  of  breath,  and  said,  "Please,  Mrs.  Miller, 
Sirs.  Hopgood's  very  sick.  Ma  wants  to  know  if  you'll  let 
Obed  go  for  the  doctor  ?" 

••  Yes,  yes,  yes.  Obed,  you  put  the  horse  into  the  wagon. 
and  go  !" 

"Yes,"  echoed  Mr.  Miller.     "Obed,  you  go!" 

Obed's  face  was  tilled  with  pain  and  terror.  English 
Eliza  saw  the  expression,  and  she  understood  it.  Obed 
stood  up,  but  did  not  move. 

"  Why  don't  you  go  ?"  said  Mr.  Miller,  severely. 

"It  is  that  night!" 

"  What  f" 

"  Halloween,"  he  added.  "  And  I'll  have  to  go  by  the 
way  of  the  grave-yard." 

English  Eliza's  heart,  was  full.  "I'm  sorry  I  said  these 
searry  things,  marm.  Let  me  go  with  him,  marm.  I  ain't 
afraid  of  anything,  marm,  and  I  do  not  wonder  (hat  Obed 
is  afraid  after  such  stories  as  they  tell  in  this  new  country, 
marm." 

"  Yes,  'Liza,  you  may  go.     I  can  trust  you  anywhere." 

Obed's  cords  seemed  to  unloose,  and  his  feet  flew.  In  a 
few  minutes  Obed  and  English  Eliza  were  mounted  on  the 
carriage  seat,  and  were'  soon  speeding  away  towards  the 
doctor's,  which  was  in  the  centre  of  the  town. 

"Now,  Obed,  you  shall  keep  Halloween.  Young  people 
iu  England  sometimes  ride  on  this  night  by  lonely  places 
just  to  test  their  courage.  Obed,  I  believe  that  you  Lave  only 
one'  fault,  and  that  is  what  my  poor  mother  would  have 
called  superstitious  fear.  I  think  it  is  wrong  to  tell  such 
stories  to  children  as  they  have  told  yon  in  this  country. 
It  will  unman  yon." 

It  was  a  still  cool  night.  The  wind  after  a  changing 
day  had  gone  down.  The  moon  hung  high  iu  the  heavens, 


1074 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


now  ami  then  shadowed  by  a  fragment  of  a  broken  cloud. 
The  road  was  tilled  with  fallen  leaves,  which  deadened  the 
sound  of  the  wheels.  The  walnut-trees  with  their  falling 
nuts  sent  forth  a  pleasant  odor,  and  there  was  a  cidery 
smell  about  the  old  orchards  that  here  and  there  lined  the 
way.  They  emerged  at  last  from  a  wood,  and  came  into 
full  view  of  the  old  country  grave-yard  on  the  hill -side, 
when  something  really  surprising  met  their  view. 

Obed  dropped  the  reins,  and  Eliza  caught  them.  His 
kuees  began  to  shake,  and  he  chattered,  "  Prophets  arid 
apostles !" 

The  horse  trotted  ou. 

"Whoa!     What  is  that?" 

"  I  i<>  lung !"  said  English  Eliza,  in  a  firm  voice. 

"T.uru  round — quick, "said  Obed. 

"  I  can't,  Obed  ;  the  road  is  too  narrow.  And  I  am  on 
an  errand  of  duty  to  a  sick  woman,  and  I  will  not  do  it." 

"Eliza, it  is  awful.  I  shall  go  mad  if  you  go  on.  My 
brain  is  turning  now." 

The  sight  indeed  was  a  wonder.  As  it  appeared  from 
the  road  under  the  hill,  a  white  horse  arose  from  the  grave- 
yard on  the  bill-side,  and  stood  on  his  hiud  legs  with  his 
forefeet  in  the  air. 

"  He  is  pawing  the  sky,"  said  Obed ;  "  never  did  any  mor- 
tal man  see  a  sight  like  that.  He  is  climbing  a  shadow.  I 
shall  go  crazy.  Whoa!" 

Eliza  shook  the  reins,  and  said,  firmly,  "  Go  along!" 

"Eliza,  it  must  be  that  Halloween.  My  nerves  are  all 
shakeu  up.  I've  heard  of  white  horses  before.  I  tell  you, 
stop !  We'll  get  out  of  the  back  of  the  wagon,  and  run 
home." 

"Never!"  said  Eliza. 

"  Well,  I  am  going,  anyway."  Obed  leaped  from  the 
wagon,  exclaiming,  "  I'll  give  the  alarm  !" 

"I  am  going  for  the  doctor,"  said  Eliza. 

Obed  flew.  It  was  indeed  a  fearful  tale  that  he  had  to 
tell  when  he  reached  the  farm-house.  We  think  that 
there  seldom  ever  was  heard  a  Halloween  tale  like  that. 

"  It  was  a  white  horse,  standing  in  the  grave-yard,  with 
his  hind  feet  ou  the  graves  and  his  paws  in  the  sky,"  said 
he,  "  and  under  him  was  a  shadow  like  a  cloud,  aud — 

"  But  where  is  Eliza?"  asked  Brister  Miller. 

"  She  rode  right  ou  after  the  doctor!" 

"And  you  left  her  to  meet  such  a  sight  as  that!"  said 
Mr.  Miller. 

"She  would  do  it;  she's  onerary.  There  was  no  need 
that  both  of  us  should  go  for  the  doctor!" 

Brister  Miller  called  his  hired  people  together,  and  they 
alarmed  the  neighborhood.  At  midnight  a  company  of 
men  had  gathered  before  the  house,  who  should  go  and  see 
what  this  remarkable  story  could  mean. 

"  I  always  thought  that  the  girl  was  rather  strange," 
said  Mrs.  Miller.  "There  may  be  some  witchery  or  other 
about  this  Halloweeu." 

Eliza,  brave  girl  that  she  was,  rode  firmly  towards  the 
hill-side  grave-yard.  As  she  came  nearer  to  it  the  white 
horse  did  not  appear  to  be  so  large  as  when  she  first  saw 
it.  It  was  indeed  a  horse,  a  live  one;  it  had  its  forefeet 
on  the  lower  limbs  of  an  old  apple-tree,  which  limbs  were 
bent  downward  toward  the  ground.  It  was  eating  apples 
off  the  high  branches,  reaching  its  long  neck  up  to  pick 
them. 

Horses  are  very  fond  of  apples,  and  try  in  every  way  to 
get  into  orchards  when  they  have  gained  a  taste  for  the 
fruit.  They  have  been  known  to  uuhead  apple  barrels, 
ami  they  will  eat  apples  from  the  lower  limbs  of  a  tree, 
and  reach  high  for  the  apple  limbs  after  the  fruit  ou  the 
lower  limbs  are  gone.  They  like  sour  apples,  and  in  this 
way  become  cider  drinkers. 

Eliza  stopped  the  wagon.  She  got  out  of  it,  and  tied  the 
horse  to  a  tree  by  the  roadside.  It  was  midnight — Hal- 
loweeu. She  thought  of  English  merrymakings,  of  the 
gaiiics  with  apples,  of  the  curious  old  stories  and  songs  that 
she  had  heard  on  such  nights  as  this  in  her  girlhood.  She 
hurried  past  the  graves  and  came  to  the  white  horse,  aud 
said,  "Jack!  Jack!"  The  horse  seemed  alarmed,  let  his 
raised  body  down  to  the  ground,  snorted,  aud  trotted  away. 

Eliza  stood  there  all  alone  at  that  still  midnight  hour. 


The  moon  rode  clear  in  the  heavens  now ;  the  woods 
were  still,  and  around  her  were  graves.  Did  she  believe  in 
spirits?  Yes,  in  her  mother's,  and  as  soon  as  she  thought 
of  that  she  recalled  that  she  bad  been  sent  for  the  doctor, 
and  that  it  was  her  duty  to  hurry  on.  Her  heart  would 
have  been  light,  but  for  her  pity  for  Obed.  He  had  indeed 
proved  a  coward,  but  he  had  been  wrongly  taught  aud 
trained. 

She  rode  to  the  doctor's  house,  roused  the  doctor,  and 
brought  him  back  with  her  to  the  neighborhood,  and  left 
him  at  poor  Mrs.  Hopgood's,  and  then  rode  home. 

She  was  surprised  to  see  a  crowd  of  men  before  the  door. 
Obed  stood  among  them.  They  awaited  her  coming  in 
intense  interest,  but  in  silence. 

She  got  down  from  the  wagon,  saying, "  Some  one  will 
have  to  carry  the  doctor  back  again." 

"  Who  will  go  ?"  asked  Mr.  Miller. 

There  was  no  response.  No  one  wanted  to  meet  a  white 
horse  with  his  body  on  a  cloud  aud  "  his  feet  in  the  sky  "  on 
this  mysterious  night  of  Halloween. 

"  I  will  go,"  said  Eliza,  firmly. 

"  Yes,  Eliza,  you  go,"  said  Mr.  Miller.  "  You  are  a  brave 
girl." 

Eliza  mounted  the  wagon  seat. 

Obed  stepped  up  to  her,  and  whispered,  "  Say,  Eliza,  what 
was  it  T" 

"  I  will  never  tell ;  remember,  now  remember  once  for 
all,  for  your  sake,  Obed,  I  will  never  tell.  Yon  played  me 
a  mean  trick,  Obed  ;  but  other  people  were  to  blame  for  it ; 
you  never  had  any  one  to  teach  you  like  my  mother.  For 
your  sake,  Obed,  left,  as  you  are,  all  alone  in  the  world,  I 
will  never  say  another  word.  Now  I  have  done  my  whole 
duty,  Obed,  and,  although  I  cannot  trust  you,  I  will  always 
be  your  friend." 

Obed  turned  away. 

"  What  did  she  say  ?"  asked  the  people. 

"  She  said  that  she  would  never  tell  what  she  saw,"  said 
Obed. 

"I  shall  keep  a  close  eye  on  that  girl  hereafter.  There 
may  be  witches,  and  she  may  be  one.  This  is  a  very  strange 
night,  this  Halloween."  So  said  Mrs.  Miller. 

Obed  had  received  an  arrow  in  his  heart.  "  Although  I 
i-ininiit  Inixl  you,"  the  words  spoken  by  Eliza  haunted  him. 
He  went  about  a  dull,  absent-minded  young  man,  and  the 
people  attributed  his  sadness  to  the  sight  that  he  had  seen 
in  the  midnight  ride. 

Eliza  was  always  very  kind  to  him.  She  never  spoke  to 
him  of  the  night  that  he  had  deserted  her  but  once.  It 
was  ou  the  eve  before  she  united  with  the  village  church. 

"Obed, "she  said,  "I  have  something  ou  my  conscience. 
I  owe  it  to  you  to  say  that  what  I  saw  on  that  Halloween, 
niglit  would  never  have  harmed  you  or  me." 

This  confession  added  to  his  depression  of  spirits.  He 
had  indeed  been  a  coward,  and  forfeited  the  trust  of  the 
best  aud  truest  heart  that  he  had  ever  known. 

The  Revolution  came.  A  new  flag  leaped  into  the  air. 
Obed  had  heard  the  cannon  of  Bunker  Hill,  and  seen  from 
afar  the  smoke  of  the  battle  as  it  arose  on  the  afternoon  of 
that  fateful  day. 

There  was  a  call  for  minute-men.  A  horseman  came  rid- 
ing into  Medtield,  blowing  a  horn,  and  calling  upon  the 
farmers  to  volunteer. 

Obed  started  up  at  the  sound.  He  knew  what  was 
wanted. 

He  called  Eliza  out  under  the  great  elms. 

"English  Eliza,  I  am  going.  I  shall  never  come  back. 
You  will  never  see  me  again.  I  shall  never  come  back. 
Some  one  must  die  in  this  cause,  aud  who  better  than  I  ? 
Coward  you  think  me,  but  you  do  not  know  me.  I  am  not 
afraid  to  die.  We  were  thrown  upou  the  world  together, 
and  I  have  thought  well  of  you.  Don't  you  remember  how 
we  used  to  go  sassafrasing  with  each  other?" 

"  Yes,  Obed." 

"And  looking  for  Indian-pipe  when  we  were  not  looking 
for  anything  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"And  picking  blue  gentians  in  the  old  cranberry  mea- 
dows ?" 


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HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"  Yes." 

"And  listening  to  the  bluebirds  when  the  maples  were 
red;  and  to  the  uiartiu  birds  when  the  apple-trees  were  in 
bloom  ;  and  to  the  red  robins,  and  all?" 

"  Yes,  yes." 

"  Aud  we  used  to  sing  out  of  the  same  book  ou  Sundays." 

"  Yes." 

"You  remember;  I  do.  Eliza,  I  want  you  to  make  me 
one  promise." 

"  I  always  thought  well  of  you,  Obed.  I  would  die  for 
you." 

"I  am  going  away,  aud  I  shall  die  for  the  cause.  Some 
day  the  news  will  come  back  to  ye  that  I  am  dead  ;  that  I 
fell  ou  the  field  somewhere.  I  do  not  kuow  where  it.  will 
be.  Will  you  forgive  me,  theu,  for  being  a  coward  on  that 
Halloween  night  when  I  was  a  boy  aud  you  was  a  girl  ? 
Promise  me  that  now." 

"I  forgave  you  long  ago.  I  believe  you  to  be  a  brave, 
true-hearted  man,  Obed.  I  think  the  world  of  you." 

"  But  you  don't  know  that  I  am  not  a  coward.  You  will 
kuow.  Yon  will  forgive  all,  theu?" 

"Yes;  there  is  nothing  between  us  now." 

"'Yes,'  you  say.  That  word  is  all  that  I  desire  in  this 
world.  I  am  now  ready  to  go." 

He  fell  righting  bravely  at  Moumouth.  Then  English 
Eliza  for  the  first  time  told  the  story  of  the  midnight  ride 
on  Halloween,  and  what  it  was  that  Obed  saw,  and  she 
added  in  tears, 

"But  he  was  a  brave  man,  Obed  was!" 


HER  FIRST  SEA  VIEW. 

SHE  walked  across  the  glistening  sands, 
Beneath  the  morning  skies, 
With  tangled  sea-weed  in  her  hands, 
And  sunshine  in  her  eyes. 

Far  off — as  far  as  she  could  see — 

The  snowy  surges  beat, 
And  once — she  laughed  delightedly — 

The  water  kissed  her  feet. 

She  tossed  her  pretty  curly  head — 

Her  lips,  half-open   buds — 
"It's  mermaids'  washing-day,"  she  said; 

"The  sea  is  full  of  suds!" 

Then  part  in  glee,  and  part  in  doubt, 

Aud  wholly  in  surprise, 
She  added,  "When  the  wash  is  out, 

I  wonder  how  it  dries?" 

MARTHA  T.  TYLER. 


HOW  TO   FIND  AND  MOUNT  SIGNETS. 

THERE  is  nothing  prettier  or  more  attractive,  hanging 
on  the  walls  of  one's  parlor  or  chamber,  than  a  group 
of  signet  impressions  in  sealing-wax  of  various  colors,  ar- 
tistically arranged  and  handsomely  mounted;  while  the 


SOAEAB.EU8. 


SEAL  OF  CONFEDEUATE  STATES. 


pleasure  to  be  derived  in  seeking  them  is  quite  as  keen  as 
that  which  the  coin  or  stamp  hunter  enjoys,  without  the 
expense  attached  to  them,  for  our  seals  cost  comparatively 
nothing.  The  outfit  is  simple,  consisting  of  a  dozen  sticks 
of  sealing-wax  in  different  colors — black,  brown,  red,  gold, 
white,  and  green,  making  a  charming  combination  with 
any  other  shades  that  take  the  fancy  of  the  collector.  A 
light  wooden  or  strong  pasteboard  box  to  carry  the  articles, 
a  box  of  matches,  a  white  taper  (cut  in  half  for  convenience' 
sake),  aud,  later  ou,  a  piece  of  stiff  white  card-board  (10x22, 
22x28  being  good  sizes)  to  mount  them  on. 

Keep  in  the  bottom  of  the  box  containing  the  wax  a 
dozen  or  more  pieces  of  thick,  white,  unruled  writing-paper 
cut  into  ovals,  circular,  oblong,  and  square  shapes,  varying 
iu  size  from  one-half  inch  iu  width  to  two  inches  in  length. 
This  is  all  that  is  required.  Now  for  our  hunt.  As  you 
meet  friends  and  acquaintances  notice  their  rings  and 
watch-charms.  When  any  are  discovered  with  a  figure, 
title,  handsome  monogram  or  initial  ou  it,  borrow  it,  and 
make  your  impression.  This  is  accomplished  by  laying  a 
piece  of  your  writing-paper,  at  least  half  an  inch  larger 
than  the  seal  to  be  used,  on  some  smooth  surface  like  a  ta- 
ble. Then  take  a  stick  of  wax  between  the  thumb  and  fore- 
finger of  the  right  hand.  With  the  left  hand  light  a  match 
or  taper,  aud  bring  them  together  just  on  the  paper  where 
the  wax  melts  sufficiently  to  drop  freely,  rub  the  end  of  the 
sealing-wax  quickly  over  the  middle  of  the  paper.  Then 
moistening  the  seal  with  the  tongue  to  prevent  the  stone 
adhering  to  the  burning  wax,  press  it  firmly  into  the  hot 
bed  prepared  for  it,  a  second  or  so,  being  careful  to  lift  it 
straight  up  when  takeu  oft',  thus  securing  a  clean  edge.  If 
this  is  properly  done  a  fine  impression  of  your  subject  is 
secured.  Repeat  this  operation  several  times,  taking  dif- 
ferent-colored wax  for  duplicates,  which  will  enable  yon  to 
make  exchange  with  other  collectors,  who  are  unable  to 
get  these  same  figures,  but  have  others  not  in  your  collec- 
tion. 

In  this  manner  one  is  able  to  secure  rare  aud  beautiful 
heads  of  men  and  women,  animals,  birds,  and  fishes.  These 
should  be  placed  in  a  box  by  themselves  carried  for  the 
purpose — as  fast  as  taken.  When  the  writer  started  his 
group,  which  was  mostly  made  iu  Washington,  D.C.,  a  few 
of  the  young  people  met  one  evening  at  a  friend's  house 
aud  decided  to  begin  together,  which  greatly  enhanced  our 
amusement.  Some  one  suggested  we  should  assemble  once 
a  week  at  each  other's  homes,  and  bring  our  friends  with 
us,  so  that  all  could  see  the  impressions  and  make  ex- 
changes. 

This  was  carried  out  an  entire  winter,  and  we  found 
such  a  course  added  immensely  to  our  finds  aud  pleasure, 
as  there  is  no  collecting  that  adapts  itself  better  for  club 
purposes  than  this  for  both  boys  and  girls.  The  capital 
proved,  too,  a  particularly  good  field  for  us,  being  full  of 
people  who  had  seals  gathered  from  all  parts  of  the  world. 
English,  French,  German,  Italian,  and  Spanish  coats  of  arms 
were  found,  besides  quite  a  variety  of  exquisitely  cut 
heads  iu  antique  rings,  gathered  from  the  tombs  and  curi- 
osity shops  of  Greece,  Italy,  and  Egypt.  In  most  cities  the 
seals  may  be  found  in  museums  and  private  collections. 
and  as  the  act  of  making  an 
impression  in  wax  is  not  in- 
jurious to  them,  and  requires 
but  little  time,  we  found  peo- 
ple generally  very  willing 
to  allow  it.  When  a  sufficient 
number  of  seals  are  gathered, 
i.e.,  enough  to  fill  a  card- 
board, they  are  mounted  by 
first  marking  the  place  where 
they  are  to  go  faintly  with  a 
lead -pencil.  Begin  by  mak- 
ing a  square -cut  line  in  the 
centre  of  the  board,  a  little 
smaller  than  the  writing-pa- 
per which  contain  the  seal  im- 
pressions. This  is  for  the  largest 
of  them,  then,  according  to  size, 
graduating  to  the  smallest. 


KNIGHTS  OF  GOLDEN 

CBOSS. 


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HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


The  others  may  be  clustered  around  the  first,  which 
should  have  the  most  space  about  it,  with  at  least  an  inch 
of  border.  When  the  outlines  are  all  drawn  take  a  sharp 
knife  and,  following  the  pencil  marks,  cut  entirely  through 
the  mounting-board. 

The  seals  are  placed  in  their  proper  position  by  cov- 
ering the  outer  edges  of  the  paper  they  are  on  with  mu- 
cilage and  then  pressing  the  card-board  on  to  them, 
taking  care  that  the  seal  shows  through  the  centre  of  the 
cut  space. 

For  a  pretty  effect,  if  the  largest  seal  in  the  middle  is 
red,  surround  it  by  a  circle  of  yellow  ones,  followed  by  blue, 
gold,  brown,  and  black,  giving  a  harmonious  whole.  Some 
collectors  run  a  line  of  blue  or  red  ink  about  the  card-board, 
with  ornamental  curves  at  the  corners  as  a  finishing 
touch. 


HOMER. 


TBEA9CBY  DEPT.  CON.  STATES. 

Have  it  framed  in  some  light  wood,  like  ash,  oak,  or  holly, 
three  and  a  half  to  five  inches  in  width,  with  a  glass  over 
it. 


SEA     RANGERS. 

BY     KIRK     M  U  N  R  O  E, 


AUTHOR  OF  •'  ROAD  RANGERS."  THE  "MATE"  SERIES,  "SNOW-SHOES  AND  SLEDGES,"  "FUR-SEAL'S  TOOTH,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER    IX. 
THE   RANGERS   HAVE   DEALINGS   WITH   PIRATUS. 

\STHEX  tiUe  res*  °f  fie  Rangers  were  awakened  to  the 
V  f  fact  that  there  were  others  on  the  island  besides 
themselves,  they  were  so  certain  that  Captain  Crotty  had 
returned,  and  so  excited  over  the  prospect  of  being  rescued 
from  their  unpleasant  situation,  that  but  for  Will  Rogers 
they  would  have  rushed  to  the  beach  at  once  with  shouts 
of  welcome. 

"Hold  on,  fellows,"  he  said,  in  a  low  tone.  "I  don't  be- 
lieve the  skipper  is  down  there,  for,  you  know,  he  never 
swears — at  least  we  never  heard  him — while  those  men  are 
swearing  like  pirates.  The  rest  of  you  wait  here  while 
Hal  and  I  slip  round  to  that  far  point,  where  we  can  get 
close  to  them  without  being  discovered.  Come  on,  Hal." 

The  other  boys  were  not  at  all  satisfied  with  this  ar- 
rangement, however,  and  the  two  scouts  were  hardly  out 
of  sight  before  Mif  Bowers  said  : 

"  Look  here,  fellows,  I  don't  see  why  we  should  be  left 
behind  doing  nothing.  We  are  just  as  anxious  to  know 
who  those  men  are  as  anybody.  Besides,  supposing  they 
should  go  off  before  Will  and  Hal  got  to  the  point.  Then 
we'd  be  as  bad  off  as  ever,  and  I,  for  one,  am  too  sick  of  this 
plaguey  island  to  be  left  on  it  any  longer.  So  I'm  going  to 
sneak  down  a  little  closer,  and  make  sure  they  don't  get 
away  without  our  knowing  it." 

As  the  speaker  started  to  carry  out  this  intention  the 
others  followed  him.  Only  little  Cal  Moody,  who  was 
afraid  to  go,  and  almost  equally  so  to  stay  alone,  remained 
behind.  The  others  had  not  got  more  than  half-way  to 
the  beach  before  they  saw  a  tall  figure  coming  directly 
towanl  them. 

"  Lie  low,  fellows !"  whispered  Mif  Bowers,  throwing  him- 
self flat  amid  a  growth  of  bayberry  and  sweet-fern.  The 
rest  of  the  boys  instantly  followed  his  example,  and  the 
approaching  figure  had  almost  passed  them  without  dis- 
covering their  presence,  when  it  stopped  to  listen  to  a 
sound  of  pattering  feet  and  an  anxious  voice  calling  in 
suppressed  tones:  "Mif!  Fellows!  Wait  for  me!"  The 
next  moment  little  Cal  Moody  ran  with  a  startled  cry 
plum])  into  the  stranger's  arms. 

"Hello!"  cried  the  latter.  "What's  this?  Who  are  you? 
and  what  are  you  doing  here?  Answer  me  instantly,  you 
young  rascal,  or  I'll  throttle  yon." 

"  Please,  sir,  I  didn't  mean  any  harm,"  gasped  poor  Cal, 
frightened  nearly  out  of  his  senses.  "  I'm  only  a  Road 
Ranger — I  mean  a  sea —  That  is,  I'm  only  a  boy,  and  the 
others  left  me  behind,  and  I  got  scared,  and  was  looking 
for  them.  But  I'll  go  right  back,  if  you'll  only  let  me  go." 

"So  there  are  others,  are  there?"  remarked  the  stranger, 
at  the  same  time  keeping  a  tight  hold  of  Gal's  arm.  "  Who 
are  they  ?  and  where  are  they  ?" 


"Only  boys,  sir,  like  me,  and  we're  camping  out,  and 
waiting  for  Captain  Crotty  to  come  for  us,  and  we've  drunk 
up  all  our  water,  and  are  'most  out  of  everything  to  eat,  so 
we  thought,  perhaps,  you — 

"Where  is  your  camp?"  interrupted  the  stranger. 

"  Right  back  here  a  little  way." 

"Then  come  along  and  show  it  to  me." 

So  Cal  and  the  stranger  started  toward  the  teut,  and  the 
hidden  Rangers  crept  after  them  to  see  what  was  to  be 
done  with  their  youngest  member;  only  Cracker  Bob 
Jones  sped  swiftly  away  in  the  direction  taken  by  Will 
and  Hal  to  notify  them  that  the  camp  was  discovered,  and 
bring  them  back  to  its  defence  in  case  the  new-comers 
should  prove  aggressive. 

As  Will  and  Hal  were  moving  slowly,  and  with  all  the 
caution  of  scouts  approaching  an  enemy's  camp,  Cracker 
Bob  overtook  them  before  they  reached  the  point  toward 
which  the}'  were  making  their  way ;  and,  on  learning  of 
the  new  turn  of  affairs,  they  hastily  retraced  their  steps. 

By  this  time  daylight  was  appearing,  and  when  the 
Ranger  scouts  ueared  their  camp  they  saw  the  other  boys 
gathered  about  a  strange  man,  who  did  not  appear  either 
ferocious  or  inclined  to  enmity.  In  fact,  they  were  all  chat- 
ting and  laughing  in  the  most  friendly  manner. 

As  the  three  late  comers  approached,  the  stranger  stepped 
forward,  and  extending  his  baud  said,  "  So  this  is  Captain 
Will  Rogers  is  it?  I  am  happy  to  meet  you,  my  lad,  and 
glad  that  I  am  in  a  position  to  offer  you  some  assistance  out 
of  your  present  difficulty.  My  name  is  Baugwrll,  Zenas 
Baugwell,at  your  service,  and  I  am  the  owner  of  this  isl- 
and, having  recently  purchased  it.  I  am  about  to  erect  a 
summer  residence  here,  and  have  just  run  over  from  New- 
port in  my  yacht  Whisper,  for  the  purpose  of  selecting  a 
building  site,  getting  acquainted  with  the  harbor,  and  so 
forth.  The  season  being  so  well  advanced,  I  have  got  to 
hurry  things,  and  took  advantage  of  the  calmness  of  the 
night  to  strip  my  yacht  of  her  interior  fittings,  and  fetch 
them  ashore,  as  I  intend  to  bring  over  my  lumber  and  sup- 
plies in  her.  Now  I  am  about  to  return  to  Newport,  which 
is,  as  you  doubtless  know,  only  a  couple  of  hours'  run  from 
here,  and  if  you  want  to  take  passage  with  me  I  shall  be 
most  delighted  to  have  you  do  so,  especially  as  my  young 
friend  here  tells  me  you  are  all  good  sailors.  That  will 
enable  me  to  leave  my  crew  behind,  to  begin  clearing  a 
place  for  the  foundation  of  my  cottage." 

"But,"  said  Will  Rogers,  doubtfully,  "«e  arc  expecting 
some  one — 

"Oh!"  interrupted  the  glib  stranger,  "I  forgot  to  say 
that  I  met  your  friend,  Captain  Crotty,  who  was  forced  to 
take  his  sloop,  the  MHJyirl,  to  Newport  for  docking,  and  as 
he  cannot  be  ready  for  sea  under  several  days,  he  begged 
me  to  bring  you  back  with  me,  always  supposing  that  you 
were  ready  to  leave  the  island.  Now  as  I  am  in  a  great 


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hurry  to  be  off,  for  I  hope  to  go  to  Newport  and  return  to 
this  place  again  before  night,  I  inns,  ask  yon  to  gather  up 
your  traps  as  quickly  as  possible,  while  f  return  to  the 
beach  and  have  a  boat  got  ready  to  take  us  to  the  yacht, 
•where  you  will  find  breakfast  waiting,  and,  of  course, 
plenty  of  fresh  water.  You  need  not  bother  to  bring  any- 
thing except  your  personal  belongings,  as  I  shall  make 
Captain  Crotty  a  handsome  offer  for  the  camp  as  it  stands, 
to  be  used  by  niy  workmen.  In  five  minutes  I  shall  be 
ready." 

Thus  saying.  Mr.  Bangwell  took  his  departure,  waving 
his  hand  pleasantly  to  the  boys  as  he  went. 

"Isn't  this  the  biggest  kind  of  luck?"  cried  Mif  Bow- 
ers. "  1  tell  you  what,  Will,  you  are  altogether  too  sus- 
picious. Now,  I  didn't  think  those  chaps  were  pirates  or 
anything  of  the  kind  from  the  very  first." 

"  Well,"  replied  the  Ranger  Captain,  "  it  may  be  all  right ; 
but  I'm  not  wholly  satisfied  yet,  and  I  don't  know  as  we 
ought — 

"  Oh,  yes,  we  ought,  fast  enough,"  interrupted  Mif  Bow- 
ers. "  We'd  be  great  fools  if  we  didn't  take  this  chance, 
when  Captain  Crotty  has  sent  for  us  too.  Anyhow,  I  for 
one  am  not  going  to  stay  here  any  longer  to  die  of  thirst, 
let  alone  hunger." 

"  Nor  I,"  and  "Me,  too,"  shouted  others. 

So  Will  yielded  to  the  voice  of  the  majority,  and  busied 
himself  with  rolling  np  his  blankets.  If  he  had  not  been 
so  very  thirsty  he  might  still  have  argued  the  question, 
but  no  argument  could  prevail  against  a  vision  of  the 
yacht's  water-tanks.  And,  after  all,  Mr.  Bangwell's  story 
was  very  plausible.  If  at  that  moment  he  could  have  been 
present  at  au  interview  on  the  beach  between  the  stranger 
who  had  just  left  them  and  several  tough-looking  men  who 
had  suspended  their  work  to  gather  about  him,  the  young 
Ranger's  misgivings  would  have  been  replaced  by  certain- 
ties of  a  very  disquieting  character.  The  speaker  was  say- 
ing: 

"  You  see,  mates,  I  suspicioned  that  some  of  the  kids  we 
heard  of  as  camping  out  on  this  island  might  still  be  here, 
so  I  just  strolled  up  to  have  a  look.  Sure  enough,  I  found 
them,  or,  rather,  another  lot,  I  take  it,  who  arc  waiting  here 
for  some  craft  to  come  along  and  take  them  off.  They 
are  green  as  grass,  though,  and  I  pumped  them  dry  in  a 
hurry.  As  quick  as  I  found  that  they  are  as  anxious  to 
get  away  from  here  as  we  are  to  have 'em,  I  faked  up  a 
yarn  about  having  just  bought  the  island,  and  being  in  a 
hurry  to  get  back  to  Newport  in  my  yacht  for  supplies. 
They  claim  to  be  first-class  sailors,  though,  between  yon 
and  me,  I  don't  believe  they  know  enough  to  navigate  a 
scow  at  anchor.  It  gave  me  a  lead,  though,  and  so  I  in- 
vited them  to  help  me  sail  the  yacht  over  to  Newport, 
while  niy  crew — you  fellows,  you  understand — staid  behind 
to  begin  building  operations.  They  jumped  at  the  chance, 
and  will  be  down  in  a  minute  with  their  plunder.  So  we 
•want  to  be  ready  for  them,  and  set  'em  aboard  at  once 
without  giving  them  a  chance  td  examine  any  of  this 
stuff."  Here  the  speaker  pointed  to  a  miscellaneous  pile 
of  boxes,  barrels,  and  bales,  with  which  the  other  men  had 
been  busy. 

"I'll  sail  far  enough  with  them  to  get  'em  well  started," 
he  continued,  "  and  then  give  'em  the  slip  some  way,  and 
I  don't  believe  they'll  know  enough  to  get  back  again,  even 
if  they  want  to.  So  we'll  get  rid  of  them,  and  the  yacht, 
too,  before  the  schooner  comes,  as  well  as  throw  any  craft 
that's  hunting  us  off  our  track,  till  we've  had  plenty  of 
time  to  get  clear,  for  they're  certain  to  sight  the  yacht  and 
follow  her.  Oh,  it's  a  fine  graft,  and  we  want  to  work  it 
for  all  it's  worth!  So,  Scotty,  yon  take  the  yawl  up  to  the 
far  end  of  the  beach,  and  I'll  take  the  gig,  while  you  other 
fellows  lie  low  till  we  are  off." 

The  plan  thus  arranged  was  carried  out  to  the  letter, 
and  ten  minutes  later  the  Sea  Rangers  found  themselves 
once  more  atioat  in  a  natty  schooner-yacht,  evidently  brand 
new,  with  Mr.  Bangwell  at  the  wheel,  and  the  gig  towing 
astern,  while  the  second  boat  was  being  rowed  back  to  the 
beach  by  an  evil-looking  man,  who  answered  to  the  name 
of  "Scotty." 

In  his  haste  to  be  off,  Mr.  Bangwell  had  not  waited  to  get 


up  the  anchor,  but  had  slipped  the  cable,  saying  that  he 
could  pick  it  up  on  his  return. 

The  yacht  was  not  more  than  a  mile  outside  the  harbor, 
and  Mr.  Bangwell  was  just  informing  Will  Rogers  that  the 
course  for  Newport  was  east  by  south  half  south,  when  the 
former  noticed  a  dingy-looking  schooner  approaching  them 
from  dead  ahead.  Without  drawing  attention  to  her,  he 
exclaimed: 

"  By-the-way,  boys,  breakfast  is  ready  in  the  cabin,  so 
just  tumble  down  and  pitch  in  without  waiting  for  me. 
I'll  steer  till  one  of  you  can  come  up  and  take  the  wheel." 

The  Rangers  having  quenched  their  thirst  immediately 
on  getting  aboard,  were  feeling  more  than  ever  hungry, 
and  so  needed  no  second  invitation  to  breakfast.  Thus  in 
another  minute  Mr.  Bangwell  had  the  deck  to  himself.  With 
a  muttered  excuse  for  so  doing,  which  the  boys  only  heard 
indistinctly  and  heeded  not  at  all,  he  drew  the  companion- 
hatch  and  closed  the  cabin  doors.  Then  he  lashed  the 
wheel  in  a  certain  position,  cast  loose  the  painter  of  the 
gig,  slipped  into  the  boat,  and  rowed  rapidly  away  toward 
the  on-coming  schooner,  leaving  the  yacht  to  take  care  of 
herself. 

CHAPTER    X. 
CAPTURED   BY   A  MAN-OF-WAR. 

THE  breakfast  that  the  boys  found  awaiting  them  was 
not  particularly  inviting,  as  it  consisted  principally  of  a  big 
pot  of  muddy  coffee,  a  pan  of  hardtack,  and  a  dish  of  cold 
bacon.  Still,  they  were  too  hungry  to  be  dainty,  and  so 
pitched  into  it  with  a  right  good-will. 

"My!  I  should  think  he  had  stripped  her,'' said  Hal 
Bacon,  gazing  about  the  dismantled  cabin.  "  It's  a  shame, 
too.  The  idea  of  carrying  lumber  in  such  a  fine  craft  as 
this!" 

"  Yes.  Isn't  she  a  beauty  ?"  cried  Cracker  Bob  Jones,  ad- 
miringly. "I'd  like  to  cruise  in  her  for  a  month.  If  Cap- 
tain Crotty  isn't  ready  for  us,  suppose  we  offer  to  help  bring 
her  back  to  the  island  again." 

"I  wouldn't  mind  taking  a  cruise  in  her,"  acknowledged 
Will  Rogers,  "if  only  Captain  Crotty  or  some  other  first- 
class  sailor  was  in  charge,  but  somehow  I  can't  wholly  trust 
I  his  Mr.— 

"  Oh,  pshaw,  Will !"  cried  Mif  Bowers.  "  If  you  ar-en't  the 
most  suspicious  chap  I  ever  knew.  The  man  is  trusting 
us.  and  I  don't  see  why  we  shouldn't  trust  him.  Besides, 
what  could  he  do,  anyhow,  against  so  many  of  us  ?  Why, 
we  could  take  possession  of  this  yacht  and  run  away  with 
her  if  we  wanted  to." 

"Who'd  sail  her  if  we  did?"  asked  Will,  laughing  at  the 
idea  of  his  Rangers  turning  pirates  in  that  way. 

"Why,  we  would,  of  course.  I  rather  guess  we  know 
enough  by  this  time,  after  all  the  experience  we've  had,  to 
sail  a  boat  of  this  size.  I  know  I  would,  anyhow." 

Just  here  there  came  such  a  tremendous  flapping  of  sails, 
thrashing  of  ropes,  and  banging  of  blocks  from  overhead 
that  the  boys  made  a  rush  for  the  deck  to  see  what  was  up. 
To  their  dismay  the  cabin  doors  were  not  only  closed  but 
locked.  In  vain  did  they  pound,  kick,  and  shout  to  be  re- 
leased. There  was  no  answer  to  their  cries,  though  the 
terrifying  racket  overhead  continued  with  increasing  vio- 
lence. 

"  Something  serious  has  happened,"  shouted  Will  Rogers, 
with  a  very  pale  face.  "  Perhaps  Mr.  Bangwell  has  fallen 
overboard,  and  a  squall  has  struck  us.  Anyway,  we  must 
break  open  these  doors." 

But  the  doors  were  stout,  and  for  several  minutes  resist- 
ed their  utmost  efforts.  Finally,  however,  they  gave  way, 
and  the  boys  poured  on  deck.  By  this  time  the  alarming 
noise  had  ceased,  for  the  yacht,  which  had  thrown  her  head 
into  the  wind,  had  again  tilled  away  and  resumed  her  course 
of  her  own  accord. 

The  Rangers  gazed  about  them  iu  bewildered  amaze- 
ment. There  was  no  trace  of  the  man  whom  they  had  left 
on  deck,  nor  of  the  boat  that  had  towed  astern. 

"He  must  have  fallen  overboard  and  got  drowned."  said 
little  Cal  Moody,  in  an  awe-struck  tone. 

"He  must  have  deserted  us  and  gone  off,  though  I  can't 
understand  why,  nor  see  where  he  has  gone,"  answered  Will 


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HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Rogers,  as  he  mechanically  stepped  to  the  wheel  anil  cast 
ott'its  lashing.  "There  is  something  wrong  about  this  whole 
business,  and  we  are  left  in  a  pretty  pickle.  Now  the  ques- 
tion is  what  shall  we  do  about  it?" 

"Go  back  to  the  island  and  wait  for  Captain  Crotty," 
suggested  several. 

••  Keep  on  to  Newport,"  advised  others. 

"But  we  dou't  know  where  it  is, "objected  Sam  Ray. 
••  I'd  run  for  the  nearest  land." 

"  And  he  wrecked  again.     Not  much." 

"We  could  anchor  wheu  we  got  near  shore." 

"  No.  we  couldn't,  'cause  we  haven't  got  any  anchor. 
Don't  you  remember  we  left  it  behind?" 

"That's  so.  Well,  then, let's  keep  ou  till  we  meet  some 
vessel,  and  then  ask  where  Newport  is." 

••  We  know  the  course  to  Newport,"  suggested  Mif  Bow-' 
er.s,  "  for  I  heard  him  telling  you,  Will." 

"  Yes,"  admitted  the  latter.  "  He  told  me  that  Newport 
lay  east  by  south  half  south,  but  I  dou't  believe  it.  In  fact 
I  think  it  lies  just  the  other  way." 

"All  right,  then;  let's  go  that  way." 

As  it  seemed  to  be  the  general  opinion  that  this  was  the 
best  thing  to  he  done,  Will  Rogers,  who  was  gradually  get- 
ting the  hang  of  the  unaccustomed  wheel, brought  the  yacht 
close  on  the  wind,  and  ordered  all  sheets  trimmed  flat.  This 
much  ho  had  learned  on  board  the  Hillyirl.  By  thus  do- 
ing, he  could  lay  a  course  a  little  north  of  east,  which  he 
hoped  would  take  them  to  the  vicinity  of  Newport. 

The  others  discussed  their  situation,  the  disappearance 
of  Mr.  Bangwell,  and  the  probable  ending  of  this  most  re- 
markable cruise  with  unwearied  tongues.  They  still  be- 
lieved themselves  to  be  good  enough  sailors  to  handle  the 
yacht,  and  take  her  anywhere  they  chose.  At  the.  same 
time  they  devoutly  hoped  that  fair  weather  would  hold 
until  they  reached  aome  safe  harbor,  and  earnestly  wished 
for  the  sight  of  one. 

In  the  mean  time  Will  Rogers  was  puzzled  to  account  for 
his  inability  to  keep  the  yacht  ou  her  course.  She  persist- 
ently fell  oft"  frbm  it,  and  seemed  to  he  making  leeway  al- 
most as  fast  as  she  did  headway,  although  a  good  breeze 
was  Mowing.  "There  must  be  a  tremendous  current,"  he 
said  to  himself,  "and  I  guess  I'd  better  head  the:  other 
way." 

80,  in  imitation  of  Captain  Crofty's  well  -  remembered 
order,  he  sung  out,  "  Ready  about '"  and  then  put  the  helm 
hard  down.  He  did  not, however,  remember  to  slack  his 
head-sail  sheets,  and  none  of  the  others  remembered  it  for 
him.  The  yacht  shot  up  into  the  wind  all  right;  hut 
after  hanging  there  for  a  minute  with  slatting  sails,  she 
gracefully  tilled  away  again  on  her  former  tack.  She  had 
missed  stays.  Again  and  again  Will  tried  to  get  her  about, 
but  failed  in  every  instance. 

Now,  for  the  first  time,  the  Rangers  began  to  grow 
alarmed,  and  to  realize  that  something  was  lacking  in  their 
knowledge  of  seamanship.  Their  craft  would  sail  all 
right  where  she  chose  to  go,  but  not  where  they  wanted  her 
to. 

"I  never  heard  of  a  boat  acting  this  way !"  cried  Will 
Rogers,  finally,  and  in  utter  despair. 

"  Let  me  try,"  said  Mif  Bowers ;  and,  glad  to  share  his 
responsibility,  Will  released  the  wheel. 

Mifflin  met  with  no  better  success  than  Will,  and  not 
only  that,  but  became  so  badly  rattled  by  a  sudden  puff 
that  heeled  the  yacht  over  until  her  lee  rail  was  under 
water,  that  he  let  go  of  the  wheel  in  terror,  yelling  to  Will 
to  take  it  before  they  were  capsized. 

Eveu  their  hoped-for  assistance  from  other  craft  failed 
them  ;  for,  though  several,  all  evidently  yachts,  approached 
at  different  times  during  the  day,  they  all  sheered  off  wheu 
HIM  i1  enough  to  distinguish  the  signals  fluttering  from  the 
Whixficr's  mast-heads. 

So  the  unhappy  Sea  Rangers,  growing  more  and  more 
terrified  with  each  passing  hour,  sailed  all  day  without 
making  any  land  or  being  able  to  hail  a  single  vessel.  By 
nightfall  they  were  enveloped  in  a  thick  fog,  the  wind  had 
whipped  round  and  was  blowing  half  a  gale  from  the  east- 
ward, a  heavy  sea  was  running,  and  most  of  the  boys  were 
so  prostrated  by  sea-sickness  that  they  no  longer  cared 


whether  they  lived  or  died.  Just  before  dark  Will  Rogers 
and  little  Cal  Moody,  who  were  the  only  ones  not  affected 
by  sea-sickness,  lowered  all  the  sails,  and  managed  clumsily 
to  secure  them. 

None  of  the  Rangers  had  ever  dreamed  of  anything  so 
awful  as  the  long  hours  of  darkness  that  followed,  during 
which  their  craft  drifted,  rolling  and  pitching  furiously, 
and  utterly  at  the  mercy  of  wind  and  wave.  At  length, 
after  what  seemed  an  eternity  of  darkness  and  terror,  Will 
Rogers,  who,  with  little  Cal  cuddled  close  beside  him,  was 
half  dozing  with  utter  weariness  in  the  cockpit,  was  roused 
into  a  sudden  activity  by  the  unmistakable  boom  of  break- 
ers close  at  hand. 

"Hello,  fellows!"  he  yelled,  springing  to  his  feet,  "tumble 
up  here  in  a  hurry  and  make  sail  or  we'll  he  lost.  We're 
almost  on  the  rocks  now!" 

This  thrilling  summons  was  sufficient  to  banish  even 
sea-sickness,  and  a  few  minutes  later  the  yacht,  under 
mainsail  and  jib,  was  slowly  drawing  away  from  the  dan- 
gerous though  still  unseen  reef. 

Some  hours  afterwards  a  hot  sun,  scattering  the  sullen 
fog-hank,  poured  its  cheery  rays  over  the  haggard-looking 
Rangers,  who,  in  various  attitudes  of  utter  misery,  occupied 
the  wet  decks  of  the  yacht.  All  at  once  they  sprang  to 
their  feet  with  shouts  of  dismay  and  terror,  for,  out  from  a 
low  hanging  bank  of  mist,  that  was  slowly  rolling  away 
astern,  there  came  a  flash  as  of  lightning,  and  the  thunder- 
ous roar  of  a  heavy  gnu.  At  the  same  moment,  as  though 
it  had  been  cloven  in  twain  by  the  shot,  the  fog  opened  and 
a  United  States  man-of-war,  snow-white  and  gleaming  in 
the  sunlight,  loomed  up  directly  behind  them,  terrible  and 
yet  grandly  beautiful  in  its  on-rushing  majesty. 

The  Rangers  gazed  at  this  bewildering  apparition  in 
speechless  terror,  fully  expecting  that  another  minute 
would  see  them  run  down  and  crushed  like  an  egg-shell. 
As  the  monster  dashed  up  abreast  of  them,  at  the  same 
time  slackening  her  speed  wilh  reversed  engines,  an  officer, 
hailing  from  the  bridge,  demanded  to  know  the  yacht's 
name. 

"  Jl'liiaper .'"  shouted  Will  Rogers,  recovering  somewhat 
his  self-control. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that,  you  impudent  young  pi- 
rate ?"  roared  back  the  officer,  angrily.  "Why  don't  you 
heave  to?  Heave  to,  sir,  at.  mice,  or  it  will  be  the  worse 
for  yon.'' 

"  \Ve  don't  know  how,"  sang  back  Will,  while  all  the 
others  trembled  in  their  bare  feet,  and  almost  expected  to 
receive  a  broadside  from  the  gleaming  guns  that  grinned  at 
them  not  a  stone's-throw  away. 

"Then  lower  your  sails  and  come  to  anchor,  while  I  send 
a  boat  aboard,"  shouted  the  officer,  as  the  great  white  ship 
glided  by. 

The  yacht's  crew  could  not  anchor,  but  they  let  down 
their  sa.ils  by  the  run,  and  a  few  minutes  later  were  ap- 
proached by  a  boat  from  the  man-of-war,  bearing  a  brass 
howitzer  in  its  bows,  aud  manned  by  a  lusty  crew  of  bine 
jackets. 

"Way  enough!  Oars!"  commanded  a  voice  from  the 
stern  of  the  boat,  as.  it  dashed  alongside,  aud  at  the  sound 
every  Ranger  was  thrilled  as  though  by  an  electric  shock. 
In  another  moment  they  had  rushed  forward,  and  were 
overwhelming  with  their  clamorous  welcome  the  younger 
of  the  two  officers  who  had  just  gained  the  yacht's  deck. 

"Mr.Barlow!  Sir!  I  am  amazed.  What  is  the  meaning 
of  all  this?"  demanded  the  elder  officer,  steruly. 

To  this  Billy  Barlow,  Ready  Ranger,  and  naval  cadet, just 
now  attached  to  the  United  States  practice-ship  liancroft, 
made  bewildered  answer:  "  Why,  sir,  they  are  not  pirates, 
after  all,  but  my  own  schoolmates  from  Berks.  I  know 
every  one  of  them,  and  can  vouch  for  their  character  as  for 
my  own." 

"Then,  perhaps,"  said  the  lieutenant  a  little  less  sternly, 
but  still  with  a  decided  trace  of  suspicion  in  his  voice, 
"yon  can  explain  how  they  happen  to  be  in  possession  of 
the  yacht  Blue  Billow,  which  was  stolen  from  her  anchor- 
ago  in  the  East  River  by  a  gsing  of  thieves  four  days  ago, 
and  run  off  with  the  most  valuable  cargo  of  plunder  ever 
taken  out  of  New  York  city.  If  you  or  they  can  explain 


1079 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


'ANSWER    ME   INSTANTLY,  YOU    YOUNG    RASCAL,  OR   I'LL   THROTTLE   Yol 


tliis  satisfactorily,  well  anil  good.  If  not,  it  is  my  duty  to 
clap  them  in  irons,  and  convey  them  aboard  the  ship  as 
prisoners." 

"I  think  I  can  explain  the  situation  to  your  satisfaction, 
sir,"  said  Will  Rogers,  boldly,  "though  tb is  is  the  first  we 
Lave  beard  about  thieves  or  stolen  g Is." 

The  officer  listened  with  closest  attention  to  Will's  story, 
and  when  it  was  finished,  he  said,  with  a  smile:  "Well. 
young  gentleman,!  am  very  much  inclined  to  believe  you, 
and  am  very  glad  to  be  able  to  carry  back  such  a  favorable 
report  to  our  commanding  officer.  Mr.  Barlow,  you  will 
remain,  with  two  uieii,  in  charge  of  the  yacht.  Make  sail 
and  stand  off  and  on  within  easy  hail  of  the  ship." 

As  soon  as  the  Lieutenant  had  departed,  and  Hilly  Barlow 
li:nl  <-avried  out  his  instructions,  tin-  naval  cadet  was  over- 
whelmed by  a  torrent  of  questions  from  the  bewildered 
Rangers. 

Why  did  he  call  this  yacbt  Blue  Billoir  when  her  name  is 
Whisper?  How  did  a  man-of-war  happen  to  be  sent  after 
her?  How  did  you  know  where  to  find  us?  etc., etc. 

"Because,"  answered  Billy  Barlow,  laughing,  "she  be- 
longs to  Admiral  Martin,  who  has  only  just  built  her.  He 
named  her  after  your  play,  which  he  happened  to  see  in 
Chester;  and  when  she  was  reported  stolen,  we  got  orders 
to  Keep  a  lookout  for  her  during  our  cruise  down  the  Sound. 
We  heard  of  you  yesterday  evening  from  several  yachts- 
men, who  had  recognized  your  flag;  but  thinking  you  were 
a  lot  of  pirates,  had  no  desire  for  a  closer  acquaintance. 
It's  big  luck,  though,  that  I  happened  to  be  along  to  iden- 
tify you,  for  our  first  lutf  is  in  a  towering  rage  at  your  sup- 


posed  insult  iu   telling  him  to  whisper 
when  he  hailed  you." 

The  yacht  was  shortly  hailed  agaiu, 
and  ordered  to  follow  the  Bancroft  to  the 
vicinity  of  the  island  on  which  the  Raug- 
ers  had  so  recently  camped,  and  which,  to 
their  great  surprise,  they  now  learned 
was  not  more  than  a  couple  of  miles  away. 
As  they  sailed  toward  it,  with  Billy- 
Barlow  at  the  wheel,  he  asked  Will  Rog- 
ers how  it  happened  that  he  had  been 
trying  to  sail  close  hauled  with  his  cen- 
treboard up. 

"  Why,"  replied  the  Ranger  Captain, 
"I  never  thought  of  that,  and  don't  be- 
lieve 1  should  have  known  what  to  do 
with  it  if  I  had,  for,  you  see,  the  Millijirl 
didn't  have  any  centreboard,  and  so  we 
didn't  learn  about  it.'' 

"  Which  shows,"  remarked  Billy  Bar- 
low, sagely, "  that  it  isn't  safe  to  go  to 
sea,  especially  in  command  of  a  vessel, 
without  a  previous  and  pretty  extensive 
experience  in  various  styles  of  craft." 

"And  after  you've  got  your  extensive 
experience,  perhaps  you  won't  ever  want 
to  go  to  sea  again,"  laughed  Will  Rogers. 
"At  any  rate,  that's  the  way  I  feel  now." 
"  I  don't  care  whether  you  call  it  ex- 
tensive experience  or  .sea  -  sickness," 
chimed  in  Mif  Bowers,  "but  I  know  I've 
had  enough  of  it  to  last  me  a  lifetime." 

"Last  night  I  promised  myself  that  if 
ever  I  set  foot  on  dry  land  again  I'd  stay 
there,  and  I  mean  to  keep  my  promise, 
too,"  announced  Cracker  Bob  Jones,  with 
an  expressive  shake  of  the  head. 

"  I  think,"  said  little  Cal  Moody,  "  that 
I'll  resign  from  the  Sea  Rangers,  for  I 
don't  seem  to  care  as  much  about  being 
one  as  I  did  " 

And  this  was  the  opinion  of  the  entire 
wet,  ragged,  dirty,  barefooted,  sunburned, 
hungry,  and  generally  disreputable  look- 
ing crew  of  the  yacht  Blue  Billoir. 

At  the  island  they  found  the  Millyirl, 
with  poor  Captain  Crotty  almost  be- 
side himself  with  anxiety.  He  was  so 
overcome  with  joyful  emotion  at  the  safe  reappearance  of 
his  missing  charges  that,  as  they  thankfully  scrambled 
aboard  the  old  sloop,  he  could  only  exclaim,  "  Waal,  I'll  be 
Mowed!" 

He  had  met  a  dingy  old  schooner  sailing  out  of  the  har- 
bor as  he  entered  it,  and  described  her  so  minutely  that  the 
commander  of  the  Bancroft  decided  to  go  in  pursuit  of  her 
at  once.  This  he  did,  ultimately  capturing  her,  with  Mr. 
liangwell  and  his  pals,  together  with  all  their  plunder,  in- 
cluding the  handsome  fittings  of  Admiral  Marliu's  yacht  on 
board. 

The  Blue  Billow  was  sent  to  New  York  iu  charge  of  prize- 
master  William  Barlow  and  a  picked  crew  of  seamen,  while 
the  sturdy  old  Millyirl  bore,  her  picked  crew  of  landsmen, 
\\  ho  no  longer  had  the  least  desire  to  become  seamen,  safe- 
ly back  to  Berks. 

Here,  after  showing  up  at  their  respectives  homes,  the 
Rangers  met  in  special  session  at  Range  Hall  for  the  pur- 
pose of  giving  honorary  member  Pop  Miller  a  full  account 
of  their  recent  expedition.  The  little  old  gentleman  list- 
ened with  absorbed  attention,  and  when  the  tale  was  con- 
cluded he  exclaimed  : 

"  Mai-maids,  mutiny,  shipwreck,  cast  away  on  a  desolate 
inland,  hungry,  thirsty,  kidnapped,  pirates,  lost  at  sea,  cap- 
tured by  a  mau-o'-war,  and  safe  back  home,  all  inside  of  one 
week,  is  a  record  what  I  don't  believe  ran  be  beat  by  any 
other  lot  of  Sea  Rangers  in  the  hull  world" — which  conclu- 
sion is  fully  shared  by  every  member  of  the  Ready  Rangers 
of  Berks. 

Tin:  KXD. 


I  0-0 


OAKLEIGH. 


BY      ELLEN      DOUGLAS      D  E  L  A  X  D. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

IT  was  four  years  later,  and  it  was  again  tlio  day  before 
Christinas. 

Cynthia  sat  in  her  own  room  by  the  bed,  which  was 
covered  with  presents  in  various  stages  of  completion; 
some  tied  up  and  marked,  ready  to  be  sent,  others  only 
half  finished,  and  one  or  two  but  just  begun.  Bob,  as 
usual,  lay  at  her  fret. 

"There!"  cried  she,  as  with  a  loud  snap  her  needle 
broke  for  the  third  time;  "there  it  goes  again.  I  believe 
I'll  give  up  this  wretched  frame  and  all  the  other  things 
that  are  not  finished,  aiul  go  to  Boston  this  morning.  I'll 
just  buy  everything  I  see,  regardless  of  price." 

"You  would  never  get  near  the  counters,  the  shops  are 
so    packed,"  observed    Edith,  who    was   hovering    over    a 
table  full  of  lovely  articles  on  the  other  side  of  the  large 
room.      "Just  send   what  you  have,  Cynthia,  and   let  the 
rest  go.     You  can't  possibly  fin- 
ish them  in  time.     You  give  so 
many  Christmas  presents." 

"Oh,  it's  all  very  well  for 
you,  with  all  those  wedding- 
presents  and  the  Christmas 
things  you'll  h.-ivc  besides,  to 
think  other  people  won't  want 
them!  You  don't  take  half  as 
much  interest  in  Christmas  as 
usual  this  year.  Edith,  just  he- 
cause  you  are  going  to  lie  mar- 
ried so  soon.  Now  I  should 
never  change  about  Christinas 
if  I  were  to  be  married  forty 
times — which  I  hope  I  sha'n't 
he.  In  fact,  I've  about  made  up 
my  mind  never  to  marry  at  all." 

"Nonsense!  I  think  I  used 
to  say  that  myself  when  I  was 
as  young  as  you  are." 

"And  you're  just  two  years 
older,  so  according  to  that  you 
were  saying  so  this  time  two 
years  ago,  which  was  not  by 
any  means  the  case,  for  you 
were  already  engaged  to  Dennis 
then !  In  fact,  I  don't  believe 
you  ever  said  it.  Oh,  another 
needle!  I'm  too  excited  to 
work,  anyhow.  What  with 
weddings  and  Christmas  and 
the  boys  coining  home,  I  am  ut- 
terly incapable  of  further  exer- 
tion." 

She  tossed  the  unfinished 
photograph-frame  across  the  bed 
and  leaned  back  in  her  chair. 
Then  she  began  to  gather  up 
her  work  materials.  Finally 
she  moved  restlessly  to  the  win- 
dow. 

"It  is  beginning  to  snow. 
I  hope  the  boys  won't  be  block- 
ed up  on  the  way.  Wouldn't 
it  be  dreadful?" 

"  I  suppose  you  mean  Neal. 
Of  course  Jack  cau  get  out  from 
Cambridge.  Ah,  here  comes 
Dennis!1'  and  Edith  hastily  left 
the  room. 

"Dennis,  Dennis  —  always 
Dennis!"  said  Cynthia  to  her- 
self. "I  wonder  if  I  could  ever 
become  so  silly?  Certainly  I 
never  could  about  Dennis  Mor- 
gan, though  he  is  a  dear  old 


fellow,  and  I'm  very  glad  I'm  going  to  have  him  for  a  bro- 
ther-in-law." 

Cynthia  stood  for  some  time  at  the  window,  looking  out 
at  the  swiftly  falling  Hakes  which  were  already  whitening 
the  ground.  Bob  stood  beside  her,  his  fore-paws  resting 
on  the  window-sill.  He  belonged  to  Cynthia  now  ;  but 
she  patted  his  head  and  whispered  in  his  ear  that  his 
master  was  coming,  which  made  the  black  tail  wag  jov- 
fully. 

Four  years  had,  of  course,  made  considerable  change  in 
Cynthia;  and  yet  her  face  did  not  look  very  much  older. 
Her  fearless  blue  eyes  were  just  as  merry  or  as  thoughtful 
by  turns  as  they  had  always  been — at  this  moment  very 
thoughtful ;  and  the  pretty  head,  with  the  hair  gathered  in 
a  soft,  knot  at  the  back,  drooped  somewhat  as  she  looked 
out  on  the  fast-gathering  snow. 

She  was  wondering  how  Neal  would  be  this  time.     Dur- 


SUE    WAS   JUST    COMING    DOWN    THE    BKUAD    OLD    STAIRCASE. 
1081 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


ing  his  last  visit  he  had  seemed  different.  She  wished 
that  people  would  not  change.  Why  was  one  obliged  to 
grow  up?  If  they  could  only  remain  boys  and  girls  for- 
ever, what  a  lovely  place  the  world  would  be!  She  had 
hated  to  have  Edith  become  engaged,  and  now  in  two 
days  she  was  going  to  be  married  and  leave  the  old  home 
forever.  To  be  sure,  she  was  to  live  in  Brentoii,  in  a  dear 
little  house  of  her  own,  but  it  would  not  be  the  same  thing 
at  all. 

Of  one  thing  Cynthia  was  sure.  She  would  never  many 
and  go  away  from  Oakleigh ;  she  would  stay  with  her 
father  and  mother  forever.  The  next  wedding  in  the  fam- 
ily would  be  either  Jack's  or  Janet's.  Jack  had  overcome 
his  shyness  and  become  quite  a,  "lady's  man,"  and  as  for 
Janet — but  just  then  the  young  womau  in  question  came 
into  the  room. 

She  was  eleven  years  old  now,  tall  for  her  age,  and  with 
her  hair  in  a  "  pig-tail,"  but  the  roguish  look  in  her  eyes 
showed  that,  like  the  Janet  of  former  times,  she  was  ever 
ready  for  mischief. 

She  carried  a  pile  of  boxes  in  her  arms,  and  was  fol- 
lowed by  Willy,  who  staggered  under  a  similar  load,  and 
by  Mrs.  Franklin,  also  with  her  arms  full. 

"More  wedding-presents,"  J_anet  announced.  "Edith 
and  Dennis  have  been  looking  at  them,  and  they  sent  them 
up  for  you  to  see  and  fix." 

As  she  uttered  the  last  words  one  of  the  boxes  slipped, 
and  away  went  a  quantity  of  articles  over  the  floor — 
spoons,  forks,  gravy-ladles,  and  salt-cellars — in  wild  confu- 
sion, cards  scattered,  and  no  means  of  telling  who  sent 
what,  nor  in  which  box  anything  belonged. 

"Janet,"  groaned  Cynthia,  "if  that  isn't  just  like  you! 
You  ought  to  be  called  'The  Great  American  Dropper,'  for 
everything  goes  from  you." 

"Never  mind,"  returned  Janet,  cheerfully.  "  Willy,  you 
pick  them  up  while  I  see  who's  coming.  I  hear  wheels. 
It's  a  station  carriage." 

"  Is  it  ?"  cried  Cynthia.     "  Can  it  be  already  ?" 

"It's  Aunt  Betsey,"  was  Janet's  next  piece  of  informa- 
tion. 

"Oh!"  came  from  Cynthia,  in  disappointed  tones. 

"  Why,  who  did  you  think  it  was  ?''  asked  her  young 
sister,  turning  and  surveying  her  calmly  and  critically. 
"Aren't  yon  glad  to  see  Aunt  Betsey?  And  why  is  your 
face  so  very  red  ?  Are  you  expecting  any  one  else  ?" 

"No,  only  the  boys,"  said  Cynthia,  busying  herself  with 
the  scattered  silverware. 

"The  boys!  I  don't  see  why  your  face  should  look  so 
queer  for  them." 

Mrs.  Frankliu  glanced  at  Cynthia  quickly. 

"Coine,"  said  she,  much  to  her  daughter's  relief,  "we 
must  go  and  welcome  Aunt  Betsey." 

The  little  old  lady  was  as  agile  as  ever.  She  had  come 
for  Christinas  and  for  the  wedding,  which  was  to  take 
place  on  the  twenty-sixth. 

"  I  am  glad  you  didn't  put  it  off,"  she  said  to  Edith  when 
she  had  kissed  her  and  kissed  Dennis,  and  patted  them 
both  on  the  shoulder.  "  Never  put  off  till  to-morrow  what 
can  be  done  to-day,  as  I  learned  to  my  cost  late  in  life — 
though  not  so  very  late,  either.  And  now  I  want  to  see  the 
wedding-presents." 

And  she  trotted  upstairs  in  front  of  them  just  as  nimbly 
as  she  did  years  ago,  when  she  went  up  to  show  her  nieces 
her  new  false  front. 

Jack  arrived  iu  the  afternoon.  He  was  a  Sophomore  at 
Harvard  now — very  elegant  in  appearance,  very  superior  as 
to  knowledge  of  the  world,  but  underneath  the  same  old 
Jack,  good-natured,  plodding,  persevering.  He  still  ran 
the  poultry  farm,  though  he  paid  a  man  to  look  after  it 
while  he  was  away. 

The  day  wore  on,  night  came  down  upon  them,  and  still 
Nc:M  did  not  appear.  He  was  to  have  left  Philadelphia 
ilint  morning,  where  he  had  been  living  during  the  past 
four  years.  He  had  grown  more  accustomed  to  the  con- 
finement of  business,  he  had  made  a  number  of  friends  out- 
side of  the  Quaker  element,  and  he  expected  Philadelphia 
to  be  his  permanent  home. 

His  cousin  was  apparently  satisfied  with  his  success,  for 


Neal  had  risen  steadily  since  the  beginning,  and  would  one 
day  be  a  partner.  He  had  come  home  to  Oakleigh  every 
summer  for  two  weeks'  vacation,  but  he  had  not  spent  the 
Christmas  holidays  there  since  the  year  that  his  sister  was 
married. 

This  Christinas  eve,  Cynthia,  in  her  prettiest  gown, 
donned  for  the  occasion,  grew  visibly  more  and  more  im- 
patient, iu  which  feeling  her  step  -  mother  shared.  Mr. 
Franklin  laughed  at  them  as  he  sat  by  the  lamp  reading 
the  evening  paper  as  usual. 

"  Watching  won't  bring  him,"  he  said  when  they  opened 
the  front  door  a  crack  for  the  twentieth  time  and  then  shut 
it  hastily  because  of  the  snow  that  blew  in ;  "  and  in  the 
mean  time  you're  freezing  me!" 

"  Papa,  how  can  you  be  so  prosaic  as  to  read  a  stupid  old 
newspaper  Christmas  eve?"  cried  Cynthia,  as  she  caught 
the  paper  out  of  his  hand,  tossed  it  aside,  and  seated  her- 
self on  his  knee. 

"Seems  to  me  my  little  daughter  looks  very  nice  to- 
night," he  said,  looking  at  her  affectionately.  "She  has 
on  a  very  fine  frock  and  some  very  superior  color  in  her 
cheeks." 

"Well,  it  is  Christmas  eve,  and  the  fire  is  hot," explain- 
ed Cynthia.  » 

"Ho!"  laughed  Janet,  "  that  isn't  it !  You  began  to  get 
blnshy  when  you  thought  the  boys  were  coining  this  morn- 
ing. Yon  thought — 

"Janet,"  interposed  Mrs.  Franklin,  "run  up  stairs  quick- 
ly and  get  the  little  white  package  on  my  dressing-table, 
dear.  I  forgot  to  put  it,  in  the  basket.  You  can  slip  it  iu." 

For  the  old  Oakleigh  custom  still  obtained,  and  the  pres- 
ents were  deposited  in  the  basket  in  the  hall. 

Janet,  her  explanations  nipped  in  the  bud,  departed 
obediently,  her  love  of  teasing  overcome  by  her  desire  to 
see,  feel,  and  even  shake  the  "little  white  package,"  which 
had  an  attractive  sound. 

And  at  last  Neal  arrived.  The  storm  had  begun  at  the 
south,  and  there  had  been  much  detention;  but  he  had 
finally  reached  his  journey's  end,  and  here  he  was,  cold  and 
hungry,  and  very  glad  to  reach  the  friendly  shelter  of  Oak- 
leigh. 

From  the  moment  he  came  iu  Cynthia  found  a  great  deal 
to  do  iu  other  parts  of  the  house — things  which  seemed  to 
require  her  immediate  and  closest  attention.  She  left  her 
mother  and  sister  to  attend  to  the  wants  of  the  traveller, 
and  beyond  the  first  shy  greeting  she  had  very  little  to  say 
to  him.  When  there  was  nothing  left  to  be  done  she  de- 
voted herself  to  Aunt  Betsey.  But  as  soon  as  Neal  had 
appeased  his  appetite  the  excitement  of  opening  the  pres- 
ents began,  and  the  assumption  of  indifference  to  his  com- 
ing was  no  longer  necessary. 

On  Christmas  afternoon  Neal  asked  Cynthia  to  go  out 
with  him.  The  day  was  clear,  the  sleighing  fine,  and  he 
anticipated  having  an  opportunity  for  a  long  talk  with 
her,  uninterrupted  by  the  claims  of  relatives.  It  seemed  to 
him  that  there  were  more  people  than  ever  who  received  a 
share  of  Cynthia's  attention.  He  would  like  to  have  her 
all  to  himself  just  once. 

Very  much  to  his  chagrin,  however,  Cynthia,  who  ac- 
cepted his  invitation  with  apparent  cordiality,  insisted  that 
they  should  go  iu  the  double  sleigh,  and  that  Aunt  Betsey 
and  some  one  else  should  go  too. 

"It  would  be  very  sellish  and  quite  unnecessary  for  us 
to  go  in  the  cutter  when  Aunt  Betsey  is  so  fond  of  a  sleigh- 
ride, "she  said,  severely. 

Neal  grumbled  under  his  breath,  but  could  say  nothing 
aloud,  as  Miss  Trinkett  was  in  the  room.  To  be  sure,  when 
they  drove  off,  Cynthia  sat  iu  front  with  him,  while  his  sis- 
ter entertained  her  aunt  on  the  back  seat;  but  it  was  not 
by  any  means  the  same  thing  as  going  with  Cynthia  alone 
would  have  beeu. 

That  young  woman,  with  apparent  unconsciousness  of 
his  dissatisfaction,  chatted  gayly  about  the  wedding,  the 
various  bits  of  Brenton  gossip,  and  everything  that  she 
could  think  of  to  keep  the  ball  of  conversation  rolling. 
Somehow  it  had  never  before  been  so  difficult  to  talk  to 
Neal.  She  wished  that  he  would  exert  himself  a  little 
more. 


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HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


"How  do  you  like  the  idea  of  being  usher,"  she  asked — 
"you  ami  Jack  and  four  others,  you  know?  Tom  Morgan 
is  to  be  best  man,  Gertrude  and  Kitty  Morgan  are  to  be 
bridemaids,  and  I  maid  of  honor.  But,  Neal,.did  you  hear 
the  story  about  Tony  Brouson  ?" 

"No;'  what  .'" 

"Ob,  he  did  some  terrible  thing  not  very  long  ago.  He 
forged  his  uncle's  name,  I  believe.  It  got  into  the  papers 
at  first,  and  then  it  was  all  bushed  up,  and  his  father  paid 
the  money.  But  wasn't  it  dreadful  ?" 

"I  should  say  so!  But  it  is  just  what  one  might  have 
expected  Bronson  to  do,  Cynth." 

And  then  Neal  relapsed  into  silence  again,  and  Cynthia 
determined  that  she  would  make  no  further  effort  at  eon- 
\  crsat  ion.  If  Neal  would  not  talk  he  need  not,  but  neither 
would  she.  And  after  this,  with  the  exception  of  Miss  Bet- 
sey's voice  from  behind,  nothing  was  heard  but  the  jingle 
of  the  sleigh-bells  until  the  drive  was  over  and  they  were 
at  home  again. 

The  wedding  the  next  day  passed  off  well.  The  bride 
looked  lovely,  as  all  brides  should,  and  Cynthia  was  as 
pretty  as,  if  not  more  so  than,  her  sister.  After  the  cere- 
mony at  the  church  there  was  a  reception  at  the  house, 
which,  notwithstanding  the  winter  aspect  without,  looked 
warm  and  gay  in  its  dress  of  Christmas-greens  and  wed- 
ding-flowers 

Edith  was  upstairs  in  her  old  room,  and  her  mother  and 
Cynthia  were  putting  the  last  touches  to  her  toilet  when 
she  had  changed  her  dress  to  go  away. 

"  Mamma,  I  want  to  say  something  to  you,"  she  said,  put- 
ting her  arms  around  Mrs.  Franklin's  neck.  "  You  know 
how  I  love  you  now,  and  you  know  only  too  well  how  hate- 
ful I  was  to  you  wheu  you  first  came  to  us.  I  look  back 
on  it  now  witli  horror,  especially  the  day  you  heard  me  say 
it  was  so  dreadful  to  have  the  Gordons  couie.  I  want  to 
tell  you,  mamma,  that  next  to  Dennis  the  coming  of  the 
Gordons  was  the  very  best  thing  that  ever  happened  to  me 
in  my  whole  life  !" 

Mrs.  Franklin  could  nor-  speak;  she  could  only  kiss  her 
aud  hold  her  tenderly. 

Cynthia  said  nothing  aloud,  but  she  thought  that  the 
coming  of  the  Gordons  was  the  very  best  thing  that  had 
ever  happened  to  her,  without  any  exception  whatever. 
Dennis,  in  her  eyes,  was  of  minor  importance. 

The  bride  and  groom  went  off  amid  a  shower  of  old  shoes, 
and  then  the  guests  slowly  betook  themselves  to  their 
homes.  It  was  the  first  wedding  at  Oakleigh  for  many 
years,  and  it  was  celebrated  in  a  manner  befitting  such  an 
important  occasion.  Some  of  the  intimate  friends  staid 
during  the  evening,  and  wheu  they  left,  the  family,  tired 
aud  worn  with  excitement,  separated  early. 

The  next  day  Neal  went  to  see  some  of  his  former  friends. 
He  was  absent  several  days,  for  he  had  been  granted  ex- 
tended leave,  aud  was  not  due  iu  Philadelphia  until  the  2d 
of  January. 

It  seemed  very  lonely  and  strange  at  Oakleigh  after  the 
wedding  was  over.  It  was  the  first  break  in  the  family  of 
that  kind,  and  Cynthia  could  uot  become  accustomed  to  it. 
She  thought  that  accounted  for  the  unusual  tit  of  depres- 
sion which  seized  her  the  morning  Neal  went  away,  and 
which  she  could  not  shake  off,  try  as  she  would. 

Edith  and  Dennis  were  to  return  the  last  day  of  the 
year,  and  speud  a  short  time  at  the  old  homestead  before 
going  to  their  uew  house.  Neal  also  was  to  come  back 
that  day,  and  Cynthia  found  herself  longing  for  New-year's 
eve.  She  did  want  to  see  Edith  so  much,  she  said  to  her- 
self a  dozen  times  a  day. 

And  at  last  New-year's  eve  came,  and  with  it  the  absent 
members  of  the  household.  A  merry  party  sat  about  the 
supper-table  that  night.  Cynthia  was  the  gayest  of  the 
gay.  Her  contagions  laugh  rang  out  on  all  occasions,  but, 
indeed,  everybody  laughed  at  every  one  else's  joke,  and 
particularly  one's  own  joke,  apparently  without  regard  to 
the  amount  of  wit  contained  therein. 

As  the  evening  lengthened  Cynthia  grew  more,  quiet. 
The  last  night  of  the  year  always  impressed  her  with  its 
solemnity,  young  though  she  was.  She  left  the  others 
where  they  were  sitting  about  the  fire  waiting  for  the 


clock  to  strike,  aud  wandered  oil'  to  the  dining-room,  to 
the  library,  up  stairs — anywhere.  She  could  not  sit  still. 
She  was  just  coming  down  the  broad  old  staircase  wheu 
Neal  suddenly  appeared  at  the  foot.  He  had  been  waiting 
for  her.  He  was  to  go  back  to-morrow,  aud  he  had  deter- 
mined to  speak  to  her  before  lie  left. 

She  paused  a  moment  in  surprise,  and  the  light  from  the 
Venetian  lantern  which  hung  in  the  hall  shone  down  on 
her  soft  curly  hair  aud  young  face  as  she  stood  with  her 
hand  resting  on  the  bannister.  Neal  thought  he  had  never 
seen  so  lovely  a  picture. 

••  I  want  to  speak  to  you,  Cyuth,"  he  said,  leaning  against 
the  carved  post  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  and  effectually 
barring  the  way.  There  was  nothing  for  her  to  do  but  to 
listen  "I  have  tried  for  ages,  ever  since  I  came,  and  you 
never  will  give  me  a  chance." 

''Nonsense!  You  have  beeu  away.  How  could  you  ex- 
pect to  talk  to  me  if  you  went  away  ?" 

"  I  know;  but  I  had  to  go.  Besides,  you  wouldn't  have 
let  me  if  I  had  beeu  here." 

"Let  us  go  back  to  the  parlor.     It  is  almost  twelve." 
"  No,  I  want  you  here." 

Cyuthia  was  about  to  reply  defiantly,  bu  t  something  in 
Neal's  eyes  made  her  drop  her  own.  She  stood  there  in 
silence. 

"Cvuthia,  do  you  remember  that  day  on  the  river  in  the 
rain  ?" 
"Yes." 

"Do  you  remember  what  you  called  me  then  I" 
No  reply. 

"Tell  me,  Cyuth ;  do  you  remember  what  you  called 
me?" 

"Yes,"  very  low. 

"  Y'ou  called  me  a  coward.    Do  you  think  I  am  one  now  ?" 
"Oh  no." 

"But  yon  also  said  you  had  faith  iu  me,  Cyuthia;  and 
in  Philadelphia  that  spring  I  told  you  I  was  going  to  prove 
to  you  that  I  was  worthy  of  your  faith.     Do  you  think  I 
have,  Cyuthia  ?" 
"  Yes,  Neal." 

lie  said  nothing  for  a  minute.  Then  he  glanced  at  the 
old  clock  in  the  back  part  of  the  hall.  It  was  live  minutes 
of  twelve. 

"Come  to  the  hall  window,  Cynthia,"  he  said,  taking 
her  hand;  and  Cynthia  went  with  him.  "That  other 
New-year's  eve  we  stood  here  and  looked  out  ou  the  suow 
just  as  we're  doing  now.  Do  you  remember?" 

"And  I  made  good  resolutions  which  I  never  kept,"  said 
Cyuthia,  finding  her  voice  at  last.  "  Oh,  Neal,  my  bureau 
drawers  are  just  as  untidy  and  my  tongue  is  just  as  unruly 
as  ever!  I  make  the  same  good  resolutions  every  New- 
year's  eve,  but  I  always  break  them.  You  were  wiser. 
You  would  not  promise  that  night  wheu  I  wanted  you  to, 
but  you  have  done  a  great  deal  better  than  if  you  had." 

"  I  would  not  promise  wheu  I  should  have  done  so.  But 
won't  you  returu  good  for  evil,  Cyuthia,  and  promise  me 
something?  Promise  ine  that  before  many  more  New- 
year's  eves  have  come  aud  gone  you  will  be  my  wife  !  For 
I  love  you  —  love  you,  Cynthia!  I  have  loved  you  ever 
since  that  day  ou  the  river  —  iudeed,  long  before  that! 
Hark!  the  clock  is  beginning  to  strike.  Promise  before  it 
stops." 

And  Cyuthia  promised. 

Aud  the  old  clock  struck  twelve,  as  it  ha'd  done  thou- 
sands of  times  before,  and  the  old  year  died,  aud  for  us  the 
story  is  finished.  But  for  Xeal  and  Cynthia  a  new  year 
and  a  uew  life  were  dawning,  and  fur  them  the  story  had 
but  just  begun. 


RATHER  ODD. 

"  PAPA,"  said  Jimmieboy,  "you  are  the  nicest  man  in  the 
world." 

"  Aud  you-  are  the  nicest  boy  in  the  world,"  said  his 
father. 

"Yes;  I  guess  that's  so,"  said  Jimmieboy.  ''Isn't  it 
queer  how  we  both  managed  to  get  into  the  same  family." 


Point  Lobos.     Sutro  Heights.     Mortar  Battery. 


BIRD'S-EYE    VIEW    OF    THE    GOLDEN    GATE. 


Mining       Fort 
Station.     Point. 


THE  BOMBARDMENT  OF 
GATE. 


THE  GOLDEN 


BY  YATES  STIRLING,  JUN. 


This 


"  A    STRANGE  fleet  is  in  sight  to  the  westward." 

/\  is  the  startling  report  of  the  telephone  from  the 
Farallone  Islands,  situated  twenty-eight  miles  nearly  due 
west  of  San  Francisco.  The  General  receives  the  report 
without  a  sign  of  the  anxiety  he  feels,  and  continues  his 
sluily  of  the  huge  maps  before  him.  He  is  contemplating 
the  vast  amount  of  work  that  has  been  accomplished  in  the 
last  three  months  since  war  had  been  declared.  Then  San 
Francisco  had  been  a  defenceless  city  at  the  mercy  of  the 
most  insignificant  enemy ;  now  it  is  as  near  impregnable  as 
human  skill  and  ingenuity  can  make  it. 

The  General  takes  a  lingering  look  at  the  maps  on  his 
desk;  running  over  the  different  forts,  he  sees  with  pride 
that  there  is  nothing  left  undone. 

On  Point  Lobos,  the  southern  cape  of  the  outer  harbor, 
on  high  bluffs,  are  three  16-inch  rifles  mounted  on  disappear- 
ing carriages,  the  guns, in  the  loading  position, being  behind 
breastworks  of  eartli  and  concrete.  In  this  position  the  guns 
are  sighted,  then  going  up  to  the  firing  position  above  the 
earthwork  for  only  a  few  seconds  on  firing,  and  then  recoil- 
ing to  their  position  of  safety.  On  the  high  land  between 
Point  Lobos  and  Fort  Point  are  two  12-inch  and  two  10- 
Inch  rifles  in  Grueson  turrets,  thr  armor  consisting  of  eigh- 
teen inches  of  Harveyized  nirkrl  steel.  The  turrets  are 


HE   SEES    TUB    FAMOUS    "OREGON"    COME    RUSlli: 


segments  of  a  sphere,  and  are  manipulated  similarly  to 
those  on  a  battle-ship.  A  little  higher  up  is  one  of  the 
two  formidable  pneumatic  guns,  the  explosion  of  whose 
shell  within  twenty  yards  of  a  ship  would  send  her  to  the 
bottom.  At  Fort  Point,  the  southern  cape  of  the  Golden 
Gate,  in  earthworks  of  old  design  patched  up  and  strength- 
ened, are  four  10-inch  rifles  with  disappearing  carriages. 
On  the  northern  cape  of  the  Gate,  Point  Bonito,  are  three 
16-inch  rifles  mounted  in  a  similar  way.  The  second  pneu- 
matic terror  is  also  at  this  point,  commanding  the  entrance 
to  the  Gate.  Point  Diablo  is  fortified  with  three  12-inch 
anil  two  10-inch  rifles  on  disappearing  carriages,  and  Lime 
Point  will  defend  the  harbor  with  four  10-inch  rifles  mounted 
ill  the  same  way.  The  outer  harbor  seaward  of  Fort  Point 
and  Point  Diablo  has  been  well  mined,  making  it  impos- 
sible for  a  vessel  to  enter  in  safety  even  though  she  had 
escaped  the  tons  of  steel  hurled  at  her.  The  cables  from 
the  mines  are  led  to  a  central  station  on  the  bluffs  back  of 
Fort  Point.  If  by  chance  the  enemy's  ships  should  ride 
over  this  hidden  explosive,  the  simple  pressure  of  a  key  in 
this  station  would  send  them  all  to  destruction.  At  the 
mine  station  are.  two  observers,  who,  by  an  instrument  simi- 
lar to  a  range  finder,  discover  from  time  to  time  the  position 
of  the  enemy  on  their  chart.  When  the  unlucky  vessel  is 
over  a  mine  the  key  is  pressed. 

On  Sutro  Heights  is  a  heavily  armored  tower,  the  inside 
of  which  to  an  inexperienced  eye  would  appear  like  a  cen- 
tral telephone  station.  It.  is  the  General's  headquarters  in 
action.  From  here  he  and  bis 
start'  will  direct  and  control  the 
battle.  This  is  the  brain  of  the 
intricate  fortifications.  Tin- 
nerves  run  to  every  battery  and 
central  station,  making  it  but  the 
work  of  a  minute  to  transmit  or- 
ders to  any  point.  Before  another 
half-hour  has  slipped  away  every- 
thing is  activity  within  the  forts. 
The  wires  from  the  General's  tow- 
er are  busy  with  the  many  or- 
ders transmitted. 

Actual  hostilities  began  months 
ago  in  the  East,  but  as  yet  have 
not  laid  their  cruel  hand  on  the 
Pacific  slope.  New  York  has  been 
the  scene  of  most  of  the  strife. 

While  the  army  has  been  mak- 
ing the  Golden  Gate  a  fortress,  the 
navy  has  not  been  idle.  All  the 
fighting  ships  on  the  coast  have 
been  collected,  and  the  work  on 
the  new  ones  so  expedited  that  a 
formidable  fleet  has  been  massed 
in  the  harbor.  The  Oregon,  the 
only  first-class  battle-ship  of  tin- 
West,  cleared  for  action,  the  Ad- 
N  To  Tilt:  HC.IIT.  miml's blue tiagflyingather  truck, 


1084 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


is  lying  behind  Alcatraz 
Island;  made  fast  to  the 
•different  mooring-buoys  liy 
slip-ropes  is  the  rest  of  the 
Pacific  fleet.  The  Monterey, 
low  and  formidable,  is  near- 
est the  island,  barely  dis- 
tinguishable against  the 
dark  land ;  her  heavily 
armored  turrets,  bristling 
each  with  two  great  12-inch 
rilh's,  are  a  menace  to  any 
battle -ship.  The  Monail- 
noi'k.  a  double-tnrreted  ves- 
.sel,  is  close  to  the  Oregon; 
in  her  turrets  she'  carries 
two  12-inch  and  two  10-inch 
rifles,  and  inside  of  her  dark 
hull  are  brave  men  who 
will  show  the  enemy  that 
the  American  monitor  is  as 
deadly  a  foe  as  of  old.  The 
Oli/iitpid,  I'liiliuh'lpliift,  /><//- 
timore,  Charleston,  Beniiiiui- 
ton,  and  i'orktoiai,  all  pro- 
tected cruisers,  are  equally 

ready  to  do  battle  with  any  of  the  enemy  that  it  is  their 
duty  to  encounter. 

The  foreign  fleet  is  now  in  sight  from  Siitro  Heights. 
A  glance  through  (lie  powerful  telescope,  tells  the  General 
it  is  the  enemy — six  first-class  battle-ships  and  eight 
cruisers,  for  the  belligerent  country  depends  upon  the  cap- 
ture of  this  rich  city  to  defray  the  heavy  expense  of  the 
war. 

They  are  approaching  in  double  column,  the  battle-ships 
leading.  Nearer  and  nearer  they  come.  The  range-tinders 
at  the  different  batteries  show  the  range  is  rapidly  dimin- 
ishing. News  has  reached  San  Francisco,  and  the  high 
bluffs  about  the  city  are  thronged  with  an  excited  crowd. 
The  blue -coated  regulars  have  dispersed  from  the  little 
knots  about  the  guns,  and  have  gone  to  their  stations,  and 
stand  ready  at  the  command  to  open  the  greatest  battle 
the  West  has  ever  see.u.  On  the  ships  of  the  enemy  come, 
majestically  cutting  the  smooth  sea,  throwing  the  silvery 
spray  upon  their  bare  forecastles,  over  which  their  heavy 
turret  guns  are  to  soon  speak. 


"PREPAHE   TO   HAM." 


ANOTHER    IS    FORCED    TO    STRIKE    THE    WHITE    FLA(i. 


"Four  miles,  sir!"  reports  one  of  the  General's  aides. 
The  batteries  .at  Lobos  and  Bouito  are  ordered  to  open  tire. 
The  six  big  Ib'-inch  rifles  thunder  forth  their  challenge 
almost  simultaneously,  and  nearly  three  and  a  half  tons  of 
steel  go  speeding  toward  the  approaching  enemy.  All  eyes 
are  turned  seaward,  and  are  just  in  time  to  see  columns  of 
water  thrown  up  close  aboard  the  (in-coming  ships.  Again 
and  again  the  heavy  batteries  speak;  shot  after  shot  goes  on 
its  deadly  flight,  making  havoc  on  board  the  silent  vessels. 
The  fleet  is  approaching  at  nearly  fifteen-knot  speed ;  it 
will  take  them  but  eight  minutes  to  reach  the  range,  when 
tons  of  gun-cotton  will  be  sent  out  to  meet  them  both 
above  and  below  the  peaceful  sea.  They  are  heading  di- 
rectly for  the  entrance.  What  can  be  their  intention  ? 
Will  they  dare  attempt  to  run  the  forts?  Do  they  suppose 
the  harbor  is  clear  of  mines  and  they  have  naught  to  fear 
save  the  guns  ?  The  range-tinder  dials  point  to  4000  yards 
from  the  Gate.  All  the  guns  on  the  forts  are  blazing  forth 
tire,  but  the  gunners'  aims  are  poor,  and  the  better  part  of 
the  shuts  are  fruitlessly  ploughing  up  the  sea  in  the  vicinity 
of  theeuemy.  One  well-aimed  16-inch  sbellstrikes  home  on 
the  nearest  ship  ;  her  armor  is  pierced,  and  she  has  become 
unmanageable  and  drops  out  of  the  advancing  columns. 
Nearer  and  nearer  comes  the  fighting.  At  last  the 
dreaded  puft's  of  smoke  dart  from  the  battle-ships'  turrets, 
and  the  shells  are  coming  screeching  ashore,  tearing  np  the 
earth  in  the  fortifications.  With  a  glass  one  of  the  aides 
is  scanning  the  sea  at  the  entrance  to  the  harbor.  An  ex- 
clamation escapes  him  as  his  glass  focuses  on  some  object 
of  interest;  with  a  finger  trembling  with  emotion  he  points 
out  to  the  General  two  small  red  flags,  barely  distinguish- 
able on  the  water's  surface,  midway  between  Point  Lobos 
and  the  nearest  ship.  A  glance  shows  it  to  be  the  flags  on 
the  Sims-Edison  controllable  torpedo.  Out  it  goes  at  a 
terrific  speed;  nearer  and  nearer  it  approaches  its  intended 
victim.  Harmless  enough  look  these  small  pieces  of  limit- 
ing, but  underneath  the  water  not  many  feet  lurk  nc:nl\ 
five  hundred  pounds  of  deadly  gun-cotton.  It  has  pa»i  il 
astern  of  the  leading  ship.  Will  it  run  out  its  scope  and 
fail  ?  A  small  column  of  water  is  seen  to  ascend  from  the 
flags,  and  the  next  moment  the  second  battle-ship  is  nearly 
engulfed  in  a  mighty  explosion.  The  first  charge  tears  the 
torpedo  net ;  the  second  makes  one  less  ship  to  attack  the 
batteries,  for  she  is  fast  sinking.  The  gun-cotton  has  ex- 
ploded against  her  steel  hull.  A  cruiser  drops  out  to  render 
assistance. 

An  explosion  that  seems  like  an  earthquake  to  those 
in  the  fortifications  tells  that  the  first  gun-cotton  shell 
has  exploded  near  the  enemy.  One  of  the  leading  battle- 
ships heels  over  and  slowly  sinks  beneath  the  waves;  her 
seams  have  been  opened  by  the  force  of  the  explosion. 
The  enemy  now  is  in  irregular  formation,  more  nearly  like 


1085 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


double  echelon;  they  are  pouring  in  a  scathing  five  on  all 
tin-  lotteries.  As  they  approach  the  torpedo  range  they 
starboard  and  stand  out  to  sea,  bringing  to  bear  their 
after  turrets.  Some  of  their  shots  have  committed  awful 
havoc  ashore ;  gun  after  gun  has  been  dismounted,  one  of 
the  pneumatic  guns  has  been  struck  by  a  shell  arid  is  a 
total  wreck.  The  remaining  controllable  torpedoes  have 
failed. 

The  pneumatic  gun  on  Point  Bonito  is  aimed  at  the  near- 
est ship,  but  a  mile  and  a  half  away  ;  the  gauge  on  the  ac- 
cumulator shows  the  air  pressure  is  sufficient.  The  lever 
is  tripped,  and  the  quarter-ton  of  gun-cotton,  with  a  whir, 
is  hurled  on  its  errand  of  destruction.  The  eye  can  dis- 
tinguish the  aerial  torpedo  as  it  soars  to  the  height  of  its 
trajectory,  and  then  majestically  and  swiftly  steals  down 
toward  its  helpless  prey.  Will  it  explode  ?  It  strikes  the 
water  a  few  yards  from  the  target,  but  the  looked-for  ex- 
plosion does  not  follow ;  the  fuse  has  failed.  The  next 
minute  every  gun  of  the  enemy  is  trained  upon  this  terrible 
weapon,  knowing  that  if  the  shell  is  again  let  loose  their 
ships  will  be  like  chaff  before  this  tremendous  power.  The 
enemy  is  now  confident  of  victory  Signals  go  up  on  the 
flag-ship,  and  in  a  very  few  minutes  the  old  formation  is  re- 
sumed, and  ouce  again  they  head  for  the  harbor. 

The  firing  becomes  hot  and  furious ;  broadside  after  broad- 
side belches  forth  from  the  enemy's  steel  sides ;  a  few  shells 
go  wide  into  the  city,  and  dense  columns  of  black  smoke  from 
the  buildings  set  on  fire  lend  a  more  awesome  aspect  to  the 
picture  depicted. 

The  observers  at  the  mining-station  are  nervous  with 
the  suppressed  excitement  within  them.  The  ships  of  the 
enemy  plot  on  their  chart  only  eight  hundred  yards  away 
from  their  mines.  Will  it  be  their  fortune  to  decide  the 
fate  of  the  Golden  City  ?  The  ships  still  advance.  Soon  they 
will  bo  over  the  mines.  A  pressure  of  the  key  under  the 
hand  will  discharge  tons  of  the  hidden  explosive. 

But  the  enemy  has  stopped.  What  does  this  foretell  ? 
Five  hundred  yards  from  the  mines  the  ships  are  nearly 
motionless  in  the  troubled  sea  lashed  to  foam  by  the  plough- 
ing of  so  much  steel. 

All  the  batteries  are  now  doing  splendid  work.  Explosion 
follows  explosion  on  board  the  intruding  ships.  Two  cruis- 
ers are  unmanageable  and  on  fire  ;  they  drift  onto  the  rocks 
almost  within  a  stone's  throw  of  one  of  the  batteries.  Sud- 
denly torpedoes  shoot  from  the  bow  tubes  of  the  leading 
ships,  and  a  few  moments  afterward  tremendous  columns 
of  water  are  seen  to  rise  from  the  bay,  and  the  next  second 
the  sound  of  a  might3T  discharge  reaches  the  expectant  ears 
of  the  defenders  of  the  Gate.  The  officer  at  the  mining- 
key  knows  from  the  spark  that  jumps  across  under  his 
baud  that  the  enemy  has  countermined  and  the  harbor  is 
clear.  The  struggle  has  come  to  such  close  quarters  that 
the  rapid-tire  and  machine  gun  tire  lends  its  sharp  cracking 
report  to  the  dull  roar  of  the  heavy  guns. 

But  the  foe  has  stopped  too  long!  The  mortar  battery 
on  Lobos  has  gotten  his  range.  Suddenly  with  a  whir  a 
column  of  smoke  rises  in  the  air  just  over  the  bay,  and  a 
bunch  of  16-inch  mortar  shells  falls  upon  the  battle-ships' 
unprotected  decks.  One  shell  strikes  over  the  boilers  of 
one  of  the  ships,  penetrating  them  a  second  later,  the  ex- 
plosion of  which  rends  her  asunder;  and  where  this  power- 
ful steel  -  clad  had  been  but  a  moment  before  is  but  the 
hissing  foam  of  troubled  waters. 

The  General  sees  the  fight  has  now  reached  the  critical 
point ;  the  cruisers  have  dashed  ahead  and  will  soon  be 
within  the  harbor.  Many  of  the  batteries  have  been  put 
out  of  action  by  the  well-aimed  shots  of  the  enemy.  The 
navy  is  needed,  but  the  telephone  connection  with  the 
station  has  been  severed;  the  signal  has  not  been  made. 
Time  is  precious.  A  few  minutes  more,  and  the  whole  fleet 
will  be  within  the  bay  of  San  Francisco,  and,  without,  the 
batteries,  will  be  more  than  a  match  for  the  few  United 
States  ships. 

An  exclamation  involuntarily  escapes  from  the  General's 
lips  as  he  sees  the  famous  Oregon  emerge  from  behind 
Alcatraz  Island,  and  come  rushing  down  to  the  fight. 

The  small  fleet  was  thought  too  valuable  to  hazard  against 
such  as  the  enemy  brought.  The  plan  was  not  to  expose 


it  till  the  signal  was  made.  But  the  Admiral,  behind  Alca- 
traz Island,  has  been  pacing  up  and  down  the  deck  of  his 
battle-ship,  tugging  at  the  restraining  bonds,  growing  more 
and  more  impatient  as  the  cannonading  has  become  more 
furious.  The  crews  of  the  ships  feel  the  inactivity  keenly  ; 
anything  is  better  than  this  suspense.  Why  does  not  the 
signal  come?  The  Admiral  will  wait  no  longer,  but  slips 
his  moorings,  regardless  of  consequences,  and  appears  in 
the  nick  of  time  with  his  fleet  to  bar  the  entrance  to  the  bay. 

The  Oregon,  Monterey,  and  Mouailnock  engage  the  two  re- 
maining battle-ships.  There  is  no  sea-room  for  manoeu- 
vring, aud  the  rapid  way  in  which  the  Yankee  guns  are 
served  shows  that  they  are  more  than  a  match  fortheir  huge 
enemies.  The  cruisers  have  closed  in  for  the  death-struggle; 
every  weapon  of  modern  warfare  is  being  employed ;  two 
ships  of  the  foe  and  one  of  his  opponent's  have  been  tor- 
pedoed, and  in  another  moment  one  of  ours  rams  their  big- 
gest battle-ship.  The  General  on  shore  can  almost  hear 
the  command,  "  Prepare  to  ram."  It  is  so  quickly  and 
skilfully  executed.  The  forts  have  now  become  inactive, 
fearing  to  fire  lest  by  chance  one  of  their  own  ships  might 
be  struck. 

The  enemy  suddenly  begins  to  retreat,  leaving  two  of  his 
ships  on  the  rocks,  while  another  is  forced  to  strike  the 
white  flag. 

Night  has  come  on.  The  sun  has  an  hour  ago  gone  be- 
low the  western  horizon.  The  evening  fog-bank  comes  in 
and  mingles  with  the  battle  smoke  about  the  silent  bat- 
teries, which  only  a  short  time  before  were  the  scene  of 
bloodshed  and  war.  The  brave  defenders  may  sleep  in 
peace  in  their  blankets  and  hammocks.  The  pride  of  the 
enemy  has  been  humbled,  and  the  beautiful  city  of  San 
Francisco  is  safe  from  torch  aud  shell. 


SHARK-CATCHING   IN  MID-OCEAN. 

BY  A.   J.  KENEALY. 

THE  Rajali  made  good  progress  south,  the  northeast 
trades  blowing  her  thither  swiftly.  We  were  fast 
approaching  the  belt  of  calms,  squalls,  rain,  and  variable 
winds  known  to  sailors  as  the  "doldrums." 

The  skipper  had  four  coops  of  fat  ducks  which  he  tended 
with  loving  care.  He  just  doted  on  them  slutted  with 
sage  and  onions,  and  while  they  were  being  roasted  he  used 
to  hang  about  the  galley  enjoying  the  savory  odors  that 
escaped  from  the  oven.  One  morning  while  it  was  raining 
as  though  the  gates  of  heaven  had  been  opened  wide  the 
Captain  thought  he  would  give  his  pets  a  treat.  The  ship 
was  heeling  over  considerably,  being  close-hauled  on  the 
starboard  tack,  with  all  her  flying  kites  dowsed  to  the  puffy 
breeze.  He  ordered  the  lee  scuppers  to  be  plugged  up,  and 
as  soon  as  a  sufficiently  large  pool  had  collected  on  deck, 
he  liberated  the  ducks  so  that  they  might  enjoy  the  luxury 
of  a  fresh-water  bath.  The  ducks  were  delighted,  and  de- 
monstrated their  joy  by  noisy  quacks.  The  pigs  in  the 
pens  forward  responded  with  joyous  squeaks.  The  cocks 
and  hens  in  the  long-boat  joined  in  with  a  merry  chorus  of 
crows  and  cackles.  The  combined  music  was  that  of  a 
barn-yard. 

The  ship  heeled  over  until  the  scuppers  were  awash.  The 
weight  of  all  the  fresh  water  on  deck  as  the  ship  inclined 
to  the  squall  aud  rose  on  the  next  wave  was  thrown  against 
a  lee  port  aft  near  which  the  ducks  were  disporting  them- 
selves. Now  it  happened  that  the  lashing  of  this  port  was 
only  of  spun-yarn,  rotten  at  that.  The  wash  of  the  water 
against  the  port  parted  the  lashing,  swung  the  port  wide 
open,  and  away  went  a  dozen  of  the  ducks  into  the  sea 
with  a  great  whir  of  wings  and  clamorous  cackling. 

One  of  the  sailors  closed  and  secured  the  port  before  any 
more  of  the  birds  escaped.  Then  the  rest  of  the  watch 
came  aft,  running  helter-skelter  at  the  hurried  hail  of  the 
mate,  and  drove  the  rest  of  the  flock  into  their  pen.  Had 
there  been  the  slightest  chance  of  capturing  the  runaways 
the  Captain  would  have  backed  tue  main-topsail,  hove  the 
ship  to,  and  lowered  the  quarter-boat. 

Meanwhile  the  wind  had  died  out.  The  sails  flapped 
lazily  again-st  the  mast,  and  the  ship  rolled  sluggishly  on 


1086 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


the  heaving  bosom  of  old  ocean.  The  clouds  rolled  away, 
and  the  pitiless  burning  sun  shone  down  on  the  deck  and 
dried  up  all  the  moisture  on  wood  and  rope  in  a  few  min- 
utes. It  was  one  of  those  sudden  meteorological  changes 
so  common  in  equatorial  latitudes.  An  awning  was  rigged 
up  over  the  man  at  the  wheel.  The  skipper  put  on  a  huge 
topee,  or  Indian  pith  helmet,  to  shelter  his  head  from  the 
sweltering  rays  which  made  the  pitch  boil  and  bubble  up 
iu  the  seams  of  the  main-deck,  and  promised  plenty  of  work 
for  the  carpenter's  calking-irons. 

The  ducks,  obeying  a  sort  of  homing  instinct,  I  suppose, 
swam  up  to  the  now  almost  motionless  ship,  and  continued 
their  sport  nearly  within  a  stone's  throw.  Suddenly  a 
bright  idea  struck  the  skipper. 

"  See  the  lee  quarter-boat  clear  for  lowering!"  he  shout- 
ed to  the  second  mate.  Then  he  put  his  head  down  the 
cabiu  skylight  and  ordered  the  steward  to  bring  up  his 
breech-loader  and  a  lot  of  cartridges.  The  boat  was  low- 
ered and  manned.  A  side  ladder  was  rigged;  the  Captain 
with  his  gun  descended  and  took  up  a  position  in  the  bow, 
from  which  he  directed  operations.  The  cockswain  seized 
the  tiller-ropes.  "  Shove  oft  let  fall  give  way !"  he  cried,  all 
iu  one  breath,  without  any  regard  to  punctuation,  so  excited 
was  he,  and  in  such  a  hurry  to  get  within  guushot  of  the 
durks.  If  be  could  not  catch  them  alive,  he  meant  to  have 
them  dead. 

The  boat  was  headed  for  the  flock.  When  withiu  easy 
range  the  skipper  let  them  have  it  right  and  left.  His  aim 
was  so  good  that  be  brought  down  three.  It  took  some 
time  to  pick  them  up,  which  gave  the  scared  flock  an  op- 
portunity to  get  out  of  gunshot.  None  others,  as  it  hap- 
pened,were  fated  to  fall  victims  to  the  deadly  breech-loader 
of  our  sportsman-skipper.  The  dorsal  fins  of  six  sharks 
were  observed  sticking  up  above  the  surface  of  the  water, 
and  converging  from  different  directions  on  the  doomed 
ducks.  Sharks  are  abundant  in  equatorial  waters,  and 
they  follow  ships  for  miles.  Some  of  them  are  very  large. 
All  are  voracious  and  ugly  customers  to  tackle. 

The  way  those  sharks  gobbled  up  those  ducks  was  a  sight 
to  behold.  They  were  disposed  of  in  three  minutes.  The 
Captain  was  terribly  angry.  He  tried  to  revenge  himself 
by  peppering  the  sharks  with  shot,  but  it  is  doubtful  if  the 
leaden  pellets  made  the  slightest  impression  on  their  tough 
hides,  even  if  he  succeeded  in  hitting  them. 

The  boat  pulled  back  to  the  ship,  and  was  hoisted  to  the 
davits.  The  calm  continued.  Four  of  the  sharks  came  up 
alongside,  eager  for  more  ducks.  Such  appetizing  fare  was 
seldom  theirs.  Stray  garbage  from  passing  ships,  flotsam 
from  the  forecastle,  composed  the  diet  upon  which  they 
usually  depended  iu  addition  to  their  steady  prey  offish. 
The  Captain  brooded  over  the  loss  of  his  ducks  for  some 
time.  Then  he  made  up  his  mind  to  have  a  little  shark- 
fishing,  and  thus  combine  revenge  and  recreation. 

He  sent  below  for  a  brand-new  shark-hook  with  a  sharp 
and  cruel  barb.  To  the  ring  of  the  hook  was  attached  a 
stout  chain  a  fathom  long.  A  shark's  teeth  are  so  sharp 
and  strong  that  they  can  bite  through  the  stoutest  rope 
with  singular  ease.  To  the  end  of  the  chain  the  skipper 
bent  on  a  two-and-a-half-inch  manilla  line,  and  having  im- 
paled a  four-pound  piece  of  pork  on  the  hook,  hove  it  over- 
board, with  the  remark  that  he  intended  to  have  a  slice  of 
fresh  shark  for  supper. 

The  sharks  were  playing  about  the  rudder  on  the  look- 
out for  any  stray  trifles  that  might  come  along  their  way 
from  a  sailor  down  to  a  beef  bone.  They  are  not  at  all 
fastidious  or  dainty.  It  was  my  first  experience  of  shark- 
fishing,  and  I  was  a  keen  and  interested  observer.  The 
water  was  so  clear  that  I  could  watch  every  motion  of  the 
four  monsters  as  they  swam  slowly  about,  each  one  at- 
tended by  his  own  particular  body-guard  of  pilot-fish — 
pretty  little  creatures  shaped  something  like  perch,  with 
blue  vertical  stripes.  Ichthyologists  declare  that  these  fish 
attend  the  shark  for  the  purpose  of  preying  upon  the  para- 
sites that  infest  him.  This  may  be  a  true  explanation, 
but  I  cannot  understand  how  it  is  that  a  hungry  deep-sea 
shark,  that  will  snap  up  anything  living  or  dead,  permits 
these  plump  little  fish  to  play  unscathed  about  his  enor- 
mous jaws.  There  are  other  curious  things  about  these 


AWAY    WENT    A    DOZEN   OF    THE    DUCKS    INTO    THE    SEA. 


pilot-fish  that  nattu-alists  cannot  explain.  They  only  at- 
tach themselves  to  the  pelagic  species  found  in  deep  water; 
there  are  always  five  or  seven  of  them  to  each  shark,  never 
an  even  number;  they  stick  to  the  shark  while  he  is  floun- 
dering about  in  the  water  with  a  hook  through  his  jaws, 
but  as  soon  as  he  is  hoisted  above  the  surface  of  the  sea 
they  immediately  disappear.  Nobody  knows  what  becomes 
of  them. 

I  have  had  several  good  opportunities  of  studying  the 
habits  of  sharks,  and  have  always  been  curious  about  them. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  very  little  is  known  concerning  the 
ocean  variety,  which  is  quite  distinct  from  that  of  the 
shore. 

No  sooner  had  the  pork  plashed  into  the  sea  than  one  of 
the  rapacious  monsters  made  a  rush  for  it.  The  remark- 
able velocity  of  this  fish  was  surprising  to  me,  who  had 
never  before  seen  a  deep-sea  shark  in  his  native  element. 
The  water  was  so  beautifully  limpid  that  his  every  action 
could  be  accurately  observed.  I  thought  he  would  gorge 
the  bait  immediately,  but  he  did  not.  When  he  came  up 
with  it,  he  made  a  sudden  stop.  Then  he  sniffed  at  it  with 
an  air  of  expectant  and  suspicious  curiosity.  The  next 
thing  he  did  was  to  turn  his  tail  to  it  contemptuously,  and 
swim  away  a  considerable  distance. 

"Watch  him  make  a  dart  for  it  now,"  said  the  skipper, 
who  was  an  old  hand  at  shark-catching. 

Like  a  flash  the  huugry  fish  went  for  the  tempting  bait, 
turning  over  so  that  he  might  grasp  it  more  conveniently 
with  his  wide  and  cruel  jaws.  In  an  instant  it  was  en- 
gulfed in  his  maw.  And  then  there  was  such  a  floundering 
and  threshing  iu  the  water  as  I  had  never  before  seen.  The 
fierce  shark,  maddened  with  the  pain  of  the  sharp  book, 
made  frantic  but  fruitless  efforts  to  escape.  He  snapped 
savagely  at  the  strong  chain  attached  to  the  hook,  with 
the  sole  result  of  damaging  his  own  cruel-looking  teeth. 
Meanwhile  the  fish  had  been  dragged  forward  to  the  star- 
board gangway  in  spite  of  his  wild  struggles.  A  running 
bowline  was  sent  down  the  line  that  held  him,  and  as  the 
shark  was  hoisted  over  the  side  it  was  passed  over  his 
body  and  hnnled  taut  round  his  tail,  in  order  to  control 
the  movements  of  this  his  most  formidable  weapon.  In- 
stances have  been  known  of  a  blow  from  a  shark's  tail 
breaking  a  man's  leg  on  the  deck  of  a  vessel  immediately 
after  being  hauled  in  over  the  side. 

This  fish  in  qnestiou  was  gigantic.  It  took  eight  men 
to  hoist  him  inboard.  "  Chips,"  the  carpenter,  stood  by 
with  a  keen  axe,  and  as  soon  as  Mr.  Shark's  struggling  car- 
cass was  landed  on  the  deck,  with  one  powerful  blow  he 
severed  his  tail  from  his  body,  and  thus  incapacitated  him 
from  mischief.  From  time  immemorial  it  has  been  the  ship 
carpenter's  privilege  and  duty  to  out  ofl'  the  tails  of  all 


108? 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


'WATCH    HIM    MAKE    A    DAHT    FOR    IT    NOW,"   SAID    THE    SKIPPER. 


sharks  captured  during  a  deep-sea  voyage,  and  the  cook 
generally  despatches  him  much  after  the  fashion  of  a  .Jap- 
anese when  lie  performs  on  himself  the  queer  right  of 
hari-kari. 

"Chips, "said  the  skipper, addressing  the  carpenter,  "he- 
fore  yon  cut  that  shark  up,  just  pull  that  rule  out  of  your 
pocket  and  measure  him.  He  seems  quite  a  big  fellow." 

And  a  big  fellow  he  proved  to  be,  measuring  30  feet  8J 
inches  long.  The  Captain  said  he  was  the  largest  one 
In',  had  ever  seen,  but  the  chief  mate  declared  he  had  once 
captured  one  that  measured  38  feet,  and  he  had  sailed  with 
a  skipper  who  had  hauled  one  in-board  that  was  fully  40 
feet  in  length.  As  a  matter  of  fact, specimens  of  pelagic 
sharks  are  displayed  in  museums  that  exceed  40  feet,  but 
they  are  very  rare.  In  Florida  varieties  of  fossil  sharUs 
have  been  dug  np  whose  length  "over  all"  averages  more 
than  50  feet,  but  these  are  now  happily  extinct. 

Seafaring  men  are  not  as  a  rule  a  bloodthirsty  race,  but 
they  look  upon  sharks  as  their  natural  enemies,  and  against 
them  they  wage  relentless  warfare;  and  whenever  one  is 
hooked  they  rejoice  with  an  exuberant  pleasure,  and  will 
sacrifice  their  watch  below  in  order  to  see  him  cut  and 
carved.  There  is  also  much  curiosity  with  regard  to  the 
contents  of  his  interior.  I  once  had  for  a  shipmate  a  man 
who  swore  hard  and  fast  that  he  once  found  in  a  shark  a 
ship's  chronometer  that  was  still  ticking.  He  was  quite  a 
truthful  man  too,  but  somehow  I  never  believed  that  yarn. 
Of  course  a  shark  is  one  of  the  most  ravenous  and  rapacious 
of  fishes,  and  queer  articles  have  undoubtedly  been  dis- 
covered in  their  stomachs. 

Inside  the  one  just  caught  there  were  two  of  the  Cap- 
tain's ducks,  and  not  a  morsel  of  anything  else,  which  prob- 
ably accounted  for  the  greed  with  which  he  swallowed  the 
t'oiir-piiiiiid  chunk  of  briny  pork.  It  is  a  tradition  among 
sailors  ili.ii  sharks  will  not  bite  at  a  piece  of  beef,  and  I 
never  heard  of  one  being  hooked  with  any  bovine  bait.  In 
this  the  shark  shows  excellent  taste  and  judgment,  for  the 
"salt  junk"  served  out  to  seafarers  is  by  no  means  a  suc- 
culent or  dainty  dish.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  have  known 
a  sailor  to  whittle  out  of  it  a  fair  model  of  the  hull  of  a  ship, 
and  to  dry  it  in  the  snn  for  two  or  three  weeks,  when  it 
would  come  out  for  all  the  world  as  hard  as  a  block  of  ma- 


hogany, which  it 
resembled  —  and 
this  too  after  the- 
beef  had  been  boil- 
ed for  hours  in  the 
cook's  coppers ! 

The  Captain  or- 
dered the  cook  to 
cut  otf  the  fins  and 
prepare,  them  for 
his  own  particular 
use  after  the  Chi- 
nese fashion,  the 
almond-eyed  Ce- 
lestials esteeming 
them  as  an  espe- 
cial dainty.  Then 
he  carved  two  long 
cutlets  from  the 
back,  which  he 

kalso  ordered  to  be 
* ,^f'  cooked  for  his  sup- 

per. The  rest  of 
the  linge  carcass 
he  surrendered  to 
the  crew.  The 

boatswain  cut  out 
the  heart  of  the 
shark,  which  was 
still  palpitating, 
and  placed  it  in  a 
tin  dish.  He  told 
me,  it  would  con- 
tinue to  beat  till 
sundown,  when  it 
would  suddenly 

become  motionless.  I  did  not  lielieve  him,  and  told 
him  so,  but  he  prophesied  truly.  I  watched  that  throbbing 
heart  pretty  closely  for  several  hours.  It  beat  firmly  and 
regularly  nutil  the  upper  rim  of  the  sun  disappeared  be- 
neath the  western  horizon.  Then  it  made  a  sudden  stop,, 
and  became  limp  and  pulseless.  This  may  seem  a  yarn  fit 
only  to  tell  to  the  marines,  but  it  is  gospel  truth  on  the 
word  of  a  sailor.  I  have  told  the  story  to  scientific  men,  but 
they  have  pooh-poohed  at  it,  and  declared  it  to  have  been- 
impossible.  But  then  it  was  not  to  be  supposed  that  they 
would  know  anything  about  sharks,  having  got  all  their 
knowledge  from  musty  books  instead  of  from  the  sea  itself. 
Old  sailors  who  have  crossed  the  line  will,  however,  cor- 
roborate me  as  to  this  phenomenon. 

The  carpenter  claimed  the  backbone,  which  he  fashioned 
into  a  quite  handsome  walking-stick  by  impaling  the  finest 
sections  of  the  spine  on  a  slender  bar  of  steel.  And  I  may 
as  well  tell  yon  that  the  "shark  walking-canes  "  so  fre- 
quently offered  in  South  Street  by  impostors  disguised  as 
hardy  mariners  are  as  a  rule  made  of  sections  of  ox  tails, 
prepared  in  a  very  cunning  manner,  and  well  calculated  to 
deceive  the  inexperienced. 

The  Captain  gave  me  the  jaws,  which  were  immense.  I 
boiled  them  all  night  in  a  big  kettle  until  all  the  flesh  fell 
off  them  and  they  shone  like  ivory.  I  preserved  them  for 
many  years  as  a  souvenir  of  my  first  deep-sea  voyage  and 
of  the  first  shark  I  had  seen  hooked. 

The  tail  was  nailed  in  triumph  to  the  end  of  the  flying- 
jib-boom,  replacing  one  of  much  smaller  dimensions  that 
had  long  braved  both  wind  and  weather.  Sailors  think 
that  a  shark's  tail  at  the  extreme  end  of  a  ship's  "  nose-pole" 
is  the  harbinger  of  good  luck.  While  these  things  were 
Ijeiug  done  the  rest  of  the  shark's  carcass  was  thrown  over- 
board for  his  mates  to  gorge  upon.  The  only  people  aboard 
the  Bajah  that  ate  shark  for  supper  that  night  were  the 
Captain  and  the  spinner  of  this  yarn.  The  skipper  feasted 
on  the  fins,  followed  by  a  big  dish  of  cutlets.  Of  the  last- 
named  delicacy  I  partook  very  sparingly,  I  warrant  you, 
being  actuated  less  by  appetite  than  by  curiosity.  Not 
being  an  accomplished  ichthyophagist  like  my  Captain,! 
am  forced  to  confess  that  I  found  his  flesh  to  be  not  only- 
flavorless  but  coarse. 


1088 


5INTERSCHOEASTIC* 
tSPORTt 


IT  IS  AN  EXCELLENT  thing  for  yonng  men  to  be  eager  and 
enthusiastic  in  their  pursuit  of  sport,  but  they  should 
never  allow  their  eagerness  and  enthusiasm  to  get  the 
better  of  them.  In  a  hotly  contested  game  it  is  sometimes 
impossible  for  spectators  to  retain  that  composure  which 
lends  dignity  to  the  Supreme  Court,  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
we  should  never  allow  our  partisanship  to  carry  us  beyond 
the  bounds  of  good  behavior.  I  don't  -want  to  preach  a 
sermon  here  on  the  etiquette  of  sport,  because  I  am  fully 
aware  that,  my  readers  know  just  as  much  about  the  subject 
as  I  do ;  I  merely  want  to  urge  them  now  to  act  on  the 
grand  stand,  or  along  the  ropes,  or  in  the  field  itself  just  as 
in  calmer  moments  they  know  they  ought  to  act,  and  feel 
confident  that  they  will. 

IN  LOOKING  OVER  A  BUNDLE  of  school  papers  the  other 
day.  I  came  across  an  editorial  which  started  me  to  thinking 
about  the  behavior  of  spectators  aud  players  at  school 
games,  and  1  want  to  quote  a  portion  of  it.  It  does  not 
matter  what  particular  schools  are  under  discussion,  and  so 
I  have  eliminated  their  names  from  the  paragraph,  substi- 
tuting A  and  B,  but  otherwise  the  quotation  is  taken  word 
for  word.  I  did  not  write  it  myself. 

There  is  one  thing  that  we  must  condemn,  and  condemn 
very  strongly,  too,  and  that  is  the  ungentlemanly  conduct  on  the 
part  of  our  boys,  in  jeering  their  opponents  and  trying  to  rattle 
their  contestants.  It  is  true  that  the  "A"  School  started  this, 
but  this  is  no  excuse  for  the  boys  to  so  far  forget  themselves  ami 
their  school,  and  act  like  anything  but  gentlemen.  The  boys  feel 
somewhat  justified  in  the  act,  in  that  they  did  not  begin  jeering 
for  quite  a  while  after  the  "  A  "  School  had  started,  but,  at  no 
time  and  for  no  cause  are  they  excusable  for  forgetting  that  they 
are  gentlemen.  But  to  cap  ail  this,  a  free  fight  was  engaged  in 
after  the  field  day  on  some  trivial  cause.  The  less  said  about 
this  the  better,  but  we  very  strongly  condemn  the  conduct  of 
both  the  "  B  "  and  "  A  "  schools  in  the  field  day  on  Saturday. 

THE  OCCURRENCES  REFERRED  TO  ABOVE  took  place  at  a 
track-athletic  meeting,  but  they  might  just  as  well  have 
happened  at  a  football  or  a  baseball  game.  The  two 
schools  are  rivals  in  sport,  and  the  single  aim  of  each  is  to 
defeat  the  other.  This  spirit  is  commendable  and  should 
be  encouraged,  and  I  know  of  no  one  who  will  yell  louder 
aud  longer  for  his  own  side  than  I  will.  But  when  it  comes 
to  jeering,  we  must  draw  the  line.  It  is  unsportsmanlike, 
aud  that  means  that  it  is  ungentlemanly,  cowardly,  and  in- 
decent. We  go  into  sport  in  order  that  the  best  man  may 
win,  and  if  the  best  man  is  on  the  other  side,  this  may  be  a 
disappointment,  but  it  is  never  a  disgrace.  If  we  start  in 
to  jeer  at  the  best  man's  efforts  we  are  openly  trying  to  pre- 
vent him  from  winning,  which  is  conduct  directly  opposite 
to  the  motives  that  led  us  to  encourage  the  competition. 
It  is  as  cowardly  to  jeer  at,  an  opponent  as  it,  is  to  adopt 
unfair  means  to  defeat  him;  and  any  act  calculated  aud 
intended  to  injure  the  chances  of  an  antagonist  is  un- 
sportsmanlike. 

As  TO  THE  PARTICULAR  CASE  mentioned  in  the  editorial, 
I  can  make  no  comment  beyond  what  has  already  been  said, 
except  that  lighting  after  a  friendly  contest  is  wholly  irrec- 
oncilable to  sport.  I  don't  know,  of  course,  whether  there 
•was  an  actual  tight  or  not.  The  editor  may  have  exagger- 
ated; let  us  hope  that  he  did.  But  to  allow  one's  feelings 
to  get,  the  upper  baud  in  sport  is  always  a  sign  of  wealc- 
ness,  and  persons  of  such  weak  character  as  not  to  be  able 
to  restrain  their  passions  should  not  indulge  in  sport. 
They  do  not  belong  among  sportsmen. 

THERE  is  NOTHING  BETTER  than  athletic  contests  to  de- 
velop character  and  to  teach  a  man  to  restrain  himself. 


Aside  from  all  ethics  in  the  matter,  and  looking  at  the  case 
purely  from  the  point  of  view  of  securing  advantage,  it  is 
better  to  be  able  to  master  one's  passions  and  feelings.  The 
man  who  loses  his  temper  on  the  football  field,  and  begins 
to  "slug"  his  opponent,  or  to  adopt  mean  methods  of  play, 
invariably  weakens  his  own  efforts,  because  he  is  giving 
more  thought  to  his  spite  than  he  is  to  his  game.  Of  two 
teams  absolutely  evenly  matched  iu  every  physical  respect, 
the  team  whose  members  keep  cool  and  collected,  and  do 
not  lose  their  tempers,  is  bound  to  win  every  time.  It  is 
so  in  everything;  in  business  the  same  as  in  sport.  There- 
fore, let  me  repeat  that  whereas  enthusiasm  and  eagerness 
cannot  be  too  highly  commended,  any  display  of  ill-feeling 
or  displeasure  iu  sport  cannot  be  too  severely  condemned. 

AT  A  NUMBER  OF  SCHOOLS  it  is  the  custom  to  allow  in- 
structors to  play  on  the  football  and  baseball  teams,  aud 
these  instructors  frequently  go  into  match  games  against 
other  school  teams.  Such  a  system,  of  course,  is  bad  ;  but 
it  is  fortunate  that  it  is  not  countenanced  at  those  institu- 
tions which  hold  a  prominent  place  in  the  interscholastic 
world.  It  is  mostly  at  small  private  schools  that,  the  teach- 
ers play,  but  the  principle  is  the  same.  In  the  first  place, 
a  man  who  is  old  enough  to  be  a  professor  is  too  old  to 
play  against  boys.  He  outclasses  them  in  experience  and 
in  strength,  and  it  is  unfair  to  pit  such  a  player  against  a 
young  athlete  who  has  gone  into  sport  for  the  sake  of  try- 
ing his  skill  against  his  equals.  It  is  also  discouraging  to 
any  team  of  young  men  to  have  to  face  opponents  among 
whom  there  may  be  one  or  more  college  graduates.  The 
mere  presence  of  an  older  man  on  a  boys'  team  serves  to 
overawe  the  other  side. 

A  CAPTAIN  is  PERFECTLY  justified  in  refusing  to  play 
against  any  school  team  that  puts  an  instructor  or  pro- 
fessional trainer  into  the  field  with  the  school  players.  In 

Crftne,  r.  e.  Cheney,  h.-b.  Eliaaon,  h.-b.  Ellsworth,  h.-b. 

Cook,  r.  t.  Babcock.  m'er.     Holland,  I.e.         Warner,  f.-b.     Savage,  I.  e. 


Brown,  r.g.     MoK-1vey,.4.-l, ,  Capt.     His™,,:.         McCortnick,  1. 1. 

THE    HOTCHKISS    SCHOOL    FOOTBALL    ELEVEN. 


1089 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


fact,  I  should  strongly  urge  every  Captain  of  a  school  team 
to  refuse  to  arrange  games  with  any  institution  where  the 
professor  habit  prevails,  and  to  retire  from  any  contest  in 
which  the  opponents  propose  to  play  an  older  man.  A  few 
years  ago  there  was  a  school  team  in  Pennsylvania  that 
won  most  of  its  baseball  games  simply  because  the  pitcher 
was  so  much  superior  to  any  school  pitcher  the  team  ever 
met.  and  so  much  better  an  all -round  player  than  any 
school-boy  could  be,  that  their  opponents  had  no  chance. 
That  was  not  sport.  There  was  no  glory  in  those  victories. 
The  school  team  did  not  win.  It  was  the  professor  against 
the  field.  He  was  a  graduate  of  Williams  College,  I  think, 
and  had  been  the  crack  pitcher  of  his  year  among  college 
baseball  teams.  But  I  think  that  he  no  longer  performs 
for  that  school,  and  I  believe  that  the  boys  there  have  a 
truer  appreciation  of  the  ethics  of  sport  now,  and  fight 
their  own  battles  on  the  diamond  and  on  the  gridiron. 

IT  is  ALL  VERY  PROPER  for  instructors  who  were  athletes 
in  college  to  give  the  scholars  at  the  school  they  teach  in 
the  benefit  of  their  experience  by  coaching  the  players,  and 
even  by  going  out  on  the  field  and  playing  against  the  first 
school' team.  But  they  should  always  play  against  the 
team,  uot  with  it,  except  for  the  purpose  of  demonstrating 
a  play.  By  coaching  the  school  players  they  are  doiug 
much  good  for  the  school  team  and  for  sport.  But  by 
joining  the  school  players  in  games  against  other  schools 
they  do  injury  both  to  the  players  and  to  the  cause  of 
sport. 

THK  ABSURD  REPORTS  WHICH  APPEARED  ill  some  of  the 
New  York  daily  papers  concerning  the  injury  received  by 
Captain  Myuderse,  of  the  Betts  Academy  team,  in  the  re- 
cent game  'against  the  Berkeley  School  eleven,  only  serve 
to  corroborate  the  statements  made  by  this  Department 
two  weeks  ago.  Fortunately  Mr.  Ely,  the  coach  of  the 
Berkeley  team,  came  out  promptly  with  a  statement  to  the 
effect  that  the  boy  was  not  at  all  seriously  injured,  and 
that  ho  returned  to  his  school  the  next  day  with  his  com- 
panion players,  and  was  not,  as  reported,  laid  up  in  the 
hospital  in  a  critical  condition.  In  closing,  Mr.  Ely  re- 
marks: "  Any  team  of  school-boys  who  are  properly  looked 
after  and  cared  for  while  playing  the  game,  and  who  are 
physically  fit  to  play  it,  need  have  no  fear  of  doing  so,  nor 
need  their  parents  have  any  fear  that  their  sous  will  be 
permanently  injured  or  incapacitated  from  pursuing  a 
collegiate  or  business  career  from  injurious  effects  sustained 
upon  the  football  field."  Mr.  Ely  is  perfectly  right;  and 
let  me  add  that  boys  who  are  not  properly  looked  after 
while  playing  the  game,  or  who  are  not  physically  fit  to 
play  it,  should  not  be  allowed  on  the  field. 

THK  MOST  PROMISING  ELEVEN  in  the  New  York  League, 
up  to  date,  is  the  Berkeley  School  team.  Bayne  has  been 
made  Captain  instead  of  Irwin- Martin,  and  he  will,  no 
doubt,  put  more  life  and  snc,p  into  his  men.  The  change 
is  a  good  one,  for  Martin  is  a  good  deal  of  a  back  number 
in  scholastic  athletics,  and  has  thoroughly  outgrown  the 
class  of  players  who  properly  belong  on  school  teams.  The 
protests  against  him  on  the  score  of  age  will  probably  again 
this  year  pop  up  with  persistent  regularity  in  the  meetings 
of  1  lie  I.S.A.A.  Martin  ought  to  get  a  certified  copy  of  his 
birth  certificate  from  the  Bureau  of  Vital  Statistics,  and 
settle  this  disputed  question  once  for  all. 

THE  LEAGUE  GAMES  began  last  week,  and  the  schedule  is 
divided  into  two  sections,  as  the  baseball  schedule  was: 

FIRST  SECTION. 

Oct.  22. — Cutler  School  vs.  Hamilton  Institute. 
Oct.  29. — Trinity  School  vs.  Columbia  (Jrammar  School. 
Xov.  5. — Hamilton  Institute  vs.  Trinity  School. 
Xov.  12. — Cutler  School  vs.  Columbia  Grammar  School. 
Xov.  19. — Cutler  School  vs.  Trinity  School. 
Xov.  22. — Hamilton  Institute  vs.  Columbia  Grammar  School. 

SECOND    SECTION. 

Oct.  25. — Barnard  School  vs.  DC  La  Salle  Institute. 
Xov.  1. — Barnard  School  vs.  Berkeley  School. 


jvfov  § — Berkeley  School  vs.  De  La  Salle  Institute. 

Xov.  29. — Championship  game,  winner  first  section  vs.  winner 
second  section. 

Should  there  be  a  tie,  the  deciding  game  will  be  played 
on  November  '26th  at  the  Berkeley  Oval,  where  all  the 
championship  matches  are  to  be  held. 

THE  BROOKLYN  SERIES  BEGAN  almost  a  week  earlier  than 
the  New  York  games,  and  will  be  continued  in  this  order: 

Oct.  16. — Adelphi  Academy  vs.  Bryant  &  Stratton. 

Oct.  19. — Adelphi  Academy  vs.  Pratt  Institute ;  St.  Paul's  School 
vs.  Bryant  &  Stratton. 

•    Oct.  22. — "Poly  Prep."  vs.   Bryant  &  Stratton;   Boys'  High- 
School  vs.  Bryant  &  Stratton. 

Oct.  26.— Brooklyn  Latin  School  vs.  Bryant  &  Stratton;  "Poly 
Prep."  vs.  Pratt  Institute. 

Xov.  2. — Pratt  Institute  vs.  Boys'  Higu-School;  St.  Paul's  School 
vs.  Adelphi  Academy. 

Nov.  5. — Brooklyn  Latin  School  vs.  Boys'  High -School;  St. 
Paul's  School  vs.  "Poly  Prep." 

Xov.  9. — St.  Paul's  School  vs.  Pratt  Institute. 

Xov.  13. — "  Poly  Prep."  vs.  Boys'  High-School. 

Nov.  16. — St.  Paul's  School  vs.  Boys'  High-School ;  Pratt  Insti- 
tute vs.  Brooklyn  Latin  School. 

Xov.  20. — "  Poly  Prep."  vs.  Boys'  High-School ;  Brooklyn  Latin 
School  vs.  Adelphi  Academy. 

Nov.  23.— Brooklyn  Latin  School  vs.  St.  Paul's  School. 

Xov.  26. — "Poly  Prep."  vs.  Adelphi  Acinlrmy. 

THE  GAME  BETWEEN  LAWREXCEVILLE  and  the  Princeton 
'Varsity  showed  considerable  improvement  on  the  part  of 
the  school  team;  but  it  also  emphasized  the  fact  that  the 
end  players  are  still  weak,  and  that  both  quarter  and  full 
back  can  be  materially  strengthened.  On  the  whole,  the 
playing  was  sharp,  and  the  work  of  the  team  as  a  unit 
showed  that  it  was  made  up  of  good  stuff  that  will,  no 
doubt,  be  moulded  into  shape  by  the  time  of  the  Andover 
game.  The  tackling  and  breaking  into  Princeton's  inter- 
ference were  good,  but  the  men  were  slow  at  the  start  off. 
Their  own  interference  did  uot  form  in  time,  and  as  yet  the 
defensive  work  is  far  inferior  to  that  of  last  year's  eleven. 

AT  THE  HOTCIIKISS  SCHOOL,  Lakeville,  the  outlook  for 
football  is  good,  notwithstanding  the  loss  of  such  men  as 
Cheney,  Conner.  Sheldon,  Spencer,  Gray,  and  Wells.  Many 
players  who  were  raw  last  year  are  developing  well,  and 
some  good  new  men  have  come  in.  The  line  is  heavier 
than  last  year,  and  will  be  better,  but  the  ends  and  backs 
are  light,  averaging  perhaps  140  pounds.  Hixou,  centre, 
plays  a  strong  and  steady  game,  and  may  always  be  de- 
pended on.  Reiland,  left  guard,  though  he  puts  up  a  si  iff 
game,  is  apt  to  lose  his  side  much  ground  by  oft-side  plays. 
Brown,  right  guard,  makes  good  holes  and  breaks  through 
well,  but  rims  poorly  with  the  ball.  McCorinick,  left 
tackle,  is  playing  well,  and  runs  with  the  ball  with  I'on-e, 
but  is  inclined  to  be  overconfident,  does  not  follow  the  ball 
closely,  and  is  consequently  out  of  many  plays.  Cook, 
right  tackle,  is  playing  hard,  but  has  much  to  learn.  Crane, 
right  end,  although  very  light,  tackles  well  but  is  apt  to  be 
blocked  off  by  the  interference.  Savage,  left  end,  breaks 
up  the  interference  well,  but  is  a  little  weak  in  tackling. 

McKELVF.Y,  AT  QUARTER-BACK,  makes  an  excellent.  Cap- 
tain, passes  accurately,  and  shows  good  judgment  in  the 
generalship  of  his  team.  Warner,  half  and  full,  hits  the 
line  well,  and  plays  a  strong  defensive  game.  Ellsworth, 
left  half,  runs  around  the  ends  well,  but  is  weak  in  tack- 
ling. Warner  must  learn  to  punt  better  in  order  to  hold 
his  position  at  full  back.  At  present  the  team  plays  a  bet- 
ter offensive  than  defensive  game.  In  offense  the  liiie-iin-u 
block  well  and  make  good  holes,  but  in  the  defense  they 
do  not  break  through  quickly  enough,  and  do  not  follow 
the  ball  as  well  as  they  should. 

As  THE  SEASON  ADVANCES  and  the  teams  of  the  Con- 
necticut League  get  into  form,  the  struggle  for  the  cham- 
pionship seems  to  be  narrowing  down  to  a  close-  fight  be- 
tween Hartford  High-School  and  Hillhouse  High  of  New 
Haven,  with  the  chances  slightly  in  favor  of  the  former. 
Hartford  played  a  strong  game  a  week  ago  against  the 
Yale  Freshmen.  THE  GRADUATE. 


1090 


HARPEE'S   ROUND   TABLE 


THF 

CPUDDING 
STICK 


This  Department  is  conducted  in  the  Interest  ot  Girls  and  loiinE 
Women,  and  the  Editor  will  be  pleated  to  answer  any  question  on 
the  subject  so  far  aa  possible.  Correspondents  should  address  Editor. 

GWENDOLINE  writes  that   she  wishes 
to  know  the  secret  of  being  popular. 
"  I'd  like  to  be  a  popular  girl,"  she  says, 
••  a  girl  beloved  by  everybody." 

This  is  a  natural  wish,  and  in  itself  not 
wrong.  There  is  a  temptation  to  wrong  iu 
it  if  the  desire  be  carried  so  far  that,  in 
order  to  become  popular,  the  girl  sacrifices 
valuable  qualities  of  character,  as,  for  in- 
stance, independence  of  judgment  aud  sin- 
cerity. 

BUT  there  is  no  need  of  this.  The  girl 
who  chooses  to  be  popular  needs  first  to  be 
unselfish.  She  must  not  consider  her  own 
ends  first  nor  chiefly.  The  atmosphere  en- 
folding her  must  be  that  of  love  aud  kind- 
ness. You  know  how  some  girls  always  try 
to  have  the  best  things,  the  best  places,  the 
pleasant  things,  while  they  do  not  try  to 
pass  the  good  times  along  to  others.  These 
are  not  popular  girls.  Nobody  can  be  fond 
<>('  :i  sellish  person. 

AGAIN',  a  really  popular  person  must  have 
courage.  Courage  enough  to  be  a  leader. 
There  are  only  a  few  leaders  in  any  city,  or 
school,  or  other  corner  of  the  world.  Most 
people  are  followers.  I  heard  of  a  leader 
this  morning.  She  went  to  a  boarding- 
school  a  long  way  off  from  home.  Among 
the  teachers  there  was  a  little  shy  Miss 
Somebody  whom  the  girls  did  not  like. 
They  made  fun  of  her  prim  manner  ami  her 
queer  tow-colored  hair,  and  a  sort  of  mincing 
walk  the  poor  lady  had,  and  they  did  nut  si-e 
that  she  was  really  a  very  learned  woman 
who  could  teach  them  a  great  deal  if  they 
would  attend  to  her.  Maria  Matilda  ob- 
served the  state  of  affairs,  and  derided  that 
it  was  unjust,  so  she  championed  the  little 
teacher.  She  sent  flowers  to  her  desk. 
She  listened  respectfully  when  Miss  Diffi- 
dence was  in  the  preceptor's  chair.  Shi- 
began  to  be  very  fond  of  her,  and  discovered 
that  Miss  Diffidence  was  really  a  dear,  only 
frightened  out  of  her  wits,  among  a  crowd 
of  unfeeling  girls.  Before  long  Maria  Ma- 
tilda changed  the  whole  situation,  aud,  she 
being  a  boru  leader,  the  rest  followed  her 
willingly.  I  need  not  add  that  Maria  Ma- 
tilda is  popular,  m-i/  popular. 

ANOTHER  requisite  for  the  popular  girl  is 
siirnir-faire;  she  must  know  how  to  do 
things.  Any  one  of  us  can  have  this  power. 
It  is  a  mere  affair  of  paying  attention,  of 
will,  and  of  considering  it  worth  while  to 
be  able  easily,  in  whatever  place  you  are,  to 
do  i  lie  right  thing,  in  the  right  way,  at  the 
right  time. 

CHARM  of  speech,  charm  of  look,  charm 
of  manner  belong  to  the  popular  girl.  Do 
you  know  how  she  acquires  charm  ?  By 
simply  being  genuinely  interested  in  those 
about  her.  When  she  talks  to  you  she 
looks  you  in  the  I'ace.  She  has  nothing  to 


conceal.     When  you  look  at  her,  you  see  a 
good  heart  shining  in  her  eyes. 

Now  that  I  have  said  all  this,  I  must  add 
that  yon  would  far  better  be  unpopular  your 
whole  life  through,  than  to  make  a  study  of 
the  thing  merely  for  the  sake  of  ambition 
or  vanity.  He  that  saveth  his  life  shall 
lose  it,  says  the  best  of  Books,  which  means 
that  one  who  does  anything  for  purely  sel- 
fish—  which  are  always  purely  low  —  mo- 
tives, will  in  the  end  be  sadly  disappointed. 


' 


MONEY  FOE  TOADS. 

IT  is  said  that  boys  living  in  and  about 
San  Diego,  California,  are  making  money 
catching  horned  toads  for  the  Hawaiian 
government,  which  is  said  to  he  importing 
them  to  destroy  an  insect  which  is  ruining 
many  crops  in  the  island.  The  government 
want  5000  toads,  and  is  paying  the  hoys  $1 
a  dozen  for  them. 

HOW  TOD  GOT  INTO  THE 
HALLOWEEN  GAMES. 

rpOD  FORREST  was  one  of  those  kind  of 
JL  boys  that,  when  asked  to  exhibit  the 
contents  of  his  pockets,  could  produce  the 
oddest  lot  of  trash. 

He  stood  one  afternoon  lazily  hanging  on 
to  a  split  rail  fence,  gazing  idly  over  the 
fields  at  a  distant  wood.  "  Well,''  he  mut- 
tered, "I  reckon  I've  got  to  gather  some  of 
those'ereuuts.al'terall.  Letmesee.  'Holly 
eve'  comes  to-morrow,  and  the  boys  won't 
let  mo  in  on  the  games  unless  I  do,  so  here 
goes." 

Heaving  a  sigh,  he  climbed  over  the  fence 
and  made  for  the  woods.  He  penetrated 
deeper  among  the  trees  than  usual,  and  af- 
ter going  some  distance  he  found  himself 
on  higher  ground  and  in  a  new  spot.  A 
large  chestnut- tree  thick  with  burs  stood 
near  the  centre  of  a  small  knoll.  Ii  was 
the  work  of  a  few  minutes,  and  he  was  safely 
perched  in  a  fork  of  the  branches,  breaking 
open  the  burs  with  his  knife  aud  filling  his 
pockets  with  the  nuts.  He  had  filled  two 
of  those  capacious  maws,  when  he  was  star- 
tled hy  a  deep  growl.  There  beneath  him, 


nosing  around  among  the  empty  burs,  was 
a  good -sized  bear.  It  frightened  him  so 
that  he  nearly  lost  his  seat. 

Tod  could  always  Bud  the  humorous  side 
of  things,  however,  and  it  seemed  that  one 
of  the  burs  he  had  thrown  down  had  lighted 
on  the  bear's  nose  and  stuck  there,  tickling 
him. 

It  made  the  bear  snort  and  growl  in  the 
most  ludicrous  fashion.  This  was  a  short- 
lived matter,  for  through  an  incautious 
giggle  on  Tod's  part  the  animal  discovered 
him,  and  started  for  the  foot  of  the  tree. 
Now  a  bear  can  climb  a  tree  about  as  good 
as  any  one,  aud  Tod  knew  it,  but  lazy  as 
Tod  was,  he  had  a  mind  for  emergencies,  and 
seizing  a  handful  of  chestnuts,  he  threw 
them  at  the  hear.  This  second  interruption 
attracted  the  animal's  attention,  and  he 
began  devouring  the  nuts,  evidently  some- 
thing he  was  exceedingly  fond  of.  After 
that  to  keep  the  bear  out  of  the  tree  Tod 
was  obliged  to  throw  down  handful  after 
handful  of  chestnuts,  the  meanwhile  de- 
spairing of  his  situation.  He  searched  his 
pockets,  and,  lucky  thought,  there  among 
the  trash  were  two  small  rifle  cartridges. 

Selecting  two  of  the  largest  nuts,  he 
bored  a  hole  iu  them  and  inserted  the  cart- 
ridges. Waiting  until  the  bear  had  finished 
his  last  handful  and  stood  greedily  eying 
him,  he.  gently  threw  the  loaded  nuts  to  the 
ground.  Anxiously  he  watched  as  the  bear 
nosed  around  in  search  of  them.  In  a  few 
moments  one  of  them  was  found,  but  before 
the  greedy  animal  munched  on  it  he  secured 
the  other.  Now  it  was  funny,  but  the  bear 
seemingly  wanted  to  tantalize  Tod,  and  lift- 
ing his  head,  stood  looking  at  him  without 
attempting  to  chew  the  loaded  chestnuts. 
Tod  was  scared,  and  tears  came  into  his 
eyes.  The  bear  made  one  or  two  steps  tow- 
ards the  tree,  and  then  hesitating,  sat  back 
on  his  haunches,  with  his  eyes  on  Tod,  aud 
commenced  chewing. 

Suddenly  a  very  comical  look  of  surprise 
came  over  that  bear's  face,  and  almost  in- 
stantly an  explosion  took  place.  Tod  claims 
that  the  bear  jumped  six  feet  into  the  air, 
and  when  he  fell  back  on  the  ground  again 
he  never  waited  an  instant  to  learn  \\liat 
happened  him,  but  scampered  off  iu  the  fun- 
niest lumbering  fashion.  Tod  waited  till  he 
thought  it  was  safe,  aud  climbing  down, 
made  tracks  for  home.  The  boys  let  him  in 
at  the  games  on  Halloween  to  hear  him  tell 
his  story  again,  as  they  had  by  that  time 
substantiated  it  by  the  blood  tracks  of  the 
bear.  HUBERT  EAKL. 


Highest  of  all  in  Leavening  Strength.—  Latest  U.  S.  Gov't  Report. 

J  Baking 
Powder 
LUTELV  PURE 


AND    LL-T    "!'     -I1'"     I'1'1  Mr    M       U 

5KEE.  HAVEKFIBLD  Pl^B.  CU.,Cadiz,  4)hlo. 


1091 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


Macadam  or  Asphalt 
..........  Gravel 


BICYCLING. 

Editor  will  be  pleased  to  answer 
any  question  on  tbe  subject.  Our 
maps  nnd  tours  contain  much  val- 
uable  data  kindly  supplied  from  the 
official  maps  and  road-books  of  the 
League  of  American  Wheelmen. 
Recognizing  the  value  of  the  work 
being  done  by  the  L.  A.  W.  the 
Editor  will  be  pleased  to  furnish 
subscribers  with  membership  blanks 
and  information  so  far  as  possible. 

THE  map  this  week 
is  of  Boston  and 
its  vicinity,  aud  the 
reader  iu  using  it  OD 
tbe  road  must  remem- 
ber that  a  great  many 
streets  in  the  city  have 
been  omitted  here,  aud 
in  many  places  it  is 
impossible  to  put  the 
names  of  streets,  ow- 
ing to  the  necessity 
for  covering  so  much 
ground  on  a  small 
map.  Every  mac- 
adamized or  asphalted 
street  is,  however,  rep- 
resented on  the  map. 
The  object  in  publish- 
ing this  map  is  not  so 
much  to  tell  a  rider 
how  to  get  about  iu 
the  city,  i.e.,  iu  "  old 
Boston, "as  to  give  him 
an  idea  of  what  roads 
to  take  in  order  to 
reach  certain  suburbs 
and  to  follow  certain 
bicycle  routes  which 
we  intend  giving  in 
the  Department  in  the 
next  few  weeks.  The 
city  of  Boston  is  emi- 
nently suited  for  bicy- 
cle riding  owing  to  the 
beautiful  parks  which 
are  either  finished  or 
in  course  of  prepara- 
tion at  the  present 
moment.  As  a  usual 
thing,  the  starting- 
point  for  a  trip  in  the 
vicinity  of  Boston  will 
be  laid  at  Copley 
Square,  which  is  at 
the  intersection  of 
Boylston  Street  and 
Huiitington  Avenue. 
The  best  way  for 
reaching  any  of  the 
suburbs  or  towus  to 
north  and  west  is  to 
run  through  any  street 
from  Copley  Square  to 
Commonwealth  Ave- 
nue, proceeding  thence 
to  Massachusetts  Ave- 
nue, turning  right  aud 
crossing  the  Harvard 
Bridge,  thence  pro- 
ceeding through  Cam- 
bridge out  North  Avr- 
nue  to  Arlington,  Med- 
ford,  Maiden,  etc. 

To  UKACH  CHEST- 
NUT HILL,  Brookliue, 
or  Brighton,  Cominon- 


Copyright,  1S95,  by  Harper  &  Brothers. 


1092 


HAEPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


wealth  Avenue  should  be  followed  across 
Massachusetts  Avenue  to  Beacon  Street, 
thence  out  Beacon  Street.  Any  of  the  sub- 
urbs further  westward,  sui'li  as  Newton, 
Wellesley,  Jamaica  Plain,  etc.,  can  be  reach- 
ed over  oue  of  the  best  roads  that  was  ever 
made  for  bicycle  riders,  i.  i'.,  through  the 
new  park  that  has  been  built  along  the 
course  of  Stony  Brook.  To  reach  this  you 
proceed  across  Massachusetts  Avenue  on 
Commonwealth  Avenue  and  turn  left  into 
the  Fenway,  and  follow  what  has  been 
named  "The  Fens"  by  keeping  on  any  of 
the  roads  inside  the  park,  such  as  the  River- 
way,  Jamaicaway,  through  Leverett  Park, 
around  Jamaica  Pond,  thence  out  through 
the  Arnold  Arboretum,  and  from  there  tak- 
ing what  direction  is  desired  on  the  coun- 
try roads.  This  run  through  "The  Fens" 
and  Leverett  Park,  which  in  time  will  be 
extended  from  the  Arboretum  over  to  Frank- 
lin Park,  and  thence  to  South  Boston,  will 
make  oue  of  the  pleasantest  short  afternoon 
bicycle  rides  in  America.  It  will  have  the 
advantage  of  never  being  monotonous,  be- 
cause there  are  many  variations  to  the 
route,  allowing  you  to  wind  about  in  the 
park,  cross  different  bridges,  and  leave  or 
enter  it  at  many  different  points. 

To  REACH  MILTON,  DORCHESTER,  QDINCY, 
etc.,  there  are  many  routes,  the  shortest  of 
which,  though  not  perhaps  the  best,  being 
to  leave  Copley  Square,  to  Commonwealth 
Avenue,  to  Massachusetts  Avenue,  turning 
to  the  left  and  proceeding  thence  straight 
across  Boston, out  Massachusetts  Avenue  to 
Five  Corners.  From  Five  Corners  the  rider 
should  turn  to  the  right,  proceeding  by 
Boylston  Street  to  Upham's  Corner,  thence 
by  Columbia  Street  to  Franklin  Park,  turn- 
ing to  the  left  on  Blue  Hill  Avenue,  whence 
he  can  either  run  to  Hyde  Park  or  Milton, 
or,  turning  into  Washington  Street,  and 
proceeding  by  Milton,  to  Quiucy.  Probably 
the  best  road,tbough  somewhat  longer  ride, 
is  to  run  out  over  the  Feuway,  Riverway, 
and  Jamaicaway,  across  Franklin  Park,  and 
thence  to  Milton. 

NOTE.— Map  of  New  York  city  asphalted  «tr«ets  In  No.  809.  Map 
of  route  from  New  York  to  Tarry  town  in  No.  810.  New  York  to 
Stamford,  Connecticut,  in  No.  81K  New  York  to  Staten  Island  in 
No.  812.  New  Jersey  from  Hoboken  to  Pine  Brook  in  No.  813. 
Brooklyn  in  No.  814.  Brooklyn  to  Babylon  in  No.  815.  Brooklyn 
to  Northport  in  No.  816.  Tarrytown  to  Poughkeepsie  in  No.  817. 
Poughkeepaie  to  Hudson  in  No.  818.  Hudson  to  Albany  ID  No.  819. 
Toiteuville  to  Trenton  in  No.  850.  Trenton  to  Philadelphia  in  No. 
821.  Philadelphia  in  No.  822.  Philadelphia— Wissahickon  Route  in 
No.  823.  Philadelphia  to  West  Chester  in  No.  824.  Philadelphia 
to  Atlantic  City— First  Stone  in  No.  825 ;  Second  Stage  in  No.  826. 
Philadelphia  to  Vinelaud—  First  Stflpe  in  No.  827.  Second  Stage  in 
No.  828.  New  \  nrk  to  Boston— Second  Since  in  No.  829  ;  Third  Stage 
in  No.  830  ;  Fourth  Stage  in  No.  831  ;  Fifth  Stage  in  No.  832  ;  Sixth 
Stage  in  No.  833.  Boston  to  Concord,  834.  . 


plate  collecting.  Usually  three,  and  care 
must  be  taken  that  the  stamps  are  not  torn 
apart  and  that  the  margin  is  kept  attached. 
The  usual  form  of  imprint  on  the  sheets  of 
the  present  issue  is  the  following  : 


Bureau,  Engraving  &  Printing. 


149 


Some  collectors  keep  the  imprints  from 
top,  bottom,  left,  and  right  sides,  but  most 
are  content  with  one  only.  Plate  No.  89  is 
the  rarest  of  all  so  far. 

THE  PITTSBUUG  LIBRARY  has  set  apart 
an  alcove  for  philatelic  literature.  The 
other  American  libraries  will  probably  soon 
be  obliged  to  do  the  same. 

F.  SOHOENTUAI.KK.— The  U.S.  silver  dollar  of  1800  la 
worth  $2.  The  trade  dollar  is  worth  bullion  value 
only. 

P.  M.  L.— The  1845  dime  is  worth  20c. 

H.  J.  LEAK*.— Confederate  bills  are  very  common, 
and  I  therefore  advise  their  collection,  as  it  is  com- 
paratively ensy  to  get  a  very  large  number  by  the  ex- 
penditure of  little  money,  and  they  are  very  interesting 
to  all  Americans.  The  dimes  of  1829  and  1823  are  sold 
by  dealers  at  25  cents  each.  Your  half-dollar  is  worth 
face  only.  Mexican  coins  are  worth  their  weight  in 
silver  only. 

GICORGK  FRANOB,  Jtra. — The  5-cent  U.S.  Internal 
Revenue  is  the  ordinary  kind,  of  which  many  millions 
were  used.  It  is  sold  by  dealers  at  2  cents. 

C.  E.  A. — I  cannot  undertake  to  look  over  a  large 
lot  of  common  stamps  when  a  little  study  on  your 
part  would  enable  you  to  fairly  understand  them  your- 
self. It  would  not  be  fair  to  you.  One  of  the  great 
merits  in  stamp-collecting  is  that  it  trains  the  eye  ae 
well  as  the  mind. 

S.  HALI — I  cannot  advise  you  about  joining  the 
A.P.A.  Personally  I  am  not  a  member. 

PHILATUS. 


A  GOOD  CHILD 

is  usually  healthy,  and  both  conditions  are  developed 
by  use  of  proper  food.  The  Gail  Bordeu  Eai;le  Brand 
Condensed  Milk  is  the  best  infant's  food:  so  easily 
prepared  that  improper  feeding  is  inexcusable  and 
unnecessary — [Adv.} 


This  Department  H  .  uinlm  tr'l  in  Ilie-  int.'l^-t  ..f  >Uiu]»  :tn.l  ,1.111 
collectors,  and  the  Editor  will  be  pleased  to  answer  any  question  on 
these  subjecta  so  far  as  possible.  Correspondents  should  address  Editor 
Stamp  Department. 

PLATE-NUMBER  COLLECTING  is  booming. 
The  newest  development  is  the  issue  of 
priced  catalogues  of  the  1894  varieties,  both 
with  aud  without  water-marks.  As  yet  no 
one  has  ventured  to  price  any  of  the  earlier 
issues,  but  the  demand  for  them  is  already 
greater  than  the  supply. 

A  NUMBER  of   correspondents  ask  how 
many  stamps  are  takeu  from  each  sheet  in 


A.TD  VKRTISE  MKNTS. 

Say,    Boys ! 

We  have  been  telling  you  about  the 

"Rugby"  Watches 

for  some  time. 

If  you  have  not  sent  for  the 
"  Rugby  "  Catalogue,  you  are 
pretty  late.  It  is  your  misfortune. 

Turn  over  a  new  leaf  and  send  at 
once.  You  will  have  your  eyes  opened 
when  you  see  the  beautiful  designs 
on  the  cases.  The  catalogue  tells  all 
about  them. 

The  Waterbury  Watch  Co., 

207  Waterbury,  Conn. 

1093 


99     -P  (° 

011m  cX  Pie  C\J  LyO 


Children's     Wear. 

Corsets, 

Ladies'  Silk  Skirts, 

Ladies'    Underwear, 

Children's  School  Dresses, 

Misses'    Coats   and   Dresses, 

Children's     Coats    and    Jackets, 

Ladies'  Wrappers  and  Tea  Gowns, 

Children's  Frocks  for    Dancing  -school. 


u 


\ 


<5t. 


NEW  YORK. 


Stamps, 


innn  Mixed  Foreign  Postage  Stamps,  including 
I  UUU  Fiji  Islands,  Samoa,  Hawaii,  Hong  Kong,  for 
34c.  in  stamps  ;  10  varieties  U.  S.  Columbian  slnmps, 
25c.;  entire  unused  5c.  and  luc.  Columbian  Enve- 
lopes, 25c.  the  pair.  Only  a  limited  number  were  is- 
sued by  U.  S.  Government.  E.  F.  GAMES,  Box  2631, 
San  Francisco,  Cal.  Established,  1872. 


CTAMDC  I  BOO  fine  mixed  Victoria.  Cape  of  C. 
OlHIVIro  !  H..  India,  Japan,  etc..  Kith  fine  Stamp 
Album,  only  lOc.  New  8o-p.  Price-list  free. 
Agents  wanted  at  5O%  commission.  STANDARD 
STAMP  CO..  4  N.cliolson  Place.  St.  Louis.  Mo.  Old 
U.  S.  and  Confederate  Stamps  bought. 


100  all  dif.  Venezuela,Bolivia,etc.,ouly  10c.; 
IJT3I  200  all  dif.  Haytl,Hawait,etfc., only  BOtAg'ta 
w't'dat50;Scom.    List  FREE!   C'.  A.  Steg- 
niaini,5941C'oteBrillianteAve.,St.Loni8,Mo 


Mixed  Australian,  etc.,  10c.;   1O5  varle- 
ties,  aud  nice  album,  10c.:  15  unused,  10c.; 
10  Africa,  10c.;  15Asia,10c.  F.P.Vincent.C'hatlium.N.Y. 


FINE  PACKETS  in  large  variety.     Stamps  at  50^  com. 
Col's  bought.  Northwestern  Stamp  Co.,Freeport,Ill. 


RARE    STAMPS  FREE.     Send 

2c.  stamp.      F.  E.  THORP,  Norwich,  N.Y. 

Approval  sheets  at  50*  com.  Send  at  once. 
THE  OHIO  STAMPCO.,  Carthage,  Ohio. 


As  a  sample  of  our  10<»>  BARGAINS  we  will  send  FREE  this 
elegant  Fountain  Pen,  warranted  a  perfect  writer,  and  im- 
mense Illue.  Bargain  Catalogue,  f.ir  lOc.  to  cover  postage,  <stc. 
R.H.  INQERSOU  &  BRO.,  65  CORTLANDT  ST.,  N.  Y.  CITY. 


PERIODIC!!! 


rer  Xear: 

HAKPEK'S  MAGAZINE  ..........  Postage  PYee,  $4  00 

HARPER'S  WEEKLY  ............  "  400 

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HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  New  York,  N.Y. 


HAKPER'S    ROUND    TABLE 


Chapter  Programmes  Again. 

One  of  thr  chief  reasons  that  juvenile  clubs  often 
disband  for  lack  of  interest  is  because  nothing  is 
laid  out  fur  them  to  do.  In  the  first  place,  let  it  be 
said  that  those  Chapters  succeed  best  which  ad- 
1 10 iv  to  one  or  the  other  of  the  following  policies  : 
1,  Choose  some  older  person  to  direct  every- 
thing, and  then  obey  implicitly  the  suggestions  laid 
down  by  that  older  person ;  or,  2,  Resolve  the  Chap- 
ter into  a  committee  of  the  whole.  Let  all  have  a 
voice.  Agree  upon  a  programme,  and  then  fol- 
low it.  The  thing  to  be  avoided  most  is  the  run- 
ning of  the  Chapter  by  a  few  of  its  members. 

After  the  routine  business  have  a  subject  for  dis- 
cussion. Select  this  subject  a  long  time  in  ad- 
vance. Name  some  particular  phase  of  it,  and  ap- 
point one  member  to  open  and  lead  the  discussion. 
Then  have  three-minute  talks,  and  urge  each  mem- 
ber to  speak.  Doing  so  is  admirable  practice.  If 
others  fail  to  get  much  from  what  is  said,  the 
speaker  will  himself  get  a  good  deal,  because  he 
acquires  the  habit  of  thinking  on  his  feet. 

A  good  subject  for  a  whole  winter  is  American 
history.  In  order  to  have  a  definite  plan  in  its 
study  take  up  the  "  Federal  Principle."  That  might 
do  for  the  opening  evening  Tell  the  member  who 
is  to  open  it  to  consult  Moore's  American  Con- 
gress, and  learn  how  James  Otis,  in  the  Massa- 
chusetts Assembly,  made  the  first  suggestion  that 
the  colonies  get  together— furnished  us  with  the 
Federal  principle  itself.  Find  out  who  Otis  was, 
and  what  became  of  his  resolution  when  it  got  to 
the  Virginia  House  of  Deputies.  Getting  down  to 
the  time  of  the  Revolution,  on  later  evenings,  find 
out  why  the  Articles  of  Confederation  failed— be- 
cause they  had  too  little  Federalism  in  them. 

Another  subject  which  Chapters  might  take  up 
is  American  politics.  This  is  a  good  topic  for  ladies 
as  well  as  for  men.  Use  Johnston's  book  with  the 
above  title  for  a  basis,  and  get  your  arguments 
fi'i>m  the  newspapers.  Learn  the  structure  of  our 
local,  State,  and  national  government. 

Another  topic  is  the  study  of  men  and  women  of 
the  past  and  present.  Secure  the  exclusive  use  of 
a  good  biographical  dictionary.  Require  each  mem- 
ber present,  under  penalty  of  a  small  fine,  to  give 
the  name  of  some  famous  man  or  woman,  and  tell 
why  he  or  she  is  known  to  the  world.  This  exer- 
cise will  broaden  your  ment.ul  horizon  wonder- 
fully. For  instance,  Herbert  Martin,  when  his  turn 
comes,  says  he  has  found  many  interesting  things 
in  the  life  of  Cavonr.  How  many  members  of  the 
average  Chapter  can  tell  who  Cavour  was?  Yet 
he  was  a  modern  man  of  the  first  rank. 

Plan  something  to  do,  and  your  Chapter  is  likely 
to  be  interested  in  it.  To  find  out  what  that  some- 
thing shall  be,  consult  your  members,  and  follow 
their  wishes.  Then  get  outside  help  from  older 
l>ijrsims.  not  to  tell  you  what  to  do,  but  to  aid  you 
to  do  that  which  you  yourselves  have  chosen  to 
do.  Such  a  course  will  make  a  strong  and  profit- 
able Chapter.  Thousands  of  men  of  affairs  will 
tell  y»>u.  if  you  ask  them,  that  one  of  the  greatest 
sources  of  help  to  them  in  their  later  years  was  the 
knowledge  and  enthusiasm  that  they  acquired  in 
these  juvenile  societies. 


The  Word  Hunts. 

Not  the  slightest  injustice  will  be  done  to  any 
competitor  in  the  "  Word  Hunts,"  because  full 
rules  were  not  published  with  the  first  announce- 
ment. Judges  will  cut  out  of  all  lists  obsolete  or 
otht-r  prohibited  words,  and  the  chances  of  success 
will  n<»t  lie  l^ssrm-d  because  such  words  were  in- 
serted. Do  not  roll  your  lists. 


A  Special  Offer. 

Trarhn 's,  st  ud'-ii ts,  superintendents  of  Sunday- 
schools,  Linlies,  members  of  the  Round  Table,  and 
others  willing  to  distribute  ten  to  seventy-five 
Prospectuses  and  personally  commend  HARPER'S 
ROUND  TABLE,  will  receive,  according  to  number  of 
Prospectuses  distributed,  bound  volumes  of  HAR- 
PER'S YOUNO  PEOPLE  for  ISO:-},  gold  badges  of  the 
Round  Table  Order, packet  <>l  tit'ty  engraved  visit- 
ing-cards, bearing  their  name,  with  copper  plate 
for  future  use,  rubber  stamp  bearing  their  name 
and  address,  nickel  pencil  resembling  a  common 
nail,  or  silver  badge  of  the  Round  Table  Order- 
This  offer  is  restricted  to  one  person  in  a  town  or 


neighborhood.  In  applying,  state  how  many  circu- 
lars you  can  place  in  the  hands  of  those  sure  to  be 
interested  in  them,  what  are  your  facilities  for  dis- 
tributing them,  and  what  prize  you  seek.  Apply 
early. 


For  an  In  tlm.r  Evening. 

The  season  of  the  year  approaches  when  in-door 
parties  are  held.  At  these  parties  riddles  are  often 
called  for.  Several  members  send  us  some  riddles. 
We  group  them  here,  with  answers,  that  you  may 
use  them  if  you  have  need  : 

For  no  crime  did  I  come  to  my  end, 

No  rope  round  my  neck  was  e'er  tied ; 
Though  no  jury  decided  my  fate, 

I  was  hanged  from  a  tree  till  I  died. 
Answer:  Absalom. 

I  was  a  baron  bold  and  bad, 

A  follower  of  King  John ; 
I  lost  my  place,  I  lost  my  power, 

And  all  my  wealth  was  gone. 
My  story,  told  in  jingling  rhyme, 

Familiar  is  to  all : 
For  I'm  only  #  *  #  #  *  *    ******, 

The  *  *  *  that  had  a  fall. 
Answer:  Humpty  Dumpty.    Egg. 
My  first  a  party  leader  is, 

A  river  is  my  second, 
Whoever  bears  my  third  will  still 

A  man  of  mark  be  reckoned. 
An  emperor,  in  sad  disgrace, 

Knelt  barefoot  at  the  portal 
Of  him  whose  name  my  whole  betrays, 
In  cburch  and  state  immortal. 

Answer:  Hill-Dee-Braud.— Hildebrand. 
I'm  a  very  busy  person 

About  this  time  of  year; 
At  morning  and  at  night-time 

I'm  almost  always  here, 
But  at  high  noon  I  steal  away 
To  come  again  at  close  of  day. 
Answer:  Jack  Frost. 


tbelpmo 


At  the  approaching  Christmas-time  cannot  the 
Ladies,  the  Knights  and  Patrons  assisting,  hold 
some  fairs  in  aid  of  the  School  Fund?  As  a  rule, 
these  fairs  prove  the  most  successful  of  any  plan 
so  far  followed.  There  is  some  work  connected 
with  such  undertakings,  but  there  is  also  much 
pleasure.  Won't  you  speak  to  your  friends  about 
it  at  once?  See  what  they  say  and  what  they  will 
do.  You  will  find  all  willing  to  help.  What  is 
needed  is  a  leader.  Won't  you  take  the  lead— set 
the  ball  rolling? 

*  *  * 
Prizes  for  Pen-Drawings. 

Members  are  asked  to  bear  in  mind  that  we  can- 
not send  proof  of  the  prize  story  promptly,  as  sev- 
eral of  you  ask  us  to  do,  since  the  Story  Competi- 
tion does  not  close  till  near  the  end  of  December. 
It  is  the  first  prize  story  of  that  contest  that  is  to 
be  illustrated.  We  have  about  fifty  requests  for 
the  proof,  so  the  contest  is  to  be  a  spirited  one. 
With  the  proof,  to  be  sent  to  contestants  early  in 
January,  there  will  be  mailed  .hints  about  size,  etc. 
The  sum  of  $10  is  offered  for  the  best  illustration. 
Contestants  select  their  owtt  subject.  Those  who 
wish  to  try  for  the  prize  should  ask  for  proof.  If, 
after  you  receive  the  proof,  you  think  you  cannot 
successfully  compete,  you  merely  throw  the  proof 
in  the  waste  basket.  Better  try  in  the  contest. 
You  risk  nothing. 

By-the-way,  do  you  remember  the  spirited  illus- 
trations of  Mr,  Roosevelt's  Heroes  of  America  pub- 
lished last  summer?  They  were  the  professional 
work  of  Mr.  F.  C.  Yohn,  who,  as  an  aspiring  young 
man,  and  then  living  in  Indianapolis, tried  in  one  of 
our  pen-drawing  contests,  winning  a  first  prize. 


which  to  pay  her.    "  Yes,"  said  the  old  eypsy,  "  you 
have  five  dollars  hid  in  that  old  clock." 

Well, my  grandmother  consented  at  this  exhibi- 
tion of  the  gypsy's  supernatural  powers.  And  then 
the  gypsy  told  her,  among  other  things,  that  she 
would  have  great  trouble,  leave  Georgia,  and  go 
away  down  South,  and  be  left  a  widow,  and  then 
years  after  go  buck  to  Georgia.  Now,  the  strange 
part  about  this  is  that  the  gypsy's  prophecy  was 
literally  true.  My  grandmother,  sure  enough,  went 
away  down  on  the  Gulf  coast,  and  her  husband 
died  soon  after  of  paralysis,  and  now,  seven  years 
after  he  died,  she  is  on  her  way  back  to  Georgia. 
How  did  the  gypsy  know  ? 

UMATILLA,  FLA.  IlAKKY   R.   WHITCOMB. 


Prices  of  the  Order's  Badges. 

The  new  badges  are  an  exact  reproduction  of  the 
rose,  in  the  centre  of  which  is  claimed  to  be  the 
original  "round  table  "  of  King  Arthur.  You  will 
find  a  picture  of  the  top  of  this  table  on  the  back 
of  the  1896  Prospectus,  and  the  centre  of  it  at  the 
bottom  of  the  Patent.  The  prices  of  the  badges 
are:  Pansy  leaves  or  the  rose,  in  silver,  10  cents — 
that  is,  8  cents  for  the  badge  and  8  cents  for  post- 
age; of  the  rose,  in  gold,  85  cents,  with  notli ing  add- 
ed for  postage.  All  are  in  the  form  of  stick  pins. 
Members  are  not  required  to  purchase  badges.  We 
offer  the  silver  rose  as  payment  for  giving  to  your 
friends,  whom  yoxi  are  sure  will  appreciate  them, 
fifteen  Round  Table  circulars.  The  offer  is  open 
to  all  members. 


How  Did  the  Gypsy  Know? 

Years  ago  an  old  gypsy  called  on  my  grand- 
motherand  wanted  to  tell  her  fortune.  My  grand- 
mother didn't  believe  the  gypsy's  power  to  tell  of 
future  events.  But  t.he  gypsy  persisted.  Finally, 
grandmother  declared  she  had  no  money  with 

1094 


The  Order's  Handy  Book. 

Have  you  the  Table's  "Handy  Book"?  It  has 
thirty -six  pages,  mostly  filled  with  useful  facts. 
Full  information  is  given  about  the  Order  and  the 
School  Fund  ;  and  there  are  values  of  rare  stamps 
and  coins ;  lists  of  words  often  misspelled  ;  athletic 
records  of  1895;  books  that  all  ought  to  read  ;  in- 
formation about  gaining  admission  to  West  Point 
and  Annapolis  ;  populations  of  cities  ;  rules  of  eti- 
quette, etc.  You  may  have  copies  for  yourself  and 
friends,  if  you  apply  for  them.  Some  members  get 
copies  and  giye  them  to  fellow-students  in  Sunday- 
school  and  day-school  classes. 

*  *  » 
A  Question  for  You. 

In  the  ninetieth  line  of  the  First  Book  of  Virgil, 
the  first  two  words  are  Intonuere  poti.  The  trans- 
lation, as  ;I  have  it,  is  "the  poles  resound,"  mean- 
ing that,  the  earth  echoes  with  the  heavy  thunders. 
Now  will  somebody  please  explain  to  me  how  the 
ancients  knew  there  were  poles  without  having 
some  idea  of  the  roundness  of  the  earth?  Almost 
the  same  expression  is  used  in  the  398th  line,  as 
follows,  Et  cottu  clnxere  polujn,  etc. 

SCHAGHTICOKE,  Naw  YoBK.  A  LFUED  C.  BAKER. 

A  Venetian  Might  at  (Newport. 

On  an  evening  recently  Newport  Harbor  present- 
ed a  fine  appearance.  Of  all  displays  ever  given  in 
Newport  this  was  the  most  beautiful.  The  pro- 
cession started  at  half  past  eight.  There  were 
boats  of  every  description.  They  were  decorated 
with  Chinese  lanterns  and  colored  electric  lights. 
Among  the  most,  noticeable  decoration  was  the 
United  States  flag  with  a  search -light  behind  it. 
It  looked  as  though  it  was  painted  on  the  sky. 
Across  Thames  Street  were  electric  lights  con- 
structed in  such  a  way  as  to  read  : 

1895. 
Welcome  Yachtsmen. 

The  Y.M  C.  A.  had  a  triangle  made  of  Japanese 
lanterns.  There  were  also  pictures  of  the  Defender 
made  of  cloth  and  outlined  with  electric  lights.  It 
is  estimated  that  there  were  between  25.000  and 
30,000  lanterns  used.  A  great  many  lights  were 
constructed  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  the  whole 
outline  of  the  boat  show.  There  was  red  fire  and 
green  fire  hurning  all  the  time,  also  many  fireworks 
and  two  search-lights  to  brighten  up  the  harbor. 
The  sky  had  a  red'lish  tint.  The  naval  reserves 
had  a  sea-serpent  about  seventy-five  feet  long.  Old 
Father  Neptune  took  things  easy  on  the  back  of 
the  monster.  The  serpent  looked  very  docile, and 
its  eyes  snu^k  out,  taking  in  the  grand  display. 

NKWI-OKT,  R.  (  CHBSTKR   GLADDING. 


HARPEK'S   EOUND   TABLE 


Any  questions  in  regard  to  photograph  mutters  will  be  willingly 
answered  by  the  Editor  of  this  column,  and  we  should  be  glad  to  hear 
from  any  of  our  club  who  can  make  helpful  suggestions. 

ABOUT  OUR   PRIZE  COMPETITION. 

OUR  annual  Photograpbic  Prize  Compe- 
tition bas,  as  usual,  attracted  a  great 
deal  of  attention,  not  only  from  members  of 
our  Camera  Club,  but  from  many  who  wish 
to  become  members  in  order  to  enter  the 
competition,  for  as  this  is  the  first  time  that 
the  ROUND  TABLE  bas  opened  a  photo- 
graphic competition  to  all  amateurs  without 
regard  to  age,  the  interest  is  much  more 
widespread. 

lu  order,  however,  that  the  younger  mem- 
bers may  not  feel  handicapped  by  being 
obliged  to  compete  with  older  ones,  there  is 
a  competition  opened  for  them  the  same  as 
in  former  years,  and  any  who  have  not  pass- 
ed their  eighteenth  birthday  may  enter  this 
competition.  There  are  three  classes  — 
marines,  landscapes,  and  figure  studies.  A 
correspondent  asks  if  pictures  of  paintings 
or  engravings  would  come  under  the  head 
of  figure  studies.  Pictures  of  pictures  will 
not  be  admitted  to  the  prize  competition. 
All  pictures  must  be  original,  not  copied 
from  any  other  picture.  This  would  not 
prevent  any  one  using  a  picture  as  a  sug- 
gestion of  grouping  or  arrangement  of  the 
subject.  Take,  for  instance,  the  well-known 
picture  by  JJurillo,  "The  Fruit  Venders." 
A  photograph  of  this  picture  would  not  be 
admitted  in  the  prize  competition,  but  one 
might  take  two  children,  pose  them  as  near- 
ly us  possible  like  the  children  in  the  pic- 
ture, and  then  photograph.  Such  a  picture 
would  be  an  original  picture,  but  not  au 
original  idea. 

Another  question  that  was  asked  was  if 
the  pictures  must  be  marked,  or  if  one  must 
send  a  separate  slip  of  paper  with  name  on, 
etc.  Rule  VII.  says  that  "  pictures  must 
be  marked  with  the  name  and  address  of  the 
sender,  the  class  to  which  it  belongs,  and  the 
statement  whether  the  artist  has  passed  his 
or  her  eighteenth  birthday."  This  means 
that  the  picture  must  be  marked, and  by  the 
picture  is  understood  the  card  on  which  it 
is  mounted.  The  best  place  to  mark  a  pic- 
ture is  on  the  back  of  the  card  mount. 

In  regard  to  the  size  of  a  picture,  a  pic- 
ture taken  with  a  4x5  camera  is  meant, 
though  a  trimmed  print  is  a  little  less  than 
this  dimension.  The  picture  must  not  be 
trimmed  enough  to  bring  it  down  to  3x4, 
as,  of  course,  that  would  bar  it  from  the 
competition. 

Competitors  may  send  pictures  to  each 
class,  and  they  are  not  restricted  as  to  num- 
ber. 

The  studeuts  of  the  Illinois  College  of 
Photography  are  going  to  enter  the  compe- 
tition. As  this  is  the  only  college  of  pho- 
tography in  the  United  Stale's  we  shall  ex- 
pect to  see  some  very  tine  work. 

Will  Sir  Knight  Robert  II.  Sanders,  Jersey  City, 
New  Jersey,  plea**-  send  street  and  number.  A  letter 
addressed  to  him  at  Jersey  City  has  been  returned  In 
the  editor  marked,  "Not  Found."  If  Sir  Robert  will 
send  address  the  letter  will  be  forwarded  to  him  at 
once. 


IVORY  5  GAP 


IT  FLOATS 


A  luxury  is  "Anything  which  pleases  the  senses  and  is  also  costly 
or  difficult  to  obtain." 

Ivory  Soap  pleases  the  senses,  but  is  neither  costly  nor  difficult 
to  obtain.  Your  grocer  keeps  it. 


THE  PROCTER  £:  QAMQLE  Co.,  OIN'TI 


Every  whale 
has  barnacles- 
every  success 

has   imitators. 

I 

The  De  Long 
1  Patent  Hook  and  Eye. 
\ 


See  that 


hump? 


GRATEFUL-COMFORTING. 

EPPS'S  COCOA. 

BREAKFAST-SUPPER. 

"  By  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  natural  laws  which 
govern  the  operations  of  digestion  and  nutrition,  and  by 
a  careful  application  of  the  fine  properties  of  well-selected 
Cocoa,  Mr.  Epps  has  provided  for  our  breakfast  and 
supper  a  delicately  flavored  beverage  which  may  save  us 
many  heavy  doctors*  bills.  It  is  by  the  judicious  use  of 
such  articles  of  diet  that  a  constitution  may  be  gradually 
built  up  until  strong  enough  to  resist  every  tendency  to 
disease.  Hundreds  of  subtle  maladies  are  floating  around 
us  ready  to  attack  wherever  there  is  a  weak  point.  We 
may  escape  many  a  fatal  shaft  by  keeping  ourselves 
well  fortified  with  pure  blood  and  a  properly  nourished 
frame." — Civil  Service  Gazette. 

Made  simply  with  boiling  water  or  milk.     Sold  only 
in  half-pound  tins,  by  Grocers,  labelled  thus : 

JAMES  EPPS  &  CO.,  Ltd., 
Homoeopathic  Chemists,  London,  England. 

CARD  PRINTERfltfg 


Richardson 

&  De  Long  Erot., 

Philadelphia. 


"Waterloo" 


The  popular 
and  exciting  new 
battle  -  game  for 
2,  3,  or  4  players. 
For  young  or  old. 

Price  $1.25. 


The  Parker  Games 

All  PLAY  WELL! 

Ask  for  "  Inncccn,  v  AlnvnJ"  "Napoleon" 
"  Chivalrv,"  "  ]\inhv  Doodle." 
Sold    Everywhere. 


BALTIMOREAN   PRINTING  -  PRESS 

has  earned  more  money  for  boys 
th;m  nil  other  presses  Hi  tbemnr- 
k''t.  Iloys,  don't  idle  awjiy  yonr 
time  when  you  c»n  buy  a  self- 
inkincr  print  ing-press,  type,  and 
complete  outfit  for  $5.0(1.  Write 
for  particulars,  there  is  money 
in  it  for  you 

THE   J.'F.   \V.  IMUtMAX   CO., 
Uallhuurt,   Mil..    1     v  \ 


HEAD  NOISES  CURED 

by  my  INVISIBLE  Tul.tiUr  ,.  ushions.  Havu  helped 
moru  t.>  umid  UC  AD  than  all  other  de- 
vices combine'..  Wlu'-p'-'rs  HCHnd.  Help  eiirs  us  glasses 
ilouyes.  F.HlMeoXf8&8  B'dway.N.Y.  Bootof proofs  FREE 


1095 


"When  Christmas  was  Christmas." 

44  Seven 

Crown 

Jewels." 

A  precious  collection  it  is,  indeed, 
both  of  old  and  new,  this  "Christmas 
in  Song  and  Story,"  with  its  nearly 
three  hundred  Songs  and  Hymns  and 
Carols,  each  in  its  musical  setting. 
"  Where  can  another  such  garner  be 
found,  so  rare,  so  choice, and  so  full?" 
Twenty-two  full-page  illustrations,  of 
Christmas  subjects,  from  Nast  to 
Raphael.  The  literary  selections  are 
long,  but  each  is  complete.  "  To  have 
these  seven  crown  jewels  brought  to- 
gether into  one  diadem,"  says  Christ- 
i  in  Culture, "  is  alone  worth  more  than 
is  asked  for  the  entire  work,  to  say 
nothing  of  its  rich  setting  both  musi- 
cal and  pictorial."  Large  quarto, 
crims  .n  cloth,  £2.50.  Address 

Harper  &  Brothers.  New  York. 


HARPER'S   ROUND   TABLE 


THRILLING    EXPERIENCE    OF    TWO    YOUNG    HEATHENS    WHO    LEARNED    TO    SKATE. 


FORCE  OF  HABIT. 
FORCE  of  habit  impels 
us  to  do  a  great  many  ri- 
diculous tilings.  That 
clever  little  compendium 
of  wit  and  information, 
Tit  Hits,  well  illnstrati-s 
this  fact  with  a  story  of  a 
railway  porter,  living-  in 
Lancashire,  who  was  ill 
the  habit  of  frequently 
getting  up  in  his  sleep, 
and  from  whose  actions  it 
was  evident  that  his  daily 
occupation  was  ever  pres- 
ent iu  his  mind.  One 
night  he  jumped  up  hur- 
riedly, rau  down  to  the 
kitchen,  vigorously  opened 
the  oven  door,  and  cried 
out,  "  Change  here  for  Bol- 
ton,  Bury,  and  Manches- 
ter." ' 

A    PROPER    RETORT. 

A  GOOD  story  is  told  of 
a  self -respecting  carpen- 
ter who  was  sent  to  make 
some  repairs  in  a  private 
house.  As  he  entered  the 
room  in  which  the  work 
was  to  be  done,  accompa- 
nied liy  his  apprentice,  the 
lady  of  the  house  called 
out,  "  Mary,  see  that  uiy 
jewel-case  is  locked." 

The  carpenter  under- 
stood, and,  as  he  was  an 
honest  man,  he  was  indig- 
nant. He  had  his  oppor- 
tunity, however,  and  he 
used  it.  He  removed  his 
watch  and  chain  from  his 
waistcoat  with  a  signifi- 
cant air,  and  gave  them 
to  his  apprentice. 

"  John,"  he  said, 
these  back  to  the 
It  seems  that  this 
isn't  safe." 


'  take 
shop, 
house 


I.    TlIKY      TIED     THICIR      QUEUK8      TOGETHER,    SO     THAT     IF     EITUKK     ItltOKF.     THROUGH     HE     WOULD     BE 
RESCUED    BY   Til  1C  OTHER.  II.    IT   SEEMED    DELIGHTFUL     UNTIL —  III.    ONE    OF    THEM     SLIPPED     AND 

BOTH   FELL;  IV.    BuT   AFTEE   A    I.ITTLK   PRAOTIOE   THEY    GOT   ON   QUITE  NIOELY,  WHEN —  V.    THEY' 

BOTH     BROKE     THROUGH,  AND VI.    TmCIlt    CAUTION     AND     FORETHOUGHT     PBOVEU     THE     MEANS    OF 

SAYING   THEIR   LIVES. 


A  TIMELESS  TOWN. 

THE  old  proverb  says  that  time  was  made  for  slaves.  It 
is  certainly  true  that  it  was  not  made  for  Alsacians,  if  the 
following  story  told  by  a  traveller  lately  returned  from 
Alsace  be  true.  Says  he  :  "On  my  return  from  Belchen,  I 
looked  upon  the  beautiful  villages  of  the  Leweu  Valley, 
and  being  a  tourist  who  likes  to  poke  his  nose  into  every- 
thing, I  turned,  by  chance,  into  the  church  at  Kircliberg. 
On  coming  out  I  took  out  my  watch  to  regulate  it  by  the 
clock  in  the  church  tower.  But  there  was  no  clock  to  be 
seen.  Hence  I  went  into  the  village  iuu,  and  there  asked 
the  time.  But  my  host  could  not  oblige  me.  '  I  can't  tell 
you  exactly,  for,  you  see,'  he  said,  '  \ve  have  no  use  for 
clocks.  In  the  morning  we  go  by  the  smoke  rising  from 
the  chimney  at  the  parsonage  up  on  the  hill.  The  parson- 
age people  are  very  regular.  We  dine  when  dinner  is 
ready.  At  4  P.M.  the  whistle  of  the  train  coming  from 
ilassimiuster  tells  us  that  the  time  has  come  for  another 
meal,  and  at  night  we  know  that  it  is  time  to  go  to  bed 
when  it  is  dark.  On  Sunday  we  go  to  church  when  the 
bell  rings.  Our  parson  is  a  very  easy-going  man,  and  he 
doesn't  mind  beginning  half  an  hour  sooner  or  later." 


SOMETHING  WRONG. 
IT  was  a  very  cold  morn- 
ing, and  Bobbie  canie  rush- 
ing  into   the   house  very 
much  excited. 

"  Mouimer,"  he  cried,  "  there's  something  the  matter  with 
me.     Please  send  for  the  doctor.     I'm  breathing  fog  .'" 


A   DOG  STORY. 

A  LONDON  dog  story  is  apt  to  be  a  hard  sort  of  a  tale  to 
believe,  but  it  is  never  lacking  in  interest.  The  latest  is 
of  a  dog  who  takes  a  daily  walk  with  its  mistress.  The 
animal  has  observed  that  at  a  certain  crossing  the  police- 
man stops  the  traffic  to  allow  his  mistress  to  pass  over. 
The  other  day  the  dog  went  out  alone,  and  when  he  came 
to  the  crossing  he  barked  to  attract  the  policeman's  atten- 
tion. The  policeman  observed  what  the  dog  wanted.  He 
stopped  the  traffic,  and  the  dog  walked  solemnly  across. 

A  MISTAKE. 

"  Now,  Jimmie,"  said  his  teacher,  "  let  us  take  up  the 
alphabet.  There  are  iu  all  twenty-six  letters." 

"  Hoh!"  giggled  Jimmie. 

"  What  are  you  laughing  at?"  asked  the  teacher. 

"  You're  trying  to  fool  me,"  said  Jimmie,  "  'bout  them 
letters.  Our  postman  has  more'u  a  hundred  every  morn- 
ing." 


1096